did. Friends soon came, and gave them a hearty welcome; but they all

agreed that it would not be safe for them to remain long in Philadelphia, and advised them to go to Boston. Barclay Ivens, a kind-hearted Quaker farmer, who lived some distance in the country, invited them to rest a few weeks at his house. They went accordingly. But Ellen, who had not been accustomed to receive such attentions from white people, was a little flurried when they arrived. She had received the impression that they were going to stay with colored people; and when she saw a white lady and three daughters come out to the wagon to meet her, she was much disturbed, and said to William, "I thought they were colored people." "It is all the same as if they were," replied he. "They are our good friends." "It is _not_ all the same," said Ellen, decidedly. "I have no faith in white people. They will be sending us back into Slavery. I am going right off." She had not then become acquainted with the Abolitionists. She had heard her master and other Southerners talk about them as very bad men, who would make slaves believe they were their friends, and then sell them into distant countries. The Quaker lady saw that she was afraid, and she went up to her and took her very kindly by the hand, saying: "How art thou, my dear? We are very glad to see thee and thy husband. We have heard about thy marvellous escape from Slavery. Come in and warm thyself. I dare say thou art cold and hungry after thy journey." Ellen thanked her, and allowed herself to be led into the house. Still she did not feel quite safe in that strange place, away from all her people. When Mrs. Ivens attempted to remove her bonnet, she said, "No, I thank you. I am not going to stop long." "Poor child!" said the good Quaker mother, "I don't wonder thou art timid. But don't be afraid. Thou art among friends who would as soon sell their own daughters into Slavery as betray thee. We would not harm a hair of thy head for the world." The kindly face and the motherly tones melted the heart of the poor frightened fugitive, and the tears began to flow. They stayed several weeks in that hospitable house, and the son and daughters took so much pains to teach them to read and write, that before they left they could spell a little, and write their names quite legibly. They were strongly urged to stay longer, and would have done so had they not been very desirous to be earning their own living. When they left this excellent family it seemed like parting with near and dear relatives.

In Boston they were introduced to William Lloyd Garrison, Wendell Phillips, Francis Jackson, Rev. Theodore Parker, and other good men, who had for years been laboring for the emancipation of the slaves. The fugitives made a favorable impression on strangers at first sight. They both looked intelligent and honest. William had a very manly air, and Ellen was modest and ladylike in her manners.

Their marriage in Georgia had been, like other slave marriages, without a certificate; therefore they were desirous to have the ceremony performed again, with all the forms of law, now that they were in a free land. They were accordingly married by the Rev. Mr. Parker, at the house of a respectable colored citizen of Boston, named Lewis Hayden. Mr. Crafts was employed at his trade, and his wife obtained work as a seamstress. They lived in Boston two years, during which time they established an excellent character by their honest industry and correct deportment. They earned a comfortable living, and might have laid by some money if circumstances had permitted them to remain in Massachusetts.

But in 1850 the Congress of the United States, under the influence of slaveholders, passed a very wicked act called the Fugitive Slave Bill. There was in Boston at that time a celebrated lawyer named Daniel Webster. He wanted to be President of the United States, and for many years no man had been able to get elected to that office unless he pleased the slaveholders. He accordingly used his great influence to help the passage of the bill, and advised the people of Massachusetts to get over their scruples about hunting slaves. He died without being President; and I hope God forgave the great sin into which his ambition led him. By that cruel act of Congress, everybody, all over the country, was required to send back fugitive slaves to their masters. Whoever concealed them or helped them in any way became liable to a year's imprisonment and a fine of a thousand dollars, besides paying the price of the slave. In all the Northern cities there were many honest, industrious colored people who had escaped from Slavery years before, and were now getting a comfortable living. Many of them had married at the North and reared families. But when slaveholders gained this victory over the conscience of the North, they were compelled to leave their business and their homes, and hide themselves wheresoever they could. Mr. and Mrs. Crafts had many zealous friends in Boston, but the friends of the slaveholders were more numerous. For some time past, Southerners had been rather reluctant to hunt slaves in Massachusetts, because the public opinion of the people was so much opposed to Slavery, that they found it a difficult and disagreeable job. But after the passage of that unrighteous bill, they and their pro-slavery accomplices at the North became more bold.

One day, while Mr. Crafts was busy in his shop, he received a visit from a man by the name of Knight, who used to work in the same shop with him in Georgia. He professed to be much pleased to see William again, and invited him to walk round the streets and show him the curiosities of Boston. Mr. Crafts told him he had work to do, and was very busy. The next day he tried again; but finding Mr. Crafts still too busy to walk with him, he said: "I wish you would come to see me at the United States Hotel, and bring your wife with you. She would like to hear from her mother. If you want to send letters to Georgia, I will take them for you." This was followed by a badly spelled note to Mr. Crafts, informing him that he was going to leave Boston early the next morning, and if he wanted to send a letter to Georgia he must bring it to him at the hotel after tea. Mr. Crafts smiled that he should think him silly enough to walk into such an open trap. Mr. Knight had told him that he came to Boston alone; but when he questioned the hotel-servant who brought the note, he was told that a Mr. Hughes from Georgia accompanied him. Mr. Hughes was a notorious slave-catcher, and the jailer of Macon. Mr. Crafts continued to work at his shop; but he kept the door locked, and a loaded pistol beside him.

Finding that his intended victim was too much on his guard to be caught by trickery, Mr. Hughes applied to the United States Court in Boston and obtained a warrant to arrest William and Ellen Crafts as fugitive slaves. This produced tremendous excitement. The Abolitionists were determined that they should not be carried back into Slavery. They had people everywhere on the watch, and employed lawyers to throw all manner of difficulties in the way of the slave-hunters, whose persons and manners were described in the newspapers in a way by no means agreeable to them. The colored people held large meetings, and passed various spirited resolutions, among which was the following: "_Resolved_, Man wills us slaves, but God wills us free. We will as God wills. God's will be done." Two hundred of them armed themselves and vowed that they would defend William and Ellen Crafts to the death. Mr. Crafts said very calmly, but very resolutely, that they should never take him alive. Hughes the slave-catcher swore: "I'll have 'em if I stay in Boston to all eternity. If there a'n't men enough in Massachusetts to take 'em, I'll bring men from Georgia." Merchants in Boston, thinking only of their trade with the South, sympathized with those men engaged in such a base calling; and the United States officials did all they could to help them. But though they received countenance and aid from many influential men in Boston, those hirelings of Slavery could not help feeling ashamed of their business. They complained that the boys in the streets hooted after them, and that wherever they made their appearance, people called out, "There go the slave-hunters!" They heard that the Abolitionists were preparing to arrest them and try them as kidnappers; and the number of colored people who watched their movements with angry looks made them wish themselves back in Georgia. During all this commotion, the conduct of Mr. Crafts excited universal admiration. He was resolute, but very calm. If there had been any law to protect him, he would have appealed to the law, rather than have harmed a hair of any man's head; but left defenceless as he was among a pack of wolves hunting him and his innocent wife, he was determined to defend his freedom at any cost.

Ellen was secretly conveyed out of the city. Mr. and Mrs. Ellis Gray Loring of Boston were excellent people, always kind to the poor and true friends to the oppressed slaves. They spent their summers in the neighboring town of Brookline. A Boston physician, who was an Abolitionist, carried Ellen to their house in the evening. Mr. and Mrs. Loring were both absent from home for a few days, but a lady who was staying in the house received her with great kindness. She stayed there two days, assisting the lady very industriously and skilfully with her needle. Her mind was full of anxiety about her husband, whom she had left in the city exposed to the most fearful danger. She was very wakeful through the night, listening to every noise. As soon as she became drowsy, she would wake with a sudden start from some bad dream. She dreamed that she and William were running from the Georgia slave-catcher, and that Daniel Webster was close behind them, pointing a pistol at them. It was a sad thing that a man of such intellectual ability as Mr. Webster, and with so much influence in society, should make such bad use of his great power that he haunted the dreams of the poor and the oppressed. Ellen rose in the morning with a feeling of weariness and a great load upon her heart. But she kept back the tears that were ready to flow, and was so quiet and sweet-tempered that she completely gained the hearts of her protectors. Early the next evening, the same friend who carried Ellen from the city brought her husband to her. He also had been sleepless, and was worn down with fatigue and anxiety. They were advised to retire to rest immediately, to remain in their room with the door locked, and be careful not to show themselves at the window. They followed these directions, and the lady was hoping they would both have peaceful and refreshing slumber, when Ellen came to say that her husband wanted to speak with her. She found him standing by the fireplace looking very sad, but with a dignified calmness that seemed to her truly noble in the midst of such dreadful danger. As she entered he said, "Ellen has just told me that Mr. and Mrs. Loring are absent from home. If we should be found in his house, he would be liable to imprisonment and a heavy fine. It is wrong for us to expose him to this danger without his knowledge and consent. We must seek shelter elsewhere." The lady replied: "Mr. Loring would feel troubled to have you leave his house under such circumstances. He is the best and kindest of men, and a great friend of the colored people." "That makes it all the more wrong for us to bring him into trouble on our account, without his knowledge," replied Mr. Crafts. Ellen had kept up bravely all day, but now her courage began to fail. She looked up with tears swimming in her handsome eyes and said: "O William, it is so dark and rainy to-night, and it seems so safe here! We may be seen and followed, if we go out. You said you didn't sleep last night. I started up from a little nap, dreaming that Daniel Webster was chasing us with a loaded pistol. I thought of all manner of horrid things that might be happening to you, and I couldn't sleep any more. Don't you think we might stay here just this one night?" He looked at her with pity in his eyes, but said, very firmly, "Ellen, it wouldn't be right." Without another word she prepared to go, though the tears were falling fast. The lady, finding his mind too fixed to be changed by her persuasions, sent a guide with them to the house of Mr. Philbrick, a worthy, kind-hearted gentleman, who lived about half a mile off. She herself told me the story; and she said she never felt so much respect and admiration for any human beings as she did for those two hunted slaves when she saw them walk out into the darkness and rain because they thought it wrong to endanger, without his consent, a friend of their persecuted people. She felt anxious lest the slave-catcher or his agents might seize them on the road, and it was a great relief to her mind when the guide returned and said Mr. Philbrick received them gladly.

After a few more days of peril they were secretly put on board a vessel, which conveyed them to England. They carried letters which introduced them to good people, who contributed money to put them to school for a while. Their intelligence, industry, and good conduct confirmed the favorable impression made by their first appearance. In 1860, Mr. Crafts published a little book giving an account of their "Running a Thousand Miles for Freedom." They have now been living in England fifteen years. By their united industry and good management they earned a comfortable living, and laid by a little, year after year, until they had enough to buy a small house in the village of Hammersmith, not far from the great city of London. There they keep their children at the best of schools, and pay taxes which help to support the poor in the country which protected them in their time of danger and distress.

The honesty, energy, and good sense of Mr. Crafts inspired so much respect and confidence in England, that the Quakers and other benevolent people, who wish to do good to Africa, also merchants, who want to open trade with that region, sent him out there with a valuable cargo of goods, in November, 1862. The mission he is performing is very important to the well-being of the world, as you will see by the following explanation.

Africa is four thousand miles across the Atlantic Ocean from the United States. It is inhabited by numerous tribes of black people, each tribe with a separate government. These tribes vary in degrees of intelligence and civilization; but they are generally of a peaceable and kindly disposition, unless greatly provoked by wrongs from others. Where they are safe from attack they live in little villages of huts, and raise yams, rice, and other grain for food. They weave coarse cloth from cotton, merely by means of sticks stuck in the ground, and in some places they color it with gay patterns. They make very pretty baskets and mats from grasses, and some of the tribes manufacture rude tools of iron and ornaments of gold. But a constant state of warfare has hindered the improvement of the Africans; for men have very little encouragement to build good houses, and make convenient furniture, and plant grain, if enemies are likely to come any night and burn and trample it all to the ground. These continual wars have been largely caused by the slave-trade. Formerly the African chiefs sold men into Slavery only in punishment for some crime they had committed, or to work out a debt they had failed to pay, or because they were prisoners taken in war. These customs were barbarous enough, but they were not so bad as what they were afterward taught to do by nations calling themselves Christians. In various countries of Europe and America there were white people too proud and lazy to work, but desirous to dress in the best and live on the fat of the land. They sent ships out to Africa to bring them negroes, whom they compelled to work without wages, with coarse, scanty food, and scarcely any clothing. They grew rich on the labor of these poor creatures, and spent their own time in drinking, gambling, and horse-racing. Slave-traders, in order to supply them with as many negroes as they wanted, would steal all the men, women, and children they could catch on the coast of Africa; and would buy others from the chiefs, paying them mostly in rum and gunpowder. This made the different tribes very desirous to go to war with each other, in order to take prisoners to sell to the slave-traders; and the more rum they drank, the more full of fight they were. This mean and cruel business has been carried on by white men four hundred years; and all that while African villages have been burned in the night, and harvests trampled, and men, women, and children carried off to hopeless Slavery in distant lands. This continual violence, and intercourse with such bad white men as the slave-traders, kept the Africans barbarous; and made them much more barbarous than they would otherwise have been. Such a state of things made it impossible for them to improve, as they would have done if the nations called Christians had sent them spelling-books and Bibles instead of rum, teachers instead of slave-traders, and tools and machinery instead of gunpowder.

Of all the African chiefs the King of Dahomey is the most powerful. He sends armed men all about the country to carry off people and sell them to Europeans and Americans. In that bad way he has grown richer than other chiefs, and more hard-hearted. Benevolent people in England have long desired to stop the ravages of the slave-trade and to teach the Africans better things. The dearth of cotton in the United States, occasioned by the Rebellion of the planters, turned the attention of English merchants in the same direction. It was accordingly agreed to send Mr. Crafts to Dahomey to open a trade, and try to convince the king that it would be more profitable to him to employ men in raising cotton than to sell them for slaves. He was well received by the King of Dahomey, who shows a disposition to be influenced by his judicious counsels. This is a great satisfaction to Mr. Crafts, desirous as he is of elevating people of his own color. Numbers who were destined to be sold into foreign Slavery are already employed in raising cotton in their native land. Wars will become less frequent; and the African tribes will gradually learn that the arts of peace are more profitable, as well as more pleasant. This will bring them into communication with a better class of white men; and I hope that, before another hundred years have passed away, there will be Christian churches all over Africa, and school-houses for the children.

Mr. Crafts sold all the goods he carried out in the first vessel, and managed the business so well that he was sent out with another cargo. He is now one of the most enterprising and respected merchants in that part of the world; and his labors produce better results than mere money, for they are the means of making men wiser and better. How much would have been lost to himself and the world if he had remained a slave in Georgia, not allowed to profit by his own industry, and forbidden to improve his mind by learning to read!

Mr. M. D. Conway, the son of a slaveholder in Virginia, but a very able and zealous friend of the colored people, recently visited England, and sent the following letter to Boston, where it was read with great interest by the numerous friends of William and Ellen Crafts:--

"LONDON, October 29th, 1864.

"A walk one pleasant morning across a green common, then through a quiet street of the village called Hammersmith, brought me to the house of an American whom I respect as much as any now in Europe; namely, William Crafts, once a slave in Georgia, then a hunted fugitive in Massachusetts, but now a respected citizen of England, and the man who is doing more to redeem Africa from her cruel superstitions than all other forces put together. He lately came home from Dahomey, the ship-load of goods that he had taken out to Africa from Liverpool having been entirely sold. The merchants who sent him are preparing another cargo for him, and he will probably leave the country this week. His theory is, that commerce is to destroy the abominations in the realm of Dahomey. He is very black, but he finds the color which was so much against him in America a leading advantage to him in Africa. Ellen, his wife, told us that she was too white to go with him. He was absent on business in Liverpool, and thus, to my regret, I missed the opportunity of seeing him. There was a pretty little girl, and three unusually handsome boys. They all inherit the light complexion and beauty of their mother. We found Mrs. Crafts busy packing her husband's trunk for his next voyage. She showed us a number of interesting things which he had brought from Africa. Among them were birds of bright plumage, a belt worn by the Amazons in war, a sword made by the Africans, breastpins, and other excellent specimens of work in metals. I remembered that years ago the sight of similar things inspired Clarkson with his strong faith in the improvability of the African race.

"William and Ellen Crafts own the house in which they live. After that brave flight of a thousand miles for freedom, after the dangers which surrounded them in Massachusetts, it did my heart good to see them enjoying their own simple but charming home, to see them thus living under their own vine and fig-tree, none daring to molest or make them afraid.

"M. D. CONWAY."

Mrs. Crafts has used her needle diligently to make garments for the colored people of the United States emancipated by President Lincoln's Proclamation. She has had the pleasure of hearing that her mother is among them, healthy, and still young looking for her years. As soon as arrangements can be made she will go to England to rejoin her daughter, whom she has not seen since her hazardous flight from Georgia.

I think all who read this romantic but true story will agree with me in thinking that few white people have shown as much intelligence, moral worth, and refinement of feeling as the fugitive slaves William and Ellen Crafts.

* * * * *

In February, 1861, the Emperor of Russia proclaimed freedom to twenty-three millions of serfs. Finding their freedom was not secure in the hands of their former masters, he afterward completed the good work by investing the freedmen with civil and political rights; including the right to testify in court, the right to vote, and the right to hold office.

SPRING.

BY GEORGE HORTON.

Hail, thou auspicious vernal dawn! Ye birds, proclaim that winter's gone! Ye warbling minstrels, sing! Pour forth your tribute as ye rise, And thus salute the fragrant skies, The pleasing smiles of spring!

Coo sweetly, O thou harmless dove, And bid thy mate no longer rove In cold hybernal vales! Let music rise from every tongue, Whilst winter flies before the song Which floats on gentle gales.

Ye frozen streams, dissolve and flow Along the valley sweet and slow! Divested fields, be gay! Ye drooping forests, bloom on high, And raise your branches to the sky; And thus your charms display!

Thou world of heat! thou vital source! The torpid insects feel thy force, Which all with life supplies. Gardens and orchards richly bloom, And send a gale of sweet perfume, To invite them as they rise.

Near where the crystal waters glide The male of birds escorts his bride, And twitters on the spray; He mounts upon his active wing, To hail the bounty of the spring, The lavish pomp of May.

THE GOOD GRANDMOTHER.

BY HARRIET JACOBS.

I had a great treasure in my maternal grandmother, who was a remarkable woman in many respects. She was the daughter of a planter in South Carolina, who, at his death, left her and her mother free, with money to go to St. Augustine, where they had relatives. It was during the Revolutionary War, and they were captured on their passage, carried back, and sold to different purchasers. Such was the story my grandmother used to tell me. She was sold to the keeper of a large hotel, and I have often heard her tell how hard she fared during childhood. But as she grew older she evinced so much intelligence, and was so faithful, that her master and mistress could not help seeing it was for their interest to take care of such a valuable piece of property. She became an indispensable person in the household, officiating in all capacities, from cook and wet-nurse to seamstress. She was much praised for her cooking; and her nice crackers became so famous in the neighborhood that many people were desirous of obtaining them. In consequence of numerous requests of this kind, she asked permission of her mistress to bake crackers at night, after all the household work was done; and she obtained leave to do it, provided she would clothe herself and the children from the profits. Upon these terms, after working hard all day for her mistress, she began her midnight bakings, assisted by her two oldest children. The business proved profitable; and each year she laid by a little, to create a fund for the purchase of her children. Her master died, and his property was divided among the heirs. My grandmother remained in the service of his widow, as a slave. Her children were divided among her master's children; but as she had five, Benjamin, the youngest, was sold, in order that the heirs might have an equal portion of dollars and cents. There was so little difference in our ages, that he always seemed to me more like a brother than an uncle. He was a bright, handsome lad, nearly white; for he inherited the complexion my grandmother had derived from Anglo-Saxon ancestors. His sale was a terrible blow to his mother; but she was naturally hopeful, and she went to work with redoubled energy, trusting in time to be able to purchase her children. One day, her mistress begged the loan of three hundred dollars from the little fund she had laid up from the proceeds of her baking. She promised to pay her soon; but as no promise or writing given to a slave is legally binding, she was obliged to trust solely to her honor.

In my master's house very little attention was paid to the slaves' meals. If they could catch a bit of food while it was going, well and good. But I gave myself no trouble on that score; for on my various errands I passed my grandmother's house, and she always had something to spare for me. I was frequently threatened with punishment if I stopped there; and my grandmother, to avoid detaining me, often stood at the gate with something for my breakfast or dinner. I was indebted to her for all my comforts, spiritual or temporal. It was _her_ labor that supplied my scanty wardrobe. I have a vivid recollection of the linsey-woolsey dress given me every winter by Mrs. Flint. How I hated it! It was one of the badges of Slavery. While my grandmother was thus helping to support me from her hard earnings, the three hundred dollars she lent her mistress was never repaid. When her mistress died, my master, who was her son-in-law, was appointed executor. When grandmother applied to him for payment, he said the estate was insolvent, and the law prohibited payment. It did not, however, prohibit him from retaining the silver candelabra which had been purchased with that money. I presume they will be handed down in the family from generation to generation.

My grandmother's mistress had always promised that at her death she should be free; and it was said that in her will she made good the promise. But when the estate was settled, Dr. Flint told the faithful old servant that, under existing circumstances, it was necessary she should be sold.

On the appointed day the customary advertisement was posted up, proclaiming that there would be "a public sale of negroes, horses, &c." Dr. Flint called to tell my grandmother that he was unwilling to wound her feelings by putting her up at auction, and that he would prefer to dispose of her at private sale. She saw through his hypocrisy, and understood very well that he was ashamed of the job. She was a very spirited woman; and if he was base enough to sell her, after her mistress had made her free by her will, she was determined the public should know it. She had, for a long time, supplied many families with crackers and preserves; consequently "Aunt Marthy," as she was called, was generally known; and all who knew her respected her intelligence and good character. It was also well known that her mistress had intended to leave her free, as a reward for her long and faithful services. When the day of sale came, she took her place among the chattels, and at the first call she sprang upon the auction-block. She was then fifty years old. Many voices called out: "Shame! shame! Who's going to sell _you_, Aunt Marthy? Don't stand there. That's no place for _you_." She made no answer, but quietly awaited her fate. No one bid for her. At last a feeble voice said, "Fifty dollars." It came from a maiden lady, seventy years old, the sister of my grandmother's deceased mistress. She had lived forty years under the same roof with my grandmother; she knew how faithfully she had served her owners, and how cruelly she had been defrauded of her rights, and she resolved to protect her. The auctioneer waited for a higher bid; but her wishes were respected; no one bid above her. The old lady could neither read nor write; and when the bill of sale was made out, she signed it with a cross. But of what consequence was that, when she had a big heart overflowing with human kindness? She gave the faithful old servant her freedom.

My grandmother had always been a mother to her orphan grandchildren, as far as that was possible in a condition of Slavery. Her perseverance and unwearied industry continued unabated after her time was her own, and she soon became mistress of a snug little home, and surrounded herself with the necessaries of life. She would have been happy, if her family could have shared them with her. There remained to her but three children and two grandchildren; and they were all slaves. Most earnestly did she strive to make us feel that it was the will of God; that He had seen fit to place us under such circumstances, and though it seemed hard, we ought to pray for contentment. It was a beautiful faith, coming from a mother who could not call her children her own. But I and Benjamin, her youngest boy, condemned it. It appeared to us that it was much more according to the will of God that we should be free, and able to make a home for ourselves, as she had done. There we always found balsam for our troubles. She was so loving, so sympathizing! She always met us with a smile, and listened with patience to all our sorrows. She spoke so hopefully, that unconsciously the clouds gave place to sunshine. There was a grand big oven there, too, that baked bread and nice things for the town; and we knew there was always a choice bit in store for us. But even the charms of that old oven failed to reconcile us to our hard lot. Benjamin was now a tall, handsome lad, strongly and gracefully made, and with a spirit too bold and daring for a slave.

One day his master attempted to flog him for not obeying his summons quickly enough. Benjamin resisted, and in the struggle threw his master down. To raise his hand against a white man was a great crime, according to the laws of the State; and to avoid a cruel, public whipping, Benjamin hid himself and made his escape. My grandmother was absent, visiting an old friend in the country, when this happened. When she returned, and found her youngest child had fled, great was her sorrow. But, with characteristic piety, she said, "God's will be done." Every morning she inquired whether any news had been heard from her boy. Alas! news did come,--sad news. The master received a letter, and was rejoicing over the capture of his human chattel.

That day seems to me but as yesterday, so well do I remember it. I saw him led through the streets in chains to jail. His face was ghastly pale, but full of determination. He had sent some one to his mother's house to ask her not to come to meet him. He said the sight of her distress would take from him all self-control. Her heart yearned to see him, and she went; but she screened herself in the crowd, that it might be as her child had said.

We were not allowed to visit him. But we had known the jailer for years, and he was a kind-hearted man. At midnight he opened the door for my grandmother and myself to enter, in disguise. When we entered the cell, not a sound broke the stillness. "Benjamin," whispered my grandmother. No answer. "Benjamin!" said she, again, in a faltering tone. There was a jingling of chains. The moon had just risen, and cast an uncertain light through the bars. We knelt down and took Benjamin's cold hands in ours. Sobs alone were heard, while she wept upon his neck. At last Benjamin's lips were unsealed. Mother and son talked together. He asked her pardon for the suffering he had caused her. She told him she had nothing to forgive; that she could not blame him for wanting to be free. He told her that he broke away from his captors, and was about to throw himself into the river, but thoughts of her came over him and arrested the movement. She asked him if he did not also think of God. He replied: "No, mother, I did not. When a man is hunted like a wild beast, he forgets that there _is_ a God."

The pious mother shuddered, as she said: "Don't talk so, Benjamin. Try to be humble, and put your trust in God."

"I wish I had some of your goodness," he replied. "You bear everything patiently, just as though you thought it was all right. I wish I could."

She told him it had not always been so with her; that once she was like him; but when sore troubles came upon her, and she had no arm to lean upon, she learned to call on God, and he lightened her burdens. She besought him to do so likewise.

The jailer came to tell us we had overstayed our time, and we were obliged to hurry away. Grandmother went to the master and tried to intercede for her son. But he was inexorable. He said Benjamin should be made an example of. That he should be kept in jail till he was sold. For three months he remained within the walls of the prison, during which time grandmother secretly conveyed him changes of clothes, and as often as possible carried him something warm for supper, accompanied with some little luxury for her friend the jailer. He was finally sold to a slave-trader from New Orleans. When they fastened irons upon his wrists to drive him off with the coffle, it was heart-rending to hear the groans of that poor mother, as she clung to the Benjamin of her family,--her youngest, her pet. He was pale and thin now, from hardships and long confinement; but still his good looks were so observable that the slave-trader remarked he would give any price for the handsome lad, if he were a girl. We, who knew so well what Slavery was, were thankful that he was not.

Grandmother stifled her grief, and with strong arms and unwavering faith set to work to purchase freedom for Benjamin. She knew the slave-trader would charge three times as much as he gave for him; but she was not discouraged. She employed a lawyer to write to New Orleans, and try to negotiate the business for her. But word came that Benjamin was missing; he had run away again.

Philip, my grandmother's only remaining son, inherited his mother's intelligence. His mistress sometimes trusted him to go with a cargo to New York. One of these occasions occurred not long after Benjamin's second escape. Through God's good providence the brothers met in the streets of New York. It was a happy meeting, though Benjamin was very pale and thin; for on his way from bondage he had been taken violently ill, and brought nigh unto death. Eagerly he embraced his brother, exclaiming: "O Phil! here I am at last. I came nigh dying when I was almost in sight of freedom; and O how I prayed that I might live just to get one breath of free air! And here I am. In the old jail, I used to wish I was dead. But life is worth something now, and it would be hard to die." He begged his brother not to go back to the South, but to stay and work with him till they earned enough to buy their relatives.

Philip replied: "It would kill mother if I deserted her. She has pledged her house, and is working harder than ever to buy you. Will you be bought?"

"Never!" replied Benjamin, in his resolute tone. "When I have got so far out of their clutches, do you suppose, Phil, that I would ever let them be paid one red cent? Do you think I would consent to have mother turned out of her hard-earned home in her old age? And she never to see me after she had bought me? For you know, Phil, she would never leave the South while any of her children or grandchildren remained in Slavery. What a good mother! Tell her to buy _you_, Phil. You have always been a comfort to her; and I have always been making her trouble."

Philip furnished his brother with some clothes, and gave him what money he had. Benjamin pressed his hand, and said, with moistened eyes, "I part from all my kindred." And so it proved. We never heard from him afterwards.

When Uncle Philip came home, the first words he said, on entering the house, were: "O mother, Ben is free! I have seen him in New York." For a moment she seemed bewildered. He laid his hand gently on her shoulder and repeated what he had said. She raised her hands devoutly, and exclaimed, "God be praised! Let us thank Him." She dropped on her knees and poured forth her heart in prayer. When she grew calmer, she begged Philip to sit down and repeat every word her son had said. He told her all, except that Benjamin had nearly died on the way and was looking very pale and thin.

Still the brave old woman toiled on to accomplish the rescue of her remaining children. After a while she succeeded in buying Philip, for whom she paid eight hundred dollars, and came home with the precious document that secured his freedom. The happy mother and son sat by her hearthstone that night, telling how proud they were of each other, and how they would prove to the world that they could take care of themselves, as they had long taken care of others. We all concluded by saying, "He that is _willing_ to be a slave, let him be a slave."

My grandmother had still one daughter remaining in Slavery. She belonged to the same master that I did; and a hard time she had of it. She was a good soul, this old Aunt Nancy. She did all she could to supply the place of my lost mother to us orphans. She was the _factotum_ in our master's household. She was house-keeper, waiting-maid, and everything else: nothing went on well without her, by day or by night. She wore herself out in their service. Grandmother toiled on, hoping to purchase release for her. But one evening word was brought that she had been suddenly attacked with paralysis, and grandmother hastened to her bedside. Mother and daughter had always been devotedly attached to each other; and now they looked lovingly and earnestly into each other's eyes, longing to speak of secrets that weighed on the hearts of both. She lived but two days, and on the last day she was speechless. It was sad to witness the grief of her bereaved mother. She had always been strong to bear, and religious faith still supported her; but her dark life had become still darker, and age and trouble were leaving deep traces on her withered face. The poor old back was fitted to its burden. It bent under it, but did not break.

Uncle Philip asked permission to bury his sister at his own expense; and slaveholders are always ready to grant _such_ favors to slaves and their relatives. The arrangements were very plain, but perfectly respectable. It was talked of by the slaves as a mighty grand funeral. If Northern travellers had been passing through the place, perhaps they would have described it as a beautiful tribute to the humble dead, a touching proof of the attachment between slaveholders and their slaves; and very likely the mistress would have confirmed this impression, with her handkerchief at her eyes. _We_ could have told them how the poor old mother had toiled, year after year, to buy her son Philip's right to his own earnings; and how that same Philip had paid the expenses of the funeral which they regarded as doing so much credit to the master.

There were some redeeming features in our hard destiny. Very pleasant are my recollections of the good old lady who paid fifty dollars for the purpose of making my grandmother free, when she stood on the auction-block. She loved this old lady, whom we all called Miss Fanny. She often took tea at grandmother's house. On such occasions, the table was spread with a snow-white cloth, and the china cups and silver spoons were taken from the old-fashioned buffet. There were hot muffins, tea-rusks, and delicious sweetmeats. My grandmother always had a supply of such articles, because she furnished the ladies of the town with such things for their parties. She kept two cows for that purpose, and the fresh cream was Miss Fanny's delight. She invariably repeated that it was the very best in town. The old ladies had cosey times together. They would work and chat, and sometimes, while talking over old times, their spectacles would get dim with tears, and would have to be taken off and wiped. When Miss Fanny bade us "Good by," her bag was always filled with grandmother's best cakes, and she was urged to come again soon.

[Here follows a long account of persecutions endured by the granddaughter, who tells this story. She finally made her escape, after encountering great dangers and hardships. The faithful old grandmother concealed her for a long time at great risk to them both, during which time she tried in vain to buy free papers for her. At last there came a chance to escape in a vessel Northward bound. She goes on to say:--]

"All arrangements were made for me to go on board at dusk. Grandmother came to me with a small bag of money, which she wanted me to take. I begged her to keep at least part of it; but she insisted, while her tears fell fast, that I should take the whole. 'You may be sick among strangers,' said she; 'and they would send you to the poor-house to die.' Ah, that good grandmother! Though I had the blessed prospect of freedom before me, I felt dreadfully sad at leaving forever that old homestead, that had received and sheltered me in so many sorrows. Grandmother took me by the hand and said, 'My child, let us pray.' We knelt down together, with my arm clasped round the faithful, loving old friend I was about to leave forever. On no other occasion has it been my lot to listen to so fervent a supplication for mercy and protection. It thrilled through my heart and inspired me with trust in God. I staggered into the street, faint in body, though strong of purpose. I did not look back upon the dear old place, though I felt that I should never see it again."

[The granddaughter found friends at the North, and, being uncommonly quick in her perceptions, she soon did much to supply the deficiencies of early education. While leading a worthy, industrious life in New York, she twice very narrowly escaped becoming a victim to the infamous Fugitive Slave Law. A noble-hearted lady purchased her freedom, and thereby rescued her from further danger. She thus closes the story of her venerable ancestor:--]

"My grandmother lived to rejoice in the knowledge of my freedom; but not long afterward a letter came to me with a black seal. It was from a friend at the South, who informed me that she had gone 'where the wicked cease from troubling, and where the weary are at rest.' Among the gloomy recollections of my life in bondage come tender memories of that good grandmother, like a few fleecy clouds floating over a dark and troubled sea."

H. J.

NOTE.--The above account is no fiction. The author, who was thirty years in Slavery, wrote it in an interesting book entitled "Linda." She is an esteemed friend of mine; and I introduce this portion of her story here to illustrate the power of character over circumstances. She has intense sympathy for those who are still suffering in the bondage from which she escaped. She has devoted all her energies to the poor refugees in our camps, comforting the afflicted, nursing the sick, and teaching the children. On the 1st of January, 1863, she wrote me a letter, which began as follows: "I have lived to hear the Proclamation of Freedom for my suffering people. All my wrongs are forgiven. I am more than repaid for all I have endured. Glory to God in the highest!"

L. M. CHILD.

* * * * *

"THEY CANNOT TAKE CARE OF THEMSELVES."

Our tobacco they plant, and our cotton they pick, And our rice they can harvest and thrash; They feed us in health, and they nurse us when sick, And they earn--while we pocket--our cash. They lead us when young, and they help us when old, And their toil loads our tables and shelves; But they're "niggers"; and _therefore_ (the truth must be told) They cannot take care of _themselves_.

REV. JOHN PIERPONT.

THE COLORED MOTHER'S PRAYER.

Great Father! who created all, The colored and the fair, O listen to a mother's call; Hear Thou the negro's prayer!

Yet once again thy people teach, With lessons from above, That they may _practise_ what they _preach_, And _all_ their neighbors love.

Again the Gospel precepts give; Teach them this rule to know,-- Such treatment as ye should _receive_, Be willing to _bestow_.

Then my poor child, my darling one, Will never feel the smart Of their unjust and cruel scorn, That withers all the heart.

Great Father! who created all, The colored and the fair, O listen to a mother's call; Hear Thou the negro's prayer!

WILLIAM COSTIN.

Mr. William Costin was for twenty-four years porter of a bank in Washington, D. C. Many millions of dollars passed through his hands, but not a cent was ever missing, through fraud or carelessness. In his daily life he set an example of purity and benevolence. He adopted four orphan children into his family, and treated them with the kindness of a father. His character inspired general respect; and when he died, in 1842, the newspapers of the city made honorable mention of him. The directors of the bank passed a resolution expressive of their high appreciation of his services, and his coffin was followed to the grave by a very large procession of citizens of all classes and complexions. Not long after, when the Honorable John Quincy Adams was speaking in Congress on the subject of voting, he said: "The late William Costin, though he was not white, was as much respected as any man in the District; and the large concourse of citizens that attended his remains to the grave--as well white as black--was an evidence of the manner in which he was estimated by the citizens of Washington. Now, why should such a man as that be excluded from the elective franchise, when you admit the vilest individuals of the white race to exercise it?"

* * * * *

Strain every nerve, wrestle with every power God and nature have put into your hands, for your place among the races of this Western world.--WENDELL PHILLIPS.

EDUCATION OF CHILDREN.

BY L. MARIA CHILD.

People of all colors and conditions love their offspring; but very few consider sufficiently how much the future character and happiness of their children depend on their own daily language and habits. It does very little good to teach children to be honest if the person who teaches them is not scrupulous about taking other people's property or using it without leave. It does very little good to tell them they ought to be modest, if they are accustomed to hear their elders use unclean words or tell indecent stories. Primers and catechisms may teach them to reverence God, but the lesson will lose half its effect if they habitually hear their parents curse and swear. Some two hundred years ago a very learned astronomer named Sir Isaac Newton lived in England. He was so devout that he always took off his hat when the name of God was mentioned. By that act of reverence he taught a religious lesson to every child who witnessed it. Young souls are fed by what they see and hear, just as their bodies are fed with daily food. No parents who knew what they were doing would give their little ones poisonous food, that would produce fevers, ulcers, and death. It is of far more consequence not to poison their souls; for the body passes away, but the soul is immortal.

When a traveller pointed to a stunted and crooked tree and asked what made it grow so, a child replied, "I suppose somebody trod on it when it was little." It is hard for children born in Slavery to grow up spiritually straight and healthy, because they are trodden on when they are little. Being constantly treated unjustly, they cannot learn to be just. Their parents have no power to protect them from evil influences. They cannot prevent their continually seeing cruel and indecent actions, and hearing profane and dirty words. Heretofore, you could not educate your children, either morally or intellectually. But now that you are freemen, responsibility rests upon you. You will be answerable before God for the influence you exert over the young souls intrusted to your care. You may be too ignorant to teach them much of book-learning, and you may be too poor to spend much money for their education, but you can set them a pure and good example by your conduct and conversation. This you should try your utmost to do, and should pray to the Heavenly Father to help you; for it is a very solemn duty, this rearing of young souls for eternity. That you yourselves have had a stunted growth, from being trodden upon when you were little, will doubtless make you more careful not to tread upon them.

It is necessary that children should be made obedient to their elders, because they are not old enough to know what is good for themselves; but obedience should always be obtained by the gentlest means possible. Violence excites anger and hatred, without doing any good to counterbalance the evil. When it is necessary to punish a child, it should be done in such a calm and reasonable manner as to convince him that you do it for his good, and not because you are in a rage.

Slaves, all the world over, are generally much addicted to lying. The reason is, that if they have done any mischief by carelessness or accident, they dare not tell the truth about it for fear of a cruel flogging. Violent and tyrannical treatment always produces that effect. Wherever children are abused, whether they are white or black, they become very cunning and deceitful; for when the weak are tortured by the strong, they have no other way to save themselves from suffering. Such treatment does not cure faults; it only makes people lie to conceal their faults. If a child does anything wrong, and confesses it frankly, his punishment ought to be slight, in order to encourage him in habits of truthfulness, which is one of the noblest attributes of manhood. If he commits the same fault a second time, even if he confesses it, he ought not to be let off so easily, because it is necessary to teach him that confession, though a very good thing, will not supply the place of repentance. When children are naughty, it is better to deprive them of some pleasant thing that they want to eat or drink or do, than it is to kick and cuff them. It is better to attract them toward what is right than to drive them from what is wrong. Thus if a boy is lazy, it is wiser to promise him reward in proportion to his industry, than it is to cuff and scold him, which will only make him shirk work as soon as you are out of sight. Whereas, if you tell him, "You shall have six cents if you dig one bushel of potatoes, and six cents more if you dig two," he will have a motive that will stimulate him when you are not looking after him. If he is too lazy to be stimulated by such offers, he must be told that he who digs no potatoes must have none to eat.

The moral education which you are all the time giving your children, by what they hear you say and see you do, is of more consequence to them than reading and writing and ciphering. But the education they get at school is also very important; and it will be wise and kind in you to buy such books as they need, and encourage them in every way to become good scholars, as well as good men. By so doing you will not only benefit them, but you will help all your race. Every colored man or woman who is virtuous and intelligent takes away something of prejudice against colored men and women in general; and it likewise encourages all their brethren and sisters, by showing what colored people are capable of doing.

The system of Slavery was all penalty and no attraction; in other words, it punished men if they did _not_ do, but it did not reward them for _doing_. In the management of your children you should do exactly the opposite of this. You should appeal to their manhood, not to their fears. After emancipation in the West Indies, planters who had been violent slaveholders, if they saw a freedman leaning on his hoe, would say, "Work, you black rascal, or I'll flog you"; and the freedman would lean all the longer on his hoe. Planters of a more wise and moderate character, if they saw the emancipated laborers idling away their time, would say, "We expect better things of free men"; and that appeal to their manhood made the hoes fly fast.

Old men and women have been treated with neglect and contempt in Slavery, because they were no longer able to work for the profit of their masters. But respect and tenderness are peculiarly due to the aged. They have done much and suffered much. They are no longer able to help themselves; and we should help them, as they helped us in the feebleness of our infancy, and as we may again need to be helped in the feebleness of age. Any want of kindness or civility toward the old ought to be very seriously rebuked in children; and affectionate attentions should be spoken of as praiseworthy.

Slavery in every way fosters violence. Slave-children, being in the habit of seeing a great deal of beating, early form the habit of kicking and banging each other when they are angry, and of abusing poor helpless animals intrusted to their care. On all such occasions parents should say to them: "Those are the ways of Slavery. We expect better things of free children."

* * * * *

AN HONORABLE RECORD.

In 1837 the colored population in Philadelphia numbered eighteen thousand seven hundred and sixty-eight. Many of them were poor and ignorant, and some of them were vicious; as would be the case with any people under such discouraging influences. But, notwithstanding they were excluded by prejudice from all the most profitable branches of industry, they had acquired property valued at one million three hundred and fifty thousand dollars; five hundred and fifty thousand was in real estate, and eight hundred thousand was personal property. They had built sixteen churches, valued at one hundred and fourteen thousand dollars, for the support of which they annually paid over six thousand dollars. The pauper tax they paid was more than enough to support all the colored paupers in the city. They had eighty benevolent societies, and during that year they had expended fourteen thousand one hundred and seventy-two dollars for the relief of the sick and the helpless. A number of them who had been slaves had paid, in the course of that year, seventy thousand seven hundred and thirty-three dollars to purchase their own freedom, or that of their relatives.

THANK GOD FOR LITTLE CHILDREN.

BY FRANCES E. W. HARPER.

Thank God for little children! Bright flowers by earth's wayside,-- The dancing, joyous life-boats Upon life's stormy tide.

Thank God for little children! When our skies are cold and gray, They come as sunshine to our hearts, And charm our cares away.

I almost think the angels, Who tend life's garden fair, Drop down the sweet wild blossoms That bloom around us here.

It seems a breath of heaven "Round many a cradle lies," And every little baby Brings a message from the skies.

The humblest home, with children, Is rich in precious gems; Better than wealth of monarchs, Or golden diadems.

Dear mothers, guard these jewels As sacred offerings meet,-- A wealth of household treasures, To lay at Jesus' feet.

SAM AND ANDY.

BY HARRIET BEECHER STOWE.

A beautiful slave in Kentucky, named Eliza, had a very handsome little boy. One day she overheard her master making a bargain with a slave-trader by the name of Haley to sell them both. She made her escape that night, taking her child with her. Her mistress, who was much attached to her, and did not want to have her sold, was glad when she heard that Eliza was gone; but her master, who was afraid the trader would think he had helped her off after he had taken the money for her, ordered the horses Bill and Jerry to be brought, and two of his slaves, called Sam and Andy, to go with the slave-trader in pursuit of the fugitive. The way they contrived how _not_ to overtake Eliza is thus told in "Uncle Tom's Cabin":--

"'Sam! Halloo, Sam!' said Andy. 'Mas'r wants you to cotch Bill and Jerry.'

"'High! what's afoot now?' said Sam.

"'Why I s'pose you don't know that Lizy's cut stick, and clared out, with her young un?'

"'You teach your granny!' replied Sam, with infinite contempt; 'knowed it a heap sooner than _you_ did. This nigger a'n't so green, now.'

"'Wal, anyhow, Mas'r wants Bill and Jerry geared right up; and you and I's to go with Mas'r Haley, to look arter her,' said Andy.

"Sam, who had just been contriving how he could make himself of importance on the plantation, exclaimed: 'Good, now! dat's de time o' day! It's Sam dat's called for in dese yere times. _He_'s de nigger. Mas'r'll see what Sam can do!'

"'Ah, you'd better think twice,' said Andy; 'for Missis don't want her cotched, and she'll be in yer wool.'

"'High! how you know dat?' said Sam, opening his eyes.

"'Heard her say so, my own self, dis blessed mornin', when I bring in Mas'r's shaving-water. She sent me to see why Lizy didn't come to dress her; and when I telled her she was off, she jes ris up, and ses she, "The Lord be praised!" Mas'r he seemed rael mad; and ses he, "Wife, you talk like a fool." But, Lor! she'll bring him to. I knows well enough how that'll be. It's allers best to stand Missis's side the fence, now I tell yer,' said Andy.

"Sam scratched his woolly pate, and gave a hitch to his pantaloons, as he had a habit of doing when his mind was perplexed. 'Der a'n't never no sayin' 'bout no kind o' thing in dis yere world,' said he at last. 'Now I'd a said sartin that Missis would a scoured the varsal world after Lizy.'

"'So she would,' said Andy; 'but can't ye see through a ladder, ye black nigger? Missis don't want dis yer Mas'r Haley to get Lizy's boy; dat's de go. And I 'specs you'd better be making tracks for dem hosses,--mighty sudden too,--for I hearn Missis 'quirin' arter yer; so you've stood foolin' long enough.'

"Sam, upon this, began to bestir himself in earnest, and after a while appeared, bearing down gloriously towards the house, with Bill and Jerry in a full canter. Adroitly throwing himself off before they had any idea of stopping, he brought them up alongside the horse-post like a tornado. Haley's horse, which was a skittish young colt, winced and bounced, and pulled hard at his halter.

"'Ho! ho!' said Sam, 'skeery, ar ye?' and his black face lighted up with a curious, mischievous gleam. 'I'll fix ye now,' said he.

"There was a large beech-tree overshadowing the place, and the small, sharp, triangular beech-nuts lay scattered thickly on the ground. Sam stroked and patted the colt, and while pretending to adjust the saddle, he slipped under it a sharp little nut, in such a manner that the least weight brought upon the saddle would annoy the nervous animal, without leaving any perceptible wound.

"'Dar, me fix 'em,' said he, rolling his eyes with an approving grin.

"At this moment Mrs. Shelby appeared on the balcony and beckoned to him. 'Why have you been loitering so, Sam?' said she. 'I sent Andy to tell you to hurry.'

"'Bress you, Missis, hosses won't be cotched all in a minit. They done clared out down to the south pasture, and everywhar,' said Sam.

"'Well, Sam,' replied his mistress, 'you are to go with Mr. Haley to show him the road, and help him. Be careful of the horses, Sam. You know Jerry was a little lame last week. _Don't ride them too fast._' She spoke the last words in a low voice, and with strong emphasis.

"'Let dis chile alone for dat,' said Sam, rolling up his eyes with a look full of meaning. 'Yes, Missis, I'll look out for de hosses.'

"Sam returned to his stand under the beech-tree, and said to Andy, 'Now, Andy, I wouldn't be 't all surprised if dat ar gen'lman's crittur should gib a fling, by and by, when he comes to be a gettin' up. You know, Andy, critturs _will_ do such things'; and Sam poked Andy in the side, in a highly suggestive manner.

"'High!' exclaimed Andy, with an air that showed he understood instantly.

"'Yes, you see, Andy, Missis wants to make time,' said Sam; 'dat ar's cl'ar to der most or'nary 'bserver. I jis make a little for her. Now, you see, get all dese yere hosses loose, caperin' permiscus round dis yere lot, and down to de wood dar, and I 'spec Mas'r won't be off in a hurry.'

"Andy grinned.

"'You see, Andy,' said Sam, 'if any such thing should happen as that Mas'r Haley's hoss _should_ begin to act contrary, and cut up, you and I jist lets go of _our'n_ to help him! O yes, we'll _help_ him!' And Sam and Andy laid their heads back on their shoulders, and broke into a low, immoderate laugh, snapping their fingers, and flourishing their heels with exquisite delight.

"While they were enjoying themselves in this style, Haley appeared on the verandah. Some cups of very good coffee had somewhat mollified him, and he came out smiling and talking in tolerably restored humor. Sam and Andy clawed for their torn hats, and flew to the horse-posts to be ready to 'help Mas'r.' The brim of Sam's hat was all unbraided, and the slivers of the palm-leaf started apart in every direction, giving it a blazing air of freedom and defiance. The brim had gone entirely from Andy's hat; but he thumped the crown on his head, and looked about well pleased, as if to ask, 'Who says I haven't got a hat?'

"'Well, boys,' said Haley, 'be alive now. We must lose no time.'

"'Not a bit of him, Mas'r,' said Sam, putting Haley's rein into his hand and holding his stirrup, while Andy was untying the other two horses.

"The instant Haley touched the saddle the mettlesome creature bounded from the earth with a sudden spring, that threw his master sprawling some feet off, on the dry, soft turf. With frantic ejaculations Sam made a dive at the reins, but only succeeded in brushing the torn slivers of his hat into the horse's eyes, which by no means tended to allay the confusion of his nerves. With two or three contemptuous snorts he upset Sam, flourished his heels vigorously in the air, and pranced away toward the lower end of the lawn. He was followed by Bill and Jerry, whom Andy had not failed to let loose, according to contract, speeding them off with various direful cries. And now there was a scene of great confusion. Sam and Andy ran and shouted; dogs ran barking here and there; Mike, Mose, Mandy, Fanny, and all the smaller specimens on the place, raced, whooped, shouted, and clapped their hands with outrageous zeal. Haley's fleet horse entered into the spirit of the scene with great gusto. He raced round the lawn, which was half a mile in extent, and seemed to take a mischievous delight in letting his pursuers come within a hand's breadth of him, and then whisking off again with a start and a snort.

"Sam's torn hat was seen everywhere. If there seemed to be the least chance that a horse could be caught, down he bore upon him full tilt, shouting, 'Now for it! Cotch him! cotch him!' in a way that set them all to racing again.

"Haley ran up and down, stamped, cursed, and swore. The master in vain tried to give some directions from the balcony, and the mistress looked from her chamber window and laughed. She had some suspicion that Sam was the cause of all this confusion.

"At last, about twelve o'clock, Sam appeared, mounted on Jerry, leading Haley's horse, reeking with sweat, but with flashing eyes and dilated nostrils, showing that the spirit of freedom had not yet entirely subsided.

"'He's cotched!' exclaimed Sam, triumphantly. 'If it hadn't been for me they might a bust themselves, all on 'em; but I cotched him.'

"'_You!_' growled Haley. 'If it hadn't been for _you_, this never would have happened.'

"'Bress us, Mas'r!' exclaimed Sam; 'when it's me that's been a racin' and chasin' till the swet jist pours off me.'

"'Well, well!' said Haley, 'you've lost me near three hours with your cursed nonsense. Now let's be off, and have no more fooling.'

"'Why, Mas'r,' said Sam, in a deprecating tone, 'I do believe you mean to kill us all clar,--hosses and all. Here we are all jist ready to drop down, and the critturs all in a reek o' sweat. Sure Mas'r won't think of startin' now till arter dinner. Mas'r's hoss wants rubben down. See how he's splashed hisself!--and Jerry limps, too. Don't think Missis would be willing to have us start dis yere way, no how. Bress you, Mas'r, we can ketch up, if we stop. Lizy nebber was no great of a walker.'

"The mistress, who, greatly to her amusement, overheard this conversation from the verandah, now came forward and courteously urged Mr. Haley to stay to dinner, saying that the cook should bring it on the table immediately. All things considered, the slave-trader concluded it was best to do so. As he moved toward the parlor, Sam rolled his eyes after him with unutterable meaning, and gravely led the horses to the stable.

"When he had fairly got beyond the shelter of the barn, and fastened the horse to a post, he exclaimed, 'Did you see him, Andy? _Did_ yer see him? O Lor', if it warn't as good as a meetin', now, to see him a dancin' and a kickin', and swarin' at us! Didn't I hear him? Swar away, ole fellow! says I to myself. Will you have yer hoss now, or wait till you cotch him? says I.' And Sam and Andy leaned up against the barn, and laughed to their hearts' content.

"'Yer oughter seen how mad he looked when I brought the hoss up. Lor', he'd a killed me if he durs' to; and there I was a standin' as innercent and humble.'

"'Lor', I seed you,' said Andy. 'A'n't you an old hoss, Sam?'

"'Rather 'specs I am,' said Sam. 'Did you see Missus up stars at the winder? I seed her laughin'.'

"'I'm sure I was racin' so I didn't see nothin,' said Andy.

"'Wal, yer see, I'se 'quired a habit o' bobservation,' said Sam. 'It's a very 'portant habit, Andy; and I 'commend yer to be cultivatin' it, now yer young. Bobservation makes all de difference in niggers. Didn't I see what Missis wanted, though she never let on? Dat ar's bobservation, Andy. I 'specs it's what yer may call a faculty. Faculties is different in different peoples; but cultivation of 'em goes a great way.'

"'I guess if I hadn't helped your bobservation dis mornin', yer wouldn't have seen yer way so smart,' said Andy.

"'You's a promisin' chile, Andy, der a'n't no manner o' doubt,' said Sam. 'I think lots of yer, Andy; and I don't feel no ways ashamed to take idees from yer. Let's go up to the house now, Andy. I'll be boun' Missis'll give us an uncommon good bite dis yere time.'"

"The mistress had promised that dinner should be brought on the table in a hurry, and she had given the orders in Haley's hearing. But the servants all seemed to have an impression that Missis would not be disobliged by delay. Aunt Chloe, the cook, went on with her operations in a very leisurely manner. Then it was wonderful what a number of accidents happened. One upset the butter; another tumbled down with the water, and had to go to the spring for more; another spilled the gravy; then Aunt Chloe set about making new gravy, watching it and stirring it with the greatest precision. If reminded that the orders were to hurry, she answered shortly that she 'warn't a going to have raw gravy on the table, to help nobody's catchin's.'

"From time to time there was giggling in the kitchen, when news was brought that 'Mas'r Haley was mighty oneasy, and that he couldn't set in his cheer no ways, but was a walkin' and stalkin' to the winders and through the porch.'

"'Sarves him right!' said Aunt Chloe. 'He'll git wus nor oneasy, one of these days, if he don't mend his ways.'

"At last the dinner was sent in, and the mistress smiled and chatted, and did all she could to make the time pass imperceptibly.

"At two o'clock, Sam and Andy brought the horses up to the posts, apparently greatly refreshed and invigorated by the scamper of the morning. As Haley prepared to mount, he said, 'Your master don't keep no dogs, I s'pose?'

"'Heaps on 'em,' said Sam, triumphantly. 'Thar's Bruno,--he's a roarer; and besides that, 'bout every nigger of us keeps a pup o' some natur' or uther.'

"'But does your master keep any dogs for tracking out niggers?' said Haley.

"Sam knew very well what he meant, but he kept on a look of desperate simplicity. 'Wal,' said he, 'our dogs all smells round considerable sharp. I 'spect they's the _kind_, though they ha'n't never had no _practice_. They's far dogs at most anything though, if you'd get 'em started.' He whistled to Bruno, a great lumbering Newfoundland dog, who came pitching tumultuously toward them.

"'You go hang!' exclaimed Haley, mounting his horse. 'Come, tumble up, now.'

"Sam tumbled up accordingly, contriving to tickle Andy as he did so. This made Andy split out into a laugh, greatly to Haley's indignation, who made a cut at him with his riding-whip. 'I'se 'stonished at yer, Andy,' said Sam, with awful gravity. 'This yere's a seris bisness, Andy. Yer mustn't be a makin' game. This yere a'n't no way to help Mas'r.'

"When they came to the boundaries of the estate, Haley said: 'I shall take the road to the river. I know the way of all of 'em. They always makes tracks for the underground.'

"'Sartin, dat's de idee,' said Sam. 'Mas'r Haley hits de thing right in de middle. Now, der's two roads to de river,--de dirt road and der pike. Which Mas'r mean to take?'

"Andy looked up innocently at Sam, surprised at hearing this new geographical fact; but he instantly confirmed what Sam said.

"'I'd rather be 'clined to 'magine that Lizy'd take der dirt road, bein' it's the least travelled,' said Sam. Though Haley was an old bird, and inclined to be suspicious of chaff, he was rather brought up by this view of the case. He pondered a moment, and said, 'If yer wasn't both on yer such cussed liars, now!'

"The pensive tone in which this was spoken amused Andy prodigiously. He fell a little behind, and shook so with laughter as to run a great risk of falling from his horse. But Sam's face was immovably composed into the most doleful gravity.

"'Course, Mas'r can do as he'd ruther,' said Sam. 'It's all one to us. When I study 'pon it, I think de straight road is de best.'

"'She would naturally go a lonesome way,' said Haley.

"'I should 'magine so,' said Sam; 'but gals is pecular. Dey nebber does nothin' ye thinks they will; mose gen'lly de contrar; so if yer thinks they've gone one road, it's sartin you'd better go t'other, and then you'll be sure to find 'em. So I think we'd better take de straight road.'

"Haley announced decidedly that he should go the other, and asked when they should come to it.

"'A little piece ahed,' said Sam, giving a wink to Andy. He added gravely, 'I've studded on de matter, and I'm quite clar we ought not to go dat ar way. I nebber been over it no way. It's despit lonesome, and we might lose our way. And now I think on't, I hearn 'em tell dat ar road was all fenced up down by der creek. A'n't it, Andy?'

"Andy wasn't certain; he'd only 'hearn tell' about that road, but had never been over it.

"Haley thought the first mention of the road was involuntary on Sam's part, and that, upon second thoughts, he had lied desperately to dissuade him from taking that direction because he was unwilling to implicate Eliza. Therefore he struck briskly into the road, and was followed by Sam and Andy.

"The road in fact had formerly been an old thoroughfare to the river, but after the laying of the new pike it had been abandoned. It was open for about an hour's ride, and after that it was cut across by various farms and fences. Sam knew this perfectly well; indeed, the road had been so long closed that Andy had never heard of it. He therefore rode along with an air of dutiful submission, only groaning occasionally, and saying it was 'desp't rough, and bad for Jerry's foot.'

"'Now, I jest give yer warning, I know yer,' said Haley. 'Yer won't get me to turn off this yere road, with all yer fussin'; so you shet up.'

"'Mas'r will go his own way,' said Sam, with rueful submission, at the same time winking portentously to Andy, whose delight now was very near the explosive point. Sam was in wonderful spirits. He professed to keep a very brisk lookout. At one time he exclaimed that he saw 'a gal's bunnet' on the top of some distant eminence; at another time, he called out to Andy to ask if 'that thar wasn't Lizy down in the holler.' He was always sure to make these exclamations in some rough or craggy part of the road, where the sudden quickening of speed was a special inconvenience to all parties concerned, thus keeping Haley in a state of constant commotion.

"After riding about an hour in this way, the whole party made a precipitate and tumultuous descent into a barn-yard belonging to a large farming establishment. Not a soul was in sight, all the hands being employed in the fields; but as the barn stood square across the road, it was evident that their journey in that direction had reached its end.

"'You rascal!' said Haley; 'you knew all about this.'

"'Didn't I _tell_ yer I knowed, and yer wouldn't believe me?' replied Sam. 'I telled Mas'r 't was all shet up, and fenced up, and I didn't 'spect we could git through. Andy heard me.'

"This was too true to be disputed, and the unlucky man had to pocket his wrath as well as he could. All three faced to the right about, and took up their line of march for the highway."

[The consequence of all these delays was, that they reached the Ohio River only in season to see Eliza and her child get safely on the other side, by jumping from one mass of floating ice to the other.]

"'The gal's got seven devils in her I believe,' said Haley. 'How like a wild-cat she jumped!'

"'Wal, now,' said Sam, scratching his head, 'I hope Mas'r 'scuse us tryin' dat ar road. Don't think I feel spry enough for dat ar, no way'; and Sam gave a hoarse chuckle.

"'_You_ laugh!' exclaimed the slave-trader, with a growl.

"'I couldn't help it now, Mas'r,' said Sam, giving way to the long pent-up delight of his soul. 'She looked so curis, a leapin' and springin'; ice a crackin'--and only to hear her! plump! ker chunk! ker splash!' and Sam and Andy laughed till the tears rolled down their cheeks.

"'I'll make yer laugh t'other side yer mouths!' exclaimed the trader, laying about their heads with his riding-whip. Both ducked, and ran shouting up the bank. They were on their horses before he could come up with them.

"With much gravity Sam called out: 'Good evening, Mas'r Haley. Won't want us no longer. I 'spect Missis be anxious 'bout Jerry. Missis wouldn't hear of our ridin' the critturs over Lizy's bridge to-night.' With a poke into Andy's ribs, they started off at full speed, their shouts of laughter coming faintly on the wind.

"Sam was in the highest possible feather. He expressed his exultation by all sorts of howls and ejaculations, and by divers odd motions and contortions of his whole system. Sometimes he would sit backward with his face to the horse's tail; then, with a whoop and a somerset, he would come right side up in his place again; and, drawing on a grave face, he would begin to lecture Andy for laughing and playing the fool. Anon, slapping his sides with his arms, he would burst forth in peals of laughter, that made the old woods ring as they passed. With all these evolutions, he contrived to keep the horses up to the top of their speed, until, between ten and eleven, their heels resounded on the gravel at the end of the balcony.

"His mistress flew to the railings, and called out, 'Is that you, Sam? Where are they?'

"'Mas'r Haley's a restin' at the tavern,' said Sam. 'He's drefful fatigued, Missis.'

"'And Eliza, where is she, Sam?'

"'Wal, Missis, de Lord he persarves his own. Lizy's done gone over the river into 'Hio; as 'markably as if de Lord took her over in a chariot of fire and two hosses.'

"His master, who had followed his wife to the verandah, said, 'Come up here, and tell your mistress what she wants to know.'

"Sam soon appeared at the parlor-door, hat in hand. In answer to their questions, he told his story in lively style. 'Dis yere's a providence, and no mistake,' said Sam, piously rolling up his eyes. 'As Missis has allers been instructin' on us, thar's allers instruments ris up to do de Lord's will. Now if it hadn't been for me to-day, Lizy'd been took a dozen times. Warn't it I started off de hosses, dis yere mornin', and kept 'em chasin' till dinner time? And didn't I car Mas'r Haley five miles out of de road dis evening? else he'd a come up with Lizy, as easy as a dog arter a coon. Dese yere's all providences!'

"With as much sternness as he could command under the circumstances, his master said, 'They are a kind of providences that you'll have to be pretty sparing of, Sam. I allow no such practices with gentlemen on my place.'

"Sam stood with the corners of his mouth lowered, in most penitential style. 'Mas'r's quite right,' said he. 'It was ugly on me; thar's no disputin' that ar; and of course Mas'r and Missis wouldn't encourage no such works. I'm sensible ob dat ar. But a poor nigger like me's 'mazin' tempted to act ugly sometimes, when fellers will cut up such shines as dat ar Mas'r Haley. He a'n't no gen'l'man no way. Anybody's been raised as I've been can't help a seein' dat ar.'

"'Well, Sam,' said his mistress, 'as you seem to have a proper sense of your errors, you may go now and tell Aunt Chloe she may get you some of that cold ham that was left of dinner to-day. You and Andy must be hungry.'

"'Missis is a heap too good for us,' said Sam, making his bow with alacrity and departing.

"Having done up his piety and humility, to the satisfaction of the parlor, as he trusted, he clapped his palm-leaf on his head with a sort of free-and-easy air, and proceeded to the dominions of Aunt Chloe, with the intention of flourishing largely in the kitchen."

JOHN BROWN AND THE COLORED CHILD.

BY L. MARIA CHILD.

[When John Brown went from the jail to the gallows, in Charlestown, Virginia, December 2, 1859, he stooped to kiss a little colored child.]

A winter sunshine, still and bright, The Blue Hills bathed with golden light, And earth was smiling to the sky, When calmly he went forth to die.

Infernal passions festered there, Where peaceful Nature looked so fair; And fiercely, in the morning sun, Flashed glitt'ring bayonet and gun.

The old man met no friendly eye, When last he looked on earth and sky; But one small child, with timid air, Was gazing on his hoary hair.

As that dark brow to his upturned, The tender heart within him yearned; And, fondly stooping o'er her face, He kissed her for her injured race.

The little one she knew not why That kind old man went forth to die; Nor why, 'mid all that pomp and stir, He stooped to give a kiss to _her_.

But Jesus smiled that sight to see, And said, "He did it unto _me_." The golden harps then sweetly rung, And this the song the angels sung:

"Who loves the poor doth love the Lord; Earth cannot dim thy bright reward: We hover o'er yon gallows high, And wait to bear thee to the sky."

* * * * *

John Brown, on his way to the scaffold, stooped to take up a slave-child. That closing example was the legacy of the dying man to his country. That benediction we must continue and fulfil. In this new order, equality, long postponed, shall become the master-principle of our system, and the very frontispiece of our Constitution.--HON. CHARLES SUMNER.

* * * * *

Christ told me to remember those in bonds as bound with them; to do toward them as I should wish them to do toward me in similar circumstances. My conscience bade me to do that. Therefore I have no regret for the transaction for which I am condemned. I think I feel as happy as Paul did when he lay in prison. He knew if they killed him it would greatly advance the cause of Christ. That was the reason he rejoiced. On that same ground "I do rejoice, yea, and will rejoice."--JOHN BROWN.

THE AIR OF FREEDOM.

BY FRANCES E. W. HARPER.

[Written at Niagara Falls in 1856.]

I have just returned from Canada. I have gazed for the first time upon free land. Would you believe it? the tears sprang to my eyes, and I wept. It was a glorious sight to gaze, for the first time, on the land where a poor slave, flying from our land of boasted liberty, would in a moment find his fetters broken and his shackles loosed. Whatever he was in the land of Washington, in the shadow of Bunker Hill Monument, or even upon Plymouth Rock, _here_ he becomes "a man and a brother."

I had gazed on Harper's Ferry, or rather the Rock at the Ferry, towering up in simple grandeur, with the gentle Potomac gliding peacefully at its feet; and I felt that it was God's masonry. My soul expanded while gazing on its sublimity. I had heard the ocean singing its wild chorus of sounding waves, and the living chords of my heart thrilled with ecstasy. I have since seen the rainbow-crowned Niagara, girdled with grandeur and robed with glory, chanting the choral hymn of omnipotence; but none of these sights have melted me, as did the first sight of free land.

Towering mountains, lifting their hoary summits to catch the first faint flush of day, when the sunbeams kiss the shadows from morning's drowsy face, may expand and exalt your soul; the first view of the ocean may fill you with strange delight; the great, the glorious Niagara may hush your spirit with its ceaseless thunder,--it may charm you with its robe of crested spray, and with its rainbow crown: but the land of freedom has a lesson of deeper significance than foaming waves and towering mountains. It carries the heart back to that heroic struggle in Great Britain for the emancipation of the slaves, in which the great heart of the people throbbed for liberty, and the mighty pulse of the nation beat for freedom, till eight hundred thousand men, women, and children in the West Indies arose redeemed from bondage and freed from chains.

EMANCIPATION IN THE DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA, APRIL 16, 1862.

BY JAMES MADISON BELL.

Unfurl your banners to the breeze! Let Freedom's tocsin sound amain, Until the islands of the seas Re-echo with the glad refrain! Columbia's free! Columbia's free! Her teeming streets, her vine-clad groves, Are sacred now to Liberty, And God, who every right approves.

Thank God, the Capital is free! The slaver's pen, the auction-block, The gory lash of cruelty, No more this nation's pride shall mock; No more, within those ten miles square, Shall men be bought and women sold; Nor infants, sable-hued and fair, Exchanged again for paltry gold.

To-day the Capital is free! And free those halls where Adams stood To plead for man's humanity, And for a common brotherhood; Where Sumner stood, with massive frame, Whose eloquent philosophy Has clustered round his deathless name Bright laurels for eternity;

Where Wilson, Lovejoy, Wade, and Hale, And other lights of equal power, Have stood, like warriors clad in mail, Before the giant of the hour,-- Co-workers in a common cause, Laboring for their country's weal, By just enactments, righteous laws, And burning, eloquent appeal.

To them we owe and gladly bring The grateful tributes of our hearts; And while we live to muse and sing, These in our songs shall claim their parts. To-day Columbia's air doth seem Much purer than in days agone; And now her mighty heart, I deem, Hath lighter grown by marching on.

THE LAWS OF HEALTH.

BY L. MARIA CHILD.

There are three things peculiarly essential to health,--plenty of fresh water, plenty of pure air, and enough of nourishing food.

If possible, the human body should be washed all over every day; but if circumstances render that difficult, the operation should be performed at least two or three times a week. People in general are not aware how important frequent bathing is. The cuticle, or skin, with which the human body is covered, is like fine net-work, or lace. By help of a magnifying-glass, called a microscope, it can be seen that there are a thousand holes in every inch of our skin. In the skin of a middle-sized man there are two millions three hundred and four thousand of these holes, called pores. Those pores are the mouths of exceedingly small vessels made to carry off fluids, which are continually formed in the human body, and need to be continually carried off. This process is going on all the time, whether we are sleeping or waking, hot or cold. When we are cool and at rest, that which passes off is invisible; and because we see no signs of it, and are not sensible of it, it is called insensible perspiration. But in very hot weather, or when we exercise violently, a saltish fluid passes through our pores in great drops, which we call sweat; and because we can see and feel it, it is called sensible perspiration. If the pores of the body are filled up with dust, or any kind of dirt, the fluids cannot pass off through them, as Nature intended; and, being shut up, they become corrupt and produce fevers and bad humors. This is the reason why physicians always advise people to be careful and keep their pores open. In order to do this, dust and dirt should be frequently washed away. Many a fever and many a troublesome sore might be prevented by frequent bathing. Moreover, the skin looks smoother and handsomer when it is washed often. If a pond or river is near by, it is well to swim a few minutes every day or two; if not, the body should be washed with a pail of water and a rag. But it is not safe to go into cold water, or to apply it to the skin, when you are very much heated; nor is it safe to drink much cold water until you get somewhat cool. The best way is to plunge into water when you first get up in the morning, and then rub yourself with a cloth till you feel all of a glow. It takes but a few minutes, and you will feel more vigorous for it all day. Cool water is more healthy to wash in than warm water. It makes a person feel stronger, and it is not attended with any danger of catching cold afterward. But water directly from the well is too chilly; it is better to use it when it has been standing in the house some hours. Garments worn next to the skin, and the sheets in which you sleep, imbibe something of the fluids all the time passing from the body; therefore they should be washed every week. I am aware that, as slaves, you had no beds or sheets; but as free men I hope you will gradually be able to provide yourselves with such comforts. Meanwhile, sleep in the cleanest way that you can; for that is one way to avoid sickness. When the skin is hot and feverish, it does a great deal of good to wipe the face, arms, and legs with a cloth moistened with cool water, changed occasionally. Headache is often cured by placing the feet in cool water a minute or two, and then rubbing them smartly with a dry cloth. Sitting in cool water fifteen or twenty minutes is also a remedy for headache or dizziness. A cut or bruise heals much quicker if it is soaked ten or fifteen minutes in cool water, then wrapped in six or eight folds of wet rag, and covered with a piece of dry cloth. The rag should be moistened again when it gets dry. This simple process subdues the heat and fever of a wound. When the throat is sore, it is an excellent thing to wash the outside freely with cold water the first thing in the morning, and then wipe it very dry. A wet bandage at night, covered with a dry cloth, to keep it from the air, often proves very comforting when the throat is inflamed. Indeed, it is scarcely possible to say too much in favor of using cool water freely, at suitable times.

Fresh air is as important as good water. The lungs of the human body are all the time drawing in air and breathing out air. What we breathe out carries away with it something from our bodies. Therefore it is unhealthy to be in a room with many people, without doors or windows open; for the people draw in all the fresh air, and what they breathe out is more or less corrupted by having passed through their bodies. It is very important to health to have plenty of pure fresh air to breathe. No dirty things, or decaying substances, such as cabbage leaves or mouldy vegetables, or pools of stagnant water, should be allowed to remain anywhere near a dwelling. The pools should be filled up, and the decaying things should be carried away from the house, heaped up and covered with earth to make manure for the garden. If there is not room enough to do that, they should be buried in the ground. Whole families often have fevers from breathing the bad odors that rise from such things. It is morally wrong to indulge in any habits that injure the health or well-being of others. The bed, and the coverings of the bed, should have fresh air let in upon them every day; otherwise, they retain the fluids which are passing from the body all the time. In England, children that worked in large manufactories became pale and sickly and died off fast. When doctors inquired into it, they found that the poor little creatures crept into the same bedclothes week after week, and month after month, without having them washed or aired.

Occasional change in articles of food is healthy, as well as agreeable; but it is injurious to eat a great variety of things at the same meal. There are two good rules, so very simple that everybody, rich or poor, can observe them: First, never indulge yourself in eating what you have found by experience does not agree with you; secondly, when you have eaten enough, do not continue to eat merely because the food tastes good. It is foolish to derange the stomach for a long time to please the palate for a short time.

If you have oppressed feelings in the head, or sour and bitter tastes in the mouth, or a tendency to sickishness, take nothing but bread and water for two or three days, and you will be very likely to save yourself from a fever.

People might spare themselves many a toothache if they would rinse their mouths after every meal, and every night, before going to bed, remove every particle of food from between the teeth, and rinse them thoroughly with water. New toothpicks should be made often, for the sake of cleanliness.

Dirt was a necessity of Slavery; and that is one reason, among many others, why freemen should hate it, and try to put it away from their minds, their persons, and their habitations.

PRESIDENT LINCOLN'S PROCLAMATION OF EMANCIPATION, JANUARY 1, 1863.

BY FRANCES E. W. HARPER.

It shall flash through coming ages, It shall light the distant years; And eyes now dim with sorrow Shall be brighter through their tears.

It shall flush the mountain ranges, And the valleys shall grow bright; It shall bathe the hills in radiance, And crown their brows with light.

It shall flood with golden splendor All the huts of Caroline; And the sun-kissed brow of labor With lustre new shall shine.

It shall gild the gloomy prison, Darkened by the nation's crime, Where the dumb and patient millions Wait the better-coming time.

By the light that gilds their prison They shall see its mouldering key; And the bolts and bars shall vibrate With the triumphs of the free.

Though the morning seemed to linger O'er the hill-tops far away, Now the shadows bear the promise Of the quickly coming day.

Soon the mists and murky shadows Shall be fringed with crimson light, And the glorious dawn of freedom Break refulgent on the sight.

NEW-YEAR'S DAY ON THE ISLANDS OF SOUTH CAROLINA, 1863.

BY CHARLOTTE L. FORTEN.

A few days before Christmas we were delighted at receiving a beautiful Christmas Hymn from John G. Whittier, written especially for our children. They learned it very easily, and enjoyed singing it. We showed them the writer's picture, and told them he was a very good friend of theirs, who felt the deepest interest in them, and had written this Hymn expressly for them to sing. This made them very proud and happy.

Early Christmas morning we were wakened by the people knocking at the doors and windows, and shouting "Merry Christmas!" After distributing some little presents among them, we went to the church, which had been decorated with holly, pine, cassena, mistletoe, and the hanging moss, and had a very Christmas-like look. The children of our school assembled there, and we gave them the nice comfortable clothing and the picture-books which had been kindly sent by some Philadelphia ladies. There were at least a hundred and fifty children present. It was very pleasant to see their happy, expectant little faces. To them it was a wonderful Christmas-day, such as they had never dreamed of before. There was cheerful sunshine without, lighting up the beautiful moss drapery of the oaks, and looking in joyously through the open windows; and there were bright faces and glad hearts within.

After the distribution of the gifts, the children were addressed by some of the gentlemen present. Then they sang the following Hymn, which their good friend Whittier had written for them:--

"O, none in all the world before Were ever so glad as we! We're free on Carolina's shore, We're all at home and free.

"Thou Friend and Helper of the poor, Who suffered for our sake, To open every prison-door, And every yoke to break,--

"Bend low thy pitying face and mild, And help us sing and pray; The hand that blest the little child Upon our foreheads lay.

"We hear no more the driver's horn, No more the whip we fear; This holy day that saw thee born Was never half so dear.

"The very oaks are greener clad, The waters brighter smile; O, never shone a day so glad On sweet St. Helen's Isle.

"We praise Thee in our songs to-day, To Thee in prayer we call; Make swift the feet and straight the way Of freedom unto all.

"Come once again, O blessed Lord! Come walking on the sea! And let the mainlands hear the word That sets the islands free!"

Then they sang John Brown's Hallelujah Song, and several of their own hymns.

Christmas night, the children came in and had several grand shouts. They were too happy to keep still. One of them, a cunning, kittenish little creature, named Amaretta, only six years old, has a remarkably sweet voice. "O Miss," said she, "all I want to do is to sing and shout!" And sing and shout she did, to her heart's content. She reads nicely, and is very fond of books. Many of the children already know their letters. The parents are eager to have them learn. They sometimes say to me: "Do, Miss, let de children learn eberyting dey can. We neber hab no chance to learn nuttin'; but we wants de chillen to learn." They are willing to make many sacrifices that their children may attend school. One old woman, who had a large family of children and grandchildren, came regularly to school in the winter, and took her seat among the little ones. Another woman, who had one of the best faces I ever saw, came daily, and brought her baby in her arms. It happened to be one of the best babies in the world, and allowed its mother to pursue her studies without interruption.

New-Year's Day, Emancipation Day, was a glorious one to us. General Saxton and Colonel Higginson had invited us to visit the camp of the First Regiment of South Carolina Volunteers on that day, "the greatest day in the nation's history." We enjoyed perfectly the exciting scene on board the steamboat Flora. There was an eager, wondering crowd of the freed people, in their holiday attire, with the gayest of headkerchiefs, the whitest of aprons, and the happiest of faces. The band was playing, the flags were streaming, and everybody was talking merrily and feeling happy. The sun shone brightly, and the very waves seemed to partake of the universal gayety, for they danced and sparkled more joyously than ever before. Long before we reached Camp Saxton, we could see the beautiful grove and the ruins of the old fort near it. Some companies of the First Regiment were drawn up in line under the trees near the landing, ready to receive us. They were a fine, soldierly looking set of men, and their brilliant dress made a splendid appearance among the trees. It was my good fortune to find an old friend among the officers. He took us over the camp and showed us all the arrangements. Everything looked clean and comfortable; much neater, we were told, than in most of the white camps. An officer told us that he had never seen a regiment in which the men were so honest. "In many other camps," said he, "the Colonel and the rest of us would find it necessary to place a guard before our tents. We never do it here. Our tents are left entirely unguarded, but nothing has ever been touched." We were glad to know that. It is a remarkable fact, when we consider that the men of this regiment have all their lives been slaves; for we all know that Slavery does not tend to make men honest.

The ceremony in honor of Emancipation took place in the beautiful grove of live-oaks adjoining the camp. I wish it were possible to describe fitly the scene which met our eyes, as we sat upon the stand, and looked down on the crowd before us. There were the black soldiers in their blue coats and scarlet pantaloons; the officers of the First Regiment, and of other regiments, in their handsome uniforms; and there were crowds of lookers-on, men, women, and children, of every complexion, grouped in various attitudes, under the moss-hung trees. The faces of all wore a happy, interested look. The exercises commenced with a prayer by the chaplain of the regiment. An ode, written for the occasion, was then read and sung. President Lincoln's Proclamation of Emancipation was then read, and enthusiastically cheered. The Rev. Mr. French presented Colonel Higginson with two very elegant flags, a gift to the First Regiment, from the Church of the Puritans, in New York. He accompanied them by an appropriate and enthusiastic speech. As Colonel Higginson took the flags, before he had time to reply to the speech, some of the colored people, of their own accord, began to sing,--

"My country, 'tis of thee, Sweet land of liberty, Of thee we sing!"

It was a touching and beautiful incident, and sent a thrill through all our hearts. The Colonel was deeply moved by it. He said that reply was far more effective than any speech he could make. But he did make one of those stirring speeches which are "half battles." All hearts swelled with emotion as we listened to his glorious words, "stirring the soul like the sound of a trumpet." His soldiers are warmly attached to him, and he evidently feels toward them all as if they were his children.

General Saxton spoke also, and was received with great enthusiasm. Throughout the morning, repeated cheers were given for him by the regiment, and joined in heartily by all the people. They know him to be one of the best and noblest men in the world. His unfailing kindness and consideration for them, so different from the treatment they have sometimes received at the hands of United States officers, have caused them to have unbounded confidence in him.

At the close of Colonel Higginson's speech, he presented the flags to the color-bearers, Sergeant Rivers and Sergeant Sutton, with an earnest charge, to which they made appropriate replies.

Mrs. Gage uttered some earnest words, and then the regiment sang John Brown's Hallelujah Song.

After the meeting was over, we saw the dress-parade, which was a brilliant and beautiful sight. An officer told us that the men went through the drill remarkably well, and learned the movements with wonderful ease and rapidity. To us it seemed strange as a miracle to see this regiment of blacks, the first mustered into the service of the United States, thus doing itself honor in the sight of officers of other regiments, many of whom doubtless came to scoff. The men afterward had a great feast; ten oxen having been roasted whole, for their especial benefit.

In the evening there was the softest, loveliest moonlight. We were very unwilling to go home; for, besides the attractive society, we knew that the soldiers were to have grand shouts and a general jubilee that night. But the steamboat was coming, and we were obliged to bid a reluctant farewell to Camp Saxton and the hospitable dwellers therein. We walked the deck of the steamer singing patriotic songs, and we agreed that moonlight and water had never looked so beautiful as they did that night. At Beaufort we took the row-boat for St. Helena. The boatmen as they rowed sang some of their sweetest, wildest hymns. It was a fitting close to such a day. Our hearts were filled with an exceeding great gladness; for although the government had left much undone, we knew that Freedom was surely born in our land that day. It seemed too glorious a good to realize, this beginning of the great work we had so longed for and prayed for. It was a sight never to be forgotten, that crowd of happy black faces from which the shadow of Slavery had forever passed. "Forever free! forever free!"--those magical words in the President's Proclamation were constantly singing themselves in my soul.

SONG OF THE NEGRO BOATMEN AT PORT ROYAL, S. C.

BY JOHN G. WHITTIER.

O praise and tanks! De Lord he come To set de people free; An' massa tink it day ob doom, An' we ob jubilee. De Lord dat heap de Red Sea waves, He jus' as 'trong as den; He say de word: we las' night slaves; To-day, de Lord's free men. De yam will grow, de cotton blow, We'll hab de rice an' corn: O nebber you fear, if nebber you hear De driver blow his horn!

Ole massa on he trabbels gone; He leaf de land behind: De Lord's breff blow him furder on, Like corn-shuck in de wind. We own de hoe, we own de plough, We own de hands dat hold; We sell de pig, we sell de cow, But nebber chile be sold.

We pray de Lord: he gib us signs Dat some day we be free; De Norf-wind tell it to de pines, De wild-duck to de sea; We tink it when de church-bell ring, We dream it in de dream; De rice-bird mean it when he sing, De eagle when he scream.

We know de promise nebber fail, An' nebber lie de Word; So, like de 'postles in de jail, We waited for de Lord: An' now he open ebery door, An' trow away de key; He tink we lub him so before, We lub him better free. De yam will grow, de cotton blow, He'll gib de rice an' corn: O nebber you fear, if nebber you hear De driver blow his horn!

EXTRACT FROM SPEECH BY HON. HENRY WILSON TO THE COLORED PEOPLE IN CHARLESTON, S. C., APRIL, 1865.

"For twenty-nine years, in private life and in public life, at all times and on all occasions, I have spoken and voted against Slavery, and in favor of the freedom of every man that breathes God's air or walks His earth. And to-day, standing here in South Carolina, I feel that the slave-power we have fought so long is under my heel; and that the men and women held in bondage so long are free forevermore.

"Understanding this to be your position,--that you are forever free,--remember, O remember, the sacrifices that have been made for your freedom, and be worthy of the blessing that has come to you! I know you will be. [Cheers.] Through these four years of bloody war, you have always been loyal to the old flag of the country. You have never betrayed the Union soldiers who were fighting the battles of the country. You have guided them, you have protected them, you have cheered them. You have proved yourselves worthy the great situation in which you were placed by the Slaveholders' Rebellion. Four years ago you saw the flag of your country struck down from Fort Sumter; yesterday you saw the old flag go up again. Its stars now beam with a brighter lustre. You know now what the old flag means,--that it means liberty to every man and woman in the country. [Cheers.]

"You have been patient, you have endured, you have trusted in God and your country; and the God of our fathers has blessed our country, and He has blessed you. The long, dreary, chilly night of Slavery has passed away forevermore, and the sun of Liberty casts its broad beams upon you to-day.

"But your duties commence with your liberties. Remember that you are to be obedient, faithful, true, and loyal to the country forevermore. [Cheers, and cries of 'Yes!' 'Yes!' 'Yes!'] Remember that you are to educate your children; that you are to improve their condition; that you are to make a brighter future for _them_ than the past has been to _you_. Remember that you are to be industrious. Freedom does not mean that you are not to work. It means that when you do work you shall have pay for it, to carry home to your wives and the children of your love. Liberty means the liberty to work for yourselves, to have the fruits of your labor, to better your own condition, and improve the condition of your children. I want every man and woman to understand that every neglect of duty, every failure to be industrious, to be economical, to support yourselves, to take care of your families, to secure the education of your children, will be put in the faces of your friends as a reproach. Your old masters will point you out and say to us, 'We told you so.' For more than thirty years we have said that you were fit for liberty. We have maintained it amid obloquy and reproach. For maintaining this doctrine in the halls of Congress our names have been made a by-word. The great lesson for you in the future is to prove that we were right; to prove that you were worthy of liberty. We simply ask you, in the name of your friends, in the name of our country, to show by your good conduct, and by efforts to improve your condition, that you were worthy of freedom; to prove to all the world, even to your old masters and mistresses, that it was a sin against God to hold you in Slavery, and that you are worthy to have your names enrolled among the freemen of the United States of America. [Great cheering.]

"We want you to respect yourselves; to walk erect, with the consciousness that you are free men. Be humane and kind to each other, always serving each other when you can. Be courteous and gentlemanly to everybody on earth, black and white, but cringe to nobody.

"You have helped us to fight our battles; you have stood by the old flag; you have given us your prayers; and you have had the desire of your hearts fulfilled. The cause of freedom has triumphed; and in our triumph we want all to stand up and rejoice together."

EXTRACT FROM A SPEECH BY HON. JUDGE KELLY TO THE COLORED PEOPLE IN CHARLESTON, S. C., APRIL, 1865.

"I will not, my colored friends, talk to you of the past. You understand that all too well. I turn to the hopeful future; not to flatter you for the deeds you have done during the last four years, but to remind you that, though you no longer have earthly masters, there is a Ruler in heaven whom you are bound to obey,--that Great Being who strengthened and guided your eminent friend William Lloyd Garrison, who trained Abraham Lincoln for his great work, in honest poverty and simple-mindedness; that good God whose stars shine the same over the slaves' huts and the masters' palaces. His laws you must obey. You must worship Him not only at the altar, but in every act of your daily life. It will not be enough to observe the Sabbath, to go to Him with your sorrows, and remember Him in your joys. You must remember that He has said to man, 'In the sweat of thy brow shalt thou eat thy bread.' Labor is the law of all. Your friends in the North appeal to you to help them in the great work they undertook to do for you. We want you to work _with_ us. We want you to do it by working here in South Carolina, earning wages, taking care of your money, and making profit out of that money. Work on the plantation, if that is all you can do. If you can work in the workshop, do it, and work well. He who does a day's work not so well as he might have done it, cheats himself. Strive that your work on Monday shall be better done than it was on Saturday; and when Saturday comes round again, you will be able to do a still more skilful day's work. We at the North sometimes learn three or four trades. If any one of you feels sure that he can do better for himself and his family by changing his pursuit, he had better change it."

"I like to look at the women assembled here. Remember, my friends, that you are to be mothers and wives in the homes of free men. You must try to make those homes respectable and happy. You are to be the mothers of American citizens. You must give them the best education you can. You must strive to make them intelligent, educated, moral, patriotic, and religious men. Many of you cannot read, but you are not too old yet to learn. A mother who knows how to read can half educate her own child by helping him with his lessons; and the mother who has but little learning will get a great deal more by trying to hear the child's lessons; and so it is with the father.

"You need no longer live in slave huts, now that you are to have your own earnings. I charge you, men, to make your homes comfortable, and you, women, to make them happy. Work industriously. Be faithful to each other; be true and honest with all men. If you respect yourselves, others will respect you. There are Northerners who are prejudiced against you; but you can find the way to their hearts and consciences through their pockets. When they find that there are colored tradesmen who have money to spend, and colored farmers who want to buy goods of them, they will no longer call you Jack and Joe; they will begin to think that you are Mr. John Black and Mr. Joseph Brown." [Great laughter.]

BLACK TOM.

BY A YANKEE SOLDIER.

Hunted by his Rebel master Over many a hill and glade, Black Tom, with his wife and children, Found his way to our brigade.

Tom had sense and truth and courage, Often tried where danger rose: Once our flag his strong arm rescued From the grasp of Rebel foes.

One day, Tom was marching with us Through the forest as our guide, When a ball from traitor's rifle Broke his arm and pierced his side.

On a litter white men bore him Through the forest drear and damp, Laid him, dying, where our banners Brightly fluttered o'er our camp.

Pointing to his wife and children, While he suffered racking pain, Said he to our soldiers round him, "Don't let _them_ be slaves again!"

"No, by Heaven!" spoke out a soldier,-- And _that_ oath was not profane,-- "Our brigade will still protect them; They shall ne'er be slaves again."

Over old Tom's dusky features Came and stayed a joyous ray; And with saddened friends around him, His free spirit passed away.

* * * * *

At Rodman's Point, in North Carolina, the United States troops were obliged to retreat before Rebels, who outnumbered them ten to one. The scow in which they attempted to escape stuck in the mud, and could not be moved with poles. While the soldiers were lying down they were in some measure protected from Rebel bullets; but whoever jumped into the water to push the boat off would certainly be killed. A vigorous black man who was with them said: "Lie still. I will push off the boat. If they kill me, it is nothing; but you are soldiers, and are needed to fight for the country." He leaped overboard, pushed off the boat, and sprang back, pierced by seven bullets. He died two days after.

I wish I knew his name; for it deserves to be recorded with the noblest heroes the world has known.

LETTER FROM A FREEDMAN TO HIS OLD MASTER.

[Written just as he dictated it.]

DAYTON, OHIO, August 7, 1865.

_To my old Master_, COLONEL P. H. ANDERSON, _Big Spring, Tennessee_.

Sir: I got your letter, and was glad to find that you had not forgotten Jourdon, and that you wanted me to come back and live with you again, promising to do better for me than anybody else can. I have often felt uneasy about you. I thought the Yankees would have hung you long before this, for harboring Rebs they found at your house. I suppose they never heard about your going to Colonel Martin's to kill the Union soldier that was left by his company in their stable. Although you shot at me twice before I left you, I did not want to hear of your being hurt, and am glad you are still living. It would do me good to go back to the dear old home again, and see Miss Mary and Miss Martha and Allen, Esther, Green, and Lee. Give my love to them all, and tell them I hope we will meet in the better world, if not in this. I would have gone back to see you all when I was working in the Nashville Hospital, but one of the neighbors told me that Henry intended to shoot me if he ever got a chance.

I want to know particularly what the good chance is you propose to give me. I am doing tolerably well here. I get twenty-five dollars a month, with victuals and clothing; have a comfortable home for Mandy,--the folks call her Mrs. Anderson,--and the children--Milly, Jane, and Grundy--go to school and are learning well. The teacher says Grundy has a head for a preacher. They go to Sunday school, and Mandy and me attend church regularly. We are kindly treated. Sometimes we overhear others saying, "Them colored people were slaves" down in Tennessee. The children feel hurt when they hear such remarks; but I tell them it was no disgrace in Tennessee to belong to Colonel Anderson. Many darkeys would have been proud, as I used to be, to call you master. Now if you will write and say what wages you will give me, I will be better able to decide whether it would be to my advantage to move back again.

As to my freedom, which you say I can have, there is nothing to be gained on that score, as I got my free papers in 1864 from the Provost-Marshal-General of the Department of Nashville. Mandy says she would be afraid to go back without some proof that you were disposed to treat us justly and kindly; and we have concluded to test your sincerity by asking you to send us our wages for the time we served you. This will make us forget and forgive old scores, and rely on your justice and friendship in the future. I served you faithfully for thirty-two years, and Mandy twenty years. At twenty-five dollars a month for me, and two dollars a week for Mandy, our earnings would amount to eleven thousand six hundred and eighty dollars. Add to this the interest for the time our wages have been kept back, and deduct what you paid for our clothing, and three doctor's visits to me, and pulling a tooth for Mandy, and the balance will show what we are in justice entitled to. Please send the money by Adams's Express, in care of V. Winters, Esq., Dayton, Ohio. If you fail to pay us for faithful labors in the past, we can have little faith in your promises in the future. We trust the good Maker has opened your eyes to the wrongs which you and your fathers have done to me and my fathers, in making us toil for you for generations without recompense. Here I draw my wages every Saturday night; but in Tennessee there was never any pay-day for the negroes any more than for the horses and cows. Surely there will be a day of reckoning for those who defraud the laborer of his hire.

In answering this letter, please state if there would be any safety for my Milly and Jane, who are now grown up, and both good-looking girls. You know how it was with poor Matilda and Catherine. I would rather stay here and starve--and die, if it come to that--than have my girls brought to shame by the violence and wickedness of their young masters. You will also please state if there has been any schools opened for the colored children in your neighborhood. The great desire of my life now is to give my children an education, and have them form virtuous habits.

Say howdy to George Carter, and thank him for taking the pistol from you when you were shooting at me.

From your old servant, JOURDON ANDERSON.

* * * * *

SERGEANT W. H. CARNEY, of New Bedford, Massachusetts, was very severely wounded when the famous Fifty-Fourth Regiment attacked Fort Wagner; but he resolutely held up the Stars and Stripes, as he dragged his wounded limb along, amid a shower of bullets; and when he reached his comrades he exclaimed exultingly, "The dear old flag has never touched the ground, boys!"

COLONEL ROBERT G. SHAW.

BY ELIZA B. SEDGWICK.

[In the summer of 1863 an attack was made on Fort Wagner, in South Carolina, by the 54th Massachusetts Regiment, composed of colored troops. Their leader, COLONEL SHAW, belonging to one of the best white families in Boston, was killed. When his friends asked for his body, the reply of the Rebels was, "He is buried with his niggers."]

Buried with a band of brothers, Whom for him would fain have died; Buried with the gallant fellows Who fell fighting by his side.

Buried with the men God gave him,-- Those whom he was sent to save; Buried with the martyred heroes, He has found an honored grave.

Buried where his dust so precious Makes the soil a hallowed spot; Buried where by Christian patriot He shall never be forgot.

Buried in the ground accursed, Which man's fettered feet have trod; Buried where his voice still speaketh, Appealing for the slave to God.

Fare thee well, thou noble warrior! Who in youthful beauty went On a high and holy mission, By the God of battles sent.

Chosen of Him, "elect and precious," Well didst thou fulfil thy part; When thy country "counts her jewels," She shall wear thee on her heart.

ADVICE FROM AN OLD FRIEND.

BY L. MARIA CHILD.

For many years I have felt great sympathy for you, my brethren and sisters, and I have tried to do what I could to help you to freedom. And now that you have at last received the long-desired blessing, I most earnestly wish that you should make the best possible use of it. I have made this book to encourage you to exertion by examples of what colored people are capable of doing. Such men and women as Toussaint l'Ouverture, Benjamin Banneker, Phillis Wheatley, Frederick Douglass, and William and Ellen Crafts, prove that the power of _character_ can overcome all external disadvantages, even that most crushing of all disadvantages, Slavery. Perhaps few of you will be able to stir the hearts of large assemblies by such eloquent appeals as those of Frederick Douglass, or be able to describe what you have seen and heard so gracefully as Charlotte L. Forten does. Probably none of you will be called to govern a state as Toussaint l'Ouverture did; for such a remarkable career as his does not happen once in hundreds of years. But the Bible says, "He that ruleth his own spirit is greater than he that ruleth a kingdom"; and such a ruler every man and woman can become, by the help and blessing of God. It is not the _greatness_ of the thing a man does which makes him worthy of respect; it is the doing _well_ whatsoever he hath to do. In many respects, your opportunities for usefulness are more limited than those of others; but you have one great opportunity peculiar to yourselves. You can do a vast amount of good to people in various parts of the world, and through successive generations, by simply being sober, industrious, and honest. There are still many slaves in Brazil and in the Spanish possessions. If you are vicious, lazy, and careless, their masters will excuse themselves for continuing to hold them in bondage, by saying: "Look at the freedmen of the United States! What idle vagabonds they are! How dirty their cabins are! How slovenly their dress! That proves that negroes cannot take care of themselves, that they are not fit to be free." But if your houses look neat, and your clothes are clean and whole, and your gardens well weeded, and your work faithfully done, whether for yourselves or others, then all the world will cry out, "You see that negroes _can_ take care of themselves; and it is a sin and a shame to keep such men in Slavery." Thus, while you are serving your own interests, you will be helping on the emancipation of poor weary slaves in other parts of the world. It is a great privilege to have a chance to do extensive good by such simple means, and your Heavenly Father will hold you responsible for the use you make of your influence.

Your manners will have a great effect in producing an impression to your advantage or disadvantage. Be always respectful and polite toward your associates, and toward those who have been in the habit of considering you an inferior race. It is one of the best ways to prove that you are not inferior. Never allow yourselves to say or do anything in the presence of women of your own color which it would be improper for you to say or do in the presence of the most refined white ladies. Such a course will be an education for them as well as for yourselves. When you appoint committees about your schools and other public affairs, it would be wise to have both men and women on the committees. The habit of thinking and talking about serious and important matters makes women more sensible and discreet. Such consultations together are in fact a practical school both for you and them; and the more modest and intelligent women are, the better will children be brought up.

Personal appearance is another important thing. It is not necessary to be rich in order to dress in a becoming manner. A pretty dress for festival occasions will last a long while, if well taken care of; and a few wild-flowers, or bright berries, will ornament young girls more tastefully than jewels. Working-clothes that are clean and nicely patched always look respectable; and they make a very favorable impression, because they indicate that the wearer is neat and economical. And here let me say, that it is a very great saving to mend garments well, and before the rents get large. We thrifty Yankees have a saying that "a stitch in time saves nine"; and you will find by experience that neglected mending will require more than nine stitches instead of one, and will not look so well when it is done.

The appearance of your villages will do much to produce a favorable opinion concerning your characters and capabilities. Whitewash is not expensive; and it takes but little time to transplant a cherokee rose, a jessamine, or other wild shrubs and vines, that make the poorest cabin look beautiful; and, once planted, they will be growing while you are working or sleeping. It is a public benefit to remove everything dirty or unsightly, and to surround homes with verdure and flowers; for a succession of pretty cottages makes the whole road pleasant, and cheers all passers by; while they are at the same time an advertisement, easily read by all men, that the people who live there are not lazy, slovenly, or vulgar. The rich pay a great deal of money for pictures to ornament their walls, but a whitewashed cabin, with flowering-shrubs and vines clustering round it, is a pretty picture freely exhibited to all men. It is a public benefaction.

But even if you are as yet too poor to have a house and garden of your own, it is still in your power to be a credit and an example to your race: by working for others as faithfully as you would work for yourself; by taking as good care of their tools as you would if they were your own; by always keeping your promises, however inconvenient it may be; by being strictly honest in all your dealings; by being temperate in your habits, and never speaking a profane or indecent word,--by pursuing such a course you will be consoled with an inward consciousness of doing right in the sight of God, and be a public benefactor by your example, while at the same time you will secure respect and prosperity for yourself by establishing a good character. A man whose conduct inspires confidence is in a fair way to have house and land of his own, even if he starts in the world without a single cent.

Be careful of your earnings, and as saving in your expenses as is consistent with health and comfort; but never allow yourselves to be stingy. Avarice is a mean vice, which eats all the heart out of a man. Money is a good thing, and you ought to want to earn it, as a means of improving the condition of yourselves and families. But it will do good to your character, and increase your happiness, if you impart a portion of your earnings to others who are in need. Help as much as you conveniently can in building churches and school-houses for the good of all, and in providing for the sick and the aged. If your former masters and mistresses are in trouble, show them every kindness in your power, whether they have treated you kindly or not. Remember the words of the blessed Jesus: "Do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you and persecute you."

There is one subject on which I wish to guard you against disappointment. Do not be discouraged if freedom brings you more cares and fewer advantages than you expected. Such a great change as it is from Slavery to Freedom cannot be completed all at once. By being brought up as slaves, you have formed some bad habits, which it will take time to correct. Those who were formerly your masters have acquired still worse habits by being brought up as slaveholders; and they cannot be expected to change all at once. Both of you will gradually improve under the teaching of new circumstances. For a good while it will provoke many of them to see those who were once their slaves acting like freemen. They will doubtless do many things to vex and discourage you, just as the slaveholders in Jamaica did after emancipation there. They seemed to want to drive their emancipated bondmen to insurrection, that they might have a pretext for saying: "You see what a bad effect freedom has on negroes! We told you it would be so!" But the colored people of Jamaica behaved better than their former masters wished them to do. They left the plantations where they were badly treated, or poorly paid, but they worked diligently elsewhere. Their women and children raised vegetables and fowls and carried them to market; and, by their united industry and economy, they soon had comfortable little homes of their own.

I think it would generally be well for you to work for your former masters, if they treat you well, and pay you as much as you could earn elsewhere. But if they show a disposition to oppress you, quit their service, and work for somebody who will treat you like freemen. If they use violent language to you, never use impudent language to them. If they cheat you, scorn to cheat them in return. If they break their promises, never break yours. If they propose to women such connections as used to be common under the bad system of Slavery, teach them that freedwomen not only have the legal power to protect themselves from such degradation, but also that they have pride of character. If in fits of passion, they abuse your children as they formerly did, never revenge it by any injury to them or their property. It is an immense advantage to any man always to keep the right on his side. If you pursue this course you will always be superior, however rich or elegant may be the man or woman who wrongs you.

I do not mean by this that you ought to submit tamely to insult or oppression. Stand up for your rights, but do it in a manly way. Quit working for a man who speaks to you contemptuously, or who tries to take a mean advantage of you, when you are doing your duty faithfully by him. If it becomes necessary, apply to magistrates to protect you and redress your wrongs. If you are so unlucky as to live where the men in authority, whether civil or military, are still disposed to treat the colored people as slaves, let the most intelligent among you draw up a statement of your grievances and send it to some of your firm friends in Congress, such as the Hon. Charles Sumner, the Hon. Henry Wilson, and the Hon. George W. Julian.

A good government seeks to make laws that will equally protect and restrain all men. Heretofore you had no reason to respect the laws of this country, because they punished you for crime, in many cases more severely than white men were punished, while they did nothing to protect your rights. But now that good President Lincoln has made you free, you will be legally protected in your rights and restrained from doing wrong, just as other men are protected and restrained. It is one of the noblest privileges of freemen to be able to respect the law, and to rely upon it always for redress of grievances, instead of revenging one wrong by another wrong.

You will have much to put up with before the new order of things can become settled on a permanent foundation. I am grieved to read in the newspapers how wickedly you are still treated in some places; but I am not surprised, for I knew that Slavery was a powerful snake, that would try to do mischief with its tail after its head was crushed. But, whatever wrongs you may endure, comfort yourselves with two reflections: first, that there is the beginning of a better state of things, from which your children will derive much more benefit than you can; secondly, that a great majority of the American people are sincerely determined that you shall be protected in your rights as freemen. Year by year your condition will improve. Year by year, if you respect yourselves, you will be more and more respected by white men. Wonderful changes have taken place in your favor during the last thirty years, and the changes are still going on. The Abolitionists did a great deal for you, by their continual writing and preaching against Slavery. Then this war enabled thousands of people to see for themselves what a bad institution Slavery was; and the uniform kindness with which you treated the Yankee soldiers raised you up multitudes of friends. There are still many pro-slavery people in the Northern States, who, from aristocratic pride or low vulgarity, still call colored people "niggers," and treat them as such. But the good leaven is now fairly worked into public sentiment, and these people, let them do what they will, cannot get it out.

The providence of God has opened for you an upward path. Walk ye in it, without being discouraged by the brambles and stones at the outset. Those who come after you will clear them away, and will place in their stead strong, smooth rails for the steam-car called Progress of the Colored Race.

DAY OF JUBILEE.

BY A. G. DUNCAN.

Roll on, thou joyful day, When tyranny's proud sway, Stern as the grave, Shall to the ground be hurled, And Freedom's flag unfurled Shall wave throughout the world, O'er every slave!

Trump of glad jubilee, Echo o'er land and sea, Freedom for all! Let the glad tidings fly, And every tribe reply, Glory to God on high, At Slavery's fall!

THE END.

Cambridge: Stereotyped and Printed by Welch, Bigelow, & Co.

* * * * *

Transcriber's Notes:

Obvious punctuation and spelling errors have been repaired. Spelling and accented letters, as well as inconsistent chapter headings in the Contents and the body of the text, have otherwise been retained as they appear in the original publication.

End of Project Gutenberg's The Freedmen's Book, by Lydia Maria Child