and as an illustration of the
true character of the man, from his boyhood up to the day he died for
his fellow-man, she related his eventful career, and recalled a number
of instances of his heroic and daring deeds for others, sacrificing his
time and often periling his life in the cause of those who he considered
were suffering gross wrongs and oppression. Hence, she concluded, that
it was only natural for him in this case to have taken the steps he did.
Now and then overflowing tears would obstruct this deeply thrilling and
most remarkable story she was telling of her brother, but her memory
seemed quickened by the sadness of the occasion, and she was enabled to
recall vividly the chief events connected with his past history. Thus
his agency in this movement, which cost him his life, could readily
enough be accounted for, and the individuals who listened attentively to
the story were prepared to fully appreciate his character, for, prior to
offering his services in this mission, he had been a stranger to them.

The following extract, taken from a letter of a subsequent date, in
addition to the above letter, throws still further light upon the
heart-rending affair, and shows Mr. Johnston's deep sympathy with the
sufferers and the oppressed generally--

EXTRACT OF A LETTER FROM REV. N.R. JOHNSTON.

My heart bleeds when I think of those poor, hunted and
heart-broken fugitives, though a most interesting family, taken
back to bondage ten-fold worse than Egyptian. And then poor
Concklin! How my heart expanded in love to him, as he told me
his adventures, his trials, his toils, his fears and his hopes!
After hearing all, and then seeing and communing with the
family, now joyful in hopes of soon seeing their husband and
father in the land of freedom; now in terror lest the human
blood-hounds should be at their heels, I felt as though I could
lay down my life in the cause of the oppressed. In that hour or
two of intercourse with Peter's family, my heart warmed with
love to them. I never saw more interesting young men. They would
make Remonds or Douglasses, if they had the same opportunities.

While I was with them, I was elated with joy at their escape,
and yet, when I heard their tale of woe, especially that of the
mother, I could not suppress tears of deepest emotion.

My joy was short-lived. Soon I heard of their capture. The
telegraph had