The narrative of John Doy, of Lawrence, Kansas ...: Printed for the author.

DREARY HOURS.
have suffered more from the weather than during those
dreary hours by the road-side.
The sufferings, both physical and mental, of the poor
trembling creatures around us, no words can describe. The
chill wintry blast penetrated their thin clothing, and there
seemed to be nothing between them and a life-long slavery.
All hope must have been dead in their souls.
Even now I can hear the sobbing ejaculations of the
poor mother, as she tried to hush the wails of her half-clad
babes. In spite of the commands of the ruffians not to stir,
I jumped up, tore off the wagon-cover, and gave it to her
to wrap around her children.
The memory of that night will never be effaced from my
mind.
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