Your Story Hour

Aunt Nikki: Hey everybody, come on! Your story hour's on! Welcome to Your Story Hour. I’m Aunt Nikki.

Uncle Jon: And I’m Uncle Jon, and we’re here to bring you today’s inspiring story.

Aunt Nikki: Hello and welcome to Your Story Hour. Uncle Jon and I are really glad you’ve joined us today because, as usual, we have a story all ready to roll.

Uncle Jon: Yes, we do, Aunt Nikki, and a very unusual one at that. So let’s tell everyone a little bit about it. What do you say?

Aunt Nikki: All right. First of all, this story took place some time ago. In fact, it begins in the early 1800s.

Uncle Jon: And we all know of a very famous person who was born back in that era: Abraham Lincoln, 1809.

Aunt Nikki: Yes, and interestingly enough, Abraham Lincoln played a role many years later in the lives of millions of folks who lived in dire circumstances, very similar to the subject of today’s story.

Uncle Jon: So everyone is probably already guessing that today’s story has something to do with a dark period in the past when slavery was actually accepted and practiced by many.

Aunt Nikki: Yes, Uncle Jon. Sad but true. Our story begins in 1815 near Richmond, Virginia, where a little boy named Henry was born to parents who were both slaves. That meant, of course, that even as a child, Henry was a slave himself.

Uncle Jon: Right. However, in a sense, Henry was fortunate because he wasn’t sold away from his family as a baby, as many slave children were.

Aunt Nikki: Still, he started out life in a very difficult place.

Uncle Jon: Absolutely. So then, let’s join Aunt Carole as she brings us the story of *The Escape of Henry Box Brown*.

Aunt Carole: As our story opens, little Henry, six years old, is sitting on his mother’s knee at the doorway of their cabin. An autumn thunderstorm has just passed by.

Henry's Mother: You see that, Henry? You see those trees yonder in the wood? Most all the leaves is blown away. Yes, they is, stripped off by the wind. Just like our children swept away from us by the hands of the cruel masters. Oh, Henry, I just want to hug you so tight. Thank you, God, that my boy is with me still.

Henry Brown: Mama, is you all a-praying to the Master?

Henry's Mother: To the Master?

Henry Brown: He is God, ain’t he?

Henry's Mother: Our Master, big God? Why, Henry, whatever put that notion into your head?

Henry Brown: The Master, he say the thunder’s the voice of God. And when the storm come, he say you children, you run inside quick. So if he say it’s gonna thunder, then he must be...

Henry's Mother: Oh no, the Master, he ain’t God, though he act like he think he is sometimes.

Henry Brown: But after the rain come, the Master, he say, “Look at them flowers.” So the Master, he must make the rain come to grow his flowers.

Henry's Mother: Oh no, boy. No, no. The real God, He is up in heaven, and His Son too, Jesus Christ. They are kind, Henry. They love us. They don’t like the way we’re treated down here, not at all.

And They want you to be a good boy. And They tell us, “Don’t you steal, don’t you lie.” You be nice. You always remember what your mama just told you. You promise?

Henry Brown: I promise, Mama. I ain’t never gonna forget.

Aunt Carole: Henry could hardly be blamed for his confusion about God, since all of the slave children on the plantation had the same idea. The Master seemed all-powerful, even to the point of commanding the thunder to roll.

And even though the Master did hold the fate of all his slaves in his hands, Henry and his brother eventually discovered that their lives could have been much worse. One day, the two boys took grain to the mill, and while they waited, a group of sad-looking slaves passed them by.

Guest (Male): Where you suppose those two boys come from? Why, look there! They is wearing shoes and hats!

Guest (Female): And just look at them vests! In all my days, I ain’t never seen slaves dressed like they is.

Henry's Brother: Henry, I wonder who they belong to.

Henry Brown: I don’t know. Barely got any clothes on them at all.

Henry's Brother: Yeah, they look pretty hungry too. You want to share our lunch with them?

Henry Brown: Yeah, they sure do look kind of skinny. Come on, let’s go give them something to eat.

Aunt Carole: As life continued, Henry realized more and more how fortunate his family was compared to the fate of many slaves. For one thing, they were never whipped. Still, they were owned as property and had no real rights.

One of the sons of their old Master, as they called him, eventually freed a number of his slaves, and through the years, the old Master had let them hope that when he died, they would be freed as well. But when the old Master called Henry to his deathbed...

Old Master: Henry, boy, come near.

Henry Brown: Yes, Master.

Old Master: I don’t have much longer on this earth. My son Charles has freed his slaves, so I have given you to my son William.

Henry Brown: William? But sir...

Old Master: I know you’ll make a good plowboy. Now, you must always be honest, and you must obey William. Do you understand?

Henry Brown: Yes, I understand.

Aunt Carole: And so, at the age of 15, Henry was sent to work in a tobacco factory which William owned in the nearby city of Richmond. This meant Henry was now, for the first time, separated from his family. However, William did try to treat Henry reasonably well.

William: Now, Henry, if you work hard, I'll take good care of you. I’ll give you money to spend, and I’ve already bought new clothes for you to wear. I’ve also told the factory overseer that you’re a smart fellow that my own father raised you, and that he must never take the whip to you. But I’m depending on you to behave yourself.

Aunt Carole: During the following years, as Henry worked with other slaves to prepare tobacco for sale, a series of men served as overseers. Some were relatively kind, and others could have qualified as the cruelest and meanest of villains.

In spite of the hardships, however, Henry began to think that he might like to find a wife. Soon he met and fell in love with a young woman named Nancy, a slave who belonged to a bank clerk by the name of Mr. Lee. Before long...

Henry Brown: Nancy, you know we can’t get married unless we have permission from both my master and yours. I think my master William might give his consent to me, but I don’t know about Mr. Lee.

Nancy: Oh, Henry. Do you think he will? I hope so much.

Henry Brown: All we can do is hope that God will smile on us and that Mr. Lee will say yes.

Mr. Lee: So you want to marry Nancy, do you?

Henry Brown: Yes, sir.

Mr. Lee: Well, Henry, it is Henry, isn’t it?

Henry Brown: Yes, sir, Henry Brown.

Mr. Lee: I see. Well, anyway, Nancy is a good girl, and I intend never to sell her. So in order to grant my permission, I’ll have to know that your master does not intend on selling you either.

I have been long troubled, horrified, that families are broken up when any of its members are sold away to well, who knows where? So, if you will, take this note to your master just to make sure he does not plan to sell you. There, that should do it. He and I will discuss the matter, and we shall see what we shall see.

Aunt Carole: As it turned out, the two masters agreed that neither Nancy nor Henry would be sold, so the couple was allowed to marry. Within the year, Henry and Nancy’s first baby was born.

And then, not even 12 months from the time he made his solemn promise never to sell Nancy, Mr. Lee sold her to Mr. Joseph Colquitt, a tradesman in Richmond, to become a servant for his wife. Not only was Mr. Colquitt a very mean fellow, but his wife made Nancy’s life miserable with her cruel, cutting remarks.

Mrs. Colquitt: Nancy, stop fussing with that fire, will you please? You’ve been shuffling those logs for a full minute.

Nancy: Yes, ma’am. The fire’s going good now.

Mrs. Colquitt: Yes, well, go tell the cook I want chicken stew for supper. Hurry up about it now.

Nancy: Yes, ma’am, right away. My little one, we must be off to the kitchen for our mistress.

Mrs. Colquitt: Pretty fancy talk for a slave, much too hoity-toity, I’d say. Besides, it’s always something with that baby of yours. Maybe if I’m lucky, it’ll catch something and die, and then I can get some attention around here.

Aunt Carole: Time passed with Nancy forever taking the daily abuse handed out by Mrs. Colquitt. During this time, several more children were born to Nancy and Henry, and still they both worked on for their masters.

Finally, Mr. Colquitt took very ill and was not expected to survive. Surprisingly, it was Henry he called to his bedside.

Mr. Colquitt: Henry, you’re a man of God. Please pray that the Lord will spare my life.

Henry Brown: Yes, sir. All right.

Mr. Colquitt: And when you’re done, go and tell my slaves to pray for me as well.

Aunt Carole: Almost miraculously, Mr. Colquitt survived, and thanks to the constant encouragement from his slaves, many of whom had prayed for his healing, he finally recovered. In spite of this, Mrs. Colquitt’s nasty disposition continued.

Mrs. Colquitt: So you think your slaves did you a fine service by praying for your recovery? Ha! They were probably secretly praying for something quite different, if they were praying at all.

Mr. Colquitt: But they have been a great help.

Mrs. Colquitt: Help? Ha! They’re only trying to soften you up. Besides, what kind of man are you to even ask such a thing? God, if there even is a God, would never listen to slaves.

Mr. Colquitt: So what makes you think I asked them to pray for me anyway? And if any of them did, then I’ll have them punished!

Aunt Carole: And so, Mr. Colquitt made a list of every slave that prayed for him and had the lot of them whipped. Henry escaped only because he belonged to William and not Mr. Colquitt.

Sometime after this, a man by the name of Mr. Cottrell came to Henry, telling him that he wished to buy Nancy as a servant for his wife, but that he didn’t have quite enough money for the purchase.

Mr. Cottrell: So you see, if you have 50 dollars to spare, and if you would give that to me, then I could buy her and she would have an easier life.

Henry Brown: But how do I know that if I give you this money, you won’t turn right around and sell her again?

Mr. Cottrell: Now, do you really think I could have the heart to sell your wife to anybody but you? I promise you, I could never, never do that.

Aunt Carole: So Henry gave Mr. Cottrell the 50 dollars, and that very day, Mr. Cottrell told Henry that he had purchased his wife and his children as well. Hardly did Henry have time to draw a breath when Mr. Cottrell added...

Mr. Cottrell: Of course, even though they’re my slaves, you’ll be expected to provide a house for your wife and children and supply them with all their needs.

Henry Brown: What?

Mr. Cottrell: Plus, I’ll expect you to pay me 50 dollars a year.

Henry Brown: But how can I...

Mr. Cottrell: Well, if you can’t, I’ll just sell your wife as soon as I can find a buyer.

Uncle Jon: We’ll get back to our story in just a moment, but first...

Aunt Nikki: Yes, Uncle Jon?

Uncle Jon: Well, Aunt Nikki, I have a hunch that everyone out there in our audience likes to hear about stories, share stories, listen to stories, or read about them.

Aunt Nikki: I’m sure you’re absolutely right. Stories of all kinds: stories about kids, adventures, exciting moments in history, animals, miracles—the works.

Uncle Jon: Yes. And I know just where they can find fun new stories every single month.

Aunt Nikki: I thought you might. All you have to do is go to our website at yourstoryhour.org. That’s yourstoryhour.org. Click on the Kids’ Corner in the menu and then click on Clubhouse.

Uncle Jon: And when you do, all the latest issues of Clubhouse will pop into view. You just click on the issue you want to read and voila! There you go. The whole magazine will open up and you can have fun reading stories.

Aunt Nikki: And working puzzles and reading jokes and solving riddles.

Uncle Jon: And getting occasional craft and recipe suggestions as well. Anyway, you get the idea. Of course, it’s all free, and there are other fun things to do and read on the website too.

Uncle Jon: Our address again is yourstoryhour.org. That’s yourstoryhour.org. So why not give it a try today? And now it’s time to get back to Aunt Carole so we can all find out what happens next in today’s story called *The Escape of Henry Box Brown*.

Aunt Carole: Henry could hardly believe his ears. Mr. Cottrell had completely changed, betraying all that was honest and decent. Fortunately, Henry had a friend, a freeman named James, to whom he appealed for help, and James rented a house in his own name for Henry’s family.

For some time afterward, Henry scraped together every penny from what he was allowed to keep from his earnings to pay his friend rent for the house and to pay Mr. Cottrell the 50 dollars per year.

But at least Henry now felt that he, his wife, and his four children could finally live in relative security, even if the arrangements were completely unfair. Then one morning, Mr. Cottrell appeared at Henry’s home, confronting Henry and Nancy with another demand.

Mr. Cottrell: I need some money today, Henry, and I’m depending on you to give it to me.

Henry Brown: But, Mr. Cottrell, you know we don’t have any extra money.

Mr. Cottrell: Listen to me. I want money, and money I will have, one way or the other.

Nancy: What does he mean? Money I will have. Henry, what if he sells one of our children?

Aunt Carole: That day, as Henry left for work, he tenderly embraced and kissed his wife and children, not knowing if he would ever see any of them again.

Henry Brown: What if they are sold while I’m gone? Sent to the slave block, lost forever. No, no. I must believe that all will yet be well.

Aunt Carole: Sadly, however, his worst fears were realized. He had been at work only a few hours when he was informed that his wife and children had been dragged off and sold to a man from North Carolina. The black heart of Mr. Cottrell had reached its final betrayal.

Henry Brown: Oh God, how can I endure such agony?

Aunt Carole: Henry went to his own Master to beg him to buy his wife and children back, but to no avail. The next morning, as the purchased group of several hundred slaves was marched out of town, Henry stood along the roadside to catch the last glimpse of his family.

Soon a wagonload of children rolled by, and Henry’s oldest boy stretched forth his arms, pitifully crying out...

Henry's Son: Father! Father! Help! Help us!

Aunt Carole: Oh, what heartache. A father, helpless, unable to respond to the cry of his own child. And then he saw Nancy, chained in the long line being marched by.

Their eyes met, and then Nancy bravely pulled to the side near to Henry. Their hands clasped, and beyond words in heart-rending despair, they walked together wordlessly for four miles until at last they were pulled apart. The final look of love was exchanged, and Nancy, his dear wife of 12 years, was gone.

Henry Brown: Only in heaven will I see her dear, dear face again.

Aunt Carole: Over the next few months, Henry moved as within a fog. But one thing became more and more clear: he could bear the chains of slavery no longer. Somehow, some way, he must break free, and he prayed to God Almighty to help him.

Henry Brown: Oh God, please. Please help me find a path to freedom. Please show me how to... wait. Wait, I see it, Lord. I see it!

Aunt Carole: Suddenly, an idea had flashed across Henry’s mind, and he lost no time in following through. He went to see a friend, Dr. Smith, a true Christian man who was connected with the Underground Railroad. Henry’s idea of escape, however, was something completely unique.

Henry Brown: The idea came to me while I was praying, Dr. Smith.

Dr. Smith: Oh?

Henry Brown: To have a box built, just big enough for me to climb inside, and to have myself shipped north to a free state.

Dr. Smith: Shipped in a box? Yes, but what if you can’t breathe? What if the box gets banged around or lost? You could die before...

Henry Brown: I’d rather die trying, Dr. Smith, than to remain a slave.

Dr. Smith: I see. Well then, I’ll help you. But you’ll need a sturdy box and some place to ship it from, like a store. It would be logical for a store to ship such a large box as the one you’ll need.

Henry Brown: I know a carpenter who could build a box for me, and I know a storekeeper who might be willing to help.

Dr. Smith: Well then, let’s see what we can do.

Henry Brown: This box looks perfect, my friend.

Carpenter: It will be a tight fit, Henry. It’s a little over three feet long, two and a half feet high, and two feet wide.

Henry Brown: Let me try it. I’ll just climb inside. Yes, I can just make it. Knees bent. If this works, I’m changing my name from Henry Brown to Henry Box Brown.

Carpenter: Well, Henry Box Brown, I’m going to drill three tiny air holes just here, opposite where your face will be. And my friend, yes, Godspeed. I wish you well.

Storekeeper: All right, Henry. The carpenter has delivered your box here to my store, and I just heard back from a friend of mine in Philadelphia. He says we can address the box to him. He’ll come to get it as soon as it’s unloaded, and I’ll travel along with you to make sure all goes well.

Henry Brown: Dr. Smith, I need permission to be off work. I have an injured finger, but when I showed it to the overseer, he told me it wasn’t bad enough for sick leave. So I was thinking, if you could get some oil of vitriol for me, I could put it on my finger to make it worse.

Dr. Smith: Sulfuric acid? But that will eat right into your flesh!

Henry Brown: Can you think of any other way? Unless I have a serious injury, I can’t get sick leave. And without that, I’ll be missed too soon at work. They’ll come looking for me.

Aunt Carole: Henry did put the acid on his finger—actually, a bit too much—but it did win him a leave of absence from work. On the morning of March 29, 1849, at four in the morning, Henry, Dr. Smith, and the storekeeper met at the store to get the box ready for the express train.

Henry crawled inside, taking a container of water with him for drinking and perhaps for wetting his face if he got too hot, and a small tool to bore extra holes in case he needed more air. And then the box was nailed shut.

Dr. Smith: Henry, are you all right in there?

Henry Brown: All right, Dr. Smith.

Dr. Smith: We’re ready then. First, we’ll get you to the express office. Hopefully, everyone will take note of the "with care" notice on the box, along with the arrow and the directions for "this side up."

Aunt Carole: Once the box arrived at the express office, an employee turned it upside down, much to Henry’s discomfort, while something was nailed to the end of the box. It was then put on a wagon, still upside down, taken to the depot, and toppled onto its side on the floor of a baggage car.

Unfortunately, the storekeeper who had promised to accompany Henry’s box didn’t follow through, which meant Henry’s fate was at the mercy of the handlers along the way.

The next stop was at Potomac Creek, where Henry’s box was put aboard a steamer. Once again, Henry found himself upside down on his head. He could hear the other passengers nearby and dared not make a noise. But after more than an hour and a half in this position, he was in serious trouble.

Henry Brown: Oh Lord, please, please help me. I’m dying in here. My eyes feel like they’re going to explode.

Passenger 1: I sure wish there was a place to sit down out here on this deck.

Henry Brown: That must be one of the passengers.

Passenger 2: We’ve been standing for almost two hours now, but I don’t see any deck chairs anywhere.

Passenger 1: How about this box? Let me tumble it onto its side. There!

Henry Brown: Thank you, Lord. Thank you.

Passenger 2: Now we can at least sit down. I wonder what’s in here.

Passenger 1: I don’t know. It’s heavy for sure. Maybe it’s full of mail.

Henry Brown: There’s mail in here all right, just not the kind he’s thinking about.

Aunt Carole: Once Henry’s box reached Washington, DC, it was taken from the steamer, placed on a wagon, and taken to another train depot where Henry was once again slammed into a head-down position. He heard his neck snap and he passed out for a few minutes.

When he came to, he heard someone suggest that they wait until tomorrow to send the big wooden box on its way. But finally, noting that it had been sent express, they loaded it on the train bound for Philadelphia.

Fortunately, this time Henry landed on his side. And at length, when the train stopped after he had been in the box for 27 hours, Henry heard someone say the sweet words...

Guest (Male): Here we are, arrived in Philadelphia!

Henry Brown: Oh, thank you, Lord. Thank you. Now please send the man to pick me up.

Aunt Carole: Thankfully, the friend of the shopkeeper to whom the box had been sent arrived sometime later and transported the box to his house. Henry could hear a number of people gathering around, but not knowing exactly what was happening, he made not a sound. And then...

Guest (Male): Do you think he’s all right?

Guest (Male): I haven’t heard even the slightest movement.

Guest (Male): Maybe he’s dead.

Guest (Male): Maybe we can knock on the box and see if he is alive. Here goes. Hello! Is all right within?

Henry Brown: Yes, all is right!

Guest (Male): He’s alive! Quick, hand me the crowbar. The poor fellow! He’s trying to stand. Get some water! He’s been shut up inside that box for hours! It must have felt like a coffin. He’s beginning to come around. He’s trying to sit up. Praise God, he’s going to be all right! Here, my dear man, have a drink.

Henry Brown: Thank you. I waited patiently for the Lord, and He inclined unto me and heard my cry. He brought me up also out of a horrible pit, out of a miry clay, and set my feet upon a rock. He hath put a new song in my mouth. He hath put a new song in my mouth. The Lord be praised. The Lord be praised.

Aunt Nikki: What an amazing story, Uncle Jon.

Uncle Jon: Shipped to freedom!

Aunt Nikki: Yes, and just imagine. He actually sang once he got out of that awful box.

Uncle Jon: That he did, Aunt Nikki. He sang praises to God from the 40th Psalm.

Aunt Nikki: I know. Then later on, Henry toured both here in America and in England to tell the story of what slavery was really like.

Uncle Jon: Well, I think his story has given us all a little better picture of how courageously the slaves met their fate. And we should also thank God and honor the brave soldiers, both white and black, who fought and died in the Civil War to help end this awful period in America’s history.

Aunt Nikki: Very, very true. And now, unfortunately...

Uncle Jon: Yes, I know. Our time is up, except...

Aunt Nikki: Except to remind our adult listeners that this program is made possible through the courtesy of this station and the donations of those who would like to see Your Story Hour continue to bring good, wholesome stories to kids around the world.

Uncle Jon: So if you’d like to help, you can donate online at yourstoryhour.org. That’s yourstoryhour.org.

Aunt Nikki: Or you can send your contributions to Your Story Hour, PO Box 8, Niles, Michigan, 49120. That’s PO Box 8, Niles, N-I-L-E-S, Michigan, 49120.

Uncle Jon: And now, sadly, it’s time to go, but we’ll see you next time right here. Don’t forget!

Aunt Nikki: See you then, everyone!