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THE RUNAWAY SLAVE.

I was once staying for a short time at Cleveland, one of the northern ports of the state of Ohio, situated on the shores of Lake Erie, when an incident occurred which made a deep impression upon me at the time.

My landlord was an Englishman, of the name of Brown, and had not been settled in the place for more than a few months. One cold night, about the beginning of winter-it was some time in the month of November-on going into the stable behind the house with a lantern, he thought he heard an unusual noise in a corner, where some old casks, slabs, and deals, lay piled together. He flashed his light upon the spot, but saw nothing. After doing the business that brought him

there, he turned a glance fancied he saw it move! straight up to the spot. among the boards.

again upon the heap in the corner and He was a bold fellow, and walked There was something black lying Brown put down his hand, and graspeda head of hair! and immediately after, a human face turned round and met his own, and a pair of great black lustrous eyes gazed into his! Brown's heart had almost leaped into his mouth at the sudden surprise.

"A nigger, as I live!" he exclaimed; "and what on earth are you doing here, sirrah? Come out, come out of that,

I say."

The man slowly rose from his hiding-place, and stood before the landlord-a tall, well-formed fellow, not quite black (for, as he afterwards informed me, his father was a white man); but his close woolly hair, his dark eyes, and his broadish nose, sufficiently marked his African parentage on one side at least. He stood quietly before the landlord, as if waiting to be interrogated further, or to be dealt with in some way. Brown had already suspected the true nature of the case, from the usual plantation dress which the man wore, but which had been torn to tatters in many places, and left his legs completely bare. "A runaway?" asked Brown, in a low voice.

"A runaway slave," answered the man, in correct English; "I have fled from my owner, whose agents are now in pursuit of me; and I ask a night's shelter from you, for the love of God, if not for the love of man. I want to reach the opposite shore of Canada, where no slave-owner nor slave-driver can molest me more."

No. 91.

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THE RUNAWAY SLAVE.

"You shall have it, and liberty too, if I can help you to it. Wait there, till I see what can be done for you-poor fellow!you seem sadly knocked up!"

Such words of kindness from a white man seemed to be unwonted sounds in the negro's ears, for he threw himself in an instant at Brown's feet, grasped his knees, and his heart seemed as if it would burst with emotion. "God bless you for ever, for your kindness to the poor slave!" was all he could

say.

"No more of that," said Brown, who was a blunt fellow; "have done! See, get you into that stall there among the straw, and keep yourself warm till I can seek out some old togs for you. You want food too. Good God! That there should be slaves hereabout, in this land of freedom, to run to an Englishman's house for help;-but you shall have it ladnever fear that!"

So saying, the landlord left the stable, locking the door behind him, and taking away the key. He came straight into the bar, where I was sitting, and communicated to me the fact of the discovery of a runaway slave. Some old clothes were

soon sought out, and, with a lump of cold meat and a hunch of bread, we both proceeded back to the stable.

The man lay concealed in the straw, but Brown's exclamation of "All's right," as he entered, at once drew him forth from his hiding-place.

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'Now," said Brown, "here's summut to eat, and when you have donned these togs you can set to work."

But the poor fellow's eyes were so set upon the meat, that I handed the plate to him at once, and he commenced devouring it with ravenous avidity. He was meanwhile, in the intervals of his munching, most profuse in his expressions of gratitude to the landlord, and joy beamed from every feature of his face. I must go back to the bar now," said Brown: "but my friend here will see to your comfort, as well as help you across to the other side of the water, whither he is going."

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"Bless you, ten thousand times bless you, for your help to the slave; but to be a slave no longer, thank God!" I learnt the runaway's story from his own lips, which was somewhat as follows:

"I was born a slave," he said, "for my mother was a slave, though my father was a white man: he was my master and first owner. He was a kind-hearted man, though demoralized by the inevitable debasement which clings about slavery

THE RUNAWAY SLAVE.

defiles all who have to do with it--the owner of the slave as well as the slave himself. But my father felt, what many white fathers of slave children never feel, that he owed something to us, of care, and nurture, and education, more than if no tie had existed between us. We were brought up in his own house—on the banks of the Ohio, in the lower part of the state of Kentucky-and there we were early familiarized with home comforts, and even with luxury itself. We learnt to read, and a negro preacher on the estate devoted himself to my careful instruction. I grew up almost to manhood before I knew anything of the miserable condition into which I had been born, and then the horrible truth came suddenly upon me. My father died. His relatives took posession, and proceeded to sell all the surplus slaves on the estate, and I was one of them.”

"Shocking!" I involuntarily exclaimed.

"And I was sold. I was knocked down to a bidder from an estate ten miles off; my mother was sold into Tenessee, but she never reached her destination. Torn from her children, her heart broke, and she died on her way thither. I rejoiced to hear that she, at least, was now free. My brothers and sisters were also sold to the highest bidders, and no two went together. I had learnt no manual labour whilst a youth, and I made a bad slave to my new master. He thought I was sullen while I was only thinking of freedom. He flogged me! You see these marks, sir, (baring his neck, across which, and down his back, broad white "wales" lay streaked);-he scourged into me the determination to escape, or to perish: and better die, than live a slave for life!

"There were others on the estate, besides myself, who hated this worse than dog's life; and among them was a fine young fellow who worked in the same gang with myself. We soon detected each other's sentiments, as by a common instinct, and concerted together a plan to escape

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One night we fled into the dark, directing our course towards the north. We knew little of the country lying beyond the boundaries of our owner's estate. But we knew that in

the north there was a land of freedom, and that was enough. So we sped on. Part of our way led through a great canebrake, and into it we pushed our way. We had proceeded some distance through it, when suddenly a long frightful howl burst upon our ears, the howl of a pack of hungry, perhaps desperate, wolves. We stopped, and put ourselves in an

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