A Woman's Life-Work — Labors and Experiences of Laura S. Haviland

by Laura S. Haviland

But William began to fear all was not right, and regretted having told this man of his condition, and made an errand on deck, as he saw me sitting alone. He told me all he had said to the steersman. I told him to appear very careless, and say nothing, but to appear as if he was going with the steersman, as he had suggested. As we should be in Toledo in three hours, I would go into the city, and the women and George would follow me to a place of safety. Then I would return for my shawl, that I should leave on the boat. By that time, the passengers would all have left, and he and the other young man must remain about the boat. Then I would watch the opportunity, and when I went out, I should turn short corners, but give them time to keep me in sight. Accordingly, I returned for my shawl, but made no haste to leave until those close friends entered a saloon; then was our time; I gave them the wink and left for a place of safety.

After I had put one and two in a place, my next work was to solicit money to pay our fare to Canada, on a boat that was to leave at 9 A. M. the next day. Here were six fares to pay to Detroit, as Sarah had sufficient to pay her own. The friends in Cincinnati had paid their fare to Toledo. It was now nearly night, and I had but little time; but I succeeded by nine o'clock the next morning, leaving a colored man to conduct them to the boat; with hardly five minutes to spare I reached the boat, with my living freight.

Once out in the lake we felt quite secure. Yet there was a possibility of a telegram being sent to William's master, and danger of being overtaken by officers in Detroit. Knowing of their anxiety to see Canada, I waited until we were near enough to see carriages and persons on the road on the other side. When I said to George's wife "There is Canada." "It ain't, is it?" "It is, certainly. It is where no slave-owner can claim his slave." She ran to her husband to tell the good news. But neither he nor the balance of them believed her, and all came running to me. "That ain't Canada, is it?" Being assured that the land of freedom was in full view, with tears of joy they gazed upon their "House of Refuge," and within forty minutes we were there. And to see them leap for joy was rich pay for all my care in their behalf. George and Jake had both armed themselves with deadly weapons, in case of an attempt to capture them, resolving on liberty or death. I left each with fifty cents and returned to my own sweet home.

I found the large building unfinished. As the first buildings were temporary, they were unsuitable for students to occupy another Winter, which would be the eleventh Winter our school had been in successful operation. Brother Patchin, our principal, was called to another field as pastor and teacher, and would go if the new building was not ready for use by the following academic year. While these probabilities were under consideration, brother J. F. Dolbeare was taken from us, after a short illness. As he was an important trustee, and an active Christian worker, his loss was severely felt. We had a few months previously met with a similar loss in the death of another trustee, our valued friend and brother, Elijah Brownell, a minister of the Society of Friends. Surely dark clouds again overhung our favorite institution, in which many of our students were taught in the school of Christ, before they came to us, and many out of the hundreds who had enjoyed the privileges of our school, we had good reasons for believing, yielded their young hearts to the loving Savior's invitation while with us. With the undying interests of the youth so near my heart, it was a trial to have our school suspended a year; but what could I do? I must keep up the ten per cent interest on three hundred dollars of my indebtedness, and could not contract five hundred dollars more to finish the institution building erected on the acre of ground I had given for that object. It was enclosed, and a portion of the floors laid, and doors and windows cased. This had cost over one thousand dollars for a building thirty by fifty-six feet.

As the farm was still carried on by my married children, I concluded to return to Cincinnati and engage in nursing the sick during the cold season, as the cough to which I was subject was returning. All things considered, the conclusion was reached to suspend Raisin Institute one year at least. An Oberlin scholarship was presented me for my daughter Laura Jane, who decided to take a gentleman's collegiate course. Not only my financial pressure seemed to direct toward that more southern field, but the cause of those who were thirsting for liberty, and were almost daily leaving boats or crossing the river, was also a strong incentive to occupy a post near the Southern end of the road whose Northern terminus was in Queen Victoria's dominions.

Many of my friends thought me presuming to venture so near those who had threatened my life repeatedly, and in the hand-bills of the Tennesseans (report said) there was offered $3,000 reward for my head. Thomas K. Chester stated in a letter that he had sent them to a number of the Southern States, to let them know what sort of sisters they had in the North. But J. F. Dolbeare, on the night before his death, called me to his bedside, and, taking my hand in his, said, "Sister Haviland, you have passed through close and trying places in your work, and your anti-slavery mission is not yet finished. Your trials are not over. Greater dangers are for you to pass through—I see it. O, may the Lord prepare you for the work he has for you to accomplish! He has sustained you thus far. He will grant you his protecting arm. I know it." I have often had occasion to remember the words I listened to in that solemn hour, during thirty years that have since passed.

A slave-owner from New Orleans, with his wife, three children, and their nurse, Maria, were bound for Cincinnati. When at Louisville, he was told if he was going to spend the Summer in Cincinnati he'd be sure to lose his servant-girl, "as that city is cursed with free negroes and abolitionists." At this unpleasant information, Champlin and his wife concluded to make their temporary home in Covington, instead of Cincinnati, to the great disappointment of Maria, as she and her husband had been over two years in saving all their little silver pieces, until the amount was one hundred dollars, which was to be used in taking her to Canada.

As this "Northern trip" had been calculated two or three years before, and as they went to no place without their faithful nurse, the slave couple also made their plans. Her husband told her, as she would have a good opportunity to secure her freedom, he would manage to secrete himself on some through boat, and meet her in Canada; and he could go with less money than she could, and insisted upon her taking all they had saved. But after Maria found they were going to hire rooms and board in a hotel in Covington, she went to the trunk that contained her clothes and the children's, and to her great disappointment her hundred dollars, that she had so securely tied in a little rag and rolled in her garments, was taken out by her mistress, who never pretended to go to her trunk for any thing, having no care whatever of her children's wardrobe. But she must hide her feelings by putting on a cheerful face, though she felt as though all her hopes of freedom, of which she had so fondly dreamed, were blasted forever.

She found her task, as usual, was to keep the wardrobe of her mistress and the children in order, and care for the children day and night. A few days elapsed, and she asked her mistress if she would please give her money to purchase herself a pair of shoes, as she heard they were cheaper here than at home. She said she would either get her shoes or give her the money in a few days; but neither shoes nor money came. Two and three weeks passed, and Maria ventured to repeat her request; but the reply was, "Your shoes are good enough for a while yet."

While her master and mistress were over the river, she frequently took the children to the river, to amuse them in looking at boats and in picking up pebbles on the bank, when her longing look was noticed by a white man, who ventured to ask her if she would like to go across the river. She told him, if she did, she had no money to give to any one who would take her. After learning that her master's residence was in New Orleans, he told her, if she would never let any one know that he had ever said or done any thing about helping her, let what would happen, he would take her over without any thing, in the night, whenever she could get away; but if it was ever known there it would ruin him. She promised; and as no one was near, and the three children playing at a little distance, he pointed her to a large root on the bank, under which she could hide, and there wait until she heard a low whistle near the root, when she could come out and step into a skiff without saying a word, and he would muffle the oars so as not to be heard, and take her to a colored family he knew over the river, where she would be safe until they would send her on to Canada.