As soon as possible, after McCreary had escaped from West Nottingham, Joseph C. Miller, William Morris, Abner Richardson, Jesse B. Kirk, and H.G. Coates, started in pursuit on horseback; when they arrived at Perryville, the train had gone, with the kidnapper and the girl; they followed in the next train. Soon after they arrived in Baltimore, they were met by Haines and Wiley, who had been on the lookout for a pursuing party, and they gave the information that Rachel was deposited in Campbell's slave-pen. They were directed by an acquaintance of one of the party, to Francis S. Cochran, a prominent member of the Society of Friends. Francis informed them he was well acquainted with Campbell, and he at once accompained them. Campbell assured Friend Cochran that whilst he approved of Slavery and catching runaway slaves, he despised kidnapping and kidnappers; and on the arrival of McCreary, he ordered him to remove Rachel forthwith, which he proceeded to do. Friend Cochran insisted on going with them, and saw the girl deposited in jail to await a legal investigation. By this time it was evening, and the Chester county men all went home with Cochran, where they had their suppers; the excitement being great, Friend Cochran did not consider it safe for them to go to the depot direct; he procured their tickets and had them driven by a circuitous route to the depot, charging them to keep together, and take their seats in the cars at once. Soon after they were seated and before the cars started, Miller stepped out on the platform to smoke, against the expostulations of his friends. Jesse B. Kirk, his brother-in-law and Abner Richardson followed immediately, and although they were right at his heels, he was gone; they called him by name, and stepped down into the crowd, but soon became alarmed for their own safety, and returned to their seats. A consultation was held, and it was agreed that Wiley, who was least known, and not directly identified with the affair, should pass through the train when it started, and see if Miller had not mistakenly got into another car. At Stemen's Run station, Wiley returned to the party with the sad tidings that Joseph C. Miller was not in that train. On consultation, it was agreed that Jesse B. Kirk and Abner Richardson should return from Perryville in the next train, and prosecute further search for Miller. They did so return, and McCreary also returned to Baltimore in the same car, he having left Baltimore in the car in the evening with the Chester county men; they arrived late in the night, and locked themselves up in a room in the first hotel they came to. Their search was fruitless, and they were forced to return home with the sad tidings that Miller could not be found. This intelligence aroused the whole neighborhood; public meetings were held to consult about what was best to be done. The writer presided at one of those meetings, which was largely attended, and it was with difficulty that the people could be restrained from organizing an armed force to kidnap and lynch McCreary. Better counsels, however, finally prevailed and it was resolved to send a party to Baltimore to prosecute further the search for Miller. About twenty men volunteered for the service; I went to the house of Joseph C. Miller, the morning they were to start, but they had met at Lewis Mellrath's, a brother-in-law of Miller. I was there endeavoring to console the aged mother and distracted wife and children of Joseph C. Miller, when word came that he had been found hanging to a limb in the bushes near Stemen's Run station, and such a scene of distress I hope may never again be my lot to witness; it was heart-rending in the extreme.

The party went to Baltimore, and such was the excitement that it was considered unsafe for the party to go out in a body in day-time. Levi K. Brown, who then resided in Baltimore, went with them by moonlight, and they disinterred the body, which they found about two feet under ground, in a rough box, with a narrow lid that freely admitted the dirt to surround his body in the box. No undertaker in Baltimore could be found that would allow the body left at his place of business whilst a coffin was prepared, and it was deposited in "Friends'" vault; a coffin was finally procured and William Morris and Abner Richardson started with it for his home. When they arrived at Perryville no one would render them any assistance, and they were compelled to leave the corpse in an old saw mill, and walk up to Port Deposit, a distance of five miles, in the night, the weather being extremely cold, and a deep snow on the ground. There they procured horses and a sled and started with the body, but when within a short distance of the Pennsylvania line they were overtaken by a messenger with a requisition from the Governor of Maryland to return the body to Baltimore county, in order that an inquisition and post-mortem examination might be held in legal form. With sorrowful hearts they turned back; (one of these young men told me that at no place south of Port Deposit could they get any one to assist them in handling the corpse). By this time the affair had created a great excitement, both in Chester county and the City of Baltimore. Rev. John M. Dickey, Hon. Henry S. Evans, then a member of the Senate. Brinton Darlington, then Sheriff of Chester county, and very many of the leading men took a deep interest in the matter; we all did our part. The Society of Friends in Baltimore took the matter in hand, and many other worthy citizens belonging to the Presbyterian Church and others lent their aid and influence. Hon. Henry S. Evans, who was then in the Senate of Pennsylvania, brought the matter before the Legislature, and the result was that the Governor appointed Judges Campbell and Bell, the latter of our county, to defend these two poor colored girls thus foully kidnapped.

The body of Miller underwent a post-mortem examination in Baltimore county, at which a great number of rowdies attended, who occupied their time drinking whisky and cursing the Pennsylvania Abolitionists; the body finally reached its distressed home for interment. Drs. Hutchinson and Dickey were called upon to make an examination, at which I was present, and all were clearly of opinion that he had been foully murdered. His wrists and ankles bore the unmistakable marks of manacles; across the abdomen was a black mark as if made by a rope or cord; the end of his nose bore marks as if held by some instrument of torture. His funeral took place, and his remains were followed to the grave by an immense concourse of sympathizing friends and neighbors.

Such, however, was the excitement, that the public demanded a further examination; he was disinterred again, and the same two eminent physicians made a thorough post-mortem examination, and one of them told the writer that there were not two ounces of contents in his stomach and bowels, and that there was abundant evidence of the presence of arsenic. His remains were again interred and suffered to remain undisturbed.

The theory of his friends was that he had been suddenly snatched from the platform of the car in the Baltimore Depot, gagged, stripped, and lashed down by the ankles and wrists, and a rope across his abdomen, that his nose had been held by some instrument, and that he was in this situation drenched with arsenic, and puked and purged to death, and that McCreary, or some one for him, had heard Wiley repeat at Stemen's Run Station, that he was not on the train, conceived the idea of taking his body there and hanging it to a tree to convey the idea that he had committed suicide at that place, and such was the statement published by some of the Maryland newspapers. His companions said he eat a very hearty supper that evening at Francis S. Cochran's, which with the other facts that his clothing were not soiled, and his stomach and bowels were empty, goes strongly to substantiate the theory that he had been stripped and foully murdered, as above indicated. Never was there a more false assertion than that the "broad brimmed Quakers in Pennsylvania were accomplices of McCreary," as it is well known that opposition to slavery has been a cardinal principle of the Society of Friends for a century. And that Joseph C. Miller committed suicide because of his being implicated in the kidnapping is a base fabrication. I knew Joseph C. Miller from boyhood intimately, and I here take pleasure in saying that he was an honest, unassuming man, of good moral character and stern integrity, and would have spurned the idea of any complication, directly or indirectly, with slavery or kidnapping.

It appears his foul murder was not sufficient to satisfy the friends of slavery and kidnapping, but an attempt is now made, after the victim has slumbered near twenty years in the grave, to blast his good name by insinuating that he was a party, or implicated in the vile transactions here narrated.

Rachel remained in jail; Elizabeth, who had been sold to parties in New Orleans, was sent for by Campbell, ample security having been given that she should be returned if proved to be a slave. Their trial finally came on, and after a long and tedious investigation they were both proven, by hosts of respectable witnesses to be free. They returned to their mother, in Chester county, who was still living.

The Grand Jury of Chester county found a true bill against McCreary for kidnapping, a requisition was obtained, and B. Darlington, Esq., then High Sheriff, proceeded with it to Annapolis; but the Governor of Maryland refused to allow McCreary to be arrested in that State.

Thus terminated this terrible affair, which cost the State of Pennsylvania nearly $3000, as well as a heavy expense to many citizens of Baltimore, and those of this county who took an active part, and whilst it is to be hoped that the principal actor in this sad transaction fully atoned for his evil deeds, whilst living, and his friends may have had a right to eulogize him after death, they should not have gone out of their way to traduce other parties, dead and alive, whose reputations were known by living witnesses, to be beyond reproach.

JUSTICE.



* * * * *



ARRIVAL FROM VIRGINIA, 1854.

TUCKER WHITE.

Tucker reported that he fled from Major Isaac Roney, of Dinwiddie Court-House, Virginia, in the Christmas week prior to his arrival; that he reached Petersburg and then encountered difficulties of the most trying nature; he next stopped at City Point, and was equally unfortunate there. From exposure in the cold he was severely frost-bitten. While suffering from the frost he was kept in the poor-house. After partial recovery he made his way to Baltimore and thence to Philadelphia. Once or twice he was captured and carried back. The Committee suspected that he was a cunning impostor who had learned how to tell a tale of suffering simply to excite the sympathies of the benevolent; yet, with the map of Virginia before them, he proved himself familiar with localities adjacent to the neighborhood in which he was raised. Although not satisfied with his statement, the Committee decided to aid him.

Passmore Williamson, who had taken a deep interest in the examination of his case, in order to ascertain the facts, addressed the following note to Major Roney, using as his signature the name of his friend, Wm. J. Canby:

PHILADELPHIA, June 24, 1854.

MAJOR ISAAC RONEY:

DEAR SIR:—Within a few days past a colored man has been traversing the streets of this city, exciting the sympathies of the benevolent by the recital of a tale of the hardships he has lately passed through. He represents himself to be Tucker White, your slave, a carpenter by trade, and that he escaped from your service last Christmas. He is quite dark in complexion, rather over the medium size, and a little lame; the latter, probably, from the effects of frost on his feet, from which, he alleges, he suffered severely.

He seems to be well acquainted with the adjoining localities, but altogether his narrative is almost incredible, and I am therefore induced to make the inquiry whether such a man has escaped from your service or lately left your neighborhood. We are perfectly flooded with such vagrants. It would be a great relief if some measures could be resorted to to keep them under legal restraint. An answer addressed to No. 73 South 4th Street, above Walnut, will reach me, and oblige, Yours, &c.

WM. J. CANBY.

Weeks passed, but no answer came from the Major. All hope was abandoned of obtaining a more satisfactory clue to the history of Tucker White. About three months, however, after Mr. Williamson had written, the appended note came as an answer:

MR. CANBY:

Major Roney received a letter from you relative to his boy, Tucker White, and has sent me here to inquire of you his whereabouts now. If you know anything concerning him and will give me such information so I can get him, you will be rewarded for your trouble. You will please address,

No. 147 American Hotel.

The Major would have sent on sooner but he has been sick, and the letter laid in Office several days.

Mr. Canby was at the time ill, and no attention was paid to the communication. After a day's delay the following note came to hand, but, as in the former instance, no answer was returned.

MR. CANBY:

You will confer a great favor on me by writing me whether you were really the author of a letter to Major Isaac Roney, of Dinwiddie Court House, Va., relative to his boy Tucker White, and if you were the author, please let me know when you last saw him, and where. I called at your office yesterday to see you, but your cousin (I think he said he was) told me you had the cholera, and if you felt well enough you were going to the country to-morrow. I hope you will excuse my writing to you to-day, on that account. I would not know where to direct a letter if I were to wait until to-morrow. If you know anything concerning him and will let me know it, so that I can find and arrest him, you will very much oblige

Yours, &c.,

I.M. TUCKER.

No. 147 American Hotel.

Please write me an answer to-day, so I may know how to proceed to-morrow. If I find him I will be very happy to see you before I leave in behalf of Major Roney, in whose business I am now engaged. I.M.T.

Some one, however, who had a hand in the first letter, referred the Major to Passmore Williamson, Seventh and Arch Streets. To Mr. Williamson's surprise the individual who had addressed Mr. C. appeared at his office with the identical letter in his hand that had been addressed him by Mr. W. (with W.J.C.'s signature.) On addressing Mr. W. he held out the letter and inquired: "Are you the author of this letter, sir?" Mr. W. looked at it and remarked that it appeared to have been written by a man named Canby. "My name is Williamson, but if you will walk in and take a seat I will attend to you in a few moments." Accordingly, after occupying a little time in adjusting some papers, he signified to the stranger that he was ready to answer any of his questions. Said Mr. W., "I say frankly that I am the author of that letter." He then paused for a reply. The stranger then said, "I have come from Virginia in behalf of Major Roney, in search of his boy, Tucker White; the Major was very anxious to recover him, and he would gladly reward Mr. W. or anybody else who would aid him in the matter." He then asked Mr. W. if he knew anything of his whereabouts. Mr. W. replied: "I do not at present; for a long time I have heard nothing of him. I must tell you that I am very sorry that Major Roney gave himself the trouble to send all the way to Philadelphia to re-capture his 'boy Tucker White,' and with regard to giving information or assistance, I know of but one or two men in this city who would be mean enough to stoop to do such dirty work. Geo. F. Alberti, a notorious kidnapper, and E.D. Ingraham, equally as notorious as a counsel of slave-hunters whom everybody here despises, might have served you in this matter. I know no others to recommend; if anybody can find the 'boy,' they can. But should they find him they will be obliged to take legal steps in arresting him before they can proceed. In such a case, instead of assisting Major Roney, I should feel bound to assist Tucker White by throwing every obstacle that I possibly could in the way of his being carried back to Virginia; and to close the matter I wish it to be understood that I do not desire to hold any further correspondence with Major Roney, of Dinwiddie, Virginia, about his 'boy,' Tucker White."



ARRIVAL FROM NORFOLK.

MARY MILLBURN, alias LOUISA F. JONES, ESCAPED IN MALE ATTIRE.

Neither in personal appearance, manners, nor language, were any traces of the Peculiar Institution visible in Mary Millburn. On the contrary, she represented a young lady, with a passable education, and very refined in her deportment. She had eaten the white bread of Slavery, under the Misses Chapman, and they had been singularly kind to her, taking special pains with her in regard to the company she should keep, a point important to young girls, so liable to exposure as were the unprotected young females of the South. She being naturally of a happy disposition, obliging, competent, there was but little room for any jars in the household, so far as Mary was concerned. Notwithstanding all this, she was not satisfied; Slavery in its most dreaded aspect, was all around her, continually causing the heart to bleed and eyes to weep of both young and old. The auction-block and slave-pen were daily in view. Young girls as promising as herself, she well knew, had to be exposed, examined, and sold to the vilest slave-holders living.



With her knowledge of the practical wickedness of the system, how could she be satisfied? It was impossible! She determined to escape. She could be accommodated, but with no favored mode of travel. No flowery beds of ease could be provided in her case, any more than in the case of others. Mary took the Underground Rail Road enterprise into consideration. The opportunity of a passage on a steamer was before her to accept or refuse. The spirit of freedom dictated that she should accept the offer and leave by the first boat. Admonished that she could reach the boat and also travel more safely in male attire she at once said, "Any way so I succeed." It is not to be supposed for a moment, that the effort could be made without encountering a great "fight of affliction." When the hour arrived for the boat to start, Mary was nicely secreted in a box (place), where she was not discovered when the officers made their usual search. On arriving in Philadelphia, she mingled her rejoicings with the Committee in testifying to the great advantage of the Underground Rail Road, and to the carefulness of its agents in guarding against accidents. After remaining a short time in Philadelphia, she made choice of Boston as her future residence, and with a letter of introduction to William Lloyd Garrison, she proceeded thitherward. How she was received, and what she thought of the place and people, may be gleaned from this letter (written by herself.)

BOSTON, May 15th, 1858.

DEAR FRIEND:—I have selected this oppotunity to write you a few lines, hopeing thay may find you and yours enjoying helth and happiness. I arrived hear on Thirsday last, and had a lettor of intoduction giving to me by one of the gentlemen at the Antoslavery office in New York, to Mr. Garrison in Boston, I found him and his lady both to bee very clever. I stopped with them the first day of my arrivel hear, since that Time I have been living with Mrs. Hilliard I have met with so menny of my acquaintances hear, that I all most immagion my self to bee in the old country. I have not been to Canaday yet, as you expected. I had the pleasure of seeing the lettor that you wrote to them on the subject. I suffered much on the road with head ake but since that time I have no reason to complain, please do not for git to send the degarritips in the Shaimpain basket with Dr. Lundys, Mr. Lesley said he will send them by express, tell Julia kelly, that through mistake, I took one of her pocket handkerchift, that was laying on the table, but I shall keep it in remembranc of the onner. I must bring my lettor to a close as I have nothing more to say, and believe me to be your faithfull friend.

LOUISA P. JONES.

P.S. Remember me to each, and every member of your familly and all Enquiring Friends.

Being of an industrious turn she found a situation immediately, and from that day to the present, she has sustained an excellent character in every respect, and as a fashionable dressmaker does a good business.

* * * * *



ARRIVAL OF FIFTEEN FROM NORFOLK, VIRGINIA.

PER SCHOONER—TWICE SEARCHED—LANDED AT LEAGUE ISLAND.

ISAAC FORMAN, HENRY WILLIAMS, WILLIAM SEYMOUR, HARRIET TAYLOR, MARY BIRD, MRS. LEWEY, SARAH SAUNDERS, SOPHIA GRAY, HENRY GRAY, MARY GRAY, WINFIELD SCOTT, and three children.

About the 4th of July, 1856, a message reached the Secretary that a schooner containing fifteen Underground Rail Road passengers, from Norfolk, Virginia, would be landed near League Island, directly at the foot of Broad street, that evening at a late hour, and a request accompanied the message, to the effect that the Committee would be on hand to receive them. Accordingly the Secretary procured three carriages, with trustworthy drivers, and between ten and eleven o'clock at night arrived on the banks of the Schuylkill, where all was quiet as a "country grave-yard." The moon was shining and soon the mast of a schooner was discovered. No sign of any other vessel was then in sight. On approaching the bank, in the direction of the discovered mast, the schooner was also discovered. The hearts of those on board were swelling with unutterable joy; yet even at that dead hour of night, far away from all appearance of foes, no one felt at liberty to give vent to his feelings other than in a whisper. The name of the captain and schooner being at once recognized, the first impulse was to jump down on the deck. Upon second view it was seen that the descent was too great to admit of such a feat. In a moment we concluded that we could pull them up the embankment from the deck by taking hold of their hands as they stood on tip toe.

One after another was pulled up, and warmly greeted, until it came the turn of a large object, weighing about two hundred and sixty pounds, full large enough to make two ordinary women. The captain, who had experienced much inconvenience with her on the voyage, owing to the space she required chuckled over the fact that the Committee would have their hands full for once. Poor Mrs. Walker, however, stretched out her large arms, we seized her hands vigorously; the captain laughing heartily as did the other passengers at the tug now being made. We pulled with a will, but Mrs. Walker remained on the deck. A one horse power was needed. The pullers took breath, and again took hold, this time calling upon the captain to lay-to a helping hand; the captain prepared to do so, and as she was being raised, he having a good foot-hold, placed himself in a position for pushing to the full extent of his powers, and thus she was safely landed. All being placed in the carriages, they were driven to the station and comfortably provided for.

On the voyage they had encountered more than the usual dangers. Indeed troubles began with them before they had set sail from Norfolk. The first indication of danger manifested itself as they stood on the bank of the river awaiting the arrival of a small boat which had been engaged to row them to the schooner. Although they had sought as they supposed a safe place, sufficiently far from the bounds usually traversed by the police; still, in the darkness, they imagined they heard watchmen coming. Just on the edge of the river, opposite where they were waiting, a boat under repairs was in the stocks. In order to evade the advancing foe, they all marched into the river, the water being shallow, and with the vessel for a breastwork hiding them from the shore, there they remained for an hour and a half. They were thoroughly soaked if nothing more. However, about ten o'clock a small oyster boat came to their relief, and all were soon placed aboard the schooner, which was loaded with corn, etc. All, with the exception of the large woman above referred to, and one other female, were required to enter a hole apparently leading through the bottom of the boat, but in reality only a department which had been expressly constructed for the Underground Rail Road business, at the expense of the captain, and in accordance with his own plan.

The entrance was not sufficiently large to admit Mrs. Walker, so she with another female who was thought "too fat" to endure the close confinement, was secreted behind some corn back of the cabin, a place so secluded that none save well-experienced searchers would be likely to find it. In this way the Captain put out to sea. After some fifteen hours he deemed it safe to bring his passengers up on deck where they could inhale pure air which was greatly needed, as they had been next-door to suffocation and death. The change of air had such an effect on one of the passengers (Scott) that, in his excitement, he refused to conform to the orders required; for prudential reasons the Captain, threatened to throw him over-board. Whereupon Scott lowered his tone. Before reaching the lock the Captain supposing that they might be in danger from contact with boats, men, etc., again called upon them "to go into their hole" under the deck. Not even the big woman was excused now. She pleaded that she could not get through, her fellow-sufferers said that she must be got through urging the matter on the ground that they would have great danger to face. The big woman again tried to effect an entrance, but in vain. Said one of the more resolute sisters "she must take off her clothes then, it will never do to have her staying up on deck to betray all the rest;" thus this resolute stand being unanimous, the poor woman had to comply, and except a single garment she was as destitute of raiment as was Mother Eve before she induced Adam to eat of the forbidden fruit in the garden of Eden. With the help of passengers below, she was squeezed through, but not without bruising and breaking the skin considerably where the rub was severest. All were now beneath the deck, the well-fitting oil-cloth was put over the hole covering the cabin-floor snugly, and a heavy table was set over the hole. They are within sight of the lock, but no human beings are visible about the schooner save the Captain, the mate and a small boy, the son of the Captain. At the lock not unexpectedly three officers came on board of the boat and stopped her. The Captain was told that they had received a telegraphic dispatch from Norfolk to the effect that his boat was suspected of having slaves secreted thereon. They talked with the Captain and mate separately for a considerable while, and more closely did they examine the boy, but gained no information except that "the yellow-fever had been raging very bad in Norfolk." At this fever-news the officers were not a little alarmed, and they now lost no time in attending to their official errand. They searched the cabin where the two fat women were first secreted, and other parts of the boat pretty thoroughly. They then commenced taking up the hatchways, but the place seemed so shockingly perfumed with foul air that the men started back and declared that nobody could live in such a place, and swore that it smelt like the yellow-fever; the Captain laughed at them, and signified that they were perfectly welcome to search to their hearts' content. The officers concluded that there were no slaves on that boat, that nobody could live there, etc., etc., asked for their charges ($3), and discharged the Captain. The children had been put under the influence of liquor to keep them still, so they made no noise; the others endured their hour of agony patiently until the lock was safely passed, and the river reached. Fresh air was then allowed them, and the great danger was considered overcome. The Captain, however, far from deeming it advisable to land his live cargo at the wharves of Philadelphia, delivered them at League Island. The passengers testified that Captain B. was very kind. They were noticed thus:



Isaac, was about fifty years of age, dark, tall, well-made, intelligent, and was owned by George Brown, who resided at Deep Creek. Isaac testified that said Brown had invariably treated him cruelly. For thirty years Isaac had hired his time, found himself in food, clothing, and everything, yet as he advanced in years, neither his task, nor his hire was diminished, but on the contrary his hire of late years had been increased. He winced under the pressure, and gave himself up to the study of the Underground Rail Road. While arrangements for fleeing were pending, he broke the secret to his wife, Polly, in whom he trusted; she being true to freedom, although sorrowing to part with him, threw no obstacle in his way. Besides his wife, he had also two daughters, Amanda A. and Mary Jane, both slaves. Nevertheless, having made up his mind not to die a slave, he resolved to escape at all hazards.



Henderson belonged to the estate of A. Briggs, which was about to be settled, and knowing that he was accounted on the inventory as personal property, he saw that he too would be sold with the rest of the movables, if he was not found among the missing.

He began to consider what he had endured as a slave, and came to the conclusion that he had had a "rugged road to hoe all the way along" and that he might have it much worse if he waited to be sold. The voice of reason admonished him to escape for his life. In obeying this call he suffered the loss of his wife, Julia, and two children, who were fortunately free. Henderson was about thirty-one years of age, stout, and of healthy appearance, worth in cash perhaps $1200.



William was thirty-four years of age, of a chestnut color, substantial physical structure, and of good faculties. The man who professed to own him he called William Taylor, and "he was a very hard man, one of the kind which could not be pleased, nor give a slave a pleasant answer one time in fifty." Being thoroughly sick of William Taylor, he fell in love with the Underground Rail Road and Canada.



Mrs. Walker, the big fat woman, was thirty-eight years of age, and a pleasant-looking person, of a very dark hue. Besides the struggles already alluded to, she was obliged to leave her husband. Of her master she declared that she could "say nothing good." His name was Arthur Cooper, of Georgetown; she had never lived with him, however; for twenty years she had hired her time, paying five dollars per month. When young she scarcely thought of the gross wrongs that were heaped upon her; but as she grew older, and thought more about her condition, she scouted the idea that God had designed her to be a slave, and decided that she would be one to leave Dixey in the first Underground Rail Road train that might afford her the chance. She determined not to remain even for the sake of her husband, who was a slave. With such a will, therefore, she started. Upon leaving Philadelphia, she went with the most of her company to Boston, and thence to New Bedford, where she was living when last heard from.



Rebecca Lewey was the wife of a man, who was familiarly known by the name of "Blue Beard," his proper name being Henry Lewey. For a long time, although a slave himself, he was one of the most dexterous managers in the Underground Rail Road agency in Norfolk. No single chapter in this work could be more interesting than a chapter of his exploits in this respect.

The appearing of Mrs. Lewey, was a matter of unusual interest. Although she had worn the yoke, she was gentle in her manners, and healthy-looking, so much so that no life insurance agent would have had need to subject her to medical examination before insuring her. She was twenty-eight years of age, but had never known personal abuse as a slave; she was none the less anxious, however, to secure her freedom. Her husband, Blue Beard, judging from certain signs, that he was suspected by slave-holders, and might at any time be caged, (indeed he had recently been in the lions' den, but got out); in order to save his wife, sent her on in advance as he had decided to follow her soon in a similar manner. Rebecca was not without hope of again meeting her husband. This desire was gratified before many months had passed, as he was fortunate enough to make his way to Canada.



Mary Knight was a single woman, twenty-six years of age, dark, stout, and of pleasing manners; she complained of having been used hard.



Sarah Saunders had been claimed as the property of Richard Gatewood, a clerk in the naval service. According to Sarah he was a very clever slave-holder, and had never abused her. Nor was she aware that he had ever treated any of his servants cruelly. Sarah, however, had not lived in Gatewood's immediate family, but had been allowed to remain with her grandmother, rather as a privileged character. She was young, fair, and prepossessing. Having a sister living in Philadelphia, who was known to the agent in Norfolk, Sarah was asked one day if she would not like to see her sister. She at once answered "Yes." After further conversation the agent told her that if she would keep the matter entirely private, he would arrange for her to go by the Underground Rail Road. Being willing and anxious to go, she promised due obedience to the rules; she was not told, however, how much she would have to pass through on the way, else, according to her own admission, she never would have come as she did; her heart would have failed her. But when the goal was gained, like all others, she soon forgot her sufferings, and rejoiced heartily at getting out of Slavery, even though her condition had not been so bad as that of many others.



Sophia Gray, with her son and daughter, Henry and Mary, was from Portsmouth. The mother was a tall, yellow woman, with well cut features, about thirty-three years of age, with manners indicative of more than ordinary intelligence. The son and daughter were between twelve and fourteen years of age; well-developed for their age, modest, and finely-formed mulattoes. All the material necessary for a story of great interest, might have readily been found in the story of the mother and her children. They were sent with others to New Bedford, Massachusetts. It was not long after being in New Bedford, before the boy was put to a trade, and the daughter was sent to Boston, where she had an aunt (a fugitive), living in the family of the Hon. George S. Hilliard. Mr. and Mrs. Hilliard were so impressed by Mary's intelligent countenance and her appearance generally, that they decided that she must have a chance for an education, and opened their hearts and home to her.

On a visit to Boston, in 1859, the writer found Mary at Mr. Hilliard's, and in an article written for the "Anti-Slavery Standard," upon the condition of fugitive slaves in Boston and New Bedford, allusion was made particularly to her and several others, under this hospitable roof, in the following paragraph:

"On arriving in Boston, the first persons I had the pleasure to converse with, were four or five uncommonly interesting Underground Rail Road passengers, who had only been out of bondage between three and five years. Their intelligent appearance contradicted the idea that they had ever been an hour in Slavery, or a mile on an Underground Rail Road. Two of them were filling trustworthy posts, where they were respected and well paid for their services. Two others were young people (one two, and the other three years out of Slavery), a girl of fifteen, and a boy of twelve, whose interesting appearance induced a noble-hearted Anti-Slavery lady to receive them into her own family, expressly to educate them; and thus, almost ever since their arrival, they have been enjoying this lady's kindness, as well as the excellent equal Free School privileges of Boston. The girl, in the Grammar School (chiefly composed of whites), has already distinguished herself, having received a diploma, with an excellent certificate of character; and the boy, naturally very apt, has made astonishing progress."



The "boy of twelve," alluded to, was not Mary's brother. He was quite a genius of his age, who had escaped from Norfolk, stowed away in a schooner and was known by the name of "Dick Page."

On arriving in Philadelphia, Dick was delivered, as usual, into the hands of the Committee. The extraordinary smartness of the little fellow (only ten years old), astonished all who saw him. The sympathies of a kind-hearted gentleman and his wife, living in Philadelphia, had been deeply awakened in his behalf, through their relative and friend, Mrs. Hilliard, in whose family, as has been already stated, the boy's aunt lived. So much were these friends interested to secure Dick's freedom, that they often contemplated buying him, although they did not like the idea of buying, as the money would go into the pocket of the master, who they considered had no just right to deprive any individual of his freedom. So when Dick arrived the Committee felt that it was as little as they could do, to give these friends the pleasure of seeing the little Underground Rail Road passenger. He was therefore conveyed to the residence of Prof. J.P. Lesley. He could not have been sent to a house in the great city of Brotherly Love, where he would have found a more cordial and sincere reception. After passing an hour or so with them, Dick was brought away, but he had been so touched by their kindness, that he felt that he must see them again, before leaving the city; so just before sundown, one evening, he was missed; search was made for him, but in vain. Great anxiety was felt for him, fearing that he was lost. During the early part of the evening, the writer, with a bell in hand, passed up one street and down another, in quest of the stranger, but no one could give any information of him. Finally about ten o'clock, the mayor's office was visited with a view of having the police stations telegraphed. Soon the mystery was solved; one of the policemen stated that he had noticed a strange colored boy with Professor Lesley's children. Hastening to the residence of the professor, sure enough, Dick was there, happy in bed and asleep.

From that time to this, it has been a mystery to know how a boy, a perfect stranger, could make his way alone, (having passed over the route but once), without getting lost, so circuitous was the road that he had to travel, in order to reach Professor Lesley's house. Having said this much, the way is now open to refer to him again, in Boston at school. He was generously assisted through his education and trade, and was prepared to commence life at his majority, an intelligent mechanic, and a man of promise.



THE CASE OF EUPHEMIA WILLIAMS,

CLAIMED AS A FUGITIVE SLAVE UNDER THE FUGITIVE SLAVE-LAW AFTER HAVING LIVED IN PENNSYLVANIA FOR MORE THAN TWENTY YEARS.

Scarcely had the infamous statute been in existence six months, ere the worst predictions of the friends of the slave were fulfilled in different Northern States. It is hardly too much to say, that Pennsylvania was considered wholly unsafe to nine-tenths of her colored population. The kidnapper is fully shown in the case of Rachel and Elizabeth Parker as he appeared on the soil of Pennsylvania, doing his vile work in the dead of night, entering the homes of unprotected females and children, therefore:

The case of Euphemia Williams will serve to represent the milder form of kidnapping in open day, in the name of the law, by professed Christians in the city of Brotherly Love, and the home of William Penn.

February 6, 1851, Euphemia Williams, the mother of six children, the youngest at the breast, was arrested in the upper part of the city (Philadelphia), and hurried before Edward D. Ingraham, a United States commissioner, upon the charge of being a fugitive from labor. She was claimed by William T.J. Purnell, of Worcester county, Maryland, who admitted that she had been away from him for twenty-two years, or since 1829. Her offspring were born on the soil of Pennsylvania, and the eldest daughter was seventeen years of age.

Euphemia was living in her own house, and had been a member of church, in good and regular standing, for about seventeen years, and was about forty years of age. When the arrest was made, Euphemia had just risen from her bed, and was only partly dressed, when a little after daylight, several persons entered her room, and arrested her. Murder! murder! was cried lustily, and awakened the house. Her children screamed lamentably, and her eldest daughter cried "They've got my mother! they've got my mother!" "For God's sake, save me," cried Euphemia, to a woman in the second story, who was an eye-witness to this monstrous outrage. But despite the piteous appeals of the mother and children, the poor woman was hastened into a cab, and borne to the marshall's office.

Through the vigilance of J.M. McKim and Passmore Williamson, a writ of habeas corpus returnable forthwith was obtained at about one o'clock. The heart-broken mother was surrounded by five of her children, three of whom were infants. It was a dark and dreadful hour. When her children were brought into the room where she was detained, great drops of sweat standing on her face plainly indicated her agony.

By mutual arrangement between the claimants and the prisoner's counsel the hearing was fixed for the next day, at the hour of three o'clock. According to said arrangement, at three o'clock Euphemia was brought face to face with her claimant, William T.J. Purnell. The news had already gone out that the trial would come off at the time fixed; hence a multitude were on hand to witness the proceedings in the case. The sympathy of anti-slavery ladies was excited, and many were present in the court-room to manifest their feelings in behalf of the stricken woman. The eloquent David Paul Brown (the terror of slave-hunters) and William S. Pierce, Esqrs., appeared for Euphemia, R.C. McMurtrie, Esq., for the claimant.

Mr. McMurtrie in the outset, arose and said, that it was with extreme regret that he saw an attempt to influence the decision of this case by tumult and agitation. The sympathy shown by so many friendly ladies, was not a favorable sign for the slave-holder. Notwithstanding, Mr. McMurtrie said that he would "prove that Mahala, sometimes called Mahala Purnell, was born and bred a slave of Dr. George W. Purnell, of Worcester county, Maryland, who was in the habit of hiring her to the neighbors, and while under a contract of hiring, she escaped with a boy, with whom she had taken up, belonging to the person who hired her." The present claimant claimed her as the administrator of Dr. George W. Purnell.

In order to sustain this claim many witnesses and much positive swearing were called forth. Robert F. Bowen, the first witness, swore that he knew both Mahala and her master perfectly well, that he had worked as a carpenter in helping to build a house for the latter, and also had hired the former directly from her owner.

Definite time and circumstances were all harmoniously fixed by this leading witness. One of the important circumstances which afforded him ground for being positive was, as he testified on cross-examination, that he was from home at a camp-meeting (when she run away); "our camp-meetings," said the witness, "are held in the last of August or the first of September; the year I fix by founding it upon knowledge; the year before she ran away, I professed religion; I have something at home to fix the year; she was with me a part of a year. I hired her for the year 1848 as a house servant; I hired her directly from Dr. George W. Purnell. When she ran away I proceeded after her. I advertised, in Delaware in written advertisements, in Georgetown, Milford and Millsborough, and described her and the boy; her general features. I have not the advertisement and can't tell how she was described; Dr. George Purnell united with me in the advertisement. I followed her to Delaware City; that's all I have done since, about inquiring after them. I came, after twenty-two years' absence, to seek my own rights, and as an evidence for my friend. I have not seen her more than once since she ran away, until she was arrested; I saw her two or three times in court. I saw her first in a wretched-looking room, at Fifth and Germantown Road; it was yesterday morning; it was the evening before at Congress Hall; I arrived here last Tuesday a week; a man told me where she was"—"I beg the court,"—here Mr. McMurtrie interposed an objection to his mentioning the person. The court, however, said the question could be put.

Witness.—I was pledged not to tell the name; the person signed her name Louisa Truit; the information was got by letter; the reason I did not tell, because I thought she might be murdered; I have not the letters, and can't tell the contents; the letter that I received required a pledge that I would not tell: I was directed to send my letter to the post-office without any definite place; the representative of Louisa Truit was a man; I saw him in Market street between Third and Fourth, at Taylor and Paulding's store, in the course of last week; I was brought into contact with the representative of Louisa by appointment in the letter, to get the information; I never heard him tell his name; he was neither colored nor white; we call them with us mixed blood; (I should take you to be colored, said the witness to Mr. Brown.) I suppose he lives somewhere up there; I saw him at my room the next morning; I did not learn from him who wrote the letter; he did not describe the person of the woman in the letter written to me, only her general appearance; Purnell said he burnt the letter.

Mr. Brown demanded the letter, or the proof of its destruction.

I never wrote myself, but my friend, Mr. Henry did; he said so; I never received a letter; it was written to Robert J. Henry; part of the letter was written to me, but not directed to me; the Louisa Truit, who wrote, stated, that for the information he wanted $100 for one of the fugitives; he was referred to the store of Taylor & Paulding, and Mr. Henry would meet him there; when I got to the store, some of the concern let Mr. Henry know that a man wanted to see him; I heard this at the store; the man was there; he was a mulatto man, middle-aged, and middling tall; he is not here, that I know of; can't tell when I last saw him. His name I understood to be Gloucester.

Under the severe cross-examination that the witness had been subjected to under D.P. Brown, he became very faint, and called for water. Large drops of sweat stood upon his forehead, and he was obliged to sit down, lest he should fall down. "Take a seat," said Mr. Brown tauntingly, "and enjoy yourself, while I proceed with my interrogations." But the witness was completely used up, and was allowed to withdraw to another room, where fresh air was more plentiful. The cause of the poor slave woman was greatly strengthened by this failure.

Another witness, named Zachariah Bowen, for the claimants, swore positively that he knew the prisoner well, that she had been hired to his brother for three years by Dr. Purnell, whose slave she was; also he swore that he knew her parents, who were slaves to the said Doctor P.; that he last saw her in 1827, etc. On cross-examination he swore thus: "I last saw her in 1827, she was about sixteen or seventeen; she was about an ordinary size, not the smallest size, nor the largest; she was neither thick nor thin; there was nothing remarkable in her more than is common; nothing in her speech; she was about the same color as the woman here; I never saw a great deal of change in a nigger, from sixteen to thirty-five or forty, sometimes they grow fatter, and sometimes leaner. As to recognizing her in Philadelphia, he had not the slightest difficulty. He went on to swear, that he first saw her in a cab, in the city; I knew her yesterday; if you could see the rest of the family you could pick her out yourself in thirty: I knew her by her general favor, and have no particular mark; I would not attempt to describe features; her favor is familiar to me; I never saw any marks upon her."

Here Mr. Brown said he would not examine this witness further until he had concluded the examination of the witness, who had become sick. The court then adjourned till nine o'clock the next morning.

The avenues to the court were filled with anxious persons, and in the front and rear of the state house the crowd was very great.

The next morning, at an early hour, the court-room, and all the avenues to it were densely crowded by people interested in behalf of the woman whose case was under trial. A large number of respectable ladies formed a part of the large gathering.

Robert F. Bowen, the witness, who became sick, was recalled.

Witness.—"I saw the colored person, who gave the information, the next evening; after I saw him in Market street, at Congress Hall, in our room; the gentleman who keeps the hotel we did not wish to place under any responsibility, as he might be accused of carrying on the business. (Of kidnapping, suggested Mr. Brown.) No, said witness, that is what you call it; the woman would have run away if it had gone out; I heard his name was Gloucester, that gave the information; I saw him three times; once on the street; I have never been in his house; I have been to a house where I heard he lived; I gave a pledge not to disclose the matter; I made a personal pledge to Gloucester in our room last week at Congress Hall; he said he was afraid of being abused by the population of his own color for telling that this girl run away from Dr. Purnell; I understood that Louisa Truit was Gloucester's wife."

Under this searching cross-examination, Mr. Brown constrained him not only to tell all and more than he knew in favor of his friend, the claimant, but wrung from him the secrets which he stood pledged never to disclose.

Witness.—"I know no marks; she was in the condition of a married woman when she left me; it was the particular favor of her father and mother that made me recognize her; nothing else; she was pretty well built for her size."

While this witness remembered every thing so accurately occurring in relation to the life and escape of the girl of sixteen, and was prepared to swear to her identity simply "by her favor," as he termed it, he was found sadly deficient in memory touching the owner, whom he had known much longer, and more intimately than he had the girl, as will be seen from the following facts in this witness' testimony:

Witness.—"I don't know when Dr. P. died; I can't tell the year; I should suppose about fourteen years ago; I was at the funeral, and helped to make his coffin; it was in the fall, I think; it was after the camp-meeting I spoke of; at that time I went regularly, but not of late; I have no certain recollection of the year he died; I kept a record of the event of my conversion, and have referred to it often. It has been a reference every year, and perhaps a thousand times a year; it was in the Bible, and I was in the habit of looking into it; I was in the habit of turning over the leaves of this precious book; I think it was eighteen years ago; can't say I'm certain; can't say it was more than twelve years; Dr. P. left six children; two remain in our country, and one in Louisiana, and the one, who is here, making four; I have no interest in the fugitive; I made no contract in regard to this case; there was an offer; are you waiting for an answer? the offer was this, that I was to come on after my fugitive, and if I did not get him they were to pay my expenses; I hesitated about coming; it was a long time before I made up my mind; they said they would pay my expenses if I didn't succeed in getting mine out of prison."

In this way the above witness completely darkened counsel, and added to the weakness of his cause in a marked degree.



THE OVERSEER IS NOW EXAMINED.

Zachariah Bowen recalled.—"I didn't come here on any terms; I hardly understand what you mean by terms; I made no contract; I came upon my own book; there was no contract; I have no expectations; I don't know that Dr. P. ever manumitted any female slaves; I never knew that she was in the family way when she ran away; I heard of it about that time; she ran off in the fall of 1828. Dr. P. told me so; in the fall of 1828; in 1825, '26, '27, she lived with my brother; in 1825 I lived there; in 1827 and '28 I lived with Dr. P. I moved there and was overseer for him; I was overseer for fifteen years for him; two years at his house; I ceased to be his overseer in 1841, I think; he was living in 1841; I am certain of that year, I think; Dr. Purnell died in 1844, I feel certain; I said to Mr. Purnell that I did not know what ailed the other Mr. Bowen, for the doctor died in 1844; he died in the latter part of the Spring of 1844; Mr. Bowen made a mistake in saying it was eighteen years ago; if you recall him he will rectify the mistake, I think; several slaves escaped from Dr. Purnell; a boy, that lived with my brother, ran away in 1827; the others were not hired to my brother; I don't know that I could tell the exact time, nor the year; the doctor used to say to us, there is another of my niggers ran away; the reason that I can tell when Mahala ran away, is because she took a husband and ran away; I was married that year; the reason I cannot tell about the others is, because they went at different times in five years; the first who ran away before Mahala, was named Grace; she went in 1827; I don't know when the last went, or who it was."

* * * * *

Gloucester said they had raised a mob on him, on account of this case, and he would have to leave the city; the case of this woman or these proceedings was not spoken of there; he staid but a short time; he said one of the witnesses had betrayed him in court, yesterday, and they attacked him last night; I asked him how he escaped from so many; he said very few were in the city who could outrun him; I asked him where he was going, he replied he had a notion to put for Canada; some of the gentlemen proposed his going to Baltimore; he said that would not do, as the laws of Maryland would catch him; he was going to get a boat and go to New Jersey, and then to New York; Mr. Purnell gave him just thirty-five dollars last night; he paused a while, and Mr. P. told him to hand it back; he then took out his money and put some more to it, and said: "Here is fifty dollars." Mr. P. said that if he got the slave he would leave fifty dollars more with a person in the city.

* * * * *

Question by the judge.—"You have spoken of a conversation in which Mr. P. told you of certain letters or correspondence, and that they had reference to this alleged fugitive. I want you to give me, to the best of your recollection, everything he said the letters contained."

Witness.—Mr. P. told me when he first mentioned it to me, he said that he was going to mention something to me, that he did not want anything said, in regard to some negroes that had run away from his father; he said he wanted me to come on here, and he did not want me to tell any person before we left our county; that if the negroes heard of it, they could get information to the parties before he could get here; I told him I would not tell any person except my wife; he then said he had correspondence with a person here, for a month or two, and he had no doubt but that several of his negroes were here, from what he had heard from his correspondent; he asked me if I could recognize the favor of this Mahala? I told him I didn't know; he then said if anybody would know her, I would, as she had lived with my brother three years; he then said that he would want to start the next week, but he would see me again at that time; that was all he said at that time, only we turned into a hotel, and he said don't breathe this to anybody; on Saturday before we left home, he came to my house, and said: well, I shall want you to start for Philadelphia, on Monday morning; I suppose you will go? I told him I would rather not, if he could do without out me; but as I told him before, I would go, if he still requested it. I would go; that's all, sir, except that I said I would be along in the stage.

* * * * *

J.T. Hammond was then called, a young man who admitted he had never seen the respondent till he came to the court-house, but was ready to swear that he would have known her by her resemblance to Dr. Purnell's set of negroes. "His whole set?" said Mr. Brown. "Yes, sir." (Derisive laughter).

* * * * *

Mr. McMurtrie offered to prove, by persons who had known the two witnesses who had testified in this case, from their youth, that they were respectable and worthy men. D.P. Brown, said that if the gentleman found it necessary to sustain his witnesses' reputation, in consequence of the peculiar dilemma they had got into, he would object, and if he supposed that he was about to contradict them in some point in the defence, he certainly was right, but as the case could not be concluded to-day, he would like to have the matter adjourned over until Tuesday next.

Mr. McMurtrie objected, by saying, that his client was anxious to have the matter disposed of as soon as possible, as he had been subjected to numerous insults since the matter had been before the court.

Judge Kane intimated that no weight was to be attached to this consideration, as the full power of the court was at his disposal for the purpose of protecting his client from insult.

Mr. McMurtrie replied that he did not know whether words spoken came within the meaning of the act of Congress, in such matters.

The court took a recess until a quarter to three o'clock.

The court met again at a quarter to three o'clock.

Mr. McMurtrie asked that the witnesses for the defence be excluded from the court room, except the one upon the stand.

This was objected to by Mr. Brown, as the witnesses for the prosecution had not been required so to do; but he afterwards withdrew his objections, and notified Mr. McMurtrie that he would require any witnesses he might have in addition, should retire also; as he would object to any of them being heard if they remained.

The Defence.—Mr. Pierce opened the case by saying that the testimony for the defence would be clear and conclusive; that the witnesses for the prosecution are mistaken in the identity of the alleged fugitive. That at the time they allege her to have been in Maryland, on the plantation of Dr. Purnell, she was in Chester county, and in the year Lafayette visited this country, she was in this city. He would confine the testimony exclusively to these two counties, and show that she is not the alleged slave.

Henry C. Cornish, sworn. I live in this city, and am a shoemaker; I came here in the year 1830; before that I lived in Chester county, East Whiteland township, with Wm. Latta; my father lived with Mr. Latta six or eight years; I lived there three years before that time, and was familiar with the place for more than six years before 1830; I saw the alleged fugitive some five years before 1830, at George Amos', in Uwchland township, some eight or ten miles from our house; I fix the time from a meeting being held on the Valley Hill by a minister, named Nathan D. Tierney; that must have been in 1825; I am positive it was before the beginning of the year 1828; I have not the least doubt; I joined church about that time; it was the first of my uniting with the church; it was in 1825; I joined the Methodist Episcopal Church; before they built a church they held meetings alternately at people's houses; I met her at Amos' house, I recollect my father going to dig the foundation of the church: I saw her there before the church was built; I knew her before she was married; and since I left there I have met her at the annual meetings of the church; I have kept up the acquaintance ever since; I knew that she had two children, that were buried as long as twenty-one or twenty-two years ago; if the boy had lived he would have been twenty-three or twenty-four years old; he was the oldest; she was not married when I first saw her in 1827; she did not appear to be anything but a girl, and was not married, and she of course could not be in the condition of a married woman; I was not at her wedding; if I had not continued to know her, I would not now know her; she was then a small person; age and flesh would change her a little; her complexion has not changed; I think she worked for Mrs. Amos; a church record is now kept very correct; but when I first went into the church, colored men could not read and write; I acted as the clerk of the church; I united with the church after I first saw her; I have seen her very often since I left Chester; five hundred times to speak safely; I worship down town and she up in Brown street; to the best of my recollection they moved over Schuylkill about twelve years ago; she has lived here about nine years; she has six children, I have heard; I have seen five; the oldest is eighteen or nineteen; the youngest a sucking babe; I have visited her house since I have been here; I was not sent for by my uncle, who was employed by Joseph Smith & Co., next to the Girard Bank; I was with Edward Biddle for four years, until he was elected President of the Morris Canal and Banking Company, and then I went to learn shoemaking under instructions, since which time I have been in business for myself; my father burnt limestone for Mr. Latta; he and his wife are dead; I was there a day or two ago for witnesses to testify in this case.

Cross-examined.—I was born in 1814, and am thirty-seven years of age; when I first knew her I suppose she was fifteen years old; she was married about three years afterwards; her husband's name is Micajah Williams; I heard he was in prison for stealing; her name before marriage was Phamie Coates; I didn't know her husband before they were married; don't know whether they came from Maryland; I never knew of Mahala Richardson before last evening in court; the difference in her appearance is a natural one, that every body is acquainted with; I mean that a little boy is not a man, and a growing girl is not a woman; age and flesh and size make a difference; if I had not conversed with her during the twenty-one years, I would not have known her; I never changed a word with her about the case, except to say I was sorry to see her here; I knew her the moment I saw her; her arrest could not have been in the newspapers of the morning as she was not arrested until seven o'clock that day; I went to Chester to look for witnesses; I came to the court because I am a vigilant man, and my principle is to save any person whose liberty is in danger; I had heard that a woman was arrested; her business is to get work wherever she can.

Deborah Ann Boyer, sworn. I was thirty-three last January; I live within one mile of West Chester; I am a married woman; I have lived there since 1835. I went there with my mother; I can read; I have seen the alleged fugitive before this; I first knew her at Downingtown, when she came to my mother's house; that was before I had gone to West Chester with my mother; you can tell how long it was, for it was in 1826; my brother was born in that year; I was quite small then; don't know how she came there; she was with my mother during her confinement; my brother is dead; it is written down in our Testament; and I took an epitaph from it to put on the tombstone; the last time I saw it was when the fellow killed the school-mistress. I looked because about 1830, a man killed a woman, and was hung, and I wanted to see how long ago it was. I have seen her more or less ever since, until within two years. I don't remember when she went from mother, but I saw her at Mr. Latta's afterwards. I have no doubt she is the woman; she was then a slim, tall girl, larger than myself; she is not darker now, but heavier set every way.

* * * * *

Sarah Gayly affirmed.—I am between forty-seven and forty-eight years of age. I live in the city at this time. I was raised in Chester county, in 1824, and have been here about five years. I lived in Downingtown nine or ten years. I lived awhile in West Chester, and lived in Chester county until about five years ago. I know the alleged fugitive. I first saw her in the neighborhood of Downingtown, at a place they call Downing's old stage office; she worked in the house with me; it was somewhere near 1824, just before Lafayette came about; she worked off and on days' work, to wash dishes; she was a small girl then, very thin, and younger than me. I met with her, as near as I can tell you, down in the valley, at a place called the Valley Inn. I used to see her off and on at church, in 1826. I visited her at Mr. Latta's, after she lived at the Valley Inn. I don't know when she left that county. I know the alleged fugitive is the same person; she belonged to the same church, Ebenezer. I know the brothers Cornish, and have whipped them many a time. I lived with Latta myself, and the Cornish, who is now a minister, lived there; he lived there before I did, and so did the alleged fugitive. I was then between twenty-three and twenty-five years old; she was a strip of a girl; she was not in the family way when she came there.

Cross-examined.—I have not seen her since 1826, until I saw her here in the court-room; I recognized her when I first saw her here without anybody pointing her out, and she recognized me; I have reason to know her, because she has the same sort of a scar on her forehead that I have; we used to make fun of each other about the marks; she went by the name of Fanny Coates. I know nothing about her husband; she did not do the work of a woman in 1826; she washed dishes, scrubbed, etc. I heard her say her father and mother were dead, and that they lived somewhere in that neighborhood; she at that time made her home with a family named Amos.

The Judge asked to see the scar on the witness' forehead and that on the forehead of the respondent. They were brought near the bench, and the marks inspected, which were plainly seen on both. During this time the infant of the respondent was entrusted to another colored woman. The child, who, up to this time, had been quiet, raised a piteous cry and would not be pacified. The whole scene excited a great sensation.

* * * * *

Mr. Brown then rose in reply to the plaintiff's counsel, and said: If I consulted my own views, I should not say one syllable, in answer to the arguments of the learned counsel upon the other side, and relying as I do upon the evidence, and out of respect to the convenience of your honor, I shall say very little as it is. The views of the counsel it appears to me, are most extraordinary indeed. He seems to take it for granted that everything that is said on the part of the witnesses for the claimant is gospel, and that what is said on the part of the witnesses for the respondent, is to be considered matter of suspicion. Now I rate no man by his size, color, or position, but I appeal to you in looking at the testimony that has been produced here, on the different sides of the question, and judging it by its intrinsic worth, whether there is the slightest possible comparison between the witnesses on the part of the plaintiff, and those of the defendant, either in intelligence, memory, language, thought, or anything else. This is a fine commentary upon the disparagement of color! Looking at the men as they are, as you will, I say that the testimony exhibited on the part of the respondent would outweigh a whole theatre of such men as are exhibited on the part of the complainant. I say nothing here about their respectability. It would have been proper for the learned counsel on the part of the plaintiff, if he thought the witnesses on the part of the respondent unworthy of belief, to have proved them so; but instead of that, he attempts to bolster up men, who, whether respectable or otherwise, from their inconsistency, involutions and tergiversations in regard to this case, produce no possible effect upon the judicial mind, but that which is unfavorable to themselves. Impartial men, are they? How do they appear before you? They appear under cover from first to last; standing upon their right to resist inquiries legitimately propounded to them; burning up letters since they have arrived, calculated to shed light upon this subject; and before they come here, corresponding with and deriving information from a man, an evident kidnapper, who dare not sign his name and gets his wife to sign hers. This is the character these men exhibit here before you; clandestinely meeting together at the tavern, and that to consult in regard to the identity of a person about whom they know nothing. Can they refer to any marks by which to identify this person? Nothing at all of the kind. Do they, with the exception of the first witness examined, state even the time when she left? Have they produced the letter written by this kidnapper, showing how he described her? Why, let me ask, is not the full light allowed to shine on this case? But even with the light they have shed upon it, I would have been perfectly content to have rested it, relying upon their testimony alone, for a just decision.

* * * * *

Now, what man among them, professes to have seen this woman for twenty-one years? Not one. The learned gentleman attempts to sustain his case, because one of our witnesses, certainly not more than one, has not seen this woman for about the same length of time: but don't you perceive, that in this case they all lived in the same State, if not in the same county—they had intercourse with persons mutually acquainted with her, and three out of four of them, met her for several months at the same church; and one witness, who had long been in her society, and in close association with her, knew she had a mark upon her forehead corresponding to the one she bore on her own. And by dint of all these matters, this long continued acquaintance only reviving the impressions received in early life, they had no doubt of the identity of the person. Was there ever a more perfect train of evidence exhibited to prove the identity of a person, than on the present occasion?

* * * * *

We have called witnesses on this point alone, and have more than counterpoised the evidence produced upon the opposite side. And we have not only made it manifest that she was a free woman, but we have confirmed her charter by separate proof. What does the gentleman say further? Do I understand him to say we have no right to determine this matter judicially? Now what is all this about? Why is it before you, taking your time day after day? According to this argument, you have nothing to do but to give the master the flesh he claims. But you are to be satisfied that you have sufficient reason to believe that these claims are well founded. And if you leave that matter in a state of doubt, it does not require a single witness to be called on the part of the respondent, to prove on the opposite side of the question. But we have come in with a weight of evidence demolishing the structure he has raised, restoring the woman to her original position in the estimation of the law. "Well," says the gentleman, "it is like the case of a fugitive from justice." But it is not, and if it were, it would not benefit his case. The case of a fugitive from justice is one in which the prisoner is remanded to the custody of the law, handed over for legal purposes. The case of a fugitive from labor is a case in which the individual is handed over sometimes to a merciless master, and very rarely to a charitable one. Does the counsel mean to say that in the case of a fugitive from justice he is not bound to satisfy the judge before whom, the question is heard? He should prove our witnesses unworthy of belief. As Judge Grier said, upon a former occasion, "You can choose your own time; you have full and abundant opportunities on every side to prepare against any contingency." Why don't they do so? He is not to come here and force on a case, and say, I suppose you take every thing for granted. He is to come prepared to prove the justice of his claim before the tribunal who is to decide upon it. That he has not done successfully, and I would, therefore, ask your Honor, after the elaborate argument on the part of the plaintiff, to discharge this woman: for after such an abundance of testimony unbroken and incontestable as that we have exhibited here, it would be a monstrous perversion of reason to suppose that anything more could be required.

Mr. McMurtrie replied by reasserting his positions. It was a grave question for the court to consider what evidence was required. He thought that this decision might be the turning case to show whether the act of Congress would be carried out or whether we were to return in fact to the state of affairs under the old laws.

Judge Kane said, in reference to the remarks at the close of Mr. McMurtrie's speech: So long as I retain my seat on this bench, I shall endeavor to enforce this law without reference to my own sympathies, or the sympathies and opinions of others. I do not think, in the cases under this act of Congress, or a treaty, or constitutional, or legal provision for the extradition of fugitives from justice, that it is possible to imagine that conclusive proof of identity could be established by depositions. From the nature of the case and the facts to be proved, proof cannot be made in anticipation of the identity of the party. That being established, it is the office of the judge, to determine whether a prima facie case indicates the identity of the party charged, with the party before him.

* * * * *

On the other hand, the evidence of the claimant has been met, and regarding the bearing of the witnesses for the respondent, met by witnesses who testified, with apparent candor and great intelligence. If they are believed, then the witnesses for the claimant are mistaken. The question is, whether two witnesses for the claimant, who have not seen the respondent for twenty-three, one for twenty-four years, are to be believed in preference to four witnesses on the other side, three of whom have seen her frequently since 1826, and known her as Euphemia Williams, and the fourth, who has not seen her for a quarter of a century, but testifies that when they were children, they used to jest each other about scars, which they still bear upon their persons; I am bound to say that the proof by the four witnesses has not been overthrown by the contrary evidence of the two who only recognized her when they called on her with the marshall. One says he called her Mahala Purnell as soon as he saw her. He might be mistaken. He inferred he would find her at the place to which he went. There were three persons in the room, one was Mahala Richardson, whom he knew, a young girl, and the prisoner. If she had been alone, his recognition would have been of no avail. The fact is obvious to this court, that the respondent has no peculiar physiognomy or gait. It has been shown she has no peculiarity of voice; I cannot but feel that the fact alleged by the claimant is very doubtful, when the witnesses, without mark or peculiarity, testify that they can readily recognize the girl of fifteen in the woman of forty. The prisoner is therefore discharged.

A slight attempt at applause in the court room was promptly suppressed. The intelligence of the discharge of the woman, was quickly spread to those without, who raised shouts of joy. The woman, with her children, were hurried into a carriage, which was driven first to the Anti-slavery office and then to the Philadelphia Institute, in Lombard Street above Seventh. Here she was introduced to a large audience of colored people, who hailed her appearance with lively joy; several excited speeches were made, and great enthusiasm was manifested in and outside of the building and the adjacent streets. When Euphemia came out, the horses were taken out of the carriage, and a long rope was attached, which was taken by as many colored people as could get hold of it, and the woman and her children thus conveyed to her home.

The procession was accompanied by several hundreds of men, women and boys. They dragged the carriage past the residence of the counsel for the respondent, cheering them by huzzas of the wildest kind, and then took the vehicle and its contents to the residence of the woman, Germantown Road near Fifth street, beguiling the way with songs and shouts. The whole scene was one of wild, ungovernable excitement, produced by exuberance of joy.

The masterly management of abolitionists in connection with the counsel, saved poor Euphemia from being dragged from her children into hopeless bondage. While the victory was a source of great momentary rejoicing on the part of the friends of the slave it was nevertheless quite manifest that she was only released by the "skin of her teeth." "A scar on her forehead" saved her. Relative to this important mark, a few of Euphemia's friends enjoyed a very pleasing anecdote, which, at the time, they were obliged to withhold from the public; it is too good to be kept any longer. For a time, Euphemia was kept in durance vile, up in the dome of Independence Hall, partly in the custody of Lieutenant Gouldy of the Mayor's police, (who was the right man in the right place), whose sympathies were secretly on the side of the slave. While his pitying eyes gazed on Euphemia's sad face, he observed a very large scar on her forehead, and was immediately struck with the idea that that old scar might be used with damaging effect by the witnesses and counsel against her. At once he decided that the scar must be concealed, at least, until after the examination of the claimant's witnesses. Accordingly a large turban was procured and placed on Euphemia's head in such a manner as to hide the scar completely, without exciting the least suspicion in the minds of any. So when the witnesses against her swore that she had no particular mark, David Paul Brown made them clinch this part of their testimony irrevocably. Now, when Sarah Gayly affirmed (on the part of the prisoner) that "I have reason to know her because she has the same sort of a scar on her forehead that I have, we used to make fun of each other about the marks," etc., if it was not evident to all, it was to some, that she had "stolen their thunder," as the "chop-fallen" countenances of the slave-holder's witnesses indicated in a moment. Despair was depicted on all faces sympathizing with the pursuers.

With heavy pecuniary losses, sad damage of character, and comfortless, the unhappy claimant and his witnesses were compelled to return to Maryland, wiser if not better men. The account of this interesting trial, we have condensed from a very careful and elaborate report of it published in the "Pennsylvania Freeman," January 13th, 1857.

Apparently, the vigilance of slave-hunters was not slackened by this defeat, as the records show that many exciting cases took place in Philadelphia and Pennsylvania, and if the records of the old Abolitionist Society could be published, as they should be, it would appear that many hard-fought battles have taken place between Freedom and Slavery on this soil.

Here in conclusion touching the Fugitive Slave Law, arrests under it, etc., as a fitting sequel we copy two extracts from high authority. The first is from the able and graphic pen of James Miller McKim, who was well known to stand in the front ranks of both the Anti-slavery Society and the Underground Rail Road cause through all the long and trying contest, during which the country was agitated by the question of immediate emancipation, and shared the full confidence and respect of Abolitionists of all classes throughout the United States and Great Britain.

The letter from which we have made this extract was written to Hon. George Thompson, the distinguished abolitionist of England, and speaks for itself. The other quotation is from the pen of a highly respectable and intelligent lady, belonging to the Society of Friends, or Quakers, and a most devoted friend of the slave, whose statement obviously is literally true.

From Mr. McKiM to GEORGE THOMPSON, 1851.

The accompanying parcel of extracts will give you a full account of the different slave cases tried in this city, under the new Fugitive Slave Law up to this time. Full and accurate as these reports are, they will afford you but a faint idea of the anguish and confusion that have been produced in this part of the country by this infamous statute. It has turned Southeastern Pennsylvania into another Guinea Coast, and caused a large portion of the inhabitants to feel as insecure from the brutal violence and diabolical acts of the kidnapper, as are the unhappy creatures who people the shores of Africa. Ruffians from the other side of the Slave-line, aided by professional kidnappers on our own soil, a class of men whose 'occupation' until lately, had been 'gone,' are continually prowling through the community, and every now and then seizing and carrying away their prey. As a specimen of the boldness, though fortunately, not of the success always with which these wretches prosecute their nefarious trade, read the enclosed article, which I cut from the Freeman, of January 2d, and bear in mind that in no respect are the facts here mentioned over-stated.

This affair occurred in Chester county, one of the most orderly and intelligent counties in the State, a county settled principally by Quakers. A week or two after this occurrence, and not far from the same place, a farmhouse was entered by a band of armed ruffians, in the evening, and at a time when all the able-bodied occupants, save one, were known to be absent. This was a colored man, who was seated by the kitchen fire, and in the act of taking off his shoes. He was instantly knocked down and gagged; but, still resisting, he was beaten most unmercifully. There was a woman, and also a feeble old man, in the house, who were attracted to the spot by the scuffle; but they could neither render any assistance, nor (the light being put out), could they recognize the parties engaged in it. The unhappy victim being fairly overcome, was dragged like a slain beast to a wagon, which was about a hundred yards distant, waiting to receive him. In this he was placed, and conveyed across the line, which was about twenty miles further south; and that was the last, so far as I know, that has ever been heard of him. The alarm was given, of course, as soon as possible, and the neighbors were quickly in pursuit; but the kidnappers had got the start of them. The next morning the trail between the house, and the place where the wagon stood, was distinctly visible, and deeply marked with blood.

About a fortnight since, a letter was brought to our office, from a well-known friend, the contents of which were in substance as follows: A case of kidnapping had occurred in the vicinity of West Cain Township, Chester county, at about half past one on Sunday morning, the 16th March. A black man, by the name of Thomas Hall, an honest, sober, and industrious individual, living in the midst of a settlement of farmers, had been stolen by persons who knocked at his door, and told him that his nearest neighbor wanted him to come to his house, one of his children being sick. Hall, not immediately opening his door, it was burst in, and three men rushed into his house; Hall was felled by the bludgeons of the men. His wife received several severe blows, and on making for the door was told, that if she attempted to go out or halloo, she would have her brains blown out. She, however, escaped through a back window, and gave the alarm; but before any person arrived upon the ground, they had fled with their victim. He was taken without any clothing, except his night clothes. A six-barrelled revolver, heavily loaded, was dropped in the scuffle, and left; also a silk handkerchief, and some old advertisement of a bear bait, that was to take place in Emmittsburg, Maryland. In how many cases the persons stolen are legally liable to capture, it is impossible to state. The law, you know, authorizes arrests to be made, with or without process, and nothing is easier under such circumstances than to kidnap persons who are free born.

The very same day that I received the above mentioned letter, and while our hearts were still aching over its contents, another was brought us from Thomas Garrett, of Wilmington, Delaware, announcing the abduction, a night or two before, of a free colored man of that city. The outrage was committed by an ex-policeman, who, pretending to be acting under the commission which he had been known to hold, entered, near the hour of midnight, the house of the victim, and alleging against him some petty act of disorder, seized him, handcuffed him in the presence of his dismayed family, and carried him off to Maryland. The cheat that had been practised was not discovered by the family until next evening; but it was too late, the man was gone.

At the time Mr. Garrett's letter was handed to me, narrating the foregoing case of man stealing, I was listening to the sad tales of two colored women, who had come to the office for advice and assistance. One of them was an elderly person, whose son had been pursued by the marshal's deputies, and who had just escaped with 'the skin of his teeth.' She did not come on her own account, however; her heart was too full of joy for that. She came to accompany the young woman who was with her. This young woman was a remarkably intelligent, lady-like person, and her story made a strong appeal to my feelings. She is a resident of Washington, and her errand here was, to procure the liberation of a sister-in-law, who is confined in that city, under very peculiar circumstances. The sister-in-law had absconded from her mistress about nine months since, and was secreted in the room of an acquaintance, who was cook in a distinguished slave-holding family in Washington; her intention being, there to wait until all search should be over, and an opportunity offer of escape to the North. But, as yet, no such opportunity had presented itself; at least none that was available, and for nine long months had that poor girl been confined in the narrow limits of the cook's chamber, watched over day and night by that faithful friend with a vigilance as sleepless as it was disinterested. The time had now come, however, when something must be done. The family in whose house she is hid is about to be broken up, and the house to be vacated, and the girl must either be rescued from her peril, or she, and all her accomplices must be exposed. What to do under these circumstances was the question which brought this woman to Philadelphia. I advised her to the best of my ability, and sent her away hopeful, if not rejoicing.

But in many of these cases we can render no aid whatever. All we can do is to commend them to the God of the oppressed, and labor on for the day of general deliverance. But, oh! the horrors of this hell-born system, and the havoc made by this; its last foul offspring, the Fugitive Slave law. The anguish, the terror, the agony inflicted by this infamous statute, must be witnessed to be fully appreciated. You must hear the tale of the broken-hearted mother, who has just received tidings that her son is in the hands of man-thieves. You must listen to the impassioned appeal of the wife, whose husband's retreat has been discovered, and whose footsteps are dogged by the blood-hounds of Slavery. You must hear the husband, as I did, a few weeks ago, himself bound and helpless, beg you for God's sake to save his wife. You must see such a woman as Hannah Dellam, with her noble-looking boy at her side, pleading in vain before a pro-slavery judge, that she is of right free; that her son is entitled to his freedom; and above all, that her babe, about to be born, should be permitted to open its eyes upon the light of liberty. You must hear the judge's decision, remorselessly giving up the woman with her children born and unborn, into the hands of their claimants—by them to be carried to the slave prison, and thence to be sold to a returnless distance from the remaining but scattered fragments of her once happy family. These things you must see and hear for yourself before you can form any adequate idea of the bitterness of this cup which the unhappy children of oppression along this southern border are called upon to drink. Manifestations like these have we been obliged either to witness ourselves, or hear the recital of from others, almost daily, for weeks together. Our aching hearts of late, have known but little respite. A shadow has been cast over our home circles, and a check been given to the wonted cheerfulness of our families. One night, the night that the woman and the boy and the unborn babe received their doom, my wife, long after midnight, literally wept herself to sleep. For the last fortnight we have had no new cases; but even now, when I go home in the evening, if I happen to look more serious than usual, my wife notices it, and asks: "Is there another slave case?" and my little girls look up anxiously for my reply.