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brought to bear on them through the agency of white men, whose chains they had worn, and whose stripes they had felt. Our hero was deserted in time of great necessity: these cowardly Slaves quietly stood, at the command of the tyrants, until fettered with hand-cuffs and chains. Their leader resisted, till both his arms were broken, and his body otherwise abused. When conquered, and he was fairly in their possession, all hopes of escape fled, Freedom was to him as a morning's dream. On opening the eye her beautiful form disappeared. And in her stead, was the frightful ghost of Slavery, looking him directly in the face. With broken arms and a mangled body, cold iron encircling his manly frame, with a heart yet beating for liberty, placing no value upon his existence, throwing back his broad shoulders, his chest projecting, said, "put a ball in that! I don't wish to live any longer." I have taken away hundreds of Slaves,—Kill me: if my men had fought, I would have saved them." Though he had changed his name, as most Slaves do on running away, he told his master's name, and to him he was delivered. He was eventually sold and was taken to New Orleans, more than 1,000 miles from where he then was, and not less than 1,800 miles from Canada. Yet in one year, 5 months, and 20 days, I received a letter from this man, John Mason, from Hamilton, Canada West. Let a man walk abroad on
