to be on one side of a stream, or river as they called it, while they were on the opposite. They challenged him to come across. But he, no doubt doubting the feasibility of such a step, declined the invitation. Quickly gathering reinforcements he renewed the chase and arrived in sight of them as they reached and entered a dense thicket

"Where hardly a human foot could pass,

Or a human heart would dare:

On the quaking turf of the green morass,
Each crouched in the rank and tangled grass,

Like a wild beast in his lair."

Here they successfully eluded all pursuit.

After re

maining until they considered all danger past they came out and made the rest of the journey in safety.

Joseph and Richard hired in the neighborhood. Jacob remained in Ercildoun, was industrious and saving, purchased a property on which he still resides, is a minister and much respected.

GRAVNER AND HANNAH MARSH.

Gravner (1777-1848), and Hannah Marsh (1789-1864), were among the early abolitionists whose home became one of the first "regular stations" on the fugitives' route through Chester county. They resided in Caln township, five miles west of Downington. The husband felt it a duty to encourage political action against the national evil of holding the descendants of one country as chattel slaves for no other cause than that of being black; while the government threw open its doors and invited the white inhabitants of all other countries to come, settle on our lands and become free citizens under the aegis of our laws. He therefore united himself with the Free-soil Party who considered that—

"Man is one,

And he hath one great heart. It is thus we feel

With a gigantic throb athwart the sea

Each other's rights and wrongs."

Hannah was also an active worker in the cause, and attended all anti-slavery meetings in the neighborhood when the public denounced them as not respectable gatherings. She was known as being a very kind woman -a real mother to all.

Slaves came to their place from Daniel Gibbons, Joseph Haines, James Fulton, Lindley Coates, Mordecai Hayes, Thomas Bonsall, and others.

When sent on foot they were generally given a slip of paper with writing which the family would recognize. James Fulton frequently wrote but the single word "Ercildoun," or "Fallowfield." They were to know the place by its having large stone buildings with extensive white-washed stone walls around them. These came in daytime. When brought, it was chiefly at night, or after dusk. The barking of the watch-dog, announced their coming and aroused the family who would raise a window and call. A known voice would reply "Thomas Bonsall's carriage;" or similar replies would be given by conductors from other places.

These fugitives were always provided with food; the women were secreted in the house, the men in a haymow at the barn. Sarah Marsh, daughter of Gravner and Hannah, took them to Allen Wills, John Vickers, Grace Anna Lewis, Micajah Speakman, and occasionally, when she could not go so far, to Dr. Eshleman. These journeys were made in day-time until after the passage of the Fugitive Slave Law-the women riding with her while the men went on foot. Sometimes her

dearborn was so full that she rode in front with her feet on the shafts. This attracted no attention, as she attended Philadelphia markets and was frequently compelled to ride in that way when her wagon was packed with marketing.

were

When danger was apprehended, the women dressed in plain attire, to make them look like Friends, with large bonnets and veils as was the custom in those days.

After the passage of that punitive law they felt it necessary to be even more wary and careful than before, and she seldom ventured with them in day-time. If they came in the early part of night, a supper was given them and she took them to the stations mentioned, and returned before morning, regardless of the condition of roads, darkness or the weather.

She took nine, men, women and children, one night, to John Vicker's, a distance of nine miles. She paid toll on the turnpike road, as if going to market. The men walked, and when arriving at the toll gates, went around them through the fields. They arrived at 11 o'clock, and she returned by morning.

Their neighbors were pro-slavery, and knew that they assisted fugitives, but yet bore a respectful regard for them, and manifested no disposition to inform upon them. The curiosity, however, of one woman to know how many slaves passed through their hands in one year was aroused to such a degree that she watched the road for twelve months, and counted sixty; and "she knew that they and James Fulton and others didn't do all that for nothing. They wouldn't harbor and feed that many in a year without getting paid for it in some way."

But of the number that may have passed when she was
"off guard," at meals or otherwise, and of the number
that were brought at nights, she had no conception. The
idea of pecuniary compensation for services rendered
these poor human beings never entered the minds of their
Christian benefactors. A purer, loftier, nobler purpose
actuated their hearts than that of doing mercenary work
under the semblance of charity and benevolence.
"Hast thou power? the weak defend;

Light? give light; thy knowledge lend;
Rich ?--remember Him who gave;
Free?--be brother to the slave."

While Richard Gibbs, a colored man, was at work after harvest in the barnyard of Gravner Marsh, a slave master drove up in his "sulkey," followed by his drivers in another vehicle. So intent was the colored man upon his work that he did not notice any one coming until he was accosted with "Well, Gibbs, you are hard at it." There was something alarmingly familiar in the sound of that voice. He raised his eyes, and there, behold! was his old master close upon him. He did not stop to parley about matters, but dropping his fork, he put his hands upon a fence close by, leaped it and ran down a hill toward a grove along side of which was Beaver creek. The men jumped from their carriage and pursued, gaining on him, as he wore heavy boots. The master was a cripple and could not run. When he reached the fence at the foot of the hill the men were but a few feet behind him; but he sprang for the top rail, tumbled over it with a somersault, ran through a a creek and into a thicket of grape vines and briers where he disappeared from their sight while they halted on the swampy bank of the stream as if reluctant to

pursue him through that mud, water and tangled fen. He went to Thomas Spackman's, where he was safely ensconced, and sent for his wife. Gravner Marsh was also informed. He went there and consulted with Thomas as to the best means for their escape. They deemed it expedient for him and his wife to go entirely out of the neighborhood into some distant parts, and to change their names, and then gave them the necessary amount of money to go with. After some time they wrote back stating that they had arrived at their destination, and were safe.

Gravner Marsh died in 1848. His widow continued to aid fugitives as before, assisted by her ever earnest and energetic daughter, Sarah, (Born First month 30th, 1819), who still made her journeys at night. No thought of its being a trouble ever marred the pleasure that filled her heart in thus forwarding slaves to liberty. No sombre clouds of selfishness could ever bedim the rays of happiness that fell upon, and lightened her spirit in those nightly missions of love to the oppressed of God's creatures, although, undoubtedly she heartily wished at all times that the cause for this draft on benevolence had no longer an existence.

In 1854 she married Eusebius Barnard, (18021865), a minister in the Society of Friends, an earnest abolitionist, an enthusiastic reformer, and an active agent on the Underground Railroad. In her new capacity she rendered as valuable services to her husband in aiding fugitives as she did to her father and mother.

The main props of the Gravner Marsh station being now removed, the extensive accommodations it had furnished could be supplied no longer.