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Above is the Underground Railroad Slave Code, quite a feat. Masterful for its purpose. "Northrup....became an advocate for abolitionism and in the 1860s began helping fugitive slaves via the Underground Railroad.....Northrup is believed to have died between 1863 and 1875, but both the date and circumstances of his death are unknown."      

There usually is a part in most book especially nonfiction where you have to let yourself go and have a good cry. This is the part in this book for me. "As I entered their comfortable cottage, Margaret was the first that met me. She did not recognize me. When I left her, she was but seven years old, a little prattling girl, playing with her toys. Now she was grown to womanhood--was married, with a bright-eyed boy standing by her side. Not forgetful of his enslaved, unfortunate grandfather, she had named the child Solomon Northrup Staunton. When told who I was, she was overcome with emotion, and unable to speak. Presently Elizabeth entered the room, and Anne came running from the hotel, having been informed of my arrival. They embraced me, and with tears flowing down their cheeks, hung upon my neck. But I draw a veil over a scene which can better be imagined than described." "Margaret once returned from school--weeping bitterly. On inquiring the cause of the child

Usually, I am use to reading novels that happen during the Civil War or after the Civil War like the days of Reconstruction. It is rare that I've read about the slaves during the earlier days of the Nineteenth Century. The time when slaves had no idea that the word freedom existed unless they could remember their lives on the shores of Africa. Of course, the trip from Africa was so filthy and cruel, it is hard to believe that they could remember Africa at all. Once here slaves only knew they could be bought and sold like a mule or horse or a barn on the master's and mistress's property. So the title of Sue Monk Kidd's novel "The Invention of Wings" became a bright light to where she would lead me in her book. Although it is a time of bondage, reconciled by the White man through the Divine Word, it is also a time when slaves gave their health, their lives to catch a glimpse of what the White man kept for himself, freedom. The word invention was my road sign al

" When I'd returned to Philadelphia after my disastrous attempt to resume life in charleston, I'd rented a room in the home of (Lucretia Mott), determined to make some kind of life for myself..."

" It's the journal of John Woolman....As the conversation turned once again to Quakerism, he opened the book and read fragments to me, attempting to educate me about their beliefs."

" One Sunday when the air was crisp and razor-cut with light, I walked ankle-deep in fallen leaves all the way to Arch Street, where I came upon a Quaker meeting house of such size I paused to stare...I observed them against the red bricks, the steeple-less roof, the plain shutteredwindows, and I felt repelled."

" With beading of some kind. Mrs. Russell had jet beads on hers. I will need a (spoon bonnet) with a long crepe veil down the back. And black gloves, but make them fingerless mitts because of the heat."