Library of Congress Subject Headings, 21st edition, 1998

LC Subject Headings:

• Lowery, I. E. (Irving E.), b. 1850.
• African Americans -- South Carolina -- Sumter County -- Biography.
• African Americans -- South Carolina -- Social conditions.
• Slaves -- South Carolina -- Sumter County -- Biography.
• Slaves -- South Carolina -- Social conditions -- 19th century.
• Freedmen -- South Carolina -- Biography.
• South Carolina -- Social conditions -- 19th century.
• South Carolina -- Social conditions -- 20th century.
• South Carolina -- Social life and customs -- 19th century.
• South Carolina -- Social life and customs -- 20th century.
• United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865.
• Plantation life -- South Carolina -- Sumter County -- History $ y 19th century.
• Slavery -- South Carolina -- Sumter County -- History -- 19th century.
• Southern States -- Race relations -- History -- 20th centur

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THE AUTHOR

Life on the Old Plantation
in Ante-Bellum Days,
OR
A Story Based on Facts,

BY

REV. I. E. LOWERY

With Brief Sketches of the Author by the Late Rev. J.
Wofford White of the South Carolina Conference,
Methodist Episcopal Church
AND
An Appendix

Columbia, S.C.
THE STATE CO., PRINTERS
1911

Copyright, 1911
By
THE STATE COMPANY

                         "Backward, turn backward, O Time in your flight;
                         Make me a child again just for tonight."

MEMORIES.

CONTENTS

• BRIEF SKETCHES OF THE AUTHOR.
• CHAPTER I.
  THE OLD PLANTATION.
• CHAPTER II.
  THE PROPRIETOR OF THE OLD PLANTATION.
• CHAPTER III.
  GRANNY, THE COOK, ON THE OLD PLANTATION.
• CHAPTER IV.
  A 'POSSUM HUNT ON THE OLD PLANTATION.
• CHAPTER V.
  A WEDDING ON THE OLD PLANTATION.
• CHAPTER VI.
  CHRISTMAS ON THE OLD PLANTATION.
• CHAPTER VII.
  SUNDAY ON THE OLD PLANTATION,

  ---

  Page 6

• CHAPTER VIII.
  A FUNERAL ON THE OLD PLANTATION.
• CHAPTER IX.
  A LOG-ROLLING ON THE OLD PLANTATION.
• CHAPTER X.
  A CORN-SHUCKING ON THE OLD PLANTATION.
• CHAPTER XI.
  LITTLE JIMMIE, THE MAIL BOY, ON THE OLD PLANTATION.
• CHAPTER XII.
  A LOVE STORY ON THE OLD PLANTATION.
• CHAPTER XIII.
  THE BREAKING UP OF THE OLD PLANTATION.

PART SECOND
APPENDIX
SIGNS OF A BETTER DAY FOR THE
NEGRO IN THE SOUTH
By I. E. LOWERY

• I.
  INTRODUCTION.
• II.
  WHITE PATRONS OF NEGRO BUSINESS ENTERPRISES.
• III.
  WHITE CONTRIBUTORS TOWARD THE BUILDING OF NEGRO CHURCHES.
• IV.
  WHITE CONTRIBUTORS TOWARD THE BUILDING OF NEGRO CHURCHES.--Continued

  ---

  Page 8

• V.
  WHITE CONTRIBUTORS TOWARD THE BUILDING OF NEGRO SCHOOLS.
• VI.
  CURRENT INCIDENTS OF NEGRO INDUSTRIAL ACHIEVEMENTS.
• VII.
  FRIENDLY EXPRESSIONS OF SOUTHERN WHITE PEOPLE FOR THE NEGRO.
• VIII.
  FRIENDLY EXPRESSIONS OF SOUTHERN WHITE PEOPLE FOR THE NEGRO.--Continued.
• IX.
  THE WHITE PEOPLE'S CARE OF THE OLD BLACK MAMMIES.

PREFACE

        I have no apology to make, and no excuse to offer for writing this book--"Life on the Old Plantation in Ante-Bellum Days." It is not the result of vanity, neither is it a desire for notoriety, that prompted me to write it. No, my reasons are higher, and my purposes are nobler. My only desire has been to do good. The religious element runs through the entire story.

        It has been a work of faith and a labor of love to me. I cannot express the pleasure I have had in sitting down, and recalling the incidents of my childhood and youth. In doing so, it has enabled me to live my life over again. I only hope that the reader will experience something of the same pleasure in reading the book that I have had in writing it.

        The "Brief Sketches of the Author" were written just twenty years ago by the late Rev. J. Wofford White. He was a colored man, and a close friend of mine, and was born and reared in the same neighborhood with myself. These sketches were printed in The Christian Witness, a Boston (Mass.) newspaper, and were clipped and carefully pasted in my scrapbook. I republish them in this connection without changing a

single word. I would ask the reader to peruse them carefully, and compare them with Chapter XI, entitled "Little Jimmie, the Mail Boy," and note the similarity of characters.

        I have written this book because there is no other work in existence just like it. No author, white or colored, so far as I know, has traversed, or attempted to traverse, the literary path which I presume to have trodden in writing this book. We are now about forty-five years away from the last days of slavery and the first days of freedom, and the people who have any personal knowledge of those days are rapidly crossing the mystic river, and entering the land that knows no shadows; and soon, there will not be one left to tell the story. And it is the author's thought that a record of the better life of those days should be left for the good of the future generations of this beautiful southland. Others have written of the evil side of those days, but the author felt it to be his mission to write of the better side.

        Before the war, the relation that existed between the master and his slaves was, in most cases, one of tenderness and affection. There was a mutual attachment between them, which has commanded the admiration of the world. But since the war, an estrangement between the colored and the white races has sprung up, which

has resulted in a feeling of intense bitterness and alienation. But I am glad to say that things are now taking a turn for the better. I can see signs of a better day ahead; and if this book should, in any way, contribute to, and help on this much desired day, the author will be satisfied.

        I conclude this preface with the following clipping:

WANT TO HONOR OLD SLAVES.

        An appeal to erect a monument to the former slaves of the South was issued in New Orleans a few days ago from the headquarters of the United Confederate Veterans by Gen. George W. Gordon, commander-in-chief of the veterans.

        The appeal is in the form of a general order, which quotes the resolutions favoring such a monument adopted at the Birmingham reunion in 1908, and adds:

        "Only those familiar with the beautiful patriarchial life on the Southern plantations previous to 1865 know of the devotions of the slaves to their owners and the children of the family. They were raised more like members of a large household.

        "The children of the owners and the slaves associated most intimately together, and enjoyed alike the pleasure of the home, all receiving the care and attention of the heads of the family, who had a feeling of tender affections for these departments."

        The devotion of these slaves during war time in caring for the plantations, in sharing dangers at

the front and nursing the wounded is noted, and the order concludes with an appeal to the U. C. V., the U. D. C., the U. S. C. V., and the C. S. M. A., to see "that some evidence is given to the world of their appreciation of the faithfulness and affection of this devoted people."

I. E. LOWERY.

BRIEF SKETCHES OF THE AUTHOR.

I.

BY THE LATE REV. J. WOFFORD WHITE.

        When one has accomplished something of good for his fellowman, and performed work worthy of praise, people become interested not only in what he has done, but also in the history of the person himself. As fulsome praise is invidious, and heartless flattery no less damaging than unjust, we shall not make the mistake of committing the blunder of doing either, but shall state the facts as they exist.

        The Rev. Irving E. Lowery, A. M., was born in the County of Sumter, State of South Carolina, September 16th, 1850, and is, therefore, 37 years old. His parents were born slaves; it was in this condition, too, that he came into this world. His father lives today [He has since died--THE AUTHOR] at the ripe age of almost four-score years. He has been known always as a man of integrity, strict honesty, and possessed of much energy and industry, and withal a man of much natural ability. Long before the war, by economy and frugality, he had saved enough in hard-earned wages to purchase his own freedom. He succeeded also in purchasing the freedom of his

mother, and when Abraham Lincoln issued the famous Emancipation Proclamation he was making herculean efforts to purchase his wife. Under the new order of things, by dint of perseverance and hard labor by night as well as day, he managed with shrewdness to secure an excellent farm, and although today the hoar-frost of seventy-eight winters is clearly observable, he superintends his business, is observant of passing events, and takes a lively interest in the questions of the day. The mother has been noted always for her modesty, piety, and Christ-like demeanor. To her the children are indebted for all the home training they received that pertains to the Christian life.

        Years ago, when the subject of these sketches was a mere boy, this pious mother, without a dream of freedom, with faith in the God she served, prayed that He would call one of her sons to be a preacher of the Gospel, which then meant to be an exhorter or class-leader. "Only this and nothing more." Wonderful as mysterious are the ways of God! Long years afterward that mother's prayers were signally answered in a way wonderful to speak of--a way she could not have appreciated at the time the prayers were offered. It is an example worthy of being followed by all Christian parents, who should unfalteringly commit their children by

faith and prayer to the Lord. After they are dead, in answer to the prayers on behalf of their children, God will in some way bring about the desired results. How these prayers were answered will be related further on.

        Brother Lowery had better advantages than most of the boys on the plantation. Being of a lively, quick and sprightly disposition, his owner took him "into the house" when he was quite young. In the same room, on a little pallet, he slept with his master and wife. He made the fires in the early winter mornings, blew the signal at the break of day for the feeding of the horses and beginning the preparations for the labor of the day. As the master was a Methodist of the old-fashioned type common "in ye olden time," there was a family altar in that house, and this little slave boy was one who bowed at it in devotion. A little pony for his exclusive use to ride for mail and do errands, was furnished him. In going to the county-seat on business, or when visiting alone or with his family, this boy was invariably the companion of his master; thus he saw more than the other boys, came in contact with more people, obtained a better knowledge of men and things, and as a result, he became more observant, more inquisitive, and more intelligent. Thus, even in a condition of abject thralldom, God was making the wrath of men to praise

Him by causing them thus to sow the seeds of usefulness in the heart of one whom He determined, in answer to the prayers of a pious mother, to lead into paths of holiness, usefulness and peace, and to become a preacher of the Gospel of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. As to church privileges, he had but few, although the best of such as were allowed slaves. Anon he was permitted to go to public service at the church, but more frequently the slaves were gathered together in old master's yard, and some exhorter or leader was allowed to come, under the surveillance of a white man, lest something insurrectionary be said--and conduct a service of prayer and praise.

        As this was the limit of their liberty to worship, it is not to be wondered at that they entered into their services with a zeal and fervency, and to this day it is said of the negro that they pray more, and naturally sing better, than any other race. We say nothing of slavery, since it is accursed of God and man, but even with the best possible circumstances under such a condition and environment, no one could become efficient and useful in the highest sense of the term. That system had no elements to draw out the best in any one, be he master or slave. It was calculated to bring out the worst in both, and develop it to an unlimited degree. This proved to be the

invariable result. True, many were saved, and we know of many good people that lived in those days, but it must be remembered that God's love is so far-reaching that it accomplishes what is impossible to man. Of itself, what did slavery do for any? What did it do for our brother? Absolutely nothing. Dear readers, when the morning of January first, 1863, dawned upon this fair but then blighted land, and the first ray of hope--the Proclamation of Emancipation-- burst forth from a leaden sky, he who has ere this become a familiar name in your household, had not learned his alphabet, was in blissful ignorance of his high calling, had dreamed naught else than a life of slavery; in this condition because of his training from infancy, he was contented to live, and worse than all, he had not tasted of Jesus's blood that purifies our sinful hearts.

BRIEF SKETCHES OF THE AUTHOR.

II.

        More than two years passed after that immortal document had been made public. Not till the South had stacked arms at Appomattox, and agents of the Government sent to every plantation to effect a legal contract between master

and slaves, did the great mass of negroes learn that they were indeed freed men. When this was thoroughly understood, old men and women jumped for joy, young men and maidens clapped their hands and shouted. The old masters submitted, apparently, to the new order of things. When the agent came around, Brother Lowery was then a boy in his teens, and he signed the contract to remain that year.

        He continued, till one day he was approached by his old master's son with a whip in one hand and a gun in the other. Without any provocation, he began to thrash the servants unmercifully. Seeing that his turn would soon come, he said to a companion, older than himself, "I will not stand this; I will go to Sumter and complain to the Provost Marshal." He leaped over the fence, and into the dense forest ran, followed by the friend referred to. Night was fast approaching; they wandered and traveled through swamps, and waded branches, till, after a ramble of fifteen miles, they got to the railroad that runs by the county-seat. Here they stopped to rest, as it was late at night, with the damp earth for a bed and the heavens for a covering. When the sun arose they aroused themselves, and shivering with cold, affrighted and hungry, they hurried toward their destination, about twenty miles away. They reached the place, inquired their

way to the proper office, and were ushered into the presence of the Provost Marshal. Their complaint in simple language was made.

        This was Brother Lowery's first public address, which was a statement of the grievances he had been made to suffer. After he had finished the reaction came, and the untutored youth melted into tears. The redress he sought was granted in part. A writ from this office turned him over to the custody of his father. With him, on a rented farm, he labored. At the end of that year the family was all reunited. In the year 1866, through the philanthropy of an educational society of New England, a free school, the first ever opened in that community for negroes, began its session. At the age of sixteen he was entered by his father and began the arduous task of mastering the alphabet after the manner pursued by teachers in ye olden time. He readily took to learning, and very soon was reading. His hunger for knowledge became intense. His father, according to his training, thought that work stood first in importance, and schooling was something to attend when farm work was over. This doctrine was very distasteful to one who had begun to drink from the fount of knowledge, so he ran away from his father, hired his time to work on the railroad; but the father, with an eye to business, waited

patiently till the month was ended, was promptly on hand when the pay-train arrived and claimed the wages of his son--he being a minor. When the youth realized that thus it would be at the end of each succeeding month, he willingly returned to the home of his father.

        The father, recognizing the exceeding anxiousness of the son to become educated, concluded to send him to school. As this stage marks the most important change in his life, pardon a little digression.

        In 1865 the Rev. Timothy W. Lewis was sent to South Carolina to reorganize the Methodist Episcopal Church. He was soon strengthened by the Rev. A. Webster, D. D., recently deceased. Baker's Institute was established in Charleston for the training of young men for the ministry. One of the first to enter it was a brother full of zeal and the Holy Ghost. This brother belonged to the same community wherein lived Brother Lowery, and was widely known for his piety, having managed, with great secrecy, to obtain a fair knowledge of English branches. He spent one year at this institute. As the field was white and but few laborers, he was sent out to gather the people and assist in the organization of the church. This brother swayed great influence over the old, and especially the young. Among

the young men who frequented the church under his ministry was the subject of our sketch.

        Just about the time his father concluded to give every available advantage to enable him to prosecute his studies, he was happily converted under the pastorate of the sainted Joseph White, the brother referred to above. He joined the Methodist Episcopal Church in the year 1867. His conversion was sound and thorough, and although he hesitated to obey, he felt the irresistible call of God to preach the gospel of His Son. Thus the mother's prayers offered years before, when her son was a boy, were most singularly answered in the conversion of this son, and his being called to the ministry. He was licensed to exhort in the year 1868, and as the way was opened, he was directed by his pastor to Baker's Institute, which he entered and remained two years--1868 and 1869. He was the first student that registered at Claflin University. This was October, 1869.

        There he continued till the latter part of 1870. In December of that year he was made a local preacher, joined the South Carolina Conference, was ordained deacon by Bishop Simpson and stationed by him at Cheraw. He remained there two years; he was then, at the beginning of 1873, sent to Columbia, where he remained till August. He then went to Wilbraham, Mass., to complete

education in the Wesleyan Academy, then under the presidency of Rev. Dr. Cooke. In the spring of 1874 he completely broke down in health and was forced to return home for the year. Influences, strong and powerful, were brought forward to induce him to enter politics. He was offered the nomination for School Commissioner, then equivalent to an election. Although the temptation was seductive, the inducements great and offers flattering, he turned neither to the right nor the left. He commanded Satan to get behind him, and he was obeyed, for the weakest Christian is stronger than the devil, because God dwelleth in him. Until the meeting of the Conference in January, 1875, he taught school in Sumter and was principal of the high school. It was here that he met the young lady who afterward became his wife. She is of noble and pious parentage, well educated, and, from peculiar advantages, was reared in the best colored society and influences in Charleston. It is a blessed union to both, and much of Brother Lowery's success in the ministry is due to the industry, energy and helpfulness of his wife. Five children enliven the interest of their home life, and they are carefully instructed in the way of life by their parents. Theirs is a model, Christian home, where the family Bible occupies a conspicuous place, and

wherein is an altar erected to the Lord of Hosts, around which, twice a day--morning and evening --the family gather for worship, prayer and praise.

BRIEF SKETCHES OF THE AUTHOR.

III.

        Rev. I. E. Lowery commenced again his active work in the ministry in the year 1875, soon after his return from Wesleyan Academy. He was appointed to Summerville by Bishop Wiley, an appointment high in grade, both because of the intelligence of the local membership and of its proximity to Charleston, many of whose best citizens, both white and colored, own homes and spend the summer there. With satisfaction to the people he remained there two years, and was by Bishop Harris appointed to the station of Greenville, with a membership of about 700, whose acquirements socially, intellectually and religiously are equal to that of any membership of any community or city in the State.

        Soon after this young brother's arrival at his new field of labor he discovered that the people he was to serve were not only religious, but were Christians of a very pronounced and advanced type, many of whom were blessed with the grace

of sanctification. Such openly professed, and, better still, lived it.

        The Rev. True Whittier is one of the noble band of Christian missionaries that came to the South after the war. He was zealous for the Master. He preached sanctification all over the upper part of the State, where he served as presiding elder, and as a result numbers sought till they found full peace and cleansing of heart.

        Greenville, of which we now write, was the principal hot-bed of this phase of Christian experience. Many here had enjoyed this fullness long before Brother Whittier's time, but they did not proclaim it as a distinct blessing. It is possible that they knew it not. He preached it, it was believed and many experienced it. This was the condition of the church when Brother Lowery took charge. He had not up to this time given much thought to this subject. Now he was made to face it. What could he do with a membership largely in advance of him in Christian experience? You can imagine the answer to such an inquiry more easily than it can be given. What did he do? He did what all ought to do who have not yet received it. Confessed his lack in that experience, earnestly solicited the prayers of the faithful, sought by meditation, prayer and faith until he found to his joy the blessed experience of sanctification, a second, separate and

distinctly different blessing to that experienced in regeneration. He began then to preach as never before. His pulpit efforts were filled with a holy unction. Hitherto he had with all faithfulness preached the gospel, but now he preached a full gospel. While he does not make the subject a specialty, yet he hesitates not in claiming it as his own experience, and proclaiming the necessity of this experience not only to complete that of all Christians, but until it is sought and found the whole duty is not performed, requirements of spiritual life are not met, the danger line still in sight, and indeed not passed; for sanctification means, if anything, not only the pardon of sins, assurance and the other divine evidences of acceptance; it includes also the idea of the change in our nature of a proneness, inclination or natural bent to do evil, to a proneness or natural bent in us to do that only which pleases God. From the time of his experience of sanctification he has been, and is today, a different preacher altogether. The change is almost as marked between sanctification and regeneration as that between the highest type of moral living and regeneration. For three full years to an ever-increasing congregation and membership, he acceptably served the church at Greenville. It was with greatest reluctance that the people gave him up.

        By Bishop Simpson, in the year 1880, he was appointed to Wesley, one of the three important stations in the city of Charleston. Under him the membership grew rapidly. Here he remained three years, full of labors for the Master, and when he was moved by expiration of the time-limit, he carried with him the good wishes of the membership of the church he had served so faithfully and well. Recently he visited Charleston, and as an illustration of the hold he has on the people, the church was crowded to overflowing to hear his sermons, and by careful computation 1,200 came to hear his lecture, "The Twenty Years' Progress of the Colored Race." Bishop Merrill then appointed him to Cheraw, his first appointment--an illustration of the theory of the eternal cycle that brings things back to the same condition of former times. The people were jubilant over the appointment. They received their old pastor with open hearts. Here he remained three years. Here he was again wonderfully blessed of the Lord. The charge prospered beyond that of any administration since he had left there years before. Here he and his family were bereaved of the favorite of the house--a bright 2-year-old boy--who departed this life and took up residence in Zion, city of our God. How this bereavement tried their souls! Other than prayerful meditation and

resignation, two incidents were providentially sent as solaces. One in the person of the minister who conducted the burial services, who selected as a text these beautiful words, "My Beloved is Gone Down Into His Garden to Gather Lilies"--Song of Solomon. Such suggestive words were to them fraught with the fragrance of heaven. Ever after, in thinking of their little boy, these words loom uppermost in their minds. The other was from the pen of Bishop Foster, while on the Red Sea, homeward bound. When as a picture there loomed up before him all of his life's work and experience as a minister, he portrayed in graphic style his trials, struggles and the loss of a child, the first of that kind experienced by the young itinerant (himself), etc., which was almost an exact representation of the feelings and experiences of this family. To them this article was a message of condolence divinely sent. After serving a full Methodistic term here, he was appointed by Bishop Andrews to his present place of labor, Aiken, S. C., which, because of the peculiar circumstances surrounding it, is the most important appointment, in the Conference at the present time.

        Brother Lowery is tall and of commanding appearance. Suave in manner, quiet in disposition and devotional. His sermons are models of

pulpit preparation. His style is more of the exposito-textual than that of the topical. He throws his whole soul into the delivery of a sermon, and not unfrequently somebody is either converted or so deeply impressed that conversion follows as a result of his powerful appeals.

        In recent years he has developed taste of a literary nature. His papers in the columns of The Witness are widely read, and the readers of that journal have formed their own opinions as to their merits.

        Twice has he been named as anniversary orator at Claflin University, and twice he has honored the occasion by efforts that surpassed even the expectations of his friends. He never sought nor desired it, yet the university has honored itself by conferring the degree A. M. upon him. If a degree is a recognition of worth, then it has been worthily bestowed in this instance. He is, however, that same modest, unassuming preacher of the gospel.

        As a writer, he is painstaking, careful, scrutinizing. As a student, he is methodical, discriminating, industrious. As a preacher, he is forcible, logical, convincing. As a worker, he is indefatigable, energetic, pushing. As a financier, he is successful and skillful. As a Christian, he is sympathetic, consistent and spiritually-minded. God helping, we predict for him a career of usefulness to the church, his fellow men and the cause of Christ.

CHAPTER I.

THE OLD PLANTATION.

        At a point about eight miles southeast of Mayesville, S. C., and about the same distance southwest of Lynchburg, is a settlement known as "Shiloh." There was a church located there which was called "the Shiloh Church"; hence the settlement took its name from the church. It was a Methodist Church, and belonged to that denomination known as the Methodist Episcopal Church, South. Not far from the church was a store owned by a man whose name was Chris. Player. Mr. Player kept the postoffice, and here the planters for miles around got their mail. It was a convenient place for a church and also for the store and postoffice, for they were located near where the public road forked at two places.

        Just about two miles from this church, due north across the swamp, called Pudden Swamp, was the plantation which forms the scene of my story. I do not know the number of acres this farm contained (that is a matter of little consequence any way), but suffice it to say that it was a good sized plantation.

        But how shall I begin to describe this wonderful old plantation? As I write the scene comes

fresh before my vision. I imagine I can see the old farm house, where the white folks lived, nestled in the midst of a clump of stately old water oaks. There was a front and back piazza and there was a brick chimney at each end. It was a one-story building, with an ell running back, in which was located the dining room. About thirty feet east of the building was the kitchen, and about the same distance in the rear of the dining room stood the smoke-house and the store-room. That smoke-house was never without meat and lard, and that store-room contained barrels of flour, barrels of sugar, barrels of molasses and sacks of coffee from one year to another. And the corn, oh, there was no end to that. There were several barns, some big and some little, but when the corn was gathered and the "corn-shucking" was over and the crop was housed, the barns were full to overflowing. They would remind one of Pharaoh's barns in Egypt at the end of the seven years of plenty. There was very little cotton raised on that plantation in those days. Four or six bales were considered a good crop. But the corn, peas, potatoes, hogs, cattle, sheep and goats, there was no end to these. It was a rare thing to buy anything to eat on that plantation save sugar and coffee. Shoes were bought, but the clothing for the white folks and the slaves was made at home. It was

the good old "homespun." On rainy days, when it was too wet to do outdoor work, the men and boys got out corn, as they said in plantation language, for the mill, while the women and girls carded and spun cotton and wool. A task of so many hanks of yarn was given them for a day's work, which was a reasonable task, and when it was finished they carded and spun for themselves. They more or less completed their tasks before night, and by working after night they were enabled to do almost as much for themselves as they did for the white folks during the day. The weaving was almost invariably done by the young white ladies, or by some one of the servant girls who was taught especially to do it. Thus everybody on the place was kept well clothed, both the white folks and the slaves. That which the slave women carded and spun at night was their own, and they usually hired their young missus, or some other white woman of the neighborhood, to weave it into cloth for them, and thus they always had good, clean clothing for Sunday wear, so that they could go to "meetin' " without embarrassment.

        On the east side of the white folks' house was the orchard. It occupied a space of about five or six acres and contained a large number of fruit trees of every description. There could be found the apple in variety, the peach, the pear,

the apricot and the plum. On the west side was a large vegetable garden, which contained, in addition to the supply of vegetables for the table, several varieties of grapes. The arbors built for these grapes were large, strong and, well cared for. And the slaves got their portion of all these delicious fruits. Of course, they were not allowed to steal them (but this does not signify that they never resorted to this method of obtaining fruit), but they could, and did, get fruit by asking for it.

        At some distance in the rear of the white folks' house stood the barns and other outhouses, and a little to the east of these was the large horse and cow lot and the stables. In front was a beautiful avenue skirted on each side with lovely oaks of different varieties. And, strange to say, about three hundred yards in front of the white folks' house, and to the east of this beautiful avenue, was located the "negro quarters." On most plantations in those days the "negro quarters" was located in the rear, or at least some distance from the white folks' house. But not so in this case, for these were located in front, but a little distance from the house and from the avenue. But there is another thing that goes to show that the owners and managers of this plantation were people of education, culture and refinement, and that was even the fields were

given names. At some distance eastward from the "big house" was a large field called "Sykes field." In the midst of this field stood a large and beautiful walnut tree. It was customary to plant wheat, oats or rye in this field, and when the crop was harvested, which usually took place in June, the field was then made a pasture. Every field of the plantation had a good fence around it, and after the crops were taken off the horses, cattle and sheep were turned in. It was a charming sight to see these creatures during the early morning grazing in different parts of the "Sykes field," and when the sun waxed hot they would gather themselves together and lie down under this tree and rest. And in the cool of the afternoon they would start out again. This was repeated day by day during the summer season. Still east of the "Sykes field," and across the swamp, were two large fields called the upper and lower "Forks." North of these was another called the "Island field." Then there were the "New Ground field," the "Gin House field," the "Middle field," the "Graveyard field" and the "West field." It was necessary that these fields should all have names so that it could be ascertained where the hands were working, or where the horses or cows were being pastured.

        There were six horses and two mules on the place, and they, too, all had names. There was

"Old Reuben," "Old Gray," "Old Lep," "Fannie," "John" and "Charlie." John and Charlie were young horses raised on the place. The mules were "Jack" and "Ginnie." Jack was a noble fellow, but Ginnie was as wicked as she could be. She had as many devils in her as did Mary Magdalene before she met Christ. Ginnie did very well when hitched to the wagon with Jack or some other horse by her side, but under the saddle she would not carry double to save your life. And pull a plow, that depended on the state of her mind. If she felt like it she would do it, but if she did not she would kick things to pieces in a jiffy. When that mule was foaled she was as good as it is possible for a mule to be, but the negro who plowed her spoilt her. And if Ginnie had been granted the gift of speech as was the good fortune of Balaam's ass, she doubtless would have said to that negro and to the rest of mankind in the language of Shakespeare: "Villainous company hath been the spoil of me."

        It will be noticed that the word "old" precedes the names of these horses. This does not signify that they were naturally old, but it was simply a designation given to them by the slaves, and the white folks accepted it and so styled the horses also. The slaves were adepts at giving nicknames to animals, to each other and even to

the white folks. But the white folks seldom caught on to the nicknames given to them.

        I cannot close this chapter without speaking of the adjoining plantations. To the north was Mr. Isaac Keels and his father, Mr. Billie Keels; east was Mr. Alex. Lemons; south was Mr. Chris. Player, and west was Mr. Fullwood and Mr. Jack Player. The latter was a brother of Mr. Chris. Player. These all were slaveholders, but none of them were cruel to their slaves. They knew that the slaves were valuable property, and, therefore, took good care of them. Mr. Fullwood died, leaving a widow and a number of small children, and the estate could not be settled-up until the youngest child became of age. This made it necessary to put the plantation in the hands of an overseer, and that overseer was Mr. Rance Player, a brother of Mr. Chris. Player and Jack Player. He was pretty strict in his discipline, but not cruel. Such things as bloodhounds and nigger traders were scarce in that community. I will not say that they were never seen, but they were scarce. It was a rare thing for slaves to be bought and sold in that neighborhood.

        I quote a couple of verses from "Lyrics of Love," by Rev. Charles Roundtree Dinkins, a negro poet. The book was published by The State Publishing Company of Columbia, S. C.:

                         "Give me the farm, where grows the corn,
                         Shouting with tassel gold unworn,
                         While breezes roll;
                         Where smiles the fleecy staple, white,
                         Like snowy fields of Eden bright
                         Around the soul.

                         "Give me the farm--the cabin dear,
                         With the fireplace so spacious there--
                         Full five feet wide--
                         With the backlog just burning down,
                         Potatoes sweet and 'possum brown
                         Right by my side."

CHAPTER II.

THE PROPRIETOR OF THE OLD PLANTATION.

        The owner of this farm was a remarkable character. His name was Mr. John Frierson, but he was called by his intimate friends "Jack Frierson." There was another John Frierson, who lived in the upper part of Sumter County, but this one was sometimes alluded to as "John Frierson on Pudden Swamp," to distinguish him from the other Mr. John Frierson. His age I do not know, but he lived to be quite an old man.

        He was a Christian and was, perhaps, the leading man in the Shiloh Methodist Church. I am told that he was educated for the Christian ministry in early life, but he never entered that holy calling. But he became a class leader, and this was the only sacred office he would accept, and he filled it well and to the satisfaction of the ministers and the members of the Shiloh Church. It was said that he was the best educated man in all that region of country. He was a very fine elocutionist and one of the best readers that ever opened a book or held a newspaper. During the exciting times that led up to the War Between the States, and during the four years of that bloody struggle, the white neighbors--and many

of them were men and women of wealth and intelligence--used to come to the home of Mr. Frierson to hear him read the papers and to discuss with him the news and the burning questions of that day.

        Mr. Frierson was married three times. By his first wife there was born but one child--a boy--whom he named Mack; by his second wife there were born five children--three girls and two boys, and by his last wife there was no issue. The children by his second wife were named as follows: Mary Ann, Isabella, Rush, Adolphus and Janie. I have given them in the order of their birth, as I remember it. These all grew up to manhood and womanhood. The following lived to be married off: Mack, Isabella, Adolphus and Janie.

        Mr. Mack married a lady from Chesterfield County whose maiden name was Miss Martha Garland. Her father's name was Mr. Jesse Garland. He was a farmer, owned a few slaves, but his daughter--Miss Martha--was handsome and considered a belle in society. Miss Isabella married Mr. Ransom Garland, the brother of Miss Martha. Mr. Adolphus married the daughter of Mr. Billie Keels, known as "Little Billie Keels." Miss Janie married a Mr. Kirby and afterwards settled in Columbia, S. C., as I have been informed. I also learned that she has some sons,

and possibly grandsons living there now, and are merchants in that city. Miss Mary Ann never married, but lived to be a very pious and happy old maid. She became housekeeper for her father after the death of her mother and until he married again, which was his third and last marriage. Her own mother was a very devout Christian, and spared no pains in training up her children in the way they should go, so that when they became old they did not depart from it.

        Mr. Rush grew up to a beautiful young manhood and became quite a favorite among the young ladies of the community, but the war broke out and there was a call for volunteers, and he was among the first to enter the Confederate army. His leaving the old plantation to go to the front was a sad occasion. Well do I remember the morning. The handsome young soldier in a beautiful new uniform of gray with shining buttons bade the family and servants good-bye, never to return. In less than two years he fell on one of the battlefields of Virginia, and sacrificed his life for the cause that is so dear to every Southern white man. When the news of his death reached the old plantation there was mourning and weeping among the white folks and the slaves. He was a good young man, and was much beloved by all. His body was never

brought home, but was buried in that far-off land along with his comrades in battle. But he was a Christian, having been brought up in a religious atmosphere, and by devout parents, and, on the other side of the mystic river, he has met them, where peace forever abides and where happiness is the lot of all such.

                         "Asleep in Jesus! far from thee
                         Thy kindred and their graves may be;
                         But thine is still a blessed sleep,
                         From which none ever wakes to weep."

        Mr. Mack, the oldest son, was also a devout young man. Like Jacob of old, he was a man of prayer. There was a place in the thicket in the rear of the lot where he resorted for private communion with his Maker every evening at twilight. When the day's work was done, and when the horses and mules were stabled and fed, he would steal away to his sacred retreat and pour out his soul in prayer. Many were the times when the writer of these lines, then a boy of twelve, stood in the road just a short distance away from his place of prayer, when the stars were being revealed in the heavens and the crimson gradually fading away from the sunset skies, and listened alternately to the plaintive sounds of the whippoorwill and the audible voice of prayer, which was tremulous with emotion and frequently

accompanied with tears. The scene was awe-inspiring to the inquiring mind and to the reverent soul, such as mine was at that time. I must confess that I scarcely knew what it all meant. But I sure did love to hear Mr. Mack pray and the whippoorwill hollo. But, thank God, I have lived long enough to know what prayer means.

        But let us consider our subject a little further. Mr. Frierson invariably observed family worship twice a day--morning and evening. The Scriptures were read in course at each service. Singing was usually omitted except on special occasions, when perhaps there was a minister present, one who could sing. But he was never in such a hurry that he did not have time for family devotions. It mattered not in what season of the year and how busy they might be in the farm, his prayers he would say. And it was always a treat to hear that man read his Bible and then to take the different members of his family to a throne of grace. And his slaves were not forgotten during these warm, fervent and eloquent intercessary prayers.

        Mr. Frierson always looked carefully after the morals of his slaves. I have already stated that he did not allow them to steal if he could possibly prevent it. He did everything he could to teach them to be truthful, to be honest, and to

be morally upright. He had it understood on his plantation that there should be no little bastard slaves there. He gave it out that they were not wanted. When the boys and girls reached a marriageable age he advised them to marry, but marry some one on the plantation, and he would see to it that they should not be separated. But if they married some one from the adjoining plantations, they might be separated eventually by the "nigger traders," as they were called in that day and time. But Mr. Frierson was never known to separate a man and his wife by sale or by trading. Nor was he ever known to separate mother and child. He did not believe in this kind of business.

        Mr. Frierson was a good man and taught both his children and servants to fear God and keep His commandments. The Lord said of Abraham, "For I know him that he will command his children and his household after him, and they shall keep the way of the Lord, to do justice and judgment." These words may fitly be applied to our subject--Mr. Frierson--for he certainly emulated the example of the Father of the faithful.

        There were some free colored people in the neighborhood. Some of these were free-born, but others bought their freedom. But all of them, according to the then existing laws, had to have some white man to be their guardian.

That is, some white man to look after their interest to see that they got their rights, and to protect them, if necessary. And Mr. Frierson was chosen by some of these free colored people as their guardian. He was a kind-hearted man and never failed to respond to the call of distress. It mattered not whether it came from the poor slave or from the more fortunate freeman or from the oppressed white brother, he had an ear to hear the call, a heart to respond and hands to help. As Alfred Tennyson said of the Duke of Wellington, so I say of our subject: "The path of duty was the way to glory."

        He seemed not to care what men thought of him, but his whole aim was to please his Maker. He regarded the voice of conscience as the voice of God, and to the warnings and mandates of that voice he was always true. He was greatly beloved by all his neighbors. His children, his slaves and all his white associates loved and admired him. And when time shall be lost in the brilliant dawn of eternity's morning, many shall rise up and call him blessed.

                         "Asleep! asleep! when soft and low
                         The patient watchers come and go,
                         Their loving vigil keeping;
                         When from the dear eves fades the light,
                         And the glad spirit takes its flight,
                         We speak of death as 'sleeping.'

                         "Or when, as dies the orb of day,
                         The aged Christian sinks away,
                         And the lone mourner weepeth;
                         When thus the pilgrim goes to rest,
                         With meek hands folded on his breast,
                         And his last sigh a prayer confessed--
                         We say of such, 'He sleepeth.' "

Lucy A. BENNETT.

CHAPTER III.

GRANNY, THE COOK, ON THE OLD PLANTATION.

        The number that constituted the body of slaves on this plantation was not very large, but they were a fine-looking set of human beings. They were warmly clad, well fed and humanely treated. And, as forty-two years have passed since "the breaking up of the old plantation," it is hardly possible that the writer should remember the name of every slave born and raised on that place. And yet he can recall the most of them and the image of their person still yet lingers in his memory.

        Here they are: There were Uncle Fridie and Aunt Nancy, his wife; Uncle Isom and Aunt Tena, his spouse. There were two young women on the plantation--Namie and Peggie--who, after marriage, became very fruitful. Namie married a man by the name of Tom and Peggie a man by the name of Sam. Tom belonged to a Mr. Durant, and Sam to a Mr. Singletary. Namie became the mother of some nine children and Peggie some twelve or thirteen. Namie's children were Melton, Sam, Nellie, Tom, Kellie, Jimmie, Vinie, Martha and Joe. Peggie's were Prince, Caroline, Sydney, Mary, Henry, Elizabeth,

Aleck, Sammie and four or five others whose names I cannot now recall. Nearly all of these grew up to manhood and womanhood and marired off, and themselves became fathers and mothers. And when the Emancipation Proclamation was issued by Mr. Lincoln, there were perhaps forty or fifty slaves on this plantation.

        But one of the most important characters among them all was Granny, the cook. She was slightly lame in one leg. When she was a little girl she and other children were playing in a bed of deep sand. She ran and jumped into the sand, and as her feet sunk into it she suddenly turned around and this twisted her leg at the knee. The injury at first did not seem to be serious and no doctor was called, but her leg grew crooked and she became lame for life. Because of this lameness she was favored to the extent that she was not made a field hand, but was kept about the house and taught to cook. And right well did she learn her trade; for she became one of the most expert cooks in all that region of country. And she took special pride in her profession, especially when company came to visit the white folks. All they had to do was to give Granny the materials and tell her what to do with them, and it was done. She always carefully followed the instructions given by Mrs. Frierson or Miss Mary Ann, and all was right. When that breakfast,

that dinner or that supper was sent into the dining room, especially when company was "in the house," if the reader had been privileged to look upon it, or to sniff its delicious odor, he would have thought that there was a Parisian caterer who presided over that kitchen.

        Mr. Frierson's house was the preacher's home. Like the Shunammite of old, he set apart a room in his house and denominated it the "Prophet's chamber." He never forgot to entertain strangers, knowing that thereby some had entertained angels unawares. Among the preachers who served the Lynchburg circuit were: Rev. L. M. Little, Rev. M. A. Connolly, Rev. W. L. Pegues, Rev. W. W. Mood, Rev. P. F. Kistler, and Rev. F. Auld. These were all members of the South Carolina Conference of the M. E. Church, South. There were two eminent local preachers who preached acceptably to the people, namely: Rev. Jesse Smith and Rev. William Smith. These two ministers were brothers, and the latter, Rev. William Smith, was the father of three distinguished Carolinians, namely: the late Bishop A. Coke Smith, Rev. Charles B. Smith, and the Hon. E. D. Smith. But whenever these ministers would preach at the Shiloh church they would invariably come to Mr. Frierson's either for dinner or to pass the night. And when Granny, the cook, was notified that the pastor was

coming, she would be delighted and made extensive preparations in the kitchen and did her best. All of Mr. Frierson's guests soon learned who the cook was, and seldom failed to give expressions of satisfaction when they left the dining room. Because of Granny's skill, Mr. Frierson did not have much trouble in persuading his pastors and friends to accept the hospitality of his home.

        Granny could not be excelled in making and baking bread. Her biscuits, her light bread and her johnnie cakes were, to use a modern expression, "just out of sight." Reader, do you know what a "johnnie cake" is? I am afraid that you don't. If you have never inhaled the odor nor tasted a johnnie cake I am sure I shall have some difficulty in making you understand what it is. It was not baked in an oven nor in a stove, but before the fire.

        A board was made out of oak, hickory or ash wood. It was about six inches wide and twelve inches long, and highly polished. The ingredients of the johnnie cake were: corn meal and sweet potatoes for flour, butter for lard and pure sweet milk for water. I think eggs were also used and some other seasoning, which I cannot now recall. These things were carefully mixed in and then the dough was spread out over the johnnie cake board and placed on the hearth before an oak fire. The board was slightly tilted so as to

throw the cake squarely before the fire. It would soon "brown," as they said, and when Granny pronounced it done, the very sight, to say nothing of the odor, would make anybody's mouth water. Oh, how those preachers did like johnnie cake! Sometimes they would send for Granny to come into "the house" and shake her hand and congratulate this dusky queen of the kitchen.

        It is said that women have a horror for snakes, and it is true. Ever since Mother Eve was beguiled by a serpent, all of her daughters--it matters not what their color may be, whether white, black or brown--have an awful dread of snakes. This intense hatred of the serpent tribe on the part of the women is of divine origin. In the Book it is written: "I will put enmity between thee and the woman and between thy seed and her seed; it shall bruise thy head and thou shalt bruise his heel." Thus spake the Lord to the serpent in the Garden of Eden.

        But I want to tell the reader a story about Granny and the snake. The kitchen where Granny did the cooking was a small board building that set some distance from the dining room. It was about fifteen feet wide by twenty feet long. It had two doors--the doors being in the sides and opposite each other--and two windows. The building was unceiled. It was a

mere shell. There was not even a loft overhead. This made it a den for rats, and, in consequence of this, a place for snakes. The rats came in search of food and the snakes came in search of rats.

        One evening just about dark Granny was getting supper, and while stooping down at the fire-place a great big chicken snake was chasing a rat on the plate above. They turned the corner and while passing over the fireplace where Granny was stooping, the snake fell full length across her neck and instantly wrapped itself around her neck. It is needless to say that Granny alarmed the place. She hollered, she screamed; the dogs barked and the children cried. The white folks and the colored folks all came running to see what was the matter. Granny left the kitchen and took the yard, and the yard was a very large one, too. Doubtless the snake would have fled from fright, but Granny clutched it with both hands--one hand on each side of her neck. The men folks could not catch her to release her from the snake until she fainted, then they killed the snake and Granny soon came to. She was not bitten but greatly frightened. The white women had to finish getting the supper, while Granny tried to get herself together again, which she eventually succeeded in doing. But this was an experience

which Granny never forgot. In subsequent years she used to sit down with a dozen or more children at her feet and relate to them, in graphic language, her experience with that old chicken snake. And oh, how the little ones used to ply her with questions! But she answered all of them to their satisfaction.

        But Granny was great along other lines and for other things than that of cooking. It has already been stated that when Mr. Frierson lost his first wife she left a little motherless baby behind. It was a little boy, and his name was Mack. But Granny came to the child's rescue and acted a mother's part. She raised him. She prepared his food and fed him. She bathed him, dressed him, took him on her lap, tied his shoes, combed his hair and taught him his prayers. He slept in Granny's own bed with his lily white arms around her black neck. Little Mack loved Granny and Granny loved little Mack. And when he became a man he always entertained a high regard for her, and loved her to the end. Granny, though she was black, considered herself the mistress on that plantation. She thought that her color was no fault of hers, but circumstances (part of the time Mr. Frierson having no wife) and efficiency, made her head of the household. When Granny gave orders those

orders had to be obeyed. White and colored respected and obeyed her.

        Granny took great delight in caring for the chickens and the turkeys. She also gave the pigs about the yard some attention. All the waste from the kitchen was carefully saved for them. She saw that the cows were milked regularly. She kept the milk piggins and pans clean and nice, and did the churning herself. Consequently Mr. Frierson always had a plenty of fatted fowls for his table and a pig to roast whenever he felt like it. He also had an abundance of nice milk and butter. Granny took special pride in providing these things, and her master felt grateful to her for it.

        Granny lived to see Emancipation, and, after becoming free, was taken by her son-in-law to his own hired home, where she was tenderly cared for until the angels came and escorted her soul home to that "happy land far, far away." She lived the life of the righteous, and died in the Christian faith.

CHAPTER IV.

A 'POSSUM HUNT ON THE OLD PLANTATION.

        There was a good supply of fresh water fish in Pudden Swamp in ante-bellum days. The varieties known and caught in those days were suckers, pikes, jacks, perches and catfish. But the slaves hadn't much time for fishing; they had to work during the day. But they were very fond of hunting coons and 'possums, and even this pastime had to be gratified at night.

        The flesh of these animals, when properly prepared, makes a very savory and palatable dish. The method of cooking the 'possum or coon was this: They first parboiled it whole and then roasted or baked it brown. Sweet potatoes were also boiled and skinned and roasted around it. The slaves were very fond of such dishes.

        As has already been remarked, the young men had a natural fondness for hunting. Like the sporting men of all races, there were some slaves who possessed a natural fondness for the chase.

        There were four dogs belonging to the white folks and perhaps one or two belonging to the slaves. These were all trained by the slaves. There was old Sumter, named for General Sumter of Revolutionary fame, and old Bull, Rip and

Tiz. The last two were full-blood fox hounds, male and female. Better 'possum and coon dogs never entered the woods. Then there was old Toler. He was half bull and belonged to Tom. He was the fighter. When the other dogs failed he would swing to a 'possum or coon to the last. A 'possum was not much at fighting, unless he was caught in his den, then it took all the dogs to bring him out, and often all failed but old Toler. He would bring him out or die. Consequently the boys seldom left him behind. His presence was necessary to do the fighting.

        'Possums usually inhabit the woodland and coons the swamps. The boys thought that they would like to have a 'possum for their Sunday morning's breakfast, and yet they had been told by Uncle Fridie and Uncle Isom not to go hunting on Saturday night, for, as the holy Sabbath began at midnight and as they had no way of telling when midnight came, they would be likely to hunt on Sunday. They owned no watches, but were told that when the seven stars reached a point directly overhead that it was midnight. Such was the case at that season of the year.

        After supper the boys started out. The only things necessary to achieve a successful hunt was the dogs and two or three good, sharp axes with which to cut down the trees when the dogs would tree the game. They first went to the woods for

a 'possum hunt, but, after wandering away for two miles, the dogs failed to strike a trail. They then concluded to go to the swamp (Pudden Swamp), for a coon hunt. Away then went, holding in their hands bright pitch pine torches. Now and then they would give to the dogs a keen coon hunters' whoop, but there came no response from them. On they went in the dark and dense swamp, whooping up the dogs. Presently the clear, full yelp of old Bull was heard. Sydney said, "It is a rabbit, for old Bull likes to run rabbits." "Wait and see," said Tom. Sam, who was the oldest in the crowd, and who had more experience in the hunting business than all the others, said: "I am waiting on old Tiz, for she never runs rabbits at night. If she barks then I will know it's a coon." Again the boys whooped to the dogs. Just then a long, rolling bark was heard, such as a full-blood fox hound would make when it strikes a warm trail. Sam said: "Boys, it is old Tiz, and I believe it is a coon. Come on." The torch-bearers snuffed their torches and quickened their steps. Again the boys whooped. By this time all four of the dogs, as the hunters used to say, were speaking. Old Bull, old Sumter, Rip and Tiz. The sound of their barking and yelping was like different voices singing the four parts of music. There was the soprano, alto, tenor and bass. Again

the boys whooped. On they went trying to keep up with the dogs. The fellows got lively as they thought of the fun just ahead of them, when they would have the pleasure of witnessing a great coon-dog fight. But all of a sudden every dog ceased barking and the hunters stopped. They did not know what to make of it. Again they whooped, but there was no response on the part of the dogs. They listened in silent wonder. Presently the dogs came in, one by one, with their tails drooping between their hind legs. The boys noticed that their bristles were all upturned and they whined at their feet. The hunters became frightened and they began to think. Tom said, "Boys, perhaps it is after midnight and we are hunting on Sunday." Instantly all eyes were upturned as they peered into the heavens looking for the seven stars, and to their surprise the seven stars had passed the zenith and swung far over into the western sky. Then they remembered what Uncle Fridle and Uncle Isom had told them about hunting on Sunday. Immediately they all concluded that God was angry with them for desecrating His holy day, and allowed the devil to come after them. It is needless to say that they left the swamp unceremoniously, for such was the case. They ran nearly every step of the way home, and when they got their breath they awoke the whole negro

quarters and related their wonderful but very unpleasant experience. All the slaves believed that it was the devil sent after those wicked boys, but when the white folks heard of it they said it was a bear, for Mr. Adolphus saw one just a few days before while squirrel hunting in that region. But the slaves all held to their belief and still contended that it was the devil and that he came in the form of a big black bear. Suffice it to say that it cured the boys, and from that time on there was no more 'possum and coon hunting by the slaves on Saturday night in all that part of the country.

CHAPTER V.

A WEDDING ON THE OLD PLANTATION.

        The slave young men and young women were like the young people of all other races, they fell in love and they married. Their love affairs, their courtship and their marriage were of the simplest form. They could not read nor write, therefore notes and letters did not figure in their love experiences. But they loved all the same. Cupid managed to kindle the divine spark in their breasts, and he had a way to fan it to a flame.

        Love, as every one who has loved knows, has a language peculiarly its own. And it is not a language of words, but rather a language like that of free masonry. It is a language of grips, of signs and of symbols. When two young slaves fell in love with each other the young man would make it known on his part by a gentle pressure of the young woman's hand as they shook hands. Or he would give her a peculiar or affectionate smile and accompany his action with a loving gift. And in the majority of cases the gift consisted in the most beautiful red apple that he could secure from the orchard. The girl would rarely eat the apple until the Sabbath was passed

and until it had become mellow. The presentation would likely be made on the Sabbath as they went or returned from church, and the girl invariably carried the apple in her hand or wrapped it in her handkerchief. As she gazed upon its beauty and inhaled its fragrance, she would be reminded of the tender love of her sweetheart.

        When the young man became satisfied that he had won the heart of his girl, he then proceeded gently and modestly to ask her to become his wife. This was called among the slaves "popping the question." Having secured her consent, he next secured the consent of her parents, if she had any, and the consent of his master and her master, if she lived on another plantation. This ended it. He was considered married, and he took her to be his wife. This was the usual way. There was no religious wedding ceremony and no marriage supper.

        But there were a few isolated cases where the slaves were allowed to marry in due form and were given a wedding supper. These were the more prominent or favorite slaves, such as butlers, coachmen, nurses, chambermaids or cooks, sometimes enjoyed this privilege. Sam, the foreman on Mr. Frierson's plantation, was granted such a favor. He married a girl whose name was Bettie. She belonged to Mr. Isaac Keels, who

owned the adjoining plantation just north of Mr. Frierson's.

        The time was Saturday night and the occasion was a great one. Careful and elaborate preparations were made. The Friersons on Sam's side, and the Keelses on Bettie's side, co-operated to make the wedding a success. Also the relatives of the bride and the groom came forward to render assistance.

        There were six bridesmaids and six groomsmen. The bridesmaids were all dressed in white and the groomsmen in black. Most of these costumes were borrowed--some from the white folks and some from the colored. The marriage feast was a bountiful affair. A good size shote, the gift of Mr. Frierson, was nicely barbecued. Uncle Tom, the father of the groom, was an expert at barbecuing. He did a lot of it for the white folks, especially on occasions of general musters, weddings, picnics, etc. Dozens of chickens were roasted, potted and fried. An abundance of sweet potato custards, apple pies and cakes were baked, and several large pots of rice were boiled. Every plantation within a radius of five miles was represented at that wedding. The marriage took place at the bride's home, or, I might say, in the negro quarters on Mr. Isaac Keels' place. Several white folks were present, especially of the Friersons and the Keelses. Uncle John

Woods, an ante-bellum negro preacher, was engaged to perform the marriage ceremony. He was a very intelligent old man. He could read well and talk fluently. He was considered a great preacher by the slaves, and many of the devout white folks were fond of hearing him. He wore black pants and a black shad-belly or pigeon-tail coat and white vest. It was a secondhand outfit, and was the gift of his old master, Mr. Woods. He also wore a black silk beaver hat that looked rather seedy because of its extreme age and exposure to the elements. He wore a stiff standing white collar that spanned his neck and touched his ear on each side, and a white tie. But, withal, he had the appearance of a distinguished negro clergyman of ante-bellum days.

        The marriage ceremony took place in the yard. At some distance in front of the door of the two-room cabin was placed a small table with a clean white cloth over it and on which were two brass candlesticks. In these burned two tallow dips or candles. Behind this table stood the preacher. Near him sat Jerry Goodman in a chair with a fiddle, who played the wedding march. The waiters, as they were called, filed out in couples, a man and a woman walking together. The groom and his bride followed in the rear, with the bride gracefully leaning upon the arm of her beloved.

As now, so then, everybody tried to gain a view of the pair. Perfect silence reigned while Uncle John read, in a full, clear voice, the Methodist marriage ceremony. At the end the preacher was the first to kiss the bride, the groom the second, then followed kisses from all the bridesmaids and groomsmen. This was the custom in ante-bellum days among the slaves.

        The next thing in order was the supper. Two tables had been built on different sides of the yard, one for the white folks and the other for the colored. The table for the white folks was about twelve feet long and three feet wide; the one for the colored was about twenty feet long and three wide. Clean white cloths were spread over these tables and plates were placed thereon as close as persons could stand. Food was put upon these tables until, if they were things of life, they would literally have groaned under the burdens of good things. Uncle John was placed at the head of the colored people's table with the groom and his bride on the right and the groomsmen and bridesmaids on each side down the line. He asked the divine blessing, or said the grace, for both tables. There were several tables full of the guests, but, as the food supply was ample, all had enough. The whole scene was a picturesque one, and it was made more so by the

glare of the big bonfire that was kept burning in the yard.

        After supper the fiddle struck up, with the nimble fingers of Jerry Goodman on the bow, and the dancing began and continued until a very late hour of the night. Early in the next week Sam, the groom, settled the marriage fee by giving the preacher, Uncle John Woods, a peck of clean-beat rice. Thus ended the wedding festivities on the old plantation.

CHAPTER VI.

CHRITSMAS ON THE OLD PLANTATION.

        Not many of the slaves knew the historical significance of Christmas. They could not read nor write, hence their knowledge of the important events of history, even those of sacred history, was exceedingly limited. Most they knew about Christmas was that it meant a good time for everybody. It was the custom on the plantations in that region of the country to kill the fattening hogs just before Christmas so that all, white folks and slaves, might have plenty of fresh meat to eat during this joyous season. This gave rise to the expression, which originated among the slaves, "a hog-killing time." Backbones, spare-ribs and rice were a favorite dish about Christmas time.

        There is another thing to be considered about the way and manner in which Christmas was observed on the old plantation in ante-bellum days, and that is this: Three days were usually given to the slaves for Christmas. The day before, generally called "Christmas Eve," and the day after; hence the slaves thought all three days were Christmas. They frequently referred to Christmas Eve as "the first day of Christmas,"

to Christmas itself as "the second day of Christmas," and the day after as "the third or last day of Christmas." And this thought and this manner of expression have been brought over into freedom. Among the country colored people we frequently hear similar expressions used even at this day and time in speaking of Christmas.

        On some plantations it was the custom to have all the slaves repair in a body to the white folks' house on Christmas morning and receive a dram as "a Christmas present." Old and young, male and female, came forward for the "Christmas dram." It was certainly a lively time with the slaves on the old plantation. Those who came early to the yard would have to wait until all came. And while they waited they would whistle, jig or dance, or

                         "They sat and sung
                         Their slender ditties when the trees were bare."

        But this was not the case on Mr. Frierson's plantation. He was a Christian man, and, therefore, believed in and practiced the principles of temperance. He, nor a single member of his family, were ever known to indulge in strong drink. Such a thing as whiskey was unknown on that plantation. But it was freely used on some of the adjoining plantations. On some of these

there were drunkards to be found both among the white folks and among the slaves. But not so on Mr. Frierson's place. It was a plantation where sobriety was strictly taught and practiced by the white folks, and, consequently, the slaves were greatly benefited.

        But Christmas was observed on Mr. Frierson's place in a way that was highly enjoyable to all. It was the custom on all the plantations around to give at the beginning of the winter each male among the slaves a new outfit, consisting of shoes, pants, coat and a cap. The women and girls got shoes and dresses. Mr. Frierson made it a point to give out these on Christmas morning.

        On or about a month before Christmas the right foot of each slave, male and female, was measured and Mr. Frierson would get in his buggy and drive to Sumter, the County seat, and Sam would bring the two-horse wagon. The purpose was to buy shoes for the slaves. The town was only about twenty miles away, and by starting before day they could, and did, make the trip in a day, and do all their trading, too. The topic of conservation during that day among the slaves while they worked was the trip of the old boss and Sam to Sumter. As the sun went down and the time drew near for them to return the slaves would listen for the rumbling of the

wagon wheels and the sound of horses' hoofs. That night their slumbers were filled with dreams and visions of new suits, new shoes, new caps and new dresses. But these things were not given out until Christmas morning. And while this glad day was perhaps only a month off, yet the month seemed longer, the days seemed longer and the nights seemed longer than at any other season of the year. This was naturally and literally true of the nights, but it was not true of the days nor the month, but so it seemed to the slaves. The anxiety, the longing and the solicitude for the dawn of Christmas morning is indescribable. The thought of old Santa Claus among enlightened people never could produce such a feeling as that which animated the breasts of these poor, ignorant slaves.

        But Christmas came. The sun arose without a cloud to obscure his brightness. Breakfast is over and all hands repair to the "house." Presently the yard is full of darkies with smiling faces and joyous hearts. And there are as many piles on that long front piazza of the white folks house as there are hands on that place. In each pile there are shoes, a suit, or dress, and a cap. On each pile there is a tag with the name of the person written on it for whom it is designed. Now, imagine, if you can, the exquisite joy that thrilled each heart as his or her name was called.

And as each person filed out of that gate on their return to the negro quarters they seemed to be as happy as angels. And it is needless to say that the white folks enjoyed the distribution of the winter's outfit on Christmas morning as much as the slaves, for such undoubtedly was the case. Everybody felt that this was a better way than having a dram on Christmas morning. Such was Christmas on the old plantation in ante-bellum days.

CHAPTER VII.

SUNDAY ON THE OLD PLANTATION.

        Sunday was always a welcome day on the old plantation, not only by the slaves, but also by the white folks. It came in all right to break the monotony of plantation life. The older and more serious ones went to "meetin'" or visited the sick, or made social calls, while the youngsters met other youngsters from the adjoining plantations and spent the day in wrestling, jumping, boxing, running foot races and sometimes fighting. In the summer season they would sometimes roam through the fields from plantation to plantation in search of watermelons and fruits. They would plunge into the dark and dense swamp in search of wild muscadine grapes or through the fields for blackberries, or the pine woods for huckleberries.

        On some of the nearby plantations the younger slaves were made to do light work on Sunday, such as minding the birds and crows from the corn, rice and potatoes. When these plants were coming up the crows and rice birds were very destructive. They would pull them up, and often the whole crop would have to be carefully replanted. But Mr. Frierson, who planted the

same kinds of stuff as was planted on the other plantations, did not put any of his slaves on guard in the fields on Sunday, and yet he always made good crops and had an abundance. He was a God-fearing man, and held that the Sabbath was a day of rest for man and beast. He kept the day as sacred and required all his slaves, as nearly as possible, to do the same.

        The Shiloh Methodist Church, to which Mr. Frierson and his family belonged, formed a part of the circuit known as the "Lynchburg Circuit." The parsonage was located at Lynchburg, a little cross-roads village about eight miles away. The minister was accustomed to preach in the Methodist Church at Lynchburg Sunday morning at 11 o'clock and at Shiloh in the afternoon at 3:30 o'clock the same day. His appointment at the Shiloh Church was once a month, but to keep the slaves--and especially the younger ones--out of mischief, Mr. Frierson had preaching in his yard under the stately old water oaks on the regular preaching day at Shiloh. This service was conducted by some one of the old ante-bellum negro preachers. There was also a Sunday school conducted at the Shiloh Church in the afternoon just before preaching. All this was done for the spiritual and moral uplift of the slaves as well as to keep them out of devilment, and from desecrating God's holy day.

        But the service conducted in Mr. Frierson's yard at 11 o'clock on the preaching day at Shiloh was the centre of attraction in all that region of country. The more pious from the adjacent plantations, both white and colored, came in large numbers. The services invariably were conducted by ante-bellum negro preachers. These preachers were: Uncle John Woods, Uncle Daniel Gass, Uncle Daniel Hand, and Uncle Joseph White. Some of these lived just a few miles away, others again lived a considerable distance. One, Uncle Daniel Hand, lived across the Lynches River, over in Darlington, the adjoining county. They all had their day, and they seldom failed to meet it. Of course, they had to get the consent of their masters to come, and they invariably brought a ticket from their masters for their protection. If they lived far away their masters would let them have a mule to ride; or if it happened to be in the work season and the mules were busy, the master's saddle horse or buggy horse was given instead. But Uncle John Woods lived the nearest, and, therefore, was oftenest there.

        Mr. Frierson's front yard was a large one, and, as has been stated heretofore several times, it was well shaded with large and beautiful water oaks. Under these oaks Mr. Frierson had very comfortable seats placed. There was a seating

capacity for possibly 250 or 300 people. They were arranged so that the audience would face the east and present a side view to the white folks, who sat in the long front piazza. At the east end of these seats, fronting the audience, stood a small table with a clean, white cloth thrown over it. On this table was placed a pitcher of fresh water and a tumbler, a Bible and a hymn book, and behind it a chair. All this for the use and convenience of the speaker, who was always a colored man. No white preacher was ever known to stand behind that table, though some of them very much desired to do so. That long piazza was usually filled with devout white worshippers, and the seats below with zealous and enthusiastic colored Christians.

        The scene presented a very unique appearance. Those who had religion in that day and time had what is now called "the old time religion." Sometimes when the old preacher would warm up to his subject and grow loud, if not eloquent, the audience would break forth in shouts of joy and praise. (While some colored sister would be jumping out in the audience, some of the white ladies were known to act in a similar manner in the piazza. In those days both the White folks and the colored folks had good religion. The singing by the colored folks on such occasions was an important feature of the worship. It

was not done by notes nor always by words, but it was from the heart, and the melody seldom failed to stir the soul. Rev. Dinkins, the negro poet quoted previously, describes it thus:

                         "Give me the farm when Sunday comes,
                         When all the girls and all the chums
                         Meet at the spring,
                         When long-eared mules, ox-carts in droves,
                         Come sailing through the woods and groves,
                         Oh, how we sing!

                         "The preacher reads the hymn divine,
                         And we remember not a line,
                         But sing right on;
                         When with the text we start to shout,
                         Forgetting shame, or pride, or doubt,
                         To heaven most gone."

        Uncle John Woods was a good preacher, considering his chances, and had an excellent command of good English. He was a man of deep piety, and had the love and respect of both white and colored. The author herewith reproduces, from memory, one of his sermons preached in Mr. Frierson's yard.

A SERMON ON THE OLD PLANTATION.

By Uncle John Woods.

        Text--"The men of Nineveh shall rise in judgment with this generation and shall condemn it

because they repented at the preaching of Jonas; and, behold, a greater than Jonas is here."-- Matt. xii:41.

        Brothers and Sisters: These words, which I have taken for a text, were spoken by our Lord, Jesus Christ. He spoke them to the people of His day and time, but He commanded His servant, St. Matthew, to write them down in a book so that all the people in all the ages might have them and take warning. So I bring them to you today, and you will do well to listen and to take heed.

        St. Matthew was a servant, brothers and sisters, and he was a good servant and obeyed Christ, his Master. Christ called him and he came and followed Christ. Christ commanded him to write the gospel and he wrote it. So Christ wants you and me to obey Him in all things. He says, "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand." Christ wants us to hear His voice and obey His words. And if we don't obey Him he will punish us, for He says in another place: "He that knows his Master's will and does it not shall be beaten with many stripes." Many of us know, in a two-fold sense, what this means. But all who are not Christians will learn to their sorrow one of these days what it means in a spiritual sense. Christ is our Master, we are His servants, and if we don't obey Him and

repent, He will certainly apply the lash, and apply it severely, too.

        But let us consider Jonah. He is the man referred to in the text. Let me read it again; perhaps you have forgotten it: "The men of Ninevah shall rise in judgment with this generation and shall condemn it, because they repented at the preaching of Jonah; and, behold, a greater than Jonah is here." Jonah was called just like Matthew. Matthew was called to be an apostle and to write a book, and he obeyed. Jonah was called to be a prophet. He was sent to preach repentance to the people of Ninevah, but he refused to go. It is hard to tell, brothers and sisters, what were his reasons for not obeying God and going to preach to these people. But I remember that Jonah was a Jew, and, according to his raising and training, he did not want to have anything to do with the people of another nation. He did not wish to associate with them, he did not wish to eat with them, nor sleep in their houses, nor to preach the word of God to them. I can't say Jonah was a wicked man, neither can I say he was a bad man, for I don't believe that God would call a wicked or a bad man to preach His word to the people, no, not even to the heathen.

        Now, what did Jonah do? Let us see. He ran away, or, at least, he tried to run away from

God. He thought he would go down to Joppa, buy a ticket for Tarshish and take shipping for that place, as though there was no God in Joppa, Tarshish or on the sea. My friends, I fear we sometimes make the same mistake. We do wrong and then try to run away from God. We try to hide from His presence. Adam and Eve, in the Garden of Eden, tried the same trick, but it would not work. They sinned against God. They disobeyed Him and ate the forbidden fruit, and when they found that God was displeased and angry with them, they hid themselves among the bushes of the garden. But God came down and sought them and found them. Right there in the garden the judgment was set; the guilty pair was convicted and the awful sentence was pronounced. In great shame and disgrace they were driven from that holy place out into a world of sin, sorrow and misery. If a man breaks God's holy law and sin against Him, though he may run away and hide, God will find him and punish him. The Bible says, "Be sure your sins will find you out."

        But Jonah came to Joppa, and, after paying his fare, he went aboard that ship. He did not feel good. He did not feel like a man taking a pleasure trip, nor like a man going off on business. He did not sit down on deck and converse with the other passengers. No, under the burden

of his terrible guilt he went down into the hold of the ship among the freight and went fast to sleep. He went to sleep! Sleep is all right when it is taken in the right place, at the right time and under the right circumstances. Otherwise it is wrong, it is out of place. Hence you see, brothers and sisters, it is possible for a man to sleep with a great burden of guilt upon him, and when he is in great and fearful danger. Jonah was asleep, but God was wide awake with His eyes on him. Jonah thought he was hiding, but God saw him.

        By and by I hear loud thunders begin to roll. I see dark clouds coming up. The lightnings flash and play upon the bosom of these black clouds. The sea roars and the waves rise like mountains. The ship pitches and rocks and the shipmaster and his crew become afraid. They threw some of the freight overboard and every man prayed to his god, and yet the storm was not abated. It still raged. Then they thought that they would cast lots to see on whose account this terrible storm had come upon them. They felt that somebody was guilty and they desired to find the guilty man. And when the lot was cast it fell upon Jonah. He was the guilty man. Then the shipmaster went down in the hold and found Jonah fast asleep. How that man could sleep in the midst of such a storm is a mystery to me! I

cannot understand it. But every sinner is doing the same thing. He is dead asleep in his sins while the storm of God's wrath is raging all around him.

        The shipmaster said to Jonah: "What meanest thou, O sleeper? arise, call upon thy God, if so be that God will think upon us, that we perish not." When Jonah was awakened, the shipmaster, his crew and the passengers all gathered around him and asked him what was his occupation, what was his country and what was his nation. And Jonah answered and said: "I am a Hebrew and I fear Jehovah, the God of heaven, who hath made the sea and the dry land." He then confessed his guilt. He told them that he was trying to run away from God, and begged them to throw him into the sea. They did so. But God had sent a great fish to swallow up Jonah. And Jonah was three days and nights in the belly of the fish. Then God told the fish to cast Jonah out on land, and the fish did so. And when Jonah got free from the fish he went to Nineveh and preached repentance to the people, and the whole city was converted and spared. Now, Jesus says in my text: "The men of Nineveh shall rise in judgment with this generation and shall condemn it, because they repented at the preaching of Jonah; and, behold, a greater than Jonah is here."

        Christ declares here in this text that He is greater than Jonah. And so He is. This does not need any argument to prove it. You all believe that Christ is greater than Jonah. Jonah was a man, Christ was God. Jonah was guilty of the sins of disobedience and anger, Christ yielded perfect obedience to God and was without sin. Therefore He is greater than Jonah. But the people of Ninevah repented at the preaching of Jonah, while Christ, who is greater than Jonah, came from heaven to earth to preach to sinners, and they will not hear nor repent. Therefore the people of Nineveh shall rise up in the judgment and condemn them.

        My friends, there is going to be a judgment. God has appointed a day when He is going to judge the world. All the good angels will be there. All the devils in hell and out of hell will be there. All the good people saved in heaven will be there, and all the bad people lost in hell will be there. And you, my friends, all will be there, and I will be there. And if you don't repent the men of Nineveh will come forth as witnesses against you. They shall condemn you, because they repented at the preaching of Jonah, and behold a greater than Jonah is here, and that greater one is Christ.

        May the Lord help you all to get ready for that awful day, for it will surely come!

        This sermon, of which the above sketch is a mere outline, was delivered with great energy and power, and it produced a deep impression upon the entire audience.

CHAPTER VIII.

A FUNERAL ON THE OLD PLANTATION.

        It may appear strange to the reader, but it is true, nevertheless, that in some way or other the slaves very often connected sickness and death with voodooism or conjuration. This belief and practice of voodooism and conjuration originated in Africa, and was brought over to America when the native African was brought here and made a slave. The idea is deeply rooted in the negro thought and life. Its history runs back, perhaps, four thousand years among the native tribes of that Dark Continent.

        I quote from the University Encyclopedia: "Voodoo, a name given by the negroes of the West Indies and the United States to superstitious rites and beliefs brought with them from Africa, and to the sorcerer who practiced these rites.

        "In the Southern States of the Union there was at one time a widespread and deep-rooted belief in the power of these sorcerers. As the negroes advance in education the belief is dying away. At one time, however, despite all efforts of religious teachers to banish the mastery of this belief from the minds of the slaves, the voodoo "doctor'

was an almost omnipotent individual in the estimation of his fellows. No slave could, under any pretext, be persuaded to expose himself to the vengeance or wrath of one of these conjurers. In some cases there was a reasonable foundation for these fears, for in not a few instances has it been proven that some of the voodoos were skillful poisoners, and while the great mass of their professed art was a rank imposture, still they possessed enough of devilish skill to render them objects of wholesome dread.

        "Their methods were as varied and variable as the winds. Anything that was mysterious or likely to impress the ignorant mind with a feeling of terror was eagerly seized on and improved by them to their own advantage. Their services were more often invoked in destructive than in curative offices. If a negro desired to destroy an enemy he sought the aid of the voodoo, who, in many cases, would undertake to remove the obnoxious one, and the removal was generally accomplished through the medium of poison. No doubt exists that in many cases the victim of a voodoo died from sheer fright, for whenever a negro had reason to think that he was possessed by the spell of the voodoo, he at once gave up all hope, thus hastening the accomplishment of the end toward which the energies of the sorcerer were directed. Their incantations and

spell-workings were always conducted with the greatest secrecy, no one being allowed to witness the more occult and potent portion of their ritual. They were frequently employed by dusky swains to gain for them the affections of their hardhearted inamoratas, and love powders and other accessories for 'tricking' constituted their stock in trade, and in some instances yielded them no insignificant revenue. The field in which voodooism flourished best was the far South, among the rice, cotton and sugar plantations, where the negroes were not brought into contact so closely with their masters as they were further North."

        The above quotation is a correct presentation of the conditions as they existed on the Frierson plantation, as well as on every plantation in the Southern States. What was true of one as regards voodooism and conjuration, was true of all of them.

        Well, there was a girl on the Frierson plantation by the name of Mary. She was a black girl of medium size, but rather good looking. She was quite a favorite among the young men of the place and neighborhood. Several, so to speak, were cutting after her. Mary was a daughter of Aunt Peggie and Uncle Sam. But it came to pass that she took sick, and, after a lingering illness of possibly four or six months' duration, she died, leaving behind her a little infant.

During the entire period of her sickness it was whispered around on the plantation, also on the adjoining plantations, that Mary had been conjured. Of course, this meant that she had been poisoned. There was a woman who lived on a plantation not far away, whose name was Epsey. This woman was said to have been Mary's rival in a love scrape, and, therefore, was accused of being the one who administered the dose. Some conjurer of the neighborhood prepared the dose for her, so it was said. This thing--Mary's sickness and death, and the talk of her being conjured--stirred the negroes on all the plantations for miles around.

        But the white folks took no stock in all these rumors and gossip. They knew that Mary was sick, therefore they sent for Dr. Adolphus Higgins Frierson. He was a brother of the proprietor of the old plantation, and was a graduate of a medical college in Philadelphia, Pa. He was a learned man and a very competent physician. He was the family physician for the white folks, and also attended the slaves.

        Dr. Frierson treated Mary, but the slaves did not think that he understood the case perfectly well. He said Mary had been "hurt" or "conjured," and that he alone could cure her. So he

treated her secretly at the same time that Dr. Frierson was treating her. But it came to pass that Mary died and her funeral was the largest ever held in all that region of the country.

        Death always made a very profound impression upon the slaves. They could not understand it. Their dead was invariably buried at night or on the Sabbath, at which time the slaves from the adjoining plantations attended in large numbers. Mary's funeral took place at night.

        The coffin, a rough home-made affair, was placed upon a cart, which was drawn by old Gray, and the multitude formed in a line in the rear, marching two deep. The procession was something like a quarter of a mile long. Perhaps every fifteenth person down the line carried an uplifted torch. As the procession moved slowly toward "the lonesome graveyard" down by the side of the swamp, they sung the well-known hymn of Dr. Isaac Watts:

                         "When I can read my title clear
                         To mansions in the skies,
                         I bid farewell to every fear
                         And wipe my weeping eyes."

        Mary's baby was taken to the graveyard by its grandmother, and before the corpse was deposited in the earth, the baby was passed from one

person to another across the coffin. The slaves believed that if this was not done it would be impossible to raise the infant. The mother's spirit would come back for her baby and take it to herself. This belief is held by many of the descendants of these slaves, who practice the same thing at the present day.

        After this performance the corpse was lowered into the grave and covered, each person throwing a handful of dirt into the grave as a last and farewell act of kindness to the dead, and while this was being done the leader announced that other hymn of Dr. Watts:

                         "Hark! from the tombs a doleful sound
                         My ears, attend the cry;
                         Ye living men, come view the ground
                         Where you must shortly lie."

        These hymns were sung with a spirit and pathos which were sufficient to move the heart of a savage. A prayer was offered, the doxology sung and the benediction was pronounced. This concluded the services at the grave. No burial or committal service was read, for it was only now and then that one could be found among the slaves who could read well enough to do it. At a subsequent time, when all the relatives and friends could be brought together, a big funeral

sermon was preached by some one of the ante-bellum negro preachers. And this practice has been brought over into the land of freedom, and is still observed in some places and by some colored people at the present day.

CHAPTER IX.

A LOG-ROLLING ON THE OLD PLANTATION.

        The slaveholders of ante-bellum days had some customs that were very convenient, and, at the same time, very helpful to each other. There were no markets and butchers in the country, where they could get fresh meats: hence they formed a market among themselves, and each man was his own butcher. That is, a number of them formed themselves into a club, one of which killed a fat young beef every Saturday, and a choice piece was taken to each member of the club. Thus they were supplied with nice fresh beef every week. This beef was not sold, but was distributed around among the members of the club as a sort of an exchange arrangement. When a member of the club killed, he put the whole beef into the wagon (except his own choice or piece) and sent it round to each member of the club, and they made their own selection. When the club was formed, each member subscribed to, or promised to take so many pounds each week, and it was done. This arrangement obtained all through the country, and it worked very nicely. There was another arrangement, which was formed by the planters for mutual helpfulness:

namely, the log-rolling. A day was set on which the log-rolling was to take place, and then invitations were sent out to the neighboring planters, and each sent a hand. This work was returned when the others had their log-rolling. A log-rolling always meant a good dinner of the best, and lots of fun, as well as a testing of manhood. This testing of manhood was something that everybody was interested in. The masters were concerned, and consequently they selected and sent to the log-rolling their ablest-bodied men; the slave women were concerned: for they wanted their husbands and sweethearts to be considered the best men of the community. Then, too, the men took great pride in the development of their muscles. They took delight in rolling up their shirt sleeves, and displaying the largeness of their arms. In some cases, their muscles presented the appearance of John L. Sullivan--the American pugilist.

        The woodlands of the South were covered with a variety of trees and undergrowth. Among the trees, were to be found the majestic pine, the sturdy oak, the sweet maple, the lovely dogwood, and the fruitful and useful hickory. When a piece of woodland was cleared up, and made ready for planting, it was called "new ground." In clearing up new ground, the undergrowth was

grubbed up and burned; the oaks, maples, dogwood, and hickories were cut down, split up, and hauled to the house for firewood; and the pines were belted or cut round, and left to die. After these pines had died and partially decayed, the winter's storms, from year to year, would blow them down: hence the necessity for the annual log-rolling. These log-rollings usually took place in the spring of the year. They formed an important part of the preparations for the new crop.

        On the appointed day, the hands came together at the yard, and all necessary arrangements were made, the most important of which was the pairing or matching of the men for the day's work. In doing this, regard was had to the height and weight of the men. They were to lift in pairs, therefore, it was necessary that they should be as nearly the same height and weight as possible. The logs have all been cut about twenty feet in length, and several good, strong hand sticks have been made. Now, everything is ready, and away to the fields they go. See them as they put six hand-sticks under a great big log. This means twelve men--one at each end of the hand-stick. It is going to be a mighty testing of manhood. Every man is ordered to his place. The captain gives the order, "Ready," and every man bows to

his burden, with one hand on the end of the handstick, and the other on the log to keep it from rolling. The next command given by the captain is, "Altogether!" and up comes the big log. As they walk and stagger toward the heap, they utter a whoop like what is known as the "Rebel yell." If one fails to lift his part, he is said to have been "pulled down," and therefore becomes the butt of ridicule for the balance of the day. When the women folks learn of his misfortune, they forever scorn him as a weakling.

        At 12 o'clock the horn blows for dinner, and they all knock off, and go, and enjoy a good dinner. After a rest, for possibly two hours, they go to the field again, and finish up the work for the day. Such was the log-rolling in the "days before the war."

        At a subsequent day the women and children gather up the bark and limbs of these fallen trees and throw or pile them on these log heaps and burn them. When fifty or seventy-five log heaps would be fully ablaze in the deepening of the evening twilight, the glare reflected from the heavens made it appear that the world was on fire. To even the benighted and uneducated slave, the sight was magnificent, and one of awe-inspiring beauty.

        The custom of log-rolling, under the changed condition of things, may be done away with, but its name still lingers in the thought and language of modern times. It is often heard in gatherings, both religious and political, where everything goes, or is made to go one way. Such they say is "log-rolling." The idea comes from the fact that in a log-rolling, every man does his part, and every man goes the same way. There is unity of purpose, and concert of action. This is "log-rolling" in modern times.

CHAPTER X.

A CORN-SHUCKING ON THE OLD PLANTATION.

        All who have the good fortune to have been born and reared in the country, can recall with pleasing recollections the joy that welled up in all hearts during the harvest. Rev. Dr. Henry Duncan, an English writer of singular ability, says: "The heart thus opened, is prepared for that social enjoyment which we observe so remarkably diffused over whole bands of reapers engaged in the same toilsome but healthful employment. The emotion spreads from heart to heart, and the animation which prevails while the work proceeds, is not less an indication of gladness than the joke and song with which the welkin resounds during the intervals of rest. Who can view the joy which sparkles in the eye, and bursts from the lips of the reaper while he plies his daily tasks and not acknowledge a beneficent Creator?"

        In the Book of Ruth we have a vivid and beautiful picture given us of an oriental harvest. The fields of Boaz teem with plenty. The golden crop yields its stores to replenish his granaries. The voice of the season calls for the reapers. They take down their sickles and whet them until they

are keen and bright. Then away to the harvestfield they go, followed by the binders and gleaners; among the latter is the lovely Ruth. With patient industry they ply the sickle from morn till noon, at which time they gather, master, reapers, binders and gleaners, to partake of their bountiful meal. This they do with a beautiful simplicity and with great joy and gladness. And this joy and gladness is not the result of having a plenty to eat and drink, but the responsive gratitude of the finer qualities of the heart for the gracious and lavish gifts of a Divine Providence. This sentiment--joy at the return of the harvest--is characteristic of human nature. This is the testimony of all ages the world over. So it was with the ancient Egyptians, Greeks, and Romans. And so it is with us at the present day. The writer of these pages can remember the time when, even in America, the grain harvest was a time of great rejoicing. Of course this was before reapers or harvesters became so common. The neighbors for miles around used to send each a hand, with the old-fashioned "cradle," to our house, to assist in reaping down the harvest. And when ours was all done, we sent to help each of them. This was the custom in those days. With twenty hands we could reap down nearly a hundred acres in a

day. Each reaper had a binder to follow him, and each binder had a little boy to gather up the handfuls as fast as the reaper would let them fall, and hand them to him or her. The writer was one of those little boys. It was fun for us. We always had a plenty to eat and drink of the best the farm afforded. The fun, the sport, and the joy we all had cannot be described. Only those who have had some acquaintance with farm life can imagine how we enjoyed it. What we ate and drank, and the joy the harvest afforded, constituted a considerable portion of our reward for bearing the burden and the heat of the day in the harvest field. Thi