The watchman and southron. [volume] (Sumter, S.C.) 1881-1930, 1894-03-14

slsvery if be has any proper knowledge
Of God, any sense Of right. any idea
Of cleanliness, any desires that are not
low, debasipg and groveling When
a man sets out to add up the miaeries
of sIave-life, he should not forget to
count in these things | have mentioned.
Let me repeat part Of my statement,
iu order to give it empbasis-If the
Negro has any knowledge Of God or
or hope of heaven, he owes it to the
fact that once be was was slave in the
land where God is worsbipped and
believed in.
4. The white man o,ees the Negro a
debt Of gratitude.
As our slaves. they hewed down
the forest, and laid the basis for our
prosperity aud wealth, and, all things
cousidered, they are the most salts
factory workmeu the Southern white
people can have. In childhood, they
we're our playmates and companions,
and in babyhood they were our mothers
aud nurses. The old mauma, her
head turbanned with a red bandanua
haukerchief, has played great. if not
a conspicuous part, IN rearing up the
manhood of this blessed land of ours.
Their interest in the little baby given
to their keeping was generally pure
and unsel6sh, and not one 10 thousand
betrayed the trust reposed 8in her by
the white owner. How many of US
look back withple reloahe old mauma
with the black face ins whose good
arms we found shelter and protection
against all the thousand troubles that
infest bayhood. If you will be gene
rous, and pardon me, | will quote a
verse of rhyme. once called it
poetry. It was among the first rhymes
I ever wrote. In the summer Of 1867 !,
nv good old nurse died. l was a
boy Of fifteen. I followed along with
the great singing procession to the
Negro graveyard on the banks of the
creek. / stood in tears to one side
as they were burryiog the old woman
away, and there | fingered long
after every one else had gone.
With my pocket-knife | cut her
name in big letters on tree near the
grave, and then went home, suffering a
genuine bereavement. My sorrow ran
out in rhyme, and l called lady
friend and gave her my verses
to read. They have all gone from my
mind now, except the first verse
Deep, O deep saw them lay her,
Far beneath the upturned sod /;
thought heard the angels calling,
Liada Linda come to God.
Nothing in the poetry. did you say ?
No, only this-it shows the place the
the cid mauma filled in. the heart of a
Southern boy Nor was mine the
only heart that was lit with a feeling of
love for the old back mauma. Almost
the first thing I did after came into
the property left to me by my father.
was to call in the four.or five families Of
very old Negroes whom once my father
owned, aud give them each ten acres of
land for homes during their life. Since
then, all have died but two, but [ have
felt an inward sense Of satisfaction to
know that had done even this little
thing to help the old souls, and ease
them down to their graves as gently as
possible. say owed them some
thing. Ihave never forgotten how they
acted during those awful years OF war,
when the country was all astir. The
men we're in the field, and only the
aged fathers at home with the women
and children. We were at the mercy
of the Negroes then. An uprising
amoug them, at any time after 1862,
would have brought the war to sudden
end. They could have burned our
homes. or murdered defenceless
mothers, but if any such thing happened /,
if there was single case of treschery, 1t
it has not come to light, aud We ought
to write it down among the things not
to be forgotten. that when We most
needed him, the Negro stood faithful to
his master.
All! but how about after the war? Did
not the Negro rush to Office? And how
about those reconstruction times
Well, I'll answer the questions asked,
Angerruled our na,ion then, and when the
Northern people set Negroes to garrison
our homes and to rule over white men
with guns, it was done to huull'a'e the
Southerner; but the Negro was only a
tool 10 the hands Of the government
1t was not in his power to resist, even
if he had wished to do so. And when
our legislative halls became full Of the
the most Ignorant of the people, the
Negroes were only sools again in the
hands of crafty men who knew how to