At last, when the tramp of the Federal soldiers was heard in the streets of the little town whence Conway had been driven in 1854, he hastened to the spot to assist the slaves of his father's household to escape to the free North-West. By dint of great exertions he found the fugitives. The old woman who had nursed him sprang forward, and folded him in her arms as if he were still a child. "Far into the night we sat together; and they listened with glistening eyes as I told them of the region to which I meant to take them, where never should they
'Feel oppression,
Never hear of war again.'
At the Baltimore Railway Station all was nearly lost. A threatening mob beset the station, and the ticket-agent peremptorily intimated, 'I cannot let these negroes go on this road at an}' price.' I simply presented my military order to this very disagreeable and handsome agent, and he began to read it. He had read but two or three words of it, when he looked up with astonishment, and said,—
"'The papers say these are your father's slaves.'—'They are,' I replied. 'Why, sir, you could sell them in Baltimore for fifty thousand dollars!'—'Possibly,' I replied. Whereupon (moved, probably, by supposing that I was making a greater sacrifice than was the case) the young man's face was unsheathed: 'By God! you shall have every car on this road if you want it, and take the negroes where you please! ' Then, having sold me the tickets, he gave his ticket-selling to a subordinate, and went out to secure us a car to ourselves; and from that moment, though the
