The Bamberg herald. [volume] (Bamberg, S.C.) 1891-1972, 1922-01-05
Copyright 1921 by International
Maoazine COmpany,)

Eyes, sir, my names Jackson. You
waRtin' me?"
- explained that l was stranger
his part of South Carolina and
: Is trying to find out first-hand
could about cotton,
There amt goin' to be none this
year." my host explained, with a
brave attempt at smile. "Fhe boil
weevi1, he ct it all up, I got fifteen
bales off'n this here place last year
and won't get six hundred pounds
of seed cotton-that's jes' little oV-
ser one bale this year."
A years work gone for nothing, y
sympathized.
sWorse'n that. I'm OWN the store
1926 and I amt even got enough cot
ton to pay my rent with. Mr.. Boil
Weevil plum cleaned me out. I jes'
don't' know what to do or what way
to turn. I've owed the store mon
ey at the end of the year lots Of times
before but have always knowed that
me and my family could work little
harder the next year and ketch up.
But don't feel that way no more.
With the boil weevil here on us now
don't know how I'm even a-goin' to
make liVin', let alone pay off what
I owe. All my neighbors here is
jes' like am-don't know which way
TO turn. Me and my woman and all
the kids work hard as we ken and it
don't seem to do no good. We jes'
can't seem to get ahead.
One or two bashful, 'half-scared
children were peeking around the
corners OF the shanty by this time.
They looked poorly fed and badly
cared for.
How many children have you, Mr..
Jackson I asked in an apologize
tone.
aFour head livin' and five head
dead"
t.And your wife,"
..she's in there dressin' for to &C
to town"
"And do they help you in the
5 fields?'' I questioned.
'.All except the youngest -. They
got to-I couldn't begin to make even
my food of'n cotton If I didn't have
help
A boy of about fourteen, with fine
blacR eyes and q simple, honest look
about him, came out of the house at
this moment.
..Do you go to school?" I asked
him.
He blushed and shifted his weight
ST can't go very much, but go some
I'd like to go all the time but I got to
help
/ wanted to apologize for my In
sistency. I felt as If I were tearing
aside the veil from some precious Sc
cret. / thought OF my own little boy
and the children of my friends with
their education andN youth all la1o
out for them. It was part OF thei1
heritage part of their very destiny
And It should belong to every child
in this great, rich, hah-thought-ou1
land Of ours.
Won't Mrs. Jackson come out and
talk, too?" I asked.
He went to the door and called:
"Cindy! Cindy! You and May come
out for q minute"
We went on talking about the boil
weeyil and what its first year in the
central portion of South Carolina hat
done to one Of the great cotton-grow
ing states of the south. It wasn''
long before Mrs. Jackson and bash
full girl of about sixteen joined US
They were dressed in their Sunday
clothes-the mother in cheap blacl
sateen and the girl in stiff gingham
I don't think ever saw seen {
that showed more plainly the marks
of silent suffering, toll, hopelessness
failure, than that of this sweet, kind
Iy, broken mother. She was old ant
worn out at forty. She had borne
nine children, and seen five of then
die on account of medical inattentior
and undernourishment. And yet she
and her husband were Americans who
could boast of a half dozen genera
tions OF ancestors born in this land o.
opportunity and hope.
They were slaves as much as any
! slaves in the world-slaves to King
Cotton. They were chained to cottor
blows and hoes and picking bags