![]() A rough-looking porter, laboring behind, carried my trunk upon his back. Grummage, who had already begun to move on. In a flutter of nervousness I identified my trunk, threw my arms about Miss Emerson (my sweet companion for the trip down), and bid her a tearful farewell. Next, please oblige me by following, and everything shall be as it is meant to be." "Now, Miss Doyle, if you would be so good as to indicate which is your trunk, I have a man here to carry it. ![]() ![]() "Pleased to meet you," I said, dipping a curtsy. "Miss Doyle?" he said as I stepped from the Liverpool coach. His eyes might have been those of a dead fish. His somber, sallow face registered no emotion. Grummage was dressed in a black frock coat with a stove pipe hat that added to his considerable height. He was also to meet me when I came down from school on the coach, then see me safely stowed aboard the ship that my father had previously selected. ![]() It was he my father delegated to make the final arrangements for my passage to America. ![]() Grummage was, like my father, a gentleman. Though a business associate of my father, Mr. Just before dusk in the late afternoon of June 16, 1832, 1 found myself walking along the crowded docks of Liverpool, England, following a man by the name of Grummage. ![]()
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