HBPBMWWfcmWWW* "1 LIBRARY I UNIVERSITY or I VcAUFORNU/ r he had lin'ments fur de body. An' de Bible fur de soul." O/' Mist is. Page 112. 'Weh Down Souf and other Poems DANIEL WEBSTER DAVIS Illustrations WILLIAM L. SHEPPARD Cover Design ELIZABETH GEARY THE HELMAN-TAYLOR COMPANY CLEVELAND 1897 LOAN STACK COPYRIGHTED, 1897 THE HELMAN-TAYLOR COMPANY ALL RIGHTS RESERVED Emprrtnl CLEVELAND. To my faithful and affectionate wife this volume is lovingly dedicated by the author. 037 CONTENTS. PAGE 'Weh Down Souf .... 7 Bakin' an' Greens . . .10 Keep Inchin' Along . .12 De Biggis' Piece ub Pie . . 14 Hog Meat . .16 Fishin' Hook an' Worms . . 19 Sense 'Kinley's 'Nogurashun . .22 Why he Saved the Engine . -25 Emancipation . . . 2 7 When de Sun shines Hot . . -34 Fell f rum Grace . . . -37 Christmas Dreams . 4 1 Signs . . '43 The Owl Song ... 46 De Nigger's Got to Go . . .48 The Baby Show . -53 De Linin' ub de Hymns . . -54 Stickin' to de Hoe . . -57 My Childhood's Happy Days . . 60 Exposition Ode . . . 6 5 Skeetin' on de Ice . . 7 2 Contents. PAGE OP Virginny Reel . v . 75 A Rose . V . . 79 Pomp's Case Argued . . .81 When You Gits a Rabbit Foot . . 83 Mat . . . . .85 De Ghana Cup . . . .87 I can Trust . . . 9 1 Old Normal . . . .92 Ginger Snaps and Cider . . .97 I Wonder How This Is . . 101 Miss Liza's Banjer . . .103 Hope . .... 106 De Baptis' Chuch. . . .107 Payin' fur de Hydin . . .no OP Mistis . . . .112 Is dar Wadermilluns on High . .116 Cookin' by de Ol'-Time Fire-Place . 118 Uncle 'Rastus and the Whiskey Question . 120 Night on de OP Plantashun . .122 Aunt Chloe's Lullaby. . . . 125 Good Night . . . .127 Appendix . . .129 Glossary . '*'. . . .134 VI Weh Down Souf. 'WEH DOWN SOUF. O, de birds ar' sweetly singin', 'Weh down Souf, An' de banjer is a-ringin', 'Weh down Souf; An' my heart it is a-sighin', Whil' de moments am a-flyin', Fur my horn' I am a-cryin',' 'Weh down Souf. Dar de pickaninnies 's playin', 'Weh down Souf, An' fur dem I am a-prayin', 'Weh down Souf; An' when I gits sum munny, Yo' kin bet I'm gon', my hunny, Fur de Ian' dat am so sunny, 'Weh down Souf. 7 'Weh Down Souf. Whil' de win' up here's a-blowin', 'Weh down Souf De corn is sweetly growin', 'Weh down Souf. Dey tells me here ub freedum, But I ain't a-gwine to heed um, But I'se gwine fur to lebe urn, Fur 'weh down Souf. I bin up here a-wuckin, From 'weh down Souf, An' I ain't a bin a-shurkin' I'm frum 'weh down Souf; But I'm gittin' mighty werry, An' de days a-gittin' drerry, An' I'm hongry, O, so berry, Fur my horn' down Souf. O, de moon dar shines de brighter, 'Weh down Souf, An' I know my heart is lighter, 'Weh down Souf; 8 'Weh Down Souf. An' de berry thought brings pledjur, I'll be happy dar 'dout medjur, Fur dar I hab my tredjur, 'Weh down Souf. 'Weh Down Souf. BAKIN' AN' GREENS. Yo' may tell me ub pastries an' fine oyster patties, Ub salads an' crowkets an' Boston baked beans; But dar'snuffin' so temptin' to dis gent'mun's palate Ez a big slice ub bakin' an' plenty ub greens. Jes' bile 'um right down, so dey'll melt when yo' eat 'um; Hab a big streak ub fat an' a small streak o' lean. Bar's nufrm' on urf yo' kin fix up to beat 'um, Fur de king ub all dishes am bakin' an' greens. Den tak' sum good cohn meal, an' sif ' it, an' pat it, An' put it in ashes wid nuffin' between; Den blow off de ashes, an' set right down at it, Fur dar's nufrin' lik' ash-cake, wid bakin' an' greens. 'Twill take de ol' mammies to fix 'um up greazy, Wid liker an' dumplin's de bes' you hab seen; 10 'Weh Down Souf. Take all yer fin' eatin's I won't be uneazy, Ef you'll lebe me dat bakin' an' plenty ub greens. Sum folks may lik' tucky, an' sum may lik' chicken, But my heart fills wid joy, an' wid pledjur I beams, When I kum home frum wuck an' a day ub hard pickin's, An' am greeted wid bakin' an' a big dish ub greens. Rich folks in dar kerrige may fro de dus' on me, But how kin I enby dem men ub big means; Dey may hab dispepsy, an' do' dey may scom me, Dey kan't injoy bakin' wid lots ub good greens. You may put me in rags, fill my cup up wid sor- row, Let joy be a stranger, an' trouble my dreams; I still will be smilin', no pain kin I borrow, Ef I still kin git bakin', wid plenty ub greens. } j > Weh Down Souf. KEEP INCHIN' ALONG. Do' de load be mighty hebby An* de road be 'ceedin' ruff, Do' yer lim's be mighty tired An' de paf be dark enuf, You still mus' keep a-singin* To cheer yo' on de road, 4t Fur de lane mus' hab a turnin' " An' lighter grow de load. Keep inchin' along. What do' de load is hebby An' de burden mek yo' sigh, Jes' ben' yer back a little 'Twill be better bime-by; De cloud's a-hangin' hebby Ez yo' journey on de way, But dar's a silber linin' ; You'll see it, too, sum day. Keep inchin' along. 12 'Weh Down Souf. 'Cause when yo' see de sunshine Yo' think erbout de rain, An' when de rain's a-pourin' De sun will shine again. So tiz wid all de troubles Dat dis oP wor? kin gib Do' it rain to-day, to-morrow 'Twill shine ez shorz yo' lib. Keep inchin' along. Bime-by de journey's ober An' heben will hebe in sight, An' fur all de sighs an* moanin's De Lord will mek it right. Fur de road is gittin' shorter, An' lighter gits de song, An' yo' mos' kin hear de angels Ez dey sings a welkum horn*. Keep inchin' along. 'Weh Down Souf. DE BIGGIS' PIECE UB PIE. When I wuz a little boy, I set me down to cry, Bekaze my little brudder Had de biggis' piece ub pie. But when I had become a man I made my min' to try An' hustle roun' to git myself De biggis' piece ub pie. An', like in bygone chil'ish days, De worl' is hustlin' roun' To git darselbes de biggis' slice Ub honor an' renown; An' ef I fails to do my bes', But stan' aroun' an' cry, Dis ol' worl' will git away Wid bof de plat' an' pie. An' eben should I git a slice, I mus' not cease to try, 14 'Weh Down Souf. But keep a-movin' fas^ ez life, To hoi' my piece ub pie. Dis ruff ol' worl' has little use Fur dem dat chance to fall, An' while youze gittin' up agin' 'Twill take de plat' an' all. Yet, ef I fin' my fellow man Don' miss his piece ub pie, An' dis hard world is standin' roun' To kick him ef he cry, An' do' my poshun may be small, I'll ack jes' like er man, An' gib to him a piece ub min', To help him ef I can. Fur when tiz mine to go alone To de happy horn' ub love, I kin not take de smallis' piece To dat bright Ian' above; An' when I reach de gol'en gate, In de glory Ian' on high, I'll not be axed how much I had, But how I used my pie. 'Weh Down Souf. HOG MEAT. Deze eatin' folks may tell me ub de gloriz ub spring lam', An' de toofsumnis ub tucky et wid cel'ry an' wid jam; Ub beef-st'ak fried wid unyuns, an* sezoned up so fin' But yo' jes' kin gimme hog-meat, an' I'm happy all de tim'. When de fros' is on de pun'kin an' de sno'-flakes in de ar', I den begin rejoicin' hog-killin' time is near; An' de vizhuns ub de fucher den fill my nightly dreams, Fur de time is fas' a-comin' fur de 'lishus pork an' beans. 16 'Weh Down Souf. We folks dat's frum de kuntry may be behin' de sun We don't lik' city eatin's, wid beefsteaks dat ain' don'- 'Dough muttun chops is splendid, an' dem veal cut- lits fin', To me 'tain't like a sphar-rib, or gret big chunk ub chine. Jes' talk to me 'bout hog-meat, ef yo* want to see me pleased, Fur biled wid beans tiz gor'jus, or made in hog- head cheese; An' I could jes' be happy, 'dout money, cloze or house, Wid plenty yurz an' pig feet made in ol'-fashun " souse." I 'fess I'm only humun, I hab my joys an' cares Sum days de clouds hang hebby, sum days de skies ar' fair; But I forgibmy in'miz, my heart is free frum hate, When my bread is filled wid cracklins an' dar's chidlins on my plate. 'Weh Down Souf. 'Dough possum meat is glo'yus wid 'taters in de pan, But put 'longside pork sassage it takes a backward stan'; Ub all yer fancy eatin's, jes gib to me fur min' Sum souse or pork or chidlins, sum sphar-rib, or de chine. 18 'Weh Down Souf. FISHIN' HOOK AN' WORMS. De lubly sky is hangin' wid de clouds ub heb'ny blue, An* de little birds a-wabblin' like dey'd bus* dar froats in two; De gentle kows a-lowin' in the medder 'mong de cohn, While de tree-frog is a-singin' in de fresh an' rosy morn; But ub all de lubly vizhuns dat's floatin' fore my min', De sweetes' is de brook-side, wid fishin' hook an' lin'. When de sun is jes' a-peepin' from its sof ' an' balmy bed, While de dew is on de flowers, an' de shades ub night is fled, 19 'Weh Down Souf. I takes my dinner bucket, when de day is jes' begun, An' I'm gwine off a-fishin' tell de eb'nin' shadders kum; An' 'tain't no use to tell me dat de worP ain't bright an' fhar, While de kat-fish is a-bitin', and de sun shines ebrywhar. De politishuns tell me dat de votin' is de thing To put us into power an' de happiness to bring, But yo' kan't tell me nuffin', 'cause I ain't bin no fool, Sense de days dey had me 'spec tin' forty acres an' a mule. Ef dey wants to hab me votin', dey kin bring me up to terms Ef dey '11 gib me little lezhur an' sum fishin' hooks an' worms. When de sun is shinin' brightly, jes' erbout de time ub noon, An' de flies ar' lazy buzzin' wid a sweet an' lubly chune, 20 'Weh Down Souf. I'se a-settin' dar a-noddin', like a scholar wid his book, While de fishes is a-bitin' all de bait frum off my hook. You may say dat I am lazy, 'cause I ain't no 'risticrat, But I gwine to hab sum pledjur do', in spite ub all er dat. An' when de slantin' shadders tell de swif ap- proach ub night, An' de linnet an' de robin quickly homeward wings dar flight, I gethers up my bucket an' de fishes dat I caught, An' seeks my 'umble cottage ez an hones' fellow ought; So, all de cares an' troubles dat dis oF worl' kin bring I'll bear widout kumplainin', ef I've fishin' in de spring. 21 'Weh Down Souf. SENSE 'KINLEY'S 'NOGURASHUN, I bin votin' mighty long, Thought 'twuz my salvashun Now my hopes don' riz right up, Sense 'Kinley's 'nogurashun. \ Feel so good, I boun' to shout Jes' like all tarnashun, 'Cause we folks don' struck it rich, Sense 'Kinley's 'nogurashun. 'Bin to Wash 'ton, bless yer soul, To see de 'nogurashun, 'Kinley to? me, "Jes' keep still, " Gwine gimme situashun. Silver bugs look'd mighty sick, Standin' roun' de stashun, To see us gent'mun ridin' in To 'Kinley's 'nogurashun. 22 'Weh Down Souf. Gwine to sell my ole gray mule, Rent out my plantashun ; I nebber 'specks to farm no mo', Sense 'Kinley's 'nogurashun. Wheat gwine grow on hen nes' gras 1 - 'Dout no limitashun; Chickens roos' right on de groun', Sense 'Kinley's 'nogurashun. Gold gwine like de goad vine grow We'll git 'siderashun, 'Cause we gwine hab all we want, Sense de 'nogurashun. Whi' folks now mus' set right back, In dis mighty nashun ; 'Kinley sez our time is kum, Sense his 'nogurashun. Wadermilluns gwine grow wild Don't dat beat de nashun ! 'Kinley toP me all dese things, At de 'nogurashun. 23 'Weh Down Souf. Tak' hur, whi' folks, lemme kum by; I wants no botherashun, Fur dis gent'mun's feelin' large, Sense de 'nogurashun. 24 'Weh Down Souf. WHY HE SAVED THE ENGINE. The train was swiftly running, the engineer was late With greatest speed was running to meet an awful fate; Before it was a washout, which threatened death to all, For none could hope for succor from such an awful fall. Uncle 'Rastus saw the danger, and ran to wave it back; And, in spite of rheumastism, went running up the track Wildly waving his bandanna, the moment was sublime, Thank God ! at last they saw him, and stopped the train in time. When they realized the danger from which they had been saved, Strong men wept and women fainted they'd been so near the grave ; 25 'Weh Down Souf. Fair hands seized on those black ones, kind hearts gave tribute due, And Uncle 'Rastus stood there, scarcely knowing what to do. A purse was made up quickly, and praise un- stinted fell; How did he come to do it, they all asked him to tell. ' ' You see, de thing wuz dis way : I kum up to de scratch, I didn't want dat ingine tumblin' in my wadennil- lun patch." 26 'Weh Down Sou EMANCIPATION. Read at the Emancipation Exercises, True Reformers' Hall, January i, 1892. Blest freedom ! 'tis the sweetest strain that fills the human heart; Its blessings doth delight the soul, and sweetest joys impart. The feathered songsters of the grove were mute if caged in gold, And though in rags, the heart that's free finds ecstasy untold. Upon the ocean calm and deep a vessel rides the waves, The freight upon her swelling breast twenty hu- man slaves, Far from their native land to dwell beneath an alien sky, Far from that dear and sunny land where Afric's waters lie. 27 'Weh Down Souf. She landed on Virginia's shore, near where we stand to-day t And gaze upon a lovely group clad all in bright array. Memories strong and deep arise, and quick the tear-drops spring, As we think of what to-day we are, and what we late have been. But yesterday, and dark the clouds that hung above our sky; To-day 'tis past and full of joy; the clouds have drifted by, The day we longed and prayed for sore at last has blessed the sight, And that we come to celebrate who can but say 'tis right? E'en in our slav'ry we can trace the kindly hand of God, That took us from our sunny land and from our native sod, 28 'Weh Down Souf. Where, clad in Nature's simplest garb, man roamed a savage wild, Untamed his passions ; half a man and half a sav- age child. But God, to teach him His dear will, saw fit to bring him where He learned of Him and Jesus Christ those lessons rich and rare. He made the savage into man, tho' moulded by the rod; And Ethiopia has, indeed, stretched forth her hands to God. He was a man and felt as men, his soul with an- guish burned; His heart, too, longed for nobler things, for higher missions yearned; But God still held him to the blast, and still afflicted sore And still he groaned, and still he prayed, yet still his burden bore. 29 'Weh Down Souf. i But, like the cries of Israel old, his prayers ascended high, To reach the great Jehovah's throne, beyond the azure sky; His conq'ring power brought freedom down, and broke the chain, despair, And bade the Negro walk with men, as free as Nature's air. But was he true? Speak, Bunker Hill, and Boston Common, say, Did he defend from British foe on that historic day? While thousands stood with heaving breast, and dared not strike a blow, A Negro's voice cheered on the throng, and bade them charge the foe. His blood was spilled to gain a place in battle's honored roll, And Crispus Attuck nobly stands among the heroes bold; 30 'Weh Down Souf. And if we speak of valiant deeds, and love of coun- try fair, Must not begrudge his well-bought fame, but place a laurel there. To-day is hushed the cannon's roar, and peace reigns everywhere, And blessed freedom makes our land the fairest of the fair. Shall we who helped to make it bloom and blos- som as a rose, Be cast aside, unworthy, our upward course op- posed? We love her and are loyal as the truest of her sons; For her our blood was shed, for her we faced the deadly guns. We'll strive to have her take her place, the first of any land ; Stand ready to defend her soil from ev'ry alien band. 3 1 'Weh Down Souf. But God has freed us, and to Him we bow in praise to-day. He'll never leave us nor forsake, but will protect alway; And, conscious of a heart that's true, with purpose brave and strong, We'll leave our cause in those just Hands that can- not do a wrong. 'Tis the blessing that we celebrate, and not the cause now lost, For that was dear to other hearts as this can be to us. And who were right or who were wrong, we are not here to say, For, still in death, they're heroes all the blue, likewise the gray. And now, the din of battle past, they are our friends the same; Not such as come to get our votes, not friends alone in name, 32 'Weh Down Souf. But friends who deep in honest hearts do wish us greatest joy. God grant this friendship e'er may last and be without alloy. Then let us all with one accord now join the ju- bilee, And praise our God who rules o'er this the new land of the free, And babes unborn in future years will rise to call us great For fixing now, for coming time, " The Day We Celebrate." 33 'Weh Down Souf. WHEN DE SUN SHINES HOT. Yo' may talk erbout de snowflakes, An* de pleasen' winter breeze ; Ub de pledjurs foun' in skeetin', When de ice begins to freeze; Ub de 'joyments ub de winter, Dat yo' think a happy lot But gib to me de summer, When de sun shines hot. Dis shiv'rin' an' a-freezin' Will nebber do fur me, Fur when de win's a-blowin' I'ze miz'ble ez kin be. An 1 jes' erbout November I draws up in er knot, An* don' begin ter straightin' 'Tell de sun shines hot. 34 'Weh Down Souf. But 'long wid frogs an' lizzuds, When de sun kums out, My bones begin er thawin', An' I'm ready fur to shout. Fur de happy thoughts ub summer Makes me feel all right, Fur de wadermillun's kumin' When de sun shines bright. Maybe wuck's gittin' skace, An' de meal bag low; But I nebber feels de trouble Ef it is erbout to go, Fur de good times 's on us, An' I 'joys my lot, 'Cause de wadermillun's kumin' When de sun shines hot. Den lemme 'lone, hunny; Don' 'sturb dis dream, Ez I set here a-dozin', De field's gittin' green, 35 'Weh Down Souf. An' I don' kheer, my hunny, Ef I gits wuck or not, Fur de wadermillun's kumin', When de son shines hot. 'Weh Down Souf. FELL FRUM GRACE. I've bin brung befo' dis meetin', An' de truf I gwine to tell Yes, I took de jedge's chickens, An' sense den my min's a hell. So, my brudders, I pleads guilty, An' I owns up lik' er man Dat is kotched whip doin' murder Wid de blood upon his han's. Gwine to tell a straight tale 'bout it Not a thing I gwine konseal, 'Cause my konshuns don' kondem me; De Lod he knows how bad I feel. Ez I passed Jedge Johnson's manshun, Ez I'd of 'en don' befo', Dar I spied his hin-house open, 'Dout no lock upon de do'. 37 'Weh Down Souf. Brudders, won't y'all own t'wuz temptin'? So I kayed dem chickins off, An' jes' only fur saf keepin', Took an' hid 'urn in de lof. All night long I thought erbout it " Shell I tak' dem chickins back? " But de ve'y nex' day wuz Krismus, Is y'all 'sprised I jumped de track? Forty years bin in good standin', Hoed my ro' in shade an' shine; Nuther saint nor sinner suffud From no low-down ack ub min' . But, ez yuthers don' befo' me, I jis' halted in de race, An' de fus' thing dat I knowed un I had tumbled down frum grace. Do' I makes a full confeshun, Yet I feel I 'zerbs yer raf , But in mussy sphar er sinner Dat hez stumbled frum de paf ; 38 'Weh Down Souf. An' I makes dis 'umble promis' 'Fore de chuch upon my knee, Dat hereafter I shall try to Let my neighbors chickins be. I jes' tol' de jedge erbout it He had of en gin me lif' , What y'all reggin dat he tol' me ? " Tak' dem fur my Krismus gif .' I so glad I couldn't thank him, An' my eyes stretch wid surpris', Den he sed dat I wuz hones' Gin me dollah, too, besiz'. Then up spoke the good old pastor : " Ez de Lord duz always keep Larg' kumpashun fur de strayin', We forgibs dis erin' sheep. Should Gabul serch dis congregashun Fur de chickins dat don' gone, I'm mighty feard we'd all be lackin', So don' let us cast a stone." 39 'Weh Down Souf. Then the chuch burst into singing As they'd never sung before, And the preacher told the sinner : "Go in peace an' sin no mo'." / f o 'Weh Down Souf. CHRISTMAS DREAMS. As I sit to-night I'm dreaming, While the moonlight's brightly beaming And the stars keep watch above me, For my heart is light and free. Now a vision comes before me, And a joy is stealing o'er me, As in dreams I see my stocking Hanging 'neath the mantle tree. Now my mother comes before me, And is lightly bending o'er me Looks to see if I am sleeping, So that Santa Glaus may come. She stoops to kiss me fondly, While things grow dim around me, And I'm far away in dreamland, While she softly leaves the room. In the morning, quickly waking, While my heart with joy is quaking, 'Weh Down Souf. As I wonder if Old Santa Could have coldly passed me by; Oh ! what happy, blissful feeling To my raptured sight revealing, As a world of Santa's goodies Greet my eager, watching eye. Now I wake 'twas only dreaming And the thoughts so blissful seeming Pass away in gloomy shadows, And the world seems dark and cold; Mother's gone from earthly sorrow, In the sweet and bright to-morrow Where, an angel fair, she's watching O'er the lambs of Heaven's fold. In this world there still is grieving I, her child, must be relieving, While the pealing bells of Christmas, Chiming on the evening air, Bring sweet joy to hearts now breaking, Help the downcast and forsaken, Tell the bruised and the bleeding That the world is still so fair. 42 "But when she had to turn erroun' sumptn* she furgtts es a cross-mark on de g roun> turns erroun' an > spits" 'Weh Down Souf. SIGNS. My Sarah Ann don' b'leve in signs, Sense she don' bin to skule; She sez we folks ain't got no sense, An' almos' calls us fools. Wid all de changes she don' made, One thing I know fur sho', She don' bresh all de cobwebs down, But de horseshoe's ober de do'. An ' tother day she start to chuch Wid all her fal-de-rals, 'Long Lucy Ann an' 'Rushy Jeems, An' lots er yuther gals ; But when she had to turn erroun' Fur sumpin' she furgits, She meks a cross-mark on de groun' An' turns erroun' an' spits. 43 'Weh Down Souf. An' when her nose begin to itch Huccum she stays at horn' ? 'Cause dat dar sign don' nebber fail- Somebody gwine ter kum; But t'ain't no use ter tell me, do', Bar's sump'n in de min' Ub ebry true-bon' cullud gal Dat meks her b'leve in signs. I prides myself upon my wuck When I whitewash a fence De man dat won' be satisfied Mus' surt'ny lack fur sense; But when dese sizly-sozly rains Kum fallin' to de groun' An' wash aginst it long ernough, Dat whitewash mus' kum down. So 'tiz wid ebry cullud chip, Do' it may be my own, De skules kin nebber 'raderkate De thing dats in de bon'. 44 'Weh Down Souf. While folks is gittin' smart, ez sho* Ez whitewash made frum lime. I gwine b'leve what de Bible sez Erbout signs ub de times. 45 'Weh Down Souf. THE OWL SONG. (A song of the " Owl Club.") Bird of the night ! to thee, Perched on the forest tree, Our song we raise ; Thy deeds we celebrate, And thy great works narrate, Thy fame we advocate, In notes of praise. The turkey may be sweet, And many birds you meet Are splendid "fowl" Not e'en the eagle bold, Nor birds with plumage gold, Nor song-birds young or old, Can touch thee, Owl ! 46 'Weh Down Souf. And whence comes thy great name, Bird of the noble fame ! Of being wise? 'Tis for thy silent tongue That oft thy praise is sung, And oft thy name is rung Up to the skies. 47 'Weh Down Souf. DE NIGGER'S GOT TO GO. Dear Liza, I is bin down-town To Marster Charley's sto', An' all de talk dis nigger hear Is, " Niggers got to go." I 'fess it bodders my ol' head, An' I would lik' to kno', What all we cullud folks is don', Dat now we'z got to go ? I hear dem say dat long ago To ol' Virginny's sho', Dar kum a ship wid cullud folks, Sum twenty odd or mo' j Dey tells me dat dey hoed de corn, An' wuz good wuckers, sho', Dey made Virginny like de rose But now dey's got to go. 48 'Weh Down Souf. Dat, when oP Ginnel Washin'ton Did whip dem Red-koats so, A nigger wuz de fus' to fall A-fightin' ub de fo' ; Dat, in de late " unpleasunness " Dey watched at marster's do', Proteckin' ub his lubin' ones, But now dey's got to go. I 'fess I lubs dis dear oP plac( 'Twuz here we beried Jo' ; An' little Liza married off, So menny years ago. An' now wez feeble, an' our lim's A-gitting mighty slo'. We'd hate to lebe de dear oP place But den, wez got to go. I don't kno' much 'bout politicks, An' all dem things, yo' kno', But de las' 'leckshun I jes' vote Ez de whi' folks toP me to; 49 'Weh Down Souf. Dey tole me vote fur Dimikrats, An' 'twould be better, 'do' Sense now dey don' de leckshun win, Dey sez we'z got to go. Dey sez de whi' folks mad 'long us, 'Cause we kummin' up, yo' kno'; An' sum un us is gittin' rich, Widdo'-bellsondedo'; An' got sum lawyers, doctors too, An' men like dat, fur sho'. But den it kan't be jes' fur dis Dat we all got to go. De Lord he made dis lubly Ian' Fur white an' black folks too, An' gin each man his roe to ten' Den what we gwine to do ? We 'habes ouselbes an' 'specks de laws, But dey's peckin mo' an' mo*. We ain't don' nuffin 't all to dem, Den huccum we mus' go ? 'Weh Down Souf. Fur ebry nashun on de glob* Dis seems to be a horn' ; Dey welkums dem wid open arms, No matter whar dey frum; But we, who here wuz bred an' borhn, Don't seem to hab no show; We ho'ped to mek it what it is, But still we'z got to go. It 'pears to me, my Liza, dear, We'z got a right to stay, An' not a man on dis broad urf Gwine dribe dis nigger 'way. But why kan't whi' folks lef us Ion', An' weed dar side de ro' ; An' what dey all time talkin' 'bout " De nigger's got to go ? " " 'Rastus," Liza sed, " trus' in God, He'll fix things here belo', He don't hate us bekase we'z black He made us all, yo' kno' ; 'Weh Down Souf. He lubs us, ef we'z cullud folks, Ef de hart is white an' pure, An' 'cepin'de Lord sez, * Forward, march !' We'z not a-gwine to go." 'Weh Down Souf. THE BABY SHOW. Babies large, and babies small, And babies fat and fair; The fond mammas and fond papas Had all the young ones there. " The paper man " just viewed the scene, And decided in a minute ; That the infant with the " kinky- top " Was certainly not " in it." A few, though fat and chubby sprites, With mothers to defend them, Because their colors ' ' ran to dark, ' ' Had nothing to commend them. Perhaps to some this argues ill, And some no doubt are frightened ; But, to my mind, it demonstrates We are simply being enlightened. 53 'Weh Down Souf. DE LININ' UB DE HYMNS. Dar's a mighty row in Zion, an' de debbil's gittin' high, An' de saints don' beat de sinnuz, a-cussin on de sly. What fur it am, you reggin? I'll tell you how it 'gin; 'Twuz 'bout a berry leetle thing de linin' ub a hymn. De young folks say 'tain't stylish to lin' 'um out no mo' ; Dat dey's got edikashun, an' dey wants us all to know Dey likes to hab dar singin' -books a-holin' fore dar eyes, An' sing de hymns right straight along " to man- shuns in de skies." Dat it am awful fogy to give 'um out by lin', An' ef de ol' folks will kumplain 'cause dey is ol' an' blin', 54 'Weh Down Souf. An' slabry's chain don' kep' dem back frum larnin* how to read Dat dey mus' take a corner seat, an' let de young folks lead. We bin 'peatin' 'hine de pastor when he sez dat lubly prayhr, 'Cause sum un us don' kno' it, an' kin not say it squahr ; But now we mus' 'peat wid him, an ef we kan't keep time, De gospil train will drap us off from follin' on behin'. Well, p'raps dey's right, I kin not say; my lims is growin' ol', But I likes to sing de dear ol' hymns, 'tiz music to my soul; An' 'pears to me 'twont do much harm to gin 'um out by line, Dat we ol' folks dat kin not read may foller 'long behin'. 55 'Weh Down Souf. But few ub us am lef ' here now dat bore de slabry chain, We don' edikate our boys an' gals, an' would do de same again; An Zion's all dat's lef us now to cheer us wid its song Dey mought 'low us to sing wid dem, it kin not be fur long. De sarmon's highfalutin', an' de chuch am mighty fin'; We trus' dat God still understand ez in de days ub min', When we, 'do' ignunt, po' an' mean, still wushuped wid de soul, Whil' oft across our peaceful breas' de wabes ub trouble roll. De ol'-time groans an' shouts an' moans am passin' out ub sight Edikashun changed all dat, an' we belebe it right, We should serb God wid 'telligence; fur dis one thing I plead : Jes' lebe a leetle place in chuch fur dem ez kin not read. 56 'Weh Down Souf. STICKIN' TO DE HOE. Bar's mighty things a-gwine on, Sense de days when I wuz young, An' folks don't do ez dey did once, Sense dese new times is kum ; De gais dey dresses pow'fulfin', An' all am fur a sho', But de thing dat I'ze in favor ub Is stickin' to de hoe. Larnin' is a blessed thing, An' good cloze berry fin', But I likes to see de cullud gal Dat's been larnt how to 'ine' ; Gimme de gal to wash an' scrub, An' keep things white an' clean, An' kin den go in de kitchin An' cook de ham an' greens. 57 'Weh Down Souf. I ain't got no edikashun, But dis I kno' am true, Dat raisin' gals too good to wuck Ain't nebber gwine to do; Dese boys dat look good 'mif to eat, But too good to saw de logs, Am kay'n us ez fas' ez smoke, To Ian' us at de dogs. I 'spose dat I'm oP fashun', But God made man to plow, An' git his libbin by de sweat Dat trickles down his brow. While larnin' an' all dem things Am mighty good fur sho', De bes' way we kin make our pints Is stickin' to de hoe. To fill de hed wid lamin' Dat de fingers kan't express, To dis poor ig'nunt brudder Don't seem to be de bes' ; 53 'Weh Down Souf. To git de edikashun An' lam to work ez well, Seems to my 'umble judgment, De thing dat's gwine to tell. 59 'Weh Down Souf. MY CHILDHOOD'S HAPPY DAYS. Many poets great and gifted, whom the Muse's touch has blessed, Have sung in rhythmic measure, at the spirit's high behest, Of the days of childish glory, free from sorrow and from pain, When all was joy and pleasure and wished them back again; But, somehow, when my mind turns back to sing in joyous lays, I remember great discomforts in my childhood's happy days. Why, my earliest recollections are of pains and col- ics sore, With the meanest kinds of medicines the grown folks down would pour 60 'Weh Down Souf. Ipecac and paregoric and though I hard would kick, They still would dose and physic, " 'Cause the baby must be sick. ' ' When I think of this, how can I sing a song in joy- ous lays, And speak in tones of rapture of my childhood's happy days ? Off to school I then was started, and the simple rule of three Was as hard as now quadratics or geometry's to me. And then the awful thrashings with a paddle at the school, And again at home with switches if I broke the simplest rule. Oh ! my life was one vast torment so, of course, I'm bound to praise The time that poets nickname "our childhood's happy days." 61 'Weh Down Souf. On a cold December morning, when lying snug in bed, I heard the sound, " You, Webster i' ' and I wished that I was dead. I knew I had the fires to make, bring water, and cut wood; And then, perhaps, I might have chance to get a bit of food, When on to school I trotted. These were the pleasant ways In which I spent that "festive time," my child- hood's happy days. Father's breeches, cut to fit me, was, of course, the proper thing; And nowhere did they touch me ; my one ' * gallus ' ' was a string; I couldn't tell the front from back part; and my coat of navy blue So variously was mended, it would match the rain- bow's hue. 'Twill do all right for rich white boys to sing these merry lays, But the average little "Jap " fared tough in child- hood's happy days. 62 'Weh Down Souf. I had a place back of my head the comb could never touch I'd jump three feet when tested. At last I cried so much, Mother said that she would cut it. Oh, fate ! to see me then. My head was picked by dull shears, as if some tur- key hen Had gotten in her cruel work; and the boys with jolly ways Hallo 'ed "buzzard!" when they saw me, "in childhood's happy days." In the evening, holding horses, selling papers "Evening News!" To earn an honest penny for the folks at home to use. Yet, of course, I had my pleasures stealing sugar, playing ball, But I can not go in raptures o'er that season, after all. And we repeat our childhood, and all life's sterner ways Are mixed with rain and sunshine, as were child- hood's happy days. 63 'Weh Down Souf. Still I find that life's a " hustle " from the cradle to the tomb, With little beams of sunshine to lighten up the gloom. If we can help a brother, and mix our cares with joys, Old age will be as happy as the days when we were boys, Till at last we sing in rapture heav'nly songs of love and praise, When our bark is safely anchored, there to spend our happiest days. 64 'Weh Down Souf. EXPOSITION ODE. Read at the opening of the Negro Building, Atlanta, Ga., October 2ist, 1895. To-day we come to show the world what God for us hath wrought Here, where but thirty years ago we were as chat- tel bought; He, painting us a darker hue, with hair more deep- ly curled, Has blessed us with both brain and brawn, the conquerors of the world. With grateful hearts we thank the men who gave to us the chance To show the world our progress made, our useful- ness enhance. Yet, 'twas our right, and not a man in justice could oppose, For Negro hands made ' ' Dixie ' ' bloom and blos- som as the rose. 65 'Weh Down Souf. We bring to-day just what we have, from school and shop and farm The products all of Negro brain, the fruit of his own arm. Judged, not by heights that we have reached, but depths from whence we came, There's not a Negro in the land need hang his head in shame. We'll show the North their millions spent have not been spent in vain; We'll show the South skilled laborers, who do not strike for gain; We've left for aye our rude estate, to shape our lives by rule, And banished Reconstruction's dream "forty acres and a mule." Our children here will come and view with pride this great display, And babes unborn will bless us for the page we write to-day; 66 'Weh Down Souf. We'll prove to all the Negro's worth, who here may wish to come, To see what we black men have done to build up this our home. We have a place in " Dixie Land;" our labor built its roads; We cleared its forests, tilled its fields, and bore the heaviest loads ; Our blood was shed in its defense, dispute it ye who will, For Attuck fell at Boston; Peter Salem, Bunker Hill. And in those dark and bloody days, while fierce the battle rolled, As North and South had gathered arms and called each other foes, A soldier brave upon the field, a faithful slave at home, He then disdained to think of shame to loved ones left alone. 67 'Weh Down Souf. But, as a faithful watch-dog stands and guards with jealous eye, He cared for master's wife and child, and at the door would lie, To shed his blood in their defense 'gainst traitors, thieves and knaves, Although these masters went to fight to keep them helpless slaves. What progress made? The answer's here for all who care to know. We are not backward tending; but the best that we can show Are men, who've made us what we are, the lead- ers in the van, Our preachers, teachers, scholars all an honor to the land. A Brown, the prince of financiers ; a Mitchell bold and true, A Fortune, Gains and Washington, all men who dare and do; 68 'Weh Down Souf. A Penn who gives us this display, and women good and fair, We'll scale the heights by others reached, and place our banner there. What tho' we've laggards in the ranks all races have the same We'll opposition overcome, and march to wealth and fame; With solid front for God and right, no en' my need assail, For "right is right as God is God," and justice must prevail. But slav'ry's rude and galling yoke has left on us its stain ; Divisions, petty jealousies and hate oft spoil our aim; And struggling 'neath the damning yoke, we rise and kiss the rod, And with an agonizing cry stretch forth our hands to God. 69 'Weh Down Souf. The South 's our home; 'tis here our eyes beheld life's morning dawn, And here at evening's close we'll rest, our toils and conflicts done. No politicians should divide relationships divine, No arm should sever friendships formed in " Days of Auld Lang Syne. ' ' Here tropic birds their matins sing, and sweet the streamlets flow, And kindly nature gently smiles upon the vale be- low. Shall we who made it what it is by sweat and pain and toil, Be thought to be unworthy of a place upon its soil? Here scented zephyrs fan the cheek, and heavenly music swells, And God's own matchless finger paints the lovely hills and dells; Here scented fragrance fills the air, and bright the flowers smile Shall ev'ry scene delight the view, and only man be vile? 70 'Weh Down Souf. God is not dead, though justice sleeps, and right must conquer might. The South' s our common country, each must strive to do the right; Too long we've looked outside ourselves to seek some guiding star; We'll cease and " let our buckets down in places where we are." With interests one and hopes the same, we'll look like hopeful youth, To see the new sun dawning with its satellites of truth; Disfranchisement, injustice and prejudices gone, We'll both rejoice together at the coming of the dawn. Filled with these expectations now, our hope takes fancy's wing; But not alone as poet, but as prophet may we sing : This scene will help its dawning God grant we view its birth ! For " Dixie Land" is still to us the fairest spot on earth. 'Weh Down Souf. SKEETIN' ON DE ICE. At a little country meeting, in a log house near the road, The saints had duly gathered " fur de wushup ub deLord," When"Bru Levi 'sen' de pulpit," cleared his throat, and then began : " De 'spoundin' ub de scripshur, fur to cheer de speretu'l man." I was teacher in the county, and was in duty bound In attendance on the services, to help the breth- ren 'long. Brother Levi was the pastor, and dispensed the gospel here, As he misunderstood it at twenty-five a year. The day was warm and sultry, sleep was getting in my eyes, When this most unique seimon made them open with surprise : 72 'Weh Down Souf. " My belubbed congregashun, I bin preachin' 'bout de 'possles, An' took my tex' whar Paul poked his 'pissle at de 'Fezhuns. But to-day I gwine to tell yo' 'bout de chillun ub de Lord, How dey crossed de ragin' waters at de spekin' ub de word. I know y'all long bin won'drin' how de chillun crossed de sea; 'Tiz jes' ez plain ez kin be to er 'sper'enced man like me. You see, 'twuz in de winter when de chillun dar wuz led, An' de norf win' wuz a-blowin' strong ernuf to raise de dead. Now, yo' see, de thing wuz easy, an' likewise ber- ry nice, Fur all de chillun had to do wuz to skeet across on ice. 73 'Weh Down Souf. But when ol' Farro kum along wid dem big chayut wheels, De ice jes' broke, an' all er dem fell in head ober heels." This was hard on my intelligence as teacher of the school, And so I rose and said a word, although against the rule : "Beg pardon, brother pastor, but geographies, you know, Say this land is in the tropics, where can be no ice or snow. ' ' " I thanks yo', do' I does not like no 'sturbmence on dis topic; But in dem days 'twon't no gogerfies, so, 'course dar won't no tropics." You can see I was dumbfounded; the brethren said, "Amen," And thus he then concluded, ere I could speak again : "When yo' gwine to cross de water, yo' better tak' advice, An' 'cepin' de Lord is wid yo', don't skeet across 74 Or Lijah wuz de bes' man; he' d cut de pijin-wing An' crack his heels togcdder keepin' time" 'Weh Down Souf. OL' VIRGINNY REEL. Ez I set to-night I'm thinkin' ub de days now pas' an' gon', 'Weh down in ol' Virginny 'mong de cohn; Whar de sweet pertaters growin' an' de wadermil- lun smiles, Fur down de Souf in Dixie I wuz bom. Dat Ian' to me is dearer dan all on urf besiz ; I feel de tear drops down my ol' cheeks steal Ez I think ub al de pledjur in de dear ol' sunny Ian', A-dancin' ub de oP Virginny reel. When de daily toil wuz ober in de quarters we would meet, An' sich anudder scufflin' dar would be To git Miss Susan Johnsing, de Ca'line County belle, To dance de fus' set on de flo' wid me. 75 'Weh Down Souf. We'd " Walk ol' John de Blin' Man," play " Hus- ko, Ladies Turn," Would "Grine de Bottle" or de "Bobkin Steal" But 'twon't no use a-talkin' ; de fun would jes' begin When all would dance de ol' Virginny reel. Ef you nebber seed de moshun, I will tell yo' how it goes; 'Tiz a-bobbin' up an' down, a hop an' jump, An' a-turnin' ebry lady ez yo' kum back down de line, Jes 1 like a bobtail moc'sin roun' de stump. "Miss Liza Jane" is lubly, an' "Balmoral" is fin', An' "Wipe dem Di'mon' Winders " makes you feel; But not " Bounce Aroun' My Sugar Lump," nor "Turnin' Good Ol' Man," Ken 'gin to tetch de oP Virginny reel. 76 'Weh Down Souf. Dar's "Jinny Put de Kittle On," an' "Shoo! MissPijie, Shoo!" An' den " King William Wuz King George's Son," "Blin' Man Buff," an "Gimme Korner;" also "Walk de Lonesum Road," Whar de pint wuz gittin' kisses shorz yo' born; But now dey 'fuse to play dem, an' kissin's out er style, 'Cause now we folks is gittin' mighty high; But den 'twuz free an' in 'cent, 'dout a bit ub harm; 'Twuz better 'n doin' kissin' on de sly. Ol' 'Lijah wuz de bes' man ; he'd cut de pijin-wing, An' crack his heels togedder keepin' time; His teef wuz like de torn' -stones, an' face like pos- sum fat, An' ebry knot wuz stickin' out behin'. De gals wuz dressed in horn 'spun, 'long wid dar brogan shoes, An' ef dar feet would tetch yo', yo' would feel, 'Do' de boys wore bed- tuck breeches, dese trifles wuz forgot, While 'joyin' ub de ol' Virginny reel. 77 'Weh Down Souf. An' somehow ez I think agin lib bygone happy days, 'Do' cares an' sorrows menny wuz our lot, Dis lesson presses on me an' forgib me when I say: Yo' should alway 'joy de blessin's dat yo' got. An' den I sometimes wonder, ez I see y'all hop- pin' roun', Wid waltzes, polkas, dances toe an' heel, Ef you really hab de pledjur, an' ez little ub de sin, Ez we in dancin' ol' Virginny reel. 'Weh Down Souf. A ROSE. This rose of the garden is given to me, And to double its value, 'twas given by thee; Its lovely bright tints to my eyesight is borne, Like the kiss of a fairy or blush of the morn. How sweet is the fragrance that is wafted to me, As the scent of the breeze from the isles of the sea. It tells of the care of that Father above, Who sends us the fragrance to show us His love. Too soon must this scent-laden flower decay, Its bright leaves will wither, its bloom die away; But in mem'ry 'twill linger, the joy that it bore Will live with me still tho' the flower's no more. Fond hopes, too, must perish, its green leaves must die, And sweet expectations all withered must lie ; 79 'Weh Down Souf. But He who has loved us and given His Son, Sets the bow of His promise, and bids us hope on. May our friendship ne'er perish, its strength ne'er decay, But may it grow stronger and stronger each day, And may the All- Father His love o'er us bend, Till life is completed and heaven the end. 80 'Weh Down Souf. POMP'S CASE ARGUED. Pomp stole dem breeches, an' 'lowed 'twon't sin, 'Cause he stole de breeches to be baptized in; But I doubts dat, brudders; le's argify de case, Fur we can't hab de young lams a-fallin' frum grace. Ef er brudder is hongry, an* er chickin on de roos' Sets a- temp tin' ub de saints, why 'twon't no use Fur de callin' ub er council; de case am plain, De chickin wuz de sinner an' dezerbs all de blam'. But breeches is dif'funt, an' stealin's mighty 'rong, 'Cause, yo' see, he moughter borro'd, sense his mem'ry ain' long; An' furgittin' to return 'um, nobody could er say Dat he stole dem breeches, 'tiz clear ez de day. True, his moughter bin busted, an' de seat to'ed out Fur 'tiz kinder strainin', dis leadin' ub de shout; 81 'Weh Down Souf. But, den, he could er patched 'urn, an' wid coat tails long Hab cut a lubly figger 'dout doin' enny 'rong. Maybe prid' wuz de kashun dar de debbil tempts to sin, An' his bed-tick breeches won't good 'nuf fur him; But I moves fur to 'sclude him, 'cause he nebber had to ought, Ef he stole dem breeches, go an' git hisef caught. 82 'Weh Down Souf. WHEN YOU GITS A RABBIT FOOT. Yo' kin always hab a dollah, When yo' gits a rabbit-foot ; 'Cause de luck is bound to follah, When yo' gits a rabbit-foot. You may not want to tak' it, But 'tiz so, shorz yo' born, No matter how yo' mak' it, I'm always gwine to own A good ol* rabbit-foot. All yer trubbles seem to lebe yo', When yo' gits a rabbit-foot; Nobody kin decebe yo', When yo' gits a rabbit-foot. Jes' always git a lef ' foot, Don't nebber git de right; Ketch de rabbit in a grabeyard, 'Bout de middle ub de night Dat's de kind ub rabbit-foot. 83 'Weh Down Souf. Git de lef foot dat's behin', Dat's de lucky rabbit-foot; An' ef de rabbit's blin', Dat's a sho' rabbit-foot; 'Tiz better'n habin' munny, 'Cause dat may git away, But wid de proper rabbit-foot Yer luck is dar to stay. Jes' git a rabbit-foot. You'll git offis 'dout votin', Ef yo' got a rabbit-foot; All dese rich folks is a-totin' One dese same rabbit-foots. Sum dese edikated people Dat's a-laffin' so at me, Ef you'd look into dar pockets, I lay enny thing you'd see Dey's got a rabbit-foot. 84 'Weh Down Souf. MAT. In the swamp by a black gum, in a little log hut Lived Mat, The toughest little fellow, in tatters and rags At that; "A reg'lar good-for-nothing," the neighbors all vowed. He would rob a hen's nest; not a melon he allowed To remain in the patch yet we, for all that Liked Mat. With his tatters all flying and a crownless hat Came Mat 'Cross the hill by the corn-field and " sweet-tater " patch, And that Was a sign that the " taters " and corn had disap- peared, For when Mat was about, why everybody feared ; But, then, when you saw him your sorrow changed that For Mat. 85 'Weh Down Souf. For ten or eleven little brothers and sisters Had Mat, And his poor mother labored to feed and to clothe them At that; And work in the country, when you wash the whole day, And receive but a quarter is mighty poor pay, No wonder he was ragged, and would steal at that, Poor Mat ! Yet, the world often wonders, as it speeds on its way, At the Mats, Who are reared in ignorance, the world's "good- for-nothings;" But for that, How many called better, who have ne'er felt the smart Of poverty's nettle can boast of a heart As free from guile and as tender as that Of Mat. 86 'Weh Down Souf. DE GHANA CUP. Our church had a meeting, where the brethren gathered To transact the business they had for the Lord, To turn out the lambs who had strayed from the sheep-fold, And to take in repentants in accord with his word. The axe had been falling with impartiality On drunkards and policy- players of old, On sisters who'd fallen from pathways of virtue, And all who had wandered like sheep from the fold. At last came a sister whose skirts were all muddy, With drabbling in sin all the days of her youth, Had been caught and excluded 'mid tears of the brethren, But now would return to the pathway of truth. 87 'Weh Down Souf. " I am truly repentant, the Lord has forgiven; Since last month, when excluded, I've prayed night and day. Will you, brethren, forgive and restore me to fel- lowship, And, with Jesus to guide, I'll no more go astray ? " " Bless the Lord !' ' said the brethren; " Amen !' ' said the sisters, "Thank God, she's returning; I move take her in." The motion was carried with great hallelujahs For the sister restored from the by-ways of sin. Brother Slaughter waxed warm, and spoke of the prodigal, And the rejoicing in heaven o'er sinners re- turned : "Ef yo' fall, don't yo' woller, yo' kin tell a true Christyun, Fur down in de heart speretu'l oil will burn." 88 'Weh Down Souf. " De sister am good ez befo', ef not better, Fur dear is de lam's when returned to de fol', Ef yuz gwine ter sin, jes' be sho' yo' don't woller, An' yo' sho' ub de glory ez a pijin his hole." Up spoke Brother Van: "My brudder, hoi' on, dar! Youz ressin de skripshur, an' leadin' us wrong. 'Taint better to wander den keep de straight paf- way, An' de Lord lubs de young lam's dat keep right along. ' ' " I once had a chana cup I sot right much sto' by, One day bein' keerless, I drapped on de flo' . I patched it wid glu', sah, an' do' it held water, // nebber did ring like it did befo\ Yo' may dribe in a nail right in dis here pos' here, Den draw out de nail, but de hole is still dar ; Yo' maybu'n your fhar arm, an' heal up de bu'n, sah, But de schar gwy tell on you wharebber you 89 'Weh Down Souf. "True, de prodigal son got sum cloze an' sum vittles, But long he'd been starbin' wid nuthin' to wahr, While de boy dat staid horn' got de bes' ub de pickins, Wid lots er fin' raimen', an' plenty to sphar. Yo' wimmen who stray from de pafway ub virtue, May be 'sto'ed to de chuch an' yer sins plas- tered o'er; But like bells widout clappers mus' always remain, sah, An 1 dey nebbcr kin ring like dcy did befo* ." 90 'Weh Down Souf. I CAN TRUST. I can not see why trials come, And sorrows follow thick and fast; I can not fathom His designs, Nor why my pleasures can not last, Nor why my hopes so soon are dust; But I can trust. When darkest clouds my sky o'erhang, And sadness seems to fill the land, I calmly trust his promise sweet, And cling to His ne'er-failing hand, And in life's darkest hour I'll just Look up and trust. I know my life with Him is safe, And all things still must work for good To those who love and serve our God, And lean on Him as children should. Though hopes decay and turn to dust, I still will trust. 'Weh Down Souf. OLD NORMAL; Read before the Alumni Association of the Richmond High Normal School. Old Time with his sickle, in swift onward play, For once has turned backward; we're children to- day, And the world with its conflicts, its battles and strife, Is forgotten in pleasures and mem'ries of life. These girls with their puffs, bangs and frizzes ga- lore, Are again in short dresses, with white pinafore; While the men, with stiff collars and high beaver hat, Are boys in short breeches, and patched ones at that. As I'm standing here reading, I'm quaking with fear, For I think 'tis Miss Stratton whose footsteps I hear; 92 'Weh Down Souf. Or dear Mr. Manly, or sainted Miss Knowles, Comes tripping behind me, just ready to scold. "Please, Webster, sit down there!" I fancy she calls, While Miss Manly, Miss Hadley, Miss Patterson all Come trooping before me. But one thing I know : I can step by Miss Bass, she's so awfully slow. My name is still cut on the seat by the door I'm trying to cut higher than in days of yore; Yet I wonder if fame can give me the joy I found at old Normal when I was a boy. On the green field of life we're playing some game; Our base-ball and foot-ball we're playing the same. If we fail in our kicking, let us strive all the more, The world kicks much harder than Normal of yore. Some now make a home-run, and multitudes shout; While some strike a grounder, and others strike out. Tho' fallen and beaten, we still must be men, And try it to-morrow to win if we can. 93 'Weh Down Souf. Our girls of old Normal are still jumping rope But don't let it trip you and get your neck broke, For few, like old Normal, will help us, alas ! When once we have fallen from virtue's straight path. But well we remember no boyhood could last ; The world called for men, and we went to our task ; Some won and some failed, but in heart we are one, I trust just as true as the day we begun. Some fellows are lawyers, and sending to jail Their poor fellow-creatures, nor getting them bail; While others are doctors, and curing life's ills At least, if not curing, are sending in bills. Some now are professors and teachers in schools, And thrashing young urchins for breaking the rules ; Some maidens, some matrons, and some fond mammas, With children to try them and break all their laws. 94 'Weh Down Souf. What though they are climbing the ladder of fame ; They are Ben, Dan or Bowler Hayes, Johnston or James; Though clouded with care, and in dignified dress, They are Sallie and Julia, Rose, Anna and Bess. Some fellows are down now who then strove for fame Maybe gone to the bad ; they are ours the same ; Let's throw them a life-line who 're sinking in crime, And allure them to virtue for dear * ' Auld Lang Syne." But some fail to answer at call of the roll ; Our eyes fill with tears they are missed from the fold; In glory we'll greet them when battle is done; Pat, Walter and others will meet us, at home. Let's recount our battles, take courage and aim To help on each other to honor and fame ; Nor suffer our banner to trail in the dust, Or the bright sword of honor in scabbard to rust. 95 'Weh Down Souf. We think of our sorrows, we think of our joys, And in this reunion are again girls and boys; Old Time can not dampen our spirits so gay, We'll laugh at his efforts, we're children to-day. By this hallowed Elysium our tent is now spread, But soon to new duties new paths we must tread ; The world calls for heroes; our race calls for men, Unselfish and true to our duty as then. 96 'Weh Down Souf. GINGER SNAPS AND CIDER. Again the Christmas time is here, With joy in fullest measure, And every fellow, great and small, Is looking out for pleasure. To me the days no brighter seem, Although my vision's wider, Than when I was a country lad, With ginger snaps and cider. And when 'twas near " hog-killin' time," The world seemed to me bigger, For Christmas then was on the way, When I could cut a " figger;" Most homely were the joys we had " Molasses stews " and " parties " But innocent the joy they gave, With fun both pure and hearty. 97 'Weh Down Souf. Long past is now this simple joy, But, with the Christmas season, Do I feel just as happy now, And with as good a reason? I wonder if my heart's as free Now since my vision's wider, As in those bygone Christmas days Of ginger snaps and cider? Am I now deaf to sorrow's cry, Do I pass the poor unheeding? Do I truly wish for them the joy For which their hearts are pleading? Do I delight to bring a smile, And hearts cast down to brighten, And sympathize with others' woes, And help their lots to brighten? As came the " God-Man " from above To Bethl' hem's lowly manger, To seek and save the wand' ring sheep, The homeless and the stranger; 'Weh Down Souf. So be it ours some heart to cheer, As comes this time of pleasure, And fill the cup of lonely ones With joy in fullest measure. Some sit to-day in gilded halls, Secure from seeming troubles, While others, with a single crust, Are shiv' ring in their hovels. We wonder oft why this is true But life, at best, is fleeting, And oh, what recompense will come, With heaven's eternal meeting. I sometimes think we're growing up To be a wondrous people, But yet, I fear, in building we're Commencing with the steeple. Without a basis broad and deep, With virtue its foundation, And truth and right as corner-stones, We can not build a nation. 99 'Weh Down Souf. On social hops and fancy balls Society now fattens, But yet I find oft little souls May dwell 'neath silks and satins; Hypocrisy, deceit and lies May mean our scope is wider, But give me honest truth and love, With ginger snaps and cider. 100 'Weh Down Souf. I WONDER HOW THIS IS. I'm not a bad fellow, but just " kinder midlin," Not a devil incarnate, nor saint dressed in white; But "'bout half-and-half," with a sprinklin' of devil, And enough of the angel to keep me near right. Yet often I wander; my feet get entangled, 'Mid briers and quicksands too often I stray, And anxious I ask can I reach the pathway, As sinful and crooked I oft lose my way. Once I went to a funeral; the chap was a " tough one," A gambler, a drunkard, he cheated and lied, A deeply-dyed rascal, but gave big donations; So the preacher just fixed him all right when he died. 101 'Weh Down Souf. I went to the graveyard and looked on the tomb- stones What lovely inscriptions! all praising the dead; Every one there was good, every one had reached heaven I wondered where all the bad fellows were laid. And thus says the world ; if you've friends or have money You are certain of heaven, your sins plastered o'er; But the poor, seedy devils who have empty pockets, Nobody knows if they're in heaven or no. Perhaps this is right, and maybe up yonder The wonder will be, not that we were bad, But as good as we have been, 'mid all of the weak- ness, And all the temptations that each must have had. But we'll find lots of folks we thought were in heaven Have missed it; while others, assigned down be- low, Are exalted, for there full justice is given; By the heart God judges the rich and the poor. 102 "'Scuze me, mistis, but dar's sumfiri* De matter wid dem strings." 'Weh Down Souf. MISS LIZA'S BANJER. Hi! Miss Liza's got er banjer; Lemme see it, ef yo' please ! Now don' dat thing look pooty, A-layin' 'cross yer kneeze, Wid all dem lubly ribbins, An' silber trimmin's roun'. Now, mistis, please jes' tetch it, To lemme hear de soun'. 'Scuze me, mistis, but dar's sumfin* De matter wid dem strings ; I notis it don* zackly Gib de proper kinder ring; An' den de way yo' hoi' it Ain't lik' yo' orter do. Now, mistis, won't yo' lemme Jes' try a chune fur yo' ? 103 'Weh Down Souf. Now lis'n to de diffunce; I'se got the thing in chune, An' de music's lik' de breezes Dat fills de air in June. Fur a banjer's lik' a 'ooman Ef she's chuned de proper pitch, She'll gib yo' out de music Dat's sof, melojus, rich. But when yo' fail to chune her, Or to strike de proper string, Yo' kin no more git de music, Den mek' a kat-bird sing. An' 'taint always de fixin's Dat makes a 'ooman bes', But de kind ub wood she's made un Is de thing to stan' de tes' . I s'pose yer plays yer music Jes' lik' yo' hab it wrote, Or what is dat yo' call it A-playin' by de note? 104 'Weh Down Souf. Yo' kin fill yer head wid music Ez full ezit kin hoi', But yo' nebber gwine ter play it 'Tell yo' gits it in yer soul. T'ain't de proper notes dat makes yo' Feel lik' yo' wants to cry, But de soul dat's in de music Dat lif's yo' up on high; An' 'taint always de larnin', 'Do' a splendid thing, I kno', Dat lif's de low an' 'umble To higher things belo*. Keep larnin', den, Miss Liza, An* when yo' wants ter know Ef yo' kin play de banjer, Jes' kum to Uncle Joe ; Jes' fill yer head wid music, Ez full ez it kin hoi' But de music from de banjer Must fust be in de soul. 105 'Weh Down Souf. HOPE. When evening shades, the night's fair warning, Doth gild the spires with the last lingering ray, The sun's last tint is hope's bright dawning; The gloom will pass, the night shades fade away. Bright hope gives warning Of daylight's dawning, When gloom is past, night's darkness chased away. When sorrow, care and pain unceasing, Beset our pathway and our souls appall, We still can trust that love unceasing That gilds the stars, yet marks the sparrow's fall. That love imploring, Our trust enduring, Shall pierce the gloom by faith in Him, our All. When death's dark night its shadows gathers, Hope brightly beams and sheds her cheering ray ; Whate'er betide, we trust our Father, Who clothes the fields with flowers in bright array. Through ages winging, His praises singing, New life shall dawn with Heaven's eternal day. 1 06 'Weh Down Souf. DE BAPTIS' CHUCH. I b'leves in 'lijun; An' I 'joys it, too, 'Cause I bin born, hunny, Right thu an' thu; An' I bin dug up By de gospel plow, An' I'm jes' sho' fur glory Ez I wuz dar now. But, somehow or ruther, 'Do' I kan't tell why, Ef I wants to feel happy, Like I gwine fur to fly; An' feel ef I died, I wouldn't kheer much I mus' 'ten' dem meetin's At de Baptis' chuch. 107 'Weh Down Souf. De Mefdis' good, An' de Cammelites, too, But it takes an' oP Baptis' To sing 'um right thu; An' I don' b'leve de sinner Ebber bin born, Dat kin stan' out 'gainst A Baptis' mourn. 'Cause when oP Lige Git his han' to his jaw, An' 'gins fur to whoop 'um, An' snort an' rar, De stoutest oP sinner Is boun' fur to fall, 'Cause he can't stan' 'ginst Dat Baptis' call. Maybe sprinklin's good, An' porin's right, But berry me deep Down out er sight; 108 'Weh Down Souf. " I'm Baptis' bred, An' Baptis' born, An' when I'm ded Bar's a Baptis' gone." I'm jes' a-libbin' De bes' I know, An' tryin' to be hones', Whil' I'se here below; 'Cause dis I knows, Dat I done bin " born,' 1 An' I keeps on too tin' De Baptis' horn. I don* know much 'Bout doctrin's here, An' de diflunt 'lijuns, An' I don' kheer; Ef Gawd Ermighty ax me, I won't say much, But tell Him I 'longed To de Baptis' chuch. 109 'Weh Down Souf. PA YIN' FUR DE HYDIN. " Kum up here an' git salvashun, 'Tis fur eb'ry trib' an' nashun; Kum all yo' pizin sinnuz, Salvashun now is free; Jes' step up to de fountin, While de water is a-runnin' ; Ef yo' wanter go to glory, Jes' foller arter me." " Now it ain't no use er talkin', Fur de sperit is er walkin' ; 'Do* your sins is lik er mountin, Jes' ez big ez big kin be, Jes' a drop er dis huh water, Ef you tak' it ez yo' orter, Will make y'all brazin' sinnuz Almos' jes' ez good ez me." no 'Weh Down Souf. The sermon soon was ended, And the brethren said 'twas splendid, And the sisters felt so happy, That they scarcely touched the ground, Then the deacon, old but sprightly, Began to step up lightly, To gather in the pennies, As he passed the basket 'round. " I dejecks," said Brother Peter, A new converted "creeter," " Fur de pastor said salvashun, Like de water huh wuz free. ' ' " By dem words I is abidin', But yo' mus' pay fur de hydin," Said the pastor, "an' yo' understand, De hydin huh is me." in 'Weh Down Souf. OL' MISTIS. Oh, de times is fas' a-changin', Ez de years ar' rollin' on, An* de days seem mighty lonesum', Sense de good oF times is gon'. While I'm 'joycin' in my freedum, Nor wish fur slab'ry days, Yit it warms my heart to 'member Sum good oF-fashun ways. De pledjur ub de harves' De huntin' ub de coon, 'Weh down in de low groun', By de shinin' ub de moon; De dancin' in de cabin An' didn't we hab de fun, While de banjer wuz a-twangin', When de daily wuck wuz don'. 112 'Weh Down Souf. Ub all de plezzun mem'riz, Dar's one dat fills my heart, 'Tiz de thought ub dear ol' Mistis, An* 'twill nebber frum me part. No matter what de trubble De Lord wuz pleased to sen', We had jes' to tell ol' Mistis, She would alwa's be a fren'. Ef de oberseer 'buze us, An' frum de lash we'd run, An' weery, col', an' starvin', Afeard to kum back horn', Jes' git word to ol' Mistis, She'd smoov de trubble o'er, An' back we'd kum a sneakin', An' hear ub it no mo'. When sickness, kheer an' sorrow Gib nights ub akin' pain, An' tears frum werry eyelids Kum pou'in' down like rain; 'Weh Down Souf. Racked wid pains an' scotched wid febers, Wid lim's a-growin' col', She had liniments fur de body, An' de Bible fur de soul. An' when de 'partin' speerit Would fly to yuther lan's, She'd gently clos* de eyelids Wid tender, reb'rent han's, An' wid words ub consolation Would pint de heart abov', To whar dar is no shadders De heb'ny Ian' ub lov'. When de ebenin' sun wuz settin', On a Sunday arternoon, We'd gether in de great house, An' jine her in a chune; Den' she'd read de fam'ly Bible, An* lif' her soul in prayhr, Tell I eenmos' see de angels, An' 'majin I wuz dar. 114 'Weh Down Souf. All I knows erbout de 'lijun, I wuz teeched besize her knee, All erbout de blessid Sabyur, Who died fur eben me; An' when I gits to glory It kan't be long, I kno' I specks to meet oP Mistis On de bright an' happy sho'. 'Weh Down Souf. IS DAR WADERMILLUNS ON HIGH ? Dey tells erbout heben, an' de streets ub gol', An' de harp dat I'll play bime-by; But de thing dat puzzles me mo' an' mo', Shell I eat wadermilluns on high? Dey tells ub de robe, an' de starry crown, An' de ribber dat glides 'long by; Ub de tree ub life, an' twelve kinder frut, But nuthin' 'bout milluns on high. Dey sez dat de puh an' de good is blest Wid manshunz in de bright sky; But nobody tells dis chile ub grace Dat he'll eat wadermilluns on high. Dey sez dat my tears will be wiped away, No sorrer nor sighin' kum nigh; But I think I'd cry tell my eyes bus' out, Could I git no milluns on high. 116 'Weh Down Souf. Dey tells ub hunny an' milk an' things Dat de saints gwy git bime-by; Den huccum dey kan't hab a wadermillun patch In de lubly green fiel's on high? But in dat book what tells erbout heb'n Dey couldn't put all ef dey try, An' de parts dats nebber bin writ, I think, Tells ub big wadermilluns on high. 117 'Weh Down Souf. COOKIN' BY DE OL'-TIME FIRE-PLACE. I 'be heard ub lots ub cookin' by de cooks deysay is fin', Dat fixes up dar eatin's by de books; But wid all dar fancy dishes, dat may suit de high- est min', Dey kan't kum up to dese ol'-fashun cooks. An' 'dough dey hab dar ranges, an' eb'ry thing in style, An' sumtimes, maybe, dey kin hit de tas'e; But when it kums to cookin' dat kin beat dem all de whiT, Git A'n' Dinah, an' de ol'-time fire-place. She nebber had no larnin', but it kum jes' nat'yul so, She seemed to be cut out to suit de place ; An' Marster he wuz happy, howebber things would go> Wid A'n' Dinah at the ol'-time fire-place. 118 'Weh Down Souf. She could bake de bes' ol' flab-jacks dat ebber yo' behol', Dat would mak' yer raouf jes' water all de while; An' de way she'd roas' a possum, an' tak' him up right whole, Would mak' de baby in de cradle smile. She could cook a sweet pertater 'tell 'twuz mealy to de mouf, An' bake a corn-cake to de proper brown; Stew a ol' hare in de fashun yo' kin only fin' down Souf, An' tell when de pot don' bilin' by de soun'. An' how she'd bake de ash-cake between de collud leaves ! I couldn't begin to tell yo' ef I'd try; But she wuz fines' in de county, I really do believe, When she'd tackle ol' Virginny pun'kin pie. An' I kno' I could die happy, do' my pledjurs here am few, Ef befo' I finished up dis urfly race, I could git a meal ub vittles, jes' like I used to do, When A'n' Dinah used de ol'-time fire-place. 119 'Weh Down Souf. UNCLE 'RASTUS AND THE WHISKEY QUESTION. I don' hear dem rebolushuns 'bout whiskey en all dat, But yo' ain't gwy nebber pas' 'um. I tells yo' dat right flat; Don't let y'alls smartnis fool yo', en try to do too much, 'Cause yo' jes' gwy bring 'bout 'sturbance, en yo' tryin' to bus' dis chuch. Y'all know dat whiskey bin here long ' fore we wuz born, En t'ain't nebber trubbled nothin' better let wel 'nuf 'lone; 'Size, Paul don' tole you take it, jes' fur de stom- ach's sake, We cert'ny gwy bay de scripshur, den what y'all speck to make? 120 'Weh Down Souf. I hear y'all kote dat scripshur, " Ef eatin* meat 'fen, don't eat." But Paul won't talkin' 'bout whiskey, 'cause he pint'ly menshuns meat; Dat drunkards khant reach Heben, de guard won't let 'um in, But dat don't mean wid whiskey, but folks dat's drunk in sin. " Look not on de wine cup, ' ' is what de Word tells me, Well, don't dat mean to drink it? 'Tis plain ez plain ken be. But we 'cided 'fore we kum here to vote dat moshun down, 'Cause we argued it at meetin's we had all ober town. In kos we'z pozed to dancin' en all dem no-harm sins, An' will turn 'um out like lightnin' ef tiz dem upper tens; But all sich things ez drinkin', playin' policy en such, Am far too triflin' matters to fotch befo' dis chuch. 121 'Weh Down Souf. NIGHT ON DE OL' PLANTASHUN. Upon de oP plantashun, jes' erbout de crack ub day, You could lis'en fur de oberseer's horn; An* by sunrise we wuz movin', fur we had to git away, An' do an hones' day's wuck shorze yo' bo'n. But when de shadders gethered, an' we had done our turn, We'd put away de shuvel an' de hoe, Fur ol' marster never bothered, ef he knowed our wuck wuz done, Ef we den injoyed de fiddle an' de bow. Sumtimes our wives an' chillun wuz on de 'jinin' farm, Maybe ten or 'leben miles or mo' away; We'd walk it 'dout no trouble, nor did it don' us harm, An' be fresh an' ready fur de wuck nex' day. 122 'Weh Down Souf. We could dodge de patterrollers ef we didn't hab a pass Dat kind lib thing wuz only fun fur us An' 'stid ub us kumplainin', we 'joyed it to de las', An' wuz thankful to de Lord it won't no wuss. Some would gether in de cabin, or in de corn- house, whar, Wid tubs an' pots an' kittles settin' roun', Dey would rassle wid de Father in strong an' earnes' prayhr, Whil' de water in de vessels ketched de soun'. 'Cause 'do' we mout be sinnuz, an' wander frum de fol', Our 'zires wuz always right ez dey could be, An* our 'pendunce in de Bible, whar ub de Ian' we'z tol', Whar servunts frum de marster is set free. Maybe ignunce made us happy when de marster treat us fair, An' unkumplainin' when we found him mean; An' days ub toil an' trouble cheered by nights so free from care, On de ol' plantashun, now jes' like a dream. 123 'Weh Down Souf. An' when ol 1 Death shall take us, whar night kin kum no mo' , An' we meet in Heben above, to nebber roam, We'll talk up dar togedder, wid loved ones gon' befo', Ub de nights in de ol' plantashun horn'. 124 'Weh Down Souf. AUNT CHLOE'S LULLABY. Hesh ! my baby ; stop yer fuss, I's 'fraid yuz gittin wuss an' wuss; Doncher cry, an' I gwy mek' Mammy's baby 'lasses cake. Hesh! my lubly baby chiP, I gwy rock yo' all de whil' ; Nuffin gwyne to ketch yo' now, 'Cause yer mammy's watchin* yo'. Sleep ! my little baby, sleep ! Mammy's baby, Lou ! How dem dogs do bark to-night ! Better shet yer eyes up tight; Dey kan't hab dis baby dear; Mammy's watchin', doncher fear. Hear dem owls a-hootin' so? Dey shan't ketch dis baby, do'. Jes' like mistis lub her chil', Mammy lubs dis baby too. 125 'Weh Down Souf. Sleep ! my little baby, sleep ! Mammy's baby, Lou ! Mammy's baby, black an' sweet, Jes' like candy dat you eat, Mammy lay yo' in dis bed, While she mek de whi' folk's bread. Angels dey gwy look below, Watch dis baby sleepin' so. Go to sleep, my hunny, now, Ain't yer mammy watchin' yo'? Sleep ! my little baby, sleep ! Mammy's baby, Lou. 126 'Weh Down Souf. GOOD NIGHT ! Good-night ! The day is done, And evening shadows softly fall Good-night ! The night bird's gently cooing to its mate, And slowly now the silv'ry moonbeams Deck the evening sky with their pale rays,- Good-night! good-night! Good-night ! The day was long, And weary feet now gladly say, Good-night ! Forgot is toil as gentle sleep, The "sweet restorer," softly steals And fills our eyes. To all we say, ' ' Good-night ! good-night ! ' ' Good-night! Earth's day must close, And Death's cold summons make us say, "Good-night!" 127 'Weh Down Souf. The pain be past of life's rude days, Our feet press hard on Jordan's brink, And then to realms of blissful dreams Good-night ! good-night ! Good-night ! We fondly hope For us that brighter day will dawn. Good-night ! Oh ! may we live in loving trust That heaven's gate may open wide, When earth's last scenes fade from our view. Good-night ! good-night ! 128 APPENDIX. INTRODUCTION TO AUTHOR'S FIRST VOLUME OF POEMS.* This volume of poems from the pen of a mind en. dowed of God with rich fancy, which has been fertil- ized by liberal culture, patient industry, and that tact which makes most of opportunities, is presented to the public as an illustration of the dialect or patois of a part of the Negro race whose ancestry was nearer Africa than the class represented in age and opportunity by the writer of them. These poems are tradition and history in dialect or patois. They show the power, continuity and tenac- ity of race under circumstances the most adverse and the most untoward, as to its preservation of type and language, the outgrowth of a condition the race was powerless to relieve itself from, and which uncon- sciously stamped itself upon the people over thou- sands of miles of territory of a race foreign to the Negro race. Much that is best in the American Negro is tradi- tional ; all that is worst is historical, and not of his writing. In these poems the author has faithfully preserved * The majority of tne poems in Mr. Davis's first book, " Idle Moments," are republished in this book. THE PUBLISHERS. 129 Appendix. the dialect and something of the folk-lore of the Negro- American. The writer was born and reared in his loved Virginia. He came upon the scene just as the clouds and mists were rolling away. This nearness to slavery, this environment throughout his useful life as student and educator, makes these poems the more to be admired as a " counterfeit pre- sentment," not alone of how the Southern Negro talked in days of slavery but of how the Southern whites talked, of how all the people, in the rural parts of the South talk now. A peculiarly noticeable and interesting fact as to the physical strength of the Negro race type, all may see in the colored people, though the stream of Negro blood be so shallow as to be discernable only in the octoroon ; yet the Negro is stamped indelibly in this class, in features, in hair or in some prominent race peculiarity. So also is the strength of impression made upon the English language of America as marked and distinctive in the dialect of all the people of the South Atlantic and the South and Southwest- ern States, without distinction of race. There is no purpose to do Africa and our ancestry the injustice of implying that the language of the plantation is an African language, or an African provincialism, any more than to say that the planta- tion patois is English. The great majority of Negroes brought from Afri- ca into the colonies and later into the States of the United States, were, judged by appearances, of an inferior type from most of the races of that region, and in the main were Congo Africans, and brought with them their maternal language, the Congo, be- 130 Appendix. tween which and the language of Europe there exists the greatest dissimilarity. Those not natives to the Congo region, were from the interior and coast tribes. Now all the original immigrants were, by the system of traffic peculiar to American slavery, scattered throughout the colonies and the States. The effect of this separation upon their language was plainly shown in their adherence to the accentu- ation of it, to the peculiarity of pronunciation of Eng- lish words, a peculiarity inseparable from the bent of their mother tongue, their African languages. These peculiarities of speech were transmitted from father to son in an unbroken line of centuries. Yet so strong have been the cords and chains of lan- guage, where the race has been most numerous, that the training of the schools has not been able to break the hold of paternal speech, an admixture of African accentuation grafted upon European languages as spoken in the United States. One illustration will serve to make plain the fact now dwelt upon. There appears to be no race of Europeans, the English excepted, who pronounce the Greek theta, as the ancient Greeks did. There is no African who has reached his majority in Africa whom I have heard of, who can pronounce as did the Greeks and Anglo-Saxons, theta, th. In this matter of pronunciation there is between Africans in Africa, and French, Spanish, Portuguese, Italian and North Europe peoples this similarity, an inability to make the sound th as in English. These races for th, say d. Hence the patois of the planta- tion is dat, dis and dem, for that, this and them. What Frenchman, born and reared in France, can Appendix. say theater as the Greeks of old or Anglo-Saxon of today, or the Arab would pronounce it? So difficult is this sound to make that, in teaching Arabic, the that, d, of Arabic has by grammarians been changed to dal in the Arabic grammar used in Africa. The Anglo-Saxon Americans who were born and reared, and who lived among the blacks from in- fancy to old age heard the jargon or patois of the Negro in his frantic effort to overcome the heredi- tary limitations of his own language, more frequent- ly than the purity of England's English spoken, and unconsciously, the provincialisms in speech of the blacks have been stamped upon the English of the South, whether Southerners (whites) would have it so or otherwise, and the infection is upon their speech. Herein is an anomaly, the power and influence of an inferior people over the speech of a superior race. The word inferior is here to be taken as adventi- tious, and not as natural. The Negro race in Ameri- ca to-day is to the whites inferior from circum- stance rather than anything inherent in soul and brain. The progress already made shows this be- yond cavil or controversy. Let us hope that this progress which does not make us vain, but grateful to God, is but the initial step to a better civilization than we have known. The crudities of speech portrayed in these poems, in some, will provoke laughter, in some contempt, and not infrequently offend the sensitiveness of some ; and yet they serve to remind us of the misfor- tunes of our ancestry and the cruelties of an alien people. But the progress made and being made by 132 Appendix. us in learning convinces us that this patois is not natural to the American blacks, but simply marks the transition of Afncan illiteracy to an alien tongue. A hundred years hence when illiteracy among the Negroes of America shall be less pronounced than it is among the masses of the whites now, this patois will prove interesting and amusing to our posterity, whose command of English and European languages will not be inferior to that of the American scholarly class of to-day. This part of Negro tradition and history, so well preserved in verse by the muse's spirit breathed into these poems, serves to convince us that if this work is to be best done, most faitnfully retained to us, the source and means must be Negro and not Caucasian. Phyllis Wheatly of a century ago, Paul Dunbar and Daniel Webster Davis of to-day, are poets whose race identity may not be questioned, and are race representations in literature showing the world that the muses, like the gods of past ages, delight to dis- port themselves among the gentle Ethiopians. JOHN H. SMYTHE. 902 Seventh street, N. , Richmond, Va. 133 GLOSSARY. Biggis' biggest Bimeby by and by. Ghana china. Cohn corn. Chidlins hog's entrails, 'dough although. 'dout without. Erbout about Ez as. Fhar fair. Gallus suspender. Gent'mun gentleman. Gib' give. 'Gin begin. Gimme give me. Gwine going. Gwy going. Ho'ped helped. Huccum how comes. Hydin hydrant Inchin* . coming slowly. Kayed . . . . ;.'/.',,' carried. Kaze because. Ketch catch. Kheer care. Kotched caught. Lemme -let me. Glossary. 'Lijun religion. Marster master. Medjur measure, Mek make. Melojus melodious. Mistis mistress. Nat'yul natural. 'Nogurashun inauguration. Nuther neither. or old Patterrollers policemen or patrolmen. Peckin' impose upon. Pijin pigeon. Pledjur pleasure. Prayhr prayer. Ras'le wrestle. Reggin reckon. Ressin wresting. Roos' roost Schar scar. Sho 1 sur. Shorz sure as. Speretu'l spiritual. Sphar spare. Surt'ny certainly. Tak' hur get out of the way. Tetch touch. Totin' . . . carrying. Tredjur treasure. Tuther the other. Ub of. Wadermillun watermelon, 135 Glossary. Wahr , , wear. 'Weh . .; ' * '.; away. Whar where. Wuck work. Wuz was. Ya'll you all Yer your. Yurz ears. Yuther other. Zerbs . deserves. 136