In 1854 in company with her so-called Mistress (Mary Moore) Aunt Hannah arrived in Philadelphia, from Missouri, being en route to California, where she with her mistress was to join her master, who had gone there years before to seek his fortune. The mistress having relatives in this city tarried here a short time, not doubting that she had sufficient control over Aunt Hannah to keep her from contact with either abolitionists or those of her own color, and that she would have no difficulty in taking her with her to her journey's end. If such were her calculations she was greatly mistaken. For although Aunt Hannah was destitute of book-learning she was nevertheless a woman of thought and natural ability, and while she wisely kept her counsel from her mistress she took care to make her wants known to an abolitionist. She had passed many years under the yoke, under different owners, and now seeing a ray of hope she availed herself of the opportunity to secure her freedom. She had occasion to go to a store in the neighborhood where she was stopping, and to her unspeakable joy she found the proprietor an abolitionist and a friend who inquired into her condition and proffered her assistance. The store-keeper quickly made known her condition at the Anti-slavery Office, and in double-quick time J.M. McKim and Charles Wise as abolitionists and members of the Vigilance Committee repaired to the stopping-place of the mistress and her slave to demand in the name of humanity and the laws of Pennsylvania that Aunt Hannah should be no longer held in fetters but that she should be immediately proclaimed free. In the eyes of the mistress this procedure was so extraordinary that she became very much excited and for a moment threatened them with the "broomstick," but her raving had no effect on Messrs. McKim and Wise, who did not rest contented until Aunt Hannah was safely in their hands. She had lived a slave in Moore's family in the State of Missouri about ten years and said she was treated very well, had plenty to eat, plenty to wear, and a plenty of work. It was prior to her coming into the possession of Moore that Aunt Hannah had been made to drink the bitter waters of oppression. From this point, therefore, we shall present some of the incidents of her life, from infancy, and very nearly word for word as she related them:
"Moore bought me from a man named McCaully, who owned me about a year. I fared dreadful bad under McCaully. One day in a rage he undertook to beat me with the limb of a cherry-tree; he began at me and tried in the first place to snatch my clothes off, but he did not succeed. After that he beat the cherry-tree limb all to pieces over me. The first blow struck me on the back of my neck and knocked me down; his wife was looking on, sitting on the side of the bed crying to him to lay on. After the limb was worn out he then went out to the yard and got a lath, and he come at me again and beat me with that until he broke it all to pieces. He was not satisfied then; he next went to the fence and tore off a paling, and with that he took both hands, 'cursing' me all the time as hard as he could. With an oath he would say, 'now don't you love me?' 'Oh master, I will pray for you, I would cry, then he would 'cuss' harder than ever.' He beat me until he was tired and quit. I crept out of doors and throwed up blood; some days I was hardly able to creep. With this beating I was laid up several weeks. Another time Mistress McCaully got very angry. One day she beat me as bad as he did. She was a woman who would get very mad in a minute. One day she began scolding and said the kitchen wasn't kept clean. I told her the kitchen was kept as clean as any kitchen in the place; she spoke very angry, and said she didn't go by other folks but she had rules of her own. She soon ordered me to come in to her. I went in as she ordered me; she met me with a mule-rope, and ordered me to cross my hands. I crossed my hands and she tied me to the bedstead. Here her husband said, 'my dear, now let me do the fighting.' In her mad fit she said he shouldn't do it, and told him to stand back and keep out of the way or I will give you the cowhide she said to him. He then 'sot' down in a 'cheer' and looked like a man condemned to be hung; then she whipped me with the cowhide until I sunk to the floor. He then begged her to quit. He said to his wife she has begged and begged and you have whipped her enough. She only raged 'wus;' she turned the butt end of the cowhide and struck me five or six blows over my head as hard as she could; she then throwed the cowhide down and told a little girl to untie me. The little girl was not able to do it; Mr. McCaully then untied me himself. Both times that I was beat the blood run down from my head to my feet.
"They wouldn't give you anything to eat hardly. McCaully bore the name of coming by free colored children without buying them, and selling them afterwards. One boy on the place always said that he was free but had been kidnapped from Arkansas. He could tell all about how he was kidnapped, but could not find anybody to do anything for him, so he had to content himself.
"McCaully bought me from a man by the name of Landers. While in Landers' hands I had the rheumatism and was not able to work. He was afraid I was going to die, or he would lose me, and I would not be of any service to him, so he took and traded me off for a wagon. I was something better when he traded me off; well enough to be about. My health remained bad for about four years, and I never got my health until Moore bought me. Moore took me for a debt. McCaully owed Moore for wagons. I was not born in Missouri but was born in Virginia. From my earliest memory I was owned by Conrad Hackler; he lived in Grason County. He was a very poor man, and had no other slave but me. He bought me before I was quite four years old, for one hundred dollars. Hackler bought me from a man named William Scott. I must go back by good rights to the beginning and tell all: Scott bought me first from a young man he met one day in the road, with a bundle in his arms. Scott, wishing to know of the young man what he had in his bundle, was told that he had a baby. 'What are you going to do with it?' said Scott. The young man said that he was going to take it to his sister; that its mother was dead, and it had nobody to take care of it. Scott offered the young man a horse for it, and the young man took him up. This is the way I was told that Scott came by me. I never knowed anything about my mother or father, but I have always believed that my mother was a white woman, and that I was put away to save her character; I have always thought this. Under Hackler I was treated more like a brute than a human being. I was fed like the dogs; had a trough dug out of a piece of wood for a plate. After I growed up to ten years old they made me sleep out in an old house standing off some distance from the main house where my master and mistress lived. A bed of straw and old rags was made for me in a big trough called the tan trough (a trough having been used for tanning purposes). The cats about the place came and slept with me, and was all the company I had. I had to work with the hoe in the field and help do everything in doors and out in all weathers. The place was so poor that some seasons he would not raise twenty bushels of corn and hardly three bushels of wheat. As for shoes I never knowed what it was to have a pair of shoes until I was grown up. After I growed up to be a woman my master thought nothing of taking my clothes off, and would whip me until the blood would run down to the ground. After I was twenty-five years old they did not treat me so bad; they both professed to get religion about that time; and my master said he would never lay the weight of his finger on me again. Once after that mistress wanted him to whip me, but he didn't do it, nor never whipped me any more. After awhile my master died; if they had gone according to law I would have been hired out or sold, but my mistress wanted to keep me to carry on the place for her support. So I was kept for seven or eight years after his death. It was understood between my mistress, and her children, and her friends, who all met after master died, that I was to take care of mistress, and after mistress died I should not serve anybody else. I done my best to keep my mistress from suffering. After a few years they all became dissatisfied, and moved to Missouri. They scattered, and took up government land. Without means they lived as poor people commonly live, on small farms in the woods. I still lived with my mistress. Some of the heirs got dissatisfied, and sued for their rights or a settlement; then I was sold with my child, a boy."
Thus Aunt Hannah reviewed her slave-life, showing that she had been in the hands of six different owners, and had seen great tribulation under each of them, except the last; that she had never known a mother's or a father's care; that Slavery had given her one child, but no husband as a protector or a father. The half of what she passed through in the way of suffering has scarcely been hinted at in this sketch. Fifty-seven years were passed in bondage before she reached Philadelphia. Under the good Providence through which she came in possession of her freedom, she found a kind home with a family of Abolitionists, (Mrs. Gillingham's), whose hearts had been in deep sympathy with the slave for many years. In this situation Aunt Hannah remained several years, honest, faithful, and obliging, taking care of her earnings, which were put out at interest for her by her friends. Her mind was deeply imbued with religious feeling, and an unshaken confidence in God as her only trust; she connected herself with the A.M.E. Bethel Church, of Philadelphia, where she has walked, blameless and exemplary up to this day. Probably there is not a member in that large congregation whose simple faith and whose walk and conversation are more commendable than Aunt Hannah's. Although she has passed through so many hardships she is a woman of good judgment and more than average intellect; enjoys good health, vigor, and peace of mind in her old days, with a small income just sufficient to meet her humble wants without having to live at service. After living in Philadelphia for several years, she was married to a man of about her own age, possessing all her good qualities; had served a life-time in a highly respectable Quaker family of this city, and had so won the esteem of his kind employer that at his death he left him a comfortable house for life, so that he was not under the necessity of serving another. The name of the recipient of the good Quaker friend's bounty and Aunt Hannah's companion, was Thomas Todd. After a few years of wedded life, Aunt Hannah was called upon to be left alone again in the world by the death of her husband, whose loss was mourned by many friends, both colored and white, who knew and respected him.
Those who were interested in the Anti-Slavery cause, and who kept posted with reference to the frequent cases of kidnapping occurring in different Free States, especially in Pennsylvania, during the twenty years previous to emancipation, cannot fail to remember the kidnapping of Rachel and Elizabeth Parker, and the murder of Joseph C. Miller, who resided in West Nottingham township, Chester county, Pennsylvania, in the latter part of 1851, and the beginning of 1852.
Both the kidnapping and the murder at the time of the occurrence shocked and excited the better thinking and humane classes largely, not only in Pennsylvania, but to a considerable extent over the Northern States. It may be said, without contradiction, that Chester county, at least, was never more aroused by any one single outrage that had taken place within her borders, than by these occurrences. For a long while the interest was kept alive, and even as lately as the past year (1870), we find the case still agitating the citizens of Chester county. Judge Benjamin I. Passmore, of said county, in defence of truth in an exhaustive article published in the "Village Record," West Chester, Oct. 12th, 1870, gives a reliable version of the matter, from beginning to end, which we feel constrained to give in full, as possessing great historical value, bearing on kidnapping in general, especially in Pennsylvania.
TOM M'CREARY.
FRIEND EVANS:—I noticed in the "Village Record," a short time since, an article taken from the Delaware "Transcript," an obituary notice of the death of the noted character, whose name heads this article, in which false statements were made, relative to the outrage he committed in kidnapping Rachel and Elizabeth Parker, two colored girls who were then, 1851, residing in the southern portion of Chester county. In your paper of the 13th ult., I also read an answer to the charges and insinuations made in the "Transcript," against Joseph C. Miller, (whose life was basely destroyed), and other citizens of Chester county; as the occurrence took place in my immediate neighborhood, and I was familiar with all the facts and circumstances, I propose to give a truthful history of that vile and wicked transaction.
In the winter of 1851, the said McCreary in some unexplained way, took Elizabeth Parker, one of the said colored girls, from the house of one Donally (not McDonald), in the township of East Nottingham, where she was living; but little was said about it by Donally, or any one else. Soon after, McCreary with two or three others of like proclivities, called at the house of Joseph C. Miller, in West Nottingham, where Rachel was living, and seized her, gagged her, and placed her in a carriage and drove off. The screams of Mrs. Miller and her children, soon brought the husband and father to the rescue; he pursued them on foot, and at a short distance overtook them in a narrow private road, disputing with James Pollock, the owner of the land, whose wagon prevented them from passing. They turned and took another road, and came out at Stubb's Mill, making for the Maryland line with all possible speed; they arrived at Perryville before the train for Baltimore. Eli Haines and a young man named Wiley, who lived near Rising Sun, Maryland, about two miles from Joseph C. Miller's, arrived at the same place soon after, intending to go to Philadelphia. Mr. Haines knew Rachel, and seeing McCreary there, and her so overwhelmed in sorrow, at once guessed the situation of affairs, and he and Wiley changed their intentions of going to Philadelphia, and went in the same car with McCreary and his victim, to Baltimore, and quietly watched what disposition would be made of her, as they felt certain pursuit would be made.
As soon as possible, after McCreary had escaped from West Nottingham, Joseph C. Miller, William Morris, Abner Richardson, Jesse B. Kirk, and H.G. Coates, started in pursuit on horseback; when they arrived at Perryville, the train had gone, with the kidnapper and the girl; they followed in the next train. Soon after they arrived in Baltimore, they were met by Haines and Wiley, who had been on the lookout for a pursuing party, and they gave the information that Rachel was deposited in Campbell's slave-pen. They were directed by an acquaintance of one of the party, to Francis S. Cochran, a prominent member of the Society of Friends. Francis informed them he was well acquainted with Campbell, and he at once accompained them. Campbell assured Friend Cochran that whilst he approved of Slavery and catching runaway slaves, he despised kidnapping and kidnappers; and on the arrival of McCreary, he ordered him to remove Rachel forthwith, which he proceeded to do. Friend Cochran insisted on going with them, and saw the girl deposited in jail to await a legal investigation. By this time it was evening, and the Chester county men all went home with Cochran, where they had their suppers; the excitement being great, Friend Cochran did not consider it safe for them to go to the depot direct; he procured their tickets and had them driven by a circuitous route to the depot, charging them to keep together, and take their seats in the cars at once. Soon after they were seated and before the cars started, Miller stepped out on the platform to smoke, against the expostulations of his friends. Jesse B. Kirk, his brother-in-law and Abner Richardson followed immediately, and although they were right at his heels, he was gone; they called him by name, and stepped down into the crowd, but soon became alarmed for their own safety, and returned to their seats. A consultation was held, and it was agreed that Wiley, who was least known, and not directly identified with the affair, should pass through the train when it started, and see if Miller had not mistakenly got into another car. At Stemen's Run station, Wiley returned to the party with the sad tidings that Joseph C. Miller was not in that train. On consultation, it was agreed that Jesse B. Kirk and Abner Richardson should return from Perryville in the next train, and prosecute further search for Miller. They did so return, and McCreary also returned to Baltimore in the same car, he having left Baltimore in the car in the evening with the Chester county men; they arrived late in the night, and locked themselves up in a room in the first hotel they came to. Their search was fruitless, and they were forced to return home with the sad tidings that Miller could not be found. This intelligence aroused the whole neighborhood; public meetings were held to consult about what was best to be done. The writer presided at one of those meetings, which was largely attended, and it was with difficulty that the people could be restrained from organizing an armed force to kidnap and lynch McCreary. Better counsels, however, finally prevailed and it was resolved to send a party to Baltimore to prosecute further the search for Miller. About twenty men volunteered for the service; I went to the house of Joseph C. Miller, the morning they were to start, but they had met at Lewis Mellrath's, a brother-in-law of Miller. I was there endeavoring to console the aged mother and distracted wife and children of Joseph C. Miller, when word came that he had been found hanging to a limb in the bushes near Stemen's Run station, and such a scene of distress I hope may never again be my lot to witness; it was heart-rending in the extreme.
The party went to Baltimore, and such was the excitement that it was considered unsafe for the party to go out in a body in day-time. Levi K. Brown, who then resided in Baltimore, went with them by moonlight, and they disinterred the body, which they found about two feet under ground, in a rough box, with a narrow lid that freely admitted the dirt to surround his body in the box. No undertaker in Baltimore could be found that would allow the body left at his place of business whilst a coffin was prepared, and it was deposited in "Friends'" vault; a coffin was finally procured and William Morris and Abner Richardson started with it for his home. When they arrived at Perryville no one would render them any assistance, and they were compelled to leave the corpse in an old saw mill, and walk up to Port Deposit, a distance of five miles, in the night, the weather being extremely cold, and a deep snow on the ground. There they procured horses and a sled and started with the body, but when within a short distance of the Pennsylvania line they were overtaken by a messenger with a requisition from the Governor of Maryland to return the body to Baltimore county, in order that an inquisition and post-mortem examination might be held in legal form. With sorrowful hearts they turned back; (one of these young men told me that at no place south of Port Deposit could they get any one to assist them in handling the corpse). By this time the affair had created a great excitement, both in Chester county and the City of Baltimore. Rev. John M. Dickey, Hon. Henry S. Evans, then a member of the Senate. Brinton Darlington, then Sheriff of Chester county, and very many of the leading men took a deep interest in the matter; we all did our part. The Society of Friends in Baltimore took the matter in hand, and many other worthy citizens belonging to the Presbyterian Church and others lent their aid and influence. Hon. Henry S. Evans, who was then in the Senate of Pennsylvania, brought the matter before the Legislature, and the result was that the Governor appointed Judges Campbell and Bell, the latter of our county, to defend these two poor colored girls thus foully kidnapped.
The body of Miller underwent a post-mortem examination in Baltimore county, at which a great number of rowdies attended, who occupied their time drinking whisky and cursing the Pennsylvania Abolitionists; the body finally reached its distressed home for interment. Drs. Hutchinson and Dickey were called upon to make an examination, at which I was present, and all were clearly of opinion that he had been foully murdered. His wrists and ankles bore the unmistakable marks of manacles; across the abdomen was a black mark as if made by a rope or cord; the end of his nose bore marks as if held by some instrument of torture. His funeral took place, and his remains were followed to the grave by an immense concourse of sympathizing friends and neighbors.
Such, however, was the excitement, that the public demanded a further examination; he was disinterred again, and the same two eminent physicians made a thorough post-mortem examination, and one of them told the writer that there were not two ounces of contents in his stomach and bowels, and that there was abundant evidence of the presence of arsenic. His remains were again interred and suffered to remain undisturbed.
The theory of his friends was that he had been suddenly snatched from the platform of the car in the Baltimore Depot, gagged, stripped, and lashed down by the ankles and wrists, and a rope across his abdomen, that his nose had been held by some instrument, and that he was in this situation drenched with arsenic, and puked and purged to death, and that McCreary, or some one for him, had heard Wiley repeat at Stemen's Run Station, that he was not on the train, conceived the idea of taking his body there and hanging it to a tree to convey the idea that he had committed suicide at that place, and such was the statement published by some of the Maryland newspapers. His companions said he eat a very hearty supper that evening at Francis S. Cochran's, which with the other facts that his clothing were not soiled, and his stomach and bowels were empty, goes strongly to substantiate the theory that he had been stripped and foully murdered, as above indicated. Never was there a more false assertion than that the "broad brimmed Quakers in Pennsylvania were accomplices of McCreary," as it is well known that opposition to slavery has been a cardinal principle of the Society of Friends for a century. And that Joseph C. Miller committed suicide because of his being implicated in the kidnapping is a base fabrication. I knew Joseph C. Miller from boyhood intimately, and I here take pleasure in saying that he was an honest, unassuming man, of good moral character and stern integrity, and would have spurned the idea of any complication, directly or indirectly, with slavery or kidnapping.
It appears his foul murder was not sufficient to satisfy the friends of slavery and kidnapping, but an attempt is now made, after the victim has slumbered near twenty years in the grave, to blast his good name by insinuating that he was a party, or implicated in the vile transactions here narrated.
Rachel remained in jail; Elizabeth, who had been sold to parties in New Orleans, was sent for by Campbell, ample security having been given that she should be returned if proved to be a slave. Their trial finally came on, and after a long and tedious investigation they were both proven, by hosts of respectable witnesses to be free. They returned to their mother, in Chester county, who was still living.
The Grand Jury of Chester county found a true bill against McCreary for kidnapping, a requisition was obtained, and B. Darlington, Esq., then High Sheriff, proceeded with it to Annapolis; but the Governor of Maryland refused to allow McCreary to be arrested in that State.
Thus terminated this terrible affair, which cost the State of Pennsylvania nearly $3000, as well as a heavy expense to many citizens of Baltimore, and those of this county who took an active part, and whilst it is to be hoped that the principal actor in this sad transaction fully atoned for his evil deeds, whilst living, and his friends may have had a right to eulogize him after death, they should not have gone out of their way to traduce other parties, dead and alive, whose reputations were known by living witnesses, to be beyond reproach.
JUSTICE.
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Tucker reported that he fled from Major Isaac Roney, of Dinwiddie Court-House, Virginia, in the Christmas week prior to his arrival; that he reached Petersburg and then encountered difficulties of the most trying nature; he next stopped at City Point, and was equally unfortunate there. From exposure in the cold he was severely frost-bitten. While suffering from the frost he was kept in the poor-house. After partial recovery he made his way to Baltimore and thence to Philadelphia. Once or twice he was captured and carried back. The Committee suspected that he was a cunning impostor who had learned how to tell a tale of suffering simply to excite the sympathies of the benevolent; yet, with the map of Virginia before them, he proved himself familiar with localities adjacent to the neighborhood in which he was raised. Although not satisfied with his statement, the Committee decided to aid him.
Passmore Williamson, who had taken a deep interest in the examination of his case, in order to ascertain the facts, addressed the following note to Major Roney, using as his signature the name of his friend, Wm. J. Canby:
PHILADELPHIA, June 24, 1854.
MAJOR ISAAC RONEY:
DEAR SIR:—Within a few days past a colored man has been traversing the streets of this city, exciting the sympathies of the benevolent by the recital of a tale of the hardships he has lately passed through. He represents himself to be Tucker White, your slave, a carpenter by trade, and that he escaped from your service last Christmas. He is quite dark in complexion, rather over the medium size, and a little lame; the latter, probably, from the effects of frost on his feet, from which, he alleges, he suffered severely.
He seems to be well acquainted with the adjoining localities, but altogether his narrative is almost incredible, and I am therefore induced to make the inquiry whether such a man has escaped from your service or lately left your neighborhood. We are perfectly flooded with such vagrants. It would be a great relief if some measures could be resorted to to keep them under legal restraint. An answer addressed to No. 73 South 4th Street, above Walnut, will reach me, and oblige, Yours, &c.
WM. J. CANBY.
Weeks passed, but no answer came from the Major. All hope was abandoned of obtaining a more satisfactory clue to the history of Tucker White. About three months, however, after Mr. Williamson had written, the appended note came as an answer:
MR. CANBY:
Major Roney received a letter from you relative to his boy, Tucker White, and has sent me here to inquire of you his whereabouts now. If you know anything concerning him and will give me such information so I can get him, you will be rewarded for your trouble. You will please address,
No. 147 American Hotel.
The Major would have sent on sooner but he has been sick, and the letter laid in Office several days.
Mr. Canby was at the time ill, and no attention was paid to the communication. After a day's delay the following note came to hand, but, as in the former instance, no answer was returned.
MR. CANBY:
You will confer a great favor on me by writing me whether you were really the author of a letter to Major Isaac Roney, of Dinwiddie Court House, Va., relative to his boy Tucker White, and if you were the author, please let me know when you last saw him, and where. I called at your office yesterday to see you, but your cousin (I think he said he was) told me you had the cholera, and if you felt well enough you were going to the country to-morrow. I hope you will excuse my writing to you to-day, on that account. I would not know where to direct a letter if I were to wait until to-morrow. If you know anything concerning him and will let me know it, so that I can find and arrest him, you will very much oblige
Yours, &c.,
I.M. TUCKER.
No. 147 American Hotel.
Please write me an answer to-day, so I may know how to proceed to-morrow. If I find him I will be very happy to see you before I leave in behalf of Major Roney, in whose business I am now engaged. I.M.T.
Some one, however, who had a hand in the first letter, referred the Major to Passmore Williamson, Seventh and Arch Streets. To Mr. Williamson's surprise the individual who had addressed Mr. C. appeared at his office with the identical letter in his hand that had been addressed him by Mr. W. (with W.J.C.'s signature.) On addressing Mr. W. he held out the letter and inquired: "Are you the author of this letter, sir?" Mr. W. looked at it and remarked that it appeared to have been written by a man named Canby. "My name is Williamson, but if you will walk in and take a seat I will attend to you in a few moments." Accordingly, after occupying a little time in adjusting some papers, he signified to the stranger that he was ready to answer any of his questions. Said Mr. W., "I say frankly that I am the author of that letter." He then paused for a reply. The stranger then said, "I have come from Virginia in behalf of Major Roney, in search of his boy, Tucker White; the Major was very anxious to recover him, and he would gladly reward Mr. W. or anybody else who would aid him in the matter." He then asked Mr. W. if he knew anything of his whereabouts. Mr. W. replied: "I do not at present; for a long time I have heard nothing of him. I must tell you that I am very sorry that Major Roney gave himself the trouble to send all the way to Philadelphia to re-capture his 'boy Tucker White,' and with regard to giving information or assistance, I know of but one or two men in this city who would be mean enough to stoop to do such dirty work. Geo. F. Alberti, a notorious kidnapper, and E.D. Ingraham, equally as notorious as a counsel of slave-hunters whom everybody here despises, might have served you in this matter. I know no others to recommend; if anybody can find the 'boy,' they can. But should they find him they will be obliged to take legal steps in arresting him before they can proceed. In such a case, instead of assisting Major Roney, I should feel bound to assist Tucker White by throwing every obstacle that I possibly could in the way of his being carried back to Virginia; and to close the matter I wish it to be understood that I do not desire to hold any further correspondence with Major Roney, of Dinwiddie, Virginia, about his 'boy,' Tucker White."
Mary Millburn Neither in personal appearance, manners, nor language, were any traces of the Peculiar Institution visible in Mary Millburn. On the contrary, she represented a young lady, with a passable education, and very refined in her deportment. She had eaten the white bread of Slavery, under the Misses Chapman, and they had been singularly kind to her, taking special pains with her in regard to the company she should keep, a point important to young girls, so liable to exposure as were the unprotected young females of the South. She being naturally of a happy disposition, obliging, competent, there was but little room for any jars in the household, so far as Mary was concerned. Notwithstanding all this, she was not satisfied; Slavery in its most dreaded aspect, was all around her, continually causing the heart to bleed and eyes to weep of both young and old. The auction-block and slave-pen were daily in view. Young girls as promising as herself, she well knew, had to be exposed, examined, and sold to the vilest slave-holders living.
With her knowledge of the practical wickedness of the system, how could she be satisfied? It was impossible! She determined to escape. She could be accommodated, but with no favored mode of travel. No flowery beds of ease could be provided in her case, any more than in the case of others. Mary took the Underground Rail Road enterprise into consideration. The opportunity of a passage on a steamer was before her to accept or refuse. The spirit of freedom dictated that she should accept the offer and leave by the first boat. Admonished that she could reach the boat and also travel more safely in male attire she at once said, "Any way so I succeed." It is not to be supposed for a moment, that the effort could be made without encountering a great "fight of affliction." When the hour arrived for the boat to start, Mary was nicely secreted in a box (place), where she was not discovered when the officers made their usual search. On arriving in Philadelphia, she mingled her rejoicings with the Committee in testifying to the great advantage of the Underground Rail Road, and to the carefulness of its agents in guarding against accidents. After remaining a short time in Philadelphia, she made choice of Boston as her future residence, and with a letter of introduction to William Lloyd Garrison, she proceeded thitherward. How she was received, and what she thought of the place and people, may be gleaned from this letter (written by herself.)
BOSTON, May 15th, 1858.
DEAR FRIEND:—I have selected this oppotunity to write you a few lines, hopeing thay may find you and yours enjoying helth and happiness. I arrived hear on Thirsday last, and had a lettor of intoduction giving to me by one of the gentlemen at the Antoslavery office in New York, to Mr. Garrison in Boston, I found him and his lady both to bee very clever. I stopped with them the first day of my arrivel hear, since that Time I have been living with Mrs. Hilliard I have met with so menny of my acquaintances hear, that I all most immagion my self to bee in the old country. I have not been to Canaday yet, as you expected. I had the pleasure of seeing the lettor that you wrote to them on the subject. I suffered much on the road with head ake but since that time I have no reason to complain, please do not for git to send the degarritips in the Shaimpain basket with Dr. Lundys, Mr. Lesley said he will send them by express, tell Julia kelly, that through mistake, I took one of her pocket handkerchift, that was laying on the table, but I shall keep it in remembranc of the onner. I must bring my lettor to a close as I have nothing more to say, and believe me to be your faithfull friend.
LOUISA P. JONES.
P.S. Remember me to each, and every member of your familly and all Enquiring Friends.
Being of an industrious turn she found a situation immediately, and from that day to the present, she has sustained an excellent character in every respect, and as a fashionable dressmaker does a good business.
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About the 4th of July, 1856, a message reached the Secretary that a schooner containing fifteen Underground Rail Road passengers, from Norfolk, Virginia, would be landed near League Island, directly at the foot of Broad street, that evening at a late hour, and a request accompanied the message, to the effect that the Committee would be on hand to receive them. Accordingly the Secretary procured three carriages, with trustworthy drivers, and between ten and eleven o'clock at night arrived on the banks of the Schuylkill, where all was quiet as a "country grave-yard." The moon was shining and soon the mast of a schooner was discovered. No sign of any other vessel was then in sight. On approaching the bank, in the direction of the discovered mast, the schooner was also discovered. The hearts of those on board were swelling with unutterable joy; yet even at that dead hour of night, far away from all appearance of foes, no one felt at liberty to give vent to his feelings other than in a whisper. The name of the captain and schooner being at once recognized, the first impulse was to jump down on the deck. Upon second view it was seen that the descent was too great to admit of such a feat. In a moment we concluded that we could pull them up the embankment from the deck by taking hold of their hands as they stood on tip toe.
One after another was pulled up, and warmly greeted, until it came the turn of a large object, weighing about two hundred and sixty pounds, full large enough to make two ordinary women. The captain, who had experienced much inconvenience with her on the voyage, owing to the space she required chuckled over the fact that the Committee would have their hands full for once. Poor Mrs. Walker, however, stretched out her large arms, we seized her hands vigorously; the captain laughing heartily as did the other passengers at the tug now being made. We pulled with a will, but Mrs. Walker remained on the deck. A one horse power was needed. The pullers took breath, and again took hold, this time calling upon the captain to lay-to a helping hand; the captain prepared to do so, and as she was being raised, he having a good foot-hold, placed himself in a position for pushing to the full extent of his powers, and thus she was safely landed. All being placed in the carriages, they were driven to the station and comfortably provided for.
On the voyage they had encountered more than the usual dangers. Indeed troubles began with them before they had set sail from Norfolk. The first indication of danger manifested itself as they stood on the bank of the river awaiting the arrival of a small boat which had been engaged to row them to the schooner. Although they had sought as they supposed a safe place, sufficiently far from the bounds usually traversed by the police; still, in the darkness, they imagined they heard watchmen coming. Just on the edge of the river, opposite where they were waiting, a boat under repairs was in the stocks. In order to evade the advancing foe, they all marched into the river, the water being shallow, and with the vessel for a breastwork hiding them from the shore, there they remained for an hour and a half. They were thoroughly soaked if nothing more. However, about ten o'clock a small oyster boat came to their relief, and all were soon placed aboard the schooner, which was loaded with corn, etc. All, with the exception of the large woman above referred to, and one other female, were required to enter a hole apparently leading through the bottom of the boat, but in reality only a department which had been expressly constructed for the Underground Rail Road business, at the expense of the captain, and in accordance with his own plan.
The entrance was not sufficiently large to admit Mrs. Walker, so she with another female who was thought "too fat" to endure the close confinement, was secreted behind some corn back of the cabin, a place so secluded that none save well-experienced searchers would be likely to find it. In this way the Captain put out to sea. After some fifteen hours he deemed it safe to bring his passengers up on deck where they could inhale pure air which was greatly needed, as they had been next-door to suffocation and death. The change of air had such an effect on one of the passengers (Scott) that, in his excitement, he refused to conform to the orders required; for prudential reasons the Captain, threatened to throw him over-board. Whereupon Scott lowered his tone. Before reaching the lock the Captain supposing that they might be in danger from contact with boats, men, etc., again called upon them "to go into their hole" under the deck. Not even the big woman was excused now. She pleaded that she could not get through, her fellow-sufferers said that she must be got through urging the matter on the ground that they would have great danger to face. The big woman again tried to effect an entrance, but in vain. Said one of the more resolute sisters "she must take off her clothes then, it will never do to have her staying up on deck to betray all the rest;" thus this resolute stand being unanimous, the poor woman had to comply, and except a single garment she was as destitute of raiment as was Mother Eve before she induced Adam to eat of the forbidden fruit in the garden of Eden. With the help of passengers below, she was squeezed through, but not without bruising and breaking the skin considerably where the rub was severest. All were now beneath the deck, the well-fitting oil-cloth was put over the hole covering the cabin-floor snugly, and a heavy table was set over the hole. They are within sight of the lock, but no human beings are visible about the schooner save the Captain, the mate and a small boy, the son of the Captain. At the lock not unexpectedly three officers came on board of the boat and stopped her. The Captain was told that they had received a telegraphic dispatch from Norfolk to the effect that his boat was suspected of having slaves secreted thereon. They talked with the Captain and mate separately for a considerable while, and more closely did they examine the boy, but gained no information except that "the yellow-fever had been raging very bad in Norfolk." At this fever-news the officers were not a little alarmed, and they now lost no time in attending to their official errand. They searched the cabin where the two fat women were first secreted, and other parts of the boat pretty thoroughly. They then commenced taking up the hatchways, but the place seemed so shockingly perfumed with foul air that the men started back and declared that nobody could live in such a place, and swore that it smelt like the yellow-fever; the Captain laughed at them, and signified that they were perfectly welcome to search to their hearts' content. The officers concluded that there were no slaves on that boat, that nobody could live there, etc., etc., asked for their charges ($3), and discharged the Captain. The children had been put under the influence of liquor to keep them still, so they made no noise; the others endured their hour of agony patiently until the lock was safely passed, and the river reached. Fresh air was then allowed them, and the great danger was considered overcome. The Captain, however, far from deeming it advisable to land his live cargo at the wharves of Philadelphia, delivered them at League Island. The passengers testified that Captain B. was very kind. They were noticed thus:
Isaac, was about fifty years of age, dark, tall, well-made, intelligent, and was owned by George Brown, who resided at Deep Creek. Isaac testified that said Brown had invariably treated him cruelly. For thirty years Isaac had hired his time, found himself in food, clothing, and everything, yet as he advanced in years, neither his task, nor his hire was diminished, but on the contrary his hire of late years had been increased. He winced under the pressure, and gave himself up to the study of the Underground Rail Road. While arrangements for fleeing were pending, he broke the secret to his wife, Polly, in whom he trusted; she being true to freedom, although sorrowing to part with him, threw no obstacle in his way. Besides his wife, he had also two daughters, Amanda A. and Mary Jane, both slaves. Nevertheless, having made up his mind not to die a slave, he resolved to escape at all hazards.
Henderson belonged to the estate of A. Briggs, which was about to be settled, and knowing that he was accounted on the inventory as personal property, he saw that he too would be sold with the rest of the movables, if he was not found among the missing.
He began to consider what he had endured as a slave, and came to the conclusion that he had had a "rugged road to hoe all the way along" and that he might have it much worse if he waited to be sold. The voice of reason admonished him to escape for his life. In obeying this call he suffered the loss of his wife, Julia, and two children, who were fortunately free. Henderson was about thirty-one years of age, stout, and of healthy appearance, worth in cash perhaps $1200.
William was thirty-four years of age, of a chestnut color, substantial physical structure, and of good faculties. The man who professed to own him he called William Taylor, and "he was a very hard man, one of the kind which could not be pleased, nor give a slave a pleasant answer one time in fifty." Being thoroughly sick of William Taylor, he fell in love with the Underground Rail Road and Canada.
Mrs. Walker, the big fat woman, was thirty-eight years of age, and a pleasant-looking person, of a very dark hue. Besides the struggles already alluded to, she was obliged to leave her husband. Of her master she declared that she could "say nothing good." His name was Arthur Cooper, of Georgetown; she had never lived with him, however; for twenty years she had hired her time, paying five dollars per month. When young she scarcely thought of the gross wrongs that were heaped upon her; but as she grew older, and thought more about her condition, she scouted the idea that God had designed her to be a slave, and decided that she would be one to leave Dixey in the first Underground Rail Road train that might afford her the chance. She determined not to remain even for the sake of her husband, who was a slave. With such a will, therefore, she started. Upon leaving Philadelphia, she went with the most of her company to Boston, and thence to New Bedford, where she was living when last heard from.
Rebecca Lewey was the wife of a man, who was familiarly known by the name of "Blue Beard," his proper name being Henry Lewey. For a long time, although a slave himself, he was one of the most dexterous managers in the Underground Rail Road agency in Norfolk. No single chapter in this work could be more interesting than a chapter of his exploits in this respect.
The appearing of Mrs. Lewey, was a matter of unusual interest. Although she had worn the yoke, she was gentle in her manners, and healthy-looking, so much so that no life insurance agent would have had need to subject her to medical examination before insuring her. She was twenty-eight years of age, but had never known personal abuse as a slave; she was none the less anxious, however, to secure her freedom. Her husband, Blue Beard, judging from certain signs, that he was suspected by slave-holders, and might at any time be caged, (indeed he had recently been in the lions' den, but got out); in order to save his wife, sent her on in advance as he had decided to follow her soon in a similar manner. Rebecca was not without hope of again meeting her husband. This desire was gratified before many months had passed, as he was fortunate enough to make his way to Canada.
Mary Knight was a single woman, twenty-six years of age, dark, stout, and of pleasing manners; she complained of having been used hard.
Sarah Saunders had been claimed as the property of Richard Gatewood, a clerk in the naval service. According to Sarah he was a very clever slave-holder, and had never abused her. Nor was she aware that he had ever treated any of his servants cruelly. Sarah, however, had not lived in Gatewood's immediate family, but had been allowed to remain with her grandmother, rather as a privileged character. She was young, fair, and prepossessing. Having a sister living in Philadelphia, who was known to the agent in Norfolk, Sarah was asked one day if she would not like to see her sister. She at once answered "Yes." After further conversation the agent told her that if she would keep the matter entirely private, he would arrange for her to go by the Underground Rail Road. Being willing and anxious to go, she promised due obedience to the rules; she was not told, however, how much she would have to pass through on the way, else, according to her own admission, she never would have come as she did; her heart would have failed her. But when the goal was gained, like all others, she soon forgot her sufferings, and rejoiced heartily at getting out of Slavery, even though her condition had not been so bad as that of many others.
Sophia Gray, with her son and daughter, Henry and Mary, was from Portsmouth. The mother was a tall, yellow woman, with well cut features, about thirty-three years of age, with manners indicative of more than ordinary intelligence. The son and daughter were between twelve and fourteen years of age; well-developed for their age, modest, and finely-formed mulattoes. All the material necessary for a story of great interest, might have readily been found in the story of the mother and her children. They were sent with others to New Bedford, Massachusetts. It was not long after being in New Bedford, before the boy was put to a trade, and the daughter was sent to Boston, where she had an aunt (a fugitive), living in the family of the Hon. George S. Hilliard. Mr. and Mrs. Hilliard were so impressed by Mary's intelligent countenance and her appearance generally, that they decided that she must have a chance for an education, and opened their hearts and home to her.
On a visit to Boston, in 1859, the writer found Mary at Mr. Hilliard's, and in an article written for the "Anti-Slavery Standard," upon the condition of fugitive slaves in Boston and New Bedford, allusion was made particularly to her and several others, under this hospitable roof, in the following paragraph:
"On arriving in Boston, the first persons I had the pleasure to converse with, were four or five uncommonly interesting Underground Rail Road passengers, who had only been out of bondage between three and five years. Their intelligent appearance contradicted the idea that they had ever been an hour in Slavery, or a mile on an Underground Rail Road. Two of them were filling trustworthy posts, where they were respected and well paid for their services. Two others were young people (one two, and the other three years out of Slavery), a girl of fifteen, and a boy of twelve, whose interesting appearance induced a noble-hearted Anti-Slavery lady to receive them into her own family, expressly to educate them; and thus, almost ever since their arrival, they have been enjoying this lady's kindness, as well as the excellent equal Free School privileges of Boston. The girl, in the Grammar School (chiefly composed of whites), has already distinguished herself, having received a diploma, with an excellent certificate of character; and the boy, naturally very apt, has made astonishing progress."
The "boy of twelve," alluded to, was not Mary's brother. He was quite a genius of his age, who had escaped from Norfolk, stowed away in a schooner and was known by the name of "Dick Page."
On arriving in Philadelphia, Dick was delivered, as usual, into the hands of the Committee. The extraordinary smartness of the little fellow (only ten years old), astonished all who saw him. The sympathies of a kind-hearted gentleman and his wife, living in Philadelphia, had been deeply awakened in his behalf, through their relative and friend, Mrs. Hilliard, in whose family, as has been already stated, the boy's aunt lived. So much were these friends interested to secure Dick's freedom, that they often contemplated buying him, although they did not like the idea of buying, as the money would go into the pocket of the master, who they considered had no just right to deprive any individual of his freedom. So when Dick arrived the Committee felt that it was as little as they could do, to give these friends the pleasure of seeing the little Underground Rail Road passenger. He was therefore conveyed to the residence of Prof. J.P. Lesley. He could not have been sent to a house in the great city of Brotherly Love, where he would have found a more cordial and sincere reception. After passing an hour or so with them, Dick was brought away, but he had been so touched by their kindness, that he felt that he must see them again, before leaving the city; so just before sundown, one evening, he was missed; search was made for him, but in vain. Great anxiety was felt for him, fearing that he was lost. During the early part of the evening, the writer, with a bell in hand, passed up one street and down another, in quest of the stranger, but no one could give any information of him. Finally about ten o'clock, the mayor's office was visited with a view of having the police stations telegraphed. Soon the mystery was solved; one of the policemen stated that he had noticed a strange colored boy with Professor Lesley's children. Hastening to the residence of the professor, sure enough, Dick was there, happy in bed and asleep.
From that time to this, it has been a mystery to know how a boy, a perfect stranger, could make his way alone, (having passed over the route but once), without getting lost, so circuitous was the road that he had to travel, in order to reach Professor Lesley's house. Having said this much, the way is now open to refer to him again, in Boston at school. He was generously assisted through his education and trade, and was prepared to commence life at his majority, an intelligent mechanic, and a man of promise.