From Dixie To Canada - free ebook by H. U. (Homer Uri) Johnson

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From Dixie To Canada

H. U. (Homer Uri) Johnson

54 chapters

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54 chapters

DEDICATION.

DEDICATION.

To the millions of happy grand-children of a generation fast leaving the stage of action, and who must get their knowledge of the Rebellion and its causes from the lips of those who saw and participated or from the pages of history, as we, the grand-parents, got ours of the Revolution from those long since passed away, and from the written records of that thrilling period, this little volume of unique but wonderful history is sincerely and most affectionately dedicated by one of the Grandfathers

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PREFACE.

PREFACE.

The years intervening since the abolition of American slavery leave a majority of our people ignorant of its workings, and of matters connected with it, except as they are gleaned from the pages of history, or from the lips of those now grown old. It is not the purpose of this little volume to discuss the history of the “peculiar institution” in detail, but simply to give so much of it as will make appreciable the cause for another one equally “peculiar,” known for the last twenty years of its e

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INTRODUCTION.

INTRODUCTION.

The quiet of a midsummer night had settled down over the city of Washington, when, in August, 1839, a dusky form came, with stealthy tread, from among some buildings not far away, and cautiously approached the eastern entrance to the Capitol. Laying his hand upon the cold steps in the shadow of the great building, Jim Jones, a colored boy of about seventeen, attentively listened as if in expectation of some preconcerted signal. He had waited but a moment thus, when the hand of a patrol was laid

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I.

I.

So many and varied have been the changes of half a century, and so rapid the growth of the city in the past twenty-five years, that few of the present inhabitants of Washington, and less of its old-time frequenters, now ever think of the cemetery that skirted the stage road leading north from the city. True, in those by-gone days it was a popular burial place, even for the first families of the capital, but like many another “silent city” it long since fell into disuse, and consequently became f

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II.

II.

Once upon the public highway the little party struck out briskly for the railroad upon which they turned their faces towards Baltimore, and following their instructions were making fine progress, when, about midnight, as they were passing around a village the heavens became suddenly overcast with clouds, and for an hour or more they wandered in uncertainty. A halt being called, a lively discussion based upon five different opinions arose, and how it might have terminated no one can tell had not

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III.

III.

Morning came in the city, and soon the absence of the servants from their employers was reported at the plantation, where the non-appearance of Jo had already caused the Colonel to give his daughter a special cursing for “letting that d—d nigger, Jo, have a pass.” Hounds and hunters were at once called into requisition, but all in vain. All about the country was scoured and searched, but Uncle Ben’s field was so public and he so honest, that no one thought of troubling it, or him. Night came, an

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IV.

IV.

All imminent danger from direct pursuit being now over, early on Saturday evening Ben led the boys forth and placed them in charge of a sprightly colored boy about thirteen years of age, whom they were to keep constantly in sight as they passed through Baltimore, and, as he bestowed on them a little money, he said: “Now, boys, follah yer guide, and feah no danjah, and de good Lor’ bress you and bring you safe to freedom.” With nimble steps they passed over the road to the city, and there stopped

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LAVINIA.

LAVINIA.

Apropos of the lamentable exhibitions of mob-violence, court-house burning, Sabbath desecration and election frauds presented by Cincinnati in the past few years, it may not be amiss to give a little exhibition of the spirit there manifested by the men of a past generation and see whence some of her present unenviable reputation comes. The city was well known to be intensely pro-slavery and to her came many a haughty Southron for purposes of business or pleasure, bringing with him more or less o

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A RUSE.

A RUSE.

Serious and earnest as was the work of our railroad, it was made the pretext for many a practical joke and arrant fraud. In the north part of Trumbull county, Ohio, lived an ancient agent named Bartlett, having in his employ a newly married man named DeWitt, a rollocking kind of a fellow, and well calculated to personate a son of Ham, or a daughter as well. DeWitt conspired with his wife and some of the female members of the old gentleman’s family to have a little fun at Mr. Bartlett’s expense.

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VI.

VI.

A year has passed anxiously at Albany with Jo. Rumors reached him that in an attempt to escape, Mary had been captured and sold into the south forever beyond his reach. Gathering up his earnings and bidding his companions good-by, he started rather aimlessly westward, and where he would have brought up no one can tell, had he not one day met a stranger, a pleasant, benevolent looking gentleman, near the village of Versailles, N. Y. It was just at the close of that most hilarious campaign in whic

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VII.

VII.

Ten years and more had passed; the Ellicottville note had been long settled; Jo had laid aside his mission as a lecturer and gone into business in Syracuse, N. Y., where he owned a pleasant home and had a family of intelligent children attending the public school; New York State, like the country at large, had been convulsed over the slavery question, and the city of his adoption had become a town of intensely Abolition sentiment. As the outgrowth of the slavery agitation there had come the enac

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VIII.

VIII.

As an index of Jo’s native quickness of perception, the following excerpts, taken from Pettit’s “Sketches of the Underground Railroad,” published some years ago by W. McKinstry &amp; Son, are added, the only change being that the places where the events are thought to have taken place are given. Jo was a serious, devoted Christian, yet his wit and mirthfulness were often exhibited in keen, sarcastic repartee. At Delanti the question was asked, ‘Did you work hard when you were a slave?’ ‘No!

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THE ORIGINAL “JERRY.”

THE ORIGINAL “JERRY.”

Having given a brief account of the “Jerry Rescue” at Syracuse, a circumstance fraught with momentous consequences, and no inconsiderable factor in precipitating the “Impending Crisis,” I now pass to consider the real original “Jerry Rescue.” In the early summer of 1834, there came to Austinburg, Ohio, a colored man of middle age, of whose escape to Ohio tradition, even, gives little account, only that he was the property of a Baptist deacon who followed him in close pursuit. Both parties upon t

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A COOL WOMAN.

A COOL WOMAN.

Apropos the deliberation of Mr. Austin, there comes an incident from southern Ohio illustrating how cool a woman may be in case of emergency. A slave named Zach had escaped from Virginia and was resting and recuperating himself in the family of a benevolent man in one of the southern counties previously to pursuing his onward course, when one evening the house was surrounded by his owner and a number of other men, and the right of searching the premises demanded. The husband was much agitated an

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I.

I.

Fifty years ago there lived in Caldwell County, Kentucky, a well-to-do individual named Wilson. He owned a large estate, to which were attached numerous slaves. Such was the character of the master that bondage sat lightly upon them. Provident and indulgent, Mr. Wilson allowed his people to do largely as they chose. To them the words of the old plantation song, had much of reality. A SLAVE HUNT. Strangers came and went among them freely; they heard much of the ways of escape northward, of which

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II.

II.

In the autumn of 1856, Jack went with Mr. Bonsall to Pittsburgh. Whilst walking along the street, he met face to face a half-brother of his late master. At first sight he thought it an apparition and turned and ran rapidly away, but not until he was himself recognized. So dextrous had been his motions that he eluded the pursuit immediately instituted and was soon among the hills beyond the city limits. Hand bills minutely describing him were again widely circulated, particularly along the belt o

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III.

III.

Rap, rap, rap, came a knuckle against the door of Thomas Douglass, of Warren, Ohio, in the silent hours of the night. Such occurrences were not frequent of late at the home of the honest Englishman whose love of justice and humanity had risen above all fear of the pains and penalties of an unrighteous law. Hastily dressing himself, he inquired, “Who comes?” “Ol’ Diligence,” a name recognized at once by Mr. Douglass as the appelation of a colored conductor from Youngstown. “Hall right; wat’s aboa

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IV.

IV.

Years ago, even before Wendell Phillips, Abbey Kelley and others of their school began to hurl their bitter anathemas at the institution of slavery, there lived upon a far-reaching Virginia plantation in the valley of the James a man who had taken a truly comprehensive and patriotic view of the institution that was blighting the reputation of his state, as well as impoverishing her soil. He had inherited his fine estate, encumbered by a large number of slaves, and his soul revolted at the idea o

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V.

V.

Whoever was accustomed, a third of a century ago, to travel over the road from Warren, O., to Meadville, Pa., will remember a wayside inn, whose sign bore in German character the euphonious name of “Aughfeultwangher House.” The house itself, like its name, was of German origin, a genuine example of a Dutch farm house, bespeaking both comfort and thrift. The occupants were of the same name as the house, the proprietor being an honest, quiet, well-meaning man, with no special personality. Not so h

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VI.

VI.

True to his promise, before the first cock had sounded the approaching morn on that late October night, Alec reined up at the Aughfeultwangher, and Mr. Young, alighting, rapped at the door, and all questions being satisfactorily answered, Jack was admitted, and the carriage rolled rapidly down to the little village at the foot of Conneaut lake, and at the hotel breakfast was ordered for men and beasts. Having washed themselves, they were waiting the progress of culinary processes in the kitchen,

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VII.

VII.

Immediately on receiving Jack into the house, the good landlady supplied him with an ample dish of provisions and removing the dye tub and other obstructions from the pot-hole pointed him to her bed-room for “zingle shentelmens,” and when he had disappeared, she replaced her pots and kettles, taking care to place the dye tub in which the yarn for family stockings were receiving its finishing tint of blue, in the very mouth of the hole. This done she went about her morning duties and was thus bus

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VIII.

VIII.

Reaching home, Mr. Young immediately wrote Mr. Bishop, as follows:— Piratical craft square rigged, but our wind was good and we holed the duck. (— — —) ‘Mine Got, mine Got, mine Got——for XXX——’ Greeley’s advice. Day and night; day and night; day and night. With an eye to foxes, let ’er slide. On its receipt, Mr. Bishop took the necessary precautions to execute the contents of the letter, and on the third night proceeded to carry them out, being not unaware of the fact that he was closely watched

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IX.

IX.

Two men were standing in their respective doorways in the village of Andover, Ohio, on a November afternoon. The one was a broad-shouldered, full-chested man, with a flowing beard, a merry twinkle in the eye, a kind of devil-may-care negligence in his appearance, with a physique that betokened great power and endurance. This man had long been known technically as “Thribble X” of station “1001,” at Gustavus, Ohio, from which place he had migrated to Andover to proclaim the principles of the Unive

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X.

X.

Watching the departure of the others, Shipman and his charge crossed the road to the eastward, and were soon threading the woodlands bordering the Shenango, and about midnight sought quarters at a friend’s of the elder, not far from Linesville. Arming themselves with heavy walking sticks, just before evening of the next day they set out for Albion. They had not proceeded far before they saw they were to encounter four sinister-looking fellows. “Now, Jack,” said the elder, “You have endured too m

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XI.

XI.

When evening came, time being precious, our conductor drew the reins over Mr. Drury’s best roadsters, and about midnight deposited his passenger at the doorway of an old-fashioned house, with gable to the street, wing projecting northward, and a large elm tree nearly in front, standing on Federal Hill, in what is now South Erie, and for the first time XXX greeted officially a most redoubtable Keystone agent, known as the “Doctor,” in those days one of Erie’s well-known characters. He had gained

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I.

I.

Years ago, before the permanent organization of the Underground Railroad, when the escape of fugitives was largely a haphazard matter, there lived on the sacred soil of Virginia, back a few miles from Wheeling, a pleasant, companionable man, owning a number of slaves, among them one known as “Uncle Jake,” the happy husband of an exemplary wife, who had borne him several children, some of whom they had seen grow to manhood and womanhood, while others still remained with them in the cabin. Uncle J

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II.

II.

Even at that early day, Hartford and Vernon had established for themselves a wide-spread reputation for expertness in the forwarding business . General Bushnell, on account of his age and experience was looked upon as the acknowledged front of affairs, but his work was ably seconded by many others, particularly by two young men, Ralph Plumb, of Burgh Hill, and Levi Sutliff, who still resided with his parents in the north part of Vernon. These young men were ever on the alert for daring enterpris

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III.

III.

One, two, three, ——, ——, ——, ——, ——, ——, ——, ——, twelve, went the clock in the old, low Sutliff mansion; a light two-horse wagon, the bed filled with hay as if covering a “grist,” was backed out of the barn; two strong horses were attached; warm kisses were administered to ruby lips; and a couple of well-wrapped female forms ascended to the seat; a delicately gloved hand laid hold of the lines, and the team sped briskly towards the “Kinsman woods.”...

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IV.

IV.

Deacon Andrews, in the old farm house still standing on the brink of the little ravine south of the hamlet of Lindenville, had put up his morning prayer for the drowning host of Pharaoh, the Greeks, the Romans and the Jews, said “Amen” and arisen from his knees, when his wife, looking out of the window, exclaimed: “See, husband, there’s the Sutliff team; but who is driving? As I live, if it isn’t a couple of girls, and all the way up from Vernon so early as this! What can they want?” “Going to t

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V.

V.

It was high noon at Jefferson, and Ben Wade brought his fist down upon the cover of the volume of Blackstone he had closed, as he arose to go to dinner, and ejaculated, “Who the d—l is that, Gid?” The pleasant, bland countenanced gentleman to whom these words were addressed looked up, and there in front of the little office bearing the unpretentious sign, were two plump, rosy-cheeked girls, each engaged in hitching a horse. “Zounds, Ben, you ought to know your Trumbull county friends. It hasn’t

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VI.

VI.

“Can you direct us to Dr. Harris?” said a sweet voiced girl to a trim, quick-stepping, rather fashionably dressed young gentleman on the street in the little village of Ashtabula, as she reined up a two-horse team. “Hem, ’em ’em, Dr. Harris? ’em, why, that is what they call me.” “Are you the only Dr. Harris in town?” “’Em, yes, Miss. What can I do for you?” The letters of the Jefferson attorneys was placed in his hands. “’Em, hem,” he exclaimed, after reading it. “ Freight! we can not ship now;

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CHAPTER IV. GEORGE GREEN, OR CONSTANCY REWARDED.

CHAPTER IV. GEORGE GREEN, OR CONSTANCY REWARDED.

[The circumstances of the following narrative were partially written up when secured by the author.] “Do you believe you can succeed, George? It is a great undertaking.” “If we can not succeed, Mary, we can try. This servitude is worse than death.” “But our master is very good.” “Yes, master is good and kind, and no harm shall come to him. But no master is as good as freedom.” “But then the whites have all the power on their side.” “The whites, Mary! Who are whiter than we—than you and I? You th

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I.

I.

During the decade of the thirties, and for years afterward, there resided on an affluent of the Rappahannock, in Culpepper county, Virginia, one Solomon Jones. Mr. Jones was the inheritor of an estate with all that term would imply fifty years ago in the “Old Dominion”—numerous slaves, the F. F. V. idea of domination of race, and those false conceptions of right begotten of “chattel” ownership. Though naturally possessed of many excellent traits of character, he was harsh and unrelenting towards

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II.

II.

Immediately a portion of the people of Cadiz found a slave had been incarcerated in the jail for safe keeping, whilst the master was in search of others, they sued out a writ of habeas corpus , and there being none to appear against the prisoner or show cause why he should not be released, he was soon set at liberty by the judge. Grown wiser by experience, he betook himself to the cover of forests, secluded pathways and darkness and all trace of him was soon lost. After a vain search for the oth

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III.

III.

Infused with the hope of making a fortune out of the Morus multicaulis speculation which spread as a craze over the country during the later years of the decade, there came to Massillon, from the east, in 1837, Cyrus Ford, a man of progressive ideas, who soon associated himself with the Quakers of the neighborhood in acts of underground philanthropy. His hopes with regard to mulberry riches failed, but his fears with respect to the ague was more than realized, as he imbibed the dense malarial ex

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IV.

IV.

On Seneca street, in that early day, near the present site of the criminal court rooms stood John Bell’s barber-shop, the more euphonious term, “tonsorial parlors,” being then all unknown. John was a sterling, wide awake darkie, and for years one of the principal forwarding agents in the growing city. To him during the day young Ford applied for transportation for the arrival of the morning, but was informed that matters were entirely too hot to undertake their shipment at that time, but that he

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I.

I.

“I say, Ed, if you get away with me, it will have to be done soon.” “Yes, Massa Coppoc; da’s ’ginnin’ to spishun you right smart.” “I know that, Ed, and if you are ready to strike for freedom to-night, we will see what can be done. If not, I must be off.” “Well, Massa, dis chil’ am ready. Him no lan’ to sell, no truck to ’spose of, no wife an’ chil’n to ’cupy his detention, an’ he ’queaths his ’sitiashun to any one wat wants it.” “Very well, Ed, as soon as all is quiet, meet me at the shed in yo

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II.

II.

Eleven o’clock came, and with it a black cloud , which completely cut off all sight of the twinkling stars from a man who stood pensively listening, beneath an old shed that stood back on the plantation, and from the cloud, “a still small voice saying:” “Is you heah, Massa Coppoc?” “Here, Ed., and now follow me without a word,” saying which he led the way to a pasture field where two fleet horses were soon bridled and saddled, and the two men rode deliberately away. Once out of the neighborhood

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III.

III.

Daylight crept slowly over the Virginian hills, and when it was ascertained that Ed. and the two best horses were gone, there was a commotion indeed. A rally was at once made, and dogs and men put upon the track, and about noon the horses were found near where they had been turned loose, but no trace of the fugitives could be obtained for some little time, owing to the hour in which they took the boat, but at length some one reported having seen two such persons take the night packet up the rive

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IV.

IV.

All apprehension of immediate danger removed, Ed., who, by the advice of Coppoc, assumed the name “Sam,” remained quietly at Mr. Pennock’s for some time, in fact, made it his headquarters for the winter, working for his board and doing odd jobs, from the proceeds of which he purchased some clothes and a long smooth-bore rifle, of which he was passionately fond, and with which he practiced much, often repeating, “I shall put a hole through the man suah, who comes to claim that ’wa’d,” for the who

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V.

V.

Cleveland and vicinity was flooded with circulars, advertising a man, wife and child, who had been traced to that city, and offering a large reward for their delivery to the reputed owner. Friend and foe were alike on the lookout. Efforts were making by the one to secure them a passage across the lake, whilst the other was as assiduously watching every vessel to prevent their escape. Thus matters stood when the man, Martin by name, looking out of an upper window, espied his master among the pass

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VI.

VI.

Night had settled down over village and farm house; Deacon Jehaziel’s evening prayers had been said and he was quietly dreaming of the time and Garlic, just returned from Jefferson, had turned his horse into the pasture, when up to the door of each came a vehicle. Garlic at once recognized the horse of the old Baptist Boanerges, Tinan, from Rome, whilst the deacon was aroused by the quieter voice of his Congregational brother from Gustavus. What transpired from this time until the city of Erie w

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VII.

VII.

In the township of Harbor Creek, Pa., east of the city of Erie, and a short distance out of Wesleyville, was the farm house of Frank Henry, a man of medium size, black hair, eyes of the same hue and sparkling like diamonds, nervous temperament, quick, wiry and the soul of honor and generosity. For a young man he was one of the best known and most efficient conductor-agents in Western Pennsylvania. About midsummer, 1858, he received the following note:— The mirage lifts Long Point into view. Oooo

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VIII.

VIII.

Time passed; the years of the war came and went; peace smiled upon the country; John Brown and young Coppoc slept beneath sodded mounds, whilst the soul of the former went “marching on,” and the genial, generous Henry was keeping the lighthouse on the eastern extremity of Presque Isle, at the entrance of Erie harbor or bay. Going over to the city one day he received a letter bearing the Dominion post-mark. It was without date, and with some difficulty he deciphered the following: I’ze glad ter b

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I.

I.

“Cha’ley, I say Cha’ley, a’ my chil’ns gone ’cept you, and Massa’s done gone an’ sol’ you, and I’ll nebber see you ’gin in a’ dis bressed wu’l’, nebber! nebber!” “Guess not, mudder; ol’ Massa promised you when he put de udders in de coffle to keep me allus.” “Yes, Cha’ley, dat am so, but dis bery mornin’ I hear ’im tell dat unspec’ble trader he’ll sen’ you to him Monday mornin’ shu’ah, an’ dat he mus’ put yer in jail till he start de drove fur down de riber. May de Lor’ help yer my chil’ when ye

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II.

II.

Night, sable goddess, had spread her curtain over earth, and the valleys amid the Alleghenies were sleeping in quiet, when Charley, crawling from his couch, so stealthily, indeed, as not to disturb the early slumbers of his mother, crept softly to the stable, saddled his master’s best steed, noiselessly led it to the public highway beyond the mansion, and, turning its head toward the realm of freedom, mounted, and giving the noble beast the rein, was soon moving with such velocity as to place fi

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III.

III.

The traveler who has been swept along on the Nickle Plate or Lake Shore Rail Road over the Black Swamp country and onward through Cleveland, Ashtabula and Erie, seeing little that savors of roughness, except perchance the gulches about the Forest City, the bluffs at Euclid and Little Mountain in the distance, would little think as he crosses the unpretentious bridges spanning Six-Mile-Creek, east of Erie, that just a little way back it passed through some wild and rugged country; yet such is the

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I.

I.

It was in the decade of the forties that an enterprising farmer, named Barbour, of the Empire State, said to his neighbor, “Smith, I’ve a project in my head.” “Nothing strange in that,” was the response; “I never knew the time when you didn’t have one; but what is it?” “Well, you know I spent a few days about Washington recently, and I believe there is money to be made in going into its vicinity and buying up some of the worn-out farms and applying to them our agricultural methods, and raising p

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II.

II.

It was court time in Warsaw, N. Y., and a large number of people were gathered about the principal hotel when a man holding the reins over a spanking team drove up and ordered accommodations for the team and himself. Beckoning the hostler forward he proceeded with the team. As he passed, a bystander remarked, “A right, royal team, that.” “Pretty good for a peddler,” remarked another. “Do you call that man a peddler?” queried a third. “Didn’t you see ‘Clocks’ on the cover?” came back from No. 2.

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III.

III.

The time was when every person holding an office under the general government was supposed to be in sympathy with the slave power and ready to obey its behests, an idea somewhat erroneous. It was under such impressions that two strangers rode up to the post-office in the village of Attica and inquired for the postmaster. On that functionary’s presenting himself they inquired if he knew anything of a slave woman, nearly white, with her little girl, being in the neighborhood, as such persons had r

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I.

I.

“My deah chile, ’tis too bad.” “Too bad, mother! I tell you I’s agoin’ to run away. Ole Massa can’t whip dis chile no moah. I’d rather be shot or hab the dogs tear me to pieces.” “Hush, chile, hush! you’ll break your ole mudder’s heart, ’cause it’s a’most done gone smashed afore, an’ now she knows you can neber, neber, get across the big river an’ de great lake. I tell yer, chile, you better stay wid ole mas’r if em do whip.” “Mother, my mine is made up. Massa Jones hab whipped George Gray for d

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II.

II.

Thus sang Azel Tracy as he stood running a wheel in his little shop in Hartford, Ohio. The last words were uttered in a subdued tone. This done, the air was continued in a fine specimen of genuine Yankee whistling, intermingled with occasional snatches from “China,” or “Coronation.” It was only a sample of Mr. Tracy’s railroad telegraphy, for the low attic of his shop, filled, in part, with bits of lumber and parts of defunct wagons, was an important station and it frequently became necessary to

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III.

III.

Night, sable goddess, had let her curtains down not only upon a day, but upon a week of toil, for the “Cotter’s Saturday Night” had come to all alike, and the good people of Gustavus, Ohio, had been several hours in the Land of Nod; the dome on the old academy and the spires of the village churches were already casting moonlight shadows eastward, and good old Parson Fenn was dreaming of “Seventeenthly” in to-morrow’s sermon, when there came three distinct raps upon his back door. Such signals we

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IV.

IV.

A company of persons awaiting a western bound train stood chatting with the veteran Seely upon the platform at Girard, Pa. Among them, evidently well up in the sixties, was a man of unusually muscular frame. His countenance was open and pleasant, but mostly enveloped in a heavy beard of almost snowy whiteness. Judging from the appearance of his eyes, he was endowed with a more than average gift of language. Indeed he was the central figure in the company. The “Toledo” rolled up and as the group

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