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 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.

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.

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 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 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 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. 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. 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 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 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 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 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, 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 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 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 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 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 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 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:

With the chorus:

“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 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 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 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, 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 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 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 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 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 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 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 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 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? 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 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. 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 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 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 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, 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 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 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 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 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 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 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 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 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.