The Underground Railroad
am also familiar. This brother, Peter, I have only had the
pleasure of knowing for the brief space of one year and thirteen
days, although he is now past forty and I twenty-nine years of
age. Time will not allow me at present, or I should give you a
detailed account of how Peter became a slave, the forty long
years which intervened between the time he was kidnapped, when a
boy, being only six years of age, and his arrival in this city,
from Alabama, one year and fourteen days ago, when he was
re-united to his mother, five brothers and three sisters.
None but a father's heart can fathom the anguish and sorrows
felt by Peter during the many vicissitudes through which he has
passed. He looked back to his boyhood and saw himself snatched
from the tender embraces of his parents and home to be made a
slave for life.
During all his prime days he was in the faithful and constant
service of those who had no just claim upon him. In the
meanwhile he married a wife, who bore him eleven children, the
greater part of whom were emancipated from the troubles of life
by death, and three only survived. To them and his wife he was
devoted. Indeed I have never seen attachment between parents and
children, or husband and wife, more entire than was manifested
in the case of Peter.
Through these many years of servitude, Peter was sold and
resold, from one State to another, from one owner to another,
till he reached the forty-ninth year of his age, when, in a good
Providence, through the kindness of a friend and the sweat of
his brow, he regained the God-given blessings of liberty. He
eagerly sought his parents and home with all possible speed and
pains, when, to his heart's joy, he found his relatives.
Your present humble correspondent is the youngest of Peter's
brothers, and the first one of the family he saw after arriving
in this part of the country. I think you could not fail to be
interested in hearing how we became known to each other, and the
proof of our being brothers, etc., all of which I should be most
glad to relate, but time will not permit me to do so. The news
of this wonderful occurrence, of Peter finding his kindred, was
published quite extensively, shortly afterwards, in various
newspapers, in this quarter, which may account for the fact of
"Miller's" knowledge of the whereabouts of the "fugitives." Let
me say, it is my firm conviction that no one had any hand in
persuading "Miller" to go down from Cincinnati, or any other
place, after the family. As glad as I should be, and as much as
I would do for the liberation of Peter's family (now no longer
young), and his three "likely" children, in whom he prides
himself--how much, if you are a father, you can imagine; yet I
would not, and could not, think of persuading any friend to
peril his life, as would be the case, in an errand of that kind.
As regards the price fixed upon by you for the family, I must
say I do not think it possible to raise half that amount, though
Peter authorized me to say he would give you twenty-five hundred
for them. Probably he is not as well aware as I am, how
difficult it is to raise so large a sum of money from the
public. The applications for such objects are so frequent among
us in the North, and have always been so liberally met, that it
is no wonder if many get tired of being called upon. To be sure
some of us brothers own some property, but no great amount;
certainly not enough to enable us to bear so great a burden.
Mother owns a small farm in New Jersey, on which she has lived
for nearly forty years, from which she derives her support in
her old age. This small farm contains between forty and fifty
acres, and is the fruit of my father's toil. Two of my brothers
own small places also, but they have young families, and
consequently consume nearly as much as they make, with the
exception of adding some improvements to their places.
For my own part, I am employed as a clerk for a living, but my
salary is quite too limited to enable me to contribute any great
amount towards so large a sum as is demanded. Thus you see how
we are situated financially. We have plenty of friends, but
little money. Now, sir, allow me to make an appeal to your
humanity, although we are aware of your power to hold as
property those poor slaves, mother, daughter and two sons,--that
in no part of the United States could they escape and be secure
from your claim--nevertheless, would your understanding, your
heart, or your conscience reprove you, should you restore to
them, without price, that dear freedom, which is theirs by right
of nature, or would you not feel a satisfaction in so doing
which all the wealth of the world could not equal? At all
events, could you not so reduce the price as to place it in the
power of Peter's relatives and friends to raise the means for
their purchase? At first, I doubt not, but that you will think
my appeal very unreasonable; but, sir, serious reflection will
decide, whether the money demanded by you, after all, will be of
as great a benefit to you, as the satisfaction you would find in
bestowing so great a favor upon those whose entire happiness in
this life depends mainly upon your decision in the matter. If
the entire family cannot be purchased or freed, what can Vina
and her daughter be purchased for? Hoping, sir, to hear from
you, at your earliest convenience, I subscribe myself,
Your obedient servant, WM. STILL.
To B. McKiernon, Esq.
No reply to this letter was ever received from McKiernon. The cause of
his reticence can be as well conjectured by the reader as the writer.
Time will not admit of further details kindred to this narrative. The
life, struggles, and success of Peter and his family were ably brought
before the public in the "Kidnapped and the Ransomed," being the
personal recollections of Peter Still and his wife "Vina," after forty
years of slavery, by Mrs. Kate E.R. Pickard; with an introduction by
Rev. Samuel J. May, and an appendix by William H. Furness, D.D., in
1856. But, of course it was not prudent or safe, in the days of Slavery,
to publish such facts as are now brought to light; all such had to be
kept concealed in the breasts of the fugitives and their friends.
The following brief sketch, touching the separation of Peter and his
mother, will fitly illustrate this point, and at the same time explain
certain mysteries which have been hitherto kept hidden--
THE SEPARATION.
With regard to Peter's separation from his mother, when a little boy, in
few words, the facts were these: His parents, Levin and Sidney, were
both slaves on the Eastern Shore of Maryland. "I will die before I
submit to the yoke," was the declaration of his father to his young
master before either was twenty-one years of age. Consequently he was
allowed to buy himself at a very low figure, and he paid the required
sum and obtained his "free papers" when quite a young man--the young
wife and mother remaining in slavery under Saunders Griffin, as also her
children, the latter having increased to the number of four, two little
boys and two little girls. But to escape from chains, stripes, and
bondage, she took her four little children and fled to a place near
Greenwich, New Jersey. Not a great while, however, did she remain there
in a state of freedom before the slave-hunters pursued her, and one
night they pounced upon the whole family, and, without judge or jury,
hurried them all back to slavery. Whether this was kidnapping or not is
for the reader to decide for himself.
Safe back in the hands of her owner, to prevent her from escaping a
second time, every night for about three months she was cautiously "kept
locked up in the garret," until, as they supposed, she was fully "cured
of the desire to do so again." But she was incurable. She had been a
witness to the fact that her own father's brains had been blown out by
the discharge of a heavily loaded gun, deliberately aimed at his head by
his drunken master. She only needed half a chance to make still greater
struggles than ever for freedom.
She had great faith in God, and found much solace in singing some of the
good old Methodist tunes, by day and night. Her owner, observing this
apparently tranquil state of mind, indicating that she "seemed better
contented than ever," concluded that it was safe to let the garret door
remain unlocked at night. Not many weeks were allowed to pass before she
resolved to again make a bold strike for freedom. This time she had to
leave the two little boys, Levin and Peter, behind.
On the night she started she went to the bed where they were sleeping,
kissed them, and, consigning them into the hands of God, bade her mother
good-bye, and with her two little girls wended her way again to
Burlington County, New Jersey, but to a different neighborhood from that
where she had been seized. She changed her name to Charity, and
succeeded in again joining her husband, but, alas, with the
heart-breaking thought that she had been compelled to leave her two
little boys in slavery and one of the little girls on the road for the
father to go back after. Thus she began life in freedom anew.
Levin and Peter, eight and six years of age respectively, were now left
at the mercy of the enraged owner, and were soon hurried off to a
Southern market and sold, while their mother, for whom they were daily
weeping, was they knew not where. They were too young to know that they
were slaves, or to understand the nature of the afflicting separation.
Sixteen years before Peter's return, his older brother (Levin) died a
slave in the State of Alabama, and was buried by his surviving brother,
Peter.
No idea other than that they had been "kidnapped" from their mother ever
entered their minds; nor had they any knowledge of the State from whence
they supposed they had been taken, the last names of their mother and
father, or where they were born. On the other hand, the mother was aware
that the safety of herself and her rescued children depended on keeping
the whole transaction a strict family secret. During the forty years of
separation, except two or three Quaker friends, including the devoted
friend of the slave, Benjamin Lundy, it is doubtful whether any other
individuals were let into the secret of her slave life. And when the
account given of Peter's return, etc., was published in 1850, it led
some of the family to apprehend serious danger from the partial
revelation of the early condition of the mother, especially as it was
about the time that the Fugitive Slave law was passed.
Hence, the author of "The Kidnapped and the Ransomed" was compelled to
omit these dangerous facts, and had to confine herself strictly to the
"personal recollections of Peter Still" with regard to his being
"kidnapped." Likewise, in the sketch of Seth Concklin's eventful life,
written by Dr. W.H. Furness, for similar reasons he felt obliged to make
but bare reference to his wonderful agency in relation to Peter's
family, although he was fully aware of all the facts in the case.
UNDERGROUND RAIL ROAD LETTERS.
Here are introduced a few out of a very large number of interesting
letters, designed for other parts of the book as occasion may require.
All letters will be given precisely as they were written by their
respective authors, so that there may be no apparent room for charging