wrist to a long bar of iron. The women were not fettered, some of them carried infants in their arms, and some children rode on the wagon with the corn on which they all were fed. They soon started toward a steamboat lying at the levee, and were shipped for the New Orleans market. This was the first drove of slaves I had ever seen, and being a little excited, I made a remark to the Quaker which the landlord overheard, and touching my shoulder, he beckoned me to go with him. We went aside, and he said to me, “You are going to Kentucky, and I advise you to beware how you speak of these things. There are men in this place, who, had they heard that remark, would have had you in jail in a hurry. I hope you will heed my advice.”
An incident that occurred on the U. G. R. R., not many months after, brought vividly to my remembrance the kind-hearted, unselfish landlord of the City Hotel in Wheeling. It was on a bitter cold day in December that a sleigh was driven into Fredonia, N. Y. ; the driver had made some inquiries, (for this was his first trip as conductor,) and turned his team down fhe creek in search of a depot. It was late in the evening, and the road was badly drifted, but the train went through and made connection as usual. The passenger came out from under the driver’s seat, shook off the blankets and Buffalo robes that had hid him and kept him warm. He was not inclined to talk at first, but a hearty welcome, a warm supper, and the assurance that he was safe from his pursuers, induced him to give a brief account of his adventures. He said:
“I have always lived in Loudoun County, Virginia. My mother was the cook, and I worked about the house, and sometimes traveled with master,—went to Washington, Baltimore, Cumberland, and once to Wheeling, on
