Gatewood, was a regular member of the same church to which I belonged.
He then had me taken to a blacksmith's shop, and most wickedly had my limbs bound with heavy irons, and then had my body locked within the cold dungeon walls of the Bedford jail, to be sold to a Southern slave trader.
My heart was filled with grief--my eyes were filled with tears.

I could see no way of escape.

I could hear no voice of consolation.
Slaveholders were coming to the dungeon window in great numbers to ask me questions.

Some were rejoicing--some swearing, and others saying that I ought to be hung; while others were in favor of sending both me and my wife to New Orleans.

They supposed that I had informed her all about the facilities for slaves to escape to Canada, and that she would tell other slaves after I was gone; hence we must all be sent off to where we could neither escape ourselves, nor instruct others the way.
In the afternoon of the same day Malinda was permitted to visit the prison wherein I was locked, but was not permitted to enter the door.
When she looked through the dungeon grates and saw my sad situation, which was caused by my repeated adventures to rescue her and my little daughter from the grasp of slavery, it was more than she could bear without bursting in tears.