University of California Berkeley 
 

 
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BOND m FKEE; 
 
 A TRUE TALE OF SLAVE TIMES. 
 
 BY 
 
 JAS. H. W. HOWARD, 
 
 Late Editor of the State Journal. 
 
 HA.RRISBUKG: 
 
 EDWIN K. MEYERS, PBINTEB AND BINDEB. 
 
 1886. 
 
Copyrighted by 
 JAS. H. W. HOWARD, 
 
 Electrotyped by EDWIN K. MEYERS. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 I. THE MAXWELL FAMILY, 5 
 
 II. ANOTHER FAMILY, 15 
 
 III. THE BARGAIN, 28 
 
 IV. THE WEDDING, 47 
 
 V. A BAD START, 52 
 
 VI. THE ESCAPE, 61 
 
 VII. ATTACKED, ' . 73 
 
 VIII. Two HAPPY FATHERS, 84 
 
 IX. A NOVEL STAKE, 95 
 
 X. THE WIFE'S EETURN, ....... 104 
 
 XL THE SEPARATION, ..Ill 
 
 XII. ANOTHER CLASS OF SLAVES, . . . .124 
 
 XIII. THE FUGITIVES, 134 
 
 XIV. PUPIL AND TEACHER, 146 
 
 XV. THE JUDGE'S SISTER, 171 
 
 XVI. A MOTHER'S SACRIFICE, 200 
 
 XVII. THE TEACHER AND PUPIL CROSS THE 
 
 LINE, 221 
 
 XVIII. WILLIAM'S STRIKE FOR FREEDOM, . . 240 
 XIX. UNITED IN FREEDOM, 265 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 In presenting this, my first book, to the public, I 
 crave indulgence for whatever errors it may contain. 
 The incidents related are true, while the adventures 
 of the fugitives, in their escape from slavery, are ac- 
 tual facts related by persons well known to me, some 
 of them closely related, and for whose veracity I can 
 safely vouch. Many of the events of this tale will 
 recall to the minds of not a few some of their own 
 experiences, or the experience of relatives or friends 
 as often rehearsed to them. I have no desire to cre- 
 ate or revive any animosity on the part of those who 
 have survived the cruelties of slavery, but as one of 
 that race, now struggling for a position in the Nation 
 which once refused to recognize their manhood, I 
 trust I shall not be harshly censured for depicting a 
 few of the milder forms of treatment to which the 
 negro was subjected while enslaved. 
 
 In commenting upon the cruelties of slavery, I 
 have endeavored to suppress all rancorous feeling 
 which would naturally arise in the bosom of one so 
 closely identified with the race, remembering that this 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 book is for the reading public, and not intended to 
 offend any one. Should I, therefore, at any time, ap- 
 pear hypercritical, attribute it to the over-powering 
 sympathy which might possibly have guided my pen. 
 Hoping that you may be amply compensated for 
 the moments spent in perusing these lines, 
 
 I remain, yours gratefully, 
 
 The AUTHOR. 
 
BOND AND FREE 
 
 A TRUE TALE OF SLAVE DAYS. 
 CHAPTER L 
 
 4 
 
 THE MAXWELL FAMILY. 
 
 Harwood Maxwell was one of that class of men 
 common in his day, but perhaps differing, in many 
 essential particulars, from his surrounding neigh- 
 bors. There was not a better known man in 
 
 county , Virginia, than Harwood Maxwell. 
 
 To say that he was eccentric, would, perhaps, be tak 
 ing too great a liberty with the acquaintance I had with 
 him ; but to say he was not peculiar, would not give 
 an accurate or truthful description of him. His 
 peculiarities, however, were not of a disagreeable 
 nature, but were those of a man who saw fit to differ 
 in many respects from a long line of antecedents. 
 Harwood Maxwell was a true Virginian in every 
 sense of the word ; his grandfather was among its 
 earliest settlers, and was one of those who infused 
 much of the spirit of independence into the colonies, 
 and battled so strongly against the iron rule of 
 his mother-country. Notwithstanding the princi- 
 ples of his forefathers, Harwood Maxwell soon 
 became distinguished for his favoritism to King 
 
 [5] 
 
6 BOND AND FREE 
 
 George. Nor did the fact of his settlement in this, 
 one among the first colonies to oppose the tyrannical 
 rule of His Majesty, and to sever all allegiance to the 
 crown, interfere in the least with his love for his 
 sovereign. 
 
 This colony is dear to the American heart because 
 of having rendered so invaluable a service in the cause 
 of American Independence, through its illustrious 
 son. When I assert that Harwood Maxwell was a true 
 Virginian, perhaps I ought to make an exception upon 
 this one point, but having already said that he was 
 peculiar, let his peculiarities answer for any apparent 
 inconsistencies his nature may have betrayed. The 
 name of Maxwell was an old one, and great pride was 
 taken in this fact. Harwood's father had possessed 
 a large estate, which had been transmitted to his son, 
 not without some incumbrance nor with as many 
 acres as when it came into the father's possession, for 
 as generation followed generation, so followed a de- 
 crease in the vast acres. This, of course, primarily 
 depreciated the value of the estate as it was handed 
 from father to son. The sons evidently were not as 
 successful in their management as were their fathers ; 
 nevertheless, the estate still abounded in good stock, 
 consisting of men, women, and other beasts of burden ; 
 and the acres that were left were fertile and well 
 cultivated. Mr. Maxwell was married several years 
 before he had an heir. Fortune at last favored him 
 with a son on whom he lavished all the attention 
 a kind, indulgent, and wealthy father could lavish 
 
THE MAXWELL FAMILY. 7 
 
 upon his only offspring. His son, Jonathan, grew 
 to be a bright, intelligent man, such a man as a father 
 could feel justly proud of, such a son as Ear wood 
 Maxwell wished for, hoped for, and prayed for. 
 
 At last, the impartial sickle of death came along and 
 relentlessly removed Harwood Maxwell from this 
 mundane sphere, and Jonathan became sole possessor 
 of all the Maxwell estate, including men, women, and 
 all other goods and chattels. Jonathan was a man, 
 in many respects, similar to his father ; he had been 
 fondly indulged, always having numerous servants to 
 attend his every wish, and as he sat and reflected upon 
 what he must do in the future, his fine, handsome 
 face was lighted up with a smile of satisfaction, for 
 he realized that he had under his entire control 
 hundreds of acres of richly cultivated soil, a great 
 number of human beings, whose sweat and labor, as 
 well as their blood, had been the means of enriching 
 the very soil which he now possessed. He was im- 
 bued with all of those ideas characteristic of the true 
 Southern gentlemen, whose education taught them 
 that labor was degrading, and who did not believe 
 in that part of his country's law which declared " all 
 men were born free and equal." He had married 
 into one of those aristocratic Southern families more 
 noted for their family respectability than their wealth, 
 and who, being the possessors of a small estate with 
 only a few human beings as subjects, made life a 
 veritable hell for those few, and extracted from them 
 all the labor they were capable of performing. A 
 
8 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 man reared as Jonathan Maxwell, being the worthy 
 son of a sire noted for his peculiarities, while he pos- 
 sessed some of the same traits of his father, was 
 strong in his own individuality. He had reached an 
 age when liberty of thought took a wide range with 
 him, and the points in his character were clearly 
 displayed. He believed that all men had distinctive 
 relations; that inordinate principles decreed that white 
 was born to rule and black to be ruled. He believed 
 that his betters were unborn and his equals were few. 
 ^Having been over-indulged, he was, of course, greatly 
 spoiled. So assertive was he in his views that he 
 almost denied himself that contact with the world, 
 which draws men out. He was almost absolutely 
 wrapped up in himself, being entirely unanimous 
 upon the infallibility of his own conceptions. He 
 hated the world because concession was not generally 
 given to his haughty ideas, and because he realized 
 his inability to flog the world into agreement ; he 
 never hesitated to crack the whip of authority over 
 the heads and upon the backs of those around him. 
 His society was much sought for because it was ex- 
 clusive, and it afforded him great pleasure when he 
 beheld his fellow-man writhing in the throes of dis- 
 tress. Some people said that he was a cruel master; 
 others said that he was very exacting, but not cruel. 
 His wife was one of those handsome Southern beau- 
 ties, indolent to a fault, and whose ideas regarding our 
 unfortunate race were strictly in accord with those of 
 her husband, and yet, if anything, far worse. Jona- 
 
THE MAXWELL FAMILY. 9 
 
 than had one thing in his nature that none of the 
 long line of Maxwells was ever known to possess; 
 that was an inordinate desire to increase his posses- 
 sions. He was a man with few scruples, consequently, 
 nothing stood in the way of his acquiring more wealth. 
 His plantations were all in good condition, his human 
 cattle fat and sleek. The latter, though worked hard, 
 were well quartered and well fed. This, of course, 
 made them prolific, and, in fact, many of them were 
 kept upon the estate on account of their breeding- 
 qualities. 
 
 Things worked along upon the Maxwell estate 
 with an evenness never before known; but the 
 master became more and more exacting, and the 
 poor subjects more and more depressed. The field 
 hands, of course, felt none of this hard grinding, be- 
 cause their lot was unchanged. Bill Lewis, the over- 
 seer, still held his position under his new master, and, 
 as he was evidently a reader of human nature, as- 
 sisted, no doubt, by his long service with the Max- 
 wells, he knew that no matter how hard he drove nor 
 how severely he whipped, his employer would be 
 satisfied, so long as good returns were the result. Over 
 the house servants Lewis had no control, but he had 
 often compelled many of them to submit to his hellish 
 and brutish designs, and the features of several pick- 
 ininnies about the plantation bore a striking resem- 
 blance to his low, ill-bred countenance. 
 
 Among Jonathan Maxwell's house servants was a 
 woman who, had she not have had the traces of Afri- 
 
10 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 can blood in her veins, and had she been reared with 
 half the care with which Mrs. Maxwell, her mistress, 
 I had, would have been an ornament to any society, and 
 '. put to blush many so-called Southern beauties. She 
 was a woman about two or three and twenty years of 
 age, beautiful in form, her features were as delicate and 
 chaste as a lady bred in luxury and refinement; her 
 long black tresses were of silken glossiness ; her car- 
 riage and bearing were characterized by both dignity 
 and grace. This woman, possessed of all the attractive- 
 ness which nature could bestow, was what? No 
 more than a mere thing, apiece of goods, a mere chattel, 
 with a price upon her head, a commodity that could 
 be bought or sold, with no protection for her virtue, 
 and whose beauty only made her the more valuable 
 in the eyes of some brute whose lust urged him to bid 
 a higher price for her possession. This woman by na- 
 ture, whatever else by law, bore a marked resemblance 
 to Jonathan Maxwell. He knew it ; his wife did not 
 fail to notice it, and Purcey, for such was the name 
 she bore, also recognized the likeness herself. She 
 not only resembled her young master in countenance, 
 but there were many things about her which showed 
 unmistakable evidence of Maxwell blood, Maxwell 
 pride, and Maxwell cleverness. 
 
 Before the death of Harwood Maxwell, Purcey had 
 enjoyed many liberties denied the other servants. She 
 was petted, cajoled, well dressed, even richly so at 
 times, and, except addressing her master as ^'massa" 
 and her mistress as " missa," she hardly realized her ig- 
 
THE MAXWELL FAMILY. 11 
 
 nominious position. By some means, she had hoarded 
 up quite a little sum of money, and had been shrewd 
 enough to pick up a smattering of learning from hear- 
 ing Jonathan going over his lessons with his tutor. She 
 increased her little savings of money, and improved 
 her learning, all of which she concealed from every one. 
 Purcey's mother was, and had been for years, the cook 
 of the Maxwell family. She was a woman with traces 
 of Indian blood in her veins, but how she became a 
 slave, history does not record. History does record, 
 however, how Harwood Maxwell bought a very beau- 
 tiful negress at a sale while on a trip to the New 
 Orleans slave market, brought her home to his inva- 
 lid wife, and how, in a short time, this beautiful slave 
 woman gave birth to a child which was more beauti- 
 ful than the mother. Owing to its fair complexion 
 and its close resemblance to Mars Harwood, there 
 was no room to doubt nor was it difficult to trace the 
 father. There was an unusual amount of human 
 feeling evinced by Harwood Maxwell for this woman 
 and child. He was unlike thousands of his kind, who 
 ill-treated and sold their flesh and blood a sin he 
 did not have to answer for. He neither abused, nor 
 allowed to be abused, the mother or the daughter. 
 This is why Purcey grew up into womanhood with 
 all of the spirit of one born a free being. 
 
 Whenever Jonathan's mother, for years an invalid, 
 demanded her husband to sell or dispose in some way of 
 this child and its mother, an eye-sore to her, she was met 
 with such a response from him as invariably brought 
 
12 BOND AND FKEE. 
 
 on convulsions, "her request never being complied 
 with. 
 
 Before her death, she called her son to her bed- 
 side and taught him to hate Elva and her daughter, 
 Purcey, without revealing to him his father's perfidy. 
 Jonathan had not forgotten his mother's death- bed 
 instructions, though he had given her no intimation 
 that he would follow them. In fact, while he could 
 consistently hate his half-sister, nothing could in- 
 duce him to dispose of his property, except the pros- 
 pect of pecuniary gain. Elva was also the mother 
 of four other children, two boys and two girls. They 
 were of a type entirely different from Purcey, their 
 father being a full-blooded Negro. Consequently, 
 their features bore all the marks of the race. Elo, 
 whom I will hereafter describe, was the youngest of 
 the four. Emeline was of a brown-skin hue, with 
 thick lips, stubborn hair, and very coarse features. 
 The boys were both sturdy, manly fellows, each 
 worth fifteen hundred dollars to his master. With 
 that feeling born of slavery, Emeline cordially hated 
 Purcey ; first, because, as she termed it, " she was half 
 white and stuck up ; " second, because of the natural 
 animosity borne by all field hands toward all house 
 servants. Jonathan Maxwell did not want to sell 
 Purcey, as she was his wife's maid, and that lady, 
 with that attachment a mistress has for a pet dog, or 
 bird, did not want her removed. Purcey's beauty 
 never made her foolish. She had a natural pride, 
 but never forgot her duty to her mistress. Ever 
 
THE MAXWELL FAMILY. 13 
 
 ready and willing to obey the slightest command, yet 
 her sensitive nature secretly resisted imposition. Mrs. 
 Maxwell had exceedingly aggravating ways, and, on 
 one occasion, her overbearing manner incurred open 
 resentment from Purcey, which that lady never forgot. 
 
 Mrs. Maxwell had, in this instance, upon going out 
 for a ride, directed Purcey to perform some duties in 
 her absence. Upon her return, being much fatigued 
 with her exercise, she seated herself in an easy chair. 
 Looking about the room, she discovered that the work 
 left for Purcey had not been properly attended to. 
 Immediately there was a display of passion, and she 
 directed her husband to ring the maid's bell. Purcey 
 was somewhat slow in obeying the summons, as she 
 was dressing to go riding herself, a privilege she had 
 always enjoyed. When she entered the room, her 
 mistress was almost struck dumb by her appearance. 
 She was robed in a purple silk riding-habit; her rid- 
 ing hat sat jauntily upon her shapely head ; while at 
 her well formed throat was fastened a bunch of violets, 
 which made a happy contrast with her beautiful face ; 
 her petite feet were encased in the daintiest of boots^ 
 and could just be seen as they peeped out beneath 
 the bottom of her skirts. Mrs. Maxwell flew into a 
 rage, sprang from her chair, and raised her riding 
 whip, which she still held in her hand, and exclaimed : 
 
 " How dare you, you wench, enter my presence in 
 this manner?" 
 
 Purcey drew herself up proudly, and said : " Missa, 
 don't strike me with that whip, or I'll die for you." 
 
14 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 Mrs. Maxwell was a handsome woman, and she 
 had no cause to fear any rival, but where on earth 
 did one woman who was handsome, and knew it, 
 ever meet another handsomer than herself that the 
 seeds of jealousy did not take root ? There was a 
 wfde chasm between Mrs. Maxwell and her servant, 
 but Purcey appearing in such a costume at such a 
 time, was really exasperating and outrageous to her 
 bias views of the duty of an underling, and she had 
 determined to stop it at once. But meeting so defi- 
 ant an air from her intended victim, she wisely con 
 eluded, though still angry, to adopt a less summary 
 mode of punishment. Her hand fell to her side, and, 
 dropping into her easy chair, she said, imperatively : 
 "Disrobe me." Purcey immediately obeyed with that 
 submissiveness characteristic of her race. Mrs. Max- 
 well never again attempted to administer corporal 
 punishment to her. 
 
CHAPTEE II. 
 
 ANOTHER FAMILY. 
 
 The adjoining plantation to Jonathan Maxwell's 
 belonged to Abraham Biggers, Mr. Biggers was a 
 characteristic Southerner, the owner of a plantation 
 of over five hundred acres, upon which he had fifty 
 or a hundred human beings, besides other stock. 
 The latter received better treatment and better care 
 than the former. Among this goodly number of Mr. 
 Biggers' goods and chattels, was a family of McCul- 
 lars, consisting of father, mother, and a prolific off- 
 spring of some twenty odd children. John McCul- 
 lar was a man about sixty years of age, and was 
 a freeman, while his wife was the alleged property 
 of Mr. Biggers, as were all of the children who 
 bore the name of McCullar. For in those halcyon 
 days of traffic in human stock, if the husband and 
 father was born a freeman, bought his freedom, or was 
 set free, by marrying a woman in bondage, all of his 
 offspring became the property of the woman's master. 
 
 It will at once be seen that, as John McCullar 
 was a freeman, and could not be bought, to secure 
 one of his boys upon a plantation and marry him to 
 a healthy woman, or turn him loose if of a licentious 
 nature would be a profitable investment for any man 
 possessing such ideas as those possessed by Jonathan 
 
 (15) 
 
16 BOXD AND FREE. 
 
 Maxwell. A marriage between one of Biggers' 
 boys of the McCullar breed to Purcey would be to 
 him a continual source of profit. Well may it be 
 said that the ways of Providence are beyond under- 
 standing. Here was a man who had no master, who 
 was what was called a free man, yet deprived of the 
 full enjoyment of all the privileges belonging to 
 other freemen because his skin was black. This man, 
 in his ignorance, connects himself to a woman in 
 bondage, and adds fuel to the already burning flame 
 of slavery. Poor, deluded creature ! What did he 
 know of the wrong he was doing his race? What 
 did he know of the untold suffering which awaited 
 every child of which he was the father ? And this 
 was only a single instance of how this blot upon a 
 nation's honor was fed, was kept alive, and prospered. 
 Better had John McCullar died in embryo than to 
 have been born, to be the means of bringing into the 
 world so many human beings to become the common 
 property of a soulless huckster in humanity. 
 
 Among the McCullar boys was William, a fellow of 
 good address, who could follow a cradle in a harvest 
 field from sunrise until sunset, walk five miles to a 
 neighboring plantation, dance all night, and hold his 
 own the following day without a crack from the over- 
 seer's whip. He had frequently been hired by Jonathan 
 Maxwell from his master, and had attracted the at- 
 tention of everybody about the place by his steadi- 
 ness and his pride. William had considerable pride 
 for a slave , he was entirely oblivious of his own 
 
ANOTHER FAMILY. 17 
 
 situation, but appeared fully to realize that the most 
 despicable thing to come in contact with was a black 
 man. He was not white himself, being of a dark- 
 brown complexion, with lips slightly inclined to thick- 
 ness, a high intelligent forehead, and with a speech 
 quite free from the " dis " and " dat " of the plan- 
 tation hands. A distinguishable feature about Wil- 
 liam was the use of words of which he seldom knew 
 the meaning, but, by some unaccountable manner, 
 succeeded in getting them in the proper place. The 
 fact of his using language in advance of himself 
 made him the beau ideal of all the females for miles 
 around. This superior recognition led him to look 
 with contempt upon his fellow male-associates. 
 
 Now there were plenty of female servants upon Mr. 
 Biggers' plantation, healthy, buxom women, and of a 
 varied assortment of complexions, from the whiteness 
 of an Anglo-Saxon to the deepest black ; but there is 
 an open secret which existed in the accursed days of 
 slavery, and which exists among the race to-day. 
 That secret is, that a real black man is generally ex- 
 tremely partial to very light women. William was 
 no exception to this rule, as will be readily perceived, 
 and when at one of those regular plantation midnight 
 gatherings, where an old uncle sat up in the corner 
 of the room with his legs crossed, a banjo resting 
 upon his knee, head thrown back, keeping time with 
 his foot, and calling figures to the time of the music, 
 music which seemed to inspire every living thing, 
 music unwritten and unsung, music which to those 
 
18 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 untutored minds was as sweet as the music of a 
 Strauss or a Verdi to the most cultivated, every- 
 body was dancing, feet were shuffling in regular order, 
 the ladies moving with all the imaginable grace they 
 could assume, while the gents were as gallant as the 
 most attentive chevalier, he noticed among the throng 
 of amusement seekers a beautiful, sylph-like form, 
 whose grace of motion, lovely countenance, and evi- 
 dent superiority over her more unfortunate sisters 
 completely captivated him. 
 
 Her every movement was closely watched by him, 
 and there were few of his associates who did not per- 
 ceive a radical change in his manner. He did not 
 enter into the enjoyment of the dance with the same 
 zest as on other occasions. In fact, William's mind 
 was wholly engrossed with this unknown beauty. It 
 was known that he was of a taciturn disposition, and 
 the fact of his not entering fully into the enjoyments 
 of the evening did not attract the attention of those 
 present so much as his actions, whenever this par- 
 ticular female came near him. He. would gaze after 
 her intently and longingly. He seemed to have no 
 words for anybody, but glutted and feasted his eyes 
 upon the beautiful form of the woman who moved 
 so gracefully from place to place. 
 
 Those unfamiliar with slavery, and unaccus- 
 tomed to seeing men ' and women so fair in their 
 complexions as to raise doubts whether they were 
 white or black, would have thought the woman who 
 so attracted William's attention was out of her ele- 
 
ANOTHER FAMILY. 19 
 
 ment, it being a difficult matter to discover evidences 
 of negro blood in her. William could no longer re- 
 strain his admiration, and prevailed upon a friend for 
 an introduction. He was presented to her, and met 
 for the first time the woman who afterwards became 
 his wife. William's brilliant conversational powers 
 and gentlemanly deportment favorably impressed 
 Purcey. 
 
 There are various kinds of dancing indulged 
 in by persons who enjoy that amusing pastime, but 
 for original, amusing, and active dancing one should 
 see a select gathering of negro house-servants on a 
 plantation as they glide through a regular old Vir- 
 ginia reel, with their aptness for copying after the 
 style and grace of their mistresses, combined with an 
 admixture of original jigging, not of a vulgar, but 
 of a quiet, decent character. There is a very great 
 difference between an old Virginia break-down, as 
 indulged in by the field hands, or what they com- 
 monly called "common niggers," and a select dance, 
 as indulged in by the house-servants, or " upper crust 
 darkeys. " In the latter, there is an entire absence of 
 the coarse, vulgar, noisy break-downs and jigs which 
 were so common in the former. When the servants 
 who lived in the " big house" held their social gather- 
 ings, the lines of social distinction were closely drawn. 
 Even among these poor unfortunates, all deprived of 
 their liberty alike, there existed those social ties which 
 both bind and separate the coarse and vulgar from 
 the more refined and genteel. 
 
20 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 Purcey's beauty and lady-like bearing could not 
 help but command considerable attention from the 
 colored beaux. Every young man in the county knew 
 her, and every young man in the county would have 
 sacrificed his eye teeth, or committed some other 
 bodily infliction, to have had the pleasure of basking 
 in the sunshine of Miss Purce}^'s smiles. Several had 
 made strenuous efforts to gain favor from her, but in 
 vain. Her dignified, yet lady-like, bearing proved 
 too great a barrier for any continued advances on 
 their part. She became commonly and mutually re- 
 spected, if not almost revered, by all the young men 
 without being bored by any of them. She was called 
 the beauty of the county, and, whenever present at 
 any kind of a gathering, was the queen of the hour. 
 It need not be said that a vague suspicion existed 
 among these sons of bondage that Purcey thought 
 herself too good for many of them, and the suspicion 
 was well founded. 
 
 Among the most determined of Purcey's suit- 
 ors, was a young man who was the property of 
 a once very wealthy widow lady, who kept about 
 her only a few servants of her own, hiring what- 
 ever other help she needed to work her plantation. 
 James Seabury was the young man in question, and 
 he was the Widow Dean's favorite servant. He was 
 given much liberty, managed the other servants, and 
 was trusted beyond limit. He was commonly called 
 the " Widow Dean's Jim." Jim was of a copper- 
 colored complexion, with straight hair, clear cut fea- 
 
ANOTHER FAMILY. 21 
 
 tures, and a fine physique. He dressed with great 
 taste and neatness, and sported a handsome gold 
 watch a gift of his mistress, who took great pride in 
 him. Jim was naturally quick withal, and possessed 
 a splendid mind which only needed cultivation. Here, 
 however, was the level upon which he stood with the 
 most stunted and ignorant field hand. With all his 
 natural acquirements, without freedom, without the 
 letter, his condition was a regretful one, and his ex- 
 cellent qualities were stunted by a cruel, unjust op- 
 pression. Jim had vainly struggled to force his at- 
 tentions upon Purcey ; he spared neither money nor 
 wit to win her affection, and while, at times, his soul 
 was delighted by a few hours in her society, yet all 
 of his advances were met with a dignified but posi- 
 tive check. He was, of course, without those traits 
 of winsomeness so common to men of a more intel- 
 lectual mind, and had to content himself with his 
 simple knowledge of wooing, as he had been taught 
 by Uncle Oscar. 
 
 Every plantation had some old uncle or aunty 
 who set up business as instructor in love affairs. 
 Their stock of information was very limited, 
 and partook much of a sameness, but to the poor, 
 untutored minds of those who received instructions 
 from them, they were regarded as prophetical, and 
 great confidence was placed in them. The instruc- 
 tions in love-making, as imparted by Uncle Oscar, 
 were of that character of information which makes a 
 man better off without it. He could get so far and 
 
22 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 no farther ; then the pupil was left to talk for himself. 
 Jim had called on Uncle Oscar for instructions as to 
 how to make love, and had been addressed something 
 like this : 
 
 " Now, chile, when yer heart is set on a young 
 lady, and you wants ter 'splain to her de amors 
 affecshun of yer heart, you goes in. She says, 
 'Hab a seat ? ' You says, ' Don't car if do.' She says, 
 'Best yer hat?' You says, 'Don't car if I do.' Den, 
 when you'se seated, you cross yer legs, puts yer hand 
 up in yer serspender, dis way, fro back yer head, and 
 say : ' Miss, dar has been sumpfin' on my mind dat I 
 hab sought prebious opportunites befor the present 
 'cassion to give unlimited scope to my 'spressions. 
 Should dar be no 'jections, I desire to 'splain what 
 hab been to me de unhappy moments when I'se 
 absent from yer presence.' After yer hab said dis, 
 den wait for 'feet" 
 
 This is as far as Uncle Oscar's instructions 
 extended. What was to be done after the effect, 
 James was left to decide for himself. With 
 this meager information, arrant knight never went 
 forth to meet his lady fair with more boldness than 
 the Widow Dean's Jim. As he sallied forth to call 
 upon Miss Purcey, over and over in his mind did he 
 turn the words of his tutor, until he could repeat them 
 almost verbatim. Having reached the presence of 
 his fair Dulcina, being invited to a seat, Jim, without 
 any further conversation, began to recite Uncle Oscar's 
 love piece. When he came to the end of his speech 
 
ANOTHER FAMILY. 23 
 
 he stopped, as a matter of course, and waited for the 
 effect. Purcej waited for him to proceed until the 
 pause became embarrassing, when she said, "Pro 
 ceed, Mr. Seaburj." Jim looked at her in a dazed 
 sort of manner, appearing completely puzzled. That 
 word was more than he could digest. He did not 
 know whether it meant to go or remain, whether it 
 was encouraging or discouraging ; consequently, Jim 
 did the most- natural thing imaginable: he looked 
 straight at Purcey with a puzzled air and grinned. 
 
 This ended the love-making, but did not dampen 
 Jim's ardor, for he continued to press his attentions 
 upon Purcey to such an extent that the girl grew 
 alarmed at hisdoggeddetermination. He began to grow 
 desperate, and finding that he could not summon 
 sufficient manly courage to declare his love, he de- 
 cided to fill his bosom with the stuff that cheers, and 
 which is supposed to urge men to deeds of valor as 
 well as crime. Opportunity soon presented itself a 
 camp- meeting was to be held a few miles from the 
 village, and, as was the custom when camp-meetings 
 were held, everybody for miles around attended them. 
 
 Jim selected one of the widow's best horses, and 
 provided himself with plenty of spending money. 
 Dressed with his usual neatness, his gold watch-fob 
 dangling from his pocket, he set out for the camp, 
 intending to seek Purcey, whom he knew would be 
 there. Now had Jim been possessed with the cour- 
 age or the forethought of the average young man, 
 he would have engaged his lover's company for the 
 
24 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 entire journey, and thus shut out the possibility of 
 any rival out-generaling him. But not attending to 
 these details, he was doomed to a disappointment and 
 humiliation that day which ended forever his affec- 
 tions for Purcey, and shook his confidence in the en- 
 couraging influence of the wine when it is red, or corn 
 juice after it is distilled. 
 
 The camp-meeting was a large one, conducted by 
 Brother Uncle Belden, of Baptist faith. Brother Bel- 
 den was a gifted man ; he was blessed or gifted with 
 a stentorian pair of lungs, a very active and original 
 imagination, and could read the Bible with the lids 
 closed, with as much satisfaction to himself as he 
 could when open, because Brother Belden could not 
 read at all. He had, however, been called to preach, 
 and with an ever-ready obedience shown by those 
 only who have received the call, he responded. 
 Uncle Belden was one of that vast army of called 
 laborers in the vineyard of the Lord, who have never 
 stopped to measure their fitness. Fitness was con- 
 sidered hardly necessary as a qualification to their 
 labor: So nearly on an equality were the preacher 
 and the hearer, that he who announced that he had 
 been called by the Lord to labor in His moral vine- 
 yard was looked upon with holy reverence. They 
 were all equallv deprived, both the called and the 
 uncalled. The privilege of obtaining any better 
 knowledge of the Word of God was denied them, 
 except through the medium of such men as Uncle 
 Belden. 
 
ANOTHER FAMILY 25 
 
 In him they confided ; him they honored ; in him 
 they saw the messenger of the Lord bearing the only 
 consolation which was like balm to their hearts 
 in their deepest sufferings. From this source they 
 learned, after all the sufferings of this life, that a 
 brighter and more peaceful one awaited them in the 
 life to come. 
 
 It was the true camp-meeting of ye olden times, 
 when the people were inspired with the earnestness 
 of their work, and worshiped beneath the green trees 
 and the bright heavens, the sweet songsters of na- 
 ture responding to their earnestness. The soft, green 
 turf upon which they kneeled and poured forth 
 prayers, such as only their simple souls could give 
 utterance to, was quite in place, and far superior to 
 their houses of worship. The hymns they sang were 
 original and quaint, the music was unwritten and in- 
 imitable, the pathos exciting them to high but ear- 
 nest demonstration. What a contrast between ye 
 camp -meeting of ye good old slave-days and the 
 Sabbath -breaking, speculative gatherings of to-day! 
 It was one of these camps Jim attended, and as he 
 had expected, met Purcey Upon discovering her, 
 he carried out with avidity his determination to bol- 
 ster up his courage with the stuff that cheers. From 
 the well-filled bottle with which he had provided 
 himself, he took frequent potations, until his courage 
 was up to the point of boldness sufficient to ap- 
 proach her. Purcey, dressed in the riding habit which 
 had so incensed her mistress, resting against a tree, 
 
26 BOXD AND FREE. 
 
 and deeply engrossed with Brother Belden's disserta- 
 tion upon the unknown future, looked the picture of 
 beauty. 
 
 Jim approached her, touching her gently on the 
 arm. Purcey turned suddenly, and discovered from 
 his dilating eyes and the unpleasant aroma which 
 emanated from his mouth that he had been drinking. 
 Her first impulse was to reprimand him then arid 
 there, but fearing to attract attention, she said : 
 
 "Well, Mr. Seabury, you here?" 
 
 Jim said, " Yes, Miss Purcey, will you walk with 
 me?" 
 
 This invitation, coming from a young man in his 
 cups, would doubtless have been refused by most 
 young women, but Purcey, knowing Jim's sticking 
 qualities, assented. The two left the vicinity of the 
 pulpit, which was a rude structure erected out of 
 rough boards and set upon four logs, and proceeded 
 a short distance toward the open road. When they 
 had gone, as Purcey thought, far enough, she stopped, 
 and, in a very polite manner, asked her escort what 
 he desired. By this time. Jim had become pretty 
 well confused, and had been lost in a maze of thought 
 as to what to say to Purcey ; now that they were 
 alone, after a moment's silence, having apparently col- 
 lected his scattered thoughts, he said : 
 
 "Miss Purcey, I love you, 'deed I do, and, if your 
 master will let me, I want to marry you. Will you 
 have me? " At this, he fell on his knees and seized 
 her hand with both of his, covering it with kisses. 
 
ANOTHER FAMILY. 27 
 
 Purcey was almost dying with laughter, for, from 
 amidst the crowded camp, she saw William McCullar 
 looking uneasily around, and knew that it was she 
 whom he sought. He finally caught a glimpse of her 
 standing in the road, a man upon his knees before 
 her, and she struggling to free her hand from his 
 grasp. With a sudden bound, almost like a flash, he 
 was at her side; taking in the situation at a glance, 
 he saw no harm was meant Purcey ; so he gently re- 
 leased Jim's grasp, and, taking Purcey by the arm, 
 stood between the girl and his arduous rival. With 
 a graceful sweep of his arm and a look of contempt, 
 William said, " Young man, you's entirely too pre- 
 vious," when he quietly led her away. Poor Jim, 
 finding himself alone in the road and his rich black 
 broadcloth pants covered with dust, arose shyly, 
 sought his horse, returned home, and banished all 
 love for Purcev from his bosom. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 THE BARGAIN. 
 
 Jonathan Maxwell was anxious that Purcey should 
 marry one of the McCullar breed, which one, he did 
 not care. So he betook himself to the Biggers 
 plantation for the purpose of bringing about the de- 
 sired union. Jonathan was always a welcome visitor 
 at the Biggers mansion, and, when announced, Mr. 
 Biggers was just turning over in his mind the pro 
 ject of "putting a few niggers into his pocket," as he 
 always termed the bartering away of human flesh and 
 blood. For some time Mr. Biggers had been grow- 
 ing financially embarrassed; he had parted with a 
 number of his slaves to the traders, and others had 
 parted from him for fear of being sold South. Two 
 or three of his slaves had made successful attempts in 
 escaping, which had only aroused the rancorous 
 feeling in the man, and, one day, he called them all 
 up and informed them that the next time a d m 
 nigger ran away from the plantation, he would sell 
 all the rest and put them into his pocket, where he 
 was sure they would be safe. 
 
 Mr. Biggers said, " Don't I clothe you ? don't I feed 
 you? don't I give you a holiday every Christmas? 
 Well, if I do this, why don't you be obedient to your 
 master, and be contented with your lot?" After giv- 
 es) 
 
THE BARGAIN. 29 
 
 ing them this lecture, he bought two keen-scented 
 blood-hounds, discharged his overseer, and brought 
 up another from an Alabama plantation, a man who 
 he said could flay a nigger alive, and was up to all 
 their tricks. Notwithstanding all of these precau- 
 tions, it was not long before another runaway was re- 
 ported, and as Mr. Biggers sat counting up his losses 
 from runaways for every runaway slave represented 
 the loss of so many dollars and cents, which natur- 
 ally decreased Mr. Biggers' wealth and, further, 
 realizing the pressing demands for money. Jona- 
 than Maxwell's visit, just at this time, on business of 
 the nature upon which he came, was not only oppor- 
 tune, but a great oasis in Mr. Biggers' financial desert. 
 
 It would, perhaps, be well to contrast the two men 
 as we have them before us. Jonathan Maxwell we 
 know as a proud, unscrupulous, designing man, stop- 
 ping at nothing to make a dollar, yet he was not a 
 cruel master, unless all men who deprived their fel- 
 low-man of his liberty were cruel. Abraham Big- 
 gers was a man of an entirely different type, being 
 short in stature, heavily built, stub-feet, stub-hands^ 
 and stub-nose. His head was round and his neck 
 short and thick. He looked out of two very restless 
 and small eyes, overhung with large shaggy eyebrows 
 while all over his countenance could be discerned ? 
 low cunning, cruelty, and utter meanness. 
 
 Having welcomed Jonathan, he led the way into a 
 comfortable sitting-room, inviting his visitor to a seat 
 Opening a drawer with a key which he selected from 
 
30 BOND AND FKEE. 
 
 a large bunch lie had taken from his pocket, he pro- 
 duced a box of cigars, pushed them toward Jonathan, 
 who took one and lighted it. Mr. Biggers did like- 
 wise. He waited for Jonathan to open up the con- 
 versation, for it was a rule with him to talk but little 
 and listen much. Jonathan was rather impatient to 
 hurry through with his business, for he had little 
 liking for the man he had to deal with. It is 
 doubtful .whether, under circumstances other than 
 his pecuniary interest, he would have condescended 
 to pay a visit to a man of Mr. Biggers' stamp. With- 
 out much ceremony, he made known the object of 
 his visit. He removed his cigar from his mouth, 
 and said : 
 
 " Biggers, do you know my girl Purcey ? " 
 
 Biggers looked up thoughtfully, tapped his red 
 forehead with one of his stubby fingers, bent his little 
 round body forward, and said : 
 
 " Do you mean that devilish pretty yaller gal whom 
 you have spoiled ? " 
 
 " "Well, if that's the way you put it, yes." 
 
 " What of her? " said Mr. Biggers. 
 
 " I should like to match her with one of your 
 niggers remember, she is a fine girl, and I don't 
 care about matching her with any on my place, so I 
 thought if I could get your consent, we would mate 
 her with one of the McCullar niggers." 
 
 Mr. Biggers sat bolt upright, removed the cigar from 
 his mouth, which he had been chewing more than 
 smoking, and before answering, wondered what object 
 
THE BARGAIN. 81 
 
 other than the one stated, Jonathan could have in 
 desiring this union. He knew that whatever children 
 they had would become Maxwell's, and he (Biggers) 
 would gain nothing by the match in that respect. He 
 also feared that Puree y, proud as he knew she was 
 her blood being so mixed with that of the Anglo- 
 Saxon might put the devil in her husband's head and 
 induce him to run away. He did not, however, give 
 utterance to any of these thoughts, but looked steadily 
 at Maxwell, as he said slowly, 
 
 "Jonathan, what will you take for that gal?" 
 
 " I don't want to sell her ; I want to mate her." 
 
 " Why not sell her ? Let me have her, and I'll 
 make you a present of the first born and it won't 
 be a nigger, either." 
 
 Jonathan Maxwell did not know whether Biggers 
 was in earnest or in jest, for Biggers kept smiling 
 all the time and looking straight at him. So speak- 
 ing rather , impatiently, he said, "Biggers, I mean 
 business, and you have gone to jesting." 
 
 " Never was more serious in my life. You sell me 
 the gal or buy the boy, otherwise we can't drive a 
 bargain." 
 
 Jonathan knew that when Biggers came to a con- 
 clusion there was no moving him. He had not thought 
 of making a purchase, but he now saw that if he 
 wanted to mate Purcey to one of the McCullars, he 
 must buy one of them. So he said, " Which one 
 will you sell?" 
 
 " Any one of them you want. A nigger's only 
 
32 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 so much cash to me, and I would just as lief sell one 
 as another; all I want is the price." 
 
 '' Well," said Jonathan, " the one I hire from you 
 occasionally is a good worker, apparently sound, 
 healthy, and active. What is your price for him ? " 
 
 " That's a devilish good boy you have selected, and 
 I would not part with him for a cent less than two 
 thousand dollars," was Mr. Biggers' reply, as he 
 brought his fist down upon the table. And his little 
 eyes twinkled. 
 
 " Then you had better keep him ; he is worth more 
 to you than he is to me. There isn't a nigger on my 
 place I would ask you that much for." 
 
 " Will you take two thousand dollars for the gal? " 
 
 " Yes, give me the money, and she is yours." 
 
 Mr. Abraham Biggers was taken somewhat aback 
 by this offer, for with all his talk about buying the 
 girl, he had no such intention, and if he had, all his 
 ready resources were so intricately tied up that he 
 could not have made the purchase had his desire been 
 ever so great. So he began to change his mode of 
 attack. 
 
 "Now look here, Maxwell, two thousand dollars 
 ain't a big price for that 'ere boy, for he's worth 
 every dollar of it, and if he is anything like that old 
 black father of his, he will make five times the 
 money for you in less than ten years. Besides, as a 
 hand about the place, I haven't got his equal ; never 
 growls, ain't vicious, and only needs lashing once in 
 a while to keep him in mind of his place." This was 
 
THE BARGAIN. 33 
 
 one of Mr. Biggers' customs, which he invariably 
 carried out, no matter how faithful a slave was, how 
 attentive to work, or true to his master. With that 
 ingratitude of the dog that snaps at the hand which 
 feeds him, this cruel and heartless master found some 
 pretext to ply the lash, often remarking that niggers 
 would forget themselves. 
 
 Jonathan Maxwell was quick to take advantage of 
 Mr. Biggers' pecuniary condition ; he well knew and. 
 fully understood the close quarters his neighbor was 
 in. He knew the man, and he at once commenced to 
 display an air of indifference. 
 
 " Now, Biggers, I ain't particular about Bill, any 
 of the other boys will suit me just as well. The 
 reason I selected him is, because the girl appears to 
 take to him, and I don't believe there would be any 
 trouble about mating them, if I had him on the 
 place." 
 
 Mr. Biggers rubbed his stubby hands together, as 
 though greatly tickled with the last remarks of 
 Jonathan. 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! Maxwell," he replied, "that's it exactly, 
 that's it ; the gal takes to him, no trouble to make the 
 match, two thousand dollars and he is yours; cheap, 
 sir, cheap as bull-beef at a penny a pound," and lying 
 back in his chair, he laughed heartily at his own 
 cleverness. 
 
 " But," said Jonathan, " I protest ! Two thousand 
 dollars is too much ; I can buy two niggers for that." 
 
 Mr. Biggers formed the opinion in his own mind 
 
34 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 that he was very clever. So pleased was he with his 
 own humor that he invariably laughed when, as he 
 thought, he was about to say, or had said, a clever 
 thing. He did not intend to lose the chance of 
 making a sale, and his object for holding out so long 
 before coming down to his selling-price was to see 
 how anxious Jonathan was to make the purchase. 
 Jonathan's indifference made him somewhat afraid 
 to dally too long, and he spoke now like a man 
 anxious to take hold, but unwilling to let go. 
 
 " So you could, sir, so you could. But the two 
 wouldn't be the one you want, ha ! ha ! How is that, 
 Maxwell? Ha! ha!" 
 
 Jonathan looked at his neighbor, and a sarcastic 
 smile overspread his face. He was growing tired of 
 Mr. Biggers, for he felt satisfied that that gentleman 
 had not put the price he meant to sell at on the man, 
 Bill. He was as anxious to buy as Biggers was to 
 sell, but he used every effort to conceal his anxiety. 
 
 " Tell you what I will do. If you have any other 
 niggers to sell, I will take one of them ; I wouldn't 
 pay two thousand dollars for any one you have on 
 the place." 
 
 " That shows you don't know the place, and what 
 it is capable of producing, Maxey , ha ! ha ! (Jonathan's 
 lip curled with scorn at being thus familiarly addressed, 
 but said nothing.) " Make me an offer," said Mr. Big- 
 gers, "but be liberal, Maxey, be liberal." 
 
 ''Make you a liberal offer?" said Jonathan, with a 
 
THE BAEGAIN. 35 
 
 smile. "I shall be liberal; I will give you one 
 thousand and five hundred cash." 
 
 Mr. Biggers stretched out his short legs to their 
 full length, lay back in his chair, tossing to one side 
 his little bullet head, while his little pea-like eyes 
 closed alternately, his stubby hands went down into 
 his pockets, and, in the absence of any cash, rattled 
 a bunch of keys. His thin blue lips were pursed 
 up, and he uttered a long, low whistle which ended 
 by him saying, " Not by a d m sight ! " 
 
 "All right," said Maxwell, as he arose and took 
 his hat and gloves from the table. " Then that settles 
 it, the boy is yours, the girl is mine, and so is the 
 cash." 
 
 Mr. Biggers, without changing his position, with 
 his eyes still performing the grand change, said, " Add 
 another hundred." Jonathan paused, with his hand 
 upon the door-knob, eyed his neighbor closely, and, 
 without a word, returned to the table, took his check- 
 book from the inner pocket of his coat, and filled up 
 a blank for sixteen hundred dollars. This he handed 
 over to Mr. Biggers, who examined it closely again 
 and again, folded it up, and in a very bad hand wrote 
 out a receipt, transferring the same to Jonathan, and 
 with as polite a bow as his coarse manners permitted, 
 said, 
 
 " Shall I send the boy with you? " 
 
 Jonathan answered, "No, send him to me." By 
 this transaction, William McCullar became the pro- 
 perty of Jonathan Maxwell, and was to be installed 
 
36 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 upon the very plantation where the woman he loved 
 resided. He was, in fact, to enjoy bondage under a 
 new master, where his eyes would daily behold all 
 that was dear to him in life. 
 
 Was it possible for this piece of goods and chattel 
 to have within his breast affection? Could that 
 affection spring from the same source as that of a 
 white man? Was it born of the same material, 
 possessing the same tendency? Was it, or could 
 it be, formed into a love pure and true, a love such 
 as poets have sung of, and mankind is subject to? 
 Could this being, deprived of everything except 
 the five senses given him by God, either by instinct 
 or reason, reach that higher attitude of affection? 
 Such, dear readers, was the case. His ardor reached 
 the fullest, the highest, the purest, the holiest of love. 
 This was the affection which William McCullar, a 
 slave, who had nothing but his soul to call his own, 
 bore Purcey. And when his master summoned him 
 and handed him an unsealed note, directing him to 
 deliver it at the Maxwell plantation, his innocent 
 heart bounded with joy not that he knew the con- 
 tents of the note, for had it been written in letters 
 ten times as large, they would have conveyed to his 
 mind no greater significance than do the characters on 
 Chinese tea chest to the average man. William's 
 heart bounded because he knew that in going to the 
 Maxwell plantation he would see Purcey ; because 
 he could go to the house where she resided, in open 
 daylight without fear of molestation, and feast his 
 
THE BARGAIN. 37 
 
 eyes upon her beauty. There was but one thing that 
 puzzled him. He could not understand why his 
 master had selected him as a bearer of a message 
 to Jonathan Maxwell. House-servants were usually 
 employed as messengers, and he was a teamster. 
 Another thought struck him. Was the note he had 
 to deliver a pass that he could use upon his return, 
 as he realized that it would be well into the night 
 before he could return? This gave him cause for 
 alarm. He feared that, returning in the night, he 
 might be captured by the patrol, and he well knew 
 what that meant, to be caught off his master's planta- 
 tion without a pass. 
 
 The patrol were a dread to all slaves. They were 
 men employed by the master to arrest all slaves found, 
 after a certain hour at night, away from home without 
 a permit. When they caught a slave, his back usually 
 got nine and thirty. They consisted of a poor class 
 of whites, who found pleasure in such employment, 
 often indulging in it for mere sport. They frequently, 
 out of pure cussedness, attacked the slaves when as- 
 sembled together, or having such pleasures as they 
 found to indulge in. The patrol, consisting of half 
 a dozen ruffians, would surround a resort for slaves, 
 and make a raid upon it ; the negroes would scatter 
 in every direction, and those unfortunate enough to be 
 captured were whipped for the fun of it. These ruf- 
 fians did not always succeed in getting away without 
 injury, for a broken head caused by a stray missile 
 hurled by some slave was not an unusual occurence. 
 
38 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 William did not spend much time in considering 
 these questions, although very important to him. He 
 had been directed by his master to go to the Max- 
 well plantation, and the prospect of seeing Purcey, 
 he thought, was worth a race with the patrol. They 
 had to catch him before they whipped him, and he 
 consoled himself with the confidence he had in his 
 legs. He now set out to deliver the message of his 
 master, perfectly innocent of his purchase by Jona- 
 than. So eager was he to reach his destination that 
 he arrived there in an incredibly short time. Little 
 did he think what a doom a pleasant doom was in 
 store for him. 
 
 How like many of his fellow-men was William! 
 His position, his surroundings were not given a 
 moment's thought. Now, all his thoughts were 
 concentrated on the one object, His one hope, 
 his one thought was of the woman he loved ; and 
 any pretext or opportunity that carried him into the 
 presence of her to whom he was devoted was only 
 too eagerly sought or accepted. The note was duly 
 delivered to Jonathan Maxwell, who, after glancing 
 over its contents, said to William, " I have bought 
 you. You are to remain upon my place." Had a 
 thunderbolt struck at his feet and buried itself in 
 the earth without injuring him, William could not 
 have been more amazed. He was stricken completely 
 dumb, and stood with bowed and uncovered head in 
 that attitude of submissiveness so characteristic of 
 the slave, his heart struggling within his bosom as if 
 
THE BARGAIN. 39 
 
 it would burst forth from its confines ; Jonathan di- 
 rected him to go to the kitchen and remain there 
 until sent for. William moved mechanically, but 
 swiftly, making an effort to conceal from his new 
 master his happiness. Entering the kitchen, he found 
 Purcey 's mother in charge of the culinary department, 
 busy in preparing the midday meal. 
 
 Every, or nearly every Southern kitchen seemed 
 to be incomplete without the customary black cook, 
 generally an old aunty, coal black, her head en- 
 cased in a bandanna handkerchief, and with a knowl- 
 edge of cooking that fitted her to cook a meal 
 to please a king. The Maxwell house had one of 
 this kind of chefs with the exception of the black- 
 ness. Elva, the mother of Purcey, was not an ordi- 
 nary woman. On the contrary, she was a most ex- 
 traordinary woman, taking into consideration her 
 condition. She was endowed with quick perception 
 and much intelligence. She was of tall stature, with 
 high, intelligent forehead, and large, black, lustrous 
 eyes, which, when fixed upon one, seemed to rivet 
 him to the spot, or burn their way almost into the very 
 heart. Over these eyes, she had .complete control. 
 Her daughter Purcey fully understood their every 
 motion, Elva could ask or answer a question, with- 
 out moving her lips, by the expression of her eyes. She 
 could spread beams of love, or darts of awe. Neither 
 her mistress nor master cared to withstand their gaze. 
 Jonathan was never known to invade that part of 
 
40 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 the house allotted to Elva, except when his cook was 
 in the most amiable mood. 
 
 When William entered the kitchen, Elva, though 
 busily engaged at her work, appeared much engrossed 
 in thought. We have said that she was an extraor- 
 dinary woman, and so she was for one in her posi- 
 tion. Her intelligence was remarkable, and she pos- 
 sessed all of those qualities peculiar to her sex. Per- 
 haps the admixture of Indian and Anglo-Saxon blood 
 in her veins answered for the possession of these quali- 
 ties. But making such an admission as this strength- 
 ens a theory which was quite prevalent in the days 
 of slavey and, perhaps, exists among a few negro- 
 haters to-day that a negro is incapable of any deep 
 thought. Nevertheless, Elva was thinking and roll- 
 ing out dough at the same time. 
 
 She was the mother of five children, as we know. 
 Her husband had been sold from her immediately 
 following the birth of the fifth and last child. After 
 he was sold, she determined never to marry again ; 
 she would never again be guilty of adding fuel to the 
 fire of slavery. This was a vow she took and she 
 kept it, notwithstanding the importunities of numer- 
 ous suitors. She had taken another vow, and that 
 was that her children should be free at least those 
 who desired freedom and it was this subject which 
 so deeply interested her that, when William entered 
 the room, she failed to notice his presence. Plans 
 had already been effected for the escape of her two 
 sons, and she was now engaged in studying out the 
 
THE BARGAIN. 41 
 
 course she was to pursue in assisting in the contem- 
 plated escape. She knew nothing of William's pres- 
 ence until she heard him mention her name. Turning 
 suddenly with the rolling-pin in her hands, she be- 
 held William, his face wreathed in smiles, bowing 
 and scraping in an excited manner. His presence at 
 such an hour at the Maxwell house, looking unusu- 
 ally tidy and acting so strangely, rather surprised her. 
 It was not William's custom or privilege to visit Pur- 
 cey in the day-time. He usually came at night, and 
 was always in fear of being captured by the pa- 
 trol before he could return home ; it was also a very 
 unusual thing for one of Mr. Biggers' negroes to be 
 off on a holiday. William would often stop at the 
 Maxwell house, when passing with his six-horse team, 
 and had been made the recipient of many a square 
 meal. But here he was, at an hour in the day when 
 all able-bodied negroes were earning bread for their 
 masters. She looked at him with those beautiful 
 black eyes, which seemed to ask the question her lips 
 finally propounded. William had just come from a 
 hard and severe master, who worked his slaves hard 
 and fed them poorly, and this change of masters gave 
 him so much pleasure that he could hardly realize 
 it. 
 
 Mr. Biggers had very strict rules about his place, 
 especially applying to his slaves. None of them were 
 allowed off of the place ; and if they went to church, 
 or attended any of the festivities on neighboring plan- 
 tations, to be found out was to receive a sure and 
 
-2 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 severe lashing. Abraham Biggers' negroes, as it was 
 known for miles around, never got more than half 
 enough to eat. For six days in the week, they 
 worked from sunrise until sunset, upon rations is- 
 sued to them daily, and on the seventh day they 
 fared the best they could, rations never being issued 
 on the Sabbath. His idea was, that when a nigger 
 didn't work he didn't need to be fed. It will then be 
 seen that all of his slaves were left to shift for them- 
 selves upon this particular day. The result was, that 
 neighboring hen-roosts, as well as smoke-houses and 
 corn-fields, were frequently visited. Many were the 
 complaints to Mr. Biggers about his thieving negroes, 
 but to them he only turned a deaf ear. The reader 
 might, perhaps, think that the hen-roosts of Mr. Big- 
 gers suffered with the rest, but such was not the case. 
 There was not a slave upon his place that dared to 
 steal from this man ; they could steal from anywhere 
 else, or steal anything they could lay hands upon, 
 but it was worth a negro's life to steal from Abra- 
 ham Biggers. 
 
 There were many things in the character of Mr. 
 Abraham Biggers showing that he was a man with- 
 out principle, avaricious, conniving, and not only a 
 cruel master, but that he was in fact mean. He 
 bore the unenviable reputation of acquiring the pro- 
 perty of his neighbors without paying a proper 
 equivalent, and through very questionable means. 
 
 It was a custom to allow to all slaves from 
 three to four weeks during the Christmas holi- 
 
THE BARGAIN. 43 
 
 days. Their time was exclusively their own. After 
 the first of the year, many of them who were hired 
 out by their masters exchanged places. The Christ- 
 mas season was a general gala time among them, 
 and for weeks before its approach, they began to lay 
 by their little earnings for a good time. Some mas- 
 ters allowed them whatever they could earn for two 
 or three weeks ; others granted their slaves the priv- 
 lege of raising a hog, or poultry, which they could 
 dispose of at will, and apply the proceeds of such a 
 sale to their enjoyment. Those who had masters 
 who granted none of these privileges secured their 
 spending money by stealing whatever they could, 
 and converting their stealings into money. Many 
 slaves who were employed to thresh grain would fill 
 their pockets with it, whenever opportunity offered, 
 and by this means would get bags full, and sell 
 wherever they could. Such was the business that 
 Mr. Biggers indulged in. He would buy anything 
 brought to him. He was known to have bought as 
 high as ten bags of clover-seed stolen from his neigh- 
 bor's granary by the servants. To his mind, this was 
 profitable business ; the hogs in his pens, the poultry 
 in his barn-yard, and the sheep in his pasture, as well 
 as the grain in his granary, were all well mixed with 
 the pilfered property of his neighbors. Still this 
 man worked and drove his servants on barely suffi- 
 cient rations to sustain life, and no complaints were 
 ever tolerated. 
 
 His servants were never allowed to eat at the table, 
 
44 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 but were compelled to eat standing. In harvest, but 
 half an hour was given for meals, and they were 
 driven under the whip of a cruel overseer from sun- 
 rise until sun set. Abraham Biggers had never been 
 married; no woman had ever as yet been won by any 
 of Mr. Biggers' personal charms ; so far he had been 
 left alone to enjoy his meanness and vent his spleen 
 upon his goods and chattels, in place of upon a com- 
 panion of his bosom. You must not think, dear 
 reader, that this man, capable of doing anything 
 mean, contemptible, or base, hesitated to satisfy his 
 passions with the poor unfortunate creatures who 
 were forced to call him master. It was his custom 
 to live with those of his female slaves whom his 
 base desires choose. By one of them, he had been 
 known to have three children, selling mother and 
 children to the traders. It was a very ordinary thing 
 for Mr. Biggers to engage in this sort of business. 
 He was once known to purchase a very handsome 
 woman called Jane, to whose quarters he would go 
 regularly at night and remain. The woman finally 
 gave birth to a child, and was, in a few weeks, sold 
 to the traders. As negro traders never bought women 
 with nursing children at their breast, and as the 
 child's whereabouts was never discovered, rumors 
 flew thick and fast that only God and Abraham Big- 
 gers knew its fate. This was the man from whom 
 William McCullar was purchased by Jonathan Max< 
 well, and the man had many reasons to rejoice at the 
 change of mastership. 
 
THE BARGAIN. 45 
 
 When Elva looked at William, she sai'd, " Well, 
 William, what brings you here?" 
 
 ''Oh, Aunt Elva, what you think? " 
 
 " I don't know, honey, but I bin thinking good bit 
 of late. What's the matter?' 1 
 
 "Why, Mars Maxwell has done bought me, and I 
 am to live here." 
 
 Elva was quite surprised to hear this announce- 
 ment, and said: "Well, one thing's sure, child, you'll 
 have a better master and more to eat. I suppose 
 you and Purcey will both be happy. But, child, 
 take my advice and don't marry to bring children 
 into the world to become slaves." William hardly 
 heard this last remark, for entering the room from a 
 door directly before him, was Purcey, with her hands 
 full of dishes; and in her plain calico wrapper and 
 neat apron, her hair tucked carefully away under a 
 pretty little turban, she cut a simple but beautiful 
 figure. She bowed to William, deposited the dishes 
 upon the table, extended her hand, and invited him 
 to a seat, a courtesy her mother had entirely forgotten 
 to extend, owing to her astonishment. Purcey said, 
 " Why, Mr. McCullar, what brings you here this time 
 of day?" 
 
 "I have come here to stay." 
 
 " Come here to stay ! What dp you mean? " 
 
 " Mars Maxwell bought me to-day, and I arn to 
 stay here." 
 
 It must not be supposed that Purcey had no love 
 for William, for she had ; she loved him dearly, sin- 
 
46 BOND AND FKEE. 
 
 cerely, but with becoming modesty. So when she 
 heard that William had been bought by her master, 
 she could scarcely conceal her ecstasy. She could 
 hardly realize that he whom she loved so dearly was 
 to be her every-day companion, or, at least, be so 
 near to her that she would see him almost constantly. 
 In a very calm manner, she congratulated him, and 
 hoped he would be pleased and contented with his 
 new home. William was soon settled in his new 
 quarters, and the course of love ran smooth be- 
 tween him and Purcey, for unlike other people of 
 the world, although enjoying freedom, there was 
 nothing to roughen the course of these two hearts. 
 Bound in love and bound in bondage, they entwined 
 and encircled themselves around each other, and 
 sought that happiness known only to the unsophisti- 
 cated. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE WEDDING. 
 
 Purcey and William found much happiness, as was 
 to be expected, from this very agreeable change. 
 Jonathan allowed them to indulge in their affection 
 toward each other without interruption. They were 
 allowed every imaginable freedom. Purcey was per- 
 mitted on Sundays, accompanied by William, to use 
 her mistress' riding horse, while William was given 
 the same liberty with his master's stable. Purcey 
 was an accomplished horsewoman, and when she 
 would set out to have a spurt with her lover, dress- 
 ed as she was in a neat riding-habit made by her own 
 hands from cast-off clothing of her mistress, her beauti- 
 ful black tresses floating in the breeze, and the bright 
 red glow of youth coloring to a beautiful pink tint 
 her delicate complexion, Jonathan Maxwell himself 
 felt proud of being the owner of so beautiful a woman. 
 Mrs. Maxwell, though woman like, could not help 
 but inject a little envy into her remarks when speak- 
 ing of the girl. William was envied by many of 
 the young men. He accompanied Purcey to all the 
 parties, to camp-meeting, and wherever she appeared 
 in public. They grew, if anything, more attached 
 to each other, until the warmest passions of love 
 ruled supreme in their bosoms. They wouid ride 
 for miles and miles together, and Purcey would make 
 
 (47) 
 
48 BOND AND FKEE. 
 
 the woods ring with her joyous laughter whenever 
 William pleased her by saying something clever 
 
 I have said that the course of love ran smooth for 
 these two children of bondage, and so it did. Their 
 happiness was of that sort where perfect contentment 
 existed, where the mind is oblivious to the uncertain- 
 ties of life. William had none of those responsibili- 
 ties before him that would cause a freeman to think 
 and consider of the future. He lived only in the 
 present, he thought only of the present ; and enrap- 
 tured with the surroundings and the change in his 
 situation, his mind never embraced such an idea as 
 an end to all things. He did not have upon his 
 shoulders any of the responsibilities of life : every 
 provision was made for him. He was before the law 
 an irresponsible being, simply a machine built in 
 human form, capable of thought, but restrained from 
 action. His master filled a dual part for him, as the 
 masters of all slaves did. It is true that William's 
 chief wish and thought was to have Purcey for his 
 wife, for he loved her. The only thing now necessary 
 was to obtain his master's consent. The warning 
 Elva had given was entirely lost upon him; he had 
 neither thought nor care for the future; he cared 
 only for the present, his future was his master's. 
 Purcey lived as much in the present as her lover. 
 She had already consented to become his wife; such 
 a union to her would be the consummation of her 
 highest hope. Notwithstanding her mother's attempt 
 to discourage her from any desire to wed while a 
 
THE WEDDING. 49 
 
 slave, the advice, wholesome as it was, had taken 
 wings at the touch of Cupid, and was no longer to be 
 felt. So much in the present did she live that she 
 thought not of a possible separation; she thought not 
 of the hundreds of wives and husbands as devoted, 
 as faithful, as happy as herself, whom she had seen 
 separated, sold one taken by one driver, and the 
 other by another, rent ruthlessly asunder. The holy 
 ties of wedlock were thus severed by the whim or 
 will of a heartless man. She had seen mother torn 
 from daughter, father from son, wife from husband. 
 How many had she seen placed upon the block, how 
 many had she heard of being quietly spirited away, 
 perhaps never to be seen again by those they loved 
 most dear! So entirely was she enraptured, so de- 
 voted was she to this bondman-lover, that if she had 
 a thought of these things, it was brushed aside to 
 give place to that sweeter thought, her present happi- 
 ness. 
 
 It was not an unusual custom for some masters 
 to give their slaves an elegant wedding when they 
 married, especially among the better class of Southern- 
 ers, and as Jonathan Maxwell belonged to one of the 
 best of Southern families, he followed the custom 
 closely, allowing the widest freedom of the house to 
 Purcey and her friends. Preparations on a grand 
 scale were made. A select coterie of house-servants 
 were invited from neighboring plantations, many of 
 the females being attired in their mistresses' silks and 
 satins. Here and there a favorite servant could be 
 
50 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 seen, resplendent in the jewelry of her mistress, while 
 a few of the males were arrayed in their masters' 
 dress suits, in some instances worn with the know- 
 ledge of the master, but in most without it. The 
 ceremony was performed with great eclat by Rev. 
 Meredith, pastor of the church to which Jonathan 
 Maxwell belonged (for it must not pass unnoticed 
 that Jonathan was a member in high standing in the 
 church). The bride was richly attired, as Mrs. Max- 
 well took great pains, at the solicitation of her husband, 
 in preparing Purcey for the great event. She stood 
 there with the blushes of virtue upon her handsome 
 face, her hand resting gently upon William's arm, 
 while the long black eye-lashes drooped over her 
 beautiful black eyes, which were cast upon the floor. 
 The words of the minister sounded distinctly as he 
 said, "What God has joined together let no man put 
 asunder." What a hollow mockery were those words, 
 uttered by a man of the Gospel, in the presence of hun- 
 dreds who did not realize their meaning, and many 
 who had no regard for their sacredness ! Many of 
 the whites were present at the ceremony, and took 
 great pride in pointing out their servants, comment- 
 ing on their value and appearance. For two days 
 the Maxwell house was kept open, the servants came 
 and went, danced and ate to their hearts' content. 
 Nothing was spared to make the event a pleasant 
 one. There was many a one who danced at Purcey's 
 wedding who lived to see the words of the minister 
 
THE WEDDING. 51 
 
 set at naught, and the holiest of all earthly ties sev- 
 ered by the capricious will of a heartless master. 
 
 The few privileges that slaves were allowed to en- 
 joy were taken the greatest advantage of by them. 
 These privileges followed in the wake of all their 
 misery, degradation, and suffering. In the midst of 
 it all, they found that enjoyment that a people find 
 who cannot elevate themselves above their surround- 
 ings; they extracted pleasure out of misery, and 
 found happiness in servitude, because they realized 
 no other condition in life ; they married and were 
 given in marriage, and so lived until their masters 
 saw fit to separate them ; they knew nothing of home 
 influence, because there were no home ties; they as- 
 sumed no responsibility as parents, for their children 
 were only raised to increase their masters' coffers. 
 Could they but have realized this, a blow would 
 have been struck at the heart of slavery that would 
 have caused it to decay from within. The wedding 
 now over, Purcey was William's wife, and both of 
 them still the common property of Jonathan Max- 
 well. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 A BAD START. 
 
 The two sons of Elva, Henry and Joseph, had for 
 some time contemplated making their escape from 
 slavery. Their mother earnestly seconded them, and 
 gave them every encouragement in carrying out their 
 design. They had long since concluded that they 
 were as much value to themselves as to their master, 
 and they saw no reason why they should not be free 
 men. They longed for freedom, and had now deter- 
 mined to obtain it. They had seen their father sold 
 from them and their mother, and they had seen chil- 
 dren sold from their parents. The horrors of slavery 
 had deeply impressed them, and they grew to detest 
 it in all of its forms. Joseph was a brave, manly, 
 intelligent boy, who brought his master three or four 
 hundred dollars yearly by his hire. Henry was his 
 senior by a few years, and about equally as valuable 
 to his master. Freedom to them was a boon much 
 wished for, but, as yet, their idea as to what hard- 
 ships they must suffer before obtaining it had not 
 developed into any definite form. They knew that 
 many had made successful escapes, while others, who 
 had attempted escape, had been returned and sold to 
 the traders, taken South, there to end their existence 
 upon some cotton plantation, or in some Georgia rice 
 swamp, with a cruel overseer to scourge them, and 
 
 [52] 
 
A BAD START. 53 
 
 where the constant baying of the blood hound froze 
 the very blood in their veins from fear. With all of 
 the dangers imminent from an attempt to escape, 
 they remained undaunted and determined. Freedom 
 was what they craved for, and in order to obtain it, 
 everything must be surmounted that stood between 
 them and that for which they so earnestly longed. 
 Implicit confidence was placed in Elva's sagacity and 
 foresight, her advice frequently sought, and closely 
 adhered to. 
 
 Besides Henry and Joseph, there were five others 
 to accompany them. The arrangements were all 
 completed, and, by agreement, they all assembled at 
 one of the slave cabins on the Maxwell place, pre- 
 paratory to starting. A fixed resolution to meet 
 death, rather than be recaptured, was in the mind of 
 every man. 
 
 Elva pointed out to them the North star, telling 
 them this was the guide to all runaways, and that by 
 following it they would eventually reach the North, 
 and a free land. She instructed them to keep to- 
 gether, and if molested, to fight to the death. It 
 was certainly a picture to see these seven human 
 beings, a throbbing heart within the bosom of each 
 one, that beat and longed for freedom. They were 
 fleeing from a servitude which robbed them of man- 
 hood, and deprived them of liberty. Had it not been 
 for their natural endowments, they would have been 
 reckoned on a level with the brute creation. 
 
 Standing there, with uncovered heads, listening to 
 
54 BOXD AND FREE. 
 
 the directions of this woman, who, like an angel, was 
 directing them to a land of freedom, was a picture, a 
 striking picture, and some day the brush of an artist, 
 or the pen of a writer, a descendant of this race, will 
 do justice to one of many such scenes which have so 
 often occurred. 
 
 Elva closed her instructions by invoking the bless- 
 ings of God upon them, and saying, " Whatever you 
 do, honeys, pray constantly and trust in God." 
 
 In the stillness of the night, with no sound except 
 the soft rustling of the leaves as they were fanned 
 by the spring breeze, the chirping of the crickets, 
 and the croak of the frog, this little band of heroes 
 set out upon their search for freedom. Joe was se- 
 lected as the leader, as he was the most intelligent of 
 the band, while Henry, his brother, acted as a kind 
 of lieutenant. Usually, when men start out upon an 
 expedition fraught with danger and unknown perils, 
 they go prepared to meet any difficulty, well armed 
 and well prepared. But how illy prepared was this 
 band of runaways ! All the weapons they had for 
 protection were a stout hickory club, carried in the 
 hand of each man, and only one fire-arm, Joe being 
 in charge of it. The latter was of an old pattern, not 
 guaranteed to kill at a dozen yards. They sallied 
 forth, however, feeling that they were protected by 
 an overruling Providence, and strong in their deter- 
 mination to escape, counting upon their numerical 
 strength at close quarters. Legs were used to good 
 effect, and when daylight began to dawn, Joe, the 
 
A BAD START. 55 
 
 leader, said, " Boys, daylight's coming and we had 
 better lay by." The entire party left the road and 
 concealed themselves in a corn-field. 
 
 Dick Cramp was detailed to make a reconnoisance. 
 He made the circuit of the field in which they were 
 concealed. Beaching a little hill, he looked out over 
 the broad expanse of corn, and saw at some distance 
 a white bull grazing. He looked again, and shaded his 
 eyes with his hand, thinking he was mistaken ; but 
 there grazed the white bull, oblivious to the fact that 
 he was an object of great interest. Dick did not stop 
 to look again, but rushed back to the hiding-place of 
 the others, and called Joe. The noise he made run- 
 ning through the corn brought every man to his feet, 
 club in hand, and the excited man was plied with 
 questions as to what was the matter. 
 
 Dick was one of Mr. Biggers' slaves, and had 
 joined the band of heroes determined upon seek- 
 ing freedom. He was as finely built a specimen of 
 humanity as the eye ever rested upon, black as a 
 coal, with close-cropped hair, and well developed 
 muscles. Just why a white bull should so startle 
 him would not be strange when we consider how 
 superstitious negroes were ; but there was a great 
 deal more of reality than superstition about this par- 
 ticular bull. 
 
 Mr. Biggers owned a white bull of very fine breed, 
 and it was the only one of the kind known for miles, 
 in that neighborhood. When Dick saw this white 
 bull, he knew that it was his master's, and when he 
 
56 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 had recovered himself sufficiently to answer the many 
 questions with which he was plied, he said: 
 
 " Fore de Lord, boys ! I saw Mars Biggers 1 white 
 bull grazen over yonder on de hill/' 
 
 Joe replied: " Dick, you'se a fool ; what's Biggers' 
 bull doin' grazen round here, when we'se miles from 
 home? Ain't we been travelin' all night? " 
 
 " Can't help it, child, dat's Mars Biggers' bull. Go 
 look for yoursels." 
 
 Biggers' white bull was as familiar to Joe and all 
 the rest of them as it was to Dick. To allay Dick's 
 fears, Joe went to the fence, mounted it, and looking 
 in the direction indicated by Dick, beheld the identi- 
 cal white bull. Joe discovered more, upon a careful 
 investigation ; he discovered that they were in Mr. 
 Biggers' corn-field, and quickly concluded that they 
 had lost their way, having simply been circling around 
 their starting-point. Keturning to the others, he said: 
 
 "Boys, we'se in a pretty fix; here we been trablin' 
 all night, and ain't out of sight of de old plantation." 
 
 "What we gwine to do," some one asked. 
 
 " Why, we'll all go home and go to work, meet 
 here to-night, and start agin," said Joe. 
 
 As it was hardly daylight, it was not probable that 
 any of them had been missed from their homes, few 
 of their fellow-slaves knowing of their intention to 
 escape. This secrecy was always necessary, for so 
 many of the slaves were untrustworthy about any- 
 thing concerning affairs about the plantation, deem- 
 ing it their duty to tell their masters anything about 
 
A BAD STAET. 57 
 
 one another they knew. In view of the fact of the 
 contemplated escape not being generally known, Joe's 
 suggestion was a wise one. All their things were 
 hid in the corn-field ; each one betook himself to his 
 respective abode, and went about his work as though 
 nothing unusual had happened. Joe did not make 
 his home with the Maxwells, being hired out by his 
 master. He had some distance to travel to reach the 
 place where he was hired. Being much fatigued, 
 upon reaching his home, he proceeded to his room in 
 the loft of the house, and had just thrown himself 
 upon his apology for a bed, which occupied a very 
 narrow space in the corner of the room, when his 
 master's voice summoned him to perform his daily 
 chores. 
 
 Joe arose with aching head and throbbing heart, 
 wondering whether the news of his attempted escape 
 had reached his master's ears. The escape had been 
 attempted Saturday night, so that they would have 
 the whole of Sunday for a start, all the boys, except- 
 ing Joe, having sought permission from their masters 
 to be absent on Sunday. It will be perceived by 
 this that they would have had a full night and a 
 day's start before being missed. It being Sunday, 
 Joe soon performed his chores, and put out for the 
 Maxwell homestead to see his mother. When he 
 entered the kitchen, Elva was engaged at her usual 
 occupation. Upon seeing him, she at once dropped 
 everything, and stood there gazing at her- son as 
 though he were an apparition. Eiva had spent nearly 
 
58 BOND AND FKEE. 
 
 all of the night, upon her knees, praying for the suc- 
 cessful escape of her sons. She had believed them 
 to be, at that time, a safe distance from the old planta- 
 tion. She did not utter a word, but her eyes con- 
 veyed her astonishment. Joe broke the silence by 
 asking if she had seen Henry. 
 
 "Seen Henry!" Elva replied, "No, honey, what 
 does this mean ? " 
 
 He, thereupon, told her of their traveling all night, 
 to find themselves, the next morning, in Biggers' 
 corn-field. Elva bent her head in silence, and, look- 
 ing up after a few seconds' meditation, rested her 
 large black eyes upon Joe, saying, 
 
 "Son, this must be all for the best. God had 
 something to do with this. The next time you'll 
 get away. Go home now, keep this to yourself, and 
 start again next Saturday night." 
 
 " Why," said Joe, " we was goin' to start agin to- 
 night." 
 
 "No," said Elva, "you would be missed in the 
 morning, and they would soon be upon your track, 
 and, perhaps, take you before you crossed the river. 
 Wait until next Saturday." 
 
 Whether it was fanaticism or superstition, Elva 
 was possessed with great confidence in the efficacy of 
 prayer. She had also reached a point in religious 
 fervor which, was termed among her friends, sanctifi- 
 cation ; she felt that she was sanctified, and that God 
 revealed to her many things to which the unholy 
 were entirely blind. This religious fervor, or fanati- 
 
A BAD START. 59 
 
 cisrn, brought her into prominence among her people. 
 When Sister, or Aunt, Elva bowed clown in prayer, 
 everything was hushed in silence. She prayed con- 
 stantly and persistently for the abolition of slavery. 
 She knew not how it would come, or when it would 
 come, but she contended that just as sure as the 
 children of Israel were led out of bondage, just so 
 sure would her people be free a prediction which 
 poor Elva lived not to see fulfilled. Yet it has come. 
 
 It seems almost incredible that this woman of bond- 
 age should have had so intelligent an understanding, 
 so appreciative a sense of the over-ruling power of 
 Providence, of the faithfulness with which His divine 
 predictions are carried out. But faith in God,, con- 
 fidence in His mercy, and trust in His power, are all 
 that kept up these poor creatures under the terrible 
 sufferings through which they passed. Ignorant as 
 they were of all other things, deprived of all light to 
 lead their simple minds to a more complete knowledge 
 of the creation of all men free and equal, robbed of 
 all their manhood and womanhood, they yet hoped, 
 trusted, and prayed. 
 
 Elva was one of those creatures, as we have said, 
 possessed of splendid natural endowments, in which 
 predominated the holy spirit. Such prayers as she 
 uttered were simply marvelous; the language with 
 which she expressed herself ; and the easy manner in 
 which it flowed from her lips, would have done 
 credit to many of our divines of to-day. Often she 
 would be found upon her knees in the midst of her 
 
60 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 work, sending up one of her fervent petitions to 
 Heaven, nor was Joe surprised when his mother 
 seized his hand and bade him kneel by her side. She 
 clasped her hands together, and her lips moved for 
 some moments. At last she arose, Joe saying, 
 " Amen! " and hastening away. 
 
 He went to the village of M , and there met 
 
 several of the party of the previous night. He com- 
 municated to them that the start would not be made 
 until later in the week, and that they were, in the 
 meantime, to arm themselves better and keep their 
 counsel. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE ESCAPE. 
 
 The point from which Joe and his companions had 
 made their unsuccessful attempt at escape was situ 
 ated some fifteen miles from the Potomac river, and 
 seven miles from the town of D . The inten- 
 tion was to reach the river before daylight, and, bj 
 the aid of a guide, who, they understood, would 
 be at the river, they would be assisted across into the 
 State of Maryland through which they would have 
 but a short distance to travel to get into Pennsyl- 
 vania, when they would be in a free State at least. 
 Kunaway slaves had been assisted across the Poto- 
 mac at various points, and directed by agents of what 
 was known as the Underground Railroad to freedom. 
 Numbers of them had also been betrayed by members 
 of their own race on both the Virginia and Mary- 
 land sides of the Potomac. At the point where Joe 
 and his companions were to cross, they had engaged 
 the services of a man by the name of Charles John- 
 son. Johnson belonged to a Mr. Kerwin, who owned 
 the only ferry-boat that crossed the river within 
 twenty miles of the place which they wanted to 
 reach. Mr. Kerwin possessed but a very small quota 
 of the large number of human beings held in bond- 
 age. Charles and a girl about sixteen years of age 
 were all he owned. He drove, however, a thriving 
 
 (61) 
 
62 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 business in catching runaway negroes and returning 
 them to their masters. 
 
 He had a very shrewd, but paying, way of con- 
 ducting this nefarious business capturing run- 
 aways and concealing them until a large reward was 
 offered, when he would produce them and de- 
 mand the reward. By this means, he had laid aside 
 quite a competency, but being of a very miserly dis- 
 position, carried on his negro-catching and ferrying, 
 taking passengers over at two cents a head. Instead 
 of investing his money in negroes, whom he feared 
 might run away from him, he hoarded up all the 
 wealth he could secure without making any invest- 
 ments. He had owned Charles for some time, and 
 had trained him in betraying and catching negroes 
 much as a shepherd trains his dog to catch runaway 
 sheep. Charles, whenever opportunity presented, got 
 into the secrets of all the slaves he could ; and, under 
 pretense of assisting and guiding them safely over 
 the river, would betray them into the hands of 
 " niger-catchers " 
 
 This is the man with whom arrangements had been 
 made to conduct Joe and his party across the river 
 on the night of their unsuccessful attempt to escape. 
 Johnson had informed his master that several run- 
 aways were to cross the river under his direction, 
 and Mr. Kerwin, with his usual readiness, had secured 
 the services of several men who loaned or hired them- 
 selves out as a nigger-catchers." But, by the guidance 
 of some power unknown to themselves even, Joe and 
 
THE ESCAPE. 63 
 
 his companions, as we know, were kept from walking 
 into the lion's jaws. After traveling all night, in 
 place of being in the hands of " nigger catchers," they 
 found themselves standing in Biggers' corn-field gaz- 
 ing at a white bull. 
 
 When Sam Lowrie, who formed one of the party, 
 related this to Joe, he was, with his friends, quite over- 
 come with joy. Then he thought of the narrow es- 
 cape from capture they had made and of his mother's 
 words. Perhaps Elva's prayers for protection had 
 been answered, perhaps not ; but the result speaks 
 for itself. 
 
 The personnel of the little band of heroes, since a 
 week ago, when they attempted to escape, is consider- 
 ably changed. Some had refused to make another 
 effort, thinking they would be captured; while others 
 thought their lucky escape from Johnson, the betrayer, 
 and Mr. Kerwin, the ferryman, was ominous, and, 
 being naturally superstitious, declined all overtures 
 to make another attempt. The only ones of the 
 original band were Joe and his brother, Henry. The 
 number had been reduced to five. The change of 
 men was also decidedly in their favor, as every man 
 was a fighting man, and one in particular, Ben Myers, 
 was noted throughout the neighborhood for his wonder- 
 ful strength. Myers was quite a character, being in 
 stature a modern Goliah, with exceedingly large feet, 
 large hands, and very large lips, the latter so much 
 so that they interfered greatly with his articulation. 
 His speech was thick, his language bad, and, being 
 
64 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 fond of whisky, he was a bad customer to come in 
 contact with at this particular time. The time hav- 
 ing arrived for the start, Joe bade farewell to his 
 mother and sisters. Accompanied by his friends, he 
 set out upon his perilous journey. They traveled 
 along the road for several miles unmolested, and 
 when within about five miles of the ferry, they saw 
 at a distance, approaching them, a single horseman. 
 
 As Mr. Johnson had come near betraying them be- 
 fore, the services of that worthy had not been en- 
 gaged ; indeed, every precaution had been taken to 
 conceal all knowledge of their departure. The in- 
 tention was to capture the ferry-boat and ferry them- 
 selves across, knowing that no one but Johnson and 
 his master, who resided some half-mile from the ferry, 
 would be likely to interfere with them. In case of 
 such interference, either one or both of those gentle- 
 men would be easily disposed of. When this lone 
 horseman was discovered, Joe gave the order, " Over 
 the fence, boys ! " They ali obeyed, leaving Joe in 
 the road. As the horseman approached, Joe dis- 
 covered that it was no less a person than the identi- 
 cal Charles Johnson, the negro betrayer. He quietly 
 awaited Johnson's approach. When Johnson had 
 reached him, he stepped out in front of the horse, and 
 commanded the rider to halt. 
 
 Mr. Johnson did not know who Joe was, and was 
 thus at a disadvantage ; as he had no idea of any 
 violence being meant him, he drew up his horse in 
 obedience to the command. Joe ordered him to dis- 
 
THE ESCAPE. t)5 
 
 mount, which command he was somewhat slow in 
 obeying. Joe, seeing that he hesitated, drew from his 
 pocket one of those long-barrelled pistols, which he 
 presented at Johnson's head, and again commanded 
 him to dismount. Johnson looked down the barrel 
 of the pistol, then looked at Joe, and seeing nothing 
 but a very wicked and determined look in his eye, 
 concluded he had better dismount, or this determined- 
 looking man might make a target of him, a thing he 
 had no desire for, as he was on his way to see his 
 best girl. Arriving speedily at this conclusion, he 
 quickly dismounted. Having alighted from his horse, 
 he began to wonder whether the man. who stood be- 
 fore him meant to steal his master's horse, or whether 
 he was playing him a joke. His mind was soon re- 
 lieved. 
 
 Joe gave a low whistle. Over the fence leaped four 
 as stalwart and burly negroes as ever his eye beheld, 
 and whose combined value would have made the 
 heart of any "nigger-catcher" bound with joy. Joe 
 said, as the men made their appearance : 
 
 " Boys, this is Kerwin's Johnson, and he will take 
 us across the river." 
 
 Johnson looked somewhat amazed at this remark, 
 as well he might, so positively and coolly was it made. 
 He began, however, to set his wits, to work at once. 
 Suspecting these men to be runaway slaves, he knew 
 that if he could but devise some plan to get away 
 from them and secure assistance, they could all be 
 captured. 
 
66 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 Assuming the guise of a friend, he said : "Boys, 
 you lay by in de field until I go on to town on dis 
 errand Mars Kerwin has sent me, and when I come 
 back, I'll take you across all safe." 
 
 Johnson's intention was too evident to Joe, who 
 quickly said, 
 
 "No, no, my boy, you can't mount dis hoss again, 
 and you can't go to town until you take us across de 
 river. I'se going to ride dis hoss myself, and you 
 will move right down to de river." 
 
 At this, he jumped into the saddle, and turned the 
 horse around. Johnson was placed in front of the 
 party, and in this order the procession moved in the 
 direction o'f the river. 
 
 Having reached the river, Johnson was asked how 
 he was going to get them across. They agreed to 
 give him a half dollar for each man. He saw he 
 was entrapped, but he again resorted to strategy. 
 
 He said that there was no boat that could be 
 secured, unless they would go down to where the 
 ferry was. 
 
 Whereupon, Joe asked how far away was the ferry. 
 
 '"Bout half-mile," said Johnson. 
 
 "Now look here, Johnson," said Joe, shaking his 
 finger at the man in a warning manner, "you have 
 got to git us across dis river, and we want to cross 
 right here, so you just go git a boat and bring it 
 here." 
 
 Johnson was again frustrated, so he said : " I doesn't 
 know but one place to git a boat, and dat's just above 
 
THE ESCAPE. 67 
 
 here ; but de man has two dogs and I'se afraid we 
 might git caught. Howsomever, if you say so, I'll 
 try and git the boat." 
 
 "All right," said Joe, "I'll trust you to go forde 
 boat, but mind you, 110 fooling." 
 
 Johnson started for the boat The men stared at 
 Joe, much surprised that Johnson was allowed to go 
 alone. They were directed to conceal themselves 
 among the rocks. Nothing had been said to John- 
 son to lead him to suspect that they knew he was a 
 betrayer, and this seeming confidence partially dis- 
 armed him. While he would have liked to have 
 been instrumental in their capture, he unhesitatingly 
 went and secured a boat, breaking it from its moor- 
 ings. 
 
 In a short time, the men heard the barking of the 
 dogs, and Joe said: "Boys, he's there." 
 
 One of them suggested that, perhaps, he was re- 
 turning with the dogs to capture them. Joe replied 
 that neither him nor the dogs would return alive if 
 that was the case. Soon there was heard the splash 
 of oars in the water; they looked out from their place 
 of concealment, and discovered Johnson in the boat 
 alone. He whistled, and they picked their way down 
 the bank and entered the boat. 
 
 There was but one man in the whole party who 
 had ever seen a boat, and he was the Widow Dean's 
 Jim. Jim, having traveled considerably with his 
 mistress, had seen many things which none of the 
 rest had. Some of my readers might just here want 
 
68 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 to know why a man, having the privileges of Jim, 
 should want to leave a mistress so kind and indul- 
 gent as the Widow Dean, and go out into the world 
 to assume responsibilities of which, by remaining in 
 slavery, he need never have known. He left a good 
 home, a generous-hearted mistress. He knew no care ; 
 every day to him was the same. He had never been 
 whipped, it is true, and so far as his life had gone, it 
 had been a pleasant one ; but Jim, nevertheless, real- 
 ized that, with all these advantages so superior to 
 hundreds whom he knew, he was but a slave and 
 could be sold at any time, and doubtless would be 
 sold as a part of the estate when his good mistress 
 should die. So he thought he would risk all the 
 perils of running away to be a free man. Oh, free- 
 dom, what a boon ! 
 
 Under Jim's direction, they were safely conveyed 
 over the river. As they stepped upon the Maryland 
 shore, they breathed more easily, although they were 
 far from being in a free land. 
 
 Johnson was paid the promised fee of fifty cents 
 a man, which he greedily pocketed. He had ascer- 
 tained, while crossing the river, that the runaways did 
 not know what direction to take. This he suspected 
 from the start Upon arriving on the Maryland side, 
 he conceived the brilliant idea in his woolly head 
 that he would have ample chance of carrying out his 
 evil design of betraying his unfortunate brethern. 
 He had done the same thing before, and he was con- 
 fident that he could do it again. This is what made 
 
THE ESCAPE. 69 
 
 him go so submissively and get the boat, without 
 arousing the owner ; it was that which made him so 
 civil and so talkative while crossing the river. The 
 brilliant, but not new, idea which struck Mr. Johnson 
 was, to land his party safely on the Maryland shore, 
 and send them in the direction of a tavern kept by a 
 Mr. Nagle, who attached to his business of caring for 
 travelers, both man and beast, the prolific business 
 of capturing runaway slaves. Many a runaway slave 
 had been captured by Mr. Nagle (and his coterie of 
 loafers who always hung about his place), and re- 
 turned to their masters, then sold South. 
 
 Johnson felt perfectly secure in the belief that his 
 civility had thrown Joe and his party off their guard, 
 and thought it would be an easy matter to direct 
 them in the course which he desired. The party hav- 
 ing landed, Joe said : 
 
 "Now, boys, what road shall we take?" 
 
 Without waiting for any one else to answer, John- 
 son said, 
 
 " Why, I can tell you just what way to go. See 
 dat road dat leads up yonder? Well, just foller it 
 until you'se come to de Cross-Keys tavern, den 
 you'se take de road dat turns to de left, and you'll 
 reach de mountain." 
 
 Now, this was literally true, as it was the most di- 
 rect course to the mountain. But there was as little 
 show for these men to pass the Cross Keys tavern 
 without being molested as it is possible for the per- 
 formance of miracles by mortal man. Johnson knew 
 
70 BOXD AND FREE. 
 
 this very well, and repeated his instructions over 
 again, evidently fearing they might not be heeded. 
 Joe assured him that they were very grateful for his 
 advice, and, in rather a persuasive manner, suggested 
 that he had better take his boat and start for home. 
 The latter said that he did not intend to return the 
 boat to its owner, but, upon reaching his home, would 
 set it adrift. 
 
 The men began to grow impatient at the delay 
 caused by Joe and Johnson's conversation, and insist- 
 ed upon moving on. Joe did not comply with their 
 request, for he was determined to see Johnson well 
 out in the river before he made any attempt to leave 
 the bank. He had already decided to take a differ- 
 ent direction from the one indicated by Johnson, but 
 he desired to leave that worthy under the impression 
 that implicit confidence was placed in his word. Ben 
 Myers, to whom we have had occasion to refer before, 
 was impatiently walking up and down the river bank 
 growling like a caged beast. That portion of Mr. 
 Myers' body which rested on the ground was encased 
 in a very dilapidated pair of brogans, which were un- 
 fastened, while on his arm he carried a very large and 
 heavy pair of new boots. His inseparable whisky 
 bottle was beginning to grow empty, and he was much 
 afraid that he would be taken with a dry spell before 
 they reached the tavern. He took off the dilapidated 
 straw hat which covered his head, raised his bottle 
 to his lips, and drained the last drop of its contents 
 down his throat. Smacking his lips with evident sat- 
 
THE ESCAPE. 71 
 
 isfaction and drawing the back of his hand across his 
 mouth, he was then in an excellent disposition to 
 growl. 
 
 So he said, in his thick speech : 
 
 "' Look har, Joe, if you gwine to trabel any f udder, 
 why don't you come on ? You'se worse den a fly 
 'round lasses." "Myers," said Joe, " dem old shoes 
 and dat whisky bottle will git you into trouble yet" 
 
 Myers gazed at Joe in a stupid kind of way, and 
 replied: " Dat's all right, I'se gwine to git dat bottle 
 filled soon's I git to dat tabern, and I wants to git 
 darsoon." 
 
 Johnson had not yet gotten into his boat, and Joe 
 was somewhat at a loss what to do. Seeing that their 
 guide was loath to part with them, he said : 
 
 "Johnson, I think, as we are done with you, you 
 had better cross de river. If you dont start soon, 
 day light will catch you, and somebody will see you 
 with dat stolen boat." 
 
 Johnson knew this was true. He had no desire to be 
 caught with a stolen boat, for if he failed to entrap 
 these runaways, he might have difficulty in explain- 
 ing his absence and the use he had been making of 
 the boat. So telling Joe that he guessed he was right, 
 Mr. Johnson very loathfully parted company with 
 the party, and began to row himself back into slavery, 
 where he would be useful in betraying those of his 
 race, whom he would be fortunate enough to meet 
 while running for freedom. 
 
 Joe watched the boat until it was well out into the 
 
72 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 river, and turning to his companions, he said, "Boys, 
 we will not pass dat tabern, for if we do, we may all 
 be captured. I heard of dat place before." 
 
 These remarks brought about a disagreement ; 
 Henry, Joe's brother, insisted on going the direction 
 pointed out by Johnson. In this he was ably second 
 ed by Myers, whose desire to reach the tavern and 
 fill his bottle over-reached the little discretion he po- 
 sessed. Joe finally covninced them of the foolhardi- 
 ness of such a thing, and consequently carried his 
 point 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 ATTACKED. 
 
 The reader cannot help but discover by this time, 
 that, as a leader, Joe was quite a success, using a vast 
 amount of tact and forethought for which the casual 
 observer would never have given him credit He 
 was probably the most determined one in the whole 
 party upon securing freedom. His brother, Henry, 
 was, on the other hand, timid and shy, lacking the 
 resolution which Joe possessed ; but, when awakened 
 to a full realization of what was expected of him, 
 never hesitated to perform his duty. 
 
 Mr. Nagle, the keeper of the Cross Keys tavern, 
 kept upon his place, to assist him in tracking and 
 catching runaway slaves, besides a number of loafers 
 ever ready to engage in this nefarious business, two 
 keen -scented and ferocious bloodhounds, and had Joe 
 given way to the importunities of Henry and Myers, 
 every one of the party would have been captured by 
 Mr. Nagle, his loafers, and his bloodhounds. As it 
 was, they took a different direction, and traveled 
 through the State of Maryland without a single excit- 
 ing incident Having crossed the Pennsylvania line 
 and after having traveled, perhaps, some thirty-odd 
 miles, they left the road for consultation. Retiring into 
 a woods, they discussed the question of traveling by 
 daylight; they had hitherto been traveling only at 
 
 (73) 
 
74 BOND AND FKEE. 
 
 night, and during the day had concealed themselves. 
 It was finally decided to travel by day, as they were 
 in Pennsylvania, which, they understood, was a free 
 State, and the likelihood of being molested did not 
 give them any apprehension. 
 
 Now, could these men have had recourse to those 
 great resources of information, the newspapers, or if 
 they could have kept track of the political events of 
 the day, they would have been more apprehensive of 
 their safety in this presumably free State. This is 
 not a record of political events, and we shall not 
 undertake to give any detailed account of the steps 
 which led to the enactment of a law, making every 
 white man of the North a blood hound and negro- 
 hunter for the white men of the South. The Consti- 
 tution of the country was prostituted for more than 
 a century by the men who favored, supported, and 
 encouraged slavery. Those high in authority, who 
 submitted to the demands of the South, in her vigor- 
 ous efforts to extend and protect slavery, have long 
 since met with the just condemnation of all honest 
 men. The effort to make the people of the North 
 servants to the people of the South, in aiding them 
 to secure their runaway slaves, was only too success- 
 ful ; and, when the free people of this great country 
 found that the man holding the highest position in 
 the gift of the Nation was an abettor and sympa- 
 thizer in the extension and protection of slavery, they 
 shed many bitter tears. The Fugitive Slave Act, 
 which permitted a man to prove his property in any 
 
ATTACKED. 75 
 
 part of the United States and take it, also making 
 the man who refused to aid in this nefarious business 
 a criminal before the law, was now in existence. 
 When the Old World learned of the birth of a New 
 Nation, there was great rejoicing. Its still, small 
 voice was heard to proclaim that " every man was 
 born free and equal," yet it took nearly a century and 
 a bloody civil contest to establish firmly its first pro- 
 nunciamento. 
 
 We say, had these fugitives been acquainted with 
 the political events of the country, they would not 
 have been surprised at experiencing their first repulse 
 in free Pennsylvania. 
 
 Having already gotten some distance within the 
 borders of the State without molestation, they traveled 
 along in gay spirits, their minds fixed upon gaining 
 liberty. At a considerable distance ahead of them, 
 they saw several men engaged in building a barn. 
 Joe at once directed them to answer any question put 
 to them as to their destination by saying, that they 
 were bound for the springs as waiters. They ap- 
 proached the barn-builders fearlessly, and, upon reach- 
 ing them, were asked by one of the workmen where 
 they were going. Joe, in reply, answered, "To de 
 springs to wait table, sar." 
 
 There were, perhaps, some twenty men engaged at 
 work upon the barn. It was what is called a build- 
 ing-bee an economical plan farmers had of expedi- 
 ting work. Working bees of all kinds were numer- 
 ous. Moving-bees, corn-husking, fruit-parings, etc., 
 
76 BOND AND FKEE. 
 
 were done by a farmer inviting his neighbors to 
 assist him. When the work was finished, a big din- 
 ner was served, and the country lass and lad would 
 help digestion by a good old-fashioned dance. Joe's 
 answer to the question of the workmen appeared to 
 satisfy them. 
 
 Among the few privileges enjoyed by some slaves 
 was that of hiring their own time from their masters ; 
 in such cases, they were permitted to seek employ- 
 ment at whatever they saw fit to engage. Many of 
 them were employed at the various summer resorts 
 as waiters, and would travel on foot in search of em- 
 ployment To their masters they paid so much of 
 their earnings as was demanded of them, and the 
 rest was spent, generally, in riotous living, but in a 
 few instances was used to purchase their freedom. 
 
 Having passed the barn-builders unmolested, they 
 had proceeded but a short distance when they were 
 overtaken by a man seated upon a gray horse. The 
 individual accosted them with a salutation. He was 
 tall and lank, with a dark complexion, a nose much 
 resembling the beak of a bird, a pair of exceedingly 
 long limbs, which dangled below the body of the 
 horse. His eyes were perfectly gray, while his lip 
 appeared as though drawn up to meet his nose, ex- 
 posing two very large teeth, and giving him the ap- 
 pearance of a hungry jackal, while his dress was that 
 of a sheep drover. Drawing in the lines which hung 
 on the pommel of his saddle, he inquired where they 
 were going. Joe gave him the same reply he had 
 
ATTACKED. 77 
 
 given the barn-builders, but did not get rid of him 
 quite so easily. 
 
 The rider eyed them closely, as he said : "Ain't you 
 rather early for the springs? " 
 
 Joe answered : "Yes, sar, a little early, but we want 
 to be in good time." 
 
 " Where are you from? " asked the stranger. 
 
 "Philadelphia," replied Joe. 
 
 Now, where Joe got his knowledge of Philadel- 
 phia, it is hard to say ; unless from the fact that he 
 was told that they were on the Philadelphia pike. 
 The geographical knowledge of the entire party could 
 not have located any such place. Henry, who had 
 been standing to one side of the road eyeing the 
 rider's horse, and noticing it to be somewhat lame, 
 came forward, and said : 
 
 " Your horse's got a ringbone." 
 
 "Yes," said the rider, "and I would give a hun- 
 dred dollars to have it cured." 
 
 "I can cure it," said Henry. 
 
 " Then you are the man I am looking for. I will 
 pay your expenses at the next inn, and give you 
 twenty -five dollars in the bargain if you cure him." 
 
 Henry had a fair knowledge of horses, and was 
 not making a vain boast when he told the stranger 
 that lie could cure the horse. 
 
 Joe was a listener to the conversation, and was 
 afraid his brother would stop to accept the offer. He 
 was not altogether pleased with the man's manner, 
 as he had, generally, but little confidence in white men. 
 
78 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 He held his peace, however, but concluded not to 
 allow his brother to accept the man's proposition. 
 Joe finally said, after having walked some distance, 
 the rider keeping his horse at a walking pace: 
 
 " Ain't you a sheep drover? " 
 
 " Yes," said the man. " Why? " 
 
 " Oh, nothing, only I thought so from de clothes 
 you wear." 
 
 This was not what Joe really thought, for after 
 having closely inspected the man, it came to him like 
 a dream that he had seen him before. He had seen 
 this very man purchasing sheep from a man with 
 whom he once lived, and he knew that in addition 
 to driving sheep he also drove slaves, that he had 
 caught a number of runaway slaves, for which he 
 had been well rewarded. 
 
 The man on horse back then said: " Don't you men 
 want to make a little money ? You are a little early 
 for the springs, and I want about a half-dozen men 
 to help me to gather some sheep through the country 
 and drive them to market. If you want the job, I 
 will pay each of you fifty cents a day." 
 
 Joe knew that the man was only talking to pass 
 the time, as they were fast nearing a little village 
 where, he surmised, it was the intention of the stran- 
 ger to obtain assistance and endeavor to capture them. 
 
 Answering for the party, he said: " No, sar, we 
 want to keep on trabelin', and don't want to stop." 
 Whereupon, the stranger said: "Well, good day," 
 and galloped off at a rapid pace, his legs dangling on 
 
ATTACKED. 79 
 
 either side of his horse. They saw him stop at some 
 distance ahead of them and engage in conversation 
 with a woman standing at a gate. When the party 
 got within hearing distance of the rider and woman, 
 they heard the stranger say, " Tell them to come on 
 as fast as they can, and meet me at the Lion's Head." 
 
 Joe said : " Boys, dar's trouble ahead. We can't 
 leave de road ; dar's a town ahead, and we must pass 
 through it, so git ready to fight." 
 
 The irascible Mr. Myers, the gentleman of large 
 feet, large hands, and large mouth, with a large love 
 for the ardent, had been discontented and greatly out 
 of humor ever since Joe's refusal to pass Mr. Nagle's 
 hostelrie. His bottle had been emptied for some 
 time, and the desire for something more ardent than 
 water had put him in very bad humor, making him 
 very ugly. He still carried his new boots thrown 
 carelessly over his shoulder, while his stringless, 
 tongueless, and thoroughly dilapidated shoes partly 
 covered his enormous feet. 
 
 When Joe said they would have to fight, Myers 
 growled out, " Ise gwine to hab dis bottle filled at 
 dat tabrn, if I has to walk ober de body ob some 
 'white man to git it." 
 
 Joe again repeated his warning that Myers' bottle 
 and shoes would yet get him in trouble. 
 
 "Never mind me, honey," was his reply. "No 
 white man's gwine to weary dese bones widout hearin' 
 dem crack." As Myers said this he took a hitch at 
 his pantaloons, rolled an enormous quid of tobacco to 
 
80 BOND AND FKEE. 
 
 the other side of his capacious mouth, and, with the 
 swing of a rollicking tar, proceeded rapidly in 
 silence, with but a single thought disturbing his 
 rather stupid mind. That thought was to reach the 
 inn as speedily as possible and get his bottle filled. 
 
 The village which the runaways were approaching 
 could hardly be termed such, as it consisted only of 
 a tavern, a blacksmith's shop, and some five or six 
 houses. The Lion's Head inn stood back several feet 
 from the road. In front of it was a watering- trough 
 and a long rail used for hitching horses. At one end 
 was a mounting-stone ; and a short distance from this 
 was one of the few houses. The blacksmith shop 
 stood between the Lion's Head and a lane which had 
 to be passed before reaching the inn, coming from the 
 direction in which the runaways were. When they 
 reached the smith's shop, the stranger had left the 
 smith and his helper, having rode on to the inn, where 
 he dismounted, and went inside, engaging in conver- 
 sation with the inn-keeper. Joe was in the lead and 
 would have kept right on, believing that the stranger, 
 in stopping to speak to the woman and the smith, 
 had concocted a plan for their capture. As he passed 
 the inn door, the stranger who had accosted them on 
 the road stepped to the door and hailed the party, 
 asking them in to take something to drink. None 
 of them, except Joe, needed the second invitation. 
 He remained outside, while the rest entered the inn. 
 The stranger called to him to come in, but he refused, 
 saying that he did not drink. 
 
ATTACKED. 81 
 
 Mr. Myers' face was wreathed in smiles, as he tossed 
 off several good stiff drinks of old corn- juice. Whis- 
 ky was cheap then. A man could get three drinks of 
 better liquor for the same amount that he has to pay 
 now for one. Myers did not neglect to fill his bottle, 
 which he stowed away in a pocket of his dilapidated 
 coat. After drinking, they all stood upon the little 
 balcony which surrounded the inn. The stranger 
 who had shown such kindness stepped out upon the 
 balcony and said to Henry: "Now, my young man, 
 show me how to cure that ringbone." Henry walked 
 out to the horse, and began to display his knowledge 
 of curing the ills of dumb animals. Joe walked out 
 into the road, and, as he looked toward the black- 
 smith's shop, he saw the smith and his assistant 
 armed with' stout pieces of iron, while up the road 
 came about a dozen men provided with sticks, clubs, 
 stones, and whatever other implements they could 
 procure. 
 
 He shouted, "Boys, look behind you!" Henry- 
 glanced over his shoulder, at once dropped the horse's 
 foot, and made a break for the road. Joe took to a 
 field, and the rest of the runaways scattered in differ- 
 ent directions. Liquor had so far overcome the 
 senses of Myers that he was grabbed by the affable 
 stranger, the rider of the ringbone horse, who in- 
 formed him that he was a runaway and he was going 
 to return him to his master. Myers partly opened 
 his eves, and was rather slow in taking in the situa- 
 
82 BOND AXD FKEE. 
 
 tion. He had, however, retained his hold upon his 
 club, which he grasped more firmly, and said : 
 "Look, heah, white man, let me go." 
 The rider of the ringbone horse said: "Yes, 
 I'll let you go, you d d nigger," and, as if to 
 assure Myers of his attention, tightened his grip on 
 his collar. Myers raised his club and brought it 
 down on the arm of his captor. The rider of the 
 ringbone horse relinquished his hold without being 
 told the second time, and that member of his anatomy 
 dropped limp and lifeless at his side, while he gave 
 utterance to a howl which would have done justice to 
 a cayote. Myers put off at a rapid rate, with stones 
 flying after him, and all the dogs and men in the 
 place close upon his heels. His slipshod shoes and 
 the whisky he had imbibed greatly retarded his 
 progress. He ran very swiftly, however, and, reach- 
 ing a hill, he attempted to ascend it, but lost his foot- 
 ing and fell. In a moment a half-dozen men were 
 upon him; they quickly secured and bound him 
 with a rope, and marched him back to the inn trium- 
 phantly. 
 
 He was placed upon a bench at the door, while his 
 captors withdrew to decide how to dispose of him. 
 They knew that a large reward would be offered for 
 him, for he was worth fully fifteen or eighteen hun- 
 dred of any man's money. Sam Ely the, a big-boned, 
 double- jointed fellow, had been left to do guard duty 
 over Myers. Blythe walked up and down in front of 
 him, thinking he was so securely bound that he would 
 
ATTACKED. 83 
 
 not attempt to escape, and depended upon his own 
 ability to prevent him should he make any such at- 
 tempt. Seeing the captive move about rather uneasily, 
 he walked up to Myers, and said : 
 
 " See here, nigger, none of yer shines around here. 
 If you don't keep quiet, I will thump your head. 
 Do ye hear?" 
 
 Myers said nothing, but jumped to his feet, with 
 a superhuman effort freed his hands, and dealt Blythe 
 a blow that sent that worthy sprawling into the road, 
 and made him swallow a quid of tobacco that came 
 near choking him to death. With a bound like a 
 deer, Myers made for the nearest field and cleared the 
 fence, having left his much-worn shoes on the hotel 
 porch as a memento for the disappointed "nigger- 
 catchers." 
 
 Leaving our band of runaways to proceed on their 
 journey to freedom, after this escapade, separated 
 and divided as they now were, let us return to the 
 Maxwell plantation, and see what changes the fickle 
 goddess of fortune has wrought. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 Two HAPPY FATHEKS. 
 
 Events on the Maxwell plantation now begin to 
 change, as events will in life. Jonathan continued 
 prosperous and successful, the loss of Joe and Henry 
 soured his disposition and aroused a spirit of hatred 
 toward his half-sister, Purcey, whom he believed had 
 aided and abetted in the escape of her brothers. At 
 one time, he had partly made up his mind to sell 
 Purcey, but the prospect of her giving birth to a 
 child at an early period deterred him in his intention. 
 Had he not married her to William McCullar for this 
 very purpose? It was not likely, then, that Jona- 
 than Maxwell would allow his hatred of the girl to 
 exceed his love of increased wealth. 
 
 Large rewards had been offered for both Joe and 
 Henry, but in vain, as they had both made good their 
 escape into freedom. Notwithstanding the great 
 val ue they were to their master, Jonathan never con- 
 descended to mention to Purcey or Elva his feelings, 
 but had put them through a most searching investi- 
 gation as to their knowledge of the runaways. Both 
 so successfully pleaded ignorance as to their where- 
 abouts or any knowledge of the intention of the boys 
 to escape, that he soon gave up the idea of learning 
 anything from them. He, however, as we have said, 
 
 (84) 
 
THE HAPPY FATHERS. 85 
 
 offered a handsome reward for their capture, and, in 
 company with Mr. Biggers and the others who were 
 the losers of so many dollars and cents, by the sudden 
 and unceremonious departure of their alleged prop- 
 erty, organized a "nigger" hunting party. Accom- 
 panied by several blood hounds, they set out in 
 speedy but useless pursuit. The runaways had such 
 a start that they were far out of reach of their pur- 
 suers, even before they got under way. The party 
 returned home in a few days, after the unsuccessful 
 effort to capture the runaways, and Jonathan Max- 
 well settled down to make up for the loss of Joe and 
 Henry as best he could. Mr. Biggers cursed louder 
 and drove his slaves harder, while their meager rations 
 reached almost ad infinitum. 
 
 William and Purcey enjoyed life, happy in each 
 other's society, indeed, forgetting all about the hard- 
 ness of their lot, and utterly oblivious of the fact 
 that nothing of them was free except their souls. 
 Their time, their bodies, it seemed their very happi- 
 ness, belonged to Jonathan Maxwell ; and they must 
 act in obedience to his commands whenever he saw 
 fit now to exercise his prerogative as master. He 
 believed within his heart that Purcey, or her mother, 
 had been instrumental in the escape of the two boys, 
 and he concluded that to leave William upon the 
 place subject to such influence would ultimately re- 
 sult in his escape also. Not wishing to sell him just 
 at this time, he resorted to the next most profitable 
 
86 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 thing, and hired him out some distance from home to 
 a severe master. 
 
 Jake Withers, to whom William was hired, was the 
 rival of Abraham Biggers in meanness and cruelty. 
 He was known to be so conniving and penurious as to 
 have picked up a few grains of wheat found in the 
 field after cutting, and put them into his pocket until 
 he reached the granary. He was known to have kicked 
 a little negro child over a four rail fence, because of 
 its plucking a few flowers out of his garden. He had 
 not as much feeling for a negro as he had for a mule. 
 He allowed those about him no holidays. Over those 
 whom he hired from other masters he had complete 
 control, and those whom he owned belonged to him, 
 in his estimation, body and soul. William was now 
 made to feel, for the first time, what it was to be mar- 
 ried and yet have no wife. He was several miles 
 from Purcey, and could only visit her after finishing 
 his work at night, and was compelled to be back at 
 his post before day -break. The first bitter dregs of 
 his cup of woe he began to taste. His wife, night 
 after night, lay awake watching the hours, while he 
 obtained a short rest preparatory to his return to his 
 labors. More than a year had now passed since their 
 marriage, and Providence saw fit to bless, or, in a 
 sense, curse them with a son. William, entirely un- 
 mindful of his situation, felt that natural pride ex- 
 perienced by most fathers over their first-born. 
 About the same time, Jonathan Maxwell also be- 
 came the father of a son ; but his happiness, having 
 
THE HAPPY FATHERS. 87 
 
 wealth and freedom, did not exceed that of William 
 McCullar in poverty and bondage. 
 
 Purcey became the nurse of Jonathan's offspring, 
 as custom decreed. No lady of Southern blood ever 
 condescended to raise her own child. On the con- 
 trary, it was invariably entrusted to the care of a 
 negro nurse, who suckled it from her breast with all 
 the tenderness of a mother ; and she was expected to 
 rear and mature with care the very child that would, 
 perhaps, some day raise its hands to stripe her back, 
 or set a price upon her head, and sell her as it would 
 any other chattel. It might have been among the 
 many providential things for this child of Jonathan 
 Maxwell to have suckled some of the milk of human 
 kindness from the bosom of this black nurse. It seems 
 that nature itself would have engrafted some of the 
 seeds of human love for her who so tenderly nour- 
 ished it, watched over it, and relieved its mother of 
 all the cares of its early childhood. But this was 
 custom, this was duty : what Purcey did for Jona- 
 than's child Elva had done for Jonathan ; and thou- 
 sands of the most cruel slave-holders have been 
 reared at the breast of those whom they afterward 
 made suffer the tortures of slavery. There have 
 been those in this world who have been called in- 
 grates, but what shall we call those who fed upon the 
 bosom of a human being, suckled themselves into 
 existence, were nursed with tenderness and care, then 
 striped the back which bent so often over them in 
 anxiety ? 
 
88 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 William McCullar, the slave-father, gave to his 
 child the promise of an inheritance of servitude, of 
 serving a living master, deprived of manhood, de- 
 prived of knowledge, with no hope for the present, 
 and in future life, perhaps, to curse bittterly the 
 mother that gave him birth ; while Jonathan Max- 
 well, the free father, gave to his child the inheritance 
 of a rich estate, knowledge, bright hopes for the 
 future, with possibly no care for the past. Such are 
 the circumstances under which these two children enter 
 the world. But an over-ruling Providence guided 
 the footsteps of the one, while an over-ruling passion 
 directed those of the other ; and their lives were as 
 entirely diversified as was their birth. It will be re- 
 membered that Elva had interposed but a single ob- 
 jection to the marriage of Purcey, and when you re- 
 member the excellent judgment of the woman, her 
 objection will not be looked upon as unreasonable. 
 Objections are often raised by parents against their 
 daughters' entering into the bonds of matrimony, and 
 often are they well founded ; but in few instances are 
 they respected. With Elva it was no vain thought. 
 It was not because she feared an unequal match, but, 
 as she told William when he informed her of his 
 purchase by Jonathan Maxwell, that she detested 
 the idea of such a marriage, because his children 
 would be born slaves. This is why she objected; 
 and from the day it took place, she constantly kept 
 before Purcey the horrifying idea of Master Jona- 
 than's changing disposition, which might lead to his 
 
THE HAPPY FATHERS. 89 
 
 separating the mother and child by selling one or 
 the other. And well she might, for it was not long 
 before a most unusual change took place in the Max- 
 well household. 
 
 Mrs. Maxwell's health began to fail her after the 
 birth of her son, and the family physician directed 
 that she travel. Purcey was selected to accompany 
 her, and attend young Master Archie. This was the 
 command, and nothing was left her but to obey. Her 
 child, her husband, and her mother all had to be 
 left that her mistress might find restored health in 
 another clime. All preparations were made for the 
 journey, and bidding farewell to all that was dear to 
 her, Purcey set out upon the journey with her mis- 
 tress. Mrs. Maxwell's failing health did not improve 
 her disposition, which was none of the sweetest at 
 best, and the many annoyances she gave Purcey 
 caused the girl to shed many a bitter tear. While 
 upon this journey, she determined, upon her return, 
 to make her escape with her husband and child into 
 freedom. 
 
 Master Archie grew into a bright-eyed, yellow- 
 haired, spiteful little fellow, developing rnuch of his 
 father's haughtiness and pride, and all of his mother's 
 hatefulness. To his nurse he was impudent, and 
 often, in a passion, struck her with his little fist, an 
 offense for which Purcey dared not correct him, and 
 at which his mother only laughed. They were absent 
 for many months, which seemed to Purcey years, 
 and when Mrs. Maxwell, feeling that her health was 
 
90 BOND AND FKEE. 
 
 greatly improved, set her face toward home, Purcey's 
 heart leaped for joy. Her long separation from her 
 husband and child made her feel keenly what misery 
 would be hers should either be sold. Consolation 
 came to her, however, under the present circum- 
 stances, as a sweetened draught, from the fact that 
 she would soon see them. 
 
 During her long absence, she had no communica- 
 tion whatever, from her child or husband. No letters 
 had come to assure her of their health and love, not 
 even a word. For while Purcey could manage to 
 write intelligibly herself, she knew that there was no 
 one at home to read her letters to William. Who 
 can imagine what this feeling must be, separated from 
 those we love most dear, knowing that the means of 
 communication are accessible, but from the want of 
 the knowledge to interpret one's thoughts and feel- 
 ings, to be comparatively consumed in the fire of de- 
 sire for a message, but a word, to receive or give, 
 but a single sign of the inward passion ! Confine 
 a person in prison where the custom deprives 
 him of intercourse with the outside world, he 
 gradually submits to such restriction ; but when left 
 to enjoy the open air, to gaze upon the brightness 
 and the beauty of nature, free to breathe the balmy air 
 of Heaven, yet unable to communicate with those he 
 loves, there is a suffering which words cannot depict 
 This was one of the few sufferings through which 
 Purcey passed. Strong and proud as she was, it 
 weakened her and brought her to a keener realiza- 
 
THE HAPPY FATHERS. 91 
 
 tion of her condition. Never a word came from her 
 mistress in the numerous letters she received from 
 home, about husband or child. 
 
 How Purcey would hang about her mistress when- 
 ever the mail came, and oh ! what pangs of pain passed 
 through her heart when Mrs. Maxwell patted Master 
 Archie on the head, and said : " Papa sends a kiss for 
 his little man." But not a word for this human 
 being who stands at her back, ever ready to do her 
 bidding, ever at her beck and call, to whom was 
 entrusted the very life of the child she loved. No 
 word, no sign, no sympathy, not even a look of 
 recognition for this creature mother, wife, though 
 she knew Purcey to be. Where was Mrs. Maxwell's 
 humanity ? Had she any, or did she not consider this 
 creature human? Perhaps a look at the woman's 
 antecedents will mitigate the censure which humanity 
 would probably, at this day, be likely to place upon 
 her. 
 
 Mrs. Maxwell was of true Southern blue-blood 
 stock. Her father was a highly educated, highly re- 
 spected divine of the Presbyterian faith. Eev. Dr. 
 Joseph Partington expounded the Gospel to a large 
 congregation who acquiesced in his views, which 
 views were always expressed to make immovable the 
 bulwark of slavery, and show to his parishioners what 
 a high moral duty they performed in depriving a 
 human being of his liberty. The labors of Kev. Dr. 
 Partington were not confined to his large and wealthy 
 slave-holding congregation alone, but at his express 
 
92 BOND AND FEEE. 
 
 desire, a partition had been erected in the gallery of 
 his church, through which holes had been made, and 
 the black servants of his own, as well as those of 
 many of the members of his church, assembled, and 
 listened to the glowing words of the great divine. 
 When the audience behind the partition was very 
 large, Rev. Dr. Joseph Partirigton always addressed 
 a word to them concerning their obedience to their 
 masters. This great moral duty he never failed to 
 impress upon their hearing, and there was no passage 
 of the Scripture that he ever quoted so expressly for 
 their benefit. The owner himself of some ten or 
 fifteen human creatures, whom he took great pains to 
 deprive of the least opportunity to learn a letter or 
 see a book, he held them down to a rigid observance 
 of his orthodox views of religion and slavery. Rev. 
 Joseph believed that the institution of slavery was 
 of and by divine consent. Whether he believed it 
 or not, he preached it and taught it. Believing this, 
 whether honestly or not, he was compelled to put in 
 practice the most stringent rules for its support and 
 advancement He was not unlike ministers who are 
 never at loss to find a passage of Scripture in support 
 of the most radical of views. 
 
 He believed that when a servant disobeyed, that 
 servant should be punished, the punishment to be in- 
 flicted according to the judgment of the master. 
 Consequently, whenever Rev. Joseph Partington's 
 servants disobeyed him, or parted from his extremely 
 orthodox views, he never punished them himself. 
 
THE HAPPY FATHERS. 93 
 
 That would be lowering his ministerial dignity ; it 
 would probably discompose his mind in the composi- 
 tion of a sermon on the sufferings of Christ for man- 
 kind, or, " Let godly love fill thy bosom. " No ! Eev. 
 Joseph never punished any of his servants. The 
 nearest approach to summary punishment he had 
 ever been known to administer, was to hit one of his 
 female servants so hard a blow in the mouth as to 
 cause her teeth to cut through her lip in such a 
 manner as to disfigure her for life ; but this was done 
 in a moment of passion, and was a pardonable offense. 
 No ! Eev. Joseph never punished that is, he never 
 performed any such laborious task himself. He, 
 however, approved of it. He believed in the appli- 
 cation of the lash to the back of a negro as sincerely 
 as he believed in no " justification without faith," or 
 the Spirit moving from within. So when any of 
 his servants were to be punished, he always sent the 
 recalcitrant to the town jail with a note couched 
 somewhat in these terms : 
 
 " Strike bearer on naked back nine and thirty blows." 
 
 DB. PABTINGTON. 
 N. B. Well laid on. 
 
 This was the manner by which Kev. Dr. Parti ngton 
 eased his conscience and enforced discipline among 
 his servants. His tender and humane heart could 
 never have suffered to see a human being writhing 
 under the sting of the lash. It would have reminded 
 him too much of Him of whom he preached so much, 
 whose untold sufferings for all mankind the Keverend 
 
9-i BOND AND FKEE. 
 
 portrayed with such earnestness and sincerity. Such 
 was the father of Mrs. Maxwell. The woman was 
 raised from childhood to think, to act, to understand, 
 that a negro possessed none of the higher attributes 
 of mankind. Then, let us make whatever allowance 
 we can for her utter disregard of any feeling of 
 anxiety displayed by Purcey. 
 
 It seems to be a woman's province to bear up 
 under the greatest sufferings, particularly in the 
 presence of those whom she knows have no sympa- 
 thy for her. Purcey had been with Mrs. Maxwell 
 long enough to know that there was no sympathy, or 
 a touch of kindness for her in the bosom of her 
 mistress. During the many months they had been 
 absent from home, not once had she ever given the 
 slightest intimation that she knew Purcey had a 
 husband and child, nor would Purcey make any in- 
 quiry of her, thinking, perhaps, it was useless, as she 
 did not suppose anything would be said about her 
 loved ones by Jonathan. She controlled herself as 
 best she could, praying constantly that the nights 
 and days might be shortened, and the time speedily 
 come for her to return home. It did come at last, 
 and it seemed that each fleeting hour bade her hasten. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 A NOVEL STAKE. 
 
 When Jonathan's wife left home to benefit her 
 health, he, as a true Southern gentleman would do, 
 gave himself up to such pleasures as men find in one 
 another's society. He attended several card parties, in- 
 dulged in a little of that great American game of draw 
 poker, and passed the time partly with rod and gun, 
 just as it suited his fancy. Jonathan was an excellent 
 horseman, and had taken the brush at many a fox 
 hunt. He had accepted several invitations to stag 
 parties, and had entertained several gentlemen at his 
 own residence. His social circle was confined to a 
 select few, for we know that Jonathan Maxwell was 
 a man who did not condescend to take everybody 
 upon a level with him, or seek social prominence. 
 One of his most particular friends was Judge Jere. 
 Coleman. Judge Coleman was what might be called 
 a man of the world ; he was, it is true, of aristocratic 
 birth, and had been possessed of immense wealth. 
 He had traveled extensively through Europe, had 
 represented one of the Virginia districts in Congress, 
 where he made for himself an enviable reputation as 
 a warm defender of the extension of slavery into the 
 Territories. Being a large slave-holder himself, and 
 an able lawyer, his advocacy of spreading the evil of 
 slavery won for him such laurels that, when he re- 
 
 [95] 
 
96 BOXD AND FREE. 
 
 turned home to his constituents, there was no posi- 
 tion within their gift to which they would not have 
 elevated him. 
 
 He however, contented, himself with an appoint- 
 ment to the highest judicial position in the State, 
 which position he filled with credit, until a disposi- 
 tion to travel possessed him, when he resigned his 
 position and set out on an extensive tour through the 
 old countries. While away from home, he spent 
 much of his time and much of his money at the card- 
 table. There was not a place in Europe noted for its 
 gaming attractions that Judge Coleman had not visited 
 and tried his fortune against the uncertainty of cards. 
 Monte Carlo, Brighton, Baden Baden; and all of the 
 famous gaming places of foreign countries were visit- 
 ed by him. He returned home, after a long absence, 
 broken in health and in fortune ; but despite this, he 
 had lost none of his Southern chivalry, and his name 
 was still Judge Coleman. So, from his former aristo- 
 cratic position, and the desire of his friends to respect 
 him for what he had been, he still had access to those 
 exclusive Southern circles in which only gentlemen 
 of honor were recognized. Jonathan had always ad- 
 mired the judge and thought that Judge Coleman ad- 
 mired him. He saw nothing objectionable in selecting 
 a man of this type for a close companion, who had only 
 run through a fortune which his father had made, and 
 was given to those vices so common to men of Judge 
 Coleman's calibre. Judge Coleman still had the name 
 which, at one time, to mention was to make men un- 
 
A NOVEL STAKE. 97 
 
 cover with respect. He was honorable and chivalrous, 
 and, all in all, was a " deuced good fellow," as Jona- 
 than would often remark. 
 
 Judge Coleman, Jonathan Maxwell, and a party 
 of friends had withdrawn from the dining-room of 
 the Maxwell homestead to the drawing-room, after a 
 sumptuous dinner, for the purpose of enjoying a 
 smoke and indulging in a social game of draw poker. 
 Southern gentlemen have ever been, and, perhaps, will 
 be ( until that particular class of Americans known 
 by this distinctive appellation become extinct) pas- 
 sionately fond of poker. In the nourishing days of 
 slavery, the steamboats, the railroads, the summer 
 resorts, the winter resorts, all furnished retreats for 
 these gentlemen to engage in this favorite pastime. 
 Many black men and women, oftentimes children, 
 have changed masters over the card-table. There 
 was nothing strange about this, a negro being just as 
 good collateral as a Government bond, a horse, or a 
 gold watch. He had his value, was transferable, 
 and was always a ready sale, easily converted into 
 cash. So when a Southern gentleman ran short of 
 cash at the card-table, it was no unusual custom for 
 him to put up his servant as collateral. A person 
 can go and receive money on an old coat, or a watch, 
 or any other thing of value. Why, then, should a 
 man refuse to accept as a bonus a human being 
 that was actually so many dollars and cents ? It 
 must not be supposed that a man who had paid so 
 dearly for his experience as Judge Coleman had 
 
98 BOND AND FKEE. 
 
 was not very clever with the cards. Such a supposi- 
 tion would not only be unjust to the man, but would 
 make false the assertion, " Experience is the best 
 teacher/' He was indeed very clever, and before 
 that social game ended, he had won a large amount of 
 money, besides the husband of Purcey, William Mc- 
 Cullar, and it happened in this way : The entire party 
 had indulged very freely in wine, both at and after 
 dinner, and when they seated themselves at the table 
 to play a social game, they grew rather reckless as to 
 the stakes. After Jonathan had lost what money he 
 had about his person, he said : 
 
 "Judge, I'll play you for any nigger I have on the 
 place, against your winnings." 
 
 " It's a go," replied Judge Coleman. 
 
 The game was played amidst much merriment, and 
 the judge, of course, won. Jonathan told him to se- 
 lect whatever servant he wanted, and the judge, not 
 to be too particular, selected the negro man who had 
 performed the service of waiting upon them. This 
 man was William, who, having finished his service 
 with the master to whom he had been hired, had 
 been installed waiter in his proper master's house. 
 
 Judge Coleman had really no use for a servant, 
 nor had he any intention of keeping one. He had 
 possessed a large number of them at one time, but 
 then he was a large land-owner, and made good use 
 of them. There was but one use he could make of 
 William, and that was to convert him into cash. So 
 he said to Jonathan : " Maxwell, I don't want that nig- 
 
A NOVEL STAKE. 99 
 
 ger, give me a thousand dollars and keep him." If 
 Jonathan Maxwell had not been under the influence 
 of liquor, knowing the man as we do, we should 
 naturally have thought that he would have accepted 
 this offer ; but it must also be remembered that a 
 word passed by a Southern gentleman, whether at 
 the card-table or the counting-table, was considered 
 as binding and irrevocable as the word of man could 
 be. 
 
 Jonathan Maxwell, under the excitement of a game 
 of cards, had chanced off, in round cash, two thousand 
 dollars. To be sure it was only a poor black slave, 
 a husband and a father, a man with a heart and soul, 
 a being that could feel, could see, could taste, that 
 felt the same cold and the same heat his master did. 
 But what cared this master, what thought had he of 
 a slave possessing such sensibilities ! He only knew 
 that he had bought him ; the law of the land protected 
 him in his ownership, and made his title as clear to 
 the possession of this human being as it did to his 
 acres of land. And when Judge Coleman offered to 
 return the man, not out of sympathy for him, but be- 
 cause the cash would be more advantageous, not be- 
 cause he did not know that he could obtain that 
 amount in any slave-market, or from any negro "tra- 
 der, but because he thought his host would accept 
 back, after a second consideration, the impulsive wa- 
 ger. Jonathan was obdurate, and insisted, as the 
 judge had fairly won, he should take the man. 
 
 William had no knowledge that he had been bar- 
 
100 BOND AND FEEE. 
 
 tered away to a new master, and perhaps it was all 
 the better he did not, for, having been separated from 
 his wife for months and months, the probability of 
 never seeing her again would have, perhaps, driven 
 the poor fellow frantic. Judge Coleman remained 
 as a guest at the Maxwell house, consequently noth- 
 ing was said to William about the change which 
 would take place when the judge's visit terminated- 
 A fear that he might attempt to run away was one 
 reason, and as the judge had not bought him in a 
 very business-like manner, he did not like to confine 
 him in the town jail, as was the custom when buy- 
 ing up slaves. 
 
 Since the departure of Mrs. Maxwell, Elva had the 
 entire oversight of the house. She was allowed, or 
 took, many privileges that were denied to the other 
 servants, which gave her an opportunity to know 
 much of her master's doings. She presided over the 
 culinary department, where she permitted no intru- 
 sion, For some reason, Jonathan had for her a pe- 
 culiar respect or awe. And why did Jonathan 
 Maxwell have this peculiar feeling? Had not his 
 mother, upon her dying bed, taught him to hate her? 
 Did he not own her as absolutely as any slave upon 
 his place ? Was he not fully aware that this woman 
 had given birth to a child of which his father was 
 also the father? Then why should he have this pe- 
 culiar feeling ? Was it because he had nursed at her 
 breast ? Was it because, in his childhood days, this 
 slave- woman had humored his whims, nursed him 
 
A NOVEL STAKE. 101 
 
 tenderly, and, when almost at death's door with a dan- 
 gerous fever he had contracted, she, by tenderness 
 and care, had brought back the flickering flame of life 
 which had at one time almost left him, or was it be- 
 cause he had inherited this awe or respect from his 
 father? There are certain innate qualities which men 
 inherit ; whatever other qualities they cultivate, traces 
 of the hereditary are evident. 
 
 Jonathan's father was one of a numerous class of 
 Southern slave-holding gentlemen who carried on a 
 criminal and illicit intimacy with his slaves. This 
 brutish desire might have been the incarnation of 
 Satan, or the outcome of a curse, put upon them by 
 an overruling power, that they should bruise and 
 maltreat their own flesh and blood. Whatever it 
 was, we shall give Jonathan's father credit for desist- 
 ing, as we have said before, from abusing the woman 
 who was both his slave and his mistress. Elva had 
 always held a wonderful influence over the father 
 of Jonathan. He could never withstand the awful 
 gaze of those lustrous black eyes. The secret of 
 the influence which she held over the father died 
 with him ; but the son inherited its effect without 
 fully realizing the cause. 
 
 Elva made it her business to watch everything 
 that occured about the Maxwell house, not for her 
 master's benefit, nor to be a tale-bearer to her mistress, 
 but for her own satisfaction. She slept in the house, 
 but had made it a rule for years never to retire un- 
 til every person in the house had done so. Often, 
 
102 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 with her stealthy step, had she stolen through the 
 house and listened at her master's door. More than 
 once had young master Jonathan come home late at 
 night, partly intoxicated, and found her crouched 
 in a corner upon the steps close to his father's door. 
 When questioned as to what she was doing there, 
 she would invariably answer, "Waiting for you, 
 massa Johnnie." The woman seemed scarcely ever 
 to sleep. Come in or go out whatever hour you 
 would, those large, black, speaking eyes could be seen, 
 open, undimmed, and unwearied. What were the 
 temptations that entered the woman's mind, when 
 the man who owned her body and had dishonored her 
 slept in apparent calm repose ? Often was she tempt- 
 ed to redden her hands in his blood and attempt to 
 free herself and all of her children from bondage. 
 But when she thought how useless such a thing 
 would be, that although she might kill her master 
 and no suspicion rest upon her, she decided to use 
 greater discretion ; though had Jonathan's father 
 been the hydra-headed monster of slavery, this 
 woman, in her fanaticism, her religious fervor, would 
 have easily been worked up to believe herself the 
 saviour of her race, and would have strangled the mon- 
 ster without a thought of the consequence. Elva 
 never resigned her watchfulness after the death of 
 her old master, but continued it ; and had Jonathan 
 Maxwell taken a second thought when he lost Wil- 
 liam McCullar, his slave, at a game of cards, he might 
 have known that the transaction was seen and heard 
 
A NOVEL STAKE. 103 
 
 by this astute woman. Elva evidently felt it her busi- 
 ness 'to know everything that occurred in that house, 
 and she did. When the gentlemen retired to the draw- 
 ing-room, Elva knew what it was for. Hurrying 
 through her work, she reached the door in the midst 
 of their merriment, and heard the words which trans- 
 ferred her daughter's husband to another master. She 
 also heard Jonathan refuse to buy him back. Stag- 
 gering to her feet, almost overcome by what she heard, 
 she returned to the kitchen, fell upon her knees, and 
 prayed for Purcev's return. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE WIFE'S RETURN. 
 
 Elva poured out her soul to the Almighty that her 
 daughter might return before William was taken 
 away. Rising from her knees, she bethought herself 
 as to what was the best to do in the premises. She 
 had no idea when William would be taken away by 
 his new master, or had she the remotest idea when 
 her mistress would return ; she knew, however, that 
 something must be done and that at once. She could 
 do but one thing, and that was to urge William to 
 seek freedom. Then she thought that such a course 
 would be next to impossible, as she could never per- 
 suade the man to leave without seeing his wife. 
 Their child, under such care as Elva could bestow 
 upon it, had grown into a handsome little mulatto fel- 
 low, with straight black hair and eyes that fairly re- 
 flected those of his mother. He was kept cleaner and 
 neater in his dress than the other children, -and his 
 play-ground was the kitchen, where he was constantly 
 under Elva's eye. She knew that should William 
 leave for a free land without seeing his wife, his 
 chances to see them again would be better than if he 
 remained to be removed away, and, perhaps, sold to a 
 trader and then be taken to the South. 
 
 Here were two evils facing her, and she was puz- 
 
105 
 
 zled as to which one to avoid. She had not as yet 
 mentioned a word to William of his dangerous po- 
 sition, but time was flying ; and she was still unde- 
 cided as to which course to pursue. Once more she 
 fell upon her knees and appealed to the Almighty 
 for guidance, and she had scarcely finished her prayer 
 when the bell rang summoning her to the drawing- 
 room. She arose and answered the call. She had 
 just time to wonder what her master wanted, when 
 she reached the drawing-room door. Pushing it open 
 softly, she discovered Jonathan and Judge Coleman 
 engaged in conversation. Standing, almost transfixed, 
 with her hand touching the door, she heard the judge 
 say: 
 
 "Maxwell, I think I shall leave you to-morrow." 
 
 Jonathan said : "I am sorry to part with you, old 
 fellow, but if you will go, all right. I shall expect 
 you down during hunting season, when you won't 
 have to be entertained by the host without the 
 hostess." 
 
 " Yes," said the judge, " I shall come. I want, 
 however, to leave this boy here a few days." 
 
 Jonathan replied, " No, that won't do. You must 
 take him along. His mistress comes home with his 
 wife, in a few days, and the devil would be to play 
 should they have to be separated." 
 
 This touch of feeling was the first evidence given 
 by Jonathan that he felt any reproach over what he 
 had done. 
 
 " Well, as you like it, Maxwell. These creatures 
 
106 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 do go on terribly, sometimes, about being separated, 
 just as though they could not take up another and be 
 just as well satisfied." 
 
 Elva waited to hear no more. She pushed open 
 the door, entered the room, and stood before her mas- 
 ter and his guest 
 
 " Massa, did you ring ?" she said. 
 
 " Yes, Elva, your mistress and Master Archie will 
 be home day after to-morrow. See that everything 
 is in readiness for them." She made a bow, and 
 left the room. 
 
 She went directly and sought William, quickly in- 
 forming him of everything, and telling him that he 
 must fly, he must run away that night, or, perhaps, 
 he would never have another chance. When Wil- 
 liam heard the startling news of his transfer, of the 
 intention to remove him the next day, he knew not 
 where, certain that it would be, if anything, to sla- 
 very more absolute and binding than that he was now 
 in, his first thought was of his wife whom, perhaps, 
 he was destined never to see again. This was indeed 
 sad to contemplate ; but he also thought, sad as it was, 
 that by taking this step, securing freedom, Purcey 
 would be induced to watch her opportunity to break 
 her shackles and one day join him in a free land. 
 Strong and stout-hearted as he was, he quailed before 
 the inevitable separation, and in a choking voice he 
 said : 
 
 "Aunt Elva, must I go widout seeing Purcey? 
 Must I leave the child ?" 
 
THE WIFE'S RETURN. 107 
 
 " Yes," said Elva, " You must go to-night, and you 
 must travel fast and cover every track until you 
 reach de river. Don't stop night or day until you 
 are safe in de land of freedom." 
 
 William McCullar, though a slave, was a noble- 
 hearted man. He was brave and courageous. Had 
 he have thought that there was the least possible 
 chance of remaining and successfully resisting being 
 taken away by his new master, without seeing his wife i 
 he would have fought to the last. He was possessed 
 of sufficient intelligence to know that any attempt 
 at resistance would be utterly useless, when every 
 slave upon the place would be called upon to assist 
 in subduing him, and the law of the land would con- 
 done his death should they see fit to administer such 
 a penalty. With all these odds against him, he turned 
 to Elva and said : " Massa Maxwell has sold me ; but 
 I'll remain here until Purcey comes back, or be 
 tooken away dead." 
 
 "Now, honey, there's no use talking that way. 
 You must either run away at once, or be taken to 
 God knows where." 
 
 "But," said William, "'sposing I am captured; 
 wouldn't I be sold to the traders anyhow ? " 
 
 "But you won't be captured," said Elva 
 
 William shook his head doubtfully. They stood in 
 silence for a few moments, when the door opened and 
 William's bright-eyed little son came running in, and, 
 as if by instinct, wrapped his tiny little arms around 
 his father's legs and looked up into his face. The 
 
108 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 father bent down, lifted the child up, held it at arm's 
 length, drew it to his bosom, and kissed it. The 
 child threw its tiny arms around its father's neck and 
 laid its head against his face. 
 
 " Poor chile," said William, " your poor father must 
 leave you, maybe never to see you agin/' 
 
 The child hardly realized what its father said, but 
 tightened its arms around his neck. Here was sim- 
 ple, pure affection this slave-father, pressing to his 
 heart and bestowing what might be a last farewell and 
 blessing upon his own flesh and blood, which by law 
 was the common property of another man. Should 
 we wonder that William questioned the right of an- 
 other man to separate him from the wife and child of 
 his bosom ? He put the child down and the tears 
 almost blinded his eyes. 
 
 " No, aunt Elva," he said, " I can't go. I won't go 
 until Purcey comes. I'll go to Mars Jonathan and 
 ask him to let me stay just one day, and then I'll go ; 
 but I won't stay, Elva. Dey can take me as far 
 South as dey please, but I'll run away the first 
 chance I git." 
 
 " You can go to Mars Jonathan, honey, if you want, 
 but it ain't no use ; he says you must go before mis- 
 sus and Purcey comes home." 
 
 This discouraging piece of intelligence did not alter 
 William's resolve to appeal to his master. When the 
 dinner hour arrived, he waited on the table, as was his 
 duty, and during the meal Jonathan said to him : 
 " Bill, after dinner you get your things together and 
 
THE WIFE'S RETURN. 109 
 
 prepare to go with Judge Coleman. I have sold you 
 to him." 
 
 William did not show any evidence of surprise at 
 this announcement, but, standing before his master 
 with a server in his hand, he said : " Massa, can't I 
 wait until missus comes home with Purcey ? Please 
 don't send me away widout seeing her." And while 
 he spoke, every limb trembled and the dishes on the 
 server shook until there was imminent danger of his 
 letting them fall Jonathan Maxwell looked at the 
 man without a change in his cold, hard features, and 
 without a thought of what his own feelings would be 
 were he told then that he must leave his own dear 
 wife and son, and go he knew not where after being 
 separated from them for months, and yet within but 
 a few hours of the time that he could fold them to 
 his bosom. This he did not give a thought, and, of 
 course, had no sympathy for the slave's appeal. When 
 William had finished speaking, Jonathan waved his 
 hand and pointed toward the door. William knew 
 what this meant, and, with tears in his eyes nearly 
 blinding him and a great lump in his throat nearly 
 choking him, he passed from the room, entered the 
 kitchen, and fell at Elva's feet exclaiming, ; ' It's no 
 use ! it's no use ! " 
 
 Before Elva could utter a word, the wheels of a 
 carriage were heard upon the gravel driveway. Elva 
 ran to the window and saw, seated by the side of the 
 driver, Purcey, while young master Archie's haughty 
 face was pressed against the window. The carriage 
 
110 BOND AND FKEE. 
 
 was discovered about the same time 1 by Jonathan, 
 who ran to the door to meet them. 
 
 The arrival of Mrs. Maxwell a day earlier than 
 she was expected created, of course, quite an excite- 
 ment in the household, and everything else for the 
 time was forgotten, so glad was Jonathan to welcome 
 his family home. The cause of Mrs. Maxwell's un- 
 expected return was a very simple one. She had 
 started for home a day earlier than she intended be- 
 cause she did not see that her health would be 
 benefited by slow, tedious travel, when she could 
 take another route which, as will be seen, brought 
 her home a day sooner than expected. As soon as 
 Purcey had attended her mistress, she speedily sought 
 her husband and child. She found the latter play- 
 ing in the kitchen, as usual, ]put, in place of a little 
 baby in swaddling clothes, she found a bright-eyed, 
 smiling-faced little youngster walking about without 
 the aid of chairs and table legs. She soon had the 
 child in her arms, bestowing upon it the caresses of 
 a fond mother. 
 
 William had been sent out by his master to pre- 
 pare Judge Coleman's horse for the judge's departure, 
 but horses and master's commands had lost all inter- 
 est for him ; he knew his wife had come, and he felt 
 more reconciled to his fate, now that he could em- 
 brace her before leaving. His wife had returned, his 
 heart was lighter, and he wondered whether Elva's 
 and his own prayers had been answered. 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 
 THE SEPARATION. 
 
 Purcey was, as might be supposed, highly elated 
 upon her return home. She laughed, she cried, by 
 turns. Her heart was filled with unutterable joy; 
 everything seemed lost to her, for the time being, 
 except her excessive happiness at her return and 
 the sight of those she loved so dearly. There had 
 not been a single circumstance which had conveyed 
 to her a message, a word, as to their existence, during 
 her absence from them. Had she have received one 
 word, one little message, from them, perhaps she 
 might not have been quite so demonstrative now 
 upon meeting them. Let us not think, because she 
 fell upon her husband's bosom and wept like a child, 
 that it was the overflow of passion in which women, 
 as a rule, are apt to indulge. This heart, filled only 
 with the purest of love, inexpressible joy, must soon 
 be rent with the cruelest and bitterest grief. Purcey 
 did not know, as she stood there encircled by her 
 husband's arms, that a cruel and relentless man, her 
 master by the law of the land, had already taken that 
 husband from her by a mere word. She did not 
 know that that embrace would be, perhaps, the last 
 she would ever receive from her husband. 
 
 William did not know how to break the sad news 
 [in] 
 
112 BOND AND FEEE. 
 
 to her. Illiterate though he was, his heart was filled 
 with true, manly love and real, human feeling. The 
 husband and wife thus stood clasped in each other's 
 arms, and it seemed as though no power could sepa- 
 rate them. When Purcey recovered herself, she 
 looked into his face with her beautiful black eyes ; 
 she saw that that face, black though it was, wore a 
 troubled, anxious look. She said : 
 
 " My husband, ain't you glad to see me ? " 
 
 " Glad?" said William, "glad? More, chile; I 
 can't spress how I feel." 
 
 " What makes you look so sad ? " 
 
 " 'Tain't 'cause you'se come home, for that's what 
 I been praying to de Lord for. No, 'tain't that, but 
 you'se come, and and " Poor fellow ! he could 
 say no more. Something rose in his throat and al- 
 most choked him. He reached his hands toward his 
 wife, exclaiming, " It's no use, it's no use, Purcey ! 
 I must go." 
 
 "Go where? What is it?" said Purcey. She 
 grew greatly excited, but could not divine her hus- 
 band's meaning. "Speak, William, tell me what 
 you mean." The black eyes looked at him in an im- 
 ploring manner, but William saw them not, nor did 
 he appear ro hear her words. He was now pacing 
 the floor still exclaiming, " Its no use ! its no use ! " 
 Purcey could bear this no longer. She threw her- 
 self upon his neck, exclaiming : 
 
 "Tell me all, William. What has happened? What 
 have you done ? Why must you go ? Where must 
 
THE SEPARATION. 113 
 
 you go ? Tell rne ! tell me !" This seemed to call the 
 man's senses back, and when he saw how excited his 
 wife was, he tried to pacify her by telling her that he 
 would come to her again as he had to get Judge Cole- 
 man's horse ready for him. Purcey would not listen 
 to this. She insisted upon knowing the cause of his 
 strange actions, and clung to him all the more. Wil- 
 liam saw that there was no use concealing the truth 
 longer, as it made her almost frantic with excitement 
 The man's actions were certainly strange. Purcey 
 did not expect to find her husband anything but 
 happy upon her return ; she had not given a thought 
 to such a thing as his being separated from her far- 
 ther than a few miles. Neither had she expected to 
 find him at the Maxwell house, as he was always 
 hired out since the escape of her brothers, and she 
 little knew that had her arrival been a day later, she 
 would never have beheld him again. No wonder, 
 then, she insisted upon knowing the meaning of 
 William's strange words. Could she have guessed 
 their meaning, could she have realized what pain their 
 explanation would cause her, she might not have per- 
 sisted so. But she must, she would know. 
 
 William passed his arm gently around her as he 
 said : " Chile, ain't nobody told jou ? " 
 
 "Told me what? I have had no talk with any 
 one but you, and you talk so strange. What has 
 happened ? " 
 
 He stood with his arm encircling her shapely form 
 while her head rested against his bosom. She could 
 
114 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 feel the quick throbbing of his heart, his bosom rising 
 and falling with agitation. For a moment, all was 
 silence, then he raised his disengaged hand and ca- 
 ressed her tenderly, while a tear stole down his dusky 
 cheek. He spoke with great effort as he said, " Poor 
 chile ! Oh, how I have prayed for your return ! 
 Now that you'se come, it seems so hard, so hard !" 
 
 And with these words, this strong, horny-handed 
 slave broke completely down, and wept like a child. 
 His head fell forward upon his bosom, and the tears 
 fell thick and fast. Yes ; he upon whose back the 
 whip of a cruel master had fallen with relentless force ; 
 he who had suffered all the cruelty and privations 
 known to slavery and had never winced, but remained 
 as stolid and as indifferent as a Sphinx, now suc- 
 cumbed to the feelings which had overcome him in 
 view of the separation from the companion of his heart 
 Cruel, cruel man, made in the image of his Maker, yet 
 so unlike Him in love, by what right do you cause 
 your fellow-men to suffer thus ? Is there any miti- 
 gation for the wrongs done your brother? Is there 
 any forgiveness for your disobedience of that divine 
 principle, " Do unto others as you would have them 
 do unto you ? " 
 
 The woman now stood almost motionless ; she had 
 not yet been able to conceive the cause of her hus- 
 band's agitation. Never before had she seen him so 
 agitated, and respect for his poignant grief compelled 
 her, for a moment, to weep with him in silence. At 
 last, unable to bear the terrible suspense longer, she 
 
THE SEPARATION. 115 
 
 broke out in words of burning intensity : " My loving 
 husband, my own William, pray tell me the cause of 
 this great grief. Would you break my heart with 
 this terrible silence? Let me know the worst. 
 Speak to me, my husband, speak ! " 
 
 The man controlled his feelings as best he could, 
 and, in a trembling voice, said: "Break your heart? 
 No, chile, de good Lord forbid that. But " and 
 he drew her near to his bosom, " I must, I must leave 
 you, leave you to-day. I hab another master." 
 
 " Why, what of that? You can come and see me 
 as you have always done." 
 
 "No, chile, I'm going away off; I don't know 
 where. Mars Jonathan has has sold me." 
 
 " What ? Sold you ! sold you ! " exclaimed the 
 woman as she staggered back. " Sold you ! my God, 
 it cannot be ! " and with this exclamation she fell to 
 the floor. 
 
 William quickly had her in his arms. The loud 
 exclamation and the dull thud of her body as it struck 
 the floor were heard by Elva, who came rushing into 
 the room just as William raised the limp form from 
 the floor. Without asking any questions, she set 
 about restoring her daughter to consciousness. Pur- 
 cey slowly regained her senses, but only to swoon 
 away again. William was now summoned to bring 
 the horses. He bent over her prostrate form, and 
 brushed back her raven tresses, which had fallen in a 
 mass over her brow, kissing her again and again. It 
 was the last kiss he implanted upon that brow for 
 
116 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 many a day. He told Elva to say to her that he was 
 going to run. away ; he was going to flee to freedom 
 the first chance he got, and he wanted Purcey to take 
 the child and make her escape. With this parting 
 injunction, without another word, he left his uncon- 
 scious wife and his only child to follow his new mas- 
 ter wherever necessary, perhaps to be sold again, but, 
 at all events, with little hope of ever seeing that wife 
 whom he loved so dearly and the child for whom his 
 heart yearned. 
 
 William took the horses to the door ; Judge Cole- 
 man bade Jonathan Maxwell farewell, promising to 
 return during the hunting season, and, with the re- 
 sult of his last successful gambling bet, rode away. 
 Jonathan watched them until well out of sight, when 
 he entered the house and fondly embraced his wife. 
 Seating himself in an easy chair, he took his darling 
 son upon his knee, and asked his wife to tell him all 
 about their long sojourn from home. 
 
 Can there be any adequate expression given to the 
 depth of human feeling? or, is there no depth or 
 breadth to the feeling of the human heart? Are we 
 to suppose that Jonathan Maxwell, as he sat there 
 with his son upon his knee and his wife gazing af- 
 fectionately upon him, had any thought of the man 
 whom he had just separated from a wife whose prov- 
 ince it was to love her husband as dearly as any 
 other woman ? Can it be supposed that, surrounded 
 as he was by love, by every comfort heart could wish 7 
 a single pang of remorse entered his bosom to re- 
 
THE SEPARATION. 117 
 
 proach him for this downright, cruel robbery ? Did 
 one jot of sympathy dwell within his heart for the 
 woman who, at that moment, was being racked by a 
 raging fever brought on by this sudden announce- 
 ment of a separation from her husband ? Had not 
 the injunction, " whom God hath joined together let 
 no man put asunder," any significance that this man 
 Maxwell could appreciate? If he possessed one 
 spark of feeling, no evidence of it could be discerned 
 upon his countenance. What had he done, the 
 thought of which would make him regretful ? What 
 had he done that remorse should haunt his happi- 
 ness, or disturb his tranquility ? Nothing but play 
 away the value of a certain amount of money at the 
 gaming table, and, not seeing fit to pay the obligation 
 in cash, had given substantial collateral in the form 
 of human being his property by law instead. 
 What had he done ? Nothing but widowed a wife 
 by a means worse than death ; nothing but orphaned 
 a child in a manner simply cruel ; nothing but break 
 the heart of a woman, now almost a raving maniac. 
 But what signified all this ? It was simply a privilege 
 which the law gave a man, to dispose of his own 
 property as he saw fit Who would censure him 
 who condemn him for the exercise of that privilege ? 
 If there were any thought at all regarding his late 
 transaction, it was that William would soon get over 
 any sorrow that he had for the separation from his 
 wife, and forget it all in finding new companions, 
 perhaps another wife. As for Purcey, he intended, 
 
118 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 if any manifestation of grief was displayed more than 
 he thought was necessary, to put a check upon it in 
 any manner that suggested itself to him. 
 
 Mrs. Maxwell, reclining in a comfortable chair, de- 
 scribed in an interesting manner all the events of her 
 visit, and concluded by referring to her greatly im- 
 proved health. She then requested Jonathan to ring 
 for Purcey to give Master Archie his bath. Jonathan 
 rang the maid's bell, which was answered by Purcey 's 
 sister, Eloise. 
 
 ''Where is Purcey," said Mrs. Maxwell, "that she 
 did not answer the bell ? " 
 
 Eloise was very fat, very round, and very ugly, 
 with a face like a butter ball, and eyes that sat in her 
 head like two holes burnt into a blanket. Her hair 
 stood out straight from her head like the quills upon 
 a porcupine. In addition to this, she was black, sly, 
 and considerably younger than her sister, Purcey. 
 One garment covered her person, and her feet were 
 always ready for a jig. She was, however, clever and 
 quite useful ; she could do most any work about the 
 house that she could be entrusted with, and could 
 work in the harvest field equal to a man. She had 
 an insatiable desire for mischief, and was as near being 
 uncivilized as a human being can be without being 
 actually so. When Elva, with Eloise's assistance, 
 had got Purcey to her bed, she sent Eloise into the 
 kitchen to attend to the work until she could safely 
 leave her daughter's bedside. She dared not leave 
 Eloise with her sister, for, unless she fully realized 
 
THE SEPARATION. 119 
 
 the serious condition Purcey was in, she would likely 
 have committed some indiscretion, which, perhaps, 
 might have ended seriously. Elva instructed her 
 that in case the bell rang to answer it, and see what 
 was wanted. This is why Eloise had answered the 
 bell, and, as she entered the room, she stood balancing 
 herself first on one foot, then on the other, until her 
 mistress repeated the question the second time. 
 
 Now there was one thing about Eloise which was 
 very remarkable. She feared neither mistress nor 
 master, nor had she any fear of the lash. Her hide 
 was as tough as the hide of a rhinoceros, and she ap- 
 parently cared for nothing. There was but one 
 person on earth that she seemed to care for, and that 
 was Purcey. She loved Purcey with a devotion that 
 her nature in no way betrayed, and, when asked why 
 she loved her so, she would say, " Cause she's white 
 and ain't like us common niggers." Purcey was the 
 only one who could control her. She would do what- 
 ever Purcey bade her, and would cry like a child 
 when reprimanded by her sister. 
 
 What it was that drew this almost uncivilized 
 child toward her sister, it would be hard to tell, un- 
 less it was the music of Purcey's voice. Whenever 
 Purcey would sing (she had a sweet voice), Eloise 
 would stand and grin and clap her hands. As soon 
 as she had finished singing, Eloise would rush- upon 
 her and almost hug the breath out of her. This was 
 singular, in view of the fact of her far different actions 
 when any one else would sing. It did not matter 
 
120 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 whether it was a tune of slow or fast measure, a 
 hymn, or a song, Eloise would attempt to dance it. 
 But just let Purcey raise her voice, and the feet of 
 the little savage were stilled in silence, and her mouth 
 would drop wide open, a broad grin overspread her 
 face, and her little, round, mischievous eyes, glitter 
 like fire-balls. This was the attachment which this 
 untutored child of bondage bore for her sister, and 
 when she saw Purcey lying insensible upon the floor, 
 she could not realize what it meant. She asked her 
 mother, however, what ailed her, and, when told that 
 she had been made sick by the fact that Mars Jona- 
 than had sold her husband, she said : " Mars Jona- 
 than make Purcey sick? What he do dat for?" Her 
 mother gave her some evasive reply, and sent her 
 down into the kitchen. So when Eloise answered 
 the bell, and- her mistress asked why Purcey did not 
 respond, Elo, as she was called, replied, '"Cause she 
 can't.' 7 
 
 "Because she can't? What does that mean, Elo?" 
 
 "Sheded, dats why." 
 
 " Dead !" said Jonathan, rising to his feet. " Dead !" 
 said Mrs. Maxwell, placing her bottle of smelling- 
 salts to her nose. 
 
 " Yes, ded," said Elo. " She's white as you is, Mis- 
 ses, and me and mamma toted her up-stairs." 
 
 Elo knew very well that Purcey was not dead, but 
 so incontrollable was her desire for mischief, that 
 she would pass a joke, or tell a lie, just as quickly 
 over a dead person as a live one. 
 
THE SEPAKATION. 121 
 
 Jonathan, knowing well Elo's disposition and weak- 
 ness for prevaricating, while moved by the serious 
 air she assumed at first, upon recovering himself, said: 
 "Elo, tell me the truth, or I'll whip you." 
 
 "Truf, truf," said Elo, "dat's de truf. What I 
 care if you whip me? Ain't I a nigger? and aint nig- 
 gers made to be whipped ?" 
 
 Mrs. Maxwell said : " Jonathan, don't stop to argue 
 with that imp, but go and see if there is anything 
 the matter." 
 
 Now this is just the very thing that Jonathan was 
 trying to avoid. He suspected there was something 
 wrong with Purcey, as he had every reason to sus- 
 pect; but he had no intention of facing Elva in the 
 kitchen, and have those dreadful eyes of hers look- 
 ing reproachfully at him. Turning to Elo, who had 
 got herself pretty well balanced on one foot, the 
 other being hid out of sight by the long, gown-like 
 garment she wore, he said: "Go and tell Aunt Elva 
 to come here." 
 
 Elo made a bound for the door, turning Master 
 Archie, whom his father had placed upon the floor, 
 head over heels, and left the room. 
 
 Jonathan then said to his wife, "1 expect that 
 wench is going on because of William." 
 
 " William !" said his wife. " Who is that?" 
 
 "Her husband." 
 
 " Well, what's the matter with him?" 
 
 " I sold him to Colernan." 
 
122 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 " Why should she go on so about him, dear?" said 
 Mrs. Maxwell. 
 
 " Oh, she always had a great fancy for him, and 
 now I expect the devil will be to play." 
 
 " I don't see why that should be, she will soon get 
 over that You have plenty as good niggers upon 
 the place as William. She will soon be in love with 
 some of them." And Mrs. Maxwell laughed. 
 
 This is the view Mrs. Maxwell took of it. She 
 could not understand how Purcey, a slave, could have 
 any lasting affection for a husband. She could not 
 understand why such affection could not be as easily 
 transferred from one slave to another, as it never en- 
 tered that lady's mind that such a thing as affection 
 existed within the bosom of a black person. They 
 might form attachments, or have a preference for one 
 another, but affection was a thing which only white 
 people were capable of displaying. Mrs. Maxwell 
 knew but very little of her husband's affairs, or, in- 
 deed, did she care much about them, being one of 
 those indolent ladies who occupied her time between 
 dress and French novels. She had no household 
 cares, nor did she seek any. A servant was always 
 at her hand, to attend her wants, and whenever her 
 husband mentioned anything to her about the affairs 
 of the house, she at once showed signs of being bored. 
 She believed that all persons born black were in their 
 proper place when in bondage, and it was the invi- 
 olable right of the master to dispose of the slave as 
 he saw fit. 
 
THE SEPARATION. 123 
 
 So, as a matter of course, Jonathan met with no 
 reproof from the companion of his life for doing a 
 thing which, were it not that he had steeled himself 
 to, might have pricked his conscience. 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 ANOTHER CLASS OF SLAVES. 
 
 It was some time before Elva obeyed her master's 
 summons. A desperate struggle passed within the 
 woman's bosom, as she stood there over her daughter, 
 feeling certain that Purcey's illness would be a pro- 
 longed one. Purcey's mind was flighty, and con- 
 stantly wandering, her husband being the subject of 
 her incessant mutterings. It was a blessing that Elva 
 was so good a nurse, for medical experience was hard 
 to obtain, and, besides, that was not often employed 
 to attend slaves. When she had calmed Purcey, and 
 got her into a slight slumber, she went to the draw- 
 ing-room, where Mr. and Mrs. Maxwell awaited her. 
 Elva entered, addressed her mistress, and said : "Did 
 you send for me, Miss Jinnie?" This was the name 
 by which she had always addressed her mistress be- 
 fore her marriage to Jonathan, and she had never 
 dropped the Miss, since Jennie Partington became 
 Mrs. Maxwell. 
 
 "Yes, Elva," said Mrs. Maxwell, "what is the 
 matter with Purcey?" 
 
 " Why, de poor chile's taken very sick, and I had 
 to put her to bed." 
 
 " What caused her sickness?" 
 
 " Don't know zackly, Miss Jinnie. She complained 
 
 [124] 
 
ANOTHER CLASS OF SLAVES. 125 
 
 soon as she got home, and I seed she was not well, 
 and after William bid her good-bye, poor chile, she 
 give right up." 
 
 Elva knew that both her mistress and master were 
 anxious to know how Purcey took the separation from 
 her husband, and she was trying to avoid giving them 
 the information they sought. She had told the truth 
 when she said Purcey was unwell, when she returned 
 home, for so she was. The long separation from her 
 husband and child, and the dreadful suspense she en- 
 dured from day to day, never hearing anything of 
 them, and having no knowledge as to whether they 
 were dead or alive, was a strain upon mind and body 
 that took almost a superhuman effort to stand. Her 
 excessive joy consequent upon her return to them, 
 and then to be told that her husband was to be sep- 
 arated from her, that he had been sold, was indeed 
 enough to have completely unseated her reason. Jon- 
 athan then questioned Elva closely, 'to ascertain the 
 real cause of her illness, but elicited only the infor- 
 mation that she had a raging fever, and that it would, 
 perhaps, be many weeks before she would be able to 
 attend to her duties. He finally dismissed her, with 
 instructions to give her such attention as she required 
 and to send one of the other servants to perform the 
 duty of maid for her mistress. 
 
 Elva returned to the sick-room of her daughter. 
 Falling upon her knees by the bedside, she prayed 
 fcr Purcey's safe restoration to health. It was many 
 days after that prayer before Purcey was restored to 
 
126 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 health, but, thanks to the skillful nursing of her 
 mother, she was brought back almost from death's 
 door. 
 
 When she had sufficiently recovered, Elva told 
 her all that had happened, for it was all like a dream 
 to her, and implored her to give no outward sign of 
 her feelings. She also gave her the message William 
 had left for her. Purcey was greatly changed ; she 
 was no longer the bright, vivacious, and sprightly 
 woman as before; she looked years older than she 
 really was. Sickness and sorrow had ploughed wrin- 
 kles upon her brow, and her beautiful black hair 
 had all come out. Her step was no longer light and 
 elastic, while the lustre of her handsome black eyes 
 was dimmed. She was at all times thoughtful. She 
 kept close to her own room, so as to be ready to 
 carry out the resolve she had long since made. 
 
 Upon her child she bestowed great care and atten- 
 tion. She would sit with him in her arms for hours, 
 and tell him how he had been robbed of his father, 
 and then burst out in a fit of tears exclaiming, " Oh, 
 if they were to take mamma's darling from her, it 
 would kill her!'' How she would watch over him, 
 constantly fearing the possibility of his being torn 
 from her in the night ! She thought of all the chan- 
 ces she would ever have of seeing her husband again. 
 She wondered, should she flee to Canada or the free 
 States, how he would ever find her. Then she was 
 anxious as to whether he would ever return to her 
 again. Oh, if she only dared approach her master, 
 
ANOTHEK CLASS OF SLAVES. 127 
 
 
 
 and plead for his return ! But such a thought was 
 useless, hopeless! She could but follow his parting 
 advice, and make her escape with her child. 
 
 Purcey's idea of the world, as we may know, was 
 not extensive. It was, in fact, rather simple. The 
 distance from North to South, from bondage to free- 
 dom, while apparently great, did not seem to her 
 simple mind so far as to discourage her in making an 
 attempt to reach the North, and thus, at least, obtain 
 freedom for herself and child. She believed that 
 William would be true to his word, and would, at 
 the very first opportunity, make his escape. But 
 what if Judge Coleman should sell him to the traders 
 and he be taken to the far South ? She knew that 
 in this event his chances of escape would be very 
 poor. When she would think of his being thus sold, 
 a thrill of horror would pass over her, and her very 
 heart would sink within her. If she could only have 
 advised him to escape before he was taken out of the 
 State of Virginia, if she had only made him leave 
 when he told her he had been sold ! But, perhaps, 
 had he attempted to escape then he would only have 
 been captured, and then certainly sold South. All 
 these thoughts, and many others, passed through the 
 woman's mind, until she became so depressed in spirits 
 that life seemed hardly worth a struggle. 
 
 Elva. however, kept constantly advising her to 
 keep up and trust in the good Lord, that He was suf- 
 ficient for all things. Purcey, while she followed 
 her mother's advice, was inclined often to think that 
 
128 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 the Lord had forsaken the poor slaves. When she 
 would think of their sufferings, of their trials and 
 tribulations, she would often find her faith and con- 
 fidence in the Lord wavering , but when her mother 
 would cite to her instances of the Lord's goodness 
 and mercy, doubt and fear would vanish, and new 
 life, new hope, would spring up in her bosom. She 
 felt for her child's sake that she must obtain free- 
 dom. Why should her child be a child of bondage? 
 Why should he be reared and taught to acknowledge 
 another man as his master? Why should he be 
 brought up in ignorance and servitude? Perhaps it 
 was the Anglo-Saxon blood in her veins that lent 
 vigor to these thoughts, or it may have been the 
 promptings of a mind which was only stinted in in- 
 telligence from its surroundings, but which, if given 
 an opportunity for development, would have shone 
 as brightly as human minds are wont to shine. She 
 determined, however, to follow her husband's advice, 
 which would be carrying out the resolve she had 
 made while away with her mistress. 
 
 She set about making every preparation for her 
 escape. She had amassed quite a little sum of money, 
 which she had made by attention to visitors at the 
 Maxwell house. Her mistress was also very careless 
 at times with her pin-money, and, though it might 
 not have been strictly honest, yet Purcey had often 
 abstracted a quarter and a half-dollar which she added 
 to her little store of wealth. Having but little use 
 for money, her savings amounted to a considerable 
 
ANOTHER CLASS OF SLAVES. 129 
 
 sum. She had for a long time entertained the inten- 
 tion of purchasing her freedom previous to her mar- 
 riage, and this is why she worked so assiduously to 
 obtain the means to carry out her intention. 
 
 There were many strange features connected with 
 slavery, and not the least strange or magnanimous of 
 its features was the privilege given by many of the 
 slaveholders to their servants to purchase their free- 
 dom. There were many instances where advantage 
 was taken of this magnanimity. Men would pur- 
 chase their own liberty, and then hiring themselves 
 out, would purchase their wives and children by 
 their earnings. It took years, often, to accomplish 
 this end, but so great was the desire for freedom that 
 time was reckoned only by the cost of liberty. There 
 are many living to-day who, having purchased their 
 own freedom, sold themselves into bondage again, 
 and, with the money thus realized, purchased wife 
 and child. Again and again, have men and women 
 sold themselves to purchase the liberty of some loved 
 one. What a traffic, what a business for man to en- 
 gage in against man ! But this was one of the bless- 
 ings of slavery. The master who gave such a priv- 
 ilege to his slaves was an angel compared with those 
 who denied it. There were many of this class of ne- 
 groes in the South, and they were proscribed by master 
 and slave. Notwithstanding this, they were thrifty 
 and ambitious. In many sections, where the preju- 
 dice was not too strong, they accumulated comfort- 
 able fortunes and engaged in profitable business. 
 
 9 
 
130 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 "Free niggers" is what they were termed, and great 
 <jare was taken to keep as wide a gulf between them 
 and the slave class as possible. 
 
 There was also another class of people peculiar to 
 the South, who were far more despicable than a free 
 negro or a slave. They were the poor unfortunate 
 whites, unfortunate from the fact that they did not 
 own any of their fellow-men. They were despised 
 by the master, mistrusted by the slave, and treated 
 with contempt by the free negro. Despised as they 
 were by all classes, they still had many great advan- 
 tages over the poor slave. They were white ; hence, 
 their backs were spared from the lash. They were 
 
 Jr / 
 
 men before the law, and no cruel master could sever 
 their family ties. Yet they found life a burden, and 
 their circumstances seldom changed. They were left 
 to eke out a miserable existence by stealing, begging, 
 or any other means they might employ. The feeling 
 of hatred which existed between them and the slaves, 
 was both universal and mutual. There was no work 
 that they could not be employed to perform, espec- 
 ially such pleasing employment as negro-catching. 
 They were the human blood hounds of the South, the 
 baccilli of the country. They were to be found in 
 the valleys and mountains, and tradition says that 
 they were frequently known to subsist on herbs, barks, 
 and wild roots. There was but one time in the year 
 when they found honest and remunerative, though 
 hard, labor. This was in the harvest season. Many 
 slave-holders would employ them to assist in harvest- 
 
ANOTHER CLASS OF SLAVES. 131 
 
 ing, and no slave was worked harder or longer than 
 were these "poor white trash," as the slaves called 
 them. A slave might have a holy reverence for a man 
 who owned a hundred of his brethren, but for a white 
 man who owned none he had not the least regard. 
 Living in a rude little hut in the mountain, within 
 a few miles of the Maxwell estate, was a family of 
 three, consisting of father, mother, and daughter. 
 They were living and true representatives of the 
 poorer class of whites. William Silvers was a man 
 who had seen some forty hard winters, was of long, 
 lank stature, with thin hair hanging about his head 
 like wax-ends. He was known throughout the neigh- 
 borhood as "Skinny." His wife was also of tall 
 stature, with a wiry frame, and worked in a harvest 
 field with as much activity as a man. Their daugh- 
 ter was a maid of some seventeen years, who kept the 
 family from starving because she made friends with 
 the slaves about the neighboring plantations, and 
 would receive from them many an apron of corn- 
 meal and pieces of bacon. The Silvers, like nearly 
 all of the poor whites, were very ignorant. Reading 
 and writing were lost arts to them, and the school- 
 house and church were places they never frequented. 
 Sallie Silvers and Purcey had long been friends. 
 This was in itself something very unusual, but when 
 it is considered that Purcey represented one of the 
 more intelligent class of slaves, the ordinary prejudice 
 that existed between the poor whites and the slaves 
 did not enter into her disposition. 
 
132 BOND AND FEEE. 
 
 Sallie had often been kindly treated by Purcey, 
 and the girl's devotion to her was really remarkable. 
 She had often declared that she longed for the time 
 to prove her friendship for Purcey. During Purcey 's 
 illness she frequently called at the house to inquire 
 about her, and evinced much solicitude about her re- 
 covery. When Purcey became convalescent, she was 
 often at her bedside, and would sit for hours convers- 
 ing and sympathizing with her. Sallie Silvers, 
 though seventeen years of age, white and free, could 
 not, as we have said, read or write ; and as she sat by 
 Purcey's bedside one day, Purcey said to her : 
 
 " Sallie, can you read ?" 
 
 "No," answered Sallie, "wish I could." 
 
 " Why don't you learn ?" 
 
 "Whose gwine to learn me? Ma and pa can't." 
 
 " Why," said Purcey, " I will teach you what lit- 
 tle I know, then you can teach yourself; but you 
 mustn't tell anybody." 
 
 "No, indeed!" said Sallie, "I wish I could read, 
 den I might be a lady some day." 
 
 Then Purcey told her what she had seen while 
 traveling with her mistress ; how, in big cities, she 
 could get along so nicely, because she was white, and 
 promised, that if she would hurry and learn to read 
 and write, she would tell her how to become a lady. 
 Purcey then gave her some money, and told her to 
 go to the village and purchase a book. Sallie fol- 
 lowed her instructions, and, until Purcey was per- 
 fectly well, she and Sallie Silvers were close com- 
 
ANOTHER CLASS OF SLAVES. 133 
 
 panions, and no one except Elva and themselves knew 
 why they were so often closeted. Purcey's object in 
 showing so much anxiety about Sallie's acquirement 
 of knowledge was known only to herself. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 THE FUGITIVES. 
 
 When Joe Berry and his companions were at- 
 tacked near the village of , they all separated 
 
 and ran in different directions. The direction which 
 they were to go was mutually understood, and, al- 
 though it was several days before they got together 
 
 again, they at last met near C , in Pennsylvania, 
 
 on the banks of the Susquehanna river. Our heroes 
 had all met with various adventures upon the road, 
 but every man had successfully eluded his pursuers, 
 notwithstanding the many difficulties they had to en- 
 encounter. Even Ben Myers, with his large feet 
 and dilapidated shoes, made his escape and joined 
 his friends. The adventures of some of them are 
 worth relating. Joe, after making his escape from 
 the rider of the ringbone horse, went directly to 
 the mountain ; he traveled during the greater por- 
 tion of the day, and well into the night Fearing 
 that he might get lost in the mountain, he attempted, 
 in the night, to find a road, and, if possible, get some 
 
 one to direct him to the town of H . He came 
 
 to what he supposed was a path, and which he thought 
 would lead him out of the mountain. After follow- 
 ing it for some distance, he felt his feet gradually 
 sinking under him, and began to struggle and clutch 
 violently at the surrounding shrubbery and tufts of 
 
 [134] 
 
THE FUGITIVES. 135 
 
 grass, but these afforded him no support, and he kept 
 sinking until his body sank partly below the earth. 
 He then clutched at the soft earth about him, which 
 only crumbled in his hands. Down, down he went, 
 until several feet below the surface, when the earth 
 seemed to cave in and wedge his body in so tight that 
 only his arms were free, which he had been thought- 
 ful enough to keep above his head. Yainly did 
 he struggle to extricate himself. He clutched, he 
 grabbed, he struggled until he became perfectly ex- 
 hausted. During the night, a terrific rain-storm set 
 in, and the water rushed in upon him until he thought 
 he was doomed to a living grave. For two days 
 and nights did Joseph Berry remain almost entombed 
 in that ditch. He had given up all hope of ever 
 extricating himself, and had resigned himself to suf- 
 fer a slow, painful death. 
 
 The hours seemed like days, and the days months. 
 He had struggled until his strength had become ex- 
 hausted several times, but, being a resolute as well as 
 a powerful man, on the third night of his imprison- 
 ment, after regaining strength, he made an effort to free 
 his feet. By terrific straining, he succeeded. Pressing 
 his elbows against the side of the ditch, he raised his 
 body ; the mud and water flowed under his feet, giv- 
 ing him a slight but treacherous foot-hold. He 
 worked his body up this way until his head was 
 above the surface, and, at last, by summoning all of 
 his remaining strength, he threw himself upon the 
 earth. There he lay for several hours, being too 
 
136 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 much weakened to move. As soon as he became 
 sufficiently strong to move about, he crawled to a 
 neighboring farm-house where, fortunately, the peo- 
 ple were friendly. They gave him every attention, 
 and in a few days he joined his companions, bearing 
 the evidences of his adventure. 
 
 The Widow Dean's Jim also had a very remark- 
 able adventure. After Jim left the widow's bed and 
 board so unceremoniously, without even giving his 
 dear old mistress an affectionate farewell, that kind 
 old lady set a heavy reward upon his head. So de- 
 sirous was she for his return, that the services of a 
 man was engaged, who never was known to start out 
 for a runaway slave without capturing him. This 
 important personage was well known among the 
 slaves, and as his business required a knowledge of 
 the slaves, there were few whom he did not know. 
 Jim, being rather a conspicuous figure, owing to his 
 natty way of dress and the great liberty he had al- 
 ways enjoyed, was as well known to Si Blackson as 
 an intimate friend, for often had Si, the " nigger- 
 catcher," as he was called, remarked, when seeing 
 Jim pass, " That nigger has as much privilege as a 
 white man." 
 
 The Widow Dean sent for this gentleman, sup- 
 plied him with all the necessary funds, and di- 
 rected him to follow Jim to the end of the earth, 
 if necessary, to capture him ; but in the event of his 
 capture, he was to be returned unharmed, or no re- 
 ward would be forthcoming. Si Blackson set out 
 
THE FUGITIVES. 137 
 
 upon his mission, advertising in every town and 
 village, giving a thorough description of the man 
 of whom he was in search. Several times he was 
 close upon Jim's track, but did not succeed in cap- 
 turing him. Jim became separated from the rest of 
 the party when they were attacked, and made as di- 
 rectly for the point at which they had agreed to meet 
 as he could. He went very cautiously, however, 
 avoiding all towns or main roads. He struck the 
 course of the Susquehanna river, and coming in sight 
 of a small town, thought he would risk getting some- 
 thing to eat. Jim had changed his rich broadcloth 
 for Virginia home-spun ; his hair was clipped close ; 
 his usual swinging gait was changed to a steady, firm 
 tread, making it difficult to recognize him in his 
 disguise. He walked up to the only inn in the town 
 and asked for something to eat The landlord of the 
 place said to him : 
 
 "Where are you bound for, young man?" 
 
 This question put Jim to thinking, so in order to 
 avoid any suspicion, he said : 
 
 " I am on the hunt for work, sir." 
 
 "Where are you from? " 
 
 " York, sir," was the prompt reply. 
 
 " Well, I want a stable-boy, and I think you will 
 suit me. What's your name? " 
 
 "Dick Davis, sir," replied Jim. 
 
 "All right, Dick, go into the kitchen and get some- 
 thing to eat, and then come out to the stable. I shall 
 show you what to do," 
 
138 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 Jim had no intention, at first, of stopping at this 
 place to work ; but he had been caught so neatly that 
 he concluded to work a few days, then quietly slip 
 away and proceed on his journey, intending, in the 
 meantime, to secure whatever information he could 
 relative to the country he had to travel through. 
 The idea of changing his name occurred to him as 
 soon as the question was put to him by the landlord, 
 for Jim intuitively realized that there was more 
 safety in traveling under an assumed name than un- 
 der his real name. He knew, also, that he would be 
 advertised, and in the advertisement, a description of 
 him as well as his name would appear. 
 
 The fugitives had been informed that they would 
 strike the Underground Eailroadin Pennsylvania, and 
 it was understood that a section of it was to be found 
 
 in the town of H . This is why they all made 
 
 for this point, or, it is probable, they might never 
 have met again. 
 
 This wonderful institution, which proved the safe 
 conductor of many a child of bondage to free- 
 dom, must ever remain dear to the hearts of many 
 a one of the present generation. The prayers 
 that have been sent up to Heaven by the delivered, 
 for the protection and blessing of the noble-hearted 
 men and women who directed it, have been answered 
 on more than one occasion. Many of these noble 
 souls have long since been gathered home to their re- 
 ward, but, through the intelligence of one of them, a 
 representative of our race, the record of their glorious 
 
THE FUGITIVES. 139 
 
 work has been preserved, and it will be perused in 
 future years with increased interest. 
 
 Dick Davis, or the Widow Dean's Jim, soon be- 
 came a favorite about the tavern, and picked up many 
 an odd penny by his attention to the quadrupeds and 
 the boots of travelers. He had about made up his 
 mind to leave his new employer, when one morning, 
 shortly after this decision, a stranger rode up to the tav- 
 ern all bespattered with mud, and his horse covered 
 with foam. He dismounted, threw the bridle rein 
 to Dick, and directed him to take his horse to 
 the stable, feed him, and rub him down well, toss- 
 ing Dick, at the same time, a silver quarter. Dick 
 walked off to the stable leading the horse, and his 
 heart worked its way up into his very mouth, for he 
 recognized in this stranger no less a person than Mr. 
 Si Blackson. There is a common saying among white 
 people that they cannot tell one negro from another. 
 Never place any confidence in this statement, for when 
 you take a real Southerner, he may have a hundred 
 negroes upon his plantation, yet he will pick any one 
 of them out from among a million every time. 
 
 Human nature is human nature, whether it be 
 adorned in white or black. 
 
 There are numerous things which men do instinct- 
 ively, and often by so doing either attract attention 
 unintentionally to or from themselves. It may have 
 been from instinct, or it may have been prompted by 
 a suspicion of mutual recognition that Si Blackson, 
 upon entering the tavern door, turned around, either 
 
140 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 to look after his horse, or at the retreating figure of 
 Dick. Dick turned his head at the same time, and 
 their eyes met. If there was any recognition on the 
 part of Si Blackson, he showed no evidence of it, but 
 walked up to the bar of the tavern, gulped down the 
 contents of a glass filled with brandy, and ordered 
 his breakfast. It was one of those beautiful spring 
 mornings, the sun was stealing out from the light, over- 
 hanging clouds which appeared to shake themselves 
 out of their folds, after being pinned back to permit 
 the heavier clouds, which had rolled away or vanished 
 into mist, to pass on. Mr. Blackson seated himself 
 upon a bench, and pulled out a varied assortment of 
 colored cards, calculated to attract the eye. Having 
 selected a bright-colored one, he walked out to the 
 stable. There he found Dick grooming his horse. 
 Jim, alias Dick, had been haunted by many misgiv- 
 ings from the moment he saw Si Blackson ride up to 
 the tavern door , he knew that Blackson was in search 
 of him, and he also knew it would be inexpedient to 
 try and avoid him. He knew, furthermore, that Si 
 Blackson was only one man, and he had determined 
 that no one man on earth should ever capture him 
 and return him to slavery alive. 
 
 He had, by some means, secured a pistol, which 
 he kept well primed and always upon his person. 
 When Blackson entered the stable, Dick continued 
 grooming the horse, apparently not noticing him, but 
 watching him closely out of the corner of his eye: 
 
THE FUGITIVES. 141 
 
 Blackson also watched him some time in silence, 
 when he said : 
 
 "Boy, have you got a box and hammer? " 
 
 "Yes, sir," replied Dick, and he procured those arti- 
 cles for Blackson. That worthy directed him to 
 carry them out into the road, and while Dick held 
 the box, he nailed up against a high fence the fol- 
 lowing advertisement: 
 
 KUNAWAY! A mulatto boy, age eighteen, about 
 five feet six inches in height, good features, hair 
 rather long and black, speaks very quick, dressed in 
 a full black suit of clothes, and very dandy in ap- 
 pearance. Twelve hundred dollars will be paid for 
 
 his return to Mrs. W. Dean, P B county, 
 
 Virginia. Five hundred dollars for any information 
 leading to his capture. N. B. Said runaway an- 
 swers to the name of Jim. No harm must be done 
 him. 
 
 Fifteen hundred dollars was the real reward offered 
 by the Widow Dean, but Mr. Blackson withheld 
 three hundred for himself. This is the card which 
 was tacked up, and James Seabury, alias Dick Davis, 
 stood there and innocently held the box for Blackson 
 to advertise a price upon his head. Dick did not 
 know what the card read, but he suspected what it 
 was, and while Blackson was at breakfast, Dick got 
 one of the kitchen maids to read it for him. He now 
 found himself in a predicament. Flight was next to 
 impossible, for that would only invite immediate 
 pursuit and certain capture. There was no one to 
 
142 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 whom he could appeal for advice, as he feared to 
 trust anybody about the tavern, notwithstanding they 
 had been so kind to him. He finally determined to 
 watch Mr. Blackson closely, and, immediately upon 
 that gentleman's departure, to take his own to a 
 more healthful retreat. 
 
 Mr. Blackson, having finished his breakfast, paid 
 his bill, then ordered his horse. After a few hurried 
 words with the landlord, he proceeded on his journey. 
 
 Dick's mind was greatly relieved when he saw him 
 depart. But what had he said to the landlord ? Was 
 he the subject of their conversation? He had no 
 means of ascertaining this, but in order not to attract 
 attention, he kept at his work apparently as disinter- 
 ested in the arrival and departure of the astute Mr. 
 Blackson, as he had been in the hundreds of other 
 travelers who frequented the tavern. The advertise- 
 ment attracted a great deal of attention, and was the 
 subject of much comment by the loiterers about the 
 tavern. It was not an unusual thing, however, in that 
 locality, or perhaps he might have been apprehended 
 at once. 
 
 Nearly all runaways were published in this or 
 some other way, and their pursuers would often 
 carry them into the courts of a State, if necessary to 
 prove their property. In all the vast territory of this 
 great country, the poor, hunted, fugitive slave had no 
 protection. "Prove your property and take it" was 
 the decree of the Government, and he who aided or 
 abetted the escape of his fellow-man from bondage to 
 
THE FUGITIVES. 143 
 
 freedom was a criminal before the law. No part of 
 this great country was held sacred from the tread of 
 the negro-hunter, and none of the statutes of its law 
 threw around the fugitive a single mantle of protec- 
 tion. The deepest-dyed villain, committing a crime 
 in one State, could flee to another, necessitating the 
 carrying out of important forms of law before his re- 
 turn. But these creatures, guilty of no greater crime 
 than trying to obtain that for which hundreds of noble 
 men have suffered death, were hunted like beasts of 
 the forest, and, when found, returned to abject servi- 
 tude. What a travesty on j ustice ! There is a land, how- 
 ever, which proved an asylum for them, and no man 
 who sought to deprive another of his liberty dared 
 set foot upon its soil for that purpose. It was to this 
 asylum that thousands fled, and found refuge and pro- 
 tection. 
 
 Dick worked in a state of agony and suspense all 
 day. Often was he tempted to tear down that pla- 
 card, but dared not. He concluded that, under the 
 cover of night, and before the sun rose the next day, 
 he must put as many miles as possible between him 
 and that place; and when the shadows of night closed 
 in upon that little wayside inn, when the inmates were 
 wrapped in sweet slumber, this being, not yet a man 
 by the law of the land, stole softly from the place 
 where he had sought refuge for several days. 
 
 He went directly to the river. Finding a boat 
 moored there, he rowed himself across and set the 
 boat adrift, never stopping for rest or refreshment 
 
144 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 until he reached the town of H . Here, he 
 learned that his companions had taken the Under- 
 ground Railroad for Canada, only a couple of days be- 
 fore. In a day or two, Si Blackson returned to the 
 tavern where he had left Dick. He was now upon 
 his return home, having thoroughly placarded the 
 country with descriptions and rewards for the appre- 
 hension of the runaway. Upon reaching the tavern, 
 he was struck by the absence of the urbane stable- 
 boy, and made inquiries as to his whereabouts. When 
 informed that Dick had rather unceremoniously taken 
 his leave, Mr. Blackson began to have suspicions, and 
 finally the conviction dawned upon him like the ef- 
 fulgence of a noon-day sun, that the very man who 
 had held the box for him to stand upon, two days be- 
 fore, was the identical James Seabury, for whom he 
 was in quest. Mr. Blackson made the air blue with 
 his curses ; he raved and tore about the place like a 
 madman, and as no one could give him any informa- 
 tion as to what direction Dick had taken, he turned 
 his horse's head in the same direction whence he had 
 just come, going in precisely a contrary direction to 
 that which Dick had taken. 
 
 The Widow Dean never recovered her lost pro- 
 perty, but Mr. Blackson charged her well for his use- 
 less advertising and Jiis exhaustive but fruitless hunt 
 for the fugitive. 
 
 Joe Berry, his brother, Henry, and the rest of the 
 party, upon coming within a few miles of the town 
 of H , were met in the mountain by a con- 
 
THE FUGITIVES. 145 
 
 ductor of the Underground Railroad, who conducted 
 them, under cover of night, to the residence of a 
 friend in the town. Although they were not entirely 
 out of danger, the air seemed lighter, the heavens 
 looked brighter, their step was more elastic, and their 
 spirits more buoyant. They were quartered in the 
 house of this friend until the train was made up, when 
 they were dispatched through to Canada, by the way 
 
 of E , Pennsylvania, across the lake into freedom. 
 
 When the Canadian shore heaved in sight, this band 
 of fugitives bowed their heads in prayer. And such 
 a prayer as went up from those untutored hearts ! 
 They stepped upon the shores of Canada, happy that 
 they were at last free. Free ! Ah, what a word ! They 
 had never realized its meaning before. Free to roam 
 all over those shores, free to go, free to come, free 
 from the cruel sting of the lash, free from the hot 
 scorching sun of the corn-field and the tobacco plan- 
 tation, free from massa, free from missa ! No wonder 
 they sang with soul-inspired strains : 
 
 Sing praises to Jehovah we are free, 
 
 Safe on the shores of Canada. 
 Let us unite in heart and hand, 
 
 And shout for joy in the freedmen's land. 
 
 10 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 PUPIL AND TEACHER. 
 
 The anxiety on the part of Sallie Silvers to learn 
 to read and write, as the necessary accomplishments 
 to become a lady, was so very great that she soon 
 mastered these obstacles in her way. She improved 
 the little opportunity she had, and, assisted by the little 
 knowledge of Purcey, became, in a short time, quite 
 conversant with general topics from whatever papers 
 she could secure. There being no restrictions against 
 her purchasing books and papers, she procured many of 
 these useful articles with the money supplied her by 
 Purcey. Together they learned rapidly, and Purcey 
 took every advantage of the pre-arranged plans 
 agreed upon between her and her mother. All the 
 rich and costly dresses given her by her mistress 
 were cut and fitted to Sallie. Purcey's inability to 
 attend her mistress had been stretched to the fullest 
 limit, and both she and her mother feared that, unless 
 she soon took her departure, something might inter- 
 vene to prevent it. Her mother contributed quite a 
 little sum of money to that which Purcey had, and 
 she was now ready to start. 
 
 All arrangements being completed, she and her 
 mother took Sallie into their confidence. The scheme 
 proposed for Purcey's contemplated escape was care- 
 
 [146] 
 
PUPIL AND TEACHER. 147 
 
 fully and skillfully arranged by Elva. They had the 
 utmost confidence in Sallie, whose desire to travel 
 and become a lady was so great that she hesitated 
 not a moment to enter into the suggestions presented 
 to her by Purcey Her mountain home, with its pov- 
 erty and hardships, grew inferior and distasteful to 
 her, as rare pictures of a life of ease and comfort were 
 displayed to her. 
 
 She had now learned something of the world, and 
 urged by that ambition so prevalent in youth, she 
 yearned for an opportunity to better her condition in 
 life. She never realized what slavery was, as she had 
 seen it only from a point where its terrors had not 
 impressed her with any objection to the evil, and 
 never until Purcey related to her her cruel separa- 
 tion from her husband did she realize its horrors. She 
 became, then, an earnest sympathizer with the people 
 who were made to suffer in bondage, as well as a fit 
 subject to aid in carrying out the projected plans of 
 Purcey and her mother. Sallie was now informed 
 that she was to travel as the mistress of Purcey, and 
 under this guise was to go North into a free country 
 She must go and inform her parents that she had 
 found employment which would keep her from home 
 for some time. This would prevent them from mak 
 ing any inquiries as to her whereabouts, or suspecting 
 her connection with Purcey 's escape. 
 
 So enthusiastic was Sallie when she thought of the 
 elegant dresses she was to wear, and how, for the first 
 time in her life, she was to assume the role of a 
 
148 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 wealthy lady, she fairly danced for joy, and grew 
 impatient for the hour to start. 
 
 Much difficulty was experienced in packing their 
 things, as the greatest caution had to be used. Then 
 some one must be found to conduct them safely to 
 the river. This was delegated to Elva, who succeeded 
 in securing Uncle Joshua, one of Mr. Biggers' seduc- 
 tive and most trusty servants. Uncle Josh had, for 
 a long time, been trying to pay his " 'dresses," as he 
 called it, to Elva. The shining orb of all his hopes 
 was Sister Elva ; he thought of her by day and 
 dreamed of her by night. She was the one being 
 needful to his happiness, and when favored by her 
 company, though on the shady side of sixty, he as- 
 sumed the activity of one in the prime of life. For 
 Elva, he would have taken nine and thirty on his 
 bare back he had taken it more than once for things 
 far less valuable. For her, he would have risked steal- 
 ing one of his master's young shoats ; she was the 
 "charm of his heart" and the "apple of his eye," and 
 when Elva approached him on the question of ap- 
 propriating a horse and wagon of his master's to con- 
 vey a friend of hers to the river, Uncle Josh's black 
 face broke up into a broad grin, as he said : 
 
 "Sartinly, Sister Elva; I'd go anywhar for you. 
 I'd tote dem on my back to 'blige you." 
 
 "Do you think you could git back in time and 
 not be caught? 'cause I wouldn't want you to git in 
 any trouble," and Elva gave him one of her sweetest 
 smiles. 
 
PUPIL AND TEACHER. 149 
 
 Uncle Josh was lifted to the seventh heaven of 
 hope when he saw that smile. He replied, with an air 
 of confidence and bravado : " 'Scovered, chile ? 
 trouble? Don't you weep for me, for by de help 
 of de good Lord, I'll be back and hab dat critter in 
 de field 'fore Mars Biggers turn ober for de secon' 
 nap." 
 
 This having been satisfactorily arranged, Uncle 
 Josh arrived on time with the wagon. The things 
 were stowed away, and Purcey bade farewell to her 
 mother, and with her child and Sallie Silvers, dressed 
 in one of Mrs. Maxwell's fine silks, set her face 
 toward freedom. There was not a soul upon the 
 Maxwell place, excepting Elva. who knew of Pur- 
 cey 's flight, and the parting between mother and 
 daughter was very affecting. They remained for a 
 moment embraced in each other's arms, while tears 
 flowed down from their eyes, and prayers poured 
 forth from their hearts. The parting was, indeed, a 
 sad one, as it was the last embrace the mother ever 
 received from the daughter, or the daughter from 
 the mother. 
 
 The one was leaving her who had given her birth, 
 to find liberty ; while the other consigned herself to 
 hopeless servitude to protect the life and make se- 
 cure the flight of her child. Elva had all of that love 
 and affection which abounds in the heart of a loving 
 mother, but over this particular child, she displayed 
 greater solicitude than for Emiline or Elo. If there 
 be any such thing as being fated, such was the case, 
 
150 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 Elva thought, of these two. They were, in common 
 with many other slaves, satisfied with their lot. Nor 
 did they ever express a desire for liberty, or display 
 any disposition to be other than contented under 
 every and all circumstances. But how often had 
 her heart been caused to bleed for Purcey when she 
 looked upon her beauty, her natural endowments, 
 her tastes, though uncultivated, yet so refined ! She 
 asked herself the question, ' why should this, her 
 child, apparently endowed with all the higher attri- 
 butes of womanhood why should she remain a 
 slave? as fair as her mistress, as beautiful as any 
 woman could be, why should she not be free? ' 
 Then she knew that as long as Purcey was held in 
 bondage, she would be a victim to the lust of those 
 who might be disposed to possess themselves of her. 
 Like all slaves, in her master's eye, a price was upon 
 her. head, and who could tell the day, the hour, when 
 she might be transferred from Jonathan Maxwell to 
 a master with less regard for virtue? 
 
 At last they parted, and when Uncle Josh drove 
 away, Elva entered the house a changed woman. She 
 determined that, at the risk of her own life, Jonathan 
 Maxwell should never pursue her child. Life had no 
 more charms for her; she felt that she had nothing 
 more to live for, but to make secure the escape to free 
 dom of her child. She was, doubtless, actuated in this 
 belief by a sense that Grod had spared her to be a me- 
 dium which must stand between Purcey's escape and 
 the possibility of her recapture. She would not hesi- 
 
PUPIL AND TEACHER. 151 
 
 tate now to dye her hands in her master's blood, if 
 needs be, to save her child. When she entered the 
 house, she fell upon her knees and asked for guid 
 ance, for strength, for intelligence, that she might be 
 able to act. When she arose, Elva Berry was a 
 changed woman. Her beautiful black eyes glowed 
 with a new, but dangerous, light ; her lips were 
 bloodless, her teeth were tightly clenched, while her 
 hands worked convulsively. She felt as though she 
 possessed the strength of a lion, and she was now 
 ready to throw herself between the fleeing daughter 
 and any power that dared obstruct her in her flight. 
 
 Uncle Josh plied the whip to his master's horse, 
 and, without a single stop during that long ride, sue 
 ceeded in landing the whole party safely at the ferry 
 They had taken the precaution to unload their bag 
 gage and send Uncle Josh off before they aroused 
 the ferryman. That worthy came forth rubbing his 
 eyes, and, after being induced by a liberal reward, 
 took them safely across the river to a point where 
 tickets were purchased by Sallie. These tickets 
 sufficed to carry them some distance, but they left 
 the road many miles from the place intended, and ob- 
 tained tickets in an entirely different direction. 
 
 When Uncle Josh turned his master's horse to- 
 ward home, he chuckled to himself as he felt the four 
 silver half-dollars in his pocket, which Purcey had 
 given him. The horse was pretty tired, and he al- 
 lowed him to jog quietly along, while he gave him- 
 self up to thoughts about Sister Elva and the silver 
 
152 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 half-dollars. He had been thus ruminating for some 
 time, when his horse came to a full stop. Uncle Josh 
 was of a very superstitious nature, like the most of 
 slaves ; he had all kinds of beliefs. He was looked 
 upon as possessing certain mysterious powers himself. 
 He had voodooed, or conjured, it was said, quite a 
 number of enemies, having been known to boil nails 
 in a pot over a slow fire while he went through a 
 peculiar incantation, his victim, in the meantime, 
 writhing in pain and crawling upon all fours. He 
 was never found without a rabbit's foot in his pocket, 
 or a piece of opossum skin tied around his left wrist. 
 In addition to this, he possessed a bag of lizard dust. 
 He was held in awe and reverence by all the negroes 
 who knew him. For to incur Uncle Josh's displeasure 
 was to meet some day with some terrible misfortune. 
 
 Like many others of his race, who laid claim to the 
 possession of these mysterious powers, he was very 
 cunning. It was not the deep, designing cunning, or 
 craftiness, of a more intelligent mind, but that low 
 cunning born of instinct, such as a fox is noted for, 
 or such as is unaccompanied by perfect reason. He 
 succeeded, however, in keeping those around him in 
 perfect fear of his hidden powers, while at the same 
 time he did not possess enough to keep his back from 
 being well scarred by Mr. Biggers' overseer. 
 
 He was not unlike all others of his class in league 
 with unseen powers, or the imps of darkness. They 
 all failed to practice any of their arts upon their mas- 
 ters, and this is why so many doubt the efficacy of 
 
PUPIL AND TEACHER. 153 
 
 their work. It may be that a white man was not 
 susceptible to their charms, or it may be they feared 
 to practice upon that race. Nevertheless, it is a fact 
 that no voodoo doctor, conjurer, or enchanter was 
 ever known to make his master pine away, imitate a 
 quadruped, or endure any of the other various suffer- 
 ings which these sons of the hidden arts were said to 
 cause. 
 
 When Uncle Josh's horse stopped, he backed in 
 the shafts, staggered, and fell, snapping one in twain. 
 Uncle Josh sprang to the ground with the agility of 
 a youth ; he looked up and down the road, for he be- 
 lieved something had appeared before the horse, caus 
 ing him to stumble and fall. Uncle Josh always 
 claimed that if a horse stopped still in the road, 
 pricked up his ears, and refused to go, all one had to 
 do was to look between his ears, and he could see the 
 cause of the horse's fright. The horse was now in 
 such a position that he could not well see between 
 his ears, for the animal was lying upon the ground 
 quite still, and his body beginning to assume the pro- 
 portions of a bloated herring. The old man did all 
 in his power to coax the horse upon his feet-, he 
 pleaded to him, he raised his head, he unfastened the 
 harness and pushed the wagon away from his heels. 
 
 Walking around his body, he set up one of his pe- 
 culiar incantations, but all to no avail. He took from 
 his pocket a bag made of rabbit skin, which contained 
 some kind of pulverized roots. The contents he scat- 
 tered around this being to keep away anything evil- 
 
154 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 disposed. After spending much time in a useless at 
 tempt to get his horse upon his feet, the old man 
 looked up at the heavens, and discovered the gray 
 dawn of morning stealing from over the eastern hills. 
 He knew well what his back would have to take 
 should he be missed by the overseer, and to be 
 caught with his master's horse and wagon would be 
 worse yet. Then they might, perhaps, force him to 
 tell what he was doing out all night with the horse 
 and wagon. This he determined never to reveal, let 
 come what would. 
 
 When Uncle Josh saw morning approaching so 
 closely, his efforts to get the horse upon his feet be- 
 came more and more frantic and ludicrous. He tugged 
 at his tail, he raised his head and tried to get that part 
 of the horse's anatomy upon his back, murmuring to 
 himself, " You'se got to go home before daylight, if 
 I has to tote you." Looking up the road, he saw a 
 man approaching him, who was just about to turn off 
 of the main road and enter a lane. Uncle Josh dis- 
 covered that he was a slave just returning from a 
 night's revel. He hailed the man : 
 
 "See har, come bar, honey, and help me git dis 
 boss on my back , he's got to go home, for it's dead 
 nigger or dead hoss, anyways." 
 
 The man came forward, and when he looked at the 
 ludicrous situation, he laughed loudly and said : 
 
 'What's de matter, Uncle? 7 ' 
 
 "Lors, honey, I'se got to git dis hoss home 'fore 
 
PUPIL AND TEACHER. 155 
 
 daylight, and he's done gone laid down on me and 
 won't move." 
 
 The man happened to have some knowledge of 
 horse-flesh, and after a careful examination, said : 
 
 "You've drove him hard, Uncle, but guess we can 
 bring him about." 
 
 He went to work, and in a short time had the ani- 
 mal upon his feet. The horse was hitched to the 
 wagon , and Uncle Josh, profuse with thanks, mounted 
 his seat and soon reached home. He had just time 
 to turn the horse into the field, when the overseer's 
 horn blew for all hands to turn out. Mr. Biggers 
 was minus, from this escapade, the use of one of his 
 best horses, for the one Uncle Josh drove so hard 
 that night was hopelessly foundered, and the slaves 
 accounted for it by declaring that the witches had 
 ridden the animal to death. 
 
 The superstition, which was so prevalent among 
 the slaves, was not confined to them alone, for it af- 
 fected the masters as well. There was not a South- 
 ern slaveholder, cruel to his slaves, who was not as 
 abject a prey to superstitious fears as the most ignor 
 ant of his negroes. Our knowledge of the character of 
 Abraham Biggers would place him among this class. 
 When he heard of one of his best horses being hope- 
 lessly foundered over night, instead of seeking the 
 true cause, sought solace in brandy and water, and 
 attributed his loss to unknown ill luck. 
 
 Purcey and Sallie were speeding along, placing 
 as great a distance between them and the old home 
 
156 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 as the great iron monster could make with each rev- 
 olution of the great driving-wheels. The two women 
 did not occupy the same car, for that was not custom. 
 The alleged mistress and her servant were separated 
 during the entire distance they traveled on the rail- 
 road. Each was left alone to meditate and allow her 
 thoughts to indulge in whatever caprice she saw fit. 
 The thoughts of Purcey were freighted with fear; al- 
 though there was much noise in the car, made by a 
 number of rough, coarse men, who made the air 
 dense with smoke from their pipes and cigars and 
 almost blue with their curses, yet she seemingly saw 
 not nor heard a thing that was said or done. She 
 was the object of many insulting and brutal remarks, 
 for it was in the men's car she rode. Many comments 
 were passed upon her appearance and value. 
 
 The girl had employed every art she knew to make 
 herself look simple and plain, but her efforts in this di- 
 rection seemed to have made her, on the contrary, 
 all the more beautiful and attractive. She had con. 
 cealed her luxurious black hair, now grown again 
 since her recovery, under a neat little cap, which 
 nicely displayed the beautiful outlines 'of her face. 
 Her child, asleep upon her lap, caused her much anx- 
 iety ; she knew that a heavy reward would be offered 
 by her master for her capture, and she feared that 
 she would be detected through the child. Its hair 
 was long and black like the mother's. It had been 
 Purcey 's delight and pride to do it up in curls, which 
 hung gracefully about its shapely head. As she sat 
 
PUPIL AND TEACHER. 157 
 
 there and gazed upon the sleeping infant, she con- 
 cluded that those curls must be cut off. Puree j was 
 of very fair complexion, and the child was but a 
 shade or two darker than the mother. How she 
 wished for the power to change its complexion as 
 easily as she could cut off those locks, knowing as 
 she did how accurate would be the description given 
 by her master! Having decided to cut off the child's 
 hair, she produced from her pocket a pair of shears 
 and began the work of despoliation. As she took 
 up each one of those shining black curls and severed 
 it with the sharp shears, it seemed that each clip sent 
 a thrill of pain to her heart. She had to perform the 
 work quietly, so as not to attract the attention of 
 those around her, and when she had finished she 
 gathered the ringlets in her hand and pressed them 
 to her lips. Quietly raising the car window, she 
 threw them out, keeping but a single curl which she 
 pressed to her bosom, then to her lips, and then con- 
 cealed it in her pocket-book. 
 
 The money with which Purcey had supplied her- 
 self was worn in a canvas belt, placed about her waist 
 Being in coin, it was a terrible weight for her to carry. 
 It must have tired her greatly, yet she heeded not the 
 excessive physical strain upon her; she thought only 
 of the time which seemed to lengthen itself out. How 
 slow the cars seemed to travel ! How she longed and 
 wished for the hour when she should place her foot 
 upon free soil ! She could not sleep, she could not 
 eat, yet she felt strong. She would close her eyes 
 
158 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 and count the seconds ; they seemed to her like min- 
 utes. Her hand was kept upon her sleeping child, as 
 though she feared that some of the coarse, brutal men 
 who occupied the car would wrest it from her. 
 
 While sitting with her hand clasping the little 
 hands of her child, with her eyes closed, and her 
 mind wandering back to her mother and her husband, 
 who had been so ruthlessly taken from her, she felt 
 a rough hand grasp her shoulder. In a second she 
 was upon her feet, her hand sought her pocket, and 
 she stared, without a quiver of the lip or the twinkle 
 of an eye, into the face of the man who had so roughly 
 accosted her. 
 
 The man who stood before her was one of that type 
 of Southern gentlemen, from whose appearance it was 
 easy to detect that he was a "nigger trader." He 
 looked at Purcey with his bleared eyes, and said : 
 
 "Gal, where you travelin' to? " 
 
 "I am traveling with rny mistress," said Purcey. 
 
 " That ain't what I asked you. Whar you going ? " 
 
 Purcey, divining the man's object in asking the 
 question, as well as discovering that he had no sus- 
 picion about her, replied : " I don't know where my 
 mistress is going, as she never tells me her business." 
 
 " Well, whar you from ? " 
 
 " Eichmond," said Purcey. 
 
 " Air you and your mistress travelin' alone ? " 
 
 "We are." 
 
 " How would you like me for a master ? " And, as 
 
PUPIL AND TEACHER. 159 
 
 he said this, he puffed a volume of tobacco smoke 
 from his corn-cob pipe full in her face. 
 
 "I don't know," said the girl, turning her head to 
 avoid the smoke. 
 
 " Wai, I think I'll see your mistress ; by G d, I 
 would like to own a gal like you ; I'll give a thou- 
 sand down." 
 
 As he said this, the child, which had been lying 
 upon the seat, awoke, and began to cry. Purcey 
 turned toward it and sat it up, giving it a large glass 
 ball to play with. 
 
 "Wai," said the trader, "that's a likely-looking 
 brat. So you and your mistress are travelin', and 
 she 'lows y ou to take that brat along ? D m good 
 mistress. I'll go and see if I can strike a bargain 
 with her." 
 
 When he had turned his back, Purcey smiled, 
 and settled down into her seat. The trader retired 
 to one end of the car, where a group of his compan- 
 ions had a board placed upon their knees, and were 
 deeply engaged in a game of draw-poker. 
 
 " Say, Jamison," said the trader, as he approached 
 the party, " I am going to buy that wench over thar 
 with the brat" 
 
 " Well, go buy her, then," said Mr. Jamison. " Don't 
 bother me about it ; she ain't mine." 
 
 " Wai," said Mr. Sledger, " I know she ain't, but I 
 want you to drive the bargain for me." 
 
 " Who does she belong to ? Two cards ! " said Mr. 
 
160 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 Jamison, as lie threw a five dollar gold piece on the 
 board, and laid down two cards. 
 
 " To a young' woman in the other car. I can't talk 
 to women, and I want you to go and talk the busi- 
 ness." 
 
 Mr. Jamison was, in appearance, as well as in 
 speech, far more genteel than Mr. Sledger. Jamison 
 was a man of gentlemanly deportment, but fond of 
 sport ; and he gained a rather precarious existence as 
 a pettifog lawyer. His garments were of the shabby- 
 genteel order, and his silk tile, though of rather an 
 ancient pattern, was brushed to a glossiness that told 
 of much labor having been spent upon it. He was 
 smooth of speech, and an instrument in the hands of 
 men of unsavory character in their dealings with the 
 business world. In fact, he earned a living, in find- 
 ing loop-holes in the law for the escape of criminals, 
 and fixing doubtful papers to catch and hold runaway 
 slaves. He appeared not to like the interruption of 
 his sport. Being in luck, he raked in the contents 
 of the pot on a king full, and jumped up ^from the 
 game several dollars ahead, remarking that he must 
 attend to some business for his friend. 
 
 Mr. Sledger was very unlike the rather slick-look- 
 ing Jamison, being a heavily built man, with coarse, 
 vulgar features. A frowsy beard of terra cotta hue, 
 made so by frequent expectorations of tobacco juice, 
 covered his chin. His shirt front was far from being 
 immaculate, having upon it the traces of tobacco juice 
 and evidence of long wear. His large, unshapely head 
 
PUPIL AND TEACHER. 161 
 
 was adorned with a wide-brimmed slouch hat, under 
 which was a matted mass of shaggy hair. To say 
 the least, he was rather repulsive, and was. as he ad- 
 mitted, not calculated to approach any woman, espe- 
 cially a Southern lady, on a subject of purchasing a 
 likely-looking slave woman. Jamison was given to 
 understand that he was to seek the mistress of Par- 
 cey, and ascertain whether she was for sale. In case 
 she was not, he was to offer some inducement to ef- 
 fect a purchase. 
 
 " How am I to find the mistress ? " said Jamison. 
 
 " Go ask the gal which car she's in." 
 
 Mr. Jamison pulled himself together, looked down 
 at his boots, the toes of which were turned up much 
 like the little pug nose that adorned his weazen little 
 face. He approached Purcey unnoticed by her, as 
 she was intently gazing out of the window. Having 
 reached the seat where the girl was, Mr. Jamison re- 
 moved from his narrow, little mouth the remnants of 
 a cigar, which he had held between his teeth since 
 the commencement of that little game of poker. Lift- 
 ing his hat with mock civility, he said : 
 
 " Ah, young woman, in which car would I likely 
 find your mistress? " 
 
 Purcey, turning her head in the direction of the 
 speaker, said : " In the other car, sir, 1 ' without indicat- 
 ing which of the other cars she meant 
 
 " Ah, ah, the other car ! First car rear or second ? " 
 
 " I don't know, sir," she quietly replied. 
 11 
 
162 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 " Don't know ? Ah, well, how should I be likely 
 to know her? " 
 
 44 By making her acquaintance through an intro- 
 duction, sir/' 
 
 Mr. Jamison stepped back as though he had been 
 struck. He had never heard such clever language 
 used by a slave. He looked at the girl, who had 
 again turned her face toward the window, with a 
 puzzled air, and remarked, as he shuffled off : " Clever, 
 ah, very clever. I will seek an introduction through 
 some one else, if I can myself, if I cannot." 
 
 Mr. Jamison determined to trust to his -luck and 
 his astute powers in discovering the mistress, if she 
 was on the train. Entering the ladies' car, he saun- 
 tered through it, having deposited the unlighted 
 stump of his cigar in his coat pocket. When he got 
 nearly to the end of the car, he observed a lady sit- 
 ting alone rather richly attired, and reclining at ease, 
 using a very heavy shawl as a pillow. In her lap 
 lay a newspaper and a novel. She was young, not 
 at all unprepossessing, and apparently asleep, or in a 
 deep study. 
 
 Jamison scrutinized her as closely as he could in 
 ' walking by. He walked to the end of the car, re- 
 traced his steps, and, as he reached the seat, raised 
 his hat very high, bowed very low, and said : " Ah, 
 ah, miss, do the negro woman and child in the other 
 car belong to you ?" 
 
 " They do ;" and Sallie Silvers, for it was she, 
 
PUPIL AND TEACHER. 163 
 
 grew somewhat excited as she asked eagerly : " Why, 
 sir, has anything happened them ?" 
 
 "Ah ! ah ! no. They are all right. Only I have 
 been much attracted by them, and if they are for sale, 
 I should like to purchase them. I am a planter, and 
 assure you she would be well cared for and be in good 
 hands." 
 
 Sallie, to be sure, did not have a very extensive 
 knowledge of men ; her little education and experi- 
 ence had not advanced her quite that far, but she had 
 that natural cleverness of a woman which led her 
 to the conclusion that Mr. Jamison was rather a 
 poor specimen of a Southern planter. 
 
 Having reached this conclusion, she thought that 
 she had better give him to understand at once that he 
 could not make a purchase. Assuming all the dig- 
 nity she could, she said : 
 
 " The woman and child are not for sale, sir, and I 
 do not see what right you have to approach me upon 
 any such subject." 
 
 Mr. Jamison was a very cunning man, or we might 
 say, villain. This reply, under any other circum-' 
 stances, would never have daunted him ; but he had 
 approached a lone lady, a complete stranger to him, 
 in a railway car, and had asked an impertinent ques- 
 tion. Should he insist upon further conversation, he 
 feared she might appeal to some gentleman for protec- 
 tion, or, perhaps, she might have friends in the car 
 who would not hesitate to handle him roughly. He 
 bowed politely, stepping back as he said : 
 
164 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 "Ah ! beg pardon. No offense meant, none what- 
 ever, I assure you." 
 
 He, thereupon, quickly left the car. Joining Mr. 
 Sledger in the smoking-car, he informed that gentle- 
 man that it was no use, for money would not buy 
 the woman. Mr. Sledger was much incensed, and 
 replied : 
 
 " Then by G - I will steal her." 
 
 " What !" said Jamison, springing up as though he 
 had sat upon the business end of a tack. " Steal her ! 
 What in the devil will you do with the brat?" 
 
 " Yes, steal her and the brat, too. No trouble about 
 the young one." 
 
 This novel idea had struck Mr. Sledger the mo- 
 ment he learned that the girl could not be bought. 
 He intended to learn their destination, follow them, 
 and, at the first opportunity, kidnap the girl and 
 carry her off. Circumstances alter cases sometimes, 
 and Mr. Sledger was brought to a full realization of 
 this fact in a manner he had not anticipated. 
 
 Through tickets had been purchased by Sallie 
 for a certain point under Purcey's instructions, but 
 after having traveled a considerable distance from 
 home, Purcey concluded that, in order to elude her 
 pursuers, they had better get off at some small station, 
 and cross the country to some other point It was 
 now growing dark, and, under the cover of darkness, 
 they could leave the train at the next station without 
 attracting attention. 
 
 Arriving at this conclusion, she took her child, eu- 
 
PUPIL AND TEACHER. 165 
 
 tered the car where Sallie was, and communicated 
 her plan, which was, of course, agreed to by Sallie. 
 As Purcey left the seat which she had occupied in 
 the smoking-car, Mr. Sledger went in search of the 
 conductor to ascertain the destination of the lady who 
 had the negro nurse and child. The conductor in- 
 formed him that they had through tickets for one of 
 the large Northern cities, and they would have to 
 change cars at B - to take another road. Sledger 
 thought this his chance ; he would wait until they 
 reached B , then he woul,d try his hand at kid- 
 napping the girl. 
 
 Darkness had now enveloped within its folds the 
 surrounding country. The night was not only dark, 
 but dismal. The clang of the bell of the locomotive, 
 and the shrill whistle which denotes the approach to 
 a station, sounded upon the night air. The speed of 
 the train was slackened as the trainman shouted the 
 name of a small station. Purcey and Sallie gathered 
 up their packages, and quietly, almost unnoticed, stole 
 from the train. They did not alight upon the side on 
 which was the building used as a station, but upon 
 the opposite side. The wind now began to howl 
 frightfully, while rain poured down in torrents. The 
 women and child stood closely huddled together. 
 Shortly, the bell of the locomotive rang again, the 
 whistle tooted, the attendant shouted " All aboard ! " 
 and the train slowly pulled away, leaving them stand- 
 ing in front of the lonely little building. A dilapi- 
 dated stage-coach could be dimly discerned through 
 
166 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 the darkness from the light of a lantern that hung 
 inside. They approached the coach just as the driver 
 mounted his seat and drew up the lines, preparatory 
 to starting for the little village located some five miles 
 distant. 
 
 A solitary passenger occupied the coach. When 
 the driver discovered the two women and the child 
 approaching him, he was somewhat surprised, as he 
 did not see them alight from the train. Dropping 
 the lines, he got down from his seat and opened the 
 door for them. Sallie informed him that they desired 
 to go to the village, and would thank him to take 
 them to a stopping- place less public than the village 
 inn. They entered the coach ; the driver mounted 
 his seat, cracked his whip, and started off. 
 
 Their entrance disturbed the solitude of the only 
 occupant, a little old man with a very florid, but 
 smooth, face. A rim of silver-gray hair could be 
 discerned, although his hat was pulled over his eyes. 
 The old-fashioned jack-lantern which hung in the 
 center of the stage bumped from side to side with 
 every lurch the vehicle made, as it rolled slowly over 
 the rather rough road. The occupant of the coach 
 had evidently intended to make himself as comfort- 
 able as the circumstances would permit, thinking, 
 perhaps, that he would be the only passenger for the 
 few miles he had to journey. He had stretched his 
 feet across the seats, tucked his hands into his pockets, 
 with his hat well down over his eyes to keep out the 
 sickly glare of the old jack-lantern. He was, con- 
 
PUPIL AND TEACHER. 167 
 
 sequently, not in a very good humor by being dis- 
 turbed, and had to give up the solid comfort he had 
 intended to enjoy. He felt annoyed when the 
 women entered the coach, nor did the fact that his 
 traveling companions were to be females appear to 
 smooth his temper. Purcey and Salhe were also dis- 
 appointed when they found that they would have to 
 ride in company with a stranger. They dared not 
 exchange a word or look for fear of being discovered. 
 How to get rid of this unwelcome and unsolicited 
 companion was a puzzle. 
 
 Women are remarkable creatures in any emer- 
 gency ; they always have recourse to something. It 
 must be a very tight place where a woman of ordi- 
 nary tact and ability cannot squeeze through. Pur- 
 cey had conveyed to Sallie, without uttering a word, 
 that the little man must be gotten upon the outside 
 of the coach, and that she must do it. Sallie under- 
 stood that unless this was done, they would be un- 
 able to mature their plans before reaching the village. 
 
 The little man with the rim of gray hair, having 
 been forced to withdraw his feet from their comfort- 
 able position, sat with his knees drawn nearly up to 
 his chin ; and, from the occasional grunt which came 
 from the corner of the coach he occupied, the women 
 judged that he was either very much out of humor 
 with himself or with them. Purcey had made a 
 pallet for her child in a corner of the very seat upon 
 which the little old man sat. The child, entirely un- 
 conscious of its rudeness, was stretching and kicking 
 
168 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 out its feet so violently that the little man would have 
 gotten off the seat had there been any other to oc- 
 cupy. He kept crowding closer to the corner, while 
 with each gentle pinch given the child's leg by Pur- 
 cey, the old man was made more uncomfortable. 
 
 Sallie, seeing that it was now time for her to speak, 
 said, addressing Purcey : 
 
 " Perhaps you annoy the gentleman. You had bet- 
 ter take the child and sit outside." 
 
 There are but few men of Southern birth who are 
 not chivalrous and gallant. A genuine Southern 
 gentleman is ever ready to display his gallantry ; but 
 such gallantry was displayed for those of their own 
 color only. A black person was never entitled to 
 any recognition in this direction. Consequently, to 
 find a man in a Southern country who had any re- 
 gard or feeling for a black woman, under any circum- 
 stances, was to find a most uncommon man. Such 
 did the occupant of the coach, who was now well 
 wedged up in the corner of the stage, prove to be. 
 He may have been actuated by a sense of the un- 
 pleasantness of the situation, or, possibly, by a desire 
 to display his gallantry to Sallie. Whatever the 
 cause, the women were none the less successful in 
 their little piece of strategy, for without speaking a 
 word to them, he pushed open the door, commanded 
 the driver to stop, alighted from the coach, and took 
 a seat outside with the driver, leaving them to make 
 whatever arrangements they saw fit. 
 
 The train which left Sallie and Purcey at the little 
 
PUPIL AND TEACHER. 169 
 
 way station went on its course to the town of B . 
 
 Mr. Sledger, noticing that Purcey did not return, had 
 made a tour of inspection through the train. Failing, 
 of course, in finding her, he came back hurriedly and 
 informed Mr. Jamison. That gentleman had been 
 indulging in a series of cat naps, and rather lazily 
 rubbed his eyes, slowly taking in the excited man- 
 ner of his friend, who was prancing about the car 
 like a man without his wits. 
 
 "Ah ! Sledger, old boy, what in the deuce is the 
 matter?" 
 
 u Matter! Matter enough," said the irate Mr. Sled- 
 ger ; " why, that d woman with the brat has given 
 
 me the slip." 
 
 "Ah ! guess not, me boy ; she's in the other car 
 with her mistress." 
 
 " No, she ain't. I've been through the whole d 
 
 train, and can't find her anywhere." 
 
 By this time Mr Jamison had succeeded in rub- 
 bing his eyes open, and was becoming interested in 
 the conversation. 
 
 "Ah ! better ask the conductor. She must have 
 gotten off somewhere." 
 
 The conductor was sought, but nothing could be 
 learned of that official. Some two or three stations 
 had been stopped at, but he had not seen the lady 
 with the negro nurse and child alight at any of them. 
 This rather indefinite information did not bring 
 much solace to the ruffled bosom of Mr. Sledger, and 
 he consoled himself by consigning Mr. Jamison, Pur- 
 
170 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 cey, the entire train and all on board to a place where 
 overcoats are superfluous and fans at a premium. 
 Mr. Sledger was so very anxious to get possession of 
 the woman with the brat, as he expressed it, that he 
 would have returned, had he known where to go. 
 As it was, he missed making the rich speculation he 
 had intended, and did not have the pleasure of kid- 
 napping the girl. 
 
 Purcey and her companion were now the sole oc- 
 pants of the interior of the coach, and their plans as 
 to their next move on reaching the village were quietly 
 discussed. They were driven to the house of a respect- 
 able widow lady, where they found lodgings for the 
 night 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE JUDGE'S SISTER. 
 
 Judge Coleman had gone a number of miles, fol- 
 lowed by his recent acquisition to his fortune, when 
 he turned the head of his horse into one of those 
 long and beautiful lanes common in the Southern 
 country. Upon either side of this lane were planted 
 many tall poplar trees, which stood stately and erect 
 like silent sentinels. Up this beautiful avenue they 
 rode until the end was reached, when they came in 
 sight of one of those old but substantial stone houses, 
 partly concealed by the thick foliage of creeping vines 
 that grew around it. The judge rode around the house 
 to the rear, where numerous out-houses and stables 
 built of the same substantial material were located. 
 Having reached the gate which separated the stable- 
 yard from a garden laid out in beautiful flower plots, 
 where the poppy and chrysanthemum grew in pro- 
 fusion, he dismounted from his horse, bade William 
 follow his example, and directed him to remain there 
 with the horses. He then wal ked up to the rear door 
 of the mansion, and, without so much as lifting the 
 large brass knocker which hung upon the panel of 
 the door, entered. He was met, upon entering the 
 house, by a matronly-looking lady dressed in cap and 
 gown, and who addressed him as Jere. 
 
 [171] 
 
172 BOXD AND FKEE. 
 
 The reception accorded him was not a warm one. 
 The lady bowed somewhat stiffly, as she inquired, in 
 rather a surprised air: " Why, Jere, what brings you 
 here ? ' ? 
 
 The judge did not appear to like the inquisitive - 
 ness of the lady, and, without answering her ques- 
 tion, said : " Send a servant to show my man where 
 to put the horses." 
 
 " Your man, Jere ! What man? ' ; 
 
 " My black man. You don't suppose I am such a 
 beggar that I cannot afford a servant, do you ? " 
 
 To this rather discourteous remark, the lady made 
 no reply, but rang the bell, summoning a servant, 
 and directed him to attend to the judge's orders. 
 
 The lady who had just received the judge, in a man- 
 ner evincing that she had no great affection for him, 
 was the Widow Dean, whose acquaintance the reader 
 will now have an opportunity to form more closely. 
 The Widow Dean was Judge Coleman's only surviv- 
 ing relative, his sister. She was the relict of Colonel 
 Woodson Dean, who won distinction and shoulder- 
 straps in the Mexican war. Returning home, he ap- 
 plied himself to the cultivation of tobacco and the 
 enthrallment of his fellow-man. After spending a 
 life in extravagance and debauchery, he died, leaving 
 a widow almost penniless, but who remained faithful 
 to his memory. The Widow Dean had never admired 
 her brother's reckless manner of living ; besides, he 
 had so imposed upon her generosity as almost to im- 
 poverish her. He had obtained a considerable amount 
 
THE JUDGE'S SISTER. 173 
 
 of money, which he never returned her. While Judge 
 Coleman's sister always extended the hospitality of 
 her home to her vagabond brother, she never could 
 meet him without reproving him, or lecturing him 
 upon his extravagant ways. The judge, in view of 
 this fact, was not a frequent visitor at his sister's 
 house, but being now burdened with a kind of white 
 elephant, in the form of a slave, for whom he had no 
 use, except to convert into money, he determined, 
 upon hearing of the runaway of the widow's Jim, 
 to present her with another trusty servant, providing 
 a few hundred dollars were paid in cash, a balance of 
 a few hundred more forthcoming when needed. 
 
 The Widow Dean entered the large and comfort- 
 able parlor, closely followed by her brother. She 
 seated herself before one of those old-fashioned fire- 
 places in which a bright fire was burning. The room 
 and the furniture were in keeping with the exterior 
 appearance of the house ; every piece of furniture 
 was arranged with the utmost care, the pictures, the 
 ornaments, everything about the room showed evi- 
 dence of the taste and refinement of its owner. There 
 was a striking contrast between the brother and sister 
 as they sat in their respective positions. The Widow 
 Dean was a very independent woman ; having teen 
 left almost penniless by her late husband, she grasped 
 the management of her affairs like a woman of mettle, 
 and out of a much encumbered estate, after clearing 
 off mortgages, she improved, repaired, and generally 
 increased the value of everything left her. It is true 
 
174 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 she had enjoyed a small income from the estate of 
 her father, but her brother, who had been executor, 
 being her senior by several years, had not taken the 
 pains or care to protect either his sister's or his own 
 interest, but yielding to his political ambition, he had 
 sacrificed that which was his own, as well as that 
 which he held in trust, to satiate a desire of which, 
 after experiencing, he soon grew weary. 
 
 The Widow Dean's countenance bore the traces of 
 beauty and refinement. Her early days had been 
 spent in luxury. Her beauty had brought to her 
 feet many admirers who worshipped her as a god- 
 dess. She was naturally haughty, but her quick and 
 intelligent mind saved her from being termed austere. 
 Unlike most Southern women, she had a heart over- 
 flowing with sympathy and kindness. She owned but 
 very few slaves, and these few were indulged to an 
 extent that made their lot not an unpleasant one. 
 She never allowed any of her servants to be whip- 
 ped, and when they were recalcitrant, she would call 
 them in to her, and gently reprimand them. She was 
 never known to sell or buy a servant. Jim, who so 
 unceremoniously left her for greater freedom, had 
 been left to her by her late husband, and she had 
 raised him almost from the cradle. This is why she 
 parted with him with such reluctance, and offered so 
 heavy a reward for his return. Had Jim been cap- 
 tured and returned to her, she would simply have 
 reprimanded him, and trusted him as implicitly as 
 she had formerly. 
 
THE JUDGE'S SISTER. 175 
 
 Her views upon the right of one human being to 
 own another possessed the peculiarly strange like- 
 ness to certain charitable Christains, "whose cloak 
 of charity stretches so far that it becomes rather thin." 
 She may not have believed that slavery was right 
 and just ; she may have thought it cruel and wicked 
 to treat humanity like dumb brutes, but then this 
 humanity was black, and the law of the land, as well 
 as precedent, decreed that white should rule and black 
 be ruled. So, with the same kindly feeling that a 
 good master has for his dog, did the Widow Dean 
 care for her servants. They were well fed, well 
 dressed, and generally well treated. When Jim left 
 her, she thought him very ungrateful, and felt cer- 
 tain that he would never be able to get along. She 
 gave but little thought as to his motive for leaving a 
 home so good and a mistress so kind, and attributed 
 his running away to the influence of evil companions. 
 When her brother came to her at this time, she had 
 not thought of adding to her household by the pur- 
 chase of another servant, for she was too much cha 
 grined at Jim's running away. The judge had often 
 prevailed upon her to increase the number of ser- 
 vants about the place, but she had persistently refused 
 to listen to, or heed, his advice, which seemed to her 
 to be followed at all times by misfortune. She had 
 never taken her brother's advice that it did not prove 
 abortive ; consequently, she had schooled herself so 
 in business that she managed her own affairs quite 
 ably. 
 
176 BOND AND FKEE. 
 
 The judge, as we have said, was not a frequent 
 visitor at his sister's house ; and his business here at 
 this time was to leave the man whom he had won from 
 his friend, and take his value in cash, this being far 
 more serviceable and less troublesome to him than 
 having a slave traveling around the country with 
 him. He always avoided a controversy with his sis- 
 ter when he could, for he disliked her to discourse 
 upon the evil of his ways, for which ways he con- 
 sidered himself alone responsible. He did not like 
 any interference with the manner in which he saw fit 
 to pass his life. He knew well the disposition of 
 his sister ; he knew her weaknesses and the bent of 
 her sympathy ; and he knew that, if he wanted to 
 win his object, he must play the penitent, whether in 
 earnest or not not that this would be anything new 
 for him to play. He had often resorted to the same 
 expedient, to obtain loan after loan and favor upon 
 favor from his sister. 
 
 Far be it from my intention, dear reader, to lead 
 you to the impression that Judge Jere Coleman was 
 a dependent upon his sister's bounty. He was too 
 proud a man for that; his noble and proud spirit 
 would not permit him to do anything so unmanly 
 and base. But it must be remembered that the judge 
 was a politician, and could view matters in a light 
 far different from other men. Favors bestowed were 
 often considered in the light of honors. While the 
 judge scorned the idea of being a dependent, he found 
 
THE JUDGE'S SISTER. 177 
 
 no inconsistency in accepting a bounty which was 
 only compensated for in promises. 
 
 They were now sitting facing one another, the 
 widow in a large, roomy chair, with her face shaded 
 from the sun, which penetrated the rich damask cur- 
 tains that adorned the window. The soft light fell 
 upon her well-modeled face, and brightened the silver 
 locks of hair, which hung in crisp curls from beneath 
 the rich, old lace cap she wore. The judge sat near 
 the fire-place, occupying the chair which his deceased 
 brother-in-law had always used, and which always 
 stood in that particular spot. He began the conver- 
 sation by saying : 
 
 " Matilda, it has been some time since I visited 
 you,, and I think you could afford to treat me with a 
 little more civility." He arose from his seat and 
 walked over to her. With an attempt at affection, 
 he placed his arms around her and continued : " Why, 
 my dear sister, I believe you would give your negro, 
 Jim, a more hearty welcome, should he enter the 
 door there, than you have me, your own dear 
 brother." 
 
 "Perhaps I would," said his sister, "considering 
 that Jim, being my slave instead of my brother, has 
 given me far less worriment than you have." 
 
 "Well," said the judge with a sigh, "I shall not 
 worry you any more. I have just one favor to ask; 
 if it be granted, when we part this time, it will, per- 
 haps, be forever. I am of the opinion that my con- 
 tinued absence will be pleasing to you. But to the 
 
178 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 point : I want to leave with you the man that I have. 
 He is a good servant, and useful at anything you 
 may see fit to put him." 
 
 " Where do you intend to go, Jere, and w,hy do 
 you suppose I shall be pleased at your departure? 
 Is not my door always open to you? Are you not 
 always welcome here yes, welcome to remain here 
 with your servant as long as you will ? Oh ! if you 
 would but stop this roving about from place to 
 place," and the tears began to steal down her cheeks. 
 
 "At it again," thought the judge, but he did not 
 lose patience ; he continued to speak kindly, " Ma- 
 tilda, I could not be so dependent upon you; I could 
 never permit myself to accept such kindness as you 
 offer, without making you some adequate return. 
 No; I should rather you would accept from your 
 brother the gift of this boy, as a slight return for the 
 many favors you have done me." 
 
 " I do not want the man ; I do not want any more 
 servants about the place, especially any strange ones. 
 He might put all sorts of mischief into the others 
 heads, and give me much trouble I do not care to 
 have. If you will remain and take the responsibility 
 of him yourself. I shall be ever so happy to have 
 you ; but, Jere, my dear brother, where did you get 
 this man ? " 
 
 Judge Coleman looked at his sister with an inquir- 
 ing glance. He had expected this question, yet he was 
 not prepared with an answer ; nor did he deem it either 
 prudent or advisable to tell her just where the man 
 
THE JUDGE'S SISTER. 179 
 
 came from, yet he knew that if he did not, there was 
 a possibility of the man's enlightening her himself. 
 " What does it matter, Sis (this appellation was used 
 by the judge when falling on familiar terms with his 
 sister), whence he came ? He is mine. I bought him, 
 and paid for him, and if you won't accept him, then 
 let me leave him with you until I make arrangements 
 elsewhere." 
 
 Mrs. Dean was determined not to have any strange 
 servants mingled with hers. She did not doubt that 
 her brother was truthful in his statements, but she 
 could not understand how he came in possession of 
 the means to spend upon such a luxury as a servant. 
 She knew that his small income did not admit of it, nor 
 did his former inclinations. She was puzzled to know 
 his real object in being so very desirous to leave the 
 man with her, so she remained obdurate ; and her un- 
 yielding disposition caused her brother to lose patience 
 and temper. 
 
 " Then you will not accept him as a gift, nor permit 
 him to remain here on the place unless I consent to 
 remain ? That I do not see fit to do, and to-morrow, 
 my dear, kind sister," said the judge sarcastically, " I 
 shall bid you farewell." 
 
 u As you will, Jere. You know you always did have 
 your own way," and Mrs. Dean arose from her seat, 
 and walked toward the window which opened into the 
 garden ; she stopped, and, turning, faced her brother, 
 who saw tears standing in her eyes. She exclaimed, 
 " Oh, Jere, why do you give me so much pain ! Why 
 
180 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 speak so heartlessly ! Hemain herewith me, but send 
 the man away. We don't need him, and we can live 
 so happy, and be so contented." 
 
 The judge's face lost much of its austerity at these 
 words, and a smile played around the corners of his 
 mouth. The suggestion of his sister was the very 
 thing why not remain with her ? He could sell Wil 
 liam, get twelve or fifteen hundred dollars for him, 
 and give himself up to ease and comfort under the 
 hospitality of his sister's roof. "As you insist upon 
 my remaining, I shall do so. I do this, Sis, because 
 of my love for you. You have been a kind, indul- 
 gent sister, and I appreciate your kindness. I will 
 send the man away the first opportunity I have, and 
 devote rny time to your happiness." 
 
 " Oh, thank you, thank you, Jere ! This makes me, 
 indeed, happy ; and now that you so cheerfully give 
 up your desire to rove about, I feel that you do love 
 me." 
 
 While this conversation was taking place in the 
 great house, William had put the horses away, and 
 had been shown to the servants' quarters. Being a 
 stranger upon the place, he soon had quite an audi- 
 ence about him, relating his recent separation from 
 his wife and child. Not a moment or a second since 
 the cruel separation had they escaped his thoughts. 
 Imagine that father's feelings, that husband's feelings ! 
 
 If we could suppose that those men and women of 
 bondage, when separated from those they so dearly 
 loved, became, in a short time, entirely indifferent to, 
 
THE JUDGE'S SISTER. 181 
 
 and forgetful of, those left behind, we could very 
 readily form the same conclusion that Jonathan Max- 
 well and his wife formed. But can this be supposed? 
 Is the human heart, whether within the bosom of a 
 bondman or a freeman, senseless to those pulsations 
 of nature, susceptible to love or hatred, misery or 
 happiness ? Has nature provided humanity with such 
 control over its forces that we can dismiss at will, 
 regardless of all our surroundings, the things upon 
 which our hopes, our very existence seems to depend ? 
 Can we, because of a forced change in circumstances 
 and surroundings, put aside and consign to oblivion 
 the cherished hopes of life? More likely is the 
 human heart to dwell, to linger, to cling with perti- 
 nacity and obstinacy to that which it is compelled to 
 relinquish. The more painful the separation, the 
 harder is it to forget. The very heart-strings of Wil- 
 liam had been torn asunder by this separation from 
 his wife and child. 
 
 We have spoken of his devotion to them, of the 
 pride he took in his only child; and when he fol- 
 lowed his new master, as he believed, into a deeper 
 and more relentless servitude, the bitterest and most 
 acute pains shot through his bosom. There was no 
 change, no treatment, however good, that could miti- 
 gate the cruelty of this separation ; and as he told 
 those around him, with tears streaming from his eyes, 
 of the beautiful wife and the loving child he had been 
 taken from, perhaps for ever, he was indeed an ob- 
 ject of commiseration. The motley group of hearers 
 
182 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 that surrounded him could do nothing but listen with 
 saddened hearts, and extend their sympathies. What 
 an excellent balm to heal the wounds of a bleeding 
 heart ! 
 
 William was assigned to duty about the house, 
 and he went at his work with a drooping head and 
 heavy heart. The Widow Dean was perfectly fa- 
 miliar with the habits of her servants, for she was an 
 unusually kind mistress, and made it an express 
 duty to inquire into the habits of those about her. 
 The judge had now been absent some time, attending 
 a hunt, and while she sat alone at the table, noticed 
 that William did not move about with that alacrity 
 she was accustomed to see in her servants. She said 
 to him one day: " William, you never seem to be in 
 a pleasant humor. Don't you like your new home ? " 
 
 William's breast began to heave with emotion ; he 
 choked down a sob, and answered : " Yes, missa ; I 
 am pleased with my new home, and you are very 
 kind." 
 
 " What, then, gives you so sad an appearance ? You 
 must brighten up and move about with more spirit." 
 
 "Yes, missa; I'll try," and as he said this, he 
 turned from the widow and brushed a tear from his 
 dark brown cheek. Mrs. Dean noticed this, and was 
 somewhat surprised. She had not intended to say 
 any more, but seeing the man's emotion, she ques- 
 tioned him further. William talked with much re- 
 luctance, as he was under the impression that Judge 
 Coleman had bought him expressly for his sister, and 
 
THE JUDGE'S SISTER. 183 
 
 judging all white people to be alike as far as their 
 servants were concerned, he was afraid of adding to 
 his distress by finding fault with his position. Be- 
 sides, he had no idea, when Mrs. Dean asked him 
 the questions she did, that it was done because of any 
 sympathy she may have had for him. Like many 
 other slaves, he did not believe that white people 
 ever sympathized with them in their woes, or, indeed, 
 thought they had any woes. In place, then, of being 
 candid and out-spoken with Mrs. Dean, he endeavored 
 to conceal the true cause of his trouble and evade 
 giving her the information she sought. 
 
 When in great distress and sorrow, the heart seeks 
 consolation in whatever way it is possible to be found. 
 It is truly a relief to pour out its inmost feelings to one 
 in whom confidence may be placed, and from whom 
 may be gained a word of comfort. William's heart 
 was overflowing with the bitterest of sorrow, and 
 could he have entertained the slightest hope of re- 
 ceiving a scintilla of sympathy from his mistress, he 
 would have, without hesitancy, told her all. He 
 would have entreated her to return him to his wife 
 and child yes, he would have appealed to her 
 womanly heart in behalf of those who were as dear 
 to him as his own life. He would have asked that 
 he might be permitted to see them once more, to en- 
 fold them in his arms and press them to his bosom. 
 But, alas ! he feared that any appeal to this woman 
 would be useless; he thought that Mrs. Dean was 
 now his mistress and owner, and he knew, or thought 
 
184 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 he knew, that to tell her he had been ruthlessly and 
 cruelly separated from his wife and child would but 
 tend to place him under close surveillance, thereby 
 preventing his intended escape. 
 
 In ninety cases out of a hundred, this would have 
 been the result had he dared to present such a pro- 
 position to his mistress or master ; but could William 
 have understood that the mistress to whom he now 
 owed obedience differed materially from the average 
 Southern woman, he would have made his appeal. 
 He would have thrown into it all of the eloquence 
 possible for him to summon ; he would have en- 
 deavored to touch some chord of sympathy, thus se- 
 curing a kind word or a promise. But no ; he re- 
 frained from giving expression to his thoughts, and 
 Mrs. Dean, who would have commanded her brother 
 to return the man to his master, was left to think that 
 William was taciturn and sullen, and, consequently, 
 not a fit one to be about her good-natured servants. 
 Immediately upon her brother's return, she approached 
 him concerning William, insisting that he should be 
 taken away from the place. 
 
 The judge had some reluctance about selling Wil- 
 liam to the traders, and yet he realized that some dis- 
 position must be made of him, profitable, of course, 
 to himself. Finding that his sister not only objected 
 to advancing him any money on the man, but posi- 
 tively insisted on his removal, he decided to sell him 
 to the first "nigger-trader" that came along. 
 
 This species of genus homo was very numerous, as 
 
THE JUDGE'S SISTER 185 
 
 a matter of course, throughout the South, negro- 
 trading being far more profitable than dealing in 
 horses and cattle. The two were, however, closely 
 allied in many cases, for a trader would often come 
 from the far South with a herd of cattle, and return 
 with a goodly supply of negroes, consisting of men, 
 women, and children. These traders were adepts at 
 the business, and knew just what kind of negroes the 
 market required. They attended all the slave-mar- 
 kets and private sales, and bought wherever they 
 could get a bargain, realizing on their investments 
 just as a man does in any ordinary business transac- 
 tion. In addition to their business of buying and 
 selling these slaves, they indulged in stealing and 
 kidnapping free negroes. This was a little risky, but 
 very remunerative, and, consequently, popular. The 
 negro-trader was not looked upon as the best type of 
 a citizen ; he was not quite so highly regarded as a 
 wealthy planter, who owned several hundred slaves, 
 and who bought, traded, or sold at will. He was 
 viewed rather with suspicion and mistrust, and 
 thought capable of doing many things that a respect- 
 able man would scorn. Usually, he commanded 
 large sums of money, had a great fondness for 
 whisky, tobacco, and poker. He could be seen upon 
 steamboats, at hotels, around jails, and at slave-pens, 
 being easily distinguished from other men by his 
 broad-rimmed hat, soiled shirt, scrubby beard, swag- 
 gering gait, and the bull-whip invariably under his 
 arm. His keen eye took in at a glance every defect 
 
186 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 about the man or the woman he wished to purchase. 
 In order to test the abilities and qualities of an in- 
 tended purchase, a male was compelled to bend his 
 body,' jump, show his teeth, and bring his muscles 
 generally into play. A female was subjected to much 
 the same, undergoing many cruel indignities, utterly 
 regardless of her sex. 
 
 Being a class apparently created without a grain of 
 human feeling, they (the traders) would take a 
 mother from her babe, a husband from a wife, or 
 vice versa. Tears never appealed to their sympathies, 
 for they were devoid of any. All appeals were an- 
 swered by the crack of the whip. They would go 
 through the country and purchase as many slaves as 
 their funds would permit, and after depositing them 
 safely in jail, would collect them and start them in 
 droves for the far South, where good prices were 
 given by the owners of large rice and cotton planta- 
 tions for good, able-bodied men and women. While 
 making these long excursions, women and children 
 were placed in wagons and the men were shackled 
 together and driven from sunrise to sunset. From 
 three to four white men generally drove herds of a 
 hundred or more, and, at night, when they encamped, 
 one or two watched while the others slept. These 
 poor creatures, over whom they watched, were as 
 completely cowed by the' presence of one or two 
 men as they would have been by an army. They 
 might have rebelled, it is true, but such an uprising 
 would have amounted comparatively to nothing : for 
 
THE JUDGE'S SISTER. 187 
 
 there was the strong arm of the law, a sure and ready 
 protection for all whites and a constant menace to 
 these abused people, making them powerless, no 
 matter what their number, to ameliorate their forlorn 
 condition. 
 
 A better representative of the Southern " nigger- 
 trader " than Jasson Lillie could not be found. He 
 made periodical visits through the section of country 
 in which the Widow Dean resided. He had grown 
 up from youth in the business, and as he entered in- 
 to manhood, had divested himself of conscience, 
 honor, and respectability ; so Jass Lillie was minus 
 none of the qualities or knowledge requisite for a 
 most successful "nigger- trader." He had probably 
 reached his fortieth year, but looked much older, his 
 hair being grizzly. His low forehead, broad mouth, 
 and bull-like neck bespoke the man. He could 
 round off an oath and deal cards with an avidity that 
 gave him an enviable reputation among his compan- 
 ions, while his judgment as to the value, soundness, 
 and salable qualities of a negro was unerring. He 
 never took any risks when once he put his money in 
 a man or woman, and from the time he bought until 
 he sold, security and vigilance were his watch words. 
 Merciless and brutal in the extreme, he thought no 
 more of throwing his big bull-whip upon the back 
 of a negro man or woman, than upon the back of a 
 steer. 
 
 When he made his periodical trip, he spent but 
 little time on a bargain, for time was money to Mr. 
 
188 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 Lillie. He was sure at all times to get the best of a 
 bargain. Jass Lillie's time for passing through certain 
 sections of the country was as well known to the slaves 
 as to the masters, and every slave in that particular 
 vicinity would grow restless and frightened when the 
 time approached for his appearance. Many of them 
 would conceal themselves, fearing that Lillie would 
 see them and offer to purchase them from their 
 masters. To the slaves he was a dreaded and unwel- 
 come visitor ; while to many of the masters he was 
 ever welcome. It had been some six months since 
 Jass Lillie had visited the section of country where 
 the Widow Dean lived, and it had been more than 
 that many years since he had stopped within her 
 domains, at which time he was given to understand 
 by the Widow Dean that there was no opening for 
 his business upon her premises. Mr. Lillie rounded 
 off a few selected oaths at the time lost, and never 
 lost any more by stopping there. 
 
 He was now daily expected, and the only slaves 
 for miles that were not disturbed by this piece of in- 
 telligence were the Widow Dean's. Her brother 
 shared in the general expectation proceeding Lillie's 
 arrival ; for he had decided to dispose of William, 
 and Jass Lillie was the man to whom he would sell 
 him. The judge and Jass were not strangers to each 
 other, as they had met before on similar business the 
 former having disposed of much of his own property 
 to this speculator in human beings, and he knew just 
 how to drive a bargain with him. 
 
THE JUDGE'S SISTER. 189 
 
 The sun crept up from over the eastern hills, and 
 bathed the rich verdure in its softest rays. The dew 
 upon the grass and the flowers seemed to sparkle and 
 laugh with joy as it was kissed with the golden flood 
 of light. The hyacinths and pinks looked particu- 
 larly bright this morning, as they hung in profusion 
 about the Widow Dean's manor-house. The ivy and 
 creeping smilax glistened in the sunshine, creep- 
 ing up and entwining themselves in and out of the 
 crevices of the old stone walls. It was one of those 
 beautiful spring mornings when all nature seemed 
 happy, bright, and smiling. The water in the little 
 brooklet dashed along as though keeping time to the 
 music of the birds that flitted from tree to tree with 
 their merry chirping ; and it moved on in its course, 
 only intercepted by some huge, moss-covered rock, 
 which would break it into a thousand little sparkling 
 jets, glistening and shining in the sunlight like bright 
 crystal gems. The horn of the overseer, as he sum- 
 moned the field-hands to work, sounded upon the 
 still, clear air, then died away and lost itself in the 
 thick foliage of the mountain. Every living thing 
 seemed to catch new life and inspiration from the 
 sweet morning air. The old slave, turning out from 
 his quarters, walked with unusual suppleness and agil- 
 ity, while the little pickaninnies, with nappy hair and 
 rolling eyes, sprang out from the little whitewashed 
 cabins and gamboled about in the dewy grass in lieu 
 of a bath. 
 
 Judge Coleman arose long before his accustomed 
 
190 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 hour, stalked oat into the stable, and ordered a horse 
 saddled. The order being obeyed, he mounted his 
 spirited animal and wound his way through the long 
 line of stately poplars, whose boughs and leaves bent 
 and bowed to the gentle breeze, as if in salute to the 
 
 early rider. He rode directly to the town of E , 
 
 stopped his horse in front of the inn, and inquired if 
 Jass Lillie had arrived. He was informed that that 
 individual was a guest at the hostelrie, and if the 
 gentleman would dismount, his horse would be at- 
 tended to and Mr. Lillie informed of his presence. 
 So important a Southern gentleman as Judge Cole- 
 man was, of course, widely known, and as Mr. Kurtz- 
 man, the landlord of the Black Horse tavern, made 
 the remark, he hailed a negro servant girl, address- 
 ing her by the euphonious cognomen of Alanthe. 
 
 " Tell the gentleman in the room, first floor front, 
 that Judge Coleman, ex-member of Congress, wishes 
 to see him.'' 
 
 The servant girl, who might have been taken for 
 a boy from the scarcity of hair on her head, and the 
 coat-like garment she wore reaching down to her 
 knees, exposing- a pair of very black and very thin 
 legs, very large feet whose toes stood apart with per- 
 fect individuality, disappeared from the bar-room and 
 office, and in an incredibly short time, returned, say- 
 ing: 
 
 " Glass bitters. Gemmen says gemmen come up." 
 
 The glass of bitters was ordered by Mr. Lillie, who 
 had not yet arisen, as an eye-opener. The order was 
 
THE JUDGE'S SISTER. 191 
 
 filled, and the judge directed to follow Alan the. 
 Leading the way, the servant entered the room and 
 deposited the liquor on a small stand, which an- 
 swered the dual purpose of washstand and center-ta- 
 ble, and immediately disappeared, closing the door 
 with a bang. 
 
 *' Well-er, well-er, how are yer, Coleman?" said 
 
 Mr. Lillie, as he raised himself up in bed ; " d that 
 
 nigger! why didn't she give me that drink? " 
 
 "How are you, Jass?" said the judge, paying no 
 attention to the latter remark. u I didn't know you 
 received gentlemen before you made your toilet. 1 ' 
 
 " Well-er, saves time, Coleman, yer know ; talk 
 while dressin'; done dressing know yer business, 
 ready to bargain. Have a drink ? ' ; and as he said 
 this, he sprang out of bed, took the glass from the 
 table, and drained it of its contents at one gulp. He 
 then proceeded to perform his toilet, which did not 
 take long, as his coat and boots were about the only 
 articles he had divested himself of. 
 
 Mr. Lillie, as we have said, was great on saving 
 time. He saved time on everything. He was eco- 
 nomical even in the use of words, endeavoring to ex- 
 press himself in as few words as possible, which he 
 cut to suit his style. This is why his sentences were 
 so jerky. Judge Coleman watched the man as he 
 performed the lightning task of arranging his toilet. 
 
 ' Well-er, what's up, Coleman? Hain't seen you 
 long time. Any niggers, men, women, old, young ? 
 Want good stock, er no sale. How's wider? Clever 
 
192 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 lady, give me devil once. Never stop now. No use, 
 only time lost." Lillie continued to jerk out his 
 sentences in this way until his toilet was finished. 
 Starting toward the door, he said to the judge : " Been 
 to breakfast? Late this morning; join me." The 
 judge thanked him, but declined the invitation, re- 
 marking that he would accompany him to the break- 
 fast table, which he did. 
 
 Lillie, to save time, had ordered his breakfast, which 
 was set before him in a very short time after he was 
 seated at the table. Judge Coleman seated himself 
 at his side, and while Lillie shoveled the food into 
 his mouth, employing both hands and knife and fork, 
 the judge informed him that he had a negro man he 
 wanted to sell, and asked Lillie whether he wanted 
 to buy him. 
 
 With his mouth full of food, Lillie replied : " Buy 
 him, buy him, course. Sound? Healthy? Under 
 forty? Ten hundred, sight unseen. Any defects, no 
 sale." 
 
 " But ten hundred ain't enough, Lillie ; I paid fif- 
 teen for him." 
 
 " Can't help it. Market slow, demand poor, ex- 
 pense clear to Georgia. Bring him up, may do bet- 
 ter. Be back in ten days. Nigger, git my horse." 
 
 The last remark was addressed to the servant of 
 all work, Alanthe, who was now lazily engaged, with 
 a large paper brush, in keeping the flies off the table. 
 
 "Yes, sah!" was the reply, as she bounded from 
 
THE JUDGE'S SISTER. 193 
 
 the room, turning a somersault through the window, 
 and landing on the portico. 
 
 "All right," said the judge, "I shall arrange so as 
 to meet you here. Good day !" 
 
 " Good day ! good day !" said Mr. Lillie "More'n 
 one, bring 'long. Any good-looking gals? Pay good 
 price. ,Want take down good drove. Business dull, 
 must push it. Market slow, demand poor." 
 
 They separated at the tavern door. The judge 
 mounted his horse and rode home. In a short time, 
 Lillie mounted his horse and rode in direction of 
 
 the B market, where a large drove of cattle, in 
 
 charge of two drivers, had preceded him. Here he 
 intended to make his first purchase of negroes prepara- 
 tory to his return trip. 
 
 Judge Coleman reached home in time for the morn- 
 ing meal, with his appetite well sharpened by his 
 early morning ride. The meal was eaten in silence, 
 as the judge said nothing to his sister about his ad- 
 venture. 
 
 William McCullar was one of a great number of 
 slaves that was very religious. He had been per- 
 sistently praying for his wife and child's protection, 
 little thinking that they were, even at that moment, 
 fleeing to freedom. He had been taught to place his 
 trust in Providence, and a way would be shown him 
 out of his suffering condition. This was the only 
 hope that buoyed him up ; he clung to it as a dying 
 man to a straw. Everything around him seemed 
 dark and foreboding. Liberty seemed to be farther 
 
 13 
 
194 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 and farther away from his reach. The hope of again 
 seeing his beloved wife was not lost entirely, but r it 
 appeared like a delusion, though he still prayed, 
 trusted, and believed a way would open up to him 
 that would lead him out of bondage. His religious 
 zeal made him too reliant. He waited upon some 
 manifestation of the power of Providence, and be- 
 came entirely passive as to what was required of 
 him. He lost sight of that great truth, "God helps 
 those who help themselves,'' and continued to wait 
 for an evidence of Godly help. He was courageous 
 and manly, and never abandoned his intention to es- 
 cape, but his lack of resolution and confidence in 
 himself proved a fatal blunder, and resulted in his 
 being taken still farther from a free land. He had 
 no knowledge, or, in fact, did he think for a moment, 
 that the wife he loved so dearly was bravely strug- 
 gling on toward freedom. Had William McCullar 
 been in possession of this information, he would have 
 risked his life to reach her; the fetters of slavery 
 would have been burst asunder, and he would have 
 made a desperate effort for freedom. As it was, be- 
 ing entirely in ignorance of their escape, and partly 
 in doubt of the advisability of attempting to escape, 
 himself, he hesitated too long, and, as I have said, 
 was borne farther away from wife and child and lib- 
 erty. 
 
 William had finished serving the breakfast for his 
 new mistress and master, and had seated himself 
 at a table in the kitchen to eat his own. The break- 
 
THE JUDGE'S SISTER. 195 
 
 fast before him remained untouched, his mind being 
 engrossed with other things, and his gaze seemingly 
 riveted upon the beautiful landscape, as viewed from 
 the window before which he sat The cattle on the 
 hills were lazily browsing away, the perfume of the 
 rich scented clover was driven by a gentle breeze 
 through the open window, and spread itself through 
 the house like fragrant incense. 
 
 William sat there motionless, with his eyes fixed 
 upon nothing but the great space that intervened be- 
 tween the cloudless skies and the green carpeted earth. 
 His mind was with his wife and child, and all the 
 beauty of nature, as it lay stretched out before him, 
 was as nothing. He did not hear the heavy tread of 
 Judge Coleman, as he entered the kitchen, nor did he 
 hear himself addressed until the judge laid his hand 
 upon his shoulder, and said : 
 
 u William, when you have finished your breakfast, 
 I want you to go with Uncle Dick to the Black Horse 
 tavern, and meet me there," 
 
 " Yes sar ; I'm ready now," said William, rising 
 from the table. 
 
 Uncle Dick had already received his orders, and 
 had the carriage in waiting, as well as the judge's 
 horse. The master mounted and set out for the 
 tavern, and was soon followed by Uncle Dick and 
 William. 
 
 Uncle Dick was one of the oldest servants upon 
 the Dean estate, and by virtue of his fidelity to his 
 mistress's interest, he was installed the overseer or 
 
196 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 driver. There were not many negroes upon the place, 
 as we have said, and the few who were there were, 
 as far as their mistress was concerned, well treated, 
 and it was a most fortunate thing for them, with such 
 a driver as Uncle Dick, that they had so kind a mis- 
 tress. The average Southern overseer was specially 
 and carefully selected for his cruelty and brutality. 
 He required the reputation of a hard driver as a re- 
 commendation to entitle him to employment by a 
 large planter ; he had to have combined the instincts 
 of a blood hound and a perfect knowledge of " nig- 
 gers " ; it was necessary for him to know how to ob- 
 tain plenty of work from half -fed mortals, and to 
 look upon a slave, not as a human creature, but as a 
 thing to be driven by the crack of the whip, and 
 worked until quite exhausted. 
 
 They were selected from among the poorest of 
 poor whites ; and the exalted position of overseer and 
 their hatred and prejudice of a black man, made them 
 fit subjects for such positions. An exception was 
 made by some slave-holders, who were far-sighted, 
 by selecting from among their negroes an overseer. 
 Wherever this was the case, the slaves were made 
 to suffer, if possible, greater persecution than under 
 a white man. The authority given them over their 
 brethren, and their great anxiety to retain it by pleas- 
 ing their masters, led them to extremes in their treat- 
 ment. They had better opportunities to know the 
 habits of those under them ; they knew whenever a 
 man or woman was off on a frolic, and if one lagged 
 
THE JUDGE'S SISTER. 197 
 
 behind while working in the field next day, no mercy 
 was shown, nor was the lash spared. White men were 
 hard drivers and cruel overseers, but black men ex- 
 ceeded them, besides being very deceptive and treach- 
 erous. They would pry into the secrets of the poor 
 slaves, and then expose them to their masters. 
 
 Uncle Dick was one of this class, but could not ex- 
 ercise his punishing powers, as the Widow Dean drew 
 the line at this point. But lie made his fellow-slaves 
 suffer every hardship he could inflict, and took great 
 pleasure in watching them and conveying news to his 
 mistress. He had been instructed to conduct Wil- 
 liam safely to the Black Horse, and not inform him of 
 the object. The commission could not have been dele- 
 gated to one more faithful. He drove the horses and 
 kept a close ej-e on William, while a broad smile 
 occasionally overspread his face. He knew the ob- 
 ject of taking William to the tavern, as the time for 
 Jass Lillie's return had arrived. 
 
 When the tavern was reached, several men, women, 
 and children were seen in various attitudes of ease, 
 within a kind of inclosure similar to a cattle stockade, 
 while two men of rather unprepossessing appearance 
 performed guard duty over them. 
 
 On the front porch of the tavern, Lillie stood with 
 his hands hid away in the pockets of his trousers, roll- 
 ing a large quid of tobacco from one side of his some- 
 what capacious mouth to the other, watching William 
 as he sprang lightly from the carriage. Upon alight- 
 ing, William walked up to his master who was stand- 
 
198 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 ing by Lillie's side, politely touched his hat, and 
 awaited orders. 
 
 " Well-er, that's the nigger?" said Lillie, nodding 
 his head toward William. 
 
 " That's he," replied the judge, " and a better one 
 never broke bread." This was said in a very low 
 voice, as if not intended for William's ears. 
 
 "Boy, boy, come here. Open yer mouth," said 
 Lillie. ' 
 
 William obeyed, and Lillie poked his dirty fingers 
 into the man's mouth, feeling his upper and lower 
 jaw teeth. " Bend over. Touch the ground. Jump," 
 and as he said this, he dexterously swung his bull- 
 whip over his head, and made it crack like a pistol 
 shot 
 
 William sprang some two feet into the air, and 
 came down lightly upon his toes. Lillie walked to 
 him, roughly felt his limbs, and watched the develop- 
 ment of his muscles as he worked them. Then turn- 
 ing to the judge said : 
 
 "Twelve hundred. Aint worth d - cent more." 
 
 " No, sir," said the judge ; "fifteen, or home he goes." 
 
 "Fifteen!" said Lillie, eyeing the judge closely, 
 " Can't stand it ; great risk ; market slow ; demand 
 poor; expense great; no time to dicker; thirteen 
 and half no more. Mitchell, git them ar niggers 
 ready. Move on." The last remark was addressed 
 to one.of the drivers, who at once proceeded to arouse 
 the group of slaves by kicking and thumping them, 
 and afterwards telling them to get up. 
 
THE JUDGE'S SISTER. 199 
 
 " He is yours," said the judge, turning and enter- 
 ing the tavern. Lillie called up one of his men, and 
 said : " Put that ar nigger in the drove ; buckle him 
 good; don't take any foolishness off him." He then 
 followed Judge Coleman into the tavern, counted out 
 thirteen hundred and fifty dollars, handed it to the 
 judge, taking a receipt something like the following : 
 
 E , May , 18. 
 
 JASSON LILLIE TO JUDGE J. COLEMAN, Dr. 
 
 To one negro man, called William, five feet two inches ; dark- 
 brown color ; good features ; compactly built. Sound health 
 guaranteed. 
 $1,350 Received Payment, 
 
 J. COLEMAN. 
 
 Lillie spelled the receipt over, placed it in his wal- 
 let, and said : 
 
 " Any more like him, Colerman, bring 'em along. 
 Market slow ; demand poor; but buy anyhow." 
 
 The drivers now busied themselves in getting the 
 women and children into the wagons and hand-cuff- 
 ing the men together in pairs, running a chain along 
 between them. William was hand-cuffed to a burly, 
 black fellow. The front part of the chain was at- 
 tached to the wagon, the drivers mounted their horses, 
 the whips cracked, and the cavalcade started south- 
 ward. William McCullar's heart throbbed with pain 
 as he now realized that each step bore him farther 
 from his wife and child and liberty. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 A MOTHER'S SACRIFICE. 
 
 It was well into the night when Uncle Joshua drove 
 away from the Maxwell estate with Purcey and Sallie 
 Silvers in Mr. Biggers' wagon. After watching them 
 until the darkness hid them from view, the mother re- 
 turned to the house. Elva had no superstitious fears, 
 notwithstanding her great confidence in the power to 
 which she invariably appealed for assistance. Her 
 belief that Providence had selected her to aid in the 
 escape of her fellow-creatures from bondage to free- 
 dom was as honest as any belief ever entertained in 
 human bosom. This idea was strengthened from the 
 fact that none whom she had assisted to escape had 
 ever been captured or returned. Now that her own 
 child had gone she whom she loved with the tender- 
 est affection of a mother she felt that no sacrifice, 
 however great, would be too much to make for her 
 protection. She was now to act a part which must, 
 eventually, end in detection ; and would, in all proba- 
 bility, lead to a terrible punishment she alone to be 
 the sufferer. Her mistress and master must be kept 
 in ignorance of Purcey 's departure for several days, 
 or, at least, until she had a fair opportunity to escape 
 into a free land. Everything now rested with her ; 
 she summoned all of her determination and courage 
 
 [200] 
 
A MOTHER'S SACRIFICE. 201 
 
 and put in operation her full powers of deception. 
 Usually thoughtful and collected, in her changed 
 manner she seemed somewhat inclined to impulsive- 
 ness. 
 
 Entering the house, she carefully fastened the door, 
 and crept softly through the rooms and halls, until 
 the door of her master's room was reached. Every- 
 thing was clothed in inky darkness ; not a sound dis- 
 turbed the death -like stillness, except the regular 
 breathing of the sleepers within their rooms. 
 
 Through all of that great house, from kitchen to 
 the bed-room of her master, situated in the extreme 
 east wing of the house, she had crept, without com- 
 ing in contact with a single piece of furniture or mak- 
 ing a misstep. She listened at the door for a moment, 
 her breath coming thick and fast. Within her bosom 
 a fearful conflict was passing. She placed her hand 
 upon the door-knob, and withdrew it suddenly, as if 
 something had stung her ; she thrust her hand into 
 her bosom and drew forth a leather sheath, and 
 drawing out the shining blade of a knife, she again 
 approached the door, but hesitated Should she en- 
 ter? Could she not, with one stroke of that weapon, 
 rid herself of the man that held her and her children 
 in bondage ? Yet this would not release the fetters 
 from their limbs. But then Purcey would be safe, 
 and what would it then matter though the law hold 
 her? 
 
 She did not fear death, she did not fear the cruelest 
 punishment. If she plunged that dagger to the hilt 
 
202 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 into her master's bosom, he would only sleep on, never 
 to awake, never to be called master again. Then she 
 thought: "Oh! what wickedness this, to send that 
 soul to judgment unprepared, so unfit. What would 
 be her final punishment beyond this vale of tears ? 
 No ; this must not be ! Sleep on, Jonathan Maxwell, 
 for ' vengeance is mine/ saith the Lord !" The dark 
 and wicked thoughts which had entered her heart 
 vanished, and light and better judgment prevailed. 
 Her limbs now began to quiver as she turned from 
 the door ; she felt a weakness come over her. Her 
 eyes, having become accustomed to the darkness 
 about, now grew dim, her head grew dizzy, she tot- 
 tered as she attempted to make her way back to her 
 room, and as she reached the broad staircase which 
 led to the large open hallway below, she reeled and 
 fell. How long she lay there she did not know, but 
 she was awakened by a cry coming from the nursery. 
 Raising herself with a terrible effort, half dazed, and 
 suffering from weakness caused by the recent excite- 
 ment, she slowly, and with faltering step, groped her 
 way back along the passage to the nursery door. 
 Opening it she entered. 
 
 This was Master Archie's domain, who, being ac- 
 customed to have some one in the room with him, 
 and upon awakening, not seeing Emeline, his present 
 nurse, on the pallet she usually occupied, cried out. 
 Elva went to the child ; and at sight of her, he shrunk 
 back upon the bed apparently much frightened, cover- 
 ing his head with the coverlets. For her he had al- 
 
A MOTHER'S SACRIFICE. 203 
 
 ways entertained a fear. He had good reasons at 
 that time to be frightened. 
 
 While Elva was greatly changed in mind, she was 
 even more so in appearance, due to the excitement of 
 the last hour or so. Her hair now hung in a dishev- 
 eled mass about her shoulders ; her face was pale 
 and haggard, while her eyes wore a wild and restless 
 expression. Her lips were thin and bloodless, and a 
 nervous twitching appeared about the corners of her 
 mouth. The child did not know whether this was an 
 apparition or not, so unseasonable was the hour for 
 Elva to be there. 
 
 She hurriedly and noiselessly left the room, went 
 down to the kitchen, crossed the yard, and entered 
 one of the many cabins. Approaching a heap of 
 straw huddled in one corner of the room, she gently 
 shook the sleeping form of a girl, and bending her 
 head close to the girl's ear she whispered, in sepul- 
 chral tones: "Em, Em, get up." The girl, upon 
 recognizing the voice, arose hastily, donned the one 
 garment that composed her wearing apparel, and, 
 obeying a sign from Elva, followed her into the yard. 
 She instructed Emeline to go to the nursery and re- 
 main. Em had stolen away from the nursery to en- 
 joy a night's rest, free from Master Archie's annoy- 
 ance. She reluctantly obeyed her mother, who now 
 returned to her own room, threw herself upon the 
 bed, and tried to find solace in sleep. But no sleep 
 came to her eyes. She tossed uneasily upon the bed 
 for several hours, until the morning came and the 
 
204 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 hour arrived for the commencement of her daily la- 
 bors. She arose, by no means refreshed by the 
 night's experience, and went mechanically about her 
 work, with her mind divided between thoughts of her 
 fleeing daughter and her own anticipated predica- 
 ment, resulting from eventual discovery of the escape. 
 In this condition, she performed her labors, hardly 
 knowing what she was doing, and before she had 
 fully made up her mind what to say or do, in case 
 Mrs. Maxwell insisted upon Purcey's return to work, 
 Emeline entered the kitchen and informed her that 
 she was wanted in the library, 
 
 The library of the Maxwell house was one of those 
 cosy apartments fitted in all of its appointments to 
 answer as an office and sitting-room. In this apart- 
 ment, Jonathan transacted all of his business. It 
 contained a secretary, a large walnut desk, three or 
 four comfortable arm-chairs, and a number of family 
 souvenirs. A choice collection of plants occupied 
 considerable space in an alcove, and this gave a cheer- 
 ful appearance to the room. A sweet odor pervaded 
 the room, emitted by the heliotropes which were 
 half hidden by the long, rich, lace curtains that 
 stretched their snowy folds from the high ceiling to 
 the floor. It was here that Mrs. Maxwell passed 
 many hours of her rather indolent life in reading 
 novels and annoying her husband with petty com- 
 plaints upon the cares of life. They were seated in 
 this cosy little library for some time, Jonathan por- 
 ing over some book accounts, and Mrs. Maxwell 
 
A MOTHER'S SACRIFICE. 205 
 
 reading for awhile, then sleeping, and at times com- 
 plaining. The question of Purcey's continued ab- 
 sence from her duties became the subject of Mrs. 
 Maxwell's complaints. 
 
 During Purcey's illness, it had been the custom of 
 Jonathan Maxwell and his wife to make inquiries 
 daily regarding her health. These inquiries were 
 made invariably of Elva, who permitted no one but 
 herself to enter the sick room or answer these inqui- 
 ries. This precaution had been adopted by her in 
 order to assume all responsibility of the escape, and 
 to allow as much time as possible to elapse before 
 Purcey's escape could be discovered. 
 
 The irrepressible Elo had been very inquisitive, 
 and her mother found great difficulty in keeping her 
 from Purcey's room. Had the room been located in 
 any other part of the house, it would undoubtedly 
 have been invaded by Elo ; but it was directly over 
 the kitchen, being reached by a flight of stairs from 
 the kitchen only. The approach was, consequently, 
 ever under watch of the mother, who had to cajole Elo 
 in every imaginable manner. Never had the child 
 eaten so many good things in her life, as in the brief 
 time pending the discovery of Purcey's escape. She 
 came bounding into the house one day when Elva 
 was absent from the kitchen. She looked around, 
 and not seeing any one, stole softly to the steps. Lis- 
 tening, she could hear nothing. Then creeping softly 
 up the steps, she reached the door of the room where 
 Purcey had been sick, and peered through the key- 
 
206 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 hole, but could see nothing. She gently turned the 
 knob of the door, but being locked, she could not gain 
 an entrance. For some moments, she stood deliber- 
 ating what to do next, and finally determined to see 
 Purcey, if in the room. Placing her ear close to the 
 key-hole, and not hearing any sound, she next ap- 
 plied her mouth and called. 
 
 "Honey, honey, is you 'sleep? 1 ' Not receiving 
 any response, she repeated the words again, but with 
 no better result. She remarked : " Dat's funny ; won- 
 der whar she is. I'll ask mamma/' She crept down 
 the steps again, and just as she had reached the bot- 
 tom of the steps, Elva entered the kitchen from the 
 dining-room. She glared fiercely at the child for a 
 moment, then advancing toward her, seized her arm 
 with a vise-like grip, and shook her until her teeth 
 rattled, and the child cried out from pain. Her eyes 
 were still fixed in a wild stare upon the child, and 
 she fairly shrieked: "What you doin' up there? 
 Didn't I tell you to keep down from dat room ? " 
 
 " Oh, mamma ! " screamed the child. " I only want 
 to see honey ; I ain't goin' up dar no more." 
 
 " Come here," she said, and she dragged the fright- 
 ened child across the room. " Listen ; if you ever 
 go up dem steps again, I'll be de death of you. Do 
 you hear? " and she shook her again. 
 
 "Yes, mamma; I won't go dar agin, only let me 
 
 go." 
 
 Leading her to the door, Elva said to her : "If you 
 love your sister, if you love me, stay out of de house, 
 
A MOTHER'S SACRIFICE. 207 
 
 unless I send for you. Now go," and she pushed 
 her out of the door. * 
 
 Elo looked at her black arm, where the prints of 
 her mother's fingers still remained, and, rubbing that 
 member, she exclaimed : 
 
 u Golly ! didn't mamma look wild, and didn't she 
 hurt dis darkey's arm ! " 
 
 The ordeal now came at last. Emeline had sum- 
 moned Elva to her mistress, and she fully realized 
 that she must now face the inevitable. The leniency 
 of her mistress, of late, surprised her. For several 
 days Mrs. Maxwell had, contrary to her custom, sub- 
 mitted to many inconveniences on account of the 
 alleged illness of one of her servants. Had she made 
 a peremptory demand for Purcey's presence, she 
 would have been less surprised, though disheartened ; 
 for then Purcey would not have had the long start 
 she now enjoyed. 
 
 Mrs. Maxwell was reclining in an easy chair, her 
 feet resting upon a velvet-covered divan. A book 
 lay in her lap, the pages of which she had been care- 
 lessly perusing. A rich robe of pink silk hung in 
 graceful folds about her, and a simple knot of white 
 lace encircled her beautiful throat. She was a hand- 
 some woman, and, as she sat in her morning-gown, 
 free from all adornments, displaying only that beauty 
 which nature had so lavishly bestowed upon her, her 
 husband could not help but yield to her every re- 
 quest. Her long, rich, brown hair hung in profusion 
 about her shoulders, her skin was as delicate and 
 
208 BOXD AND FREE. 
 
 transparent as pearl, her lips were of a rosy hue, dis- 
 'closing teeth as white as snow. She looked more 
 like a goddess of love and beauty than the unfeeling 
 woman that she was. Jonathan had for some time 
 been endeavoring to straighten some accounts, but, 
 owing to the frequent interruptions of his wife, had 
 not completed his task. Mrs. Maxwell tapped her 
 shapely foot upon the divan upon which it rested. 
 Inclining her head lazily to one side, she said, with a 
 half petulant air : 
 
 ''Jonathan, I do wish you would put up those 
 books. I have been talking to you all this time, and 
 you have not paid me any attention whatever." 
 
 He ceased writing, pushed his chair back from the 
 desk, and looked admiringly at his wife. 
 
 "Now, pet," said he, coaxingly, "don't say that. I 
 have heard every word you uttered, in fact, I have 
 written some of them in the ledger." 
 
 "It's nothing but books and accounts," she con- 
 tinued, " whenever I want to talk with you. I wish 
 all the books and all the accounts were at the bottom 
 of the sea." 
 
 Mrs. Maxwell, being naturally indolent and ac- 
 customed to being petted, was like the average 
 Southern lady. She did not know what it was 
 to help herself. A servant was always at her com- 
 mand, and work of any sort was absolutely abhorred 
 by her. She had been greatly worried, since Purcey's 
 illness, by the other servants, who were either too stu- 
 pid to understand her ways, or too impudent for her ; 
 
A MOTHER'S SACRIFICE. 209 
 
 then, Jonathan had not shown any disposition to re- 
 gard her appeals to have Purcey sent back to her 
 post. But she was a determined woman ; and when 
 she entered the library in search of her husband, it 
 was with the settled purpose to carry her point, and 
 that point was to demand, without further delay, Pur- 
 cey's presence. Jonathan had never been able to 
 resist the blandishments of his wife, and she knew it, 
 and the reason that he had not yielded to her request 
 and demanded Elva to send Purcey to her, was not 
 that he regarded her illness as anything serious, or, 
 in fact, that he had any regard for her illness at all, but 
 he wanted to be relieved of her presence about any 
 part of the house where he would see her. . 
 
 It must not be presumed that Jonathan had any 
 trouble with his conscience as having been the cause 
 of the woman's illness, or had he any doubt about 
 her being ill. He did, perhaps, think she was stretch- 
 ing it out rather far to remain away from her duties 
 so long, but, as he had no desire to come in contact 
 with her, he was rather inclined to indulge her. The 
 value of this indulgence to Purcey can readily be 
 seen. 
 
 Mrs. Maxwell, having made up her mind that she 
 would no longer suffer inconvenience, came at once 
 to the point as soon as Jonathan turned his attention 
 to her, after closing his book. 
 
 Jonathan said: " I am afraid, were your wish carried 
 out, that the world would find it a difficult matter to 
 get along without books or accounts. But I am at 
 
 14 
 
210 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 your service now, and await patiently your com- 
 mands." 
 
 Mrs. Maxwell changed her position, so as to bring 
 herself directly facing her husband. "Jonathan, 
 dear," she began, " I cannot get along without Pur- 
 cey. I have so much trouble and worry with these 
 other stupid servants, and Archie, dear little fellow, 
 is constantly complaining. Em left him the other 
 night, and the child says something came into the 
 room and frightened him nearly to death. Of course, 
 that was only imagination, but to think of the an- 
 noyance by having to listen to the child's nonsense. 
 Besides, it is wrong to so indulge that girl in this 
 way the very idea of a nigger acting like a lady ! " 
 
 Jonathan laughed at his wife's petulance, replying : 
 
 " Pet, you shall not be annoyed any longer, you 
 shall have your maid. But, to tell the truth, I had 
 intended to hire her out since her husband has gone. 
 I am afraid she will grow devilish. " 
 
 "Afraid ! " exclaimed Mrs. Maxwell, affecting indig- 
 nation. "Don't you own her? Can't you cut the 
 devil out of her ? I am not afraid of her ; I want 
 her to attend me, and she shall do it Send for her 
 at once. I would not be surprised if she has not 
 grown lazy ; for you know what a little indulgence 
 does for these creatures." 
 
 " Elva informed me this morning that she would 
 be able to attend her duties to-morrow, and, perhaps, 
 we had better wait. Nevertheless, if you insist, why, 
 I shall send for her," said Jonathan, rising and walk- 
 
A MOTHER'S SACRIFICE. 211 
 
 ing toward the bell, which was in easy reach of Mrs. 
 Maxwell. For her to tap it, though, would require 
 too much exertion. 
 
 " I do insist," she said, lying back upon the cushions 
 of the soft chair ; " I want her at once, and will not 
 accept of any of Elva's excuses. I don't believe a 
 word she says, as she only tells us of her relapses to 
 shield her in her indolence. If she is able to attend 
 to her duties to-morrow, she is able now." 
 
 Jonathan had already rung the bell and returned 
 to his seat. He was not pleased with the idea of hav- 
 ing Purcey about again, but being an indulgent hus- 
 band, he yielded to his wife's desires. Had he known 
 how close Elva was when he laid his hand upon the 
 bell, he could have saved himself the trouble, for 
 when he rang, she was right at the door, having 
 been standing there during the entire conversation 
 between her mistress and master. 
 
 We cannot commend Elva for being an eaves- 
 dropper, neither can we condemn her, when we con- 
 sider the character of the teachings she received. 
 Whatever, there was despicable in the nature of a 
 slave could be attributed to the master. The first 
 instinct was to conceal everything from the white 
 folks. Candor was crushed out, honesty beaten out, 
 and truth strangled. In view of this, Elva cannot 
 be judged too harshly. She had overheard the con- 
 versation between her mistress and master, and she 
 knew that, when she would enter that room, the 
 truth must be told. Summoning all of her courage. 
 
212 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 and controlling herself as best she could, she gently 
 pushed open the door and entered. Her head was 
 erect and her step unfaltering, as she advanced to the 
 center of the room, making her accustomed obeisance. 
 
 The rich damask curtains permitted a soft ray of 
 sunlight to creep between their folds, and it fell with 
 warm radiance upon the velvet carpet. Mrs. Max- 
 well had changed her position, so that she saw the 
 form of Elva through the large mirror which stood 
 at one end of the room. She turned her head care- 
 lessly, saying: 
 
 " Elva, I want you to send Purcey to me at once.'' 
 
 The woman hung her head and her eyes sought 
 the floor, but she said not a word in response to her 
 mistress's command, nor did she move. Mrs. Max- 
 well's voice rose to a higher key as she repeated her 
 command. The woman still remained motionless. 
 Turning in her chair, the mistress looked upon Elva 
 and encountered those large black eyes resting fully 
 upon her; their burning intensity caused her to 
 shrink. But it was woman to woman, and she fairly 
 screamed : 
 
 " Elva, what do you mean ? Did you not hear me ? 
 How dare you stand there and not obey ? Leave the 
 room, and do as I bid you." 
 
 A sardonic smile played around Elva's mouth. 
 Raising her eyes arid looking full at her mistress, 
 she said slowly : 
 
 "Miss Jinnie, don't I always 'bey you? Ain't I 
 yours for you to do what you please with ? Yes ; dat's 
 
A MOTHER'S SACRIFICE. 213 
 
 true," she said, as though talking to herself. " But 
 when you tell me bring Puree here, I can't. No; 
 can't do dat, Miss Jinnie." 
 
 " Woman, are you crazy ! " exclaimed Mrs. Max- 
 well, rising. "Leave the room at once, and send 
 Purcey here. If she can't walk, let her crawl. I 
 won't indulge niggers in their laziness any longer." 
 
 Elva walked toward the door, her first intention 
 being to go, and say no more, but at once make her 
 escape. But she quickly reconsidered, for she must 
 stand between her child and her master. If she at- 
 tempted escape, she would only be captured and pun- 
 ished. If she remained and faced the punishment 
 consequent upon her deception, she would at least 
 feel that she was but the sacrifice for her child's 
 liberty. Death had no terrors for her ; she had ac- 
 complished all she could, and was ready now to suf- 
 fer. Upon reaching the door, she turned to her mis- 
 tress, and said : 
 
 " Miss Jinnie, I'm not crazy, but Purcey is beyond 
 your reach, praise God ! She is gone ; and I hope, by 
 this time, she's safe on de other side." 
 
 Jonathan, who had been busily .engaged writing 
 letters, had not paid much attention to what had trans- 
 pired between his wife and Elva, but now that his 
 attention was attracted by the excited manner of his 
 wife, he arose from his seat in time to catch Elva's 
 last remark. 
 
 "What is that you say?" he demanded, as he ap- 
 proached the woman. "Where has she gone? You 
 
214 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 don't mean that she is dead, do you?" and his voice 
 softened. He thought, perhaps, she was dead from the 
 way Elva spoke, a way that the negroes had of speak- 
 ing of the dead ; as, " having crossed over the chilly 
 waters of Jordan," or " beyond this vale of tears," and 
 many other quaint and original sayings. But when 
 Elva informed him what she really meant, he was, in- 
 deed, surprised. 
 
 " No, Massa Johnnie, she's not dead, but free, free ! 
 I hope safe 
 
 Before she could utter another word, Jonathan had 
 her by the throat, 
 
 " You lie, you hag, you. Tell me the truth or I'll 
 strangle you," he said, between his clinched teeth. 
 "Where has she gone? when did she go? Speak!" 
 and, as he said this, he hurled her from him. She 
 caught her breath arid laughed tauntingly at her 
 master. 
 
 " No use, Massa Johnnie. You can beat and you 
 can kill, but whar she's gone and when she went 
 you'll never know." 
 
 Then, with a laugh that rung in Jonathan's ears 
 until his death, she rushed by him out of the room. 
 Mrs. Maxwell had sunk into a chair from fright, and 
 was really applying her own smelling-salts. Jona- 
 than soon followed Elva, summoning the overseer, 
 and directing him to secure Elva and confine her 
 until further orders. Eeturning to his wife, he con- 
 sulted as to what was best to do. She suggested that 
 Elva be punished until she told all she knew. Act- 
 
A MOTHER'S SACRIFICE. 215 
 
 ing upon this suggestion, he instructed Lewis, the 
 overseer, to punish Elva in whatever manner he saw 
 fit, in order to make her divulge what she knew. 
 
 The commission could not have been delegated to 
 one more faithful and willing. It was seldom that 
 any of the house-servants were handed over to be 
 castigated by him, and for the many years he had 
 been upon the Maxwell place, he had never had the 
 opportunity of punishing Elva or any of her chil- 
 dren, and when he assured Jonathan that he would 
 bring her about, he meant to do it, or kill her in the 
 attempt. 
 
 Jonathan was chagrined and greatly put out at the 
 idea of being so cleverly outwitted by Elva. That 
 she must be sold was a settled thing, but something 
 must be learned from her as to the length of time 
 Purcey had been gone. Pursuit would be foolish- 
 ness until this could be ascertained. All the negroes 
 about the place were closely questioned, but not one 
 knew of her disappearance, thus forcing him to the 
 conclusion that Elva alone could furnish the desired 
 information. 
 
 One of the most important things that slaves were 
 impressed with was that they were subordinate to 
 the will of the master, and any infraction of that will 
 would be visited with terrible consequences. They 
 were taught that the white man was supposed to do 
 their thinking ; his word was law, and his will theirs. 
 An example must be made of Elva in order that the 
 other slaves would profit by it Jonathan would 
 
216 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 have liked to have captured Purcey, but as he did 
 not know whether she had been gone a day or a 
 week, he was not very hopeful. When Lewis re- 
 ceived instructions to punish Elva, he at once pro- 
 ceeded to carry out his mission. He did not have 
 much trouble in finding her, as she had gone directly 
 to one of the cabins, where, falling upon her knees, 
 she was engaged in an earnest prayer when he entered. 
 Walking up to the woman, he seized her roughly by 
 the arm, and said : 
 
 "Git up here, you she-devil; I'll give you some- 
 thing to pray for," and he led the way to the corn- 
 crib, which immediately adjoined the barn, and was, 
 at this time, quite empty. He pushed her in, pro- 
 cured a rope, passed it around her wrist, then threw 
 it over a beam and hoisted her body up until her feet 
 just slightly touched the floor. When he had thus 
 secured her, he left her, saying that, when she got 
 ready to talk, she would be taken down. 
 
 She was left in this position for several hours, un- 
 til every sinew in her body had been extended to its 
 utmost tension. Still she remained silent. Finding 
 the woman still stubborn, Lewis decided upon a 
 more severe punishment. He, thereupon, released her 
 and dragged her to the carriage-room. Her hands 
 were placed in a vise and squeezed until the blood 
 spurted from the- ends of her fingers. The woman 
 sank to the floor, writhing in pain, but not a word 
 escaped her lips. Leaving her in this condition, with 
 swollen arms and bleeding fingers, he procured an- 
 
A MOTHER'S SACRIFICE. 217 
 
 other rope, and summoning one of the other men to 
 assist him, raised the prostrate form of the woman 
 and lashed it to an upright post. He then bared her 
 back, and with the end of a heavy leather trace, beat 
 her until his arm became so tired that he could not raise 
 it. Dissolving a quantity of salt in water, he dashed 
 it upon her now lacerated and bleeding back. After 
 releasing her, she sank to the floor, an almost lifeless 
 mass of humanity. 
 
 There she was left to wallow in her own blood, and 
 to die the death of a dog. Lewis recognized now 
 that he had gone too far. But what had he to fear? 
 The law would not prosecute him, even in event of 
 her death. He had but to declare that she had raised 
 her hand against him, and he would be vindicated ; 
 for it was death by the law for a negro to raise his 
 hand against a white man. The punishment inflicted 
 by Lewis upon Elva was cruel, so much so that we 
 wonder that a human heart could be so brutal as to 
 instigate such suffering. But there was no cruelty, 
 no brutality, that the human mind could conceive, 
 that the negroes were not made to suffer. The very 
 devil himself must have been the orginator of some 
 of their cruelties. 
 
 Elva was unable to move from the spot where she 
 sank down, and as she lay there writhing and groan- 
 ing from pain, not a person dared go near her. Elo 
 had been working in the field all day, and did not 
 learn that her mother had been beaten until her re- 
 turn at night Nobody ever noticed her, and she 
 
218 BOND AXD FREE. 
 
 only gained the information by hearing others speak 
 of it When she finally learned where her mother 
 was, she determined upon going to her. Favored by 
 the darkness, she gained an entrance to the carriage- 
 house, and guided by the groans of her mother, she 
 groped her way to her. Placing her hands upon the 
 body, she whispered : 
 
 ''Mamma, mamma, is dis you? " 
 Elva's only answer was a groan. Elo's eyes soon 
 became accustomed to the darkness, and when she 
 discovered the pitiable condition of her mother, un- 
 couth, untutored as she was, she broke out in a par- 
 oxysm of grief. Leaving her mother, she clambered 
 into the loft and obtained some straw. She then pro- 
 cured bedding and made a rude couch, and after con- 
 siderable exertion, at the expense of a great deal of 
 pain to her mother, she succeeded in getting her body 
 in a more comfortable position. Having done this, 
 she went and obtained food and water, and, with her 
 mother's head upon her lap, insisted upon her partak- 
 ing of it. When Elva recognized who it was that 
 was treating her so kindly, she endeavored to place 
 her arm around the child's neck, whispering : 
 " God bless you, honey, (rod bless you !" 
 The child was overcome with joy upon hearing her 
 mother's voice, and, regardless of the pain she caused, 
 she wildly threw her arms about her neck, exclaim- 
 ing: 
 
 "Oh, mamma, you is all right; isn't you? " 
 
 " Yes, honey," replied the mother. " I'se all right, 
 
A MOTHER'S SACRIFICE. 219 
 
 but I'se goin' to leave you. I hear de music ; I'se 
 nearin' de river; give me yo hand, chile." 
 
 l ' Oh, took me wid you, mamma ; I don't want to 
 stay har ! Whar you gwine ? " 
 
 Elo did not fully realize her mother's pitiful con- 
 dition, nor did she understand the meaning of her 
 words. She did not know that, in a few moments, 
 all that was mortal of her mother would be lifeless. 
 
 "I can't take you now, chile," said Elva, " but be 
 good and you'll come bye and bye. Look yonder, 
 honey ! See de angels ! Hark ! hear de music. Good- 
 bye, Massa Johnnie, Elva's free -.free at last !" 
 
 With these words, her head fell heavily upon the 
 child's bosom. A smile overspread her face, and her 
 eyes were closed in death. Thus died this slave- 
 mother, sacrificing her life that her child might en 
 joy freedom, a martyr to liberty, and, although denied 
 every opportunity to cultivate a mind undoubtedly 
 possessed of great natural powers, yet her life was a 
 bright luminary among those with whom she dwelt. 
 
 Come, Jonathan Maxwell, and view your work! 
 Gaze upon the lifeless form of this woman ! See if 
 you cannot realize what you have done a father sold, 
 a mother and son fleeing for what you enjoy unre- 
 strained, and at your feet a lifeless form, made so by 
 your command ! Is the master's will obeyed ? Is the 
 brutality of your overseer satiated ? 
 
 Elo called upon her mother to speak again, but the 
 lips remained motionless. The child had never be- 
 fore been in the presence of death, and, realizing that 
 
220 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 something unusual had happened her mother, she set 
 up such a terrible screaming that, in a short time, 
 nearly everybody upon the place was alarmed. When 
 they rushed into the carriage- house, they beheld a 
 sight that almost froze the marrow in their bones. 
 The body was removed and laid away with the cere- 
 mony which the other slaves were permitted to be- 
 stow, and Brother Beldin discussed her virtues to a 
 weeping and sympathetic audience. The mother-earth 
 closed over Elva's remains, but no stone or other em- 
 blem marks her resting-place ; and she lives only in 
 the memory of those for whom she sacrificed so much ? 
 and in that of Jonathan, who never forgot the last 
 look she gave him. 
 
 Uncle Joshua wore crape upon his battered white 
 hat for many long days, and Elo, who never became 
 reconciled to her mother's punishment and death, 
 grew so vicious that whipping had no effect upon 
 her, and she was sold to the traders and taken South. 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE TEACHER AND HER PUPIL CROSS THE 
 LINE. 
 
 The old stage-coach in which Purcey and Sallie 
 had taken passage rumbled through the narrow street 
 of a small village, and stopped in front of a rather 
 modest and unpretentious-looking dwelling. The 
 driver alighted and informed them that the occupant 
 of the house was a widow lady, who would, perhaps, 
 give them accommodation. Sallie left Purcey and 
 the child in the stage and approached the house. 
 She raised the heavy brass knocker, and the sound, 
 as it fell, seemed to reecho throughout the house^ 
 In response to the knock, the door was opened by a 
 tall, matronly-looking female, with a sad face, the 
 corners of the mouth well drawn down ; a pair oi 
 eyes of a greenish tint looked over a pair of bowed 
 spectacles, and her gray hair was done up in crisp 
 curls, which could just be seen beneath a black lace 
 cap ; a black gown and a black apron adorned the 
 figure, and the rather sombre appearance of the 
 woman was only relieved by a white collar which 
 encircled her neck, protruding about an inch above 
 the black band of the dress. 
 
 Sallie made known her wants to this individual, 
 stating that she wanted accommodation for herself, 
 
 [221] 
 
222 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 a servant, and a child. The Widow Thorm informed 
 her that she would accommodate them the best she 
 could, and invited her in. Purcey and the child fol- 
 lowed. They were ushered into a small, but neat, 
 parlor, where a cheerful fire was burning in an open 
 fire place. It was still raining, and our travelers 
 were tired and hungry. The widow busied herself 
 in making them comfortable, paying all attention to 
 Sallie, as a matter of course. When she had assisted 
 her in removing her wraps, she said : 
 
 "Now, miss, the servant can take the child and go 
 into the kitchen, where she will find a comfortable 
 fire." 
 
 "No," said Sallie, " I prefer her to remain here 
 with me." 
 
 The widow raised her eyes in surprise, but said 
 nothing. When the meal which Sallie had ordered 
 was prepared, it was announced by a rather diminu- 
 tive, hungry-looking servant girl, who ambled into 
 the parlor and stared first at Sallie, then at Purcey, 
 finally stating that "missa said de white lady was to 
 come to supper." 
 
 They both, however, followed her into the dining- 
 room, which was small like the parlor, but equally 
 as neat. Sallie looked at the table, and saw that pre- 
 parations had been made for herself only. She asked 
 for an additional chair for Purcey, which was placed 
 at the table. The widow again looked surprised. 
 While they ate, she carefully scanned the child, con- 
 cluding that Purcey was the mother. She was some- 
 
ACKOSS THE LINE. 223 
 
 what puzzled, as she could not understand how it was 
 that a young white lady, traveling with a servant, 
 permitted that servant to carry about with her a child 
 of which she was evidently the mother. Deeming 
 it impertinent to ask any questions, she decided to 
 control her curiosity until she could consult her ad- 
 viser. 
 
 The Widow Thorm, as she was called throughout 
 the village, was well known to the residents of that 
 quiet little hamlet. She earned rather a respectable 
 living by keeping boarders, and was possessed of all 
 the qualities of the average boarding-house mistress, 
 combining a considerable degree of cleverness with a 
 confiding nature. Her house was liberally patronized 
 during the summer season, by people seeking quiet 
 from the noise and bustle of city life, and its limited 
 quarters were often taxed to the fullest extent. 
 
 While the widow had great confidence in herself, 
 yet she entertained much respect for the views and 
 opinions of her friend, Dr. Parloe, a gentleman who 
 compounded medicines and attended the ills of the 
 village sick. This was the adviser whom she in- 
 tended to consult. 
 
 After Sallie and Purcey had finished their meal, 
 they returned to the parlor, where the widow awaited 
 them. As they entered, she addressed Sallie, saying : 
 
 "I shall have to place your servant in the room 
 with mine, as I have no other place for her to sleep." 
 
 " Don't give yourself the least trouble about that, 1 ' 
 replied Sallie, "we can both occupy the same room; 
 
224 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 in fact, I much prefer it, as I never like to be sepa- 
 rated from my servant" 
 
 "You don't mean, miss, that you will sleep in the 
 same room with your servant!" said the widow, 
 plainly displaying her astonishment. 
 
 " That is just what I mean. My health is not good, 
 and I never sleep without having her in the room 
 with me." 
 
 The widow was a lady who believed that there was 
 no level upon which black and white could meet. 
 She had entertained, under her hospitable roof, all 
 classes of people, but never before had she come in 
 contact with a white lady who desired her negro ser- 
 vant to sleep in the same room with her. It was not 
 that she was prejudiced, but it was so contrary to all 
 custom. She was astonished when they ate at the 
 same table ; but now, they were to sleep in the same 
 room, and, as ghe had made no other arrangements, 
 probably in the same bed. She was outdone. Who 
 could this strange couple be? Purcey was fair and 
 handsome, but it was evident that she was of negro 
 descent, for the child clearly betrayed that fact. Sal- 
 lie was comely, but, to all appearance, a mistress, yet 
 she did not understand their relations. 
 
 Like all women, the widow was curious, but she 
 said to Sallie : 
 
 ^ " Well, miss, I shall arrange the room, and you 
 can retire whenever you see fit. Of course, if you 
 have no objection to your servant occupying the same 
 
ACROSS THE LINE. 225 
 
 room with you, why, I am sure I have none," and she 
 left the room with a look of disgust 
 
 Sallie laughed, and, turning to Purcey, said: 
 "She seems quite curious, does she not?" 
 " Yes," answered Purcey. " I only hope her curi- 
 osity will not lead her too far. We are in a strange 
 country, and I so fear some one will suspect us; we 
 must be very cautious so as not to arouse any sus- 
 picion. I don't think I can sleep much to-night, al- 
 though I am very tired." 
 
 "I am tired, too," said Sallie, drawing near to Pur- 
 cey, and speaking in a low voice, "but I shall watch 
 while you sleep, and you can do the same while I 
 sleep." 
 
 They did not have time to say anything more, for 
 the diminutive servant of the widow appeared, and 
 announced that their room was ready. They fol- 
 lowed her upstairs to a tidy bed room, and, after giv- 
 ing orders to be called in time for the early morning 
 stage, they locked themselves in the room. They 
 both needed rest, so, after having discussed their plans 
 for the next day, Sallie retired while Purcey kept 
 watch. 
 
 The Widow Thorm had betaken herself to the lit- 
 tle parlor after her guest had retired. Having stirred 
 up the fire, she placed upon a table a tray containing 
 a cup and saucer, and a good-sized silver tea-urn. 
 She smoothed out the wrinkles in her dress, adjusted 
 her cap, and seated herself as though in waiting for 
 some one. She had been seated for some time, her 
 
 15 
 
226 BOND AN]) FEEE. 
 
 mind engaged with thoughts of her guest, when the 
 outer door opened, and the footsteps of a man were 
 heard in the hallway. The widow did not appear 
 anyway alarmed, but waited until the man made his 
 appearance. As he entered the room, she arose, ap- 
 proached him ,and relieved him of his hat and cane, 
 her face wearing a most benign smile, and her green- 
 ish eyes twinkling with delight. 
 
 The person who had just entered the widow's 
 domicile in such a familiar manner was Doctor Par- 
 loe, the village apothecary and medical adviser, and 
 the Widow Thornrs legal and medical adviser. He 
 was a very frequent, as well as a welcome, visitor. t It 
 may have been a late hour for a lone lady to receive 
 a visitor, but then the doctor could not come until 
 after business hours, and if there were any impropri- 
 ety in the lateness of the hour, the circumstances un- 
 der which he called made him feel privileged. Doc- 
 tor Parloe was a man who had seen some fifty odd 
 years. His experience in life had been such as to 
 make him a very practical man, yet there are things 
 in the life of some men, although of fifty years' ex- 
 perience, that are criticised by the world. But the 
 world is cynical at any rate, and if Doctor Parloe had 
 schooled himself to have opinions in which other 
 men refused to concur, why. he simply pronounced 
 all those who differed with him as fools. He was not 
 a misanthropist that is, in the strict sense yet he 
 had little regard for mankind, and no respect for 
 their opinions when they differed from his. He was 
 
ACEOSS THE LINE. 227 
 
 philosophic, so he thought and so the widow thought 
 That a man like the doctor should condescend to 
 give his valuable time to a person like the Widow 
 Thorm, would have appeared remarkable, were it not 
 for the fact that, no matter how lofty man soars, he 
 must find some congenial companionship on this 
 mundane sphere. In the widow, the doctor found 
 what he could not find in others a good listener, a 
 generous soul, a confiding nature, and one who never 
 disputed his opinions. He was, as we have said, a 
 frequent and welcome visitor at the widow's. No 
 matter when he came, a generous supply of cold tea, 
 a favorite beverage of the doctor's, was always on 
 hand. He generally remained until the tea was ex- 
 hausted and Thorm, as he called her, was weighted 
 down with his logic and would grow disinterested. 
 
 In appearance, the doctor was anything but philo- 
 sophical, being rotund in form and possessing a very 
 broad and very red face, with a rim of whiskers that 
 ran from one ear to the other, under a very fat chin 
 which rested upon his cravat. His head was decor- 
 ated with a few scattered hairs, which formed a circle 
 around the lower part, leaving the top utterly bare. 
 He had but one eye, but it was a brilliant and fiery 
 orb ; its luster seemed never to be dimmed. Seating 
 himself at the table, on which sat the tea urn, he, 
 without ceremony, filled his cup and .turned the full 
 effulgence of that single eye upon the widow, who sat 
 opposite him. 
 
 The widow invariably permitted the doctor to 
 
228 BOND AND FKEE. 
 
 open the conversation, her part being to give quiet 
 acquiescence. In fact, the doctor assumed the right 
 to speak before being spoken to, and one of his chief 
 reasons for visiting the widow so often was because 
 she was so good a listener. But to-night she was 
 burning up with curiosity, and she overleaped the 
 bounds of all precedent, arid shocked the doctor so 
 severely that it took him some time to recover. The 
 widow broke out almost as soon as he was seated : 
 
 "Doctor Parloe, something very remarkable has 
 happened in the house. Pray, what do you think? " 
 
 Now, the first remark, notwithstanding the fact 
 that the widow had committed a breach, was all 
 right; but when she asked the doctor what he 
 thought, the arm with which he was conveying the 
 cup of tea to his lips stopped half way, his eye 
 opened wide, his lips parted, and he stared at the 
 woman in such a manner as to forcibly remind her 
 of what she had done. She was about to apologize, 
 when he set the cup down and said, in a slow, deliber- 
 ate manner: 
 
 " I think, I think, Thorm, that you are a fool," and, 
 raising his cup of tea, he drank it at a draught. 
 
 Thorm did not stop for this, but broke in by say- 
 ing: " But, doctor, this is really important, and I want 
 your opinion." 
 
 "That," said he, "you shall have, but I hope you 
 will not forget yourself again. Always remember 
 the distance between the philosophic and the unphil- 
 osophic mind ; always have a due regard for those 
 
ACROSS THE LINE. 229 
 
 who, by their great abilities, are distinctive in their 
 natures. Proceed." 
 
 " To-night," began the widow, " there came here a 
 lady with a negro-servant. The servant had a child. 
 When I proposed that she (the servant) eat in the 
 kitchen, the lady objected, and 
 
 " There !" said the doctor, raising his hand and clos- 
 ing his eye. " You need not go any further, she is 
 an abolitionist." 
 
 " But that is not all," continued the widow. "When 
 I informed her I could not give the servant sleeping 
 accommodation unless she slept in the same room with 
 mine, she horrified me by telling me they could both 
 sleep in the same room. Isn't it awful ?" 
 
 "Not at all," said the doctor, "not at all. That 
 goes to prove my theory more conclusively. She is 
 a black abolitionist, that is my opinion. Now, my ad- 
 vice is, that you devote your time exclusively to your 
 own business, and don't interfere with that of your 
 neighbors ; and if a young white woman so far for- 
 gets her elevated station as to eat at the same table 
 and sleep in the same room with a black woman, don't 
 you do it." 
 
 The widow had, of course, nothing more to say -af- 
 ter this opinion and admonition. He was allowed 
 to indulge in his usual evening's talk, the widow sit- 
 ting a patient listener. The subject of the guest was 
 not touched upon any more, and when the doctor had 
 finished his last cup of tea and the last of the tea, the 
 widow caught herself nodding acquiescence to some- 
 
230 BOXD AXD FREE. 
 
 thing she had not heard. He bade her good-night, 
 with this parting injunction: " Remember, Thorm, all 
 you have to do with the strangers is to collect your 
 bill before they depart, and don't interfere with that 
 which don't concern you." 
 
 The former part of this advice was unnecessary, as 
 she rarely, if ever, lost a bill. The widow was not 
 at all satisfied with the doctor's advice or opinion ; 
 her curiosity was not appeased, but, placing implicit 
 confidence in his conclusions, she forced herself to 
 accept them in lieu of anything better, and retired for 
 the night. 
 
 The next day broke forth with all the beauty and 
 favor that nature could bestow. There was but little 
 more than the usual bustle about the Widow Therm's 
 hostelrie, and at the appointed hour the stage-coach 
 drove up to the door ; the widow's rather exorbitant 
 bill was settled by Sal lie, and once more Purcey set 
 her face toward freedom. Purcey's object now was 
 to travel, without another stop, direct to Canada. She 
 had selected as short a route as was safe for them to 
 take. Having reached the town of E , in Penn- 
 sylvania, she was at last in sight of the promised land. 
 The long, gray strip of land stretched out before her 
 gaze presented an inviting view ; it was the refuge 
 for which she longed the Canaan of her hopes. Her 
 heart throbbed with joy unutterable as she beheld 
 it, but a wide expanse of water intervened between 
 her and liberty, as well as difficulties not antici- 
 pated. She and Sallie could not take a boat and 
 
ACROSS THE LINE. 231 
 
 cross boldly. To do this, she feared, would create 
 suspicion that might lead to inquiries not easily or 
 satisfactorily answered. Sallie had no papers in her 
 possession to show that she was the mistress, nor did 
 she know anything of this requirement. Purcey did, 
 however, and thought of it more than once during 
 their travels. She was confident that Jonathan had 
 advertised her ; and the points that, she was certain, 
 would be watched were all Northern places affording 
 passage to Canada. 
 
 They had reached the place where they now were 
 at night, and were quartered at a small tavern. They 
 could not leave their present place of concealment in 
 daylight, and Purcey feared to leave it at night, ex- 
 cept alone. This necessitated a separation from Sallie. 
 She further realized that she must cross the lake 
 under the care and protection of some one person. 
 Now, where was that person to be found, and who 
 would it be? They were sitting in their room, Sallie 
 engaged in reading, while Purcey's brain was actively 
 engaged in struggling with the above thoughts. Re- 
 membering that she had seen a negro boy doing chores 
 about the house, she decided to gain, if possible, some 
 information from him. Perhaps he could guide her 
 across the lake, or direct her to some one who could. 
 Sallie must, however, approach him and procure the 
 necessary information. Having reached this conclu- 
 sion, she proceeded to disclose to Sallie her plans. 
 She said : 
 
 " Sallie, you know that we are now in sight of 
 
232 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 Canada, but we cannot cross the lake together. You 
 must go ahead and wait for me." 
 
 " Why must I leave you? " said Sallie, raising her 
 eyes from her book with a look of astonishment. 
 " Would you not be safer with me ? Cannot both of 
 us cross safely? " 
 
 "No," said Purcey, "you have no papers to prove 
 that I am your property, should any one question us. 
 It would be better that you take the boat to-morrow, 
 and I shall follow at night with the child." 
 
 " I fear," exclaimed Sallie, who now began to re- 
 alize the danger her friend was in, " that something 
 might befall you. Why not entrust the child to my 
 care?" 
 
 Purcey would not listen to this, but insisted that 
 Sallie should precede her. 
 
 "You must do one thing for me before you leave/' 
 she said. "You must try and .secure some informa- 
 tion from the boy who attended us upon our arrival 
 as to how I shall get across the lake." 
 
 "I will," said Sallie, "but I do so dislike to leave 
 you. There is great danger in your being alone." 
 
 "Don't fear," was Purcey 's reply ; and she gave 
 a smile of assurance to Sallie that somewhat allayed 
 her fears. " I will reach those shores," and she pointed 
 in direction of Canada, "or die in the attempt." As 
 she gave utterance to these words, her beautiful face 
 colored a crimson hue, and her eyes flashed like fire. 
 
 The following day, Sallie got the boy to the room 
 under pretense of having him wait upon her. From 
 
ACROSS THE LINE. 233 
 
 him she ascertained that a station of the Underground 
 Railroad was located within a few miles of the town, 
 and if Purcey could reach that point, she would have 
 no difficulty in getting across the lake. 
 
 When Purcey heard this, she was delighted. She 
 knew what the Underground Railroad was, and she 
 felt that she would be safely conducted to freedom 
 through its agency. The boy gave her the necessary 
 instructions how to reach it, and bidding Sallie fare- 
 well, directing her to look for her on the following 
 day, Purcey retired to her room with her child. Sal- 
 lie informed the landlord that she would return for 
 her servant in a few days. Having been duly paid 
 in advance for their board, that worthy gave himself 
 no concern as to whether she returned or not within 
 the specified time. 
 
 Purcey retired to the little room lately occupied 
 by her friend, and from the window watched the 
 stage until it disappeared from sight. Turning from 
 the window, she caught a glimpse of a man standing 
 directly under it, peering up in her face. As 
 soon as she discovered the man, a feeling of fear 
 overcame her ; she soon recalled to her mind where 
 she had seen that face before. There were the little, 
 ferret-like eyes, the beardless face, the shabby-genteel 
 hat, the threadbare clothing, and the suave smile of 
 Mr. Jamison, whom she had seen on the train. 
 
 Jamison recognized her at a glance, and as he did 
 so, he slapped his knee with his hand, saying : 
 
 "Well ah by Jove ! that's the gal that gave us 
 
234 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 the slip. Oh, if Sledger was only here!" But Sled- 
 ger was not there, he having returned South with 
 some slaves whom he had claimed as his own, proving 
 them by fictitious papers prepared by Jamison, who 
 was now traveling about, earning a penny anywhere 
 and any way he could. He had no thought of ever 
 seeing Purcey again, and was now greatly surprised. 
 
 He did not know where Sallie was, not having 
 seen her take her departure, but he could find out 
 something about them by inquiring at the tavern. 
 Entering the tavern, he sought the landlord and 
 learned from him of Sallie's departure and her inten 
 tion to return in a couple of days, which, of course, 
 left Purcey alone. 
 
 Now, Mr. Jamison was not a brave man, but he 
 was a shrewd one, and he quickly concluded that if 
 he could gain possession of Purcey and spirit her 
 away before Sallie's return, he could make a profit- 
 able speculation on his own hook. He decided to 
 watch her movements and to take advantage of the 
 first opportunity to kidnap her. He could find ready 
 hands to assist him in this business, and he lost no 
 time in securing them. 
 
 Purcey knew the man had recognized her, and she 
 became greatly alarmed ; she did not leave her room, 
 but waited patiently for darkness, intending to start 
 for the place to which she had been directed, where 
 she would find assistance in crossing the lake. She 
 thought of employing the negro boy to escort her; 
 then she feared compromising him. The directions 
 
ACROSS THE LINE. 235 
 
 given her led her over an unfrequented path through 
 a lonely woods, but the course was so direct, she felt 
 confident that she would not be lost. Knowing 
 nothing of the country and attempting such a haz- 
 ardous thing without a guide caused her to hesitate, 
 but she feared that if she remained about the tavern 
 too long, the man whom she had seen might attack 
 her, and, now that Sallie was gone, take her back. 
 
 The sun had not buried itself behind the western 
 hills many hours before Purcey. leading her child by 
 the hand, stole quietly from a rear door of the tavern, 
 passed through the stable-yard unnoticed, and made 
 directly for a piece of woods some distance beyond. 
 She had gotten but a short distance, when two men 
 started in pursuit of her. The men did not try to 
 overtake her, but kept her in sight and endeavored 
 to keep from being seen. Eeaching the woods, 
 Purcey stopped, fastened her dress up around her 
 waist, lifted her child upon her back, and started 
 off on a brisk trot. She traveled for some distance 
 this way, until she became fatigued. Stopping to 
 rest, she heard the rapid approach of footsteps. The 
 moon was now shining brightly, shedding its pale light 
 over field and forest, and aiding this plucky young 
 woman along her course. 
 
 The zephyr-like breeze gently stirred the leaves, and 
 the notes of the katydids and crickets went up clear 
 and distinct in the otherwise silent night. She was not 
 mistaken ; rapidly were footsteps approaching. She 
 grasped the child and started again; on, on, she rushed, 
 
236 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 over briers and bushes. She had struck the right path, 
 and she followed it without deviation. The bushes 
 would catch her skirts, but she tarried not for this, nor 
 did she stop to look around ; for she knew that she was 
 being pursued, and she must elude her pursuers. On 
 she rushed, her heart set upon gaining liberty for her- 
 self and child. She did not for a moment stop to 
 think of husbanding her strength in case of being 
 overtaken, but kept madly on. Her limbs soon be- 
 gan to weaken, her gait slacken, and she heard the 
 voices of men. Looking around, she beheld two men 
 approaching her ; one of them was Jamison. She saw 
 now it was useless to fly, so she determined to make 
 a fight. Liberty was a precious boon, and if she 
 could not enjoy that, then she preferred death. 
 Placing her child upon the ground, and standing be- 
 tween it and the two men, who were now within a 
 few yards of her, she raised her eyes to heaven and 
 exclaimed : "Oh God, Almighty Father, protect me 
 with Thy strong arm ! " 
 
 The child clung to her dress, and looked innocently 
 into her face. She stooped and kissed it, and it smiled. 
 The smile gave her courage, for she realized that two 
 lives must be protected, the one even dearer than her 
 own. From her pocket she drew forth her master's 
 silver-mounted pistol, and awaited the approach of 
 the men. Mr. Jamison got within a few feet of her, 
 when she leveled the weapon at him, and commanded 
 him to halt, which he did, falling in the rear of his 
 
ACROSS THE LINE. 237 
 
 companion. Being now in a safer position, he cried 
 out: 
 
 " Put that toy away, my dear ; you might hurt some- 
 body." 
 
 "That's my intention," replied Purcey. "What 
 are you following me for? " 
 
 " Well, ah," said Jamison, " a fellow can't talk look- 
 ing down the muzzle of a thing like that. " 
 
 " What do you want? " demanded the woman. 
 
 Jamison now directed his companion to speak. 
 
 " I am a constable, and have authority to arrest 
 you. Put down that pistol, or I will shoot you." As 
 he said this, he attempted to raise his arm, when Pur- 
 cey quickly exclaimed : 
 
 " Move an inch, and I will blow your brains out." 
 Continuing, she said: " Gentlemen, I don't intend to 
 be arrested, and I command you to leave me. I 
 will give you one minute." She kept her eye upon 
 them, and the pistol in position. 
 
 The child had been clinging to her dress. Grow- 
 ing frightened, he began to cry, and, consequently, 
 diverted her attention. Fearing that he would get 
 away from her, she reached for him, and as she did 
 so, Jamison exclaimed : 
 
 " At her, Canby ! " 
 
 Canby sprang forward, and immediately the report 
 of a pistol, mingled with the music of the katydids 
 and crickets and the groans of Canby, sounded upon 
 the still night air. Another report rang out, and the 
 form of Jamison could be seen making a serpentine 
 
238 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 winding in and out from behind the trees. He did 
 not stop to see whether his companion was dead or 
 alive. Canby was seriously, but not fatally, wounded, 
 and lay upon the ground perfectly helpless. 
 
 Seizing her child again, the woman swung him 
 upon her back, and fairly flew through thicket and 
 brush, over fences, and across ditches. She ran as 
 though pursued by a legion of demons. Not once 
 did she slacken her speed, until she came in sight of 
 a little log hut, whose outlines could be distinctly 
 discerned in the moonlight. She hurriedly gave the 
 signal which had been given her, and presently a man 
 made his appearance at the door, waving a lantern 
 around his head three times. She advanced cau- 
 tiously toward the house, and, upon reaching it, was 
 conducted inside. Being overcome by the weight of 
 the child and the exciting chase she had had, she 
 sank almost lifeless upon the floor. Kind hands soon 
 brought her back to consciousness, when she ex- 
 pressed a desire to continue her journey at once. A 
 guide conducted her in a circuitous route to the lake, 
 where they embarked in a small boat, and were soon 
 out upon the waters. She felt that she was now al- 
 most a free woman. 
 
 In a short time, the boat grated upon the Canadian 
 shore ; and scarcely waiting for it to be landed upon 
 the dry beach, she seized her child and sprang ashore. 
 Falling upon her knees, she thanked Grod for her 
 safe delivery. She cried, she prayed. She shouted 
 and sung by turns. Grasping her child in her arms, 
 
ACROSS THE LINE. 239 
 
 she pressed it to her bosom and covered its brow with 
 kisses. Then she prayed for her mother and husband. 
 The one was beyond the reach of her prayers, and the 
 other was almost, at that moment, plunging into a 
 deeper slavery than he had ever yet known. 
 
 Sallie was found, and when the two women met, 
 there was a joyful time. Purcey felt under many 
 obligations to her friend, and was profuse in her 
 thanks. Together they set about to perfect arrange- 
 ments to communicate with Purcey 's husband, and, 
 if possible, secure his freedom. It was found a diffi- 
 cult matter to decide what steps to take to obtain 
 this end, as letters would avail nothing, and a visit 
 by Sallie to the old home would probably be attended 
 with great danger. Purcey believed that William 
 would follow her by escaping at the first opportunity, 
 and concluded to trust in Providence and await his 
 coming. Securing for herself and child a home, she 
 settled down in the expectation of seeing him soon. 
 Sallie obtained a profitable situation, and the com- 
 panionship between them remained fast and firm. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 WILLIAM'S STRIKE FOK FREEDOM. 
 
 The cavalcade, consisting of horses, wagons, drivers, 
 and negroes, behind which Jass Lillie rode, made 
 rapid progress on its way southward. Lillie viewed 
 with complacency and satisfaction the rich specula- 
 tion and the magnificent bargains he had made in 
 his purchase. It was his custom to reach a town, if 
 possible, by night, where a jail was located, in order 
 to place his herd safely under lock and key. He had 
 two reasons for doing this : first, entire safety against 
 any of them running away was guaranteed ; second, 
 it gave him an opportunity to seek a tavern and in- 
 dulge in that popular Southern game of draw-poker, 
 undisturbed by thoughts of his herd being quartered 
 in a field and the chances of any of them escaping. 
 He was making as direct for Georgia as he could, and 
 had gotten well down into the southern part of Vir- 
 ginia without any unusual mishap. The drivers 
 were being urged to reach the borders of North Car- 
 olina just as rapidly as possible, realizing that the 
 farther South they reached, the less chance was there 
 for any to escape. 
 
 The women and children in the wagons got along 
 well enough, so far as being relieved of the hardships 
 of traveling by foot was concerned. The men were 
 
 [240] 
 
WILLIAM'S STRIKE FOR FREEDOM. 241 
 
 greatly fatigued, wearied, and foot-sore. The mana- 
 cles about their wrists and the chains to which they 
 were attached had caused their limbs to become 
 swollen and painful. No matter whether the horses 
 went fast or slow, these people, being attached to the 
 wagon, were consequently dragged along over the 
 rough roads. William was accustomed to hardships ; 
 he came from a cruel, heartless master ; his back at- 
 tested, by the many marks upon it, that the bull-whip 
 was no new thing to him. He had been struck down 
 like an ox and beaten until he could not stand ; but 
 he was now experiencing a hardship to which he was 
 quite unaccustomed. When he was sold by Judge 
 Coleman to Lillie, he was not burdened with an ex- 
 tensive wardrobe. If such had been the case, Lillie 
 would have relieved him, for in that worthy's esti- 
 mation, one of the most useless things to a negro was 
 a wardrobe. Sufficient clothing to cover nakedness 
 was all he permitted to negroes under his paternal 
 care, whether male or female. The wear and tear 
 upon the clothes of the men had reduced nearly all 
 of them to a state of nudity. 
 
 William's shoes had completely parted company 
 with his feet, which were cut, bruised, and swollen : 
 and as he sat with his back against the cold stone 
 wall of the prison, where Lillie had incarcerated them 
 for the night, it took all of the manhood he had to 
 conceal from those around him the tears which tried 
 to force their way from his eyes. His thoughts wan- 
 dered back to his former home, to the sad separation 
 
 16 
 
242 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 from his wife and child. He thought of how he had 
 left her lying prostrate upon the floor, and the last 
 message he left for her, that he would escape the first 
 chance he got. Where were that wife and child now ? 
 Were they still in bondage, or had they escaped? 
 While sitting there, fatigued in body, foot-sore, and 
 sick at heart, with the ring of the voices of his fel- 
 low-slaves, now released from their chains, singing, 
 patting juba, and dancing, having not a care or a 
 thought of their .miserable condition, William fell 
 into a fitful sleep. 
 
 When he awoke, he gazed about in a dazed man- 
 ner, as though he did not realize where he was. 
 He had been dreaming, and in that dream he had 
 seen his wife and child make their escape into freedom. 
 He had seen them pursued by the "nigger-catchers' 1 
 and bloodhounds, but they seemed to be borne along 
 upon wings, so swiftly did they fly through brush 
 and brier, over rocks and through streams. On they 
 sped, until a great, bright light rose up before them. 
 A cloud sailed through the heavens, then it slowly de- 
 scended to earth, between them and their pursuers. 
 A land now appeared whose shores seemed tinted 
 with a golden hue. There, standing with outstretched 
 arms, were many familiar faces beaming with smiles, 
 who seemed to await them, and as they stepped upon 
 the golden shores, the air resounded with joyous 
 shouts. 
 
 Like most slaves, William placed great confidence 
 in dreams. There was no picture figured in the brain 
 
WILLIAM'S STRIKE FOR FREEDOM. 243 
 
 while in the arms of Morpheus, no matter how fan- 
 ciful, that was not generally subject to interpretation 
 among the slaves. They had no dream-books, but 
 they had wonderful memories and suggestive imag- 
 inations; and every dream, whether induced by an 
 overloaded stomach or restlessness from a severe 
 castigation, had its meaning. People who believe in 
 these unaccountable wanderings of the mind say that 
 dreams are contrary, but it was not so with William. 
 He believed the dream he had was true ; he believed 
 his wife and child were either in a free land or were 
 making an effort to reach one. That the dream was 
 a revelation to him from an unseen power, was con- 
 vincing to his untutored and superstitious mind. It 
 caused him to reflect, and reflection caused him to 
 act. 
 
 Every step he now took bore him farther and far- 
 ther away. The hope of keeping the promise made 
 his wife began to grow more and more faint. There 
 was no time to lose, for if he ever expected to escape, 
 now was his time. He did not know the exact des- 
 tination of Lillie, but he knew that they were bound 
 for the South, and at the first good slave-market 
 reached, outside the boundaries of Virginia, he was 
 as liable to be sold as any of the rest. That they 
 were in the extreme southern portion of his native 
 State he was aware ; he could not, however, correctly 
 judge the exact time when the line would be crossed, 
 but felt that it was near. In this conclusion, he was 
 correct. 
 
244 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 A favorable opportunity to escape, as well as an 
 early one, was now his only hope. Why had he not 
 acted long before this why had he waited until 
 carried miles from his former home into a strange 
 country, of which he knew nothing? William had 
 now reached that point where he found it necessary 
 to help himself. He had appealed to Heaven for 
 assistance, but had made no effort toward putting in- 
 to operation the means with which nature had pro- 
 vided him. A courageous heart, strong arms, and 
 stout limbs were his ; and if he would be free, if he 
 would gaze again upon his loved ones, these must be 
 put to use. 
 
 From his present confinement, he could not hope 
 to escape; he must wait until they again encamped 
 in the open air. The sun had scarcely risen in the 
 track of the receding moon, when the drivers entered 
 the jail and began preparations for another hard 
 day's travel. Women and children were tumbled 
 unceremoniously into the wagons, and the men 
 roughly pushed in their places, Lillie's drivers were 
 unusually hilarious, a fact which made them still 
 more brutal, and it was evident to the most casual 
 observer that they had been indulging freely in ap- 
 ple-jack, or something equally as stimulating. Every- 
 thing now being in readiness, the cavalcade was set 
 in motion. The horses were given the whip, and the 
 wagons rumbled through the streets of the sleepy 
 town, past fields and plantations in which poor slaves 
 were laboring, the sun not yet fully risen. They had 
 
WILLIAM'S STEIKE FOR FREEDOM. 245 
 
 traveled several miles at rather a rapid pace, the 
 horses on a keen jump and the manacled and chained 
 men dragged along behind the wagon with the same 
 speed. The horses were finally allowed to proceed 
 slowly in order that Lillie, who had been left behind, 
 might overtake them. The sun con tinned, to creep 
 higher and higher, until the full effulgence of its rays 
 beat down upon the earth. The hours passed, but 
 still Lillie did not come. 
 
 When it came time to feed, a halt was made, and 
 while some of the negro men were released to attend 
 the horses, the drivers regaled themselves from the 
 well-filled bottle with which they were provided. 
 Having waited a considerable length of time, they 
 were now in a quandary what to do, not having re- 
 ceived orders before leaving. They concluded that, 
 as they were enjoying their whisky and the shade 'of 
 some friendly trees, they could wait. The wagons 
 were turned out of the road, a field was taken pos- 
 session of, and every preparation made to camp for 
 the night. One of the drivers approached William 
 and said: 
 
 " Bill, I want you to stand guard to-night and see 
 that none of these niggers git away; I guess I can 
 trust you.'' 
 
 William saw from the man's actions that he had 
 been imbibing pretty freely, and he quickly guessed 
 the reason why he was selected to do guard duty 
 over his fellow-slaves, for not one of the drivers was 
 
246 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 in a fit condition to keep awake an hour, so overcome 
 were they by their indulgence. He replied : 
 
 " Yes, massa, I'll do de best I can, but won't no- 
 body else help me ?" 
 
 " Help you ! What in the h 1 do you want with 
 help ? ^in't they all chained ? HI help you if any- 
 thing goes wrong. Help you ! Ain't I here ? All 
 you got to do is watch them niggers ; I'll look out 
 for the help." 
 
 This was said in a maudlin voice, and he reeled 
 back to where his comrades were stretched out upon 
 the ground, filling the air with ribald songs and 
 drunken laughter. 
 
 Afar off in the west could be seen the beautiful 
 crimson tint of the sky, the sun having lowered itself 
 as if to kiss the earth. A gray mist arose in the dis- 
 tance, presenting the appearance of a veil about to 
 conceal from the eye the beauty of a Southern sun- 
 set. 
 
 William stood by the side of one of the wagons 
 and began to think whether, at last, Providence had 
 not heard his prayers. But where was Lillie ? When 
 would he come, and how long would he be left free, 
 at least free from his manacles ? 
 
 While thus meditating, his attention was attracted 
 by a woman who stepped out of the wagon and beck- 
 oned to him. She was a frightful-looking creature, 
 black as a coal, with bleared eyes, long, skinny hands, 
 pinched features, and her head encased in a fiery red 
 
WILLIAM'S STRIKE FOR FREEDOM. 247 
 
 bandanna handkerchief, but she was perfectly upright 
 in form and very tall. 
 
 He did not approach her, but she came to him and 
 said abruptly : 
 
 " Wah you from ? " 
 
 William told her without hesitating. 
 
 'I'se from dis bery place wah we am now," said 
 the woman, as she looked in the direction of the dri- 
 vers. Drawing close to him, she hissed into his ear : 
 
 " You'se a fool." 
 
 " What you mean ?" said William, drawing back 
 from her suddenly. 
 
 "What I mean?" she said, and ejaculated " Umph!" 
 
 As she gave utterance to this sound, she displayed 
 all of her teeth. Pointing in the direction of the dri- 
 vers, who had now fallen into a drunken sleep, she 
 continued. 
 
 " See dem ? Go, leab ; take de wings ob de mornin', 
 and fly to freedom. What you stay har for? You 
 want to go Souf wah you never git back ? Take to 
 de mountains yonder; day can't git dogs, nobody 
 knows dem har ; besides, dey ain't got time to hunt 
 you noways." 
 
 William realized the force of the woman's logic, 
 but he did not understand her interest in him, so he 
 said, with an incredulous air: 
 
 " But Mars Lillie, whar is he ? Suppose he'd ketch 
 me?" 
 
 u Mars Lillie won't be har to-night ; and if he does 
 cotch you, you won't be sold no furder Soul Didn't I 
 
248 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 hear you talkin' in yo' sleep 'bout yo' wife and 
 child ? Fool, would you stay har when you kin go 
 take to de mountains ? I tells you trust to de Lord, 
 He'll guide you. Go, I tell you, for Judah she's go- 
 in' now," and her eyes gleamed for a moment, her 
 teeth glistened, and she glided noiselessly into the fast- 
 gathering gloom. 
 
 William stood almost transfixed. He aroused 
 himself from his lethargy. Glancing in the direction 
 of the drivers, he surmised from their heavy and ir- 
 regular breathing that they were sleeping soundly. 
 But another difficulty confronted him. All of the 
 men over whom he had charge were within sight, and 
 he feared that to start with their knowledge would 
 lead to immediate betrayal. They must be misled. 
 Walking over to them, William said: 
 
 "Boys, how is you resting?" 
 
 They informed him that they were resting as com- 
 fortably as possible under the circumstances. 
 
 " I wish," said William, " that I could relieb you. 
 I'se goin' down the road a piece to see what I can find 
 to eat. If I git somethin' good, we'll all have a treat. 
 Keep quiet, and don't waken the bosses." 
 
 William had touched them in a tender place, and 
 a promise of something good to eat bought a silence 
 that nothing else could have done. Half starved and 
 greatly fatigued, it will not be wondered at that they 
 bade him God-speed, with pleadings to hurry back. 
 He would have set them all at liberty had he dared, 
 but he feared for his own safety as well as theirs. 
 
WILLIAM'S STRIKE FOR FREEDOM. 249 
 
 Giving them a parting look, lie leaped the fence nim- 
 bly, and was soon lost to sight in the darkness. He 
 made at once for the mountains as fast as his legs 
 would carry him. 
 
 It was a very unusual thing for Jasson Lillie to do 
 anything indiscreet ; he was a cool-headed, calculat- 
 ing, business-like "nigger-trader." As we have said, 
 time was money with him, and money was his god. 
 It did not matter to him how he secured it, so that he 
 got it. Speculation was his stronghold, and he would 
 invest wherever he thought there was a reasonable 
 chance to win. With his herd of negroes safely 
 quartered within the hospitable walls of a prison, 
 there was no thought to disturb his prosaic mind, as 
 he took a friendly hand in a game of draw-poker 
 with a number of gentlemen of his profession, at the 
 tavern where he stopped. The game grew interest- 
 ing, especially to Lillie, as he was playing a winning 
 hand. The hours of the night passed away rapidly, 
 and when the morning approached, it. found him still 
 at the card-table. Knowing , that his trusty drivers 
 would proceed on their journey, he continued to play 
 until he had successfully broken every one around the 
 table. 
 
 Now a man may hate to lose time, and he may have 
 a great love for money ; but there are certain laws of 
 nature which are inexorable, and when they lay hold 
 of a victim, he must submit. Lillie had been riding 
 all day, had sat at the card-table all night, and, in the 
 meantime, had absorbed no small quantity of alco- 
 
250 BOND AND FKEE. 
 
 bolic spirits. He had been buoyed up bj his good 
 luck and the feeling that he was not only making 
 money, but was losing no time. But when he at- 
 tempted to start to overtake his cavalcade, he dis- 
 covered that nature was calling upon him strongly for 
 repose. He submitted, but with his boots on. He 
 reasoned that he could take a few hours' rest, and, 
 with the horse he had, soon overcome the distance 
 they might have gained upon him, believing, also, 
 that their progress would be somewhat retarded by 
 his absence. 
 
 Leaving orders to be called in an hour or two, 
 Lillie threw himself upon a bed and slept soundly. 
 By some means, the landlord neglected to call him, 
 and when he awoke, the sun was slowly hiding itself 
 behind the western hills. Springing to his feet, he 
 rubbed his eyes and rushed into the bar-room, which 
 answered, also, as an office ; and, after arraigning the 
 landlord in a choice selection of adjectives for his 
 neglect, ordered his horse, and set out to overtake 
 his party. He rode with desperation for several miles, 
 until the trees, hedges, and fences by the road side 
 could not be discerned, owing to the deep gloom which 
 overspread everything. The moon was was at times 
 obscured. Occasionally it would come forth, for a very 
 short time, from behind a great mass of clouds, and 
 relieve the inky darkness in which everything was 
 enveloped. He was familiar with the road, but the 
 darkness compelled him to slacken his speed and 
 keep a sharp look-out for the camp, which, as he 
 
WILLIAM'S STRIKE FOR FREEDOM. 251 
 
 rightly concluded, owing to his absence, would be 
 pitched in some field. He rode thus for several 
 hours, his eyes wandering alternately from one side 
 of the road to the other. His horse was jogging 
 along at a gentle pace, when suddenly there emerged 
 from a piece of woods which skirted the road the 
 tall form of a woman. She crossed the road directly 
 in front of the horse, and waved before his eyes a 
 large, black cloak. Lillie had not seen this seeming 
 apparition in his path, but when his horse reared upon 
 his hind legs, neighing and snorting fiercely, he then 
 caught a glimpse of a figure with gleaming eyes and 
 glittering teeth, standing directly ahead in the dark- 
 ness. 
 
 The sudden and wild plunging of the frightened 
 horse taxed him to keep his seat, though an excel- 
 lent horseman. He was overcome with fright him- 
 self, and, as the animal made a sudden wheel, he lost 
 his balance and fell from the saddle^ his spur catch- 
 ing in the stirrup. The horse now started off at a 
 break-neck speed, dragging the body of his unfortu- 
 nate master over the road to a terrible death. The 
 mangled form of Jasson Lillie was found by the road- 
 side the following day, stiff and stark in death. 
 
 The woman who had been the cause of this terri- 
 ble catastrophe was no less a person than Judah, who 
 had induced William to take his flight. After leav- 
 ing him, she, by a circuitous route, reached the road, 
 and traveled in the same direction whence they came. 
 She had been raised in the neighborhood, but taken 
 
252 BOND AXD FEEE. 
 
 into the northern part of the State as the property of 
 her young master, who had been married, thus causing 
 her removal. Becoming uncontrollable, she was sold 
 to the traders, and was being taken South with the 
 balance of Lillie's herd. 
 
 Her intention was to run away when she left Wil 
 Ham ; but in order to avoid possible pursuit and cap- 
 ture, she determined to lie in wait for Lillie. Believ- 
 ing that he would be upon the road, and that if she 
 waylaid him and frightened his horse, he, probably 
 giving up to the superstitious fears usually held by 
 men like him, would not make an effort to travel any 
 farther that night, but would retrace his steps to the 
 nearest hospitable roof. How well she succeeded, and 
 the terrible consequence of her success, we know, 
 
 William put a great many miles between himself 
 and his unsolicited companions before daylight. Con- 
 cealing himself in a dense thicket of underbrush, 
 sleep came unbidden to his wearied eyes. The sun 
 was high in the heavens when he awoke, and the ex- 
 cessive strain upon his system began to tell. His 
 limbs were sore and stiff, his feet swollen, and hun- 
 ger and thirst had besieged him. He dare not move 
 from his place of concealment until after night, and 
 the pain and agony he suffered in those few hours 
 can hardly be described. Those hours were days to 
 him, and when night came at last, and shed its kindly 
 folds over the heavens, he dragged his pain-racked 
 and exhausted body to an open space carpeted with 
 soft, green turf. He looked about, undecided in 
 
WILLIAM'S STRIKE FOR FREEDOM. 253 
 
 what direction to go. Food and drink were the first 
 things to be obtained, but where was he to find them? 
 In a strange country, not familiar with an inch of 
 the ground, foot-sore and wearied, what should he 
 do? Crawling upon his hands and knees for some 
 distance, he heard voices, which appeared to come 
 from a piece of woods directly in front of him. Ele- 
 vating his body, he discerned a dim light shining 
 through the trees ; the strains of music struck his 
 ear; the merry laugh of a party of night revelers 
 was heard, and he judged that they were slaves en- 
 joying themselves in one of the many cabins in which 
 the country abounded. Creeping nearer, he could 
 hear them singing and dancing to the time of the 
 music ; the clapping of hands and shuffling of feet 
 left no doubt in his mind as to the character of the 
 people. A song with the following lines was being 
 loudly sung, while the dancers appeared to be trying 
 their utmost to break through the floor : 
 
 " Hannah, walk out in de flor ; 
 
 Wake up, Miss Liza. 
 
 Dance it like you did befor ; 
 
 Wake up, Miss Liza. 
 
 " Watch her cut de pigeon-wing ; 
 
 Wake up, Miss Liza . 
 All you darkeys shout and sing ; 
 Wake up. Miss Liza. 
 
 " Gents to de right and ladies to de left ; 
 
 Wake up, Miss Liza. 
 Everybody do thar best; 
 Wake up, Miss Liza." 
 
254 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 They continued in this strain for some time, com- 
 posing line after line as they danced, until every one 
 seemed exhausted. William determined to apply to 
 the occupants for assistance, feeling sure that they 
 would not betray or refuse him. Dragging his body 
 to the door, he rapped softly. In a twinkling, the 
 light went out, and there was a rush made by those 
 inside for the only other exit, the window. He at 
 once surmised that the inmates of the cabin thought 
 they were about to be assailed by the patrol, and 
 cried out : 
 
 "Friends, friends, it's only a poor runaway." 
 
 A nappy head was poked around the corner of the 
 house, and, seeing but a single man at the door, it 
 was followed by the burly form of a coal-black man, 
 who approached the crouching form of William and 
 said: 
 
 " Look har, stranger, you come mighty near being 
 squashed, does you know it ? What you doing har ? " 
 
 By this time, the door was opened and a light 
 made, and the frightened revelers were summoned 
 back. William aroused much sympathy by the 
 earnestness with which he appealed to them for food 
 and shelter. The man who had 'first addressed him 
 said : 
 
 " Wai, brudder, dis am a little dangerous procality 
 fur you. We can gib you somethin' to eat, but you'd 
 better take to de mountiris at once, or de traders 
 might kotch you agin." 
 
 William entered the cabin, notwithstanding this 
 
WILLIAM'S STRIKE FOR FREEDOM 255 
 
 piece of advice, and seated himself in a corner, when 
 plenty of food was given him. The singing and 
 dancing was resumed again as boisterously as before. 
 
 It was a curious assembly he looked upon, but like 
 many he had seen before. The women were dressed 
 in fantastic costumes; bare black feet peeped out 
 from beneath silk skirts, and many of them had their 
 heads encased in bandana handkerchiefs. The men 
 wore swallow- tailed and very long frock coats. 
 Several of them were coatless, vestless, and shoeless ; 
 their enjoyments, however, were simple, pure, and 
 extremely vigorous, every one being bent upon 
 pleasure, and utterly regardless of the hard day's 
 labor in the fields that awaited them the following 
 day. 
 
 Having finished the meal set before him, and stow- 
 ing away in his bosom the remnants, William was 
 directed to the mountains. Bidding his entertain- 
 ers farewell, he started northward, taking for his bea- 
 con light that luminary which has been the guide to 
 many a runaway the north star. Gruided by this 
 silent conductor, and shielded by the friendly con- 
 fines of the Blue Ridge mountains, he proceeded on 
 his way. His progress was slow, owing to his crip- 
 pled condition, but, fired with the desire to gain free- 
 dom, everything else seemed subordinated to this 
 thought The food with which he had provided him- 
 self had become exhausted, and he feared to leave the 
 mountain to search for more ; and for several days, un- 
 til he had passed through Maryland and entered Penn- 
 
256 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 sylvania, he subsisted almost entirely upon nuts, 
 herbs, berries, and such things as he found in the 
 mountains. 
 
 He entered Pennsylvania, although unaware of the 
 fact, but, as if by instinct, he felt that he was out of 
 the slave States ; and as he lay concealed during the 
 day, the soil appeared different, the foliage seemed 
 brighter, the song of the birds was more joyous, and 
 everything appeared changed. It was, indeed, a 
 grand transformation scene, and he enjoyed it im- 
 measurably. He could not sleep or keep quiet, so 
 anxious was he to learn where he was. Giving away 
 to his desires, he crept from his concealment, and 
 sought for some place where he could obtain infor- 
 mation. As he was surrounded by so much uncer- 
 tainty, caution was necessarily required, and his move- 
 ments were attended with the greatest precaution. 
 He had not proceeded far when, almost directly above 
 him, projecting out upon the ledge of a rocky foun- 
 dation, was one of those Dutch cabins peculiar to 
 Pennsylvania. Two or three children played in 
 dangerous proximity to the brink of the rock, while 
 a buxom female was busily engaged in baking bread 
 in an old Dutch oven. The smell of the fresh baked 
 bread caused William, for a time, to forget that he 
 was a fugitive, and, clambering the rocky incline, he 
 walked boldly toward the woman. 
 
 Noticing his approach, she showed no fear, but 
 saluted him cordially, rightly concluding that he was 
 a runaway. She scanned him closely for a moment 
 
WILLIAM'S STRIKE FOR FREEDOM. 257 
 
 before asking him from where he was, first apparently 
 satisfying herself as to her conjecture. When she in- 
 quired of him, he hardly knew how to answer, for, 
 to tell the truth, he did not really know where he 
 was from. Notwithstanding the woman was of his 
 own race, he feared to let her know that he was a 
 runaway, so, evading the question, he said : 
 
 " I hab lost my way, and am awful hungry. Would 
 you gib me somethin' to eat, and tell me whar to find 
 the turnpike ? " 
 
 The woman did not press her question, but invited 
 him into the house. Having seated him at the table, 
 she gave him a bountiful supply of food, to which he 
 did ample justice. While he was engaged at eating, 
 the woman said : 
 
 u You'se a runaway, ain't you? " 
 
 William pretended not to hear her. 
 
 " If you is," she continued, " my husband kin show 
 you just whar to go to strike de road for Canada." 
 
 He looked up at the woman, and inquired : 
 " Whar's your husband ? " 
 
 ''He'll be here presently," she replied. "Just 
 make yoself at home, chile, cause I know from yo' 
 looks you'se tired, and mighty nigh worn out" 
 
 The woman's apparent kindness disarmed him of 
 all suspicion, and he confidingly told her of his es- 
 cape, and the privations he had suffered in reaching 
 the present point ; he also told her of his desire to 
 reach Canada to find his wife and child, whom, he 
 believed, had gone before him. The woman was at- 
 
 1T 
 
258 BOND AND FKEE. 
 
 tentively listening to William's narrative, when a man 
 entered the door. He was a powerfully built specimen 
 of humanity, of a mulatto complexion, straight, black 
 hair, low, receding forehead, eyes of a grayish cast, 
 a wide mouth, drawn down at the corners, as though al- 
 ways sneering, and exposing to view two very large 
 teeth. When William heard footsteps, he looked 
 around. He was not pleased with the appearance of 
 the man who stood between him and the door, with 
 anything but welcome depicted upon his countenance. 
 
 William spoke, and the woman said : ' k Dis is my 
 husband." Turning to the man, she continued : 
 " Hawkins, dis man is on de road to Canada, and I 
 told him dat you was just de one to guide him." 
 
 " That's right," said the man, who appeared to be 
 possessed of more than the average intelligence of 
 his race. "I have been in these mountains many a 
 day, and showed many a man and woman the road 
 to freedom. Where you from? " he said, addressing 
 William. 
 
 He had confided in the woman, but did not care 
 to enlighten the man. However, he could see no 
 other alternative, and told him that he had run away 
 from the traders, and where he had left them. The 
 man looked greatly surprised when William told him 
 where he was from. Uttering a long, low whistle, 
 he said : 
 
 "Why, man, you're many a mile from that place; 
 you're now in Pennsylvania, and I guess they have 
 given up looking for you by this time. I'll help 
 
WILLIAM'S STRIKE FOR FREEDOM. 259 
 
 you to get to Canada; it's only a few miles from here 
 to the turnpike, and to-night I'll put you on the 
 road. You stay here until I return, and then we'll 
 start. Miama," he said, addressing his wife, "give 
 this poor man a pair of old shoes ; he is almost bare- 
 footed." 
 
 With this instruction, he left the house before 
 William could return thanks for his apparent kind- 
 ness. The woman procured a pair of shoes, which 
 were, indeed, acceptable to him, although they fitted 
 him rather loosely. Having been frequently informed 
 that there were a great many betrayers of fugitives 
 among his own race, William did not trust Hawkins 
 implicitly. Why had he gone away why did he 
 want him to await his return ? If the man was in- 
 terested in his escape, surely he would not have left 
 him without giving some reason. Had he gone to 
 procure assistance to capture him, or had he gone for 
 a team to' drive to the turnpike? Perhaps his wife 
 could throw some light upon this. The hearty meal 
 he had eaten gave him renewed vigor, and he felt like 
 a new man. Knowing that he was now in a free State, 
 he determined never to return South as a bondman. 
 The woman was busily engaged preparing the chil- 
 dren for bed. He said, addressing her rather abruptly: 
 
 '' Whar's yo' husband gone? " 
 
 "I don't know, chile, but he'll be back soon." 
 
 il Many folks lib 'bout here ? " asked William. 
 
 " Not many bar in de mountain, but dar's a village 
 
260 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 'bout free miles from har, and you hab to pass fru 
 dat on de way to de pike," was the woman's reply. 
 
 "Am thar any danger in that? " 
 
 " No," said the woman ; " not if you goes with 
 Hawkins, 'cause all de white folks knows him, and 
 dey kinder 'spects him." 
 
 Now, William quickly concluded that if Hawkins 
 was a betrayer, his wife did not know it ; and he was 
 right. When the man Hawkins left William, he 
 went directly to the village, and informed several 
 white men that there was a runaway at his house ; 
 that he was going to bring him through the village 
 at a certain hour, and they were to make a pretended 
 attack, when he would have the man under the in- 
 fluence of liquor, and he could be easily captured. 
 Hawkins then procured some liquor, and returned 
 home, where he found William awaiting him. 
 
 "Now, young man," he said, "git ready, and we'll 
 start ; but before we go, you want some of this to 
 brace your nerves," and he produced the bottle of 
 liquor. William waved his hand, saying: 
 
 " No, sar ; none of that stuff for me. My nerbes 
 will stand braced if this am clear," and he tapped his 
 head with his finger. 
 
 "You see," said Hawkins, "we've got to pass 
 through the village down here, and there's alwa}^s 
 lots of loafers about, and they might attack us ; so 
 you had better take a little." Turning the bottle up 
 to his mouth, he took a long draught. Again offer- 
 
WILLIAM'S STRIKE FOR FREEDOM. 261 
 
 ing it to William, " Better take some," tie said, with 
 a grin. 
 
 " No," said William, " I don't want it. If I'se got 
 to fight, that won't gib me strength, for that not only 
 steals away the strength, but the senses ; and if goin' 
 fru that village am the only road to Canada, then I'se 
 goin' fru it by the aid of God and these," and he 
 held out his horny hands. 
 
 "That's what I like to see," replied Hawkins 
 "pluck. Come on now, let's go." 
 
 They left the house and plunged into the woods, 
 William insisting on Hawkins walking in front 
 When they had gotten some distance, he turned to 
 William, and inquired if he had any fire-arms. 
 
 "No," was the reply. 
 
 " Then I have some for you." He walked a short 
 distance ahead to a tree, and, from among some brush, 
 drew forth two pistols, and handed one to William, 
 saying, as he did so : " Now defend yourself. " 
 
 "I'll do that," answered William; " but does this 
 thing go off?" 
 
 " Of course it does ; but put it in your pocket, and 
 don't use it if you can help it." 
 
 William obeyed, and thought to himself " He don't 
 know I am ten men now in place of one." Hawkins, 
 when he handed him the pistol, did not intend to 
 give him a loaded one, but he did. The pistol he 
 kept for himself was empty, a fact he did not discover 
 for some time after. When they were pretty close to 
 the village, William halted and said : 
 
262 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 " See bar, my friend, can't we git round this town ?" 
 
 " We can," said Hawkins, " but it's too far." 
 
 " Oh, neber mind that. I don't car for the distance. 
 You needn't go ; just tell me. I don't car 'bout goin' 
 fru that town, sumthin' tells me thar's trouble ahead, 
 and trouble ain't what I'se on the sarch fur." 
 
 " We'll get through all right ; don't be afraid. 
 Come on," and Hawkins started off. 
 
 " Hold on thar," said William. i; Stranger, you'se 
 been mighty accommodatin', but I won't trouble you 
 fudder. S'pose you return home and let me git 
 round the town alone." 
 
 " Oh, no. That won't do," said Hawkins, shaking 
 his head, and beginning to fear that William sus- 
 pected him. "You don't think I'd fool you, do 
 you?" 
 
 " Wall, to tell the truf, that's just what I think," 
 was the laconic reply. 
 
 " You do, hey ? Then I arrest you as a runaway," 
 and as Hawkins said this, he attempted to draw his 
 pistol, but William was too quick for him. Draw- 
 ing his quickly, he said : 
 
 11 No foolin' wid that thing, stranger. Don't draw 
 it, or this will go off." 
 
 Hawkins laughed loudly, and replied : 
 
 "Why, you fool, that thing ain't loaded." 
 
 They were now standing face to face, and Wil- 
 liam began to back away. Hawkins called upon him 
 to halt, but he only laughed contemptuously. 
 
 " Stand, I tell you," said Hawkins. William con- 
 
WILLIAM'S STRIKE FOR FREEDOM. 263 
 
 tinued to move; Hawkins now advanced upon him, 
 drawing bis pistol quickly, he leveled it and pulled 
 the trigger, but it only snapped. William snapped 
 his almost at the same instant, but with s very differ- 
 ent result. ' A report rang out upon the night air, a 
 curse and a groan escaped from the lips of Hawkins, 
 and he sank upon the ground. Not waiting to see 
 what damage he had done, he made for the woods, 
 and traveled the balance of the night, never stopping 
 for a moment, until broad daylight the next day. 
 Hawkins was slightly wounded, but so much so that 
 it was some time before he reached the village too 
 late, however, to organize a searching party. 
 
 Like most fugitives, William feared recapture ; but 
 knowing that he was in a free State, he determined 
 to seek aid in reaching his family. He had safely 
 eluded Hawkins and his colleagues, but he realized 
 that he must find some one that he could trust. He 
 had successfully procured food by making nocturnal 
 visits to spring-houses as he traveled through the 
 country, but he now determined to enter a town, 
 change his name, seek employment, obtain whatever 
 information he could, and, if possible, earn sufficient 
 means to aid him in his search for his wife and child. 
 He did not know what distance he had to travel to 
 reach Canada. Whether it was a hundred or a thou- 
 sand miles was a problem that he was unable to 
 solve, but that such a place existed he knew, and that 
 somewhere within the land he would find his family. 
 This he confidently and emphatically believed. 
 
264 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 He crossed the Susquehanna river and entered the 
 city of H , where he found employment in a pri- 
 vate family as coachman. He had not been long 
 employed there when he heard of the Fugitive Slave 
 Law. This caused him to become restless, and, as he 
 had confided the fact of his being a fugitive to his 
 employer and some of his own people, he feared be- 
 trayal. Not knowing of the tragic death of Lillie, he 
 believed that he would be, and doubtless had been, 
 pursued, and he was not surprised when his employer 
 approached him and told him that it was too danger- 
 ous for him to keep him longer employed, as the 
 Fugitive Slave Law subjected every white man to a 
 heavy fine and lengthy imprisonment for harboring 
 a fugitive. 
 
 He had also learned that several men about the 
 town, black and white, drove a profitable business in 
 kidnapping and betraying slaves. It mattered but 
 little whether a white man really owned a black man 
 or not; if he swore that he was his property, and the 
 black man could not prove he was not, he was given 
 up by the courts to the alleged master, and returned 
 South. The imminent danger he was in was aug- 
 mented when a deliberate attempt was made to kid- 
 nap and convey him South. 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 UNITED IN FREEDOM. 
 
 The country was full of men who accepted the pro- 
 visions of the Fugitive Slave Act as a means by which 
 to obtain a precarious living, by taking advantage of 
 its defects. The bitter prejudice existing against the 
 negro in every section of the country aided by a pos- 
 sible pecuniary gain, was, in all probability, sufficient 
 inducement for many white men to engage in the ne- 
 farious business of "nigger-catching" and kidnapping. 
 But just what would induce a man of the oppressed 
 race to turn traitor against his brother, and engage in 
 such disreputable business, would be hard to tell, un- 
 less it were due to his being so morally depraved as 
 to lose all sense of the ties of kindred feeling and 
 sympath}'. Let it be from whatever cause it may, 
 there were men of the negro race who actively en- 
 gaged in the business of betraying and kidnapping 
 their unfortunate brethren. 
 
 The place where William now sought refuge con- 
 tained a number of these characters, the most promi- 
 nent among them being a Jefferson Coleman. Cole- 
 man was the son of slave parents who had purchased 
 their freedom and moved North, where he was born. 
 He was given a common education under the disad- 
 vantages that people of the race secured any learn- 
 
 [265] 
 
266 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 ing whatever ; but, upon entering into manhood, he 
 showed no disposition to improve upon the few ad- 
 vantages he had. He migrated from place to place, 
 earning a livelihood at whatever employment he could 
 find to do, until we find him located in the city of 
 
 H , where he had resided some five or eight 
 
 years, long enough to be well known as a ne'er-do- 
 well, and to gain a reputation for engaging in ques- 
 tionable transactions. Coleman had reached a point 
 when the conscience becomes so hardened as to make 
 one a fitting tool for the carrying out of the deepest 
 villainy that man can engage in. Being a dissolute 
 and reckless person, he fell a ready victim to the de- 
 signs of the "nigger-catchers." After having en- 
 gaged in the business as a tool for other men, he be- 
 came far more dangerous when he took up the dual 
 part of betrayer and kidnapper. 
 
 Many were the poor souls whose freedom was sac- 
 rificed by this man. It was an easy matter for him to 
 obtain the confidence of persons engaged in the Under- 
 ground Railroad, and, by this means, instigate the 
 capture of whole families. He was a man of rather 
 pleasing address, his complexion a bright mulatto, 
 hair as black as a raven, slightly inclined to curl. 
 His mouth was rather large, while his lips were more 
 like those of the Anglo-Saxon than the African. He 
 had been made to swallow two of his front teeth by 
 a fugitive slave, whom he had attacked and unsuc- 
 cessfully attempted to capture. This loss of teeth 
 disfigured his mouth, and, when he smiled, rather 
 
UNITED IN FREEDOM. 267 
 
 spoiled his otherwise pleasing appearance. A close 
 observer could discern traces of dissipation, which 
 would have shown more clearly upon a man of a 
 less vigorous constitution. Colernan was ever on the 
 alert, and from the time he first discovered William, 
 he selected him as a victim. Notwithstanding the 
 many warnings he had received to beware of traitors, 
 William was too credulous and fell easily into the 
 net which Coleman laid for him. 
 
 When informed by his employer that he must find 
 another place, he did not seek immediate employ- 
 ment, but took quarters with a family on the out- 
 skirts of the town. He would have gone away at 
 once, but he somehow suspected that he was watched, 
 and he felt that to start, depending upon his own 
 efforts, would be dangerous. He was awaiting an 
 opportunity to find trusty friends to whom he could 
 appeal for aid, when a bold attempt was made by 
 Coleman, -assisted by confederates, to capture him. 
 Luckily, however, for him, unexpected assistance 
 prevented his capture and aided him in getting away. 
 
 There have been many persons who have sacrificed 
 everything, except their lives, to rescue and aid fugi- 
 tive slaves. Many a band of noble-hearted men, of 
 both races, was formed in secret, working assiduously 
 in the cause of freedom ; and their deeds, while, per- 
 haps, as noble as those of a Garrison or a Phillips, re- 
 main unknown to the world. In nearly every State in 
 the North, could be found a few of these people, and, 
 though their deeds remain unsung, the prayers of a 
 
268 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 grateful race have been, are now, and ever will be 
 sent heavenward that they may enjoy the rich reward 
 merited. - 
 
 So many fugitives had been attacked, imprisoned, 
 kidnapped, and returned South from the town of 
 
 H that a few noble-hearted negro men banded 
 
 together and vowed to protect, at the cost of their 
 lives, their brethren in their efforts to obtain free- 
 dom. A large amount of money was subscribed to 
 carry their determination out, and they fought the 
 Southern slave-hunters in the courts, in the prisons, 
 and on the highways. The bloody work done by 
 these organizations, in defense of freedom, will never 
 be known until judgment-day. Many a kidnapper 
 and betrayer was beaten and driven out of the neigh- 
 borhood by this little band of heroes. 
 
 Yet, in their midst, this man, Coleman, existed, 
 and fearlessly carried on his nefarious business. It 
 was often wondered why he did not suffer the pen- 
 alty others had, but for some reason, he never met 
 the fate he so richly deserved. Coleman learned 
 where William was quartered ; he had found a man 
 ready to claim him as his property, and he deter- 
 mined, after fixing the sum he was to receive, to en- 
 tice William into some place and capture him. If 
 this failed, then an effort would be made to imprison 
 him and use the courts, and make him prove himself 
 a freeman, the latter a difficult thing to do, consider- 
 ing how far a negro's word went against a white man's. 
 
 William had now discreetly assumed another 
 
UNITED IN FREEDOM. 269 
 
 name. Passing along the street shortly after leaving 
 his recent employer, he heard his assumed name 
 called. Upon looking around, he beheld Coleman 
 approaching him. He had no suspicion of the man, 
 as his attention had never been called particularly 
 to him. He stopped, and Coleman advanced, extend- 
 ing his hand. William grasped it, as the fellow said : 
 
 " I hear that you are left out of work ; are you 
 looking for a job ? " 
 
 "No," replied William, "but I might take one if 
 I could git it" 
 
 " Then you are the very man I'm looking for. I 
 will be to see you to-night, and take you to a man 
 who will hire you and pay you good wages. Will 
 you go?" 
 
 "I won't promise," said William, "but you kin 
 come, and I'll see the man. What's. he want me for ? " 
 
 "I couldn't just say what he wants you to do, but 
 I think he wants a man-servant about his house ; and 
 now that I see you, I think that you would just suit 
 him. What time will you be home?" 
 
 "Oh, I'se at home most any time ; but," said Wil- 
 liam, thoughtfully, " I guess you doesn't need to bring 
 him to see me ; tell me whar to find him, and I'll go 
 see him to-morrow." 
 
 "That would be a difficult thing to do," lisped 
 Coleman, "because he's scarcely ever home in the 
 day. Suppose I see him and come up to-night and 
 let you know when you can call upon him ?" 
 
270 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 " That's it zactiy, for I'd rather go see him." At 
 this they shook hands and separated. 
 
 William had no suspicion about Coleman, until 
 the suggestion was made to bring along a white man, 
 then he grew suspicious. He did not want the man 
 to discover that he suspected him, and as he had 
 already consented to a meeting, he would not with- 
 draw his consent. He did not know but that the 
 man whom Coleman proposed to meet was a Southern 
 slave-owner, who, perhaps, might attempt to claim him. 
 Though the man might really mean to obtain for him 
 a situation ; and if so, his suspicions were groundless. 
 He concluded to say nothing to any one, but wended 
 his way homeward. 
 
 William had been advised by friends to be cau- 
 tious, as he was in danger of being arrested at any 
 moment. It was pretty generally known that he 
 was a fugitive ; and to be a fugitive, at that time and 
 in that place, was to be constantly menaced with dan- 
 ger. He had also been advised to leave the place. 
 
 The people with whom he stopped were very kind 
 to him and manifested great interest in him. Martin 
 Derry, the head of the house, was one of the most 
 rabid haters of the institution of slavery. He had 
 never suffered any of its evils, having been born in 
 the North and always free, but his sympathy for his 
 suffering brethren took shape in active measures to 
 aid them to escape wherever and whenever he could. 
 His house had been an asylum for many a fugitive, 
 and his strong arm had barred the door against the 
 
UNITED IN FREEDOM. 271 
 
 intrusion of more than one slave-hunter ; he was fore- 
 most among the little band of men who fought so 
 nobly against these Southern intruders. The prison 
 had stared him in the face more than once for his ac- 
 tivity in behalf of fleeing slaves ; but he never allowed 
 his vigilance to relax or his interest to wane. He 
 had sacrificed money, time, and blood, and his zeal 
 was still unabated. 
 
 Upon entering the house, William found Mr. Derry 
 engaged in conversation with some friends. It 
 was just about twilight; the western sky was em- 
 blazoned in a bright, crimson tint, and, rising as if 
 from her bed, the moon could be seen peeping above 
 the eastern horizon. As he entered the room, Mr. 
 Derry arose and introduced him to his friends, then 
 offering him a chair, he said : 
 
 " I am glad you have come ; we were just talking 
 about you, and we have a proposition to make. The 
 town is full of slave-hunters, and they are in search 
 of some people whom we have concealed. Several 
 houses have been searched, and some captures made. 
 The parties we have in charge leave here to-night by 
 the Underground Railroad, and, as you believe your 
 wife and child are in Canada, now is your chance 
 to go and find them." 
 
 One of the other men said : " Yes, they have got 
 some people in jail, but they will never take them 
 from this town, not if we can prevent them. There 
 will be some bloody work before morning ; won't 
 there, Derry ? " 
 
272 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 " There will, indeed ! " replied Mr. Deny. " Now, 
 sir," turning to William, " will you take passage to- 
 night ? " 
 
 " You'se very kind,'' answered William, greatly 
 moved ; "I does so want to see my wife and chile, 
 but but " 
 
 " But what ? " asked Deny. 
 
 "But I ain't got nuf money, and I thought to go to 
 work 'til I got more," said the man. 
 
 " Now look here, young man," said Mr. Derry, with 
 a patronizing air, " don't you think about fool in' 
 around here to get money. If you do, you'll be put 
 where you won't need any. You can do as you please, 
 but I advise you to take advantage of present oppor- 
 tunities and leave." 
 
 If William had any intention of disregarding this 
 advice, the events of the next hour gave him the 
 highest estimation of its utility. 
 
 It was as Derry had stated ; the town was overrun 
 with slave-hunters. They had assumed every privi- 
 lege guaranteed them by the law, and had rushed to 
 the Northern States looking for their lost property, 
 and wherever finding it, made claim. Eeturning 
 South, they took, in many instances, that which was 
 not theirs as well as that which was. The houses of 
 people were ruthlessly invaded and searched from 
 garret to cellar, and wherever a fugitive was con- 
 cealed and found, the rightful occupants were made 
 to suffer the full penalty of the law. 
 
 A prominent citizen, who had in his employ two 
 
UNITED IN FREEDOM. 273 
 
 negro women, left his home one evening, when his 
 wife was surprised by the appearance of two burly 
 Southerners, accompanied by Coleman, in search of 
 the women. She begged them to call upon her hus- 
 band's return, and assured them that no women bear* 
 ing the names they inquired for were in her employ 
 This was true as to the names, but the women were 
 then in the house. After much persuasion, they left. 
 One of the women then took her flight, while the 
 other was concealed by the sons of the lady in a 
 large cask in the cellar, several tons of coal being 
 thrown over her. Upon the return of the husband, 
 he was informed that the slave-hunters had come to 
 search the house. Being in a prominent position in 
 the party which supported the Fugitive Slave Law, 
 he was greatly in fear of exposure, and wanted to 
 give the poor fugitive up. His wife and children 
 assured him there was no danger, and he finally suc- 
 cumbed. - 
 
 True to their duty, the slave-hunters called next 
 day and searched the house from garret to cellar, 
 tramping several times upon the very coal pile where 
 the woman was concealed. Their search was unsuc- 
 cessful, and they left without even so much as apol- 
 ogizing for the annoyance they had caused. The 
 woman was conducted to a place of safety and placed 
 upon a boat by the kind-hearted sons of the lady, 
 thus making her escape. 
 
 It was now quite dark, and the men were still 
 sitting in the room. A large log burned slowly in 
 
 18 
 
274 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 the old-fashioned fireplace, now and then casting a 
 lurid gleam of light upon their dusky faces. They 
 were awaiting the hour that they were to meet their 
 comrades and lie in wait to recapture the party of 
 slaves who were to be taken South that night. Wil- 
 liam, notwithstanding his great desire to see his wife 
 and child, expressed a wish to accompany them. He 
 said : 
 
 "I 'spect I'll have to take that boat, as you gen- 
 tlemen disposes, but I'd like mighty well to have a 
 hand in this thing to-night." 
 
 "But," said Derry, "you can't go with us and take 
 the boat, too ; you must do one or the other; besides, 
 there would be too much risk in taking you along." 
 
 Derry had scarcely uttered these words, when a 
 rap was heard at the door. He opened it, and in 
 stepped Coleman. Now, here was a man of all others 
 that he hated the very sight of. That he was up to 
 some mischief, he was certain, and he was determined 
 to prevent his further entrance into the house ; there- 
 fore, when Coleman stepped in, he found himself 
 confronted by Derry, who checked his advance and 
 said rather imperatively : 
 
 "What do you want here ? Hadn't you better wait 
 until you're invited in ?" 
 
 "I was invited here to-day," said Coleman. "I 
 came to see the man that stops here with you." 
 
 "Well, you can't see him, for he ain't here," was 
 the reply. 
 
 "Ain't here ! That's strange," he said,. as he tried 
 
UNITED IN FREEDOM. 275 
 
 to peer, over Berry's shoulder into the darkness of 
 the inner room. 
 
 "Strange, but true," said Deny, not moving an 
 inch. 
 
 " Will he be back soon, do you think?" 
 
 " I don't think and I don't know when he will be 
 back. Look here, Jeff Coleman, what is your busi- 
 ness with that man ?" inquired Deny. And he tried 
 to push him toward the door. "Are you up to some 
 of your dirty tricks ?" 
 
 Coleman did not answer the last remark, but turn- 
 ing to go, he said : " I believe you are lying, Deny, 
 but I'll see him, for he promised to meet me, and I 
 believe he is in this house, too." 
 
 " You can believe whatever you please, you con- 
 temptible cur. If you call me a liar in my house 
 I'll break your neck," and as he said this, he as- 
 sisted Coleman off the door-step with the toe of his 
 boot. 
 
 Coleman did not say a word, but hastily disap- 
 peared. Deny returned to his companions and 
 asked William if he had made an appointment with 
 the man. He told them that he had, informing 
 them of the promised situation, and that he was to 
 go with Coleman to see a gentleman that night. 
 
 "Why didn't you tell me of that before?" said 
 Derry. "We shall have trouble now; they will 
 come here and search the house, and we must leave 
 at once." 
 
 Preparations were hastily made, and the men left 
 
276 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 the house together. They were well armed, and 
 every man was determined. William summoned all 
 of his courage and determined to make his last effort 
 for freedom. It was to be freedom or death. They 
 had proceeded but a short distance from the house 
 when they discovered that they were followed. Deny 
 was the first to notice a man dogging their foot steps, 
 and he called the attention of his companions to this 
 fact. They did not care so much about it. As they 
 were in a thickly-populated part of the town, they ap- 
 prehended no danger. Derry suggested that one of 
 them drop back as soon as they reached the far end of 
 the town and u do the spy up." The man delegated to 
 do this left the party upon reaching a corner, and by 
 doing some pretty good running, got around the 
 square, thus getting in the rear of the spy. He 
 slowly crept upon him unawares, and with a short 
 hickory club which he carried, struck the fellow a 
 stunning blow upon the head, felling him to the 
 ground insensible. The other men had no difficulty 
 in reaching the point they had in view. 
 
 When Coleman went to Derry's house for William, 
 a plot had been laid by which William was to be in- 
 duced to go to a certain place and there be captured 
 under pretense of being employed; but as Coleman 
 had been outwitted by Derry's denying that he was in 
 the house, he determined to capture William at all 
 events. When he left Derry's, he directed the man 
 who accompanied him, but whom Derry had not 
 seen, to keep a watch on the house; this is the fel- 
 
UNITED IN FREEDOM. 277 
 
 low who followed them. Coleman proceeded to the 
 town and procured the assistance of several slave- 
 hunters and loafers to return and search the house. 
 By the time he got his party together, the fellow with 
 the broken head had sought them out and informed 
 them of his misfortune. Coleman knew about where 
 to find them, and, followed by his colleagues, he 
 went almost directly to the place where Derry and 
 his friends were awaiting the arrival of another party. 
 
 The slave-hunters were allowed to approach the 
 door, which was opened by one of the party from 
 within. They stated that they were in search of 
 some escaped slaves and that they proposed to search 
 the house. To this, the man who had opened the 
 door objected, and stood there holding the door with 
 one hand and denying their entrance. Derry stepped 
 to the door, saying : 
 
 "Gentlemen, we don't know who you are in search 
 of, but there is no one here belonging to you , how- 
 ever, if you insist upon searching the premises, why, 
 we will come out and you can go in." As he finished 
 speaking, he stepped out of the door, followed by 
 William and the other men. They had not seen 
 Coleman, who now came forward, and, approaching 
 William, attempted to lay his hands upon him saying : 
 
 " You're the man we want." The words were 
 hardly out of his mouth before William struck him 
 fair between the eyes, and he fell to the ground as 
 though kicked by a mule. The Southerners now 
 made a rush for him, but he struck out right and 
 
278 BOXD AXD FEEE. 
 
 left, and men fell in all directions. As fast as Wil- 
 liam knocked them down, his friends proceeded to 
 club them, and did it so effectively that in a short 
 time there was not a man able to make the least ef- 
 fort toward capture. William went directly to the 
 boat, which was to take him farther on, and he was 
 safely stowed away in the hold. Coleman and his 
 companions made themselves scarce as quickly as 
 they recovered consciousness. The beating that they 
 received that night was long remembered by them. 
 
 The boat in which William was concealed landed 
 him at a point, whence he was conducted, on another 
 branch of the Underground Railroad, directly to 
 Canada. When his feet touched the, shores of that 
 land, he could hardly realize it. Joining hands 
 with those who were with him, with bended knees 
 and bowed head, he sent up thanks to Heaven for 
 his deliverance. Now that he was in a free land, 
 his first thought was of his wife and child. Were 
 they free ? or had he left slavery only to be disap- 
 pointed in not finding them ? He would not hesitate 
 to return, were he unsuccessful in his search for them. 
 He had but little idea of the extent of the country he 
 was in, nor did he fully realize how difficult it would 
 be for him to find them, but he determined to ex- 
 haust every effort. Poorly equipped as he was, un- 
 able to read, with no money, and in a strange land, 
 he set out upon a search for the wife and child, who, 
 for all he knew to the contrary, were, perhaps, still 
 
UNITED IN FREEDOM. 279 
 
 in slavery. Many were the sleepless nights and 
 weary hours he spent before finding them. 
 
 Purcey had now become pretty well acquainted 
 with the customs of the people. She had obtained 
 employment, and herself and child were comfortably 
 provided for. She sent communications throughout 
 the Dominion, which were read in the churches of her 
 people, making inquiries for William and stating 
 where she could be found. She never lost faith in 
 her belief that he would make his escape and come to 
 her. Aided by this confidence, she redoubled her 
 efforts to learn of him. 
 
 William sat one evening before a fire in a little log 
 hut, which he had selected as his abode, on the out- 
 skirts of a thriving little town. He had been meditat- 
 ing for some moments upon the advisability of chang- 
 ing his quarters. No place presented any attractions 
 to him as he traveled here and there in hope of find- 
 ing those whom he sought So short a time did he 
 remain at a place that it was almost impossible for 
 him to learn anything of importance. Entering a 
 town, he would make inquiry for his dear ones, and, 
 receiving no information, sick at heart, and almost 
 discouraged, he would proceed to the next town. He 
 had always been a constant attendant at church, and 
 he possessed much of that reverence and piety com- 
 mon to his race. He had great confidence in the Gos- 
 pel, and much veneration for the ministry. The 
 next day was Sunday, and he concluded that, per- 
 haps, his sad and heavy heart might be lightened by 
 
280 BOND AND FREE. 
 
 hearing a good sermon. The following day he at- 
 tended divine services in the little village, and after 
 the preacher had preached a fervid sermon, during 
 which there were many cries of u Amen !" and " Halle- 
 lujah !" and in which William joined heartily, he made 
 an announcement from the pulpit which caused Wil- 
 liam to leap up from his seat with joy. This was 
 the notice: 
 
 Any person who can give any information regarding Wil- 
 liam McCullar, of Co,, Va., owned by Jonathan Max- 
 well, will confer a blessing and everlasting favor upon his wife 
 
 and child, now residing in H . 
 
 Address, 
 
 PURCEY McCuLLAR. 
 
 To attempt a description of the man's actions when 
 this was read, would end in simple failure. Leaping 
 over the seats, he rushed up to the minister, crying : 
 
 " Bead that again ! Head that agin ! " 
 
 When he had finished reading the second time, 
 William rushed upon him, clasped his arms about 
 him, shouting and crying out : 
 
 "That's me! that's my wife! Glory! Glory be to 
 the Lord!" 
 
 It was not many hours before he had his wife and 
 child clasped within his embrace, and without attempt- 
 ing to describe the heart-touching scene that followed 
 such a reunion of the long separated pair, let us draw 
 the curtain upon the happiness of those once Bond 
 but now Free. 
 
 THE END. 
 
/