Chapter III: Preface (2)

This fearless woman was often sent into the rebel lines as a spy, and brought back valuable information as to the position of armies and batteries; she has been in battle when the shot was falling like hail, and the bodies of dead and wounded men were dropping around her like leaves in autumn; but the thought of fear never seems to have had place for a moment in her mind. She had her duty to perform, and she expected to be taken care of till it was done.

Would that instead of taking them in this poor way at second-hand, my readers could hear this woman's graphic accounts of scenes she herself witnessed, could listen to her imitations of negro preachers in their own very peculiar dialect, her singing of camp-meeting hymns, her account of "experience meetings," her imitations of the dances, and the funeral ceremonies of these simple people. "Why, der language down dar in de far South is jus' as different from ours in Maryland, as you can think," said she. "Dey laughed when dey heard me talk, an' I could not understand dem, no how." She described a midnight funeral which she attended; for the slaves, never having been allowed to bury their dead in the day time, continued the custom of night funerals from habit.

The corpse was laid upon the ground, and the people all sat round, the group being lighted up by pine torches.

The old negro preacher began by giving out a hymn, which was sung by all. "An' oh! I wish you could hear 'em sing, Missus," said Harriet. "Der voices is so sweet, and dey can sing eberyting we sing, an' den dey can sing a great many hymns dat we can't nebber catch at all."

The old preacher began his sermon by pointing to the dead man, who lay in a rude box on the ground before him.

"_Shum?_ Ded-a-de-dah! _Shum, David?_ Ded-a-de-dah! Now I want you all to _flec'_ for moment. Who ob all dis congregation is gwine next to lie ded-a-de-dah? You can't go nowheres, my frien's and bredren, but Deff'll fin' you. You can't dig no hole so deep an' bury yourself dar, but God A'mighty's far-seein' eye'll fine you, an' Deff'll come arter you. You can't go into that big fort (pointing to Hilton Head), an' shut yourself up dar; dat fort dat Sesh Buckner said de debil couldn't take, but Deff'll fin' you dar. All your frien's may forget you, but Deff'll nebber forget you. Now, my bredren, prepare to lie ded-a-de-dah!"

This was the burden of a very long sermon, after which the whole congregation went round in a sort of solemn dance, called the "spiritual shuffle," shaking hands with each other, and calling each other by name as they sang:

My sis'r Mary's boun' to go;
My sis'r Nanny's boun' to go;
My brudder Tony's boun' to go;
My brudder July's boun' to go.

This to the same tune, till every hand had been shaken by every one of the company. When they came to Harriet, who was a stranger, they sang:

Eberybody's boun' to go!

The body was then placed in a Government wagon, and by the light of the pine torches, the strange, dark procession moved along, singing a rude funeral hymn, till they reached the place of burial.

Harriet's account of her interview with an old negro she met at Hilton Head, is amusing and interesting. He said, "I'd been yere seventy-three years, workin' for my master widout even a dime wages. I'd worked rain-wet sun dry. I'd worked wid my mouf full of dust, but would not stop to get a drink of water. I'd been whipped, an' starved, an' I was always prayin', 'Oh! Lord, come an' delibber us!' All dat time de birds had been flyin', an' de rabens had been cryin', and de fish had been sunnin' in de waters. One day I look up, an' I see a big cloud; it didn't come up like as de clouds come out far yonder, but it 'peared to be right ober head. Der was tunders out of dat, an' der was lightnin's. Den I looked down on de water, an' I see, 'peared to me a big house in de water, an' out of de big house came great big eggs, and de good eggs went on trou' de air, an' fell into de fort; an' de bad eggs burst before dey got dar. Den de Sesh Buckra begin to run, an de neber stop running till de git to de swamp, an' de stick dar an' de die dar. Den I heard 'twas the Yankee ship[1] firin' out de big eggs, an dey had come to set us free. Den I praise de Lord. He come an' put he little finger in de work, an' dey Sesh Buckra all go; and de birds stop flyin', and de rabens stop cryin', an' when I go to catch a fish to eat wid my rice, de's no fish dar. De Lord A'mighty'd come and frightened 'em all out of de waters. Oh! Praise de Lord! I'd prayed seventy-three years, an' now he's come an' we's all free."

The last time Harriet was returning from the war, with her pass as hospital nurse, she bought a half-fare ticket, as she was told she must do; and missing the other train, she got into an emigrant train on the Amboy Railroad. When the conductor looked at her ticket, he said, "Come, hustle out of here! We don't carry niggers for half-fare." Harriet explained to him that she was in the employ of Government, and was entitled to transportation as the soldiers were. But the conductor took her forcibly by the arm, and said, "I'll make you tired of trying to stay here." She resisted, and being very strong, she could probably have got the better of the conductor, had he not called three men to his assistance. The car was filled with emigrants, and no one seemed to take her part. The only words she heard, accompanied with fearful oaths, were, "Pitch the nagur out!" They nearly wrenched her arm off, and at length threw her, with all their strength, into a baggage-car. She supposed her arm was broken, and in intense suffering she came on to New York. As she left the car, a delicate-looking young man came up to her, and, handing her a card, said, "You ought to sue that conductor, and if you want a witness, call on me." Harriet remained all winter under the care of a physician in New York; he advised her to sue the Railroad company, and said that he would willingly testify as to her injuries. But the card the young man had given her was only a visiting card, and she did not know where to find him, and so she let the matter go.

The writer here finds it necessary to apologize for the very desultory and hasty manner in which this little book is written. Being herself pressed for time, in the expectation of soon leaving the country, she is obliged to pen down the material to be used in the short and interrupted interviews she can obtain with Harriet, and also to use such letters and accounts as may be sent her, as they come, without being able to work them in, in the order of time. A very material assistance is to be rendered her by the kind offer of an account of Harriet's services during the war, written by Mr. Charles P. Wood, of Auburn, and kindly copied by one of Harriet's most faithful and most efficient friends, Mrs. S. M. Hopkins, of that place.

It was a wise plan of our sagacious heroine to leave her old parents till the last to be brought away. They were pensioned off as too old to work, had a cabin, and a horse and cow, and were quite comfortable. If Harriet had taken them away before the young people, these last would have been sold into Southern slavery, to keep them out of her way. But at length Harriet heard that the old man had been betrayed by a slave whom he had assisted, but who had turned back, and when questioned by his wife, told her the story of his intended escape, and of the aid he had received from "Old Ben." This woman, hoping to curry favor with her master, revealed the whole to him, and "Old Ben" was arrested. He was to be tried the next week, when Harriet appeared upon the scene, and, as she says, "saved dem de expense ob de trial," and removed her father to a higher court, by taking him off to Canada. The manner of their escape is detailed in the following letter from Thomas Garrett, the Wilmington Quaker:

WILMINGTON, 6th Mo., 1868.

MY FRIEND: Thy favor of the 12th reached me yesterday, requesting
such reminiscences as I could give respecting the remarkable labors
of Harriet Tubman, in aiding her colored friends from bondage. I
may begin by saying, living as I have in a slave State, and the
laws being very severe where any proof could be made of any one
aiding slaves on their way to freedom, I have not felt at liberty
to keep any written word of Harriet's or my own labors, except in
numbering those whom I have aided. For that reason I cannot furnish
so interesting an account of Harriet's labors as I otherwise could,
and now would be glad to do; for in truth I never met with any
person, of any color, who had more confidence in the voice of God,
as spoken direct to her soul. She has frequently told me that she
talked with God, and he talked with her every day of her life, and
she has declared to me that she felt no more fear of being arrested
by her former master, or any other person, when in his immediate
neighborhood, than she did in the State of New York, or Canada, for
she said she never ventured only where God sent her, and her faith
in a Supreme Power truly was great.

I have now been confined to my room with indisposition more than
four weeks, and cannot sit to write much; but I feel so much
interested in Harriet that I will try to give some of the most
remarkable incidents that now present themselves to my mind. The
date of the commencement of her labors, I cannot certainly give;
but I think it must have been about 1845; from that time till 1860,
I think she must have brought from the neighborhood where she had
been held as a slave, from 60 to 80 persons, from Maryland, some 80
miles from here. No slave who placed himself under her care, was
ever arrested that I have heard of; she mostly had her regular
stopping places on her route; but in one instance, when she had two
stout men with her, some 30 miles below here, she said that God
told her to stop, which she did; and then asked him what she must
do. He told her to leave the road, and turn to the left; she
obeyed, and soon came to a small stream of tide water; there was no
boat, no bridge; she again inquired of her Guide what she was to
do. She was told to go through. It was cold, in the month of March;
but having confidence in her Guide, she went in; the water came up
to her arm-pits; the men refused to follow till they saw her safe
on the opposite shore. They then followed, and if I mistake not,
she had soon to wade a second stream; soon after which she came to
a cabin of colored people, who took them all in, put them to bed,
and dried their clothes, ready to proceed next night on their
journey. Harriet had run out of money, and gave them some of her
under-clothing to pay for their kindness. When she called on me two
days after, she was so hoarse she could hardly speak, and was also
suffering with violent toothache. The strange part of the story we
found to be, that the master of these two men had put up the
previous day, at the railroad station near where she left, an
advertisement for them, offering a large reward for their
apprehension; but they made a safe exit. She at one time brought as
many as seven or eight, several of whom were women and children.
She was well known here in Chester County and Philadelphia, and
respected by all true abolitionists. I had been in the habit of
furnishing her and those that accompanied her, as she returned from
her acts of mercy, with new shoes; and on one occasion when I had
not seen her for three months, she came into my store. I said,
"Harriet, I am glad to see thee! I suppose thee wants a pair of new
shoes." Her reply was "I want more than that." I, in jest, said, "I
have always been liberal with thee, and wish to be; but I am not
rich, and cannot afford to give much." Her reply was: "God tells me
you have money for me." I asked her "if God never deceived her?"
She said, "No!" "Well! how much does thee want?" After studying a
moment, she said: "About twenty-three dollars." I then gave her
twenty-four dollars and some odd cents, the net proceeds of five
pounds sterling, received through Eliza Wigham, of Scotland, for
her. I had given some accounts of Harriet's labor to the
Anti-Slavery Society of Edinburgh, of which Eliza Wigham was
Secretary. On the reading of my letter, a gentleman present said he
would send Harriet four pounds if he knew of any way to get it to
her. Eliza Wigham offered to forward it to me for her, and that was
the first money ever received by me for her. Some twelve months
after, she called on me again, and said that God told her I had
some money for her, but not so much as before. I had, a few days
previous, received the net proceeds of one pound ten shillings from
Europe for her. To say the least, there was something remarkable in
these facts, whether clairvoyance, or the divine impression on her
mind from the source of all power, I cannot tell; but certain it
was she had a guide within herself other than the written word, for
she never had any education. She brought away her aged parents in a
singular manner. They started with an old horse, fitted out in
primitive style with a _straw collar_, a pair of old chaise wheels,
with a board on the axle to sit on, another board swung with ropes,
fastened to the axle, to rest their feet on. She got her parents,
who were both slaves belonging to different masters, on this rude
vehicle to the railroad, put them in the cars, turned Jehu herself,
and drove to town in a style that no human being ever did before or
since; but she was happy at having arrived safe. Next day, I
furnished her with money to take them all to Canada. I afterwards
sold their horse, and sent them the balance of the proceeds. I
believe that Harriet succeeded in freeing all her relatives but one
sister and her three children. Etc., etc.

Thy friend,

THOS. GARRETT.

Friend Garrett probably refers here to those who passed through his hands. Harriet was obliged to come by many different routes on her different journeys, and though she never counted those whom she brought away with her, it would seem, by the computation of others, that there must have been somewhere near three hundred brought by her to the Northern States and Canada.

Extracts from a letter written by Mr. Sanborn, Secretary of the
Massachusetts Board of State Charities.

MY DEAR MADAME: Mr. Phillips has sent me your note, asking for
reminiscences of Harriet Tubman, and testimonials to her
extraordinary story, which all her New England friends will, I am
sure, be glad to furnish.

I never had reason to doubt the truth of what Harriet said in
regard to her own career, for I found her singularly truthful. Her
imagination is warm and rich, and there is a whole region of the
marvelous in her nature, which has manifested itself at times
remarkably. Her dreams and visions, misgivings and forewarnings,
ought not to be omitted in any life of her, particularly those
relating to John Brown.

She was in his confidence in 1858-9, and he had a great regard for
her, which he often expressed to me. She aided him in his plans,
and expected to do so still further, when his career was closed by
that wonderful campaign in Virginia. The first time she came to my
house, in Concord, after that tragedy, she was shown into a room in
the evening, where Brackett's bust of John Brown was standing. The
sight of it, which was new to her, threw her into a sort of ecstacy
of sorrow and admiration, and she went on in her rhapsodical way to
pronounce his apotheosis.

She has often been in Concord, where she resided at the houses of
Emerson, Alcott, the Whitneys, the Brooks family, Mrs. Horace
Mann, and other well known persons. They all admired and respected
her, and nobody doubted the reality of her adventures. She was too
_real_ a person to be suspected. In 1862, I think it was, she went
from Boston to Port Royal, under the advice and encouragement of
Mr. Garrison, Governor Andrew, Dr. Howe, and other leading people.
Her career in South Carolina is well known to some of our officers,
and I think to Colonel Higginson, now of Newport, R. I., and
Colonel James Montgomery, of Kansas, to both of whom she was useful
as a spy and guide, if I mistake not. I regard her as, on the
whole, the most extraordinary person of her race I have ever met.
She is a negro of pure or almost pure blood, can neither read nor
write, and has the characteristics of her race and condition. But
she has done what can scarcely be credited on the best authority,
and she has accomplished her purposes with a coolness, foresight,
patience, and wisdom, which in a _white man_ would have raised him
to the highest pitch of reputation.

I am, dear Madame, very truly your servant,

F. B. SANBORN.

Of the "dreams and visions" mentioned in this letter, the writer might have given many wonderful instances; but it was thought best not to insert anything which, with any, might bring discredit upon the story. When these turns of somnolency come upon Harriet, she imagines that her "spirit" leaves her body, and visits other scenes and places, not only in this world, but in the world of spirits. And her ideas of these scenes show, to say the least of it, a vividness of imagination seldom equaled in the soarings of the most cultivated minds.

Not long since, the writer, on going into Harriet's room in the morning, sat down by her and began to read that wonderful and glorious description of the heavenly Jerusalem in the two last chapters of Revelations. When the reading was finished, Harriet burst into a rhapsody which perfectly amazed her hearer--telling of what she had seen in one of these visions, sights which no one could doubt had been real to her, and which no human imagination could have conceived, it would seem, unless in dream or vision. There was a wild poetry in these descriptions which seemed to border almost on inspiration, but by many they might be characterized as the ravings of insanity. All that can be said is, however, if this woman is insane, there has been a wonderful "method in her madness."

At one time, Harriet was much troubled in spirit about her three brothers, feeling sure that some great evil was impending over their heads. She wrote a letter, by the hand of a friend, to a man named Jacob Jackson, who lived near there. Jacob was a free negro, who could both read and write, and who was under suspicion at that time, as it was thought he had something to do with the disappearance of so many slaves. It was necessary, therefore, to be very cautious in writing to him. Jacob had an adopted son, William Henry Jackson, also free, who had come South; and so Harriet determined to sign her letter with his name, knowing that Jacob would be clever enough to understand, by her peculiar phraseology, what meaning she intended to convey to him. She, therefore, after speaking of indifferent matters, said, "Read my letter to the old folks, and give my love to them, and tell my brothers to be always _watching unto prayer_, and when the _good old ship of Zion comes along, to be ready to step aboard_."

The letter was signed "William Henry Jackson." Jacob was not allowed to have his letters till the self-elected inspectors had had the reading of them, and studied into their secret meaning. They, therefore, got together, wiped their glasses, and got them on, and proceeded to a careful perusal of this mysterious document. What it meant, they could not imagine; William Henry Jackson had no parents or brothers, and the letter was incomprehensible. White genius having exhausted itself, black genius was called in, and Jacob's letter was at last handed to him. Jacob saw at once what it meant, but tossed it down, saying, "Dat letter can't be meant for me, no how. I can't make head nor tail of it," and walked off and took immediate measures to let Harriet's brothers know secretly that she was coming, and they must be ready to start at a moment's notice for the North. When Harriet arrived there, it was the day before Christmas, and she found her three brothers, who had attempted to escape, were advertised to be sold on Christmas day to the highest bidder, to go down to the cotton and rice fields with the chain-gang. Christmas came on Sunday, and therefore they were not to be sold till Monday. Harriet arrived on Saturday, and gave them secret notice to be ready to start Saturday night, immediately after dark, the first stopping-place to be their father's cabin, forty miles away. When they assembled, their brother John was missing; but when Harriet was ready, the word was "Forward!" and she "nebber waited for no one." Poor John was almost ready to start, when his wife was taken ill, and in an hour or two, another little inheritor of the blessings of slavery had come into the world. John must go off for a "Granny," and then he would not leave his wife in her present circumstances. But after the birth of the child, he began to think he must start; the North and Liberty, or the South and life-long Slavery--these were the alternatives, and this was his last chance. He tried again and again to steal out of the door, but a watchful eye was on him, and he was always arrested by the question, "Where you gwine, John?" At length he told her he was going to try to see if he couldn't get hired out on Christmas to another man. His wife did not think that he was to be sold. He went out of the door, and stood by the corner of the house, near her bed, listening. At length, he heard her sobbing and crying, and not being able to endure it, he went back. "Oh! John," said his wife, "you's gwine to lebe me; but, wherebber you go, remember me an' de chillen." John went out and started at full speed for his father's cabin, forty miles away. At daybreak, he overtook the others in the "fodder house," near the cabin of their parents. Harriet had not seen her mother there for six years, but they did not dare to let the old woman know of their being in her neighborhood, or of their intentions, for she would have raised such an uproar in her efforts to detain them with her, that the whole plantation would have been alarmed. The poor old woman had been expecting the boys all day, to spend Christmas with her as usual. She had been hard at work, had killed a pig, and put it to all the various uses to which sinner's flesh is doomed, and had made all the preparations her circumstances admitted of, to give them a sumptuous entertainment, and there she sat watching. In the night, when Harriet and two of her brothers and two other men, who had escaped with them, arrived at the "fodder house," they were exhausted and famished. They sent the two strange men up to the house to try and speak to "Old Ben," their father, but not to let their mother know of their being in the neighborhood. The men succeeded in rousing old Ben, who came out, and as soon as he heard their story, he gathered together a quantity of provisions, and came down to the fodder house, and slipped them inside the door, taking care not to _see_ his children. Up among the ears of corn they lay, and one of them he had not seen for six years. It rained very hard all that Sunday, and there they lay all day, for they could not start till night. At about daybreak, John joined them. There were wide chinks in the boards of the fodder house, and through them they could see their father's cabin; and all day long, every few minutes, they would see the old woman come out, and, shading her eyes with her hand, take a long look down the road to see if her children were coming, and then they could almost hear her sigh as she turned into the house, disappointed.

Two or three times the old man came down, and pushed food inside the door, and after nightfall he came to accompany them part of the way upon their journey. When he reached the fodder house, he tied his handkerchief tight over his eyes, and two of his sons taking him by each arm, he accompanied them some miles upon their journey. They then bade him farewell, and left him standing blind-fold in the middle of the road. When he could no longer hear their footsteps, he took off the handkerchief, and turned back.

But before leaving, they had gone up to the cabin to take a silent farewell of the poor old mother. Through the little window of the cabin, they saw the old woman sitting by her fire with a pipe in her mouth, her head on her hand, rocking back and forth as she did when she was in trouble, and wondering what new evil had come to her children. With streaming eyes, they watched her for ten or fifteen minutes; but time was precious, and they must reach their next station before daybreak, and so they turned sadly away.

When the holidays were over, and the men came for the three brothers to sell them, they could not be found. The first place to search was of course the plantation where all their relatives and friends lived. They went to the "big house," and asked the "Doctor" if he had seen anything of them. The Doctor said, "No, they mostly came up there to see the other niggers when they came for Christmas," but they hadn't been round at all. "Have you been down to Old Ben's?" the Doctor asked. "Yes." "What does Old Rit say?" "Old Rit says not one of 'em came this Christmas. She was looking for 'em most all day, and most broke her heart about it." "What does Old Ben say?" "Old Ben says that he hasn't seen one of his children this Christmas." "Well, if Old Ben says that, they haven't been round." And so the man-hunters went off disappointed.

One of the other brothers, William Henry, had long been attached to a girl named Catherine, who lived with another master; but her master would not let her marry him. When William Henry made up his mind to start with Harriet, he determined to bring Catherine with him. And so he went to a tailor's, and bought a new suit of men's clothes, and threw them over the garden fence of Catherine's master. The garden ran down to a run, and Catherine had been notified where to find the clothes. When the time had come to get ready, Catherine went to the foot of the garden and dressed herself in the suit of men's clothes. She was soon missed, and all the girls in the house were set to looking for Catherine. Presently they saw coming up through the garden, as if from the river, a well-dressed little darkey, and they all stopped looking for Catherine to stare at him. He walked directly by them round the house, and went out of the gate, without the slightest suspicion being excited as to who he was. In a fortnight from that time, the whole party were safe in Canada.

William Henry died in Canada, but Catherine has been seen and talked with by the writer, at the house of the old people.

Of the many letters, testimonials, and passes, placed in the hands of the writer by Harriet, the following are selected for insertion in this book, and are quite sufficient to verify her statements.

_A Letter from Gen. Saxton to a Lady of Auburn._

ATLANTA, GA., March 21, 1868.

MY DEAR MADAME: I have just received your letter informing me that
Hon. Wm. H. Seward, Secretary of State, would present a petition to
Congress for a pension to Harriet Tubman, for services rendered in
the Union Army during the late war. I can bear witness to the value
of her services in South Carolina and Florida. She was employed in
the hospitals and as a spy. She made many a raid inside the enemy's
lines, displaying remarkable courage, zeal, and fidelity. She was
employed by General Hunter, and I think by Generals Stevens and
Sherman, and is as deserving of a pension from the Government for
her services as any other of its faithful servants.

I am very truly yours,

RUFUS SAXTON, Bvt. Brig.-Gen. U. S. A.

_Letter from Hon. Wm. H. Seward._

WASHINGTON, July 25, 1868.

MAJ.-GEN. HUNTER--

MY DEAR SIR: Harriet Tubman, a colored woman, has been nursing our
soldiers during nearly all the war. She believes she has a claim
for faithful services to the command in South Carolina with which
you are connected, and she thinks that you would be disposed to see
her claim justly settled.

I have known her long, and a nobler, higher spirit, or a truer,
seldom dwells in the human form. I commend her, therefore, to your
kind and best attentions.

Faithfully your friend,

WILLIAM H. SEWARD.

_Letter from Col. James Montgomery._

ST. HELENA ISLAND, S. C., July 6, 1863.

HEADQUARTERS COLORED BRIGADE.

BRIG.-GEN. GILMAN, Commanding Department of the South--

GENERAL: I wish to commend to your attention, Mrs. Harriet Tubman,
a most remarkable woman, and invaluable as a scout. I have been
acquainted with her character and actions for several years.

Walter D. Plowden is a man of tried courage, and can be made
highly useful.

I am, General, your most ob't servant,

JAMES MONTGOMERY, Col. Com. Brigade.

_Letter from Mrs. Gen. A. Baird._

PETERBORO, Nov. 24, 1864.

The bearer of this, Harriet Tubman, a most excellent woman, who has
rendered faithful and good services to our Union army, not only in
the hospital, but in various capacities, having been employed under
Government at Hilton Head, and in Florida; and I commend her to the
protection of all officers in whose department she may happen to
be.

She has been known and esteemed for years by the family of my
uncle, Hon. Gerrit Smith, as a person of great rectitude and
capabilities.

MRS. GEN. A. BAIRD.

_Letter from Hon. Gerrit Smith._

PETERBORO, N. Y., Nov. 4, 1867.

I have known Mrs. Harriet Tubman for many years. Seldom, if ever,
have I met with a person more philanthropic, more self-denying,
and of more bravery. Nor must I omit to say that she combines with
her sublime spirit, remarkable discernment and judgment.

During the late war, Mrs. Tubman was eminently faithful and useful
to the cause of our country. She is poor and has poor parents. Such
a servant of the country should be well paid by the country. I hope
that the Government will look into her case.

GERRIT SMITH.

_Testimonial from Gerrit Smith._

PETERBORO, Nov. 22, 1864.

The bearer, Harriet Tubman, needs not any recommendation. Nearly
all the nation over, she has been heard of for her wisdom,
integrity, patriotism, and bravery. The cause of freedom owes her
much. The country owes her much.

I have known Harriet for many years, and I hold her in my high
esteem.

GERRIT SMITH.

_Certificate from Henry K. Durrant, Acting Asst. Surgeon, U. S. A._

I certify that I have been acquainted with Harriet Tubman for
nearly two years; and my position as Medical Officer in charge of
"contrabands" in this town and in hospital, has given me frequent
and ample opportunities to observe her general deportment;
particularly her kindness and attention to the sick and suffering
of her own race. I take much pleasure in testifying to the esteem
in which she is generally held.

HENRY K. DURRANT,
Acting Assistant Surgeon, U. S. A.
In charge "Contraband" Hospital.

Dated at Beaufort, S. C., the 3d day of May, 1864.

I concur fully in the above.

R. SAXTON, Brig.-Gen. Vol.

The following are a few of the passes used by Harriet throughout the war. Many others are so defaced that it is impossible to decipher them.

HEADQUARTERS DEPARTMENT OF THE SOUTH, HILTON HEAD, PORT ROYAL,
S. C., Feb. 19, 1863.

Pass the bearer, Harriet Tubman, to Beaufort and back to this
place, and wherever she wishes to go; and give her free passage at
all times, on all Government transports. Harriet was sent to me
from Boston by Gov. Andrew of Mass., and is a valuable woman. She
has permission, as a servant of the Government, to purchase such
provisions from the Commissary as she may need.

D. HUNTER, Maj.-Gen. Com.

General Gillman, who succeeded General Hunter in command of the Department of the South, appends his signature to the same pass.

HEADQUARTERS OF THE DEPARTMENT OF THE SOUTH, July 1, 1863.

Continued in force.

I. A. GILLMAN, Brig.-Gen. Com.

BEAUFORT, Aug. 28, 1862.

Will Capt. Warfield please let "Moses" have a little Bourbon
whiskey for medicinal purposes.

HENRY K. DURRANT, Act. Ass. Surgeon.

WAR DEPARTMENT, WASHINGTON, D. C.,
March 20, 1865.

Pass Mrs. Harriet Tubman (colored) to Hilton Head and Charleston,
S. C., with free transportation on a Government transport.

By order of the Sec. of War.

LOUIS H., Asst. Adj.-Gen., U. S. A.

To Bvt. Brig.-Gen. Van Vliet, U. S. Q. M., N. Y.

Not transferable.

WAR DEPARTMENT, WASHINGTON, D. C.,
July 22, 1865.

Permit Harriet Tubman to proceed to Fortress Monroe, Va., on a
Government transport. Transportation will be furnished free of
cost.

By order of the Secretary of War.