faith never wavered, her silent prayer still ascended, and she
confidently expected help from some quarter or other.

It was after dusk when a man came slowly walking along the solid
pathway on the edge of the swamp. He was clad in the garb of a
Quaker; and proved to be a "friend" in need and indeed; he seemed
to be talking to himself, but ears quickened by sharp practice
caught the words he was saying:

"My wagon stands in the barn-yard of the next farm across the way.
The horse is in the stable; the harness hangs on a nail." And the
man was gone. Night fell, and Harriet stole forth to the place
designated. Not only a wagon, but a wagon well provisioned stood
in the yard; and before many minutes the party were rescued from
their wretched position, and were on their way rejoicing, to the
next town. Here dwelt a Quaker whom Harriet knew, and he readily
took charge of the horse and wagon, and no doubt returned them to
their owner. How the good man who thus came to their rescue had
received any intimation of their being in the neighborhood Harriet
never knew. But these sudden deliverances never seemed to strike
her as at all strange or mysterious; her prayer was the prayer of
faith, and she _expected_ an answer.

At one time, as she was on her way South for a party of slaves,
she was stopped not far from the southern shore of the Chesapeake
Bay, by a young woman, who had been for some days in hiding, and
was anxiously watching for "Moses," who was soon expected to pass
that way.

This girl was a young and pretty Mulatto, named Tilly, she had