"And where do you mean to go to, my poor woman?"
"To Canada if I only knew where that was. Is it very far off ma'am?"
said she, looking up with a simple and confiding air to Mrs. Bird's
face.
"Poor woman," said Mrs. Bird, "it is much further off than you think;
but we will try to think what can be done for you. Here Dinah," said she
to one of the servants, "make her up a bed in your own room close by the
kitchen, and I'll think what to do for her in the morning. Meanwhile,
never fear poor woman, put your trust in God, He will protect you."
Mrs. Bird and her husband re-entered the parlour. She sat down in her
little rocking chair before the fire, swinging it thoughtfully to and
fro. Mr. Bird strode up and down the room, grumbling to himself. At
length, striding up to his wife, he said:--
"I say, wife, she'll have to get away from here this very night. That
trader fellow will be down after her early to-morrow morning."
"To-night," said Mrs. Bird, "how is it possible--and where to?"
"Well, I know pretty well where to," said Mr. Bird, beginning to put on
his boots. "I know a place where she would be safe enough, but the
plague of the thing is, nobody could drive a carriage there to-night but
me. The creek has to be crossed twice, and the second crossing is quite
dangerous, unless one know it as I do. But never mind. I'll take her
over myself. There is no help for it. I could not bear to see the poor
woman caught."
"Thank you, thank you, dear John," said the wife, laying her white hand
on his--"Could I ever have loved you had I not known you better than you
do yourself?"
Off Mr. Bird set to see about the carriage, but at the door he stopped
for a moment, and then coming back, he said, with a quivering voice,--
"Mary, I don't know how you'd feel about it, but there's the drawer full
of things--of--of--poor little Henry's." So saying, he turned quickly on
his heel, and shut the door after him.
His wife opened the little bedroom door adjoining her room, and taking
the candle, set it down on the top of a bureau there; then from a small
recess she took a key, and put it thoughtfully in the lock of a drawer,
and made a sudden pause, while two boys, who, boy-like, had followed
close on her heels, stood looking, with silent, significant glances, at
their mother. And oh! mother that reads this, has there never been in
your house a drawer, or a closet, the opening of which has been to you
like the opening again of a little grave? Ah! happy mother that you are,
if it has not been so!
Mrs. Bird slowly opened the drawer. There were little coats of many a
form and pattern, piles of aprons, and rows of small stockings; and even
a pair of little shoes, worn and rubbed at the toes, were peeping from
the folds of a paper. There was a toy horse and waggon, a top, a
ball--memorials gathered with many a tear and many a heartbreak! She sat
down by the drawer, and leaning her head on her hands over it, wept till
the tears fell through her fingers into the drawer; then suddenly
raising her head, she began, with nervous haste, selecting the plainest
and most substantial articles, and gathering them into a bundle.
"Mamma," said one of the boys, gently touching her arm, "are you going
to give away those things?"
"My dear boys," she said, softly and earnestly, "if our dear, loving,
little Henry looks down from heaven, he would be glad to have us do
this. I could not find it in my heart to give them away to any common
person--to anybody that was happy; but I give them to a mother more
heart-broken and sorrowful than I am; and I hope God will send his
blessings with them!"
Mr. Bird returned about twelve o'clock with the carriage. "Mary," said
he, coming in with his overcoat in his hand, you must wake her up now.
"We must be off." Soon arrayed in a cloak, bonnet, and shawl that had
belonged to her benefactress, poor Eliza appeared at the door with her
child in her arms. When she got seated in the carriage, she fixed her
large dark eyes on Mrs. Bird's face, and seemed going to speak. Her lips
moved, but there was no sound; pointing upward with a look never to be
forgotten, she fell back in her seat and covered her face. The door was
shut, and the carriage drove on.
It was not long before they arrived at the place where Mr. Bird thought
they would be safe from the cruel trader. It was a village about seven
miles off, consisting of neat houses, with orchards and meadows about
them.
They all belonged to Quakers, a sect of Christians whom foolish people
laugh at, because they think it right to wear broad-brimmed hats, and
odd old-fashioned bonnets; but they do many good and charitable things,
especially for the poor negroes, and one of them took Harry and his
mother in.
I cannot tell all the kindness the Quaker and his family did to them,
giving Harry such good things, and watching lest the trader should come
that way; but the greatest joy of all was, one evening, when a tall
strong man, called Phineas Fletcher, who was a Quaker, and a great
traveller, guided to the village Harry's poor father, George. His master
was going to sell him too, and he had run away, and searched everywhere
for his wife and child, to take them with him to Canada, which you know
belongs to England. Oh what a happy meeting that was between George,
Eliza, and little Harry.
But they could not remain long with the kind Quakers. Their cruel
pursuers had found out where they were hid, so they had all to set out
again together. This time they were guided by the brave-hearted Phineas
Fletcher, and hoped to reach Canada in safety. But their pursuers
overtook them, and they had to run to the rocks to defend themselves, as
the verses will tell.