I arrived in Washington early in the morning, and took breakfast with my friend Dr. Glenan. Here I found my brother, Harvey Smith, and his son, who were teaching freedmen's schools, and with them I spent the Sabbath, In the evening I attended the Colored Methodist Episcopal Church, and was invited to address the large meeting. I spoke half an hour, and told the history of Uncle Philip, and how, amidst the persecutions and sorrows to which his slave-life subjected him, he had kept his hand in the hand of his Savior all these ninety-seven years.
While speaking of his being whipped until he fainted, a few wept aloud, and after meeting a number came to tell me of their being whipped for praying. One woman was whipped until she fainted, and one man was kept in the stocks all night after being whipped, and came near dying. His master told him he "would whip the praying devil out of him," using the same words that Uncle Philip's master used to him.
The surgeon-in-chief, Dr. Reynolds, wished me to remain in Washington another day, and thought General Howard would permit me to stay there for a time, to engage in sanitary work. I had an interview with the general, who thought I was most needed in Washington, during the Winter season at least. He gave me authority to visit the free soup-houses, and investigate the sanitary work generally. After reading my commission, I told him I had a request to make, and that was that the authority with which I was vested, might be kept secret. To investigate to the best advantage was my object. I was also appointed to examine, as far as practicable, the condition of applicants for charity, and the manner in which the charity was applied. My office was furnished, and board was allowed me at the head-quarters of the freedmen's hospital in Campbell Camp.
On February eth I called at Josephine Griffin's relief office before 10 o'clock A. M. Between sixty and seventy persons called on her, mostly for work. I followed a number of the applicants for soup-tickets to their homes. In visiting twenty families during the day, I found a number of persona in squalid wretchedness. One man was very sick with a high fever, and unconscious. He had received no help, because unable to make personal application, and he had no family to intercede for him. His bed was a pile of rags in the corner on the floor. I called for the Bureau physician and saw that he had suitable bed-clothing and food. The physician said he must have died within two or three days in that condition. Among the applicants for relief was an Irishwoman, who had a brick house she was renting, except the back room, which she occupied, and had another nearly finished. She and her family for whom she was begging soup, lived in good style.
The fourth day of my investigations revealed great deficiency in properly looking after applicants for aid. The greatest sufferers were often too diffident to ask for help. The soup-houses were generally well managed. I called as one whom curiosity had drawn into the motley crowd, and was treated to a taste of fine soup, even at the "Savage Soup-house," where I saw two caldrons of soup. The one from which I was served might well tempt the palate of an epicure, but the other looked too forbidding for a human stomach. I soon found the good soup was being given to the white applicants, who were first served, while the colored people, standing in the yard, were waiting their time. Policeman Ross told a shivering colored man to go inside and put his pail on the farther block for soup.
"I shall be sent out," he replied.
"I tell you to go in," said the policeman; "I'll see to that."
He obeyed the order, only to receive curses: "You know better than to come yet; another thing you know, this soup is for white folks, the other is for niggers."
At this, Policeman Roes canoe in: "I have seen," said he, "fish made of one and flesh of another long enough. Here are women and children standing out on the ice and snow, waiting all this afternoon for you to serve the white people first. Another thing I'd like to know, why is this difference in the soup? That black stuff is hardly fit for pigs to eat, Mr. Savage, and you know it."
"Our citizens furnish material for this soup," replied he, "and our citizens shall have it."
"Doesn't General Howard furnish a hundred pounds of beef and two hundred loaves of bread each day? and on Saturday it is double. Another thing I'd like to know—are these not our citizens?" pointing toward the yard full of colored people.
"There are ten thousand too many of 'em, and it's none of your business; I shall do as I please."
"I will let you know; I shall make it my business to report you to
General Howard."
Mr. Savage poured out a horrid volley of oaths at him, adding that all his reporting would make no difference with him. One Irish woman received three loaves of bread, four quarts of soup, and a large piece of meat. After nearly all, both white and colored, were served, the lieutenant policeman left, but Mr. Ross remained until the end of the disbursing. I was tempted to cheer the policeman for his bravery, but thought silence the better part of valor.
When Aunt Chloe's "cl'arin' up time" was come, I took my departure. I saw the policeman standing near the gate, and said in low tone, as I passed out, "I thank you for your words."
"Stop; do you live here?" he said.
"Temporarily."
"Go slowly till I get my club, so I can catch up. I want to see you."
He soon overtook me, and inquired whether I was one of the visiting committee. I told him that I was authorized by General Howard to inspect the soup-houses. He asked whether I was going to report Savage "I am on my way," I said, "to the general's office for that purpose." "I will give you my name and number," he replied, "and will run to see the lieutenant of police, who will give his name and number for reference also; I'll overtake you by the time you reach Pennsylvania Avenue" And off he ran. As I wished to inspect the poor soup more thoroughly, I called at a cabin, the home of the poor man that the policeman compelled to go in and demand the good soup. I found his quart of excuse for soup, on the stove to cook the half raw bits of turnips and potatoes. I tasted of what the policeman said was hardly fit for pigs, and fully agreed with his assertion, for the man said it made them sick to eat it without cooking it over. This man had been sick with pneumonia, and his mother very sick with it at this time I hurried to the nearest grocery, where I bought crackers, sugar, rice, bread, tea, and mustard for a plaster to put on her side. The man had received only a slice of bread with his quart of soup, for the seven reported in his family, four of whom were sick.
When I reached the avenue, I met the policeman who had nearly run himself out of breath. He was delayed in hunting for the lieutenant, who sent word that he would call on the general to confirm my report if necessary, and gave his name and number. The result of the report was, that a notice was sent at once to Mr. Savage that there must be no difference in giving to the poor, either in quality or quantity at his soup-house, and that the difference mad between white and colored, as reported to him, could not continue. In reply, Mr. Savage denied having made any difference in his soup-house, and charged the reporter with being an arrant liar, and he also made the same statement in the Daily Chronicle.
I wrote a confirmation of my report, using his own words in connection with the remarks of policeman Ross, and took it to Dr. Reyburn, Burgeon-in-chief in the sanitary work. The doctor approved my statement, and wrote a few lines of preface himself. As I used Mr. Boss's name, I called on him, who also approved, and referred to the lieutenant of police, who was present; and both sanctioned my report. This was published in the Chronicle.
At this Savage raved, and swore he would arrest me for defamation. Neither did the policeman whose name I used as reference go unscathed. The chief of the police force requested Mr. Ross to see me and learn by what authority I was acting, as there seemed to be none indicated in my article in the Chronicle. Mr. Ross said the chief of police did not doubt my authority, but would like to know, if I had no objection. I presented my paper, with a request that the matter should be held as confidential, as I did not wish to make it public.
After reading the paper he said: "I think you are authorized to inspect the work of the whole of us; I see in this the whole field is included. Would you object to my taking this to the chief of police, if I bring it back within, an hour or two? We may in some cases render you assistance."
I had no objection, and he took it. I found their assistance in a few cases very important, as well as convenient. But with all the Savage threats, nothing was done, and not even a reference was made to the subject in either of the papers. Surgeon Reyburn told me, as he was passing a corner where a group of secessionists were discussing the subject quite freely, that one man said, "Why don't Savage do something about that soup-house affair, and not be a numb-head, and let that woman wind him around her finger like that?" Another said, "If I'd lied once over that old soup-house, I'd lie again, before I'd hold still and take all that" He changed his soup-house policy for a little while; but the complaints among secession friends and white customers caused him soon afterward to backslide.
Mr. Carpenter, treasurer of the Provident Aid Society, wrote a letter to George Savage that he thought might improve him. But Surgeon Reyburn sent for me, and requested me to prepare for running the Fourth Ward soup-house, as he had heard they were going to discharge George Savage. I called on Mr. Shepherd, the proper authority to discharge him. He said that in a week or two all the soup-houses would close for the season, and, as Savage had received letters that he thought he would improve by, he would release me from the task of running the soup-house. I therefore continued visiting and relieving the sick and suffering.
I met in my rounds Dr. Cook, who said there was a child frozen to death in Kendal Green Barracks, nearly two miles away. Neither the doctor nor myself knew who had charge there. I went, and found a child of ten months old that had chilled to death. The mother said hers was the fourth child in that row of cabins that had died; and that none of them were allowed more than two four-foot sticks of fire-wood for twenty-four hours. I called at the other cabins, and found them without fire, and all told the same story of lack of wood and no coal. There was neither bedding nor clothing enough among them all to make a single family comfortable. The mother of the dead child had been to see the superintendent of the poor of the city to get a coffin. With shoes but little better than none, she had waded through melting snow until her dress was wet four inches, at least, around the bottom. I inquired who the superintendent of this camp and barracks was, and they said, Major Thompson. I went to his head-quarters, but found that he and his family had gone to the Capital to learn how President Johnson's impeachment trial was likely to end. I repaired to General C. H. Howard's office, and reported the condition of these families. He sent me back in his ambulance, with fifty loaves of bread, a coffin for the dead child, and two quilts and a few blankets for the destitute, with instructions to give the bread, except one loaf to each of the four families I had visited, to Major Townsend, a man that I had met in the Sabbath-school he superintended. He was surprised to find those families under his care in such a condition. The general furthermore requested me to make a thorough investigation of Kendal Green Barracks and camp.
The following day I visited forty families, and found twelve sick, and not sufficiently supplied. I listened to many sad stories by a white man, who had been one of Major Townsend's police guards while he had charge of Campbell Camp, before I went to Washington. I was informed that the major had charged his two police guards to bring the woman that was interfering with his camp to his office till he returned, if she should come again in his absence. Although they were quite cross, they did not take me to the major's head-quarters, as I told them I was calling by request. The major had no more idea of who the intruder was than I knew who the superintendent was until I made my report to the general, when he informed me that it was not Thompson, but Major Townsend, to whom I had been introduced in a colored Sabbath-school. But as he knew by the supplies which I took to the families that they came from head-quarters, he called on General Howard, and from him learned who the inspector was, and he told the general he would aid me in calling on the poor who needed aid. While he spent most of the day in calling at my office and going to see the general, I was visiting the barracks.
For sundry misdemeanors while in office the major was relieved, and another appointed in his stead. Though I did not think he was the right man for the place, yet I felt sorry for his excellent family. His wife and two young lady daughters I had called on, and was much pleased with their self-sacrificing Christian spirit.
There was much excitement in Washington during a portion of May, on account of the impeachment and trial of President Johnson. At length, on the 16th of the month, the news spread that he was acquitted of the high charges made against him by the House of Representatives, and that his power was left uncurtailed. But he had turned his back upon our brave soldiers, who bled and died to save the nation's life, and made no serious effort to put an end to the Kuklux outrages in the Southern States. For this reason many demanded that he be removed from his office. With them his acquittal foreboded ill; but we hoped for the best.
Uncle Dodson, aged sixty-five years, a plantation preacher and a resident of Campbell Camp, caused great excitement when he found his long-lost wife and she found her long-lost husband. Twenty years before the husband and wife were torn apart by the unrelenting slave-master. Weeping and begging to be sold together, while kneeling at the master's feet, they were only answered by a kick and the lash. Now they met again. In the front yard the wife came running to him crying out, "O Ben Dodson, is dis you? I am your own Betty." And she clasped him closely. "Glory! glory! hallalujah! Dis is my Betty, shuah," he said, pushing her away to look at her face. "I foun' you at las'. I's hunted an' hunted till I track you up here. I's boun' to hunt till I fin' you if you's alive." And they both wept tears of joy. "Ah, Betty, we cried harder'n dis when da sole us apart down dar in Egyp'." And another, outburst of joy followed. They were soon happily living together in their own little cabin.
The old man had some queer Scripture quotations. One he recited in meeting twice before I had an opportunity of correcting him, and that was, "Adam called his wife's name Eve because she was the mother of all evil." As Uncle Dodson often wished me to read a chapter in their chapel meetings "an 'splain it to us," I took occasion to read the third chapter of Genesis, and when I read,
"Because she was the mother of all living," he called out "ebil, ebil, sistah Hab'lin." Uncle Dodson was learning to read, and could read easy words in the first reader. I placed the Bible before him and pointed to the word "living." "Dat is so in dis place," he acknowledged, "but it's some place in de Bible." "Father Dodson," I said, "I have read every word in this Bible a number of times, and there is no such sentence between the two lids that Adam called his wife's name Eve because she was the mother of all evil," and a smile ran through the entire congregation. I added that it was not a wonder that these poor people should misquote Scripture, as a few years ago many of them were not allowed to learn to read. At this three of that company testified to being punished severely for learning their letters of a little white boy. I told them it was a greater wonder that they had passed through such privations and retained as much intelligence as they possessed. "O yes, well do I 'member when I was punish' too," said another, "for tryin' to learn to read." Turning to a young exhorter sitting by him, Uncle Dodson said, "Brodder Davis, I've labored in de Gospel mor'n forty years wid de white ministers and wid de black ministers, an' I neber foun' one so deep in de Scriptur' as sistah Hablin." We continued our exercises with good satisfaction.
Another of Father Dodson's comforting passages was, "Blessed is the corpse that the rain falls on." If the departed one had left no other evidence of being, prepared for the great change, then a rain on the day of the funeral was sufficient. I found this was quite generally accepted as a sure evidence with many of them.
As I was passing through the hospital yard a number of the convalescents were in a group discussing the subject of charity, thinking that some one had been too harshly judged. Said one man, "Paul said faith, hope, and charity. An' de greates' of 'em all was char'ty. An' I knows what a bigger man nor Paul said, better man too."
"An' who dat, an' what he say?" rejoined another. "He say, 'Judge not an' ye shan't be judged.'" "An' who said dat?" "'T was George Washington."
On inquiry I found his parents lived many years in the vicinity of Mount Vernon, and probably the colored people heard George Washington repeat that text, and it was handed down among them as an original saying of the Father of his Country, in their minds a greater and better man than Paul.
While engaged in my work, as the weather became very warm, I often rested an hour or two in the capitol to listen to the many witnesses who testified to the awful condition of our soldiers at Andersonville Prison, under Henry Wirtz. At the statement made concerning his stabbing and shooting the soldiers for leaning against the "dead line," the guilty man, Wirtz, shook as he arose from the sofa upon which he was reclining, and swore "that was a lie;" but General Auger, the president of the court, told him that he had nothing to say, and bade him sit down, which he did with cursing in great excitement. I some-times spent two or three hours in listening to the tale of the heartless cruelties that unprincipled wretch had committed. One woman, whose son died in that prison, was listening one afternoon. She stood in the corridor, and as he passed with his guards for the ambulance, which was to bear him back to the prison, she followed with her best weapon, a large umbrella. This she nimbly used, thrusting the pointed end into his side or back, or wherever she could hit him, saying, "You rascal, you villain, you murderer, you murdered my son in Andersonville." Her thrusts were in such quick succession that he begged the guards to protect him; but they did not interfere with the bereaved woman until they got the prisoner into the ambulance.
While I did not feel like following her example because of his murdering my cousin, yet I told General Auger that it was well for Henry Wirtz that his case was not tried by mothers and sisters of the thousands who had suffered and died under his cruelties. Said the general, "I do not know but it would be the best thing for him if mothers and sisters were his judges." But if they were the ones to give the decision, justice and mercy would never kiss each other over him. I never was an advocate of capital punishment, but I must acknowledge I did feel at times, while listening to Henry Wirtz's trial, that I would like to see that tiger in human form take a hemp swing. But when at last he received his sentence and swore he "always thought the American Eagle was a d—- buzzard," I had no desire to mingle with the multitude to witness the execution, though he well deserved the execration of all.
On May 14th I received a note from Mrs. Edgerton, stating that a peremptory order from Rev. J. R. Shipherd, secretary of the American Missionary Association at Chicago, had been received, to close the asylum immediately. From her note I learned that this was the day for the auction sale of the asylum personal property. I was confident that forty or fifty little folks could not at once be properly situated in compliance with such an order, and wrote J. R. Shipherd a proposition, reminding him of his verbal pledge and proposed terms on which we could reopen the asylum for all for whom no suitable homes might be found. I also wrote an appeal to Rev. Geo. Whipple, of the New York Division, and sent with it a copy of the proposition I had made to J. R. Shipherd. I received in reply a request to remit to that division the reply I should receive from J. R. Shipherd, or a copy, by the first mail, for they thought my proposition would be accepted. I wrote them they should have whatever reply I might receive from J. R. Shipherd, but I did not look for any word whatever from him. In the mean time I received a letter from Adrian informing me that four of the little children were already in the county poor-house, and that others would soon be taken there, that four of the younger ones were left in the streets of Adrian to find their own homes among colored people, and that four were left with a poor colored family who were promised pay for keeping them until other homes could be found. Four more were also left with a white family in Palmyra, with the promise of pay until other arrangements were made. One little girl of ten years was left with a woman of ill-fame and of drinking habits, and the little girl had been seen drunk.
I wrote to Rev. E. M. Cravath, secretary of the Middle Division, at Cincinnati, and to Levi Coffin, and learned in reply that eight of the little children were found one morning sitting on the stone steps of the office of the American Missionary Association, with a note in the hand of the oldest, aged ten or eleven years, the purport of which was, "These children were sent by you to the asylum near Adrian, Michigan. It has closed. You must take care of them." They said that Mrs. Edgerton brought them from the asylum, and sent them here in the express wagon. The office being locked, the driver left them on the steps at 6 o'clock A. M. As they had eaten nothing during the night, Levi Coffin furnished them with food, while Rev. E. M. Cravath went to the colored orphan asylum of the city, and made arrangements by paying the board of managers one hundred dollars for their admittance. The letter from Levi Coffin contained the following queries: "What ails Michigan, that she can not care for thirty or forty of these poor little homeless orphans, when we have had a few thousands to look after in this great thoroughfare? Where is the Christianity and philanthropy of your great State, to send these children back to us, who took them from those crowded camps, where there was so much suffering and dying, for the purpose of their being properly trained, and fitted for usefulness, amid humane surroundings?" They soon found the whys and wherefores in my letter and appeal to allow the asylum to be reopened.
After writing a number of letters to the New York Division, containing a full account of the condition of the children, and sending them a copy of the letter from Adrian, I inquired whether as a Christian body they could allow these children over whom they had assumed control, and for whom they were responsible, to be turned out into the streets, to be lodged in the county poor-house, and to be left in the house of ill-fame, and appealed to them as Christian men to make some suitable arrangements for them. Their reply was: "We can not afford to allow this condition of those children. We have not received a communication in this office that has produced the deep feeling that your last letter has. We have telegraphed Mr. Shipherd to dispose of nothing more connected with that asylum. How long would it be before it could he reopened, should we replace it in the hands of its friend?" I answered, "It shall be re-opened as soon as I receive official authority from your association to do it, and I will resign my position in this work." In reply to this, the Rev. Mr. Smith, a member of the New York Division, came to Washington and authorized me to secure a part of the asylum building, and reopen it for the children that were in improper houses. I secured a pass by way of Cincinnati, in accordance with the request of Levi Coffin and Rev. E. M. Cravath, of the Middle Division. They had secured good homes for two of the children. I took the others home.
The secretaries and a few other members of the three divisions met in Oberlin to consider further concerning the asylum that had been so unwisely closed. At the close of this consultation I received a letter from Mr. Whipple, of New York, in which he stated that there was much sympathy expressed for me in behalf of the asylum by all except Mr. Shipherd, who said he had done nothing of which I or any one else had any right to complain. He was ordered to return twenty-three boxes and packages of asylum goods to me, as I was acting under their orders in reopening the home; and they sent me fifty dollars for supplies. I gathered in between twenty-five and thirty children that had previously belonged to the home, and bought back what furniture I could that had been sold at a great sacrifice. The corporation appointed me general superintendent of the asylum, and engaged me to devote my whole time to it.
Although to provide means to carry it on was no small task, yet the burden to me seemed light compared with its importance. It had cost great anxiety and effort to accomplish what we had already done. I secured a horse, repaired the buggy, and employed our soldier, Charlie Taft, whose health was much impaired from service in the army. He offered to spend the Winter with us, and render what assistance he could, for his board. Just now our prospects were brighter than at any period since Raisin Institute was converted into a home for harmless little people, to train for useful citizens, instead of tramps, or inmates of prisons.
But, alas! we were doomed to a heavy draft upon our faith. After a very busy day of measuring, cutting, and fitting garments for the little ones, I went in haste to place a bundle of patches in the box in the hall room. It was now dark twilight, and I mistook the cellar door for that of the hall. Passing through, I fell headlong seven feet against the corner of a hard-wood beam. I received many bruises, and the concussion fractured both the inner and outer layers of the left temporal bone, and severed the temporal artery. I was taken up insensible, and it was supposed that life was extinct; but in a few moments signs of life appeared, and a physician was immediately sent for. Great consternation prevailed among the children, and much sympathy was expressed, as well as many prayers offered by them in my behalf.
Brother Smart, pastor of the Methodist Episcopal Church in Adrian, was then holding a series of meetings; and being told of the accident at the evening meeting, he said: "Elder Jacokes informs me that sister Haviland is supposed to be in a dying state from a dangerous fall in the orphan asylum this evening. I propose to pursue my subject no further, but to turn this meeting into a season of prayer for her restoration, if in accordance with the Lord's will; if not, that her mantle may fall upon another, to carry forward that enterprise. The Lord can hear and answer here as readily as by her bedside." He then led in fervent supplication, followed by a few others. Said a friend present: "The announcement fell upon us like an electric shock, and I never heard brother Smart, or those who followed, pray with such power. Then brother Bird arose and said, 'I feel confident that we shall have an answer to our prayers, that sister Haviland will be restored or another take her place.'"
My dear sister in Christ, Elizabeth L. Comstock, was at that time laboring in the Master's vineyard in Chicago. Hearing of the accident by means of the telegram sent to my daughter residing in that city, she mentioned it at the Moody noon prayer-meeting, and requested prayer for my restoration, if it were the Lord's will. I was made the subject of prayer also at Pittsford Wesleyan Methodist protracted meeting.
A letter came from Rev. E. M. Cravath, of Cincinnati, addressed to me. In answer, my daughter, L. J. Brownell, wrote that "mother is unconscious from a dangerous fall, and we (her children) are earnestly praying for her restoration. If our Heavenly Father sees meet to grant our petition, you will receive a reply from her when practicable." The immediate reply was: "You may rest assured our All-wise Father will restore your mother if he has further work for her to do. You may also be assured that her friends in this city are uniting in prayer with her children for her recovery."
I was so nearly conscious at one time that I heard some one say, "She will never speak again." The thought struck me forcibly that I was going to get well, and yet I had no sense of being ill. But I reflected that my children must be very sad at the thought of giving me up, and I would try to say, "I am going to get well." With all the effort I could command I could not utter a syllable. Then I tried to see if my children were present; but I seemed to be in a pure, soft, white cloud, such as we sometimes see floating in the ethereal blue, where I could discover no countenance of those moving around my bed. Consequently I gave over the effort, and was again lost to all consciousness until three days and nights had passed. Then the first returning consciousness was the passing away of that beautiful white cloud, and I recognized my three daughters standing before me. One of them said, "Mother looks as if she knew us." Why, yes, I thought, they are my daughters; but what are their names? and what is my name? Then I surveyed the room. The papered wall, maps, pictures, and furniture all looked familiar; but where am I? Am I in some large city, or in a country place? I am advanced in years; and what have I done in all my life? But I could recall nothing.
While in this mental soliloquy, it came to me what my name was, and that this was the orphan asylum.
"Do you know me, mother?" said my daughter Jane.
It was a matter of reflection before I could utter the word "yes," and then a study to give her name. At length I pronounced it. Another daughter made the same query, and I had the answer, "yes," ready, but it seemed a hard study again to recollect the name Mira. The same effort brought to my lips the name of Esther when she addressed me.
"Don't have the least anxiety or care," she said, "about this orphan asylum, for the friends have brought gram, flour, meal, meat, and groceries in abundance." O what a relief these words brought! Surely the Lord is the Father of the fatherless.
After studying for words I said, "What is the matter?" for I felt that my head was very sore, and my face swollen. When told that I had fallen down cellar and was badly hurt, I was surprised, for I could recall nothing of the fall. After calling to mind the various residences of my daughters, and words to inquire how they knew of the accident, I was told that my son-in-law telegraphed them. At length I reached the conclusion that I became stunned by the bruise on my head, and fell asleep and slept my senses all away, and that was the reason I did not know any thing. I thought, must I learn to read again? Shall I ever know any thing? How sad it will be not to know how to read or do any thing; but I will leave all in the hands of the dear Savior. They gave me medicine that I knew I had taken. Did I not take this an hour ago? "O no, mother, not since yesterday." What day of the week is to-day? "Monday." Then to-morrow will be Tuesday. "Yes." I have got so far, I will remember that, thought I. Again another dose of medicine was given. Did I take this yesterday? "You took this two hours ago." It is certain that I do not know any thing. How sad it will be when I get well of this hurt (as I had no doubt but I should) and not know any thing. But, then, the second thought of leaving it with the Lord was a resting-place. But consciousness was gradually restored. The next day my son Daniel came; but he did not dare to approach the front door, fearing that a tie of crepe on the knob would be the first to tell him the sad story of his mother's departure He was met at the back door by his three sisters, one of whom informed him of a faint hope of my recovery, as there was evidence of returning consciousness.
A day later the fourth daughter, Anna H. Camburo, arrived. I was thus permitted to meet all my children save one, whose infant son had died the day after the news reached him of my fall. But as the children daily informed their brother Joseph of increasing hope of my recovery, he, of my six children, was the only absent one. Through their tender care and the blessing of God, in answer to many earnest prayers, I was spared to toil on a few years longer. To him alone be all the praise! My Savior never seemed nearer.
It was January, 15, 1869, when I fully realized that consciousness was restored. I renewed my entire consecration to the service of my Lord and Master. All was peace and quiet within. The inmates of the asylum, between twenty-five and thirty, were so quiet that it seemed as if no more than my own children were moving around me. During the second week, through my dear friend Elizabeth L. Comstock, seventy-five dollars was sent to us from friends in Chicago. A few days later thirty dollars came from the same city. The fourth week after the fall I was removed to my home in the city of Adrian, accompanied by my five children, three of whom then returned to their homes. In four months I had so far recovered as to be able to do moderate asylum work, and in one year I solicited and received one thousand dollars for the asylum, aside from the means sent during my inability to labor. This kept the asylum in supplies, we hardly knew how, only as it came from the Father of the fatherless. Within ten days after my arrival at home I received three checks of fifty dollars each from the Cincinnati Branch of the American Missionary Association, from the Friends' Sabbath-school, in Syracuse, New York, and from John Stanton, Washington, D.C.
In all this severe trial I had no regrets in making this scheme another specialty in my life-work. I visited nine county poor-houses, learning the number of children in each, and noting their condition, with the view of reporting to our next Legislature. In three of the county houses were girls, half idiotic, who had become mothers. In one there were twenty children of school-age, sent to school four hours each day. As I followed the matron through the dormitory and other parts of the house, I saw by the filthy appearance of the sheets and pillows, as well as a want of order generally, a great need of system. As I was about to leave I remarked to the matron, "You have many unpleasant tasks to perform here."
"La me, I guess we do," she said.
"You have plenty of vermin to deal with, I suppose?"
"Indeed we do. You can scrape up quarts of 'em."
I added her testimony to my report. Then, after visiting many of the infirmaries on April 6th, I attended meetings of our county supervisors and superintendent of the poor. I reported our work, and presented an order for dues for the previous month. Having arranged my monthly report, I presented it to the monthly meeting of our asylum association.
I retired weary, and awoke to see Dr. Pearsall about to leave my room. He was giving directions to my two anxious daughters. To my surprise my son-in-law remarked, "Mother is so much better, I will return home." Here was a mystery I was unable to solve, and I insisted on knowing why the doctor was there, now nearly 2 o'clock in the morning. I was informed that I had suffered an attack of apoplexy. I was not the least startled, but told them if I had had a fit of that character, I was liable to go at any time, and I wished to say a few things and then I would sleep: If I should be taken away in an unconscious state for them not to have the least uneasiness about me, as my way was clear. I wished my children to live nearer the Savior, and meet their mother in a fairer clime than this, and I requested them to tell my dear absent children the same. I then directed how my little effects should be divided among my six children, and rested well in sleep until the usual hour of waking, and was able to dress in the afternoon.
Within ten days I rode to the asylum, made arrangements to rent the land of the asylum farm for the coming season, and wrote to brother G. A. Olmstead to take my place in looking after its interests for a few months, as my physicians told me it was unsafe for me to continue mental labor, and I must rest at least six months. This was another heavy drawback upon our faith and work, as we had designed to circulate our petition during the remainder of the year, so as to have it ready to present to the next Legislature. Rev. G. A. Olmstead undertook the work of soliciting, and kept the asylum comfortably supplied until his health failed. Then a devoted and self-sacrificing sister, Catharine Taylor, took the field, while I spent six months visiting my children. The severest prescription I ever took from physician, was to think of nothing. But I succeeded admirably, and spent much time in drawing bits of clippings and rags of diverse colors through canvas, making domestic rugs for each of my children. I called upon various physicians, who gave it as their opinion that I could safely accomplish one-fourth of my former work, but I did not even reach that amount of labor. In a little over a month's work, with a petition to the Legislature in my pocket, and at the home of Anson Barkus and wife, I was taken with another midnight fit, and was much longer unconscious than before, but I returned home the following afternoon, accompanied by brother Backus. Twenty-five miles ride on the car and a mile in the hack did not improve the strange pressure in my head. Within a week I had five terrible spasms, lasting at times from five to twenty minutes; during consciousness I was not able to speak a word. When I appeared more comfortable, and my head more natural, greater hopes of my recovery were entertained by my physician and children.
I thought these fits were faintings; for I felt as if I had waked out of sleep each time. But the purple fingernails on the last day led me to suppose that I would die in one of these faints. Between the fits I most earnestly prayed that, if it was the Lord's will, I might be restored to work for him a little longer; but, if otherwise, I would praise him still for taking me over the beautiful river. O what a mistake to call it a dark, deep river, when it is only a bright, rippling stream, just across which all is peace and joy for evermore! This was the constant breathing of my soul all day; and it vividly flashed upon my mind that fifteen years were added to Hezekiah's life in answer to prayer. This prayer, followed by these words, ran through my mind during all that happy day. Can death, that is called the last enemy, look pleasant? It did look pleasant to me. Praise filled my soul.
That day will never be forgotten as long as memory and reason endure. In the evening I slept three minutes, they said, by the watch, and when I awoke I could talk as easily as ever. From that day I improved in health. These spasms were caused by the pressure of blood in reopening the temporal artery, or forcing its way through a new channel. I again received the tenderest of nursing on the part of my four daughters, and praise is due only to him who is the prayer-hearing God. With the fervent prayers of that memorable day come the words of the poet:
"'Tis a glorious boon to die,
A favor that can't be prized too high,"
because of an abundant entrance to be administered to us into the glorious mansions prepared by our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.
CHAPTER XVIII.
PRESENT CONDITION OF THE FREEDMEN.
Our investigations have proved to the friends of the former slaves that their emigration from the South was not instituted and put into operation by their own choice, except as the force of circumstances, in their surroundings, pressed them into this remarkable movement. Monthly reports of the Kansas Freedmen's Relief Association have also proved satisfactory to thousands of donors toward their relief. The increasing intelligence among the four millions and a half of slaves, declared free by the nation's pen in the hand of her President, Abraham Lincoln, they found did not bring with it the glorious sunlight of freedom the proclamation promised in its dawn. After fifteen years of patient hoping, waiting, and watching for the shaping of government, they saw clearly that their future condition as a race must be submissive vassalage, a war of races, or emigration. Circulars were secretly distributed among themselves, until the conclusion was reached to wend their way northward, as their former masters' power had again become tyrannous. This power they were and are made to see and feel most keenly in many localities, a few incidents will show.
Elder Perry Bradley left Carthage, Leek County, Mississippi, in
January, 1880, and testifies to the following facts:
"In October, 1879, twenty-five or thirty masked men went into Peter Watson's house, and took him from his bed, amid screams of 'murder' from his wife and seven children; but the only reply the wife and children received at the hands of the desperadoes was a beating. Their boy of twelve years knocked one down with a chair. While the fighting was going on within, and in their efforts to hold their victim outside, he wrenched himself from their grasp—leaving his shirt in their hands—and ran through the woods to my house, around which colored men gathered and protected him. Although twelve gun-shots followed him in the chase, yet none hit him. By the aid of friends he took the first train he could reach, which, to his surprise, took him twenty-five miles southward, instead of in a northern direction. At Cassiasca, Attala County, Mississippi, not knowing whether they were friends or foes, he told them he wanted to go to Kansas. They told him he should swear that he could not make a living there, before they would allow him to go North. As he found they were all Democrats at that depot, he consented to their demand; consequently they brought the Bible, and he took his oath 'that he could make a living there, but could not get it.' The Democratic 'bull-dozers,' who had sworn they would hang him if they ever caught him, took his span of horses, wagon, three cows, and his crop of cotton, corn, sugar-cane, and potatoes (all matured), and gave his wife money with which to pay the fare for herself and seven children, the twenty-five miles on the cars to meet her husband. The colored men were told 'that if they would be Democrats they could stay; but Republicans and carpet-baggers could not live there.'
"Austin Carter, a Methodist preacher, was an earnest temperance worker, and was prospering in that part of his work. He was also a strong Republican. He was shot dead in August, 1878, near New Forest Station, Scott County, Mississippi, on the railroad running east and west between Jackson and Meridian, Mississippi, while on his way home, between the hours of six and seven o'clock P. M. He received four shots in the back of his head, which instantly took his life. His wife and children knew nothing of it until the shocking tidings reached them the following morning. Thomas Graham, a wealthy merchant at Forest Station, reported that the man who shot him had gone to Texas and could not be found or heard from; and nothing was done to find the murderer or to bring him to justice."
Elder Perry Bradley was told by a number of this class of Democrats, at various places where he was accustomed to preach, that he could not live there and preach unless he would vote the Democratic ticket and teach his people to do the same. Said he, "In the town of Hillsboro, at one of my meetings, the bulldozers came into the congregation and took me out of the meeting, held in a school-house one mile from Hillsboro, on April 15, 1879, at ten o'clock P. M., where I had preached during our day meetings without disturbance. Captain Hardy, leading the band, took me into the woods to an old deserted house, in which was their general or chief commander, Warsham, who asked the following question: 'Will you stop preaching to your people that Christ died to make you all free, body, soul, and spirit?' 'I can not stop preaching God's truth as I find it in the Bible,' was my answer. 'I want you to understand now that you can't preach such doctrine to our niggers,' was the rejoinder. He then directed them to give me two hundred lashes. They took me out in the front yard and drove four stakes in the ground, to which each wrist and foot was fastened. After being disrobed of my clothing and fastened, face downward, two men were selected to do the whipping, one on each side, alternating their strokes, while the rabble stood around until the two hundred lashes were given. Then they were told to stop and let me up. Too weak and trembling to stand, I was again queried whether I would not now preach the Democratic doctrine and vote that ticket? I replied, 'I can not conscientiously make such a promise.' 'Why not? 'Because I do not believe there are Democrats in heaven.' Said their general, Warsham, 'We'll turn him loose with this brushing; may be he'll conclude to behave himself after this.' Turning to me he said, 'Remember, this is but a light brushing compared with what you'll get next time; but well try you with this.' I returned to my home with my back cut in many deep gashes, the scars of which I shall carry to my grave. Yet I praised God in remembrance that my loving Savior suffered more than this for me, and that this suffering was in his cause. As soon as I was able to continue my work for my Lord and Master among my people I was again enabled to proclaim the riches of his grace. A few weeks after resuming my work I preached on the Dan. Lewis' place, in Scott County, where I had held meetings undisturbed. But the same company sought me out, and took me out of an evening meeting into the woods about three miles distant to hang me. After due preparations were made they passed their whisky around, of which they all drank so freely that in their carousings they got into a fight, and while drawing pistols at each other young Warsham, the acting captain, in whose charge I was left, cut the rope that bound my hands behind me, and told me to 'go.' And gladly I obeyed the order and left them engaged in their fight and too drunk to notice my escape. I left that land of darkness as soon as possible for this free Kansas, and I have my family with me, for which I thank my Deliverer from the jaws of the lion of oppression, and praise the Lord of hosts for a free country, where I can vote as well as preach according to the dictates of my own conscience without the torturing whip or the hangman's rope."
Professor T. Greener, of Howard University, Washington, D. C., who has been prominently identified in the new exodus lately returned from a trip to Kansas, where he visited the colored colonies, and gathered information regarding the black emigrants. He reports them as doing well, constantly receiving accessions to their numbers, and well treated by their white neighbors. He says: "Indications point to a continuance of emigration during the Winter, and increase in the Spring, not in consequence of any special effort on the part of those who favor this solution of the vexed Southern question, but because the emigrants themselves are proving the best agents and propagandists among their friends South." Professor Greener is warm in his praise of Governor John P. St. John and the people of Kansas.
A staff correspondent of the Chicago Inter-Ocean, writing from Topeka, Kansas, December 31, 1879, says: "During four weeks' travel through the State, I estimate the number of colored emigrants at fifteen, or twenty thousand. Of these one-fifth probably are able to buy land, and are making good progress at farming. Most of the others have found, through the Freedmen's Relief Association, places as laborers, and are giving good satisfaction; and in no county are they applying for aid, nor are burdens upon corporate charities. The demand for laborers seems stretched to its fullest capacity, as the accumulation of refugees at the barracks (now nearly seven hundred), for whom no places can be found, clearly indicates. Judging from what I learn from the refugees themselves, and from the increasing numbers, now from twenty-five to fifty arriving every day, we predict that the movement to Kansas will soon assume such proportions as to astonish the country, and unless the tide can be turned, or the charity of the North be more readily bestowed, the suffering which the relief committee, although laboring faithfully with the means at their command, has not been entirely sufficient to relieve during the past cold weather, will soon be turned to general destitution and great suffering among the pauper refugees."
The greatest crime in many portions of the South is being a Republican. This has added largely to the emigration, and the tide has reached not only Kansas, but the older States of the North. It has entered Indiana, Ohio, and Illinois, and soon will find its way into Wisconsin, Iowa, and Michigan. We find no political chicanery of the North in this universal uprising of the colored people of the South in leaving the home of their birth. But it is the mistaken policy of the South that is driving their laborers northward; that is, compelling them to flee to more congenial surroundings. It is among the wonders that they waited so long and so patiently for the better day to come. Not long ago one thousand arrived in Parsons, Kansas, in the south-western part of the State. Governor St. John gave them a temperance speech with other good advice. Two hundred and twenty-five arrived in Topeka, and while I was at the barracks over seventy came in from Texas. Hardly a day passed while I was there but we heard of fresh arrivals. Eleven wagon-loads came into Parsons, and two of the men came to Topeka and reported the condition of many of them as very poor. We relieved within three weeks over one thousand persons.
The crime of being a Republican, in many portions of the South, is shown by the following testimonies. I interviewed an intelligent colored man, John S. Scott, of Anderson County, South Carolina. He came well recommended as a well qualified teacher. He had taught twenty-eight terms of school in South Carolina and six terms in Georgia; but if he succeeded in collecting half his pay he did well. He handed me a package of certificates and commendations. His friends were about to run him for office, but his life was threatened, and he was informed that they were determined to have a "white man's government," and gave him to understand that if he got the office, his life would be worthless.
Abbeville district, in that State, was Republican, and John Owen was an influential colored Republican. During the election he was arrested and placed in jail, under the charge of selling forty-eight pounds of twisted tobacco without license. When arraigned before the court it was proved that he had no such article, yet they fined him fifty dollars. He had raised tobacco, but it was still in the leaf. The fine was paid, and after the election he was released.
In the Seventh Congressional District, on Coosa River, September 24, 1877, a white man by the name of Burnam offered to purchase a small cotton farm near his, owned by a colored man, and offered him forty dollars for it. The owner replied, "I will sell to no man for that amount." Nothing more was said on the subject, and the colored man purchased a few pounds of bacon of Burnam and left for home. As he had to pass a little skirt of woods, Burnam took his gun, crossed the woods, and came out ahead of the colored man and shot him dead! He remained at his home two weeks, when the excitement over the cold-blooded murder became unpleasant for him, and he left the neighborhood, and had not returned in March, 1878, the date my informant left the country. The murdered man was a Republican.
Sanford Griffin was an honorably discharged soldier, and he testified that Columbus Seats was shot dead by Frank Phillips, in Clarksville, Tennessee. Griffin made an effort to have the murderer arrested, but failed. No difference was known to exist between them, except on the subject of politics. Seats was a Republican, and could not be induced to vote the Bourbon ticket.
In the autumn of 1878 Vincent Andersen was brought into Clarksville, Montgomery County, Tennessee, at eleven o'clock A. M. The following night a mob took him out of jail and hanged him on a locust tree on the Nashville Pike, near Clarksville. This case Griffin made an effort to bring before the court, but failed. The jailer, Perkins, said the men who brought Anderson to the jail, came in the night, and having overpowered him, forcibly took the jail key. But a girl of thirteen years testified that she saw the men in conversation with the jailer, and was confident they paid him money. Vincent Anderson had purchased ten acres of land, and had paid every installment promptly, and was on the way to the railroad station to make his last payment, when the mob took him to jail, until the darkness of night favored their wicked purpose of taking his life. He could not be prevailed upon to vote the Bourbon ticket.
One more incident this intelligent ex-Union soldier gave to which he was a witness: A young white woman, Miss Smith, purchased a pistol and remarked, "I am going to kill a nigger before the week is out." During that week her father and Farran, a colored man, had a dispute, but Farran had no thought of any serious result from it. But as Lydia Farran, the wife of the colored man, was on her way to the field to help her husband, Miss Smith, the white girl of eighteen or twenty years of age, took the pistol she had purchased a day or two previously, and followed Lydia and shot her dead! She left two little children, then a colored family got to their distracted father, who escaped for his life. He had not known of any difficulty between his wife and Miss Smith, or any other of the family, and could attribute the cool calculating murder of his wife to no other cause than the little difference of opinion that was expressed a few days previous to the fatal deed! Sanford Griffin succeeded in bringing this case before the court. But the charge of the judge to the jurors was, "You must bear in mind that Miss Smith was the weaker party, and if the shooting was in self-defense, it would be justifiable homicide." The jury so returned their verdict, and the case was dismissed.
The Freedmen's Aid Commission in Kansas relieved the wants of many of these refugees from the South; but the number of colored people was so great that, until they could find places to work for others or for themselves, the Commission had difficulty to care for them. A circular letter was issued, appealing to the friends of the cause for help. To this letter, sent out in December, 1879, these few telling words, from our dear friend and Christian philanthropist, Elizabeth L. Comstock, were added: "The treasury is nearly empty; city and barracks very much crowded; refugees coming in faster than we can care for them; money urgently needed for food, fuel, and medicine, and also to provide shelter." We take pleasure in announcing that our appeals from time to time met with responsive chords in many hearts, and relief was sent to the perishing.
It is needless to speak further of the causes for emigration, so clearly set forth in the foregoing facts; but we give a late one, which in its section of country caused considerable anxiety and stir among this oppressed people. About the close of July an article appeared in the Mercury, edited by Colonel A. G. Horn, at Meridian, Mississippi, in which occurs the following: "We would like to engrave a prophecy on stone, to be read by generations in the future. The negroes in these States will be slaves again or cease to be. Their sole refuge from extinction will be in slavery to the white man." Do not forget, dear reader, that though ignorant, as a large majority of ex-slaves are, yet their children read these sentiments, which are more outspoken than that which characterizes Southern Democracy; yet re-enlivened treason is nevertheless the true sentiment and ruling power of many places in ex-slave States. It is so accepted by the negroes, who, to avoid extinction or slavery, seek refuge amid physical and pecuniary hardships. Indeed, this exodus from the South, is not ended—a move for freedom is not easily extinguished.
To aid the reader fully to understand the needs of these poor people in the southern portion of Kansas, I insert an appeal of a constant and self-sacrificing worker for them, Daniel Votaw, of Independence, Kansas: "It appears that the southern portion of this State is having a larger share of emigrants than any other part of it. For this reason I ask the philanthropist to send aid quickly. I believe clothing will come; but who will send money to buy bread? Most of them say, 'Just give corn-bread, and we are satisfied.' I have never seen nor heard so much gratitude come from any people as flows from the hearts of these poor colored refugees. Our granaries are full, our groceries groan with the weight of provisions; but these sufferers have nothing to buy with. My blood almost runs chill when I remember that there are two excessive luxuries used by persons who call themselves men, that would, if rightly applied, fill this crying bill of want; namely, tobacco and whisky. Come, erring brothers, to the rescue. Can you not donate these expenses to this good cause? Do it, and Heaven will bless you. Those who may send provisions, clothing, or money, will get a correct account, if a note of donor or shipper is found inside the package, to enable us to respond with a correct receipt."
I have a letter from a colored man in Mississippi, addressed to Governor John P. St. John, which he turned over to me to answer. I give an extract: "Please advise me what to do. The white men here say we have got to stay here, because we have no money to go with. We can organise with a little. Since the white people mistrust our intentions, they hardly let us have bread to eat. As soon as we can go on a cheap scale, we are getting ready to leave. Some of us are almost naked and starved. We are banding together without any instruction from you or any aid society. We are all Republicans, and hard-working men, and men of trust We have to keep our intention secret or be shot; and we are not allowed to meet. We want to leave before the matter is found out by the bulldozers. There are forty widows in our band. They are work-women and farmers also. The white men here take our wives and daughters and serve them as they please, and we are shot if we say any thing about it and if we vote any other way than their way we can not live in our State or county. We are sure to leave, or be killed. They have driven away all Northern whites and colored leaders. A little instruction from you will aid the committee greatly in our efforts in getting away. Hoping to hear from you soon in regard to the request, we remain, Very truly yours," etc.
The foregoing from which I purposely omit the name and address of the writer is a sample of many hundreds of letters received by Governor St John. Many of them he placed in our hands to reply. But neither the governor nor our association could do any thing to bring these poor people to Kansas. Our sole object is to relieve them after their arrival. Consequently, it is but little encouragement we could give these sorrowing hearts as to any preparations for leaving that poisoned land. One family told us "We were compelled to lay our plans in secret, and we left our bureau and two large pitchers standing in our cabin and took a night boat." What a misnomer to call our former slave States "free!"
The cry has been, "The sooner Northern carpet-baggers leave the South, the better for them, and the sooner the nigger finds his proper place, and keeps it the better for him." The following incidents will serve as data from which we have a right to judge of the manner used to bring the colored people into what they deem their proper place. But they are becoming too intelligent to endure subjugation when they can evade it by flight.
Robert Robinson on the road between Huntsville, Alabama, and Cold Springs hired a colored man for three months, and he called at his store for his pay "All right," said Robison, "step back and we'll look over the books and pay you." After entering the room the door was locked, and Robinson placed a pistol at his head, while his brother beat him with a pine club, which disabled him from labor for three weeks. This was his pay.
Giles Lester was taken to jail, and was in the hands of Bailiff Dantey. A mob of fifteen or twenty men took him out on Friday night, to a piece of woods, and hanged him—not so as to break his neck at once; but they were three hours in beating him to death. A white man living near by said he never heard such cries and groans of agony in all his life as during those three hours. These atrocities were committed within two years past.
During the Mississippi riot that fiercely raged during 1875-6, the object of which was to secure a solid Democratic vote at the presidential election, innocent men, without the shadow of provocation, were hauled out of their houses and shot, or hanged; and no legal notice was taken of the murderers, for they were men of property and standing. General J.R. Chalmers was a leader in one band of these rioters, and is now honored with a seat in Congress. The mob took Henry Alcorn out of his house to the woods and shot him, leaving the murdered man to be buried by his friends, who mourned over his sad fate. But there is no redress where this corrupt public sentiment takes the place of law. This band of rioters called up Charlie Green to cook for them all night at one of their places of rendezvous. At early morn, Charlie being tired, fell asleep sitting on a dry-goods box. One of the party said he wanted to try his gun before starting, and discharged its contents into Green's body, taking his life instantly!
One or two instances of Southern malignity and outrage were reported to me by one of these refugees. A woman residing near some of those whom I interviewed during my stay in Kansas, in 1879-80, was called out by the "Bourbons" or "Regulators" who were in pursuit of her husband, and questioned as to his whereabouts. Suspecting that their object was to take his life she refused to tell. Upon this a rope was placed around her neck and tied to a horse's tail, and she was thus dragged to the nearest wood and hanged to the limb of a tree until she was dead. Her husband made his escape as, best he could with his mother-less babe.
There was a plantation in Mississippi rented to six colored men, three of them with families. At Christmas they called for a settlement. Morgan, the proprietor, brought them into his debt, and swore "every nigger had eaten his head off." He took seven hundred bushels of wheat that they had raised, and fourteen fat hogs, the corn, and even the team and wagon they brought on the place. They concluded to resort to the civil authorities, hoping to recover a portion of the avails of the season's hard work. But Morgan gained the suit. At this the colored men told him just what they thought of this wholesale robbery. Within a week after the six men were taken out of their beds in the dead of night, by a company of masked "Regulators," who stripped the bedsteads of their cords, with which they were hanged and then lashed to boards and sent floating down the Mississippi River. A white cloth was fastened over their bosoms, upon which was written: "Any one taking up these bodies to bury may expect the same fate." They were taken out of the river one hundred miles below. Two of the widows sent for the bodies of their husbands, and a number whom I conversed with attended the funeral and read the notice on the linen, which had not been removed from their persons. Surely we have a right, and it is our duty to ventilate these facts, though we may be deemed sensational. We can not be charged with political wire-pulling, as they are beyond our reach. But I ask, in the words of Elizabeth H. Chandler, who has long since gone to her rest and reward—
"Shall we behold unheeding
Life's holiest feelings crushed?
When woman's heart is bleeding,
Shall woman's voice be hushed?"
Is it a wonder the freedmen flee by hundreds and thousands? They are still coming into Kansas. There are many sick and dying among them. Let every man, woman, and child arise and work for the refugees, who are suffering for food, fuel, and clothing. There is great necessity for immediate and vigorous effort, in taking the place of the Good Samaritan in caring for the robbed and bruised stranger, who find many priests and Levites passing by. During the Winter all money and supplies for Kansas refugees should be directed to Elizabeth L. Comstock, North Topeka, Kansas.
Our work is by every possible means aiding these poor people to help themselves, which they are doing wherever work can be found. But Winter season overtaking them on the way to Kansas, and no work to be obtained, the philanthropy of our North will not withhold her liberal hand. It is a debt which we owe to this people. Comparatively few call for assistance who have been in the State a year, and most of these are aged grandparents, the sick, and widows with large families of small children.
Of those who came early in the Spring of 1879, many have raised from one hundred to four hundred bushels of corn each year, but they divide with their friends and relatives who follow them. Some raised a few acres of cotton in their first year, and they are jubilant over their future outlook. They say, "Kansas prairies will blossom as the rose, and whiten her thousands of acres with their favorite staple." One old man whose head was almost as white as the few acres of cotton he produced, said, "We'll 'stonish the nation wid thousands of snow-white acres of cotton in dis yere free Kansas, raised wid black hands." I find they are writing back to their relatives and friends in the far off South, that they can raise cotton as successfully in Kansas as in Mississippi, Alabama, and Louisiana. In this prospect the door of hope is opening before them, as if by the Almighty hand, which they accept as having led them to the "land of freedom," as they often express themselves.
They are coming in larger numbers again, notwithstanding every possible effort of planters to keep them back, and false reports from their enemies in this State that the exodus had ended, but we who are in communication with other portions of the State know to the contrary, and all who come report more to follow. These poor people who, between March, 1879, and March, 1881, have made their escape from an oppression that seems almost incredible, and have come to Kansas to live, now number more than fifty thousand, and still they come. Like a great panorama, the scenes I witnessed in this State sixteen years ago, amid clashing arms, come back to me. Suffering and dying then seemed the order of each day. True, there is a great deal of suffering and ignorance among these field hands still, but there is a marked improvement, both as to the intelligence of these masses and their personal comfort. Are they not as intelligent as were the children of Israel when they left Egypt? They made a golden calf to worship after Moses had left them a few days. All ignorant people are prone to depend upon leaders instead of relying on themselves.
Joseph Fletcher, who came into Kansas July 8, 1879, I found by his papers to be an honorably discharged soldier from Mississippi. He testifies to the following facts: "I saw one hundred men killed by shooting and hanging during the two years, 1878 and 1879; and my brother was one of them; I can point to their graves to-day in the two parishes I worked in. This was in the Red River section, Mississippi. Their crime was their persistence in voting the Republican ticket." A number of the representative men from those parishes were interviewed, and they testified to the same things A number of them had been soldiers.
Andrew J. Jackson, directly from Waterproof, Mississippi, says: "Fairfax was a smart, educated man. He owned his house and land, and gave a lot to the colored Baptist Church and mostly built it. But the bulldozers burned both house and church. He rebuilt his house. The Republicans nominated him for Senator, and the Bourbon Democrats found he would be elected. They threatened his life, and as he found snares were laid to entrap him, he made his escape to New Orleans for safety. When, they learned as to his whereabouts, a number of men wrote for him to come back, and they would drop the matter and let the election go as it would; but he heeded neither their letters nor telegrams. One of his friends was fearful that he would heed their persuasions and went to see him, and told him not to listen to their sweet talk, for the bulldozers only wanted him back so that they might take his life. The white Democrats continued to write to him to come back and advise the colored people not to go North, and they would promise to protect him, for every body wanted him to return and none would molest him. As he did not return for all their pledges, one man, who had always appeared very friendly with him, went to see him, and told him that all who had opposed him pledged their word and honor that he should not be disturbed in the least if he would only return and persuade the colored people not to go to Kansas, as he had more influence over them than any other man. He assured him so confidently that he concluded to trust them, and returned to the bosom of his family on Saturday; but before Monday morning he was shot dead. The heart-rending scene can better be imagined than described."
Said one intelligent man, "We can do nothing to protect the virtue of our wives and daughters." Near Greenville, Mississippi, a colored woman was passing through a little skirt of woods, when she was attacked by two white men, who violated her person; then, to prevent exposure, they murdered her in the most savage manner. They tied her clothes over her head and hanged her by her waist to a hickory sapling, and ripped open her bowels until a babe, that would within a few weeks have occupied its place in its mother's arms, fell to the ground. Just at that juncture two colored men came in sight, and the white men dodged into the woods. This drew attention to the awful scene of the dying woman weltering in her gore. They hastened to cut her down, and just as she was breathing her last she whispered, "Tell my husband." One watched the corpse while the other went to inform the husband. This barbarous murder, which took place in April, 1879, was twice related to me in the same way by different women from the same neighborhood, who attended the funeral. As I related this to our friend, W. Armour and wife, of Kansas City, he remarked that the same incident had been told to him by some of the new arrivals. We repeat, Who can wonder at their flight?
On July 12th and 13th two boat-loads more of refugees, numbering four hundred persons, landed in lower Kansas City. I heard it again repeated, "What shall we do? Here in Topeka are two hundred poor people waiting to go somewhere to get work, and only two hundred dollars in our treasury!" What shall we send them? More than fifty men and women were then out hunting work; many found it and rented cabins. We waited for a reply from the railroad authorities, to see if they would take two hundred passengers for that money to Colorado.
This association met and reached the conclusion to telegraph Mr. W. Armour and his co-laborers, at Kansas City, to send the four hundred at that place to other points, as it was impossible to receive them in Topeka until those already there were furnished with homes, or more money should come to our aid. I returned to Kansas City, and found their hands and hearts full also, and heard the query repeated, "What are we to do for these poor people? We can not send them back, and they must be fed until we hear from places to which we have telegraphed." Favorable replies came for seventy-five families to Colorado. The colored minister, Elder Watson, was to take them away, and visited St. Louis to request the friends in that city to send no more in this direction for the present.
A white woman called to see some of these poor people, and brought chicken broth for a very sick man. She said she was born in Virginia, raised in Georgia, where she had taught school, and also taught in Mississippi and Alabama. Because she contended for the rights of the colored people, as they were free, she was ostracised and compelled to leave the South. Said she, "I have seen them hung and shot like dogs. They can not tell you the half of what they suffer. I know it, for I have seen it."
While I was still visiting among these people, the steamer Fannie Lewis landed with one hundred and four more refugees from Mississippi. Here they had nothing for their covering except the open sky. We feared that, unless other States should rally to the rescue, nothing but suffering and death would be before them. Kansas had domiciled about what she could for the present, unless further aid should be given from without. This State had hardly recovered from the sweeping devastation of war when drought swept over her rich prairies, and scarcely had she recovered from that drawback when the grasshoppers came and desolated her again. Then the Macedonian cry, "Come over and help us," was heard and answered. Again we raise this cry in behalf of this oppressed people, and it will meet a generous response.
When forty thousand dependents were thrown into young Kansas by Price's raid through Missouri, followed by Colonels James Lane and Jennison, I received from General Curtis the report that twenty thousand poor whites and as many freedmen were here to be cared for by government and the benevolence of the North. At that time of sore need Michigan placed in my hands two thousand six hundred dollars in money, and from seven thousand to eight thousand dollars in supplies to relieve the perishing and dying of that day. The lesson is not forgotten, that it is more blessed to give than to receive. He alone who knows the end from the beginning can tell the future of our country, and of the five million of its inhabitants of African descent. Yet eternal right must and will triumph. The debt our nation owes to the ex-slave should be paid. The hundred thousand colored soldiers who fought as bravely to save our nation's life as did their paler-faced brethren, and faced the cannon's mouth as fearlessly for the prize above all price—liberty—are worthy of consideration. They were ever true to our soldiers. Many of our prisoners escaping from rebel dungeons were piloted by them into our lines. Many black "aunties" took their last chicken and made broth for our sick Union soldiers, as did the one I met in Natchez, Mississippi. She had been free a number of years, and had her yard full of geese, ducks, and chickens; but all went for Union soldiers. She was a noble Christian woman. She said, "I feels so sorry for a sick soldier, so far from their home. I feels happy for all I kin do for 'em. I knows Jesus pay me." Another colored woman whom I met at Gloucester Courthouse, in Virginia, did the same.