“I’m sure thee’s welcome,” said Anna, handing him a chair, “sit down, thee looks very tired.  Where did thee come from?”

Moses, that was the fugitive’s name, hesitated a moment.

“Oh, never fear, thee’s among friends; thee need not be afraid to tell all about thyself.”

Moses then told them that he had come from Kentucky.

“And how did thee escape?”

He said, “I walked from Lexington to Covington.”

“Why, that was almost one hundred miles, and did thee walk all that way?”

“Yes, sir,” said he, “I hid by day, and walked by night.”

“Did no one interrupt?”

“Yes, one man said to me, ‘Where’s your pass?’ I suppose I must have grown desperate, for I raised my fists and said dem’s my passes; and he let me alone.  I don’t know whether he was friendly or scared, but he let me alone.”

“And how then?”

“When I come to Covington I found that I could not come across the river without a pass, but I watched my chance, and hid myself on a boat, and I got across.  I’d heard of you down home.”

“How did you?”

“Oh, we’s got some few friends dere, but we allers promise not to tell.”

Anna and Thomas[3] smiled at his reticence, which had grown into a habit.

“Were you badly treated?”

“Not so bad as some, but I allers wanted my freedom, I did.”

“Well, we will not talk about thee any more; if thee walked all that distance thee must be very tired and we’ll let thee rest.  There’s thy bed.  I hope thee’ll have a good night’s rest, and feel better in the morning.”

“Thankee marm,” said Moses, “you’s mighty good.”

“Oh no, but I always like to do my duty by my fellow men!  Now, be quiet, and get a good night’s sleep.  Thee looks excited.  Thee mustn’t be uneasy.  Thee’s among friends.”

A flood of emotions crept over the bosom of Moses when his kind friends left the room.  Was this freedom, and was this the long wished for North? and were these the Abolitionists of whom he had heard so much in the South?  They who would allure the colored people from their homes in the South and then leave them to freeze and starve in the North?  He had heard all his life that the slaveholders were the friends of the South, and the language of his soul had been, “If these are my friends, save me from my foes.”  He had lived all his life among the white people of the South, and had been owned by several masters, but he did not know that there was so much kindness among the white race, till he had rested in a Northern home, and among Northern people.

Here kindness encouraged his path, and in that peaceful home every voice that fell upon his ear was full of tenderness and sympathy.  True, there were rough, coarse, brutal men even in that village, who for a few dollars or to prove their devotion to the South, would have readily remanded him to his master, but he was not aware of that.  And so when he sank to his rest a sense of peace and safety stole over him, and his sleep was as calm and peaceful as the slumber of a child.