The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1898-04-02


our steps and reach the highway we see
clump of trees in field to our right,
They mark the graveyard where our grand
fathers colored people are buried that is
those who passed away in his time, for he
left all those who were alive, free at his
death. don't think that many OF their
descendants are laid there, although I do
remember of interments made there when
was a child. We begged the pl esent
owner OF the farm not to cut the trees
down on this spot as they will guard the
resting place Of the dead if left alone.
Now, as intend this sketch for my chill
dren, l must relate some incidents cor
nected with the old servants, as my father
related them to me. Among them was
'Pattle," woman eminenty pous and
devoted to grandfather. 1t was said that
the children asked her when she prayed
She replied: "Playing all the time, child
praying when l walk" 1t was no uncom-
mon scene at family prayer to have them
all shouting, the neishbors' servants would
hear them, and they would come running
over the hills and Join them and all would
shout together. When "Pattie" came to
die my aunts were about her bedside and
said: "We feel it privilege, Pattie, to he
here" She replied: "Wel you might,
misses, we'll you might, for the Master is
here" They were all very worthy family
OF colored people. | remember seeing
granddaughter of "Pattie's" once; she was
large fleshy woman with kind, good
face and so modest and respectful in her
manner, always courtesying when she came
in your presence.
But | must not forget we are on our way
to ''Old Fields Point to visit once more
the former home Of my old fri -nds We
drive up to the house, it is closed. 1t is
the first time those doors did not open to
me in kindly welcome. We pass around
to the river front and into the neglected
garden, and there blooming, bright and
beautiful, were some of the rose trees of
the ladies own planting. We 90 into a
clump of trees nearby. 1t is the family
barying place There they all lay to await
the resurrection morn The last was laid
there only few months ago. They tell us
a tenant has the farm, but the family are
away from home, for which we are sorry ,
for | knew him when he was small boy
and his wife was little girl named for me-
My boy fixed his camera for view while |
sat on the porch and watched the boats as
they sailed up and down the river. | be-
came lost in revere, the memories of the
past were marching in review before me-
The shades of evening were deepening
falling like the drop curtain after drama,
when suddenly bird hid in the branches
OF one OF the trees close to me, poured
forth lovely song OF such unearthly sweet
ness that thought can it be that the spirits
of the departed are sent to bid me welcome
to their old home!
Life and love that were Of yore,
o sad old house bereft,
To thee but r emorys treasured store,
And the little birds are left.
But there is another place that | must
take you to visit, where our kind friends
took us the next day. A small white
chapel Wesley in the woods tie first
church l ever knew, and my spiritual
home. When we drove up the congreg@-
ton had assembled for worship, beautiful
Sabbath day. l got out Of the carriA. e
and mingled with the people, a stranger.
There was but one Of the whole congrega-
ton who recognized me, and that ever
knew | had lived and worshiped there,
John Pryor (Possum jack The chapel
looks natural but so much smaller than it
did to my childish imagination. The tire, s
that surrounded, though larger grown,
looked familiar They seemed to be the
only friends left | looked for the tree
that | used to hitch my faithful horse
"Colie" to; it was gone. | could see her,
in my imagination, rubbing her head up
and down upon it and nibbling its bark;
perhaps that accounts for its early decay.
| enter the church and note some improve
ments. The old pulpit and uncomfortable
seat behind it have given way to more
modern one and comfortable settee there
was bright carpet on the floor and an
organ by the side of the altar. | took
seat near the window on the same old
wooden benches, save a coat of paint. 1t
was so serenely quiet outside, nothing but
the crckets' shrill chirp and the lazy buzz
ing of the bee could be heard, and as |
look ed out on the scrub oaks that grew by
the graveyard fence, it seemed so peculiar
that | could scarcely believe that it had
been so long since had looked upon that
scene.
The preacher came in, perfect stranger,
took his text and commenced his sermon.
unconsciously dropped into reverie, heard
his voice but understood not his words. l
saw in the vista Of the past sturdy little
country girl sitting on one Of the benches,
with her feet not touching the floor, the old
people seemed to troop back, could see
the dear old faces sitting in the amen
corner and could see the old-faShioned