THE RUNNING OF SLAVES - On the 30th ult. at the anniversary of the
Anti-Slavery Society of Boston, Henry Box Brown, the fugitive slave, whose
extraordinary escape from servitude in Richmond,
and almost miraculous arrival at Philadelphia,
created such a sensation, was introduced to the audience. He was
transported three hundred miles through a slaveholding country, and by public
thoroughfares, in a box, by measurement, exactly three feet one inch. long, two
feet wide, and two feet six inches deep. The following abstract of his
story is taken from the Traveller of the 2nd inst.:
While at Richmond,
though the box was legibly and distinctly marked "this side up with
care," it was placed on end, with his head downwards. He felt
strange pains, and was preparing himself to die, preferring liberty or death to
slavery, and he gave no sign. He was, however, relieved from this
painful position, and encountered no other danger than the rough landing of the
box, until it arrived in Washington.
When the porters who had charged of it reached the depot there, they threw or
dropped it with violence to the ground, and it rolled down a small hill,
turning over two or three times. This he thought was bad enough, but the
words he heard filled him with anguish, and brought with them the blackness of
despair. They were, that the box was so heavy that it could not be forwarded
on that night, but must lay over twenty-four hours. In the language of
the fugitive, "My heart swelled in my throat; I could scarcely breathe;
great sweats came over me; I gave up all hope." But a man came in
and said, "that box must go on; it's the express mail." Oh,
what relief I felt. It was taken into the depot, and I was placed head
downwards again for the space of half an hour. My wyes were swollen
almost out of my head, and I was fast becoming insensible, when the position
was changed.
He arrived in Philadelphia
after many hair-breadth escapes, and the box was taken to the house to which it
was directed. The panting inmate heard voices whispering; afterwards more
men came in. They were doubtful or fearful about opening the box.
He lay still, not knowing who the people were. Finally, one of them
knocked on the box and asked, "Is all right here?" "All
right," echoed from the box.
In corroboration of it, Rev. S. J. May said he was in Philadelphia in the midst of the excitement
caused by this wonderful adventure. He said that, for obvious reasons, he
could not give the name of the gentleman to whom the box was consigned.
