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cealing herself in the day time, otherwise she might have been betrayed, taken back or lodged in jail. Her only subsistence was Indian corn, on which she lived during her perilous journey. Mothers of England! imagine the suffering of this mother; put yourselves in her position: no one to whom to tell her sorrows and pour out her soul. But God, whose eye never sleeps, and whose ears are never dull of hearing, mysteriously guided the Fugitive unto freedom. He heard and answered her prayers. Trusting in the God of Israel, her trembling limbs bore her feeble body Northward; subject to rain, hail, snow, and impetuous storms; a Pilgrim, not to the Holy Land, to bow to the Popish Shrine, but to Freedom's Land, to worship God, and enjoy the boon of liberty, which she purchased at almost an inconceivable price. Ascending and descending mountains, making her way through dense forests, wading creeks, she eventually arrives in the Key-Stone State, (as we call it), Pennsylvania. Seeing in the distance a light, she approached it cautiously, necessity compelling her to seek human aid; starvation looking her in the face, tattered rags, wearied limbs, relaxed muscles, and sunk ambition, were Nature's admonitions—were so many voices warning her of the importance of temporal comforts. She saw before her a huge form. She came to a stand still, endeavouring to make it out. A voice came from it,—"Thee need not be
