A wicked slaveholder from Kentucky, stopping at the Revere House, has
dared to insult the liberty-loving people of Boston by bringing his
slave into their midst. Shall this be tolerated? Or shall steps be taken
in the name of liberty to rescue a fellow-man from bondage? For obvious
reasons I can only sign myself,
A Friend of Humanity.
That his letter might have an opportunity to prove effective, Dick made
it a point to send Grandison away from the hotel on various errands. On
one of these occasions Dick watched him for quite a distance down the
street. Grandison had scarcely left the hotel when a long-haired,
sharp-featured man came out behind him, followed him, soon overtook him,
and kept along beside him until they turned the next corner. Dick's
hopes were roused by this spectacle, but sank correspondingly when
Grandison returned to the hotel. As Grandison said nothing about the
encounter, Dick hoped there might be some self-consciousness behind this
unexpected reticence, the results of which might develop later on.
But Grandison was on hand again when his master came back to the hotel
at night, and was in attendance again in the morning, with hot water, to
assist at his master's toilet. Dick sent him on further errands from day
to day, and upon one occasion came squarely up to him--inadvertently of
course--while Grandison was engaged in conversation with a young white
man in clerical garb. When Grandison saw Dick approaching, he edged away
from the preacher and hastened toward his master, with a very evident
expression of relief upon his countenance.
"Mars Dick," he said, "dese yer abolitioners is jes' pesterin' de life
out er me tryin' ter git me ter run away. I don' pay no 'tention ter
'em, but dey riles me so sometimes dat I 'm feared I 'll hit some of 'em
some er dese days, an' dat mought git me inter trouble. I ain' said
nuffin' ter you 'bout it, Mars Dick, fer I did n' wanter 'sturb yo'
min'; but I don' like it, suh; no, suh, I don'! Is we gwine back home
'fo' long, Mars Dick?"
"We 'll be going back soon enough," replied Dick somewhat shortly, while
he inwardly cursed the stupidity of a slave who could be free and would
not, and registered a secret vow that if he were unable to get rid of
Grandison without assassinating him, and were therefore compelled to
take him back to Kentucky, he would see that Grandison got a taste of an
article of slavery that would make him regret his wasted opportunities.
Meanwhile he determined to tempt his servant yet more strongly.
"Grandison," he said next morning, "I 'm going away for a day or two,
but I shall leave you here. I shall lock up a hundred dollars in this
drawer and give you the key. If you need any of it, use it and enjoy
yourself,--spend it all if you like,--for this is probably the last
chance you 'll have for some time to be in a free State, and you 'd
better enjoy your liberty while you may."
When he came back a couple of days later and found the faithful
Grandison at his post, and the hundred dollars intact, Dick felt
seriously annoyed. His vexation was increased by the fact that he could
not express his feelings adequately. He did not even scold Grandison;
how could he, indeed, find fault with one who so sensibly recognized his
true place in the economy of civilization, and kept it with such
touching fidelity?
"I can't say a thing to him," groaned Dick. "He deserves a leather
medal, made out of his own hide tanned. I reckon I 'll write to father
and let him know what a model servant he has given me."
He wrote his father a letter which made the colonel swell with pride and
pleasure. "I really think," the colonel observed to one of his friends,
"that Dick ought to have the nigger interviewed by the Boston papers, so
that they may see how contented and happy our darkeys really are."
Dick also wrote a long letter to Charity Lomax, in which he said, among
many other things, that if she knew how hard he was working, and under
what difficulties, to accomplish something serious for her sake, she
would no longer keep him in suspense, but overwhelm him with love and
admiration.
Having thus exhausted without result the more obvious methods of
getting rid of Grandison, and diplomacy having also proved a failure,
Dick was forced to consider more radical measures. Of course he might
run away himself, and abandon Grandison, but this would be merely to
leave him in the United States, where he was still a slave, and where,
with his notions of loyalty, he would speedily be reclaimed. It was
necessary, in order to accomplish the purpose of his trip to the North,
to leave Grandison permanently in Canada, where he would be legally
free.
"I might extend my trip to Canada," he reflected, "but that would be too
palpable. I have it! I 'll visit Niagara Falls on the way home, and lose
him on the Canada side. When he once realizes that he is actually free,
I 'll warrant that he 'll stay."
So the next day saw them westward bound, and in due course of time, by
the somewhat slow conveyances of the period, they found themselves at
Niagara. Dick walked and drove about the Falls for several days, taking
Grandison along with him on most occasions. One morning they stood on
the Canadian side, watching the wild whirl of the waters below them.
"Grandison," said Dick, raising his voice above the roar of the
cataract, "do you know where you are now?"
"I 's wid you, Mars Dick; dat 's all I keers."
"You are now in Canada, Grandison, where your people go when they run
away from their masters. If you wished, Grandison, you might walk away
from me this very minute, and I could not lay my hand upon you to take
you back."
Grandison looked around uneasily.
"Let 's go back ober de ribber, Mars Dick. I 's feared I 'll lose you
ovuh heah, an' den I won' hab no marster, an' won't nebber be able to
git back home no mo'."