{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_7295/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_7295","id":"gutenberg_7295","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/7295","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Biographies","Category: History - American","Category: History - Modern (1750+)","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Freed persons","Haviland, Laura S. (Laura Smith), 1808-1898","Underground Railroad"],"text":"Produced by Skip Doughty, Tom Allen, Juliet Sutherland,\nCharles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nA WOMAN'S LIFE-WORK:\n\nLABORS AND EXPERIENCES\n\nOF\n\nLAURA S. HAVILAND.\n\n\n\n\nDEDICATION\n\nto\n\nMy two sons, and four daughters, and families;\n\nalso to the\n\nHome and Foreign Missionary Society,\n\nare these pages dedicated.\n\n                     The Author\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE.\n\n\nIn presenting the following pages to the public, without the trace of\nan excellent scholar or eloquent orator, I fully realize my inability\nto compete with writers of the nineteenth century. With this\nincompetency in view, I have hesitated and delayed until three-score\nand thirteen years are closing over me. Yet as I am still spared to\ntoil on a little longer in the great field so white to harvest, praying\nthe Lord of the harvest to arm and send forth more laborers, because\nthey are too few, I ask an indulgent public to allow my deep and\nabiding sympathies for the oppressed and sorrowing of every nation,\nclass, or color, to plead my excuse for sending forth simple,\nunvarnished facts and experiences, hoping they may increase an\naspiration for the active doing, instead of saying what ought to be\ndone, with excusing self for want of ability, when it is to be found in\nHim who is saying, \"My grace is sufficient for thee, for my strength is\nperfect in weakness.\"\n\nLAURA S. HAVILAND.\n\nOCTOBER, 1881.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nEARLY LIFE.\n\nParentage--Early Impressions--Childhood Skepticism--Religious\nExperience--The Great Leveler--Marriage--Removal to Michigan--The\nSemi-Christian--The Despairing Backslider\nRestored--Proscription--Withdrawal from the Society of Friends--Founded\n\"Raisin Institute,\"\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nBEREAVEMENTS.\n\nDream--Bereavements--Early Widowhood--Trials--Dreamy--Victory by\nFaith--A Fugitive Slave Escapes--Marriage of two Older Children,\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nANTI-SLAVERY EXPERIENCES.\n\nBaptist Deacon Convicted of the Sin of Slavery by his Slave--Willis\nHamilton's Escape with his Slave-wife, Elsie, to Canada--Removal to\nMichigan--Whereabouts Discovered by Elsie's Master--Deeply Laid Scheme\nto Capture the Hamilton Family--Threats of Violence--Second Attempt and\nDefeat--Death of the two Slave-holders,\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nAN OHIO SCHOOL-TEACHER.\n\nA Traveling Agent--Slave Claimant--John White--Threats--Visit to Jane\nWhite--Interview with William Allen--Escape of Slaves--In\nSuspense--Death of First-born--Comforting Dream--John White a\nPrisoner--His Release and Subsequent History,\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nTHE UNDERGROUND RAILWAY.\n\nTwo Slave Families Escape--Story of George and James--A Mother and\nDaughter Leave a Boat bound for the Lower Market--Sarah and two Young\nMen join our Party--Seven are Conducted to Canada--Raisin Institute\nSuspended for an Academic Year--Return to Cincinnati--Maria--Threats of\nher Master--The Escape of two Young Men\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\nFUGITIVE SLAVES ASSISTED.\n\nClara and Three Children Rescued--Jack Betrayed and Returned to\nBondage--A Little Nurse Girl taken from her Owners in Cincinnati--How\nZack was Saved--Calvin Fairbanks Visited in Prison--Fugitive Slaves\nForwarded\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\nCHRISTIAN AND EDUCATIONAL WORK.\n\nVisiting and Nursing the Sick--Nine Slaves Arrive from\nKentucky--Richard Dillingham Dies in Tennessee Penitentiary--Seven\nSlaves Conducted to Freedom--Teach Six Months in Toledo\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\nFUGITIVES IN CANADA.\n\nMission Among the Fugitives in Canada--Religious Revival--Organization\nof a Christian Union Church--Efforts of Missourians to Retake the\nFugitive Slave, William Anderson, from Canada--The Kentucky Slave-owner\nWhipped in the Old Barracks in Windsor in his Effort to Decoy Three\nYoung Men back to Slavery--Reopening School\n\n\nCHAPTER IX.\n\nRESCUE OF SLAVES.\n\nEscape of a Slave Family of Six--A Slave Man Travels for a White Man\nand Succeeds--Trip to Arkansas--The Story of George Wilson--The\nSlave-daughter under Mortgage Released by her Mother--Mintie Berry\nPurchases her Husband--John Brown Hanged--The War Opens and takes\nSeventeen Students of Raisin Institute--First Trip to the Front with\nSupplies\n\n\nCHAPTER X.\n\nHOSPITAL WORK.\n\nCairo--Incidents Preparatory to Removing Freedmen's Camp to Island No.\n10--Death of a Child--Disbursing Supplies and other Mission Work on the\nIsland--Story of Uncle Stephen--Hospital Visiting in Memphis,\nTennessee--Surgeon Powers Reported--Forty Slaves come into Camp\nShiloh--Seven Slaves come from a Plantation seven miles below\nMemphis--First Enlistment of Colored Soldiers--Mission Work in Columbus,\nKentucky--Young Colored Man Shot by his Young Master--Turning of\nTables--Return Home--Our Principal, E. A. Haight, Enlisted\n\n\nCHAPTER XI.\n\nSANITARY WORK.\n\nOrganized Freedmen's Relief Association--Solicit Supplies--Academic\nYear Opened for 1863-4--Sister Backus and Self leave for Fields of\nSuffering--Incidents on the Way--Mission Work in Natchez,\nMississippi--Four Hundred Slaves Hanged and otherwise Tortured--Visit\nto the Calaboose--Mission Work in Baton Rouge--Arrival at New\nOrleans--Sketch of Persecutions\n\n\nCHAPTER XII.\n\nMISSION WORK IN NEW ORLEANS.\n\n\nMission Work in New Orleans--Soldiers and Prisoners Visited on Ship\nIsland--Petition of Seventy Soldier Prisoners in behalf of Three\nThousand of their Fellow Prisoners--Appeal in behalf of Ship Island and\nTortugas Prisoners--Mission Work at Plaquemine--Natchez--Capture of a\nRebel steamer--Arrival at Home--Release of the Three Thousand Banished\nUnion Soldiers\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII.\n\nFREEDMEN'S AID COMMISSION.\n\nRefugees in Kansas--Children of Want--Afflicted Family--Scenes of\nDistress--Agnes Everett--Quantrell's Raid--Poor White\nTrash--Hospitals--Supplies Distributed--Refugee Buildings--Orphan\nChildren--Haviland Home--Thomas Dean a Prisoner--Petition for\nPardon--Pardon Granted--A Southern Clergyman--Mission School--At\nHarper's Ferry and Washington.\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV.\n\nHOME MISSION WORK.\n\nMission Work and Incidents in\nWashington--Murders--Alexandria--Richmond, Virginia--Williamsburg--Fort\nMagruder--Yorktown--Suicide--Gloucester Court-house--Fortress\nMonroe--Norfolk--Return to Washington--White Woman Whipped.\n\n\nCHAPTER XV.\n\nEXPERIENCES AMONG FREEDMEN.\n\nA Soldier Prisoner--Interesting\nStatistics--Schools--Plantations--Incidents--Return to\nWashington--Return Home with Fifteen Orphans and Fifty Laborers--Change\nin Orphan Asylum--Mission Work in Covington and Newport,\nKentucky--Mission Work in Memphis, Tennessee--Uncle Philip a Remarkable\nMan--Return Home.\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI.\n\nSTATE PUBLIC SCHOOL.\n\nBoard of Directors Arrange for Closing the\nHome--Discouragements--Relief Comes by\nSleigh-loads--Encouragements--Petitions to the State Legislature to\nmake the Home a State Institution--Petitions Granted, and the Orphan's\nHome becomes the \"State Public School,\" located at Coldwater--Work in\nState Public School.\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII.\n\nCHRISTIAN LABOR AND RESULTS.\n\nWork for the Asylum--Again in Washington--Mission Work--Trial of Henry\nWirtz--Inspecting Soup-houses--Incidents connected with Kendal Green\nCamp--Peremptory Order of J. R. Shipherd Closing Asylum--Children\nScattered--Returned Home with Authority from American Missionary\nAssociation to Reopen Asylum--Dangerous Fall--Restored to Asylum\nWork--Overtaken with Convulsions--Answer to Prayer in being Restored.\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII.\n\nPRESENT CONDITION OF THE FREEDMEN.\n\nKansas Freedmen's Relief Association--Testimony of Perry\nBradley--Incidents--Persecutions--Prof. Greener--Colored\nRepublicans--Further Testimony--Negro Woman Killed--Letter from the\nSouth--Atrocities--Refugees in Kansas--Bull-dosing--Kansas\nOverfull--Protection Needed--Michael Walsh--Silver Linings.\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX.\n\nPROSPECTS OF THE FREEDMEN.\n\nSupplies Furnished--Relief Association at Work--Northern\nOutrages--Prudence Crandall--Colored Schools--Freedmen's Aid\nSchools--Industrial and Agricultural Institute.\n\n\n\n\nILLUSTRATIONS.\n\n\n  STEEL PORTRAIT OF THE AUTHOR\n  THE SLAVEHOLDERS' THREATS.\n  SLAVE IRONS.\n  CLARK UNIVERSITY FOR FREEDMEN (CHRISMAN HALL).\n  MEHARRY MEDICAL COLLEGE.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nEARLY LIFE.\n\n\nAt the earnest solicitation of many dear friends I have consented to\nleave on record some of the incidents that have fallen under my\npersonal observation during three-score and ten years.\n\nMy father, Daniel Smith, was a native of Eastern New York, and for many\nyears an approved minister in the Society of Friends. He was a man of\nability and influence, of clear perceptions, and strong reasoning\npowers.\n\nMy mother, Sene Blancher, was from Vermont; was of a gentler turn, and\nof a quiet spirit, benevolent and kind to all, and much beloved by all\nwho knew her, and was for many years an elder in the same Society.\n\nIt is due to my parents to say, if I have been instrumental, through\nthe grace of God, to bless his poor and lowly of earth, by adapting\nmeans to ends in relieving suffering humanity, it is largely owing to\ntheir influence.\n\nSoon after their marriage, they removed to Kitley Township, county of\nLeeds, Canada West (now known as Ontario), where I was born, December\n20, 1808. I well remember the perplexities and doubts that troubled my\nyoung mind in trying to find the whys and wherefores of existing facts;\nyet I was naturally a happy and playful child. Some remarks made by my\nparents over a portion of Scripture father was reading, in which was\nthe sentence, \"and they are no more twain, but one flesh\"--\"that is a\nclose relationship; twain is two, no more two but one flesh\"--struck me\nwith wonder and amazement. \"Yes,\" replied mother, \"that is a oneness\nthat is not to be separated, a near relation between husband and wife;\n'no more twain, but one flesh.' 'What God has joined together let not\nman put asunder.'\" It seemed as if every word fastened upon my mind a\nfeeling of awe at the new thought, that father and mother were one\nperson. \"Then they think just alike, and know all about the other, if\ntrue; father and mother believe it, and they found it in the Bible, and\nthat,\" I thought, \"must be true. Now for the test--If father and mother\nare one, they must know each other's thoughts and whereabouts.\" After\nfather had been out a few minutes I asked mother where he was. \"Not far\noff; may be he's gone to the barn.\" But he was not there. At my report\nshe said, \"Perhaps he's gone to David Coleman's, or some of the\nneighbors.\" This settled the matter in my mind, that they were not one.\nBut I gave the same test to try father, which also proved a failure.\nBut not quite satisfied without further investigation, I asked mother\nfor permission to go to David Coleman's to play an hour with his little\ngirls. Little did she know that the object of her little five-year-old\nskeptic was to present the test to their father and mother, to see\nwhether they were one, and found the same result each time.\n\nThis settled the question in my mind that one thing in the Bible was\nuntrue. Father and mother were mistaken in that part of the Bible that\nsaid husband and wife were no more two, but one. For a long time after\nthis, whenever the Bible was referred to as authority, I would think,\n\"It may be true, and may not, because I tried one thing it said that\nwas not true.\"\n\nAnother mystery was hard for me to solve. In asking mother where we\nshould go if we should jump off the edge of the world, she replied,\n\"There is no jumping off place, because our world is round, like a\nball, and takes one day and night to roll around, and that makes day\nand night.\" After the little child of six years had studied over this\nmysterious problem a short time, she returned with the query, \"Why\ndon't we drop off while underside? and why don't the water spill out\noff Bates's creek and our well?\" She replied, \"Water, as well as every\nthing else, is always kept in place by a great law, called gravitation,\nthat our Heavenly Father made when he made the world,\" and she said I\nwould understand more about it when older. But this did not satisfy me;\nI wanted to know all about it _then_. As soon as father came in queries\nwere repeated, but he closed as mother did, that I must wait until I\nwas older, which made me almost impatient to be old enough to know how\nthese things could be.\n\nAnother subject occupied my childish mind a long time, and was\ninvestigated to the extent of the miniature ability I possessed. And\nthat was the interesting fact that I discovered one bright evening\nwhile looking at the stars, that our house was just in the middle of\nthe world; and when we went to grandfather's (a distance of seven\nmiles), as soon as it was night, I was out in the yard measuring the\ndistance by stars, but to my surprise, grandfather's house was just in\nthe middle. For I tried it all around the house, and went to the barn\nwith my uncles, and could discover no variation. Consequently I must\nhave been mistaken at home. But on our return I could not find by the\nstars but that we were just in the center of creation. Whenever I went\nwith my parents to a neighbor's for an evening's visit, my first and\nforemost thought was to see how far to one side they were. But I always\nfound myself just in the center of this great world; just as grown-up\nchildren are prone to think their own nation is ahead in arts and\nsciences, of all other nations--their own State ahead of all other\nStates in moral and intellectual improvements--their own town or city,\nlike Boston, the \"hub of the universe.\" In fact, _we_ are about the\ncenter; our pets more knowing, and our children smarter, than can be\nfound elsewhere. But as the study of astronomy gives ability to look\nupon the vast universe of thousands of worlds much larger than our own,\nrevolving in their orbits, it develops our intellectual faculties, and\nenables us to view the concave appearance of the ethereal blue from a\nstandpoint widely differing from the occupancy of the center. And when\nsupreme self is melted away by faith in the blood of the covenant, our\nspiritual vision becomes clearer and our miniature minds are expanding,\nand we learn to make due allowances for the acts and opinions of\nothers, that we have called peculiar, because they do not quite accord\nwith our own usages and tastes.\n\nIn 1815 my father removed with his family to Cambria, Niagara County,\nWestern New York, then a wilderness. Soon after we were settled in our\nnew home, we lost my baby brother Joseph, which made a deep impression\nupon my young heart, and gave me great uneasiness in regard to my own\nfuture happiness, should I be taken away. I found great relief, one\nday, while listening to a conversation between father and grandfather,\nas to what age children were responsible to their Creator. Father gave\nhis opinion that ten years, in the generality of children, is the age\nthat God would call them to an account for sin. Grandfather said that\nwas about the age he thought children were accountable, and all\nchildren that die previous to that age are happily saved in heaven.\n\"Yes,\" said father; \"where there is no law there is no transgression.\"\nAt this great relief to my troubled heart, I ran out to play with my\nbrother Harvey, to tell him how long we would be safe, if we should\ndie, for father and grandfather said children that died before they\nwere ten years old would go to heaven, and I would be safe almost two\nyears, and he would be safe a good while longer (as he was two years\nand a half younger than myself). \"Oh, yes,\" said he; \"and Ira will be\nsafe a great many years, 'cause he's little, if he should die as little\nJosie did.\" This earliest conviction of sin vanished like the morning\ncloud. This idea was so deeply embedded in my young mind, that whenever\nI heard of a child's death, my first inquiry was for its age.\n\nIf under ten, I was at ease over its safety; but if over ten years, I\nwas distressed unless I could hear of some words from the one taken\naway, that would indicate a preparation for the change of worlds. The\nvividness of those early childhood impressions are frequent reminders\nof the importance of giving clear explanations to children, in regard\nto important religious truths, as their young hearts are much more\nimpressible than is generally conceded.\n\n\nEARLY IMPRESSIONS OF SLAVERY AND RELIGION.\n\nDuring the first six years in our new home, there was no school within\nthree miles of us, and all the privilege we enjoyed of this kind was a\nspelling lesson given daily to three of us, the two little girls of our\nnearest neighbor and myself. Our mothers pronounced the words for us\nalternately, at their house and ours. In this way we spelled our book\nthrough a number of times. This privilege, with four months in school\nprevious to leaving Canada, proved a great blessing. As I possessed an\ninsatiable thirst for knowledge, I borrowed all the easy readers I\ncould find in the neighborhood. I was especially interested in memoirs\nof children and youth, which increased my frequent desire to become a\nChristian. I wished to read every book that came within my reach. I\nread a few of father's books, designed for more mature minds. I became\ndeeply interested in John Woolman's history of the slave-trade, of the\ncapture and cruel middle passage of negroes, and of the thousands who\ndied on their voyage and were thrown into the sea to be devoured by\nsharks, that followed the slave-ship day after day. The pictures of\nthese crowded slave-ships, with the cruelties of the slave system after\nthey were brought to our country, often affected me to tears; and I\noften read until the midnight hour, and could not rest until I had read\nit twice through. My sympathies became too deeply enlisted for the poor\nnegroes who were thus enslaved for time to efface.\n\nThe third or fourth I had ever seen of that race was an old man called\nUncle Jeff. He seemed to serve any one who called upon him for chores,\nin our little village of Lockport, that grew up as by magic upon the\nErie Canal. Uncle Jeff was frequently employed by merchants to cry off\ntheir stale articles on the street. At one time the old man, whose head\nwas almost as white as wool, was crying, \"Gentlemen and ladies' black\nsilk stockin's of all colors for sale,\" holding them up to view as he\npassed along the street, followed by a group of boys crying out,\n\"Nigger, nigger,\" and throwing grass and clay at him. At length he\nturned to these half-grown boys, looking very sad, as he said, \"Boys, I\nam just as God made me, an' so is a toad.\" At this the boys slunk away;\nand I felt very indignant in seeing the men who were standing near only\nlaugh, instead of sharply reproving those ill-behaved children.\n\nAnother colored man, named Ben, came to our town with a family who\nopened an inn. He was employed mostly in the kitchen, and while Ben was\nasleep on the kitchen floor, some rude boys put a quantity of powder in\nthe back of his pants, and placing a slow match to it left the room,\nbut watched the process of their diabolical sport through a window, and\nsoon saw their victim blown up, it was said, nearly to the ceiling. His\nhips and body were so badly burned that he was never able to sit or\nstoop after this wicked act. He always had to walk with a cane, and\nwhenever too weary to stand, was compelled to lie down, as his right\nhip and lower limb were stiffened. Yet little notice was taken of this\nreckless act, but to feed and poorly clothe this life-long cripple, as\nhe went from house to house, because he was of that crushed and\nneglected race.\n\n\nRELIGIOUS IMPRESSIONS AND EXPERIENCE.\n\nIn the Autumn of my thirteenth year, with our parents' permission,\nbrother Harvey and I attended a little prayer-meeting at our Uncle Ira\nSmith's house, near by. Here was singing, experiences given, with\nprayer and exhortations, in which young people, as well as those more\nadvanced in years, took part. All this was new to me, having never\nattended any other meeting than of Friends, usually called Quakers. My\nfather being a minister and mother an elder in that denomination, they\nwere very conscientious in training their children in all the usages,\nas well as principles, of that sect. At this Methodist prayer-meeting a\nyoung girl, but little older than myself, related her experience, and\nprayed so earnestly for her young associates, that it took a deep hold\non my mind; and on my way home, on that beautiful evening, I resolved\nto seek the Lord until I could know for myself that my sins were\nforgiven. Oh, how I wished I was a Christian, as was Hannah Bosworth.\nShe was so young, and yet she told us how earnestly she sought the\nLord, and found Jesus so precious in the forgiveness of her sins. It\nwas said in that meeting that God was no respecter of persons, and that\nI had read in the Bible; and then Jesus had said, \"Suffer little\nchildren to come unto me, and forbid them not;\" \"and now, this very\nnight, I _will_ begin to seek the Lord, and I _never_ will give up\ntrying, if it takes as long as I live, until I receive an evidence that\nI am the Lord's child. I want to realize that peace and joy those men\nand women expressed in that meeting.\" As all had retired, I placed a\ncandle in my brother's hand, and hurried him to bed, that I might know\npositively that no human ear could listen to my first attempt to\naddress my Heavenly Father.\n\nI knelt for the first time in my life, in the rear of our corn crib,\nbut no words could I find for prayer, and a feeling of fear came over\nme, and I arose to my feet. I looked all around me, but no one was in\nsight; naught but trees and shrubs of the garden below, and the\nethereal blue, bedecked with the beautiful moon and sparkling stars,\nabove. Is it possible that He who created this beautiful world can\nnotice a little girl like me? And the thought occurred that I had\nbetter wait until I was older. But the remarks to which I had just\nlistened came vividly before me, and I renewed my resolve to pray to\nHim who had said, \"Suffer little children to come unto me,\" and again\nknelt for prayer; but that feeling of fear increased, until it seemed\nas if some one was about to place a hand upon my shoulder, and I again\nfound myself on my feet. But as no one was in sight, I queried whether\nthis was not the enemy of my soul, to keep me from prayer, and fell\nupon my knees a third time, determined to remain in the position of\nprayer until my first petition to my Heavenly Father was presented. And\nthe prayer of the publican was repeated over and over again, \"God be\nmerciful to me a sinner.\" These words above all others seemed just for\nme. I was a sinner, and mercy was what I wanted. I returned to the\nhouse with a still more fixed resolve to continue asking, with a firmer\npurpose never to give over until the evidence of pardoning love was\nmine. As I retired, I knelt by my bedside, and repeated the same\nprayer, with a few additional words, imploring the aid of the Holy\nSpirit to teach me the way of life, and penitential tears began to\nflow. Before I slept my pillow was wet with tears, and was turned for a\ndry place. As I was reading the Bible through by course, it became more\nof a companion than ever before.\n\nThe next prayer-meeting was attended, and as they knelt during the\nseason of prayer I felt an impression to kneel with them. But the cross\nwas very great and I did not yield. I thought if I did so it would be\nreported to my parents, and they would probably forbid my coming to\nthese little meetings, which I so highly prized. But this was\nunprofitable reasoning, increasing the burden instead of bringing the\nrelief sought. I wept on my way home, and in my evening supplication\nrenewed my promise to be more faithful, let others do or say what they\nwould, if the like impression was ever again experienced. With\npermission I attended the next prayer-meeting at my uncle's, and, as if\nto test my faithfulness, two young women of my intimate associates came\nin, and sat one on each side of me. At the first season of prayer, as I\ndid not have that impression, I felt quite at ease, and thankful to my\nFather in heaven for excusing me. But the next united supplication, I\nfelt that I must unite with them in kneeling, and while one tried to\npull me up by the arm, with saying \"I'd be a little dunce if I was in\nthy place,\" the other sister pinched the other arm, \"Now, Laura Smith,\nbe a little Methodist, will thee? I'd be ashamed if I was thee; every\nbody will make fun of thee.\" But I kept my position and made no reply,\nbut secretly prayed for strength in my great weakness. But my fears\nwere fully realized. It was at once reported that Laura Smith would be\na Methodist if allowed by her parents. And for a long time no\npermission was given to attend those little prayer-meetings, my parents\nassigning this reason: \"This Methodist excitement is unprofitable,\nespecially for children. They have an overheated zeal, that is not\naccording to knowledge, and we do not think it best for thee to attend;\nwe want our children at a suitable age to be actuated by settled\nprinciple, not mere excitement.\" This reasoning by my dear father\nstrongly tempted me to give up my resolutions altogether. Until I was\neighteen I felt no liberty whatever in unburdening my troubled heart to\nmy dear parents. They were unacquainted with the longings of my poor\nsoul. Like the lone sparrow upon the house-top, I mourned many weeks,\nsought the solitary place for reading my Bible, and prayer; often\nwatered my pillow with tears, and longed for the day, and during the\nday longed for the night, in which I might pour out my sorrows to my\nHeavenly Father out of sight of human eye. I was conscious that my\nsadness was troubling my dear parents. Oh! how I prayed for light to\ndispel this darkness and doubt--sometimes ready to conclude that, as it\nwas my duty to obey my parents, the Lord would excuse me in waiting\nuntil I was of age. Yet in reading the many precious promises of the\nLord Jesus, \"Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I\nwill give you rest;\" \"Seek, and ye shall find,\" I found fresh courage.\nBut why do I not find this rest for this weary heart? Why do I not find\nthe way to seek for the hidden treasure I so much longed for? These\nqueries were continually revolving in my mind, without a satisfactory\nsolution. Sometimes I almost concluded that God was too good to send\nthe beings he created for his own glory to perdition to all eternity,\nand all would ultimately be saved; at other times, I could not\nreconcile universal salvation with the parable of Lazarus and the rich\nman, and was ready to conclude that salvation was for the elected few,\nand there were those who could not be saved, and I was among the lost.\nIn one of these seasons, of almost despair, I ventured to attend a\nMethodist meeting held in a private house, in company with my uncle.\nBeing at his house, I did not go home for permission. The minister was\na plainly dressed man; the opening hymn was new to me, but every line\nseemed especially for me:\n\n  \"God moves in a mysterious way,\n     His wonders to perform\"\n\nIt was read and sung in an impressive manner. The fourth stanza seemed\nspecially suited to my case:\n\n  \"Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,\n     But trust him for his grace;\n   Behind a frowning providence\n     He bides a smiling face.\"\n\nThis gave new light, new courage, and fresh hope sprang up, like\nstreaks of the morning sunbeam in the Eastern sky, preluding the full\nblaze of the orb of day. The prayer and the text upon which he based\nhis remarks were all flowing in the same channel. The exhortation was\nto the discouraged and despairing soul to remember that the darkest\ntime of night was just before the break of day, a remark I had never\nbefore heard. I returned home stronger than ever before, and ventured\nto tell mother of the good sermon preached by Isaac Puffer. But she was\nagain troubled, and reminded me of those we read of in Scripture, who\nwould compass sea and land to gain one proselyte, that when gained,\n\"were twofold more the child of hell than themselves.\" She also said\nthat my uncles would be well pleased to have me go with them. I assured\nher that neither of my four Methodist uncles had ever intimated a word\nto me on the subject. \"But,\" said she, \"actions sometimes speak louder\nthan words.\" This was not designed to discourage me, but darker than\never was the cloud of unbelief that filled my heart. Was Isaac Puffer a\nchild of hell? then there is nothing in religion, with any body. It was\nall a farce--all mere \"overheated zeal, not according to knowledge.\"\nAll mere \"religious excitement.\" I well-nigh distrusted all religion,\nand father's and mother's religion was the same as others, of no value.\nI had groped my way in midnight darkness, trying to find the true way,\nwhen there was none. In this despairing state, while on my way to my\ngrandfather's on an errand, I halted to listen to the mournful notes of\nthe forest birds at my left; I looked upon the field of waving grain at\nmy right, and burst into a flood of tears as I exclaimed, Oh, what a\nsin-stricken world is this! Every head of wheat is bowed in mourning\nwith poor me! Is there no balm in Gilead? is there no physician there\nto heal this sin-stricken world, this sin-sick soul of mine? Like a\nflash the answer came, Yes, Jesus is that balm; he shed his own\nprecious blood for me on Calvary, that I might live now, and for\nevermore! Yes, the healing balm is applied, and I _am saved!_ Oh, what\na fountain is opened for cleansing! My peace was like an overflowing\nriver. It seemed as if I could almost live without breathing--my tears\nwere brushed away by the breath of heaven. I stood a monument of\namazing mercy, praising God with every breath. All nature praising,\ninstead of mourning as it did a few moments before. O, how changed the\nscene! The birds now sent forth their notes of praise! The leaves of\nthe forest clapped their hands for joy, and the branches waved with\npraise! Every head of wheat was now bowed in sweet submission. O, what\na leveling of all nations of the earth was this baptism. I had been\nprejudiced against the Irish people, as I never had seen one of that\nnation until they came to our town, Lockport (as it was then called),\nby hundreds, to work on the Erie canal, that ran through a part of\nfather's farm; and as they were frequently passing our house drunk, I\nwas afraid of them. But now every soul seemed so precious, I thought I\ncould toil all my life long if I could become instrumental in bringing\none soul to the Savior who died to save sinners, though they might be\nthe greatest drunkards in that or any other nation. Jesus shed his\nblood to redeem all who would by faith accept salvation so freely\noffered. The African and Indian races were alike objects of redeeming\nlove. That was a fathomless fountain. After spending a little time in\nthis reverie, I went from this hallowed place to accomplish my errand,\nand met a neighbor, who looked at me earnestly and said, \"Laura, what's\nthe matter? are you sick?\" \"O, no; I'm not sick,\" and hurried on. And\nthe first greeting I received from grandfather was the same query, who\nreceived the same reply. I left for home as soon as the errand was\naccomplished, but as I was passing out of the door I met my Uncle\nAmericus with the same query, who also received the same answer. Oh,\nhow I wished father and mother could understand me, and the\noverwhelming sorrow I had waded through in search of this satisfying\nportion.\n\nIf any little differences arose among my younger brothers and sister,\nall melted away with a word from me. This unalloyed peace remained with\nme a number of days, and when the time arrived for the appointed\nprayer-meeting at Uncle Ira's, I had a great desire to attend it, and I\nhoped, by asking for permission to go, mother might ask for my reason.\nIn this I was disappointed with a denial. However, I continued to pray\nto Him who owned me as his child, to prepare the way in his own time.\nMy anxiety increased to do something for my dear Savior, who indeed was\nchief among ten thousand. I could drop a few words here and there, but\nwith great timidity, but nothing of my experience in this new life;\nthat was hid with Christ in God. I was anxious to attend that little\nprayer-meeting, where my mind first was arrested on the subject of my\nsoul's best interests. I often dreamed of earnestly praying or\nexhorting in that prayer-meeting, and would awaken myself in the\nexercise. I had a longing desire to invite to this gospel feast others,\nespecially my young associates.\n\nAs Isaac Puffer had an appointed meeting at a brother Crane's, half a\nmile distant, on Sabbath at four o'clock P. M., I asked father for\npermission to attend, hoping thereby to find liberty to open my pent-up\nfeelings to my dear parents, who so little understood me. But my hopes\nwere vain. Father said, in reply, \"Laura, I want thee never to ask me\nto go to a Methodist meeting again.\"\n\nO, what a blow was this for my trembling frame! The door closed more\ntightly than ever before. Not one word could I utter. I left the room,\nto find my old resort in the grove, to weep bitter tears of\ndisappointment. But widely different was this burden, now resting upon\nmy heart, from that mountain weight of sin and transgression borne a\nfew weeks previously. I read a few days before of the baptism of the\nLord Jesus, our perfect pattern. But he came to fulfill. Then I read of\nPhilip and the apostles who baptized after his ascension; and to my\nyoung and limited understanding I accepted the water baptism as an\noutward acknowledgment of the saving baptism of the Holy Ghost. I fully\nbelieved I had received the spiritual baptism, but I greatly desired to\nfollow the Lord Jesus wherever he might lead. I read \"Barclay's\nApology\" on that subject; yet my childhood mind dwelt much on what I\nread in these Bible examples. But to no human being did I present these\nimpressions. And I also found the example of singing, that I believed\nwas _vocal_, as I read, \"And they sang a hymn and went out.\" And it\nseemed right, for the present, for me to unite with the Methodists,\nwere it not for the opposition of my parents, that I felt sure would\nnot exist could they but understand me. It also seemed clearly\nimpressed upon my mind that, if my mind should become clear to unite\nwith that branch of the Christian Church, it would be for eighteen or\ntwenty years at longest. But why not always be my place, if it is my\nduty now? was a query that I much dwelt upon. I earnestly prayed that\nGod would send Caleb McComber to us, an intimate friend of my parents,\nand a noted minister among Friends.\n\nWithin a week my heart leaped for joy at the announcement by my father\nthat Caleb McComber was in the neighborhood.\n\n\"What has brought him here at this time? His brother (Dr. Smith) is all\nright; he has made no trouble of late in drinking,\" responded mother.\n\n\"I do not know, I am sure, what has induced him to come here at this\ntime, as there is no meeting of business on hand, for him to take this\njourney of nearly a hundred miles to attend,\" rejoined father.\n\nAh, the Lord has heard and answered prayer! He has heard the cry of\nthis poor child \"Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his\nbenefits.\" I could, with David, praise him with a full heart, and\nsought a lone place to return thanksgiving and praise to him who had so\nsignally answered my petition, and was confident that the same\nAll-seeing Eye and Directing Hand would prepare the way for the desired\ninterview.\n\nThe following day being the Sabbath, we listened to a sermon by Caleb\nMcComber that was thought very singular at that day for a Friend. His\ntext was 1 Corinthians xii, 6 and 7; \"And there are diversities of\noperations, but it is the same God which worketh all in all.\" He\nreferred to the diversities of denominations, that were as families\ncomposing the one true Church. And in this diversity of operations\nthere were those whose impressions of duty were clearly given in regard\nto complying with outward ordinances, water baptism and the\nLord's-supper; and if these impressions were not complied with, a loss\nwould be sustained in spiritual life. And he exhorted to faithfulness\nin obeying our Lord and Master. This discourse appeared as directly\naddressed to this trembling child as did that of Isaac Puffer.\n\nAt the close of the meeting, said one of the elders to another, \"Did\nthou ever hear just such a sermon from a Friend? I thought it sounded\nlike a Presbyterian discourse.\" Said another: \"What ails Caleb to-day.\nI thought he preached like a Methodist.\" While these remarks were made\nI felt confident we had listened to a message from the Great Head of\nthe true Church by his servant.\n\nAs he dined with our nearest neighbor, in company with his\nhalf-brother, Dr. Isaac Smith, and wife, we all walked in company\nnearly to our home, and the two young women invited me to call. I\naccepted, with the excuse, for a drink of water (hoping for an\nopportunity of telling that good man that I desired to have a talk with\nhim, and for that purpose would call after dinner).\n\nBut while waiting for the glass of water, said Caleb McComber, \"Child,\nhow old art thou?\"\n\nThe reply was, \"Thirteen.\"\n\n\"I want thee to tell thy father and mother to come I here at three\no'clock this afternoon, and I want thee to come with them.\"\n\nI gladly performed my errand, and at three P. M. we were there. After a\nlittle space of silence he addressed the heads of families present,\nthen directed his remarks to us (the two young women and myself), at\nfirst rather general. Then he said: \"I want to say to one of you that\nthou hast passed through an experience far beyond thy years; thou hast\nknown what it was to ask for deliverance from sorrow and darkness, and\nthou hast also known what it was to receive the answer of peace from\nthy Heavenly Father that the world knows not of. Hold fast that thou\nhast received, that no man take thy crown. Be faithful in the little,\nand more will be given. Bear in mind that little things are little\nthings, but to be faithful in little things is something great.\"\n\nWith exhortations to faithfulness and encouragement, this was to me an\nundoubted evidence that He whose ear is ever open to the cry of his\nchildren had most signally answered prayer in this clear and definite\nsearching of my heart. Very near and dear was that faithful\nnursing-father brought to this little child's heart. With all freedom,\nI could have related to him the obstacles that appeared in the way of\nduty with me. But at that hour my feelings were too deep for utterance.\nInstead of remaining longer, as was my impression, I returned home with\nmy parents, with the view of returning for a more private interview\nwhen I could better command my feelings.\n\nWhen about to return, I began to reason over the propriety of going\nback. Certainly that good man had said all I could ask, both in his\nsermon and in the religious opportunity in the family. And now there\nmight be danger of going too far. And there are those two young women,\nwho made sport of me in that prayer-meeting, where I knelt while others\nled in prayer. Now they would make more sport than ever, as there are\nso many there I could not speak to him without their knowing it, and I\nshrank from going. I feared John Bunyan's \"lions in the way;\" but if I\nhad been faithful I would have found them chained, as were his. For it\nwas hard for me to give up the more private interview, as I was very\nanxious to secure an interview between that minister and my dear\nparents, as I was sure he understood me much better than they. But I\nneglected my duty in this. O, how weak was human nature!\n\nI had previously thought I would never again offend my loving Savior,\nbut would follow him through evil as well as good report. O, how\nprecious his cleansing blood appeared to me! It seemed as if the drops\nthat fell in his agony in the Garden of Gethsemane possessed power to\ncleanse a world of sin and pollution. Yet I was not faithful in the\nlittle. Although my parents never after forbade my going to a Methodist\nor any other meeting, yet I saw it grieved them as I frequently\nattended those prayer-meetings, but never to the neglect of our own,\nand was often impressed to speak or offer prayer, but did not yield. I\nfound, to my sorrow, that these omissions produced poverty of soul, and\noften cried, \"O, my leanness! my leanness!\" In secret many tears were\nshed over the loss of that joy that had been my experience.\n\nLittle by little the candle of the Lord that shone so brightly became\ndim, and at the close of one year I sought the society of the gay and\nmirthful, more effectually to drown my bitter regrets for having turned\naside from the path so clearly marked out for me. I fully realized that\nthe dark cloud overshadowing me was the result of disobedience.\n\nIn company with a few of my companions, I attended the funeral of an\ninfant in our town. The service was conducted by a Baptist minister,\nwho had just come into the place. There was nothing in his remarks that\nattracted my special attention. After the meeting closed, and people\nwere leaving, the minister passed on a little distance, and turned\nback, as if something had been forgotten. Pressing through the crowd,\nhe ascended the porch, and came directly to me, looking earnestly at\nme, as he reached his hand for mine, saying:\n\n\"I felt as if I could not leave this place without asking this young\nwoman a few questions. Have you ever experienced religion?\"\n\nThis came upon me like a clap of thunder, he, being an entire stranger,\nasking a question I never had occasion to answer. I hesitated, as I had\nnever intimated a word of my experience to any human being. My first\nthought was to deny, but like a flash came the words of Jesus, \"He that\ndenieth me before men, him will I also deny before my Father and his\nholy angels. No; I can not--I will not, though I die. With this thought\nI frankly replied:\n\n\"I think I have.\"\n\n\"Do you now enjoy it?\"\n\n\"I do not\"\n\nThis relieved me from the dilemma of being a disgrace to the cause of\nChrist, as a number of my gay companions were with me, also those\nChristian young people to whom I had listened with interest in prayer\nand exhortations. But searching remarks from him followed. Still\nholding my hand, he said:\n\n\"You have known of earnest pleading for the pardon of sin; and you have\nknown what it was to rejoice, as your prayers were answered. You have\nknown your duty, and did it not, and have brought yourself into\ndarkness. Do not occupy this dangerous ground longer. Return to jour\nfirst love. Do your first work over; and He who is abundant in mercy\nwill again accept you. May God grant his blessing upon you! Good bye.\"\n\nAnd he left me bathed in tears.\n\nThese earnest words reopened the many wounds that many neglected duties\nhad made. I could not doubt but Elder Winchell was as truly sent from\nGod to deliver this message as was Caleb McComber, for whom I prayed in\nmy distress. But now the Holy Spirit had sought me out, unasked for, to\nwarn me of the danger in the effort to occupy neutral ground, as I had\nconcluded to do until I was of age. I saw more clearly that I was\nresponsible to my Savior, who had done great things for me, whereof I\ndid rejoice with exceeding great joy.\n\nAgain my Bible became my daily companion, with prayer for my Savior's\ndirecting hand. But my parents were again troubled, as those first\nimpressions returned in full force. I intimated my condition of mind to\nmy parents, but, with my natural timidity, not as freely as I ought.\nThey still attributed these impressions to the influence of my\nMethodist uncles, and considered their duty was to place these\nrestraints upon their child. Father and mother had requested to become\nmembers of the Friends' Society while three of their children were\nunder seven years, and requested for us, making us equivalent to\nbirthright members, according to the usage of our Society. From the\ntime of my Christian experience, I was never in sympathy with the\nsystem of birthright membership. I believed it to be a source of\nweakness, instead of spiritual life in this or any other Christian\nbody, and that all members of the Church militant should become united\nby a heart-felt experience. I fully realized the loss I was warned to\nshun by yielding to the earnest desires of my dear parents, who were\nconscientious in their restraint. They said, in after years, that they\nwere laboring under a mistake, as was their timid child, in not more\nfaithfully following those early impressions of duty. I was not\nfaithful in the little, consequently more was withheld. My great\nmistake was the lack of faith, in not fully returning to my Father's\nhouse, where the little wandering prodigal would have been received,\nand the new best robe again granted, and the rough way would have been\nmade smooth, and the impassable mountain that seemed to rise so high\nwould have melted away before the life-giving beams of the Sun of\nrighteousness. But I yielded to my timidity, and the conclusion was\nreached to live a quiet Christian life, with my Bible and secret\ncommuning with my dear Lord and Savior in secret prayer, as I could not\ngive up a strictly religious life. But dimly did die lamp of life burn,\ncompared with its former brightness.\n\nThe greatest source of retrograding in the divine life is\nunfaithfulness in the performance of known duty. Many of the clouds\nthat overshadow us we bring by withholding more than is meet, and it\ntends to poverty of soul. The talent committed to our charge is to be\noccupied, and is always doubled when occupied by its possessor; but, as\nI saw many, in whom I had confidence as living a quiet Christian\nlife--and this was more congenial to my natural feeling--I reached the\nconclusion to make my Bible and secret prayer my companions as long as\nI lived, and a Christian life in the Society of my parents' choice.\n\nAt the early age of sixteen I became acquainted with Charles Haviland,\nJr., a young man who was acquainted with the Savior's pardoning love,\nwhose father and mother were both acknowledged ministers in the Society\nof Friends. From him I accepted a proposition of marriage, and on the\n3d of 11th month, 1825, our marriage was consummated at Friends'\nMeeting, in Lockport, Niagara County, New York, according to the usage\nof Friends. The following Spring we commenced housekeeping in our own\nhome, in Boyalton Township, nine miles east of Lockport, and my dear\nparents and family removed to Michigan Territory. Although parting from\nthem was severe, yet with my young and devoted husband I was contented\nand happy as was possible to be, with so many reminders of the cloud\nthat rested over me in my spiritual horizon, with all my constant\nstriving for its removal. Phoebe Field, an eminent minister among\nFriends, appointed a meeting in our neighborhood, in which she dwelt\nupon the necessity of receiving daily nourishment from the true and\nliving Vine to become fruit-bearing branches, and remarked that there\nwere those whose religious experience seemed divergent from the manner\nin which they were brought up, and through unfaithfulness had well-nigh\nlost sight of the highway of holiness, in the mistaken view of\nneutrality, when there was not an inch of such ground all the way from\nyears of responsibility to the grave. We are gathering with Christ or\nscattering abroad. This earnest discourse so clearly defined my own\ncondition, that I renewed my many broken vows, and was almost persuaded\nto yield the unsubdued will, and hope was indulged that the Father of\nunbounded mercy, in his illimitable love, would again reveal himself in\nbreaking the bread of life.\n\nSeptember, 1829, we removed to Michigan Territory, and settled in\nRaisin, Lenawee County, within three miles of my parents, brothers, and\nsister, with our two little sons, to share with others the privations\nof a new country, as well as advantages of cheap land. As there were a\nnumber of our Society in this vicinity, a Friends' Meeting was\norganized, in which we all had an interest, and endeavored to maintain\nit in the usual order of our Society. But no true peace was mine, I was\nstill a wanderer from the true Church militant. I once knew the good\nShepherd's voice, but was now too far away to recognize it. In these\nsad remembrances I sought a subterfuge behind which to hide in a false\nrest. Eagerly I read a book on that subject, and drank its plausible\narguments without stint. It was a panacea, a temporary opiate to quiet\nthe vacillating condition of a restless mind; yet my Bible was not laid\naside, and many portions of Scripture were vigilantly brought to prove\nthis specious error to be a radical truth; and two years in this dead\nfaith I lived a dying life. But I found my investigations were not for\nthe whole truth, but was dwelling upon the love and benevolence of God\nto the exclusion of justice as an attribute of the Lord, as well as\nmercy, and decided to accept the whole truth, and abide its searchings;\nand sought for it in the written Word diligently, as for hidden\ntreasures In reading Paul's epistle to the Hebrews, chapter vi, I\nfound, \"It is impossible for those who were once enlightened and have\ntasted of the heavenly gift, and were made partakers of the Holy Ghost,\nand have tasted of the good Word of God, and the powers of the world to\ncome, if they shall fall away, to renew them again to repentance,\nseeing they crucify to themselves the Son of God afresh, and put him to\nan open shame.\" Oh, how these words thrilled my whole being! Again and\nagain they were reviewed. No Hope! no hope for a lost soul like mine!\nwere like burning coals upon my poor heart. I was once enlightened and\ntasted of the heavenly gift; but how dark have been these years. Oh!\nhow soon did the lamp of life become dim through disobedience. I can\nnever again drink of that fountain of love that once filled my soul to\noverflowing. But I had fallen away, and could never again be renewed,\nhaving crucified to myself the Son of God afresh, and put him to an\nopen shame, by not honoring such a glorious Redeemer, as was my own\npersonal Savior. O, what delusion to have indulged in the vain hope\nthat I was serving him in a silent, quiet life, and then cover over all\nthis unrest with the idea that God was too abundant in mercy to cast\noff any for whom he died to save. Day and night this terrible thought\nfollowed me for months, \"I am a lost soul! irretrievably lost. No hope!\nEternally lost!\"\n\nAs I had never intimated to my dear companion the vacillating condition\nof mind, and the effort in finding rest, neither should he be troubled\nwith the knowledge that his wife was a lost soul; neither should our\nlittle ones on arriving to years of religious understanding ever know\nthat their mother was a lost soul. The midnight hour often witnessed\nmany bitter tears of regret over the awful thought. So near perfect\ndespair, I looked upon beast, bird, or even the most loathsome reptile,\nand grudged their happiness of living and dying without responsibility.\nThese sad forebodings seriously affected my health, and my anxious\nhusband and parents feared some serious disease was preying upon me. I\nsometimes thought the sooner I sank into the grave the better, as my\ndoom must be met. O, that I could but claim the privilege of the\nprodigal, in returning to the Father's house, and of being accepted,\nthough a great way off. O that I never had been born! O that I had\nfollowed that loving Savior's voice, so often clearly heard. It is now\ntoo late, too late! O that I had returned to my first love when within\nmy reach. But I rejected the teaching of the Holy Spirit, and justly am\nI now rejected. In this distressing despair I opened a little book--the\nChristian experience of one whose exercises of the mind traced through\nmy own experience, even to my present despairing state, as nearly as I\ncould have related it in my own words. Through the instrumentality of a\nsimilar experience in another, who was restored and was long a useful\nChristian, I was encouraged to return, and found the healing balm.\nNever can I forget the thrill of joy that ran through my whole being as\nI laid aside that little book. I saw that I had misapprehended the\nmeaning of the passages of Scripture that seemed to describe my\ncondition, and that served to confirm my despair. I saw that those\nreferred to, had so far fallen, and so often rejected the Holy Spirit's\nteachings, as not to realize their condition, and therefore lost sight\nof the necessity of a Redeemer. This was not, nor ever had been, my\ncondition. Then I read Esau's seeking the blessing, \"carefully with\ntears,\" that I had also long dwelt upon as my condition. Here, too, was\na vivid thought, that he sought the lost blessing to subserve self,\ninstead of glorifying God. Here the bright star of hope pierced through\nthe cloud. Is it possible that I can go with confidence to that Father\nwho has so long borne with this unbelieving, doubting, rebellious\nchild? Why has he not cut off this cumberer of the ground long ago? His\nlong-suffering and unbounded mercy, O how free! how unfathomable! With\nmany tears of gratitude, mingled with new hope, new aspirations, the\nbright beam of day radiating from every promise, I could now fully\naccept the Lord Jesus as my mediator and restorer. By faith, I could\nfully trust the poor prodigal in his hand. O, what losses we sustain\nthrough unbelief. I have felt most easy in leaving my experience on\nrecord, as a warning to young Christians to shun the depth of despair\ninto which I tank through unfaithfulness and unbelief. \"By grace ye are\nsaved, through faith.\" Increasing faith, strength, and peace, with\nrestored health, was my rich experience.\n\n\nANTI-SLAVERY WORK.\n\nOur family, with others, united with Elizabeth Margaret Chandler, who\norganized in our neighborhood the first anti-slavery society in our\nState. This was unsatisfactory to the ruling portion of our Society, as\nit had cleared its skirts many years ago by emancipating all slaves\nwithin its pale. Elizabeth M. Chandler was of the Hicksite division of\nFriends, and as Presbyterians and other religious denominations came\ninto our anti-slavery society, meetings were frequently opened with\nprayer, and that was thought to be \"letting down the principles of\nancient Friends.\" And the subject of slavery was considered too\nexciting for Friends to engage in, by many Friends of that day. I began\nto query whether it would not be a relief to me, and also to my\nfriends, to become disconnected with that body, as I saw clearly my\npath of duty would not be in accordance with the generality of our\nSociety. After making it a subject of earnest prayer, I became settled\nas to the course to pursue, and concluded to unburden my heavy heart to\nmy parents as I had done, to my beloved companion, which I did after\nour Sabbath meeting. We mingled our tears together. Father referred, to\nthe same proscribing spirit they exercised over me in my early\nexperience, that was now exercised over them. Father and mother wished\nme to defer sending in my request to become disconnected with our\nSociety, as they, too, might think best to pursue the same course. This\nwas a severe trial for each of us. Father had been an acknowledged\nminister of the Gospel nearly thirty years, and mother occupied the\nstation of an elder nearly the same time. We, too, had become active\nmembers in this branch of the Christian Church. But the conclusion was\nfully reached within two months after our little conference over this\nimportant step, and the following letter of resignation was sent to our\nbusiness meeting:\n\n\"We, the undersigned, do say there is a diversity of sentiment existing\nin the Society on the divine authority of the Holy Scriptures, the\nresurrection of the dead, and day of judgment, justification by faith,\nthe effect of Adam's fall upon his posterity, and the abolition of\nslavery, which has caused a disunity amongst us; and there being no\nhope of a reconciliation by investigation, ministers being told by\nruling members that there is to be no other test of the soundness of\ntheir ministry but something in their own breasts, thus virtually\ndenying the Holy Scriptures to be the test of doctrine;--we, therefore,\ndo wish quietly to withdraw from the Monthly Meeting, and thus resign\nour right of membership with the Society of Friends.\"\n\nThis resignation was signed by Daniel Smith, Sene Smith, Charles\nHaviland, Jun., Laura S. Haviland, Ezekiel Webb, Sala Smith, and\nfourteen others. A few returned, but the greater united with other\nChristian bodies, A few months after this there was a division in the\nMethodist Episcopal Church, on account of slavery. They were called\nWesleyan Methodists. As this branch of our Father's family was the\nnearest our own views, we were soon united with them. Our\ntestifications from Friends were said by other denominations to be\nsufficient to be accepted as Church letters, as our offenses named\ntherein were \"non-attendance of meetings for discipline, and attending\nmeetings not in accordance with the order of our Society.\" This was the\nimport of nearly or quite all who were disowned of our company. At that\nday, all were dealt with as offenders, and were regularly disowned, as\nour discipline at that time made no provisions for withdrawals. About a\nyear after this, the yearly meeting of Friends in Indiana divided on\nthe subject of slavery. No slavery existed in the society; yet its\ndiscussion was deemed improper, and created disunity sufficient for\nsevering that body for a number of years, when they were invited to\nreturn, without the necessity of acknowledgments.\n\nAbout this time we opened a manual labor school on our premises,\ndesigned for indigent children. With that object in view, we took nine\nchildren from our county house (Lenawee), and I taught them, with our\nfour children of school age, four hours each day. The balance of the\nday was divided for work and play. The girls I taught house-work,\nsewing, and knitting. The boys were taken into the farm work by my\nhusband and brother Harvey Smith. As our county superintendents of the\npoor gave us no aid, we found our means insufficient to continue our\nwork on this plane. After one year of this work we secured homes for\nthe nine children, except two invalids, who were returned to the county\nhouse. We then placed our school on a higher plane, on the Oberlin plan\nof opening the school for all of good moral character, regardless of\nsex or color. At that day (1837) there was not a school in our young\nState that would open its door to a colored person. And as my brother,\nHarvey Smith, had attended the Oberlin Institute, he united with us in\nthis enterprise, and sold his new farm of one hundred and sixty acres,\nand expended what he had in erecting temporary buildings to accommodate\nabout fifty students. The class of students was mostly of those\ndesigning to teach. Our principals were from Oberlin during the first\ntwelve years of the \"Raisin Institute.\" The first three years it was\nconducted by P. P. Roots and his wife, Anna B., who were excellent\nChristians. When they left, to open a similar institution at West\nPoint, Lee County, Iowa, John Patchin became their successor, and\nconducted the school with equal ability three years. After uniting in\nmarriage with a teacher in Oberlin, he was assisted by his wife. These\nthorough teachers earned for our institute the name of being one of the\nbest in our State. Students were sought for teachers in our own and\nadjoining counties. Although our abolition principles were very\nunpopular at that day, as we generally had from one to three colored\nstudents in our school, yet the thorough discipline given in the\nstudies drew the young people of the best intellect from the\nsurrounding country. There were those who came from fifty to one\nhundred miles to prepare for teaching or for a collegiate course.\nHundreds of young people who enjoyed the privileges our school afforded\ncame to us with their prejudices against colored people and our\nposition in regard to them; but they soon melted away, and went they\nknew not where. It was frequently said if we would give up the vexed\nabolition question, and let the negroes alone, Raisin Institute would\nbecome the most popular school in the State.\n\nAs a sample of many others, I will notice a young lady from Jackson\nCounty, who was brought to us by her father to become qualified for\nteaching. But her sensibilities were so shocked at meeting in her\ngrammar-class a colored man that she returned to her room weeping over\nher disgrace, and resolved to write her father to come and take her\nhome immediately. But the other young women persuaded her to attend the\nrecitations assigned her, when to her surprise the same young colored\nman was in the advanced arithmetic class. And while impatiently waiting\nfor her father to come and take her from this \"nigger school\" (as she\nand many others called it), a letter came from him advising her to\nremain, as he had expended so much in fitting her for two or three\nterms there; although if he had known that a negro would have been\nallowed to attend her class he would not have taken her there. She soon\nbecame reconciled, and before a half-term closed, when she threatened\nto leave at all events (as she read her father's letter), she came to\nthat colored man to assist her in intricate parsing lessons. Before the\nclose of the first term she as frequently applied to James Martin, her\ncolored classmate, for assistance in solving difficult problems in\nmathematics as to any of the others. She was one of our best students;\nbut this deep-rooted prejudice went, she knew not how, as with very\nmany others.\n\nAs to religious privileges in our school, our prayer-meetings were held\nbi-weekly, Sabbath and Wednesday evenings, and ministers of various\ndenominations frequently appointed meetings in our school on the\nSabbath. While the Rev. John Patchin had charge of the institution he\ngenerally preached Sabbath evening, instead of the prayer-meeting.\n\nIn the third year of our school our two older sons made a profession of\nreligion, with a number of other students, which was cause of great\nrejoicing. Surely, we were blessed above measure. Within two years\nafter we were blessed with another shower of divine favor in the\nconversion of our two older daughters. Not unfrequently were these four\nchildren's voices uplifted in vocal supplication at the family altar.\nWe were surely repaid more than a hundred-fold for all our toiling, and\nheavy burdens borne in founding Raisin Institute. As the fleeing\nfugitive ever found a resting-place and cheer in our home, we richly\nearned the cognomen of \"nigger den;\" yet Heaven smiled and blessed our\nwork. We had many sympathizing friends in the Society from which we\nwere disconnected as members, even with those who had deemed us too\nradical. There was unity with us in our work that brought us together\nin after years.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nBEREAVEMENTS.\n\n\nOur last chapter left us rejoicing in success, but how soon did deepest\nsorrow take its place. A dream seemed sent to prepare me for the severe\nordeal so near at hand. I thought I was standing in our front yard\nlooking eastward and an angel sitting on a bay horse appeared in the\nplace of the sun's rising, coming to earth on some mission, gliding\nover the tree tops toward our house, where were father, mother, my\nsister Phoebe, and my husband, who held in his arms our little babe. I\nstarted to inform them that an angel was coming to earth on some\nerrand, when his advance was so rapid I was likely to lose sight of\nhim, and halted to watch his flight. He seemed to alight in our yard\nnear me, and smiled as he said, \"Follow thou me.\" \"I will,\" I\nresponded, as soon as I bid Charles and our folks farewell. The\nbeautiful personage assumed a firmer tone, as he said, \"Let the dead\nbury their dead, but follow thou me.\" At this command I responded, \"I\nwill,\" and followed him to the graveyard, where he left me. And I awoke\nwith that angelic figure, with that sweet, yet solemn, voice ringing in\nmy ear.\n\nI related the dream, with its clear impression in my mind, to my\nhusband, who replied, \"That is a significant dream, and I think\nindicates death. I think we shall be called to part with our infant\ndaughter Lavina; and it is quite evident that consumption is fast\nhastening our sister Phoebe to her long home.\" She was my own sister,\nwho married my husband's brother, Daniel Haviland. He continued his\nremarks, by making suggestions as to the course we would feel it best\nto pursue about a burying-place for our little daughter, in case of a\nrefusal of Friends to allow a plain marble slab, with her name and date\nof birth and death in their burying-ground; and suggested the corner of\nour orchard as a pleasant place, to which I assented. After spending\nhalf an hour in this conversation, he went out to his work. I prayed\nfor my Savior's hand to lead me in whatever trial it was necessary for\nme to pass through.\n\nLittle did I think of the heavier stroke which was first to fall. A few\ndays after this dream I was charging myself with being visionary; yet a\nfew of these most impressive dreams, I believe, have been designed for\nour instruction. My husband was seized with a heavy cold, accompanied\nby a severe cough, that was increasing; yet he was able to be about the\nhouse and barn, giving directions, as to outdoor work, but nothing\nappeared alarming, when I was aroused by a startling dream of a coffin\nbeing brought into our front room by four men, of whom I inquired who\nwas dead. The answer was, \"A connection of yours.\" \"I want to see him,\nfor that coffin appears to be for a small man,\" was my reply. \"He is a\nsmall man,\" was the rejoinder, \"and you shall see him.\" Upon this, the\nclosed coffin was brought to me, and I arose and followed the\npall-bearers to the graveyard. As the people were standing around the\nopen grave to see the coffin lowered, I saw a little child standing on\nthe very edge of the grave opposite to me. I exclaimed, \"Do take that\nchild away, for it will cave into the grave after its father!\" At that\ninstant the light sand under its feet gave way, and, as it struck the\ncoffin, the loud, hollow sound awoke me, trembling as with a fit of\nague, and with the strong impression that I was soon to part with my\nbeloved companion and infant daughter, although both were sweetly\nsleeping by my side. With this thrill through my whole being, I\nresorted to prayer for their restoration to health, if consistent with\nthe divine will.\n\nAlthough my husband had enjoyed good health a number of years, and had\nnot for seven years previously called upon a physician, yet I now\nresolved to persuade him to call for one at once. As the clock struck\nfour, and as I was leaving the bed to light the fire, my husband awoke,\nand said he had enjoyed the most refreshing sleep he had had since\ntaking this cold, and felt so well he thought he soon should be rid of\nit. Whenever I spoke the chattering of my teeth revealed my agitation,\nand he expressed fear lest I should be ill from the hard chill. But\nlittle did he understand the upheavings of my troubled heart. Soon a\nsevere paroxysm of coughing gave the opportunity to suggest the idea of\nsending for a physician. At length he consented, as he said, to please\nme, as he thought this cough would soon give way. But while I went to\nour boy's study room to awaken our son Harvey to go for the doctor, a\nsevere pain in the region of the lungs was cutting every breath.\n\nThe doctor was soon with us, but he thought there were no discouraging\nsymptoms apparent. I seat for Father Haviland, who also thought, as did\nthe doctor, that I was unreasonably troubled; but during the following\nnight he expressed doubts of recovery himself, and requested his will\nto be written, which was done. As his fever increased, great effort was\nmade to control our feelings in his presence. At one time, as he awoke,\nhe discovered fast-falling tears, and said: \"Do not weep for me, my\ndear wife; remember those beautiful lines:\n\n  'God moves in mysterious way,\n     His wonders to perform.'\n\nWe are not to\n\n  'Judge the Lord by feeble sense,\n     But trust him for his grace;\n   Behind a frowning providence\n     He hides a smiling face'\n\nOur separation will be short at longest. Then we shall be reunited\nwhere there is no sorrow--no more dying--in that glorious home. Two\ndays ago there seemed a little cloud; but prayer was answered, and the\ncloud was all removed. The overshadowing now is that of peace and\nlove.\" He called for the children. Looking upon us all, he said, \"O,\nhow dear you all are to me!\" Calling each by name, he gave advice and\nexhortations as none but a departing husband and father could leave\nwith his family--a legacy more precious than all the golden treasures\nof earth. Then he added: \"I want you, my dear children, to promise me\nthat you will meet your father in heaven. Will you meet me there?\"\nTaking our little babe in his hands, he kissed it and said, \"Dear\nlittle Lavina will soon be with her father,\" and closed with the\nprayer: \"O Lord, I commit my dear wife and children into thy bands.\nThou art the widow's God, and a loving Father to fatherless children.\"\n\nThe words of the dying Christian, beginning\n\n  \"What's that steals, that steals upon my frame?\n       Is it death-is it death?\"\n\nwere sung by his bedside, and as the last line,\n\n       \"All is well-all is well,\"\n\nwas reached, he raised his hands, and repeated, \"O, hallelujah to the\nLamb!\" Then, turning to me, he added, \"My dear, I want these lines sung\nat my funeral.\" His last words were, \"Come, Lord Jesus, thy servant is\nready,\" and with a sweet smile his happy spirit was wafted home, March\n13, 1845.\n\nHis disease was inflammatory erysipelas, at that time entirely new, and\nnot understood by our physicians. It passed through our portion of the\nState, a sweeping epidemic, in the Spring of 1845, and proved fatal in\nmost cases. My dear mother, who was with us during this week of sorrow,\nwas taken home with the same disease, and in one week her happy spirit\ntook its flight to God who gave it. She, too, left us hi the triumphs\nof faith. She had not left us an hour before brother Daniel came for me\nto go to his dying wife, as she was calling for mother, and he did not\ndare inform her that mother was dangerously ill. I took my little\nemaciated babe upon a pillow, and went to my dear sister, who was so\nsoon to leave us. Her first query was, \"How is our dear mother?\"\n\n\"Mother is a happy spirit in heaven,\" was the reply, \"and sister Phoebe\nwill soon meet her there.\"\n\nHer reply was: \"It is well; but I had hoped to meet her once more in\nthis world--yet we'll soon meet, to part no more forever. She soon\nfollowed brother Charles; but I trust we will all meet one day, an\nunbroken band. O how I wish I could see brother Ira!\" an absent brother\nfor whom she had often expressed great anxiety in regard to his\nspiritual and everlasting welfare.\n\nThe same burden of soul for the same brother had also rested on the\nheart of our sainted mother, whose funeral took place two days later.\nWithin one week sister Phoebe died in peace. Here was the third wave of\nsorrow rolling over us.\n\nFrom this house of mourning I was removed to my home with the same\ndisease that had taken my husband and mother; and a number of our\nneighbors Were going the same way. My father and father-in-law thought\nme dangerously ill-chills and fever, with stricture of the lungs, that\nmade respiration painful. They were very anxious to have the best help\nthat could be obtained at once; \"for,\" said father, \"what is done for\nthee must be done quickly\" I told him that every one who had been taken\nwith this disease had died, as physicians of each school did not\nunderstand it. But I would return to my home, as they suggested; but\nfelt most easy to trust myself with water treatment, and would like to\ntake a shower-bath every two hours, and try that treatment twelve\nhours. This was done, and every bath brought relief to respiration, and\nmy lungs became entirely free, though my neck and throat were still\nbadly swollen and inflamed. Cold applications, frequently applied, soon\novercame that difficulty, and in three days the disease seemed entirely\nconquered.\n\nA relapse from taking cold, however, threw me into a stupor; but I was\naroused by an expression of a neighbor, as he said: \"She is not\nconscious, and never will be, unless something is done; and if she were\na sister of mine a doctor would be here as soon as I could bring him.\"\n\n\"I will see if I can get an expression from her,\" said my brother\nHarvey.\n\n\"If we can only learn mother's wish it shall be granted,\" said my\nanxious son Harvey.\n\nAs I heard their remarks a strong impression came over me that if I\nwere placed in charge of a physician I should not live two days, but if\nI could tell them to shower my head and neck often I would recover. As\nI looked upon my anxious fatherless children around my bed I made an\neffort to speak, but my parched and swollen tongue could not for some\ntime utter a word. The answer to earnest prayer came from Him who\nnumbers even the very hairs of our head. As my brother took my hand,\nsaying, \"If you wish a physician press my hand, or if you wish water\ntreatment move your head on the pillow,\" I could not move my head in\nthe least, and my only hope was to say no. When asked if I wished a\ndoctor sent for, I prayed that my tongue might utter words of direction\nfor the sake of my fatherless children, and said, \"No.\"\n\n\"Do you want cold compresses, or shall we gently shower over a thin\ncloth on the swollen and inflamed portion of your neck and head?\"\n\n\"Shower.\"\n\n\"Cold or tepid?\"\n\n\"Well.\"\n\n\"If you mean well-water, how much?\"\n\n\"Big pitcher.\"\n\n\"How often?\"\n\n\"Twenty minutes.\"\n\nSaid my son Harvey, \"It shall be done, if I sit by her every minute\nto-night.\"\n\nI felt a positive impression that my Heavenly Father had answered my\nprayer directly, and granted an assurance, in the token of recovery,\nand I praised the Lord for his \"loving kindness, O, how free.\" With\nthis assurance I fell back in a stupor, except a dreamy consciousness\nof their showering, which was faithfully done, with the assistance of\nmy brother. At twelve o'clock I awoke, and inquired where all the\npeople were that filled the room a little while before, and was\nsurprised to learn the hour of night. They said, as my breathing became\nmore natural, the neighbors had left and the children retired.\n\nI could speak easily, and the purple appearance of the skin had\ndisappeared. In the morning the pain was entirely gone, but the\nsoreness was still severe. But with frequent changes of compresses\nduring the day, the swelling very much subsided. I wondered why father\ndid not come, as he had not been to see me since sister Phoebe's\nfuneral. My brother informed me that he had a chill during the funeral,\nand had not been able to leave. As he had a few fits of the ague some\nweeks previously, I supposed it was a return of that disease. The day\nfollowing brother Sala came, and in reply to my inquiry after my\nfather, said he was no better, but sent me a request to be very careful\nof myself, and hoped I would soon recover, and left in seeming haste to\nsee brother Patchin. But I sent for him to come and tell me more about\nfather. He soon came with brother Patchin and brother Dolbeare. He then\ntold me that father had the same disease that had taken my husband and\nour mother, and he also said that it was father's request that for the\nsake of my large family of children, who were recently bereft of their\nfather, that I would give up the idea of coming to see him.\n\nBut I could not be satisfied without going to see my dear father once\nmore, and yet, the pleading of my dear children was almost too much to\nforego. \"We have just lost our father; now what should we do if our\nmother should be taken from us?\" \"But if I am rolled in quilts and laid\non a bed in the wagon, I am confident I can be taken to father's house\nsafely\"--distant nearly three miles. In this way I was taken to my\ndying father, though unable to walk across the room without assistance.\nAs soon as he learned of my coming, he directed them to lay me on the\nbed until I was rested. In a few minutes he sent them to bring me to\nhim. As my son and brother led me to his bedside, he placed the cold\npurple fingers over my pulse, and said, \"I am so glad to see thee, but\nI feared it would be too much for thee to bear. There is a little\nfeverish excitement about thee yet. I am more concerned for thee than\nfor the rest of my children, on account of thy large family, that will\nso much need their mother's counsel and care. I want to say to thee,\nLook up to the widow's God for guidance, for wisdom from him is so much\nneeded, with the heavy responsibilities now resting upon thee. Do not\nallow these bereavements to crush thy feeble frame. I have feared they\nhad already seriously affected thy health. I know thy anxiety to bring\nup thy children in the nurture and admonition of the Lord. And he will\ngrant ability to lead them to the Lamb of God, who shed his precious\nblood for us all.\" With other advice, he became weary, and said, \"Now\ntake her back to the other room, and lay her on the bed until rested.\"\nAnd during the few hours he lived he frequently sent for me to talk a\nfew minutes at a time, watching my pulse each time, until within a few\nmoments of the last farewell to earth.\n\nThere were six of his children present, to whom he gave his farewell\nblessing, leaving a bright evidence that all was well with him. \"In me\nthere is no merit. I am fully trusting in the merit of my crucified\nSavior, who shed his own precious blood for my redemption. I can say\nwith Job, 'I know that my Redeemer lives,' and because he lives I shall\nlive also.\" His last words, almost with his last breath, were, \"Here\nshe comes,\" and left this tabernacle for the building not made with\nhands, eternal in the heavens. Father and mother were lovely in their\nlives, and in their death were only two weeks divided. It seemed that\nmy last earthly prop was gone. Three weeks later my youngest child\nfollowed her father and grandparents to the spirit home. Within six\nweeks, five of my nearest and dearest ones were taken from me.\n\nThere was hardly a family within two miles of us but was bereft of one\nor two loved ones by this epidemic. Five widows (myself included) at\none time were standing around the death-bed of a near neighbor. Our\nfemale principal at that time, Emily Galpin, was taken with this\nepidemic, and died after three days' illness. A few hours previous to\nher death she requested a season of prayer, in which her husband, Rev.\nCharles Galpin, led. Her prospect was bright, and, clearly foreseeing\nthe ransomed throng she was soon to join, said she, \"Oh! how vain, how\ntransitory, does all earthly treasure appear at this hour--a mere\nbubble upon the water.\" About a half an hour before she left us, she\nsaid, \"Hark! don't you hear that beautiful music? Oh! what music; I\nnever heard anything like it! Don't you hear it?\" \"No, we do not hear\nit.\" Being in an ecstasy, she exclaimed, \"Look at that heavenly choir.\nDon't you see them? Don't you hear that sweetest of all music?\" \"We do\nnot see them nor hear them.\" \"There--they have left.\" A few minutes\nbefore her happy spirit took its flight, she again looked up very\nearnestly. \"There they are again. Oh, how sweet! how beautiful!\" And\ntaking leave of her husband and two children, sister and\nbrother-in-law, and of all present, committing her dear ones to the\nkeeping of the Lord Jesus, with the request that the two lines,\n\n  \"Rock of Ages, cleft for me,\n   Let me hide myself in thee,\"\n\nbe placed upon the marble slab to mark her resting place, she fell\nasleep in Jesus.\n\nSuch fatality never before, nor since, visited Raisin as is 1845. In\nthose days of sorrow commingled with the rest of faith, that brought\npeace and joy even in affliction, my only reliance was the widow's God,\nfor wisdom I so much needed in the double responsibilities now resting\nupon me.\n\nAfter the death of my sweet babe, twenty-two months of age, and my\nrestoration to health, I looked over amounts of indebtedness with dates\nwhen due. I made an estimate of costs of harvesting and marketing the\ntwenty acres of wheat and other grains, and what must be retained for\nfamily use; and found I would be able to reach only about half the\namount due the following Autumn. I called on all our creditors within\nreach to inform them of probabilities, unless I could find sale for a\nportion of the stock. But none of the creditors wanted any of it. Said\none, to whom the largest amount was due, \"You do not think of taking\nyour husband's business and carrying it forward, do you?\" I replied, \"I\nthought of trying to do the best I could with it.\" With a look of\nsurprise, he said firmly, \"You are very much mistaken, Mrs. Haviland;\nyou can not do any such thing; you had much better appoint some man in\nwhom you have confidence to transact your business for you.\" I informed\nhim I had seven minor children left me, and I found seven hundred\ndollars of indebtedness, and it would cost money to hire an agent Then,\nI ought to know just where I stand, to enable me to look closely to\nexpenditures. \"Well, you can try it, but you'll find your mistake\nbefore six months have passed, and you'll see you had better have taken\nmy advice.\" I knew I was not accustomed to business of this sort. All\nthe other creditors whom I had seen spoke very kindly. Although these\nwords were not unkindly spoken, yet they were saddening to my already\nsad heart.\n\nI was too timid to go to the probate judge with any sort of ease for\ninstruction. In looking around me for some female friend to accompany\nme, I could find but very few who were not undergoing like trials with\nmyself, consequently I must submit to these new experiences, as\nwhatever was right for me to do was proper. I depended upon an all wise\nguiding Hand, who is ever ready to reach it forth to the trusting\nchild. I wrote to one, a few miles distant, to whom was due eighty\ndollars the ensuing Fall, that forty dollars would be all I should be\nable to meet. He called in a few days, and introduced himself saying\nthat he had received a statement from me that I could only pay him the\ncoming Fall fifty per cent on the eighty-dollar note he held against my\nhusband. Said he, in a hurried manner, \"I called to let you know that I\n_must have it all_ when it is due, as I have a payment to make on my\nfarm at that time, and I have depended on that\" I told him I would\ngladly pay him every penny of it the coming Fall, but it would be\nimpossible, as there were other demands equally pressing. \"Very well,\nthat is all I have to say, madam; I can not accept any such\narrangement; I shall put in a way to bring it. Good-by.\"\n\nHe left in haste for me to ponder all these things over, in doubts as\nto my ability to meet all these rough places of outside life. Perhaps I\nhad better leave this business with some man to deal with men. But\nprayer to the widow's God and comforting promises were my companions.\nHere was my only refuge and shelter in these storms. As I retired with\na burdened heart, that I was endeavoring to cast at the feet of my\nSavior, the widow's burden-bearer, I had a sweet dream of an angelic\nhost, that filled my room with a halo of glory, settled on every face,\nand those nearest my bed appeared in the form of persons dressed in\nbeautiful attire; others were sweet faces that looked upon me with\nsmiles of peace. As one took my hand, a familiar feeling sprang up,\nthat gave me confidence to ask for the name. \"My name is Supporter.\"\nAnd looking at the one standing near, \"And what is his name?\" \"That is\na woman, and her name is Influencer-of-hearts.\" Pointing to another\nstill more glorious in appearance, \"And who is that one?\" \"That is\nSearcher-of-hearts.\" \"Then you all bear the name of your missions to\nearth, do you?\" \"We do,\" replied Supporter. As I looked over this host\nthat filled my room I burst into a flood of tears for joy. I exclaimed,\n\"Oh! what missions are yours! so many wayward hearts to influence, so\nmuch of sin and wickedness that reigns in this world to search out.\" At\nthis said Searcher of hearts, \"Support her, for she needs it\" \"I do,\"\nand he reached for my other hand, and as both of my hands were held by\nSupporter, I realized a wave of strength to pass over me, filling my\nsoul. I awoke in an ecstacy. Yea, I will cast my care on Jesus and not\nforget to pray. Calm and sweet was this confidence in being cared for,\nand supported by an almighty arm.\n\nA few days after I saw the exacting man coming through my gate, which,\nfor a moment, caused a dread; but the second thought was, _all,_ all is\nwith my Savior. I met him with the usual greeting, and said, \"You have\ncalled to see about that claim you have against me.\" \"Yes, I have\ncalled to inform you that I shall not want any thing from you next\nFall, and perhaps shall not want more than half next year, as I have\nreceived one hundred dollars that I had supposed was lost, and as I was\ncoming within two miles I thought I would call and let you know of my\nconclusion.\" While I thanked him for the favor, secret praise ascended\nto Him who melts away the mountain that seems impassable, making a way\nwhere there seemed no way.\n\nThis may seem a small matter, but for me at that time it was a reason\nfor rejoicing at this unexpected turn of affairs. It was but one of\nmany similar cases, and none can more fully realize the blessing of\nthese reliefs than the widow of nearly two-score years, who never\nprevious to widowhood knew the burden of outside work in providing for\na large family, which was now added to continued care of the Raisin\nInstitute. Many night plans, for day execution, were made. I soon found\nsale for forty acres of the one hundred and sixty, which relieved me of\nthe most pressing demands.\n\nAt times responsibilities were so great, and burdens so crushing, that\nI was almost ready to falter. My greatest anxiety was to guide my dear\nchildren aright. The four older ones had resolved to follow the dear\nRedeemer, but the slippery paths of youth were theirs to walk in. The\nconsideration of these multiform cares at one time seemed of crushing\nweight. I questioned whether the burden I had so often left at the foot\nof the cross I had not taken up again, and whether I had as fully\nconsecrated self, with my dear children, to the Lord as he required. I\nwas endeavoring fully to yield _all_ into my Redeemer's hands for\nsafe-keeping. This was my constant prayer, yet this heavy burden during\na few days seemed unfitting me for the every-day duties devolving upon\nme. In family devotion I opened to the fifty-fourth chapter of Isaiah,\nwhere I found precious promises that I accepted for my own, and the\nheavy burden for my children was uplifted. Never did I experience\ngreater liberty in prayer, or exercise a stronger faith. Surely the\nsilver lining to this cloud appears. \"All thy children shall be taught\nof the Lord\" were precious words. I was afflicted and tossed with\ntempest, but a sweet promise followed. All the way through that chapter\nthe Comforter appeared with rich promises. With these before me I could\nfreely leave all my burden with the Lord. I saw by the eye of faith all\nmy seven children made acquainted with their Creator in the days of\ntheir youth. Although I never ceased asking, yet there has seemed an\naccompanying assurance. When from ten to sixteen years of age, my seven\nchildren yielded by living experience to the Savior's loving\ninvitation, \"Come unto me,\" that hour and day was victorious through\nfaith. That weight of burden never again returned! The entire yielding\nall into the care and keeping power of Him who doeth all things well,\nat that hour was complete. I could say, \"He leadeth me,\" without a\nshadow of doubt.\n\nAs fugitive-slaves were still making their resting-place with us, I\nhired one of them, named George Taylor, a few months through hay-making\nand harvest. He had made his escape from a Southern master who was\nabout to sell him farther south. Once before he had made an\nunsuccessful attempt at freedom, but was captured and placed in irons,\nuntil they made deep sores around his ankles. As he appeared very\nsubmissive, the sorest ankle was relieved. Being so badly crippled, he\nwas thought safe. But supplying himself with asafetida, which he\noccasionally rubbed over the soles of his shoes, to elude the scent of\nbloodhounds, he again followed the north star, and finally reached our\nhome. His ankles were still unhealed. He had succeeded in breaking the\niron with a stone, during the first and second days of his hiding in\nthe woods. He was an honest Christian man of the Baptist persuasion.\n\n\nMARRIAGE OF TWO CHILDREN.\n\nOn June 6, 1846, my oldest son, Harvey S., was married to Huldah West,\nof Adrian, and my oldest daughter, Esther M., was at the same hour\nmarried to Almon Camburn, of Franklin, both of our own county. The\nmother's earnest prayer was, that these children might prove each\nother's burden-sharers, thereby doubling the joys, as well as dividing\nthe sorrows, of life. My daughter's husband was one of our students,\nand in some of her studies a classmate.\n\nWe were fortunate in again securing brother Patchin to finish the\nacademic year in our institution. Though the cloud looked dark that\noverhung our institution, by the sudden deaths of my husband, and\nsister Emily Galpin, which caused her bereaved husband to leave as soon\nas his place could be filled by a successor, we had the consciousness\nthat our school was taking a deep hold on the minds of the community at\nlarge, as well as exercising a marked influence upon the young people\nwho were enjoying its privileges. We found an increasing interest in\nabolition principles throughout our community. In this we praised God\nand took courage.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nANTI-SLAVERY EXPERIENCES.\n\n\nThis chapter introduces the reader to representatives of a large\nproportion of slave-owners of the Southern States, who were perverted\nby a system well-named \"the sum of all villainies.\"\n\nWillis Hamilton, an emancipated slave, the hero of this narrative, who\nfled to Canada with his slave wife, Elsie, to seek for her the\nprotection of the British lion from the merciless talons of the\nfreedom-shrieking American eagle, was emancipated three years previous\nto the date of this chapter, together with nineteen others (the reputed\ngoods and chattels of John Bayliss, a Baptist deacon, near\nJonesborough, Tennessee). Slaveholder though he was, John Bayliss\nevidently thought his black people had souls as well as those of white\nskins, for he allowed his house servants to remain in the dining-room\nduring evening family worship, thus giving them instruction which, as\nthe sequel will show, made the slave the teacher of the master; for one\nmorning, as \"Aunt Lucy,\" an old and privileged servant, was passing\nthrough his room, she said:\n\n\"Massa John, I's bin thinkin' a heap o' dat ar what you read in the\nBible t' other night.\"\n\n\"Ah, what's that, Aunt Lucy?\" said the deacon.\n\n\"It's to do oder folks as you'd want 'em to do to you, or somehow dat\nfashion. I tell you, Massa John, 't would be mighty hard for you white\nfolks to work great many years and get noffin'. Den, if you dies,\nwhar'd we go to? I specks we'd go down de riber, like Jones's poor\npeople did las' week.\"\n\n\"Well, well, Aunt Lucy, that was too bad; but Jones was in debt, and I\nsuppose they had to be sold.\"\n\n\"O yes, I s'pose so; but dat you read in de Bible sort o' sticks to\nme--I can't help it,\" said this faithful old mother in Israel, as she\nwent out to her work.\n\nIn a moment or two Mrs. Bayliss entered the room, and the deacon said:\n\n\"Wife, what kind of a text do you think Aunt Lucy has just given me?\"\n\n\"Text?\"\n\n\"Yes, text.\"\n\n\"What's got into her head now?\"\n\n\"She says she's been thinking about what I read in prayer-time the\nother evening, referring to the golden rule, and that it sort o' sticks\nto her. She spoke, of the excitement over Jones's black people who were\nsent down the river the other day; and I tell you, the way she applied\nher text, it 'sort o' sticks' to me.\"\n\n\"O hush!\" indignantly exclaimed Mrs. Bayliss. \"Aunt Lucy's mighty\nreligious, and has so many notions of her own she's not worth minding,\nany how.\"\n\n\"But she asked me what would become of my black people if I should die,\nand if I thought they would ever be torn apart as Jones's were. I tell\nyou, wife, I have witnessed such scenes too often to feel right in\nrisking a contingency of that kind,\" said the deacon, gravely.\n\n\"Don't be a fool, now, John Baybss,\" angrily exclaimed his wife, \"about\nAunt Lucy's fuss over Jones's niggers.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said the deacon, \"I don't wonder at her feeling grieved; they\nbelonged to her Church, and many of them were her relatives.\"\n\nHere, for the time being, the conversation ended; but the soul of John\nBayliss, awakened by the simple, straight-forward speech of his\nbond-woman, refused to be quieted, and he made this the subject of\nearnest prayer until the path of duty became so clear before him that\nhe could not do otherwise than manumit his twenty slaves, although\nbitterly opposed by his wife (who refused to free the three held in her\nown right).\n\nElsie, the wife of Willis Hamilton, belonged to a neighboring planter.\nShe was sold to a drover for the Southern market, and was being torn\nfrom her husband and two little daughters. Willis, in his agony, went\nfrom house to house, imploring some one to buy her, so that she might\nremain near her family. Finally one Dr. John P. Chester, who was about\nopening a hotel, agreed to purchase Elsie for $800, if Willis would pay\n$300 in work in the house, and fare the same as the other servants in\nboard and clothing. With these conditions Willis gladly complied; but\nafter they had spent a few months in their new home Deacon Bayliss\nexamined their article of agreement and found it to be illegal. He told\nWillis that Dr. Chester could sell Elsie at any time, and he could\nestablish no claim to her, even had he paid the $300, which, at the\nwages he was receiving, would take him nearly nine years to earn, with\nthe interest, and advised him to leave Dr. Chester and work for wages,\nas he had done since his manumission. This advice was immediately acted\nupon, Willis being permitted to spend his nights with his wife. Every\nthing passed off pleasantly for a few weeks, until one of the\nhouse-servants told Elsie that she overheard Master John sell both her\nand Willis to a slave-trader, who would the following night convey them\nto the river with a drove ready for New Orleans. Frantic as the poor\nwoman was with terror and grief at this information, she managed to\nperform her duties as usual until supper-time; and when all were seated\nat the table she slipped out unobserved, ran through a corn-field into\nthe woods, sending word to Willis by a fellow-servant to meet her at a\ncertain log. The moment Willis received the message he hastened to her\nwith flying feet; and here the wretched husband and wife, but a few\ndays before so full of plans for a pleasant future, held their council\nin tears.\n\nWillis, in his sudden fright and excitement, could only exclaim: \"What\nshall we do? Where shall we go?\" Elsie, cooler and more composed,\nsuggested going to Deacon Bayliss for advice. This Willis quickly did,\nand soon returned, it having been arranged that he should bring Elsie\nthere and secrete her in the attic until the excitement of the hunt was\nover. After this they assumed the names of Bill and Jane, a brother and\nsister who answered to their own description of color and size on\nWillia's free papers--the whole list of the twenty slaves emancipated\nby Deacon Bayliss being recorded on each paper.\n\nAfter five weeks hiding at the southern terminus of the \"Underground\nRailroad,\" they took up their line of march for Canada. In a Quaker\nsettlement in Indiana they found friends to whom they revealed their\ntrue relationship, and here they spent a year with a Quaker family\nnamed Shugart. But the slight protection afforded by the laws of\nIndiana did not tend to give them a feeling of security, and so they\nstarted again for the promised land with their infant daughter Louisa.\nOn this journey they were assisted on their way, and made easy and\ncomfortable compared with their hasty flight from Tennessee, from\nwhence they walked with swollen and blistered feet, and every nerve\nstrung to its utmost tension from the fear of pursuit by their Southern\npersecutors.\n\nAs times were hard in Canada, Elsie consented to come to Michigan with\nher husband if he could find a Quaker neighborhood. In their search\nthey found our house, and my husband, Charles Haviland, Jr., after\nlearning their condition, leased Willis twenty acres of ground, mostly\nopenings, for ten years, for the improvements he would make thereon.\nHere they lived for three years, when one day Elsie saw a strange man\npeering through the fence.\n\nHer first thought was \"a Southerner,\" and snatching her two Little ones\nshe ran for our house, only a few rods distant. The man pursued her,\nand she called for help to a neighbor in sight, at which the skulking\nsneak took himself off to the woods. This incident so thoroughly\naroused their fears that they took another farm, a few miles distant,\nfor three years; then a farm near Ypsilanti for a few years; from\nwhence they removed to Monroe, where they induced a friend to write to\nWillis's old friend and master, Deacon Bayliss, making inquiries after\ntheir two daughters, who were left behind in slavery. They received a\nprompt reply, purporting to come from Bayliss, informing them that\ntheir daughters were still living where they left them. He would see\nthem, he said, by the time he received their next letter, which he\nhoped would be soon, that he might be the happy bearer of glad news to\nthe children from their father and mother. He professed great joy at\nhearing from them, wished them to write all the particulars about\nthemselves, but cautioned them to write to no one but him, and all\nwould be safe. He requested them to inform him in what town they were\nliving, as he noticed their letter was dated in one town, mailed in\nanother, and he was directed to address them in a third. Their friend,\nhowever, strictly cautioned them not to reveal their definite\nwhereabouts, but to answer all other queries. Willis wrote that as his\nfarm lease had expired there, he would have to seek another farm, and\ndid not know where he would be, but to address a letter as before and\nit would be forwarded to him.\n\nTheir next move was to return to their first Michigan home on my\npremises, a few months after the death of my husband, taking up their\nabode in the little log-house built for them a few years before, and\nworking my land on shares. Another letter was soon received from their\nfriend Deacon Bayliss, as they supposed, and they urged me to reply;\nbut I firmly refused to write to any one in the land of the\nslaveholder, lest the message should fall into the hands of enemies,\nand advised them to leave their daughters in the hands of the Lord, who\nwould yet provide a way of deliverance for them as he had for their\nparents. In their great anxiety, however, to hear from their children,\nfrom whom they had been separated so many years, their plea was strong\nand persistent: but I remained immovable to all their entreaties, and\ntold them of a slave family, who, after living twenty years in Indiana,\nhad but recently been captured and returned to hopeless bondage. Upon\nthis they yielded to me for the time being, but in a few weeks came\nagain with pleadings made eloquent by suffering. As they had felt the\nvice-like grip of the peculiar system on their own hearts and lives,\nthey realized too keenly the fate that might any time overtake their\ndaughters. But I still resisted all their entreaties, and in a few days\nafter they applied to J. F. Dolbeare, one of the trustees of Raisin\nInstitute, who, thinking there was no danger, wrote all they desired,\ntelling the supposed Deacon Bayliss all their past life in the free\nStates and all their plans for the future. This they kept from me for a\ntime, but Elsie's heart refused to be quieted, and she finally told me\nabout it, first telling her husband she believed it their duty \"For,\"\nshe says, \"I have thought more about it since Aunt Laura told me she\ndreamed of three poisonous green vipers which she poked so near the\nfire that their sacks were burned to a crisp and the poison all ran\nout, so that she thought them powerless for harm, but they still kept\ntheir threatening attitude; and who knows but these vipers may be\nslaveholders?\" Willis said he had felt like telling me all the while,\nand both came to me with their story.\n\nI much regretted this unwise step, but forbore all criticism, and told\nthem we would hope for the best. A few days after a stranger appeared\nat our gate and inquired for a stray horse, which he said left him at\nTecumseh. None having been seen he made similar inquiries at Hamilton's.\n\nHe also asked for a glass of water, and while receiving it, says to\nElsie: \"Auntie, where does this road lead to, that crosses the river\neast?\" \"To Palmyra,\" she replied, and frightened at being addressed as\n\"Auntie,\" in the Southern style, hastened into her house.\n\nThe second night after this, at eleven o'clock, a carriage drove up to\na log-house on one of the cross roads, and three men appeared\nsimultaneously, two at the front and one at the rear window, but\nquickly disappeared. They had evidently mistaken their place, as it was\na white family up with a sick child. It was a dark night, and there was\na dug way ten feet deep perpendicular, near the fence to which their\nteam was hitched, which the valiant and mysterious trio did not\ndiscover, and when they re-entered their carriage and attempted to turn\naround they tumbled into it, horses, carriage, and all. This little\nincident so disarranged their plans that they were until daylight\nreturning to Adrian (only six miles distant), with their broken\ntrappings and bruised horses. They told the liveryman, Mr. Hurlburt,\nthat their horses took fright and ran off a steep bank, and begged him\nto fix the damages as low as possible, as they were from home, belated,\netc. Mr. Hurlburt assessed them thirty dollars; but he afterwards said,\nhad he known their business he would have doubled it.\n\nThree days after this fortunate mishap Willis Hamilton received a\nletter inclosing three dollars, purporting to be from John Bayliss, who\nhad come up into Ohio on business, and was on his way to visit them\nwhen he was suddenly taken very Ill, and was pronounced by the\nphysicians in a critical condition--in fact, they gave him but little\nencouragement for recovery, and he desired Willis to come and visit\nhim, and bring his wife and children, as he might want him for two\nweeks. He closed by saying:\n\n\"Whether I get better or die, I am resigned, and can say the Lord's\nwill be done. I shall have every train watched until you come. God\nbless you\n      \"Respectfully yours, JOHN BAYLISS\"\n\nOf course I was given this letter to read, and I suggested the utmost\ncaution in obeying this request, for, as the old rat in the fable said,\nthere might be \"concealed mischief in this heap of meal\" I called for\nthe other two letters, and found they were written by the same hand\nWillis says: \"Oh! I know the old boss too well, he's true as steel; he\nwon't have anything to do with trap business. Besides, I've got my free\npapers, and I'm not afraid to go, but I wont take my wife and children\"\nI proposed that Mr. Dolbeare or some neighbor go with him That pleased\nhim, but Mr. Dolbeare could not go. As my son Daniel and I were going\nto Adrian, I proposed to get either Mr. Backus or Mr. Peters, both\nstrong anti-slavery friends in the city, to accompany him to Toledo. As\nwe were about starting, Joseph Gibbons, a neighbor, came with the\nsuggestion that Willis remain at home, and James Martin, who was about\nhis color and size, go in his stead; as Gibbons agreed with me in\nbelieving there was a deep laid plot. To this all parties agreed, and\nWillis gave me the letter and the three dollars towards the fare of\nwhoever should go with James, who was an intelligent young colored man\nin our institution. Everything being in readiness we now started for\nAdrian, where we arrived just in time to jump on board the train, and\nconsequently had no leisure to seek out and make the proposed\narrangements with our above mentioned friends, but sent word back to\nWillis that we would return the following morning.\n\nOnce fairly settled on our journey the responsibility so suddenly\nthrust upon me made me cry out in my heart for wisdom beyond my own,\nand I prayed for a guiding hand to direct our actions in case we should\nfind ourselves in the camp of the enemy, face to face with traffickers\nin human souls and bodies, who considered no scheme too vile or\ndesperate for them to undertake, the success of which would in any way\nsubserve their own interests.\n\nWe arrived at Toledo at 7 P. M., and as we left the cars James was,\naddressed by a man with the question: \"Is your name Willis Hamilton?\"\n(and without waiting for a reply), \"Is your wife with you?\"\n\n\"No, sir,\" said James.\n\n\"Perhaps I am mistaken,\" said the questioner, who was the porter of the\nToledo hotel.\n\n\"Who do you wish to see?\" said James.\n\n\"Willis Hamilton is the man I am sent for, by his old friend John\nBayliss, who is at the Toledo hotel, so ill that he is not expected to\nlive.\"\n\n\"Where is this Mr. Bayliss from?\" said James.\n\n\"Tennessee, I believe.\"\n\n\"Very well, if there is such a man here I want to see him.\"\n\n\"Come with me, and I'll take you to his room,\" said the porter.\n\nWhile this conversation was passing between the porter and James we\nwere following in the rear, but apparently paying no attention to them.\nOur plan was for Daniel to keep James in sight if possible, and\nwhatever he heard of the sick man to report to me in the parlor. We\nentered the hotel nearly together. I was shown into the parlor and\nJames was taken up a flight of stairs from the bar-room. Daniel was\nfollowing, when the porter told him the bar-room for gentlemen was\nbelow. He said, \"I am taking this man to see a friend of his who is\nvery sick, and no strangers are allowed to enter the room.\" Of course,\nmy son could do nothing but return, so no further observations could be\ntaken by us until the reappearance of James. For two long hours we\nneither saw nor heard anything of him, and becoming very anxious and\nrestless I told Daniel to ask for James Martin, as he had business with\nhim. Twice he made this request, but the porter only said, \"Yes, yes,\nyou shall see him in a minute,\" and dodged from room to room to keep\nout of sight.\n\nGrowing desperate, I finally told my son to tell the porter \"if that\nyoung colored man is not forthcoming at once, a writ of _habeas corpus_\nwill be served on him in fifteen minutes, as we must see him\nimmediately. Also tell Mr. Woodward, the proprietor, that your mother\nis here with a message for Mr. John Bayliss, who we understand is very\nill at this house.\" Mr. Woodward instantly summoned the porter, and we\nheard him say in an excited undertone: \"There's trouble ahead unless\nthat young black fellow comes down immediately; tell them to send him\ndown at once.\" In a moment the porter, three gentlemen, and James made\ntheir appearance, evidently to the surprise of twenty half drunken\nIrishmen who had been chattering all the evening, but were now so still\nyou could have heard a pin drop, to see Hamilton (as the sequel shows\nthey supposed) brought down so publicly and without fetters. It\nafterwards transpired that Willis Hamilton, upon coming down stairs,\nwas to have been put into a close carriage, sent away, and his family\nthen sent for under the plea that he was detained with his sick friend,\nand this was the intelligent crowd who were to aid in the success of\nthe plan.\n\nI had seen a carriage stand fifteen or twenty minutes at the bar-room\ndoor and finally leave without a passenger, and Daniel saw the same\ncarriage at the rear door equally long, which also left there empty.\nUpon coming down James Martin evidently took in the situation at a\nglance, for, giving my son a pinch, he said: \"Mr. Haviland, let us go\ninto the dining-room and call for supper.\" This was to give the drunken\nrabble time to leave so that he could relate his adventures with the\nSoutherners after supper. But by this time the porter came to me to\ninquire if I wished to see Mr. Bayliss, the sick man. I replied in the\naffirmative, upon which he said: \"He is very low; no stranger has been\nallowed to enter his room for three days, but his doctor is here. Would\nyou like to see him?\" \"I would,\" I replied. A tall gentleman now\nentered the room and addressed me: \"Madam, are you the lady who wished\nto see me?\" \"I am, if you are the physician who has charge of John\nBayliss of Tennessee, who we learn is very ill, by a letter which\nWillis Hamilton received yesterday.\"\n\n\"I am Dr. Taylor of this city, and have the case of Mr. Bayliss in my\ncare. His son-in-law is here taking care of him, and they are all\ngreatly disappointed at not seeing Hamilton this evening, as Mr.\nBayliss has sent for him and his family, and they can not imagine why\nhe does not come.\"\n\n\"Well, I can tell you why. We feared a trap, as Willis's wife was\nformerly a slave.\"\n\n\"I don't see,\" said the doctor, \"how you could suspect any thing wrong\nin that letter, as I understand they have written them before, and you\nshould have compared the letters to see if they were written by the\nsame person.\"\n\n\"We did so, and found they were written by the same person. But there\nare other points to consider: 1st, John Bayliss stands somewhat in the\nrelation of a slaveholder, as in a former letter he spoke of three aged\nslaves living with him, and wished Hamilton and wife to stay with him\ntwo weeks if he lived, which was doubtful, and wished them to be sure\nand bring their children, though we all know that four little noisy\nchildren are not agreeable companions in a sick-room.\"\n\nHere my learned doctor gave his head a vigorous scratch, and said:\n\"Well, madam, Mr. Bayliss is probably childish from age, and his severe\nillness makes him more so. A nervous temperament like his, affected by\ndisease, often enfeebles the mind, as body and mind are in close\nrelationship philosophically. Now, he is just childish enough to want\nto see those children playing around his room, and he says he would\nmake them handsome presents; and as money seems to be plenty with him\nand apparently no object, I judge they would be well paid for coming.\"\n\nI did not appear to question this view of the case, but inquired how\nlong Deacon Bayliss had been ill.\n\n\"About seven days, madam,\" replied the doctor.\n\n\"What seems to be the nature of the disease?\"\n\n\"It was at first a violent attack of bilious fever, but for the last\nthree days it has assumed a fearful form of typhus.\"\n\nI told him that Hamilton and his wife were both very anxious about\ntheir old friend, and wished me to see him personally, and give him\ntheir reasons for not coming.\n\n\"I should be glad,\" said the doctor, \"to allow you to see him, were it\nnot for his extreme nervousness, but I dare not risk it. It seems hard\nto think the dying request of this poor old man can not be granted. He\nseems to consider this family almost next to his own.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" I said, \"it is also hard and humiliating to humane and patriotic\nAmericans that a system of human bondage exists in this country which\ncauses these horrible fears and suspicions to loom up like specters\nbefore the mental vision of this persecuted and down-trodden race.\"\n\n\"That is very true,\" said Dr. Taylor; \"slavery is the darkest spot on\nour national escutcheon. But in this case there is no cause for\nsuspicion; for I am sure there is no plot with regard to the Hamilton\nfamily, and I call God to witness that every word I tell you is truth.\nAs to the three slaves you spoke of, he told me during the first of his\nsickness that he emancipated all his slaves, twenty in number, but that\nhis wife had three in her right, which she refused to free, and these\nhave always remained in the family. He manumitted his slaves from\npurely conscientious scruples; and I believe that if there is a\nChristian that walks God's earth he is one, for he has manifested such\npatience and resignation during his severe illness that he has entirely\nwon my affections. Now, don't you think you can induce Hamilton to\nbring his family here? I do not believe he will live three days.\"\n\n\"I will be honest with you,\" I replied. \"Although you have talked like\na candid man, I do not believe I could transfer sufficient confidence\nto the family to induce them to come unless I should see him, as they\ncharged me over and again.\"\n\nAt this my tender-hearted Aesculapius sighed deeply, and said: \"I am\nsorry that they or their friends should entertain any distrust, as I\nfear he may not be conscious two days longer. A council of physicians\nwas called this afternoon, and three out of the four gave it as their\nopinion that he could not survive, at the longest, beyond three days;\nand I believe him liable to drop away within twenty-four hours,\nalthough it is barely possible he may live a week.\"\n\n\"Well,\" I replied, \"one cause of suspicion, both with my neighbors and\nmyself was that, although the letters from John Bayliss were all\nwritten by the same hand, the last one was equally well written as the\nothers, although he was represented as so very low, with little hope of\nrecovery.\"\n\nHere my ready-tongued doctor very thoughtfully placed his hand to his\nforehead, but in a moment replied: \"I will tell you how that was. His\nfever was off at the time, which enabled him to carry a steady hand.\"\n\n\"Well, of course,\" I replied, \"we do not know that any plan exists to\nremand these people back to slavery, but we only judged of the\npossibilities. And for my part I do not believe in regarding the wicked\nenactments of men which contravene the laws of eternal right given by\nGod, who made of one blood all nations who dwell upon the face of the\nearth, and of Christ, who left the realms of glory to bring blessings\nto mankind, and a part of whose mission was to unloose the heavy\nburdens and let the oppressed go free. And in view of the golden rule\ngiven by the great Lawgiver, I would not for my right hand become\ninstrumental in returning one escaped slave to bondage. I firmly,\nbelieve in our Declaration of Independence, that all men are created\nfree and equal, and that no human being has a right to make merchandise\nof others born in humbler stations, and place them on a level with\nhorses, cattle, and sheep, knocking them off the auction-block to the\nhighest bidder, sundering family ties, and outraging the purest and\ntenderest feelings of human nature.\"\n\n\"That is all right,\" said the doctor, \"and I understand your feelings.\nSlavery is the greatest curse upon our otherwise happy country. But in\nthis case there need be no fear of any conspiracy to injure your\ncolored friends; and I did hope, for the sake of Mr. Bayliss, they\nwould come and visit him, and gratify his dying request.\"\n\nHe then gave me some of the alarming symptoms of his patient, enlarged\non the sympathy he felt for him, and finally proposed to go up and\nconsult with his son-in law on the propriety of allowing me to see him\nin his present exceedingly nervous state. He said if he was not spoken\nto perhaps I might be allowed to look at him, as he was kept under the\ninfluence of opiates, and was to-night in a heavy stupor, and not\ndisposed to talk to any one.\n\n\"Would such an arrangement be any satisfaction to you?\"\n\nI replied that, while it was immaterial to me, it would probably\nsatisfy the Hamilton family; and, after a few minutes' consultation in\nthe sick-room, he returned with the conclusion that I might enter the\nroom, but that no loud word must be spoken, nor the sound of a footfall\npermitted.\n\n\"But you can not see his face, as it is covered with cloths wet in\nvinegar to draw the fever out, and he is now in a doze, and I do not\nwish to disturb him.\"\n\nHe then described the terrible paroxysms, bordering on spasms, suffered\nby his patient, in which it took four men to hold him, and was\neulogizing his wonderful fortitude and Christian patience, when the\nson-in-law suddenly came rushing into the room in his shirt-sleeves and\nstocking-feet, and exclaimed:\n\n\"Doctor, doctor, do come quick; father's got another spasm, and I don't\nknow what to do.\"\n\n\"Yes, yes,\" said the doctor, \"I'll come; don't leave your father a\nmoment;\" and jumped up, apparently in great excitement. But at the door\nhe halted to tell me that these spasms indicated mortification, when\nthe son-in-law again opened the door with a bang and the exclamation:\n\n\"Doctor, why don't you hurry? Father is vomiting again, and I'm afraid\nhe is dying.\"\n\nAt this they both rushed frantically up-stairs. In about fifteen\nminutes the doctor returned, saying he had given his patient a double\ndose of an opiate, and would let him rest awhile. He then launched out\ninto a description of his treatment of Mr. Bayliss; how he had\nblistered him, and performed a surgical operation on him which had\ngiven him great pain; said he was attending him to the neglect of his\nother patients, and after exhausting a large amount of eloquence on the\nsubject returned to the sick chamber. In a few moments he came back\nwith the information that I could now be admitted, and conducted me to\nthe room.\n\nAs soon as we stepped within the door the doctor halted, but I stepped\nto the center of the room, as if I had forgotten that I was only just\nto enter, and gazed at the bed and then at the lounge opposite. The\ndoctor stepped to my side and said, \"That is he on the bed yonder.\" I\nstood a moment and took a mental inventory of the sick man, who\nappeared full six feet tall and very slender, not at all answering to\nthe description of the short, heavily built John Bayliss, of two\nhundred pounds avoirdupois. Of course, a fit of sickness might reduce a\nman's flesh, but it did not appear to me as especially likely to\nincrease his height. As his face was covered with wet cloths I could\nnot see the round physiognomy of John Bayliss, but passing my hand over\nthe face I found it long and thin featured. I whispered to the doctor\nthat I would like to notice his pulse. He said I could do so on the\njugular vein. I did so, and found the skin of this fever-stricken man\nto be the natural temperature, but I whispered to the doctor that I was\nnot so accustomed to noticing the pulse in that locality as at the\nwrist. After some resistance by the sick man, who finally yielded with\na long undertone groan, I found his wrist, and the full, strong,\nregular pulse of a well man. There was now no doubt in my mind that I\nwas alone at this midnight hour, far from home, in a room with three\nslaveholders.\n\nAs I stepped from the bed the doctor asked me if I was satisfied. The\nthought flashed through my mind that I had always contended that\ndeception was lying, and that no circumstances could justify it But\nother thoughts also came, and I replied that I was satisfied.\n\nAt this the son-in-law, who had apparently been sleeping on the lounge,\nroused himself and commenced rubbing his eyes, and looking at the\ndoctor, said, \"Oh, doctor, do you think father is any better?\"\n\n\"I can not conscientiously give you any hope,\" replied the doctor.\n\n\"Oh, dear!\" he exclaimed, \"what shall I do? I am almost sick myself,\ntaking care of him day and night. If I had only known that they were\nnear Tecumseh, where I lost my horse, I would have seen them; but I\nhoped to have found him better when I returned, instead of which he was\nmuch worse.\"\n\nAt this I stepped towards him, and said: \"If you are the gentleman who\nwas inquiring for a horse in our neighborhood a few days ago, you\ncalled at Hamilton's house and asked for a drink of water.\"\n\n\"What, that place where a black woman brought me a glass of water?\"\n\n\"Yes; that was Hamilton's wife.\"\n\n\"Is it possible! that little log house where there was a pile of\npumpkins in the yard?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" I said.\n\n\"Oh! if I had only known it,\" he exclaimed, \"we would have had them\nhere to help us. What trouble we have had. I reckon father will die,\nand I shall have to go home alone. God knows we have had a bad trip of\nit.\"\n\nThe careful doctor now began to fear we would disturb the patient, and\nwe were about leaving the room when he suddenly exclaimed, \"I want you\nto see what black bilious matter Mr. Bayliss vomited a while ago;\" and,\nstepping back, he brought me a white bowl two-thirds full of what might\nhave been the contents of a coffee-pot, with a bottle of black ink\nthrown in, and a few spittles floating on top. This, he told me,\nindicated mortification. We now passed into the parlor, where we could\ntalk without disturbing the patient. \"Now, madam, as you are fully\nsatisfied with regard to Mr. Bayliss's illness, can't you do something\nto get the Hamiltons here?\"\n\n\"I am willing,\" I replied, \"to do all in my power, but see no better\nway than to inform them of the state of affairs upon my return, and the\ntrain will leave for Adrian at eight o'clock to-morrow morning.\" The\ndoctor went up stairs to see what word they wished to send, and soon\nreturned with the request that I should write to Hamilton to come\nimmediately, and the porter would go with the letter for ten dollars,\nand his father would send another ten dollars to Willis. I still\ninsisted that my original plan was the best, as the road through the\ncottonwood swamp was almost impassable.\n\nThe son-in-law now entered, and after walking across the floor a few\ntimes, with sighs and groans and bemoaning his dire calamities, said\nhis father wished the letter written.\n\nHe returned to his father and the doctor went for writing material.\nThey closed the door behind them for a consultation, I supposed.\n\nThe reader will remember that during all this time I knew nothing of\nthe experience of James Martin with this afflicted trio, but had been\ncompelled to grope my way blindly. As the doctor and son-in-law went\nout my son came in. He had overheard something about the writing, and\nsaid, excitedly: \"Don't write, mother; there is no sick man here. That\ntall man is Elsie's master, and they threatened James's life when they\nhad him up stairs.\"\n\n\"Daniel, I know there is no sick man here,\" I said; \"but they do not\nthink I dream of any plot. It is now midnight, and it is not wise to\nlet them know that we distrust them. Sit down and let us talk\nnaturally.\"\n\nThe doctor now returned with writing material, and I sat down to write\nwhile he conversed with my son on the weather and kindred topics. Now\nmy intention in writing to Hamilton was to serve these slaveholders by\ndefeating them. I knew, too, that disguising my hand-writing was not\nenough to reveal to the Hamilton's that the letter was a sham, and\nwhatever I wrote would be subjected to the perusal of my employers\nbefore it was sent. At this hour, too, a messenger could not probably\nbe secured, even for twenty dollars. But as I seated myself at the\ntable and took my pen in the manner in which I could appear to serve\nthe slaveholders, but in reality defeat them, it came to me like a\nflash, and I cheerfully wrote all they dictated, not omitting the fact\n(?) that a council of physicians had decided that John Bayliss could\nnot live to exceed three days; and after handing it to the doctor and\nson-in-law to read, I requested permission to add a few lines on my own\nresponsibility, which was readily granted, as I explained to them that\nElsie would not be prepared with regard to clothing, either for herself\nor children, to be away so long, and I could easily loan her sufficient\ngarments.\n\nThis, of course, was as happy a thought for them as for myself, and was\nso received. \"Indeed, madam,\" said the son-in-law, \"that will be very\nkind in you. They can get ready so much quicker.\" So I added to my\nletter to Willis as follows: \"Tell Elsie to take for herself the black\nalpaca dress in the south bed-room, and the two pink gingham aprons and\nstriped flannel dresses in the bureau in the west room for the little\ngirls. To come to Adrian, take the double team and farm wagon.\" I\nsigned my name and handed the letter to the delighted stranger. He then\ngave my son a lighted sperm candle to light us over to the Indiana\nHouse, at that time the best hotel in Toledo, and kept by Salter\nCleveland and wife, anti-slavery friends of ours. This light, however,\nserved them to follow us, as well as guide us to our haven of safety.\n\nAfter settling ourselves with our friends to tell our adventures I had\na chance to hear James Martin's story. After the failure of my son to\nfollow James and the porter up stairs, James was of course entirely in\nthe hands of the enemy. At the head of the stairs they were met by an\nelderly gentleman with a lamp, who offered to conduct James to the sick\nroom, and he was told to enter the first right hand door. On opening\nthe door he found no one inside. \"Oh,\" said his guide, \"they have moved\nhim to the next room, as was suggested by the council of physicians\nthis afternoon; we will find him there; and opening the door the\nstranger assumed an attitude of command and told him to go in.\" James,\nhowever, replied: \"I shall not go in, sir; you can see as well as I\nthat the room is empty.\" The stranger gave a surprised look at the\ninterior of the room and said: \"Oh, I guess they moved him to the\nfarther room, as some one suggested, after all. As there is no other\nroom he can be in, you will certainly find him there.\"\n\nBy this time, of course, James began thoroughly to distrust his\nconductor, and hesitated about going farther; but desiring to make all\nthe discoveries possible, and thinking if violence was attempted he\ncould run down stairs to us, he passed on to the third door, and\nthrowing it wide open found this room also empty.\n\nHe was about turning back when two other men suddenly appeared through\na door at the left, and the three surrounded him, one leveling a\nrevolver at his head, another at his breast, and the third pointing a\ndirk at his side, all indulging in an indiscriminate volley of oaths\nand threats. Said his grey-haired guide (who afterwards proved to be\nJohn P. Chester, Elsie's master, the same who had enacted to me the\nrole of the sympathetic physician), \"If you stir or speak one word\nwe'll kill you. Go into that room, or you're a dead mail.\" In this\nposition they entered the room and locked the door. \"Now, Hamilton,\nwe've got you, damn you.\"\n\n\"My name is not Hamilton, but James Martin,\" was James' reply.\n\n\"Damn you,\" rejoined Chester, \"I know you; you were once a slave in\nTennessee.\"\n\n\"No, sir, I never was a slave, nor was I ever in a slave state. I was\nborn and brought up in the State of New York.\"\n\n\"Then you're a d----d spy, and I've a great mind to shoot you this\nminute,\" said Chester.\n\n\"If you call me a spy because I came here to see Mr. John Bayliss for\nMr. Hamilton, then you can do so, for this is why I am here, and I came\nhere with no intention of harm to any one, I am entirely unarmed, I\nhave not so much as a penknife with which to defend myself, but I tell\nyou, gentlemen, I have friends here in this house.\"\n\nAt this they dropped their weapons as by an electric shock, and Chester\nexclaimed, \"You shan't be hurt! you shan't be hurt!\" Then turning to\nhis son: \"Tom, put up your pistol.\"\n\n\"But,\" says Tom, \"I propose to search him and see whether he's clear of\narms.\"\n\n\"No! you shan't do it. I reckon it's as he says.\"\n\nJames, seeing that they were thoroughly intimidated, now felt at his\nease. The Southerners, of course, did not know but a posse of armed men\nawaited their actions instead of one little woman and a lad of\nseventeen. Chester now addressed James in a subdued tone and manner,\nasking him to sit down, \"and I'll tell you all about it Mr. John\nBayliss is here and he is very sick; he is not expected to live. But I\nam Elsie's master; my name is John P. Chester, and I bought her out of\npure benevolence to save her from going down the river with a drove.\nWillis was going from house to house begging for some one to buy his\nwife, crying and taking on like he was nearly crazy, and I felt sorry\nfor him, and told him if he would help me buy her by paying three\nhundred dollars in work for me, I could do it, and he entered into a\nwritten agreement with me that I was to feed and clothe him the same as\nmy other servants, and give him a good price for his work; but before\nhe had been with me a year he took my property and ran away with it,\nand now I want to get it back.\"\n\n\"Why don't you go and get it then?\" said James.\n\n\"Oh, there's such a set of d----d abolitionists there I can't do it,\"\nsaid Chester. \"Hamilton wrote to me that he had put in ten acres of\nwheat this fall on shares on a widow lady's farm, and that he had a\nyoke of oxen, two cows, pigs and chickens.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said James, \"that is all true.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Chester, \"you can have all he has there, besides any\namount of money you please to name, if you will assist me in getting\nhim and his family here. Will you do it?\"\n\nJames replied, very carelessly, \"Well, I don't know but I will for\nenough.\"\n\n\"You see,\" said Chester, \"if I can get them here, I can get help from\none place to another in Ohio, and when I strike Kentucky I'd be all\nright.\" In laying plans and making arrangements they consumed two\nhours' time, and, as the reader will remember, I became nervous and\nsent for James, after which I had my experience with the doctor and the\nsick man.\n\nAfter finding ourselves quietly seated with our friends in their\nprivate parlor, before we had fairly finished relating our adventures,\nthe night watch came in with the report that three men were pacing\naround the house at about equal distances, whom he suspected to be\nburglars. Orders were given to keep the outside rooms lighted, and if\nany attempt was made to enter to ring the alarm bell and assistance\nwould be forthcoming. Morning light, however, revealed to the watchmen\nthat their suspected burglars were the three Southerners, who had\nstopped at the Indiana House a few days, but not finding co-operation\nprobable in their slave-hunting business, had changed their quarters to\nthe Toledo Hotel. I recognized my doctor and the son-in-law; and the\nother, a tall, slender young man, of twenty-two, was my sick and\nsuffering deacon, who an hour previous had been so near death's door.\nTheir object, of course, in guarding the house, was to see that we sent\nno messenger to defeat the letter I bad so kindly written for them. But\non this matter I gave myself no concern, as Elsie was as well\nacquainted with my wardrobe as I was, and would know at once that it\ncontained no such articles as I mentioned; also, that the house had no\nsouth bedroom, and no bureau in the west room, neither was there a\ndouble team nor a farm wagon on the place. Consequently I had no fears\nthat the letter was not faithfully fulfilling its mission.\n\nA few minutes before we left the hotel for the 8 o'clock train to\nreturn home a colored man came to James, evidently quite excited, and\nsaid: \"We have just heard there is a colored man here having trouble\nwith slave-holders; if this is true, there are enough of us here to do\nwhatever is necessary.\" James did not reply, but looked inquiringly at\nme. I replied, \"There is trouble,\" and taking him into a back room,\ngave him a brief sketch of James's experience. I told him I did not\nthink it probable that violence would be offered in daylight, but as\nMr. Cleveland and son were both ill, we would like to know who our\nfriends were at the depot. He assured me we should have all the aid we\nneeded. \"While at the depot,\" said he, \"we shall watch both you and the\nslave-holders, and whatever you desire us to do, madam, say the word,\nand it shall be done.\" I thanked him, but did not think there would be\nany difficulty.\n\nThe three Southerners were at the depot as soon as we were. In the\nticket office James gave up going, as he thought they intended going\nwith us. But this I did not care for, and told James he must go now, as\nthere was no other train until night, and there was no telling what\nthey might do under cover of darkness. When we got to the cars the\ndoctor and son-in-law jumped aboard, but the sick man was determined to\ntake his seat with me, and followed my son and myself from coach to\ncoach, and whenever we showed any signs of seating ourselves prepared\nto seat himself opposite. I looked at his snakish eyes, and concluded\nto leave my sick deacon to see James, who still lingered in the ticket\noffice.\n\nI again urged him to go with me, as I should take another coach when I\nreturned and get rid of the Southerners. When I returned I ran past the\ncoach I had left, and Daniel beckoned to me, saying, \"Here, mother,\nthis is the car we took.\" \"Yes,\" I said, \"but I see a lady ahead that I\nwish, to sit with.\" At this the sick man jumped up and exclaimed, \"I'll\nbe d----d if I don't take that seat then.\" But Daniel pressed his way\npast him, and noticed his heavily-laden overcoat pocket. By the time my\nson reached me there was no room near us for the sick deacon, so he\nreturned to his first seat.\n\nDuring all this time about a dozen men, black and white, were watching\nus closely. I beckoned the one who called on us at the hotel to come to\nour apartments, and told him to tell James to come immediately to my\ndoor. He came, and I opened the door and told him to enter, as the\ntrain was about moving. When he was inside he says: \"I am afraid we\nwill have trouble.\" Just then the conductor passed, and I said to him:\n\"I suppose we will be perfectly safe here, should we have trouble on\nour way to Adrian.\" \"Most certainly,\" he said (raising his voice to the\nhighest pitch). \"I vouch for the perfect safety and protection of every\nindividual on board this train.\"\n\nNear Sylvania, a small town ten miles from Toledo, the train halted to\nsand the track, and our chivalrous friends got off. Chester and his son\nThomas, the sick deacon, stationed themselves about three feet from us;\nand Chester, pointing to James, said in a low, grim voice: \"We'll see\nyou alone some time;\" and, turning to my son, \"You, too, young man.\"\nThen directing his volley of wrath to me, he roared out: \"But that lady\nthere--you nigger stealer--you that's got my property and the avails of\nit--I'll show you, you nigger thief;\" and drawing a revolver from his\npocket, his son doing the same, they pointed them towards my face,\nChester again bawling out, \"You see these tools, do you? We have more\nof 'em here\" (holding up a traveling bag), \"and we know haw to use\nthem. We shall stay about here three weeks, and we will have that\nproperty you have in your possession yet, you d----d nigger stealer. We\nunderstand ourselves. We know what we are about.\"\n\n\"Man, I fear neither your weapons nor your threats; they are powerless.\nYou are not at home--you are not in Tennessee. And as for your\nproperty, I have none of it about me or on my premises. We also know\nwhat we are about; we also understand, not only ourselves, but you.\"\n\nPale and trembling with rage they still shook their pistols in my face,\nand Chester, in a choked voice, exclaimed: \"I'll--I'll--I won't say\nmuch more to you--you're a woman--but that young man of yours; I'll\ngive five hundred dollars if he'll go to Kentucky with me.\"\n\nJust then the conductor appeared and cried out: \"What are you doing\nhere, you villainous scoundrels? We'll have you arrested in five\nminutes.\" At this they fled precipitately to the woods, and the last we\nsaw of these tall and valiant representatives of the land of chivalry\nwere their heels feat receding in the thicket.\n\nOf course, this brave exhibition of rhetoric and valor called out\ninnumerable questions from the passengers; and from there on to Adrian,\nthough already terribly fatigued, we had to be continually framing\nreplies and making explanations.\n\nAmong the people of Sylvania the news spread like wildfire, and it was\nreported that over forty men were at the depot with hand-spikes and\niron bars, ready to tear up the track in case the Hamilton family had\nbeen found on the train bound for Toledo.\n\nWhen we arrived at Adrian my oldest son, Harvey, and Willis were there\nto meet us; and when we told Willis that Elsie's old master and his son\nhad but an hour previously pointed pistols at our heads and threatened\nour lives, he could hardly speak from astonishment. Harvey said my\nletter arrived before sunrise, but that no one believed I had any thing\nto do with it. However, as the porter swore he saw me write it,\nProfessor Patchin and J. F. Dolbeare were sent for; but they also\ndistrusted its validity and the truthfulness of the bearer.\n\nElsie had no faith in it at all. \"If,\" said she, \"the old man is so\nvery sick, as he hasn't seen us for years, they could bring him any\nblack man and woman, and call them Willis and Elsie, and he'd never\nknow the difference; and as for that letter, Mrs. Haviland never saw\nit. I believe the slave-holders wrote it themselves. They thought, as\nshe was a widow, she'd have a black dress, and you know she hasn't got\none in the house. And where's the pink aprons and green striped\ndresses? And there's no south bed-room in this house. It's all humbug;\nand I sha'n't stir a step until I see Mrs. Haviland.\"\n\nSaid another: \"These things look queer. There's no bureau in the west\nroom.\"\n\nThe porter, seeing he could not get the family, offered Willis ten\ndollars if he would go to Palmyra with him, but he refused. He then\noffered it to my son Harvey if he would take Wills to Palmyra.\n\n\"No, sir; I shall take him nowhere but to Adrian, to meet mother,\" was\nHarvey's reply.\n\nAfter their arrival in Adrian the porter again offered the ten dollars,\nand Lawyer Perkins and others advised Harvey to take it and give it to\nWillis, as they would protect him from all harm. But when I came I told\nhim not to touch it; and the porter, drawing near, heard my explanation\nof the letter, and the threatening remarks of the people, who declared\nthat if slave-holders should attempt to take the Hamilton family or any\nother escaped slave from our city or county they would see trouble. He\nsoon gave us the benefit of his absence, and we went home with thankful\nhearts that public sentiment had made a law too strong to allow\navaricious and unprincipled men to cast our persecuted neighbors back\ninto the seething cauldron of American slavery.\n\nAll that day our house was thronged with visitors, eager to hear the\nstory which was agitating the whole community, but about midnight I\ntold my friends that rest was a necessity, for never in my life was I\nso thoroughly exhausted from talking; but, as the next day wan-the\nSabbath, I would in the evening meet all who chose to come in the\nValley School-house (at that day the largest in the county) and tell\nthem the whole story, and save repeating it so many times.\n\nWhen the evening came we met a larger crowd than could find\nstanding-room in the school-house, and report said there was a spy for\nthe slave-holders under a window outside.\n\nI related the whole story, omitting nothing, and was followed by Elijah\nBrownell, one of our ablest anti-slavery lecturers, with a few spirited\nremarks. He suggested that a collection should be taken up to defray\nour expenses to Toledo and return, and fourteen dollars was soon placed\nin my hands.\n\nFrom a friend of our letter-carrier, the porter of the Toledo Hotel, we\nlearned that the plans of the slave-holders accorded with those given\nJames Martin in the sick-room. After getting the Hamilton family in\ntheir clutches they intended to gag and bind--them, and, traveling\nnights, convey them from one point to another until they reached\nKentucky. This was precisely on the plan of our underground railroad,\nbut happily for the cause of freedom, in this case at least, not as\nsuccessful.\n\nThe citizens of Adrian appointed a meeting at the court-house, and sent\nfor me to again tell the story of the slaveholder who had so deeply\nlaid his plans to capture, not only his fugitive slave Elsie and her\nfour children, but also her husband, who was a free man. Other meetings\nwere called to take measures for securing the safety of the hunted\nfamily from the iron grasp of the oppressor, whose arm is ever strong\nand powerful in the cause of evil; and so great was public excitement\nthat the chivalrous sons of the South found our Northern climate too\nwarm for their constitutions, and betook themselves to the milder\nclimate of Tennessee with as great speed as their hunted slave, with\nher husband, hastened away from there fifteen years before.\n\nIt may be asked how the Chesters discovered that Hamilton and his wife\nwere in Michigan. We learned afterward that John P. Chester was the\npostmaster at Jonesborough, and receiving a letter at his office\ndirected to John Bayliss, he suspected it to be from friends of his\nformer slaves, and opened it. His suspicions being confirmed, he\ndetained the letter, and both corresponded and came North in the\nassumed character of Bayliss. His schemes miscarried, as we have above\nnarrated, and Bayliss probably never knew of the desperate game played\nin his name.\n\nAbout two weeks after the departure of this noble trio I received a\nthreatening letter from John P. Chester, to which I replied; and this\nwas followed by a correspondence with his son, Thomas K. Chester (the\nsick deacon). From these letters we shall give a few extracts.\n\nIn a letter received under the date of December 3; 1846, John P.\nChester writes: \"I presume you do not want something for nothing; and\ninasmuch as you have my property in your possession, and are so great a\nphilanthropist, you Hill feel bound to remunerate me for that\nproperty.... If there is any law of the land to compel you to pay for\nthem I intend to have it.\"\n\nIn my reply, December 20, 1846, I wrote:\n\n\"First, convince me that you have property in my possession, and you\nshall have the utmost farthing. But if Willis Hamilton and family are\nproperty in my possession, then are Rev. John Patchin and wife,\nprincipals of Raisin Institute, and other neighbors, property in my\npossession, as I have dealing with each family, precisely in the same\nmanner that I have with Willis Hamilton and family, and I do as truly\nrecognize property in my other neighbors as in the Hamilton family.\nProve my position fallacious, and not predicated on principles of\neternal right, and they may be blown to the four winds of heaven. If\ncarnal weapons can be brought to bear upon the spiritual you shall have\nthe liberty to do it with the six-shooters you flourished toward my\nface in Sylvania, Ohio....\n\n\"As for my being compelled to pay you for this alleged property, to\nthis I have but little to say, as it is the least of all my troubles in\nthis lower world. I will say, However, I stand ready to meet whatever\nyou may think proper to do in the case. Should you think best to make\nus another call, I could not vouch for your safety. The circumstances\nconnected with this case have been such that great excitement has\nprevailed. A. number of my neighbors have kept arms since our return\nfrom Toledo. I can say with the Psalmist, 'I am for peace, but they are\nfor war.'\n\n\"At a public meeting called the next evening after our return from the\nToledo trip, fourteen dollars was placed in my hands as a remuneration\nfor the assistance I rendered in examining your very sick patient. I\nfound the disease truly alarming, far beyond the reach of human aid,\nmuch deeper than bilious fever, although it might have assumed a\ntyphoid grade. The blister that you were immediately to apply on the\nback of the patient could not extract that dark, deep plague-spot of\nslavery, too apparent to be misunderstood.\"\n\nI received a long list of epithets in a letter, bearing date,\nJonesboro, Tennessee, February 7, 1847, from Thomas K. Chester, the\nsick deacon:\n\n\"I have thought it my duty to answer your pack of balderdash, ... that\nyou presumed to reply to my father, as I was with him on his tour to\nMichigan, and a participant in all his transactions, even to the acting\nthe sick man's part in Toledo ..., True it is, by your cunning\nvillainies you have deprived us of our just rights, of our own\nproperty.... Thanks be to an all wise and provident God that, my father\nhas more of that sable kind of busy fellows, greasy, slick, and fat;\nand they are not cheated to death out of their hard earnings by\nvillainous and infernal abolitionists, whose philanthropy is interest,\nand whose only desire is to swindle the slave-holder out of his own\nproperty, and convert its labor to their own infernal aggrandizement.\n\n\"It is exceedingly unpleasant for me to indulge in abuse, particularly\nto a _woman_, and I would not now do it, did I not feel a perfect\nconsciousness of right and duty.... Who do you think would parley with\na thief, a robber of man's just rights, recognized by the glorious\nConstitution of our Union! Such a condescension would damn an honest\nman, would put modesty to the blush. What! to engage in a contest with\nyou? a rogue, a damnable thief, a negro thief, an outbreaker, a\ncriminal in the sight of all honest men; ... the mother, too, of a\npusillanimous son, who permitted me to curse and damn you in Sylvania!\nI would rather be caught with another man's sheep on my back than to\nengage in such a subject, and with such an individual as old Laura\nHaviland, a damned nigger-stealer....\n\n\"You can tell Elsie that since our return my father bought her eldest\ndaughter; that she is now his property, and the mother of a likely boy,\nthat I call Daniel Haviland after your pretty son. She has plenty to\neat, and has shoes in the Winter, an article Willis's children had not\nwhen I was there, although it was cold enough to freeze the horns off\nthe cows.... What do you think your portion will be at the great day of\njudgment? I think it will be the inner temple of hell.\"\n\nIn my reply, dated Raisin, March 16, 1847, I informed the sick deacon\nthat my letter to his father \"had served as a moral emetic, by the mass\nof black, bilious, and putrid matter it bad sent forth. You must have\nbeen exercised with as great distress, as extreme pain, that was\nproducing paroxysms and vomiting, that you had in your sick-room in the\nToledo hotel, when your physician was so hastily called to your relief\nby your son-in-law, as the matter that lies before me in letter form is\nas 'black', and much more 'bilious,' and nearer 'mortification' than\nthat I saw there.\"\n\n\"We thank you for the name's sake. May he possess the wisdom of a\nDaniel of old, although his lot be cast in the lions' den; and, like\nMoses, may he become instrumental in leading his people away from a\nworse bondage than that of Egypt.\n\n\"According to your logic, we are not only robbing the slaveholder, but\nthe poor slave of his valuable home, where he can enjoy the elevating\nand soul-ennobling privilege of looking 'greasy, slick, and fat'--can\nhave the privilege of being forbidden the laborious task of cultivating\nhis intellect--is forbidden to claim his wife and children as his own\ninstead of the property of John P. Chester.\"\n\nI pitied the young man, whose bitterness of hate seemed incorrigible,\nand gave advice which I deemed wholesome, although I yielded to the\ntemptation of dealing somewhat in irony and sarcasm.\n\nBut the next letter from the sick deacon was filled and running over\nwith vulgar blackguardism, that I would neither answer nor give to the\npublic eye. It was directed to \"Laura S. Haviland, Esq., or Dan.\" As it\narrived in my absence, my son Daniel handed it to Rev. John Patchin,\nwho became so indignant in reading the list of epithets that he\nproposed to reply.\n\nThe first sentence of his letter was:\n\n\"Sir,--As John Quincy Adams and Henry Clay were seated in Congress,\nthey saw passing on the street a drove of jackasses. Said Henry Clay,\n'There, Sir, Adams, is a company of your constituents as they come from\nthe North.' 'All right; they are going South to teach yours,' was the\nquick reply. And I think one of those long-eared animals has strayed\ndown your way, and your ma might have sent you to his school--I think,\nhowever, but a few weeks, or your epistolary correspondence with Mrs.\nHaviland would have been vastly improved.\"\n\nFrom the report my son gave me of the short epistle, it was filled with\nsentenced couched in the same spirit throughout; \"for,\" said he, \"that\nrabid fire-eater has been treated in a manner too mild. He needs\nsomething more nearly like his own coin.\"\n\nI shortly after received a few lines from Thomas K. Chester, informing\nme that he had my last letter struck off in hand-bills, and circulated\nin a number of the Southern States, \"over its true signature, Laura S.\nHaviland, as you dictated and your daughter wrote it; for, as strange\nas it may appear, I have the handwriting of every one of your family,\nand also of Willis Hamilton. I distribute these hand-bills for the\npurpose of letting the South see what sort of sisters they have in the\nNorth.\" We learned from a number of sources that to this circular or\nhand-bill was attached a reward of $3,000 for my head.\n\nAs for the letter that Chester had richly earned, neither my daughter\nnor myself had the privilege of perusing it, as it was mailed before my\nreturn home. But I presume the indignant writer designed to close the\nunpleasant correspondence.\n\n\nSECOND EFFORT TO RETAKE THE HAMILTON FAMILY.\n\nAfter the passage of the famous Fugitive-slave Bill of 1850, turning\nthe whole population of the North into slave-hunters, Thomas K.\nChester, with renewed assurance, came to Lawyer Beacher's office, in\nAdrian, and solicited his services in capturing the Hamiltons, as he\nwas now prepared to take legal steps in recovering his property. Said\nhe:\n\n\"I ask no favors of Adrian or Raisin, as I have my posse of thirty men\nwithin a stone's throw of this city. All I ask is legal authority from\nyou, Mr. Beacher, and I can easily get them in my possession.\"\n\n\"I can not aid you,\" said Mr. Beacher; \"it would ruin my practice as a\nlawyer.\"\n\n\"I will give you $100, besides your fee,\" rejoined Chester.\n\n\"You have not enough money in your State of Tennessee to induce me to\nassist you in any way whatever.\"\n\n\"Will you direct me to a lawyer who will aid me?\"\n\n\"I can not; I know of none in our State who could be hired to assist\nyou. And I advise you to return to your home; for you will lose a\nhundred dollars where you will gain one, if you pursue it.\"\n\nAt this advice he became enraged, and swore he would have them this\ntime, at any cost. \"And if old Laura Haviland interferes I'll put her\nin prison. I acknowledge she outwitted us before; but let her dare\nprevent my taking them this time, and I'll be avenged on her before I\nleave this State.\"\n\n\"All the advice I have to give you is to abandon this scheme, for you\nwill find no jail in this State that will hold that woman. And I\nrequest you not to enter my office again on this business, for if it\nwere known to the public it would injure my practice; and I shall not\nrecognize you on the street.\"\n\nIn a lower tone Chester continued, \"I request you, Mr. Beacher, as a\ngentleman, to keep my name and business a secret.\" With a few\nimprecations he left the office.\n\nMy friend R. Beacher sent a dispatch to me at once by Sheriff Spafford,\nto secure the safety of the Hamilton family at once, if still on my\npremises, as my Tennessee correspondents were probably in or near\nAdrian. I informed him they were safe in Canada within six months after\nthe visit from the Chesters. Mr. Beacher also advised me to make my\nproperty safe without delay, but this had been done two years\npreviously. On receiving this information my friend Beacher replied,\n\"Had I known this I would have sent for her, for I'd give ten dollars\nto see them meet.\" Mr. Chester heard that the Hamilton family had gone\nto Canada, but he did not believe it, as he also heard they had gone to\nYpsilanti, in this State, where he said he should follow them.\n\nWe learned in the sequel that he went to Ypsilanti, and took rooms and\nboard in a hotel, while calling on every colored family in town and for\ntwo or three miles around it, sometimes as a drover, at other times an\nagent to make arrangements for purchasing wood and charcoal. During\nfour weeks he found a family that answered the description of the\nHamilton family in color and number. He wrote to his father that he had\nfound them under an assumed name, and requested him to send a man who\ncould recognize them, as they had been away over eighteen years. The\nman was sent, and two weeks more were spent in reconnoitering. At\nlength both were agreed to arrest David Gordon and wife, with their\nfour children, as the Hamilton family, and applied for a warrant to\ntake the family as escaped slaves. The United States Judge, Hon. Ross\nWilkins, who issued the warrant, informed one of the most active\nunderground railroad men, George De Baptist, of this claimant's\nbusiness. He immediately telegraphed to a vigorous worker in Ypsilanti,\nwho sent runners in every direction, inquiring for a Hamilton family.\nNone could be found; and the conclusion was reached that they were\nnewcomers and were closely concealed, and the only safe way was to set\na watch at the depot for officers and their posse, and follow\nwhithersoever they went, keeping in sight. This was done, and the place\nthey found aimed for was David Gordon's. On entering the house the\nofficer placed hand-cuffs on David Gordon, who in surprise asked, \"What\ndoes this mean?\"\n\nSaid the officer, \"I understand your name is Willis Hamilton, once a\nslave in Tennessee.\"\n\nGordon replied, \"No, sir, you are mistaken; I never was in that State;\nneither is my name Hamilton, but Gordon, and I have free papers from\nVirginia.\"\n\n\"Where are your papers? If they are good they shall save you.\"\n\nPointing to a trunk, \"There they are; take that key and you'll find\nthem.\"\n\nWhile the officer was getting the papers, Chester went to the bed of\nthe sick wife, placed a six-shooter at her head, and swore he'd blow\nher brains out in a moment if she did not say their name was Hamilton.\n\"No, sir, our name is Gordon.\" Their little girl, standing by, cried\nout with fear. He turned to her, with pistol pointing toward her face,\nand swore he'd kill her that instant if she did not say her father's\nname was Willis Hamilton.\n\nAt this juncture, the officer's attention was arrested. \"What are you\nabout, you villain? You'll be arrested before you know it, if you are\nnot careful. Put up that pistol instantly, and if these papers are\ngood, I shall release this man, and return the warrant unserved.\"\n\nHe examined them and said, \"These papers I find genuine.\" He then\nremoved the handcuffs from David Gordon, and with the discomfited\nThomas K. Chester and Tennessee companion returned to the depot for the\nDetroit train.\n\nWhile on their way they met a colored man that Chester swore was Willis\nHamilton. Said the officer, \"You know not what you are about; I shall\narrest no man at your command.\"\n\nOn returning the unserved warrant to Judge Wilkins, Chester charged him\nwith being allied with the \"d----d abolitionist, old Laura Haviland, in\nrunning off that family to Malden, to keep me out of my property.\"\n\n\"I knew nothing of the family, or of your business, until you came into\nthis office yesterday,\" replied the judge.\n\nIn a rage and with an oath, he replied, \"I know, sir, your complicity\nin keeping slave-holders out of their property, and can prove it.\" He\nthrew his hat on the floor and gave a stamp, as if to strengthen his\noath.\n\nThe judge simply ordered him out of his office, instead of committing\nhim to prison for contempt of court; and with his companion he went\nback to his Tennessee home, again defeated.\n\nThomas K. Chester wrote and had published scurrilous articles in\nTennessee, and in a number of other Southern States. They were\nvigorously circulated until the following Congress, in which the grave\ncharge was brought against the judge, \"of being allied with Mrs.\nHaviland, of the interior of the State of Michigan, a rabid\nabolitionist, in keeping slaveholders out of their slave property.\" A\nvigorous effort was made by Southern members to impeach him, while his\nfriends were petitioning Congress to raise his salary, Judge Wilkins\nwas sent for to answer to these false charges. Although they failed to\nimpeach him, yet on account of these charges the addition to his salary\nwas lost.\n\nWhen these false accusations were brought into Congress, and the judge\nwas informed of the necessity of his presence to answer thereto, he\ninquired of Henry Bibb and others where I was. They informed him that I\nwas absent from home. On my return from Cincinnati with a few\nunderground railroad passengers, I learned of the trouble Judge Wilkins\nmet, and I called on him. He told me of the pile of Southern papers he\nhad received, with scurrilous articles, designed to prejudice Southern\nmembers of Congress against him. Said he, \"Although they failed in the\nimpeachment, they said they would come against me with double force\nnext Congress, and should effect their object.\" Said the judge, \"I want\nyour address, for if they do repeat their effort, with the explanation\nyou have now given, I think I can save another journey to Washington.\nThe judge was never again called upon to defend himself on this\nsubject, as their effort was not repeated; neither did their\noft-repeated threat to imprison me disturb us.\"\n\n\nDEATH OF THE CHESTERS\n\nIn the third year of the Rebellion, while in Memphis, Tennessee, on a\nmission to the perishing, I found myself in the city where my Tennessee\ncorrespondents lived a few years previous to their deaths. From a\nminister who had long been a resident of that city, and had also lived\nnear Jonesboro, where they resided during the correspondence, I learned\nthe following facts: A few years prior to the war John P. Chester\nremoved with his family to Memphis, where he became a patroller. His\nson Thomas transacted business as a lawyer. I was shown his residence,\nand the office where John P. Chester was shot through the heart by a\nmulatto man, whose free papers he demanded, doubting their validity.\nSaid the man, \"I am as free as you are; and to live a slave I never\nshall.\" He then drew a six-shooter from its hiding-place and shot him\nthrough the heart. He fell, exclaiming, \"O God, I'm a dead man.\" The\nman threw down the fatal weapon, saying to the bystanders, \"Here I am,\ngentlemen, shoot me, or hang me, just as you please, but to live a\nslave to any man I never shall.\" He was taken by the indignant crowd,\nand hung on the limb of a tree near by, pierced with many bullets. I\ncan not describe the feeling that crept over me, as I gazed upon the\npavement where John P. Chester met his fate, and which I had walked\nover in going to officers' head-quarters from the steamer. Oh! what a\nlife, to close with such a tragedy!\n\nThomas K. Chester being a few rods distant ran to assist his dying\nfather, but his life was gone ere he reached him. A few months later he\nwas brought from a boat sick with yellow fever, and died in one week\nfrom the attack in terrible paroxysms and ravings, frequently requiring\nsix men to hold him on his bed. He was ill the same length of time that\nthey falsely represented a few years before in the Toledo hotel. Said\nthe narrator, \"Thomas K. Chester's death was the most awful I ever\nwitnessed. He cursed and swore to his last breath, saying he saw his\nfather standing by his bed, with damned spirits waiting to take him\naway to eternal burnings.\"\n\nAfter a long walk one day, I called at the former residence of the\nChester family, and was seated in the front parlor. It is hard to\nimagine my feelings as I sat in the room where those two men had lain\nin death's cold embrace--men who had flourished toward my face the\nsix-shooter. It was by this kind of deadly weapon the life of one was\ntaken; and as nearly as words can describe the feigned sickness, the\nlast week of the life of the other was spent. No wonder the blood\nseemed to curdle in my veins in contemplating the lives of these men,\nand their end. It is beyond the power of pen to describe the panorama\nthat passed before me in these moments. The proprietor of the Toledo\nhotel lost custom by his complicity in their efforts to retake their\nalleged slave property. A few months after the hotel was burned to\nashes.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nAN OHIO SCHOOL-TEACHER.\n\n\nIn the Autumn of 1847 a gentleman of evident culture called for early\nbreakfast, though he had passed a public house about two miles distant.\nI mistrusted my stranger caller to be a counterfeit; and told him, as I\nhad the care of an infant for a sick friend, he would find better fare\nat the boarding hall a few rods away. But introducing himself as an\nOhio school-teacher, and accustomed to boarding around, he had not\nenjoyed his favorite bread and milk for a long while, and if I would be\nso kind as to allow him a bowl of bread and milk he would accept it as\na favor. He said he had heard of our excellent school, and wished to\nvisit it. He was also acting as agent of the _National Era_, published\nat Cincinnati, in which he was much interested, and solicited my\nsubscription. I told him I knew it to be a valuable periodical, but, as\nI was taking three, abolition papers he must excuse me.\n\nHe was also very much interested in the underground railroad projects,\nand referred to names of agents and stations, in Indiana and Ohio, in a\nway that I concluded he had been on the trail and found me, as well as\nothers, and perhaps taken the assumed agency of the _Era_ for a\ncovering. He said it was found necessary in some places in Ohio and\nIndiana to change the routes, as slave-holders had traced and followed\nthem so closely that they had made trouble in many places, and\nsuggested a change in Michigan, as there were five slave-holders in\nToledo, Ohio, when he came through, in search of escaped slaves. I\nreplied that it might be a good idea, but I had not considered it\nsufficiently to decide.\n\nContinuing his arguments, he referred to a slave who was captured by\nMr. B. Stevens, of Boone County, Kentucky. He saw him tied on a horse\nstanding at the door of an inn where he was teaching. In surprise, I\ninquired:\n\n\"Did that community allow that to be done in their midst without making\nan effort to rescue the self-made freeman?\"\n\n\"O yes, because Stevens came with witnesses and papers, proving that he\nlegally owned him; so that nothing could be done to hinder him.\"\n\n\"That could never be done in this community; and I doubt whether it\ncould be done in this State.\"\n\n\"But what could you do in a case like that?\"\n\n\"Let a slave-holder come and try us, as they did six months ago in\ntheir effort to retake the Hamilton family, who are still living here\non my premises, and you see how they succeeded;\" and I gave him their\nplans and defeat. \"Let them or any other slave-holders disturb an\nescaped slave, at any time of night or day, and the sound of a tin horn\nwould be heard, with a dozen more answering it in different directions,\nand men enough would gather around the trembling fugitive for his\nrescue. For _women_ can blow horns, and _men_ can run. Bells are used\nin our school and neighborhood; but if the sound of a tin horn is heard\nit is understood, a few miles each way from Raisin Institute, just what\nit means.\"\n\nLooking surprised, he answered: \"Well, I reckon you do understand\nyourselves here. But I don't see how you could retain one _legally_ if\npapers and witnesses were on hand.\"\n\n\"Hon. Ross Wilkins, United States judge, residing in Detroit, can\nlegally require any fugitive so claimed to be brought before him, and\nnot allow any thing to be done until the decision is reached. And there\nare many active workers to assist escaping slaves in that city, who\nwould rush to their aid, and in ten minutes see them safe in Canada. I\npresume if the slave claimant should come with a score of witnesses and\na half-bushel of papers, to prove his legal right, it would avail him\nnothing, as we claim a higher law than wicked enactments of men who\nclaim the misnomer of law by which bodies and souls of men, women, and\nchildren are claimed as chattels.\" The proprietor of the boarding hall\ndesired me to allow him to inform the stranger of our suspicions, and\ninvite him to leave. But I declined, as I had reached the conclusion\nthat my visitor was from Kentucky, and probably in search of John\nWhite, whose master had sworn that he would send him as far as wind and\nwater would carry him if he ever got him again. Professor Patchin and\nJ. F. Dolbeare called to see him, and conversed with him about his\nagency for the _Era_, etc.; and brother Patchin invited him to attend\nthe recitations of the classes in Latin and geometry. The second was\naccepted, as mathematics, he said, was his favorite study.\n\nBy four o'clock P.M., the hour of his leaving, the tide of excitement\nwas fast rising, and one of the students offered to go and inform John\nWhite of the danger we suspected, and advise him to take refuge in\nCanada until these Kentuckians should leave our State.\n\nWe surmised that the five slave-holders he reported in Toledo were his\nown company, which was soon found to be true. One of my horses was\nbrought into requisition at once for the dispatch-bearer; but he had\nnot been on his journey an hour before we learned that our Ohio teacher\ninquired of a boy on the road if there had been a mulatto man by the\nname of White attending school at Raisin Institute the past Winter.\n\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\n\"Where is he now?\"\n\n\"He hired for the season to Mr. Watkins, near Brooklyn, in Jackson\nCounty.\"\n\nThis report brought another offer to become dispatch-bearer to the\nhunted man. The following day found John White in Canada.\n\nTwo days after George W. Brazier, who claimed John White as his\nproperty, and the man who had lost the woman and five children, with\ntheir two witnesses, and their lawyer, J. L. Smith, who recently made\nme an all-day visit, entered the lowest type of a saloon in the town\nnear by, and inquired for two of the most besotted and wickedest men in\ntown. Being directed according to their novel inquiry, the men were\nfound and hired, making their number seven, to capture John White. The\nfield in which he had been at work was surrounded by the seven men at\nequal distances. But, as they neared the supposed object of their\npursuit, lo! a poor white man was there instead of the prize they were\nso sure of capturing. They repaired to the house of Mr. Watkins, and\ninquired of him for the whereabouts of John White. The frank reply was:\n\n\"I suppose he is in Canada, as I took him, with his trunk, to the\ndepot, yesterday, for that country.\"\n\nAt this Brazier poured forth a volley of oaths about me, and said he\nknew I had been there.\n\n\"Hold on, sir, you are laboring under a mistake. We have none of us\nseen her; and I want you to understand that there are others, myself\nincluded, who are ready to do as much to save a self-freed slave from\nbeing taken back to Southern bondage as Mrs. Haviland. Mr. White is\nhighly esteemed wherever he is known; and we would not see him go back\nfrom whence he came without making great effort to prevent it.\"\n\nAt this Brazier flew into a rage, and furiously swore he would yet be\navenged on me before he left the State.\"\n\n\"I advise you to be more sparing of your threats. We have a law here to\narrest and take care of men who make such threats as you have here,\"\nsaid Mr. Watkins.\n\nWith this quietus they left for Tecumseh, four miles distant from us.\n\nWhile at Snell's Hotel they displayed on the bar-room table pistols,\ndirks, and bowie-knives, and pointing to them, said Brazier, \"Here is\nwhat we use, and we'll have the life of that d--d abolitionist, Mrs.\nHaviland, before we leave this State, or be avenged on her in some\nway.\" The five men then in haste jumped aboard the stage for Adrian. As\nthe authorities were informed of these threats, and Judge Stacy was\ngoing to Adrian on business, he proposed to leave with a friend he was\nto pass the import of these threats, fearing they might quit the stage\nwhile passing through our neighborhood, and under cover of night commit\ntheir deeds of darkness. I received the note, and told the bearer I\naccepted this as the outburst of passion over their defeat, and did not\nbelieve they designed to carry out these threats, and requested the\nexcited family to keep this as near a secret as possible, during a day\nor two at least, to save my children and the school this exciting\nanxiety. But I could not appear altogether stoical, and consulted\njudicious friends, who advised me to leave my home a night or two at\nleast. This was the saddest moment I had seen. I felt that I could not\nconscientiously leave my home. \"If slaveholders wish to call on me they\nwill find me here, unless I have business away.\" They insisted that I\nshould keep my windows closed after dark, and they would send four\nyoung men students, to whom they would tell the secret, with the charge\nto keep it unless disturbance should require them to reveal it. We\nreceived information the following day that the five Kentuckians took\nthe cars for Toledo on their arrival at Adrian. Their threats increased\nthe excitement already kindled, and neighbors advised me not to remain\nin my house of nights, as there might be hired emissaries to execute\ntheir will. Some even advised me to go to Canada for safety. But rest\nwas mine in Divine Providence.\n\nThe following week I accompanied an insane friend with her brother to\nToledo. The brother wished me to go to Monroe on business for them. He\nsoon informed me that the five Kentuckians were in the same hotel with\nus, and he overheard one say that I had no doubts followed them to see\nwhether they had found any of their runaways, and that one of their\nparty was going wherever I did to watch my movements. This friend also\nsaw them consulting with the barkeeper, who sat opposite at breakfast\ntable, and introduced the defeated stratagem of the Tennessee\nslave-holders at the Toledo hotel a few months previously. Said he, \"I\nbelieve you are the lady who met them there. Some of us heard of it\nsoon after, and we should have rushed there in a hurry if there had\nbeen an attempt to take a fugitive from our city. They might as well\nattempt to eat through an iron wall as to get one from us. I am an\nabolitionist of the Garrison stamp, and there are others here of the\nsame stripe.\" And in this familiar style he continued, quite to my\nannoyance, at the table. He came to me a number of times after\nbreakfast to find what he could do to assist me in having the hack take\nme to whatever point I wished to go.\n\n\"Are you going east, madam?\"\n\n\"Not today.\"\n\n\"Or are you designing to go south, or to return on the Adrian train?\"\n\n\"I shall not go in either direction today.\"\n\nLeaving me a few moments, he returned with inquiring whether I was\ngoing to Monroe, and giving as the reason for his inquiries the wish to\nassist me. I informed him I was going to take the ten o'clock boat for\nMonroe. I learned in the sequel that they charged me with secreting the\nwoman and five children, and aiding their flight to Canada; but of them\nI knew nothing, until my Ohio teacher informed me of their flight, and\nwhile I was suspected and watched by their pursuers, we had reason to\nbelieve they were placed on a boat at Cleveland, and were safe in\nCanada.\n\nWe learned that their lawyer made inquiries while in my neighborhood\nwhether my farm and Raisin Institute were entirely in my hands. When\nthey became satisfied of the fact they left orders for my arrest upon a\nUnited States warrant, to be served the following Autumn, if they\nfailed to recover their human property. About the expiration of the\ntime set George W. Brazier went with a gang of slaves for sale to Baton\nRouge, Louisiana, and died suddenly of cholera. There his projects\nended, and John White soon returned to his work in Michigan.\n\nThese circumstances delayed my prospect of going to Cincinnati and\nRising Sun to learn the condition of his family, but as money had been\nraised by the anxious husband and father and his friends, I went to\nCincinnati, where I found my friends, Levi Coffin and family. The\nvigilant committee was called to his private parlor, to consult as to\nthe most prudent measure to adopt in securing an interview with Jane\nWhite, John's wife, whose master, Benjamin Stevens, was her father, and\nthe vain hope was indulged that he would not make an effort to retake\nthe family should they make a start for freedom. The committee proposed\nthat I should go to Rising Sun, and, through Joseph Edgerton and Samuel\nBarkshire and families, obtain an interview with Jane White, as they\nwere intelligent and well-to-do colored friends of John White's in\nRising Sun.\n\nAccordingly I went, and called on Joseph Edgerton's eating-house. On\nmaking my errand known, there was great rejoicing over good news from\ntheir esteemed friend Felix White, as John was formerly called. In\nconferring with these friends and Samuel Barkshire, they thought the\nerrand could be taken to Jane, through Stevens's foreman slave,\nSolomon, who was frequently allowed to cross the river on business for\nhis master, and was looked for the following Saturday. But as we were\ndisappointed, Joseph's wife, Mary Edgerton, proposed to go with me to\nBenjamin Stevens's, ostensibly to buy plums. As there was no trace of\nAfrican blood perceivable in her, and the Stevens family, both white\nand colored, had seen her mother, who was my size, with blue eyes,\nstraight brown hair, and skin as fair as mine, there was no question as\nto relationship when Mary introduced me to Jane and her sister Nan as\nAunt Smith (my maiden name). It was also known to the Stevens family\nthat Mary was expecting her aunt from Georgia to spend a few weeks with\nher. When we entered the basement, which was the kitchen of the Stevens\nhouse, twelve men and women slaves just came in from the harvest-field\nfor their dinner, which consisted of \"corn dodgers\" placed in piles at\nconvenient distances on the bare table, made of two long rough boards\non crossed legs. A large pitcher filled as full as its broken top would\nallow of sour milk, and a saucer of greens, with a small piece of pork\ncut in thin slices, were divided among the hands, who were seated on\nthe edge of their table, except a few who occupied stools and broken\nchairs. Not a whole earthen dish or plate was on that table. A broken\nknife or fork was placed by each plate, and they used each other's\nknife or fork, and ate their humble repast with apparent zest. I have\ngiven this harvest dinner in detail, as Benjamin Stevens was called a\nremarkably kind master. It was frequently remarked by surrounding\nplanters \"that the Stevens niggers thought they were white.\"\n\nAs we were informed they had no plums for sale, Mary proposed filling\nour \"buckets\" with blackberries, as there were an abundance within a\nshort distance, and asked Jane if she or Nan could not go and show us\nthe way. \"I'll go an' ask Missus Agnes,\" replied Nan, who soon returned\nwith the word that Jane might go, as she wanted to make another batch\nof jam. \"But she says we must get dinner for Mary and her aunt first.\"\nA small tablecloth was placed over one end of the table, and wheat\nbread, butter, honey, and a cream-pitcher of sweet milk was brought\ndown for us. Not a child of the nine little ones playing in the kitchen\nasked for a taste of anything during or after our meal. All that was\nleft was taken up stairs, and we were invited to call on Mrs. Agnes,\nwho received us cordially. She was teaching Jane's oldest daughter, of\nseven years, to sew. After a few minutes chat with the mistress, we\nleft for blackberries.\n\nWhen out of sight, I told Jane I was the one who wrote a letter for her\nhusband, Felix White, to her, and directed it to Samuel Barkshire, who\ntold me he read it to her, but did not dare take it from his house, but\ntook the braid of his hair tied with blue ribbon, sent in the letter.\nShe looked at me in amazement for a moment, when she burst into a flood\nof tears. As soon as she could command her feelings she said her master\nhad told her that he had heard from Felix, and that he was married\nagain, and was riding around with his new wife mighty happy. When I\ngave her the errand from her husband she was again convulsed with\nweeping. Said she, \"I would gladly work day and night, until my fingers\nand toes are without a nail, and willingly see my children work in the\nsame way, could we only be with Felix.\" Poor heartbroken woman, she\nsighed like a sobbing child. But two of her children were out a few\nmiles with one of the Stevens married children, to be gone two months,\nand she sent a request to her husband to come on the sly to assist in\nbringing their children away after the return of the absent ones, so\nthat all might go together. I assisted her in picking berries, as she\nhad spent so much of her time in talking and weeping her mistress might\ncomplain. I gave her a little memento from her husband, and left the\npoor heartstricken, crushed spirit.\n\nThe daughter and grandchildren of the master withheld them from going\nto their natural protector, yet he was called one of the best of\nslave-holders. Here was a woman and sister whose widowhood was more\ndesolate than even death had made my own. And her poor children were\nworse than fatherless. I returned to my home and anxious children and\nfriends.\n\nBut the grieved husband felt confident his intimate friend William\nAllen, who would have left for freedom long ago but for his wife and\nchild, would assist Jane and the children could he know from him how\nmany warm friends there were in the North to assist them. His friends,\nas well as himself, were anxious to make another trial without the risk\nof his going into the lion's den. Means being provided, three mouths\nlater found me again in Rising Sun. After a little waiting to see\nWilliam Allen, I took a boat and went four miles below on the Kentucky\nside, and called at the house of his master to wait for a boat going up\nthe river within a few hours.\n\nAs they were having a great excitement over counterfeiters, and were\nmaking great efforts to find the rogues, and looking upon every\nstranger with suspicion, I was believed by my host to be one of them in\ndisguise. Within an hour after my arrival the sheriff and a deputy were\nbrought into an adjoining room. The lady of the house appeared excited.\nHer little girl inquired who those strange gentlemen were; she replied\nthe sheriff and his deputy. I looked up from the paper I was busily\nreading, and entered into conversation with the lady of the house, when\nI overhead one man say, \"I don't think there is anything wrong about\nthat woman.\" This remark led me to suppose I might be the object of the\nundertone conversation among the gentlemen in the adjoining room. Soon\nafter the three gentlemen came into the room, with whom I passed the\nusual \"good afternoon.\" One, whom I took to be the sheriff, made a few\nremarks over fine weather, etc., and all three returned to their room.\nSaid one, in a low voice, \"I tell you that woman is all right; she's no\ncounterfeiter.\" My excited hostess became calm, and quite social, and\nmade excuses for having to look after the cooking of her turkey, as she\nallowed her cook to spend this Sabbath with her husband in visiting one\nof their friends. \"And I always burn and blister my hands whenever I\nmake an attempt at cooking. But my cook is so faithful I thought I\nwould let her go today.\"\n\nAs I gave up the idea of seeing William Allen, I was about to go to the\nwharf-boat and wait there for the five o'clock boat. But she urged me\nto take dinner with them, as I would have plenty of time. After dinner\nthey directed me across a pasture-field that would shorten the\nhalf-mile. Just out of sight of the house I met William Allen, with his\nwife and little girl of ten years. As they were so well described by\nJohn--or Felix, as he was here known--I recognized them, and gave the\nmessage from their friend, from whom they rejoiced to hear. He said he\nlonged to be free, and thought two weeks from that day he could go over\nto Samuel Barkshire's to see me. During this time he would deliver the\nmessage to Jane. At present, he said, it would be very difficult\ncrossing, as there was great excitement over men that passed a lot of\ncounterfeit money in that neighborhood, and they were watching for\nthem. I told him it was not safe for us to talk longer there, as they\nwere slaves, and I was not free to be seen talking with them, and gave\nthem the parting hand, informing them that many prayers of Christian\npeople of the North were daily ascending for the deliverance of the\nslave. \"May God grant the answer!\" was the heartfelt reply.\n\nDuring the two weeks Mary Scott was introduced, who had recently bought\nherself, with her free husband's aid. She related to me the sad\ncondition of her sister, Rachel Beach, who was the slave of Mr. Ray,\nthe brother of Wright Ray, of Madison, Indiana, the noted negro\ncatcher. She was the kept mistress of her master, who held her and her\nfive children, who were his own flesh and blood, as his property. After\nher sister Rachel's religious experience, she was much distressed over\nthe life she was compelled to lead with her master. She had often wept\nwith her weeping sister. When she thought of escaping, she could not\nleave her five little children to her own sad fate. As I was informed\nthat Mary Scott was a reliable Christian woman, I gave her a plan, and\nnames of persons and places of safety, with a charge not to stop over\nthe second night--if possible, to avoid it--at the first place named;\nfor it was too near her master's brother, Wright Ray, as he would make\ngreat efforts to retake them.\n\nThis plan was adopted. But they were kept two days at Luther Donald's\nstation, which brought them into great difficulty. He was so well known\nas the slave's friend it was unsafe to secrete fugitives on his own\npremises; and he placed them in an out-house of one of his friends. On\nthe second night of their flight, when they were to be taken to the\nnext station, Wright Ray was on their track, and entered the\nneighborhood at dark twilight, filling it with excitement on the part\nof both friends and foes. The cry of a child brought a neighbor to\ntheir hiding-place, who told her she was unsafe; but he would take her\nand the children to his barn, where they would be perfectly secure.\nSoon after her new friend left her she felt in great danger, and when\nher children were asleep in their bed of stalls she ventured to place\nherself by the road-side. Here she heard horses coming, and listened to\nhear the voice of their riders, to see if she could recognize her first\nfriends, as they had told her they were going to take them to another\nplace of safety that night; but, to her grief, she heard the voice of\nWright Ray, with his posse. Filled with fear of capture, she groped her\nway still farther back in the dark. After her pursuers passed she heard\ntwo men coming, in low conversation. She prayed for direction, and felt\nimpressed, as she said, to tell these men her trouble. They proved to\nbe her friends, who missed them as they went to take their suppers. As\nRay and his company were known to be in town, they knew not but they\nwere captured. Runners were sent to the usual resorts of slave-hunters,\nto see if any clew could be learned of the fate of the missing family.\n\n\"O, how I prayed God to deliver me in this my great distress!\" she\nsaid, in relating her flight in my interview with her in Canada. She\nled her two friends to the barn, from whence her sleeping children were\nremoved; but by the time they reached the road they saw the lantern,\nand heard rustling of stalks by her pursuers. As her new friend was a\nwell-known friend to slave-hunters, she and her children were still in\ngreat danger. She was dressed in men's clothing, and her girls dressed\nlike boys, and they were taken out in different directions. Rachel and\nthe youngest child her guide took to a Quaker neighborhood, while two\nmen took each two girls on their horses and took different roads to\nother places of safety; but no two of the three parties knew of the\nothers' destination. Two days of distressing anxiety were passed before\na word reached the mother from her children. Not knowing but they were\nback to their old Kentucky home, she could neither eat nor sleep for\nweeping and praying over the probable loss of her children. But her joy\ncould not find expression when two of them were brought to her. At\nfirst sight of her darlings, she cried out, \"Glory to God! he has sent\nme two more. But where, O, where are the other two?\" The two men who\nbrought these in their close carriage could give no tidings, as they\nhad heard nothing from them since leaving Donald Station. Rachel\ncontinued weeping for her children because they were not. On the\nfollowing day they were heard from, and that they would be brought on\nthe following day, P. M.\n\nA number of the neighbors were invited to witness the meeting. Among\nthem was a strong pro-slavery man and his family, who had often said\nthe abolitionists might as well come to his barn and steal his horse or\nwheat as to keep slave-holders out of their slave property; yet he was\nnaturally a sympathetic man. This Quaker abolitionist knew it would do\nhim good to witness the anticipated scene. The knowledge of the\nprospective arrival of the children was carefully kept from the mother\nuntil she saw them, coming through the gate, when she cried aloud, as\nshe sank on the floor, \"Glory; hallelujah to the Lamb! You sent me\nall.\" She sobbed as she clasped them to her bosom, continuing, in an\necstasy, \"Bless the Lord forever! He is so good to poor me.\" The little\ngirls threw their arms around their mother's neck, and burst into a\nloud cry for joy. \"But the weeping was not confined to them,\" said our\nQuaker sister, who was present. \"There was not a dry eye in that house;\nand our pro-slavery neighbor cried as hard as any of us.\"\n\nAfter the excitement died away a little, said one, \"Now, we must adopt\na plan to take this family on to Canada.\"\n\nThe pro-slavery man was the first to say, \"I'll take my team, and take\nthem where they'll be safe, if I have to take them all the way.\"\n\nAnother said, \"It is cold weather, and we see these children have bare\nfeet; and we must see about getting them stockings and shoes and warm\nclothing.\"\n\nAnd the little daughter of him who had so generously offered his\nservices in aiding this family beyond the reach, of danger sat down on\nthe carpet and commenced taking off hers, saying, \"She can have mine.\"\n\n\"But, Lotty, what will you do?\" said the mother.\n\n\"O, papa can get me some more.\"\n\n\"Yes, papa will get you some more,\" said her father, wiping his eyes;\n\"and your shoes and stockings will just fit that little girl.\" And the\nmother could hardly keep her from leaving them. But she told her to\nwear them home and put others on, then bring them back.\n\nSaid our informant, \"I will warrant that man will hereafter become a\nstockholder.\"\n\nBut the rescue of the Beach family cost Luther Donald his farm. He was\nsued and found guilty of harboring runaway slaves and assisting them to\nescape. But not one sentence of truthful evidence was brought against\nhim in court; although he did aid the Beach family when a stay of three\nminutes longer in their dangerous hiding-place would have secured their\nreturn to a life of degradation. Friends of the fugitive made up the\nloss in part, and the God of the oppressed blessed him still more\nabundantly. He was diligent in business, serving the Lord.\n\nWhile rejoicing over the safe arrival of the Beach family in Canada,\nheavy tidings reached me from home. In a letter I was informed of the\nillness of my eldest son. Before the boat arrived that was to bear me\nhomeward a second letter came with the sad intelligence of the death of\nmy first-born. Oh, how my poor heart was wrung with anxiety to learn\nthe state of his mind as he left the shores of time. Why did not the\nwriter relieve me by giving the information I most needed? And yet I\nwas advised to remain until the weather became more mild. I had a\nsevere cough that followed an attack of pneumonia, and physicians had\nadvised me to spend the Winter in a milder climate. But this\nbereavement seemed impelling me to return to my afflicted children. But\nmore than all other considerations was to learn the state of that dear\nchild's mind as he was about leaving the land of the dying for the\nspirit world of the living. He had been a living Christian, but during\nthe year past had become more inactive, and in a conversation on the\nsubject a few days previous to my leaving, he expressed regrets in not\nbeing more faithful. He urged me to take this trip, yet I could not but\nregret leaving home. \"Oh my son, my son Harvey would to God I had died\nfor thee!\" In this distress, bordering upon agony of soul, I walked my\nroom to and fro, praying for an evidence of his condition. In the\nconversation above alluded to he expressed a sincere desire to return.\n\nSaid he, \"I am too much like the prodigal, too far away from my\nSavior.\" How vividly did his words come before me! Oh, how these words\nran through my mind in this hour of sore trial. Is this the Isaac, I\ndwelt upon as I was leaving my home, that I may be called to sacrifice?\nI had in mind my son Daniel, who was fearful I would meet trouble from\nslave-holders, as he remarked to his brother Harvey, \"Mother is a\nstranger to fear, though she might be in great danger.\"\n\n\"That fact, seems to me, secures her safety,\" replied Harvey.\n\nAs I overheard this conversation I shrank from the trial of leaving my\nhome circle, in which death had made such inroads, and for the time\nbeing doubted whether I was called upon to make the sacrifice. But\nprayer was now constant for an evidence of my son's condition, whether\nprepared for exchange of worlds. He who spake peace to the troubled sea\ngranted the answer of peace, with an assurance that my prayer was\nanswered, and that in his own good time he would make it manifest.\n\nI took the boat for Cincinnati, and on the morning after my arrival at\nthe home of my valued friends, Levi Coffin and wife, I awoke with a\ncomforting dream, which but for the circumstances I would not record. I\nfind in the written Word of divine truth that God, at sundry times,\nmade himself known to his faithful servants in dreams. And he is the\nsame in all ages, in answering their petitions and meeting their wants.\nIn the dream I thought I was living in the basement of a beautiful\nmansion. Being rather dark, damp, and cool, I looked for some means of\nwarming my apartments, when I discovered the windows conveyed beautiful\nrays of sunlight sufficient to dry and warm apartments designed for\nonly a temporary residence, as my future home was to be in the splendid\napartments above, which I was not to be permitted to enter until the\nwork assigned me in the basement was done. While busily engaged in\nsweeping my room, and arranging my work, I saw my son Harvey,\ndescending from the upper portion of this limitless mansion, which I\nthought was now his home. I hastened to the door to meet him. As the\nthought struck me that he had been a slave, I cried out, \"My son\nHarvey, art thou free?\"\n\n\"Oh yes, mother, I am _free_; and I knew your anxiety, and I came on\npurpose to tell you that I went to my Master and asked if he would\ngrant my pardon? And he looked upon me and saw me in my blood as I\nplowed in the field, and he said I should be free and live.\"\n\n\"Oh, what a relief is this glad news,\" I replied.\n\n\"I knew you desired me to go for my freedom long ago, but I did not\nknow that my liberty would be so easily granted--just for asking. I am\nnow free, indeed.\"\n\nThis message delivered, he ascended to his glorious home above. I awoke\nwith the words of this message as clearly impressed upon my mind as if\nvocally spoken. I opened the Bible at the head of my bed, and the first\nwords that met my eye were these: \"I saw Ephraim cast out in the open\nfield; I saw him in his blood, and I said live; and he shall live.\"\nWith promises given by him with whom there is no variableness or shadow\nof turning, my heart was filled with praise and thanksgiving for the\nComforter who grants peace such as the world knows not of. Very soon a\nletter came with the detailed account of the last hours of my son\nHarvey, in which he left a bright evidence of his preparation for the\nfuture life. He sent for Rev. John Patchin, of Raisin Institute, of\nwhom he requested prayer; at the close of which he followed in fervent\nprayer for himself and loved ones. Then brother Patchin inquired if\nperfect peace was his at this hour? \"It is,\" he answered; \"I am ready\nto go,\" and he soon fell asleep in Jesus.\n\nI remained a few weeks longer; but the close search for counterfeiters\nmade it difficult for William Allen to cross.\n\nThe request was repeated by John White's wife for him to come for them.\nI returned home with the consciousness of having done all that I could\nin delivering the messages as requested. The husband and father could\nnot feel reconciled to give up his family to a life of slavery, and\nwent for them, and brought them a few miles on the Indiana side, above\nRising Sun. They secreted themselves during the day in the woods, and\nwith the aid of his friend and Solomon Stevens's slave, previously\nalluded to, who was also attempting to escape with the family, he made\na raft upon which they were about to cross a creek to reach the team on\nthe opposite side. Suddenly six armed men pounced upon them, and\ncaptured the family, with Solomon. To save John from the hazardous\nattempt to defend his family, his friend held him back in the thicket,\nknowing the effort must fail. As he was not allowed to move he sank\nback in despair in the arms of his friend. He had risked his own life\nand liberty in his attempt to rescue them. He learned that George W.\nBrazier swore he would chop him into inches if he ever got possession\nof him again. After his unsuccessful effort in Michigan he offered six\nhundred dollars for his head, dead or alive. Benjamin Stevens also\noffered six hundred dollars reward for his daughter and his five\ngrandchildren, with Solomon. He afterwards sold them all for the very\nlow price of one thousand dollars, with the proviso that they were not\nto be sold apart.\n\nBut poor Jane was not left long to grieve over her disappointed hopes.\nShe died of cholera. We heard she went rejoicing in that hope that\nreaches beyond the vale. They were taken to Lexington, Kentucky, but\nthe grieved husband and father again made his way northward. He was two\nweeks in reaching a settlement that was said to be friendly to fugitive\nslaves. Forty miles distant from his old Kentucky home he assumed the\nname of James Armstrong. The family upon whom he ventured to call\nappeared very kind, and the man told him he would take him the next day\nto a Quaker settlement, but he suspected he was reported to Wright Ray\nand posse, who came into the house and bound him. Placing him on one of\ntheir horses, they took him through fields and back roads until they\ncrossed the Ohio river, and lodged him in the Woodford jail, a short\ndistance from the river, nearly opposite Madison, Indiana. Wright Ray\nhad no idea of having in his possession John White, who had so recently\neluded his grasp in his unsuccessful trip with Brazier in Michigan. He\nfound among his papers in which were advertisements of escaped slaves,\nHenry Armstrong advertised as belonging to the widow Armstrong, of\nMaysville, Kentucky. With her Wright Ray had an interview, hoping to\narrange for the reward, which she refused to give, for he had been away\nso long, he would be of little use, as Henry was willed free at her\ndeath. But she told him if he could get enough from him to pay him for\nhis trouble, he might do so. Consequently he made him an offer to\nrelease him for four hundred dollars, and encouraged him to write to\nhis friends in Michigan to aid him to that amount. He wrote to a\nson-in-law of Mr. Watkins, so as not to mention a name of persons the\nmen had to do with in Michigan, and the letter was brought to us. We\nall understood the writer to be our friend John White.\n\nA few friends were consulted as to the measures to be adopted. It was\nproposed that I should go to Cincinnati, and there make such\narrangements as the friends might think proper. As they proposed to\nbear my expenses, I said, \"If you send me, I shall go to-morrow\nmorning.\"\n\n\"But,\" replied the bearer of the letter, \"as it is the Sabbath, I\nsuppose I should hesitate.\"\n\n\"It was lawful on the Sabbath to lift a sheep out of the ditch in the\ndays of Moses, and is not a man better than a sheep?\"\n\n\"I can not answer you. All I have to say is, follow the dictates of\nyour own conscience.\"\n\nI took the stage at Toledo, and in three days I was consulting the\nvigilance committee in Levi Coffin's council chamber. As it would not\ndo for me to transact business with Wright Ray, Micajah White, nephew\nof Catherine Coffin, offered to go as soon as the money was obtained.\nLevi Coffin introduced me to Dr. Judkins, of whom I hired the money,\nbut hoped to lessen the amount if possible, in the arrangement with\nWright Ray. I urged on the nephew the necessity of taking the first\nboat for Madison, as every hour endangered the safety of John White.\nWhatever was done for him must be done quickly. Wright Ray was found\nvery willing to accept three hundred and fifty dollars, which was\nplaced in the hands of the clerk of the boat until his prisoner was\ndelivered to his friends in Cincinnati, when Micajah White agreed to\nsee the money paid to Wright Ray. This was done, and within three weeks\nfrom the time I left home I returned with John White. The day after\nJohn's release Brazier appeared at the jail, having heard that he was\nthere. But he was too late.\n\nA few months after John White's release from Woodford jail George W.\nBrazier went to Baton Rouge, Louisiana, with a gang of slaves for sale,\nand suddenly died of cholera, just before the time fixed for his\nreturn. It was said he intended to make a second effort to capture John\nWhite, or to arrest me with United States warrant. Time rolled on, and\nJohn F. White married a young woman in Canada, his home a number of\nyears. After the late war he removed to Ann Arbor, Michigan, to educate\nhis children. When we last heard of his first children, his oldest\ndaughter was married to Solomon, the ex-slave of Benjamin Stevens. We\nrejoice that brighter days are dawning. Ethiopia is stretching out her\nhands to God.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nTHE UNDERGROUND RAILWAY.\n\n\nAs my married children had charge of the farm, and the younger ones\nwere in school, and well provided for, I spent a few months in mission\nwork and nursing the sick. My dear friends, Levi and Catherine Coffin,\nhad given me a very cordial invitation to make their house my home\nwhenever I was in Cincinnati. Soon after my arrival, at early dawn,\nnine slaves crossed the river, and were conducted to one of our friends\non Walnut Hills for safety, until arrangements could be made to forward\nthem to Victoria's domain. I called on them to see what was needed for\ntheir Northern march, and found them filled with fear lest they should\nbe overtaken. As there was a prospect before them of being taken down\nthe river, they concluded to \"paddle their own canoe.\" They had with\nthem their five little folks, that seemed as full of fear as were their\ntrembling parents. A little girl of five years raised the window-shade\nto look out. When her mother discovered her she exclaimed, in a\nhalf-smothered voice, \"Why, Em! you'll have us all kotched, if you\ndon't mind;\" and the little thing dropped behind a chair like a\nfrightened young partridge hiding under a leaf at the mother's alarm of\ndanger. While making our plans, we were greatly relieved, to find that\nthe well known Quaker conductor, William Beard, was in the city, with a\nload of produce from his farm. This covered market-wagon was a safe\ncar, that had borne many hundreds to his own depot, and was now ready\nfor more valuable freight before the city should be filled with\nslave-hunters. But few weeks elapsed before we learned of the safe\narrival of these two families that we fitted for their journey to\nCanada.\n\nOne of our vigilance committee came early one morning to inform us that\nthere were two young men just arrived, who were secreted in the\nbasement of Zion Baptist Church (colored). As their home was only\ntwenty-five miles from the river, it was necessary to make all possible\nspeed in removing them before Kentucky slave-hunters should block our\ntrack. I took their measures, to procure for each a Summer suit, and\nwent to our store of new and second-hand clothing, at Levi Coffin's,\nwhere anti-slavery women met tri-monthly, to spend a day in making and\nrepairing clothing for fugitive slaves. In early evening I took a large\nmarket-basket, with a suit for each, and had them conducted to a safer\nhiding-place, until a way opened for them to go to a Friends'\nsettlement, about eighty miles distant, where George chose to remain\nand work a few months. But James would not risk his liberty by\ntarrying, and censured George for running such a risk. \"You needn't\nthink your new name's gwine to save you when ole massa comes.\"\n\nBut little did James understand the deep-hidden reason that kept his\nfriend George behind. He worked faithfully nearly a year, kept the suit\nI gave him for his Sunday suit, and used his old Kentucky suit for his\nwork, patching them himself, until patch upon patch nearly covered the\nold brown jeans of his plantation wear. When warm weather again\nreturned, without revealing his design of going back to his master in\nKentucky, for he knew his abolition friends would discourage his\nproject, he took the eighty dollars he had earned since he left his\nmaster, and wore the suit of clothes he brought away, and in the\ndarkness of night went to his wife's cabin. Here he gave a full history\nof the kind friends who had paid good wages for his work, and said he\nwas going to take all to his master, and tell him he was sick of\nfreedom; \"and you mus' be mighty mad,\" he went on, \"'case I come back;\nand say, 'If he's a mind to make sich a fool of his self, as to be so\njubus, 'case I talked leetle while wid Jake, long time ago, as to run\noff an' leave me, he may go. He needn't think I'll take 'im back; I\nwon't have nothin' to say to 'im, never!' Ad' I'll quarrel 'bout you\ntoo; an' when all ov 'em is done fussin' 'bout me comin' back, I'll\nsteal to you in a dark night, an' lay a plan to meet on Lickin' River;\nan' we'll take a skiff an' muffle oars till we get to the Ohio; an' I\nknows jus' whar to go in any dark night, an' we 'll be free together. I\ndidn't tell Jim I's gwine to make massa b'leve all my lies to get you;\nfor I tell you, Liz, I ain't got whole freedom without you.\"\n\nBefore eight o'clock A. M. George stood before his master, with his old\nname and old plantation suit, presenting him with the eighty dollars he\nhad earned for his master since he had left his home, that he never\nwanted to leave again. For he had found \"abolitioners the greates'\nrascals I ever seen. I wants no more ov' em. They tried hard to git me\nto Canada; but I got all I wants of Canada, An' I tell you, Massa\nCarpenter, all I wants is one good stiddy home. I don't want this\nmoney; it's yourn.\"\n\nHis master was well pleased, and told all his neighbors how happy his\nTom was to get back again, and gave all the money he had earned since\nhe had been gone. It was a long time before neighboring planters had\nthe confidence in Tom that his master had, and they told him that Tom\nshould never step his foot on their plantations; but he told them all\nthat he had perfect confidence in Tom's honesty. \"He came back\nperfectly disgusted with abolitionists; he said they will work a fellow\nhalf to death for low wages. And he even patched his old suit, himself,\nthat he wore off. And I have found the reason why he left. He and Liz\nhad a quarrel, and now he don't care a fig about her; and I heard\nyesterday that her master says he'll shoot him if he dares to come on\nhis plantation. But he needn't worry; for you couldn't hire Tom to go\nnear Liz.\"\n\nTom's master told him all the planters were afraid of him, and said he\nwould play a trick on him yet.\n\n\"I'll stay at home, then, and won't even go out to meetin's, till all\nov 'em will see I means what I says.\"\n\n\"That's right, Tom; they don't know you like I do. Bat I told them 't\nwould do all the niggers good just to hear your story about the\nmeanness of abolitionists. You know, Tom, that was just what I told\nyou, that they pretended to be your friends, but they were your worst\nenemies.\"\n\n\"Yes, massa, I al'us bleved you; and if Liz hadn't cut up the way she\ndid I never'd tried 'em.\"\n\nAll things went on smoothly with Tom. He was never more trusty,\ndiligent, and faithful in all that pertained to his master's interest.\nThree months still found him contented and happy, and the constant\npraise he received from his master to his neighbors began to inspire\nthem with sufficient confidence to permit him to attend their meetings\noccasionally, though he did not appear anxious to enjoy that privilege\nuntil his master proposed his going, and then he was careful to attend\nonly day meetings. Neighboring white people often talked with him about\nhis Northern trip, and all got the story he had told his master, until\nTom became quite a pet missionary, as his reports went far and near,\namong both whites and blacks. After Lizzie's master became quite\nsatisfied with her hatred toward Tom, he allowed the hound, which he\nkept over two months to watch for Tom, to go back to the keeper. Though\nTom and Lizzie lived eight miles apart, they had a secret\ndispatch-bearer, by whom they reported to each other; but visits were\nvery few and far between.\n\nOne day, in her \"clarin-up time,\" Lizzie came across a bundle\ncontaining a Sunday suit, placed in her cabin when Tom left for the\nNorth, which she took occasion to have a good quarrel over. Taking them\ninto her mistress, the master being present, she said, \"Missus, that'll\nI do wid dese ole close Tom lef, when he get mad an' run'd off to spite\nme; now I'll burn 'em up or giv' 'em to de pigs for nes', I ain't gwine\nto hav' 'em in my way any longer.\"\n\n\"Oh, don't burn 'em up, can't you send 'im word to come and get 'em?\"\n\n\"I sends 'im no word, if he never gets 'em; I'd heap better giv' 'em to\nde hogs.\"\n\nTurning to another house servant, her mistress said, \"Dil, you tell\nPage's Jim when he goes to that big meeting your people are going to\nhave next week, to tell Tom to come and take his truck away, or Liz\nwill pitch 'em in the fire for 'im.\"\n\nBut there was no hurry manifest, after he got the word. Tom's master\ntold him he had better go and get his clothes or Liz might destroy\nthem. Said our George, \"One Saturday evenin' I went to have my las'\nquarrel with Lizzie. I called her bad names, an' she flung back mean\nnames, an' twitted me with runnin' away to make her feel bad, when she\ndidn't care a picayune for me; an' I tole her I never wanted to see her\nface agin, an' we almos' cum to blows.\"\n\nA few months after this there was a holiday, and Tom was so faithful,\nhis master gave him permission to visit his aunt, six miles distant in\nan opposite direction from Lizzie's home, and she too got permission to\nvisit her friends five miles away, but not towards Tom's master. The\nplan laid in his midnight visit was to start after sundown, and go\nuntil dark in the direction of the place each had their permission to\ngo, and then go for Licking River; and she was to go up the river,\nwhile he was to go down, until they met. He was to secure the first\nskiff with oars he could find to aid them down the river with all\npossible speed to the Ohio. They succeeded in making good time after\nthey met, until day dawn overtook them, when they hid the skiff under a\nclump of bushes, and the oars they took the precaution to hide some\ndistance away in case the skiff was discovered and taken away. They\nsecreted themselves still further in the woods, but not so far but they\ncould watch their tiny craft through the thicket. Much to their\ndiscomfiture a number of boys found their skiff, and had a long hunt\nfor the oars, but not succeeding, furnished themselves with poles and\npushed out of sight to the great relief of the temporary owners, so\nnear being discovered during the hunt for the oars. At ten o'clock,\nwhen all was still, they crept out of their hiding-place, took their\noars, and hunted two hours before they found another skiff. Though\nsmaller and harder to manage than the one they lost, yet they reached\nthe Ohio just at sunrise. Two men on the opposite side of Licking River\nhallooed, \"Where are you going?\"\n\n\"To market, sir.\"\n\n\"What have you got?\"\n\n\"Butter an' eggs, sir.\"\n\nAs he saw them in the skiff and pushing toward them, he expected every\nmoment to be overhauled, but he pulled with all his might for the\nopposite shore, and did not dare look back until they had reached the\nmiddle of the river, when, to their great relief, the two men had given\nup the chase and turned back, and had almost reached the place of their\nstarting. He said Lizzie trembled so hard that the coat over her shook,\nso great was her fear. Said Lizzie, \"I reckon the owner of the coat\nshook as hard as I did when you was pullin' for life. I specs you sent\nfear clare down into them paddles you's sweattin' over;\" and they had a\ngood laugh over fright and success.\n\nWith George there was no fear after entering the basement of Zion\nBaptist Church, his old hiding-place. As soon as the report came to us\nthat a man and his wife had just arrived, I called to learn their\ncondition and needs, and asked the woman who had charge of the basement\nto tell them a friend would call to see them, as new-comers were always\nso timid. A voice from the adjoining room was heard to say, \"Come right\nin, Mrs. Haviland, we are not afraid of you;\" and as the fugitive\nclasped my hand in both of his, I exclaimed, \"Where have you seen me?\"\n\n\"Don't you mind Jim and George you giv' a basket full of close to las'\nSummer? You giv' me the linen pants an' blue checked gingham coat and\nstraw hat, an' you giv' Jim thin pants and coat and palm-leaf hat; and\ndon't you mind we went out in a market-wagon to a Quaker settlement?\"\n\n\"Yes, but how came you here again?\"\n\n\"It was for this little woman I went back.\" Then he went over his\nmanaging process, as above related.\n\nAs I was soon to go to my home in Michigan, it was proposed by our\nvigilance committee that this couple, with Sarah, who made her escape\nover a year previously, should go with me. Sarah was to be sold away\nfrom her little boy of three years for a fancy girl, as she was a\nbeautiful octoroon and attractive in person. She knew full well the\nfate that awaited her, and succeeded in escaping. She was an excellent\nhouse servant, and highly respected by all who made her acquaintance\nfor her sterling Christian character and general intelligence. She had\nlived in a quiet Christian family, who gave her good wages, but she did\nnot dare to risk her liberty within one hundred miles of her former\nhome.\n\nA few days after the arrival of George and wife a mulatto woman and her\ndaughter of sixteen, bound South from Virginia, left a steamer and\njoined our company. While waiting for a certain canal-boat, the owner\nand captain being friendly to our work, another young man joined us.\nThese we received at different points to avoid suspicion. Before we\nreached the third bridge we were overtaken by Levi Coffin with another\nyoung man, whom he had instructed implicitly to regard all the lessons\nI might give him. I gave them all a charge to say nothing of going\nfarther than Toledo, Ohio, and talk of no farther back than Cincinnati.\n\nWhile on our way George pointed at a wire, and told his wife it was a\ntelegraph-wire, at which she dodged back, and for a moment seemed as\nbadly frightened as though her master had been in sight. It was a lucky\nthing for us that no stranger happened to be in sight, as her fright\nwould have betrayed them. Even an assurance from George that the wires\ncould do no harm, could hardly satisfy her, until he appealed to me to\nconfirm his statement, that it was the operators at each end of the\nwires that gave information.\n\nThe day before we reached Toledo one of the drivers left, and the\nsteersman employed our boy William, with the consent of the captain. I\ntold George to tell William I wanted to see him at the expiration of\nthe time set for him to drive. He came into the cabin, while the other\npassengers were on deck, and told me all the hands seemed very clever,\nand the steersman told him he would find a good place for him to work\nin Toledo, and that he would see that he had good wages. He asked him\nvarious questions, that led him to disclose his starting point,\nVicksburg, Mississippi. As he was so very friendly he answered all his\nqueries, even to his master's name. This I had charged him not to give.\nAs George and the other colored man saw the steersman and another man\nemployed on the boat so very intimate, and careful to keep William with\nthem, they began to fear for their own safety. There came up a sudden\nshower during William's time to drive, and he got thoroughly drenched;\nand as he had no change of garments, the steersman and the other boys\nof the boat furnished him out of their own wardrobe. It had now become\ndifficult for me to secure an interview with William, on account of his\nclose friends, and I became as fearful of the telegraph wires as was\nMary, over whom we had a little sport.\n\nBut William began to fear all was not right, and regretted having told\nthis man of his condition, and made an errand on deck, as he saw me\nsitting alone. He told me all he had said to the steersman. I told him\nto appear very careless, and say nothing, but to appear as if he was\ngoing with the steersman, as he had suggested. As we should be in\nToledo in three hours, I would go into the city, and the women and\nGeorge would follow me to a place of safety. Then I would return for my\nshawl, that I should leave on the boat. By that time, the passengers\nwould all have left, and he and the other young man must remain about\nthe boat. Then I would watch the opportunity, and when I went out, I\nshould turn short corners, but give them time to keep me in sight.\nAccordingly, I returned for my shawl, but made no haste to leave until\nthose close friends entered a saloon; then was our time; I gave them\nthe wink and left for a place of safety.\n\nAfter I had put one and two in a place, my next work was to solicit\nmoney to pay our fare to Canada, on a boat that was to leave at 9 A. M.\nthe next day. Here were six fares to pay to Detroit, as Sarah had\nsufficient to pay her own. The friends in Cincinnati had paid their\nfare to Toledo. It was now nearly night, and I had but little time; but\nI succeeded by nine o'clock the next morning, leaving a colored man to\nconduct them to the boat; with hardly five minutes to spare I reached\nthe boat, with my living freight.\n\nOnce out in the lake we felt quite secure. Yet there was a possibility\nof a telegram being sent to William's master, and danger of being\novertaken by officers in Detroit. Knowing of their anxiety to see\nCanada, I waited until we were near enough to see carriages and persons\non the road on the other side. When I said to George's wife \"There is\nCanada.\" \"It ain't, is it?\" \"It is, certainly. It is where no\nslave-owner can claim his slave.\" She ran to her husband to tell the\ngood news. But neither he nor the balance of them believed her, and all\ncame running to me. \"That ain't Canada, is it?\" Being assured that the\nland of freedom was in full view, with tears of joy they gazed upon\ntheir \"House of Refuge,\" and within forty minutes we were there. And to\nsee them leap for joy was rich pay for all my care in their behalf.\nGeorge and Jake had both armed themselves with deadly weapons, in case\nof an attempt to capture them, resolving on liberty or death. I left\neach with fifty cents and returned to my own sweet home.\n\nI found the large building unfinished. As the first buildings were\ntemporary, they were unsuitable for students to occupy another Winter,\nwhich would be the eleventh Winter our school had been in successful\noperation. Brother Patchin, our principal, was called to another field\nas pastor and teacher, and would go if the new building was not ready\nfor use by the following academic year. While these probabilities were\nunder consideration, brother J. F. Dolbeare was taken from us, after a\nshort illness. As he was an important trustee, and an active Christian\nworker, his loss was severely felt. We had a few months previously met\nwith a similar loss in the death of another trustee, our valued friend\nand brother, Elijah Brownell, a minister of the Society of Friends.\nSurely dark clouds again overhung our favorite institution, in which\nmany of our students were taught in the school of Christ, before they\ncame to us, and many out of the hundreds who had enjoyed the privileges\nof our school, we had good reasons for believing, yielded their young\nhearts to the loving Savior's invitation while with us. With the\nundying interests of the youth so near my heart, it was a trial to have\nour school suspended a year; but what could I do? I must keep up the\nten per cent interest on three hundred dollars of my indebtedness, and\ncould not contract five hundred dollars more to finish the institution\nbuilding erected on the acre of ground I had given for that object. It\nwas enclosed, and a portion of the floors laid, and doors and windows\ncased. This had cost over one thousand dollars for a building thirty by\nfifty-six feet.\n\nAs the farm was still carried on by my married children, I concluded to\nreturn to Cincinnati and engage in nursing the sick during the cold\nseason, as the cough to which I was subject was returning. All things\nconsidered, the conclusion was reached to suspend Raisin Institute one\nyear at least. An Oberlin scholarship was presented me for my daughter\nLaura Jane, who decided to take a gentleman's collegiate course. Not\nonly my financial pressure seemed to direct toward that more southern\nfield, but the cause of those who were thirsting for liberty, and were\nalmost daily leaving boats or crossing the river, was also a strong\nincentive to occupy a post near the Southern end of the road whose\nNorthern terminus was in Queen Victoria's dominions.\n\nMany of my friends thought me presuming to venture so near those who\nhad threatened my life repeatedly, and in the hand-bills of the\nTennesseans (report said) there was offered $3,000 reward for my head.\nThomas K. Chester stated in a letter that he had sent them to a number\nof the Southern States, to let them know what sort of sisters they had\nin the North. But J. F. Dolbeare, on the night before his death, called\nme to his bedside, and, taking my hand in his, said, \"Sister Haviland,\nyou have passed through close and trying places in your work, and your\nanti-slavery mission is not yet finished. Your trials are not over.\nGreater dangers are for you to pass through--I see it. O, may the Lord\nprepare you for the work he has for you to accomplish! He has sustained\nyou thus far. He will grant you his protecting arm. I know it.\" I have\noften had occasion to remember the words I listened to in that solemn\nhour, during thirty years that have since passed.\n\nA slave-owner from New Orleans, with his wife, three children, and\ntheir nurse, Maria, were bound for Cincinnati. When at Louisville, he\nwas told if he was going to spend the Summer in Cincinnati he'd be sure\nto lose his servant-girl, \"as that city is cursed with free negroes and\nabolitionists.\" At this unpleasant information, Champlin and his wife\nconcluded to make their temporary home in Covington, instead of\nCincinnati, to the great disappointment of Maria, as she and her\nhusband had been over two years in saving all their little silver\npieces, until the amount was one hundred dollars, which was to be used\nin taking her to Canada.\n\nAs this \"Northern trip\" had been calculated two or three years before,\nand as they went to no place without their faithful nurse, the slave\ncouple also made their plans. Her husband told her, as she would have a\ngood opportunity to secure her freedom, he would manage to secrete\nhimself on some through boat, and meet her in Canada; and he could go\nwith less money than she could, and insisted upon her taking all they\nhad saved. But after Maria found they were going to hire rooms and\nboard in a hotel in Covington, she went to the trunk that contained her\nclothes and the children's, and to her great disappointment her hundred\ndollars, that she had so securely tied in a little rag and rolled in\nher garments, was taken out by her mistress, who never pretended to go\nto her trunk for any thing, having no care whatever of her children's\nwardrobe. But she must hide her feelings by putting on a cheerful face,\nthough she felt as though all her hopes of freedom, of which she had so\nfondly dreamed, were blasted forever.\n\nShe found her task, as usual, was to keep the wardrobe of her mistress\nand the children in order, and care for the children day and night. A\nfew days elapsed, and she asked her mistress if she would please give\nher money to purchase herself a pair of shoes, as she heard they were\ncheaper here than at home. She said she would either get her shoes or\ngive her the money in a few days; but neither shoes nor money came. Two\nand three weeks passed, and Maria ventured to repeat her request; but\nthe reply was, \"Your shoes are good enough for a while yet.\"\n\nWhile her master and mistress were over the river, she frequently took\nthe children to the river, to amuse them in looking at boats and in\npicking up pebbles on the bank, when her longing look was noticed by a\nwhite man, who ventured to ask her if she would like to go across the\nriver. She told him, if she did, she had no money to give to any one\nwho would take her. After learning that her master's residence was in\nNew Orleans, he told her, if she would never let any one know that he\nhad ever said or done any thing about helping her, let what would\nhappen, he would take her over without any thing, in the night,\nwhenever she could get away; but if it was ever known there it would\nruin him. She promised; and as no one was near, and the three children\nplaying at a little distance, he pointed her to a large root on the\nbank, under which she could hide, and there wait until she heard a low\nwhistle near the root, when she could come out and step into a skiff\nwithout saying a word, and he would muffle the oars so as not to be\nheard, and take her to a colored family he knew over the river, where\nshe would be safe until they would send her on to Canada.\n\n\"But how can I go on, when I's got no money?\"\n\n\"They know of a way to send such people as you without money. You'll\nget with those over there who will see you safe; never fear.\"\n\n\"I never can tell you,\" she said, in relating her story, \"how strange I\nfelt about sich good news as this, and wondered if it could be true. I\njus' trimbled like a popple leaf all the evenin'. Master and missus was\nover in the city to a lecture on Fernology, and didn't get back till\ntwelve o'clock. I kep' the chillen awake later'n common, so they'd\nsleep sounder. Then I tied my clothes up in a tight bundle, an' had my\nshoes an' hat whar I'd lay han's on 'em, an' put out the light. I was\nsnorin', when missus looked in an' said, 'All's asleep--all right;' an'\nI waited till the clock struck one, an' all still. I crep' sof'ly out\non the street, and down to the root, an' waited for a whistle. The\nclock struck two. O, how long! Will that man come? Chillen may cry, an'\nmissus fin' me gone. Had I better wait till it's three o'clock? May be\nhe can't come. He said, if any thing happen he couldn't come to-night,\nI mus' go back, an' try another night. An' 'bout as I began to think I\nbetter go back come the whistle. I stepped in, an' we went over; but\nthe clock struck three before we got half across, an' he was mighty\nfear'd he couldn't get back afore daybreak.\"\n\nNews reached us during the day that a woman crossed the river early,\nand was so near it as to be dangerous for a hiding-place; and it fell\nto my lot to see her in a safe place as soon as the darkness of night\nwould shield us from being detected by Champlin and his aids, who were\nalready seen at street corners. I took a black Quaker bonnet and a drab\nshawl and a plain dress-skirt in a market-basket, with which to\ndisguise our fugitive.\n\nI found her in a dark room, where I fixed her up for a walk; and she\ntold me of her loss of the hundred dollars, but I told her all would be\nwell without it. I instructed her to take my arm as we went, and take\ngood care to limp all the way, for we should pass plenty of\nKentuckians. Thickly veiled, we walked half a mile, turning short\ncorners to elude watchers, if any, from our starting-point. As we went\nup Central Avenue to Longworth, we passed through a crowd, one of whom\nsaid:\n\n\"I'm going to line my pockets to-night. Thar's five hundred dollars\nreward out.\"\n\nSaid another, in a low tone, \"When did she cross?\"\n\n\"Last night some time, they say.\"\n\nMy Quaker sister, limping at my side, was trembling, I sensibly felt,\nas she hung upon my arm, as we listened to these remarks from her\npursuers. I took her to a very intelligent colored family on Longworth\nStreet, who were well known to us as true friends.\n\nAlthough I had passed her pursuers without fear, yet when Levi Coffin\ninformed me that Ruffin, the greatest slave-hunter in the city, had\njust moved next door to Burgess, where I left Maria, my fears were\nalmost equal to Maria's. \"Laura, thou hast left thy fugitive with a\ngood family, but in a poor place,\" said our venerable friend. \"But wait\nuntil to-morrow evening, when thou hadst better give her another move,\nas I know they will use all possible care.\" The following evening Levi\nand friend Hughes were to be on Central Avenue near Longworth Street,\nand as I came out with my Quaker woman, they were to walk half a block\nahead and turn on Ninth Street to his house, and if sister Catherine's\nsign appeared on the balcony of the second story, we were to ascend the\noutside flight of steps, and take her up to the attic in the fourth\nstory.\n\nChamplin had doubled the reward, and was raving with rage over the loss\nof their nurse. He said he would have her if he had to \"set one foot in\nhell after her,\" cursing and swearing in a perfect foam; and said a\nthousand dollars should be doubled but what he would have her. As the\nstreets were too well lighted, to give her the appearance of a white\nperson through the veil, I called for a saucer of flour, with which I\nthoroughly powdered her face. Before her veil was adjusted she happened\nto look up and saw herself in the large mirror before her, and burst\ninto a laugh over her white face and Quaker bonnet. I gave her a shake\nas I placed my hands over her shoulders: \"Don't laugh loud, for your\nliberty's sake. Remember the next door neighbor would get his thousand\ndollars reward from Champlin, if he could know you are here.\" \"I won't\nlook at that glass ag'in, I looks so quare.\"\n\nI took her on the front walk, and following our previous plans, at the\ninvitation of the white cloth on the balustrade, we soon found\nourselves in the attic. She remained here two weeks, not daring to move\nin any direction, as the wealthy New Orleans planter's biped\nbloodhounds were seen and heard from in almost every direction through\nthe city.\n\nAs there was in this case an unusual excitement, the editor of the\nCincinnati _Commercial_ inserted a little note in his paper, of the\nescape of the New Orleans nurse from her owners, who were boarding at\nWhite Hall Hotel in Covington; and that the mistress had taken one\nhundred dollars from the nurse previous to their arrival at their\ndestination. The day following this notice Champlin came to the\n_Commercial_ office and demanded the authority the editor had for\ncharging his wife with stealing from their servant. For whether it was\nhe or any one else, it would prove a dear job to vilify his wife like\nthis, for he'd have their life or $3,000; and swore nothing short would\nsettle it. He told the editor he would give him till ten o'clock the\nnext morning, when he should come prepared for the settlement\n(referring to his pistols, which he knew how to use). At once Levi\nCoffin received a call from the editor for advice, as he was his\ninformant. During this interview, Catherine came into our room, saying,\n\"Laura, they are in a tangle with that New Orleans slave-holder, and\nthey want thee to help straighten it.\" Going in, I was introduced to\nthe editor, and main proprietor of the _Commercial_, and they related\nthe difficulty.\n\n\"Now,\" said Levi, \"this young man has invested in this firm all he is\nworth, and Champlin will probably ruin his business if he fails to give\nhis authority for stating Maria's loss of her hundred dollars; and as I\ngave him these facts, in case he gives my name as authority, he will\nthen come upon me, and make trouble, as Champlin seemed determined upon\nvengeance.\"\n\nAfter a little reflection over these statements and threats I told them\nI did not see but I came next, as I told Levi these facts, which I took\nfrom Maria and the family where she was first secreted. And as I had no\nproperty in Ohio, and the little I owned in Michigan I had arranged to\nkeep from slave-holders, I would stand in the gap and our young friend\nmight refer to me as authority, if compelled to give it, rather than\nlose his life, or property even.\n\nSaid Levi, \"This is liable to terminate in a serious affair. It would\nlay thee liable to imprisonment if he is so disposed, and thy children\nin Michigan would feel very sad over such an event.\"\n\nI replied that I did not fear of remaining long in prison, neither did\nI believe he was going to be permitted to put me there, but at all\nevents I was fully prepared to allow my name to be given. With this\nconclusion our young friend left us, saying that if he could manage\nthat exasperated man without naming me, he would do so. We were all\nanxiously waiting to see the result of the fearful meeting at the hour\nof ten the following day. Champlin was there at the hour, with the\nstern query, \"Are you ready, sir, to give me your authority, or abide\nthe consequences?\"\n\n\"I am, sir. The colored family where she first stopped informed us.\"\n\n\"Do you take a nigger's testimony?\"\n\n\"Certainly I do. They are respectable and honest, though poor.\"\n\nAfter pouring forth a volley of oaths, and saying he wouldn't stoop so\nlow as to notice what a nigger would say, for they were all a pack of\nliars, he left the office, to the great relief both of the editor and\nourselves. Very soon he came to us with the pleasing report, how those\npistols, so full of powder, flashed in the pan.\n\nBut the slave-hunters were still so numerous, it was thought best to\ndress her up for another walk, and I took her to a family near\nFourteenth Street, and wrote a letter in Maria's name to her master,\ndated it ahead, and from Windsor, Canada West, and sent it enclosed in\na letter to a friend at that place, with directions to mail it to the\nmaster at the date I had given. Maria informed her master Champlin that\nCanada was not the cold barren country he had always told her it was,\nfor they raised great fields of corn, and potatoes, peas and beans, and\neverything she saw in Kentucky; and that she had found the best of\nfriends ever since she left home, and signed her name.\n\nIn less than two weeks Kitty Darun's niece came in great haste to\ninform us that \"Champlin had got poor Maria, and Aunt Kitty is nearly\ncrying her eyes out over the sad news that a colored man brought over\nlast night.\"\n\n\"That is all a mistake.\"\n\n\"Oh, no, it's no mistake, for that colored man worked near White Hall\nyesterday, and he said the report was just flying.\"\n\nI hushed her loud words, and whispered, \"I can take you to Maria in ten\nminutes, I know just where she is.\"\n\n\"Are you _sure_, and may I go tell Aunt Kitty?\"\n\n\"Go and whisper it, for there are but few friends who know she is still\nin the city, because of the close search made for her, that is still\nkept up.\"\n\nThe next day she came to us with another story, \"That he didn't get\nMaria, but got a letter from her in Canada. And that was the current\nreport.\"\n\nI told her, \"I understood that too, and would tell her all within a few\nweeks.\"\n\nThe result of this letter was a withdrawal of all the hired hunters\nwithin twenty-four hours, and during three days' quiet two young men\ncame from a few miles distant across the river, who got the privilege\nof a holiday, and of spending it nearly ten miles farther from the\nriver than was their home. As they left the night before, they would\nhave until the next morning before being missed.\n\nAs Cazy (one of our vigilance committee) came before sunrise to inform\nus of the new arrival, Catharine Coffin came to my bed-room and gave me\na call: \"Come, Laura, here are more runaways; Cazy is here and they\nwant thee.\" In less than five minutes there were four of us to decide\non the plan of securing the newcomers and the one on our hands. \"What\nshall we do? Our funds are out, we haven't a dime in our treasury,\"\nsaid Cozy.\n\n\"We must get enough to take then; two young men and Maria out as far as\nthe Stubbs settlement to-night,\" I replied; \"for you see all is quiet\nnow over Maria, and by to-morrow the city will fill up again with\nslave-hunters.\"\n\n\"That is what I told Cazy before thou came in; but he says he has a job\non his hands he can not leave,\" said Levi.\n\n\"Where Is Hughes?\"\n\n\"I don't believe I could get him to leave his work to see to it; but\nmay be he'll go for you,\" wild Cazy.\n\n\"I'll try.\" And throwing on my shawl and bonnet, called on Hughes, and\ntold him he must go and take Maria and two young men who had just\narrived this morning.\n\n\"But what can we do without money?\"\n\n\"I'll get it to-day. What amount is wanting?\"\n\n\"It will take eight dollars to hire a close carriage and team to go\nthirty miles to-night, and I must be back to my work by eight o'clock\ntomorrow morning.\"\n\n\"I'll have that ready before night.\"\n\n\"Then I'll call at Uncle Levis's at noon, and see whether you are sure\nof success in getting the money; then I will call at the livery on my\nreturn to my work and engage the carriage and team, to be ready by\nseven and a half o'clock this evening.\"\n\nWhen he called at noon I had four dollars in money and a traveling suit\nfor Maria, and knew just where I could get the balance. Now for the\nplan of starting. I told him he must manage the two men and I would\nmanage for Maria. \"But there are two toll-gates that are closely\nwatched for colored people, and I want you to go with us past those\ngates, as two white persons in front would pass the load; not seeing\nany colored people, they would make no inquiries. As Catherine's health\nwas poor, and cholera was raging in the city, she was not willing I\nshould remain away over night, and Levi secured William Beckley to\nfollow us a little distance behind until we had passed those gates,\nwhen I was to return with him. The carriage, with our company, was to\nbe driven up Central Avenue as far as the orphan asylum, and halt for\nMaria and myself; and as he passed the street she was on, Hughes was to\ntake out his white pocket handkerchief and wipe his face, while William\nFuller, at whose house Maria was secreted, was to walk on the street at\nthe time appointed to watch for the signal; when discovered, as he\nturned toward the house, we were to step out on the street, and walk\nthe half block where our carriage was in waiting.\"\n\nBut in this we found it necessary to adopt my old rule of being\ncarelessly careful, as there were Kentuckians in their rented houses\neach side of William Fuller's, and they were overheard to say three\ndays before, that they believed they had \"niggers hid at Fuller's, for\nthe blinds in the second story hadn't been opened in two weeks.\" The\nweather being warm, and the rising of the full moon, and their next\ndoor neighbors sitting on their front porches, all combined to bring us\ninto full view. As we were watching for the moment to start Maria took\nup her bundle of clothes; but I told her the least appearance, aside\nfrom common callers, would create suspicion, and we must send them\nafter her. \"But they's all I got, an' I will never see 'em ag'in,\" said\nMaria, sorrowfully.\n\n\"But your liberty is of more value than a cart load of clothes.\"\n\n\"Oh, yes, I knows it; but I can't even change.\"\n\n\"Hand them to me,\" and they were opened and tightly rolled into the\nshape of a six months' baby in a trice; and, as I rolled it in a shawl,\nI said, \"I'll carry the baby myself.\" The watchful wife says, \"William\nis turning back, and I will walk to the corner with you.\" As we reached\nthe gate, the neighbors in full view, sister Fuller's little girl\ncalled, \"Mamma, I want to see the baby; I didn't know that woman had a\nbaby.\" The frightened mother tried to hush her in a smothered voice,\nthat I feared would betray her excitement. \"Let her go with us,\nmother,\" said I. \"But auntie hasn't time now to let little sis see the\nbaby; wait till next time we call, because we are late, and our folks\nwill be waiting for us.\" And as we leisurely walked along, sister\nFuller invited us to come another time to make a longer call.\n\nAfter turning the corner, our sister and little girl left us, and we\nquickened our pace to the carriage we saw in waiting. Friend Hughes\nstood by the hitching-post, but looked wild with excitement when he saw\nme turn to the carriage, as he knew there was no baby aboard; and as he\nhad hitched in a darker place than near the entrance, he did not\nrecognize us. But as I gave my baby a toss in the carriage, saying,\n\"This is part of our company; take care of my baby,\" he recognized my\nvoice. \"O, yes; this is one of your tricks.\" Soon we were seated, and\non our way. We passed the two fearful gates with a sharp look by each\nkeeper, and half a mile beyond I proposed to return; but friend Hughes\nsaid there was a short piece of woods ahead to pass through, then the\ncoast would be clear the balance of the way, and he would rather I\nwould go through the woods with them. Just before entering the grove we\nheard the loud talking, singing, and laughing of ten or a dozen men we\nwere going to meet.\n\nAs this boisterous company appeared before us, Hughes turned to the two\nmen behind us, and said, \"Are your pistols ready?\"\n\n\"Yes, sah;\" and each took from his own pocket a six-shooter.\n\n\"Boys, if those men attempt to take our horses by the bits, and I say,\n_Fire!_ will you do it?\"\n\n\"Yes, sah.\"\n\nSaid I, \"Hughes, be careful, be careful. Your excitement will betray us\nif you are not _very careful_.\"\n\n\"We don't know what rabble we are going to meet, and I propose to be\nready fur 'em.\"\n\n\"There is nothing known of this company, and I know we are safe.\"\n\n\"I don't know it; and if they make the first move to stop us, be ready,\nboys.\"\n\n\"All ready.\"\n\nThere were two six-shooters behind me, and one in the hand of Hughes,\nthat I feared much more than all the slave-holders in Kentucky.\n\nBut we were soon relieved by the remark of one, as we were passing, \"It\nwas well we stopped that bent from falling, or't would have killed\nSmith as dead as a hammer.\" We found by this that they had been to the\nraising of a building, and a number of them were more than half drunk.\n\nAfter going a mile or two farther, and our excitement was over, I took\nleave of our company, with a charge to keep quiet and all would be\nwell, and returned to Levi Coffin's by twelve o'clock. The following\nmorning we received a good report from our conductor, Hughes, of the\nsafe delivery of this valuable freight in the Quaker settlement depot,\nwhere they were forwarded to Canada.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\nFUGITIVE SLAVES ASSISTED.\n\n\nThe exciting intelligence reached us that Clara and her three little\nones were about to be captured by slave-holders in the city, on Pearl\nStreet. I called on her at once, and found the house was surrounded the\nnight before by strangers, who were followed to a hotel, and on the\nrecord the name of her master's son was found. Poor woman! She had\npassed through great suffering in making her escape with her two\nchildren; a third was born in Cincinnati--yet it too must share the\nanticipated fate of its mother. She had always been a house-servant,\nbut found the death of her master was about to make great changes, he\nbeing deeply in debt. By the aid of a chambermaid she was secreted on a\nboat, and kept the two children drugged with opiates until she feared\nthey would never come to life. But after her arrival, under the care of\na skillful physician, they survived. She had found good friends among\nher own people and Church two years. I found her weeping, with the two\nyoungest in her arms, the oldest sitting on a stool at her feet. With\nfast-falling tears she kissed her babes. \"O ma's precious darlings, how\ncan I spare you!\" I told her if her master did not come for her until\nit was dark enough to conceal her, arrangements were made to come for\nher with a close carriage, to take them out of the city to a place of\nsafety.\n\n\"I reckon you can't save us,\" she sobbed.\n\nI told her we would pray the Lord, who knew all her deep sorrow, to\nopen the way for us.\n\n\"Yes, I cried mightily to him to help me out o' that dark land back\nyonder, and it 'peared like he did bring me out; but if I had stuck\ncloser to him I reckon he'd kep' me from this hard trial;\" and fresh\ntears freely flowed.\n\nWith my hands on her shoulders, my tears mingled with hers. In broken\nsentences, she referred to the separation of her husband when he was\nsold and taken down the river.\n\nI left her, with a heavy heart, yet strong hope that her young master\n(as she called him) would be defeated.\n\nAt twilight, I called to assist in getting them ready to jump into the\ncarriage that our friend William Fuller would drive to the door within\nfifteen minutes; and being ready, we were in the carriage turning the\nfirst corner within a minute, and left them in charge of an underground\nrailway agent, who took them on his train as soon as their clothing and\npocket-money were forwarded to them, to the great relief of many\nanxious hearts.\n\nA little past nine o'clock, her master and his posse surrounded the\nhouse, and lay in wait until the stillness of the midnight hour was\nthought most favorable to pounce upon their prey and hurry them to the\nriver, where they had a boat in waiting for them. Then their force was\nincreased, and an entrance demanded. The owner of the house (a colored\nman) refused admittance without legal authority, although threats of\nbreaking down the door or windows were made; but they were resisted\nwith returning threats of shooting the first man that dared to enter\nwithout proper authority. As they were expecting an attack, the women\nhad left their home for the night. The watch was kept around the house\nuntil morning approached, when the marshal, with his official papers,\nwas brought to claim Clara and three children. But to their great\ndisappointment, in searching the house, no Clara or children were\nthere. In great rage her master left, swearing vengeance upon him who\nhad kept them in suspense all night when he had spirited them away, for\nhe knew he had harbored his property in his house; but all the reply he\nreceived was, \"Prove it, if you wish.\" They got no track of them until\nthey heard from them in Canada.\n\nA fugitive by the name of Jack secreted himself on a large steamer from\nthe lower Mississippi, and left it on landing in Cincinnati. Being so\nfar from his old home, he hired himself as a barber, in which business\nhe was very successful about two years, when his master learned of his\nwhereabouts. He made the acquaintance of a free colored man by the name\nof Robert Russel, who was an idle, loafish mulatto, sometimes working\nat little jobs in Cincinnati, and also in Covington. In the latter\nplace he fell in with the slave-holder, who was watching for an\nopportunity to secure the aid of some one who would induce Jack to come\nto the river, where he would hurry him onto the ferry, and get him on\nthe Kentucky side, when he could easily return him to the far South. As\nhe found Robert Russel a man of no principle, he gave him ten dollars\nif he would decoy Jack to the wharf of Walnut Street landing about\nnoon, when men were generally at dinner. He succeeded, when the master\nwith his Kentucky friends slipped hand-cuffs on poor Jack, and took him\non the ferry for a thief. The more Jack protested, denying the charge,\nthe louder they cried thief! thief! Some of his colored friends\nconsulted their favorite lawyer, John Jolliffe, about arresting Jack's\nmaster for kidnapping, as he had taken him illegally, but they were\ntold they could do nothing with him in Kentucky. They were compelled to\nleave their friend to his fate.\n\nBut the Judas who betrayed Jack ought to be brought to justice; but how\ncould they do it? As I was at that time teaching a school of colored\ngirls, in the basement of Zion Baptist Church, a number of colored men\ncame to consult with me. I told them as Robert Russel was a renegade he\nwas as liable to serve one side of the river as the other, and would as\nreadily bring a slave to the Ohio side for ten dollars, as to decoy him\nback into the hands of his master for that money. They said Robert did\nnot dare come into Cincinnati, fearing that justice would be dealt out\nin tar and feathers by the colored people. They learned soon after he\ncame to the city that he ran away from Ripley to avoid being arrested\nfor stealing. I advised them not to take the law of tar and feathers,\nas they had indicated, in their own hands; but to spoil the petting he\nwas getting from the slave-holders across the river, by warning them\nagainst Robert Russel, for he would as readily play the rogue one side\nas the other; and this they could do in a little printed card that\nmight be dropped on the sidewalk through a few streets in Covington,\nand they would run him out of their town in a hurry. This idea pleased\nthem, and they wished me to draft the card, and they would print and\ncirculate it. I told them I would take my noon recess to prepare it,\nand at 4 o'clock my school would be out, and they might come for it. I\ngave it as follows:\n\n       Slave-Holders of Kentucky!\n     BEWARE OF THE ROGUE, ROBERT RUSSEL!\n\n  Who absconded from Ripley, Ohio, to evade the strong arm of the law\n  he richly deserved for misdemeanors in that town. This man is a\n  light mulatto, and betrayed one of his race for ten dollars, in\n  Cincinnati, bringing him into life-long trouble. He will as readily\n  take ten dollars from any of your slaves to bring them to\n  Cincinnati, and again take ten dollars to return them to you, as he\n  has no higher purpose to serve than paltry self. A LOVER OF RIGHT.\n\nThis was printed on a placard of ten by twelve inches. They procured\ntwo hundred for distribution, but found it more difficult to get a\ndistributor than they anticipated. I told one of them to go to Levi\nCoffin's and inform him and his wife where I was going after my school\nwas dismissed, and that I would distribute them through Covington, but\nto let no one else know of it, except their committee who secured the\nprinting, as it would produce increased excitement. I went a mile from\nthe river before commencing my work, and left one or two in every yard,\nwhen no eye seemed directed toward me, I dropped them by the street\nside until I reached the ferry that returned me to my anxious friends\nin Cincinnati, just as the sun dropped behind the Western hills.\n\nThe following day report gave an account of the evening's excitement in\nCovington. A company of slave-holders met to consult over this placard,\nand the conclusion was reached to give Bob Russel until nine o'clock\nthe following morning to leave the State or take the consequences. Two\nslaves had left them within a couple of months, and they charged him\nwith taking them over the river. Some of the more excitable were for\nhauling him out of bed at the close of their meeting (ten o'clock), and\ndealing summary vengeance for their recent losses, but as he pledged\nhimself to leave their State the next morning never to return, they\nleft him to his own uncomfortable reflections.\n\nA party consisting of four, from New Orleans, came to Cincinnati to\nspend the Summer, and made their home at a hotel. It was soon\nascertained by the colored people that their little nurse girl of about\nnine years of age, was a slave, and as the master and mistress had\nbrought her there, she was by the laws of Ohio free. They took the\nopportunity to coax her away and place her among their white friends,\nwho they knew would take good care of her. Very soon there was great\ninquiry for Lavina. They said she was just a little pet they brought\nwith them to play with and mind the baby, and they knew she was stolen\nfrom them against her will; but that if they could get sight at her,\nshe would run to them, unless she was forcibly held back by some mean\nperson. Diligent search was made among the colored people whom they\nsuspected, but no clew could be found of her whereabouts. They were\nthen advised to visit some prominent abolitionists, where they were\nsatisfied she had been taken. So close to Elizabeth Coleman's were they\nwatching, that she felt unsafe, fearing they might come in and find her\nalone with her little pet fugitive, so she took her to Samuel Reynold's\nby night.\n\nThe search continued. Samuel met the master on the street in front of\nhis house, but had left orders to dress Lavina in his little boy's\nsuit; and holding the master in conversation awhile, he said he would\ncall for Jim, to bring them a glass and pitcher of water, having\nalready told his wife to give Jim a few necessary instructions hew to\nappear very smart and active. As she came out to give them drink,\nSamuel gave the master and his two friends a few lessons in Ohio law,\ninforming him that all slaves brought into the State by their owners\nwere _free_. The master contended that it would be very cruel to keep\nLavina from her mother (who belonged to him), and he knew if he could\nbe allowed to see her it would be sufficient to convince them of her\nattachment to him, and promised to leave the child to her own choice.\n\"But,\" said Samuel, \"Lavina is on our underground railroad.\" This was\nas new to the New Orleans slave-holder as were the Ohio laws he had\nbeen explaining. After discussing the right and wrong of his claim,\nSamuel called to his wife to send Jim with a pitcher of water; and out\ncame the little fellow. \"Pour a glass of water for this gentleman,\nJim;\" and their heated discussion continued. The master took the glass\nfrom Jim, who looked him full in the face, with one hand in his pocket,\nwhile Samuel was serving the other two gentlemen with a glass of water.\nThe women in the house were filled with fear, as they deemed Samuel\nrather imprudent. But Jim returned with pitcher and glass, and the\nmaster and his friends went back to the hotel none the wiser, either of\nLavina's whereabouts or of the operation of this new kind of railroad.\nLavina was well cared for, and her master and mistress returned to New\nOrleans with a new experience, _minus_ a nurse girl.\n\nAnother fugitive, by the name of Zack, came across the river from\nVirginia into Ohio. He had lain in the woods by day, and traveled by\nthe North Star at night, when it was clear, but in rainy or cloudy\nweather he found he was as liable to go South as North. There had been\nmuch rain to impede his progress, and he suffered much from hunger. He\nhad advanced only a few miles from the river, when he found a family of\ntrue friends, who replenished his clothing, and was preparing food for\nhis journey, when his master, with eight other men, found out where he\nwas, and came with officers to search the house and take their prey.\nThey came in the night and demanded entrance. \"Wife, what shall we do?\nThere are men under every window.\"\n\n\"Let them search the two lower rooms first, and while you go with them\nyou tell Zack to slip into my room while you are with them, and I'll\nsee to him.\"\n\n\"But I tell you he can't be got out of this house without being caught.\"\n\n\"Go on; I know that.\" And he left her and gave the frightened man his\norders. But before he reached her room she rolled up the feather-bed\nand drew the straw mattress to the front side of the bedstead, and told\nZack to jump in. Her oder obeyed, she threw back the feather-bed, and\nbefore the master and officer entered her room she was occupying the\nfront side of the bed. The clothes-press, wardrobe, and under the bed\nwere all closely scrutinized. The husband, pale with excitement, was\nexpecting, in every place they searched, that poor Zack would be found.\nBut they all left satisfied that he was not in that house, though so\nvery sure they had found the right place. The noble woman said he shook\nwith fear, so as to make the bed tremble during the search, knowing but\ntoo well his sad fate if he should again fall into the hands of his\nmaster. Every necessary measure was taken to hasten his progress to\nCanada.\n\nIn December, 1852, Calvin Fairbanks, who had served a term of three\nyears in the Kentucky penitentiary for aiding slaves to escape, called\nat Levi Coffin's and informed me of a letter he had received, giving\ninformation that an interesting slave woman in Louisville, Kentucky,\ncould cross the river, if a friend would meet her at Jeffersonville,\nIndiana, and take her to a place of safety; and he proposed to be the\nconductor. I advised him, by all means, not to go so near Kentucky, as\nhe was so well known through that State. He said he expected we would\noppose him. I advised him to consult with Dr. Brisbane, as Levi was\nabsent. But he chose to keep the matter quiet, and went on his\ndangerous expedition. I was called away to College Hill as nurse, and\nin three weeks, when I returned to Levi's, he called me into the store,\nsaying, \"We have a letter for thee to read; somebody is in trouble, and\nSamuel Lewis, Dr. Brisbane and myself have been trying to find out who\nit is, but can make out nothing by the letter. The signature is of\nstars, that he says is the number of letters in the name, but we can\nmake nothing of it;\" and he handed me the letter, dated from Louisville\njail.\n\nAs soon as I counted the six stars in the first name, I said, \"Levi, it\nis Calvin Fairbanks! Read out the last line of stars, and we'll find\nFairbanks.\"\n\nAt this point Dr. Brisbane entered the store.\n\n\"Doctor,\" said Levi, \"Laura has found our riddle; she says it is Calvin\nFairbanks.\"\n\nBoth were astonished, not knowing he was down the river. I told them of\nhis call in Levi's absence, and of his errand.\n\n\"Poor man, how he will suffer, for they will soon find him out, and\nthey are so very bitter against him, I fear he will die in their\npenitentiary, for they will have no mercy on him,\" said the doctor.\n\n\"He sends us an appeal for help, but I see no way we can render him\nassistance,\" responded Levi.\n\nA few weeks later a colored man, who had been mistaken for a slave, was\nreleased from that jail. He came to us telling of the suffering the\nprisoners endured, having no bed but a pile of filthy straw in their\ncells; and that Calvin requested him to see his friends, and tell us he\nmust perish unless a quilt and flannel underclothing were furnished\nhim; and he also needed a little pocket money. No one dared to take\nthese articles to him, for only two weeks previously a man by the name\nof Conklin had brought the wife and four children of an escaped slave\ninto Indiana, and was captured in the night. All were taken to the\nriver, and the poor woman and her children returned to their owner,\nwithout her meeting the husband and father, who had sent for them.\nConklin was bound with ropes and thrown into the river, where he was\nfound a few days after. Four weeks before Williams, from Massachusetts,\nfollowed two little mulatto girls who were stolen from their free-born\nparents by a peddler, and found them near Baltimore, Maryland. As soon\nas his errand was made known a baud of ruffians lynched him.\n\nThese two cases of murder, without the semblance of law, had produced\nmuch excitement in the North, and now the Fairbanks case was increasing\nthe exasperation of the South. But here was a suffering brother in\nprison. A few days of earnest prayer determined me to go to Louisville\njail with a trunk of bed clothes and under flannels. I looked for\nstrong opposition from my friends, but to my surprise when I proposed\nthe plan to my friends Levi and Catherine Coffin, they favored my\nproject. Catherine did her full share in furnishing a trunk, a thick\ncomfortable and pillow; others soon brought a change of flannels; and\nas Levi met friends and made known my project of going to Louisville,\nthe mites were brought to the amount of fourteen dollars for Calvin,\nand enough to bear my expenses. Levi saw Captain Barker, who possessed\nan interest in the line of packets running to Louisville, and he\noffered half fare, and promised to send for me in time for the Ben\nFranklin, No. 2, to leave for Louisville the next day at 2 P. M.\n\nDr. Brisbane, on returning from an absence of a few days, told Levi not\nto allow so rash a move, and said that I must not go to Louisville in\nthis excitement, for it was dangerous in the extreme; and he referred\nto Conklin's fate, that was just as likely to be mine. This so\ndiscouraged Levi, that he said, \"It may be we have been too fast in\ngiving thee words of encouragement.\" My reply was, \"I find no\ngeographical lines drawn by our Savior in visiting the sick and in\nprison.\"\n\nHere was a suffering brother, who had fallen among thieves, and I felt\nit my duty to go to his relief. There seemed also a clear answer to\nprayer that I should be protected; and if time would allow me to call\non Dr. Brisbane before I left for the boat, I would do so, as I desired\nto see him.\n\n\"If thou art going, I advise thee not to call on the doctor, as I know\nhow he feels about thy going, and all thy reasons will not satisfy him\nin the least.\"\n\nI told him if the doctor or any one else would go, I should feel easy\nto give it up, but otherwise I could not.\n\nDuring this conversation Melancthon Henry came in, as he said, \"with\nhis mite\" of three silver dollars for brother Fairbanks. He said, \"You\nare going into the lion's den, and my prayer is that you may be as wise\nas a serpent and harmless as a dove. I know the venom of the serpent is\nthere in power, but God will give his children the wisdom without the\npoison.\" Melancthon was a son of Patrick Henry, who had emancipated him\nwith his slave mother. He was a member of the Wesleyan Methodist\nChurch, to which I was at that time attached.\n\nSoon after Captain Barker sent for me, and told me to refer Colonel\nBuckner to him in presenting my note of introduction, as he was\nfavorably acquainted with the colonel and he should mention me as one\nof his friends.\n\nArrived at Louisville about day-dawn, I took a hack, and ordered the\nhackman to place the trunk on the porch of the front entrance of the\njailor's residence. As the colonel's wife answered the door-bell, I\ninquired for Colonel Buckner. She stepped back to call him, when in an\nundertone I heard, \"Who is it?\" \"I don't know; she came in the hack and\nis genteelly dressed, and I think came from the boat.\"\n\nHe \"genteelly\" met me, took Captain Barker's letter of introduction,\nand then introduced me to his wife and daughter, and to his wife's\nsister from Boston, who was there on a visit with her daughter, making\nquite a lively social circle. My errand was immediately made known, and\nthe colonel excused himself for overhauling the trunk to take its\ncontents to Calvin at once, as it was in the line of his duty as keeper\nof the prison to examine every thing brought in for prisoners; not that\nhe expected to find anything improper for Fairbanks to receive. I told\nhim I designed returning to Cincinnati on the same boat I came on, and\nit was going out at 4 P. M.\n\n\"Why go so soon?\" he asked.\n\nI replied, \"My errand here is accomplished, when I see that these\nthings are delivered to Calvin Fairbanks; and as I have a little pocket\nchange, sent by his friends in Cincinnati, I would like to see Calvin,\nas I shall write his mother after my return.\"\n\n\"I will see if the sheriff thinks it best. There was a great excitement\nin the city when Fairbanks was arrested and brought here, and Shotwell,\nthe injured man who lost his servant Tamor and her child, is very much\nenraged, and being a man of wealth and influence here, I dare not take\nyou in to see Fairbanks on my own responsibility; but I'll see the\nsheriff, and if he says you can see him it is all right.\"\n\nWith a little note from me he took the trunk of things to Calvin, and\nbrought back a receipt. As he handed it to me he said, \"I suppose you\nwill recognize his handwriting, so you'll know it's from him?\"\n\nI replied that I had seen a note of his writing, but was not familiarly\nacquainted with it, but was perfectly satisfied with the receipt.\n\nHe said he had been to see the sheriff, but he was absent, and would\nnot return for two or three days, \"and I think you had better wait,\" he\ncontinued, \"and see him, as you can remain with us; it shall not cost\nyou a cent.\"\n\nI told him my friends in Cincinnati would be at the wharf to meet me\nthe following morning; and as I had nothing further to accomplish,\nbeing satisfied that the things and money had been received by Calvin\nFairbanks, I felt free to return. But he urged still harder.\n\n\"It will be too bad for you to return without seeing him, as you are\nthe only friend that has called to see him since he has been here; and\nI know he wants to see you, for he asked if you were not coming in to\nsee him, and I told him I was waiting to see the sheriff; and I think\nyou had better wait till the boat makes another trip, as your stay here\nis as free as air, and we would like you to stop over; then you can see\nthe sheriff, and I reckon he will not object to your going in to see\nFairbanks, and yet I dare not take you in without his approval.\"\n\nI at length consented. They were all very polite, and I rested as\nsweetly that night as if in my own room at Levi Coffin's, or in my own\nMichigan home. The next day the colonel was very free to talk of the\nfalse ideas of Northern people about slavery; spoke of Elizabeth\nMargaret Chandler's work on slavery, that I took from their center\ntable; said his wife's Boston friends sent it her, but \"it was nothing\nbut a pack of lies.\"\n\nI told him that she lived and died neighbor to me, and I esteemed her\nas a noble woman.\n\n\"But she never lived in the South, and had no right to judge of their\ncondition without the knowledge of it.\"\n\nI was introduced to a young man who he said had been suffering a few\ndays' imprisonment under false charges, but on the examination, had\nthat day, was found not guilty. As the family withdrew from the parlor,\nthis young man seemed very anxious to deliver a secret message from\nFairbanks to me; he said he had made a confidant of him, and told him\nto request me to see to forwarding Tamor's trunk of valuable clothing\nto a place of safety. He then told me the mark on the trunk, and the\nplace in Louisville where it was waiting to be forwarded. I said that I\nhad told the colonel I had no idea of Tamor's whereabouts, as I had\nsupposed she was taken with Fairbanks until informed to the contrary;\nand that I had no business here whatever, aside from bringing a few\narticles for his present relief.\n\nAfter being absent awhile, he returned with a note purporting to be\nfrom Calvin, inquiring whether I had made the acquaintance of persons\ntherein named. I told the bearer I had not, and if he saw Calvin he\ncould tell him so. He urged me to send Fairbanks a note, as the colonel\nor any one else should know nothing of it; but I refused, becoming\nsatisfied that he was more of a dispatch-bearer for the colonel than\nfor Calvin Fairbanks. I learned afterwards that this was true, and that\nhe was released for the purpose of getting hold of additional evidence\nwith which to convict him, and perhaps convict myself also.\n\nIn the evening a gentleman of their city made a call on the family, and\nto him I was introduced. He spent an hour or two in conversation with\nmyself and the others. The jailer, Colonel Buckner, told me just before\nI left that their city papers--Louisville _Courier_ and Louisville\n_Commercial_--inserted a notice to the effect that \"Delia Webster, from\nCincinnati, is here, and is quartered for a few days in the city.\" This\nlittle notice created much excitement; and as the gentleman alluded to\nknew Delia Webster personally, the colonel brought him in to make my\nacquaintance and report accordingly. As he passed out of the parlor, he\ntold the colonel he might rest assured that lady was not Delia Webster,\nand they had nothing to fear from this Cincinnati lady, and he should\nset the editors right. All this excitement was carefully kept from me,\nas they wished to keep me as long as they possibly could, hoping to\nglean some additional evidence against Fairbanks, although the jailer\ntold me they had sufficient evidence to convict Fairbanks for a term of\ntwenty-five or thirty years at least, as this was the second offense,\nand he had no doubt but that he had been guilty of many others. The\npapers next day came out with a correction, \"that it was not Delia\nWebster, but Mrs. Haviland, from Cincinnati; and, as abolitionists\ngenerally went in pairs, she had better keep a lookout, or she, too,\nwould find an apartment in Colonel Buckner's castle.\"\n\nDelia Webster was arrested near the time of Calvin Fairbanks's first\narrest, and for the same offense, and sentenced to the same\npenitentiary, but in six weeks was pardoned.\n\nThe colonel was disposed to spend much time in discussing the merits,\nor rather demerits, of abolition principles, which seemed to be a new\ntheme for this Methodist class-leader and jailor. He said:\n\n\"I want to convince you that you abolitioners are all wrong, for you go\nagainst colonization, and you can't deny it; and if there was ever a\nheaven-born institution it is colonization.\"\n\n\"Do you claim that God has conferred the prerogative to a man or set of\nmen to draw a line, and say to you or me. 'You shall go the other side\nof that line, never to return?'\".\n\n\"O no, that is a different thing. We belong to a different race.\"\n\n\"Whatever privilege you claim for yourself or I claim for myself, I\nclaim for every other human being in the universe, of whatever nation\nor color. If the colored people choose to go to Africa. I have no word\nto say against their removal; it is their right and their privilege to\ngo. And if they wish to go to any other part of our world they have the\nsame right with me to go.\"\n\n\"O no, not to Canada; for you have no idea of the trouble it makes us.\nWe expend thousands of dollars in preventing our slaves from going\nthere.\"\n\n\"That is the defect in your policy. It is the existence of your system\nof slavery that makes you all this trouble.\" \"As I told you of Miss\nChandler, so it is with you, because you never lived in a slave State,\nand know nothing of their contented and happy condition. They have no\ncare; if they are sick the doctor is sent for, and they are as tenderly\ncared for as our own children, and their doctor's bills are paid. I\nknow if you would live here a few months you'd see these things very\ndifferently. You would see our slaves marching out to their work,\nsinging their songs and hymns as merrily as if they'd never had a\ntroubled thought in their heads. Here's my wife, born and raised in\nMassachusetts, and now she thinks as much of our institution of slavery\nas any of us who are raised here.\"\n\n\"If your slaves are so happy and contented, why do they make you so\nmuch trouble in their effort to reach Canada?\"\n\n\"O, there's free niggers enough to be stirring up the devil in their\nheads; for their notions are not fit to mingle with our servants. And\nthere's the good the colonization of these free negroes is doing. I\nknow of one man that manumitted two of his slaves on purpose to have\nthem go to Africa as missionaries; and there is the design of\nProvidence in bringing those heathen negroes here to learn the Gospel\nplan by Christ, to save the dark and benighted heathen of their own\ncountry. We have reports from the two missionaries that I told you were\nset free for that object, and their master sent them off to school a\nyear or more to fit them for their work.\"\n\n\"But why not give them all an opportunity of educacation, to enable\nthem to read the Bible and books and papers. That would improve the\nrace at home; and instead of sending them off, as you say, they would\nbe preachers here among their people.\"\n\n\"I tell you that wouldn't amount to any thing, as there are but few\nthat can learn any thing but work, and that they are made for. Their\nthick skulls show that they can't learn books; and if you knew as much\nabout them as I do you'd see it too, but you are such an abolitioner\nyou won't see it.\"\n\nI told him I had seen colored people in the North who were well\neducated and intelligent.\n\n\"O yes, there are a few who can learn, but I speak of the race. They\nare different from us, you know. Not only their skin is black and hair\ncurled and noses flat, but they stink so.\"\n\n\"But here is your house-servant, Mary, preparing your meals, setting in\norder your parlor and private rooms, and waiting on the persons of your\nwife and daughter--and her hair is as short and skin as black and nose\nas flat as any you'll find; and yet this disagreeable smell only\ntroubles you in connection with the principle of freedom and liberty.\"\n\n\"You are such an abolitioner there's no doing any thing with you,\" he\nrejoined, and left the room.\n\nHe soon returned, and said:\n\n\"There's another thing I want to talk with you about, and that is\namalgamation. If you carry out your principles, your children would\nintermarry with negroes; and how would you feel to see your daughter\nmarry a great black buck nigger?\"\n\n\"That is the least of my troubles in this lower world,\" said I. \"But as\nfar as amalgamation is concerned, you have twenty cases of amalgamation\nin the South to one in the North. I say this fearless of contradiction;\nit is a fruitful product of slavery. There are hundreds of slaves held\nas property by their own fathers. You'll find it wherever slavery\nexists. You find it here in your own city, Louisville.\"\n\nGiving a shrug of his shoulders, he replied, \"I will acknowledge this\nis a sorrowful fact that can not be denied.\"\n\nThis ended his talk on that subject.\n\nAfter supper we were all enjoying a social chat before a blazing grate\nin the dining-room, and I was sitting near the kitchen door, that was\najar, where were their slaves in hearing. In their presence I had\navoided answering some of his questions, but now a question was put\nwithin their hearing, which seemed to demand a square reply, and I gave\nit.\n\n\"I would like to know, Mrs. Haviland, where you abolitioners get your\nprinciples of equal rights. I'd like to know where you find them.\"\n\n\"We find them between the lids of the Bible. God created man in his own\nimage--in his own likeness. From a single pair sprang all the\ninhabitants of the whole earth. God created of one blood all the\nnations that dwell upon the whole earth; and when the Savior left his\nabode with the Father, to dwell a season upon our earthly ball, to\nsuffer and die the ignominious death of the cross, he shed his precious\nblood for the whole human family, irrespective of nation or color. We\nbelieve all are alike objects of redeeming love. We believe our\nHeavenly Father gave the power of choice to beings he created for his\nown glory; and this power to choose or refuse good or evil is a truth\nco-existent with man's creation. This, at least, is my firm conviction.\"\n\nNo reply was made, but, at his suggestion, we repaired to the parlor,\nwhere other conversation was introduced, but no reference made to Bible\narguments.\n\nDuring the time of waiting to see the sheriff the jailer's wife\nfrequently spent an hour or two in social conversation. She said they\nnever bought or sold a slave but at the earnest solicitation of the\nslave.\n\n\"Our black Mary was one of the most pitiable objects you ever saw. She\nwas treated shamefully, and was put here in jail, where she lay three\nmonths, and was so sick and thin there wouldn't any body buy her. I\nfelt so sorry for her I used to take her something she could eat, and I\nhad her clothes changed and washed, or I reckon she would have died.\nShe begged me to buy her, and I told Mr. Buckner that if she was\ntreated half decent I believed she would get well. So I bought her and\npaid only four hundred dollars; and now you see she looks hale and\nhearty, and I wouldn't take double that for her. But there is poor\nblack Sally, just four weeks ago today she was sold to go down the\nriver in a gang, and I never saw any poor thing so near crazy as she\nwas. She was sold away from her seven children. As I heard her screams\nI threw my bonnet and shawl on and followed her to the river, and she\nthrew herself down on her face and poured out her whole soul to God to\nrelieve her great distress, and save her poor children. Oh how she\ncried and prayed. I tell you no heart, not made of stone, could witness\nthat scene and not melt. Many shed tears over poor Sally's prayer. A\nman standing by went to the trader and bought her, and went and told\nher that he lived only eight miles away, and had bought her, and she\nshould come and see her children occasionally. She thanked him as he\nhelped her to stand up, for she seemed weak. But in just two weeks from\nthat day she died, and the doctors examined her, and said she died of a\nbroken heart. They said there was no disease about her, but that she\nseemed to sink from that day, growing weaker and weaker until she died.\nThat was just two weeks ago to-day.\"\n\nHer eyes frequently filled with tears as she related this sad incident,\nand yet she could cheerfully say, \"Oh, Mrs. Haviland, go with me into\nthe kitchen to see my nigger baby.\" As we entered the kitchen there\nstood the mother by her fat, laughing baby, bolstered up in his rude\ncradle of rough boards. \"There, isn't that a fine boy? he's worth one\nhundred dollars. I could get that to-day for him, and he's only eight\nmonths old; isn't be bright?\"\n\n\"He is certainly a bright little fellow.\"\n\nAs I looked at the mother I saw the downcast look, and noticed the sigh\nthat escaped a heavy heart, as she listened to the claim and price set\nupon her little darling. It's mother, Mary, was ebony black, her child\nwas a light mulatto, which was in keeping with the story of abuse to\nwhich she was compelled to submit, or else lay in jail.\n\nDuring the afternoon of Friday a Mr. Adams, from South Carolina, came\nto recognize and take his slave Jack. Said the colonel: \"He was decoyed\nby an abolitioner, and now you can see what your principles lead to.\nThere's Jack in the yard\" (pointing toward the man). \"His master has\njust been in jail with me and talked with Jack, and I let him out, and\nhe's going around town with him to see if he can get his eye on the\nrogue that enticed him away. You see he's a great, stout, smart-looking\nfellow, and the rascal got sight at him, and saw him alone, and asked\nhim if he wouldn't like to be free, and be his own master. He said he\nwould. 'Then meet me at eleven o'clock by that big tree near the road\nyonder, and I'll take you with me to Canada, where you'll be a free\nman.' Jack met him at the place appointed, and they vent on till\ndaylight, then hid till night, and traveled on. 'Now,' said this\nabolitioner if you will let me sell you in this little town ahead, I'll\nbe around here till near night, then I'll go on to the next tavern (or\nI'll tell them so), but I'll stop in a little wood this side, and wait\nfor you till eleven or twelve o'clock, and you can meet me, and I'll\ngive you half I get for you, then well travel all night again, when\nwe'll be out of reach of their hunting for you. Then we can travel by\nday-time, as you can call me master, and I'll call you my\nbody-servant.' Jack was now fairly in his hands, and did as he\ndirected. As he had divided the money with Jack he had confidence in\nthis mean fellow, and thought he would take him on to Canada. He met\nhim according to the plan, and, after traveling all night again,\nanother proposition was made to sell him again, and he would again\ndivide and give him half, which now amounted to a large sum for Jack.\nBut this was not the end of sales; for he played the same game over and\newer, until they reached this city, when Jack was caught and put in\njail. After he'd been here three days he told me all about it, and I\ntook the money and wrote to Mr. Adams to come and get him. By the time\nthat abolitioner got here he had sold Jack seven times, and divided\nwith him every time. So, you see, that is just the fruit of your\nprinciples.\"\n\nI patiently waited until he finished his story, with its charges, when\nit was my time.\n\n\"Colonel Buckner, I do not acknowledge this to be the work of an\nabolitionist, This was a selfish, unprincipled man; he was making\nhimself rich, and probably was taking Jack down the river, and would\nhave kept on selling him, and dividing, until he would have sold him\nfor the last time, and then have taken from Jack all the money he had\ngiven him from these clandestine sales. I have no word of sanction to\ngive to work like this; I should say his place was here in jail instead\nof Jack. If Jack had come to us hungry and naked, we should have fed\nand clothed him; and if sick with fatigue and footsore, we should have\ngiven him a ride toward Canada, if he wished to go there; but as for\nthis man, I will not own him as an abolitionist. I repudiate his work\naltogether.\"\n\n\"Oh, yes, he told Jack he was an abolitioner.\"\n\n\"Then he was a hypocrite. I want to suppose a case for you to consider.\nPerhaps a fine appearing man comes into your city, attends your\nMethodist meetings, and calls himself a Methodist. He speaks well in\nyour class meetings, speaks, prays, and sings in your prayer-meetings,\nand you became very favorably impressed with him as a Christian. He\nengages, perhaps, as clerk or bookkeeper in one of your large business\nhouses across the street, and during three or six months appears so\ncandid and punctual in all business transactions, that they confide to\nhis care important business. But the opportunity arrives when he takes\nadvantage of this confidence, and forges a draft of $3,000, and it is\ncashed, and he is off, never to be heard from again. Now as you learn\nof this dark deed, you have no idea of acknowledging that man as a\nChristian brother, have you?\"\n\n\"Oh, no, certainly not; we expect and know there are hypocrites.\"\n\n\"So do we expect hypocrites in our abolition ranks; but because of\ncounterfeit money we would not reject the true coin.\"\n\nIn the evening I was introduced to Mr. Adams, of South Carolina, with\nwhom we all seemed to enjoy free and easy conversation. He was quite\npleased to find his servant Jack, and a secret thought stole over me\nthat he was also pleased to get with him two or three times his value\nin gold.\n\nSabbath morning Ben Franklin No. 2 packet came in, and I prepared to go\nto the boat, as the jailor said the sheriff had not yet returned from\nthe country. Said the jailor:\n\n\"I don't like to have you leave without seeing Fairbanks, as you are\nthe only friend who has called on him. I have a great mind to assume\nthe responsibility of just taking you into the jail a few minutes\nbefore you go.\"\n\n\"I would thank you very kindly,\" I said, \"if you think it prudent; but\nif not, I shall not urge you in the least.\"\n\n\"I reckon there can be no harm done. Come on, we'll go,\" and I followed\nhim into the jail, and he called for Fairbanks.\n\nI met him under circumstances that had caused such bitter prejudices\nagainst him that there was no shadow of probability that any thing like\njustice would be shown him. Besides, there were forty sad faces before\nme, of persons who, the jailer told me, had committed no crime, but\nwere placed there for _safe keeping_, as they had been purchased in\ndifferent places for the lower market. A gang was being prepared by a\ntrader, and these were all shades, from the ebony black to those with\nfair skin, straight hair, and blue eyes, with hardly a vestige of\nAfrican descent. With this scene before me, I could not restrain tears,\nneither were Calvin's eyes dry. As he held my hand in both of his, he\nsaid:\n\n\"Let us keep good courage. I think I shall be released after my trial.\nI want you to see my lawyer, Mr. Thruston; he says he will take my case\nthrough for six hundred dollars.\"\n\nI told him I had no power to indemnify a lawyer. And after I received\nhis note urging me to see him, I sent a note back by the keeper to that\neffect.\n\n\"But if you can see him, he may fall in his price two hundred or three\nhundred dollars. Don't leave without seeing him.\"\n\nI told him I would have seen him if he had been in town on receiving\nhis note, and yet I could see no important benefit in securing an\ninterview with the lawyer, as his figures, unless greatly reduced, were\nbeyond our reach in Cincinnati.\n\n\"Perhaps he may reduce them if you see him.\"\n\nWith these beseeching words, with tearful eyes that brought tears to\nthe eyes of the colonel as well, the colonel said at once:\n\n\"I think you ought to comply with Fairbanks's request, and stay over\none more trip. You can stop with us and be welcome. If you choose to\ncall on Dr. Field, as Fairbanks has suggested, you can do so; but I\nreckon it's your duty to see his lawyer.\"\n\nDr. Field was a practical abolitionist. Like Dr. Brisbane and James G.\nBirney, he emancipated his own slaves, and left Louisville on account\nof slavery, and made a home in Jeffersonville, on the Indiana side of\nthe river.\n\nAs it was now ten minutes, double the time suggested by the jailer\nwhile we were on our way to the jail, I turned to the keeper, and told\nhim as my interview was prolonged beyond its limit, I would go; and on\ntaking leave of Calvin he pointed to four men standing a few feet from\nhim, and said, \"Do you know those men?\"\n\nI looked up and nodded to them a recognition. They were fugitives who\nhad been recaptured by virtue of the fugitive slave law passed in 1850,\nsome of whom had made their escape from slavery many years before. One,\nwhose name was Baker, with whom I was well acquainted, had hair\nstraighter and skin fairer than very many of our Anglo-Saxon race.\nThese four answered to the nod, smiling through their tears. They had\nenjoyed a taste of freedom, and now were to be hurled back to a dark\nlife of bondage more bitter to them than ever before. But not a word\ncould I utter to them. The slight bow, as I was turning away, was all;\nand yet that was sufficient to set on fire a world of iniquity in the\nfour officers in front of the iron grates through which we conversed\nwith Calvin Fairbanks. These officers beckoned to the jailer as we were\npassing through to the outer gate, and upon his opening it, he said,\n\"Will you please pass through the yard into our apartments alone?\"\n\n\"Certainly,\" I responded; and turning to me, he remarked, \"Those\nofficers beckoned to see me a moment.\"\n\nI drew my arm from his, that he had so politely tendered in going to\nand from Calvin. In passing through the yard I met their slave man, who\nsaid, in a low tone, \"Did you see Fairbanks?\"\n\nI answered, in a like tone, \"I did.\"\n\n\"Glory!\" he cried, just loud enough for me to hear.\n\nNear the door I was met by Mary, who said but little above a whisper,\n\"Did you see him?\" As I gave a nod, she said, \"Good, good!\" clapping\nher hands for joy.\n\nI waited in the parlor for the return of the jailer, as he had said he\nwould go to the river with me. He soon came in, pale and trembling with\nexcitement.\n\n\"Mrs. Haviland, those officers are all boiling over with excitement.\nThey wanted to know if I didn't see how just the sight of you was like\nan electric shock all over that crowd of slaves.\" \"Didn't you see those\nfour runaways cry at the sight of her?\" said one of the officers. I\ntold them my attention was all taken up with your conversation with\nFairbanks, and noticed nothing of others.\n\n\"They say it is very evident that you are a dangerous person, and\ndeserve to be here in this jail just as much as Fairbanks, and they are\nfor arresting you at once; and I don't know, Mrs. Haviland, that it\nwill be in my power to protect you. There have been threats in the\npapers every day since you've been here; and Shotwell has had his\nofficers out hunting in every hotel for you; but we have kept it\ncarefully from the public that you were with me, until now these\nofficers are determined to arrest you.\"\n\nSaid I: \"Colonel Buckner, should your officers come in this moment I\nhave nothing to fear. The God of Daniel is here at this hour. Should I\nbe arrested, you wouldn't keep me in your jail three days. I have no\nmore fear than if I were in my own room in Cincinnati.\"\n\nHis trembling voice became quiet; and more calmly he said:\n\n\"Well, it is a glorious thing to feel like you do; but I reckon you'd\nbetter go over the river to Dr. Field's, and when Mr. Thruston comes\ninto the city I'll send him over to see you. I advise you not to set\nfoot on the Kentucky shore again, as I know it will not be safe. There\nis this morning a great excitement jail over town about you. So one of\nthe officers told me. But I'll go to the river with you right soon.\"\n\nWe started for the door, when he halted: \"I don't think I had better go\nwith you now, as these officers may come out and make trouble, and I\nreckon you'd be safer alone.\"\n\n\"Very well, I have no hesitancy whatever in going alone;\" and I bode\nhim \"good-bye.\"\n\nAs I was opening the door he reached his hand to return the\n\"Good-bye--God bless you!\" and I left the jail and jailer.\n\nI passed a large hotel, with perhaps fifteen or twenty men standing on\nthe sidewalk in front. All seemed in a perfect buzz of\nexcitement,--When I saw this company of men, the first thought was to\npass over on the other side. \"But I will neither turn to the right nor\nthe left, but pass through their midst,\" was an impression that I\nfollowed; and so busily engaged were they in their excited conversation\nthat they hardly looked to see the little passer-by, the subject of\ntheir thoughts and words. Said one:\n\n\"Great excitement in town to-day.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir; you can see a group of men at every street corner.\"\n\nI smiled to myself, as I thought, \"Little do you think this is the\nlittle old woman you are troubling yourselves over.\"\n\nI soon was in Jeffersonville inquiring for Dr. Field's residence, and\nwas shown the house across the street, and upon its front porch stood a\nlittle group--the doctor and family, with two ministers--watching me;\nand as I opened the gate and inquired if this was Dr. Field's residence:\n\n\"Yes, I am the Jason,\" said the doctor. \"We're been looking for you,\nMrs. Haviland, every day since you've been in Louisville.\"\n\nThis was an unexpected salutation, and I felt at home again as I\nclasped their warm hands of friendship.\n\n\"How is it that you have knowledge of me?\"\n\n\"Just walk in, and I'll show you the papers; haven't you seen them?\"\n\nI told him I had not, and knew nothing of it until just as I was\nleaving; the jailer told me there had been threats in the daily papers\nto arrest me. When I read these little scurrilous articles, calculated\nto inflame an already inflamed public, I wondered, as well as the\ndoctor, that they had not found my whereabouts and made trouble. I\nhoped my Cincinnati friends had not seen this, as I had written them\nthe reason of my delay, and sent the letter by the same boat that\nbrought me to Louisville. I enjoyed sweet rest with these Christian\nfriends, and attended with them their afternoon meeting. The minister\nwho preached was as earnest an abolitionist as the doctor, and brother\nProctor preached as radical an abolition sermon as I ever listened to;\nit seemed like an oasis in a desert.\n\nThe day following I sent a note to Lawyer Thruston's office, and\nreceived in reply the statement that his illness had prevented his\nleaving his room during two weeks past, and urged me to come and see\nhim without delay, and he would stand between me and all harm. The\ndoctor said, as he was a lawyer of influence in their city, he advised\nme to go; and as it was snowing a little, he gave me an umbrella, with\nwhich I might screen myself while passing the jail, as well as be\nsheltered from the snow. I found the lawyer very affable in his\nmanners, and he said they would do the best they could for Fairbanks,\nand we might pay what we could. I returned without difficulty to our\n\"Jason.\"\n\nI wrote a little article under the caption of \"Correction,\" and sent it\nto both the _Commercial_ and Louisville _Courier_. It was inserted,\nwith the following editorial note:\n\n\"Notwithstanding the pretended laudability of her errand to our city,\nwe are still satisfied it was out of no good motive, as birds of a\nfeather will flock together.\"\n\nMost assuredly I was thankful to see the return of \"Ben Franklin, No.\n2,\" which took me from that nest of unclean birds to those of more\ncongenial and harmless habits. My anxious friends in Cincinnati had not\nreceived either of any letters, and had read only these threatening\ncards in the Cincinnati _Commercial_, copied from Louisville dailies,\nthat caused great anxiety. I sent a letter by both trips that this boat\nmade during the week I was in Louisville, and Colonel Buckner took both\nand said he would sec them delivered at the boat.\n\nWhile on the boat a gentleman and his wife among the passengers were\nreturning to their Eastern home, with whom I formed a pleasant\nacquaintance. Among other topics of discussion was the value of hygiene\nand hydropathy, in which a Louisville physician joined, narrating his\nobservations of the system during a practice of fifteen years in\nLouisville. As he seemed to be an intelligent and social gentleman, we\nall seemed to enjoy our new acquaintances. I remarked to him that there\nseemed to exist quite an excitement in his city during the week past,\nover an old lady who took a few articles of under-clothes and a quilt\nor two to Fairbanks.\n\n\"O, yes; were you in the city?\"\n\n\"I was, and was surprised at the excitement produced by her presence.\"\n\n\"Well, I suppose Shotwell did make a great stir over his loss of a\nhouse-servant. I understand be spent three hundred dollars in his\neffort to find that woman, as he thought she knew where his slave was.\nI have forgotten her name.\"\n\n\"Mrs. Haviland, from Cincinnati, was the one threatened in your\ndailies,\" I replied.\n\n\"Ob, yes, that was the name. I heard you say you are going to\nCincinnati; do you know any thing of that lady?\"\n\n\"I do; I have been acquainted with her from childhood.\"\n\n\"You have! What sort of a lady is she?\"\n\n\"Well, if you should see her, you wouldn't think it worth while to\nraise all this breeze over her, or any thing she could do. She is a\nlittle, insignificant looking woman, anyhow; and yet I think she is\nconscientious in what she does.\"\n\n\"There wouldn't have been such a stir but for Mr. Shotwell, who felt\nhimself wronged in the loss of his house servant;\"\n\n\"But he is considered one of your most influential citizens, I am told.\"\n\n\"Yes, madam; I reckon we'll have to excuse him, for he is quite nervous\nand angry over Fairbanks.\"\n\nAfter quite a lengthy conversation on this subject, my new lady friend,\nto whom I had related a portion of my Louisville experience, was\nwaiting for an opportunity to put a joke on the Louisville doctor, and\ncalled me by name. At this the astonished doctor said:\n\n\"I reckon this is not Mrs. Haviland, is it?\"\n\n\"That is the name by which I am called.\"\n\n\"Is this indeed the lady we've been talking about, and of whose\nappearance you gave such a brilliant description?\" And he laughed\nheartily. \"Well, well, Mrs. Haviland, don't judge our city by this\nlittle flurry of excitement; for we have good, substantial people in\nour town, and I hope you'll visit our city again sometime, and you'll\nfind it's true. I reckon if those excited men had arrested you, there\nwould have rallied to your aid a different class of men; for your\nerrand was perfectly proper, and you would have been borne out in it,\ntoo, by the more sensible people of our city.\"\n\nBut my Cincinnati friends were not so confident of my safety. Said Levi\nCoffin, as I met him, \"Dr. Brisbane has said it was most likely that we\nshould find thee in prison; and our friend, James G. Birney, is also\nvery much discouraged, and said he was sorry thou went at this time of\nexcitement, of both North and South, over the lynching of Williams near\nBaltimore, the binding of Conklin and throwing him into the river, and\nnow the illegal capture of Calvin Fairbanks in Indiana, and taking him\nover into Kentucky and lodging him in jail there. But they have no\nregard or respect for law. As we knew all this, we have all been\nexceedingly anxious for thy safety.\"\n\nIt was a season of rejoicing with us all that our suffering brother in\nprison had received present relief; and no threats were put in\nexecution in regard to myself. I realized an answer to prayer before I\nleft for that prison, and not a moment while in Louisville did I in the\nleast doubt the keeping power to be stronger than the power of\ndarkness. Our friend, James G. Birney, being feeble in health, sent for\nme to spend a day in his family; and a rich feast I enjoyed in\nlistening to the experience of that noble Christian man. Worthy was he\nto have presided over our nation.\n\nExcitement does not cease, though the base is changed. Tidings came to\nus that fourteen newly-arrived fugitives were housed in the basement of\nZion Baptist Church. I repaired at once to see what was needed for\ntheir journey, and found a very sick babe, two months old. The mother\nsaid it was very sick before they left, and she did not expect it to\nlive, but their arrangements were made to go for freedom, and she would\nrather bury her child on the way than to stay behind till it left her.\nIt died that night, and they were provided with a respectable coffin,\nand the company, with others, formed a funeral procession to the\nburying-ground. After the burial the thirteen fugitives were taken to\nthe Quaker settlement, twenty-five miles distant, and from thence were\nforwarded to Canada. The colored members of our vigilance committee\ninformed me that an infant died in that basement once before, and they\ntook up a part of the floor and buried the child in the grave prepared\nfor it, to avoid suspicion; for its parents were the slaves of a\nwealthy Kentuckian, who was making great efforts to capture the family.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\nCHRISTIAN AND EDUCATIONAL WORK.\n\n\nVery many incidents of interest we must pass over; but, suffice to say,\nthere was seldom a week passed without a slave or slaves leaving a boat\nor otherwise crossing the river in quest of freedom.\n\nI met on the street a sister White, who was much distressed about her\nson, who was almost gone with consumption, and yet was unwilling to see\nany minister or religious person, to say any thing to him about a\npreparation for the change. \"Do, please, go with me now to see my dying\nson Harvey. May he'll listen to you.\"\n\nI went to her house, and found him too weak to talk much. The mother\nintroduced me as her friend who had called on her. I took his emaciated\nhand, and said, \"I see you are very low and weak, and I do not wish to\nworry you with talking, but you have but little hope of being restored\nto health I should judge from your appearance.\"\n\nHe turned his head on his pillow as he said, \"I can never be any\nbetter--I can't live.\"\n\n\"Then your mind has been turned toward the future, and may the\nenlightening influence of the Holy Spirit lead you to the Great\nPhysician of souls, who knows every desire of the heart, and is able to\nsave to the uttermost, even at the eleventh hour.\" I saw the starting\ntear as he looked earnestly at me, while I was still holding his\nfeverish hand in mine. \"Will it be too much for you, in your weak\ncondition, if I should read to you a few of the words of our Lord and\nSavior?\"\n\n\"O no, I'd like to hear you.\"\n\nI opened to John xiv; and upon reading a few verses I saw that the\nimpression made was deepening, and asked if it would worry him too much\nif I should spend a few moments in prayer.\n\n\"O no, I'd like to hear you pray.\"\n\nPlacing my hand on his forehead, I implored divine aid in leading this\nprecious soul to the cleansing fountain, and that his faith might\nincrease, and in its exercise be enabled to secure the pearl of great\nprice.\n\nAs I arose from his bedside, he reached out both hands for mine, and\nsaid, \"I want you to come to-morrow.\" He wept freely; and I left with\nthe burden of that precious soul upon my heart.\n\nThe mother and sister, who were both professors of religion, stood near\nthe door weeping for joy over the consent of the dear son and brother\nto listen to the few words of reading and prayer.\n\nThe day following I met the sick man again, and as soon as I entered\nhis mother's room she said, \"O, how thankful we are to God for this\nvisit to my poor boy! He seems in almost constant prayer for mercy.\nEarly this morning he spoke of your coming to-day.\"\n\nAs I entered his room he threw up both hands, saying, \"God will have\nmercy on poor me, won't he?\"\n\n\"Most certainly,\" I responded; \"his word is nigh thee, even in thy\nheart, and in thy mouth.\"\n\n\"Do pray for me,\" he requested.\n\nI read a few words from the Bible, and followed with prayer, in which\nhe joined with a few ejaculations. I left him much more hopeful than on\nthe previous day.\n\nThe next morning his sister came for me in great haste, saying,\n\"Brother Harvey wants to see you, quick.\"\n\nIt was not yet sunrise; but I hastened to obey the message, as I\nsupposed he was dying. Not a word passed between us until we reached\nher brother's room. Upon opening his door he exclaimed, \"Glory, glory\nto God, Mrs. Haviland! Come to me quick, I want to kiss you; for God\nbrought me out of darkness this morning about the break of day. O\nhallelujah! Glory to Jesus! He shed his blood for poor me; and I\nshouted louder than I could talk for a good many days. O, how I wish I\nhad strength to tell every body that I am happier in one minute than I\never knew in all my life put together!\"\n\nHe became quite exhausted in shouting and talking, and I advised him to\nrest now in the arms of the beloved Savior.\n\n\"Yes, I am in his arms. Glory to his name for what he has done for me!\nI want you to see my cousin George; he is sick, and not able to come to\nsee me to-day.\"\n\nI told him I would within a few days, and left him, with his cup of\nsalvation overflowing.\n\nAbout two hours before he died he looked at his mother, smiling, and\nsaid, \"There's Mary; don't you see her, standing at the foot of my bed?\"\n\n\"No, my son, mother don't see her.\"\n\n\"O, how beautiful she looks! It seems as if you _must_ see her,\" and he\nlooked very earnestly at the object. \"There, she's gone now.\" Fifteen\nminutes before he breathed his last he said, \"Here she is again, and so\nbeautiful! Mother, can't you see her?\"\n\n\"No, son, I can't see her.\"\n\n\"Beautiful, beautiful she is. There, she's gone again.\" Just as the\nsoul took its flight, he upraised both hands, with a smile, and said,\n\"Here she is, with two angels with her. They've come for me;\" and the\nhands dropped as the breath left him, with the smile retained, on his\ncountenance.\n\nThe sister Mary, that died a number of years previously, was about four\nyears old; and his mother told me she had not heard her name mentioned\nin the family for months before Harvey's death.\n\nMy time was fully occupied in caring for the sick and dying, as cholera\nhad become very prevalent and fatal. Among the many who died with that\ndisease were Levi and Catherine Coffin's daughter Anna, about ten years\nof age, and a lady, the mother of three children, whose dying request\nwas that I should take charge of her children until the return of their\nfather, who was in California.\n\nA few weeks passed, and my promise to Harvey White was forgotten, until\none morning it rushed upon me with such force that I trembled. I\nhastened to see him, and, to my surprise, he too was very near to death\nwith consumption, and without hope. His mother was a widow, also an\nearnest Christian; but her son George would not allow her or any of the\nministers of her acquaintance to talk with him on the subject of\nreligion. But he was glad to hear that his cousin Harvey had died so\nhappy; and she thought if I should tell him about Harvey he would\nlisten to me. He could speak but little above a whisper, I told him of\nmy reading to Harvey, and asked if he would like to hear me read the\nsame to him. He said he would; and I read the same words, and told him\nhow earnestly his cousin Harvey had prayed, and God, who hears and\nanswers prayer, answered him, and he died a happy Christian. His\nfeelings became tender, and I knelt by his bedside in supplication. As\nI was about to leave, he said:\n\n\"There is a difficulty in my way, and I think you can remove it; but I\nam more rested early in the morning, and if you can come to-morrow\nmorning I will tell you what it is.\"\n\nI told him I would be there if life and health were spared.\n\nThe following morning I met him more rested. He said:\n\n\"I have tried to pray to God; then it seems as if Jesus Christ stands\nthere, and if I pray to Jesus it don't feel quite clear, because I want\nto go to head-quarters, and I am confused, and don't know where to go\nor what to do, and so I've given it all up; for it's all dark before\nme, and I've concluded to die in the dark.\"\n\nThis sorrowful condition of unbelief brought secret prayer for divine\nguidance in words to place the divinity of the Lord Jesus as clearly as\npossible before him. I read a few passages where he manifested his\npower by miracles, \"that ye may know that the Son of man hath power on\nearth to forgive sins.\" He heard me attentively, and suddenly exclaimed:\n\n\"Now I see it; now I see it; now I've got a foothold. Now I can pray. I\nwant you to pray for me.\"\n\nHe followed in earnest prayer. At the close he raised his clasped\nhands: \"I've found him; I've got him. O, how I wish I could have voice\nand strength to tell you how happy I am! I want to go to my Savior; he\nis my all. But I can not tell it here; I will tell it in glory. It's\nall light now; the darkness, is all gone.\"\n\nHe seemed much exhausted, and took leave of his mother and mister, and\nsank into a stupor, and quietly passed away that afternoon.\n\nI felt under renewed obligations to praise Him for his loving kindness\nin reminding me, so vividly of the promise I made to that dying young\nman, Harvey White. How careful we should be to attend, to every little\nerrand as we are passing through our life-work. I felt to upbraid\nmyself for being so inattentive to that request. Had that precious soul\nleft the shores of time without hope in Christ, I could never have\nforgiven myself for my neglect. There are neglected duties that dot my\nlife here and there with regrets, that have been lessons to teach the\nnecessity of greater faithfulness in the Master's work.\n\nThe daughter of John Hatfield came to me with the word that there was a\nwoman at their house who wished to see me. Her father being a member of\nthe vigilance committee I went without delay, and found the woman in\ngreat distress of mind. She said she was a slave, but had the privilege\nof working in Cincinnati at house-cleaning, washing, or any jobs she\ncould get, by paying her mistress three dollars per week. In this way\nshe had managed to lay aside for herself over twenty dollars during\nnearly two years. She had a husband and nine children, \"An' las' year,\"\nsaid she, \"missus was gwine to sell my oldes' gal an' her baby to get\nmoney to keep her two gals in school Norf somewhars, an' she tuck her\nbaby an' run off for Canada, an' now she says she's got to sell my\nMary;\" and her tears came as from a fountain.\n\n\"Why don't she come away as your other daughter did?\" I asked.\n\n\"Oh, she can't; missus won't let one o' my family come but me. She\nlet's me come an' do all her marketin' arter I gets all her work\na-goin', so my man an' chillen goes on wid it; she lets me come to de\ncity to work, an' I pays her three dollars every week. Now I'se full o'\ntrouble over my Mary;\" and she wept so freely that it was some time\nbefore she could give me this little sketch. I found they lived fifteen\nmiles from the river, and she had placed her money in the hands of a\ncolored man by the name of Bailey, to keep for her to use at some\nfuture time in going to Canada with her family. He had told her when\nthe right time came he would have her money ready for her, and would\nhelp her. I told her I would gladly relieve her were it in my power;\nbut all I could do was to advise her to bring her family in the covered\nmarket wagon, and throw a quilt or blanket over them; then the hay she\nalways put in for her team over that, and a bag of apples, and another\nof potatoes, or any thing she generally brought into market, placed in\nfront so as to present the appearance of a load of marketing. As she\nhad been over so often, she said, the ferryman hardly ever asked her\nfor her pass, for he knew her so well. \"Don't you see you are the very\none to bring yourself and family here? You could drive over and take\nyour family to either of three places: to a colored family on\nMacallister Street, by the name of Hall; or to Levi Coffin's, on the\ncorner of Ninth and Walnut Streets; or bring them here to John\nHatfield's. At either of these places you are as sure of going through\nsafe as if you were already in Canada.\" She listened with great\nattention, and her tears dried away as she looked up, with her face\nshining with hope, and said, \"I do b'leve I can do it; I never thought\no' that. I'll go to Bailey for my money fus thing, an' I'll go mighty\nsoon.\" I charged her not to name to Bailey or any other human being\nthis side or the other, the plan I had given her, except to her own\nfamily. She promised, and left with a much lighter heart.\n\nA few days later I was requested to meet Mary French, who would be at\nJohn Hatfield's house at twelve o'clock. Her friend said, \"She is\nnearly crazy, an' I coaxed her to see you. She's los' faith in every\nbody I reckon, for 't was a good bit afore I could get her to see you\nagin. She said she did see you wonst, an' you couldn't do nothin' for\nher. She's bin house-cleanin' wid me, an' it 'pears like she's 'cryin'\nall the time, day an' night, an' me an' another woman got her to see\nyou, if I'd git you to come to Mr. Hatfield's at noon.\" I found her\nwringing her hands and weeping bitterly. As I looked upon that poor,\ndespairing woman that I had left so hopeful a few days previously, I\nfelt that I could say or do nothing for her but to point her to the God\nof Israel, who is able and willing to lead his oppressed children. I\nsaid, \"Were you ever a Christian?\"\n\n\"I was three years ago, an' I lived a prayin' life a year; then the\nwhite folks did so bad, it 'peared like I couldn't live 'ligion, an' I\ngiv' it all up. Missus sole my poor gal down de river, to sen' her two\ngals to de Norf to school now she's gwine to sell my Mary, kase they's\nrunnin' short o' money; an' she missed sellin' my gal las' year. If I\nhadn't lef de Lord maybe dis hard trouble wouldn't come 'pon me.\" And\nagain she began to wring her hands with convulsive weeping.\n\nAs I looked upon that poor, crushed spirit, the most frantic with grief\nof any person I ever saw, a feeling of confidence sprang up in me that\nshe would become free. Said I, \"You have known what it was to ask God\nto give you freedom from sin, and make you free from the bondage of\nSatan. Now go to him with full purpose of heart, and he will restore\nthe joys of his salvation and again will set you free in soul. Then, I\nfeel confident that the Captain of the soul's freedom will open the way\nfor freedom from this chain of slavery that now binds you as a family.\nNow go to Jesus; he will do great things for you. You lose confidence\nin your friends, you lose confidence in yourself; but go to the Lord\nJesus, and believe he will direct you, and he will do it. Let prayer be\nthy constant work, then faith will increase--that will not fail.\" At\nthese few words she became calm, and said, as she looked up, \"Can you\ntell me where my daughter is?\"\n\n\"Certainly,\" I said, \"I heard from her yesterday; she is in\nCarthaginia, Indiana. I had supposed she went directly to Canada, and I\nwas sorry she stopped so near to the line--not more than one hundred\nmiles off.\"\n\n\"I was tole she went through this city with her baby.\"\n\n\"It was true,\" I answered. I was astonished to see her wipe her tears\naway and become calm so soon, and converse with so much composure.\n\n\"If we come soon can you go a piece wid us?\"\n\n\"It will make no difference whether I am here or not, if you go to\neither of the places I told you of. There are a great many safe places\nhere, but I gave those places you know so well, and can find day or\nnight I shall probably go to my home in Michigan next week, and it is\nuncertain when I return; but don't forget to carry your burden to the\nLord by constant prayer for his directing hand; and whatever way he\nopens, take it; if it should be any other way than the plan I\nsuggested, take it, regardless of what I have said, except to mind\nclosely the impressions you feel confident come from an All-wise\nDirector. Do this, and I have great faith in your success.\n\n\"Never have I had the strong faith that I have at this moment, that if\nyou go to the Savior for his help in this time of your great need, he\nwill lead you out of slavery. I advise you not to wait for Bailey. If\nyou come here you can all be taken to Canada without a dollar.\"\n\nThis seemed to surprise her. She said she could get a few dollars, as\nshe was earning good day wages.\n\n\"One thing more I would say,\" I went on, \"and that is, wherever I may\nbe, whether in my Michigan home, or here in this city, I shall not\nforget to implore divine aid in the deliverance of this family from\nslavery.\"\n\nWith this solemn interview we parted, and the burden of prayer followed\nme to my home. Hardly a day passed without presenting that poor family\nat a throne of grace for their preservation.\n\nTwo months later found me again in the exciting scenes of Cincinnati.\nMy first inquiry was for Mary French. \"Yes, I heard a few days ago that\nher mistress had forbidden her ever to come to this city again, and had\nthreatened to sell the whole family down the river, and I suppose they\nare all sold by this time,\" said John Hatfield. He said she remained in\nthe city three or four weeks after I saw her, to get money to start\nwith, but she was too late. Her Mary was sold just before she returned\nhome, and the poor woman grieved so for her poor girl, that he heard\nher mistress abused her, and threatened to sell them all. It seemed as\nif I could hardly endure the thought, when I had indulged such strong\nhope of her success, but I could not yet give her up, though I\nregretted exceedingly her delay, as I felt great confidence that He who\nnotes the falling sparrow, and hears the young ravens cry, would have\nbrought that family out of bondage.\n\nWhile in charge of the sick, word was brought by a workman in a shop\nthat there was an exciting report in town that a market wagon brought\nover a load of nine slaves early that morning, and that a reward of\nfive hundred dollars was offered for information of their whereabouts.\nWhile my heart leaped for joy, hoping it might be Mary French and\nfamily, yet as I was in a pro-slavery family, my feelings were kept to\nmyself. The man of the house said:\n\n\"What a pity to lose that amount of property! But according to your\nprinciples, Mrs. Haviland, I suppose you are glad of it.\"\n\n\"Certainly. As I told you the other day, the negroes have the same\nrights from their Creator that we have, and no man or class of men has\nthe right to take them away.\"\n\n\"Now can't you set aside these notions of yours? You can easily find\nout where they are, and slyly report them, and here's your five hundred\ndollars.\"\n\n\"I would not for ten times that amount. Would you do it?\"\n\n\"Certainly I would, and should think it my duty.\"\n\n\"I am astonished to hear this from one who professes to be a follower\nof the Lord Jesus, a part of whose mission was to unbind the heavy\nburdens and let the oppressed go free. It is pain to me to hear you\nadvance the sentiments you do in the presence of your children; and a\nclass-leader in the Methodist Protestant Church. I can not henceforward\nacknowledge you as a brother in Christ.\"\n\n\"Why, Mrs. Haviland! You are the most uncharitable person I ever met.\nThis hurts my feelings more than anything you have said in presenting\nyour radical position.\"\n\n\"I do hope and pray that the enlightening influences of the Holy Spirit\nmay lead to a far different view from your present one. I am grieved to\nhear this from one who is looked upon as a leader to the Lamb of God,\nwho shed his blood for the whole universe of man, regardless of color\nor nation.\"\n\nHis reply was, \"I want to refer you to a few more Scripture arguments\nthat I have not mentioned. To-night, from seven o'clock till nine, I\nwant to talk with you on this subject.\"\n\nI told him I would be ready, but I had one request, and that was to\nmake this a subject of prayer, as I should myself, during the day. He\nsaid he would seriously look it over, and left for his business.\n\nAt nine o'clock my patient was comfortably cared for, and I had been\ntalking of going to Levi Coffin's on an errand for a number of days. I\nasked permission of her to be absent an hour for that purpose, and her\nconsent for two hours was given. On my way I called on John Hatfield,\nto know whether this company of slaves was not the Mary French family.\n\n\"Oh, no, that poor family has gone down the river. I heard some days\nago that they were sold to a trader.\"\n\n\"The market-wagon was the plan I gave Mary, and I hoped so much that it\nwas her family.\"\n\n\"Yes, but we should be just as glad for other slaves panting for\nliberty, as for her,\" and I accepted the remark as almost a half\nreproof for being more anxious for her than for other slaves.\n\nAs I entered Catherine Coffin's room I inquired whether she knew this\nmorning's company of the nine slaves to be Mary French and family. \"I\nknow nothing of the name, but a woman and little child are up in our\nattic; but nobody knows it about this house but Levi and I.\"\n\n\"Please go up and tell her a friend is going to call on her, so as not\nto frighten her.\"\n\n\"Go on; she'll know we would let no one but a friend go up.\" I walked\nslowly up to the fourth story, and lo! on a box in the corner sat Mary\nFrench with her little grandchild sitting at her feet. \"Is it possible\nthat is Mary French?\" I exclaimed. She sprang to me with outstretched\narms, clasped me with tears of joy and leaning her head on my shoulder\nsobbed.\n\n\"O, my God has saved me so far, but my pore Mary was sole down de\nribber, when I is here in de city to git a little money to start wid.\nWhen I gets into missus' door, I sort o' felt somethin' wrong, an' axt\nher, 'Whar's Mary?', She say, 'I sole her las' week,' an' I cried, 'O\nmy God! save my pore chile Mary!' an' she kotched up de tongs an' beat\nme on my head 'til I loss my min', and when I come to I was layin' on\nde floor bleedin'. You see here is a sore yit\" (pointing to her head).\nThere was a gash that must have been three inches long by the\nappearance of the scar and sore, yet unhealed. \"Missus said I never,\nthe longes' day I live, should set foot in Cincinnati, 'case free\nniggers ruin me, an' afore she have such a fuss as dis, she put de hull\nof us in her pocket. I knowd what dis mean, and I tried mighty hard to\ncheer up afore her. But my tears was my meat and drink a few days. I\n'membered your word to go to de Lord day an' night, 'case I couldn't\ncome to you no mo'e. In three days he answered my prayer, an' jus' tole\nme I's gwine to be free, an' I tole my husban' so, but he couldn't git\nfaith in me. I tole 'im to put faith in God, as I did now. But I did\nlose faith in my bes' frien' when Bailey tole me you an' Hatfiel'\nbetrayed my gal Mary, an' got a hundred dollars reward; den I was mos'\ncrazy. And when dat 'oman tole me to go to you, an' I tole her I did\ntalk to you, and tole her what Bailey said 'bout you an' Hatfiel', she\nsaid he was a bad man, an' lied only to keep my mouey. She begged me so\nhard I tole her if you'd tell me whar Mary is, I'd have faith in you,\nan' when you tole me so quick, all my faith in you come back. How I\nwish you could see my man, for he's so sure they'll cotch us. I don't\nknow whar he is, for we's scattered among de good people. O, what a\ntime I had wid 'im to git 'im started. I loaded an' unloaded four times\nafore he'd come. At las' a pore white man tole me he hear missus say\nshe gwine to sell us all to de firs' trader come along. I say, 'What\nshall I do?' He say, 'If I was you, I'd run away.' I say 'Here's my man\nan' chillen, can't go widout 'em.' He say 'All go, an' if dey cotch you\n'twon't be no wuss dan to go to de trader, and if I can do any way to\nhelp you I will, for I feels sorry for you.' When I tole my man, he was\nso skeered he didn't know hisself scarcely. He was ready to do anyhow I\nwants 'im, au' I went to dis white man, an' ax 'im for his boy ten year\nole, to go wid me to market, an' take all my family, an' I'd cover 'em\nup in de market wagon. 'An' I'll tell your boy I wants 'im to watch my\nteam for me, an' I'll gib 'im a dollar.' 'All right, only tell 'im what\nyou'll do, an' tell 'im to come an' ax me an' he musn't know I knows\nabout it.' An' I tuk missus' young hosses, an' put my man an' chillen\nin, cover 'em up, den put a bag o' taters an' apples an' a basket o'\nchickens in front. An' I had dis little boy by de chickens, so if he\ncry or make a noise I shake de basket an' de noise of de chickens kill\nde noise of de boy. An' I drove de fifteen miles to de ribber by\ndaylight, and drove back of Covin'ton till de smoke of de ferry boat\nrise; den I prayed God to keep de ferryman from axin' me for my pass.\nFor I's mighty feared he would, 'case I hadn't been here in so long.\nAn' jus' afore sun up my man crawled out de back of de wagon. I told de\nboy to hol' de hosses till I fix somethin'. I whispered, 'Get back\nquick, for Gods sake,' an' he whispered, 'Let's go back, I knows dey'll\ncotch us.' 'Go back! Man, its death to go back; we'd be in jail in no\ntime waitin' for de trader.' An' he crawl back an' I tuck 'im up agin,\nan' we trimble like a popple leaf. Den de smoke jus' rise on de\nferry-beat, an' I drove on wid de white boy by my side. I prayed dat de\nLord wouldn't let de ferryman ax me for my pass. If he did I's gwine to\nsay, 'Dis white boy my pass;' but he didn't say a word, an' I praise\nGod for answerin' my prayer.\" I told her she had nothing to fear from\nthe five hundred dollars reward; she was in good hands; all she had to\ndo was to go when they were ready to take them; but I would write a few\nlines for her to take to the first stopping place after leaving the\ncity, advising to go by way of Carthaginia. \"Write me from that town,\nand tell your daughter to go on to Canada with you without fail.\"\n\nI left her with a lighter heart, rejoicing with that rejoicing family,\nthough yet trembling with fear. The time appointed for the two hours'\ndiscussion on the subject of slavery arrived. My pro-slavery friend was\nnot disposed to open the conversation he desired in the morning. After\nwaiting until one hour had elapsed, I asked if he was prepared to bring\nthe Scripture arguments he had for my consideration at this hour. He\nreplied that he had thought of but little else during the whole day;\nbut on the whole doubted whether his reasons would stand the test, and\ndeclined saying any thing farther in defense of the position he had\nadvanced. A few weeks later he died of cholera. I called on his widow,\nwho said he died a happy soul, and often spoke of his confidence in me\nas an honest-hearted Christian, and she never heard him speak\ndisparagingly of the colored people after the long conversation we had\non that subject. I regretted the loss of an opportunity of seeing him\nafter Mary French and family were safe in Canada. I wished to give him\ntheir history, as I felt sure it would have been \"like a nail driven in\na sure place.\" He had lived in the South, and the subject of slavery\nhad never been placed before him in this way.\n\nThe reward for the nine slaves was doubled on the second day of their\nexodus. All the clew the hunters got of their whereabouts was from the\nboy they met at the ferry. He could not read the names on the streets,\nand could only point as near as he knew in the direction where they all\nleft. He told them he didn't know there were any in the wagon but\n\"black Mary,\" till they all got out; then she told him to go to Walnut\nStreet ferry, and he drove two or three blocks when he stopped and\ncried, because he didn't know where to find Walnut Street. Then a man\ncame and told him to stop crying and he'd drive him to the ferry. They\nwent to Hall's, on Macallister Street, but not one was left there five\nminutes. They were conducted to different hiding-places, and not one\nwas left within a half a mile to a mile from that part of the city.\nSlave-hunters were paid from three dollars to seven dollars a day for\nwatching around those suspected streets and those leading northward.\nThe family were dressed in disguise and taken out in three carriages,\nclosed, and two white men in front, that gave an impression at sight of\na load of white people. At noon-day, in this manner, they rounded the\ncorners, where were standing some of their hunters who were receiving\ntheir seven dollars a day, as was ascertained by a scheme gotten up by\nthe colored people.\n\nThe next evening after the nine fugitives were taken northward, they\ndrove a double carriage into an alley near North Street, and the same\nnumber of colored people, so closely watched for, were hustled in with\nhaste, and driven off with speed. The call to \"_Stop_, HALT,\" was not\nheeded, until the police rushed at the increased cry, \"_Stop thief_,\nSTOP THIEF,\" and slackened their pace. But while the excited crowd\ngathered to see the police arrest the thieves, the colored man beside\nthe driver demanded the reason why he and his ladies should receive\nthis insult to hinder their pleasure ride. By throwing a light from\ntheir dark lantern in the faces of their pursuers, the hunters they had\nsuspected were recognized, to their great annoyance. There were those\namong them who would not have been exposed, perhaps, for half the\namount of the reward.\n\nA few days subsequent to this little episode I received a letter from\nMary, after their arrival at Carthaginia, where she met her daughter,\nwho, with her child, made their party number eleven. They very soon\nreached the \"land of the free.\" Nothing further was heard from them\nuntil I went with my two daughters to Windsor, Canada West, to attend\ntheir first of August celebration, in commemoration of West India\nemancipation. There were gathered a very large congregation in a grove,\nof both colored and white people. While listening to an eloquent\noration delivered by Samuel J. May, of Boston, I was taken from my seat\nand borne away a few rods, hardly touching the tops of the bushes with\nmy feet. I turned first one way and then the other, until I discovered\nthe sable face of Mary French, with big tears rolling down her cheeks.\nNot a word was spoken until we were entirely away from the\ncongregation, and I said, \"Mary, haven't we gone far enough?\" when she\nlet me down, and caught bold of my bands and kissed them, while tears\nof joy were still falling. \"O, how happy we is to be all free. Can't\nyou go to Malden an' see all my family? I knows my man would come all\ndis way afoot if he knowed you's here.\" I told her I could not, as I\nmust return the next day with my two daughters.\n\n\"Is dey heah?\"\n\n\"They were sitting by my side,\" said I; \"those two girls dressed in\nwhite are my daughters.\"\n\n\"Sweet creturs! de little angels; I mus' go see 'em. I's got two gals\nhere, too, an' I'll bring 'em to see you.\" And soon her hands were\nplaced on the shoulder of each, still weeping for joy as she said: \"God\nbless you! You tinks it strange to see an old black 'oman come to you\nlike dis, but you wouldn't if you know'd what your mother has done for\nme an' my family. If it hadn't been for her we should all been in\nslavery to dis day. I wants you to go out dar whar you see your mother\nstandin' afore a great while. I'm gwine back to her now.\" She came with\nher two girls, who were also very demonstrative in shaking and kissing\nmy hands; but they laughed instead of weeping as did their overjoyed\nmother. By the time my daughters came to us we were served with cake\nand ice cream. As she and her daughters had on the ground a little\nstand from which they made sales, their favors in this line were\nrepeated.\n\nInstead of one year's suspension, as we designed, we had deferred\nfinishing our institute building in Michigan from time to time, until\nfour years had elapsed. As the Ohio school law made provision to\nsupport a colored school in any town or place where there were as many\nas fifteen regular scholars, my daughter Anna and myself taught a\nschool for them of one hundred scholars one term, in the basement of\nZion Church, Toledo. The expenses were paid from the school fund.\n\nWith several fugitives, I started on my way to Toledo from Cincinnati,\nand spent a day at our friend William Beard's. From thence we were\ntaken to Newport, Indiana, where was a meeting appointed in behalf of\nCalvin Fairbanks, in which I gave a sketch of my visit to Louisville\njail in his behalf. I read the letter I had received from his lawyer on\nleaving Cincinnati, containing a proposition to do the best he could\nfor him, and with that object in view he staved off the case to the\nnext session of their court. At the close of the meeting fifteen\ndollars were raised, Bishop Quinn, of the African Methodist Episcopal\nChurch, giving one-third of it. As there was a fall of snow a foot\ndeep, the friends concluded to take us across a swamp, which would save\na number of miles; and as there were indications of a thaw, one man\noffered his team and double sleigh if a certain colored man would go\nthat night and drive it. We were soon well protected from the\nprospective inclement weather, with the buffalo-robe presented to me,\nand quilts around the balance of our load.\n\nThe shifting wind brought quite a snow-storm, that covered us over\nabout three inches deep. My company being very cold, I advised to stop\nat a house, the dim light of which was so tempting to the shivering\ncompany. I went to the door and asked permission to enter, giving our\nnumber, and our object in going through the swamp before a break-up.\nThe two old people granted the favor; but when the old lady saw the\ncolor of my company she became rather suspicious. Said she, \"If these\nare slaves we don't want any trouble, because you know the\nFugitive-slave Law makes a deal of trouble in some places.\" I assured\nher they would have none of that character on our account, for these\nyoung people were going with me to attend my school. When we were\nwarmed and the horses fed, we left our kind friends to borrow no more\ntrouble for fear of being disturbed with slave-hunters.\n\nAbout three o'clock we came to a large half-finished frame house,\nbrilliantly lighted, and the man seemed to be preparing his team for\nleaving. I called with our driver to see if we could warm ourselves and\nfeed the team, giving our reason for crossing the swamp to save\ndistance, and as there were indications of a thaw in the afternoon, we\nchose to come through that night. The man said that was his reason for\ngoing for a load of lumber so early--he fearing a break-up. They were\nvery kind, and insisted on our resting till daylight, and taking a warm\nbreakfast. The invitation was accepted with gratitude. I spent my time\nin conversing with our kind hostess, while my company slept an hour.\n\nAt nine o'clock we reached Carthaginia. The first one we met was a\ncolored woman, of whom I inquired where we could find a place to tarry\nfor a night, and find provender for our horses. She took in our\nsituation at once, and pointed to a large frame house in sight, the\nhouse of Samuel Jones, half a mile distant. While she was giving this\ninformation, a man ahead of us, with his carriage, stopped and turned\nback, saying, \"There is Mr. Jones now, coming to see you, I reckon.\" As\nhe came to us, I told him of the inquiry I made for a resting-place.\n\"And that is my house for you and barn for your horses,\" he said. After\ngiving each of us a shake of the hand, he said, turning to me, \"I know\nyou, though I never saw you before, and I will tell you of a\ncircumstance, after we get home, whereby you will recognize me.\" We\nfollowed him to his very comfortable home. We were soon seated at a\nluxurious table. Breakfast being over, he related a circumstance in\nwhich I had taken a deep interest, and by corresponding, the release\nfrom slavery of his relative was effected.\n\nBrother Jones gave me ten dollars for brother Fairbanks, in the\nKentucky prison. Here we took leave of our conductor, Henry Marshal,\nand a team and teamster were provided to take us on by way of\nBellefontaine. The anticipated warmer weather overtook us, and with a\nwagon we left Carthaginia. Streams with floating ice made fording\ndifficult, especially Mosquito Creek; but our driver and Simon measured\nthe depth of water, and with rails pushed the floating ice from the\nford, to enable me to drive through. Working as they did with all their\nmight to keep the cakes of ice from running against the horses and from\nimpeding the wheels, when we reached the swift current of the stream a\ncake blocked the wagon so as to stop the horses a few moments. One\nhorse became discouraged and began to lie down. At this the three women\njumped upon a large floating cake, from which they reached the shore\nwith the help of the men. Our teamster found his way into the wagon;\nand by pushing and crowding this way and that he loosened the wheel,\nand with continued urging and Simon's wading to the horses' heads, they\nfinally pulled through. We drove to a house, where the men changed\ntheir socks, and rubbed their horses with straw, they said, two hours,\nand then fed them. We pursued our journey without further difficulties\nto our school in Toledo.\n\nOften did my whilom slave scholars refer to the excitement at Mosquito\nCreek ford. I found the prejudice here very bitter against a colored\nschool; but the colored people had combined their weak forces and built\na church, designed for school, as well as their occasional meetings. My\nschool averaged nearly twenty scholars during the term, at the close of\nwhich we put in a petition for a support from the school fund. But a\nmajority of two ruled against us; for, although the State law required\nthem to support this school, they had already complied with the\nrequirement.\n\nAlthough I had designed to return home and re-open Raisin Institute,\nyet to press the board of education into its duty I reopened their\nschool for the second term; and every time that board met I met with\nthem with my petition, informing them, at their first refusal to adopt\nthe school, that this petition of the importunate widow would stand\nbefore them until it was granted. They frequently inquired of the\ncolored people how long I was going to teach for them. The answer every\ntime was, as I told them, until the board of education took it. In\ntheir discussions in the board I understood it was frequently remarked\nby our opposers \"that the end of that negro school would be when Mrs.\nHaviland left, and that wouldn't be long, for the negroes were too poor\nto pay her.\" But it was not for money that I taught their school, but\nto see justice meted out to them.\n\nThere were fifteen families of the lower class of Irish who lived in\nshanties near the canal that ran within a few rods of our school-house,\nand as the most of our school passed them, or would have to go half a\nmile farther, we got from one man in particular a systematic cursing;\nbeginning with cursing my feet, and cursing every toe on them, and\ncursing every nail on every toe, and so on, to cursing my head, and\ncursing every hair on it. This regular set of curses were for me every\ntime I passed when he was in his cabin, and frequently a number of\nothers standing by would join him. But as he or some of the others were\nso often drunk, it was a long time before I could find the suitable\nopportunity to go to their cabins and have a talk with them, as I\ndesired. As some of their company were so boisterously furious, the\nchildren did not dare pass them unless I was with them, for in addition\nto cursing they were stoned.\n\nWhen the second term was two-thirds through I proposed a picnic for the\nschool and its friends, and had the scholars declaim a few pieces. An\neloquent speech delivered in the House of Lords, when immediate\nemancipation was discussed in the English parliament, was well\ncommitted and declaimed by one of the young men. A number of the\ncolored people feared a mob, but the majority were willing to risk any\nmeasure I thought best to adopt. I trained them thoroughly in speaking,\nand they trained themselves in singing, and the school selected a\nlittle girl to be crowned as their queen of May, and on the 25th of May\nwe marched through town to a grove, with two beautiful banners. The one\nborne by the young woman who walked by my side bore the motto, \"God is\nlove,\" and next to it all the girls followed in couples. Then followed\nthe young men and boys in the same manner, headed by the banner, upon\nwhich was inscribed, \"Knowledge is power.\" I instructed the children\nand young people to walk straight forward, and not even turn their\nheads to the right or left, and not to notice by look or word any\nremark that might be made, not even to talk to each other until we\nreached our little stand in the woods. Not a word of disrespect was\nheard, and some of the white people who drove out with their carriages\ntold me they had not seen such order in marching in any of the May\npicnics that the white schools had had that Spring. They were highly\ndelighted with our exercises. At the next session of the board my\nschool was recognized as a public one, and the chairman, Rev. Dr.\nSmyth, was authorized to hire me to teach the next term. He met me on\nthe street and said, \"Mrs. Havilland, the importunate widow's prayer is\nanswered; your petition is granted at last, and I am instructed to hire\nyou for the next term.\"\n\n\"Then my work is finished with this term,\" said I. \"My object is\naccomplished. I have business at home that I hoped to have entered upon\nwhen I closed last term; but as your board refused to do its duty I\ncontinued, although I have not averaged twenty-five cents a week during\nthe six months, as a large majority of the colored people here are very\npoor.\"\n\n\"I know that, and I have contended from the first that they ought to\nhave a school; but I am surprised at your not remaining in the school,\nas you shall have a fair compensation now.\"\n\nI told him I would give him the name of a competent teacher, who was\nnow working himself through college at Oberlin--John Mitchel--a worthy\nChristian young man of their own color, with whom they could correspond\nand secure his services. His parents were living in Toledo, and he\nwould be pleased to accept the position. I thanked the board through\ntheir chairman for the favor they had granted in behalf of the colored\npeople in Toledo.\n\nIt being the seventh day of the week, as I was passing my Irish\nfriends, and all quiet, and a company sitting on the grass in the shade\nof their cabins, I accepted this as my long-sought opportunity to talk\nwith them. Addressing a group of half a dozen women, I said: \"I have\nlong desired to talk with you, as I am confident you do not understand\nme in teaching this colored school. I have felt it my duty to aid the\nmost neglected class of people. We are apt to indulge in prejudices\nagainst certain classes or nations of people. Some people are\nprejudiced against the German people. They'll say he's nobody but a\nDutchman, he's not worth noticing; and others are prejudiced against\nthe Irish, and will say, 'They are nobody but Irish people, they are\nnot worth noticing;' and others are prejudiced against black people:\n'They are nobody but negroes, and they are not worth noticing. And then\nthere are some who are prejudiced against soldiers, or sailors, as\nclasses of men. People are too apt to despise other nations and classes\nof men. All this is wrong; God made us all as it pleased him, and it is\nnot for us to find fault with our Heavenly Father, who loves all the\nhuman family alike. As we acknowledge the fatherhood of God, we should\nalso acknowledge the brotherhood of man in all nations and classes.\"\n\nSaid one man to his friend sitting by, \"In faith, Pat, that's good\ndoctrine.\" \"Yes, indade, that's the doctrine Father Mathew prached, ye\nknow.\" \"Jamie, that's all right,\" said another. One of the women\nconcluded she would know the truth of the reports they had gotten up\namong themselves.\n\n\"An' did ye not marry a nagur?\"\n\n\"Why, no! my husband was a white man, who died a number of years ago.\"\n\n\"And was he a black man?\"\n\n\"He was a white man, and he left me with eight children, all under age,\nand the youngest and the oldest have followed their father.\"\n\n\"In fath, ye've seen a dale of trouble, I'm sure; and we heard that\nblack man we often saw comin' from schule with ye an' that yellow lass\nan' boy was your chilther.\"\n\n\"That mulatto girl and boy live near my boarding-place, and they\ngenerally come and go with me to school and return; and that black man\nis a young man who has never had the privilege of going to school and\nlearning to read and write and the use of figures, until I opened this\nschool. Now he can read, write, and can use figures to good advantage.\"\n\n\"But it's a pity we didn't know ye before. We've been hearin' all this\nabout ye, an' not a bit of it true. Our people was about to set fire to\nyour schule-house--in faith, they said they'd give ye a dressin' of tar\nan' fithers, an' our praste forbid it.\"\n\n\"I knew nothing of that,\" said I; \"but I wanted you to understand me\nbefore I left, which will be in four weeks. Then they will have a fine\nyoung colored man from Oberlin College to teach their school.\"\n\n\"But what a pity that is, for I'm sure they'll not get another such a\ntacher as you. Indade, I'm sorry to hear you're to lave us; I'd like to\nhave my little gal go to your schule, if ye'll take 'er.\"\n\nThe man who was the systematic curser came to his door: \"Indade,\nmissus, we didn't know ye; an' now we'll fight for ye, an' we are sorry\nwe didn't know ye for so long.\"\n\nWhen I left them I shook hands with them all, for by the time our\nconversation closed about all their little community had convened, and\nI took occasion to speak highly of Father Mathew, the great temperance\nreformer of Ireland; and my little congregation pronounced as strong\nblessings upon me as they had curses. Even my systematic curser was\namong my best friends after that, and my scholars, as well as myself,\nwere treated with the utmost respect ever after, and two of them sent\nfor me when very sick and not expected to live, one of whom died a few\ndays after. As she was in great distress of mind, I read to her some of\nthose precious promises of our Savior, from which she drew great\nconsolation. It would seem to many like casting pearls before swine to\nturn aside to present the truth to such ignorant and disliking people,\nbut it is ours to obey these little impressions, and leave the result\nwith the All-wise Director.\n\nDuring my work in Toledo I called on a colored woman to solicit a\nlittle change for a very sick man who was very low with consumption,\nand was being cared for by a very poor family, and as she gave me\ntwenty-five cents a beautiful white girl was sitting by, who gave\nanother quarter. After school I called again and inquired for that\nyoung woman who gave for that sick man, without giving me time to ask\nfor her mite, and to my surprise, found she was an inmate of a house of\nill-fame, and tried to make Mrs. Buck promise not to tell me where she\nwas living; for if I knew it I would never speak to her. I sent for her\nto meet me the following day after school, at her house. I found her\nsitting in the parlor waiting for me. As I took her by the hand,\nplacing the other on her head, I said, \"My dear girl, you are an\nunhappy child.\" And she burst into a flood of tears, and as soon as she\ncould sufficiently command her feelings to relate her history I found\nshe was compelled by her stepfather to live away from home. She had\nlived a year or more with a worthy woman, who kept a boarding-house in\nCleveland; and there came to board a few weeks a fine appearing young\nman, who professed great affection for her, and proposed marriage. He\ntold her his father was a very wealthy merchant in Toledo, and he was\nthere on business for his father. After he had won her affections he\nproposed to take her to Toledo, and place her in a boarding-house until\nshe could make up two rich silk dresses and other clothing suitable for\nher, as he was not willing his folks should know he was marrying a poor\ngirl. He could easily take a dress pattern from each bolt of silk and\nhis father never know it, and any other goods she needed. As his father\nwas going to New York for a new supply of goods, he would supply her\nwith other goods to make up until his father's new goods came, then he\nwould hire a dressmaker to make up her silk dresses. All this she fully\nbelieved, as from a true and faithful lover, to whom she had given her\nheart's best and purest affections. She said, \"A number of days I\nhesitated, because I wanted to tell my mother all about it, but he\npersisted in leaving Cleveland secretly, and return on our bridal trip\nto surprise my mother and that cruel stepfather. At last I foolishly\nconsented, to my ruin and sorrow, for I haven't seen one moment of\npeace since I was deserted by that man;\" and again bathed herself in\ntears. Recovering herself, she continued, \"I wouldn't have my mother\nknow this for the world. She is a good Christian woman. She's a\nMethodist, and has seen a sight of trouble with my stepfather; and, if\nshe knew this, it would break her heart.\" On further inquiry I found he\nbrought her to this house as an excuse to keep her secluded until they\nwere about to be married, when he would pay her board a few days in the\nfinest hotel in the city. \"The next day after our arrival he brought me\na beautiful lawn dress-pattern and a package of other material for me\nto make up while waiting for his father's goods. And not till then had\nhe offered in word or act any thing amiss from a perfect gentleman. It\nwas the next day after our arrival in this city, and to this house,\nthat he proposed to live two weeks as if we were married, as it would\nbe about a week or two at longest when the goods would be here, and he\nwould get one of two dressmakers to prepare me for my wedding. I cried\ntwo days over this proposition, and by this time I had learned the\ncharacter of this house. Here I was, a stranger to every body, but\nstill had confidence in my new friend; and again, to my bitter sorrow,\nI yielded. But day after day of anxious waiting passed until two weeks\nexpired, and no new goods yet, but another lawn dress-pattern came for\nme to make for myself, and another two weeks rolled away with only\nhearing (he said) that the goods were on the way. But at the close of\nthe third two weeks he was missing. Daily I waited his coming. At\nlength I went on the street. I inquired for his name and the name of\nhis father's store, when, to my utter astonishment, no such store or\nnames were found in the city. Here in a strange place, deserted,\nruined, and filled with shame, I had no heart to go to my friends.\" She\nhad been here six months. I advised her not to remain in this house\nanother twenty-four hours.\n\n\"But what shall I do? Mrs. Cassaday will lock me up if she knows I am\ngoing to leave her. She called me a fool for giving you that quarter;\nshe says these Christians are down on us; and if any of us should die,\nthere wouldn't one of them come to pray for us. I told her I believed\nyou would,\" I told her to pack her trunk, and if she was down town near\nthe time for the boat to leave for Cleveland, to call a drayman to take\nher trunk to the boat and follow it, if possible, before Mrs. Cassaday\ncame in. I told her how to manage in going to her old employer, and to\ntell her you were deceived by that young man, but you found him\nuntruthful. \"As you say Mrs. Cassaday kept you sewing most of the time,\nyou can tell her you were employed most of time in sewing; but do not,\nat present, tell her or your mother of the life you have lived, and\nplace of your residence while here.\" She promised she would gladly take\nmy advice, and leave for Cleveland the first opportunity. As we parted\nshe leaned her head upon my shoulder, with fast dropping tears, and\nsaid, \"I shall always thank you for acting the part of a mother in\nhelping me away from this horrible place.\" The following morning she\ncalled to leave word with Mrs. Buck, that fortunately for her Mrs.\nCassaday was out just in time for her to call a drayman, that had just\ngone with her trunk to the boat, and she was now on her way to\nCleveland, happier than she had been in six months, and that she should\ndo, in all respects, as I had advised. Here was a beautiful girl\ndecoyed and led from the paths of virtue by an artful, designing, and\nlicentious young man, who basely sought her ruin by winning the\naffections of an innocent girl. Hundreds and thousands of these girls\nare in like manner led astray, and might be saved if mothers in Israel\nwould take them by the hand of sympathy and lift them from the mire of\nthis moral pollution.\n\nAt another time a request was left with my hostess to go to see a very\nsick woman, who was thought nigh unto death; but for a little girl that\nheard the request I should not have received it. She said, these poor\nwhite trash would curse me in health, and when they thought they were\ngoing to die, they were ready then to send for me to pray for them;\nand, as I was tired enough to rest after teaching all day, she did not\nthink I ought to go for their calls. I told her if she would be so kind\nas to deliver all errands of that character I would be very thankful,\nand hastened to the bedside of an old soldier of the cross, who, with\nher aged companion, were visiting their children. She said she did not\nexpect to remain much longer in this world of checkered scenes; but her\nson had been here a short time only, and had not formed any\nacquaintances among Christian people, and their hired girl said \"she\nwas passing your school-house one morning and heard you opening your\nschool with prayer, and I told her to find your boarding-place, and\nleave word for you to come after your school closed, as I wanted to\nhear the voice of prayer once more.\" I read a chapter and offered\nprayer by her bedside. She and her weeping husband and children thanked\nme for the call, and desired me to call the day following, after\nschool. I found her somewhat improved, and the next door neighbor said\nDutch Mary was in the adjoining room, and seemed much affected, and\nsaid that was the first she heard read from the Bible in seven years,\nand the first prayer she had heard in that time, and she would be glad\nto see me, but she would not disgrace me by coming to her house. Then\nthe woman told her she would ask me to see her in her room, and send\nfor her when I came to see the sick woman.\n\nI met her in great distress of mind. She told me of the wicked life she\nhad spent during the last seven years of her widowhood, and wanted to\nknow if I thought there was any hope whatever for her. \"Do you think\nGod can forgive me? I have never so much as opened my Bible that lies\nin the bottom of my chest all these seven years, until yesterday I went\nhome and took my Bible for the first time to read in these years; and I\nfelt so condemned after I read awhile that I laid it back, and didn't\nknow whether it was of any use; for I have lived such a wretched life\nso long I doubt whether God can forgive me, for I feel worse and worse.\nDo you believe he can?\"\n\n\"Certainly he is able to save to the uttermost. It is the enlightening\ninfluence of God's Holy Spirit that is showing you the exceeding\nsinfulness of sin.\"\n\nI read to her the readiness of the Lord Jesus to forgive sin. \"How\nready to bless the humble and contrite heart! Only believe this with\nall thy heart, and the blood of Jesus is sufficient to wash away every\nstain that sin has made. Though they be as scarlet, he will make them\nwhite as snow.\" We knelt together, and she too offered earnest prayer\nfor strength to live the new life, which she firmly resolved to do.\n\nI saw her a week later, and she said she informed those men with whom\nshe had committed those darkest of sins of her firm resolution to live\na virtuous life, and she locked her door; but they persisted in\ntroubling her through the night, threatening to tear her house down or\nburn it.\n\n\"Three nights I suffered from them. But by constant prayer, believing\nGod would take care of me, I was delivered from them. And I have plenty\nof washing, ironing, and house-cleaning to do; and I get along so much\nbetter than I expected I could. I do want to go to meeting; but so many\nknow of my wicked life I am afraid to go inside of a church.\"\n\nI told her to go to whichever Church she felt most at home, and the\nLord would open the way for her, and enable her to bring up her little\ngirl of eight years in the nurture and admonition of the Lord.\n\nAt the close of my school I left this field, so white to the harvest,\nto enter, as I supposed, upon a field of home missions. At the\nexpiration of a year I visited Toledo, and inquired of one who\noccasionally employed Dutch Mary, but knew nothing of my experience\nwith her, how she was prospering. The cheering reply was, \"Splendidly;\nI haven't heard a disparaging word of her for months, and there used to\nbe hard stories about her.\" I heard she had united with the Baptist\nChurch, and I think she is trying to live a Christian. If she had not\nleft town on a visit to her friends I should have seen her, but the\nreport I heard of her was heart-cheering. May God bless her, and all\nwho are receiving life-giving power who were dead in trespasses and sin.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\nFUGITIVES IN CANADA.\n\n\nWhile visiting friends in Detroit and Canada previous to reopening\nRaisin Institute, as I designed, I was earnestly solicited by Henry\nBibb, Horace Hallack, and Rev. Chas. C. Foote, the committee authorized\nto employ a teacher, to open a school in a new settlement of fugitives,\neight miles back of Windsor, where the Refugee Association had\npurchased government land, on long and easy terms, for fugitive slaves.\n\nThey had erected a frame house for school and meeting purposes. The\nsettlers had built for themselves small log-houses, and cleared from\none to five acres each on their heavily timbered land, and raised corn,\npotatoes, and other garden vegetables. A few had put in two and three\nacres of wheat, and were doing well for their first year.\n\nAfter prayerful consideration, I reached the conclusion to defer for\nanother year my home work, and enter this new field.\n\nIn the Autumn of 1852 I opened school, and gave notice that at eleven\no'clock the following Sunday there would be a Sabbath-school for\nparents and children, after which a little time would be spent in other\nreligious exercises, pursuing the same course I did in Toledo, Ohio.\nThis drew a number of callers who had no children to see if any could\ncome to my Sabbath-school; and when I told them it was for every body\nof any age who desired to come, my school-house was filled to its\nutmost capacity. Many frequently came five or six miles with their\nox-teams to attend these meetings, with their families. Every man,\nwoman, and child who could read a verse in the Testament, even with\nassistance, took part in reading the lesson, and liberty was given to\nask questions. It was not strange to listen to many crude ideas, but a\nmore earnest, truth seeking congregation we seldom find. An aged\ncouple, past eighty, missed very few Sabbaths during the year I spent\nthere. The man was a fugitive slave, and his companion was an Indian\nwoman, converted under the preaching of a missionary among the Indians.\nShe had taken great pains to talk and understand the English language,\nand was an interesting woman.\n\nAs there was an increasing interest both in day and Sabbath schools, I\ngive liberty for all who wished to enjoy a sort of class or inquiry\nmeeting, following half an hour's service for exhortation after Sabbath\nschool.\n\nOne couple desired a private interview with me, as they had been\nmarried only after \"slave fashion.\" They said \"It is not right to live\nthis way in a free country. Now we wants you to marry us.\"\n\n\"I am not legally authorized,\" I said, \"but I will send a note to\nbrother Foote, and he will come at once and marry you legally.\"\n\n\"We thought you preached, an' made notes for us, an' could help us out\nin dis matter too.\"\n\nCharles C. Foote came, and we called at their house at the appointed\ntime, with a few neighbors, to witness the solemnization of the\nmarriage that would have been accomplished three years before had they\nlooked at these things from the same stand point they now did.\n\nA few days after another couple came on the same errand. Said this man\n\"We wants you an' Mr. Foote to marry us, case we's bin troubled 'bout\ndis many days, case we wa'nt gwine to let nobody know it, but God knows\nall 'bout us, an' now we's free indeed, we wants every thing straight.\"\n\n\"But why do you put me with Mr. Foote,\" I asked, \"to marry you?\"\n\n\"Didn't you an' Mr. Foote marry dat brother an sister week afore las'?\"\n\n\"No; only brother Foote.\"\n\n\"Brother Foote repeated the questions,\" they answered; \"then he\npronounced them husband and wife; then they were married according to\nlaw. But he axt you to pray after he said dem words.\"\n\nIn all this ignorance they were like confiding grown-up children,\npatiently listening to every explanation.\n\nThe unbounded confidence they placed in me was surprising; for they\noften brought their business papers for me to examine, to see whether\nthey were right. One man brought me a note, as the employer could not\npay him for his work in money. He said it was a note for groceries; but\nthe grocer refused to take it, and said it was not good. I told him\nthere was neither date nor name to it. I wrote the man a letter, asking\nhim to rectify the mistake, which he did; but he gave his employee\ncredit for only half the days he had worked. They were so often\ndeceived and cheated in many ways, because of their extreme ignorance,\nthat I did not wonder at the conclusion one escaped fugitive had\nreached. His master was a Presbyterian minister, but he had known him\nto whip his sister, the cook, after coming home from Church; and he\nsaid then he never would have faith in white folks' religion. Since\ncoming to this colony he watched me a long while before he made up his\nmind that white people could have a pure religion. But now he believed\n\"that the Lord hid his Spirit in the hearts of white people at the\nNorth; but it was a make-believe in slaveholders.\"\n\nI was surprised one day to meet the mother of three of my scholars, who\ngave her thrilling experience in her escape from slavery; but she had\nlittle more than commenced her story before I found her to be one for\nwhom I laid a plan with her sister, who had bought herself. As I named\na circumstance, she exclaimed in surprise, \"Why honey! is dis possible?\nGod sent you here to larn my gals to read, an' we didn't know you,\" and\ntears began to drop thicker and faster, as she recounted the blessings\nthat had multiplied since her arrival in Canada. She had in the three\nyears worked for a little home. Her two older girls were at work, and\nthey were all so happy in their freedom.\n\nThese fugitives often came five or six miles for me to write letters to\ntheir friends in the South, with whom they left a secret arrangement\nvery frequently with white people who were their friends, but secretly,\nfor fear of the ruling power, as were the disciples of Christ who\nfeared the Jews. Their notes, or articles of agreement, were generally\nbrought to me to draft for them.\n\nIn six weeks of steady attendance fifteen young men and women could\nread the second reader, and write a legible hand, and draft a\nnegotiable note. I took a specimen of a number of my scholars'\nhand-writing to an anti-slavery convention in Cincinnati, Ohio, and\nleft a few with the Rev. John G. Fee, whose life had been threatened if\nhe did not desist from preaching a free gospel in his home\nState--Kentucky. But the brave Cassius M. Clay told him to go on, and\nhe would go with him. He went to one place from whence he had received\nrepeated threats, and trouble was anticipated; but Cassius walked into\nthe church by his side, and placed the Constitution of the United\nStates on the Bible, and over both his brace of pistols, with which he\ninformed the audience he should protect free speech. At the same time\nhe cast a glance at the threatening group in a farther corner, who left\none by one, until the church was cleared of all but eager listeners.\nBrother Fee said his object in requesting these specimens of the\nfugitives writing was to exhibit to those who were constantly asserting\nthat negroes could not learn. He wished them to see the legible\nhand-writing of those who had only six weeks' training from their\nalphabet.\n\nAfter spending a few days' vacation, I returned to the toiling day and\nnight in my school. As there were twelve heads of families anxious to\nread the Bible and hymn-book, and this seemed to be the height of their\nambition, I opened an evening school for that class. It was steadily\nattended four evenings in each week, and this, with one evening devoted\nto prayer-meeting, filled the week, leaving only one evening free; and\nfrequently they came with their ox-teams to take me three miles to lead\na prayer-meeting for them in an adjoining settlement.\n\nThe Winter was quite severe, and I frequently was awakened with the\nsnow sifting in my face, and not unfrequently found the snow half an\ninch or more deep over my bed on rising in the morning; but my health\nwas firm, and I often thought I never enjoyed a year of toiling better\nthan the one I spent here.\n\nThere were in this colony a mixed religious element--Baptist,\nMethodist, Presbyterian, and Free-will Baptist--deeply interested in\nSabbath schools and class-meetings, open to all who wished to enjoy\nthem. An organization was proposed. The proposition came from the\nMethodist element, but I did not deem it wise to organize from any one\ndenomination, as divergent opinions would create controversy that would\nbring harm to many tender minds. Consequently I proposed to organize a\nChristian Union Church, without disturbing the Church relationship of\nany one. I prepared an extract from Gerrit Smith's concise plan of\norganizing, on a liberal-scale, a Christian Union Church, with but\nlittle change, and read it to them; and, after a little discussion and\nexplanation it was readily adopted. I think the number of new converts\nwas thirteen, who expressed a desire to be baptized by immersion. I\nexhorted them to attend to their own religious impressions, as I was\nnot there to present particular religious tenets, but to present the\ncrucified, risen, and glorified Savior. Brother Foote came and complied\nwith their wish.\n\nI closed my evening school two weeks to hold a series of meetings, in\nwhich a young Baptist brother assisted. We all continued to work\ntogether for the highest good of all around us.\n\nI noticed a settled sadness in the countenance of a young man of\ntwenty-five years, recently from Missouri. During recess he took but\nlittle interest in any thing outside of his book or writing lesson.\nAfter attending my school a few days he invited me to go to his\nboarding-place to spend the night, as he wished me to write a letter\nfor him. I found his history was a sad one. He was sold from his wife\nand four little children to satisfy a heavy debt. The master tried to\nreason with him, and the man he owed would not take any of his slaves\nbut him. He called him aside to have further conversation concerning\nthe proposed sale; his wife presented herself also to plead that they\nmight not be separated. Both knelt before him, beseeching with tears to\nallow them to remain together. Said he, \"I tole 'im I'd serve 'im\nfaithfully all the days of my life, if he'd only let us live together;\nand he seemed to give way a little, and said he did not want to sell\nme, as I was his foreman, and he thought he would make other\narrangements. I watched him closely as I had but little confidence in\nhis words, and armed myself with a dirk. One day he called me to go to\nthe woods with him, to show me the trees he wanted chopped. As I was\ngoing I saw the end of a rope under his coat-skirt. I kept at a\nreasonable distance all the way, and when we came to the tree he wanted\nI should chop, he attempted to come near me and I stood back; then he\ntold me plainly I must yield. I said I never would permit myself to\nleave my family, and, if he was so determined, I should never be of any\nuse to any one, for life to me was of no value if I am to be taken from\nmy wife and four little children. At this he, with the other man, who\ncame out of the bushes, ran towards me, but I outran them. About seven\nmiles distant he overtook me with a number of his slave men, and told\nme I had to give up. I flourished my dirk and told them that I would\nkill the first man that touched me, or they should kill me. At this\nthey all stood back except the master himself. He flourished his\nbowie-knife and I my dirk, for the space of a few minutes, when he made\na rush upon me, and he met my dirk before I met his bowie-knife. As he\nfell back I ran for the woods. In the darkness of the night I made my\nlast visit to my wife and little children.\"\n\nHere he became convulsed with weeping. When he could command his\nfeelings to pursue the sad story, he said:\n\n\"Oh, that was an awful parting! The moment I entered my wife's cabin\nshe threw her arms around my neck, exclaiming, 'Oh, my dear Bill, don't\nstay a minute, for they say you've killed Master Riggs. They say he was\ndyin' this evenin', and he's dead afore this time, I reckon, an' they\nswear vengeance on you. Some said they'd chop you in pieces--some said\nthey'd burn you alive.' I told her if God would help me to Canada I\nwould write after awhile to her father (he was free, having bought\nhimself), and may be he could manage to send her and our children to\nme; and I tore her arms from my neck.\"\n\nAgain he was overcome with grief. I advised him not to write at\npresent. I never saw a more grief-stricken man. He was boarding with\nHenry Bibb's mother, who said she knew he was a man of deep trouble,\n\"for he looked so sad and groaned so much nights; but I couldn't bear\nto ask him, because I thought it would be harder for him to forget it.\"\nHaving been a slave herself, she could easily anticipate the cause of\nhis sadness. Notwithstanding this, he made fair progress in reading,\nwriting, and arithmetic in one term. During this time vigorous efforts\nwere put forth for his capture.\n\nWhile I enjoyed my work so much with these people in the woods, in\nschools, in meetings, and in their improvements generally, I do not say\nI found with them perfection. There were causes for reproof as well as\nof encouragement. They made great effort to improve their homes by\ntaking trees from their woods to the saw mills to be cut up into boards\nfor better floors than split logs, and for partitions to make their\nlittle houses more comfortable. Perhaps their improvements could not\nfind better expression than the report of one of our neighbors, in\nreply to an inquiry of a friend in Detroit, as to how they were\nprospering in their refugee colony, \"Fine fine we've all come to life,\nan' are in a state to see who'll make the bes' house.\"\n\nFrequent arrivals of their friends from slavery often produced much\nexcitement. At one time a company of twenty seven arrived, brought by\nJohn Fairfield, a Virginian. He often went into the heart of slave\nholding States and brought companies away, passing himself as their\nowner until they reached a free State. He telegraphed some friends in\nWindsor, and a dinner of reception was provided in one of the colored\nchurches, and a great jubilee meeting was held. One very old woman,\nbetween eighty and ninety years old, shouted as she jumped around among\nthe people, \"I's young again. Glory! glory! Jesus is our Master for\nevermore, honey,\" shaking hands with the new-comers. \"Glory to Jesus!\nI's sixteen,\" and she clapped her hands as she gave another leap. Said\nJohn Fairfield, \"This pays me for all dangers, I have faced in bringing\nthis company, just to see these old friends meet.\"\n\nOur young brother Campbell, the literate Baptist minister who had\nlabored with us in our series of meetings a few months previously,\nreturned, and with the three Baptist families in that community\nconceived the idea that as I was soon to leave, they could organize a\nBaptist Church, and induce nearly all in that colony to unite, and they\nwent to work industriously to secure the individual consent of our\nChristian Union members; but the plan was, with one accord, rejected,\nexcept by our Baptist friends. As they said nothing to me concerning\nit, each day brought some complaints about their organising a Baptist\nChurch \"over our heads,\" as a number expressed themselves. But I told\nthem \"not to feel hurt over their desire to organize a Baptist Church.\nWe will give way for them to occupy half the time.\" Brother Maglothin,\nwho had just come with his family from Virginia, was an earnest\nChristian man and a licensed Wesleyan minister, and he was ready to\ntake my place in keeping up our Sabbath-schools and meetings.\n\nRev. N. P. Colver, of Detroit, had appointed the Sabbath to meet the\nfriends in our school-house, for the purpose of organizing a Baptist\nChurch and of ordaining brother Campbell to take charge of it. I told\nall of our people to be sure and attend it with me. As I retired on the\nnight previous to the proposed meeting, I read the sweet promise of the\nloving Savior, \"I will be with you to the end,\" with an assurance of\nentire trust.\n\nThe hour arrived, and our house was well filled, but with many saddened\nfaces. Brother Colver gave a short discourse, and ordained brother\nCampbell, who was left in charge of the Baptist branch of the little\nflock. At the close of the exercises I remarked that I hoped we would\nall manifest the same abiding interest in each other's spiritual and\ntemporal well-being as we had heretofore done; that there was a fair\nunderstanding between the brethren and sisters that every other Sabbath\nwas to be occupied by brother Maglothin, thus alternating with brother\nCampbell; and as the next Sabbath would be my last for the present with\nthem, it would be my duty to explain the basis upon which our Christian\nUnion Church was organized. My earnest and constant prayer was and ever\nwould be, whether present or absent, that the love of the Lord Jesus\nChrist would ever dwell richly in each heart of his followers in that\ncommunity, with whom I had spent a year that I could class with the\nmost pleasant of my life.\n\nThe following-Sabbath found our house well filled. After singing an\nappropriate hymn, and prayer, I read 1 Corinthians iii, with remarks;\nafter which I read the license from the Wesleyan Methodist Conference,\nacknowledging a qualification to preach the Gospel of our Lord Jesus\nChrist. In it was granted liberty to organize a company of believers\ninto a Church; and I presented our articles of agreement to build each\nother up in the unity of the Spirit and in the bonds of peace,\nregardless of name, in this \"Christian Union Church.\" To this we all\nassented without a jar, and some of our Baptist brethren present voted\nin favor.\n\nAt this their minister, arose with an acknowledgment that he had not\nunderstood the foundation of this organization before, and regretted\nvery much what he had said against it, and would ask pardon of all\nthese brethren and sisters and of myself. Before I had an opportunity\nto reply their deacon and another followed, asking pardon for what they\nhad said, for now they saw the wrong. I replied that if feelings had\nbeen hurt by whatever had seemed unkind, they were now healed by the\nsame love and unity that had so universally prevailed in our little\nband, that had given courage and strength all through the year. Here\nwere sad faces brightened; and others followed me, manifesting the\nhealing power of love. The Lord was in our minds reconciling to\nhimself, and melting away every apparent root of bitterness.\n\nI left them again united, but our little Baptist organization lived\nonly till their fourth meeting. From their own choice it was\ndiscontinued; and, as the majority in that community were of Methodist\nproclivities, it has never ceased to be of that family name, being a\nfew months after reorganized under the auspices of the Methodist\nEpiscopal Church.\n\nI had, previous to leaving this field, written to William Anderson's\nwife, Maria, directed to her father, and dated in Adrian, Michigan, and\nI instructed letters from her to be sent to that city in my care. Soon\nafter my return a letter came from her father, as William had directed.\nI opened it, and found the very plausible plan of bringing William's\nwife and four children to him. Her father wrote of the loss of his own\nwife; and as the size and color of Maria answered to the description of\nhis own wife, as recorded on his manumission papers, he proposed to\ntake Maria and the children a few miles away in the night, where they\nwould be kept secreted until the excitement of hunting for them was\nover, when he proposed to take them a night's journey northward. By\nthat time he hoped that he could travel openly, with his free papers. I\nreplied as William requested, in his name, and forwarded both the\nletter and a copy of my reply to him, with a renewed caution for him\nnot to cross the Detroit River, as it was possible that all these plans\nwere devised by his enemies, instead of the father-in-law and his wife.\nThey had desired him to meet them on their way, and also inquired for\nnames of places and persons who aided him, for the purpose of passing\nthrough safely to some point where they could meet to part no more\nuntil death itself should separate them. I wrote him to wait patiently\nthe result, and not allow himself to become too much elated over this\nplausible plan, for I had written \"that there were many friends who\nassisted him, whose names he had forgotten, neither could he call to\nmind the names of the many places he passed through, for he was taken\nfrom place to place in haste. They, too, would find no lack of friends;\nand if they brought his family to Adrian, Michigan, and inquired for\nMrs. Laura S. Haviland, a widow, they would learn where he could be\nfound.\"\n\nNot many days elapsed before the answer came in the person of a\nSoutherner, accompanied by Mr. Warren, of Detroit, with my letter in\nhis hand and with the statement that I would know the where abouts of\nWilliam Anderson. He said his family had arrived in Detroit with his\nwife's father and that they were in the family of a colored minister by\nthe name of Williams.\n\nI told him I was acquainted with the Williams family, and was very glad\nto hear of the arrival of William Anderson's family, over whom he had\nbeen very anxious, and inquired when they came.\n\n\"Yesterday, about four o'clock,\" was the reply. \"There seems to be\nquite an interest in the family by the white people. Mr. Hallack gave\nme five dollars to pay William's fare to Detroit to meet his family, as\nI volunteered to come for him. And here's a letter he sent to his\nfather in law, you can read for yourself.\"\n\nI took it, and as I opened it recognized the letter I wrote for him.\n\"Yes, this is all right, it is the letter I wrote for William.\"\n\nBeginning to appear quite nervous, he said \"You see in that there is a\nstatement that you would know where he's at work, and,\" taking out his\nwatch, \"I see we'll have to hurry to get to Adrian by train time and if\nyou'll be so kind as to tell me where to find him as they are very\nanxiously waiting for us, I shall be obliged to you. It would be a\ngreat disappointment if we should fail to reach Detroit when the next\ntrain goes in.\"\n\nHe walked to and fro across the room, first to the door, then to the\nwindow, in a hurried, excited manner, while I was purposely detaining\nhim to see him tremble. I was quite satisfied that he was a bogus coin\nby the index of his face. When I told him, at length, that he was\nworking in Chatham, Canada West, and that I wrote this direction to\navoid any possible scheme or plot to return him to hopeless bondage,\nhis face reddened and voice trembled as he replied \"I don't know any\nthing about it, only what Mr. Hallack told me. That is every thing that\nI know in this matter.\"\n\nI told him what Mr. Hallack had informed him was all right, and he\ncould tell him to send the family on the first train from Windsor to\nChatham, and they would meet William there. He bowed, \"I thank you;\"\nbut looked as if his words very much misrepresented him.\n\nBy the time he was out of sight I had my horse and buggy ready, to\nfollow him to Adrian, to telegraph Horace Hallack and George De Baptist\nto forward a dispatch to William Anderson, Chatham, Canada West, to\nleave that city without an hour's delay, as I was satisfied his enemies\nfrom Missouri were after him, and probably would take him as a\nmurderer. The telegram was sent, and he obeyed its request.\n\nWithin two days my caller was there, inquiring for William, and was\ntold by a number that he had been at work in town some time, but left a\ncouple of days before, but knew not where he went. After a few days'\nsearch and inquiries in that town, he returned to Detroit, and for the\nfirst time called on Horace Hallack to inform him that he was in search\nof a colored man by the name of William Anderson, who was a free man,\nthat had committed in the State of Missouri a cold-blooded murder of a\nBaptist deacon, for the paltry sum of five dollars, and he understood\nhe had been quite recently in Chatham, Canada, but had left that city.\nHe, would like advice as to what course to pursue to ascertain his\nwhereabouts. Horace Hallack referred him to George De Baptist, who was\nwell acquainted with leading colored men in many localities both in\nCanada and this side the river.\n\nOur Missourian was now in good hands, as I followed my dispatch to them\nwith a long letter, giving William Anderson's experience in detail.\nGeorge De Baptist told him if he had been a slave, he would have taken\nevery measure within his reach to protect him in his freedom.\n\nBut as he said he was always free, and such a high-handed murderer as\nhe represented, he would go just as far to bring him to justice. \"I\nwill tell you what I will do; I will write to an intelligent colored\nman in each of the largest settlements of colored people, Chatham,\nAmhurstburg, and Sandwich, and will receive replies from each within\nfour days, and I will give you the result of their inquiries.\" At the\ntime appointed the Missourian returned for tidings.\n\nSaid George, \"I have received answers from each letter, and from\nAmhurstburg and Sandwich they write they have known or heard nothing of\na man by that name; but the man to whom I wrote in Chatham has known\nall about him, being well acquainted with him, and he writes that\nWilliam Anderson had been talking of going to Sault St. Marys, and that\nhe left two weeks ago, rather mysteriously, without telling him or any\none else where he was going; but the greater probability was he went\nthere.\"\n\nHe gave the letters to him, to read for himself. Consequently he hired\nMr. Warren and another man, and took the trip to Sault St. Marys, where\nhe spent a week inquiring for William Anderson; but he failed to get\nthe least clew to his whereabouts, and returned to Detroit. He left a\npower of attorney with his friend Warren to arrest him in case he could\nbe decoyed over the Detroit river; if that plan did not succeed, he was\nto telegraph him if he found his whereabouts in Canada. If these plans\nfailed, he left directions to arrest me with a United States warrant.\nBut about the time I was to have been arrested Mr. Warren, the man who\nwas empowered to arrest me, died with cholera--a singular coincidence.\nMr. Warren's brother expressed deep sorrow and regret to find the\npapers granting legal authority to transact such business in his\nbrother's possession at the time of his death. He allowed George De\nBaptist to see them before they were destroyed. This was the second\ntime cholera defeated my arrest.\n\nPursuit was still continued for William Anderson. Three years after I\nfell in company with D. L. Ward, attorney of New Orleans, in a stage\nbetween Ypsilanti and Clinton, Michigan. He was making some complaints\nabout the North, which drew forth a few remarks from me. \"Oh, I am glad\nI've got hold of an abolitionist. It is just what I have wished for\never since I left my home in New Orleans. Now I want to give you a\nlittle advice, and, as it will cost you nothing, you may accept it\nfreely, and I hope you will profit by it; and that is, when you\nabolitionists have another Sims case, call on Southern legal gentlemen,\nand we will help you through. We would have cleared Sims, for that\nFugitive slave Law is defective, and we know it, and we know just how\nto handle it.\"\n\n\"Why did you introduce a defective bill?\"\n\n\"Because we made up our minds to bring you Northerners to our terms,\nwhether it was constitutional or not, and we have done it, because we\nknew we could do it; not because we cared for a few niggers; for I say,\nif a nigger cares enough for freedom to run for it, he ought to have\nit. Now we knew that was an unconstitutional thing before we put it\nbefore Congress; but we put it there to let you know we could drive it\ndown Northern throats, and we did it, too.\"\n\n\"I acknowledge,\" I replied, \"that there is too much servility in our\nNorth; there is too much crouching and cringing, but I am prepared to\nsay there are more than seven thousand that have never bowed the knee\nto your Baal of slavery, and never will. We never shall do homage to\nyour Southern goddess, though you may cry loud and long in demanding\nits worship. You say if we have another slave case, if we come to you\nto help us through, you will do it, and that if a slave wants his\nfreedom bad enough to run for it, you think he ought to have it?\"\n\n\"Yes, madam, we will aid you, for we know just how to handle that\nthing.\"\n\n\"Supposing a man is about to be sold from his family, and he falls at\nhis master's feet, and pleads in tears to remain with his family, and\npromises to serve him faithfully all the days of his life, if he will\nonly permit them to remain together; but the master persists in the\nsale; the slave makes his escape; is overtaken by his master, yet,\nseverely wounding him, he succeeds in gaining his liberty. Now what do\nyou say in regard to this supposed case?\"\n\nLooking me full in the face, he asked my name, which was given. Said\nhe, \"I think I am acquainted with that case. Is it not William\nAnderson, a runaway from Missouri?\"\n\n\"William Anderson's case is very similar to the one I have described.\"\n\n\"Oh yes, madam, and you are implicated in that affair, but as you are a\nlady I will not disturb you; but you are liable to great difficulty in\nthat case, and I will tell you we are going to have Anderson by hook or\nby crook; we will have him by fair means or foul; the South is\ndetermined to have that man, and you'll find your House of Refuge will\nnot protect him either.\"\n\n\"This is the way I perceive you Southern legal gentlemen will help us.\nBut you will never get Anderson from Canada. Your determination will\nfail.\"\n\n\"We shall not fail, but I will tell you after I return from our\nfilibustering tour, as we am going out next month. We are confident of\nsuccess in that, too, for our fleet is in good condition. We shall then\ntake Anderson, if not before, and let you see how much your House of\nRefuge will do to hold that man from the South.\"\n\nI never heard from D. L. Ward from that day. I had written previous to\nthis interview to the governor-general, Lord Elgin, of the first effort\nto retake him as a murderer. He replied that, \"in case of a demand for\nWilliam Anderson, he should require the case to be tried in their\nBritish court; and if twelve freeholders should testify that he had\nbeen a man of integrity since his arrival in their dominion, it should\nclear him.\" This information, however, I did not reveal to our Southern\nlawyer.\n\nThree years later, in which time I had succeeded in finishing my Raisin\nInstitute building, and reopened the institution in charge of a\nprincipal from Oberlin College, the sad tidings reached me that William\nAnderson was lodged in jail in the city of Toronto, under charge of\nmurder committed in the State of Missouri. He was awaiting his trial,\nand Gerrit Smith was one of his legal advisers. I wrote immediately\ninforming him of the previous efforts to search out his whereabouts,\nand that his pursuers at that date (1853) alleged that he was a free\nman, and had never been a slave. In reply, Gerrit Smith wrote:\n\n\"I am glad you have given me so much of his history. Poor Anderson! I\nvisited him in jail. I will send you my speech in his behalf. I hope\nthe friends will purchase his family. I have volunteered to do all I\ncan for the poor man. Lord Elgin is removed; the present\ngovernor-general is a stranger to this case. God bless you.\n\n\"I am truly your friend, GERRIT SMITH.\"\n\nA few days later, I received the thrilling speech of Gerrit Smith, like\nthe man, full of pure and soul-inspiring thought; but I trembled with\nfear when two of the three judges were in favor of returning William\nAnderson to the State of Missouri, and that Riggs the claimant was\nliable to succeed; but through the efforts of his friends, and the\nopposing judge, the case was appealed to a higher court, and William\nAnderson was sent to England, where he remained in safety until the war\nopened, in which time the case was adjusted in his favor. The Missouri\nagent, Riggs, failed, and the friends of liberty rejoiced.\n\nThree young men fled from Daniel Payne, Kentucky, and succeeded in\nreaching Canada, where they had proven themselves worthy of their\nhard-earned freedom. A few months elapsed, and their master came for\nthem, and tried to hire them to go back with him, promising to make\nover to them manumission papers as soon as they returned. But he failed\nto inspire Alfred and his two brothers with confidence in his promise\nof freedom and fair wages for their work. He then secured the aid of a\ncolored man to invite them to a dancing party in Detroit a few days\nafter, but the boys mistrusted that their old master had the handling\nof this invitation, and did not accept it.\n\nAs they had been annoyed two weeks by the various plans of \"Master Dan\nPayne,\" they concluded the next time he gave them a call to appear more\nsocial, and gave their plan to forty or fifty of their friends, who\nwere to lie in ambush near the old barracks, where one of the brothers\nwas to have a chill, and appear too sick to go over the river. But two\ndays passed before the opportunity arrived that enabled them to carry\nout their plan. When Alfred informed the ex-master of the illness of\nhis brother, of course he must hasten to the sick boy with a nice\nbrandy-sling for the chills, and he purchased a good quantity for them\nall. While he was handing a glass of sweetened brandy to the sick man,\na company of men rushed in and held him, while Alfred and two brothers\nstripped him of his coat, vest, boots, socks, and pants, and tied him\nwith a rope in the same way the master had tied their mother, when he\ncompelled her to be stripped, and tied her with his own hands, and\nwhipped her until the blood ran to the ground. Alfred and his brothers\napplied dexterously the slave-whip, which they had provided for the\noccasion by borrowing a plantation slave-whip kept by Henry Bibb as a\nreminder of his slave life. Daniel Payne begged heartily for mercy.\nAlfred replied: \"Yes, this is just the way my mother begged for mercy;\nbut you had no mercy for her, and this is to show what she received at\nyour cruel hands.\" They applied the lash until the forty stripes their\nmother had received at his hands had been given. Then they unbound him\nand gave him fifteen minutes to dress and leave Canada, and gave him a\nquarter to go with, keeping his watch and purse, which contained about\nforty dollars. He crossed the river within the given time, and sent an\nagent to call on the authorities, to whom he entered a complaint of\nbeing robbed of a gold watch and one hundred dollars, but made no\ncomplaint of the whipping. He affected to be too lame \"with rheumatism\"\nto return to his Kentucky home for a number of days, in which time the\nboys returned his watch, but kept the money. Alfred and his brothers\nsaid Mr. Payne was as untruthful about the amount of money as he was in\ncalling his old silver watch gold. Suffice it to say, the young men\nwere never after troubled or annoyed by Daniel Payne, of Kentucky.\nAlthough it was a course I would never have inaugurated, yet it was\nlargely in human nature to requite the cruelties heaped upon their\nmother when it was beyond their power to protect her.\n\nWith very many pleasant remembrances, I left this laborious field of\nlabor for home work, where I spent nearly three years looking after the\nbest interests of my children, and making preparations to reopen Raisin\nInstitute, for the moral, intellectual, and spiritual improvement of\nour youth.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX.\n\nRESCUE OF SLAVES.\n\n\nA family of six left their old Kentucky home in search of freedom. A\nyoung wife who was sold had made her escape three years previously. I\nnoticed a stranger passing through my gate, and as he was a mulatto, I\nwent out to see where he had gone. I found him sitting in the porch,\nwaiting to see some one of whom to inquire whether he was at the right\nplace. He handed a paper directed to me by an under-ground railroad\nticket agent, who informed me there were six fugitives in his company.\n\"Then there are six of you?\" I asked; \"and where are the balance?\" \"My\ntwo brothers are back a-ways,\" he replied, \"'cause we's feared it\nwasn't the right place.\"\n\nBeing assured all was right, he went back for them. They had left their\nmother, with her two little grandchildren, in Carthaginia, until the\nboys could find a safe home for them, but they knew not whether they\nshould go on to Canada or find the object of their search short of that\nplace. They heard in Carthaginia that Michigan was the last place she\nhad been heard from, and that was a short time after passing through\nthat town. They were directed to me as being most likely to know the\nwhereabouts of the young wife. They had been in my home a number of\nhours before the elder brother dared make the inquiry. I noticed the\nfrequent heavy sigh and sad countenance, and I thought he was probably\nvery anxious over the safety of his mother, and I assured him that she\nwas in good hands, for I knew them to be true friends. While he\nassented, yet all my words of encouragement did not seem to cheer him,\nwhile the two younger brothers were happy. I went through my usual\ncourse of giving them new names. As they left that entirely with me, I\ngave as the family name Koss, and their given names Benjamin, Richard,\nand Daniel. But I came to the conclusion that the older brother was\ntroubled over some friends he had left behind. At length, in a half\nhesitating and trembling manner, he ventured to ask if I knew any thing\nof a colored girl by the name of Mary Todd.\n\n\"Certainly I do,\" said I; \"and did you know her?\"\n\n\"Yes, ma'am,\" was his reply.\n\n\"Do you know whether her husband was sold? She worried a great deal\nabout him.\"\n\n\"No, they talked of selling him lately.\" Then, after a pause, \"She\nisn't married again, is she?\"\n\n\"Why, no, she is a very steady, nice young woman. Every one in the\nneighborhood where she lives takes a great interest in her. Perhaps you\nare acquainted with her husband; why don't he come? He promised to\nfollow her as soon as he could.\"\n\nWhile his countenance lit up with joy, I had no suspicion of who he was\nuntil he said, \"I am the man. I am her husband.\"\n\n\"Why didn't you tell me that before?\"\n\n\"I was 'fraid of bad news if I got any.\"\n\n\"Afraid she was married?\"\n\n\"Well, it's been mighty nigh three years, an' I couldn't go for a long\ntime off the plantation, after she left.\"\n\nAs she was twelve miles from our school, and by this time it was nearly\nnight, I hastened to inform brother Canfield, a Wesleyan minister, that\nthe older brother of these fugitives was Mary Todd's husband. \"Is it\npossible,\" he asked, \"that Mary's husband has come at last?\"\n\nSoon, quite an excitement was produced in our neighborhood over the\narrival of Mary Todd's husband. The next morning brother Canfield took\nhim in his buggy to meet his wife and little son he had never seen; and\na time of great rejoicing was in the whole neighborhood. As they were\nmarried after slave style, brother Canfield solemnized the marriage\nlegally. The minister said we all forgot the black skin, when we saw\nthat couple fly to each other's arms. Surely,\n\n  \"Skins may differ, but affection\n   Dwells in black and white the same.\"\n\nMary had lived most of the time in the family of Fitch Reed, of\nCambridge. They soon had a home for their mother, with her two little\ngranddaughters, and were all happy, industrious, and highly respected.\n\nOne of the common trials of life, to mar our happiness in our\nfamily-like institution (February 23d) was the listless waywardness of\nsome of our dear students, in a determined purpose to attend a dancing\nparty under the guise of an oyster supper. How many delusive snares are\nlaid to entrap and turn aside the youth into divergent paths. We found\nit necessary to suspend eight of our students for the remainder of the\nterm. It is a painful duty of the surgeon to amputate a limb, yet it\nmay be an imperative duty, in order to save the life of the patient,\nand restore the body to health.\n\nThis evening a very remarkable fugitive slave came from Tennessee. He\nhad been five weeks on the way, in which time he had slept but one\nnight, having traveled at night and buried himself in hay and straw in\nbarns in the day-time to keep from perishing with cold, and to avoid\ndetection. He says six years ago his wife and child were sold from him,\nwhich caused him days and nights of bitter tears. He then firmly\nresolved to make an attempt to gain his freedom by flight. He was\ncaptured in Illinois after a severe struggle. He showed us four\npistol-ball holes in the arm he was most dexterously using in his own\ndefense, and two large scars which he said were gashes made at the same\ntime with a Bowie-knife, which enabled his enemies to capture him.\nAfter they secured him in jail he was advertised in papers, which his\nmaster saw, and came and took him back, and caused him to be whipped on\nthe bare back until the flesh was so badly torn that he was compelled\nto lie on his stomach four weeks. During this time he was not able to\nturn himself. After recovering his master put him in the iron works, of\nwhich he was proprietor. \"If I hadn't been one of his engineers he\nwould have sold me instead of giving me that awful whipping that he\nthought conquered me; but he was mightily mistaken; for it only\nimbedded in my heart a more bitter hate than ever. I appeared contented\nand performed my work well. After a few months, he said one day, 'I've\nmade you a good boy, Jim, and now I'll let you go to the big city with\nme.' I was very obedient, but he little knew of my determination to\nleave him as soon as I could make sure work of it. That is the reason I\nwould not make friends with white people till I found Michigan, for we\nhave heard that people in this State are friendly to us, and that it is\nnext to Canada.\"\n\nAs this man was above mediocrity as to intelligence, his two days stay\nwith us had a salutary influence over our school. He could not be\nprevailed upon to rest longer, as he could not be easy until he reached\nVictoria's dominions. His clothes were made comfortable, and I called\non a few friends for a little pocket change, and sent by him a little\nnote to the next station, where he was aided on to Canada.\n\nOur Spring term opened with fair prospects. A number of our students\nwho were suspended last term returned to us, they said, to redeem\nthemselves, and they were as good as their word.\n\nDuring our long vacation I attended an anti-slavery convention in\nCincinnati, where I met a white slave man from Little Rock, Arkansas,\nwho left his home in the night and by morning took public conveyance as\nany other white man would. On reaching Cincinnati he found friends of\nthe slave to whom he revealed his condition. Levi Coffin advised him to\ngo with me to Michigan. As he was in greater haste than I was, he\nproposed to go on at once. Consequently I wrote a letter of\nintroduction to my friends, requesting them to furnish him with work.\nIn two weeks I returned and found my young friend, Charles McClain,\n(for that was the name I gave him in Cincinnati) at work with a friend,\nwho said it was a pity that I had introduced him as a fugitive slave,\nfor they would not have believed it if the statement had not come from\nme.\n\nHe came to our school and improved very much upon what he had picked up\nfrom the white children who were going to school, and by the aid of a\ncolored minister who could read and write, and by that means could read\nin the second reader and write a little. He was often seen in tears,\nand was very anxious to have his sister with him, who was as white as\nhimself and, like him, had straight auburn hair, blue eyes, and perfect\nCaucasian features, without a vestige of African descent that could be\ndetected. A deep sympathy was enlisted in his behalf. He was very\nanxious to convey intelligence to that sister of the ease with which he\neffected his escape, and that she too could free herself as easily. A\nnumber of the friends offered to aid, and one friend placed thirty\ndollars in my hands to bring about this result. I wrote to a colored\nminister in Little Rock, who replied, with a graphic account of their\nrejoicing at his success, and of his sister Ann's anxiety to come to\nhim, but that she had no means. Charles wrote to her that he would send\nmeans with instructions. As I had for many years had a great desire to\nsee more of the system of slavery in its own territory, as so many\npeople of the North were insisting upon our exaggerations, and that we\nwere judging the majority of slave-holders by the few unprincipled men\nwe had seen, I concluded to become the bearer of this message.\n\nWith a well-defined plan of the streets and houses I left my home, in\nconfidence that the God of Daniel would return me unharmed. After a\nlittle visit with my dear friends, Levi and Catharine Coffin, in\nCincinnati, I resumed my journey. I felt a little disappointed at the\nleaving of a through boat an hour earlier than reported. Levi said,\n\"Perhaps thou'lt find it's all for the best,\" and so it was. For the\nsecond day after leaving Cincinnati the vessel was burned and sunk,\nwith great loss of property, and many of the passengers were seriously\ninjured, and some fatally. As I soon after passed the wreck of\npartially burned furniture floating near the shore, and some hauled out\nlying on the bank, I was thankful for the disappointment.\n\nAt Napoleon I left the boat for another to go up the Arkansas river,\nand waited at the best hotel in the place, kept by the widow Reeves.\nShe was probably a fair specimen of Southern women. The appearance of\nthe people made me feel as if I was out of these United States. There\nwas quite a company waiting to go up or down the river. Among them were\nsix or eight young people--Colonel Thompson with his son and daughter,\nwhom he was taking home from their school in Helena, Arkansas, and a\nyoung Dr. Jackson, who was very talkative and filled to over-flowing\nwith affectation. With a twirl of his little cane, and half-bent bow,\nin a simpering manner he addressed the four young ladies sitting on the\nsofa before him:\n\n\"How did you rest last night, ladies?\"\n\n\"Quite well, I thank you.\"\n\n\"Indeed, I am very happy to hear it, for I did not. I was dreaming all\nnight of shooting and stabbing, and I had an awful time. I suppose it\nwas owing to the awful time we had when I was here last over a nigger\nfight, or rather a fight over a nigger. It seems he had started to run\naway and they overtook him here, and he fought like a tiger. He had\narmed himself with a six-shooter, and I tell you he made the bullets\nfly lively, and they shot him before they could catch him. He shot one\nman dead and wounded two or three others, and I was called upon to\nextract a ball from the shoulder of one man.\"\n\nDuring this conversation, and much more not recorded, I was writing a\nletter home, directed to a friend in Covington, Kentucky. There was an\nunderstanding, while in Cincinnati, that Levi Coffin was to take my\nletters from our Covington friends, and mail them home.\n\nTo my great relief, the small boat, \"Rough and Ready,\" came in, and was\nto leave for Indian Territory, up the Arkansas River, in two hours; but\na large boat was going up the next day. I went on both to see what they\nwere, and I found the large boat looked more like an old slaver than a\ncivilized craft, and made my choice without making known the reason.\nThere was in the hotel an old lady going on the large boat, and she\nurged me to accompany her, and a young woman was going on the \"Rough\nand Ready,\" who was anxious I should go with her, as she was alone, and\ngoing to her mother in Little Rock. The old lady said she was alone,\nand was going to her daughter, and asked Mrs. Reeves to intercede in\nher behalf. \"Now, Mrs. Smith, I'll make a bargain with you. There is a\nrich widower on the big boat, and he's got lots of niggers and money.\nI'll give him to you if you'll go on that boat; and, I tell you, he's\nrich as Croesus.\" I had to enter somewhat into these familiarities, and\ntold her I would not think of being so selfish as to take him from her.\n\nI finished my letter-writing, and her Pomp was told to take my satchel\nto the boat with the young woman. There were Colonel Thompson and son\nand daughter, who made themselves quite too familiar to be comfortable.\nI soon noticed the captain seemed quite disconcerted, and made many\nexcuses. His cabin help were set to cleaning and setting things in\norder, and his cook sent ashore for nuts, candies, and fruits. We\nhardly had started when Colonel Thompson charged me with being a\nreporter for some periodical. I assured him of his mistake.\n\nSaid he, \"I knew you were a reporter; and when Mrs. Reeves was urging\nso persistently to have a dance, I whispered to my young folks not to\nhave any thing to do with it, for you'd have us all in some newspaper.\"\n\nI told him I was writing a letter to my folks.\n\nSaid he, \"You need not think you are going to fool us in that way. I\nsaw you write a few minutes, then stop, and listen awhile to Dr.\nJackson and those young ladies, and then write again, then stop to\nlisten to Mrs. Reeves, and then write again. I told my children they\ncould see you had five or six pages for some paper; and you can never\nmake me believe that was all for a letter. Now, if you will answer one\nquestion I'll release you. Haven't you written an article for a paper\nsome time?\"\n\nI hesitated, for the next query would be, \"What paper? At length I\nthought of the note of correction I wrote for the Louisville _Courier_,\nwhile in that city, in behalf of Calvin Fairbanks, while he was there\nin prison. I finally told him I would not say I had never written any\nthing for a paper.\n\n\"Now, if you will pardon me, just one more question, and if you will\nanswer that I will be as good as my word, and trouble you no more on\nthat score. What paper have you written for? I would like to know\nwhether it was a Helena paper or any one in our State.\"\n\n\"No, not in this State,\" said I; \"I did write a little card for the\nLouisville _Courier_.\"\n\n\"Ah, yes, that's it; that is a good Democratic paper. I am acquainted\nwith the editor. I knew you were trying to cheat us all the while. I\nwish you would write an article for the Little Rock _Democrat_, If you\nwill I will send the editor a letter of introduction; and I know he\nwill pay you well for it.\"\n\nBut I declined, and was very much relieved when the Thompson family\nreached their home in Pine Bluff. Here I saw their slaves come to meet\nthem for their baggage. They urged me to stop with them and spend a\nweek or two, and they would take me out into the country to see some\nbeautiful plantations, as they had an excellent carriage driver. The\nyoung woman said \"Pa has owned him a number of years, and could always\nrisk us with him anywhere. Our plantation is not a very large one, as\npa has always had a store on his hands, but there are some very large\nand beautiful ones beyond us.\"\n\nA sense of relief came over me as I saw them leave the boat, and we\nwere the next day landed in Little Rock. Being after dark, I spent the\nnight at the Anthony House. Before sunrise I was at the house of our\nfriends, who were greatly rejoiced, and sent for the minister, with\nwhom we consulted. After making all necessary arrangements, with the\nsigns fixed upon whereby I might understand when the expected boat\nwould arrive, whether any unfavorable indications were noticed, etc I\ninquired for a private and convenient boarding house where I could\nremain a few days waiting for tidings from a through boat. The family\nthey named happened to be where the young woman who came on the same\nboat with me was boarding, with her mother and brother in law, who was\nkeeping a tailor's shop. I inquired of this young woman and her mother\nif they thought I could secure board there a few days, while waiting\nfor tidings from a brother. They thought Mrs. Shears might not have a\nconvenient room for me but they would be glad to have me in their room.\nSoon the matter was settled. The son in law brought in sewing for his\nmother and sister in law, and I made myself useful by assisting them.\nThe mother, Mrs. Springer, had a nice shally dress for me to make, that\nshe said she couldn't have got made to suit her as well for eight\ndollars, and urged me quite hard to go in with herself and daughter in\nopening a shop for dress-making. I also did some sewing for Mrs.\nShears, who also became quite social.\n\nMrs. Shears was very cruel to her slaves, and complained of the\nindolence of Jack, a boy of twelve years. \"But I haven't got him fairly\nbroke in yet. Don't you think, after I paid eight hundred dollars in\ngold for that nigger, and set him to shell a barrel of corn, he spent\nall that day in doing nothing? I was just ready to go away, when a\nnigger-drover brought a few he had left, and said he'd sell cheap, as\nit was the last he had on hand. He wanted nine hundred; but I told him\nI'd give him eight hundred in gold, and at last he concluded to take\nit. Well, as I told you, I set him to shelling on that barrel of corn,\nand I don't s'pose he shelled a dozen ears after I was gone. Don't you\nthink, that nigger spent all that day in bawling after his mother--a\ngreat booby, twelve years old! He might have some sense in his head. I\ngave him one dressing, to begin with; for I found he'd got to know who\nwas master. I've had him six weeks, and he isn't hardly broke in yet.\"\n\nPoor motherless child! No doubt she too wept bitterly over the\nseparation; but no word of pity, or even a sigh of sympathy, must be\nallowed here. I must listen to this, and a great deal more, with\nstoical indifference.\n\nAs Mrs. Shears had more company than usual, she came to me one evening,\nand asked if I would take her daughter's bed in her room, shielded with\ncurtains, for the night. This was satisfactory to me. The following\nmorning, at gray dawn, the two little boys, Jack and Jim, came in with\nfire from the kitchen, with kindling. The mistress rolled out of bed,\nand took her heavy-heeled shoe, dealing blows upon their heads and\nshoulders, and said:\n\n\"How come you niggers till this time o' day in here to build fires?\"\n\n\"Aunt Winnie didn't wake us.\"\n\n\"I'll wake you up; here almost daylight, and not a fire built yet, when\nthese four fires ought to have been built an hour ago. And didn't wake\nup, ha? I'll teach you to wake up.\"\n\nAnd so she kept up the heavy blows, chasing them round and round the\nchairs, and the boys crying, \"I will get up early, missus; I will get\nup early,\" till it seemed to me an unreasonable punishment.\n\nJust as the two fires were going, and the little fellows went to light\nthe other two, the son, Joe Shears, came in.\n\n\"What are these niggers about, that these fires are not all going long\nago?\"\n\n\"O, they had to sleep this mornin'; they say Aunt Winnie didn't wake\n'em.\"\n\n\"I'll wake the young devils; I'll see whether they'll sleep till broad\ndaylight. It's their business to have these fires going an hour ago;\"\nand out he went.\n\nAt breakfast, I noticed Jim, the waiter, was missing, and Jack was not\nat his wood-chopping as usual. Soon after, as I passed through the rear\nporch, I saw the two little boys hanging, as I supposed, by their\nwrists, to a pole over the bay in the barn. The door was just opened by\nJoe Shears, to commence his day's work of whipping, as I soon heard the\ncries of one, then the other, alternating in stripes heard with their\ncries, by spells, until noon. During this time Joe Shears was sitting\nbefore the fire, playing cards and sipping his brandy between the\nwhippings. Whenever he was out the whipping and cries were heard.\n\nAt noon little Jim was let down, very hoarse from crying, and his eyes\nred and swollen. By his walk I knew the little fellow had suffered\nintensely. But the little wood-chopper was not at his post. Soon after\ndinner the lash was again heard, with the hoarse cry of little Jack;\nand each time Joe Shears sat down to his card-table I looked for Jack,\nbut after a game or two of cards he was out again, and the lash and\ncries resumed. I became so distressed that at four o'clock I took a\nwalk on the street, ostensibly to rest by exercise after a day of\nsewing, but really to give vent to tears that had been all day pent up,\nfor all appearance of sympathy must here be restrained. On my return I\nheard the battling of the paddle, with the cries of poor Jack, so\nhoarse that I could hardly have recognized it as a human voice had I\nnot known what it was. I got no glimpse of the poor child until the\nnext morning.\n\nAs the tailor, Joseph Brink, came in, the sister-in-law said, \"We ought\nto have a lamp or candle lit before this time.\"\n\nSaid the mother, \"We don't feel half thankful enough for this\ngrate-fire. Just think, Joe Shears has been whipping those two little\nboys all this blessed day, and I should think they must be half dead\nto-night.\"\n\n\"What have they done?\" said Joseph.\n\n\"I don't know; do you, Mrs. Smith?\"\n\n\"Yes; you know I slept in Mrs. Shears's room last night; and the boys\ncame in at nearly daylight with their pan of fire and kindling, and the\nmistress wanted to know why their fires were not all built before, and\nthey said Aunt Winnie didn't wake them. And she whipped them with her\nshoe quite a while; then Joe Shears came in, and swore at them, and\nsaid he would wake them.\"\n\n\"And that was it? Only think,\" said Mrs. Springer; \"you know Aunt\nWinnie was sick yesterday. And just because they hadn't these fires all\nbuilt before daylight they've had them tied up in the barn all day;\nthat cowhide Mrs. Shears keeps hung on her door-knob her Joe has swung\nover those two little niggers all day. I tell you, if the devil don't\ncatch such people there's no use of having a devil.\"\n\nHer son-in-law, in an undertone, said, \"Be careful; don't talk so loud,\nor it will make a fuss here.\"\n\n\"Well, I don't care, I am mad. I tell you, Joe, hell is lined this very\nminute with just such folks as these.\"\n\n\"Well, I think they are more cruel here than they are in Georgia.\"\n\n\"I've seen just such work in Georgia and in Alabama, and it's all over.\nI tell you, there's more in hell to-night for treating niggers this way\nthan for all other sins put together, and I know it.\"\n\n\"Be careful; they'll hear you, and it will make trouble. It's their\nproperty; it's none of ours.\"\n\n\"I don't care for that; they are human beings, and have feelings as\nwell as other folks. There's that little nigger, Bob, they've hired of\nDr. Webb, down street; they whip him and pound him about, and they'll\nkill him some day. And I think somebody ought to report to Dr. Webb how\nthey are treating that young nigger. He is a mighty nice-looking boy.\nHe is almost white, and they've got him all scarred up.\"\n\n\"Well, what of that? The doctor himself is no better. About three\nmonths ago his boy Tom was throwing wood in his cellar, and he did\nsomething he didn't like, and he kicked him down the cellar, then\njumped down after him and took a billet of wood and was pounding Tom\nover his head when two white men were passing by and saw the whole\naffair; and as Tom fell the doctor came up out of the cellar and went\ndown town and reported his Tom had a fit. But the two men went into the\ncellar after the doctor left and found him dead and his skull broken\nin. They reported what they saw and had a coroner's inquest over him,\nwho found that Tom came to his death by too severe punishment. They\narrested the doctor and put him in jail a few days, when his trial came\noff. The doctor was fined five hundred dollars, and he paid it and went\nfree.\"\n\n\"Yes, that is the doctor we've been sewing for, is it?\"\n\n\"Certainly.\"\n\n\"I tell you, hell is heaped with just such people.\"\n\nShe went on in that strain that reminded me of St. Clair's \"cursing up\nhill and down\" that almost frightened the New England old maid of\n\"Uncle Tom's Cabin.\" I trembled myself, expecting every moment that\nsome member of the family would hear her.\n\nTwo days later was washing-day, and the cook, Aunt Winnie, told her\nmistress she was too sick to do the very large washing for three\nboarders besides the family. I heard the mistress cursing her, and\ntelling her she could if she had a mind to, and charged her with being\nlazy.\n\nIn came her son Joe. \"What's all this fuss?\"\n\n\"O, it's Winnie says she's sick and can't do the washing this week.\"\n\n\"Sick! I'll see how sick she is,\" and he took up a billet of stove wood\nand commenced beating her over her head and shoulders, and swearing\nthat he would give her something to be sick for. Mrs. Springer called\nmy attention to the quarrel of Mrs. Shears with her cook before Joe\nShears came in. Then said she, \"Poor Aunt Winnie will catch it now,\nI'll warrant. There, just hear those blows; they sound like beating the\ntable; he'll kill her.\" And table, stools, and tin-pans or pails made\nracket enough for the whole kitchen to be falling down. The struggle\nwith a volley of oaths lasted a few minutes.\n\nMrs. Springer, up to boiling rage again, \"Hear that; what devils they\nare; don't you believe Aunt Winnie will die? Why, I can't hold still.\"\nIn as careless a manner as I could command I said, \"We can do no good\nby saying any thing. You know what your son said the other night.\"\n\n\"I know it; but there isn't a particle of humanity about them. I feel\nas if I want to pitch into the whole Shears family.\" Soon all was quiet.\n\n\"I believe Aunt Winnie is dead, don't you?\"\n\n\"I think not.\"\n\n\"I am going in there to see.\"\n\nAs she got up to go to the kitchen she took the pitcher for water.\nWhile she was pumping the water near the kitchen-door, Aunt Winnie\nstaggered to the door trying to wind a cloth around her bleeding head,\nand one eye was swollen shut. As she came in and reported how badly she\nwas bruised up, she wanted me to take the pitcher and go to the pump\nfor water; but I told her I would wait a little, for they might think\nwe went on purpose to see Winnie.\n\n\"Poor thing, I know she came to the door on purpose to let me see her.\"\nAnd Mrs. Springer could not rest satisfied until I drew the next\npitcher of water, when the poor woman reeled to the door with her hand\non her head and the cloth around it saturated with blood. I could not\nsleep a wink after the day of the unmerciful whipping of those two\nlittle boys. Again the night after this unmerciful beating of this poor\nwoman was spent in weeping, and prayer to Him who hears the cries of\nhis oppressed children.\n\nA few days after Aunt Winnie came to Mrs. Springer and asked her if she\nwould cut and make a green delaine sacque for her, and cut a calico\nskirt, as she could make that in the night, and charged her not to let\nher mistress see it or let her know she had it, because her husband got\nit for her and gave her seventy-five cents to get Mrs. Springer to cut\nit; \"for he is going to take me away three weeks from next Saturday\nnight, 'cause the people are so hard here; he says I shan't stay here\nany longer.\" \"I am so sorry for her, I told her to come in when her\nmistress and Joe Shears's wife are away making calls, and I would take\nher measure and cut and baste it: then for her to come in after they\nare all in bed and I would fit it and make it any time, keeping it\nunder a sheet I've got to make, and in that way I can keep it out of\nsight; and I told her you and my daughter will say nothing about it.\nSaid Winnie, 'I knows that by her face.' Do you know how quick these\nblack people read faces?\"\n\nWhile she was sewing on Aunt Winnie's sacque, Joe Shears's wife came\ninto our room a little while, and the daughter looked out the back\nwindow, where Jack was chopping, and said, \"I don't think your Jack is\ngoing to live long.\"\n\n\"Why? I'm sure he eats hearty.\"\n\n\"He looks so bad out of his eyes; I've noticed it a few days past, and\nI've noticed he sort o' staggers sometimes, and he don't talk natural.\"\n\nShe jumped up and looked at him and hastened to her mother in law's\nroom.\n\n\"Mother, Miss Springer says Jack is going to die.\"\n\n\"What makes her think Jack is going to die? I don't see any thing ails\nJack, he eats hearty.\"\n\nMiss Springer (laughing): \"I thought I'd scare her out. I wish I could\nscare them to death, so they would treat their niggers like human\nbeings.\"\n\n\"Well, you've got her out of the way long enough to get Winnie's sacque\nout of sight before our Joe comes in, for he's so mighty careful for\nfear we'll get into trouble; I know he'd scold if he knew it.\"\n\nStrange position I was occupying, here among the most cruel of\nslave-holders. And they were calling me a superintendent of the\nunderground railroad at home; and here was the starting-point on our\nunderground railway, but a silent listener, and in surprise, I said,\n\"Where can Aunt Winnie and her husband go? As you say, he is a slave.\"\n\"I don't know, but they do go somewhere out of the way of their owners,\nthough they keep up a mighty hunt for a long time; yet a good many of\n'em are never heard from; and I don't know where in creation they do\ngo, and I don't care, so they get away from these hyenas that have no\nmore feelings for their niggers than a wild animal, nor half as much. I\njust wonder sometimes that the niggers don't turn upon 'em and kill\nsuch devils. I know I would if I were in their places.\" \"Yet there are\nthose who treat their servants kindly,\" I replied. I felt sometimes as\nif I was compelled to be indifferent.\n\nMy friend passed the window at which I was engaged in sewing. After a\nfew moments I made an excuse to rest myself by taking a little walk, as\neach of us frequently did. I soon overtook this friend who informed me\nthat Ann wished to see me after her tea was over, when she would be\nreleased for a half hour to walk out on the back way with a free\nmulatto girl, who was her intimate and confidential friend, and I was\nto go in a large yard of shrubs and fruit trees where I was to meet\nthis friend who would call for Ann, with whom we were to take the\nproposed walk. At the appointed time and place I met the friend, who\ndirected me to stand in a place out of sight of the street, or little\ncabin, the home of her very aged and decrepit parents, who were\nworn-out slaves, and as I understood were given their freedom. Their\nslave-daughter was permitted to step in and do little chores for them\nafter her day's work was done.\n\nWhile waiting in this lonely and solitary nook, three large bloodhounds\ncame in sight. I remembered of hearing about their being let loose\nafter sunset, to reconnoiter the premises, and I called to mind what I\nhad heard and read in history, that however ferocious an animal is, a\nstern and steady gaze in the eye, by a human being, would disarm it of\nferocity, and cause it to leave. This course I resolved to pursue with\nthese three formidable enemies, that were already assuming a\nthreatening attitude, with a low growl, showing their teeth, with hair\non end--the leader as large as a yearling calf, the two following him\nslightly smaller. I fixed my eyes upon the sparkling eyes of the\nleader, that came within six feet and stopped; soon the growl ceased,\nthe lips dropped over the long tusks, the hair smoothed back, and he\nquietly walked off with his companions. Soon came the girl, all out of\nbreath: \"Did the hounds come to you?\"\n\n\"They did.\"\n\n\"Oh, dear! what did you do?\"\n\n\"I stood perfectly still,\" I answered, \"and looked in the eyes of the\nleader, and they soon became quiet and walked away.\"\n\n\"Oh, dear, that was the only thing that saved your life. If you had\nstirred a particle they would have torn you in pieces. I was so anxious\nto have Ann see you, I forgot the hounds until I started back, and I\nliked to have fainted, for I know they were awful. I liked to have\nscreamed out 'God have mercy on that dear friend,' for I was 'most sure\nI'd find you killed.\"\n\n\"Oh, no, the Lord has preserved me, and I am not harmed.\" She was so\nbadly frightened that it was some time before her voice ceased\ntrembling; but He who is ever present with his trusting children was\nthere.\n\nArrangements were made for Ann to go North, but if a word of suspicion\nwas heard, I told her she must defer going to a future time; that she\nmust go as her brother went, perfectly independent of any one, which\nshe was confident of doing; but she wished to go on the same boat with\nme, if no one else was going from their city. I learned through her\nfriend that she was overheard to ask a friend of hers for a shawl for a\njourney. I sent her word to abandon the idea of going then at once;\nthat I should take the first boat for home.\n\nShe did not obtain her freedom until after her mother's death, two or\nthree years later. I did not regard the trip lost, painful as it was.\nThere was on the boat a sad couple, taken from a number of their\nchildren by a young beardless boy, perhaps eighteen or twenty, small\nand slender. I noticed them frequently in tears. They were noticed by a\nfew of the passengers, who made remarks about the sad faces of those\nnegroes. Said one heartless woman, \"Look at that nigger cryin'. I don't\nsee what she's cryin' about; she's got her young one and man to her\nheels.\" I carelessly watched for an opportunity to speak with one or\nboth of these children of sorrow. As they sat on a pile of cable on the\nrear deck I caught the opportunity to inquire where they were going.\n\n\"We don't know; our young massa got to frettin', an' ole massa gib us\nto him and some money, an' tole him to go. We lef' three bigger chillun\nbehin'; never 'spects to see 'em ag'in; I wish he'd buy a plantation\nsomewhar, so we could go to work; 'pears like thar's no comfort for us\npoor people, only when we's got work, an' stops studyin' so much.\"\n\nAs the tears began to fall thick and fast, I took them by the hand and\ntold them Jesus was the friend of the poor, and he had many followers\nwho also remembered them in prayer. And he knew of their sorrow, and as\nthey went to him he would comfort their sorrowing hearts. Pointing to\nhis wife, he said, \"She knows that, and I wish I did.\" I charged them\nto make no mention of my having spoken to them. For while they were\nslaves, I was not free. This young man with his heavy-hearted couple\nleft our boat at Pine Bluff.\n\nSurely I had seen enough of slavery in its own household. Three weeks\nwas long enough to see and feel its virus. I met my old friends in\nCincinnati with a glad heart, where I could draw a free breath. I could\nvisit them but two days before I was on my way home, where were many\nglad hearts to listen in private circles to my experience in a slave\nState. More than ever they were convinced that the cannon and sword\nwould, at no very distant day, destroy the monster.\n\nOur institution was now in its second academic year, in charge of\nJoseph D. Millard, of Oberlin College. The stockholders had turned it\nover into my hands, making me sole-proprietor of the institution, with\nall its multiform cares and responsibilities. I had also frequent calls\nfrom fugitives in flight for freedom, whose claims were second to none\nother. But to see prejudice in our students melt away by an\nacquaintance with our work, richly repaid me for all my day and night\ntoiling and cares, that seemed almost crushing at times. I purchased\nfor the young men's hall a building that was erected for a water cure.\nThat project failed, and the building that cost $2,000 to erect, was\noffered for three hundred dollars for my institution. I moved it one\nmile, and repaired it with fifteen rooms; and it was well filled the\nfirst year. This academic year of our usual three terms our students\nnumbered over two hundred, mostly of those who had been teaching, or\npreparing themselves for teachers, or for a collegiate course. I served\nas preceptress, and was closely confined in school work. Realizing in a\ngreat measure the importance of molding the mind of youth for\nusefulness, these years of constant care passed pleasantly with the\nhundreds of young people of our own and adjoining counties.\n\nA colored man, with a farmer's bag swung over his shoulder, approached\ntwo men at work on the railroad between Palmyra and Adrian, and\ninquired how far it was to Michigan.\n\n\"You are in Michigan, you fool you,\" was their reply.\n\n\"Then, will you please tell me how far it is to Canada?\"\n\n\"You go to Adrian, about a mile ahead, and take the cars, and they'll\ntake you to Canada in two hours; or, if you haven't money to go that\nway, you can go up that road till you come to the Quaker meeting-house,\nand go direct east two miles to the Widow Haviland's school, and she\nwill tell you how to go to Canada, and it won't cost you any thing.'\nShe is a great friend to your people.\"\n\nHe soon found me. I got my supper out of the way, and my men folks out\nagain at their work. I then inquired who directed him to me, and he\ntold me \"two men six miles from this school said you was a frien' to my\npeople; an' I thought if folks knew you six miles off I would be safe\nto come to you, 'case I wants to go to Canada right soon. I started\nonce before, and traveled three nights by the North star; and as\nIndiana was a free State I thought I would stop and buy me some broad,\nan' the people was mighty kind, and said I could rest a week, and they\nwould pay me for the work I did, to help me on to Canada. But firs' I\nknew my master come for me, an' I seed him pay them money--s'pose 't\nwas reward.\"\n\nThis time he was so cautious that he would make a friend of no one\nuntil he reached Michigan. They had always heard people were friends to\ncolored people in this State. He was six weeks from Kentucky, and had\nnot dared to make his condition known to any one, white or black, until\nhe saw a colored man in the yard at Dr Bailey's, of whom he inquired\nfor my house. I told him that his coat and pants were too ragged, and\nthat I must repair them. As he had not a second shirt, I took one of my\nson's, and gave him a couple of towels, soap, and a pail of warm water,\nand told him to take off his coat for me to mend, while he went up\nstairs to the room over the kitchen to change his shirt. He hesitated\nabout taking off his coat, until I told him he must. \"I am not your\nmistress,\" said I, \"and yet you must mind me.\" Tears started as he\nslowly drew it off, when the torn and bloody shirtsleeves revealed the\nlong sears, and a few unhealed sores on his arms. Said I, \"Are these\nthe marks of the slave whip?\"\n\nHe nodded assent, while tears were falling.\n\n\"When was this done?\"\n\n\"Two nights afore I lef'.\"\n\n\"What was jour offence?\"\n\n\"Dis was what I got for runnin' off, an' I fainted, an' master dragged\nme in my cabin, and didn't lock me in, 'case I's so weak. I reckon he\nthought I's safe. But I got an ing'on to rub over the bottoms of my\nshoes so dogs couldn't foller me, an' I got four loaves o' bread and a\nbig piece o' boiled meat, an' crawled into de barn an' tuck dis bag an'\nbuffalo-robe for my bed, an' dragged it into de woods, and tuck my bes'\nfrien', de Norf star, an' follered clean to dis place.\"\n\n\"What did you do for something to eat?\"\n\n\"I tuck corn in de fiel'. When I foun' log heaps an' brush burnin' I\nroasted a heap to las' a few days; but I was weak an' trimbly to start,\nan' kep' so all de way.\"\n\nAfter this little history I made him take off his vest, which was also\nvery reluctantly done. But what a sight! The back of his shirt was like\none solid scab! I made him open his collar, and I drew the shirt off\nfrom his shoulders and from the appearance of the shoulders and back it\nmust have been cut to one mass of raw flesh six weeks before, as there\nwere still large unhealed sores. I told him he must sit here until I\ncalled in my son and son-in-law to see it. As they looked upon that\nman's back and arms, and walked around him, said Levi Camburn, my\nson-in-law:\n\n\"Mother, I would shoot the villain that did that as quick as I could\nget sight at him.\"\n\n\"But, Levi,\" I replied, \"he is not fit to die.\"\n\n\"No, and he never will be; and the quicker he goes to the place where\nhe belongs the better. Indeed, I would shoot him as quick as I would a\nsquirrel if I could see him.\"\n\nJoseph, my son, responded:\n\n\"I think Levi is about right, mother; the quicker such a demon is out\nof the world the better.\"\n\n\"I know this is a sad sight for us to look upon; but I did not call you\nin to set you to fighting.\"\n\nMany of my friends, and my son-in-law Levi, had thought me rather\nsevere in judging the mass of slaveholders by the few unprincipled men\nwho had fallen under my special notice; but I never heard of any remark\nwhatever from my son-in-law or neighbors, after this incident, that\ncharged me with being too severe in judging slaveholders. I furnished\nthe poor man with healing salve, and tried to persuade him to rest a\nfew days until he would be able to work; but no, he must see Canada\nbefore he could feel safe. He was very loath to sleep in any bed, and\nurged me to allow him to lie on the floor in the kitchen, but I\ninsisted on his occupying the bed over the kitchen. I gave him a note\nof introduction to the next station agent, with a little change; and a\nfew weeks after I heard from my friend, whose name was George Wilson.\nThe reporter said: \"The first two weeks he seemed to have no energy for\nany thing. But then he went to work, and quite disappointed us. He is\ngetting to be one of the best hands to hire in Windsor.\"\n\nThis was the second fugitive from slavery who slept in my home--mine\nbeing the first house they had dared to sleep in since leaving their\nold home. A few days later another fugitive came from Louisiana. He was\na black-smith. I wrote to a wealthy farmer in Napoleon, Michigan, to\nlearn whether he could not furnish business for one or the other of two\nnew arrivals from slavery. To show the feelings of thousands of our\ncitizens at this date, I will extract a portion of his letter:\n\n\"There are constantly in our moral horizon threatenings of strife,\ndiscontent, and outbreaks between liberty and slavery. The martyrdom of\nJohn Brown only whets the appetite of the monster for greater sacrifice\nof life. The continued imprisonment of Calvin Fairbanks and others are\nnot satisfying portions. I read your letter to our Arkansas friend, and\nwe are glad to learn that another has escaped from the land of bondage,\nwhips, and chains. In view of the wrongs and cruelty of slavery, how\ntruly may it be said:\n\n  'There is no flesh in man's obdurate heart;\n   It does not feel for man.'\n\n\"The natural bond of brotherhood is severed as flax that falls asunder\nat the touch of fire. Let the lot of bitter poverty be mine, and the\nhand of man blight every hope of earthly enjoyment, and I would prefer\nit to the condition of any man who lives at ease, and shares in every\nfancied pleasure, that the toil, the sweat, and blood of slaves can\nprocure. Alas for the tyrant slave-holder when God shall make his award\nto his poor, oppressed, and despised children, and to those who seek a\ntransient and yet delusive means of present happiness by trampling his\nfellow and brother in the dust, and appropriating the soul and body of\nhis own crushed victim to the gratification of his depraved appetites\nand passions. I would rather enter the gloomy cell of your friend\nFairbanks, and spend every hour of this brief existence in all the\nbitterness that the hand of tyrants can inflict, than live in all pomp\nand splendor that the unpaid toil of slaves could lavish upon man.\nYours, etc.,\n\n  \"July 27th, 1860.                R.B. REXFORD.\"\n\nOur blacksmith, whom we called Charles Williams, proved to be an honest\nand industrious man.\n\nWe solicited over seventy dollars for a poor woman by the name of\nJackson, from Marseilles, Kentucky, who had bought herself by washing\nand ironing of nights, after her mistress's work was done. During seven\nlong years she did not allow herself to undress except to change. Her\nsleep was little naps over her ironing board. Seven years of night work\nbrought the money that procured her freedom. She had a son and daughter\nnearly grow up, and to purchase their freedom she was now bending her\nday and night energies. Her first object was to purchase the son, as\nhis wages would aid her to accumulate more readily the amount required\nfor the daughter, as she had the promise of both of her children. But\nher economizing to purchase the son first for the sake of his help\nfailed, as the master's indebtness compelled him to sell one of them,\nand market was found for the girl of sixteen. Nine hundred dollars was\noffered, and the distressed mother had but four hundred dollars to pay.\n\nShe had trusted in her Lord and Savior in all these years of toiling,\nand now must she see that daughter sold down the river? In her distress\nshe went from house to house, to plead for a buyer who would advance\nthe five hundred dollars, and take a mortgage on her until she could\nmake it. At length she found a Baptist deacon who purchased her\ndaughter, and she paid him the four hundred dollars. He was to keep her\nuntil the mortgage was redeemed by the mother, who was compelled to\nabandon her first project, and bend her energies toward making the five\nhundred dollars. After working very hard one year, she was able to pay\nbut one hundred and fifty dollars to ward the mortgage, when her health\nbegan to fail. The deacon told her the money was coming too slowly, and\nthat he could not wait longer than another year, before he would have\nto sell her to get his money back. \"Weeping and prayer was my meat and\ndrink day and night. Oh! must I see my poor chile' go after all my hope\nto save her?\" A merchant in that town by whom she had been employed,\ntold her he would give her a little secret advice, which was, to go to\nLouisville as she had done before, but not to stop there, but to go on\nto Cincinnati, and he would give her a good recommendation to his\nbrother, Mr. Ketcham, who was a merchant and knew the abolitionists.\nThey would aid her in raising the three hundred and fifty dollars; but\nshe must not let it be known that he had advised her, or that she was\ngoing North. Mr. Ketcham introduced her to Levi Coffin and lawyer John\nJolliffe, who gave her letters of introduction to friends at Oberlin,\nand other places, and by the time she was sent to me she had over two\nhundred dollars toward the release of the mortgage on the daughter. As\nher health was poor from constant overwork and troubles incident to\nslave life, to give her rest I took her papers, and while calling on\nthe friends of humanity, did not slight some of my Democratic friends,\nsome of whom had some years previously told me if I would go to work\nand purchase the slaves they would aid me.\n\nConsequently I called on one who was living in splendor within his\nmassive pile of brick, and reminded him of the promise he made me on a\ncertain occasion. Now was his opportunity, as I was assisting a mother\nto purchase her daughter. I gave him the line through which I had\nreceived the best of endorsements as to her industrious and honest\nChristian character, and what the friends had done for her upon whom I\nhad called, and but for her poor health would have brought her with me.\nAfter listening attentively to all my statements, he arose from his\nchair, walked nervously to and fro across his room, as if striving to\nhis utmost to brace against sympathy, and said, \"Mrs. Haviland, I'll\nnot give a penny to any one who will steal slaves; for you might just\nas well come to my barn and steal my horse or wheat as to help slaves\nto Canada, out of the reach of their owners.\"\n\n\"Did I do right,\" I asked, \"in rescuing that Hamilton family from the\ngrasp of those Tennessee slave-holders?\"\n\n\"If I had taken a family under my wing, of course, I should calculate\nto protect them.\"\n\n\"That is not the answer I call for. I want from you a direct reply; did\nI do _right_, or wrong, in that case? You remember all the\ncircumstances.\"\n\n\"Oh, yes, I remember it well, and as I tell you, if I had undertaken to\nprotect a family I should do it.\"\n\n\"I shall accept no prevarication whatever,\" said I; \"I demand a square\nanswer, and it is your duty to give it; did I do right or wrong in that\ncase?\"\n\nHe drew out his pocket-book, and emptied it in my lap. \"There is hardly\na dollar, and if I had more you should have it; of course you are\nright, and every sane man or woman knows it; but my political relations\nare such I wish you wouldn't say anything about it.\"\n\nIt is no new thing for politics to stand in the way of humanity. A few\nweeks later the glad mother returned and redeemed her daughter. I saw\nthem together at Levi Coffin's, in Cincinnati, happy in their freedom.\n\nAnother woman was directed to me by William King, who, with Rev. C. C.\nFoote, had founded a colony a few miles from Chatham, Ontario, for\nfugitives from slavery. She managed to escape with seven children, and\nher husband's master offered him to her for six hundred dollars, two\nhundred dollars less than the market price. I went with her a few days,\nand received from the friends one hundred and thirteen dollars. Then\nthe sight of one whom she recognized hastened her back to Canada, a\nproceeding which probably saved us the fate of the Oberlin or\nWellington rescuers, who spent a few weeks in jail. A year after we\nheard the husband and father was with his family in Canada.\n\nA few weeks elapsed when another woman from Cincinnati learned that her\nhusband could be bought for a low figure because of a rheumatic\ndifficulty. She had been freed three years previously, and by industry\nhad accumulated three hundred dollars. She came well recommended by\nLevi Coffin and others. While making calls in her behalf in a store\nowned by a Democratic friend, upon presenting her claim to the\nproprietor and a few bystanders, a gentleman stepped into the door\nwith, \"I see you come to Democrats for aid.\"\n\n\"She knows her best friends,\" said our merchant.\n\n\"I slight no one,\" I answered. \"I call upon my acquaintances regardless\nof politics.\n\n\"I will give you _five_ dollars for every _one_ you'll get from an\nabolitionist in this place,\" said the sparkling, black-eyed stranger.\n\nAt this quite a shout arose in the store.\n\n\"That speaks well for your abolition friends,\" was the ironical retort\nof another bystander.\n\n\"Who is that gentleman?\" I inquired.\n\n\"Mr. Lyons, the banker on Main Street,\" was the reply.\n\n\"All right,\" I said, \"I shall remember him.\" I stepped into Edwin\nComstock's and mentioned this proposition.\n\n\"Very well; I will give five dollars for the sake of twenty-five\ndollars from Mr. Lyons,\" and I placed that in my book. I next met\nStephen Allen on the street and I told him Mr. Lyons's pledge.\n\n\"All right,\" he said; \"I will give four dollars, and that takes all I\nhave in my purse to-day; but I am glad to give it for the twenty\ndollars we are to get from Mr. Lyons.\"\n\nI called upon Anson Backus with my report and he said: \"Here is five\ndollars for the twenty-five from Mr. Lyons.\" I then stepped into the\nLyons's bank. \"This, I believe, is Mr. Lyons, the proprietor, who\npledged a few minutes ago five dollars for every one dollar I would get\nfrom an abolitionist in this place.\" His face flushed in reading the\nnames with the fives and four dollar bills in the book I handed him.\n\n\"There is no abolitionist's name here.\"\n\n\"Isn't Edwin Comstock an abolitionist?\"\n\n\"No, he isn't.\"\n\n\"Isn't Stephen Allen an abolitionist?\"\n\n\"No, he isn't?\n\n\"Isn't Anson Backus an abolitionist?\"\n\n\"No, he isn't.\"\n\n\"Then I ask you to define an abolitionist, for I call these men as\nradical abolitionists as we have in our country.\"\n\n\"Well, they are not.\"\n\n\"Please define them that I may know who they are.\"\n\n\"They are those who go down South and steal slaves away from their\nowners and report that they whip men and women and sell husbands and\nwives apart, and separate children from their mothers, and all that\nsort of thing, when it's all an arrant black-hearted lie.\"\n\n\"Mr. Lyons, you know all these flat denials are substantial truths. As\nyou say you have lived in the South, you know in your own heart that\nmen and women are cruelly whipped, and that families are separated, and\nthese cases of cruelty are neither few nor far between. I will tell you\nwhat I have done for a woman who was a slave in Kentucky when she came\nto me for advice in Cincinnati, as she had a daughter to be sold, and\nher mistress was going to sell the whole family down the river. She was\npermitted to do her mistress's marketing in Cincinnati because she had\nconfidence that she would not leave her family. I advised her to put\nher husband and children in that market-wagon and cover them with hay\nand bring them to a certain place I designated, and she would be aided\nin her flight to Canada. She took the plan I suggested, and her whole\nremaining family, nine in number, found themselves free in Canada. Was\nthat the work of an abolitionist?\"\n\n\"No, it isn't.\"\n\n\"Then I know not where to find one, for I see I too am out of the\ncatalogue.\"\n\nWhile this conversation was in progress he took three dollars from his\ndesk and handed it to me; but as much as ever, I stopped to thank him,\nand told him the worst wish I had for him was that he would repent of\nhis wicked position before the hour of death overtook him, and that he\nmight find peace and pardon for these Satanic assertions he had made.\nHe sat quietly listening while I gave out my indignation without stint.\n\"Hand me back that three dollars,\" and it was as freely returned as I\nreceived it. He put it back in his drawer, took out five dollars and\nhanded it to me, and hardly took time to nod \"I thank you\" for\nfinishing my speech, which was not in the least interrupted, even with\nthe increased subscription.\n\nPoor man, I pitied him, for it was more than a year before I could get\nanother opportunity to speak to him. His clerk left the bank as soon as\nhe commenced his tirade. Although it is unpleasant to meet with such\nspirits, yet I never flee from them. If my cause is owned by the author\nof the _Higher Law_, none of these things move me. A few months after\nthis we received a letter from Mintie Berry, the anxious wife, for whom\nwe succeeded in raising enough to reunite the long separated couple,\nsaying that their happy reunion was the result of favors from their\nmany friends, to whom they returned grateful thanks, while they praised\nthe Lord for the blessing.\n\nI received a letter, July 4, 1859, from poor Calvin Fairbanks. Eight\nlong years of the fifteen he had suffered in a Kentucky penitentiary.\nHow sad are these lines, containing some of his prison reflections! He\nsays:\n\n  \"Speak kindly, ye muses, my spirit inspire,\n   Breathe softly and sweetly, sweep gently my lyre;\n   There's gloom in my harp-string's low murmuring tone,\n   Speak kindly, speak gently, to me here alone.\n\n   My spirit all broken--no soul-cheering ray\n   To warm, and illumine my cold dreary way,\n   No kind and beloved ones of days that are gone--\n   There's no one to cheer me, I'm alone, all alone.\n\n   From friends fondly cherished I'm severed away,\n   From the hills where I laughed at the bright early day;\n   And the morning of life like an arrow is gone,\n   Like a shadow, a moment, and here I'm alone.\n\n   The guardians of childhood, like the bright early flower.\n   Have blossomed with fragrance, and are lost in an hour;\n   And the cycle that brought them has eddied and gone,\n   And left me behind them, alone, all alone.\n\n   How solemn and dreary, how somber with gloom,\n   Are my lonely reflections, of the cold silent tomb,\n   The abode of a father once fearless and bold,\n   Of a sister once lovely, now silent and cold;\n\n   Of a mother lamenting her lost, lonely son,\n   Awaiting awhile, but a day to be gone,\n   And to mingle with spirits of blest early love,\n   And to rest in the bosom of Jesus above.\n\n   The thought of these loved ones, now silent for aye,\n   Or lingering and trembling, and passing away.\n   Breathes sadness on nature, most cheerful and gay,\n   And traces these numbers--we're passing away.\n\n   But cease my complaining, we'll soon be at peace,\n   We'll rest from our labors, forever at ease;\n   There's rest for the weary and joy for our gloom,\n   For God is our refuge, in heaven our home.\n\n   Yes, earth with her pleasures, and all that we love,\n   We shall leave for the land of bright spirits above;\n   No blasting nor mildew, nor soul-blighting care,\n   No sorrow, no dying, no sin shall reign there.\"\n\nThe year 1861 opened full of excitement. Both North and South assumed\nthreatening attitudes. Raisin Institute was affected by it; yet the\nwork of the Lord prospered with us. Within three weeks fourteen of our\nstudents experienced the new spiritual life. But soon our ranks were\nbroken. The seventy-five thousand men in arms called for at the first\nby President Lincoln were not sufficient to suppress the slave-holders'\nrebellion. Seventeen of our students enlisted for the bloody conflicts\nof civil war.\n\nOur principal, F. M. Olcott, had purchased my institution, and I looked\nforward to a happy release of the $15,000 indebtedness that was resting\nover Raisin Institute. The room-rent was not sufficient to meet the\ninterest and other incidental expenses, and the tuition fees were\nrequired to pay the teachers. This indebtedness rested upon my\nshoulders. But for the salutary influence it exerted in molding the\ncharacters of our youth, I should have failed.\n\nThe declining health of our dear brother F. M. Olcott brought\nincreasing darkness over our future prospects, and the memorable battle\nof Bull Run increased the shock that startled the liberty lovers of our\nnation at the firing upon Fort Sumter. The cloud that hung over our\nnation also overshadowed our beloved institution. We closed this year\nwith sad forebodings. Our beloved principal was fast hastening to his\nreward. He suggested a friend of his to fill his position the ensuing\nyear, and died of consumption within six weeks of our vacation. He was\na noble Christian man, and had endeared himself to all who enjoyed the\nprivilege of his acquaintance. His loss was severely felt by his\nstudents, who enjoyed his faithful teaching, and especially by myself,\nas I had indulged the fond hope that he would become the efficient\npermanent principal.\n\nThe following year the institute opened with as fair prospects as could\nbe expected, in charge of Edward A. Haight. Until the third year of the\nwar our school was continued in successful operation. But during the\nlast term of 1863-4, when the war had taken seventeen of our noble\nyoung men into the field, and the condition of our soldiers, daily\nreported as suffering and dying in camp and hospital, called for tender\nnursing, I offered myself for that work.\n\nLeaving an excellent young woman as preceptress in my stead, I gathered\nfrom eighteen hundred to two thousand garments for freedmen, and\nhospital supplies for soldiers, and with papers from Austin Blair,\ngovernor of our State, from F. C. Beaman, member of Congress, and from\nothers, I left my sweet home and the loved ones who still clustered\naround it. On my way to the depot I was met by Rev. P. Powell, who\ninquired how much money I had. \"Fifteen dollars,\" was my answer.\n\n\"Why, Mother Haviland,\" he exclaimed, \"you can never go with only that.\nStop a day or two, and I'll get up eighty or a hundred dollars for you.\"\n\n\"But I have arranged for all my supplies to go on today. There are\nthree or four boxes waiting for me at Hillsdale, and I wrote them I\nwould be there to-night. I have not asked for money, but for supplies.\nI have a free pass to Chicago and return, and if I can get a pass free\nto Cairo and return, I think I can get along, and perhaps lives may be\nin peril in the twenty-four hours I might be waiting here for money.\"\n\n\"Will you telegraph me if you do not succeed in getting the passes in\nChicago?\"\n\n\"I will,\" I said, and went forward.\n\nAs I was taking leave of my son Joseph, and was about to enter the car,\nhe held me by the hand, and said: \"One promise I want you to make me,\nand make it so strong that your conscience will come in for a share;\nand that is, that you will stop, once in a while, to think whether you\nare tired or not. You are going among the suffering and dying, and I\nknow you so well that you will go and go and do and do, until you will\ndrop before you will think of yourself. If you will make me this\npromise I will feel a great deal better about you.\"\n\n\"Joseph,\" I said, \"I will promise to do this,\" and we parted.\n\nOn visiting the sanitary rooms in Chicago I met Mrs. Hague, Mrs.\nLivermore, and others, who thought it very doubtful whether I could\nsecure a fare free to Cairo, as President Arthur had shut down the gate\non free, or even half-fare, passes. He had told them that associations\nmight pay their agents enough to pay their fare. But I was under the\nauspices of no association. I was only a self-constituted agent, and I\nmust try. Leaning on the arm of my guide, I went to President Arthur,\nand introduced myself by handing him my papers. On reading them he\nasked, rather sharply, \"What do you want?\"\n\n\"I am hoping to obtain a free pass to Cairo and return,\" I replied,\n\"and free transportation for the supplies referred to in those papers.\"\n\n\"Are you alone, madam?\"\n\n\"I am alone.\"\n\n\"Well, I think this is a heavy responsibility for a lady of your age.\nAre you aware of the responsibility you assume in this?\" holding the\npaper up.\n\n\"I think I am aware of the responsibility. I do not know but the\nexperience of age, however, may somewhat make up for the strength of\nyouth.\"\n\n\"Well, I guess it will.\"\n\nSettling himself back in his easy arm chair, he said again, \"How long a\ntime do you want it for?\"\n\n\"I can not answer intelligently,\" I said, \"I may wish to return for\nmore supplies, within two or three months, and I can not say how long\nit will take to disburse these supplies judiciously.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" and he took my papers to his chief clerk, and soon brought\nme back passes, saying, \"There are your passes, and they'll bring you\nback any time this year.\" He gave me also an order for free\ntransportation. I left his office praising God for another victory.\n\nI was met in the door of the sanitary rooms with \"Did you succeed in\ngetting a half-fare pass?\"\n\n\"A free pass to Cairo and return,\" I said, \"and free transportation for\nall my supplies from President Arthur.\"\n\nThe clerk clapped his hands, cheering: \"You are a favored one; not one\nof us would have got that favor.\"\n\nNot till then did they know of my leaving home with only fifteen\ndollars; yet it was sufficient.\n\nA few hours more landed me in Cairo, where the wharf was lined with\ncannon, and piles of shells and balls. My first work was to find a\nsoldiers' home, and visit hospitals. Oh, what scenes at once were\npresented to my view! Here were the groans of the wounded and dying\nsoldiers. Some were praying--a few were swearing; and yet even these\nwould patiently listen to reading the promises of Jesus and his loving\ninvitations, and become calm.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X.\n\nHOSPITAL WORK.\n\n\nOur last chapter left us in hospital world at Cairo. A portion of the\nfreedmen's camp of three thousand the officers proposed to remove to\nIsland No. 10, and wished me to take most of my supplies to that place.\nWhile waiting for their arrival I visited the United States Hospital at\nMound City, a few miles up the Ohio River. Here, too, were dying\nsoldiers, one of whom especially attracted my attention, as he was\nperfectly sane and rather unusually intelligent. I immediately\naddressed him: \"My son, are you prepared to go hence?\"\n\n\"Mother,\" he said, \"that is a matter which I ought to have attended to\nlong ago, but I did not, and now it is too late! I am dying.\"\n\n\"Oh, do not say _too late_! Remember the condition is, '_Believe_ and\nthou _shalt be saved_;' 'As thou hast _believed_, so shall it be unto\nthee.' These are the sure promises of our merciful Redeemer. Remember\nthe thief on the cross looked at him with repenting spirit and living\nfaith, and said, 'Lord, remember me when thou comest into thy kingdom;'\nand the quick reply was, 'This day thou shalt be with me in Paradise.'\nCan you not trust such a Redeemer?--such a loving Father as is our God,\nwho saves to the uttermost all who ask with believing hearts?\" He\nfirmly held my hand and said, \"I will try.\"\n\nOur prayers were mingled in asking for the enlightening of the Holy\nSpirit, and while he was asking for the forgiveness of all his sins,\nthat he might receive an evidence of acceptance, he seemed encouraged\nand gave me the names and address of his parents, for me to write them\nof his hope, in departing, of a better future.\n\nThere was also great suffering in the camp of freedmen. The officers\nwished me to aid them in persuading these people to go down to the\nisland, as they were afraid of being returned to slavery at the close\nof the war, and desired to push as far into the free States as\npossible, and very loath to go back \"an inch,\" as one of the officers\nexpressed it. I took the names of these almost nude people, whom I\ninstructed to come to my tent; as the officers said I should have one\nfor the purpose of giving out clothing to the most needy among them.\nThey assured them that their freedom was a fixed fact; that they would\nnever see the day again when they would be separated by being sold\napart. This, I found, has a greater inducement for them to consent to\nthe request of the officers to go to the island than all the clothing I\ncould promise.\n\nBut one poor woman came to the captain weeping, saying, \"My poor baby\nis dying' an' I can't leave him. He is my only child left me.\" In the\ngreat hurry and bustle of business the quick reply was, \"Go back and\nI'll see to it.\" As she left the office he turned to me and said, \"I\ndon't know whether it is so or not; they get up all sorts of excuses.\"\nAs she was not yet out of sight, I followed her to the slab hut and\nfound it true. An hour later and the baby of eight years was in the\nspirit world.\n\n\"Now, missus, I can't go an' leave my dead baby for de wharf-rats to\neat, an' de boat goes out at three o'clock.\"\n\nI reported the death of the child and of the distress of the mother.\n\"Tell her,\" said the officer, \"we will see that her child is buried\nthis afternoon, and I want her to go on this boat.\" I told the mother\nof the captain's wish, and that I would see that her child was buried.\n\n\"Ob, missus, it 'pears like I can't leave him so; they'll leave him\nhere to-night, an' dese wharf-rats are awful. Da eat one dead chile's\nface all one side off, an' one of its feet was all gnawed off. I don't\nwant to leave my chile on dis bare groun'.\"\n\nThe grief of this poor mother was distressing in the extreme. She knew\nnot whether her husband and three older children, sold away two years\npreviously, were still slaves or living, as she had never heard a word\nfrom them since they were taken from her. Those sad separations, she\nsaid, were much harder to bear than the death of this child. But she\nconsented to go, on my promise to see that her child was buried before\nnight. After she left for the boat I went to the captain to see his\npromise performed. He seemed very indifferent.\n\n\"What is the difference if that child shouldn't be buried this\nafternoon or whether wharf-rats eat it or not?\"\n\n\"You promised to have it buried this afternoon,\" I said, \"and I told\nthat poor woman I would see that it was done; and I see no other way\nthan to hold you to that promise, for I shall meet her on the island,\nand I must report to her.\"\n\nSaid the captain, \"You won't allow such things as these to break your\nheart, after being in the army a little while and seeing our soldiers\nburied in a ditch, with no other coffin or winding sheet than the\nsoldier's dress. For the time being we bury hundreds just in that way;\nand when from five to fifteen die in one day, as sometimes is the case\nin these large camps, we can not make coffins for them, but we roll\nthem up in whatever they have. If we can get a piece of board to lay\nthem on when we put them in their graves we do well.\" \"But here you\nhave lumber and plenty of carpenters, and you can have a plain coffin\nfor the dead, and I do hope one will be made for this child. As I told\nthe mother I would see that a coffin was made for her child and have it\nburied this afternoon, I will do it.\" He called the sergeant and gave\nthe order for a carpenter among the soldiers to make it, and I saw the\npine board coffin go to the burying ground with the child just before\nsunset.\n\nColonel Thomas and the captain doubted whether I could secure\ntransportation from General Taliaferro, who was in charge of that post.\nThey said he was a cross old bachelor, and had said he would not give\nanother woman transportation to go into the army. \"But,\" said Colonel\nThomas to the captain, \"she will be more likely to succeed if she goes\nherself without any word from us.\"\n\nOn the following day my car-load of supplies arrived, and I began to\nregret that I had not waited a day or two longer at home for the one\nhundred dollars that could have been placed in my hands, so that I\ncould use it in an emergency if I should be refused transportation.\nWith some misgivings I entered the general's office and requested an\ninterview. I introduced myself by handing him my papers, which he\nlooked over, and pleasantly asked what I wished.\n\n\"I am hoping,\" I said, \"to secure transportation to Island No. 10, and\nto Memphis, Tennessee, for myself and the supplies referred to in those\npapers.\"\n\n\"Well, madam, I think your papers are worthy of attention, and I will\ngrant your request.\"\n\nThis was said in such a pleasant manner I almost concluded the general\nhad been misrepresented, but how changed his tone when he called his\nadjutant, who in an instant stood before him. \"Go tell my clerk to come\nin.\" He hurried to obey his command, and returned with the report, \"He\nis gone.\"\n\n\"Gone! where has he gone?\"\n\n\"He went a few minutes ago to Church.\"\n\n\"Gone to Church! He has no business to go to Church, or anywhere else,\nwithout my permission; he has no right to leave his office without my\norder.\"\n\nThis he said in such a stern, vociferous manner that I wished myself\nout of his presence. But turning to me, in a mild tone, he said:\n\n\"Mrs. Haviland, you don't want transportation tonight. You come\nto-morrow morning at nine o'clock, and you shall have the papers.\"\n\nWith heartfelt thanks I left his office. On my return I found Colonel\nThomas and the captain anxiously waiting to learn the result of my call\non the general. They met me at the door of their office, and asked:\n\n\"What is the news?\"\n\n\"The general grants transportation for myself and supplies to Island\nNo. 10 and to Memphis,\" I said.\n\nBy their clapping of hands one would have thought they had got cheering\nnews from the army. I found they too felt the weight of responsibility\nin this, as they had solicited my aid in getting these freed people to\ngo to the island.\n\nThe following morning I found a boat was going to leave at half-past\neight o'clock, but too early for the promised transportation, I told\nthe captain of the boat of my wish to go with supplies to Island No. 10\nand to Memphis, but had the promise from the general to have the papers\nat nine o'clock. A captain in the army, standing by, told him he could\ntake me with supplies with all safety; for if General Taliaferro had\npromised transportation he could rest assured the general at Columbus,\nKentucky, would be sure to give it.\n\n\"Very well,\" he said; \"where are your supplies?\"\n\nThey were pointed out, and he ordered them to be put on board at once.\n\nOn landing at Columbus I called on the general, and secured\ntransportation from Cairo to places of destination. Now I thought all\nwas straight; but as I handed my paper to the captain he said:\n\n\"This is an order for transportation. The captain-quartermaster is to\nfill it out, to be good for any thing.\"\n\nI confessed my ignorance of army red-tape, and took back the papers to\nhave them finished. He inquired for my pass from the provost-marshal.\nThat, too, I knew nothing about; but the army captain came to my\nrelief, taking my papers and getting the transportation filled, with a\npass from the provost-marshal. These lessons I found important in all\nmy after work.\n\nWe soon landed at Island No. 10, the area of which was two hundred and\nfifty acres of available plow land, with an excellent orchard of three\nhundred bearing apple and peach trees. Upon this island were seven\nhundred freedmen, who were making good use of the rich donations of\ntwenty-five plows, with harrows, hoes, axes, rakes, and garden and\nfield seeds, from Indiana and Ohio. Their superintendent, Chaplain\nThomas, told me that he never saw a more willing and obedient people.\nThey mostly lived in tents. Government had furnished lumber to erect a\nfew temporary buildings. An old dilapidated farmhouse, and a few\nlog-huts formerly occupied by the overseer and slaves, were the homes\nof Captain Gordon and Surgeon Ransom, with their families, who seemed\nto enjoy camp life as well as any I had seen. They had in charge four\ncompanies of soldiers. Their hospital assumed an air of neatness and\ncomfort.\n\nWe took a stroll over the battle-ground, and saw the deep furrows\nplowed by the terrible shells, in which a horse might be buried. Here\nand there were interspersed \"rebel rat-holes,\" as they were called, dug\nseven or eight feet deep, and nearly covered with planks and two or\nthree feet of earth, in which they dropped themselves, after firing, to\nreload and be secure from flying shot and shell. I picked up a couple\nof cannon-balls about the size of a small tea-cup, of which a peck is\nused for a load. An officer told me that he saw twenty-five rebels\nkilled with one discharge of these balls. O, what slaughter of human\nlife!\n\nGovernment provided a physician and dispensary for the freed people.\nTheir hospital was a tent, like the majority of the regimental\nhospitals in the army. The first tent I visited was occupied by an aged\npair, with two grown children, who appeared quite intelligent. Hard\ntreatment and cruel separations had filled the greater portion of their\nlives. As I was making remarks on the wickedness of slavery, said the\nold man, with tearful eyes, \"Please stop till I bring in my daughter\nand family from the next tent.\" They soon entered. \"Please go on,\" said\nthe father. While tears were coursing down the old man's furrowed\ncheeks, in undertone he ejaculated, \"O Lord, I did not expect to live\nto see this day.\"\n\nAt the close of my remarks he arose to his feet, and in the most\npathetic manner addressed his family as follows:\n\n\"My wife and children, have you thought we should ever see this? I fear\nwe are not thankful enough to God. Do we prize this precious privilege\nas we ought? That dear wife was sold from me nearly twenty years ago;\nsoon after my children were sold, and I thought my heart was broke.\nThey punished me because I grieved so much, and then sold me to be\ntaken another way. O, how I prayed for death to hide me from my\ntroubles, for I thought none could see as much as I did. Many gloomy\nnights and days of sorrow I spent. I could hear no word from my wife,\nand nothing from my children. My master told me I should never hear\nfrom them again, because I made so much trouble over it; he would send\nme as far as wind and water would carry me, so I would never hear from\nthem again. I remembered the words of my poor old father upon his\ndeath-bed, when he gave me this Bible: 'My son, the same God that made\nthat Bible learned me to read it, and learned me to endure hard trials\npatiently. Remember, my son, the same God will do the same for you if\nyou go to him for help;' and so he has. Praise be to the Lord forever!\"\nHe took from a box a Bible, all spotted over with mold, without and\nwithin: \"This Bible has been manna to my soul for many years. God has\nlearned me to read, as he did my poor father. He has been my support. I\nhave prayed these many years for deliverance from bondage, and my faith\ntold me it would come; but I didn't know it would come in my time. O,\nwhat a Savior is our Jesus! That dear wife was compelled to marry\nanother man in these long years of separation. He was taken into the\nrebel army, and she came to the Union camp. A few days ago we met at\nFort Pillow; and there we met our two long lost children; and here we\nfound this daughter and family. O, how wonderful are God's ways! O, my\nwife, my children! let us live nearer that Almighty Deliverer than ever\nbefore, and praise his holy name forever.\" And the tall figure sat\ndown, amid sobs and tears. The spirit of that family sermon I can never\nforget.\n\nThis noble man, Uncle Stephen, was but a few days before a slave; yet\nwith the dignity of a patriarch he assumed his new relation. He was\nevidently a self-taught man, more intelligent, and using more correct\nlanguage, than any I had met on the island.\n\nOn leaving my tent, tickets were given with explanations of my mission,\nwhich was both new and strange to them. In another tent I found a young\nman who had attempted to escape to our lines more than a year before,\nbut was overtaken and shot by his master, shivering the bones six\ninches above the ankle, making amputation necessary. He was beginning\nto use his wooden leg. His master was taken prisoner by our men a few\ndays before, and he, with one hundred fellow-slaves, fell into the\nhands of the Union army. He was fitted with a whole suit. This was done\nin but few instances, the general destitution forbidding it. It would\nhave pleased the donors to see me with open boxes, taking out garment\nafter garment, measuring and delivering, upon presentation of tickets\npreviously given, to fifty or a hundred at a time; and to listen to the\nmany thanks and hearty \"God bless you!\" as each garment was taken.\n\nAt breakfast the adjutant told me of five little boys belonging to some\nof the Fort Pillow families that were almost naked, and that he had\ngiven one little fellow a pair of his own pants. I told him to bring\nthem to the commissary tent any time from nine to twelve o'clock, as I\nhad arranged to meet the children to whom I had given tickets; and if\nhe brought them or gave them a slip of paper with his name, it would\nserve the same purpose. Soon we were beside the boxes in our commissary\ntent measuring, fitting, and handing out, when up stepped the little\nfellow of eight summers with the tall man's pants, rolled over and over\nat the bottom, with one suspender tied around him, the other placed\nover his shoulder to hold them on. His eyes sparkled as a new suit was\nthrown over his arm; calling out, \"See here, Johnnie, what I got!\"\n\"Yes, look at mine!\" was the quick reply, while on the other side stood\na little girl who exclaimed, in surprise, \"Oh, Milla, my dress has a\npocket, and see what I found,\" as she drew out a rag doll two inches\nlong. Then a dozen other little girls instituted a search and found\nsimilar treasures, which I recognized as coming from certain little\ngirls in Hudson, Michigan. All were on tip-toe with excitement, and\nthese remarks were flying through this crowd of little folks when the\nadjutant came to the tent door. Laughing through tears, he said, \"Have\nyou ever thought of the Savior's words, 'Inasmuch as ye have done it\nunto the _least_ of these, ye have done it unto me?'\"\n\n\"That thought had come to my mind before engaging in this mission, and\nit is that which drew me from my Michigan home.\"\n\n\"Doesn't this pay you,\" he continued, \"for coming all this distance, to\nsee those sparkling eyes and light hearts dancing with joy?\"\n\n\"Here is verified the declaration that it is more blessed to give than\nto receive,\" was my reply.\n\nA woman came one evening with the following queries:\n\n\"Missus, whar all dese clo'es come from? Does gov'ment send 'em to us?\"\n\nOn listening to my explanation, \"An' don't gov'ment pay you for\nbringin' 'em to us?\"\n\nAfter all her questions had been disposed of she sat for a moment in a\ndeep study; then said in surprise, \"De Norf mus' be mighty, mighty rich\nto send so much money down here to carry on de war and send so much to\neat, and den da send so many clo'es an' keep so many men here too;\nindeed da mus' be mighty rich.\"\n\nThey were preparing to open a school for them. Henry Roundtree, a\nmissionary, was laboring among them, and would disburse clothing sent\nto that point.\n\nAfter spending over a week on this beautiful island, on my way to the\nsteamer, I was hailed by a female voice calling out, \"Missus, missus,\ndon't pass by dis yere way.\" Turning in the direction of the call, I\nsaw a very old woman sitting on a log, clad in a man's coat, hat, and\nshoes, with an old patched negro cotton skirt. On approaching her I\nremarked, as I took the bony hand, \"You are very old.\"\n\n\"Can't tell how ole I is, only I knows I's been here great while. You\nsee dat white house over de river dar? Dat's been my home great many\nyear, but massa drove me off, he say, 'case I's no 'count, gwine round\nwheezin' like an ole hoss, an' snap a gun at me an' say he shoot my\nbrain out if I didn't go to de Yankees. An' missus come out an' say she\nset fire to my cabin some night an' burn me up in it. 'Go 'long to de\nYankees; da wants niggers, an' you ain't no 'count no how.' An' I tole\n'em, 'Wa'n't I 'count good many years ago?' But da say, 'Clar out wid\nyou.' An' I seed some boys fishing' on de bank, an' da fetch me over.\"\n\nLooking down at her stockingless feet she said, \"Missus, I ain't had a\nsuit o' clo'es in seven years.\" I told her if there was a woman's\ngarment left she should have it. And I would tell the good people about\nher, and they would send her a suit of clothes.\n\n\"Tank you, missus; God bless you!\"\n\nAnd I left the giant-like old woman, whose head was bleached by the\nfronts of eighty or ninety Winters. While waiting on the gunboat for\nthe steamer, I referred to the old woman I had seen, when one of the\nmen turned to his comrade and said, \"That's the same strange-appearing\nold woman we brought over,\" and he repeated the same story she related\nto me. Said one, \"Such people ought to be made to bite the dust. Her\nmaster took the oath of allegiance to save his property; but he has no\nmore principle than a hyena to turn out such an old white-headed woman\nas that to die like a brute.\"\n\nSuch are some of the incidents that gradually changed the politics of\nthe army. They made our Butlers and Hunters by scores. They saw that\nman's inhumanity to man was the outgrowth of slavery. They clearly\nperceived that the iron rod of oppression must be broken, or the unholy\nrebellion would succeed.\n\nAt four P. M. I embarked for another field. On board the steamer were a\nnumber of officers and soldiers, and three women who were ex-slave\nowners. They had quietly listened to the conversation of the officers\non establishing schools among the freed men, and taking them into the\narmy as soldiers. I, too, had been a silent listener. After the\nofficers had left the cabin, one of the women drew her chair near me,\nand in a subdued tone said:\n\n\"Do you believe it is right to set up schools among niggers?\"\n\n\"Certainly I do,\" was my reply, \"as they have as good a right to become\nintelligent as any other class of people.\"\n\n\"Do you think that it is right to make soldiers out of niggers?\"\n\n\"Certainly, if it is right for any class of people.\"\n\nAfter looking around to see whether any officer was in hearing, she\nadded:\n\n\"And do you think it right to rob us of our niggers, as the Yankees are\ndoing?\"\n\n\"Certainly, if you call it robbery to allow the negroes to go where\nthey please.\"\n\nMy replies were in my common tone of voice, yet it seemed to frighten\nher. She would take a look to see whether an officer was near. Then\nwould go on with her queries in an undertone.\n\n\"I tell you it is mighty hard, for my pa paid his own money for our\nniggers; and that's not all they've robbed us of. They have taken our\nhorses and cattle and sheep _and every thing_.\"\n\nAs I had my little Bible in my hand, I turned to the predicted\ndestruction of Babylon in Revelation, and read, \"Fine flour, and wheat,\nand beasts, and sheep, and horses, and chariots, and slaves, and souls\nof men.\" \"You see here,\" I said, \"are the very articles you have named.\nAnd God is the same unchanging Lord to-day.\"\n\n\"But I tell you, madam, its mighty, mighty hard.\"\n\nIn all this conversation she closely watched the officers, and often\nraised her handkerchief to her face while talking with me, as if to\ncheck the sound of her already stifled voice. How widely different were\nour positions, compared with six years before, when going down this\nriver on an errand for a white fugitive from slavery. Then my thoughts\ncould find no place even in a whisper, and slave-holders were cursing\nand threatening abolitionists. What a turning of tables! Now I could\nsay all that was in my heart on the sin of slavery, and the\nslave-holder was now hushed. The coal-barge \"L. S. Haviland,\" that I\nsaw on my other trip tied up a little way above Memphis, was not now to\nbe seen. I had not yet learned the fate of those Tennessee\nslave-holders who had so often threatened my life, and a number of my\nfriends had advised me to keep a proper distance from them, as this\nmight be the time for their opportunity. When I left my home I had no\nidea of going as far as Tennessee, or my children and friends would\nhave feared for my safety; but, as for myself, I knew no fear.\n\nIn Memphis I found many hospitals filled with sick, wounded, and dying\nsoldiers; and in better condition than I had anticipated, except the\nJackson Hospital, which was one of the largest in the city. I asked\npermission of the guards to enter, but was informed their orders were\nvery strict to allow no one to go in without permission.\n\n\"Very well,\" said I, \"please inform me where I can find the clerk, and\nI will secure a permit.\"\n\nThe surgeon in charge was just passing out of the main entrance, and\nthe guard introduced me. I informed him of my wish to visit his\nhospital. In a very surly manner he inquired:\n\n\"Have you a son here?\"\n\n\"I have not,\" I answered.\n\n\"Then what do you want to go in here for? It is no place for a lady to\nstep her foot over the threshold of a hospital.\"\n\n\"I perceive you and I differ widely in that; but if you doubt my\nfitness to visit your patients, you can examine my papers from the\ngovernor of my State and a member of Congress and others.\"\n\n\"If you have no son here, I don't see that you have any business here.\"\n\n\"Every soldier is some mother's son, and I wish to visit them, and here\nare my papers; you can read them if you wish.\"\n\nThrowing out his hand angrily, he said:\n\n\"Go along, then; go along.\"\n\nI went, but he took good care to bear me company.\n\nAs we entered each ward, every soldier who was able to bear his weight\nsprang to his feet, and stood by his cot during our stay in the ward. I\nsaw at once that it was in pursuance of an order. I had made it a point\nto shake hands with every soldier that was awake and conscious, but the\nsurgeon hurried through without giving an opportunity to speak to a\nhalf-dozen in the whole hospital. One poor skeleton of a man sat\nbolstered on his cot, eating his dinner, and had on his plate a\nspoonful of cooked onion.\n\n\"Where did you get that onion?\" cried the surgeon.\n\n\"I paid my own money for it, doctor.\"\n\n\"Who said you might have it?\"'\n\n\"Dr. Spears.\"\n\n\"Very well, then;\" and passed on.\n\nHere my disgust filled up to the brim. I cared but little for his\nattempt to browbeat me; but when he treated a helpless soldier like\nthis I could hardly keep my indignation from boiling over. The first\nwords spoken to me after entering the hospital were:\n\n\"Do you want to go into the kitchen?\"\n\n\"I would like to pass through your kitchen,\" was my reply.\n\n\"Very unfavorable time, madam--very unfavorable; about dinner-time.\"\n\nVery favorable, thought I, and went in. I could see at a glance that\nthe large caldron of potatoes was boiled half an hour too long. Their\nbread looked well, and I suppose it was good. As we passed out, taking\nmemoranda and pencil, I said:\n\n\"You have a very large hospital. How many will it accommodate?\"\n\n\"Fifteen hundred, madam. Very few, very few at present, only four\nhundred and eighty-four.\"\n\n\"How many nurses have you?\"\n\n\"Twenty-three.\"\n\n\"No female nurses?\"\n\n\"No, madam. As I told you, a woman has no business to step inside of a\nhospital.\"\n\n\"As I told you, we evidently differ in that respect. Where I have found\njudicious female nurses it seems more home-like, and our soldiers feel\nmore contented.\"\n\n\"Very few, very few judicious female nurses.\"\n\n\"They exist, notwithstanding. How many surgeons have you?\"\n\n\"Only four at present.\"\n\n\"You are the surgeon in charge; please give me your name.\"\n\n\"My name is Surgeon Powers, of the Seventh Missouri Regiment.\"\n\nHis name and figures were too plainly recorded to be effaced. Here he\nturned a perfect somersault, if words could perform the feat. With an\naffected politeness, bowing himself almost double:\n\n\"Madam, I hope you will call again some time; call in the middle of the\nforenoon or afternoon--very unfavorable about meal-time.\"\n\n\"If I remain a week or ten days longer in the city,\" I replied, \"I\nshall do so.\"\n\n\"I would be very happy to have you call again, madam; very happy to see\nyou again.\"\n\nI left with a heavy heart, and called at the sanitary rooms to\nascertain the location of five unvisited hospitals. I found the room\nfilled with officers and a few generals of high rank. I introduced\nmyself, as usual, by handing Dr. Warrener, sanitary agent, my papers.\n\n\"Then you are visiting the hospitals, with supplies, etc., are you? I\nam glad to see you, as we have had no visitor from so far North. How do\nyou find them?\"\n\n\"I have found them,\" I answered, \"more satisfactorily conducted than I\nanticipated, with but one exception.\"\n\n\"Have you visited the Jackson?\"\n\n\"I have just come from there.\"\n\n\"To-day is not the visiting day. Did you see Surgeon Powers?\"\n\n\"I did.\"\n\n\"Did you get into that hospital without trouble?\"\n\n\"We had a parley.\"\n\n\"What did he say to you?\"\n\nI gave his objection and my reply in a low tone. To my annoyance, the\ndoctor repeated it in a loud voice, and continued:\n\n\"You certainly could have given no better reason than that every\nsoldier is some mother's son. What do you think of Surgeon Powers?\"\n\nI hesitated in view of all these officers; but my second thought was,\nno matter whether the President himself were present; and I frankly\nreplied:\n\n\"I think he is a tyrant brandy-cask. Why do you allow such a man to\noccupy the responsible position of surgeon in charge of hundreds of the\nsick and wounded soldiers?\"\n\n\"We tried once to get him out, and failed. You ought to see the medical\ndirector, who is in the city.\"\n\nHe gave me the location of the hospitals I desired, and I left.\nRemembering the promise I made my son Joseph, I returned to\nhead-quarters, and spent the balance of the day in writing for soldiers\nand for myself.\n\nThe following morning I resumed hospital visiting. On the street I met\nan officer, who reached his hand with a smile, saying, \"You do not\nrecognize me, but I recognize you as being the lady in Dr. Warrener's\noffice yesterday, after visiting the Jackson Hospital.\"\n\n\"I do not know but you thought me severe in my remarks concerning\nSurgeon Powers.\"\n\n\"Not at all--not by any means, for I had two sons under him six weeks,\nand they both declared they would rather die in the open field than be\nunder the care of that drunken tyrant again.\"\n\n\"Why do you permit such a surgeon to have the care of the sick,\nwounded, and dying soldiers?\"\n\n\"Well, it is difficult for us to do much with each other, but there is\nthe medical director just ahead of us; you ought to see him; I'll\nintroduce you. He is very much of a gentleman.\"\n\nThe first query of the medical director, after reading my papers, was\n\"Have you visited the Jackson Hospital? And did you see Surgeon Powers?\"\n\n\"I undertook to visit it yesterday,\" I said, \"but was hurried through\nin such haste, by Surgeon Powers, that I could not speak to any of the\nsoldiers, or stop to write for them to their home friends, if they\ndesired.\"\n\n\"What do you think of Surgeon Powers?\"\n\n\"I think he is an unfeeling tyrant. The white of his eyes had the color\nof red flannel, and the unmistakable brandy breath made standing near\nhim very unpleasant. Besides, his ungentlemanly, morose treatment of\nhelpless soldiers indicates his entire unfitness for the position he\noccupies. If the milk of human kindness is more loudly called for in\none position than another, it is in the surgeon in charge of sick,\nwounded, and dying soldiers.\"\n\n\"We know, Mrs. Haviland, this is true, and we made an effort to\ndisplace him once and failed, because the medical director over the\nwhole of us in this division, next in rank to Grant himself, is\ndetermined to hold him here. But if you will make out your report, with\nthe recommendations from your governor and Congressman backing it, we\ncan make that efficient. You may make your report as strong as you\nplease.\"\n\nI left him with cordial thanks, and soon the report was handed him. I\nvisited all the hospitals in that post, and on my second visit to the\nJackson found Surgeon Powers filled to overflowing with affected\npoliteness; but it did not brighten the bleared eye, or straighten the\nzigzag gait of the surgeon.\n\nA few weeks after I met a Memphis officer, who informed me that Surgeon\nPowers was relieved of hospital work altogether very soon after I left\nthe city. A few months later he filled a drunkard's grave.\n\nIn one hospital in Memphis I found in one corner a female soldier,\nCharlie. She was in both Bull Run battles, and four others she named;\nbesides, she had endured long marches. Here she was taken violently ill\nwith typhoid fever, and for the first time her sex became known. She\nwas large and rather coarse-featured, and of indomitable will. She said\nthe cause of her enlistment did not now exist, and she wanted to go\nhome as soon as able. She intimated that her betrothed had recently\ndied, and she had no desire to remain in the army.\n\nWhile in Memphis a telegram came from President Lincoln ordering four\nhundred colored men to be enlisted, and no more, until further orders.\nColonel Eaton took this work for his breakfast spell. As he came in\nrather late for his morning meal he said, \"I have enlisted the required\nnumber, and quite a company went away crying because they could not\nenlist. I comforted them by telling them that I presumed there would be\nanother call soon.\" I had built a bed for myself in one corner of the\ncommissary building, and as we were occupying the weakest point at the\npost, we were ordered to have no light in our tents, but before dark to\nhave every needed article at our bedside, ready at a moment's warning\nto be conducted to Fort Pickering. Soldiers were kept in readiness for\naction, as the enemy was threatening to retake Memphis. At two, o'clock\nA. M. the loud cry, \"Halt!\" at the corner where I was sleeping, aroused\nme. This was quickly followed by a still louder \"Halt! May be you don't\nknow who I is; I holds a gun, an' her's off.\"\n\n\"Well-well, I only want to come to you; I don't want to go farther.\"\nThe officer approached, saying, \"That is right; if I had taken one step\nafter you cried halt the third time, you should have shot me through,\nno matter who I am, if it was the President himself.\"\n\nAt the breakfast table Colonel Eaton remarked: \"A number of our new\ncolored soldiers were put on picket guard last night on trial, and not\none sleepy head was found among them. Since we accept these men as\nsoldiers I am confident it will do away the necessity of drafting men,\nas some think must soon be done.\"\n\nI spent a few days in visiting hospitals, often reading portions of\nScripture, and kneeling by the cot of the suffering and dying soldiers,\nimploring the Great Physician to heal the sin-sick soul. For some I\nwrote letters to their home friends, which I found was often very\ngratifying to poor homesick boys. One very sick with pneumonia wished\nme to write to his folks in Kent County, Michigan, that he was in the\nhospital from a little cold, but would soon be able to join his\nregiment again. I dared not write according to his directions, and told\nhim I would finish his letter at head-quarters. When he asked my name,\nhe wanted to know if I was a relative of Rev. D. S. Haviland, in Kent\nCounty, Michigan. When I told him he was my son, he held my hand in\nboth of his and burst into a flood of tears, and said he had heard him\npreach many times, and thought he was such a good man. I saw his\nfeelings were deeply affected, and I feared it would increase the\nfever, and I promised to come and see him again in a day or two. I sat\nby him with my hand upon his head and consoled him as best I could.\nWhen he became calm I left, and called on his physician for his opinion\nconcerning him. He said he was still in a critical condition, but\nthought the disease was turning in his favor, and advised me not to\nwrite to his friends until two days more had passed, as he would then\nbe able to judge better of his case. Two days later I called again and\nfound him much better, but the doctor thought the excitement of my\nleaving him increased the fever during the afternoon. He was now a\nlittle stronger, and he said I had better not let him know that I\ndesigned leaving the city. I finished the letter with greater\nencouragement than I could have done conscientiously on my first visit.\n\nAs I was passing out one of the convalescents said, \"Frank, here is\nthat woman you wanted to see;\" and he came on a run.\n\n\"Are you from Michigan?\" I asked.\n\n\"Not quite,\" he said; \"but I've been in Michigan. I am from Ohio, and\nthat is its next neighbor;\" and he seemed as glad as if he was meeting\nhis mother. \"O, how much you remind me of my mother! Your advice to us\nboys is almost in the same words my mother gave me when I left her;\"\nand tears spoke louder than words of his appreciation of visits from\nhis mother's representative.\n\nI visited many camps of the freedmen, where there were two thousand,\nwith daily additions. Forty came into Bethel Camp one afternoon. I went\namong them, and said to the man I met first:\n\n\"You concluded to use your freedom in coming into the Union camps?\"\n\n\"Freedom!\" looking up in surprise.\n\n\"Yes; you know President Lincoln has proclaimed all slaves free.\"\n\n\"Is dat so?\"\n\n\"Certainly; you have heard about it, I suppose.\"\n\n\"No, missus, we never hear nothing like it. We's starvin', and we come\nto get somfin' to eat. Dat's what we come for. Our people home tell us\nYankees want niggers to kill; an' da boils 'em up in great caldrons to\neat, 'case da's starvin'. But all de white men gone into de army, an'\nlef' us all wid missus, an' da locks de bacon up for de sojers, an' gib\nus little han'ful o' meal a day, an' we's got weak an' trimbly. An' I\ntole my people we's gwine to die anyhow, an' we'd try de Yankees.\"\n\nThey were all so surprised at the idea of freedom that they could\nhardly credit the fact until their own people confirmed what I had told\nthem. Rations were given to that hungry company at once. I told them\nthis did not look like killing off colored people.\n\n\"No, missus, dis 'pears like makin' alive, instead of killin'. God\nbless sich people as dese, if dis be Yankees.\"\n\nA couple of young men followed me from tent to tent, as I was reading\nportions of Scripture, and advising them how to live in their new\nrelation as a free people. I advised them to live soberly and honestly\nin the sight of all men; that our Heavenly Father looks upon all his\nchildren alike, and that our Lord and Savior died upon the cross for\nall alike, because he is no respecter of persons. The young men, asked\nto be excused for following me; \"for,\" they said, \"we never heard,\nwhite folks talk like you talks in our life. Da never talks fur our own\ngood, an' dis is so new we wants to ax you please excuse us.\"\n\nOur head-quarters were most of the time at Camp Bethel; but I spent a\nportion of my time in Camp Shiloh, which was in sight. On the Sabbath I\nattended a very large meeting in a grove of pecans, oaks, and\nmagnolias. The minister was a colored man of considerable intelligence,\ncould read quite well; and perhaps there were nearly or quite one\nhundred of our soldiers in attendance. I spoke to one man near the\nstand while they were singing, informing him that I would like to make\na few remarks if their minister was willing. The minister said, before\ndismissing the congregation, he would give liberty for a white lady\npresent to speak. \"I do not know who she is. She may be here inquiring\nfor some of her people; but we can tell better as to her object when we\nhear her;\" and he invited me forward.\n\nI saw at once the minister took me to be one of those slave-holders who\nwere coming into their camp almost daily to persuade their slaves back,\nthough not one of them ever succeeded. I told them my object was to\ninquire after the health of this people, body, soul, and spirit--and my\npeople were all who accept salvation through our Lord and Savior Jesus\nChrist; that our Heavenly Father made all the nations of the whole\nearth of one blood, and never designed that one race should hold\nanother in bondage. I had hardly finished my first sentence before the\nminister and those near him were urging me to step to the top of their\nplatform, as I had only taken one or two steps forward. \"Come up here;\nour people all want to see you.\" I had to obey. Ten minutes' talk did\nnot satisfy. The minister and others in that large congregation bade me\ngo on; and ten or fifteen minutes more were occupied.\n\nAt the close a few hundred of those whose families had been broken up\nby cruel separations came to me, and many tears were coursing down the\nsable cheeks of many gathered around me to shake my hands, which were\nactually lame and swollen for three days after.\n\nSaid the disappointed minister, \"It 'pears like an angel dropped down\n'mongst us, in place of the slave-missus come for her people.\"\n\nSaid one woman: \"My ole missus come las' week to get all fifty-five of\nus back again, and she tried mighty hard to get us to go back wid her.\nDen she went to General Grant, an' he say, 'If your people want to go\nback they may.' Den she try us again; but not one would go, 'case we\nknows her too well--she's mighty hard on us. Den she went back to the\ngeneral, an' begged an' cried, and held out her han's, and say,\n'General, dese han's never was in dough--I never made a cake o' bread\nin my life; please let me have my cook.' An' she tuck on so I jus'\ntrimble; I's feared he'd tell me to go wid her. But all her cryin'\ndidn't help her. General say, 'I can't help you, madam; if your cook\nwants to go wid you she can; but she is free, an' can do as she likes\nabout it.' An' she went off cryin'; an' we could jus' kiss de groun'\nGeneral Grant walks on ever since.\"\n\nAmong the most affecting scenes were meetings of members of families\nlong separated. In passing out of this multitude my attention was\nattracted to a group who were singing, shaking hands, shouting, and\nreciting their afflictions and sore trials since they were parted. One\nwoman found her sister, who was sold from her fifteen years before.\nThey had not heard from each other till just here they met. \"O sis'\nSusie, you know my two nice boys was sole from me two year afore I was\nsole off dat plantation down de river, an' it 'peared like my heart was\nbroke; an' missus had me hit fifty lashes 'case I cried so much. An' de\nLo'd has been my sun an shiel' all dis time. An' here I foun' my two\nboys; da's heap bigger, but da's my own dear boys. I's prayed long for\nfreedom, an' God did come down and make us free. _Glory_, GLORY be to\nhis name!\" And they embraced each other in wild excitement during some\nminutes. Then they went to another part of the camp to meet some of\ntheir friends Susie told her of.\n\nI hastened back 'to Camp Bethel, to witness the marriage of twenty\ncouples that Colonel Eaton, who was a chaplain among them, was to marry\nwith one ceremony. Many of the men were of the newly-enlisted soldiers,\nand the officers thought they had better be legally married, although\nmany of them had been married a number of years, but only according to\nslave law, which recognized no legal marriage among slaves. At the\nappointed hour the twenty couples stood in a row, each couple with\nright hands clasped; and among them one young couple, that being their\nfirst marriage. All gave affirmative answers at the same time; first\nthe men, then the women. After the ceremony Chaplain Eaton offered an\nearnest prayer; all kneeling. Then he shook hands with them to signify\nhis congratulations, and I followed him in like manner. It was a novel\nscene, and yet solemn.\n\nOn the morning I was to leave Memphis I saw an old woman wringing the\nbottom of her cotton dress a few rods from the door. I inquired how her\ndress came so wet half a yard deep. \"I come up in a leaky skiff las'\nnight wid six boys dat do oberseer whip de Yankee out, he say; an' da\nsay da go to Yankees now any how, an' I begged 'em to let me come, for\nda knows I has sich hard times. But da say, 'Aunt Peggy, de skiff leak\nso bad.' But I tole 'em I's comin' wid a basin, an' I reckon I dip fas'\nenough to keep us 'bove water. An' da let me come, an' it tuck all\nnight to come seven miles up de river. Dar was forty of us on dis\nplantation. Massa is a big man in Secesh army, an' sent more'n a\nhundred of our people 'way off to de big plantation: an', missus, da\nall wants to come mighty bad, an' begged us to go see de big man right\nsoon, an' tell him da wants to do any thing he wants 'em to do, if he\nwill only let 'em come. For missus is mighty rich, an' don't need us,\n'case she's got barrels of meal, an' flour, an' plenty bacon in de\nsmoke-house, da keeps locked up, da say for de Secesh sojers. An'\nmissus had us put a tin trunk of gole an' silver money, an' a big ches'\nof all her silver plate way up in de lof' few days ago. Missus, do\nplease go tell de big man how da all begged us so hard to ax him, soon\nas we got here, if he 'll let 'em come.\"\n\nI told her I would see the colonel, and inquired for the boys who came\nwith her. She pointed to the six young men standing outside our door. I\napproached the young men, who were between twenty and thirty years of\nage, and shook hands with them, saying, \"It seems your overseer didn't\nsucceed in whipping the Yankee out of you night before last.\"\n\n\"No, indeed,\" said one; \"he drove in the Yankee deeper every lick;\" and\nanother said, \"I reckon he'll find out this mornin' how much Yankee he\nwhipped out.\"\n\nI informed Colonel Eaton of his new comers; and of the earnest appeal\nof the old woman in behalf of the remaining thirty-three, and how she\nbacked her pleading, with enumerating the abundance of every thing her\nmistress possessed. He said he would see General Veach, and he might\nconclude to send a gun-boat for them.\n\nOn May 17, 1863, I called at Dr. Warrener's office on my way to General\nVeach's office for transportation to Cairo, but designed calling at\nIsland No. 10 and Columbus, Kentucky. The doctor kindly offered to take\nmy papers and get transportation and pass from the provost marshal for\nme, and allow me to rest the while. I was glad to accept the favor; but\nhe soon returned, rather discouraged, and said, \"I think the general\nrather cross today, and I don't know whether you'll get transportation\nor not. After reading your papers he asked where you were, and I told\nhim you looked tired and were resting in my office, and I offered to do\nthis errand for her, as it would save her a mile of walk. 'I'd like to\nsee the lady,' he said, as he handed back your papers; and you'll have\nto go and see him.\" Here was another narrow place. I took my papers to\nGeneral Veach in haste, as there was a boat which I was anxious to take\ngoing up the river that afternoon. I entered his office and handed him\nmy papers, telling him I hoped to receive the favor of an order for\ntransportation to Cairo, with the privilege of stopping at Island No.\n10 and Columbus. He neither asked me a question nor opened my papers,\nbut threw them to his clerk, with directions to give the order. Then he\nsent it to the quartermaster to fill. On my return I called on the\nprovost-marshal and secured my pass. Said the doctor, \"What did the\ngeneral say?\"\n\n\"Nothing,\" I answered; \"he only looked at me when I gave him my papers,\nand passed them over to his clerk to make the order.\"\n\n\"I think he might just as well have sent them by me; but the general\nhadn't seen a Union woman for so long, he just wanted to take a look at\none.\"\n\nI was soon on the steamer that took me from this city of many exciting\nscenes. Here I learned the sequel of my Tennessee correspondents,\nformerly mentioned, and was shown the house where they had both lain\ndead men.\n\nI found on the island many waiting for the remainder of my supplies.\nThe number in camp had now reached about 3,000. I also spent a little\ntime at Fort Pillow, where a company of ex-slaves, thirty-seven in\nnumber, had just made their escape from their old home. They had\ntraveled all night to get to our lines. They took two mules and two\ncarts to bring their bundles and little folks. Men, women, and larger\nchildren walked twenty-five miles, to get to Fort Pillow. \"What time\ndid you start?\" I asked one of the tired women. \"Early moonrise,\" was\nthe reply. That was about 11 o'clock P. M., and they had made all\npossible speed to get to our lines, and seemed very much pleased to get\nclear of pursuers, as some in their neighborhood had been shot and\nkilled in their attempt to come. The officers took charge of the mules\nand carts, and sent the people to Island No. 10. Here I took a steamer\nfor Columbus.\n\nAfter landing I saw a funeral procession of colored people, and a\nnumber of officers and soldiers. I joined the procession, and learned\nit was the only son of a slave mother who, two days previously, had\nleft their plantation. He had heard that colored men were accepted as\nsoldiers, and was exceedingly anxious to enlist. When they were nearly\nhalf across the river their young master reached the bank and bade them\nreturn or he'd shoot them; but the son pulled for the opposite shore,\nwhen a ball passed through his right arm, breaking the bone above the\nelbow. The mother took the oars and pulled with all her might, when a\nsecond ball entered the lungs of the son. They were met by a few of our\nsoldiers, who took him from the skiff to the hospital, where he\nreceived the best surgical attendance, but without avail. Much sympathy\nwas manifested in behalf of the bereaved mother, who was left with two\nlittle girls. Bereavement was no new trial for her. Her husband had\nbeen sold from her a few years before. I asked her if these three\nchildren were all her family. \"O, no, honey; I had two big boys sold\njus' afore the war. Don't know whar they went. An' now my poor boy is\nshot dead by that young massa I nussed with my own boy. They was both\nbabies together. Missus made me nuss her baby, an' set her little girl\nto watch me, fur fear I'd give my baby too much, no matter how hard he\ncried. Many times I wasn't allowed to take him up, an' now that same\nboy has killed mine,\" and she buried her face in her faded calico apron\nuntil it was wet with tears. A soldier told me a large company of them\nwere only waiting permission from their commander to go to that\nplantation and strip it. He said she seemed to be such a nice woman;\nthat they all felt so indignant they hardly knew how to wait for orders.\n\nFrom this sad scene, walking to the Soldier's Home, my attention was\narrested on seeing a white man with a ball and chain attached to his\nankle, with brick and his ball in the wheelbarrow, wheeling toward the\nsoldier's camp, guarded by a black soldier. As I stood looking at the\nblack soldier walking leisurely beside the white man in irons, an\nofficer accosted me with, \"Madam, that prisoner you see wheeling brick\nto our camp is a strong secessionist, and was a hard master over a\nlarge plantation with more than one hundred slaves, and he was taken\nprisoner, and all his slaves came into our camp. The younger men\nenlisted as soldiers, and that man made an attempt to escape and we put\nhim in irons and set a black soldier, who had been his own slave, to\nguard him.\"\n\n\"What a turning of tables!\" I said.\n\n\"Yes, you will find the same turning of tables within our lines all\nover the South.\"\n\nAt the door of a tent I saw a large, square block of iron, weighing\nsixty or eighty pounds, to which was attached a ring. I inquired of a\ncolored man what it was for.\n\n\"That belonged to our plantation, and when master had a mind to punish\nus he ordered us locked to that block, and from one to a dozen of us\nsometimes were locked to it with a long chain; and when we hoed corn\nwe'd hoe the chain's length, then the one next the block had it to tote\nthe length of the chain, and so on till we did our day's work. Since\nwe've been here we've seen nine of our masters chained to that same\nblock and made to shovel sand on that fortification yonder. There were\nforty of us that belonged to our plantation standing in this yard\nlooking on.\"\n\n\"How did you feel to witness such a scene?\"\n\n\"O, I can't tell you, madam; but I cried like a baby.\"\n\n\"Why did you cry?\"\n\n\"O, to think what great things God is doing. Man could never, never do\nit.\"\n\n\"Did the others feel as you did?\"\n\n\"O no, some laughed, and one man said, 'Ah ha, you see now how sweet\n'tis to tote the old block, don't you?'\"\n\n\"Did he say that in his hearing?\"\n\n\"O no, we's five rods off.\"\n\nThere were a number of houses burned down, May 28th, three miles beyond\nour lines. Mrs. Samantha Plumer inquired of Curlie, one of our boys of\nthe home, if he would take us to that biggest house burning on the Moss\nplantation. No sooner was the suggestion made than Curlie got his\nambulance ready for us, and we were soon in front of the smoldering\nmansion. The proprietor was raking over the debris for gold and silver\nor other imperishable treasure. Among the ashes; were hand-cuffs,\nchains, shackles, and other slave-irons. He was occupying one of his\nslave cabins, as the long row was vacated by seventy of his former\nslaves. He was said to be one of the wealthiest planters in Kentucky.\nOne year previous to the war, report said he lost seven valuable\nslaves, and one from each of three adjoining plantations escaped at the\nsame time. After a consultation over their loss they placed the blame\nof their escape on a carpenter from Illinois, who had been a few weeks\nworking at his trade in their midst. To be avenged on the poor\ncarpenter, a band of men came upon him in the night, took him out of\nbed, gave him a coat of tar and feathers, and treated him to a ride on\na rail-horse. Then they furnished him with soap and lard with which to\ndisrobe himself, and charged him to leave the State within twelve\nhours, never to be seen there again, or a calamity far exceeding this\nwould be his portion. All his assertions that he knew nothing whatever\nof their slaves were of no avail. He left the State as requested, but\nwrote back to the chief leader, Moss, that if an opportunity ever\npresented he would be avenged on those who had heaped upon him these\nabuses. Mr. Moss said he saw that same carpenter a few days previous to\nthe house-burning, with three other men, in soldier's dress, but he did\nnot believe he was a soldier, but only in borrowed clothes, as he did\nnot think a Union soldier would do so mean a thing. An officer\nremarked, however, that he was a hard master and a firm secessionist,\nbut was now very tame. On our way back Curlie informed us that he had\ntaken us three miles beyond our lines, and we were very near being\ncaught just opposite the line at the firing of the sundown gun. But\nwith Curlie's earnest pleading the guards consented to allow us to\ncross the line.\n\nIn one cabin there were two quite intelligent mulatto women, better\nclad than any I had met in the camp, one of whom was the mother of\nthree fine-looking children. I remarked to one of them that they had a\nbetter chance for life than others I had seen, and inquired how long\nthey had been within our lines.\n\nOne of them answered, \"Only ten days. Thar was thirty-three when we\nleft our plantation seven miles below Memphis, 'bout three weeks ago,\nbut some of our people stopped at Memphis when we came up the river.\"\n\nAs I was interested in her recital, she became more excited in giving\ndetails, and said:\n\n\"Mistess got mighty feared of black smoke, an' watched boats mighty\nclose. One day as she was settin' on the sofa she say, Mill, I reckon\nthar's a gunboat comin'; see de black smoke, an if they do come, I\nreckon they won't fin' that trunk o' money, an' ches' of silver plate\nyou put up in the lof t'other day.' Lookin' out for the boat, 'Yes\nthat's a gunboat sure. Now, if the Yankees do stop, you all run and\nhide, won't you?' I looked too, but didn't answer till I see the big\nrope flung on the bank. An' mistess got wild-like. 'Yes, they are\nstoppin'. Mill an' Jule run, tell all the niggers in the quarters to\nrun to the woods an' hide; quick, for they kills niggers. Mill, why\ndon't you go? I said, 'I ain't feared the Yankees.' 'Jule, you run and\ntell all the niggers to run to the woods, quick. Yes, here they are\ncoming, right up to the house. Now, Mill, you won't go with them, will\nyou?' As the men had started for the house I felt safe, and said, 'I'll\ngo if I have a chance.' 'Jule, you won't go, will you?' 'I shall go if\nMill goes.' She began to wring her hands and cry. 'Now, 'member I\nbrought you up. You won't take your children away from me, will you,\nMill?' 'Mistess, I shall take what childern I've got lef.' 'If they\nfine that trunk o' money or silver plate you'll say it's your'n, won't\nyou?' 'Mistess, I can't lie over that; you bo't that silver plate when\nyou sole my three children.' 'Now, Jule, you'll say it's yourn, won't\nyou?' 'I can't lie over that either.' An' she was cryin' an' wringin'\nher han's, an' weavin' to an' fro as she set thar. 'Yes, here they\ncome, an' they'll rob me of every thing. Now, 'member I brought you\nup.' Here come in four sojers with swords hangin' to their sides, an'\nnever looked at mistess, but said to me, 'Auntie, you want to go with\nus?' 'Yes, sir,' I said, an' they look to Jule an' say, 'You want to\ngo?' 'Yes, sir.' 'Well, you can all go; an' hurry, for we shall stay\nbut a little while.' An' Jule jus' flew to the quarters, an' they all\ntied up beds an' every thing, an' tote 'em down, to the gunboats in a\nhurry. An' two sojers went up-stairs an' wa'n't gone but a few minutes,\nan' don't you think here they come, with that tin trunk o' money an'\nches' of silver plate, an' broke 'em open an' tuck out a big platter\nan' water-pitcher an' a few other pieces an' say, 'See here, Tom,\nhaven't we foun' a prize of solid silver for gov'ment,' an' he put it\nall back. An' another open the trunk,' O, see here, Jim; see what a\nmine of money we foun' for General Veach,' as he tuck up a han'ful of\ngole an' silver money an' sif it through his fingers, droppin' in the\ntrunk, sayin', 'Ain't we got a pile o' money for gov'ment.' An' he han'\nit over to a sojer to tote to the gunboat. An' two ov 'em went down\ncellar an' come back with stone jars of butter, an' pezerves, an'\nopened 'em. 'Tom, see here, what a lot of goodies we got; won't we live\nwell?' An' he cover'd 'em up agin an' toted 'em to the gunboat. Then\nthey broke open the meal-room, an' rolled out barrels of meal and\nflour, saved for secesh sojers, an' rolled 'em down to the gunboat.\nAn', last of all, they went to the smoke house, an' broke it open an'\ngot a lot of bacon. 'Now, auntie, you all ready,' they say? 'Yes, sir,'\nI tell 'em. 'Here's a roll of linsey for our cloze, shall we take it?'\n'Certainly, an' any thing else you'r a mine to.' As we started for the\ndoor mistess followed us cryin' an' wringin' her han's. 'Now, Mill an'\nJule, I know you'll suffer when you leave me.' One o' the sojers turn\nto her and said, 'They won't suffer again as they have done with you.'\nAn' this was the firs' words she spoke after they come in, an' the\nfirs' they said to her. An' we all got on the boat in a hurry; an' when\nwe's fairly out in the middle' of the river, we all give three times\nthree cheers for the gunboat boys, and three times three cheers for big\nYankee sojers, an' three times three cheers for gov'ment; an' I tell\nyou every one of us, big and little, cheered loud and long and strong,\nan' made the old river just ring ag'in.\"\n\nShe became so excited she acted the part of her mistress admirably in\nthe half-bent, whining, crying, and wringing of hands, as she followed\nthem to the door.\n\n\"How did you feel about that silver plate that was bought with the\nprice of your three children? Didn't you think you ought to have it?\"\n\n\"O'no, I couldn't touch it. It was part o' my poor dear childern; but I\ndidn't want mistess to keep it. I was glad to see it go to gov'ment.\"\n\nThe tears coursed down her care-worn cheeks as she related the sale of\nher three older children.\n\n\"I fell upon my knees afore master an' mistess, an' begged 'em not to\nsell my poor childern down the river, whar I could never see or hear\nfrom 'em any more. But master say it's none o' my business, an' I\nshould stop my noise, or he'd have me punished. An' mistess say she\nwon't have all this cryin' round her. 'Your childern belongs to us, an'\nyou know it; an' it's not for you to make all this fuss over it,\neither.' I said, 'Mistess, wouldn't you grieve over your childern, if\nsomebody take 'em from you?' 'You hush your sauce, or I'll have you\npunished. That's another thing; my childern's white.' An' then they had\nme punished.\"\n\nHer husband was sent, with many others, to what they called the \"big\nplantation,\" in the interior. She said her master was a \"big man\" in\nthe secesh army. I found they called all officers big men. After she\nfinished her story I told her I saw the seven she said went to Memphis,\na few days before they left, and how Aunt Peggy begged me so hard to\ntell the big man that they all wanted to come. And to impress me with\nthe idea that the mistress could do without slaves, she told me about\nthe trunk of money and chest of silver plate; but I had no more idea of\nits being confiscated than had Aunt Peggy in her appeal.\n\nMy attention from this episode was arrested by another scene of a\ndifferent character, but truly revolting--a young mother of only\nfourteen years, with a very sick infant, pale and emaciated herself;\nthe grandmother of a very light complexion, and the great-grandmother a\nmulatto. All these four generations were the children of their old\nmaster, whose hair was white with age. He was the father of the\ngreat-grandmother, and of each generation to the fourth, and master,\nall in one. As revolting as this fact was, I was compelled to believe\nit, as his former slaves told me of his licentious character from his\nearly youth to eighty years! He was never married, and was the owner of\na large plantation, and his many slaves sought the first opportunity to\nmake their escape. The condition of these women was truly appalling,\nand the history of their base and degraded master and father too\nrevolting for the public eye or ear! I turned away with utter disgust\nat their recitals. The child soon died, and I thought it seemed a pity\nthat its demented mother could not have gone with it; but I did what I\ncould to relieve their wants.\n\nThe hospitals at this post were tolerably well cared for, except one\nregimental hospital, where were a number of sick and emaciated\nsoldiers, who had no pillows but their haversacks, and no covering but\ntheir overcoats, and they piteously begged for milk. I went to their\nsurgeon, and inquired whether boiled milk would not be allowed for\nthose men who were so low with camp diarrhea, and whether I could not\nbring them quilts and pillows. \"Madam, you can bring them milk, or any\nthing you've named; but I tell you, if you undertake to listen to all\nthese soldiers' teasing, you'll have your hands full. As like as not,\nany way, they'll trade whatever you give them for whisky the first\nchance they have.\" I could not sleep until I secured the aid of two\nsoldiers to go with me to carry milk, pillows, and quilts for those\nsick men. Their tears of gratitude, as I handed each his bottle of\nmilk, and placed a pillow under their heads, and a quilt for those who\nhad only an overcoat for a covering, paid me well. I returned to the\nSoldiers' Home quite relieved, but wearied and sick, with a severe\ncough, that had followed me for more than a month. I found it necessary\nto hasten home to rest.\n\nI left this field of suffering and constant excitement May 30th, for\ndear home and anxious children and friends. A few days' rest restored\nhealth and strength, but we were not relieved from excitement. Our\nprincipal, E A. Haight, enlisted soon after closing the Spring term of\nour school. Preparation for another school-year was before me, beside\nthe necessity of calling on friends in various places for supplies. I\nwas informed by officers that I could now secure passes and\ntransportation for an assistant as readily as for myself alone. My\nschool vacation was fully occupied in preparing for the following\nacademic year, and in looking for a congenial companion to share with\nme in this work,--one who was willing to sacrifice all upon our\ncountry's altar.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI.\n\nSANITARY WORK.\n\n\nWe found a necessity for organized work, and formed a Freedmen's Relief\nAssociation, in Detroit, with Captain E. B. Ward, president; Rev.\nWilliam Webb, vice-president; Benjamin C. Durfee, secretary; and\nFrancis Raymond, treasurer. These did what they could in gathering\nsupplies in that city for me to take South the coming Autumn. Brother\nAldrich was engaged to act as principal of Raisin Institute, and this\ngave me leisure to hold meetings in towns and county school-houses for\nsoliciting help for my Southern work. During vacation our two halls\nwere made ready for opening the Academic Year, as usual, on the first\nWednesday in September, 1863-4. The school, though smaller than before\nthe war, opened with fair prospects, and I felt at liberty to leave.\nThe institution, being in competent hands, I obtained as a companion in\nlabor one of the most devoted of Christian woman, my dear sister,\nLetitia Backus, of Pittsford, Michigan. With a car-load of supplies we\nleft our homes for fields of greatest suffering, where least help was\nfound. Well furnished with documents from our governor, Austin P.\nBlair, and two members of Congress, we secured passes to Chicago and\nreturn, then to Cairo and return, and from thence to Vicksburg,\nMississippi. Waiting a few days at Cairo, for our supplies to reach us,\nwe visited the hospitals and camps. Here we met a company of men who\nwere called \"Jay-hawkers.\" They were all tall, large men. One of these\ncarried the treasure-bag, but I do not think he was a Judas to the\ngovernment. A pillow-case was nearly half full of gold and silver\nwatches, diamonds, and gold jewelry, which they said was confiscated\nfor the government. They said wealth gave the rebellion strength, no\nmatter in what it consisted.\n\nAfter the arrival of our supplies we took a steamer down the\nMississippi, and stopped a short time at Columbus. A little before\nlanding I discovered an Irish woman had in her possession a six-quart\ntin pail of whisky, and a gallon jug that she seemed very careful to\nkeep out of sight under the sofa; I took a seat by her side, and knew I\ncould not be mistaken as to the contents of her pail and jug, and as I\nunderstood it was a forbidden article, I penciled on the margin of my\nofficial paper to the inspector to look well to the whisky the woman at\nmy side had in her possession. As he came to inquire for my baggage to\ninspect, I told him where he would find it, and he would see by my\npapers what were their probable contents. Taking a look at the lady by\nmy side, as he handed back my papers he remarked, \"I think I'll not\ntake the trouble to inspect your baggage, as I see you are all right.\"\nAs we were going ashore, my red-shawled companion carefully gathered\nher pail and jug under her shawl at each side of her, and hurried to\nbury herself in the crowd. The inspector followed closely, and as he\ntook hold of the pail to see what she had hanging on her arm, in her\neffort to get away from him it fell on the cabin carpet. As the cover\ncame off we had quite a shower of whisky about our feet. At this the\njug was seized by the inspector, amid shouts of \"Good, good,\" and the\nlaughter of the crowd, with muttering and swearing by the Irish woman.\nShe hastened out of the crowd, leaving her pail and jug behind her.\n\nAt the Soldiers' Home we found Samantha Plummer and her excellent\nassistant. The following three days we spent in visiting hospitals.\nHospital No. 2 was miserably cared for. The matron was a Southern\nwoman, who had lost her husband in the Confederate army, but she\nprofessed to be a Union woman, and said her husband would never have\ngone on that side but for compulsion. Our officers seemed to pity her\nand her two daughters, and gave them a home in the hospital. The mother\nheld the position of nurse, but not one of the three was a suitable\nperson to be there. The sick and wounded soldiers did not look as if\ntheir beds or apparel had been changed in two weeks. The floor was\nfilthy, and the scent was sufficient to sicken well people. From the\nappearance of the wash-boiler, running over with dried apples that were\nbeing boiled without care, I judged every thing to be done after the\nsame style. I inquired of one of the convalescents in the yard when\ntheir supper hour was, and proposed to return to see how the brethren\nfared. Sister Backus was rather fearful I might make matters worse, as\nthey might suspect we had an object in revisiting the hospital so soon;\nbut we were on hand to see the burned and sour biscuits dealt out to\nthose sick and wounded soldiers, with the half-stewed apples, and a\nchoice given between rancid butter and a poor quality of black\nmolasses. I hoped to see something better when the pail with a spout\nappeared, out of which was turned a substance half way between pudding\nand porridge, I asked if it was farina. \"It's corn meal mush,\" and mush\nit was, running all through whatever was on the plate. I passed from\none plate to another, tasting the biscuits and cutting pieces of apple\nto see if I could find one without an uncooked center, but with little\nsuccess.\n\nIn going around I came to half a dozen of the boys trying to while the\ntime away with a pack of cards. Having an armful of Testaments, I\nproposed to make an exchange. This was readily agreed to, as each of\nthem had left his home with one, but had lost it in battle or storm. I\ngave them advice to commit at least one verse from their Testaments\ndaily while in the army, and each promised to do so.\n\nAll this time of investigating their supper and making this bargain,\nsister Backus was busily engaging the attention of the matron. I left\nthat hospital with a heavy heart, and spent a sleepless night. I told\nsister Backus I must remain there until that hospital was renovated. I\nwanted to go into it and \"make things fly,\" right and left, if there\nwas no other way. In the morning I found the medical director, and\nasked if he had visited Hospital No. 2 recently. He said he had not,\nbut thought the surgeon having charge of that hospital a very clever\nsort of a man.\n\n\"I think there is not a single officer in that establishment,\" said I,\n\"that is at all suitable to be there. Perhaps that surgeon is too\nclever. I tell you he is defective, or he would not allow such a\nhospital as that under his charge. But I find I am ahead of myself. You\nmay take me to be some nervous mother, but I only claim to be a\nrepresentative of common-sense women. Here are papers from the governor\nof my State, and from two members of Congress.\"\n\nAfter reading them he said, \"I will take up that hospital within two\nweeks, I think.\"\n\n\"Two weeks!\" I exclaimed; \"many of those soldiers will die before that\ntime. I can not leave them for two weeks.\"\n\n\"Then I will tell you what I will do; I will bring the sickest ones\nhere to this hospital, and put the rest on a boat and take them to\nMound City, to the United States Hospital, and take up No. 2 within\nthree days.\"\n\n\"That will do,\" I said; \"I am satisfied with Mound City Hospital, and\nwith this one. If you will do this I will go on to-day with our\nsupplies for Vicksburg, Mississippi.\"\n\n\"Mrs. Haviland, it shall be done within three days,\" he replied, and I\nleft him with a lighter heart.\n\nWe went on our way with a number of officers and soldiers on board. As\nwe were on the boat over Sunday, I asked permission of the captain to\ntalk to the soldiers. He gave me leave, saying it was a very unsuitable\nplace for ladies on the rear deck, over cattle, sheep, and hogs, but\nthey would prepare a place as soon as possible. While preparation was\nbeing made, a young man who had been studying for the ministry of the\nCumberland Presbyterian Church, proposed to the captain to address the\nsoldiers. As he was a minister the captain came and informed me that he\nhad granted his request. I told him I supposed we could attend.\n\"Certainly, certainly, if you like, only as I told you, it is an\nunpleasant place for ladies.\" Unpleasant as it was, we listened to a\nlong sermon, and remained a few minutes longer to give the boys a\nmother's advice, as they were leaving their Northern homes, not to\nallow themselves to become demoralized by the many dangers and\nhardships they would have to endure.\n\nAbout 8 o'clock the boat stopped a little below Napoleon, Arkansas, to\nwood. As it was very dark, our torches were lighted, and we saw a light\nadvancing so fast on the bank that I thought it must be borne on\nhorseback. \"No, it's too low,\" said a woman standing near me. But it\nwent out as soon as it came to the landing, and our light was\nimmediately extinguished, the cable was drawn back, the men leaped\naboard, and the boat was wheeled so suddenly into the stream that there\nwas great danger of bursting the boiler. We heard many inquiries as to\nwhat was the matter. But the fact ran quickly over the boat that there\nwere guerrillas after us. The running lantern we saw was carried by an\nold white man, who overheard the talk of more than forty men, who were\nsecreted in a clump of trees and bushes near the landing. They had\nplanned to capture the first steamer that stopped to wood at that\nplace, to take all on the boat as prisoners, strip it of everything on\nboard, and let it float down the river. The old man told the men not to\nlet it be known, if we were captured, that he had informed them of\nthis, as it would cost him his life. Such a scene of excitement I never\nwitnessed; men, as well as women, turned pale, and their voices\ntrembled. Yet many of them flew to their card tables, expecting every\nmoment to be shot into, and trembling with fear so as hardly to be able\nto hold their cards. The captain said if pouring tar into the furnace\nwould send us beyond a bayou near by before they could overtake us, he\nthought we should escape. After passing that point our colonel came to\nme and asked after my companion. I told him as she was not well she had\nretired very early, and I thought she had better not know any thing of\nthis excitement until morning, If we should escape; if not, it was time\nfor her to become excited when we were taken.\n\n\"How do you feel in such an hour as this?\" he asked.\n\n\"The God of Daniel lives at this hour,\" I answered, \"and in him I\ntrust.\"\n\n\"I see, you take it coolly,\" he replied, and looked surprised. I told\nhim I pitied those card-players, for it was a hard play for them, while\nstanding face to face with danger. \"You see it is an effort,\" he\nreplied, \"to keep danger out of mind as much as possible.\"\n\n\"But see their pale faces and trembling hands. O, what a poor\nsubstitute they have for substantial trust in an Almighty Power! You\nsee that gentleman and his wife sitting on the other side of the cabin.\nThey are calm and perfectly composed; they, too, have their pocket\nBible in hand. They are trusting children of the Most High, no doubt.\"\nHe thoughtfully looked over that crowded cabin a moment, and walked\naway.\n\nVery few retired before 12 o'clock, and those men and women were all\nthat time making an effort to quiet their nerves at their card-table.\nThe next morning our colonel called again with a little joke: \"You meet\ndanger so coolly, I think we had better take you with us to Texas for a\ngeneral.\"\n\nI was thankful for the improvement in sister Backus's health by a good\nnight's rest, and that we had escaped. Without further trouble we\nreached Vicksburg, but learned that the loudest cry for aid was in\nNatchez, and we hastened there with our supplies. We were offered a\nhome with Lieutenant Thirds and family, who had been invited to occupy\nrooms at Judge Bullock's. The judge was too strong a secessionist to\ntake the iron-clad oath of allegiance, though solicited by his wife;\nfor she feared they might lose their property by confiscation. To save\nit, he very blandly offered his parlor and best rooms in his large\nthree-story brick house, where we found very comfortable quarters.\nThrough Colonel Young, we obtained the use of a good-sized store on\nMain Street for our goods, and the surgeon of the freedmen's camp\nprovided for us a small room near the camp, where were congregated four\nthousand freedmen in condemned tents. These tents were so leaky that,\nfrom exposure, after heavy rains and wind, we had from five to fifteen\ndeaths in a day. Here we found constant work for head, heart, hands,\nand feet.\n\nBut few days elapsed at any time without hearing the roar of battle\nnear by, and sometimes the cloud of blue smoke met our eye. One battle\nwas fought within two miles by the negro soldiers, only a few days\nafter the terrible Fort Pillow massacre. They fought desperately. One\nof their officers told me they had to command their soldiers to stop,\nand they obeyed only at the point of the bayonet; for they mowed the\nenemy down like grass, although they lowered their colors and began to\nstack their arms. Their officers told them to stop firing; but a number\nof soldiers replied, while reloading, \"They hear no cry for quarter at\nFort Pillow,\" and fired again. But when the enemy stacked their arms\nthey were peremptorily ordered to stop. I didn't blame the boys for\nfeeling as they did over that awful massacre. But strange as it seems,\nnot one of our soldiers was killed, or even wounded. There was a white\nregiment in reserve, if needed; and the colored soldiers almost\nresented the idea that they needed any assistance whatever.\n\nThere was great excitement in the freedmen's camp that day over their\nvictory. Said one woman, whose husband and two sons were soldiers in\nthis battle:\n\n\"Why didn't you shoot away as long as one was lef'?\"\n\n\"Our officers compelled us to stop.\"\n\n\"I don't care for that; they need killin', _every one_.\"\n\nSaid I, \"You wouldn't kill the women, would you?\"\n\n\"Yes, I would,\" she answered; \"for they's wusser'n the men.\"\n\n\"Well, there are the innocent little children--you wouldn't kill them,\nwould you?\"\n\nHesitating a little, she said:\n\n\"Yes, I would, madam; for I tell you nits make vermin.\"\n\nShe and all her family had belonged to Judge Bullock's wife, and she\nwas still living in her little cabin and doing the work for the family,\nas she had done heretofore, though she did not work so hard. She would\ntake the time to do our washing for us. She said Judge Bullock was\nharder to please than her mistress; but he was afraid of our soldiers,\nand when Natchez was taken he kept hid in a thicket of bushes in the\ngarden a number of days. They took his meals to him when no one was in\nsight, expecting the Yankees would kill every man they met; but as he\nfound it otherwise he came into the house, and now he talked with us\nquite freely. Their slaves were mostly house-servants, and better\ntreated than many others. Judge Bullock was formerly from the North,\nand married in the South, and his wife inherited the slaves. Their cook\nwas a mulatto, of more than ordinary intelligence, and she told me of\nthe most terrible scenes of barbarity that she had witnessed.\n\nThe marks of cruelty were in that camp so frequently seen--men with\nbroken shoulders and limbs--that it was heart-sickening to listen to\nthe recital of their wrongs.\n\nOne man I saw with a shred of an ear, and I inquired how his ear became\ntorn like that. He hesitated to tell me, but one of his fellow-slaves\nsaid it was done by order of their master; that he was stripped and\nfastened by a large nail driven through his ear to a tree, and the\noverseer was directed to whip him on his naked body until his writhings\ntore his ear out, and that only ended the punishment. One man by the\nname of Matthew Lasley, living within two miles of this city, owned one\nhundred slaves, and was his own overseer. He worked his slaves early\nand late, and was proverbial for cruelty to them. They were not half\nfed or clothed. A few days after he had sold the wife and child of his\nslave Jack, they were burning log heaps and clearing off a few acres of\nnew ground. They had worked until about midnight, and were preparing to\n\"turn in.\" Jack had split an armful of kindling-wood, and was now ready\nto go to his lonely hut. Then his utter desolation rolled in upon his\nmind. When his master stooped over to light his cigar, the thought came\nto him like a flash to kill him, and then he too would die, and so\nwould end his bitter days. No sooner was the thought conceived than the\nact was done. The ax was buried in Lasley's head; and he sank, a dead\nman, without uttering a word. Jack came immediately to the city, tapped\non the window of Dr. Smith's sleeping apartment, the son-in-law of\nLasley, and told him he wanted him to go at once to the new clearing\nwith him. When the doctor went out Jack told him that he had killed his\nmaster.\n\n\"What did you do it for?\"\n\n\"Master sole my wife and chile, an' I don't want to live any longer.\nNow, master, you may shoot me, or take me to jail, or do any thing\nyou're a min' to.\"\n\n\"Well, Jack, I know you've had a hard time; but I shall have to take\nyou to jail, any how, and see what the court will do.\"\n\nAfter ordering Lasley's body to be taken care of, he returned to his\nwife and told her all, and added that he wondered he had not been\nkilled long before, as it was what he had looked for. Dr. Smith\nemployed one of the best lawyers in the city to plead Jack's case, and\nhad all the Lasley slaves brought into court, not one of whom was\nwithout marks of cruelty--a broken arm or leg, an ear cut off, or an\neye out. They were all in a nearly nude condition, three children under\nten years of age entirely so. The daughter begged her husband to allow\nbetter clothes for them; but the doctor and the lawyer insisted upon\ntheir coming into court with just the clothing provided for them by\ntheir master The lawyer made an eloquent plea for Jack, and pointed to\nthe hundred slaves, maimed and crippled and almost naked, and Jack was\nacquitted. Lasley's extreme cruelty had created a public sentiment in\nJack's favor, so that unexpectedly to himself his life was saved. Jack\nwas hunting for his wife and child among the multitude, but had not yet\nsucceeded in finding them.\n\nWeek after week was spent in making personal investigations, measuring\nand preparing bundles for those nearly naked. As new refugees were\ndaily coming in, the officers found it necessary to organize a new camp\nover the river, in the rear of Vidalia, Louisiana, on the Ralston\nplantation. As a few hundred were gathered there we went over and found\nthem exceedingly destitute. There were twenty families, mostly of those\nrecently enlisted as soldiers. Some of them were almost ready to\ndesert. Said one, \"They say we are free, and what sort of freedom is\nthis, for us to see our families without a board, shingle, or canvas to\ncover their heads? We are concluding to leave our regiment and build\nsomething to shelter our wives and children. They haven't got a place\nto sleep at night except in the open field.\" We told them we would make\ntheir families our first care, and advised them not to leave. Upon this\nthey became more calm, and concluded to wait armpits, as I chose to\nkeep my arms out in case of tipping over. Here came brother Reed, one\nof the teachers, offering to aid me; but he had no pass or\ntransportation, and no time to get it. I called the attention of a\npassing general to my necessity for help, to be able to return before\nthe firing of the sundown gun. He said if he was in command he would\nallow him to go with my load, and advised him to try it. On we\nhastened, but met an ambulance that Captain Howe had sent to the new\ncamp for a sick woman with two small children. It was obliged to\nreturn, not being able to pass through the lines, as the provost\nmarshal was not to be found. The supposition was very strong that the\nlines were closed, as it was the weakest point in the post, and the\nsmoke of rebel fires was in sight on Lake Concordia. A battle had been\nfought a few days before, and another attack was-daily threatened. The\ndriver and brother Reed were doubting the propriety of crossing the\nriver. \"For if the lines are closed,\" they said, \"the President himself\nwould not be permitted to pass.\" But I told them as they did not\npositively know that the lines were closed, we had better cross.\n\n\"It is your load, and if you say go we shall go,\" said brother Reed.\n\n\"I say go,\" was my decision.\n\nSoon we were in front of the provost marshal's office. But he was not\nthere, and no one knew where he was. After a long search, in accordance\nwith my plea, some of the guards discovered and brought him back,\nreeling, with his head of long hair thoroughly decorated with feathers\nand straws. I met him in his office and read to him my papers, holding,\nthem before his face as I would exhibit a picture to a two-year old\nbaby. After explaining all, I made my request to pass his lines with my\nload of supplies.\n\n\"Who--who's there?\"\n\nI told him who he was that so kindly offered to aid me in disbursing\nthese supplies just as I was starting; and that a general advised me to\ntake him with my load, as he would pass him, if in command.\n\n\"Well, well, I don'--don't--li-like--this--whole--whole-sa-sale\nbusiness.\"\n\nBut I pleaded for those suffering women and children with all the\npoliteness I was capable of mastering, with disgust boiling over. With\nstuttering and mumbling his dislikes, and shaking his head, with the\nfeathers and straws waving and nodding in every direction, he took his\npen and scribbled a pass that was difficult to decipher. The next line\nof guards hardly knew what to do with it until I told them the provost\nmarshal was drunk.\n\n\"O, yes, and it's no new trick; go on.\"\n\nAnd without further difficulty we reached the group of sufferers, who\nwere shivering as if in an ague fit. I threw to each family two\nblankets or quilts, and more than forty children were crawling between\nthem within three minutes. I gave to each of those twenty women a suit\nof men's clothing that day to help them out of this intense suffering.\nI gave them also three rag-carpet blankets out of the four that were\nsent me by a woman who took up a new rag-carpet she had just put down,\nand cut it into four pieces after listening to the recital of the great\nsuffering in these camps. She said she should put no more carpets on\nher floor as long as the war lasted.\n\nAlthough I had seen so many marks of cruelty among these people, yet I\nsaid to myself, O that these poor people had remained in their old\nhomes a little longer! Surely they can not suffer there like this. A\nlittle girl came for me to go to the old blacksmith-shop used as a\ntemporary hospital, as her mother thought her brother was dying, and\nanother brother was very sick. I entered that shop, and listened to the\ngroans of the dying. I repeated to myself, O that they had waited a\nlittle longer! Four men and the little son of the distressed mother\nthat sent for me were evidently dying, and four others were sick with\npneumonia. The mother of these two sick boys was doing all she could\nfor them all. I gave her ground mustard to make poultices, and ginger\nfor those who had chills, and told her how to use them. I had a few\npounds of each, and generally took a little package with me, especially\nafter a storm. This miserable shelter leaked but little, but one side\nand one end were so open that we could throw a hat through the wall.\n\nI saw a pile of irons by the door. Placing my foot on a queer double\njointed ring, I said:\n\n\"I wonder what that queer sort of a ring could have been used for,\"\nlooking toward the old dilapidated cotton-gin near by.\n\n\"That's a neck iron,\" said an old woman standing near me.\n\n\"A neck-iron! What do you mean?\"\n\n\"Why, it's an iron collar to wear on the neck.\"\n\n\"But you are certainly mistaken,\" said I, picking it up; \"you see these\njoints are riveted with iron as large as my finger, and it could never\nbe taken off over one's head.\"\n\n\"But we knows; dat's Uncle Tim's collar. An' he crawled off in dat\nfence-corner,\" pointing to the spot, \"an' died thar, an' Massa George\nhad his head cut off to get de iron off.\"\n\n\"Is it possible for a human being to become so brutal as to cut a man's\nhead off when he is dead?\"\n\nShe looked as if she thought I doubted her word, and said: \"It didn't\nhurt Uncle Tim when he was dead as it did when de iron wore big sores\nway down to de bone, and da got full o' worms afore he died. His neck\nan' head all swell up, an' he prayed many, many prayers to God to come\nand take him out his misery.\"\n\n\"How long did he wear it?\"\n\n\"'Bout two years.\"\n\n\"Two years! It is impossible for any one to live that length of time\nwith this rough heavy iron.\"\n\n[Illustration: SLAVE IRONS IN POSSESSION OF THE AUTHOR]\n\n\"We work two seasons, any how, over in dat cotton-fiel',\" pointing to\nthe two-hundred-acre cotton-field at our right.\n\nI took up another iron, and inquired, \"What sort of an iron is this?\"\n\n\"A knee-stiffener, to w'ar on de leg to keep 'em from runnin' off in\ndat swamp,\" pointing to the dark swamp bordering Lake Concordia, so\nfully draped with long Southern moss that in many places in it nothing\ncould be discovered three feet in the thicket.\n\nI went to the rear of the shop, with the ring under my shawl. Here\nstood a dozen or more of old and crippled men and women.\n\n\"Did any of this company,\" I asked, \"live on this plantation before the\nwar?\"\n\n\"Yes, missus, six of us live here. I live here seven year.\"\n\nI drew out the collar, and asked if any one could tell me what that\nwas. One looked at another, and asked where I found it.\n\n\"In that pile of irons by the door,\" I replied.\n\nOne said, in a low tone, \"Dat's Uncle Tim's collar.\"\n\n\"Yes, missus, dat is iron collar to wear on de neck.\"\n\n\"But you see it is fastened with heavy iron rivets.\"\n\n\"Yes, de way you see it is 'case Massa George Ralston order Uncle Tim's\nhead cut off to get de collar.\"\n\n\"I want this collar,\" I said, \"and another heavy iron a woman called a\nknee-stiffener. This plantation is confiscated, and these irons belong\nto you as much as to any body. Will you give them to me?\"\n\nEach seemed to wait for the others to speak, but the one to whom I had\nmostly directed my conversation at length replied:\n\n\"I reckon you can have 'em; for we's had all we wants ov 'em.\"\n\n\"I thank you; and if you can find any other slave-irons in that pile I\nwish you would pick them out for me to take home to Michigan, to show\nwhat sort of jewelry the colored people had to wear down here.\"\n\nThey turned over the heap, and found iron horns, hand-cuffs, etc., and\nexplained how they were worn. They showed me also where the iron rod\nupon which was suspended a bell was cut off of Uncle Tim's collar.\n\nAmong the group was a crippled man walking with two canes, clad in\ntattered cotton clothes, that were hanging in frozen strings from his\narms like icicles. I selected a whole suit for him, and a soldier's\novercoat. He stepped in the rear of a cabin and changed, and came to me\nweeping.\n\n\"I come to show you,\" he said; \"dis is de best dressin' I's ever had in\nmy life. An' I thanks you, an' praise God.\"\n\nAs we were standing on the bank of the river waiting for the return of\nthe ferry on her last trip that day, there were thirty or forty men\nwaiting, who by their favorite gray appeared to be rebel citizens; but\nour many bristling bayonets kept them in subjection. The ferry soon\ntook us over the river, and we were within our post before the sundown\ngun was fired.\n\nAs I had brought the sick woman and two little children that Captain\nHowe had sent his ambulance for in the morning, in one wagon, I must go\nto his hospital with them. This made us so late that the guard said I\ncould not be allowed to enter the camp without a permit from the\nofficer of the night. I told him where I had been all day without a\nfire; and as he knew the storm had continued until late in the\nafternoon, and this sick woman whom the captain had sent for could not\nget through the lines in the morning, I hoped he would read my papers.\nHe held up his lantern to see them; but as soon as he caught sight of\nmy old portfolio he said, \"Go on, I know who you are; I've seen that\nbefore.\" I was permitted to leave my sick family in the hospital, and\ndrove the two miles to our head-quarters by eight o'clock. Although\nvery much chilled, I felt relieved, notwithstanding I had witnessed\nsuch scenes of suffering and dying during that eventful day.\n\nOne morning the little drummer-boy of twelve years of age marched into\ncamp with seven men that he had taken prisoners, ragged and almost\nbarefooted. The suffering men were glad to find comfortable quarters.\nOccasionally we found them tamely submitting to be taken, on account of\ntheir sufferings for want of food and clothing. One entire company, who\nsuffered themselves to be captured, told our officers if they would\nallow them to wear out of sight some sort of a Union mark, so as not to\nmeet with trouble from our soldiers, they would go and bring in their\nentire regiment, as they all wanted to come into our lines. They were\nfurnished with a badge of national colors to wear under their coats.\nSoon the whole regiment were with us. One of our officers said they\nwere among our most efficient helps. One of them told me if they had\nknown the real object of the war they would never have gone into it;\nfor more than half of them had never owned a slave, and those who did\nwere better off without them. They were surprised to find an attendance\nof supplies. They had always been told that all the difference between\nthe Northern people and their slaves was the color of their skin.\n\nThere was great excitement during the last presidential campaign. The\nslave passed through terrible experiences during 1860-61. It seemed to\nbe accepted as a settled fact, that if Lincoln was elected it would\nresult in war; and in many places regular drills were instituted. In\nNatchez the half-grown slave boys got together on Sunday afternoons,\nand drilled with sticks for guns. At first it attracted no particular\nattention, and the boys became as expert in handling their stick guns\nas were their masters. Two slave men were overheard repeating what\ntheir master said, that if Lincoln was elected he would free all the\nslaves, for he was a Black Republican; and they declared that if this\nwas true they would go to the Yankees and help to free their nation.\nThis talk was sufficient to raise the report of an insurrection\nthroughout all that part of the State, and a large vigilance committee\nwas organized to meet once a week and report what they might hear by\nlistening outside the negro cabins. All slave men or boys who were\noverheard to pray for freedom, or to say any thing indicating a desire\nto be free, were marked; and in the discussions of this large committee\nof a hundred men, every thing that had occurred during a few years\npast, in efforts among the slaves to learn to read and write, was\nmagnified and construed as pointing toward a long and settled purpose\namong the slaves to rise in insurrection. A majority of this committee\ndecided by whipping and other torture to compel confessions from all\nthese marked slaves, and then to hang them. A number of the committee\nresigned because they would not consent to these severe measures. Many\nnegroes were dragged out of their cabins or yards without knowing the\ncause, stripped, tied to the whipping-post or taken to the calaboose,\nand given as many lashes as could be endured. At the close of each\nwhipping the sufferer was called upon to make a full revelation of\nevery sentence that he or she had heard in favor of liberty, or of the\nYankees, among their people, either in conversation or prayer, and by\nwhom, with a promise to be released from further punishment. Never was\none released, but on Saturday generally ten or twelve of these\nsufferers were thrown into a wagon and conveyed to the gallows, where\nthey were placed in a row, and all were hanged at the same instant.\n\nSome hundreds were thus hanged in the edge of the city, and on an\nadjoining plantation. I carefully investigated the facts, and gathered\nthe following statement from both white and colored citizens. I have\ngood reasons for placing entire confidence in its correctness. A large\nnumber of slaves were hanged, owned by the following persons:\n\nFrank Susetts, 26; James Susetts, 7; Dr. Stanton, 8; Dr. Moseby, 26;\nwidow Albert Dunbar, 48; Mrs. Brady, 12; widow E. Baker, 28; Mrs.\nAlexander, 16; Dr. George Baldwin, 8; Stephen Odell, 5; G. Grafton, 5;\nJames Brown, 3; Mr. Marshall, 1; Mr. Robinson, 2; Melon Davis, 1; widow\nAbsalom Sharp, 3; Miss Mary Dunbar, 3; Joseph Reynolds, 2; Baker\nRobinson, 3; Lee Marshall, whipped to death 1; Mrs. Chase, whipped to\ndeath 1; a total of 209.\n\nI was told by a number of persons, both white and colored, that there\nwere over four hundred tortured to death in this reign of terror,\nbefore Natchez fell into Union hands, but I put in my diary only such\nas I found were proven to be facts.\n\nMiss Mary Dunbar was very much distressed over the loss of one of her\nthree slaves who were hanged, and offered the vigilance committee ten\nthousand dollars for his release, but to no purpose. Joseph Reynolds\nalso offered the committee $100,000 for the release of his two, but was\ndenied. One little boy of twelve years of age was taken to the\ncalaboose and whipped, then taken with the wagon-load of other victims\nof their unrelenting cruelty to the scaffold, followed by his mother in\nwild despair, praying as she went through the streets, tossing her\nhands upward: \"O, God, save my poor boy! O, Jesus Master, pity my poor\nchild! O, Savior, look down upon my poor baby!\" The woman who went with\nher to the scaffold said she cried these words over and over; \"and when\nwe got there,\" she said, \"she fell on her knees before the head man,\nand begged for the life of her baby. But he kicked her on her head, and\ncursed her, and told her the boy had got to die. The boy exhorted his\nmother not to grieve so for him, 'for I'm going to Jesus; meet me in\nheaven;' and he, with eleven others, were swung off. The mother cried\nout, 'Oh, my God! my poor son!' and feinted.\" So perfect was this reign\nof terror that not even slave-owners, in many cases, dared to protest\nagainst this wholesale butchery. The repeated whippings mangled the\nbodies of many so badly that they were taken to the gallows in a dying\nstate. One man died while being taken upon the scaffold; his sides were\ncut through to the entrails, and even a part of them protruded. I\nvisited the calaboose, which had two apartments. The first entrance was\nlarge enough for two persons to be fastened to the strong iron staples.\nThere was room for two men to each victim, one on each side, who,\nseated on a stool, could alternate the strokes upon the writhing\nsufferer. The floor of this calaboose was of hard wood, but it was so\nthoroughly stained with human gore that the grain of the wood could not\nbe distinguished. Into the second room not a ray of light entered\nexcept on opening the middle door.\n\nFrank Susetts was a millionaire in the city of Baton Rouge, Louisiana,\nand made his boast that he had no fear of Yankees, for he had gold\nenough to cover his front walk from the door to the gate, and could buy\nup any Yankee who might attempt to trouble him. \"There are two things,\"\nhe said, \"they can never do: First, make me poor; second, make me take\nthe oath of allegiance.\" He owned nine plantations, besides very much\ncity property. Though hundreds of his slaves had left him, he felt\nhimself secure in the abundance of his wealth. The government engineer,\nwho had been casting about for the best place to locate a fort, had\nbeen looking over Frank Susetts's place and said it was the most\nelevated and desirable location he had found in the city, but he rather\nhesitated because of the magnificent buildings it would destroy. When\nSusetts's independent words reached his ear he at once decided, and\ntook his men the second time to look over the ground. Standing near the\npalatial mansion, and within hearing of the owner, he said to his men,\n\"Yes, yes, this is the place for our fort.\"\n\nFrank Susetts approached him with the offer of thirty thousand dollars\nin gold if he would spare his place.\n\n\"I can not accept it, sir,\" said the engineer.\n\n\"I will give you fifty thousand dollars in gold if you will save it. It\ncost me one hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars to build this\nhouse and the out-houses.\"\n\n\"Should you offer all that you say it cost you, it would be of no\nconsequence. We give you ten days to take away every thing movable from\nyour premises, for this house will then be destroyed to make room for\nthe fort. This is the site we have selected.\"\n\nAt the expiration of the time set, it was in flames. Frank Susetts and\nwife stood a block distant weeping. Two of their former slaves were\nlooking at the conflagration.\n\n\"Ah,\" said one, \"a little while ago it was massa Susetts's time, when\nhe had so many of our people hung; now it is God's time. Praise de\nLo'd, he's here to-day for sure. Glory to Jesus, massa Susetts's day is\nover; he can never have any more of our people hung.\"\n\nIt was now the 21st day of March, 1864. Many complained of these turned\ntables. Judge Bullock remarked that he couldn't even go to meeting\nwithout a \"pass;\" just what used to be required of the six thousand\nfreed slaves who were then in this city of refuge. Painters were seen\nin various parts of the city dexterously using their brushes in wiping\nout standing advertisements for the sales of slaves. I saw a number of\nthese whitewashed signs. In some cases the paint was too thin to hide\nthem. \"Slaves, horses, mules, cattle, plantation utensils sold on\nreasonable terms.\" They knew these advertisements were not agreeable to\nNorthern eyes. But I fear the covering of many of these hearts was as\nfrail as the thin whitewashing over these advertisements.\n\nOn the Ralston plantation we visited families, gave tickets, and\ndirected them to meet us at the place and hour appointed. Hundreds in\nsqualid wretchedness were supplied. The following day, in the\nafternoon, all orphan children were to meet us. One hundred and\ntwenty-two ragged children came. We placed them in two rows, the boys\non one side and the girls on the other. Selecting each an assistant, we\ncommenced measuring and distributing, keeping them all standing in\ntheir respective places until we had given every one something, but yet\ntoo little to meet their necessary wants. There were at that time\ntwenty-seven teachers and missionaries in the city representing nine\nStates. Six day-schools and three night-schools were established by\nthem. Two other schools were taught by colored teachers; one of these\nwas a slave woman, who had taught a midnight school for years. It was\nopened at eleven or twelve o'clock at night, and closed at two o'clock\nA. M. Every window and door was carefully closed to prevent discovery.\nIn that little school hundreds of slaves learned to read and write a\nlegible hand. After toiling all day for their masters they crept\nstealthily into this back alley, each with a bundle of pitch-pine\nsplinters for lights. Milla Granson, the teacher, learned to read and\nwrite from the children of her indulgent master in her old Kentucky\nhome. Her number of scholars was twelve at a time, and when she had\ntaught these to read and write she dismissed them, and again took her\napostolic number and brought them up to the extent of her ability,\nuntil she had graduated hundreds. A number of them wrote their own\npasses and started for Canada, and she supposes succeeded, as they were\nnever heard from. She was sold after her master's death, and brought to\nMississippi, and placed on a plantation as a field-hand; but, not being\nused to field-work, she found it impossible to keep up with the old\nhands, and the overseer whipped her severely.\n\n\"O, how I longed to die!\" she told me; \"and sometimes I thought I would\ndie from such cruel whippings upon my bared body. O, what a vale of\ntears this was for poor me! But one thing kept me from sinking, and\nthat was the presence of my dear Savior.\"\n\nHer health so far gave way that she reeled with weakness as she went to\nand from her work; and her master saw she was failing, and gave her\npermission, to go into the kitchen a part of the time.\n\n\"O, how thankful I was,\" she went on, \"for this promotion! and I worked\nas hard to keep it as any Congressman could work for some high office.\"\n\nAt length her night-school project leaked out, and was for a time\nsuspended; but it was not known that seven of the twelve years since\nleaving Kentucky had been spent in this work. Much excitement over her\nnight-school was produced. The subject was discussed in their\nlegislature, and a bill was passed, that it should not be held illegal\nfor a slave to teach a slave.\n\n\"All this time,\" said this dear woman, \"I constantly prayed that God\nwould overrule this to his own glory, and not allow those I had taught\nto read his Word to suffer, as we had been threatened. I can not tell\nyou how my heart leaped with praise to God when a gentleman called to\nme one day on the street, and said he would inform me that I could\nteach my midnight school if I chose, as they found, no law against a\nslave teaching a slave.\"\n\nThis was accepted by that trembling teacher and scholars as a direct\nanswer to prayer. She not only opened her night-school, but a\nSabbath-school. I found more intelligence among the colored residents\nof this city than any other Southern city I had visited. Milla Granson\nused as good language as any of the white people.\n\nWe found many little incidents to cheer in all our rounds of pitiable\nscenes of sorrow. We sometimes met men and women among these\nSoutherners of correct views on secession. One man said he never\nbelieved that slavery was right; all the arguments brought forward in\nits favor never convinced him. Although he held a few slaves by\ninheritance, he never could buy or sell one. His black people remained\nwith him, and he paid them wages now that they were free by law, and he\nwas glad of it. As he was nearly sixty years of age he had managed to\nkeep out of the army, but had to keep quiet on the subject of\nsecession. From the first he thought it the height of folly to resort\nto arms, as the Lord could not prosper their undertaking. I believe\nthat man was a conscientious Christian; very different in spirit from\nJudge Bullock, who said one day in rather a careless mood, \"I think you\nhave one class of men in your North the most despicable I ever knew.\"\nNow, thought I, we abolitionists are going to take a blessing. \"Who are\nthey?\" I asked. \"They are that class you call Copperheads. They are too\ndastardly to come down here and help us fight, and they are too\npusillanimous to fight for their own side.\"\n\nOur daily work was very wearisome, having to walk from four to six\nmiles each day. Fresh arrivals daily required our attention, and after\nwind or rain pneumonia and deaths were frequent. Bible-reading and\nprayer were also a part of our mission. One day, while sister Backus\nwas opening barrels and boxes, and sorting and arranging their contents\nin our store, I went with a load, in a recently confiscated stage-coach\ndrawn by mules. One of the mules the colonel said he was afraid to\nallow me to ride after; but I thought a little mule could do but little\nharm with the experienced driver, and I ventured the ride, taking in a\npoor crippled man on the way, who was just coming into camp. He was\nclad in a few cotton rags that he had patched with old stocking-tops\nand bits of old tent-cloth, to hold them together, and it was\nimpossible to detect the original fabric. In passing down the \"Paradise\nRoad\" to the camp in Natchez-under-the-Hill, the unruly mule pranced,\nkicked, and reared, until both of them became unmanageable, and the\ndust rolled up a thick cloud, hiding the way before us, as well as the\ngalloping mules.\n\nI believed that we should turn over at the short curve near the base of\nthe hill, where was a number of large stumps; and that if we should\nstrike one of them we should be dashed in pieces. But prayer for a\nguiding hand seemed in a moment to bring relief. We were overturned\namid stumps, and were dragged a few rods on the side of the coach, when\nthe canvas covering was detached from the wheels. Our driver was\ndragged a few rods farther, while the crippled man and myself were\ndoing our best to crawl from under the canvas. By this time fifteen or\ntwenty men reached us. I was out and hauling the canvas off the\ngroaning man, whose head and face were covered with blood. I told one\nof the men to run for a pail of water, for I thought the poor man must\nbe dying.\n\n\"O, no, it's all right,--it'll make me a better man,\" said he, while\ncatching his breath, and wiping the blood from his mouth.\n\n\"You had better sit down yourself; you are badly hurt,\" said one of the\nmen.\n\n\"O no, I am not hurt,\" was my reply.\n\nBut as I was getting a little child's shirt ready for the men to wash\nthe crippled man's head, I found the front breadth of my dress torn\nacross, and I had to throw back my bonnet to see; but I knew my limbs\nwere all sound. Although it seemed as if we had turned many somersaults\nin a second, yet I never felt more vigorous. I knew the surgeon of that\ncamp was within a few rods of us, and requested some one to go for him\nto care for my comrade. I saw a man carefully washing out the large\ngashes on his head, and I left for the surgeon, holding my torn\ndress-skirt in my hand. Just as I reached his office he was jumping on\nhis horse, starting for me. He exclaimed in surprise, \"Why, Mrs.\nHaviland! I've just this moment got the word that you were nearly\nkilled, and I was going to see you.\"\n\n\"I am all right,\" I said; \"but I wish you would go and see to that\ncrippled man, for I am afraid he is nearly killed.\"\n\n\"Very well, but I shall look after you first.\"\n\nBy this time he was handling my arms, and pressing here and there on my\nbody, I thought pretty harshly; for he either found or made some sore\nplaces. He ordered his ambulance, in which I was taken to\nhead-quarters. As I was badly bruised, the surgeon urged me to take\nmorphine. I was sure of not needing it, but promised to call for it if\nneeded, and he allowed me to go without it. I found myself too lame to\nresume work for a couple of days; then I commenced again moderately,\nbut carried marks of bruised flesh for a month or more.\n\nAbout two weeks after this, while investigating a new arrival of a\ncompany of slaves, I learned that some of them were shot by their\npursuing masters, and one woman's babe was instantly killed in its\nmother's arms; but the mother succeeded in passing into our lines, with\nher dead child in her arms, to be buried, as she said, \"_free_.\" A\nwoman and a little boy of three years, with dresses torn with briers to\nshreds, and feet and limbs swollen and bleeding with scratches, came\nin, from whom I was getting her sad history. Two gentlemen passing by,\nhalted, and said one:\n\n\"This looks as if these would have been much better off at their old\nhomes. Don't you think so?\"\n\n\"I think this picture shows great effort in escaping from their old\nhome,\" I replied.\n\n\"Do you live here?\"\n\n\"I am only a temporary resident here. My home is in Michigan.\"\n\n\"May I ask your name?\"\n\nI gave it, and he continued:\n\n\"And so am I from Michigan. I've heard of you before, I thought this\nwas some good Samaritan,\" giving his hand for a hearty shake.\n\n\"And who is this?\" I asked.\n\n\"I'm Dr.----, from one of our Michigan cities. And what are you doing\nhere?\"\n\n\"I am doing just the work you see before us.\"\n\n\"Yes, and I saw a span of mules trying their best to kill her two weeks\nago, when they came sailing down that Paradise Road up yonder; but they\ncouldn't do it,\" said his guide.\n\nI asked him what he was doing. He said he had just come to see if there\nwas any thing he could do. I told him of the new camp on the Ralston\nplantation, and of this camp of four thousand. I hoped he would look\nafter these, as we proposed to leave soon for other fields of labor\nbelow.\n\nOn March 24, 1864, I took letters to post-office, and found one from\nour dear friend, Addie Johnson, assistant matron of Soldiers' Home, in\nColumbus, Kentucky. I went to General Tuttle for an order for\ntransportation to Baton Rouge, and, as usual, introduced myself by\nhanding my official papers. Being a very large man, he was in\nproportion consequential.\n\n\"What do you want?\"\n\nI told him I would like transportation to Baton Rouge.\n\n\"I don't know,\" he said; \"that I am here to make the Government a great\nbenevolent society, by giving every thoroughly loyal and earnest\nChristian man or woman transportation.\"\n\n\"Is there not an order,\" I replied, \"from Adjutant-general Thomas,\ngranting us transportation, rations, and quarters?\"\n\n\"I have received no such order personally.\"\n\nI bade him good morning, and left his office, fully determined to bring\nhim an order, although I knew he must have seen one. My purpose was to\ntake the first boat to Vicksburg, as General Thomas was then in that\ncity, to see whether his order was to be honored. Passing Colonel\nYoung's office, I called to see if he could grant the favor, and found\nthat he could give the transportation desired, consequently I left the\ngeneral without troubling him further. On my return I called at the\nother mission store, and met brother Burlingame and Isaac Thorne, who\nalso wished to go below, but were doubtful whether General Tuttle would\ngive them transportation They said they were waiting to learn of my\nsuccess, and were surprised to find that Colonel Young had the power to\ngrant it.\n\nWe took the steamer \"J. H. Russell\" for Baton Rouge. On March 27th\nSunday morning, we passed the mouth of Red River, where was a gun boat,\nfrom which a few prisoners were taken aboard of our boat. A woman named\nCrosly was also taken on board, to go to New Orleans for the purpose of\nexposing those who had run through our lines contraband goods. There\nwas a woman of property and standing on the boat, who still held her\nhousehold servants, and made her boast that no one could even hire her\nslaves to leave her.\n\n\"I'd like to see any one offer my niggers a book,\" she declared. \"I\nreckon they'd take it as an insult. They'd tell you mighty quick they'd\nno use for books or schools. The niggers never will be as happy as they\nhave been. They'll soon die out. It's fearful to see them die off as\nthey do in these camps. They know nothing of taking care of themselves.\nThey are cared for by us as tenderly as our own children. I tell you,\nthey are the happiest people that live in this country. If they are\nsick the doctor is sent for, and they are cared for in every way, they\nknow nothing of care.\"\n\n\"If they are such a happy class of people, how was it that you had such\na time of punishing and hanging them within the last two years?\" I\nasked.\n\n\"O, that had to be done to save our lives, because they were about to\nrise in an awful insurrection.\"\n\n\"But what would induce them to rise in insurrection, when they are so\nhappy and contented as you have described?\"\n\n\"O, there is always somebody ready to put the devil in their heads,\"\nwas her ready reply.\n\nBut Mrs. Crosly's report was of a very different character. She said,\n\"There has never been the half told of this hell upon earth--the awful\nwickedness on these Red River plantations, where I have lived ever\nsince I was fifteen years old. If you knew what I have passed through,\nyou would not wonder that there is nothing but a wreck left of me. I\nmarried a plantation blacksmith when a young girl of fifteen, and left\nmy people in Indiana, as my husband was hired by a rich slave-holder,\nMr. Samuel Lay, who lived on Red River. We lived on his plantation many\nyears, though he used to do a great deal in ironing negroes for\nneighboring planters.\"\n\nI told her of the slave-irons I had found on a deserted plantation, to\ntake to my Michigan home.\n\n\"Don't let the people here know it,\" she said, \"or they will take them\nfrom you and drop them in the river; for they bury them, or throw them\nin the river or creek, to put them out of sight of Yankees. When the\ncity was taken they sent painters all over the city, with brushes and\npaint-buckets, to paint over all advertising signs of slaves for sale,\nand hid all slave-irons they could lay hands on.\"\n\nI told her that was done in Natchez, when that city was taken.\n\n\"And that is just what they did,\" she went on, \"in Vicksburg. Among the\nslave-irons you found, were there any of those new-fashioned gags?\"\n\nI told her that there were not.\n\n\"You ought to get some of them. If I were at home I could get you two\nor three kinds; but you ought to see the new gags anyhow. They are made\nwith barbs, as they make on fish-hooks, and they pierce the tongue if\nthey attempt to speak or make a noise. They can't live many hours with\none of them in their mouths, for the tongue swells up so. Mr. Lay had\nan old slave woman we called Aunt Hannah whipped, and gagged with that\nnew gag, and left her all night in her cabin; and when I opened her\ndoor her tongue was swollen out of her mouth and looked so awful, I\nwouldn't have known her if she hadn't been in her own cabin. I told 'em\nshe groaned so, I reckoned she was dying, and they sent for the doctor\nto come and cut the barbs out, and he told Mr. Lay she would have died\nin an hour longer. It was a long time before she recovered from it. But\nas near as she was to dying, the overseer left Ben all night with that\nkind of a gag; and they found him dead in the morning. You of the North\nhave no idea of the perfect hell upon earth we've had down here. Mr.\nLay brought Alice from Kentucky, and she'd been a kitchen-maid, and\nnever worked in the cotton-field till she came here. The overseer was a\nmighty hard man, and he drew that long whip of his over her shoulders\nso often because she couldn't keep up with the other hands, that she\nran away in the bush and was gone two days before they caught her. Then\nthey whipped her awfully, and in two or three days they drove her out\nin the field. Within a week she ran away again, and was gone about two\nweeks. They caught her with the help of bloodhounds; and when she was\nbrought in, her arms were torn by the dogs, and I trembled for the poor\ngirl, for I knew they'd nearly kill her. Sure enough, the first I knew\nmy husband had her at his shop, to iron her with a full set. There was\na knee-stiffener, an iron collar with a bell, and a pair of handcuffs,\nwith a chain between to allow her to use the hoe. When I saw the heavy\nirons I went to the shop and begged Mr. Crosly not to iron Alice like\nthat, for it would kill her, as she was badly torn by the dogs. But he\nswore at me, and told me to go back into the house, were I belonged;\nthis was his business. I went back and cried over it till it appeared I\ncouldn't live; and I went out again and begged him not to put on all\nthese irons; for he knew they were heavier than the law allowed, and he\nwould commit murder, for she could not live in this way. But he only\nswore at me the more. At this Mrs. Lay came out in a rage, and said she\nwould see whether any one could come in and interfere with the\npunishment of any of her slaves, and ordered another slave to cut\nacross both of her feet with a pocket-knife, through the skin, so that\nblood was left in her tracks. I turned away, for I thought they would\nmurder the poor girl before my eyes; and I cried myself sick and\ncouldn't sleep, for I thought she must die before morning. The\ncotton-field was opposite my window, and after breakfast I watched to\nsee the hands go to their work; and, sure enough, there was poor Alice\nhobbling out into the cotton-field. They had been at work but a little\nwhile when a heavy blow from the whip-handle on the back of her head\nbrought her to the ground. 'O, my God!' I cried, to see that overseer\nhit her like that because she couldn't keep up her row. I prayed God\nthat Alice might die at once and be out of her misery; and, sure\nenough, they brought her out of that field dead! I was glad of it. Poor\ngirl! she could suffer no more under their hands.\"\n\n\"And did not her death call forth some action from the law?\" I asked.\n\n\"Nothing of the kind was ever noticed on our plantation. I tell you it\nwas a perfect hell on earth down here; you don't know anything about\nit; and yet, if these things are told, they'll deny it, and call them\nblack abolition lies, when it's God's truth, and they know it. There\nwas Uncle Jack, poor fellow! He ran away, and they brought him in with\nthe bounds, after he'd been gone a week, and they made him strip and\nlie down on his face, and fastened his hands and feet to iron rings.\nThen a man sat on each side of him to do the whipping, alternating in\ntheir strokes from his feet to his head, then back to his feet, and so\nback and forth until they'd given him one hundred lashes. I passed by\nthem, and saw his back cut up to a raw jelly, and the flesh twitched as\nyou've seen newly killed beef. But this was not all. They took burning\npitch-pine slivers and held them over his quivering flesh, dropping the\nmelted blazing pitch from his head to his feet. After this awful\ntorture, the two men carried him to his cabin, I thought, to die; and I\nhad another all-night cry over Uncle Jack, He was not able to go out in\nthe field again for two weeks.\"\n\nMrs. Crosly related many other incidents in her own experience, some of\nwhich are too shocking for the public eye or ear.\n\n\"My husband,\" she said, \"bought two slave women, one of whom was the\nmother of two illegitimate children, that my children were compelled by\ntheir father to address as brother and sister. He also brought the\nmother to my apartments, and occupied my parlor bedroom with her for\nyears--all to aggravate me. I didn't blame the woman Molly, for she\ncouldn't help herself. She and I cried together over this state of\nthings for hours, many a time. She often begged my husband to let her\nlive a virtuous life, but it was of no use. He would only threaten to\npunish her. Poor thing! we felt sorry for each other, and she used to\ndo all she could for me. I am so thankful she can now go where she\npleases. She took her two children, and with the other woman went as\nsoon as they could get through the lines. I am so glad all the slaves\nare free. Mr. Crosly has got our oldest boy with him in the army, and\nthreatens to take my youngest boy of fourteen. But the Union officers\nsay they will confiscate our property and make it over to me and my\nboys, so that Mr. Crosly can not take it from me.\"\n\nThe terrible scenes she had passed through, and witnessed,\nsubstantiated our oft expressed opinion that unlimited power on the\npart of slave-owners was equally degrading to the slave-holder and to\nthe slave. Even more: it fostered the worst passions of a depraved\nnature. Her experience was no isolated one. Such cases in many\nlocalities were neither few nor far between.\n\nOn March 28th we learned, with surprise, that the bright light we saw\nthe evening before, as we came from the soldiers' meeting, was the\nsteamer \"J. H. Russell\" burning to the water's edge. No lives were\nlost, but all the baggage of passengers and many mules, horses, cattle,\nand sheep and other government supplies were destroyed. O, how thankful\nwe were that we exchanged boats when we did, and were safely landed\nhere in Baton Rouge. \"Bless the Lord, O my soul! and forget not all his\nbenefits,\" was my first thought. How many favors are often bestowed in\ndisguise!\n\nAt three o'clock, P. M., I attended a meeting of colored people at the\nMethodist Episcopal Church, which was built by themselves, and upon\ninvitation addressed them. I spoke perhaps twenty minutes, taking for\nmy theme Psalm cxi, 12: \"I know the Lord will maintain the cause of the\nafflicted, and the right of the poor.\" At the close of the meeting the\ncolored people gathered around us, and gave us such a hand-shaking and\n\"God bless you\" as we seldom find outside of this oppressed people.\n\nIn the evening more than a dozen came to our lodgings and spent two\nhours recounting the trials of their slave-life, which were of\nthrilling interest. O, what a bitter draught was theirs, even to the\nvery dregs! One poor man named Henry, owned by John Reese, near Baton\nRouge, for the crime of visiting his wife and children oftener than\nonce a month against his master's command, was ordered to be nailed to\na tree by his ear, and whipped until it tore out. But even more awful\nscenes of persecution and outrage these people passed through, which we\ncan not record. We closed our interview, after listening to their sad\nrecitals, with prayer, in which all took part. A solemn season it was,\nto mingle our tears and voices with those who had passed through such\nscenes of suffering and were now praising the Lord for freedom.\n\nOn Tuesday, 29th, we visited the general hospital in the noble asylum\nfor the mute and blind. Of the latter there were thirty inmates. They\nplayed on the piano and sang very sweetly, and we were interested in\nseeing the mutes converse with each other in their sign language. One\nlittle fellow was asked by the matron to give us their name for Yankee.\nHe quickly passed his fingers through each other, and we all laughed to\nsee ourselves with such an unstable name. All seemed much pleased to\nreceive our visit.\n\nWe found here our sick and wounded soldiers with nothing but army\nsupplies, boiled fat pork and bread. Surgeon Pole told us they were out\nof other supplies. We sent immediately to New Orleans for dried fruit,\ncrackers, etc., and within four days they came rolling in by the\nbarrel. We left this marble-faced edifice to visit a few camps\nsurrounding the city of Baton Rouge. By request I attended a six\no'clock meeting in the chapel for soldiers at the general hospital,\naccompanied by Rev. Joel Burlingame and Rev. Mr. Merryfield.\n\nOn Wednesday, 30th, we spent some time in visiting and distributing\ntracts and Testaments, and conversing with soldiers. We also visited a\ncolored school of two hundred and twenty-four pupils. All were much\nengaged in study. We were invited to address them. Sister Backus and\nmyself complied, and it seemed gratifying to them and satisfactory to\nus. We returned to our pleasant boarding place, wrote a letter, and\nmade a number of calls. We found a woman who used to sympathise with\nEliza Wilson in her slave-trials previous to her escape to the North.\nThrough her we heard from Eliza's little girl, whom she left with her\nold master Bissel. A few days before she had come to her aunt, in\nPlaquemine, about nine miles, in the night, she heard that Yankee\nsoldiers were in possession of that town. She had been told that a\ncertain road led to Plaquemine, and took it in a moonlight night and\nfound her aunt. Although she was only about ten years of age, and could\nnot remember her mother, yet this woman said the child had heard I was\ngoing to take her to her mother, and that she was nearly insane over\nit. I had previously sent word to them by a soldier who was a\ndispatch-bearer, that the mother was very anxious to get her child if\nshe was within our lines; and when he returned to Plaquemine he found\nthe child and helped her to escape from Bissel with much less trouble\nthan her mother had had seven years before.\n\nAbout the close of the month we took a long walk to Fort Williams,\nwhere were three thousand sick and wounded soldiers. The scenes here\nwere indescribable. The mingled language of acute distress, in prayer,\ngroans, and occasional oaths from the profane, could be heard. One\nyoung man seemed too near death's door to survive. Said he: \"If I die\nit will be suddenly, upon the amputation of this arm. It is too late\nfor me now; but if I am spared I will seek an interest in Christ.\" But\nwe had heard the cry of despair before, and could not give him up. The\narm was taken off without causing instant death, as he was fearing. He\nthen became an eager listener, and said he could now pray for pardon,\nand believed that the merciful Redeemer would grant the earnest desire\nof his soul. We found a few men, whose lives were given up by the\nsurgeon, who were trusting, and possessed the comforting assurance of a\nglorious future. As we were about to leave, another soldier attracted\nour attention, who said he was not a Christian, but wished to be, and\nafter repeating a few promises and praying with him we left. In tears,\nhe requested us to see him again.\n\nWhile we were waiting for a boat for New Orleans we again visited the\nhospital, and found both of those who were anxious at our previous\nvisit rejoicing Christians.\n\nI went to the office to inquire for a steamer for New Orleans, and on\nleaving was accosted by a young man with the query whether I was\nlooking for a boat. As he saw that I noticed the feather in his drab\nhat, and star, with stripes on the sleeves of his gray coat, he\nremarked that he was an exchanged prisoner, and was on his way to his\nhome at Atlanta, Georgia. Said I:\n\n\"You appear like a young man of intelligence, and I hope by the time\nyou reach your home you will conclude to cast your net on the right\nside.\"\n\n\"We've been fishing on the right side these three years,\" he replied;\n\"and we'll fight three, ten, or twenty years longer, if we live so\nlong, but what we will have our rights--the right to hold our slave\nproperty without interference from Northern abolitionists. You need not\njudge of our strength because you have a little strip of this river,\nand our folks are rather discouraged here, and tired of war. If you\ncould see our troops in Virginia, you'd see as hopeful and jolly a set\nof fellows as you ever saw. Give up? No, never! I tell you, madam, we\nare determined to have our independence if we fight till we die.\"\n\n\"I am sorry,\" I answered, \"you can not be induced to adopt a course\nworthy of your zeal. Young man, the worst wish I have for you is that\nyou may be prepared to die, for the fiat of the Almighty is against\nyou. The sword and the boys in blue are going to bring you to terms.\nYou will never again buy and sell men, women, and children like horses,\ncattle, and sheep in the market. The judgments of the Lord are upon you\nfor these things.\"\n\n\"You needn't think God is on your side, for you've made our niggers our\nmasters. Look! within, four rods of us stand nigger pickets, with their\nbayonets, and we can't pass those bayonets without a pass--and our own\nniggers, too. I tell you, madam, if I could have my way, I'd have a\nrope around every nigger's neck, and hang 'em, or dam up this\nMississippi River with them;\" and his black eyes flashed with fury.\n\"Only eight or ten miles from this river slaves are working for their\nmasters as happily as ever.\"\n\n\"We know that they are remaining on many plantations; but we know of a\nnumber of plantations that are worked by their former slaves because\ntheir former masters are paying them wages. But if they are as happy\nand contented as you describe, why do we see them daily coming into\nthese camps, frequently for twenty to fifty miles, wading swamps and\ncreeks, with swollen and bleeding feet? Why all this painstaking to get\naway from their masters, if they are so attached to them?\"\n\n\"They are poisoned by the Yankees. You talk about the justness of your\ncause--any thing but justice to put arms in the hands of these niggers,\nto be our masters--to set our slaves over us with gun and bayonet. God\nAlmighty will never prosper you--never.\"\n\n\"I see I can say nothing that will avail with you. I perceive that it\nis beyond the power of man. Hoping that a Higher Power may reach you, I\nbid you farewell.\"\n\nWith these words, I turned away; but had not advanced five feet when he\ncalled out:\n\n\"Madam, I hope we'll get the same boat. I'd like to see you again; for\nI like to meet people who stand up for their own principles.\"\n\nWidely differing from this captain's spirit was another, who was the\nowner of a large plantation, with numerous slaves, yet a strong Union\nman, and his wife and daughters sympathized with him. Before the fall\nof Vicksburg he called all his slaves together, and told them this war\nwould result in the freedom of every slave in the United States, and he\nwanted now to make an arrangement with them to work for him as\nheretofore. He promised to pay all the grown hands eight dollars a\nmonth, and board them with their families as he had done before, and to\npay them at the close of each month. With tears of gratitude, they\naccepted his proposition. He told them that this arrangement must be\nkept secret, for their safety as well as his own; for they all knew\nthere had always been a prejudice against him because he allowed them\nprivileges that other planters adjoining them did not. They said to\nhim, \"Your niggers think they are white,\" because he never would have\nan overseer on his plantation, and would not have whipping and\npunishing among his grown people, and the families among his slaves\nmanaged their own children. He came into our lines as soon as he could,\nto save his life; and he told us he had not visited his home for a long\ntime, except at night, as his life had been threatened, and that his\nwife and daughters, for their own protection, kept loaded pistols at\ntheir bedside. He had also armed a number of his servants, as they were\nlikewise exposed to an attack. He was a noble-appearing man, and said,\nin conversation: \"Mrs. Haviland, I have always held the same views on\nthe subject of slavery that you do; but it was against the law to free\nthem and allow them to remain here, and we could not send them away\nwithout breaking up some of their families. But I rejoice that it has\ncome to an end; and I know of others who rejoice, but they do so\nsecretly.\" His wife came to see him while we were there, and seemed to\nbe a woman of sterling principle. She said they had to watch day and\nnight, fearing their buildings would be burned, and perhaps some of\nthem murdered.\n\nWe called on a widow and her two daughters who were in deep affliction\non account of the bitterness of feeling toward them in consequence of\ntheir Union principles. They were a Christian family, and owned some\nproperty in the country, besides their residence in town. A number of\nour officers boarded with her. I was in her family a day or two, and as\nI left I took out my purse to pay her. \"Don't open that,\" she cried; \"I\ncan't take a farthing. You don't know what we have to endure. I have\ntwo brothers in the rebel army, and when they came home, because I told\nthem they were fighting against God in fighting against the Union, they\nswore at me and threatened to take my life; they said I was a Southern\nYankee, and they were the worst of all. I expect they'll burn my house\nsome night or get some one else to do it; and I know there are enough\nthat would gladly do it. O, you can't tell how much good your prayer\ndid us this morning. I do feel a daily necessity of looking to God to\nkeep us. I want to make a request of you to remember us at God's\nthrone, for we know not what a day may bring forth. Do plead for us in\nprayer, my sister.\" I left her and her daughters bathed in tears. We\nthe took steamer _Niagara_ for New Orleans, April 2d. It being dark,\nthe captain concluded to wait till moonlight, when an order came to go\nup the river, near Port Hudson, for twenty soldiers and thirty thousand\ndollars in contraband goods with two men prisoners, who had been in\ncharge of these goods for the rebels. While they were loading the goods\nsister Backus and myself took a long walk to the residence of John\nBuhler, aged seventy-five years, who lost a few weeks before one\nhundred and thirty slaves. The old man and his wife took us into their\nflower-garden, where were one hundred and twenty-five varieties of\nroses and many kinds of shrubbery, and the greatest variety of cactus I\never saw; many of them were six and eight feet high. One large\npecan-tree was almost covered with a small yellow rose-climber in full\nbloom, presenting a beautiful appearance. They gathered nearly an\narmful of flowers for us, and took us into the room in which a bursting\nshell made sad havoc. They made many excuses for the weedy flower-beds\nin the yard and garden, as they now had no servants to keep them. Two\ndrunken women came aboard the boat and were put off by our captain, but\nthrough the influence of their friends came on again. We turned from\nthis scene, and took a stroll to another residence, where we found the\nformer slaves of the owner the sole occupants. They had a hearty laugh\nwhen I asked if the \"smoke-house key was frowed in de well?\" \"Yes, yes,\nmissus,\" they answered; \"we's got de managin'.\"\n\nWe returned to Baton Rouge (the place where we halted some time is\ncalled West Baton Rouge), arriving late in the afternoon. We walked up\nto our old boarding-place, and took supper with our dear friends.\n\nOn April 3d we arrived at New Orleans at nine A. M., in time to attend\na colored Sunday-school. At its close I gave them a little talk. From\nthence we were piloted to the Bethel Methodist Church (colored) and\nfound a quarterly meeting being held. Here we listened to a very\ninteresting and intelligent discourse by Rev. William Dove. I made a\nfew remarks on the comparison of present times with the former. At the\nclose of the service many came forward to shake hands and tell us of\nthe time when ministers and people were hauled out of this church of\ntheir own building and taken to jail. The free people were compelled to\npay twenty-five dollars' fine, and slaves were punished with\ntwenty-five lashes on the bare back, well laid on. This persecution the\nauthorities deemed necessary in order to keep these poor people from\nrising in insurrection. They locked up their churches two years and a\nhalf, until the Union soldiers unlocked them. Though the authorities\nforbade their meeting at all, they often stole away two and three miles\nand held little meetings in deep ravines and in clumps of bushes and\ntrees, to hide from their cruel pursuers; but they could not even there\nlong escape their vigilant enemies. \"_Insurrection_! INSURRECTION!\" was\nconstantly inflaming the guilty multitude. Imprisoning, putting into\nstocks, and all sorts of punishments seemed to be the order of the day.\n\nA few months after the closing of their church the spotted fever broke\nout, slaying its thousands. An old pious colored woman said to one who\nwas losing all his family, and called upon her to assist them: \"Now,\nwho is plotting insurrection? Who you gwine to take to jail now? Who\nyou gwine to whip an' hang now? You can't take God out to jail.\" They\nheard that their enemies had concluded to stop their praying, for it\nwas thought to be through the prayers of the colored people that all\nthis trouble was sent upon them; for the plague was almost entirely\nconfined to the white people. This class of accusers became even more\nbitter than before.\n\nNo one can look at this volume of history without calling to mind the\nhardness of heart of the ancient Egyptians.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII.\n\nMISSION WORK IN NEW ORLEANS.\n\n\nAt New Orleans, where we arrived April 6, 1864, our home was a very\npleasant one. Beneath the windows of our room was a grove of fig-trees.\nWe had the kindest of friends.\n\nWe visited ten colored schools in the city, filled with eager learners.\nOne was taught by Mrs. Brice, who had in charge sixty scholars. She had\nbeen teaching here three years, under much persecution, and stemmed the\ntorrent of opposition, sometimes in secret, before the war. Sister\nBrice and her husband had been struggling in this city nearly five\nyears, through this bitter hate to the North, contending for Unionism\neverywhere, through civil, religious, and political life. We called on\nthem, and spent two hours in eating oranges and listening to the\nfanaticisms and wild conceptions of this misguided people and\nterror-stricken multitude when the \"Yankee\" soldiers marched up the\nstreets from the gun-boats. Schools were dismissed; the children cried\nas they ran home, telling those they met that the Yankees had come to\nkill them and their mothers. But there were those who cried for joy at\nthe sight of the national flag. The starting tear manifested the deep\nfeeling of these friends as they attempted to relate the scene, but\nsaid it was impossible, as it was beyond description. It seemed like an\noasis in a desert to meet such kindred spirits. We left them, with\ntheir urgent request to make, another call before we left the city.\n\nWe were invited by the pastor to attend a love-feast meeting at\nhalf-past six o'clock, P. M., where we met a large congregation. The\nservices were opened as usual.\n\nSoon they were \"breaking bread\" with each other, shaking hands, and\nsinging. Many were weeping. Some broke to each other the bread,\nexclaiming, \"Praise God for this day of liberty to worship God!\" One\nold man said to one of the ministers, as he placed his hand on his\nshoulder: \"Bless God, my son, we don't have to keep watch at that\ndoor,\" pointing to it, \"to tell us the patrollers are coming to take us\nto jail and fine us twenty-five dollars for prayin' and talkin' of the\nlove of Jesus. O no, we's FREE! Yes, thank God for freedom!\" Clapping\nhis hands, his shouts of \"Glory, glory, hallelujah!\" were followed by\nothers, until \"Glory, hallelujah to the Lamb forever!\" was heard from\nmany voices. Men clasped the necks of their brethren, and shook hands\nwith the sisters, singing, weeping, shouting, jumping, and whirling.\nSaid one woman, as she clasped another, \"O sister, don't you 'member\nwhen da tuck us over in dat jail dat night, an' said da would whip us\nif we didn't stop prayin'?\" and then they both jumped and shouted,\nthrowing up their hands in wild excitement. A half-hour was spent in\nthese outbursts of long pent-up feelings; then they settled down into\ncomparative quiet, and the pastor exhorted them to be brief in their\nremarks. Perhaps an hour was spent in the relation of experiences, and\nthe meeting closed with singing:\n\n  \"The jubilee has come;\n   And we are free, we are free.\"\n\nThen there was again the shaking of hands, and another half-hour was\nspent in overflowing manifestations, as at the opening of their\nmeeting. This long-oppressed people realized their great change beyond\nour conceptions.\n\nAt the Christian Commission rooms, No. 69 Carondelet Street, Dr. F. B.\nSmith, agent, we met brother Merrifield, of Baton Rouge, and brother\nHorton, who took us to visit a school of sixty pupils, taught by two\ncolored men, Baptist ministers. They had opened it before the\ngovernment or missionaries opened a school in this city for colored\nchildren. We had visited and addressed a number of other schools among\nthese people of this city, one of which numbered over four hundred\nscholars, in a confiscated college; but this in interest surpassed them\nall. Here in an old slave-pen, where hundreds and thousands had been\ncried off to the highest bidder, where the cries of parting mother and\nchild had been heard and unheeded, where the pleadings of husbands and\nfathers were only answered by the lash, those many tears, sighs, and\ngroans were exchanged for intellectual culture and religious\ninstruction. Here were sundry Union flags waving and a large portrait\nof Abraham Lincoln hung on the wall behind the desk. The scene was\ninspiring.\n\nAfter returning, two colored women, genteelly dressed, and quite\nintelligent, called on us and gave us a thrilling history of the past.\nThey gave us some startling facts of the efforts made to return slaves,\nwho had come within our lines to their masters, by making friends of\nour officers and soldiers. Men had enlisted from this State (Louisiana)\nand Mississippi as Union soldiers from selfish motives. Their sole\nobject was to assist in getting their slaves back, by taking them out\nof houses when employed by colored people, and from the street when\nsent to market, and placing them in jail. After orders were passed to\ngive rations to the families of colored soldiers, one young girl, whose\nname was Rhoda, was doing well until she was overtaken with chills. Her\nbrother gave her a paper certifying he was a soldier, and requested\nrations for her, but she was arrested on the street, and lodged in\njail, where she remained three months, sick with chills and fever, and\nwithout change of clothing, although her female friends made many\nefforts to get food and clothing to her. At length a deliverer came,\nwho found three hundred miserable, vermin-eaten prisoners, and set them\n_free_. A more grateful company was never found. Find fault who will\nwith Benjamin F. Butler, this was just the work he did; and many lives\nwere saved, and much suffering relieved, under his administration.\n\nWe dined with, a widow who had paid $1,800 for herself, and lived in\ngood style by boarding her friends, who paid her extra board-bills to\nassist her. A Creole lady called to see us who could converse a little\nin English. The Creoles in New Orleans generally spoke French. This\nmadam was a woman of wealth and position, and well pleased with the\nfreedom of the slave.\n\nWe heard of a project devised by many masters to massacre all the\nblacks. One brought in three hogsheads marked sugar. A little slave\ngirl, hearing her master say at dinner-table, that he had one filled\nwith loaded pistols, another with dirks, and the third with\nbowie-knives, went and told her mother. She was directed to be careful\nand listen, while busy about the room, to all her master said, and\nreport to her. In this way she heard the plans that her master and his\nfriends designed to carry into execution, and informed her mother. The\nplan was to paint a large company of their men black, who should assume\nthe attitude of fight; then all were to cry out \"_Insurrection_!\nINSURRECTION!\" and fly to every negro man, woman, and child, and kill\nthem all off. The mother made an errand down-town with her little girl,\nand called on General Butler, to whom they told all. A party of\nofficers and soldiers were dispatched at once, who visited that house,\ndemanded the keys, and searched the premises. There they found the\nhogsheads, broke in the head of each, and found all as reported. The\nmaster was banished from the city, his family sent outside the lines,\nhis property confiscated and his slaves set free. No wonder they\ndisliked General Butler, when he defeated their base designs.\n\nThe convention which met in the City Hall to frame a free constitution\nfor Louisiana created considerable excitement. Many slave-owners were\nconfident they would have all their slaves back again, or get pay for\nthem.\n\nAs there were no sanitary agents at Brazier City, and we learned of\nmuch suffering there, we called at the Christian Commission Rooms to\nmake further inquiries, and found brother Diossy had just sent both an\nagent and a teacher to that point. \"But if you are hunting for\ndestitute places,\" he told us, \"I wish you would go to Ship Island, in\nthe Gulf of Mexico, as there are soldiers and many prisoners there, and\nthey have no chaplain or agent to look after their sanitary condition\"\nWhile I was inclined to go, sister Backus thought, in view of the very\nwarm weather, and because we were so nearly worn out with several\nmonths constant toiling, we had better turn our faces homeward. I knew\nthere was but little more than shadows left of us, yet I could not rid\nmyself of the impression that it would be right to go; but I told her I\nwould not draft her into service, or persuade her against her judgment.\n\nI met at these rooms brother Merrifield and brother Horton, and the\nchaplain of the Michigan 6th Infantry. By their request we attended a\nsoldiers' prayer-meeting. Near the close one soldier expressed his\ngratitude for the privilege of listening to the voice of mothers in\ncounsels that reminded many of them of their own mothers far away. He\ncould say no more for a moment, being overcome with emotion. \"You may\ncall me weak, and if this be weakness, then I am weak,\" he said.\nAnother requested prayer for his sick soldier brother, and for the\npreservation of the Northern ladies who were laboring for them.\n\nAfter this meeting I called at the office for transportation; but there\nwas no encouragement that I could get it for a number of days, \"perhaps\ntwo weeks,\" as General Banks had nearly all the boats up Red River, in\nhis fleet. But as I was passing the gulf office I called and found the\nsteamer _Clyde_ going out for Ship Island in four hours, and at once\nsecured transportation for us both. I returned to our boarding-house,\nand reported what I had done, and told sister Backus if she was willing\nto go the sea-breeze might do more to rest us than the labors would add\nto our weariness. She consented to accompany me, and we provided\nourselves with half a bushel of reading matter at Christian Commission\nRooms, and secured the aid of a couple of soldiers to carry our books\nto the street-car, from thence to a steam-car that landed us at the\n_Clyde_. As there was no berth for us we obtained a couple of blankets,\nbut there being room for only one to lie down, we managed, by taking\nturns, to get considerable sleep. On April 8th, at ten A. M., we landed\non Ship Island. It was of white sand, that resembled, at a distance, a\nhuge snow-bank. We found a little sprinkle of brown sand, upon which\ngrew a few scrubby trees and a species of cactus that spread out in\nclusters as large as a dinner-plate. The island is eight miles in\nlength, and from one-fourth to three-fourths of a mile wide. The\ncaptain told us he should not leave until four o'clock, P.M., and we\nmade use of our time accordingly. When we landed with our large\nmarket-basket heaping full of Testaments and other reading matter, the\ngunboat boys and prisoners gathered around us like hungry children.\nPrisoners in irons came holding the iron ball in one arm, while the\nother hand reached for a Testament, crying out, \"Please give me a\nTestament, I lost mine in battle;\" \"Please give me one, I lost mine in\na long march;\" \"Please give me something to read, I lost my Testament\nin a rain-storm.\" Many hands were reached over the shoulders of others,\nuntil thirty or forty hands at a time were extended. We soon exhausted\nour basket-supply. We had a few in our satchels, but we reserved them\nfor the hospital and military prison. As we had disposed of the most of\nour books in an hour, we spent an hour on the beach gathering sea\nshells until noon, then took our rations, and spent the remainder of\nour time in hospital-visiting, and in learning from the officers what\nwas needed to be sent on our return to New Orleans.\n\nWhile engaged in other matters, we found our boat had left us, and was\nsteaming away perhaps a mile from us. Sister Backus was greatly\ndisappointed at being left, and gave way to despondency; but I assured\nher it was all for the best, and that as the Lord had heretofore\nprovided for us, so he would provide for us now. We returned to the\ntent of Mrs. Green, a tidy mulatto woman, where we had left our\nsatchels. As she met us and learned of our being left, and heard sister\nBackus lament over \"not having where to lay our heads,\" she quickly\nreplied: \"Yes, you shall have a place for your heads. In that chest I\nhave plenty of bedding, and I'll dress up this bed for you two. My\nhusband can find a place with some of his comrades, and I'll make a bed\nfor myself on the floor till the boat comes back.\" \"There, sister\nBackus,\" I said, \"the Lord is providing for us already.\" Tears filled\nher eyes. She replied, \"I will not doubt any more.\"\n\nMrs. Green had a nice dinner prepared in the best style; table-linen of\nthe finest damask, chinaware and solid silver spoons, pitcher, forks,\nand plated table knives, etc. I inquired how this came about, as I had\nnot seen a table so richly set since coming into the army. Her reply\nwas, that both of their fathers were wealthy planters, who made them\nfree when they died. Her husband received by will twenty-five thousand\ndollars, and she also received from her father's estate a fine brick\nresidence. They had it nicely furnished, and their property was valued\nat fifty thousand dollars. Her husband was making in his business from\nseventy-five to one hundred dollars a month, but he was so confident\nthat this war would result in the freedom of their race that he, with\nothers, enlisted in a colored regiment for seven dollars a month, under\nthe rebel government, with a secret understanding among themselves that\nthey would all go in with the Union army as soon as opportunity\npresented. The opportunity was furnished on the taking of New Orleans\nby Union troops. The regiment was officered by men of their own color,\nbut the indignities they received at the hands of Union commanders\ncaused their officers to resign their positions. One of the many was on\none occasion of an order by one of their captains for shoes and\nblankets for his destitute men. It was not honored, and he went in\nperson to inform the commander how needy his men were. The reply was\nthat he need not expect negro regiments to be supplied the same as\nwhite soldiers. This was thrown in their teeth by Confederates: \"You\nsee what you get by going over to the Yankees. We never served you like\nthat,\" said a Confederate.\n\nWe found Mr. Green an intelligent and pleasant man. Just as our dinner\nwas ready, Captain James Noyce called to see us, and urged us to make\nour home with his family during our stay on the island. We told him of\nthe kind offer of Mrs. Green. \"I know,\" was his reply, \"that Mrs. Green\nhas the nicest things of any one on this island, but my wife and I want\nyou with us.\" He said he should call for us in two hours, which he did;\nand we felt that our lots were cast in a pleasant place. There were two\nlieutenants boarding with them, both of whom, with the captain,\nappeared like men of sterling principle.\n\nWhile enjoying a very pleasant social visit with our new friends,\nsister Backus espied the life of Orange Scott on their center table (a\ngoods-box with a newspaper spread). In surprise she exclaimed: \"Sister\nHaviland, here is the life of Orange Scott! Isn't this home-like? away\nhere in the Gulf of Mexico!\"\n\n\"Do you know any thing of Orange Scott?\" inquired our hostess.\n\n\"I guess we do. We know all about him,\" replied sister Backus.\n\n\"You are not Wesleyan Methodists, are you?\"\n\n\"Indeed we are, both of us.\"\n\nShe almost flew at us, placing her hands on our shoulders. \"I don't\nwonder you seemed so much like relatives. Orange Scott is my father,\nand Mr. Noyce and I are Wesleyans,\" and she laughed and cried at the\nsame time. The dear little homesick woman was overjoyed. She had been\non the island a long time with her husband, and in poor health, sick\nand tired of army life, and longing for her Northern home. Yet she\nwould not consent to leave her husband so long as he could stay in one\nplace a sufficient time for her to be with him. But he was fearful it\nwas impairing her health. On her account, as well as our own, we were\nthankful for the privilege of mingling with kindred spirits. The two\nlieutenants who boarded with them brought in their new mattresses to\nmake a double bed for the captain and his wife, as they gave up their\nown bed to us during our stay. This left the lieutenants to sleep on\nthe bare tent floor, with their blankets only. But we did not know of\nthis arrangement until the day we left.\n\nApril 9th was very windy. We could not go out for the drifting sand,\nwithout being thickly veiled. I walked to the beach, near the soldiers'\nburying-ground, and stood two hours watching the waves as they lashed\nthe bars of sand. Their briny spray bedewed the graves of soldiers, who\nhad fallen far away from their kindred and their loved ones, in their\nNorthern homes. I could not repress the tear of sympathy as these\nreflections came to me, and I listened to the solemn moan of the ocean.\nYet here is the God of peace and love.\n\n  \"He plants his footsteps in the sea,\n     And rides upon the storm.\"\n\nThis evening we listened to Lieutenant Kingsley's thrilling description\nof the cruel irons he filed off from a number of slaves, who were too\nintelligent to be held without severe measures. He said these men made\nsoldiers who hesitated not to brave the greatest dangers. His\nexperience reminded us of the words of another:\n\n  \"Beware the time when that chain shall break,\n     That galls the flesh and spirit;\n   When the yoke is thrown from the bended neck,\n     That is chafed too much to hear it\n   There's a God above, that looks with a frown,\n   To see how long you have trodden him down.\"\n\nIn distributing the remainder of our tracts and Testaments to prisoners\nwe met a number of very intelligent men, who appeared to be men of\nChristian principles. I always made it a point to say nothing to a\nprisoner of the particular crime that placed him in confinement, but\ndirected his thoughts to the Lord Jesus, the lover of sinners. As my\nsympathies became deeply enlisted in behalf of many of the prisoners in\nirons, I inquired of Captain Noyce, in whose charge they were, what\ncrimes these soldiers had committed, that they should be confined in\nirons. \"No crime,\" he answered.\n\n\"Then please tell me,\" I said, \"why they are here?\"\n\n\"For drunkenness, being late at roll-call, absence without leave, and\nselling government property, mostly exchanging rations for groceries,\nsuch as sugar and tea.\"\n\n\"Is this possible?\" I exclaimed. \"All these trivial offenses have been\nsettled in their own regiments wherever else I have been.\"\n\n\"So they have wherever I have been, until I came here. But you seem\nalmost to disbelieve my word. If you do, you can step into my office\nand examine the record for yourself. You will find these men sentenced\nfrom one year to thirty-eight for the offenses I have named.\"\n\n\"I have no reason to doubt your word, but I will thank you for the\nprivilege of examining that record. Who pronounced these sentences?\"\n\n\"Judge Attocha.\"\n\n\"Who is Judge Attocha?\"\n\n\"He was a rebel captain, but after New Orleans fell into our hands he\ntook the oath of allegiance, and General Banks promoted him by giving\nhim the position of judge advocate.\"\n\n\"That man is a rebel still,\" I said. \"He is doing for the rebel cause\nmore than when at the head of his company, in the rebel ranks. You say\na few over 3,000 have passed through your hands here and on the Dry\nTortugas. We read in the paper, the day we left New Orleans, an order\nfrom President Lincoln to draft men, and here are three whole regiments\nlaid upon the shelf. Are all these Union soldiers?\"\n\n\"They are all Union soldiers. We had a Confederate here for murder,\nsentenced for a year. He was here only three months, when he was\npardoned; and on your return to New Orleans you may see him walking the\nstreets as independent as yourself.\"\n\n\"This is a flagrant wrong in holding these 3,000 men. Why don't you\nreport Judge Attocha?\"\n\n\"He outranks me, and should I presume to do it I would be put into a\ndungeon myself, and probably die there without an investigation.\"\n\nSister Backus and I went into the office, and the captain brought us a\ngreat roll, as large around as a man's hat. I unrolled a few feet, and\nread the name, regiment, company, offense, and penalty of each man,\nthus: For drunkenness, fifteen years hard labor with ball and chain,\nand all wages forfeited, except three dollars a month; for selling\ngovernment property, eight years hard labor, with ball and chain, and\nall wages forfeited except three dollars a month. Some prisoners were\nsentenced to longer, others to shorter, terms; but upon all were\nimposed the same forfeitures, and all were put in irons. One man from\nnear Battle Creek, Michigan, was sentenced for life. His offense was\nsimply \"suspicious character.\" No other reason for his sentence was\ngiven. I handed this fearful record to sister Backus, and we both read\nwith heavy hearts. Every free State was represented. What can we do, we\nasked ourselves, for these poor men, some of whom are sick and dying\nwith scurvy? This was a query hard to answer. I retired to bed, but not\nto sleep, wrestling in prayer to Him who hears the sighs of the\nprisoner to lead me to a door that would open for the 3,000 men in\nirons. The captain was a kind-hearted man, and told me that he had in\nmany cases put the irons on so loosely that they could relieve\nthemselves when out of his sight, but he charged them to be careful not\nto allow him to see them off. On account of the injustice of their\nsentences, he had favored them wherever he could do so, and keep his\nown record clear.\n\nThe next day, April 10th, was Sunday. The morning was clear and\nbeautiful. Sister Backus said:\n\n\"You are sick, or very weary; for you groaned in your sleep so much\nlast night.\"\n\n\"I am not conscious of having groaned,\" I said; \"but I did not sleep a\nwink. I am distressed, and have spent the night in prayer for a guiding\nhand to open a door of relief for these prisoners, and I must see them\nbefore I leave this island. I am this morning bearing as heavy a heart\nas at any period of this deadly strife.\"\n\n\"Try and dismiss this subject if possible,\" she returned, \"as they have\nappointed a meeting for us in the regiment, and I presume there will be\nan opportunity for you to see the prisoners.\"\n\nAs best I could, I dismissed the all-absorbing theme; and according to\nprevious arrangement we met the regiment, with a few gun-boat soldiers\nand the officers. We enjoyed a favored season, and found a liberty of\nspirit our dear Redeemer only can give. After closing the services to\nthe peace of my own mind, and to the apparent satisfaction of the large\ncongregation, Captain James Noyce came to me and said:\n\n\"You are certainly too weary to visit the prisoners now.\"\n\n\"O no,\" was my reply, \"if you will allow me that privilege.\"\n\n\"They are in very large barracks, and it is a very unpleasant place for\na lady to visit; but if it is your wish, these gun-boat officers wanted\nme to ask you if you had any objections to their going.\"\n\n\"Not at all; all can go who wish.\"\n\nCaptain Noyce and wife took us to the barracks, where the prisoners\nwere arranged in rows, six men deep, on both sides and at the end,\nleaving an aisle three feet in width between. In every berth there was\na man in a horizontal position; and all were in irons, either in\nhandcuffs with chain, or in a clog for the ankle, to which was attached\nthe chain and ball. What a scene! The click of the irons at the least\nmove greeted our ears. We walked midway of the long aisle, and looked\nover the sad faces before us. Upon the necks of those who stood near\nvermin were to be seen. Filthy and ragged were many of these poor boys.\nSome had been there a year, without change of raiment. I could say\nnothing of the injustice of their punishment; but I exhorted them to\ncome forth from this furnace of affliction with higher, nobler, and\nholier aspirations than ever before, and to lift up their heads in hope\nof better days, although the heavens might then seem as brass and the\nearth as bars of iron. I spoke a few minutes, and as I closed my\nremarks I turned to sister Backus, standing by, and asked her to say a\nfew words of encouragement, but she declined. She said that all she\ncould do was to weep with those who wept. I knelt to pour out the\noverflowings of a full heart in prayer, and as I did so they all knelt\nwith me, amid the clank and clatter of irons that made it necessary to\nwait a moment to be heard.\n\nAs we were leaving, two prisoners advanced a few steps toward us and\nsaid, \"In behalf of our fellow-prisoners, we return to you our thanks\nfor the kind words which you have spoken to us, and pray God to restore\nyou safe to your Northern homes.\" We bade them adieu, with many tears.\nAfter leaving this place we visited other quarters equally large, with\nsimilar experiences.\n\nI had become very much interested in a number with whom I conversed,\nwho were very thankful for the Testaments we gave them. They gave\nevidence of possessing an earnest trust in God and of enjoying the\ncleansing power of the blood of his dear Son.\n\nAccompanied by the captain and his wife, on Monday we visited the\nlight-house, and ascended the flight of steps of sixty-four feet. The\nweather was clear and calm, and we had a fine view of the Gulf of\nMexico on one side and the grand expanse of the ocean on the other.\nAfter dinner with the same party, accompanied by Lieutenant Kingsley,\nwe took a ten-oar row-boat and went to see the burial-ground of four\nhundred deceased soldiers. The graves were all plainly marked with\nhead-boards. These soldiers were mostly from Maine and New York, with a\nfew from New Jersey, Wisconsin, and Michigan. This was another solemn\nplace for reflection. The soldiers' grave-yard on this island differs\nsomewhat from all others. Here their funeral dirge will never cease;\nthe requiem of the ocean's surge will ever sound as if saying, \"Sleep\non undisturbed until the last trump shall wake the nations of the dead!\"\n\nWe returned to our boat, and pursued our way to the extremity of the\nisland. Here the picket-guards were much pleased to see us. They had\nbeen on the island about two years, ever since it was taken from the\nConfederates. We gathered a basket of shells, and our men gathered a\nquantity of crabs for breakfast. We were presented with some beautiful\nshells by one of the pickets. We returned home, having had a ten miles'\nride. We passed the wreck of a ship burned many years ago, which gave\nthis island its name. We could clearly see its charred cabin twenty or\nthirty feet below the surface. So clear was the water it did not seem\nmore than eight or ten feet deep over the white sand, upon which\nbeautiful shell-fish were crawling, as if to beautify the grand scene\nso new to us.\n\nIn a long conversation with Lieutenant Kingsley concerning his\nreligious experience, he said he was not satisfied with his attainments\nin the divine life, and very earnestly requested to be remembered at a\nthrone of grace. The moon rose full and clear on the sparkling face of\nthe deep, reminding us of David's sublime thoughts when he exclaims in\nthe eighth Psalm: \"When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy\nfingers, the moon and the stars, which thou hast ordained; what is man,\nthat thou art mindful of him? and the son of man, that thou visitest\nhim? For thou hast made him a little lower than the angels, and hast\ncrowned him with glory and honor.\"\n\nAfter our return we enjoyed a season of prayer, in which Lieutenant\nKingsley was earnestly remembered, and he expressed himself greatly\nencouraged. Leaving all those burdened souls with the Lord Jesus, who\ncares for all that he has redeemed with his own precious blood, I\nretired to rest.\n\nThe next day one of the prisoners came to inform me that their keeper\nhad granted them the privilege of asking me if I would take a petition\nfrom them to General Weitzel, former commander of seventy of their\nnumber. They had heard he was then in New Orleans, and they thought if\nhe could do any thing for their release he would, as he was a very kind\nofficer. I cordially assented to his request, of course, and he thanked\nme with tears. In company with the captain and wife we visited the\ngigantic fort that had been two years in building, but was not yet\ncompleted. It was to cost two million dollars. The brick wall at the\nbase is six feet thick, and about two hundred and fifty men were\nemployed on it when we were there. It is constructed to mount forty\ncannons.\n\nAt supper I received a request from Lieutenant Foster, who was sick, to\nvisit him. I found him in low spirits. He wished me to write a request\nto his wife to come to him, which I did. I read to him some extracts\nfrom an excellent little work, \"The Soldier's Armor,\" and a chapter in\nthe best of all books, closing with prayer. Lieutenant Foster seemed a\ndevout Christian man, and expressed great satisfaction with this\ninterview. The captain smiled on my return, saving I had \"better remain\nwith them and be their chaplain.\"\n\nOn April 13th we made a few calls, and two of the soldiers' wives came\nfor us to dine with them. I made a copy of the record of the soldier\nprisoners, as a specimen of their alleged crimes, and the penalties\nimposed upon them. One of the prisoners brought me their petition,\nwhich reads as follows:\n\n\"SHIP ISLAND, April 12, 1864.\n\n\"MAJOR-GENERAL WEITZEL: _Sir_,--We whose names are affixed, prisoners\non Ship Island; respectfully beg our release, and that we be allowed to\nreturn to our respective regiments. We are here for various military\noffenses, and for nothing criminal. Nearly all of us have participated\nin the engagements under your lead in this department, both on the\nbattle-field and on the long, wearisome marches we have been called to\nundergo; and we have always followed cheerfully wherever you have led.\nWe naturally feel that you are the proper person to appeal to to give\nus one more chance to redeem ourselves. And we solemnly assure you that\nwe never will, by any unsoldier-like act, give you any occasion to\nregret any act of clemency that you may exercise toward us. Many of us\nhave families dependent on us for support, and are suffering for our\nforfeited wages. Many of us are already suffering from that dread\nscourge--the scurvy--which must increase to a fearful extent in this\ntropical climate as the season advances and sweep, us away. And now\nthat the campaign is open and advancing, and men are needed, we hope we\nmay be permitted to return to the field, and by future faithfulness in\nour country's cause be able to return to our homes with what all good\nmen so highly prize-_untarnished characters_. Should you exercise your\ninfluence in our favor in procuring our release, rest assured you will\never be remembered with gratitude.\"\n\nThis petition was signed by \"Moses Fuller,\" sentenced to three years'\nhard labor, with belt and chain, and forfeited wages, except three\ndollars a month, charged with selling government property, to wit:\nexchanging his surplus rations; but Judge Attocha would listen to no\nwitness in the case. Sixty-nine other names were appended to this\npetition.\n\nOur anxiously looked for steamer, the _Clyde_, came in view, but it was\ntoo windy for it to land until noon. It brought about thirty prisoners,\nwho had come in with a flag of truce, mostly white refugees. One family\nwas from Mobile. The woman said the suffering from the war was not much\nthere, and all she knew any thing about had enough to eat and wear.\n\"But I reckon poor people suffer,\" she said, evidently wishing us to\nunderstand she was not poor. She had two servants to wait on her and\nfive children. But her servants seemed to think they were free here,\nand said they should leave her unless she paid them wages. There were a\nnumber of slaves who came here for freedom. I called on Colonel\nGrosvenor, the commandant of the post, who appeared like a kind-hearted\nofficer, and he approved of the petition. The next day, April 14th, we\ntook the _Clyde_ for New Orleans, after being a week on the island. On\nour way to the boat a soldier came running to overtake us, with a\nmessage from another soldier that he had that morning found peace in\nbelieving. He would have come himself, only that he was on picket-guard\nand could not leave; but he wanted us to know that our mission was not\nin vain.\n\nAs Ship Island receded from view sister Backus, as well as myself, felt\nthankful that our Heavenly Father had ordered all things well in regard\nto our having been left \"'way off in the Gulf of Mexico.\"\n\nWe reached our pleasant New Orleans home, at Elder Rogers's April 16th,\nand were as kindly received as if we had been friends of many years'\nstanding. The next day, after a good night's rest, we made an effort to\nfind General Weitzel, but failed. At two P.M., we attended\nprayer-meeting and had a rich season of communing with our Heavenly\nFather. There were present two chaplains, one of whom had been at\nvarious points in Arkansas, and he gave a thrilling account of some\nengagements his regiment had had with the enemy. The other was just\nfrom the dreadful fight at Alexandria, up the river. It is reported and\nbelieved by thousands that the rebel general came to General Banks with\na flag of truce and informed him that, unless he withdrew his colored\ntroops, he should take no prisoners and give no quarter. Report said\nfurther that they were withdrawn and were not permitted to advance on\nthe enemy, as they desired, and the consequence was an awful slaughter\nof our Northern men. The colored troops complained of inactivity in the\nfield more than any thing else. We found along the whole length of the\nriver fortifications built, streets in cities cleaned, and the greater\npart of manual labor performed by colored soldiers.\n\nWe renewed our efforts to find General Weitzel, visiting all the\noffices of the army we could hear of. Some reported that he was up Red\nRiver assisting General Banks, but at length, with thoroughly blistered\nfeet, I found him. I introduced myself, as usual, by handing him my\npapers from Governor Blair and F. C. Beaman, member of Congress. After\nlooking them over, he asked:\n\n\"What can I do for you?\"\n\n\"I hope you can do something,\" I said, \"toward releasing three thousand\nof our soldiers now confined on Ship Island and the Dry Tortugas,\nseventy of whom have served under you; and here is a petition from\nthem.\"\n\nHe took it, and read the petition, and not more than a half-dozen names\nperhaps, before he became too much excited to read further. \"Mrs.\nHaviland,\" he said, \"these are as noble soldiers as I ever had serve\nunder me. I don't think Moses Fuller, or any of the others, is capable\nof doing a wrong act. They are the most conscientious men I ever knew.\nJudge Attocha has no right to give these sentences; he has no business\nin this department of the work.\"\n\n\"Can't you do something for their release?\" I asked.\n\n\"If I were in command I would tell you very quick; but General Banks is\nthe one you ought to see.\"\n\n\"I am aware of that; but he is beyond my reach up Red River. And they\ntold me they sent him a petition similar to this three months ago; but\nthey had heard nothing from it.\"\n\n\"I will do what I can toward getting up a committee to investigate and\nreport these facts.\"\n\n\"Do you think you can accomplish any thing in their favor?\"\n\n\"I fear it is doubtful, but will do what I can.\"\n\nThis was but little relief to me; but what could I do further? I called\nat the Christian Commission rooms, discouraged and weary, while sister\nBackus returned to our quarters. These rooms I found well filled with\nofficers, among whom were generals of high rank, indicated by the\neagles and stars on their shoulders.\n\n\"Here comes Mrs. Haviland, from Ship Island. And how did you find\nthings there?\" said brother Diossy.\n\n\"Sad enough,\" was my reply; and I handed him a copy of the petition\nthat I gave General Weitzel, with the extract of the record of fifteen\nprisoners, detailing the offense and penalty of each. The officers\ngathered around to see and hear.\n\n\"This is too bad,\" said one.\n\n\"Can't you do something for these soldiers?\" I inquired.\n\n\"I wish I could; but I can't leave my post.\"\n\nSaid another, \"It is a pity some one doesn't.\"\n\nI turned to him with, \"Can't you do something for their release?\"\n\n\"It is the same with me,\" he answered; \"I can not leave my post.\"\n\n\"Some one ought to see to their release. Can not you see to their\nrelease?\"\n\n\"I tell you, madam, it is hard to do much for each other.\"\n\n\"Gentlemen,\" I responded, \"I have learned one thing thoroughly since\nbeing with the army, and that is, it is almost impossible to get one\nofficer to touch another's red-tape. But position or no position, head\nor no head, these flagrant wrongs ought to be plowed up beam deep. Here\ncomes an order from President Lincoln for drafting men, and Judge\nAttocha has laid three thousand on the shelf, when all they ask is to\nbe permitted to return to their respective regiments. That man is\nserving the rebel cause more effectually than when at the head of his\ncompany in the rebel ranks, by decimating the Union army; and here you\nhave it in a tangible form. I am informed that Judge Attocha was a\nrebel captain. He is a rebel still, and in the exercise of this\nauthority is banishing your soldiers for trivial military offenses, in\nirons, with forfeited wages; for which their families are now\nsuffering.\"\n\nThe thought struck me, What will these officers think, to see a little\nold woman talking to them like this? for I addressed them as I would a\ngroup of ten-year-old boys. I had lost all reverence for\nshoulder-straps, and cast a glance over my audience, when I saw a\nnumber in tears. Surely there are hearts here that feel, I thought to\nmyself. I turned to brother Diossy, and said, \"You can leave your\nposition, and get another to occupy your place here?\"\n\n\"Yes, I could, if it would avail any thing; but it would be impossible\nfor me to accomplish what you have done on Ship Island.\"\n\n\"Why? The idea seems to me perfectly preposterous.\"\n\n\"I will tell you why. There is so much wire-pulling here in the army. I\nwould be suspected of trying to displace an officer for the position\nfor myself, or for a friend standing behind me. Consequently I could\nnot have examined the record as you did.\"\n\n\"That is true,\" rejoined a general. \"I presume there is not one of us\nthat could have had access to those records that you had, for the\nreason that Mr. Diossy has given. They know you have no such object in\nview, but see you as a sort of soldiers' mother; and records, or any\nsort of investigation, would be opened to you when it would be closed\nto us.\"\n\nI told them I had not viewed it from that stand-point.\n\nOne of the officers, a very large man, six feet and four inches tall, I\nshould judge, stepped up to me in officer-like style. \"What do you\npropose to do with facts you gathered on Ship Island?\"\n\nI looked up in his face, a little hesitating.\n\n\"I say, madam, what do you propose to do with these papers?\"\n\n\"I can hardly answer intelligently,\" I replied; \"but I will tell you\none thing I do propose to do, and that is, to take these facts from one\nofficer to another, over all the rounds of the ladder, until they reach\nthe highest official at Washington, but what justice shall be done to\nthose poor soldiers in irons.\"\n\nHe settled back, with softened tone. \"Well, it ought to be done.\"\n\nThe commanding appearance and tone, with the changed mellow voice, of\nthat officer is still vividly remembered.\n\nThere were two chaplains in this company who said they would unite with\nGeneral Weitzel on the committee he proposed, and they could learn\nwithin a week whether they could accomplish any thing in their behalf.\nIf favorable, Chaplain Conway said he would write me at Adrian, as we\nwere soon to return to our homes, and would write, as I requested, by\ntwo boats in succession, as guerrillas were at that time frequently\ninterrupting boats. If no letter was received within two weeks I was to\naccept it as granted that nothing could be done for them in that\ndepartment.\n\nAt 2 o'clock we attended prayer-meeting, where we met many soldiers and\ntwo chaplains. I was called upon to give a sketch of our Ship Island\nvisit, and at the close a frail and spoke encouraging words to them, in\npassing through this transition state. From them we went to the river\nbank to see five hundred prisoners of war, captured up Red River. Many\nof them were citizens of New Orleans.\n\nOn returning we went to a meeting of the colored people, where we found\nUncle Tom's spirit waiting confidently for the \"better day a-coming.\" A\nnumber of white soldiers present encouraged us with kind words. After\nrefreshments we attended another meeting, and listened to an\ninstructive sermon by a colored chaplain, of the Second \"Corps\nd'Afrique,\" as the colored regiments were called in that part of the\ncountry. He was the first colored man who received an appointment from\nthe government.\n\nAt 4 P.M. we visited the colored Sabbath-school of seven hundred at the\nMedical College. Chaplain Conway superintended. Colonel Hanks, General\nBanks's wife, and a number of other visitors were present. Dr. John P.\nNewman addressed the school, and gave a thrilling narrative of his\nvisit to the Holy Land, exhibiting the native scrip, sandals, girdle,\ngoat-skin bottle, a Palestine lantern, and sundry other curiosities.\nAfter a few encouraging remarks by Col. Hanks, the superintendent\nunexpectedly called upon me to address the school. After the session\nclosed I was introduced to Mrs. Banks, who wished me to write out the\nsketch of the facts I had gathered on Ship Island for her to send to\nher husband. This I did. She said that Judge Attocha promised General\nBanks that he would do all in his power for the Union cause, and now in\nthis way he was paying him for his promotion.\n\nAfter giving my statements to Mrs. Banks, and the petition to General\nWeitzel, I felt that I could leave for home on the first boat going\nNorth; yet we had but little hope of success in behalf of the 3,000\nprisoners in this department. We took passage on the hospital transport\n_Thomas_, bound for Cairo, with eighty wounded soldiers from the Red\nRiver expedition, all discharged or furloughed for home. Medical\nInspector Stipp kindly gave us a state-room. We were grateful to our\nHeavenly Father for the many kind friends we everywhere found, although\nsurrounded by bitter enemies. The boat did not design stopping until it\nreached Baton Rouge; but I wanted to stop at Plaquemine to get the\nlittle girl Matilda, previously mentioned, to take to her mother, who\nhad made her escape a few years before.\n\nAfter breakfast, dressing wounds was the order of the day. I kept off\nthe flies during the process, as it was very difficult otherwise to\nkeep them away, the stench being so great. Poor boys! there were all\nsorts of wounds among them,--saber-cuts and bullet-wounds in the head,\nneck, shoulders, arms, hands, body, legs, and feet, of all shapes and\nsizes. O what horrid mangling! Yet the same patience that so remarkably\ncharacterized the Union soldier everywhere was seen here. It was hard\nto restrain tears in their presence, but we gave vent to them when in\nour state-room.\n\nI was unexpectedly called for at Plaquemine, as I was informed that\nMedical Inspector Stipp had ordered the _Thomas_ to stop for me. They\nwere already landing before they found me. I caught up my bonnet and\nshawl and threw them on while hastening through the cabin. Sister\nBackus ran with me to the plank, where we snatched a parting kiss. I\njumped ashore, sister Backus, surgeons, and a few others waving good-by\nsignals with their handkerchiefs. The _Thomas_ pushed out into the\nchannel, and the next moment found me without my official papers,\npocket-book, or portfolio; all were gone on to Baton Rouge with my\nfriend Letitia Backus. In my haste they had been forgotten. As I was\ninquiring for the name of Eliza's sister of a colored picket, he\nrecognized me at once, being from Detroit. He said he had beard me\nspeak in the colored church in that city, and urged me to speak for\nthem the next evening in their confiscated Methodist Episcopal Church.\nI consented, and found the two sisters, with little Matilda, almost\nwild with delight.\n\nI soon had the pleasure of introducing my Detroit acquaintance, who\ncalled with a few other young men that knew me; and here, too, I was\nsurrounded by friends, but they expressed fears of my not securing\ntransportation to Baton Rouge, because their commander was cross and\nwas known to issue but few orders for transportation. But I went to his\noffice and told him what my business was in the army, and why I called\nthere; that, on leaving the floating hospital in haste, I forgot my\nofficial papers, and consequently had nothing by which he could judge\nwhether my statement was correct or not. I, however, had presumed to\ncall on him to see if I could secure transportation for myself and that\nlittle girl of twelve years.\n\n\"Well, I think your motherly face will take you to Baton Rouge,\" he\nanswered. \"There is a regular packet running to that city, and I will\nsend a note by you to the captain that will secure your passage,\nalthough it is not a government boat. The captain has received favors\nfrom me, and will gladly make this return.\"\n\nHe handed me a paper that requested a state-room and board for us, for\nwhich continued thankfulness filled my heart.\n\nThe friends of Eliza and of another escaped slave, Fleming, came in to\ninquire after them, and to tell long stories of the efforts put forth\nfor their capture. But Bissel, Slaughter, and \"Old Eaton,\" as they\ncalled him, only had the opportunity of gratifying themselves in\nthreats.\n\nThe colored minister in the regiment took much pains in circulating\nnotice of the meeting, and the church was well filled. We enjoyed the\npresence of the Lord Jesus in our midst. There were those there who had\nfelt the bitter pangs of family separations, with cruel treatment, who\nwept for joy in speaking of the precious boon of freedom. Some of them\nwere fearful that it would last no longer than the war; but I assured\nthem, as officers and soldiers had done, that it was a fixed fact.\n\nThe packet _Bank_ came in at five o'clock, P. M., April 21st, when we\ntook leave of kind friends who accompanied us to the boat. After a\npleasant trip, we were received with joy on our safe arrival at Baton\nRouge. The next day we visited the Forty-eighth Illinois Regiment, and\ndistributed a quantity of reading matter. We also attended the funeral\nof a deceased soldier, where the privilege was granted me of making\nsome remarks. I endeavored to enforce the solemn truth, \"It is\nappointed unto man once to die, and after this the judgment.\" I\nexhorted those present to prepare to live in friendship with God, as\nthat alone would enable them to gain the victory over death.\n\nOn April 23d we visited the jail, in company with brother Merrifield,\nand distributed Testaments and tracts, which were gladly received. Here\nwe met a rebel captain, who said he was a rebel of the strongest kind;\nhad been fighting to establish his government, and should do it again\nif he lived to get to his regiment. I told him I had no hope in his\ncase, unless he would accept the truth contained in the Testament,\nwhich I presented to him, and said that if he would read carefully and\nprayerfully, and drink in its spirit and practice its teachings, he\nwould find a religion pure and undefiled.\n\n\"Madam,\" he answered, \"if I thought reading that book carefully and\nprayerfully, and accepting pure and undefiled religion, would lead me\nto lay down arms in defense of the Confederate Government, I would\nnever read a word in it or take one thought of religion; no, not to\nsave my soul.\"\n\nThis he uttered with a change from a flushed to a blanched countenance.\nWe afterwards learned he was a captain of a guerrilla band, and had\nbeen sentenced to be shot, but the sentence had been commuted. A Union\nman who was a citizen here knew him, and said he ordered a Union man\nout of his buggy, and shot him dead; then he bayoneted him through and\nthrough, in the presence of his wife and child; then ordered them out,\ntook the horse and buggy, and left the distracted wife and child to\nwait by the mangled body, until a passer by hastened to the city and\nsent a hearse for the body. On the way to town for burial, the same\nband of guerrillas captured the team and hearse, and left again the\ndistressed mother and child to get the mutilated body of the husband\nand father taken to burial as best they could. \"Such horrible deeds,\"\nsaid a Union man of this city, \"will continue until government takes a\nmore decided policy.\"\n\nOn Sunday morning, April 24th, we attended the sunrise prayer-meeting\namong the colored people, and more earnest prayers I never heard for\nUnion soldiers: never heard more earnest pleading for the triumph of\nliberty. God was truly overshadowing his own. Before the rising of the\nsun, there was a large congregation. At nine o'clock we were invited to\nmake some opening remarks in brother Tucker's Sabbath-school of three\nhundred children. Then we were conducted to another Sabbath-school,\nwhere we were invited to make a few closing remarks. At 11 o'clock we\nattended a meeting led by Chaplain Berge. On returning to our\nboarding-place, we were called upon by brother Merrifield, who\naccompanied us into the fort to address the colored troops. Sister\nBackus referred to the importance of making themselves intelligent, so\nthat when their rights were established as citizens, they would be\nprepared to vote understandingly. This brought smiles from the\nofficers, and frowns from a few of the white soldiers. We also attended\na meeting conducted by the chaplain of the general hospital, who\npreached a very appropriate sermon for officers as well as soldiers. He\nwarned against the truckling, time-serving, and cotton-speculating\nmanifestations in this war, and also the influence of Southern women in\nsympathy with the rebellion.\n\nThis was the sixth religious service we attended during the day, in\nfour of which we had taken an active part. We retired to rest until the\n6:30 o'clock meeting at the Methodist Episcopal Church, now turned over\nto Chaplain Brakeman, who was called away the previous day. He had left\nan urgent request for me to address the soldiers on Sabbath evening;\nbut I told the chaplain who brought the word we could make no further\nengagements, as we were waiting hourly for a boat going up the river.\nBefore six, a steamer stopped, and we took passage for Natchez, as we\nhad business to see to concerning an orphan asylum. One of the\nchaplains said if we could realize the good it was doing the soldiers,\nwe would visit them oftener; that there were more conversions during\nthe week after we left than in many months previously. An exhortation\nfrom a mother reminded the soldiers of home and home influences.\n\nWe had a conversation with a colored captain, who had just resigned on\naccount of the constant indignities heaped upon the colored troops. He\nwas a man of wealth and intelligence, and gave us an account of a\nreview by General Sherman, after General Butler left. When General\nSherman came to him, he stopped to look at the bars on his shoulders,\nand gruffly asked, \"Are you a captain?\" \"Yes, sir,\" was the reply. \"O,\nyou are too black for a captain,\" said the general. At Fort Hudson,\nwhen our troops were retreating under a galling fire, a colored\ncaptain, with his men, at the risk of his life, ran to bring out\nGeneral Sherman, who was badly wounded, and would have died but for the\ndaring feat of the colored soldiers. The colored captain lost his life,\nbut General Sherman was rescued. Since then he has spoken highly of\ncolored soldiers, and of the brave captains that led them. My informant\nsaid that after General Banks assumed command they hoped for better\ntreatment, but their hopes were vain. As the men in December and\nJanuary were in want of shoes and clothing, he told General Banks that\nthey were not in a suitable condition to work on the fortifications\nwhere the detachment was ordered, but no attention was paid to him. He\ninquired why his men could not be supplied the same as the white\nsoldiers. The reply he received was, \"Don't you know you are niggers,\nand must not expect the same treatment?\" \"From that moment,\" he said,\n\"I resolved to resign; but after waiting a little, and seeing no better\nprospects, I did so, and shall not resume arms until we can be treated\nas men.\"\n\nIn New Orleans two regiments of free colored men were raised in\nforty-eight hours. They were officered by men of their color in grades\nas high as major by General Butler, who said they were as good officers\nas he held under him. We arrived in Natchez on the 26th, where we met\nrejoicing friends. We found a number of the missionaries sick, among\nthem sister Burlingame.\n\nThe day following we spent chiefly in writing, and distributing\nTestaments and tracts among soldiers. In the evening we attended a\nprotracted meeting, conducted by two sisters. They acquitted themselves\nnobly, and had three conversions. They exhorted earnestly and prayed\nfervently. They invited us to take part with them. One of the ministers\ntold me they had worked in this meeting until they were tired out, and\nthen gave it over to these mothers in the Church, whose labors the Lord\nwas blessing in the conversion of precious souls.\n\nWe made an effort to secure a house for an orphan asylum.\n\nRebel sympathizers were making trouble all along the line of our work.\nThey tried every plan that could be devised to drive the refugees back\nto their old plantations. An infamous \"health order\" was issued,\ncompelling every colored person, not employed by responsible parties in\nthe city or suburbs, to go into the \"corral,\" or colored camp. Many\nwere employed by colored citizens, who were doing all they could to\nfind work for them. But on the day this order took effect soldiers were\nsent to hunt them out of all such places, as no colored party was\ndeemed responsible; and all who were not actual members of these\ncolored families were driven out at the point of Union bayonets.\n\nThey gathered two hundred and fifty, mostly women and children, and\ndrove them through the streets of Natchez on a chilly, rainy day, and\nmarched them into the camp of four thousand in condemned tents. One of\nthe colored citizens told me that she was paying her woman wages, and\nallowing her to have her three children with her, but the soldiers\ndrove her out into the rain. Men and women tantalized them as they were\nmarching through the streets, saying: \"That's the way the Yankees treat\nyou, is it? You'd better come back to us; we never treated you like\nthat.\" Many of the women went into camp crying. Said an old colored\nman: \"Never min', thar's a better day a comin'. 'Twould be strange if\nUncle Sam hadn't a few naughty boys.\" He was one of the group that was\ndriven in.\n\nWe heard, April 30th, that there was a skirmish near our lines the\nevening before. A party of scouts had shot into the pickets, and they\nretreated; but we did not learn whether any were killed. News came to\nus of Calvin Fairbanks's release from the Kentucky penitentiary. We\ntrusted that the same Deliverer would open the prison-door for the\nthree thousand soldiers on the two islands in the Gulf.\n\nAt nine o'clock A. M., May 1st, we attended the organization of the\nfifth colored Sabbath-school in the city. At eleven A. M. we went to\nWall Street Church, and listened to an interesting discourse by\nChaplain Trask, of the Fourth Illinois Regiment. At two P. M., at the\nColored Methodist Episcopal Church, we heard brother Burlingame. After\na short exhortation by brother Fitzhugh, twelve came forward for\nprayer, and some were blessed with pardon. At six P. M. we attended a\nsoldiers' meeting at Wall Street Church, in which we took a part; also\na number of soldiers spoke and prayed. Between meetings I wrote a\nletter for a colored man to his wife, who is still a slave in\nWoodville, twenty miles distant.\n\nI was sick with a chill and fever May 2d, and the nearest to being\nhomesick since I left Michigan. The next day I was better. Here I met\nJoseph Warner, with whom I had been acquainted from his childhood. He\nwas a lessee at Waterproof. He had a large plantation, and two hundred\nhands employed. He was twice taken by guerrillas. He told them they\ncould hang or shoot him, but they might rest assured that forty of\ntheir men's lives would pay for his, and forty men stood ready to take\nhis place; and they let him go each time. A distressed mother came to\nus to inquire for her two daughters, that her mistress had sent to\nTexas to elude the effects of the Proclamation of Emancipation. She had\nbegged her mistress to allow them to remain in town, if she could not\nhave them with her. The mistress said, \"No you shall never have your\ngirls with you again, not even to give you a drink of water if you are\ndying.\" This was at the retaking of Baton Rouge, when the mistress\nconsidered herself again in full power; but she was soon to suffer\nherself. When that city was retaken by Union men, the only son of the\nmistress was burned to death in the house at which he was boarding.\nUpon this she fell into fits. Yet, Pharaoh-like, she persisted in\nkeeping the slave-girls in Texas.\n\nA number of missionaries called on us, and urged me to remain with them\na few weeks longer; but for two reasons I had to decline: First, those\nthree thousand soldier prisoners were daily on my mind; and, second, my\npoor health made it a duty to return home.\n\nSkirmishing four miles off took place May 5th, and we could see the\nblue smoke of battle. The shooting seemed near us. How little this\nterrible war was realized in our own free State homes!\n\nI met on the street a mulatto girl seventeen years old, weeping, and\ninquired the cause of her grief. She said her owner, Mrs. Morehead, had\nbeen beating her.\n\n\"Why do you remain with her?\" I asked.\n\n\"She keeps my baby locked up,\" was her reply; \"and she says if I leave\nI shall never have him.\"\n\nI told her that I could take her to the provost-marshal, who would give\nher an order for her child. At this she cheered up, and went with me,\nand received an order, in case she could not get it without. She said\nshe would go back and pack her few things in her old trunk, and then\nwatch her opportunity when the mistress was out to bring her baby to\nthe freedmen's store. After the child was secured I sent a soldier with\nher, who brought her trunk, without letting any one in the hotel know\nof her movements. Only a short time elapsed before we saw Mrs. Morehead\nin front of the hotel, looking up and down the street for her Delphine,\nwho kept herself hid in the freedmen's store with her little Charlie,\nabout two years old. Just before the war Mr. Morehead had brought her\naway from her mother in St. Louis, Missouri, and the height of her\nambition was to get back there. I secured transportation for herself\nand child to Cairo, and paid her fare to St. Louis. But she was in\nconstant fear of her former owners.\n\nHer history was a sad one. She was bought for their hotel fancy girl,\nand the father of her child was her own master. The child resembled his\nfather so much that he was frequently taken by strangers to be the\nchild of the mistress. The mother was two-thirds white; and the Roman,\nnose, straight hair, and white skin of the child would not give a\nstranger the least idea that he had even the sixteenth part of African\nblood in his veins.\n\nAs a boat was expected to arrive within an hour, we took leave of the\nmany kind friends, and repaired to the wharf-boat. Soon Mrs. Morehead\nfollowed, and called for Delphine; but the trembling girl caught her\nbabe and hid.\n\nBut as her mistress repeated the calls, she at length came to me with\nthe child, asking, \"What shall I do? I would rather throw myself and\nbaby into the river than go back to her.\" Said her mistress, \"I tell\nyou, Del., I've got an officer to come and take you to jail for\nstealing.\" I told Delphine she could rest assured that none of the\nofficers would trouble her, for they informed me they should not notice\nher mistress's complaints, let them be what they would, as they had had\nmore trouble with that rebel family than a little ever since they\noccupied the city. I told her to leave Charlie on the boat, and go out\non the levee and tell her mistress plainly that she was going to St.\nLouis to her mother, and not be so excited. She did so, and Mrs.\nMorehead kept her nearly an hour, trying to coax, hire, and frighten\nher, but without avail. Delphine all this while was trembling with\nfear. I believe if she had seen an officer coming with her mistress,\nshe would have thrown herself and child into the river. Mrs. Morehead\nat length came upon the wharf-boat. When Delphine saw her coming she\nsnatched up her child, and ran to the rear of the boat, and the\nmistress after her. Again she came to me with \"What shall I do?\" I\nreplied, \"Sit down here by me and hold your child, and she will not\ndare touch you.\" She trembled as if having an ague fit. Soon a her\nmistress stood before us in a rage, and turned to me:\n\n\"You came into my kitchen with an order, and took her, when she was\ndoing better than you ever dare do.\"\n\n\"I never went into your kitchen,\" I said. \"A soldier went with her for\nher trunk. I understood an officer called on you and called for her\nchild, at her request, before she came to me.\"\n\n\"It's a lie. Delphine lied about me.\"\n\nSaid sister Backus, \"I shouldn't think you would want such a person\nabout you, if that is true.\"\n\n\"Well, the child seems so near to me. I've always had the care of it.\"\n\nShe left us at length with a threat that she would bring the officers\nto take her to jail for stealing.\n\nThe _Kennet_ came in at 11 o'clock A. M., May 6th, bound for St. Louis,\nMissouri, and we went aboard. As we pushed out from shore, Delphine\nclapped her hands. \"Now I know Mistress Morehead can trouble me no\nmore; thank God, I've got my Charlie too! Nobody knows what I have gone\nthrough since I've been in this city.\" We arrived in Vicksburg May 7th,\nand took breakfast at the Soldiers' Home, where we met Ex-Governor\nHarvey, a soldiers' friend. Here was a lady who had charge of the body\nof her brother, killed up Red River, taking the remains back to Iowa.\n\nAfter spending a little time in this large city of soldiers, whose\ntents whitened the adjoining fields, we left. On the day this city fell\ninto Union hands, report said, there was an old man very confident of\nthe success of the Confederate government, and he said that God could\nnot let it fail; if he did, he would never believe there is a God.\nWhen, the gun-boats came in, and he was told the city was taken, he\nwould not believe it, until he rose up from his chair and saw marching\ncolumns of soldiers, with their bayonets glistening in the Fourth of\nJuly sun. He immediately sank back in his chair in a faint, and soon\ndied.\n\nMay 8th was a sort of a war Sabbath. The night before our boat ran\naground, and it took three hours to get her off. Many of the passengers\ndressed, and made ready to escape at the first possible chance, in case\nshe should become wrecked. We were told that at one time the water was\nthree feet deep in her hull. By making great effort the men succeeded\nin pumping it out. She run slowly, being a very large boat. We had a\nvariety of passengers on board, officers of various ranks, soldiers,\nmissionaries, preachers, and a few secessionists. Major-general Hunter\nremained with us two days.\n\nQuite an excitement arose over the arrest of a smuggler of goods\nthrough our lines. He was thought to be connected with the little\nsteamer _Baltic_. There was a major and a provost-marshal, from Baton\nRouge, who followed up the matter. When the prisoner was brought to the\nrear of the boat, with his hands tied, it created much feeling among a\ndozen colored people, until they heard the major ask him if he had\ntaken the oath of allegiance. He answered gruffly, \"No, and I never\nwill.\"\n\nThis led the major to ask other questions concerning the trade of the\n_Baltic_.\n\n\"I will tell you nothing about it, if I stand here till I die, and you\nmay go to--.\"\n\nThis brought the sympathy of the colored people, as well as of the rest\nof us, down below zero. Said one colored man, \"Let him stand there,\nthen, until he dies.\" But within an hour he consented to be sworn to\ntell the truth, and nothing but the truth, and the major examined him\nin the presence of many witnesses, Major-general Hunter one of them.\n\nOn Monday I introduced myself to General Hunter, as usual, by my\nletters.\n\n\"How long have you been in the army,\" he asked, \"and how far?\"\n\nIn reply to his queries I gave him a sketch of our work. I mentioned\nGeneral Tuttle's refusal to grant us transportation, the wrongs of the\ncolored soldiers, and the history of the three thousand prisoners on\nShip Island and Dry Tortugas, and stated the fact that some\nmissionaries and missionary teachers had advised me to say nothing of\nthese wrongs, however flagrant. I also called his attention to the\nprinted order placed in our hands, that we were not to report any\nmovements in the army, either verbally or by writing, and asked his\nadvice whether it was wiser to report or to keep silent.\n\n\"Mrs. Haviland,\" he replied, \"I am glad you have been in the army so\nlong, and I am glad you went so far, and I will explain that order.\n\n\"You have observed movements of troops from one place to another just\non the eve of battle. These are the matters you are not to report; but\nthe wrongs you have met you may proclaim on your arrival at home from\nthe house-tops.\"\n\nI thanked him for this advice, for it was to me a great relief. It\nseemed to trouble him. After pacing the cabin to and fro a few minutes,\nhe came to me and said:\n\n\"Mrs. Haviland, we have had a good deal of sifting done in the army,\nand more must be done yet. Did General Tuttle see those papers you gave\nme?\"\n\n\"He did,\" I answered.\n\n\"Copperheads have no business in the army in the exercise of such\nauthority as this. General Tuttle ran for governor on the Copperhead\nticket in Iowa last year. What right has a copperhead to be lifted up\nhere, where loyal men are needed? I have never seen the least cause to\nabandon my first conclusion, that the only way to crush this rebellion\nwas to emancipate and arm the slaves; and if I could have been\npermitted to carry out my plan of taking Kentucky into my field, as my\nrank and position entitled me to do, I should have proclaimed freedom\nto the slaves as fast as I reached them. The strength I could have\ngathered from the slave population would soon have been two hundred\nthousand men, and that number of stand of arms was all I asked. But the\nvacillating policy of the government would not permit it. I saw clearly\nthat this was the only policy that would prove successful, and I\nthought every body else must see it when I first proclaimed it in South\nCarolina. It seemed there were others who took a different view, and my\norder was superseded.\"\n\nSaid sister Backus, \"You have the satisfaction of knowing that your\npolicy had to be adopted before the nation could succeed.\"\n\n\"O, yes,\" replied he reluctantly; \"but it is with regret that I think\nof the drafting of thousands, which might have been avoided just as\nwell as not. There was no necessity for the draft.\"\n\nSister Backus remarked, \"As a nation, we must suffer defeats until it\nreaches the right position, not only in arming colored men, but in\npaying them just wages; for they make as good soldiers as white men.\"\n\nA bystander said, \"I don't know that they make as good soldiers as\nwhite men, from the fact that they are not so intelligent. Here is\nGeneral Hunter, and I presume he will say the same thing\"--turning to\nhim for an answer.\n\nIn a decided tone the general said, \"I shall say no such thing. They\nmake the best of soldiers; for, first, they are kind and docile; and,\nsecond, they are apt to learn. They learn military tactics very\nreadily, and ought to have the same wages as any other soldier. All\nalong this river I find one continued series of wrongs inflicted upon\nthe negro.\"\n\nWe told him of the infamous order by Dr. Kelley, sanctioned by General\nTuttle, and published under the specious guise of \"Health Order,\" to\ndrive the slaves back to their masters. He shook his head in disgust.\n\n\"Why does the head of this serpent rise up at almost every point? When\nit appeared in the department under my command I crushed it at once.\"\n\nAt the mouth of Red River three women came aboard, by permission of the\ngunboat officers stationed there. Their object was to hire men, whom\nthey wanted to gather cane for working up into weaving reeds. One of\nthem reported to Dr. Long that she had been watching a couple of ladies\non our boat, and she believed them spies, for they seemed to have a\ngreat deal of writing to do. Dr. Long happened to know enough about the\nladies reported as spies to allow sister Backus and myself to pass\nunmolested. But these ladies were themselves suspected of being spies.\n\nWe reached the city of Memphis May 10th. Sister Backus had been quite\nsick for three days, but was now a little better. We called at the\nChristian Commission Rooms, and got a market-basket full of reading\nmatter for distribution.\n\nThe next day was quite cold and freezing. We stopped at Columbus a\nshort time. Here we secured a paper giving an account of the terrible\nslaughter at Fredericksburg. Rumor had it that fifteen thousand were\nkilled and wounded; that Lee was driven back thirty miles; Grant and\nButler were said to be pushing on to Richmond, and were now within a\nshort day's march of the rebel capital. General Hunter was quite\nsanguine in hope that Richmond would soon fall.\n\nOn May 13th we arrived at Cairo, and took leave of the friends whom our\nfew days' acquaintance had made dear. We reached home on the 18th, amid\nthe rejoicing of dear children and friends. It is no wonder the\nsoldiers we met were delighted to see a Northern face, for it reminded\nthem of their home associations. Intercession unceasing went up for the\nthree thousand soldier prisoners banished to the Gulf Islands. The mail\nhad brought nothing from New Orleans. By this I was to understand that\nnothing could be done for them there. Congress was still in session,\nand I immediately wrote a full account of their wrongs to congressman\nBeaman, and urged the presentation of the case to the war department.\n\nWithout giving myself time to rest, I hastened to Detroit, to report\nour work and give an account of the unjust sentences of those prisoners\nat Ship Island and the Tortugas. While making my statements in Captain\nE. B. Ward's office, he took them down to forward them to B. F. Wade,\nchairman of the Committee on the Conduct of the War; but he said, \"You\nmust go to Washington and report these facts to the committee in\nperson.\" I told him I had written the full details to my friend, F. C.\nBeaman, member of Congress, and I thought he would do all that could be\ndone. He answered, \"I shall send these items to B. F. Wade, and our\nletters will make good entering wedges; but the living tongue will do\nmore than the pen.\" I told him I was ready to go or do any thing I\ncould for their release, but still hoped to hear from New Orleans. I\nwould wait a week longer and rest. Then, if I had means, I would go. He\nsaid he would see to that, and I returned to my home.\n\nWithin a week I received a note from him, stating that he had just\nreceived a letter from B. F. Wade, requesting me to come at once and\nbring my extracts from the record I had examined on Ship Island. I was\nsoon on my way to Detroit, and at nine o'clock, A. M., on the following\nday, I was in Captain Ward's office, ready to take the boat for\nCleveland on my way to Washington. I waited but a few minutes when the\ncaptain came in with a letter, which he threw in my lap, saying, \"There\nis a letter for you to read.\" The first sentence was, \"The exhibition\nof these letters before Secretary Stanton has proved sufficient. Judge\nAttocha was dismissed immediately, and a committee is to be appointed\nto investigate and release those prisoners at once. There is therefore\nno necessity for Mrs. Haviland's presence on that score. General Tuttle\nis already relieved.\" On reading these glad words, I remarked that I\nnever had been a shouting Methodist, but I felt more like shouting over\nthese glad tidings than I ever had done in all my life. If I had not\nbeen spoiled for singing by being raised a Quaker, I would have sung\nthe doxology.\n\nI wrote an article for the Detroit _Tribune_ containing these facts,\nand stating the prospects of the immediate release of the three\nthousand prisoners on Ship Island and Dry Tortugas. I sent the paper to\nCaptain J. Noyce, and very soon received a reply that my letter, with\nthe _Tribune_, was the first intimation they had received of any thing\nbeing done in their behalf. He said, \"I sent the letter and paper to\nthe prisoners, and they eagerly read them in all their companies, until\nI doubt whether a whole sentence can be found together.\" A few weeks\nlater I received another letter from Captain Noyce, in which he stated\nthat the committee was investigating, and that but one person in\nseventy-five was found unworthy of being released at once; but that\nvery soon all would be restored to their regiments.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII.\n\nFREEDMEN'S AID COMMISSION.\n\n\nOur Freedmen's Aid Commission was enlarged in June, 1864. Dr. George\nDuffield was made president; Drs. Hogarth and Chase, vice-presidents;\nDavid Preston, treasurer; and B. C. Durfee, secretary. The board of\ndirectors appointed me its agent, and allowed me a salary of forty\ndollars a month. This is the first remuneration I received for my\nlabors; but seeing unfaithful officers dismissed, prisoners released,\nand the suffering and dying relieved, was a satisfaction far exceeding\ndollars and cents.\n\nI received invitations to address congregations in large towns, where\nmuch was done in gathering supplies. At a Union thanksgiving meeting in\nJackson, $97 was collected, and at a similar meeting at Grass Lake, the\nsame day, $70; at Luce's Hall, Grand Rapids, $55; at Methodist\nEpiscopal Church, Pontiac, $44; and at Leoni Wesleyan Methodist\nConference, $68.65. Many other liberal donations were also received.\nAuxiliaries were organized, and I prepared to return to the field of\ndesolation, whither duty seemed to be loudly calling me. I concluded to\nsuspend Raisin Institute until the close of the war. I received\npropositions from a number of graduates of the Michigan University to\ntake it in charge; but the care of preparing for another academic year\nwas more than I could properly undertake, and do justice to the\nlimitless field of mission work that was open before us.\n\nIn September I had a car-load of supplies ready, and $400 in money. Of\nthis amount, $298 was placed in my hands by friends at Adrian, with the\nrequest of the donors that it should be retained in my own hands for\ndisbursement on reaching the scene of suffering. At Chicago appeals\nwere made to the Soldiers' Aid Society and Christian Commission for aid\nin the freedmen's department, and also to myself personally, on account\nof the great distress in Kansas after General Price's raid through\nMissouri, followed by Colonels Lane and Jennison, who drove thousands\nof poor whites and freedmen into that young State. I decided to hasten\nthither, with Mrs. Lee, of Hillsdale, as an assistant.\n\nAt Leavenworth we met J. R. Brown, half-brother of Captain John Brown,\nof Ossawatomie, who had charge of both white refugees and freedmen and\na sort of soldiers' home, under General Curtis. He kindly offered me\nheadquarters in his establishment, consisting of two large two-story\nframe buildings, with one hundred occupants each. I called on General\nCurtis, who telegraphed for my goods to be forwarded in preference to\nother army supplies, and gave me passes through the State to Fort\nScott. My object was to investigate all intermediate towns where\nrefugees and freedmen were congregated. He also gave me liberty to use\nan order he had given J. R. Brown, to call upon quarter-masters for\nhalf, whole, or quarter rations, wherever suffering for food existed.\nThese investigations enabled me to judge of the amount of aid needed at\neach point.\n\nAs my supplies had not reached me, J. R. Brown filled two large trunks\nwith sanitary supplies for the greatest sufferers. Thus supplied, I\ntook the stage for Fort Scott. My first halt was at Quindaro, a small\ntown built on rocky bluffs and in deep ravines. A few years previously\nit was designed by a few speculators to be an important landing on the\nMississippi; and they built a few stone houses, a long wood\nstore-house, and a number of small log-houses, which had been left\nuntenanted, but were now filled with white refugees and freedmen, A\nlarge majority were women and children. The able-bodied men among the\nfreedmen were in the Union army, but many of the men whose refugee\nfamilies were here were in the Confederate army. General Price had made\nterrible havoc of all who were suspected of being favorable to the\nUnion. Then followed Colonels Lane and Jennison, who made as great\nhavoc of the remainder. Those who fled for their lives were crowded\ninto every niche of available room.\n\nIn one open log-house I found twenty-three wretched inmates. Four of\nthem were women, two of whom were sick from exposure in husking corn\nduring cold, snowy weather. Eight of the children had the measles, and\nthree of them died; two others seemed near death's door. Two women were\nhauling a small tree-top to their door to chop for night-wood. The feet\nof these poor women were exposed to the mud and snow, which was\nmelting. O, what squalid wretchedness was here! Not a bed, chair,\ntable, or whole dish in this gloomy abode! I inquired how they slept. I\nwas shown a rag-carpet on the fence, which they obtained for washing\nfor one of the neighbors. This was spread before a large fire-place,\nand all lay down upon that but two, who kept up the fire, and watched\nto keep those asleep from burning. They said the man who owned the\nadjoining wood-land kindly allowed them all the wood they needed that\nwas on the ground. They borrowed an ax to chop it. I found the four\nwomen had husked corn on shares until two were sick with pneumonia; and\nthe corn, boiled without salt, was all they had to eat during the five\nweeks they had been there. Now they were nearly out, and what to do\nthey knew not, as they were forbidden to go into the field to husk\nmore. I made out an order for rations, and measured their bare feet for\nshoes and stockings. I took one of the women to the post-office, where\nI had left my trunks, and gave her four army-blankets, six knit woolen\nsocks, six pairs of drawers, four pairs of stockings, and two pairs of\nshoes, which were all I had to fit them. As I piled the above articles\nupon the shoulders and arms of the poor woman she wept for joy.\n\nThe postmaster said, \"Is this your business here?\"\n\nOn receiving an affirmative reply, he said, with tearful eye:\n\n\"To-morrow morning the ground will be frozen, and I will go with you\nwhere the most of these poor people are.\"\n\nI procured lodging with a widow Johnson and her son, who was with\nCaptain John Brown's party all through the border-ruffian troubles. My\nkind friend regretted my having made the mile and a half walk to the\nlog-house in the field and back to the post-office before supper, as I\nhad not taken refreshments since leaving Leavenworth, very early. But\nwhen I told her of the distress I found, she rejoiced with me at the\npartial relief I had given them.\n\nAfter a good rest and an early breakfast, I went with the kind\npostmaster to visit the most wretched tenements of both white and\ncolored, and found eighty-one to report for rations to the commander in\nWyandotte. The postmaster and Mr. Johnson agreed to go with their team\nevery week and distribute to the destitute; and if others were found\nequally needy they would report them to me on my return. After\ndescending steep cliffs and climbing rugged rocks until past noon, we\nreturned for dinner; but before it was finished the stage came along,\nand I took it for Wyandotte, where we arrived late in the evening. The\nweather for October was cold, and freezing quite hard.\n\nWhen I informed Mrs. Halford, the landlady of the Garno House, of my\nerrand, she was much pleased, and said that her duties forbade her to\nassist me, but she would do her part in giving me a welcome home while\nin their town. She introduced me to a family of benevolent ladies, who\npromised to aid me in my investigations, but did not think I would find\nthe suffering in their city that I found in Quindaro. One of my new\nfriends went with me to a neighborhood where there were new arrivals,\nand found many in a perishing condition with cold and hunger. From\nthence we went to old stables and sheds crowded with destitute human\nbeings, both white and colored. The dear friend who volunteered to\nguide to these children of want wept herself sick as we listened to the\nstories of their flight from homes in Missouri and Arkansas. Here was a\nwoman, named Melinda Dale, with six small children and a sick husband,\nwho had to flee for their lives. A few pieces of old tent-cloth, picked\nup about an old camp, made their bed. Children were crying for bread,\nthe mother was sick with grief, and the father had a high fever. A\nblanket was given them, with a few loaves of bread; and after the\nreading of Scripture and prayer we left for the relief of others.\n\nOur next call was upon the wife and five small children of Lieutenant\nMiller, who was supposed to be in a rebel prison. The wife was in great\ndistress, not knowing whether her husband was living or perishing by\nstarvation. He was taken prisoner one year before and she and her\nchildren were in a starving condition. They occupied an old Sibley\ntent. These were also, with many others, reported for rations, and\nimmediate relief was given. A few weeks previously rations were\nwithheld, which caused great suffering with many. I gave rations to\nBarbara Stewart, with two sick children, whose husband was murdered by\nguerillas because he was known to be a Union man. I next called on\nGreen F. Bethel, who left his Arkansas home with a large family,\nconsisting of his wife, nine children, and aged mother. All except\nhimself were taken down with the measles, soon after passing through\nFort Scott. His mother soon died, and was buried by the way-side. A day\nlater his wife and infant child died, and were also buried by the way.\nNot long after the last three children died, and were also buried by\nthe road-side. He said, \"O, what sorrow was mine! One-half of my family\nare gone! The light of my household seemed vanishing! Were it not for\nthe help of my Lord I should have fainted under this sweeping\naffliction. My wife and mother were Christians many years. We were\nmembers of the Cumberland Presbyterian Church.\" We found the poor man\nin a hard chill. It came on every third day, and was followed with high\nfever. The two intervening days he was able to use his team in little\njobs of hauling, and thus he kept his children and team alive. I\ninquired why he did not make his condition known to the citizens of\nthat town. He said no one knew any thing about him, and there were so\nmany making pretensions to loyalty who were not loyal, that none would\nknow but he was of that class. \"My wife's brother,\" he said, \"came with\nhis family when we did, and he also lost his wife on the way, following\nthe Union soldiers. Our lives were threatened, and the rope was placed\naround my neck once, but by the entreaties of my wife and children the\nrebels concluded to let me go a day or two longer; then if I would not\njoin with them in supporting the Confederate government, I was to be\nhung or shot. The same threat was made to my brother-in-law, and we hid\nin the woods three weeks, before we left in the night for the lines of\nthe Union soldiers. We started with two wagons, and had nine horses and\nthree cows. But they gave out one after another, and we had to leave\nthem all on the way, except the youngest and best team, which I have\nyet. I have a good farm, and so has my brother-in-law; but if we are\never permitted to return to our homes, it is doubtful whether we shall\nfind a building left.\"\n\nHe wept freely, as well as his children. The oldest daughter, Amy, of\nseventeen, leaned her head upon my shoulder, and wept aloud. She said,\n\"We could all bear this furnace of affliction much better if our dear\nmother had been spared us.\"\n\nWith prayer we left this house of mourning, with a request for the\nafflicted brother to call at head-quarters for the rations I should\nreport for the six in his family. Said he, on taking the parting hand,\n\"One favor I ask of you, my dear sister; and that is, your continued\nprayers that the Lord may open a way for us where there now seems to be\nno way.\"\n\nMy friend who served as guide said, \"My head aches with weeping, in\nwitnessing these heart-rending scenes. I must decline going with you\nfarther this afternoon. I shall be obliged to take my bed. I do not see\nhow you live, as you meet similar scenes so frequently.\"\n\nThese visits made us quite late for dinner, but my kind hostess kept it\nwaiting for me. With interest, she sat by my side to listen to a report\nof my morning calls. She was surprised to learn of so much suffering\nnear them. After dinner I resumed my work. On my way I met a woman\nshivering in an ague chill, thinly clad, and weeping. I inquired for\nthe cause of her grief. She said she had been hunting for washing or\nsomething to do, to purchase bread for her three little children, for\nthey had had nothing to eat for a whole day. I told her I would call on\nher before night. I found a number in as great distress as in my\nmorning calls. One man, who lost his wife, leaving him with six small\nchildren, had found work six miles away; but he returned at night to\ncare for his little ones. The oldest child, ten years of age, was left\nduring the day in charge of the five younger ones. For the sake of\nfurnishing bread for his children, he walked the twelve miles back and\nforth daily. I found the woman whom I had met on the street in a high\nfever, with an infant of eight months in her arms, and two of her\nchildren crying for bread. I took them a few loaves, and gave her an\norder for rations. The husband had been pressed into service when they\nhad been but two weeks from home, and was not allowed to see his wife\nand children to say good bye. She had heard nothing from him since. In\nthe corner lay a crippled discharged colored soldier, who was also\nsuffering for food. I stepped into a grocery and purchased sugar and\ncrackers for the sick and for the children.\n\nMy next call was on another woman with six children.\n\nHer husband had been in the army a long time, and she had not heard\nfrom him. She feared he was suffering in a rebel prison. Near this\ncabin was Agnes Everett, with five children between the ages of fifteen\nmonths and twelve years. Her two youngest children were in a starving\ncondition--the baby, she said, had been too sick to allow her to do\nmuch in procuring food. Her boy of twelve years was her only dependence\nin getting little jobs of wood-sawing or doing chores for cold\nvictuals, or a pint of meal which she made into porridge. The little\nemaciated baby was fed with the porridge. Its face was wrinkled like an\nold person's of ninety years. Its eyes were sunken and glassy; its\nhands looked more like birds' claws than like human hands. \"Don't,\nClarkie; poor little Fannie is so sick she must have this,\" said the\nmother to the little fellow who watched the mother when her attention\nwas occupied for a chance to snatch a floating lump. As I looked upon\nthese famishing children I could not refrain from weeping. Her husband\nand grown son were in the army. She had been looking for money from\nthem for a number of months, but had heard nothing from them. I gave\nthem two loaves of bread for their supper, and directed them to meet me\nat the post-office the next day at ten o'clock A. M., and I would give\nher an order for six half rations until she received help from her\nhusband. This closed my day's work. On my return to the Garno House,\nMrs. Halford informed me that the lady who went with me in the morning\nwas sick, for she had hardly ceased weeping over those pitiful families\nwe visited in the morning.\n\nAt the time appointed I met a number at the post-office, among whom was\nAgnes Everett, to receive orders for half, quarter, or whole rations,\nand gave out a few articles of clothing. As I gave Agnes the order for\nrations, I charged her strictly to give the two younger children no\nstrong food for a few days, but only a little at a time and often,\nespecially the youngest, as it would live but a few hours if she\nallowed it to eat all it craved. A number of gentlemen listened to my\ncharge, and as the little group left the office one of them inquired\nwhere I was from. With my reply I gave them my papers from the governor\nand members of Congress of Michigan. After reading they introduced\nthemselves,--Dr. Wood, Dr. Speck, Lawyer James, and others. Dr. Speck\ninformed me of a family whose youngest child actually starved to death\nthree days before. He was called when it was dying, but too late to\nsave it. He said, \"There were two other families who would have died\nsoon if the citizens had not rendered the aid needed; and there would\nhave been another death by starvation before we should have known it,\nhere in our midst, but it took you to come from Michigan to find it\nout.\" Lawyer James said there was a family on the hill opposite the\nferry he would like to see visited, but there were so many crowding in\nhere of late that it seemed as if they had done all they possibly\ncould. They were rejoiced to learn of the liberty granted, by General\nCurtis to issue orders for rations. Said Dr. Wood, \"The freedmen are\nseeking for work, no matter what kind, but the white refugees are the\nmost do-nothing set I ever saw.\" While I acknowledged his position true\nin most cases, yet there were noble exceptions and I mentioned the\nBethel family and stated their condition. One gentleman said he would\nlook after that family. In confirmation of his remarks I told of a\nfamily of poor whites in Quindaro who were asked to assist a neighbor\nin sickness. As there were the mother and two grown daughters, it was\nsupposed one of them could be secured a few days with the promise of\nprovisions or money; but the mother contemptuously tossed her head to\none side and drawled out the reply, \"I reckon we hain't come down so\nlow yet as to work\" I told them they must come up high enough to work\nbefore I could do any thing for them, and left them to sit in their own\nfilth and rags.\n\nMy order from General Curtis was to report none for rations who could\nobtain work for wages. I passed on to other scenes of sorrow too\nnumerous to narrate here.\n\nOne hundred and four rations I ordered in Wyandotte. This timely relief\ngiven, I crossed the river, and in Kansas City, Missouri, met brother\nCopeland and wife, who were efficient agents and teachers in that\nfield. I secured a pass to Lawrence, where, late in the evening, I was\ndirected to a family that had suffered much in the Union cause. This\nwas the important stamping ground of Captain John Brown. This city had\npassed through two terrible raids during the war. It is here that\nQuantrell rushed upon the unsuspecting citizens with a host of\nConfederate soldiers about daylight, and murdered men at their own\ndoors, and when they could not call them out they rushed into their\nhouses and made terrible havoc of human life. There was a woman here\nwho was a spy. She had been in the city a few weeks taking horse-back\nrides two hours each morning, ostensibly for her health, but probably\nto report the most favorable time for attack. She was never seen after\nthe raid. I attended the Methodist Episcopal Church, where seventy\nwounded, dying, and dead soldiers and citizens were brought in after\nthat raid. The stains of blood were still left on the floor and some of\nthe seats.\n\nThe house where I was kindly invited to make my home was entered, and\nthe owner, brother Hockins, was demanded. His wife told them she saw\nhim run up the hill a few moments before, which was true; but on seeing\nthe Confederate soldiers entering the town he hastened back to his\nhouse and ran down to the cellar. A squad of them entered and placed\nthe bayonet at his wife, and threatened her life if she did not tell\nthe whereabouts of her husband; but she persisted in pointing up the\nhill. They went down the cellar, but returned without finding him, and\nset the house on fire. Then they ran up the hill after him. She\nsucceeded in putting out the fire, and went into the cellar and called\nher husband. He answered from between the earth and the floor. This was\nhis hiding-place until the Union soldiers rescued the city from further\ntrouble. A strong Union force was now kept at this point.\n\nI found fewer suffering for want of rations at this town than in other\nplaces I had visited, and took the stage for Fort Scott. We were\nadvised to keep out of sight any appearance of watches or any sort of\njewelry, as guerrillas were sometimes lurking in the woods and attacked\nthe stages. We came in sight of Indians on horses who darted into the\nwoods, fearing we were guerrillas, who had stolen or robbed them of\ntheir ponies. One man shouted, \"We are all for the Union.\" This was on\nPrice's track, where they lost their horses, and did not dare come in\nsight.\n\nLate at night we reached Fort Scott. My first call was on Colonel\nBlair, commander of the post, who, with his wife, kindly offered me a\nhome with them while I remained at that point. They introduced me to\nDr. Slocum, who gave a sketch of the terrible destitution of the forty\nthousand refugees and freedmen, who passed through this great\nthoroughfare. Many of them had stopped here. He took me to a number of\nthe destitute families, and gave directions to others, and left me to\nmy work. Here was a great number of the poor whites, called\n\"Clay-eaters,\" who complained about government dealing rations to\ncolored people. I heard one of them, say that \"if niggers would stay\nwhere they belonged, with their masters, they would have more\nwhite-bread and beef.\" I told them, I had learned that many of their\nhusbands were fighting against the government while the husbands of\nmany of the colored women were fighting to sustain it, and I should\nfavor those who were on the side of the government. I asked them why\nthey did not themselves remain in their old homes? \"We came 'case our\nmen was conscripted,\" they said. One woman and her daughter of eighteen\nhad each a filthy, ragged bed quilt over her shoulders, and their faces\nwere so swarthy that their eyes and teeth presented as great a contrast\nas those whose natural skin was of darker hue. As the little boy of\nfour years had no shoes, and I had a pair left that would fit him, I\ntold the mother to wash his feet and try them. \"Sal, bring me that cup\nthar,\" said the woman. Their drinking cup with water was brought. \"Han'\nme that rag thar,\" and she wet her hand and wet the feet, and was\nwiping off the mud, when I told her they were not washed; to look at\nthe mud on the bottom of his feet and between his toes. \"O, yez'm,\" she\ndrawled out, and wet one end of the rag in the cup, and made a second\neffort. When the shoes were put on, he could not walk without holding\nto his mother or sister. They were probably the first he had ever had.\n\nMost of the day was spent in visiting this class of persons--the most\nignorant, listless, and degraded of any people I had ever met. On\ngiving a description of the ignorance and filth, of the poor whites I\ncalled on, Colonel Blair inquired \"What would you do with them?\"\n\n\"I would keep body and soul together till Spring opens,\" I answered,\n\"and then load up your great army wagons, and take them out upon the\nrich prairies and dump them out, giving them the homely adage, 'Root,\npig, or die.'\"\n\nThe greatest difficulty in managing this class was to get them to do\nany thing. Not so with colored people; they would do any thing they\ncould find to do.\n\nI found in this camp of two thousand, a colored woman of an earnest\nChristian principle. Colonel Blair gave her an excellent character. He\nsaid that I might place implicit confidence in any statement she would\nmake. Her history was a novel one. She ran away from a cruel master to\nthe Indians, and married an old Indian, and had four children. She said\nher husband came in great excitement and asked her if she wanted to run\naway to the Yankees? She said no, because she thought they were another\ntribe of Indians. He ran out, and soon came back, and said, \"If you\nrun, go quick. I am old; they can't rob me of many days, but they\nsha'n't have the children to punish.\" He threw them on a horse and ran\noff into the woods. She supposed her old master had found her out, and\nran another way. Then she heard that her husband was dead, But the Lord\nhid her from the cruel master, though he broke up her family.\n\nAfter spending three days in this place, including Sunday, I took the\nMonday morning stage for Leavenworth. In sending packages to all these\nplaces, to reliable friends with whom I had made acquaintance, I\nrequested that no clothing be given to healthy men and women who\nrefused to do work when they could get it.\n\nIn one of the hospitals at Leavenworth were two Confederates, one of\nwhom had recently become a Christian. He said when he went into this\narmy he knew not for what they were fighting, but when he learned the\nreal cause, he was for the Union, and should do all he could for it.\n\nDuring the month of December, we relieved four hundred and forty-four\nfamilies. There were thirty children in both buildings under my care.\n\nBy request of J. R. Brown, the Freedmen's Aid Commission of Michigan\nconsented to allow me to take charge of white refugees in connection\nwith the freedmen. General Curtis detailed a sergeant for my assistant.\nAnother important helper was a noble young woman, Amanda A. Way, who\nopened a school for children of inmates of the two buildings. I found\nit difficult to bring into school the white children, and only by a\nrequisition could I accomplish it, or induce the mothers to wash the\nhands and faces, and comb the hair of their children, to fit them for\nschool.\n\nThis, like all previous fields of army mission work, was a laborious\none. Our Sundays were spent in teaching a large class in three\nSabbath-schools, besides attending the public services and generally\ntaking part in them. At the close of one of the meetings a deacon and\nhis wife rushed through the crowd to me, and gave such an exhibition of\njoy that it drew the attention of the congregation. He gave a glowing\naccount of my visit to Little Rock, Arkansas, and of my life-long work\nfor their down-trodden people. The hand-shaking for half an hour made\nmy hands lame for three days. The deacon bought himself when a young\nman, and acquired a property worth four thousand dollars. Slave-holders\noften said that he knew too much, and thought he was a damage to their\nslaves. If they lost any, they charged him with aiding them away. He\nwas often lodged in jail and fines imposed upon him. At length he sold\nhis property at half its value to come to Kansas, where he could\nbreathe freely.\n\nOn New Year's day I found a poor woman in the last stages of\nconsumption. She could not speak a loud word. I hired another poor\nwoman to care for her, by giving bed and wearing clothes for herself\nand children. I left them in tears, saying, \"We thank you, honey, and\npraise God. When my poor mother died in that old out-cellar, neither\nfather nor one of us was permitted to give her a cup of cold water, but\nthe last words she was heard to say was, 'I'm going home to die no\nmore.'\"\n\nI visited ten families and sent four boxes more of supplies to Fort\nScott. The next day I took a barrel of hospital supplies to Fort\nLeavenworth.\n\nMy supplies were now low, and the money nearly spent. I received a\nletter from the chairman of the committee having charge of preparations\nfor the Ladies' State Freedmen's Fair, to be held in Detroit,\nsoliciting relics of the war. J. R. Brown proposed that I should attend\nthe fair and take his brother's sharp-shooter, that the captain carried\nthrough the border-ruffian conflict in Kansas, and during his movement\nat Harper's Ferry. After a few days' reflection I reached the\nconclusion to go. General Curtis gave me a pass to Detroit and return.\n\nThe John Brown gun created much interest. Besides this relic, the fifty\npounds of slave-irons, which we picked up on deserted plantations in\nthe far South, were exhibited in this fair. A petition from Lenawee\nCounty was sent to the committee having charge of the fair, to place\nthe avails of our county, one thousand dollars, in my hands for\ndistribution. This money relieved much suffering, and no doubt saved\nmany lives.\n\nDuring my visit home I sold Raisin Institute and ten acres of land,\nwith an excellent orchard, to the State Freedmen's Aid Commission for\nan orphans' home. I donated three hundred dollars of the purchase money\nto this enterprise, stipulating that the premises were to be used for\nno other purpose. In my absence the friends gave the asylum the name of\n\"Haviland Home for Homeless and Destitute Children.\" This home I\nintended as a nucleus for a State Orphan Asylum, as the war had\nincreased the necessity for such an institution.\n\nAfter two weeks' absence I returned with supplies. Spring was lessening\nthe suffering, yet sickness from long exposures still prevailed. Miss\nFidelia Phillips, a teacher, came with a letter from the Michigan\nFreedmen's Aid Commission, for us to locate and secure board, which\nduty fell upon me. I hired a conveyance and took her to Oskaloosa,\nJefferson County, and found board for her in the kind family of Dr. J.\nNelson, who proposed to assist the colored people in securing a house\nfor the school at once.\n\nI found here a poor sick woman with her five children, who was ordered\nout of her cabin, as she could no longer pay the rent. Dr. Nelson\npromised to see that she was not disturbed until she was able to be\nmoved, when he would take the family to Leavenworth to go with me to\nour Home for Homeless Children in Michigan. Her husband was in the\narmy, and she had not heard from him since he enlisted. On my return to\nLeavenworth I received an order from our Freedmen's Aid Commission, to\nsend twenty-five children with five mothers to assist in caring for\nthem. I accompanied them as far as Quincy, Illinois, with Mrs. Lee and\na teacher who had been in the work a few months. They pursued their\njourney, and I went back.\n\nOn April 15th the sad news reached us of the assassination of President\nLincoln! A nation in mourning! Every house of any note or size was\ndraped with black.\n\nWe were now preparing to close the two refugee buildings before leaving\nfor Michigan. I offered the women the best dresses for finding their\nown places for work, and by this means many found places, if only to\nwork for their board till they could do better. A good old woman we\ncalled Aunt Phoebe came to us with her four grandchildren, and begged\nto go to Michigan with me. She said the father of the children ran away\nto enlist in the army, and his master followed him. After an absence of\nthree days, he returned with the report that he had got sight at him,\nand ordered him to come to him, but he refused, and he shot him dead.\nAt this report his wife (the daughter of Aunt Phoebe), gave a scream\nand fainted. Both master and mistress were very severe, and whipped her\nseverely for making so much fuss, as they called her grief. She sank\nunder their severity, and died, leaving her infant, a week old, with\nher mother. Within a few days the oldest boy was taken with small-pox,\nbut as he was not very near the other sick children, Dr. Carpenter\nthought the others would escape. I rolled him in a couple of quilts and\nsent him to the pest-house. Aunt Phoebe wept bitterly, as she said she\nshould probably never see Jerry again, and he was such a good boy to\nhelp her take care of the other children. A few days later she was\ntaken with a low type of lung fever. I had one of the colored women in\nthe place nurse her.\n\nThe white refugee women took but little notice of my offer of best\ndresses, in finding homes for themselves. I found these women of the\nlowest class of humanity. I called on General Curtis, and told him I\nhad expended my fund of lecturing material upon these white women in\nthe refugee building, and now I had come to report to him as I had of\nlate threatened them, that, while I was willing to do to the extent of\nmy ability in relieving and improving the most degraded, I could not\nconsent to keep under my charge a house of ill-fame. \"I will give you a\ngood honest guard day and night over that building,\" said the noble\ngeneral. This did more than all things else to scatter them. They swore\nthey would not be tyrannized over by that Yankee woman any longer, and\nleft, very much to my relief.\n\nWithin four weeks our little small-pox boy was returned, but not as\nsafe as the surgeon reported I took him into the wash-room and gave him\na thorough cleansing, before taking him to see his grandmother, who\nwept for joy.\n\nI spent a few days in revisiting Quindaro, Lawrence, Wyandotte, and\nKansas City. I found seven homeless children, and a mother of three of\nthem who wished to go with me to Michigan. During the day and night I\nwas in Kansas City I was taken with a severe attack of pneumonia. I\ncalled on an army surgeon for mustard, of which, I placed a plaster\nover the seat of the pain, that had become so severe as to cut every\nbreath. I could neither lie down nor sit still, but walked the room.\nPlacing the children in charge of the mother, I telegraphed my sergeant\nto meet me at the boat with a hack. I took the boat for Leavenworth,\nwhere the carriage met me, and I was taken to our home, with a high\nfever, but the pain not quite so severe, as the mustard was serving its\npurpose. Dr. Carpenter said I could not go to Michigan under a month.\nAlthough my side remained very sore, yet I managed to sell the\nfurniture. I took a hack to General Curtis's office, and managed to\nsecure transportation for seventy-five, myself and Mrs. Lee included.\nThere were three sick children, and I very much doubted the propriety\nof removing them. Dr. Carpenter said they would be more likely to live\nthan if taken to the hospital, as I proposed.\n\nWe left the city May 28th, with a cloud resting over the nation. My\nhealth was still poor, and we had three sick children, whose mother was\nwith them; three other children began to complain of chills and fever\nsoon after leaving. These cases soon developed in measles, but my haste\nto reach home urged me to proceed against my better judgment. While it\nlooked like presumption in others, I felt safe, as prayer for guidance\nwas my daily bread. While waiting at St. Joseph, Missouri, for the\ntrain, I obtained rations for the company. Susan B. Anthony had\nprovided a lunch-basket, well filled, for Mrs. Lee and myself, to serve\nfor the entire journey.\n\nWhile we were handing around rations, various remarks were made as to\nwhat I was going to do with all this company. Said one, \"I reckon,\nshe's got a big plantation to stock with a picked set of young niggers,\nshe's going to train to her own liking.\" Said another, \"I am going to\nask where she is going with them.\" At length one ventured, \"Will you\nplease excuse me, madam, if I ask you where you are taking all this\ncompany?\"\n\n\"Certainly,\" was my answer; \"I am glad to inform you. I am taking these\norphan children, who have been picked up on the streets, and out of\nfreedmen's homes, to an orphan school in Michigan. By order of the\nState Freedmen's Aid Commission, they will be sent to school until good\nhomes can be secured for them, where they will be taught habits of\nindustry, as well as to improve their intellects. We of the North think\nthey can learn, if an opportunity is provided.\"\n\nAt this he was much pleased, and, as it was communicated to other\nbystanders, a number came to congratulate me in my good work. One, who\nhad a large number of slaves, said he wished they were with me, \"as it\nwould be a right smart of a while before it'll be settled here to have\nschools for 'em.\"\n\nAll stood ready to put the sick ones on the train. Mrs. Lee took care\nof the sick during the night, and I had them in charge during the day.\n\nAfter our arrival at Quincy, Illinois, and our transportation papers\nwere filled out for Chicago, with a little difficulty I secured the\nlargest coach for the seventy-five passengers. By 9 P. M. all were in\ntheir beds. A few men were disposed to trouble us, because we did not\nallow them to enter. I called for the night policeman, and told him of\nfour drunken men who were disposed to give us trouble, and as the train\nwas not going out until eleven o'clock I appealed to him for aid. He\nassured me we should not receive further annoyance from them. We\narrived in Chicago thirty minutes before the Michigan train left for\nAdrian. I bought tickets for four omnibus loads, but the drivers were\ndetermined to crowd them all into two. As they were putting little\nfolks from four to eight years old on the tops I ordered them down. \"We\nare capable of taking care of these children, madam,\" said they; \"you\ntake that one.\"\n\n\"So am I capable of taking care of them,\" I replied, \"and of you too; I\npaid for four omnibuses and must have them.\" They had their own sport\nover their countermanded orders.\n\nWe arrived at Adrian June 1st, and met the superintendent of the\n\"Haviland Home\" with teams for the women and children. Here my heavy\nburden fell off, and I dropped into the home of my children to get the\nrest which I so much needed.\n\nA few week's rest restored my health. Meanwhile I visited our State\nPrison, and one of the convicts, Thomas Lean, requested an interview\nwith me, which was granted by the officer. He appealed to me to aid him\nin securing his pardon, as he had served seven years of his term of\nfifteen. He pleaded as earnestly in behalf of his wife and two little\nchildren as for himself. I told him I would do what I could, but as\nefforts had been made twice before, I thought success quite doubtful. I\ndrafted a petition, and secured a letter of recommendation from\nGovernor Blair, and a strong letter from Judge Ross Wilkins, who gave\nthe sentence, and from the prosecuting attorney who acted in behalf of\nthe United States in his case, and also secured fifty other names to\nthe petition. With six hundred dollars placed in my hands by Mrs.\nCampbell and Mrs. Pappineau, committee who had charge of the funds of\nthe Freedmen's Fair, I left for Washington, D. C., August 3d. At\nPittsburg I spent one night, and on the following day visited the State\nPrison at Allegheny City.\n\nThe next morning I took the early train for Baltimore, and from thence\nto Annapolis, to learn the result of Elizabeth L. Comstock's petition\nin behalf of fifteen convicts in the Maryland Penitentiary for aiding\nslaves to escape from bondage. I found ten of those men had been\npardoned, but as four of them had used weapons in defending themselves,\nand one had taken a span of horses which the friends engaged in their\nbehalf deemed theft, they were retained in prison. I found another on\nthe governor's record for the same offense. I took the names of the six\non my list, as the governor thought they were as worthy of release as\nthe others, since the weapons were designed for self-defense, and the\nhorses were only used to take them to the river, and were left to\nreturn to their owners. I saw the names of the friends who co-operated\nwith E. L. Comstock on the petition, and called on James Bains, who\nintroduced me to Judge Bond. The judge said he thought I was correct in\nmy views as to the worthiness of the six men presented for his\nrecommendation to the governor for clemency, and that he would attend\nto it soon. Said the Friend: \"If thou feel'st easy to petition for\ntheir pardon I think thou hadst better remain with us until it is\naccomplished, as they have such an amount of business on hand at this\ntime.\"\n\nThe judge seemed to think himself distrusted, and said: \"Mrs. Haviland,\nI will attend to this within a week.\" With this assurance I told the\njudge and the Friend that I should feel easy to pursue my journey the\nfirst of the week.\n\nFrom this office I was accompanied to the penitentiary and introduced\nto the warden, who sent a guide to conduct me through the shops and\ngranted me the privilege of addressing the sixty-eight female convicts.\nA large majority of them were colored, placed there by their former\nowners for trivial offenses, the real cause being that of leaving them,\nbut ostensibly for stealing a dress, a pair of shoes, or a dollar or\ntwo, etc. One smart-looking octoroon girl of eighteen years was about\nto be whipped by her mistress, but she had heard of the proclamation of\nemancipation and concluded that she had been whipped long enough, and\nsnatched the cowhide from the mistress and whipped her. For this she\nwas arrested, had a sham trial, and a sentence of nine years'\nimprisonment in the penitentiary. One man told me that the mistress\nreported that the girl half killed her, but he saw her riding out\nwithin four days after the whipping, and she looked as well as usual. I\nvisited a very sick white woman in her cell, to whom I read a portion\nof Scripture, and at her request led in prayer. She said she was going\nto meet her Judge, in whom she trusted. Jesus hears the cry of a\nrepentant sinner, and she was confident.\n\nThe following day was the Sabbath, and I accompanied my friend to the\npenitentiary, where he opened the Sabbath-school and invited me to\nteach a class of thirty men. There were nearly five hundred inmates in\nprison. As we were leaving the yard a request from the warden reached\nme to conduct the funeral service of the woman I had visited. She died\nwithin a few hours after I left. Three o'clock P.M. was the hour\nappointed. I met them in their chapel, that was well filled, some\nladies of the city being present. Many of the convicts were much\naffected. They also manifested great interest at the meeting on the\nprevious day.\n\nOn the following day I arrived at Washington. I found the White House\nperfectly besieged with pardon-seekers from ex-slave States. I called\non a number of the officials, who said that the severity of Thomas\nLean's sentence made the case look dark. I told them of one who had\nrobbed the mail of five thousand dollars and was pardoned in three\nyears, whose term was ten years. But he had wealthy and influential\nfriends to intercede for him, while this man robbed the mail of\nforty-two dollars and had served over seven years of the fifteen, and\nwas poor. Besides, his wife was in poor health, and was supporting\nherself and two small children. I was advised to take the letters, with\npetition, to Postmaster-general Dennison, from whom I secured a\nrecommendation for his pardon. From thence I went to the capitol and\nsecured the names of Hon. F. C. Beaman, Member of Congress, Senator Z.\nChandler, and all other Michigan members of both Houses to my petition;\nand through Mr. Wade, the President's house-keeper, I secured an\naudience with the President, who took my letters with the petition and\nsaid he would refer them to the Attorney-general, and do what seemed\nbest in the case. I then left him with his room crowded with Southern\npardon-seekers.\n\nWhile in the Postmaster-general's office the chief clerk said, \"Come\ninto this, office at nine A.M., next Wednesday, as I think that will be\nhis pardoning day, and you will learn the result.\" I waited until\neleven A.M., fearing for the worst. As I opened the office-door the\nclerk threw up both hands, crying, \"Your man is pardoned! your man is\npardoned! Come and see the notice in this morning's paper.\" A hearty\nhand-shaking followed the good news.\n\nI told him I did not know that he had taken such an interest in my\ncause. He replied, \"I have had an interest in this case from the first\ntime you came into this office.\" A few days after I received a note\nfrom the pardoned man conveying his tearful thanks. Here was another\nburden laid aside, for which grateful thanks were tendered to the\nHealer of broken hearts.\n\nI received a permit from Secretary Stanton to trade at the government\nstore, where new goods were being sold at auction rates. For five\nhundred dollars I purchased two thousand dollars' worth of supplies to\ndisburse among the sick, crippled, and aged, both colored and white.\nThere were many in Washington and Georgetown relieved from great\nsuffering. I learned of much suffering at Harper's Ferry, and took four\nhundred dollars' worth to that point.\n\nOn my way I called at the Baltimore penitentiary. As I entered the\nwarden's office he informed me that our men had been released ten days\nbefore, except one, who was going out within a week. Another burden\nleft me. These men were making efforts to free their families by\nflight, and were caught and received long sentences, according to the\nnumber in their families. Three men of the six had bought themselves,\nand in their efforts to free their families received from ten to thirty\nyears' sentence, although two of these families were recovered by their\nowners. They all looked like intelligent men. I took an early train for\nHarper's Ferry. In the seat opposite sat a Presbyterian D. D., with his\nbody-servant, who was very attentive in bringing him his coffee, books,\nor roll of manuscript \"How far are you going on this road, madam?\"\ninquired our dignitary.\n\nOn informing him he inquired, \"Have you friends there?\"\n\n\"I have,\" I said, \"but I never saw them. They are the poorest of the\npoor, the sick, lame, and blind, of all classes, black, white, red, or\nyellow. I draw no lines of demarcation.\"\n\n\"Well, madam, that is a noble work, and God will bless you in it. I am\nnow on my way to Vicksburg. I preached in that city a number of years.\nI own a plantation near that city, and had forty slaves. A little\nbefore Vicksburg fell I moved with them to Richmond, Virginia, and when\nthat city fell I set them free, and they are now as free as myself.\nMadam, I will tell you what your duty is. It is to go to New York,\nPhiladelphia, and Boston, and gather up fifty thousand dollars, and\nfollow Sherman's track through to the Gulf. You will find plenty of\nsuffering to relieve among both white and black; and you can do it.\nThose cities I have named are wealthy, I have been there myself. I\nspent a few months in New York, and I know you can gather up that\namount easy, and it's your duty, madam; and God will bless you in it.\"\n\nThe consequential air be assumed would give one an impression that he,\nat least, considered himself, inspired with power from on high. He did\nnot feel quite satisfied without repeating his command on our arrival\nat Harper's Ferry: \"Do as I have told you, madam, and God will bless\nyou; good by.\"\n\nI found my goods had just arrived, and the commander of the post kindly\noffered to store the bales of supplies and furnish an ambulance and\ndriver whenever I desired. My first inquiry was for a boarding place,\nas the house where the colonel was boarding was full. Mrs. Johnson was\nabout opening a boarding-house, and I called on her for a few days'\nboard.\n\n\"Where are you from?\"\n\n\"From Washington,\" was my reply, \"with supplies for the poor freedmen\nand whites who are in a suffering condition.\"\n\n\"Oh, you are a Bureau woman then. We don't have nothin' to do with\nBureau folks. I can't board you.\"\n\nAfter being directed to two others, who made like inquiries, and\nreceived like replies, I found I was going to have an all-day job on\nhand in feeling the public pulse at Harper's Ferry. After making eight\ncalls, chatting a while at each place pleasantly, for I would talk in\nno other way, although I was told in nearly every place that no one in\nthat town would disgrace himself by walking on the streets with a\nnigger teacher, or speaking to one, on my way to report my unsuccessful\nday's work to the colonel, it being after sunset, I found an army\nsurgeon sitting on his front porch.\n\n\"Have you found no place for dinner?\" he asked.\n\n\"O no,\" I said, \"I have been amusing myself over Confederate fever that\nI find runs too high for health in your town.\"\n\n\"My mother-in-law is away,\" he answered, \"but my wife and I will give\nyou our room to-night, and we will see that you have supper at once.\"\n\nAt Mrs. Bilson's (the mother-in-law) I remained during the week.\n\nAt the close of the week I attended a quarterly-meeting of the\nMethodist Episcopal Church. When the minister invited all who loved the\nLord Jesus to testify, I, with others, accepted and took part. At the\nclose he came and inquired who I was. I introduced myself as usual.\nAfter reading my papers from the Governor, Members of Congress, and a\nfew ministers of Michigan, I received a number of invitations to their\nhouses, which gave me an opportunity to relate my first day's\nexperience in their town. They made a number of excuses. Among them was\nthe fact that Miss Mann (Horace Mann's sister), kept herself\nexclusively with the colored people. She not only taught their school,\nbut boarded with them, and made no calls on white people. They\nacknowledged that those upon whom I had called were not in sympathy\nwith the Union.\n\nHere, as in other places, were those in extreme suffering, both white\nand colored. One blind man, and an old white man and his wife, were too\nsick to take care of each other. One sick woman, whose husband was in\nthe army, had no fire, only as the little girl of three years old\ngathered old boots and shoes around an old camp with which to build it.\nAll of these cases were relieved.\n\nOne day it rained too hard to be out. A little girl brought an umbrella\nwith a request from her folks for me to call on them. I went and met\nabout a dozen men and women, who wished to consult with me. The troops\nwere liable to be withdrawn. If so, their lives would not be safe an\nhour. A few nights before a mob broke their windows and rushed into\ntheir grocery and took sacks of flour and meal, pies, cakes, and\ncrackers, and strewed them over the street, in front of their grocery,\nand broke up their chairs and tables, and swore that no nigger should\nhave a business place on Main Street. They threw stones and brickbats\ninto their living rooms, and the men, women, and children ran to the\nsoldiers for protection, with bleeding bruises that were bound up at\nthe time of my call. A sad picture they presented with their broken\nfurniture and injured bodies.\n\n\"What use is there in gathering more? Can you tell us what to do? You\nsee our lives are in danger as it is. If the troops shall be withdrawn,\nwhat shall we do?\"\n\nThere was a Free-will Baptist just arrived, who proposed opening a\nmission school in that town, and had just sent word that he wanted to\nmeet them at their prayer-meeting. Of this I, as well as they, was glad\nto hear. I met with them, and was pleased with the Christian spirit of\nthis brother, and the prospect of his school among them seemed like a\nsilver lining in their dark cloud. We learned of his success in opening\nand continuing that school, which a few years after assumed the\ncharacter of an academy.\n\nThe following day I took the train for Washington, and was accompanied\nto the depot by a number of the citizens, who manifested very kindly\nfeelings, I was told by some to be sure to call on them if I ever\nvisited their town again, and they would see that a weeks or a months\nboard should cost me nothing. One man and his wife pointed to their\nbrick house to which I could come, and be more than welcome. I left\nthem, and soon met kindred spirits in Washington.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV.\n\nHOME MISSION WORK.\n\n\nThere were many sick, crippled, aged, and blind sufferers in Washington\nto visit and relieve, but the severest trial I endured was encountering\nthe virus of disloyalty wherever I went. Women were more outspoken than\nmen, because they could dare be. Men were more subtle and appeared more\npliant, only to hoodwink government. They said in secret, \"We'll yet\ngain by the _ballot_, with the help of Northern sympathizers, what we\nfailed to accomplish with the bullet.\" By order of President Johnson\nthe colored soldiers were every where discharged and withdrawn from\nforts and garrisons, at the request of their former masters, only to be\nleft to their unrelenting hate. One colored man returned to the\nplantation of his wife's master, and asked him if he could take his\nwife and children to himself, as he had means, after two years of\nservice to support them. The only answer he received was the contents\nof a pistol, that took his life instantly! I heard of similar murders\nin this vicinity, of which no notice was taken by the State authorities.\n\nI visited a number of large schools in Alexandria, September 14th, and\nwas invited to address them. Two of these were kept in two of the\nlargest slave-pens in the city. Alexandria was one of the greatest\nslave marts in Virginia. In the Avery slave-pen there was a\ndungeon-like room, designed for one standing, with iron staples to\nwhich the wrists were locked, and a sort of stocks for the feet, when a\nstream of cold water was pumped over the nude form of the refractory\nslave, from ten minutes to an hour or more, according to the offense.\nThey told me they had known them taken down chilled to death. It was\nsaid to be one of the most cruel punishments. They showed me the stump\nof the whipping post, where hundreds of writhing victims had suffered\nthis kind of torture. But it did seem as if the better day was coming,\nto see a hundred and fifty-three black children here so eager to learn,\nand to hear them read so well after only four months' schooling. I met\na woman on the street in deep mourning who was weeping. I inquired the\ncause of her grief. She said: \"I have been to visit the grave of my\nonly son. His father died a few months ago, and this darling son was my\nonly child. He died in the Union army; but what does all this terrible\nsacrifice amount to? President Johnson is giving strength to the\nrebels. Every rebel general has been pardoned, and the vast amount of\nland restored to them is increasing their power. You see, wherever\ntroops are withdrawn they commit murders, and no notice is taken of it.\nI feel as though my son's life and thousands of other precious lives\nhave been sacrificed for nothing.\" I could say but little to comfort\nthat poor, broken-hearted, widowed, childless mother. I could only\ncommend her to our Heavenly Father, who alone can console the widow's\naching heart.\n\nOn September 15th I took a steamer for Richmond, Virginia, and arrived\non the 16th at Fredericksburg. Here were standing many chimneys,\nshowing us the waste places and burned houses in this small but quaint\nold city. I called at the teachers' boarding-house, kept by a good\nUnion family, Wm. J. Jeffries. Mrs. King accompanied me to the\nsoldiers' hospital. Here, as elsewhere, the poor suffering soldier\nseemed rejoiced to see and hear the representative of their mothers.\nAfter reading the Scripture and prayer I left a number in tears.\n\nHere was the home of General Washington's mother. I visited the house,\nand a feeling of solemnity came over me as we passed through her\nsitting room into the large bed-room, where report said she died. Near\nby is her tomb. The pedestal only stands erect, but badly marred by the\nchisel in chipping off pieces, by hundreds of visitors Our teachers\ninquired if I would not like a chip from the tomb. I told them that no\nchisel or hammer should be applied for me; but I picked up a little\npiece at its base. We had gone but few rods before a carriage drove to\nthe tomb, and the chisel and hammer were flaking off keepsakes for four\nmen. The long block of marble designed to have been placed on the\npedestal lay near it half buried in the ground where it had lain nearly\nor quite a century.\n\nAfter inspecting the rebel earth-works and rifle-pits, I visited Miss\nStrausburg's school of 181 poor white children, quite unlike any\ncolored school I had visited any where, as to order. They commenced to\nsneer at me the moment I entered, but their teacher invited me to speak\nto the school, and they became at once quiet and respectful. Little\nJames Stone asked permission to sing for me, and he sang a religious\nhymn in which nearly all the school joined. To my surprise they sang\nthe \"Red, White and Blue\" and \"The Soldier's Farewell to his Mother,\"\nfor which I thanked them. In passing along the street after the school\nwas dismissed, many of the children came out with their mothers,\npointing toward me. At two places I halted to speak to them and their\nmothers, which pleased them very much.\n\nThe next day I visited a few Union families, who gave some interesting\nfacts concerning their trials. I left two dollars with one sick woman,\nwho wept as I left her. I called at Major Johnson's headquarters. He\nwas very anxious to send on an orphan baby one year old to Camp Lee\norphanage, in Richmond. He gave me a paper that would secure its\nadmission. On arriving at Richmond I left my charge at the orphanage.\nAs no name was on the paper, or was given to me with the child, the\nmatron, Mrs. Gibbons, named him Haviland Gibbons.\n\nI visited the orphanage a number of times. The matron said the little\nfellow learned his name very readily. Here was a pair of twin boys,\nabout two years old, very black and smart. As they quarreled so much of\nthe time, Judge Fitzhugh proposed to name them Abe and Jeff, after the\ntwo Presidents. Though a strong Confederate, he said they were smarter\nthan any white children he ever saw, and to prove his position he\ncalled them out to dance, as he had taught them to step the figure. He\nsang for them, and they danced to his music.\n\n\"There, I'll venture to say,\" he said, \"you never saw two white\nchildren of their age do that. I tell you the negro race is naturally\nsmarter than the Anglo-Saxon.\"\n\nI told him I was surprised at this remark, when he had told me a few\nminutes before that the negroes would soon die out, because they could\nnot take care of themselves.\n\n\"That is true,\" he rejoined, \"and I have written a book in which I take\nthe same position, and can prove it. They will do more work than white\npeople can, but they lack calculation; hence the necessity of their\nbeing under the supervision of the whites.\" We have the planning\nfaculty, and they have the ability to do the work. There is therefore a\nnecessity for both races to work together to be a successful people. I\nrepeat what I told you before, that we never shall prosper separated.\nThe power of governing must remain with the Anglo-Saxon race, and God\nhas so designed. The Yankees have made a sad mistake in freeing the\nslave, for in time they will become extinct; but God will never suffer\nthis state of things to remain, and you will see the South in power in\ntwo years, and the North minus the power she now wields.\n\nI cited him to black men in Canada, who had escaped from slavery and\nwho had acquired wealth, and to one of the wealthiest livery men in\ntheir own city. I also referred to a shoemaker who had been free but a\nfew months.\n\nHis credit was sufficient to purchase ten dollars' worth of stock,\nwhich he made up and sold, paying for his stock; he then made another\npurchase and was hard at work to purchase a little home. His wife was\nwashing and house-cleaning, with the same object in view. They told me\nthey allowed themselves meat but once a week, and lived on corn-bread,\nmush, and molasses, and that they intended to live and work in this way\nuntil they should succeed.\n\n\"Does not this look like calculation?\" I asked.\n\n\"I admit,\" he said, \"there are isolated cases, but it is not the rule.\"\n\nHe gave me his book to read, entitled \"Sociology of the South, by J.\nFitzhugh, Att'y.\" I found it a perfect bundle of inconsistencies. He\ngoes into a labored argument against free-labor, free-schools,\nfree-press and free-speech, as destructive to a prosperous people. He\nclaimed to be a cousin of Gerrit Smith's wife, and said that they were\ncrazy over slavery. He also claimed that President Johnson was doing\nall he could for them, and that through him they were going to have\ntheir rights restored. He knew of men who had gathered half a bushel of\nConfederate money, and said they should keep it until it would be worth\nas much as greenbacks. He also knew men who had bills of sale of\nnegroes, a foot deep, that they were keeping to recover their slaves,\nor pay for them; and he was confident that it would be accomplished\nwithin two years. This I found to be a very general feeling among the\nmost prominent Confederates.\n\nOn September 20th I visited a number of sick that I supplied with\nbedding and clothing. I walked six miles that day, and then went to the\noffice of the Freedmen's Bureau, where I was furnished with an\nambulance and driver to take things to the sufferers I had visited.\n\nAfter spending several days in this work, visiting schools and giving\nattention to many sufferers, I returned, weary in body but restful in\nmind, and thankful that the friends of humanity had made me the almoner\nof their gifts.\n\nOn October 2d I spent some time in Libby Prison. My sanitary goods were\nstored in one apartment of it. The prisoners were under guards, and\nwere permitted to assist me in opening, closing, and moving barrels and\nboxes, a portion of which I prepared to take to Ashland. One of the\nkeepers took me to the long, deep tunnel which the Union prisoners had\ndug under the building to escape from their terrible sufferings. To\nlook at the great risk they were running in their fruitless effort to\nescape, speaks loudly of the desperation to which they were driven. My\nguide gave me a few of the hand-cuffs that our officers removed from\nsome of the emaciated prisoners when Richmond was taken. The doors of\nCastle Thunder and Libby were opened, and the hand-cuffs were placed on\ntheir cruel keepers, who had made a boast of killing as many Yankees in\nthese prisons as their troops were killing in battle.\n\nI went out some distance, October 3d, to an old camp, where a school\nwas organized in an old slave-pen. Here was the stump of the\nwhipping-post cut even with the ground. I was shown where stood the\nauction-block. As I listened to a history of cruelties inflicted here I\ndid not wonder that our nation was compelled to pass through this\nbaptism of blood. Pointing to a large plantation in sight, said one:\n\"There lives my old master, who said in the beginning of this war,\n'Before my children shall ever be disgraced with work I will wade in\nblood to the horse's bridle.' He did fight hard as long as the war\nlasted. But last week he told his two sons that they must go to work or\ndie. He came into my shoe-shop the other day with his feet almost bare,\nand I took the best pair of boots I had and gave them to him. I know he\nthought of old days, for I did.\"\n\nAfter talking to the children at school I visited the aged and sick.\nAnthony Wilson, very aged, said, \"Dun kno' how ole I is. White folks\nsay I's more'n eighty. Had heaps o' ups an' downs; good many more downs\ndan ups; my big family all tore to pieces two times.\" I gave him a\nwhole suit of clothes. \"Bress de good Lo'd,\" he exclaimed, \"dis is de\nbest suit I eber had; dis I reckon is my freedom suit.\" Mary Brackson,\nalso very old, had two little grandchildren with her. Their mother was\nsold down the river when the youngest was a year old. Her life had been\na sad one. She was crippled with rheumatism, and her arm had been\nbroken by an overseer's club. I gave her a bed-tick, quilt, blanket,\nand a few clothes for herself and grandchildren. Then I visited and\nrelieved four other families, to whom I gave advice, and with the most\nI read and offered prayer, which always seemed to be a great comfort to\nthem.\n\nTwo days after I took a train with supplies for Ashland. I arrived in\nthe afternoon and met an excellent Union family, formerly from England,\nJudge James, whose house was battered on each side with bullets and\nshells in the severe battle fought at that place. This town, the home\nof some strong political men, seemed dilapidated and forsaken. Judge\nJames's wife and daughter were noble women, and I found a very pleasant\nhome in this family. They directed me to the most suffering families\nand individuals. My first call was on Charlotte Boles, whose reply to\nthe query for her age was, \"I dun kno'; missus 'specks I's eighty,\nlarge odd.\" She had served three generations.\n\n\"I's had so many children,\" she said, \"I can't tell till I call de\nnames: Pomp, Jim, Tom, Sol, Sue, Dick, an' Dilcy; den some babies I's\ngot in heaven. I seed heap o' trouble in my time. I nursed at de breas'\neleven of my firs' massar's chillen, Isaac Wiston, and six of his\ngran'-chillen. I dress 'em firs', an' some on 'em for de grave. My\nsecon' massar, William Winfield, Jun., da have six chillen, an' I dress\n'em all firs', and most all at las' for de grave. O my God, I can\nneber, neber tell de trouble I's had. O how hard I prayed for freedom,\nan' de Lord come at las'. I's praise his name. De one dat I nurst when\na babie ordered me whipped 'case I cried so much when da sole my\nchillen down de riber. But I hear dat de war free five of my chillen,\nan' I's prayin' God to sen' 'em to poor me.\"\n\nNotwithstanding her great age her mind was unusually clear, and the\nfrequent starting tear manifested strong maternal affection.\n\nThere was not a house, yard, or grove but bore the mark of shell or\nbullet.\n\nAn exciting scene passed before us October 15th. Young Mrs. Pollard,\ndaughter of my host, who had became the wife of the noted Confederate\neditor of the most rabid paper in Richmond, had been forbidden to visit\nor even to correspond with her parents. Her husband said if she should\nattempt it, it would be at her peril. She found him to be inconstant,\nas he had become the paramour of a Cyprian in New York city, where he\nspent several weeks writing a book on the bravery of Confederate\nsoldiers. \"When she discovered these facts, with her heart full of\ngrief, she told him the reports she had heard of his inconstancy. He\nacknowledged all, and entreated her pardon. But he soon became as cruel\nas ever. During his absence in New York she took her son of less than\ntwo years and came to her father's house, a poor, heart broken woman. A\ndivorce was immediately sued for, and she received a summons to appear\nin court in Richmond. Although her father was there to receive her, she\nfeared Mr. Pollard would take her life, also her father's, at their\nparting. She threw her arms around her mother's neck and wept upon her\nshoulders; then, sobbing, said, as she rested her head upon my\nshoulders:\n\n\"Mrs. Haviland, you won't leave me after our arrival in Richmond until\nI am with my father, will you?\"\n\nWith an assurance that I would remain at her side until her father took\nher under his protection, she left her babe with her mother and we\ndeparted for Richmond. We met her father, with whom I felt she would be\nsafe. I find these extremes of love and hate more prevalent in the\nSouth than in the North.\n\nOn the 18th of October, after visiting fifteen suffering families, I\ncalled at the office for an ambulance and driver to go to Libby Prison\nfor supplies. These were obtained and distributed, and such gratitude\nfrom the recipients I never found elsewhere. Same of them wept aloud. A\nnumber of the women kissed my hands as I left them, and the hearty \"God\nbless you, honey,\" was an everyday blessing from these poor-crushed\nspirits.\n\nOne of our officers came to me with the urgent request of two women,\nliving in a large brick house, to see me. I obeyed the summons at once.\nAs I rang the door-bell, a genteelly dressed lady in black satin met me\nat the door. I inquired if there were two ladies here who had sent for\nme? She replied in the affirmative. By this time the other lady\nappeared in the hall, also dressed in rich silk.\n\n\"What are your greatest needs,\" I asked, \"that will come within my\npower to supply?\"\n\n\"We want money, madam,\" they said, \"and must have it.\"\n\n\"Are any of your family sick?\"\n\n\"No, madam, but money we must have.\"\n\n\"Will rations answer your purpose?\"\n\n\"No, madam, we want no such thing; we want _money_, and must have it.\"\n\nI told them I had no money to disburse, and only supplied food and\nclothing to those who were suffering from greatest destitution, and\nleft them without being invited inside their house. I saw at once they\nwere most accustomed to the imperative mood.\n\nThe captain came to me a few days after and inquired if I found it in\nthe way of my duty to relieve the wants of those two ladies? I told him\nI asked them a few questions and did not think it worth the money\ndemanded. He said they had sent for him, and a number of other\nofficers, making the same demand, and as they had not succeeded they\nsent for me, and he was not disappointed at the result.\n\nAs I was passing their news depot, I saw blazoned in red letters, \"No\n_New Nation_ sold here\" I stepped in and inquired for their best paper.\nThe _Examiner_ was handed me, edited by Pollard, the whilom son-in-law\nof Judge James, one of the most rabid Confederate sheets in Richmond. I\ninquired where the _New Nation_ was sold. They said nowhere, unless a\nfew \"niggers\" might be found selling it on, the street. One of them\npoured forth a long catalogue of epithets: \"Arrant liar,\" \"reckless\nvillain,\" and finally a \"crazy scamp.\"\n\nAs I was passing the street one day, and saw \"New Nation,\" I thought I\nwould call on the \"insane editor,\" Mr. Hunnicutt. I ascended to the\nthird story, where I found the busy editor and his son. They were\nsurprised to see a lady of sufficient moral courage to call on them.\nThe editor exhibited a pile of anonymous letters, threatening his life.\nHe was an outspoken Union man, and had received over one hundred of\nthese nameless letters within three months. He was a native of\nVirginia, and said:\n\n\"The Union of the States is a fixed fact, and I will advocate it\nsquarely, though it cost me my life, but Union principles must and will\nprevail.\"\n\nI left a dollar for a subscription to the _New Nation_ for six months.\nAs I was about to leave, said he, with tearful eye:\n\n\"A select few in this city meet once a week for a prayer-meeting, but I\ncan not attend it in the evening, as it is unsafe for me to be out\nafter dark.\"\n\nI told him I had received a secret invitation, and had attended each\nmeeting since my first knowledge of this praying band. I told him it\nwas one of the most solemn meetings I had ever attended. As in the days\nof the apostles, we met in an upper room at the hour of prayer, where I\nhad heard the editor of the _New Nation_ remembered.\n\n\"I know,\" he said, \"that I have friends in this city, and some I know\nare secretly friends for fear of this bitter spirit that reigns to a\nfearful extent. Don't forget to pray for me and my family. I dare not\nbring my wife and daughter to this city.\"\n\nMy work kept me here many days. November 25th I spent mostly at the\nsanitary rooms in Libby Prison, with Miss Morris, a French lady, who\nserved as a spy for the Union generals. Report had it that she was\nwriting a book of her exploits. A soldier told me he saw her a prisoner\nin Southern hands before the fall of New Orleans. But she managed to\nmake her escape from that city, and in disguise revisited it, and\nreported to our generals. She could speak French and German better than\nour own language. She often disguised herself most effectually. Her\nFrench politeness would have been quite annoying to me had it not been\nfor the faithful assistance she rendered in seeking out the sick and\ndying, not hesitating to enter filthy alleys, dark, cold cellars, or\nwith me to climb rickety flights of stairs into dark attics. I have\nfound in almost every place one or more Christian women who kindly\noffered to assist me, but few would dare visit those filthy places,\nfearing contagious diseases. Having had the small pox, and all other\ncommon contagious diseases, with my very plain habits of living, I\ndared to visit the sick and dying in any of these loathsome places,\nmany of which I found in Richmond.\n\nThe next day, being Sunday, was spent as usual in attending\nSabbath-schools. I spoke in two of them, and in one meeting. At night I\nwas at Camp Lee Orphanage with Annie Gibbons, the matron, who had an\ninteresting group of little folks. As they gathered around the table,\nat the tap of the bell, with clasped hands and closed eyes, they\nrepeated the verse:\n\n  \"Lord, teach a little child to pray,\n   Thy grace to me impart,\" etc.\n\nI met a colored man from Raleigh, North Carolina, who gave a few items\nof Andrew Johnson's early history, in regard to his apprenticeship in\ntailoring. If there was a dance within reach, black or white, it was\nall the same to \"Andy,\"--he was sure to be there. His boss, Mr. Selby,\nlectured him about his late hours, and to evade these lectures he often\n\"turned in\" with Handy Luckett, a steady old slave man, whose bed was\nin the loft of J. O. Rork's carriage house.\n\nAt a shoe-shop, I met John Blevins, a noble appearing John Brown sort\nof man whose sentence was forty years in the Virginia Penitentiary in\nRichmond. His crime was, aiding slaves to their God-given rights. He\nhad served sixteen years when Richmond was taken. The Union soldiers\nopened the prison door, and John Blevins, with four hundred other\nprisoners, walked out free men. His intelligence speaks of better days.\nHe is sixty years of age, and hard treatment had added ten years to his\nappearance. During the first few years of his prison life he could tell\nwhen a master had lost his slaves, as they would then place him in the\ndungeon, where he was kept for weeks at a time, to compel him to give\nthe names of other abolitionists, but they never succeeded. He was at\nthis time teaching a colored school. Out of school-hours, he worked in\nthe shoe-shop, and was trying to make enough to purchase for himself a\nsuit of clothes, when he designed returning to his home in\nPhiladelphia. He had just heard from a family that he assisted to their\nliberty, some of whom had become quite wealthy, and were trying to find\nhim.\n\nHe had written to them and was expecting to receive assistance.\nWhenever he went out on the streets he was annoyed by half-grown boys\nhooting after him, \"Old John Brown, nigger thief.\" At the time he was\narrested, they took all of his money, amounting to five hundred and\nfifty seven dollars.\n\nI visited a Baptist Sabbath-school where three thousand members were\nenrolled. Over one thousand five hundred were present. They were\naddressed by Professor Johnson, who introduced and invited me to\naddress the school. They very cautiously discussed the coming holidays,\nas they had never held one there on their own account. They decided to\nobserve Thanksgiving, Christmas, and celebrate the Proclamation of\nFreedom on New Year's day. Their minister advised his people to be very\ncareful in word and deed, so as not to give the least occasion for\nmisconstruing their motives. Some of the white people said it ought not\nto be allowed. They feared an \"uprising,\" but our soldiers said they\nshould have the privilege.\n\nI visited Howard Grove Hospital, under the charge of Miss Marcia\nColton, matron. She was a missionary among the Choctaw Indians nine\nyears, and was a noble, self-sacrificing woman. The surgeon of the\nhospital was D. R. Browery. I found a little boy of about eight years,\nwhose mother he said was \"done dead.\" He knew nothing of his father. I\ntook him to Camp Lee Orphanage. Here and there I find kindred spirits,\nbut none more devoted to the cause of Christ than sister Marcia Colton.\nShe gave herself entirely to the advancement of his cause during nine\nyears of labor among the poor, despised Indians. During the terrible\nconflicts of the war she unreservedly gave herself to the suffering and\ndying soldier, and she said that when, no longer called for in that\nfield her life was just as cheerfully given to uplifting the lowly\namong the freed slaves of the South.\n\nOn visiting the State Penitentiary, the keeper hesitated about allowing\nme admittance. Said he: \"I am afraid you'll give a bad report of us, as\ndid Miss Dix, who gave us a bad name, and I thought of her as you\nentered my office. You look like her, and I am afraid of you. You know\nwe don't have our prisons like yours of the North, like grand palaces,\nwith flower-yards; and I reckon I had better not let you in.\" I told\nhim I perceived they were rebuilding the part burned awhile ago, and\nwould make due allowance for bad house-keeping.\n\n\"Well, if you'll do that, I reckon I'll have to risk you, for you'll\nsee we are whitewashing the old cells and other parts of the prison,\nand then you must make allowance for its age. It was built in 1800, and\nis the first penitentiary in the world, and you Northerners have had\nall these sixty-five years to improve in, and then your gardens about\nyour prisons are all so grand that I am a little afraid of your report.\nBut, steward, you may take her through, and well see what she'll do for\nus.\"\n\nI discovered a contrast, it is true. But, as in other places in the\nSouth, they seem a century behind the times. I found here, as in our\nState prisons, a majority of the convicts were left orphans in\nchildhood. The number of inmates was at that time two hundred and\ntwenty-four. I called on the general in command to inquire for Oliver\nWilliams, whose wife requested me to see if I could find him. She was\nin Washington, D. C., and had not heard from him for a long while. I\nfound he had been sentenced to three months imprisonment to hard labor,\nwith ball and chain, but the time had now expired. The general referred\nme to Fortress Monroe, as the military prisoners had been removed to\nthat prison. He advised me to call on Governor Pierpont, who gave the\nsame reference, and gave me some interesting items concerning this\nState. He said that, but for slavery, Virginia would have been one of\nthe richest States in the Union in mines. Colored men were then making\na dollar a day in gathering gold dust without the facilities of\nenterprising men with capital. There were also silver, copper, nickel,\nand a fine quality of kaolin or porcelain clay. He exhibited a specimen\nof each metal, and two bowls made of the native kaolin, a very fine\nmaterial. To show the absorbing interest in slave-dealing he gave the\nfigures of income, as shown during the discussions in their State\nConvention in 1861. The _Metropolitan Press_ reported that \"the income\nfrom slaves for the last twenty years amounted to twenty millions of\ndollars annually, and from all other products eight million dollars\nannually.\" This Governor Pierpont believed to be a true estimate.\n\nI called at Sarah E. Smiley's Teachers' Home. Here I found Rachel\nSnell, daughter of Richard Snell of Lockport, New York, my old\nchildhood home. With this group of kindred spirits I spent a refreshing\nseason during a hard rain.\n\nNew Year's Day, 1866, was long dreaded by a large majority of the white\ncitizens of Richmond. Great excitement prevailed over its celebration\nby the colored people. Soldiers were seen in every direction. A few\ncompanies of colored men went on the common to organize for the day's\nprocession. The citizens were excited over that, and said they were\npreparing for \"insurrection.\" They had permission from the governor to\nform in front of the State House. In the park were rustic seats of\nancient style, chipped off and notched here and there, yet a colored\nperson had never been allowed inside unless as the body servant of his\nmaster. But now their banners of various devices were floating,\ninterspersed with United States flags. Each society had its motto, such\nas, \"Peace, Liberty, and Freedom with all Mankind;\" \"Union, Liberty's\nProtecting Society;\" \"Peace, Good Will to all Mankind;\" \"In Union there\nis Strength;\" \"In God we Trust.\" On a blue satin banner were initials\nof a Benevolent Protective Association. The religious exercises were\nopened in the morning by reading the eighth chapter of Deuteronomy and\nsinging an appropriate hymn. The text of the minister's discourse was a\npart of the second verse, \"And thou shalt remember all the way which\nthe Lord thy God led thee forty years in the wilderness.\" The minister\ncould read quite well, though his life had been spent in slavery. He\npresented the past and present prospects of his people in a clear and\naffecting manner, and the necessity of remembering the past, to be\nfully prepared to praise God for the precious boon of freedom he had\nbestowed upon their race. There were four very large congregations\nopened this morning in a similar manner, and songs of praise were heard\nfrom the marching multitudes wending their way to the State House Park.\nThere was shooting from a hotel window. Two of the suspected men were\ntaken to Libby Prison. With the soldiers on the alert, and an increased\nforce of policemen, they had no further trouble.\n\nAt the meeting of fifteen thousand or more in the park good order\nprevailed. I passed along through the moving masses, a silent listener\nto many outburstings of joy, contrasting with past sorrows--a great\nchange indeed. Editor Hunnicutt, of the _New Nation_, was called upon\nto make a speech, and he exhorted them to cultivate industry, honesty,\nand virtue. He was followed by a number of others. At three o'clock the\ncrowds began to disperse, so as to reach their homes before nightfall.\nIt is passing strange why the white people here were so much excited\nover this celebration. There were two colored Baptist Churches burned\ntwo nights before, and on the night previous threats were made that all\nwho took part In the celebration would lose their places of business.\n\nThe Episcopalian rector came after ten P. M. the same night to advise\nthe two teachers, Mrs. Starky and Miss Hicks, to continue their school,\nand persuade the scholars to remain, and take no part in it themselves\nwhatever, as the white people said this rejoicing was over the fall of\nRichmond and the downfall of the Confederacy. This idea was dwelt upon\nto such an extent that the Committee of Arrangements printed circulars\nand scattered through town during the week previous, stating their\nobject in full, \"that it was only to celebrate the day that God gave\nfreedom to their race, and nothing more.\" But _\"insurrection,\"_\n\"_uprising_ among the negroes,\" had been household words since the days\nof Nat Turner. The rebel flag was carried past Sarah E. Smiley's\nMission Home for Teachers twice that day. Had the fact been reported at\nhead-quarters, the bearers would have found themselves in the military\nprison.\n\nAs the army was being disbanded, and rations curtailed, and the\nsuffering for want of them equaled that for clothing, I was informed by\nthe general in command that there were more calls for rations by white\nthan the colored people since the fall of Richmond. Said he: \"I will\nmention a few to show the importance of investigation. Daniel Lacy had\nnine houses and servants and applied for and drew rations for his whole\nfamily. John Kimbo had servants out at work and drew rations for all\nhis family, and had a number of houses. Mrs. Mary Ann Moseby had a\ngrocery store well supplied, and drew rations and sold them. Mrs.\nElizabeth Hunt also kept a full grocery, and drew rations to sell. Mrs.\nSophia Coach, whose husband was a plasterer, drew rations. Mrs. Miller\nrepresented herself as a widow, and drew rations all the season, but I\nfound out that she had a husband at home all this time. Mrs. Houston\nhad a husband, but represented herself a widow, and drew rations and\nwood, as did all the others. The whole of two blocks drew rations, and\nmost of them wood. Joseph Mayo, who is mayor of the city, and was when\nit fell into Union hands, drew rations, and owns a number of houses,\nand has servants. Ten years ago his slave Margaret's babe died with the\ncroup, and he charged her with choking it to death, and had her hung on\nthe scaffold after being whipped almost to death. He sent one of his\nslave women to the penitentiary six months ago, for a trivial offense.\nI heard by one of her friends, that she said it was a relief, for she\nwas treated better there than at her master's. She is so rejoiced to\nlearn that when she comes out she will be a free woman, and never again\nbe compelled to serve that cruel master. But what contrasts we find\nhere in both races! I have never found as much lying,\nmisrepresentation, and cheating, among the negroes as among the white\npeople, in my experience in this four years of war. Our records show\nmore rations, wood, and coal issued to the whites than to the blacks in\nthe State of Virginia.\"\n\nI was careful to take down these items, in writing, as he gave them, in\nhis office. O, what changes, what reverses, were here experienced. A.\nR. Brooks, who bought himself fourteen years ago, was now a wealthy\nman, owned ten horses, and six fine hacks and carriages, and his former\nmaster, by the fall of the Confederate government, was reduced almost\nto beggary. A few months ago he sold his plantation of three thousand\nacres for Confederate money, and is now penniless. Last February his\nwife died, and his former slave, A. R. Brooks, bore the entire expense\nof her burial. He said he praised the Lord for giving him the ability\nto do it. But how greatly was that wealthy planter, Henry A. Winfy, now\nchanged in his prospects, when, a few months before, he considered\nhimself the owner of three thousand acres, \"well stocked\" with slaves\nto work it.\n\nWith every day come new scenes, and yet such a similarity;\ninvestigating, relieving, reading Scriptures, advising, and often by\nthe cot of the sick and dying. I often felt myself a stranger in a\nstrange land, and yet I was never alone. Although, boisterous waves\ndashed around me, yet the dear Savior was near at hand.\n\nI learned of much suffering on the Peninsula, and decided to take the\nrest of my supplies down the James River to Williamsburg. While\narranging my packages for leaving Libby, a multitude of people were\nthronging the street near the prison. I inquired for the cause of this\nexcitement, and was informed that a Union soldier was about to be\nexecuted for murdering a man for his money, horse, and buggy. As he was\nled out of prison upon the scaffold I hurried away, trembling with the\nterrible thought that a young life was about to be taken. As it was\nimpossible for me to speak to him I hastened to escape the sound of the\ndrop, but did not succeed. The horrors of war no pen can describe, no\ntongue can utter, no pencil can paint. The demoralizing influence over\nthe soldier is dreadful. No doubt desertion was this fellow's aim, and,\nto serve his purpose, he fell into this strong temptation and crime.\nDesertion cost the life of one whom I saw in Mississippi sitting on a\nwhite-pine coffin and followed by his armed comrades, who were soon to\ntake his life. It was then as now, too late to speak a word to that\nsoldier-boy. And I hastened to outdistance the report of the guns that\ntook his life. But I failed, as in the present sad event.\n\nI called on a number of friends and co-laborers in Richmond; for here,\nas in every place, I have found kindred spirits. I spent the night with\ndear sisters in Christ, who labored in his vineyard to uplift the\nlowly. Scripture reading and prayer closed this eventful day.\n\nOn March 3d, at six o'clock A. M., I left Richmond and took the steamer\n_Martin_ at the Rockets, followed by my friend, Mrs. Morris, with a\nbasket of fresh cakes, apples, oranges, and a bottle of wine. I asked\nher to excuse me for objecting to the bottle of wine, as I never drank\nit.\n\n\"O, indeed, you must take it; your royal highness may be ill, and you\nmay find it quite proper to take a little wine for your 'stomach's\nsake.' Don't, my dear madam, refuse your most humble servant the\nprivilege of presenting this basket and its contents, wine and all, to\nmy royal madam.\"\n\nAnd I saw by the starting tear that she would feel quite hurt if I\nrefused her, and accepted her gift.\n\nAs we steamed down the river I saw many little hillocks where were\nburied the fallen soldiers who left their northern homes with high\nhopes of saving the nation's life from the hand of treason. Here they\nfell long before Richmond was taken. We passed Burmuda Hundred and City\nPoint, upon which stood General Grant's headquarters. Next came\nHarrison's Landing, near President Harrison's birth-place, an ancient\nappearing building situated upon a high bluff.\n\nAt Wilson's Landing and Clarmount Landing there was a high bank, upon\nwhich lived one of the wealthiest men in the State of Virginia, William\nAllen, who adopted the name of his father-in-law for the sake of his\nimmense wealth. William Allen, sen., had no son, but an only daughter,\nand he offered his entire estate to any young man whom his daughter\nmight be pleased to accept, if he would assume his name; he cared not\nhow poor he might be, if he was only respectable. The daughter had many\nsuitors, but at length a young man won this bride and adopted the whole\nname--William Allen. At the death of the father-in-law he came into\npossession of thirteen plantations and over four thousand slaves. All\nthese plantations were managed by overseers. One man told me he had\nseen him take a keg of gold and silver coins down to the sand-bank,\nwith a company of his comrades, on a holiday spree, and when they were\nall thoroughly drunk he would take up a handful of gold and silver\npieces, throw them in the sand, and tell them to scramble, and he that\ngot the most was the best fellow. He, with the rest, \"scrambled,\" as he\ncalled it. William Allen declared that the Yankees had robbed him of\nfifty thousand dollars worth of negroes under ten years of age, and\nmore than one hundred and fifty thousand dollars' worth of slaves above\nthat age.\n\nAt twelve o'clock we landed at Jamestown. In this old, dilapidated\nplace were yet standing brick walls of three old buildings open to the\nbirds and the bats. The brick of these half-torn down buildings were\ntransported from England more than two hundred years ago. I saw a piece\nof a marble slab from the graveyard dated 1626, broken in pieces by\nsoldiers for relics. We were soon met by the ambulance-driver, and he\ntook us through a nice field of wheat owned by William Allen, just\nreferred to, who was one of our passengers to the ancient city of\nWilliamsburg. Here was a large insane asylum, built of imported bricks\nfrom England, with a marble front, erected, by Lord Bottetourt,\ngovernor of the colony. It was founded in 1688. The tower was\nninety-six feet high, and the number of inmates one hundred and one,\nforty-two of whom were colored. Robert M. Garrett was the physician and\nsuperintendent. This is the oldest institution of the kind in the\nUnion. In the front yard of this asylum stands, in life-size, the\nstatue of Lord Bottetourt. As we were passing through the apartments we\nlistened to a very sweet voice singing a hymn. Said my guide, \"Mr.\nScott is singing for you. He is General Winfield Scott's nephew. He bet\nboth of his plantations that the Confederates would succeed in this\nwar, and when Richmond fell he became insane and was brought here two\nweeks ago.\"\n\nI was shown an old brick church in which was a colored school of one\nhundred and ninety-six scholars, taught by Miss Barton, of Connecticut,\nand a gentleman from Michigan. Here I found myself at home at once.\nThere were here, previous to the late war, two institutions of\nlearning--the William and Mary College at one end of the main street,\nand at the other, three and a quarter miles distant, the female\nseminary. The college was burned in the war of 1776, again in the war\nof 1812, and, for the third time, a few months before I was there.\nThere was no school now in the female seminary, and it looked as if\nwaiting for repairs. Here is the old ivy-bound church in which George\nWashington was married. The bricks of this building were also brought\nfrom England. This town was the capital of tins State previous to its\nremoval to Richmond.\n\nI walked nearly two miles to Fort Magruder, where I found a colored\nschool of one hundred and fifty-eight members, taught by Maggie Thorpe\nand Martha Haines, of New York, under the auspices of the Society of\nFriends. To accommodate men and women who could not leave their work\nduring the day they opened a night school, and had fifty of that class.\nHalf of these did not know their letters when their school opened in\nFebruary, and could then read quite fluently in the second and third\nreaders. A few miles further there was another school of thirty\nscholars who had made commendable progress.\n\nThe teachers informed me that there were many very old people on the\noldest plantation near King's Mill, who needed help. I was furnished\nwith an ambulance, in which I took a bale of bedding and clothing, and\nwent from cabin to cabin to visit twenty-seven aged people, from sixty\nto a hundred and five years of age. After learning their most urgent\nneeds, I selected supplies for each. When I expressed my surprise at\nseeing the old plantation with such a grove of woods, Uncle Bob Jones,\nthe oldest of them all, said:\n\n\"Missus, all dat woods on dat side I helped clar off when firs' woods\nwas thar, beech, maple an' linn wood, only now an' agin a pine. Den we\nwork it till it wore out, an' wouldn't noffin grow on it, an' we lef it\nto grow up to dose pines you see.\"\n\n\"Is this possible?\" I said. \"I saw men chopping sawmill logs as I came\nthrough that wood.\"\n\n\"Yes, missus,\" he answered; \"shure's you are bo'n, my sweat lies dar\nunder dem big tree roots. My Milla an' me was married when we's\nchillen, an' we's had a good many chillen, but de Lo'd knows whar da's\ngone to; da sole down de riber, many, many year ago. But we prayed to\nLo'd Jesus to take keer on 'em all dese years, an' we'll go home to\nglory soon.\"\n\nIn answer to my query as to his age, he said:\n\n\"Massa Moses' book say I's a hundred an' five, an' my Milla's a hundred\nan' three. I might slip count a year or two, but I reckon not.\"\n\nI never before met one couple living to this advanced age. I gave them\nthe best new quilt I had, made by a class of Sabbath-school girls, from\neight to fifteen years of age, in Wayne County, Michigan. The names of\nthe little girls were written on the blocks they pieced. The old man\nwas quite blind, but he felt of it; then he exclaimed:\n\n\"Missus, did you say little white gals made this? Lo'd bless the little\nangels! Honey, look at dis; we's neber had sich a nice bed-kiver in all\nour lives.\"\n\nTo this she assented:\n\n\"I see it's a beauty; we's neber had sich a kiver afore, missus; tell\nde sweet little angels we'll pray for 'em as long as we live.\"\n\n\"Yes, tell 'em we won't stop prayin' for 'em when we gits up yonder, in\nde mansions,\" rejoined the old man.\n\nIt seemed to them wonderful that white girls should make such a nice\nquilt for black folks, and they were in an ecstasy over the surprise.\nAunt Milla could see to do considerable work in their little garden\npatch, that some of the younger men among them had spaded for her.\nEvery thing about their little cabin was neat and clean, and their\nclothes were well patched. Uncle Bob had been off this plantation but\ntwice in his life; then he went to Williamsburg. It was affecting to\nsee these old, worn-out slaves rejoicing over freedom, but it seemed to\nbe more on account of their children and of their race. They had passed\nthrough many hard trial but their faith was strong that they were soon\ngoing to rest with Jesus.\n\nA colored man brought two cripples to me, in his cart, for relief and\ntheir wants were supplied. He said he wished I could see two old men\nwho were living in the mill. One of them was an old soldier in the\nJackson war. My ambulance friend took me to the old brick mill that was\nthe first one built in that country, they said more than a hundred and\nfifty years ago. The roof was covered with thick moss. The cedar\nshingles, as well as bricks, were brought from England.\n\nI found here an intelligent mulatto man of about sixty years who had\nhad a fever sore a little above the ankle a number of years. He was the\neldest of twenty seven children. His mother had thirteen pairs of twins\nand he the only single child, and they were all sold to slave-dealers\nof the lower States.\n\n\"When my mother died in the cold cellar' he told me 'I begged to see\nher but my old master said he would shoot me if I dared to set foot on\nhis plantation case I'd been with Yankees and she died one year ago\nwithout a child to give her a sip of water. My wife and seven children\nbelong to another man who said he would shoot my brains out if I dared\nto come on his plantation. But I pray God to help my wife to go to the\nsoldiers before they are all gone and get them to help her to come to\nme with our children. I was one of the slaves that master promised\nfreedom, at the close of General Jackson's war and the general promised\nus ten dollars a month besides during service which was one year and\neight mouths. There were five regiments of colored men. Some got their\nfreedom as promised but my master and many others were more severe than\never. On my return home I reminded my master of the promise of freedom\nby him and General Jackson but I found it unsafe to say any thing more\nabout it. We thought General Jackson ought to have seen the promise\nmade good, as long as he promised freedom as well as our masters. He\ngave us credit for being among the best soldiers he had. But we never\nwould have fought as we did had it not been for freedom ahead. We\npledged ourselves to each other, that we never would fight for white\nfolks again, unless we knew our freedom was sure. And never would our\npeople have gone into this war had it not been for the Proclamation of\nEmancipation from the President of the whole United States.\"\n\nThis man was the most intelligent and used the best language of any\ncolored person of his age I met in this portion of Virginia. His\nmother's name was Maria Sampson. She lived and died in King William\nCounty, Virginia. There were twenty sons and seven daughters of her\nown. Yet, through wicked enactments, her master tore from her every\none, and claimed her own body besides, as a valuable piece of property.\n\nMy next visit was to an old brick kitchen. In the \"loft,\" lived two\naged sisters of seventy-five and eighty years, whose youngest brother,\nof about sixty years, was insane. His sisters said about twenty years\nago he \"lost his mind.\" His wife and children were all sold from him\ndown the river, and he grieved so long over it, he lost his mind, and\nnever came right since. As I entered, I took him by the hand and\ninquired for the aged women in that house; he pointed to the stairway.\nAs I was going up the stairs, he danced to and fro, slapping his hands,\n\"Glory, hallelujah to the Lamb!\" I paused to look at him. His sisters\nmet me at the head of the stairs, and said, \"Don't mind him, he has no\nmind, and is rejoicin' to see a white woman come up these stairs, for\nit's a new thing. I reckon there hain't been a white woman up here\nmore'n twenty year, an' he don't know how to tell his gladness.\". They\nsaid he was good to bring them wood and water, and take care of himself\nin washing and patching his own clothes. I presented him a suit, and\nwhen he found they would fit him, the dancing and singing were resumed.\nI should judge from the history his sisters gave of him, and from his\nhigh forehead, that he had been a man of more than ordinary talent.\nThese sisters, too, had been made widows and childless by slavery's\ncruel hand. This I found to be the hard lot of all these old people.\nThey told me of many cruel over-seers, that would take the life of a\nslave, to get their names up as \"boss overseers.\" I told them I had\nheard of instances where an overseer was missing occasionally. One old\nman dropped his head, then looking up said, in a hesitating manner,\n\"I's knowed that in my time, but massar keep it mighty still, an' say\nde overseer runned away, an' he git one right soon agin.\" I talked and\nread, and offered prayer with these stripped and lonely ones.\n\nDuring my three weeks' stay in Williamsburg, Fort Magruder, and\nvicinity, I had a number of meetings with these newly freed slaves,\nthree of them in those old slave-pens in which were large schools\ntaught.\n\nI took a stroll through the old graveyard which surrounded the old\nivy-covered church. The marble slabs were mostly in a horizontal\nposition, with quaint inscriptions. In these J, or I, was often found\nin place of the figure 1. The spelling, too, we should call badly\nwarped. I copied a few of the epitaphs, as follows:\n\n  Here lyes the Body of Mr John Collett, who departed this life\n  February 24th, 1794, aged 52 years\n\n  Sacred to the memory of James Nicholson, late stuard of William and\n  Mary College. Was born in the Town of Invenck, North Britton, ano\n  1711, died the 22nd of January, 1773. Frugality--industry, and\n  simplicity of manners and independence of Soul Adorned his character\n  and procured universal esteem.\n\n                              READER,\n  Learn from this example as the most exalted Station may be\n  debased by vice, so there is no situation in life on which virtue will\n  not confer DIGNITY.\n\n  Mrs. Catharine Stephenson died April 22; born in Nottinghamshire,\n  1778.\n        Her body now slumbers along with the dead;\n\n        Her Savior hath called, to him she has gone,\n        Be ye also ready to follow her soon.\n\n  Under this marble lieth the body of Thomas Ludwell, Esq., Secretary of\n  Virginia, who was born at Britton in of Summerset in the kingdom of\n  England, and departed this life in the year 1678; and near this place\n  lye the bodies of Richard Kerdp, Esq, his predecessor in ye\n  Secretary's office and Sr.\n\n  Thomas Lunsford, Kt., in memory of whom this marble is placed by order\n  of Philip Ludwell, Esq., nephew of the said Thomas Ludwell, in the\n  year 1727.\n\nAs Yorktown was an important post, after three weeks' work in this\nsection, I repaired to that ancient place. There I found two large\ncamps. A few large freedmen's schools were established under the\nauspices of Philadelphia Friends, and of these Jacob Vining had\nsupervision. Two others were under the supervision of the American\nMissionary Association. Both were doing a noble work for these people,\nwho were like hungry children, grasping at the food handed them by\nthese Christian teachers.\n\nWe had a very large meeting in the old barracks fitted up for school\nand meetings. There were more than could get inside, and groups stood\nat the door and outside the windows. Here I met two young men who had\nwalked all the way from beyond Fort Magruder, eighteen miles, to attend\nthis meeting. They were more intelligent than the larger portion of\nlife-long slaves. They were encouraged in the future prospect of\nfreedom. They said the white people declared they would soon have all\ntheir slaves back again, the same as they had before the war. Said one,\n\"They talk it so strong it makes us trimble. For we-uns think they'd be\nharder on us than ever.\" I told them to look at that strong fort built\nby Confederates, which they had said \"all the Yankees of the North\ncould never take.\" \"And where is it now?\" I said. \"You may rest assured\nit will be as I repeated to-day, 'Except the Lord keep the city the\nwatchman walketh but in vain; except the Lord build the house they\nlabor in vain who build it.' The Lord will never permit the house of\nbondage to be rebuilt, for the cup of our nation's wickedness has been\nfilled to the brim. They will never again barter for paltry gold the\nbodies and souls of those whom Christ died to redeem with his own\nprecious blood. No, never.\" They wept, while talking over the past,\nwith new hopes before them of their future. They said they were well\npaid for their long walk, though they should work the next day with\nblistered feet. They were working for their old owner, as he had\npromised to pay them. They had sometimes felt fearful as to the final\nresult of this war. If there were doubts, they would go as far North as\nthey could while they were enjoying their present liberty.\n\nA number lingered to talk with me on the prospect of freedom or slavery\nfor them, telling me of the positive expressions of their former\nmasters, and of their threats of having them all back again within a\nfew months. They wanted to know what the prospect was in Washington.\n\n\"Do you think we are sure to come out of the wilderness?\" said one.\n\n\"Will this sun of freedom, now peepin' troo de black cloud, come cl'ar\nout, an' make a bright day?\" said another.\n\nI found many of these people in trouble, because they saw plainly the\nold slave spirit reviving, and they were trembling with fear; but\nothers had stronger faith. There was one poor woman, whose husband and\nfour children were sold to a trader, to be taken down the river in a\ngang. When the news came to her master's home that Richmond had fallen,\nshe said:\n\n\"Missus an' all was cryin', and say da catch Jeff. Davis. An' I hurried\nde supper on de table; an' I say, Missus, can Dilla wait on table till\nI go to de bush-spring an' git a bucket o' cool water?' She say,\n'Hurry, Mill; an' I seed 'em all down to table afore I starts. Den I\nwalks slow till I git out o' sight, when I runn'd wid all my might till\nI git to de spring, an' look all 'round, an' I jump up an' scream,\n'Glory, glory, hallelujah to Jesus! I's free! I's free! Glory to God,\nyou come down an' free us; no big man could do it.' An' I got sort o'\nscared, afeared somebody hear me, an' I takes another good look, an'\nfall on de groun', an' roll over, an' kiss de groun' fo' de Lord's\nsake, I's so full o' praise to Massar Jesus. He do all dis great work.\nDe soul buyers can neber take my two chillen lef' me; no, neber can\ntake 'em from me no mo';\" and the tears fell thick and fast as she told\nme how she clung to her husband, then to her children, as the trader\ntook them to the slave-pen to lock up till they were ready to start for\nthe river. Her mistress ordered her to be whipped because she cried so\nlong for her husband and children. I did not wonder at her ecstasy.\n\nA poor old slave, called Aunt Sally, came to me April 15th; crippled\nwith rheumatism, and walking as well as she could with two canes. She\nasked for a blanket or quilt, saying that one old blanket had been her\nonly bed for seven years. I told her I should pass her home the next\nday, and would bring her some things. She said, \"I mus' hurry back, or\nmissus will fin' me out. You gib 'em to the man choppin' wood in de\nyard; he'll put 'em in de cellar for me. Missus is mighty hard on you\nalls;\" and she hobbled back as fast as she could with two canes. But\nher mistress found out that she had been to see me, and told her she\nshould never set her foot inside her yard again, neither should a\nYankee. The day following I took a package for Aunt Sally, containing a\nstraw bed-tick, quilt, blanket, and a good suit of clothes; for I had\nlearned that Mrs. Pendleton, the daughter of ex-President Taylor, was a\nhard mistress. Aunt Sally had served her father, and helped bring up\nhis children, and was now seventy-five or eighty years old. From the\ncold, damp cellar, with only one blanket to cover her, she had become\nbadly crippled, and was left to die, like an old worn-out horse.\n\nThe colored man near the fence of the back yard told me I would find\nAunt Sally in a little cabin he pointed out, with two old colored\npeople. I found her crying. She said her mistress had turned her out,\nand told her she should never come inside her yard, nor eat a kernel of\nthe corn that she had planted in ground all spaded by herself, and it\nwas growing so nice. The old people very kindly offered to share with\nher. He was a cobbler, and made all he could, but he said they had but\none bed. I furnished one for her, and gave the old people a quilt and a\nfew needed garments for their kindness to Aunt Sally. They, too, had\nbeen stripped of all their large family, as well as Aunt Sally of hers.\n\nAs I passed Mrs. Pendleton's front yard I saw a large bloodhound on the\ndoor-step as sentinel. Even a look at him from the street brought a\nthreatening growl.\n\nHere, too, were William and Phillis Davis, over eighty years of age,\nthey think. They had fourteen children, \"all sold down the river,\" they\nsaid, \"except those we's got in heaven. We's glad they's safe, an' we\ntrus' de jubilee trumpet will retch their ears, way down Souf, we don't\nknow whar. We's cried for freedom many years, an' it come at last,\"\nsaid the old, tottering man.\n\nEva Mercer, over seventy five years of age, had a large family. Her\nhusband and all her children were sold twenty years ago. She has been\nleft to perish alone, and had had no underclothes for seven years. She\nwas supplied, and made more comfortable than she had been for years.\n\nDavid Cary, one hundred years old, in great suffering, was relieved.\nHe, too, had a large family. Three wives were sold from him, and his\nchildren, one, two, and three at a time, were sent down the river,\nnever to be heard from again. He said he forgot a great many things\nevery day, \"but I can never forget the grief I passed through in\nparting with my good wives and chillens.\"\n\nPross Tabb, ninety years old, was turned out of his cabin, and came to\nthe captain crying. He said, \"Massar Tabb turn me out to die by de\nroadside. I begged him to let me build me a cabin in de woods, and he\nsay if I cut a stick in his woods he'll shoot me.\" The captain informed\nJ. P. Tabb that he would violate the martial law, and be fined and\nimprisoned, if he turned that old man out of his cabin, where he had\nlived and served him many years. The poor lone man was permitted to\nremain. J. P. Tabb owned twelve thousand acres of land, and had called\nhimself master of one hundred and sixty slaves; now all had left him.\n\nSunday, May 3d, was a beautiful Sabbath. In the morning I attended\nservice at the school-house, conducted by a Baptist minister, who\nexamined nine new converts. Among them was a little girl, Susan Monroe,\neight years old. The preacher asked her, \"What have you got to say\n'bout Jesus, sis?\"\n\n\"He tuck de han' cuffs off my han's,\" she replied, \"an' de spancels off\nmy feet, an' Jesus made me free.\"\n\nWith a few other satisfactory answers he passed to the next, a man of\nforty, perhaps: \"And what have you to tell us?\"\n\n\"It 'peared,\" he said, \"like I's so heavy here, on my heart. I could do\nnuffin but groan, 'Massar Jesus have pity on poor me;' an' as I was a\nwalkin' 'long de road, he cum sure, an' poured hisself all over me, an'\ncover over my han's an' my feet, an' made me all over new. I say is dis\nme? Glory, hallalujah! dis is me. I went on an' met sis Molly. 'What's\nde matter o' me? it's all full tide here,' I says. 'Why honey,' she\nanswered, 'you's got 'ligion; praise de Lord! Now keep de pure stuff,\ndon't trade it off for de devil.' An' by de help o' de Lord, I don't do\nany sich tradin'.\"\n\nThe next was queried. \"Ah, I's played de fool,\" he said, \"in jist dat\nkind o' tradin'. I's an ole backslider. Ole Satan had me, sure, an' I\ncried, 'Massar Jesus, save me from dat horrible pit,' an' he fotch me\nout, an' put dese feet on de rock, and here I means to stan'.\"\n\nOthers were examined, and a season of prayer followed. Their prayers\nwere marked for their originality and earnestness. Said one woman, \"Oh\nLord, do please hitch up your cheer a little nearer your winder--draw\naside your curtain, an' look down 'pon us poor creturs, an' gib your\ntable-cloth a good shake, dat we may pick up a few crumbs.\"\n\nThere were many of these much more intelligent than I supposed I should\nfind them, and used as good language as the white people.\nHouse-servants and body-servants were more intelligent than those who\nlived only in the field. They were very imaginative, and talked with\nGod. One woman in giving a sketch of slave life, said a young girl went\nto a night meeting contrary to orders, and for so doing was stripped\nnaked and whipped in the presence of the other slaves, the master\nhimself plying the lash. While she cried for mercy her master replied,\n\"I'll give you mercy.\" \"Good Lord do come and help me.\" \"Yes, I'll help\nyou\" (and kept plying the lash). \"Do, Lord, come now; if you ha'n't\ntime send Jesus.\" \"Yes, I'm your Jesus,\" retorted the inhuman\npersecutor, and he continued to ply the lash until thirty strokes were\nwell laid on.\n\nThe colonel commanding this post called on me with a request to go to\nGloucester Court-house, to look after the condition of the freedmen\nthere. There were several very old, crippled people in Gloucester, in\nalmost a nude condition. I agreed to go, and the colonel went to\nprocure a buggy, as his own was broken; but he failed to get one,\nthough more than a double price was offered, because he was a Yankee.\nHe returned discouraged, as he was unwilling to send me in a Virginia\ncart, the only government conveyance. I told him I had frequently seen\nthe wealthiest ladies sitting on straw, with no other seat in the cart.\n\"O yes,\" he answered, \"the F. F. V.'s ride in that way here. But you\nlook too much like my mother to see you go in that style. I could not\nbear to have your children in Michigan know that I sent their mother\nout to ride thirty miles in that way;\" and tears filled his eyes, as he\nreferred to his own mother in his far off Northern home. I told him if\nI could accomplish any good by going, I was more than willing to take\nthe cart-ride, as I could make a seat with my bale of clothing, and\nthus I went.\n\nI crossed York River at Gloucester Point, and stepped into a store to\nwait for our soldier driver. Here a Southern brigadier-general\naddressed me in the following style:\n\n\"I reckon you are from the North, madam.\"\n\n\"I am from the State of Michigan,\" I said, \"but more directly from\nWashington.\"\n\n\"You Northern people can not be satisfied with robbing us of millions\nof dollars in slaves, that were just as much our property as your\nhorses and cattle, but you stole our sheep and horses, or any thing\nelse you could get hands on; and yet that was not enough. Now you have\na bill in Congress to rob us of our land, and of course it will pass.\nThen we'll go to work and mix up a little cake to bake for our\nfamilies, and you'll come and snatch even that away from us.\"\n\n\"You probably refer,\" I said, \"to the bill just introduced, to allow\nthe _leaders_ in this Rebellion no more than twenty thousand dollars'\nworth of real estate, confiscating the balance, to sell in parcels to\nthe soldiers and poor people, black or white, on liberal terms, to\nliquidate the _war debt_. This debt would never have been contracted,\nhad not the South brought on the war. You fired upon Sumter; you\ndetermined to sever the Union. It was a bargain of your own making. You\ndetermined to make slavery the chief corner stone of the Republic, but\nanother stone, _Liberty_, has ground it to powder. We had better accept\nthe situation as we find it, and not call each other thieves and\nrobbers because your chief corner-stone is no more. God never designed\nthat we should make merchandise of human beings. In the written Word we\nfind that God made of one blood all the nations of the earth. We find\nthere no lines of distinction because of color or condition. Now let us\ndrop slavery and hold it no longer as the bone of contention, and live\nhenceforward a united nation.\"\n\nWith flushed face and flashing eyes he said, \"_Never_, NEVER shall we\ngive up our rights. We acknowledge you have overpowered us, but you\nhave not, and _never will_, conquer us; we shall yet in some way secure\nour _rights_ as Southerners, notwithstanding all your Northern\npreaching.\"\n\n\"If you carry out your position,\" I rejoined, \"you will unite with some\nforeign power to break up our government, or to grind its republican\nform into powder and scatter it to the four winds.\"\n\n\"Of course we should, and you can't blame us for doing that. It is just\nexactly what we shall do if we have the chance.\"\n\nAfter a few minutes unpleasant talk of this sort our soldier drove in\nfront of the door for me. We borrowed a little box, upon which a coffee\nsack of clothing was laid, and we thus made a comparatively comfortable\nseat.\n\nWe reached Gloucester, and, on May 10th, went to the office of Captain\nMcConnell. He was engaged all the morning in hearing complaints on the\npart of the freedmen and in adjusting their wrongs. Some of them were\npitiable cases of outrage, but we can not report them here. There were\neight difficulties settled within the few hours that I remained in the\noffice. I resumed visiting and supplying the wants of the destitute as\nfar as my means would allow. There were some old and crippled people\nhere in the same condition as those whom I had relieved in other places\nin this part of the State. As usual, I took with me my Bible, for these\ncolored people had none, because they had never been permitted to learn\nto read. Many of them gave thrilling sketches of their experiences in\nslave-life.\n\nOn May 13th, at four o'clock P. M., I found myself back at Old\nYorktown. Here I visited the cave in which General Cornwallis was\nfound. The old wood house in which the treaty was signed is covered\nwith thick moss. A two-story brick building was Washington's\nhead-quarters after he took possession of Yorktown. It was also the\nhead-quarters of the Union generals after it fell into their hands.\nHere was the stamping-ground of two great armies. The contention was\nnot now with British red-coats, as in the Revolution, but with our\nbrethren in gray. Richard Lee, an ex-slave-holder, undertook to whip a\ncolored man with the help of his overseer, after the old style, but in\nthe struggle he found himself cut in two or three places, and the blood\nwas flowing pretty freely from the overseer. The colored man told them\nwhipping days were past, and he came out of the affray with but few\nscratches. His offense was refusing to work on Sunday afternoon. They\nentered no complaint at the office of the Freedmen's Bureau, and the\ncolored man went about his business unmolested.\n\nAfter taking leave of many dear friends at this place, through the\nkindness of sister Ailsgood, the matron of the Teachers' Home, I was\nconveyed to the boat in Lieutenant Massy's carriage. We enjoyed a\nbeautiful run on the Chesapeake. Among our passengers for Norfolk was a\nyoung lady who seemed bright and gay, but had nearly spoiled herself\nwith affectation. She was going to visit her aunt previous to entering\nupon her new duties in teaching a school.\n\n\"I never did do any thing of the kind,\" she told me; \"but pa says I\nmust; now that we have lost all our servants by this awful war. But I\ndon't know how I'll do. Do you think I can teach a small school?\"\n\nReceiving a word of encouragement, she went on:\n\n\"I reckon I'll have to try. We've always had a lady preceptress at our\nhouse, besides the nurse, to take care of us.\"\n\nA few minutes after I saw her weeping bitterly, as if her heart was\nnearly broken. Placing my hand upon her shoulder I inquired if she had\nheard bad news that was grieving her? She sobbed and sighed with quite\nan effort in commanding her feelings to speak.\n\n\"No; do you see that man yonder with a light hat on?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Well, he winked at me, and I was never so insulted in my life.\"\n\nAnd she burst again into tears.\n\n\"Don't grieve over that,\" I said; \"I wouldn't look at him.\"\n\n\"But I never was so insulted. I'm so glad my brother ain't here; I tell\nyou there'd be trouble.\"\n\n\"Never mind; don't notice him.\"\n\n\"Won't you stand by me?\"\n\n\"Yes; I'll stand here,\" I answered. And she soon became calm, when I\nthought it safe to leave. But a few moments later I saw her weeping as\nhard as ever. I went across the cabin to her relief the third time and\ninquired, \"What is the trouble now?\"\n\n\"He winked at me again, and I never, never was so insulted. I know if\nmy brother was here he'd shoot him, for he'd never stand this.\"\n\nI stood by her this time till I saw her in the ladies' dressing-room,\nby her request remaining between her and the object of her fears, who\nwas at least fifteen feet from us, sitting in the farthest end of the\ncabin. After she had washed and combed her hair she asked, \"How does my\nhair look? I never combed my hair myself. Our nurse did that always,\nuntil six months ago our last servant left us, I don't know if it looks\nwell anyhow, for I don't know how to dress it. And do my eyes look as\nif I'd been crying?\"\n\n\"Not to be noticed,\" I said. \"You look all right.\"\n\n\"Will you see if that fellow has gone out?\"\n\nOn the report that he had left she returned. I inquired if she was\nalone.\n\n\"O, no, not entirely; pa put me under the care of a splendid man; I\nreckon he's on deck; O, he's such a beautiful gentleman; he was pa's\noverseer a good many years; pa thought he couldn't carry on our\nplantation without him; when I see him I'll be all right. I reckon\nyou've heard of my pa. Everybody knows him--Mr. Hampton--in Gloucester\nCounty, one of the most splendid counties in the State. Were you ever\nin Gloucester County?\"\n\n\"I was there last week,\" I answered.\n\n\"Isn't it the most beautiful county you ever saw?\"\n\nI replied, \"Nature has done enough to make it so.\"\n\n\"It was a grand county before the war,\" she said. \"Everybody thinks\nit's the best county in the State of Virginia.\"\n\nBut my opinion widely differed from hers. It seemed to me one of the\ndarkest and most God-forsaken corners of the earth. But the influence\nof slavery had its deleterious effects upon whites as well as blacks.\n\nLaura Hampton knew nothing of self-reliance. All she knew was to be a\nconsequential young lady of distinction, full of exalted qualifying\nadjectives in the superlative degree. But she was not so much to blame\nas her parents for her simpering and tossing the head with overstocked\naffectation. She was to be pitied for her unfortunate surroundings. Her\n\"splendid man,\" a \"beautiful gentleman,\" was a coarse, burly headed\n\"Legree\" in appearance.\n\nI arrived at Norfolk at four o'clock P. M., and found a pleasant home\nat the Tyler House. Here, I met eighteen teachers, with whom I enjoyed\na refreshing prayer-meeting, led by S. J. Whiting, a missionary, who\ngave an interesting sketch of his experience in the Meudi Mission in\nAfrica. I gave an account of the work accomplished through the blessing\nof God in the Mississippi Valley, while I was accompanied by my dear\nsister Backus, and spoke of trials I had recently passed through. Here\nwere kindred spirits, with whom we held sweet communion, and with our\nHeavenly Father, who is ever near at hand.\n\nWhile in this part of the State, I saw a white woman who had been\ncruelly assaulted and beaten with a raw-hide by her sister and niece\nfor associating with the teachers of our freedmen's schools. They\nthought she had disgraced the family; but she said she would not turn\naway from those Christian ladies, however her own kindred might treat\nher. O the wrongs and outrages which the spirit of slavery inflicted\nnot only on the blacks, but also on the white people of the South!\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV.\n\nEXPERIENCES AMONG FREEDMEN.\n\n\nI was told by General Armstrong, commander of the post in Elizabeth\nCity, that twenty-five thousand inhabitants had been supplied with\nfood, and that more whites than blacks had called for rations. There\nwere six thousand freedmen in this district. Twenty-six hundred of\ntheir children were in schools; and thirteen hundred were half or\nentire orphans, that drew rations. They had had no civil court here\nsince March 20th, and no justice was shown to freedmen. There was as\nmuch complaint here as elsewhere about their unwillingness to work; but\nthe general said it was only because they got no pay. A few plantations\nwere rented here by Northerners; but they made no complaint for want of\nhands, and had more applications for work than they could furnish.\n\nGeneral Armstrong secured a carriage, May 18th, to take his wife and\nmyself to the Downey School, a few miles distant, to see what a noble\nwork the two Stewart sisters were there doing. He took us to a large\nfarm of eight hundred and six acres, rented by a Northern man by the\nname of Jackson, who said he had worked it three years, and had taken\nit for two years longer. He had no difficulty in keeping good help.\n\"All these people want is fair and kind treatment\" he said, \"to make\ngood and faithful hands the year around. I can not employ all who come\nfor work. I have seen them leave weeping over their disappointment.\"\n\nNear this place was the school conducted by the two sisters, Emily and\nJennie Stewart, of South Hill, Steuben County, New York. They had one\nhundred and eighty-five scholars, and were doing a grand work among the\nwhite people in that community. Two young men were converted through\ntheir instrumentality, and were exerting a powerful influence over the\nwhite people. They were attending the school, to which a number of\nwhite families sent their children. It widely differs from all others I\nhave visited In the South. These earnest Christian girls were\nemphatically teaching a school of Christ on week-days as well as on the\nSabbath. The two young men referred to had the ministry in view, and\nwere very earnest in their exhortations. I addressed the school, and\nconversed with those young white men, who seemed in a very tender frame\nof mind. These dear sisters urged me to spend a week with them; and\nGeneral Armstrong kindly offered to send his conveyance for me at the\nclose of the week, or whenever I might fix the time. But as my supplies\nwere out, I wished to hasten back to Washington.\n\nDuring the day's ride we passed the place of a large Sabbath school,\nwhich was first opened by a soldier, W. Badger, Jun., a faithful\nlaborer in this work. It had flourished ever since.\n\nWe visited a number of plantations with which the general was\nunacquainted. He hailed a passer-by to inquire the distance to the Old\nBrick Church. \"O, you're smash up to it,\" he said. I looked up to see\nit, when he continued, \"'T ain't but two miles ahead.\" The general\nthought it was three miles, at least, before we reached the old\ncolonial church, built one hundred and twenty-five years ago, out of\nbrick brought from England.\n\nWe passed through, a forest of young pines that had been rented three\nyears to colored people in five and ten acre lots. They were to receive\none-fourth of all they raised, and pay the remainder as rent. Said the\ngeneral, as we came opposite a ten-acre lot where a man, his wife, and\ndaughter were all hard at work grubbing. \"That man will hardly get a\nmeager subsistence from one-fourth of that land.\" And he inquired of\nthe man if he expected to get his living off the fourth of that lot.\n\n\"I reckon so,\" was the answer. \"After we gets the crop in my wife and\ngal can tend it, and I'll get work by the day while its growin'.\"\n\nSunday, May 20th, was a pleasant Sabbath. I attended a large meeting,\nand listened to a very interesting discourse by a freedman. At the\nclose he earnestly exhorted his hearers to purity of life in their new\nfreedom. He wanted to see all filthy habits left behind with bondage.\n\"Do not let us take with us,\" he said, \"any habit of drinking--not even\nusing tobacco. Let us search ourselves, and see if we are worshiping\nGod with clean hearts and mouths.\"\n\nOpportunity being offered, I made a few remarks from II Chronicles,\nxv:12, \"And they entered into covenant to seek the Lord God of their\nfathers with all their heart and with all their soul.\" After meeting,\nminister and people gathered around me to shake my hands, until they\nwere lame a number of days. Said one, \"Da's took de bridle off our\nheads, an' let us loose to serve God.\" Near the place was the Zion\nMethodist Church, that had been used occasionally for _auction sales of\nslaves_. There were thirty acres here, purchased by colored people,\nlaid out in two-acre lots. Most of them had built little cabins, but\nothers were working out by the day to earn means to pay for their lots\nbefore they built.\n\nIn the evening I visited a school of twenty-five adults, who could not\nattend during the day. A number of them read for me very intelligibly.\nJames Wright did not know his letters at Christmas, but could now read\nfluently. He was sixty years of age. Robert Bell, aged fifty, who did\nnot know his letters in March, could now read in the second reader.\n\nCaptain Flagg and wife invited me to take another ride out in the\ncountry where colored people had rented land.\n\nOn our way we met five carts laden with F. F. V.'s. The captain\ninquired of one man how far it was to Providence Church. \"Sir,\" he\nanswered, \"you are slap-jam on to it; only a mile and a half, sure.\" As\nusual we went twice the distance; the captain said he always calculated\na Virginia mile to be double the length of ours. This church had been\nbuilt one hundred years before with brick brought from England. We\ncalled on six families. Said one woman, \"I tried hard to serve God\nforty years ago, but mighty idle; Massa's lash so sharp, 'peared like\nwe poor creturs never rest till we drop in our graves.\"\n\nWe visited Ex-Governor Henry A. Wise's plantation of five hundred\nacres, with fifty cabins in the negro quarters. This was confiscated.\nThere were many of his former slaves here, aged and helpless, and a\nsuccessful school was taught in his dwelling-house. Here were seventeen\nschools under the charge of the American Missionary Association, which\nwere taught by eleven lady teachers and six gentlemen. H. C. Perry was\nthe superintendent of schools in Norfolk District.\n\nThe Taylor plantation was the next which we visited. It contained\nseventeen thousand acres, seven hundred acres of which were worked, and\nready for renting to freedmen. In Captain Flagg's district there were\nthree thousand four hundred and eighty-six freed children attending\nday-school, and five hundred and one scholars in the night-schools. One\nhundred and ninety-two of these were over sixteen years of age. The\nabove included seven counties: Norfolk, Princess Ann, Nansemond, Isle\nof Wight, Southampton, Accomack, and Northampton, the last two on the\neastern shore of Chesapeake Bay. It is well to note the _income_ of\nthese confiscated plantations, that had, up to May 25, 1866, been\nreturned to original owners. There had been paid over by Captain Flagg\nto government toward liquidating the war debt, thirteen thousand\ndollars. All of this was the avails of negro help on the government\nfarms, except the Wise and Taylor plantations, that were still occupied\nfor the benefit of the aged, sick, blind, and crippled men, women, and\norphans.\n\nI returned to Washington, where I found a request that I should take\nfifteen colored orphans to our Home in Michigan.\n\nThe commissioners having charge of money sent here by all the Free\nStates, for sanitary purposes, proposed to place five hundred dollars\nin my hands for the two orphan asylums in Michigan, out of the nine\nhundred dollars that came from our State. This was to be equally\ndivided between Detroit Orphan Asylum and the one in Raisin Institute,\nknown at that time as Haviland Home. A majority of the commissioners\nobjected to its being placed in the hands of a woman, to select goods\nto be purchased at auction rates. Consequently, a young man was sent\nwith me to see that wise selections were made for the little homeless\nwaifs for whom the relief was designed. Being somewhat acquainted, with\nmy work, he said he was ashamed of the vote of the board, in\ndistrusting my ability to select goods for the little children of the\nasylums, when I had been at this work all my life, and constantly\nduring three years past. But I told him I was thankful to get the five\nhundred dollars, and could waive their notions of woman's inability\nvery comfortably. He assented to all the selections I made, and I\narranged to return home with the fifteen orphans and forty laborers,\nwho wished to go to Cleveland, Ohio, where their friends had gone for\nwork and reported to them favorably.\n\nI found in these people a strong attachment to their own color; hence\nthe unwillingness for a few to go a great distance without a prospect\nof others to follow. It was a heavy pressure of persecution that could\ndrive them from their old Southern homes to Washington for protection,\nand the heavy pressure of want staring them in the face that could\ninduce them to leave for Northern States to find work. Fifteen thousand\nwere then huddled in and about Washington. Hundreds could not get work\nat ten cents a day, besides rations. General O. O. Howard gave\ntransportation for many car-loads to go to the States of New York,\nPennsylvania, Ohio, and other free States. But the freedmen could not\nbe persuaded to go into the former slave States, after having left\nthem. General Howard said Northern humanitarians ought to have a share\nin this Christian enterprise of furnishing work for the able-bodied and\nassisting to care for these indigent children; and he urged me to bring\nas many as practicable.\n\nMrs. Ricks knew of fifteen who wished to follow their friends that had\ngone to Ohio, and said she would assist me in going through to Adrian,\nwhere Joseph McKenzie had spoken to me for eight or ten strong men for\nhis brickyard. If they had families he said he would help them in\nbuilding houses on his own land, and if both were suited he would\neventually sell lots to them.\n\nWhile calling on F. C. Beaman, member of Congress, and wife, I was\nurged to rest three or four days, at least, before leaving for home.\nBut I told them I must hasten home to rest. Transportation was secured\nfor fifty-five adults and fifteen orphans. Before we reached Altoona I\nfound rations had not been provided for adults, and that we must\npurchase at least seventy-five loaves of bread at that town. As the\ntrain halted a few minutes, I left for the bakery, but found that it\nhad been removed a block further. We went on a run, and secured the\nbread; and I sent the men running with it, so as to reach the cars\nbefore they should start. But I was left behind, with three young men\nwho refused to desert me. The men with the bread reached the cars just\nas they were beginning to move. Mrs. Ricks being with them, I was easy\nas to their condition. I found I had better keep as quiet as possible,\nas I was threatened with an attack of dysentery. But transportation,\nwith my official papers, had all gone on, and there was not a soul in\nAltoona that I ever knew. Yet I was not discouraged, but took the three\nyoung men with me to the railroad superintendent's office, and told the\nsuperintendent I had come on a queer errand, and told my short story.\n\"And now I solicit the favor of a pass for myself and these three young\nmen. But you do not know whether I have given you a truthful\nrepresentation, for I have not so much as a scratch of a pen with me to\nprove it.\"\n\nSaid he: \"You say your name is Laura S. Haviland. Did you not secure a\npass to Chicago and return, three years ago, of Mr. Campbell, at\nAdrian?\"\n\n\"I did,\" was my reply, \"as I was going South with sanitary supplies.\"\n\n\"I thought I had seen you before,\" he said. \"I was his chief clerk, and\nmade out those passes for you; and I will give you a pass, as you\nrequest. Would you like to telegraph to the lady assistant?\"\n\n\"I suppose,\" I said, \"she will stop over at Pittsburg until I overtake\nthem; but it would be a favor if their baggage could be properly\nrechecked at Pittsburg to stop over one train at Cleveland, as a\nportion of the adults are to stop there.\"\n\n\"I will telegraph the freight agent to take special care in rechecking\ntheir baggage, and request the operators to telegraph to railroad\nauthorities at Cleveland that this car-load of blacks in charge of Mrs.\nRicks are to wait over one train for you.\"\n\nI told him if that could be done without fail it would be a great\nfavor, as I was sick, and Mrs. Ricks would have time to send these\ncolored people up town to their friends. He telegraphed all these\ndirections, and also requested the ticket agent to meet me with the\npasses.\n\nWhile waiting for the train I was furnished with a sofa by the kind\nmatron who kept the ladies' waiting-room. I was met at the Pittsburg\ndepot with passes, and conducted to the waiting-room for a few moments,\nwhen the young man came to assist me on the right car. By this time my\nfever ran high, but higher still on reaching Cleveland, and finding\nthat all had gone on to Adrian. Here tickets to Adrian were waiting for\nme.\n\nI met brother J. Berry at Adrian depot, who informed me that all were\ncared for. I left all with the Lord and the good people of Adrian, who\nknew nothing of my trying experiences.\n\nMy children were urgent to send for the doctor at once. I insisted on\nmy water treatment, but promised to comply with their request if not\nmaterially better in twelve hours. A few days of rest and quiet\nrestored my health.\n\nAlthough Adrian was a little alarmed at this new experience of army\nstampedes, yet in due time places were found for all to work, and\neventually many of them became owners of their own homes.\n\nThe children of soldiers and other homeless waifs, needed attention,\nand I found more than a dozen in our Orphans' Home without a shirt for\na change. But sister Annie Berry donated forty yards of heavy sheeting,\nand within two weeks we had a hundred yards made up into substantial\ngarments for these little homeless ones. My health being still too poor\nfor hard work, I spent a few weeks with my son, Joseph B. Haviland, at\nAcme, Grand Traverse County.\n\nOn my return home, I found our commission had concluded to close the\nasylum work, and expend its means in supporting schools in the South.\nThey had sold the West Hall, and it had been removed to Tecumseh, and\nthey were about to sell the team and other property. I now stated the\nmotive I had when I gave the deed with a proviso, and said that\nremoving the building was a wrong step for our commission to take, in\nview of the proviso. I met the commission in Detroit, and laid before\nthem my object, and my desire to make it a State asylum, for the\nchildren of soldiers and all others who were in our county poor-houses,\nthat were mere nurseries for the prison. I had inquired of\nsuperintendents of penitentiaries, how many of the convicts had been\nleft orphans in childhood; and the average in Virginia, Maryland,\nPennsylvania, and our Michigan State Prison was more than\nthree-fourths. Emma A. Hall, matron of the female prisoners in the\nDetroit house of correction, informed me that every girl and woman\nunder her care had been left an orphan in childhood. In view of this\nrecord, and of there being a greater number of that class since the war\nthan ever before, I had felt the necessity for this asylum.\n\nGeorge Duffield, D. D., the president of our commission, replied: \"We\nknow not but this check is of the Lord, for we are finding it hard work\nto secure homes for the forty children now in the Home who are under\nten years of age.\" And he moved that a month be allowed me to make\nsatisfactory arrangements according to my design. While I was\nendeavoring to secure ten-dollar subscriptions to effect this result,\nJ. R. Shipherd, secretary, of the Western Division American Missionary\nAssociation, sent an agent to purchase the asylum and continue it in\nits present form. He stated the American Missionary Association could\nnot take it with the proviso, but would pay me two hundred and fifty\ndollars of the five hundred dollars I had agreed to deduct out of the\ntwo thousand dollars purchase money, if I should relinquish the\nproviso. I feared the result, thinking the enterprise might be only an\nexperiment, and might close at some future period, leaving these\nchildren a public burden. But J. R. Shipherd pledged his word that no\nchild of whom the American Missionary Association should take control\nshould become a public burden, and would further agree to expend on the\nbuilding and grounds, at least from three thousand to five thousand\ndollars within a year and a half or two years at longest.\n\nFrom the confidence I had in the association I yielded, though\nreluctantly. The agent desired me to take charge of the asylum as\nmatron, ten days or two weeks, as Mr. Shipherd could secure a matron\nfrom Vicksburg, Mississippi, in that time. I agreed to do this free of\ncharge. Mrs. Edgerton, whom se engaged as matron, arrived in four weeks.\n\nIt was now late in October, and my Winter cough began to trouble me.\nThis the Southern Winters had melted away during three Winters past,\nand I concluded to resign my agency in our State Freedmen's Aid\nCommission and work under the auspices of American Missionary\nAssociation of the middle division. I secured transportation from\nGeneral O. O. Howard to Atlanta, Georgia, and again left my dear ones\nat home for that field. I spent a few days with my dear friends, Levi\nand Catharine Coffin, at Cincinnati. As the secretary, brother Cravath,\nwas on an investigating tour in the South, Levi Coffin proposed that I\nshould go to work over the river, in Covington and Newport, Kentucky,\nas there were a few thousand freedmen congregated in those towns. He\nintroduced me to a lieutenant, in whose charge the freedmen's\ndepartment was left, who took me to a number of barracks, where the\nsick and suffering were occupying bunks with a bed sack that had, when\npossible, been filled with hay, leaves, or husks.\n\nOne poor woman had nothing in her sack, and that was all she had for\nher bed, aside from an old condemned blanket. She was suffering\nintensely with rheumatism. Her limbs and hands were all drawn out of\nshape, thus disabling her from dressing herself. I purchased some hay\nimmediately and had her moved so as to have her bed-sack filled, and\nthen furnished her with a warm quilt. I procured quantity of thick red\nflannel and made her a long-sleeved garment to reach over her feet, and\nmade it before I slept. The next morning I took it to her and saw it on\nher. The poor woman could say nothing for weeping, but after commanding\nher feelings, she said, \"This is more than I deserve. All the sufferin'\nI's had all the year is nothin' compared to the sufferin' of my Jesus\nfor poor me.\" The colored woman who had the care of her said she never\nhad seen such patience in all her life. The next day I took her another\nflannel garment, and relieved many others during the month I spent in\nthis field.\n\nOur lieutenant was an excellent man. One day he wished me to go with\nhim to see his old building that he had ordered fitted up for a school\nfor three hundred freed children in that part of his district. But he\nfound that nothing had been done. \"Upon my word,\" he exclaimed, \"not a\nstroke, not a stone, not a window. O, I can't stand this red tape; I\njust want to leave every other duty and pitch into this house. I know I\nam too impulsive, but that is the way of an Irishman. I have often\nthought Peter was an Irishman, he was so impulsive.\"\n\nI spent the greater portion of New-year's day, 1867, in calling upon\ntwelve families and taking to the sick and aged ones, blankets and\nclothing. I walked nearly a mile to the ferry, and called at the\nmission-rooms, where I found the secretary, E, M. Cravath, just\nreturned from his Southern tour. He thought my work was most needed in\nMemphis, Tennessee. I received from him my commission for that field. I\nmet in his office Rev. A. Scofield and daughter, just driven from Camp\nNelson, by returned secessionists. After a very busy New-year's day, I\nreturned to Levi Coffin's for the night, and the next day left for\nMemphis, which I reached on the 6th, spending two days in Cairo.\n\nIn the evening I attended a large colored church, and at the close of\nthe service introduced my work. The meeting, as usual, was very\ndemonstrative. The home assigned me was a Mission Home, with thirteen\nteachers, Joseph Barnum, formerly of Oberlin, Ohio, being\nsuperintendent. It was a rich treat to meet several who had been\nco-workers in the field of clashing arms and roar of cannonading. But\nfew can realize the strength of the tie that binds those who have\nlabored together in the lion's den. One of the teachers being sick, at\nthe request of the superintendent I temporarily took her place.\n\nOn my way to school, one morning, I was conducted to the place where\nlay twelve dead bodies till the third day after the terrible riot which\noccurred a few months previously. One of the bodies was half burned. I\nwas shown another corner of the streets where lay six bodies more at\nthe same time. O what horrible scenes were enacted then. My conductor\npointed to a charred spot of earth where had stood a cabin in which lay\na very sick woman, whose daughter of sixteen years stood in the door\npleading with the infuriated mob not to burn their house for her mother\nwas near dying, and it was impossible for her to carry her out. One\nfiend caught her up on his bayonet and tossed her into the midst of the\nflames of an adjoining cabin. In a moment her screams of agony were\nhushed by the crackling flames. Fire was then thrown into the dying\nwoman's cabin, and both mother and daughter perished. Their charred\nbodies were taken out by their friends and buried with others\nslaughtered in the riot of May, 1866. In that riot there were forty-six\nnegroes killed, seventy-five wounded, five rapes were committed, ten\npersons maltreated, and one hundred robbed, and ninety-one houses and\ncabins burned, besides four churches and twelve school-houses reduced\nto ashes. These facts were given me by white witnesses as well as\ncolored, and they probably may be found in General Kiddoo's military\nrecord, as he was one of the officers with armed soldiers who quelled\nthe terrible riot. I was soon relieved of school duty, and as I\nreceived a few boxes of goods, a portion of which were from England, I\nfound constant employment in the ever-varying mission work.\n\nThe grandmother of a little girl who had died a few days before was\nvery sick and in great distress of mind when I entered her cabin, she\nsaid imploringly, \"O missus, do pray for poor me. Can God forgive sich\nan ole sinner as me? Can I fin' Jesus so quick as poor Mary Jane did\nafore she died? I knows she went so happy; I prayed all night, but\n'pears like so dark; don't see de place o' de candle.\" I read to her of\nthe readiness of Jesus to forgive, and how he forgave the thief on the\ncross, because he repented and looked to Jesus in faith even in his\nlast moments. As I knelt by her cot I implored unbounded mercy in the\nSpirit's teaching this precious soul the way to enter in through the\ndoor. I left her more calm. She lingered a few days, but her mind\nbecame clear from the shadow of a cloud. She died in the triumphs of\nfaith, leaving, she said, her little lambs with the dear Shepherd, \"Dat\nhunted de lost sheep an' foun' her 'mid de wolves, dat scratch her\nmightily.\" The children were taken to the orphanage.\n\nWhile pursuing this work our lives were daily threatened, and some had\nfears of another riot. One Union woman on our block told me that she\nhad often spent sleepless nights on our account. She had heard such\nfrequent threats that \"Nigger teachers should be cleared out, as well\nas free niggers,\" that she expected every day would be our last, and\nevery pistol shot she heard in the night, or the alarm of fire, she\nlistened and looked in the direction of our Mission House. But I told\nher I did not believe we should have another riot; I believed the God\nof Daniel was able and willing to protect us, and that in him was my\nconfidence.\n\n\"But you don't know these people as I do,\" she said, \"for I have always\nlived here. I have sometimes thought I would not tell you. And then I\nmade up my mind that I would, so you could be more on your guard;\nbecause they threatened, just as they do now, before that awful riot a\nfew months ago.\"\n\nThe teachers who were my room-mates said they had heard of the same\nthreats, but there were soldiers near at hand now, and when the riot\nbroke out there were so few here they had to be called from other\npoints to quell it.\n\nOn April 13th I visited the sick and relieved eight families. Then I\nwent over old Fort Pickering and through the freedmen's hospital,\ncontaining one hundred and eighty-eight inmates, four of them cripples,\nand fifteen very old. Of one I inquired how old she was:\n\n\"I's goin' on two hundred,\" she answered. \"Massa's book say I's one\nhundred and eight, an' dat is eight years for another hundred, ain't\nit? Dey name me Esther Jane. I was sole at sheriff's sale for debt to\nMassa Sparks. In de ole war Massa George Washington was a mighty kind\nman. He boarded wid Massa Sparks four or five weeks. He wore short\nbreeches an' knee-buckles an' a cocked hat I kep' his room clar'd up.\"\n\nShe was not as blind as a number who were much younger. But her skin\nwas full of fine as well as deep wrinkles, and of an ashen hue. I gave\na little sugar and some crackers to many of them.\n\nI returned to find a colored man who had been directed to me. He had\nmade his escape the night before from his old master, who seemed to\nhave no more idea of his leaving him than if there had been no\nproclamation of freedom. His wife had been sick a long time, and he\nstayed to take care of her till she died, then he watched an\nopportunity to bring his two little children with him. But his master\nhe supposed was also watching, for he soon overtook him with help and\ntook his children away from him, and his bundle of clothes that he was\ngoing to put on when he got far enough from the house to feel safe with\nhis children. He said it was his best suit. The shirt and drawers he\nhad on were good, and they constituted his entire wardrobe. I laid out\na number of garments, and told him to go into the store-room and select\na whole suit that would best fit him. The next thing to be done was to\naccompany him to Colonel Palmer's office, where he told his own pitiful\nstory, and the colonel asked him if he could take care of his children\nif he got them.\n\n\"If you'll be so good as to help me get them, these hands,\" (holding\nthem out toward the colonel) \"shall take as good care of them as they\ndo of me,\" and his eyes filled with tears. I left him with the colonel,\nwho told him he would send with him an escort of soldiers the next\nmorning, \"and the master will not dare refuse to give up the children\non reading the note I shall send him.\"\n\nA little excitement existed over the murder of Mr. Errickson, a Union\nman, who fled to Memphis with his family for safety during the war. A\nfew weeks before the present time, he returned to his home in\nSummerville. He had been home but a few days before he was shot dead in\nfront of a store. His poor wife and two daughters were almost insane\nover his untimely death. He thought the country was becoming more\nquiet, and he could risk going quietly to their home. There was a very\nsmart colored woman in town who witnessed his murder. She was at\nMemphis ostensibly to do a little trading; but her errand was to\ninquire of the real friends of the colored people which man they had\nbetter vote for--Parson Brownlow or the conservative candidate--for\ngovernor. The men did not dare to come, for fear they would be\nmistrusted; and she came to learn from Union men their choice for\ngovernor, to take back word, and report at Summerville.\n\nI was one day passing the old barracks of soldiers, then occupied by\nfreedmen. I heard distressing groans, and called to see whence they\ncame. I found an old man of ninety-seven years, called \"Uncle Philip,\"\nin great bodily distress. \"How long have you been suffering like this?\"\nI inquired.\n\n\"Only two years,\" he said.\n\n\"Two years must seem a great while.\"\n\n\"O no, it's only a little minute, compared with eternity of rest in\nglorious mansions Jesus went to prepare for me; for I knows I's got a\nhome thar', missus, I knows it, 'case I's seen it, an' I feels it.\"\n\n\"How long have you felt this evidence?\"\n\n\"I seen it cl'ar as sunshine when I was ten year ole. My massa was a\nmighty wicked, swearin', cruel man. An' his overseer was a mighty big\nwicked black man; his name was Munday. An' all the seventy-five grown\nhan's on the plantation was mighty wicked too. I hear so much swearin'\nI had a bad ide' of God and Jesus; I reckon'd they's some great men,\nthat sent people to a mighty bad place. One day a Methodis' minister\nstop to Massa Malachi's for dinner. When he lef' massa call me to bring\nhis hoss to 'im. An' de preacher put his han' on my head an' say,\n'Philip is a smart little boy. An' if you'll ask God to make you good\nhe'll do it. Then when you die you'll go to that great, beautiful city\nup yonder, where it's all light and beautiful. Here little Philip has\nto go 'round among stubs and stones, barefoot; there he'll walk the\ngolden streets in silver slippers. Here he wears his slip; there he'll\nbe dressed in a beautiful white robe. Here he goes bareheaded; there\nhe'll wear a beautiful crown, all glittering with stars. Wouldn't you\nlike to go to such a beautiful city as that when you die?' 'Yes, sir,'\nI say. 'Well, ask God to make you good, and that will be your home; for\nJesus loves little children.' An' he jump'd on his hoss and rode away,\nwhile I stood thar, wonderin' what sort of a man that could be, that\nknew so much 'bout God and heaven. Now I must fin' God, to ask 'im to\nmake me good; an' f'om this man's 'scription, he must be settin' on\nsome cloud. Day and night I watch for 'im; an' when I looked upon the\nstars I wondered if these sparklin' stars was what God put in de crowns\nhe put on de heads of all good people an' good chillen.\n\n\"One day Aunt Milla, the cook, sent me to pick up an armful of wood for\nher. While I stood lookin' up to de clouds, huntin' for God, I hear a\nsweet soft voice say, 'Chile, pray.' I look all 'mong de tree-tops, to\nsee who's thar, an' it say, 'Chile, pray,' again. An' I was sure\nsomebody up in de tree-tops, an' I got scared, an' drop my armful of\nwood, an' run to Aunt Milla, all out o' bref. 'What ails you, Phil?\nWhat's the matter?' she said. 'Somebody's in de tree-tops, an' say,\n\"Chile, pray.\"' 'Hush, chile,' Aunt Milla said, 'dat's God talkin to\nyou.' 'No 't ain't. I's been huntin' for God a good many days, an'\ncan't fin' im.' 'Honey, you can't see God wid de eyes you sees Aunt\nMilla. God is a great good spirit dat knows all 'bout what you want,\nan' what you're thinkin' 'bout. I wish I was a Christian, but I ain't.\nI's hearn Christians talk, an' I knows dat God's talkin' to you, honey.\nNow, you go by yourse'f, alone like, an' ask God to make you good, as\nyou say you want to, an' he'll do it, sure.'\n\n\"Here was a new thought, dat I could fin' God, an' not see 'im. But I\ndid as Aunt Milla tole me. It 'peared like I must fin' God. My heart\nached like, all thro' me, I's so anxious. Only a few days after I was\ntotin' an armful o' plates to the dinin'-room for Aunt Milla. All at\nonce I's so happy I didn't know myse'f. I drop my plates, an' broke I\ndon't know how many. But I didn't stop for plates; I shouted, 'Bless\nMassa Jesus! Glory! Glory hallelujah to God! I 'a foun' 'im; I knows\nit's God.' I got hold of my papa and mamma, an' tole 'em to ask God to\nmake 'em good, an' he'd do it; an' took hold of my little mate July,\n'bout my age, an' tole 'im he mus' pray, an' I'd pray for 'im. In a few\ndays he got 'ligion too. An' two young white ladies, Massa Malachi's\nnieces, lived thar', an' learned us to sing the sweet hymn:\n\n  \"'My Savior, my Almighty Friend,\n      When I begin thy praise,\n    Where shall the growing numbers end,\n      The numbers of thy grace?'\n\nAn' I tole July we'd have prayer-meetin's in our cabin of nights, an'\nde ole folks gathered 'round us, an' our cabin was full. Massa Malachi\nMurphy was angry 'bout it; sometimes he'd scold, sometimes make fun o'\nme, an' call me de 'big preacher, Howlin' Phil.' But as all dat didn't\nput me down, he call me to 'im an' say, 'You shall stop this prayin'\nan' singin' in your cabin, or I'll whip you to death,' an' he swore I\nwas ruinin' his plantation. My papa an' mamma tried to get me to stop.\nThey said, 'You know Massa Malachi will do jus' as he say.' 'O no, I\ncan't stop prayin' to Jesus, he's so good to poor me. I can't stop\nprayin', I said. But we did stop our prayer-meetin's in our cabin, but\nwe had our night meetin's in a deep ravine over a quarter of a mile\naway. Forty or fifty of our fellow slaves would, meet us thar to hear\nus pray an' sing. At las' massa set de overseer, Munday, to watch us,\nan' he found us out. He ordered Munday to bring July an' me to 'im\nafore sun up. When we come in sight of de yard we seen two ropes\nhangin' to a big tree limb, an' I stop an' look to July, an' to de\nwoods, wid a half a min' to run. But July says, 'We knows we can't stop\nprayin', an' we knows what we'll take jus' as well firs' as las'.' Then\nI was 'shamed to think I was firs' in de cause, an' July stronger'n me.\nAn' we went through de gate an' stood afore massa, settin' in de back\ndoor in his night shirt. He began to swear we was ruinin' his whole\nplantation, an' now he was goin' to have us whipped to death. 'Now you\nsee you've got to die or stop prayin'; will you stop this d----d\nprayin'?' 'O massa, do please let me pray to God, do please.' 'Strip\noff your slip, tie 'im up thar, Mun, an' give 'im a full round.' It was\ndone accordin' to order; twenty lashes with the bull whip, an' twenty\nstrokes with the paddle. Turning to July, he said, 'Will you stop\nprayin' or die?' 'Massa, do please let me pray to God,' said July. With\nan oath, he was bidden to take off his slip, an' tied to the other rope\nwith a rail at the lower end, nearly touching the ground. The paddle\nwas an inch board four inches wide, three or four feet long, whittled\nat one end for the handle, having six or eight inches bored full of\nholes, each hole drawing a blister at every stroke. The full round was\ngiven to July as ordered, twenty lashes with the bull whip and twenty\nstrokes with the paddle. With an oath he turned again to me, 'Now, have\nyou got enough to stop your praying or will the devil die?' 'O massa,\ndo please let me pray to God, he is so good,' I answered. 'Mun, give\n'im another full round,' and twenty lashes with the whip, and twenty\nstrokes with the paddle was again given. Again he queried July, who\ngave the same reply as before, and the full round was ordered and given\nagain. Then he ordered him to be cut down, swearing that he would whip\nhim to death the next time he heard of his praying. But he swore he'd\nhave the little devil, Phil, whipped to death now, as he was first in\nthis 'devilish' praying. As I expected to die, I prayed all through\nthis terrible ordeal that Jesus would come near to help me endure it,\nin his name.\n\n\"I felt him like he was by my side,\" continued Uncle Philip, as the\ntears dropped thick and fast, often stopping a moment to find\nutterance. \"Massa bid July go home an' behave, an' he order' de\noverseer to give me another round unless I'd promise to stop prayin'.\nBut it 'peared like I felt stronger in de Lo'd, an' I give de same\nanswer, and I can't tell how long I was whipped an' paddled, for when I\ncum to, I was cut down, and layin' in de blood on de groun'--I fainted\naway. Massa was lookin' at me thar in his night shirt; I see him as\ncl'ar as if't was done yesterday. He swore I should never cum in his\nsight again, or cum inside dat gate, pointing to it. I prayed in my\nheart for God to give me strength to git up and walk to de quarters,\nfor the pain an' loss of blood made me so weak an' faint. But de good\nLo'd was thar, an' I presently got strong enough to get up an' took my\nslip in han', an' staggered out dat yard, and cum up to July. He stop\non de way to see if I was 'live. When we pass de quarters all along, de\nold men an' women stood at their doors cryin'.\n\nWhen we got out o' sight of de great house, one ole man an' 'oman\ncalled us to 'em an' oiled our backs. Da said we was all cut up to a\njelly, an' put soft cloth over de gashes. Our people tried harder'n\never to stop our prayin' an' singin', caze Massa Malachi sure to kill\nus.\n\n\"A few days after massa sent for me, an' I 'spected he'd finish me dis\ntime sure. But I felt Jesus was close by me; I was weak in de body, but\nstrong in de Lo'd. I obeyed, as I stood all trimbly afore 'im. 'Well,\nhowlin' preacher, if you are boun' to preach you shall preach,' an' he\nswore I should have enough of it. 'Next Sunday, at eleven o'clock you\nshall preach; I'm going to invite all the white folks an' black people\n'round here to cum to hear de big preacher. I'm going to have a pulpit\nbuilt under that big tree' (pointing to one in the yard two rods from\nthe one the ropes were tied to when we was whipped). 'Now we'll have a\nbig meetin' to hear de big preacher. You understan', do you?' 'Yes,\nmassa,' I say, an' he sent me away. I tol' July what massa said. 'Now\nwe mus' pray to God to sen' a minister, an' pray God to soften massa's\nheart, to let 'im preach, for you knows Massa Malachi mil do jus' as he\nsays he will, an' God will answer our prayer.' At nights I went to one\nplantation an' July went to another, an' we tried to git some Christian\nman or some Christian woman to promise to preach if massa would\nconsent. But not one would promise. They all knew it was just for\nsport. Sunday morning came with a great parade of hauling boards, an' a\npulpit was built.\"\n\nUncle Philip said it looked more terrifying to him than would a gallows\nif built for his own hanging. People gathered from all directions, both\nwhite and colored, and filled the whole yard. The hour of eleven\nbrought the master to the door in his arm-chair, with his family Bible\nin his lap. Taking his watch from his pockets, he called out, \"Come on,\nmy big preacher.\"\n\n\"I obeyed the command,\" said Uncle Philip, \"as I stood afore 'im. 'Now\nwe are to hear this howling preacher,' he said, sneeringly, 'ad you\ncan't preach without the Bible, an' I'll hold it wide open, an' you\nmust look right at me when you preach. The time is up; go to your\npulpit.' I asked July if he would go up with me and help me sing--\n\n\"'My Savior, my Almighty Friend'\n\nNodding an assent, we went on. It 'peared like I was too weak to go up\nfour or five steps. I trimbled an' sweat all over. But once I was up my\nstrength cum to me, and we sung so loud de people say da hear ev'ry\nword all over dat great yard. By de time we got to de las' line of\nthird verse de people was cryin' for mercy an' down on dair knees\ncrying, 'Lo'd, what shall I do to be saved? 'Lo'd have mercy on me, a\nsinner!' 'Be merciful to poor me, or I'm lost.' These cries we hear'n\nfrom every side. I never felt happier or bolder in my life, while tears\nof joy ran down as I faced my ole massa. He slam de door shut, an' da\nsaid he jumped between two feather-beds to keep from hearin' de cries\nof de people. I tell you, honey, de Lo'd made dat hymn my sin-killer on\ndat blessed day, long, long to be 'membered.\"\n\n\"And did you preach?\" I asked.\n\n\"Preach, chile; de Lo'd did all de preachin' dat day. We finish' de\nhymn, an' we went down an' talked an' prayed wid de seekers, an' we\nstaid dar all night, an' afore next mornin' twenty-three was converted\nan' praisin' God. Massa call for me, an' I 'spected my time cum now\nanyhow. But I was ready for death or life. I went without fear of any\nthing. He looked at me as mile as a lamb, an' said, 'Phil, my boy, you\nmay preach, pray, or sing as much as you please, an' go where you\nplease, an' you shall never be hit another lick as long as I live.' I\nbowed low an' said, 'Thanky, Massa Malachi; God bless you, massa.' I\npraised God as I turned away from, him who had caused me so much\nsufferin'.\n\n\"But God turned it into a great blessin'. He dismissed his overseer,\nan' never 'lowed one of his slaves to be punish' after that great day.\nIn one year seventy-three on dat plantation was converted. Two nieces\nof massa's was 'mong 'em, besides a few other white folks. But Massa\nMalachi tried to git 'em to give up 'ligion, an' sent 'em to dancin'\nfrolics. An' da come to me for advice as if I was deir brover. I tole\nem Massa Malachi took keer of 'em, 'caze day was orphans, an' de sin\nwould res' on de uncle dat make 'em go agin deir will, and not on dem.\nTwo years after one of 'em got married an' moved thirty miles away, an'\nshe got leave of massa to let me go an' stay a week or two at a time.\nAt las', poor gal, she died of consumption, and sent for me a month\nafore she died to stay wid her, an' she often asked me to pray wid her.\nO how happy she died, in full faith in de 'ligion she foun' on de\nblessed day massa compel me to preach, little thinkin' he was 'pointin'\na meetin' for de Lo'd of hosts instead of little Phil. But my people on\nother plantations often sent for me to preach, but I never call it\npreachin', only 'ligious talks. Da would have me help organize Churches\nall 'roun' thar. In four years we organized seven Churches an' the\ncause prospered.\n\n\"At las' so many persecutions an' sufferin' was goin' on I got\ndisheartened. I began to question whether it wan't me causin' all dis\nsufferin', an' I stop goin' to prayer-meetin' four months, an' de\nministers an' Christian men an' Christian women come to see me an' say,\n'Brodder Philip, why don't you come to meetin', as you use' to?' I tole\n'em, 'caze I didn't feel like it. Said one man, 'I's feared de devil's\ngot hold of you.' I tole 'im I 'spected he'd had hold o' me a long\nwhile, for I felt bad enough to be his work. I tole 'im Massa Malachi\nmade me preach, an' God didn't have nothin' to do wid it, for he knew\nmassa was a wicked man.\"\n\nThese doubts and fears seemed to follow Uncle Philip day and night,\nuntil, as, he said, his distress was great. Then, he fell into an\ninsensible, lifeless state, in which he lay fourteen days. Said he:\n\n\"My mother dressed me for de grave; but as my limbs did not stiffen,\nMada Malachi sent for a doctor who placed a glass before my face, an'\nmoisture gathered on it. He tole 'em it was not entirely cole over de\nheart, an' da mus'n't bury me until decomposition took place, cuze it\nmight be a trance. An' da kep' me in de kitchen wid Aunt Milla, de\ncook, to watch me. It 'peared like I's goin' down into a horrible place\nof awful soun's an' rattlin' of chains; an' I prayed mightily for help,\nan' Jesus reached down an' took my han' an' lifted me up to a glorious\npalace so beautiful, an' every thing was light. Steps seemed built out\nof light, somehow made into sub'sance, I can't 'escribe it. My guide\ntole me I was wrong to doubt, when God had been so good to me in all my\nhard trials. He showed me de windows dat let light down to dis earth,\nan' to de churches I helpt organize. It seemed like bein' led from\nplace to place into a mighty big country. When I seen 'em all dress' in\npure white robes an' singin' such splendid music, I look at myself and\nsee how filthy an' ragged I look; I say to my guide, 'I can never go in\ndat company.' 'Yes you can when Jesus wash you in his blood. All you\nsee was as filthy an' ragged as you. But da is made clean.' An' we\ncrossed over a line like, an' firs' I know I's in de pure white robe\ntoo, an' singin' wid all dat great company. O I can't 'escribe, how\nhappy I felt in rangin' wid my guide de fields of light an' sich\nglorious visions. At las' he said, 'You mus' go back to earth an' teach\nyour people de way to dis glorious home, dat is your home if you be\nfaithful in readin' dis book.' I said, 'I am a slave back thar, an'\ncan't read.' 'But this book you can read,' an' he laid de open book on\nmy outstretched lef' arm; de tip of de golden leaves reach the tip of\nmy fingers, an' the other tip of the leaves touch my head. He took me\ntwo or three little steps, an' I thought I was back to earth, an' I ask\nAunt Milla for a drink as I was so thirsty. And she said de bucket of\nwater was on de bench, an' my little cup by it.\n\n\"When I cum to myse'f I was standin' by de bucket drinkin' out o' my\ncup. But nobody was in de house but Mina, a little gal 'bout eight year\nole, massa bought out of a drove was passin' by de kitchen door, and\nrun to the fiel' shoutin' all de way 'Phil's alive! Phil's alive!' An'\nall de han's on de plantation cum runnin' to de house, an' my mother\ncaught me firs', 'Praise God, my chile's alive.' De firs' I said, 'I's\nbeen wrong to doubt God, I never, never will doubt him any more.' I\nnever can, for I's had a glimpse of hell, and have been in dat\nbeautiful world of light.\"\n\nI have given Uncle Philip's narrative in his own language as I took it\ndown in my note-book at the time of my interviews with him. His was\nindeed a green old age; his mind remarkably clear, and his memory\nretentive. From time to time, as I read a chapter or a psalm, he often\nreferred to certain passages that he had dwelt upon since I had left\nhim. In relating his history be often shed tears; at one time with his\nelbows resting upon his knees, and face buried in the calico 'kerchief\nuntil it was wet. At another time he was just raising himself up from\nthe kneeling position--when I came in. \"I's jus' bin prayin' for you,\"\nhe said. \"I did't know as you's so near, but I felt your spirit. It\nsort o' lifs me up to talk wid you. I prayed dat de good seed you's\nsowin' 'mong our people may lodge in good groun' an' bring a hundred\nfol'. De men you talked to on de bridge 'bout swearin' never'll forgit\nyour words. You's doin' more for our poor, ignorant people dan you\nknows on.\"\n\nHe lived about a year after I left Memphis, Tennessee. I sent him\noccasionally two or three dollars, through Superintendent Barnum or his\nwife, who often called to see his wants supplied. The last words he\nuttered were a few lines of one of his favorite hymns, \"Give me wings,\"\nand his happy spirit took its flight; having faithfully read the book\nhe said he had always kept in his heart. I was often forcibly impressed\nwhile conversing with that aged saint. How manifest is the power of our\nWonderful, in his dealing with his followers, just according to their\nneeds. That poor ignorant man could not read the written Word, but God\ntook his own way to lead and instruct him, to fit him for an instrument\nin his hand of turning many souls to the knowledge of the truth as it\nis in Jesus.\n\nOn May 11, 1867, I took the cars for home. Having instructions from the\nAmerican Missionary Association and transportation, I took fifteen\nhomeless orphans to our asylum in my former school, Raisin Institute. I\nleft this field of arduous toiling, often passing the former residence\nof John P. and Thomas K. Chester, who had so often threatened my life.\nBoth closed their earthly career by untimely deaths. I reached home on\nthe 14th, praising the God of Daniel for his keeping power in the\nlion's den.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI.\n\n\"STATE PUBLIC SCHOOL.\"\n\n\nAfter my return my health gave way, as did also that of our worthy\nagent, Catherine Taylor. She endured great suffering from inflammation\nof the sciatic nerve, and was entirely disabled from labor for months.\nLate in the Autumn our supplies ran very low, and our self-sacrificing\npresident was also in poor health. She, with a few other members of the\nboard, visited the asylum, and found nothing on hand but corn-meal and\nturnips, which, with a little milk that was made into a gravy, was all\nthere was to keep the children from starving. Our president ran in debt\ntwenty-six dollars at the mill and grocery; but on Thanksgiving-day a\ncollection of sixty-six dollars was taken for the asylum. This\nliquidated the debt, and furnished the necessary food for the time\nbeing. But Winter was approaching, and the failing health of the\nworkers seemed to forebode the necessity of closing our asylum work.\n\nMrs. Catherine Rice corresponded with friends of the work in Grand\nRapids, asking them to unite with us in a petition to the State\nLegislature to establish a State manual labor school in Grand Rapids,\nas the friends in that city were arranging for a local orphan asylum.\nThe subject was discussed in the board, but a small majority voted\nagainst uniting their local interests with the State work. During this\ntime, all new material sent in for clothing was exchanged for food, and\nJane A. Smith and our faithful teacher applied to a few friends and\nreceived temporary aid. On December 15, 1870, we found the provisions\ntoo short to last for two weeks. The question came up, What shall be\ndone for the twenty children for whom no homes are provided? Under the\ncircumstances, there seemed no alternative but to return the children\nto their respective county infirmaries. When this decision was reached\nby the board of managers, and made known to the matron and teacher, on\nthe evening of their week-day prayer-meeting, the matron informed the\nchildren of it. Eleven of them had made a profession of religion, and\nhad given evidence of having found Him who said, \"Suffer little\nchildren to come unto me, and forbid them not\" Each of these offered\nearnest prayer for God to help them live so faithfully that he would\nmake friends for them, to bring them something to eat, \"so we won't\nhave to go back to the county poor-house.\"\n\nAll this time my children and friends had not allowed me to know the\ncondition of the asylum. Our firm friend, Rebecca Bennett, and our\npresident called on my physician to ask permission to see me for advice\nas to whom they could write for aid. He replied, \"With your calm and\njudicious manner, I can risk you.\" But they came far short of making a\nfull revelation of the true state of things. I advised them to write\nthe superintendent of the Congregationalist Sabbath-school at, Franklin\nCenter, and to the pastor of the Methodist Episcopal Church in\nTecumseh. They proposed that I should dictate to my daughter what to\nwrite. This was done, and my appeal was read in their respective\ncongregations. Within a week two sleigh-loads, containing grain, flour,\nmeal, and beef, and a whole dressed sheep, came from those places. The\ndrivers rolled in barrel after barrel from each of the sleighs, and\nsaid they would bring more before this was gone. One little boy of\neleven years said:\n\n\"Mrs. Smith, don't you think God sent all this 'cause we prayed so hard\nthe other night?\"\n\n\"My child,\" she answered, \"the Lord has heard our prayers, and has\nanswered; and, although it is snowing hard, yet you must hurry, and\nhitch Jack to the buggy as quick as possible, so that we can let Mrs.\nHaviland know this; for I have been afraid she has been worse since she\nlearned we were so nearly out.\"\n\nSoon she came into my room with the glad tidings: \"Do not take another\nanxious thought over our asylum. We had more supplies come to us to-day\nthan we have had for two months--two heavy sleigh-loads.\" We clasped\neach others' hands and wept for joy, and praised God, from whom all\nblessings flow.\n\nThis news revived the spirits of those whose hands were hanging down,\nand gave them courage to reappoint officers. Rev. Dr. Asa Mahan's wife\nserved as president, with other officers, duly elected. A petition to\nthe Legislature was drafted and industriously circulated, and printed\ncopies were sent to a number of the superintendents of counties who had\nfavored our project. Though the Legislature was in session, and there\nwas not time to circulate it as extensively as desirable, yet Dr. Mahan\nand others thought it might succeed, although there were heavy drafts\nupon our Legislature of 1870-71. The State Prison was to be enlarged,\nthe Insane Asylum to be improved, and additions to Ann Arbor University\nmade, while there were still other calls for appropriations. All these\nmade the success of our scheme look doubtful to many. All I could do\nwas to continue in prayer that senators and representatives might feel\nthe importance of looking after the pressing wants of our future men\nand women, soon to fill our vacated places. I found many children in\nthe county poor-house through the debauchery of their fathers, and\noccasionally mothers.\n\nThe improvement, both in conduct and in morals, of the neglected little\nwaifs whom we had gathered into our asylum, urged us on in our work;\nfor we realized that our experiment was a success. Our friends were\nthus encouraged to press forward with the petition.\n\nDr. Mahan and his wife, our president, went before the Legislature with\nthe view of pressing our claims. Members of the Senate and House\nproposed to grant Dr. Mahan one evening in representing the project,\nand left it in the hands of the Committee on Petitions. Senator\nRandall, of Coldwater, put it in the form of a bill that covered the\nspirit and requests of the petition. Being chairman of the Committee on\nBills, he presented it in the Senate. It was passed in that body, to\nour great joy, and soon after was passed in the House, and received the\ngovernor's signature, making it a law.\n\nThough only thirty thousand dollars were appropriated by the\nLegislature with which to commence operations, yet I knew the State\nwould carry on the work hereafter. The site for the new asylum was to\nbe selected at whatever desirable locality offered the most liberal\ndonations. As Coldwater offered thirty thousand dollars toward the new\nenterprise, it was located in that city. While the buildings for the\nState school were being erected, our asylum was moved into the city of\nAdrian, as at that point it was more convenient for the sisters\ncomposing the board of managers to care for it. When the \"State Public\nSchool\" should be opened, all in our asylum not provided with homes\nwere to be transferred to it.\n\nMy health improved sufficiently to enable me to make a few appeals to\nbring up arrears in our work. The matron and myself had received but\nvery little, as all went to the support of the children. I cared but\nlittle for myself; but for sister Smith, who had been such a faithful,\nmother to these poor children, I was more anxious. At length I secured\npermission of my tender care-takers--my two daughters--to go among my\nfriends in Detroit. To most of them I appealed by letter, and made but\none personal call. That was more particularly in the interest of a\nprisoner for whom I solicited a pardon. This was at length granted.\nGovernor Baldwin had known of my asylum work, and inquired after its\ninterests. He gave me twenty dollars towards it. Mr. Crapo's son gave\nme twenty-five dollars, and Captain E. B. Ward fifty dollars. Others\nresponded to my letters, and I obtained over two hundred dollars.\n\nThe great fires in Chicago and Northern Michigan stopped farther work\nof this character; but we did what we could toward canceling\narrearages, being confident that were it not for the continued and\nfaithful toiling of Jane A. Smith the asylum would have died during my\nlong and serious illness. It must have died, even after its removal to\nAdrian, had it not been for a faithful few.\n\nA few months after the State Public School was opened at Coldwater, in\ncharge of Professor Truesdell, superintendent, and Miss Emma A. Hall,\nmatron. I went into the school as seamstress and nurse, and remained\nthere nearly two years. Instead of overhauling, cutting, and making\nover second-hand clothes for the three hundred little homeless waifs we\nhad cared for in our orphans' home, we were now well supplied with\nbolts of substantial new material, out of which we made comfortable\nbedding and clothing. Here we had no care about furnishing, and no\nanxious fear for their support. With pleasure we saw the vast contrast\nin conveniences and supplies compared with our little rill in which we\nso long paddled our own canoe, and in which faithful laborers were\nstill at work. It matters not by whom this great work was accomplished;\nit matters not by what agencies our prayer of more than four years\nlong, previous to the adopting of this work by the State, was answered.\nThrough an overruling power clouds and icebergs vanished, and in lieu\nthereof the massive brick buildings of the State Public School in\nColdwater were raised, instead of the old Raisin Institute, where it\ndrew its first breath.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII.\n\nCHRISTIAN LABOR AND RESULTS.\n\n\nIt seemed refreshing to meet with sympathizing friends after toiling\nfor months among false brethren. It was a relief to enjoy a few days of\nfreedom from care. After asking a few friends to sign an article of\nagreement to pay one dollar a year during five years for the orphan\nasylum, and mailing a couple of letters to Levi Coffin and Rev. E. M.\nCravath, of Cincinnati, I took from the office a drop-letter from Mr.\nBurton Kent, County Superintendent of the Poor, containing the\nfollowing notice:\n\n\"MRS. LAURA S. HAVILAND,--Many persons transported by you last year\nhave become a county charge, and it has become an intolerable burden to\nthe tax-payers. Any person bringing a child or indigent person into\nthis county without being legally indentured, shall be prosecuted to\nthe full extent of the law.\"\n\nWithin five minutes after reading the above notice I was on my way to\nour County Poor-house, three miles from town. To my surprise I found\nthat no colored child had been there, and of the fifty-one inmates but\nthree were colored, and only one man (Mr. Morris Brown) who came with\nme the previous Summer had been received. He was discharged in a short\ntime. A stay at the infirmary for two months and a half was a _burden_,\nbut was it \"intolerable to the tax-payers\" of our county?\n\nI felt that I must search diligently to discover all the facts. I\ncalled on Mr. Helms, who said there was widow with four or five\nchildren that was sick a couple of weeks, and he had supplied her with\na load of wood and groceries. I asked for the cost, but as it was not\nconvenient for him to give the figures then, he said he would furnish\nthem the following Tuesday. Mr. Young had told him that he had buried a\nfamily. I called to learn what family it was in his ward. He gave the\nname of the man who died after a short illness, and to whom he had\ntaken a load of wood, a small sack of flour, and some other groceries.\nI inquired if he had taken these things to them more than once. He said\nhe had not, as his wife was all there was to look after, and she took\ncare of herself after her husband's death. He gave me the\nexpenses--eight dollars and ninety-six cents. I called on Mr. Helms at\nthree appointed times, and failed to get his precise figures, but,\nplacing them at highest rates, from all I could gather it could not\nhave been more than thirty-five dollars. I wrote an article for the\nAdrian _Times_, in which I stated the figures, and informed the\ncitizens and tax-payers of Lenawee County that this orphan asylum was\nunder the auspices of the American Missionary Association, which was\nresponsible for its support. I solicited some mathematician to give us\nthe fraction of a mill to each taxpayer as his share of this\n\"intolerable burden upon the tax-payers.\"\n\nOur county superintendents of the poor, Burton Kent and Alice Warren,\nthe officials from whom I received the notice, were surprised to learn\nthat the American Missionary Association was the responsible party. But\nall these threats sprang from prejudiced parties, and clearly indicated\nthe necessity of a few strokes of the reconstruction brush north of\nMason and Dixon's line, as well as south of it, to obliterate the\ncolor-line. Friends here and there paid me a dollar on their pledge of\na dollar a year, and our colored friends in the city of Adrian--Sarah\nLewis, with her brothers and Mr. Wilson, managers of a\nfestival--realized thirty-two dollars and sixty-one cents, cash, and\nfifty pounds of meat, beans, fruit and clothing, valued at fifty\ndollars.\n\nJuly the Fourth was a merry day for the forty little folks at the\nasylum. At dark fire-crackers, torpedoes and sky-rockets flew in every\ndirection for an hour, when all were arranged in a semicircle and sang\n\"John Brown,\" \"Red White and Blue,\" \"Rally 'Round the Flag, Boys,\" and\na few temperance songs, in great glee. It was a happy group. We had a\nfew visitors, who left us the happier for seeing the children and\nlistening to their sweet voices in song.\n\nI was often engaged in procuring good homes for these orphans. A few\nhomes were found that were not suitable, and the children were\nwithdrawn and placed in other homes.\n\nOn September 19th I met Mrs. Edgerton, the matron of our asylum, with\nT. D. Allen, of Kalamazoo, agent under J. R. Shipherd, secretary of the\nAmerican Missionary Association, who were authorized to build a\nschool-room for the asylum. Heretofore the children's play-room had\nbeen used for the school during the warm season. As the American\nMissionary Association was doing a great work in the late slave States\nin maintaining freedmen's schools, the officers concluded to solicit\naid, in the State of Michigan for the building of the much needed\nschool-room. They urged me to engage in this work, but I thought that I\nhad done my share, in giving the time I had to soliciting money for the\npurchase of supplies. Besides Elizabeth L. Comstock had given one\nthousand dollars in money, with which to enlarge the little farm to\nthirty-five acres, buy a horse, and furnish the little folks with hats,\netc. Then I wanted to look for a home, as I was becoming rather weary\nof singing the old song,\n\n  \"No foot of land do I possess,\n   No cottage in this wilderness.\"\n\nThis had been my condition for nearly three years; but with all my\npleading, I failed to be released. As it was already cooler weather,\nand Winter would soon overtake us, T. D. Allen said I had worked long\nenough without reward, save that of blessing these little homeless\nwaifs, and now, if I would take hold of this enterprise, I should be\npaid the same amount he was receiving.\n\nAt length I agreed to spend a week or two at least, and took from him\nthe bill of all the kinds of lumber needed, and left for Detroit. Judge\nF. C. Beaman furnished me with a letter of introduction, indorsed by\nRev. Dr. George Duffield, of Detroit. I called, as he advised, on\nSamuel Pitts, who subscribed one hundred dollars in lumber. I selected\nout of my bill what was first called for to enable the carpenters\nalready engaged to commence their work. I then called on Mr. Cooper,\nfreight agent, to secure, if possible, free transportation to Adrian;\nto him I gave my introductory letter. When he glanced at the heading,\nwithout reading it, he gave it a toss on his table toward me, with a\nlook of disgust, saying, \"I've seen that thing before, and I've nothing\nto do with it.\"\n\n\"That is a mistake,\" said I; \"that paper is from F. C. Beaman, and not\na week old.\"\n\n\"If I'm not _very much_ mistaken I've seen it before.\"\n\n\"Well, you are very much mistaken, for I brought it to this city with\nme yesterday, and I have not been in your office until this minute. But\nI am not soliciting money. I only called to see if I can secure free\ntransportation for one hundred dollars' worth of lumber to Adrian for\nan orphan school-room, as forty little homeless waifs, under our care,\nhave no school-room, except a wood-house and play-room. The cold\nweather will soon overtake us.\"\n\nHe listened patiently to my short speech, and said he had no authority\nto grant such a favor; that I would have to write to C. H. Hatch, then\nin Chicago.\n\n\"I know he would grant it,\" I said, \"for he granted this quarter pass\non his road for my mission work,\" showing the pass.\n\nHe turned it over and spent double the time in examining it that he did\non my introductory letter, and said, slowly, \"I think I will risk\nsending this car-load,\" and wrote an order to his assistant to send it\nforthwith to Adrian.\n\nI thankfully returned to my duty of calling on the list of the\nbenevolently inclined wealthy persons whose names Dr. Duffield and J.\nF. Conover had furnished. Rev. Dr. Hogarth, Mr. Raymond, the\nbook-merchant, and Rev. Dr. Duffield gave sufficient to pay the cartage\nof the lumber to the depot. Soon it was on its way. I dined at Moses\nSutton's, who gave $5, and his sister Annie $1. Mr. Brooks gave me $25\nin lumber. Mr. Bronson gave five thousand shingles; another gave $2.50\nin shingles.\n\nAfter a few days at home I returned, October 25th, to Detroit, and\ntoiled, like the fishermen, nearly all day, and caught nothing. Weary,\nand almost discouraged, I was about to retire to my resting-place at\nAugustus Leggett's, when one gave $5, another $2. The following day I\ncalled on C. Merrill, who gave $5; another gave $5; Mr. R. C. Renuick\ngave $10; Mr. Whitney gave $5. Weariness coaxed me to another sweet\nresting-place, the home of my dear friends J. F. and Hannah Conover. I\ncalled on a few persons whose names had been given me by Mr. Palmer,\nfrom whom I received $17; and from a few others I received $15. John\nBagley gave $10; another gave $5; Rev. J. A. Baughman, $5; and Mr.\nKing, his son-in-law, $5. I also called on Governor Crapo, who gave $5.\nOthers gave $5, $2, and $1, until I had forty dollars more to aid in\nconstructing our school-room.\n\nWe secured sufficient means to build our school-room. In all, with the\nfavors granted by the Michigan Southern and Lake Shore Railroad, we\nreceived about four hundred dollars.\n\nThrough the kindness of my friend, L. Tabor, Esq., who purchased a\nhouse and small lot for me, I again had a place for my children to\noccupy, which I could call my home; for which I praised the Lord, from\nwhom all blessings flow.\n\nAs our orphan asylum was now in a good condition, Mrs. Edgerton, the\nmatron, said the secretaries of the three divisions of the Missionary\nAssociation, Chicago, Cincinnati, and New York, met and voted her one\nhundred dollars a month, with which to carry forward this asylum. She\ndeemed this an ample supply, with what had been raised on the place.\nShe said it was then on a more substantial basis than it had been\nduring the year she had had it in charge.\n\nThrough General O. O. Howard I learned that mission work was much\nneeded in Charleston, South Carolina, and received from him\ntransportation to that city by way of Washington, District of Columbia.\n\nMy health being now restored, on January 29, 1869, I left my sweet home\nand loved ones at three o'clock P. M., and spent the night in Toledo,\nwith my old friends, William Merritt and wife. I attended with them the\nprayer-meeting in the new colored church. I arrived at Pittsburg with\nbut little detention. Passing through the mountains, we found the snow\ndeeper than when I left Michigan. At seven A. M. we passed the wreck of\nthree cars which had run off the embankment and were still burning.\nAmong the killed taken from the wreck was a woman partially burnt. I\ndid not learn the number of killed and injured. Among these dead and\ndying I should probably have been had I not spent the night in Toledo,\nas this was the train, I would have been on had I remained on the one I\nleft. O, how sad to look upon this smoldering wreck, from which I had\nso narrowly escaped! This was the third accident of this kind which I\nhad thus providentially missed in my travels by river and rail of three\nthousand miles. Many are the dangers, seen and unseen, through which I\nhave passed, and the remembrance of this disaster calls forth a renewed\nsong of deliverance and praise for the Guiding Hand that preserves\nthrough the vicissitudes of this ever-changing life.\n\nI arrived in Washington early in the morning, and took breakfast with\nmy friend Dr. Glenan. Here I found my brother, Harvey Smith, and his\nson, who were teaching freedmen's schools, and with them I spent the\nSabbath, In the evening I attended the Colored Methodist Episcopal\nChurch, and was invited to address the large meeting. I spoke half an\nhour, and told the history of Uncle Philip, and how, amidst the\npersecutions and sorrows to which his slave-life subjected him, he had\nkept his hand in the hand of his Savior all these ninety-seven years.\n\nWhile speaking of his being whipped until he fainted, a few wept aloud,\nand after meeting a number came to tell me of their being whipped for\npraying. One woman was whipped until she fainted, and one man was kept\nin the stocks all night after being whipped, and came near dying. His\nmaster told him he \"would whip the praying devil out of him,\" using the\nsame words that Uncle Philip's master used to him.\n\nThe surgeon-in-chief, Dr. Reynolds, wished me to remain in Washington\nanother day, and thought General Howard would permit me to stay there\nfor a time, to engage in sanitary work. I had an interview with the\ngeneral, who thought I was most needed in Washington, during the Winter\nseason at least. He gave me authority to visit the free soup-houses,\nand investigate the sanitary work generally. After reading my\ncommission, I told him I had a request to make, and that was that the\nauthority with which I was vested, might be kept secret. To investigate\nto the best advantage was my object. I was also appointed to examine,\nas far as practicable, the condition of applicants for charity, and the\nmanner in which the charity was applied. My office was furnished, and\nboard was allowed me at the head-quarters of the freedmen's hospital in\nCampbell Camp.\n\nOn February eth I called at Josephine Griffin's relief office before 10\no'clock A. M. Between sixty and seventy persons called on her, mostly\nfor work. I followed a number of the applicants for soup-tickets to\ntheir homes. In visiting twenty families during the day, I found a\nnumber of persona in squalid wretchedness. One man was very sick with a\nhigh fever, and unconscious. He had received no help, because unable to\nmake personal application, and he had no family to intercede for him.\nHis bed was a pile of rags in the corner on the floor. I called for the\nBureau physician and saw that he had suitable bed-clothing and food.\nThe physician said he must have died within two or three days in that\ncondition. Among the applicants for relief was an Irishwoman, who had a\nbrick house she was renting, except the back room, which she occupied,\nand had another nearly finished. She and her family for whom she was\nbegging soup, lived in good style.\n\nThe fourth day of my investigations revealed great deficiency in\nproperly looking after applicants for aid. The greatest sufferers were\noften too diffident to ask for help. The soup-houses were generally\nwell managed. I called as one whom curiosity had drawn into the motley\ncrowd, and was treated to a taste of fine soup, even at the \"Savage\nSoup-house,\" where I saw two caldrons of soup. The one from which I was\nserved might well tempt the palate of an epicure, but the other looked\ntoo forbidding for a human stomach. I soon found the good soup was\nbeing given to the white applicants, who were first served, while the\ncolored people, standing in the yard, were waiting their time.\nPoliceman Ross told a shivering colored man to go inside and put his\npail on the farther block for soup.\n\n\"I shall be sent out,\" he replied.\n\n\"I tell you to go in,\" said the policeman; \"I'll see to that.\"\n\nHe obeyed the order, only to receive curses: \"You know better than to\ncome yet; another thing you know, this soup is for white folks, the\nother is for niggers.\"\n\nAt this, Policeman Roes canoe in: \"I have seen,\" said he, \"fish made of\none and flesh of another long enough. Here are women and children\nstanding out on the ice and snow, waiting all this afternoon for you to\nserve the white people first. Another thing I'd like to know, why is\nthis difference in the soup? That black stuff is hardly fit for pigs to\neat, Mr. Savage, and you know it.\"\n\n\"Our citizens furnish material for this soup,\" replied he, \"and our\ncitizens shall have it.\"\n\n\"Doesn't General Howard furnish a hundred pounds of beef and two\nhundred loaves of bread each day? and on Saturday it is double. Another\nthing I'd like to know--are these not our citizens?\" pointing toward\nthe yard full of colored people.\n\n\"There are ten thousand too many of 'em, and it's none of your\nbusiness; I shall do as I please.\"\n\n\"I will let you know; I shall make it my business to report you to\nGeneral Howard.\"\n\nMr. Savage poured out a horrid volley of oaths at him, adding that all\nhis reporting would make no difference with him. One Irish woman\nreceived three loaves of bread, four quarts of soup, and a large piece\nof meat. After nearly all, both white and colored, were served, the\nlieutenant policeman left, but Mr. Ross remained until the end of the\ndisbursing. I was tempted to cheer the policeman for his bravery, but\nthought silence the better part of valor.\n\nWhen Aunt Chloe's \"cl'arin' up time\" was come, I took my departure. I\nsaw the policeman standing near the gate, and said in low tone, as I\npassed out, \"I thank you for your words.\"\n\n\"Stop; do you live here?\" he said.\n\n\"Temporarily.\"\n\n\"Go slowly till I get my club, so I can catch up. I want to see you.\"\n\nHe soon overtook me, and inquired whether I was one of the visiting\ncommittee. I told him that I was authorized by General Howard to\ninspect the soup-houses. He asked whether I was going to report Savage\n\"I am on my way,\" I said, \"to the general's office for that purpose.\"\n\"I will give you my name and number,\" he replied, \"and will run to see\nthe lieutenant of police, who will give his name and number for\nreference also; I'll overtake you by the time you reach Pennsylvania\nAvenue\" And off he ran. As I wished to inspect the poor soup more\nthoroughly, I called at a cabin, the home of the poor man that the\npoliceman compelled to go in and demand the good soup. I found his\nquart of excuse for soup, on the stove to cook the half raw bits of\nturnips and potatoes. I tasted of what the policeman said was hardly\nfit for pigs, and fully agreed with his assertion, for the man said it\nmade them sick to eat it without cooking it over. This man had been\nsick with pneumonia, and his mother very sick with it at this time I\nhurried to the nearest grocery, where I bought crackers, sugar, rice,\nbread, tea, and mustard for a plaster to put on her side. The man had\nreceived only a slice of bread with his quart of soup, for the seven\nreported in his family, four of whom were sick.\n\nWhen I reached the avenue, I met the policeman who had nearly run\nhimself out of breath. He was delayed in hunting for the lieutenant,\nwho sent word that he would call on the general to confirm my report if\nnecessary, and gave his name and number. The result of the report was,\nthat a notice was sent at once to Mr. Savage that there must be no\ndifference in giving to the poor, either in quality or quantity at his\nsoup-house, and that the difference mad between white and colored, as\nreported to him, could not continue. In reply, Mr. Savage denied having\nmade any difference in his soup-house, and charged the reporter with\nbeing an arrant liar, and he also made the same statement in the _Daily\nChronicle_.\n\nI wrote a confirmation of my report, using his own words in connection\nwith the remarks of policeman Ross, and took it to Dr. Reyburn,\nBurgeon-in-chief in the sanitary work. The doctor approved my\nstatement, and wrote a few lines of preface himself. As I used Mr.\nBoss's name, I called on him, who also approved, and referred to the\nlieutenant of police, who was present; and both sanctioned my report.\nThis was published in the _Chronicle_.\n\nAt this Savage raved, and swore he would arrest me for defamation.\nNeither did the policeman whose name I used as reference go unscathed.\nThe chief of the police force requested Mr. Ross to see me and learn by\nwhat authority I was acting, as there seemed to be none indicated in my\narticle in the _Chronicle_. Mr. Ross said the chief of police did not\ndoubt my authority, but would like to know, if I had no objection. I\npresented my paper, with a request that the matter should be held as\nconfidential, as I did not wish to make it public.\n\nAfter reading the paper he said: \"I think you are authorized to inspect\nthe work of the whole of us; I see in this the whole field is included.\nWould you object to my taking this to the chief of police, if I bring\nit back within, an hour or two? We may in some cases render you\nassistance.\"\n\nI had no objection, and he took it. I found their assistance in a few\ncases very important, as well as convenient. But with all the Savage\nthreats, nothing was done, and not even a reference was made to the\nsubject in either of the papers. Surgeon Reyburn told me, as he was\npassing a corner where a group of secessionists were discussing the\nsubject quite freely, that one man said, \"Why don't Savage do something\nabout that soup-house affair, and not be a numb-head, and let that\nwoman wind him around her finger like that?\" Another said, \"If I'd lied\nonce over that old soup-house, I'd lie again, before I'd hold still and\ntake all that\" He changed his soup-house policy for a little while; but\nthe complaints among secession friends and white customers caused him\nsoon afterward to backslide.\n\nMr. Carpenter, treasurer of the Provident Aid Society, wrote a letter\nto George Savage that he thought might improve him. But Surgeon Reyburn\nsent for me, and requested me to prepare for running the Fourth Ward\nsoup-house, as he had heard they were going to discharge George Savage.\nI called on Mr. Shepherd, the proper authority to discharge him. He\nsaid that in a week or two all the soup-houses would close for the\nseason, and, as Savage had received letters that he thought he would\nimprove by, he would release me from the task of running the\nsoup-house. I therefore continued visiting and relieving the sick and\nsuffering.\n\nI met in my rounds Dr. Cook, who said there was a child frozen to death\nin Kendal Green Barracks, nearly two miles away. Neither the doctor nor\nmyself knew who had charge there. I went, and found a child of ten\nmonths old that had chilled to death. The mother said hers was the\nfourth child in that row of cabins that had died; and that none of them\nwere allowed more than two four-foot sticks of fire-wood for\ntwenty-four hours. I called at the other cabins, and found them without\nfire, and all told the same story of lack of wood and no coal. There\nwas neither bedding nor clothing enough among them all to make a single\nfamily comfortable. The mother of the dead child had been to see the\nsuperintendent of the poor of the city to get a coffin. With shoes but\nlittle better than none, she had waded through melting snow until her\ndress was wet four inches, at least, around the bottom. I inquired who\nthe superintendent of this camp and barracks was, and they said, Major\nThompson. I went to his head-quarters, but found that he and his family\nhad gone to the Capital to learn how President Johnson's impeachment\ntrial was likely to end. I repaired to General C. H. Howard's office,\nand reported the condition of these families. He sent me back in his\nambulance, with fifty loaves of bread, a coffin for the dead child, and\ntwo quilts and a few blankets for the destitute, with instructions to\ngive the bread, except one loaf to each of the four families I had\nvisited, to Major Townsend, a man that I had met in the Sabbath-school\nhe superintended. He was surprised to find those families under his\ncare in such a condition. The general furthermore requested me to make\na thorough investigation of Kendal Green Barracks and camp.\n\nThe following day I visited forty families, and found twelve sick, and\nnot sufficiently supplied. I listened to many sad stories by a white\nman, who had been one of Major Townsend's police guards while he had\ncharge of Campbell Camp, before I went to Washington. I was informed\nthat the major had charged his two police guards to bring the woman\nthat was interfering with his camp to his office till he returned, if\nshe should come again in his absence. Although they were quite cross,\nthey did not take me to the major's head-quarters, as I told them I was\ncalling by request. The major had no more idea of who the intruder was\nthan I knew who the superintendent was until I made my report to the\ngeneral, when he informed me that it was not Thompson, but Major\nTownsend, to whom I had been introduced in a colored Sabbath-school.\nBut as he knew by the supplies which I took to the families that they\ncame from head-quarters, he called on General Howard, and from him\nlearned who the inspector was, and he told the general he would aid me\nin calling on the poor who needed aid. While he spent most of the day\nin calling at my office and going to see the general, I was visiting\nthe barracks.\n\nFor sundry misdemeanors while in office the major was relieved, and\nanother appointed in his stead. Though I did not think he was the right\nman for the place, yet I felt sorry for his excellent family. His wife\nand two young lady daughters I had called on, and was much pleased with\ntheir self-sacrificing Christian spirit.\n\nThere was much excitement in Washington during a portion of May, on\naccount of the impeachment and trial of President Johnson. At length,\non the 16th of the month, the news spread that he was acquitted of the\nhigh charges made against him by the House of Representatives, and that\nhis power was left uncurtailed. But he had turned his back upon our\nbrave soldiers, who bled and died to save the nation's life, and made\nno serious effort to put an end to the Kuklux outrages in the Southern\nStates. For this reason many demanded that he be removed from his\noffice. With them his acquittal foreboded ill; but we hoped for the\nbest.\n\nUncle Dodson, aged sixty-five years, a plantation preacher and a\nresident of Campbell Camp, caused great excitement when he found his\nlong-lost wife and she found her long-lost husband. Twenty years before\nthe husband and wife were torn apart by the unrelenting slave-master.\nWeeping and begging to be sold together, while kneeling at the master's\nfeet, they were only answered by a kick and the lash. Now they met\nagain. In the front yard the wife came running to him crying out, \"O\nBen Dodson, is dis you? I am your own Betty.\" And she clasped him\nclosely. \"Glory! glory! hallalujah! Dis is my Betty, shuah,\" he said,\npushing her away to look at her face. \"I foun' you at las'. I's hunted\nan' hunted till I track you up here. I's boun' to hunt till I fin' you\nif you's alive.\" And they both wept tears of joy. \"Ah, Betty, we cried\nharder'n dis when da sole us apart down dar in Egyp'.\" And another,\noutburst of joy followed. They were soon happily living together in\ntheir own little cabin.\n\nThe old man had some queer Scripture quotations. One he recited in\nmeeting twice before I had an opportunity of correcting him, and that\nwas, \"Adam called his wife's name Eve because she was the mother of all\nevil.\" As Uncle Dodson often wished me to read a chapter in their\nchapel meetings \"an 'splain it to us,\" I took occasion to read the\nthird chapter of Genesis, and when I read,\n\n\"Because she was the mother of all living,\" he called out \"ebil, ebil,\nsistah Hab'lin.\" Uncle Dodson was learning to read, and could read easy\nwords in the first reader. I placed the Bible before him and pointed to\nthe word \"living.\" \"Dat is so in dis place,\" he acknowledged, \"but it's\nsome place in de Bible.\" \"Father Dodson,\" I said, \"I have read every\nword in this Bible a number of times, and there is no such sentence\nbetween the two lids that Adam called his wife's name Eve because she\nwas the mother of all evil,\" and a smile ran through the entire\ncongregation. I added that it was not a wonder that these poor people\nshould misquote Scripture, as a few years ago many of them were not\nallowed to learn to read. At this three of that company testified to\nbeing punished severely for learning their letters of a little white\nboy. I told them it was a greater wonder that they had passed through\nsuch privations and retained as much intelligence as they possessed. \"O\nyes, well do I 'member when I was punish' too,\" said another, \"for\ntryin' to learn to read.\" Turning to a young exhorter sitting by him,\nUncle Dodson said, \"Brodder Davis, I've labored in de Gospel mor'n\nforty years wid de white ministers and wid de black ministers, an' I\nneber foun' one so deep in de Scriptur' as sistah Hablin.\" We continued\nour exercises with good satisfaction.\n\nAnother of Father Dodson's comforting passages was, \"Blessed is the\ncorpse that the rain falls on.\" If the departed one had left no other\nevidence of being, prepared for the great change, then a rain on the\nday of the funeral was sufficient. I found this was quite generally\naccepted as a sure evidence with many of them.\n\nAs I was passing through the hospital yard a number of the\nconvalescents were in a group discussing the subject of charity,\nthinking that some one had been too harshly judged. Said one man, \"Paul\nsaid faith, hope, and charity. An' de greates' of 'em all was char'ty.\nAn' I knows what a bigger man nor Paul said, better man too.\"\n\n\"An' who dat, an' what he say?\" rejoined another. \"He say, 'Judge not\nan' ye shan't be judged.'\" \"An' who said dat?\" \"'T was George\nWashington.\"\n\nOn inquiry I found his parents lived many years in the vicinity of\nMount Vernon, and probably the colored people heard George Washington\nrepeat that text, and it was handed down among them as an original\nsaying of the Father of his Country, in their minds a greater and\nbetter man than Paul.\n\nWhile engaged in my work, as the weather became very warm, I often\nrested an hour or two in the capitol to listen to the many witnesses\nwho testified to the awful condition of our soldiers at Andersonville\nPrison, under Henry Wirtz. At the statement made concerning his\nstabbing and shooting the soldiers for leaning against the \"dead line,\"\nthe guilty man, Wirtz, shook as he arose from the sofa upon which he\nwas reclining, and swore \"that was a lie;\" but General Auger, the\npresident of the court, told him that he had nothing to say, and bade\nhim sit down, which he did with cursing in great excitement. I\nsome-times spent two or three hours in listening to the tale of the\nheartless cruelties that unprincipled wretch had committed. One woman,\nwhose son died in that prison, was listening one afternoon. She stood\nin the corridor, and as he passed with his guards for the ambulance,\nwhich was to bear him back to the prison, she followed with her best\nweapon, a large umbrella. This she nimbly used, thrusting the pointed\nend into his side or back, or wherever she could hit him, saying, \"You\nrascal, you villain, you murderer, you murdered my son in\nAndersonville.\" Her thrusts were in such quick succession that he\nbegged the guards to protect him; but they did not interfere with the\nbereaved woman until they got the prisoner into the ambulance.\n\nWhile I did not feel like following her example because of his\nmurdering my cousin, yet I told General Auger that it was well for\nHenry Wirtz that his case was not tried by mothers and sisters of the\nthousands who had suffered and died under his cruelties. Said the\ngeneral, \"I do not know but it would be the best thing for him if\nmothers and sisters were his judges.\" But if they were the ones to give\nthe decision, _justice_ and _mercy_ would never kiss each other over\nhim. I never was an advocate of capital punishment, but I must\nacknowledge I did feel at times, while listening to Henry Wirtz's\ntrial, that I would like to see that tiger in human form take a _hemp\nswing._ But when at last he received his sentence and swore he \"always\nthought the American Eagle was a d--- buzzard,\" I had no desire to\nmingle with the multitude to witness the execution, though he well\ndeserved the execration of all.\n\nOn May 14th I received a note from Mrs. Edgerton, stating that a\nperemptory order from Rev. J. R. Shipherd, secretary of the American\nMissionary Association at Chicago, had been received, to close the\nasylum immediately. From her note I learned that this was the day for\nthe auction sale of the asylum personal property. I was confident that\nforty or fifty little folks could not at once be properly situated in\ncompliance with such an order, and wrote J. R. Shipherd a proposition,\nreminding him of his verbal pledge and proposed terms on which we could\nreopen the asylum for all for whom no suitable homes might be found. I\nalso wrote an appeal to Rev. Geo. Whipple, of the New York Division,\nand sent with it a copy of the proposition I had made to J. R.\nShipherd. I received in reply a request to remit to that division the\nreply I should receive from J. R. Shipherd, or a copy, by the first\nmail, for they thought my proposition would be accepted. I wrote them\nthey should have whatever reply I might receive from J. R. Shipherd,\nbut I did not look for any word whatever from him. In the mean time I\nreceived a letter from Adrian informing me that four of the little\nchildren were already in the county poor-house, and that others would\nsoon be taken there, that four of the younger ones were left in the\nstreets of Adrian to find their own homes among colored people, and\nthat four were left with a poor colored family who were promised pay\nfor keeping them until other homes could be found. Four more were also\nleft with a white family in Palmyra, with the promise of pay until\nother arrangements were made. One little girl of ten years was left\nwith a woman of ill-fame and of drinking habits, and the little girl\nhad been seen drunk.\n\nI wrote to Rev. E. M. Cravath, secretary of the Middle Division, at\nCincinnati, and to Levi Coffin, and learned in reply that eight of the\nlittle children were found one morning sitting on the stone steps of\nthe office of the American Missionary Association, with a note in the\nhand of the oldest, aged ten or eleven years, the purport of which was,\n\"These children were sent by you to the asylum near Adrian, Michigan.\nIt has closed. You must take care of them.\" They said that Mrs.\nEdgerton brought them from the asylum, and sent them here in the\nexpress wagon. The office being locked, the driver left them on the\nsteps at 6 o'clock A. M. As they had eaten nothing during the night,\nLevi Coffin furnished them with food, while Rev. E. M. Cravath went to\nthe colored orphan asylum of the city, and made arrangements by paying\nthe board of managers one hundred dollars for their admittance. The\nletter from Levi Coffin contained the following queries: \"What ails\nMichigan, that she can not care for thirty or forty of these poor\nlittle homeless orphans, when we have had a few thousands to look after\nin this great thoroughfare? Where is the Christianity and philanthropy\nof your great State, to send these children back to us, who took them\nfrom those crowded camps, where there was so much suffering and dying,\nfor the purpose of their being properly trained, and fitted for\nusefulness, amid humane surroundings?\" They soon found the whys and\nwherefores in my letter and appeal to allow the asylum to be reopened.\n\nAfter writing a number of letters to the New York Division, containing\na full account of the condition of the children, and sending them a\ncopy of the letter from Adrian, I inquired whether as a Christian body\nthey could allow these children over whom they had assumed control, and\nfor whom they were responsible, to be turned out into the streets, to\nbe lodged in the county poor-house, and to be left in the house of\nill-fame, and appealed to them as Christian men to make some suitable\narrangements for them. Their reply was: \"We can not afford to allow\nthis condition of those children. We have not received a communication\nin this office that has produced the deep feeling that your last letter\nhas. We have telegraphed Mr. Shipherd to dispose of nothing more\nconnected with that asylum. How long would it be before it could he\nreopened, should we replace it in the hands of its friend?\" I answered,\n\"It shall be re-opened as soon as I receive official authority from\nyour association to do it, and I will resign my position in this work.\"\nIn reply to this, the Rev. Mr. Smith, a member of the New York\nDivision, came to Washington and authorized me to secure a part of the\nasylum building, and reopen it for the children that were in improper\nhouses. I secured a pass by way of Cincinnati, in accordance with the\nrequest of Levi Coffin and Rev. E. M. Cravath, of the Middle Division.\nThey had secured good homes for two of the children. I took the others\nhome.\n\nThe secretaries and a few other members of the three divisions met in\nOberlin to consider further concerning the asylum that had been so\nunwisely closed. At the close of this consultation I received a letter\nfrom Mr. Whipple, of New York, in which he stated that there was much\nsympathy expressed for me in behalf of the asylum by all except Mr.\nShipherd, who said he had done nothing of which I or any one else had\nany right to complain. He was ordered to return twenty-three boxes and\npackages of asylum goods to me, as I was acting under their orders in\nreopening the home; and they sent me fifty dollars for supplies. I\ngathered in between twenty-five and thirty children that had previously\nbelonged to the home, and bought back what furniture I could that had\nbeen sold at a great sacrifice. The corporation appointed me general\nsuperintendent of the asylum, and engaged me to devote my whole time to\nit.\n\nAlthough to provide means to carry it on was no small task, yet the\nburden to me seemed light compared with its importance. It had cost\ngreat anxiety and effort to accomplish what we had already done. I\nsecured a horse, repaired the buggy, and employed our soldier, Charlie\nTaft, whose health was much impaired from service in the army. He\noffered to spend the Winter with us, and render what assistance he\ncould, for his board. Just now our prospects were brighter than at any\nperiod since Raisin Institute was converted into a home for harmless\nlittle people, to train for useful citizens, instead of tramps, or\ninmates of prisons.\n\nBut, alas! we were doomed to a heavy draft upon our faith. After a very\nbusy day of measuring, cutting, and fitting garments for the little\nones, I went in haste to place a bundle of patches in the box in the\nhall room. It was now dark twilight, and I mistook the cellar door for\nthat of the hall. Passing through, I fell headlong seven feet against\nthe corner of a hard-wood beam. I received many bruises, and the\nconcussion fractured both the inner and outer layers of the left\ntemporal bone, and severed the temporal artery. I was taken up\ninsensible, and it was supposed that life was extinct; but in a few\nmoments signs of life appeared, and a physician was immediately sent\nfor. Great consternation prevailed among the children, and much\nsympathy was expressed, as well as many prayers offered by them in my\nbehalf.\n\nBrother Smart, pastor of the Methodist Episcopal Church in Adrian, was\nthen holding a series of meetings; and being told of the accident at\nthe evening meeting, he said: \"Elder Jacokes informs me that sister\nHaviland is supposed to be in a dying state from a dangerous fall in\nthe orphan asylum this evening. I propose to pursue my subject no\nfurther, but to turn this meeting into a season of prayer for her\nrestoration, if in accordance with the Lord's will; if not, that her\nmantle may fall upon another, to carry forward that enterprise. The\nLord can hear and answer here as readily as by her bedside.\" He then\nled in fervent supplication, followed by a few others. Said a friend\npresent: \"The announcement fell upon us like an electric shock, and I\nnever heard brother Smart, or those who followed, pray with such power.\nThen brother Bird arose and said, 'I feel confident that we shall have\nan answer to our prayers, that sister Haviland will be restored or\nanother take her place.'\"\n\nMy dear sister in Christ, Elizabeth L. Comstock, was at that time\nlaboring in the Master's vineyard in Chicago. Hearing of the accident\nby means of the telegram sent to my daughter residing in that city, she\nmentioned it at the Moody noon prayer-meeting, and requested prayer for\nmy restoration, if it were the Lord's will. I was made the subject of\nprayer also at Pittsford Wesleyan Methodist protracted meeting.\n\nA letter came from Rev. E. M. Cravath, of Cincinnati, addressed to me.\nIn answer, my daughter, L. J. Brownell, wrote that \"mother is\nunconscious from a dangerous fall, and we (her children) are earnestly\npraying for her restoration. If our Heavenly Father sees meet to grant\nour petition, you will receive a reply from her when practicable.\" The\nimmediate reply was: \"You may rest assured our All-wise Father will\nrestore your mother if he has further work for her to do. You may also\nbe assured that her friends in this city are uniting in prayer with her\nchildren for her recovery.\"\n\nI was so nearly conscious at one time that I heard some one say, \"She\nwill never speak again.\" The thought struck me forcibly that I was\ngoing to get well, and yet I had no sense of being ill. But I reflected\nthat my children must be very sad at the thought of giving me up, and I\nwould try to say, \"I am going to get well.\" With all the effort I could\ncommand I could not utter a syllable. Then I tried to see if my\nchildren were present; but I seemed to be in a pure, soft, white cloud,\nsuch as we sometimes see floating in the ethereal blue, where I could\ndiscover no countenance of those moving around my bed. Consequently I\ngave over the effort, and was again lost to all consciousness until\nthree days and nights had passed. Then the first returning\nconsciousness was the passing away of that beautiful white cloud, and I\nrecognized my three daughters standing before me. One of them said,\n\"Mother looks as if she knew us.\" Why, yes, I thought, they are my\ndaughters; but what are their names? and what is my name? Then I\nsurveyed the room. The papered wall, maps, pictures, and furniture all\nlooked familiar; but where am I? Am I in some large city, or in a\ncountry place? I am advanced in years; and what have I done in all my\nlife? But I could recall nothing.\n\nWhile in this mental soliloquy, it came to me what my name was, and\nthat this was the orphan asylum.\n\n\"Do you know me, mother?\" said my daughter Jane.\n\nIt was a matter of reflection before I could utter the word \"yes,\" and\nthen a study to give her name. At length I pronounced it. Another\ndaughter made the same query, and I had the answer, \"yes,\" ready, but\nit seemed a hard study again to recollect the name Mira. The same\neffort brought to my lips the name of Esther when she addressed me.\n\n\"Don't have the least anxiety or care,\" she said, \"about this orphan\nasylum, for the friends have brought gram, flour, meal, meat, and\ngroceries in abundance.\" O what a relief these words brought! Surely\nthe Lord is the Father of the fatherless.\n\nAfter studying for words I said, \"What is the matter?\" for I felt that\nmy head was very sore, and my face swollen. When told that I had fallen\ndown cellar and was badly hurt, I was surprised, for I could recall\nnothing of the fall. After calling to mind the various residences of my\ndaughters, and words to inquire how they knew of the accident, I was\ntold that my son-in-law telegraphed them. At length I reached the\nconclusion that I became stunned by the bruise on my head, and fell\nasleep and slept my senses all away, and that was the reason I did not\nknow any thing. I thought, must I learn to read again? Shall I ever\nknow any thing? How sad it will be not to know how to read or do any\nthing; but I will leave all in the hands of the dear Savior. They gave\nme medicine that I knew I had taken. Did I not take this an hour ago?\n\"O no, mother, not since yesterday.\" What day of the week is to-day?\n\"Monday.\" Then to-morrow will be Tuesday. \"Yes.\" I have got so far, I\nwill remember that, thought I. Again another dose of medicine was\ngiven. Did I take this yesterday? \"You took this two hours ago.\" It is\ncertain that I do not know any thing. How sad it will be when I get\nwell of this hurt (as I had no doubt but I should) and not know any\nthing. But, then, the second thought of leaving it with the Lord was a\nresting-place. But consciousness was gradually restored. The next day\nmy son Daniel came; but he did not dare to approach the front door,\nfearing that a tie of crepe on the knob would be the first to tell him\nthe sad story of his mother's departure He was met at the back door by\nhis three sisters, one of whom informed him of a faint hope of my\nrecovery, as there was evidence of returning consciousness.\n\nA day later the fourth daughter, Anna H. Camburo, arrived. I was thus\npermitted to meet all my children save one, whose infant son had died\nthe day after the news reached him of my fall. But as the children\ndaily informed their brother Joseph of increasing hope of my recovery,\nhe, of my six children, was the only absent one. Through their tender\ncare and the blessing of God, in answer to many earnest prayers, I was\nspared to toil on a few years longer. To him alone be all the praise!\nMy Savior never seemed nearer.\n\nIt was January, 15, 1869, when I fully realized that consciousness was\nrestored. I renewed my entire consecration to the service of my Lord\nand Master. All was peace and quiet within. The inmates of the asylum,\nbetween twenty-five and thirty, were so quiet that it seemed as if no\nmore than my own children were moving around me. During the second\nweek, through my dear friend Elizabeth L. Comstock, seventy-five\ndollars was sent to us from friends in Chicago. A few days later thirty\ndollars came from the same city. The fourth week after the fall I was\nremoved to my home in the city of Adrian, accompanied by my five\nchildren, three of whom then returned to their homes. In four months I\nhad so far recovered as to be able to do moderate asylum work, and in\none year I solicited and received one thousand dollars for the asylum,\naside from the means sent during my inability to labor. This kept the\nasylum in supplies, we hardly knew how, only as it came from the Father\nof the fatherless. Within ten days after my arrival at home I received\nthree checks of fifty dollars each from the Cincinnati Branch of the\nAmerican Missionary Association, from the Friends' Sabbath-school, in\nSyracuse, New York, and from John Stanton, Washington, D.C.\n\nIn all this severe trial I had no regrets in making this scheme another\nspecialty in my life-work. I visited nine county poor-houses, learning\nthe number of children in each, and noting their condition, with the\nview of reporting to our next Legislature. In three of the county\nhouses were girls, half idiotic, who had become mothers. In one there\nwere twenty children of school-age, sent to school four hours each day.\nAs I followed the matron through the dormitory and other parts of the\nhouse, I saw by the filthy appearance of the sheets and pillows, as\nwell as a want of order generally, a great need of system. As I was\nabout to leave I remarked to the matron, \"You have many unpleasant\ntasks to perform here.\"\n\n\"La me, I guess we do,\" she said.\n\n\"You have plenty of vermin to deal with, I suppose?\"\n\n\"Indeed we do. You can scrape up quarts of 'em.\"\n\nI added her testimony to my report. Then, after visiting many of the\ninfirmaries on April 6th, I attended meetings of our county supervisors\nand superintendent of the poor. I reported our work, and presented an\norder for dues for the previous month. Having arranged my monthly\nreport, I presented it to the monthly meeting of our asylum association.\n\nI retired weary, and awoke to see Dr. Pearsall about to leave my room.\nHe was giving directions to my two anxious daughters. To my surprise my\nson-in-law remarked, \"Mother is so much better, I will return home.\"\nHere was a mystery I was unable to solve, and I insisted on knowing why\nthe doctor was there, now nearly 2 o'clock in the morning. I was\ninformed that I had suffered an attack of apoplexy. I was not the least\nstartled, but told them if I had had a fit of that character, I was\nliable to go at any time, and I wished to say a few things and then I\nwould sleep: If I should be taken away in an unconscious state for them\nnot to have the least uneasiness about me, as my way was clear. I\nwished my children to live nearer the Savior, and meet their mother in\na fairer clime than this, and I requested them to tell my dear absent\nchildren the same. I then directed how my little effects should be\ndivided among my six children, and rested well in sleep until the usual\nhour of waking, and was able to dress in the afternoon.\n\nWithin ten days I rode to the asylum, made arrangements to rent the\nland of the asylum farm for the coming season, and wrote to brother G.\nA. Olmstead to take my place in looking after its interests for a few\nmonths, as my physicians told me it was unsafe for me to continue\nmental labor, and I must rest at least six months. This was another\nheavy drawback upon our faith and work, as we had designed to circulate\nour petition during the remainder of the year, so as to have it ready\nto present to the next Legislature. Rev. G. A. Olmstead undertook the\nwork of soliciting, and kept the asylum comfortably supplied until his\nhealth failed. Then a devoted and self-sacrificing sister, Catharine\nTaylor, took the field, while I spent six months visiting my children.\nThe severest prescription I ever took from physician, was to _think of\nnothing._ But I succeeded admirably, and spent much time in drawing\nbits of clippings and rags of diverse colors through canvas, making\ndomestic rugs for each of my children. I called upon various\nphysicians, who gave it as their opinion that I could safely accomplish\none-fourth of my former work, but I did not even reach that amount of\nlabor. In a little over a month's work, with a petition to the\nLegislature in my pocket, and at the home of Anson Barkus and wife, I\nwas taken with another midnight fit, and was much longer unconscious\nthan before, but I returned home the following afternoon, accompanied\nby brother Backus. Twenty-five miles ride on the car and a mile in the\nhack did not improve the strange pressure in my head. Within a week I\nhad five terrible spasms, lasting at times from five to twenty minutes;\nduring consciousness I was not able to speak a word. When I appeared\nmore comfortable, and my head more natural, greater hopes of my\nrecovery were entertained by my physician and children.\n\nI thought these fits were faintings; for I felt as if I had waked out\nof sleep each time. But the purple fingernails on the last day led me\nto suppose that I would die in one of these faints. Between the fits I\nmost earnestly prayed that, if it was the Lord's will, I might be\nrestored to work for him a little longer; but, if otherwise, I would\npraise him still for taking me over the beautiful river. O what a\nmistake to call it a dark, deep river, when it is only a bright,\nrippling stream, just across which all is peace and joy for evermore!\nThis was the constant breathing of my soul all day; and it vividly\nflashed upon my mind that fifteen years were added to Hezekiah's life\nin answer to prayer. This prayer, followed by these words, ran through\nmy mind during all that happy day. Can death, that is called the last\nenemy, look pleasant? It did look pleasant to me. Praise filled my soul.\n\nThat day will never be forgotten as long as memory and reason endure.\nIn the evening I slept three minutes, they said, by the watch, and when\nI awoke I could talk as easily as ever. From that day I improved in\nhealth. These spasms were caused by the pressure of blood in reopening\nthe temporal artery, or forcing its way through a new channel. I again\nreceived the tenderest of nursing on the part of my four daughters, and\npraise is due only to him who is the prayer-hearing God. With the\nfervent prayers of that memorable day come the words of the poet:\n\n  \"'Tis a glorious boon to die,\n   A favor that can't be prized too high,\"\n\nbecause of an abundant entrance to be administered to us into the\nglorious mansions prepared by our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII.\n\nPRESENT CONDITION OF THE FREEDMEN.\n\n\nOur investigations have proved to the friends of the former slaves that\ntheir emigration from the South was not instituted and put into\noperation by their own choice, except as the force of circumstances, in\ntheir surroundings, pressed them into this remarkable movement. Monthly\nreports of the Kansas Freedmen's Relief Association have also proved\nsatisfactory to thousands of donors toward their relief. The increasing\nintelligence among the four millions and a half of slaves, declared\nfree by the nation's pen in the hand of her President, Abraham Lincoln,\nthey found did not bring with it the glorious sunlight of freedom the\nproclamation promised in its dawn. After fifteen years of patient\nhoping, waiting, and watching for the shaping of government, they saw\nclearly that their future condition as a race must be submissive\nvassalage, a war of races, or emigration. Circulars were secretly\ndistributed among themselves, until the conclusion was reached to wend\ntheir way northward, as their former masters' power had again become\ntyrannous. This power they were and are made to see and feel most\nkeenly in many localities, a few incidents will show.\n\nElder Perry Bradley left Carthage, Leek County, Mississippi, in\nJanuary, 1880, and testifies to the following facts:\n\n\"In October, 1879, twenty-five or thirty masked men went into Peter\nWatson's house, and took him from his bed, amid screams of 'murder'\nfrom his wife and seven children; but the only reply the wife and\nchildren received at the hands of the desperadoes was a beating. Their\nboy of twelve years knocked one down with a chair. While the fighting\nwas going on within, and in their efforts to hold their victim outside,\nhe wrenched himself from their grasp--leaving his shirt in their\nhands--and ran through the woods to my house, around which colored men\ngathered and protected him. Although twelve gun-shots followed him in\nthe chase, yet none hit him. By the aid of friends he took the first\ntrain he could reach, which, to his surprise, took him twenty-five\nmiles southward, instead of in a northern direction. At Cassiasca,\nAttala County, Mississippi, not knowing whether they were friends or\nfoes, he told them he wanted to go to Kansas. They told him he should\nswear that he could not make a living there, before they would allow\nhim to go North. As he found they were all Democrats at that depot, he\nconsented to their demand; consequently they brought the Bible, and he\ntook his oath 'that he could make a living there, but could not get\nit.' The Democratic 'bull-dozers,' who had sworn they would hang him if\nthey ever caught him, took his span of horses, wagon, three cows, and\nhis crop of cotton, corn, sugar-cane, and potatoes (all matured), and\ngave his wife money with which to pay the fare for herself and seven\nchildren, the twenty-five miles on the cars to meet her husband. The\ncolored men were told 'that if they would be Democrats they could stay;\nbut Republicans and carpet-baggers could not live there.'\n\n\"Austin Carter, a Methodist preacher, was an earnest temperance worker,\nand was prospering in that part of his work. He was also a strong\nRepublican. He was shot dead in August, 1878, near New Forest Station,\nScott County, Mississippi, on the railroad running east and west\nbetween Jackson and Meridian, Mississippi, while on his way home,\nbetween the hours of six and seven o'clock P. M. He received four shots\nin the back of his head, which instantly took his life. His wife and\nchildren knew nothing of it until the shocking tidings reached them the\nfollowing morning. Thomas Graham, a wealthy merchant at Forest Station,\nreported that the man who shot him had gone to Texas and could not be\nfound or heard from; and nothing was done to find the murderer or to\nbring him to justice.\"\n\nElder Perry Bradley was told by a number of this class of Democrats, at\nvarious places where he was accustomed to preach, that he could not\nlive there and preach unless he would vote the Democratic ticket and\nteach his people to do the same. Said he, \"In the town of Hillsboro, at\none of my meetings, the bulldozers came into the congregation and took\nme out of the meeting, held in a school-house one mile from Hillsboro,\non April 15, 1879, at ten o'clock P. M., where I had preached during\nour day meetings without disturbance. Captain Hardy, leading the band,\ntook me into the woods to an old deserted house, in which was their\ngeneral or chief commander, Warsham, who asked the following question:\n'Will you stop preaching to your people that Christ died to make you\nall free, body, soul, and spirit?' 'I can not stop preaching God's\ntruth as I find it in the Bible,' was my answer. 'I want you to\nunderstand now that you can't preach such doctrine to our niggers,' was\nthe rejoinder. He then directed them to give me two hundred lashes.\nThey took me out in the front yard and drove four stakes in the ground,\nto which each wrist and foot was fastened. After being disrobed of my\nclothing and fastened, face downward, two men were selected to do the\nwhipping, one on each side, alternating their strokes, while the rabble\nstood around until the two hundred lashes were given. Then they were\ntold to stop and let me up. Too weak and trembling to stand, I was\nagain queried whether I would not now preach the Democratic doctrine\nand vote that ticket? I replied, 'I can not conscientiously make such a\npromise.' 'Why not? 'Because I do not believe there are Democrats in\nheaven.' Said their general, Warsham, 'We'll turn him loose with this\nbrushing; may be he'll conclude to behave himself after this.' Turning\nto me he said, 'Remember, this is but a light brushing compared with\nwhat you'll get next time; but well try you with this.' I returned to\nmy home with my back cut in many deep gashes, the scars of which I\nshall carry to my grave. Yet I praised God in remembrance that my\nloving Savior suffered more than this for me, and that this suffering\nwas in his cause. As soon as I was able to continue my work for my Lord\nand Master among my people I was again enabled to proclaim the riches\nof his grace. A few weeks after resuming my work I preached on the Dan.\nLewis' place, in Scott County, where I had held meetings undisturbed.\nBut the same company sought me out, and took me out of an evening\nmeeting into the woods about three miles distant to hang me. After due\npreparations were made they passed their whisky around, of which they\nall drank so freely that in their carousings they got into a fight, and\nwhile drawing pistols at each other young Warsham, the acting captain,\nin whose charge I was left, cut the rope that bound my hands behind me,\nand told me to 'go.' And gladly I obeyed the order and left them\nengaged in their fight and too drunk to notice my escape. I left that\nland of darkness as soon as possible for this free Kansas, and I have\nmy family with me, for which I thank my Deliverer from the jaws of the\nlion of oppression, and praise the Lord of hosts for a free country,\nwhere I can vote as well as preach according to the dictates of my own\nconscience without the torturing whip or the hangman's rope.\"\n\nProfessor T. Greener, of Howard University, Washington, D. C., who has\nbeen prominently identified in the new exodus lately returned from a\ntrip to Kansas, where he visited the colored colonies, and gathered\ninformation regarding the black emigrants. He reports them as doing\nwell, constantly receiving accessions to their numbers, and well\ntreated by their white neighbors. He says: \"Indications point to a\ncontinuance of emigration during the Winter, and increase in the\nSpring, not in consequence of any special effort on the part of those\nwho favor this solution of the vexed Southern question, but because the\nemigrants themselves are proving the best agents and propagandists\namong their friends South.\" Professor Greener is warm in his praise of\nGovernor John P. St. John and the people of Kansas.\n\nA staff correspondent of the Chicago _Inter-Ocean_, writing from\nTopeka, Kansas, December 31, 1879, says: \"During four weeks' travel\nthrough the State, I estimate the number of colored emigrants at\nfifteen, or twenty thousand. Of these one-fifth probably are able to\nbuy land, and are making good progress at farming. Most of the others\nhave found, through the Freedmen's Relief Association, places as\nlaborers, and are giving good satisfaction; and in no county are they\napplying for aid, nor are burdens upon corporate charities. The demand\nfor laborers seems stretched to its fullest capacity, as the\naccumulation of refugees at the barracks (now nearly seven hundred),\nfor whom no places can be found, clearly indicates. Judging from what I\nlearn from the refugees themselves, and from the increasing numbers,\nnow from twenty-five to fifty arriving every day, we predict that the\nmovement to Kansas will soon assume such proportions as to astonish the\ncountry, and unless the tide can be turned, or the charity of the North\nbe more readily bestowed, the suffering which the relief committee,\nalthough laboring faithfully with the means at their command, has not\nbeen entirely sufficient to relieve during the past cold weather, will\nsoon be turned to general destitution and great suffering among the\npauper refugees.\"\n\nThe greatest crime in many portions of the South is being a Republican.\nThis has added largely to the emigration, and the tide has reached not\nonly Kansas, but the older States of the North. It has entered Indiana,\nOhio, and Illinois, and soon will find its way into Wisconsin, Iowa,\nand Michigan. We find no political chicanery of the North in this\nuniversal uprising of the colored people of the South in leaving the\nhome of their birth. But it is the mistaken policy of the South that is\ndriving their laborers northward; that is, compelling them to flee to\nmore congenial surroundings. It is among the wonders that they waited\nso long and so patiently for the better day to come. Not long ago one\nthousand arrived in Parsons, Kansas, in the south-western part of the\nState. Governor St. John gave them a temperance speech with other good\nadvice. Two hundred and twenty-five arrived in Topeka, and while I was\nat the barracks over seventy came in from Texas. Hardly a day passed\nwhile I was there but we heard of fresh arrivals. Eleven wagon-loads\ncame into Parsons, and two of the men came to Topeka and reported the\ncondition of many of them as very poor. We relieved within three weeks\nover one thousand persons.\n\n_The crime of being a Republican_, in many portions of the South, is\nshown by the following testimonies. I interviewed an intelligent\ncolored man, John S. Scott, of Anderson County, South Carolina. He came\nwell recommended as a well qualified teacher. He had taught\ntwenty-eight terms of school in South Carolina and six terms in\nGeorgia; but if he succeeded in collecting half his pay he did well. He\nhanded me a package of certificates and commendations. His friends were\nabout to run him for office, but his life was threatened, and he was\ninformed that they were determined to have a \"white man's government,\"\nand gave him to understand that if he got the office, his life would be\nworthless.\n\nAbbeville district, in that State, was Republican, and John Owen was an\ninfluential colored Republican. During the election he was arrested and\nplaced in jail, under the charge of selling forty-eight pounds of\ntwisted tobacco without license. When arraigned before the court it was\nproved that he had no such article, yet they fined him fifty dollars.\nHe had raised tobacco, but it was still in the leaf. The fine was paid,\nand after the election he was released.\n\nIn the Seventh Congressional District, on Coosa River, September 24,\n1877, a white man by the name of Burnam offered to purchase a small\ncotton farm near his, owned by a colored man, and offered him forty\ndollars for it. The owner replied, \"I will sell to no man for that\namount.\" Nothing more was said on the subject, and the colored man\npurchased a few pounds of bacon of Burnam and left for home. As he had\nto pass a little skirt of woods, Burnam took his gun, crossed the\nwoods, and came out ahead of the colored man and shot him dead! He\nremained at his home two weeks, when the excitement over the\ncold-blooded murder became unpleasant for him, and he left the\nneighborhood, and had not returned in March, 1878, the date my\ninformant left the country. The murdered man was a Republican.\n\nSanford Griffin was an honorably discharged soldier, and he testified\nthat Columbus Seats was shot dead by Frank Phillips, in Clarksville,\nTennessee. Griffin made an effort to have the murderer arrested, but\nfailed. No difference was known to exist between them, except on the\nsubject of politics. Seats was a Republican, and could not be induced\nto vote the Bourbon ticket.\n\nIn the autumn of 1878 Vincent Andersen was brought into Clarksville,\nMontgomery County, Tennessee, at eleven o'clock A. M. The following\nnight a mob took him out of jail and hanged him on a locust tree on the\nNashville Pike, near Clarksville. This case Griffin made an effort to\nbring before the court, but failed. The jailer, Perkins, said the men\nwho brought Anderson to the jail, came in the night, and having\noverpowered him, forcibly took the jail key. But a girl of thirteen\nyears testified that she saw the men in conversation with the jailer,\nand was confident they paid him money. Vincent Anderson had purchased\nten acres of land, and had paid every installment promptly, and was on\nthe way to the railroad station to make his last payment, when the mob\ntook him to jail, until the darkness of night favored their wicked\npurpose of taking his life. He could not be prevailed upon to vote the\nBourbon ticket.\n\nOne more incident this intelligent ex-Union soldier gave to which he\nwas a witness: A young white woman, Miss Smith, purchased a pistol and\nremarked, \"I am going to kill a nigger before the week is out.\" During\nthat week her father and Farran, a colored man, had a dispute, but\nFarran had no thought of any serious result from it. But as Lydia\nFarran, the wife of the colored man, was on her way to the field to\nhelp her husband, Miss Smith, the white girl of eighteen or twenty\nyears of age, took the pistol she had purchased a day or two\npreviously, and followed Lydia and shot her dead! She left two little\nchildren, then a colored family got to their distracted father, who\nescaped for his life. He had not known of any difficulty between his\nwife and Miss Smith, or any other of the family, and could attribute\nthe cool calculating murder of his wife to no other cause than the\nlittle difference of opinion that was expressed a few days previous to\nthe fatal deed! Sanford Griffin succeeded in bringing this case before\nthe court. But the charge of the judge to the jurors was, \"You must\nbear in mind that Miss Smith was the weaker party, and if the shooting\nwas in self-defense, it would be justifiable homicide.\" The jury so\nreturned their verdict, and the case was dismissed.\n\nThe Freedmen's Aid Commission in Kansas relieved the wants of many of\nthese refugees from the South; but the number of colored people was so\ngreat that, until they could find places to work for others or for\nthemselves, the Commission had difficulty to care for them. A circular\nletter was issued, appealing to the friends of the cause for help. To\nthis letter, sent out in December, 1879, these few telling words, from\nour dear friend and Christian philanthropist, Elizabeth L. Comstock,\nwere added: \"The treasury is nearly empty; city and barracks very much\ncrowded; refugees coming in faster than we can care for them; money\nurgently needed for food, fuel, and medicine, and also to provide\nshelter.\" We take pleasure in announcing that our appeals from time to\ntime met with responsive chords in many hearts, and relief was sent to\nthe perishing.\n\nIt is needless to speak further of the causes for emigration, so\nclearly set forth in the foregoing facts; but we give a late one, which\nin its section of country caused considerable anxiety and stir among\nthis oppressed people. About the close of July an article appeared in\nthe _Mercury_, edited by Colonel A. G. Horn, at Meridian, Mississippi,\nin which occurs the following: \"We would like to engrave a prophecy on\nstone, to be read by generations in the future. The negroes in these\nStates will be slaves again or cease to be. Their sole refuge from\nextinction will be in slavery to the white man.\" Do not forget, dear\nreader, that though ignorant, as a large majority of ex-slaves are, yet\ntheir children read these sentiments, which are more outspoken than\nthat which characterizes Southern Democracy; yet re-enlivened treason\nis nevertheless the true sentiment and ruling power of many places in\nex-slave States. It is so accepted by the negroes, who, to avoid\nextinction or slavery, seek refuge amid physical and pecuniary\nhardships. Indeed, this exodus from the South, is not ended--a move for\nfreedom is not easily extinguished.\n\nTo aid the reader fully to understand the needs of these poor people in\nthe southern portion of Kansas, I insert an appeal of a constant and\nself-sacrificing worker for them, Daniel Votaw, of Independence,\nKansas: \"It appears that the southern portion of this State is having a\nlarger share of emigrants than any other part of it. For this reason I\nask the philanthropist to send aid quickly. I believe clothing will\ncome; but who will send money to buy bread? Most of them say, 'Just\ngive corn-bread, and we are satisfied.' I have never seen nor heard so\nmuch gratitude come from any people as flows from the hearts of these\npoor colored refugees. Our granaries are full, our groceries groan with\nthe weight of provisions; but these sufferers have nothing to buy with.\nMy blood almost runs chill when I remember that there are two excessive\nluxuries used by persons who call themselves men, that would, if\nrightly applied, fill this crying bill of want; namely, tobacco and\nwhisky. Come, erring brothers, to the rescue. Can you not donate these\nexpenses to this good cause? Do it, and Heaven will bless you. Those\nwho may send provisions, clothing, or money, will get a correct\naccount, if a note of donor or shipper is found inside the package, to\nenable us to respond with a correct receipt.\"\n\nI have a letter from a colored man in Mississippi, addressed to\nGovernor John P. St. John, which he turned over to me to answer. I give\nan extract: \"Please advise me what to do. The white men here say we\nhave got to stay here, because we have no money to go with. We can\norganise with a little. Since the white people mistrust our intentions,\nthey hardly let us have bread to eat. As soon as we can go on a cheap\nscale, we are getting ready to leave. Some of us are almost naked and\nstarved. We are banding together without any instruction from you or\nany aid society. We are all Republicans, and hard-working men, and men\nof trust We have to keep our intention secret or be shot; and we are\nnot allowed to meet. We want to leave before the matter is found out by\nthe bulldozers. There are forty widows in our band. They are work-women\nand farmers also. The white men here take our wives and daughters and\nserve them as they please, and we are shot if we say any thing about it\nand if we vote any other way than their way we can not live in our\nState or county. We are sure to leave, or be killed. They have driven\naway all Northern whites and colored leaders. A little instruction from\nyou will aid the committee greatly in our efforts in getting away.\nHoping to hear from you soon in regard to the request, we remain, Very\ntruly yours,\" etc.\n\nThe foregoing from which I purposely omit the name and address of the\nwriter is a sample of many hundreds of letters received by Governor St\nJohn. Many of them he placed in our hands to reply. But neither the\ngovernor nor our association could do any thing to bring these poor\npeople to Kansas. Our sole object is to relieve them after their\narrival. Consequently, it is but little encouragement we could give\nthese sorrowing hearts as to any preparations for leaving that poisoned\nland. One family told us \"We were compelled to lay our plans in secret,\nand we left our bureau and two large pitchers standing in our cabin and\ntook a night boat.\" What a misnomer to call our former slave States\n\"free!\"\n\nThe cry has been, \"The sooner Northern carpet-baggers leave the South,\nthe better for them, and the sooner the nigger finds his proper place,\nand keeps it the better for him.\" The following incidents will serve as\ndata from which we have a right to judge of the manner used to bring\nthe colored people into what they deem their proper place. But they are\nbecoming too intelligent to endure subjugation when they can evade it\nby flight.\n\nRobert Robinson on the road between Huntsville, Alabama, and Cold\nSprings hired a colored man for three months, and he called at his\nstore for his pay \"All right,\" said Robison, \"step back and we'll look\nover the books and pay you.\" After entering the room the door was\nlocked, and Robinson placed a pistol at his head, while his brother\nbeat him with a pine club, which disabled him from labor for three\nweeks. This was his pay.\n\nGiles Lester was taken to jail, and was in the hands of Bailiff Dantey.\nA mob of fifteen or twenty men took him out on Friday night, to a piece\nof woods, and hanged him--not so as to break his neck at once; but they\nwere three hours in beating him to death. A white man living near by\nsaid he never heard such cries and groans of agony in all his life as\nduring those three hours. These atrocities were committed within two\nyears past.\n\nDuring the Mississippi riot that fiercely raged during 1875-6, the\nobject of which was to secure a solid Democratic vote at the\npresidential election, innocent men, without the shadow of provocation,\nwere hauled out of their houses and shot, or hanged; and no legal\nnotice was taken of the murderers, for they were men of property and\nstanding. General J.R. Chalmers was a leader in one band of these\nrioters, and is now honored with a seat in Congress. The mob took Henry\nAlcorn out of his house to the woods and shot him, leaving the murdered\nman to be buried by his friends, who mourned over his sad fate. But\nthere is no redress where this corrupt public sentiment takes the place\nof law. This band of rioters called up Charlie Green to cook for them\nall night at one of their places of rendezvous. At early morn, Charlie\nbeing tired, fell asleep sitting on a dry-goods box. One of the party\nsaid he wanted to try his gun before starting, and discharged its\ncontents into Green's body, taking his life instantly!\n\nOne or two instances of Southern malignity and outrage were reported to\nme by one of these refugees. A woman residing near some of those whom I\ninterviewed during my stay in Kansas, in 1879-80, was called out by the\n\"Bourbons\" or \"Regulators\" who were in pursuit of her husband, and\nquestioned as to his whereabouts. Suspecting that their object was to\ntake his life she refused to tell. Upon this a rope was placed around\nher neck and tied to a horse's tail, and she was thus dragged to the\nnearest wood and hanged to the limb of a tree until she was dead. Her\nhusband made his escape as, best he could with his mother-less babe.\n\nThere was a plantation in Mississippi rented to six colored men, three\nof them with families. At Christmas they called for a settlement.\nMorgan, the proprietor, brought them into his debt, and swore \"every\nnigger had eaten his head off.\" He took seven hundred bushels of wheat\nthat they had raised, and fourteen fat hogs, the corn, and even the\nteam and wagon they brought on the place. They concluded to resort to\nthe civil authorities, hoping to recover a portion of the avails of the\nseason's hard work. But Morgan gained the suit. At this the colored men\ntold him just what they thought of this wholesale robbery. Within a\nweek after the six men were taken out of their beds in the dead of\nnight, by a company of masked \"Regulators,\" who stripped the bedsteads\nof their cords, with which they were hanged and then lashed to boards\nand sent floating down the Mississippi River. A white cloth was\nfastened over their bosoms, upon which was written: \"Any one taking up\nthese bodies to bury may expect the same fate.\" They were taken out of\nthe river one hundred miles below. Two of the widows sent for the\nbodies of their husbands, and a number whom I conversed with attended\nthe funeral and read the notice on the linen, which had not been\nremoved from their persons. Surely we have a right, and it is our duty\nto ventilate these facts, though we may be deemed sensational. We can\nnot be charged with political wire-pulling, as they are beyond our\nreach. But I ask, in the words of Elizabeth H. Chandler, who has long\nsince gone to her rest and reward--\n\n  \"Shall we behold unheeding\n     Life's holiest feelings crushed?\n   When woman's heart is bleeding,\n     Shall woman's voice be hushed?\"\n\nIs it a wonder the freedmen flee by hundreds and thousands? They are\nstill coming into Kansas. There are many sick and dying among them. Let\nevery man, woman, and child arise and work for the refugees, who are\nsuffering for food, fuel, and clothing. There is great necessity for\nimmediate and vigorous effort, in taking the place of the Good\nSamaritan in caring for the robbed and bruised stranger, who find many\npriests and Levites passing by. During the Winter all money and\nsupplies for Kansas refugees should be directed to Elizabeth L.\nComstock, North Topeka, Kansas.\n\nOur work is by every possible means aiding these poor people to help\nthemselves, which they are doing wherever work can be found. But Winter\nseason overtaking them on the way to Kansas, and no work to be\nobtained, the philanthropy of our North will not withhold her liberal\nhand. It is a debt which we owe to this people. Comparatively few call\nfor assistance who have been in the State a year, and most of these are\naged grandparents, the sick, and widows with large families of small\nchildren.\n\nOf those who came early in the Spring of 1879, many have raised from\none hundred to four hundred bushels of corn each year, but they divide\nwith their friends and relatives who follow them. Some raised a few\nacres of cotton in their first year, and they are jubilant over their\nfuture outlook. They say, \"Kansas prairies will blossom as the rose,\nand whiten her thousands of acres with their favorite staple.\" One old\nman whose head was almost as white as the few acres of cotton he\nproduced, said, \"We'll 'stonish the nation wid thousands of snow-white\nacres of cotton in dis yere free Kansas, raised wid black hands.\" I\nfind they are writing back to their relatives and friends in the far\noff South, that they can raise cotton as successfully in Kansas as in\nMississippi, Alabama, and Louisiana. In this prospect the door of hope\nis opening before them, as if by the Almighty hand, which they accept\nas having led them to the \"land of freedom,\" as they often express\nthemselves.\n\nThey are coming in larger numbers again, notwithstanding every possible\neffort of planters to keep them back, and false reports from their\nenemies in this State that the exodus had ended, but we who are in\ncommunication with other portions of the State know to the contrary,\nand all who come report more to follow. These poor people who, between\nMarch, 1879, and March, 1881, have made their escape from an oppression\nthat seems almost incredible, and have come to Kansas to live, now\nnumber more than fifty thousand, and still they come. Like a great\npanorama, the scenes I witnessed in this State sixteen years ago, amid\nclashing arms, come back to me. Suffering and dying then seemed the\norder of each day. True, there is a great deal of suffering and\nignorance among these field hands still, but there is a marked\nimprovement, both as to the intelligence of these masses and their\npersonal comfort. Are they not as intelligent as were the children of\nIsrael when they left Egypt? They made a golden calf to worship after\nMoses had left them a few days. All ignorant people are prone to depend\nupon leaders instead of relying on themselves.\n\nJoseph Fletcher, who came into Kansas July 8, 1879, I found by his\npapers to be an honorably discharged soldier from Mississippi. He\ntestifies to the following facts: \"I saw one hundred men killed by\nshooting and hanging during the two years, 1878 and 1879; and my\nbrother was one of them; I can point to their graves to-day in the two\nparishes I worked in. This was in the Red River section, Mississippi.\nTheir crime was their persistence in voting the Republican ticket.\" A\nnumber of the representative men from those parishes were interviewed,\nand they testified to the same things A number of them had been\nsoldiers.\n\nAndrew J. Jackson, directly from Waterproof, Mississippi, says:\n\"Fairfax was a smart, educated man. He owned his house and land, and\ngave a lot to the colored Baptist Church and mostly built it. But the\nbulldozers burned both house and church. He rebuilt his house. The\nRepublicans nominated him for Senator, and the Bourbon Democrats found\nhe would be elected. They threatened his life, and as he found snares\nwere laid to entrap him, he made his escape to New Orleans for safety.\nWhen, they learned as to his whereabouts, a number of men wrote for him\nto come back, and they would drop the matter and let the election go as\nit would; but he heeded neither their letters nor telegrams. One of his\nfriends was fearful that he would heed their persuasions and went to\nsee him, and told him not to listen to their sweet talk, for the\nbulldozers only wanted him back so that they might take his life. The\nwhite Democrats continued to write to him to come back and advise the\ncolored people not to go North, and they would promise to protect him,\nfor every body wanted him to return and none would molest him. As he\ndid not return for all their pledges, one man, who had always appeared\nvery friendly with him, went to see him, and told him that all who had\nopposed him pledged their word and honor that he should not be\ndisturbed in the least if he would only return and persuade the colored\npeople not to go to Kansas, as he had more influence over them than any\nother man. He assured him so confidently that he concluded to trust\nthem, and returned to the bosom of his family on Saturday; but before\nMonday morning he was shot dead. The heart-rending scene can better be\nimagined than described.\"\n\nSaid one intelligent man, \"We can do nothing to protect the virtue of\nour wives and daughters.\" Near Greenville, Mississippi, a colored woman\nwas passing through a little skirt of woods, when she was attacked by\ntwo white men, who violated her person; then, to prevent exposure, they\nmurdered her in the most savage manner. They tied her clothes over her\nhead and hanged her by her waist to a hickory sapling, and ripped open\nher bowels until a babe, that would within a few weeks have occupied\nits place in its mother's arms, fell to the ground. Just at that\njuncture two colored men came in sight, and the white men dodged into\nthe woods. This drew attention to the awful scene of the dying woman\nweltering in her gore. They hastened to cut her down, and just as she\nwas breathing her last she whispered, \"Tell my husband.\" One watched\nthe corpse while the other went to inform the husband. This barbarous\nmurder, which took place in April, 1879, was twice related to me in the\nsame way by different women from the same neighborhood, who attended\nthe funeral. As I related this to our friend, W. Armour and wife, of\nKansas City, he remarked that the same incident had been told to him by\nsome of the new arrivals. We repeat, Who can wonder at their flight?\n\nOn July 12th and 13th two boat-loads more of refugees, numbering four\nhundred persons, landed in lower Kansas City. I heard it again\nrepeated, \"What shall we do? Here in Topeka are two hundred poor people\nwaiting to go somewhere to get work, and only two hundred dollars in\nour treasury!\" What shall we send them? More than fifty men and women\nwere then out hunting work; many found it and rented cabins. We waited\nfor a reply from the railroad authorities, to see if they would take\ntwo hundred passengers for that money to Colorado.\n\nThis association met and reached the conclusion to telegraph Mr. W.\nArmour and his co-laborers, at Kansas City, to send the four hundred at\nthat place to other points, as it was impossible to receive them in\nTopeka until those already there were furnished with homes, or more\nmoney should come to our aid. I returned to Kansas City, and found\ntheir hands and hearts full also, and heard the query repeated, \"What\nare we to do for these poor people? We can not send them back, and they\n_must_ be fed until we hear from places to which we have telegraphed.\"\nFavorable replies came for seventy-five families to Colorado. The\ncolored minister, Elder Watson, was to take them away, and visited St.\nLouis to request the friends in that city to send no more in this\ndirection for the present.\n\nA white woman called to see some of these poor people, and brought\nchicken broth for a very sick man. She said she was born in Virginia,\nraised in Georgia, where she had taught school, and also taught in\nMississippi and Alabama. Because she contended for the rights of the\ncolored people, as they were free, she was ostracised and compelled to\nleave the South. Said she, \"I have seen them hung and shot like dogs.\nThey can not tell you the half of what they suffer. I know it, for I\nhave seen it.\"\n\nWhile I was still visiting among these people, the steamer _Fannie\nLewis_ landed with one hundred and four more refugees from Mississippi.\nHere they had nothing for their covering except the open sky. We feared\nthat, unless other States should rally to the rescue, nothing but\nsuffering and death would be before them. Kansas had domiciled about\nwhat she could for the present, unless further aid should be given from\nwithout. This State had hardly recovered from the sweeping devastation\nof war when drought swept over her rich prairies, and scarcely had she\nrecovered from that drawback when the grasshoppers came and desolated\nher again. Then the Macedonian cry, \"Come over and help us,\" was heard\nand answered. Again we raise this cry in behalf of this oppressed\npeople, and it will meet a generous response.\n\nWhen forty thousand dependents were thrown into young Kansas by Price's\nraid through Missouri, followed by Colonels James Lane and Jennison, I\nreceived from General Curtis the report that twenty thousand poor\nwhites and as many freedmen were here to be cared for by government and\nthe benevolence of the North. At that time of sore need Michigan placed\nin my hands two thousand six hundred dollars in money, and from seven\nthousand to eight thousand dollars in supplies to relieve the perishing\nand dying of that day. The lesson is not forgotten, that it is more\nblessed to give than to receive. He alone who knows the end from the\nbeginning can tell the future of our country, and of the five million\nof its inhabitants of African descent. Yet eternal right must and will\ntriumph. The debt our nation owes to the ex-slave should be paid. The\nhundred thousand colored soldiers who fought as bravely to save our\nnation's life as did their paler-faced brethren, and faced the cannon's\nmouth as fearlessly for the prize above all price--_liberty_--are\nworthy of consideration. They were ever true to our soldiers. Many of\nour prisoners escaping from rebel dungeons were piloted by them into\nour lines. Many black \"aunties\" took their last chicken and made broth\nfor our sick Union soldiers, as did the one I met in Natchez,\nMississippi. She had been free a number of years, and had her yard full\nof geese, ducks, and chickens; but all went for Union soldiers. She was\na noble Christian woman. She said, \"I feels so sorry for a sick\nsoldier, so far from their home. I feels happy for all I kin do for\n'em. I knows Jesus pay me.\" Another colored woman whom I met at\nGloucester Courthouse, in Virginia, did the same.\n\nAn ex-soldier wrote in a note, found in a box of valuable clothing sent\nto the refugees in Kansas: \"I send this as a small token of the\ngratitude I owe to the colored people for saving my life when I was\nsick and escaping from a loathsome rebel prison. They took care of me\nand conducted me safely to our Union camp. This goes with a prayer that\nGod will bless that suffering people.\"\n\nWe have the testimony of many witnesses. Among them is J. C. Hartzell,\nD. D., of New Orleans, editor of the _Southwestern Christian Advocate_.\nHe says, \"The cruelties endured by the colored people of the South can\nnot be _overdrawn_.\" He knew of a number of families that took\nhomesteads on government lands and were doing well for themselves, but\nmasked \"Bourbons\" went in a company and drove them off, telling them\nthey \"had no business with homes of their own. The plantation was their\nplace, and there they should go.\" One man undertook to defend himself\nand family with his gun, but receiving a serious wound from one of the\nBourbons, he hid from his pursuers. One of his white friends heard of\nwhat had befallen him, and took him to New Orleans for safety, as he\nknew him to be an industrious and peaceable man. Here he employed a\nskillful surgeon to treat him. Our informant saw the bullet taken from\nhis body, and thought his life could be saved. But he is sure to lose\nit if he returns to his own home. Rev. J. C. Hartzell said he had\nreceived letters from various places all over the South, written by\nintelligent colored ministers, that their Churches were closed against\nthem until after election. The same thing was told me by many of those\nI interviewed.\n\nThe Bourbons said their meetings were the hot-beds of emigration and\nRepublicanism. In some places they were forbidden to meet in their\nprivate houses for prayer-meetings, as their enemies said they met to\nmake plans to go to Kansas. Is there no guarantee for life, liberty,\nand the pursuit of happiness? What a state of society is this for a\nfree country? Our first duty as a government is protection. But if it\nis too weak for that, the second duty is to welcome the fleeing refugee\nand point him to work, or to the thousands of acres of good government\nland, and help him where he needs help to keep body and soul together\nduring the few months it may require to make himself self-sustaining.\n\nFrom Daniel Votaw's report from Independence, Kansas, I extract the\nfollowing: \"Thomas Bell, of Dallas County, Texas, was hanged about\nOctober 5th for attempting to go with his family and a few neighbors to\nKansas. Blood and rapine mark the fugitive. After supper, from meal\nfurnished them for this purpose, they gave us a history of their trials\nin Texas, which was truly sorrowful; and with the notes, mortgages, and\ncredits given--to the whole amount, two thousand five hundred\ndollars--for their farms, they were compelled to leave and flee for\ntheir lives, as David did before Saul.\"\n\nShot-gun rule still continued. Philip Fauber, recently from near Baton\nKouge, Louisiana, testifies as follows: \"I rented land of Bragg and\nJames McNealy, and was to have one-third of the crop and furnish team\nand seed. I took three bales of cotton to the weigher, who read my\ncontract, and set aside one bale for me. But the McNealys claimed the\nthree bales, and I referred the matter to the Justice of the Peace,\nwho, after reading the contract, sanctioned the decision of the\nweigher. But the McNealys brought another officer, who asked to see the\ncontract I handed him the paper, which he read and tore up and threw\naway, and McNealy took possession of the last bale of cotton, which I\ntold them was my only dependence for my family's support for the\nWinter. On my way home through a little woods I received the contents\nof a shot-gun in my face, both eyes being put out. In great distress I\nfelt my way home. The doctor took a number of shot out of my face, but\nhe couldn't put my eyes back. I can now do nothing but depend upon\nothers to feed and clothe me till God takes me from this dark world to\nthat glorious world of light and peace. The old man, McNealy denied\nshooting me, but he never said he did not know who did. But he and his\ntwo sons died within a few months after I was shot In the last sickness\nof Bragg McNealy he sent for me to tell me for the last time that he\ndid not shoot me. Still he would not tell who did.\" The industrious\nwife of this poor man whose face is speckled with shot scars, is\nanxious to get four or five acres of land to work herself, and support\nherself and blind husband.\n\nA. A. Lacy, an intelligent colored man from New Orleans, who came to us\nindorsed by a number of others from the same city, testifies to the\nfacts related by him as follows: \"May 5, 1880, I called at the\ncustom-house to report for duty to General A. S. Badger, collector of\ncustoms, by whom I had been employed. He directed me to Captain L. E.\nSalles, the chief weigher, to whom I had reported a number of days, but\nfailed to get work, and as I failed this time I asked if I had better\ncontinue calling for work. He replied, 'You had better call again.' As\nI was passing out of the door his partner, Michael Walsh, came to me\n(in a gruff, commanding tone), 'What is that you say, Lacy?' 'Nothing\nto you,' I replied; 'I was speaking to Captain Salles.' At this he gave\na stab, and as I turned to see what he was hitting me for, he added two\nstabs more with cursing. As I was going down the steps I felt the warm\nblood running down my side, not yet realizing that I had been cut. I\nopened my vest and saw the flowing blood. I stepped into Mr.\nBlanchard's office, the assistant weigher, who was a Republican, and\nshowed him my side, with clothes saturated with blood. He was so\nshocked and excited that he was taken ill and died in just two weeks.\nHe advised me to enter a complaint against Michael Walsh, which I did,\nand he was placed in jail in default of thousand dollar bond. I was\nsent to the hospital. As there were many friends and reporters calling\non me, the surgeon forbade callers except immediate attendants and my\nwife. He said the deepest wound reached the left lung, and an eighth of\nan inch deeper would have produced instant death. On the tenth day I\nwas allowed to be removed to my home, and pronounced to be\nconvalescent. Michael Walsh was released from prison with no other mark\nof displeasure resting upon him for this attempt at murder than a few\ndays' imprisonment. As soon as I was able to walk about I took a boat\nwith friends whose lives had been threatened for Kansas, where we\narrived July 15, 1880. I am only able to light work, for which I am\nthankful. Yet it seems hard to lose all this time from the assassin's\nstab in a custom-house that belongs to the government I fought two\nyears to sustain.\"\n\nUncle Peter Cox, an aged man of eighty-eight years, has a wen on the\nback of his neck, running between his shoulders, larger than a\ntwo-quart bowl, that has been over thirty years coming. It was caused\nby heavy lifting and continued hard work during his slave-life. He came\nto Topeka, Kansas, in July, 1880, with his aged wife and deaf and dumb\ngrandson of eighteen years. His advanced age and deformity induced me\nto inquire more closely into the cause of leaving his State\n(Louisiana). After giving the sad history of his slave-life--the common\nlot of that class of goods and chattels--he said: \"Missus I stay'd thar\nas long as I could, when I seed my brodder in de Lo'd hangin' on a tree\nnot more'n a hundred rods from my house, near Baton Rouge. A sistah was\nhanged five miles off, on de plank road, in West Baton Rouge, in a\nlittle woods. Her sistah followed her beggin' for her life, and tole de\nbulldosers she couldn't tell whar her husban' was that da's gwine to\nhang. But da swore she should hang if she didn't tell.\" Giving his head\na shake, while tears dropped thick and fast down the deeply furrowed\ncheeks, he continued: \"O, Missus, I couldn't live thar no longer. I's\nso distressed day an' night. De chief captain of dis ban' of murder's\nwas Henry Castle, who wid his ban' of men was supported by Mr. Garrett,\nMr. Fisher, an' Mr. Washington, who were merchants in Baton Rouge.\"\n\nBut that poor grandfather's heart was filled with grief to overflowing\nwhen the faithful grandson was walking alone in the railroad track, and\nwas run over by the cars and instantly killed. Although the warning\nwhistle was given the poor deaf boy heard it not. As he was all the\naged pair had to depend upon for their living, it was to them a heavy\nstroke. No one can look over these testimonies without exclaiming, with\nDavid, \"Is there not a cause\" for the flight of this persecuted people?\nWe find many among them, like Lazarus, begging for the crumbs that fall\nfrom the rich man's table; but let us not allow them to die in this\nland of plenty.\n\nYet, through all these dark clouds, we perceive the silver linings. The\nheaven-born cause of temperance is gaining a foothold in our Southern\nStates. A crusade against the liquor-traffic commenced in Ohio, and has\nswept over Michigan and other neighboring States, and is still going on\nconquering and to conquer.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX.\n\nPROSPECTS OF THE FREEDMEN.\n\n\nOur last chapter contains the dark side of our picture. In this we\npresent the brighter prospects for a long and sorely oppressed race. We\nfirst note what has been and is being done for the fifty thousand who\nhave emigrated to Kansas As I have been a co-laborer with Elizabeth L.\nComstock more than two years in rescuing the perishing in their new\nhomes, I speak from personal knowledge.\n\nDuring the first Winter--1879-80--as mild as it was, more than one\nhundred refugees were found with frozen feet fingers. Five were frozen\nto death coming through the Indian Territory with their teams. Through\nfaithful agents, with supplies forwarded from other States, and even\nfrom friends in England in response to appeals sent out by Elizabeth L.\nComstock, very many sufferers were relieved. The goods from England\nwere forwarded mostly by James Clark, of Street. Over seventy thousand\ndollars' worth of supplies have passed through my hands for the relief\nof the refugees between September, 1879, when I commenced working for\nthem, and March, 1881 Thirteen thousand dollars of this amount came\nfrom England, having been sent by Friends or Quakers Besides money, we\nreceived new goods, as follows,\n\n  Warm, new blankets,  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  2,000\n  New garments for women and girls,  . . . . . . . . . . . .  5,000\n  New garments for men and boys, . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  3,000\n  New garments for babies and small children,  . . . . . . .  5,000\n  New knitted socks and hose, five hundred dozen pairs,  . .  6,000\n  Large quantity of sheets, pillow-cases, bed-quilts,\n    towels etc,  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  3,000\n  Queensware--Six large crates, one hundred and nineteen\n    dozen plates in each,  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  8,568\n  Cups and saucers, nearly . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  6,000\n  Bowls and mugs,  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  4,000\n  Platters, pitchers, and chamber wares, . . . . . . . . . .  3,500\n  Scissors,  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  6,000\n  Sets of knives and forks,  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  4,000\n  Spoons,  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  8,000\n  Needles, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15,000\n  Knitting needles,  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  2,500\n  Rags, with sewing materials, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  2,500\n  Papers of pins, six hundred and fifty dozen, and tape, 350, 1,000\n  Tin-cups and basins, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  6,000\n  Bed-ticks, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  1,500\n  Wash-dishes and pans,  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  2,000\n  Woolen dresses for women and girls, valued at  . . . . . . $1,680\n  New overcoats for men and boys, valued at  . . . . . . . .   $650\n  Three whole bolts of Welch flannel (seventy-two yards each)  $150\n  Two bolts heavy broadcloth, for overcoats, valued at . . .   $144\n  Women's cloaks and shawls, valued at . . . . . . . . . . . $2,250\n  New red flannel, valued at . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .   $150\n  Muslins, valued at . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .   $150\n  Gray flannel and three hundred pairs mittens, valued at  .   $500\n  Buttons, hooks and eyes, cotton thread, silk, etc.,  . . .   $500\n  New pieces goods, chiefly cotton, valued at  . . . . . . . $5,000\n\nOver ninety thousand dollars in money and supplies were distributed by\nthe Kansas Relief Association, until it was disbanded in May, 1881, and\nits head-quarters removed to Southern Kansas, where thousands of these\nSouthern emigrants are congregated. That locality is more favorable to\ncotton raising. Many of the refugees know but little of other business;\nhence the necessity for an agricultural, industrial, and educational\ninstitute, of which Elizabeth L. Comstock is the founder. At the\npresent date (August, 1881) eight thousand dollars are invested. This\nincludes the Homestead Fund. To meet the crying need of this people\nshe, in connection with her daughter, Caroline DeGreen, are untiring in\ntheir efforts to establish a permanent or systematized work. They have\nestablished this much needed institution on four hundred acres of good\nland, which is tilled by colored people, who receive pay for their work\nin provision, clothing, or money until they can purchase cheap land for\ntheir own homes.\n\nIt has been no small task to disburse wisely the large supplies sent\nfrom every Northern State and England in various portions of the State\nof Kansas. It has been done through the instrumentality of\nself-sacrificing men and women. The noble women of Topeka did their\nfull share. They districted the city, appointed a large investigating\ncommittee, and gave tickets calling for the articles most needed in the\nfamilies found in a suffering condition. By this plan impositions were\navoided.\n\nWhile we have entered bitter complaints against our Southern ex-slave\nStates, we ought to call to mind many persecutions endured by the\nopponents of slavery in our own States of the North. I have still in\nremembrance the many mobs to which abolitionists were exposed for\ndiscussing their views. I have not forgotten the burning shame and\ndisgrace upon our whole North because of the treatment it allowed to an\nearnest Christian philanthropist, Prudence Crandall, of Windham County,\nConnecticut. She opened a school in Canterbury Green for girls, and was\npatronized by the best families, not only of that town, but of other\ncounties and States. Among those who sought the advantages of her\nschool was a colored girl. But Prudence was too thorough a Quaker to\nregard the request of bitter prejudice on the part of her other patrons\nto dismiss her colored pupil. But she did not wait for them to execute\ntheir threat to withdraw their children. She sent them home. Then she\nadvertised her school as a boarding school for young ladies of color.\n\nThe people felt insulted, and held indignation meetings and appointed\ncommittees to remonstrate with her. But she stood by her principles\nregardless of their remonstrance. The excitement in that town ran high.\nA town meeting was called to devise means to remove the nuisance. In\n1833 Miss Crandall opened her school against the protest of an\nindignant populace. Another town meeting was called, at which it was\nresolved, \"That the establishment of a rendezvous, falsely denominated\na school, was designed by its projectors as the theater to promulgate\ntheir disgusting theory of amalgamation and their pernicious sentiments\nof subverting the Union. These pupils were to have been congregated\nhere from all quarters under the false pretense of educating them, but\nreally to scatter fire-brands, arrows, and death among brethren of our\nown blood.\"\n\nI well remember the voice of more than seven thousand, even at that\nday, who had never bowed the knee to the Baal of slavery that was\nraised in favor of the course pursued by the noble woman. Against one\nof these young colored girls the people were about to enforce an old\nvagrant law, requiring her to give security for her maintenance on\npenalty of being whipped on the naked body. Thus they required her to\nreturn to her home in Providence. Canterbury did its best to drive\nPrudence from her post. Her neighbors refused to give her fresh water\nfrom their wells, though they knew their own sons had filled her well\nwith stable refuse. Her father was threatened with mob-violence. An\nappeal was sent to their Legislature, and that body of wise men devised\na wicked enactment which they called law, which was brought to bear\nupon her parents on this wise: An order was sent to her father, in\nsubstance, as follows: \"Mr. Crandall, if you go to visit your daughter\nyou are to be fined one hundred dollars for the first offense, two\nhundred dollars for the second offense, doubling the amount every time.\nMrs. Crandall, if you go there you will be fined, and your daughter,\nAlmira, will be fined, and Mr. May,--and those gentlemen from\nProvidence [Messrs. George and Henry Benson], if they come here, will\nbe fined at the same rate. And your daughter, the one that has\nestablished the school for colored females, will be taken up the same\nway as for stealing a horse or for burglary. Her property will not be\ntaken, but she will be put in jail, not having the Liberty of the yard.\nThere is no mercy to be shown about it.\"\n\nSoon after this Miss Crandall was arrested and taken to jail for an\nalleged offense. Her trial resulted in an acquittal, but her\nestablishment was persecuted by every conceivable insult. She and her\nschool were shut out from attendance at the Congregational Church, and\nreligious services held in her own house were interrupted by volleys of\nrotten eggs and other missiles. At length the house was set on fire,\nbut the blaze was soon extinguished.\n\nIn 1834, on September 9th, just as the family was retiring for the\nnight, a body of men with iron bars surrounded the house, and\nsimultaneously beat in the windows and doors. This shameful outrage was\nmore than they could endure. Prudence Crandall was driven at last to\nclose her interesting school and send her pupils home. Then another\ntown meeting was held, a sort of glorification, justifying themselves,\nand praising their Legislature for passing the law for which they\nasked. All this abominable outrage I well remember, and am glad to see\nit called up in _Scribner's Magazine_ for December, 1880. A scathing\ndenunciation of the outrage was published in the Boston Liberator,\nedited by William Lloyd Garrison.\n\nPrudence Crandall did more for the cause of freedom by her persistence\nin the \"Higher Law\" doctrine of eternal right than the most eloquent\nantislavery lecturer could have accomplished in molding public\nsentiment of the whole North. Her name became a household word in\nthousands of Northern homes. When we see the changes forty and fifty\nyears have wrought in the North, surely we may look forward in strong\nfaith for like changes to take place over the South. It may take\nlonger, but come it will.\n\nWe note with pleasure the rapid strides of education among the colored\npeople in sixteen years. In 1864-5 I visited large schools in\nslave-pens that had become useless for the purposes for which they were\ndesigned. The stumps of their whipping-posts and the place of the\ndreaded auction block was vacated. Although many of their public\nschools are not all that could be desired, yet they have them, and they\nare doing a good work. In Virginia, beginning with 1871, the colored\nchildren enrolled for successive years numbered as follows: 38,554;\n46,736; 49,169; 54,945; 62,178, 65,043; 61,772; and 35,768. In South\nCarolina the enrollment from 1870 was, 15,894: 38,635; 46,535; 56,249;\n63,415; 70,802; 55,952; 62,120; and 64,095. In Mississippi, beginning\nwith 1875, the enrollment was 89,813; 90,178; 104,777; and 111,796. At\nthe present we foot up the astonishing number of 738,164 pupils.\nMaryland has appropriated two thousand dollars per annum for the\nsupport of normal schools for the training of colored teachers. An\nex-Confederate and ex-slave-holder of high degree subscribed five\nthousand dollars toward a college for colored people under the\npatronage of one of the colored Churches in the State of Georgia. All\nhonor is due such noble deeds. May there be more to follow his good\nexample.\n\nFrom the best authorities we have the figures of over a million\ncommunicants among the colored people in the United States. Of those in\nthe Southern States we have as follows, at this date, 1881:\n\n  African Methodists, . . . . . . . . . . 214,808\n  Methodist Episcopal Church (Colored), . 112,000\n  Colored Baptist Church, . . . . . . . . 500,000\n  Methodist Episcopal Zion Church,  . . . 190,000\n  Methodist Episcopal Church, . . . . . . 300,000\n\nAlmost every Church in the North has contributed to educational\npurposes in the South, but they are doing none too much. The Friends\nhave done much toward supporting a school in Helena, Arkansas, under\nthe supervision of Lida Clark, an untiring worker for that people. But\nwe have not the figures of amounts. But the Methodist Episcopal Church\nhas done, and is still doing, a great work, as our figures will show,\nin building commodious schoolhouses in various States.\n\nSchools of the Freedmen's Aid Society of the Methodist Episcopal Church\nfor 1880-81:\n\n    CHARTERED INSTITUTIONS.\n                                                    TEACHERS.  PUPILS.\n  Central Tennessee College, Nashville, Tenn.,  . . .  12        433\n  Clark University, Atlanta, Ga., . . . . . . . . . .   7        176\n  Chiflin University, Orangeburg, S. C.,  . . . . . .   9        388\n  New Orleans University. New Orleans, La., . . . . .   4        200\n  Shaw University, Holly Springs, Miss.,  . . . . . .   8        277\n  Wiley University, Marshall, Texas,  . . . . . . . .   6        323\n\n    THEOLOGICAL SCHOOLS.\n\n  Centenary Biblical Institute, Baltimore, Md.,  . . .  4        118\n  Baker Institute; Orangeburg, S. C.,  . . . . . . . . ...      .....\n    [Footnote: Pupils enumerated in the other schools]\n  Thompson Biblical Institute, N. Orleans, La.,  . . . ...      .....\n    [Footnote: Pupils enumerated in the other schools]\n\n    MEDICAL COLLEGE.\n\n  Meharry Medical College, Nashville, Tenn.,  . . . . .  8        35\n\n    Institutions NOT CHARTERED.\n\n  Bennett Seminary, Greensburg, N. C.,  . . . . . . . .  5       150\n  Cookman Institute, Jacksonville, Fla.,  . . . . . . .  5       166\n  Haven Normal School, Waynesboro, Ga., . . . . . . . .  2        60\n  La Grange Seminary, La Grange, Ga., . . . . . . . . .  2        96\n  Meridian Academy, Meridian, Miss.,  . . . . . . . . .  3       100\n  Rust Normal School, Huntsville, Ala., . . . . . . . .  2       112\n  Walden Seminary, Little Rock, Ark., . . . . . . . . .  2        60\n  West Texas Conf. Seminary, Austin, Tex.,  . . . . . .  3       101\n  La Teche Seminary, La Teche, La., . . . . . . . . . .  3       100\n  West Tennessee Seminary, Mason, Tenn.,  . . . . . . .  2        75\n\nWe must here put in our claim for the fifty thousand emigrants in\nKansas from the South. The Freedmen's Relief work in Kansas has been\nthoroughly organized and officered, and the contributions received for\nthe refugees judiciously distributed. An agricultural and industrial\nschool was established some time ago, and is meeting, so far, with good\nsuccess. It will, if properly sustained, prove to be a blessing not\nonly to the colored race, but to the State. From a circular issued in\nJune last, by Elizabeth L. Comstock, one of the superintendents of this\nwork, I extract the following paragraphs:\n\n\"Our first object is to employ those who come for work or for aid. We\nare strongly advised by their best friends, and the kind donors both\nsides the Atlantic, not to give any thing (except in return for labor)\nto those who are able to work, especially during the warm weather.\nWages are paid regularly every Saturday, and they come with their money\nto buy and select from the stock on hand what will suit themselves.\nSecond-hand clothing and bedding have a price affixed almost nominal.\nCoats, 10 cents each to $1, very few at $1; pants, drawers, shirts, and\nvests, 5 cents each; shoes, 5 cents a pair; stockings and socks, two\npairs for 5 cents; women's dresses, 10, 20, 30, and 40 cents each;\nchildren's clothes, 5 to 10 cents a garment; bed-quilts, comforters,\nand blankets, 20 to 50 cents; new ones, $1 each, if very good. New\nshoes and other articles, provisions, etc., that we have to purchase we\nbuy at wholesale, and try to supply them below the market price, some\nof them at half the retail price. Thus what little is gained on the old\nclothes makes up in part what we lose on the new. We could employ more\nlaborers if we had more money. The state of the treasury is low now. It\nseems hard to turn away any poor people who want to work. We should be\nvery glad of help just now in the way of seed for sowing, money to\nprovide food and shelter, and to finish up our buildings. We greatly\ndesire to start several industries before Winter, as blacksmith's shop,\ncarpenter's shop, broom factory, etc., etc., that they may have work\nduring the cold weather. We hope to have our school-house soon ready\nand to educate the children, and have an evening school for adults.\n\n\"An important part of our work will be to train the women and girls in\nthe various branches of household work, and sewing, knitting, etc. Nor\ndo we lose sight of the spiritual garden while providing for the\nintellectual fields and the physical wants. We greatly desire that this\nlong-oppressed race, who have been kept in darkness and ignorance,\nshould have the light of the glorious Gospel, and should have the Bible\nput into their hands, and be taught to read and understand it. Of\ncourse we meet with some opposition in our work, as many a brave\nsoldier has done before us, in battling for the right and for the\ncolored race.\"\n\nWe extract an item from the Columbus _Courier_ (Kansas): \"We are proud\nof the work of the 'Agricultural, Industrial, and Educational\nInstitute,' and earnestly desire its success, and we feel proud of\nthese good men and women who are led on by Mrs. Elizabeth L. Comstock\nat their head, and Mrs. Laura 8. Haviland, their secretary.\nCharacteristic spirits of the broad philanthropy of our beloved land,\nthey need no commendation to sustain them. This has been their\nlife-work, and they now select our State for their field of labor. J.\nE. Picketing was chosen from a body of eighteen directors as its\npresident, because of his experience in this kind of work, having at\none time been a conductor on the 'Under Ground.\" He does not receive or\nask for salary. He only presides at meetings of the Board of Directors,\nand has general oversight of the work in progress. His son, Lindly, was\nselected by the Board according to the expressed wish of Mrs. Comstock\nas superintendent. His wife is acting in the capacity of matron, but\nneither of them receives a salary, and they are to be paid by some\nfriends of the work when it is established. But now pay is a matter of\nno consideration. Charity does not require that these people should\nleave their comfortable homes and devote their time and energies to the\nlaborious duties of their positions without some reward. \"Forty acres\nof the four hundred upon which the institute is located was purchased\nof Lindly M. Pickering, at one hundred dollars less than he could\notherwise have obtained for it. It was selected for its improvements\nand its fine location, unsurpassed in the country. In conclusion, we\ndesire to refer to the good management with which without ostentation\nits affairs are vigorously pushed forward, believing that the\never-living, ever-aggressive principle of right will sustain them and\nsecure the success which so commendable an enterprise deserves. May\nheaven prosper the work of the nation's truest spirits and best and\nmost respected citizens!\"\n\nFrom the financial statement from April 15th to June 13, 1881, we find\nthat there has been received fur this industrial institute, in cash,\n$6,931.96. Two large consignments of goods were received about the last\ndate at Columbus by Elizabeth L. Comstock for the same object. We\nappeal to the Christian public to give us at least one school in Kansas\nfor the refugees.\n\n\"Sow thy seed in the morning, and in the evening withhold not thy hand,\nfor thou knowest not whether this or that will prosper.\"\n\n  \"Sowing the seed with an aching heart\n   Sowing the seed while the tear-drops start,\n   Sowing in hope till the reapers come,\n   Gladly to welcome the harvest home.\n     O what shall the harvest be?\"\n\nTHE END","title":"A Woman's Life-Work \u2014 Labors and Experiences of Laura S. Haviland","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":176005}