Alfred Lee Ridgel. Africa and African Methodism.

Africa and African Methodism:
Electronic Edition.

Ridgel, Alfred Lee

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Source Description:
(title page) Africa and African Methodism.
Rev. Alfred Lee Ridgel, A.B.
116 p.
Atlanta, Ga.
Franklin Printing and Publishing Co.
1896
Call number 287.8 R436A (University of Texas at Austin)

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Library of Congress Subject Headings, 21st edition, 1998

Languages Used:

English
Latin
Greek

LC Subject Headings:

Methodist Church -- Africa -- History -- 19th century.
Ridgel, Alfred Lee.
African Americans -- Arkansas -- Biography.
African American missionaries -- Biography.
African Methodist Episcopal Church -- Clergy -- Biography.
Blacks -- Religion.
Missions -- Africa.
African Methodist Episcopal Church -- Missions -- Africa.
Turner, Henry McNeal, 1834-1915.

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2000-04-07,
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2000-03-30,
Jill Kuhn, project manager,
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2000-03-29,
Robin Roenker
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2000-02-24,
Richard Musselwhite
finished scanning (OCR) and proofing.

AFRICA AND AFRICAN METHODISM.

REV. ALFRED LEE RIDGEL, A.B.,
Presiding Elder of the Liberia Annual Conference African Methodist
Episcopal Church, West Coast of Africa.

WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY
BISHOP H. M. TURNER, D.D., LL.D., D.C.L.,
Presiding BISHOP of Africa.

ATLANTA, GA., U. S. A. :
FRANKLIN PRINTING AND PUBLISHING CO.
Geo. W. Harrison, Manager.
1896.

Page 3

CONTENTS.

INTRODUCTION . . . . . 7
PREFACE . . . . . 13
BIOGRAPHY OF THE AUTHOR . . . . . 15
CHAPTER I.
TRAVELS IN AMERICA . . . . . 21
CHAPTER II.
VOYAGE TO ENGLAND . . . . . 30
CHAPTER III.
FROM ENGLAND TO AFRICA . . . . . 35
CHAPTER IV.
AFRICA . . . . . 40
CHAPTER V.
MISSIONARY POSSIBILITIES OF THE AFRICAN M. E. CHURCH IN AFRICA . . . . . 57
CHAPTER VI.
MOHAMMEDANISM IN WEST AFRICA . . . . . 65
CHAPTER VII.
HOLY GHOST PREACHING . . . . . 74
CHAPTER VIII.
SABBATH DESECRATION . . . . . 80
CHAPTER IX.
SYSTEMATIC EMIGRATION INDORSED . . . . . 86
CHAPTER X.
AN EDUCATED AND PROGRESSIVE MINISTRY . . . . . 93
CHAPTER XI.
SKETCH OF AFRICAN METHODISM IN AFRICA--ITS ORIGIN, ETC., ETC . . . . . 102
CHAPTER XII.
LIFE AND LABORS OF BISHOP H. M. TURNER, D.D. . . . . . 106
CHAPTER XIII.
SKETCH OF MRS. FANNIE M. RIDGEL . . . . . 112
CHAPTER XIV.
SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF THE LATE G. G. VREELAND, P.E. . . . . . 114

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DEDICATION.

TO

Rt. Rev. H. M. TURNER, LL.D., D.C.L.
Rt. Rev. B. W. ARNETT, D.D.
Rt. Rev. ABRAHAM GRANT, D. D.
Rt. Rev. JAMES A. HANDY, D. D.
Rev. W. B. DERRICK, D. D.
Rev. JOHN T. JENIFER, D. D.
Rev. JOHN M. MURCHISON, B.D.
Rev. JAMES M. CONNER, S.T.D.
Rev. H. T. JOHNSON, D.D., Ph.D.
Rev. C. S. SMITH, D.D.
Rev. JOHN W. BECKETT, D. D.
Rev. P. W. WADE, D.D.
Rev. THOMAS H. JACKSON, D.D.
Rev. W. A. J. PHILLIPS, D.D.
Rev. H. B. PARKS, B.D.
Rev. J. I. Lowe, P.E.
Prof. WM. M. EWING, A.M.
Rev. J. R. FREDERICK, P. E.
Rev. JOHN MILLER, D.D.
Prof. W. H. COUNCILL, A.M.
Rev. J. E. NEAL, P.E.
Rev. T. W. HENDERSON, D.D.
Mrs. BISHOP H. M. TURNER.
Mrs. G. W. SWAN.
Mrs. G. T. THURMAN.
Mrs. G. G. BAKER.
Mrs. E. W. LAMPTON.
Mrs. SADA J. ANDERSON.

Also a host of other friends of African Missions, whose names I cannot recall at this distance.

And to my devoted wife, Mrs. Fannie Ridgel, is this little volume most sincerely dedicated as a faint expression of gratitude for their devotion to the cause of humanity, and advancement of the Church of God. AUTHOR.

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INTRODUCTION.

The present age is not famous for deeds of dare and adventure; cheap notoriety, evanescent popularity and temporary honors appear to satisfy the ambition of the present generation. Inordinate selfishness has such a grasp upon the men of to-day, that one is rarely found who is willing to sacrifice his own ease and comfort for the good of others or for a name that will go down to coming ages. Merit, pure and simple, holds a secondary place in these times of scheme and artifice. If we look among statesmen, we find United States senators who have succeeded in getting rich through the issue of bonds upon imaginary stock and futures--actually buying up legislatures for a seat in that grave and venerable assembly, when they know they will not be able to make a speech upon any important question until they have hired some professional speech-writer to manufacture one for them and type-print it, so they can read it as any newspaper article.

Among the members of the lower house of Congress a dozen men, out of three hundred or more, make all of the speeches that have the tinge of statesmanship. The remainder are mere political harangues, made up of wit, humor and sarcasm. The judiciary of the country in the main are composed of failures in the legal profession, for the few able jurists are in such great demand that they are often able to make more out of a single case before the bar than the pay of the judge will amount to in a year, and sometimes in two years. A like imbecility and intellectual and literary impotency run through every grade of juridical and statesmanic scale till we reach the ordinary justice of the peace.

Our authors are more numerous than in any period since time began, but the trashy literature imposed upon the public shows to a demonstration that nine-tenths of them would be better employed reading books than in writing them. Great scholarship, deep reading, profound thought,

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synthetical and analytical power and systematization is too largely an adjunct of the past, for the reason that social intercourse with the giddy and the gay and the toddy-glass must be denied, and protracted application, as well as burning the midnight oil, is an essential prerequisite to literary excellence and distinction.

The same condition of things aptly applies to the ecclesiastical sphere. Ministers of the gospel in the main no longer hunger and thirst for a profound knowledge of the Bible and a thorough familiarity with theological lore. The chief aim is to squeeze by the committees on examination and get to be deacons and elders, regardless of the necessary qualifications to meet the requirements therewith connected. And if they can flaunt a diploma from some third-class institution of learning, they feign to be insulted if a committee should subject them to a reasonable examination; and when once admitted into the ministry, study and protracted meditation cease to be a virtue. A large majority appear to be ignorant of the fact, that true education requires a lifetime of hard study, and that wit, anecdotes, florid sentences and a few rhetorical embellishments are no test of profundity, either in a literary or an intellectual aspect. Thousands of gospel ministers seem to think they can trick and cunning their way to the hearts of the people, or to their attention at least, and finally to a seat in heaven, without half of the proficiency required of a blacksmith, or a carpenter, or in any other mechanical profession, because it involves talk, forgetful that when talk is defective, or trivial and light, that the people will fully realize it and grade their intelligence and ability accordingly. I know of ministers carrying the title of D.D. who will go to bed at the earliest opportunity and lie there till ten and eleven o'clock next day and complain about not having time to read. Such moral sluggards God never intended to be the directors of His people. Ministerial fitness and fidelity call for industry, patience, endurance, invincibility and consecrated devotion, as well as the sacrifice of self, in all the phases that involve the individual himself, or his family and domestic relations. And in as much as his calling is infinitely more lofty than the statesman, the jurist, the warrior, the explorer, the inventor,

Page 9

the discoverer, or any other pursuit or profession of a secular nature, so his sacrifices heroism, adventures and risks should be infinitely more stupendous and mighty, especially so as Christ Jesus our Lord has promised to be with him till the world shall end.

Among the ministry of African descent in the United States, where they are found in the largest numbers outside of Africa proper, profundity, thoroughness, self-abnegation and the spirit of sacrifice, are at a discount that is alarming, especially in the light of divine revelation. Few of the American Africans, or negroes, if you prefer the term, are willing to make any sacrifice in a physical or secular manner for the amelioration of our condition. No one appears to be willing to sacrifice life, money, or even risk any bodily comforts for the betterment of the masses. No self-protecting organizations exist, no secret pass-words, or forms of expression have been agreed upon as a call to rally to each other's defense when the bloody lynchers are doing their work of death and destruction among our people. And even when one would dare to enter a protest against existing evils, they will fly to the North and play the scullion through the day and write a tissue of abuses at night which is of no practical benefit. It is useless, however, to draw a picture of existing things in a material and moral point of view. The American black man is without a single hero. Indeed, the bulk of them have no proper conception of the meaning of the term.

Churchiologically, the same condition of things exists. The only aspiration for fame, honor and immortality that exists to an insignificant exception is at the expense of others. Many of the pastors will build large churches on credit and have their names engraved on the corner-stone, and hasten away for another minister and the congregation to pay the debt. Those who aspire to distinction in the ranks of the ministry, do so almost invariably through the votes of others, seeking to be elected to the Bishopric, or to some general office, instead of aspiring to distinction by writing hymns or learned works on Theology, Astronomy, Geology, Geography, Chemistry, Intellectual and Moral Philosophy, or delivering a series of lectures on Ancient History, or delving into the labyrinths of Archaeology and

Page 10

establishing the claims of nature to the primitive color of man, and showing through it that all men started black and remained so till God said, "Let there be white," just as He said "Let there be light."

No honors conferred can equal those that come through merit, but meritorious honor and distinction are at a low ebb among negro ecclesiastics, because it involves, as we have said before, an amount of labor, patience, self-abnegation and sacrifice, which is foreign to the age, and especially to the American black man.

Rev. A. L. Ridgel, A.B., Presiding Elder of the Liberia Annual Conference of the African Methodist Episcopal Church, however, is one of the amazing few who has had the courage and the dauntless invincibility to break through the lethargic environments and proclaim himself a hero, not by words, but by works and noble deeds. Nearly four years ago, single and alone, amid discouragements and the condemnation and jeers of his brethren, he surrendered his pulpit at Newport, Arkansas, and turned over a splendid congregation into the hands of his presiding elder for him or the Bishop to fill, and began to travel and collect money and means to enable him to go as a missionary to Africa. I need not describe what he had to contend with, for the book you will read, after glancing at this introduction, will describe it too well for our credit and the honor of our common Christianity. Elder Ridgel stands without a peer among the young men, not only in the A. M. E. Church, but of any church manipulated and managed by members of our race. Since he has been in Africa he has had to battle with poverty, look starvation in the face, fight with maladies indigenous to a strange country, contend with a tropical fever, and bear the abuse, misrepresentation and villification by those behind from whom he expected sympathy, prayers, support and words of comfort and cheer. But, like a man of valor and a hero as he is, he bore it all and stood like an impregnable wall, preached the gospel with a power and eloquence that has enabled him to take hundreds into the church and enlarge the boundaries of the connection, and at the same time write scores of letters for the press of the country describing the resources of Africa and the possibility of our church; also

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preparing booklets for publication, editing a paper with an extensive circulation, which is read upon three continents, and now he gives the world a decent volume, which for size, diction, rhetoric, thought, logic, philosophy and learning will be read and admired by tens of thousands. There are chapters in this volume, the subjects of which are treated with an ability that would not reflect upon Lord Macaulay himself. This production alone will immortalize the name of Elder Ridgel, should he never write another. Not only for its chaste diction, terse and pointed sentences, wide reading and commendable learning, but the question will rise in the future, how he could command himself, utilize the severe ordeal through which he has passed and concentrate his intellectual powers to discuss such grave questions as he has raised and treated with such consummate ability. The reader will find a vein of philosophy in his treatment of the dissimilarity between the African autochthons and the African Americanized, which, we venture to say, has never been brought out by any of the writers of the present generation. He shows beyond question that none of the proletaneous divisions of the Africans can equal in manhood instincts those upon their native soil, for the reason, as we have said a thousand times, their environments tend to dwarf them and in every instance they will be successful. Subjugation begets degradation, and degradation begets treachery and racial infidelity, as is verified in the treachery of the Irish and Polanders, which abound with traitors toward each other, and will as long as they are the victims of subjugation by other nationalities.

We are glad that Dr. J. M. Conner was kind enough to furnish a sketch of Brother Ridgel's life, for if he is true to himself in the future, as he has been in the past, the world will need this information when he shall have paid the debt of nature; for the history of Sierra Leone and of Liberia with their religious achievements can never be written up without incorporating the name and labors of Rev. A. L. Ridgel. And yet his career has virtually just commenced; where it will end can only be determined by that God who can read the future. Trusting that this book will be an inspiration to the men of the present day and millions

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who are sleeping in the womb of the future, and that its contents may evolve great and mighty men and women from the descendants of Africa, we ask upon this effort the blessings of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost.

Fraternally,

H. M. TURNER.

Atlanta, Ga., U. S. A., March 20, 1896.

Page 13

PREFACE.

In this little volume will, no doubt, appear many things already given to the public concerning Africa, her people, their customs, etc. However, I have been moved to yet enlarge upon the subject, not for name, nor to get myself before the reading world, but for a much higher and infinitely grander purpose--a purpose or cause in which the interests of millions of my kinsmen are involved.

Designing individuals have both written and said many things which tend to place Africa in a false light before the world.

Many have strongly denounced the country and have held up her people before the public for ostracism, which, to say the least, is more due to prejudice and race-hatred than anything else.

Others have overrated the possibilities, especially when certain classes of persons are included. Therefore, having a personal knowledge of the situation of West Africa, I feel it my duty to give others the benefit of my experience, etc.

In this little volume the reader will have the honest convictions of a close observer of the affairs of West Africa and the advisability of migration, a subject of so much importance to those of our brethren in exile.

We do not claim for it literary merit, but I do claim for it the embodiment of truth, presented in a spirit of meekness and fear toward God, and a sincere devotion to my oppressed race.

In this age, when mighty volumes are flooding the land; when men of title and ability draw so heavily upon the public mind, we cannot expect but a secondary place for this feeble effort.

However, we do hope some good will accrue from what may be gathered from facts herein written.

Trusting that the God of heaven has directed me in all that I have written upon these pages,

I am, your humble servant,

ALFRED LEE RIDGEL,

Edina, Grand Bassa County,
Liberia, West Africa.
November 29, 1895.

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BIOGRAPHY OF AUTHOR.

The subject of this sketch was born in Bradley county, Arkansas, August 10, 1861. He is the eldest son of Alfred and Charlotte Ridgel. His parents were devout Christians and members of the A. M. E. Church. Rev. Alfred Ridgel was a minister of considerable notoriety.

Young Ridgel can best tell his own story concerning the death of his mother, and also of his conversion.

Here is what he says:

"My dear mother was an exemplary Christian woman. She would often walk four miles on the Sabbath to hear the gospel preached. It was under the preaching of my father that I was aroused to a sense of my soul's salvation. This was in the month of June, 1876, in the fifteenth year of my life. I have always desired to be a Christian. I cannot remember the time when I did not pray and beg the Lord to convert my soul. I was converted while a penitent at the altar begging for mercy, but was not wholly satisfied as to the genuineness of my conversion until two weeks later, when I heard a voice, saying, 'You are free indeed.' Since then I have never, in any way, doubted my conversion.

"My dear mother died January 1, 1875, at 5 o'clock, A.M. Her last words were these: 'Husband, raise my children right, teach them to be Christians. I am going home to glory. You all must meet me over there.' Ah, my best earthly friend died that morning! Oh, how my tender heart did ache that morning, when I heard the doctor say, 'She can't live.' Oh, how my infant soul throbbed while she bade us adieu.

"Five motherless children were left behind--one of whom was a baby.

"Dear mother is gone, but I shall see her again some day. Oh, yes, some day my journey will be done, the battle will be fought and the victory won. The Lord has been good to us.

"We have all reached manhood and womanhood. My

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eldest sister, India, is a devout Christian woman, but my poor brother, Haywood, is yet out of Christ, yet exposed to the wrath and vengeance of a just God. Sisters Tenny and Della are both married and trying to live Christian lives.

"My father died August, 1885. He left a glowing testimony as to the future welfare of his soul. I was not at home when he breathed his last, but reached home shortly after his death. Oh, God, help me to meet my sainted parents in the better land.

"A few months ago, September 16, 189-, I visited his grave, and dropped a tear upon that sacred spot."

Our subject was sent to a country school at an early age, where he laid the foundation for an education. His educational advantages have not been by any means good, but by dint of courage, perseverance and a determination to fight down hindrances and come to the front, he has acquired a splendid education.

He was licensed to exhort by Rev. D. Wilson, when but eighteen years of age. Four years later he was granted local preacher's license by Rev. R. A. Sinquefield. After serving in the capacity of local preacher some years he was recommended to the Annual Conference, which met in Helena, Arkansas, November 16, 1884, Rt. Rev. H. M. Turner, D.D., presiding. He passed a splendid examination and was admitted on trial. Bishop Turner appointed him to the Walnut Lake Mission, where he found a handful of discouraged members, and a half-completed church edifice.

Our young itinerant had not long been on the scene before he matured plans, marshaled his army, and pitched battle against his enemy. During the year souls were converted, members received, the church structure improved, and the best dollar-money report in the history of the charge was made.

Listen to what one of his members says:

"Brother Ridgel is a grand, young man. We all love him and hate to give him up, but our little mission is not able to maintain so worthy a young man."

The year 1885 found our young giant on the Sheridan Mission, with four places of worship, sixty members scattered over a whole county, and he, with no horse to ride,

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when some of his members saw fit to loan him one. His first experience in borrowing mules came near proving very serious. Having to meet an appointment some fifteen miles distant, good old Brother Hayman volunteered to let him ride his mule, "Mike." Of course the kind offer was thankfully accepted. Mike was soon saddled, and our young divine, with well-stuffed saddle-bags, containing two suits of clothes, a Methodist hymn book, A. M. E. Discipline, and a copy of the Sacred Word, was well on his way to little Macedonia Church, when "old Mike" became excited at a bunch of hogs by the way, and began pitching at such a rate, that the gospel messenger was landed about fifteen feet from the more furious than excited beast, with the bags thrown squarely over his back, which, when examined, were found to be unharmed. Old Mike soon re-traced his steps homeward, with the young clergy following hard upon his heels. So great was his success on this mission, that a strong petition was sent to the Annual Conference begging his return, which was granted, and the second year was no less successful than the first. But let old Brother Hayman speak: "I just tell you, Brother Ridgel is the very best preacher that we have ever had on this work. Even the white folks are talking about what a preacher he is. If our work was able to maintain him we would ask his return, but it is a shame to keep such a young man in the woods."

Eighteen hundred and eighty-six found our subject at Swan Lake. This was his first year on a circuit. His administration on this work was highly commended by all of his official members, while the laity of the church simply idolized their young pastor. During the year sixty members were received into the church, money was raised for the erection of a new church edifice, and a good dollar-money report was made.

Eighteen hundred and eighty-seven found Rev. Ridgel bolding forth on the Pastoria Circuit, one of the largest circuits in the South Arkansas Conference. Here he distinguished himself as a financier and revivalist. A great revival of religion broke out, near a hundred souls were brought into the church and the work so greatly enlarged that the circuit was divided at the conference into two self-sustaining

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charges; the dollar-money report was one hundred dollars, the largest that had ever gone from that work.

Hear what Mr. W. E. Pennington says of our subject:

"Rev. A. L. Ridgel is by far the ablest pastor that we have ever had on this charge. We shall do all in our power to have him returned. Our church has flourished as never before. Our prayers shall follow him wherever he goes."

Brother Ridgel writes as follows concerning his labors on the above-mentioned charge:

"Never in my life did I spend a more pleasant year. The people were generous, kind, and progressive. They never refused to oblige me in any way possible. Their homes were places of comfort, and their conversations enjoyable. God bless them."

In 1888 Bishop R. R. Disney appointed Rev. Ridgel to the Forest City Station, a charge of importance, but quite difficult to hold. So turbulent were the elements of dissatisfaction, that some years as many as four pastors had been sent to this charge. Some of them were men of ability, experience, and great pulpit powers. Our young divine forsook his home conference, accepted a transfer, bade the dear brethren of the good old South Conference adieu, and was soon off for his new, but difficult, post of duty.

Soon the city was captured by his devotion, untiring zeal, and burning eloquence. The congregation increased with each succeeding Sabbath. The young people were gained for the church and Sunday-school. For years, pastors had endeavored to renovate the church edifice but failed. Brother Ridgel asked the brethren to follow him. He pulled off his coat, got his tools and went to work himself, and very soon the church was a thing of beauty.

The first year at Forest City closed with a glorious revival of religion in which sixty persons were happily converted to God; eighty were added to the church, and the old church debt nearly wiped out of existence. At the conference of 1889, which convened in Forest City, a strong petition was made to Bishop Disney for the return of Rev. A. L. Ridgel which was granted. The second year was one of wonderful success. The debt was paid, an organ was purchased for the Sunday-school, the membership was doubled, and the best dollar-money report ever sent from that station was made at the conference of '90.

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In addition to his pastoral duties, Rev. Ridgel published the Forest City Enterprise, a six-column folio weekly newspaper. He soon became distinguished as an editor. Often his editorials were copied by the leading papers of the State. He was pastor in Forest City during the great riot in which A. M. Neely, one of the leading colored men of the State of Arkansas, was murdered. He did more to reconcile the disturbing elements than any minister of the city, which was due to his popularity as an honest, straight-forward servant of God, who had no time or inclination to bother with political affairs.

Hear what Prof. Wm. Erwing, of Forest City, says concerning the labors of our subject in that place:

"Rev. A. L. Ridgel has accomplished more for our church and community than any pastor that we've had for years. He is a young man of which the church and race should feel proud. He has been with us two years and we want him longer, but he deserves a more lucrative and prominent position. We commend him to the people among whom he may labor as a worthy young man, full of zeal, scholarly, eloquent and profound."

At the conference of '91, Rev. Ridgel was appointed to the Newport Station. His beginning in this very important charge was auspicious, but ere six months had passed a serious trouble arose which caused the pastor to resign. The remainder of the conference year was spent in traveling in different parts of the State with a brief pastorate on the Cherry Valley Circuit.

The year '92 was spent in the pastorate of the Brinkley Station. Here, as elsewhere, he had wonderful success. The church was remodeled and painted, an organ was purchased for the Sunday-school, and the membership greatly increased.

We have given you a brief account of the life and labors of Rev. A. L. Ridgel, one of the most promising young men of the African M. E. Church. I trust his life and success will give impetus to some struggling young man, and cause him to succeed.

Yours for the race,

JAS. M. CONNER.

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Africa and African Methodism.

CHAPTER I.
TRAVELS IN AMERICA.

Having fully decided, after much prayer and meditation to go to Africa, to engage in missionary work, and not having the requisite means to defray my expenses, I began a soliciting tour November 9th, 1892. I attended the West Tenn. Conference, which met in Memphis, Tenn., Bishop John M. Brown, D.D., D.C.L., presiding. After making known my mission, the good Bishop kindly consented to assist me in every way possible.

He gave me a special meeting, at which time I presented my cause to the dear people, and they gave me a liberal collection. Rev. C. S. Smith, D.D., was present and made an eloquent speech, as did Rev. C. O. H. Thomas, A.M. Sunday morning, Nov. 13th, I left Memphis for Brinkley, Arkansas, where I spent a few days and proceeded to Newport, Arkansas, the seat of the Arkansas Conference. Here I met that noble man, Bishop B. W. Arnett, D.D., who, like the sainted Bishop Brown, gave me a warm reception and much encouragement in my undertaking.

A special night was granted me, a tremendous congregation assembled, and I made known my intentions, whereupon I was given thirty dollars to help me on to Africa. Drs. C. S. Smith and T. H. Jackson were present and made able speeches.

From Newport I went to Little Rock and spoke in "Old Bethel" on Sunday night.

The dear friends gave me five dollars and many words of encouragement.

November 29th found me at Hope, Arkansas, the seat of the West Arkansas Conference.

I was accorded the usual hospitality by Bishop Arnett, and the noble brethren of the West Conference. A special

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collection was raised in my behalf, amounting to $20.00. Sunday was a great day in Hope. Bishop Arnett preached a powerful sermon at 11 o'clock A. M. and Rev. C. S. Smith, D.D., surpassed himself at 3 o'clock P. M.

December 4th found me at Pine Bluff, Arkansas, the seat of the South Arkansas Conference. The conference was largely attended; the reports were good, and the sermons, speeches, etc., were excellent. Ex-Senator Bell was introduced to the conference, and delivered a thrilling address, as did a young minister of the Lion Church.

The Bishop selected Dr. Thomas H. Jackson to respond, which he did in the most able manner. Dr. Jackson is, beyond doubt, one of the very ablest men of the race. I was given a special night to speak for dear Africa, which I did to the best of my ability. As this was my home conference, where I had served for several years, and had many warm friends, the occasion was quite a solemn one. Many tears were shed, and many "God bless you's" were showered upon my poor soul.

Dr. Smith followed in a most powerful, logical and touching speech. Dr. Smith is one of the most eloquent speakers of the church, and has been styled the "coming Douglass." The dear people gave me fifty dollars to assist me on to Africa. Bishop Arnett and the conference received an invitation from Mr. Wiley Jones, the colored street railroad magnate, to accompany the managers of the road over his extensive line. The invitation was accepted, and the Conference in a body, headed by the Bishop, Dr. Smith, and the presiding elders of the conference, marched down and took passage on a negro street railroad car.

Oh, what a change twenty-seven years prior to this event. Mr. Jones was a chattel slave. He was sold as a horse, but thank God, and all honor to Mr. Jones, to-day he is worth two hundred thousand dollars.

December 6th found me at Monticello, Arkansas, the home of my two dear children, Lenora and Mattie. After spending a few days with them and Aunt Catherine Allen, in whose care I had intrusted them during my expected stay of three years in Africa, I left for Greenville, Miss.

En route to Greenville, I passed through Arkansas City, a small but important town on the banks of the great Mississippi

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river. After a few hours' stay in this busy town I crossed over the largest river in the United States, and proceeded direct to my destination, which I reached in safety, but cold, ah, my--whew!

Here I spent seven days. I visited the public school, under the management of Miss L. A. Williams, one of the most talented young women that I ever met. She received all of her school training in the State of Mississippi, and is one of the acknowledged educators of the race. On Sunday I spoke twice to large congregations in the A. M. E. Church, of which Rev. E. W. Lampton was pastor. The kind people gave me five dollars and sent me on my way rejoicing. I found many well-to-do Colored people in Greenville. The churches were all in splendid condition, spiritually and financially.

From Greenville I went to Vicksburg, the metropolis of the State. On arriving I was conducted to the A. M. E. Church, where I met Bishop Arnett; Rev. J. I. Lowe, and Rev. S. J. Campbell, of Liberia, Africa. On the next day we left for Port Gibson, the seat of the Mississippi Conference. The session was pleasant. On Sunday Bishop Arnett preached one of the ablest sermons that I ever heard. It was a high day in Israel. Everybody seemed to enjoy the services. Here, as elsewhere, I spoke in behalf of Africa, and received a liberal collection. After four days I returned to Vicksburg, and spoke for Dr. O. P. Ross, to an immense congregation. The dear people gave me ten dollars. Dr. Ross is a grand man. Such men are not often found. As a preacher he is logical, eloquent and profound.

God bless him and his good people.

In company with Bishop Arnett and Professor Arnett I left Vicksburg, bound for Atlanta, Georgia. We passed through Meridian, Jackson, Miss., and Birmingham, Ala. At the last-named place I parted with the dear Bishop, and his noble son, they bound for Cincinnati, and I for Atlanta, Ga. On account of my own foolishness I failed, to get a palace car at Vicksburg, for which I suffered. I was on the car all night and until in the afternoon of the next day. I was unable to lie down or to get a mouthful to eat during the entire trip. It being Christmas week, the cars

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were crowded with a set of half-drunken men and women, who conducted themselves in the most shameful manner. I complained to the conductor, but he seemed inadequate to the task.

Just before reaching Atlanta a man came aboard with a basket of nice fried chickens, one of which I purchased at an enormous price and soon devoured it.

December 20th found me in the "Gate City," the guest of Bishop Turner, 30 Younge street.

The Bishop was at home, fat as you please, and hard at work. He bade me welcome, introduced me to the family and off upstairs we went to the Bishop's spacious study. Books, books, books, I never saw just such a library as the Bishop has, unless it is that of the late Bishop Campbell's. I spent more than a week in the city; preached at the "Old Bethel" and Allen Temple. Allen Temple is a structure of exquisite beauty and neatness. All honor to Rev. J. G. Yeiser, the builder, and Rev. R. R. Downs, who came so near cancelling the debt during his two years' pastorate.

Rev. L. Thomas was hard at work on his Master's building--New Bethel. When complete it will be one of the finest A. M. E. Churches in the South. Atlanta is a great city. Great in numerical strength, great in wealth, great for educational institutions, and great for African Methodism. Morris Brown College, Gammon Theological University, Clark University, Atlanta University, and other schools of importance are all found in Atlanta.

I left Atlanta for Savannah, Ga., making a short but pleasant stop at Macon, where I met Rev. L. H. Smith, Rev. W. C. Gaines, and other noble men of God. I found Sister, Gaines a model Christian woman, ever ready to do her Master's biddings. Rev. L. H. Smith gave me a copy of his valuable book, titled "Earnest Pleas." I am pleased to say that I have found it to be, as Doctor Coppin says, "worth its weight in gold."

On reaching Savannah, I was conveyed to the splendid hotel of Mrs. L. Baker, where I remained during my stay of one week in the city.

It was my good pleasure, while in Savannah, to meet that broad-hearted, scholarly gentleman, Rev. J. B. Lofton, A. M., also Revs. R. R. Downs and T. N. M. Smith.

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I preached twice and lectured once in St. Philip's, the leading A. M. E. Church of the city. I found Rev. Smith, the pastor, a Christian of the highest type. His church gave me more than forty dollars to help me on to Africa.

Savannah is a city of considerable importance. There are many well-to-do negroes among her population and several professional men of note.

There are five A. M. E. Churches within the city limits, with any number of suburban places of worship. I found the race prejudice to be very great; much greater than I had expected to find in a city containing so much wealth and intelligence among Afro-Americans. As an evidence of this statement, I will relate a personal experience during my short stay there.

One day, feeling very hungry, I dropped into a depot lunch room and called for luncheon. The attendant, giving me a rather mean look up and down, gruffly replied: "We don't serve colored folks here, but I will give you a cup of coffee and you can go there to the window and drink it." I indignantly refused it and left the room. Oh, prejudice; what a monster thou art! How deep-seated in the American white man's heart! Shame upon the American white man's civilization, to say nothing of his pretended claim to Christianity. A free colored citizen can not drink a cup of coffee at one of your depot lunch counters.

From Savannah I went to Charleston, South Carolina. I arrived in Charleston one cold afternoon and was driven to a hotel, but did not stay there long, for when that heroic Christian gentleman, Dr. L. R. Nichols, learned that I was in the city, and had gone to a public hotel, he was astonished at my audacity, and ordered me to come at once to his magnificent residence, where I remained during my stay in the city.

Dr. Nichols differs broadly from the majority of our ministers in this respect, for my experience is that our brethren don't want to be bothered with visiting preachers when a collection will be in demand.

I spent more than a week in Charleston; preached at Mt. Zion, Morris Brown and Emanuel.

I found Rev. J. H. Welch, D.D., and Rev. J. D. Lites affable Christian gentlemen; also Rev. W. W. Becket. On

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Wednesday evening we held a missionary meeting, and speeches were made by Dr. J. H. Welch, Rev. W. W. Becket, and other distinguished ministers. More than forty dollars was realized, which amount was given to help me on my African trip.

Charleston is a great African Methodist centre. Emanuel alone has a membership of two thousand, besides probationers. Dr. L. R. Nichols is pastor of this great church. He was putting forth strenuous efforts to complete his spacious new church, which, when finished, will be a marvel of beauty and grandeur.

I left Charleston for Washington, D. C., calling a halt at Columbia, S. C.; Charlotte, N. C., and other points along the way.

On my arrival in Washington I met that noble-hearted man, Dr. J. W. Becket, who made me welcome to his comfortable home, and had me preach to his people in the great Metropolitan Church. I also called to see the late Bishop Brown, who was at that time very feeble, but no one surmised the end so nigh. I loved Bishop Brown. He treated me as a father would treat his son. I can never forget the afternoon that I left him.

After helping me to adjust my wrappings, he laid his trembling hand upon my head and said: "My son, you are going to Africa; you will have it hard over there, but be faithful. We will pray for you, and help you in every way that we can. Don't expose yourself while you are North. God bless you." I left him. He died before I reached Africa; but I shall see him again.

Washington is a beautiful city. The streets are broad; the buildings are large, substantial and artistic. Toward the east the national Capitol lifts its dome heavenward. In a northerly direction the famous Howard University is conspicuous by its towering spire and streaming flag. Here can be seen prominent persons from all parts of the globe. Westward is the Washington Monument, which resembles a great snow-covered shaft, glittering five hundred and fifty-five feet in the sunlight.

I stood upon the spot where the immortal Garfield fell, a victim to the assassin's bullet. Oh, what strange emotions ran through my soul as I stood on that sacred spot.

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I thought of the noble dead on the battlefield, in the college halls, in the Senate chamber, and in the Executive Mansion. His, like the death of the immortal Lincoln, "shook the universe."

I left Washington for Baltimore, Md., one cold afternoon. Before reaching my destination, the snow began falling at a fearful rate, and cold--heavens, me! I did not stay in Baltimore long. While there I met Rev. Jas. H. A. Johnson, who was then pastor of Bethel Church, one of the largest churches in the connection, and the doctor said times were so very hard in Baltimore that I soon decided that I would proceed at once to Philadelphia.

It was ten o'clock one bleak Saturday night when I arrived in the "City of Brotherly Love." The snow was deep, and a stiff, cold blizzard was blowing from the north. I secured a cab and was driven to the Gilbert House, where I obtained good accommodations. Sunday morning came and I trudged my way through the deep snow to "Old Bethel" Church, where I heard Rev. W. D. Cook, the pastor, preach an interesting sermon.

As I sat on that historic spot, made sacred by the tears, prayers and labors of Richard Allen and his coadjutors, my soul became so full of the Holy Spirit that I could not restrain my tears.

It was a happy day with me. Everything seemed touched with heavenly beauty and sacredness. The upper choir seemed to lend their voice to song, and God seemed to inspire every prayer.

Oh, what a precious time. It was truly a day of great feasting to my poor soul. At 7:30 o'clock I tried to preach to an immense congregation in "Old Bethel." The Holy Ghost came down and took possession of me, and I stood before the élite and gigantic intellect of that great city without fear or dread.

It was not me; but the Holy Spirit that took dread fear away. Of myself I can do nothing. Oh, God, give me thy Holy Spirit whenever I attempt to preach thy blessed word. Philadelphia is a vast city. There are many places of interest in and around Philadelphia. The great Zoölogical Garden, the Government Mint, the public buildings, the Penn Statue, the great parks, etc., are all places worth seeing.

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I spent more than a month in and around Philadelphia preaching, lecturing, and working in behalf of my African trip. I visited Camden, Trenton, Princeton, N. J.; New York. At the last-named place I met that grand, philanthropic, Christian gentleman, Dr. John Miller, who gave me $200 to assist me in my African trip. Dr. Miller is growing old, but is nevertheless vigorous, especially intellectually. He has written several books which rank high in the literary and theological world. While Dr. Miller is white, educated and rich, yet he is free from prejudice, for which his race is so characteristic.

In Trenton I found a warm friend in the person of Rev. Seth D. W. Smith. Bro. Smith and his good people gave me $8.00 to help me on to my distant field of labor.

While in Philadelphia I formed a correspondence with a young lady who was at the time teaching in the public schools of Maryland. Several letters were exchanged, an agreement made, and in a short time I was on my way to Pocomoke City, Md., to see Miss Fannie M. Worthington, of Washington, D. C.

On my arrival I found her at the depot awaiting my coming. I spent several days in Pocomoke. After some serious questions had been propounded and satisfactorily answered, we set February 7th as the time for our marriage.

I returned to Philadelphia to await the date of this important event. True to her promise, she joined me in Camden, N. J., where our marriage took place in the residence of Rev. A. H. Newton; Rev. A. H. Newton and Rev. H. T. Johnson, Ph.D., performed the sacred matrimonial rites.

A few days before our leaving for Africa, my wife's mother, Mrs. Rachel A. Piles, came from Washington to Camden to see us off. She is a woman of fine parts. I love her as though she was my own dear mother. February 17 we bade mother and friends adieu, and left for New York City. Soon we were in the great metropolis, and proceeded to Sullivan Street A. M. E. Church. Here we met Bishop Turner and several brethren from Philadelphia, Camden, and Princeton, N. J. Dr. Derrick gave the Bishop a farewell reception, which was poorly attended, owing, possibly, to the severity of the weather. Oh, my! How cold it was!

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We spent the night with a dear old sister, near the church. God bless her!

Thus ends a brief account of a three-mouths' tour through the United States of America.

For most part, the entire trip of thousands of miles was pleasant and profitable.

Our cause seemed to be the people's cause, hence wherever presented we received a hearty response. It is true, here and there we met those who seemed to look upon us with suspicion, and treated us coolly, but so rarely was such the case that we gave the rebuffs but little or no notice. Strange to say, but wherever we seemed unwelcome the ministers were directly or indirectly the cause of it. The people of various congregations were always open-handed and warm-hearted. Not one exception to this rule can we remember.

But truly we have some narrow brethren holding high positions in our churches.

Personal gain seems to have absorbed all their higher and nobler senses.

Of all narrow, conniving and self-important men, those under the garb of the ministry are the most detestable.

However, we have many reasons to feel proud of the signal success that attended our labors during such an extensive tour. We feel duty bound to make personal reference to the unmeasured kindness that we received at the hands of Rev. I. W. L. Roundtree and Dr. H. T. Johnson while in the East. They seemed ever ready to lend us a helping hand. In their homes we were made welcome and shared as a member of their families; in Rev. Roundtree's church we were accorded every ministerial courtesy that could be wished.

                         Father of all mercy,
                         Thy name be praised
                         For the great protection
                         Thou hast granted a child
                         Of such sinful disposition,
                         And such wandering ways.

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CHAPTER II.
VOYAGE TO ENGLAND.

Wednesday morning, February 22, 1893, we embarked on that grand steamship "Majestic" for Liverpool, England. Our ship steamed out of port at 10 o'clock a. m. Revs. H. T. Johnson, D.D., editor Christian Recorder; W. D. Cook, A. H. Newton, W. H. Davis, I. W. L. Roundtree, A.M.; J. B. Standsberry, D.D., and W. B. Derrick, D.D., came down to the pier to see us off. It was a very sad parting with me, as wife and I were to be gone for four years to labor in the wilds of Africa as missionaries, perhaps never to return. However, we bore up as best we could. We gazed at our friends ashore until they were lost in the distance, then, going to our rooms, quieted down, put all in the hands of a just God, and began to behold the grandeur of the great ocean. At times the ocean was very rough, tossing our great ship as though she had been a mere bubble in the midst of a terrific storm. Often the wind blew so hard that the waves could not rise high, but, oh my, after the winds abated, what giant waves would lash our ship; the angry billows would pile up mountain high as far as the eye could behold; white-crested, they resembled mountains covered with snow. There is nothing that causes the soul to revere and humble before the Almighty more than a careful examination and study of the mighty ocean. I mean nothing in nature.

I have seen many grand--yes, exquisitely grand--and charming scenes, but I must confess that the most soul-inspiring, the most sublime, the most glory-like scene that my eyes ever beheld was sun-rising on the ocean.

"Old Sol" mounted his chariot in all his regal splendor, chasing away the mist as he shed a flood of light upon the placid ocean with becoming dignity to his royalty; each ray reflected upon the ocean with such astonishing brilliancy that one might imagine the mighty waters strewn with diamonds.

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Who would not bow before such a God as He who created the great ocean so pregnant with wonders? I love Him more than ever for allowing me the privilege of seeing this wonderful display of His mighty power.

The sane mind that, after seeing this stupendous ocean, would say "there is no God" deserves to be classed among brutes and not among human beings.

Another most delightful sight is "sunset at sea." It is also full of serious reflections and valuable consideration. It is the unfailing sign that another day is gone, that we are nearer our eternal home; that time does not wait, but is ever hastening on and is lost in eternity. As the light of the "master of day" is lost behind the western horizon, the once sparkling waters are transformed into a dark blue hue, and as the receding rays are being replaced by darkness the evening of our days are plainly pictured to the mind's eye; then with the imagination we see ourselves receding from time to be lost in eternity.

But one of the most solemn, reflective, and death-like occasions that I have ever experienced is "night at sea." It affords an opportunity for earnest thought and serious meditation. The deep thunder-like roar of the irritated waters, the mournful whisper of the weeping winds, the struggling vessel forcing its way through the angry billows, are all lessons from which much can be learned. But often the melancholy scenes of "a night at sea" is transformed into that of grandeur and solemnity. We gaze with admiration at the distant stars; the "silvery queen" of night (if not obscured by wandering clouds) often breaks the monotony of "a night at sea." Sometimes a lighthouse is espied in the far distance, the flickering light is only seen now and then until the "good ship" comes nearer and nearer, leaving distance behind, then it is that we realize the lines of the immortal Sankey, "Let the lower lights be burning," to express the sentiment of our souls.

One day while out on mid-ocean it was whispered that one of the shafts of the propeller had broken and the ship much disabled. Wild consternation prevailed until the master mechanic stated "the breakage has been repaired and the ship will reach port all right." Oh, what an alleviation to our troubled minds.

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We reached Queenstown early one beautiful morning. Several small crafts came out to our ship to take passengers and cargo to Ireland. The sight of land was quite a relief, for it was the first we had seen since leaving New York.

The remainder of the voyage was uneventful. Soon we were anchored in the dock at Liverpool. After satisfying the demands of the custom house officers, we were conveyed to the St. George Hotel, where we were well provided for during our stay. Liverpool, as is well known, is the greatest shipping mart in the world.

The city presents quite an "old-time" appearance. The houses for most part are crude, the streets rough and well thronged with nearly every species of mankind. I never saw such an array of beggars and infirm people as I saw in England. There was great excitement prevailing on account of the starving condition of thousands of people who could not obtain work and who threatened an uprising unless the avenues of labor were opened. Twice a day hundreds of hungry and enraged men assembled at the Wellington Monument where inflammatory speeches were made, necessitating a strong corps of officers ready for any emergency. I spent nearly two weeks rambling about the great cities of this famous country. While in Liverpool I visited the most important public places.

The museum, however, fell far below my expectation. It does not begin to compete with those of Boston, Philadelphia, Washington and Cincinnati in the United States. It was my privilege to meet many distinguished men, speak to several large congregations, meet the Young Men's Christian Association, and interview the secretary concerning their great work in different parts of the country. I also had the privilege of dining at the great Northwestern Hotel, in company with Bishop Turner and Hon. Sando, a millionaire of London.

One thing to the everlasting credit of England, she is free from color prejudices:

Color is in no way a barrier in Europe, but seems rather a blessing. Everybody appears interested in the colored brother.

I did not go to London in company with Bishop Turner and my wife, preferring to wait until my return from Africa,

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when I would have more time to see the wonders of that great city.

Bishop Turner relates some funny things in connection with his trip to London. Of course, while there the Bishop was anxious, among other places, to visit the British Museum. On entering this most wonderful place of the kind in the world, the Bishop's attention was turned to a rather dignified looking gentleman, quietly reclining in a chair, smoking a cigar; very naturally the Bishop saluted the gentleman, "Good morning, sir," but received no response; feeling quite sure that his salutation was not heard, he addressed the gentleman in a much louder and more excited tone of voice, but again received no response from the objective point, but was informed that this gentleman was a "wax figure only," and not a human being. This more laughable than grave mistake somewhat nonplussed the good Bishop, but he queeringly passed on; however, in the course of his perambulation he passed a beautiful young lady sewing, with a pleasant smile upon her face; the Bishop paused, and likewise saluted her, but received no response; feeling sure that he was not mistaken, he saluted her the second time, and to his great surprise, was once more informed that she, too, was "wax."

Very much annoyed, but with a step of independence, the Bishop pursued his course, to be soon confronted by a gentleman, sitting at a small table, writing; feeling the embarrassment of two repeated deceptions, the Bishop was determined not to fall victim to a third one, and before saluting the gentleman in the usual manner, he said, "Say, mister, are you living or dead?" The gentleman being no doubt aware of the fearful ordeal through which the Bishop bad passed, laughed and said, "Sir, I am living."

My visit to London and other English cities will appear in another chapter.

I found the English people to be very progressive, especially in church work. Various societies are operated at Liverpool in behalf of mission work in India, Africa and other foreign lands.

The Wesleyan Methodist Church is very strong in England. I visited many of their fine churches, and formed the acquaintance of a number of their most eminent men.

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But I must say I found England a somewhat difficult field for missionary contribution. We were much surprised at the suspicion of the preachers. This, however, in our case, might have been largely due to overstrain of the country financially as well as to the great sums of money expended in Africa by the English churches. I was everywhere received as a brother and gentleman. Not a sneer, to my knowledge, was given me anywhere in all that great land. God bless the English people. England has already been the seat of philanthropy, religion and education. On her historic shore Frederick Douglass, the great American orator, attained his freedom; her people were first of foreign lands to express indignation at the heinous deeds of the American white people perpetrated upon defenseless Negroes; and it was "Old England" that with bateless breath listened to the plaintive cry of Ida B. Wells, the heroine of her race. Long live her pious queen; long wave her imperial flag, and long live her noble people to assist in behalf of the oppressed of mankind.

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CHAPTER III.
FROM ENGLAND TO AFRICA.

We embarked on the steamship Teneriffe Saturday, March 18, at 10 o'clock A. M., for the west coast of Africa. The accommodation on this small vessel was poor compared to that given on the great Majestic. On account of our lateness in securing passage, Bishop Turner, Rev. Vreeland and myself were all packed in one small room, while my wife and a young lady from Liverpool occupied another equally as poorly furnished.

The voyage was long, the ocean rough, and the scenes varied and attractive. After three days' sailing we were all out on the dreadful Bay of Biscay. This is the most boisterous part of the ocean, hence the most dreaded.

On Sunday night a most terrific storm raged all night long on this "ocean graveyard." The winds blew with such tremendous force that every moment seemed the last. Great excitement prevailed among both crew and passengers. Possibly no man on board was more calm than Bishop Turner. Rev. Vreeland came near being carried overboard by a monster wave that swept over the promenade deck. Brother Vreeland was so thankful for his escape that he came down in our state-room and offered a most earnest prayer. All night and well up in the next day this dreadful storm raged. Very few passengers were able to take their meals.

The following lines were suggested to my mind after we had passed through this most trying ordeal. I give them as I penned them down, feeling sure that they will be of interest to some one who may read them:

A NIGHT ON THE BAY OF BISCAY.

                         Thou dreadful Bay of Biscay,
                         How cruel thou hast been;
                         For in thy bosom sleepeth
                         Ten thousand made thy prey.

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                         Thy waves are dark and angry,
                         Thy billows rough and wild,
                         And kindness to the travelers
                         Thou always hast denied.

                         I know thee, Bay of Biscay,
                         From treatment done to me;
                         'Twas only through my Saviour
                         I escaped from being thy prey.

                         Oh, cruel Bay of Biscay,
                         God looketh down on thee,
                         And least when thou expecteth,
                         Hell set thy captives free.

                         For years thou hast held them captive,
                         In a dungeon dark and cold;
                         But when their Saviour cometh
                         He'll wrest them from thy fold.

                         One dark and starless night
                         My heart was made to ache,
                         While tossed to and fro
                         Upon thy angry waves.

                         Thy furious billows roared,
                         The wind shrieked shrill and loud;
                         Our struggling vessel groaned
                         Beneath the angry cloud.

                         The terror of that night
                         I never can forget,
                         And always shall my Saviour thank,
                         That my poor life was spared.

Our first call was at Grand Canary Island. This island belongs to Spain, hence the place is largely composed of Spaniards, a dark-complexioned people, and the women are very pretty. The whole island is supposed to be a volcanic eruption that took place possibly thousands of years ago.

Bishop Turner, who is quite a philosopher, declares this to be a fact. One of the most mysterious features connected with this island is the formation of a sand-bed, when the entire place is free from sand otherwise. Some suppose the sand to be brought to the surface by minute insects; others claim the cause due to the winds sweeping over the great Sahara desert, which is only eighty miles away, bringing, so to speak, great showers of sand upon their wings and depositing them at the base of the Canary mountain, where this bed of sand is formed. However, no well-founded solution has as yet been advanced upon

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this phenomenon of nature. Coming scientists will doubtless find the reason why, and publish it to the world. It was here that Bishop Turner saw the mirage of a ship, or an "optical illusion," which is caused from an unequal refraction in the lower strata of the atmosphere, and causing remote objects to be doubly inverted, suspended in air, approximated or changed, or as if reflected in water. The object is a novel one and may only be seen once during a lifetime.

A number of savage-looking Spaniards came aboard of our ship with cigars, fruits, canary birds, and many other things to sell.

My wife looks very much like a Spanish lady, which caused these rough-looking Spanish men to give her special notice, which was not at all pleasant to her.

Grand Canary, to say the least, is a beautiful place, and a great health-resort for invalids from Germany, France, England, and Africa.

Our next call was at Goree, a small French town of no particular importance other than its traces of war with Great Britain and other powers in years gone by. Here a number of native Africans came aboard; also many Mohammedans from the Sahara desert took passage for Sierra Leone. I was much amazed at these Mohammedans on account of their peculiar dress. They all wore loose garments carelessly thrown about their persons. The men and women were so nearly dressed alike until it was difficult to tell them apart. They were very devout. Each morning and evening they gave the most profound reverence to God, according to their belief. I found them to be very superstitious and extremely averse to Christianity. Our stay at Goree was short and uneventful.

From Goree we sailed direct to Bathurst, an English town of considerable importance. Here we went ashore, wandered over the town, made some few acquaintances, attended the Wesleyan church, where Bishop Turner preached an eloquent sermon. Oh, the singing was more angelic than human. The great organ pealed forth in solemn tones, carrying the soul back more than eighteen hundred years, to the scene of the crucifixion of our blessed Saviour. It was Good Friday, and an enormous

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congregation had assembled to celebrate the most memorable event in the history of the world.

I never heard such soul-inspiring singing in all my life, except in the great Metropolitan Church in Washington, D. C.

Having crossed over into the tropics, we found Bathurst very hot indeed. We sailed from Bathurst to Sierra Leone without stopping at any of the small ports by the way, arriving in Freetown, Sierra Leone, April 4, 1893.

On account of a death that occurred on our ship between Liverpool and Bathurst, we were not allowed to disembark until late in the afternoon, and as the night was very dark we remained on board all night and disembarked early next morning. Oh, my! how warm it was. How strange everything appeared.

Thus ended a journey of more than fifteen thousand miles, seven thousand of which was on the bosom of the great Atlantic ocean. I had wandered all through Arkansas, Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia, South Carolina, North Carolina, Virginia, District of Columbia, Maryland, Delaware, Pennsylvania, New Jersey and New York.

When I look back over the immense journey, fraught with dangers on every hand; when I remember how sinful and worthless I have been compared with others of God's servants, and then find myself here on the shores of our fatherland with health and strength, trying to preach the gospel to my dear kinsman, who are bound by the strong cords of heathenism, I can but exclaim in the language of the Psalmist: "Praise the Lord, O, my soul, and forget not all His benefits." I here, on this, the tenth (10th) day of October, 1893, reconsecrate myself to my Saviour and His great work.

Oh, Lord, have mercy upon my poor soul, and spare my life to accomplish some good among these poor heathen souls.

                         "Guide me, oh, thou great Jehovah,
                         Pilgrim through this barren land,
                         I am weak, but Thou art mighty,
                         Hold me with Thy powerful hand.
                         Strong Deliverer
                         Be Thou still my sword and shield."

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The hope of my life has at last materialized. I have been spared and privileged to stand upon the free soil of Africa. I now know what it is to be a free man. I feel that life is worth living. But, oh, my mind runs back to the blood-stained soil of America! Ten millions of my fellowmen loom up before me; the dismal reign of terror that there prevails pains my very soul.

However, the future affords some light. Education and exalted manhood will doubtless actuate thousands of young men and women to leave the haunts of American slavery and pitch their tents on the free and sacred soil of Africa, and assist in the establishment of a mighty negro empire.

We hope to see such a period. God knows our condition is awful. Only divine interposition can ameliorate it. Perhaps the fearful catastrophe that has swept down upon the race is a divine visitation to stir up the American negro and drive them home.

Moral cowardice, God despises; slavery is an abomination in His sight. All men are equal before Him, since He created all.

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CHAPTER IV.
AFRICA.

First we shall present a few facts and pass upon some of the many things that have come under our observation in West Africa, and especially in the Colony of Sierra Leone.

Freetown has a population of 40,000 civilized and semi-civilized people.

The town contains many well-built houses in a good state of repair, though adjoining them there is a string of wooden shanties of various shapes and sizes.

In addition to the numerous well-to-do stores, many of them owned by natives, every African is possessed with the praiseworthy ambition of becoming a householder, and to accomplish this end he will live for years in the strictest economy, until the happy day arrives when he can blossom into a full-fledged landlord. To such an extent does this feeling prevail, that it is looked upon as a reproach for any native in a comparatively well-to-do position not to own one house at least.

The principal part of the town has therefore a clean and bright appearance, enhanced by the broadness of the streets, laid out on a regular plan. The appearance of these is much improved by a pathway of grass on each side, which affords a pleasing relief to the hard, red earth, baked by the all-powerful sun. There is a spacious fruit market close to the wharf. Here, early in the morning, may be seen a wealth of tropical fruits; bunches of plantains, bananas and large size pineapples are jostled by green and brown-skin oranges, while custard apples, avercardo pears, melons, mangoes, guavas, limes and other tropical fruits, besides a profusion of vegetables are scattered about on the clean stalls. On most of these small articles of personal vanity, and cheap mirrors and knives, are exposed in tempting juxtaposition to the necessaries of life, and probably encourage the native servants to make a slight difference in

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their accounts of their purchases in order to obtain whichever of these luxuries that may excite their envy.

Surely in no tower of Babel could more noise have been made than is heard here on a busy morning, while the gaudy print handkerchiefs and gowns of the women enliven the ever-changing scene. The services of policemen on duty are seldom required to enforce order, everything is conducted good humoredly.

Yet the shouting, gesticulating, gleaming ivories and glistening eyes would lead a stranger to believe that a never ending battle of arms and tongues is proceeding. Close by the market place the Cathedral is situated, with its large windows which, unfortunately, only open in one or two absurd places, and consequently let in too much garish light, and far too little air. The structure is devoid of architectural beauty. The next building of considerable importance is the Wilberforce Memorial Hall, a monument to the honor of that philanthropic gentleman for whom our great Wilberforce University is named. Many of the churches are large and well arranged. The military headquarters are situated on the very top of the great Sierra Leone mountains. The sweet music of the well-disciplined orchestra rolls down the mountain sides in the most soul-inspiring tones. The wharf presents a grand aspect when a number of vessels from all parts of the world are lying in port. The most salubrious breeze sweeps over the gentle waters, which sparkle under the radiance of a tropical sun.

Freetown is a beautiful African town. The sanitary regulations are fairly good; the city hospital is commendable, as is the other benevolent institutions of the colony.

We regard the British Government a godsend in Africa. Thousands of the people, who, had it not been for Great Britain, who are now educated and in easy circumstances, would have been savage heathen. In all of the government departments are progressive, young men employed as clerks, etc., at good salaries. The leading lawyer of the town is a colored man. He has won high honors, not only in his own country but in England as well. The queen's advocate is a native African. Time and again he has filled the high and responsible office of "chief justice" of the colony with honor and dignity.

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Africa, according to accepted history, once stood at the head of all other countries in commercial and architectural greatness. Ancient Egypt, we have no doubt, was the abode of native Africans. We are not unmindful of the many futile efforts that have been put forth to prove that the ancient Egyptians were not Africans. Prejudice and hatred for the negro race have actuated modern historians to use their utmost endeavors to rob the sons of Ham, not only of Africa, but of every other laudable achievement which they have gained.

But we cannot expect more from a people who are blinded by prejudice, and ignorant of the real facts in the case. However, we are often disgusted at those of our own nationality, who should do all in their power to defend the race from furious assaults, joining in with our race enemies, and likewise endeavor to disprove our relation to the ancient Egyptians. We can but look upon such persons with contempt and brand them either with the most profound ignorance or the basest race hypocrites.

It is not that opposition from without that injures the negro race so much, but those continuous collisions, revolts, and warfares within. We, as a race, have not as yet learned the importance of unity and race love. I am sure that many who pose as race leaders and wiseacres upon the negro question, have not studied the subject sufficient to arrive at intelligent conclusions. We are too willing to grant the requests of our enemies and accept what they say concerning the past, present and future of the race as true. This is wrong. Let us weigh matters and examine statements before we concede to them truth and recognition. I remember some years ago hearing one of our most fluent orators laboring to convince his hearers that the negro race had no history; that all this talk of the negro's past greatness in Egypt was foolishness; that the Egyptians were white folks, etc. Of course those who heard this tirade of false statements, for most part, were ignorant of the facts in the case, and accepted what they heard as true, hence deafening applause time and again went up, bidding the enthusiastic speaker to lie on. Our people must learn to spurn with indignation anything that reflects discredit upon the race. I do not wish to convey the idea here that we should

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palliate the wrongs of our people, but there is a more judicious and corrective manner by which such wrongs can be adjusted. I fear we are too ready to give sanction to things of which we are totally ignorant.

Why should the negro despise Africa?

Why should he join the enemies of the race and heap a mountain of abuse upon the country, and help rob a despised and oppressed people of their just rights?

Despite all criticism, impediments, prejudices, strife, and hatred, Africa is steadily rising in the estimation of the civilized world. White men, women and children from all parts of Europe and America are continually flocking to her borders. Her gold, silver, diamonds, rubber, and numberless other valuables have a charm that mankind cannot resist.

I mean that class of mankind that has the ability to grasp the situation and reap the harvest. The European imperils his life in search of the hidden riches of Africa. He climbs her mountains, swims her streams, penetrates her forests, confronts her natives to enrich himself and his posterity. They come to this country as missionaries, teachers, merchants, mechanics, explorers, and generals; large companies conduct immense business in every available section of the country; they soon amass fortunes and return home and spend their remaining days in ease and luxury.

Young white men and their wives come here, brave the climate, exclude themselves from society for twenty, thirty and forty years, in order to grow rich and leave a legacy for their children.

But, alas, for the poor negro! Every country is better to him than Africa.

He will extol negro-hating America to the skies; he will boast of her railroads, telegraphs, schools and churches, which mean nothing on earth to him; but turning to Africa, his ancestral home, the land of fruits, gold, silver, and diamonds, and best of all, the land of freedom--I say the negro turns to Africa with a frown, and contemptuously exclaims, I'M NO AFRICAN!

The negro seems to think that Africa is the most debased, shameful, and worthless country on earth. He seems to feel himself humiliated and outraged when associated with

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Africa. He seems to forget that Africa furnished civilization for the world, and hence stands to-day as the mother of art, science and civilization. Four thousand years have not produced a people whose architectural genius has measured up to that of the ancient Egyptians. The grand old pyramids stand as everlasting witnesses of the negro's past greatness and future possibilities.

What rational, cool and thinking people would be ashamed to own kinship with such a country and such a people?

The modern historians, especially, have been busy trying to rob the negro of Africa's greatness. They are proud of the most remote relation to African civilization and greatness. Among the earlier historians, however, such was not the case. Let us here examine a few of the most celebrated historians of the world, and see what their views were of Africa and her people. In "Christianity, Islam and the Negro," a book written by Rev. E. W. Blyden, L.L.D., the following appears on page 175: "The secular poets and historians of those times also bear witness to the excellence of Ethiopian character. Homer, the prince of poets, and Herodotus, the father of history, both speak in praise of them.

"In the earliest tradition of nearly all the more civilized nations of antiquity, the name of this distant people is found. The annals of the Egyptian priests were full of them; the nations of inner Asia, on the Euphrates and Tigris, have interwoven the fictions of the Ethiopian with their own traditions of the conquests and wars of their heroes; and at a period equally remote they glimmer in Greek mythology. When the Greeks scarcely knew Italy and Sicily by name, the Ethiopians were celebrated in the verse of their poets; they spoke of them as the 'remotest nations,' the 'most just of men,' the 'favorites of the gods.' The lofty inhabitants of Olympus journey to them, and take part in their feasts; their sacrifices are the most agreeable of all that mortals can offer them. And when the faint gleam of tradition and fable gives way to the clear light of history, the lustre of the Ethiopians is not diminished. They still continue the object of curiosity and admiration, and the pen of cautious, clear-sighted historians often places them in the highest ranks of knowledge and civilization."

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History is pregnant with the most favorable references to the negro in his primitive stage of life. The negro, under the light of an impartial civilization, shone brightly amidst the national constellations.

His standing as a man, a citizen, and nobleman, was never questioned until his exile and enslavement. Slavery, the most direful evil of which a nation can be the victim, is the source from which all our national and social troubles sprung. When a people has been subjected to years of cruel bondage, among strangers in a foreign land, and yet maintain the moral courage that characterizes the African ex-slaves, we need not doubt the ability of such a people to rise to a wonderful height in religion and civilization.

With all the lamentable defects of the ex-slave, with his apparent non-interest in his native land; with the powerful tendencies toward white men absorption, in principle, habit, etc.; when we consider the extreme low depths from which the race has come, we can but acknowledge that they have displayed a wonderful amount of tact and heroism.

Doubtless no people have surpassed them under similar circumstances.

But notwithstanding all this to the credit of the race, there are many among the dominant races who argue the inability of the negro to attain national greatness.

Just here I wish to say, that to my mind the negro in foreign lands must return home and become renegroized, if you please, before be can fully appreciate himself and his people. For nearly three hundred years the American negro has been away from home; two hundred and forty-seven years of this time he served as a slave, subjected to the most inhuman treatment; whipped, sold, terrorized in numberless ways; in every instance he was reminded of his inferiority, as reckoned from the white man's stand-point. He was taught as a slave that the most commendable thing he could do was to be an honest, obedient negro to the laws of master and mistress; everywhere he turned the white man was lord and ruler; finally, with such strong environments, many of the weaker minds succumbed to the almost inevitable and formed the opinion that God created the white man to rule and the negro to serve. Such convictions are dangerous to the race, for when the negro

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becomes satisfied to occupy a secondary position in the affairs of the world, his aspirations will never rise higher. Under such conditions we would virtually be a slave. Voluntary slavery is far more dangerous and destructive than compulsory slavery. One controls the mind, while the other controls the body.

In one state, the individual is content to eke out a miserable existence, while in the other state the outraged individual resents the blow and wrestles to throw off the burden.

Freedom is a great blessing. Freedom brings on responsibility, responsibility gives rise to necessity, necessity gives birth to industry, industry begets wealth, and wealth begets independence, and independence demands recognition, and will have it. So it is plain that a race can never fully develop under such restrictive laws and regulations. Such is the condition of the American negro. Freedom has been fought for and gloriously won, but has never been thoroughly established and vindicated. He is forced in every department of life to occupy a secondary position. His color is looked upon with scorn and contempt. His very presence is obnoxious in white society. Separate cars, hotels, barber-shops, churches, etc., are provided for his accommodation. No degree of qualification fits him for lofty position. He is placed below the most worthless of white society. His skin is a badge of inferiority with Europeans or white men.

Now tell me that a race can fully develop under such conditions!

Never!

Now what are some of the most discouraging features of the American negro's existence and history to-day?

First. As a rule he regards the white men as being supreme, which is an indirect concession to the false theory that the negro is constitutionally inferior to the white man.

Second. The strong and ever-pressing unwritten law, born and established in the days of slavery, "that America is a white man's country," and that the negroes have no rights that white men are compelled to respect," has been virtually conceded by the American negroes; hence the mob violence, the impositions upon unprotected negro women,

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and various other calamities inflicted upon the race, without even the appearance of resentment. What do we see? White men have no fears whatever to insult our wives, our daughters, and murder our men in the most shameful manner. To-day every negro woman is a subject for insult and debauchery for lustful and unprincipled white men.

Who in the South have not been pained to behold the moral ruin of our most beautiful girls who have become the concubines of white men, and seem to regard it as an honor? In America, to be white implies all the greatness and graces of the universe. Almost every negro is trying to get white. Nobody wants to be black. Even black ministers are rejected by negro congregations.

These things show the drift of public sentiment. One of the most distinguished colored ministers of the United States was asked to resign the pastoral supervision of his church, not long since, wholly upon the ground of his dark complexion.

In more than one of the large American cities can be found negroes who have separated themselves from those of their race in whose veins the blood of the proud Caucasian does not flow.

I certainly regard such race divisions as omens of dreadful consequences to the race.

But we must reason from cause to effect. There is a cause for every effect. As we have said elsewhere, to be white in America, is an incontrovertible evidence of superiority. Man being of an ambitious nature and wishing to be associated with all supposed greatness (the negro being no exception to the rule), he is willing to sever all his race relations to gain the most remote and deceptive relations with the dominant race. The negro, daily suffering from the effects of colorphobia, when not endowed with great race proclivities, will resort to the most unnatural means to ameliorate his condition. To the thoughtful mind such tendencies betoken an unhealthy state of things for our future as a distinct race of people. Negroes, irrespective of the amount of Caucasian blood that may course their veins, are regarded as negroes in the fullest sense of the word, and are treated as such.

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The octoroon can come no nearer social equality than the pure-blooded African.

All negroes are placed in the same category. They all suffer the same direful evils. They all meet the same barriers in the path of human greatness.

But there seems to be a selfish pride roaming the bosom of many mixed-blooded negroes. Their conclusions are based upon the grounds of divine preference to white, a doctrine conceived in sin and born of iniquitous parents, and dates its birth to the introduction of American slavery. Such a spirit should be checked. It will, if continued, entail indescribable disgrace upon the race. It will put a club in the hands of negro-beaters to pound our race's heads with.

Again, this subject has a moral feature of great importance. As has already been said, hundreds of negro women think it an honor to be the mistresses of white men. Why is this? Nothing less than the universal eulogy lavished upon the haughty Caucasian, and the endless denunciations, criticisms, and misrepresentations heaped upon the poor black man. It was my unpleasant privilege to hear a woman of light complexion hurl the daring epithets in the face of her husband, that she was sorry that she was identified with the negro race, that she would have married a white man had her grandmother not been so black, etc.

No woman can be a true wife who deplores the complexion of her husband.

It is said that a race can never rise above the mothers; hence, if this impure and unnatural blood is continually being poured into the veins of our women, how can we entertain hope for the race under such conditions?

So we hold that the negro can never develop into gigantic manhood under the stultifying influences of American caste.

Such is not the case in Africa. Here the sentiment is just the reverse. The natives cling to their traditions just as tenaciously as does the proud Caucasian to the history of England or America. He sees something great in negroes. He sees God as a great controlling principle looking upon all nations with the same degree of respect, and according to each and all sacred rights that demand recognition binding with equal importance.

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However, before we further proceed along this line, let us refer to the primitive history of this great continent and her native inhabitants.

The following occurs in that remarkable book written by Dr. Blyden, on page 176, in the form of a quotation:

"But no one who has traveled in Northeastern Africa, or among the ruins of the banks of the Nile, will for a moment doubt that there was the connection, not of accident or of adventitious circumstances, but of consanguinity, between the races of inner Africa of the present day and the ancient Egyptians and Ethiopians. To get rid of the responsibility of brotherhood to the negro, an American professor, in an elaborate work, claims for the tropical African pre-Adamite origin, and ignores his relationship with Ham. His argument, however, is as yet beneath the level of scientific criticism. The expressions of Volney, the great French traveler, after visiting the magnificent ruins of Egypt, are expressed as follows: 'When I visited the Sphinx I could not help thinking the figure of that monster furnished the true solution of the enigma; when I saw its features precisely those of a negro, I recollected the remarkable passage of Herodotus in which be says: "For my part, I believe Colchi to be a colony of Egyptians, because, like them, they have black skins and frizzled hair, that is, that the ancient Egyptians were real negroes of the same species with all the natives of Africa." This historical fact affords to philosophy an interesting subject of reflection. How are we astonished when we reflect that to the race of negroes, at present our slaves and the objects of our extreme contempt, we owe our arts, sciences, and even the very use of our speech.'"

Here we have substantial evidence of the past greatness of the African in his primitive state. He was remarkable for learning and wealth. Powerful in war, yet congenial and liberal.

But even members of the race have contradicted the statements of eye-witnesses of the past glories of negroland, so afraid they are that something "good will come out of Nazareth." As we have said before, it is astonishing how many, who pretend to be race lovers and advocates, will shut their eyes to every good and noble phase of negro history

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and seize with greed every deplorable feature connected thereto.

Nothing can be plainer and more convincing of negro greatness than the rapid progress the race has made in America since emancipation. Turned loose, as they were, ignorant, poor, handicapped, and despised; turned out as an old worn-out horse to die, they have struggled onward and upward, until to-day the race controls millions of dollars, churches, colleges, etc. Now, if a people can succeed so admirably under such adverse circumstances, what might we expect of them under more favorable circumstances.

But I must say just here, that I do not favor wholesale emigration to Africa.

After a careful study of the subject, I am convinced that it is not the best.

First. I oppose it on the grounds of race, poverty and ignorance.

It must be remembered that as yet there is a large percentage of ignorance among our people. Twenty-seven years is not sufficient time to educate and prepare millions of people who have spent two hundred years in bondage for the great work of governmental responsibilities. There is not sufficient experience in governmental affairs among our people at present for such an arduous task.

In addition to this, we have not the means. As a race, we are poor. We are not only poor, but we have not learned to unite our finance and conduct extensive business enterprises; there is a lack of confidence in each other, which has hindered our race progress in various ways. If such is the case in America, where the race is surrounded with the most experienced financiers, it is unreasonable to expect more in a heathen country where no examples are to be had from other races.

Again, the majority of negroes in America have become so absorbed in white men's rule, that they are not willing to risk their chances in a country where a white man is not. Such people would be a menace and curse to the country. Very soon they would grow weary with the struggles incident to a heathen land, would begin to complain, censure, and long for the land from whence they came. Time and again have I heard prominent negroes say: "I would not live under a negro government."

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What is most needed along the line of emigration to Africa is a number of progressive, self-reliant families to emigrate here who have the country and its people at heart; who believe in the possibility of the negro to succeed; who are willing to suffer for a season to plant deep the precious seed of national progress and independence. Two millions of such families would be a godsend to Africa. But to deport the millions of ignorant, helpless, and non-progressive negroes from America to this country would plunge the land into a state of conflict and poverty such as the world has never seen.

Persons coming to Africa should study well the situation; thoroughly prepare themselves; have a natural love for the land of their fathers, then come on.

I disapprove of the excitable manner that many of our "African emigration" advocates go before the public. They simply preach emigration without presenting any feasible plan to execute the desired ends. There should be some well outlined policy adopted for the benefit of such persons as may wish to migrate hither. Africa presents an inviting field for the future greatness of self-reliant negroes. I especially insist upon those of our people who live in the mob-inflicted districts of the South to avail themselves of every opportunity to come to Africa, where they can have peace from the inhuman whitecaps and lynchers.

The condition of negroes in those sections grows more and more precarious. Our women of the South, especially, have gloomy surroundings. They have no protection whatever from capricious white men, who seem to have a burning desire to destroy their virtue. Colored husbands are not able to suppress these demons of colored society. I have seen colored ladies insulted on the streets in the very presence of their husbands, who were not courageous enough to retaliate the insult. These and many other evils equally as enormous are more than sufficient causes to force the people of color to hunt a more congenial clime.

Dr. C. S. Smith, D.D., in a sermon in Bethel A. M. E. Church in Chicago, during the "Great Fair" of 1893, fully expressed my feelings as regards the negroe's situation in America, and his relation to Africa, etc. We here quote just a few lines of that wonderful sermon:

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"Some people turn up their noses and say: 'Africa! I am not going to Africa.' What does Africa care? Africa would be impoverished by such people going there. Africa don't need me one thousandth part as much as I need Africa, and this is why I am going there on a tour of observation. Why do I need Africa? Why for the enlarged opportunities it will afford me; for the air of freedom which I can breathe there; for the privilege of going in and out among men and feeling that my color is no bar to me; and when I take their rough, black hands into my own, I will feel the touch of a brother."

I fully indorse every word Dr. Smith says. He has many advanced ideas upon the subject. But of all, he is coming to Africa and see for himself.

Dr. Smith further said:

"The man who simply goes with the gospel in his hands to any heathen land is a failure. If a man wants to be a power in any heathen land, let him go with the Bible in one hand and a hammer and saw in the other."

How true. What is needed in Africa is a moral, intellectual and industrial redemption. The gospel must be accompanied with all the essential elements of real progress or it will fail to accomplish the desired ends. The vast riches of this great continent are to be developed by trained heads and trained hands. The African youths must be given a practical education to enable them to perform well their part in the civilization of the continent. We have already mentioned the inexhaustible treasures hid away in the bowels of this giant continent. Her treasures of gold, silver, iron, etc.; her ivory, rubber, diamond, cam wood, and hundreds of other valuables. Her towering mountains, spacious plains, placid waters, luscious fruits, all of which await the return of her children in exile.

After all, Africa has a blessed history.

Dr. Blyden writes as follows concerning this old historic land:

"If we come down to New Testament times, we find again, Africans and their country appearing in honorable connections. When the Saviour of mankind, born in lowly circumstances, was the persecuted babe of Bethlehem, Africa furnished the refuge of his threatened and helpless infancy.

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African hands ministered to the comfort of Mary and Joseph while they sojourned as homeless and hunted strangers in that land. In the final hour of the Man of Sorrows, when his disciples had forsaken him and fled, and only the tears of sympathizing women followed in the distance, showed that his sorrows touched every human heart; when Asia, in the person of the Jews, clamored for his blood, and Europe in the Roman soldiers was dragging him to execution, and afterward nailed those sinless hands to the cross and pierced his sacred side, what was the part that Africa took then? She furnished the man to share the burden of the cross with the suffering Redeemer.

"Simon the Cyrenian bore the cross after Jesus. Fleecy locks and dark complexion thus enjoyed a privilege and an honor, and were invested with a glory in which kings and potentates, martyrs and confessors, in the long roll of ages would have been proud to participate.

"Africa, bleeding Africa, so long enslaved by despotic creed, will again take her place among the nations of the earth. When her children in exile, like the despised man of Galilee, will find no continual habitation, when they shall have been convinced of the love of a mother and shall return home, Africa, phenix-like, will arise from her long slumber and become the scene of indescribable glory and power. Historians, travelers and explorers may deride her; enemies of her children may scorn and laugh, but God has His own time to re-establish this land and redeem her people."

In our imagination we can see a second Hannibal controlling mighty armies; a second Constance with treasures of gold, and others of authority that none dare dispute.

Bishop H. M. Turner, one of the most learned and progressive men of the race, advocates the establishment of a negro government in Africa where the genius of the race can be displayed.

He claims for the race the most miserable existence in the United States of America.

For years Bishop Turner has exposed the dastardly crimes perpetrated upon the race by unprincipled members of the dominant race.

In the national convention of colored men which met in

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Cincinnati, November 28, 1893, in his opening address the Bishop used the following very pertinent and forcible language:

"But through some satanic legerdemain within the last three or four years the most fearful crimes have been charged upon the members of our race known to the catalogue of villainy, and death and destruction have stalked abroad with an insatiable carnivoracity that not only beggars description, but jeopardizes the life of every negro in the land, as any one could raise an alarm by crying rape, and some colored man must die whether he is the right one or whether it was the product of revenge or the mere cracking of a joke.

"The United States Congress and Supreme Court both have dumped the negro.

"Our supposed constitutional rights have been nullified, and the President of the United States can do nothing but give us a few second-hand positions, and those of us who are not dead are simply living by the grace of our respective communities, and we had as well realize our situation and pander to no sentimentality but that which involves our honor and manhood.

"Congress can legislate for the protection of the fish of the sea and the seals that gambol in our waters, and oblige its men, its money, its navy, its army, and its flag to protect them; but the 8,000,000 or 10,000,000 of its black men and women, made in the image of God, possessing $265,000,000 worth of taxable property, with all their culture, refinement and in many instances, noble bearing, must be turned off to become the prey of violence, and when we appeal to the general government for recognition and protection, Justice, so-called, drops her scales and cries, away with you."

We feel free to say no man living is better acquainted with the true condition of the American negro, than Bishop Turner.

Hence the views of such a man deserve reflection and consideration. When a man of Bishop Turner's invincibleness comes to the point that he is forced to raise the alarm, we should heed the warning.

However, many think to the contrary. They fear no evil. They apprehend no danger of more serious race conflicts,

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but predict smooth sailing and bright sunshine ahead. Surely they are hopeful prophets. We should be pleased to have such faith but spurn such profound blindness.

However, many of those who appear to entertain hope under the present crisis are not true to themselves, for no man or woman in a perfect state of mind can fail to realize a serious state of things without a radical change. Many who pretend to see glorious things awaiting the negro in America refer to the primitive state of the Celts and Gauls, whose condition, according to the report given of them by Julius Cesar, was that of the basest barbarism. They claim that those people survived Roman oppression and finally rose to honor and distinction.

But it must be remembered that Rome never completely subdued the Britons. They always resented Roman oppression. Thousands of Roman soldiers fell before their arrows. While the Romans held some tribes as slaves, others fought, burned, and scattered devastation broadcast. Finally Rome, tired of war with those barbarian tribes, withdrew and left them alone.

Again we must remember that this was not a conflict based upon race prejudice and caste, but Rome, crazy to extend her dominion over the world, commissioned Caesar to visit Briton and conquer the inhabitants.

But vast are the differences between the conditions of the Britons under Roman oppression and that of the negro under American slavery. The Britons as slaves, if you please to regard them as such, were a much more free and independent people than the American negro living under the pretense of American citizens.

What resistance did the negro as a race ever offer his owner during his two hundred years of bondage? What effort did we make to escape from an oppression that was enough to insult the devil himself? Even while the Union soldiers were losing their lifeblood upon the battle-field hundreds and thousands of negroes were so completely unmanned and were such absolute slaves and cowards, that they remained at home, served their mistresses with apparent indifference as to the result of the war.

Why was this? Was it because the negro was a born coward? No!

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The history of the negro in Africa where he has retained his manhood proves to the contrary.

A braver people never lived than the Ashantees, Dahomians, Mandingos, and Kroos of Africa to-day.

But this cowardice is due to slavery. It shows the effects of complete subjugation. It proves that men under severe treatment can be reduced to a state of beastly indifference as to their most vital interests. The fragments of slavery yet linger in the negro's bosom.

He dreads the white man even after thirty years of freedom. He trembles before his ex-master. Who is to blame for this great sacrifice of moral manhood? Can we blame the negro who, forced as he was into bondage, could but submit to whatever come upon him? As a slave he was not to blame; as a freeman he is much to blame, for there is yet a shameful indifference upon the part of the majority of negroes relative to their own interests and the interests of the race.

We cannot afford to pander to nonsense longer. Already this "smoothing over" policy has done us great harm. Let us stand or fall upon our merits or demerits, as the case may be.

We are confronted with a great evil. Our rights have been taken--not stolen. Our manhood, if we ever had any, has been crushed; our lives have been blown out with but little concern; our women have been seduced, outraged and brutalized at the pleasure of human demons; we have no redress before the courts of the land. What must be done to ameliorate the condition of 10,000,000 negroes in America surrounded with such conditions?

My fellow-men, we point you to Africa. Free Africa; rich Africa; negro Africa.

Come home where you can rest from near three hundred years of persecution. Come out from among your enemies and come among your friends.

Let every negro who is prepared come without delay. Your mother longs to take you in her bosom. She has gold, silver, diamonds, ivory, rubber, fruits, and everything you need. Come home!

Here you can have peace, prosperity, and fully enjoy the rights and privileges of citizens. Prejudice, caste, and race hate are unknown.

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CHAPTER V.
MISSIONARY POSSIBILITIES OF THE AFRICAN
METHODIST EPISCOPAL CHURCH
IN AFRICA.

Possibly there is no church in existence that has grander possibilities for a glorious success among the heathen of Africa than the A. M. E. Church.

First, our church is preferred because it is controlled by members of the race. The African, as all other races, has strong race proclivities. He believes in those en

Africa and African Methodism: Electronic Edition.