me purchase my own freedom.  But this enraged him more than all the rest:  he cursed and swore at me dreadfully, and said he would never sell my freedom—­if I wished to be free, I was free in England, and I might go and try what freedom would do for me, and be d——­d.  My heart was very sore with this treatment, but I had to go on.  I continued to do my work, and did all I could to give satisfaction, but all would not do.

Shortly after, the cook left them, and then matters went on ten times worse.  I always washed the child’s clothes without being commanded to do it, and any thing else that was wanted in the family; though still I was very sick—­very sick indeed.  When the great washing came round, which was every two months, my mistress got together again a great many heavy things, such as bed-ticks, bed-coverlets, &c. for me to wash.  I told her I was too ill to wash such heavy things that day.  She said, she supposed I thought myself a free woman, but I was not; and if I did not do it directly I should be instantly turned out of doors.  I stood a long time before I could answer, for I did not know well what to do.  I knew that I was free in England, but I did not know where to go, or how to get my living; and therefore, I did not like to leave the house.  But Mr. Wood said he would send for a constable to thrust me out; and at last I took courage and resolved that I would not be longer thus treated, but would go and trust to Providence.  This was the fourth time they had threatened turn me out, and, go where I might, I was determined now to take them at their word; though I thought it very hard, after I had lived with them for thirteen years, and worked for them like a horse, to be driven out in this way, like a beggar.  My only fault was being sick, and therefore unable to please my mistress, who thought she never could get work enough out of her slaves; and I told them so:  but they only abused me and drove me out.  This took place from two to three months, I think, after we came to England.

When I came away, I went to the man (one Mash) who used to black the shoes of the family, and asked his wife to get somebody to go with me to Hatton Garden to the Moravian Missionaries:  these were the only persons I knew in England.  The woman sent a young girl with me to the mission house, and I saw there a gentleman called Mr. Moore.  I told him my whole story, and how my owners had treated me, and asked him to take in my trunk with what few clothes I had.  The missionaries were very kind to me—­they were sorry for my destitute situation, and gave me leave to bring my things to be placed under their care.  They were very good people, and they told me to come to the church.