The anticipation of being a free woman proved almost too much for my weak frame.  The excitement stimulated me, and at the same time bewildered me.  I made busy preparations for my journey, and for my son to follow me.  I resolved to have an interview with him before I went, that I might give him cautions and advice, and tell him how anxiously I should be waiting for him at the north.  Grandmother stole up to me as often as possible to whisper words of counsel.  She insisted upon writing to Dr. Flint, as soon as I arrived in the Free States, and asking him to sell me to her.  She said she would sacrifice her house, and all she had in the world, for the sake of having me safe with my children in any part of the world.  If she could only live to know that she could die in peace.  I promised the dear old faithful friend that I would write to her as soon as I arrived, and put the letter in a safe way to reach her; but in my own mind I resolved that not another cent of her hard earnings should be spent to pay rapacious slaveholders for what they called their property.  And even if I had not been unwilling to buy what I had already a right to possess, common humanity would have prevented me from accepting the generous offer, at the expense of turning my aged relative out of house and home, when she was trembling on the brink of the grave.

I was to escape in a vessel; but I forbear to mention any further particulars.  I was in readiness, but the vessel was unexpectedly detained several days.  Meantime, news came to town of a most horrible murder committed on a fugitive slave, named James.  Charity, the mother of this unfortunate young man, had been an old acquaintance of ours.  I have told the shocking particulars of his death, in my description of some of the neighboring slaveholders.  My grandmother, always nervously sensitive about runaways, was terribly frightened.  She felt sure that a similar fate awaited me, if I did not desist from my enterprise.  She sobbed, and groaned, and entreated me not to go.  Her excessive fear was somewhat contagious, and my heart was not proof against her extreme agony.  I was grievously disappointed, but I promised to relinquish my project.

When my friend Peter was apprised of this, he was both disappointed and vexed.  He said, that judging from our past experience, it would be a long time before I had such another chance to throw away.  I told him it need not be thrown away; that I had a friend concealed near by, who would be glad enough to take the place that had been provided for me.  I told him about poor Fanny, and the kind-hearted, noble fellow, who never turned his back upon any body in distress, white or black, expressed his readiness to help her.  Aggie was much surprised when she found that we knew her secret.  She was rejoiced to hear of such a chance for Fanny, and arrangements were made for her to go on board the vessel the next night.  They both supposed that I had long been