cry or make a noise I shake de basket an' de noise of de chickens kill de noise of de boy. An' I drove de fifteen miles to de ribber by daylight, and drove back of Covin'ton till de smoke of de ferry boat rise; den I prayed God to keep de ferryman from axin' me for my pass. For I's mighty feared he would, 'case I hadn't been here in so long. An' jus' afore sun up my man crawled out de back of de wagon. I told de boy to hol' de hosses till I fix somethin'. I whispered, 'Get back quick, for Gods sake,' an' he whispered, 'Let's go back, I knows dey'll cotch us.' 'Go back! Man, its death to go back; we'd be in jail in no time waitin' for de trader.' An' he crawl back an' I tuck 'im up agin, an' we trimble like a popple leaf. Den de smoke jus' rise on de ferry-beat, an' I drove on wid de white boy by my side. I prayed dat de Lord wouldn't let de ferryman ax me for my pass. If he did I's gwine to say, 'Dis white boy my pass;' but he didn't say a word, an' I praise God for answerin' my prayer." I told her she had nothing to fear from the five hundred dollars reward; she was in good hands; all she had to do was to go when they were ready to take them; but I would write a few lines for her to take to the first stopping place after leaving the city, advising to go by way of Carthaginia. "Write me from that town, and tell your daughter to go on to Canada with you without fail." I left her with a lighter heart, rejoicing with that rejoicing family, though yet trembling with fear. The time appointed for the two hours' discussion on the subject of slavery arrived. My pro-slavery friend was not disposed to open the conversation he desired in the morning. After waiting until one hour had elapsed, I asked if he was prepared to bring the Scripture arguments he had for my consideration at this hour. He replied that he had thought of but little else during the whole day; but on the whole doubted whether his reasons would stand the test, and declined saying any thing farther in defense of the position he had advanced. A few weeks later he died of cholera. I called on his widow, who said he died a happy soul, and often spoke of his confidence in me as an honest-hearted Christian, and she never heard him speak disparagingly of the colored people after the long conversation we had on that subject. I regretted the loss of an opportunity of seeing him after Mary French and family were safe in Canada. I wished to give him their history, as I felt sure it would have been "like a nail driven in a sure place." He had lived in the South, and the subject of slavery had never been placed before him in this way.