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 products specially for the city market.”
“What can they be purchased for?”
“Anywhere from $5.00 to $10.00 an acre, any amount of them. I tell you there’s money in it.”
“But it would be to ostracise one’s self. You know that there they consider it a disgrace for a white man to labor.”
“All right. All I propose is head work.”
“How is that? Democrat as you are, I don’t believe you would go so far as to invest in slaves.”
“No, indeed. I am fully satisfied that slavery is the curse of the South, yet it exists there, and I am bound to make some money out of it and its fruits. You see the land has been rendered worthless by slave labor in the hands of the masters, hence the extremely low price of it. As a result of the deteriorated condition of their farms, the owners of slaves are now hiring them out for wages which range much lower than with us here in New York. Whilst loathing slavery in the abstract, I confess I propose to use it for a while on wages, if some of my neighbors will join me in a purchase, so we can have a little society of our own. Will you take a hand, Smith?”
“I’ll think of it.”
As a result of the above conversation there were purchased in a few weeks seven or eight worn-out farms in the immediate vicinity of Washington, and in a short time they were occupied by as many sterling families from Onondaga county, N. Y. Modern methods of agriculture were applied, fertilizers were abundantly used, and though slave labor was extensively employed the fields soon yielded luxuriantly, and everything was at high tide with the newcomers, disturbed only by the twinges of conscience at the employment of southern chattel.
Among those who furnished these, was a Mr. Lines, residing just across the Potomac, in Virginia. Of him Mr. Barbour hired a number of slaves, among them a woman named Statie, nearly white, who was the mother of an amiable little girl six or seven years of age, bearing a close resemblance to the children belonging in the Lines mansion. This woman had the privilege of hiring herself out on condition of paying her master $10 per month and clothing herself and child. This she did cheerfully, laying by what she could, under the hope of being able ultimately to buy the freedom of her little girl, Lila, who was permitted to be with her at Mr. Barbour’s where mother and child were both very kindly and considerately treated.
The excellent qualities of Statie as a cook having been noised about, her services were sought for a Washington hotel where much higher wages were paid than Mr. Barbour could afford and he advised her to go, as a means of the sooner freeing her child, which was consequently transferred to the home of her owner, where her services could now be made of some little avail.
At the end of a quarter Statie was permitted to visit home, where she soon learned through a fellow slave that a dealer had been negotiating for Lila and that at his return in a few weeks a price was to be fixed and he was to take her. The heart of the mother was wrung with agony, but the soul of the heroine rose triumphant and she went into the presence of Mr. Lines with a smile upon her face and the cheery words, “Here, Master, are your thirty dollars, and I’ve half as many laid by for the purchase of Lila,” upon her lips.
“Indeed, Statie, you’ve done well. It won’t be long till I’ll have to give the little doll up if you go on at this rate.”
“I hope not, master, for I long to see the darling with her free papers in hand.”
With a lying effort, the master replied, “I hope you may succeed, for I would much sooner sell her to you than to any one else, and I shall wait on you as long as possible.”
Expressing her thanks for what she knew was a hypocritical promise, Statie asked that the child might be allowed to accompany her to the capital for a few days, a request readily granted by Mr. Lines that he might the more easily avert any suspicion of his real purpose.
Cutting short her visit, Statie soon started with her child for the city, but walked several miles out of her way to lay her troubles before Mr. and Mrs. Barbour, who were greatly shocked at the revelation. Though depreciating anything in the line of underground work, Mr. Barbour, to whom Lila had specially endeared herself by her childish ingenuousness, after a few moments reflection said, “Wife, you know I propose making a journey across Pennsylvania soon to the vicinity of our old home. Will there be any harm in my seeing that Lila gets there?”
“No, husband; and you have my permission to see that Statie goes too. I don’t think your politics ought to cripple your humanity, much less your religion. Do unto others as ye would that they should do unto you.”
Mr. Barbour’s mind was soon made up, and Statie was dismissed with instructions to meet him on a by-road a little way out from the old north burial ground soon after dark on the Wednesday evening following.
In arranging for his proposed trip, Mr. Barbour had provided himself with a good team and a “Jersey wagon” well covered with oil cloth, supported by bows. In this wagon he placed a high box so cut down in front as to furnish a seat for himself, and so arranged that a person could sit upright in the hinder part with feet projecting forward. To the rear of this box, were attached doors, secured by a padlock whilst a good supply of straw, clothing and provisions were placed within. When all else was ready, the Jersey was labeled “Clocks,” and Wednesday night Mr. Barbour drove out to the point of rendezvous where Statie and Lila were found waiting, they were immediately placed in their extemporized retreat and the unique emancipation car moved northward across the hills of Maryland at a rapid rate.