did. William was apprenticed to a cabinet-maker, and his brother to a

blacksmith; because slaves who worked well at a trade could be let out with more profit to their masters, and would also bring a higher price if sold. Before their time was out, their master became hard pressed for money. Accordingly, he sold the young blacksmith, and mortgaged William and his sister, a girl of fourteen. When the time of the mortgage was up, their master had no money to redeem them, and they were placed on the auction-block, to be sold to the highest bidder. The girl was sold first, and bought by a planter who lived some distance in the country. William was strongly attached to his sister; and when he saw her put into a cart, to be carried away from him forever, it seemed as if his heart would burst. He knelt down and begged and entreated to be allowed to go and speak to her before she was taken away; but they handled him roughly, and ordered him to stay on the auction-block. As he stood there awaiting his own fate, he saw the cart moving slowly away. The tears were rolling down his sister's cheeks, and she stretched her hands toward him with a movement of despair. The thought that he could do nothing for her, and that they might never meet more, almost killed him. His eyes were blinded with tears; and when he could see again, the cart was gone.

He was bought by the man to whom he had been mortgaged, and ordered to return to the cabinet-maker's shop to work. After a while his new master took him to Macon, where he was let out to work at his trade. There he became acquainted with a quadroon girl named Ellen, whom he afterward married.

Ellen was the daughter of her master, but her mother was a slave. Her handsome dark eyes were apt to attract attention; her hair was straight, and her skin was so nearly white that strangers often mistook her for one of her master's own white family. This was very vexatious to her mistress, who treated her so harshly that the poor child had no comfort of her life. When she was eleven years old she was given to a daughter of her mistress, who was about to be married to a gentleman living in Macon. It was painful to part from her poor mother, but she was glad to get away from the incessant cruelty of her old mistress. Her new mistress proved more humane. In her service Ellen grew up without being exposed to some of the most degrading influences of Slavery.

She and the intelligent young cabinet-maker formed an attachment for each other soon after they were acquainted. But Ellen had seen so much of the separation of families in Slavery, that she was very reluctant to marry. Whenever William said anything about it, she reminded him that they were both slaves; and that if they were married either of their masters could separate them whenever they chose. William remembered, with bitterness of heart, how his father and mother and brother had been sold, and how his sister had been torn from him without his being allowed to bid her good by. He had not been tortured in his own person, but he had seen other slaves cruelly whipped and branded with hot iron, hunted and torn by bloodhounds, and even burned alive, merely for trying to get their freedom. In view of these things, he had a great horror of bringing children into the world to be slaves. He and Ellen often talked together about escaping to the North and being married there. But they reflected that they would have to travel a thousand miles before they could reach any Free State. They knew that bloodhounds and slave-hunters would be put upon their track; that if they were taken, they would be subjected to terrible tortures; and that, even if they succeeded in reaching the Free States, they would still be in danger of being delivered up to their masters. They talked over a variety of plans; but the prospect of escape seemed so discouraging, that at last they concluded to ask their owner's consent to their marriage; and they resolved to be as contented as they could in the situation to which they were born. But they were too intelligent not to know that a great wrong was done to them by keeping them in slavery. William shuddered to think into what cruel and licentious hands his dear wife might fall if she should be sold by her present owners; and Ellen was filled with great anguish whenever she thought what might happen to her children, if she should be a mother. They were always thinking and talking about freedom, and they often prayed earnestly to God that some way of escape might be opened for them.

In December, 1848, a bold plan came into William's mind. He thought that if his wife were dressed in men's clothes she could easily pass for a white gentleman, and that he could accompany her on her travels as her negro slave. Ellen, who was very modest and timid, at first shrank from the idea. But, after reflecting more upon their hopeless situation, she said: "It seems too difficult for us to undertake; but I feel that God is on our side, and with His help we may carry it through. We will try."

It was contrary to law for white men in the Southern States to sell anything secretly to slaves; but there were always enough ready to do it for the sake of getting money,--especially as they knew that no colored man was allowed to testify against a white man. William was skilful and diligent at his trade; and though his wages all went to his master, he had contrived to lay up money by doing jobs for others in extra hours. He therefore found little difficulty in buying the various articles of a gentleman's dress, at different times and in different parts of the town. He had previously made Ellen a chest of drawers, with locks and key; and as she was a favorite and trusted slave, she was allowed to keep it for her own use in the little room where she slept. As fast as the articles were bought they were secretly conveyed to her, and she locked them up. The next important thing was to obtain leave of absence for a few days. It was near Christmas-time, when kind slaveholders sometimes permit favorite slaves to be absent on a visit to friends or relatives. But Ellen's services were very necessary to her mistress, and she had to ask many times before she could obtain a written permission to be gone for a few days. The cabinet-maker for whom William worked was persuaded to give him a similar paper, but he charged him to be sure and return as soon as the time was up, because he should need him very much. There was still another difficulty in the way. Travellers were required to register their names at the custom-houses and hotels, and to sign a certificate for the slaves who accompanied them. When Ellen remembered this, it made her weep bitterly to think that she could not write. But in a few moments she wiped her eyes and said, with a smile, "I will poultice my right hand and put it in a sling, and then there will be a good excuse for asking the officers to write my name for me." When she was dressed in her disguise, William thought she could easily pass for a white gentleman, only she looked young enough for a mere boy; he therefore bought a pair of green spectacles to make her look older. She, on her part, was afraid that the smoothness of her chin might betray her; she therefore resolved to tie a bandage round her face, as if she were troubled with toothache.

In four days after they first thought of the plan, all was in readiness. They sat up all night, whispering over to each other the parts they were to act in case of various supposable difficulties. William cut off Ellen's glossy black hair, according to the fashion of gentlemen. When all was carefully arranged, they knelt together and prayed that God would protect them through their perilous undertaking. They raised the latch of the door very softly, and looked out and listened. Nobody was stirring abroad, and all was still. But Ellen trembled and threw herself on her husband's breast. There she wept for a few moments, while he tried to comfort her with whispered words of encouragement, though he also felt that they were going forth into the midst of terrible dangers. She soon recovered her calmness, and said, "Let us go." They stepped out on tiptoe, shook hands in silence, and parted to go to the railway station by different routes. William deemed it prudent to take a short cut across the fields, to avoid being recognized; but his wife, who was now to pass for his young master, went by the public road. Under the name of Mr. William Johnson, she purchased tickets for herself and slave for Savannah, which was about two hundred miles off. The porter who took charge of the luggage at the station had formerly wished to marry Ellen; but her disguise was so complete that he called her "Young massa," and respectfully obeyed her orders concerning the baggage. She gave him a bit of money for his trouble, and he made his best bow.

The moment William arrived at the station, he hid himself in the "negro car" assigned to servants. It was lucky that he did so; for, just before the train started, he saw upon the platform the cabinet-maker, who had given him a pass for quite a different purpose than an excursion to Savannah. He was looking round, as if searching for some one; and William afterward heard that he suspected him of attempting to escape. Luckily, the train started before he had time to examine the "negro car."

Ellen had a narrow escape on her part; for a gentleman who took the seat beside her proved to be Mr. Cray, who frequently visited at her master's house, and who had known her ever since she was a child. Her first thought was that he had come to seize her and carry her back; but it soon became evident that he did not recognize her in a gentleman's dress, with green spectacles, bandaged face, and her arm in a sling. After the cars started, he remarked, "It is a very fine morning, sir." Ellen, being afraid that her voice would betray her, continued to look out of the window, and made no reply. After a little while, he repeated the remark in a louder tone. The passengers who heard him began to smile, and Mr. Cray turned away, saying, "I shall not trouble that deaf fellow any more." To her great relief, he left the cars at the next station.

They arrived at Savannah early in the evening, and William having brought his master something to eat, they went on board a steamer bound for Charleston, South Carolina. Mr. Johnson, as Ellen was now called, deemed it most prudent to retire to his berth immediately. William, fearing this might seem strange to the other passengers, made a great fuss warming flannels and opodeldoc at the stove, informing them that his young master was an invalid travelling to Philadelphia in hopes of getting cured. He did not tell them the disease was Slavery; he called it inflammatory rheumatism. The next morning, at breakfast, Mr. Johnson was seated by the captain of the boat, and, as his right hand was tied in a sling, his servant, William, cut up his food for him. The captain remarked, "You have a very attentive boy, sir; but I advise you to watch him like a hawk when you get North. Several gentlemen have lately lost valuable niggers among them cut-throat Abolitionists."

A hard-looking slave-trader, with red eyes, and bristly beard, was sitting opposite. He laid down a piece of chicken he was eating, and with his thumbs stuck in the arm-holes of his waistcoat, said: "I wouldn't take a nigger North under no consideration. Now, if you'd like to sell that 'ere boy, I'll pay you for him in silver dollars, on this 'ere board. What do you say, stranger?" Mr. Johnson replied, "I do not wish to sell him, sir; I could not get on well without him." "You'll _have_ to get on without him, if you take him to the North," continued the slave-trader. "I am an older cove than you are, and I reckon I have had more dealings with niggers. I tell you, stranger, that boy will never do you any good if you take him across Mason and Dixon's line. I can see by the cut of his eye that he is bound to run away as soon as he can get a chance." Mr. Johnson replied, "I think not, sir. I have great confidence in his fidelity." Whereupon the slave-trader began to swear about niggers in general. A military officer, who was also travelling with a servant, said to Mr. Johnson: "Excuse me, sir, for saying I think you are likely to spoil that boy of yours by saying 'thank you' to him. The only way to make a nigger toe the mark, and to keep him in his place, is to storm at him like thunder. Don't you see that when I speak to my Ned, he darts like lightning? If he didn't, I'd skin him."

When the steamboat arrived at Charleston, the hearts of the fugitives beat almost loud enough to be heard; they were so afraid their flight had been discovered, and a telegraph sent from Savannah to have them arrested. But they passed unnoticed among the crowd. They took a carriage and drove to a fashionable hotel, where the invalid gentleman received every attention befitting his supposed rank. He was seated at a luxurious table in a brilliant dining-room, while William received some fragments of food on a broken plate, and was told to go into the kitchen. Mr. Johnson gave some pieces of money to the servants who waited upon him; and they said to William, "Your massa is a big-bug. He is de greatest gentleman dat has been dis way dis six months."

Notwithstanding the favorable impression he had made, Mr. Johnson found some difficulty in obtaining tickets to Philadelphia for himself and his slave. The master of the ticket-office refused to write the invalid gentleman's name for him. But the military officer who had breakfasted with him stepped up and said he knew the gentleman, and all was right. The captain of the North Carolina steamer hearing this, and not wishing to lose a passenger, said, "I will register the gentleman's name, and take the responsibility upon myself." Mr. Johnson thanked him politely, and the captain remarked: "No disrespect was intended to you, sir; but they are obliged to be very strict in Charleston. Some Abolitionist might take a valuable nigger along with him, and try to pass him off as his slave."

They arrived safely at Wilmington, North Carolina, and took the cars to Richmond, Virginia. On the way, an elderly lady in the cars, seeing William on the platform, cried out, in great excitement, "There goes my nigger Ned!" Mr. Johnson said, very politely, "No, madam, that is my boy." But the lady, without paying any attention to what he said, called out, "Ned, you runaway rascal, come to me, sir." On nearer inspection she perceived that she was mistaken, and said to Mr. Johnson: "I beg your pardon, sir. I was sure it was my Ned. I never saw two black pigs look more alike."

From Petersburg, a Virginia gentleman with two handsome daughters were in the same car with Mr. Johnson. Supposing him to be a rich, fashionable young Southerner, they were very attentive and sympathizing. The old gentleman told him he knew how to pity him, for he had had inflammatory rheumatism himself. He advised him to lie down to rest; which he was very willing to do, as a good means of avoiding conversation. The ladies took their extra shawls and made a comfortable pillow for his head, and their father gave him a piece of paper which he said contained directions for curing the rheumatism. The invalid thanked him politely; but not knowing how to read, and fearing he might hold the paper upside down, prudently put it in his pocket. When they supposed him to be asleep, one of the ladies said, "Papa, he seems to be a very nice young gentleman"; and the other responded, "I never felt so much for any gentleman in my life."

At parting the Virginian gave him his card and said: "I hope you will call upon me when you return. I should be much pleased to see you, and so would my daughters." He gave ten cents to William, and charged him to be attentive to his master. This he promised to do, and he very faithfully kept his word.

They arrived at Baltimore with the joyful feeling that they were close upon the borders of a Free State. William saw that his master was comfortably placed in one of the best cars, and was getting into the servants' car when a man tapped him on the shoulder and asked where he was going. William replied humbly, "I am going to Philadelphia, sir, with my master, who is in the next car." "Then you had better get him out, and be mighty quick about it," said the man; "for the train is going to start, and no man is allowed to take a slave past here till he has satisfied the folks in the office that he has a right to take him along."

William felt as if he should drop down on the spot; but he controlled himself, and went and asked his master to go back to the office. It was a terrible fright. As Mr. Johnson stepped out he whispered, in great agitation, "O William, is it possible we shall have to go back to Slavery, after all we have gone through?" It was very hard to satisfy the station-master. He said if a man carried off a slave that did not belong to him, and the rightful owner could prove that he escaped on that road, they would be obliged to pay for the slave. Mr. Johnson kept up a calm appearance, though his heart was in his throat. "I bought tickets at Charleston to pass us through to Philadelphia," said he; "therefore you have no right to detain us here." "Right or no right, we shall not let you go," replied the man. Some of the spectators sympathized with the rich young Southerner, and said it was a pity to detain him when he was so unwell. While the man hesitated, the bell rang for the cars to start, and the fugitives were in an agony. "I don't know what to do," said the man. "It all seems to be right; and as the gentleman is so unwell, it is a hard case for him to be stopped on the way. Clerk, run and tell the conductor to let this gentleman and his slave pass."

They had scarcely time to scramble into the cars, before the train started. It was eight o'clock in the evening, and they expected to arrive in Philadelphia early the next morning. They did not know that on the way the passengers would have to leave the cars and cross the river Susquehanna in a ferry-boat. They had slept very little for several nights before they left Georgia, and they had been travelling day and night for four days. William, overcome with fatigue, and feeling that their greatest dangers were now over, fell sound asleep on a heap of baggage. When they arrived at the ferry, it was cold, dark, and rainy; and for the first time during their hazardous journey the invalid found no faithful servant at hand when the cars stopped. He was in great distress, fearing that William had been arrested or kidnapped. He anxiously inquired of the passengers whether they had seen his boy. There were a good many Northerners on board, and, supposing his slave had run away, they rather enjoyed his perplexity. One gruffly replied, "I am no slave-hunter." Another smiled as he said, "I guess he is in Philadelphia before now."

When they had crossed the ferry one of the guard found William still sound asleep on the baggage, which had been rolled into the boat. He shook him and bawled out: "Wake up, you boy! Your master has been half scared to death. He thought you had run away." As soon as William was enough awake to understand what had happened, he said, "I am sure my good master does not think that of me." He hastened to explain to Mr. Johnson how he happened to be out of the way. He was received with a great leap of the heart; but the passengers only thought that the master was very glad to recover his lost property. Some of them took a convenient opportunity to advise William to run away when they reached Philadelphia. He replied, "I shall never run away from such a good master as I have." They laughed, and said, "You will think differently when you get into a Free State." They told him how to proceed in case he wanted to be free, and he thanked them. A colored man also entered into conversation with him, and told him of a certain boarding-house in Philadelphia, the keeper of which was very friendly to slaves who wanted their freedom.

On Christmas-day, just as morning was about to dawn, they came in sight of the flickering lights of Philadelphia. William procured a cab as quick as possible, hurried their baggage into it, and told the driver to take them to the boarding-house which had been recommended to them. While Ellen had been obliged to act the part of Mr. Johnson, she had kept her mind wonderfully calm and collected. But now that she was on free soil she broke down with the excess of her emotions. "Thank God, William, we are safe, we are safe!" she exclaimed; and sinking upon her husband's breast, she burst into a passion of tears. When they arrived at the boarding-house, she was so faint she had no further occasion to act being an invalid. As soon as a room was provided, they entered and fastened the door. Then kneeling down side by side, folded in each other's arms, with tears flowing freely, they thanked God for having brought them safely through their dangerous journey, and having permitted them to live to see this happy Sabbath day, which was Christmas-day also.

When they had rested and refreshed themselves with a wash, Ellen put on her womanly garments and went to the sitting-room. When the landlord came at their summons, he was very much surprised and perplexed. "Where is your master?" inquired he; and when William pointed to his wife, he thought it was a joke; for he could not believe she was the same person who came into the house in the dress of a gentleman. He listened to their singular story with great interest and sympathy. He told them he was afraid it would not be safe for them to remain in Philadelphia, but he would send for some Abolitionists who knew the laws better than he