Boston, I believe—with a halter round his neck as a malefactor. One sees in his beautiful countenance and clear, eagle-eye, that resolute spirit which makes the martyr. Speaking with him, I told him candidly that I thought the extravagance in the proceedings of the Abolitionists, their want of moderation, and the violent tone of their attacks could not benefit, but rather must damage their cause. He replied, with good temper, “We must demand the whole loaf if we would hope to get one half of it!”
He expressed himself mildly regarding the Southern slave-holders, said that he valued many of them personally, but that he hated slavery, and would continue to combat with it as with the greatest enemy of America. And a man who had endured the maltreatment of a mob—who had borne the halter, and disgrace, and has still stood firmly as before, combating fearlessly as before; the resolution and character of such a man deserve esteem. This gentleman brought to us two lately-escaped slaves, William and Ellen Kraft. She was almost white; her countenance which was rather sallow, had the features of the white, and though not handsome, a very intelligent expression. They had escaped by means of her being dressed as a man; he acting as her servant. In order to avoid the necessity of signing her name in the travellers books, for she could not write, she carried her right arm in a sling, under the plea of having injured it. Thus they had succeeded in travelling by railway from the south to the free States of the north. They appeared to be sincerely happy.
“Why did you escape from your masters?” I asked,—“did they treat you with severity?”
“No,” replied she; “they always treated me well; but I fled from them because they would not give me my rights as a human being. I could never learn anything, neither to read nor to write.”
