A Woman's Life-Work-Labors and Experiences of Laura S. Haviland Part 22

"Then I ask you to define an abolitionist, for I call these men as radical abolitionists as we have in our country."

"Well, they are not."

"Please define them that I may know who they are."

"They are those who go down South and steal slaves away from their owners and report that they whip men and women and sell husbands and wives apart, and separate children from their mothers, and all that sort of thing, when it's all an arrant black-hearted lie."

"Mr. Lyons, you know all these flat denials are substantial truths. As you say you have lived in the South, you know in your own heart that men and women are cruelly whipped, and that families are separated, and these cases of cruelty are neither few nor far between. I will tell you what I have done for a woman who was a slave in Kentucky when she came to me for advice in Cincinnati, as she had a daughter to be sold, and her mistress was going to sell the whole family down the river. She was permitted to do her mistress's marketing in Cincinnati because she had confidence that she would not leave her family. I advised her to put her husband and children in that market-wagon and cover them with hay and bring them to a certain place I designated, and she would be aided in her flight to Canada. She took the plan I suggested, and her whole remaining family, nine in number, found themselves free in Canada. Was that the work of an abolitionist?"

"No, it isn't."

"Then I know not where to find one, for I see I too am out of the catalogue."

While this conversation was in progress he took three dollars from his desk and handed it to me; but as much as ever, I stopped to thank him, and told him the worst wish I had for him was that he would repent of his wicked position before the hour of death overtook him, and that he might find peace and pardon for these Satanic a.s.sertions he had made.

He sat quietly listening while I gave out my indignation without stint.

"Hand me back that three dollars," and it was as freely returned as I received it. He put it back in his drawer, took out five dollars and handed it to me, and hardly took time to nod "I thank you" for finishing my speech, which was not in the least interrupted, even with the increased subscription.

Poor man, I pitied him, for it was more than a year before I could get another opportunity to speak to him. His clerk left the bank as soon as he commenced his tirade. Although it is unpleasant to meet with such spirits, yet I never flee from them. If my cause is owned by the author of the _Higher Law_, none of these things move me. A few months after this we received a letter from Mintie Berry, the anxious wife, for whom we succeeded in raising enough to reunite the long separated couple, saying that their happy reunion was the result of favors from their many friends, to whom they returned grateful thanks, while they praised the Lord for the blessing.

I received a letter, July 4, 1859, from poor Calvin Fairbanks. Eight long years of the fifteen he had suffered in a Kentucky penitentiary.

How sad are these lines, containing some of his prison reflections! He says:

"Speak kindly, ye muses, my spirit inspire, Breathe softly and sweetly, sweep gently my lyre; There's gloom in my harp-string's low murmuring tone, Speak kindly, speak gently, to me here alone.

My spirit all broken--no soul-cheering ray To warm, and illumine my cold dreary way, No kind and beloved ones of days that are gone-- There's no one to cheer me, I'm alone, all alone.

From friends fondly cherished I'm severed away, From the hills where I laughed at the bright early day; And the morning of life like an arrow is gone, Like a shadow, a moment, and here I'm alone.

The guardians of childhood, like the bright early flower.

Have blossomed with fragrance, and are lost in an hour; And the cycle that brought them has eddied and gone, And left me behind them, alone, all alone.

How solemn and dreary, how somber with gloom, Are my lonely reflections, of the cold silent tomb, The abode of a father once fearless and bold, Of a sister once lovely, now silent and cold;

Of a mother lamenting her lost, lonely son, Awaiting awhile, but a day to be gone, And to mingle with spirits of blest early love, And to rest in the bosom of Jesus above.

The thought of these loved ones, now silent for aye, Or lingering and trembling, and pa.s.sing away.

Breathes sadness on nature, most cheerful and gay, And traces these numbers--we're pa.s.sing away.

But cease my complaining, we'll soon be at peace, We'll rest from our labors, forever at ease; There's rest for the weary and joy for our gloom, For G.o.d is our refuge, in heaven our home.

Yes, earth with her pleasures, and all that we love, We shall leave for the land of bright spirits above; No blasting nor mildew, nor soul-blighting care, No sorrow, no dying, no sin shall reign there."

The year 1861 opened full of excitement. Both North and South a.s.sumed threatening att.i.tudes. Raisin Inst.i.tute was affected by it; yet the work of the Lord prospered with us. Within three weeks fourteen of our students experienced the new spiritual life. But soon our ranks were broken. The seventy-five thousand men in arms called for at the first by President Lincoln were not sufficient to suppress the slave-holders'

rebellion. Seventeen of our students enlisted for the b.l.o.o.d.y conflicts of civil war.

Our princ.i.p.al, F. M. Olcott, had purchased my inst.i.tution, and I looked forward to a happy release of the $15,000 indebtedness that was resting over Raisin Inst.i.tute. The room-rent was not sufficient to meet the interest and other incidental expenses, and the tuition fees were required to pay the teachers. This indebtedness rested upon my shoulders. But for the salutary influence it exerted in molding the characters of our youth, I should have failed.

The declining health of our dear brother F. M. Olcott brought increasing darkness over our future prospects, and the memorable battle of Bull Run increased the shock that startled the liberty lovers of our nation at the firing upon Fort Sumter. The cloud that hung over our nation also overshadowed our beloved inst.i.tution. We closed this year with sad forebodings. Our beloved princ.i.p.al was fast hastening to his reward. He suggested a friend of his to fill his position the ensuing year, and died of consumption within six weeks of our vacation. He was a n.o.ble Christian man, and had endeared himself to all who enjoyed the privilege of his acquaintance. His loss was severely felt by his students, who enjoyed his faithful teaching, and especially by myself, as I had indulged the fond hope that he would become the efficient permanent princ.i.p.al.

The following year the inst.i.tute opened with as fair prospects as could be expected, in charge of Edward A. Haight. Until the third year of the war our school was continued in successful operation. But during the last term of 1863-4, when the war had taken seventeen of our n.o.ble young men into the field, and the condition of our soldiers, daily reported as suffering and dying in camp and hospital, called for tender nursing, I offered myself for that work.

Leaving an excellent young woman as preceptress in my stead, I gathered from eighteen hundred to two thousand garments for freedmen, and hospital supplies for soldiers, and with papers from Austin Blair, governor of our State, from F. C. Beaman, member of Congress, and from others, I left my sweet home and the loved ones who still cl.u.s.tered around it. On my way to the depot I was met by Rev. P. Powell, who inquired how much money I had. "Fifteen dollars," was my answer.

"Why, Mother Haviland," he exclaimed, "you can never go with only that.

Stop a day or two, and I'll get up eighty or a hundred dollars for you."

"But I have arranged for all my supplies to go on today. There are three or four boxes waiting for me at Hillsdale, and I wrote them I would be there to-night. I have not asked for money, but for supplies.

I have a free pa.s.s to Chicago and return, and if I can get a pa.s.s free to Cairo and return, I think I can get along, and perhaps lives may be in peril in the twenty-four hours I might be waiting here for money."

"Will you telegraph me if you do not succeed in getting the pa.s.ses in Chicago?"

"I will," I said, and went forward.

As I was taking leave of my son Joseph, and was about to enter the car, he held me by the hand, and said: "One promise I want you to make me, and make it so strong that your conscience will come in for a share; and that is, that you will stop, once in a while, to think whether you are tired or not. You are going among the suffering and dying, and I know you so well that you will go and go and do and do, until you will drop before you will think of yourself. If you will make me this promise I will feel a great deal better about you."

"Joseph," I said, "I will promise to do this," and we parted.

On visiting the sanitary rooms in Chicago I met Mrs. Hague, Mrs.

Livermore, and others, who thought it very doubtful whether I could secure a fare free to Cairo, as President Arthur had shut down the gate on free, or even half-fare, pa.s.ses. He had told them that a.s.sociations might pay their agents enough to pay their fare. But I was under the auspices of no a.s.sociation. I was only a self-const.i.tuted agent, and I must try. Leaning on the arm of my guide, I went to President Arthur, and introduced myself by handing him my papers. On reading them he asked, rather sharply, "What do you want?"

"I am hoping to obtain a free pa.s.s to Cairo and return," I replied, "and free transportation for the supplies referred to in those papers."

"Are you alone, madam?"

"I am alone."

"Well, I think this is a heavy responsibility for a lady of your age.

Are you aware of the responsibility you a.s.sume in this?" holding the paper up.

"I think I am aware of the responsibility. I do not know but the experience of age, however, may somewhat make up for the strength of youth."

"Well, I guess it will."

Settling himself back in his easy arm chair, he said again, "How long a time do you want it for?"

"I can not answer intelligently," I said, "I may wish to return for more supplies, within two or three months, and I can not say how long it will take to disburse these supplies judiciously."

"Very well," and he took my papers to his chief clerk, and soon brought me back pa.s.ses, saying, "There are your pa.s.ses, and they'll bring you back any time this year." He gave me also an order for free transportation. I left his office praising G.o.d for another victory.

I was met in the door of the sanitary rooms with "Did you succeed in getting a half-fare pa.s.s?"

"A free pa.s.s to Cairo and return," I said, "and free transportation for all my supplies from President Arthur."

The clerk clapped his hands, cheering: "You are a favored one; not one of us would have got that favor."

Not till then did they know of my leaving home with only fifteen dollars; yet it was sufficient.

A few hours more landed me in Cairo, where the wharf was lined with cannon, and piles of sh.e.l.ls and b.a.l.l.s. My first work was to find a soldiers' home, and visit hospitals. Oh, what scenes at once were presented to my view! Here were the groans of the wounded and dying soldiers. Some were praying--a few were swearing; and yet even these would patiently listen to reading the promises of Jesus and his loving invitations, and become calm.