A 971,040 ºr "ºº" " -- ºf --- B V E N A † G ſº tº riº § --~~~~ §2. As sº R = Hº D. M. E. N. !ºf ".% %; ///ī/. A R T E S S C T E N T I A V E R ITA S ‘NIºvo s, wº Aavº ºtro Nn ſaeº. SEVEN YEARS Among the Freedmen. ſº. M. VVATE R BU RY. T.B. Alt NOLD, . . . . . . . CHICAGO, ILL.: 1890. DEDICATION, To my Associate Teacners in K-leaven and on Earth, to the Sunday Schools that have Melped me in my \X/ork Among the Freedmen, and to the Y. M. C. A. of Scotland, Which supplied me With Books this volume is dedicated by the author, M. WATERBURY. Copyright, 1890, by Maria Waterbury. S. oº - ONE OF THE THREE TEACHERS. - Above is a picture of a teacher, a graduate of one of the colleges of Michigan. She used to say the freedmen work was her hus- band and children. She has just passed to her reward in heaven. The following lines are affectionately inscribed to her by the au- thor of this book, her associate teacher for two years: Gone to Canaan, entered in, Finished all the teaching years, Freed from every snare and sin; Finished all the prayers and tears, We on this side Jordan's shore Sword, and shield, and helmet on, See thy friendly face no more. Gone to Canaan, for the crown. No more talks about our Lord All her toils on earth are done, No more searchings of his word, Through the cross the victory won. No more longings for his grace, She the golden streets hath trod, She hath seen him face to face. Gone to Canaan, gone to God. CHA P T E R I. JOURNEYING. “In perils by mine own countrymen.”—2 Cor. xi. 26. The instructions of the missionary society, are, “go south about eight hundred miles, until you find the plantation school waiting for you.” The last week of November two of us start from near Chicago. Our Saratoga trunks are heavy with books. Our friends in the northern churches, have sent us with many prayers and blessings, and our gray-haired pastor has given us letters of introduc- tion to churches at the South, wherever we may find a home. We are to teach our first Freedmen’s school, on a plantation, twenty-five miles from a rail- road. From Cairo, Illinois, we go down the Mis- sissippi, and across to Paducah, Kentucky. The marks of the bomb-shelling the town received in waſ time, are still visible. The houses are unpainted, gloomy-looking habitations, some of them with ball holes in them. - 9 Io SEVEN Y EARS AMONG THE FREEDMEN. From the large steamer we have crossed the, river in, we ascend the bluffs, and take the cars on the M. & O. railroad. All day we have been trav- eling with a party of southern ladies, who have been north to attend a wedding; one of them walks with crutches. We have been through the train in Illi- nois, distributing tracts, and the sweet-faced lady on crutches, says to us: “Oh! you have tracts. Yes, I’ll take some tracts, and I’ll join your company too. I’m a preacher’s wife, and I do that kind of work some- times.” “Indeed! Do you work among black and white both P” g “Yes; I tell 'em they’re all bound for the same place. The grave’ll soon hold us all.” Directly one of the southern ladies, two or three seats distant, says in a loud voice, “You’ll soon see some nigger teachers. My husband says they all wear spectacles, and read newspapers.” t We laugh in our sleeves to think the high-toned southrons sought our society, and don’t dream they are traveling with hated nigger teachers; but we say nothing. Arriving at Jackson, Tennessee, the lame lady, and all but one of the others, change cars for New Orleans. - The lady now left alone, draws a little nearer to us, and we adjust ourselves to continue our journey. “Tickets! tickets!” says the conductor, and takes our government passes, which show we are traveling under protection of the government. He looks at JOURNEYING. I I them, and at us, and with an “all right,” passes on. As a thunder cloud quickly gathers blackness some- times, so the face of our southern traveling compan- ion grows darker and more gloomy, until with a sudden jerk, she bounds to her feet, and handing her small baggage to a brakeman near, says, “Show me out of this car,” and we lose our company. Nearing Corinth, a southern woman, who has seen the performances of the day, comes down the aisle of the car, and with a scornful look, points out of the window towards the soldiers’ cemetery, ex- claiming, “Yon’s where the Yanks is buried, about ten thousand of 'em. Yon’s the flag a flyin' over 'em, an’ yon was the battle of Shiloh, about twelve miles away. Yon’s the road they made to bring 'em on, when they buried 'em.” Seating herself for a few minutes, she waits until the train stops, and many of the passengers go out to lunch, then begins walking up and down the aisle of the car, and in a tragic manner says, half crying, “My son was killed ! I can’t stand it yet, when I think of it. Oh / if Z only had 'em Z'd make a finish of em /* Seeing one of the teachers in tears, she says, “Maybe you uns lost some too?” “Yes,” is the reply; “starved to death!” “My God!” says the woman; “that's worse than mine.” After that, we have one sympathizer on the train. - We reach the end of our railroad ride at mid- night, and find at the shed-like depot only a white man with a lantern, and a dozen half-grown colored boys dressed in cotton sacks and cast-off clothes of 12 SEVEN YEARS AMong THE FREEDMEN. union soldiers. The man with the lantern repre- sents the only hotel in the place, and we follow him on foot, less than half a mile, to the hotel kept by two women, both widows. They give us the best room, and light a fire in the fire-place for us, which smokes and goes out. The night air has chilled us through, and the hostess kindly comes in to see if she can improve things. She puffs away at the pipe she has in her mouth, but the fire does nothing but smoke. The hotel is full of boarders, and among them, the livery stable keeper, who is to send us twenty-five miles into the country. He re- quires pay in advance, and we give him twelve dol- lars and a half, and retire; but not to sleep much as * the bed is preoccupied by vermin. Breakfast con- sists of corn bread, bacon, and sweet potatoes, and ere long we are loading up for our ride. For a driv- er we have a one-legged ex-confederate soldier, of the poor white class. Our conveyance is a cart with two wheels. A pair of mules and two splint-bot- tomed chairs complete our outfit. Wedged in, so that every inch of room is occupied with our chairs and trunks, we wonder where the driver will sit; but he swings up on a trunk, and hangs his one leg down, very near the mules’ tails. With all the boarders in the house standing on the veranda, and the two widows smoking their pipes, with their heads out of the windows, we start. Did ever mules snail like those? It was fully twelve o'clock, ere we had gone six miles, then our driver stopped his team, and demanded of us how much we paid the stable keeper for “totin' us, over JOURNEYING. I3 thar”; drawling out, “I’ll be darned, if ye all don’ tell me, I’ll go plum back this minute.” Of course we tell him, twelve dollars. “Wall now ef he ain’t took twelve dollar from ye, an here he don’t guv me mor’n five. I’m gwine back”; and he turned his mules toward our place of starting in the morning, all the while darning every- thing and everybody. At length after many persuasions on our part, and promise of more pay, he turned again, and be- gan the journey. To divert his mind from his bar- gain, we inquired the cause of his having but one leg. “Lost it in the war, ma’arm; an' wuz took a . prizener tu, an’ carried outer a gun-boat! Been all up thar, tu de norf; seen all dat country, an’ loikes it tu; been tu Chicagur, an’ couldn’t a” been treated better by my own brudder; had fresh bread every day, an’ a good bed, an’ preachin in camp o' Sun- days, an’ dem people used us like we had allers bin thar neighburs.” & In the midst of a muddy ravine just here, down went the cart, and the trunks being too heavy for it, the bottom fell out; trunks, chairs, and all began to sink, down, down, until we were fast in the mud, and for once the driver forgot to grumble. One of the wagon wheels was broken, and all the one-leg- ged driver could do was to hold fast to the mules Soon one of the teachers said to the other, “I feel sure help is coming ! Don’t you believe it?” “I believe you say so,” said the other teacher. She had hardly uttered the words, when a stout col- I4. SEVEN YEARS AMONG THE FREEDMEN. ored man made his appearance, but was going past us without stopping. “Help us now yer,” said the driver; and the Boston teacher began pulling bright covered books out of her traveling bag, saying, “You shall have a book if you help us out with the trunks.” All of us lifting together, we, with some difficulty, placed the trunks on the ground. Was it a special providence that at that moment sent a man with a stout pair of mules and a big wagon towards us, just as our one-legged driver with his broken cart was driving off to leave us in the pine woods alone, and night coming on ? -- This time we rode in what at the West is called a prairie-schooner. The driver was a poor white, who earned his living by “doin’ haulin’,” as he called it. He could only tote us a few miles he said, but knew of a Mr. Maybee, a man who kept entertain- ment for man and beast, and after much grumbling about having to go plum out of the way he meant to go, and after promise of large pay, he took us three miles farther on our journey, we talking of the country, of the war, of the crops, and of the great question, “What must I do to be saved?” “Did you never think you owed any service to God?” said one of the teachers to him, by way of beginning the con- versation. - “Wall, no ma'arm. Neow ef I ever'd tho't I owed God anything I’d be darned, I’d pay it,” was the reply. The depth of this man’s ignorance was dreadful! No Bible, no idea of his Maker, not much more than one of his mules. There are many thousands of these JOURNEYING. 15 poor whites, at the South. In a white school of our acquaintance, one of them undertook to send a child to the school, but the child never had any notice ta- ken of it by the teacher, who was employed to teach upper-ten whites. The white people of the country never associate with poor whites any more than with colored people. Snailing along in the rain, we arrive at Mr. Maybee's, but his wife is sick, his house is being re- built, and he can’t keep us, but refers us to the Arm- strong sisters, a mile away, where we can surely find a place for the night; and he helps us persuade the driver to take us there. The ladies are relatives of the planter who has sent for us to teach his ex-slaves. They have heard of the proposed school, and proceed to ventilate their opinions of it and us, freely. “You are ladies, and before I'd teach a nigger school, I’d beg my bread from door to door. No you can’t come into our house, and Mr. Maybee is a black-hearted wretch to send you here! Nigger teachers, indeed! As though we would disgrace ourselves having them in our house!” These ladies were not uneducated, or low, but were of the highest class in the South. We respect- ed their prejudices, but were amazed at their hatred. After some more conversation, leveled at us from the windows, out of which they stuck their heads to talk, they consented to let the driver set our trunks inside their yard, and informed us Colonel Jedson lived a mile farther on, and he would doubtless keep us all night. Once more we started, this time on foot, to I6 sEven YEARS AMONG THE FREEDMEN. complete our day's journey, in the rain, and very near night-fall. Soon we were joined by a young colored woman who lived on the Jedson plantation, and we felt in good company, and “happy on the way.” At the colonel’s gate the colored woman gave a loud call, as is the custom South, as some one must ward off the dogs, before it is safe to enter any yard. Very soon the gentleman of the house makes his appearance, coming out to the gate to meet us; and it seems, after our weary day, we are to see what southern hospitality is. - “Walk in ladies and deposit your bundles,” says the ex-rebel colonel, “and I will see that you are cared for.” We are shown into the best room of the house, the first plastered wall we have seen in the state, as many of the houses are ceiled in the style of a hun- dred years ago. Exit Colonel Jedson, and a colored girl comes in, bearing two glasses of water on a server. We had heard of this beautiful custom at the South, of receiving strangers, and we drink and begin to rest. The colonel’s little son and two serv- ants, bring each a log of wood for the fire, on their shoulders, lay them down in the fire-place, and march out with a military step, all in line. Next comes a colored woman, bringing fire, and “fat-pine” kindlings, and soon the colonel comes in to see that : fire started. In half an hour, the lady, Mrs. Jedson, comes in with a long gossamer veil floating from the back of her head, reaching nearly to her knees, and spends half an hour entertaining us. After her JOURNEYING. 17 exit, comes the grown daughter of the family to sit with her embroidery, and, by small talk, make it pleasant för the strangers. The fragrant fat pine from the fire, the blaze of which flickers out upon the whitewashed wall, the restful-looking great couch in the corner, the white sanded floor, and easy splint-bottomed chairs, and the whole fam- ily vying with each other to entertain us, we begin to think after all, the South is a part of our grand country, and we are near of kin to these Christian people. A few weeks afterwards, we met the daughter, who treated us so handsomely at home, in church, and at the close of service, we attempt to speak to her, and inquire after her father's family, and she in- stantly and abruptly turns her back upon us, ignoring our presence. Wanted.—A new dictionary to ex- plain southern prejudice. “It’s Gog and Magog, yet ma'am, for quite a while I reckon,” says a northern person, who has spent several years South. Morning, and breakfast over, the colonel would take us the remaining six miles of our journey; but this plantation, where once lived two hundred slaves, and much stock, now has only one mule and one or tWO COWS. “Only one mule, ma'am,” says the colonel, “and we are using that in the cotton-gin, every day.” A walk of a mile back to the Armstrong sisters, to know what has become of our trunks, and see if we can find another mule. Half way on our walk stands a mule with a saddle on it, tied to a gate. We accost 18. SEVEN YEARS AMONG THE FREEDMEN. the stranger who owns it, tell him our situation, and ask if the mule can be hired for the drive. He is a neighbor of the colonel’s, and consents to ride up to his house, and soon we are off for the place of our year's work. The colonel has a Yankee market- w wagon. He drives for us, and Mrs. Jedson accom- panies us part of the way, to visit her brother who is very ill. * Arriving at the plantation, we find a store, a shop or two, a white school, and an immense build- ing, used in slave times for a white boys’ school. We are to have living rooms in the upper story of the large building, and school rooms in the lower. A col- ored woman is employed as cook for us; and at our first Sunday-school, the next morning, over a hun- dred black people, men and women, join in singing . so grandly, that it brings tears to our eyes to hear the wonderful pathos of their music. The white planter believes the school will please the blacks, and be a means of helping him keep the better class of them to do his work. At the first Sunday-school, he brings his newspaper, and sits in the chapel near us to hear our instruction. They tell us he is a class- leader, and we ask him to open the school with prayer. He peers at us over his spectacles and says, “That’s your business, ma'am,” and we two teachers go on with the school, giving oral instruction, as not ten of the hundred before us can read. In the afternoon we go to the first colored meet- ing we have ever attended. Five ministers are in the pulpit. The church building is far inferior to the barns at home. A young preacher, very black, JOURNEY ING. I9 reads from Revelation vi., of “an angel with a pair of banisters in his hand.” The ignorant sermon is done, and the praying ! oh! that is enough to pay us for our journey of eight hundred miles, mule rides, poor whites, and all. We are lifted on those prayers heavenward, and the songs reach to the depths of our souls. As the benediction is pronounced, the only white man in the large audience, wearing lem- on-colored kid gloves, rises and says he has heard of a school to be opened for the people, that he has thought of teaching a school himself, and will begin in the morning. The young preacher of the day, says, “We has got our teachers here, from de norf, with much trouble, an” de good book says, ef we put our hand to de plow, an’ look back, we aint fit fur de king- dom. An’ we is goin’ tu stick tu our teachers.” But the war against us has begun, and we are threatened with many things. “The building will be burnt I fear,” says the planter. “You all can come to my house for awhile.” In the upper story of the plantation house, we are guarded by freedmen, not daring to begin our school. Here we pass the Christmas holidays, cared for by the planter's family, and guarded at night by colored people, who built great bonfires, and we hear them in their night watches, talking, and some- times singing. They are paying dear for their first attempt at starting a school. On Christmas morning before breakfast, a colored woman, bearing two glasses of egg-nog, comes up stairs, saying, “Mrs. S. sends her compliments, and wishes you a merry 2O SEVEN YEARS AMONG THE FREED MEN. Christmas.” We thank her and say, “Tell the lady we never drink anything of the kind.” The astonished girl goes down, and again re- turns, saying, “The missus wants to know if you will take some wine.” We tell her we never drank a glass in our lives, and ask her to excuse us, saying, “Our church at home has the temperance pledge, as a part of the creed.” We pass the day writing, and towards evening, go down to chat a little with the family. The planter rises and begins telling us we needn’t fear, as he has his gun loaded, and dogs ready, and if there is any fuss, he can soon stop it. We notice his gun standing in the corner of the room, and soon he be- gins to stagger towards it, so drunk he nearly falls down. Alas! this is our protection! We hope it is better with the freedmen, but find many of them too, have been drinking. The planter has a wine cellar, and to cheer them up in their trouble, has taken one or two favorite ex-slaves into 1t, and dealt out liquors to them, and they have given to others, until many on the place are drunk. We retire to our room, realizing that our “weap- ons are not carnal.” Before the holidays are over, we see children drunk, for the first time in our lives. In a week we begin school, and immediately start a temperance society. Before the five months of school are closed, there are over a hundred members to our Band of Hope, and over thirty are hopefully converted. “Peter was of doubting mind, About the work he came to do. . JOURNEYING. 2 I Simon Peter, go your way, And never mind what the world’ll say. Hold out, your troubles will be over. Hold out, your troubles will be over. FIold out, your troubles will be over. * Hope I'll jine the band.” C H A P T E R II. KU-KI,UIX AND PRAYER. A large brick house with a lovely garden in the rear, walks bordered with box, fig trees with green and ripe figs on them, tall pines down the walk, lovely roses, and climbing vines—one of the homes of aristocracy in slave times. The planter who lived here owned several hundred slaves. Now a family from the North reside here, and we two “nigger teachers” board with them. The family have been visiting twenty miles away for a day or two, and we teachers are keeping house for them, with a colored family of six persons living in the kitchens, three rods in the rear of the house, and doing all the work for us. We are in charge of two colored schools a mile away. We have heard of the Ku-Klux being on their night raids of late, and this morning as the clock struck two, we heard a low whistle outside the gate, and Miss C and the writer woke the same moment, each saying to the other, “Did you hear 22 , KU-KILUX AND PRAYER. 23 * that?” We struck a light, pulled down the shades of the windows, and hastily dressed, but not before we heard the tramp of heavy feet on the porch out- side. Our room opened into another room kept for storage purposes, where was a large box of shelled corn. 'Twas the work of a moment for us to slip a package containing a large sum of money, that had been left by an officer under government, in care of the lady of the house, into the box of corn, and drag our Saratoga trunks against the door. The money was left in our care in the absence of the family, and for a moment we supposed the night riders had found it out; but afterwards learned they knew nothing of it, but were trying to impress upon the teachers, and northern family, the fact that “this is a white man’s government.” ; Tramp, tramp went the feet, first on the north porch, then on the south, and ever and anon a whistle, and we expected them to enter, but God heard our prayers for safety. We sat, one on each side of our little table, with our lamp lighted, and our Bibles in our hands, and read aloud the promises of our God, so mighty to save. “As the mountains are round about Jerusalem, so the Lord is round about his people from hence- forth even forever.”—Psa. cxxv. 2. “If two of you shall agree on earth, as touching any thing that they shall ask, it shall be done for them of my Father which is in heaven.”—Matt. xviii. Ig. - We said, “Lord, we do agree, and we ask that the intruders may not enter this room.” 24 SEven YEARs AMONG THE FREEDMEN. Together we repeated the same prayer, over and over, and soon one of us said, “I have the assurance that they will not enter.” Tramp, tramp went the feet on the porch, and we heard them try the locks of the doors, and whistle to each other, and thus for 'over two hours we watched and waited, and only until the morning began to dawn, did they go to their carriages and ride away. - In the morning we saw the tracks of horses, and of many people. The next night a guard from the town, a mile away, came and staid on the plantation. We afterwards heard there were two wagon loads of Ku-Klux, but they dared not enter to molest us, as they feared we were armed, and so we were, and guarded, too, for “the angel of the Lord encamp- eth round about them that fear him, and delivereth them.” We had only proved God's faithfulness. C H A P T E R III. DOG.S. “This way, ma'am, if you please. You’ll need to get acquainted with the dogs, or it won’t be safe for ye to stay on the place.” At this juncture the old planter went through with the ceremony of introducing the dogs to us, as he called it. A number of Savage-looking hounds were told to put their noses on our dresses, which they did; then told they must guard us, but mustn't hurt us; and we were told to throw them some crumbs of food, and after a pat or two from the planter, they seemed to consider us as belonging to the place. “There’s nine of 'em on the plantation, and it takes more to feed 'em than to bread my family,” said he. “When you come into the yard, throw 'em a few crumbs, and they’ll guard yel” The nine dogs were only a small portion of the dog family we saw, for every family seemed to pride t 25 gº .*.*.* -º %.g --~~~3*** :a::= * sº .***** * ~ * • * 9. ~= ey ...~T - 2 ...-- *** ... --, *- * & & b_--> se---> * & • * * ~ * .e. “ g * * * * * **** 2: * 2- & g cºlº DRess & * i. * •G Cºnfſº). *. *… º $ MILLINERY * % 2. f * * O { ... &OR ºf # s | º | *-*. ** zº !! 5- * !'ºn | #: º ..", # #sº - t %3. 2 * |#% * º g [mal DºI2. |T|m -º- *= • * * * * +/-, ~ * ==aº:::::::::::::::::::#; gº *** * * * ź. * fº * :#E. * ; N_n^\º wº-tºº .6%Ž º • ‘A’s 'zerº --- § z- .N. ºuts 26 DOGS, 27 themselves more on the number of dogs they owned, than on the appearance of the plantation. One of the teachers gave names to the dogs that called daily to get the crumbs from the school yard, and some- times she told us that the lame dog had made its ap- pearance, or the very large dog, or the long-tailed dog, or the spotted hound had come; or the sneaking dog or the fox-tailed dog had left, and the yellow dog and the leanest dog were just coming. Having occasion to visit a dressmaker once, we were beset by a monstrous bull-dog, and as we thought, but just escaped being devoured, when the mistress made her appearance and ordered the dog to “git,” and he went under the house with a bound, and remained there until called out to be introduced to us. “That dog,” said the seamstress, “went through the war with me, and when General Grierson and his staff rode up to the door, I said, “Gentlemen, if you want a decent meal of victuals in my house, you can have it; but if you’ve come to ransack as some of the soldiers do, you can’t do it, for my dog’ll tear at least one of ye in pieces the minute I say the word., The soldiers talked together a little, then rode away. They didn’t know I had nigh onto ten thousand dol- lars worth of silver plate hid in my chamber, that my neighbors had trusted me with, or more’n three thousand dollars in confederate money on my person. My neighbors knew my grit, an’ they knew that dog’d protect me, an’ they felt safer’n though they kept their silver themselves. But I don’t want no II) Ore War. 28 SEVEN YEARS AMONG THE FREEDMEN. “My father and mother was from Germany, and I never had no stuck-up notions about work, so I worked with my needle, and six months before the war broke out, I bought Jane for twelve hundred dollars in gold, I had earned at the end o’ the needle, but now she’s free, an’ I aint a carin’ for that, but thar’s my hard work gone. -I don’t take no stock in slavery now. Jane's the only one I ever owned, and since the surrender, I’ve been to New York every year to get goods, an’ I see the difference ’tween free labor an’ slave labor. An' I tell you, slavery’s what’s been the curse of this country, and we didn’t get to know it, 'til we’d been beat nearly as fine as powder. “I made a rebel flag once, that cost a hundred dollars, all of silk, and the Yanks fought and took it, and I aint carin’ fur that. I see now the leaders in that war was all wrong. They thought we could split off from the north. I tell you, they might as well think of doing without one eye; an' I think it's like provoking Providence to go on hating the North, when nearly everything we wear on our backs, comes from there. “An’ jest let me tell you, when I went into a Yankee kitchen, an’ see the things they used there, it was like a new world to me. I didn’t know the names of half the traps they had to cook with; two story kettles to cook things by steam, and ranges to burn hard coal in, and here we mostly have our fire- places, and a few pot hooks and cranes, such as their great-grandmothers used a hundred years ago. I tell ye slavery’s dun it! An’ that aint all it's dun, DOGS. - 29 neither. - “Here's our young men, all they’re brought up to's to pitch quoits, an’ hunt foxes, an’ ride around fur the nigs tu wait on, an’ they haint been fetched up tu think they ought tu work; and the gals aint a bit better—afraid tu wash and iron fur fear o' low- erin’ their dignity. I tell ye, when God put Adam and Eve in the garden, an’ told 'em to dress it, they had tu work for a livin', and didn’t have nobody to order around neither; and the good book says, “if any would not work, neither should he eat,” and the sooner we git at it the better. “Here's swarms of our girls, good, and kind, and all o' that, but they scarcely know how to git into their close, without some Chloe, or Aunt Lu- cinda to help 'em; an' there up North the women are book-keepers, and telegraphers, and saleswomen, and teachers. Why it jest beats all my 'rithmetic, to see how they get around, and they drive horses for themselves too. Think o’ that! I bet nobody south o’ Mason an’ Dixon's line'd think o’ ridin’ if they couldn’t have a coachman. That’s what’s the mat- ter. “I was born in Georgia, an’. I aint ashamed o' my state nuther; but I tell yozº, afore I went North an’ seen 'em work, I didn’t know much more about it "an a last year's crow’s nest; an’ wen I went onto them western farms, an’ see 'em histin’ nigh onto a ton o’ hay into a great barn that looked like pne o' our meetin' houses, and two men a duin' with the new-fangled machinery, more'n ten niggers would du here, I sez that's workin'. An' books an' 3O SEVEN YEARS AMONG THE FREEDMEN. larnin' helps 'em tu; book larnin' don't make men set up above theyselves by no means; it jes larns 'em how tu du things. - “Well, thinks I, wen I get back, I'll give all a piece o' my mind about work. Jes tu see how contented like them hired men was; an' wen they come into the house, the minute they sot down tu rest, they had a book or a paper, an' wen we sot down tu the table every one on 'em sot down an' eat with the family. An’tu hear 'em talk so kind o' learned like, I jest declar' tu you now, I tho't some on 'em wuz preachers, they had so much larnin’. An’ there they wuz a teachin school in winter, an’ a workin’ on farms in summer, ºn no one tho’t any the less on 'em. An’ now / say let them northerners come on yer, an’ let 'em live among us, the more the better; ’n ef they can’t find no other place to roost, they may mash my bread an’ meat all winter.” The dog had stealthily made his appearance again, and was behind his mistress’ chair, his hair rising like a porcupine airing his quills, and evident- ly going for the school ma'am. “Thar! take that,” said the mistress, giving him a slap with her press board, as she drew it from the sleeve of a dress she was pressing, “an” now come yer, an’ be introduced to the lady.” The dog that had whined away with his tail drooping, turned instantly and obeyed his mistress, putting his nose on our clothing when told to, and wagging his tail, showing signs of pleasure, and said his mistress, “Ye must guard 'em, an’ mustn't bite 'em. D'ye hear? An’ now git,” at which he Dogs. . . . 3 I * } - went under the house with a bound, and we were told to ‘tote a biscuit” for him, when we came into the yard. - By this time, Jane, the former slave, and a fine looking woman she was too, had risen to go. “There, take that,” said the former mistress, giving her a piece of money. “Thankee, ma'am,” said Jane. “Good evenin', miss. Good evenin', ma'am. I's mightily obleeged tu ye.” “That gal,” continued the woman, “is a better . Christian 'an I am. Ef I get sick, "long comes Jane tu see me. I never struck her a lick in my life, though she wuz mighty peart sometimes. No worse 'n I’d be, ef I’d been sold an’ bo’t an’ toted round, her ole man in one place an’ she in another. “Laws! let the by-gones go; but I never did see no religion in goin’ back on the Lord 'cause he made more’n half the people some other color’n white! "Taint half o' this world that’s white, now is it? 'Pears like it’s ahead o' my 'rithmetic. There's the Chinese, they aint white, an’’ there’s heaps o' others, they tell me, sides the Injuns, that’s red, or yaller, or sunthin’; an' I jes don’t see no use o’ fallin’ out with God, cause he didn’t ax us what color he should make people. * “Actions is what duz the bizziness; all else aint wo'th a stuffed 'possum skin. 'Taint all our people, you min’, as is quarrelin’ cause folks aint so white as they is; but there is a set of 'em, women an' gals, an’ men tu, 'taint no wise ’spectin’ tu du much but loll round in good close, an’ read Scott's novels an’ sich, 32 SEVEN YEARS AMONG THE FREEDMEN, An’ I’m sick o’ the hull bizziness.” * With a “good evening,” we left the industrious southern woman pounding her flat-iron on her press- board, vigorously, her niece running her Boston sew- ing machine, with a will, and her monstrous cat asleeep near her, in a basket of cotton seed. .# iii; #ſº ºn. ſ % tº POOR WHITE, CHEWING A DIP-STICK. 33 - . . C H A P T E R IV. DIP-STICKS. “How d'ye, ma'am,” says a bright little girl of eight, with a woolly head, and coal-black skin, and a stick three inches long protruding from her mouth. “I cum by de gum tree dis mornin', to bring you. some dip-sticks—tooth brushes,” says the little Af- rican, handing me a bundle of small sticks. “What did you say they were, and what are you doing with the one in your mouth, child?” - “Dis yer one, ma’am P. Jes chewin’ some snuff, dey giv me up to de big house. Miss Sallie an’ all de white 'uns dips, an’ Massar Jim dun giv me a dime tu buy snuff wid, an’ I dun bought a heap fur Chloe an’ me; hev shore! Don’ dey dip up at de Norf, ma’am P” said the little snuff chewer, aston- ished at the marks of disgust, which by this time amounted to loathing, in the countenance of her northern friend. -: A teacher sitting near by, said, “The child is 34 * DIP-ST I CKS. 35 correct. Miss Sallie and the white ones do chew snaff on the end of such sticks, and so do most of the white southern ladies. I never saw more than two or three who would speak against it. Yesterday I saw Miss Armstrong, who wore an elegant silk dress, made in the height of style, with just such a stick in her mouth, and saw her take out her stick, and snuff- box, and dip the stick into the snuff, and chew, and dip again; and I saw Miss Sallie taking an afternoon nap, with her dip-stick in her mouth.” One end of the stick is chewed until it resem- bles a small brush, then dipped into the snuff, and chewed and dipped with evident satisfaction; and in parlor and in kitchen, in street and in church, I have seen the practice prevail. In fact, like the bow-wow meat of China, it’s the custom of the country. The old geographies used to say the productions of North Carolina were tar, pitch, turpentine, and lum- ber, but if asked what are the productions of the country now, we should say tobacco and whisky, in this part of the country. Miss Armstrong, a member of a Christian church, and a lady high in society, invited us, when we called there, to take a whisky toddy to keep the chills off; and when for the twentieth time we re- fused, and told her the church at home would turn her members out for drinking toddies, and rather than drink toddies we would shake until all our teeth flew out. She was amazed at such radical teetotalism, and still clinging to her ideas of good breeding, says: - “Well, you know where the jug is; it’s there by 36 seven YEARs Among the FREEDMEN. -: V : the side of the molasses jug; help yourself.” Oh! how we wished for some Samson to carry off these barriers of worse than heathenish customs, and deluge this land with temperance; and we make bold to say: “Madam, you are on the crater of a volcano that threatens to engulf you and all your dear ones, with these fumes of toddies. The dip-sticks and all are conjured up from the bottomless pit to ruin you, and”— * “Who pays you for lecturing,” says my south- ern lady friend. “Have a dip-stick?” C H A P T E R V . “OLE MIss.” “If you 'uns’ll get a driver, you can have my carriage and a pair o' mules, to go and visit ole Miss Sumpert. She's sent word to me, to have you all come and see her. She takes mightily to the north- ern people. You'll see the trees with the union soldiers’ names cut on 'em, as you go through the pines. 'Twas Grierson’s raid, ma'am, that wen through these parts, and before I’d see another war they might take niggers an’ white trash, cotton mules, an’ all, ma'am. Them's my sentiments about war! The Yanks wa’nt a bit worse than our men It was all war. If they wanted victuals, they had to have 'em, whether we had anything left or not; and war in a country, means starvation generally, I reckon. - “You all don’t need to talk to me, about free la: bor bein’ the best, though. You ought to been down to the cotton-gin to-day, an’ seen 'em work. Dennis, 37 38 SEVEN YEA R S AMONG THE FREEDMEIN. , and Saul, and Arthur and a few more of 'em, turned off more work to-day, of paid labor, than a whole gang of 'em did, at the end o' the lash a few years ago.” - 'Twas the old planter talking, with his broad- brimmed hat, and homespun clothes on. He had been overseeing the work of paid laborers, who, in- stead of a peck of corn meal a week, and two suits of clothes a year, as in slave times, expected to have their pay at the end of the week; and although not working much himself, was around among his men, and really pleased, to think paid help was better than slave labor. - “Fool! as I have been, and all the rest of us, down here! We’ve been feeding a gang of slaves, an” had 'em to take care of, and doctor when they's sick, and no end to the expense o’ runnin' 'em, and here paid labor is more profitable than all of it. They work better, and I feel better about it, that’s a fact; an’ I’d lie if I didn’t say so. “But here comes Parson. He’ll drive over to the old lady's. It’s nine miles as the crow flies. May be you’ll find some o’ the streams a little rough to cross; but you, all’ll have a good time, an’ ye can take one o’ the hounds along to protect ye. That’s our custom. A dog’s a useful animal down yer.” A corduroy road nearly half the way, built of round logs, lying so close as to touch each other, built by the soldiers in war time. We went bump- ing over it, our mules, and black driver, a young Methodist Episcopal preacher, all in style, though we declined taking the dog. Oh, the road! When “OLE MIss.” 39 we left the corduroy, we found ourselves so deep in mud, we wished we were bumping on it again; and when we were on it, we thought the mud prefer- able. - Soon we saw the names of soldiers, hundreds of them, cut in the bark of trees, five years ago: Company I. New York Volunteers, E. S., Company E. Illinois Cavalry. Some of them had been de- faced, but most of them were cut high up on the trees, and would doubtless stand many years to come. “Dem's de people as fought for we 'uns,” was the interpretation of the black driver. “Dem's Mas- ser Lincum’s men.” : t Arriving at the old lady's, as most of her neigh- bors called her, we found a widow, of about seventy years, living alone, with only her former slaves around her. She too, had found paid labor the best; and so kind was she to her help, that none of them could be hired to leave her. They were so attentive to her, that her wish was their law. Some of them were paid, and still lived in their cabins, as in slave times; others worked a part of her land on shares; all seeming to value “Ole Miss,” and defer to her wishes, as to a mother. Her large plantation house, with its white- washed walls, and wide fire-place, filled with fra- grant pine boughs, was not furnished in great style; but the old-fashioned splint bottomed chairs were comfortable, and we rested. At table we had the usual dish to please northerners, viz. fried chicken, with its accompaniment of sweet potatoes and corn bread; behind our chairs, as is the invariable custom 4O SEVEN YEARS AMONG THE FREED MEN. South, a waiter standing, ready to pass our glasses of milk, or help us to anything on the table. “I tell my people,” said our hostess, “now they’re free, and they can go if they want to, and work for themselves; but every one of them “stick by,’ and it’pears like they can’t spare me, and / can’t spare them.” Ah! here was the secret of holding them by love. “Ole Miss” was to every one of them as a mother, and the outcropping of this too scarce arti- cle, in this world, didn’t stop with me and mizze. After we had dined, and were sitting on the verandá, she continued: “There is the smoke-house I hid a sick Yankee soldier in, for six months, until he got well enough to go up North after the surrender, and I took care o’ the southern soldiers, too.” Noble woman! The prince of peace had found too deep a lodging place in that soul, to be affected by war; and wherever she saw a fellow creature, she saw some one to bless and benefit. “Every wise woman buildeth her house,” said one of the teachers on our homeward ride. “Yes; but do you think these former slave-holders would succeed as well in governing by love as she? They might try it; perhaps it wouldn’t fill their coffers so fast, but the woman has the ‘true riches,” with her soul full of love to every-body. She's rich anyway.” “Dat’s jes so,” chimed in the young colored preacher. C H., A P T E R V I. AUNT PEGGY. “How d'ye, ma'am! I cum tree mile dis morn- in’, tu tell ye de Lawd stood by me last night, an” he tell me you all is safe / He aint gwine tu let ye get 'sturbed by de white 'uns, honey. You jes go on teechin’ de skule, an’ de good Massa tote you in his bosom. “I got shoutin’ happy last night, an’my ole man says, “Peggy, what ails ye?' I says, “Ole man, wake up! de Lawd is yer! He done jes filled me, an” he aint gwine tu let dat are skule be broke up.’ Hon- ey, de Lawd jes showed me how he shet de lions: mouths, an' he got ye all in de holler ob his hand; dey can’t touch a hair o' you heads. Hallelujah! Massar Jesus got sumthin’ tu du wid dis skule. You jes go on teechin’, honey. De Lawd dun sent de angels, tu stan’ by ye. He cover ye wid his feathers.” A prayer-meeting—fifty black people—some 4 I p }}ſae§§ -->！ ！！ ！...? :-）. --<{S* --> ！！！！ :（（（（§=- Š،*\，\\ ÈÑŅŇ § * * ¿ša - · * &→→→→ · * （~№\Ă; s（º£žňſae ، ، ،§， -·•.\ ^& § ' .xv،\, ſº ;{\§§§§Ä，}§ 、、