In Southern California, in a small Negro community named in his honor, lives Colonel Allen Allensworth, a retired Army Chaplain, and his devoted wife. This community is located in the San Joaquin Valley, between Bakersfield, which is at the south, and Fresno, which is at the north, on the Santa Fé Railroad. The town is a little more than six years old. The people at Allensworth belong chiefly to an aspiring, self-respecting, self-supporting middle class—a class largely moved by the independent spirit to break away from the servant class and try their hand at agriculture and trade on their own responsibility.

In all there are about 160 souls at Allensworth. They are all farmers, dairymen and traders. There is a hotel, with good accommodations and low rates; plenty of cool, refreshing water; several good country stores, a post-office, a railroad station with telephone and telegraph offices, and a large grain storage warehouse for the farmers of the district. The Negroes of this town are hard workers. They are prosperous, happy and contented.

The beautiful home in which the founder of the colony lives is simple in construction, but commodious. Its furnishings reflect the ideals and the character of the dwellers therein. Taste and culture are the outward expressions of the inner life; and they are exhibited here in a marked degree. For both Colonel Allensworth and his wife are educated and cultured people, who have seen life in its various phases and have agreed that the simple, pastoral life is the best for genuine happiness. That mysterious faculty called taste, which every man and woman must inevitably manifest at some time and in some degree, is quietly and beautifully developed and exhibited in this peaceful and altogether delightful home. While the rooms are not lavishly furnished with costly bric-a-brac, or expensive paintings, good taste is shown in every detail. There is a harmonious blending of colors in the pictures and paper on the walls and the furniture. There is nothing in the house which is not indispensable to the comfort of those living therein. On every hand are evidences of sound Christian training. The love of the Bible is manifested. Here is the home life of a man of true character. Colonel Allensworth is a clergyman, a man of God. He has walked among his fellows, a modest, humble, unobtrusive, God-fearing man, and with no aid save an indomitable courage he has made his way to the front at a time when getting to the front was most difficult.

Every true mother, whatever her station in life, wants her son to live a clean, pure, useful life, and is anxious that when he becomes a man he shall fill an honorable place among his people. So, though born in slavery, and handicapped by all the tricks of that awful institution, the humble mother of Allensworth prayed that God would keep her son clean; that He would give him courage, and will power and self-control to persevere in good works; that he should bear himself so as not to incur abuse or vilification, carrying his share of the responsibility of life with intelligence; and that in every relation of life, as brother, husband, and father, in spirit and letter he should endeavor to prove himself true and faithful.

After his emancipation, Allensworth gave himself to the support of every good cause, and his usefulness in the communities where he lived won for him that recognition which called him finally to the service of his country as a chaplain in the Army. His spirit was touched by the lowly condition of his people, with whom he was surrounded, and his pity, his indignation at the injustices they had to endure, his zeal for their relief and improvement, and his remarkable self-control under many provocations made him a valuable citizen. The simplicity of his life and the splendid toleration of his spirit made him a good counselor and a wise leader. It is difficult fully to estimate the variety and value of his services both in civil and military life, for he has not only been a forceful and eloquent preacher, an indefatigable and successful school-teacher, but a gallant soldier and now the founder of a flourishing Negro town.

Colonel Allensworth has lived through the most interesting and thrilling period of American history. When his prayers and the prayers of thousands of others were ascending to God that in some way He might bring deliverance to the slaves from their terrible thraldom, he did not dream, nor did anybody dream what the firing on Fort Sumter meant. Nobody thought that four long years of the bitterest war in history would follow; that fathers and brothers would be slain by the thousand; that families would be separated, divided forever; that business throughout the land would be paralyzed; that factories would be closed indefinitely; commerce blocked; traffic cut off; the best of friends made, in a brief period, the bitterest of enemies; but out of it all, after the fires had gone out, the smoke vanished from the distant horizon, freedom, blessed freedom was to come to the oppressed Negroes and the stern responsibilities of citizenship were to be imposed upon them. Having lived through this, he has striven to justify it all by his upright living and his manly attitude on all important public questions.

Colonel Allensworth was born in Kentucky. He was not born with a silver spoon in his mouth, though he has lived to use many. He was born in slavery, and those familiar with the history of that institution, know what that means. He was determined, even in his youth, to make his way in life and by his indomitable courage he has succeeded. He realized after the Civil War that to live in the United States is a fine thing after all. In his youth the world was to him, as it is to most boys, a great big, mysterious place, which he could not and did not try to comprehend. The grandeur of the innumerable stars studding the heavens, the everlasting puzzle of the great, silent, towering mountain peaks, the soft, curling mists reflecting the effulgent rays of the morning sun, that roll gently and quietly over the hill-tops from the deep luxuriant valleys, the flowers of the fields in their beauty, the sparkling dewdrops in their mellow splendor, were all objects of wonder and admiration to him, and as he grew older and saw and felt and experienced life's strange variabilities, the world became more mysterious to him. He looked out upon life, as a great ocean and in a vague way imagined great ships sailing by in their calm, steady, majestic movements; their curious air of travel; their great white spreading sails; their complicated riggings and towering masts, creating the feeling that they must have come from some distant land, where strange people live, and were bound for unknown shores. The vision charmed and fascinated him. He wanted to see the world. He wanted to understand more of life and its purposes. Like the curious boy at the circus, he longed to see it all, and hence his striving, even to this day. Although he has played an important part in the tragedy of color and the drama of prejudice in this country, his activities have not ceased. He is still doing a large share in solving a problem of which he is a conspicuous part. How well he has done and is doing his part succeeding chapters of this book will tell.

Colonel Allensworth has long since learned that the individual man cannot see all of life—this is only done by the larger groups and they must be scattered over the world. Each life is circumscribed or travels in a circle. Some men live to cultivate the soil that others may engage in other equally useful pursuits; some stand at the spindles and the looms that others may be clothed; some hammer the rough metals into useful tools and implements that others may have no excuse to shirk labor; some fashion wood into needed forms that others may enjoy comfort; some cook and wash and build, while others enjoy the pleasures of travel or repose in luxury. Only a few may travel and study and impart wisdom. Some lives are dull and grey and uneventful, others, impelled by a strong wandering instinct, are filled with the knowledge gained by travel, and reflect an inspiring light to those with whom they come in contact. And so it is with Colonel Allensworth. Considering the space of time over which he has passed, considering his early handicaps of slavery, ignorance, superstition, enforced degradation; considering the uncertain outlook of his youth, and the heroic manner in which he has overcome some of his handicaps such as hereditary weaknesses, ignorance and superstition, and the remarkable progress he has made in the world, we think it worth while, for the benefit of the future generations of his race, to chronicle Colonel Allensworth's achievements; for this race still requires the stimulus of success if it would hold its courage.

Colonel Allensworth has lived long enough to appreciate the wonders of civilization. He also appreciates the glory of nature, her varied forms, colors and voices. His personality has won for him an enviable, place in whatever society his life has led him. He has witnessed some of the most marvelous strides made by the human race in civilization. He has seen the steam engine developed and perfected in his day from a crude thing, to the most useful, indispensable and faithful servant of man. He has seen it become the mainspring of civilization, bringing valuable material from the depths of the mines; turning the dynamo that lights our cities, and propelling our street cars; turning the powerful propeller which sends the monster steamship through the waters, as well as furnishing the power to make the most delicate parts of a watch. He has seen it annihilate distance and make all men of this globe commercially brothers. And, too, he has witnessed the successful experiment of the flying machine, wireless telegraphy, moving pictures, color photography, the X-ray, talking machine, the steam-plough throwing sixteen furrows at one time; the fifty-story office building constructed of cement, steel and stone; the marvelous suspension bridge, six thousand five hundred thirty-seven feet long, with a single span of one thousand five hundred ninety-five feet; the powerful search-light that blazes the way for the enormous steel gunboat; the automobile or horseless carriage, and smokeless powder. He has seen what were waste materials converted into valuable articles of utility.

Allen, the son of Phyllis and Levi Allensworth, was born in Louisville, Kentucky, April 7, 1842. His mother was the slave of Mrs. A. P. Starbird of Louisville, and as soon as Allen was old enough to be of any service, he was given to Mrs. Starbird's son, Thomas, to be his little “nigger,” as was the prevailing custom among such people at that time. Thus he began his battle of life.

We are too far removed in time from the appalling scenes of horror to appreciate now the awful system under which Allen spent the first years of his life. It would be very difficult for the men and women born since the days of American slavery fully to realize the dark and bewildering reign of terror which characterized the period in which he came into the world.

The spectacle of millions of human beings doomed, apparently forever, to incessant and unrequited toil, absolutely shut out from the protection of the law of the land, imprisoned in the grossest ignorance and superstition brutalized, driven by the cruel lash, branded with hot iron and degraded by inhuman practices, is a terrible and fearful picture to contemplate. So it will be seen that Allen Allensworth was born at the bottom of the pit of the most revolting system of degradation that can be conceived.

His mother was a kind-hearted, gentle-spirited woman, sympathizing with her son's trials and handicaps from the start. She was anxious to have him form habits of strict integrity, honor and usefulness. She, though a slave, was intelligent enough to appreciate the responsibilities of life. She was conscientious in the discharge of her duties, a consistent Christian, enduring hardships and sorrow with calmness. She had her ideals. They were given her by that invisible Spirit who inspires each willing soul with kindness, and an abhorrence of cruelty, unkindness, injustice and wrong. Her simplicity and sincerity of character won for her the confidence of her owners and all who knew her.

Instinctively his mother knew the advantages of education, so she said to Allen one day, “My son, Miss Bett is sending ‘Little Marse’ Tommy to school to get a learning; now, my son, what is good for ‘Little Marse’ Tommy is good for you. Your mother can't send you to no school, where you can learn to read and write and figure, so you must ask your ‘Marse’ Tom to play school with you every day when he comes home; then you can learn to read and write like him.” She told him that his “Marse” Tom would be a great man some day and have a big store like his father. Tom's father was a member of the large wholesale drug company of Wilson, Starbird & Smith in Louisville. Deep down in her heart she felt that in some way God would redeem her son from the thraldom of slavery; that, somehow, he would, if even partly educated, win his freedom. She told him that she had named him after the great preacher of the African Methodist Episcopal Church, Bishop Allen, and that she wanted him to grow up to be a great and good man like the bishop. In substance she said, “To be a great and good man, and a useful man to others, you must know how to read the Bible and fit yourself to live up to its teachings. No man can be truly great and good who does not believe in the good Book and follow its teachings. The only way to learn is to play schoolboy with your ‘Marse’ Tom and have him learn you. Now don't let on to him that I told you to ask him to play school, for if you do, he won't teach you. Now may God help you, my son, may God help you.” With this suggestion, she allowed her son to exercise his own diplomacy in working out this problem.

She knew that it was a crime before the laws of man (the white man of the South) for a Negro to learn to read. The white man had said that the black man could not learn to read or write, that he was too thick-headed, and he made it a crime for any one to attempt the experiment on the black man. This dear soul felt keenly the vital power involved in the words “read” and “write,” and while she was not able to teach her boy herself, she could show him the way. It is surprising to what extent the slaves regarded the ability of one to read and write as a great mystery. They everywhere whispered the words, “read and write.”

THIS playing school was Allen's first battle in diplomacy. Did he win? The remarkable story of his achievements in later years will serve as the answer to this question. He thought much over what his mother had said to him. His ambition was aroused; from that moment. He, too, realized the value of the mystery involved in the arts of reading and writing, and he was determined to work out his mother's shrewd scheme for acquiring an education. He made up his mind to learn; he wanted to be a man, and his spirit was thoroughly aroused. He wanted to please his mother, but he wanted, too, to satisfy an inward longing, a longing to realize the potentiality of the mystery of letters. He began to feel that there was bound up in his spiritual being a dynamic force capable of the highest development and he was determined to set to work to realize it in a manner that would justify his risk and meet his dear, devoted mother's expectations. She had planted the seed that was destined to grow into a great tree of inspirational power. His mother was alone in the struggle in his behalf. She had been robbed of her long cherished hope for liberty by the death of her husband, who, during his active life, was a splendid examplar of the most commendable industry, thrift and frugality. For it was during Allen's infancy that his father had the courage to go to his master and make known his desire to gain his freedom. His master permitted him to hire his time and thus pay the price of his liberty. He planned to purchase his own freedom first and then his wife's and then his children's. His wife prayed earnestly that God would spare him to accomplish this great task. He hired his time at the rate of twenty-five dollars per month, with the understanding that he should pay twelve hundred dollars for his complete freedom. For his “free papers” he was to make three payments of four hundred dollars each, making a total of twelve hundred dollars. This was in addition to the twenty-five dollars per month. The price of his freedom was one item, the hire of his time another. With this understanding he started out for “Freetown.”

He engaged in the transportation business between Louisville and a place called Portland. He was able to secure in some way two mules, a dray and a cart, and with this outfit he made his monthly payments and turned over to his wife the extra amounts earned in his business toward the three installments of four hundred dollars. She was his banker, and a safe, reliable one at that; for she was as much interested in his success as he could be; her liberty as well as his own was at stake. On making his second payment, he was given a note to carry to a Mr. Collins, who, on reading it, said: “Levi, you belong to me.” It is not difficult to imagine how his heart sank within him; how he almost broke into tears as he listened to the words freighted with so much meaning. He hastened to inform his new owner that he had just made a second payment on his own purchase on the promise of his master that he should be free; but Collins informed him that his master had borrowed eight hundred dollars on him and that he had failed to meet the note when due, and that he was turned over to him in payment of the note. Levi told his story again to Collins and the latter finally agreed to allow him to work out the debt, and thus obtain his freedom on practically the same terms as before, but with the difference that instead of a balance of four hundred dollars, he must pay eight hundred dollars. This was hard indeed, and even slave owners themselves were moved by this system of injustice meted out to the humble slave in this case. Mr. Starbird, his wife's master, said that it was a shame for Levi to be treated in this manner and volunteered to act as his agent, to see that he was dealt with squarely. Well, Levi started out the second time to purchase his freedom; but the shock of disappointment and the extra hard work brought on physical prostration; after a brief illness, all worn out, sad and heart-broken, he died. His new owner claimed his teams for the remaining debt.

This was Allen's first and greatest early loss. His mother experienced a depression of spirit that finally led to melancholy abstractions, interpreted by her mistress as “impertinence,” and so Miss Bett informed Mr. Starbird that she must be sold. She was given the privilege of selecting her own master in consideration of her former faithfulness. This was one of the advantages enjoyed only by the devoted and true. The slave was a keen observer of human nature; he had his likes and dislikes. He appreciated kindness in his master and was greatly influenced in his own actions by that kindness.

So the mother of Allen started out to sell herself, and she wanted to sell herself to some one who would be kind to her and would give her a chance in life. Allen's mother was one of the first-class cooks of the day. Her skill as a pastry cook was known by all the residents of the square, so she had no trouble in finding a purchaser. The first one to whom she applied was the wife of Attorney Nat Wolfe, three doors south of the Starbird home. As soon as he learned she was for sale the purchase was made. This change took Allen to the Wolfe home, where he became a playmate of Mr. Wolfe's two sons, Willie and Nat, and alternated between the home of his owner and that of his mother. It is interesting to note that the Starbird boy and Wolfe boys, with Allen, constituted the fighting force of the square, where many battles were pitched. In one of these, Allen was struck with a stone over his left eye, which left an indentation for life.

When Allen entered the U. S. Navy in 1863, Willie and Nat Wolfe entered the U. S. Army, and remained until the close of the Rebellion. They subsequently entered the regular army with commissions as second lieutenants. When Allen entered in 1886 he was surprised to find the sons of his mother's former owner in the service and he their superior in rank. Thus time brings the little slave boy to the front as the superior officer of the boys he played with and called “Marse Willie” and “Marse Nat.”

It was about this time that Miss Bett discovered that “Little Marse” Tommy, her son, and Allen were quite chummy. Tommy was working out in an admirable manner the scheme of Allen's mother for his education and equipment for the battle of life. Tommy had turned the nursery room into a school room. Little Tommy, feeling himself the master and imitating his teacher, was found by Miss Bett giving his orders. He was told after this discovery that he was doing wrong, that he must not continue the practice; but boy-like, he persisted in doing the very thing he was forbidden to do. Allen was told that he must not play school with Tommy, but he had gotten the habit, and the spirit had entered his soul and brain, and so he continued to play school and encouraged Tommy in the sport. Miss Bett finding the nursery school still doing business at the same old stand, after repeated warnings, finally decided to break it up for good. Her method was that of elimination. She told Mr. Starbird and he forthwith found another home for Allen. Mr. Starbird learned that Mr. Talbot, a retail merchant, wanted a little chap to do odd jobs around his house for his mother; a bargain was made, and Allen was turned over to Talbot. Reuben, the carriage driver, escorted him to his new home. Here it was that Allen tasted for the first time what was to him real happiness. Mrs. Talbot was a Quaker woman, gentle of spirit, soft in speech, and sympathetic of heart. She treated him like a mother. She arranged a neat little bed for him in her own room, and every night before retiring, she required him to say:

AFTER leaving his sick, heart-burdened mother, Allen started for the steamer, accompanied by uncle Reuben. As they were about to pass a book store, Allen asked uncle Reuben to allow him to stop for the purpose of purchasing a book. He had already bought a comb, complying with his mother's instructions, and now he must buy a book, and he wanted the most useful book he could get. In this store young Allen purchased a copy of Webster's Spelling Book, the most famous of all books among the slaves in that day. It is traditional that the blue-back speller was the fountain of all learning to the aspiring slaves, and somehow, the booksellers knew this. Whenever a slave made application for a book, the bookdealers invariably recommended “Webster's Spelling Book.” After the Bible, no book was so popular or more highly prized among the slaves as this little volume; it opened wide the magic door to learning; it set aflame the passion for knowledge; it pointed the way to freedom. For as humble as were the slaves' condition, they were conscious of the fact that ignorance was their chief handicap. Their benighted condition made it easy to keep them in subjection. From this blue-back spelling book these simple-hearted people learned their first lessons in the mysterious arts of reading and spelling. This book is alluded to by nearly every Negro who has left a record of his struggles in slavery. Immediately after he won his freedom, he told of the help given him by this book. All who have come up from slavery have some knowledge of the wonderful influence this book exerted upon the lives of the race during the ante-bellum period. It was diligently studied by the flame of the pine knot at night and secretly by day.

As Allen and uncle Reuben walked along the streets in Louisville that day, the boy's heart beat with delight as he contemplated the treasure which he carried in his hand, which he hoped quickly to transfer to his head. He could not refrain from examining his precious little blue-back book; and when he studied the picture which was the frontispiece, uncle Reuben pointed out that the woman leading the little child by the hand in the picture was Allen's mother and the child was Allen himself; and the building to which the mother is pointing is the temple of knowledge and the higher building with the round dome is the temple of fame. Uncle Reuben told Allen that if he could make his way into the temple of knowledge, later he would be able to win his way into the temple of fame,—that by getting knowledge he would become a famous man. Uncle Reuben knew instinctively that knowledge is the greatest power in the world, and that the man who possessed it, and used it in the wisest and best way would become a famous man. He told Allen that his mother wanted him to become a famous man, and that he must get all the knowledge in his head possible. “Yo' mah wants you to 'come famous, Allen, and you kin do it. Don't let nuffin' git in yo' way. De Devil will try to keep you frum de temple of larnin'; but don't you neber let him do it.” This was the advice given the boy by the old man who was leading him to the river where he was to board the steamer “Rainbow” to go far away from his mother, his boy friends and all who were near and dear to him. He would soon find himself among strangers.

On arrival at the steamer, uncle Reuben and Allen found Mr. John J. Smith, Mr. Starbird's partner in the wholesale drug business, in waiting. Mr. Smith was not like many of the other slaveholders, mean and unsympathetic; he took a personal interest in Allen and wanted to see him well cared for on the boat. The “Rainbow” was a typical river steamer. In those days it was considered a fine thing in the Southern States to travel on a river steamer. Railroads were not much in use, and the most convenient mode of travel was by the steamers which plowed the muddy streams. White men who enjoyed the older kinds of sport, took frequent trips on these steamers with a view to finding their match in games of chance; and, too, much of their slave-trading was carried on in the saloons and cabins of these river boats. High life among those slaveholders who delighted in riotous dissipation reached its limit here; and according to the temper of the passengers while the good time was going on, the cabin boys or waiters would reap various rewards for their diligence and promptness in supplying their wants. Allen was quick to see his personal advantage in any given situation; and observing the alertness and celerity of these neatly attired black men, their cheerful faces and happy modes, he at once decided that a cabin boy's position was good enough for him.

Mr. John Smith was on his way to Henderson, Kentucky, where he was going to visit his brother, Pat Smith. He took Allen in charge, and when on board of the boat, he turned him over to Uncle Dabney, the colored steward, for safe-keeping. In the days of slavery, it was the habit of people always to speak of older colored folks as “uncle” and “aunt.” The steward on the “Rainbow” was an old colored man who had spent nearly all his days on the river. He was well known and he was spoken of as “uncle” Dabney by young and old among both whites and slaves. He was a man of some distinction,—he occupied a unique place in the life of the river people. Uncle Dabney was a member of the same church in Louisville with which Allen's mother was connected, and he knew the boy. He was very kind to the boy. He was very generous in the supply of food which he gave him and this endeared him to Allen. He told the boy that he wanted him to enjoy the trip down the river; that he must keep his eyes open and take in all the beautiful sights along the slowly shifting scenes of the river banks. Allen was too young to comprehend any unusual change in his life; he did not appreciate the gravity of the situation. While going down the river was a painful ordeal to older slaves, Allen rather enjoyed the experience. One would have thought, to see the beaming smile on his face, that he was the son of some wealthy slaveholder on an outing for pleasure or for his health.

On the bosom of this stream, on these slow-going boats, some of the most horrible tragedies of the slavery period were enacted. Not alone among the humble slaves, but the passions of white men, engaged in gambling, sometimes broke loose and they killed each other. Men, drunk with wine, often fought, stabbed, and shot each other over trifling disputes. Young Allen did not know that while he was riding in the cabin, surrounded on every hand by bright, ornamented fittings and brilliant lights, on the lower deck of the steamer were members of his race bound together in chains; dejected, spiritless, on their way to a more terrible fate. These creatures were lying about on the cold, damp deck of the boat, or they slept on hard boxes or barrels, if they slept at all. These poor men and women sang songs in spite of their hard lot; but these songs were not the acclaims of joy and gladness; they were not the sweet melodies of cheer and hope; they were not the strains of light-hearted, care-free, intelligent human beings; but rather the pathetic soul-cries, the sorrow-songs, the weird sobs of grief, the tremulous wails, the moans and groans of heart-bleeding, simple-minded, long-suffering black folks. They were a people of deep religious fervor and their ardent prayers in the form of songs constituted their appeals to the Almighty God for deliverance from bondage.

Uncle Dabney devoted as much of his time and attention to Allen as he could afford. And Allen enjoyed immensely the experiences of the hour. Seeing that the cabin boys were dressed in neat, white aprons and jackets; that these young men were bright, sharp, intelligent fellows, Allen thought at once that he would like to be in their class. The grace and efficiency of these waiters caught his fancy. For the moment they represented his ideal. These young slave men had been very carefully selected, not only on account of their peculiar fitness and capacity, but for their adeptness, agility, manners and personal appearance. These waiters watched eagerly every movement of the guests while at their tables, they anticipated and supplied their wants with the utmost promptness; they moved about lightly in the dining room, without making any noise, and carried out orders quickly. Contrasted with those slaves chained on the deck of the boat, these cabin boys occupied an exalted station, they constituted a sort of aristocracy,—they lived in heaven, while the others were in hell. These cabin boys had the best of food, for they ate what the fastidious and squeamish passengers left on their plates; and, about some things, they were quite as dainty as the people they served. But the poor unfortunates chained on the deck of the boat ate only corn meal mush served to them as it was served to hogs and cattle. The distance between the sprightly cabin boys, with their hair well combed, wearing clean, white shirts and jackets, and having their shoes highly polished, and the sorrowful, hunger-smitten creatures on the dirty deck below was great indeed. The squalor, wretchedness, privation and anguish suggested by the latter's condition was unknown and unnoticed by the more favored class. This favored class appealed to Allen, but he was horrified by the condition of the other. In these cabin boys he saw significant results of the contact with educated people; he saw a certain degree of culture, intelligence and refinement in them that attracted him. He saw also a certain rivalry in higher things among these cabin boys, which he knew was but hopeless expectation in the degraded group on the lower deck. There was something extremely fascinating in the work of the waiters, as they turned this way and that, serving the ladies and gentlemen seated around the tables in the cabin. Allen thought to himself that it must be a high privilege to serve one's master in this fashion; the intimate association, the pleasant smile, as a token of appreciation of prompt service, these were the rewards which a slave might claim with gratification and satisfaction. And so Allen wanted to be a cabin boy. To travel on steamboats and wait on tables became his strongest desire. He made known his wish to uncle Dabney. The old man indulged his whim, and though he had not previously done this particular kind of waiting, he was assigned a table at once, and took his first lessons in steamboat service as a cabin boy.

In due time Allen reached the landing on the river where he must leave the boat and go to the Pat Smith farm, three miles in the country. He found an old, dilapidated, two-wheeled cart awaiting him. This cart was drawn by a lanky old mule whose heritage was aversion to any sort of quick bodily motion, except when called to the stable for his feed. A country carriage was in waiting for Mr. Smith. They were soon on their way to the plantation.

The approach to the famous Pat Smith farmhouse was through a large, luxuriant grove of majestic oaks, sycamores and cottonwood trees. This scene thus presented to his young and expanding vision was simply enchanting to Allen. To see the nimble squirrels hopping from limb to limb in the trees, exhibiting the utmost freedom, and the soft-cooing turtle-doves, with their plaintive sounds, gave him strange delight. There were conflicting emotions in his young heart. The cooing of the doves had a depressing effect on his spirit, reminding him of the sick mother he had left behind him in the big city of Louisville. As he came nearer the farmhouse he observed a neat, extensive, one-story house, with spacious yard and a fence around it. In the yard he saw luxuriant shrubbery, a great variety of fragrant flowers, and other evidences of taste and care. The very air was ladened with the perfume of flowers.

Young Allensworth became an object of interest at once. He was a “likely” boy and aunt Betty, the cook, aunt Phyllis, the house-woman, and Eddie, the orphan white boy, all became intensely interested in the new-comer. Allen and Eddie soon became good friends,—chums and daily companions. Aunt Phyllis showed him tender sympathy and remarked to aunt Betty that it was a pity “ter tek' dat po' chile fum his sick mamma, and brung him on dis place whah he won't meet nobody but a pas'le o' low-down, good-for-nuttin' strangers.” This remark attached the boy to aunt Phyllis and he loved her ever afterward. He loved her, too, because she had the same name as his mother. Aunt Phyllis was a big-hearted old soul, and she looked with commiseration on all who suffered affliction or distress.

Mr. and Mrs. Pat Smith scrutinized Allen very closely. He was given his preliminary instructions in house manners. He was told that he must always speak of Mr. Pat Smith as Marse Pat, and Mrs. Smith as Miss Hebe. At first, they impressed the boy with the idea that they were a very gentle people. He was given his choice of a corner in one of a number of rooms where he was to sleep on the floor at night. His liberal supply of bedding consisted of one quilt. He wisely selected a corner in the dining room, near the “safe” containing the food, where he could at least smell the food, if he could not help himself to it when hungry. In selecting his sleeping quarters, Allen, though yet a mere lad showed a shrewdness which has not ceased even to this day to be one of his chief characteristics. If left to choose a place in any sphere, he will select now, as he did then, the very best place available. In the dining room he was not only near the food, but he was also near his master's room where he could hear his call at any hour of the night. It was his duty to rise at four o'clock in the morning, blow a horn which was furnished him, and arouse the other slaves of the plantation. He was taught to blow his horn in slavery and he has been blowing it ever since. On hearing the horn blow at four o'clock in the morning, all the slaves arose and started about their work in the fields. After blowing the horn, it was his next duty to sweep the dining room floor, arrange the table for the morning meal, and see that everything was in order for the day. He was allowed a plain candle box in which to keep his little belongings, which consisted of a limited supply of clothing and a few trinkets. The comb which he purchased with a part of the money his mother gave him was a pretty article. Miss Hebe decided that it was too good for Allen. She took it from him and give it to the white orphan boy, Eddie, and gave Allen an old-fashioned wool-card to “card” his head instead of combing it. This made him feel sad for a time, but he had the good sense not to complain. He knew that silence in such case was a virtue.

After a few days on the Pat Smith farm Allen had adjusted himself to his surroundings, and become familiar with the situation. The orchard with its fruit trees, the garden with its great variety of vegetables, the running grape-vines heavy with grapes, the sweet flowers, the hennery with its beautiful young chickens, the chicken coops and houses, the stables and farm buildings,—all interested him, and he took a sort of proprietary pride in them all. He was a loyal worker; he was concerned about everything on the farm. Surveying the farm, the agricultural implements, the cattle and barns, he regarded these as means by which he should make himself useful. With wise discernment, he made up his mind to do his full duty; to be truthful, obedient, and industrious, and win the confidence of his master. Allen gave himself to work.

It may appear strange to many readers, but it is nevertheless true, that a large proportion of the slaves, on account of long years of cruel oppression, acquired a characteristic indifference and apathy to their unfortunate lot; the habits of servitude became fixed upon them; they really loved those who hated and flogged them; they longed to kiss the hand of the tyrants who degraded them; they found pleasure in their very debasement. The hard crust and callous of servility, caused by generations of stunt and serfdom, could not produce ambitiously sensitive souls, except in rare instances. And this is not to be wondered at; both the mental and physical deformity of the mass of the race was well-nigh complete, and if not complete, glaringly apparent; especially was this so in the old folks who lacked the inspiration of hope and of quenchless ambition and perseverance. These noble qualities of character were slow of evolution, even after freedom came. Too often the younger people, too, at the time of their emancipation were lacking in ambition. In slavery their labors brought no personal rewards. Stimulation to diligence and industry, came only from a consciousness that if they did their best, they would avert whippings, and save their backs from scars and bruises.

In some remote sense, all slaves at intervals hoped for freedom; but it was the exceptional slave who saw the vision; who knew that wrong could not always last; that justice and humanity would not forever be set aside. These were the slaves who chafed under subjection,—the yoke kept their necks perpetually sore and bleeding. The inexorable ban of Southern slaveholding ethics gave the slaves no hope. The gregarious blacks knew no way out; they were weary of their chains; but no potency of their wills could resist the subtle encroachments of the life-sapping cables which bound them so tightly together in one common destiny.

The disposition on the part of the mass of these people to make the best of their trying situation led many masters to declare that the Negro was really happy in slavery; that it was his natural condition; because he sometimes danced and sang, these slaveholders declared that slavery was the Negro's happiest state.

Allen was not moved by any consideration of selfishness or even acquiescence in the system of slavery. He was too young to think about the hardships or sufferings of others. One thing, aside from the faithful performance of his duties, engrossed his attention, and that was the blue-back speller. It was not long before Miss Hebe discovered his inclination to study his book. When she found that he had this book, she ordered him to stop reading it, and never to be caught with it in his hands again. But little Eddie was interested also, and the two boys formed an alliance to comfort each other. They whipped Eddie for not getting his lessons and they punished Allen for studying. The two boys were in misery and they enjoyed each other's company. Allen proposed to Eddie that he would help him in his studies, if he in turn would keep his tongue about it and would help him. They needed each other's assistance. They got together on the proposition and were making rapid progress. These two boys found a secret place where, at odd hours, they could come together and study. While Miss Hebe disapproved of Allen's learning to read, she would often speak of him with pride as a smart boy; and this had the effect of encouraging him. She often said that if Allen had the proper training he would become an intelligent man. She often said, too, that Eddie was a stupid fellow and that it was quite a task to keep him interested in his books.

Recalling the hardships which came to him on account of his ambition to learn to read and study, Col. Allensworth says:

“Upon the discovery of my having an ambition to read and write, Marse Pat and Miss Hebe,—as I had been instructed to call these people,—commenced a series of persecutions to throttle every ambition, stifle every desire, and choke every aspiration that was within me to carry out the instructions of my mother to prepare myself to be a good and useful man. Many things were charged against me of which I was innocent. On one occasion, when the rats carried off the new cucumbers that had been placed on ice in the old underground icehouse, Eddie and I were charged with stealing these cucumbers. We pleaded our innocence. Miss Hebe, in order to be certain,—so that the whipping she gave would be the more severe,—decided to prove to us and to herself that we had eaten the cucumbers; therefore she gave each of us an emetic, a dose of ipecac. She stood each of us in a separate corner in her sitting room, in our shirt tails, so that our limbs would be bare and ready to receive what she intended to give us. She had two cow-hides, one painted blue, called the ‘Bluebird,’ and one painted red, called the ‘Redbird.’ She used the ‘Bluebird’ on Eddie and the ‘Redbird’ on me. She sat with those two instruments of torture on her sewing table, waiting for us to surrender, as she thought we would do, the cucumbers we had eaten. As she was a very religious Presbyterian, she sat there humming hymns, waiting patiently for the operation of the emetic. After awhile the contents of Eddie's stomach were surrendered. She inspected the contents of his stomach as emptied into a pail, and found no cucumbers there. This sight assisted the emetic she gave me to do its work, and soon I surrendered what I had in my stomach, and there were no cucumbers. To reward us for the pangs of this ordeal, she gave each of us a cold biscuit. This, to us, was a very great treat. It was seldom that we received any luxuries. I was forced to scheme for a few luxuries when they had company. I owned a tin cup and tin plate. These I kept to gather the scraps of biscuit, etc., left by the guests on the plates. In waiting on the table I always moved in time to pass the biscuits to the guests so one would be taken and scraps left. I would not wait for their coffee cup to be emptied, but would be active and pick it up and pass it to be refilled. In this way considerable coffee was left. This I would pour into my tin cup as soon as the guests and Miss Hebe left the table for the parlor, and hide it somewhere in the dining room. Miss Hebe frequently on her return would hunt for them when she saw the scraps were gone, take them away from me and give them to Eddie. This favoritism for Eddie did not change our friendly relation. We had a common misery between us that was sufficiently strong to continue our friendship.

“One of the most torturing whippings I ever received was from Pat Smith and his brother Bob, when I was charged with purloining a bank note. I had been sent to town on an errand, and returning with this bank bill, gave it to Miss Hebe while she was reading. She placed it between the leaves of the book she was reading, continued to read and turn the leaves. Closing the book and laying it aside, she forgot what became of the bank note, and charged me with stealing it. I was denuded, tied, bucked and gagged, and for three hours I was whipped unmercifully. This castigation was to force me to confess to the purloining of the bank note. The torture was so great and the pain so intense that I finally confessed that I took the money, thinking that they would cease beating me; but then I could not tell what I did with it. I told all sorts of stories when they demanded to know what I did with it and none of them was true. Yet they continued to ply the leather lash to my already lacerated body. I could not cry out; I could only moan and groan. They finally released me. Two days afterwards Miss Hebe took up the book to continue the story and found the bill. I was simply informed that they had found the bill where she had placed it, but, of course, nothing was done as a redress for the horrible treatment I had received, nor to relieve my injured feeling.”

In this way thousands of these poor people in the South were falsely charged and forced to make confessions, thinking that the confessions would lessen the persecutions and cruel treatment; not knowing at the time that other things follow a confession, which, unless they were corroborated, would make the confession worse for them. It is so today in the South in the confessions that are forced out of these folks when they are charged with assaults and other misdemeanors.

It will be seen that this great evil of punishing innocent and blameless black men, and forcing them to confess to crimes which they did not commit, had its birth in slavery. Since the emancipation of the Negro, it has been the common practice in the South to lynch innocent black men upon the accusation of excited white women. Thousands of these defenseless men have been brutally tortured by the mob. But the effect upon the civilization of the South has been degrading and destructive of higher ideals of citizenship in the younger generation. The brutalization of the lynchers has extended to the whole country, deadened the finer feelings, aroused the demons of passion, and presented our Western civilization in a reproachful light before the world. It is awful, unspeakably and indescribably dreadful, to witness a human being, however humble, ignorant and depraved, chained to a stake, his body riddled with bullets, then covered with oil and slowly burned to death, while the heartless mob stabs his burning body with hot irons and sticks red hot torches into his eyes. The damning effect of such scenes must reach not only all who participate in these barbarities, but as well to those who read the horrible details.

THE foregoing chapters introduce to the reader the hero of this book, but the story of his life depends, for its interest to the reading public, upon the fact that he was born a slave, and that he lived and had a part in the nation's great struggle with the institution of slavery. In order to give his life a proper setting, that the true plot of the story may be understood by the reader, it is necessary to devote a few chapters, at this point, to a description of the awful institution of slavery, and its inherent wickedness, and to the deep agitation for its abolition that preceded the Civil War in which Allen Allensworth had a part.

God is the All-Wise Father of all men. For “He hath made of one blood all nations of men to dwell on ALL the face of the earth.” Mankind is one great brotherhood, differing slightly in physical form, features, color of skin and habits, but essentially the same in having like feelings, affections, duties, responsibilities, aspirations and desires. All alike are striving to improve their condition according to the light which is in their hearts and minds; and the civilization of mankind is advanced in proportion as men recognize the Fatherhood of God and the brotherhood of man. The moral law teaches not only the love of friends, family and race; but it commands each one to love all men of whatever race, or color, or clime. It is not so easy to obey the law which says, “All things whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them.” It is the duty, however, of each man in civilized society to respect the rights and feelings of others; and each man should demand justice and fair play. But it must be remembered that rights and duties balance each other in the moral law, and justice demands that a man perform faithfully his duties toward society before urging the full protection of this law. Love and proper regard for a man's neighbor require that he shall do nothing to handicap his neighbor, nothing to endanger his neighbor's life, restrict his liberty, insult or offend his person, irritate his feelings, or disturb or destroy his property. In truth there is but one sort of equality among men, the equality of natural rights. Men are unequal in size, in physical strength, in wealth and material possessions, in intelligence, in mental powers, and in many other respects; but however unequal men may be in these respects, these differences do not entitle one man or one class of men to put restrictions upon the intelligence, ownership of property, or physical powers or other natural rights of other men. Because one man is ignorant, the intelligent neighbor is not warranted and has no right to take advantage of him. Because one man is poor and weak and needy, his wealthy neighbor has no right to defraud him or impose upon him. The law of mutual kindness, if universally adopted, would bring about peace among men. The principle of pure morality requires that, instead of the enlightened slighting the ignorant, the wealthy defrauding the poor, the strong oppressing the weak, those with superior gifts and fortunes should give aid and comfort to those less fortunate.

The white boy learns his lessons of duty, responsibility, honor, integrity, and heroism, as well as kindliness, gentleness, forbearance, tolerance, benevolence and self-sacrifice, from the books he reads and studies while attending school; and thus he receives his first incentives to culture, refinement, faithfulness to obligation, and high ideals, from the splendid examples pictured in these books. These examples represent the more exalted and generous lives of his forefathers. The men who write these books are among the greatest benefactors of their race. They are expected to employ the most elegant language, the richest vocabulary, the finest turning of delicate phrase, imagery, fancy, and metaphor, in depicting the illustrious careers of their lofty-minded ancestors. These white men devote years of their lives to hard study in their efforts to produce these inspirational books and these books breathe forth the tenderest appreciation of the best men and women of his race. The chief object of such books is to furnish the youth worthy models for emulation.

An old Georgia Negro of the illiterate type was fortunate enough on one occasion to hear an eloquent lecture by an eminent Northern orator. This orator took for his subject, “The Transcendent Glory and Grandeur of the White Man's Achievements,” and he gave a running sketch of the marvelous inventions and discoveries of the white man during the past fifty years. The old Negro was asked what he thought of the brilliant address. He scratched his head and said, dubiously, “Well he sho' did recommen' hisself high!” It is by this process of recommending himself “high” that the white boy gets his stimulus from his forbears.

It is well, perhaps, that the Negro should begin to recommend himself as a worthy model to the coming generations of his race, that the coming generations may realize that virtue and honor are not the sole possession of any one race.

It is fitting, fifty years after the abolition of chattel slavery in the United States, that a brief review of that odious system be given to the world, together with the record of the long life of useful and honorable achievement of one who came through that trying ordeal. Lives such as his serve as a justification of the faith of those who believed in, and suffered for, the cause of emancipation, and they are also irrefutable evidence that those who advocated the rights of one class to enslave and to keep under subjection another class were entirely wrong.

It is not the purpose of this book, however, to give a complete history of chattel slavery in the United States. That has already been well done by other able writers in the past. And, too, that task would involve arduous labors which would hardly be rewarded by the serious consideration of the feverish, on-rushing, wealth-seeking people of our day. So wild and inordinate is the rush for wealth in this century that men find little time for reading about the past; they rarely look back over the past and consider the depth from which our country has arisen. Realizing this, it is thought that a great service can be rendered the reading public by giving briefly the narrative of one whose rise from slavery has signalized the capabilities and the possibilities of a class once almost wholly discredited and completely denied the common advantages of education, ownership of property and the felicity of the domestic fire side. This man, by indefatigable industry, indomitable will-power and energy, discriminate reading, profound meditation on the vital issues of life, and perseverance in the studies of sociology and history, as well as important problems of the human race in many lands, although reared in the hard school of adversity, has become a leader of thought, and an admirable example and guide, for the coming generations of his race in America.

The nefarious traffic in human beings was first begun on the North American continent when a Dutch Man-of-War in 1619 brought a number of Negroes to Jamestown, Virginia, and the chief officer of the vessel, Captain Miles Kendall, tendered these Negroes to the people of the Colony in exchange for food to relieve the hunger of his starving white sailors.

With this introduction of Negro slavery in the little struggling Colony in Virginia, began also the effort to keep the poor whites, who represented a submerged class, and the enslaved blacks separate. Cruel taskmasters, in their merciless greed for gain and in their unrelenting purpose to keep under subjection both classes, dehumanized both the unfortunate white servants as well as the helpless black slaves. Yet they stood out for the purity of the white race. While these white servants were forced to work side by side with the black slaves; while the toiling whites and the degraded blacks occupied the very same industrial level; while they were bound together in serfdom, yet there was a difference made in their clothes and food, religious ideals and political rights and on account of these differences a social chasm was created between the two servant classes. For a while the poor whites suffered all the hardships of the hopeless blacks; but this did not last long, the white taskmasters having mercy on the white servants even when unrelenting in their dealings with the Negro slaves. Thus it will be seen that the whites were given the advantage over the blacks from the very start and were taught to regard themselves as superior to the blacks.

This effort of the slave-owners and controllers of the servant class among the poor whites in the Colony produced an anomalous result. In order to keep under control and subjection the poor whites, and oppress the helpless blacks, and at the same time justify themselves and their system, even those who posed as Christians and respectable citizens in the Colony invoked the aid of the law to sanction and make secure their position. It is one of the acknowledged truisms that a guilty conscience needs a multitude of subterfuges to guard against dreaded contingencies. And so, when the society folks of the Virginia Colony had made up their minds that the Negro slaves were merely heathen, they stood ready to punish severely any white man or woman who had the temerity to cross over the line drawn between the races. Public sentiment and the law agreed that the two races should be kept separate, notwithstanding the similarity in the condition of the poor whites and the enslaved blacks.

The first prohibition relating to the servant status of two races seems to have been made in 1630; for it was about this time that the poor white servants and the Negro slaves began to form ties of friendship. They lived largely together in a debased and degrading serfdom. As they became acquainted with each other, they found in one another qualities which they mutually admired, and so their relationships became more and more intimate. They frequently violated the law and public opinion of the Colony, and hence the prohibition. The legal distinction between Negro slaves and white servantes was set forth in the law of the Colony as follows: “The Negroes shall be slaves for life; the white servants for a time.”

For forty-three years, that is, from 1619 to 1662, there was no visible sanction of the system of slavery in the laws of the Virginia Colony. The system was wholly controlled by public opinion, and that was sufficient. It was simply a matter of common consent that slavery was allowed to exist. On the 14th of December, 1662, however, the foundation of the institution of slavery was firmly laid by the passage of an act in which slavery was duly sanctioned and made hereditary by statutory enactment.

In 1670 the Colonists considered the grave question as to whether the stubborn and often retaliating Indians taken in battle were to become servants for a time or slaves for life. The sagacious Colonists entertained certain fears concerning the Indians which they did not experience in the case of the Negroes; and so they adroitly provided that captive Indians should be made servants for a time, or term of years, while the Negroes should be made slaves for life. The Colonists probably hated the Indians as much as they did the Negroes, but they realized that the Indians were natives of the soil, and they were being robbed both of their land and their liberties, thus being more unjustly treated than the Negroes who were robbed only of their liberties. And, again, the Indians constituted an element of danger and peculiar dread to the Colonists; while in the case of the Negroes there was nothing to fear from them.

In 1682 the little Virginia Colony found itself in a flourishing condition, prosperity and plenty abounded. The usual thing happened. Opulence has a tendency to make men tyrannical, and great success in business frequently leads to the heartlessness and unmerciful attitude of the fortunate toward the unfortunate. While the captured Indians were not classed as slaves up to this time, but simply as servants for a term of years, the growing wealth and increasing number of Colonists seemed to embolden them, and they threw off the mask which they had been wearing and boldly repealed the law which they had previously made respecting the Indians. Instead of them being held as servants for a term of years, they were made slaves for life, on the same footing as the Negroes. After the passage of this law, slavery, the cruel and inhuman institution, flourished and spread over the entire country, and the slave trade was entered into with great commercial activity. With the spread of slavery there sprang up philosophers and logicians who justified on the ground of human reason, the maintenance and perpetuity of the institution. Many of them, with pious pretentions, sought justification for the system in the Holy Bible.

The little Colony of Virginia encouraged the traffic in human beings from 1619 to 1775, because by doing so she was able to enrich herself. During this period the slaves in the Colony had no political or military rights. As early as 1639 slaves were prohibited by law from owning arms or carrying weapons of defense of any sort. In 1705 slaves were barred by special act from holding or exercising any office of honor or trust, civil, military or ecclesiastical; or occupying any place of public duty or power in the Colony. If found with a gun, sword, club, staff, or any other weapon, such slave was turned over to the constable who was required to administer twenty-five lashes on his bare back.

Indeed, such a thing as personal rights was incompatible with the condition of slavery as it existed at the time in the Colony. These poor creatures, the slaves, were not allowed to leave their master's plantation at any time without a written “pass,” and such passes were granted in only exceptional cases. If a slave attempted to lift his hand against a white man in defense of himself, he was punished by thirty lashes on his bare back; and if he dared to resist his master while his master was correcting him, he might be killed, and the master go unaccused in the eyes of the law of the Colony. If a slave was permitted to remain on another plantation more than four hours, his master was liable to a fine of two hundred pounds of tobacco; and if any white person had any commercial dealings with a slave, he was liable to imprisonment for one month without bail and compelled to give security in the sum of ten pounds. If a slave earned and owned a horse and buggy, it was perfectly lawful to seize them, and the church-warden was charged with the sale of the articles. Even with the full permission of his master, if a slave was found going about in the Colony trading articles for his own or for his master's profit, his master was liable to a fine of ten pounds and this fine went to the church-warden for the benefit of the poor of the parish in which the slave did the trading.

In no matters of law, civil, religious, or criminal, had the slave any rights. Even the free Negroes (and they were somewhat numerous in the Colony in 1775) were totally deprived of the right of the franchise. But being denied the right of suffrage did not exempt them from taxation. Although they had no representation, they were forced to pay taxes just the same. The free Negroes contributed to the support of schools and schoolteachers, but neither they nor their children were granted the benefits and blessings of education. The most common civilities and amenities of life were denied them.

But slavery was not confined to the little Colony of Virginia. It soon became a nation-wide institution. Some of the noblest and best people, North and South, owned slaves, and they were evidently sincere in their belief that the institution was of divine origin, as many of them contended. Able scientific scholars and theologians defended the institution. Some of the very strongest books written during the period were published in defense of the view that God made the black race for the purpose of serving the white race; that God gave this race peculiar physical structure and endowed it with certain qualities which rendered it well adapted to the climate of the South. Believing this, these scientists and theologians could not conceive any wrong or injustice connected with their treatment of the Negroes. “The long habit of thinking a thing right gives it the superficial appearance of being right,”*

* Thomas Paine.

It is hardly to be expected in this day, fifty years after the abolition of slavery, that any sane man can be found who will urge that the institution of slavery was really beneficial to the country at large, or that the system was calculated to promote loftier ideals of justice and brotherhood among men.

Not a single phase of the national life was unaffected by the institution. It engrossed the profoundest attention and consideration of senators and congressmen, of governors and judges; it was the one perplexing problem in industry, literature, agriculture, commerce, morals and religion. The entire country for some time was identified with the system. By the ramifications of business, education, commerce, and manufacture, there was hardly a village, town or city that was not, either directly or remotely, affected by it. The questions of morals and religion, the questions of right and wrong, the questions of justice and injustice, were all involved, and these important questions knew no geographical boundaries, were not limited by conventional lines, were not circumscribed by winding streams or lofty mountains. These questions were of universal interest and moment, and the destiny of the nation rested upon them.

It must be embarrassing to the brave, big-hearted, conscientious, intelligent white man of this day to review the past history of the nation, and to contemplate the perverted ethical ideals entertained by his ancestors, and their strange and corrupt notions of justice. He will find it difficult to undersand how they arrived at such conclusions and established such public opinion as was fostered by them in the darker days of this nation.

Under a Democratic form of government the people make the laws, and these laws express crystallized public opinion. It was public opinion that made slaves of the Africans in 1619 and kept them slaves until fifty years ago, when that public opinion underwent radical changes. This public opinion must undergo further changes before the Negroes of this Republic can enjoy all of the rights guaranteed them by the Constitution. While they are free from the tyranny of slavery in the sense that they are no longer chattels; yet the inalienable rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness are still denied to the Negro by the white public opinion of this day.

The United States government is founded on the principle of the equality of natural rights among men. This principle is proclaimed as one of the fundamental doctrines in the famous Declaration of Independence, which was adopted by the fathers of the republic, on the 4th day of July, 1776, the nation's birthday. This great document says:

“We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal; that they are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable rights; that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness; that to secure these rights, governments are instituted among men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed; and that when any form of government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the right of the people to alter or abolish it, and to institute a new government, laying its foundations on such principles, and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their safety and happiness.”

It is self-evident that all men, without reference to country, color, creed, or condition, are equal in natural rights; and also that no man or set of men has a natural right to exercise authority over others in opposition to their wishes. A self-evident truth is one that does not need to be proved. The truth of man's natural right is a self-evident truth. No sane man will willingly surrender to another his life, his liberty, or his chances for happiness; these are God's gifts, and are inalienable. They can be justly taken away from a man—only when he violates the laws and becomes a dangerous member of society.

Just as it is self-evident that all men have natural rights, so is it also self-evident that the purpose and design of government is, and should always be, the protection of the people in the just exercise of their rights. The design of government should be to secure to each and every man his life, liberty, reputation, and property, by the enactment and execution of good laws. Government should not be established for the glory and pride, nor for the special benefit or protection of any one class of people, but for the welfare of all the people. The people alone have the right to determine what is best, what system to adopt, and when they are not suited, they may, in an orderly and legal manner, change it, and select some other form that is better adapted to promote their safety and happiness.

The fundamental law of the United States, reflected in the Preamble to the Constitution, was conceived in noble hearts, for it sought perfect union, justice, domestic tranquillity, common defense, general welfare and the blessing of liberty. But, as will be seen in the next two chapters of this work, many bad men controlled governmental affairs in the South just after this government was established, and out of their heartless and selfish methods, they wrought in ways that are repugnant to fair-minded people of this day.

IT was claimed in the days of slavery that the Negroes needed the wise oversight, guidance and protection of the white race; that the institution of slavery was, in reality, a system designed for the development and protection of the heathen African, brought to this country to help develop its wonderful natural resources. This protection, however, took a strange turn; it was the queerest system of protection known in history. It protected (?) the slaves by depriving them of trial by jury; by forbidding them to assemble for the worship of God, unless their oppressors were present; by branding them as liars, in denying them their oath in law; by leaving it to their masters to determine how much or how little clothing was required to keep them warm, or to clothe or let them go naked as their masters pleased; by leaving it to their masters to feed or starve them, as whim or caprice might dictate; by allowing their masters to drive them to work in good weather or bad, in rain, cold or heat, without sufficient rest or sleep. This is the sort of protection (?) and guidance which slavery hedged about its victims.