William and Emma came from Dorchester county, Maryland. The cords of Slavery had been tightly drawn around them. William was about twenty-seven years of age, of a dark hue, and of a courageous bearing. On the score of treatment he spake thus: "I have been treated as bad as a man could be." Emma, his wife, had seen about the same number of years that he had, and her lot had been similar to his. Emma said, "My master never give me the second dress, never attempted such a thing." The master was called Bushong Blake. William was owned by a Mr. Tubman. After leaving Slavery, William changed his last name to Williams, and if he and his wife are now living, they are known only by their adopted names.
Evan Graff was of square solid build, dark, and smart, age twenty-five. He fled in company with four others (whose narratives were not written), from Frederick county, Maryland. Henry Heart, residing at Sam's Creek, exercised authority over Evan. With this master, said Evan, I have known hard times. I have been treated as bad as a man could be. I have been married three years and have not received five dollars in money since, towards supporting my family. "How have you lived then?" inquired one who sympathized. "My wife has kept house for a colored gentleman, and got her board for her services," said Evan. "In what other particulars have you been treated hard?" was next asked. "Sometimes I hadn't half clothes enough to keep me warm, through all weathers," answered Evan. "What put it into your head to leave?" was the third query. "Well, sir," said Evan, "I thought to try and do better." How did you make up your mind to leave your wife and child in Slavery? "Well, sir, I was very loth to leave my wife and child, but I just thought in this way: I had a brother who was entitled to his freedom, but he fell out with one of his young masters, and was just taken up and sold South, and I thought I might be taken off too, so I thought I would stand as good a chance in leaving, as if I stayed." Had you a mother and father, brothers and sisters? inquired a member of the Committee. "Yes, sir," was the prompt reply. Evan then gave their names thus: "My father's name was Sam Graff, my mother's name was Becky." Ruth Ann Dorsey, Isaac Hanson (and two brothers of Evan), Grafton and Allen accompanied him in his flight. James, Harriet, Charles Albert, Thomas Ephraim, Adeline Matilda, John Israel and Daniel Buchanan (brothers and sisters of Evan), were all left in Slavery.
Polly Pool was their mistress, rather had owned them up to within a short time before the flight of Evan and his comrades, but she had lately been unfortunate in business, which resulted in a thorough scattering of the entire family. Some fell into the hands of the mistress' children, and some into the hands of the grandchildren. In Evan's opinion she was a tolerable good mistress; his opportunities of judging, however, had not been very favorable, as he had not been in her hands a great while.
Luke Goines came from Harper's Ferry, where he was owned by Mrs. Carroll. Luke first made his way to Baltimore and afterwards to Philadelphia.
Henson Kelly was owned by Reason Hastell, of Baltimore. Slavery did not agree with him, and he left to better his condition.
Stafford Smith fled from Westmoreland county, Virginia, where he was owned by Harriet Parker, a single woman, advanced in years, and the owner of many slaves "As a mistress, she was very hard. I have been hired to first one and then another, bad man all along. My mistress was a Methodist, but she seemed to know nothing about goodness. She was not in the habit of allowing the slaves any chance at all."
* * * * *
Jenny was about forty-five years of age, a dark mulatto, stature medium, manners modest and graceful; she had served only in high life; thus she had acquired a great deal of information. She stated that she was born a slave, under John Bower, of Rockbridge, Virginia, and that he was the owner of a large plantation, with a great number of slaves. He was considered to be a good man to his servants, and was generally beloved by them. Suddenly, however, he was taken ill with paralysis, which confined him to his bed. During this illness one of the sons, a young gentleman, offered an insult to Jenny, for which she felt justified in administering to him, a severe chastisement. For this grave offence she was condemned to be sold to a trader by the name of William Watts, who owned a place in Mississippi. The conditions of sale were that she was to be taken out of the state and never to be allowed to return. It so happened, however, before she was removed that Watts, the trader, failed in order to cheat his creditors it was supposed. Governor McDowell, of Virginia, was one of those to whom he was largely indebted for a number of slaves which he, the Governor, had placed in his hands for disposal, some time before the trader took the benefit. Therefore, as the Governor was anxious to recover his loss as much as possible, he seized on Jenny. It was through this interference that the condition relative to her being sent out of the state was broken.
"The Governor," said Jenny, "was a very fine gentleman, as good as I could expect of Virginia. He allowed his slaves to raise fowl and hogs, with many privileges of one kind and another; besides he kept them all together; but he took sick and died. There was a great change shortly after that. The slaves were soon scattered like the wind. The Governor had nine sons and daughters.
After his death Mrs. McDowell, alias Mrs. Sally Thomas, took possession, and employed an overseer, by the name of Henry Morgan. He was a very good man in his looks, but a very rascally man; would get drunk, and sell her property to get whisky. Mrs. McDowell would let him do just as he pleased. For the slightest complaint the overseer might see fit to make against any of the slaves, she would tell him to sell them"—"Sell, Mr. Morgan." "He would treat them worse than he would any dog; would beat them over the head with great hickory sticks, the same as he would beat an ox. He would pasture cows and horses on the plantation, and keep the money. We slaves all knew it, and we told her; but our words would not go in court against a white man, and until she was told by Mr. White, and her cousin, Dr. Taylor, and Mr. Barclay, she would not believe how shamefully this overseer was cheating her. But at last she was convinced, and discharged him, and hired another by the name of John Moore. The new one, if anything, was worse than the old one, for he could do the most unblushing acts of cruelty with pleasure. He was a demon."
Finally the estate had to be settled, and the property divided. At this time it was in the hands of the oldest daughter, Mistress Sally, who had been married to Frank Thomas, the Governor of Maryland. But the Governor had discarded her for some reason or other, and according to his published account of her it might seem that he had good reason for doing so. It was understood that he gave her a divorce, so she was considered single for life. It was also understood that she was to buy in the homestead at a moderate price, with as many slaves as she might desire.
Said Jenny, "I was sold at this settlement sale, and bought in by the 'grass widow' for four hundred dollars." The place and a number of slaves were bought in on terms equally as low. After this the widow became smitten with a reverend gentleman, by the name of John Miller, who had formerly lived North; he had been a popular preacher. After a courtship, which did not last very long, they were married. This took place three years ago, prior to the writing of this narrative. After the marriage, Rev. Mr. Miller took up his abode on the old homestead, and entered upon his duties as a slave-holder in good earnest.
"How did you like him?" inquired a member of the Committee.
"I despised him," was Jenny's prompt answer.
"Why did you despise him?"
"Because he had such mean ways with him," said Jenny. She then went on to remark as follows:—"Coming there, taking so much authority over other people's servants. He was so mean that he broke up all the privileges the servants had before he came. He stopped all hands from raising chickens, pigs, etc. He don't like to see them hold up their heads above their shoulders." Didn't he preach? she was asked. "Yes, but I never heard him preach; I have heard him pray though. On Thursday nights, when he would not want the servants to go into town to meeting, he would keep up until it would be too late for them to go. He is now carrying on the farm, and follows butchering. He has not yet sold any of the slaves, but has threatened to sell all hands to the trader."
Jenny once had a husband, but he went to Canada, and that was all she could tell about him, as she had never had a letter or any direct information from him since he left. That she was childless, she regarded as a matter of great satisfaction, considering all the circumstances.
* * * * *
Considering themselves trampled upon by their fellow-men, unitedly resolved to seek a better country.
William was pained with the idea that so much of his time had already been used up, as he was then thirty-six years of age. Yet he thought that it would do no good to mourn over the past, but do what he intended to do quickly. The master whom he had served, he called, "Master Lynchum." He was a farmer, and knew full well how to use severity with the slaves; but had never practiced showing favors, or allowing privileges of any kind. True he did not flog, but he resorted to other means of punishment when he desired to make the slaves feel that he was master. William left his mother, Harriet Brown, three sisters, and one brother,—Francis, Mary, Eliza, and Robert. They were all free but Eliza.
Seven weeks William and James were under the painful anxiety of trying to escape, but conscious of the snares and dangers on the road, and desirous of success, they did not feel at liberty to move, save as they saw their way clear. This well-exercised sagacity was strongly marked in the intellectual region of William's head.
James Henson was a man of rather slender build. From exposure in traveling he took a severe cold and was suffering with sore throat. He and Mrs. Maria Thomas disagreed. She set herself up to be "Jim's" mistress and owner. For some cause or other Jim was unwilling to fill this station longer. He had been hired out by his mistress, who received one hundred dollars per annum; and, for aught Jim knew, she was pretty well pleased with him and the money also. She coolly held eleven others in the same predicament. While Jim found no fault with the treatment received at the hands of his mistress, he went so far as to say that "she was a right fine woman," yet, the longer he lived her slave, the more unhappy he became. Therefore, he decided that he would try and do better, and accordingly, in company with William he started, success attending their efforts. James left three sisters and one brother, Charlotte, Susan, Ellen and Johnson, all slaves.
Philip had a master by the name of John Smith, whom he was very anxious to get rid of, but hardly knew how. For a long time, Philip was annoyed in various ways. Being the only slave on the place, there was no rest for him. Said Smith was a bachelor, and his mother, who kept house for him, was quite aged; "she was worse than the old boy wanted her to be, a more contrary woman never was; she was bad in this way, she was quarrelsome, and then again she would not give you as much to eat as you ought to have, and it was pretty rough; nothing but corn bread and the fattest pork, that was about all. She was a Catholic, and was known by the name of Mary Eliza Smith." This was Philip's testimony against his master and mistress. Working on a farm, driving carriage, etc., had been Philip's calling as a slave. His father and mother were free. His father had been emancipated, and afterwards had purchased his wife. One sister, however, was still in Slavery. Philip had scarcely reached his twenty-second year; he was nevertheless wide-awake and full of courage.
Randolph was still younger; he had only just reached his twentieth year; was nearly six feet high, athletic, and entertained quite favorable notions of freedom. He was owned by Mrs. Caroline Brang, a widow; he had never lived with her, however. Notwithstanding the fact that he had been held in such unpleasant relations, Randolph held the opinion, that "she was a tolerable good woman." He had been hired out under Isaac Howard, a farmer, who was described by Randolph as "a rough man to everybody around him; he was the owner of slaves, and a member of the Methodist Church, in the bargain." As if actuated by an evil spirit continually, he seemed to take delight in "knocking and beating the slaves," and would compel them to "be out in all weathers not fit to be out in." Randolph declared that "he had never been allowed a day's schooling in his life. On the contrary, he had often been threatened with sale, and his mind had finally become so affected by this fearful looking-for of evil, that he thought he had better make tracks."
He left his mother, Louisa, three brothers and three sisters, namely: Andrew, Mary, Charity, Margaret, Lewis and Samuel, all slaves. His desire to escape brought the thought home to his mind with great emphasis, that he was parting with his kinsfolk, to see them perhaps, no more on earth; that however, happily he might be situated in freedom, he would have the painful reflection ever present with him, that those he most loved in this world, were slaves—"knocked and beat about—and made to work out in all weathers." It was this that made many falter and give up their purpose to gain their freedom by flight, but Randolph was not one of this class. His young heart loved freedom too well to waver. True to his love of liberty, he left all, followed the north star, and was delivered.
Thomas, an older companion of Philip and Randolph, was twenty-five years of age, full black, and looked as if he could appreciate the schoolroom and books, and take care of himself in Canada or any other free country. Mary Howard was the name of the individual that he was compelled to address as "mistress." He said, however, that "she was a very good woman to her servants," and she had a great many. She had sons, but they turned out to be drunkards, and followed no business; at one time, each of them had been set up in business, but as they would not attend to it, of course they failed. Money was needed more than ever, through their intemperate course, consequently the mistress was induced to sell her large household, as well as her plantation slaves, to Georgia. Thomas had seen the most of them take up their sorrowful march for said State, and the only reason that he was not among them, was attributable to the fact, that he had once been owned and thought pretty well of by the brother of his mistress, who interceded in Thomas' behalf. This interference had the desired effect, and Thomas was not sold. Still, his eyes were fairly opened to see his danger and to learn a valuable lesson at the same time; he, therefore, profited by it in escaping the first chance. He left his mother Ann Williams, and one brother, James Douglass, both slaves.
* * * * *
Henry affirmed, that for the last twenty years, his freedom had been promised him, and during all these long years, hardly a month had passed, that he had not fixed his hopes upon a definite time, when his bondage would end and his freedom commence. But he had been trusting the word of a slave-holder, who had probably adopted this plan simply with a view of drawing more willing toil out of him than he could have accomplished in any other way.
Mary complained that she had suffered severely for food, and likewise for privileges. Ezra Houpt was the name of Henry's master, and the name of his mistress was Catharine, she was hasty and passionate; slaves were shown no quarter under her. Mary was owned by Christian Thomas. He was said to be not so hard, but his wife was very hard, so much so, that she would rule both master and slaves. Her name was Mary Elizabeth.
Sam Archer was to "become free at thirty-five years of age." He had already served thirty years of this time; five years longer seemed an age to him. The dangers from other sources presented also a frightful aspect. Sam had seen too many who had stood exactly in the same relations to Slavery and freedom, and not a few were held over their time, or cheated out of their freedom altogether. He stated that his own mother was "kept over her time," simply "that her master might get all her children." Two boys and two girls were thus gained, and were slaves for life. These facts tended to increase Sam's desire to get away before his time was out; he, therefore, decided to get off via the Underground Rail Road. He grew very tired of Bell Air, Harford county, Maryland, and his so-called owner, Thomas Hayes. He said that Hayes had used him "rough," and he was "tired of rough treatment." So when he got his plans arranged, one morning when he was expected to go forth to an unrequited day's labor, he could not be found. Doubtless, his excited master thought Sam a great thief, to take himself away in the manner that he did, but Sam was not concerned on this point; all that concerned him was as to how he could get to Canada the safest and the quickest. When he reached the Philadelphia station, he felt that the day dawned, his joy was full, despite the Fugitive Slave Law.
Lewis Peck was a man six feet high, and of the darkest hue. He reported that he fled from Joseph Bryant, a farmer, who lived near Patapsco River. Bryant was in the habit of riding around to look after the slaves. Lewis had become thoroughly disgusted with this manner of superintending. "I got tired of having Bryant riding after me, working my life out of me," said Lewis. He was also tired of Bryant's wife; he said "she was always making mischief, and he didn't like a mischief maker."
Thus he complained of both master and mistress, seeming not to understand that he "had no rights which they were bound to respect."
David Edwards broke away from the above named Bryant, at the age of twenty-four. His testimony fully corroborated that of his comrade, Lewis Peck. He was also a man of the darkest shade, tall, intellect good, and wore a pleasant countenance. The ordinary difficulties were experienced, but all were surmounted without serious harm.
Edward Casting and Joseph Henry were each about seventeen years of age. Boys, as they were, with no knowledge of the world, they had wisely resolved not to remain in that condition. Edward fled from Robert Moore, who lived at Duck Creek. He gave his master the name of being a "bad man," and refused to recommend him for anything. Being a likely-looking chattel, he would have doubtless brought seven hundred dollars in the market.
Joseph Henry came from Queen Ann county, Maryland. He was a well-grown lad, and showed traces of having been raised without proper care, or training. For deficiencies in this direction, he charged Greenberry Parker, his claimant, who he said had treated him "bad." Friends had helped these boys along.
George and Albert White were brothers. They fled from Cecil county, Maryland. They escaped from William Parker. "What kind of a man was William Parker?" they were asked. "He was a big, bad man, no goodness in him," quickly replied one of the brothers. Their lot in Slavery had not been different from that of numbers coming from that section of the State.
Joseph G. Johnson fled from William Jones of Baltimore. He said that his master kept a grocery store in Pratt street, and owned six head of slaves; that he was a "good man, and always treated his servants very well," until about three weeks before he escaped. For some reason unknown to Joseph, within the time just alluded to, he had sold all his slaves, with the exception of himself. Joseph was far from being at ease, as he hourly felt oppressed with the fear that he was to be sold at an early day.
Summoning courage he started by the Baltimore and Wilmington Rail Road. In this way he reached Wilmington where he unfortunately fell into the hands of his master's son, who resided in Wilmington, and happened to discover Joseph in the cars, (most likely he had been telegraphed to) and had him arrested and returned. But Joseph did not allow a week to pass over him before he was ready to make even a still more daring adventure for his liberty. This time he concluded to try the water; by great economy he had saved up twenty-five dollars. This was a great deal to him, but he resolved to give it all willingly to any man who would secrete him, or procure him a passage to Philadelphia. The right man was soon found, and Joseph was off again. Good luck attended him, and he reached the Committee safely. He was in his twenty-third year, a man of medium size, copper-colored, and of a prepossessing countenance.
David Snively ran away from Frederick, Maryland. He was moved to escape solely by the love of freedom. His services had been required in the blacksmith shop, and on the farm under Charles Preston, who claimed to own him. He had been sold once and brought nine hundred dollars; he resolved that a similar fate should never overtake him, unless his owner moved very suddenly in that direction. While Joseph was working daily in the blacksmith shop, he was planning how to make good his escape. No way was open but the old route, which led "hard by" many dangers, and was only accessible now and then through regions where friends were few and far between. Howbeit he possessed the faith requisite, and was victorious.
Joseph was twenty-six years of age, of unmixed blood, ordinary size, and had a commendable share of courage and intellect. He could recommend no good traits as his master's.
Henry Dunmore had served as a slave up to the age of thirty-five, and was then on the eve of being sold. As he had endured severe hardship under his old master John Maldon he was unwilling to try another. While he gave Maldon credit for being a member of the Methodist Church, he charged him with treating himself in a most unchristian-like manner. He testified that Maldon did not allow him half enough to eat; and once he kept him out in the cold until his toes were frozen off. Consequently it was not in the heart of Henry to give his master any other than a bad name. He lived about sixteen miles from Elkton, near Charleston, Maryland. He was of a dark chestnut color, well-made, and active.
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Fight On the Bay THOMAS SIPPLE, and his wife, MARY ANN, HENRY BURKETT, and ELIZABETH, his wife, JOHN PURNELL, and HALE BURTON. This party were slaves, living near Kunkletown, in Worcester county, Maryland, and had become restive in their fetters. Although they did not know a letter of the alphabet, they were fully persuaded that they were entitled to their freedom. In considering what way would be safest for them to adopt, they concluded that the water would be less dangerous than any other route. As the matter of freedom had been in their minds for a long time, they had frequently counted the cost, and had been laying by trifling sums of money which had fallen perchance into their hands. Among them all they had about thirty dollars. As they could not go by water without a boat, one of their number purchased an old batteau for the small sum of six dollars. The Delaware Bay lay between them and the Jersey shore, which they desired to reach. They did not calculate, however, that before leaving the Delaware shore they would have to contend with the enemy. That in crossing, they would lose sight of the land they well understood. They managed to find out the direction of the shore, and about the length of time that it might take them to reach it. Undaunted by the perils before them the party repaired to the bay, and at ten o'clock, P.M. embarked direct for the other shore.
Near Kate's Hammock, on the Delaware shore, they were attacked by five white men in a small boat. One of them seized the chain of the fugitives' boat, and peremptorily claimed it. "This is not your boat, we bought this boat and paid for it," spake one of the brave fugitives. "I am an officer, and must have it," said the white man, holding on to the chain. Being armed, the white men threatened to shoot. Manfully did the black men stand up for their rights, and declare that they did not mean to give up their boat alive. The parties speedily came to blows. One of the white men dealt a heavy blow with his oar upon the head of one of the black men, which knocked him down, and broke the oar at the same time. The blow was immediately returned by Thomas Sipple, and one of the white men was laid flat on the bottom of the boat. The white men were instantly seized with a panic, and retreated; after getting some yards off they snapped their guns at the fugitives several times, and one load of small shot was fired into them. John received two shot in the forehead, but was not dangerously hurt. George received some in the arms, Hale Burton got one about his temple, and Thomas got a few in one of his arms; but the shot being light, none of the fugitives were seriously damaged. Some of the shot will remain in them as long as life lasts. The conflict lasted for several minutes, but the victorious bondmen were only made all the more courageous by seeing the foe retreat. They rowed with a greater will than ever, and landed on a small island. Where they were, or what to do they could not tell. One whole night they passed in gloom on this sad spot. Their hearts were greatly cast down; the next morning they set out on foot to see what they could see. The young women were very sick, and the men were tried to the last extremity; however, after walking about one mile, they came across the captain of an oyster boat. They perceived that he spoke in a friendly way, and they at once asked directions with regard to Philadelphia. He gave them the desired information, and even offered to bring them to the city if they would pay him for his services. They had about twenty-five dollars in all. This they willingly gave him, and he brought them according to agreement. When they found the captain they were not far from Cape May light-house.
Taking into account the fact that it was night when they started, that their little boat was weak, combined with their lack of knowledge in relation to the imminent danger surrounding them, any intelligent man would have been justified in predicting for them a watery grave, long before the bay was half crossed. But they crossed safely. They greatly needed food, clothing, rest, and money, which they freely received, and were afterwards forwarded to John W. Jones, Underground Rail Road agent, at Elmira. The subjoined letter giving an account of their arrival was duly received:
ELMIRA, June 6th, 1860.
FRIEND WM. STILL:—All six came safe to this place. The two men came last night, about twelve o'clock; the man and woman stopped at the depot, and went east on the next train, about eighteen miles, and did not get back till to-night, so that the two men went this morning, and the four went this evening.
O, old master don't cry for me,
For I am going to Canada where colored men are free.
P.S. What is the news in the city? Will you tell me how many you have sent over to Canada? I would like to know. They all send their love to you. I have nothing new to tell you. We are all in good health. I see there is a law passed in Maryland not to set any slaves free. They had better get the consent of the Underground Rail Road before they passed such a thing. Good night from your friend,
JOHN W. JONES.
* * * * *
STEPHEN ENNETS and wife, MARIA, with three children, whose names were as follows: HARRIET, aged six years; AMANDA, four years, and a babe (in the arms of its mother), three months old.
The following letter from Thomas Garrett throws light upon this arrival:
WILMINGTON, 12th mo., 1st, 1860.
RESPECTED FRIEND:—WILLIAM STILL:—I write to let thee know that Harriet Tubman is again in these parts. She arrived last evening from one of her trips of mercy to God's poor, bringing two men with her as far as New Castle. I agreed to pay a man last evening, to pilot them on their way to Chester county; the wife of one of the men, with two or three children, was left some thirty miles below, and I gave Harriet ten dollars, to hire a man with carriage, to take them to Chester county. She said a man had offered for that sum, to bring them on. I shall be very uneasy about them, till I hear they are safe. There is now much more risk on the road, till they arrive here, than there has been for several months past, as we find that some poor, worthless wretches are constantly on the look out on two roads, that they cannot well avoid more especially with carriage, yet, as it is Harriet who seems to have had a special angel to guard her on her journey of mercy, I have hope.
Thy Friend,
THOMAS GARRETT.
N.B. We hope all will be in Chester county to-morrow.
These slaves from Maryland, were the last that Harriet Tubman piloted out of the prison-house of bondage, and these "came through great tribulation."
Stephen, the husband, had been a slave of John Kaiger, who would not allow him to live with his wife (if there was such a thing as a slave's owning a wife.) She lived eight miles distant, hired her time, maintained herself, and took care of her children (until they became of service to their owner), and paid ten dollars a year for her hire. She was owned by Algier Pearcy. Both mother and father desired to deliver their children from his grasp. They had too much intelligence to bear the heavy burdens thus imposed without feeling the pressure a grievous one.
Harriet Tubman being well acquainted in their neighborhood, and knowing of their situation, and having confidence that they would prove true, as passengers on the Underground Rail Road, engaged to pilot them within reach of Wilmington, at least to Thomas Garrett's. Thus the father and mother, with their children and a young man named John, found aid and comfort on their way, with Harriet for their "Moses." A poor woman escaping from Baltimore in a delicate state, happened to meet Harriet's party at the station, and was forwarded on with them. They were cheered with clothing, food, and material aid, and sped on to Canada. Notes taken at that time were very brief; it was evidently deemed prudent in those days, not to keep as full reports as had been the wont of the secretary, prior to 1859. The capture of John Brown's papers and letters, with names and plans in full, admonished us that such papers and correspondence as had been preserved concerning the Underground Rail Road, might perchance be captured by a pro-slavery mob. For a year or more after the Harper's Ferry battle, as many will remember, the mob spirit of the times was very violent in all the principal northern cities, as well as southern ("to save the Union.") Even in Boston, Abolition meetings were fiercely assailed by the mob. During this period, the writer omitted some of the most important particulars in the escapes and narratives of fugitives. Books and papers were sent away for a long time, and during this time the records were kept simply on loose slips of paper.
The father of this family was sixty-five years of age, and his working days were apparently well nigh completed. The mother was fifty-seven years of age; son twenty-seven; daughters seventeen and fifteen years of age.
The old man was smart for his years, but bore evidence that much hard labor had been wrung out of him by Slavery. Diana said that she had been the mother of twelve children; five had escaped to Canada, three were in their graves, and three accompanied her; one was left in Maryland. They had seen hard times, according to the testimony of the old man and his companion, especially under David Snively, who, however, had been "removed by the Lord" a number of years prior to their escape; but the change proved no advantage to them, as they found Slavery no better under their mistress, the widow, than under their master. Mistress Snively was said to be close and stingy, and always unfriendly to the slave. "She never thought you were doing enough." For her hardness of heart they were sure she would repent some time, but not while she could hold slaves. The belief was pretty generally entertained with the slaves that the slaveholder would have to answer for his evil doings in another world.
* * * * *
As a slave, subjected to the whims and passions of his master, Henry made up his mind that he could not stand it longer. The man who mastered it over him was called Nathaniel Dixon, and lived in Somerset Co., near Newtown. This Dixon was not content with his right to flog and abuse Henry as he saw fit, but he threatened to sell him, as he would sell a hog.
At this time Henry was about twenty-four years of age, but a man of more substantial parts physically was rarely to be seen. Courage was one of his prominent traits. This threat only served to arouse him completely. He had no friends save such as were in the same condition with himself, nevertheless he determined not to be sold. How he should escape this fate did not at first present itself. Every thing looked very gloomy; Slavery he considered as death to him; and since his master had threatened him, he looked upon him as his greatest enemy, and rather than continue a slave he preferred living in the swamps with wild animals. Just one year prior to the time that he made his way North, determined not to be a slave any longer, he fled to a swamp and made his way to the most secluded spot that he could find,—to places that were almost impenetrable so dense were the trees and undergrowth. This was all the better for Henry, he wanted to get safety; he did not wish company. He made known his plans to a dear brother, who engaged to furnish him occasionally with food. Henry passed twelve months in this way, beholding no human soul save his brother. His brother faithfully took him food from time to time. The winter weather of 1859 was very hard, but it was not so hard to bear as his master Nathaniel Dixon. The will of Henry's old master entitled him to his freedom, but the heirs had rendered said will null and void; this act in addition to the talk of selling had its effect in driving him to the woods. For a time he hid in the hollow of a tree, which went very hard with him, yet he was willing to suffer anything rather than go back to his so-called master. He managed finally to make good his escape and came to the Committee for aid and sympathy, which he received.
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But few passengers expressed themselves in stronger terms in regard to their so-called masters, than William Pierce, from Long Green. "I fled," said he, "from John Hickol, a farmer, about fifty years old, grey-headed and drinks whiskey very hard—was always a big devil—ill-grained. He owned fifteen head; he owns three of my brothers. He has a wife, a big devil, red head; her servants, she wouldn't feed 'em none, except on corn bread; she would fight and swear too, when she got ready. She and her husband would quarrel too. A slave man, a deceitful fellow, who had been put up to watch on one occasion, when the rest of the slaves had helped themselves to a chicken, and cooked and ate it about midnight, though he was allowed to share a portion of the feast, was ready enough to betray them by times next morning. This made master and mistress 'cuss' all hands at a great rate, and master beat all hands except the one that told. I was caned so badly that it laid me up for several weeks. I am a little lame yet from the beating."
Such was William's story. He was twenty-three years of age, of a light brown color, well-made. Judging from his expressions and apparent feelings against his master and mistress, he would be willing to endure many years of suffering in Canada snows, before he would apply to them for care and protection.
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