Charles was duly forwarded to Canada to shake hands with the Lion’s paw, and from the accounts which came from him to the Committee, he was highly delighted. The following letter from him afforded gratifying evidence, that he neither forgot his God nor his friends in freedom:
DETROIT, Sept. 17, 1862.
DEAR BROTHER IN CHRIST—It affords me the greatest pleasure imaginable in the time I shall occupy in penning these few lines to you and your dear loving wife, not because I can write them to you myself, but for the love and regard I have for you, for I never can forget a man who will show kindness to his neighbor when in distress. I remember when I was in distress and out of doors, you took me in; I was hungry, and you fed me; for these things God will reward you, dear brother. I am getting along as well as I can expect. Since I have been out here, I have endeavored to make every day tell for itself, and I can say, no doubt, what a great many men cannot say, that I have made good use of all the time that God has given me, and not one week has been spent in idleness. Brother William, I expect to visit you some time next summer to sit and have a talk with you and Mrs. Still. I hope to see that time, if it is God’s will. You will remember me, with my wife, to Mrs. Still. Give my best respects to all inquiring friends, and believe me to be yours forever. Well wishes both soul and body. Please write to me sometimes.
* * * * *
BLOOD FLOWED FREELY.
ABRAM GALLOWAY AND RICHARD EDEN, TWO PASSENGERS SECRETED IN A VESSEL LOADED WITH SPIRITS OF TURPENTINE. SHROUDS PREPARED TO PREVENT BEING SMOKED TO DEATH.
The Philadelphia branch of the Underground Rail Road was not fortunate in having very frequent arrivals from North Carolina. Of course such of her slave population as managed to become initiated in the mysteries of traveling North by the Underground Rail Road were sensible enough to find out nearer and safer routes than through Pennsylvania. Nevertheless the Vigilance Committee of Philadelphia occasionally had the pleasure of receiving some heroes who were worthy to be classed among the bravest of the brave, no matter who they may be who have claims to this distinction.
In proof of this bold assertion the two individuals whose names stand at the beginning of this chapter are presented. Abram was only twenty-one years of age, mulatto, five feet six inches high, intelligent and the picture of good health. “What was your master’s name?” inquired a member of the Committee. “Milton Hawkins,” answered Abram. “What business did Milton Hawkins follow?” again queried said member. “He was chief engineer on the Wilmington and Manchester Rail Road” (not a branch of the Underground Rail Road), responded Richard. “Describe him,” said the member. “He was a