Part 13 (1/2)

Hopper to inquire if he knew anything about them. He coolly replied, ”I believe they are doing very well. From what I hear, I judge it will not be necessary to give thyself any further trouble on their account.”

”There is no use in trying to capture a runaway slave in Philadelphia,”

rejoined the master. ”I believe the devil himself could not catch them when they once get here.”

”That is very likely,” answered Friend Hopper. ”But I think he would have less difficulty in catching the masters; being so much more familiar with them.”

Sixty dollars had already been expended in vain; and the slave-holder, having relinquished all hope of tracing the fugitives, finally agreed to manumit the woman for fifty dollars, and her son for seventy-five dollars. These sums were advanced by two citizens friendly to the colored people, and the emanc.i.p.ated slaves repaid them by faithful service.

THE SLAVE OF DR. RICH.

In the autumn of 1828, Dr. Rich of Maryland came to Philadelphia with his wife, who was the daughter of an Episcopal clergyman in that city, by the name of Wiltbank. She brought a slave to wait upon her, intending to remain at her father's until after the birth of her child, which was soon expected to take place. When they had been there a few months, the slave was informed by some colored acquaintance that she was free in consequence of being brought to Philadelphia. She called to consult with Isaac T. Hopper, and seemed very much disappointed to hear that a residence of six months was necessary to ent.i.tle her to freedom; that her master was doubtless aware of that circ.u.mstance, and would probably guard against it.

After some minutes of anxious reflection, she said, ”Then there is nothing left for me to do but to run away; for I am determined never to go back to Maryland.”

Friend Hopper inquired whether she thought it would be right to leave her mistress without any one to attend upon her, in the situation she then was. She replied that she felt no scruples on that point, for her master was wealthy, and could hire as many servants as he pleased.

Finding her mind entirely made up on the subject, he gave her such instructions as seemed suited to the occasion.

The next morning she was not to be found; and Dr. Rich went in search of her, with his father-in-law, Mr. Wiltbank. Having frightened some ignorant colored people where she visited, by threats of prosecuting them for harboring a runaway, they confessed that she had gone from their house to Isaac T. Hopper. Mr. Wiltbank accordingly waited upon him, and after relating the circ.u.mstances of the case, inquired whether he had seen the fugitive. In reply, he made a frank statement of the interview he had with her, and of her fixed determination to obtain her freedom. The clergyman reproached her with ingrat.i.tude, and said she had always been treated with great kindness.

”The woman herself gives a very different account of her treatment,”

replied Friend Hopper; ”but be that as it may, I cannot blame her for wis.h.i.+ng to obtain her liberty.”

He asked if Friend Hopper knew where she then was; and he answered that he did not. ”Could you find her, if you tried?” inquired he.

”I presume I could do it very easily,” rejoined the Quaker. ”The colored people never wish to secrete themselves from me; for they know I am their true friend.”

Mr. Wiltbank then said, ”If you will cause her to be brought to your house, Dr. Rich and myself will come here at eight o'clock this evening.

You will then hear her ask her master's pardon, acknowledge the kindness with which she has always been treated, and express her readiness to go home with him.”

Friend Hopper indignantly replied, ”I have no doubt that fear might induce her to profess all thou hast said. But what trait hast thou discovered in my character, that leads thee to suppose I would be such a hypocrite as to betray the confidence this poor woman has reposed in me, by placing her in the power of her master, in the way thou hast proposed?”

Mr. Wiltbank then requested that a message might be conveyed to the woman, exhorting her to return, and promising that no notice whatever would be taken of her offence.

”She shall be informed of thy message, if that will be any satisfaction to thee,” replied Friend Hopper; ”but I am perfectly sure she will never voluntarily return into slavery.”

Dr. Rich and Mr. Wiltbank called in the evening, and were told the message had been delivered to the woman, but she refused to return. ”She is in your house now,” exclaimed Dr. Rich. ”I can prove it; and if you don't let me see her, I will commence a suit against you to-morrow, for harboring my slave.”

”I believe Solomon Low resides in thy neighborhood,” said Friend Hopper.

”Art thou acquainted with him?”

Being answered in the affirmative, he said, ”Solomon Low brought three such suits as thou hast threatened. They cost him seventeen hundred dollars, which I heard he was unable to pay. But perhaps thou hast seventeen hundred dollars to spare?”

Dr. Rich answered that he could well afford to lose that sum.

”Very well,” rejoined his opponent. ”There are lawyers enough who need it, and still more who would be glad to have it.”

Finding it alike impossible to coax or intimidate the resolute Quaker, they withdrew. About eleven o'clock at night, some of the family informed Friend Hopper that there was a man continually walking back and forth in front of the house. He went out and accosted him thus: ”Friend, art thou watching my house?” When the stranger replied that he was, he said, ”It is very kind in thee; but I really do not think there is any occasion for thy services. I am quite satisfied with the watchmen employed by the public.”

The man answered gruffly, ”I have taken my stand, and I intend to keep it.”