Before leaving this good Quaker friend, he inquired what my name was besides William.  I told him that I had no other name.  “Well,” said he, “thee must have another name.  Since thee has got out of slavery, thee has become a man, and men always have two names.”

I told him that he was the first man to extend the hand of friendship to me, and I would give him the privilege of naming me.

“If I name thee,” said he, “I shall call thee Wells Brown, after myself.”

“But,” said I, “I am not willing to lose my name of William.  As it was taken from me once against my will, I am not willing to part with it again upon any terms.”

“Then,” said he, “I will call thee William Wells Brown.”

“So be it,” said I; and I have been known by that name ever since I left the house of my first white friend, Wells Brown.

After giving me some little change, I again started for Canada.  In four days I reached a public house, and went in to warm myself.  I there learned that some fugitive slaves had just passed through the place.  The men in the bar-room were talking about it, and I thought that it must have been myself they referred to, and I was therefore afraid to start, fearing they would seize me; but I finally mustered courage enough, and took my leave.  As soon as I was out of sight, I went into the woods, and remained there until night, when I again regained the road, and travelled on until the next day.

Not having had any food for nearly two days, I was faint with hunger, and was in a dilemma what to do, as the little cash supplied me by my adopted father, and which had contributed to my comfort, was now all gone.  I however concluded to go to a farm-house, and ask for something to eat.  On approaching the door of the first one presenting itself, I knocked, and was soon met by a man who asked me what I wanted.  I told him that I would like something to eat.  He asked where I was from, and where I was going.  I replied that I had come some way, and was going to Cleaveland.

After hesitating a moment or two, he told me that he could give me nothing to eat, adding, “that if I would work, I could get something to eat.”

I felt bad, being thus refused something to sustain nature, but did not dare tell him that I was a slave.

Just as I was leaving the door, with a heavy heart, a woman, who proved to be the wife of this gentleman, came to the door, and asked her husband what I wanted?  He did not seem inclined to inform her.  She therefore asked me herself.  I told her that I had asked for something to eat.  After a few other questions, she told me to come in, and that she would give me something to eat.

I walked up to the door, but the husband remained in the passage, as if unwilling to let me enter.

She asked him two or three times to get out of the way, and let me in.  But as he did not move, she pushed him on one side, bidding me walk in!  I was never before so glad to see a woman push a man aside!  Ever since that act, I have been in favor of “woman’s rights!”