escaping, two
only remained--himself and William, (save a little boy) and on himself a
mortgage for seven hundred and fifty dollars was then resting. He could,
therefore, with his remarkably quick intellect, calculate about how long
it would be before he reached the auction block.

He had a wife but no child. She was owned by Mr. Henry W. Quarles. So
out of that Sodom he felt he would have to escape, even at the cost of
leaving his wife behind. Of course he felt hopeful that the way would
open by which she could escape at a future time, and so it did, as will
appear by and by. His aged mother he had to leave also.

Wm. Henry Gilliam likewise belonged to the Widow White, and he had been
hired to Messrs. White and Brother to drive their bread wagon. William
was a baker by trade. For his services his mistress had received one
hundred and thirty-five dollars per year. He thought his mistress quite
as good, if not a little better than most slave-holders. But he had
never felt persuaded to believe that she was good enough for him to
remain a slave for her support.

Indeed, he had made several unsuccessful attempts before this time to
escape from slavery and its horrors. He was fully posted from A to Z,
but in his own person he had been smart enough to escape most of the
more brutal outrages. He knew how to read and write, and in readiness of
speech and general natural ability was far above the average of slaves.

He was twenty-five years of age, well made, of light complexion, and
might be put down as a valuable piece of property.

This loss fell with crushing weight upon the kind-hearted mistress, as
will be seen in a letter subjoined which she wrote to the unfaithful
William, some time after he had fled.

LETTER FROM MRS. L.E. WHITE.

RICHMOND, 16th, 1854.

DEAR HENRY:--Your mother and myself received your letter; she is
much distressed at your conduct; she is remaining just as you
left her, she says, and she will never be reconciled to your
conduct.

I think Henry, you have acted most dishonorably; had you have
made a confidant of me I would have been better off; and you as
you are. I am badly situated, living with Mrs. Palmer, and
having to put up with everything--your mother is also
dissatisfied--I am miserably poor, do not get a cent of your
hire or James', besides losing you both, but if you can
_reconcile_ so do. By renting a cheap house, I might have