to stand up in corners and cry, you are come here to work.”  She then put a child into my arms, and, tired as I was, I was forced instantly to take up my old occupation of a nurse.—­I could not bear to look at my mistress, her countenance was so stern.  She was a stout tall woman with a very dark complexion, and her brows were always drawn together into a frown.  I thought of the words of the two slave women when I saw Mrs. I——­, and heard the harsh sound of her voice.

The person I took the most notice of that night was a French Black called Hetty, whom my master took in privateering from another vessel, and made his slave.  She was the most active woman I ever saw, and she was tasked to her utmost.  A few minutes after my arrival she came in from milking the cows, and put the sweet-potatoes on for supper.  She then fetched home the sheep, and penned them in the fold; drove home the cattle, and staked them about the pond side;[4] fed and rubbed down my master’s horse, and gave the hog and the fed cow[5] their suppers; prepared the beds, and undressed the children, and laid them to sleep.  I liked to look at her and watch all her doings, for hers was the only friendly face I had as yet seen, and I felt glad that she was there.  She gave me my supper of potatoes and milk, and a blanket to sleep upon, which she spread for me in the passage before the door of Mrs. I——­’s chamber.

[Footnote 4:  The cattle on a small plantation in Bermuda are, it seems, often thus staked or tethered, both night and day, in situations where grass abounds.]

[Footnote 5:  A cow fed for slaughter.]

I got a sad fright, that night.  I was just going to sleep, when I heard a noise in my mistress’s room; and she presently called out to inquire if some work was finished that she had ordered Hetty to do.  “No, Ma’am, not yet,” was Hetty’s answer from below.  On hearing this, my master started up from his bed, and just as he was, in his shirt, ran down stairs with a long cow-skin[6] in his hand.  I heard immediately after, the cracking of the thong, and the house rang to the shrieks of poor Hetty, who kept crying out, “Oh, Massa!  Massa! me dead.  Massa! have mercy upon me—­don’t kill me outright.”—­This was a sad beginning for me.  I sat up upon my blanket, trembling with terror, like a frightened hound, and thinking that my turn would come next.  At length the house became still, and I forgot for a little while all my sorrows by falling fast asleep.

[Footnote 6:  A thong of hard twisted hide, known by this name in the West Indies.]

The next morning my mistress set about instructing me in my tasks.  She taught me to do all sorts of household work; to wash and bake, pick cotton and wool, and wash floors, and cook.  And she taught me (how can I ever forget it!) more things than these; she caused me to know the exact difference between the smart of the rope, the cart-whip, and the cow-skin, when applied to my naked body by her own cruel hand.  And there was scarcely any punishment more dreadful than the blows I received on my face and head from her hard heavy fist.  She was a fearful woman, and a savage mistress to her slaves.