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UNDERGROUND RAILROAD.
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were no hopes of success. He then walked away in another direction from whence he came.

“When he was gone, Tom arose and said, ‘Vengeance is mine, I will repay, saith the Lord. I hear that a great many white people pray that God will come down and deliver us, and he will come sure. Let us pray.’ They all knelt while Tom prayed, not for the destruction of their enemies, but that they might repent and deliver the poor slaves from bondage. I came away before he closed his prayer.”

The next morning, about two hours before daylight? our train crossed the Cattaraugus creek on the ice, carrying Jim and his companions towards Canada. Mr. Frink was up and saw the fugitives start, and about sunrise he left for home. When passing a watering trough at the west end of the village, a man was there letting his horse drink. The man spoke to Mr. Frink, and said, “Do you live here, sir?” “No,” said Mr. Frink, “Are you acquainted about here?” “Yes,” replied Mr. Frink. “Well, can you tell me if there are any abolitionists in this town?” “There may be,” said Mr. Frink, “though I could hardly tell who they are. My brother says, ‘we are all Democrats here.’” Mr. Frink had mistrusted the fellow at first sight, and the slave catcher, for it was he, thought, no doubt, that Frink was not an abolitionist, else he would know more about it than he seemed to, so he told his business and offered to pay him handsomely if he would help find the fugitives. “Which way did 5mu come?” said Frink. “From the village of Fredonia,” was the reply. “I hired this horse there, and supposed I was on the right track, but have not been able to trace the fugitives anywhere this side of that town.”

“Did you call on Dr. J. Pettit?”

“No: where does he live?”