The Kidnapped And The Ransomed Part 26

"Yes--that is so--I like to keep all close. Peter must pay me promptly."

When the neighbor's chat was ended, and they heard his receding footsteps on the sidewalk, they finished counting the money. How beautiful it looked to Peter! that little heap of coin, as he shoved it towards the Jew, and felt that now his fate hung entirely on the will of the little man before him.

Mr. Friedman took up his pen, and wrote a receipt in full, together with a Certificate of Freedom, as follows:

Received, Tusc.u.mbia, January 26th, 1849, of my boy Peter, three hundred dollars $300 00 JOS. FRIEDMAN.

Recd. Sept. 1st, 1849, of my boy Peter, $88 00 Eighty-eight dollars and twelve dollars 12 00 100 00

Recd. March 29th, 1850, of Peter, sixty dollars, 60 00 JOS.

FRIEDMAN, $460 00.

Received, April 16th, 1850, forty dollars, 40 00

$500 00.

For, and in consideration of the above five hundred dollars, I have this 16th day of April, 1850, given Peter a Bill of Sale, and given him his freedom.

JOSEPH FRIEDMAN.Tusc.u.mbia, Ala., April 16th, 1850.

Precious was this paper in the eyes of the self-ransomed slave, and yet he felt not all secure. The habit of doubting that truthfulness, of which he had so seldom seen an ill.u.s.tration, could not at once be overcome.

He had five dollars left, with which he bought a trunk of Mr.

Friedman; and then in one old silver dollar, which he had kept for many years, consisted all his store.

Mr. Friedman had charged him no interest on the two hundred dollars which he had advanced to purchase him of Mr. Hogan, and during the last year he had bestowed upon him many little presents. Jew though he was, and sometimes quoted as a miser, yet he knew the happiness of being a blessing to the poor.

Immediately after receiving this last payment from his servant, Joseph Friedman started for California, leaving Peter in the care of his brother Isaac. The whole transaction was still a secret, no mortal save the two brothers, and Peter's own family were aware that he had even wished for liberty.

He was one day engaged in cleaning the church, when two or three ladies came in to superintend his labors. Among them was Mrs. D.

one of the most excellent ladies in town. "Peter," said she, when she had finished giving him some direction, "you ought to be free.

You have been a faithful servant for a great many years; and now that you are getting old, you deserve to have your freedom, instead of being sold to those Jews."

"Oh!" replied he, "what use would it be for me to be free?"

"Why then you could do as you chose, and go wherever you liked."

"What! now I've got to be an old man, a'most fifty? I've got no house nor garden; and if I was free, I'd have to hire a house, and buy my own clothes; and then if I should be sick, there'd be n.o.body to take care of me. No, ma'am 'taint no use for me to think of bein' free. I'm too old to be turned off to take care of myself."

Thus carefully did he conceal his real feelings, lest he should place in greater peril that freedom which he had so dearly won.

At the approach of summer, Mr. Isaac Friedman decided to sell out his stock of goods in Tusc.u.mbia, in order to remove to Cincinnati, where his brother Levi then resided.

Peter no sooner learned this plan, than he requested leave to accompany him as far as Louisville. In all his intercourse with the Jew, he had never revealed to him his early history, or breathed to him his own great wish--that of seeking his parents, and his childhood's home. But he had often talked of Lexington, and now he said he should like once more to visit "the old place."

Mr. Friedman readily a.s.sented, and Peter commenced his preparations for the journey. His earnings since he had finished paying for himself together with his receipts from the sale of a few articles which he no longer needed, amounted to eighty dollars.

That he thought, would be sufficient to meet his expenses on the way.

The Tusc.u.mbians again became excited. Some gossiping oracle "reckoned" that Joseph Friedman had failed, and straightway that important reckoning was announced to be a fact. Joseph had failed, and Isaac was about to sell off his goods at auction, and quit the country. Uncle Peter, too was to be dragged off and sold, or, as some said, to be hired out upon a steamboat, and thus exposed to all the frightful sickness that then raged upon the Western rivers.

"Now Uncle Peter," said one, "if you find out that those Jews are about to sell you, just let me know, and I will buy you."

"It will be too bad for them to speculate out of you," said another, "but I expect that is what they bought you for."

To all these kind expressions of interest in his welfare, Peter had but one reply. "Ma.s.s'r Joe and Ma.s.s'r Isaac always has been good to me; and any how, I belong to them, and they can do what they like."

"What a contented old fellow he is!" said one who listened to this quiet answer. "I'd like that some of the abolitionists should hear him talk, they would be obliged to own that n.i.g.g.e.rs' pining to be free is moons.h.i.+ne."

The Sat.u.r.day before Mr. Friedman intended to leave town. Peter went out to pay a farewell visit to his family. To them he unburdened all his heart. His great hope had been, if he could once be free, to find his own relations, whom he always thought of as living in or near Philadelphia. Then, if they were able, perhaps they might a.s.sist him in the purchase of his wife and children, and so, at last, they could all dwell together.

This hope had so inspired the little family at Bainbridge, that their grief at parting with their beloved father was lost in the bright vision of a speedy reunion in the dwelling of the free. They knew nothing of the difficulties to be encountered; or of the time requisite to perfect such a work, even if their father were successful in his search. He had bought his freedom; and in their eyes, such an achievement proved him equal to the attainment of any end. Not thus sanguine was their father; but he was strong in his fixed resolve to work while he had breath for the redemption of his loved ones.

In sweet, though somewhat mournful, conversation pa.s.sed the hours of this precious visit. They were all too short for the utterance of the many last fond words; and on Monday morning, when the father was obliged to leave them they had not found time for half they wished to say.

The loud horn called them to their labors, and the children said "Good-bye," and hastened out--but Vina lingered. Oh! it was hard to see him go away alone --but still she would not bid him stay.

She mounted her mule, and rode toward the field, while Peter walked for a short distance by her side.

His heart was very heavy, but he uttered not his gloomy thoughts.

He would fain leave her cheerful; for he knew that ere his return, her heart would oftentimes be shadowed. So he spoke hopefully of the future, and bade her never fear for him. "I will come back,"

said he, "whether I find my people or not--I will come back, and let you know. Now take care of yourself and the children; and mind they don't tell the secret."

Too soon their paths diverged. When they came opposite the half-plowed field they stopped. "Well Peter," said the brave-hearted wife, "this yer's your road, and yon's mine.

Good-bye." One pressure of the hand--one last earnest look--and they each pursued a separate road; the one to slavery's dreary labors, the other toward that Paradise of hope--The North.

"Well Peter, this yer's your road, and yon's mine. See +.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

JOURNEY TO PHILADELPHIA.

ON the twentieth of July, all preliminaries being arranged, Mr.

Friedman and his servant took the boat for Louisville.

"Now, Peter," said Dr. W--, as he shook hands with him upon the sidewalk, "mind what I tell you; if those Jews go to sell you, just telegraph to me."

"Thank you, sir, I will; but I reckon they ain't gwine to sell me, any how."

Several other gentlemen, as he pa.s.sed along, gave him similar a.s.surances; and with the kindest wishes of all the citizens, he left the town.

"That is outrageous," said a kind hearted gentleman, who watched the faithful servant as he pa.s.sed out of sight--"for that Jew to carry off such a fellow as old Peter, and to have a right to sell him whenever he likes."

Peter paid his fare to Louisville by working on the boat--The Greek Slave--Captain Francis. When they reached that city, the cholera was raging fearfully; and Mr. Friedman thought best to make no stop, but to hasten on to Cincinnati. Thither also, Peter obtained permission to accompany him; and at six o'clock on the morning of the twenty-sixth of July, the free soil of Ohio was pressed by his weary feet.

Now, for a time, he threw off his pretended bonds, and gave way to his emotions of delight. Springing from the boat, he clapped his hands in ecstasy, shouting, "I'm free! I'm free! This is free ground!

The water runs free! The wind blows free! I am a slave no more!"

"Hus.h.!.+ Peter," said Mr. Friedman, "people will think you are a fool!"

That day, in the house of his brother, Levi Friedman, Peter revealed to his late master the story of his life. He told him all that he remembered of his early childhood--of his being stolen, of his brother's life and death, and of the one hope which had animated all his labors--that of returning to the spot where he was born, to find, if possible, his kindred, and to see his mother's grave.

Friedman listened with astonishment; and when Peter described, as well as he was able, his early home, which he located at Philadelphia, the Jew could not believe the tale. "No, no," cried he, "you came from Kentucky--your master told me so."

"Yes," replied Peter, "so I did come from Kaintucky; but I was stole and carried there when I was a little boy. I remember the Delaware river--it was not far from my mother's house; and that river is at Philadelphia --leastways, so people has told me. And now I want to go and see if I can find my relations."