THE FURNACE: 
 
 A TALE OF THE TIMES 
 
 OF THE 
 
 IRON HOOF. 
 
 " which devoured, brake in pieces, and stamped the residue 
 with his feet." DANIEL. 
 
 PAWTUCKET, R. I.: 
 
 A. W. PEARCE, PRINTER. 
 
 1852.
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1852, by 
 
 MRS. SOPHIA L. LITTLE, 
 In the Clerk's office of the District Court of Rhode Island.
 
 TO THE READER. 
 
 THE little work, now presented to the public was writ- 
 ten the Autumn after the passage of the Fugitive Slave 
 law. It was written in haste, and in the interval of an- 
 other employment. It was put into the hands of a friend 
 for publication at that time. Circumstances over which 
 the Author had no control, prevented its immediate pub- 
 lication. I refer any one who desires to know the facts 
 in the case to Mr. John H. Willard, of Pawtucket. It 
 was written as a testimony against the Fugitive Slave 
 Law. I wished that my feelings, concerning that law, 
 should reach the ears of the people. I know that we over- 
 come " by the blood of the lamb and the word of our 
 testimony." I considered the mode here adopted, the sur- 
 est method of access to the people. It was not till I had 
 decided to publish it that I met with that wonderful book, 
 Uncle Tom's Cabin. Thus while my little bark lay hin- 
 dered in port, God had launched forth a noble vessel on 
 the chafed waters of the public mind. If any one thinks 
 I have exaggerated the cruelties of slavery, let them read 
 Theodore Weld's Testimony of a thousand witnesses ; and 
 see how the dreadful truth exceeds anything my pen 
 has here portrayed ! The characters are in their main, 
 delineations from the life. The charity, the loveliness, 
 the piety of Marian, are not Ideal Sybil's character is 
 drawn from one I know ; and who, acquainted with Anti- 
 Slavery life, has not seen Gilbert among the Fugitives ? 
 The character of the warrior clergyman, I am sorry to 
 say, is also not altogether imaginary, but while the Chris- 
 tian ministry numbers such men as the martyrs, Torrey 
 and Lovejoy, and he who now lies in a southern prison,
 
 and many more burning and shining lights, we will not 
 despair. 
 
 I have shown how slavery uproots the domestic affec- 
 tions, and destroys all that purity of attachment between 
 the sexes, which is the boast and the safeguard of Chris- 
 tian civilization.
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Wherein the hero of this story speaks for himself. 
 
 "CoME nearer, Gilbert, I have something to tell thee be- 
 fore I die. I never dared to tell thee till now ; but thou 
 must keep it secret. Thou and thy sister, Marian, are the 
 children of our Master. God has forgiven me, for thou 
 knowest the sin was not mine. I hear that Jonas Free- 
 man, the good friend, who told me about the great friend 
 in Heaven, is coming back from his visit to England. 
 When he returns, Gilbert, seek him out and he will be a 
 father to thee." While mother was thus speaking, I, who 
 had been weeping and sobbing violently at the door of the 
 hut, drew nearer the low straw pallet, where she lay, 
 and putting my arm underneath her, rested her head on 
 my swelling bosom ! The disclosure that my mother now 
 made me, did not much affect me, for my whole soul was 
 absorbed in the thought of losing her. The little lone hut, 
 to which we had been sent, at the time it was believed we 
 should both fall victims to the cholera, stood on a woody 
 hill, and looked down into a broken, irregular ravine. 
 Through a gorge in the mountains dashed a turbid river ; 
 and every thing around us was formed to inspire melan- 
 choly yet sublime ideas, and unearthly thoughts. And 
 here I was alone in this solitude with my dying mother. 
 My own robust constitution had conquered the disease but 
 my poor mother had been long consumptive, and although 
 1*
 
 the fell malady had itself passed away, it had hastened 
 her death. I was now just nineteen. We had never been 
 separated. She was nurse in the family, and I, my young 
 master's body servant ; so that our situation gave more 
 opportunity for the tender intercourse of mother and child 
 than that of many other slaves. How often have I stolen 
 to my mother to tell her of the cruel treatment I had re- 
 ceived, and to find consolation in the sympathy of her, 
 who was now dying in my arms ; my faithful, tender 
 mother ! My young master was of a severe, imperious 
 temper. He would not allow me to associate with the 
 other servants, but when at home employed me continually 
 about his own person. My sister, who was his mother's 
 waiting maid, I saw more rarely. My mother was one of 
 the most motherly, gentle creatures that ever lived, over- 
 flowing with the " milk of human kindness." Her master 
 had given her to his wife as a nurse, when they first came 
 to reside on the plantation, which was not until after they 
 had been married several years. He had forbidden my 
 mother, on pain of dreadful penalties ever to reveal the 
 former connexion between them ; a connexion which her 
 dependent situation as a slave, had forced upon her in her 
 youth, but which she had resolutely refused to continue, 
 after she knew her Redeemer. She nursed seven of her 
 mistress' children, all of whom died very young, except 
 my young master ; but this was not to be attributed to the 
 want of kindness and care on the part of their nurse. 
 But although her health had been lost in their service, yet 
 as soon as my mother and myself gave symptoms of the 
 terrible cholera, we were both banished to the hut for the 
 sick. The plantation physician called on us once or twice,
 
 and giving his opinion that our cases were hopeless, we 
 were left to our fate. My mother was only thirty-five 
 years old. She had been beautiful. I remember her 
 when I was a little boy, in her plain Quaker dress, with 
 her erect, graceful form, and her full, tender eyes, so 
 ready to overflow with tears. She was as true a Christian 
 as ever lived. I loved her infinitely ; to me she was eve- 
 rything. I have gone to her after being severely beaten, 
 and have almost forgotten, while I heard her lovely, sooth- 
 ing voice, that I was a slave. But now the hour had come 
 for me to lose this precious friend ; yet better far lose her 
 thus than to have her sold away from me to work in the 
 rice swamps, as was the mother of William Brown. I felt 
 this a sad consolation as I watched the features of my dyins 
 mother. My tears fell upon her face. 
 
 " Dear Gilbert," said the ever sweet, but now failing 
 voice, " do not grieve. I know that my Redeemer liveth. 
 My only grief has been to leave thee and thy sister ; but 
 God has shown me that thou and Marian will not always 
 be slaves. Be a diligent seeker for Christ. Comfort my 
 poor Marian ; tell her not to mourn for me, for he is nigh 
 who has redeemed me. Give her my blessing." 
 
 Here her voice quite failed her, yet she raised her head 
 and pressed her lips to mine. I folded her closer to my 
 
 heart. The breath left her with that last kiss ! 
 
 ****** 
 
 I went into the still night. Oh ! how still, how awfully 
 still ! I knelt down beneath the spreading tree that over- 
 hung our hut. Now there was nobody left on earth to love 
 me as my mother had. The years of her brief life of 
 toil and slavery passed before me. I believed she was
 
 8 
 
 happy. I implored the Almighty to suffer me to join her. 
 I besought him to show me the way of life. I gave my- 
 self in solemn covenant to him. I confessed my sins from 
 the depths of my breaking heart, and, oh my gracious 
 God ! how soon the joy of pardon, the peace that passeth 
 knowledge came flowing in. I knew not the Redeemer 
 till then, although I had long prayed to know him. I 
 rose from my knees ! Everything was changed ; that hut, 
 that miserable hut, looked like heaven ; and the black, 
 turbid river seemed to me like a stream of Paradise rolling 
 on in celestial music. I entered the hut, and approached 
 the bed ; with what different feelings I now gazed upon 
 the beloved dead ! I longed for her to know my happi- 
 ness. As I leaned silently over her, a supernatural light 
 hung for one instant over the bed. For one instant I be- 
 held my mother in such a glory, as I cannot describe ; she 
 smiled upon me, and the vision was gone : but that smile 
 was full of a new communion with me, the " communion 
 of saints." I went to dig her grave ; and having perform- 
 ed the sad task, I prepared to bury the only parent that 
 would own me as a child. It was early dawn. A spicy 
 air came up from the woods. A faint tinge of rosy pur- 
 ple defined the wavy outlines of the dark hills. That 
 mingling of dawning light with darkness, seemed at once 
 to associate itself with the state of my soul, where the 
 gloom of my mother's death was illumined by the new 
 dawn of an Eternal Day within me. I had just lowered 
 my mother's body into the grave, when I heard a sudden, 
 painful cry, and looking up, I saw my sister Marian run- 
 ing towards me. " Gibby, dear Gibby," said she, " Oh ! 
 is mother dead ? Ah ! what shall we poor children do ?"
 
 T took her trembling hand, and leading her into the hut, 
 sat down beside her. I then told her all about our moth- 
 er's death ; and how the Lord Jesus had manifested him- 
 self to me as he does not to the world. I knew this would 
 be choice comfort to her, who, though younger than my- 
 self, had long been in the liberty. But though she sym- 
 pathized with me, still she looked thoughtful and anxious. 
 I enquired if anything troubled her. 
 
 " Yes," said she, but I cannot stay now, for fear I shall 
 be missed. Mistress returned late from a ball, so I stole 
 away after she retired, to see dear mother and you ; but I 
 must be quick and get back again. To-morrow night 
 there is to be another great party, and all are going ; if I 
 can, I will meet you here then." 
 
 With these words she left me, and I returned to cover 
 with the cold sod, the precious body of my mother. 
 While thus engaged, my young master appeared on horse- 
 back. He was on his way to join a hunting party. 
 
 " Oh ho, boy," said he, " what are you doing here r" 
 
 " Mother is dead," said I, mournfully. 
 
 " And you are better, I see," said he. " Show your- 
 self quickly at the house." 
 
 And on he rode. Not one word of pity for me ; not 
 one of regret for the woman who was far more a mother 
 to him than the one who bore him.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Gilbert sketches Characters. 
 
 THERE was, in my master's family, at that time, a 
 nephew of my master's, who was also his ward. He was 
 the only son and heir of a deceased sister of Mr. Living- 
 ston. She had married a wealthy English gentleman, 
 who, after living many years on the Island of Cuba, re- 
 moved to New Orleans a little before his death. He was 
 u man of eccentric character, and, seeing his son disposed 
 to extravagance and pleasure, he had, by will, conditional- 
 ly trusteed hir son's estate to his uncle, for a term of 
 years, curtailing him of all but a bare sufficiency, unless 
 he regarded him as a guardian until the expiration of the 
 time. He also gave Mr. Livingston power to control his 
 son, in matrimonial affairs, during that period. Mr. Arthur 
 St. Vallery was now twenty-two years of age, but he was 
 still called Master Arthur, among the servants. He, like 
 his father, was an original. He had a sort of careless, 
 free, dashing manner, concealing real power of mind ; 
 and more sensibility than he cared to be thought to pos- 
 sess. A real shock of thick, curling dark hair was his, 
 very irregularly kept, and thickly fringed eyelids, added 
 to the expression of his remarkable eyes : eyes where the 
 veil of the soul seemed half'lifted, just to show you that 
 there were mysteries within that soul yet unsolved, and not 
 to be explored by vulgar eyes. Their color, a dark grey,
 
 11 
 
 was relieved by a rich, changeful light. The face of this 
 youth was altogether an enigma. He had been visitor at 
 the plantation often, but who there understood him ? We 
 poor slaves only knew that of the two we liked him better 
 than Master Sedley Livingston, my young master. There 
 was also in the family another visitant, a niece of Madam 
 Livingston's ; Miss Lucina Woodville. Some of the slyer 
 sort among the slaves remarked " that it was curious how 
 Miss Woodville always happened to make her visits when 
 Master Arthur was at Livingston Lawn." She was a very 
 sentimental, pretty young lady ; played the harp, professed 
 religion, wrote poetry, rode on horseback, danced grace- 
 fully, and was considered quite " au fait." 
 
 *#*### 
 
 There lived near the plantation, a strange old woman 
 whom we all called Aunt Sybil. Her husband and her- 
 self had bought their freedom in their old age, and had a 
 little home, about half a mile from their old one. Her 
 husband was now dead. Whether Aunt Sybil really com- 
 municated with the invisible world or not, we will not pre- 
 tend to determine ; but she was very devout and spiritual, 
 and withal, wore so naturally an air of mystery and mar- 
 vel, that almost all the young folks about there, both col- 
 ored and white, believed that if she would, she could tell 
 them all about their future.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Wherein the Narrator takes up the Story. 
 
 THC sun had gone down ; the last red glow of his de- 
 parting light had faded from that melancholy stream of 
 which I have spoken. The slaves were still to be seen 
 toiling in the fields, while the happier beasts and birds 
 went to their rest. Oh ! that slavery should ever mar the 
 holy, quiet beauty of the early hour ! A glimmering light 
 appeared in a rude habitation picturesquely situated in a 
 notch of the hills, a little from the road. A gushing little 
 waterfall tumbled near it and formed itself into a fairy 
 lake, near the borders of the small domain. A heavy 
 browed hill gloomed over the lone habitations, which at 
 one side, opened into a deep green glen, beautifully skirt- 
 ed with majestic forest trees. The cleared and cultivated 
 spot in the vicinity of the cottage, displayed a rich herb, and 
 vegetable garden ; a beautiful patch of flowers ; a bee- 
 hive, and a poultry yard, the riches of the thrifty inhabi- 
 tant of the place. But the bees had ceased their hum ; 
 the fowls were at roost in the great old trees ; the flowers 
 had closed their fragrant bosoms. A large old sleepy dog, 
 at once the friend and guardian of the solitary inhabitant of 
 the hut, slept upon the broad, stone step. A tall slender 
 mulatto youth, very light, and unusually handsome, came 
 up the road, and reaching the hut, gave a low tap at the 
 door.
 
 13 
 
 " Come in, Jasmyn," said a voice within ; and he en- 
 tered, cautiously fastening the door behind him. Jasmyn 
 was old Aunt Sybil's grandson ; the son of her only child, 
 Myra. Sybil had been the favorite slave of Mr. Living- 
 ton's mother, who had given to her handsome grand-child 
 this fanciful name. The name was happily chosen. It 
 well suited the poetical soul and sweet nature of the gen- 
 tle slave. He was meek, affectionate, intelligent and pious. 
 Yet though a house slave and very docile, he was often 
 severely whipped ; for tyrants ever most abuse meekness. 
 Stimulated by this cruel treatment of her beloved grandson, 
 poor old Sybil was working very hard, and half starving 
 herself to purchase his freedom. He found his grandmoth- 
 er seated at her wheel. Old age sits kindly upon the 
 African, if there has not been much harsh usage in pre- 
 vious life ; and old Sybil's still erect and stately form 
 was quite a contrast to the slight, graceful figure, of her 
 descendant. She wore a scarlet turban about her head, 
 and her coarse but clean blue dress was relieved by a 
 cross-barred handkerchief of scarlet and white. The Afri- 
 can skin has the advantage of the white in old age, in 
 that it retains its pliancy and smoothness longer, and its 
 dark color appears more healthy than the withered, dingy 
 yellow of the skin of whites at the same age. Aunt Sybil, 
 as she rose from her wheel, and came forward, presented 
 a picture of healthful, though advanced, old age. There 
 was an air of mysteiy in her searching eyes as she looked 
 upon you, and whether she had or had not, explored " the 
 dreamy vast where spirits dwell," there was a sort of ele- 
 vating fascination about her, which made that old hut a 
 very different place from common abode ; and that curious 
 2
 
 14 
 
 old dog of her's as much a theme of superstitous specula- 
 tion among the slaves, and excited as much veneration as 
 Sybil herself. But in whatever of mystery Sybil might 
 enwrap herself to others, to Jasmyn she was all mother. 
 
 " Good morning, grandmother," said he, in a more sor- 
 rowful tone of voice than usual. 
 
 " Good morning, Jasmyn ; but how ill you look ; you 
 are ready to sink down." 
 
 " O ! I am very well." 
 
 " Ah, don't think to hide it from me ; ye need not think 
 to hide anything from me ; you are heart sick, and soul 
 sick, and body sick." So saying, she took hold of his hot 
 and trembling hands ; the poor lad, unable to contain any 
 longer, burst into tears. " Don't take on, my child, think 
 how soon you will be free, and cheer up, my lamb." 
 
 "Ah, mother! mother! My heart is broken. I shall 
 never live to be free." 
 
 " Jasmyn, that cruel wretch, Master Sedley, has been 
 beating you again, and all because Marian loves you so 
 dearly." 
 
 " Who told you about it ? " 
 
 " Don't believe you can hide anything from me. I saw 
 it all, as I sat alone by the stream ; O ! what a moaning ; 
 O ! what a groaning sound, just like your voice, my poor 
 boy. I saw blood on the stream, and your mother stood 
 before me in the low mist, and waved her shadowy hands, 
 and cried : " wo ! wo to the wicked ! a woe that hath 
 wings ! " True you were half a mile off, but I knew what 
 was going on. But cheer up, my poor boy ; let me wash 
 your back with this oil, the old Indian woman gave me. 
 She said it was a charmed oil.
 
 15 
 
 Tenderly she removed his dress, and lifting up her 
 hands at the sight his back presented, she exclaimed, " Oh 
 God ! when will thine hour come." Then the poor crea- 
 ture bathed the gory traces of thfe lash both with the oil, 
 and her fast flowing tears : all the while trying to comfort 
 her darling grandson with the prospect of soon being free; 
 but she had not finished her kind task ere quick footsteps 
 were heard approaching. 
 
 " There," said she to Jasmyn, " go quick into the bed- 
 room, and lie down on the bed." 
 
 She had hardly closed the bed-room door, when anoth- 
 er tap came. She withdrew the bolt, opened the door and 
 stepped back surprised. 
 
 " Is it Master Arthur ? " said she. 
 
 " Yes ; glad to find you alone. Now fasten the door, 
 for 1 do not mean that any one shall know that I am here. 
 Uncle and aunt think I am very sick in my room." 
 
 " And what for lie to them, Master Arthur ? " 
 
 " Because they wanted me to go to the Evans', to the 
 ball, and I did not mean to, that's all." 
 
 " Not want to go, Master Arthur, when Miss Lucina is 
 there ? " 
 
 " That's the very reason I won't go, and you know that 
 very well, you cunning old fox ; for the devil or somebody 
 like him, tells you everything that is going on up at the 
 house. But mum," said he, drawing up closer and low- 
 ering his voice, " you don't know quite all. I love some- 
 body else, and you must help me out : that is what I have 
 come for to-night." 
 
 " What can poor Sybil do for a grand gentleman like 
 you."
 
 16 
 
 " Everything. But you must swear secrcsy on the Bi- 
 ble, for if you breathe the least word, by everything great 
 and good, you shall repent it." 
 
 "Master Arthur," said Sybil, now drawing herself to 
 the full height of her imposing stature, " ye need not to 
 think to frighten a woman whom neither the living nor 
 the dead can terrify. Alone, here, in the stormy night, 1 
 hear voices that are more than yours, Master Arthur ; 
 and I sec powerful ones that do not make Sybil's heart 
 move one bit quicker. I am not afraid of mortal man, 
 Master Arthur." 
 
 Her young guest felt the power of her natural majesty, 
 and, white man as he was, and in the strength of his 
 youth, he cowered before her ; but he knew her weak 
 point, and said in a more soothing voice : 
 
 " But mother Sybil you care for Jasmyn r" 
 
 " Ah ! my poor Jasmyn, would to God he was free !" 
 
 " Well, Sybil, if you will do as 1 wish I can bring that 
 about, and I promise you I will accomplish it." 
 
 " I would do much for that, Master Arthur, but never 
 swear on this book ; it is too much like making an agree- 
 ment with the Evil One." 
 
 " Some say," said Arthur, " you did that long ago, 
 mam." 
 
 " Because they think I cannot get the same knowledge 
 in a better way, which some folks seek to gain through 
 the wicked spirits. No, master, that not like me ; God 
 and good spirits show me great tilings. I see and I fore- 
 sec. I knew you would come and see me before long. 
 Did'nt I hear the tramp of your horse's feet, you've left 
 hitched a bit down the road ! did'nt I hear it as I stood at
 
 17 
 
 my wheel to-day ? and did'nt a warning cry come before 
 me and behind me, that made my blood shiver. ' Be- 
 ware, beware ! a snare, a snare." 
 
 " Now, mam, I suppose all you say is as true as the 
 Book ; but besides being a Seeress, Mother Sybil, you 
 have a deal of good sharp mother wit about you ; hear me 
 then ; I am in love to desperation, and you must help me. 
 You know well what influence you have with many young 
 folks." 
 
 " But, Master Arthur is not in love with that sort ; he 
 wants some grand, pretty lady, and how in the world can 
 I help him ? maybe 'tis Miss Lucina. 
 
 " No, no, nor half a dozen like her. I love a quadioon 
 girl." 
 
 " You need not come to me with any of your wicked 
 love, Master Arthur. I am a Christian, and God forbid I 
 should help you out in such a thing." 
 
 " But, mammy, why need it be a wicked love ?" 
 
 " Because you could have no other for a poor, despised 
 qu adroon ; you know it, Master Arthur, you know it." 
 
 " On my life I have never thought a moment about its 
 being wicked or good. I only know I love her, and why 
 so scrupulous ? You know slaves have no real marriages." 
 
 " Master Arthur," replied Sybil, " the poor slave's not 
 suffered to do God's will, only master's will ; he marry 
 us his fashion ; but, as soon as we free,, then we marry in 
 God's true holy way." 
 
 No use talking all this nonsense, Sybil. I am in love, 
 and you must help me out." 
 
 " Who do you love ?" said Sybil, a sudden glimpse of 
 the truth flashing across her mind. 
 2*
 
 18 
 
 " I love Marian, my aunt's beautiful waiting girl. 1 
 dare not speak to her, nor hardly look at her, but by 
 stealth, for there is Sedley, his mother's idol, has marked 
 her out for himself. Aunt Livingston, who denies him 
 nothing, winks at the thing. Sediey is furiously jealous. 
 He beat your poor Jasmyn to-day, severely, pretending it 
 was for some negligence, but I watched the whole humor 
 of the affair, and it was only because the poor boy gave 
 Marian a flower or two, a mere act of common gallantry. 
 Who could help it to such a creature !" 
 
 Sybil felt secretly glad to find from Arthur's manner of 
 speaking of the transaction, that naturally unsuspicious, 
 he had not detected the secret, serious attachment, be- 
 tween Marian and Jasmyn, (which was, by the bye, a love 
 as true as ever touched the finer sensibilities of two youth- 
 ful hearts, slaves as they were.) 
 
 Master Arthur, though shrewd, was more careless than 
 prying, unlike his suspicious cousin, who was always on 
 the alert, and though affecting the gentleman among his 
 equals, was not ashamed to use the meanest artifice among 
 his dependents. Arthur was above this ; he was earnest, 
 daring and sanguine, the master passion absorbed all oth- 
 ers. He could only think of that. Sybil was growing 
 uneasy, lest he should detect the prisoner pro tern., in the 
 bedroom, and was casting about what she should do, when 
 voices of persons approaching the house, were heard. 
 
 " Where will you conceal me ?" said Arthur, " I must 
 not be seen in this place ; let me go in here," said he, 
 with his hand on the latch of the bedroom door. 
 
 ' No, no," said Sybil, much alarmed, but not a whit 
 betraying it ; " my dog has gone in there, and he is sav-
 
 19 
 
 age if you wake him at night ; but go out this way," said 
 she, opening a back door, " and if you please, Master, 
 come again in an hour or so, and I shall be alone." 
 
 " I'll warrant somebody come to see our Sybil as a 
 Sybil," soliloquized Arthur, as he went off chagrined, 
 " uncle is so severe in some things, and so loose in others. 
 I'll warrant half the guard, and the overseer in the bar- 
 gain, are drunk. Wonder when I can catch this strange 
 old Sybil alone, for she is the one Marian looks up to for 
 advice and direction, and bribed she must be," said he, 
 mounting his horse and riding off towards the house. 
 Sybil, after he was gone, cautiously opened the bedroom 
 door ; but she found it empty ; the bird had flown. At 
 the first sound of Master Arthur's voice, poor Jasmyn had 
 got out of the window, and crawled home as well as his 
 soreness would permit. Jasmyn loved Marian from a 
 child ; but when little Marian was advanced to the dignity 
 of lady's waiting maid, she was no more allowed to be 
 with him. A slave's feelings are little noticed, or if no- 
 ticed, little cared for, so that nobody observed their love, 
 save the jealous, sharp-sighted heir of the Livingstons. 
 These human chattels are usually regarded as a sort of 
 animate automata, to be simply subservient to their mas- 
 ters' will. Jasmyn was a house servant, but, as we have 
 said, severely used. He had been, of late, closely watch- 
 ed by Sedley. That day, as he was carrying a basket of 
 flowers across the hall, he had ventured, as he thought 
 unperceived, to give his dear Marian a few wild roses and 
 violets, he had gathered. Sedley saw him, however, and 
 saw the look too, with which he presented them. As soon 
 as possible after the discovery, he made a pretext to chas-
 
 20 
 
 tise him with his own hanct, without mercy, saying to hirn 
 as he stole away weak and bleeding, from the scene of 
 his torture, " Be careful next time, rascal, who you give 
 flowers to." Poor Jasmyn hurried to his grandmother's ; 
 what there took place, the reader knows, but is not yet 
 aware whose were the voices, that had caused Master 
 Arthur to depart so opportunely. 

 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 In which Gilbert again tells Ms own story. 
 
 " Is it Marian and Gilbert ? " said Sybil, as she cautious- 
 ly opened the door of her hut, partially discerning us by 
 the moonlight. 
 
 " Yes, it is indeed, Mother Sybil," said I, " we have 
 come to see you awhile." 
 
 " Ye are welcome, ye are welcome, children, but it will 
 not do for you to stay long now, for somebody will be 
 here in an hour, you will not care to meet." 
 
 " But what is that on the floor, near the back door," 
 said Marian, as the broad moon-light now fell on the floor, 
 supplying what was lacking in Sybil's fading torch. "It 
 is a letter," said she, stepping forward and picking it up. 
 As Marian held the letter to the light, I looked over her 
 shoulder and said, " It is Master Arthur's hand. So it is 
 he that has been here to-night ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Sybil, " but don't breathe it, if you do not 
 want to make trouble for me, children." 
 
 " This is an unsealed letter," said Marian, " I should 
 like to read it, if it is right." 
 
 " And I shall think it is right, sister," said I, " after 
 what you have told me to-night, and thank God that I can 
 read it." 
 
 " No," said Sybil, " don't read it, for God's love, good 
 (iibby ; for Master Arthur will be back soon, and will put
 
 22 
 
 it to me to know if any one has read his letter, and if I lie, 
 the angels will leave me ; I shall no more dare to see the 
 good hermit of the monntains : and above all, the Saviour 
 will hide his face from my prayers for poor Jasmyn." 
 
 " But I must read it," said I ; " I will read it, and throw 
 it down again just there by the old mat, where we picked 
 it up, and when he comes in let him find it, you are not 
 obliged then to know anything about it." 
 
 If the reader, from this occurrence, pharasaically con- 
 gratulates himself that he is a more conscientious Christian 
 than I was, I can say in defence of myself, I was natural- 
 ly inclined to great fairness, but slavery forced deception 
 upon me. What had I to oppose to their terror, and pow- 
 er, but my mother wit ? 
 
 In this particular case, I was certainly justified. The 
 fate of my only bosom friend, my sister, hung in the 
 scales, and I am sure, when the candid reader peruses 
 the history of our interview, previous to our visit to Sybil's 
 hut, he will acquit me. If any do not like me, however, 
 let them leave me here, for they are about to read the ad- 
 ventures of a mortal man, and of other mortals like him- 
 self ; not the ideal of a novelist, or one of those biogra- 
 phies, which deify poor fallible men and women, so that 
 the simple scriptural account of ancient worthies, with all 
 their human faults, as well as heavenly virtues about them, 
 looks imperfect, and inferior beside them. The reader will 
 hear of poor uneducated or self-educated slaves, not the 
 enlightened Christians who enslave them. They must not 
 then be squeamish, if the hero and heroines of this simple 
 history do not come up quite square with those rigid rules 
 by which they judge others. The letter of Master Arthur,
 
 23 
 
 which 1 thus clandestinely read, was as follows, being ad- 
 dressed to one of his college friends : 
 
 My Dear Louis : There is a wonderful beauty here 
 at Livingston Lawn, but she is a quadroon, and to my in- 
 finite vexation, is waiting maid to my aunt. Now for a 
 picture. Imagine, then, one of the finest specimens of 
 Grecian art, animated by the pure, glowing life of fifteen 
 summers. I would not change the rose-tinted olive of her 
 complexion, for that of the fairest Caucassian this side of 
 Georgia. It suits better her large, soft, gazelle-like eyes, 
 and so sets off the pearly teeth and the roseate lips. She 
 has a peculiar, unstudied grace in knotting carelessly 
 back, her raven curls, so as to show the delicate contour 
 of her face and head. You must know that I am not al- 
 lowed even to look at this peerless nymph. I have been 
 tempted to anathemize the manes of my father, for giving 
 me over to these Livingstons, for some years beyond my 
 natural minority. Forsooth, he said he saw no signs of 
 my coming to years of discretion, before thirty, if I did 
 then ; that I had fairly spent an estate in college, and he 
 meant to give me full time to sow my wild oats, before I 
 came into the blessed fruition of hcirship. So you per- 
 ceive, my dear fellow, I have many years of probation be- 
 fore me under the oversight of these honorable relatives of 
 mine. These Livingstons, more especially Madam, have, 
 in their wisdom and providence, selected a wife for me, 
 and of course, just precisely such a one as I won't have. 
 And yet she is pretty, wealthy and accomplished ; but stop, 
 I'll give you her picture also. There are millions of oth- 
 ers just like her, knowing nothing and indifferent to every- 
 thing, but just the contracted sphere in which they move.
 
 24 
 
 The other day she and I were walking about the planta- 
 tion ; accidentally we blundered on a part of the grounds 
 where an overseer was chastising a negro. I have lived 
 most of my Hfe near such scenes, but somehow, cannot 
 get used to it ; so, as I was for steering away, 
 
 " Dear me," said she, " do not go through the dewy 
 grass ; I shall draggle my dress." 
 
 " I don't like to hear poor Bill's cries," said I. 
 
 "Why so?" said she, " 1 presume the boy deserves 
 his punishment." 
 
 God save me from a woman that has no more sensibili- 
 ty ; well, her feelings are just of this stamp, all of them ; 
 all cramped up within conventional rules. What could I 
 do with such a creature ? Why, there is more innate 
 freedom in one look of the slave Marian, than ever Luci- 
 na Woodville dreamed of ! Then she is one of those fine, 
 fashionable saints, and I tell you the truth, my good fellow, 
 I had rather see a regular sinner any time. If this reli- 
 gion they make such a fuss about, is any thing, it is every- 
 thing, and not the solemn farce which some would make 
 it ; but you understand, this creature has no life at all, out 
 of a particular sphere. She was converted, or thought she 
 was, during a state of excitement in her father's church. 
 If she ever had any grace, as they call it, it has all settled 
 down into a set of formalities coldly observed. She goes 
 to our dancing parties, but contrives to have it given out 
 that she dances to please her aunt. However, she is an 
 extremely graceful dancer, and both sings and plays well. 
 Her talk is made up of fashionable gossip, and fashions, and 
 fashionable literature, with now and then, more especially 
 when any of the godly sort are present, a slight sprinkling
 
 25 
 
 about Sabbath schools, sermons, and et cetera. She is 
 the last wife for my taste, any how. She is of a medium 
 size, pretty pink cheeks, blue eyes, black hair, and is as 
 neat and trim as you could wish. I am somewhat accu- 
 rate in my description, because as she has money, and you 
 are ia sad need of it, you might take her out of my way ; 
 especially as you are not very particular who the wife is, 
 if she has the desirable Mammon. If you fancy this 
 speculation, and will go into it, as soon as my long minor- 
 ity is over, I will give you a cool thousand. Your.per- 
 sonal recommendations are unexceptionable, of which, my 
 dear fellow, you are very well aware. Then you have 
 some reversionary expectations, unless your stories of the 
 Estate in Chancery, and the rich maiden Aunt, are fabu- 
 lous. I have only one temptation to try the thing myself, 
 which is, that my guardian has it in his power, if he pleas- 
 es, to shorten my probation. As he receives handsome 
 compensation as guardian, nothing would induce him to 
 relinquish it, but, perchance, marrying agreeably to his 
 wishes. This is the only bait likely to catch me. But to 
 return to Marian, do not think I mean to marry her. No, 
 there is a conventional toleration of another son of connex- 
 ion, which answers all the purposes of a papal indulgence. 
 Having had this very desirable modern standard of faith 
 fully inculcated to me, I have no desire to run counter to 
 it, and thus Marian shall be mine. There is a sort of old 
 Sybil, half a mile from here, a rare old Christian, and by 
 a happy hit, her name agrees to her character, for her 
 name is Sybil. And a fine old study she is, too. A sort 
 of natural magnetizer, psychologist, spirit seer, &c. She 
 
 has an unbounded influence over the young ; to her I am 
 3
 
 26 
 
 purposing to wend my way to-night, while my dear uncle 
 and aunt, and pretty Miss Lucina, think me sick in bed. 
 I took some medicine on purpose, chalked up a little, and 
 with a little groaning and complaining, got off from a dull 
 party at the Evans'. Think what a time I have ! uncle 
 and aunt, and Sedley to watch me ! Sedley, who is run- 
 ning through Satan's initiatory degrees as rapidly as could 
 be wished, having himself selected my " bright, peculiar 
 star," as an object worthy of his devotions. And the fa- 
 ther and mother, dead bent to marry me to Lucina. Be- 
 sides all this, I have a greater obstacle ; Marian has a 
 brother, hight Gibby, whose love for his sister is wonder- 
 ful. This Gibby is a very quick-witted, intelligent fellow, 
 body-servant to cousin Sedley. I don't think all the le- 
 gions of Beelzebub, could hold him a slave one hour, if it 
 were not that it is impossible to get his sister off, with 
 him. But if his master or mistress, ever take the twain 
 on any of their northern journeys, they will surely be off." 
 Thank you, for the hint, I exclaimed, as I closed the 
 letter, (for all that remained to be read, was an assurance 
 to his friend, that he would continue his letter next day, 
 after he had consulted the Sybil.) 
 
 The letter we had read, overwhelmed my sister and 
 myself, with thoughts and feelings, which neither of us 
 felt free to express to any one but each other ; and as Sy- 
 bil was expecting Arthur's return, we soon took our leave. 
 Sybil afterwards gave us a particular relation of all that 
 transpired between her and Master Arthur. 
 
 She said we had not been gone many moments before 
 Master Arthur approached the hut. He looked in at the 
 window, and, seeing Sybil alone, came in regardless of the
 
 low growl of Scipio ; so called by Sybil in memory of her 
 husband, and in whose shape some of the slaves asserted 
 that her husband still guarded his beloved Sybil. 
 
 " I have lost a letter," said Master Arthur, " I would 
 not have it fall into any one's hands for thousands. I think 
 I must have dropped it in here. Now try your powers, 
 Syb., and if you are anything of a witch or a prophetess, 
 you can find it for me : and if you do, your fee shall bo 
 this dollar." 
 
 " Master Arthur," said Sybil, " you never did believe I 
 could see into things, but I can, Master Arthur." 
 
 " Well, Mum, if you will only find my letter, I promise 
 to be a full believer in your powers ever after." 
 
 " Scipio," said Sybil to her dog, " go look around the 
 room, and see if you can find Master Arthur's letter.''' 
 The dog rose reluctantly, shook his heavy mane, and went 
 slowly nosing about the floor. Presently he stopped by 
 the mat, picked up the letter, and carrying it in his mouth 
 to Arthur, laid it on his lap. 
 
 " Well done," said Arthur, handing the dollar to Sybil, 
 " you out-do the Fakir of Ava. And now," said he, " if 
 you will only be as powerful over Marian, and win her 
 smiles for me, Jasmyn shall be free. Come, promise to 
 do your best for me, and if I can plan the thing safely, let 
 us have a meeting here, soon." 
 
 Sybil knew it was better to seem to yield, and she said 
 " as you please, Master." 
 
 " Good Sybil," said he, "thank you; I shall rely on 
 your services, to do your best for me. I must return im- 
 mediately, or I shall meet the folks returning from the 
 ball."
 
 28 
 
 Sybil sat awhile ruminating, and then exclaimed " yes, 
 I will do my best for you, to keep you from sinking your 
 poor soul deep in hell, by ruining such a holy young maid- 
 en as Marian ! Aye, she is a slave, a poor mulatto slave. 
 You would sooner marry the white devil, that haunts round 
 our old overseer's grave, than Marian, though she had the 
 soul of a heavenly angel. Ah ! wicked ones, you can 
 range your whole plantation, but nothing will do, but you 
 must have my poor Jasmyn's pet lamb. You would kill 
 poor Sybil, soul and body to get her ; you would kill Jas- 
 myn, to get her, and Gibby too, but I will do my best for 
 you, Master Arthur. My wisdom is not enough ; I must 
 see the old man of the mountain, though it is along, rough 
 journey for me." Then bidding Scipio lie quietly, and 
 watch her, she prayed fervently, and lying down on her 
 humble bed, was soon asleep.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 In which Gilbert relates his visit to the hut for the sick. 
 
 On the evening when the aforesaid scenes took place in 
 Sybil's cottage, I asked permission to go to the hut for the 
 sick, to burn up the straw my poor mother had lain upon, 
 clean and fumigate the house, and get it in order for the 
 next slave who should be sick. I was allowed to go ; and 
 having performed my task, I sat down in full sight of the 
 new made grave of my mother, awaiting the arrival of 
 my dear sister, somewhat anxiously, at first, because my 
 time was limited. Remembering, however, that our pat- 
 rol were careless, oft-times, I grew calmer, and insensibly 
 the sweet feelings were again renewed, which I had first 
 experienced on this sacred spot. My heavenly joys, the 
 dew of my spiritual youth, was fresh upon me. I was 
 never weaiy of drinking in the divine influence, that seem- 
 ed to rain upon me, from the still, eloquent heavens, those 
 old, everlasting hills, and the dark forest, and all around 
 me. As I mused, a trance-like sleep stole over me ; the 
 scene before me seemed changed to Calvary. I saw three 
 crosses, and on them three men suffered unto death. But 
 the one in the midst oh ! there was more than man can 
 think, of love and suffering ! " That was the visage moro 
 marred than any of the sons of men". It was love's ex- 
 tremity ! An infinite God could do no more to declare 
 boundless love, than this. As I gazed, I felt very much 
 1*
 
 30 
 
 humbled and awed at the sight. My sins looked greater 
 than the Universe. These had brought him there, to become 
 my Savior. The vision slowly passed away, and I had a 
 view of my mother's spirit. Joy and love flowed from 
 her eyes. "Dear son," said she, " hold fast that thou 
 hast, let no man take thy crown." She then passed away 
 with a wonderful melting of music, through the air, and I 
 awoke. Marian was beside me. I would not disturb 
 you, said she, you looked so happy. I took her hand, led 
 her into the hut, and we prayed together. Oh, how sweet 
 it was to pray here alone, with that dear sister, now one 
 with me in Christ ! I then said, tell me now, Marian, what 
 troubles you. 
 
 " Ah, Gibby," said she, how often mother told us, when 
 we were children, we knew not yet the bitterness of being 
 slaves ! how she would cry over us ! She said we must 
 get into the love of Jesus, or we could never bear it. I 
 have found it true, lately. Gibby, you know Jasmyn and 
 I were brought up together ; when we were little children 
 we loved to be together. As we grew older, we sought 
 God together, we found peace together, we have always 
 been as one ; and, Gibby dear, I love Jasmyn, and I know 
 he loves me dearly well. I have been happy, till lately, 
 in believing God would open our way for us ; but for some 
 time now, that wicked Sedlcy has persecuted me every 
 chance he has, with his wicked love. Poor Jasmyn found 
 a chance, as he thought unobserved, to give me a sweet, 
 sweet bunch of wild flowers ; but Master Sedley saw him, 
 and soon made an excuse to whip him. I can hear his 
 screams now ! God forgive me. I was tempted to curse 
 him, Jasmyn suffers only for loving me."
 
 31 
 
 With these words, she burst into a passion of tears, sob- 
 bing out, " now I know the bitterness of being a slave." 
 Alas ! what could I say or do to control the violence of 
 her grief! Even those religious feelings, which were in- 
 woven with the earliest growth of her gentle spirit, only 
 increased her distress, for they caused her to look with 
 more horror on him, who would violate her purity. I was 
 almost tempted to risk everything and fly with her from 
 the scene of her dangers, but I well knew there was no 
 chance for us at that time. I trembled, when I thought of 
 her perilous situation. Madam Livingston I knew almost 
 worshiped Sedley ; although she would not directly favor 
 his criminal views, she would not oppose them. I also 
 knew what she did not know, that her son and Marian 
 were half brother and sister. This knowledge, I now felt 
 it necessary to communicate to my sister, under strong 
 injunctions of secresy. She heard it with deep emotion. 
 
 " I have longed in my heart," said she, " to see my 
 father, and to know him, and now, dear God help me! I 
 know him but to know he is my tyrant and my master." 
 
 This, thought I, is Slavery. Oh, Slavery, accursed 
 Sorceress, who transformest the parent's heart into a ti- 
 ger's who panderest the blessed ties of nature, to beas- 
 tiality and cruel covetousness ; where is there a fiercer 
 fury than thou art ! The lashes of millions of scourges 
 dropping human flesh and gore form thy snaky locks. 
 Ravening fires of the pit burn in thine eyes, ever insatia- 
 ble, ever watching for the prey. Yet to thee, ten millions 
 of white freemen conspire to offer up human sacrifices. 
 For thcc they send out their armies to unjust conquests ; 
 and burning villages, ravished virgins and infants scream-
 
 32 
 
 ing in the flames, attest the reality of their devotion to 
 thee ; while Jehovah is dishonored by mixing these horrid 
 
 rites with the worship of the God of love. 
 
 ***** 
 
 From my position as Master Sedley's body servant, I 
 knew him perfectly. His position as the only son of a 
 large slaveholder, conspiring with a cold, selfish, imperious 
 temper, had made him a heartless tyrant. 
 
 I had, however, a greater object of dread in the more 
 shrewd Master Arthur, who was a youth of great determi- 
 nation and perseverance. Notwithstanding all his manage- 
 ment, I had seen enough to convince me that my sister was, 
 if possible, more in danger from him than his cousin. I 
 told Marian my fears. 
 
 " I did not like to speak of him," said she, for fear you 
 should think there might be something in my ways not 
 right, for me to draw the notice of both these, but I am 
 very careful ; yet every opportunity Master Arthur has, 
 which is not often, he will be saying something, or offering 
 me some little present ; but let us now go to Aunt Sybil's, 
 she knows so much perhaps she can advise us what to do." 
 
 " 1 will go with you," said I, " but I caution you not to 
 trust her, or any one too much. From this hour, I prom- 
 ise you, here by this dear grave, I will study some way 
 for us to escape from our tyrants." So saying, we turned 
 towards Sybil's cottage. What there took place, the read- 
 er knows. As I tossed that night on my miserable bed, I 
 saw my sister helpless before me, surrounded by dangers 
 from which I could not save her, and I felt the bitterness 
 of slavery.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Most a chapter of observations and reflections, from Gilbert. 
 
 Sybil's hut was the scene of a variety of meetings. Mr. 
 Livingston was not uniform in his discipline, but in some 
 respects the economy of his plantation was very rigorous, 
 in others, unusually lax. He trusted his affairs mostly to 
 his subordinates, being himself engrossed in politics, liter- 
 ature and pleasures. He permitted one meeting at Sybil's, 
 on condition we were all in at an early hour. There was 
 an old standing regulation, that there must always be one 
 or more white persons present, from the plantation family, 
 but this was little attended to. The religious part of our 
 number, had our regular religious meetings, at Sybil's 
 house, but we had secret meetings where we talked of oth- 
 er things. 
 
 It was a time of great but secret excitement among the 
 slaves. The hope of one day obtaining our freedom, had 
 been increasing in our breasts. The rumor of those men 
 who were " turning the world upside down," in their con- 
 tention with the rulers of the darkness of this world, had 
 reached us in the old Dominion, The very earnestness of 
 our masters to persuade us that these men were our ene- 
 mies, only strengthened our faith in them. I speak now 
 of the more intelligent among us, and those were usually 
 the most religious, for, mark it where you will, when a mart 
 becomes a Christian, he becomes a man in every respect,
 
 34 
 
 No man is truly a freeman, till Christ has made him free. 
 The invisible thrall which holds the spirit, is broken only 
 by Jesus. He that has known this, can rejoice in this truth. 
 Let Slave-holders dream as they will, the germ of Liber- 
 ty is deeply sown among their best slaves, and the more 
 they seek to crush it, the more it will grow. 
 
 Mr. Livingston often gave entertainments to the gentry 
 around, and standing behind my half brother's chair, I 
 often heard with swelling heart, and burning cheek, of 
 the triumphs of southern policy and the extension of Sla- 
 very. I remember one day the great man dined with us, 
 who lived and died the bulwark of southern Slavery, and 
 yet professed himself a believer in Him who came to 
 preach the Gospel to the. poor, and deliverance to the cap- 
 tives. (Let no man say it was the spiritual captives, and 
 the Spiritual poor only, for I will refute them with the 
 words of the Apostle : " Hearken, my beloved brethren, 
 hath not God chosen the poor of this world, rich in faith, 
 &c." I will refute them with the acts of Christ : did he 
 give sight only to the spiritually blind ? did he give hear- 
 ing only to the spiritually deaf ? nay, for he is the " Sa- 
 viour of the body," as well as of the soul. He says, the 
 Kings of the earth exercise authority over each other, but 
 we must be equals.") I would to God, this great opposer 
 had known the Lord ; far better would it have been for 
 him in that day when it shall be said, " Inasmuch as ye 
 have done it to one of the least of these, ye have done it 
 unto me." 
 
 The next evening after the eventful visit to the hut, was 
 the time for the usual weekly meeting at Sybil's. These 
 were the only religious meetings we really enjoyed. We
 
 35 
 
 had veiy little elsewhere addressed to us in true sympathy 
 with our condition. Jesus Christ, in pity to his poor, des- 
 pised sheep, often speaks to them in open vision. Many 
 think these visions are all superstitious delusions. Some- 
 times they may be, but I believe that God does communi- 
 cate himself marvellously to them ; the child-like spirit of 
 their faith, causing them to see what unbelief hides from 
 other eyes.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 Sybil's Journey. 
 
 There was a mysterious personage living at some little 
 distance, of whom the older slaves told marvellous stories. 
 Sight of this being had been gained by one or two favored 
 ones. Some totally disbelieved in the existence of such 
 a person, and laughed at the more credulous. Many 
 thought or hoped that he was an angel sent from God, to 
 deliver the slaves. Some believed him a wizard ; others, 
 that it was Lucifer himself. Sybil, it was thought, knew 
 more about him than any one else, and she esteemed him 
 a supernatural, but benevolent being. Long before the 
 purple dawn tinged the east, Sybil arose, and putting a 
 little dried fruit, cheese and bread into a basket, set off on 
 her journey to the old man of the mountains. Noon saw 
 her near the place of her destination. She had passed 
 through a thick forest and now came out on the wild and 
 rocky banks of a stream, whose waves washed the shore 
 with a melancholy yet soothing sound. Towards a rough 
 eminence, that jutted out over the water, Sybil now took 
 her way, and ascended the acclivity a little way, to where 
 a clump of trees, round which a vine draped its foliage, 
 effectually screened a small fissure in the ascent. This 
 was the entrance to a cave. Sybil entered, ejaculating a 
 prayer as she went in. All was darkness in her progress 
 down the opening for a few moments : at length she came
 
 37 
 
 out into a lofty cavern. Broken chasms high in the rock, 
 let in the light, and through them, if you clambered up 
 the steep sides of the cave, might be seen the stream from 
 the mountains, and there you ever heard the unceasing 
 voice of its waves, as they greeted the shore. 
 
 Sybil was greatly disappointed to find the inhabitant of 
 the cavern absent ; but it would seem he had not long been 
 away, for a large ancient Bible lay on a table hewn out 
 of the solid rock ; one or two other volumes lay beside it. 
 On another slab of stone, was a wooden plate, bowl and 
 spoon. A homely bed of dried leaves formed the resting 
 place of the anchorite. Long strings of dried fruit and 
 herbs hung upon the sides of the cavern, and a bag or 
 two of parched corn made up the stores of the old man of 
 the mountain. There was an old high-backed chair, and 
 a rude seat made of a board supported by large stones. 
 A dark heavy curtain veiled something in the corner. 
 
 Sybil was for the first time alone here ; but in former 
 visits her curiosity had often been awakened about the 
 veiled corner; yet now, though alone, her reverence 
 would not allow her to raise the curtain. Much wearied 
 with her journey, she sat down in the old chair, and re- 
 freshed herself with the little stores in her basket, gazing 
 about, the while, as if she enjoyed being in this strange 
 abode. She had not been seated long before, through 
 weariness, she fell asleep. All at once, to her, the cav- 
 ern seemed to fill with transparent light, and she beheld a 
 black man, of Titanic stature, around whom twined a 
 huge serpent. The man writhed and grew weak as the 
 serpent coiled around him and darted out his flaming, fork- 
 ed tongue, on which was written, in deadly venom, these 
 4
 
 38 
 
 words, " Fugitive Slave Law." Sybil heard many voices 
 out of Heaven, " Save him ;" and many shrieks from 
 fiends, " Crush him ;" but still the serpent wound his coil ; 
 and Sybil cried out, " Just God ! wilt thou not save him !" 
 She looked, and lo, an infant of perfect beauty came 
 out of a star in the east, and it came near where the man 
 was struggling in the mighty coil of the Serpent, and laid 
 its tiny hands on its voluminous folds ; and the serpent 
 hissed, but had no power to fear down the bold, though 
 harmless child, who began to unwind the death-folds, and 
 la ! the hands, so delicate, at first, waxed stronger with 
 every fold he unwound ! Then the vexed serpent lashed 
 his tail and hissed ; and his eyes glared, and he throw out 
 his forked tongue. But the Holy Infant feared not the 
 venom, and shrunk not from the threatening glare of the 
 serpent's eye ; nor did he quiver to see his fearful convul- 
 sions that shook the earth ! One by one, the coils un- 
 wound, and the more despeiately raged the foe, till at last 
 the whole huge volume of folds fell, and the monster laid 
 dead at the feet of the brave child, and the black man 
 shouted, I am Free ! and the highest Heaven re-echoed, 
 thou art Free ! and amidst the voices of a multitude in 
 praise, Sybil awoke. The old man of the mountains had 
 returned, and his eyes .those spirit-like eyes greeted 
 her as she awoke, trembling by reason of the greatness 
 of that vision. And he said to her, " thy vision was dread- 
 ful, but refreshing in its end, was it not, Sybil ?" But 
 Sybil said, " 'tis sweet to dream, but wo to wake ;" and 
 she wrung her hands and said, " tell me ! tell me ! what 
 will become of the three millions of God's enslaved chil- 
 dren ?" And the old man covered his wonderful eves
 
 39 
 
 awhile, and reclined along his couch, as musing, and 
 Sybil still wrung her hands and cried, " what shall be 
 their fate ?" And the old man said, " cheer thy heart, 
 Sybil, I see a beautiful prospect for the children of thy 
 people." Then he arose and passed his hand over the 
 burning brow of old Sybil, and reverently smoothed back 
 her white hair, and she grew calmer in a moment or two^ 
 and^said, " I came here for advice." " I know all," said 
 the hermit. " Last night, I sat alone, on the shore, in 
 deep prayer, for I know that an angry cloud is gathering 
 over all flesh ! sleep came over me, and as I slept, I 
 dreamed, and I saw in my dream a large hollow place, 
 and a black cow there, who seemed in great distress. As 
 I stood on the verge of the hollow, it was said to me, * the 
 black cow is confined ; there is a heavy fine on any one 
 who shall release her, or ever feed her, or give her drink, 
 and she is in the desperation of hunger and thirst.' I saw 
 her incessantly run up the sides of the hollow to escape, 
 but all in vain. She was forced back again, bellowing with 
 the fierce anguish, and I exclaimed : Oh ! God, what no 
 relief, not a crumb of bread, not a drop of water. There 
 comes a time when they who have done this, shall ask 
 in vain for mercy ; ' for he shall have judgment without 
 mercy, who hath shown no mercy. 1 Then said I, I will 
 go among the multitude, and see if she can be delivered 
 from this inhuman law ; for oh ! God, she perishes before 
 our human eyes. The poor creature rushed up again, but 
 when she heard the voice of my words, she stopped again 
 and lowed meekly. Then the vision passed away and I 
 saw not the end, but the tears were hot in my eyes, and 
 it was said to me, ' Look again.' I looked, and behold !
 
 40 
 
 a fair large field, and a mansion wherein dwelt a noble 
 woman and her family. I saw also a beast of burthen of 
 great growth. It had a keeper, who laid upon it intolera- 
 ble loads, and at length with barbarous goading drove it to 
 desperation, and it broke loose, and walked into thewomens' 
 demesne and lo that seeming beast of burthen was trans- 
 formed into a man of gigantic stature. He became pow- 
 erful and terrible. Then the woman said, ' thou wilt 'not 
 harm me or my children, for we have ever been thy 
 friends.' As she spake, the terror of his dark counte- 
 nance went off, like the appearance of thunder from a 
 summer's day, and the vision passed away. Then was 
 the meaning of the vision made known to me. The 
 black cow in the hollow, is the type of the Enslaved Peo- 
 ple, and she is a just emblem of their domestic servitude, 
 their usefulness, docility, and the natural mildness of their 
 race. There cometh forth from the unjust rulers, a cruel 
 enactment, to make more hopeless and desperate the poor 
 slave, and to cut him off in his flight from bondage. Yet 
 the multitude shall be moved thereat, and shall hear the 
 voice of God's mercy through man. Thou sawest not the 
 end, and the end is not yet, but the time is at hand, when 
 the slave shall be free. The second vision is like unto the 
 first ; the Jezebel, Slavery, hath transformed men into 
 beasts by her witchcrafts. The time hastens, yea, it now 
 is, when these beasts of burthen shall be driven into the 
 fold of a royal woman, and there shall they assume their 
 manhood, and shall become formidable ; yet in gratitude 
 to her and her children*, shall they grow into the calm 
 
 * These two last were actually dreamed.
 
 41 
 
 beauty of a peaceful freedom, and forbear violence in her 
 borders." 
 
 Sybil heard the words of the old man with reverent at- 
 tention and faith. " Thank God," said she, clasping her 
 hands with energy, " there yet is hope. Now tell me what 
 you know of my errand to you to-day, for you say you 
 know all." 
 
 " I will tell you ; this morning ere the morning star 
 touched with her rays the tops of the mountain, I arose 
 and went forth to the shore, where in a vision, an An- 
 gel stood by my side. Among the 'Enslaved Race, 1 
 said he, (now the peculiar care of Heaven) " there is a 
 maiden greatly beloved for her purity, and holiness. There 
 are few of the daughters of men, so free from guile. I 
 am her Guardian Angel. To-morrow, Sybil will visit thee. 
 Tell her to bid Marian go, on the Sabbath-day, to the wat- 
 er-fall by the glen, beyond Sybil's dwelling, called by some 
 the Haunted Glen, and there shall she hear the oracle of 
 her destiny. So the vision left me, and I returned into 
 the cave, but being exhausted with the vision, I again 
 threw myself on the bed to rest awhile. Soon I fell asleep 
 and in my dream I saw a beautiful damsel ; her skin was 
 as amber, for clearness ; her eyes were as the new-born 
 flowers of the morning, breathing out their fragrant soul 
 through their beauty. Her smile was still, and sweet as 
 the repose of an angel. Three youths I saw, who looked 
 upon her with love ; two were of the tyrant-race, and the 
 blood of the oppressor ran proudly in their veins. These 
 looked upon her as the wolf looks upon the young and 
 timid lamb, or the vulture on the meek and delicate dove. 
 
 The third youth was like herself, of the mingled race : the 
 
 4*
 
 42 
 
 fullness of whose soul is yet hidden in the light and tender 
 bud. His love is the fruitage of Eden, growing over her 
 closed walls, and reaching down to exiled man, pure and 
 refreshing. It is the love of Genius, baptized by affection. 
 This young slave who, looking on Marian, sees his heart's 
 ideal of freedom, love and purity, manifested in her, deter- 
 mines nothing, plans nothing, as yet ; only loves. He 
 has only yet become a man so far as to feel himself a 
 slave. I am not permitted, oh Sybil, as yet, to see Mari- 
 an's fate ; but as thou lovest and fearest the Lord of Hea- 
 ven, Earth and Hell, be not bribed, to give her aught, 
 or throw the soothing spell, or do anything that shall black- 
 en thy soul in the day of Eternity. A day of trial is at 
 hand for thee. Go home ; watch and be prayerful ; yea, 
 hasten home," said he, placing his hand on her head, 
 in token of benediction. " Go and refresh the souls of 
 the disciples, wiih hope sweet, though distant. Fear not, 
 thou shall be holpen on thy way." 
 
 Sybil asserts that, on her way, becoming weary, she 
 fell asleep under a tree, and when she awoke, she was in 
 another place, far on her journey, so that she reached 
 home, at early evening.
 
 CHAPTER V11I. 
 In which Gilbert describes a prayer meeting. 
 
 IT was the old fashioned religion, such as Paul and Silas 
 had, such as the Ethiopian eunuch had, such as the three 
 worthies in the Furnace had ; the religion which has had 
 a hard time of it upon this earth, from the days of right- 
 eous Abel until now : the true religion of Jesus Christ, 
 which drew together to poor Sybil's hut, a little handful of 
 God's " bruised wheat," his oppressed and much despised 
 poor. Glad were they to turn from the contempt and cru- 
 elty of man, to the loving kindness of the Beloved of souls ! 
 If this religion were not a reality, I should not want to be 
 a reality myself. Slavery is the greatest of earthly curs- 
 es ; but if I must choose between liberty without a Saviour 
 and slavery with him, I should say give me Jesus in this 
 hell of slavery, rather than the heaven of freedom without 
 
 him. 
 
 ******** 
 
 Again the glorious, full-orbed moon rose in majesty over 
 the superb old forest trees that skirted the lone glen ; 
 again the waterfall glittered in her light, as we came in 
 sight of Sybil's hut. Poor harassed slaves were we ; yet 
 we felt that we were going to ask and receive a draught 
 from the well-spring of eternal life. What though, to 
 a higher civilization, our worship might look ungainly and 
 rudely enthusiastic ? We were owned by him whom we
 
 sought. The rich have much of the bread of this life ; 
 the godly poor have an abundance of " that bread which 
 cometh down from heaven." As we, in our peed, seek 
 unto them for that in which they most abound, so it is often 
 the case that a spiritually hungry rich person, gets his soul 
 well feasted with heavenly manna in the humble gather- 
 ings of the poor. When we reached the hut, we found 
 Sybil, who had just arrived. The little hut was soon in 
 order, and the rustic benches soon occupied. There was 
 an old man, a kind of elder among us, whose name was 
 James. We called him Elder James. He was a man of 
 great power in God, and the sound of his voice was like 
 the voice of a trumpet. He was often mighty in prayer. 
 When all were assembled that night, he commenced thus : 
 " Lord God ! we have not come here to-night to mock thee 
 with form -worship. We come to ask of thce the loving 
 forgiveness of our sins for Christ's sake ; and oh ! thou 
 who wast once a sufferer like us, and for us, give thy poor 
 slave children to-night, a foretaste of glory. Yes, glory, 
 my God ! right down from the eternal throne. Glory, my 
 dear Saviour God, we must ask to-night in thy own dear 
 name. See how poor we are ; see how bruised and beat- 
 en we are, we poor slaves. Come down in our midst, 
 dear Jesus ; break our souls' chains to-night ; make us 
 forget our stripes and leap for joy. Oh, glory ! I feel 
 the running streams of salvation flowing into my soul, 
 sweeter than the honey-comb ! Blessed Jesus ! all thanks 
 and praise to thee. Thou hast heard and answered us to- 
 night in thy great compassion. The fire is running from 
 heart to heart, the all-uniting, all-overcoming love of God,
 
 45 
 
 Jesus is here right in our midst. Let us praise him, let us 
 praise him forever and ever. Amen, and Amen !" 
 
 The power had indeed come down as he prayed. Yea, 
 the Holy Ghost fell on every one of us. I rose next, for 
 my soul swam in floods of bliss, and hallelujahs leaped 
 from my lips ! " Praise God !" I shouted with the full 
 strength of my voice ! Praise God ! Jesus Christ has 
 made me free ! He has bought my soul's liberty with his 
 precious blood ! He has broken the slavish bonds of Sa- 
 tan with his nail-pierced hands! Praise God, my breth- 
 ren ! Praise God, my sisters ! I have seen him with the 
 eyes of my soul my Lord, who was crucified for me. 
 And now they may whip me, they may torture me to 
 death, but they cannot get Christ away from me. Whips 
 cannot do that ; chains cannot do that ; death cannot do 
 that. No, nor hell itself, I paused, but my soul was full 
 to overflowing. 
 
 Next an old man, who sat crouched upon a low seat, 
 his arms folded over his breast as if he were afraid he 
 should lose something, cried out, 
 
 " I* am afraid to stir, for fear I should lose it out of my 
 heart ; my heart so big, full with this great blessing." 
 Shouts of praise filled the air while we spoke. Surely it 
 might be said of us, " the shout of a king was among us." 
 It was all heavenly harmony to me. Next rose my dear 
 sister; she had not joined in the triumphant shout so 
 heartily as the rest, for her young heart was struggling 
 with new trials. But a soft, angelic light tempered the 
 sadness on her brow, as she sweetly said, " Dear friends, 
 
 * Fact,
 
 46 
 
 as I was weeping alone to-night, and thinking of my bles- 
 sed mother, who has gone, and many other things, I seem- 
 ed to hear a low, still voice saying, even unto me, " Let 
 not your heart be troubled," and, as I thought upon these 
 words, my soul's sight opened, and I saw a glimpse of 
 " the King in his beauty," and " the Land that is very 
 far off," and though I could not shout, to-night, the high 
 praises of God, as ye have done, yet I can see by faith, 
 " the land of rest, the saints' delight." So saying, she 
 stepped a little forward in the circle, and commenced 
 singing, like an angel, the inspiring hymn, " On Jordan's 
 stormy banks I stand." All joined in one rich burst of 
 music, through that glorious hymn ; all felt their right to 
 an inheritance which no slave-holder can ever take from 
 them. All, did I say ? No ; there was one who, as we 
 closed, cried out, " What shall I do to be saved, what shall 
 I do to feel as you do ?" This was a young man, a 
 stranger, who sat back in one corner of the room. Mr. 
 Livingston had bought him lately of a trader. "la poor 
 slave," said he, " I come from very dark, heathen place ; 
 I never heard these things like I hear them here. Oh 
 what shall save me ? " We gathered around poor Philip ; 
 a sad spectacle he was, emaciated, scarred, branded ; we 
 preached to him Jesus ; we prayed for him ; and he, poor 
 soul, prayed for himself. Soon he found peace, his dark 
 face beamed with joy. The half had never been told him. 
 I thank thee, blessed Emanuel, for this divine religion. 
 Let nothing take from the slave that faith which is his all 
 in all." Now old Sybil arose after awhile in her reverent, 
 natural dignity. " Oh ! children," said she, " ye love King 
 Jesus, and I tell you to cling to him, for sore troubles are
 
 47 
 
 at hand. I saw Satan, the God of this world, sitting on a 
 throne, and it was all made of golden coin ; and I saw 
 many pillars under the throne linked together with heavy 
 chains of gold. I saw three evil beasts arise out of the earth, 
 and behold ! Satan blew a signal blast, and those beasts 
 arose to the chase, and hunted down our people, through 
 the length and breadth of this gospel land. I saw Satan 
 send forth the strong force to help them hunt us out 
 from the cast, and the west, and the north ; to make our 
 chains sure, and our bonds faster. I looked above Satan's 
 throne, but for a time, I coutd see nothing but black gloom- 
 ing clouds roll thundering along ; no light ! no light ! 
 and I heard the groans of the captive grow deeper, and 
 no light yet ! And the strong force went forth proudly ; 
 but lo ! I saw a still force suddenly meet the strong force, 
 and the still force was mightier than the strong force, and 
 the three evil beasts did in a while quail before it, and 
 shrunk back to the very steps of Satan's throne. Then I 
 looked, and beside me stood a very fair, tall young man, 
 in white, shining raiment, and a lovely pair of wings from 
 his shoulders. What does this mean, thou glorious angel, 
 said I, trembling. ' The throne thou seest,' said he, 
 4 showeih thee, who rules the darkness of this world. The 
 evil beasts are three wicked, powerful men, who will hunt 
 the escaped of thy people, to re-enslave them. There 
 will be a ' time of trouble,' and Egypt's darkness : but the 
 ' most High, who beareth rule over all,' shall take pity, 
 and he shall be in the still force, and thereby shall it over- 
 come the strong force, even unto the end." 
 
 There was silence among us after Sybil ceased, for a 
 moment ; but sudde'nly, the door opened, and our cruel
 
 48 
 
 overseer appeared with several others, his eyes flashing 
 with rage and brandishing the fell scourge, the fit weapon 
 of cowardly tyranny, in his hands. 
 
 " Away with you ! away with you ! " he cried, and 
 they drove us all before them like a flock of sheep driven 
 from some green spot in a desert land, by a troop of rav- 
 ening wolves. We had unconsciously overstaid our time, 
 and now were to receive a severe chastisement.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 In which Gilbert still continues the History. 
 
 We were all taken to the usual scene of punishment, a 
 building, the bare sight of which was to us agony and 
 despair. There they ranged us, and prepared to admin- 
 ister the torture to us, one by one. Marian had never be- 
 fore been subject to such public and violent punishment. 
 I loved my sister tenderly, and besought our 'tormentors 
 to spare her. I offered to take double punishment on my- 
 self. I told him I knew her mistress would be angry, if 
 it came to her knowledge. They could not, they said ; 
 the orders of our master were peremptory, and they should 
 exempt none. The only privilege I could get was, tha^ 
 she should be last, a dreadful one for the tender, sympa- 
 thetic Marian. I had a sort of hope against hope, that 
 something might happen to save her. Who could tell our 
 anguish? Oh ye who coldly speculate on the thousand 
 horrors of our state ye statesmen, clergymen, newspa- 
 per editors, and laymen who are in the war against us, 
 could you but experience the woes of that one night of 
 slavery : the groans, shrieks, lashes, blood and quivering 
 pieces of flesh strewing the ground. Could ye have seen 
 me after I had received my bitter portion, my shirt clotted 
 with blood, my wounded, trembling arms encircling my 
 poor sister, whose turn came next ; could ye, would ye 
 array yourselves against God and the poor slaves ? Oh !
 
 50 
 
 my sainted mother, dicTst them know then the anguish 
 of thy children ? All had received their punishment but 
 Marian ; and now the ruffians coolly prepared to sub- 
 mit the chaste and tender form of my innocent sister to 
 the cruel lash. Sybil and two or three free women were 
 at the meeting, but Marian happened to be the only female 
 slave at the meeting that night. She had already suffered 
 more than her own personal sufferings would have been 
 to a soul like her's, in what she had endured for her com- 
 panions. At the . time when my punishment had com- 
 menced, the poor girl fainted. I made signs to them to 
 attend to her. 
 
 " The lash will bring her to her senses," said the 
 brutes. But she now stood clinging to me with a despe- 
 rate grasp. The minions of the overseer approached us ; 
 she shrieked at their first rude, contaminating touch. I 
 became perfectly mad. I presented myself before her- 
 
 " Over my dead body alone," said I, " you reach my 
 sister." 
 
 They commenced a sharp struggle with me ; but just at 
 that critical moment, Jasmyn rushed in, breathless and 
 trembling with excitement. He extended a paper to the 
 overseer, a paper signed both by Mr. and Mrs. Livingston, 
 requiring that Marian should be pardoned, and returned 
 to them. It seemed to me that the agonies of death were 
 changed to the joys of Paradise within me ! Jasmyn was 
 sent to conduct Marian home happy lot for him, which 
 he would not have enjoyed, had not Master Sedley been 
 fortunately absent I was not permitted to follow her, but 
 ordered home another way. But I saw Jasmyn take her 
 in his arms, for she was entirely exhausted, and go with
 
 51 
 
 Ix3r through the fields, as if she were a bird. Jasmyn told 
 me afterward, how this happy issue was brought about ; 
 it was in this way : As soon as Sybil recovered from the 
 shock which had been given her, when the meeting was 
 broken up, her first thought was heart-felt thankfulness 
 that Jasmyn had not been allowed to join us that evening. 
 Her second thought was, how to rescue Marian. She 
 would have been glad to save all, but she could not. She 
 did not deliberate long, but hurried down to the great 
 house. They had not yet retired for the night. Jasmyn 
 was removing the dishes from the supper-table, when he 
 was told that his grandmother waited, in haste to see him. 
 He hurried to her, as soon as he could, somewhat alarmed. 
 
 " What has sent you here so late, grandmother ?" said 
 he, as she stood at the door. 
 
 " Because," said she, " they have broken up our meet- 
 ing, and driven poor Marian and all the rest up to that hor- 
 rid slaughter-house. If you can do any thing to save her, 
 do it I think if mistress knows it, she may prevent it 
 now, if it is not too late." Jasmyn knew that his master 
 and mistress had retired into a back parlor where, usually, 
 they remained an hour or two after supper, discoursing on 
 family matters, and making domestic arrangements for the 
 next day. He knew they never permitted any one to dis- 
 turb them at that time, and he felt, in some measure, like 
 Esther, when about to go in to the king. But though Jas- 
 myn was, in general, tirnid, he had great courage in ex- 
 tremity, his timidity not being the result of cowardice, but 
 of sensibility. His was a tender, not a mean soul. He 
 went up to the door of the parlor, and knocked gently. 
 Mr. Livingston rose from the couch on which he was re-
 
 52 
 
 clining, saying, as he went towards the door, " who can 
 this person be, who intrudes upon us in this way." On 
 opening the door, he exclaimed, in a tone of anger and 
 surprise : 
 
 " Fellow, who sent you here ?" 
 
 " Master," said Jasmyn, bowing low, " there has been 
 a prayer-meeting at Sybil's and they overstaid their time, 
 and the overseer came and drove them all off to be flog- 
 ged." 
 
 "Well, well, what of all that? " said Mr. Livingston. 
 
 " Why, sir, grandmother has been up, for she said she 
 did not believe Missis meant that Marian should be whipt 
 with the rest." 
 
 " Oh ! she must suffer with the rest," said Mr. Livings- 
 ton, " my orders were that it should be so." 
 
 " I know Marian ought to be punished," said Madam 
 Livingston, " but I prefer, Mr. Livingston, to manage her 
 myself. Marian is my waiting-maid, I cannot do without 
 her services, especially to-morrow, for I am engaged to a 
 dinner party, you know, and she will not be fit to touch 
 me. Write an order for her pardon, if you please, Mr. 
 Livingston." 
 
 Mr. Livingston, as usual, yielded to his lady, for he well 
 knew there would be little peace for him if he did not ; 
 and perhaps, slave-holder as he was, and towards his un- 
 happy colored offspring without natural affection, there 
 might have been, just at that time, some yearning ever 
 his own daughter ! Jasmyn felt so strong a wish that the 
 pardon should be general, that slave as he was, he could 
 not help saying, as his master gave him the order, " Can- 
 not good master pardon all, if they never do so any more.'
 
 53 
 
 " No," thundered out his master, " and if you presume 
 to ask anything more, you shall be chastised yourself. Go. 
 execute our orders, promptly." 
 
 Away went Jasmyn glad of what he had gained, and 
 sorry that he could do no more ; arriving as we have heard 
 only in time to save Marian. On reaching home myself, 
 I went to my young master's room, and as he had not yet 
 returned, I hurried to my own sorry couch, sore enough 
 in body, but glad in mind. Jasmyn stole in to see me be- 
 fore he went to bed. I had hardly lain down after bath- 
 ing my bleeding wounds with God's cure-all, and looking 
 up to him for mercy, when he came in. 
 
 " All is still," said he, " Marian charged me to see you 
 before 1 went to sleep. Gibby, honey, she felt lighter 
 than a bird to me, when I brought her home. Mistress 
 ordered her up stairs ; I heard her scolding her very hard, 
 and it made me feel like death. Now tell me Gibby, can 
 I do anything for you, my poor fellow ? " 
 
 " No, no, but tell me what Madam said to my sister." 
 
 " 1 heard her say, for one thing, that as a punishment, 
 she should never go to meeting to Sybil's again ; but mis- 
 sis don't know that Marian can have a good meeting all 
 by herself. She has got a nice little meeting-house in her 
 own heart, God bless her. No overseer can drive her out 
 of that." 
 
 " Yes," said I, " and Christ for priest, and good thoughts- 
 for company." 
 
 " You know," said Jasmyn, " lean make verses ; some- 
 times I think in verse ; and these lines flowed through my 
 mind, as we came home. I never felt so much joy and 
 
 sorrow at once, Gibby." 
 5*
 
 54 
 
 " I have thee safely in my arms, 
 
 Snatched from the tyrants, cruel j 
 The scourge shall not profane thy charms, 
 
 My bosom's precious jewel ! 
 This moment that I have thee thus* 
 Though from such horror fleeing, 
 I feel not Slavery's burning curse, 
 
 I know another being. 
 And though for our dear, suffering friends, 
 
 My heart with thine is bleeding, 
 Yet love o'er every thought ascends, 
 With light, and power exceeding. 
 The present, fills me while I feel 
 Thy breath upon me glowing ; 
 And bless the moon-beams that reveal 
 
 Those eyes with tears o'erflowing. 
 From pity's tears, oh ! gentle maid, 
 
 Thine eyes new lustre borrow ; 
 Have ever love and grief displayed, 
 
 So beautiful a sorrow. 
 Now let the tyrant use his sway 
 
 The sweetness of this minute, 
 No after-anguish takes away, 
 
 It hath such Heaven within it. 
 Ah ! see ye stars, her raven locks 
 
 Upon my bosom streaming ; 
 And that large, tearful eye, that mocks 
 
 Your dewy evening, beaming. 
 Oh ! know you not, she is all mine, 
 
 As ye look down so sweetly ? 
 Loving to see two suffering hearts, 
 
 For once, blest so completely ; 
 For once, defying all that fate, 
 In after hours pursuing,
 
 55 
 
 And all that tyranny and hate 
 
 Can do to work their ruin. 
 Eternal stars ! by your still light, 
 
 On God's grand altar shining, 
 O witness ye the love we plight, 
 
 Till life's last breath resigning." 
 
 I listened to this song, which to me seemed good, be- 
 cause perhaps I loved Jasmyn so well, for our feelings to- 
 wards the living poet, influence us in our acceptance of 
 his poetry. But my rnind was pre-occupied with one idea, 
 the thought of liberty. Sometimes, looking over the 
 wrongs of my whole race, I prayed God to make me a 
 Joshua to them ; sometimes the domestic evils of slavery, 
 gathering into a storm over my sister's head and my own, * 
 occupied my mind. Then the fevered, wounded state of 
 my body, often would bring back my thoughts to myself. 
 Better for us, if our masters would take the scourges 
 themselves, than leave us to the brutality of their over- 
 seers, usually the basest of mankind.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 In which the narrator resumes the story. 
 
 The upper house looked with indifference and contempt, 
 even upon the superior part of their chattels. A Doug- 
 lass, a Placide, a Brown, might have grown up in their 
 midst, unawares to them. Habitual sovereignty had caus- 
 ed them to look down upon their vassals, as creatures as 
 far removed from their equal sympathy, as the Siberian 
 serf from the tyrant majesty of Russia. They gave a slave 
 no right to love, or hate, or think like themselves. They 
 regarded all attempts of the kind, as subjects of unfeeling 
 sport, or cause of wanton chastisement. Under this illu- 
 sion, the native sentiment and poetry of Jasmyn was a 
 theme of ridicule. The common mass of Americans are 
 contented to take their ideas of all the slaves from bur- 
 lesque representations cf that class whom they have sunk, 
 by their debasing system of slavery, into a state of deg- 
 radation infinitely more vulgar than their natural, savage 
 condition. It is a most infamous and base cruelty, which 
 first crushes and brutalizes a race, and then makes unfeel- 
 ing sport out of that inferiority and debasement to which 
 our own cruelty and injustice has reduced our victims. 
 Let the modern Philistines beware of the African Samp- 
 son, whom they have shorn of his strength and blinded, 
 and are making sport of. His hands are upon the two 
 pillars of their strong house !
 
 57 
 
 The morning after the scenes related in the last chap- 
 ter, just as Marian finished dressing his mother's hair, 
 Sedley, who had just returned, entered his mother's dress- 
 ing-room, his constant haunt, when he thought he should 
 see Marian. A few moments afterward, Marian left the 
 room, saying she had to finish making up some lace in 
 the laundry, and got excused for that purpose. 
 
 " Where in the world," said Sedley; " did that wench 
 get her exquisite taste ? - Your head is better dressed than 
 if you had employed a Parisian Barber." 
 
 " I know it,'' said his mother, " it is just so with every 
 tiling she does ; but I came very near losing her services 
 to-day." 
 
 " How," inquired Sedley. 
 
 " Why, she narrowly escaped a severe whipping. 1 
 gave her permission to go down to Sybil's, to meeting, for, 
 as she never asks to go to dances, and sets up for a saint, 
 I occasionally allow her this privilege. So she went, and 
 I thought no more of it ; but, when your father and my- 
 self, after supper, had retired, as ususl, into the back par- 
 lor, at quite a late hour, who should present himself but 
 Jasmyn ; his grandmother had come and told him that her 
 meeting was broken up, and Marian and the rest had gone 
 to receive a whipping. I knew she would not be fit for 
 me to-day, after being in the hands of our overseer, and I 
 could not spare her at all, on account of the dinner party. 
 We despatched Jasmyn with an order for her pardon, and 
 to have her sent home." 
 
 " And how did she get home ? " said Sedley, his color 
 changing. 
 
 " Jasmyn returned with her," said his mother.
 
 58 
 
 u I am glad Marian escaped," said Sedley ; " she is too 
 pretty to be whipt : but what an insufferable, impudent 
 fellow that Jasmyn is. I wonder he should have presu- 
 med to intrude upon you. His grandmother should have 
 done her own errands. What right has he to meddle with 
 the management of the slaves ? I wish my father had 
 sent some other servant with his message, and had him 
 well thrashed for his presumption." 
 
 " Oh, I do not think," said his mother, " that Jasmyn 
 meant to be insolent." 
 
 " I do," said Sedley, rising and walking about the room 
 in increasing agitation. " You do not know the smooth 
 rascal as thoroughly as I do. 1 wish father would sell him. 
 The sugar plantations in the far south, are the places to 
 bring down such a fellow as he is." 
 
 " I think," observed Mrs. Livingston, " that old Sybil has 
 collected nearly money enough to buy his freedom." 
 
 " My dear mother," said Sedley, " if you are wise, you 
 will induce father not to sell him, unless Sybil will send 
 him to Liberia, for I can tell you a little secret, I have dis- 
 covered. If you let Jasmyn become free and remain 
 about here, you will soon lose your handy dressing-maid." 
 
 " What do you say," said his mother, surprised at this 
 intelligence ; " surely, Jasmyn would not presume to think 
 of anything of that sort, with my girl." 
 
 " He does indeed," said Sedley, " they are very sly 
 about it, but no doubt they are lovers." 
 
 " It may be so," said Mrs. Livingston, " I notice the ne- 
 groes so little except as servants. But if the boy has any 
 idea of courting Marian, I will put a stop to that very 
 speedily."
 
 59 
 
 Marian now entered the room, and Sedley soon left, de- 
 termined, if possible, to have Jasmyn sold ; if he could not 
 do that, he hoped at least, to have him, if made free, sent 
 to Liberia. 
 
 Mr. Livingston's library and his study were two apart- 
 ments, connected together by folding doors. Mr. Living- 
 ston was reading in his study. In the adjoining room the 
 folding doors being nearly closed sat Arthur St. Vallery, 
 looking over some music, with a very pretty, genteel 
 young lady, and apparently quite interested. He per- 
 ceived Sedley as he entered the room. There was ever 
 this sort of agreeable association with Sedley. His ap- 
 pearance was as instinctively associated with evil, as the 
 lowering evening heavens with an approaching storm. 
 
 " Father," said he, seating himself, without observing 
 that any one was in the adjoining room, " I should not 
 have intruded upon you, but I have something of some 
 importance to say to you. 
 
 " And what is that, my son " 
 
 ' I understand Sybil has nearly completed the sum you 
 ask for the boy Jasmyn." 
 
 " Very well, sir, and what is that to you ? said Mr. 
 Livingston, (a little piqued as he frequently was with his 
 son's officiousness in business matters,) " Gibby is your 
 body servant, not Jasmyn." 
 
 " I know it, father, but if you will permit me to advise 
 you, from several circumstances that have come to my 
 knowledge, I would advise you not to sell Jasmyn his lib- 
 erty at all, except on condition that he leaves at once for 
 Liberia. But perhaps it would be as well to sell him pri-
 
 60 
 
 vately, and tell Sybil he had run away ; these free ne- 
 groes are very dangerous neighbors." 
 
 " I know it, my son, but Jasmyn seems a civil boy. 
 What have you against him ?" 
 
 " Father," said Sadley, drawing his chair closer, and 
 speaking in a confidential tone of voice, " I think there 
 will be trouble between him and my mother's waiting 
 maid. If Jasmyn gets his freedom I think he will try to 
 seduce her away, and there will be trouble with them if 
 he remains here. 1 cannot endure to have my mother an- 
 noyed. You know she values the girl very much as a 
 waiting maid. It is her wish that something should be 
 done." 
 
 " But madam must not be too particular about retaining 
 her ; she shall have her as long as possible, but my affairs 
 may require that I should sell Marian. She is a magnifi- 
 cent creature, and would command a splendid sum in 
 New Orleans. 
 
 " But if you do not get rid of Jasmyn, you are liable to 
 lose her at any time." 
 
 " Ah yes, I will send for Sybil and talk with her. I 
 shall not sell Jasmyn away, for I have promised Sybil, and 
 will not disappoint her if she will colonize him. 
 
 Mr. Livingston then resumed his studies, and Sedley 
 left the room, very well satisfied with the mischief he had 
 done. 
 
 Mr. Livingston, like many other opulent gentlemen of 
 his sort, kept open house, and lived in a kind of lordly 
 hospitality, and made expensive journeys in the traveling 
 season. When the negro woman received Mungo Park, 
 there was true hospitality ; but very doubtful is the luxu-
 
 61 
 
 rious sociality of the oppressor's board, which is called 
 hospitality. None can be generous before he is just ; but 
 the time hastens, when in Bible phrase ' the churl will no 
 more be called bountiful.' Dives was doubtless lauded for 
 his hospitality, by those he feasted, while Lazarus laid at 
 his gate, full of sores.
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 A short chapter from Gibby. 
 
 I, Gibby, was nailing up some vines over the study win- 
 dows and elsewhere, and was in a position to see and hear 
 what was going on that day that Master Sedley made his 
 grand move to get rid of Jasmyn. I overheard all that 
 the arch-enemy prompted Sedley to say .1 could see him, 
 though he did not observe me, as the blinds were partly 
 closed. I could see Master Arthur also, and his manoeu- 
 vres ; he was pretending to be still critically and silently 
 examining some new music of Miss Woodville's ; but he 
 was really listening to Master Sedley from the time he en- 
 tered the room. Tired of this game, at last, I heard him 
 say, " I shall do better with this, if we pause awhile, Miss 
 Woodville," and with these words spoken in an under tone> 
 as not wishing to disturb his uncle and cousin, in conver- 
 sation, he threw himself upon the lounge just where the 
 door was slightly ajar, and heard all Sedley said. Two 
 facts Master Arthur ascertained in this manner ; first, that 
 Jasmyn and Marian were lovers ; next that Marian might 
 be sold. While he was digesting this unwelcome news, 
 and entirely forgetful of Miss Woodville, who had taken 
 up a book, and was reading, Jasmyn entered and handed 
 Mr. Livingston a letter. That gentleman read the letter, 
 rose and paced the room several times, and then went up 
 stairs to his lady's room 3 who was now in full array for the
 
 63 
 
 dinnerparty." "My dear," said he, "your brother-in-law, 
 Dr. Woodville, will be here this evening, preach to-mor- 
 row, and he and Lucina will leave Tuesday ; and he very 
 politely hints about my debts to him. I am very sorry, 
 but what pray can I do ?" 
 
 " Why, you need not be at a loss, Mr. Livingston. 1 
 know Dr. Woodville perfectly well ; if we can arrange a 
 match between Arthur and Lucina, no doubt he will be 
 induced to relinquish a part or the whole of his claim." 
 
 " They are now together in the study," said Mr. Liv- 
 ingston. I will send Lucina up to you and converse with 
 Arthur myself on the subject." 
 
 The reader will please to recollect that I was nailing up 
 vines about the house, and when I saw Mr. Livingston 
 leave the room with that letter, I felt moved upon, as the 
 phrase is, to see the play out, and moved my ladder round 
 near the window of Madam Livingston's room, where 1 
 overheard the conversation between my master and mis- 
 tress. Don't start, good friends, you never had a sister" 
 honor at stake as I had. 
 
 When Mr. Livingston left the room, I softly removed 
 the ladder again to its old position. After Mr. Livingston 
 had sent his niece to his wife, he began with Arthur. 
 
 " A very fine girl that, Arthur. How remarkably love- 
 ly she looks to-day." 
 
 "Yes, a very fine girl, re-echoed Arthur; a very 
 charming singer, too, and plays as well as she sings. 
 
 " I sometimes wish she and Scdlcy were not so nearly 
 related, but you are more fortunate in that respect. I 
 know no where so desirable a match. Lucina unites 
 beauty, fortune, and accomplishments. Now is the only
 
 64 
 
 time to secure the prize, for she is going to England im- 
 mediately. Her rich aunt, whose heiress she is, will in- 
 troduce her there into society, and then she is gone. She 
 has not come out yet. I do not know that you could win 
 her, but if you could your joint fortunes would make you 
 at once a millionaire. Now tell me candidly, Arthur, 
 have you not thought seriously of the beautiful young 
 heiress ?" 
 
 " It would be presumption in any one like me. Surely 
 uncle, Miss Woodville has too much sense to think of a 
 person esteemed by his own father so deficient in under- 
 standing, that he must be accounted an infant until thirty." 
 
 " My dear Arthur, whatever were yoor father's ideas, 
 I, your guardian, should consider it so decided a proof of 
 the highest judgment, should you offer yourself to Miss 
 Woodville, that I should at once relinquish my trust to 
 you." 
 
 "Very good, Uncle ; but are you sure I should not 
 have a decided refusal ?" said Arthur. 
 
 " I think not. Blushing apparitions and downcast eyes 
 whenever your name is mentioned, are auspicious tokens 
 for you." 
 
 " Indeed, you flatter me ; but it is an honor I never 
 dreamed of. I must be allowed time to recover from, this 
 delightful surprise which has overtaken me, so that I may 
 address the beautiful Miss Woodville with some self-pos- 
 session." 
 
 " You must be prompt. Her father will be here to-mor- 
 row night, and they will embark for England in a week." 
 
 " How can you doubt my readiness, uncle ?" 
 
 " I am then to consider the matter arranged?"
 
 65 
 
 " If the lady is propitious." . 
 
 The uncle and nephew then parted the one well plea- 
 sed, the other hemmed in and perplexed. After pacing 
 about the room several times, Arthur went to his room 
 and wrote to his friend. I was afterwards a short time in 
 the service of Lewis, and this letter fell into my hands, 
 along with several files of letters given me, to burn up 
 out of the way. The letter was as follows : 
 
 " My Dear Louis, I am in great perplexity. I wish 
 you were with me, to help me out of this entanglement, by 
 your masterly genius, so equal to every emergency. My 
 plan was to satisfy my aunt and uncle, by paying those 
 attentions to Miss Woodville, which may mean nothing or 
 everything, and thus gain time to concert some plan of 
 escape. A true actor may be led almost to believe him- 
 self the character he personates ; and I had become in- 
 terested in the excitement of my own performances, just 
 as a partizan gets up an interest in himself, for the candi- 
 date of his party, be it Cass, Webster, Fillmore or Belze- 
 bub. It is a pleasant stimulus, while it is on, but there 
 is often a terrible re-action. But where is Marian ? you 
 will say, for by the very last mail, went flying, a letter 
 of which a quadroon beauty was the burthen. I often 
 wonder how those hard headed old fellows one meets with, 
 ever brought their conscience under such capital regula- 
 tion, that it never seems to trouble them, do what they 
 will. My conscience is a very inconvenient ingredient in 
 my composition. It gives me a world of trouble. I rose 
 very early the morning after I wrote you last, to go on a 
 rural excursion some distance. The people in the house 
 
 were not up. As I passed a grove near the house, I heard 
 6*
 
 66 
 
 a low voice. It was Marian. She heard me as I ap 
 preached, and rose from her knees, for she had been at her 
 devotions. Her face was bathed in tears. A rosy, dewy 
 blush suffused her face, as she saw me. She hurried on 
 to the house, and I stood looking after her, as one dumb ; 
 but there was such an immediate revelation of innocence 
 about her, as she turned her face from God to me, that I 
 felt condemned. Such thoughts as these crossed me, 
 Has slavery any more assimilation with her high and holy 
 nature, than the Prince of Darkness with the Son of God ! 
 She is Purity's self; I must not pollute her. I rode away 
 with these thoughts, but I went into a company of jolly 
 fellows, and by night, ' the native hue of resolution was 
 no longer sicklied over ' with the pale cast of my morn- 
 ing's thought. My conscience was much more manage- 
 able. However, there was this effect, I devoted myself to 
 Lucina. She is worldly enough not to tax the heart with 
 great emotions. After all, I had not the least intention of 
 deciding upon any thing, when, in comes Uncle Livings- 
 ton, whom the angry destinies and my father, have made 
 Fate to me, and plays me up to the grand finale of an of- 
 fer. I knew if I flatly refused, I was as good as disinher- 
 ited, and that Uncle Livingston, who is an extremely de- 
 cided person, would bear no evasion. I did make an at- 
 tempt to get off by affecting too mnch humility for the 
 honor, but it would not pass. 1 was obliged to submit, es- 
 pecially as the attack came upon me when I was entirely 
 off my guard ; my mind being painfully affected, at the 
 instant, by something that had recalled my thoughts to Ma- 
 rian. Miss Woodville and myself had. that forenoon, 
 been tete-a-tete in the library my uncle reading in an ad-
 
 67 
 
 joining room. The folding doors were nearly closed, but 
 not entirely. Presently entered that promising develop- 
 ment of depravity, cousin Sedley. He made some disclos- 
 ures and proposals to his father, which as the poet hath it, 
 " froze the. genial current of my soul." The bare men- 
 tion of Marian's name magnetized me at once into atten- 
 tion ; so that, while pretending to listen to Miss Woodville, 
 I was really on the alert to hear all that young serpent was 
 saying. 
 
 I learned, to my surprise, that Marian has a lover of her 
 own race, and rather a dangerous specimen of that race, 
 and moreover a descendant of that Sybil whom I had 
 made my confidant, and hoped to make my accomplice. 
 I had the happiness, also, to learn that my uncle in the 
 plentitude of his philanthropy, has a plan in reserve, of 
 selling Marian at the New Orleans market. Another im- 
 portant piece of information which I gained was, that Jas- 
 myn, Marian's lover, would soon have his freedom pur- 
 chased by his grandmother. Sedley, who is as wise as a 
 fox, saw that Jasmyn being free, Marian would not long 
 tarry behind ; and, with characteristic magnanimity, cool- 
 ly proposed to his father, either to sell the boy privately, 
 contrary to his agreement with old Sybil, or only to sell 
 him his freedom on condition of his being immediately 
 transported to Liberia. 
 
 This is an age of progress of all sorts ; and uncle, who 
 is a thought behind the ripeness of the nineteenth century, 
 declined his son's superlative scoundrelism. 
 
 This evening Dr. Woodville arrives ; to-morrow I shall, 
 by force, have to hear two sermons from him. He is es- 
 teemed a great preacher. Homer says, " a man, to be a
 
 68 
 
 good poet, must be a good man." Aristotle has it, that 
 we must believe the orator a good man, or his oratory has 
 no power. Now I know this Dr. Woodville thoroughly. 
 Why, his very method of teaching the gospel, is founded 
 on worldly maxims. Then his whole study is to appear to 
 be what he is not, very smooth and specious and all the 
 while a keen eye for his own interest. He is quite a con- 
 trast to that honest heroic old Abdiel, whom you and I 
 helped to escort across the line last year. You recollect 
 we and a few other celloge boys joined the row in order 
 to restrain the mob a little. He seemed to be in earnest, 
 and, though as a Southerner I repudiate his sentiments, I 
 respect his courage. But Dr. Woodville's preaching is to 
 me a perfect farce. To hear him preach self-denial, hu- 
 mility, and all that, and then see him draw on his per- 
 fumed gloves, ascend his rich carriage, go home and smack 
 his lips over his racy old wine, and choice segars, I tell 
 you it is rich. I have heard him preach a sermon on re- 
 pentance to an aroused audience, and a novice would 
 think him oppressed with the care of souls, and I have 
 seen him return and feast as if he had no soul. I have 
 known him to preach against covetousness, in a missionary 
 sermon, so that, perhaps, many a poor soul felt condemned, 
 if they did not quite empty their pockets ; and the next 
 day sell the mother from her nursing babe, for the sake of 
 a profitable speculation ! This is that Dr. Woodville. A 
 goodly father-in-law have I in prospect. But here comes 
 uncle, and this sheet must for the present go into my 
 secretary."
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 In which the narrator again takes up the story. 
 
 Sabbath afternoon when the great coach rolled away to 
 church, Marian having obtained leave of her mistress to 
 take a walk, gladly saw the vehicle move off. Marian 
 looked up to the soft blue sky that seemed to love her, and 
 said, 
 
 " Oh ! Thou who seest me, be with me where 1 go this 
 afternoon, to that haunted glen, and nothing can make me 
 afraid." 
 
 Then she went on praying inwardly, till she came to 
 Sybil's cottage. Looking in she saw no one, and turned 
 off toward the glen. The long, rich rays of the mellow 
 sunlight streamed through the trees that overshadowed the 
 path ; the wild bee murmured among the flowers ; God 
 seemed to rest in his brooding love over all nature. There 
 was a sweet heavenly holy languor in the hour, and Ma, 
 rian felt the full charm of it. No one enjoys nature like 
 those who commune with God through his works. If Jas- 
 myn were only here, she sighed ; but I must not think too 
 much of him. Everything is keeping Sabbath, thought 
 Marian, as she stepped within the bounds of the haunted 
 glen. The very stream that foil so tumultuously in the 
 waterfall, was gathered here into a lake of crystal clear- 
 ness, that mirrored the thick branches of the venerable 
 trees on its bank. Oh ! it was a rare sight to see our 
 still, spiritual Marian in this spot, The richly sombre
 
 70 ' 
 
 shadows of the trees that skirted the old place ; the warm 
 light of the summer afternoon, softened in golden tinted 
 shadings into a mysterious glowing gloom ; the glen that 
 opened down from the Lake, and grew more and more 
 shadowy, till lost among the hills, made it indeed look like 
 the haunt of angels ! And there was Marian, looking 
 like the very genius of the place, her countenance full 
 of religious beauty. Down she wended her way, and 
 came into the depths of the glen, Seating herself at length 
 on a low, broad rock beside a small waterfall. After a 
 few moments she took from her bosom a little hymn book, 
 and sang a few verses ; but she soon felt that she could 
 sing no more ; a sudden seriousness took possession of her 
 soul so deeply that it oppressed her, and yet she could not 
 come out of it ; but now her heart beat quicker, and her 
 cheek grew pale, for there came, as from the inward thick- 
 ness of the glen, a sweet, solemn voice. It was her 
 mother's voice, but incomparably more melodious than in 
 life, and it chaunted in a low, plaintive, but not despairing, 
 tone 
 
 " What wilt thou for good or ill , 
 Thine, or the Almighty's will." 
 
 Marian trembled, not now for fear of the voice, for the 
 veiy sound of it had given happiness to her soul, but there 
 was a struggle in her heart, for she knew if she consented 
 to endure, she should be called to endurance. She bow- 
 ed her head upon her lap ; how could she, who had al- 
 ready endured so much, how could she bear more !* All 
 the harrassments, vexations and trials of her lot pressed 
 
 * This struggle is not fiction. I knew a person who passed 
 through a similar ordeal.
 
 71 
 
 upon her mind, and she was ready to say, let me die, when 
 the words, Thy Saviour, uttered with the same dulcet 
 plaintiveness struck to her soul. The Spirit triumphed in 
 that moment over the frail flesh, and she stood erect ; her 
 eyes raised to Heaven, flashing through her tears, her 
 hands uplifted, she exclaimed triumphantly, " I will what 
 my Saviour wills, He was made perfect through suffer- 
 ings." At that moment a voice came rushing down the 
 glen 
 
 " Twice and thrice through the Furnace past, 
 Happy and Free, and saved at last." 
 
 All ceased, Marian seemed to arouse as front) a dream, 
 but deeply felt that something new in her destiny, was be- 
 fore her. She gazed up the glen, but nothing bright was 
 there, save the golden glimmer of the sunshine on the 
 heavy old branches. She heard nothing but the low lull 
 of the little waterfall, and the song of the wood-bird. " The 
 vision has passed," said she, and fell on her knees, and 
 prayed. She rose refreshed, and was gathering her shawl 
 about her, when she heard a foot-step, a human foot-step 
 near ; she was startled, but her fears were soon allayed, 
 by the appearance of her mother's former minister, and 
 friend, Jonas Freeman. Jonas Freeman was a true Qua- 
 ker. His peculiar dress, of spotless drab, well became 
 his figure, tall and ample, but not corpulent. None could 
 resist the idea of protecting goodness, which associated it- 
 self with his majestic and vsnerable appearance. 
 
 " Ah ! Marian," said he, as he bent his large, mild eyes 
 upon her. " I rejoice to meet thee here ; and why it was, 
 1 know now, that I felt drawn to take the glen, in my way
 
 72 
 
 home. I have not seen thee since my return to this coun- 
 try. How is thy good mother ? " 
 
 Marian answered, with solemnity, but no sadness, 
 " mother is dead, but not dead and gone. I have heard 
 her voice, this very afternoon." 
 
 " And is thy mother dead, indeed ? " said Jonas. I 
 grieve that I shall no more hear or see that choice woman." 
 
 " I have heard her sweet voice, this very afternoon," 
 repeated Marian. 
 
 " Thou art a good girl," said Jonas, " and God has giv- 
 en thee a pleasant dream of thy mother, here in this quiet 
 place." 
 
 " It was no dream, friend Jones." 
 
 " Well, Marian, I cannot tell how deep a communion 
 God may vouchsafe thee, with those who are gone : but ^ 
 would not have thee too fond of a visionary faith, lest it 
 should seize on thy fancy, and weaken thy attachment to 
 the legitimate object of thy faith ; and that the ideal, ro- 
 mantic spiritual, should supersede or alloy the real, and 
 heavenly spiritual. But how is it with thee and Gibby ? 
 are you well used ? and do things go with you as they 
 used to ? " 
 
 " Gibby will see you, and tell you," said Marian, " I 
 have new and heavy troubles, the Lord knows I have, but 
 some-how I have so long told them only to God, that when 
 I go to speak of them to any one else, I can only ciy and 
 tremble." 
 
 " Do not grieve thyself, my daughter," said Jonas, " I 
 believe thou wilt see better days ; I suppose thou sorely 
 missest thy mother, but ' there is a friend that sticketh clo- 
 ser than a brother ;' thou knowest, Marian,"
 
 73 
 
 " Yes, truly," said Marian, who found a strange plea- 
 sure in weeping before a true friend, " and I believe he 
 will be with me always. He who died for me, will sure- 
 ly do all the rest." 
 
 " Farewell, Marian, said Jonas ; " tell Gibby to come to 
 
 me, if he gets into any trouble, and try to be as near like 
 thy good mother as thou canst be." 
 
 Marian watched him out of sight, as she would a belov- 
 ed father, and then hurried home-wards, lest haply she 
 might have been too long away.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 A short chapter from Gilbert. 
 
 I had, indeed, while nailing up the vines, on Saturday 
 morning, heard all my young master had suggested to his 
 father. To my utter consternation, I had also learned Mr. 
 Livingston's plan of selling my sister for the New Orleans 
 market. But why should I think* it strange that he should 
 sell his own lovely daughter ? he had done similar acts 
 frequently. Every day, parents immolate their children 
 to the great Moloch of slavery. Truly, the slave-holders 
 tire in the condition of those of whom Paul speaks, in the 
 first chapter of Romans, " without natural affection." 
 Yet he had a sort of honor ; for instance, he would not, 
 even for his son, break an agreement with one whom he 
 believed in the lowest form of humanity. The Sabbath 
 had passed. The very reverend Doctor still lingered, and 
 a party was now to be given in his honor, at a neighbor- 
 ing gentleman's seat. The whole upper house were going. 
 The entertainer was celebrated for the sumptuous taste of 
 his parties, and much pleasure was expected. The morn- 
 ing sun rose as fair as if there had been no slavery or 
 death in the world. But we were daily reminded of our 
 lot at Livingston lawn, I was going to my young master's 
 room, when poor Jasmyn met me with a sad countenance. 
 What is the matter, Jasmyn, said I, in an under tone. 
 
 "Master Sedley told me last evening," said he, "that he 
 meant to have me severely punished."
 
 75 
 
 " I asked him what I had done. He said he would tell 
 me when he punished me, and that I might expect it to- 
 night." 
 
 "Run away," said I. 
 
 "I would," said he, "were not grandmother about ready 
 to buy my freedom, and that would perhaps cut off my 
 chance if I had not the good success to get clear off. No, 
 Gilbert, I must look to God. May he help me." With 
 
 these words we parted. 
 
 ****** 
 
 There was a sort of being about the house and planta* 
 tion who was called Pete. He was one of those strange 
 creatures who are over-witted in some respects, and under- 
 witted in others. To the whites, he was a subject of much 
 mirth. Pete was of the lowest order of plantation slaves; 
 short, thick, and of a grotesque appearance. He was not 
 a regular field hand, but ran on errands, and did other 
 light jobs. I was employed about the garden after having 
 assisted at Master Sedley's morning toilet, attending t<> 
 some favorite plants belonging to him, when this Pete came 
 up scratching his head. 
 
 "Massa Arthur," said he, "wants to see you down by 
 do grove. De ole fellow stirring up a muss, I spose." 
 
 I immediatly went down. There was Master Arthur! 
 
 " Gilbert," said he, " I suppose you heard what Sedley 
 said, Saturday morning, as well as I. " 
 
 " Yes, sir. " 
 
 " What do you think of it ? " 
 
 " I think, " said I, " but I must not tell my thoughts. " 
 
 " Why, you know, Gib, Sedley wants Jasmyn out of the 
 way, because he has designs upon your sister himself; now
 
 76 
 
 what is to be done, Gibby, what can I do for you ? you 
 know I am disposed to assist you. All the while we were 
 talking I could see Pete skulking round among the trees, 
 at hearing distance, trying to pick up something ; for 
 when any mischief was brewing, Pete was in his element, 
 and had as many tricks as a fox, till he got together the 
 heads of the matter. 
 
 " Master Arthur, " said I, " I think if Mr. Livingston 
 knew this conduct of his son towards my sister, he would 
 prevent it. " 
 
 " How can you think so, " said Master Arthur, " when 
 you know uncle and aunt would give their spoiled son the 
 universe if they could ?" 
 
 " It may look strange to you, sir, but you had really 
 better mention this to your uncle, only tell him young 
 Master loves my sister, and I know he will prevent it. " 
 
 " You are mistaken, " said he, and left me a little vexed 
 that I gave him no better expedient. Pete threw himself 
 in his way as he went towards the house, and I heard him 
 say in his muttering way, " Tis a wise son dat knows his 
 own dad, and a wiser broder to know his own sis. " 
 
 " What are you muttering ? " said Arthur. 
 
 Pete repeated his aphorism. 
 
 " What do you mean ? " said Arthur. 
 
 " Only that the wind blows strong from the east, and 
 there. will be a storm. " 
 
 " Good, Pete, " said Arthur, " here is a piece of silver 
 for you if you will tell the truth. " 
 
 " They say de trute is as cheap as a lie ; but it isn't this 
 time, for Massa will only give me a lick for a lie, but here
 
 77 
 
 is good money for de trute. Well, Massa Arthur, how 
 many daughters Massa Livy lost ? " 
 
 " Three, Pete ; what in nature are you driving at ? " 
 " Three ? count again ; one more almost lost, half sold." 
 " I don't know what you mean, Pete, " said Arthur. " 
 " Chew upon it, Massa ; may-be you will tass out de 
 meaning. Poor Pete knows, but don't want his wool pull- 
 ed for telling." 
 
 I saw by Master Arthur's looks that he did soon tas 
 out the meaning. He rejoined me on the garden steps. 
 
 ".I know now, what you meant, " said he, to me. Pete 
 has blown the whole business, and I was blind not to sec it 
 before. " I then told him of Sedlcy's design to punish 
 Jasmyn. He assured me he would use all his influence to 
 prevent it. I knew why Master Arthur was so much in- 
 terested, and was determined to oppose his plans. Yet I 
 was glad to avail myself of his good will to save Jasmyn, 
 for I feared he would be chastised cruelly. 
 
 7*
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 From the narrator. 
 
 To those who see aright, the russet garb of honesty is bet- 
 ter than the woven gold and purple of guilty wealth. And 
 however beautiful by rules of art, may be the stately man- 
 sion of the oppressor, to the true vision it looks but deso- 
 lately fair, the prison of a condemned soul. Who has not 
 felt a weight upon their heart, looking at the lordly man- 
 sions of the guilty great, which has been relieved by the 
 sight of some humble dwelling, smiling out through the 
 trees, where lived some holy laborer, in the open sight of 
 God and Heaven. 
 
 The seat of the Charlton family, where the entertain- 
 ment was to be given, to which our family were invited, 
 was to those who look only at the outside, a magnificent 
 place. But how did the slaves look upon it, as they went 
 or returned from their daily toil, and saw its stateliness at 
 a distance ? To them it was the manifestation of their 
 master's power over them, the seat of rule. " Wo to them 
 who build their houses by wrong, who use their neighbor's 
 service without wages." Little place had such thoughts, 
 in the hearts of the party that gathered at the Charltons. 
 They were not like one of old, who said, " Let me not 
 cat of their dainties." Although given in honor of a dis- 
 tinguished clergyman, yet as he was largely and fashiona- 
 bly connected, the assemblage was a gay one, and with part
 
 79 
 
 of them, a convivial feast. The dinner came off at early 
 evening, and after dinner, the glass circulated freely 
 among the gentlemen. Both of our young gentlemen re- 
 mained ; but Mr. Livingston retired as soon as the dessert 
 was removed, having letters of business to write at home. 
 Arthur observed Sedley stealing away, after he had done 
 sufficient honor to the sparkling champagne. It was an 
 unusual self-denial, he knew, for Sedley to leave so soon 
 these elegant convivialities. And in truth, the self-styled 
 chivalry do honor to their boasted descent from those grace- 
 ful, yet graceless children of the evil-one, the Cavaliers, 
 and the poor descendants of the Round-heads, ape them, 
 and toil after them in vain, being too much in the honest 
 bustle and rough business of life, to come near their lazy 
 ease and elegance. What maud's the name ? they really 
 are the nobility of the land, and the rest but vassals, per- 
 force, for Mammon's sake. Yes, it needed a strong im- 
 pulse to draw Sedley from such a scene. Arthur, whose 
 suspicions were now fully awake, at once apprehended his 
 motive ; and as soon as he could, excused himself, also. 
 Having his eye upon Sedley, he had been unusually spar- 
 ing in his use of the wine, but Sedley was free in his liba- 
 tions. Arthur hurried home determined to expose Sedley 
 to his father, and prevent both Jasmyn's chastisement, and 
 Sedley's farther intercourse with Marian. .As he drew 
 near the house, he saw a light in his Aunt's dressing-room. 
 Through the waving window curtains, he saw Sedley in 
 earnest conversation with Marian, who seemed to be weep- 
 ing in great grief. He listened and overheard him say 
 " The paddle is ready and everything prepared ; but one 
 word from you, will save him this chastisement; come, will
 
 80 
 
 you consent." Arthur could hear no more, but ran into 
 the house, and went in haste to the study where his uncle 
 was. But he knew he must be cautious, to ward off sus- 
 picion from himself. " Uncle," said he, " will you send 
 a carriage for Dr. Woodville and the ladies. I had to leave." 
 
 " And where is Sedlcy ? " asked Mr. Livingston." 
 
 " Here at home, very strangely, in Madam's dressing- 
 room, with Marian." 
 
 "With Marian," said Mr. Livingston, in a tone of sud- 
 den, painful surprise ! " what has lie to do there with her 
 alone." 
 
 " Ah," said Arthur, with a careless, jocular laugh ; 
 " did you not understand Sedley's hurry to get Jasmyn off 
 to Liberia ? Jasmyn loves Marian, and will, no doubt, 
 buy Marian's freedom, eventually, and marry her. Scd- 
 ley loves her too well for this." He said no more. 
 
 Mr. Livingston rose at once from the table, and exclaim- 
 ing " Is it possible," left the room in haste. Ascending 
 the stairs, he heard Sedley say, " you are so obstinate, 
 and foolish, I swear I will have Jasmyn sold to-morrow, 
 for the far south." At these words, Mr. Livingston hastily 
 entered the room, " Sedley," said he, sternly, " leave this 
 room instantly, and never dare meddle with your mother's 
 servant again, or I will disown you." Sedley, headstrong 
 with wine, swore he would do as he pleased. This excit- 
 ed his father, who forcibly ejected him from the room, and 
 locking the door, passed on to his own apartment, and 
 sent Marian to her own room. Meantime, Sedley, per- 
 fectly mad with wrath and wine, rushed down stairs. In 
 his way, he met Pete, who muttered, " Massa Sedley beat 
 vie bush, Massa Arthur catch de bird." Hearing this, he
 
 * 81 
 
 rushed on, as if by evil fiends driven, to the library. On 
 entering the room, at sight of Arthur, he poured out a vol- 
 ley of oaths and curses, and drawing his bowie knife, made 
 a sudden pass at Arthur, and wounded him. Arthur, how- 
 ever, succeeded in disarming him : but he seized a double- 
 barreled gun, which was loaded. A scuffle ensued, in 
 which the gun went off, and the whole charge entered the 
 breast of the unfortunate Sedley, who fell dead on the floor, 
 a mangled corpse ; while Arthur, faint from loss of blood, 
 and the horrible struggle, swooned, and fell beside him. 
 The dreadful concussion caused by the gun, brought Mr. 
 Livingston and the whole household, at once. What could 
 exceed the consternation and dismay of the unhappy father, 
 when he entered the room. There lay his only son, the 
 centre of his proudest hopes, and strongest affections, a 
 blackened corpse ; and there his nephew, his arm wouud- 
 ed, and in a death-like swoon. Blood and brains strewed 
 the magnificent carpet, and shattered wainscot. The man, 
 who had ruthlessly violated, all his life, nature's tenderest 
 ties, among his wretched slaves, now stood aghast, over- 
 whelmed, but not instructed, by this fearful retribution. 
 Soon, he alternately raved like a madman, or kissed the 
 lifeless remains of his son. Recovering himself a little, 
 he motioned to some slaves to take Arthur away. " Take 
 that man," he cried, " to his own room, till he is able to 
 give some account of this bloody work. And run some of 
 you for Dr. Morris." As Arthur was borne away, a car- 
 riage drove up to the door, and the voices of Mrs. Livings- 
 ton and Lucina, gay and laughing, were heard in the hall. 
 " Do not let her come in here, for Heaven's sake,'' cried 
 Mr. Livingston. But it was too late ; they entered the
 
 82 
 
 room. A wild, long scream of anguish came from the 
 wretched mother, succeeded by a fainting fit. She was 
 borne away from that dreadful scene, by her husband and 
 Miss Woodville. Dr. Woodville was not present ; he had 
 been invited to remain with the Charlton's till the next day. 
 Master Arthur's wound was not severe. It was dressed by 
 a skilful surgeon, and about midnight, after he bad-slept, he 
 was able to be present, at the coroner's inquest. He stated 
 that he was in the library reading, when the deceased en- 
 tered in a state of intoxication ; that he drew his bowie 
 knife and rushing upon him, swore he would kill him ; 
 that he (Arthur) disarmed him, after receiving a slight 
 wound ; that the deceased then seized the gun, and he 
 strove to get it from him, and, in the struggle which en- 
 sued, the gun went ofF; that he knew no more after that. 
 After giving his evidence, he was again led to his chamber. 
 
 But where was Marian all this time, the innocent occasion 
 of all this mischief ? Marian came with the rest of the 
 household, when the report of the gun gathered them all 
 to the fatal spot. 
 
 As she beheld that sight, she forgot her own deep wrongs, 
 and wept that such an unprepared soul had passed away 
 to the bar of God, Yet her commiseration was mingled 
 with awe at Heaven's justice, and providentiiil interference 
 for her rescue. Jasmyn came and whispered to her to re- 
 tire, for, said he, they will blame you for this ; upon that 
 suggestion, Marian left the room, but when her mistress 
 was carried to her chamber, she knew she was expected to 
 attend her. She went in, therefore, and used every means 
 to facilitate her mistress' recovery. 
 
 The house was filled with friends before morning ; tlio
 
 whole neighborhood being alarmed. Early in the morn- 
 ing, Mrs. Livingston ordered some coffee, which Pete 
 brought up. After taking it, being alone with her hus- 
 band, she requested him, now she was more composed, to 
 tell her what had led to the sad catastrophe of the preced- 
 ing evening. He frankly laid open to her the whole chain 
 of circumstances, which he believed had led to the melan- 
 choly event. The wretched, but guilty mother, who knew 
 that her criminal indulgence of her son's wickedness had 
 laid the foundation of this calamitous catastrophe, instead 
 of taking to heart the lesson this appalling event contained, 
 began to upbraid poor Marian, and the whole violence of 
 her feelings spent itself upon her, and Arthur. " Oh, " 
 said she, " I will never, never see that artful, unprincipled 
 wench again ! My poor boy was not to blarne ! she was 
 the cause of all this. I never shall rest, husband, any, till 
 you sell her to the New Orleans traders. " 
 
 " Be patient, my dear, " said her husband; " all shall 
 be as you wish. As for Arthur, I feel as badly as you do. 
 I mean to give him up his estate, and send him out of my 
 sight. " 
 
 " Do get rid of Jasmyn too, dear husband; I never can 
 bear to see any one that has been concerned in this matter. 
 Order Marian to keep her room until you sell her. " 
 
 " What shall be done with Gibby, " said Mr. Livingston. 
 " I think I had better sell him to Arthur. " 
 
 " I do not care where you sell him, " said this discon- 
 solate mother, " so that I see him no more. Ever since 
 my poor Sedley was an infant, Gib has been his body ser- 
 vant. He will never get a master to manage him so com- 
 pletely as Sedley did. "
 
 " Gibby is a tolerably good faithful boy, " said Mr. 
 Livingston. 
 
 " If he is, " said Madam, " it is entirely owing to Sed- 
 ley. He was naturally proud, but Sedley conquered him. 
 If he bad lived, we sbould have had our negroes under bet- 
 ter discipline than they are now. I remember when he tied 
 up Gib with his own little hands, when he was but a child, 
 and chastised him. He would leave off, wipe the perspira- 
 tion off his little rosy face, and begin again. He really 
 seemed to make it a matter of duty, and Gib never dared 
 to disobey him since. Oh, my poor boy, what a loss he is 
 to you, and me, and his country. Don't you think if he 
 had lived he might have equalled Mr. Calhoun ? " 
 
 " I do not doubt it, " said her husband. 
 
 Some one then entered the room to take orders about 
 the funeral, which threw Mrs. Livingston into hysterics, 
 and put an end to the conversation. Arthur received, in 
 the course of the forenoon, the following letter: " How- 
 ever we may acquit you of any designed attack on our 
 dear .Sedley, neither myself nor Mrs. Livingston can see 
 you again, at present. I have engaged a lawyer to come 
 after the funeral, who will arrange all the business between 
 us. I mean to give your property into your hands for a 
 certain compensation, and of course you will then leave a 
 place, which, if you have any sensibility, must be very 
 gloomy to you. Of course Miss Woodville will, after this, 
 entertain no thoughts of a marriage connexion with you. I 
 also wish to sell Gibby to you as a servant. Immediately 
 after the funeral of my lamented Sedley, every thing relat- 
 ing to these matters will be arranged ; meanwhile Gibby 
 can attend you. " H. LIVINGSTON.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Gilbert takes up the story. 
 
 I was soon made acquainted with the new plans. Pete, 
 who seemed almost endowed with ubiquity, at such times, 
 had managed to overhear the bed-chamber conversation. 
 He was, as the reader knows, sent up with coffee for Mad- 
 am when it commenced, and, when he left the room man- 
 aged to squeeze himself into a little jog near the chamber, 
 risking, in order to gratify his curiosity, the chance of a 
 drubbing. The next pleasure to him after hearing news, 
 was to let it out. While I was preparing something for 
 Master Arthur, Pete came round me, brimful. 
 " Guess Tommy will have a new Massa. " 
 " What for, Pete, " said I, in his own manner. 
 " Wonder if Massa Artur lick so hard as de dead 
 one." 
 
 " Think he will have a chance to lick me ? " said I. 
 " Guess so, and not long first eider. " 
 " What think they will do with Marian ? " 
 " How should Pete know ? Guess more putting up hands 
 to pray than ever. " 
 
 " For why, Pete ? come, tell me, here's a cent." 
 " What for place New Orleans ? what sort of a white 
 nigger is a slave driver ? Oh, Jeffery, " said he, sudden- 
 ly turning the conversation, " how they are mourning for 
 
 young Massa. Poor Pete's head miss his hard tumps 
 8
 
 86 
 
 any way, he won't knock it into jelly this day ; but I go 
 
 cry with de rest, woful enough. " 
 
 ******* 
 
 I now knew exactly my fate, and the impending doom 
 of my sister. The extreme confusion of the house, and 
 Master Arthur's temporary confinement to his room, made 
 this a most favorable opportunity to escape. But another 
 incident occurred that morning which looked still more fa- 
 vorable. Old Sybil came up to .condole with her former 
 master and mistress. After some other conversation, Sybil, 
 who knew pretty well Mr. Livingston's embarassments, 
 ventured to say: >" I spose just at this time, Master, a lit- 
 tle money w.ould n't come amiss, and 1 got all the money 
 together to buy Jasmyn. " Sybil felt a little in haste from 
 some fearful intimations of Jasmyn's danger that had 
 reached her. 
 
 44 Come after the funeral, " said Mr. Livingston. 
 
 " No, no, " said his wife ; " 1 must send to town for 
 mourning, and must have money ; besides, Jasmyn I can 
 see no more. Do, dear husband, let Sybil take him. Dr. 
 Woodville can arrange it all for you. " 
 
 Jasmyn attended his happy old grandmother home a 
 free man ; yet feeling himself but half free, while we were 
 slaves. 
 
 Marian told me she watched him from the window ; that 
 he looked up., and held up his free papers. 
 
 " Thank God," said Marian, " he is free at any rate, 
 whatever be my fate," 
 
 I sent up, late in the afternoon, two slices of bread for 
 Marian's supper ; between them I put these lines: " To
 
 87 
 
 morrow is the day of the funeral ; now is our time ; have 
 
 ready a small bundle and be at the window at dark. 
 
 ******* 
 
 It proved a dark, rainy evening, favorable for our pur- 
 pose. Marian stood by the window for some moments, 
 her heart fluttering, and the little bundle in her hand. Oh, 
 what ages of agony and suspense in that short space. None 
 but a slave about to escape, can tell what she then experi- 
 enced. 
 
 " Great God ! " said she, " help me, or I shall die. " 
 Presently sho saw, through the darkness, the figure of a 
 man coming towards the place. He stopped under the 
 window, and hemmed slightly. She knew the voice and 
 looked out. It was me. I instantly placed a ladder against 
 the window. Marian lightly descended, and I, hiding the 
 ladder behind some trees, led Marian a little way through 
 the wood into the road before I spoke a word. I then told 
 her that I had asked Master Arthur's leave to go a short 
 distance on an errand. 'He is not half so suspicious as 
 poor Master Sedley was, ' said I, ' and he is confined to 
 his chamber, and I do not believe will think of me again to- 
 night ; more especially as he has some new books to read. 
 We went on until we reached Sybil's cottage. Looking 
 in to see who was there, we saw Jasmyn alone Sybil be- 
 jng engaged at the great house. I tapped at the door, and^ 
 when Jasmyn opened it, and saw us, he was ready to leap 
 for joy. 'Be calm,' said I, 'we arc not all free ; Marian 
 and I have only stopt a moment in our flight to say good 
 bye. If you want to know where we are, go in a day or 
 two, to Jonas Freeman's ; but not before that time, or it 
 may breed trouble.
 
 " I do not want to part with Marian so soon, " said Jas- 
 myn. " And how will she be able to travel all night in 
 the rain ? " Cannot we conceal her here for a couple of 
 days ? " 
 
 " No, I will not risk her for an hour, " said I, " for 1 
 know if any one was to come along, your eyes shine so, 
 and you look so glad, they would know by that she was 
 here. So, good bye. God bless you, dear Gibby, God 
 bless you my dear Marian." And now Marian's heart was 
 much lighter than before. She had seen Jasinyn, and she 
 traveled on, regardless of the pouring rain. 
 
 At length we came to the banks of a river, which we 
 were to cross in our way. 1 knew where there were sev- 
 eral fishing boats, and loosening one, we stepped in ; Ma- 
 rian crept under the cuddy, and I rowed across. I threw an 
 old cloak over Marian, and she fell asleep. When she 
 awoke we had reached the shore near the little Quaker 
 settlement where Jonas Freeman lived. The dwelling of 
 Jonas stood a little without the village. It was built of 
 stone, and, like himself, ample, plain and substantial. The 
 morning star now just appeared above the horizon's pur- 
 pling edge the storm was over; the winds and waters 
 were sighing themselves into rest, when we drew near the 
 truly hospitable mansion. Being long familiar with the 
 place, I went up around to the back part of the house and 
 whistled three times three a signal well understood by 
 the master of the house, should he be awake. To my re- 
 lief, a window was soon thrown up, and the well-known, 
 welcome voice of Friend Jonas enquired, ' who is there ?' 
 It is Gilbert, said I, Very quickly afterwards, the door 
 was opened by our friend ; we were welcomed most kind-
 
 89 
 
 ly, and the door was carefully re-fastened. The wife of 
 Jonas was dead. His family consisted of himself, his only 
 child, a daughter, and an elderly female domestic, Dorcas 
 Hart. " Dorcas and Aimse," said he, " are not yet 
 up, and I do not like to disturb them yet, for they both 
 worked hard yesterday ; but I will have a good fire for you 
 presently ; you must be chilly, out in the rain so all night. 
 Friend Marian, step into that room, and go to the ward- 
 robe ; remove thy wet clothing, and put on whatever thou 
 canst find there suitable for thee. I will get thy brother 
 some raiment of mine." Marian gladly obeyed Jonas, 
 and soon returned comfortably clad. The warmth of the 
 fire soon made us forget the chilling storm of the night. 
 Jonas drew out a shining table of black oak, and spread 
 over it a snow-white cloth ; then placed thereon dishes 
 that sparkled with cleanly clearness knives as bright as a 
 dollar fresh from the mint, and spoons it was a pleasure to 
 eat with. Then he set before us food which, though plain t 
 was so well prepared, that it seemed to us, poor, hungry 
 travelers, that we had never seen such a feast. The 
 whitest hominy, the nicest bread, the sweetest milk, the 
 richest cheese, and the most luscious fruit we had ever 
 yet eaten. 
 
 Dorcas soon came down stairs with her new checked 
 apron, her small figured dark print, well starched, and her 
 pearl white neckerchief folded in front. Her homely, but 
 cheerful face, expressed the utmost quiet, content and kind- 
 liness. She greeted us very pleasantly, and seemed to 
 want to make us feel her part of the welcome ; and the 
 welcome of the domestic is ever an important part of the 
 
 family hospitality to strangers. In a few moments after 
 8*
 
 90 
 
 came the fair Aimee, the charming daughter of Jonas. 
 Aimee was a very lovely girl, but it was not her graceful 
 form, her fine features, her eyes so lustrous and soft, nor 
 yet those hyacinthine and golden locks that clustered back 
 in such rich burnished waves from her open brow, these 
 alone, were not what made Aimee so beautiful. It was 
 wisdom, dwelling with meekness, and mental elevation, with 
 deepest love that shed around her that beauty which the 
 imagination of art would give to an angel. 
 
 " Thou seemest very much fatigued, " said she to Mar- 
 ian. " I have made up a good bed for thee in a quiet room, 
 where thou may'st feel perfectly safe for to-day, certainly ; 
 and father, had'st thou not better take Gilbert to his room ? 
 our friends look weary. " So saying she took Marian 
 affectionately by the hand, and passing through the hall, 
 led the way up stairs to a retired room. Marian was struck 
 with the neatness and comfort of the apartment such a 
 contrast to the home arrangements of those who love to 
 live in a vain show. A neat white matting, curtains of 
 dark muslin, and plain old fashioned furniture of black oak, 
 were the equipments of a room which, from generation to 
 generation, had been sacred to Christian hospitality. From 
 the large old fashioned windows you looked out upon an in- 
 spiring landscape, now adorned with new tints of beauty 
 by the morning light. Here Aimee left Marian. After 
 giving heartfelt thanks to Him who had led her thus far, 
 Marian slept on a better bed than she had ever rested upon 
 before. So deep was her refreshing sleep, that when she 
 awoke in the afternoon, she was much restored, and was 
 enjoying that delicious calm which succeeds a long unbrok- 
 en sleep, when Aimee entered the room.
 
 91 
 
 " Hast thou slept well ? dear Marian, and wilt thou 
 come down now, that we may see thee a little while be- 
 fore it is time to leave ? thou may'st have heard what John 
 Bunyan says of his pilgrims lodging in a chamber called 
 ' Peace. ' We call this chamber ' Peace,' for here is 
 where many a wayworn pilgrim has rested. My father has 
 been on a visit of duty to England ; we had not much 
 company while he was gone, but now we shall have pil- 
 grims. " 
 
 So they came down stairs into the sitting room ; here 
 was Jonas with his benignant smile ; myself much refresh- 
 ed, and Dorcas, with her clear, calm, motherly face, busied 
 in placing on the table a substantial and agreeable meal. 
 It seemed to do them all good to entertain us, unfortunate 
 ones, with the most considerate hospitality. After we had 
 done honor to the good things so bounteously set before us, 
 we two withdrew into a parlor with friend Jonas, who then 
 laid before us his plans. 
 
 " To-day, " said he, " is the day of the funeral ; they 
 will hardly think of pursuing thee to-day ; but to-morrow 
 the chase will be up. I will take thee and Marian to the 
 old hermit. He will conceal thee awhile in the cave, 
 which is not on the track the pursuers would be likely to 
 take ; and, if friend Marian does not object, I may chance 
 to bring Jasmyn there. " 
 
 Jonas then had a light covered wagon prepared. At 
 the appointed hour, after many affectionate parting words, 
 we took leave, and our good friend drove us off towards the 
 hermit's. We arrived in safety. Entering the cave wo 
 found the old hermit asleep. The moon-beams streaming 
 down on his low bed, discovered to us a face and form
 
 92 
 
 which must have once been handsome and noble, but now 
 showed advanced age. Jonas, to whom he seemed well 
 known, aroused him, and said to him " Paul, 1 have 
 brought thee these two friends to be thy guests for a day 
 or two, and, as thou hast not provisions enough for them 
 thyself, I have brought some with me. " He then brought 
 in from his wagon plenty of food ready cooked. 
 
 The old man welcomed us kindly. After Jonas depart- 
 ed, he prepared for Marian a bed of dried leaves, and bade 
 me lie down by his side. 
 
 When the light of dawn shone through the apertures of 
 the cave, the hermit and myself arose and went to the wa- 
 ter to bathe ; and, that done, we offered up prayer to the 
 Lord of life and light. After we returned, Marian went 
 to the stream. She also bathed, and then kneeling down 
 on the shore, commended herself to the God of the fugi- 
 tive. She arose with renewed courage, but it was ready 
 to sink away again, as she espied two men muffled in 
 cloaks. She ran towards the cave, but they gained upon 
 her. How relieved was she to hear from one of them the 
 voice of Jonas. 
 
 " Thou needest not flee so fast ; here are none but 
 friends. " 
 
 She looked round and blushed to see that Jasmyn was 
 with him. They now entered the cave, and many greet- 
 ings passed between us. But there was a cloud on the 
 brow of the hermit. After James had read a portion of 
 Scripture, and opened it to us, we came around the rocky 
 table, and, after a pause of silent thanksgiving, enjoyed the 
 bounties of Providence. How pleasant the social meal 
 when piety and love sweeten the enjoyment, and exercise
 
 93 
 
 ;ind bathing prepare the body to receive it. Yet we ate 
 our bread with trembling, for we were fugitives. After 
 breakfast, Jonas said, " Friends, you will leave us to-night. 
 Jasmyn wishes to share.your perils ; and, though it may 
 seem sudden, it is not without deep thought that I advise 
 my young friends Jasmyn and Marian to be married here, 
 ere they begin their journey. " We all saw the wisdom 
 and propriety of the step ; ' but where, ' said I, ' is the 
 Priest ? ' 
 
 " If thou wishest the Friend's ceremony, here are wit- 
 nesses, " said Jonas; " and if thou prefercst the other, 
 Paul is a priest. But we need not be in haste ; we have 
 the day before us. I want now to tell my children what 
 I have done and heard the past night. After leaving you 
 I went on directly to the place where Sybil lives. I found 
 her concerned lest Jasmyn should be implicated in your 
 flight. ' Be assured,' said I, ' if here, he will be immedi- 
 ately arrested, so thou must give him up to me for a little 
 while, and bye-and-bye he will either send for thee to a safe 
 place, or come for thee.' ' Do as you will. ' said Sybil. 
 Then I enquired when the flight was discovered, and what 
 steps were taken ? And I will give the story in her own 
 words. ' I told Jasmyn, ' said she, ' to stay here and keep 
 house, for if I did not go up yonder now, in the time of 
 trouble, it would be thought strange. So I returned to the 
 great house to stay till after the funeral, and do all I could. 
 It was a desperate rainy evening, but I went on. Some- 
 thing kept saying, there will be some missing to-night 
 till the way. But such a fuss and stir as there was when 
 I got there ; so many relations, friends and neighbors com- 
 ing and going, there was no time for any one of them to
 
 94 
 
 think about run-aways, thank God. They got th3 mansion 
 in fine order by noon next day, and a great feast for the 
 visitors half what they came for, and the other half curi- 
 osity. Ah, me ! there was poor Master Sedley, laid out 
 in state in the grand coffin. Better, yes, better a pine 
 board, if but one poor slave could say ' he broke my chain. ' 
 I fear the angels shut him out of their everlasting habita- 
 tions. But the folks left behind, feel better and bigger, 
 and it seems to me they do the best they can to prove, in 
 the face of Almighty God, that he died happy. Great 
 Master Dr. Woodville come ; they say he is cruel as 
 the evil one ; but he is a big talk man ; speaks very grand. 
 We all were gathered to hear him pray before they carried 
 the corpse to the long home. There he prayed a great 
 many set, solemn words put together, and repeated very, 
 very slow. The mighty knows there was no more feeling 
 in them than in the poor dead body that lay in the coffin. 
 Well, after the funeral, the feast came on ; and while they 
 were eating, I be-thought me of poor Master Arthur ; and 
 then I remembered I had not seen Gibby all day. I did not 
 think so much about Marian, for I knew she was ordered 
 to keep her room. I went up to Master Arthur's room and 
 knocked. He came. ' Where is Gibby, ' said he ; ' I have 
 not seen him to-day. I thought perhaps Uncle had employ- 
 ed him. Jim, the cook's boy, brought me my breakfast, but 
 he could tell me nothing of Gib. Where is the boy ? ' 
 'Perhaps,' said I, ' he is in Master Livingston's room the 
 house is so full, I will go see ! but first, 1 must bring you 
 some supper. I always had a feeling for Master Arthur. ' 
 " Not to interrupt thy story, Sybil, ' said I, 'what caus- 
 ed this feeling f "
 
 95 
 
 " I suppose," said she, " because I loved his poor mo- 
 ther. She, very different from Madam Livingston, was 
 kind to me, kind to every body ; and I think, before she 
 died, she gained an entrance." 
 
 " But go on, Sybil, with thy story," said I. 
 
 " I went to the house-keeper," said she, " got a waiter 
 full of the best, and a cup of coffee, and took it up to 
 Massa Arthur's room, praying, all the way, that he might 
 not think of Gibby. So I gives him his coffee and he says 
 nothing, because he was very hungry, and never very 
 suspectful. I went down, glad enough : but just at the 
 foot of the stairs, I met Master Livingston, and heard him 
 give orders that every servant must be in at evening pray- 
 ers, to hear Dr. Woodville pray. Then I knew all would 
 be out, and I said to myself, and I will be out of the way ; 
 so 1 came off home. But Pete was in here, friend Jonas, 
 just before you came, and told me there was a great alarm 
 at the big house, and he says they are to have a great 
 hunt, and they mean to get out a warrant for Jasmyn. 
 Oh, friend Jonas," concluded Sybil, " this world got to be 
 just like totheF bad world." 
 
 The good Jonas told us this story, we knew, in Sybil's 
 words, to divert our minds from anxious thought.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Wherein the chattel still speaks For himself. 
 
 The sun was going down ; his parting rays shot clown 
 into the cavern, where a scene was now about to take 
 place, which the hoary walls of that rude abode had never 
 witnessed. Jasmyn and Marian were about to pledge 
 those sacred vows, solemn at all times, but doubly so in 
 our present situation. For other brides, a happy home, at 
 such a season, assumes an appearance of joy and festal 
 mirth, unknown to other occasions. The brightest smiles, 
 the tenderest caresses, the choicest gifts are showered up- 
 on the bride ; but my sister had no home to brighten at 
 her marriage ! for her, no tokens of friendship ! no conse- 
 crated altar ! no crowds of gay friends ! yet was Marian's 
 no vulgar bridal, as she stood up with her betrothed, and 
 the rays of the setting sun seemed to gather around them, 
 while 'on perils brink' they pledged their vows. Their love 
 stood out as it were, in more full relief from the gloom 
 around them. There were tears in the eyes of the Fugitive 
 bride ; such tears as angels might stoop to wipe away. As 
 they stood in that glimmering light mingled with the dark 
 shadows of the cave, the whole groupe would have made 
 a fine subject for the painter. The rude, natural temple, 
 well suited to such a bridal, the ancient hermit, Paul, with 
 his long white locks, seated on the broad stone in the deep 
 shade of the cave, like the realization of some old time,
 
 97 
 
 myth, with the shadows of the future on his brow, and his 
 seer-like eyes, now gazing on the young pair, now seeming 
 to look further on than the present. The youthful pair ; 
 the past, present and future struggling within them ; yet, 
 over all, the present fulfilment of their dearest hopes for 
 the time triumphant ; the grand, composed Jonas, his 
 countenance ever full of a peace that the world cannot give 
 nor take away ; these would have formed a grouping 
 worthy the highest art. The ceremony was finished, by 
 the request of Jonas, with a silent sitting. I seated myself 
 near the mouth of the cave ; Marian and her husband sat 
 with linked hands in deep prayer ; a sweet calmness from 
 above came over us ; but suddenly I started to my feet, 
 for I heard a distant sound like the bay of a blood-hound. 
 I announced it to my friends. 
 
 " Merciful God ! " exclaimed Marian, rising from the 
 side of her husband, 
 
 " Fear not, " said Jonas, " Gilbert may be mistaken. " 
 " Hark ! " said I, " the same cry, but nearer. " 
 " Let us fly while we can," said Jasmyn, casting a look 
 upon his wife that told for whom alone he feared. " 
 
 " If they are really coming, " said Jonas, " it is too late 
 to fly ; in this place we should be easily taken ; our only 
 chance is to stay where we are. This cave is not easily- 
 discovered ; but I hope it is not so ; certainly this is not the 
 course they would be likely to take. " 
 
 We rolled a large stone to the mouth of the cave. Mar- 
 ian shrunk trembling behind her husband, fearfully listen- 
 ing. What a bride ! the vows of love had been breathed 
 from those pale lips but a few moments before ; a few 
 
 brief, sweet moments wrested from a cruel fate. Too soon 
 9
 
 98 
 
 all knew I was not mistaken. Jonas, Jasmyn and myself, 
 ranged ourselves before the mouth of the cave. And now 
 old Paul arose, throwing his arms in the air ; " I feared 
 this, " exclaimed he ; "I felt the shadow fall cold upon 
 me ! I heard the howl of the hounds ! " He ceased, for 
 on rushed the dreadful sound ; we could hear the tramp of 
 horses, the mad cry of the hounds, nearer and nearer. 
 Marian had endured to her utmost, and fell. Old Paul 
 raised her in his arms, and carried her back to the farthest 
 extremity of the cave. " Leave not thy post, " said he to 
 Jasmyn, " and God help thee ! " Our desperate hope was 
 that they would not find the cave. But, oh ! the blood- 
 hound's scent was too sure. They rush up the rocky as- 
 cent, down through the opening; hounds yelling, and men 
 more fell than they ; men ! none but devils inhabiting the 
 forms of men, ever rode on a man hunt ! We defended 
 the pass as well as we could ; but in vain ; we were seiz- 
 ed and bound, and now came the worst of horrors. 
 
 " Here is the prize, " said Dr. Woodville ; for he was 
 a consistent man, who lived out his religion ; and, believ- 
 ing Slavery a divine institution, rode ahead of the hunters 
 of men. " Here is the prize," said he, advancing where 
 Marian, who had not come out of her swoon, was guarded 
 by ancient Paul. " Thou shalt not have her ! son of the 
 pit !" said Paul, " She is of God ! thou shalt not have 
 her !" 
 
 " We will see," said two or three men, coming forward. 
 The old man now rese and stood before Marian, spreading 
 his arms before the corner where she lay. They came 
 on ; the old man wrestled with wonderful energy, bat 
 they dashed him with contemptuous fury against the rag-
 
 99 
 
 ged rocks, and one of the blood-hounds fleshed his cruel 
 fangs in him as he lay, while these men bore off. their vic- 
 tim. This scene, fiendish as it was, is no worse than 
 many others on slavery's bloody records. Oh, America ! 
 the grey hairs of a premature senility of crime are upon 
 thee, but thou knowest it not. We were all bound and car- 
 ried to prison. Marian only recovered her senses to find her- 
 self and all of us fastened up in one cell for the night.
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 The narrator again goes on M ith the history. 
 
 On that fatal night of the capture of the fugitives, a 
 runaway slave who had found her way from Texas, where 
 she had been subjected to terrible cruelties, and to the 
 ruthless control of those dire tyrants, northern men turned 
 slave-holders, came wandering on that desolate, lonely 
 shore, near the cave. She was a noble specimen of the 
 Americanized African, being of the Congo race. Her 
 step was that of a queen, as she wandered in that wild 
 place, though her ragged dress fluttered in the wind. Her 
 form was replete with natural strength and dignity. An 
 ample chest, a broad, full forehead, large, clear, black 
 eyes, as bright as diamonds, and teeth that glittered like 
 pearls. Pete, who had dogged the hunters, even to the 
 mouth of the cave, and had skulked round till all were gone, 
 saw her from the top of a hill, and superstitiously believ- 
 ing her a supernatural being, took himself off homewards. 
 Pete was a lawless sort of a being, like the clowns who 
 amused the idle great ones of olden days. He was of 
 small service, except to cause merriment, and little heed 
 was taken whether he absconded or staid at home. But 
 to return to our run-away- She was very hungry, and was 
 searching about for some roots and berries, to allay her 
 keen appetite, when low, faint moans reached her ear. 
 She had a warm, kind heart, and as is the case with gen-
 
 101 
 
 erous natures, her own woes had increased, instead of 
 blunting, her sensibilities. She stopped at once to listen, 
 and taking up her bundle, she followed the sound. She 
 clambered up the rocky eminence, leaving remnants of 
 her wretched dress, in the way. At length she reached 
 the cave, no longer screened from observation ; for the 
 vine and tree had been all wrenched away by the late ruth- 
 less intruders. She soon found the opening, and pushed 
 along through the narrow entrance. Having entered, she 
 could see, by the pale rays of the moon, shining through 
 the clefts of the cavern, a strange old man, with a long, 
 white beard, lying on a bed of dried leaves. His venera- 
 ble beard and grey locks, were stained with blood. His 
 dress was torn, and wet with the life-current ; the feeble 
 moans that had drawn her to the spot, came piteously from 
 his failing voice. With a heart full of sympathy, she drew 
 near the old man, and said kindly, " Master, what can I 
 do for you ? " 
 
 " Who art thou ?" said Paul ; " God has sent thee. 
 They took her away, and dashed me against the rock, and 
 let their blood-hound tear me. Look here, my daughter, 
 look, see the cruel wound." He opened his vest and dis- 
 played the place where the hound had torn his flesh. He 
 then told his new visitant where to find some herbs ; of 
 which, she made a wash, cleansed his wounds, and then 
 carefully bound them up. The grateful old man then 
 said again, " Thou art sent of God ! tell me thy name." 
 
 " My name is Cornelia ; I came from a great way off; 
 I do not want to tell any more than this." 
 
 " If thou feelest safe here, wilt thou stay with me a 
 little while," said the old man ; " I have plenty of food for 
 9*
 
 102 
 
 thee and for me. The man-hunters have left me for dead, 
 and they will not come here again soon." 
 
 " Yes," said Cornelia, " I will stay with you ; " then ad- 
 ded, " I would not tell you till your wound was dressed, 
 but I am almost starved, good father. I am nearly fam- 
 ished." 
 
 " Go," said the thankful Paul, " go, take all thou desi- 
 rest from what provision I have." 
 
 Cornelia gladly kindled a fire in a rude fire-place the 
 hermit had constructed, and prepared herself a repast ; not 
 forgetting, before she would consent to eat herself, to feed 
 the helpless old hermit. This done, perceiving the old 
 man had fallen asleep, she stretched her weary form on 
 the bed of leaves, where Marian had slept the preceding 
 night, and was soon in a sweet and profound slumber. 
 The sun had arisen when Cornelia awoke in this peaceful 
 abode. It was, in her eyes, a refuge and a home, wild as 
 it was, for she had been traveling for months, without a 
 guide or compass. She arose, and finding the old man 
 awake, her first care was to wash and dress his wounds. 
 Oh ! there is nothing on earth so angelic, as a kind wo- 
 man softly ministering about the bed of suffering. She 
 constantly attended him, but with all her care and skill 
 for God had sent his servant a skilful nurse his fever in- 
 creased. One day, when his fever was off", he said to her 
 " Cornelia, dost thou know the Saviour ? " 
 
 " Till two years ago I knew no Jesus ; then an Indian 
 missionary came where I lived, and I heard him speak the 
 great gospel. First my heart get angry and bad to hear it ; 
 then it strive to get away from it, like a poor bird that beats 
 against a cage ; then when I found I could not get away
 
 103 
 
 from the great God, I cry for mercy till Jesus make me alt 
 free." 
 
 The old man, upon this, discoursed a little with Cornelia T 
 opening to her the faith. He then said, " my good girl, I 
 cannot live long, though thy cares have lessened my suf- 
 ferings. Lift up yonder curtain, and thou wilt find a lock- 
 ed box. Here is the key of it," said he, loosening a little 
 key from a ribband about his neck. ;t Open the box and 
 bring me the manuscript that lies" on the top." Cornelia 
 obeyed him. " There," said he, taking the manuscript in 
 his hand, " are traces and traits of my past history. Thou 
 must keep this, till thou seest Jonas Freeman, a light of 
 God with whom thy destiny shall yet link thee in Christian 
 fellowship. Thou wilt also find, in that box, a picture, 
 and a few jewels ; the jewels are thine ; they will pur- 
 chase thy freedom ; use them for that. Give the picture 
 to Aimee Freeman, after I am dead, whom I have known 
 from a child. How often then has she laid her head, rich 
 with golden locks, on my lap, while I told her stories of 
 other lands. Would I could see her before I die, who was 
 unto me as a daughter. But now, let me look upon that 
 picture once more before I die." 
 
 Cornelia replaced the manuscript in the box, and taking 
 out the case which contained the miniature, gave it to Paul. 
 He looked at it, and the tears flowed down his face ; but 
 he spoke not, only motioned to Cornelia to look at it also, 
 " Is it not an angel ? " innocently asked Cornelia, for a 
 soft, rosy cloud veiled the figure, and you only saw the 
 face one of those faces which have more of Heaven than 
 earth. 
 
 " She is an angel now," said the old man. " She is my
 
 104 
 
 guardian angel, and we shall soon meet in Heaven. There,- 
 you may put it back now, my hour is at hand." To- 
 wards evening, the old man grew worse, and Cornelia was 
 so intent upon attending upon him, that she did not per- 
 ceive that somebody had entered the cave, till she looked 
 up and saw a yonng female whom she immediately con- 
 cluded was the daughter of Jonas, of whom the hermit had 
 spoken. Aimee, for it was she, was surprised, but glad 
 to find Paul not alone. " I do not know thee," said she to 
 Cornelia, " but I am glad to see thee engaged in this kind 
 office." 
 
 " Aimee Freeman, my child, art thou come ? " said Paul, 
 as she came to his bedside. 
 
 " Yes, Friend Paul, and I thought I should find thcc 
 alone in thy misery ; but I sec God has sent thee a kind 
 nurse, and if thou feclest at liberty," said she, turning to 
 Cornelia, " I should like to know what has led thee here, 
 and who thou art that has been sent to the aid of our friend 
 in his extremity." Cornelia related as much of her story 
 as she had told to Paul, and Aimee was deeply interested. 
 
 " Tell me," said Paul, " oh ! tell me what has become 
 of thy own dear father and those dear children of the En- 
 slaved Nation." 
 
 Aimee began to weep, and it was some time ere she 
 could command herself enough to tell what had become of 
 the fugitives and their friend. 
 
 " 1 was sitting at home," said she, " expecting my fath- 
 er's return, but not without some presentiment of evil at 
 hand. Dorcas said to me, ' what ailcth thee, Aimee, thou 
 art not easy in thy mind ? ' But we prepared his supper, 
 and 1 took down a book to read to him and watched for
 
 105 
 
 him from the window. It grew late, but no father came. 
 Then came a rap at the door ; I went it was a stranger. 
 I knew before lie spoke, he was the bearer of evil tidings. 
 1 Is this the house of Jonas Freeman ? * Yes. ' Are you 
 his daughter? ' Yes. 'Your father is in jail,' said the 
 man, ' and wishes you to come to him.' Tell him I will, 
 said I. I tried to speak firmly, though I felt ready to sink. 
 I went in and told Dorcas, who was- greatly moved. God 
 is with us, dear Dorcas, said I, let us trust in the Lord. 
 Then we had the wagon made ready, and filled it with 
 what we thought he would need, and went to the prison. 
 The crowd the occasion had brought together, had not dis- 
 persed, but I feared them not. 1 went to the cell where 
 the prisoners were. My dear father met and embraced 
 me. ' Be of good cheer, my Aimee,' said he, ' but pray 
 that thy father may witness to a good confession of Christ 
 in the person of the poor slave, in this new martyr age.' 
 My poor father told me he had not sent for me so soon, on 
 his own, but on thy account, Paul, and he told me that he 
 saw thee dashed up against the rough side of the cave-, 
 and that a blood-hound mangled thee. And thus thou wast 
 left ; and he charged rne to take thee to our house, and 
 nurse thee well." 
 
 " The Eternal ever shine upon thee and him ; but 
 know that my race is run ; I must not be removed. I 
 have ever prayed for a crown of martyrdom, and lo ! it is 
 mine ; for Jesus counts all that is done to his poor weak 
 brethren, as done to him. But tell me, how is the poor 
 girl I vainly tried to save ?" 
 
 " She never came out of her swoon," said Aimee, 
 *' till some time after she was in the prison ; and she then
 
 106 
 
 related strange and wonderful things, how an angel had 
 taken her, and led her to the top of a lovely green hill, 
 and he bade her look down from whence she was taken 
 captive ; and she looked, and behold ! thy spirit ascended 
 from out this cave, attended by one whom thou didst seem 
 to joy to meet, and ye swiftly ascended through the open- 
 ing heaven, chaunting praise to the Redeemer. She said, 
 as the angel left, there was sweet music in her ears, utter- 
 ing these words, ' Twice, Thrice through the Furnace 
 past, happy and free and saved at last.' She appeared," 
 said Aimee, " to be much sustained, and I doubt not was 
 happier than her oppressors. But now, Paul, if thou wilt 
 not be removed, let me make thee as comfortable as I can 
 here. 1 brought a light mattress in the wagon, to move 
 thee on, and a boy came with me to help me. Allow us 
 to place thee upon it." With these words, she went out, 
 and bringing in the mattress and pillow, she and Cornelia, 
 with the assistance of the boy, placed him upon it. 
 
 " Ye are kind," said the old man, " but my pulse wax- 
 es low, and my sight grows dim." 
 
 " I shall stay with thee to-night," said Aimee. The old 
 man thanked them, and then asked Cornelia to bring him 
 the manuscript and picture. " Here," said he, to Aimee, 
 are some sketches of the past ; give them to thy father. 
 The picture, thou must keep for my sake. Thou hast 
 kissed it when a child, and wondered at the beauty of the 
 face. Ah ! Aimee, those eyes, as fair as thine, have wept 
 with a sorrow unto death. That heart, holy as thine own, 
 was broken by grief. Then let not thy trust be to escape 
 sorrow, but lean on the Lord, who sanclifieth affliction. 
 The jewels are Cornelia's, to purchase her freedom ; for
 
 107 
 
 the days are at hand, when this broad land, so proudly 
 consecrated to freedom, shall become the hunting range 
 of tyrants. Bury me on the shores of the river, children ! 
 A sweet communion is opening in my soul, and I wish to 
 be alone with God ! withdraw a little, but do not go very far 
 from me, ye blessed guardians." 
 
 The two females retired a little, and silently watched 
 the dying man. Suddenly his dying voice broke forth in 
 a strain of music, such as they had never heard before, 
 and singing, his breath passed away. 
 
 Aimee and Cornelia stood for some time in silence, look- 
 ing upon the face of the newly dead. Years of holy re- 
 tirement, of high and spiritual communion had left upon 
 him a look that might have belonged to some ancient 
 prophet. They then prayed together, and afterwards de- 
 cently attired their departed friend. They found that 
 mortification had already taken place in the wound, and 
 this, as well as their own state, caused them to decide on 
 an immediate interment. Cornelia herself went out and 
 dug the grave of her benefactor. About midnight the 
 hour Paul had chosen the two friends buried the depart- 
 ed. The voice of the mournful waves and the sighing 
 winds, were his dirge ; the high, solemn stars were the 
 funereal lights ; and the two sole mourners, who spoke not, 
 but silently mingled their tears over his body, were worthy 
 to weep at the grave of a martyr. When all was over, 
 Aimee said to Cornelia, " my horse and wagon are with- 
 out in the wood ; the boy, I sent back ; now is the time for 
 thee to ride home with me unobserved. 1 ' Cornelia lifted 
 the box containing the hermit's treasures, into the wagon,
 
 108 
 
 and they drove off rapidly towards what was so lately the 
 happy home of Jonas Freeman. On their arrival, Aimee 
 secreted Cornelia, and retired to rest.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 The narrator continues the story. 
 
 The morning, the clear, beautiful, animating morning 
 appeared. When there is deep sorrow at heart, the un- 
 conscious gladness of nature sometimes oppresses us. 
 Aimee felt something of this as she rose, as usual, with the 
 sun, and from her window locked out on that glow which 
 had once ushered in for her such days of innocent happi- 
 ness ; but she sought renovation for her soul In prayer, 
 and for her person in unsparing ablutions of water. 
 " Poor father, " sighed she, " I must take him his bathing 
 vessel ; he will not live without water. " After taking 
 Cornelia her breakfast, she rode over to the prison. The 
 usual calm current of Aimee's life had been broken up, 
 but she knew where her strength lay, and this caused her 
 self-possession and reliability. On entering her father's 
 cell sh e found him alone. Jasmyn had been removed to 
 another apartment. Gilbert and Marian, Jonas told her, 
 
 had been taken away to be sold, he knew not to whom. 
 In the course of the day, Aimee read to her father a part 
 of Paul's manuscript, which was as follows : 
 
 " Ah ! what avails it that thou art kind and devoted, my 
 
 mother, since thou art weded to a tyrant to whom thou dost 
 entirely yield thy will, and makest not only thyself but me, 
 thy fatherless one, a slave of despotic power ; a slave to 
 him who would force upon me against my will the priest- 
 ly office ? 
 
 10
 
 110 
 
 How came the tyrant to have such a daughter ? Was 
 that wife who preceded my unhappy mother, like her, the 
 victim of one who was unworthy of her love ? Agnes, why 
 did they suffer me to grow up with thee to inhale all the 
 opening fragrance of thy soul from the bud to the blos- 
 soming ; and then give the iron mandate that I should be 
 a priest and thou a nun ? well, I know that this is done to 
 benefit his son, my own half brother ; but arrogant, proud, 
 
 selfish, like his father. 
 
 * # # * * * * 
 
 They have removed her ! I have nothing of her but this 
 picture ! I look upon it ! there are the eyes that have 
 wept when I wept, and smiled when I smiled ; there are 
 the lips that spoke to me in the music of affection. And I 
 shall see her no more ! and they will make a nun of her. 
 Yes, a nun of her ! ! 
 
 ******* 
 Here I am in this monastery. I have always been a 
 thoughtful one. I have sought, beyond the ceremonies of 
 the church, the beloved of my soul, the Redeemer. And, 
 though my search was lonely and unaided, I have found 
 him, who has satisfied the innate yearnings of my soul for 
 a Saviour. And, since the anointing has fallen on me, I 
 can see how many around me know him not. They rest 
 in the shadow and seek not the substance. The sponta- 
 neous Teachings of a soul after the Saviour are deadened by 
 
 the lifeless observances in which they satisfy themselves. 
 ******* 
 
 Agnes escaped ? is it possible ! and, with Bertha, too, 
 her faithful nurse. She is more heroic than I am ; while
 
 Ill 
 
 man considers, woman acts. These words are hers ; yes. 
 
 hei's : ' Meet me to-night. * 
 
 # ****** 
 
 It is all over ; the walls of a prison surround me ; how 
 hideous ! how heart shuddering ! Did God ever design 
 that man should ever build these living graves for his 
 
 brother ? 
 
 ******* 
 
 I am accused of heresy, and of attempting to abduct a 
 novice. Is truth heresy ? they asked me if I could not see 
 the substance through the sign ? I said, what need of the 
 sign when I have already the substance ? Poor Agnes ! 
 the keeper tells me she is ill, too ill to be yet returned to 
 
 the convent. 
 
 ******* 
 
 She is dead ! Agnes is dead ! My mother has been to 
 see me. She came in, pale and trembling ; I fell on her 
 bosom and wept to find myself there in nature's home. 
 But oh ! she held out to me a lock of hair, of long dark 
 hair, and said: Do you know whose hair this is ? She is 
 no more. She sent this last token. I could not speak. 1 
 sat down on my cold prison floor and wept as those weep 
 whose heart is breaking. My mother took a stool and sat 
 down near me. She laid my head on her lap. I felt her 
 tears fall on my hot temples. It roused me from my sel- 
 fish grief. I strove to console her: Now she has gone ; 
 
 all are gone but God, who never forsakes me. 
 
 ******* 
 
 Father Joseph has been here. Through the influence 
 of my father-in-law my punishment is commuted to exile. 
 I shall go to America ; 1 will live there a hermit, commun- 
 ing with the holy ones,
 
 112 
 
 Another visit from my mother. Ever kind, she tells me her 
 husband has consented she should purchase for me a small 
 life annuity, payable to whoever I may name in America. 
 She brought me, also, a box of jewels, of some value, be- 
 longing to Agnes, left to me. My mother was pale and sick. 
 ' Dear mother, ' said I, ' thou canst not endure much more. 1 
 ' Not much more,' said she, ' parting with my dear son 
 
 will kill me !' 
 
 ******* 
 
 Heavenly Father ! thou hast taken her ; she died last 
 night. The strain was too much upon her poor weak 
 heart. A blood vessel burst. Yet I have a sense of relief 
 amidst my sorrows. I shall not leave her in the hands of 
 her tormentor. I have none to leave behind. Are not 
 
 Agnes and my mother in heaven ? 
 
 ******* 
 
 I am on ship-board. I have found here an American. 
 His name is David Freeman. He is of the sect called 
 
 Quakers, or Friends. There is unction in his words. 
 
 ******* 
 
 David Freeman is my friend ; my soul's brother. He 
 advises me not to be a hermit ; but I have passed away 
 from the world. Whatever is false or idolatrous in the 
 faith of my fathers, I resign ; but never the belief of the 
 Church in miracles, in the communion of holy men with 
 an innumerable company of angels, and in the call of 
 
 some to a life of retired devotion* 
 
 ******* 
 
 From the cave after a long interval. Ten years have 
 passed in this solitude. I live in God. This cave is a
 
 113 
 
 holy place of continual worship in the silence of love. 
 David Freeman is no more on earth. But he has left be- 
 hind him an inheritor of his virtues." 
 Here Aimee ceased to read. 
 
 10*
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 In which Gilbert speaketh for himself 
 
 When Marian and myself were released from prison, 
 we were immediately taken back to Livingston Lawn. 
 Master Arthur sent for me to come to his room as soon as 
 I arrived, and told me he had purchased me as his body- 
 servant, and that he should leave that day for New Orleans, 
 I had expected correction, and was glad of a reprieve. I 
 liked my new master far better than my old one ; yet I 
 still trembled for my sister. Do you know, sir, said I, what 
 will become of my sister ? 
 
 " She is to be sold to a soul-driver, for the New Orleans 
 market. He will take her next week ; it is barbarous, but 
 I cannot help it." 
 
 Oh ! good Mr. St. Vallery ! said I, do have pity upon 
 me, and ask if I cannot see my dear sister, if it is only for 
 a moment. 
 
 " As she is now in the charge of Mrs. Sedley, Aunt 
 Livingston's sister, perhaps I may prevail upon her to con- 
 sent to it ; but uncle 1 cannot ask." 
 
 He left the room, and soon returned with Mrs. Sedley's 
 permission for me to see Marian, in the presence of my 
 master. I thanked God for this answer to my prayer. 
 We went to the room where she was confined. There she 
 sat, with the fetters still on her wrists, and the chains on 
 her ancles. At sight of me, tears gushed into her eyes,
 
 115 
 
 and she sobbed aloud as I kissed her. Mr. St. Vallery 
 looked on with seeming coolness, as if he paid no regard 
 to us ; but I saw him cast a glance of pity and concern on 
 Marian. Dear sister, said I, clasping her poor, fettered, 
 trembling form, to my swelling heart, I must leave here 
 this afternoon ; we may never meet again, but we have 
 both got religion. 
 
 " Yes, dear Gibby," said she, " I feel that this is all that 
 keeps me up. Oh Jesus ! bless my brother, my own dear 
 Gibby, and bless his master, and give him the sweet grace 
 of God also." Mr. St. Vallery spoke very quick then, as 
 if afraid to trust himself. " You must go, now, Gilbert ; 
 you will make a fool of me too, if I stay here any longer. 
 Good bye, Marian. If there is a God above, he will take 
 care of you ; 'tis a savage thing keeping you chained 
 thus, and if they don't take them off, I will raise a storm 
 about their ears." 
 
 We then left ; my heart sunk as the key turned. Ar- 
 thur went directly to Mrs. Sedley. I stood at the door, 
 waiting. He gave her the key, and said to her, " If you 
 want Marian to sell for a copper, you must off with her 
 fetters and chains. She will not look like any thing, if 
 you do not, for she will mourn herself sick. She is none 
 of these common, rude wenches, but has as nice a feeling 
 of honor as you have, madam ; and if you dinna ken- 
 where she took it from, I do. If that cursed soul-driver 
 uses her well, she may reach New Orleans alive ; if not, 
 she will die on his hands. Mrs. Sedley told him she would 
 have the fetters removed, but sarcastically remarked, she 
 was glad to discern in him so much disinterested benevo- 
 lence. He bowed his thanks for the compliment, and left
 
 116 
 
 the room. As I was hurrying to and fro, making our 
 preparations to leave, I met Sybil coming into the house. 
 Poor Sybil looked many years older than when I last saw 
 her. She took my hand, and, for some minutes, could not 
 speak. " At last," said she, " I have come up here to try 
 if I can see old Master, and have any thing done for my 
 poor Jasmyn. To think how hard I worked to get him 
 free. Many a day I went hungry, and kept thinking I 
 should have my dear grand-child free, to comfort my old 
 age, bye-and-bye. And when the blessed time came, how 
 thankful I was. But now he is worse off than ever, and 
 good Friend Jonas, too. Then they butchered the good 
 hermit, the greatest saint that ever lived ; aye, and could 
 see what all men's eyes do not see. I have been to the 
 jail this morning ; there was my poor Jasmyn, in irons ! 
 How can the just, merciful Saviour bear so long to see his 
 children, ' bone of his bone, flesh of his flesh,' so cruelly 
 handled ? but his ways will not be found out to-day nor 
 to-morrow," 
 
 How does Jasmyn seem ? said I. 
 
 " He looks real sick ; but he says, ' don't grieve, grand- 
 mother, we are happier in our souls than they can be. I 
 had rather be a slave than a tyrant.' But the poor boy 
 feels it, for all. Gibby, child, you don't think how lone- 
 some my old hut looks. It seems a great cold shadow of 
 death, there. No more good prayer-meetings in old Syb- 
 il's hut. No more sweet singers of Israel, there to praise 
 the poor slave's Saviour. Then I forget sometimes, and 
 hearken to hear Jasmyn's step ; then the bitter, bitter sor- 
 row, runs afresh into my heart, reminding me where he is. 
 I used to feel well and thankful, when I waked in the morn-
 
 117 
 
 ing ; but now the grief comes back fresh when I first wake, 
 and my darling is right before me, loaded with irons. I 
 am afraid they will keep him there, and then sell him for 
 his jail fees. Oh ! how I used to count that money over 
 days, and see the little heap grow bigger, and think, well, 
 bless God ! Now the very sight of the box, where I kept 
 it, makes me sick. Poor Scipio looks as if he knew it all, 
 and whines about the house. But here I stand talking, 
 and what good does that do. Don't think I do not feel for 
 you and Marian, I do, I do ; my heart aches all the time 
 for you.'* 
 
 Good bye, Sybil, said I ; I never expect to see you 
 again. The poor old soul wept as she turned away to 
 seek out Mr. Livingston. That evening we left for New 
 Orleans. After my arrival in the city, I found my soul in 
 much more danger than my body. My new master was 
 kind to me. He was very thoughtless, to be sure, how 
 things went on, on his plantations, so that he had the free 
 handling of the money. Having so recently and unex- 
 pectedly become his own master, and flush, both of youth 
 and money, he soon became entirely devoted to pleasure, 
 and seemed to grow wilder every day. His favorite com- 
 panion was his old correspondent and former fellow-colle- 
 gian, a young Texan, who, having been left heir to a 
 handsome estate, had half run through with it, and was a 
 desperate gambler. He was witty, and good-natured, but 
 a poor companion for my master. Meantime my mind 
 had but one desire, one purpose Liberty for myself and 
 my sister. I watched the slave auctions, and vessels, ex- 
 pecting to see Marian ; but I was disappointed. I feared 
 she might have arrived some time when I could not bo
 
 118 
 
 there. Things went on thus. At length, one day my 
 master came in ; he seemed unusually full of something 
 or other, and particularly gracious to me. But that even 
 ing, he came in with intelligence that fell like a death 
 blow, upon me. 
 
 " Gilbert, " said he, " I am sorry to part with you, but 
 it has become necessary for me to do so, and I have sold 
 you to my friend, Louis Verney, and I have no doubt he 
 will use you well, for, though a dissipated, high fellow, he 
 has a very good heart." 
 
 I thought, at the time, he had gambled me away, but 
 afterwards found out the true reason. I was sorry to lose 
 my kind master, especially as I knew I should not long 
 remain with my new owner, but that he would soon gam- 
 ble me away, perhaps into worse hands ; but my stay with 
 him was even shorter than I had expected ; for just one 
 week after, he gambled me away, as I stood behind his 
 chair, to another young blood. This young fellow, having 
 another body servant, did not want me ; but the next morn- 
 ing an uncle of his., a clergyman, calling on him at his ho- 
 tel, he sold me to him. I love a minister of Christ with 
 my whole heart, but such a burly clergyman as this, I 
 never saw. Dr. Woodville, though wicked, was courtly ; 
 but this man looked more fit for a corsair than a minister. 
 He had been to the Mexican war ; called it a holy war, and 
 prided himself on the number of poor Mexicans, who, as 
 he said, had tasted his powder. He had that heartless 
 facetiousness which is found in very cruel men, yet passes 
 with many for good humor. His face was tinged with that 
 terrestrial ' rosy red, ' which marked his daily familiarity 
 with the best and most racy champagne. He was also a
 
 119 
 
 great smoker. He was a very wilful person ; and, 1 am 
 told in the assembly of"his clerical brethren, if he could 
 not have his own way, he would roar like a lion. This 
 irascible divine, now became, by the law of man, not of 
 God, the owner of the soul, body and spirit of a disciple of 
 him of whom he professed to be a ministering sen-ant.
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 In which Gilbert continues his narrative. 
 
 Although Marian was freed from her fetters, she was 
 kept closely confined until the time of her departure. She- 
 was sold by her own father, at a very high price, to the 
 soul-driver one Nathan Sharpe, a wretch who loved the 
 wages of iniquity, and drove his cruel trade as much for 
 the pleasure he took in it as for the gain it brought him. Af- 
 ter all Mrs. Sedley could say, he used Marian as he did all 
 the rest, with as much tantalizing tyranny as was consis- 
 tent with his own interest. Nathan arrived safely in New 
 Orleans, with his human cargo. This diabolical domestic 
 slave trade is more refinedly cruel than the foreign slave 
 trade, inasmuch as many of the victims of the traffic, 
 living in the more northerly slave states, have, at least, 
 seen what civilization is, and what Christianity is, and 
 therefore feel more sensibly, this cruel degradation than 
 the poor heathen of Africa. Religion makes them more 
 alive to the horrors of their doom. Marian had a great 
 dread of being exposed on the slave block ; but this was 
 prevented by a private purchaser, who offered Nathan a 
 tempting price on condition that he should have her at pri- 
 vate sale. This was no other than Mr. Arthur St. Vallery, 
 who had been watching closely, ever since his arrival, for 
 this vessel. It was on the day that he bought Marian, that 
 he sold me, for fear that I should discover her, if retained
 
 121 
 
 in his service. As soon as he had purchased Marian, he 
 had her fetters instantly struck off. He then drove to a 
 hotel with her, and, having selected a room, bade her 
 await there his return. Presently after he left, a servant 
 came in with refreshments, of which, as Marian was very 
 hungry, she eagerly partook, though her heart was heavy 
 and her fears great. Soon, her new master appeared with 
 a boy bearing a large bundle and band-box. " Here, 1 
 said he to Marian, handing her the band-box and bundle, 
 " change your dress for these, and be ready when I return." 
 She opened the bundle and box, and found an elegant suit 
 of clothing, and a rich bonnet and shawl. She arrayed 
 herself according to his orders. Though her new dress 
 set off her beauty, she only wept when she saw herself re- 
 flected in the large mirror before her. Her master return- 
 ed in a very short time, and handed her into a splendid 
 carriage with an air he had never before assumed. They 
 drove off to a certain part of the city, where many ladies 
 of the mingled race live in great luxury. They stopped at 
 the door of a fine house. A servant came, who received 
 them with the utmost respect. Mr. St. Vallery then show- 
 ed her all about the establishment ; it was as luxurious and 
 magnificent as taste and wealth could make it. Entering 
 a beautiful room that looked out on a garden, with roses 
 clustering about the windows, he asked her to sit down, 
 and seated himself beside her. " Now, lovely Marian," 
 said he, " this beautiful home is yours, alv/ays, if you 
 will only give up your religious scruples, and requite, with 
 your love, one who would win you by generosity and de- 
 votion. I never saw a white lady that had any heart ; 
 
 they fritter it all away by false education. Your greatest 
 11
 
 122 
 
 charm for me, is the sensibility I have vainly sought far 
 among my own race. Kind fortune seemed determined to 
 throw you into my power. Think, from what a doom I have 
 rescued you, and try to love me. But I must tell you the 
 truth : I do not mean to part with you again. All the servants 
 here are select old slaves of my father's, devoted, from 
 their infancy, to me. To the care of two of the most 
 trusty of them, I have particularly given you, though they 
 will treat you as their mistress, with all deference ; nor 
 will you be able to discover who they are. Do not think 
 me unkind ; I am only resolved not to lose you. Masters 
 will be here every day to give you lessons ; for I mean to 
 have you accomplished, charming Marian. Especially 
 your rich musical talent must be cultivated. Nor do I 
 mean you shall be dull here. I shall take you to public 
 places, and give you pleasant drives." Marian thought, 
 all the while Arthur was talking, of the scene of our Sa- 
 viour's temptations. " All this will I give thee," &c. Ah, 
 
 thought she, now indeed am I passing through the furnace. 
 
 ******* 
 
 I return now to my own personal history. My new 
 Master took me to his new plantation on the river. He 
 was the most domineering tyrant I ever knew, but oh ! 
 strange to tell, he could preach grandly. He had read a 
 great deal, had strong passions, and a rich imagination, 
 and his language was very fluent, especially when he had 
 recently refreshed himself with wine. He was extremely 
 popular, and made his hearers pay him handsomely, for 
 he loved gain, because it added to his pleasures. His table 
 was spread with every luxury. He had married, for her 
 wealth, a woman whom he had made only less submissive
 
 123 
 
 than his slaves. Yet this man would preach up giving up 
 all for Christ, support of missions, and such matters, with 
 great effect I have set up in the gallery and wondered 
 to see how the people devoured his words. He would 
 sometimes expatiate about this country, as if this New 
 Ninevah were the delight of the Lord, holy, honorable. 
 The place of his feet, which he would make glorious. 
 Surely, thought I, God has given up this generation to 
 strong delusion, to believe a lie. All the time he kept us 
 smarting and toiling under the lash. Many slaves were 
 compelled to run away from his unbearable severity ; but 
 horrible was the fate of the poor wretch who was caught 
 and returned to him. He was inexorable, and seemed to 
 let loose all the strong ferocity of his nature, upon his vic- 
 tim. He kept a pack of hounds to catch run-a-ways, whom 
 he was pleased to style Taylor warriors. I had been 
 there some little time, when, one Saturday night, he sum- 
 moned us all, and ordered us, one and all to attend church, 
 Sunday, as he had something to read to us, and should 
 preach especially to MS, and if any one of us failed to be 
 there, or being there, fell asleep, we should receive one 
 hundred lashes.
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 In which Gilbert continues his narrative. 
 
 As to what was transpiring in the great world without us, 
 on this plantation we knew nothing. Here was one con- 
 tinual Reign of Terror ; but, at my former Master's, I read 
 the news-papers and knew that Congress was shaken like 
 a political Vesuvius, with Anti-slavery agitation. My fears 
 far exceeded my hopes. The omnipotence of the slave 
 power was fully appreciated by me, for, it had sat as God 
 before me, exalting itself above all that is called God, ever 
 since I had a being. Yet I longed and panted to hear 
 a more near and certain sound of the trump of the Anti- 
 Slavery Evangel. But I was now a captive indeed. Sab- 
 bath morning came. As we went to church, I observed an 
 unusual gathering about the door. There was a general 
 appearance of excitement and animation, that depressed 
 me at once. For triumph in the master's countenance is 
 always a sign of sorrow to the slave. We pay for all 
 their joys. I observed that my master, especially, was 
 perfectly elated. We entered the house, and took our seats. 
 My Master's text was " For perhaps he departed from 
 thce for a season, that thou shouldest receive him for- 
 ever." 
 
 " The day has arrived," said he, " when the triumph of 
 the gospel is complete and glorious. I have often told you 
 of its triumphs in China, in Hindostan, in the islands of
 
 125 
 
 the sea. I have now to announce to you its illustrious 
 achievements in our own beloved country. The fraternal 
 rights of the South, so long invaded, have been vindicated 
 and acknowledged. True, the Lord has removed from us 
 our national Joshua, General Taylor, and our Southern 
 prophet John C. Calhoun ; but he has wrought marvel- 
 ously in raising up for our Southern Israel, Webster, Cass 
 and Clay, like a three-fold flame of fire, enfolding us round 
 about The Fugitive Slave Law, nourished by their words 
 of life, is now at length baptized by the sanction of Milliard 
 Fillimore ; blessed be he. A northern man, yet a man 
 whose name shall be handed down to remotest ages, as 
 the man who extinguished forever, the slave's last hope of 
 liberty, and crushed out the last spark of his political exist- 
 ence, 'by taking from him the right of trial by jury, so un- 
 justly claimed for a chattel. Our run-a-way slaves, who 
 have so long found protection among northern thieves, can 
 no more insult our authority. I want you, servants, to at- 
 tend while I read and expound to you this glorious law, 
 which, if you did but know it, is as wholesome for you, as 
 advantageous to ourselves." So saying, he read the law, 
 expatiating upon, and explaining to us, all its accursed 
 provisions evincing the highest gratification all the while. 
 " This law," said he. " is a new and striking proof^ that 
 the children of Ham are to be servants forever. And now, 
 if you run away, I will tell you your fate. If you escape 
 the quick scent of our keen and faithful blood-hounds, if 
 you safely thread the morasses, scale the mountains, and 
 finally reach some northern city, there our dear northern 
 brothers, recalled by that great Apostle, Daniel Webster, 
 
 to their Christian duties, shall arise against you, and return 
 11*
 
 126 
 
 you back to be punished with the most extreme tortures 
 it may be our pleasure to inflict. Go into their cities 
 those houses, homes for them, are prisons for you, ye fly- 
 ing vagabonds. Go to the church, and the very priest at 
 the altar is pledged to restore you ; yea, the heads of the 
 sanctuary shall cry, restore him to his master. Will you 
 go to the Abolitionists ? the cowards will tell you they are 
 peace-men, and cannot protect you. The whole amount 
 of their resistance to the law, will be tame declarations 
 that they will not obey it. 
 
 I admire to see how snugly the game is arranged. The 
 peace men cry out disunion, but refuse to act politically, 
 so that their cry is but the ghost of their discontent ; the 
 political abolitionist dares not touch the Union, or away 
 goes his party. None of them have the hardihood to form 
 a disunion political party, because they know the people 
 are for the union, and as long as we have the union, our 
 institutions are safe. Between the two abolition factions, 
 we southerners are safe from any thing but noise ; never 
 mind their talk hard words break no bones. The cun- 
 ning creatures love excitement, but will never risk their 
 own vines and fig-trees. We are constantly gaining on 
 them, because they have no real earnestness in their cause 
 and we have. Will the run-a-way go to his own people ? 
 They are a despised minority, trodden under foot of men, 
 and the first drop of white men's blood they should shed, 
 would rouse against them the most maddened rage of the 
 populace. Wretched fugitive, God and man are against 
 you ! The whole military force of the nation is against 
 you. The spirit of the nation is against you. If you flee, 
 you will surely be returned to us, and as surely meet ex-
 
 127 
 
 emplary punishment. No hope now, thank God, no hope 
 now ! From the farthest southern plantation, I see the 
 hitherto rebellious slave, as he hears the law thundering its 
 inexorable fiat in his ears. I see him fold his hands in 
 despair ! he is compelled by its iron rod to keep down his 
 rebellious will, and submit to the lot a just God has assign- 
 ed him. No more, no more shall we have to endure your 
 increasing insolence ; the power of a great people holds you 
 down. It is not your masters alone, but the whole nation 
 are your keepers. I look now for great revivals and peace 
 upon Israel. "Happy is that people, yea happy is that peo- 
 ple whose God is the Lord." Nor should you repine at 
 your inevitable lot, ye children of Ham, for though Christ 
 took away the curse from all creation beside, he excepted 
 you, as your present condition shows, still bound down by 
 the curse of Noah. Submit then to be hewers of wood and 
 drawers of water to this elect nation, this modern Israel, 
 without any more struggles. And you beloved white breth- 
 ren, now having your property secured, can aid more easi- 
 ly in evangelizing the heathen and supporting your pastor, 
 so that you may have it said to you in the great day, ' In- 
 asmuch as ye have done it to one of the least of these, my 
 brethren, ye have done it unto me.' Amen." I know not 
 what my poor companions in bonds felt, while listening to 
 this sermon, but I do know it effectually roused my whole 
 manhood within me. I loathed the Anglo-Saxon blood 
 within my veins, and vowed to marry only one of pure 
 African descent. Had I not have known for myself the 
 power of a loving Saviour to forgive sin, this man would 
 have driven me away from the Christian religion, as he 
 stood forth its professed representative and expounder ;
 
 128 
 
 but thank God, I knew better things ; I knew a Saviour who 
 has chosen the poor of this world rich in faith, and heirs of 
 the kingdom. I knew who was like a brother to all man- 
 kind. I knew who had forbidden his disciples to bear rule 
 over one another, and exercise authority, like the Gentiles. 
 I knew who preached equal and universal brotherhood, if 
 he preached anything. I did not mind what the man said 
 about Ham's curse, while my soul was rich with Christ's 
 blessing. The more he preached that law of hell to drive 
 me to despair, the more my soul rose to strength, Chris- 
 tian humility is a deep submission of the soul to Christ, un- 
 der a true feeling of our unworthiness and helplessness. 
 It is not tame servility to those whom the accidents of for- 
 tune have placed above us. That servility was against 
 true humility, exacting for man that homage due only to 
 the Redeemer. True humility condescends to the lowly, 
 but never fawns upon the great. Slavery, the parent of 
 servile fear, is not adapted to bring forth true humility, be- 
 cause true humility is a child of the love that casteth out 
 fear. If slaves are ever truly humble, it is because they 
 are Christians, not because they are slaves. They are 
 usually better Christians than white men, because they are 
 more child-like and loving in their natures than the whites. 
 1 will give an instance of Christian humility, that is, of a 
 man whose will was wholly lost in God's will. A poor 
 Christian slave, whose back was never healed from stripes, 
 was divinely impressed with a duty to go to a company of 
 slave-holders,* who were taking the Lord's Supper, in a 
 grove, and say to them, ' gentlemen and ladies, you are 
 eating and drinking damnation to your own souls.' Al- 
 
 * Fact.
 
 129 
 
 though this might be death to him, so entirely was his will 
 humbled to God's will, that he performed that difficult du- 
 ty. And that was Christian humility ? 
 
 The next day my master gave an entertainment, and 
 brilliantly illuminated his villa, in honor of the passage of 
 the Fugitive Slave Law. In front, was a transparency repre- 
 senting the Gods of the new dispensation of death, Web- 
 ster, Cass and Clay. On one side of this was another 
 transparency an officer, with a slave under arrest, and a 
 clergyman, out of whose mouth came a scroll, ' peace on 
 earth, good will to men;' on the other side were two female 
 figures, embracing each other; back of the one was a cot- 
 ton field with negroes at work ; in the back ground of the 
 other were cotton bags, and factories in operation. The 
 motto was this felicitous transposition of scripture : " Righ- 
 teousness and peace have met together the North and the 
 South have kissed each other." 
 
 Our master, in order to give due honor to the occasion, 
 ordered every negro hut to be illuminated, and made us all 
 keep holiday, or holinight. It was a holy night to me, for 
 in the thickest of the fun, I made out to slip off, although 
 an extra watch was kept. But as in the days of old, 
 when a similar feast was held, through the drunkenness of 
 the guards, the gates were not well kept. I know not that 
 any of my fellow-slaves embraced the chance for escape. 
 I dared not trust any of them with my plan. I crawled 
 along on my hands and knees, where three or four drunk- 
 en ones of the patrol were around a bowl of punch. Be- 
 ing a new hand, I was not known to them. I seated my- 
 self among them, without exciting much notice. Here, 
 said I, give us something good ; I have been keeping
 
 130 
 
 guard up yonder alone. I have flogged two niggers I 
 caught outside, and 1 am confoundedly tired. Do give me 
 some punch and let me go back. Give him some, said 
 one, and let him go, it will make him strong to lick some 
 more of these d d niggers. So I pretended to take seve- 
 ral hearty swigs, and bidding tham good night, passed on 
 slowly, at first, and as soon as I was out of their sight, 
 going off at the top of my speed. I traveled all that night, 
 unmolested. In the morning, I took to the woods, scatter- 
 ing some fresh meat hither and thither, in order to mislead 
 the dogs. I chose the highest of the lofty trees, and as- 
 cended to the summit. Here I fastened myself. I can 
 tell Daniel Webster, the man who sees furthest and occu- 
 pies the most favorable position for taking a true view of 
 the slavery question, is not the statesman at his desk, but 
 the poor fugitive, at the top of a lofty tree, his ear strain- 
 ing to hear, lest the fearful blood-hound be on his track, 
 and the more fell master behind him, cruel as " the even- 
 ing wolves." I could tell him how clearly I saw from that 
 high station, that he who achieves his own liberty is more 
 justly a freeman, than he with whom liberty is hereditary. 
 I would ask him by what right they who only inherit lib- 
 erty, take it from him who has won it single-handed, ma- 
 king hounds, wolves, forests, mountains, rivers, yield to his 
 noble will, to be Free ! ! No, instead of oppressing, let 
 them learn to respect the new Heroes of a race in whom 
 their oppressions have roused the first spark of liberty's un- 
 dying flame. In the night, I turned my course to the city of 
 New Orleans. This may appear strange, but my plans had 
 been long formed. I determined not to escape without
 
 131 
 
 my dear sister ; and by this time, by putting things togeth- 
 er, I surmised where she was, and in whose power. 
 
 While I was in the service of Mr. St. Vallery, we led a 
 wild, irregular life. I often attended him to masquerade 
 balls and to masquerading frolics, and had learnt many 
 arts of disguise. This knowledge I designed now to put 
 in use ; but more of this in time. There was a certain 
 free colored man with whom I became acquainted. He 
 was wealthy, but secret about it as a Jew, under the ter- 
 ror of the Inquisition. He was a sort of universal genius, 
 in his own way ; his main business was to keep a confec- 
 tioner's and pastry cook's shop. He also prepared suppers, 
 gave balls, &c. Although he had his faults, he had one 
 good quality, he was a true friend to the slaves. He was 
 so cunning and shrewd, no one ever suspected him, and 
 he had a rare tact of discovering to whom he might trust. 
 He had the supple, thrifty humility of some Jewish ped- 
 lar. I knew that he sat up late, and after reconnoitering, 
 and finding his family had retired, I knocked at the door 
 of his shop, and he came. He looked surprised at seeing 
 me, but in a suppressed voice, bade me walk in. He 
 carefully locked the door after me. I told him at once 
 frankly, my situation, and my plans with regard to my- 
 self and my sister. Says he, Gibby, I take you to be a 
 prudent fellow, and think that you understand yourself, 
 and I will help you, but you must work while you are 
 here, and put up with a small place to work and live in. 
 
 So he took me behind the counter, and by a secret 
 spring, opened the door of a very small room, or a sort of 
 floored cellar ; the door on the outside was not discovera- 
 ble, it looked only like a part of the wainscot; here was
 
 132 
 
 only a very small window to admit light, and that curtain- 
 ed. There was a little couch here, a table and ehair. 
 There were certain crevices in the wall through which I 
 could see the customers and doings, unperceived. Here 
 then I retired, but not till after my hospitable friend had 
 given me a plentiful supper. The room was dismal enough, 
 but I had such a feeling of safety when comparing it with 
 my last night's lodging on a tree, that it seemed pleasant 
 in comparison. I knew New Orleans was the last place 
 in which my master would seek for me. I slept soundly. 
 In the morning when I awoke, I thanked God, and took 
 courage. My friend soon came in with my breakfast, and 
 told me my business. It was to write for him, as I had 
 gained some knowledge of writing and accounts at odd 
 times. He was often hurried and was glad of my help. 
 My faithful friend told me at night, that there were pla- 
 cards up all over the city, advertising me, and offering a 
 large reward, and advised me to remain quiet till the heat 
 of the pursuit was over. My protector remained unsus- 
 pected ; but one day I was much alarmed at hearing my 
 master's voice, in the shop. He purchased some confec- 
 tionery, and while my friend was putting it up, he says : 
 
 " Did you ever see that rascal, Gibby, when he was St. 
 Vallery's servant ?" 
 
 " Perhaps I may have seen him," said my friend, " but 
 not to notice him much, I see so many in the run of the 
 day. Was he a short, thick negro, and very black ? " 
 
 " No, no," says his reverence, "he is a tall, well-made 
 scoundrel, and very light." 
 
 " Oh ! I guess I have seen him ; didn't he have a scar 
 on his cheek, just below the eye, and a sort of grin, al- 
 ways ? "
 
 133 
 
 " No, no, you don't know him, but I am thinking he will 
 know when I catch him, as I expect to, shortly, thanks to 
 the blessed Fugitive Slave Law. If I could anticipate his 
 eternal doom, I would, but I will do my best to give him a 
 burning foretaste of it. I will make him a terrible warn- 
 ing to all the rest." Just then Mr. St. Vallery himself 
 came in, and after shaking hands, for they were acquaint- 
 ed, he told him that he had lost his slave, Gibby. 
 
 " Indeed," said Mr. St. Vallery, " I presume he has 
 gone to New England." 
 
 " If he has," said the parson, " the Fugitive Law will 
 help me to head him there." 
 
 " I hear," said St. Vallery, " that public sentiment in 
 New England, is decidedly against the law." 
 
 " Public sentiment," said the Reverend Doctor, " what 
 is the Anti-Slavery public sentiment of New England ? a 
 mere bubble on the surface." 
 
 " While the cold heart, to dollars runs darkly the while," 
 said St. Vallery. 
 
 " You have it," " responded the Parson, the soul of the 
 north is with us, while the trade is good, for you know, 
 and everybody knows that all the northerners care for, is 
 speculation, cheating, and a brisk trade. This talk about 
 humanity and slavery, is a sort of holiday concern with 
 them, got up to get off speeches, sell newspapers, and gar- 
 nish Thanksgiving Sermons. The politicians also make 
 use of it, to grease the wheels of their political machinery, 
 and although a handful of poor, sincere, lunatic rascals 
 are going mad about it, yet every sane person in New 
 England, lumps them up with Millerites and Mormonites ; 
 
 depend upon it, sir, the mass of the northerners are but 
 12
 
 134 
 
 too happy to be our whippers-in, if they can but carry the 
 trade. They may indulge a little, in their hereditary pu- 
 ritan cant, but the dollar is the real thing with them, after 
 all." 
 
 Thus talking, to my great relief, the two gentlemen left 
 (lie shop. The unsuspicious character of my former mas- 
 ter, Arthur St. Vallery, was greatly in my favor now, for 
 it never occurred to him, that I might be lurking about the 
 city, supposing Marian to be in New Orleans. My friend 
 soon found means, through a servant of St. Vallery's, to 
 find out where my sister was residing. He said she was 
 living in style, and rode out every day. My heart trem- 
 bled, for fear she had lost her innocence. Among the oc- 
 casional lodgers at this house, there was one who brought 
 many choice jewels and rich goods with him. We knew 
 nothing, but somewhat suspected his honesty. Every now 
 and then, he would come in drunk, bring a large jug, and 
 remain there drunk, for a day or two. I conceived a bold 
 project, by which I could make this man's failing subser- 
 vient to my design. I ccmmunicated the plan to my 
 friend, who approved the design, because he had such an 
 opinion of my sagacity, he doubted not that I could carry 
 it out safely. Pursuit had ceased in the vicinity ; the 
 placards were all down. I heard just then most opportune- 
 ly that Mr. St. Vallery was gone from the city for a few 
 days. I immediately put into play the masquerading skill 
 which I had acquired, by using a kind of wash which gave 
 to my face a reddish tinge, and putting on a wig of straight, 
 black hair, I being naturally tall and straight, transformed 
 myself into a tolerable Indian. I was very imitative, and 
 readily counterfeited thelndian manner. I also wore a
 
 135 
 
 slouched hat pretty well down over my eyes. So disguis- 
 ed I put within a large market-basket a smaller one, with 
 some fine fruit, and a note inside counterfeiting St. Val- 
 lery's hand-writing, directed to Marian, saying that a travel- 
 ing merchant would be there, that she must be ready to 
 see him alone, as he would be the bearer of a particular 
 message from him, and some rich jewelry for her to look 
 at and purchase if she pleased. Then I covered, and seal- 
 ed down the basket, directing it to the house where she 
 lived. Thus equipped, 1 went into the street, took a few 
 turns, went into a market, bought a few little matters, anil 
 put them into my large basket ; then going out, calle<! 
 upon a boy who seemed to be hanging about the purlieus 
 of the place, and said, Irere is a gentleman wants you to 
 take this small basket to Madam St. Vallery, such a street, 
 (naming the place.) 
 
 The boy went one way, I took another, and had the sat- 
 isfaction to see him deliver it at the door. 1 never before 
 or since wanted to see a man drunk, and I did not then so 
 desire it, but what I would have prevented it if possible, 
 though my scheme had failed. But in he came about the 
 middle of the forenoon, went up to his room with his pack 
 and jug, and was soon in a profound sleep. I left my hid- 
 ing place cautiously, went softly to his room, took his pack 
 and traveling coat and went to my sister's, a spruce travel- 
 ing merchant with immense whiskers, green spectacles ; in 
 short, completely disguised. Oh ! how my heart beat with 
 apprehension. But my chief fears were for my sister. 
 If her faith had failed her, if her purity had gone, life was 
 henceforth a blank to me. These fears increased when I 
 came to the fine mansion where she now lived, and when
 
 136 
 
 the servant, with respect, ushered me into the richly fur- 
 nished apartment where his mistress was. She was prac- 
 tising at her piano when I went in. She appeared entire- 
 ly unconscious who I was, but received me pleasantly. 
 But as she was looking at the jewels, I took off my specta- 
 cles, and looked up earnestly in her face. She knew me 
 at once ! the blood forsook her face ; but she rallied with 
 admirable self-control, suffering not a word to escape her 
 lips ; I felt she was true. I slipt a note into her hand and 
 a phial ; I also left her, nicely done up in paper, as if it were 
 one of the rich silks I had brought in, a masculine dress ; 
 then silently lifting up my hands to God, I took up my 
 pack and went back to my retreat, took off the pedlar's 
 pack and coat and restored it to its place, and went zeal- 
 ously about preparing for my flight. My dear sister after- 
 wards gave me this account of what took place after I left 
 her ; T give her own words. 
 
 " I had now," said she, " to pray, as only those pray 
 who are in extremity. Before, I had escaped under your 
 direction, dear Gilbert; but now, my first steps must be ta- 
 ken alone. I knew from St. Vallery, that two of the ser- 
 vants were particular spies upon me. I had observed care- 
 fully and found out who they were, though he told me I 
 could not. My first business was to get rid of these, with- 
 out either spy knowing that the other was absent. So I 
 called one of the spies, who was both house-keeper and laun- 
 dry woman, about evening, and says to her: ' Do, Aunty, 
 put my drawers and closets and boxes in nice order, and 
 if you see a stitch wanting in any thing, repair it, for Mr. 
 St. Vallery comes home tonight, and I am going a journey 
 soon.' Then when she was fairly engaged in the work, I
 
 137 
 
 said: 'There, Aunty, I forgot to show William about those 
 flowers.' Away I ran down to the kitchen ; there was the 
 other spy, 1 said to him: ' I entirely forgot till this mo- 
 ment that Mr. St. Vallery may return this evening in the 
 cars and will expect you to be at the depot.' I tried not 
 to tell any wrong stories about it, but kept as near the 
 truth as I could. 
 
 " Where is Mrs. ?" said the man. 
 
 " Oh ! Aunty ? she is up stairs with me, do hurry." As 
 soon as he was gone I ran on, gave directions to William, 
 to be as good as my word, and then went to the summer 
 house, locked the door, colored my skin with the stuff in 
 the phial, put on my masculine dress, threw my clothes in a 
 large pond, and then scaled the garden wall. This was 
 the substance of her story . Judge my joy when my dear 
 Marian entered the little room where I was. Joy, grati- 
 tude and fear struggled within us. But we were obliged 
 to suppress every feeling. 
 
 I was to pass as an Indian Doctor, going north with my 
 brother, with roots, herbs, medicines, &c. As my mother 
 had been a doctress, I had no difficulty in setting up in my 
 new profession. Our passage had been engaged by our 
 friend, in a vessel bound to Philadelphia. The vessel was 
 to sail that night, as the wind was fair and the cargo near- 
 ly all in. We went on board at ten o'clock, and at twelve 
 the vessel sailed. We had a rough passage, which was 
 an excellent thing for us, as sea-sickness gave us a good 
 excuse for keeping still in our births. When we could 
 have a few moments alone, we improved them in pleasant 
 mutual conference. I found that my sister had been won- 
 derfully preserved. She said St. Vallery had treated her 
 12*
 
 138 
 
 with great consideration and delicacy. She believed God 
 had governed his conduct, in answer to her prayers. But 
 she told me this last time he went into the country, he told 
 her, before he went, that he had hitherto taken no advan- 
 tage of his position, because he hoped to win her to love 
 him ; but he should no longer indulge her whims and su- 
 perstitions as he had done ; that she had been in his house 
 for a long time, and lie had not received from her even 
 the indulgence of one word indicating affection, and he 
 believed her superstition was in the way of her happiness. 
 She told me, the very morning I came, she had been pon- 
 dering what to do, and being much deprest, had sought 
 relief from music, when I came in. On arriving at Phila- 
 delphia, we got a directory, and found where a certain 
 friend lived, whom 1 had seen at the house of Jonas Free- 
 man. We immediately proceeded to the house. Never 
 shall I forget the mild, benignant aspect of the woman 
 who herself received us at the door. In a few words we 
 told her who we were. She left us in the hall a few mo- 
 ments and returned with her husband. " Come in you 
 are with friends," said he. I never can describe, in suit- 
 able words, the sympathy of this affectionate family. Our 
 friends told us it would be most safe for us to leave the 
 city that evening, as the place was full of excitement 
 about the new hav, and many kidnappers were abroad. 
 They took us at once into their family circle. My sister 
 retired, and returned in woman's attire. The females now 
 regarded her with great sympathy. Oh! said the mother, 
 what a country is this, when a young, lovely female like 
 this, who requires so much tenderness, must be driven like 
 a timid fawn, flying from the chase before the face of
 
 139 
 
 this cruel law ; and yet how choice of their own are the 
 persecutors. One of the daughters, who seemed to be a per- 
 soiVof much religious reflection, observed that often-times 
 the Sacred Seers, prophesying of one nation and time, have 
 an embryo-reach, or reference to another nation and people, 
 yet to be ; and she could not but feel that many ancient 
 scriptures and prophecies, have respect to this country, in 
 that way ; the youngest, and for its age and circumstances, 
 the most corrupt, and probably the last of human Em- 
 pires. " This passage," said she, turning to Obadiah 4th 
 verse, certainly seems to contain a striking reference to 
 our new Assyria : " Though thou exalt thyself as the 
 EAGLE, and set thy nest among the STARS, thence will I 
 bring thee down, saith the Lord." Here is another passage 
 which shows how the Lord regarded the mingled cruelty 
 and selfish domestic affection of the Assyrian tyrants, and 
 be assured he thus regards the selfishness and cruelty 
 which marks our American policy, in our Florida and Mex- 
 ican wars, and our Fugitive Slave Law. The passage I 
 refer to, is in Habbakuk, and though spoken of the Assyr- 
 ian Lion, will apply to that bird, " sharp of beak and 
 strong of pinion," which flapped its wings over the burning 
 bones of infants, and virgins and matrons, at Monterey and 
 Vera-Cruz ; the passage reads thus : " The Lion did tear 
 in pieces enough for his whelps, and strangled for his lion- 
 esses, and filled his holes with prey, and his dens with ra- 
 vin." 
 
 These friends were fond of studying phrenology ; they 
 showed us many pictures of modern great men ; among 
 them, of one adversary of our race. But I could not but 
 observe the shape of the eye, like that of the cat kind, and 
 its sleepy ferocity, like that of a tiger at rest.
 
 140 
 
 Too soon the hour arrived when we were to leave this 
 sympathizing family, for a world armed against us ; for 
 these are the days when the brother shall betray the bro- 
 ther to death. Poor Marian looked pale and affrighted, 
 but these good people said all they could to comfort her. 
 They gave us a letter to a hospitable colored family in 
 New York. They gave us money and clothing and their 
 blessing. We then sat awhile in silent prayer, which we 
 found to be sweet and seasonable ; and taking our leave, 
 were soon on our way to the great and wicked city of 
 New York, where pride and poverty, luxury and wealth 
 are struggling together in fierce spiritual collision, so that 
 the smoke and heat of the contest makes thick and heavy 
 the air our spirits breathe. On arriving, we drove to the 
 house of the colored friends. We found, to our alarm 
 and regret, that the family had sold out and gone to Can- 
 ada, having been threatened with a law-suit, being sus- 
 pected of aiding fugitive slaves. We then went to the 
 Anti-Slavery Office, and inquired of one of the friends 
 there for a quiet, safe boarding-house, without daring to 
 disclose, even there, who we were, but only representing 
 ourselves as strangers. We were not prepared for our 
 disappointment, and did not know the right course to take. 
 
 We were directed to the house of Mrs. , on 
 
 street. Nothing could exceed the excitement which ex- 
 isted among the unfortunate colored population of this 
 Western Babylon. The American Eagle was hovering 
 over their homes, just about to make a stoop to seize the 
 first victim of the Fugitive Slave Law. Some were filled 
 with dismay, some roused to heroism ; some quickened 
 their vows to the Lord.
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 The narrator continues the story. 
 
 The time for Jonas and Jasmyn to be tried for being 
 concerned in the escape of the slaves Gilbert and Marian, 
 from Livingston Lawn, was near at hand. They were 
 both, at the time of their flight, the slaves of Mr. Livingston, 
 who brought the action. Mr. Livingston wrote to his neph- 
 ew, to whom he had become quite friendly again, to be 
 there at the time of the trial to witness against Jonas, as 
 he knew several circumstances relating to former trans- 
 actions of the kind in which Jonas had been concerned. 
 He received from him the following reply, written by an 
 amenuensis, and dated from a little village, 
 
 " Dear Uncle, Coming down here on a pleasure ex- 
 cursion, I was taken very ill with a fever. I was recover- 
 ing, but have heard news which has thrown me back, 
 Marian has escaped ; it is supposed she ran away with her 
 brother Gilbert, who has been missing for some time. He 
 ran away from the Reverend Doctor . This gentle- 
 man has gone to California to recover some land which be- 
 came his for some service in the Mexican war. I actual- 
 ly hope Gibbey's master will never retake him, for his cru- 
 elty is proverbial ; but as to Marian, I know not how to 
 give her up, but am as yet sick, and undecided what steps 
 to take. I will try to be there at the time of the trial, al-
 
 142 
 
 though I believe the escape of the slaves was perfectly 
 voluntary. ARTHUR ST. VALLERY." 
 
 To this letter, Mr. Livingston replied by urging Arthur 
 to avail himself of the fugitive slave law, and volunteering 
 to act for him. Although Arthur's better feelings told him 
 it was wrong, his strong selfish passion prevailed, and he 
 took the most downward step he had ever yet taken, and 
 writing to his Uncle, gave him power to act as his agent 
 for the recovery of the beautiful and unfortunate slave. 
 Mr. Livingston, who had not so much flesh left in his heart 
 even as his guilty nephew, but was petrified to solid slave- 
 holding stone, not only undertook to subject his own daugh- 
 ter again to slavery and vice, but this man, this father, un- 
 solicited, extended his rapacity to his son, and took out a 
 warrant for Gilbert, also thinking that his master would 
 give a large reward for him, haying the slave-holders' 
 conventional idea of justice, that every slave should be in 
 his master's hands. He thought no more of Gilbert than 
 of many other slaves on his plantation, who bore the same 
 relationship to him ; he only looked upon him as a more 
 marketable slave than others. The slave breeding States 
 contain many examples similar to this of Mr. Livingston. 
 They make a gain of their licentiousness and think no more 
 of selling their own tender offspring, than a hog or a sheep, 
 regarding them only as a means of increasing their wealth. 
 The worship of Moloch is renewed by these men, only that 
 slavery is the Demon. They cause their own children to 
 pass through the fire, regardless of their shrieks of torment. 
 It shall be more tolerable for Heathen Assyria, in the day 
 of judgement, than for this nation. They have been favor- 
 ed with every civil and religious blessing, and have turned
 
 143 
 
 the very sweetness of Christ's mercy to them, into gall for 
 the poor crucified slave to drink. There is a strange de- 
 lusion on the heart of this people, which makes them as 
 blind as Jewry in the days of Christ, to their blasphemous 
 and wicked position as a nation. The mill-stone is about 
 their neck for their offences against Christ's little ones, yet 
 they cry, " the Lord is for us." Lord, open their eyes !
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 The narrator goes on with the history. 
 
 * There was living in New York at that time a female 
 
 monster, a she-kidnapper, Mrs. . She had made a 
 
 little fortune from the wages given her for this treason to 
 God and man. Worse than all, this traitor was a colored 
 woman. She was a great professor of religion, and had a 
 very soft, meek, sanctified manner. She had not lived in 
 New York when she acquired her property, but removed 
 there afterwards; very few had any suspicions of the man- 
 ner in which her wealth was acquired, and the few who 
 surmised the truth did not dare to breathe their suspicions. 
 She went about, therefore, a wolf in sheep's clothing. She 
 was born at the South, and brought up in a rich southern 
 family. For betraying some of her own people, she had 
 received her freedom. Since that time she had been fre- 
 quently employed in similar service. Nor is she, I fear, 
 the only paid colored Judus in these times. She had a 
 large circle of acquaintance, and had a faculty for draw- 
 ing out information from people. She was well known to 
 all the kidnapping gentry who infested the city. One 
 Sabbath evening, this woman sat at her luxurious table, a 
 most splendid silver tea service before her, when one of 
 those contemptible looking persons entered, whose very 
 look shows " the meanness bursting through." 
 
 * Such a character has been pointed out to me.
 
 145 
 
 " Good evening, Mrs. '' said he. Have you learn- 
 ed any thing of the persons I mentioned to you? " 
 
 " Dear me, sir," said she, " I never like to attend to 
 any worldly business, on the Blessed Sabbath, but in a 
 case of necessity you know, we do not sin ; so sit down, sir. 
 1 think I can give you a little help, but times are hard, and 
 I am in great want of a little ready money." The man 
 took out a well filled purse, " here " said he, handing her 
 the money, " is what we stipulated for, if you could find 
 out these people, but have you found them ? " 
 
 " Oh ! yes, sir, of course, or I should not ask for my 
 pay ; but I makes it a rule to be paid before I give any in- 
 formation. I must be quick, for I told Sister Mowbery, I 
 would go to meeting with her to-night This morning I step- 
 ped into Mrs. , as the church was not open. She al- 
 ways knows all the news. She was full to-day, about this 
 new law, and very high against it, and says I to her, care- 
 lessly, " I wonder if there are any new fugitives arrived ? 
 poor creatures, how I do pity them." 
 
 " Oh ! yes," said she, " two came into the city, last 
 night." 
 
 " Men, I suppose," said I. 
 
 " No," said she, " a man and a woman." 
 
 " I should like to see them," said I, " I might give them 
 some assistance." 
 
 " I will tell you where they are," said she, " but you 
 must not whisper it." 
 
 " No, indeed," said I. She then told me where they 
 
 were, and I went directly to the place. The woman of 
 
 the house, though she is acquainted with me, was very, 
 
 close and mum about the matter. I told her she need not 
 
 13
 
 146 
 
 be so private, I came to bring some money for the poor 
 things. She said I might leave the money if I pleased, it 
 might do good to somebody. 1 left her and went to meet- 
 ing and had a blessed season, and after meeting, I picked 
 a little more out of the first woman, as we walked home 
 together from church. She said the fugitives were to leave 
 Monday evening ; so all you have to do is to be ready for 
 them. 
 
 " I love the white people, sir, I always did. I think the 
 slaves are better off where they are. 'Tis all these Abo- 
 litionists stirring up the slaves, but praise the goodness, 
 this new law will put a stop to their work, and then we 
 shall have peace, blessed peace, as my good book says. I 
 don't want to hurry you, sir, but the bell is ringing ; I wish 
 you good luck, sir," said she, as she aided her guest to 
 the door. 
 
 The reader perceives by this time the danger that hung 
 over Gilbert and Marian. Monday morning, as they were 
 sitting in Marian's room, they talked over their plans. 
 
 " I have spoken for a carriage to take us to the cars this 
 evening," said Gilbert, " but my heart failed me when I 
 did it, and something seemed to say, don't go this evening." 
 
 " And why do you go, brother ; mother always told us 
 to give heed to such intimations." 
 
 " Because, my dear sister, I am afraid to stay here. 
 This woman where we board told me yesterday, she knew 
 from the first that we were fugitives, and I do not like that 
 other woman's leaving money for us. We ought to have re- 
 ported ourselves to the Vigilance Committee, but we were 
 confused at not finding the family we were directed to.* 1
 
 147 
 
 Marian sut looking thoughtfully while her brother thus 
 spake ; her eyes had that full look they always wore when 
 her soul was overflowing. 
 
 " What are you thinking of, Marian," said Gilbert. 
 
 " I am thinking," said she, " of those words from our 
 angel mother, spoken to me in the Glen, and in the Prison 
 again. Twice, thrice through the furnace past. Happy 
 and free, and saved at last. I have been through the fur- 
 nace but twice yet, once when we first escaped, twice 
 when we left New Orleans ; I must go through thrice." 
 
 " Dearest sister," said Gilbert, "do not be sad or super- 
 stitous ; perhaps the third time refers to your death, which 
 we must all pass through. I would go out ttow and try to 
 see some of the friends, but I stept down street just now to 
 speak for the hack, and a mean, suspicious looking fellow, 
 followed and watched me. I think our safest way, on th<? 
 whole, is to keep here still, till evening, and then run the 
 risk of getting off in the cars." 
 
 It was a long day of agony for the poor fugitives. At 
 length the hour came for them to leave. With beating 
 hearts, with anguish, which none can tell but those who 
 have endured it, they entered the carriage. But the dri- 
 ver was bribed, the mean looking man who had watched 
 Gilbert in the morning, was the Sunday visitant of the she- 
 kidnapper. Instead of driving them to the cars, he stop- 
 at a bye-place, where they were surrounded by armed men 
 who rushed into the carriage, and gagged their victims. 
 They took them off without daring to risk even the villain- 
 ously easy process of the new Law, being afraid of a res- 
 cue. They were literally kidnapped. Ah ! where were 
 their golden hopes of liberty ! They were in utter despair.
 
 148 
 
 The ruffian kidnappers urged on their way, day and night, 
 
 until they reached the town of , and were conveyed 
 
 again to the prison, where Jonas and Jasmyn were still in 
 bonds.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 The narrator continues the story. 
 
 We return to tell what had befallen our old friends du- 
 ring this period. Cornelia, we left under the care of Aimee. 
 Aimee kept her hidden, while she converted the jewels in- 
 to money, and carried on a negotiation with her master, 
 which ended in the purchase of her freedom. Just about 
 this time, the Jailer, who lived by himself, wanted a fe- 
 male assistant, and Aimee thinking to benefit her father, 
 and inwardly guided thereto, took Cornelia into her room, 
 one day, and said, " I have had a very pleasant occupation 
 with thee, Cornelia, teaching thce to sew, to read and to 
 write, but now I think an opportunity is opened for thee to 
 do us all good in return. I learned yesterday, that the 
 jailer had lost his female assistant, and is seeking for 
 another. He is a man of good morals, and I have found 
 him more kind than I expected. I do not wish him to 
 know much concerning thee, but go and offer thyself as a 
 domestic, to him. There is a look of capability about thee 
 which will recommend thee at once. But if he requires it, 
 show him thy free papers, and the recommendation I pro- 
 cured from thy master. Thou may'st do much good to 
 my father, and to others. Poor Jasmyn is sick of the jail- 
 fever ; thou art skilful, and may help him." 
 
 Cornelia followed this advice, and had been in her new 
 situation but a week, when again, followed by a hooting 
 13*
 
 150 
 
 mob, who shouted " Huzza for the Fugitive Slave law," 
 Gilbert and Marian entered those iron gates, which they 
 feared would never again open for them, but to consign 
 one to cruel tortures worse than death, and the other to bru- 
 tal violation of the chastity dearer than life. They were 
 thrust into one celL They sat down together. As well 
 as their chains would permit, they embraced and wept. 
 
 " Pure angel," said Gilbert to Marian, " 1 could have 
 died to save thee, but what am I against a nation. This 
 natron has decided that thy virtue shall be violated, or thy 
 chaste body tortured to death. They have decided that 
 because I wanted to be a man, I should suffer all that tyr- 
 anny can inflict. They stand up and boast themselves 
 free. So did tyrrannous and heathenish Rome. Have 
 they not hunted their red brethren with hounds ? have they 
 not rained fiery bombs on Mexican women and children ?- 
 I hope for no mercy from them." 
 
 As he said these words, stung by the oppression w which 
 will make a wise man mad," the door opened, and COIN 
 nelia appeared bringing their food. To Gilbert, her ap- 
 pearance was like the advent of an angel. There was 
 something in her serene, free and glorious eye, that sent 
 healing life through his soul, and calmed at onee the tu 
 mult within. What a moment for love to spring up in the 
 heart, till then a stranger to its power. But it was there, 
 and with it a presentiment that Cornelia was to him the 
 morning star of a better destiny, after that deep night of 
 sorrow. How radiant is goodness, wherever it dwells, 
 whether in black or white ! her pure rays declare the in- 
 dwelling God ; and the soul gazes and is refreshed by the 
 still gliding waters of eternal life. From that instant, Gil-
 
 151 
 
 bert's heart revived. It was Freedom to him, to look at 
 the noble Cornelia. Cornelia stopt a few moments and 
 conversed with them. She told them of Jasmyn's sick- 
 ness. This deeply afflicted his tender wife. How trying ! 
 her husband, whom she loved so truly, so near her, and 
 sick perhaps unto death ! " this is worst of all," said she, 
 after Cornelia left them. Her brother tried to comfort 
 her, in vain ; she could bear no more, and wept till she fell 
 asleep from exhaustion. Gilbert counted the hours till 
 Cornelia came again with their food, and when she appear- 
 ed, forgot the fetters and the prison. Cornelia told Mar- 
 ian her husband knew she was in the prison, and besought 
 her not to grieve for him, even if he should die. " But I 
 think," said Cornelia, "he will get well ; he has good 
 nursing." 
 
 Aimee came that day, to visit her father, as usual. 
 4 ' Aimee," said Jonas, " thou wilt grieve to know that they 
 have hunted down the poor children Gibby and Marian ; 
 they are here in irons. I see no hope for them or for Jas- 
 myn, for even if he lives he will be sold for his jail fees. 
 My soul is sorely pressed, my Aimee, with grief for 
 the enslaved nation, yet still I feel the Everlasting arms 
 under me." 
 
 " Father," said Aimee, while the tears hung like spark- 
 ling chrystals from her long lashes, " how often hast thou 
 told me that ' man's extremity is God's opportunity.' Be 
 not discouraged, I see a rainbow looming up over this 
 storm. The voice of Jesus comes very soft and quieting 
 to me while our barque is being tossed on these billows. 
 4 It is 1,' be not afraid." 
 
 After visiting her father, she wanted to see the other 
 prisoners, but was not permitted to at that time. She then
 
 152 
 
 went to see Sybil. The door of the hut was opened and 
 there sat Sybil, listlessly patting the head of her dog. Her 
 old eyes were almost blind with weeping. That spot, once 
 the seat of cleanly comfort, looked desolate and neglected. 
 
 " How are you, mother?" said Aimee. " Sec, I have 
 brought you some nice tea, such as you love, and some 
 other good things !" 
 
 " Thank you, dear lady," said Sybil, "you are very kind, 
 always was ; but Sybil see no more good, she most done, 
 cannot kill her many more times. This poor old hut, I 
 thought I could sell it to pay Jasmyn's jail fees, but the 
 white man chsated me and I cannot sell it; it is his when 
 I die, and that will be soon." 
 
 " Be calm, good Sybil," said Aimee, " trust in God ; 
 Jasmyn may escape." 
 
 " What if he does escape," said Sybil, " it is of no use, 
 they will hunt him down till he dies! Poor Gibby and 
 Marian. I heard the mob last night ; I was coming from 
 prison; I saw the poor fettered lambs. Ah, where is God, 
 the great good God ! ah, he hide himself a dreadful long 
 time from his poor black people, but let me tell them he 
 comes, he comes bye-and-bye. I saw him last night in 
 deep sleep, and he chased this wicked nation before him 
 like a rolling thing, and from his cloudy garment came 
 such dreadful lightnings that I said, ' who shall live when 
 he doeth this !' "
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 la which Gilbert again appears in person, speaking for himself. 
 
 " She comes ! she comes ! my chosen one, 
 The bright-eyed daughter of the sun ; 
 The life that in that bosom glows, 
 The pale oppressor never knows ; 
 None of the dwindling Saxon race 
 Can match her free and vigorous grace ; 
 Though sable skin her form may shroud, 
 An angel dwells within the cloud." 
 
 The reader has been told of the new change that had 
 come over me. It seemed to me, when I entered the 
 prison, the tenth wave of affliction was breaking over me. 
 But God sent to me Cornelia, like the angel of his mercy. 
 Jasmyn's anxiety for his wife, had produced an excite- 
 ment, favorable to his recovery, and he was now convales- 
 cent. Cornelia now began to prepare for the execution of 
 a scheme she had formed for our deliverance. She barely 
 told us such a design was in her mind, but said she felt if 
 she told any one the details of her plan, she should lose 
 her faith, and should not succeed. She consulted with us, 
 as to our route, dress, &c., and procured for us the neces- 
 sary habiliments. But not even to Aimee, did she confide 
 the means by which she proposed to execute the scheme, 
 but only requested her not to leave her father that night, 
 but remain with him in the prison ; as she was often per- 
 mitted to do so, when he was unwell. " For," said she,
 
 154 
 
 " I shall feel strong if you are here." I told her if she 
 could help us, I should be glad, but conjured her not to do 
 this, if she must share our dangers, and risk the liberty so 
 wonderfully obtained. To which the generous girl only 
 replied, " Gilbert, there is no other way, but for me to 
 share your danger, and I am willing to leave my fate with 
 God, while I am doing his will, and setting free you and 
 Marian, and her husband ; so you must talk no more, but 
 let me do my work." 
 
 When Cornelia lived in Texas, an old Indian used often 
 to come to her master's, who was in much esteem among 
 his people, as a prophet and a doctor. He was well skill- 
 ed in nature's lore, and understood the nature and virtues 
 of plants. Cornelia showed him all the kindness her active, 
 loving nature prompted towards every one who came in 
 her way. He, in return for the many good offices she did 
 him, communicated to her many secrets of his trade, and 
 made her an herb doctress. Among the rest, he taught 
 her to prepare a powerful but innoxious anodyne, which 
 he called the sleepy charm. It was to this she owed, un- 
 der Providence, her own deliverance from slavery. The 
 jailer was accustomed to eat a late supper and to take two 
 or three cups of strong coffee. Cornelia would often take 
 some also to the men who kept guard. She infused her 
 anodyne into this strong coffee, and they all drank freely 
 of it, without any suspicion, on the evening of our flight. 
 She had observed where the jailer kept his keys, and as 
 soon as she saw him effectually asleep, she secured them, 
 and after reconnoitering about the prison, and finding 
 them all asleep, she came and unlocked our cells. We 
 were all equipped for flight, It was agreed that it was
 
 155 
 
 safest for us to take different routes, though finally 
 to meet at one place. Also, we concluded it best that 
 Jasmyn and Cornelia should travel together, and Mar- 
 ian and myself were to take a course over the moun- 
 tains. I prepared to appear in our old disguise, if 
 needful ; Cornelia and Jasmyn were to go as master and 
 servant. Jasmyn was nearly as white as Master. Cor- 
 nelia, drest in a green frock coat, trousers, and jockey-cap, 
 being naturally athletic and graceful, was not so easily de- 
 tected in her disguise, as other women might be, for her 
 habits of life had been more like those of the other sex, 
 and calculated to produce a healthy, robust constitution ; 
 yet her nature was so truly feminine, that it softened those 
 traits which had otherwise rendered her less lovely as a 
 woman. Marian and Jasmyn had not met before since 
 their first capture, on their memorable bridal evening. It 
 was a tender, but silent meeting, for we dared not speak 
 a word, for fear of alarming the other prisoners. For 
 myself, I experienced a variety of emotions. I saw the 
 generous Cornelia about to share with us the terrible risks 
 of a run-a-way, increased ten-fold by the new law. While 
 from my soul I admired her magnanimity, I could not 
 bear she should thus risk her new found freedom. Silent- 
 ly and softly we left the prison, under her conduct, and 
 passed the guard, soundly sleeping under the influence of 
 her magnetic potion. I thought of the angel who opened 
 the gates for the apostle ! On the outskirts of the town, 
 we parted. 
 
 " Not so they part in peaceful times, 
 The lovers of a happier race, 
 As we in peril's fearful hour,
 
 156 
 
 At our appointed place. 
 Oh ! strong the love that springs up there, 
 And grapples with our heart's despair ; 
 Yet not a word we dared to speak, 
 Lest even the traitor bush should toll : 
 And the hot tears upon the cheek, 
 Was all that said farewell ! ! "
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 The narrator resumes the story. 
 
 Aimee and Jonas aided the fugitives by counsel and by 
 giving them letters to their friends. After taking an affec- 
 tionate leave of them on the evening of their flight, she 
 returned to her father's cell to pass the night with him. 
 She had provided a little couch for herself to use on such 
 occasions. Jonas felt so intensely for them that she feared 
 it would injure him, and sat by his side till Cornelia came, 
 unlocked the door, and gave her the silent signal they had 
 agreed upon. Cornelia then went on leaving the doorslightJy 
 ajar, not feeling as if she could turn the key on her friends. 
 At her father's earnest request, Aimee lay down on the 
 couch to rest. Let us leave her asleep in that sweet peace 
 " which goodness bosoms ever," and look in at Livings- 
 ton Lawn. 
 
 On the evening of this eventful night, Arthur St. Vallery 
 arrived at his uncle's seat. He found Mr. Livingston absent. 
 His aunt was indisposed, so that he saw neither of them. 
 The sight of the library where the dreadful tragedy had 
 occurred, deeply affected him. During his recent illness, 
 his sinful life had troubled him. He even almost resolved 
 to give up the beautiful slave, whom, with all his wealth, 
 youth and personal attractions, he had been unable to se- 
 duce from virtue ; often on his sick bed her image seemed 
 to rise before him. He saw the languor of deep settled 
 14
 
 158 
 
 sorrow in her gentle eyes : he heard her pleading voice, 
 and execrated his own selfishness and tyranny. But with 
 returning health, these feelings gave place to the habitual 
 domination of passion, and when he heard of her escape, 
 he was almost beside himself. It was at this time he first 
 wrote to his uncle, and soon after received in reply, his 
 uncle's offer to act as his agent, and use the power of the 
 Fugitive Slave Law to recover her. He hesitated ; the 
 nobler feelings of his nature revolted at the step, but his 
 education as a slave-holder, came in to the aid of his sel- 
 fish passion. ' She is my slave,' said he, ' I have a right 
 to her ; perhaps on her return, she will be more humble 
 and submissive. I hate the spirit of this law, but for once 
 I will use it. The foolish girl, to oppose her own good for- 
 tune.' He then wrote and accepted his uncle's offer, who 
 gave him notice that the fugitives were discovered, and 
 about to be arrested, and he would undoubtedly find them 
 in prison on his arrival. But after St. Vallery had taken 
 that downward step, he lost his own self-respect, and har- 
 rassing stings of conscience continually tormented him. He 
 saw the amiable Marian, in the hands of her kidnappers ; 
 he saw her chained and driven by a mob to prison ; he saw 
 her brother about to be delivered to a tyrant, who would 
 spare no ingenuity of torture, and he felt himself a base, 
 dastardly tyrant. His pertubation increased the nearer he 
 drew to her place of confinement, and when he arrived at 
 Livingston Lawn, no wonder the remembrance of what 
 had transpired there, completed the horror of his mind. 
 He slept none that night, and rising at early dawn, he took 
 his horse and rode to town, resolving to see the jailer, and 
 have Marian placed in a more comfortable situation till he
 
 159 
 
 was ready to remove her. He had not apprized Gilbert's 
 master, of his probable arrest, as he had been requested 
 to by his uncle, for he was secretly determined to give 
 him a chance to escape. He hitched his horse at the end 
 of the street leading to the jail, and walked up. He was 
 surprised to find the outer gate open so early, and the 
 guards asleep, but he passed on. He entered the house ; 
 it reminded him of ancient legends where some potent en- 
 chantress 1 wand has locked all in magic sleep. The high, 
 dim lamps, glimmered in their sockets, as he passed through 
 the long, gloomy passages. Thought he, it is possible 
 they have escaped ; and something like a weight passed off 
 his heart. As he went on, he heard the low, continuous 
 sound of a human voice ; it was the voice of a female in 
 deep prayer; following the sound, he came to a room the 
 door of which was partly open. By the early morning 
 light streaming down through the grated windows, he be- 
 held a female bowed in supplication, and beside her, a 
 venerable man, who joined with her in her devotions. 
 There was a voice within that voice, that reached his in- 
 most soul, and pierced through and through that long clo- 
 sed heart. " Oh, Saviour," said the suppliant, " shall the 
 man of the earth always oppress ? Look thou on the 
 jioor fugitives, and be to them a very present help in trou- 
 ble. By all those precious sufferings of thine which link 
 thy greatness with our weakness, and touch thee, even 
 thee, with human sympathy, look on the Enslaved Nation ! 
 Are not all hearts in thy hand, and canst thou not turn the 
 heart of the oppressor, and wilt thou not do it ? Be very 
 gracious to our friends who left us last night ; be their 
 guard by day, and by night. And for us who voluntarily
 
 160 
 
 remain, help us to bear a good testimony before the coun- 
 cil, speaking in the spirit of Thee our Father. Let them 
 take away our earthly goods, and even our earthly life. 
 Father, thou art our good and our abiding life. Yet, Fa- 
 ther, forgive us that we weep while we pray, for we weep 
 not for ourselves alone ; we sorrow even unto thee for the 
 poor slaves. We weep for very anguish, and brokenness 
 of heart. Father, suffer us to weep." Here her voice 
 choked with sobs, but an involuntary movement made by 
 St. Vallery, caused Jonas to turn his head, and he beheld, 
 to his astonishment, a stranger standing just within the 
 room. " Who art thou," said Jonas ? 
 
 " I am a sinner, and the greatest of sinners," said St. 
 Vallery. " Like Saul I have been ' haling men and women 
 to prison.' Like him, a light above the brightness of 
 the sun, has struck down my pride. Oh ! pray for me ! 
 pray for me ! I am Marian's guilty master. No tongue 
 can utter what I have suffered the past week. I must re- 
 turn now ; I cannot stop. But of one thing be assured, 
 the poor fugitives from this prison shall not be pursued- 
 I shall be quick, to prevent it. From this moment, Marian 
 is free. With these words he went away, passing out as 
 he came in, and re-mounting his horse, returned to Liv- 
 ingston Lawn. Mr. Livingston had returned, and recei- 
 ved his nephew as if nothing had ever taken place of an 
 unpleasant nature between them. He observed that he 
 was very serious ; but that seemed very proper, as this 
 was the first time they had met. But after breakfast, Mr. 
 Livingston began to talk with him about the impending 
 trial, and Arthur at once requested him to withdraw the 
 suit,
 
 161 
 
 " Now, if ever," said his unele, " we must maintain our 
 rights. I hope you will give evidence in this trial, that Gibby 
 was my slave, and will testify against the general character 
 of Jonas Freeman, as a known abettor of insubordination, 
 among the slaves. You know several facts about it." 
 
 " Indeed I cannot, uncle," said Arthur, " especially as 
 1 do believe that the escape of the slaves was voluntary in 
 this case. I had resolved to have nothing to do with it, 
 before I left home, and only came to recover Marian." 
 
 " You do not seem aware," said his uncle, " of the 
 crisis we are passing through. Jonas Freeman deserves 
 to be made an example of. I think he has had a hand in the 
 escape of run-a-ways, for the last twenty years. I am re- 
 joiced he is caught at last. But as to the slaves : I sup- 
 pose Jasmyn will be sold for his jail fees. Marian you 
 will take. I suppose you have written to the Doctor, 
 about Gibby." 
 
 " Sir," said Arthur, " As I live nearest the Doctor, 1 
 will take charge of Gilbert, and will pay you over to-day, 
 if you wish it, the reward offered for his apprehension." 
 
 " That would be a great convenience," said Mr. Liv- 
 ingston, " at present ; but you must take care he docs not 
 run away before his master lays his hands on him again. 
 I think he ought to be speedily returned to him ; he is a 
 dangerous and audacious fellow." 
 
 How differently all this sounded, in the ears of Arthur, 
 from what it had done before. The great work had indeecj 
 begun in his soul. 
 
 14*
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 The narrator continues the story. 
 
 Arthur St. Vallery returned that forenoon to the prison. 
 The jailer, who was now broad awake, met him at the 
 door, not dreaming that he had been there before. He 
 met Arthur with a ready coined story. He came forward 
 with a rueful face, one arm in a sling, and one of his eyes 
 bound up. 
 
 " Is this Mr. St. Vallery ?" said he. 
 
 "Yes, good morning, sir ; how came you hurt ?" 
 
 " There was not half strong guard enough, sir, and the 
 niggers have got away. 1 want no drunken men to guard 
 such fellows as that Gibby, and about all the guard were 
 drunk. We had a terrible scuffle." 
 
 " You need not trouble yourself at all," said St. Vallery. 
 ' I have not the least doubt you did your duty." 
 
 " I did," said the jailer, " and you put out a good hand- 
 some reward, and 1 have no doubt they will be brought in 
 to-day." 
 
 " No hurry," said St. Vallery, " we are sure enough." 
 
 " Yes," replied the jailer, " that new law makes all dif- 
 ference ; pretty hard law, though, upon the poor niggers." 
 
 Arthur found the jailer agreeably disappointed at his in- 
 difference, though somewhat marveling at the cause of it. 
 The truth of the story was this: "When the jailer first 
 came to himself, he rubbed his eyes, and said, " I wonder
 
 163 
 
 why that jade Cornelia has not waked me before, 'tis broad 
 day ;" looking out at the window as he was dressing, he 
 wondered to see one or two guards asleep. Going down, 
 he met one of the guard, and says, u what does all this 
 mean ?" 
 
 " Mean . ? " said the man, " It means that the devil has 
 been here, stolen the keys, and let out them niggers." 
 
 " Ah, you rogue," said the jailer, " you have been 
 drunk. I found my keys in their old place ; but I read the 
 riddle now. This is all Cornelia's work ; I'll go look in the 
 kitchen ; I'll bet she's gone with them." 
 
 He went, and soon returned. 
 
 " She's gone," said he, " I wonder what I was thinking 
 of, when I hired that jade, Cornelia ? I might have known 
 by the look of her eye, she was up to any thing. A fine 
 scrape we shall have, when their owner comes, and he 
 passed through town last evening. But how she got them 
 keys, and put them back again so snug that's the mys- 
 tery. I believe she is a witch, and bewitched us all, for 
 look, how we all slept." He then went on and examined 
 the cells. He found the cell where Jonas was, open. He 
 was alone, for Aimee had gone to carry the news of the 
 escape to Sybil. 
 
 " How came your cell opened," said the jailer. 
 
 " I did not open it," said Jonas, " but thee sees I might 
 have gone if I had been so willed." 
 
 " Do you know anything how the slaves got out ?" said 
 the jailer, " come, you must let me into this business." 
 
 " When thee shows me thy right to make such inquiries, 
 perhaps I may reply to thee. Thou hast the keys, hast 
 thou not ? "
 
 164 
 
 " Yes, I found them where I always keep them." 
 
 " Then thou must read the riddle." 
 
 " I'll give this business up," said the jailer, as he retired. 
 " I wish I was back north, yes, I do ; this young southern- 
 er will be here presently, all blood and battle, and ready 
 to eat me up alive, because his niggers are gone. I must 
 
 fix up a story for him. 
 
 ******* 
 
 Arthur having quieted the jailers fears, asked to see Jo- 
 nas. He found him still alone, and entered into a long 
 conversation with him. 
 
 " In my late sickness," said he, " I first felt the terrors 
 of an awakened conscience, but as my health returned, I 
 strove against, and overcome those feelings, but since I 
 heard that prayer, this morning, there seems to have come 
 a strange change over my mind ; scales have fallen from 
 my eyes. I am perfectly ready to give Marian her free- 
 dom, and I am astonished at my own readiness to do so. 
 To-morrow I will give you her free papers. I mean to pur- 
 chase Gilbert of his master, that I may free him, also. A 
 very simple plan has suggested itself, by which I can cover 
 up their flight, which is not yet known beyond the prison. 
 I shall take the preparatory steps before I leave the prison." 
 
 " These are true signs of thy heart's being moved," said 
 Jonas, "just and righteous acts are they, and dost thou not 
 feel vastly the better ? " 
 
 "Certainly," said Arthur, " it was like death to me to 
 part with Marian, but when I had yielded to my convic- 
 tions, it was like taking a heavy chain off a man." 
 
 " Yes," said Jonas, " and for every slave thou free'st, a 
 shackle will fall from off thine own soul, and when the
 
 165 
 
 last one falls from thy last slave, thou shalt be free indeed." 
 
 " I am not able to do all that yet," said Arthur ; " I do 
 not see it my duty, but I mean to be a better master." 
 
 " I must not keep back the truth from thee," said Jonas. 
 " God will have a whole burnt offering ; thou wilt not rest 
 till thou hast given up all." 
 
 " I wish I could induce uncle to withdraw the suit," 
 said Arthur. 
 
 " I thank thee for thy good wishes," said Jonas ; " I love 
 thee, and pray that He that has begun with thee, will finish 
 
 his work." 
 
 ******* 
 
 " The trial come on the next day, and Jonas was ar- 
 raigned before the court. The court room was crowded. 
 All the gentry in the vicinity were there, and all the 
 Friends who lived about there ; hanging about the doors, 
 among the crowd, were many poor colored people, who 
 loved Jonas as a father. The principal evidence against 
 the prisoner, was given by the slave hunters, who surprised 
 them in the cave, and, though some of these were overseers, 
 and low bullies, yet, to their shame, be it spoken, the 
 proudest of the gentry were among them ; there was also 
 some testimony given to prove that Jonas had been often 
 guilty of similar offences. Mr. Livingston made one more 
 private effort to bring Arthur to the witness stand, but he 
 told him at once, if he came he should witness in favor of 
 Jonas. On the part of the prisoner, the chief evidence was 
 his daughter, and Dorcas Hart, though several eminent 
 public Friends, bore witness to his excellent character, by 
 voluntary testimony. When Aimee came forward to the 
 stand, she attracted every eye. That air of touching grief
 
 threw over her youth and beauty a sacred charm, that all 
 felt, and for a moment, you might have heard a pin fall. 
 
 There was one, among the crowd, who in the morning 
 twilight, in the gloomy darkened cell, had but faintly discer- 
 ned that countenance, who could not withdraw his eyes from 
 her meek loveliness. With great self-possession, she gave 
 her evidence. Dorcas Hart followed ; poor Dorcas, who 
 never thought to see such a trying day. Jonas was allow- 
 ed to plead his own cause, which he did briefly. " In the 
 first place," said he, " I am accused of enticing away these 
 slaves, to which I boldly plead, not guilty. That these 
 poor slaves came to me, I do not deny ; that 1 entertained 
 them with a little of that hospitality, whereby some of old 
 entertained angels unawares, I am free to own. I like- 
 wise brought them a piece on their journey. That is the 
 whole of my crime. Do with me as you will, I have finish- 
 ed my course, I have kept the faith. Henceforth there is 
 laid up for me a crown of righteousness." Jonas then sat 
 down, the peace which dwelt within, illuminating his ven- 
 erable countenance. The Jury retired : in a short time 
 they returned, with their verdict guilty of harboring and 
 aiding the fugitive slaves. He was not arrested, nor the 
 action brought under the new law ; his sentence was not 
 imprisonment, but banishment from the State, and a fine 
 of three thousand dollars. He was to leave the State di- 
 rectly. A slight tremor shook the frame of the prisoner. 
 He bowed his head, and buried his face in his hands. 
 
 " My father," exclaimed a voice from the little compa- 
 ny of Friends, and instantly Aimee was by his side. The 
 holy instincts of nature, over-awed the court, as father and 
 daughter wept together. They were no more seperated.
 
 167 
 
 Some officers were appointed to attend them beyond the 
 bounds of the State. The Friends came around them with 
 heart-felt expressions of sorrow. There was one among 
 the group of young men at the door, who stepped forward, 
 and with deep respect, handed the exile and his daughter, 
 and Dorcas Hart, into the carriage, for the faithful Dorcas, 
 who had laid up a little property by industry, chose to 
 share their exile. He who had thus publicly evinced his 
 sympathy with the outcasts, gazed after the carriage until 
 it was out of sight, then slowly walked away. " And so 
 it is," said he, " an angel has appeared before me in my 
 downward path, warned me, awakened me, and forever 
 vanished from my sight ! and yet what is she to me ! " 
 The pride of caste placed the beautiful quakeress, the 
 daughter of a simple Quaker farmer, almost as decidedly 
 out of the pale of that circle, where he must be expected 
 to woo and wed, as Marian herself. 
 
 He had concerted the plan with the jailer, by which he 
 proposed to conceal the flight of Gilbert and Marian. The 
 guard came easily into it, as their own honor was concerned. 
 He was to come in the evening with a carriage, on pretence 
 of removing the slaves, in order to take them away. He 
 accordingly went to the jail, where two of the guard, dis- 
 guised, were carried ofFin his carriage as the slaves. But as 
 for Jasmyn, he told the jailer that he need not be concerned, 
 as he knew, by money, he could prevent all further inqui- 
 ry or proceedings against him. He told him, also, that 
 Jasmyn had been reported ill, and his trial postponed. 
 
 " Yes," said the jailer, " and before it comes on, I, my- 
 self, mean to be among the missing." 
 
 After this simple stratagem was performed, he returned
 
 168 
 
 to Livingston Lawn. The following day, after some final 
 arrangements had been made with his Uncle, he left the 
 place, not, however, before he had visited Sybil, and left 
 with her a handsome gift, and the encouraging news that 
 there would be no pursuit of the fugitives. 
 
 " God bless him !" said Sybil, as she watched him from 
 the door, riding up the road on horse-back, shading her 
 eyes" with her hand, while she looked after him. " I al- 
 ways saw something good at work with him, when he was 
 wildest ; I always said he would turn, and when he did 
 turn, it would be a real turn, and no make-believe. He 
 has put more heart in me, than I have had this many a 
 day ; God bless him ! " 
 
 St. Vallery took the same road the carriage had taken, 
 the preceding day. He followed them, not merely from a 
 romantic interest, but because he felt that he owed Jonas 
 a generous assistance. He regreted that he had not ascer- 
 tained their destination, but only knew their course, while 
 the officers attended them.
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 Wherein Gilbert relates the adventures of his flight. 
 
 Dark was the night when we parted, but darker were 
 our prospects. The Fugitive Slave Law, like a wall of 
 fire, barred usouton every hand, from human aid. Had I 
 been alone, my flight had been less difficult, but although 
 Marian was capable of great and patient endurance, she 
 was a cause of much anxiety to me. Cornelia had provid- 
 ed as well as she could, but we had neither much food or 
 money. Yet, we trustingly commended ourselves to Him, 
 who is able to spread a table in the wilderness. 
 
 Our design was, after crossing the mountains, to take a 
 northern course. We dreaded every noise ; when we lurk- 
 ed at night, we saw a foe ready to start from every bush. 
 The sight of one of our white fellow beings, instead of 
 waking glad response of human welcome, sent to our hearts 
 a sick, and shuddering fear. But fear, apprehension, and 
 fatigue, finally overcame my poor sister. She was unable 
 to keep up with me. But " Christ often for the saddest 
 hour reserves the sweetest aid. 1 ' I climbed up an emi- 
 nence, and looking around espied a hut which from its ap- 
 pearance, I believed to be the shanty of some Irishman. 
 Leaving Marian situated as comfortable as I could, I went 
 on to the hut of the emigrant to ask some relief, for I fear- 
 ed she would die from hunger and weariness. As I reach- 
 15
 
 170 
 
 ed the hut, I saw the emigrant smoking his pipe, at the 
 door. 
 
 " Can you give shelter," said I, " to a sick lad, who is 
 faint by the road-side ? " 
 
 " To be sure, and I will," said he, " and welcome to 
 such as it is. Been sporting in the woods ? " said he, see- 
 ing my gun. 
 
 ' : A little," said I, " but my brother is not a very good 
 hunter, and has suddenly fallen ill.'' 
 
 " I understand ye, honey," said the Irishman ; " Yees 
 best not tell me no more nor ye like, for, by my faith, ye're 
 a couple of run-a-ways ! none the worse for that, my boy ; 
 is'nt liberty as swate, and as natural to you as to me, and 
 is'nt it myself has come all the way from ould Ireland, j'st, 
 to snuff a breath of fresh air here in the wilderness ? will I 
 grudge that same to yourself? no, by the powers, never a 
 bit." 
 
 By this time, we had came to the spot where we had 
 left Marian. She had fainted ! 
 
 " Ah, cush la ma chree," said the Irishman, as we lifted 
 her up ; " your brother is as beautiful a boy as ever my eyes 
 beheld, but he is very poorly ; come, we will take him 
 home. He is very dead in himself, poor fellow, the light 
 of heaven be on his sowl." 
 
 We took Marian into the hut, laid her on a bed, and, 
 after chafing her temples awhile, she recovered. This 
 Christian Irishman then gave us a hearty meal, of baked 
 sweet potatoes, bread and bacon. In the expressive Scrip- 
 ture phrase, " our eyes were enlightened." 
 
 " Ye've heard of the new law, I suppose," said our 
 host. " Bother on me, but it is a divil of a law, any how,
 
 171 
 
 this same purgative law. It goes agin my stomach, any 
 way." I told him we did not mean to trespass long on 
 his hospitality, in such dangerous times, and especially in 
 a southern country. 
 
 " 1 don't know much about the counthry at all," said 
 he. " I liked the land well, and bought a little patch of 
 a farm here, but Lord save us, if I may not give a crust of 
 my bread to a poor sowl, I'm for a short stay here. I've 
 lost my wife since I've been here, as cliver and nate a 
 crature as ye'd feast your two eyes on, and two pretty 
 boys, there yonder, is their graves, the dear cratures. I've 
 lain them by her side, God bless her ! " 
 
 As he spoke this, he dashed away his tears, and gave 
 three or four long whiffs with his pipe. " I've lost," said 
 he, " what made this lonesome place, home to me, but 
 that is not so hard, as not to have the liberty of giving a 
 Christian a throp of cold water. It's no liberty at all I'm 
 thinking. Don't you be after stirring to-night. You? 
 brother may slape on my bed, and you and I will keep 
 watch with Jowler." 
 
 " No," said I, " my good friend, we must not trespass 
 on you, it might cause you trouble ; here is a silver piece 
 for you." 
 
 " Yees may keep your silver ; it would be a long way 
 from me to make a poor man any the poorer ; Heaven's 
 got a very narrow gate for the like of us to get through, 
 any way. Ye need not lave at any rate, till it gets late, 
 for 1 like your company, it gives me heart." 
 
 I stopped with him an hour or two longer, for I wanted 
 to talk with him about the best things. The good Irish- 
 man lent a listening ear, and promised to seek that inward
 
 172 
 
 evidence of a blood-bought pardon, of which I told him. 
 About midnight, we left our hospitable Irishman. Marian 
 had quite recovered her strength, by the generous refresh- 
 ment this good Samaritan had given us. A few nights af- 
 ter, we had like to have fallen into the hands of thieves. 
 I found an old, desolate house, dilapidated and entirely un- 
 inhabited, except one old kitchen we went into ; we saw 
 some rude seats here, and a table. There was ashes on 
 the hearth, and raking among them, we perceived that 
 there had been a fire there recently, which was not yet ex- 
 tinguished. " It is only some hunter's fire," said I, for I 
 wanted to stay and cook some game I had. I did so^ but 
 felt apprehensive all the time. After we had eaten, I took 
 a look around , and found an old cellar, pretty snug, and 
 remote from the kitchen. In this place we secreted our- 
 selves for the night, as well as we could, hiding ourselves 
 behind the fallen remains of an old chimney. We heard 
 soon after, the tramp of horses. Soon the sounds of laugh- 
 ter and jollity came from the old kitchen. 1 could not re- 
 sist my curiosity to know what they were doing ; I crept 
 softly around to the kitchen windows, and looking in, saw 
 about thirty men round the old table, drinking. But what 
 painfully drew my attention, was a poor black man tied 
 up with ropes. I found that they were a gang of rogues, 
 who robbed, kidnapped, or broke into houses, as either 
 seemed most profitable. Oh ! what an object the man was ; 
 his poor, half-naked, emaciated body deeply furrowed with 
 the marks of the cruel scourge, his rags hanging about 
 him, and his countenance the most expressive of haggard 
 fear and despair, I ever saw. 
 
 I went back and told my sister what I had seen.
 
 173 
 
 " These men," said I, " will soon be dead drunk ; we 
 are here in a lonely place ; we might, at great peril, res- 
 cue their prisoner, yet we ought to be flying from this place, 
 this very moment." 
 
 Marian paused a moment, thoughtfully. " 'Tis hard, 
 Gibby," she said, " to risk all, but what should we ask 
 him to do for us, if we were in his place ? " 
 
 " Then, Marian, I must leave you a little distance off, 
 that you, at least, may escape." 
 
 " No, dear Gibby," said she, " let me take my chance 
 with you." 
 
 But I persisted, telling her that I could do nothing, if she 
 remained. It was a little hollow in the woods, where I lo- 
 cated Marian ; then returning to the house, I waited until 
 the last man fell under the table, as I judged from the si- 
 lence that ensued. Soon after, I cautiously entered the 
 kitchen. Every one of these wretched men, were stretch- 
 ed upon the floor. I made a gesture to the prisoner not to 
 speak or move. I then took a large butcher knife, cut the 
 ropes that bound him, and made a motion for him to follow 
 me. The poor creature gladly obeyed. We went silent- 
 ly to the place where I had left my sister. We found her 
 praying for our success. We told the man we would help 
 him all we could ; our provisions were scanty enough, but 
 we willingly shared with him, what we had. " Ours was 
 an angel's portion then." He traveled with us until we 
 arrived in a free State. He then struck off in another di- 
 rection, but we heard from him, after his arrival in Canada. 
 He brought us a blessing. We always had our fill, at the 
 homely meals we shared together. One day we found 
 
 some bread and game, left by some hunter. Once a day, 
 15*
 
 174 
 
 we prayed to Him who had " bought us with a price," bade 
 us not to be the servants of men, and to call no man mas- 
 ter. We were now in a free State, yet I did not feel safe. 
 Here the terror of the law reigned ; yet, were there some 
 who quailed not, but calmly defied the power of evil. I 
 had a letter from Jonas, to a certain man of wealth, an ac- 
 quaintance of his, a professed Anti-slavery man. One 
 evening, after we were fairly sick with fear and fatigue, 
 we knocked at his door. It was beginning to rain, and we 
 thought we were sure of a comfortable rest and shelter, for 
 the night. The gentleman came to the door. He was a 
 
 sightly well-to-do looking man ; we asked if it was Mr. ; 
 
 lie surveyed us very closely, stepped out into the porch, 
 and half closing the door, says: 
 
 " You are fugitive slaves, are you not ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 "I am sorry that I cannot receive <you, but the law is 
 very severe, and this is a pro-slavery neighborhood." 
 
 44 Are you not an abolitionist ? " 
 
 " No, not exactly an abolitionist, but I am an anti-slavery 
 man. I consider it an ill advised thing, for you slaves to 
 run away, at all. The new law is cruel and unjust. 
 There is a disposition, among rational friends of the slave, 
 to assist and protect those already here, but you that come 
 out now, after you know your risk, must not expect much 
 encouragement." 
 
 " Sir," said I, " would you have us stay and suffer more 
 than ever ? for this law makes it safe for the slaveholder 
 to increase his cruelties." 
 
 " I know it is very bad," said the gentleman, " but I do 
 not see how it can be helped."
 
 175 
 
 He was settling his spectacles, and about to go in, when 
 I presented my letter from Jonas Freeman. He took the 
 letter and went in, but returned soon, and said: 
 
 " Friend Jonas has got into trouble, and he wants others 
 to be as imprudent as himself. Here," said he, handing 
 me a small piece of change, " this is all I am able to give 
 you, just now." 
 
 " But, sir, can you not tell us where we can lodge, have 
 you no barn ? " 
 
 " No, no, but stop, there is a widow woman lives down 
 by that old bridge. She has nothing to lose, but the old 
 house she lives in. She was here to-day, with some work, 
 and said her door should be open to every fugitive that 
 came along. Her name is Woodly." 
 
 " We left the man, sincerely hoping, all the other anti- 
 slavery friends we met with, would be of the irrational sort. 
 We felt loth to trouble the poor widow. Unhappy fugitive, 
 a source of danger to thy best friends. Mrs, Woodly's 
 house stood on the out-skirts of the village, and we con- 
 cluded to stop there till the rain was over, which was now 
 falling fast. Stern necessity drove us on. We reached 
 the house ; how different from the stately mansion we had 
 left. Some rose bushes, and an elm, at a little distance, 
 were its rural ornaments. We knocked. A little, pleas- 
 ant looking, chubby faced boy opened the door. 
 " Is Mrs. Woodly at home ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir, but come in, don't stand in the rain, I will 
 go and find mother." The manner of a child almost 
 always indicates the real character of the family, and this 
 hospitable admittance ensured our welcome. We accept- 
 ed the invitation of the little welcomer. We entered a
 
 176 
 
 neat, plain room. Two ruddy children were sitting togeth- 
 er, in a large rocking-chair, singing that most touching of 
 all anti-slavery melodies, The "Blind Child to his Mother." 
 Their plain supper, of bread and milk, was on the table. 
 Every thing showed a well ordered economy, from the 
 clean, thrifty rag carpet on the floor, to the neat check 
 apron of the children. Presently, Mrs. Woodly came in, 
 just such a motherly woman as we expected to see. 
 
 " I am glad to see you," said she, " I know what sort of 
 people you are. Welcome, in the name of Him who had 
 not where to lay his head." 
 
 " Then you are not afraid of the risk," said I, " it is only 
 necessity that has caused us to trouble you." 
 
 " I believe in God," said she, with glistening eyes, 
 " and I feel, that in denying you a shelter, I should be 
 shutting my door on the Saviour. You are welcome to the 
 best I have." 
 
 Oh ! Webster, thou couldst not make this woman poor, 
 with the talons of the Fugitive Law upon her, and the Uni- 
 ted States at thy back. What a welcome we had; how cheer- 
 fully she rummaged out the choicest of her simple danties, 
 for us. The spirit of Mary, who poured the precious oint- 
 ment over the feet of Jesus, was in this woman. Some 
 would have satisfied their charity, in giving two such sad 
 looking outlaws as we were, some coarse food, in a coarse 
 way ; but no, the nice home-spun linen damask cloth, her 
 mother's own spinning, ( Heaven rest her soul, for giv- 
 ing birth to such a daughter,) was brought forth, the best 
 china she had, and the best fare she had, was on the table, 
 and as we drew around, she looked up for a blessing, and 
 said, come Lord, and partake with us in the person of thy
 
 177 
 
 poor outcasts ; come Lord, and bless me and my children, 
 and the stranger within our gates. Poor fugitive Pilgrims, 
 after sore trials are often brought to some " House Beauti- 
 ful, or hospitable shepherds." After supper, Mary, James 
 and Robert, sang many anti-slavery, and devotional hymns. 
 When we retired, it was to the best room, and the best 
 bed. We told her we should leave as soon as the storm 
 abated. 
 
 " Go when you will," said she, " the blessing of God go 
 with you." 
 
 We left before day, as we were cautious not to give trou- 
 ble. We went on. At the next stopping-place, we had 
 another letter to deliver, from Jonas. We entered the 
 village late in the evening, but going to the house found it 
 closed. It was a nice, two-story house. We felt disap- 
 pointed and turned away, when a man who kept a grocery 
 near by, and was closing his windows, said to us, " are 
 you looking for Mr. ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Well, he is not there. Step in here to my shop, and 
 I will tell you." He told us that his neighbor, who was 
 one of the kindest of men, had just lost every cent for har- 
 boring a fugitive. " That house," said he, " he earned by 
 his own hard labor, and it seems a sin and shame, to have 
 it taken from him by a wicked law, for the sake of those 
 who never earned a cent, and never will. Don't be afraid 
 of me," he added, as we looked at one another, " I am his 
 wife's brother ; Sally and her four pretty children, are at 
 my house ; he, poor man, is in prison. I am poor, but if 
 I part with my last cent, they shall not lack anything. 
 You see we are all slaves in one sense, for what is Liber-
 
 178 
 
 ty, if we may not serve God according to our own con- 
 science, by doing good. I can give you some crackers 
 and cheese, and can take my wagon and carry you a piece, 
 and ihat is all I am able to do." 
 
 This he did, and we were glad of his assistance. Noth- 
 ing more of any importance bcfcl us. We reached Phila- 
 delphia, and the house of our friends in safety. We kept 
 very close, waiting for the arrival of our comrades, before 
 we should push on farther. We were troubled to hear 
 that Jonas and his daughter had not arrived, as they had 
 agreed to come hither, if Jonas was released. This, and 
 our concern for Cornelia and Jasmyn, affected the joy we 
 felt in being with these Christian friends ; Christians not 
 ID name only, but in deed and in truth.
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 The narrator resumes the story. 
 
 It was drawing near the close of day, and evening sat 
 on her gorgeous western throne. One fair star had arisen, 
 and the new moon's amber crescent was seen in the clear 
 sky. The closing harmonies of day arose from the woods, 
 and mingling with the murmur of waters, and the play of 
 the wind among the trees, refreshed and touched the soul. 
 A young horseman was riding over a mountainous road at 
 this time. As the road swept along the green uplands, a 
 country-inn appeared in sight, its ancient sign swinging 
 from the branches of an old oak, and gilded by the setting 
 sun. Alh the old windows of the antiquated house were, 
 in poet's phrase, " burnished by the setting sun." Here 
 our traveler reined up, and alighting from his horse, walk- 
 ed up to the door, to inquire if he could be lodged for the 
 night. He knocked, and the landlady opened the door, 
 and presented herself, one of these portly, good-humored 
 characters, with a face full of business, and given to gossip. 
 
 "Can I lodge here to-night, madam ? " was the inquiry. 
 
 " Oh ! yes sir, walk in, this is the parlor, sir, we will 
 soon have your room ready ; any supper, sir ? " 
 
 " Yes, madam." 
 
 " What will you please to have ? " 
 
 " It matters little," said the stranger, " any thing you 
 please. Have you any guests, madam ? "
 
 180 
 
 " Not many just now, only a sick Quaker gentleman, 
 and his daughter, and another Quaker woman who came 
 with them." 
 
 A flush came across the heek of the stranger. " Is the 
 old gentleman very sick ? " 
 
 " Oh ! yes, sir ; the Doctor says he cannot live. I'm 
 looking for his daughter to be sick too, for -she waits upon 
 him, and watches over him, day and night, poor, young 
 thing. I think she is about the most beautifulest young 
 woman I ever saw. I didn't make out anything about 
 them ; they are very still-mouthed folks, but I am quite 
 the reverse, sir, I can assure you ; all is right up and down, 
 with me ; all above board." 
 
 " Have you a pen and ink, madam ? I should like to 
 have writing materials, directly.." 
 
 " I'll send Jim right up with them sir, and when will you 
 have supper ? " 
 
 " In an hour or two hence." 
 
 The landlady then left the room, determined to find out 
 all about this new comer. She went to the kitchen, and 
 dispatching Jim with the writing materials, thus addressed 
 her helpmate, a tall, raw-boned man, rather sparing of 
 speech, a complete contrast to his wife 
 
 " There's a traveler stopped, Mr. Jobson." 
 
 " What of that, Betsey, we must take care of him, that's 
 the whole of it" 
 
 " Why, Mr. Jobson, he is one of the handsomest young 
 men I ever saw, and if I was to guess ," 
 
 " What is the use of guessing anything about it, Mrs. 
 Jobson, don't I tell you all you have to do is to give him a 
 clean bed, and the sort of supper he likes."
 
 181 
 
 " Dear me, husband, that is always the way you go on, 
 but you may depend upon it, this young man is none of 
 your common sort, but if I was to guess " 
 
 " Have not I requested that you should not guess at all," 
 said Mr Jobson, thrusting his hands into his pocket, (which 
 is a gesture significant of domestic authority.) Many a 
 loaf of bread has been burnt in that oven, Mrs. Jobson, 
 while you have been guessing out about people ; you have 
 nothing to do with, but to give them good board and lodg- 
 ing." 
 
 " Well, you are the strangest man, Mr. Jobson, no more 
 interest, but here comes Jim, with a note, that gentleman 
 has been writing. Now, Jim," said she, pushing down 
 her spectacles, " let me just look at that note. Husband, 
 you may say what you will, that young man is as grand a 
 gentleman." 
 
 " What if he is, what is that to us ! " exclaimed Mr. Job- 
 son." 
 
 " Do see what a beautiful hand writing. Why, if it is'nt 
 directed to the old gentleman, up stairs ! " 
 
 " Is this any of your concern ? Betsey, why do you de- 
 lay the letter; Jim, take the note directly to the person it 
 is addressed to." 
 
 " I'll take it up myself," said the landlady, wiping the 
 corners of her mouth with her chex apron. " I'll know the 
 up-shot of this." 
 
 She went up stairs, and rapped at the door of the sick 
 man's room. A young girl, in a loose wrapping gown, 
 opened the door, received the note, and thanked the bearer. 
 It was no offence to our landlady's ideas of morality or 
 honor to listen, on particular occasions. She put her ear 
 16
 
 close to the key hole, and partially heard Airnee read to 
 her father, in a low tone, these words: 1 have sought you, 
 my respected friend, not only for the interest I have in you, 
 but because I wish to learn if Marian has yet received her 
 manumission papers. I should be too happy to find myself 
 under the same roof with you, if I had not learned that you 
 were ill. Alas, this is one of the great evils of slavery ; it 
 unavoidably arrays against us the noblest hearts, and often, 
 as at this time, causes ruin and suffering to the most gener- 
 ous of men. Can you forgive one who has, though indi- 
 rectly, occasioned such distress ? I owe you more than life. 
 Will you generously accept that aid, I should esteem it the 
 highest favor to give ? It is my earnest wish, and would but 
 begin the reparation I owe to God, to you, and my fellow- 
 men. If you are not too weak to allow me an interview, 
 it would be a great relief to an oppressed and penitent heart, 
 to hear you say, I forgive you. Very truly yours, 
 
 ARTHUR ST. VALLERY. 
 
 This letter seemed to give much satisfaction to those 
 within the chamber ; but Mrs. Jobson did not wait to hear 
 any more, but hastened down stairs to her husband. 
 
 " There," said she, sitting down beside him, " you never 
 want to know nothing, Mr. Jobson, and you never will ; I've 
 got the whole clue to that young man's business, besides 
 some light upon them Quakers." 
 
 " What is that to you, Mrs. Jobson ? Have you any 
 right to have any light on those people, or any clue to that 
 young man's business ? Have I not told you every day, as 
 many hours as there is in the day, that you have no more
 
 to do with the family affairs of folks as comes here for 
 board and lodging, than our hostler has to know all about 
 the horses he puts up ? He stables them, and feeds them, 
 that is all his concern ; and all yours, is to lodge and board 
 your customers." 
 
 " I would not compare folks with brute beasts, husband, 
 but I know one thing, that gentleman did not come here 
 for nothing, to-night," said the landlady, taking a pinch of 
 snuff. 
 
 " I suppose he did not," said Mr. Jobson, drily ; " but 
 he will get nothing, without you stop talking, and stir round 
 and get his supper." 
 
 " Ah," says she, " he cares little what he eats, from 
 what I can find." 
 
 " What right have you to find any thing, but board and 
 lodging ? " 
 
 " I will tell you this much," said Mrs. Jobson, " "'tis a 
 love affair ; them Quakers is so awful set, and it seems he 
 owes the old man a power of money, but he cannot break 
 up the match, that's my opinion," said she, closing with 
 another great pinch of snuff. 
 
 " What right have you to have any opinion about them, 
 except whether they can foot their bills or not, that's your 
 sphere, Mrs. Jobson." 
 
 " I'll never tell you any thing more," said Mrs. Jobson, 
 " for you are the most disinterested person I ever saw, ex- 
 cept about your own petty affairs." 
 
 With these words, the busy landlady put up her snuff 
 box,^uid went her way. 
 
 As our friend Arthur sat at supper, a note was handed
 
 184 
 
 him. It was a beautiful, fair, free flowing hand, and ran 
 thus: 
 
 " My father returns many thanks to our friend, and 
 will be glad to see him this evening." 
 
 AIMEE FREEMAN.
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 The narrator goes on with the history 
 
 The large, antiquated room in which the sick man lay, 
 was a beautiful place for a Christian believer to pass from 
 to his eternal rest. It overlooked a wide, delicious valley. 
 The crystal streams from the mountains, the fertile fields 
 and the fair farms looked all delightful repcse and beauty. 
 The early moon, the many quiet stars, seemed watching 
 to see the declining hours of a faithful martyr. Jonas had 
 taken the jail fever, and it had left him very weak. The 
 soft light of a shaded lamp, showed the celestial calm of 
 his countenance. Aimee sat by his side fanning him, and 
 tenderly conversing with him, when Arthur rapped at the 
 door. Dorcas Hart opened it, and gave him her hand 
 kindly. 
 
 " I am glad to see thee, friend Arthur," said Jonas, "I 
 have much to say to thee, and many thanks to give thee. 
 My dearest Aimee tells me I may recover, but there is 
 that within me tells me the time has come, for me to be 
 gathered. Do not weep, Aimee, thou must pray for wil- 
 ingness that his will may be done." 
 
 " Oh ! my friend." said Arthur, " can you forgive rne." 
 
 " I have little to forgive thee," said Jonas, " thou hast 
 not been the direct cause of this, but thy poor slaves, now 
 under Ihe lash, on thy vast estates, they have much to for- 
 give thee ; and thy God, whom thou hast not feared, he 
 has much to forgive thee. Oh ! my young friend, thou 
 
 weepest, and I would not grieve thee, except to waken 
 16*
 
 186 
 
 thee to repentance unto life. Thou hast not yet submit- 
 ted unto God." Much more Jonas said, great power be- 
 ing given him to bear a faithful testimony. 
 
 The soul of the young man was convulsed ; at length 
 he sunk upon his knees, and prayed. 
 
 " Oh ! merciful Redemer, whose sufferings I have so 
 long abused, may a heavy laden sinner come to thee. 
 Give me strength to unbind the heavy burdens, to break 
 every yoke, and to let the oppressed go free. Here, in 
 the presence of thy children, I do solemnly promise thee to 
 unbind the heavy burdens, and to let the oppressed go 
 free. Here, 1 solemnly promise to free all my slaves ; oh ! 
 that I could free every slave under the canopy of thy Hea- 
 ven. And, oh ! my Father, help me, and accept me, for 
 the sake of him who has freed my captive soul. Amen."' 
 Jonas, much moved, placed his hands upon his head, 
 and gave him his blessing, in the beautiful scripture form, 
 beginning " the Lord bless thee, and keep thee." 
 
 Arthur then had some conversation with them, in re- 
 lation to his arrangements, and then retired, for his heart 
 was too full that night, for any company but that of his 
 own thoughts, and his newly found Heavenly Father. 
 Aimee sat in weeping silence all the evening. 
 
 This scene, so pleasing in itself, had been too much for 
 her father's exhausted frame. Soon after Arthur retired, 
 she perceived a change for the worse, in her dear father. 
 She called Dorcas and Mrs. Jobson, who although she was 
 an inveterate gossip, and of a light temper, had a kindly 
 heart, and at times, serious feelings. They sat up that 
 night. When the next morning's sun shone on that quiet 
 valley, its beams fell upon the face of him, who through
 
 187 
 
 grace, had been faithful unto death. He slept in Jesus, 
 his locks parted on that venerable brow, and a smile of 
 triumph that told of an opening heaven, lingering on his 
 lips. Aimee sat by his side, no longer convulsed with 
 
 grief, but as if her spirit shared her Father's victory. 
 
 ******* 
 
 It had been arranged in the evening's conversation, that 
 St. Vallery should write to Philadelphia, announcing to the 
 friends there, that he was coming, and for what object ; 
 but ere mailing his letter, he had to report the death of Jo- 
 nas, and that probably Dorcas and Aimee would accom- 
 pany him after the funeral. It was the wish of Jonas to 
 be buried in that quiet valley, near which he had so bless- 
 edly resigned his breath. That duty done, Arthur attend- 
 ed Dorcas and Aimee to Philadelphia. On reaching the 
 house, they found Cornelia and Gilbert, Marian and Jas- 
 myn, ready to receive them. What a meeting was this. 
 
 " 1 have come to give you freedom," said St. Vallery, 
 " and not only to you, but I mean to free every slave who 
 calls me master." 
 
 Thanks and blessings were showered upon him ; the re- 
 cent death of Jonas mellowed, but did not disturb the hap- 
 piness, for was he not happy too, was he not with them. 
 Gilbert and Cornelia had been married soon after their 
 arrival in Philadelphia, expecting at the time to leave for 
 Canada. It was late in the evening before the happy par- 
 ty seperated. St. Vallery went to a hotel in the neighbor- 
 hood. He said to Aimee, as he left her, " to-morrow I 
 must leave for my great work. In the morning he re- 
 turned to his new friends. Jasmyn and Marian, Gilbert 
 and Cornelia were present to receive him. He generous-
 
 188 
 
 ly gave to each of the young couple money sufficient to 
 buy and stock a farm, for, said he, "I do not mean to make 
 you free, and leave you poor." 
 
 The kind Friends were very glad to see him again, but 
 he missed Aimee from the circle. One of the daughters 
 reading his look, said to him, " she whom thou missest is 
 in the garden." He rose and sought her there. She was 
 sitting in the door-way of a summer-house. She had gone 
 there to indulge her own sad thoughts, for she could not 
 but deeply mourn such a father. She looked pensive and 
 thoughtful. Arthur came and stood beside her. 
 
 ' You look sad, Aimee," said he. 
 
 " I ought to be happy," said she, " in seeing our friends 
 so happy as thy goodness has made them, and yet I can- 
 not be happy. Since my father's death, I have such a 
 void, I so miss his tenderness and love." 
 
 " Is there no one," said St. Vallery, " that might fill 
 that void in thy heart. Oh, Aimee, hear me, hear me ! 
 from the first time I heard thy voice, my soul was thine, 
 though I knew it not. Pride, the pride of this world was 
 strong against my loving Christ, or loving thee, but the 
 scene in the prison, thy father's behavior on his trial, and 
 thine own, sweet Aimee, that happy death bed, that sol- 
 emn warning given me from the lips of dying faith, all 
 melted down my stubborn heart. There was no pride 
 then in the way, and 1 felt that thou wert most dearly be- 
 loved. Is there no answer in thy heart for me, Aimee ? 1 
 have sometimes felt that there was." 
 
 There was no answer, but Aimee's tears ; what need of 
 words ? Oh, blessed tears, in which two young hearts
 
 189 
 
 were baptized into an undying love ! how ye gushed from 
 their eyes, as every restraint gave way. 
 
 " I had purposed," said Arthur, " not to speak of my 
 love for thee, till my work was done, but when I saw thy 
 sadness, and heard thee speak of thy loneliness, how couid 
 I refrain ? 
 
 ****** * 
 
 Gilbert and Jasmyn purchased two farms in the near 
 neighborhood, and Jasmyn soon welcomed his grandmoth- 
 er to his new abode. Airnee, as soon as they were settled, 
 went to visit them. While there, she received the follow- 
 ing letter from Arthur: 
 
 " All is done, my Aimee ; I have moved promptly, but 
 cautiously. I have purchased Gilbert's freedom ; and 
 now, Aimee, in a short time we shall meet again. Your 
 father's prophecy is accomplished. I am in a Paradise of 
 joy and acceptance. I am many times a freeman, for 
 every slave I have enlarged, has enlarged the liberty of my 
 soul. Around thy dear image, hopes gather, 'bright, bright 
 
 as the morning.' " ARTHUR. 
 
 #****** 
 
 The sun had departed, but that long loving, lingering 
 glow had succeeded, which twilight wears in the islands 
 of the blest. In the verandah of a beautiful dwelling, was a 
 newly wedded, youthful pair. Sweet were the gales of 
 balm from the groves of the orange, but more grateful to 
 that gentle pair, was the sight of the cheerful cottages of 
 the free laborer, that gladdened the scene. Deep was the 
 gratitude of that youthful pair, to the God who made them 
 one. It was Arthur and Aimee St. Vallery. They were 
 not alone, ^t a little distance, were Marian and Jasmyn,
 
 190 
 
 strolling through the walks. But while they were all en- 
 joying an evening so lovely that Heaven seemed to draw 
 near to earth, there came a voice down through that soft, 
 calm air, 
 
 Twice, thrice through the Furnace past, 
 
 Happy and free, and saved at last.