From her resting-place by the trader chased,
Through the winter evening cold,
Eliza came with her boy at last,
Where a broad deep river rolled.
Great blocks of the floating ice were there,
And the water's roar was wild,
But the cruel trader's step was near,
Who would take her only child.
Poor Harry clung around her neck,
But a word he could not say,
For his very heart was faint with fear,
And with flying all that day.
Her arms about the boy grew tight,
With a loving clasp, and brave;
"Hold fast! Hold fast, now, Harry dear,
And it may be God will save."
From the river's bank to the floating ice
She took a sudden bound,
And the great block swayed beneath her feet
With a dull and heavy sound.
So over the roaring rushing flood,
From block to block she sprang,
And ever her cry for God's good help
Above the waters rang.
And God did hear that mother's cry,
For never an ice-block sank;
While the cruel trader and his men
Stood wondering on the bank.
A good man saw on the farther side,
And gave her his helping hand;
So poor Eliza, with her boy,
Stood safe upon the land.
A blessing on that good man's arm,
On his house, and field, and store;
May he never want a friendly hand
To help him to the shore!
A blessing on all that make such haste,
Whatever their hands can do!
For they that succour the sore distressed,
Our Lord will help them too.
When the two negroes saw Eliza's escape, they began to laugh and cheer;
on which the trader chased them with his horsewhip, cursing and swearing
as usual. But he could not get over the river, and went in very bad
temper to spend that night at the little inn, determined to get a boat,
if possible, and catch Harry in the morning. The man who had helped
Eliza up the river's bank, showed her a pretty white house at some
distance, where a kind gentleman and his wife lived. The dark night had
fallen, the tea-cups were on the table, and the fires were bright in
kitchen and parlour, when the poor mother, all wet and weary, her feet
cut by the sharp ice (for she had lost her shoes in the river), walked
in, with Harry still in her arms. Before she could ask for shelter, she
dropped down fainting on the floor. The good people of the house
thought she was dead, and raised a terrible alarm. Mr. and Mrs. Bird ran
into the kitchen to see what had happened. They were good, kind people,
and great in that place, for Mr. Bird was a member of the American
Parliament. He kept slaves himself, and tried to think it was no sin. He
had even been trying that very night, in conversation with his wife, to
defend a law lately passed, which forbade any one to give shelter to
poor runaway slaves. But Mrs. Bird would listen to no defence of such a
law, and said, "It is a shameful, wicked, and abominable law, and I'll
break it for one the first time I have a chance, and I hope I shall have
a chance too. I know nothing about politics, but I can read my Bible,
and there I see that I must feed the hungry, clothe the naked, and
comfort the desolate; and that Bible I mean to follow. No, no, John,
said she, you may talk all night, but you would not do what you say.
Would you now turn away a poor, shivering, hungry creature from your
door because he was a runaway? Would you, now?"
Now, if the truth must be told, Mr. Bird was a very kind man, and could
not in his heart give a very decided reply to his wife; and it was just
at this moment that poor Eliza and little Harry came to his door. As we
said, Mr. and Mrs. Bird ran to the kitchen to see what had happened.
They found poor Eliza just recovering from her faint. She stared wildly
round her for a moment, and then sprang to her feet, saying, "Oh! my
Harry! have you got him?" The boy at this ran to her, and put his arms
round her neck. "Oh! he's here, he's here!" she exclaimed. And then she
cried wildly to Mrs. Bird, "O, ma'am, do protect us, don't let them get
him!"
"Nobody shall hurt you here, poor woman," said Mrs. Bird. "You are safe;
don't be afraid."
"God bless you," said the woman, covering her face and sobbing, while
poor little Harry, seeing her crying, tried to get into her lap.
With many gentle and womanly offices which no one knew better how to
render than Mrs. Bird, the poor woman was rendered more calm. A
temporary bed was provided for her near the fire; and after a short
time, Eliza, faint and weary with her long journey, fell into a heavy
slumber, with little Harry soundly sleeping on her arm.
"I wonder who and what she is," said Mr. Bird, when he had gone back to
the parlour with his wife.
"When she wakes and feels a little rested, we shall see," said Mrs.
Bird, who began to busy herself with her knitting.
Mr. Bird took up a newspaper, and pretended to be reading it, but it was
not long before he turned to his wife and said, "I say, wife, couldn't
she wear one of your gowns; and there's that old cloak that you keep on
purpose to put over me when I take my afternoon's nap, you might give
her that; she needs clothes."
Mrs. Bird simply replied, "We'll see;" but a quiet smile passed over her
face as she remembered the conversation they had had together that very
night before Eliza and little Harry came to their door.
After an hour or two, Eliza awoke, and Mr. and Mrs. Bird again went to
the kitchen. As they entered, poor Eliza lifted her dark eyes, and fixed
them on Mrs. Bird, with such a forlorn and imploring expression, that
the tears came into the kind-hearted woman's eyes.
"You need not be afraid of anything; we are friends here, poor woman!
Tell me where you came from, and what you want?" said she.
"I came from Kentucky," said poor Eliza.
"And what induced you to run away?" said Mrs. Bird.
The woman looked up with a keen, scrutinising glance, and it did not
escape her that Mrs. Bird was dressed in deep mourning.
"Ma'am," she said, suddenly, "have you ever lost a child?"
The question was unexpected, and it was a thrust on a new wound; for it
was only a month since a darling child of the family had been laid in
the grave.
Mr. Bird turned round and walked to the window, and Mrs. Bird burst into
tears; but, recovering her voice, she said--
"Why do you ask that? I have lost a little one."
"Then you will feel for me. I have lost two, one after another--left
them buried there when I came away; and I had only this one left. I
never slept a night without him; he was all I had. He was my comfort and
pride day and night; and, ma'am, they were going to take him away from
me--to _sell_ him--a baby that had never been away from his mother in
his life! I couldn't stand it, ma'am. I knew I never should be good for
anything if they did; and when I knew the papers were signed and he was
sold, I took him and came off in the night, and they chased me--the man
that bought him and some of master's folks, and they were coming down
right behind me, and I heard them--I jumped right on to the ice, and how
I got across I don't know, but first I knew a man was helping me up the
bank."
"Crossed on the ice?" cried every one present.
"Yes," said poor Eliza, slowly. "I did, God helping me. I crossed on the
ice, for they were behind me--right behind--and there was no other way!"
All around were affected to tears by Eliza's story.
Mr. Bird himself, to hide his feelings, had to turn away, and became
particularly busy in wiping his spectacle-glasses and blowing his nose.