summaryrefslogtreecommitdiff
path: root/old/8htub10h.htm
blob: 467e167b19585a5e27730dc5a30d9fb950f4eead (plain) 
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471
472
473
474
475
476
477
478
479
480
481
482
483
484
485
486
487
488
489
490
491
492
493
494
495
496
497
498
499
500
501
502
503
504
505
506
507
508
509
510
511
512
513
514
515
516
517
518
519
520
521
522
523
524
525
526
527
528
529
530
531
532
533
534
535
536
537
538
539
540
541
542
543
544
545
546
547
548
549
550
551
552
553
554
555
556
557
558
559
560
561
562
563
564
565
566
567
568
569
570
571
572
573
574
575
576
577
578
579
580
581
582
583
584
585
586
587
588
589
590
591
592
593
594
595
596
597
598
599
600
601
602
603
604
605
606
607
608
609
610
611
612
613
614
615
616
617
618
619
620
621
622
623
624
625
626
627
628
629
630
631
632
633
634
635
636
637
638
639
640
641
642
643
644
645
646
647
648
649
650
651
652
653
654
655
656
657
658
659
660
661
662
663
664
665
666
667
668
669
670
671
672
673
674
675
676
677
678
679
680
681
682
683
684
685
686
687
688
689
690
691
692
693
694
695
696
697
698
699
700
701
702
703
704
705
706
707
708
709
710
711
712
713
714
715
716
717
718
719
720
721
722
723
724
725
726
727
728
729
730
731
732
733
734
735
736
737
738
739
740
741
742
743
744
745
746
747
748
749
750
751
752
753
754
755
756
757
758
759
760
761
762
763
764
765
766
767
768
769
770
771
772
773
774
775
776
777
778
779
780
781
782
783
784
785
786
787
788
789
790
791
792
793
794
795
796
797
798
799
800
801
802
803
804
805
806
807
808
809
810
811
812
813
814
815
816
817
818
819
820
821
822
823
824
825
826
827
828
829
830
831
832
833
834
835
836
837
838
839
840
841
842
843
844
845
846
847
848
849
850
851
852
853
854
855
856
857
858
859
860
861
862
863
864
865
866
867
868
869
870
871
872
873
874
875
876
877
878
879
880
881
882
883
884
885
886
887
888
889
890
891
892
893
894
895
896
897
898
899
900
901
902
903
904
905
906
907
908
909
910
911
912
913
914
915
916
917
918
919
920
921
922
923
924
925
926
927
928
929
930
931
932
933
934
935
936
937
938
939
940
941
942
943
944
945
946
947
948
949
950
951
952
953
954
955
956
957
958
959
960
961
962
963
964
965
966
967
968
969
970
971
972
973
974
975
976
977
978
979
980
981
982
983
984
985
986
987
988
989
990
991
992
993
994
995
996
997
998
999
1000
1001
1002
1003
1004
1005
1006
1007
1008
1009
1010
1011
1012
1013
1014
1015
1016
1017
1018
1019
1020
1021
1022
1023
1024
1025
1026
1027
1028
1029
1030
1031
1032
1033
1034
1035
1036
1037
1038
1039
1040
1041
1042
1043
1044
1045
1046
1047
1048
1049
1050
1051
1052
1053
1054
1055
1056
1057
1058
1059
1060
1061
1062
1063
1064
1065
1066
1067
1068
1069
1070
1071
1072
1073
1074
1075
1076
1077
1078
1079
1080
1081
1082
1083
1084
1085
1086
1087
1088
1089
1090
1091
1092
1093
1094
1095
1096
1097
1098
1099
1100
1101
1102
1103
1104
1105
1106
1107
1108
1109
1110
1111
1112
1113
1114
1115
1116
1117
1118
1119
1120
1121
1122
1123
1124
1125
1126
1127
1128
1129
1130
1131
1132
1133
1134
1135
1136
1137
1138
1139
1140
1141
1142
1143
1144
1145
1146
1147
1148
1149
1150
1151
1152
1153
1154
1155
1156
1157
1158
1159
1160
1161
1162
1163
1164
1165
1166
1167
1168
1169
1170
1171
1172
1173
1174
1175
1176
1177
1178
1179
1180
1181
1182
1183
1184
1185
1186
1187
1188
1189
1190
1191
1192
1193
1194
1195
1196
1197
1198
1199
1200
1201
1202
1203
1204
1205
1206
1207
1208
1209
1210
1211
1212
1213
1214
1215
1216
1217
1218
1219
1220
1221
1222
1223
1224
1225
1226
1227
1228
1229
1230
1231
1232
1233
1234
1235
1236
1237
1238
1239
1240
1241
1242
1243
1244
1245
1246
1247
1248
1249
1250
1251
1252
1253
1254
1255
1256
1257
1258
1259
1260
1261
1262
1263
1264
1265
1266
1267
1268
1269
1270
1271
1272
1273
1274
1275
1276
1277
1278
1279
1280
1281
1282
1283
1284
1285
1286
1287
1288
1289
1290
1291
1292
1293
1294
1295
1296
1297
1298
1299
1300
1301
1302
1303
1304
1305
1306
1307
1308
1309
1310
1311
1312
1313
1314
1315
1316
1317
1318
1319
1320
1321
1322
1323
1324
1325
1326
1327
1328
1329
1330
1331
1332
1333
1334
1335
1336
1337
1338
1339
1340
1341
1342
1343
1344
1345
1346
1347
1348
1349
1350
1351
1352
1353
1354
1355
1356
1357
1358
1359
1360
1361
1362
1363
1364
1365
1366
1367
1368
1369
1370
1371
1372
1373
1374
1375
1376
1377
1378
1379
1380
1381
1382
1383
1384
1385
1386
1387
1388
1389
1390
1391
1392
1393
1394
1395
1396
1397
1398
1399
1400
1401
1402
1403
1404
1405
1406
1407
1408
1409
1410
1411
1412
1413
1414
1415
1416
1417
1418
1419
1420
1421
1422
1423
1424
1425
1426
1427
1428
1429
1430
1431
1432
1433
1434
1435
1436
1437
1438
1439
1440
1441
1442
1443
1444
1445
1446
1447
1448
1449
1450
1451
1452
1453
1454
1455
1456
1457
1458
1459
1460
1461
1462
1463
1464
1465
1466
1467
1468
1469
1470
1471
1472
1473
1474
1475
1476
1477
1478
1479
1480
1481
1482
1483
1484
1485
1486
1487
1488
1489
1490
1491
1492
1493
1494
1495
1496
1497
1498
1499
1500
1501
1502
1503
1504
1505
1506
1507
1508
1509
1510
1511
1512
1513
1514
1515
1516
1517
1518
1519
1520
1521
1522
1523
1524
1525
1526
1527
1528
1529
1530
1531
1532
1533
1534
1535
1536
1537
1538
1539
1540
1541
1542
1543
1544
1545
1546
1547
1548
1549
1550
1551
1552
1553
1554
1555
1556
1557
1558
1559
1560
1561
1562
1563
1564
1565
1566
1567
1568
1569
1570
1571
1572
1573
1574
1575
1576
1577
1578
1579
1580
1581
1582
1583
1584
1585
1586
1587
1588
1589
1590
1591
1592
1593
1594
1595
1596
1597
1598
1599
1600
1601
1602
1603
1604
1605
1606
1607
1608
1609
1610
1611
1612
1613
1614
1615
1616
1617
1618
1619
1620
1621
1622
1623
1624
1625
1626
1627
1628
1629
1630
1631
1632
1633
1634
1635
1636
1637
1638
1639
1640
1641
1642
1643
1644
1645
1646
1647
1648
1649
1650
1651
1652
1653
1654
1655
1656
1657
1658
1659
1660
1661
1662
1663
1664
1665
1666
1667
1668
1669
1670
1671
1672
1673
1674
1675
1676
1677
1678
1679
1680
1681
1682
1683
1684
1685
1686
1687
1688
1689
1690
1691
1692
1693
1694
1695
1696
1697
1698
1699
1700
1701
1702
1703
1704
1705
1706
1707
1708
1709
1710
1711
1712
1713
1714
1715
1716
1717
1718
1719
1720
1721
1722
1723
1724
1725
1726
1727
1728
1729
1730
1731
1732
1733
1734
1735
1736
1737
1738
1739
1740
1741
1742
1743
1744
1745
1746
1747
1748
1749
1750
1751
1752
1753
1754
1755
1756
1757
1758
1759
1760
1761
1762
1763
1764
1765
1766
1767
1768
1769
1770
1771
1772
1773
1774
1775
1776
1777
1778
1779
1780
1781
1782
1783
1784
1785
1786
1787
1788
1789
1790
1791
1792
1793
1794
1795
1796
1797
1798
1799
1800
1801
1802
1803
1804
1805
1806
1807
1808
1809
1810
1811
1812
1813
1814
1815
1816
1817
1818
1819
1820
1821
1822
1823
1824
1825
1826
1827
1828
1829
1830
1831
1832
1833
1834
1835
1836
1837
1838
1839
1840
1841
1842
1843
1844
1845
1846
1847
1848
1849
1850
1851
1852
1853
1854
1855
1856
1857
1858
1859
1860
1861
1862
1863
1864
1865
1866
1867
1868
1869
1870
1871
1872
1873
1874
1875
1876
1877
1878
1879
1880
1881
1882
1883
1884
1885
1886
1887
1888
1889
1890
1891
1892
1893
1894
1895
1896
1897
1898
1899
1900
1901
1902
1903
1904
1905
1906
1907
1908
1909
1910
1911
1912
1913
1914
1915
1916
1917
1918
1919
1920
1921
1922
1923
1924
1925
1926
1927
1928
1929
1930
1931
1932
1933
1934
1935
1936
1937
1938
1939
1940
1941
1942
1943
1944
1945
1946
1947
1948
1949
1950
1951
1952
1953
1954
1955
1956
1957
1958
1959
1960
1961
1962
1963
1964
1965
1966
1967
1968
1969
1970
1971
1972
1973
1974
1975
1976
1977
1978
1979
1980
1981
1982
1983
1984
1985
1986
1987
1988
1989
1990
1991
1992
1993
1994
1995
1996
1997
1998
1999
2000
2001
2002
2003
2004
2005
2006
2007
2008
2009
2010
2011
2012
2013
2014
2015
2016
2017
2018
2019
2020
2021
2022
2023
2024
2025
2026
2027
2028
2029
2030
2031
2032
2033
2034
2035
2036
2037
2038
2039
2040
2041
2042
2043
2044
2045
2046
2047
2048
2049
2050
2051
2052
2053
2054
2055
2056
2057
2058
2059
2060
2061
2062
2063
2064
2065
2066
2067
2068
2069
2070
2071
2072
2073
2074
2075
2076
2077
2078
2079
2080
2081
2082
2083
2084
2085
2086
2087
2088
2089
2090
2091
2092
2093
2094
2095
2096
2097
2098
2099
2100
2101
2102
2103
2104
2105
2106
2107
2108
2109
2110
2111
2112
2113
2114
2115
2116
2117
2118
2119
2120
2121
2122
2123
2124
2125
2126
2127
2128
2129
2130
2131
2132
2133
2134
2135
2136
2137
2138
2139
2140
2141
2142
2143
2144
2145
2146
2147
2148
2149
2150
2151
2152
2153
2154
2155
2156
2157
2158
2159
2160
2161
2162
2163
2164
2165
2166
2167
2168
2169
2170
2171
2172
2173
2174
2175
2176
2177
2178
2179
2180
2181
2182
2183
2184
2185
2186
2187
2188
2189
2190
2191
2192
2193
2194
2195
2196
2197
2198
2199
2200
2201
2202
2203
2204
2205
2206
2207
2208
2209
2210
2211
2212
2213
2214
2215
2216
2217
2218
2219
2220
2221
2222
2223
2224
2225
2226
2227
2228
2229
2230
2231
2232
2233
2234
2235
2236
2237
2238
2239
2240
2241
2242
2243
2244
2245
2246
2247
2248
2249
2250
2251
2252
2253
2254
2255
2256
2257
2258
2259
2260
2261
2262
2263
2264
2265
2266
2267
2268
2269
2270
2271
2272
2273
2274
2275
2276
2277
2278
2279
2280
2281
2282
2283
2284
2285
2286
2287
2288
2289
2290
2291
2292
2293
2294
2295
2296
2297
2298
2299
2300
2301
2302
2303
2304
2305
2306
2307
2308
2309
2310
2311
2312
2313
2314
2315
2316
2317
2318
2319
2320
2321
2322
2323
2324
2325
2326
2327
2328
2329
2330
2331
2332
2333
2334
2335
2336
2337
2338
2339
2340
2341
2342
2343
2344
2345
2346
2347
2348
2349
2350
2351
2352
2353
2354
2355
2356
2357
2358
2359
2360
2361
2362
2363
2364
2365
2366
2367
2368
2369
2370
2371
2372
2373
2374
2375
2376
2377
2378
2379
2380
2381
2382
2383
2384
2385
2386
2387
2388
2389
2390
2391
2392
2393
2394
2395
2396
2397
2398
2399
2400
2401
2402
2403
2404
2405
2406
2407
2408
2409
2410
2411
2412
2413
2414
2415
2416
2417
2418
2419
2420
2421
2422
2423
2424
2425
2426
2427
2428
2429
2430
2431
2432
2433
2434
2435
2436
2437
2438
2439
2440
2441
2442
2443
2444
2445
2446
2447
2448
2449
2450
2451
2452
2453
2454
2455
2456
2457
2458
2459
2460
2461
2462
2463
2464
2465
2466
2467
2468
2469
2470
2471
2472
2473
2474
2475
2476
2477
2478
2479
2480
2481
2482
2483
2484
2485
2486
2487
2488
2489
2490
2491
2492
2493
2494
2495
2496
2497
2498
2499
2500
2501
2502
2503
2504
2505
2506
2507
2508
2509
2510
2511
2512
2513
2514
2515
2516
2517
2518
2519
2520
2521
2522
2523
2524
2525
2526
2527
2528
2529
2530
2531
2532
2533
2534
2535
2536
2537
2538
2539
2540
2541
2542
2543
2544
2545
2546
2547
2548
2549
2550
2551
2552
2553
2554
2555
2556
2557
2558
2559
2560
2561
2562
2563
2564
2565
2566
2567
2568
2569
2570
2571
2572
2573
2574
2575
2576
2577
2578
2579
2580
2581
2582
2583
2584
2585
2586
2587
2588
2589
2590
2591
2592
2593
2594
2595
2596
2597
2598
2599
2600
2601
2602
2603
2604
2605
2606
2607
2608
2609
2610
2611
2612
2613
2614
2615
2616
2617
2618
2619
2620
2621
2622
2623
2624
2625
2626
2627
2628
2629
2630
2631
2632
2633
2634
2635
2636
2637
2638
2639
2640
2641
2642
2643
2644
2645
2646
2647
2648
2649
2650
2651
2652
2653
2654
2655
2656
2657
2658
2659
2660
2661
2662
2663
2664
2665
2666
2667
2668
2669
2670
2671
2672
2673
2674
2675
2676
2677
2678
2679
2680
2681
2682
2683
2684
2685
2686
2687
2688
2689
2690
2691
2692
2693
2694
2695
2696
2697
2698
2699
2700
2701
2702
2703
2704
2705
2706
2707
2708
2709
2710
2711
2712
2713
2714
2715
2716
2717
2718
2719
2720
2721
2722
2723
2724
2725
2726
2727
2728
2729
2730
2731
2732
2733
2734
2735
2736
2737
2738
2739
2740
2741
2742
2743
2744
2745
2746
2747
2748
2749
2750
2751
2752
2753
2754
2755
2756
2757
2758
2759
2760
2761
2762
2763
2764
2765
2766
2767
2768
2769
2770
2771
2772
2773
2774
2775
2776
2777
2778
2779
2780
2781
2782
2783
2784
2785
2786
2787
2788
2789
2790
2791
2792
2793
2794
2795
2796
2797
2798
2799
2800
2801
2802
2803
2804
2805
2806
2807
2808
2809
2810
2811
2812
2813
2814
2815
2816
2817
2818
2819
2820
2821
2822
2823
2824
2825
2826
2827
2828
2829
2830
2831
2832
2833
2834
2835
2836
2837
2838
2839
2840
2841
2842
2843
2844
2845
2846
2847
2848
2849
2850
2851
2852
2853
2854
2855
2856
2857
2858
2859
2860
2861
2862
2863
2864
2865
2866
2867
2868
2869
2870
2871
2872
2873
2874
2875
2876
2877
2878
2879
2880
2881
2882
2883
2884
2885
2886
2887
2888
2889
2890
2891
2892
2893
2894
2895
2896
2897
2898
2899
2900
2901
2902
2903
2904
2905
2906
2907
2908
2909
2910
2911
2912
2913
2914
2915
2916
2917
2918
2919
2920
2921
2922
2923
2924
2925
2926
2927
2928
2929
2930
2931
2932
2933
2934
2935
2936
2937
2938
2939
2940
2941
2942
2943
2944
2945
2946
2947
2948
2949
2950
2951
2952
2953
2954
2955
2956
2957
2958
2959
2960
2961
2962
2963
2964
2965
2966
2967
2968
2969
2970
2971
2972
2973
2974
2975
2976
2977
2978
2979
2980
2981
2982
2983
2984
2985
2986
2987
2988
2989
2990
2991
2992
2993
2994
2995
2996
2997
2998
2999
3000
3001
3002
3003
3004
3005
3006
3007
3008
3009
3010
3011
3012
3013
3014
3015
3016
3017
3018
3019
3020
3021
3022
3023
3024
3025
3026
3027
3028
3029
3030
3031
3032
3033
3034
3035
3036
3037
3038
3039
3040
3041
3042
3043
3044
3045
3046
3047
3048
3049
3050
3051
3052
3053
3054
3055
3056
3057
3058
3059
3060
3061
3062
3063
3064
3065
3066
3067
3068
3069
3070
3071
3072
3073
3074
3075
3076
3077
3078
3079
3080
3081
3082
3083
3084
3085
3086
3087
3088
3089
3090
3091
3092
3093
3094
3095
3096
3097
3098
3099
3100
3101
3102
3103
3104
3105
3106
3107
3108
3109
3110
3111
3112
3113
3114
3115
3116
3117
3118
3119
3120
3121
3122
3123
3124
3125
3126
3127
3128
3129
3130
3131
3132
3133
3134
3135
3136
3137
3138
3139
3140
3141
3142
3143
3144
3145
3146
3147
3148
3149
3150
3151
3152
3153
3154
3155
3156
3157
3158
3159
3160
3161
3162
3163
3164
3165
3166
3167
3168
3169
3170
3171
3172
3173
3174
3175
3176
3177
3178
3179
3180
3181
3182
3183
3184
3185
3186
3187
3188
3189
3190
3191
3192
3193
3194
3195
3196
3197
3198
3199
3200
3201
3202
3203
3204
3205
3206
3207
3208
3209
3210
3211
3212
3213
3214
3215
3216
3217
3218
3219
3220
3221
3222
3223
3224
3225
3226
3227
3228
3229
3230
3231
3232
3233
3234
3235
3236
3237
3238
3239
3240
3241
3242
3243
3244
3245
3246
3247
3248
3249
3250
3251
3252
3253
3254
3255
3256
3257
3258
3259
3260
3261
3262
3263
3264
3265
3266
3267
3268
3269
3270
3271
3272
3273
3274
3275
3276
3277
3278
3279
3280
3281
3282
3283
3284
3285
3286
3287
3288
3289
3290
3291
3292
3293
3294
3295
3296
3297
3298
3299
3300
3301
3302
3303
3304
3305
3306
3307
3308
3309
3310
3311
3312
3313
3314
3315
3316
3317
3318
3319
3320
3321
3322
3323
3324
3325
3326
3327
3328
3329
3330
3331
3332
3333
3334
3335
3336
3337
3338
3339
3340
3341
3342
3343
3344
3345
3346
3347
3348
3349
3350
3351
3352
3353
3354
3355
3356
3357
3358
3359
3360
3361
3362
3363
3364
3365
3366
3367
3368
3369
3370
3371
3372
3373
3374
3375
3376
3377
3378
3379
3380
3381
3382
3383
3384
3385
3386
3387
3388
3389
3390
3391
3392
3393
3394
3395
3396
3397
3398
3399
3400
3401
3402
3403
3404
3405
3406
3407
3408
3409
3410
3411
3412
3413
3414
3415
3416
3417
3418
3419
3420
3421
3422
3423
3424
3425
3426
3427
3428
3429
3430
3431
3432
3433
3434
3435
3436
3437
3438
3439
3440
3441
3442
3443
3444
3445
3446
3447
3448
3449
3450
3451
3452
3453
3454
3455
3456
3457
3458
3459
3460
3461
3462
3463
3464
3465
3466
3467
3468
3469
3470
3471
3472
3473
3474
3475
3476
3477
3478
3479
3480
3481
3482
3483
3484
3485
3486
3487
3488
3489
3490
3491
3492
3493
3494
3495
3496
3497
3498
3499
3500
3501
3502
3503
3504
3505
3506
3507
3508
3509
3510
3511
3512
3513
3514
3515
3516
3517
3518
3519
3520
3521
3522
3523
3524
3525
3526
3527
3528
3529
3530
3531
3532
3533
3534
3535
3536
3537
3538
3539
3540
3541
3542
3543
3544
3545
3546
3547
3548
3549
3550
3551
3552
3553
3554
3555
3556
3557
3558
3559
3560
3561
3562
3563
3564
3565
3566
3567
3568
3569
3570
3571
3572
3573
3574
3575
3576
3577
3578
3579
3580
3581
3582
3583
3584
3585
3586
3587
3588
3589
3590
3591
3592
3593
3594
3595
3596
3597
3598
3599
3600
3601
3602
3603
3604
3605
3606
3607
3608
3609
3610
3611
3612
3613
3614
3615
3616
3617
3618
3619
3620
3621
3622
3623
3624
3625
3626
3627
3628
3629
3630
3631
3632
3633
3634
3635
3636
3637
3638
3639
3640
3641
3642
3643
3644
3645
3646
3647
3648
3649
3650
3651
3652
3653
3654
3655
3656
3657
3658
3659
3660
3661
3662
3663
3664
3665
3666
3667
3668
3669
3670
3671
3672
3673
3674
3675
3676
3677
3678
3679
3680
3681
3682
3683
3684
3685
3686
3687
3688
3689
3690
3691
3692
3693
3694
3695
3696
3697
3698
3699
3700
3701
3702
3703
3704
3705
3706
3707
3708
3709
3710
3711
3712
3713
3714
3715
3716
3717
3718
3719
3720
3721
3722
3723
3724
3725
3726
3727
3728
3729
3730
3731
3732
3733
3734
3735
3736
3737
3738
3739
3740
3741
3742
3743
3744
3745
3746
3747
3748
3749
3750
3751
3752
3753
3754
3755
3756
3757
3758
3759
3760
3761
3762
3763
3764
3765
3766
3767
3768
3769
3770
3771
3772
3773
3774
3775
3776
3777
3778
3779
3780
3781
3782
3783
3784
3785
3786
3787
3788
3789
3790
3791
3792
3793
3794
3795
3796
3797
3798
3799
3800
3801
3802
3803
3804
3805
3806
3807
3808
3809
3810
3811
3812
3813
3814
3815
3816
3817
3818
3819
3820
3821
3822
3823
3824
3825
3826
3827
3828
3829
3830
3831
3832
3833
3834
3835
3836
3837
3838
3839
3840
3841
3842
3843
3844
3845
3846
3847
3848
3849
3850
3851
3852
3853
3854
3855
3856
3857
3858
3859
3860
3861
3862
3863
3864
3865
3866
3867
3868
3869
3870
3871
3872
3873
3874
3875
3876
3877
3878
3879
3880
3881
3882
3883
3884
3885
3886
3887
3888
3889
3890
3891
3892
3893
3894
3895
3896
3897
3898
3899
3900
3901
3902
3903
3904
3905
3906
3907
3908
3909
3910
3911
3912
3913
3914
3915
3916
3917
3918
3919
3920
3921
3922
3923
3924
3925
3926
3927
3928
3929
3930
3931
3932
3933
3934
3935
3936
3937
3938
3939
3940
3941
3942
3943
3944
3945
3946
3947
3948
3949
3950
3951
3952
3953
3954
3955
3956
3957
3958
3959
3960
3961
3962
3963
3964
3965
3966
3967
3968
3969
3970
3971
3972
3973
3974
3975
3976
3977
3978
3979
3980
3981
3982
3983
3984
3985
3986
3987
3988
3989
3990
3991
3992
3993
3994
3995
3996
3997
3998
3999
4000
4001
4002
4003
4004
4005
4006
4007
4008
4009
4010
4011
4012
4013
4014
4015
4016
4017
4018
4019
4020
4021
4022
4023
4024
4025
4026
4027
4028
4029
4030
4031
4032
4033
4034
4035
4036
4037
4038
4039
4040
4041
4042
4043
4044
4045
4046
4047
4048
4049
4050
4051
4052
4053
4054
4055
4056
4057
4058
4059
4060
4061
4062
4063
4064
4065
4066
4067
4068
4069
4070
4071
4072
4073
4074
4075
4076
4077
4078
4079
4080
4081
4082
4083
4084
4085
4086
4087
4088
4089
4090
4091
4092
4093
4094
4095
4096
4097
4098
4099
4100
4101
4102
4103
4104
4105
4106
4107
4108
4109
4110
4111
4112
4113
4114
4115
4116
4117
4118
4119
4120
4121
4122
4123
4124
4125
4126
4127
4128
4129
4130
4131
4132
4133
4134
4135
4136
4137
4138
4139
4140
4141
4142
4143
4144
4145
4146
4147
4148
4149
4150
4151
4152
4153
4154
4155
4156
4157
4158
4159
4160
4161
4162
4163
4164
4165
4166
4167
4168
4169
4170
4171
4172
4173
4174
4175
4176
4177
4178
4179
4180
4181
4182
4183
4184
4185
4186
4187
4188
4189
4190
4191
4192
4193
4194
4195
4196
4197
4198
4199
4200
4201
4202
4203
4204
4205
4206
4207
4208
4209
4210
4211
4212
4213
4214
4215
4216
4217
4218
4219
4220
4221
4222
4223
4224
4225
4226
4227
4228
4229
4230
4231
4232
4233
4234
4235
4236
4237
4238
4239
4240
4241
4242
4243
4244
4245
4246
4247
4248
4249
4250
4251
4252
4253
4254
4255
4256
4257
4258
4259
4260
4261
4262
4263
4264
4265
4266
4267
4268
4269
4270
4271
4272
4273
4274
4275
4276
4277
4278
4279
4280
4281
4282
4283
4284
4285
4286
4287
4288
4289
4290
4291
4292
4293
4294
4295
4296
4297
4298
4299
4300
4301
4302
4303
4304
4305
4306
4307
4308
4309
4310
4311
4312
4313
4314
4315
4316
4317
4318
4319
4320
4321
4322
4323
4324
4325
4326
4327
4328
4329
4330
4331
4332
4333
4334
4335
4336
4337
4338
4339
4340
4341
4342
4343
4344
4345
4346
4347
4348
4349
4350
4351
4352
4353
4354
4355
4356
4357
4358
4359
4360
4361
4362
4363
4364
4365
4366
4367
4368
4369
4370
4371
4372
4373
4374
4375
4376
4377
4378
4379
4380
4381
4382
4383
4384
4385
4386
4387
4388
4389
4390
4391
4392
4393
4394
4395
4396
4397
4398
4399
4400
4401
4402
4403
4404
4405
4406
4407
4408
4409
4410
4411
4412
4413
4414
4415
4416
4417
4418
4419
4420
4421
4422
4423
4424
4425
4426
4427
4428
4429
4430
4431
4432
4433
4434
4435
4436
4437
4438
4439
4440
4441
4442
4443
4444
4445
4446
4447
4448
4449
4450
4451
4452
4453
4454
4455
4456
4457
4458
4459
4460
4461
4462
4463
4464
4465
4466
4467
4468
4469
4470
4471
4472
4473
4474
4475
4476
4477
4478
4479
4480
4481
4482
4483
4484
4485
4486
4487
4488
4489
4490
4491
4492
4493
4494
4495
4496
4497
4498
4499
4500
4501
4502
4503
4504
4505
4506
4507
4508
4509
4510
4511
4512
4513
4514
4515
4516
4517
4518
4519
4520
4521
4522
4523
4524
4525
4526
4527
4528
4529
4530
4531
4532
4533
4534
4535
4536
4537
4538
4539
4540
4541
4542
4543
4544
4545
4546
4547
4548
4549
4550
4551
4552
4553
4554
4555
4556
4557
4558
4559
4560
4561
4562
4563
4564
4565
4566
4567
4568
4569
4570
4571
4572
4573
4574
4575
4576
4577
4578
4579
4580
4581
4582
4583
4584
4585
4586
4587
4588
4589
4590
4591
4592
4593
4594
4595
4596
4597
4598
4599
4600
4601
4602
4603
4604
4605
4606
4607
4608
4609
4610
4611
4612
4613
4614
4615
4616
4617
4618
4619
4620
4621
4622
4623
4624
4625
4626
4627
4628
4629
4630
4631
4632
4633
4634
4635
4636
4637
4638
4639
4640
4641
4642
4643
4644
4645
4646
4647
4648
4649
4650
4651
4652
4653
4654
4655
4656
4657
4658
4659
4660
4661
4662
4663
4664
4665
4666
4667
4668
4669
4670
4671
4672
4673
4674
4675
4676
4677
4678
4679
4680
4681
4682
4683
4684
4685
4686
4687
4688
4689
4690
4691
4692
4693
4694
4695
4696
4697
4698
4699
4700
4701
4702
4703
4704
4705
4706
4707
4708
4709
4710
4711
4712
4713
4714
4715
4716
4717
4718
4719
4720
4721
4722
4723
4724
4725
4726
4727
4728
4729
4730
4731
4732
4733
4734
4735
4736
4737
4738
4739
4740
4741
4742
4743
4744
4745
4746
4747
4748
4749
4750
4751
4752
4753
4754
4755
4756
4757
4758
4759
4760
4761
4762
4763
4764
4765
4766
4767
4768
4769
4770
4771
4772
4773
4774
4775
4776
4777
4778
4779
4780
4781
4782
4783
4784
4785
4786
4787
4788
4789
4790
4791
4792
4793
4794
4795
4796
4797
4798
4799
4800
4801
4802
4803
4804
4805
4806
4807
4808
4809
4810
4811
4812
4813
4814
4815
4816
4817
4818
4819
4820
4821
4822
4823
4824
4825
4826
4827
4828
4829
4830
4831
4832
4833
4834
4835
4836
4837
4838
4839
4840
4841
4842
4843
4844
4845
4846
4847
4848
4849
4850
4851
4852
4853
4854
4855
4856
4857
4858
4859
4860
4861
4862
4863
4864
4865
4866
4867
4868
4869
4870
4871
4872
4873
4874
4875
4876
4877
4878
4879
4880
4881
4882
4883
4884
4885
4886
4887
4888
4889
4890
4891
4892
4893
4894
4895
4896
4897
4898
4899
4900
4901
4902
4903
4904
4905
4906
4907
4908
4909
4910
4911
4912
4913
4914
4915
4916
4917
4918
4919
4920
4921
4922
4923
4924
4925
4926
4927
4928
4929
4930
4931
4932
4933
4934
4935
4936
4937
4938
4939
4940
4941
4942
4943
4944
4945
4946
4947
4948
4949
4950
4951
4952
4953
4954
4955
4956
4957
4958
4959
4960
4961
4962
4963
4964
4965
4966
4967
4968
4969
4970
4971
4972
4973
4974
4975
4976
4977
4978
4979
4980
4981
4982
4983
4984
4985
4986
4987
4988
4989
4990
4991
4992
4993
4994
4995
4996
4997
4998
4999
5000
5001

<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN">
<html>
<head>
<meta http-equiv="Content-Type"
    content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1">
<meta content="pg2html (binary version 0.11)"
    name="generator">
<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of
    Harriet,
    by Sarah H. Bradford.
</title>
<style type="text/css">
    <!--
    * { font-family:   Times;
      }
    P { text-indent:   1em;
        margin:        10%;
        margin-top:    .75em;
        font-size:     14pt;
        text-align:    justify;
        margin-bottom: .75em; }
    H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; }
    HR  { width: 33%; }
    PRE { font-family: Times;
		      font-size: 14pt;}
    .toc  { margin-left: 15%; font-size: 10pt; margin-bottom: 0em;}
    CENTER { padding: 10px;}
    // -->
</style>
</head>
<body>


<pre>

Project Gutenberg's Harriet, The Moses of Her People, by Sarah H. Bradford

Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the
copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing
this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook.

This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project
Gutenberg file.  Please do not remove it.  Do not change or edit the
header without written permission.

Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the
eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file.  Included is
important information about your specific rights and restrictions in
how the file may be used.  You can also find out about how to make a
donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved.


**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts**

**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971**

*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!*****


Title: Harriet, The Moses of Her People

Author: Sarah H. Bradford

Release Date: February, 2006 [EBook #9999]
[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
[This file was first posted on November 6, 2003]

Edition: 10

Language: English

Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HARRIET, THE MOSES OF HER PEOPLE ***




Produced by Maria Cecilia Lim, David Widger and PG Distributed Proofreaders





</pre>



<h1>
    HARRIET
</h1>
<center>
    THE MOSES OF HER PEOPLE
</center>
<center><b>
    By
</b></center>
<center><b>
    SARAH H. BRADFORD
</b></center>
<center>
<table summary="">
<tr><td>
<pre>
    "Farewell, ole Marster, don't think hard of me,
    I'm going on to Canada, where all de slaves are free."
</pre>
</td></tr>
</table>
</center>
<center>
<table summary="">
<tr><td>
<pre>
    "Jesus, Jesus will go wid you,
      He will lead you to His throne,
    He who died has gone before you,
      Trod de wine-press all alone."
</pre>
</td></tr>
</table>
</center>

<p>&nbsp;</p>
<p>&nbsp;</p>


<h2>
    PREFACE.
</h2>
<p>
    The title I have given my black heroine, in this second edition of
    her story, viz.: THE MOSES OF HER PEOPLE, may seem a little
    ambitious, considering that this Moses was a woman, and that she
    succeeded in piloting only three or four hundred slaves from the
    land of bondage to the land of freedom.
</p>
<p>
    But I only give her here the name by which she was familiarly
    known, both at the North and the South, during the years of terror
    of the Fugitive Slave Law, and during our last Civil War, in both
    of which she took so prominent a part.
</p>
<p>
    And though the results of her unexampled heroism were not to free
    a whole nation of bond-men and bond-women, yet this object was as
    much the desire of her heart, as it was of that of the great
    leader of Israel. Her cry to the slave-holders, was ever like his
    to Pharaoh, "Let my people go!" and not even he imperiled life and
    limb more willingly, than did our courageous and self-sacrificing
    friend.
</p>
<p>
    Her name deserves to be handed down to posterity, side by side
    with the names of Jeanne D'Arc, Grace Darling, and Florence
    Nightingale, for not one of these women, noble and brave as they
    were, has shown more courage, and power of endurance, in facing
    danger and death to relieve human suffering, than this poor black
    woman, whose story I am endeavoring in a most imperfect way to
    give you.
</p>
<p>
    Would that Mrs. Stowe had carried out the plan she once projected,
    of being the historian of our sable friend; by her graphic pen,
    the incidents of such a life might have been wrought up into a
    tale of thrilling interest, equaling, if not exceeding her world
    renowned "Uncle Tom's Cabin."
</p>
<p>
    The work fell to humbler hands, and the first edition of this
    story, under the title of "Harriet Tubman," was written in the
    greatest possible haste, while the writer was preparing for a
    voyage to Europe. There was pressing need for this book, to save
    the poor woman's little home from being sold under a mortgage, and
    letters and facts were penned down rapidly, as they came in. The
    book has now been in part re-written and the letters and
    testimonials placed in an appendix.
</p>
<p>
    For the satisfaction of the incredulous (and there will naturally
    be many such, when so strange a tale is repeated to them), I will
    here state that so far as it has been possible, I have received
    corroboration of every incident related to me by my heroic friend.
    I did this for the satisfaction of others, not for my own. No one
    can hear Harriet talk, and not believe every word she says. As Mr.
    Sanborn says of her, "she is too <i>real</i> a person, not to be true."
</p>
<p>
    Many incidents quite as wonderful as those related in the story, I
    have rejected, because I had no way in finding the persons who
    could speak to their truth.
</p>
<p>
    This woman was the friend of William H. Seward, of Gerritt Smith,
    of Wendell Phillips, of William Lloyd Garrison, and of many other
    distinguished philanthropists before the War, as of very many
    officers of the Union Army during the conflict.
</p>
<p>
    After her almost superhuman efforts in making her own escape from
    slavery, and then returning to the South <i>nineteen times</i>, and
    bringing away with her over three hundred fugitives, she was sent
    by Governor Andrew of Massachusetts to the South at the beginning
    of the War, to act as spy and scout for our armies, and to be
    employed as hospital nurse when needed.
</p>
<p>
    Here for four years she labored without any remuneration, and
    during the time she was acting as nurse, never drew but twenty
    days' rations from our Government. She managed to support herself,
    as well as to take care of the suffering soldiers.
</p>
<p>
    Secretary Seward exerted himself in every possible way to procure
    her a pension from Congress, but red-tape proved too strong even
    for him, and her case was rejected, because it did not come under
    any recognized law.
</p>
<p>
    The first edition of this little story was published through the
    liberality of Gerritt Smith, Wendell Phillips, and prominent men
    in Auburn, and the object for which it was written was
    accomplished. But that book has long been out of print, and the
    facts stated there are all unknown to the present generation.
    There have, I am told, often been calls for the book, which could
    not be answered, and I have been urged by many friends as well as
    by Harriet herself, to prepare another edition. For another
    necessity has arisen and she needs help again not for herself, but
    for certain helpless ones of her people.
</p>
<p>
    Her own sands are nearly run, but she hopes, 'ere she goes home,
    to see this work, a hospital, well under way. Her last breath and
    her last efforts will be spent in the cause of those for whom she
    has already risked so much.
</p>
<center>
<table summary="">
<tr><td>
<pre>
    For them her tears will fall,
      For them her prayers ascend;
    To them her toils and cares be given,
      Till toils and cares shall end.
                                  S.H.B.
</pre>
</td></tr>
</table>
</center>

<br /><br /><br />
<h4>
    Letter from Mr. Oliver Johnson for the second edition:
</h4>
<center>
<table summary="">
<tr><td>
<pre>
                             NEW YORK, <i>March 6</i>, 1886.
</pre>
</td></tr>
</table>
</center>
<center>
    MY DEAR MADAM:
</center>
<p>
    I am very glad to learn that you are about to publish a revised
    edition of your life of that heroic woman, Harriet Tubman, by
    whose assistance so many American slaves were enabled to break
    their bonds.
</p>
<p>
    During the period of my official connection with the Anti-Slavery
    office in New York, I saw her frequently, when she came there with
    the companies of slaves, whom she had successfully piloted away
    from the South; and often listened with wonder to the story of
    her adventures and hair-breadth escapes.
</p>
<p>
    She always told her tale with a modesty which showed how
    unconscious she was of having done anything more than her simple
    duty. No one who listened to her could doubt her perfect
    truthfulness and integrity.
</p>
<p>
    Her shrewdness in planning the escape of slaves, her skill in
    avoiding arrest, her courage in every emergency, and her
    willingness to endure hardship and face any danger for the sake of
    her poor followers was phenomenal.
</p>
<p>
    I regret to hear that she is poor and ill, and hope the sale of
    your book will give her the relief she so much needs and so well
    deserves.
</p>
<center>
<table summary="">
<tr><td>
<pre>
                                  Yours truly,

                                       OLIVER JOHNSON.
</pre>
</td></tr>
</table>
</center>

<br /><br /><br />
<center>
<table summary="">
<tr><td>
<pre>
                                  AUBURN THEOL. SEMINARY,
                                       <i>March</i> 16, 1886.
</pre>
</td></tr>
</table>
</center>
<h3>
    By PROFESSOR HOPKINS
</h3>
<p>
    The remarkable person who is the subject of the following sketch,
    has been residing mostly ever since the close of the war in the
    outskirts of the City of Auburn, during all which time I have been
    well acquainted with her. She has all the characteristics of the
    pure African race strongly marked upon her, though from which one
    of the various tribes that once fed the Barracoons, on the Guinea
    coast, she derived her indomitable courage and her passionate love
    of freedom I know not; perhaps from the Fellatas, in whom those
    traits were predominant.
</p>
<p>
    Harriet lives upon a farm which the twelve hundred dollars given
    her by Mrs. Bradford from the proceeds of the first edition of
    this little book, enabled her to redeem from a mortgage held by
    the late Secretary Seward.
</p>
<p>
    Her household is very likely to consist of several old black
    people, "bad with the rheumatize," some forlorn wandering woman,
    and a couple of small images of God cut in ebony. How she manages
    to feed and clothe herself and them, the Lord best knows. She has
    too much pride and too much faith to beg. She takes thankfully,
    but without any great effusiveness of gratitude, whatever God's
    messengers bring her.
</p>
<p>
    I have never heard that she absolutely lacked. There are some good
    people in various parts of the country, into whose hearts God
    sends the thought, from time to time, that Harriet may be at the
    bottom of the flour sack, or of the potatoes, and the "help in
    time of need" comes to her.
</p>
<p>
    Harriet's simplicity and ignorance have, in some cases, been
    imposed upon, very signally in one instance in Auburn, a few years
    ago; but nobody who knows her has the slightest doubt of her
    perfect integrity.
</p>
<p>
    The following sketch taken by Mrs. Bradford, chiefly from
    Harriet's own recollections, which are wonderfully distinct and
    minute, but also from other corroborative sources, gives but a
    very imperfect account of what this woman has been.
</p>
<p>
    Her color, and the servile condition in which she was born and
    reared, have doomed her to obscurity, but a more heroic soul did
    not breathe in the bosom of Judith or of Jeanne D'Arc.
</p>
<p>
    No fear of the lash, the blood-hound, or the fiery stake, could
    divert her from her self-imposed task of leading as many as
    possible of her people "from the land of Egypt, from the house of
    bondage."
</p>
<p>
    The book is good literature for the black race, or the white race,
    and though no similar conditions may arise, to test the
    possibilities that are in any of them, yet the example of this
    poor slave woman may well stand out before them, and before all
    people, black or white, to show what a lofty and martyr spirit may
    accomplish, struggling against overwhelming obstacles.
</p>
<a name="2H_4_3"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
<h2>
    HARRIET,
</h2>
<center>
    THE MOSES OF HER PEOPLE.
</center>
<a name="2H_4_4"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
<p>&nbsp;</p>

<p>
    On a hot summer's day, perhaps sixty years ago, a group of merry
    little darkies were rolling and tumbling in the sand in front of
    the large house of a Southern planter. Their shining skins gleamed
    in the sun, as they rolled over each other in their play, and
    their voices, as they chattered together, or shouted in glee,
    reached even to the cabins of the negro quarter, where the old
    people groaned in spirit, as they thought of the future of those
    unconscious young revelers; and their cry went up, "O, Lord, how
    long!"
</p>
<p>
    Apart from the rest of the children, on the top rail of a fence,
    holding tight on to the tall gate post, sat a little girl of
    perhaps thirteen years of age; darker than any of the others, and
    with a more decided <i>woolliness</i> in the hair; a pure unmitigated
    African. She was not so entirely in a state of nature as the
    rollers in the dust beneath her; but her only garment was a short
    woolen skirt, which was tied around her waist, and reached about
    to her knees. She seemed a dazed and stupid child, and as her head
    hung upon her breast, she looked up with dull blood-shot eyes
    towards her young brothers and sisters, without seeming to see
    them. Bye and bye the eyes closed, and still clinging to the post,
    she slept. The other children looked up and said to each other,
    "Look at Hatt, she's done gone off agin!" Tired of their present
    play ground they trooped off in another direction, but the girl
    slept on heavily, never losing her hold on the post, or her seat
    on her perch. Behold here, in the stupid little negro girl, the
    future deliverer of hundreds of her people; the spy and scout of
    the Union armies; the devoted hospital nurse; the protector of
    hunted fugitives; the eloquent speaker in public meetings; the
    cunning eluder of pursuing man-hunters; the heaven guided pioneer
    through dangers seen and unseen; in short, as she has well been
    called, "The Moses of her People."
</p>
<p>
    Here in her thirteenth year she is just recovering from the first
    terrible effects of an injury inflicted by her master, who in an
    ungovernable fit of rage threw a heavy weight at the unoffending
    child, breaking in her skull, and causing a pressure upon her
    brain, from which in her old age she is suffering still. This
    pressure it was which caused the fits of somnolency so frequently
    to come upon her, and which gave her the appearance of being
    stupid and half-witted in those early years. But that brain which
    seemed so dull was full of busy thoughts, and her life problem was
    already trying to work itself out there.
</p>
<p>
    She had heard the shrieks and cries of women who were being
    flogged in the negro quarter; she had listened to the groaned out
    prayer, "Oh, Lord, have mercy!" She had already seen two older
    sisters taken away as part of a chain gang, and they had gone no
    one knew whither; she had seen the agonized expression on their
    faces as they turned to take a last look at their "Old Cabin
    Home;" and had watched them from the top of the fence, as they
    went off weeping and lamenting, till they were hidden from her
    sight forever. She saw the hopeless grief of the poor old mother,
    and the silent despair of the aged father, and already she began
    to revolve in her mind the question, "Why should such things be?"
    "Is there no deliverance for my people?"
</p>
<p>
    The sun shone on, and Harriet still slept seated on the fence
    rail. They, those others, had no anxious dreams of the future, and
    even the occasional sufferings of the present time caused them but
    a temporary grief. Plenty to eat, and warm sunshine to bask in,
    were enough to constitute their happiness; Harriet, however, was
    not one of these. God had a great work for her to do in the world,
    and the discipline and hardship through which she passed in her
    early years, were only preparing her for her after life of
    adventure and trial; and through these to come out as the Savior
    and Deliverer of her people, when she came to years of womanhood.
</p>
<p>
    As yet she had seen no "visions," and heard no "voices;" no
    foreshadowing of her life of toil and privation, of flight before
    human blood-hounds, of watchings, and hidings, of perils by land,
    and perils by sea, yea, and of perils by false brethren, or of
    miraculous deliverance had yet come to her. No hint of the great
    mission of her life, to guide her people from the land of bondage
    to the land of freedom. But, "Why should such things be?" and "Is
    there no help?" These were the questions of her waking hours.
</p>
<p>
    The dilapidated state of things about the "Great House" told truly
    the story of waning fortunes, and poverty was pressing upon the
    master. One by one the able-bodied slaves disappeared; some were
    sold, others hired to other masters. No questions were asked; no
    information given; they simply disappeared. A "lady," for so she
    was designated, came driving up to the great house one day, to see
    if she could find there a young girl to take care of a baby. The
    lady wished to pay low wages, and so the most stupid and the most
    incapable of the children on the plantation was chosen to go with
    her. Harriet, who could command less wages than any other child of
    her age on the plantation, was therefore put into the wagon
    without a word of explanation, and driven off to the lady's house.
    It was not a very fine house, but Harriet had never before been in
    any dwelling better than the cabins of the negro quarter.
</p>
<p>
    She was engaged as child's nurse, but she soon found that she was
    expected to be maid of all work by day, as well as child's nurse
    by night. The first task that was set her was that of sweeping and
    dusting a parlor. No information was vouchsafed as to the manner
    of going about this work, but she had often swept out the cabin,
    and this part of her task was successfully accomplished. Then at
    once she took the dusting cloth, and wiped off tables, chairs and
    mantel-piece. The dust, as dust will do, when it has nowhere else
    to go, at once settled again, and chairs and tables were soon
    covered with a white coating, telling a terrible tale against
    Harriet, when her Mistress came in to see how the work progressed.
    Reproaches, and savage words, fell upon the ears of the frightened
    child, and she was commanded to do the work all over again. It was
    done in precisely the same way, as before, with the same result.
    Then the whip was brought into requisition, and it was laid on
    with no light hand. Five times before breakfast this process was
    repeated, when a new actor appeared upon the scene. Miss Emily, a
    sister of the Mistress, had been roused from her morning slumber
    by the sound of the whip, and the screams of the child; and being
    of a less imperious nature than her sister, she had come in to try
    to set matters right.
</p>
<p>
    "Why do you whip the child, Susan, for not doing what she has
    never been taught to do? Leave her to me a few minutes, and you
    will see that she will soon learn how to sweep and dust a room."
    Then Miss Emily instructed the child to open the windows, and
    sweep, then to leave the room, and set the table, while the dust
    settled; and after that to return and wipe it off. There was no
    more trouble of that kind. A few words might have set the matter
    right before; but in those days many a poor slave suffered for the
    stupidity and obstinacy of a master or mistress, more stupid than
    themselves.
</p>
<p>
    When the labors, unremitted for a moment, of the long day were
    over (for this mistress was an economical woman, and intended to
    get the worth of her money to the uttermost farthing), there was
    still no rest for the weary child, for there was a cross baby to
    be rocked continuously, lest it should wake and disturb the
    mother's rest. The black child sat beside the cradle of the white
    child, so near the bed, that the lash of the whip would reach her
    if she ventured for a moment to forget her fatigues and sufferings
    in sleep. The Mistress reposed upon her bed with the whip on a
    little shelf over her head. People of color are, unfortunately, so
    constituted that even if the pressure of a broken skull does not
    cause a sleep like the sleep of the dead, the need of rest, and
    the refreshment of slumber after a day of toil, were often felt by
    them. No doubt, this was a great wrong to their masters, and a
    cheating them of time which belonged to them, but their slaves did
    not always look upon it in that light, and tired nature would
    demand her rights; and so nature and the Mistress had a fight for
    it.
</p>
<p>
    Rock, rock, went the cradle, and mother and child slept; but alas!
    the little black hand would sometimes slip down, and the head
    would droop, and a dream of home and mother would visit the weary
    one, only to be roughly dispelled by the swift descent of the
    stinging lash, for the baby had cried out and the mother had been
    awakened. This is no fictitious tale. That poor neck is even now
    covered with the scars which sixty years of life have not been
    able to efface. It may be that she was thus being prepared by the
    long habit of enforced wakefulness, for the night watches in the
    woods, and in dens and caves of the earth, when the pursuers were
    on her track, and the terrified ones were trembling in her shadow.
    We do not thank <i>you</i> for this, cruel woman! for if you did her a
    service, you did it ignorantly, and only for your own gratification.
    But Harriet's powers of endurance failed at last, and she was
    returned to her master, a poor, scarred wreck, nothing but skin and
    bone, with the words that "She wasn't worth a sixpence."
</p>
<p>
    The poor old mother nursed her back to life, and her naturally
    good constitution asserted itself, so that as she grew older she
    began to show signs of the wonderful strength which in after
    years, when the fugitive slave law was in operation in New York
    State, enabled her to seize a man from the officers who had him in
    charge, and while numbers were pursuing her, and the shot was
    flying like hail about her head, to bear him in her own strong
    arms beyond the reach of danger.
</p>
<p>
    As soon as she was strong enough for work, Harriet was hired out
    to a man whose tyranny was worse, if possible, than that of the
    woman she had left. Now it was out of door drudgery which was put
    upon her. The labor of the horse and the ox, the lifting of
    barrels of flour and other heavy weights were given to her; and
    powerful men often stood astonished to see this woman perform
    feats of strength from which they shrunk incapable. This cruelty
    she looks upon as a blessing in disguise (a very questionable
    shape the blessing took, methinks), for by it she was prepared for
    after needs.
</p>
<p>
    Still the pressure upon the brain continued, and with the weight
    half lifted, she would drop off into a state of insensibility,
    from which even the lash in the hand of a strong man could not
    rouse her. But if they had only known it, the touch of a gentle
    hand upon her shoulder, and her name spoken in tones of kindness,
    would have accomplished what cruelty failed to do.
</p>
<p>
    The day's work must be accomplished, whether the head was racked
    with pain, and the frame was consumed by fever, or not; but the
    day came at length when poor Harriet could work no more. The sting
    of the lash had no power to rouse her now, and the new master
    finding her a dead weight on his hands, returned the useless piece
    of property to him who was called her "owner." And while she lay
    there helpless, this man was bringing other men to look at her,
    and offering her for sale at the lowest possible price; at the
    same time setting forth her capabilities, if once she were strong
    and well again.
</p>
<p>
    Harriet's religious character I have not yet touched upon. Brought
    up by parents possessed of strong faith in God, she had never
    known the time, I imagine, when she did not trust Him, and cling
    to Him, with an all-abiding confidence. She seemed ever to feel
    the Divine Presence near, and she talked with God "as a man
    talketh with his friend." Hers was not the religion of a morning
    and evening prayer at stated times, but when she felt a need, she
    simply told God of it, and trusted Him to set the matter right.
</p>
<p>
    "And so," she said to me, "as I lay so sick on my bed, from
    Christmas till March, I was always praying for poor ole master.
    'Pears like I didn't do nothing but pray for ole master. 'Oh,
    Lord, convert ole master;' 'Oh, dear Lord, change dat man's heart,
    and make him a Christian.' And all the time he was bringing men to
    look at me, and dey stood there saying what dey would give, and
    what dey would take, and all I could say was, 'Oh, Lord, convert
    ole master.' Den I heard dat as soon as I was able to move I was
    to be sent with my brudders, in the chain-gang to de far South.
    Then I changed my prayer, and I said, 'Lord, if you ain't never
    going to change dat man's heart, <i>kill him</i>, Lord, and take him
    out of de way, so he won't do no more mischief.' Next ting I heard
    ole master was dead; and he died just as he had lived, a wicked,
    bad man. Oh, den it 'peared like I would give de world full of
    silver and gold, if I had it, to bring dat pore soul back, I would
    give <i>myself</i>; I would give eberyting! But he was gone, I couldn't
    pray for him no more."
</p>
<p>
    As she recovered from this long illness, a deeper religious spirit
    seemed to take possession of her than she had ever experienced
    before. She literally "prayed without ceasing." "'Pears like, I
    prayed all de time," she said, "about my work, eberywhere; I was
    always talking to de Lord. When I went to the horse-trough to wash
    my face, and took up de water in my hands, I said, 'Oh, Lord, wash
    me, make me clean.' When I took up de towel to wipe my face and
    hands, I cried, 'Oh, Lord, for Jesus' sake, wipe away all my
    sins!' When I took up de broom and began to sweep, I groaned, 'Oh,
    Lord, whatsoebber sin dere be in my heart, sweep it out, Lord,
    clar and clean;' but I can't pray no more for pore ole master." No
    words can describe the pathos of her tones as she broke into these
    words of earnest supplication.
</p>
<p>
    What was to become of the slaves on this plantation now that the
    master was dead? Were they all to be scattered and sent to
    different parts of the country? Harriet had many brothers and
    sisters, all of whom with the exception of the two, who had gone
    South with the chain-gang, were living on this plantation, or were
    hired out to planters not far away. The word passed through the
    cabins that another owner was coming in, and that none of the
    slaves were to be sold out of the State. This assurance satisfied
    the others, but it did not satisfy Harriet. Already the inward
    monitor was whispering to her, "Arise, flee for your life!" and in
    the visions of the night she saw the horsemen coming, and heard
    the shrieks of women and children, as they were being torn from
    each other, and hurried off no one knew whither.
</p>
<p>
    And beckoning hands were ever motioning her to come, and she
    seemed to see a line dividing the land of slavery from the land of
    freedom, and on the other side of that line she saw lovely white
    ladies waiting to welcome her, and to care for her. Already in her
    mind her people were the Israelites in the land of Egypt, while
    far away to the north <i>somewhere</i>, was the land of Canaan; but had
    she as yet any prevision that <i>she</i> was to be the Moses who was to
    be their leader, through clouds of darkness and fear, and fires of
    tribulation to that promised land? This she never said.
</p>
<p>
    One day there were scared faces seen in the negro quarter, and
    hurried whispers passed from one to another. No one knew how it
    had come out, but some one had heard that Harriet and two of her
    brothers were very soon, perhaps to-day, perhaps to-morrow, to be
    sent far South with a gang, bought up for plantation work. Harriet
    was about twenty or twenty-five years old at this time, and the
    constantly recurring idea of escape at <i>sometime</i>, took sudden
    form that day, and with her usual promptitude of action she was
    ready to start at once.
</p>
<p>
    She held a hurried consultation with her brothers, in which she so
    wrought upon their fears, that they expressed themselves as
    willing to start with her that very night, for that far North,
    where, could they reach it in safety, freedom awaited them. But
    she must first give some intimation of her purpose to the friends
    she was to leave behind, so that even if not understood at the
    time, it might be remembered afterward as her intended farewell.
    Slaves must not be seen talking together, and so it came about
    that their communication was often made by singing, and the words
    of their familiar hymns, telling of the heavenly journey, and the
    land of Canaan, while they did not attract the attention of the
    masters, conveyed to their brethren and sisters in bondage
    something more than met the ear. And so she sang, accompanying the
    words, when for a moment unwatched, with a meaning look to one and
    another:
</p>
<center>
<table summary="">
<tr><td>
<pre>
    "When dat ar ole chariot comes,
      I'm gwine to lebe you,
    I'm boun' for de promised land,
      Frien's, I'm gwine to lebe you."
</pre>
</td></tr>
</table>
</center>
<p>
    Again, as she passed the doors of the different cabins, she lifted
    up her well-known voice; and many a dusky face appeared at door or
    window, with a wondering or scared expression; and thus she
    continued:
</p>
<center>
<table summary="">
<tr><td>
<pre>
    "I'm sorry, frien's, to lebe you,
      Farewell! oh, farewell!
    But I'll meet you in de mornin',
      Farewell! oh, farewell!

    "I'll meet you in de mornin',
      When you reach de promised land;
    On de oder side of Jordan,
      For I'm boun' for de promised land."
</pre>
</td></tr>
</table>
</center>
<p>
    The brothers started with her, but the way was strange, the north
    was far away, and all unknown, the masters would pursue and
    recapture them, and their fate would be worse than ever before;
    and so they broke away from her, and bidding her goodbye, they
    hastened back to the known horrors of slavery, and the dread of
    that which was worse.
</p>
<p>
    Harriet was now left alone, but after watching the retreating
    forms of her brothers, she turned her face toward the north, and
    fixing her eyes on the guiding star, and committing her way unto
    the Lord, she started again upon her long, lonely journey. Her
    farewell song was long remembered in the cabins, and the old
    mother sat and wept for her lost child. No intimation had been
    given her of Harriet's intention, for the old woman was of a most
    impulsive disposition, and her cries and lamentations would have
    made known to all within hearing Harriet's intended escape. And
    so, with only the North Star for her guide, our heroine started on
    the way to liberty, "For," said she, "I had reasoned dis out in my
    mind; there was one of two things I had a <i>right</i> to, liberty, or
    death; if I could not have one, I would have de oder; for no man
    should take me alive; I should fight for my liberty as long as my
    strength lasted, and when de time came for me to go, de Lord would
    let dem take me."
</p>
<p>
    And so without money, and without friends, she started on through
    unknown regions; walking by night, hiding by day, but always
    conscious of an invisible pillar of cloud by day, and of fire by
    night, under the guidance of which she journeyed or rested.
    Without knowing whom to trust, or how near the pursuers might be,
    she carefully felt her way, and by her native cunning, or by God
    given wisdom, she managed to apply to the right people for food,
    and sometimes for shelter; though often her bed was only the cold
    ground, and her watchers the stars of night.
</p>
<p>
    After many long and weary days of travel, she found that she had
    passed the magic line, which then divided the land of bondage from
    the land of freedom. But where were the lovely white ladies whom
    in her visions she had seen, who, with arms outstretched, welcomed
    her to their hearts and homes. All these visions proved deceitful:
    she was more alone than ever; but she had crossed the line; no one
    could take her now, and she would never call any man "Master"
    more.
</p>
<p>
    "I looked at my hands," she said, "to see if I was de same person
    now I was free. Dere was such a glory ober eberything, de sun came
    like gold trou de trees, and ober de fields, and I felt like I was
    in heaven." But then came the bitter drop in the cup of joy. She
    was alone, and her kindred were in slavery, and not one of them
    had the courage to dare what she had dared. Unless she made the
    effort to liberate them she would never see them more, or even
    know their fate.
</p>
<p>
    "I knew of a man," she said, "who was sent to the State Prison for
    twenty-five years. All these years he was always thinking of his
    home, and counting by years, months, and days, the time till he
    should be free, and see his family and friends once more. The
    years roll on, the time of imprisonment is over, the man is free.
    He leaves the prison gates, he makes his way to his old home, but
    his old home is not there. The house in which he had dwelt in his
    childhood had been torn down, and a new one had been put up in its
    place; his family were gone, their very name was forgotten, there
    was no one to take him by the hand to welcome him back to life."
</p>
<p>
    "So it was wid me," said Harriet, "I had crossed de line of which
    I had so long been dreaming. I was free; but dere was no one to
    welcome me to de land of freedom, I was a stranger in a strange
    land, and my home after all was down in de old cabin quarter, wid
    de ole folks, and my brudders and sisters. But to dis solemn
    resolution I came; I was free, and dey should be free also; I
    would make a home for dem in de North, and de Lord helping me, I
    would bring dem all dere. Oh, how I prayed den, lying all alone on
    de cold, damp ground; 'Oh, dear Lord,' I said, 'I haint got no
    friend but <i>you</i>. Come to my help, Lord, for I'm in trouble!'"
</p>
<p>
    It would be impossible here to give a detailed account of the
    journeys and labors of this intrepid woman for the redemption of
    her kindred and friends, during the years that followed. Those
    years were spent in work, almost by night and day, with the one
    object of the rescue of her people from slavery. All her wages
    were laid away with this sole purpose, and as soon as a sufficient
    amount was secured, she disappeared from her Northern home, and as
    suddenly and mysteriously she appeared some dark night at the door
    of one of the cabins on a plantation, where a trembling band of
    fugitives, forewarned as to time and place, were anxiously
    awaiting their deliverer. Then she piloted them North, traveling
    by night, hiding by day, scaling the mountains, fording the
    rivers, threading the forests, lying concealed as the pursuers
    passed them. She, carrying the babies, drugged with paregoric, in
    a basket on her arm. So she went <i>nineteen</i> times, and so she
    brought away over three hundred pieces of living and breathing
    "property," with God given souls.
</p>
<p>
    The way was so toilsome over the rugged mountain passes, that
    often the <i>men</i> who followed her would give out, and foot-sore,
    and bleeding, they would drop on the ground, groaning that they
    could not take another step. They would lie there and die, or if
    strength came back, they would return on their steps, and seek
    their old homes again. Then the revolver carried by this bold and
    daring pioneer, would come out, while pointing it at their heads
    she would say, "Dead niggers tell no tales; you go on or die!" And
    by this heroic treatment she compelled them to drag their weary
    limbs along on their northward journey.
</p>
<p>
    But the pursuers were after them. A reward of $40,000 was offered
    by the slave-holders of the region from whence so many slaves had
    been spirited away, for the head of the woman who appeared so
    mysteriously, and enticed away their property, from under the very
    eyes of its owners. Our sagacious heroine has been in the car,
    having sent her frightened party round by some so-called
    "Under-ground Railway," and has heard this advertisement, which was
    posted over her head, read by others of the passengers. She never
    could read or write herself, but knowing that suspicion would be
    likely to fall upon any black woman traveling North, she would
    turn at the next station, and journey towards the South. Who would
    suspect a fugitive with such a price set upon her head, of rushing
    at railway speed into the jaws of destruction? With a daring
    almost heedless, she went even to the very village where she would
    be most likely to meet one of the masters to whom she had been
    hired; and having stopped at the Market and bought a pair of live
    fowls, she went along the street with her sun-bonnet well over her
    face, and with the bent and decrepit air of an aged, woman.
    Suddenly on turning a corner, she spied her old master coming
    towards her. She pulled the string which tied the legs of the
    chickens; they began to flutter and scream, and as her master
    passed, she was stooping and busily engaged in attending to the
    fluttering fowls. And he went on his way, little thinking that he
    was brushing the very garments of the woman who had dared to steal
    herself, and others of his belongings.
</p>
<p>
    At one time the pursuit was very close and vigorous. The woods
    were scoured in all directions, every house was visited, and every
    person stopped and questioned as to a band of black fugitives,
    known to be fleeing through that part of the country. Harriet had
    a large party with her then; the children were sleeping the sound
    sleep that opium gives; but all the others were on the alert, each
    one hidden behind his own tree, and silent as death. They had been
    long without food, and were nearly famished; and as the pursuers
    seemed to have passed on, Harriet decided to make the attempt to
    reach a certain "station of the underground railroad" well known
    to her; and procure food for her starving party. Under cover of
    the darkness, she started, leaving a cowering and trembling group
    in the woods, to whom a fluttering leaf, or a moving animal, were
    a sound of dread, bringing their hearts into their throats. How
    long she is away! has she been caught and carried off, and if so
    what is to become of them? Hark! there is a sound of singing in
    the distance, coming nearer and nearer.
</p>
<p>
    And these are the words of the unseen singer, which I wish I could
    give you as I have so often heard them sung by herself:
</p>
<center>
<table summary="">
<tr><td>
<pre>
    Hail, oh hail, ye happy spirits,
      Death no more shall make you fear,
    Grief nor sorrow, pain nor anguish,
      Shall no more distress you dere.

    Around Him are ten thousand angels
      Always ready to obey command;
    Dey are always hovering round you,
      Till you reach de heavenly land.

    Jesus, Jesus will go wid you,
      He will lead you to his throne;
    He who died, has gone before you,
      Trod de wine-press all alone.

    He whose thunders shake creation,
      He who bids de planets roll;
    He who rides upon the tempest,
      And whose scepter sways de whole.

    Dark and thorny is de pathway,
      Where de pilgrim makes his ways;
    But beyond dis vale of sorrow,
      Lie de fields of endless days.
</pre>
</td></tr>
</table>
</center>
<p>
    The air sung to these words was so wild, so full of plaintive
    minor strains, and unexpected quavers, that I would defy any white
    person to learn it, and often as I heard it, it was to me a
    constant surprise. Up and down the road she passes to see if the
    coast is clear, and then to make them certain that it is <i>their</i>
    leader who is coming, she breaks out into the plaintive strains of
    the song, forbidden to her people at the South, but which she and
    her followers delight to sing together:
</p>
<center>
<table summary="">
<tr><td>
<pre>
    Oh go down, Moses,
      Way down into Egypt's land,
    Tell old Pharaoh,
      Let my people go.

    Oh Pharaoh said he would go cross,
      Let my people go,
    And don't get lost in de wilderness,
      Let my people go.

    Oh go down, Moses,
      Way down into Egypt's land,
    Tell old Pharaoh,
      Let my people go.

    You may hinder me here, but you can't up dere,
      Let my people go,
    He sits in de Hebben and answers prayer,
      Let my people go!

    Oh go down, Moses,
      Way down into Egypt's land,
    Tell old Pharaoh,
      Let my people go.
</pre>
</td></tr>
</table>
</center>
<p>
    And then she enters the recesses of the wood, carrying hope and
    comfort to the anxious watchers there. One by one they steal out
    from their hiding places, and are fed and strengthened for another
    night's journey.
</p>
<p>
    And so by night travel, by signals, by threatenings, by
    encouragement, through watchings and fastings, and I may say by
    direct interpositions of Providence, and miraculous deliverances,
    she brought her people to what was then their land of Canaan; the
    State of New York. But alas! this State did not continue to be
    their refuge. For in 1850, I think, the Fugitive Slave Law was put
    in force, which bound the people north of Mason and Dixon's line,
    to return to bondage any fugitive found in their territories.
</p>
<p>
    "After that," said Harriet, "I wouldn't trust Uncle Sam wid my
    people no longer, but I brought 'em all clar off to Canada."
</p>
<p>
    On her seventh or eighth journey, she brought with her a band of
    fugitives, among whom was a very remarkable man, whom I knew only
    by the name of "Joe." Joe was a noble specimen of a negro,
    enormously tall, and of splendid muscular development. He had been
    hired out by his master to another planter, for whom he had worked
    for six years, saving him all the expense of an overseer, and
    taking all trouble off from his hands. He was such a very valuable
    piece of property, and had become so absolutely necessary to the
    planter to whom he was hired, that he determined to buy him at any
    cost. His old master held him proportionately high. But by paying
    one thousand dollars down, and promising to pay another thousand
    in a certain time, the purchase was made, and this chattel passed
    over into the hands of a new owner.
</p>
<p>
    The morning after the purchase was completed, the new master came
    riding down on a tall, powerful horse into the negro quarter, with
    a strong new rawhide in his hand, and stopping before Joe's cabin,
    called to him to come out. Joe was just eating his breakfast, but
    with ready obedience, he hastened out at the summons. Slave as he
    was, and accustomed to scenes of brutality, he was surprised when
    the order came, "Now, Joe, strip, and take a licking." Naturally
    enough, he demurred at first, and thought of resisting the order;
    but he called to mind a scene he had witnessed a few days before
    in the field, the particulars of which are too horrible to be
    given here, and he thought it the wisest course to submit; but
    first he tried a gentle remonstrance.
</p>
<p>
    "Mas'r," said he, "habn't I always been faithful to you? Habn't I
    worked through sun an' rain, early in de mornin' an' late at
    night; habn't I saved you an oberseer by doin' his work? hab you
    anything to complain agin me?"
</p>
<p>
    "No, Joe, I have no complaint to make of you. You're a good
    nigger, an' you've always worked well. But you belong to <i>me</i> now;
    you're <i>my</i> nigger, and the first lesson my niggers have to learn
    is that I am master and they belong to me, and are never to resist
    anything I order them to do. So I always begin by giving them a
    good licking. Now strip and take it."
</p>
<p>
    Joe saw that there was no help for him, and that for the time he
    must submit. He stripped off his clothing, and took his flogging
    without a word, but as he drew his shirt up over his torn and
    bleeding back, he said to himself: "Dis is de first an' de last."
    As soon as he was able he took a boat, and under cover of the
    night, rowed down the river, and made his way to the cabin of "Old
    Ben," Harriet's father, and said to him: "Nex' time <i>Moses</i> comes,
    let me know."
</p>
<p>
    It was not long after this time, that the mysterious woman
    appeared&mdash;the woman on whom no one could lay his finger&mdash;and men,
    women, and children began to disappear from the plantations. One
    fine morning Joe was missing, and call as loud as he might, the
    master's voice had no power to bring him forth. Joe had certainly
    fled; and his brother William was gone, and Peter and Eliza. From
    other plantations other slaves were missing, and before their
    masters were awake to the fact, the party of fugitives, following
    their intrepid leader, were far on their way towards liberty.
</p>
<p>
    The adventures of this escaping party would of themselves fill a
    volume. They hid in potato holes by day, while their pursuers
    passed within a few feet of them; they were passed along by
    friends in various disguises; they scattered and separated; some
    traveling by boat, some by wagons, some by cars, others on foot,
    to meet at some specified station of the under-ground railroad.
    They met at the house of Sam Green,[A] the man who was afterwards
    sent to prison for ten years for having a copy of "Uncle Tom's
    Cabin" in his house. And so, hunted and hiding and wandering, they
    found themselves at last at the entrance of the long bridge which
    crosses the river at Wilmington, Delaware.
</p>
<a name="note-A"><!--Note--></a>
<p class="foot">
<sup><u>A</u></sup>    [ In mentioning to me the circumstances of Sam Green's
    imprisonment, Harriet, who had no acquaintance with books, merely
    mentioned the fact as it had come to her own knowledge. But I have
    lately come across a book in the Astor Library which confirms the
    story precisely as she stated it. It is in a book by Rev. John
    Dixon Long, of Philadelphia. He says, "Samuel Green, a free
    colored man of Dorchester County, Maryland, was sentenced to ten
    years' confinement in the Maryland State Prison, at the spring
    term of the County Court held in Cambridge, Md.
</p>
<p>
    "What was the crime imputed to this man, born on American soil, a
    man of good moral character, a local preacher in the Methodist
    Episcopal Church; a husband and a father? Simply this: A copy of
    'Uncle Tom's Cabin' <i>had been found in his possession</i>. It was not
    proved that he had ever read it to the colored people."]
</p>
<p>
    No time had been lost in posting up advertisements and offering
    rewards for the capture of these fugitives; for Joe in particular
    the reward offered was very high. First a thousand dollars, then
    fifteen hundred, and then two thousand, "an' all expenses clar an'
    clean for his body in Easton Jail." This high reward stimulated
    the efforts of the officers who were usually on the lookout for
    escaping fugitives, and the added rewards for others of the party,
    and the high price set on Harriet's head, filled the woods and
    highways with eager hunters after human prey. When Harriet and her
    companions approached the long Wilmington Bridge, a warning was
    given them by some secret friend, that the advertisements were up,
    and the bridge was guarded by police officers. Quick as lightning
    the plans were formed in her ready brain, and the terrified party
    were separated and hidden in the houses of different friends, till
    her arrangements for their further journey were completed.
</p>
<p>
    There was at that time residing in Wilmington an old Quaker, whom
    I may call <i>my</i> "friend," for though I never saw his face, I have
    had correspondence with him in reference to Harriet and her
    followers. This man, whose name was Thomas Garrett, and who was
    well known in those days to the friends of the slave, was a man of
    a wonderfully large and generous heart, through whose hands during
    those days of distress and horror, no less than three thousand
    self-emancipated men, women and children passed on their way to
    freedom. He gave heart, hand, and means to aid these poor
    fugitives, and to our brave Harriet he often rendered most
    efficient help in her journeys back and forth.
</p>
<p>
    He was the proprietor of a very large shoe establishment; and not
    one of these poor travelers aver left his house without a present
    of a new pair of shoes and other needed help. No sooner had this
    good man received intelligence of the condition of these poor
    creatures, than he devised a plan to elude the vigilance of the
    officers in pursuit, and bring Harriet and her party across the
    bridge. Two wagons filled with bricklayers were engaged, and sent
    over; this was a common sight there, and caused no remark. They
    went across the bridge singing and shouting, and it was not an
    unexpected thing that they should return as they went. After
    nightfall (and, fortunately, the night was very dark) the same
    wagons recrossed the bridge, but with an unlooked-for addition to
    their party. The fugitives were lying close together on the bottom
    of the wagons; the bricklayers were on the seats, still singing
    and shouting; and so they passed the guards, who were all
    unsuspicious of the nature of the load contained in the wagons, or
    of the amount of property thus escaping their hands.
</p>
<p>
    The good man, Thomas Garrett, who was in a very feeble state of
    health when he last wrote me, and has now gone to his reward,
    supplied them with all needed comforts, and sent them on their way
    refreshed, and with renewed courage. And Harriet here set up her
    Ebenezer, saying, "Thus far hath the Lord helped me!" But many a
    danger, and many a fright, and many a deliverance awaited them,
    before they reached the city of New York. And even there they were
    not safe, for the Fugitive Slave Law was in operation, and their
    only refuge was Canada, which was now their promised land.
</p>
<p>
    They finally reached New York in safety: and this goes almost
    without saying, for I may as well mention here that of the three
    hundred and more fugitives whom Harriet piloted from slavery, not
    one was ever recaptured, though all the cunning and skill of white
    men, backed by offered rewards of large sums of money, were
    brought into requisition for their recovery.
</p>
<p>
    As they entered the anti-slavery office in New York, Mr. Oliver
    Johnson rose up and exclaimed, "Well, Joe, I am glad to see the
    man who is worth $2,000 to his master." At this Joe's heart sank.
    "Oh, Mas'r, how did you know me!" he panted. "Here is the
    advertisement in our office," said Mr. Johnson, "and the
    description is so close that no one could mistake it." And had he
    come through all these perils, had he traveled by day and night,
    and suffered cold and hunger, and lived in constant fear and
    dread, to find that far off here in New York State, he was
    recognized at once by the advertisement? How, then, was he ever to
    reach Canada?
</p>
<p>
    "And how far off is Canada?" he asked. He was shown the map of New
    York State, and the track of the railroad, for more than three
    hundred miles to Niagara, where he would cross the river, and be
    free. But the way seemed long and full of dangers. They were
    surely safer on their own tired feet, where they might hide in
    forests and ditches, and take refuge in the friendly underground
    stations; but here, where this large party would be together in
    the cars, surely suspicion would fall upon them, and they would be
    seized and carried back. But Harriet encouraged him in her cheery
    way. He must not give up now. "De Lord had been with them in six
    troubles, and he would not desert them in de seventh." And there
    was nothing to do but to go on. As Moses spoke to the children of
    Israel, when compassed before and behind by dangers, so she spake
    to her people, that they should "go forward."
</p>
<p>
    Up to this time, as they traveled they had talked and sung hymns
    together, like Pilgrim and his friends, and Joe's voice was the
    loudest and sweetest among them; but now he hanged his harp upon
    the willows, and could sing the Lord's songs no more.
</p>
<p>
    "From dat time," in Harriet's language, "Joe was silent; he talked
    no more; he sang no more; he sat wid his head on his hand, an'
    nobody could 'rouse him, nor make him take any intrust in
    anything."
</p>
<p>
    They passed along in safety through New York State, and at length
    found themselves approaching the Suspension Bridge. They could see
    the promised land on the other side. The uninviting plains of
    Canada seemed to them,
</p>
<center>
<table summary="">
<tr><td>
<pre>
    "Sweet fields beyond the swelling flood,
    All dressed in living green;"
</pre>
</td></tr>
</table>
</center>
<p>
    but they were not safe yet. Until they reached the center of the
    bridge, they were still in the power of their pursuers, who might
    at any pause enter the car, and armed with the power of the law,
    drag them back to slavery. The rest of the party were happy and
    excited; they were simple, ignorant creatures, and having implicit
    trust in their leader, they felt safe when with her, and no
    immediate danger threatened them. But Joe was of a different
    mould. He sat silent and sad, always thinking of the horrors that
    awaited him if recaptured. As it happened, all the other
    passengers were people who sympathized with them, understanding
    them to be a band of fugitives, and they listened with tears, as
    Harriet and all except poor Joe lifted up their voices and sang:
</p>
<center>
<table summary="">
<tr><td>
<pre>
    I'm on the way to Canada,
      That cold and dreary land,
    De sad effects of slavery,
      I can't no longer stand;
    I've served my Master all my days,
       Widout a dime reward,
    And now I'm forced to run away,
       To flee de lash, abroad;
Farewell, ole Master, don't think hard of me,
I'm traveling on to Canada, where all de slaves are free.

    De hounds are baying on my track,
      Ole Master comes behind,
    Resolved that he will bring me back,
      Before I cross the line;
    I'm now embarked for yonder shore,
      Where a man's <i>a man</i> by law,
    De iron horse will bear me o'er,
      To "shake de lion's paw;"
Oh, righteous Father, wilt thou not pity me.
And help me on to Canada, where all de slaves are free.

    Oh I heard Queen Victoria say,
      That if we would forsake,
    Our native land of slavery,
      And come across de lake;
    Dat she was standing on de shore,
      Wid arms extended wide,
    To give us all a peaceful home,
      Beyond de rolling tide;
Farewell, ole Master, don't think hard of me,
I'm traveling on to Canada, where all de slaves are free.
</pre>
</td></tr>
</table>
</center>
<p>
    No doubt the simple creatures with her expected to cross a wide
    lake instead of a rapid river, and to see Queen Victoria with her
    crown upon her head, waiting with arms extended wide, to fold them
    all in her embrace. There was now but "one wide river to cross,"
    and the cars rolled on to the bridge. In the distance was heard
    the roar of the mighty cataract, and now as they neared the center
    of the bridge, the falls might be clearly seen. Harriet was
    anxious to have her companions see this wonderful sight, and
    succeeded in bringing all to the windows, except Joe. But Joe
    still sat with his head on his hands, and not even the wonders of
    Niagara could draw him from his melancholy musings. At length as
    Harriet knew by the rise of the center of the bridge, and the
    descent immediately after, the line of danger was passed; she
    sprang across to Joe's side of the car, and shook him almost out
    of his seat, as she shouted, "Joe! you've shook de lion's paw!"
    This was her phrase for having entered on the dominions of
    England. But Joe did not understand this figurative expression.
    Then she shook him again, and put it more plainly, "Joe, you're in
    Queen Victoria's dominions! You're a free man!"
</p>
<p>
    Then Joe arose. His head went up, he raised his hands on high, and
    his eyes, streaming with tears, to heaven, and then he began to
    sing and shout:
</p>
<center>
<table summary="">
<tr><td>
<pre>
    "Glory to God and Jesus too,
      One more soul got safe;
    Oh, go and carry the news,
      One more soul got safe."
</pre>
</td></tr>
</table>
</center>
<p>
    "Joe, come and look at the falls!"
</p>
<center>
<table summary="">
<tr><td>
<pre>
    "Glory to God and Jesus too,
    One more soul got safe."
</pre>
</td></tr>
</table>
</center>
<p>
    "Joe! it's your last chance. Come and see de falls!"
</p>
<center>
<table summary="">
<tr><td>
<pre>
    "Glory to God and Jesus too,
    One more soul got safe."
</pre>
</td></tr>
</table>
</center>
<p>
    And this was all the answer. The train stopped on the other side;
    and the first feet to touch British soil, after those of the
    conductor, were those of poor Joe.
</p>
<p>
    Loud roared the waters of Niagara, but louder still ascended the
    Anthem of praise from the overflowing heart of the freeman. And
    can we doubt that the strain was taken up by angel voices and
    echoed and re-echoed through the vaults of heaven:
</p>
<center>
<table summary="">
<tr><td>
<pre>
    Glory to God in the highest,
      Glory to God and Jesus too,
    For all these souls now safe.
</pre>
</td></tr>
</table>
</center>
<p>
    "The white ladies and gentlemen gathered round him," said Harriet,
    "till I couldn't see Joe for the crowd, only I heard his voice
    singing, 'Glory to God and Jesus too,' louder than ever." A sweet
    young lady reached over her fine cambric handkerchief to him, and
    as Joe wiped the great tears off his face, he said, "Tank de Lord!
    dere's only one more journey for me now, and dat's to Hebben!" As
    we bid farewell to Joe here, I may as well say that Harriet saw
    him several times after that, a happy and industrious freeman in
    Canada.[B]
</p>
<a name="note-B"><!--Note--></a>
<p class="foot">
<sup><u>B</u></sup>    [ In my recent interview with Mr. Oliver Johnson he
    told me of an interesting incident in the life of the good man,
    Thomas Garrett.
</p>
<p>
    He was tried twice for assisting in the escape of fugitive slaves,
    and was fined so heavily that everything he possessed was taken
    from him and sold to pay the fine. At the age of sixty he was left
    without a penny, but he went bravely to work, and in some measure
    regained his fortune; all the time aiding, in every way possible,
    all stray fugitives who applied to him for help.
</p>
<p>
    Again he was arrested, tried, and heavily fined, and as the Judge
    of the United States Court pronounced the sentence, he said, in a
    solemn manner: "Garrett, let this be a lesson to you, not to
    interfere hereafter with the cause of justice, by helping off
    runaway negroes.
</p>
<p>
    The old man, who had stood to receive his sentence, here raised
    his head, and fixing his eyes on "the Court," he said:
</p>
<p>
    "Judge&mdash;thee hasn't left me a dollar, but I wish to say to thee,
    and to all in this court room, that if anyone knows of a fugitive
    who wants a shelter, and a friend, <i>send him to Thomas Garrett</i>,
    and he will befriend him!"
</p>
<p>
    [Not Luther before the Council at Worms was grander than this brave
    old man in his unswerving adherence to principle. In those days
    that tried men's souls there were many men like this old Quaker,
    and many women too, who would have gone cheerfully to the fire and
    the stake, for the cause of suffering humanity; men and women
    <i>these</i> "of whom the world was not worthy."]
</p>
<p>
    On one of her journeys to the North, as she was piloting a company
    of refugees, Harriet came, just as morning broke, to a town, where
    a colored man had lived whose house had been one of her stations
    of the under-ground, or unseen railroad. They reached the house,
    and leaving her party huddled together in the middle of the
    street, in a pouring rain, Harriet went to the door, and gave the
    peculiar rap which was her customary signal to her friends. There
    was not the usual ready response, and she was obliged to repeat
    the signal several times. At length a window was raised, and the
    head of a <i>white man</i> appeared, with the gruff question, "Who are
    you?" and "What do you want?" Harriet asked after her friend, and
    was told that he had been obliged to leave for "harboring
    niggers."
</p>
<p>
    Here was an unforeseen trouble; day was breaking, and daylight was
    the enemy of the hunted and flying fugitives. Their faithful
    leader stood one moment in the street, and in that moment she had
    flashed a message quicker than that of the telegraph to her unseen
    Protector, and the answer came as quickly; in a suggestion to her
    of an almost forgotten place of refuge. Outside of the town there
    was a little island in a swamp, where the grass grew tall and
    rank, and where no human being could be suspected of seeking a
    hiding place. To this spot she conducted her party; she waded the
    swamp, carrying in a basket two well-drugged babies (these were a
    pair of little twins, whom I have since seen well grown young
    women), and the rest of the company following. She ordered them to
    lie down in the tall, wet grass, and here she prayed again, and
    waited for deliverance. The poor creatures were all cold, and wet,
    and hungry, and Harriet did not dare to leave them to get
    supplies; for no doubt the man at whose house she had knocked, had
    given the alarm in the town; and officers might be on the watch
    for them. They were truly in a wretched condition, but Harriet's
    faith never wavered, her silent prayer still ascended, and she
    confidently expected help from some quarter or other.
</p>
<p>
    It was after dusk when a man came slowly walking along the solid
    pathway on the edge of the swamp. He was clad in the garb of a
    Quaker; and proved to be a "friend" in need and indeed; he seemed
    to be talking to himself, but ears quickened by sharp practice
    caught the words he was saying:
</p>
<p>
    "My wagon stands in the barn-yard of the next farm across the way.
    The horse is in the stable; the harness hangs on a nail." And the
    man was gone. Night fell, and Harriet stole forth to the place
    designated. Not only a wagon, but a wagon well provisioned stood
    in the yard; and before many minutes the party were rescued from
    their wretched position, and were on their way rejoicing, to the
    next town. Here dwelt a Quaker whom Harriet knew, and he readily
    took charge of the horse and wagon, and no doubt returned them to
    their owner. How the good man who thus came to their rescue had
    received any intimation of their being in the neighborhood Harriet
    never knew. But these sudden deliverances never seemed to strike
    her as at all strange or mysterious; her prayer was the prayer of
    faith, and she <i>expected</i> an answer.
</p>
<p>
    At one time, as she was on her way South for a party of slaves,
    she was stopped not far from the southern shore of the Chesapeake
    Bay, by a young woman, who had been for some days in hiding, and
    was anxiously watching for "Moses," who was soon expected to pass
    that way.
</p>
<p>
    This girl was a young and pretty Mulatto, named Tilly, she had
    been lady's maid and dressmaker, for her Mistress. She was engaged
    to a young man from another plantation, but he had joined one of
    Harriet's parties, and gone North. Tilly was to have gone also at
    that time, but had found it impossible to get away. Now she had
    learned that it was her Master's intention to give her to a Negro
    of his own for his wife; and in fear and desperation, she made a
    strike for freedom. Friends had concealed her, and all had been on
    the watch for Moses.
</p>
<p>
    The distress and excitement of the poor creature was so great, and
    she begged and implored in such agonized tones that Harriet would
    just see her safe to Baltimore, where she knew of friends who
    would harbor her, and help her on her way, that Harriet determined
    to turn about, and endeavor to take the poor girl thus far on her
    Northward journey.
</p>
<p>
    They reached the shore of Chesapeake Bay too late to leave that
    night, and were obliged to hide for a night and day in the loft of
    an old out-house, where every sound caused poor Tilly to tremble
    as if she had an ague fit. When the time for the boat to leave
    arrived, a sad disappointment awaited them. The boat on which they
    had expected to leave was disabled, and another boat was to take
    its place. At that time, according to the law of Slavery, no Negro
    could leave his Master's land, or travel anywhere, without a pass,
    properly signed by his owner. Of course this poor fugitive had no
    pass; and Harriet's passes were her own wits; but among her many
    friends, there was one who seemed to have influence with the clerk
    of the boat, on which she expected to take passage; and she was
    the bearer of a note requesting, or commanding him to take these
    two women to the end of his route, asking no questions.
</p>
<p>
    Now here was an unforeseen difficulty; the boat was not going; the
    clerk was not there; all on the other boat were strangers. But
    forward they must go, trusting in Providence. As they walked down
    to the boat, a gang of lazy white men standing together, began to
    make comments on their appearance.
</p>
<p>
    "Too many likely looking Niggers traveling North, about these
    days." "Wonder if these wenches have got a pass." "Where you
    going, you two?" Tilly trembled and cowered, and clung to her
    protector, but Harriet put on a bold front, and holding the note
    given her by her friend in her hand, and supporting her terrified
    charge, she walked by the men, taking no notice of their insults.
</p>
<p>
    They joined the stream of people going up to get their tickets,
    but when Harriet asked for hers, the clerk eyed her suspiciously,
    and said: "You just stand aside, you two; I'll attend to your case
    bye and bye."
</p>
<p>
    Harriet led the young girl to the bow of the boat, where they were
    alone, and here, having no other help, she, as was her custom,
    addressed herself to the Lord. Kneeling on the seat, and
    supporting her head on her hands, and fixing her eyes on the
    waters of the bay, she groaned:
</p>
<p>
    "Oh, Lord! You've been wid me in six troubles, <i>don't</i> desert me
    in the seventh!"
</p>
<p>
    "Moses! Moses!" cried Tilly, pulling her by the sleeve. "Do go and
    see if you can't get tickets now."
</p>
<p>
    "Oh, Lord! You've been wid me in six troubles, <i>don't</i> desert me
    in the seventh."
</p>
<p>
    And so Harriet's story goes on in her peculiarly graphic manner,
    till at length in terror Tilly exclaimed:
</p>
<p>
    "Oh, Moses! the man is coming. What shall we do?"
</p>
<p>
    "Oh, Lord, you've been wid me in six troubles!"
</p>
<p>
    Here the clerk touched her on the shoulder, and Tilly thought
    their time had come, but all he said was:
</p>
<p>
    "You can come now and get your tickets," and their troubles were
    over.
</p>
<p>
    What changed this man from his former suspicious and antagonistic
    aspect, Harriet never knew. Of course she said it was "de Lord,"
    but as to the agency he used, she never troubled herself to
    inquire. She <i>expected</i> deliverance when she prayed, unless the
    Lord had ordered otherwise, and in that case she was perfectly
    willing to accept the Divine decree.
</p>
<p>
    When surprise was expressed at her courage and daring, or at her
    unexpected deliverances, she would always reply: "Don't, I tell
    you, Missus, 'twan't <i>me</i>, 'twas <i>de Lord</i>! Jes' so long as he
    wanted to use me, he would take keer of me, an' when he didn't
    want me no longer, I was ready to go; I always tole him, I'm gwine
    to hole stiddy on to you, an' you've got to see me trou."
</p>
<p>
    There came a time when Harriet, who had already brought away as
    many of her family as she could reach, besides all others who
    would trust themselves to her care, became much troubled in
    "spirit" about three of her brothers, having had an intimation of
    some kind that danger was impending over them. With her usual
    wonderful cunning, she employed a friend to write a letter for her
    to a man named Jacob Jackson, who lived near the plantation where
    these brothers were at that time the hired slaves.
</p>
<p>
    Jacob Jackson was a free negro, who could both read and write, and
    who was under suspicion just then of having a hand in the
    disappearance of colored "property." It was necessary, therefore,
    to exercise great caution in writing to him, on his own account as
    well as that of the writer, and those whom she wished to aid.
    Jacob had an adopted son, William Henry Jackson, also free, who
    had come North. Harriet determined to sign her letter with William
    Henry's name, feeling sure that Jacob would be clever enough to
    understand by her peculiar phraseology, the meaning she intended
    to convey.
</p>
<p>
    Therefore, after speaking of indifferent matters, the letter went
    on: "Read my letter to the old folks, and give my love to them,
    and tell my brothers to be always <i>watching unto prayer</i>, and when
    <i>the good old ship of Zion comes along, to be ready to step on
    board</i>." This letter was signed "William Henry Jackson."
</p>
<p>
    Jacob was not allowed to have his letters in those days, until the
    self-elected inspectors of correspondence had had the perusal of
    them, and consulted over their secret meaning. These wise-acres
    therefore assembled, wiped their glasses carefully, put them on,
    and proceeded to examine this suspicious document. What it meant
    they could not imagine. William Henry Jackson had no parents, or
    brothers, and the letter was incomprehensible. Study as they
    might, no light dawned upon them, but their suspicions became
    stronger, and they were sure the letter meant mischief.
</p>
<p>
    White genius having exhausted itself, black genius was brought
    into requisition. Jacob was sent for, and the letter was placed in
    his hands. He read between the lines, and comprehended the hidden
    meaning at once. "Moses" had dictated this letter, and Moses was
    coming. The brothers must be on the watch, and ready to join her
    at a moment's warning. But Moses must hurry, for the word had gone
    forth that the brothers were to be sent South, and the chain-gang
    was being collected.
</p>
<p>
    Jacob read the letter slowly, threw it down, and said: "Dat letter
    can't be meant for me no how; I can't make head or tail of it."
    And he walked off and took immediate measures to let Harriet's
    brothers know that she was on the way, and they must be ready at
    the given signal to start for the North.
</p>
<p>
    It was the day before Christmas when Harriet arrived, and the
    brothers were to have started on the day after Christmas for the
    South. They started on Christmas-day, but with their faces turned
    in another direction, and instead of the chain-gang and the whip,
    they had the North Star for their guide, and the Moses of her
    people for their leader.
</p>
<p>
    As usual, this mysterious woman appeared suddenly, and word was
    conveyed to the brothers that they were to be at Old Ben's cabin
    on Saturday night, ready to start. "Old Ben" was their father, and
    as the parents were not of much use now, Harriet was pretty
    certain that they would not be sent away, and so she left them
    till she had rescued the younger and more valuable members of the
    family.
</p>
<p>
    Quite a number had assembled at the cabin when the hour came for
    starting, but one brother was missing. Something had detained
    John; but when the time for starting had struck, Harriet's word
    was "forward," and she "nebber waited for no one."
</p>
<p>
    Poor John was ready to start from his cabin in the negro quarter
    when his wife was taken ill, and in an hour or two another little
    heir to the blessings of slavery had come into the world.
</p>
<p>
    John must go off for a "Granny," and being a faithful,
    affectionate creature, he could not leave his wife under the
    present circumstances.
</p>
<p>
    After the birth of the child he determined to start. The North and
    freedom, or the South and life-long slavery, were the alternatives
    before him; and this was his last chance. If he once reached the
    North, he hoped with the help of Moses to bring his wife and
    children there.
</p>
<p>
    Again and again he tried to start out of the door, but a watchful
    eye was on him, and he was always arrested by the question, "Where
    you gwine, John?" His wife had not been informed of the danger
    hanging over his head, but she knew he was uneasy, and she feared
    he was meditating a plan of escape. John told her he was going to
    try to get hired out on Christmas to another man, as that was the
    day on which such changes were made.
</p>
<p>
    He left the house but stood near the window listening. He heard
    his wife sobbing and moaning, and not being able to endure it he
    went back to her. "Oh, John!" she cried, "you's gwine to lebe me!
    I know it! but wherebber you go, John, don't forgit me an' de
    little children."
</p>
<p>
    John assured her that wherever he went she should come. He might
    not come for her, but he would send Moses, and then he hurried
    away. He had many miles to walk to his old father's cabin, where
    he knew the others would be waiting for him, and at daybreak he
    overtook them in the "fodder house," not far from the home of the
    old people.
</p>
<p>
    At that time Harriet had not seen her mother for six years, but
    she did not dare to let her know that four of her children were so
    near her on their way to the North, for she would have raised such
    an uproar in her efforts to detain them, that the whole
    neighborhood would have been aroused.
</p>
<p>
    The poor old woman had been expecting her sons to spend Christmas
    with her as usual. She had been hard at work in preparation for
    their arrival. The fatted pig had been killed, and had been
    converted into every form possible to the flesh of swine; pork,
    bacon and sausages were ready, but the boys did not come, and
    there she sat watching and waiting.
</p>
<p>
    In the night when Harriet with two of her brothers, and two other
    fugitives who had joined them arrived at the "fodder house," they
    were exhausted and well-nigh famished. They sent the two strange
    men up to the cabin to try to rouse "Old Ben," but not to let
    their mother know that her children were so near her.
</p>
<p>
    The men succeeded in rousing Old Ben, who came out quietly, and as
    soon as he heard their story, went back into the house, gathered
    together a quantity of provisions, and came down to the fodder
    house. He placed the provisions inside the door, saying a few
    words of welcome to his children, but taking care <i>not to see
    them</i>. "I know what'll come of dis," he said, "an' I ain't gwine
    to see my chillen, no how." The close espionage under which these
    poor creatures dwelt, engendered in them a cunning and artifice,
    which to them seemed only a fair and right attempt on their part,
    to cope with power and cruelty constantly in force against them.
</p>
<p>
    Up among the ears of corn lay the old man's children, and one of
    them he had not seen for six years. It rained in torrents all that
    Sunday, and there they lay among the corn, for they could not
    start till night. At about daybreak John had joined them. There
    were wide chinks in the boards of the fodder house, and through
    these they could see the cabin of the old folks, now quite alone
    in their old age. 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 "de boys" were coming, and then
    with a sad and disappointed air she would turn back into the
    cabin, and they could almost hear her sigh as she did so.
</p>
<p>
    What had become of the boys? Had they been sold off down South?
    Had they tried to escape and been retaken? Would she never see
    them or hear of them more?
</p>
<p>
    I have often heard it said by Southern people that "niggers had no
    feeling; they did not care when their children were taken from
    them." I have seen enough of them to know that their love for
    their offspring is quite equal to that of the "superior race," and
    it is enough to hear the tale of Harriet's endurance and self-sacrifice
    to rescue her brothers and sisters, to convince one that
    a heart, truer and more loving than that of many a white woman,
    dwelt in her bosom. I am quite willing to acknowledge that she was
    almost an anomaly among her people, but I have known many of her
    family, and so far as I can judge they all seem to be peculiarly
    intelligent, upright and religious people, and to have a strong
    feeling of family affection. There may be many among the colored
    race like them; certainly all should not be judged by the idle,
    miserable darkies who have swarmed about Washington and other
    cities since the War.
</p>
<p>
    Two or three times while the group of fugitives were concealed in
    this loft of the fodder house, the old man came down and pushed
    food inside the door, and after nightfall he came again to
    accompany his children as far as he dared, upon their journey.
    When he reached the fodder house, he tied a handkerchief tight
    about his eyes, and one of his sons taking him by one arm, and
    Harriet taking him by the other, they went on their way talking in
    low tones together, asking and answering questions as to relatives
    and friends.
</p>
<p>
    The time of parting came, and they bade him farewell, and left him
    standing in the middle of the road. When he could no longer hear
    their footsteps he turned back, and taking the handkerchief from
    his eyes, he hastened home.
</p>
<p>
    But before Harriet and her brothers left, they had gone up to the
    cabin during the evening to take a silent farewell of the poor old
    mother. Through the little window of the cabin they saw her
    sitting by the fire, her head on her hand, rocking back and forth,
    as was her way when she was in great trouble; praying, no doubt,
    and wondering what had become of her children, and what new evil
    had befallen them.
</p>
<p>
    With streaming eyes, they watched her for ten or fifteen minutes;
    but time was precious, and they must reach their next under-ground
    station before daylight, and so they turned sadly away.
</p>
<p>
    When Christmas was over, and the men had not returned, there began
    to be no small stir in the plantation from which they had escaped.
    The first place to search, of course, was the home of the old
    people. At the "Big House" nothing had been seen of them. The
    master said "they had generally come up there to see the house
    servants, when they came for Christmas, but this time they hadn't
    been round at all. Better go down to Old Ben's, and ask him."
</p>
<p>
    They went to Old Ben's. No one was at home but "Old Kit," the
    mother. She said "not one of 'em came dis Christmas. She was
    looking for 'em all day, an' her heart was mos' broke about 'em."
</p>
<p>
    Old Ben was found and questioned about his sons. Old Ben said, "He
    hadn't <i>seen one</i> of 'em dis Christmas." With all his deep
    religious feeling, Old Ben thought that in such a case as this, it
    was enough for him to keep to the <i>letter</i>, and let the man
    hunters find his sons if they could. Old Ben knew the Old
    Testament stories well. Perhaps he thought of Rahab who hid the
    spies, and received a commendation for it. Perhaps of Jacob and
    Abraham, and some of their rather questionable proceedings. He
    knew the New Testament also, but I think perhaps he thought the
    kind and loving Saviour would have said to him, "Neither do I
    condemn thee." I doubt if he had read Mrs. Opie, and I wonder what
    judgment that excellent woman would have given in a case like
    this.
</p>
<p>
    These poor fugitives, hunted like partridges upon the mountains,
    or like the timid fox by the eager sportsman, were obliged in
    self-defense to meet cunning with cunning, and to borrow from the
    birds and animals their mode of eluding their pursuers by any
    device which in the exigency of the case might present itself to
    them. They had a creed of their own, and a code of morals which we
    dare not criticise till we find our own lives and those of our
    dear ones similarly imperiled.
</p>
<p>
    One of Harriet's other brothers had long been attached to a pretty
    mulatto girl named Catherine, who was owned by another master; but
    this man had other views for her, and would not let her marry
    William Henry. On one of Harriet's journeys this brother had made
    up his mind to make one of her next party to the North, and that
    Catherine should go also. He went to a tailor's and bought a new
    suit of clothes for a small person, and concealed them inside the
    fence of the garden of Catherine's master. This garden ran down to
    the bank of a little stream, and Catherine had been notified where
    to find the clothes. When the time came to get ready, Catherine
    boldly walked down to the foot of the garden, took up the bundle,
    and hiding under the bank, she put on the man's garments and sent
    her own floating down the stream.
</p>
<p>
    She was soon missed, and all the girls in the house were set to
    looking for Catherine. Presently they saw coming up from the river
    a well-dressed little darkey boy, and they all ceased looking for
    Catherine, and stared at him. He walked directly by them, round
    the house, and out of the gate, without the slightest suspicion
    being excited as to who he was. In a few weeks from that time,
    this party were all safe in Canada.
</p>
<p>
    William Henry died in Canada, but I have seen and talked with
    Catherine at Harriet's house.
</p>
<p>
    I am not quite certain which company it was that was under her
    guidance on their Northward way, but at one time when a number of
    men were following her, she received one of her sudden intimations
    that danger was ahead. "Chillen," she said, "we must stop here and
    cross dis ribber." They were on the bank of a stream of some
    width, and apparently a deep and rapid one. The men were afraid to
    cross; there was no bridge and no boat; but like her great
    pattern, she went forward into the waters, and the men not knowing
    what else to do, followed, but with fear and trembling. The stream
    did not divide to make a way for them to cross over, but to her
    was literally fulfilled the promise:
</p>
<center>
<table summary="">
<tr><td>
<pre>
    "When through the deep waters I cause thee to go,
    The rivers of sorrow shall not overflow."
</pre>
</td></tr>
</table>
</center>
<p>
    "For," said she, "Missus, de water never came above my chin; when
    we thought surely we were all going under, it became shallower and
    shallower, and we came out safe on the odder side." Then there was
    another stream to cross, which was also passed in safety. They
    found afterward that a few rods ahead of them the advertisement of
    these escaping fugitives was posted up, and the officers,
    forewarned of their coming, were waiting for them. But though the
    Lord thus marvelously protected her from capture, she did not
    always escape the consequences of exposure like this. It was in
    March that this passage of the streams was effected, and the
    weather was raw and cold; Harriet traveled a long distance in her
    wet clothing, and was afterward very ill for a long time with a
    very severe cold. I have often heard her tell this story; but some
    of the incidents, particularly that of her illness, were not
    mentioned by herself, but were written me by friend Garrett.
</p>
<p>
    I hardly know how to approach the subject of the spiritual
    experiences of my sable heroine. They seem so to enter into the
    realm of the supernatural, that I can hardly wonder that those who
    never knew her are ready to throw discredit upon the story.
    Ridicule has been cast upon the whole tale of her adventures by
    the advocates of human slavery; and perhaps by those who would
    tell with awe-struck countenance some tale of ghostly visitation,
    or spiritual manifestation, at a dimly lighted "<i>seance</i>."
</p>
<p>
    Had I not known so well her deeply religious character, and her
    conscientious veracity, and had I not since the war, and when she
    was an inmate of my own house, seen such remarkable instances of
    what seemed to be her direct intercourse with heaven, I should not
    dare to risk my own character for veracity by making these things
    public in this manner.
</p>
<p>
    But when I add that I have the strongest testimonials to her
    character for integrity from William H. Seward, Gerritt Smith,
    Wendell Phillips, Fred. Douglass, and my brother, Prof. S.M.
    Hopkins, who has known her for many years, I do not fear to brave
    the incredulity of any reader.
</p>
<p>
    Governor Seward wrote of her:
</p>
<p>
    "I have known Harriet long, and a nobler, higher spirit, or a
    truer, seldom dwells in human form."
</p>
<p>
    Gerritt Smith, the distinguished philanthropist, was so kind as to
    write me expressing his gratification that I had undertaken this
    work, and added:
</p>
<p>
    "I have often listened to Harriet with delight on her visits to my
    family, and I am convinced that she is not only truthful, but that
    she has a rare discernment, and a deep and sublime philanthropy."
</p>
<p>
    Wendell Phillips wrote me, mentioning that in Boston, Harriet
    earned the confidence and admiration of all those who were working
    for freedom; and speaking of her labors during the war, he added:
    "In my opinion there are few captains, perhaps few colonels, who
    have done more for the loyal cause since the war began, and few
    men who did more before that time, for the colored race, than our
    fearless and sagacious friend."
</p>
<p>
    Many other letters I received; from Mr. Sanborn, Secretary of the
    Massachusetts Board of Charities, from Fred. Douglass, from Rev.
    Henry Fowler, and from Union officers at the South during the war,
    all speaking in the highest praise and admiration of the character
    and labors of my black heroine.
</p>
<p>
    Many of her passes also were sent me; in which she is spoken of as
    "Moses," for by that name she was universally known. For the story
    of her heroic deeds had gone before her, and the testimony of all
    who knew her accorded with the words of Mr. Seward:
</p>
<p>
    "The cause of freedom owes her much; the country owes her much."
    And yet the country was not willing to pay her anything. Mr.
    Seward's efforts, seconded by other distinguished men, to get a
    pension for her, were sneered at in Congress as absurd and
    quixotic, and the effort failed.
</p>
<p>
    Secretary Seward, from whom Harriet purchased her little place
    near Auburn, died. The place had been mortgaged when this noble
    woman left her home, and threw herself into the work needed for
    the Union cause; the mortgage was to be foreclosed. The old
    parents, then nearly approaching their centennial year, were to be
    turned out to die in a poor-house, when the sudden determination
    was taken to send out a little sketch of her life to the
    benevolent public, in the hope of redeeming the little home. This
    object, through the kindness of friends, was accomplished. The old
    people died in Harriet's own home, breathing blessings upon her
    for her devotion to them.
</p>
<p>
    Now another necessity has arisen, and our sable friend, who never
    has been known to beg for herself, asks once more for help in
    accomplishing a favorite project for the good of her people. This,
    as she says, is "her last work, and she only prays de Lord to let
    her live till it is well started, and den she is ready to go."
    This work is the building of a hospital for old and disabled
    colored people; and in this she has already had the sympathy and
    aid of the good people of Auburn; the mayor and his noble wife
    having given her great assistance in the meetings she has held in
    aid of this object. It is partly to aid her in this work, on which
    she has so set her heart, that this story of her life and labors
    is being re-written.
</p>
<p>
    At one time, when she felt called upon to go down for some company
    of slaves, she was, as she knew, watched for everywhere (for there
    had been an excited meeting of slave-holders, and they were
    determined to catch her, dead or alive), her friends gathered
    round her, imploring her not to go on in the face of danger and
    death, for they were sure she would never be allowed to return.
    And this was her answer:
</p>
<p>
    "Now look yer! John saw de City, didn't he?" "Yes, John saw de
    City." "Well, what did he see? He saw twelve gates, didn't he?
    Three of dose gates was on de north; three of 'em was on de east;
    an' three of 'em was on de west; but dere was three more, an' dem
    was on de <i>south</i>; an' I reckon, if dey kill me down dere, I'll
    git into one of dem gates, don't you?"
</p>
<p>
    Whether Harriet's ideas of the geographical bearings of the gates
    of the Celestial City as seen in the apocalyptic vision, were
    correct or not, we cannot doubt that she was right in the
    deduction her faith drew from them; and that somewhere, whether
    North, East, South, or West, to our dim vision, there is a gate
    that will be opened for our good Harriet, where the welcome will
    be given, "Come in, thou blessed of my Father."
</p>
<p>
    It is a peculiarity of Harriet, that she had seldom been known to
    intimate a wish that anything should be given to herself; but when
    her people are in need, no scruples of delicacy stand in the way
    of her petitions, nay, almost her <i>demands</i> for help.
</p>
<p>
    When, after rescuing so many others, and all of her brothers and
    sisters that could be reached, with their children, she received
    an intimation in some mysterious or supernatural way, that the old
    people were in trouble and needed her, she asked the Lord where
    she should go for the money to enable her to go for them. She was
    in some way, as she supposed, directed to the office of a certain
    gentleman, a friend of the slaves, in New York. When she left the
    house of the friends with whom she was staying, she said: "I'm
    gwine to Mr. &mdash;&mdash;&mdash;'s office, an' I ain't gwine to lebe dere, an'
    I ain't gwine to eat or drink, till I get money enough to take me
    down after de ole people."
</p>
<p>
    She went into this gentleman's office.
</p>
<p>
    "How do you do, Harriet? What do you want?" was the first
    greeting.
</p>
<p>
    "I want some money, sir."
</p>
<p>
    "<i>You do</i>! How much do you want?"
</p>
<p>
    "I want twenty dollars, sir!"
</p>
<p>
    "<i>Twenty dollars</i>! Who told you to come here for twenty dollars!"
</p>
<p>
    "De Lord tole me, sir."
</p>
<p>
    "He did; well I guess the Lord's mistaken this time."
</p>
<p>
    "No, sir; de Lord's nebber mistaken! Anyhow I'm gwine to sit here
    till I get it."
</p>
<p>
    So she sat down and went to sleep. All the morning, and all the
    afternoon, she sat there still; sometimes sleeping, sometimes
    rousing up, often finding the office full of gentlemen; sometimes
    finding herself alone. Many fugitives were passing through New
    York at this time, and those who came in supposed her to be one of
    them, tired out, and resting. Sometimes she would be roused up
    with the words:
</p>
<p>
    "Come, Harriet! You had better go; there's no money for you here."
</p>
<p>
    "No, sir; I'm not gwine to stir from here till I git my twenty
    dollars!"
</p>
<p>
    She does not know all that happened, for deep sleep fell upon her;
    probably one of the turns of somnolency to which she has always
    been subject; but without doubt her story was whispered from one
    to another, and as her name and exploits were well known to many
    persons, the sympathies of some of those visitors to the office
    were aroused; at all events she came to full consciousness, at
    last, to find herself the happy possessor of <i>sixty dollars</i>, the
    contribution of these strangers. She went on her way rejoicing to
    bring her old parents from the land of bondage.
</p>
<p>
    When she reached their home, she found that her old father was to
    be tried the next Monday for helping off slaves. And so, as she
    says in her forcible language, "I just removed my father's trial
    to a higher court, and brought him off to Canada."
</p>
<p>
    The manner of their escape is detailed in the following letter
    from friend Garrett:
</p>
<center>
<table summary="">
<tr><td>
<pre>
                             WILMINGTON, 6th Mo., 1868.
</pre>
</td></tr>
</table>
</center>
<p>
    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 the Supreme Power truly was great.
</p>
<p>
    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,[C] 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 several 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 armpits; 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 underclothing 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
    masters of these 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 who 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 <i>straw collar</i>, 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
    afterward 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,
</p>
<center>
<table summary="">
<tr><td>
<pre>
                                  THOS. GARRETT.
</pre>
</td></tr>
</table>
</center>
<a name="note-C"><!--Note--></a>
<p class="foot">
<sup><u>C</u></sup>    [ 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 somewhat over
    three hundred brought by her to the Northern States and Canada.]
</p>
<p>
    As I have before stated, with all Harriet's reluctance to ask for
    anything for herself, no matter how great her needs may be, no
    such scruples trouble her if any of her people are in need. She
    never hesitates to call upon her kind friends in Auburn and in
    other places for help when her people are in want. At one time,
    when some such emergency had arisen, she went to see her friend,
    Governor Seward, and boldly presented her case to him.
</p>
<p>
    "Harriet," he said, "you have worked for others long enough. If
    you would ever ask anything for yourself, I would gladly give it
    to you, but I will not help you to rob yourself for others any
    longer."
</p>
<p>
    In spite of this apparent roughness, we may be sure Harriet did
    not leave this noble man's house empty handed.
</p>
<p>
    And here I am reminded of a touching little circumstance that
    occurred at the funeral of Secretary Seward.
</p>
<p>
    The great man lay in his coffin. Friends, children, and admirers
    were gathered there. Everything that love and wealth could do had
    been done; around him were floral emblems of every possible shape
    and design, that human ingenuity could suggest, or money could
    purchase. Just before the coffin was to be closed, a woman black
    as night stole quietly in, and laying a wreath of field flowers
    <i>on his feet</i>, as quietly glided out again. This was the simple
    tribute of our sable friend, and her last token of love and
    gratitude to her kind benefactor. I think he would have said,
    "This woman hath done more than ye all."
</p>
<p>
    While preparing this second edition of Harriet's story, I have
    been much pleased to find that that good man, Oliver Johnson, is
    still living and in New York City. And I have just returned from a
    very pleasant interview with him. He remembers Harriet with great
    pleasure, though he has not seen her for many years. He speaks, as
    all who knew her do, of his entire confidence in her truthfulness
    and in the perfect integrity of her character.
</p>
<p>
    He remembered her coming into his office with Joe, as I have
    stated it, and said he wished he could recall to me other
    incidents connected with her. But during those years, there were
    such numbers of fugitive slaves coming into the Anti-Slavery
    Office, that he might not tell the incidents of any one group
    correctly. No records were kept, as that would be so unsafe for
    the poor creatures, and those who aided them. He said, "You know
    Harriet never spoke of anything she had done, as if it was at all
    remarkable, or as if it deserved any commendation, but I remember
    one day, when she came into the office there was a Boston lady
    there, a warm-hearted, impulsive woman, who was engaged heart and
    hand in the Anti-Slavery cause.
</p>
<p>
    "Harriet was telling, in her simple way, the story of her last
    journey. A party of fugitives were to meet her in a wood, that she
    might conduct them North. For some unexplained reason they did not
    come. Night came on and with it a blinding snow storm and a raging
    wind. She protected herself behind a tree as well as she could,
    and remained all night alone exposed to the fury of the storm."
</p>
<p>
    "'Why, Harriet!' said this lady, 'didn't you almost feel when you
    were lying alone, as if there was <i>no God</i>?' 'Oh, no! missus,'
    said Harriet, looking up in her child-like, simple way, 'I jest
    asked Jesus to take keer of me, an' He never let me git <i>frost-bitten</i>
    one bit.'"
</p>
<p>
    In 1860 the first gun was fired from Fort Sumter; and this was the
    signal for a rush to arms at the North and the South, and the war
    of the rebellion was begun. Troops were hurried off from the North
    to the West and the South, and battles raged in every part of the
    Southern States. By land and by sea, and on the Southern rivers,
    the conflict raged, and thousands and thousands of brave men shed
    their blood for what was maintained by each side to be the true
    principle.
</p>
<p>
    This war our brave heroine had expected, and its result, the
    emancipation of the slaves. Three years before, while staying with
    the Rev. Henry Highland Garnet in New York, a vision came to her
    in the night of the emancipation of her people. Whether a dream,
    or one of those glimpses into the future, which sometimes seem to
    have been granted to her, no one can say, but the effect upon her
    was very remarkable.
</p>
<p>
    She rose singing, "<i>My people are free!" "My people are free</i>!"
    She came down to breakfast singing the words in a sort of ecstasy.
    She could not eat. The dream or vision filled her whole soul, and
    physical needs were forgotten.
</p>
<p>
    Mr. Garnet said to her:
</p>
<p>
    "Oh, Harriet! Harriet! You've come to torment us before the time;
    do cease this noise! My grandchildren may see the day of the
    emancipation of our people, but you and I will never see it."
</p>
<p>
    "I tell you, sir, you'll see it, and you'll see it soon. My people
    are free! My people are free."
</p>
<p>
    When, three years later, President Lincoln's proclamation of
    emancipation was given forth, and there was a great jubilee among
    the friends of the slaves, Harriet was continually asked, "Why do
    you not join with the rest in their rejoicing!" "Oh," she
    answered, "I had <i>my</i> jubilee three years ago. I rejoiced all I
    could den; I can't rejoice no more."
</p>
<p>
    In some of the Southern States, spies and scouts were needed to
    lead our armies into the interior. The ignorant and degraded
    slaves feared the "Yankee Buckra" more than they did their own
    masters, and after the proclamation of President Lincoln, giving
    freedom to the slaves, a person in whom these poor creatures could
    trust, was needed to assure them that these white Northern men
    were friends, and that they would be safe, trusting themselves in
    their hands.
</p>
<p>
    In the early days of the war, Governor Andrew of Massachusetts,
    knowing well the brave and sagacious character of Harriet, sent
    for her, and asked her if she could go at a moment's notice, to
    act as spy and scout for our armies, and, if need be, to act as
    hospital nurse, in short, to be ready to give any required service
    to the Union cause.
</p>
<p>
    There was much to be thought of; there were the old folks in the
    little home up in Auburn, there was the little farm of which she
    had taken the sole care; there were many dependents for whom she
    had provided by her daily toil. What was to become of them all if
    she deserted them? But the cause of the Union seemed to need her
    services, and after a few moments of reflection, she determined to
    leave all else, and go where it seemed that duty called her.
</p>
<p>
    During those few years, the wants of the old people and of
    Harriet's other dependents were attended to by the kind people of
    Auburn. At that time, I often saw the old people, and wrote
    letters for them to officers at the South, asking from them
    tidings of Harriet. I received many letters in reply, all
    testifying to her faithfulness and bravery, and her untiring zeal
    for the welfare of our soldiers, black and white. She was often
    under fire from both armies; she led our forces through the jungle
    and the swamp, guided by an unseen hand. She gained the confidence
    of the slaves by her cheery words, and songs, and sacred hymns,
    and obtained from them much valuable information. She nursed our
    soldiers in the hospitals, and knew how, when they were dying by
    numbers of some malignant disease, with cunning skill to extract
    from roots and herbs, which grew near the source of the disease,
    the healing draught, which allayed the fever and restored numbers
    to health.
</p>
<p>
    It is a shame to our government that such a valuable helper as
    this woman was not allowed pay or pension; but even was obliged to
    support herself during those days of incessant toil. Officers and
    men were paid. Indeed many enlisted from no patriotic motive, but
    because they were insured a support which they could not procure
    for themselves at home. But this woman sacrificed everything, and
    left her nearest and dearest, and risked her life hundreds of
    times for the cause of the Union, without one cent of recompense.
    She returned at last to her little home, to find it a scene of
    desolation. Her little place about to be sold to satisfy a
    mortgage, and herself without the means to redeem it.
</p>
<p>
    Harriet was one of John Brown's "men." His brave and daring spirit
    found ready sympathy in her courageous heart; she sheltered him in
    her home in Canada, and helped him to plan his campaigns. I find
    in the life and letters of this remarkable man, written by Mr. F.
    B. Sanborn, occasional mention of Harriet, and her deep interest
    in Captain Brown's enterprises.
</p>
<p>
    At one time he writes to his son from St. Catherine's, Canada:
</p>
<p>
    "I came on here the day after you left Rochester. I am succeeding
    to all appearance beyond my expectations. Harriet Tubman <i>hooked
    on her whole team at once</i>. He (Harriet) is the most of a man
    naturally that I ever met with. There is abundant material here
    and of the right quality." She suggested the 4th of July to him as
    the time to begin operations. And Mr. Sanborn adds: "It was about
    the 4th of July, as Harriet, the African sybil, had suggested,
    that Brown first showed himself in the counties of Washington and
    Jefferson, on opposite sides of the lordly Potomac."
</p>
<p>
    I find among her papers, many of which are defaced by being
    carried about with her for years, portions of these letters
    addressed to myself, by persons at the South, and speaking of the
    valuable assistance Harriet was rendering our soldiers in the
    hospital, and our armies in the field. At this time her manner of
    life, as related by herself, was this:
</p>
<p>
    "Well, missus, I'd go to de hospital, I would, early eb'ry
    mornin'. I'd get a big chunk of ice, I would, and put it in a
    basin, and fill it with water; den I'd take a sponge and begin.
    Fust man I'd come to, I'd thrash away de flies, and dey'd rise,
    dey would, like bees roun' a hive. Den I'd begin to bathe der
    wounds, an' by de time I'd bathed off three or four, de fire and
    heat would have melted de ice and made de water warm, an' it would
    be as red as clar blood. Den I'd go an' git more ice, I would, an'
    by de time I got to de nex' ones, de flies would be roun' de fust
    ones black an' thick as eber." In this way she worked, day after
    day, till late at night; then she went home to her little cabin,
    and made about fifty pies, a great quantity of ginger-bread, and
    two casks of root beer. These she would hire some contraband to
    sell for her through the camps, and thus she would provide her
    support for another day; for this woman never received pay or
    pension, and never drew for herself but twenty days' rations
    during the four years of her labors. At one time she was called
    away from Hilton Head, by one of our officers, to come to
    Fernandina, where the men were "dying off like sheep," from
    dysentery. Harriet had acquired quite a reputation for her skill
    in curing this disease, by a medicine which she prepared from
    roots which grew near the waters which gave the disease. Here she
    found thousands of sick soldiers and contrabands, and immediately
    gave up her time and attention to them. At another time, we find
    her nursing those who were down by hundreds with small-pox and
    malignant fevers. She had never had these diseases, but she seems
    to have no more fear of death in one form than another. "De Lord
    would take keer of her till her time came, an' den she was ready
    to go."
</p>
<p>
    When our armies and gun-boats first appeared in any part of the
    South, many of the poor negroes were as much afraid of "de Yankee
    Buckra" as of their own masters. It was almost impossible to win
    their confidence, or to get information from them. But to Harriet
    they would tell anything; and so it became quite important that
    she should accompany expeditions going up the rivers, or into
    unexplored parts of the country, to control and get information
    from those whom they took with them as guides.
</p>
<p>
    General Hunter asked her at one time if she would go with several
    gun-boats up the Combahee River, the object of the expedition
    being to take up the torpedoes placed by the rebels in the river,
    to destroy railroads and bridges, and to cut off supplies from the
    rebel troops. She said she would go if Colonel Montgomery was to
    be appointed commander of the expedition. Colonel Montgomery was
    one of John Brown's men, and was well known to Harriet.
    Accordingly, Colonel Montgomery was appointed to the command, and
    Harriet, with several men under her, the principal of whom was J.
    Plowden, whose pass I have, accompanied the expedition. Harriet
    describes in the most graphic manner the appearance of the
    plantations as they passed up the river; the frightened negroes
    leaving their work and taking to the woods, at sight of the gun-boats;
    then coming to peer out like startled deer, and scudding
    away like the wind at the sound of the steam-whistle. "Well," said
    one old negro, "Mas'r said de Yankees had horns and tails, but I
    nebber beliebed it till now." But the word was passed along by the
    mysterious telegraphic communication existing among these simple
    people, that these were "Lincoln's gun-boats come to set them
    free." In vain, then, the drivers used their whips in their
    efforts to hurry the poor creatures back to their quarters; they
    all turned and ran for the gun-boats. They came down every road,
    across every field, just as they had left their work and their
    cabins; women with children clinging around their necks, hanging
    to their dresses, running behind, all making at full speed for
    "Lincoln's gun-boats." Eight hundred poor wretches at one time
    crowded the banks, with their hands extended toward their
    deliverers, and they were all taken off upon the gun-boats, and
    carried down to Beaufort.
</p>
<p>
    "I nebber see such a sight," said Harriet; "we laughed, an'
    laughed, an' laughed. Here you'd see a woman wid a pail on her
    head, rice a smokin' in it jus' as she'd taken it from de fire,
    young one hangin' on behind, one han' roun' her forehead to hold
    on, 'tother han' diggin' into de rice-pot, eatin' wid all its
    might; hold of her dress two or three more; down her back a bag
    wid a pig in it. One woman brought two pigs, a white one an' a
    black one; we took 'em all on board; named de white pig
    Beauregard, and de black pig Jeff Davis. Sometimes de women would
    come wid twins hangin' roun' der necks; 'pears like I nebber see
    so many twins in my life; bags on der shoulders, baskets on der
    heads, and young ones taggin' behin', all loaded; pigs squealin',
    chickens screamin', young ones squallin'." And so they came
    pouring down to the gun-boats. When they stood on the shore, and
    the small boats put out to take them off, they all wanted to get
    in at once. After the boats were crowded, they would hold on to
    them so that they could not leave the shore. The oarsmen would
    beat them on their hands, but they would not let go; they were
    afraid the gun-boats would go off and leave them, and all wanted
    to make sure of one of these arks of refuge. At length Colonel
    Montgomery shouted from the upper deck, above the clamor of
    appealing tones, "Moses, you'll have to give em a song." Then
    Harriet lifted up her voice, and sang:
</p>
<center>
<table summary="">
<tr><td>
<pre>
    "Of all the whole creation in the East or in the West,
    The glorious Yankee nation is the greatest and the best.
    Come along! Come along! don't be alarmed,
    Uncle Sam is rich enough to give you all a farm."
</pre>
</td></tr>
</table>
</center>
<p>
    At the end of every verse, the negroes in their enthusiasm would
    throw up their hands and shout "Glory," and the row-boats would
    take that opportunity to push off; and so at last they were all
    brought on board. The masters fled; houses and barns and railroad
    bridges were burned, tracks torn up, torpedoes destroyed, and the
    object of the expedition was fully accomplished.
</p>
<p>
    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.
</p>
<p>
    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 tink," 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.
</p>
<p>
    The corpse was laid upon the ground, and the people all sat round,
    the group being lighted up by pine torches.
</p>
<p>
    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."
</p>
<p>
    The old preacher began his sermon by pointing to the dead man, who
    lay in a rude box on the ground before him.
</p>
<p>
    "<i>Shum</i>? Ded-a-de-dah! <i>Shum, David</i>? Ded-a-de-dah! Now I want you
    all to <i>flec</i>' for moment. Who ob all dis congregation is gwine
    next to lie ded-e-de-dah? You can't go nowhere's, 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 fin' 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 Buckra said the 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!"
</p>
<p>
    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:
</p>
<center>
<table summary="">
<tr><td>
<pre>
    "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."
</pre>
</td></tr>
</table>
</center>
<p>
    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:
</p>
<center>
<table summary="">
<tr><td>
<pre>
    Eberybody's boun' to go!
</pre>
</td></tr>
</table>
</center>
<p>
    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.
</p>
<p>
    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 could 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 swimmin' 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 thunders 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 de Yankee
    ship[D] 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 de 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,
    dey'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."
</p>
<a name="note-D"><!--Note--></a>
<p class="foot">
<sup><u>D</u></sup>    [ The <i>Wabash</i>.]
</p>
<p>
    The following account of the subject of this memoir is cut from
    the <i>Boston Commonwealth</i> of 1863, kindly sent the writer by Mr.
    Sanborn:
</p>
<p>
    "It was said long ago that the true romance of America was not in
    the fortunes of the Indian, where Cooper sought it, nor in New
    England character, where Judd found it, nor in the social
    contrasts of Virginia planters, as Thackeray imagined, but in the
    story of the fugitive slaves. The observation is as true now as it
    was before War, with swift, gigantic hand, sketched the vast
    shadows, and dashed in the high lights in which romance loves to
    lurk and flash forth. But the stage is enlarged on which these
    dramas are played, the whole world now sit as spectators, and the
    desperation or the magnanimity of a poor black woman has power to
    shake the nation that so long was deaf to her cries. We write of
    one of these heroines, of whom our slave annals are full&mdash;a woman
    whose career is as extraordinary as the most famous of her sex can
    show.
</p>
<p>
    "Araminta Ross, now known by her married name of Tubman, with her
    sounding Christian name changed to Harriet, is the grand-daughter
    of a slave imported from Africa, and has not a drop of white blood
    in her veins. Her parents were Benjamin Ross and Harriet Greene,
    both slaves, but married and faithful to each other. They still
    live in old age and poverty,[E] but free, on a little property at
    Auburn, N.Y., which their daughter purchased for them from Mr.
    Seward, the Secretary of State. She was born, as near as she can
    remember, in 1820 or in 1821, in Dorchester County, on the Eastern
    shore of Maryland, and not far from the town of Cambridge. She had
    ten brothers and sisters, of whom three are now living, all at the
    North, and all rescued from slavery by Harriet, before the War.
    She went back just as the South was preparing to secede, to bring
    away a fourth, but before she could reach her, she was dead. Three
    years before, she had brought away her old father and mother, at
    great risk to herself.
</p>
<a name="note-E"><!--Note--></a>
<p class="foot">
<sup><u>E</u></sup>    [ Both dead for some years.]
</p>
<p>
    "When Harriet was six years old, she was taken from her mother and
    carried ten miles to live with James Cook, whose wife was a
    weaver, to learn the trade of weaving. While still a mere child,
    Cook set her to watching his musk-rat traps, which compelled her
    to wade through the water. It happened that she was once sent when
    she was ill with the measles, and, taking cold from wading in the
    water in this condition, she grew very sick, and her mother
    persuaded her master to take her away from Cook's until she could
    get well.
</p>
<p>
    "Another attempt was made to teach her weaving, but she would not
    learn, for she hated her mistress, and did not want to live at
    home, as she would have done as a weaver, for it was the custom
    then to weave the cloth for the family, or a part of it, in the
    house.
</p>
<p>
    "Soon after she entered her teens she was hired out as a field
    hand, and it was while thus employed that she received a wound,
    which nearly proved fatal, from the effects of which she still
    suffers. In the fall of the year, the slaves there work in the
    evening, cleaning up wheat, husking corn, etc. On this occasion,
    one of the slaves of a farmer named Barrett, left his work, and
    went to the village store in the evening. The overseer followed
    him, and so did Harriet. When the slave was found, the overseer
    swore he should be whipped, and called on Harriet, among others,
    to help tie him. She refused, and as the man ran away, she placed
    herself in the door to stop pursuit. The overseer caught up a
    two-pound weight from the counter and threw it at the fugitive, but it
    fell short and struck Harriet a stunning blow on the head. It was
    long before she recovered from this, and it has left her subject
    to a sort of stupor or lethargy at times; coming upon her in the
    midst of conversation, or whatever she may be doing, and throwing
    her into a deep slumber, from which she will presently rouse
    herself, and go on with her conversation or work.
</p>
<p>
    "After this she lived for five or six years with John Stewart,
    where at first she worked in the house, but afterward 'hired her
    time,' and Dr. Thompson, son of her master's guardian, 'stood for
    her,' that is, was her surety for the payment of what she owed.
    She employed the time thus hired in the rudest labors,&mdash;drove
    oxen, carted, plowed, and did all the work of a man,&mdash;sometimes
    earning money enough in a year, beyond what she paid her master,
    'to buy a pair of steers,' worth forty dollars. The amount exacted
    of a woman for her time was fifty or sixty dollars&mdash;of a man, one
    hundred to one hundred and fifty dollars. Frequently Harriet
    worked for her father, who was a timber inspector, and
    superintended the cutting and hauling of great quantities of
    timber for the Baltimore ship-yards. Stewart, his temporary
    master, was a builder, and for the work of Ross used to receive as
    much as five dollars a day sometimes, he being a superior workman.
    While engaged with her father, she would cut wood, haul logs, etc.
    Her usual 'stint' was half a cord of wood in a day.
</p>
<p>
    "Harriet was married somewhere about 1844, to a free colored man
    named John Tubman, but she had no children. For the last two years
    of slavery she lived with Dr. Thompson, before mentioned, her own
    master not being yet of age, and Dr. T.'s father being his
    guardian, as well as the owner of her own father. In 1849 the
    young man died, and the slaves were to be sold, though previously
    set free by an old will. Harriet resolved not to be sold, and so,
    with no knowledge of the North&mdash;having only heard of Pennsylvania
    and New Jersey&mdash;she walked away one night alone. She found a
    friend in a white lady, who knew her story and helped her on her
    way. After many adventures, she reached Philadelphia, where she
    found work and earned a small stock of money. With this money in
    her purse, she traveled back to Maryland for her husband, but she
    found him married to another woman, and no longer caring to live
    with her. This, however, was not until two years after her escape,
    for she does not seem to have reached her old home in the first
    two expeditions. In December, 1850, she had visited Baltimore and
    brought away her sister and two children, who had come up from
    Cambridge in a boat, under charge of her sister's husband, a free
    black. A few months after she had brought away her brother and two
    other men, but it was not till the fall of 1851, that she found
    her husband and learned of his infidelity. She did not give way to
    rage or grief, but collected a party of fugitives and brought them
    safely to Philadelphia. In December of the same year, she
    returned, and led out a party of eleven, among them her brother
    and his wife. With these she journeyed to Canada, and there spent
    the winter, for this was after the enforcement of Mason's Fugitive
    Slave Bill in Philadelphia and Boston, and there was no safety
    except 'under the paw of the British Lion,' as she quaintly said.
    But the first winter was terribly severe for these poor runaways.
    They earned their bread by chopping wood in the snows of a
    Canadian forest; they were frost-bitten, hungry, and naked.
    Harriet was their good angel. She kept house for her brother, and
    the poor creatures boarded with her. She worked for them, begged
    for them, prayed for them, with the strange familiarity of
    communion with God which seems natural to these people, and
    carried them by the help of God through the hard winter.
</p>
<p>
    "In the spring she returned to the States, and as usual earned
    money by working in hotels and families as a cook. From Cape May,
    in the fall of 1852, she went back once more to Maryland, and
    brought away nine more fugitives.
</p>
<p>
    "Up to this time she had expended chiefly her own money in these
    expeditions&mdash;money which she had earned by hard work in the
    drudgery of the kitchen. Never did any one more exactly fulfill
    the sense of George Herbert&mdash;
</p>
<center>
<table summary="">
<tr><td>
<pre>
    "'A servant with this clause
      Makes drudgery divine.'
</pre>
</td></tr>
</table>
</center>
<p>
    "But it was not possible for such virtues long to remain hidden
    from the keen eyes of the Abolitionists. She became known to
    Thomas Garrett, the large-hearted Quaker of Wilmington, who has
    aided the escape of three thousand fugitives; she found warm
    friends in Philadelphia and New York, and wherever she went. These
    gave her money, which he never spent for her own use, but laid up
    for the help of her people, and especially for her journeys back
    to the 'land of Egypt,' as she called her old home. By reason of
    her frequent visits there, always carrying away some of the
    oppressed, she got among her people the name of 'Moses,' which it
    seems she still retains.
</p>
<p>
    "Between 1852 and 1857, she made but two of these journeys, in
    consequence partly of the increased vigilance of the slave-holders,
    who had suffered so much by the loss of their property. A
    great reward was offered for her capture and she several times was
    on the point of being taken, but always escaped by her quick wit,
    or by 'warnings' from Heaven&mdash;for it is time to notice one
    singular trait in her character. She is the most shrewd and
    practical person in the world, yet she is a firm believer in
    omens, dreams, and warnings. She declares that before her escape
    from slavery, she used to dream of flying over fields and towns,
    and rivers and mountains, looking down upon them 'like a bird,'
    and reaching at last a great fence, or sometimes a river, over
    which she would try to fly, 'but it 'peared like I wouldn't hab de
    strength, and jes as I was sinkin' down, dere would be ladies all
    drest in white ober dere, and dey would put out dere arms and pull
    me 'cross.' There is nothing strange in this, perhaps, but she
    declares that when she came North she remembered these very places
    as those she had seen in her dreams, and many of the ladies who
    befriended her were those she had been helped by in her vision.
</p>
<p>
    "Then she says she always knows when there is danger near her&mdash;she
    does not know how, exactly, but ''pears like my heart go flutter,
    flutter, and den dey may say "Peace, Peace," as much as dey likes,
    <i>I know its gwine to be war</i>!' She is very firm on this point, and
    ascribes to this her great impunity, in spite of the lethargy
    before mentioned, which would seem likely to throw her into the
    hands of her enemies. She says she inherited this power, that her
    father could always predict the weather, and that he foretold the
    Mexican war.
</p>
<p>
    "In 1857 she made her most venturesome journey, for she brought
    with her to the North her old parents, who were no longer able to
    walk such distances as she must go by night. Consequently she must
    hire a wagon for them, and it required all her ingenuity to get
    them through Maryland and Delaware safe. She accomplished it,
    however, and by the aid of her friends she brought them safe to
    Canada, where they spent the winter. Her account of their
    sufferings there&mdash;of her mother's complaining and her own
    philosophy about it&mdash;is a lesson of trust in Providence better
    than many sermons. But she decided to bring them to a more
    comfortable place, and so she negotiated with Mr. Seward&mdash;then in
    the Senate&mdash;for a little patch of ground. To the credit of the
    Secretary of State it should be said, that he sold her the
    property on very favorable terms, and gave her some time for
    payment. To this house she removed her parents, and set herself to
    work to pay for the purchase. It was on this errand that she first
    visited Boston&mdash;we believe in the winter of 1858-59. She brought a
    few letters from her friends in New York, but she could herself
    neither read nor write, and she was obliged to trust to her wits
    that they were delivered to the right persons. One of them, as it
    happened, was to the present writer, who received it by another
    hand, and called to see her at her boarding-house. It was curious
    to see the caution with which she received her visitor until she
    felt assured that there was no mistake. One of her means of
    security was to carry with her the daguerreotypes of her friends,
    and show them to each new person. If they recognized the likeness,
    then it was all right.
</p>
<p>
    "Pains were taken to secure her the attention to which her great
    services of humanity entitled her, and she left New England with a
    handsome sum of money toward the payment of her debt to Mr.
    Seward. Before she left, however, she had several interviews with
    Captain Brown, then in Boston. He is supposed to have communicated
    his plans to her, and to have been aided by her in obtaining
    recruits and money among her people. At any rate, he always spoke
    of her with the greatest respect, and declared that 'General
    Tubman,' as he styled her, was a better officer than most whom he
    had seen, and could command an army as successfully as she had led
    her small parties of fugitives.
</p>
<p>
    "Her own veneration for Captain Brown has always been profound,
    and since his murder, has taken the form of a religion. She had
    often risked her own life for her people, and she thought nothing
    of that; but that a white man, and a man so noble and strong,
    should so take upon himself the burden of a despised race, she
    could not understand, and she took refuge from her perplexity in
    the mysteries of her fervid religion.
</p>
<p>
    "Again, she laid great stress on a dream which she had just before
    she met Captain Brown in Canada. She thought she was in 'a
    wilderness sort of place, all full of rocks, and bushes,' when she
    saw a serpent raise its head among the rocks, and as it did so, it
    became the head of an old man with a long white beard, gazing at
    her, 'wishful like, jes as ef he war gwine to speak to me,' and
    then two other heads rose up beside him, younger than he,&mdash;and as
    she stood looking at them, and wondering what they could want with
    her, a great crowd of men rushed in and struck down the younger
    heads, and then the head of the old man, still looking at her so
    'wishful.' This dream she had again and again, and could not
    interpret it; but when she met Captain Brown, shortly after,
    behold, he was the very image of the head she had seen. But still
    she could not make out what her dream signified, till the news
    came to her of the tragedy of Harper's Ferry, and then she knew
    the two other heads were his two sons. She was in New York at that
    time, and on the day of the affair at Harper's Ferry she felt her
    usual warning that something was wrong&mdash;she could not tell what.
    Finally she told her hostess that it must be Captain Brown who was
    in trouble, and that they should soon hear bad news from him. The
    next day's newspaper brought tidings of what had happened.
</p>
<p>
    "Her last visit to Maryland was made after this, in December,
    1860; and in spite of the agitated condition of the country, and
    the greater watchfulness of the slave-holders, she brought away
    seven fugitives, one of them an infant, which must be drugged with
    opium to keep it from crying on the way, and so revealing the
    hiding-place of the party."
</p>
<p>
    In the spring of 1860, Harriet Tubman was requested by Mr. Gerrit
    Smith to go to Boston to attend a large Anti-Slavery meeting. On
    her way, she stopped at Troy to visit a cousin, and while there
    the colored people were one day startled with the intelligence
    that a fugitive slave, by the name of Charles Nalle, had been
    followed by his master (who was his younger brother, and not one
    grain whiter than he), and that he was already in the hands of the
    officers, and was to be taken back to the South. The instant
    Harriet heard the news, she started for the office of the United
    States Commissioner, scattering the tidings as she went. An
    excited crowd was gathered about the office, through which Harriet
    forced her way, and rushed up stairs to the door of the room where
    the fugitive was detained. A wagon was already waiting before the
    door to carry off the man, but the crowd was even then so great,
    and in such a state of excitement, that the officers did not dare
    to bring the man down. On the opposite side of the street stood
    the colored people, watching the window where they could see
    Harriet's sun-bonnet, and feeling assured that so long as she
    stood there, the fugitive was still in the office. Time passed on,
    and he did not appear. "They've taken him out another way, depend
    upon that," said some of the colored people. "No," replied others,
    "there stands 'Moses' yet, and as long as she is there, he is
    safe." Harriet, now seeing the necessity for a tremendous effort
    for his rescue, sent out some little boys to cry <i>fire</i>. The bells
    rang, the crowd increased, till the whole street was a dense mass
    of people. Again and again the officers came out to try and clear
    the stairs, and make a way to take their captive down; others were
    driven down, but Harriet stood her ground, her head bent and her
    arms folded. "Come, old woman, you must get out of this," said one
    of the officers; "I must have the way cleared; if you can't get
    down alone, some one will help you." Harriet, still putting on a
    greater appearance of decrepitude, twitched away from him, and
    kept her place. Offers were made to buy Charles from his master,
    who at first agreed to take twelve hundred dollars for him; but
    when this was subscribed, he immediately raised the price to
    fifteen hundred. The crowd grew more excited. A gentleman raised a
    window and called out, "Two hundred dollars for his rescue, but
    not one cent to his master!" This was responded to by a roar of
    satisfaction from the crowd below. At length the officers
    appeared, and announced to the crowd, that if they would open a
    lane to the wagon, they would promise to bring the man down the
    front way.
</p>
<p>
    The lane was opened, and the man was brought out&mdash;a tall,
    handsome, intelligent <i>white</i> man, with his wrists manacled
    together, walking between the U.S. Marshal and another officer,
    and behind him his brother and his master, so like him that one
    could hardly be told from the other. The moment they appeared,
    Harriet roused from her stooping posture, threw up a window, and
    cried to her friends: "Here he comes&mdash;take him!" and then darted
    down the stairs like a wild-cat. She seized one officer and pulled
    him down, then another, and tore him away from the man; and
    keeping her arms about the slave, she cried to her friends: "Drag
    us out! Drag him to the river! Drown him! but don't let them have
    him!" They were knocked down together, and while down, she tore
    off her sun-bonnet and tied it on the head of the fugitive. When
    he rose, only his head could be seen, and amid the surging mass of
    people the slave was no longer recognized, while the master
    appeared like the slave. Again and again they were knocked down,
    the poor slave utterly helpless, with his manacled wrists,
    streaming with blood. Harriet's outer clothes were torn from her,
    and even her stout shoes were pulled from her feet, yet she never
    relinquished her hold of the man, till she had dragged him to the
    river, where he was tumbled into a boat, Harriet following in a
    ferry-boat to the other side. But the telegraph was ahead of them,
    and as soon as they landed he was seized and hurried from her
    sight. After a time, some school children came hurrying along, and
    to her anxious inquiries they answered, "He is up in that house,
    in the third story." Harriet rushed up to the place. Some men were
    attempting to make their way up the stairs. The officers were
    firing down, and two men were lying on the stairs, who had been
    shot. Over their bodies our heroine rushed, and with the help of
    others burst open the door of the room, and dragged out the
    fugitive, whom Harriet carried down stairs in her arms. A
    gentleman who was riding by with a fine horse, stopped to ask what
    the disturbance meant; and on hearing the story, his sympathies
    seemed to be thoroughly aroused; he sprang from his wagon, calling
    out, "That is a blood-horse, drive him till he drops." The poor
    man was hurried in; some of his friends jumped in after him, and
    drove at the most rapid rate to Schenectady.
</p>
<p>
    This is the story Harriet told to the writer. By some persons it
    seemed too wonderful for belief, and an attempt was made to
    corroborate it. Rev. Henry Fowler, who was at the time at
    Saratoga, kindly volunteered to go to Troy and ascertain the
    facts. His report was, that he had had a long interview with Mr.
    Townsend, who acted during the trial as counsel for the slave,
    that he had given him a "rich narration," which he would write out
    the next week for this little book. But before he was to begin his
    generous labor, and while engaged in some kind efforts for the
    prisoners at Auburn, he was stricken down by the heat of the sun,
    and was for a long time debarred from labor.
</p>
<p>
    This good man died not long after and the promised narration was
    never written, but a statement by Mr. Townsend was sent me, which
    I copy here:
</p>
<p>
    <i>Statements made by Martin I. Townsend, Esq., of Troy, who was
    counsel for the fugitive, Charles Nalle.</i>
</p>
<p>
    Nalle is an octoroon; his wife has the same infusion of Caucasian
    blood. She was the daughter of her master, and had, with her
    sister, been bred by him in his family, as his own child. When the
    father died, both of these daughters were married and had large
    families of children. Under the highly Christian national laws of
    "Old Virginny," these children were the slaves of their
    grandfather. The old man died, leaving a will, whereby he
    manumitted his daughters and their children, and provided for the
    purchase of the freedom of their husbands. The manumission of the
    children and grandchildren took effect; but the estate was
    insufficient to purchase the husbands of his daughters, and the
    fathers of his grandchildren. The manumitted, by another
    Christian, "conservative," and "national" provision of law, were
    forced to leave the State, while the slave husbands remained in
    slavery. Nalle, and his brother-in-law, were allowed for a while
    to visit their families outside Virginia about once a year, but
    were at length ordered to provide themselves with new wives, as
    they would be allowed to visit their former ones no more. It was
    after this that Nalle and his brother-in-law started for the land
    of freedom, guided by the steady light of the north star. Thank
    God, neither family now need fear any earthly master or the bay of
    the blood-hound dogging their fugitive steps.
</p>
<p>
    Nalle returned to Troy with his family about July, 1860, and
    resided with them there for more than seven years. They are all
    now residents of the city of Washington, D.C. Nalle and his family
    are persons of refined manners, and of the highest respectability.
    Several of his children are red-haired, and a stranger would
    discover no trace of African blood in their complexions or
    features. It was the head of this family whom H.F. Averill
    proposed to doom to returnless exile and life-long slavery.
</p>
<p>
    When Nalle was brought from Commissioner Beach's office into the
    street, Harriet Tubman, who had been standing with the excited
    crowd, rushed amongst the foremost to Nalle, and running one of
    her arms around his manacled arm, held on to him without ever
    loosening her hold through the more than half-hour's struggle to
    Judge Gould's office, and from Judge Gould's office to the dock,
    where Nalle's liberation was accomplished. In the <i>mêelée</i> she was
    repeatedly beaten over the head with policemen's clubs, but she
    never for a moment released her hold, but cheered Nalle and his
    friends with her voice, and struggled with the officers until they
    were literally worn out with their exertions, and Nalle was
    separated from them.
</p>
<p>
    True, she had strong and earnest helpers in her struggle, some of
    whom had white faces as well as human hearts, and are now in
    Heaven. But she exposed herself to the fury of the sympathizers
    with slavery, without fear, and suffered their blows without
    flinching. Harriet crossed the river with the crowd, in the ferry-boat,
    and when the men who led the assault upon the door of Judge
    Stewart's office were stricken down, Harriet and a number of other
    colored women rushed over their bodies, brought Nalle out, and
    putting him in the first wagon passing, started him for the West.
</p>
<p>
    A lively team, driven by a colored man, was immediately sent on to
    relieve the other, and Nalle was seen about Troy no more until he
    returned a free man by purchase from his master. Harriet also
    disappeared, and the crowd dispersed. How she came to be in Troy
    that day, is entirely unknown to our citizens; and where she hid
    herself after the rescue, is equally a mystery. But her struggle
    was in the sight of a thousand, perhaps of five thousand
    spectators.
</p>
<p>
    On asking Harriet particularly, as to the age of her mother, she
    answered, "Well, I'll tell you, Missus. Twenty-three years ago, in
    Maryland, I paid a lawyer five dollars to look up the will of my
    mother's first master. He looked back sixty years, and said it was
    time to give up. I told him to go back furder. He went back sixty-five
    years, and there he found the will&mdash;giving the girl Ritty to
    his grand-daughter (Mary Patterson), to serve her and her
    offspring till she was forty-five years of age." This grand-daughter
    died soon after, unmarried; and as there was no provision
    for Ritty, in case of her death, she was actually emancipated at
    that time. But no one informed her of the fact, and she and her
    dear children remained in bondage till emancipated by the courage
    and determination of this heroic daughter and sister. The old
    woman must then, it seems, be ninety-eight years of age,[F] and
    the old man has probably numbered as many years. And yet these old
    people, living out beyond the toll-gate, on the South Street road,
    Auburn, come in every Sunday&mdash;more than a mile&mdash;to the Central
    Church. To be sure, deep slumbers settle down upon them as soon as
    they are seated, which continue undisturbed till the congregation
    is dismissed; but they have done their best, and who can doubt
    that they receive a blessing. Immediately after this they go to
    class-meeting at the Methodist Church. Then they wait for a third
    service, and after that start out home again.
</p>
<a name="note-F"><!--Note--></a>
<p class="foot">
<sup><u>F</u></sup>    [ This was written in the year '68, and the old people
    both lived several years after that time.]
</p>
<p>
    Harriet supposes that the whole family were actually free, and
    were kept wrongfully in a state of slavery all those long years;
    but she simply states the fact, without any mourning or lamenting
    over the wrong and the misery of it all, accepting it as the will
    of God, and, therefore, not to be rebelled against.
</p>
<p>
    This woman, of whom you have been reading, is now old and feeble,
    suffering from the effects of her life of unusual labor and
    hardship, as well as from repeated injuries; but she is still at
    work for her people. For many years, even long before the war, her
    little home has been the refuge of the hunted and the homeless,
    for whom she had provided; and I have seen as many as eight or ten
    dependents upon her care at one time living there.
</p>
<p>
    It has always been a hospital, but she feels the need of a large
    one, and only prays to see this, "her last work," completed ere
    she goes hence.
</p>
<p>
    Without claiming any of my dear old Harriet's prophetic vision, I
    seem to see a future day when the wrongs of earth will be righted,
    and justice, long delayed, will assert itself. I seem to see that
    our poor Harriet has passed within "one of dem gates," and has
    received the welcome, "Come, thou blessed of my Father; for I was
    hungry and you gave me meat, I was thirsty and you gave me drink,
    I was a stranger and you took me in, naked and you clothed me,
    sick and in prison and you visited me."
</p>
<p>
    And when she asks, "Lord, when did I do all this?" He answers:
</p>
<p>
    "Inasmuch as you did it unto one of the least of these, <i>my
    brethren</i>, you did it unto me."
</p>
<p>
    And as she stands in her modest way just within the celestial
    gate, I seem to see a kind hand laid upon her dark head, and to
    hear a gentle voice saying in her ear, "Friend, come up higher!"
</p>
<a name="2H_4_5"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
<h2>
    SOME ADDITIONAL INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF "HARRIET."
</h2>
<p>
    The story of this remarkable black woman has been attracting
    renewed interest of late, and I have often been asked to publish
    another edition of the book, and to add some interesting and
    amusing incidents which I have related to my friends.
</p>
<p>
    Harriet is very old and feeble now; she does not know how old, but
    probably between eighty and ninety. Her years of toil and
    adventure have told upon her, and she may not last much longer. If
    she does, she will still need help which she would never ask for
    herself, but which this little book may give her; when she dies,
    it may aid in putting up a fitting monument to her memory, which
    should always be "kept green."
</p>
<p>
    As time goes on, the horrors of the days of slavery are by many
    forgotten, and the children who have been born since the War of
    the Rebellion know of that fearful straggle, and of the causes
    that led to it, only as a tradition of long ago.
</p>
<p>
    Even in the city where Harriet has so long lived her quiet and
    unobtrusive life, it is not an uncommon thing to meet a young
    person who has never even heard her name.
</p>
<p>
    Those who know the principal facts of her eventful history may be
    interested to read these few added incidents, which she has
    related to me from time to time.
</p>
<p>
    A year or two ago, as I was staying at the summer home of my
    brother, Professor Hopkins, on Owasco Lake, Harriet came up to see
    us; it was after lunch, and my brother ordered a table to be set
    for her on the broad shaded piazza and waited on her himself,
    bringing her cups of tea and other good things, as if it were a
    pleasure and an honor to serve her.
</p>
<p>
    There is a quiet dignity about Harriet that makes her superior or
    indifferent to all surrounding circumstances; whether seated at
    the hospitable board of Gerrit Smith or any other white gentleman,
    as she often was, or sent to the kitchen, where the white
    domestics refused to eat with a "nigger," it was all the same to
    Harriet; she was never elated, or humiliated; she took everything
    as it came, making no comments or complaints.
</p>
<p>
    And so she sat quietly eating her lunch, and talking with us.
    After the lunch was over, as we sat on the piazza waiting for the
    steamboat to take her back to Auburn, she said:
</p>
<p>
    "I often think, Missus, of things I wish I had told you before you
    wrote de book. Now, as I come up on de boat I thought of one thing
    thet happened to me when I was very little.
</p>
<p>
    "I was only seven years old when I was sent away to take car' of a
    baby. I was so little dat I had to sit down on de flo' and hev de
    baby put in my lap. An' dat baby was allus in my lap 'cept when it
    was asleep, or its mother was feedin' it.
</p>
<p>
    "One mornin' after breakfast she had de baby, an' I stood by de
    table waitin' till I was to take it; just by me was a bowl of
    lumps of white sugar. My Missus got into a great quarrel wid her
    husband; she had an awful temper, an' she would scole an' storm,
    an' call him all sorts of names. Now you know, Missus, I never had
    nothing good; no sweet, no sugar, an' dat sugar, right by me, did
    look so nice, an' my Missus's back was turned to me while she was
    fightin' wid her husband, so I jes' put my fingers in de sugar
    bowl to take one lump, an' maybe she heard me, an' she turned an'
    saw me. De nex' minute she had de raw hide down; I give one jump
    out of de do', an' I saw dey came after me, but I jes' flew, and
    dey didn't catch me. I ran, an' I ran, an' I run, I passed many a
    house, but I didn't dar' to stop, for dey all knew my Missus an'
    dey would send me back. By an' by, when I was clar tuckered out, I
    come to a great big pig-pen. Dar was an ole sow dar, an' perhaps
    eight or ten little pigs. I was too little to climb into it, but I
    tumbled ober de high board, an' fell in on de ground; I was so
    beat out I couldn't stir.
</p>
<p>
    "An' dere, Missus, I stayed from Friday till de nex' Chuesday,
    fightin' wid dose little pigs for de potato peelin's an" oder
    scraps dat came down in de trough. De ole sow would push me away
    when I tried to git her chillen's food, an' I was awful afeard of
    her. By Chuesday I was so starved I knowed I'd got to go back to
    my Missus, I hadn't got no whar else to go, but I knowed what was
    comin.' So I went back."
</p>
<p>
    "And she gave you an awful flogging, I suppose, Harriet?"
</p>
<p>
    "No, Missus, but <i>he</i> did."
</p>
<p>
    This was all that was said, but probably that flogging left some
    of those scars which cover her neck and back to this day.
</p>
<p>
    Think of a poor little helpless thing seven years old enduring all
    this terror and suffering, and yet few people are as charitable to
    the slave-holders as Harriet. "Dey don' know no better, Missus;
    it's de way dey was brought up. 'Make de little nigs min' you, or
    flog 'em,' was what was said to de chillen, and dey was brought up
    wid de whip in der hand. Now, min' you, Missus, dat wasn't de way
    on all de plantations; dere was good Marsters an' Missuses, as
    I've heard tell, but I didn't happen to come across 'em."
</p>
<p>
    There is frequent mention made in the Memoir of Harriet's firm and
    unwavering trust in God in times of great perplexity or deadly
    peril, when she often had occasion to say, "Vain is the help of
    man, but in God is my help." I have never known another instance
    of such implicit trust and confidence.
</p>
<p>
    Very soon after the Civil War her house was turned into a
    hospital, and no poor helpless creature of her race was ever
    turned from her door. Indeed, all through the war, and through the
    cruel reign of the fugitive slave law, her house was one of the
    depots of the "Underground Railway," as that secret and unseen
    mode of conveying the hunted fugitives was called, and when the
    war was over she established a hospital, which for many years,
    indeed till she was too ill herself to take charge of it, has been
    the refuge of the sufferers of her race who had no earthly
    dependence but Harriet.
</p>
<p>
    Very often this woman, except for her trust in "de Lawd," had had
    no idea where the next meal was to come from, but she troubled
    herself no more about it than if she had been a Vanderbilt or an
    Astor. "De Lawd will provide" was her motto, and He never failed
    her.
</p>
<p>
    One day, in passing through Auburn, I was impelled to stop over a
    train, and drive out to see what were the needs of my colored
    friend, and to take her some supplies.
</p>
<p>
    Her little house was always neat and comfortable, and the small
    parlor was nicely and rather prettily furnished. The lame, the
    halt, and the blind, the bruised and crippled little children, and
    one crazy woman, were all brought in to see me, and "the blind
    woman" (she seemed to have no other name), a very old woman who
    had been Harriet's care for eighteen years, was led into the room&mdash;an
    interesting and pathetic group.
</p>
<p>
    On leaving, I said to her: "If you will come out to the carriage,
    Harriet, there are some provisions there for you."
</p>
<p>
    She turned to one of her poor dependents and said: "What did you
    say to me dis mornin'? You said, 'We hadn't got nothin' to eat in
    de house,' and what did I say to you? I said, 'I've got a rich
    Father!'"
</p>
<p>
    Nothing that comes to this remarkable woman ever surprises her.
    She says very little in the way of thanks, except to the Giver of
    all good. How the knowledge comes to her no one can tell, but she
    seems always to know when help is coming, and she is generally on
    hand to receive it, though it is never for herself she wants it,
    but only for those under her care.
</p>
<p>
    I must not forget to mention the Indian girls of the Fort Wrangel
    School, who, having read a little notice of Harriet in the
    "Evangelist," went to work, and by their daily labor raised
    thirty-seven dollars which they sent to me for Harriet&mdash;and this
    school has been disbanded, and these educated girls have been sent
    back to their wretched homes, because our Government could not
    afford to support it any longer!
</p>
<p>
    Pundita Ramabai went about this time to see Harriet and they had
    an interesting talk together. Here was a remarkable trio taking
    hold of hands&mdash;the woman from East India, the Indian girl from the
    far West, and the black woman from the Southern States only two
    removes from an African savage!
</p>
<p>
    Once when she came to New York, where she had not been in twenty
    years, and was starting off alone to find some friends miles away
    in a part of the city which she had never seen, we remonstrated
    with her, telling her she would surely be lost.
</p>
<p>
    "Now, Missus," she said, "don't you t'ink dis ole head dat done de
    navigatin' down in Egypt can do de navigatin' up here in New
    York?"
</p>
<p>
    And she walked many miles, scorning a "cyar," and found all the
    people she wished to see.
</p>
<p>
    Harriet was known by various names among her Southern friends. One
    of these was "Ole Chariot," perhaps as a rhyme to the name by
    which they called her.
</p>
<p>
    And so, often when she went to bring away a band of refugees, she
    would sing as she walked the dark country roads by night:
</p>
<center>
<table summary="">
<tr><td>
<pre>
    "When dat ar' ole chariot comes,
      Who's gwine wid me?"
</pre>
</td></tr>
</table>
</center>
<p>
    And from some unseen singer would come the response:
</p>
<center>
<table summary="">
<tr><td>
<pre>
    "When dat ar' ole chariot comes,
      I'se gwine wid you."
</pre>
</td></tr>
</table>
</center>
<p>
    And by some wireless telegraphy known only to the initiated it
    would be made known in one cabin or another where their deliverer
    was waiting concealed, and when she would be ready to pilot them
    on their long journey to freedom.
</p>
<p>
    A Woman's Suffrage Meeting was held in Rochester a year or two
    ago, and Harriet came to attend it. She generally attended every
    meeting of women, on whatever subject, if possible to do so.
</p>
<p>
    She was led into the church by an adopted daughter, whom she had
    rescued from death when a baby, and had brought up as her own.
</p>
<p>
    The church was warm and Harriet was tired, and soon after she
    entered deep sleep fell upon her.
</p>
<p>
    Susan B. Anthony and Mrs. Stanton were on the platform, and after
    speeches had been made and business accomplished, one of these
    ladies said:
</p>
<p>
    "Friends, we have in the audience that wonderful woman, Harriet
    Tubman, from whom we should like to hear, if she will kindly come
    to the platform."
</p>
<p>
    People looked around at Harriet, but Harriet was fast asleep.
</p>
<p>
    "Mother! mother!" said the young girl; "they are calling for you,"
    but it was some time before Harriet could be made to understand
    where she was, or what was wanted of her. At length, she was led
    out into the aisle and was assisted by one of these kind ladies on
    to the platform.
</p>
<p>
    Harriet looked around, wondering why so many white ladies were
    gathered there. I think it was Miss Anthony who led her forward,
    saying:
</p>
<p>
    "Ladies, I am glad to present to you Harriet Tubman, 'the
    conductor of the Underground Railroad.'"
</p>
<p>
    "Yes, ladies," said Harriet, "I was de conductor ob de Underground
    Railroad for eight years, an' I can say what mos' conductors can't
    say&mdash;I nebber run my train off de track an' I nebber los' a
    passenger." The audience laughed and applauded, and Harriet was
    emboldened to go on and relate portions of her interesting
    history, which were most kindly received by the assembled ladies.
</p>
<p>
    After the passage of the iniquitous fugitive slave law, Harriet
    removed all her dependents to Canada, and here John Brown and some
    of his followers took refuge with her, and she was his helper and
    adviser in many of his schemes. The papers of that time tell of
    her helping him with his plans and of his dependence upon her
    judgment. In one of his letters he says: "Harriet has hitched on,
    and with all her might; she is a whole team."
</p>
<p>
    For this large party added to her own family of several persons,
    she worked day and night in her usual self-forgetting manner. Her
    old father and mother were with her, and the mother, nearly a
    hundred years old and enfeebled in mind, was querulous and
    exacting, and most unreasonable in her temper, often reproaching
    this faithful daughter as the Israelites did Moses of old, for
    "bringing them up into the wilderness to die there of hunger."
</p>
<p>
    There came a day when everything eatable was exhausted, and the
    prospect was dark, indeed. The old mother had no tobacco and no
    tea&mdash;and these were more essential to her comfort than food or
    clothing; then reproaches thick and fast fell upon Harriet. She
    made no reply, but "went into her closet and shut the door"; when
    she came out she had a large basket on her arm.
</p>
<p>
    "Catharine," she said, "take off dat small pot an' put on a large
    one."
</p>
<p>
    "But, Harriet, der ain't not'ing in de house to eat."
</p>
<p>
    "Put on de large pot, Catharine; we're gwine to have soup to-day"&mdash;and
    Harriet started for the market. The day was nearly over, and
    the market-men were anxious to be rid of their wares, and were
    offering them very cheap. Harriet walked along with the basket on
    her arm. "Old woman, don't you want a nice piece of meat?" called
    out one; and another, "Here's a nice piece; only ten cents. Take
    this soup-bone, you can have it for five cents." But Harriet had
    not five cents. At length a kind-hearted butcher, judging of the
    trouble from her face, said: "Look here, old woman, you look like
    an honest woman; take this soup-bone, and pay me when you get some
    money"; then another said, "Take this," and others piled on pieces
    of meat till the basket was full. Harriet passed on, and when she
    came to the vegetables she exchanged some of the meat for
    potatoes, cabbage, and onions, and the big pot was in requisition
    when she reached home. Harriet had not "gone into her closet and
    shut the door" for nothing.
</p>
<p>
    I hope I may be excused for sometimes telling my story in the
    first person, as I cannot conveniently do it in any other way. In
    getting ready a Thanksgiving box to send to Harriet, a few years
    ago, I had ordered a turkey to be sent for it, but as the weather
    grew quite warm, I was advised to send a ham instead. That box was
    lost for three weeks, and when I saw Harriet again and told her
    that I had intended to send a turkey in it, she said, "Wal, dere
    was a clar Providence in dat, wa'n't dere, Missus?"
</p>
<p>
    A friend, hearing that I was preparing a Christmas box in New York
    for this needy household, sent me a quantity of clothing and ten
    dollars for them. As my box was not quite full, I expended three
    dollars of that money in groceries, and sent seven dollars to a
    lady in Auburn who acted as treasurer for Harriet, giving her
    money as it was needed; for Harriet's heart is so large, and her
    feelings are so easily wrought upon, that it was never wise to
    give her more than enough for present needs.
</p>
<p>
    Not long after, I received a letter from a well-known physician&mdash;a
    woman&mdash;in Auburn, in which she said:
</p>
<p>
    "I want to tell you something about Harriet. She came to me last
    Friday, and said, 'Doctah, I have got my taxes and insurance to
    pay to-morrow, and I haven't a cent. Would you lend me seven
    dollars till next Chuesday?' More to try her than anything else, I
    said, 'Why, Harriet, I'm a poor, hard-working woman myself; how do
    you know you'll pay me seven dollars next Tuesday?' 'Well, Doctah,
    I can't jes' tell you how, but I'll pay you next Chuesday.'" On
    Tuesday my letter with seven dollars enclosed arrived in Auburn,
    and Harriet took the money to the friend who had lent it to her.
    Others thought this strange, but there was nothing strange about
    it to her.
</p>
<p>
    A few years ago, when Harriet called on the writer, she was
    introduced to the husband of one of her daughters lately married.
    He told her how glad he was to see her, as he had heard so much
    about her. She made one of her humble courtesies, and said: "I'm
    pleased to see you, sir; it's de first time I've hed de pleasure
    makin' yo' 'quaintance since you was 'dopted into my fam'bly."
</p>
<p>
    When the turns of somnolence come upon Harriet, her "sperrit," as
    she says, goes away from her body, and visits other scenes and
    places, and if she ever really sees them afterwards they are
    perfectly familiar to her and she can find her way about alone.
    Instances of this kind have lately been mentioned in some of the
    magazines, but Harriet had never heard of them.
</p>
<p>
    Sitting in her house one day, deep sleep fell upon her, and in a
    dream or vision she saw a chariot in the air, going south, and
    empty, but soon it returned, and lying in it, cold and stiff, was
    the body of a young lady of whom Harriet was very fond, whose home
    was in Auburn, but who had gone to Washington with her father, a
    distinguished officer of the Government there.[G]
</p>
<a name="note-G"><!--Note--></a>
<p class="foot">
<sup><u>G</u></sup>    [ William H. Seward.]
</p>
<p>
    The shock roused Harriet from her sleep, and she ran into Auburn,
    to the house of her minister, crying out: "Oh, Miss Fanny is
    dead!" and the news had just been received.
</p>
<p>
    She woke from a sleep one day in great agitation, and ran to the
    houses of her colored neighbors, exclaiming that "a drefful t'ing
    was happenin' somewha', de ground was openin', an' de houses were
    fallin' in, and de people bein' killed faster 'n dey was in de
    wah&mdash;faster 'n dey was in de wah."
</p>
<p>
    At that very time, or near it, an earthquake was occurring in the
    northern part of South America, for the telegram came that day,
    though why a vision of it should be sent to Harriet no one can
    divine.
</p>
<p>
    Her expressions are often very peculiar; some ladies of a certain
    church who had become interested in her wished to see her, and she
    was invited to come to their city, and attended the sewing circle,
    where twenty or thirty of them were gathered together. They asked
    her many questions, and she told stories, sang songs, danced, and
    imitated the talk of the Southern negroes; and went away loaded
    with many tokens of the kind interest of these ladies. On the way
    home she said:
</p>
<p>
    "What nice, kind-lookin' ladies dem was, Missus. I looked in all
    dere faces, an' I didn't see nothin' venomous in one of 'em!"
</p>
<p>
    As has been said, Harriet can neither read nor write; her letters
    are all written by an amanuensis, and she seems to have an idea
    that by laying her hand on this person, her feelings may be
    transmitted to the one to whom she is writing. These feelings are
    sometimes very poetically expressed. I have by me some of those
    letters; in one of them she says: "I lay my hand on the shoulder
    of the writer of this letter, and I wish for you, and all your
    offsprings, a through ticket in the Gospel train to Glory."
</p>
<p>
    In another letter she has dictated this sentence:
</p>
<p>
    "I ask of my Heavenly Father, that when the last trump sounds, and
    my name is called, I may stand close by your side, to answer to
    the call." Probably many of her friends and correspondents might
    contribute facts and incidents in Harriet's life quite as
    interesting as any I have mentioned, but I have no way of getting
    at them.
</p>
<p>
    Harriet had long cherished the idea of having her hospital
    incorporated, and placed in charge of the Zion African Methodist
    Church of Auburn, and she was particularly anxious to come into
    possession of a lot of twenty-five acres of land, near her own
    home, to present to it as a little farm. This lot was to be sold
    at auction, and on the day of the sale Harriet appeared with a
    very little money, and a determination to have the land, cost what
    it might.
</p>
<p>
    "Dey was all white folks but me dere, Missus, and dere I was like
    a blackberry in a pail ob milk, but I hid down in a corner, and no
    one know'd who was biddin'. De man began down pretty low, and I
    kept goin' up by fifties; he got up to twelve hundred, thirteen
    hundred, fourteen hundred, and still dat voice in the corner kept
    goin' up by fifties. At last it got up to fourteen hundred and
    fifty, an' den oders stopped biddin', an' de man said, 'All done!
    who is de buyer?' 'Harriet Tubman,' I shouted. 'What! dat ole
    nigger?' dey said. 'Old woman, how you ebber gwine to pay fer dat
    lot ob land?' 'I'm gwine home to tell de Lawd Jesus all about it,'
    I said."
</p>
<p>
    After telling the Lord Jesus all about it, Harriet went down to a
    bank, obtained the money by mortgaging the land, and then
    requested to have a deed made out, making the land over to the
    Zion African Methodist Church. And her mind is easy about her
    hospital, though with many persons the trouble would be but just
    beginning, as there is interest on the mortgage to be paid.
</p>
<p>
    Though the hospital is no longer on her hands, you will never find
    her without several poor creatures under her care. When I last saw
    her she was providing for five sick and injured ones. A blind
    woman came one day to her door, led by four little children&mdash;her
    husband had turned her out of his house, and like all other poor
    distressed black people, who could get there, she made her way to
    Harriet. Before the next morning a fifth was added to the group.
    As soon as it was possible Harriet dressed the whole six in white
    and took them to a Methodist church and had them baptized.
</p>
<p>
    A little account of this was sent to the "Evangelist," and the
    almost immediate response was seventy-five dollars, which was of
    great benefit in providing for the needs of the growing family.
</p>
<p>
    This faithful creature will probably not live much longer, and her
    like will not be seen again. But through the sale of the last
    edition of her "Memoir," and some other sources of income, her
    wants will be abundantly supplied.
</p>
<p>
    Harriet's friends will be glad to learn that she has lately been
    for some time in Boston, where a surgical operation was performed
    upon her head, the skull (which was crushed by a weight thrown by
    her master more than seventy years before) being successfully
    raised. Harriet's account of this operation is rather amusing.
</p>
<p>
    "Harriet," said Professor Hopkins, "what is the matter with your
    head? Your hair is all gone!"
</p>
<p>
    "Why, dat's where dey shaved it off befo' dey cut my head open."
</p>
<p>
    "Cut your head open, Harriet? What do you mean?"
</p>
<p>
    "Wal, sir, when I was in Boston I walked out one day, an' I saw a
    great big buildin', an' I asked a man what it was, an' he said it
    was a hospital. So I went right in, an' I saw a young man dere,
    an' I said, 'Sir, are you a doctah?' an' he said he was; den I
    said, 'Sir, do you t'ink you could cut my head open?'
</p>
<p>
    "'What do you want your head cut open fer?' he said.
</p>
<p>
    "Den I tol' him de whole story, an' how my head was givin' me a
    powerful sight of trouble lately, with achin' an' buzzin', so I
    couldn' get no sleep at night.
</p>
<p>
    "An' he said, 'Lay right down on dis yer table,' an' I lay down."
</p>
<p>
    "Didn't he give you anything to deaden the pain, Harriet?"
</p>
<p>
    "No, sir; I jes' lay down like a lamb fo' de slaughter, an' he
    sawed open my skull, an' raised it up, an' now it feels more
    comfortable." "Did you suffer very much?"
</p>
<p>
    "Yes, sir, it hurt, ob cose; but I got up an' put on my bonnet an'
    started to walk home, but my legs kin' o' gin out under me, an'
    dey sont fer a ambulance an' sont me home."
</p>
<p>
    It has been hoped that this remarkable experience might result in
    giving Harriet a new lease of life, but I am sorry to say she is
    very feeble, and I fear will not be with us much longer.
</p>
<p>
    Her "through ticket" has long been ready for her, and when her
    last journey is accomplished can we doubt that she will be
    welcomed to one of those many mansions prepared for those who have
    spent their lives in the Master's service?
</p>
<center>
    THE END
</center>
<a name="2HAPP6"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
<h2>
    APPENDIX.
</h2>
<p>
    The following letters to the writer from those well-known and
    distinguished philanthropists, Hon. Gerrit Smith and Wendell
    Phillips, and one from Frederick Douglass, addressed to Harriet,
    will serve as the best introduction that can be given of the
    subject of this memoir to its readers:
</p>
<p>
    <i>Letter from Hon. Gerrit Smith</i>.
</p>
<center>
<table summary="">
<tr><td>
<pre>
                             PETERBORO, <i>June</i> 13, 1868.
</pre>
</td></tr>
</table>
</center>
<p>
    MY DEAR MADAME: I am happy to learn that you are to speak to the
    public of Mrs. Harriet Tubman. Of the remarkable events of her
    life I have no <i>personal</i> knowledge, but of the truth of them as
    she describes them I have no doubt.
</p>
<p>
    I have often listened to her, in her visits to my family, and I am
    confident that she is not only truthful, but that she has a rare
    discernment, and a deep and sublime philanthropy.
</p>
<center>
<table summary="">
<tr><td>
<pre>
                        With great respect your friend,

                                  GERRIT SMITH.

</pre>
</td></tr>
</table>
</center>
<hr>
<p>
    <i>Letter from Wendell Phillips</i>.
</p>
<center>
<table summary="">
<tr><td>
<pre>
                                  <i>June</i> 16, 1868.
</pre>
</td></tr>
</table>
</center>
<p>
    DEAR MADAME: The last time I ever saw John Brown was under my own
    roof, as he brought Harriet Tubman to me, saying: "Mr. Phillips, I
    bring you one of the best and bravest persons on this continent&mdash;
    <i>General</i> Tubman, as we call her."
</p>
<p>
    He then went on to recount her labors and sacrifices in behalf of
    her race. After that, Harriet spent some time in Boston, earning
    the confidence and admiration of all those who were working for
    freedom. With their aid she went to the South more than once,
    returning always with a squad of self-emancipated men, women, and
    children, for whom her marvelous skill had opened the way of
    escape. After the war broke out, she was sent with indorsements
    from Governor Andrew and his friends to South Carolina, where in
    the service of the Nation she rendered most important and
    efficient aid to our army.
</p>
<p>
    In my opinion there are few captains, perhaps few colonels, who
    have done more for the loyal cause since the war began, and few
    men who did before that time more for the colored race, than our
    fearless and most sagacious friend, Harriet.
</p>
<center>
<table summary="">
<tr><td>
<pre>
                             Faithfully yours,

                                  WENDELL PHILLIPS.

</pre>
</td></tr>
</table>
</center>
<hr>
<p>
    <i>Letter from Frederick Douglass</i>.
</p>
<center>
<table summary="">
<tr><td>
<pre>
                             ROCHESTER, <i>August</i> 29, 1868.
</pre>
</td></tr>
</table>
</center>
<p>
    DEAR HARRIET: I am glad to know that the story of your eventful
    life has been written by a kind lady, and that the same is soon to
    be published. You ask for what you do not need when you call upon
    me for a word of commendation. I need such words from you far more
    than you can need them from me, especially where your superior
    labors and devotion to the cause of the lately enslaved of our
    land are known as I know them. The difference between us is very
    marked. Most that I have done and suffered in the service of our
    cause has been in public, and I have received much encouragement
    at every step of the way. You, on the other hand, have labored in
    a private way. I have wrought in the day&mdash;you in the night. I have
    had the applause of the crowd and the satisfaction that comes of
    being approved by the multitude, while the most that you have done
    has been witnessed by a few trembling, scarred, and foot-sore
    bondmen and women, whom you have led out of the house of bondage,
    and whose heartfelt "<i>God bless you</i>" has been your only reward.
    The midnight sky and the silent stars have been the witnesses of
    your devotion to freedom and of your heroism. Excepting John
    Brown&mdash;of sacred memory&mdash;I know of no one who has willingly
    encountered more perils and hardships to serve our enslaved people
    than you have. Much that you have done would seem improbable to
    those who do not know you as I know you. It is to me a great
    pleasure and a great privilege to bear testimony to your character
    and your works, and to say to those to whom you may come, that I
    regard you in every way truthful and trustworthy.
</p>
<center>
<table summary="">
<tr><td>
<pre>
                             Your friend,

                                  FREDERICK DOUGLASS.

</pre>
</td></tr>
</table>
</center>
<hr>
<p>
    <i>Extracts from a Letter written by Mr. Sanborn, Secretary of the
    Massachusetts Board of State Charities.</i>
</p>
<p>
    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.
</p>
<p>
    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.
</p>
<p>
    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.
</p>
<p>
    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
    <i>real</i> 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 <i>white man</i>
    would have raised him to the highest pitch of reputation.
</p>
<p>
    I am, dear Madame, very truly your servant,
</p>
<center>
<table summary="">
<tr><td>
<pre>
                                  F.B. SANBORN.

</pre>
</td></tr>
</table>
</center>
<hr>
<p>
    <i>Letter from Hon. Wm.H. Seward</i>.
</p>
<center>
<table summary="">
<tr><td>
<pre>
                             WASHINGTON, <i>July</i> 25, 1868.
</pre>
</td></tr>
</table>
</center>
<center>
    MAJ.-GEN. HUNTER&mdash;
</center>
<p>
    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.
</p>
<p>
    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.
</p>
<center>
<table summary="">
<tr><td>
<pre>
                             Faithfully your friend,

                                  WILLIAM H. SEWARD.

</pre>
</td></tr>
</table>
</center>
<hr>
<p>
    <i>Letter from Col. James Montgomery</i>.
</p>
<center>
<table summary="">
<tr><td>
<pre>
                        ST. HELENA ISLAND, S.C., <i>July</i> 6, 1863.
                             HEADQUARTERS COLORED BRIGADE.
</pre>
</td></tr>
</table>
</center>
<p>
    BRIG.-GEN. GILMORE, Commanding Department of the South&mdash;
</p>
<p>
    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.
</p>
<p>
    I am, General, your most ob't servant,
</p>
<center>
<table summary="">
<tr><td>
<pre>
                        JAMES MONTGOMERY, Col. Com. Brigade.

</pre>
</td></tr>
</table>
</center>
<hr>
<p>
    <i>Letter from Mrs. Gen. A. Baird</i>.
</p>
<center>
<table summary="">
<tr><td>
<pre>
                             PETERBORO, <i>Nov</i>. 24, 1864.
</pre>
</td></tr>
</table>
</center>
<p>
    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.
</p>
<p>
    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.
</p>
<center>
<table summary="">
<tr><td>
<pre>
                                  MRS. GEN. A. BAIRD.

</pre>
</td></tr>
</table>
</center>
<hr>
<p>
    <i>Letter from Hon. Gerrit Smith</i>.
</p>
<center>
<table summary="">
<tr><td>
<pre>
                             PETERBORO, N.Y., <i>Nov</i>. 4, 1867.
</pre>
</td></tr>
</table>
</center>
<p>
    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.
</p>
<p>
    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.
</p>
<center>
<table summary="">
<tr><td>
<pre>
                                  GERRIT SMITH.

</pre>
</td></tr>
</table>
</center>
<hr>
<p>
    <i>Testimonial from Gerrit Smith</i>.
</p>
<center>
<table summary="">
<tr><td>
<pre>
                             PETERBORO, <i>Nov.</i> 22, 1864.
</pre>
</td></tr>
</table>
</center>
<p>
    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.
</p>
<p>
    I have known Harriet for many years, and I hold her in my high
    esteem.
</p>
<center>
<table summary="">
<tr><td>
<pre>
                                  GERRIT SMITH.

</pre>
</td></tr>
</table>
</center>
<hr>
<p>
    <i>Certificate from Henry K. Durrant, Acting Asst. Surgeon, U.S.A.</i>
</p>
<p>
    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.
</p>
<center>
<table summary="">
<tr><td>
<pre>
                             HENRY K. DURRANT,
                             Acting Assistant Surgeon, U. S. A.
                             In charge "Contraband" Hospital.
</pre>
</td></tr>
</table>
</center>
<p>
    Dated at Beaufort, S.C., the 3d day of May, 1864.
</p>
<p>
    I concur fully in the above.
</p>
<center>
<table summary="">
<tr><td>
<pre>
                             R. SAXTON, Brig.-Gen. Vol.

</pre>
</td></tr>
</table>
</center>
<hr>
<p>
    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.
</p>
<center>
    HEADQUARTERS DEPARTMENT OF THE SOUTH,
</center>
<p>
    HILTON HEAD, PORT ROYAL, S.C., <i>Feb</i>. 19, 1863.
</p>
<p>
    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 Governor Andrew, of Massachusetts, 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.
</p>
<center>
<table summary="">
<tr><td>
<pre>
                             D. HUNTER, Maj.-Gen. Com.

</pre>
</td></tr>
</table>
</center>
<hr>
<p>
    General Gilmore, who succeeded General Hunter in command of the
    Department of the South, appends his signature to the same pass.
</p>
<center>
<table summary="">
<tr><td>
<pre>
HEADQUARTERS OF THE DEPARTMENT OF THE SOUTH,
                             <i>July</i> 1, 1863.
</pre>
</td></tr>
</table>
</center>
<p>
    Continued in force.
</p>
<center>
<table summary="">
<tr><td>
<pre>
                             Q.A. GILMORE, Brig.-Gen. Com.

</pre>
</td></tr>
</table>
</center>
<hr>
<center>
<table summary="">
<tr><td>
<pre>
                             BEAUFORT, <i>Aug</i>. 28, 1862.
</pre>
</td></tr>
</table>
</center>
<p>
    Will Capt. Warfield please let "Moses" have a little Bourbon
    whiskey for medicinal purposes.
</p>
<center>
<table summary="">
<tr><td>
<pre>
                             HENRY K. DURANT, Act. Ass. Surgeon.

</pre>
</td></tr>
</table>
</center>
<hr>
<center>
<table summary="">
<tr><td>
<pre>
WAR DEPARTMENT, WASHINGTON, D. C,
                             <i>March</i> 20, 1865.
</pre>
</td></tr>
</table>
</center>
<p>
    Pass Mrs. Harriet Tubman (colored) to Hilton Head and Charleston,
    S.C., with free transportation on a Government transport,
</p>
<center>
<table summary="">
<tr><td>
<pre>
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.

</pre>
</td></tr>
</table>
</center>
<hr>
<center>
<table summary="">
<tr><td>
<pre>
WAR DEPARTMENT, WASHINGTON, D.C.,
                             <i>July</i> 22, 1865.
</pre>
</td></tr>
</table>
</center>
<p>
    Permit Harriet Tubman to proceed to Fortress Monroe, Va., on a
    Government transport. Transportation will be furnished free of
    cost.
</p>
<center>
<table summary="">
<tr><td>
<pre>
By order of the Secretary of War.
                             L.H., Asst. Adj.-Gen.
Not transferable.

</pre>
</td></tr>
</table>
</center>
<hr>
<center>
<table summary="">
<tr><td>
<pre>
 <i>Appointment as Nurse</i>.
</pre>
</td></tr>
</table>
</center>
<p>
    SIR: I have the honor to inform you that the Medical Director
    Department of Virginia has been instructed to appoint Harriet
    Tubman nurse or matron at the Colored Hospital, Fort Monroe, Va.
</p>
<center>
<table summary="">
<tr><td>
<pre>
                   Very respectfully, your obdt. servant,
                             V.K. BARNES, Surgeon-General.
Hon. WM.H. SEWARD,
                   Secretary of State, Washington, D.C.
</pre>
</td></tr>
</table>
</center>
<p>
    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.
</p>
<p>
    <i>A Letter from Gen. Saxton to a lady of Auburn</i>.
</p>
<center>
<table summary="">
<tr><td>
<pre>
                             ATLANTA, GA., <i>March</i> 21, 1868.
</pre>
</td></tr>
</table>
</center>
<p>
    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.
</p>
<center>
<table summary="">
<tr><td>
<pre>
       I am very truly yours,
                             RUFUS SAXTON, Bvt. Brig.-Gen., U.S.A.
</pre>
</td></tr>
</table>
</center>
<p>
    Rev. Samuel I. May, in his recollections of the anti-slavery
    conflict, after mentioning the case of an old slave mother, whom
    he vainly endeavored to assist her son in buying from her master,
    says:
</p>
<p>
    "I did not until four years after know that remarkable woman
    Harriet, or I might have engaged her services, in the assurance
    that she would have bought off the old woman without <i>paying</i> for
    her inalienable right&mdash;her liberty."
</p>
<p>
    Mr. May in another place says of Harriet, that she deserves to be
    placed <i>first</i> on the list of American heroines, and then proceeds
    to give a short account of her labors, varying very little from
    that given in this book.
</p>
<a name="2H_4_7"><!-- H2 anchor --></a>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
<p>&nbsp;</p>
<h2>
    FUGITIVE SLAVE RESCUE IN TROY.
</h2>
<p>
    From the <i>Troy Whig</i>, April 28, 1859.
</p>
<p>
    Yesterday afternoon, the streets of this city and West Troy were
    made the scenes of unexampled excitement. For the first time since
    the passage of the Fugitive Slave Law, an attempt was made here to
    carry its provisions into execution, and the result was a terrific
    encounter between the officers and the prisoner's friends, the
    triumph of mob law, and the final rescue of the fugitive. Our city
    was thrown into a grand state of turmoil, and for a time every
    other topic was forgotten, to give place to this new excitement.
    People did not think last evening to ask who was nominated at
    Charleston, or whether the news of the Heenan and Sayers battle
    had arrived&mdash;everything was merged into the fugitive slave case,
    of which it seems the end is not yet.
</p>
<p>
    Charles Nalle, the fugitive, who was the cause of all this
    excitement, was a slave on the plantation of B.W. Hansborough, in
    Culpepper County, Virginia, till the 19th of October, 1858, when
    he made his escape, and went to live in Columbia, Pennsylvania. A
    wife and five children are residing there now. Not long since he
    came to Sandlake, in this county, and resided in the family of Mr.
    Crosby until about three weeks ago. Since that time, he has been
    employed as coachman by Uri Gilbert, Esq., of this city. He is
    about thirty years of age, tall, quite light-complexioned, and
    good-looking. He is said to have been an excellent and faithful
    servant.
</p>
<p>
    At Sandlake, we understand that Nalle was often seen by one H.F.
    Averill, formerly connected with one of the papers of this city,
    who communicated with his reputed owner in Virginia, and gave the
    information that led to a knowledge of the whereabouts of the
    fugitive. Averill wrote letters for him, and thus obtained an
    acquaintance with his history. Mr. Hansborough sent on an agent,
    Henry J. Wall, by whom the necessary papers were got out to arrest
    the fugitive.
</p>
<p>
    Yesterday morning about 11 o'clock, Charles Nalle was sent to
    procure some bread for the family by whom he was employed. He
    failed to return. At the baker's he was arrested by Deputy United
    States Marshal J.W. Holmes, and immediately taken before United
    States Commissioner Miles Beach. The son of Mr. Gilbert, thinking
    it strange that he did not come back, sent to the house of William
    Henry, on Division Street, where he boarded, and his whereabouts
    was discovered.
</p>
<p>
    The examination before Commissioner Beach was quite brief. The
    evidence of Averill and the agent was taken, and the Commissioner
    decided to remand Nalle to Virginia. The necessary papers were
    made out and given to the Marshal.
</p>
<p>
    By this time it was two o'clock, and the fact began to be noised
    abroad that there was a fugitive slave in Mr. Beach's office,
    corner of State and First Streets. People in knots of ten or
    twelve collected near the entrance, looking at Nalle, who could be
    seen at an upper window. William Henry, a colored man, with whom
    Nalle boarded, commenced talking from the curb-stone in a loud
    voice to the crowd. He uttered such sentences as, "There is a
    fugitive slave in that office&mdash;pretty soon you will see him come
    forth. He is going to be taken down South, and you will have a
    chance to see him. He is to be taken to the depot, to go to
    Virginia in the first train. Keep watch of those stairs, and you
    will have a sight." A number of women kept shouting, crying, and
    by loud appeals excited the colored persons assembled.
</p>
<p>
    Still the crowd grew in numbers. Wagons halted in front of the
    locality, and were soon piled with spectators. An alarm of fire
    was sounded, and hose carriages dashed through the ranks of men,
    women, and boys; but they closed again, and kept looking with
    expectant eyes at the window where the negro was visible.
    Meanwhile, angry discussions commenced. Some persons agitated a
    rescue, and others favored law and order. Mr. Brockway, a lawyer,
    had his coat torn for expressing his sentiments, and other
    <i>mêlées</i> kept the interest alive.
</p>
<p>
    All at once there was a wild halloo, and every eye was turned up
    to see the legs and part of the body of the prisoner protruding
    from the second story window, at which he was endeavoring to
    escape. Then arose a shout! "Drop him!" "Catch him!" "Hurrah!" But
    the attempt was a fruitless one, for somebody in the office pulled
    Nalle back again, amid the shouts of a hundred pairs of lungs. The
    crowd at this time numbered nearly a thousand persons. Many of
    them were black, and a good share were of the female sex. They
    blocked up State Street from First Street to the alley, and kept
    surging to and fro.
</p>
<p>
    Martin I. Townsend, Esq., who acted as counsel for the fugitive,
    did not arrive in the Commissioner's office until a decision had
    been rendered. He immediately went before Judge Gould, of the
    Supreme Court, and procured a writ of habeas corpus in the usual
    form, <i>returnable</i> immediately. This was given Deputy-Sheriff
    Nathaniel Upham, who at once proceeded to Commissioner Beach's
    office, and served it on Holmes. Very injudiciously, the officers
    proceeded at once to Judge Gould's office, although it was evident
    they would have to pass through an excited, unreasonable crowd. As
    soon as the officers and their prisoner emerged from the door, an
    old negro, who had been standing at the bottom of the stairs,
    shouted, "Here they come," and the crowd made a terrific rush at
    the party.
</p>
<p>
    From the office of Commissioner Beach, in the Mutual Building, to
    that of Judge Gould, in Congress Street, is less than two blocks,
    but it was made a regular battlefield. The moment the prisoner
    emerged from the doorway, in custody of Deputy-Sheriff Upham,
    Chief of Police Quin, Officers Cleveland and Holmes, the crowd
    made one grand charge, and those nearest the prisoner seized him
    violently, with the intention of pulling him away from the
    officers, but they were foiled; and down First to Congress Street,
    and up the latter in front of Judge Gould's chambers, went the
    surging mass. Exactly what did go on in the crowd, it is
    impossible to say, but the pulling, hauling, mauling, and
    shouting, gave evidences of frantic efforts on the part of the
    rescuers, and a stern resistance from the conservators of the law.
    In front of Judge Gould's office the combat was at its height. No
    stones or other missiles were used; the battle was fist to fist.
    We believe an order was given to take the prisoner the other way,
    and there was a grand rush towards the West, past First and River
    Streets, as far as Dock Street. All this time there was a
    continual <i>mêlée</i>. Many of the officers were hurt&mdash;among them Mr.
    Upham, whose object was solely to do his duty by taking Nalle
    before Judge Gould in accordance with the writ of habeas corpus. A
    number in the crowd were more or less hurt, and it is a wonder
    that these were not badly injured, as pistols were drawn and
    chisels used.
</p>
<p>
    The battle had raged as far as the corner of Dock and Congress
    Streets, and the victory remained with the rescuers at last. The
    officers were completely worn out with their exertions, and it was
    impossible to continue their hold upon him any longer. Nalle was
    at liberty. His friends rushed him down Dock Street to the lower
    ferry, where there was a skiff lying ready to start. The fugitive
    was put in, the ferryman rowed off, and amid the shouts of
    hundreds who lined the banks of the river, Nalle was carried into
    Albany County.
</p>
<p>
    As the skiff landed in West Troy, a negro sympathizer waded up to
    the waist, and pulled Nalle out of the boat. He went up the hill
    alone, however, and there who should he meet but Constable Becker!
    The latter official seeing a man with manacles on, considered it
    his duty to arrest him. He did so, and took him in a wagon to the
    office of Justice Stewart, on the second floor of the corner
    building near the ferry. The justice was absent.
</p>
<p>
    When the crowd on the Troy bank had seen Nalle safely landed, it
    was suggested that he might be recaptured. Then there was another
    rush made for the steam ferry-boat, which carried over about 400
    persons, and left as many more&mdash;a few of the latter being soused
    in their efforts to get on the boat. On landing in West Troy,
    there, sure enough, was the prisoner, locked up in a strong
    office, protected by Officers Becker, Brown and Morrison, and the
    door barricaded.
</p>
<p>
    Not a moment was lost. Up stairs went a score or more of resolute
    men&mdash;the rest "piling in" promiscuously, shouting and execrating
    the officers. Soon a stone flew against the door&mdash;then another&mdash;
    and bang, bang! went off a couple of pistols, but the officers who
    fired them took good care to aim pretty high. The assailants were
    forced to retreat for a moment. "They've got pistols," said one.
    "Who cares?" was the reply; "they can only kill a dozen of us&mdash;
    come on." More stones and more pistol-shots ensued. At last the
    door was pulled open by an immense negro, and in a moment he was
    felled by a hatchet in the hands of Deputy-Sheriff Morrison; but
    the body of the fallen man blocked up the door so that it could
    not be shut, and a friend of the prisoner pulled him out. Poor
    fellow! he might well say, "Save me from my friends." Amid the
    pulling and hauling, the iron had cut his arms, which were
    bleeding profusely, and he could hardly walk, owing to fatigue.
</p>
<p>
    He has since arrived safely in Canada.
</p>
<center>
    THE END.
</center>






<pre>





End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Harriet, The Moses of Her People
by Sarah H. Bradford

*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HARRIET, THE MOSES OF HER PEOPLE ***

This file should be named 8htub10h.htm or 8htub10h.zip
Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, 8htub11h.htm
VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, 8htub10ah.htm

Produced by Maria Cecilia Lim, David Widger and PG Distributed Proofreaders

Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US
unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we usually do not
keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.

We are now trying to release all our eBooks one year in advance
of the official release dates, leaving time for better editing.
Please be encouraged to tell us about any error or corrections,
even years after the official publication date.

Please note neither this listing nor its contents are final til
midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement.
The official release date of all Project Gutenberg eBooks is at
Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month.  A
preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment
and editing by those who wish to do so.

Most people start at our Web sites at:
http://gutenberg.net or
http://promo.net/pg

These Web sites include award-winning information about Project
Gutenberg, including how to donate, how to help produce our new
eBooks, and how to subscribe to our email newsletter (free!).


Those of you who want to download any eBook before announcement
can get to them as follows, and just download by date.  This is
also a good way to get them instantly upon announcement, as the
indexes our cataloguers produce obviously take a while after an
announcement goes out in the Project Gutenberg Newsletter.

http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/etext03 or
ftp://ftp.ibiblio.org/pub/docs/books/gutenberg/etext03

Or /etext02, 01, 00, 99, 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90

Just search by the first five letters of the filename you want,
as it appears in our Newsletters.


Information about Project Gutenberg (one page)

We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work.  The
time it takes us, a rather conservative estimate, is fifty hours
to get any eBook selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright
searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc.   Our
projected audience is one hundred million readers.  If the value
per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2
million dollars per hour in 2002 as we release over 100 new text
files per month:  1240 more eBooks in 2001 for a total of 4000+
We are already on our way to trying for 2000 more eBooks in 2002
If they reach just 1-2% of the world's population then the total
will reach over half a trillion eBooks given away by year's end.

The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away 1 Trillion eBooks!
This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers,
which is only about 4% of the present number of computer users.

Here is the briefest record of our progress (* means estimated):

eBooks Year Month

    1  1971 July
   10  1991 January
  100  1994 January
 1000  1997 August
 1500  1998 October
 2000  1999 December
 2500  2000 December
 3000  2001 November
 4000  2001 October/November
 6000  2002 December*
 9000  2003 November*
10000  2004 January*


The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been created
to secure a future for Project Gutenberg into the next millennium.

We need your donations more than ever!

As of February, 2002, contributions are being solicited from people
and organizations in: Alabama, Alaska, Arkansas, Connecticut,
Delaware, District of Columbia, Florida, Georgia, Hawaii, Illinois,
Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Kentucky, Louisiana, Maine, Massachusetts,
Michigan, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, Nevada, New
Hampshire, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York, North Carolina, Ohio,
Oklahoma, Oregon, Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, South Carolina, South
Dakota, Tennessee, Texas, Utah, Vermont, Virginia, Washington, West
Virginia, Wisconsin, and Wyoming.

We have filed in all 50 states now, but these are the only ones
that have responded.

As the requirements for other states are met, additions to this list
will be made and fund raising will begin in the additional states.
Please feel free to ask to check the status of your state.

In answer to various questions we have received on this:

We are constantly working on finishing the paperwork to legally
request donations in all 50 states.  If your state is not listed and
you would like to know if we have added it since the list you have,
just ask.

While we cannot solicit donations from people in states where we are
not yet registered, we know of no prohibition against accepting
donations from donors in these states who approach us with an offer to
donate.

International donations are accepted, but we don't know ANYTHING about
how to make them tax-deductible, or even if they CAN be made
deductible, and don't have the staff to handle it even if there are
ways.

Donations by check or money order may be sent to:

Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
PMB 113
1739 University Ave.
Oxford, MS 38655-4109

Contact us if you want to arrange for a wire transfer or payment
method other than by check or money order.

The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been approved by
the US Internal Revenue Service as a 501(c)(3) organization with EIN
[Employee Identification Number] 64-622154.  Donations are
tax-deductible to the maximum extent permitted by law.  As fund-raising
requirements for other states are met, additions to this list will be
made and fund-raising will begin in the additional states.

We need your donations more than ever!

You can get up to date donation information online at:

http://www.gutenberg.net/donation.html


***

If you can't reach Project Gutenberg,
you can always email directly to:

Michael S. Hart hart@pobox.com

Prof. Hart will answer or forward your message.

We would prefer to send you information by email.


**The Legal Small Print**


(Three Pages)

***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS**START***
Why is this "Small Print!" statement here? You know: lawyers.
They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with
your copy of this eBook, even if you got it for free from
someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our
fault. So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement
disclaims most of our liability to you. It also tells you how
you may distribute copies of this eBook if you want to.

*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS EBOOK
By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm
eBook, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept
this "Small Print!" statement. If you do not, you can receive
a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this eBook by
sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person
you got it from. If you received this eBook on a physical
medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request.

ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM EBOOKS
This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBooks,
is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor Michael S. Hart
through the Project Gutenberg Association (the "Project").
Among other things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright
on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and
distribute it in the United States without permission and
without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth
below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this eBook
under the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark.

Please do not use the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark to market
any commercial products without permission.

To create these eBooks, the Project expends considerable
efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain
works. Despite these efforts, the Project's eBooks and any
medium they may be on may contain "Defects". Among other
things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or
corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other
intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged
disk or other eBook medium, a computer virus, or computer
codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment.

LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES
But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below,
[1] Michael Hart and the Foundation (and any other party you may
receive this eBook from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook) disclaims
all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including
legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR
UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT,
INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE
OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE
POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES.

If you discover a Defect in this eBook within 90 days of
receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any)
you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that
time to the person you received it from. If you received it
on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and
such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement
copy. If you received it electronically, such person may
choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to
receive it electronically.

THIS EBOOK IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS". NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS
TO THE EBOOK OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT
LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A
PARTICULAR PURPOSE.

Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or
the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the
above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you
may have other legal rights.

INDEMNITY
You will indemnify and hold Michael Hart, the Foundation,
and its trustees and agents, and any volunteers associated
with the production and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm
texts harmless, from all liability, cost and expense, including
legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the
following that you do or cause:  [1] distribution of this eBook,
[2] alteration, modification, or addition to the eBook,
or [3] any Defect.

DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm"
You may distribute copies of this eBook electronically, or by
disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this
"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg,
or:

[1]  Only give exact copies of it.  Among other things, this
     requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the
     eBook or this "small print!" statement.  You may however,
     if you wish, distribute this eBook in machine readable
     binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form,
     including any form resulting from conversion by word
     processing or hypertext software, but only so long as
     *EITHER*:

     [*]  The eBook, when displayed, is clearly readable, and
          does *not* contain characters other than those
          intended by the author of the work, although tilde
          (~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may
          be used to convey punctuation intended by the
          author, and additional characters may be used to
          indicate hypertext links; OR

     [*]  The eBook may be readily converted by the reader at
          no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent
          form by the program that displays the eBook (as is
          the case, for instance, with most word processors);
          OR

     [*]  You provide, or agree to also provide on request at
          no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the
          eBook in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC
          or other equivalent proprietary form).

[2]  Honor the eBook refund and replacement provisions of this
     "Small Print!" statement.

[3]  Pay a trademark license fee to the Foundation of 20% of the
     gross profits you derive calculated using the method you
     already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  If you
     don't derive profits, no royalty is due.  Royalties are
     payable to "Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation"
     the 60 days following each date you prepare (or were
     legally required to prepare) your annual (or equivalent
     periodic) tax return.  Please contact us beforehand to
     let us know your plans and to work out the details.

WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO?
Project Gutenberg is dedicated to increasing the number of
public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed
in machine readable form.

The Project gratefully accepts contributions of money, time,
public domain materials, or royalty free copyright licenses.
Money should be paid to the:
"Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."

If you are interested in contributing scanning equipment or
software or other items, please contact Michael Hart at:
hart@pobox.com

[Portions of this eBook's header and trailer may be reprinted only
when distributed free of all fees.  Copyright (C) 2001, 2002 by
Michael S. Hart.  Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be
used in any sales of Project Gutenberg eBooks or other materials be
they hardware or software or any other related product without
express permission.]

*END THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS*Ver.02/11/02*END*



</pre>

</body>
</html>
generated by cgit v1.2.3 (git 2.25.1) at 2025-12-18 01:01:34 +0000