From Dixie to Canada: Romances and Realities of the Underground RailroadJohnson, H. U. (Homer Uri)
History
From Dixie to Canada: Romances and Realities of the Underground Railroad
Johnson, H. U. (Homer Uri)
Fugitive slaves -- United States; Underground Railroad
The promptings of a desire to leave to posterity some realistic record
of this, one of the most wonderful and thrilling features of our
national history, no parallel to which is afforded in the annals of
time, must be the excuse for these pages. During the eighties, the
writer, who had lived amid its excitements for years, and was more or
less familiar with the writings of Coffin, Pettit, the Clarkes and
others, undertook a systematic research into the matter, the result of
which was the accumulation of a large fund of incident and information
pertaining to the Road, much of which was published in the _Home
Magazine_ between the years 1883 and 1889, inclusive. Those articles, in
part, carefully revised, are now placed before the reader in this more
permanent form, with the hope that they may receive the generous
approval of an appreciative public.
THE AUTHOR.
ORWELL, OHIO, MAY 20, 1894.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
INTRODUCTION 9
CHAPTER I.
JO NORTON 19
LAVINIA 28
A RUSE 36
THE ORIGINAL “JERRY” 48
A COOL WOMAN 52
CHAPTER II.
JACK WATSON 54
CHAPTER III.
UNCLE JAKE 85
CHAPTER IV.
GEORGE GREEN, OR CONSTANCY REWARDED 98
CHAPTER V.
HOW SOL. JONES WAS LEFT 124
CHAPTER VI.
EDWARD HOWARD 132
CHAPTER VII.
PLUCKY CHARLEY 152
CHAPTER VIII.
STATIE LINES 164
CHAPTER IX.
GEORGE GRAY 173
[Illustration:
JIM JONES IN THE BLACKSMITH SHOP.
]
INTRODUCTION.
The quiet of a midsummer night had settled down over the city of
Washington, when, in August, 1839, a dusky form came, with stealthy
tread, from among some buildings not far away, and cautiously approached
the eastern entrance to the Capitol. Laying his hand upon the cold steps
in the shadow of the great building, Jim Jones, a colored boy of about
seventeen, attentively listened as if in expectation of some
preconcerted signal.
He had waited but a moment thus, when the hand of a patrol was laid
heavily upon his shoulder and the rough query, “What does this mean, you
black rascal?” fell upon his ear.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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