Grace Anna
testifies that some of the best assistants they ever had in the house or
on the farm, were these escaped slaves; that in general they were
thrifty and economical, one man, for instance, who spent several years
with them, having accumulated five hundred dollars before he went on to
Canada; and another, enough to furnish an old coat with a full set of
buttons, each of which was a golden half-eagle, covered with cloth, and
firmly sewed on, besides an ample supply of good clothing for himself
and his wife; and that, almost without exception, they were honest and
loyal to their benefactors, and only too happy to find opportunities of
showing their gratitude. One man sent back to the sisters a letter of
thanks, through a gentleman in England, whither he had gone. And once,
when Grace Anna was passing an elegant mansion in Philadelphia, a
colored woman rushed out upon her with such an impetuous demonstration
of affection, joy, and thankfulness--all thought of fitness of time and
place swept away by the swell of strong emotion--as might well have
amused, or slightly astonished, the passers in the street, who knew not
that in her arms the woman's child had died. But it is no marvel that to
her the memory of that poor runaway slave-woman's true affection is more
than could have been the warmest welcome from her educated and refined
mistress.

One case, of which the sisters for a time had charge, seems worthy of a
somewhat more extended mention. In the fall of 1855 a slave named
Johnson, who, in fleeing from bondage, had come as far as Wilmington,
thinking he saw his master on the train by which he was journeying
northward, sprang from the car and hurt his foot severely. The Kennett
abolitionists having taken him in hand, and fearing that suspicious eyes
were on him in their region, felt it necessary to send him onward
without waiting for his wound to heal. He was therefore taken to the
Lewises, suffering very much in his removal, and arriving in a condition
which required the most assiduous care. For more than four months he
remained with them, patient and gentle in his helplessness and
suffering, and very thankful for the ministrations of kindness he
received. He was nursed as tenderly as if his own sisters had attended
him, instead of strangers, and was so carefully concealed that the
nearest neighbors knew not of his being with them. Their cousin, Morris
Fussell, who lived near, being a physician, they had not to de