The Underground Railroad - William Still (popular romance novels TXT) 📗

had better not shoot him; this was not a slave State. Inasmuch as Robert had owned his master, Uncle told John he must submit, so they put Robert on a horse, and started with him. After they were gone John said: "Mr. Gibbons, just say the word, and I will bring Robert back." Aunt said: "Go, John, go!" So John ran to Joseph Rakestraw's and got a gun (without any lock), and ran across the fields, with Tom after him, and headed the party. The men all ran except Haines, who kept Robert between himself and John, so that John should not shoot him. But John called out to Robert to drop off that horse, or he would shoot him. This Robert did, and John and Tom brought him back in triumph. My aunt said: "John, thee is a good fellow, thee has done well." Robert was taken to Jesse Gilbert's barn, and Dr. Dingee fixed his knee. As soon as he was able to travel, he took a "bee-line" for the North star.

My life with my uncle and aunt made me an abolitionist. I left them in the winter of 1824, and came to Salem, Ohio, where I kept a small station on the Underground Rail Road, until the United States government took my work away. I have helped over two hundred fugitives on their way to Canada.

Respectfully,

DANIEL BONSALL,

Salem, Columbiana county, Ohio."

One day, in the winter of 1822, Thomas Johnson, a colored man, living with Daniel Gibbons, went out early in the morning, to set traps for muskrats. While he was gone, a slave-holder came to the house and inquired for his slave. Daniel Gibbons said: "There is no slave here of that name." The man replied: "I know he is here. The man we're after, is a miserable, worthless, thieving scoundrel." "Oh! very well, then," said the good Quaker, "if that's the kind of man thee's after, then I know he is not here. We have a colored man here, but he is not that kind of a man." The slaveholder waited awhile, the man not making his appearance, then said: "Well, now, Mr. Gibbons, when you see that man next, tell him that we were here, and if he will come home, we will take good care of him, and be kind to him." "Very well," said Daniel, "I will tell him what thee says, but say to him at the same time, that he is a very great fool, if he does as thee requests." The colored man sought, having caught sight of the slaveholders, and knowing who they were, went off that night, under Daniel Gibbons' directions, and was never seen by his master again. Afterward, Daniel and his nephew, William Gibbons, went with this man to Adams county. With his master came the master of Mary, a girl with straight hair, and nearly white, who lived with Daniel Gibbons and his wife. Poor Mary was unfortunate. Her master caught her, and took her back with him into Slavery. She and a little girl, who was taken away about the year 1830, were the only ones ever taken back from the house of Daniel Gibbons.

Between the time of his marriage, when he began to keep a depot on the Underground Rail Road, and the year 1824, he passed more than one hundred slaves through to Canada, and between the latter time and his death, eight hundred more, making, in all nine hundred aided by him. He was ever willing to sacrifice his own personal comfort and convenience, in order to assist fugitives. In 1833, when on his way to the West, in a carriage, with his friend, Thomas Peart, also a most faithful friend of the colored man and interested in Underground Rail Road affairs, he found a fugitive slave, a woman, in Adams county, who was in immediate danger. He stopped his journey, and sent his horse and wagon back to his own home with the woman, that being the only safe way of getting her off. This was but a sample of his self-denial, in the cause of human freedom.

His want of ability to guide in person runaway slaves, or to travel with them, prevented him from taking active part in the wonderful adventures and hair-breadth escapes which his brain and tact rendered possible and successful. It is believed that no slave was ever recaptured that followed his directions. Sometimes the abolitionists were much annoyed by impostors, who pretended to be runaways, in order to discover their plans, and betray them to the slave-holders. Daniel Gibbons was possessed of much acuteness in detecting these people, but having detected them, he never treated them harshly or unkindly.

Almost from infancy, he was distinguished for the gravity of his deportment, and his utter heedlessness of small things. The writer has heard men preach the doctrine of the trifling value of the things of a present time, and of the tremendous importance of those of a never-ending eternity, but Daniel Gibbons is the only person she ever knew, who lived that doctrine. He believed in plainness of apparel as taught by Friends, not as a form or a rule of society, but as a principle; often quoting from some one who said that "the adornment of a vain and foolish world, would feed a starving one." He opposed extravagant fashions and all luxury of habit and life, as calculated to produce effeminacy and degrading sensuality, and as a bestowal of idolatrous attention upon that body which he would often say "was here but for a short time."

Looking only upon that as religion, which made men love each other and do good to each other in this world, he was little of a stickler for points of belief, and even when he did look into theological matters or denounce a man's religious opinions, it was generally because they were calculated to darken the mind and be entertained as a substitute for good works. Pursuing the even tenor of his way, he could as easily lead the flying fugitive slave by night out of the way of his powerful master, as one differently constituted could bestow his wealth upon the most popular charity in the land.

His faith was of the simplest kind—the Parable of the prodigal son, contains his creed. Discarding what are commonly called "plans of salvation," he believed in the light "which lighteth every man that cometh into the world," and that if people would follow this light, they would thus seek "the kingdom of Heaven and its righteousness and all other things needful would be added thereunto." He was a devoted member of the Society of Friends, in which he held the position of elder, during the last twenty-five years of his life. That peculiar doctrine of the Society, which repudiates systematic divinity and with it a paid ministry, he held in special reverence, finding confirmation of its truth in the general advocacy of Slavery, by the popular clergy of his day.

When he was quite advanced in years, and the Anti-slavery agitation grew warm, he was solicited to join an anti-slavery society, but on hearing the constitution read, and finding that it repudiated all use of physical force on the part of the oppressed in gaining their liberty, he said that he could not assent to that—that he had long been engaged in getting off slaves, and that he had always advised them to use force, although remonstrating against going to the extent of taking life, and that now he could not recede from that position, and he did not see how they could always be got off without the use of some force.

His faith in an overruling Providence was complete. He believed, even in the darkest days of freedom in our land, in the ultimate extinction of Slavery, and at times, although advanced in years, thought he would live to witness that glorious consummation. It is only in a man's own family and by his wife and children, that he is really known, and it is by those who best knew, and indeed, who only knew this good man, that his biographer is most anxious that he should be judged. As a parent, he was not excessively indulgent, as a husband, one more nearly a model is rarely found. But his kindness in domestic life, his love for his wife, his son and his grandchildren, and their reciprocal love and affection for him, no words can express.

It was in his father's household in his youth and in his own household in his mature years, that was fostered that wealth of love and affection, which, extending and widening, took in the whole race, and made him the friend of the oppressed everywhere, and especially of those whom it was a dangerous and unpopular task to befriend.

The tenderness and thoughtfulness of his disposition are well shown in the following incident: Upon one occasion, his son received a kick from a horse, which he was about to mount at the door. When he had recovered from the shock, and it was found that he was not seriously injured, the father still continued to look serious, and did not cease to shed tears. On being asked why he grieved, his answer was: "I was just thinking how it would have been with thee, had that stroke proved fatal." Such thoughts were at once the notes of his own preparation and a warning to others to be also ready.

A life consistent with his views, was a life of humility and universal benevolence, and such was his. It was a life, as it were in Heaven, while yet on earth, for it soared above and beyond the corrupt and slavish influences of earthly passions.

His interest in temperance never failed him. On his death-bed he would call persons to him, who needed such advice, and admonish them on the subject of using strong drinks, and his last expression of interest in any humanitarian movement, was an avowal of his belief in the great good to arise from a prohibitory liquor law.

To a friend, who entered his sick room, a few days before his death, he said: "Well, E., thee is preparing to go to the West." The friend replied: "Yes, and Daniel, I suppose thee is preparing to go to eternity." There was an affirmative reply, and E. inquired, "How does thee find it?" Daniel said: "I don't find much to do, I find that I have not got a hard master to deal with. Some few things which I have done, I find not entirely right." He quitted the earthly service of the Master, on the 17th day of the eighth month, 1852.

A young physician, son of one of his old friends, after attending his funeral, wrote to a friend, as follows: "To quote the words of Webster, 'We turned and paused, and joined our voices with the voices of the air, and bade him hail! and farewell!' Farewell, kind and brave old man! The voices of the oppressed whom thou hast redeemed, welcome thee to the Eternal City."