Chapter: After we returned to New York, I took the earliest opportunity to go and
see Ellen. I asked to have her called down stairs; for I supposed Mrs.
Hobbs's southern brother might still be there, and I was desirous to avoid
seeing him, if possible. But Mrs. Hobbs came to the kitchen, and insisted
on my going up stairs. "My brother wants to see you," said she, "and he is
sorry you seem to shun him. He knows you are living in New York. He told me
to say to you that he owes thanks to good old aunt Martha for too many
little acts of kindness for him to be base enough to betray her
grandchild."

This Mr. Thorne had become poor and reckless long before he left the south,
and such persons had much rather go to one of the faithful old slaves to
borrow a dollar, or get a good dinner, than to go to one whom they consider
an equal. It was such acts of kindness as these for which he professed to
feel grateful to my grandmother. I wished he had kept at a distance, but as
he was here, and knew where I was, I concluded there was nothing to be
gained by trying to avoid him; on the contrary, it might be the means of
exciting his ill will. I followed his sister up stairs. He met me in a very
friendly manner, congratulated me on my escape from slavery, and hoped I
had a good place, where I felt happy.

I continued to visit Ellen as often as I could. She, good thoughtful child,
never forgot my hazardous situation, but always kept a vigilant lookout for
my safety. She never made any complaint about her own inconveniences and
troubles; but a mother's observing eye easily perceived that she was not
happy. On the occasion of one of my visits I found her unusually serious.
When I asked her what was the matter, she said nothing was the matter. But
I insisted upon knowing what made her look so very grave. Finally, I
ascertained that she felt troubled about the dissipation that was
continually going on in the house. She was sent to the store very often for
rum and brandy, and she felt ashamed to ask for it so often; and Mr. Hobbs
and Mr. Thorne drank a great deal, and their hands trembled so that they
had to call her to pour out the liquor for them. "But for all that," said
she, "Mr. Hobbs is good to me, and I can't help liking him. I feel sorry
for him." I tried to comfort her, by telling her that I had laid up a
hundred dollars, and that before long I hoped to be able to give her and
Benjamin a home, and send them to school. She was always desirous not to
add to my troubles more than she could help, and I did not discover till
years afterwards that Mr. Thorne's intemperance was not the only annoyance
she suffered from him. Though he professed too much gratitude to my
grandmother to injure any of her descendants, he had poured vile language
into the ears of her innocent great-grandchild.

I usually went to Brooklyn to spend Sunday afternoon. One Sunday, I found
Ellen anxiously waiting for me near the house. "O, mother," said she, "I've
been waiting for you this long time. I'm afraid Mr. Thorne has written to
tell Dr. Flint where you are. Make haste and come in. Mrs. Hobbs will tell
you all about it!"

The story was soon told. While the children were playing in the grape-vine
arbor, the day before, Mr. Thorne came out with a letter in his hand, which
he tore up and scattered about. Ellen was sweeping the yard at the time,
and having her mind full of suspicions of him, she picked up the pieces and
carried them to the children, saying, "I wonder who Mr. Thorne has been
writing to."

"I'm sure I don't know, and don't care," replied the oldest of the
children; "and I don't see how it concerns you."

"But it does concern me," replied Ellen; "for I'm afraid he's been
writing to the south about my mother."

They laughed at her, and called her a silly thing, but good-naturedly put
the fragments of writing together, in order to read them to her. They were
no sooner arranged, than the little girl exclaimed, "I declare, Ellen, I
believe you are right."

The contents of Mr. Thorne's letter, as nearly as I can remember, were as
follows: "I have seen your slave, Linda, and conversed with her. She can be
taken very easily, if you manage prudently. There are enough of us here to
swear to her identity as your property. I am a patriot, a lover of my
country, and I do this as an act of justice to the laws." He concluded by
informing the doctor of the street and number where I lived. The children
carried the pieces to Mrs. Hobbs, who immediately went to her brother's
room for an explanation. He was not to be found. The servants said they saw
him go out with a letter in his hand, and they supposed he had gone to the
post office. The natural inference was, that he had sent to Dr. Flint a
copy of those fragments. When he returned, his sister accused him of it,
and he did not deny the charge. He went immediately to his room, and the
next morning he was missing. He had gone over to New York, before any of
the family were astir.

It was evident that I had no time to lose; and I hastened back to the city
with a heavy heart. Again I was to be torn from a comfortable home, and all
my plans for the welfare of my children were to be frustrated by that demon
Slavery! I now regretted that I never told Mrs. Bruce my story. I had not
concealed it merely on account of being a fugitive; that would have made
her anxious, but it would have excited sympathy in her kind heart. I valued
her good opinion, and I was afraid of losing it, if I told her all the
particulars of my sad story. But now I felt that it was necessary for her
to know how I was situated. I had once left her abruptly, without
explaining the reason, and it would not be proper to do it again. I went
home resolved to tell her in the morning. But the sadness of my face
attracted her attention, and, in answer to her kind inquiries, I poured out
my full heart to her, before bed time. She listened with true womanly
sympathy, and told me she would do all she could to protect me. How my
heart blessed her!

Early the next morning, Judge Vanderpool and Lawyer Hopper were consulted.
They said I had better leave the city at once, as the risk would be great
if the case came to trial. Mrs. Bruce took me in a carriage to the house of
one of her friends, where she assured me I should be safe until my brother
could arrive, which would be in a few days. In the interval my thoughts
were much occupied with Ellen. She was mine by birth, and she was also mine
by Southern law, since my grandmother held the bill of sale that made her
so. I did not feel that she was safe unless I had her with me. Mrs. Hobbs,
who felt badly about her brother's treachery, yielded to my entreaties, on
condition that she should return in ten days. I avoided making any promise.
She came to me clad in very thin garments, all outgrown, and with a school
satchel on her arm, containing a few articles. It was late in October, and
I knew the child must suffer; and not daring to go out in the streets to
purchase any thing, I took off my own flannel skirt and converted it into
one for her. Kind Mrs. Bruce came to bid me good by, and when she saw that
I had taken off my clothing for my child, the tears came to her eyes. She
said, "Wait for me, Linda," and went out. She soon returned with a nice
warm shawl and hood for Ellen. Truly, of such souls as hers are the kingdom
of heaven.

My brother reached New York on Wednesday. Lawyer Hopper advised us to go to
Boston by the Stonington route, as there was less Southern travel in that
direction. Mrs. Bruce directed her servants to tell all inquirers that I
formerly lived there, but had gone from the city. We reached the steamboat
Rhode Island in safety. That boat employed colored hands, but I knew that
colored passengers were not admitted to the cabin. I was very desirous for
the seclusion of the cabin, not only on account of exposure to the night
air, but also to avoid observation. Lawyer Hopper was waiting on board for
us. He spoke to the stewardess, and asked, as a particular favor, that she
would treat us well. He said to me, "Go and speak to the captain yourself
by and by. Take your little girl with you, and I am sure that he will not
let her sleep on deck." With these kind words and a shake of the hand he
departed.

The boat was soon on her way, bearing me rapidly from the friendly home
where I had hoped to find security and rest. My brother had left me to
purchase the tickets, thinking that I might have better success than he
would. When the stewardess came to me, I paid what she asked, and she gave
me three tickets with clipped corners. In the most unsophisticated manner I
said, "You have made a mistake; I asked you for cabin tickets. I cannot
possibly consent to sleep on deck with my little daughter." She assured me
there was no mistake. She said on some of the routes colored people were
allowed to sleep in the cabin, but not on this route, which was much
travelled by the wealthy. I asked her to show me to the captain's office,
and she said she would after tea. When the time came, I took Ellen by the
hand and went to the captain, politely requesting him to change our
tickets, as we should be very uncomfortable on deck. He said it was
contrary to their custom, but he would see that we had berths below; he
would also try to obtain comfortable seats for us in the cars; of that he
was not certain, but he would speak to the conductor about it, when the
boat arrived. I thanked him, and returned to the ladies' cabin. He came
afterwards and told me that the conductor of the cars was on board, that he
had spoken to him, and he had promised to take care of us. I was very much
surprised at receiving so much kindness. I don't know whether the pleasing
face of my little girl had won his heart, or whether the stewardess
inferred from Lawyer Hopper's manner that I was a fugitive, and had pleaded
with him in my behalf.

When the boat arrived at Stonington, the conductor kept his promise, and
showed us to seats in the first car, nearest the engine. He asked us to
take seats next the door, but as he passed through, we ventured to move on
toward the other end of the car. No incivility was offered us, and we
reached Boston in safety.

The day after my arrival was one of the happiest of my life. I felt as if I
was beyond the reach of the bloodhounds; and, for the first time during
many years, I had both my children together with me. They greatly enjoyed
their reunion, and laughed and chatted merrily. I watched them with a
swelling heart. Their every motion delighted me.

I could not feel safe in New York, and I accepted the offer of a friend,
that we should share expenses and keep house together. I represented to
Mrs. Hobbs that Ellen must have some schooling, and must remain with me for
that purpose. She felt ashamed of being unable to read or spell at her age,
so instead of sending her to school with Benny, I instructed her myself
till she was fitted to enter an intermediate school. The winter passed
pleasantly, while I was busy with my needle, and my children with their
books.

 Ellen finds out that Mrs. Hobbs's brother, Mr. Thorpe, has told Dr. Flint where Linda is living. Linda finally tells Mrs. Bruce that she is a fugitive slave, and that Dr. Flint will be coming after her. Mrs. Bruce contacts her lawyer, who arranges to take Linda, Ellen, and William to Boston. Ellen is only allowed to go because Mrs. Hobbs feels a little guilty that her brother is such a meanie. In Boston, Linda and Ellen reunite with Benny. Linda stays in Boston all winter, teaching Ellen to read and write. They have a few months of domestic happiness.

