“There were only about a half dozen colored members attached to the Elm Street Church, at this time.... These descended from the gallery and took a seat against the wall most distant from the altar. Brother Bonney was very animated, and sung very sweetly, ‘Salvation, ’tis a joyful sound,’ and soon began to administer the sacrament. I was anxious to observe the bearing of the colored members, and the result was most humiliating. During the whole ceremony, they looked like sheep without a shepherd. The white members went forward to the altar by the bench full; and when it was evident that all the whites had been served with the bread and wine, Brother Bonney--pious Brother Bonney--after a long pause, as if inquiring whether all the white members had been served, and fully assuring himself on that important point, then raised his voice to an unnatural pitch, and looking to the corner where his black sheep seemed penned, beckoned with his hand, exclaiming, ‘Come forward, colored friends!--come forward! You, too, have an interest in the blood of Christ. God is no respecter of persons. Come forward, and take this holy sacrament to your comfort.’ The colored members--poor, slavish souls--went forward, as invited. I went _out_, and have never been in that church since, although I honestly went there with the view of joining that body.”[2] The second event was happier. Not long after they moved into the little house a young man knocked on their door. Frederick had just come in from a particularly hard and unproductive day. Anna, turning from the stove where she was about to serve the evening meal, listened attentively. She wanted to say something. Then she heard Frederick’s tired voice, “Subscribe? the _Liberator_?” “Yes,” the young man spoke briskly, “You know, William Lloyd Garrison’s Abolitionist paper. Surely _we_ ought to support him!” Anna moved to the doorway, but Frederick was shaking his head. “I wish I could, but--We--I can’t--now.” Anna slipped her hand in his. It was warm and a little moist. The young man understood. He cleared his throat. “You’d _like_ to read it?” he asked. “Oh, yes!” It was Anna who breathed the answer. “Then--you can pay me later!” “Oh, Freddie, that’s wonderful!” Anna said, but her eyes were beaming at the young man, who grinned and disappeared around the corner. “_She’s_ got brains!” he thought, with thorough appreciation. Back at the stove, Anna was fairly singing. “We hardly dared get the _Liberator_ through the mail in Baltimore. Now to think we can sit in our own yard and read it!” Every week Anna watched eagerly for the paper. When it came she waved the sheet triumphantly over her head as she walked back from the mailbox. Garrison was a hero. The authorities had run the New Englander out of Baltimore. But it had been from the sparks he drew that the East Baltimore Improvement Society had come into being. Anna sent their copies to Baltimore after they had finished with them.