XXXIII. A Home Found.

My greatest anxiety now was to obtain employment. My health was greatly

improved, though my limbs continued to trouble me with swelling

whenever I walked much. The greatest difficulty in my way was, that

those who employed strangers required a recommendation; and in my

peculiar position, I could, of course, obtain no certificates from the

families I had so faithfully served.

One day an acquaintance told me of a lady who wanted a nurse for her

babe, and I immediately applied for the situation. The lady told me

she preferred to have one who had been a mother, and accustomed to

the care of infants. I told her I had nursed two babes of my own. She

asked me many questions, but, to my great relief, did not require a

recommendation from my former employers. She told me she was an English

woman, and that was a pleasant circumstance to me, because I had heard

they had less prejudice against color than Americans entertained. It

was agreed that we should try each other for a week. The trial proved

satisfactory to both parties, and I was engaged for a month.

The heavenly Father had been most merciful to me in leading me to this

place. Mrs. Bruce was a kind and gentle lady, and proved a true and

sympathizing friend. Before the stipulated month expired, the necessity

of passing up and down stairs frequently, caused my limbs to swell so

painfully, that I became unable to perform my duties. Many ladies would

have thoughtlessly discharged me; but Mrs. Bruce made arrangements to

save me steps, and employed a physician to attend upon me. I had not

yet told her that I was a fugitive slave. She noticed that I was often

sad, and kindly inquired the cause. I spoke of being separated from my

children, and from relatives who were dear to me; but I did not mention

the constant feeling of insecurity which oppressed my spirits. I longed

for some one to confide in; but I had been so deceived by white people,

that I had lost all confidence in them. If they spoke kind words to me,

I thought it was for some selfish purpose. I had entered this family

with the distrustful feelings I had brought with me out of slavery;

but ere six months had passed, I found that the gentle deportment of

Mrs. Bruce and the smiles of her lovely babe were thawing my chilled

heart. My narrow mind also began to expand under the influences of her

intelligent conversation, and the opportunities for reading, which were

gladly allowed me whenever I had leisure from my duties. I gradually

became more energetic and more cheerful.

The old feeling of insecurity, especially with regard to my children,

often threw its dark shadow across my sunshine. Mrs. Bruce offered me

a home for Ellen; but pleasant as it would have been, I did not dare

to accept it, for fear of offending the Hobbs family. Their knowledge

of my precarious situation placed me in their power; and I felt that

it was important for me to keep on the right side of them, till, by

dint of labor and economy, I could make a home for my children. I

was far from feeling satisfied with Ellen’s situation. She was not

well cared for. She sometimes came to New York to visit me; but she

generally brought a request from Mrs. Hobbs that I would buy her a

pair of shoes, or some article of clothing. This was accompanied by a

promise of payment when Mr. Hobbs’s salary at the Custom House became

due; but some how or other the pay-day never came. Thus many dollars

of my earnings were expended to keep my child comfortably clothed.

That, however, was a slight trouble, compared with the fear that their

pecuniary embarrassments might induce them to sell my precious young

daughter. I knew they were in constant communication with Southerners,

and had frequent opportunities to do it. I have stated that when Dr.

Flint put Ellen in jail, at two years old, she had an inflammation

of the eyes, occasioned by measles. This disease still troubled her;

and kind Mrs. Bruce proposed that she should come to New York for a

while, to be under the care of Dr. Elliott, a well known oculist. It

did not occur to me that there was any thing improper in a mother’s

making such a request; but Mrs. Hobbs was very angry, and refused to

let her go. Situated as I was, it was not politic to insist upon it. I

made no complaint, but I longed to be entirely free to act a mother’s

part towards my children. The next time I went over to Brooklyn, Mrs.

Hobbs, as if to apologize for her anger, told me she had employed her

own physician to attend to Ellen’s eyes, and that she had refused my

request because she did not consider it safe to trust her in New York.

I accepted the explanation in silence; but she had told me that my

child _belonged_ to her daughter, and I suspected that her real motive

was a fear of my conveying her property away from her. Perhaps I did

her injustice; but my knowledge of Southerners made it difficult for me

to feel otherwise.

Sweet and bitter were mixed in the cup of my life, and I was thankful

that it had ceased to be entirely bitter. I loved Mrs. Bruce’s babe.

When it laughed and crowed in my face, and twined its little tender

arms confidingly about my neck, it made me think of the time when

Benny and Ellen were babies, and my wounded heart was soothed. One

bright morning, as I stood at the window, tossing baby in my arms,

my attention was attracted by a young man in sailor’s dress, who was

closely observing every house as he passed. I looked at him earnestly.

Could it be my brother William? It _must_ be he—and yet, how changed!

I placed the baby safely, flew down stairs, opened the front door,

beckoned to the sailor, and in less than a minute I was clasped in my

brother’s arms. How much we had to tell each other! How we laughed, and

how we cried, over each other’s adventures! I took him to Brooklyn, and

again saw him with Ellen, the dear child whom he had loved and tended

so carefully, while I was shut up in my miserable den. He staid in New

York a week. His old feelings of affection for me and Ellen were as

lively as ever. There are no bonds so strong as those which are formed

by suffering together.

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