THE RUNAWAY SLAVE. attitude of defence, each with an axe in his hand. While we stood thus in the dismal dark, awaiting attack, all was silent: but no sooner had we resumed our march, than the wolves were upon us. My companion was overpowered, and the pack had already pinned him to the earth; while I, after laying about me with my axe, and striking down many a hungry foe, was at last glad to spring into the branches of a tree, and there gain a place of safety. Day broke, and a sad spectacle presented itself. The mangled remains of my comrade lay scattered about on the ground, several wolves lay dead, and the rest had disappeared. I hastened down from the tree, and fled on my way. "I knew the bloodhounds were already on my track, and pushed on towards the Ohio, seeking the least frequented spots -through swamps, amid the hiss of rattlesnakes and the smarting sting of mosquitoes, which bit me sometimes to agony, for my clothes were already becoming torn and tattered, and my feet sore and weary. At last the beautiful Ohio came in signt-a glorious river, though it waters a land of slavery. I hastened down the banks, through the dense forest, gained the shore, plunged into the stream, and, thanks to my strong arms, reached the opposite side in safety. As I knew my trail would be followed, I purposely, in order to throw the dogs off the scent, swam nearly a mile down the current before I landed, which I did under the shadow of a dense wood, not yet stripped by the winter's wind, and there spent the rest of that day. "Weeks have past since then; I have lost all note of time. One idea filled my head-freedom! It was a flight for life, and I pressed on. Hips and berries, acorns and wild apples, were my food-and they tasted sweet for liberty. My feet bled, my clothes were rent, my skin was torn by the thorns and briars; but I thought nothing of all that. By day I watched the sun, and kept him always behind me; by night the north star was my compass. I knew that Canada lay somewhere under there, and I made for it. I reached the shores of this lake a few days ago, but found no opportunity of crossing. I could faintly see the shores of Canada lying far off along the horizon, but how to get there I knew not. The "Hue and Cry" must be out against me, with my description, dress, and so forth: was I to be taken again? Horrible thought! I determined to venture near this town, where possibly I might secure the help of some free person of colour. The night was cold as I approached the outskirts of the town, and the stabledoor standing open as it were to invite me, I stole in under the POETRY. shadow of evening, and hid myself in the place where that noble gentleman discovered me. You now have my story." I shook the poor fellow by the hand, and assured him of all the help I could afford, to enable him to make good his escape. An American steamer was to sail for Detroit early next morning, and the scheme at once suggested itself to me of taking him with me as my servant. The landlord entered cordially into my project, and by peep of day his son accompanied us down to the jetty, where we embarked. There was scarcely yet light enough to enable the master of the vessel to discern the features of my servant, of which I was apprehensive. I requested him to go forward among the deck passengers, and I saw nothing of him till we reached Detroit. There we both stepped on board an English steamer bound for Malden, and we were safe! I cannot describe the joy with which the escaped slave leaped on shore when we reached the Canadian side. It was, as he afterwards said, the sweetest moment of his life. I left him with some negro friends, escaped slaves like himself, who received him cordially among them. I afterwards learnt that he became the minister of a negro congregation in the neighbourhood of Toronto, where he laboured happily and usefully. He was still there in 1847, and may be there still. Brown, the landlord, left Cleveland shortly after: the part which he had taken in helping the escape of the slave (which somehow became known) having begotten him a great deal of ill-will in the place, he left it in disgust, for Canada, whither he went to settle. Poetry. THE WORLD WITHOUT CARE. Is there a world where mourners lose A world where tears are ever dry, To break the bonds of kindred love? Are pregnant with the seeds of care. There is a world, but 'tis on high, Free from the power that spoiled our own; No curse impending shades its light; No clouds eclipse its radiant sun; For ever charms the ravished soul; Accept the grace through Jesus given; ANECDOTES AND SELECTIONS. Anecdotes and Selections. A SINGULAR FACT.-A pious woman, who used to say she should never want, for God wonld supply her need, was taken up in persecuting times, and carried before a justice of the peace, for 66 attending a conventicle," as they styled her offence, who, on seeing her rejoiced, and tauntingly said, "I have often wished to have you in my power, and now I shall send you to prison; and then how will you be fed ?" To which she replied, "If it is my heavenly Father's pleasure, I shall be fed from your table." And that was the case; for the justice's wife was present at the examination, and being greatly struck with the good woman's firmness, took care to send her victuals from her table; so that she was comfortably supplied all the time she was in confinement. And in this the justice's wife found her reward; for the Lord was pleased to work on her soul to her real conversion. A WISE REPROOF.-Mr. Meikle, late a surgeon in Carnwath, Scotland, being once at Edinburgh on business, and not comfortably lodged, he went out early on sabbath morning to a place of retirement in the neighbourhood of the town, to enjoy, undisturbed, some time for devotion. Sitting in an arbour, a young gentleman placed himself beside him; who, by his singing and foolish talk, discovered such a contempt of the sabbath, as the doctor could not allow to pass without reproof. "I am just thinking," said he, "of the fourth commandment; pray, sir, can you help me out with it?" "Indeed, I cannot," replied the gentleman. "O!" says Mr. Meikle, "I recollect it now: Remember the sabbath-day, to keep it holy." On this the gentleman left the doctor to his devotions. 66 A CURIOUS ANSWER.-I had a brother who was remarkably attached to the Established Church, but hearing a Methodist preacher in the town street, he thought he preached well, though he had not a gown on; and so he asked the clergyman what he thought of Methodist preaching. To which the reverend gentleman replied, Well, if there be more work to do than horses can do, I dont know but why asses may be employed!" Notwithstanding the obloquy thus cast on the Methodist preachers, my brother did continue to hear them, and became one of the society and a class leader, which office he held to his death. Although fifty years since, I still think it was a curious answer of the clergyman. J. H. MR. GRIMSHAW AND HIS Cow.-Mr. Grimshaw had a cow to which he was remarkably attached, and the thoughts of her often interrupted his most serious meditations; on this account he determined to dispose of her, and the farmer who came to view her, asked if she was sold for any fault; to which he replied, her fault will be no fault to you-" She follows me into the pulpit." ANECDOTES AND SELECTIONS. Dr. Watts, who wrote those beautiful "Divine Songs for Children," and the excellent hymns that are sung in all our places of worship, spent the chief part of his life at Newington, near London. A lady of quality being on a visit to Dr. Watts at Newington, the Doctor thus accosted her: "Madam, your ladyship is come to see me on a very remarkable day." "Why is this so remarkable ?" answered the countess. "This very day thirty years,” replied the Doctor, "I came hither to the house of my good friend Sir Thomas Abney, intending to spend but one single week under this friendly roof, and I have extended my visit to the length of exactly thirty years." Lady Abney, who was present, immediately said to the Doctor, Sir, what you term a long thirty years' visit, I consider as the shortest visit my family ever received." 66 HOW TO MAKE GOOD WIVES AND HUSBANDS.-Philip Henry used to observe, that in almost every quarrel there was a fault on both sides; and that generally they were most in fault that were most forward and clamorous in their complaints. One of these making her moan to him what a bad husband she had, who in this and the other instance was unkind; "and sir," said she, after a long complaint which he patiently heard, "what would you have me to do now ?" "Why, truly," said he, "I would have you go home and be a better wife to him, and then I hope you will find that he will be a better husband to you." ROOM FOR MY MASTER.-For some years before the late Rev. Mr. Hervey's death he visited a few of the principal persons in his neighbourhood. Being asked why he so seldom went to see the neighbouring gentlemen who yet showed him all possible esteem and respect, he answered, "I can hardly name a polite family where the conversation ever turns upon the things of God. I hear much worldly chit chat, but not a word of Christ; and I am determined not to visit where there is not room for my master as well as myself." LEARNING UNIMPROVED.-A young minister in America was lately boasting, among his relations, of having been educated at two colleges, Havard and Cambridge. "You remind me," said an aged preacher present, "of an instance I knew of a calf that sucked two cows. "What was the consequence?" said a third person. 'Why, sir,” replied the old gentleman, very gravely, "the consequence was, that he became a very great calf." 66 99 OLD JOHN BERRIDGE said to himself, "Oh heart! heart! what art thou? A mass of fooleries and absurdities! The vainest, foolishest, craftiest, wickedest thing in nature. And yet the Lord Jesus asks me for this heart, wooes me for it, and died to win it. O wonderful love! adorable condescension ! Take it, Lord, and let it be Now, wife and children, let's be gay, Six days I've toil'd, and now we meet Come ye who form my dear fireside, To-morrow's dawn brings blessed peace, For this, and every blessing given, Sweet the tranquility of heart, Thus shall the day, as God design'd, Our life is but a lengthened week, |