"Man, I fear neither your weapons nor your threats; they are powerless. You are not at home—you are not in Tennessee. And as for your property, I have none of it about me or on my premises. We also know what we are about; we also understand, not only ourselves, but you."
Pale and trembling with rage they still shook their pistols in my face, and Chester, in a choked voice, exclaimed: "I'll—I'll—I won't say much more to you—you're a woman—but that young man of yours; I'll give five hundred dollars if he'll go to Kentucky with me."
Just then the conductor appeared and cried out: "What are you doing here, you villainous scoundrels? We'll have you arrested in five minutes." At this they fled precipitately to the woods, and the last we saw of these tall and valiant representatives of the land of chivalry were their heels feat receding in the thicket.
Of course, this brave exhibition of rhetoric and valor called out innumerable questions from the passengers; and from there on to Adrian, though already terribly fatigued, we had to be continually framing replies and making explanations.
Among the people of Sylvania the news spread like wildfire, and it was reported that over forty men were at the depot with hand-spikes and iron bars, ready to tear up the track in case the Hamilton family had been found on the train bound for Toledo.
When we arrived at Adrian my oldest son, Harvey, and Willis were there to meet us; and when we told Willis that Elsie's old master and his son had but an hour previously pointed pistols at our heads and threatened our lives, he could hardly speak from astonishment. Harvey said my letter arrived before sunrise, but that no one believed I had any thing to do with it. However, as the porter swore he saw me write it, Professor Patchin and J. F. Dolbeare were sent for; but they also distrusted its validity and the truthfulness of the bearer.
Elsie had no faith in it at all. "If," said she, "the old man is so very sick, as he hasn't seen us for years, they could bring him any black man and woman, and call them Willis and Elsie, and he'd never know the difference; and as for that letter, Mrs. Haviland never saw it. I believe the slave-holders wrote it themselves. They thought, as she was a widow, she'd have a black dress, and you know she hasn't got one in the house. And where's the pink aprons and green striped dresses? And there's no south bed-room in this house. It's all humbug; and I sha'n't stir a step until I see Mrs. Haviland."
Said another: "These things look queer. There's no bureau in the west room."
The porter, seeing he could not get the family, offered Willis ten dollars if he would go to Palmyra with him, but he refused. He then offered it to my son Harvey if he would take Wills to Palmyra.
"No, sir; I shall take him nowhere but to Adrian, to meet mother," was
Harvey's reply.
After their arrival in Adrian the porter again offered the ten dollars, and Lawyer Perkins and others advised Harvey to take it and give it to Willis, as they would protect him from all harm. But when I came I told him not to touch it; and the porter, drawing near, heard my explanation of the letter, and the threatening remarks of the people, who declared that if slave-holders should attempt to take the Hamilton family or any other escaped slave from our city or county they would see trouble. He soon gave us the benefit of his absence, and we went home with thankful hearts that public sentiment had made a law too strong to allow avaricious and unprincipled men to cast our persecuted neighbors back into the seething cauldron of American slavery.
All that day our house was thronged with visitors, eager to hear the story which was agitating the whole community, but about midnight I told my friends that rest was a necessity, for never in my life was I so thoroughly exhausted from talking; but, as the next day wan-the Sabbath, I would in the evening meet all who chose to come in the Valley School-house (at that day the largest in the county) and tell them the whole story, and save repeating it so many times.
When the evening came we met a larger crowd than could find standing-room in the school-house, and report said there was a spy for the slave-holders under a window outside.
I related the whole story, omitting nothing, and was followed by Elijah Brownell, one of our ablest anti-slavery lecturers, with a few spirited remarks. He suggested that a collection should be taken up to defray our expenses to Toledo and return, and fourteen dollars was soon placed in my hands.
From a friend of our letter-carrier, the porter of the Toledo Hotel, we learned that the plans of the slave-holders accorded with those given James Martin in the sick-room. After getting the Hamilton family in their clutches they intended to gag and bind—them, and, traveling nights, convey them from one point to another until they reached Kentucky. This was precisely on the plan of our underground railroad, but happily for the cause of freedom, in this case at least, not as successful.
The citizens of Adrian appointed a meeting at the court-house, and sent for me to again tell the story of the slaveholder who had so deeply laid his plans to capture, not only his fugitive slave Elsie and her four children, but also her husband, who was a free man. Other meetings were called to take measures for securing the safety of the hunted family from the iron grasp of the oppressor, whose arm is ever strong and powerful in the cause of evil; and so great was public excitement that the chivalrous sons of the South found our Northern climate too warm for their constitutions, and betook themselves to the milder climate of Tennessee with as great speed as their hunted slave, with her husband, hastened away from there fifteen years before.
It may be asked how the Chesters discovered that Hamilton and his wife were in Michigan. We learned afterward that John P. Chester was the postmaster at Jonesborough, and receiving a letter at his office directed to John Bayliss, he suspected it to be from friends of his former slaves, and opened it. His suspicions being confirmed, he detained the letter, and both corresponded and came North in the assumed character of Bayliss. His schemes miscarried, as we have above narrated, and Bayliss probably never knew of the desperate game played in his name.
About two weeks after the departure of this noble trio I received a threatening letter from John P. Chester, to which I replied; and this was followed by a correspondence with his son, Thomas K. Chester (the sick deacon). From these letters we shall give a few extracts.
In a letter received under the date of December 3; 1846, John P. Chester writes: "I presume you do not want something for nothing; and inasmuch as you have my property in your possession, and are so great a philanthropist, you Hill feel bound to remunerate me for that property…. If there is any law of the land to compel you to pay for them I intend to have it."
In my reply, December 20, 1846, I wrote:
"First, convince me that you have property in my possession, and you shall have the utmost farthing. But if Willis Hamilton and family are property in my possession, then are Rev. John Patchin and wife, principals of Raisin Institute, and other neighbors, property in my possession, as I have dealing with each family, precisely in the same manner that I have with Willis Hamilton and family, and I do as truly recognize property in my other neighbors as in the Hamilton family. Prove my position fallacious, and not predicated on principles of eternal right, and they may be blown to the four winds of heaven. If carnal weapons can be brought to bear upon the spiritual you shall have the liberty to do it with the six-shooters you flourished toward my face in Sylvania, Ohio….
"As for my being compelled to pay you for this alleged property, to this I have but little to say, as it is the least of all my troubles in this lower world. I will say, However, I stand ready to meet whatever you may think proper to do in the case. Should you think best to make us another call, I could not vouch for your safety. The circumstances connected with this case have been such that great excitement has prevailed. A. number of my neighbors have kept arms since our return from Toledo. I can say with the Psalmist, 'I am for peace, but they are for war.'
"At a public meeting called the next evening after our return from the Toledo trip, fourteen dollars was placed in my hands as a remuneration for the assistance I rendered in examining your very sick patient. I found the disease truly alarming, far beyond the reach of human aid, much deeper than bilious fever, although it might have assumed a typhoid grade. The blister that you were immediately to apply on the back of the patient could not extract that dark, deep plague-spot of slavery, too apparent to be misunderstood."
I received a long list of epithets in a letter, bearing date, Jonesboro, Tennessee, February 7, 1847, from Thomas K. Chester, the sick deacon:
"I have thought it my duty to answer your pack of balderdash, … that you presumed to reply to my father, as I was with him on his tour to Michigan, and a participant in all his transactions, even to the acting the sick man's part in Toledo …, True it is, by your cunning villainies you have deprived us of our just rights, of our own property…. Thanks be to an all wise and provident God that, my father has more of that sable kind of busy fellows, greasy, slick, and fat; and they are not cheated to death out of their hard earnings by villainous and infernal abolitionists, whose philanthropy is interest, and whose only desire is to swindle the slave-holder out of his own property, and convert its labor to their own infernal aggrandizement.
"It is exceedingly unpleasant for me to indulge in abuse, particularly to a woman, and I would not now do it, did I not feel a perfect consciousness of right and duty…. Who do you think would parley with a thief, a robber of man's just rights, recognized by the glorious Constitution of our Union! Such a condescension would damn an honest man, would put modesty to the blush. What! to engage in a contest with you? a rogue, a damnable thief, a negro thief, an outbreaker, a criminal in the sight of all honest men; … the mother, too, of a pusillanimous son, who permitted me to curse and damn you in Sylvania! I would rather be caught with another man's sheep on my back than to engage in such a subject, and with such an individual as old Laura Haviland, a damned nigger-stealer….
"You can tell Elsie that since our return my father bought her eldest daughter; that she is now his property, and the mother of a likely boy, that I call Daniel Haviland after your pretty son. She has plenty to eat, and has shoes in the Winter, an article Willis's children had not when I was there, although it was cold enough to freeze the horns off the cows…. What do you think your portion will be at the great day of judgment? I think it will be the inner temple of hell."
In my reply, dated Raisin, March 16, 1847, I informed the sick deacon that my letter to his father "had served as a moral emetic, by the mass of black, bilious, and putrid matter it bad sent forth. You must have been exercised with as great distress, as extreme pain, that was producing paroxysms and vomiting, that you had in your sick-room in the Toledo hotel, when your physician was so hastily called to your relief by your son-in-law, as the matter that lies before me in letter form is as 'black', and much more 'bilious,' and nearer 'mortification' than that I saw there."
"We thank you for the name's sake. May he possess the wisdom of a
Daniel of old, although his lot be cast in the lions' den; and, like
Moses, may he become instrumental in leading his people away from a
worse bondage than that of Egypt.
"According to your logic, we are not only robbing the slaveholder, but the poor slave of his valuable home, where he can enjoy the elevating and soul-ennobling privilege of looking 'greasy, slick, and fat'—can have the privilege of being forbidden the laborious task of cultivating his intellect—is forbidden to claim his wife and children as his own instead of the property of John P. Chester."
I pitied the young man, whose bitterness of hate seemed incorrigible, and gave advice which I deemed wholesome, although I yielded to the temptation of dealing somewhat in irony and sarcasm.
But the next letter from the sick deacon was filled and running over with vulgar blackguardism, that I would neither answer nor give to the public eye. It was directed to "Laura S. Haviland, Esq., or Dan." As it arrived in my absence, my son Daniel handed it to Rev. John Patchin, who became so indignant in reading the list of epithets that he proposed to reply.
The first sentence of his letter was:
"Sir,—As John Quincy Adams and Henry Clay were seated in Congress, they saw passing on the street a drove of jackasses. Said Henry Clay, 'There, Sir, Adams, is a company of your constituents as they come from the North.' 'All right; they are going South to teach yours,' was the quick reply. And I think one of those long-eared animals has strayed down your way, and your ma might have sent you to his school—I think, however, but a few weeks, or your epistolary correspondence with Mrs. Haviland would have been vastly improved."
From the report my son gave me of the short epistle, it was filled with sentenced couched in the same spirit throughout; "for," said he, "that rabid fire-eater has been treated in a manner too mild. He needs something more nearly like his own coin."
I shortly after received a few lines from Thomas K. Chester, informing me that he had my last letter struck off in hand-bills, and circulated in a number of the Southern States, "over its true signature, Laura S. Haviland, as you dictated and your daughter wrote it; for, as strange as it may appear, I have the handwriting of every one of your family, and also of Willis Hamilton. I distribute these hand-bills for the purpose of letting the South see what sort of sisters they have in the North." We learned from a number of sources that to this circular or hand-bill was attached a reward of $3,000 for my head.
As for the letter that Chester had richly earned, neither my daughter nor myself had the privilege of perusing it, as it was mailed before my return home. But I presume the indignant writer designed to close the unpleasant correspondence.
SECOND EFFORT TO RETAKE THE HAMILTON FAMILY.
After the passage of the famous Fugitive-slave Bill of 1850, turning the whole population of the North into slave-hunters, Thomas K. Chester, with renewed assurance, came to Lawyer Beacher's office, in Adrian, and solicited his services in capturing the Hamiltons, as he was now prepared to take legal steps in recovering his property. Said he:
"I ask no favors of Adrian or Raisin, as I have my posse of thirty men within a stone's throw of this city. All I ask is legal authority from you, Mr. Beacher, and I can easily get them in my possession."
"I can not aid you," said Mr. Beacher; "it would ruin my practice as a lawyer."
"I will give you $100, besides your fee," rejoined Chester.
"You have not enough money in your State of Tennessee to induce me to assist you in any way whatever."
"Will you direct me to a lawyer who will aid me?"
"I can not; I know of none in our State who could be hired to assist you. And I advise you to return to your home; for you will lose a hundred dollars where you will gain one, if you pursue it."
At this advice he became enraged, and swore he would have them this time, at any cost. "And if old Laura Haviland interferes I'll put her in prison. I acknowledge she outwitted us before; but let her dare prevent my taking them this time, and I'll be avenged on her before I leave this State."
"All the advice I have to give you is to abandon this scheme, for you will find no jail in this State that will hold that woman. And I request you not to enter my office again on this business, for if it were known to the public it would injure my practice; and I shall not recognize you on the street."
In a lower tone Chester continued, "I request you, Mr. Beacher, as a gentleman, to keep my name and business a secret." With a few imprecations he left the office.
My friend R. Beacher sent a dispatch to me at once by Sheriff Spafford, to secure the safety of the Hamilton family at once, if still on my premises, as my Tennessee correspondents were probably in or near Adrian. I informed him they were safe in Canada within six months after the visit from the Chesters. Mr. Beacher also advised me to make my property safe without delay, but this had been done two years previously. On receiving this information my friend Beacher replied, "Had I known this I would have sent for her, for I'd give ten dollars to see them meet." Mr. Chester heard that the Hamilton family had gone to Canada, but he did not believe it, as he also heard they had gone to Ypsilanti, in this State, where he said he should follow them.
We learned in the sequel that he went to Ypsilanti, and took rooms and board in a hotel, while calling on every colored family in town and for two or three miles around it, sometimes as a drover, at other times an agent to make arrangements for purchasing wood and charcoal. During four weeks he found a family that answered the description of the Hamilton family in color and number. He wrote to his father that he had found them under an assumed name, and requested him to send a man who could recognize them, as they had been away over eighteen years. The man was sent, and two weeks more were spent in reconnoitering. At length both were agreed to arrest David Gordon and wife, with their four children, as the Hamilton family, and applied for a warrant to take the family as escaped slaves. The United States Judge, Hon. Ross Wilkins, who issued the warrant, informed one of the most active underground railroad men, George De Baptist, of this claimant's business. He immediately telegraphed to a vigorous worker in Ypsilanti, who sent runners in every direction, inquiring for a Hamilton family. None could be found; and the conclusion was reached that they were newcomers and were closely concealed, and the only safe way was to set a watch at the depot for officers and their posse, and follow whithersoever they went, keeping in sight. This was done, and the place they found aimed for was David Gordon's. On entering the house the officer placed hand-cuffs on David Gordon, who in surprise asked, "What does this mean?"
Said the officer, "I understand your name is Willis Hamilton, once a slave in Tennessee."
Gordon replied, "No, sir, you are mistaken; I never was in that State; neither is my name Hamilton, but Gordon, and I have free papers from Virginia."
"Where are your papers? If they are good they shall save you."
Pointing to a trunk, "There they are; take that key and you'll find them."
While the officer was getting the papers, Chester went to the bed of the sick wife, placed a six-shooter at her head, and swore he'd blow her brains out in a moment if she did not say their name was Hamilton. "No, sir, our name is Gordon." Their little girl, standing by, cried out with fear. He turned to her, with pistol pointing toward her face, and swore he'd kill her that instant if she did not say her father's name was Willis Hamilton.
At this juncture, the officer's attention was arrested. "What are you about, you villain? You'll be arrested before you know it, if you are not careful. Put up that pistol instantly, and if these papers are good, I shall release this man, and return the warrant unserved."
He examined them and said, "These papers I find genuine." He then
removed the handcuffs from David Gordon, and with the discomfited
Thomas K. Chester and Tennessee companion returned to the depot for the
Detroit train.
While on their way they met a colored man that Chester swore was Willis Hamilton. Said the officer, "You know not what you are about; I shall arrest no man at your command."
On returning the unserved warrant to Judge Wilkins, Chester charged him with being allied with the "d——d abolitionist, old Laura Haviland, in running off that family to Malden, to keep me out of my property."
"I knew nothing of the family, or of your business, until you came into this office yesterday," replied the judge.
In a rage and with an oath, he replied, "I know, sir, your complicity in keeping slave-holders out of their property, and can prove it." He threw his hat on the floor and gave a stamp, as if to strengthen his oath.
The judge simply ordered him out of his office, instead of committing him to prison for contempt of court; and with his companion he went back to his Tennessee home, again defeated.
Thomas K. Chester wrote and had published scurrilous articles in Tennessee, and in a number of other Southern States. They were vigorously circulated until the following Congress, in which the grave charge was brought against the judge, "of being allied with Mrs. Haviland, of the interior of the State of Michigan, a rabid abolitionist, in keeping slaveholders out of their slave property." A vigorous effort was made by Southern members to impeach him, while his friends were petitioning Congress to raise his salary, Judge Wilkins was sent for to answer to these false charges. Although they failed to impeach him, yet on account of these charges the addition to his salary was lost.
When these false accusations were brought into Congress, and the judge was informed of the necessity of his presence to answer thereto, he inquired of Henry Bibb and others where I was. They informed him that I was absent from home. On my return from Cincinnati with a few underground railroad passengers, I learned of the trouble Judge Wilkins met, and I called on him. He told me of the pile of Southern papers he had received, with scurrilous articles, designed to prejudice Southern members of Congress against him. Said he, "Although they failed in the impeachment, they said they would come against me with double force next Congress, and should effect their object." Said the judge, "I want your address, for if they do repeat their effort, with the explanation you have now given, I think I can save another journey to Washington. The judge was never again called upon to defend himself on this subject, as their effort was not repeated; neither did their oft-repeated threat to imprison me disturb us."
DEATH OF THE CHESTERS
In the third year of the Rebellion, while in Memphis, Tennessee, on a mission to the perishing, I found myself in the city where my Tennessee correspondents lived a few years previous to their deaths. From a minister who had long been a resident of that city, and had also lived near Jonesboro, where they resided during the correspondence, I learned the following facts: A few years prior to the war John P. Chester removed with his family to Memphis, where he became a patroller. His son Thomas transacted business as a lawyer. I was shown his residence, and the office where John P. Chester was shot through the heart by a mulatto man, whose free papers he demanded, doubting their validity. Said the man, "I am as free as you are; and to live a slave I never shall." He then drew a six-shooter from its hiding-place and shot him through the heart. He fell, exclaiming, "O God, I'm a dead man." The man threw down the fatal weapon, saying to the bystanders, "Here I am, gentlemen, shoot me, or hang me, just as you please, but to live a slave to any man I never shall." He was taken by the indignant crowd, and hung on the limb of a tree near by, pierced with many bullets. I can not describe the feeling that crept over me, as I gazed upon the pavement where John P. Chester met his fate, and which I had walked over in going to officers' head-quarters from the steamer. Oh! what a life, to close with such a tragedy!
Thomas K. Chester being a few rods distant ran to assist his dying father, but his life was gone ere he reached him. A few months later he was brought from a boat sick with yellow fever, and died in one week from the attack in terrible paroxysms and ravings, frequently requiring six men to hold him on his bed. He was ill the same length of time that they falsely represented a few years before in the Toledo hotel. Said the narrator, "Thomas K. Chester's death was the most awful I ever witnessed. He cursed and swore to his last breath, saying he saw his father standing by his bed, with damned spirits waiting to take him away to eternal burnings."
After a long walk one day, I called at the former residence of the Chester family, and was seated in the front parlor. It is hard to imagine my feelings as I sat in the room where those two men had lain in death's cold embrace—men who had flourished toward my face the six-shooter. It was by this kind of deadly weapon the life of one was taken; and as nearly as words can describe the feigned sickness, the last week of the life of the other was spent. No wonder the blood seemed to curdle in my veins in contemplating the lives of these men, and their end. It is beyond the power of pen to describe the panorama that passed before me in these moments. The proprietor of the Toledo hotel lost custom by his complicity in their efforts to retake their alleged slave property. A few months after the hotel was burned to ashes.
CHAPTER IV.
AN OHIO SCHOOL-TEACHER.
In the Autumn of 1847 a gentleman of evident culture called for early breakfast, though he had passed a public house about two miles distant. I mistrusted my stranger caller to be a counterfeit; and told him, as I had the care of an infant for a sick friend, he would find better fare at the boarding hall a few rods away. But introducing himself as an Ohio school-teacher, and accustomed to boarding around, he had not enjoyed his favorite bread and milk for a long while, and if I would be so kind as to allow him a bowl of bread and milk he would accept it as a favor. He said he had heard of our excellent school, and wished to visit it. He was also acting as agent of the National Era, published at Cincinnati, in which he was much interested, and solicited my subscription. I told him I knew it to be a valuable periodical, but, as I was taking three, abolition papers he must excuse me.
He was also very much interested in the underground railroad projects, and referred to names of agents and stations, in Indiana and Ohio, in a way that I concluded he had been on the trail and found me, as well as others, and perhaps taken the assumed agency of the Era for a covering. He said it was found necessary in some places in Ohio and Indiana to change the routes, as slave-holders had traced and followed them so closely that they had made trouble in many places, and suggested a change in Michigan, as there were five slave-holders in Toledo, Ohio, when he came through, in search of escaped slaves. I replied that it might be a good idea, but I had not considered it sufficiently to decide.
Continuing his arguments, he referred to a slave who was captured by Mr. B. Stevens, of Boone County, Kentucky. He saw him tied on a horse standing at the door of an inn where he was teaching. In surprise, I inquired:
"Did that community allow that to be done in their midst without making an effort to rescue the self-made freeman?"
"O yes, because Stevens came with witnesses and papers, proving that he legally owned him; so that nothing could be done to hinder him."
"That could never be done in this community; and I doubt whether it could be done in this State."
"But what could you do in a case like that?"
"Let a slave-holder come and try us, as they did six months ago in their effort to retake the Hamilton family, who are still living here on my premises, and you see how they succeeded;" and I gave him their plans and defeat. "Let them or any other slave-holders disturb an escaped slave, at any time of night or day, and the sound of a tin horn would be heard, with a dozen more answering it in different directions, and men enough would gather around the trembling fugitive for his rescue. For women can blow horns, and men can run. Bells are used in our school and neighborhood; but if the sound of a tin horn is heard it is understood, a few miles each way from Raisin Institute, just what it means."
Looking surprised, he answered: "Well, I reckon you do understand yourselves here. But I don't see how you could retain one legally if papers and witnesses were on hand."
"Hon. Ross Wilkins, United States judge, residing in Detroit, can legally require any fugitive so claimed to be brought before him, and not allow any thing to be done until the decision is reached. And there are many active workers to assist escaping slaves in that city, who would rush to their aid, and in ten minutes see them safe in Canada. I presume if the slave claimant should come with a score of witnesses and a half-bushel of papers, to prove his legal right, it would avail him nothing, as we claim a higher law than wicked enactments of men who claim the misnomer of law by which bodies and souls of men, women, and children are claimed as chattels." The proprietor of the boarding hall desired me to allow him to inform the stranger of our suspicions, and invite him to leave. But I declined, as I had reached the conclusion that my visitor was from Kentucky, and probably in search of John White, whose master had sworn that he would send him as far as wind and water would carry him if he ever got him again. Professor Patchin and J. F. Dolbeare called to see him, and conversed with him about his agency for the Era, etc.; and brother Patchin invited him to attend the recitations of the classes in Latin and geometry. The second was accepted, as mathematics, he said, was his favorite study.
By four o'clock P.M., the hour of his leaving, the tide of excitement
was fast rising, and one of the students offered to go and inform John
White of the danger we suspected, and advise him to take refuge in
Canada until these Kentuckians should leave our State.
We surmised that the five slave-holders he reported in Toledo were his own company, which was soon found to be true. One of my horses was brought into requisition at once for the dispatch-bearer; but he had not been on his journey an hour before we learned that our Ohio teacher inquired of a boy on the road if there had been a mulatto man by the name of White attending school at Raisin Institute the past Winter.
"Yes, sir."
"Where is he now?"
"He hired for the season to Mr. Watkins, near Brooklyn, in Jackson
County."
This report brought another offer to become dispatch-bearer to the hunted man. The following day found John White in Canada.
Two days after George W. Brazier, who claimed John White as his property, and the man who had lost the woman and five children, with their two witnesses, and their lawyer, J. L. Smith, who recently made me an all-day visit, entered the lowest type of a saloon in the town near by, and inquired for two of the most besotted and wickedest men in town. Being directed according to their novel inquiry, the men were found and hired, making their number seven, to capture John White. The field in which he had been at work was surrounded by the seven men at equal distances. But, as they neared the supposed object of their pursuit, lo! a poor white man was there instead of the prize they were so sure of capturing. They repaired to the house of Mr. Watkins, and inquired of him for the whereabouts of John White. The frank reply was:
"I suppose he is in Canada, as I took him, with his trunk, to the depot, yesterday, for that country."
At this Brazier poured forth a volley of oaths about me, and said he knew I had been there.
"Hold on, sir, you are laboring under a mistake. We have none of us seen her; and I want you to understand that there are others, myself included, who are ready to do as much to save a self-freed slave from being taken back to Southern bondage as Mrs. Haviland. Mr. White is highly esteemed wherever he is known; and we would not see him go back from whence he came without making great effort to prevent it."
At this Brazier flew into a rage, and furiously swore he would yet be avenged on me before he left the State."
"I advise you to be more sparing of your threats. We have a law here to arrest and take care of men who make such threats as you have here," said Mr. Watkins.
With this quietus they left for Tecumseh, four miles distant from us.
While at Snell's Hotel they displayed on the bar-room table pistols, dirks, and bowie-knives, and pointing to them, said Brazier, "Here is what we use, and we'll have the life of that d—d abolitionist, Mrs. Haviland, before we leave this State, or be avenged on her in some way." The five men then in haste jumped aboard the stage for Adrian. As the authorities were informed of these threats, and Judge Stacy was going to Adrian on business, he proposed to leave with a friend he was to pass the import of these threats, fearing they might quit the stage while passing through our neighborhood, and under cover of night commit their deeds of darkness. I received the note, and told the bearer I accepted this as the outburst of passion over their defeat, and did not believe they designed to carry out these threats, and requested the excited family to keep this as near a secret as possible, during a day or two at least, to save my children and the school this exciting anxiety. But I could not appear altogether stoical, and consulted judicious friends, who advised me to leave my home a night or two at least. This was the saddest moment I had seen. I felt that I could not conscientiously leave my home. "If slaveholders wish to call on me they will find me here, unless I have business away." They insisted that I should keep my windows closed after dark, and they would send four young men students, to whom they would tell the secret, with the charge to keep it unless disturbance should require them to reveal it. We received information the following day that the five Kentuckians took the cars for Toledo on their arrival at Adrian. Their threats increased the excitement already kindled, and neighbors advised me not to remain in my house of nights, as there might be hired emissaries to execute their will. Some even advised me to go to Canada for safety. But rest was mine in Divine Providence.
The following week I accompanied an insane friend with her brother to Toledo. The brother wished me to go to Monroe on business for them. He soon informed me that the five Kentuckians were in the same hotel with us, and he overheard one say that I had no doubts followed them to see whether they had found any of their runaways, and that one of their party was going wherever I did to watch my movements. This friend also saw them consulting with the barkeeper, who sat opposite at breakfast table, and introduced the defeated stratagem of the Tennessee slave-holders at the Toledo hotel a few months previously. Said he, "I believe you are the lady who met them there. Some of us heard of it soon after, and we should have rushed there in a hurry if there had been an attempt to take a fugitive from our city. They might as well attempt to eat through an iron wall as to get one from us. I am an abolitionist of the Garrison stamp, and there are others here of the same stripe." And in this familiar style he continued, quite to my annoyance, at the table. He came to me a number of times after breakfast to find what he could do to assist me in having the hack take me to whatever point I wished to go.
"Are you going east, madam?"
"Not today."
"Or are you designing to go south, or to return on the Adrian train?"
"I shall not go in either direction today."
Leaving me a few moments, he returned with inquiring whether I was going to Monroe, and giving as the reason for his inquiries the wish to assist me. I informed him I was going to take the ten o'clock boat for Monroe. I learned in the sequel that they charged me with secreting the woman and five children, and aiding their flight to Canada; but of them I knew nothing, until my Ohio teacher informed me of their flight, and while I was suspected and watched by their pursuers, we had reason to believe they were placed on a boat at Cleveland, and were safe in Canada.
We learned that their lawyer made inquiries while in my neighborhood whether my farm and Raisin Institute were entirely in my hands. When they became satisfied of the fact they left orders for my arrest upon a United States warrant, to be served the following Autumn, if they failed to recover their human property. About the expiration of the time set George W. Brazier went with a gang of slaves for sale to Baton Rouge, Louisiana, and died suddenly of cholera. There his projects ended, and John White soon returned to his work in Michigan.
These circumstances delayed my prospect of going to Cincinnati and Rising Sun to learn the condition of his family, but as money had been raised by the anxious husband and father and his friends, I went to Cincinnati, where I found my friends, Levi Coffin and family. The vigilant committee was called to his private parlor, to consult as to the most prudent measure to adopt in securing an interview with Jane White, John's wife, whose master, Benjamin Stevens, was her father, and the vain hope was indulged that he would not make an effort to retake the family should they make a start for freedom. The committee proposed that I should go to Rising Sun, and, through Joseph Edgerton and Samuel Barkshire and families, obtain an interview with Jane White, as they were intelligent and well-to-do colored friends of John White's in Rising Sun.
Accordingly I went, and called on Joseph Edgerton's eating-house. On making my errand known, there was great rejoicing over good news from their esteemed friend Felix White, as John was formerly called. In conferring with these friends and Samuel Barkshire, they thought the errand could be taken to Jane, through Stevens's foreman slave, Solomon, who was frequently allowed to cross the river on business for his master, and was looked for the following Saturday. But as we were disappointed, Joseph's wife, Mary Edgerton, proposed to go with me to Benjamin Stevens's, ostensibly to buy plums. As there was no trace of African blood perceivable in her, and the Stevens family, both white and colored, had seen her mother, who was my size, with blue eyes, straight brown hair, and skin as fair as mine, there was no question as to relationship when Mary introduced me to Jane and her sister Nan as Aunt Smith (my maiden name). It was also known to the Stevens family that Mary was expecting her aunt from Georgia to spend a few weeks with her. When we entered the basement, which was the kitchen of the Stevens house, twelve men and women slaves just came in from the harvest-field for their dinner, which consisted of "corn dodgers" placed in piles at convenient distances on the bare table, made of two long rough boards on crossed legs. A large pitcher filled as full as its broken top would allow of sour milk, and a saucer of greens, with a small piece of pork cut in thin slices, were divided among the hands, who were seated on the edge of their table, except a few who occupied stools and broken chairs. Not a whole earthen dish or plate was on that table. A broken knife or fork was placed by each plate, and they used each other's knife or fork, and ate their humble repast with apparent zest. I have given this harvest dinner in detail, as Benjamin Stevens was called a remarkably kind master. It was frequently remarked by surrounding planters "that the Stevens niggers thought they were white."
As we were informed they had no plums for sale, Mary proposed filling our "buckets" with blackberries, as there were an abundance within a short distance, and asked Jane if she or Nan could not go and show us the way. "I'll go an' ask Missus Agnes," replied Nan, who soon returned with the word that Jane might go, as she wanted to make another batch of jam. "But she says we must get dinner for Mary and her aunt first." A small tablecloth was placed over one end of the table, and wheat bread, butter, honey, and a cream-pitcher of sweet milk was brought down for us. Not a child of the nine little ones playing in the kitchen asked for a taste of anything during or after our meal. All that was left was taken up stairs, and we were invited to call on Mrs. Agnes, who received us cordially. She was teaching Jane's oldest daughter, of seven years, to sew. After a few minutes chat with the mistress, we left for blackberries.
When out of sight, I told Jane I was the one who wrote a letter for her husband, Felix White, to her, and directed it to Samuel Barkshire, who told me he read it to her, but did not dare take it from his house, but took the braid of his hair tied with blue ribbon, sent in the letter. She looked at me in amazement for a moment, when she burst into a flood of tears. As soon as she could command her feelings she said her master had told her that he had heard from Felix, and that he was married again, and was riding around with his new wife mighty happy. When I gave her the errand from her husband she was again convulsed with weeping. Said she, "I would gladly work day and night, until my fingers and toes are without a nail, and willingly see my children work in the same way, could we only be with Felix." Poor heartbroken woman, she sighed like a sobbing child. But two of her children were out a few miles with one of the Stevens married children, to be gone two months, and she sent a request to her husband to come on the sly to assist in bringing their children away after the return of the absent ones, so that all might go together. I assisted her in picking berries, as she had spent so much of her time in talking and weeping her mistress might complain. I gave her a little memento from her husband, and left the poor heartstricken, crushed spirit.
The daughter and grandchildren of the master withheld them from going to their natural protector, yet he was called one of the best of slave-holders. Here was a woman and sister whose widowhood was more desolate than even death had made my own. And her poor children were worse than fatherless. I returned to my home and anxious children and friends.
But the grieved husband felt confident his intimate friend William Allen, who would have left for freedom long ago but for his wife and child, would assist Jane and the children could he know from him how many warm friends there were in the North to assist them. His friends, as well as himself, were anxious to make another trial without the risk of his going into the lion's den. Means being provided, three mouths later found me again in Rising Sun. After a little waiting to see William Allen, I took a boat and went four miles below on the Kentucky side, and called at the house of his master to wait for a boat going up the river within a few hours.
As they were having a great excitement over counterfeiters, and were making great efforts to find the rogues, and looking upon every stranger with suspicion, I was believed by my host to be one of them in disguise. Within an hour after my arrival the sheriff and a deputy were brought into an adjoining room. The lady of the house appeared excited. Her little girl inquired who those strange gentlemen were; she replied the sheriff and his deputy. I looked up from the paper I was busily reading, and entered into conversation with the lady of the house, when I overhead one man say, "I don't think there is anything wrong about that woman." This remark led me to suppose I might be the object of the undertone conversation among the gentlemen in the adjoining room. Soon after the three gentlemen came into the room, with whom I passed the usual "good afternoon." One, whom I took to be the sheriff, made a few remarks over fine weather, etc., and all three returned to their room. Said one, in a low voice, "I tell you that woman is all right; she's no counterfeiter." My excited hostess became calm, and quite social, and made excuses for having to look after the cooking of her turkey, as she allowed her cook to spend this Sabbath with her husband in visiting one of their friends. "And I always burn and blister my hands whenever I make an attempt at cooking. But my cook is so faithful I thought I would let her go today."
As I gave up the idea of seeing William Allen, I was about to go to the wharf-boat and wait there for the five o'clock boat. But she urged me to take dinner with them, as I would have plenty of time. After dinner they directed me across a pasture-field that would shorten the half-mile. Just out of sight of the house I met William Allen, with his wife and little girl of ten years. As they were so well described by John—or Felix, as he was here known—I recognized them, and gave the message from their friend, from whom they rejoiced to hear. He said he longed to be free, and thought two weeks from that day he could go over to Samuel Barkshire's to see me. During this time he would deliver the message to Jane. At present, he said, it would be very difficult crossing, as there was great excitement over men that passed a lot of counterfeit money in that neighborhood, and they were watching for them. I told him it was not safe for us to talk longer there, as they were slaves, and I was not free to be seen talking with them, and gave them the parting hand, informing them that many prayers of Christian people of the North were daily ascending for the deliverance of the slave. "May God grant the answer!" was the heartfelt reply.
During the two weeks Mary Scott was introduced, who had recently bought herself, with her free husband's aid. She related to me the sad condition of her sister, Rachel Beach, who was the slave of Mr. Ray, the brother of Wright Ray, of Madison, Indiana, the noted negro catcher. She was the kept mistress of her master, who held her and her five children, who were his own flesh and blood, as his property. After her sister Rachel's religious experience, she was much distressed over the life she was compelled to lead with her master. She had often wept with her weeping sister. When she thought of escaping, she could not leave her five little children to her own sad fate. As I was informed that Mary Scott was a reliable Christian woman, I gave her a plan, and names of persons and places of safety, with a charge not to stop over the second night—if possible, to avoid it—at the first place named; for it was too near her master's brother, Wright Ray, as he would make great efforts to retake them.
This plan was adopted. But they were kept two days at Luther Donald's station, which brought them into great difficulty. He was so well known as the slave's friend it was unsafe to secrete fugitives on his own premises; and he placed them in an out-house of one of his friends. On the second night of their flight, when they were to be taken to the next station, Wright Ray was on their track, and entered the neighborhood at dark twilight, filling it with excitement on the part of both friends and foes. The cry of a child brought a neighbor to their hiding-place, who told her she was unsafe; but he would take her and the children to his barn, where they would be perfectly secure. Soon after her new friend left her she felt in great danger, and when her children were asleep in their bed of stalls she ventured to place herself by the road-side. Here she heard horses coming, and listened to hear the voice of their riders, to see if she could recognize her first friends, as they had told her they were going to take them to another place of safety that night; but, to her grief, she heard the voice of Wright Ray, with his posse. Filled with fear of capture, she groped her way still farther back in the dark. After her pursuers passed she heard two men coming, in low conversation. She prayed for direction, and felt impressed, as she said, to tell these men her trouble. They proved to be her friends, who missed them as they went to take their suppers. As Ray and his company were known to be in town, they knew not but they were captured. Runners were sent to the usual resorts of slave-hunters, to see if any clew could be learned of the fate of the missing family.
"O, how I prayed God to deliver me in this my great distress!" she said, in relating her flight in my interview with her in Canada. She led her two friends to the barn, from whence her sleeping children were removed; but by the time they reached the road they saw the lantern, and heard rustling of stalks by her pursuers. As her new friend was a well-known friend to slave-hunters, she and her children were still in great danger. She was dressed in men's clothing, and her girls dressed like boys, and they were taken out in different directions. Rachel and the youngest child her guide took to a Quaker neighborhood, while two men took each two girls on their horses and took different roads to other places of safety; but no two of the three parties knew of the others' destination. Two days of distressing anxiety were passed before a word reached the mother from her children. Not knowing but they were back to their old Kentucky home, she could neither eat nor sleep for weeping and praying over the probable loss of her children. But her joy could not find expression when two of them were brought to her. At first sight of her darlings, she cried out, "Glory to God! he has sent me two more. But where, O, where are the other two?" The two men who brought these in their close carriage could give no tidings, as they had heard nothing from them since leaving Donald Station. Rachel continued weeping for her children because they were not. On the following day they were heard from, and that they would be brought on the following day, P. M.
A number of the neighbors were invited to witness the meeting. Among them was a strong pro-slavery man and his family, who had often said the abolitionists might as well come to his barn and steal his horse or wheat as to keep slave-holders out of their slave property; yet he was naturally a sympathetic man. This Quaker abolitionist knew it would do him good to witness the anticipated scene. The knowledge of the prospective arrival of the children was carefully kept from the mother until she saw them, coming through the gate, when she cried aloud, as she sank on the floor, "Glory; hallelujah to the Lamb! You sent me all." She sobbed as she clasped them to her bosom, continuing, in an ecstasy, "Bless the Lord forever! He is so good to poor me." The little girls threw their arms around their mother's neck, and burst into a loud cry for joy. "But the weeping was not confined to them," said our Quaker sister, who was present. "There was not a dry eye in that house; and our pro-slavery neighbor cried as hard as any of us."
After the excitement died away a little, said one, "Now, we must adopt a plan to take this family on to Canada."
The pro-slavery man was the first to say, "I'll take my team, and take them where they'll be safe, if I have to take them all the way."
Another said, "It is cold weather, and we see these children have bare feet; and we must see about getting them stockings and shoes and warm clothing."
And the little daughter of him who had so generously offered his services in aiding this family beyond the reach, of danger sat down on the carpet and commenced taking off hers, saying, "She can have mine."
"But, Lotty, what will you do?" said the mother.
"O, papa can get me some more."
"Yes, papa will get you some more," said her father, wiping his eyes; "and your shoes and stockings will just fit that little girl." And the mother could hardly keep her from leaving them. But she told her to wear them home and put others on, then bring them back.
Said our informant, "I will warrant that man will hereafter become a stockholder."
But the rescue of the Beach family cost Luther Donald his farm. He was sued and found guilty of harboring runaway slaves and assisting them to escape. But not one sentence of truthful evidence was brought against him in court; although he did aid the Beach family when a stay of three minutes longer in their dangerous hiding-place would have secured their return to a life of degradation. Friends of the fugitive made up the loss in part, and the God of the oppressed blessed him still more abundantly. He was diligent in business, serving the Lord.
While rejoicing over the safe arrival of the Beach family in Canada, heavy tidings reached me from home. In a letter I was informed of the illness of my eldest son. Before the boat arrived that was to bear me homeward a second letter came with the sad intelligence of the death of my first-born. Oh, how my poor heart was wrung with anxiety to learn the state of his mind as he left the shores of time. Why did not the writer relieve me by giving the information I most needed? And yet I was advised to remain until the weather became more mild. I had a severe cough that followed an attack of pneumonia, and physicians had advised me to spend the Winter in a milder climate. But this bereavement seemed impelling me to return to my afflicted children. But more than all other considerations was to learn the state of that dear child's mind as he was about leaving the land of the dying for the spirit world of the living. He had been a living Christian, but during the year past had become more inactive, and in a conversation on the subject a few days previous to my leaving, he expressed regrets in not being more faithful. He urged me to take this trip, yet I could not but regret leaving home. "Oh my son, my son Harvey would to God I had died for thee!" In this distress, bordering upon agony of soul, I walked my room to and fro, praying for an evidence of his condition. In the conversation above alluded to he expressed a sincere desire to return.
Said he, "I am too much like the prodigal, too far away from my Savior." How vividly did his words come before me! Oh, how these words ran through my mind in this hour of sore trial. Is this the Isaac, I dwelt upon as I was leaving my home, that I may be called to sacrifice? I had in mind my son Daniel, who was fearful I would meet trouble from slave-holders, as he remarked to his brother Harvey, "Mother is a stranger to fear, though she might be in great danger."
"That fact, seems to me, secures her safety," replied Harvey.
As I overheard this conversation I shrank from the trial of leaving my home circle, in which death had made such inroads, and for the time being doubted whether I was called upon to make the sacrifice. But prayer was now constant for an evidence of my son's condition, whether prepared for exchange of worlds. He who spake peace to the troubled sea granted the answer of peace, with an assurance that my prayer was answered, and that in his own good time he would make it manifest.
I took the boat for Cincinnati, and on the morning after my arrival at the home of my valued friends, Levi Coffin and wife, I awoke with a comforting dream, which but for the circumstances I would not record. I find in the written Word of divine truth that God, at sundry times, made himself known to his faithful servants in dreams. And he is the same in all ages, in answering their petitions and meeting their wants. In the dream I thought I was living in the basement of a beautiful mansion. Being rather dark, damp, and cool, I looked for some means of warming my apartments, when I discovered the windows conveyed beautiful rays of sunlight sufficient to dry and warm apartments designed for only a temporary residence, as my future home was to be in the splendid apartments above, which I was not to be permitted to enter until the work assigned me in the basement was done. While busily engaged in sweeping my room, and arranging my work, I saw my son Harvey, descending from the upper portion of this limitless mansion, which I thought was now his home. I hastened to the door to meet him. As the thought struck me that he had been a slave, I cried out, "My son Harvey, art thou free?"
"Oh yes, mother, I am free; and I knew your anxiety, and I came on purpose to tell you that I went to my Master and asked if he would grant my pardon? And he looked upon me and saw me in my blood as I plowed in the field, and he said I should be free and live."
"Oh, what a relief is this glad news," I replied.
"I knew you desired me to go for my freedom long ago, but I did not know that my liberty would be so easily granted—just for asking. I am now free, indeed."
This message delivered, he ascended to his glorious home above. I awoke with the words of this message as clearly impressed upon my mind as if vocally spoken. I opened the Bible at the head of my bed, and the first words that met my eye were these: "I saw Ephraim cast out in the open field; I saw him in his blood, and I said live; and he shall live." With promises given by him with whom there is no variableness or shadow of turning, my heart was filled with praise and thanksgiving for the Comforter who grants peace such as the world knows not of. Very soon a letter came with the detailed account of the last hours of my son Harvey, in which he left a bright evidence of his preparation for the future life. He sent for Rev. John Patchin, of Raisin Institute, of whom he requested prayer; at the close of which he followed in fervent prayer for himself and loved ones. Then brother Patchin inquired if perfect peace was his at this hour? "It is," he answered; "I am ready to go," and he soon fell asleep in Jesus.
I remained a few weeks longer; but the close search for counterfeiters made it difficult for William Allen to cross.
The request was repeated by John White's wife for him to come for them. I returned home with the consciousness of having done all that I could in delivering the messages as requested. The husband and father could not feel reconciled to give up his family to a life of slavery, and went for them, and brought them a few miles on the Indiana side, above Rising Sun. They secreted themselves during the day in the woods, and with the aid of his friend and Solomon Stevens's slave, previously alluded to, who was also attempting to escape with the family, he made a raft upon which they were about to cross a creek to reach the team on the opposite side. Suddenly six armed men pounced upon them, and captured the family, with Solomon. To save John from the hazardous attempt to defend his family, his friend held him back in the thicket, knowing the effort must fail. As he was not allowed to move he sank back in despair in the arms of his friend. He had risked his own life and liberty in his attempt to rescue them. He learned that George W. Brazier swore he would chop him into inches if he ever got possession of him again. After his unsuccessful effort in Michigan he offered six hundred dollars for his head, dead or alive. Benjamin Stevens also offered six hundred dollars reward for his daughter and his five grandchildren, with Solomon. He afterwards sold them all for the very low price of one thousand dollars, with the proviso that they were not to be sold apart.
But poor Jane was not left long to grieve over her disappointed hopes. She died of cholera. We heard she went rejoicing in that hope that reaches beyond the vale. They were taken to Lexington, Kentucky, but the grieved husband and father again made his way northward. He was two weeks in reaching a settlement that was said to be friendly to fugitive slaves. Forty miles distant from his old Kentucky home he assumed the name of James Armstrong. The family upon whom he ventured to call appeared very kind, and the man told him he would take him the next day to a Quaker settlement, but he suspected he was reported to Wright Ray and posse, who came into the house and bound him. Placing him on one of their horses, they took him through fields and back roads until they crossed the Ohio river, and lodged him in the Woodford jail, a short distance from the river, nearly opposite Madison, Indiana. Wright Ray had no idea of having in his possession John White, who had so recently eluded his grasp in his unsuccessful trip with Brazier in Michigan. He found among his papers in which were advertisements of escaped slaves, Henry Armstrong advertised as belonging to the widow Armstrong, of Maysville, Kentucky. With her Wright Ray had an interview, hoping to arrange for the reward, which she refused to give, for he had been away so long, he would be of little use, as Henry was willed free at her death. But she told him if he could get enough from him to pay him for his trouble, he might do so. Consequently he made him an offer to release him for four hundred dollars, and encouraged him to write to his friends in Michigan to aid him to that amount. He wrote to a son-in-law of Mr. Watkins, so as not to mention a name of persons the men had to do with in Michigan, and the letter was brought to us. We all understood the writer to be our friend John White.
A few friends were consulted as to the measures to be adopted. It was proposed that I should go to Cincinnati, and there make such arrangements as the friends might think proper. As they proposed to bear my expenses, I said, "If you send me, I shall go to-morrow morning."
"But," replied the bearer of the letter, "as it is the Sabbath, I suppose I should hesitate."
"It was lawful on the Sabbath to lift a sheep out of the ditch in the days of Moses, and is not a man better than a sheep?"
"I can not answer you. All I have to say is, follow the dictates of your own conscience."
I took the stage at Toledo, and in three days I was consulting the vigilance committee in Levi Coffin's council chamber. As it would not do for me to transact business with Wright Ray, Micajah White, nephew of Catherine Coffin, offered to go as soon as the money was obtained. Levi Coffin introduced me to Dr. Judkins, of whom I hired the money, but hoped to lessen the amount if possible, in the arrangement with Wright Ray. I urged on the nephew the necessity of taking the first boat for Madison, as every hour endangered the safety of John White. Whatever was done for him must be done quickly. Wright Ray was found very willing to accept three hundred and fifty dollars, which was placed in the hands of the clerk of the boat until his prisoner was delivered to his friends in Cincinnati, when Micajah White agreed to see the money paid to Wright Ray. This was done, and within three weeks from the time I left home I returned with John White. The day after John's release Brazier appeared at the jail, having heard that he was there. But he was too late.
A few months after John White's release from Woodford jail George W. Brazier went to Baton Rouge, Louisiana, with a gang of slaves for sale, and suddenly died of cholera, just before the time fixed for his return. It was said he intended to make a second effort to capture John White, or to arrest me with United States warrant. Time rolled on, and John F. White married a young woman in Canada, his home a number of years. After the late war he removed to Ann Arbor, Michigan, to educate his children. When we last heard of his first children, his oldest daughter was married to Solomon, the ex-slave of Benjamin Stevens. We rejoice that brighter days are dawning. Ethiopia is stretching out her hands to God.