ACCORDING to information received from my mother, if the reckoning is correct, I was born 7th August, 1836, at Rock-Rayman, in the State of Virginia. I do not know the district, having been “removed” from thence when but a child. From what I have heard my mother say about her father, it would appear that he came from Africa, and was of the Guinea tribe. Both my mother's parents died when she was quite young. Her brothers and sisters were sold when she was thirteen years old. She often spoke of them and of the cruel treatment she received in her youth. My father was an octoroon, that is, he was one-eighth negro blood, and he was a free man. When I was three years old, Mr. Brent, who owned me, removed to Alexandria, Virginia. My father then wanted to purchase my mother and myself, but our master would not sell us. It must be explained that a free man was permitted to marry a slave woman, but the woman's children would be slaves. My father died when I was nine years old, he left money for me to purchase my freedom when I became a man, but the money got into other people's hands and never reached me.

I can well remember when others little children and I were very happy, not knowing that we were slaves. We played merrily together, knowing nothing of the world and of the long oppression of our people. But as time passed on, first one and then another of those who were as helpless as myself were missed from the company of little slaves. One day we saw John, who was much older than the rest, with a small bundle in his hand, saying good-bye to his mother, while a white man stood waiting in the hall for him. His mother and mine, with others, were crying, and all seemed very sad. I did not know what to make of it. A vague fear came over me, but I did not know why. We heard that the man who took John away was a “Georgia Trader,” or slave dealer. Whenever we saw a white man looking over the fence as we were at play, we would run and hide, sometimes getting near our mothers, ignorantly thinking they could protect us. But another and again another of us would be taken away. All this showed to us the difference— the great difference—there was between the white and coloured children. White children were free—“free born”—but black children were slaves and could be sold for money. What seemed worse than all was the discovery that our mothers, whom we looked upon as our only protectors, could not help us. Often we were reminded that if we were not good the white people would sell us to Georgia, which place we dreaded above all others on earth.

Mr. Brent, our owner, held some office in the Government, and he removed to Washington when I was about seven or eight years old. I was dressed up and sent into the dining-room at each meal to drive away the flies from the table, and to carry out the dishes and other things. At night I had to bring in my young master's slippers. When I brought them in I was told: “This slipper is for the right foot, and that for the left.” Up to this time I did not know what was meant by “right ” and “left,” and could not understand the difference. The next night when I brought in the slippers I put the left foot one on the right foot. My master was very angry, and gave me a slap on the head. Night after night, with fear and trembling I would carry in the slippers. Sometimes I accidentally got them right, but more often they were wrong; then would I receive a blow on the head either with the hand or with the slippers. When I did get them right, then he would declare that I knew the right way all the time.

My poor mother, to whom I looked for protection, could do nothing. I can remember how, after my being ill-treated, mother would say, with tears in her eyes, “My son, be a good boy.” Oh, the memory of a loving and patient mother. She taught me what she knew. The whole of her education consisted in a knowledge of the Alphabet, and how to count a hundred. She first taught me the Lord's Prayer. And as soon as I was old enough, she explained to me the difference between the condition of the coloured and white people, and told me that if I would learn how to read and write, some day I might be able to get my freedom; but all that would have to be kept a secret. If a slave were known to teach another slave, he would be liable to be sent to the whipping-post, or he might at once be sold; for the law was very strict with regard to slaves in this matter—they were forbidden education. The Legislature of the State of Louisiana, U. S. A., during the days of slavery passed an Act that— “Whosoever shall make use language in any public discourse, or shall make use of signs or actions having a tendency to produce discontent amongst the coloured population, shall suffer imprisonment and hard labour, not less than three years nor more than twenty-one years, or death at the discretion of the Court.” And slaves were not allowed to be taught in Sabbath Schools; whoever taught such a school would “be fined five hundred dollars.” In Virginia and South Carolina, any school for teaching reading and writing, either to slaves or free people, was considered an unlawful assembly. If found out, the penalty for each pupil was twenty lashes. It was made the duty of any Justice of the Peace to issue his warrant to enter any house or school-house or meeting where coloured people would be likely to receive instruction. The law in Virginia was not so strict respecting Sunday School lessons, if the master made no objections. In the city of Savannah, Ga., an ordinance was made by which “Any person that teaches a person of colour, slave or free, to read and write, or cause such person to be so taught, is subject to a fine of thirty dollars for each offence; and every person of colour who shall teach reading or writing to be imprisoned ten days and whipped thirty-nine lashes.”

My mother's heartfelt desire seems to have been that I should be taught to read and write; and no opportunity was lost in trying to inspire me to look forward to freedom and an education. She told me what she knew about heaven, where there would be no slaves—all would be free. Oh, I used to think how nice it must be in heaven, “no slaves, all free,” and God would think as much of the black people as he did of the white. Then mother would talk of Africa; how that they were once all free there, but white people stole us from our country and made slaves of us. This appeared to be all she knew of the matter. I do thank my Blessed Jesus that she knew so much; it was the germ of all I know to-day. My mother's advice and my mother's teaching will ever remain fresh in my memory. I cannot forget her tears as she looked upon me with a mother's love, more than sixty years ago, and told me what little she knew. To her, as to thousands of poor slaves, the Bible was almost a sealed book. I remember her tenderness, and the deep security I felt when, in the evenings of my childhood, nestling in her arms, I listened as she told me how she loved me; not knowing what was passing through that loving mother's breast as her tearful eyes looked upon me. I was the first and only child at that time.

The few following lines, which I put together and often sang, I call “Memories of Childhood,” and frequently sing them now in memory of my dear mother:— Yes, I remember, remember well,When at my mother's knee she often would tellOf that sweet prayer the disciples prayed,Taught by the Lord who should be obeyed:

Our Father, which art in heaven; hallowed be Thy Name; Thy Kingdom come; Thy will be done in earth as it is done in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread; and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them that trespass against us; and lead us not into temptation; but deliver us from evil. For Thine is the Kingdom, and the power and the glory, for ever and ever. Amen.

My master was sent on Government business to Buenos Ayres. Some of the slaves were sent to the farm, but others were left in the hands of an agent at Washington. My mother took advantage of this opportunity and paid a freeman fifty cents to teach me for one month. All that I can remember of those lessons is: ab, eb, ib, ob, ub, ac, ec, ic, oc, uc, and similar simple combinations.

I heard that the Queen of England had given large sums of money to set the coloured people free, and I felt that if I could reach Canada I should be safe. It may be of interest if I mention that we had the idea on the plantation that the Queen was black, because she was so kind. Accustomed to nothing but cruelty at the hands of the white people, we had never imagined that a great ruler so kind to coloured people could be other than black; so the impression was that Queen Victoria was a coloured lady. To me she was the subject of many a dream; she often came before my mind, and filled my imagination with all manner of ideas as to the kind of person she was. I used to picture her as a black lady, amidst numerous coloured attendants, surrounded by a grandeur that exceeded all I had ever seen amongst the wealthy white people. And then I thought what a happy thing it must be to live under the reign of so good a Queen. Many stories were circulated concerning Victoria. Amongst the rest I remember one which had great interest for us. We had the impression that a hogshead (in which tobacco was packed) was the largest measure in existence, and it was reported that the Queen had sent a hogshead of money to purchase the liberty of us poor slaves; but that the money had got into the hands of the white people, who, instead of granting freedom to us, had kept the money for themselves, and still kept us as slaves. The origin of this story I cannot understand, except on the theory that the Queen, who had freed so many slaves in other parts, and whose Government had paid so much to liberate those in slavery, would not willingly leave us in bondage. Alas! there was no way for me to make my escape; the door seemed closed against me.

I would often think of my mother's parting blessing. She put her hand upon my head, and said, “Good-bye, my son; God bless you. Be a good boy, say your prayers, and try to seek religion. The fortune-teller said you were born to good luck.” I would look at the sun, and see how beautifully it shone on everything; all was bright but the poor slaves, who were doomed to drag out a miserable existence in bondage, classed as goods and chattels. Their condition was that of dumb creatures; their time, talents, mind and body were all claimed by the slave-owner, whose power over the slaves was absolute. The slave had no legal rights. In no respect whatever was he protected; beyond his master he had no appeal; he was not allowed to give evidence against a white man; his wife and children were by law “things”—chattels—the property of their master, to whom they were compelled to yield implicit obedience. “The New Orleans Bee” newspaper of the 14th October, 18—, says: “The slave who struck some citizens in Canel Street some weeks since has been tried and found guilty, and is sentenced to be hung on the 24th inst.” The Quarterly Anti-Slavery Magazine, July, 1837.—U S.A.—“The labour of the slave was compulsory and without any remuneration. The kind of labour, the amount of toil, the time allowed for rest, were all decided by the master or overseer. The clothing, food, and bedding, both as to quality and quantity, depended upon the kind of master the slaves had. Some masters were very cruel, but others were very kind. The treatment of the household slaves— or, as they are called in England, servants—differed very much from that of field slaves, the latter being for the most part under the control of the overseers, who were often very cruel to them. Yet there were exceptions, some overseers being very kind.”

Hardly a day passed without some one of my own long oppressed people being led to the whipping post, and there lashed most unmercifully. Every auction day many were sold away to Georgia, or some other of the far-off Southern States, and often could be seen in companies, handcuffed, and on their way to the Southern markets, doomed, doomed to perpetual slavery. So absolutely were the slaves in the power of their masters that they were pledged, leased, exchanged, taken for debt or gambled off at the gambling table; and men women, and children were sold by auction at the public auction block— husbands and wives separated, never to meet again, and little children torn from their parents' loving arms, and sold into slavery, and into the hands of strangers from distant parts. Here is a pictorial illustration of the slaves being sold at a public auction—

In the midst of all their sufferings, the slaves would sing many of the religious songs that were sung by Jubilee Singers. And I often joined in the singing, When I resolved to “seek religion,” I was then nearly sixteen years of age. My master was a member of the Episcopalian Church, and would teach me to say my prayers, and the Apostles' Creed, and read to me about Abraham's servants and Isaac's servants, and Jacob's servants, and “servants, obey your masters.” He would read these “wise” precepts over to me so carefully, have prayers, and then, when he felt like it (which he often did), gave me a lashing. And whenever he thought I ought to have a flogging, he would say to me: “Report yourself to me to-morrow morning after breakfast.” If I did not report to get my flogging, I would have an extra lashing for that. Yet, with all this, my lot was much better than many of those around me. There was a man who owned the next plantation whose name was Jackson. He was so cruel to the slaves that he was known to them as “the devil.” I remember well how I used to think of “seeking religion,” but whenever I began to think seriously on this matter, a great obstacle confronted me. I was superstitious. Superstition is characteristic of the race in Africa. Having been brought to America, not permitted to be taught to read the Bible, and having every avenue to education closed against us, it was natural we should retain the superstitions of our fathers. My idea was that if I set out to “seek religion,” I must meet with that old serpent, the devil. I often heard slaves say that when they set out to “seek religion,” the devil set out with them, and this greatly perplexed me. Then I heard them talk of seeing ghosts. But after they were converted they would go six and ten miles at night to a meeting, and God would be with them. I resolved to set out definitely to get religion, with all my strange thoughts and fears. I thought the worst sin a man could be guilty of was murder. I knew I was innocent of that. One day, I was out gathering blackberries, and commenced to pray the Lord's Prayer; I knew not what else to say. As I prayed, a rabbit jumped up from under the bush from which I was gathering the berries. I felt sure this was the devil. I had heard that when he deceived Eve in the garden, he came like a serpent; and, furthermore, he could put himself into any shape. I was never more frightened in all my life. I was afraid to say my prayers at night, not so much because I might disturb the devil, but because he might disturb me. I wept bitterly in my loneliness and in my darkness of mind, having no father or mother to direct me.

About the year 1852 my master took to himself a wife, and then I was sold to his brother, who lived in Richmond, Virginia. Here I again met my dear mother, after having been separated from her for about six years. This brother had always been kind to slaves, and every member of the family followed his example. How much he paid for me I never heard. His son once told me that he had been offered three thousand dollars in gold for me, but that he would not accept the amount. From this time I received better treatment. I was never flogged after coming into his hands. I was told that I was to be the property of his eldest son. He was much younger than myself. Now, during all this time I never lost sight of the lessons my dear mother had taught me, and while I was separated from her I worked hard in order to be able to make the letters of the Alphabet, and had learned to spell a large number of words. But I found out that the white people did not use the large letters of the Alphabet as I did when writing. I was strongly of the impression that an education consisted in knowing how to write, and I also knew that the slave-owners were opposed to their slaves acquiring even the most elementary literary knowledge. There was a slave on our lot named Anthony Burnes, who managed to get to Boston. Under the fugitive slave law he was brought back to Richmond, Virginia, and put into the slave pen for sale. Young Mr. Brent came to me one day when Burnes was in the trader's pen, and told me that Anthony was in gaol. He knew how to write, and had written himself a pass and had gone to the north, and that his master and other gentlemen had brought him back, and now he would be sold to Georgia. All this, said he, Burnes brought upon himself because he knew how to write. “Lor's o'er me,” I said, “is dat so?” He answered very gravely, “Yes, that is so.”

When I got by myself, I said, “If dat is so, I am going to learn how to write, and if I can get to Boston, I know I can get to Canada.” With this resolve, I struggled hard to learn how to write. I began by pocketing the nice-looking letters I saw, and go to my room and try to make letters like them. I remember being in a church once, where I saw a lot of letters in a box. The writing looked so plain and nice, it seemed that I could not do better than take a few of the nicest looking ones to help me in my writing lessons. But this did not do, for although some of the letters were very nice, I did not know what to call them. The youngest son of the master had a copy book. When I saw it I decided to have one like it. The first time after this when I had five cents, I went to a book store and asked for a copy book. I had made up my mind what to say if the bookseller should ask me for whom I wanted it. I intended telling him that it was for my master. But fortunately he did not question me in that direction. I told him in answer to his question as to what kind of copy book I wanted, to put them down that I might see them, and I would tell him. I went home and began to learn from this book how to write. The letters were alphabetically arranged. I got on very well, but another difficulty presented itself—I could not spell. I purchased a spelling-book in the course of time, kept it in my pocket, and at every opportunity I looked into it. But there were so many words I could not understand. At night, when the young master would be getting his lessons, I used to choose some word I wanted to know how to spell, and say, “Master, I'll bet you can't spell ‘looking-glass.’” He would at once spell it. I would exclaim, “Lor's o'er me, you can spell nice.” Then I would go out and spell the word over and over again. I knew that once it was in my head it would never be got out again. This young man was very kind, and was always willing to answer my questions. But sometimes he would ask why I wanted to know, and I would say, “I want to see how far you are.” In the course of time he would often read portions of his lessons to me. If I liked this and wanted to hear it again, I would say, “Lor's o'er me, read that again,” which he often did. In this way each week I added a little to my small store of knowledge about the great world in which I lived.

But the door of freedom seemed as fast closed against me as ever. There was a large map of the United States hanging on the wall of the dining room, and each day as I attended to my duties I would stop a few minutes and look at the map. In the course of time I learned to spell the names of nearly all the cities along the railway route from Richmond to Boston, wondering whether I should ever see those cities where all were free. Never shall I be able to express my intense longing for freedom in those long, long days of slavery. During all this my heart was inclined towards “seeking religion.” Some of the slaves sang so much about “heaven” and “home,” and “rest” and “freedom,” and seemed so happy that I often longed to be able to join them. Many of the melodies were sung by the Jubilee Singers. “The home beyond,” where there was perfect rest and freedom and peace, and where there would be no slavery, was almost daily before me. But how to get religion was what perplexed me; yet it was essential to my happiness both here and hereafter. See how the heathen grope on in the darkness after God, and how on awakening turn towards Him. When, thirty-eight years afterwards, I went to Africa, I found that on comparison the condition of the plantation negroes in America was but little better than that of the heathen in Africa. But “How shall they hear without a preacher?” Rom. x., 14. Dear Christian reader, will you not do something to send the Gospel to Africa—poor, long neglected Africa, the land of my fathers.

In the year 1857 there was a great revival in America. The coloured people thought the Judgment Day was coming. Everywhere w heard of great meetings and of thousands of souls being converted. In the Richmond tobacco factories, which employed many thousands of slaves, there were many converts daily. First one and then another of my friends would set out to “seek religion.” At last I resolved that, should I live for a thousand years I would not stop seeking religion until I found the peace I needed; but the thought of meeting that old serpent, the devil, was chilling and repulsive to me. The converts used to relate their experience, and some of them said, as before mentioned, that when they set out to seek religion the devil set out with them; that while seeking they would “fast and pray”; and that the devil would do all he could to turn them back. This troubled me above all else. I thought the others had seen the devil with their natural eyes, and in this way I should have to see him. But I dreaded the encounter and feared to go to bed, and sat out in the porch at night, sometimes dozing a little, then awakening with fear, my thoughts being of that dreadful time through which I must go to get religion. A rat suddenly scuttling across the floor would make me tremble, or a cat creeping along the wall toward me would send me into a paroxysm of fear that the moment had come. All the night I wished for the day, and yet when the day came I regretted the cowardice of the night. Matters came to such a pass that during the day I could scarcely speak to anyone; instead of being lively, and cheerful I was gloomy and nervous, and my master wanted to know what was wrong, and even threatened to send me to Georgia. But I had made up my mind that wherever I went I would not stop seeking religion until I found peace. I knew that God was stronger than the devil and my master, and so I made my request to God, “Please don't let master sell me to Georgia.” Then I began to think that I must in some way renovate myself to be acceptable to God; that I must do something to make myself fit. I therefore fasted as long as I could, until I was obliged by hunger to take a hearty meal; but that meant the beginning of the fasting all over again, as I had turned back. Through losing rest night after night, and through abstinence from my necessary food, I was reduced to an indescribable condition; it was just a living death to me. I felt I could stand it no longer.

One day I met a coloured man in the street, named Stephney Brown. He was a Christian, and quite an intelligent man. He explained to me the simple Gospel. He told me to go to God, and say: “Lord, have mercy upon me, a hell-deserving sinner, for Jesus' sake; set me out your way and not my way, for Jesus' sake.” “But,” said he, “you must have faith. Now this is faith: If you came to see me, and asked me for a drink of water, you would expect and believe that I would give it to you. So you must ask God for Jesus' sake to have mercy upon you, a hell-deserving sinner. If you die as you are, you will go to hell, but you must ask pardon for Jesus' sake. He cannot deny you if you ask for Jesus' sake.” “For Jesus' sake” seemed to enter into my soul. “Have mercy upon me, a hell-deserving sinner, for Jesus' sake,” rang through my heart all the way home, and I began to understand the finished work of my blessed Jesus as I never had before. As soon as my work was done for that night, and all was quiet, I resolved that, if I lived for a thousand years, I would never stop praying “for Jesus' sake.” I went into the dining room, fell down upon my knees, and said: “O Lord have mercy upon me, a hell-deserving sinner, for Jesus' sake.” Then I became very happy. I got up and went into the porch. Everything appeared to be different to me. The very stars in the heaven seemed brighter, and I was feeling brighter and so very happy. I did not see any great sights, but there was an inward rejoicing. I had not done anything—I could not do anything—to merit this any more than the thief upon the cross, but my blessed Jesus had done it all; there was nothing for me to do. In the matter of salvation, all that God requires of us is to acknowledge with repentance our sins and receive with gratitude His salvation. The blood of Jesus had been accepted as the full atonement for the sin of the sinner. Oh, how many weary hearts and wasted lives there are to-day through failing to recognise this important truth. The Blessed Christ has atoned for my sin, and all I have to do is to accept God's pardon, and eternal life. The Lord Jesus was now not one whom I had merely heard about, but He was my blessed Jesus—just as much mine as if there was no person besides myself in the world. Precious Gospel-Jesus, the sinner's friend. I used to hear the coloured people say that there were some white people who went to heaven. My idea was that there were not many of them who went to heaven, because their cruelty and life were not at all Christian. But now I thought that if my master would only come to Jesus he could be saved. I began to pray for the white people, and to tell all around what a dear Salvation I had found.

“Free indeed,” John viii., 36. I had now a free soul. But my poor mother, who had taught me the Lord's Prayer and for years been so anxious that I should “seek religion,” had never herself understood the finished work of Christ. She now, however, accepted Him as her own Saviour, and gave herself to the Lord in glad and full surrender. I was anxious, after my conversion, to unite with the Baptist Church. In Richmond there were Churches of coloured people, but they had white Pastors, who never failed to keep us informed about Abraham's servants, and as to the injunction to Hagar. I could not join any Church unless I had a “pass” from my master. I went to him and asked permission to be baptised. He at once said: “No, you shall not unite with the Baptist Church.” Mr. Brown, my spiritual adviser, told me to go to the Lord, and say, “Lord, if Thou hast ever done anything for my never-dying soul, please manifest Thyself to me in moving the master to give me a pass to be baptised.” I think it was nearly three months before I again ventured to ask him. But when I summoned up enough courage to ask him the second time, he at once gave permission. This was a manifest answer to prayer. When the appointed Sabbath for baptism arrived, my mother and I “went down into the water” hand-in-hand, and were baptised, rejoicing in the privilege of following our Divine Master, and when we “came up out of the water” we “went on our way rejoicing.”

Soon after my conversion I felt a deep desire to preach the Gospel. But two difficulties presented themselves: first, I was a slave, for though I had a free soul, yet my body was in slavery; then, second, I could not read the Bible with much understanding, and there was no way for me to succeed but the old way, that, was, by taking advantage of every opportunity to learn all I could. Just about this time a young student (white) came from College on the Sabbaths to preach to the coloured people. He read the fifth chapter of Matthew. I was much struck with his explanation, and I became anxious to know how to read this chapter. Now there was a box of old books stored away in a lumber room, and amongst these books was a large old Bible. I took this Bible to my room, and day after day, when I had finished my work in the house, and had a little time to spare, I would go to my room, lock myself in, and try to read the Bible, commencing at Genesis and calling over the letters of each word I could not understand as follows:—“In the b-e-g-i-n-n-i-n-g God c-r-e-a-t-e-d the heaven and the earth”; and thus I struggled on from day to day. The young master had been requested by his mother to read a chapter in the New Testament every night. Often when with him in his own room at night I would get him to read the fifth chapter of Matthew for me. To the reading of this I would listen attentively. Thus I got to know the words “multitudes,” “mountain,” “disciples,” “blessed,” and in time I had learned to repeat many verses of the chapter from memory. I then began to look about in the Bible, and found in many places the same words in the first and second syllables that I knew. In this way I got to understand a little about the Bible, and at the same time I was learning to spell. After my conversion I would often “Steal away to Jesus” with other slaves, to some quiet place for prayer, over the stable, or in the kitchen when the master and mistress were away, though we knew that if we were discovered we should be locked up for the night, and that the next morning we should receive from five to nine or even thirty lashes for unlawfully assembling together. Over five slaves in such a gathering, though they had passes, constituted an unlawful assembly. At night no slave was allowed to be out without a pass from his master. We used to have such a good time at these meetings. No wonder the Jubilee Singers sang with such deep feeling when those of them who were once slaves remembered the meetings of this kind at which they sang and prayed almost in a whisper for fear of being heard. How appropriate to sing softly and quietly:— Steal away,Steal away,Steal away to Jesus;Steal away,Steal away home;I ain't got long to stay here.

Dear Reader, have you stolen away to Jesus? Has He liberated you from spiritual bondage? His promise and encouragement are found in the words, “Whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved.”—Rom. x. 13. Have you ever called in faith? See verse 10. If you have not, then God help you, as you look upon these words, to say, ‘I will, God helping me.” Let every worldly engagement wait, and every secret plan go, and take God at His word. Doubt not our blessed Lord for a moment when He says, “Come unto Me, all ye that labour and are heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.”—Matthew xi. 28. “Him that cometh to Me I will in no wise cast out.”—John vi. 37. Stop and think of what the Lord has done for you. “Steal away to Jesus” now. “Steal away to Jesus” from your surroundings and your friends and your very self. He has proved His love to you by giving Himself a ransom for you—I Tim. ii. 6; Gal. ii. 20. “He came to seek the lost.”— Luke xix. 10. “He bore your sins in His own body on the tree.”— I Peter ii. 24.

After Jesus found me and gave me peace in my soul, I often thought of Africa, the land of my fathers, and a deep desire possessed me to go and tell my own people about my blessed Jesus. During the summer months for several years, my owners hired me out to wait in an hotel at the sea-side. On two occasions I tried to make my escape, but was not successful. It was a very serious thing for a runaway slave to be captured. When a slave was missing from the plantation, then several planters or “overseers” united in what was called a “negro hunt.” A pack of bloodhounds were called together. A company of men, mounted on their horses, set out for the woods and jungles as if when purposing to hunt lions and tigers. If the dogs should reach the poor slave before he could climb a tree, or get into some cave, he would be in danger of being torn to pieces. If the slave were not found, great rewards would then be offered for his capture and restoration, and when he was brought back he was subjected to the most cruel punishment. The only place of real safety for the poor slave, where he might have refuge, was in the dominions of Her Majesty Queen Victoria. It is worthy of special mention just here that as far back as 1840 we find in the proceedings of the Anti-Slavery Convention, held in London; it is reported that in Upper Canada there were to be found nearly 15,000 coloured people, chiefly fugitive slaves and their children, from the Southern States. They had been assisted in their escape and support for the most part by the Quakers and Abolitionists, who did their work so skilfully and successfully and also secretly that their method of deporting the poor slave to a place of safety was termed “The Underground Railroad.” The following are quotations from the records of the U.G.R.R. and Anti-Slavery journals:—

It may be interesting and helpful to my younger friends if I go back in history some fifty-five years before the election of Mr. Abraham Lincoln as President of the United States, and see how step by step God has blessed the efforts of the Society of Friends and the Anti-Slavery Society from the day when the question of the “Abolition of the Slave Trade” was introduced in the British Parliament in 1807, to the fall of Richmond, Virginia, in April,

In the year 1860, there was great excitement in Richmond over the election of Mr. Abraham Lincoln as President of the United States. The slaves prayed to God for his success, and they prayed very especially the night before the election. We knew he was in sympathy with the abolition of Slavery. The election was the signal for a great conflict for which the Southern States were ready. The question was: Shall there be Slavery or no Slavery in the United States? The South said: Yes, there shall be Slavery. In 1861 a convention was held in Montgomery, Alabama, to decide the matter. Referring to that convention, the following is from the “Chicago Tribune,” 5th February, 1891: “Thirty years ago yesterday the Convention which framed the Confederate Constitution, met at Montgomery, Ala. It was one of the most purely Democratic meetings ever held in the country. None but Democrats attended, and their work was Calhoun-Democratic from beginning to end. Three things distinguished the Rebel Constitution. One was the open unqualified recognition and endorsement of slavery. Another was that no internal improvements should be made at the expense of the General Government. The third was an express provision that no protective duties of any kind should be imposed. This was carrying out the teaching of Calhoun, and the declaration of the Democratic Cincinnati platform, readopted at Baltimore, in favour of “progressive free trade” with the world. Of these three Democratic principles but one survives. The war ended Slavery. The greed for Federal appropriations for the levying of the Mississippi River cured Southern Democrats of their hostility to internal improvements. Free trade is left, however, and is as much a cardinal tenet of the Democratic party as it was in old Montgomery days. That article of its faith was not taken from Jackson, but owes its paternity to Calhoun, the brains of the Democracy.”

God-fearing men and women in the North, and in Great Britain and Ireland, whom the Lord had raised up to be our friends, could see in the struggle the Almighty hand stretched out on behalf of a long, long oppressed people, whose cries had ascended up to heaven like the cries of Israel of old under Egyptian bondage.

Of the campaign around Richmond I can speak from personal knowledge and experience. Richmond was the capital of the Confederate States—the States that wanted to establish a slaveholder's republic. The fortifications built by the compulsory labour of the slaves were massive and strong. This work reminds one of the great arch-rebel himself who compels men and women in spiritual slavery to build up the walls of their own imprisonment against the army of liberty, and who also forces his victim to forge the chains for their own bondage and banishment from God.

The City of Richmond was the stronghold of the Southern States. I can remember the excitement among both white and coloured people in Richmond at the time it was threatened. All the coloured people in Richmond that I spoke to believe that if the North gained the victory they would have their freedom. The white people believed that “Cotton” was King, and that England would in time help them. My master's eldest son volunteered for service, and I was sent into the Army to be with him, and to cook and do other things. I had an opportunity of seeing much of the campaign around York town on the Peninsula, and I have often been in Lord Cornwallis's cave. During the second year of the War, Mr. Brent died, and his slaves and other property fell to his widow, who was, indeed, an exceptionally kind lady to her slaves. After his death I had to be at home most of the time until the close of the war. During some of this time the widow hired me out to a firm to make cigars. She received twenty dollars a week for my services.

In the midst of the warring days I was bent upon a more interesting campaign, and in 1863 was married to Henrietta Thompson, maid to Mrs. Cooper, wife of General S. G. Cooper, Inspecting General of the Confederate Army, and sister of the great General Lee. I had met my wife first at Richmond.

At this time I could read fairly, and could also write a little, and I was able to understand much that was in the newspapers, and I began to teach others what I knew, and had a class of six pupils.

Many of the coloured people could read the Bible, and they believed that the eleventh Chapter of Daniel referred directly to the war. We often met together, and read this chapter in our own way. The fifth verse would perplex many of our company, and then verses 13-15 would be much dwelt upon, for though the former verses spoke of the apparent victory of the South, these latter verses set forth the ultimate triumph of the North, for did it not say: “For the King of the North shall return and shall set forth a multitude greater than the former . . . . so the King of the North shall come and cast up a mound and take the most fenced cities, and the arms of the South shall not withstand.” Thus we eagerly grasped at any statements, which our anxiety, hope, and prayer concerning our liberty led us to search for, and which might indicate the desirable ending of the great War. Whenever we met all our talk would be about what we had heard, and about freedom. Sometimes when we heard of other cities and towns having been taken by the United States Army, we became impatient, and talked of “running the blockade.” At night we listened to the booming of the guns, and we were much excited. During the latter part of the Siege of Richmond the poor suffered very much indeed. Toward the end of March much anxiety and restlessness were manifested on the part of the white people. The slaves were joyful and expectant. My master used to ask: “Won't you fight for me, Tom?” And in fear I would reply: “Oh yes, Massa.” And then I would feel how wrong it was to say what I did, as it was contrary to my intention, and I would ask the Lord to forgive me. But this was in the early part of the War. On Sunday, April 2nd, 1865, there was great excitement in the city, “General Grant had taken Petersburg and was closing in around us.” This was only twenty miles from Richmond.

In the afternoon many of the families began to leave the city, and late in the evening President Davis, General S. S. Cooper, General Lee, and staff all left Richmond. I feel sure that such a noteworthy Sunday night will be remembered by many at this present time, and who were very anxiously waiting for that famous Monday morning, April the 3rd. It will never be forgotten by me. About four o'clock on the Monday morning the great magazine outside the city was blown up by the Confederate troops to prevent the ammunition falling into the hands of the Northern troops. I commenced at once to shout, “Hoozah for Grant and Linktum.” My wife said, “Tom, ye'll wake the baby.” “Never you mind, Henrietta—Hoozah for Grant and Linktum,” I shouted. The large tobacco factories were set fire to, and the fire spread to other large buildings. At the break of day a coloured man was the first to carry the news into General Weitzel's camp that President Davis and General Lee had “skedaddled.” At eight o'clock in the morning about forty of the United States Cavalry of General Weitzel's division, who were already holding the north side of the James River, rode into Richmond, and proceeded at once to the public square of the capital. As these men came galloping up the street they came to a side entrance to the square, where there was a gate which, as the Irishman would say, “You shut it when you want to open it.” The horses could not pass through this gate, but soon the whole thing was knocked away by men prepared for such business. After passing through the gateway there was a steep hill to ascend. As one of the men passed through I got him by the leg. His horse galloped on up the hill, but I hung on. I commenced to tell the man of a free coloured man who had volunteered to fight against the North, and who had been made an officer by the Confederates and forced the slaves to military service. Those thus forced to join the company never had an opportunity of fighting, for which they were thankful. I was very serious, but the soldier rode on laughing.

The United States troops soon took possession of Richmond city, and quickly restored order. The damage to property was very great. Soon the Stars and Stripes were seen floating over the old State Capital.

The joy and rejoicing of the coloured people when the United States army marched into Richmond defies description. For days the manifestations of delight were displayed in many ways. The places of worship were kept open, and hundreds met for prayer and praise. Of the many songs of the Jubilee this was the chorus of one of them:

I cannot now describe the joy of my soul at that time. This was indeed the third birthday to me: Born August 7th, 1836—a “Thing.”Born again (John iii. 7), June, 1857—a Child of God.Born into human liberty, April 3rd, 1865—a Free Man. No longer was I a mere chattel, but a man, free in body, free in soul; praise the Lord. It is impossible to give an adequate idea of the abounding joy of the people—the great multitude of liberated slaves—after the long years of toil and suffering. Strong men and women were weeping and praising God at the same time. Those who were not Christians exhibited their joy in other ways. They capered about and beat their banjos; some of them climbed up trees and yelled out expressions of wild delight, and others made speeches to the crowds. That scene of years ago comes up vividly before me at this moment. The long night of affliction in the house of our bondage had passed, and that deeply desired and hoped for and prayed for time had come! The cries and groans and prayers of millions of poor and defenceless slaves, with the prayers of their friends in America, England, Ireland, Scotland, Wales, and everywhere, had reached the throne of God. Innocent blood of murdered men and women and children had cried unto God from the ground, and He in His own time, which is always the right time and best time, and in His own way, which is the very best way, answered that cry.

From August, 1620, to April, 1865—that is, for 245 years—our people had been in the school of adversity, and hundreds of thousands were but little removed from their native conditions as in Africa. Then the prison door of slavery was flung widely open to four and a half millions of slaves, who marched out with joy and rejoicing into the liberty which had been so unjustly denied them for so long; reminding us of Nahum's statement: “For now wilt I break his yoke from off thee, and will burst thy bonds in sunder.” These liberated men and women began their work toward the amelioration of the condition of their race and the evangelization and help of Africa, the land of their fathers.

The Emancipation Proclamation sent forth from the pen of Abraham Lincoln, who eventually fell a martyr for American freedom, was the sublimest and most important State paper that had ever been sent out from the Executive Mansion at Washington to the American people. This legislative act elevated Lincoln above the high level of America's greatest statesman. He was a man eminently fitted for the supreme position which he occupied. He saw the peril of his country and knew that the important moment had come. In taking the strong, wise step which he did, he saved the country from ruin and disgrace, and, thank God, made over four million hearts to rejoice. And not only so, but this proclamation was the first step towards the evangelization of Africa by her own sons and daughters; for can we not trace a great work slowly, so slowly, but very, very surely, being accomplished. The coloured people are being Christianized and educated, and thousands are anxious to go to Africa to teach their own people, in the land of their fathers, the great truths they themselves had learnt; and I claim that none are more fitted for this work than Africa's own sons and daughters who are willing to return to their own country and people—the Ethiopian returning to Ethiopia. All will not return or desire to return to Africa. There are millions who are at “home as much as the white man” in America. Brought to the country against his will, the Negro has helped to make the country what it is. In the Revolution he fought side by side with the white man for the country's liberty, and for his own. When the Civil War broke out, coloured men in the Northern States offered their services. And when Abraham Lincoln issued his Proclamation, 150,000 Negroes were found in the army of the Union. Hence the feeling that they have a claim to be included in the Commonwealth of the nation. But there are many who long to go to Africa, the land of their fathers.

My first money received as a free man was earned in this way. A short time after the fall of Richmond, a Mr. Sterns gave General Weitzel and his officers a dinner, and he sent for me to take charge of this dinner. I felt confident that I could manage it, for not only for my master but for his friends also I had managed great dinners and other great social festivities. As already referred to, I had been hired out to wait in hotels, and thus I gained some experience. On one occasion Mr. Brent was offered three thousand dollars in gold for me by a gentleman who wanted me to take charge of his private house. The day of the feast to the General came on. I went to take up my duties. All necessary help was furnished. At the appointed hour all was ready. Wine flowed freely. I felt it a great honour to be waiting on a General and his staff who had so recently made so many hearts glad. As the evening came on, and I had seen to everything being put in its place and all cleared up, I began to think of what I should charge for my services, for the gentleman would be sure to ask me. I thought of how common labourers before the war were paid. I concluded that on such a scale two and a half dollars would be reasonable— half a guinea. At last Mr. Sterns came in, praised my efforts, seemed perfectly satisfied, and gave me three “green-back” notes; and I thanked him. He also had a package of nuts and sweets put up for me, such as we had not seen for several years. When afterwards I looked at the notes, there were two twenty dollar notes and one ten dollar note—fifty dollars in all—ten guineas. My poor heart leaped for joy. I was soon home to tell my wife and mother of my good fortune, and they were greatly pleased.

Having a longing to acquire more knowledge and looking forward with the hope of doing something for Africa, my thoughts were now turned toward the North, and especially after the death of our little Albert, July, 1865, at the age of eleven months and nineteen days. Within three days after the death of our little boy my mother followed him. We took the little lifeless body down to show it to her and she simply said, “Waft on, my little grandson, grandma will follow you in a few days.”

Through the kindness of Lieutenant George Browning, U. S. A., I was permitted to sail on one of the troopships from Richmond to New York. After two days and nights we landed in New York. A gentleman in Richmond had charged me to be very careful in New York. It was reported to be a very bad place, and that a pickpocket could take off a gentleman's vest in the street with watch and chain and all, and he would be unconscious of the robbery until he got home. I believed every word of the report at the time, and to fix the belief in my mind, the first thing that specially took my attention when we landed in New York was, “BEWARE OF PICKPOCKETS.” This was a large sign across the Pier, and the same words were on several boards close to the gangway. I lost sight of everything else in my alarm, and I was wholly occupied in passing along in watching for a man robbing another man. After some officers and their friends were safely landed, the news came that the troops were ordered to Hart's Island to camp. I was permitted to go with them. I was much relieved indeed. Here I made up my mind to go to work. I would cook and wash for the soldiers, and do anything I could to make a little money. After gaining about forty dollars I resolved upon making an attempt to get to New York. Lieutenant Browning kindly gave me a letter of introduction to the Proprietor of the Leland Hotel, Broadway, N.Y. expressing a hope that he would give me a situation as waiter. But to me that introduction meant a very different thing from what it was really intended to be. I thought it was a warrant that I should stay at the hotel like a gentleman until I found work. I was quite happy under this delusion when I left Hart's Island. I shall never forget the feeling when going up to the ticket office to ask for a ticket for New York—a free man, no pass required.

When I reached New York quite a number of cabmen— “hackmen,” we called them—got around me, which greatly surprised me. Then they began to cater for my patronage. “Mister, will you have a carriage, sir?” “Yes; do you know where Leland's Hotel is in the Broadway?” “Yes, sir,” said several of the men. “Take me there,” I said to one of them. All my belongings were in a small haversack across my shoulder. After driving some little while down a narrow street, with fine shops or stores, I commenced to think I had heard my owners talk very, much about “Broadway.” “Broadway, New York.” I had an idea that it was a broad way, about three or four times broader than Broad Street, Richmond. I called to the driver, “I thought I told you to take me to Broadway?” “Yer in Broadway,” said he. “Can you read?” he added. “Yes, I can,” I said. “Look on the gas lamp, thin.” I did look, and I was greatly relieved to find that we were indeed in Broadway, There were two men on the “box” when I reached the hotel. I asked the first man the cost of the drive. I forget, now, whether it was three or four dollars. I was glad to pay him and ask no questions. I went into Leland's Hotel, and sent my letter into the Proprietor, and asked for a room; then, wishing to display my only accomplishment, I turned to the hotel book to enter my name. I noticed that the clerks, bell boys, and porters were all amused. Then a porter was called and was told to “take this gentleman to some respectable place where he can get lodgings.” Oh, the feeling of disappointment. I cannot express it. It was most bitter. The porter soon made me feel comfortable when he told me of a Mr. Bruce, a Christian gentleman, in Broom Street, who kept a boarding house. On going down Broom Street I asked the way to Mr. Bruce's boarding house, when I was very politely invited into a house and requested to take a rest and to tell all about the army. But I was doubtful about this proffered kindness, and I was anxious to find this “Boarding House.” I could see at once that the people were New York sharpers. When I got to Bruce's boarding house I received a real hearty welcome and good advice. The idea prominent in my mind at this time was, to secure a situation in some store, and then to work all day and study hard each night, and thus get a start in the new life; keeping my eyes on the main thing, and that was to prepare myself for Africa. But failing to obtain a situation in any of the stores, even as an errand boy, I saw there was only one course open for me, and that was to become a waiter in an hotel or in a private family. I soon found there was as much prejudice against my race in New York as there was in the South. Eventually I returned to the great hotel as waiter, where I commenced work.

Some of the waiters came around and advised me as to the best way to get on. I was to be careful about concealing the fact that I came from the South. Some of the others were ashamed to say that they had ever been in slavery, and afraid of being called “contraband of war,” so told me not to make known that I came from Virginia, but, on the contrary, to state that I had always been free. This was a great temptation. But God helped me to speak the truth, because it was the truth. And this I found to be the best thing to do under all circumstances. Shortly after the entrance upon duty at the hotel a gentleman arrived. He was directed to my table. He ordered what he wanted, and then while slowly eating his dinner, he asked for my name. I said, “My name is Thomas, sir.” “Well, Thomas,” said he, “where are you from?” “From Richmond, sir.” “And who was your master?” “Mr. Brent, sir.” “And what are you doing here?” “I am trying to make some money to get an education, sir.” “And what do you want to be educated for?” “I want to be educated and to go to Africa to preach to my people, sir.” “Well, Thomas,” said he, “I am from the South too; I am from New Orleans.” He then gave me his name and told me what he liked for dinner, breakfast, and for other times, an told me to have such things ready at the right time, and then he gave me a five dollar note. When the gentleman left then some of the advisers came up, eagerly asking: “What did he give you?” “A five dollar note.” I said, “And what did you tell him?” “I told him I had been a slave in Richmond, Virginia, and that my intention was to get some education in order to go and preach to my people in Africa.” It was thus in a wonderful way God raised up friends for me, who took a deep interest in me. Others gave me books, and in many ways showed me kindness. Some of the young men who advised me to hide my true history as a slave, when they saw that, in my case at least, the honest truth was the best policy, began to parade their past with great freedom of detail, saying that they came from “Old Virginia,” and had been slaves. But some of these men had been born freemen, and how they could tell a lie with the hope of gain I could not understand. He that builds upon falsehood will utterly and awfully fail and fall.

Another gentleman on whom I waited at my table wished me to leave the Hotel and take charge of his private house. I agreed, and he gave me money to send for my wife that she also might come to New York. That day was indeed a happy day for me. It brought great joy to my heart. I longed to have my wife with me, for she was a true helpmeet to me in every way. I at once sent for her to come to New York. The gentleman who engaged me, and also his wife and children, were very kind to us, and allowed my wife to come and stop with me. The lady of the house took a fancy to her, and this resulted in immediate arrangements being made for my wife to remain in the home.

After some stay in New York I heard that there was to be a public meeting in what was known as the “Coloured Presbyterian Church,” to select a delegate to go to Washington to appeal to congress for the “Freedman's right of suffrage.” I decided to go, and as the appeal was made for money, I took a dollar with me for the collection. I felt deeply concerned about the condition of my people, and was most anxious to know of all that was being done for them or against them. When I entered the Church I beheld a sight which made my heart glad. There was quite a large company present, and there were white and coloured reporters at the large table, all busy at work. To see coloured men at this table taking down coloured men's speeches in shorthand, just like white men, and white men taking down the speeches of coloured men in a deliberative assembly, was indeed a very gratifying sight to me. I had never seen the like before. The Chairman of the meeting said that any gentleman was at liberty to speak who so desired; this subject concerned every coloured man. I thought, now is my time. Each one who spoke commenced with, “Ladies and Gentlemen.” I listened attentively, but much was said that I could not understand. When some gentleman said something about the suffrage or the ballot-box, and the people clapped their hands, I clapped as lively and as heartily as anyone; yet what the ballot-box was I could not make out; as to the “suffrage” of the coloured man I was quite satisfied that I knew something of that subject, for I had “suffered” a good deal. I began to think of how I should commence my speech, and what I should say. It was every man's privilege to speak. When there came a lull in the meeting, my heart beat very fast, for I thought that now was my opportunity. But I must avoid repeating the formalities of the previous speakers. I sprang to my feet, but as I stood there before that company of people, many of whom were well educated, I trembled very much. I commenced: “M-i-s-t-e-r C-h-a-i-r-m-a-n, G-e-n—G-e-n-t-l-e-m-e-n a-and L-a—L-a-d-i-e-s.” Many clapped their hands and others laughed. All my good speech and fine words were gone. Then I gathered up all my strength for another effort, being not a little agitated on account of the laughing. When order was called and restored, then I proceeded: “I know what it is to suffer; I am one who suffered in Virginia” (Applause). This greatly helped me. My idea was that the delegate to congress was to tell how we suffered in slavery, and that the word “suffrage” meant that. “I quite agreed,” I continued, “with all that was said about the ballot-box,” feeling quite sure that they knew what was intended, and what that box was for, said: “I am willing to help to send Mr. Frederick Douglas to Washington—(applause)—and here is a dollar to help.” This provoked great approval, and there was much clapping of hands and shaking of heads, which meant to me that the audience was pleased. My name was called for and taken to the reporter's table.

After the meeting, the late Mr. Charles Reason introduced himself to me. This gentleman was well known in New York, and was a great friend of the young men; also several other leading coloured men came and heartily shook me by the hand—no one-or-two-finger grip, but a real hand-shake that made me feel that, though ignorant and illiterate, I was among friends who respected me. All this was of the providence of God, who had promised to be with me.

In time this very meeting resulted in an invitation to meet the Committee and to help in making arrangements to receive Mr. Frederick Douglas. When I was in the Army I heard the young master say of an officer in the South that he had “immortalised” himself. I was anxious to know what that big word meant. I never heard it before, so my young master explained that the officer had gained a great victory during a campaign. Well, when I returned home from that meeting I made use of the big word to my wife, and declared with solemn dignity: “I have 'mortalised myself to-night.” She said: “Tom don't tell anybody else that.” I said that I really 'mortalised myself, for I had made a speech, and then explained all about it, but I never again mentioned the matter in the same terms to anyone else. The next morning the New York Times, in speaking of the meeting, noted a “speech by an ex-slave from Richmond— T. L. Johnson.” This meeting was a great help to me, indicating more forcibly than ever the necessity for stricter attention to study. After this meeting, some young men, whom I met there and who seemed to be well-known, were very attentive to me, and finally invited me to a meeting to organise an “Industrial Association.” I attended; speeches were made, and great attention was paid to what I had to say. Finally, the question came up as to how much a share should be, and as to how many shares there ought to be; and it was suggested that twenty-five or thirty dollars would at once help the work, a room could be rented, etc., and could any gentleman advance the money? I was appealed to. All eyes were turned to me. I could not quite understand the business, so concluded to wait awhile. The meeting then adjourned, after arranging the time and place of another such meeting, in order to hear from me. Meantime I saw a Christian gentleman, who advised me to have nothing to do with the young men and their plans. I saw the hand of God in this, guiding me safely.

It was in 1866 that this happened, and I have not called the meeting or notified the committee since that time. The gentleman and his wife and children where I was engaged were most kind to me, but I found it impossible to pursue my studies while with them, and I wanted a situation where I could have opportunity at stated times to study the Bible and follow other matters so as to make progress in my preparation for the great work which was laid upon my heart.

This gentleman was very wealthy. He did not approve of my studying with any such purpose as I had in view, and offered as a counter inducement that if I would remain with him five years he would send to Cuba for tobacco and set me up in business for myself in New York to manufacture cigars. This was generous indeed; but when I began to reckon that it would require a long period of years to get established in business, the matter did not commend itself to me; so I did not remain with him more than six months, Good openings to make money were not what I was seeking. I confess to lack of discretion, but my one controlling thought was about preaching the Gospel to my own people, and not in making money.

At the close of the War the question to be met was— The destiny of the millions of coloured freedmen. “How did the freedmen manage to get on after the War?” is a frequent question. Just at that time our friends were perplexed to know what to do with us, liberated, as we were, without a penny to begin the new life. Thousands were homeless, and deprived of intellectual light and spiritual instruction, they were helplessly ignorant. But in the Northern States there were thousands of true-hearted Christians who, at the commencement of the War, had given their sons and millions of money, and true to freedom and the oppressed, these good people came to the front with their money, their time, their influence. Every branch of the Christian Church helped the poor freedmen. The Government established the Freedman's Bureau, of which General O. O. Howard was appointed superintendent. It furnished bread for the destitute, and found homes for the homeless, and established schools to instruct the ignorant. As doors of opportunity opened they went to work—thousands of them for their former masters, thousands for themselves; and many went into the Northern and Western States. Notwithstanding the prejudice which existed against them, and which still exists, to a great extent, at the present time, the coloured people have progressed in a measure unparalleled in the history of any race in similar circumstances. We find them to-day in every branch of industry, farmers, mechanics engineers, tradesmen, merchants, teachers, professors, doctors, lawyers; and some are occupying high positions in the Government institutions as clerks, mail agents, legislators, Members of Congress. But, above all, many who were once slaves have passed through colleges of the country and are now able ministers of the Gospel. The following will greatly help to show to sympathizers and friends of the Negro that he was worthy of all they did for him:—

“After the memorable Emancipation Proclamation by President Lincoln, and when recruiting officers were sent into every town and city wherever the United States troops had gained a footing, thousands of liberated slaves responded to the call and soon entered the Army; but they were not satisfied with being liberated, and engaged to fight for freedom, they desired to have mental training, and commenced at once to establish schools in camp in order to gain an education. Aside from the military duties required from the men forming the phalanx regiments, the school teacher was drilling and preparing them in the formation and use of letters and figures. In nearly every regiment a school was established during the encampments; and in some instances, female teachers from the North, impelled by the philanthropy which induced an army of teachers South to teach the freedmen, also brought them to the barracks and the camp ground to instruct the soldiers of the phalanx. Their ambition to learn to read and write was as strong as-their love for freedom, and no opportunity was lost by them to acquire a knowledge of letters. So ardent were they that they formed squads and hired teachers, paying them out of their pittance of seven dollars per month, or out of bounty paid to them by the State to which they were accredited. In a number of instances the officers themselves gave instructions to their commands, and made education a feature and a part of their duty, thereby bringing the soldier up to full comprehension of the responsibility of his trust. ‘Taps’ was an unpleasant sound to many a soldier, who, after the fatigue and drill of the day was over, sat himself down upon an empty cracker box with a short candle in one hand and a spelling book in the other, to study the ‘ab, eb, ib, ob, ub’; when the truce was sounded after a day's or night's hard fighting many of these men renewed their courage by studying and reading in the New England Spelling Book. And where they had fought, and died where they fell, and their bodies left to the enemy's mercy, they often found in the dead soldier's knapsack a spelling book and a Testament.”

Generally, there was one of three things the negro soldier could be found doing when at leisure— “Discussing religion,”“Cleaning his musket and accoutrements,” or“Trying to read.” See “History of the Black Phalanx,” p. 504.

And in the London Daily Express of January 13th, 1903, we read:—

“Uncle Sam's is an awkward problem, no doubt; but there is no getting away from the fact that he has accomplished a great deal for fitting himself for intellectual equality. Within the space of a generation the negro has reduced his illiteracy 45 per cent., and he has to-day over a million and a half children in daily attendance at the elementary schools, and 40,000 students at the higher institutions. Thirty thousand negro teachers help the expansion of the young blacks' minds; while equipping themselves in classical, scientific, and business courses are 3,400 students. Besides these are 17,000 graduates. Their libraries possess over a quarter of a million volumes. They have 500 physicians of their own, and 250 lawyers. Three banks, and as many magazines, and no fewer than 400 newspapers are under ‘black man’ management. Since the war of emancipation these people have raised over two million pounds sterling for their education, and among their hundred and fifty institutions for higher education are academies whose curriculum challenges c