another letter dated Lewis Centre, Ohio, we copy the following
characteristic extract:

"Yesterday I sent you thirty dollars. Take five of it for the
rescuers (who were in prison), and the rest pay away on the
books. My offering is not large; but if you need more, send me
word. Also how comes on the Underground Rail Road? Do you need
anything for that? You have probably heard of the shameful
outrage of a colored man or boy named Wagner, who was kidnapped
in Ohio and carried across the river and sold for a slave....
Ohio has become a kind of a negro hunting ground, a new Congo's
coast and Guinea's shore. A man was kidnapped almost under the
shadow of our capital. Oh, was it not dreadful?... Oh, may the
living God prepare me for an earnest and faithful advocacy of
the cause of justice and right!"

In those days the blows struck by the hero, John Brown, were agitating
the nation. Scarcely was it possible for a living soul to be more deeply
affected than this female advocate. Nor did her sympathies end in mere
words. She tendered material aid as well as heartfelt commiseration.

To John Brown's wife[A] she sent through the writer the following
letter:

[Footnote A: Mrs. Harper passed two weeks with Mrs. Brown at the house
of the writer while she was awaiting the execution of her husband, and
sympathized with her most deeply.]

LETTER TO JOHN BROWN'S WIFE.

FARMER CENTRE, OHIO, Nov. 14th.

MY DEAR MADAM:--In an hour like this the common words of
sympathy may seem like idle words, and yet I want to say
something to you, the noble wife of the hero of the nineteenth
century. Belonging to the race your dear husband reached forth
his hand to assist, I need not tell you that my sympathies are
with you. I thank you for the brave words you have spoken. A
republic that produces such a wife and mother may hope for
better days. Our heart may grow more hopeful for humanity when
it sees the sublime sacrifice it is about to receive from his
hands. Not in vain has your dear husband periled all, if the
martyrdom of one hero is worth more than the life of a million
cowards. From the prison comes forth a shout of triumph over
that power whose ethics are robbery of the feeble and oppression
of the weak, the trophies of whose chivalry are a plundered
cradle and a scourged and bleeding woman. Dear sister, I thank