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| 764 THE UNDERGROUND RAIL ROAD. In the State of Maine the papers brought to her notice the capture of Margaret Garner, and the tragic and bloody deed connected therewith. And she writes: " Rome had her altars where the trembling criminal, and the worn and weary slave might fly for an asylum—Judea her cities of refuge; but Ohio, with her Bibles and churches, her baptisms and prayers, had not one temple so dedicated to human rights, one altar go consecrated to human liberty, that trampled upon and down-trodden innocence knew that it could find protection for a nigbt, or shelter for a day." In the fall of 1860, in the city of Cincinnati, Mrs. Harper was married to Fenton Harper, a widower, and resident of Ohio. It seemed obvious that this change would necessarily take her from the sphere of her former usefulness. The means she had saved from the sale of her books and from her lectures, she invested in a small farm near Columbus, and in a short time after her marriage she entered upon house-keeping. Notwithstanding her family cares, coasequent upon married life, she only ceased from her literary and anti-slavery labors, when compelled to do so by other duties. On the 23d of May, 1864, death deprived her of her husband. . Whilst she could not give so much attention to writing as she could have desired in her household days, she, nevertheless, did then produce some of her best productions. Take the following for a sample, on the return from Cleveland, Ohio, of a poor, ill-fated slave-girl, (under the Fugitive Slave Law): TO THE TOION SAYERS OF CLEVELAND. Men of Cleveland, had a vulture Sought a timid dove for prey, Wonld you not, with human pity, Drive the gory bird away? Had you seen a feeble lambkin. Shrinking from a wolf so bold,. Would ye not to shield the trembler, In your arms have made its fold? But when she, a hunted slater, Stretched her hands that ye might save, Colder far than Zambia's regions Waa the answer that ye gave. On the Union's bloody altar, Was your hapless victim laid ; Mercy, truth and justice shuddered, But your hands would give no aid. And ye sent ber back to torture, Bobbed of freedom and of right. Thrust the wretched, captive stringer. Back to slavery's gloomy nigbt. |