of
kidnappers? Dost thou suppose the laws of Pennsylvania tolerate such
proceedings?"

These charges arrested the attention of Mr. Low and his companions, who
turned round to answer the speaker. The slave, seeing their backs toward
him for an instant, seized that opportunity to rush out; and he had run
two or three rods before they missed him. They immediately raised the
cry of "Stop Thief! Stop Thief!" An Irishman, who joined in the
pursuit, arrested the fugitive and brought him back to his master.

Friend Hopper remonstrated with him; saying, "The man is not a thief.
They claim him for a slave, and he was running for liberty. How wouldst
thou like to be made a slave?"

The kind-hearted Hibernian replied, "Then they lied; for they said he
was a thief. If he is a slave, I'm sorry I stopped him. However, I will
put him in as good a condition as I found him." So saying, he went near
the man who had the fugitive in custody, and seized him by the collar
with a sudden jerk, that threw him on the pavement. The slave instantly
started, and ran at his utmost speed, again followed by the cry of "Stop
Thief!" Having run some distance, and being nearly out of breath, he
darted into the shop of a watch-maker, named Samuel Mason, who
immediately closed and fastened his door, so that the crowd could not
follow him. The fugitive passed out of the back door, and was never
afterward recaptured.

The disappointed master brought an action against Samuel Mason for
rescuing his slave. Charles J. Ingersoll and his brother Joseph, two
accomplished lawyers of Philadelphia, conducted the trial for him, with
zeal and ingenuity worthy of a better cause. Isaac T. Hopper was
summoned as a witness, and in the course of examination he was asked
what course members of the Society of Friends adopted when a fugitive
slave came to them. He replied, "I am not willing to answer for any one
but myself."

"Well," said Mr. Ingersoll, "what would _you_ do in such a case? Would
you deliver him to his master?

"Indeed I would not!" answered the Friend. "My conscience would not
permit me to do it. It would be a great crime; because it would be
disobedience to my own dearest convictions of right. I should never
expect to enjoy an hour of peace afterward. I would do for a fugitive
slave whatever I should like to have done for myself, under similar
circumstances. If he asked my protection, I would extend it to him to
the utmost of my power. If he was hungry