AN OVATION
to go, but his dreams did not turn to strife; rather they dwelt on the fruits of his efforts: chiefly popular acclaim—and with these fancies came a desire of such force as to be an actual need; a desire to impart these glowing prospects to another, to a person of vigorous mentality and sympathetic temperament. He yearned for approbation, encouragement, confidence, and with the consciousness of these needs his mind turned at once to Virginia.
He had learned before he left England that Virginia was visiting friends at a place with an English name, not far from Boston. Manchester—yes; that was it. He had a faint idea of the distance of Boston from New York, but on inquiring at his hotel found that it was five hours by a fast train. He did not object to the trip as he wished to see the country.
His agent had said that he did not need him; bade him amuse himself, and deplored the fact that his duties prevented his showing him any personal attention.
Rosenthal came the following morning and accompanied him to the depot. People whom they passed on the streets regarded Dessalines with interest and curiosity, but he encountered no sign of hostility, at which he was somewhat surprised, having heard so much of the anti-negro sentiment in the United States. Aboard the train it was likewise. In the Pullman his fellow passengers, well-bred people for the most, stared furtively, but none made any protest concerning his presence. Dessalines' well-groomed appearance, the cut and style of his costume, his man-servant with whom he talked in French, constantly and volubly, separated him from all preconceived American views of the negro. He did not seem a "darky," he was an Othello; even the
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