KU-KLUX EMBLEMS.
KU-KLUX EMBLEMS.
Some time since there was considerable talk about a “War of Races,†but the war was all on the side of the whites. The freedman has succumbed to brute force, and hence the war of races is suspended; but let him attempt to assert his rights of citizenship, as the white man does at the North, according to the dictates of his own conscience and sense of duty, and the bloody hands of the Ku-Klux and White Leaguer will appear in all their horrors once more—the “dream that has passed†would become a sad reality again.
Immediatelyafter the Rebellion ceased, the freedmen throughout the South, desiring nodoubt to be fully satisfied that they were actually free and their own masters, and could go where they pleased, left their homes in the country and took up their abode in the cities and towns. This, as a matter of course, threw them out of business, and large numbers could be seen idly lolling about the steps of the court house, town hall, or other county buildings, or listlessly wandering through the streets. That they were able to do this seemed to them positive evidence that they were really free. It was not long, however, before they began to discover that they could not live without work, and that the only labor that they understood was in the country on the plantations. Consequently they returned to the farms, and in many instances to their former masters. Yet the old love for visiting the cities and towns remained, and they became habituated to leaving their work on Saturdays, and going to the place nearest to them. This caused Saturday to be called “nigger day,†in most of the Southern States.
On these occasions they sell their cotton or other produce, do their trading, generally having two jugs, one for the molasses, the other for the whiskey, as indispensible to the visit. The store-keepers get ready on Saturday morning, putting their brightest and most gaudy-colored goods in the windows or on the front of their counters. Jew shops put their hawkers at their doors, and the drinking saloons, billiard saloons, and other places of entertainment, kept for their especial accommodation, either bymen of their own race or by whites, are all got ready for an extra run.
Being on a visit to the State of Alabama, for a while, I had a fair opportunity of seeing the colored people in that section under various circumstances. It was in the autumn and I was at Huntsville. The principal business houses of the city are situated upon a square which surrounds the court house, and at an early hour in the morning this is filled with colored people of all classes and shades. On Saturdays there are often fully two thousand of them in the streets at one time. At noon the throng was greatest, and up to that time fresh wagon-loads of men, women, and children, were continually arriving. They came not only in wagons, but on horses, and mules, and on foot. Their dress and general appearance were very dissimilar. Some were dressed in a queer looking garment made of pieces of old army blankets, a few were apparelled in faded military overcoats, which were liberally supplied with patches of other material. The women, unlike their husbands and other male relations, were dressed in finery of every conceivable fashion. All of them were decked out with many-colored ribbons. They wore pinchbeck jewelry in large quantities. A few of the young girls displayed some little taste in the arrangement of their dress; and some of them wore expensive clothes. These, however, were “city niggers,†and found but little favor in the eyes of the country girls. As the farmers arrived they hitched their tumble-down wagons and bony mulesnear the court house, and then proceeded to dispose of the cotton and other products which they had brought to town.
While the men are selling their effects, the women go about from store to store, looking at the many gaudy articles of wearing apparel which cunning shop-keepers have spread out to tempt their fancy. As soon as “the crop†is disposed of, and a negro farmer has money in his pocket, his first act is to pay the merchant from whom he obtained his supplies during the year. They are improvident and ignorant sometimes, but it must be said, to their credit, that as a class they always pay their debts, the moment they are in a position to do so. The country would not be so destitute if a larger number of white men followed their example in this respect. When they have settled up all their accounts, and arranged for future bills, they go and hunt up their wives, who are generally on the look-out. They then proceed to a dining saloon, call for an expensive meal, always finishing with pies, puddings, or preserves, and often with all three. When they have satisfied their appetites, they go first to the dry-goods stores. Here, as in other shops, they are met by obsequious white men, who conduct them at once to a back or side room, with which most of the stores are supplied. At first I could not fathom the mystery of this ceremony. After diligent inquiry, however, I discovered that, since the war, unprincipled store-keepers, some of them northern men, have established the custom of giving the countrynegroes, who come to buy, as much whiskey as they wish to drink. This is done in the back rooms I have mentioned, and when the unfortunate black men and women are deprived of half their wits by the vile stuff which is served out to them, they are induced to purchase all sorts of useless and expensive goods.
In their soberest moments average colored women have a passion for bright, colored dresses which amounts almost to madness, and, on such occasions as I have mentioned, they never stop buying until their money is exhausted. Their husbands have little or no control over them, and are obliged, whether they will or not, to see most of their hard earnings squandered upon an unserviceable jacket, or flimsy bonnet, or many-colored shawl. I saw one black woman spend upward of thirty dollars on millinery goods. As she received her bundle from the cringing clerk she said, with a laugh:
“I ’clare to the Lord I’se done gone busted my old man, sure.â€
“Never mind,†said the clerk, “he can work for more.â€
“To be sure,†answered the woman, and then flounced out of the store.
The men are but little better than the women in their extravagance. I saw a man on the square who had bargained for a mule, which he very much needed, and which he had been intending to purchase as soon as he sold his cotton. He agreed to pay fifty-seven dollars for the animal, and felt in hispocket for the money, but could find only sixteen dollars. Satisfying himself that he had no more, he said:
“Well, well, ef dis ain’t de most stravagant nigger I ever see; I sole two bales of cotton dis bressed day, an’ got one hundred and twenty-two dollars, an’ now I is got only dis.†Here he gave a loud laugh and said:
“Ole mule, I want you mighty bad, but I’ll have to let you slide dis time.â€
While the large dealers were selling their products and emptying their wagons, those with vegetables and fruits were vending them in different sections of the city. A man with a large basket upon his head came along through one of the principal streets shouting:
“Hellow, dar, in de cellar, I is got fresh aggs, jess fum de hen, lay ’em dis mornin’ fer de ’casion; here dey is, big hen’s aggs, cheap. Now’s yer time. Dees aggs is fresh an’ good, an’ will make fuss-rate agg-nog. Now’s yer time fer agg-nogg wid new aggs in it; all laid dis mornin’.†Here he set down his basket as if to rest his head. Seeing a colored servant at one of the windows, he called out:
“Here, sister, here’s de fresh aggs; here dey is, big aggs fum big hen, much as she could do to lay ’em. Now’s yer time; don’t be foolish an’ miss dis chance.â€
Just then, a man with a wagon-load of stuff came along, and his voice completely shut out the man with “de fresh aggs.â€
“Here,†cried he, “here’s yer nice winter squash, taters,—Irish taters, sweet taters, Carliner taters. Big House, dar, Big House, look out de winder; here’s yer nice cabbages, taters, sweet taters, squash. Now’s yer time to get ’em cheap. To-morrow is Christmas, an’ yer’ll want ’em, shore.â€
The man with the basket of eggs on his head, and who had been silenced by the overpowering voice of the “tater†man, called out to the other, “Now, I reckon yer better go in anudder street. I’s been totin’ dees aggs all day, an’ I don’t get in nobody’s way.â€
“I want to know, is dis your street?†asked the “tater†man.
“No; but I tank de Lord, I is got some manners ’bout me. But, den, I couldn’t speck no more fum you, fer I knowed you afore de war; you was one of dem cheap niggers, clodhopper, never taste a bit of white bread till after de war, an’ den didn’t know ’twas bread.â€
“Well, den, ef you make so much fuss ’bout de street, I’ll go out of it; it’s nothin’ but a second-handed street, no how,†said the “tater†man, and drove off, crying, “taters, sweet taters, Irish taters, an’ squash.â€
Passing into a street where the colored people are largely represented, I met another head peddler. This man had a tub on his head and with a musical voice was singing:—
“Here’s yer chitlins, fresh an’ sweet,Who’ll jine de Union?Young hog’s chitlins hard to beat,Who’ll jine de Union?Methodist chitlins, jest been biled,Who’ll jine de Union?Right fresh chitlins, dey ain’t spiled,Who’ll jine de Union?Baptist chitlins by de pound,Who’ll jine de Union?As nice chitlins as ever was found,Who’ll jine de Union?
“Here’s yer chitlins, fresh an’ sweet,Who’ll jine de Union?Young hog’s chitlins hard to beat,Who’ll jine de Union?Methodist chitlins, jest been biled,Who’ll jine de Union?Right fresh chitlins, dey ain’t spiled,Who’ll jine de Union?Baptist chitlins by de pound,Who’ll jine de Union?As nice chitlins as ever was found,Who’ll jine de Union?
“Here’s yer chitlins, out of good fat hog; jess as sweet chitlins as ever yer see. Dees chitlins will make yer mouf water jess to look at ’em. Come an’ see ’em.â€
At this juncture the man took the tub from his head, sat it down, to answer a woman who had challenged his right to call them “Baptist chitlins.â€
“Duz you mean to say dat dem is Baptiss chitlins?â€
“Yes, mum, I means to say dat dey is real Baptist chitlins, an’ nuffin’ else.â€
“Did dey come out of a Baptiss hog?†inquired the woman.
“Yes, mum, dem chitlins come out of a Baptist hog.â€
“How duz you make dat out?â€
“Well, yer see, dat hog was raised by Mr. Roberson, a hard-shell Baptist, de corn dat de hog was fatted on was also raised by Baptists, he was killed and dressed by Geemes Boone, an’ you all know dat he’e as big a Baptist as ever lived.â€
“Well,†said the woman, as if perfectly satisfied, “lem-me have two poun’s.â€
By the time the man had finished his explanation, and weighed out her lot, he was completely surrounded with women and men, nearly all of whom had their dishes to get the choice morsel in.
“Now,†said a rather solid-looking man. “Now, I want some of de Meth-diss chitlins dat you’s bin talking ’bout.â€
“Here dey is, ser.â€
“What,†asked the purchaser, “you take ’em all out of de same tub?â€
“Yes,†quickly replied the vender.
“Can you tell ’em by lookin’ at ’em?†inquired the chubby man.
“Yes, ser.â€
“How duz you tell ’em?â€
“Well, ser, de Baptist chitlins has bin more in de water, you see, an’ dey’s a little whiter.â€
“But, how duz I know dat dey is Meth-diss?â€
“Well, ser, dat hog was raised by Uncle Jake Bemis, one of de most shoutin’ Methodist in de Zion connection. Well, you see, ser, de hog pen was right close to de house, an’ dat hog was so knowin’ dat when Uncle Jake went to prayers, ef dat hog was squeelin’ he’d stop. Why, ser, you could hardly get a grunt out of dat hog till Uncle Jake was dun his prayer. Now, ser, ef dat don’t make him a Methodist hog, what will?â€
“Weigh me out four pounds, ser.â€
“Here’s your fresh chitlins, Baptist chitlins, Methodist chitlins, all good an’ sweet.â€
And in an hour’s time the peddler, with his emptytub upon his head, was making his way out of the street, singing,—
“Methodist chitlins, Baptist chitlins,Who’ll jine de Union?â€
“Methodist chitlins, Baptist chitlins,Who’ll jine de Union?â€
Hearing the colored cotton-growers were to have a meeting that night, a few miles from the city, and being invited to attend, I embraced the opportunity. Some thirty persons were assembled, and as I entered the room, I heard them chanting—
Sing yo’ praises! Bless de Lam!Getting plenty money!Cotton’s gwine up—’deed it am!People, ain’t it funny?Chorus.—Rise, shine, give God the glory.[Repeatglory.]Don’t you tink hit’s gwine to rain?Maybe was, a little;Maybe one ole hurricane’S bilin’ in de kittle!—Chorus.Craps done fail in Egypt lan’—Say so in de papers;Maybe little slight o’ hand’Mong de specerlaters.—Chorus.Put no faith in solemn views;Keep yo’ pot a smokin’,Stan’ up squah in yo’ own shoes—Keep de debble chokin’!—Chorus.Fetch me ’roun’ dat tater juice!Stop dat sassy grinnin’!Turn dat stopper clean a-loose—Keep yo’ eye a skinnin’!—Chorus.Here’s good luck to Egypt lan’!Hope she ain’t a-failin’!Hates to see my fellermanStraddle ob de pailin’!—Chorus.
Sing yo’ praises! Bless de Lam!Getting plenty money!Cotton’s gwine up—’deed it am!People, ain’t it funny?
Chorus.—Rise, shine, give God the glory.[Repeatglory.]
Don’t you tink hit’s gwine to rain?Maybe was, a little;Maybe one ole hurricane’S bilin’ in de kittle!—Chorus.
Craps done fail in Egypt lan’—Say so in de papers;Maybe little slight o’ hand’Mong de specerlaters.—Chorus.
Put no faith in solemn views;Keep yo’ pot a smokin’,Stan’ up squah in yo’ own shoes—Keep de debble chokin’!—Chorus.
Fetch me ’roun’ dat tater juice!Stop dat sassy grinnin’!Turn dat stopper clean a-loose—Keep yo’ eye a skinnin’!—Chorus.
Here’s good luck to Egypt lan’!Hope she ain’t a-failin’!Hates to see my fellermanStraddle ob de pailin’!—Chorus.
The church filled up; the meeting was well conducted, and measures taken to protect cotton-raisers, showing that these people, newly-made free, and uneducated, were looking to their interests.
Paying a flying visit to Tennessee, I halted at Columbia, the capital of Maury County. At Redgerford Creek, five miles distant from Columbia, lives Joe Budge, a man with one hundred children. Never having met one with such a family, I resolved to make a call on the gentleman and satisfy my own curiosity.
This distinguished individual is seventy-one years old, large frame, of unadulterated blood, and spent his life in slavery up to the close of the war.
“How many children have you, Mr. Budge?†I asked.
“One hundred, ser,†was the quick response.
“Are they all living?â€
“No, ser.â€
“How many wives had you?â€
“Thirteen, ser.â€
“Had you more than one wife living at any time?â€
“O, yes, ser, nearly all of dem ware livin’ when de war broke out.â€
“How was this, did the law allow you to have more than one wife at a time?â€
“Well, yer see, boss, I waren’t under de law, I ware under marser.â€
“Were you married to all of your wives by a minister?â€
“No, ser, only five by de preacher.â€
“How did you marry the others?â€
“Ober de broomstick an’ under de blanket.â€
“How was that performed?â€
“Well, yer see, ser, dey all ’sembles in de quarters, an’ a man takes hold of one en’ of de broom an’ a ’oman takes hole of tudder en’, an’ dey holes up de broom, an’ de man an’ de ’oman dats gwine to get married jumps ober an’ den slips under a blanket, dey put out de light an’ all goes out an’ leabs em dar.â€
“How near together were your wives?â€
“Marser had fore plantations, an’ dey live ’bout on ’em, dem dat warn’t sold.â€
“Did your master sell some of your wives?â€
“O! yes, ser, when dey got too ole to bare children. You see, marser raised slaves fer de market, an’ my stock ware called mighty good, kase I ware very strong, an’ could do a heap of work.â€
“Were your children sold away from you?â€
“Yes, ser, I see three of ’em sole one day fer two thousand dollars a-piece; yer see dey ware men grown up.â€
“Did you select your wives?â€
“Dunno what you mean by dat word.â€
“Did you pick out the women that you wanted?â€
“O! no, ser, I had nuthin ter say ’bout dat. Marser allers get ’em, an’ pick out strong, hearty young women. Dat’s de reason dat de planters wanted to get my children, kase dey ware so helty.â€
“Did you never feel that it was wrong to get married in such a light manner?â€
“No, ser, kase yer see I toted de witness wid me.â€
“What do you mean by that?â€
“Why, ser, I had religion, an’ dat made me feel dat all ware right.â€
“What was the witness that you spoke of?â€
“De change of heart, ser, is de witness dat I totes in my bosom; an’ when a man’s got dat, he fears nuthin, not eben de debble himsef.â€
“Then you know that you’ve got the witness?â€
“Yes, ser, I totes it right here.†And at this point, Mr. Budge put his hand on his heart, and looked up to heaven.
“I presume your master made no profession of religion?â€
“O! yes, ser, you bet he had religion. He ware de fustest man in de church, an’ he ware called mighty powerful in prayer.â€
“Do any of your wives live near you now, except the one that you are living with?â€
“Yes, ser, dar’s five in dis county, but dey’s all married now to udder men.â€
“Have you many grand-children?â€
“Yes, ser, when my ’lations am all tergedder, dey numbers ’bout fore hundred, near as I ken get at it.â€
“Do you know of any other men that have got as many children as you?â€
“No, ser, dey calls me de boss daddy in dis part of de State.â€
Having satisfied my curiosity, I bade Mr. Budge “good-day.â€
Spendingpart of the winter of 1880 in Tennessee, I began the study of the character of the people and their institutions. I soon learned that there existed an intense hatred on the part of the whites, toward the colored population. Looking at the past, this was easily accounted for. The older whites, brought up in the lap of luxury, educated to believe themselves superior to the race under them, self-willed, arrogant, determined, skilled in the use of side-arms, wealthy—possessing the entire political control of the State—feeling themselves superior also to the citizens of the free States,—this people was called upon to subjugate themselves to an ignorant, superstitious, and poverty-stricken, race—a race without homes, or the means of obtaining them; to see the offices of State filled by menselected from this servile set made these whites feel themselves deeply degraded in the eyes of the world. Their power was gone, but their pride still remained. They submitted in silence, but “bided their time,†and said: “Never mind; we’ll yet make your hell a hot one.â€
The blacks felt their importance, saw their own power in national politics, were interviewed by obsequious and cringing white men from the North—men, many of them, far inferior, morally, to the negro. Two-faced, second-class white men of the South, few in number, it is true, hung like leeches upon the blacks. Among the latter was a respectable proportion of free men—free before the Rebellion; these were comparatively well educated; to these and to the better class of freedmen the country was to look for solid work. In the different State Legislatures, the great battle was to be fought, and to these the interest of the South centred. All of the Legislatures were composed mainly of colored men. The few whites that were there were not only no help to the blacks, but it would have been better for the character of the latter, and for the country at large, if most of them had been in some State prison.
Colored men went into the Legislatures somewhat as children go for the first time to a Sabbath school. They sat and waited to see “the show.†Many had been elected by constituencies, of which not more than ten in a hundred could read the ballots they deposited; and a large number of these Representatives could not write their own names.
This was not their fault. Their want of education was attributable to the system of slavery through which they had passed, and the absence of the educated intelligent whites of the South, was not the fault of the colored men. This was a trying position for the recently-enfranchised blacks, but nobly did they rise above the circumstances. The speeches made by some of these men exhibited a depth of thought, flights of eloquence, and civilized statesmanship, that throw their former masters far in the back-ground. Yet, amongst the good done, bills were introduced and passed, giving State aid to unworthy objects, old, worn-out corporations re-galvanized, bills for outrageous new frauds drawn up by white men, and presented by blacks; votes of both colors bought up, bills passed, money granted, and these ignorant men congratulated as “Statesmen.â€
While this “Comedy of Errors†was being performed at the South, and loudly applauded at the North, these very Northern men, who had yelled their throats sore, would have fainted at the idea of a negro being elected a member of their own Legislature.
By and by came the reaction. The disfranchised whites of the South submitted, but complained. Northern men and women, the latter, always the most influential, sympathized with the dog underneath. As the tide was turning, the white adventurers returned from the South with piles of greenbacks, and said that they had been speculating incotton; but their neighbors knew that it was stolen, for they had been members of Southern Legislatures.
While Northern carpet-baggers were scudding off to their kennels with their ill-gotten gains, the Southern colored politicians were driving fast horses, their wives in their fine carriages; and men, who, five years before were working in the cotton field under the lash, could now draw their checks for thousands.
This extravagance of black men, followed by the heavy taxes, reminded the old Southerners of their defeat in the Rebellion; it brought up thoughts of revenge; Northern sympathy emboldened them at the South, which resulted in the Ku-Klux organizations, and the reign of terror that has cursed the South ever since.
The restoring of the rebels to power and the surrendering the colored people to them, after using the latter in the war, and at the ballot box, creating an enmity between the races, is the most bare-faced ingratitude that history gives any account of.
After all, the ten years of negro Legislation in the South challenges the profoundest study of mankind. History does not record a similar instance. Five millions of uneducated, degraded people, without any preparation whatever, set at liberty in a single day, without shedding a drop of blood, burning a barn, or insulting a single female. They reconstructed the State Governments that their masters had destroyed; became Legislators, heldState offices, and with all their blunders, surpassed the whites that had preceded them. Future generations will marvel at the calm forbearance, good sense, and Christian zeal of the American Negro of the nineteenth century.
Nothing has been left undone to cripple their energies, darken their minds, debase their moral sense, and obliterate all traces of their relationship to the rest of mankind; and yet how wonderfully they have sustained the mighty load of oppression under which they have groaned for thousands of years.
After looking at the past history of both races, I could easily see the cause of the great antipathy of the white man to the black, here in Tennessee. This feeling was most forcibly illustrated by an incident that occurred one day while I was standing in front of the Knoxville House, in Knoxville. A good-looking, well-dressed colored man approached a white man, in a business-like manner, and began talking to him, but ere he had finished the question, the white raised his walking stick, and with much force, knocked off the black man’s hat, and with an oath said, “Don’t you know better than to speak to a white man with your hat on, where’s your manners?†The negro picked up his hat, held it in his hand, and resumed the conversation.
I inquired of the colored gentleman with whom I was talking, who the parties were; he replied,—“The white man is a real estate dealer, and the colored man is Hon. Mr. ——, ex-member of the General Assembly.â€
This race feeling is still more forcibly set forth in the dastardly attack of John Warren, of Huntingdon. The wife of this ruffian, while passing through one of the streets of that town, was accidentally run against by Miss Florence Hayes, who offered ample apology, and which would have been accepted by any well-bred lady. However, Mrs. Warren would not be satisfied with anything less than the punishment of the young lady. Therefore, the two-fisted, coarse, rough, uncouth ex-slave-holder, proceeded to Miss Hayes’ residence, gained admission, and without a word of ceremony seized the young lady by the hair, and began beating her with his fist, and kicking her with his heavy boots.
Not until his victim lay prostrate and senseless at his feet, did this fiend cease his blows. Miss Hayes was teaching school at Huntingdon when this outrage was committed, and so severe was the barbarous attack, that she was compelled to return to her home at Nashville, where she was confined to her room for several weeks. Yet, neither law nor public opinion could reach this monster.
A few days after the assault, the following paragraph appeared in the HuntingdonVindicator:
“The occurrences of the past two weeks in the town of Huntingdon should prove conclusively to the colored citizens that there is a certain line existing between themselves and the white people which they cannot cross with impunity. The incident which prompts us to write this article, is the thrashing which a white gentleman administered to a coloredwoman last week. With no wish to foster a spirit of lawlessness in this community, but actuated by a desire to see the negro keep in his proper place, we advise white men everywhere tostand up for their rights, and in no case yield an inch to the encroachment of an inferior race.â€
“Stand up for their rights,†with this editor, means for the white ruffianly coward to knock down every colored lady that does not give up the entire sidewalk to him or his wife.
It was my good fortune to meet on several occasions Miss Florence T. Hayes, the young lady above alluded to, and I never came in contact with a more retiring, lady-like person in my life. She is a student of Tennessee Central College, where she bears an unstained reputation, and is regarded by all who know her to possess intellectual gifts far superior to the average white young women of Tennessee.
Spending a night in the country, we had just risen from the supper-table when mine host said:
“Listen, Mingo is telling how he re-converted his daughter; listen, you’ll hear a rich story, and a true one.†Mr. Mingo lived in the adjoining room.
“Yes, Mrs. Jones, my darter has bin home wissitin’ me, an’ I had a mighty trial wid her, I can tell yer.â€
“What was the matter, Mr. Mingo?†inquired the visitor.
“Well, yer see, Fanny’s bin a-livin’ in Philamadelfy, an’ she’s a mighty changed ’oman in her ways.When she come in de house, she run up to her mammy and say,—‘O! mar, I’m exquisitely pleased to greet you.’ Den she run ter me an’ sed,—‘O! par,’ an’ kiss me. Well, dat was all well enuff, but to see as much as two yards of her dress a-dragin’ behind her on de floor, it was too much,—an’ it were silk, too. It made my heart ache. Ses I,—‘Fanny, you’s very stravagant, dragin’ all dat silk on de floor in dat way.’ ‘O!’ sed she, ‘that’s the fashion, par.’ Den, yer see, I were uneasy fer her. I were ’fraid she’d fall, fer she had on a pair of boots wid the highess heels I eber see in my life, which made her walk as ef she were walkin’ on her toes. Den, she were covered all over wid ribbons and ruffles.
“When we set down to dinner, Fanny eat wid her fork, an’ when she see her sister put de knife in her mouf, she ses,—‘Don’t put your knife in your mouth; that’s vulgar.’ Nex’ mornin’, she took out of her pocket some seeds, an’ put ’em in a tin cup, an’ pour bilin’ hot water on ’em. Ses I,—‘Fanny, is yer sick, an’ gwine to take some medicine?’
“‘O! no, par, it’s quince seed, to make some gum-stick-um.’
“‘What is dat fer?’ I axed.
“‘Why, par, it’s to make Grecian waves on my forehead. Some call them “scallopes.†We ladies in the city make them. You see, par, we comb our hair down in little waves, and the gum makes them stick close to the forehead. All the white ladies in the city wear them; it’s all the fashion.’
“Well, yer see, Mrs. Jones, I could stand all dat,but when we went to prayers I ax Fanny to lead in prayer; an’ when dat gal got on her knees and took out of her pocket a gilt-edge book, and read a prayer, den I were done, I ax myself is it possible dat my darter is come to dat. So, when prayer were over, I sed: ‘Fanny, what kind of religion is dat yer’s got?’ Sed she,—‘Why, par, I em a Piscopion.’ ‘What is dat?’ I axed. ‘That’s the English Church service. Den yer’s no more a Methodist?’ ‘O! no,’ said she, ‘to be a Piscopion is all the fashion.’â€
“Stop, Mr. Mingo,†sed Mrs. Jones; “what kind of religion is dat? Is it Baptiss?â€
“No, no,†replied the old man; “ef it were Baptiss, den I could a-stood dat, kase de Baptiss religion will do when yer can’t get no better. Fer wid all dey faults, I believe de Baptiss ken get into hebben by a tight squeeze. Kase, yer see, Mrs. Jones, I is a Methodiss, an’ I believes in ole-time religion, an’ I wants my chillen to meet me in hebben. So, I jess went right down on my knees an’ ax de Lord to show me my juty about Fanny, fer I wanted to win her back to de ole-time religion. Well, de Lord made it all plain to me, an’ follerin’ de Lord’s message to me, I got right up an’ went out into de woods an’ cut some switches, an’ put ’em in de barn. So I sed to Fanny: ‘Come, my darter, out to de barn; I want to give yer a present to take back to Philamadelfy wid yer.’
“‘Yes, par,’ said she, fer she was a-fixin’ de ’gum-stick-um’ on her hair. So I went to de barn, an’very soon out come Fanny. I jess shut de door an’ fasten it, and took down my switches, an’ ax her,—‘What kind of religion is dat yer’s got?’
“‘Piscopion, par.’ Den I commence, an’ I did give dat gal sech a whippen, and she cry out,—‘O! par. O! par, please stop, par.’ Den I ax her,—‘What kind of religion yer’s got?’ ‘Pis-co-copion,’ sed she. So I give her some moo, an’ I ax her again,—‘What kind of religion is yer got?’ She sed,—‘O! par, O! par.’ Sed I,—‘Don’t call me “par.†Call me in de right way.’ Den she said,—‘O! daddy, O! daddy, I is a Methodiss. I is got ole-time religion; please stop an’ I’ll never be a Piscopion any more.’
“So, yer see, Mrs. Jones, I converted dat gal right back to de ole-time religion, which is de bess of all religion. Yes, de Lord answered my prayer dat time, wid de aid of de switches.â€
Whether Mingo’s conversion of his daughter kept her from joining the Episcopalians, on her return to Philadelphia, or not, I have not learned.
Themoral and social degradation of the colored population of the Southern States, is attributable to two main causes, their mode of living, and their religion. In treating upon thesecauses, and especially the latter, I feel confident that I shall throw myself open to the criticism of a numerous, if not an intelligent class of the people upon whom I write. The entire absence of a knowledge of the laws of physiology, amongst the colored inhabitants of the South is proverbial. Their small unventilated houses, in poor streets and dark alleys, in cities and towns, and the poorly-built log huts in the country, are often not fit for horses. A room fifteen feet square, with two, and sometimes three beds, and three or four in a bed, is common in Tennessee.
No bathing conveniences whatever, and often not a wash dish about the house, is the rule. The most inveterate eaters in the world, yet these people have no idea of cooking outside of hog, hominy, corn bread, and coffee. Yes, there is one more dish, it is the negro’s sun-flower in the South, cabbages.
It is usual to see a woman coming from the market about five o’clock in the evening, with a basket under her shawl, and in it a piece of pork, bacon, or half a hog’s head, and one or two large heads of cabbage, and some sweet potatoes. These are put to cook at once, and the odor from the boiling pot may be snuffed in some distance off.
Generous to a fault, the host invites all who call in, to “stop to supper.†They sit down to the table at about nine o’clock, spend fully an hour over the first course, then the apple dumplings, after that, the coffee and cake. Very few vegetables, except cabbages and sweet potatoes, are ever usedby these people. Consequently they are not unfrequently ill from a want of the knowledge of the laws of health. The assembling of large numbers in the cities and towns has proved fatal.
Nearly all the statistics relating to the subject now accessible are those coming from the larger Southern cities, and these would seem to leave no doubt that in such centres of population the mortality of the colored greatly exceeds that of the white race. In Washington, for instance, where the negroes have enjoyed longer and more privileges than in most Southern cities, the death-rate per thousand in the year 1876 was for the whites 26.537; for the colored 49.294; and for the previous year it was a little worse for the blacks. In Baltimore, a very healthy city, the total death-rate for 1875 was 21.67 in one thousand, of which the whites showed 19.80, the colored 34.42. In a still healthier little city, Chattanooga, Tenn., the statistics of the last five years give the death-rate of the whites at 19.9; of the colored, 37. The very best showing for the latter, singularly enough, is made in Selma, Ala. It stands per one thousand, white, 14.28; colored, 18.88. In Mobile, in the same State, the mortality of the colored was just about double the rate among the whites. New Orleans for 1875 gives the record of 25.45 for the death-rate of the whites, to 39.69 for that of the colored.
Lecturers of their own race, male and female, upon the laws of health, is the first move needed.
After settling the question with his bacon andcabbage, the next dearest thing to a colored man, in the South, is his religion. I call it a “thing,†because they always speak of getting religion as if they were going to market for it.
“You better go an’ get religion, dat’s what you better do, fer de devil will be arter you one of dees days, and den whar will yer be?†said an elderly Sister, who was on her way to the “Revival,†at St. Paul’s, in Nashville, last winter. The man to whom she addressed these words of advice stopped, raised his hat, and replied:
“Anty, I ain’t quite ready to-night, but I em gwine to get it before the meetins close, kase when that getting-up day comes, I want to have the witness; that I do.â€
“Yes, yer better, fer ef yer don’t, dar’ll be a mighty stir ’mong de brimstone down dar, dat dey will, fer yer’s bin bad nuff; I knows yer fum A to izzard,†returned the old lady.
The church was already well filled, and the minister had taken his text. As the speaker warmed up in his subject, the Sisters began to swing their heads and reel to and fro, and eventually began a shout. Soon, five or six were fairly at it, which threw the house into a buzz. Seats were soon vacated near the shouters, to give them more room, because the women did not wish to have their hats smashed in by the frenzied Sisters. As a woman sprung up in her seat, throwing up her long arms, with a loud scream, the lady on the adjoining seat quickly left, and did not stop till she got to a safe distance.
“Ah, ha!†exclaimed a woman near by, “’fraid of your new bonnet! Ain’t got much religion, I reckon. Specks you’ll have to come out of that if you want to save your soul.â€
“She thinks more of that hat now, than she does of a seat in heaven,†said another.
“Never mind,†said a third, “when she gets de witness, she’ll drap dat hat an’ shout herself out of breath.â€
The shouting now became general; a dozen or more entering into it most heartily. These demonstrations increased or abated, according to movements of the leaders, who were in and about the pulpit; for the minister had closed his discourse, and first one, and then another would engage in prayer. The meeting was kept up till a late hour, during which, four or five sisters becoming exhausted, had fallen upon the floor and lay there, or had been removed by their friends.
St. Paul is a fine structure, with its spire bathed in the clouds, and standing on the rising land in South Cherry Street, it is a building that the citizens may well be proud of.
In the evening I went to the First Baptist Church, in Spruce Street. This house is equal in size and finish to St. Paul. A large assembly was in attendance, and a young man from Cincinnati was introduced by the pastor as the preacher for the time being. He evidently felt that to set a congregation to shouting, was the highest point to be attained, and he was equal to the occasion. Failing to raise agood shout by a reasonable amount of exertion, he took from his pocket a letter, opened it, held it up and began, “When you reach the other world you’ll be hunting for your mother, and the angel will read from this paper. Yes, the angel will read from this paper.â€
For fully ten minutes the preacher walked the pulpit, repeating in a loud, incoherent manner, “And the angel will read from this letter.†This created the wildest excitement, and not less than ten or fifteen were shouting in different parts of the house, while four or five were going from seat to seat shaking hands with the occupants of the pews. “Let dat angel come right down now an’ read dat letter,†shouted a Sister, at the top of her voice. This was the signal for loud exclamations from various parts of the house. “Yes, yes, I want’s to hear the letter.†“Come, Jesus, come, or send an angel to read the letter.†“Lord, send us the power.†And other remarks filled the house. The pastor highly complimented the effort, as one of “great power,†which the audience most cordially endorsed. At the close of the service the strange minister had hearty shakes of the hand from a large number of leading men and women of the church. And this was one of the most refined congregations in Nashville.
It will be difficult to erase from the mind of the negro of the South, the prevailing idea that outward demonstrations, such as, shouting, the loud “amen,†and the most boisterous noise in prayer, are not necessary adjuncts to piety.
A young lady of good education and refinement, residing in East Tennessee, told me that she had joined the church about a year previous, and not until she had one shouting spell, did most of her Sisters believe that she had “the Witness.â€
“And did you really shout?†I inquired.
“Yes. I did it to stop their mouths, for at nearly every meeting, one or more would say, ‘Sister Smith, I hope to live to see you show that you’ve got the Witness, for where the grace of God is, there will be shouting, and the sooner you comes to that point the better it will be for you in the world to come.’â€
To get religion, join a benevolent society that will pay them “sick dues†when they are ill, and to bury them when they die, appears to be the beginning, the aim, and the end of the desires of the colored people of the South. In Petersburg I was informed that there were thirty-two different secret societies in that city, and I met persons who held membership in four at the same time. While such associations are of great benefit to the improvident, they are, upon the whole, very injurious. They take away all stimulus to secure homes and to provide for the future.
As a man observed to me, “I b’longs ter four s’ieties, de ‘Samaritans,’ de ‘Gallalean Fisherman,’ de ‘Sons of Moses,’ an’ de ‘Wise Men of de East.’ All of dees pays me two dollars a week when I is sick, an’ twenty-five dollars ter bury me when I dies. Now ain’t dat good?â€
I replied that I thought it would be far better, if he put his money in a home and educated himself.
“Well,†said he, “I is satisfied, kas, ef I put de money in a house, maybe when I got sick some udder man might be hangin’ roun’ wantin’ me ter die, an’ maybe de ole ’oman might want me gone too, an’ not take good kere of me, an’ let me die an’ let de town bury me. But, now, yer see, de s’iety takes kere of me and burries me. So, now, I am all right fer dis worl’ an’ I is got de Witness, an’ dat fixes me fer hebben.â€
This was all said in an earnest manner, showing that the brother had an eye to business.
The determination of late years to ape the whites in the erection of costly structures to worship in, is very injurious to our people. In Petersburg, Va., a Baptist society pulled down a noble building, which was of ample size, to give place to a more fashionable and expensive one, simply because a sister Church had surpassed them in putting up a house of worship. It is more consistent with piety and Godly sincerity to say that we don’t believe there is any soul-saving and God-honoring element in such expensive and useless ornaments to houses in which to meet and humbly worship in simplicity and sincerity the true and living God, according to his revealed will. Poor, laboring people who are without homes of their own, and without (in many instances) steady remunerative employment, can ill afford to pay high for useless and showy things that neither instruct nor edify them. The manner, too, in which the money is raised, is none of the best, to say the least of it. For most of the money, both to build the churchesand to pay the ministers, is the hard earnings of men in the fields, at service, or by our women over the wash-tub. When our people met and worshipped in less costly and ornamental houses, their piety and sincerity was equally as good as now, if not better. With more polish within and less ornament without, we would be more spiritually and less worldly-minded.
Revival meetings, and the lateness of the hours at which they close, are injurious to both health and morals. Many of the churches begin in October, and continue till the holidays; and commencing again the middle of January, they close in April. They often keep the meetings in till eleven o’clock; sometimes till twelve; and in some country places, they have gone on later. I was informed of a young woman who lost her situation—a very good one—because the family could not sit up till twelve o’clock every night to let her in, and she would not leave her meeting so as to return earlier. Another source of moral degradation lies in the fact that a very large number of men, calling themselves “missionaries,†travel the length and breadth of the country, stopping longest where they are best treated. The “missionary†is usually armed with a recommendation from some minister in charge, or has a forged one, it makes but little difference which. He may be able to read enough to line a hymn, but that is about all.
His paper that he carries speaks of him as a man “gifted in revival efforts,†and he at once sets about getting up a revival meeting. This tramp, for hecannot be called anything else, has with him generally a hymn-book, and an old faded, worn-out carpet-bag, with little or nothing in it. He remains in a place just as long as the people will keep him, which usually depends upon his ability to keep up an excitement. I met a swarm of these lazy fellows all over the South, the greatest number, however, in West Virginia.
The only remedy for this great evil lies in an educated ministry, which is being supplied to a limited extent. It is very difficult, however, to induce the uneducated, superstitious masses to receive and support an intelligent Christian clergyman.
The great interest felt in the South for education amongst the colored people often produce scenes of humor peculiar to the race. Enjoying the hospitality of a family in West Virginia, I was not a little amused at the preparation made for the reception of their eldest son, who had been absent six months at Wilberforce College. A dinner with a turkey, goose, pair of fowls, with a plentiful supply of side dishes, and apple dumplings for dessert, was on the table at the hour that the son was expected from the train.
An accident delayed the cars to such an extent that we were at the table and dinner half through, when suddenly the door flew open, and before us stood the hope of the family. The mother sprang up, raised her hands and exclaimed, “Well, well, ef dar ain’t Peter, now. De Lord bress dat chile, eh, an’ how college-like he seems. Jess look at him,don’t he look edecated? Come right here dis minit an’ kiss your mammy.â€
During this pleasant greeting, Peter stood near the door where he had entered; dressed in his college rig, small cap on his head, bag swung at his side, umbrella in the left hand, and a cigar in the right, with a smile on his countenance, he looked the very personification of the Harvard student. The father of the family, still holding his knife and fork, sat with a glow upon his face, while the two youngsters, taking advantage of the occasion, were helping themselves to the eatables.
At the bidding, “Come an’ kiss your mammy,†Peter came forward and did the nice thing to all except the youngest boy, who said, “I can’t kiss yer now, Pete, wait till I eat dees dumplins, den I’ll kiss yer.â€
Dinner over, and Peter gave us some humorous accounts of college life, to the great delight of his mother, who would occasionally exclaim, “Bress de chile, what a hard time he muss hab dar at de college. An’ how dem boys wory’s him. Well, people’s got to undergo a heap to git book larnin’, don’t dey?â€
At night the house was filled, to see the young man from college.
Inthe olden time, ere a blow was struck in the Rebellion, the whites of the South did the thinking,and the blacks did the work; the master planned, and the slave executed. This unfitted both for the new dispensation that was fast coming, and left each helpless, without the other.
But the negro was the worst off of the two, for he had nothing but his hands, while the white man had his education, backed up by the lands that he owned. Who can wonder at the negro’s improvidence and his shiftlessness, when he has never had any systematic training—never been compelled to meet the cares of life?
This was the black man’s misfortune on gaining his freedom, and to learn to save, and to manage his own affairs, appeared to all to be his first duty.
The hope of every one, therefore, seemed to centre in the Freedman’s Saving Bank. “This is our bank,†said they; and to this institution the intelligent and the ignorant, the soldier fresh from the field of battle, the farmer, the day laborer, and the poor washerwoman, all alike brought their earnings and deposited them in the Freedman’s Bank. This place of safety for their scanty store seemed to be the hope of the race for the future. It was a stimulus for a people who had never before been permitted to enter a moneyed institution, except at his master’s heels, to bring or to take away the bag of silver that his owner was too proud or too lazy to “tote.â€
So great was the negro’s wish to save, that the deposits in the Freedman’s Bank increased from three hundred thousand dollars, in 1866, to thirty-one million dollars, in 1872, and to fifty-five milliondollars, in 1874. This saving of earnings became infectious throughout the South, and the family that had no bank-book was considered poorly off. These deposits were the first instalments toward purchasing homes, or getting ready to begin some mercantile or mechanical business. The first announcement, therefore, of the closing of the Freedman’s Saving Bank had a paralyzing effect upon the blacks everywhere.
Large numbers quit work; the greater portion sold their bank-books for a trifle, and general distrust prevailed throughout the community. Many who had purchased small farms, or cheap dwellings in cities and towns, and had paid part of the purchase money, now became discouraged, surrendered their claims, gave up the lands, and went about as if every hope was lost. It was their first and their last dealings with a bank.
These poor people received no sympathy whatever, from the whites of the South. Indeed, the latter felt to rejoice, for the negro obtained his liberty through the Republican party, and the Freedmen’s Bank was a pet of that party.
The negro is an industrious creature, laziness is not his chief fault, and those who had left their work, returned to it. But the charm for saving was gone.
“No more Banks for me, I’ll use my money as I get it, and then I’ll know where it has gone to,†said an intelligent and well-informed colored man to me.
This want of confidence in the saving institutionsof the country, has caused a general spending of money as soon as obtained; and railroad excursions, steamboat rides, hiring of horses and buggies on Sabbath, and even on week days, have reaped large sums from colored people all over the South. Verily, the failure of the Freedman’s Saving Bank was a National calamity, the influence of which will be felt for many years.
Not satisfied with robbing the deluded people out of the bulk of their hard earnings, commissioners were appointed soon after the failure, with “appropriate†salaries, to look after the interest of the depositors, and these leeches are eating up the remainder.
Whether truly or falsely, the freedmen were led to believe that the United States Government was responsible to them for the return of their money with interest. Common justice would seem to call for some action in the matter.
Thosewho recollect the standing of Virginia in days gone by, will be disappointed in her at the present time. The people, both white and black, are poor and proud, all living on their reputation when the “Old Dominion†was considered the first State in the Union.
I viewed Richmond with much interest. The effect of the late Rebellion is still visible everywhere,and especially amongst those who were leaders in society thirty years ago. I walked through the market and observed several men with long, black cloth cloaks, beneath which was a basket. Into this they might be seen to deposit their marketing for the day.
I noticed an old black man bowing very gracefully to one of these individuals, and I inquired who he was. “Ah, massa,†said the negro, “dat is Major ----, he was berry rich before de war, but de war fotch him right down, and now he ain’t able to have servants, and he’s too proud to show his basket, so he covers it up in his cloak.†And then the black man smiled and shook his head significantly, and walked on. Standing here in the market place, one beholds many scenes which bring up the days of slavery as seen by the results. Here is a girl with a rich brown skin; after her comes one upon whose cheek a blush can just be distinguished; and I saw one or two young women whose cream-like complexion would have justly excited the envy of many a New York belle. The condition of the women of the latter class is most deplorable. Beautiful almost beyond description, many of them educated and refined, with the best white blood of the South in their veins, it is perhaps only natural that they should refuse to mate themselves with coarse and ignorant black men. Socially, they are not recognized by the whites; they are often without money enough to buy the barest necessaries of life; honorably they can never procure sufficient means togratify their luxurious tastes; their mothers have taught them how to sin; their fathers they never knew; debauched white men are ever ready to take advantage of their destitution, and after living a short life of shame and dishonor they sink into early and unhallowed graves. Living, they were despised by whites and blacks alike; dead, they are mourned by none.
I went to hear the somewhat celebrated negro preacher, Rev. John Jasper. The occasion was one of considerable note, he having preached, and by request, a sermon to prove that the “Sun do move,†and now he was to give it at the solicitation of forty-five members of the Legislature, who were present as hearers.
Those who wanted the sermon repeated were all whites, a number of whom did it for the fun that they expected to enjoy, while quite a respectable portion, old fogy in opinion, felt that the preacher was right.
On reaching the church, I found twelve carriages and two omnibuses, besides a number of smaller vehicles, lining the street, half an hour before the opening of the doors. However, the whites who had come in these conveyances had been admitted by the side doors, while the streets were crowded with blacks and a poorer class of whites.
By special favor I was permitted to enter before the throng came rushing in. Members of the Legislature were assigned the best seats, indeed, the entire centre of the house was occupied by whites, who,I was informed, were from amongst the F. F. Vs. The church seats one thousand, but it is safe to say that twelve hundred were present at that time.
Rev. John Jasper is a deep black, tall, and slim, with long arms and somewhat round-shouldered, and sixty-five years old. He has preached in Richmond for the last forty-five years, and is considered a very good man. He is a fluent speaker, well versed in Scriptures, and possesses a large amount of wit. The members of Jasper’s church are mainly freedmen, a large number of whom are from the country, commonly called “corn-field niggers.â€
The more educated class of the colored people, I found, did not patronize Jasper. They consider him behind the times, and called him “old fogy.†Jasper looked proudly upon his audience, and well he might, for he had before him some of the first men and women of Virginia’s capital. But these people had not come to be instructed, they had really come for a good laugh and were not disappointed.
Jasper had prepared for the occasion, and in his opening service saved himself by calling on “Brother Scogin†to offer prayer. This venerable Brother evidently felt the weight of responsibility laid upon him, and discharged the duty, at least to the entire satisfaction of those who were there to be amused. After making a very sensible prayer, Scogin concluded as follows:—“O Lord, we’s a mighty abused people, we’s had a hard time in slavery, we’s been all broken to pieces, we’s bow-legged, knock-kneed,bandy-shanked, cross-eyed, and a great many of us is hump-backed. Now, Lord, we wants to be mendid up, an’ we wants you to come an’ do it. Don’t send an angel, for dis is too big a job for an angel. You made us, O Lord, an’ you know our wants, an’ you can fix us up as nobody else can. Come right down yourself, and come quickly.†At this sentence Jasper gave a loud groan, and Scogin ceased. After service was over I was informed that when Jasper finds any of his members a little too long-winded in prayer, singing, or speaking, he gives that significant groan, which they all well understand. It means “enough.â€
The church was now completely jammed, and it was said that two thousand people sought admission in vain. Jasper’s text was “God is a God of War.†The preacher, though wrong in his conclusions, was happy in his quotations, fresh in his memory, and eloquently impressed his views upon his hearers.
He said, “If the sun does not move, why did Joshua command it to ‘stand still?’ Was Joshua wrong? If so, I had rather be wrong with Joshua than to be right with the modern philosophers. If this earth moves, the chimneys would be falling, tumbling in upon the roofs of the houses, the mountains and hills would be changing and levelling down, the rivers would be emptying out. You and I would be standing on our heads. Look at that mountain standing out yonder; it stood there fifty years ago when I was a boy. Would it be standing there if the earth was running round as they tell us?â€
“No, blessed God,†cried a Sister. Then the laugh came, and Jasper stood a moment with his arms folded. He continued: “The sun rises in the east and sets in the west; do you think any one can make me believe that the earth can run around the world in a single day so as to give the sun a chance to set in the west?â€
“No, siree, that doctrine don’t go down with Jasper.â€
At this point the preacher paused for breath, and I heard an elderly white in an adjoining pew, say, in a somewhat solemn tone—“Jasper is right, the sun moves.â€
Taking up his bandanna, and wiping away the copious perspiration that flowed down his dusky cheeks, the preacher opened a note which had just been laid upon the desk, read it, and continued,—“A question is here asked me, and one that I am glad to answer, because a large number of my people, as well as others, can’t see how the children of Israel were able to cross the Red Sea in safety, while Pharaoh and his hosts were drowned. I have told you again and again that everything was possible with God. But that don’t seem to satisfy you.
“Those who doubt these things that you read in Holy Writ are like the infidel,—won’t believe unless you can see the cause. Well, let me tell you. The infidel says that when the children of Israel crossed the Red Sea, it was in winter, and the sea was frozen over. This is a mistake, or an intentional misrepresentation.†Here the preacher gavevivid accounts of the sufferings and flight of the children of Israel, whose case he likened to the colored people of the South. The preacher wound up with an eloquent appeal to his congregation not to be led astray by “these new-fangled notions.â€
Great excitement is just now taking hold of the people upon the seeming interest that the colored inhabitants are manifesting in the Catholic religion. The Cathedral in Richmond is thrown open every Sunday evening to the blacks, when the bishop himself preaches to them, and it is not strange that the eloquent and persuasive voice of Bishop Kean, who says to the negro, “My dear beloved brethren,†should captivate these despised people. I attended a meeting at the large African Baptist Church, where the Rev. Moses D. Hoge, D. D., was to preach to the colored people against Catholicism. Dr. Hoge, though noted for his eloquence, and terribly in earnest, could not rise higher in his appeals to the blacks than to say “men and women†to them.
The contrast was noticeable to all. After hearing Dr. Hoge through I asked an intelligent colored man how he liked his sermon. His reply was: “If Dr. Hoge is in earnest, why don’t he open his own church and invite us in and preach to us there? Before he can make any impression on us, he must go to the Catholic Church and learn the spirit of brotherly love.â€
One Sunday, Bishop Kean said to the colored congregation, numbering twelve hundred, who had come to hear him: “There are distinctions in thebusiness and in the social world, but there are no distinctions in the spiritual. A soul is a soul before God, may it be a black or a white man’s. God is no respecter of persons, the Christian Church cannot afford to be. The people who would not let you learn to read before the war, are the ones now that accuse me of trying to use you for political purposes.
“Now, my dear beloved brethren, when I attempt to tell you how to vote, you need not come to hear me preach any more.â€
The blacks have been so badly treated in the past that kind words and social recognition will do much to win them in the future, for success will not depend so much upon their matter as upon their manner; not so much upon their faith as upon the more potent direct influence of their practice. In this the Catholics of the South have the inside track, for the prejudice of the Protestants seems in a fair way to let the negro go anywhere except to heaven, if they have to go the same way.