ACT V.

_Scene 1._—BAR-ROOM IN THE AMERICAN HOTEL—TRAVELLERS LOUNGING IN CHAIRS, AND AT THE BAR.

_Enter BILL JENNINGS, R._

_Barkeeper._ Why, Jennings, how do you do?

_Jennings._ Say Mr. Jennings, if you please.

_Barkeeper._ Well, Mr. Jennings, if that suits you better. How are times? We’ve been expecting you, for some days.

_Jennings._ Well, before I talk about the times, I want my horses put up, and want you to tell me where my niggers are to stay to-night. Sheds, stables, barns, and every thing else here, seems pretty full, if I am a judge.

_Barkeeper._ Oh! I’ll see to your plunder.

_1st Lounger._ I say, Barkeeper, make me a brandy cocktail, strong. Why, how do you do, Mr. Jennings?

_Jennings._ Pretty well, Mr. Peters. Cold evening, this.

_1st Loun._ Yes, this is cold. I heard you speak of your niggers. Have you got a pretty large gang?

_Jennings._ No, only thirty-three. But they are the best that the country can afford. I shall clear a few dimes, this trip. I hear that the price is up.

_Enter MR. WHITE, R._

_White._ Can I be accommodated here to-night, landlord?

_Barkeeper._ Yes, sir; we’ve bed for man and beast. Go, Dick, and take the gentleman’s coat and hat. [_To the waiter._] You’re a stranger in these parts, I rec’on.

_White._ Yes, I am a stranger here.

_2d Loun._ Where mout you come from, ef it’s a far question?

_White._ I am from Massachusetts.

_3d Loun._ I say, cuss Massachusetts!

_1st Loun._ I say so too. There is where the fanatics live; cussed traitors. The President ought to hang ’em all.

_White._ I say, landlord, if this is the language that I am to hear, I would like to go into a private room.

_Barkeeper._ We ain’t got no private room empty.

_1st Loun._ Maybe you’re mad ’bout what I said ’bout your State. Ef you is, I’ve only to say that this is a free country, and people talks what they please; an’ ef you don’t like it, you can better yourself.

_White._ Sir, if this is a free country, why do you have slaves here? I saw a gang at the door, as I came in.

_2d Loun._ He didn’t mean that this was a free country for niggers. He meant that it’s free for white people. And another thing, ef you get to talking ’bout freedom for niggers, you’ll catch what you won’t like, mister. It’s right for niggers to be slaves.

_White._ But I saw some white slaves.

_1st Loun._ Well, they’re white niggers.

_White._ Well, sir, I am from a free State, and I thank God for it; for the worst act that a man can commit upon his fellow-man, is to make him a slave. Conceive of a mind, a living soul, with the germs of faculties which infinity cannot exhaust, as it first beams upon you in its glad morning of existence, quivering with life and joy, exulting in the glorious sense of its developing energies, beautiful, and brave, and generous, and joyous, and free,—the clear pure spirit bathed in the auroral light of its unconscious immortality,—and then follow it in its dark and dreary passage through slavery, until oppression stifles and kills, one by one, every inspiration and aspiration of its being, until it becomes a dead soul entombed in a living frame!

_3d Loun._ Stop that; stop that, I say. That’s treason to the country; that’s downright rebellion.

_Barkeeper._ Yes, it is. And another thing,—this is not a meeting-house.

_1st Loun._ Yes, if you talk such stuff as that, you’ll get a chunk of cold lead in you, that you will.

_Enter DR. GAINES and SCRAGG, followed by CATO, R._

_Dr. G._ Gentlemen, I am in pursuit of two valuable slaves, and I will pay five hundred dollars for their arrest.

[_Exit MR. WHITE, L._

_1st Loun._ I’ll bet a picayune that your niggers have been stolen by that cussed feller from Massachusetts. Don’t you see he’s gone?

_Dr. G._ Where is the man? If I can lay my hands on him, he’ll never steal another nigger. Where is the scoundrel?

_1st Loun._ Let’s go after the feller. I’ll go with you. Come, foller me.

[_Exit all, L., except CATO and the waiter._

_Cato._ Why don’t you bring in massa’s saddle-bags? What de debil you standin’ dar for? You common country niggers don’t know nuffin’, no how. Go an’ get massa’s saddle-bags, and bring ’em in.

[_Exit SERVANT, R._

By golly! ebry body’s gone, an’ de bar-keeper too. I’ll tend de bar myself now; an’ de fuss gemman I waits on will be dis gemman of color. [_Goes behind the counter, and drinks._] Ah, dis is de stuff fer me; it makes my head swim; it makes me happy right off. I’ll take a little more.

_Enter BARKEEPER, L._

_Barkeeper._ What are you doing behind that bar, you black cuss?

_Cato._ I is lookin’ for massa’s saddle-bags, sir. Is dey here?

_Barkeeper._ But what were you drinking there?

_Cato._ Me drinkin’! Why, massa, you muss be mistaken. I ain’t drink nuffin’.

_Barkeeper._ You infernal whelp, to stand there and lie in that way!

_Cato._ Oh, yes, seer, I did tase dat coffee in dat bottle; dat’s all I did.

_Enter MR. WHITE, L., excited._

_Mr. White._ I say, sir, is there no place of concealment in your house? They are after me, and my life is in danger. Say, sir, can’t you hide me away?

_Barkeeper._ Well, you ought to hold your tongue when you come into our State.

_Mr. White._ But, sir, the Constitution gives me the right to speak my sentiments, at all times and in all places.

_Barkeeper._ We don’t care for Constitutions nor nothin’ else. We made the Constitution, and we’ll break it. But you had better hide away; they are coming, and they’ll lynch you, that they will. Come with me; I’ll hide you in the cellar. Foller me.

[_Exit BARKEEPER and WHITE, L._

_Enter the MOB, R._

_Dr. Gaines._ If I can once lay my hands on that scoundrel, I’ll blow a hole through his head.

_Jennings._ Yes, I say so too; for no one knows whose niggers are safe, now-a-days. I must look after my niggers. Who is that I see in the distance? I believe it’s that cussed Massachusetts feller. Come, let’s go after him.

[_Exit the MOB, R._

_Scene 2._—FOREST AT NIGHT.

_Enter GLEN and MELINDA, R._

_Melinda._ I am so tired and hungry, that I cannot go further. It is so cloudy that we cannot see the North Star, and therefore cannot tell whether we are going to Canada, or further South. Let’s sit down here.

_Glen._ I know that we cannot see the North Star, Melinda, and I fear we’ve lost our way. But, see! the clouds are passing away, and it’ll soon be clear. See! yonder is a star; yonder is another and another. Ah! yonder is the North Star, and we are safe!

“Star of the North! though night winds drift The fleecy drapery of the sky Between thy lamp and me, I lift, Yea, lift with hope my sleepless eye, To the blue heights wherein thou dwellest, And of a land of freedom tellest.

“Star of the North! while blazing day Pours round me its full tide of light, And hides thy pale but faithful ray, I, too, lie hid, and long for night: For night: I dare not walk at noon, Nor dare I trust the faithless moon—

“Nor faithless man, whose burning lust For gold hath riveted my chain,— Nor other leader can I trust But thee, of even the starry train; For all the host around thee burning, Like faithless man, keep turning, turning.

“I may not follow where they go:— Star of the North! I look to thee While on I press; for well I know, Thy light and truth shall set me free:— Thy light, that no poor slave deceiveth; Thy truth, that all my soul believeth.

“Thy beam is on the glassy breast Of the still spring, upon whose brink I lay my weary limbs to rest, And bow my parching lips to drink. Guide of the friendless negro’s way, I bless thee for this quiet ray!

“In the dark top of southern pines I nestled, when the Driver’s horn Called to the field, in lengthening lines, My fellows, at the break of morn. And there I lay till thy sweet face Looked in upon “my hiding place.”

“The tangled cane-brake, where I crept For shelter from the heat of noon, And where, while others toiled, I slept, Till wakened by the rising moon, As its stalks felt the night wind free, Gave me to catch a glimpse of thee.

“Star of the North! in bright array The constellations round thee sweep, Each holding on its nightly way, Rising, or sinking in the deep, And, as it hangs in mid heaven flaming, The homage of some nation claiming.

“_This_ nation to the Eagle cowers; Fit ensign! she’s a bird of spoil:— Like worships like! for each devours The earnings of another’s toil. I’ve felt her talons and her beak, And now the gentler Lion seek.

“The Lion, at the Monarch’s feet Crouches, and lays his mighty paw Into her lap!—an emblem meet Of England’s Queen, and English law: Queen, that hath made her Islands free! Law, that holds out its shield to me!

“Star of the North! upon that shield Thou shinest,—Oh, for ever shine! The negro, from the cotton field Shall, then, beneath its orb recline, And feed the Lion, couched before it, Nor heed the Eagle, screaming o’er it!”

With the thoughts of servitude behind us, and the North Star before us, we will go forward with cheerful hearts. Come, Melinda, let’s go on.

[_Exit, L._

_Scene 3._—A STREET.

_Enter MR. WHITE, R._

_Mr. White._ I am glad to be once more in a free State. If I am caught again south of Mason and Dixon’s line, I’ll give them leave to lynch me. I came near losing my life. This is the way our constitutional rights are trampled upon. But what care these men about Constitutions, or any thing else that does not suit them? But I must hasten on.

[_Exit, L._

_Enter CATO, in disguise, R._

_Cato._ I wonder ef dis is me? By golly, I is free as a frog. But maybe I is mistaken; maybe dis ain’t me. Cato, is dis you? Yes, seer. Well, now it is me, an’ I em a free man. But, stop! I muss change my name, kase ole massa might foller me, and somebody might tell him dat dey seed Cato; so I’ll change my name, and den he won’t know me ef he sees me. Now, what shall I call myself? I’m now in a suspectable part of de country, an’ I muss have a suspectable name. Ah! I’ll call myself Alexander Washington Napoleon Pompey Cæsar. Dar, now, dat’s a good long, suspectable name, and every body will suspect me. Let me see; I wonder ef I can’t make up a song on my escape? I’ll try.

AIR—“_Dearest Mae._”

Now, freemen, listen to my song, a story I’ll relate, It happened in de valley of de ole Kentucky State: Dey marched me out into de fiel’, at every break of day, And work me dar till late sunset, widout a cent of pay.

_Chorus._—Dey work me all de day, Widout a bit of pay, And thought, because dey fed me well, I would not run away.

Massa gave me his ole coat, an’ thought I’d happy be, But I had my eye on de North Star, an’ thought of liberty; Ole massa lock de door, an’ den he went to sleep, I dress myself in his bess clothes, an’ jump into de street.

_Chorus._—Dey work me all de day, Widout a bit of pay, So I took my flight, in the middle of de night, When de sun was gone away.

Sed I, dis chile’s a freeman now, he’ll be a slave no more; I travell’d faster all dat night, dan I ever did before. I came up to a farmer’s house, jest at de break of day, And saw a white man standin’ dar, sed he, “You are a runaway.”

_Chorus._—Dey work me all de day, &c.

I tole him I had left de whip, an’ bayin’ of de hound, To find a place where man is man, ef sich dar can be found; Dat I had heard, in Canada, dat all mankind are free, An’ dat I was going dar in search of liberty.

_Chorus._—Dey work me all de day, &c.

I’ve not committed any crime, why should I run away? Oh! shame upon your laws, dat drive me off to Canada. You loudly boast of liberty, an’ say your State is free, But ef I tarry in your midst, will you protect me?

_Chorus._—Dey work me all de day, &c.

[_Exit, L._

_Scene 4._—DINING-ROOM.—TABLE SPREAD.

_MRS. NEAL and CHARLOTTE._

_Mrs. Neal._ Thee may put the tea to draw, Charlotte. Thy father will be in soon, and we must have breakfast.

_Enter MR. NEAL, L._

I think, Simeon, it is time those people were called. Thee knows that they may be pursued, and we ought not to detain them long here.

_Mr. Neal._ Yes, Ruth, thou art right. Go, Charlotte, and knock on their chamber door, and tell them that breakfast is ready.

[_Exit CHARLOTTE, R._

_Mrs. N._ Poor creatures! I hope they’ll reach Canada in safety. They seem to be worthy persons.

_Enter CHARLOTTE, R._

_Charlotte._ I’ve called them, mother, and they’ll soon be down. I’ll put the breakfast on the table.

_Enter NEIGHBOR JONES, L._

_Mr. N._ Good morning, James. Thee has heard, I presume, that we have two very interesting persons in the house?

_Jones._ Yes, I heard that you had two fugitives by the Underground road, last night; and I’ve come over to fight for them, if any persons come to take them back.

_Enter THOMAS, R._

_Mr. N._ Go, Thomas, and harness up the horses and put them to the covered wagon, and be ready to take these people on, as soon as they get their breakfast. Go, Thomas, and hurry thyself.

[_Exit THOMAS, R._

And so thee wants to fight, this morning, James?

_Jones._ Yes; as you belongs to a society that don’t believe in fighting, and I does believe in that sort of thing, I thought I’d come and relieve you of that work, if there is any to be done.

_Enter GLEN and MELINDA, R._

_Mr. N._ Good morning, friends. I hope thee rested well, last night.

_Mrs. N._ Yes, I hope thee had a good night’s rest.

_Glen._ I thank you, madam, we did.

_Mr. N._ I’ll introduce thee to our neighbor, James Jones. He’s a staunch friend of thy people.

_Jones._ I am glad to see you. I’ve come over to render assistance, if any is needed.

_Mrs. N._ Come, friends, take seats at the table. Thee’ll take seats there. [_To GLEN and MELINDA._] [_All take seats at the table._] Does thee take sugar and milk in thy tea?

_Melinda._ I thank you, we do.

_Jones._ I’ll look at your _Tribune_, Uncle Simeon, while you’re eating.

_Mr. N._ Thee’ll find it on the table.

_Mrs. N._ I presume thee’s anxious to get to thy journey’s end?

_Glen._ Yes, madam, we are. I am told that we are not safe in any of the free States.

_Mr. N._ I am sorry to tell thee, that that is too true. Thee will not be safe until thee gets on British soil. I wonder what keeps Thomas; he should have been here with the team.

_Enter THOMAS, L._

_Thomas._ All’s ready; and I’ve written the prettiest song that was ever sung. I call it “The Underground Railroad.”

_Mr. N._ Thomas, thee can eat thy breakfast far better than thee can write a song, as thee calls it. Thee must hurry thyself, when I send thee for the horses, Thomas. Here lately, thee takes thy time.

_Thomas._ Well, you see I’ve been writing poetry; that’s the reason I’ve been so long. If you wish it, I’ll sing it to you.

_Jones._ Do let us hear the song.

_Mrs. Neal._ Yes, if Thomas has written a ditty, do let us hear it.

_Mr. Neal._ Well, Thomas, if thee has a ditty, thee may recite it to us.

_Thomas._ Well, I’ll give it to you. Remember that I call it, “The Underground Railroad.”

AIR—“_Wait for the Wagon._”

Oh, where is the invention Of this growing age, Claiming the attention Of statesman, priest, or sage, In the many railways Through the nation found, Equal to the Yankees’ Railway under-ground?

_Chorus._—No one hears the whistle, Or rolling of the cars, While negroes ride to freedom Beyond the stripes and stars.

On the Southern borders Are the Railway stations, Negroes get free orders While on the plantations; For all, of ev’ry color, First-class cars are found, While they ride to freedom By Railway under-ground.

_Chorus._—No one hears the whistle, &c.

Masters in the morning Furiously rage, Cursing the inventions Of this knowing age; Order out the bloodhounds, Swear they’ll bring them back, Dogs return exhausted, Cannot find the track.

_Chorus._—No one hears the whistle, &c.

Travel is increasing, Build a double track, Cars and engines wanted, They’ll come, we have no lack. Clear the track of loafers, See that crowded car! Thousands passing yearly, Stock is more than par.

_Chorus._—No one hears the whistle, &c.

_Jones._ Well done! That’s a good song. I’d like to have a copy of them verses.

[_Knock at the door. Charlotte goes to the door, and returns._

_Enter CATO, L., still in disguise._

_Mr. Neal._ Who is this we have? Another of the outcasts, I presume?

_Cato._ Yes, seer; I is gwine to Canada, an’ I met a man, an’ he tole me dat you would give me some wittuls an’ help me on de way. By golly! ef dar ain’t Glen an’ Melinda. Dey don’t know me in dese fine clothes. [_Goes up to them._] Ah, chillen! I is one wid you. I golly, I is here too! [_They shake hands._]

_Glen._ Why, it is Cato, as I live!

_Melinda._ Oh, Cato, I am so glad to see you! But how did you get here?

_Cato._ Ah, chile, I come wid ole massa to hunt you; an’ you see I get tired huntin’ you, an’ I am now huntin’ for Canada. I leff de ole boss in de bed at de hotel; an’ you see I thought, afore I left massa, I’d jess change clothes wid him; so, you see, I is fixed up,—ha, ha, ha. Ah, chillen! I is gwine wid you.

_Mrs. Neal._ Come, sit thee down, and have some breakfast.

_Cato._ Tank you, madam, I’ll do dat.

[_Sits down and eats._

_Mr. Neal._ This is pleasant for thee to meet one of thy friends.

_Glen._ Yes, sir, it is; I would be glad if we could meet more of them. I have a mother and sister still in slavery, and I would give worlds, if I possessed them, if by so doing I could release them from their bondage.

_Thomas._ We are all ready, sir, and the wagon is waiting.

_Mrs. Neal._ Yes, thee had better start.

_Cato._ Ef any body tries to take me back to ole massa, I’ll pull ebry toof out of dar heads, dat I will! As soon as I get to Canada, I’ll set up a doctor shop, an’ won’t I be poplar? Den I rec’on I will. I’ll pull teef fer all de people in Canada. Oh, how I wish I had Hannah wid me! It makes me feel bad when I tink I ain’t a-gwine to see my wife no more. But, come, chillen, let’s be makin’ tracks. Dey say we is most to de British side.

_Mr. Neal._ Yes, a few miles further, and you’ll be safe beyond the reach of the Fugitive-Slave Law.

_Cato._ Ah, dat’s de talk fer dis chile.

[_Exit, M. D._

_Scene 5._—THE NIAGARA RIVER—A FERRY.

_FERRYMAN, fastening his small boat._

_Ferryman,_ [_advancing, takes out his watch._] I swan, if it ain’t one o’clock. I thought it was dinner time. Now there’s no one here, I’ll go to dinner, and if any body comes, they can wait until I return. I’ll go at once.

[_Exit, L._

_Enter MR. WHITE, R., with an umbrella._

_Mr. White._ I wonder where that ferryman is? I want to cross to Canada. It seems a little showery, or else the mist from the Falls is growing thicker.

[_Takes out his sketch-book and pencils,—sketches._

_Enter CANE PEDLAR, R._

_Pedlar._ Want a good cane to-day, sir? Here’s one from Goat Island,—very good, sir,—straight and neat,—only one dollar. I’ve a wife and nine small children,—youngest is nursing, and the oldest only three years old. Here’s a cane from Table Rock, sir. Please buy one! I’ve had no breakfast to-day. My wife’s got the rheumatics, and the children’s got the measles. Come, sir, do buy a cane! I’ve a lame shoulder, and can’t work.

_Mr. White._ Will you stop your confounded talk, and let me alone? Don’t you see that I am sketching? You’ve spoiled a beautiful scene for me, with your nonsense.

_Enter 2d PEDLAR, R._

_2d Pedlar._ Want any bead bags, or money purses? These are all real Ingen bags, made by the Black Hawk Ingens. Here’s a pretty bag, sir, only 75 cents. Here’s a money purse, 50 cents. Please, sir, buy something! My wife’s got the fever and ague, and the house is full of children, and they’re all sick. Come, sir, do help a worthy man!

_Mr. White._ Will you hold your tongue? You’ve spoiled some of the finest pictures in the world. Don’t you see that I am sketching?

[_Exit PEDLARS, R., grumbling._

I am glad those fellows have gone; now I’ll go a little further up the shore, and see if I can find another boat. I want to get over.

[_Exit, L._

_Enter DR. GAINES, SCRAGG, and an OFFICER._

_Officer._ I don’t think that your slaves have crossed yet, and my officers will watch the shore below here, while we stroll up the river. If I once get my hands on them, all the Abolitionists in the State shall not take them from me.

_Dr. G._ I hope they have not got over, for I would not lose them for two thousand dollars, especially the gal.

_Enter 1st PEDLAR._

_Pedlar._ Wish to get a good cane, sir? This stick was cut on the very spot where Sam Patch jumped over the falls. Only fifty cents. I have a sick wife and thirteen children. Please buy a cane; I ain’t had no dinner.

_Officer._ Get out of the way! Gentlemen, we’ll go up the shore.

[_Exit, L._

_Enter CATO, R._

_Cato._ I is loss fum de cumpny, but dis is de ferry, and I spec dey’ll soon come. But didn’t we have a good time las’ night in Buffalo? Dem dar Buffalo gals make my heart flutter, dat dey did. But, tanks be to de Lord, I is got religion. I got it las’ night in de meetin.’ Before I got religion, I was a great sinner; I got drunk, an’ took de name of de Lord in vain. But now I is a conwerted man; I is bound for hebben; I toats de witness in my bosom; I feel dat my name is rote in de book of life. But dem niggers in de Vine Street Church las’ night shout an’ make sich a fuss, dey give me de headache. But, tank de Lord, I is got religion, an’ now I’ll be a preacher, and den dey’ll call me de Rev. Alexander Washinton Napoleon Pompey Cæsar. Now I’ll preach and pull teef, bofe at de same time. Oh, how I wish I had Hannah wid me! Cuss ole massa, fer ef it warn’t for him, I could have my wife wid me. Ef I hadn’t religion, I’d say “Damn ole massa!” but as I is a religious man, an’ belongs to de church, I won’t say no sich a thing. But who is dat I see comin’? Oh, it’s a whole heap of people. Good Lord! what is de matter?

_Enter GLEN and MELINDA, L., followed by OFFICERS._

_Glen._ Let them come; I am ready for them. He that lays hands on me or my wife shall feel the weight of this club.

_Melinda._ Oh, Glen, let’s die here, rather than again go into slavery.

_Officer._ I am the United States Marshal. I have a warrant from the Commissioner to take you, and bring you before him. I command assistance.

_Enter DR. GAINES, SCRAGG, and OFFICER, R._

_Dr. Gaines._ Here they are. Down with the villain! down with him! but don’t hurt the gal!

_Enter MR. WHITE, R._

_Mr. White._ Why, bless me! these are the slaveholding fellows. I’ll fight for freedom!

[_Takes hold of his umbrella with both hands.—The fight commences, in which GLEN, CATO, DR. GAINES, SCRAGG, WHITE, and the OFFICERS, take part.—FERRYMAN enters, and runs to his boat.—DR. GAINES, SCRAGG and the OFFICERS are knocked down, GLEN, MELINDA and CATO jump into the boat, and as it leaves the shore and floats away, GLEN and CATO wave their hats, and shout loudly for freedom.—Curtain falls._

THE END.

OPINIONS OF THE PRESS.

☞ The following are but few of the favorable notices given of “THE ESCAPE,” where it has been publicly read:

A novel Dramatic Reading took place last evening at Sansom Street Hall, by WM. WELLS BROWN, the colored dramatic writer, which was highly entertaining, and gave the greatest satisfaction to an intelligent and appreciative audience. The Drama is instructive, as well as very laughable.—_Philadelphia Evening Bulletin._

All who heard MR. BROWN’S Drama were highly gratified. It is well executed, and was finely delivered.—_Philadelphia Morning Times._

The Dramatic Reading of MR. WM. WELLS BROWN, last evening, was well attended, and gave the most unbounded satisfaction. MR. BROWN’S Drama is, in itself, a masterly refutation of all apologies for slavery, and abounds in wit, satire, philosophy, argument and facts, all ingeniously interwoven into one of the most interesting dramatic compositions of modern times.—_Auburn (N. Y.) Daily Advertiser._

MR. BROWN exhibits a dramatic talent possessed by few who have, under the best instructions, made themselves famous on the stage. He evinces a talent for tragic and comic representation rarely combined. If you want a good laugh, go and hear him. If you want instruction or information upon the most interesting question of the day, go and hear him. You cannot fail to be pleased. So highly pleased were those who heard it in Auburn, that twenty-eight of the leading men of the city, over their own signatures, extended an invitation to him, through the _Daily Advertiser_, to return and repeat the Drama. Among them we recognize the names of Hon. B. F. Hall, of the State Senate, and the Rev. Wm. Hosmer, editor of the _Northern Independent_. Such a compliment entitles MR. BROWN to crowded houses wherever he goes.—_Seneca Falls Courier._