 | Incidents in the life of a slave girl |  |
XXXI.
INCIDENTS IN PHILADELPHIA.
I had heard that the poor slave had many friends at
the north. I trusted we should find some of them.
Meantime, we would take it for granted that all were
friends, till they proved to the contrary. I sought out
the kind captain, thanked him for his attentions, and
told him I should never cease to be grateful for the
service he had rendered us. I gave him a message to
the friends I had left at home, and he promised to
deliver it. We were placed in a row-boat, and in about
fifteen minutes were landed on a wood wharf in Philadelphia.
As I stood looking round, the friendly captain
touched me on the shoulder, and said, “There is
a respectable-looking colored man behind you. I will
speak to him about the New York trains, and tell him
you wish to go directly on.” I thanked him, and asked
him to direct me to some shops where I could buy
gloves and veils. He did so, and said he would talk
with the colored man till I returned. I made what
haste I could. Constant exercise on board the vessel,
and frequent rubbing with salt water, had nearly restored
the use of my limbs. The noise of the great
city confused me, but I found the shops, and bought
some double veils and gloves for Fanny and myself.
The shopman told me they were so many levies. I
had never heard the word before, but I did not tell
him so. I thought if he knew I was a stranger he
piece, and when he returned the change, I counted it,
and found out how much a levy was. I made my way
back to the wharf, where the captain introduced me to
the colored man, as the Rev. Jeremiah Durham, minister
of Bethel church. He took me by the hand, as
if I had been an old friend. He told us we were too
late for the morning cars to New York, and must wait
until the evening, or the next morning. He invited
me to go home with him, assuring me that his wife
would give me a cordial welcome; and for my friend he
would provide a home with one of his neighbors. I
thanked him for so much kindness to strangers, and
told him if I must be detained, I should like to hunt
up some people who formerly went from our part of
the country. Mr. Durham insisted that I should dine
with him, and then he would assist me in finding my
friends. The sailors came to bid us good by. I shook
their hardy hands, with tears in my eyes. They had
all been kind to us, and they had rendered us a greater
service than they could possibly conceive of.
I had never seen so large a city, or been in contact
with so many people in the streets. It seemed as if
those who passed looked at us with an expression of
curiosity. My face was so blistered and peeled, by
sitting on deck, in wind and sunshine, that I thought
they could not easily decide to what nation I belonged.
Mrs. Durham met me with a kindly welcome, without
asking any questions. I was tired, and her friendly
manner was a sweet refreshment. God bless her! I
was sure that she had comforted other weary hearts,
before I received her sympathy. She was surrounded
by protecting laws. I thought of my own children,
and sighed.
After dinner Mr. Durham went with me in quest of
the friends I had spoken of. They went from my native
town, and I anticipated much pleasure in looking
on familiar faces. They were not at home, and we
retraced our steps through streets delightfully clean.
On the way, Mr. Durham observed that I had spoken
to him of a daughter I expected to meet; that he was
surprised, for I looked so young he had taken me for
a single woman. He was approaching a subject on
which I was extremely sensitive. He would ask about
my husband next, I thought, and if I answered him
truly, what would he think of me? I told him I had
two children, one in New York the other at the south.
He asked some further questions, and I frankly told
him some of the most important events of my life. It
was painful for me to do it; but I would not deceive
him. If he was desirous of being my friend, I thought
he ought to know how far I was worthy of it. “Excuse
me, if I have tried your feelings,” said he. “I
did not question you from idle curiosity. I wanted to
understand your situation, in order to know whether
I could be of any service to you, or your little girl.
Your straight-forward answers do you credit; but
don't answer every body so openly. It might give
some heartless people a pretext for treating you with
contempt.”
That word contempt burned me like coals of fire. I
replied, “God alone knows how I have suffered; and
He, I trust, will forgive me. If I am permitted to
to live in such a manner that people cannot treat me
with contempt.”
“I respect your sentiments,” said he. “Place your
trust in God, and be governed by good principles, and
you will not fail to find friends.”
When we reached home, I went to my room, glad to
shut out the world for a while. The words he had
spoken made an indelible impression upon me. They
brought up great shadows from the mournful past. In
the midst of my meditations I was startled by a knock
at the door. Mrs. Durham entered, her face all beaming
with kindness, to say that there was an anti-slavery
friend down stairs, who would like to see me. I overcame
my dread of encountering strangers, and went
with her. Many questions were asked concerning my
experiences, and my escape from slavery; but I observed
how careful they all were not to say any thing
that might wound my feelings. How gratifying this
was, can be fully understood only by those who have
been accustomed to be treated as if they were not included
within the pale of human beings. The anti-slavery
friend had come to inquire into my plans, and
to offer assistance, if needed. Fanny was comfortably
established, for the present, with a friend of Mr. Durham.
The Anti-Slavery Society agreed to pay her expenses
to New York. The same was offered to me,
but I declined to accept it; telling them that my grandmother
had given me sufficient to pay my expenses to
the end of my journey. We were urged to remain in
Philadelphia a few days, until some suitable escort
could be found for us. I gladly accepted the proposition,
some dread also of railroads. I had never entered a
railroad car in my life, and it seemed to me quite an
important event.
That night I sought my pillow with feelings I had
never carried to it before. I verily believed myself to
be a free woman. I was wakeful for a long time, and
I had no sooner fallen asleep, than I was roused by
fire-bells. I jumped up, and hurried on my clothes.
Where I came from, every body hastened to dress
themselves on such occasions. The white people
thought a great fire might be used as a good opportunity
for insurrection, and that it was best to be in
readiness; and the colored people were ordered out to
labor in extinguishing the flames. There was but one
engine in our town, and colored women and children
were often required to drag it to the river's edge and
fill it. Mrs. Durham's daughter slept in the same
room with me, and seeing that she slept through all the
din, I thought it was my duty to wake her. “What's
the matter?” said she, rubbing her eyes.
“They're screaming fire in the streets, and the bells
are ringing,” I replied.
“What of that?” said she, drowsily. “We are
used to it. We never get up, without the fire is very
near. What good would it do?”
I was quite surprised that it was not necessary for
us to go and help fill the engine. I was an ignorant
child, just beginning to learn how things went on in
great cities.
At daylight, I heard women crying fresh fish, berries,
radishes, and various other things. All this was
sat at the window to watch that unknown tide of life.
Philadelphia seemed to me a wonderfully great place.
At the breakfast table, my idea of going out to drag
the engine was laughed over, and I joined in the mirth.
I went to see Fanny, and found her so well contented
among her new friends that she was in no haste
to leave. I was also very happy with my kind hostess.
She had had advantages for education, and was vastly
my superior. Every day, almost every hour, I was
adding to my little stock of knowledge. She took me
out to see the city as much as she deemed prudent.
One day she took me to an artist's room, and showed
me the portraits of some of her children. I had never
seen any paintings of colored people before, and they
seemed to me beautiful.
At the end of five days, one of Mrs. Durham's friends
offered to accompany us to New York the following
morning. As I held the hand of my good hostess in
a parting clasp, I longed to know whether her husband
had repeated to her what I had told him. I supposed
he had, but she never made any allusion to it. I presume
it was the delicate silence of womanly sympathy.
When Mr. Durham handed us our tickets, he said,
“I am afraid you will have a disagreeable ride; but I
could not procure tickets for the first class cars.”
Supposing I had not given him money enough, I
offered more. “O, no,” said he, “they could not be
had for any money. They don't allow colored people
to go in the first-class cars.”
This was the first chill to my enthusiasm about the
Free States. Colored people were allowed to ride in a
they were not required to pay for the privilege. It
made me sad to find how the north aped the customs
of slavery.
We were stowed away in a large, rough car, with
windows on each side, too high for us to look out without
standing up. It was crowded with people, apparently
of all nations. There were plenty of beds and
cradles, containing screaming and kicking babies.
Every other man had a cigar or pipe in his mouth,
and jugs of whiskey were handed round freely. The
fumes of the whiskey and the dense tobacco smoke
were sickening to my senses, and my mind was equally
nauseated by the coarse jokes and ribald songs around
me. It was a very disagreeable ride. Since that time
there has been some improvement in these matters.
| Incidents in the life of a slave girl | |