"Did I do right," I asked, "in rescuing that Hamilton family from the grasp of those Tennessee slave-holders?" "If I had taken a family under my wing, of course, I should calculate to protect them." "That is not the answer I call for. I want from you a direct reply; did I do _right_, or wrong, in that case? You remember all the circumstances." "Oh, yes, I remember it well, and as I tell you, if I had undertaken to protect a family I should do it." "I shall accept no prevarication whatever," said I; "I demand a square answer, and it is your duty to give it; did I do right or wrong in that case?" He drew out his pocket-book, and emptied it in my lap. "There is hardly a dollar, and if I had more you should have it; of course you are right, and every sane man or woman knows it; but my political relations are such I wish you wouldn't say anything about it." It is no new thing for politics to stand in the way of humanity. A few weeks later the glad mother returned and redeemed her daughter. I saw them together at Levi Coffin's, in Cincinnati, happy in their freedom. Another woman was directed to me by William King, who, with Rev. C. C. Foote, had founded a colony a few miles from Chatham, Ontario, for fugitives from slavery. She managed to escape with seven children, and her husband's master offered him to her for six hundred dollars, two hundred dollars less than the market price. I went with her a few days, and received from the friends one hundred and thirteen dollars. Then the sight of one whom she recognized hastened her back to Canada, a proceeding which probably saved us the fate of the Oberlin or Wellington rescuers, who spent a few weeks in jail. A year after we heard the husband and father was with his family in Canada. A few weeks elapsed when another woman from Cincinnati learned that her husband could be bought for a low figure because of a rheumatic difficulty. She had been freed three years previously, and by industry had accumulated three hundred dollars. She came well recommended by Levi Coffin and others. While making calls in her behalf in a store owned by a Democratic friend, upon presenting her claim to the proprietor and a few bystanders, a gentleman stepped into the door with, "I see you come to Democrats for aid." "She knows her best friends," said our merchant. "I slight no one," I answered. "I call upon my acquaintances regardless of politics. "I will give you _five_ dollars for every _one_ you'll get from an abolitionist in this place," said the sparkling, black-eyed stranger. At this quite a shout arose in the store. "That speaks well for your abolition friends," was the ironical retort of another bystander. "Who is that gentleman?" I inquired. "Mr. Lyons, the banker on Main Street," was the reply. "All right," I said, "I shall remember him." I stepped into Edwin Comstock's and mentioned this proposition.