The Underground Railroad · William Still
CROSSING THE BAY IN A BATTEAU.
SHARP CONTEST WITH PURSUERS ON WATER. FUGITIVES VICTORIOUS.
THOMAS SIPPLE, and his wife, MARY ANN, HENRY BURKETT, and ELIZABETH, his wife, JOHN PURNELL, and HALE BURTON. This party were slaves, living near Kunkletown, in Worcester county, Maryland, and had become restive in their fetters. Although they did not know a letter of the alphabet, they were fully persuaded that they were entitled to their freedom. In considering what way would be safest for them to adopt, they concluded that the water would be less dangerous than any other route. As the matter of freedom had been in their minds for a long time, they had frequently counted the cost, and had been laying by trifling sums of money which had fallen perchance into their hands. Among them all they had about thirty dollars. As they could not go by water without a boat, one of their number purchased an old batteau for the small sum of six dollars. The Delaware Bay lay between them and the Jersey shore, which they desired to reach. They did not calculate, however, that before leaving the Delaware shore they would have to contend with the enemy. That in crossing, they would lose sight of the land they well understood. They managed to find out the direction of the shore, and about the length of time that it might take them to reach it. Undaunted by the perils before them the party repaired to the bay, and at ten o'clock, P.M. embarked direct for the other shore.
Near Kate's Hammock, on the Delaware shore, they were attacked by five white men in a small boat. One of them seized the chain of the fugitives' boat, and peremptorily claimed it. "This is not your boat, we bought this boat and paid for it," spake one of the brave fugitives. "I am an officer, and must have it," said the white man, holding on to the chain. Being armed, the white men threatened to shoot. Manfully did the black men stand up for their rights, and declare that they did not mean to give up their boat alive. The parties speedily came to blows. One of the white men dealt a heavy blow with his oar upon the head of one of the black men, which knocked him down, and broke the oar at the same time. The blow was immediately returned by Thomas Sipple, and one of the white men was laid flat on the bottom of the boat. The white men were instantly seized with a panic, and retreated; after getting some yards off they snapped their guns at the fugitives several times, and one load of small shot was fired into them. John received two shot in the forehead, but was not dangerously hurt. George received some in the arms, Hale Burton got one about his temple, and Thomas got a few in one of his arms; but the shot being light, none of the fugitives were seriously damaged. Some of the shot will remain in them as long as life lasts. The conflict lasted for several minutes, but the victorious bondmen were only made all the more courageous by seeing the foe retreat. They rowed with a greater will than ever, and landed on a small island. Where they were, or what to do they could not tell. One whole night they passed in gloom on this sad spot. Their hearts were greatly cast down; the next morning they set out on foot to see what they could see. The young women were very sick, and the men were tried to the last extremity; however, after walking about one mile, they came across the captain of an oyster boat. They perceived that he spoke in a friendly way, and they at once asked directions with regard to Philadelphia. He gave them the desired information, and even offered to bring them to the city if they would pay him for his services. They had about twenty-five dollars in all. This they willingly gave him, and he brought them according to agreement. When they found the captain they were not far from Cape May light-house.
Taking into account the fact that it was night when they started, that their little boat was weak, combined with their lack of knowledge in relation to the imminent danger surrounding them, any intelligent man would have been justified in predicting for them a watery grave, long before the bay was half crossed. But they crossed safely. They greatly needed food, clothing, rest, and money, which they freely received, and were afterwards forwarded to John W. Jones, Underground Rail Road agent, at Elmira. The subjoined letter giving an account of their arrival was duly received:
ELMIRA, June 6th, 1860.
FRIEND WM. STILL:--All six came safe to this place. The two men came last night, about twelve o'clock; the man and woman stopped at the depot, and went east on the next train, about eighteen miles, and did not get back till to-night, so that the two men went this morning, and the four went this evening.
O, old master don't cry for me, For I am going to Canada where colored men are free.
P.S. What is the news in the city? Will you tell me how many you have sent over to Canada? I would like to know. They all send their love to you. I have nothing new to tell you. We are all in good health. I see there is a law passed in Maryland not to set any slaves free. They had better get the consent of the Underground Rail Road before they passed such a thing. Good night from your friend,
JOHN W. JONES.
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ARRIVAL FROM DORCHESTER CO., 1860.
HARRIET TUBMAN'S LAST "TRIP" TO MARYLAND.
STEPHEN ENNETS and wife, MARIA, with three children, whose names were as follows: HARRIET, aged six years; AMANDA, four years, and a babe (in the arms of its mother), three months old.
The following letter from Thomas Garrett throws light upon this arrival:
WILMINGTON, 12th mo., 1st, 1860.
RESPECTED FRIEND:--WILLIAM STILL:--I write to let thee know that Harriet Tubman is again in these parts. She arrived last evening from one of her trips of mercy to God's poor, bringing two men with her as far as New Castle. I agreed to pay a man last evening, to pilot them on their way to Chester county; the wife of one of the men, with two or three children, was left some thirty miles below, and I gave Harriet ten dollars, to hire a man with carriage, to take them to Chester county. She said a man had offered for that sum, to bring them on. I shall be very uneasy about them, till I hear they are safe. There is now much more risk on the road, till they arrive here, than there has been for several months past, as we find that some poor, worthless wretches are constantly on the look out on two roads, that they cannot well avoid more especially with carriage, yet, as it is Harriet who seems to have had a special angel to guard her on her journey of mercy, I have hope.
Thy Friend,
THOMAS GARRETT.
N.B. We hope all will be in Chester county to-morrow.
These slaves from Maryland, were the last that Harriet Tubman piloted out of the prison-house of bondage, and these "came through great tribulation."
Stephen, the husband, had been a slave of John Kaiger, who would not allow him to live with his wife (if there was such a thing as a slave's owning a wife.) She lived eight miles distant, hired her time, maintained herself, and took care of her children (until they became of service to their owner), and paid ten dollars a year for her hire. She was owned by Algier Pearcy. Both mother and father desired to deliver their children from his grasp. They had too much intelligence to bear the heavy burdens thus imposed without feeling the pressure a grievous one.
Harriet Tubman being well acquainted in their neighborhood, and knowing of their situation, and having confidence that they would prove true, as passengers on the Underground Rail Road, engaged to pilot them within reach of Wilmington, at least to Thomas Garrett's. Thus the father and mother, with their children and a young man named John, found aid and comfort on their way, with Harriet for their "Moses." A poor woman escaping from Baltimore in a delicate state, happened to meet Harriet's party at the station, and was forwarded on with them. They were cheered with clothing, food, and material aid, and sped on to Canada. Notes taken at that time were very brief; it was evidently deemed prudent in those days, not to keep as full reports as had been the wont of the secretary, prior to 1859. The capture of John Brown's papers and letters, with names and plans in full, admonished us that such papers and correspondence as had been preserved concerning the Underground Rail Road, might perchance be captured by a pro-slavery mob. For a year or more after the Harper's Ferry battle, as many will remember, the mob spirit of the times was very violent in all the principal northern cities, as well as southern ("to save the Union.") Even in Boston, Abolition meetings were fiercely assailed by the mob. During this period, the writer omitted some of the most important particulars in the escapes and narratives of fugitives. Books and papers were sent away for a long time, and during this time the records were kept simply on loose slips of paper.
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ARRIVAL FROM MARYLAND, 1860.
JERRY MILLS, AND WIFE, DIANA, SON, CORNELIUS, AND TWO DAUGHTERS, MARGARET, AND SUSAN.
The father of this family was sixty-five years of age, and his working days were apparently well nigh completed. The mother was fifty-seven years of age; son twenty-seven; daughters seventeen and fifteen years of age.
The old man was smart for his years, but bore evidence that much hard labor had been wrung out of him by Slavery. Diana said that she had been the mother of twelve children; five had escaped to Canada, three were in their graves, and three accompanied her; one was left in Maryland. They had seen hard times, according to the testimony of the old man and his companion, especially under David Snively, who, however, had been "removed by the Lord" a number of years prior to their escape; but the change proved no advantage to them, as they found Slavery no better under their mistress, the widow, than under their master. Mistress Snively was said to be close and stingy, and always unfriendly to the slave. "She never thought you were doing enough." For her hardness of heart they were sure she would repent some time, but not while she could hold slaves. The belief was pretty generally entertained with the slaves that the slaveholder would have to answer for his evil doings in another world.
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TWELVE MONTHS IN THE WOODS, 1860.
HENRY COTTON.
As a slave, subjected to the whims and passions of his master, Henry made up his mind that he could not stand it longer. The man who mastered it over him was called Nathaniel Dixon, and lived in Somerset Co., near Newtown. This Dixon was not content with his right to flog and abuse Henry as he saw fit, but he threatened to sell him, as he would sell a hog.
At this time Henry was about twenty-four years of age, but a man of more substantial parts physically was rarely to be seen. Courage was one of his prominent traits. This threat only served to arouse him completely. He had no friends save such as were in the same condition with himself, nevertheless he determined not to be sold. How he should escape this fate did not at first present itself. Every thing looked very gloomy; Slavery he considered as death to him; and since his master had threatened him, he looked upon him as his greatest enemy, and rather than continue a slave he preferred living in the swamps with wild animals. Just one year prior to the time that he made his way North, determined not to be a slave any longer, he fled to a swamp and made his way to the most secluded spot that he could find,--to places that were almost impenetrable so dense were the trees and undergrowth. This was all the better for Henry, he wanted to get safety; he did not wish company. He made known his plans to a dear brother, who engaged to furnish him occasionally with food. Henry passed twelve months in this way, beholding no human soul save his brother. His brother faithfully took him food from time to time. The winter weather of 1859 was very hard, but it was not so hard to bear as his master Nathaniel Dixon. The will of Henry's old master entitled him to his freedom, but the heirs had rendered said will null and void; this act in addition to the talk of selling had its effect in driving him to the woods. For a time he hid in the hollow of a tree, which went very hard with him, yet he was willing to suffer anything rather than go back to his so-called master. He managed finally to make good his escape and came to the Committee for aid and sympathy, which he received.
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ARRIVAL FROM MARYLAND.
WILLIAM PIERCE.
But few passengers expressed themselves in stronger terms in regard to their so-called masters, than William Pierce, from Long Green. "I fled," said he, "from John Hickol, a farmer, about fifty years old, grey-headed and drinks whiskey very hard--was always a big devil--ill-grained. He owned fifteen head; he owns three of my brothers. He has a wife, a big devil, red head; her servants, she wouldn't feed 'em none, except on corn bread; she would fight and swear too, when she got ready. She and her husband would quarrel too. A slave man, a deceitful fellow, who had been put up to watch on one occasion, when the rest of the slaves had helped themselves to a chicken, and cooked and ate it about midnight, though he was allowed to share a portion of the feast, was ready enough to betray them by times next morning. This made master and mistress 'cuss' all hands at a great rate, and master beat all hands except the one that told. I was caned so badly that it laid me up for several weeks. I am a little lame yet from the beating."
Such was William's story. He was twenty-three years of age, of a light brown color, well-made. Judging from his expressions and apparent feelings against his master and mistress, he would be willing to endure many years of suffering in Canada snows, before he would apply to them for care and protection.
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A SLAVE CATCHER CAUGHT IN HIS OWN TRAP.
GEORGE F. ALBERTI PERSONATED BY A MEMBER OF THE VIGILANCE COMMITTEE--A LADY FRIGHTENED BY A PLACARD.
One afternoon, the quiet of the Anti-Slavery Office was suddenly agitated by the contents of a letter, privately placed in the hands of J. Miller McKim by one of the clerks of the Philadelphia Ledger office. Said letter it would seem, had been dropped into the box of the Ledger office, instead of the U.S. box (one of which, was also in the Ledger office), through a mistake, and seeing that it bore the name of a well-known slave-catcher, Alberti, the clerk had a great desire to know its import. Whether it was or was not sealed, the writer cannot say, it certainly was not sealed when it reached the Anti-Slavery office. It stated that a lady from Maryland was then in Philadelphia, stopping at a boarding-house on Arch Street, and that she was very desirous of seeing the above-mentioned Alberti, with a view of obtaining his services to help catch an Underground Rail Road sojourner, whom she claimed as her property. That she wrote the letter could not be proved, but that it was sent by her consent, there was no doubt. In order to save the poor fellow from his impending doom, it seemed that nothing would avail but a bold strategical movement. Mr. McKim proposed to find some one who would be willing to answer for Alberti. Cyrus Whitson, a member of the Committee, in Mr. McKim's judgment, could manage the matter successfully. At that time, C. Whitson was engaged in the Free Labor store, at the corner of Fifth and Cherry streets, near the Anti-Slavery office. On being sent for, he immediately answered the summons, and Mr. McKim at once made known to him his plan, which was to save a fellow-man from being dragged back to bondage, by visiting the lady, and ascertaining from her in conversation the whereabouts of the fugitives, the names of the witnesses, and all the particulars. Nothing could have delighted the shrewd Whitson better; he saw just how he could effect the matter, without the slightest probable failure. So off he started for the boarding-house.
Arriving, he rang the bell, and when the servant appeared, he asked if Miss Wilson, from Maryland, was stopping there. "She is," was the answer. "I wish to see her." "Walk in the parlor, sir." In went Mr. W., with his big whiskers. Soon Miss Wilson entered the parlor, a tall, and rather fine-looking well dressed lady. Mr. Whitson bowing, politely addressed her, substantially thus:
"I have come to see you instead of Mr. Geo. F. Alberti, to whom you addressed a note, this morning. Circumstances, over which Mr. A. had no control, prevented his coming, so I have come, madam, to look after your business in his place. Now, madam, I wish it to be distinctly understood in the outset, that whatever transpires between us, so far as this business is concerned, must be kept strictly confidential, by no means, must this matter be allowed to leak out; if it does, the darned abolitionists (excuse me), may ruin me; at any rate we should not be able to succeed in getting your slave. I am particular on this point, remember."
"You are perfectly right, Sir, indeed I am very glad that your plan is to conduct this matter in this manner, for I do not want my name mixed up with it in any way."
"Very well, madam, I think we understand each other pretty well; now please give me the name of the fugitive, his age, size, and color, and where he may be found, how long he has been away, and the witness who can be relied on to identify him after he is arrested."
Miss Wilson carefully communicated these important particulars, while Mr. Whitson faithfully penciled down every word. At the close of the interview he gave her to understand that the matter should be attended to immediately, and that he thought there would be no difficulty in securing the fugitive. "You shall hear from me soon, madam, good afternoon."
In five minutes after this interview Whitson was back to the Anti-slavery Office with all Miss Wilson's secrets. The first thing to be attended was to send a messenger to the place where the fugitive was at work, with a view of securing his safety; this was a success. The man was found, and, frightened almost out of his wits, he dropped all and followed the messenger, who bore him the warning. In the meanwhile Mr. McKim was preparing, with great dispatch, the subjoined document for the enlightenment and warning of all.
TO WHOM IT MAY CONCEEN:
BEWARE OF SLAVE-CATCHERS.
Miss WILSON, of Georgetown Cross Roads, Kent county, Md., is now in the city in pursuit of her alleged slave man, BUTLER. J.M. Cummings and John Wilson, of the same place, are understood to be here on a similar errand. This is to caution BUTLER and his friends to be on their guard. Let them keep clear of the above-named individuals. Also, let them have an eye on all persons known to be friends of Dr. High, of Georgetown Cross Roads, and Mr. D.B. Cummings, who is not of Georgetown Cross Roads.
It is requested that all parties to whom a copy of this may be sent will post it in a public place, and that the friends of Freedom and Humanity will have the facts herein contained openly read in their respective churches.
"Hide the outcast; bewray not him that wandereth." Isaiah xvi. 3.
"Thou shalt not deliver unto his master the servant that has escaped from his master unto thee." Deut. xxiii. 15.
This document printed as a large poster, about three feet square, and displayed in large numbers over the city, attracted much attention and comment, which facts were quickly conveyed to Miss Wilson, at her boarding-house. At first, as it was understood, she was greatly shocked to find herself in everybody's mouth. She unhesitatingly took her baggage and started for "My Maryland." Thus ended one of the most pleasant interviews that ever took place between a slave-hunter and the Vigilance Committee of Philadelphia.
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ARRIVAL FROM RICHMOND, 1858.
HENRY LANGHORN alias WM. SCOTT.
This "chattel" from Richmond, Virginia, was of a yellow complexion, with some knowledge of the arts of reading and writing; he was about twenty-three years of age and considered himself in great danger of being subjected to the auction-block by one Charles L. Hobson. Hobson and Henry had grown up from boyhood together; for years they had even occupied the same room,--Henry as a servant-boy and protector of his prospective young master. Under these relations quite strong affinities were cemented between them, and Henry succeeded in gaining a knowledge of the alphabet with an occasional lesson in spelling. Both reached their majority. William was hired out at the American Hotel, and being a "smart, likely-looking boy," commanded good wages for his young master's benefit, who had commenced business as a tobacco merchant, with about seven head of slaves in his possession. A year or two's experiment proved that the young master was not succeeding as a merchant, and before the expiration of three years he had sold all his slaves except Henry. From such indications, Henry was fully persuaded that his time was well nigh at hand, and great was his anxiety as he meditated over the auction-block. "In his heart" he resolved time and again that he would never be sold. It behooved him, therefore, to avert that ill fate. He at first resolved to buy himself, but in counting the cost he found that he would by no means be able to accumulate as much money as his master would be likely to demand for him; he, therefore, abandoned this idea and turned his attention straightway to the Underground Rail Road, by which route he had often heard of slaves escaping. He felt the need of money and that he must make and save an extra quarter whenever he could; he soon learned to be a very rigid economist, and being exceedingly accommodating in waiting upon gentlemen at the hotel and at the springs, he found his little "pile" increasing weekly. His object was to have enough to pay for a private berth on one of the Richmond steamers and also to have a little left to fall back on after landing in a strange land and among strangers. He saved about two hundred dollars in cash; he was then ready to make a forward move, and he arranged all his plans with an agent in Richmond to leave by one of the steamers during the Christmas holidays. "You must come down to the steamer about dark," said the agent "and if all is right you will see the Underground Rail Road agent come out with some ashes as a signal, and by this you may know that all is ready."
"I will be there certain," said Henry. Christmas week he was confident would be granted as usual as a holiday week; a few days before Christmas he went to his master and asked permission to spend said holiday with his mother, in Cumberland county, adding that he would need some spending money, enough at least to pay his fare, etc. Young master freely granted his request, wrote him a pass, and doled him out enough money to pay his fare thence, but concluded that Henry could pay his way back out of his extra change. Henry expressed his obligations, etc., and returned to the American Hotel. The evening before the time appointed for starting on his Underground Rail Road voyage, he had occasion to go out to see the Underground Rail Road agent, and asked the clerk to give him a pass. This favor was peremptorily refused. Henry, "not willing to give it up so," sat down to write a pass for himself; he found it all that was necessary, and was thus enabled to accomplish his business satisfactorily. Next day his Christmas holiday commenced, but instead of his enjoying the sight of his mother, he felt that he had seen her for the last time in the flesh. It was a sad reflection. That evening at dark, he was at the wharf, according to promise. The man with the ashes immediately appeared and signalled him. In his three suits of clothing (all on his back), he walked on the boat, and was conducted to the coal covering, where Egyptian darkness prevailed. The appointed hour for the starting of the steamer, was ten o'clock the following morning. By the aid of prayer, he endured the suffering that night. No sooner had the steamer got under way, than a heavy gale was encountered; for between three and four days the gale and fog combined, threatened the steamer with a total loss. All the freight on deck, consisting of tobacco and cotton, had to be thrown overboard, to save the passengers.
Henry, in his state of darkness, saw nothing, nor could he know the imminent peril that his life was in. Fortunately he was not sea-sick, but slept well and long on the voyage. The steamer was five days coming. On landing at Philadelphia, Henry could scarcely see or walk; the spirit of freedom, however, was burning brightly in the hidden man, and the free gales of fresh air and a few hours on free soil soon enabled him to overcome the difficulties which first presented themselves, and he was soon one of the most joyful mortals living. He tarried two days with his friends in Philadelphia, and then hastened on to Boston. After being in Boston two months, he was passing through the market one day, when, to his surprise, he espied his young master, Charles L. Hobson. Henry was sure, however, that he was not recognized, but suspected that he was hunted. Instantly, Henry pulled up his coat collar, and drew his hat over his face to disguise himself as much as possible; but he could not wholly recover from the shock he had thus sustained. He turned aside from the market and soon met a friend formerly from Richmond, who had been in servitude in the tobacco factory owned by his master. Henry tried to prevail on him to spot out said Hobson, in the market, and see if there possibly could be any mistake. Not a step would his friend take in that direction. He had been away for several years, still he was a fugitive, and didn't like the idea of renewing his acquaintance with old or new friends with a white skin from Virginia. Henry, however, could not content himself until he had taken another good look at Mr. Hobson. Disguising himself he again took a stroll through the market, looking on the right and left as he passed along; presently he saw him seated at a butcher's stall. He examined him to his satisfaction, and then went speedily to headquarters (the Anti-Slavery Office), made known the fact of his discovery, and stated that he believed his master had no other errand to Boston than to capture him. Measures were at once taken to ascertain if such a man as Charles L. Hobson was booked at any of the hotels in Boston.
On finding that this was really a fact, Henry was offered and accepted private quarters with the well-known philanthropist and friend of the fugitive, Francis Jackson. His house as well as his purse was always open to the slave. While under the roof of Mr. Jackson, as Hobson advertised and described Henry so accurately, and offered a reward of two hundred and fifty dollars for him, Henry's friends thought that they would return him the compliment by publishing him in the Boston papers quite as accurately if not with as high a reward for him; they advertised him after this manner: "Charles L. Hobson, twenty-two years of age, six feet high, with a slouched hat on, mixed coat, black pants, with a goatee, is stopping at the Tremont Hotel," &c., &c. This was as a bomb-shell to Mr. Hobson, and he immediately took the hint, and with his trunks steered for the sunny South. In a day or two afterwards Henry deemed it advisable to visit Canada. After arriving there he wrote back to his young master, to let him know where he was, and why he left, and what he was doing. How his letter was received Henry was never informed. For five years he lived in Boston and ran on a boat trading to Canada East. He saved up his money and took care of himself creditably. He was soon prepared to go into some business that would pay him better than running on the boat. Two of his young friends agreed with him that they could do better in Philadelphia than in Boston, so they came to the City of Brotherly Love and opened a first-class dining-saloon near Third and Chestnut streets. For a time they carried on the business with enterprise and commendable credit, but one of the partners, disgusted with the prejudices of the city passenger railway cars, felt that he could no longer live here. Henry, known after leaving Slavery only by the name of Wm. Scott, quitted the restaurant business and found employment as a messenger under Thomas A. Scott, Esq., Vice-President of the Pennsylvania Central Rail Road, where he has faithfully served for the last four years, and has the prospect of filling the office for many years to come. He is an industrious, sober, steady, upright, and intelligent young man, and takes care of his wife and child in a comfortable three story brick house of his own.
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ARRIVAL FROM RICHMOND, 1859.
Miles Robinson was the slave of Mrs. Roberts, a widow lady living in York County, Virginia. He did not live with her, however, but was hired out in the city of Richmond. He had been fortunate in falling into hands that had not treated him harshly. He was not contented, however. Much of the leisure falling incidentally to his lot from hours of duty, he devoted to the banjo. As a player on this instrument he had become quite gifted, but music in Richmond was not liberty. The latter he craved, and in thought was often far beyond Mason and Dixon's line, enjoying that which was denied him in Virginia. Although but twenty-two years of age, Miles was manly, and determination and intelligence were traits strongly marked in his unusually well-shaped visage. Hearing that he was to be sold, he conferred not with his mother, brothers, or sisters, (for such he had living as slaves in Richmond) but resolved to escape by the first convenience. Turning his attention to the Underground Rail Road, he soon found an agent who communicated his wishes to one of the colored women running as cook or chambermaid on one of the Philadelphia and Richmond steamers, and she was bold enough to take charge of him, and found him a safe berth in one of the closets where the pots and other cooking utensils belonged. It was rather rough and trying, but Miles felt that it was for liberty, and he must pass through the ordeal without murmuring, which he did, until success was achieved and he found himself in Philadelphia. Boston being the haven on which his hopes were fixed, after recruiting a short while in the city he steered for said place. Finding liberty there as sweet as he had fondly hoped to find it, he applied himself unceasingly to industrial pursuits, economy, the improvement of his mind and the elevation of his race. Four years he passed thus, under the shadow of Bunker Hill, at the end of which time he invested the earnings, which he had saved, in a business with two young friends in Philadelphia. All being first-class waiters and understanding catering, they decided to open a large dining-saloon. Miles was one of the two friends mentioned in Wm. Scott's narrative, and as his success and consequent fortunes have been already referred to, it will suffice here to mention him simply in connection with two contests that he sustained with the prejudice that sought to drive colored people from the passenger cars.
At the corner of Fourth and Walnut streets Miles, in company with two other young men, Wallace and Marshall, one evening in a most orderly manner, entered the cars and took their seats. The conductor ordered them on the front platform; they did not budge. He stopped the car and ordered them out; this did no good. He read rules, and was not a little embarrassed by these polite and well-dressed young men. Finally he called for the police, who arrested all three. Miles did not yield his seat without a struggle. In being pulled out his resistance was such that several window lights were broken in the car. The police being in strong force, however, succeeded in marching their prisoners to the Mayor's police station at the corner of Fifth and Chestnut streets where they were locked up to await further investigation. The prisoners thought they were back in "old Virginny" again. Miles gritted his teeth and felt very indignant, but what could he do? The infamous prejudice against which they had borne testimony was controlling all the lines of city passenger railways in Philadelphia. While Miles and his friends were willing to suffer for a principle, the dirt, filth, cold, and disagreeableness of the quarters that they most likely would be compelled to occupy all night and the following day (Sunday) forbade submission. Added to this Miles felt that his young wife would hardly be able to contain herself while he was locked up. They sent for the writer to intercede for them.
At a late hour of the night, after going from the alderman's boardinghouse to a fire engine house and other places, where it was supposed that he might probably be found, on going a third time to his hotel, a little before midnight, he was discovered to be in bed, and it was then ascertained that he had not been out all the evening. The night was very stormy. We could not tell whether or not the fruitless chase on which we had been sent in search of the alderman, was in keeping with the spirit that had locked the men up, designed to mislead us; he condescended at last to appear, and accepted our offer to go bail for all of them, and finally issued a discharge. This was hastily delivered at the station, and the prisoners were released.
But Miles was not satisfied; he had breathed free air in Massachusetts for four years, and being a man of high spirit he felt that he must further test the prejudices of the cars. Consequently one very cold night, when a deep snow covered the pavements, he was out with his wife, and thought that he would ride; his wife being fair, he put her on the car at the corner of Third and Pine streets, and walked to the corner of Fourth and Pine streets, where he stepped into the car and took his seat. The conductor straightway ordered him out, on the plea of color. God had shaded him a little too much. "How is this, my wife is in this car," spake Miles. All eyes gazed around to see who his wife was. By this time the car had been stopped, and the wrath of the conductor was kindled prodigiously. He did not, however, lay violent hands upon Miles. A late decision in court had taught the police that they had no right to interfere, except in cases where the peace was actually being broken; so in order to get rid of this troublesome customer, the car was run off the track, the shivering passengers all leaving it, as though flying from a plague, with the exception of Miles, his wife, and another colored gentleman, who got on with Miles. The conductor then hoisted all the windows, took out the cushions, and unhitched the horses. But Miles and his party stood it bravely; Miles burning all the time with indignation at this exhibition of prejudice in the city of Brotherly Love. The war was then raging fiercely, and as Miles then felt, he was almost prepared to say, he didn't care which beat, as the woman said, when she saw her husband and the bear wrestling. He was compelled to admit that this prejudice was akin to slavery, and gave to slavery its chief support.
The occupants of the horseless car, which was being aired so thoroughly, remained in it for a length of time, until they had sufficiently borne their testimony, and they too quietly forsook it.
Prior to this event, by his industry and hard-earned savings, Miles had become the owner of a comfortable brick house, and had made up his mind to remain a citizen of Philadelphia, but the spirit which prompted the aforesaid treatment called up within him reflections somewhat similar to those aroused by Slavery, and it was not a great while before he offered his property for sale, including his business stand, resolving to return to Boston. He received an offer for his property, accepted it, pulled up stakes, and again hopefully turned his face thitherward. The ambitious Miles commenced business in Chelsea, near Boston, where he purchased himself a comfortable home; and he has ever since been successfully engaged in the sale of kerosene oil. Instead of seeking pleasure in the banjo, as he was wont to do in Virginia, he now finds delight in the Baptist Church, Rev. Mr. Grimes', of which he is a prominent member, and in other fields of usefulness tending to elevate and better the condition of society generally.
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End of part 39 of 56
Continue readingPart 39: Arrival from Richmond to Tom M'creary
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