witness the result.  It became evident, however, that the poor man must be given up to his grasping master, unless some means were devised to rescue him from the power of an unjust law.  His friends were on the alert, and as the trial proceeded, the colored men found an opportunity to get him into a corner of the crowded apartment; where, while the officers stood at the door, they dressed him in disguise, and otherwise so completely changed his personal appearance, that he passed out of the Court room, undetected by the officers, and as all supposed was safely pursuing his way to Canada.

The hawk-eyed counsel for the Kentuckians, however, too soon observed exultation written on every dusky countenance, to keep quiet.  Starting to his feet in great alarm, he cried out “Where is Davis?” And oh, how that question startled every one present.  Every eye gazed hither and thither, and every ear intently listened for the answer.  After a moment of breathless silence, the excited counselor was assured that the “bird had flown,” which announcement was received with a rapturous shout of joy by the audience, greatly, however, to the discomfiture of the gentlemen from Kentucky, who had thought themselves so sure of their prize.  Nor would they be thwarted now.  It was not yet too late to overtake their victim, and slavery required at their hands a sacrifice which they were ready to make.  Hand-bills were in immediate circulation, offering a reward of fifty dollars for the apprehension of the flying fugitive.  Fifty dollars, for the body and soul of a man to plunge into the degradation of Slavery!  Fifty dollars for the ruin of a fellow being, for whom Christ gave his precious life!  Yes, fifty dollars are offered to any human blood-hound who will hunt and worry the poor slave, who must fly from this boasted land of liberty, to seek protection in the dominion of England’s Queen!

Unfortunately for Davis, some of these hand-bills were thrown on board the very packet on which he had embarked for Buffalo; nor was this all.  The bills would have left him uninjured, but a scoundrel—­an apology for a man—­was there also, who, for the consideration of fifty dollars was willing to compromise all pretensions to manhood and humanity, and drag from the boat the panting slave, whom he cast beneath the heel of his oppressor.  When Davis was finally retaken, those Kentucky dealers in human chattels, held him with a grasp that banished all hope of escape by flight; and then in his sorrow and despair the wretched, hopeless man cried out “Oh, my God, must I return to the hell of Slavery?  Save me, Oh, dear Lord, save this, thy helpless, friendless servant, from a fate so dreadful!  Oh, Christian friends and neighbors, I appeal to you to rescue me from a life far more terrible than death in any form!  Oh, God, is there no protection for me in the laws of New York?  I claim it, by all that is sacred in her past history!  Give me liberty or death! or death!” he repeated, with a shudder; then casting one glance of hopeless agony on his persecutors, he secretly drew from his pocket a razor, and before he could be prevented he drew it across his throat, and fell gasping in the midst of his slave-hunting tormentors, while a collection of bystanders cried “Shame! shame! on the institution of Slavery!”