Near the time set for the execution of Mr. Brown we were all nervous, especially our Vida and Sarah Brown; they were about ready to fly, and what happened, Vida must tell it herself.

"Oh, no, papa; you're telling the story; keep right on."

Well, as I have said, we knew that the three Brown boys, Watson, Owen and Oliver, were dead and the father was to be executed December 2d, and we were running back and forth to the Elba Farm all the time, trying to help the women to bear up under this trying ordeal.

One dark evening, the last of November, two neighboring girls came in and stayed until after 10 o'clock, when Vida and my wife accompanied them to the gate. When she returned, as we were sitting before the fire in this big fireplace, a soft rap came on the door, which we seldom use, and as I rose up Vida said: "That is Flossy, let me go."

The door being in the entry, from where we sat Mary and I could not see Vida when she opened it, but listened if we might recognize the voice. The voice being inaudible, I started to go just as Vida uttered a low moan, staggered backwards to where I could see her, and fell in a dead faint.

I sprang to the open door and called out, but could see nor hear no one. Then I closed and locked it, and Mary brought the camphor, but we could not bring her back, so as to tell whom she had seen for a long time. When she recovered she said it was one of the Browns, but she thought he was dead. I instantly decided it was John Brown, who had escaped from Charlestown jail, which was a feasible conclusion, as all the news we were receiving in the Adirondacks was nearly a week old and unreliable.

Rushing out I ran down into the road, calling John by name, when I heard a voice near the house, and turning back, discovered it was Owen Brown, who had been reported missing, and we supposed he was dead.

When in out of the cold and before the big fireplace with Mary washing his hands and face, Vida trying to untangle his unkempt hair and I getting off his shoes, which had not been removed in weeks, he covered his face with his hands and wept, but did not speak.

After supper he listened to our reports from Harper's Ferry and North Elba as we had gained them, and then inquired if I thought it was imprudent for him to try to visit those at home, to which I assured him that he would be more safe in Washington than he was in the Adirondacks.

"Then," said he, "it is better that they never know you have seen me." Then turning to Vida said: "You can keep a secret?" Vida put her hand on his head saying, "Try me and see."

It was soon arranged that Mary should spend the next day cleaning and fixing his clothes, Vida would run Fleet Foot Jim up to the Elba Farm and without revealing anything bring back all the news, while I was to borrow what money he might require, and the following night he and I were to run, on saddle, to Robert Doan, a staunch abolitionist, from which place he would make his way to his brother at Dorsett, Ohio.