Our path was beset with the greatest
obstacles; and if we succeeded in gaining the end of it, our right to be
free was yet questionable--we were yet liable to be returned to bondage.
We could see no spot, this side of the ocean, where we could be free.
We knew nothing about Canada. Our knowledge of the north did not extend
farther than New York; and to go there, and be forever harassed with the
frightful liability of being returned to slavery--with the certainty
of being treated tenfold worse than before--the thought was truly
a horrible one, and one which it was not easy to overcome. The case
sometimes stood thus: At every gate through which we were to pass, we
saw a watchman--at every ferry a guard--on every bridge a sentinel--and
in every wood a patrol. We were hemmed in upon every side. Here were the
difficulties, real or imagined--the good to be sought, and the evil
to be shunned. On the one hand, there stood slavery, a stern reality,
glaring frightfully upon us,--its robes already crimsoned with the blood
of millions, and even now feasting itself greedily upon our own flesh.
On the other hand, away back in the dim distance, under the flickering
light of the north star, behind some craggy hill or snow-covered
mountain, stood a doubtful freedom--half frozen--beckoning us to come
and share its hospitality. This in itself was sometimes enough to
stagger us; but when we permitted ourselves to survey the road, we were
frequently appalled. Upon either side we saw grim death, assuming the
most horrid shapes.
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