AN OHIO SCHOOL-TEACHER.
In the Autumn of 1847 a gentleman of evident culture called for early
breakfast, though he had passed a public house about two miles distant.
I mistrusted my stranger caller to be a counterfeit; and told him, as I
had the care of an infant for a sick friend, he would find better fare
at the boarding hall a few rods away. But introducing himself as an
Ohio school-teacher, and accustomed to boarding around, he had not
enjoyed his favorite bread and milk for a long while, and if I would be
so kind as to allow him a bowl of bread and milk he would accept it as
a favor. He said he had heard of our excellent school, and wished to
visit it. He was also acting as agent of the _National Era_, published
at Cincinnati, in which he was much interested, and solicited my
subscription. I told him I knew it to be a valuable periodical, but, as
I was taking three, abolition papers he must excuse me.
He was also very much interested in the underground railroad projects,
and referred to names of agents and stations, in Indiana and Ohio, in a
way that I concluded he had been on the trail and found me, as well as
others, and perhaps taken the assumed agency of the _Era_ for a
covering. He said it was found necessary in some places in Ohio and
Indiana to change the routes, as slave-holders had traced and followed
them so closely that they had made trouble in many places, and
suggested a change in Michigan, as there were five slave-holders in
Toledo, Ohio, when he came through, in search of escaped slaves. I
replied that it might be a good idea, but I had not considered it
sufficiently to decide.
Continuing his arguments, he referred to a slave who was captured by
Mr. B. Stevens, of Boone County, Kentucky. He saw him tied on a horse
standing at the door of an inn where he was teaching. In surprise, I
inquired:
"Did that community allow that to be done in their midst without making
an effort to rescue the self-made freeman?"
"O yes, because Stevens came with witnesses and papers, proving that he
legally owned him; so that nothing could be done to hinder him."
"That could never be done in this community; and I doubt whether it
could be done in this State."
"But what could you do in a case like that?"
"Let a slave-holder come and try us, as they did six months ago in
their effort to retake the Hamilton family, who are still living here
on my premises, and you see how they succeeded;" and I gave him their
plans and defeat. "Let them or any other slave-holders disturb an
escaped slave, at any time of night or day, and the sound of a tin horn
would be heard, with a dozen more answering it in different directions,
and men enough would gather around the trembling fugitive for his
rescue. For _women_ can blow horns, and _men_ can run. Bells are used
in our school and neighborhood; but if the sound of a tin horn is heard
it is understood, a few miles each way from Raisin Institute, just what
it means."
Looking surprised, he answered: "Well, I reckon you do understand
yourselves here. But I don't see how you could retain one _legally_ if
papers and witnesses were on hand."
"Hon. Ross Wilkins, United States judge, residing in Detroit, can
legally require any fugitive so claimed to be brought before him, and
not allow any thing to be done until the decision is reached. And there
are many active workers to assist escaping slaves in that city, who
would rush to their aid, and in ten minutes see them safe in Canada. I
presume if the slave claimant should come with a score of witnesses and
a half-bushel of papers, to prove his legal right, it would avail him
nothing, as we claim a higher law than wicked enactments of men who
claim the misnomer of law by which bodies and souls of men, women, and
children are claimed as chattels." The proprietor of the boarding hall
desired me to allow him to inform the stranger of our suspicions, and
invite him to leave. But I declined, as I had reached the conclusion
that my visitor was from Kentucky, and probably in search of John
White, whose master had sworn that he would send him as far as wind and
water would carry him if he ever got him again. Professor Patchin and
J. F. Dolbeare called to see him, and conversed with him about his
agency for the _Era_, etc.; and brother Patchin invited him to attend
the recitations of the classes in Latin and geometry. The second was
accepted, as mathematics, he said, was his favorite study.
By four o'clock P.M., the hour of his leaving, the tide of excitement
was fast rising, and one of the students offered to go and inform John
White of the danger we suspected, and advise him to take refuge in
Canada until these Kentuckians should leave our State.
We surmised that the five slave-holders he reported in Toledo were his
own company, which was soon found to be true. One of my horses was
brought into requisition at once for the dispatch-bearer; but he had
not been on his journey an hour before we learned that our Ohio teacher
inquired of a boy on the road if there had been a mulatto man by the
name of White attending school at Raisin Institute the past Winter.
"Yes, sir."
"Where is he now?"
"He hired for the season to Mr. Watkins, near Brooklyn, in Jackson
County."
This report brought another offer to become dispatch-bearer to the
hunted man. The following day found John White in Canada.
Two days after George W. Brazier, who claimed John White as his
property, and the man who had lost the woman and five children, with
their two witnesses, and their lawyer, J. L. Smith, who recently made
me an all-day visit, entered the lowest type of a saloon in the town
near by, and inquired for two of the most besotted and wickedest men in
town. Being directed according to their novel inquiry, the men were
found and hired, making their number seven, to capture John White. The
field in which he had been at work was surrounded by the seven men at
equal distances. But, as they neared the supposed object of their
pursuit, lo! a poor white man was there instead of the prize they were
so sure of capturing. They repaired to the house of Mr. Watkins, and
inquired of him for the whereabouts of John White. The frank reply was:
"I suppose he is in Canada, as I took him, with his trunk, to the
depot, yesterday, for that country."
At this Brazier poured forth a volley of oaths about me, and said he
knew I had been there.
"Hold on, sir, you are laboring under a mistake. We have none of us
seen her; and I want you to understand that there are others, myself
included, who are ready to do as much to save a self-freed slave from
being taken back to Southern bondage as Mrs. Haviland. Mr. White is
highly esteemed wherever he is known; and we would not see him go back
from whence he came without making great effort to prevent it."
At this Brazier flew into a rage, and furiously swore he would yet be
avenged on me before he left the State."
"I advise you to be more sparing of your threats. We have a law here to
arrest and take care of men who make such threats as you have here,"
said Mr. Watkins.
With this quietus they left for Tecumseh, four miles distant from us.
While at Snell's Hotel they displayed on the bar-room table pistols,
dirks, and bowie-knives, and pointing to them, said Brazier, "Here is
what we use, and we'll have the life of that d--d abolitionist, Mrs.
Haviland, before we leave this State, or be avenged on her in some
way." The five men then in haste jumped aboard the stage for Adrian. As
the authorities were informed of these threats, and Judge Stacy was
going to Adrian on business, he proposed to leave with a friend he was
to pass the import of these threats, fearing they might quit the stage
while passing through our neighborhood, and under cover of night commit
their deeds of darkness. I received the note, and told the bearer I
accepted this as the outburst of passion over their defeat, and did not
believe they designed to carry out these threats, and requested the
excited family to keep this as near a secret as possible, during a day
or two at least, to save my children and the school this exciting
anxiety. But I could not appear altogether stoical, and consulted
judicious friends, who advised me to leave my home a night or two at
least. This was the saddest moment I had seen. I felt that I could not
conscientiously leave my home. "If slaveholders wish to call on me they
will find me here, unless I have business away." They insisted that I
should keep my windows closed after dark, and they would send four
young men students, to whom they would tell the secret, with the charge
to keep it unless disturbance should require them to reveal it. We
received information the following day that the five Kentuckians took
the cars for Toledo on their arrival at Adrian. Their threats increased
the excitement already kindled, and neighbors advised me not to remain
in my house of nights, as there might be hired emissaries to execute
their will. Some even advised me to go to Canada for safety. But rest
was mine in Divine Providence.
The following week I accompanied an insane friend with her brother to
Toledo. The brother wished me to go to Monroe on business for them. He
soon informed me that the five Kentuckians were in the same hotel with
us, and he overheard one say that I had no doubts followed them to see
whether they had found any of their runaways, and that one of their
party was going wherever I did to watch my movements. This friend also
saw them consulting with the barkeeper, who sat opposite at breakfast
table, and introduced the defeated stratagem of the Tennessee
slave-holders at the Toledo hotel a few months previously. Said he, "I
believe you are the lady who met them there. Some of us heard of it
soon after, and we should have rushed there in a hurry if there had
been an attempt to take a fugitive from our city. They might as well
attempt to eat through an iron wall as to get one from us. I am an
abolitionist of the Garrison stamp, and there are others here of the
same stripe." And in this familiar style he continued, quite to my
annoyance, at the table. He came to me a number of times after
breakfast to find what he could do to assist me in having the hack take
me to whatever point I wished to go.
"Are you going east, madam?"
"Not today."
"Or are you designing to go south, or to return on the Adrian train?"
"I shall not go in either direction today."
Leaving me a few moments, he returned with inquiring whether I was
going to Monroe, and giving as the reason for his inquiries the wish to
assist me. I informed him I was going to take the ten o'clock boat for
Monroe. I learned in the sequel that they charged me with secreting the
woman and five children, and aiding their flight to Canada; but of them
I knew nothing, until my Ohio teacher informed me of their flight, and
while I was suspected and watched by their pursuers, we had reason to
believe they were placed on a boat at Cleveland, and were safe in
Canada.
We learned that their lawyer made inquiries while in my neighborhood
whether my farm and Raisin Institute were entirely in my hands. When
they became satisfied of the fact they left orders for my arrest upon a
United States warrant, to be served the following Autumn, if they
failed to recover their human property. About the expiration of the
time set George W. Brazier went with a gang of slaves for sale to Baton
Rouge, Louisiana, and died suddenly of cholera. There his projects
ended, and John White soon returned to his work in Michigan.
These circumstances delayed my prospect of going to Cincinnati and
Rising Sun to learn the condition of his family, but as money had been
raised by the anxious husband and father and his friends, I went to
Cincinnati, where I found my friends, Levi Coffin and family. The
vigilant committee was called to his private parlor, to consult as to
the most prudent measure to adopt in securing an interview with Jane
White, John's wife, whose master, Benjamin Stevens, was her father, and
the vain hope was indulged that he would not make an effort to retake
the family should they make a start for freedom. The committee proposed
that I should go to Rising Sun, and, through Joseph Edgerton and Samuel
Barkshire and families, obtain an interview with Jane White, as they
were intelligent and well-to-do colored friends of John White's in
Rising Sun.
Accordingly I went, and called on Joseph Edgerton's eating-house. On
making my errand known, there was great rejoicing over good news from
their esteemed friend Felix White, as John was formerly called. In
conferring with these friends and Samuel Barkshire, they thought the
errand could be taken to Jane, through Stevens's foreman slave,
Solomon, who was frequently allowed to cross the river on business for
his master, and was looked for the following Saturday. But as we were
disappointed, Joseph's wife, Mary Edgerton, proposed to go with me to
Benjamin Stevens's, ostensibly to buy plums. As there was no trace of
African blood perceivable in her, and the Stevens family, both white
and colored, had seen her mother, who was my size, with blue eyes,
straight brown hair, and skin as fair as mine, there was no question as
to relationship when Mary introduced me to Jane and her sister Nan as
Aunt Smith (my maiden name). It was also known to the Stevens family
that Mary was expecting her aunt from Georgia to spend a few weeks with
her. When we entered the basement, which was the kitchen of the Stevens
house, twelve men and women slaves just came in from the harvest-field
for their dinner, which consisted of "corn dodgers" placed in piles at
convenient distances on the bare table, made of two long rough boards
on crossed legs. A large pitcher filled as full as its broken top would
allow of sour milk, and a saucer of greens, with a small piece of pork
cut in thin slices, were divided among the hands, who were seated on
the edge of their table, except a few who occupied stools and broken
chairs. Not a whole earthen dish or plate was on that table. A broken
knife or fork was placed by each plate, and they used each other's
knife or fork, and ate their humble repast with apparent zest. I have
given this harvest dinner in detail, as Benjamin Stevens was called a
remarkably kind master. It was frequently remarked by surrounding
planters "that the Stevens niggers thought they were white."
As we were informed they had no plums for sale, Mary proposed filling
our "buckets" with blackberries, as there were an abundance within a
short distance, and asked Jane if she or Nan could not go and show us
the way. "I'll go an' ask Missus Agnes," replied Nan, who soon returned
with the word that Jane might go, as she wanted to make another batch
of jam. "But she says we must get dinner for Mary and her aunt first."
A small tablecloth was placed over one end of the table, and wheat
bread, butter, honey, and a cream-pitcher of sweet milk was brought
down for us. Not a child of the nine little ones playing in the kitchen
asked for a taste of anything during or after our meal. All that was
left was taken up stairs, and we were invited to call on Mrs. Agnes,
who received us cordially. She was teaching Jane's oldest daughter, of
seven years, to sew. After a few minutes chat with the mistress, we
left for blackberries.
When out of sight, I told Jane I was the one who wrote a letter for her
husband, Felix White, to her, and directed it to Samuel Barkshire, who
told me he read it to her, but did not dare take it from his house, but
took the braid of his hair tied with blue ribbon, sent in the letter.
She looked at me in amazement for a moment, when she burst into a flood
of tears. As soon as she could command her feelings she said her master
had told her that he had heard from Felix, and that he was married
again, and was riding around with his new wife mighty happy. When I
gave her the errand from her husband she was again convulsed with
weeping. Said she, "I would gladly work day and night, until my fingers
and toes are without a nail, and willingly see my children work in the
same way, could we only be with Felix." Poor heartbroken woman, she
sighed like a sobbing child. But two of her children were out a few
miles with one of the Stevens married children, to be gone two months,
and she sent a request to her husband to come on the sly to assist in
bringing their children away after the return of the absent ones, so
that all might go together. I assisted her in picking berries, as she
had spent so much of her time in talking and weeping her mistress might
complain. I gave her a little memento from her husband, and left the
poor heartstricken, crushed spirit.
The daughter and grandchildren of the master withheld them from going
to their natural protector, yet he was called one of the best of
slave-holders. Here was a woman and sister whose widowhood was more
desolate than even death had made my own. And her poor children were
worse than fatherless. I returned to my home and anxious children and
friends.
But the grieved husband felt confident his intimate friend William
Allen, who would have left for freedom long ago but for his wife and
child, would assist Jane and the children could he know from him how
many warm friends there were in the North to assist them. His friends,
as well as himself, were anxious to make another trial without the risk
of his going into the lion's den. Means being provided, three mouths
later found me again in Rising Sun. After a little waiting to see
William Allen, I took a boat and went four miles below on the Kentucky
side, and called at the house of his master to wait for a boat going up
the river within a few hours.
As they were having a great excitement over counterfeiters, and were
making great efforts to find the rogues, and looking upon every
stranger with suspicion, I was believed by my host to be one of them in
disguise. Within an hour after my arrival the sheriff and a deputy were
brought into an adjoining room. The lady of the house appeared excited.
Her little girl inquired who those strange gentlemen were; she replied
the sheriff and his deputy. I looked up from the paper I was busily
reading, and entered into conversation with the lady of the house, when
I overhead one man say, "I don't think there is anything wrong about
that woman." This remark led me to suppose I might be the object of the
undertone conversation among the gentlemen in the adjoining room. Soon
after the three gentlemen came into the room, with whom I passed the
usual "good afternoon." One, whom I took to be the sheriff, made a few
remarks over fine weather, etc., and all three returned to their room.
Said one, in a low voice, "I tell you that woman is all right; she's no
counterfeiter." My excited hostess became calm, and quite social, and
made excuses for having to look after the cooking of her turkey, as she
allowed her cook to spend this Sabbath with her husband in visiting one
of their friends. "And I always burn and blister my hands whenever I
make an attempt at cooking. But my cook is so faithful I thought I
would let her go today."
As I gave up the idea of seeing William Allen, I was about to go to the
wharf-boat and wait there for the five o'clock boat. But she urged me
to take dinner with them, as I would have plenty of time. After dinner
they directed me across a pasture-field that would shorten the
half-mile. Just out of sight of the house I met William Allen, with his
wife and little girl of ten years. As they were so well described by
John--or Felix, as he was here known--I recognized them, and gave the
message from their friend, from whom they rejoiced to hear. He said he
longed to be free, and thought two weeks from that day he could go over
to Samuel Barkshire's to see me. During this time he would deliver the
message to Jane. At present, he said, it would be very difficult
crossing, as there was great excitement over men that passed a lot of
counterfeit money in that neighborhood, and they were watching for
them. I told him it was not safe for us to talk longer there, as they
were slaves, and I was not free to be seen talking with them, and gave
them the parting hand, informing them that many prayers of Christian
people of the North were daily ascending for the deliverance of the
slave. "May God grant the answer!" was the heartfelt reply.
During the two weeks Mary Scott was introduced, who had recently bought
herself, with her free husband's aid. She related to me the sad
condition of her sister, Rachel Beach, who was the slave of Mr. Ray,
the brother of Wright Ray, of Madison, Indiana, the noted negro
catcher. She was the kept mistress of her master, who held her and her
five children, who were his own flesh and blood, as his property. After
her sister Rachel's religious experience, she was much distressed over
the life she was compelled to lead with her master. She had often wept
with her weeping sister. When she thought of escaping, she could not
leave her five little children to her own sad fate. As I was informed
that Mary Scott was a reliable Christian woman, I gave her a plan, and
names of persons and places of safety, with a charge not to stop over
the second night--if possible, to avoid it--at the first place named;
for it was too near her master's brother, Wright Ray, as he would make
great efforts to retake them.
This plan was adopted. But they were kept two days at Luther Donald's
station, which brought them into great difficulty. He was so well known
as the slave's friend it was unsafe to secrete fugitives on his own
premises; and he placed them in an out-house of one of his friends. On
the second night of their flight, when they were to be taken to the
next station, Wright Ray was on their track, and entered the
neighborhood at dark twilight, filling it with excitement on the part
of both friends and foes. The cry of a child brought a neighbor to
their hiding-place, who told her she was unsafe; but he would take her
and the children to his barn, where they would be perfectly secure.
Soon after her new friend left her she felt in great danger, and when
her children were asleep in their bed of stalls she ventured to place
herself by the road-side. Here she heard horses coming, and listened to
hear the voice of their riders, to see if she could recognize her first
friends, as they had told her they were going to take them to another
place of safety that night; but, to her grief, she heard the voice of
Wright Ray, with his posse. Filled with fear of capture, she groped her
way still farther back in the dark. After her pursuers passed she heard
two men coming, in low conversation. She prayed for direction, and felt
impressed, as she said, to tell these men her trouble. They proved to
be her friends, who missed them as they went to take their suppers. As
Ray and his company were known to be in town, they knew not but they
were captured. Runners were sent to the usual resorts of slave-hunters,
to see if any clew could be learned of the fate of the missing family.
"O, how I prayed God to deliver me in this my great distress!" she
said, in relating her flight in my interview with her in Canada. She
led her two friends to the barn, from whence her sleeping children were
removed; but by the time they reached the road they saw the lantern,
and heard rustling of stalks by her pursuers. As her new friend was a
well-known friend to slave-hunters, she and her children were still in
great danger. She was dressed in men's clothing, and her girls dressed
like boys, and they were taken out in different directions. Rachel and
the youngest child her guide took to a Quaker neighborhood, while two
men took each two girls on their horses and took different roads to
other places of safety; but no two of the three parties knew of the
others' destination. Two days of distressing anxiety were passed before
a word reached the mother from her children. Not knowing but they were
back to their old Kentucky home, she could neither eat nor sleep for
weeping and praying over the probable loss of her children. But her joy
could not find expression when two of them were brought to her. At
first sight of her darlings, she cried out, "Glory to God! he has sent
me two more. But where, O, where are the other two?" The two men who
brought these in their close carriage could give no tidings, as they
had heard nothing from them since leaving Donald Station. Rachel
continued weeping for her children because they were not. On the
following day they were heard from, and that they would be brought on
the following day, P. M.
A number of the neighbors were invited to witness the meeting. Among
them was a strong pro-slavery man and his family, who had often said
the abolitionists might as well come to his barn and steal his horse or
wheat as to keep slave-holders out of their slave property; yet he was
naturally a sympathetic man. This Quaker abolitionist knew it would do
him good to witness the anticipated scene. The knowledge of the
prospective arrival of the children was carefully kept from the mother
until she saw them, coming through the gate, when she cried aloud, as
she sank on the floor, "Glory; hallelujah to the Lamb! You sent me
all." She sobbed as she clasped them to her bosom, continuing, in an
ecstasy, "Bless the Lord forever! He is so good to poor me." The little
girls threw their arms around their mother's neck, and burst into a
loud cry for joy. "But the weeping was not confined to them," said our
Quaker sister, who was present. "There was not a dry eye in that house;
and our pro-slavery neighbor cried as hard as any of us."
After the excitement died away a little, said one, "Now, we must adopt
a plan to take this family on to Canada."
The pro-slavery man was the first to say, "I'll take my team, and take
them where they'll be safe, if I have to take them all the way."
Another said, "It is cold weather, and we see these children have bare
feet; and we must see about getting them stockings and shoes and warm
clothing."
And the little daughter of him who had so generously offered his
services in aiding this family beyond the reach, of danger sat down on
the carpet and commenced taking off hers, saying, "She can have mine."
"But, Lotty, what will you do?" said the mother.
"O, papa can get me some more."
"Yes, papa will get you some more," said her father, wiping his eyes;
"and your shoes and stockings will just fit that little girl." And the
mother could hardly keep her from leaving them. But she told her to
wear them home and put others on, then bring them back.
Said our informant, "I will warrant that man will hereafter become a
stockholder."
But the rescue of the Beach family cost Luther Donald his farm. He was
sued and found guilty of harboring runaway slaves and assisting them to
escape. But not one sentence of truthful evidence was brought against
him in court; although he did aid the Beach family when a stay of three
minutes longer in their dangerous hiding-place would have secured their
return to a life of degradation. Friends of the fugitive made up the
loss in part, and the God of the oppressed blessed him still more
abundantly. He was diligent in business, serving the Lord.
While rejoicing over the safe arrival of the Beach family in Canada,
heavy tidings reached me from home. In a letter I was informed of the
illness of my eldest son. Before the boat arrived that was to bear me
homeward a second letter came with the sad intelligence of the death of
my first-born. Oh, how my poor heart was wrung with anxiety to learn
the state of his mind as he left the shores of time. Why did not the
writer relieve me by giving the information I most needed? And yet I
was advised to remain until the weather became more mild. I had a
severe cough that followed an attack of pneumonia, and physicians had
advised me to spend the Winter in a milder climate. But this
bereavement seemed impelling me to return to my afflicted children. But
more than all other considerations was to learn the state of that dear
child's mind as he was about leaving the land of the dying for the
spirit world of the living. He had been a living Christian, but during
the year past had become more inactive, and in a conversation on the
subject a few days previous to my leaving, he expressed regrets in not
being more faithful. He urged me to take this trip, yet I could not but
regret leaving home. "Oh my son, my son Harvey would to God I had died
for thee!" In this distress, bordering upon agony of soul, I walked my
room to and fro, praying for an evidence of his condition. In the
conversation above alluded to he expressed a sincere desire to return.
Said he, "I am too much like the prodigal, too far away from my
Savior." How vividly did his words come before me! Oh, how these words
ran through my mind in this hour of sore trial. Is this the Isaac, I
dwelt upon as I was leaving my home, that I may be called to sacrifice?
I had in mind my son Daniel, who was fearful I would meet trouble from
slave-holders, as he remarked to his brother Harvey, "Mother is a
stranger to fear, though she might be in great danger."
"That fact, seems to me, secures her safety," replied Harvey.
As I overheard this conversation I shrank from the trial of leaving my
home circle, in which death had made such inroads, and for the time
being doubted whether I was called upon to make the sacrifice. But
prayer was now constant for an evidence of my son's condition, whether
prepared for exchange of worlds. He who spake peace to the troubled sea
granted the answer of peace, with an assurance that my prayer was
answered, and that in his own good time he would make it manifest.
I took the boat for Cincinnati, and on the morning after my arrival at
the home of my valued friends, Levi Coffin and wife, I awoke with a
comforting dream, which but for the circumstances I would not record. I
find in the written Word of divine truth that God, at sundry times,
made himself known to his faithful servants in dreams. And he is the
same in all ages, in answering their petitions and meeting their wants.
In the dream I thought I was living in the basement of a beautiful
mansion. Being rather dark, damp, and cool, I looked for some means of
warming my apartments, when I discovered the windows conveyed beautiful
rays of sunlight sufficient to dry and warm apartments designed for
only a temporary residence, as my future home was to be in the splendid
apartments above, which I was not to be permitted to enter until the
work assigned me in the basement was done. While busily engaged in
sweeping my room, and arranging my work, I saw my son Harvey,
descending from the upper portion of this limitless mansion, which I
thought was now his home. I hastened to the door to meet him. As the
thought struck me that he had been a slave, I cried out, "My son
Harvey, art thou free?"
"Oh yes, mother, I am _free_; and I knew your anxiety, and I came on
purpose to tell you that I went to my Master and asked if he would
grant my pardon? And he looked upon me and saw me in my blood as I
plowed in the field, and he said I should be free and live."
"Oh, what a relief is this glad news," I replied.
"I knew you desired me to go for my freedom long ago, but I did not
know that my liberty would be so easily granted--just for asking. I am
now free, indeed."
This message delivered, he ascended to his glorious home above. I awoke
with the words of this message as clearly impressed upon my mind as if
vocally spoken. I opened the Bible at the head of my bed, and the first
words that met my eye were these: "I saw Ephraim cast out in the open
field; I saw him in his blood, and I said live; and he shall live."
With promises given by him with whom there is no variableness or shadow
of turning, my heart was filled with praise and thanksgiving for the
Comforter who grants peace such as the world knows not of. Very soon a
letter came with the detailed account of the last hours of my son
Harvey, in which he left a bright evidence of his preparation for the
future life. He sent for Rev. John Patchin, of Raisin Institute, of
whom he requested prayer; at the close of which he followed in fervent
prayer for himself and loved ones. Then brother Patchin inquired if
perfect peace was his at this hour? "It is," he answered; "I am ready
to go," and he soon fell asleep in Jesus.
I remained a few weeks longer; but the close search for counterfeiters
made it difficult for William Allen to cross.
The request was repeated by John White's wife for him to come for them.
I returned home with the consciousness of having done all that I could
in delivering the messages as requested. The husband and father could
not feel reconciled to give up his family to a life of slavery, and
went for them, and brought them a few miles on the Indiana side, above
Rising Sun. They secreted themselves during the day in the woods, and
with the aid of his friend and Solomon Stevens's slave, previously
alluded to, who was also attempting to escape with the family, he made
a raft upon which they were about to cross a creek to reach the team on
the opposite side. Suddenly six armed men pounced upon them, and
captured the family, with Solomon. To save John from the hazardous
attempt to defend his family, his friend held him back in the thicket,
knowing the effort must fail. As he was not allowed to move he sank
back in despair in the arms of his friend. He had risked his own life
and liberty in his attempt to rescue them. He learned that George W.
Brazier swore he would chop him into inches if he ever got possession
of him again. After his unsuccessful effort in Michigan he offered six
hundred dollars for his head, dead or alive. Benjamin Stevens also
offered six hundred dollars reward for his daughter and his five
grandchildren, with Solomon. He afterwards sold them all for the very
low price of one thousand dollars, with the proviso that they were not
to be sold apart.
But poor Jane was not left long to grieve over her disappointed hopes.
She died of cholera. We heard she went rejoicing in that hope that
reaches beyond the vale. They were taken to Lexington, Kentucky, but
the grieved husband and father again made his way northward. He was two
weeks in reaching a settlement that was said to be friendly to fugitive
slaves. Forty miles distant from his old Kentucky home he assumed the
name of James Armstrong. The family upon whom he ventured to call
appeared very kind, and the man told him he would take him the next day
to a Quaker settlement, but he suspected he was reported to Wright Ray
and posse, who came into the house and bound him. Placing him on one of
their horses, they took him through fields and back roads until they
crossed the Ohio river, and lodged him in the Woodford jail, a short
distance from the river, nearly opposite Madison, Indiana. Wright Ray
had no idea of having in his possession John White, who had so recently
eluded his grasp in his unsuccessful trip with Brazier in Michigan. He
found among his papers in which were advertisements of escaped slaves,
Henry Armstrong advertised as belonging to the widow Armstrong, of
Maysville, Kentucky. With her Wright Ray had an interview, hoping to
arrange for the reward, which she refused to give, for he had been away
so long, he would be of little use, as Henry was willed free at her
death. But she told him if he could get enough from him to pay him for
his trouble, he might do so. Consequently he made him an offer to
release him for four hundred dollars, and encouraged him to write to
his friends in Michigan to aid him to that amount. He wrote to a
son-in-law of Mr. Watkins, so as not to mention a name of persons the
men had to do with in Michigan, and the letter was brought to us. We
all understood the writer to be our friend John White.
A few friends were consulted as to the measures to be adopted. It was
proposed that I should go to Cincinnati, and there make such
arrangements as the friends might think proper. As they proposed to
bear my expenses, I said, "If you send me, I shall go to-morrow
morning."
"But," replied the bearer of the letter, "as it is the Sabbath, I
suppose I should hesitate."
"It was lawful on the Sabbath to lift a sheep out of the ditch in the
days of Moses, and is not a man better than a sheep?"
"I can not answer you. All I have to say is, follow the dictates of
your own conscience."
I took the stage at Toledo, and in three days I was consulting the
vigilance committee in Levi Coffin's council chamber. As it would not
do for me to transact business with Wright Ray, Micajah White, nephew
of Catherine Coffin, offered to go as soon as the money was obtained.
Levi Coffin introduced me to Dr. Judkins, of whom I hired the money,
but hoped to lessen the amount if possible, in the arrangement with
Wright Ray. I urged on the nephew the necessity of taking the first
boat for Madison, as every hour endangered the safety of John White.
Whatever was done for him must be done quickly. Wright Ray was found
very willing to accept three hundred and fifty dollars, which was
placed in the hands of the clerk of the boat until his prisoner was
delivered to his friends in Cincinnati, when Micajah White agreed to
see the money paid to Wright Ray. This was done, and within three weeks
from the time I left home I returned with John White. The day after
John's release Brazier appeared at the jail, having heard that he was
there. But he was too late.
A few months after John White's release from Woodford jail George W.
Brazier went to Baton Rouge, Louisiana, with a gang of slaves for sale,
and suddenly died of cholera, just before the time fixed for his
return. It was said he intended to make a second effort to capture John
White, or to arrest me with United States warrant. Time rolled on, and
John F. White married a young woman in Canada, his home a number of
years. After the late war he removed to Ann Arbor, Michigan, to educate
his children. When we last heard of his first children, his oldest
daughter was married to Solomon, the ex-slave of Benjamin Stevens. We
rejoice that brighter days are dawning. Ethiopia is stretching out her
hands to God.