STATIE LINES.
I.
It was in the decade of the forties that an enterprising farmer, named
Barbour, of the Empire State, said to his neighbor, “Smith, I’ve a
project in my head.”
“Nothing strange in that,” was the response; “I never knew the time when
you didn’t have one; but what is it?”
“Well, you know I spent a few days about Washington recently, and I
believe there is money to be made in going into its vicinity and buying
up some of the worn-out farms and applying to them our agricultural
methods, and raising products specially for the city market.”
“What can they be purchased for?”
“Anywhere from $5.00 to $10.00 an acre, any amount of them. I tell you
there’s money in it.”
“But it would be to ostracise one’s self. You know that there they
consider it a disgrace for a white man to labor.”
“All right. All I propose is head work.”
“How is that? Democrat as you are, I don’t believe you would go so far
as to invest in slaves.”
“No, indeed. I am fully satisfied that slavery is the curse of the
South, yet it exists there, and I am bound to make some money out of it
and its fruits. You see the land has been rendered worthless by slave
labor in the hands of the masters, hence the extremely low price of it.
As a result of the deteriorated condition of their farms, the owners of
slaves are now hiring them out for wages which range much lower than
with us here in New York. Whilst loathing slavery in the abstract, I
confess I propose to use it for a while on wages, if some of my
neighbors will join me in a purchase, so we can have a little society of
our own. Will you take a hand, Smith?”
“I’ll think of it.”
As a result of the above conversation there were purchased in a few
weeks seven or eight worn-out farms in the immediate vicinity of
Washington, and in a short time they were occupied by as many sterling
families from Onondaga county, N. Y. Modern methods of agriculture were
applied, fertilizers were abundantly used, and though slave labor was
extensively employed the fields soon yielded luxuriantly, and everything
was at high tide with the newcomers, disturbed only by the twinges of
conscience at the employment of southern chattel.
Among those who furnished these, was a Mr. Lines, residing just across
the Potomac, in Virginia. Of him Mr. Barbour hired a number of slaves,
among them a woman named Statie, nearly white, who was the mother of an
amiable little girl six or seven years of age, bearing a close
resemblance to the children belonging in the Lines mansion. This woman
had the privilege of hiring herself out on condition of paying her
master $10 per month and clothing herself and child. This she did
cheerfully, laying by what she could, under the hope of being able
ultimately to buy the freedom of her little girl, Lila, who was
permitted to be with her at Mr. Barbour’s where mother and child were
both very kindly and considerately treated.
The excellent qualities of Statie as a cook having been noised about,
her services were sought for a Washington hotel where much higher wages
were paid than Mr. Barbour could afford and he advised her to go, as a
means of the sooner freeing her child, which was consequently
transferred to the home of her _owner_, where her services could now be
made of some little avail.
At the end of a quarter Statie was permitted to visit home, where she
soon learned through a fellow slave that a dealer had been negotiating
for Lila and that at his return in a few weeks a price was to be fixed
and he was to take her. The heart of the mother was wrung with agony,
but the soul of the heroine rose triumphant and she went into the
presence of Mr. Lines with a smile upon her face and the cheery words,
“Here, Master, are your thirty dollars, and I’ve half as many laid by
for the purchase of Lila,” upon her lips.
“Indeed, Statie, you’ve done well. It won’t be long till I’ll have to
give the little doll up if you go on at this rate.”
“I hope not, master, for I long to see the darling with her free papers
in hand.”
With a lying effort, the master replied, “I hope you may succeed, for I
would much sooner sell her to you than to any one else, and I shall wait
on you as long as possible.”
Expressing her thanks for what she knew was a hypocritical promise,
Statie asked that the child might be allowed to accompany her to the
capital for a few days, a request readily granted by Mr. Lines that he
might the more easily avert any suspicion of his real purpose.
Cutting short her visit, Statie soon started with her child for the
city, but walked several miles out of her way to lay her troubles before
Mr. and Mrs. Barbour, who were greatly shocked at the revelation. Though
depreciating anything in the line of _underground_ work, Mr. Barbour, to
whom Lila had specially endeared herself by her childish ingenuousness,
after a few moments reflection said, “Wife, you know I propose making a
journey across Pennsylvania soon to the vicinity of our old home. Will
there be any harm in my seeing that Lila gets there?”
“No, husband; and you have my permission to see that Statie goes too. I
don’t think your politics ought to cripple your humanity, much less your
religion. _Do unto others as ye would that they should do unto you._”
Mr. Barbour’s mind was soon made up, and Statie was dismissed with
instructions to meet him on a by-road a little way out from the old
north burial ground soon after dark on the Wednesday evening following.
In arranging for his proposed trip, Mr. Barbour had provided himself
with a good team and a “Jersey wagon” well covered with oil cloth,
supported by bows. In this wagon he placed a high box so cut down in
front as to furnish a seat for himself, and so arranged that a person
could sit upright in the hinder part with feet projecting forward. To
the rear of this box, were attached doors, secured by a padlock whilst a
good supply of straw, clothing and provisions were placed within. When
all else was ready, the Jersey was labeled “Clocks,” and Wednesday night
Mr. Barbour drove out to the point of rendezvous where Statie and Lila
were found waiting, they were immediately placed in their extemporized
_retreat_ and the unique emancipation car moved northward across the
hills of Maryland at a rapid rate.
II.
It was court time in Warsaw, N. Y., and a large number of people were
gathered about the principal hotel when a man holding the reins over a
spanking team drove up and ordered accommodations for the team and
himself. Beckoning the hostler forward he proceeded with the team. As he
passed, a bystander remarked, “A right, royal team, that.”
“Pretty good for a peddler,” remarked another.
“Do you call that man a peddler?” queried a third.
“Didn’t you see ‘Clocks’ on the cover?” came back from No. 2.
“No, indeed,” was the reply, “I was too intent in looking upon the
horses to notice anything else. Some down easter I suppose; sold out his
load over among the pennymights, and is now on his way home likely.”
Breakfast over the traveler inquired of the landlord if he knew one Col.
C. O. Shepard, of Attica.
“Very well,” was the reply, “he is here attending court.”
“I shall be glad to see him. As he is a stranger to me, you will please
call him in.”
The Colonel soon appeared when the stranger said, “This is Col. Shepard,
I believe.”
“Shepard is my name, but I have not the honor of knowing you, sir.”
“It is not essential that you should; to me it is politic you should
not. I wish to make a little consignment to you,” saying which he led
the way to the barn, followed by the Colonel and a number of
by-standers, where he opened a box in his vehicle from which emerged a
well-formed octaroon woman of some thirty summers and a sprightly girl,
white as any in the homes of Warsaw. At the sight of these there went up
a rousing three times three, at the conclusion of which the stranger
said, “These, gentlemen, are what among my neighbors are called chattel
and treated as such, and that with my tacit endorsement, at least. Ten
days ago if any man had told me I would assist one to escape, I should
have laughed him to scorn; but when this poor woman who had worked
faithfully in my family to earn the wherewith to buy the freedom of her
own flesh and blood, which, against honied professions to the contrary
from him who should have been the innocent one’s firmest protector, was
about to be sold into an ignominious servitude, came to me and pleaded
for the deliverance of her child and my wife quoted, ‘Do unto others as
ye would that they should do unto you,’ my sense of right and humanity
rose above all political antecedents and predilections and here I am.
Since leaving the Potomac, no human eye has looked upon these beings but
mine until this moment. My affiliations and the fact it was well known I
was coming north on business will shield me from suspicion, therefore
ask no questions. To the direct care of Colonel Shepard, of whom the
slave-owners in Dixie well know and to the protection of you all, I now
consign them, trusting that no _master’s_ hand shall ever again be laid
upon them.”
There was again vociferous cheering, at the conclusion of which Col.
Shepard said, “We accept the charge and I ask as a special favor that
you give me the box in which you have brought them thus far on their
way, as a kind of memento,” a request that was readily acceded to, and
in a few minutes a Jersey wagon labeled “Clocks” was speeding rapidly
eastward, whilst in a day or two the box and its former occupants were
taken triumphantly to Attica, the home of Col. Shepard.
III.
The time was when every person holding an office under the general
government was supposed to be in sympathy with the slave power and ready
to obey its behests, an idea somewhat erroneous. It was under such
impressions that two strangers rode up to the post-office in the village
of Attica and inquired for the postmaster. On that functionary’s
presenting himself they inquired if he knew anything of a slave woman,
nearly white, with her little girl, being in the neighborhood, as such
persons had recently escaped from the vicinity of Washington, and were
believed by them to be in the immediate vicinity.
The postmaster invited them to alight and come inside, which being
complied with, he said, “Gentlemen, the persons you seek are within a
half mile of you, but though I might under some circumstances be willing
to assist you, my advice is, let them alone. Every man, woman and child
in the town is ready to protect them. You can not raise men enough in
this county to secure their apprehension. I see by the commotion in the
street the people are apprehensive of mischief. Such a thing as an
abduction has never been attempted here, and if you are wise you will
not attempt one now. Indeed I would not like to guarantee your limbs or
life fifteen minutes longer.”
Beholding the commotion, the would-be kidnappers quickly mounted their
horses and rode silently out of town, no demonstration being made by the
multitude until the meddlers reached the bridge, when cheer on cheer
arose, causing them to put spurs to their horses and get quickly out of
sight, notwithstanding their threats to secure their prey, a thing they
never attempted.
Statie died within two years after her escape; Col. Shepard long kept
the box in which she was brought off as the only “through car” he had
ever seen; Lila is still a resident of the Empire State, whilst Mr.
Barbour, having disposed of his real estate sought a clime more
congenial to his sense of justice and humanity.