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Updated: May 20, 2025
Howard, Bowen, Claflin, Sage, Storrs, Freeland, Wheelock, Fanning, Mason, Caldwell, Ropes, Southwick, Murray, Leckler, Sloat, Corning, Hutchinson, Burgess, Dr. Morrill Studwell and others, and this was often an opportunity to welcome distinguished visitors. One such occasion I remember well, when a large number of distinguished people gathered to welcome Mr. Beecher's sister, Mrs.
Neither was Josh so indiscreet as to intimate to his benefactor that he had been anticipated in his good intentions. It was in this way, working and learning, that a year passed away, and Mr. Leckler thought that his object had been accomplished. He could safely trust Josh to protect his own interests, and so he thought that it was quite time that his servant's education should cease.
Leckler felt it just possible that the market in slaves would take a sudden rise. When Josh was told of his master's intention, his eyes gleamed with pleasure, and he went to his work with the zest of long hunger. He proved a remarkably apt pupil. He was indefatigable in doing the tasks assigned him. Even Mr.
Close-fisted old reprobate, I've a mind to have the law on him." Mr. Leckler heard the story with great glee. "I laid for him that time the old fox." But to Mrs. Leckler he said: "You see, my dear wife, my rashness in teaching Josh to figure for himself is vindicated. See what he has saved for himself." "What did he save?" asked the little woman indiscreetly.
The scent led them directly to a little wayside station about six miles distant. Here it stopped. Burning with the chase, Mr. Leckler hastened to the station agent. Had he seen such a negro? Yes, he had taken the northbound train two nights before. "But why did you let him go without a pass?" almost screamed the owner. "I didn't," replied the agent.
"He had a written pass, signed James Leckler, and I let him go on it." "Forged, forged!" yelled the master. "He wrote it himself." "Humph!" said the agent, "how was I to know that? Our niggers round here don't know how to write." Mr. Leckler suddenly bethought him to hold his peace.
Josh was probably now in the arms of some northern abolitionist, and there was nothing to be done now but advertise; and the disgusted master spread his notices broadcast before starting for home. As soon as he arrived at his house, he sought his wife and poured out his griefs to her. "You see, Mrs. Leckler, this is what comes of my goodness of heart.
Leckler found it profitable, instead of letting him do chores and field work in his idle time, to hire him out to neighboring farms and planters. Josh was a man of more than ordinary intelligence; and when he asked to be allowed to pay for himself by working overtime, his master readily agreed, for it promised more work to be done, for which he could allow the slave just what he pleased.
He raged; he fumed; but nothing could be done until morning, and all the time Leckler knew that the most valuable slave on his plantation was working his way toward the North and freedom. He did not go back home, but paced the floor all night long. In the early dawn he hurried out, and the hounds were put on the fugitive's track. After some nosing around they set off toward a stretch of woods.
But my conscience rises up in rebellion every time I think of that poor black man being cheated out of his earnings. Really, Mrs. Leckler, I think I may trust to Josh's discretion, and secretly give him such instructions as will permit him to protect himself." "Well, of course, it's just as you think best," said his wife. "I knew you would agree with me," he returned.
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