FootNote
The new kid on the block, FootNote is known for digitizing historical
documents... many of which are genealogical gems. With naturalizations,
city directories, war records, newspapers, town records, etc... this new
kid is quickly being recognized as an alternative to Ancestry.
While we know our northern friends may not feel it, in the South, Spring is
here. So we thought we'd share a few of our gardening sites appropriate
for this time of the year. Along with gardening, there's grilling, and getting
ready to diet so that you can fit back into that bathing suit this summer!
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 somber 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. How strange were his feelings! While
his heart throbbed for that freedom and
safety which Canada alone could furnish to
the whip scarred slave, on the American
continent, his thoughts were with Clotelle.
Was she still in prison, and if so, what
would be her punishment for aiding him to
escape from prison? Would he ever behold her
again? These were the thoughts that followed
him to his pillow, haunted him in his
dreams, and awakened him from his slumbers.
The alarm of fire aroused the inmates of the
hotel in which Jerome had sought shelter for
the night from the deep sleep into which
they had fallen. The whole village was
buried in slumber, and the building was half
consumed before the frightened inhabitants
had reached the scene of the conflagration.
The wind was high, and the burning embers
were wafted like so many rockets through the
sky. The whole town was lighted up, and the
cries of women and children in the streets
made the scene a terrific one. Jerome heard
the alarm, and hastily dressing himself, he
went forth and hastened toward the burning
building.
"There, there in that room in the second
story, is my child!" exclaimed a woman,
wringing her hands, and imploring some one
to go to the rescue of her little one.
The broad sheets of fire were flying in the
direction of the chamber in which the child
was sleeping, and all hope of its being
saved seemed gone. Occasionally the wind
would life the pall of smoke, and show that
the work of destruction was not yet
complete. At last a long ladder was brought,
and one end placed under the window of the
room. A moment more and a bystander mounted
the ladder and ascended in haste to the
window. The smoke met him as he raised the
sash, and he cried out, "All is lost!" and
returned to the ground without entering the
room.
Another sweep of the wind showed that the
destroying element had not yet made its
final visit to that part of the doomed
building. The mother, seeing that all hope
of again meeting her child in this world was
gone, wrung her hands and seemed
inconsolable with grief.
At this juncture, a man was seen to mount
the ladder, and ascend with great rapidity.
All eyes were instantly turned to the figure
of this unknown individual as it disappeared
in the cloud of smoke escaping from the
window. Those who a moment before had been
removing furniture, as well as the idlers
who had congregated at the ringing of the
bells, assembled at the foot of the ladder,
and awaited with breathless silence the
reappearance of the stranger, who,
regardless of his own safety, had thus
risked his life to save another's. Three
cheers broke the stillness that had fallen
on the company, as the brave man was seen
coming through the window and slowly
descending to the ground holding under one
arm the inanimate form of the child. Another
cheer and then another, made the welkin
ring, as the stranger, with hair burned and
eyebrows closely singed, fainted at the foot
of the ladder. But the child was saved.
The stranger was Jerome. As soon as he
revived, he shrunk from every eye, as if he
feared they would take from him the freedom
which he had gone through so much to obtain.
The next day, the fugitive took a vessel,
and the following morning found himself
standing on the free soil of Canada. As his
foot pressed the shore, he threw himself
upon his face, kissed the earth, and
exclaimed, "O God! I thank thee that I am a
free man."
Clotelle or The Colored Heroine, A tale
of the Southern States
