listened to my statement with an indulgent smile as if humouring
the delusion of a monomaniac. This slur upon my veracity led to a
quarrel between myself and John Vanburger, the brother of my wife,
and confirmed me in my resolution to let the matter sink into
oblivion--a determination which I have only altered through my
son's solicitations. In order to make my narrative intelligible,
I must run lightly over one or two incidents in my former life
which throw light upon subsequent events.

My father, William K. Jephson, was a preacher of the sect called
Plymouth Brethren, and was one of the most respected citizens of
Lowell. Like most of the other Puritans of New England, he was a
determined opponent to slavery, and it was from his lips that I
received those lessons which tinged every action of my life. While
I was studying medicine at Harvard University, I had already made
a mark as an advanced Abolitionist; and when, after taking my
degree, I bought a third share of the practice of Dr. Willis, of
Brooklyn, I managed, in spite of my professional duties, to devote
a considerable time to the cause which I had at heart, my pamphlet,
"Where is thy Brother?" (Swarburgh, Lister & Co., 1859) attracting
considerable attention.

When the war broke out I left Brooklyn and accompanied the 113th
New York Regiment through the campaign. I was present at the
second battle of Bull's Run and at the battle of Gettysburg.
Finally, I was severely wounded at Antietam, and would probably
have perished on the field had it not been for the kindness of a
gentleman named Murray, who had me carried to his house and
provided me with every comfort. Thanks to his charity, and to the
nursing which I received from his black domestics, I was soon able