The daily morning journal and courier., 1895-03-13

CAAnSeQ, ana was tnuCn more sentiment
 tai and sympathetic. They rendered
 such pieces as Dearest May" Rosa Lee" Annie of the Vale" Nellie was
 Lady" and "Ellen Bayne" with won derful effect. These airs were melodi-
 ous and concordant, and often brought tears to the eyes of the audience. Joe
 Sweeney was above the medium "size,
 and of fine proportions. He had light
 hair and a ruddy complexion, He had wonderful facial powers. He could
 change his expression in a moment from grave to comic.
 Sweeney, as a negro delineator, was inimitable He knew the negro well
 and was perfectly natural, and, like
 Polk Miller, never overdid his work, One of his performances always eXci-
 ted applause. His old Virginia break
 down, a jig tune, he danced, and made
 his own music with his banjo hung
 around his neck with a string. Swee-
 ney was entirely uneducated; but he
 was naturally bright, and he often
 made smart local hits that brought
 down the house. Yes; the Dispatch"
 is right. Sweeney gave notoriety to
 the banjo and brought it into popular
 favor. His habits were improVident and he was the subject of many temp
 tations. He lived a life of upselfish generosity and died in poverty. He spent his last days in the county of Appomattox I have heard this story about him. I do not vouch for it's
 truth.
 Just before he died, while his mind wandered, he said to his sister; Come here. The old banjo Is out of tune, the screws are slipping and the bridge is about to fall" These were the last words of the old fellow who had charmed two continents with his mel ody and song. His brother Sam was in the cavalry service during the war, He often played for General Stuart, and the brave troopers would dance to his merry music as he sang:
 If you want happy time jine the cavalry"
 I never heard of him after the war. Joe Sweeney taught me how to tune my banjo and taught me the chords. I shall never forget my ecstatic pleasure when, under his guidance, I played:
 Reel the row, my true love; oh, come alongt my darling"
 Since the days of Joe Sweeney won- derful advances have been made in banjo music, and as well as he played, he could not be compared with such players as ShackelfoTd or the Davis brothers of Richmond They have gone away beyond him in variety and technical execution. In fact, the mode of playing has changed. I tdo not know but one man now who can give the real old Joe Sweeney touch, and that is Polk Miller. He can do it when he wants to. Tn my early days my banjo served me good turn.
 when I went to Princeton college I carried my banjo with me. No one had ever seen the instrument in the town. No one had ever heard a negro song I was the recipient or much hospitality and good-cheer. l cannot say that my banjo added anything to my scholastic proficiency. While at Princeton or ganized a minstrel troupe. In 1851 l took a long and tedious journey to the far-off state of Texas. l rode a mule two thousand miles, and mad my banjo strapped on my back.
 The old instrument often gave me g home and shelter at night II will re- call an incident. On a teAible, stormy day rode up to log shanty, covered with raw-hides. hallooed outside and after a while a woman came to the door and asked me what I wanted. l told her that I was 8 traveller and wanted shelter from the pitlless storm. In sharp voice she said: You can't stay here; the old man is gone up the river after pine-knots, and me and de child'en is all by ourselves; and you can't stay" I begged and implored and I thought there might be some tal- l ismanic power in the name Virginia. l As a final appeal I told her I was a | Virginia gentleman.
 "Oh" she said "go away with your | fool talk. The last man who stayed | here said he was from Virginia, and he | stole every spoon in the house"
 After while she saw my banjo and | she asked what it was. told her. | She said "Oh. yes. I will play for | you" She said: Come In and stay as ong as you want to. I aint herd no | music since I left Tennessee" The | next day I started on my lonely jour ley, with the promise that if I ever | ,ame that way I would call to see her, |
 In about six weeks I reached the | IulI or NeNlcO lO ldhG Lllt olVhAlcl lol New Orleans homeward bound. It was ! stormy night, and the boat could not make the landing. For several days I waited in the hotel at Post Lavacca. While there an incident occurred that made me give my first concert. poor Herman woman, with four little. chill lren. whose husband had fallen over ,oard on the voyage, was on the dock without money or friends The citizens .slSed me to give an entertainment for Ter benefit l consented to do so, The whole town turned out to hear me. We ninety dollars for the helpless tranger. The next morning l went to ee her and gave her the money, She rot down on her knees, and with treaming eyes she thanked me over md over again. I remember that wo- nan's face, though most half a century as passed away. That greeting of ,ratitude was the happiest moment of ny poor life.