“He has a large store now in Springfield, Massachusetts. They say his bales are firm, round, hard and true, almost as if they had been turned out in a lathe. But the New England manufacturers are boycotting him. He’s not playing according to the rules and he’s being squeezed out. The truth of the matter is that John Brown has his own set of rules. He says he has a mission to perform.” There was another long silence. Then Gerrit Smith spoke and his voice was sad. “I wish I had it in my power to give him that tract of land protected by the Blue Ridge Mountains. I think that land lies at the core of all his planning.” Gerrit Smith was right. John Brown had a plan. One thing alone reconciled him to his Springfield sojourn and that was the Negroes whom he met there. He had met black men singly here and there before. He was consumed with an intense hatred of slavery, and in Springfield he found a group of Negroes working manfully for full freedom. It was a small body without conspicuous leadership. On that account it more nearly approximated the great mass of their enslaved race. Brown sought them in home, in church and on the street; he hired them in his business. While Garrison and Douglass were touring Ohio, John Brown was saying to his black porter and friend, “Come early in the morning so that we’ll have time to talk.” And so before the store was swept or the windows wiped, they carefully reviewed their plans for the “Subterranean Pass Way.” * * * * * Amelia and Mrs. Royall did not make the trip north. Amelia’s disappointment was tempered because she knew Frederick Douglass was somewhere out West. Jack Haley laughed and said that was the reason the old lady did not go. But Anne Royall said no newspaper woman could leave Washington when news was fairly bristling in the air. That last was true. Had not the South fought and paid for the gold fields of California? Now the scratch of President Polk’s pen as he signed the treaty with Mexico reverberated through the halls of Congress. Tempers were short. “And manners have been tossed out the window,” said Anne Royall. Then Jefferson Davis was sent up from Mississippi. Mrs. Royall was immediately intrigued by the tall, handsome war hero. “Careful, Mrs. Royall!” warned Jack Haley, shaking his finger. “Attend your own affairs, young man,” snapped the old lady. “Jefferson Davis brings charm into this nest of cawing crows!”