My heart bleeds when I think of those poor, hunted and
heart-broken fugitives, though a most interesting family, taken back to bondage
ten-fold worse than Egyptian. And then poor Concklin! How my heart expanded in
love to him, as he told me his adventures, his trials, his toils, his fears and
his hopes! After hearing all, and then seeing and communing with the family,
now joyful in hopes of soon seeing their husband and father in the land of
freedom; now in terror lest the human blood-hounds should be at their heels, I
felt as though I could lay down my life in the cause of the oppressed. In that
hour or two of intercourse with Peter’s family, my heart warmed with love to
them. I never saw more interesting young men. They would make Remonds or
Douglasses, if they had the same opportunities.
While I was with them, I was elated with joy at their
escape, and yet, when I heard their tale of woe, especially that of the mother,
I could not suppress tears of deepest My joy was short-lived. Soon I heard of
their capture. The telegraph had been the means of their being claimed. I could
have torn down all the telegraph wires in the land. It was a strange
dispensation of Providence.
On Saturday the sad news of their capture came to my ears.
We had resolved to go to their aid on Monday, as the trial was set for
Thursday. On Sabbath, I spoke from Psalm xii. 5. “For the oppression of the
poor, for the sighing of the needy, now will I arise,” saith the Lord: “I will
set him in safety from him that puffeth at (from them that would enslave) him.”
When on Monday morning I learned that the fugitives had passed through the
place on Sabbath, and Concklin in chains, probably at the very time I was
speaking on the subject referred to, my heart sank within me. And even yet, I cannot
but exclaim, when I think of it — O, Father! how long ere Thou wilt arise to
avenge the wrongs of the poor slave! Indeed, my dear brother, His ways are very
mysterious. We have the consolation, however, to know that all is for the best.
Our Redeemer does all things well. When He hung upon the cross, His poor
broken-hearted disciples could not understand the providence; it was a dark
time to them; and yet that was an event that was fraught with more joy to the
world than any that has occurred or could occur. Let us stand at our post and
wait God's time. Let us have on the whole armor of God, and fight for the
right, knowing, that though we may fall in battle, the victory will be ours,
sooner or later.
* * * * * * * * * *
May God lead you into all truth, and sustain you in your
labors, and fulfill your prayers
and hopes.
Adieu.
N. R. JOHNSTON.
SOURCE: William Still, The Underground Railroad: A
Record of Facts, Authentic Narratives, Letters &c., p. 32-3
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