Chapter XXXI: Part 31

One afternoon, the quiet of the Anti-Slavery Office was suddenly agitated by the contents of a letter, privately placed in the hands of J. Miller McKim by one of the clerks of the Philadelphia Ledger office. Said letter it would seem, had been dropped into the box of the Ledger office, instead of the U.S. box (one of which, was also in the Ledger office), through a mistake, and seeing that it bore the name of a well-known slave-catcher, Alberti, the clerk had a great desire to know its import. Whether it was or was not sealed, the writer cannot say, it certainly was not sealed when it reached the Anti-Slavery office. It stated that a lady from Maryland was then in Philadelphia, stopping at a boarding-house on Arch Street, and that she was very desirous of seeing the above-mentioned Alberti, with a view of obtaining his services to help catch an Underground Rail Road sojourner, whom she claimed as her property. That she wrote the letter could not be proved, but that it was sent by her consent, there was no doubt. In order to save the poor fellow from his impending doom, it seemed that nothing would avail but a bold strategical movement. Mr. McKim proposed to find some one who would be willing to answer for Alberti. Cyrus Whitson, a member of the Committee, in Mr. McKim's judgment, could manage the matter successfully. At that time, C. Whitson was engaged in the Free Labor store, at the corner of Fifth and Cherry streets, near the Anti-Slavery office. On being sent for, he immediately answered the summons, and Mr. McKim at once made known to him his plan, which was to save a fellow-man from being dragged back to bondage, by visiting the lady, and ascertaining from her in conversation the whereabouts of the fugitives, the names of the witnesses, and all the particulars. Nothing could have delighted the shrewd Whitson better; he saw just how he could effect the matter, without the slightest probable failure. So off he started for the boarding-house.

Arriving, he rang the bell, and when the servant appeared, he asked if Miss Wilson, from Maryland, was stopping there. "She is," was the answer. "I wish to see her." "Walk in the parlor, sir." In went Mr. W., with his big whiskers. Soon Miss Wilson entered the parlor, a tall, and rather fine-looking well dressed lady. Mr. Whitson bowing, politely addressed her, substantially thus:

"I have come to see you instead of Mr. Geo. F. Alberti, to whom you addressed a note, this morning. Circumstances, over which Mr. A. had no control, prevented his coming, so I have come, madam, to look after your business in his place. Now, madam, I wish it to be distinctly understood in the outset, that whatever transpires between us, so far as this business is concerned, must be kept strictly confidential, by no means, must this matter be allowed to leak out; if it does, the darned abolitionists (excuse me), may ruin me; at any rate we should not be able to succeed in getting your slave. I am particular on this point, remember."

"You are perfectly right, Sir, indeed I am very glad that your plan is to conduct this matter in this manner, for I do not want my name mixed up with it in any way."

"Very well, madam, I think we understand each other pretty well; now please give me the name of the fugitive, his age, size, and color, and where he may be found, how long he has been away, and the witness who can be relied on to identify him after he is arrested."

Miss Wilson carefully communicated these important particulars, while Mr. Whitson faithfully penciled down every word. At the close of the interview he gave her to understand that the matter should be attended to immediately, and that he thought there would be no difficulty in securing the fugitive. "You shall hear from me soon, madam, good afternoon."

In five minutes after this interview Whitson was back to the Anti-slavery Office with all Miss Wilson's secrets. The first thing to be attended was to send a messenger to the place where the fugitive was at work, with a view of securing his safety; this was a success. The man was found, and, frightened almost out of his wits, he dropped all and followed the messenger, who bore him the warning. In the meanwhile Mr. McKim was preparing, with great dispatch, the subjoined document for the enlightenment and warning of all.

TO WHOM IT MAY CONCEEN:

BEWARE OF SLAVE-CATCHERS.

Miss WILSON, of Georgetown Cross Roads, Kent county, Md., is now
in the city in pursuit of her alleged slave man, BUTLER. J.M.
Cummings and John Wilson, of the same place, are understood to
be here on a similar errand. This is to caution BUTLER and his
friends to be on their guard. Let them keep clear of the
above-named individuals. Also, let them have an eye on all
persons known to be friends of Dr. High, of Georgetown Cross
Roads, and Mr. D.B. Cummings, who is not of Georgetown Cross
Roads.

It is requested that all parties to whom a copy of this may be
sent will post it in a public place, and that the friends of
Freedom and Humanity will have the facts herein contained openly
read in their respective churches.

"Hide the outcast; bewray not him that wandereth." Isaiah xvi.
3.

"Thou shalt not deliver unto his master the servant that has
escaped from his master unto thee." Deut. xxiii. 15.

This document printed as a large poster, about three feet square, and displayed in large numbers over the city, attracted much attention and comment, which facts were quickly conveyed to Miss Wilson, at her boarding-house. At first, as it was understood, she was greatly shocked to find herself in everybody's mouth. She unhesitatingly took her baggage and started for "My Maryland." Thus ended one of the most pleasant interviews that ever took place between a slave-hunter and the Vigilance Committee of Philadelphia.

* * * * *

ARRIVAL FROM RICHMOND, 1858.

HENRY LANGHORN _alias_ WM. SCOTT.

This "chattel" from Richmond, Virginia, was of a yellow complexion, with some knowledge of the arts of reading and writing; he was about twenty-three years of age and considered himself in great danger of being subjected to the auction-block by one Charles L. Hobson. Hobson and Henry had grown up from boyhood together; for years they had even occupied the same room,--Henry as a servant-boy and protector of his prospective young master. Under these relations quite strong affinities were cemented between them, and Henry succeeded in gaining a knowledge of the alphabet with an occasional lesson in spelling. Both reached their majority. William was hired out at the American Hotel, and being a "smart, likely-looking boy," commanded good wages for his young master's benefit, who had commenced business as a tobacco merchant, with about seven head of slaves in his possession. A year or two's experiment proved that the young master was not succeeding as a merchant, and before the expiration of three years he had sold all his slaves except Henry. From such indications, Henry was fully persuaded that his time was well nigh at hand, and great was his anxiety as he meditated over the auction-block. "In his heart" he resolved time and again that he would never be sold. It behooved him, therefore, to avert that ill fate. He at first resolved to buy himself, but in counting the cost he found that he would by no means be able to accumulate as much money as his master would be likely to demand for him; he, therefore, abandoned this idea and turned his attention straightway to the Underground Rail Road, by which route he had often heard of slaves escaping. He felt the need of money and that he must make and save an extra quarter whenever he could; he soon learned to be a very rigid economist, and being exceedingly accommodating in waiting upon gentlemen at the hotel and at the springs, he found his little "pile" increasing weekly. His object was to have enough to pay for a private berth on one of the Richmond steamers and also to have a little left to fall back on after landing in a strange land and among strangers. He saved about two hundred dollars in cash; he was then ready to make a forward move, and he arranged all his plans with an agent in Richmond to leave by one of the steamers during the Christmas holidays. "You must come down to the steamer about dark," said the agent "and if all is right you will see the Underground Rail Road agent come out with some ashes as a signal, and by this you may know that all is ready."

"I will be there certain," said Henry. Christmas week he was confident would be granted as usual as a holiday week; a few days before Christmas he went to his master and asked permission to spend said holiday with his mother, in Cumberland county, adding that he would need some spending money, enough at least to pay his fare, etc. Young master freely granted his request, wrote him a pass, and doled him out enough money to pay his fare thence, but concluded that Henry could pay his way back out of his extra change. Henry expressed his obligations, etc., and returned to the American Hotel. The evening before the time appointed for starting on his Underground Rail Road voyage, he had occasion to go out to see the Underground Rail Road agent, and asked the clerk to give him a pass. This favor was peremptorily refused. Henry, "not willing to give it up so," sat down to write a pass for himself; he found it all that was necessary, and was thus enabled to accomplish his business satisfactorily. Next day his Christmas holiday commenced, but instead of his enjoying the sight of his mother, he felt that he had seen her for the last time in the flesh. It was a sad reflection. That evening at dark, he was at the wharf, according to promise. The man with the ashes immediately appeared and signalled him. In his three suits of clothing (all on his back), he walked on the boat, and was conducted to the coal covering, where Egyptian darkness prevailed. The appointed hour for the starting of the steamer, was ten o'clock the following morning. By the aid of prayer, he endured the suffering that night. No sooner had the steamer got under way, than a heavy gale was encountered; for between three and four days the gale and fog combined, threatened the steamer with a total loss. All the freight on deck, consisting of tobacco and cotton, had to be thrown overboard, to save the passengers.

Henry, in his state of darkness, saw nothing, nor could he know the imminent peril that his life was in. Fortunately he was not sea-sick, but slept well and long on the voyage. The steamer was five days coming. On landing at Philadelphia, Henry could scarcely see or walk; the spirit of freedom, however, was burning brightly in the hidden man, and the free gales of fresh air and a few hours on free soil soon enabled him to overcome the difficulties which first presented themselves, and he was soon one of the most joyful mortals living. He tarried two days with his friends in Philadelphia, and then hastened on to Boston. After being in Boston two months, he was passing through the market one day, when, to his surprise, he espied his young master, Charles L. Hobson. Henry was sure, however, that he was not recognized, but suspected that he was hunted. Instantly, Henry pulled up his coat collar, and drew his hat over his face to disguise himself as much as possible; but he could not wholly recover from the shock he had thus sustained. He turned aside from the market and soon met a friend formerly from Richmond, who had been in servitude in the tobacco factory owned by his master. Henry tried to prevail on him to spot out said Hobson, in the market, and see if there possibly could be any mistake. Not a step would his friend take in that direction. He had been away for several years, still he was a fugitive, and didn't like the idea of renewing his acquaintance with old or new friends with a white skin from Virginia. Henry, however, could not content himself until he had taken another good look at Mr. Hobson. Disguising himself he again took a stroll through the market, looking on the right and left as he passed along; presently he saw him seated at a butcher's stall. He examined him to his satisfaction, and then went speedily to headquarters (the Anti-Slavery Office), made known the fact of his discovery, and stated that he believed his master had no other errand to Boston than to capture him. Measures were at once taken to ascertain if such a man as Charles L. Hobson was booked at any of the hotels in Boston.

On finding that this was really a fact, Henry was offered and accepted private quarters with the well-known philanthropist and friend of the fugitive, Francis Jackson. His house as well as his purse was always open to the slave. While under the roof of Mr. Jackson, as Hobson advertised and described Henry so accurately, and offered a reward of two hundred and fifty dollars for him, Henry's friends thought that they would return him the compliment by publishing him in the Boston papers quite as accurately if not with as high a reward for him; they advertised him after this manner: "Charles L. Hobson, twenty-two years of age, six feet high, with a slouched hat on, mixed coat, black pants, with a goatee, is stopping at the Tremont Hotel," &c., &c. This was as a bomb-shell to Mr. Hobson, and he immediately took the hint, and with his trunks steered for the sunny South. In a day or two afterwards Henry deemed it advisable to visit Canada. After arriving there he wrote back to his young master, to let him know where he was, and why he left, and what he was doing. How his letter was received Henry was never informed. For five years he lived in Boston and ran on a boat trading to Canada East. He saved up his money and took care of himself creditably. He was soon prepared to go into some business that would pay him better than running on the boat. Two of his young friends agreed with him that they could do better in Philadelphia than in Boston, so they came to the City of Brotherly Love and opened a first-class dining-saloon near Third and Chestnut streets. For a time they carried on the business with enterprise and commendable credit, but one of the partners, disgusted with the prejudices of the city passenger railway cars, felt that he could no longer live here. Henry, known after leaving Slavery only by the name of Wm. Scott, quitted the restaurant business and found employment as a messenger under Thomas A. Scott, Esq., Vice-President of the Pennsylvania Central Rail Road, where he has faithfully served for the last four years, and has the prospect of filling the office for many years to come. He is an industrious, sober, steady, upright, and intelligent young man, and takes care of his wife and child in a comfortable three story brick house of his own.

* * * * *

ARRIVAL FROM RICHMOND, 1859.

Miles Robinson was the slave of Mrs. Roberts, a widow lady living in York County, Virginia. He did not live with her, however, but was hired out in the city of Richmond. He had been fortunate in falling into hands that had not treated him harshly. He was not contented, however. Much of the leisure falling incidentally to his lot from hours of duty, he devoted to the banjo. As a player on this instrument he had become quite gifted, but music in Richmond was not liberty. The latter he craved, and in thought was often far beyond Mason and Dixon's line, enjoying that which was denied him in Virginia. Although but twenty-two years of age, Miles was manly, and determination and intelligence were traits strongly marked in his unusually well-shaped visage. Hearing that he was to be sold, he conferred not with his mother, brothers, or sisters, (for such he had living as slaves in Richmond) but resolved to escape by the first convenience. Turning his attention to the Underground Rail Road, he soon found an agent who communicated his wishes to one of the colored women running as cook or chambermaid on one of the Philadelphia and Richmond steamers, and she was bold enough to take charge of him, and found him a safe berth in one of the closets where the pots and other cooking utensils belonged. It was rather rough and trying, but Miles felt that it was for liberty, and he must pass through the ordeal without murmuring, which he did, until success was achieved and he found himself in Philadelphia. Boston being the haven on which his hopes were fixed, after recruiting a short while in the city he steered for said place. Finding liberty there as sweet as he had fondly hoped to find it, he applied himself unceasingly to industrial pursuits, economy, the improvement of his mind and the elevation of his race. Four years he passed thus, under the shadow of Bunker Hill, at the end of which time he invested the earnings, which he had saved, in a business with two young friends in Philadelphia. All being first-class waiters and understanding catering, they decided to open a large dining-saloon. Miles was one of the two friends mentioned in Wm. Scott's narrative, and as his success and consequent fortunes have been already referred to, it will suffice here to mention him simply in connection with two contests that he sustained with the prejudice that sought to drive colored people from the passenger cars.

At the corner of Fourth and Walnut streets Miles, in company with two other young men, Wallace and Marshall, one evening in a most orderly manner, entered the cars and took their seats. The conductor ordered them on the front platform; they did not budge. He stopped the car and ordered them out; this did no good. He read rules, and was not a little embarrassed by these polite and well-dressed young men. Finally he called for the police, who arrested all three. Miles did not yield his seat without a struggle. In being pulled out his resistance was such that several window lights were broken in the car. The police being in strong force, however, succeeded in marching their prisoners to the Mayor's police station at the corner of Fifth and Chestnut streets where they were locked up to await further investigation. The prisoners thought they were back in "old Virginny" again. Miles gritted his teeth and felt very indignant, but what could he do? The infamous prejudice against which they had borne testimony was controlling all the lines of city passenger railways in Philadelphia. While Miles and his friends were willing to suffer for a principle, the dirt, filth, cold, and disagreeableness of the quarters that they most likely would be compelled to occupy all night and the following day (Sunday) forbade submission. Added to this Miles felt that his young wife would hardly be able to contain herself while he was locked up. They sent for the writer to intercede for them.

At a late hour of the night, after going from the alderman's boardinghouse to a fire engine house and other places, where it was supposed that he might probably be found, on going a third time to his hotel, a little before midnight, he was discovered to be in bed, and it was then ascertained that he had not been out all the evening. The night was very stormy. We could not tell whether or not the fruitless chase on which we had been sent in search of the alderman, was in keeping with the spirit that had locked the men up, designed to mislead us; he condescended at last to appear, and accepted our offer to go bail for all of them, and finally issued a discharge. This was hastily delivered at the station, and the prisoners were released.

But Miles was not satisfied; he had breathed free air in Massachusetts for four years, and being a man of high spirit he felt that he must further test the prejudices of the cars. Consequently one very cold night, when a deep snow covered the pavements, he was out with his wife, and thought that he would ride; his wife being fair, he put her on the car at the corner of Third and Pine streets, and walked to the corner of Fourth and Pine streets, where he stepped into the car and took his seat. The conductor straightway ordered him out, on the plea of color. God had shaded him a little too much. "How is this, my wife is in this car," spake Miles. All eyes gazed around to see who his wife was. By this time the car had been stopped, and the wrath of the conductor was kindled prodigiously. He did not, however, lay violent hands upon Miles. A late decision in court had taught the police that they had no right to interfere, except in cases where the peace was actually being broken; so in order to get rid of this troublesome customer, the car was run off the track, the shivering passengers all leaving it, as though flying from a plague, with the exception of Miles, his wife, and another colored gentleman, who got on with Miles. The conductor then hoisted all the windows, took out the cushions, and unhitched the horses. But Miles and his party stood it bravely; Miles burning all the time with indignation at this exhibition of prejudice in the city of Brotherly Love. The war was then raging fiercely, and as Miles then felt, he was almost prepared to say, he didn't care which beat, as the woman said, when she saw her husband and the bear wrestling. He was compelled to admit that this prejudice was akin to slavery, and gave to slavery its chief support.

The occupants of the horseless car, which was being aired so thoroughly, remained in it for a length of time, until they had sufficiently borne their testimony, and they too quietly forsook it.

Prior to this event, by his industry and hard-earned savings, Miles had become the owner of a comfortable brick house, and had made up his mind to remain a citizen of Philadelphia, but the spirit which prompted the aforesaid treatment called up within him reflections somewhat similar to those aroused by Slavery, and it was not a great while before he offered his property for sale, including his business stand, resolving to return to Boston. He received an offer for his property, accepted it, pulled up stakes, and again hopefully turned his face thitherward. The ambitious Miles commenced business in Chelsea, near Boston, where he purchased himself a comfortable home; and he has ever since been successfully engaged in the sale of kerosene oil. Instead of seeking pleasure in the banjo, as he was wont to do in Virginia, he now finds delight in the Baptist Church, Rev. Mr. Grimes', of which he is a prominent member, and in other fields of usefulness tending to elevate and better the condition of society generally.

* * * * *

ARRIVAL FROM RICHMOND.

JOHN WILLIAM DUNGY.--BROUGHT A PASS FROM EX. GOV. GREGORY.

"He ought to be put in a cage and kept for a show," said Anna Brown, daughter of the hero, John Brown, at the house of the writer, where she happened to meet the above named Underground Rail Road passenger. He had then just returned from Canada, after being a Refugee four years. In the mean time through the war and the Proclamation of Father Abraham the fetters had been torn from the limbs of the slave, and the way to Richmond was open to all. John William on this occasion was on his way thither to see how his brethren together with their old oppressors looked facing each other as freemen. Miss Anna Brown was _en route_ to Norfolk, where she designed to teach a school of the unfettered bondmen. The return of the Refugee was as unexpected as it was gratifying. Scarcely had the cordial greetings of the writer and his family ended and the daughter of Brown been introduced before the writer was plying his Refugee guest with a multiplicity of questions relative to his sojourn in Canada, etc. "How have you been getting along in Canada? Do you like the country?" "First-rate," said John William. "You look as though you had neither been starved, nor frozen. Have you had plenty of work, made some money, and taken care of yourself?" "Yes." "When you were on the Underground Rail Road on your way to Canada you promised that you were going to keep from all bad habits; how about the 'crittur?' do you take a little sometimes?" "No, I have not drank a drop since I left the South" replied John William with emphasis. "Good!" "I suppose you smoke and chew at any rate?" "No, neither. I never think of such a thing." "Now don't you keep late hours at night and swear occasionally?" "No, Sir. All the leisure that I have of evenings is spent over my books as a general thing; I have not fallen into the fashionable customs of young men." Miss Brown, who had been an attentive listener, remarked: "HE OUGHT TO BE PUT IN A CAGE, ETC."

He was twenty-seven years of age when he first landed in Philadelphia, in the month of February, 1860, per steamer Pennsylvania, in which he had been stowed away in a store-room containing a lot of rubbish and furniture; in this way he reached City Point; here a family of Irish emigrants, very dirty, were taken on board, and orders were given that accommodations should be made for them in the room occupied by J.W. Here was trouble, but only for a moment. Those into whose charge he had been consigned on the boat knew that the kettle and pot-closet had often been used for Underground Rail Road purposes, and he was safely conducted to quarters among the pots. The room was exceedingly limited, but he stood it bravely. On landing he was not able to stand. It required not only his personal efforts but the help of friends to get him in a condition to walk. No sooner had he stepped on shore, however, than he began to cry aloud for joy. "Thank God!" rang out sonorously from his overflowing soul. Alarmed at this indication of gratitude his friends immediately told him that that would never do; that all hands would be betrayed; that he was far from being safe in Philadelphia. He suppressed his emotion. After being delivered into the hands of the Acting Committee, where he was in more private quarters, he gave full vent to the joy he experienced on reaching this city. He said that he had been trying earnestly for five years to obtain his freedom. For this special object he had saved up sixty-eight dollars and fifteen cents, all of which but the fifteen cents he willingly paid for his passage on the boat. Fifteen cents, the balance of his entire capital, was all that he had when he landed in Philadelphia.

Before leaving the South he was hired in the family of Ex-Governor Gregory. Of the Governor and his wife he spoke very highly,--said that they were kind to him and would readily favor him whenever he solicited them to do so. He stated that after making his arrangements to start, in order that he might be away several days before being missed, he told Mrs. Gregory that he would be glad to spend a week with his mother, (she lived some distance in the country). As he was not feeling very well she kindly acceded to his request, and told him to ask the Governor for a pass and some money. The Governor was busy writing, but he at once granted the prayer, wrote him a pass, gave John five dollars, adding that he was sorry that he had no more in his pocket, &c. John bowed and thanked the Governor, and soon got ready for his visit; but his route lay in a far different direction than that contemplated by the Governor and his lady. He was aiming for the Underground Rail Road. As has already been intimated, he was not owned by the Governor, but by the Ferrell heirs--five children who had moved from Virginia to Alabama years back. "Every Ferrell that lives is down on slaves; they are very severe," said John. Yet he had not suffered as many others had who belonged to them, as he had been a dining-room servant. At one time they had owned large numbers of slaves, but latterly they had been selling them off. Contrary to John's wishes his Alabama owners had notified him as well as the Governor, that in a short while he was to be taken to Alabama. This induced John to act with great promptness in leaving at the time that he did.

After passing several years in Canada as has been already noticed, he returned to Richmond and paid a visit to his old home.

He found that the governor and his wife had both departed, but two of the daughters (young ladies), still lived. They were both glad to see him; the younger especially; she told him that she was glad that he escaped, and that she "prayed for him." The elder remarked that she had always thought that he was too "good a Christian to run away." Another thing which she referred to, apparently with much feeling, was this: On his way to Canada, he wrote to the governor, from Rochester, "that he need put himself to no trouble in hunting him up, as he had made up his mind to visit Canada." She thought that John was rather "naughty," to write thus to her "papa," nevertheless, she was disposed to forgive him, after she had frankly spoken her mind.

John found Richmond, which so long had held him in chains, fully humbled, and her slave power utterly cast down. His wondering eyes gazed until he was perfectly satisfied that it was the Lord's doings, and it was marvellous in his eyes. He was more than ever resolved to get an education, and go back to Virginia, to help teach his brethren who had been so long denied the privilege. It was not long before he was at Oberlin College, a faithful student, commanding the highest respect from all the faculty for his good deportment and studious habits.

After advancing rapidly there, the way opened more fully to pursue his studies with greater facilities and less expense at a college in one of the Eastern States. He accepted the favors of friends who offered him assistance, with a view of preparing him for a mission among the freedmen, believing that he possessed in a high degree, the elements for a useful worker, preacher, organizer and teacher. As the friends alluded to, were about taking measures to start a college at Harper's Ferry, especially for the benefit of the Freedmen, they anticipated making this latitude the field of his future endeavors, at least for a time. Ere he graduated in view of the fact that the harvest in the South so urgently called for laborers, he was solicited to be an agent for the Storer College,[A] and subsequently to enter upon a mission under the auspices of the Free-Will Baptists, in Martinsburg, Virginia. For three or four years he labored in this field with commendable zeal and acceptably, gathering young and old in day and Sunday-schools, and also organizing churches. By his constant labors his health became impaired; receiving a call from a church in Providence, he accepted, not without knowing, however, that his mission was to be left in faithful hands, to carry on the good work.

[Footnote A: The appended extract from an official circular, issued by the Board of Instruction of Storer College, will throw light upon this Institution: STORER COLLEGE, HARPER'S FERRY, WEST VIRGINIA.

This Institution, deriving its name from John Storer, Esq., late of Sanford, Me., who gave ten thousand dollars to aid in its establishment, is located at Harper's Ferry, West Va., and has been chartered with full powers by a special act of the Legislature. The Corporation has been regularly organized, about thirty thousand dollars in money has been obtained, a large tract of land has been purchased, ample buildings have been secured, and a Normal School has been in successful operation during the last eighteen months. The U.S. authorities have repeatedly expressed their confidence in and sympathy with this undertaking, by liberal grants of money and buildings, and the agent for the distribution of the Peabody Fund, has pledged pecuniary aid to the best of the pupils in attendance, who may be in need of such assistance.

REV. J. CALDER, D.D., _Pres._,

Harrisburg, Penna.

Harper's Ferry, West Va., March 1, 1869.

REV. N.C. BRACKETT, _Act. Sec'y.,_

Harper's Ferry, West Va. ]

There is still need of efficient laborers in the Shenandoah Valley. According to the testimony of Mr. Dungy, scores of places may still be found where the children have no school privileges, and where many, both old and young, have never had the opportunity of entering a meeting-house or church since the war, as the spirit of the white Christians in these regions is greatly embittered against the colored people, owing to the abolition of Slavery; and they do not invite them to either church or school. Indeed, the churches are closed against them. At different times, Mr. Dungy has eloquently represented the condition of the colored churches of the South, in the city of Philadelphia. As a speaker, Mr. Dungy is able and interesting, of good address, remarkably graceful in his manners, and possessing much general information.

The subjoined letters received from him, while a fugitive in Canada, are characteristic of the man, and will repay a perusal.

BRANTFORD, March 3d, 1860.

MR. WM. STILL, DEAR SIR:--I have seated myself this evening to
write you a few lines to inform you that I have got through my
journey, and landed safely in Brantford, where I found my
friend, Stepney Brown, and we expressed great joy at meeting
each other, and had a great shaking of hands, and have not got
done talking yet of the old times we had in Virginia.

I thank God I am enjoying vigorous health, and hope you all are
well, as it is written in the first Psalm, "Blessed is the man
that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly, nor standeth in
the way of sinners, nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful."

I wish you may think of me often and pray for me that I may grow
a man, one of the followers of our meek and lowly Saviour. Give
my love to Mrs. Still, and family, and the Rev. Mr. Gibbs, that
was residing with you when I was there.

I must now inform you a little about Canada, at least as much of
it as I have seen and heard. I arrived in the city of Hamilton,
on the 15th February, 1860, at nine o'clock in the evening, and
the weather was dreary and cold, and the cars laid over there
until ten o'clock next day, and I went up into the city and saw
a portion of it. I then started for Toronto, arrived there same
day at 12 o'clock. There I met friends from Richmond, remained
there several days; during the time we had a very extensive snow
storm, and I took the opportunity of walking around the city
looking at the elephants, and other great sights. I liked it
very much; but upon hearing that my friend and brother Stepney
Brown was in Brantford, I became disatisfied and left for
Brantford on the 21st February, 1860. I have found it a very
pleasant, and have been told it is the prettiest place in
Canada.

It is built upon the Grand River, which is two hundred miles
long, and empties into Lake Erie. It rises to a great height
every spring, and great masses of ice come down, bringing
bridges, saw-logs, trees, and fairly sweeps everything before
it. The people who live upon the flats are in great danger of
being drowned in their houses.

I got a situation immediately at the Kerby House, by the
influence of my friend and brother, Stepney Brown, who I must
say has been very kind to me, as also have the people of
Brantford. The Kerbey House is the largest hotel in the town
about 250 rooms, and a stable at the back, with a gas-house of
its own. No more at present, but remain,

Yours very respectfully,

JOHN WILLIAM DUNGY.

P.S. Write at your earliest convenience, and oblige your friend,
J.W.D.

BRANTFORD, April 20th.

MR. STILL, DEAR SIR:--I feel myself quite lonesome this evening,
and not hearing from you lately I take this opportunity to drop
you a few lines. I have not much to say, brother Brown has left
for the falls, and expects to return next winter. The weather is
mild and warm at this time; the grass is putting up and begins
to look like spring. I thank the Lord I am enjoying good health
at this time. I hope this letter will find you and your family
well, give my compliments to them all and Mr. Gibbs and the
young lady that was at your house when I was there. Times has
been hard this winter, but they are increasing for the better. I
wrote to you a few days ago, I don't know whether you got my
letter. I asked in my letter if Mr. Williams was on the
pennsylvania, that runs from their to Richmond, Va. I should
have written to him, but I did not know his number, I also named
a friend of mine, Mr Plumer if he arrives their pleas to tell
him to come to Brantford, where I am for there are good chances
for business I think a great deal about my colored brethren in
the South but I hope to be a benefit to them one of these days.
We have quite a melancholy affair about one of our colored
brothers who made his escape from the South those who took him
up have gone back to obtain witness to convict him for murder.
These witness is to be here on Monday 23 inst but the defendence
of the law says they shant take him back unless they bring good
witness and men of truth I will write you more about it after
the trial comes of. I must say a little about myself. I want to
devote myself to study if I can for the next twelve months. I
expect to leave the Kirby House on the 5th of may. I have taken
a barber shop which is a very good situation and one hand
employed with me. I would be much oblige to you if you would
give me some advice what to do. I sent you the morning herald
yesterday which contained a accident which occurd on the G.
trunk R.W. you will see in it that we don't have much politics
here. The late destructive fire we had I thought it would have
kept brantford back this summer but it is increasing slowly I
have nothing more to say at this time. I hope the Lord may bless
you all and take care of you in this world, and after time
receive you in his everlasting kingdom through Jesus Christ our
Lord. Answer this as soon as convenient. Good bye.

Yours respectfully

J.W. DUNGY.

BRANTFORD, C.W., JANUARY 11th, 61.

MR. WM. STILL, DEAR SIR:--I take this opportunity to drop you a
few lines to let you hear from me. I am well at this time,
hoping this will find you the same.

I acknowledge my great neglectness of you with great regret that
I have not answered your letter before this, I hope you will
excuse me as I have succeeded in getting me a wife since I wrote
to you last.

My mind has been much taken up in so doing for several months
past. Give my compliments to your wife and your family, and Mr.
Gibbs, also hoping they are all well. Tell Mrs. Still to pray
for me that I may grow in grace and the knowledge of the truth
as it is in Jesus.

I often think of you all. I pray that the time may come when we
will all be men in the United States. We have read here of the
great disturbance in the South. My prayer is that this may be a
deathblow to Slavery. Do you ever have any Underground Rail Road
passengers now? Times have been very prosperous in Canada this
year.

The commercial trade and traffic on the railways has been very
dull for these few months back. Business on the Buffalo and Lake
Huron railway has been so dull that a great number of the hands
have been discharged on account of the panic in the South.

Canada yet cries, Freedom! Freedom! Freedom!

I must now say a little about my friend and brother Stepney
Brown, he lived about six months at the Niagara Falls and is now
going to school here in Brantford, he sends his best respects to
you all. He and I often sit together at night after the labor of
the day is over talking about our absent friends wishing we
could see them once more.

Mr. Brown and myself have been wishing for one or two of your
slavery standards and would be much obliged to you if you would
send some of the latest.

Please let me hear from you as soon as possible. I must now
bring my letter to a close and remain your affectionate friend,

J.W. DUNGY.

P.S. May the Lord be with you. J.W. DUNGY.

Address your letter to John W. Dungy, Brantford, C.W.

"AUNT HANNAH MOORE."

In 1854 in company with her so-called Mistress (Mary Moore) Aunt Hannah arrived in Philadelphia, from Missouri, being _en route_ to California, where she with her mistress was to join her master, who had gone there years before to seek his fortune. The mistress having relatives in this city tarried here a short time, not doubting that she had sufficient control over Aunt Hannah to keep her from contact with either abolitionists or those of her own color, and that she would have no difficulty in taking her with her to her journey's end. If such were her calculations she was greatly mistaken. For although Aunt Hannah was destitute of book-learning she was nevertheless a woman of thought and natural ability, and while she wisely kept her counsel from her mistress she took care to make her wants known to an abolitionist. She had passed many years under the yoke, under different owners, and now seeing a ray of hope she availed herself of the opportunity to secure her freedom. She had occasion to go to a store in the neighborhood where she was stopping, and to her unspeakable joy she found the proprietor an abolitionist and a friend who inquired into her condition and proffered her assistance. The store-keeper quickly made known her condition at the Anti-slavery Office, and in double-quick time J.M. McKim and Charles Wise as abolitionists and members of the Vigilance Committee repaired to the stopping-place of the mistress and her slave to demand in the name of humanity and the laws of Pennsylvania that Aunt Hannah should be no longer held in fetters but that she should be immediately proclaimed free. In the eyes of the mistress this procedure was so extraordinary that she became very much excited and for a moment threatened them with the "broomstick," but her raving had no effect on Messrs. McKim and Wise, who did not rest contented until Aunt Hannah was safely in their hands. She had lived a slave in Moore's family in the State of Missouri about ten years and said she was treated very well, had plenty to eat, plenty to wear, and a plenty of work. It was prior to her coming into the possession of Moore that Aunt Hannah had been made to drink the bitter waters of oppression. From this point, therefore, we shall present some of the incidents of her life, from infancy, and very nearly word for word as she related them:

"Moore bought me from a man named McCaully, who owned me about a year. I fared dreadful bad under McCaully. One day in a rage he undertook to beat me with the limb of a cherry-tree; he began at me and tried in the first place to snatch my clothes off, but he did not succeed. After that he beat the cherry-tree limb all to pieces over me. The first blow struck me on the back of my neck and knocked me down; his wife was looking on, sitting on the side of the bed crying to him to lay on. After the limb was worn out he then went out to the yard and got a lath, and he come at me again and beat me with that until he broke it all to pieces. He was not satisfied then; he next went to the fence and tore off a paling, and with that he took both hands, 'cursing' me all the time as hard as he could. With an oath he would say, 'now don't you love me?' 'Oh master, I will pray for you, I would cry, then he would 'cuss' harder than ever.' He beat me until he was tired and quit. I crept out of doors and throwed up blood; some days I was hardly able to creep. With this beating I was laid up several weeks. Another time Mistress McCaully got very angry. One day she beat me as bad as he did. She was a woman who would get very mad in a minute. One day she began scolding and said the kitchen wasn't kept clean. I told her the kitchen was kept as clean as any kitchen in the place; she spoke very angry, and said she didn't go by other folks but she had rules of her own. She soon ordered me to come in to her. I went in as she ordered me; she met me with a mule-rope, and ordered me to cross my hands. I crossed my hands and she tied me to the bedstead. Here her husband said, 'my dear, now let me do the fighting.' In her mad fit she said he shouldn't do it, and told him to stand back and keep out of the way or I will give you the cowhide she said to him. He then 'sot' down in a 'cheer' and looked like a man condemned to be hung; then she whipped me with the cowhide until I sunk to the floor. He then begged her to quit. He said to his wife she has begged and begged and you have whipped her enough. She only raged 'wus;' she turned the butt end of the cowhide and struck me five or six blows over my head as hard as she could; she then throwed the cowhide down and told a little girl to untie me. The little girl was not able to do it; Mr. McCaully then untied me himself. Both times that I was beat the blood run down from my head to my feet.

"They wouldn't give you anything to eat hardly. McCaully bore the name of coming by free colored children without buying them, and selling them afterwards. One boy on the place always said that he was free but had been kidnapped from Arkansas. He could tell all about how he was kidnapped, but could not find anybody to do anything for him, so he had to content himself.

"McCaully bought me from a man by the name of Landers. While in Landers' hands I had the rheumatism and was not able to work. He was afraid I was going to die, or he would lose me, and I would not be of any service to him, so he took and traded me off for a wagon. I was something better when he traded me off; well enough to be about. My health remained bad for about four years, and I never got my health until Moore bought me. Moore took me for a debt. McCaully owed Moore for wagons. I was not born in Missouri but was born in Virginia. From my earliest memory I was owned by Conrad Hackler; he lived in Grason County. He was a very poor man, and had no other slave but me. He bought me before I was quite four years old, for one hundred dollars. Hackler bought me from a man named William Scott. I must go back by good rights to the beginning and tell all: Scott bought me first from a young man he met one day in the road, with a bundle in his arms. Scott, wishing to know of the young man what he had in his bundle, was told that he had a baby. 'What are you going to do with it?' said Scott. The young man said that he was going to take it to his sister; that its mother was dead, and it had nobody to take care of it. Scott offered the young man a horse for it, and the young man took him up. This is the way I was told that Scott came by me. I never knowed anything about my mother or father, but I have always believed that my mother was a white woman, and that I was put away to save her character; I have always thought this. Under Hackler I was treated more like a brute than a human being. I was fed like the dogs; had a trough dug out of a piece of wood for a plate. After I growed up to ten years old they made me sleep out in an old house standing off some distance from the main house where my master and mistress lived. A bed of straw and old rags was made for me in a big trough called the tan trough (a trough having been used for tanning purposes). The cats about the place came and slept with me, and was all the company I had. I had to work with the hoe in the field and help do everything in doors and out in all weathers. The place was so poor that some seasons he would not raise twenty bushels of corn and hardly three bushels of wheat. As for shoes I never knowed what it was to have a pair of shoes until I was grown up. After I growed up to be a woman my master thought nothing of taking my clothes off, and would whip me until the blood would run down to the ground. After I was twenty-five years old they did not treat me so bad; they both professed to get religion about that time; and my master said he would never lay the weight of his finger on me again. Once after that mistress wanted him to whip me, but he didn't do it, nor never whipped me any more. After awhile my master died; if they had gone according to law I would have been hired out or sold, but my mistress wanted to keep me to carry on the place for her support. So I was kept for seven or eight years after his death. It was understood between my mistress, and her children, and her friends, who all met after master died, that I was to take care of mistress, and after mistress died I should not serve anybody else. I done my best to keep my mistress from suffering. After a few years they all became dissatisfied, and moved to Missouri. They scattered, and took up government land. Without means they lived as poor people commonly live, on small farms in the woods. I still lived with my mistress. Some of the heirs got dissatisfied, and sued for their rights or a settlement; then I was sold with my child, a boy."