while Mrs. Hayes showed
Henson's wife through the executive mansion. When he left the
President extended him a cordial invitation to call to see him again.
This was the last thing of note in his life. He returned to his home
in Canada and resumed the best he could the work he was prosecuting,
but old age and sickness overtook him and he passed away in 1881 in
the ninety-second year of his life.

W. B. HARTGROVE

FOOTNOTES:

[1] On account of ill health Mr. W. B. Hartgrove, who was preparing
this article, had to turn over his unfinished manuscript to the
editor, who completed it. The story is based on the "_Life of Josiah
Henson_," "_Father Henson's Story of His Own Life_" and "_Uncle Tom's
Story of His Life_."--THE EDITOR.

[2] Henson, "_Uncle Tom's Story of his Life_," p. 15.

[3] Henson, "_Uncle Tom's own Story of his Life_," p. 53.

[4] Henson gives this interesting conversation:

"How far is it to Canada?" He gave me a peculiar look, and in a minute
I saw he knew all. "Want to go to Canada? Come along with us, then.
Our captain's a fine fellow. We're going to Buffalo." "Buffalo; how
far is that from Canada?" "Don't you know, man? Just across the
river." I now opened my mind frankly to him, and told him about my
wife and children. "I'll speak to the captain," said he. He did so,
and in a moment the captain took me aside, and said, "The Doctor says
you want to go to Buffalo with your family." "Yes, sir." "Well why not
go with me?" was his frank reply. "Doctor says you've got a family."
"Yes, sir." "Where do you stop?" "About a mile back." "How long have
you been here." "No time," I answered, after a moment's hesitation.
"Come, my good fellow, tell us all about it. You're running away,
ain't you?" Henson saw that he was a friend, and opened his heart to
him. "How long will it take you to get ready?" "Be here in half an
hour, sir." "Well go along and get them." Off I started; but, before I
had run fifty feet, he called me back. "Stop," said he; "you go on
getting the grain in. When we get off, I'll lay to over opposite that
island, and send a boat back. There's a lot of regular nigger-catchers
in the town below, and they might suspect if you brought your party
out of the bush by daylight." I worked away with a will. Soon the two
or three hundred bushels of corn were aboard, the hatches fastened
down, the anchor raised, and the sails hoisted. I watched the vessel
with intens