Francis Jackson Garrison, William Lloyd Garrison, 1805-1879; the story of his life told by his children: volume 1

[343] friends advised me to start early the next morning for this city, in the steamboat, hoping I might arrive in season to take passage therein, and thus baffle the vigilance of the enemy— but the ship sailed in the morning, and I did not get here till the afternoon; consequently, I failed to accomplish my ¹ purpose. My only alternative, therefore, is, to return again to New York to-morrow evening, and stealthily get away, if² possible, in the Liverpool packet³ that sails the next morning. Probably I shall not start in the ship, but go down the river in a pilot-boat and overtake her.

My friends are full of apprehension and disquietude; but I cannot know fear. I feel that it is impossible for danger to awe me. I tremble at nothing but my own delinquencies, as one who is bound to be perfect, even as my heavenly Father is perfect.

The second trip from New York to Philadelphia was, perhaps, made by the usual route, namely, by steamboat to Amboy, cars to Bordentown, N. J., and steamboat again to Philadelphia. The return was by another, with a view to eluding possible pursuit. Robert Purvis, acting on the suggestion of Lewis Tappan, drove Mr. Garrison with a fast horse to Trenton, some thirty miles, in three hours. Before reaching this place an incident occurred more full of peril than the machinations of kidnappers and colonizationists. A passing steamboat on the Delaware excited Mr. Garrison's curiosity to witness the pretty spectacle from a nearer point than the river road. Mr. Purvis accordingly turned his horse to the bank, where the view was unobstructed, but when driven away the jaded animal refused to go forward and began to back. Realizing the danger, Mr. Purvis jumped from the carriage, but Mr. Garrison sat in apparent indifference (probably the helplessness he always felt when behind an unruly horse) until roused by the sharp appeal of his friend—‘Sir, if you do not get out instantly you will be killed’—when he, too, made a timely escape, the horse being stopped just on the brink.⁴