When I landed, I inquired of a boy whether there was any boat that
run to the State of Boston. I was so ignorant I knew not whether
Boston was a State or city. In fact, I scarcely knew there was such a
place. Slavery is as ill adapted for obtaining this kind of knowledge
as all other kinds. He informed me the boat went to Providence, and
showed me the way to the boat. I purchased a bosom and dickey, went on
board of the boat, and stowed myself away among the bales of cotton,
where I remained until we were a considerable distance from New York.
I then felt like a FREE MAN, and walked the deck with the rest of
the passengers. I had but little money, and wanted to save it; so I
inquired of the engineer if I could work my passage to Providence. He
said “Yes,” and set me to work. I worked out the first watch of the
night, and he then told me I might go to sleep. I laid down on the
cotton. The man came round and demanded my ticket. I told him I had
none, that I had been working half of the night. Said he, “That I know
nothing about. You must go to the office and settle your fare.” He said
the fare was $3, and he could give me no ticket. I thought hard of it,
but it was of no use to have any further conversation.
I got to Providence on Sunday morning. My money was all gone. There I
was, without friends, victuals or money. I inquired of a man if there
was such a place as Boston, and how far it was. He said 40 miles. I
started, and took the rail road. I walked all day Sunday, and about
nine o’clock came to a farmer’s house. I knocked at the door; a lady
came, and inquired what I wanted. I asked her if she would please give
me something to eat, for I was very hungry. She invited me in; she
went to the pump, got a cup of water, and gave me a crust of brown
bread, from which the inside had been taken. As she gave it to me in
the name of a disciple, she shall receive a disciple’s reward. By this
time, the old gentleman came in. “How do you do, my man?” said he.
“How do you do, sir?” said I. He inquired of me where I was from, when
I left, and where I was going; and I gave him the information. After
sitting awhile, he inquired if I would like to lie down. I told him I
was very tired, and he took me to the barn and gave me liberty to rest
there for the night. I said nothing, but went in. I was afraid of him;
for he had on a blue frock, and, never having seen any one with such a
frock on, I supposed he was a Turk. About 3 o’clock next morning I got
up and started for Boston, being afraid to stay there any longer.
I reached Boston at noon on Monday, and inquired for my brothers; but
nobody knew anything about them. Finally, I met with a colored lady
by the name of Sarah Taylor, the wife of John R. Taylor. I asked her
if she knew any thing about my brothers. She said a George Black had
passed through Boston, and lived in Portland. She said, “Come home with
me, for I perceive you have been a slave.” I went and boarded with her
for $3 a week. I got a gentleman to write to Portland to Mr. George
Black, the man I thought was my brother. He supposed I was one of his
brothers, he having three brothers in the West Indies. He invited me
to come to Portland, and offered to pay my fare. I was very ragged and
dirty. Mrs. Taylor wrapped me up in Mr. Taylor’s cloak, and sent me to
Portland. Mr. Black sent down his man to the steamboat to get my trunk;
but instead of having a trunk, I had scarcely any clothes to my back.
When I saw Mr. Black, and found he was not my brother, I was very sad;
and he was disappointed. He said he knew nothing of my brothers--had
never seen them. He talked with me much about slavery, and I unfolded
to him my history, and that of others. Mr. Black was very kind to me,
indeed, and did all in his power to render me happy. Mrs. Black, his
wife, was more than a mother to me, and the whole family were very
kind to me. I married Mr. Black’s daughter. I could not go to church
the first Sunday after my arrival, for I was ragged and dirty. The
following week, Mrs. Black and her daughter made me some clothes. I
had been there but a short time when Mr. Black sent me to school. I
went to school that winter, and learned very fast. Mr. Black charged me
nothing for my board that winter. When near spring, Mr. Black sent me
up to Bridgetown, 34 miles from Portland, to live with Major Purley, a
farmer. Mr. Purley gave me $10 a month, and was anxious for me to go
to school; but I told him no. I owed Mr. Black, and wanted to get some
clothes, and could not spare the time.
At length George Ropes wrote me from Portland, to come and live with
him. I went there, and boarded with Mr. Black. I was engineer for Mr.
Ropes in the steam factory, and lived with him one season; and when the
Rev. Mr. Black removed to Boston to be settled over the Belknap-street
Church, I accompanied him. The reason why I removed to Boston with Mr.
Black, was because I had fallen in love with his daughter. I trust
this reason will be deemed ample by all those who have experienced
the tender workings of this mysterious passion. Only a few months
after my return to Boston, I married Mr. Black’s daughter, though
young and poor; and I am still poor. I had four children, one of whom
is deceased. I lived at service in Boston. Sometimes I worked on the
wharves. But I was in an unsettled state, being under the impression
that I should preach the Gospel. I firstly derived these impressions
in Boston, and they have not left me. I was baptized before I left
Portland, by the Rev. Mr. Burroughs, who is now in his grave. I joined
the Belknap street Church while Mr. Black was pastor. I lived there
five years: then I found Boston was not the place for me, for its
vanities and maxims were not suited to my disposition. I prepared to
live in the country, for I had a desire to be diligent in business,
fervent in spirit, serving the Lord. I began to think of perishing
souls, and the cause of God laid near my heart. I felt that God had a
claim upon me, that I was not my own master; but I struggled against
these impressions, for I was inadequate, unlearned and unprepared. I
could say as said Jeremiah, “Behold, I cannot speak, for I am a child;
but the Lord said unto me, Say not thou art a child, for thou shalt go
to all to whom I shall send thee, and whatever I command thee, thou
shalt do;” Jer. i:6-7. And I said as Moses did, “I am slow of speech
and of a slow tongue;” Exod. iv:10. My call was now unto the sons of
men. The time had arrived for me to leave Boston.