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

by Laura S. Haviland

These fugitives often came five or six miles for me to write letters to their friends in the South, with whom they left a secret arrangement very frequently with white people who were their friends, but secretly, for fear of the ruling power, as were the disciples of Christ who feared the Jews. Their notes, or articles of agreement, were generally brought to me to draft for them.

In six weeks of steady attendance fifteen young men and women could read the second reader, and write a legible hand, and draft a negotiable note. I took a specimen of a number of my scholars' hand-writing to an anti-slavery convention in Cincinnati, Ohio, and left a few with the Rev. John G. Fee, whose life had been threatened if he did not desist from preaching a free gospel in his home State—Kentucky. But the brave Cassius M. Clay told him to go on, and he would go with him. He went to one place from whence he had received repeated threats, and trouble was anticipated; but Cassius walked into the church by his side, and placed the Constitution of the United States on the Bible, and over both his brace of pistols, with which he informed the audience he should protect free speech. At the same time he cast a glance at the threatening group in a farther corner, who left one by one, until the church was cleared of all but eager listeners. Brother Fee said his object in requesting these specimens of the fugitives writing was to exhibit to those who were constantly asserting that negroes could not learn. He wished them to see the legible hand-writing of those who had only six weeks' training from their alphabet.

After spending a few days' vacation, I returned to the toiling day and night in my school. As there were twelve heads of families anxious to read the Bible and hymn-book, and this seemed to be the height of their ambition, I opened an evening school for that class. It was steadily attended four evenings in each week, and this, with one evening devoted to prayer-meeting, filled the week, leaving only one evening free; and frequently they came with their ox-teams to take me three miles to lead a prayer-meeting for them in an adjoining settlement.

The Winter was quite severe, and I frequently was awakened with the snow sifting in my face, and not unfrequently found the snow half an inch or more deep over my bed on rising in the morning; but my health was firm, and I often thought I never enjoyed a year of toiling better than the one I spent here.

There were in this colony a mixed religious element—Baptist, Methodist, Presbyterian, and Free-will Baptist—deeply interested in Sabbath schools and class-meetings, open to all who wished to enjoy them. An organization was proposed. The proposition came from the Methodist element, but I did not deem it wise to organize from any one denomination, as divergent opinions would create controversy that would bring harm to many tender minds. Consequently I proposed to organize a Christian Union Church, without disturbing the Church relationship of any one. I prepared an extract from Gerrit Smith's concise plan of organizing, on a liberal-scale, a Christian Union Church, with but little change, and read it to them; and, after a little discussion and explanation it was readily adopted. I think the number of new converts was thirteen, who expressed a desire to be baptized by immersion. I exhorted them to attend to their own religious impressions, as I was not there to present particular religious tenets, but to present the crucified, risen, and glorified Savior. Brother Foote came and complied with their wish.

I closed my evening school two weeks to hold a series of meetings, in which a young Baptist brother assisted. We all continued to work together for the highest good of all around us.

I noticed a settled sadness in the countenance of a young man of twenty-five years, recently from Missouri. During recess he took but little interest in any thing outside of his book or writing lesson. After attending my school a few days he invited me to go to his boarding-place to spend the night, as he wished me to write a letter for him. I found his history was a sad one. He was sold from his wife and four little children to satisfy a heavy debt. The master tried to reason with him, and the man he owed would not take any of his slaves but him. He called him aside to have further conversation concerning the proposed sale; his wife presented herself also to plead that they might not be separated. Both knelt before him, beseeching with tears to allow them to remain together. Said he, "I tole 'im I'd serve 'im faithfully all the days of my life, if he'd only let us live together; and he seemed to give way a little, and said he did not want to sell me, as I was his foreman, and he thought he would make other arrangements. I watched him closely as I had but little confidence in his words, and armed myself with a dirk. One day he called me to go to the woods with him, to show me the trees he wanted chopped. As I was going I saw the end of a rope under his coat-skirt. I kept at a reasonable distance all the way, and when we came to the tree he wanted I should chop, he attempted to come near me and I stood back; then he told me plainly I must yield. I said I never would permit myself to leave my family, and, if he was so determined, I should never be of any use to any one, for life to me was of no value if I am to be taken from my wife and four little children. At this he, with the other man, who came out of the bushes, ran towards me, but I outran them. About seven miles distant he overtook me with a number of his slave men, and told me I had to give up. I flourished my dirk and told them that I would kill the first man that touched me, or they should kill me. At this they all stood back except the master himself. He flourished his bowie-knife and I my dirk, for the space of a few minutes, when he made a rush upon me, and he met my dirk before I met his bowie-knife. As he fell back I ran for the woods. In the darkness of the night I made my last visit to my wife and little children."

Here he became convulsed with weeping. When he could command his feelings to pursue the sad story, he said:

"Oh, that was an awful parting! The moment I entered my wife's cabin she threw her arms around my neck, exclaiming, 'Oh, my dear Bill, don't stay a minute, for they say you've killed Master Riggs. They say he was dyin' this evenin', and he's dead afore this time, I reckon, an' they swear vengeance on you. Some said they'd chop you in pieces—some said they'd burn you alive.' I told her if God would help me to Canada I would write after awhile to her father (he was free, having bought himself), and may be he could manage to send her and our children to me; and I tore her arms from my neck."

Again he was overcome with grief. I advised him not to write at present. I never saw a more grief-stricken man. He was boarding with Henry Bibb's mother, who said she knew he was a man of deep trouble, "for he looked so sad and groaned so much nights; but I couldn't bear to ask him, because I thought it would be harder for him to forget it." Having been a slave herself, she could easily anticipate the cause of his sadness. Notwithstanding this, he made fair progress in reading, writing, and arithmetic in one term. During this time vigorous efforts were put forth for his capture.