children, the latter having increased to the number of four, two little
boys and two little girls. But to escape from chains, stripes, and
bondage, she took her four little children and fled to a place near
Greenwich, New Jersey. Not a great while, however, did she remain there
in a state of freedom before the slave-hunters pursued her, and one
night they pounced upon the whole family, and, without judge or jury,
hurried them all back to slavery. Whether this was kidnapping or not is
for the reader to decide for himself.

Safe back in the hands of her owner, to prevent her from escaping a
second time, every night for about three months she was cautiously "kept
locked up in the garret," until, as they supposed, she was fully "cured
of the desire to do so again." But she was incurable. She had been a
witness to the fact that her own father's brains had been blown out by
the discharge of a heavily loaded gun, deliberately aimed at his head by
his drunken master. She only needed half a chance to make still greater
struggles than ever for freedom.

She had great faith in God, and found much solace in singing some of the
good old Methodist tunes, by day and night. Her owner, observing this
apparently tranquil state of mind, indicating that she "seemed better
contented than ever," concluded that it was safe to let the garret door
remain unlocked at night. Not many weeks were allowed to pass before she
resolved to again make a bold strike for freedom. This time she had to
leave the two little boys, Levin and Peter, behind.

On the night she started she went to the bed where they were sleeping,
kissed them, and, consigning them into the hands of God, bade her mother
good-bye, and with her two little girls wended her way again to
Burlington County, New Jersey, but to a different neighborhood from that