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Tuesday July 14th 1863 On the deck of the [[Plymouth Rock]]; a noble ship, bound from [[New York]] to [[London]], with a mixed cargo and a few passengers, including myself; at present lying at anchor, about midway in the bay and almost out of sight of the city of [[New York]]; the spires of which and the masts of the few vessels lying at the wharves being just visible along the horizon. It is a beautiful summer afternoon; the sun shine bright and hot but as we sit upon the deck we are protected from his powerful beams by an awning, which the Captain of the ship has considerately spread for our comfort; so as we stand or walk the deck we cand enjoy the refreshing breezes which come from the sea, without being scorched to death by the ferverent rays of the July Sun. We are in the midst of a beautiful- a stirring scene, On all
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sides the waters of the magnificent bay spread out as far as the eye can reach, and are bounded by just the faint outlaine of the adjacent shore. On one side, we have a view very indistinct from the distance of New York and Brooklyn, and between us and them about half a mile from our ship to the right, and left are two of the powerful forts by which they are guarded, the names of which I do not know. We are surrounded by shipping of all sorts and of all countries; some lying at anchor like ourselves, others passing up ordown with the wind or tide or without the aid of either, but all helping to make a beautiful and to me a novel scene.
[The following text has been crossed out but is still legible] a scene which I could thoroughly enjoy were I placed under different circumstances to those under which I find myself at present; for I am a fugitive; not from justice for I am no criminal, but from my country; fleeing to a foreign land and to scenes of which I know nothing.
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[The following page has been crossed out but is still legible] and the thoughts of this fill my mind and banish from it any other considerations which the busy scene might suggest. The great civil war after raging for the past two years with such unparalleled vehemence has at length reached a most alarming crisis. It seems as if everyone even the humblest like my- self must take an active part in it one way or the other, or do what I have now undertaken to do, leave the country. This important step to me has not been arrived at without much consideration. After debating for a long time upon the advisibility of selecting Canada or England as a place of refuge or security from the storm I yielded to solicitation of my father and mother and chose the latter; and hence it is thus I find myself this beautiful July afternoon upon the deck of the Plymouth Rock, bound for London. Having at length made up my mind, I was not long in
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[The following text has been crossed out but is still legible] putting my project into execution. Finding that a ship called the "Christiana" was to sail from New York on Saturday July 11th we decided that I should endevor to get a passage by her. Having been very quickly fitted out with a few neccessaries, for no time was to be lost as the dreaded conscription was close at hand - I bade them all good bye and started. [Cross out ends] I was accompanied to Walnut St. wharf by Papa and Lizzie, who saw me on the ferry boat where I bade them good-bye. We left Camden at 12 o'clock July 10th and after a very slow journey we reached Perth Amboy shortly after five. We were at once placed upon a magnificent steamer and after a detention of nearly an hour [Crossed out - caused by the war] arrival of the mail train, we sped on our way to Gotham. We had a beautiful ride up the Narrows and reached New York about dusk. I im- mediately engaged a boy to assist me ashore with my trunk and engaging a hack I told the driver
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to take me to a decent hotel, or tavern where I could put up for the night. Being very unsophisticated, I fully believed he would do as I desired him; instead of which he took me and my baggage to the house of a friend of his called the "Golden Fleece" which I found to be one of the lowest places that could possibly be found even in New York the [resosrt?] of the vilest of the vile, and I found from the manner in which I was treated that the character of the house fully bore out the name bestowed upon it. However, being landed here, and being a total stranger, and night having fully closed in I had to make the best of it. Seating my- self in the bar-room and thinking of the strange things which had so suddenly come to pass and of my probable figure I was accosted by two or three persons who seemed desirous of making themselves familiar and