though she loved her home, her mistress, and the baby too, yet she was
finally convinced that though born a slave, it was not the intention of
Providence, but a mistake, and that she had been miraculously led to this
Western Holy Land, of which Boston is the Jerusalem, as the means by which
things could be set to rights again.

One beautiful, bright evening, when her mistress had rode out to see the
State House by moonlight, Susan kissed the baby, not without many tears,
and then threw herself, trembling and dismayed, into the arms and tender
mercies of the Abolitionists. They led her into a distant part of the city,
and placed her for the night under the charge of some people who made their
living by receiving the newly ransomed. The next morning she was to go off,
but she found she had reckoned without her host, for when she thanked the
good people for her night's lodging and the hashed cod-fish on which she
had tried to breakfast, she had a bill to pay, and where was the money?
Poor Susan! she had only a quarter of a dollar, and that she had asked her
mistress for a week before, to buy a pair of side-combs.

"Why, what a fool you be," said one of the men; "Didn't I tell you to bring
your mistress' purse along?"

"And did you think I was going to steal besides running off from her and
the poor baby?" answered Susan.

"It's not stealing," said the Abolitionist. "Haven't you been a slaving of
yourself all your life for her, and I guess you've a right to be paid for
it. I guess you think the rags on your back good wages enough?"

Susan looked at her neat dress, and thought they were very nice rags,
compared to the clothes her landlady had on; but the Abolitionist was in a