One morning I climbed up into the cherry tree that grew between Mr.
Kimball's yard and the yard of his next-door neighbor, Mr. Roberts. I
was thinking of the South, and as I picked the cherries, I sang a
Southern song. Mr. Roberts heard me, and gave me a dollar for the
song.

By agreement, Mrs. Kimball was to give me three dollars and a half a
week, instead of four, until the difference amounted to my fare from
the South; after that, I was to have four dollars. I had, however,
received but little money. In the fall, after the family came home, we
had a little difficulty about my wages, and I left and came into
Boston. One of my Macon acquaintances had come North before me, and
now had a position as cook in a house on Columbus Avenue. I looked
this girl up. Then I went to a lodging-house for colored people on
Kendall Street, and spent one night there. Mrs. Kimball had refused to
give me a recommendation, because she wanted me to stay with her, and
thought the lack of a recommendation would be an inducement. In the
lodging-house I made acquaintance with a colored girl, who took me to
an intelligence office. The man at the desk said he would give me a
card to take to 24 Springfield Street, on receipt of fifty cents. I
had never heard of an office of this kind, and asked a good many
questions. After being assured that my money would be returned in case
I did not accept the situation, I paid the fifty cents and started to
find the address on the card. Being ignorant of the scheme of street
numbering, I inquired of a woman whom I met, where No. 24 was. This
woman asked me if I was looking for work, and when I told her I was,
she said a friend of hers on Springfield Street wanted a servant
immediately. Of course I went with this lady, and after a conference
with the mistress of the house as to my ability, when I could begin
work, what wages I should want, etc., I was engaged as cook at three