My clothes were in tatters， my hands， face， and bodycovered with scratches， received from the sharp knotsof fallen trees， and in climbing over piles of brushand floodwood. My bare foot was full of thorns. I wasbesmeared with muck and mud， and the green slimethat had collected on the surface of the dead water， in which I had been immersed to the neck many timesduring the day and night. Hour after hour， and tiresomeindeed had they become， I continued to plod along onmy north-west course. The water began to grow lessdeep， and the ground more firm under my feet. At last Ireached the Pacoudrie， the same wide bayou I had swamwhile “outward bound.” I swam it again， and shortlyafter thought I heard a cock crow， but the sound wasfaint， and it might have been a mockery of the ear. Thewater receded from my advancing footsteps—now I hadleft the bogs behind me—now—now I was on dry landthat gradually ascended to the plain， and I knew I wassomewhere in the “Great Pine Woods.”
Just at day-break I came to an opening—a sort ofsmall plantation—but one I had never seen before. Inthe edge of the woods I came upon two men， a slave andhis young master， engaged in catching wild hogs. Thewhite man I knew would demand my pass， and not ableto give him one， would take me into possession. I was toowearied to run again， and too desperate to be taken， andtherefore adopted a ruse that proved entirely successful.
Assuming a fierce expression， I walked directly towardshim， looking him steadily in the face. As I approached，he moved backwards with an air of alarm. It was plain hewas much affrighted—that he looked upon me as someinfernal goblin， just arisen from the bowels of the swamp！
“Where does William Ford live？” I demanded， in nogentle tone.
“He lives seven miles from here，” was the reply.
“Which is the way to his place？” I again demanded，trying to look more fiercely than ever.
“Do you see those pine trees yonder？” he asked，pointing to two， a mile distant， that rose far above theirfellows， like a couple of tall sentinels， overlooking thebroad expanse of forest.
“I see them，” was the answer.
“At the feet of those pine trees，” he continued， “runsthe Texas road. Turn to the left， and it will lead you toWilliam Ford’s.”
Without further parley， I hastened forward， happy ashe was， no doubt， to place the widest possible distancebetween us. Striking the Texas road， I turned to the lefthand， as directed， and soon passed a great fire， where apile of logs were burning. I went to it， thinking I woulddry my clothes； but the gray light of the morning was fastbreaking away，—some passing white man might observeme； besides， the heat overpowered me with the desire ofsleep： so， lingering no longer， I continued my travels， andfinally， about eight o’clock， reached the house of MasterFord.
The slaves were all absent from the quarters， at theirwork. Stepping on to the piazza， I knocked at the door，which was soon opened by Mistress Ford. My appearancewas so changed—I was in such a wobegone and forlorncondition， she did not know me. Inquiring if Master Fordwas at home， that good man made his appearance， before the question could be answered. I told him of my flight，and all the particulars connected with it. He listenedattentively， and when I had concluded， spoke to mekindly and sympathetically， and taking me to the kitchen，called John， and ordered him to prepare me food. I hadtasted nothing since daylight the previous morning.
When John had set the meal before me， the madamcame out with a bowl of milk， and many little deliciousdainties， such as rarely please the palate of a slave. Iwas hungry， and I was weary， but neither food nor restafforded half the pleasure as did the blessed voicesspeaking kindness and consolation. It was the oil andthe wine which the Good Samaritan in the “Great PineWoods” was ready to pour into the wounded spirit of theslave， who came to him， stripped of his raiment and halfdead.
They left me in the cabin， that I might rest. Blessedbe sleep！ It visiteth all alike， descending as the dewsof heaven on the bond and free. Soon it nestled to mybosom， driving away the troubles that oppressed it， andbearing me to that shadowy region， where I saw againthe faces， and listened to the voices of my children， who，alas， for aught I knew in my waking hours， had fallen intothe arms of that other sleep， from which they never wouldarouse.
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