University of Virginia Library


138

RUTH.

A Ballad of '36.

“Thee must turn the cows out, Benny, for I heard father say,
They were to go into the meadow, before he went away,
And let old Doll go with them, she'll have a day of rest;
For I cannot go to meeting, I know't would not be best.
O Benny, I'm so troubled, I could not sleep last night,
For thinking of that woman; I'm afraid it is'nt right
To keep her here much longer, since father's so well known
As being an Abolitionist, Oh, I wish he were at home!
I think I would feel better, if thee'd take the time to go
To Avondale, to see friend Brown; for he would surely know,
If there is any danger; and do not forget to say
That father went with mother to Quarterly yesterday,”

139

She stood within the door-way; and watched her brother ride,
Where the road wound through the valley, with the little stream beside,
Among the new leafed maples, the robins gaily flew,
And the air was sweet with violets, that round the door-step grew.
She looked upon the valley, and the sloping hills of green;
And thought a place more lovely, was rarely to be seen.
It was a goodly heritage, but alas! that there should be
The blighting stain upon it, of human slavery!
While yet she gazed, a horseman rode swiftly down the hill,
And up the lane he hurried; her very heart stood still.
He waved his hand in greeting, and as he nearer drew;
She saw 'twas neighbor Jackson, a friend right brave and true.
“Ho, Ruth!” he cried, as quickly she hastened to the gate,
“The woman's master's coming, and I have no time to wait.
Our house they now are searching, and I away must ride;
To call the neighbors round me, and rouse the country side.”

140

“What shall I do?” she murmured, in a low and frightened tone,
“If they should come and find her, for I'm here all alone?”
“Do what thee can, fear nothing, they'll harm thee not, I know;
And we will save the woman, so onward I must go.”
There came an inspiration, as she saw him ride away,
For she heard a low voice saying: Thy people meet to-day!
Then up the garret stairway, with lightning speed she flew,
And from her place of hiding the frightened woman drew.
Right quickly she arrayed her, in her mother's shawl and gown;
And in the plain drab bonnet, she hid the face so brown,
Her thick green veil was doubled, to shield her from the sun,
“Now thee will pass for mother,” she said, when all was done.
Then out into the meadow, with eager steps she sped,
And patient quiet Dolly, by her hand was homeward led;
And deftly moved her fingers to buckle trace and band,
While anxious eyes were gazing, far over all the land.

141

O, the maiden's heart was beating, as through the valley wide,
She drove out in the wagon, with the woman at her side;
She knew that she was bearding the lion in his den,
For sweeping down the valley, came the master and his men!
She felt the woman tremble, and her pale cheeks paler grew,
And quickened were her heart throbs, as the horsemen nearer drew,
Then close, beside the wagon, they stayed the bridle rein;
And looked within right boldly, and found their quest in vain!
One cried, as on they hurried, “O the Quakers meet to pray,
But this maid and her mother, will be there late to-day.”
Ah, little dreamed the master, as he spurred his weary steed,
How near he had been to grasping—the object of his greed.
Right onward pressed the maiden, to neighbor Jackson's door,
And gave the poor slave trembling, to their friendly care once more.
And great was her rejoicing; as she took her homeward way,
That she had foiled the hunters, and snatched from them their prey.
 

An incident related in the life of Dr. Ann Preston.