of many similar outrages committed in Pennsylvania. No pen can record, no human power can estimate, the aggregate of woe and guilt which was the legitimate result of that Fugitive Slave Bill.
The year 1855 was marked by a series of events unique in our history. A citizen of Philadelphia, whose name will always be associated with the cause of American liberty, in the legal performance of his duty, quietly informed three slaves who had been brought into this State by their master, a Virginia slaveholder, that by the laws of Pennsylvania they were free. The legally emancipated mother, Jane Johnson, availing herself of this knowledge, took possession of her own person and her own children; and their astonished master suddenly discovered that his power to hold them was gone forever. No judge, commissioner, or lawyer, however willing, could help him to recapture his prey. But a judge of the United States District Court could assist him in obtaining a mean revenge upon the brave man who had enlightened an ignorant woman respecting her legal right to freedom. Judge Kane, usurping jurisdiction in the case, and exercising great ingenuity to frame a charge of contempt of Court, succeeded in his purpose of imprisoning Passmore Williamson in our County jail. The baffled slaveholder also found sympathizers in the Grand Jury, who enabled him to indict for riot and assault and battery, Passmore Williamson, William Still, and five other persons. During the trial which ensued, the prosecutor and his allies were confounded by the sudden appearance of a witness whose testimony that she was not forcibly taken from her master's custody, but had left him freely, disconcerted all their schemes, and defeated the prosecution. The presence of Jane Johnson in that court room jeoparded her newly-acquired freedom; for though Pennsylvania was pledged to her protection, it was questionable whether the slave power, in the person of United States officers and their ever ready minions, would not forcibly overpower State authority and obtain possession of the woman. It was an intensely trying hour for her and for all who sympathized with her. Among those who attended her through that perilous scene, were the president of this Society, Sarah Pugh, and several of its members. All those ladies will testify to the calm bearing and firm courage of this emancipated slave-mother, in the hour of jeopardy to her newly-found freedom. Protected by the energy and skill of the presiding Judge, William D. Kelley, and of the State officers, her safe egress from the court-room was accomplished; and she was soon placed beyond the reach of her pursuers.
In 1859 we reaped a rich harvest from long years of sowing, in the result of the trial of the alleged fugitive slave, Daniel Webster. This trial will never be forgotten by those of us who witnessed it. The arrest was made in Harrisburg, in the month of April, and the trial was in this city before United States Commissioner John C. Longstreth. We do not, at this distance of time, need the records of that year, to remind us that "it was with heavy and hopeless hearts that the Abolitionists of this city gathered around that innocent and outraged man, and attended him through the solemn hours of his trial." The night which many of the members of this Society passed in that court, keeping vigils with the unhappy man whose fate hung tremulous on the decision of the young commissioner, was dark with despair; and the dawn of morning brought no hope to our souls. We confidently expected to witness again, as we had often witnessed before, the triumph of the kidnapper and his legal allies over law and justice and human liberty. In the afternoon of that day we re-assembled to hear the judicial decision which should consign the wretched man to slavery, and add another page to the record of Pennsylvania's disgrace. But a far different experience awaited us. Commissioner Longstreth obeyed the moral sentiment around him, and doubtless the voice of his conscience, and pronounced the captive free. "The closing scenes of this trial; the breathless silence with which the crowded assembly in the court-room waited to hear the death-knell of the innocent prisoner; the painfully sudden transition from despair to hope and thence to certainty of joy; the burst of deep emotion; the fervent thanksgiving, wherein was revealed that sense of the brotherhood of man which God has made a part of every human soul; the exultant shout which went up from the multitude who thronged the streets waiting for the decision"; these no language can portray, but they are life-long memories for those who shared in them. This event proved the great change wrought in the popular feeling, the result of twenty-five years of earnest effort to impress upon the heart of this community anti-slavery doctrines and sentiments. Then for the first time the Abolitionists of Philadelphia found their right of free speech protected by city authorities. Alexander Henry was the first Mayor of this city who ever quelled a pro-slavery mob.
Our last record of a victim sacrificed to this statute, is of the case of Moses Horner, who was kidnapped near Harrisburg in March, 1860, and doomed to slavery by United States Judge John Cadwallader, in this city. One more effort was made a few months later to capture in open day in the heart of this city a man alleged to be a fugitive slave, but it failed of ultimate success. The next year South Carolina's guns thundered forth the doom of the slave power. She aimed them at Fort Sumter and the United States Government. God guided their fiery death to the very heart of American slavery.
If the history of this Society were fully written, one of its most interesting chapters would be a faithful record of its series of annual fairs. Beginning in the year 1836, the series continued during twenty-six years, the last fair being held in December, 1861. The social attraction of these assemblies induced many young persons to mingle in them, besides those who labored from love of the cause. Brought thus within the circle of anti-slavery influence, many were naturally converted to our principles, and became earnest laborers in the enterprise which had so greatly enriched their own souls. The week of the fair was the annual Social Festival of the Abolitionists of the State. Though held under the immediate direction of this Society, it soon became a Pennsylvania institution. Hither our tribes came up to take counsel together, to recount our victories won, to be refreshed by social communion, and to renew our pledges of fidelity to the slave. There were years when these were very solemn festivals, when our skies were dark with gathering storms, and we knew not what peril the night or the morning might bring. But they were always seasons from which we derived strength and encouragement for future toil and endurance, and their value to our cause is beyond our power to estimate.
The pro-slavery spirit which always pervaded our city, and which sometimes manifested itself in the violence of mobs, never seriously disturbed our fair excepting in one instance. In the year 1859 our whole Southern country quaked with mortal fear in the presence of John Brown's great deed for Freedom. The coward North trembled in its turn lest its Southern trade should be imperilled, and in all its cities there went up a frantic cry that the Union must be saved and the Abolitionists suppressed. The usual time for holding our fair was at hand. Before it was opened a daily newspaper of this city informed its readers that notwithstanding the rebuke which the Abolitionists had received from a recent meeting of Union-savers, they had audaciously announced their intention of holding another fair, the avowed purpose of which was the dissemination of anti-slavery principles. The indignant journalist asked if Philadelphia would suffer such a fair to be held. This was doubtless intended as a summons to a mob, and a most deadly mob responded to the call. It did not expend its violence upon our fair, but against an assembly in National Hall, gathered to listen to a lecture by George W. Curtis, upon the Present Aspect of the Country.
The High Constable, Mayor, and Sheriff were the agents employed by the slave power to take and hold possession of Concert Hall, and in its behalf, if not in its name, to eject us and our property. The work was commenced by the Mayor, who sent the High Constable with an order that our flag should be removed from the street. Its offensiveness consisted in the fact that it presented to the view of all passers-by a picture of the Liberty Bell in Independence Hall, inscribed with the words, "Proclaim liberty throughout all the land, to all the inhabitants thereof." The next step was an attempt to induce the lessee to eject us from the hall. On his refusal to violate his contract with us, the trustees obtained legal authority to dispossess us on the plea that the hall had been rented for a purpose which tended to excite popular commotion. The sheriff entered, took possession, and informed the managers that our property must be removed within three hours. Then were the doors of this hall,62 where we are now assembled, opened to us, and here our fair was held, with great success, during the remainder of the week. In the stormiest seasons of our enterprise these saloons have never been closed against anti-slavery meetings; and our fair of 1860 was welcomed to them amidst the loud threatenings of a mob which were seeking to appease the angry South, then just rising in open rebellion against