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Unwritten History:
Electronic Edition.

Coppin, Levi Jenkins, 1848-1923

Funding from the Library of Congress/Ameritech National Digital Library Competition supported the electronic publication of this title.

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First edition, 2000
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Academic Affairs Library, UNC-CH
University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill,
2000.

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Source Description:
(title page) Unwritten History
Bishop L. J. Coppin
375 p., ill.
Philadelphia, PA.
A. M. E. Book Concern
1919
BX8495 .C6 H3 (Rare Book Collection, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill)

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Library of Congress Subject Headings, 21st edition, 1998

Languages Used:

LC Subject Headings:

Revision History:

        

        

UNWRITTEN HISTORY

BY

BISHOP L. J. COPPIN
Author: The Relation of Baptized Children to the Church;
Key to Scripture Interpretation; Observations of
Persons and Things in South Africa;
Fifty-two Suggestive Sermon
Syllabi. Etc.

A. M. E. BOOK CONCERN
PHILADELPHIA, PA.
Page verso

(Copyright, 1919, by L. J. COPPIN)

Page 3

PREFACE

        Intermingled with this "Unwritten History" is the story of my life. Being all from memory, except here and there the verification of a date, there may be some repetitions. Of course much of the "Story" is omitted, but, things that impressed me most, and facts that seem to me most important among the "Unwritten" things, are noted. Those who are fond of reading novels about men who never lived, and things that never did and never will happen, may enjoy a change to something that is historical and real. If the example of some of the worthy ones mentioned inspires someone else, the object of the author is accomplished.

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CONTENTS

UNWRITTEN HISTORY

Page 7

CHAPTER I.

Birth and Boyhood.

        It was at Frederick Town, Maryland. Be sure and distinguish between Frederick in Western Maryland, and Frederick Town on the Eastern Shore.

         It makes all the difference in the world to an Eastern Shore man. You may call the difference only sentimental, but Frederick Douglass was born there. To be sure, Benjaman Banneker was born on the Western side of the famous Chesapeake Bay.

         Perhaps Bishop A. W. Wayman more than any one else, advertised the Eastern Shore as the "Garden Spot of the World."

         It is indented with rivers that flow into the Chesapeake Bay. These rivers are full of fish, oysters and crabs. At some points along the

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Bay, the fishing and crabbing are perennial. Shad, and herring in the Spring; crabs, hard and soft shell, in the Summer; oysters in the Winter, and fish of various kinds the year 'round.

         All of the "Eastern Shore" is not in Maryland. Virginia claims a part of this modern "Promised Land." So, the expression goes; "the Eastern Shore of Maryland and the Eastern Shore of Virginia," with Maryland always first; for the collossal figure of Frederick Douglass in Maryland is bound to loom up.

         Frederick Town is on the Sassafras river, the boundary line between the counties of Kent and Cecil--English names.

         This little stream, as clear as crystal, forms the Southern boundary of Cecil, the northernmost county on the Eastern Shore.

         Frederick Town, once an active lumber and grain market, nestles on the banks of the Sassafras, just five miles from its head, where is a town known as "Head of Sassafras," made more or less famous by the grist mill that stands, or stood--at the falls, where the rushing waters tumble into the river, after turning the mill wheel day and night. Upper Cecil and Kent patronize this mill for miles around.

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         Some of my earliest and most pleasant recollections are, of going with "Billy Cannan" to "Freemans Mill." We drove the big black horse, Jim, when we did as we were told. He was blind in one eye, "as big as a barrell" as round as an apple, and as fat as butter. A kind and safe driving horse for boys, and as fine a saddle horse as there ever was in "Sassafras Neck." But if we boys could catch the old man King "napping" we would hitch up Dandy, a fine looking spirited bay, and slip away to the mill.

         Opposite Frederick Town, Cecil County, is Georgetown, Kent County. These were rival grain markets.

         Sailing crafts plied the river from both sides with grain, principally wheat and corn, from early fall until the river became frozen over. In mid-summer, the Delaware and Chesapeake Canal steamers would come up for peaches. Besides these, a flat bottom side wheel steamer ran every summer between Frederick Town and Baltimore, sixty miles away, carrying passengers and light freight to the merchants, country store keepers, of Galena and George-Town of Kent, and Cecilton and Frederick Town of Cecil; and passengers back and forth.

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         These boats looked large to me. They were the first I ever saw. I went on one of them, a sailing craft, to Baltimore when about seven years of age. Baltimore was the first city I ever saw. Our goodly ship (?) dropped anchor in the busy Patapsico river, amid scores and scores of steam and sailing crafts, river boats, coast wise and ocean steamers, and ships and brigs, and tugs. What a sight to a pair of young country eyes! Three score years, as full as they have been of travel and sight seeing, have not been sufficient to obliterate the scenes of the Patapsico harbor, nor to wipe out the impression made, upon my first visit there.

         My mother took me there. A wonderful mother! Great men are not the only men who have great mothers. Some obscure men who have not been much more known in the world's great movements, than a match that starts a blaze and immediately perishes, have also had great mothers.

         The light of John the Baptist was cruelly blown out before he saw the fruit of his labor; but, the Kingdom he proclaimed is still marching on. St. Luke tells us about his mother.

         We know about the mother of Moses, and Timothy and Samuel, and John Wesley and

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others; but, there are unknown mothers whose sons, breathing their spirit, inheriting their nobility of soul, and becoming the heirs and beneficiaries of their faith and prayers, have helped to make up "the salt of the earth," both upon the mountain top of fame, and in the vale of obscurity.

         There were seven of us children, four boys and three girls. The most of us were born "on the hill" in Frederick Town.

         Abraham Lincoln gave character to the log cabin. When ex-Vice President Fairbanks died--June, 1918, the Press referred to him as "the last of the famous Log Cabin Statesmen."

         Since America's most famous could come from log cabins, it has become popular to refer to these primitive dwelling places of earth's lowly, as a birth place. All the same, this is not the way of the world's desire, preferably.

         We speak of a mother's love, but mothers have instinct also. Perhaps it is inspired vision.

         What is it that could make a mother persist in clandestinely having her child taught to read and write when there was no visible prospect whatever of it ever being of service

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to him; and, besides, when, it being in violation of the law, it could only be done at a peril.

         My maternal grandmother was free born, while her husband, Perry Lilly, was a slave. Alas! a slave! A slave in a country whose citizenship was made up of those who fled from oppression, and fought, and bled, and died for liberty!

         Children took the condition of their mother. This was the surest way to perpetuate slavery where the masters were so plentifully the fathers. For this reason many a slave man married a free woman, that his children might be free.

         Many slave men, veritable heroes, purchased their freedom by working by day for their masters, and by night for themselves; hiring their time, etc.

         Many a free man married a slave woman because he loved her, and purchased her and her children.

         My grandmother being free, the Lilly children were free born, and John Coppin, also free born, married Jane, one of the Lilly girls.

         There was a large family of them; all girls but one. They got the reputation of being the best girls in the neighborhood, and my

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Aunt Clara told me that they called themselves "the Shoestring Breed."

         The girls all married free men, and grandfather, Perry Lilly, was "set free" before the Emancipation, on account of meritorious service. But he was about through serving by that time anyway.

         His wife Amelia, had passed away, and he had a few years left to enjoy life with his children and grandchildren. I remember the visit he made to our home. I do not remember my grandmother.

         The parentage of my father is not so easily traced. I do not, even now, see many Coppins in the directories and 'phone books.

         In a visit to Covington, Kentucky, when Editor of the A. M. E. Review, I saw on a sign over a large store: "John Coppin." That was my father's name. I had never seen or heard of it outside of the family. I immediately went in and asked for "Mr. Coppin," and purchased a souvenir from the store.

         In a rather lengthy conversation with him, for we became interested in each other, on account of the name, he gave me some facts about the history of the name. He said it was of German origin, and was primarily Coppenger. Coming to England the "ger" was

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dropped. Coming to America the "en" was changed to "in," or "pen" to "pin," thus Coppin.

         As soon as he told me that, I began to account for the friendship, peculiar friendship that existed between our family and the only Coppins I ever knew outside of our family. James Coppin, a white man, was a bachelor, with one sister, Araminta. She married Robert Price. I think now that she and her brother Jim knew more about the origin of our father than they ever told us.

         "Miss Minty," as we children called her, would think nothing of taking us into her home and seating us at her table. This was contrary to the unwritten law of Maryland.

         Well, if we are of German origin, this is not the most auspicious time to look it up, while the Kaiser is in such disfavor.

         When I became old enough to really appreciate the greatness of my mother, who despite my lowly birth, planned for my future, on blind faith, I went to the site of the homestead to get a souvenir, from one of the logs of the house in which I was born. A new house stood on the spot. "Aunt Caroline" went behind the house in search of a log that

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might still remain, but, was doomed to disappointment.

         However, that is the spot. The pear tree has long since ceased to exist. The old well, as dear to us as was Jacob's well, to his posterity, is filled up, but a sunken place in the ground, a few paces from what was the northwest corner of the dear old house, tells the story.

         My mother always referred to me as her "Christmas gift." I was born between sundown, December 24th and daybreak, December 25th.

         We had no clock in the house, and the people in those days did not go to bed at all on "Christmas Eve Night," and it may have been after midnight when I came. But the record in the old family Bible says:

         "Levi Jenkins Coppin, born December 24th, 1848." The "Christmas gift" idea is all right, for Santa Claus is always credited with coming at night and not in the morning.

         No one can ever know exactly just what a mother is thinking about her children, or why she does this thing or that.

         The sentiment that clustered about the time of my birth enabled mother to observe the day with a "birthday dinner" without seeming to

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show partiality. Neither did any of the other children ever show the least dissatisfaction because the "fatted calf" was killed only once a year.

         I discovered early in life that I was always the one called up when company came to "speak a piece," and to tell what day of the month it was; and later on to get down the Farmers' Almanac, and tell about the "full and changes of the moon." Tell about the man standing there with "Pharaoh's plagues" all around him, punching him; and to read, to the admiration of the listening hosts, "conjectures of the weather." With an eloquence that held all spellbound, I would cry out, "first and second, clear; third and fourth, cloudy; fifth and sixth, variable; seventh and eighth, showers, etc."

         Grandmother Lilly discovered an aptness about Jane, that the other children did not possess, and slipped her off to Baltimore.

         Baltimore being in the State of Maryland, "free Negroes" from other parts of the State might go and come freely, so long as there was no suspicion of an ulterior motive.

         If such a person was suspected of whispering to the slaves, or, clandestinely conveying passes, an accusation was equivalent to conviction,

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and for such a crime the offender could be sold to the highest bidder outside of the State and henceforth made a slave.

         It is no wonder that so few would undertake to "run the blockade." Runaway slaves, if captured, were entirely at the mercy of the master. The other slaves were made to form a cordon, while the culprit, in the midst, received such punishment as was thought best to terrify the other slaves.

         Sometimes it would be a terrible castigation from the overseer. Sometimes the wife, or husband, or child of the victim would be selected to apply the punishment.

         I heard of a case once, where the victim was cut up piece by piece and fed to the bloodhounds. And so it required a great deal of courage for a slave to run away, or, for a "free nigger" to be caught learning to read and write, for he would be accused of preparing to write passes for slaves in the name of their masters.

         Amelia Lilly was willing to take so great a risk as this with her most likely child, and so, Jane was sent to Baltimore, ostensibly to live with her aunt, Lucy Harding, but, in fact, it was that her Aunt Lucy might find some one

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who would teach her to read and write; and so she did.

         When mother came home on a visit one time, father, a man of taste and good judgment soon discovered that she was above the mark set by the custom of the place, and so, was bold and daring enough to seek her heart and hand, and not in vain.

         What gave him an idea that he was worthy of the foremost young woman in Cecil County, so granted by common consent, no one knows.

         Why not be wooed and won by a Baltimore lad, who could boast at least of having "city ways," a thing quite unknown to a "country clodhopper." Well, it is hard to tell just how far presumptuousness will go when once started. It may even be inherited.

         Father had a habit of consulting mother on all important matters, and I think, generally took her advice. She was quick to reach a conclusion, and not easily changed from an opinion.

         There were two things upon which they did not entirely agree in the earlier days, at least of their married life. First, father could not see the wisdom of taking such risks as mother would take, to teach the children to read and

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write. Of what service could it ever be to them?

         The majority of the children held to the opinion of father, but the "Christmas baby" inclined to side with mother, and this fact made them early companions, much earlier than the average child is called into parental council.

         Another point on which father and mother differed somewhat was, father always regarded mother as being recklessly generous.

         Every old woman in the neighborhood formed a habit of visiting our home frequently, especially about hog-killing time.

         When the winter set in, and the visitors could not make their customary itinerary, we boys knew where they lived, and knew how to go and hunt them up, carrying the practical compliments of mother; and not make known where we had been and for what purpose, a fireside talk upon our return.

         Those dear old women would call mother "Cousin Jane." Father would speak derisively of such relationships, and characterized it as "swap dog kin."

         I have often heard mother say: "I shall never want for bread," and she did not.

        

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The philosophy of father was different. He thought the best way to keep away want was to kill several fat hogs; bury a plenty of potatoes and cabbages; dry and preserve much fruit; salt away a barrel of herrings and pile up cord after cord of wood at the "wood pile," and his theory was, let others do the same.

         My mother did not at all object to such a course, for she was hand in hand with him in providing. But she believed in sharing with others, especially the unfortunate and needy.

         I was sent to the store one cold day with orders to go by the little hut where "Aunt Ruthy" lived. This was not even "Swap dog" relation.

         The white people did not permit us to say "Mr." and "Mrs." to each other, so, the children, for "manner's sake," were taught to call the older people, "aunt" and "uncle."

         Well, I called as I was directed, at the house of "Aunt Ruthy." She was shivering before a few not very live coals, for, the wood must not be burned extravagantly. When I got ready to go, she said, "Leevie, tell your mother, while the grass grows, the steed is starving."

         I had never heard of a "steed" before, and thought "Aunt Ruthy" had surely made a mistake.

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And besides, I could not see how mother would make the application.

         So, to help mother out somewhat, I changed the phraseology a little, and said: "Aunt Ruthy says, while the grass grows the sheep are starving."

         I knew what a sheep was.

         A few minutes later I found myself on the way back to "Aunt Ruthy's" with a basket of meat and potatoes, from my father's smokehouse.

         That was the interpretation of the starving steed.

         In after years, father came to understand mother's philosophy better. When the opportunity unexpectedly came for the children to go to school, mother was not more anxious than father that we should go, and he also learned at last, that, they who sow bountifully, reap also bountifully.

        Mother was a Christian as far back as I can remember. The fact is, she embraced religion when a girl.

        The children, one by one, so soon as they could pronounce words, said prayers before going to bed, and said "thank the Lord" after each meal.

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        Father was not a churchman, though I never heard him swear. And not a child up to his manhood was ever allowed to swear before him.

        In this particular thing I was always like my father and have my first oath yet to swear. In this, I differed from the other boys.

        Father, as well as mother, despised lieing, stealing and drunkenness, and the weight of their influence, both by precept and example, was always in favor of a pure moral atmosphere in the home.

        But still, as my father made no profession of religion, and could not lead his household in family worship, it threw the burden of religious duty on mother.

        To neglect early religious training is to leave out that which is most important in the formative period of a life. And this is especially true of those, who, by social ostracism, are deprived of coming in contact with uplifting influence outside of the home.

        When the father is the patriarch, leading the family in daily devotions, it is not difficult to establish in the home a respect for morals and religion. But when the head of the house is not responsible for such law and order, the mother, in order to bring it about, must be

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unusually strong in personality, and courage, and faith.

        Some of my very earliest recollections are upon moral and religious subjects.

        My mother used to take me to church and have me sit in the "Amen corner" with her. I was too young to have any opinion about anything that took place. I remember that after preaching, class meeting would follow, and one after another would get up and speak. Mother would frequently sing between these speeches. She was the one who was really depended upon to sing at the "Meeting house."

        She had a clear, ringing voice, which could be detected above the other voices, no matter how large the chorus.

        She used to sing:


                         "John carried his number over."
                         Moses led the children home.
                         We'll join the forty thousand, by and by."

        And "We Are the True Born Sons of Levi," and many other like songs. Also the good old Methodist hymns, such as:

        "Am I a Soldier of the Cross?" "When I Can Read My Title Clear" and "O, Joyful Sound of Gospel Grace," "My God, the Spring

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of All My Joy." But whether on the make-as-you-go hymns or the standards, mother was quite at home, and was always in great demand.

        If the meeting became a little dull, the leader would call out, "Sister Coppin, sing something." No sooner would the words fall from his lips than that familiar voice would ring out, and soon things would be going at a lively pace.

        The old church leaders, as a rule, did not know many hymns by heart. They used to call them "hymes." My mother had this advantage of them, she could read, and would learn hymn after hymn, and sing them from memory.

        There was a Bible and hymn book in our home ever since I can remember any thing.

        Once, when mother took me to church--I must have been very small--I remember there was a little fat yellow woman who got very happy while singing a piece. The fact is, some of them would apparently get quite happy after the first or second verse, if that was all they knew; then some one else would have to catch it up and go on with it, if it went any further. This was one of "Uncle" Abe Kennard's tricks.

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        But, on this particular occasion, the singer was "Aunt" Fanny Bayard. There were two peculiarities about the song that so impressed me, that I still remember them vividly, namely:

        First, she sang so fast that no one could catch on and accompany her. Secondly, in her "Hallelujah" she repeated the "Halle," and would say:

        "We've found the rock, the traveler cried, Glory halle, hallelujah."

        As I remember now, she made only one double or single line and chorous, and that with such rapidity that no one got hold of the words or rhyme; then suddenly she exclaimed, "Glory to God, Glory to God!" and all was over.

        She was short and fat, and had what people called, "poppy eyes." I never did lose sight of her; and when I grew older, I came to know her well. She was a free woman, a widow with one daughter, Henrietta--"Henny" she called her--and lived in her own little house at Crooktown, near Cecilton.

        Crooktown and Perrytown were two little clusters of houses--huts--that were behind

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the woods that separated Cecilton from where the free colored people lived.

        There were not many families in these little settlements, but the woods, i. e., the grove, spoken of in another chapter, afforded a meeting place for our people, bond and free.

        After I visited South Africa, and saw some of the original Hottentots, I was led to believe that "Aunt" Fanny Bayard was one of them.

        The Hottentot is exactly the color of the Chinese; so was "Aunt" Fanny. They have little tufts of hair scattered about on their heads. I do not know what was on "Aunt" Fanny's head, except that kerchief, that I never saw her without.

        The Hottentot is said to live to a very old age. Well, "Aunt" Fanny and her daughter "Henny" lived to be very old. They were companions, and were nearly always together. The boys used to say that "Henny lived until she caught up with her mother."

        Henny got married late in life. I do not know whether this was her first husband or not, but one thing I do know, that she outlived him; but "Aunt" Fanny outlived her.

        When the little old hut was about to fall down on her, she made over the place to "Father Jones," and he built a little frame

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house on it, in which "Aunt" Fanny ended her days.

        Besides "Aunt" Fanny; Emory Sisco, John Hall and Benjamin Freeman lived in Crooktown. All of them free people.

        Living at Perrytown, which was but a few hundred yards from Crooktown, was a man named Perry Thompson. He was said to be a very wicked man.

        A man thus characterized by our people was one who would swear, drink whisky and perhaps gamble; one who never went to church. They were called hard-hearted sinners.

        Some of them were supposed to have "dealings" with the Devil. When such a person died, you could not get a neighborhood child to go any distance alone at night.

        The impression was, the devil had come for the wicked person, and was probably still sneaking about there in the darkness.

        This doctrine was quite generally believed by the older ones, and the children had no inclination to go out into the darkness and investigate it, in order to be convinced whether it was true or false.

        There was always a superstition that the death of such a person was accompanied by a

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storm, a terrible storm, preferably a snow storm.

        By some kind of coincidence, the biggest snow storm of the season often came at the time of the death of such persons.

        I remember the Perry Thompson snow storm. What a time they had getting him buried! These wicked people would often die swearing and raving, crying, "drive out them dogs."

        Of course, the modern physician can easily account for his delirious condition. But, even now, I have a lingering thought, that this doctrine of demoniacal visitation was so prevalent that some of those old sinners felt doomed, and just became mentally unbalanced in expectation of meeting their just deserts.

        In those days, you would often hear hymns like this:


                         "And must I be to judgement brought,
                         To answer in that day
                         For every vain and idle thought,
                         And every word I say?"


                         "Yes, every secret of my heart,
                         Shall surely be made known;
                         And I'll receive my just deserts,
                         For all that I have done."

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        German "higher criticism" was not much heard of then, neither was a world war!

         I do not claim to believe the many superstitions that I heard in my childhood, but I am glad that certain impressions were made upon me then, instead of some others that might have been made.

         I was well up in my teens before I found out that the devil did not come with a pitchfork after boys who would lie and steal, and swear and get drunk. But I was so long in finding out that he did not come and literally catch them, that, having formed the habit of shunning these forbidden things, I just considered that there were other good reasons why these practices should be avoided, and so went on avoiding them.

         When I was a child, they told me about "Kris Kringle," the country folks called him. I believed, with all my young, innocent heart, that such a person existed.

         Finally some "smarty" told me that there was no such person, and "let the cat out of the bag."

         But that is only half of the truth. The fact is that I am still afraid of the devil, whatever may be the reason for my fear.

         But since I have become grown, I have found that there is a Santa who fills the heart

Page 30

with love and sympathy, and especially, about the "Christmas season."

         No one shall ever again be able to convince me that no such spirit exists.

         Many other impressions made in boyhood, thanks to the simple faith of a pious mother, have saved me from the dashing currents of sin, by which I have seen others swept away.

         The history of the mothers of this period can never be known. The story of the Exodus from Egypt begins with the birth of Moses, and the mother who hid him until she could no longer do so with safety.

         Then the story of the basket of rushes, by which the babe of providence was floated on the water until found by the princess.

         Then the mother nurse, according to the mother plan. When it was time to hand him over to the adopted mother at the royal court, his own mother had made such lasting impressions upon him, that they proved stronger than the very strong temptation to "enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season."

         The writer of the Pentateuch gives us this story of a mother's love and wisdom and successful training.

         In both religious and secular history, we have the maternal part played in the world's

Page 31

history, until it is accepted as true that "the hand that rocks the cradle rules the world."

         The story of the mother of Moses is the oldest of such stories, and the scene was in Egypt, and Egypt is in Africa.

         But the bond woman brought from Africa had no one to write of her wisdom and heroism. Some things would be passed down by tradition from generation to generation and then be forgotten.

         With the unwritten history of the race is buried most of the best things that are really characteristic of the race originally.

         Two hundred and fifty years developed a new people, with new traditions, customs, morals and religion, copied from the dominant people of their new environment.

         But whether written or unwritten, the history of the African in America from 1619 to 1865, constitutes a most interesting chapter in the book of human events.

Page 32

CHAPTER II.

Social, Moral and Intellectual Conditions.

        Maryland--my Maryalnd--is the northernmost Southern State. Its northern boundary is the famous Mason and Dixon's Line.

         On account of its geographical location it is often erroneously referred to as a Northern State. But, not only did the earlier geographies class it as Southern, but it stood pat as such when it became the fashion to sub-divide the sections; as, for instance: "West and Middle West." Maryland never was classified with Delaware as a "Middle State." Mason and Dixon settled the question once and for all, and the Marylanders, bond and free, have never tried to blot out the line, nor to claim to have been born "further up."

         Being a Southern State, Maryland was a Slave State. The institution prospered there, as it did in Georgia, though no cotton was grown there.

        

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It may not be generally known that Maryland laws and customs were more oppressive to the slave and "Free Negro" than were the laws and customs of States farther south.

         For instance, Negroes in South Carolina have owned slaves; such a thing would never have been, and according to slave code philosophy --could never have been permitted in Maryland. Upper Maryland is on the line of Pennsylvania, the Quaker State; the hot-bed of abolition; the first state to protest mildly, then vigorously, against slavery, and then to deal it a death blow by becoming the headquarters and principal station of the Underground Railroad, and furnishing the principal officers of the line. When a few thousand were once offered for the head of "Thomie" Garrett, he said: "Five hundred slaves have passed through my hands, and never a one was captured." He was a Pennsylvania Quaker, conducting a sub-underground station in Wilmington, Del. The big barns of the Tatnals, just across the Bandywine, were often filled with fugitives, many of whom were of Thomie Garrett's "five hundred."

         The relation of Maryland, then, to free soil, and to the abolition propaganda, made it necessary for the slave owner, and the slave

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trader to keep a sharp watch on the border, and to keep the lines taut on the slave and the "free nigger." Each must know his place and never forget it, and each must be kept in mortal fear of the master, the trader, and the spy. A free Negro might not go out of the state and return under the penalty of being fined a sum that he would not be expected to be able to pay without the assistance of the Georgia trader, or the more humane (?) gentleman who would pay the fine, and give the victim a chance to work it out upon such terms as the benefactor dictated.

         Being so close to the line, a Maryland slave had to be constantly and closely watched lest he "run away." The farther one was removed from the North Star the more difficult it was to use it as a guide to freedom. The Underground Railroad could not operate freely in the far South, and so, the slaves stood a far better chance of being "Trusties."

         Some of the border line slave owners established a custom of whipping the slaves once a week, "every Monday morning," to keep them humble and in fear. Early in the morning, while the "Day Spring" stood as a silent witness, against the day when the cup of iniquity would be full, the cry of the

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slave would break the silence. "O massy, pray massy." while the lash of the slave driver played its nimble game upon his bareback. Sometimes to make humility and degradation reach their lowest possible depths, and to destroy the last vestige of personal rights, the slave husband would be made to "cow-hide" the slave wife.

         When, in spite of all the vigilance and cruelty that could be practiced, there were still some who were characterized as impudent, unruly or, likely to make their escape at some time, and therefore were dangerous to be among other slaves, they would be roped and sold to "Georgia traders." Not that all the traders were from Georgia, nor used that state exclusively as a market, but, the expression "Georgia Trader" became so common that many slaves, and ignorant whites did not know, or think of any other market. An ignorant mistress would indulge in the threat: "I'll make your master slash your back and sell you to Georgia."

         Nothing in these "unwritten pages" is intended to revive a feeling of hatred. We stand so far from the scenes herein described that no one is left to be hated and no one is left to hate. Both master and slave have long

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since passed away, and the generations then unborn are now upon the stage of action, with but a few connecting links. The real object is to show that even from this Egypt, came a Moses, a Joshua, A Miriam, of sable hue. Even from this Nazareth came some good thing.

         We can not even now appreciate the sterling virtue of our women, especially of the past, until we have been cited to the fact, that even in these times, not fully here described, only hinted at, when a woman as well as a man was her master's property just as was his horse and his dog, there were women, black women, slave women, who would stand up and fight the master to the death, and die virtuous. Or, if considered too valuable either to kill or to sell, would live to stand as examples of chastity such as the world never had seen, and to transmit their spirit and blood to posterity. The better knowledge a race has of its own virtues, the less likely it is to run away from itself, and the more determined it may become to strive for an honorable future.

         When freedom at last came, I had a strong desire to go to Georgia, and see some of the stock that I had been told went from Maryland.

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My desire was fully gratified in after years; for my good friend, Bishop Gaines, bade me welcome to his Conferences, year after year, as I traveled as a General Officer in the Church. And the men and women of Georgia, whether from Maryland or elsewhere, impressed me that they were of noble origin.

         A subject people, especially where slavery dominates, are so far removed from the ruling classes, that socially, they have nothing in common. The contact is as master and slave; as superior and inferior.

         In cases where the housemaid was daily with the members of the family and the guests who mingled with them, a difference could be seen in appearance and general deportment. Often the house girl at the Big House was the Lady at the Quarters. She wore the cast-off clothing of her mistress. In many cases, where the mistress was kindly disposed, she took especial pride in dressing her maid in such finery as to place her above the common lot; or, to make her outshine all the neighborhood house girls.

         You could tell the girls of "Miss Mary Cruikshanks." She had but one slave woman, Delia: her house girls were hired.

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After she established a reputation for bestowing so much thought and care upon her house girls, the mothers of free girls would seek to place their daughters in her household. I think now of two who came up under her care, Rebecca _____, and Julia _____.

         Being house girls these favored ones would pick up words and expressions that they would use in conversation, and therefore would be considered "smart" by the rank and file.

         "Miss Mary" also guarded the morals of her girls, and it was especially for that reason that free women sought to bring their girls under her influence and control, even if they had to "bind them out" to her for a term of years, to make it worth while for her to take them.

         But, "Miss Mary Cruikshank" was an exception to the rule. She lived in the village, Her husband was the leading cross roads store-keeper, and sold goods to colored as well as to white. He was a slave holder, but with only four slaves; "Uncle" Jim, Wes (Wesley), Theodore and "Aunt" Deley.

         The Cruikshanks were not the old slave-driving class. "Uncle" Jim and "Aunt" Deley were kept with the family in town, while Theodore and Wes were hired out to this and

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that neighborhood farmer. But the point in question is this: the colored were separated definitely and universally from the whites socially, and hence, permitted to live by such moral codes as originated at the quarters where the wheat and the tares grew together. To be more definite, the colored people were socially placed amid environments where there were no moral codes or restrictions.

         Hatched out in the same nests, brought up in a common brood, living and sleeping in the same single room huts--quarters--boys and girls alike grew up together about as the cattle did, with no moral guide or restraint except that which was given by nature.

         It was to the interest of the masters that their women servants became mothers. The more frequently, the better, as it multiplied their slaves, and hence their wealth.

         A boy who could boast of being a father while still in his teens, was considered worthy of a prize. The girl who was the mother of several children while yet unmarried, and that by different fathers, did not have to carry a "shame face."

         While such cases were numerous but one may be cited. A man named James _____, who lived in the Cruikshank village had one

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slave woman. She became the mother of four boys, with "sir names," respectively: Henson, Harding, Rice and Wilson. The first three grew to manhood and were rented out by the master, before the Civil War. The youngest of the three named entered the war in '63, while the fourth, a lad, with his older brothers, was set free by Lincoln's proclamation. The multiplication of slaves by illegitimate births was not left entirely to the slave men, but the masters and young masters supplemented their lack. But, whether by the blacks or the whites, the birth rate must be kept up.

         A man who passed through slavery and finished his years as a member of one of our churches in Philadelphia, relates a story about how he was selected by his master on account of being strong and healthy; relieved of the laborious work of the plantation, and named as the person to be the common law husband (?) of all the women on the place. If any refused to submit they were to be reported to their masters, who with a cat-of-nine tails would teach them how to obey any order that came down from him.

         Some masters were "mean and stingy" and did not give their slaves enough to eat, but would indirectly encourage them to steal from

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neighboring farmers. By "indirectly encouraging them," I mean they were never chastised for doing so. They had but to observe two rules: First, never steal from their master, and second, never get caught.

         What a comment on the present day criticism that brands the Negro as being dishonest as to the personal property of others, derelict as to his "promise to pay," and woefully wanting in his regard for sexual purity.

         The nameless crime; the crime that cannot be ascribed even to most of the lower animals, who mate, and fellowship only in season, is a crime unknown to the African before being brought into contact with that brand of civilization that is responsible for the World War. A crime unknown to the descendants of Africa before James _____ was told to report to his master any who refused. The crime that filled our land with mulattoes, nolens volens. The crime that so degraded the "proud Anglo -Saxon" that he would sell his own flesh and blood when he became financially embarrassed. The crime for which any man deserves to die: according to the law, of course.

         We do not always stop to think that slavery degraded the master even more than the slave. "If ye were blind ye should have no sin: but

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now ye say, we see; therefore your sin remaineth." The conditions that were necessary to perpetuate slavery, blinded, degraded, and enslaved the masters. Just think of ministers of Jesus Christ owning, and working and selling slaves.

         In our neighborhood there was an Episcopal church on a manor. In the course of time a rector came who brought with him a young woman and a young man, brother and sister. "Jim" and "Hettie" were the only names I ever heard for them. When we wanted to distinguish them from others by the same mono-syllabic names, we would say' "Church Jim and his Sister Hettie." Howbeit, the slave was not allowed to say "sister and brother" in the presence of the master. I came near getting a flogging once because I said to the country storekeeper that I came for a package which "my sister had left there." "Your sister!" he shouted. "Do you mean Mary?" And yet that same man would not hesitate to say that the colt he offered for sale, was sister to the one hitched at the post.

         Church Jim and Hettie worked on the church farm; associated with the Negroes of the neighborhood and country. Were no better and no worse. Jim, just like the rest,

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might be indulging in a game of cards, or crap while the master preached to the farmers whose horses were hitched about the church-yard. It was all the same to this civilized Christian (?) parson, just so Hettie had dinner ready after church, and Jim was promptly on hand Monday morning. All the colored people of our Neck--Sasafras--were Methodists. At that time, in the sixties, I think there was not a Baptist church in that part of the country. There were but few white people who were anything but Methodists.

         The "brick church" near the village had a gallery that opened from the outside, with nearly perpendicular steps leading to it. There the colored people went for their spiritual food. I remember hearing "Uncle Jake Trusty" tell my mother what the minister preached about, and how beautifully he presented the subject. I can now see my mother go to the family Bible, find the text and mark it. After "Uncle" Jake had satisfied his full grown appetite and bade "Sister Jane" goodby, my mother would take up the Bible--the old family Bible, where our births are recorded --find the marked place, and have a spell of reading. "My word shall not return

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void." My mother and "Uncle" Jake accepted the word even though it came from a Christian (?) minister who denied the brotherhood.

         The only other place for them to go and give vent to their religious faith and feelings was "Friendship," a little log house used for a church, indeed, built for that purpose. "Uncle" Perry Hinson, a free Negro, owned an acre or two of ground behind the woods that was near to Cecilton. On it he built a few one-room cabins, and this church. All built of logs.

         This little settlement, with "Friendship," became the social and religious centre of the people five and ten miles around, and "Uncle" Perry Hinson, the proprietor, became the all important man of the place. He could read a little bit in a blundering way, when he could get his "specks" properly adjusted; and claimed the right to preach. He had built the church on his own ground, and it was no part of the Cecilton Circuit of the Methodist Episcopal Church. Had no trustees nor stewards. No quarterly conference to grant license or refuse to renew them. And so, "Uncle" Perry saw no reason why he might not exercise

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his gifts and graces on the colored folk who came to "Friendship" to worship.

         For a long time he had things his own way. Free people and slaves alike would gather to "Perry Town," as the place came to be called. The grove of oak trees in front was the most magnificent natural grove I ever saw. The crowds would gather there, especially in summer. There was no other such gathering place in the county, though Cecil county is large.

         The white people would come around occasionally to see that all went well, and no mischief was being hatched out at those meetings. The fact is, they were glad for the people to have such a place to meet and satisfy their social and spiritual nature, and foster the spirit of contentment among themselves rather than to discover their true condition and brood over it.

         The grove immediately in front of Friendship contained about thirty acres of ground, all wooded, and all trees of large growth, principally oaks. I think it is safe to say there was not in all of that beautiful grove a single sapling that might have been used as a "pea stick." Strange to say, it was never resorted to by the people of the town, as a park, or, excursion grounds; nor did the

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owner cut any of the trees, nor permit others to cut them. By common consent it was left standing and undisturbed for the colored people to use as their gathering place. Not until after freedom was the woodman's axe heard in this grove; and then (the whole story seems prophetic) enough of it was left, about an acre, for a school house for colored children. This school is kept open during the same school period of all other schools of the county.

         "Uncle" Perry Hinson, as I have said, held undisputed sway as self-appointed pastor in charge of Friendship until others discovered that they had a "talent," and at the same time discovered that the pulpit was the only open door of opportunity for its exercise and improvement. These came forward one after another in a sort of automatic way, the same as "Uncle" Perry had come.

         From time to time these new "speakers," as they were called, would be asked to take the pulpit. Uncle Perry tolerated it for a time, but, when the invitations became too frequent for his liking he locked the church door, and upon being questioned as to his action, he would ask the significant question: "Who is the head of this church." Well, it

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was found to be wise and prudent to humor "Unc." Perry by allowing him to do the most of the preaching, and thus keep the peace, and at the same time keep Friendship open.

         But what of the intellectual status of the people during those days of slavery and primitive life?

         "Unto one he gave five talents, to another two, to another one."

         Whatever was nature's endowment it remained in a natural state, with no opportunity for improvement. School-houses were built for white people. School-books were written for white children. After years, even centuries of practical demonstration, all the colored people came to know that fact by heart; and so, did not concern themselves about school-houses, books, or learning. If those talents, the endowment of nature, began to whisper in their souls, they could give vent to the emotions by inventing riddles, and practicing fortune telling, and "conjuration."

         Many would exercise this pent-up gift by discussing self-made philosophy among themselves. At this some were considered "very smart." They called it "high dictionary" and those who were most expert in it, could generally capture the girls who were considered

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the belles, for some of them, as well as the men, could talk "high dictionary" and explain "hifullutin grammar."

         When this natural gift took a mechanical bent, the pocket-knife would be brought into requisition to make some kind of ornament; or, it might even take a more scientific turn.

         Jack Price--who, by the way is still living, and is a Grand Army Veteran--took his watch to pieces, cleaned it and put it up again, using no other tools than his fingers. I am not sure that it ever ran any more. But the next one who tried it, namely Josh Ferrell, made a success of it, and opened a clock and watch repairing shop in Cecilton, and did work for the people of the town. He was a free Negro.

         Those who had musical talent often became "fiddlers," and some of them were considered quite expert with the bow. Of course, they knew nothing about the science of music. They played the jingles for the buck dances at corn huskings, parties and the holiday gatherings, of which "Easter Monday" was the principal.

         It never occurred to the colored people in general that Easter was a religious holiday. With them, Easter was simply a day, when by common consent of all the masters, the blacks

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had holiday. Not a "Holy day," but a day when they could rest from the routine toil, and select their own pastime. With them, Easter was Monday, without any connection whatever with Sunday. If the story of the Resurrection was told at all, it was at the churches which the slave did not attend. Even the "house girls" did not go to white folks' church usually. At certain seasons there would be "protracted meetings," sometimes called revival meetings. They would continue indefinitely, according to the interest awakened. At these meetings the colored people would be allowed to sit in the gallery and see the whites "get religion."

        They would get at it in good old Methodist style; at least, so far as the mourner's bench was concerned.

        The singing would be of the revival type. One of the favorites for such occasions was, the familiar hymn:


                         "Come Ye sinners, poor, and needy,
                         Weak and wounded, sick and sore.
                         Jesus ready stands to save you
                         Full of pity, love and power."

         With the chorus:

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                         "Turn to the Lord and seek salvation,
                         Sound the praise of His dear name.
                         Glory, honor, and salvation,
                         Christ the Lord has come to reign."

        They also had "made up" hymns for the occasion; such as:


                         We're happy here in the clods of clay.
                         Cho. Glory hallelujah!
                         And happy in an endless day.
                         Glory hallelujah!

        Brother Sylvester Stephens, a big fat man, carpenter by trade, was the leading singer at the "brick church." He sat on the seat next to the wall, front row, in the "amen corner." There was no choir. Brother Stephens would pitch all the tunes, and on revival occasions be very active among the mourners. He had the reputation of saying he did not want to go to heaven if any "niggers" were there. I cannot vouch for this; but like many ignorant men of his type, he was mean toward the colored man. Being both ignorant and poor, he could only base his superiority upon his color. Not that the colored man had ever done him any harm; but to despise him, was considered the way to show that he, Stephens,

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was genuinely white. His house caught on fire one day, and burned to the ground. It is now fresh in my mind. It was one afternoon. Many of us saw the flames, and heard the cracking of the fire as it swept away the dry timber. I do not think that many of the colored people went into sackcloth and ashes over the loss, tho, for policy sake, many expressed sorrow and sympathy. Prejudice is an awful thing. It is more far reaching in its effects than we are wont to give it the credit of being. The man who indulges the feeling, is fostering a bitterness of soul that is like a hissing serpent in the bosom. The one who is the victim of it, may have a feeling of vindictiveness that keeps him so constantly on the alert that often innocent persons are accused. Color prejudice, of all kinds, seems the most shallow and unreasonable. Might as well be prejudiced to black berries, and "black heart" cherries: or to black cats, and black horses: or black clothing, or anything black.

         Perhaps it is not the color after all. The color identifies one with a "previous condition." Clandestine fellowship was not objectionable. For this, there is abundant proof. Men will dispise those whom they can degrade. The

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color of the Negro identifies him with those whom the white man enslaved and degraded.

         It is but fair and just to note, that even in the darkest days of slavery, there were those who were among the seven thousand who never bowed to Baal, nor kissed his image. Among them were some ministers who pastored at the "brick church."

         On one occasion there came a minister who was at heart an abolitionist, and would at times preach against the sin of slave holding. It was a minister of this class who in the hearing of the Master of Richard Allen, preached from the text: "Thou art weighed in the balance and art found wanting." Among those whom he weighed, was the slave holder. The Master was so condemned, that he offered to allow Richard to purchase his freedom; which he did.

         So, the minister referred to, preached one Sunday morning against slavery. It is said that he was very severe in his arraignment of the master class.

         When he was thru, the services were changed as usual into the Sunday morning Class Meeting. There was a sister, a slave holder, who generally led off by giving her experience before Brother Stephens began to

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lead. So, tho smarting under the sting of the sermon, she arose, and began to speak, but not with her usual clearness. Her voice trembled, and she stammeringly felt about for words. The minister who was responsible for her state of mind, discovering her embarrassment, shouted out: "spit them niggers out of your throat, sister."

         The colored people in the gallery had news to take away with them that morning. Many of them would remain in their little secluded lofts until after "class." They were glad that some remained on this occasion, for what followed, strengthened them in their faith, that God was not without witnesses, and that some day, in His own way, at His own time, deliverance would come. It was this faith and this hope that sustained our fathers and mothers during the long period of darkness and oppression, and its transmission to posterity was a legacy more valuable than the heaped up riches which they earned, but did not possess.

         The colored people were encouraged to "get religion." It was thought that it would make them more contented. They would learn to sing: "You May Have All The World, Give Me Jesus." This song when properly

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interpreted, simply means, if one is obilged to make a choice between Jesus and the world, it would pay to take Jesus. But all were not intelligent enough to draw such sharp lines of distinction. And besides, they were taught to believe that the poor and oppressed stood a better chance for Heaven than the rich, and such as have a good time in this world. When we would see people riding in fine carriages, we would say: "that is all the heaven you will ever get." When the slave trader would buy up a lot, and start on a certain day to the place of embarkation, they would sing as they marched: "you may sell my body, but you cannot sell my soul." They were not taught that they had need to be careful about living righteously. This would have been against the indiscriminate living that produced slaves with the desired rapidity. The code of moral given to the slaves, was, weak human nature could not help sinning, but it was only necessary to ask for forgiveness. In this way two things could be accomplished; the slave could be made religious, and yet kept debased.

         Christianity gave the slave holders a good deal of trouble, but they some how managed to get on, with a compromise. The question of baptism and marriage came up for discussion.

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Was not a baptised person a child of God and hence free? Did not the wife belong to the husband? how then could she have another owner? All this was logically and Biblically true enough, but, the compromise was, it did not necessarily follow that slaves must be either baptised or married.

         One of the big days among our people was, when a funeral was held.

         A person from New Jersey who was not acquainted with our customs, heard it announced that: "next Sunday two weeks the funeral of Jenet Anderson will be preached." "Well" said the stranger, "how do they know that she will be dead." The fact was, she was already dead, and had been for some time. But, according to our custom, a custom growing out of necessity, we did not hold the funeral when the person was buried. The relatives --and friends--could not leave their work to attend funerals. Often persons would be buried at night after working hours. If the deceased was a free person, and the immediate family could attend a week day funeral, there might be others, both friends and relatives who could not attend, hence, the custom became general.

        

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When the day was fixed upon the news would be sent "far and near;" and on the day, if weather conditions were favorable, there would be: "a meeting here today."

         The usual place was old "Friendship" yes dear old Friendship behind the big woods. For miles and miles around they would come: Aunts, uncles, cousins, friends, and the curious ones; and all who would sieze the opportunity to meet friends and relatives. The mourners would be heavily clad in black, even if only dark colored calico. The men would have heavy black bands around their hats. All would occupy the front seats. Nothing strange would be thought of the absence of coffin and subject. All knew that he had not only been dead for "four days," but, four months, or years for that matter. "Father Jones" would be selected to preach the funeral whenever his services could be secured. Strange enough too, he had the reputation of "telling the truth' about the persons funeralized, and not preaching them "into heaven" whether or not. If it were a wife whose husband had been unkind to her, Father Jones would say: "poor woman! She is done being cuffed around and starved." The scandalized husband would be

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sitting right there among the mourners. But, by common consent, as it were, Father Jones was expected to preach in this way, and would still be chosen by others. He was without a doubt, a famous preacher, and came so honestly, for he was remarkably talented. People who never attended church, would go if it was known that he would preach. He read his Bible constantly and was familiar with its contents. He was fond of Old Testament subjects, especially historic subjects, and his narrations were most interesting, and his applications most forceful. He was a man of untarnished character, and lived above suspicion, hence, it was considered an honor to have him officiate at a funeral, or on any occasion.

         Very often, the masters of favorite slaves would have their funerals preached at the "big house." On such occasions, Father Jones would always be selected. The gathering would be on and in front of the Veranda. The white people would be guests of honor. The colored people would occupy seats placed on the lawn in front of the Veranda. Father Jones would line out a long hymn, verse by verse: such as: "Hark! From the Tomb a Doleful sound, my ears attend the cry.

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Ye living men, come view the ground Where you must shortly lie."

         This would be pitched in a minor tune-- the most of our tunes were minors--La, la, sol, do: Sol la, la, me.

         Do, me, re, do, sol, do. This would be sung with much feeling, as the body would be swayed back and forth. After prayer, would follow the sermon. And such a sermon! The preacher knew where he was, and exactly what to do.

         Generally, of course, the servant thus honored was in high repute, and also, had been treated well, and Father Jones knew just how to praise the masters and mistresses who had been so kind to their slaves. A big dinner for all and a five dollar bill for the preacher would end the service.

         Before the close of the war, the colored people would be permitted to hold meetings in their church--Friendship--but the white people kept a close watch as a rule. Some one would drop around frequently, and they were obliged to have a white class leader who would be selected and sent to them. James Magee a butcher was one, I am told. The only one that I remember was John Russel a shoe

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maker. Both claimed to be flaming Methodists.

         According to the custom of the times they were not expected to use the good old appellation brother and sister. What a travesty on both Methodism and Christianity!

         "John, tell us how your soul prospers." "Betsy, tell the class."

         A leader of this kind once asked the one who had just finished his testimony, if he had stolen any chickens from his master since he last led him. Of course, the reply was in the negative. But when the leader passed on to the next person, the one who had been interrogated, nudged the one next to him, and remarked: "if he had said 'duck' he would have got me."

         Then as now, there were the "sheep" and the "goats," as the Bible, designates. There were those, whose moral shortcomings were without excuse. But, there were also some who, like John the Baptist, were "burning and shining lights." Real, "salt of the Earth." Their conversion was sound, and their lives were pure. They were spiritually wise, however ignorant as to the things of earth. They knew God, and held with Him sweet Communion.

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They could rejoice in tribulation, and let their light shine in the humblest walks of life.

         In prayer and in exhortation they had remarkable freedom of speech, and power with God. The influence of their lives was felt in the Quarter and at the great house. They were trusted, not to say respected, both by master and fellow slaves. The world was not worthy of them; and they died in the faith and were translated to the Saints' abode, where the "Lamb upon the throne" shall "wipe away all tears from their eyes."

         There swooped down upon us once, a man, who came as suddenly as did Elijah the Tishbite. His name was Samuel Black. He came from Kent County. He was one of those self licensed local preachers, of whom we had quite a number, before there was any one to give license. He was not remarkably intelligent like Father Jones. He couldn't take a passage of scripture and instruct his hearers like the old sage of Back Street, but he was very remarkable in other respects, and in a class to himself.

         When he felt that he was called of God to exhort his people, and to be a religious leader among them, he could not read, and saw

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no opportunity to get instructions. Besides, he was already a grown man, and with a mind showing no special aptness for taking in book learning. He nevertheless, like many others, began to pray, and exhort, and hold meetings; but, felt the need of being able to read. So he asked God to teach him, and let that be an evidence of his call to preach. He states that one day he took his little hymn book and began to read hymns. Being encouraged by this, he opened his Bible, and began to read from it.

         The people had so much confidence in his integrity, that no one doubted his story. He used to prophesy that he would live to this and that period: "until the budding of the trees," or, "until the falling of the leaves." At the stated period he would reappear and remind us that God had kept His promise. He would also ask God for souls when going out on preaching itineraries, and would tell the number that he was promised. His preaching was of the Evangelistic kind: thought nothing of doctrinal discussion, and knew nothing of rhetorical elegance, or, grammatical correctness. But he cried "repent" and lifted up Christ as the World's Redeemer, and warned sinners of the wrath to come. He went out

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from among us as suddenly as he came. Simply did not come back any more. I met a man in Philadelphia from Kent Co. named Black. When I asked him if he knew the Rev. Samuel Black, he replied: "he was my father." The resemblance was pronounced.

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CHAPTER III.

The Civil War.

        "Coming events cast their shadows before them."

         The decade between 1855 and 1865 brought about marvelous changes.

         In the earlier part of this decade, the agitation over the extension of slavery, and its abolition, reached a most acute stage.

         The Presidential election of 1856, was the last under the old regime: the last of its kind forever.

         The campaigns and discussions that filled the period '56, to '60, were characteristic of the spirit and determination of pro slavery to continue, extend, and strengthen the system; and of a like spirit on the part of the anti slavery advocates, to bring it to an end.

         In those days, men spoke pro and con with no uncertain voice. The press was filled with discussions, and every fireside was vocal with

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opinion for and against State rights, the preservation of the Union, and the abolition of slavery.

         These were the days when the house girl and the carriage driver picked up a plenty of news to carry down to the Quarters. These were the days when the faithful ones at the Quarters discovered a ray of the light of hope, and prayed more earnestly that the day would dawn soon. Like Simeon, some of them felt assured that God would show them His salvation, before they were called to cross the narrow stream.

         Uncle Jacob Trusty: Uncle Perry Crawford: Uncle Perry Naudain and the veritable old Prophet among them, "Father" Christopher Jones, took their Bibles to find passages that would throw light upon the subject.

         The intelligence of these men, and many others was most remarkable. Just how some of them learned to read, will ever remain a mystery.

         Chief among these Bible readers, and the preacher, was Father Jones. He was regarded as the moral and intellectual light of the County. Everybody "white and black" believed in his integrity, and relied upon his word with a sort of superstitious fidelity. He

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was sought by representative men of the place. Men who represented its wealth and culture would solicit his opinion upon the leading topics of the day.

         It is fair to conclude that many of them did not know that he could read. They called him "smart" and believed that he lived close to God. And the more they felt that a political crisis was impending, the more anxious they were to know what "Old Kit Jones" thought about it.

         There was a school teacher in Cecilton, Samuel Hays by name. He was an abolishionist, but, like Nicodemus, he did not speak out boldly. But he and Father Jones would meet "by night" and go over the situation. But more, Mr. Hays subscribed to a newspaper in his own name, but it was paid for by Father Jones, and secretly passed to him. This went on for years; and during the period immediately preceeding the war, and also while it was in progress, Father Jones had first hand news which he gave out cautiously, from time to time, to his people.

         He was not so much for resorting to the prophecies of Daniel for information, as he was to the newspaper that secretly came weekly

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to him, tho he did not discourage those who did.

         He was a very conspicuous looking man. Six feet and five inches high. "Chestnut sorrel" complexion. His features were delicately formed and pronounced. His piercing eye could read character at a glance. He was of the "still tongue and wise head" class.

         He worked by contract. For instance, instead of cradling wheat by the day--there were no reapers then--he would take a fifty or hundred acre field by contract. He and his binder would go out early in the morning and work 'till late at night, cut, bind, and shock the field in a few days. He would pull blades and cut cord wood in the same way. Would pay so much an acre for the privilege of pulling the blades, then sell the fodder. Would pay so much for a tract of standing wood, cut it down and sell it by the cord. The black and white oak principally. Hickory would be selected and corded to itself, and sold for more per cord than the oak. No coal was burned in our neighborhood then. There were large tracts of woodland everywhere. Giant oaks filled the forests. The farmers were too busy to cut more wood than they needed for home consumption, and so,

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Christopher Jones developed an industry all his own. The people came to expect him to have wood to sell all winter, and he had. He knew how to make a bargain and he knew how to stand before a white man with his hat in his hand, and with a smile and good words so charm him, that the contract when made would mean money for Jones.

         By his method of work, a method all his own, he made a small fortune while he was young and strong, and retired from work before he was broken down, and lived at ease in "Back Street," which consisted of a cluster of five houses which he built on a small tract of land about a quarter of a mile on the North side of Cecilton. Crooktown and Perrytown were on the South side and behind the woods. "Back Street" was adjacent property owned by "Bob" Price, who married Miss Araminta Coppin. As I see it now, Christopher Jones had a reason for selecting that particular spot. It was close to town, but not on the front pike, and besides, being adjacent the Price property, it enjoyed a certain kind of protection. Christopher Jones married my father's mother, a widow. He was therefore, Dad's step father. We all called him "Father Jones." One more child was born to Grand mother

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Coppin-Jones, a daughter. She married a Philadelphian, and was a member of Central Presbyterian Church. It was first called Glaucester Church as he was the founder and first pastor.

         After his wife died, Father Jones lived quietly in Back Street in the central, and largest house of the group, and father and mother sold out their claim on the Frederick Town homestead to my father's only sister, and moved to Back Street, and lived with Father Jones. I was two small to remember when we moved. My first recollections are of Back Street, and Cecilton.

         The talk of war, so absorbed the thought of the people, and controlled public sentiment, that the colored people were no longer the sole objects of attention. The fact is, no one was buying slaves, for it began to look like they would be set free. This put the "Georgia Trader" out of business. The slaves were not watched so closely. Some masters boldly said if their slaves ran away, they would not try to find them.

         Under the influence of this changed sentiment quite a number made their escape, some going no farther than Pennsylvania, but even more going to New Jersey. But many concluded

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to "stand still and see the salvation of God." Father Jones gave this advice in general, tho, there were cases when even he would say, "make your escape by all means." There were masters who would be mean enough to put a slave to death rather than to see him set free through the changed political conditions of the country. But, these were exceptional cases. The fact is, great fear came upon the people. They felt that their sins were about to find them out. They were something like the Canaanites when the Armies of Israel crossed Jordan. "The hearts of the people melted within them."

         The election of Abraham Lincoln in the fall of 1860, was the beginning of the end. Events came then in rapid succession.

         Maryland was never a battlefield, but Virginia and Pennsylvania were, and we could hear the booming of cannon.

         The changed sentiment at the beginning of the war, afforded the opportunity that my mother had been waiting and praying for. She had kept a clandestine school in her house, principally for the benefit of her own children. The fact is, not many were inclined to take the trouble and risk of studying books, and all could not be trusted. But there were a

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few that mother could take into her confidence and who would come around and be introduced to John Comly's speller and reader. What a book it was!

         It began with a. b. c: then ba, be, bi: then ab, eb, ib: then bla, ble, bli: then four letters and five. Two syllables; three, four and up to seven, with reading lessons, and illustrations scattered all thru the pages, and definitions appended.

         I learned my a, b, c's forward, then backward. z, y, x, w, v, u, t, s, r, q, p, o, n, m, l, k, j, i, h, g, f, e, d, c, b, a, which I now write from memory, without stopping to consider whether it is correct or not. I learned my letters "straight along," and learned them "skipping," and I knew them. This was the "Comly" method. The inductive, modern method has a child reading without knowing one letter from another. In other words, the modern method requires the child to look at a group of letters, and call it by a name, without at all knowing why it should be thus called. It is not so called because it sounds that, but, because it looks that. So, the child cannot give a reason for its being that, except, the teacher said so. When it sees an unfamiliar group of letters, and has not been told what the

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group stands for, the child cannot spell it out for itself.

         Even with all this, I am not prepared to denounce the new method. It has been some years since I taught school: when I did, I followed the old method, and now, I find myself pointing out the letters to my baby--she is twenty-nine months old today--and telling her what this, and that spells. Only yesterday she was walking down the street with me, and said: "look! there is c, a, t, cat." She knows the alphabet, and has been spelling phonetically for more than a year.

         When mother taught me all there was in Comly's--and there was much in it--she then procured other books: at first secretly, then openly. When she taught me all that she knew, she would send me to any one in the neighborhood who would teach me more: first, secretly, but when sentiment changed, then, openly. When attention was so turned to political conditions, that the white people didn't know and didn't much care about what was going on among the Negroes, mother opened up her school out right. Some would come at night, but, the regular session was held Sunday morning before Church time, for nothing in the world would keep mother from

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going to Church. By the time mother could hold her school every Sunday morning with out fear, I had learned enough to be her assistant teacher. So, I taught school before I went to school, technically speaking. When Lincoln was elected, before I was yet in my teens, I could write a letter for my mother to my aunts in Wilmington, Del. When freedom came, and the boys felt that they had become men sure enough, and began to court the girls in down right earnestness, they had to come to me to get their letters written. Many a time, I have written a letter, and then have been called upon by the recipient to read it.

         John Comly's speller and reader had also the multiplication table and this was a part of the education of the Comly students. The fact is, by the time you knew Comly from lid to lid; the spelling and reading, and stories with moral lessons, and definitions, multiplication table and all, and could teach it to others, you knew more than some present day country school teachers holding first grade certificates.

         The first comet that I remember, came about the beginning of the war. The old people called it "the star with a tail to it," and believed

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with all their heart that it had some connection with the new political and social conditions that were about us. Night after night we would stand gazing into the heavens, commenting on the significance of the celestial stranger. Then back to the Bible and read with peculiar unction, and interest, and faith: "Now, when Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, behold there came wise men from the East to Jerusalem, saying, where is He that is born King of the Jews, for we have seen His star in the East, and are come to worship Him."

         Had we not as much right to gaze upon our stella phenomenon as the Eastern Magi? Who can dare say that both stars were not timed to direct attention to current events? Or that events were not brought about at a time when the star could serve as a harbinger? Any way,, it was a time for serious thought, and "the star with a tail" helped us to think.

         Then to the Bible again, and read: "So the King of the North shall come and cast up a mount, and take the most fenced cities, and the arms of the South shall not withstand."

         Such passages as these, from St. Matthew, and the prophet Daniel, taken in connection with the presence of the comet, offered texts

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for the pulpit, and subjects for the fireside, and strengthened the faith of those who were already to believe that the "King of the South" would be overcome. Superstition and emotionalism, after all, have their place in human life and action. The average slave had accepted the inevitable, and was making the most of his miserable lot. some indeed were content, and fully believed that they were created for the place that they were filling. It was so rooted and grounded in their very nature that they were inferior beings that the belief was literally transmitted to their children. Just a year or two ago, Prof. J. R. Hawkins and I secured a drawing room going South, to avoid the horrors of the Jim Crow crib. The train stopped at a station in Virginia, and two colored lads were standing on the platform: one lifting his voice to a high pitch, exclaimed: "I don't believe dem niggers is settin in de white folk's car." It was just about "candle lighten time." So. we quietly pulled down the curtains, and put on the lights within.

         So deeply branded was that sense of inferiority, and so persistently has the lesson been kept before us, that fifty years after freedom, within a few stone throws of the National

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Capitol, a young Negro yet in his teens, still of school age and perhaps had been to such schools as his town afforded, seemed horrified at the presumption? of "niggers"--mind you-- riding in a car that could have only been intended for "white folks."

         It required signs and wonders to arouse the multitudes, and cause them to believe God, and trust "Moses and Aaron."

         There were "Uncle Tom," and Richard Allen: and Christopher Jones: and Frederick Douglass: and Sojourner Truth, and others, and many like them, who always believed, or hoped, and were ready to act upon the slightest appearance of a change in conditions. But the masses were fast asleep: and why not? Three hundred years of bondage, and darkness, are quite enough to crush all the native manhood and hope out of the average soul. The only wonder is, that there were so many found that could hail the welcome morning with faith sublime, and really grasp the purpose and significance of the new order.

         Is it not even a greater wonder that none became infidels, and so many accepted Christianity at the hand of masters, who were daily and hourly contradicting, and dishonoring the very religion that they taught and professed?

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One need not go any further than this very fact, to prove that the doctrines of the Bible are true, and that the Christian religion is divine.

         What, but truth divine could enable an undeveloped, untaught, enslaved and oppressed people to "kiss the rod that smote them," forgive the oppressor, and look forward to promised deliverance?

         What, but almighty power, and truth divine, could lighten the heaviest burdens, and comfort in trouble?

         Who, but God, can "lock the jaws of lions," and "quench fiery flames?" All this, and more, was the experience of the people, to whom came the boon of freedom, after the war of the rebellion.

         There is a fact often referred to by statesmen and orators, but which, perhaps, has a greater significance than has been fully understood, or acknowledged.

         When war was declared between the North and the South, by a sort of blinded credulity, the South believed that it could conquer; and when terms of compromise were offered, the South stubbornly refused to accept them. But it was well known that to win, meant, a gigantic effort must be put forth, that would

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mobilize, and draw upon the full strength of the States in rebellion. It was necessary then for practically all of the man power of the South, to go to the front, thus leaving the homes without protection.

         In a few cases, slaves were taken by the masters as waiters and body servants. In some instances, they were set to work at building breast works. But nearly all were left at home, necessarily, to raise the crops. This placed the women and children at the mercy of the slaves: slave women, as well the slave men. The women had a grievance as well as the men. It would have been the easiest thing possible, for the men and the women to have made common cause, and between the kitchen and the field, to have literally exterminated their oppressors. Many of them went over the lines to the union army. They could have given a parting blow before leaving, by murderous assaults, and by the use of the torch. The men could have outraged the defenseless white women, just as their own had been outraged by white men.

         Let no one think that they were too stupid to think of these things, nor, that the black man is so thoroughly unhuman, and unnatural as to be absolutely incapable of vindictiveness.

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There are two ways to account for it, and only two ways. First, they were divinely, and providentially kept from the very things that retributive justice was punishing others for. They had learned to "cast their burdens on the Lord." They used to say: "that which goes over the devil's back, must come under his belly." The little that they understood as the truth of religion, and the much more, savoring of superstition that influenced their lives, said, that would not be the proper course, This made them at least stop and think before acting. But, the other reason is probably even stronger. There has always been an Elijah; a Moses, to influence and lead the people. In Africa today, the Paramount Chief controls the people by a simple code of unwritten laws, that have been transmitted from generation to generation by tradition. The English people in South Africa, to my personal knowledge, depend more on the people's chief and head men, to keep the masses of the people loyal to the crown, than they do upon the law and Army. So it was, in that critical period of our history, when the race could have forfeited its claim upon the respect and sympathy of mankind, and the favor of the almighty

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God, their leaders came forward and spoke the word that decided their course.

         I was but a lad; too young to enlist in the Army, or to take a very active part in things at home, but there was not anything more indelibly impressed upon my mind, than the fact, that our people would go in crowds, Sunday after Sunday to the "meeting house"-- we seldom said Church--to hear what news Father Jones had, and what advice he would give. He would not come every Sunday. He had his own way of doing things. He was as Methodical in discharging religious duties, as he was in his daily vocations. Whenever we saw him coming we knew he had a message. As emotional as we generally were in religious worship there would be no thought of "shouting" upon the days when we saw the old prophet, with long strides wending his way to the Sanctuary. We were all eyes and ears for a season. I can hear his voice now, as he emphasizes this and that precept, and bade us beware that our own actions did not deprive us of the divine blessing, and guidance, and deliverance that we had come to seek. From him, the class leaders would take up the word, and impress it; and from

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them, it would be taken up by the heads of the homes, and made fireside conversation.

         These blessed old men, and precious old women, who knew God and trusted in Him and in Him alone for salvation. ceased not by night and by day, to counsel against rashness, and implore the people to patiently wait upon God.

         Our people, both slave and free, were not all a common lot, on one level. There were divisions, classes and distinctions among them. They would refer to the white people as "big bugs," college bred, or poor, white trash. Just so among themselves. They were classed as industrious or lazy, "smart" or ignorant, of good or bad character. A character much despised was the deceitful "white man's nigger." He was generally persona grata at the big house, and would carry news.

         On account of those distinctions, the colored folk had their society. Some free men were industrious, and made their families quite comfortable. Of course, there must be no "putting on airs." The children were expected to wear the regulation, common clothing, and go bare-foot in summer. All were expected to be "polite," bow to every person you met, and keep strictly in your place. But you

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might wear clean and whole clothing. To be "ragged" was a sign of poverty or laziness. To call a person, an "onery, dirty rascal," was to put him down very low.

         Uncle Mike Rigby, and Solomon Hemsley, whom the boys called Sol. Tarchie--Saul of Tarsus--got into a quarrel one night, down in Crooktown. Uncle Mike was capable of showing a good deal of spunk at times, while Solomon was considered mild and easy; even too much so to work hard.

         The quarrel waxed rather warm, and Uncle Mike began to say things that were not very complimentary. But Solomon, true to his good nature, even in a quarrel, took it patiently, until Uncle Mike, in a fit of passion, exclaimed: "You are a nasty, onery, good-for-nothing, dirty dog." This was more than even Sol. Tarchie could stand, and in the next moment all that was seen of Uncle Mike was a heap of much patched and now dusty clothes, crying for help; while Solomon, the victor, with both knees in the beast of his vanquished foe and slanderer, triumphantly shouted: "Uncle Mike, I will not take that from you."

         Many slave men would till "patches" at night, and raise extra provisions for their families. They would hunt; catch muskrats,

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coons and opossoms; sell the hides, and make a little change for themselves and their families. I do not know of any masters who would object to their slaves bestowing such extra care upon their families. The fact is, it helped the master to raise his "stock," but it also exhibited a manly and worthy desire on the part of the husband and father to make his family as comfortable as possible.

         My father was a good provider, and my mother believed in keeping her household clean and whole. She would rise early and work till late. She made the clothing for the family, knit the stockings, made and quilted" the bedspreads, of which there was always a plenty on hand, and sewed "carpet rags" for home made, or rag carpets. Dried fruit, and put up preserves in an abundance. Fruit was plentiful and sugar was cheap. Uncle Jim Jones declared that John Coppin was the luckiest man with pigs he ever saw. When I heard Uncle Jim make that declaration about my father, even to the disparity of his own pigs, which were "of the same litter," I believed it, and was rather glad to have been the son of so lucky a father. But, as my mind runs back, and I discover the pigs of Uncle Jim wading knee deep in mud and

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squealing for something to eat, while the pigs of "luck" were sleeping in a warm pen with a plenty of leaves or straw for a bed, or standing at regular intervals to a well-filled trough, I conclude that the "luck" was in the care bestowed.

         We boys worked on farms. There was practically nothing else to do. We went to work on the first day of March, and worked until Christmas, then came home to remain January and February. Father and mother seemed happy when, in the cold days of winter their children were about them. Those "lucky pigs" would be in the smoke house, and vegetables that were not in barrels, would be buried in heaps in the garden. We would hunt during the winter, and generally have on hand fresh game.

         I remember the first dollar I earned away from home.

         A farmer named Perry Pennington wanted me to help thin corn. I must have been about nine years old. My mother let me go. It was a great experience for me to be out into the field with the men, women and children; to sit at the big long table and eat with the men and listen to their jokes. Pennington had no slaves of his own. One of the hired men that

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worked for him was a slave to another man, the rest were free people. He was gentle and kind and would joke with the men. The wife of the slave man referred to was a free woman, and was Pennington's cook. This afforded an opportunity for man and wife to be together, which was not always the case by any means. Some slave men were permitted to visit their wives every other week. Some, once a month. In some rare cases, every week. In some cases, a wife would live in an adjacent county, and some miles away. If the master was a considerate man, he would permit his slave to ride one of the horses on his periodical visits to see his wife. Others didn't care whether he went or not, just so he answered roll call every morning.

         As I remember it now, I worked a whole week on the Pennington place, at thinning corn. When Saturday afternoon came he handed me a gold dollar. These coins were in circulation then. It was so small that I feared that I might lose it. So, I wrapped it up in a small bit of paper and carried it in my hand until I reached home, and handed it to father. I can even now realize how proud I was to have actually earned a gold dollar. Granting that I worked a week, I earned a little over

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sixteen cents per day and my board. But, the experience! It was my first sight upon the real outside world, where there were large groups of people, and big barns, and herds of cattle, and apple orchards, with now and then a chance to ride horseback. I would not have begrudged paying sixteen cents a day for such privileges as the experience afforded. But, added to all of this I actually had owned a gold dollar, and could present it to father with a feeling of self-importance such as I had never before experienced.

         After this, I often went to the Pennington farm for a job, especially at harvest time, when boys were needed to "pick up sheaves."

         At the age of twelve I went on the fourth day of April to help a farmer by the name of Francis King, plant corn. I remained with him the balance of the year. He gave me twenty dollars and a suit of clothes for the nearly ten months. It was from there I went with Billy Cannon--Mr. King's grandson--to Freeman's Mill, at the head of the Sassafras River. Francis King was a big, fat man, who had been married four times. He did not own slaves, but hired both slave and free labor. His youngest child, a boy, was named Thomas Alabone. This was in 1860. Alabone was

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about seven years old, I suppose. When, in 1881, I went to take charge of Bethel Church, Baltimore, I found the Rev. Thomas A. King pastoring a church there; of course we were glad to meet each other.

         My father always allowed his boys to select their own places of work, but mother saw to it that the bargain was all right. The farmer must promise to give so much for the term; a plenty to eat, and a suit of clothes that could not be characterized as, shall-I-go-naked-before spring. My father would sometimes wince and become embarrassed as mother stood "laying down the law" to the man who was hiring her boy. A pair of boots--winter boots--was always included in the phrase "and his clothes."

         The next man I hired to was named Eldridge. This was in 1861. He bargained to give me thirty-two dollars and my clothes for ten months, March to Christmas. By this time I as becoming a regular, and at the same time was making a unique reputation as the boy who could read and write. This was considered marvelous. I would read the Bible, and hymns from a hymn book which my brother-in-law, John Bayard, gave me. This service I would perform for the older men

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and women who cared for it. For the boys I would read from story books and illustrated comic tales, and kiss verses, much to the amusement of the lads who would gather about me around the big fireplace.

         I think my mother never charged her pupils anything for instruction. she seemed so anxious to have them learn. But when the boys began to come to me to have their love letters written I began to charge them ten cents a letter. This they gladly paid.

         While at the Eldridge farm I had an experience in school teaching that I never had before nor since. Uncle "Kit--Christopher-- Cain" was a chunky, little, bow-legged, pine-knot man, of the Guinea type. He would not comb his hair, for he said, "the loss of every knot was equal to an ounce of sense." He had a sharp chin, which grew a beard about four inches long. This Uncle Kit plaitted and seemed to regard it as a sort of tribal mark of distinction; but, comb that head he wouldn't. His wife, Aunt Rose, could beat him two to one for queer looks, in general make-up, and besides was cock-eyed and left-handed. They were "Simon pure" Africans, of equatorial hue. They had a daughter, to whom they gave the name Rosebud. The only

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thing suggestive I could see in the chosen name was, she was typically a bud from the old bush.

         Well, Uncle Kit, who considered himself very smart at "high dictionary" wanted Rosebud taught to read and write, and my services were engaged to perform what proved to be an impossible task, with the promise of five dollars when the work was completed.

         It was doubtful from the beginning of my success with the chip-of-the-old-block, but I never had the least suspicion that I would ever get five dollars for it.

         The food on the farm was very plain and monotonous, and with a careless cook, was often very unpalatable.

         As Uncle Kit, Aunt Rose and Rosebud lived upstairs to themselves, and as Aunt Rose was the cook, she would pilfer such food as she wished to have for her private family and cook it after night came. Now, as my school would be held upstairs, in the Cain quarters, I knew I would be good for a toothsome supper every night. So, I closed the bargain, and began work. I worked faithfully for about three months, and finding that I could not succeed in making Miss Rosebud understand even so much as the alphabet, I closed the

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school for the term," but really with no intention of ever again opening out at "Cainville."

         When Uncle Kit found out that I did not reopen school, he denounced me as being not worth my salt, and would say: "What good is edication to some people? Now there is Levi Coppin, an edicated boy: I promised to give him five dollars to larn my Rosybud to read and write, but do you think he would do it? He jist teached her a little while, den got tired and stopped; had he kept on, Rosybud would have been readin' and writin', and he would have had his five dollars!"

         Not one word of either proposition in the conclusion was true. "Rosybud" could not be taught to read and write, and even if she could have, Uncle Kit never would have paid five dollars for the job; for if he ever told the truth in all his life, I think it was by accident.

         Freedom came shortly afterwards. Uncle Kit died in a few years. Aunt Rose found another companion who lived with her for a time, and then forsook her and "took up" with Rosebud.

         It is well known that when war was first declared, colored men where not taken into the army. But the purposes of God could not be defeated. It was soon apparent to the

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North that the Negro was needed to help win the war. At first, Lincoln would "preserve" the Union with or without emancipating the slaves, but at the last, he found out that the only way to preserve the Union was by permitting the slaves to fight for its preservation.

         Imagine the feelings of our people at the first sight of colored men in soldier's uniform! When the call was made general, many responded. When later on, a recruiting office was opened in Cecilton by Lieutenant Brown, some of our boys who had joined the army were selected to come, now as soldiers, to their own home, and induce others to enlist. Under "shoulder arms," they would march through the little village, "as proud as Lucifer" and without fear.

         While Lieutenant Brown and his men remained, many volunteered. Some slaves, whose masters still held them in bondage, came to the recruiting office, enlisted and placed themselves under the protection of the flag. They were called "United States Colored Troops." No such distinctions are now made between our boys fighting in France. They are not there as colored troops but as United States soldiers.

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        We came out of the Civil War with one commissioned officer, Major Martin R. Delaney, but we entered this world war with nearly a thousand.

         When the colored soldier came, it left no doubt as to whether or not freedom had come.

         Father Jones was promptly on hand with Lincoln's proclamation, but there was no one present with authority to say to the slave, you are free; so all were in suspense.

         Uncle Jim Jones drove his mistress to Cecilton, and some one, a white person, told him that he was free now, and it was discretionary with him whether or not he drove the carriage back. When Uncle Jim reached home he informed every one of what he had heard. When a few evenings after that, his old master himself drove the carriage to town and was late returning, Uncle Jim, in order to make a test case, would not remain to unharness the horses, but said, in a way that his master would be sure to hear it: "There has got to be a new understanding," which "new understanding" came promptly the next morning when "Mars Frankie" approached him to know about the strange doctrine which he was preaching around the place. Poor Uncle

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Jim begged pardon, saved his back, and said no more about a "new understanding."

         He was too old to be very independent. He continued to live in the little house on the place, and work for Marse Frankie, who paid him about what he thought his services were worth. He never was able to throw off the terrible fear he always had of his master, who, by the way, was never cruel to him; but, he finally mustered enough courage to go and come at will.

         It was a great thing to him, even so near the end, to rise in the morning and say he did not feel like going to work, and so, remain at home.

         Uncle Jim was among the men called "wicked." Not indeed of the "Perry Thompson" type, spoken of in another chapter. But one who could swear profanely, drink whiskey and never go near the church. A really "hardened sinner." But, when freedom came, he went to Wilmington, Del., to visit some relatives. On Orange Street, near Tenth, stood an iron foundery, where Uncle Jim, saw for the first time in his life an exhibition of "hot lead" running like water. He had always heard that Satan poured such down the throat of sinners who died in sin. He had all his life

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entertained a lingering doubt as to whether lead could be made into a liquid. But when he saw the real, red stuff running in a stream, doubt was turned into "conviction for sin," and he came home a changed man; united with the church, and remained faithful to death. He got into a quarrel after that with a white man who cursed him. Uncle Jim said: "You need not think I am afraid to cuss you back, it is only because I belong to meetin'."