Inadvertently at the time of their arrival, the names of the State and place whence they fled were not entered on the book.

In traveling they suffered severely from hunger and the long distance they had to walk, but having succeeded victoriously they were prepared to rejoice all the more.

DAVID EDWARDS.  John J. Slater, coachmaker of Petersburg, Virginia, if he is still living, and should see these items, may solve what may have been for years a great mystery to him—­namely, that David, his man-servant, was enjoying himself in Philadelphia about the first week in January, 1855, receiving free accommodations and obtaining letters of introduction to friends in Canada.  Furthermore, that David alleged that he was induced to escape because he (the coachmaker) was a very hard man, who took every dollar of his earnings, from which he would dole out to him only one dollar a week for board, etc., a sum less than David could manage to get along with.

David was thirty years of age, black, weighed one hundred and forty-five pounds, and was worth one thousand dollars.  He left his wife behind.

BEVERLY GOOD and GEORGE WALKER, alias Austin Valentine.  These passengers came from Petersburg, per steamship Pennsylvania.  Richard Perry was lording it over Beverly, who was a young man of twenty-four years of age, dark, medium size, and possessed of a quick intellect—­just the man that an Underground Rail Road agent in the South could approach with assurance with questions such as these—­“What do you think of Slavery?” “Did you ever hear of the Underground Rail Road?” “How would you like to be free?” “Would you be willing to go to Canada if you could get off safely,” etc., etc.

Such questions at once kindled into a flame the sparks of freedom lying dormant in the heart.  Although uttered in a whisper, they had a wondrous ring about them, and a wide-awake bondman instantly grasped their meaning.  Beverly was of this class; he needed no arguments to prove that he was daily robbed of his rights—­that Slavery was merciless and freedom the God-given right of all mankind.  Of him, therefore, there was no fear that he would betray his trust or flinch too soon when cramped up in his hiding-place on the steamer.

His comrade, George, was likewise of the same mettle, and was aided in the same way.  George, however, had more age on his side, being about forty-three.  He was about six feet high, with marked physical and mental abilities, but Slavery had had its heel upon his neck.  And who could then have risen?

Eliza Jones held the deed for George, and by her he was hired as foreman in a tobacco factory, in which position his duties were onerous—­especially to one with a heavy, bleeding heart, throbbing daily for freedom, while, at the same time, mournfully brooding over past wrongs.  Of these wrongs one incident must suffice.  He had been married twice, and had been the father of six children by his first wife; at the command of his owner the wedded relations were abruptly broken, and he was obliged to seek another wife.  In entering this story on the book at the time of the arrival, the concluding words were written thus:  “This story is thrilling, but time will not allow its being penned.”