From her earliest housekeeping she had had “help” from the colony of Cincinnati colored people. In the year 1839 a certain colored girl came to work for her who had been a slave, but who had been brought by her mistress into Ohio and left there, and thus by the laws of Ohio made free. But by this time a new national requirement was under discussion called the Fugitive Slave Law; by this law the people of such a state as Ohio were to be commanded to give back to their masters all colored persons found in their territory, unless they had been set free by special papers stating the fact and showing that payment had been made to the former owners. By this law the master of the girl that worked for Mrs. Stowe could come over the line and if he could find his former slave could reclaim her. And all people were to be required to aid the owners to gain possession of their runaway slaves. People who did not believe in the justice of such a law as this thought it right to evade it; and among these was the Beecher family. So when it was known that the former master of the girl was in the city looking for his property, Professor Stowe and Henry planned to conceal the girl from him. They put the fugitive in a carriage and together drove out into the country in the darkest hours of a dismal, stormy night. Following along Mill Creek to the first “station” in the underground railway, they put her in the care of the sturdy Quaker farmer, Mr. John Vanzandt, who protected her until she could be taken further on her way to Canada. This is the law that is referred to in Chapter IX of “Uncle Tom’s Cabin” by _Mrs. Bird_, that timid, blushing little woman who was about four feet in height, had mild blue eyes and a peach-blow complexion, and the gentlest, sweetest voice in the world; as for her courage, a moderate-sized cock turkey had been known to put her to rout at the very first gobble, and a stout house dog of moderate capacity would bring her into subjection merely by a show of his teeth. And yet when she heard of this new law she stood up before her husband (who was a Senator and had voted for it!) and cried out, “Now, John, I want to know if you think such a law as that is right and Christian?” Her husband, the Senator, tried to argue her out of her prejudice, but did not succeed; and then, as every one remembers, this same sound-hearted Senator was the first to let his heart have sway when one of the poor runaways came distressed and hunted to the door asking for rescue.