Watson Brown to Isabel Thompson Brown, between September & October 16, 1859

We have only two black men with us now; one of these has a wife and seven children in slavery. I sometimes feel as though I could not make the sacrifice; but what would I want others to do, were I in their place? . . . Oh, Bell, I do want to see you and the little fellow [the young babe born in the father's absence] very much, but I must wait. There was a slave near here whose wife was sold off South the other day, and he was found in Thomas Kennedy's orchard, dead, the next morning. Cannot come home so long as such things are done here. . . . I sometimes think perhaps we shall not meet again. If we should not, you have an object to live for, — to be a mother to our little Fred. He is not quite a reality to me yet. We leave here this afternoon or to-morrow for the last time. You will probably hear from us very soon after getting this, if not before. We are all eager for the work, and confident of success. There was another murder committed near our place the other day, making in all five murders and one suicide within five miles of our place since we have lived there; they were all slaves, too. . . . Give my regards to all the friends, and keep up good courage: there is a better day a-coming. I can but commend you to yourself and your friends if I should never see you again. Believe me yours wholly and forever in love.

Your husband,

Watson Brown.¹

_______________

¹ Watson was just twenty-four, and had been married for three years to Isabel Thompson, whose brothers William and Dauphin Thompson, like her husband and brother-in-law, were killed at Harper's Ferry.

SOURCE: Franklin B. Sanborn, The Life and Letters of John Brown, p. 549

William Brinkly to a Member of the Vigilance Committee of Philadelphia, March 23, 1857

CAMDEN, DEL., March 23d, 1857.

DEAR SIR:— I tak my pen in hand to write to you, to inform you what we have had to go throw for the last two weaks. Thir wir six men and two woman was betraid on the tenth of this month, thea had them in prison but thea got out was conveyed by a black man, he told them he wood bring them to my hows, as he wos told, he had ben ther Befor, he has com with Harrett, a woman that stops at my hous when she pases tow and throw yau. You don't no me I supos, the Rev. Thomas H. Kennard dos, or Peter Lowis. He Road Camden Circuit, this man led them in dover prisin and left them with a whit man; but the tour out the winders and jump out, so cum back to camden. We put them throug, we hav to carry them 19 mils and cum back the sam night wich maks 38 mils. It is tou much for our littel horses. We must do the bes we can, ther is much Bisness dun on this Road. We hav to go throw dover and smerny, the two wors places this sid of mary land lin. If you have herd or sean them ples let me no. I will Com to Phila be for long and then I will call and so you. There is much to do her. Ples to wright,

I Remain your frend,

WILLIAM BRINKLY.

Remember me to Them. Kennard.

SOURCE: William Still, The Underground Railroad: A Record of Facts, Authentic Narratives, Letters &c., p. 74

A Black Man's Introduction To White Man's Liberty

A letter in the Cincinnati Enquirer, from a member of Company K, 1st Iowa Cavalry, relates how a fugitive slave was introduced to freedom. His master appeared at Camp Benton, St. Louis, to recover him, when he was ordered off by a corporal of the Iowa cavalry. So soon as he was gone, the negro appeared from under a bundle of sacks in one corner of the corporal’s quarters. The rest is thus told by the letter writer:

“Innumerable questions were being propounded to him, when the corporal advanced, observing, “see here, Dixie, before you can enter the service of the United States, you must be sworn.” “Yes, massa, I do dat,” he replied, when the corporal continued, “Well then take hold of the Bible” – holding out a letter envelope upon which was delineated the Goddess of Liberty standing upon a Suffolk Pig, wearing the emblem of our country. The negro grasped the envelope cautiously with his thumb and forefinger, when the corporal proceeded to administer the oath by saying: “You do solemnly swear that you will support the constitution of the United States, and see that there are no grounds floating upon the coffee at all times.” – “Yes, massa, I do dat,” he replied, “I allers settle him in de coffee pot.” Here he let go of the envelope to gesticulate by a downward thrust of the forefinger, the direction that would be given to the coffee grounds for the future. “Never mind how you do it, shouted the corporal, “but hold onto the Bible.” “Lordy massy, I forgot,” said the negro as he darted forward and grasped the envelope with a firmer clutch, when the corporal continued – “and do you solemnly swear that you will support the Constitution of the loyal States and not spit upon the plates when cleaning them, or wipe them with your shirt sleeve.” Here a frown lowered upon the brow of the negro, his eyes expanded to their largest dimensions, while his lips protruded with a round form, as he exclaimed, “Lordy massa, I nebber do dat; I allers wash him nice; ole missus mighty ‘ticular ‘bout dat.” “Never mind ole missus,” shouted the corporal, as he resumed – “and you do solemnly swear that you will put milk in the coffee every morning, and see that the ham and eggs are not cooked too much or too little. “Yes, I do dat; I’s a good cook.” – “And lastly,” continued the corporal, “you do solemnly swear that when this war is over you’ll make tracks for Africa almighty fast.” “Yes, Massa, I do dat. I allers wanted to go to Cheecargo.” Here the regimental drums beat up for dress parade, when Tom Bonton (That being his name) was declared duly sworn in and commissioned as chief cook in Company K of the first Iowa Cavalry.

– Published in The Burlington Weekly Hawk-Eye, Burlington, Iowa, Saturday, May 3, 1862, p. 4