My master and mistress went on one occasion into the country, to Date Hill, for change of air, and carried me with them to take charge of the children, and to do the work of the house.  While I was in the country, I saw how the field negroes are worked in Antigua.  They are worked very hard and fed but scantily.  They are called out to work before daybreak, and come home after dark; and then each has to heave his bundle of grass for the cattle in the pen.  Then, on Sunday morning, each slave has to go out and gather a large bundle of grass; and, when they bring it home, they have all to sit at the manager’s door and wait till he come out:  often have they to wait there till past eleven o’clock, without any breakfast.  After that, those that have yams or potatoes, or fire-wood to sell, hasten to market to buy a dog’s worth[10] of salt fish, or pork, which is a great treat for them.  Some of them buy a little pickle out of the shad barrels, which they call sauce, to season their yams and Indian corn.  It is very wrong, I know, to work on Sunday or go to market; but will not God call the Buckra men to answer for this on the great day of judgment—­since they will give the slaves no other day?

[Footnote 10:  A dog is the 72nd part of a dollar.]

While we were at Date Hill Christmas came; and the slave woman who had the care of the place (which then belonged to Mr. Roberts the marshal), asked me to go with her to her husband’s house, to a Methodist meeting for prayer, at a plantation called Winthorps.  I went; and they were the first prayers I ever understood.  One woman prayed; and then they all sung a hymn; then there was another prayer and another hymn; and then they all spoke by turns of their own griefs as sinners.  The husband of the woman I went with was a black driver.  His name was Henry.  He confessed that he had treated the slaves very cruelly; but said that he was compelled to obey the orders of his master.  He prayed them all to forgive him, and he prayed that God would forgive him.  He said it was a horrid thing for a ranger[11] to have sometimes to beat his own wife or sister; but he must do so if ordered by his master.

[Footnote 11:  The head negro of an estate—­a person who has the chief superintendence under the manager.]

I felt sorry for my sins also.  I cried the whole night, but I was too much ashamed to speak.  I prayed God to forgive me.  This meeting had a great impression on my mind, and led my spirit to the Moravian church; so that when I got back to town, I went and prayed to have my name put down in the Missionaries’ book; and I followed the church earnestly every opportunity.  I did not then tell my mistress about it; for I knew that she would not give me leave to go.  But I felt I must go.  Whenever I carried the children their lunch at school, I ran round and went to hear the teachers.