Morning journal and courier., 1885-01-07

Classic Town of ofOberIin-The esIor5es of the Town and Its Halls of Learn ing.
 OBERLIN, Ohio, Jan 9
 To the Editor of the JOURNAL AND COURIER: Come in.' Your correspondent had sue
 ceeded in putting girdle around the earth
 via Japan, China, the English colonies Bur
 nah, India, Egypt, Palestine, Asia Minor
 and Europe, and had now resolved to see
 something of our own most wonderful of all
 countries. Pursuant to this resolve, I had
 then drifted into this historical little town of northern Ohio, believing that a brief stop
 here might prove an easy introduction to the
 experiences which l am to enjoy and record
 for your mental delectation this winter in
 the course of an extensive tour in most if
 not all of the former slave States.
 It was in response to my rap at the front
 door of large white house in the African ] suburbs of this town that my ears were sa-
 luted with the invitation which opens this
 letter. obeyed the voice by opening the
 door and stalking in. Here as in the South,
 the educated whites seem to look upon it as
 their prerogative to dispense with certain for
 malities when dealing with their colored 1 brethren. I found a colored man and his l wife within, seated at oblong table, en- toying very late breakfast This was Eli jah Brown and wife, as I had been informed l in advance.
 ''Is MT. Lewis Clark the George Harris 1 of Uncle Toms Cabin fame, at present in the 1 house?" I inquired. |'Yes, sir' responded MT. Brown, helping himself to some more 1 fried apples and cycling me interrogatively.
 It always makes me nervous to be eyed by l May I see him.' '.Sartinly; you go 1 right up them lar stairs and that's his room | over this one."
 l I clambered up the stairs, and recognizing | MT. Clark seated in rocking-chair in the l apartment in question, walked in upon him. ''Ah, good morning, good morning, sir. l Walk right in and make yourself to home" ''Then l am not nuisance:' "Oh no, 1 sir. have lots of you newspaper and the atrical people call on me, though not often 1 newspaper man from out of the State. They 1 call me Old Accommodation around here, l and l guess the name belongs to me by rights. Tan always glad to everybody" The reputation is indeed well earned. MT. Clark Is as genial and jolly man you will l find north of Mason and Dixon's line. He is | always good natured, always hospitable al ways "dead broke" He is too generous to others to be just to himself. While the orig nal of Mrs. Stowe's celebrated hero possess es these elevated qualities, he is hardly up in other respects to the standard ot character which is attributed to him in the novel. He is improvident, cratic and decidedly voluble in a warm hearted way. In personal appear ance he may be described a light octo room, with partially bald head fringed with grizzly grey hair, unkenlpt ide-whiskers of the same hue and quality as his hair, and a face that in repose' might look stern, in deed it always does in his photographs, but which in real life is never stern because of the restless jollity of the His fore head is heavily furrowed with wrinkles. I had met Mr. Clark more than once in the l past when student at Oberlin college, and l accordingly felt at liberty to address him ia miliarly.
 ''Well, MT. Clark, how does the world use J yous" I inquired. "Oh, I never complain, i sir; never complain, was the response 'I always try to be happy, and most of the l time think I may Say I'm as happy as the | day is long. I'm getting to be all old man | now I suppose, but my health is wonderfully | preserved, and if ever l get discouraged I | just think of the slavery days But just | now I'm not as pleasantly situated as usual. | You know I went back to my cid home in | Kentucky couple of years or so ago, and | while was gone the folks got word that | was dead and broke up the old home on East | College street. You know I never could | make enough to pay the rent most of the | time and it would have had to go anyway. l But how could you expect poor colored | man to support family of nine children and l no end of relations: It is a comfort to me to | know that all the children got 8 first-class ed ucation, whatever else they lacked"
 Certainly Lewis Clark has reason to be | proud of what he has done for his children, 1 and also of the children themselves. I can remember the nine pairs of bright eyes and | the nine almost white faces that were wont l to make the Clark home joy forever to it's paternal head in the days when the family was all together.
 'sWhere are the little ones now?' I in quired. Scattered, scattered, sir. Some in Detroit and some in other parts of Michigan. | Several of them are no longer little ones, however. Two or three are teaching with | real success in the north. My wife has been dead over dozen years you know. l am hoping to get portion of the family togeth- again next year.
 ''What do you do for living now?' "Odd jobs of almost any sort, sir. In the summer I get considerable pruning to do in the or chards hereabouts. Most of the good people in Oberlin know me and are glad to give me work if they have it. Then l go out lectur- ing in the small towns and earn little some thing in that way. 1 still sell my photo graphs and autographs also when can get a chance. Here is a sample autograph card with piece of linen thread tied to the cor which I spun myself. My spinning wheel is in Cincinnati now, where I left it with 8 friend. The machine which I invent ed, described by Mrs. Stowe, is at the same place. Sometimes [ have received of fers from theatrical companies to travel and | act the part of George Harris in Uncle Toms Cabin for living, but l have never felt | ready to take that step. l had rather lecture in small way when l get a chance''
 Being familiar with Mir Clark on the plat form, I can state that his lecturing is usually done in small way. His lines of thought | not methodio enough to serve him well on the platform. He is fluent enough of l speech, but his remarks rambling and in coherent in the extreme. He only speaks in the very smallest country towns ill Ohio and Kentucky, and not oftener than three or four times month at that.
 ''You are now getting to be about the only Uncle Tom character living, are you not?' F'Yes, sir. Uncle Tom himself died four or five years ago in Dresden, Dawn township, Canada, at the advanced age of ninety-four years. He was known as Sam Pete before he secured his freedom, and afterwards as the Rev. Josiah Henson, Uncle Si, as he was familiarly called by his parishioners If he was not actually beaten to death as portrayed in the novel, he was so cruelty beaten that to the day of his death he could not use his arms or hands except upon objects in front of him. He could not comb his own hair or shave himself 1 saw him when he was thus cruelty beaten, and eight others beaten just as hard Let's see, I must be sxtv-nine or seventy years old now-sixty-nine I guess, for, as near as 1 can make out, I was born on March 15, 1915. I was born in Madison county, Kentucky, about nine miles from Berea college. l was the slave of my own grandfather, Scotch weaver and soldier in the revolution, by the name of Samuel Camp bell. My mother a mulatto slave, Ieti- tia Campbell, the daughter of her own mas ter. The Legree to whom we belonged at the time of the cruel whipping was a man named Tom Kennedy-though in truth I suppose Mrs. Stowe derived some of the characteristics fer her Legree from the char acter of Bryce Lytton, an overseer on the plantation of Isaac Riley in Maryland At the elder Kennedy's death I was sold to a of his who also bore the name of Tom. This new master was sufficiently kind to me, though somewhat addicted to the drink hab- it."
 'tDid you know the originals of most of the characters in the novel!" "Oh yes: though you must know that some of the peo- pie described are combinations of two or three persons in real life. Uncle Tom. or Si. belonged to Amos Riley, whose plantation in