This life is a
stage, and we are indeed all actors.
CHAPTER XXVI
THE HERO OF A NIGHT.
MOUNTED on a fast horse, with the Quaker's son for a guide, Jerome
pressed forward while Uncle Joseph was detaining the slave-catchers
at the barn-door, through which the fugitive had just escaped.
When out of present danger, fearing that suspicion might be
aroused if he continued on the road in open day, Jerome buried
himself in a thick, dark forest until nightfall. With a yearning
heart, he saw the splendor of the setting sun lingering on the
hills, as if loath to fade away and be lost in the more sombre
hues of twilight, which, rising from the east, was slowly stealing
over the expanse of heaven, bearing silence and repose, which
should cover his flight from a neighborhood to him so full of
dangers.
Wearily and alone, with nothing but the hope of safety before him
to cheer him on his way, the poor fugitive urged his tired and
trembling limbs forward for several nights. The new suit of
clothes with which he had provided himself when he made his escape
from his captors, and the twenty dollars which the young Quaker
had slipped into his hand, when bidding him "Fare thee well,"
would enable him to appear genteelly as soon as he dared to travel
by daylight, and would thus facilitate his progress toward
freedom,
It was late in the evening when the fugitive slave arrived at a
small town on the banks of Lake Erie, where he was to remain over
night.
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