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

by Laura S. Haviland

The next evening after the nine fugitives were taken northward, they drove a double carriage into an alley near North Street, and the same number of colored people, so closely watched for, were hustled in with haste, and driven off with speed. The call to "Stop, HALT," was not heeded, until the police rushed at the increased cry, "Stop thief, STOP THIEF," and slackened their pace. But while the excited crowd gathered to see the police arrest the thieves, the colored man beside the driver demanded the reason why he and his ladies should receive this insult to hinder their pleasure ride. By throwing a light from their dark lantern in the faces of their pursuers, the hunters they had suspected were recognized, to their great annoyance. There were those among them who would not have been exposed, perhaps, for half the amount of the reward.

A few days subsequent to this little episode I received a letter from Mary, after their arrival at Carthaginia, where she met her daughter, who, with her child, made their party number eleven. They very soon reached the "land of the free." Nothing further was heard from them until I went with my two daughters to Windsor, Canada West, to attend their first of August celebration, in commemoration of West India emancipation. There were gathered a very large congregation in a grove, of both colored and white people. While listening to an eloquent oration delivered by Samuel J. May, of Boston, I was taken from my seat and borne away a few rods, hardly touching the tops of the bushes with my feet. I turned first one way and then the other, until I discovered the sable face of Mary French, with big tears rolling down her cheeks. Not a word was spoken until we were entirely away from the congregation, and I said, "Mary, haven't we gone far enough?" when she let me down, and caught bold of my bands and kissed them, while tears of joy were still falling. "O, how happy we is to be all free. Can't you go to Malden an' see all my family? I knows my man would come all dis way afoot if he knowed you's here." I told her I could not, as I must return the next day with my two daughters.

"Is dey heah?"

"They were sitting by my side," said I; "those two girls dressed in white are my daughters."

"Sweet creturs! de little angels; I mus' go see 'em. I's got two gals here, too, an' I'll bring 'em to see you." And soon her hands were placed on the shoulder of each, still weeping for joy as she said: "God bless you! You tinks it strange to see an old black 'oman come to you like dis, but you wouldn't if you know'd what your mother has done for me an' my family. If it hadn't been for her we should all been in slavery to dis day. I wants you to go out dar whar you see your mother standin' afore a great while. I'm gwine back to her now." She came with her two girls, who were also very demonstrative in shaking and kissing my hands; but they laughed instead of weeping as did their overjoyed mother. By the time my daughters came to us we were served with cake and ice cream. As she and her daughters had on the ground a little stand from which they made sales, their favors in this line were repeated.

Instead of one year's suspension, as we designed, we had deferred finishing our institute building in Michigan from time to time, until four years had elapsed. As the Ohio school law made provision to support a colored school in any town or place where there were as many as fifteen regular scholars, my daughter Anna and myself taught a school for them of one hundred scholars one term, in the basement of Zion Church, Toledo. The expenses were paid from the school fund.

With several fugitives, I started on my way to Toledo from Cincinnati, and spent a day at our friend William Beard's. From thence we were taken to Newport, Indiana, where was a meeting appointed in behalf of Calvin Fairbanks, in which I gave a sketch of my visit to Louisville jail in his behalf. I read the letter I had received from his lawyer on leaving Cincinnati, containing a proposition to do the best he could for him, and with that object in view he staved off the case to the next session of their court. At the close of the meeting fifteen dollars were raised, Bishop Quinn, of the African Methodist Episcopal Church, giving one-third of it. As there was a fall of snow a foot deep, the friends concluded to take us across a swamp, which would save a number of miles; and as there were indications of a thaw, one man offered his team and double sleigh if a certain colored man would go that night and drive it. We were soon well protected from the prospective inclement weather, with the buffalo-robe presented to me, and quilts around the balance of our load.

The shifting wind brought quite a snow-storm, that covered us over about three inches deep. My company being very cold, I advised to stop at a house, the dim light of which was so tempting to the shivering company. I went to the door and asked permission to enter, giving our number, and our object in going through the swamp before a break-up. The two old people granted the favor; but when the old lady saw the color of my company she became rather suspicious. Said she, "If these are slaves we don't want any trouble, because you know the Fugitive-slave Law makes a deal of trouble in some places." I assured her they would have none of that character on our account, for these young people were going with me to attend my school. When we were warmed and the horses fed, we left our kind friends to borrow no more trouble for fear of being disturbed with slave-hunters.

About three o'clock we came to a large half-finished frame house, brilliantly lighted, and the man seemed to be preparing his team for leaving. I called with our driver to see if we could warm ourselves and feed the team, giving our reason for crossing the swamp to save distance, and as there were indications of a thaw in the afternoon, we chose to come through that night. The man said that was his reason for going for a load of lumber so early—he fearing a break-up. They were very kind, and insisted on our resting till daylight, and taking a warm breakfast. The invitation was accepted with gratitude. I spent my time in conversing with our kind hostess, while my company slept an hour.

At nine o'clock we reached Carthaginia. The first one we met was a colored woman, of whom I inquired where we could find a place to tarry for a night, and find provender for our horses. She took in our situation at once, and pointed to a large frame house in sight, the house of Samuel Jones, half a mile distant. While she was giving this information, a man ahead of us, with his carriage, stopped and turned back, saying, "There is Mr. Jones now, coming to see you, I reckon." As he came to us, I told him of the inquiry I made for a resting-place. "And that is my house for you and barn for your horses," he said. After giving each of us a shake of the hand, he said, turning to me, "I know you, though I never saw you before, and I will tell you of a circumstance, after we get home, whereby you will recognize me." We followed him to his very comfortable home. We were soon seated at a luxurious table. Breakfast being over, he related a circumstance in which I had taken a deep interest, and by corresponding, the release from slavery of his relative was effected.