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462 DOUGLASS' MONTHLY. May, 1861. [[line]] [[3 columns]] [[column 1]] men live with their lives in their hands.--Their conduct may not be very prudent or advisable, but they claim the right to take care of themselves, and say they are quite able to do so. The scene at the colored church and at the railroad depot on Sunday evening, when this passage of Israel from the house of bondage was rehearsed, as we have above indicated, was a very striking and peculiar one. There were present all the elements of tragedy and pathos. The crowd at the depot was very large, numbering several thousand people, white and black. The fugitives arrived at the railroad depot in little companies, or families, bringing with them such provisions, clothing, cooking utensils, etc., as they had been able to gather together, either by the aid of others or by their own exertions. Some of them were old grey-haired men and women, with forms bent and stunted by a long life of unrewarded labor. All their life had they worked beneath the lash of slavery--now they were dragging their wearied and worn out bodies to a foreign land, that they might once taste the sweets of liberty, and die. Young men and women, with bright hope and strong endurance written on their countenances; little children who had not yet felt the bitterness of the yoke under which they had been born; the pure African, and the white Octoroon, with straight hair and thin lips; all were there--all exiled from the land of their birth, and driven into a foreign, unknown country, for no fault of their own, and with but scanty prospect of anything but starvation before them. But anything was better than slavery--destitution, suffering, cold, hunger, death itself was more welcome than the chains from which they had escaped, and to which they were in so much danger of being dragged back. As the moment of departure drew near, the partings between those who were departing and those who remained, commenced.--The air resounded with prayers, with sobs, with groans of anguish, with shouts of joy, mingling together in strange harmony.--Hymns of supplication went up toward heaven, and curses, not loud but deep, followed them. The vastness of the crowd, the deep and conflicting emotions which pervaded it, the peculiarity of the scene, and the knowledge of the misery and sin of which it was a consequence, made it a sight to look upon with sorrow, grief, shame and remorse. A MOTHER ROBBED OF HER SON--A SAD STORY. Twenty years ago--says the Cincinnati Gazette--an old negress named Polly West, succeeded in paying her master, a Mr. Griffin, of Campbell Co., Ky., the last dollar required to secure her right and title to her own body.--She was then a free woman. For over sixty years she had toiled in slavery, ever sustained by the hope that she would, before her death, own herself. She then came to Cincinnati, where she was well received. But it was only to continue her toiling, for she had left behind her her son, her idol, in the chains of slavery. Through the assistance of friends, she soon raised $400, with which she went to Alexandria, Ky., to purchase the freedom of her son, Charles West, who was then between forty and fifty years of age. He was then the property of Mr. Wm. Satchell of that place. Mr. S. agreed to sell the 'boy' to his mother for $600, of which $400 was to be paid down, and the balance in small payments extending over a number of years. Charles accompanied his mother to Cincinnati and secured employment. The first money they saved was paid over to the master, and so on till they had reduced the sum to a little over $100. One day Charles went out to his work as usual, but never returned. He was seized and handcuffed by two deputy U.S. Marshals, taken before a Commissioner, and in less than an hour, remanded to slavery as the escaped property of Mr. Satchell. He was sold and sent South. The mother was not told the truth for a day or two, and then what could she do for her kidnapped son? Broken-hearted, she returned to her menial employment of picking and washing rags. This was about seven years ago. On Saturday last she complained to some [[/column 1]] [[column 2]] friends that she was unwell, and calling on one of them at No. 92 West Front St., between Vine and Race, asked for some tea. She, old and decrepit, wanted nothing more. At a late hour she retired to her couch, where she was left by her friends. Next morning she was found dead. There were rumors of poison--money being the object. Following the injunctions of the law, the Coroner and a jury came and made an investigation. The above facts came to light. It was also shown that the old woman--then between 80 and 90 years of age--had some $400 her due, which was to be paid over by an agent in a few days. Who this agent is no one can tell, and it remains with the Court to find out. The verdict of the jury was, 'Death from old age and exposure.' What has become of the son of whom she was most cruelly robbed, no one knows; but it is probable that if alive, he is on some cotton plantation in the far South. A LOCKPORT MAN KIDNAPPED. On Thursday, April 4th, says the Cincinnati Gazette, a man who gave his name as Johnson, crossed the river from Cincinnati, having a negro servant with him, whom he represented as his property. As soon as the twain reached the City Clerk's office, on York street, some bystanders commenced to question the negro, when he denied being a slave; that his name was Chancellor Livingston, and that Johnson had hired him in Lockport, N.Y., to go to his farm near Lexington, as a laborer, at the same time representing Kentucky as a free State. As soon as the bystanders heard this state of the case, they suspected that Johnson was trying to kidnap the negro, and they determined to arrest him forthwith, but it was soon discovered that he had disappeared, and also that he had left the city. The negro was lodged in jail. Livingston remained in prison nearly two weeks, and was at last liberated upon affidavits coming from Lockport, proving his story to be correct. He had a narrow escape, and has found out from experience that Kentucky is anything but a free State. [[line]] "WHO KILLED THE AMERICAN EAGLE?" [[short line]] BY JULIA A. WILBUR. [[short line]] The glorious bird of our country lies low! But few signs of life now remain; That wing, wild and free, now lies bleeding and still; Oh! will it soar never again? The eye that so swiftly defiance once flashed, And threw back the sun's brightest beam; The eye with that fearless and threatening glance, Has scarcely a last dying gleam! His scream, wild and fierce, which so startled us once, And scared all the birds of the heaven, Is now hushed and still, and from that bloody beak The terrible power has been riven! His once brilliant plumage is now soiled and torn, It lies scattered low on the ground, While Pelicans vile, and cowardly Crows Rear their heads and look hatefully round. But can it be true that our glorious Bird Is to death quite as near as he seems? Will he not even yet in his majesty rise, And startle the world with his screams? Will he not assert his great power again Over all other tribes of the air? Ah! we fear that his strength is entirely gone, So few signs of life we see there. Quite little the honor he has here at home, Abroad his respect is quite small; Alas! he lies low, and no country so poor As to offer him Homage at all! [[/column 2]] [[column 3]] And now that his glory's departed and gone, Who, the question is, gave the death blow? It is owing, 'tis said, to a compact 'Twixt the North and the South long ago. The Eagle between these two parties Was raffled for every four years; The South won many times in succession-- Had it all their own way, it appears. They had trained him to hunt the poor bondman, The slave-trader, too to protect. And to pounce on the innocent stranger-- Yes, these things we had come to expect. To guard the vile system of slavery, To extend and to cherish it, too, To steal, and protect fifllibusters, Was the work which the Bird had to do. These things grieved the North very sorely, They were roused up as never before, They resolved, could they once win the Eagle, He should never serve slavery more. Law and order should both be protected, The Bird better manners should learn, The good and the right be respected, And peace to our country return. At last, when the North won the Eagle, All hearts true and noble beat high; The Bird now would watch over Freedom. The system of slavery would die! But the South, full of treachery ever, Gave the Bird they no longer could keep, Such a good dose of Secession powders, That he seems to be in his last sleep. The North hoped the Bird would recover, And show some of the vigor of youth; But the Bird's constitution is broken. There is nothing to build on in truth. The organs of life and of motion No longer their functions perform; He is cold--nearly gone the pulsations Of a heart once so noble and warm! He must die ! there is no hope remaining, And the jury of inquest will say, "Died of poison by one James Buchanan, Who was willing the South to obey." The South have thrown off their disguises, Their motive it seems is quite plain; They killed the proud Bird of our country, For fear 'twould serve Freedom again. Shame on such perfidious wretches! They've ever been false to their trust. And Liberty's glorious symbol Is smitten and low in the dust! Not long can such wickedness prosper, Judgment may for a time spare the rod, But posterity's curses will follow These traitors to man and to God. EAST AVON, April 16, 1861. [[line]] UNGRATEFUL PROCEEDINGS. [[short line]] PENSACOLA, Fla., April 7, 1861. I inclose an extract from the New York Express, cut from a Mobile paper, doubting not that it is a specimen of many similar assertions by the same and kindred journals--[The extract affirms that the most profound quiet exists among the slaves all over the South, greatly to the chagrin of the Abolitionists.] Having passed the last four months in this immediate vicinity, with most favorable opportunities for observing the great political overturn of the past Winter, and every phase and form of the excitement it has created, I have no hesitation in saying that in this section, at least, 'profound quietness' does not prevail among the negroes. On the contrary, they display the most intense anxiety on the [[/column 3]]
