THE FREEDMEN.

ATLANTA, GA.

Students’ Reports of Summer Work.

MRS. T. N. CHASE.

School has opened with larger numbers than for several years. Our graduates seem to be doing much toward recommending the school. The first Sabbath afternoon of each new school-year is given up to reports from our students, who have been teaching through our summer vacation of three months. Nothing in all our school work interests me so much as these reports. The only alloy in my enjoyment is that thousands of Northern friends, whose hearts would be equally cheered by them, cannot enjoy them too.

Those who attend meetings of the A. B. C. F. M., and are thrilled with the reports of returned missionaries, know something of our pleasure. Yet, I suspect ours is greater, for these missionaries are of our own training, many of them led to Jesus in our own school, and the fields reported are the benighted spots of our native land.

I will copy a few jottings, hastily taken at the time. The first one says: “I have the same old story to report, except a few new things. Have taught in Monroe Co. for four summers. The first year no white people visited the school; the second two came; the third year four; this year thirty or forty. All think highly of Atlanta University, and the Commissioner begged me to supply the county with teachers from this school. People are not willing to sell land. Colored people doing well as they can; anxious to get up higher and want teachers to help them up.”

Another says: “I had a half hour of Bible study each morning. Devoted part of Friday afternoons to talks against tobacco and whiskey. All the Sunday-school material the people had was a catechism and some papers left locked up by the last Atlanta teacher and not used since. Only four colored people own land. Landowners seem to ask such a price as they know never can be paid. Some bargain for land, and then pay enormous interest. One man pays one hundred and fifty dollars a year interest—all he can save. I advised them to save their money till they got enough to pay cash for their land. Met several white young men, professing Christians, and had pleasant talks with them. Closed school a little before it was time to return, and picked cotton in the meantime.”

One of our girls, who graduates this year, says: “The people seem poorer than last year; crops failed. The land is poor, and they pay high rent for it. But the children are advancing in knowledge each year. The school is well classified. Had an exhibition at close. Did not spend much time on it, but had them learn their parts well. Several white visitors attended it. One of the gentlemen talked well to the people on morals. He went around and told the people I was very smart. I was told another one said I could read and write better than any white woman in the county.”

Another girl said: “The white people did not want teachers from Atlanta, because they took the money out of the county. They kept me, however, and wanted the people to watch me. When I closed they urged me to stay till Christmas.”

One of our youngest teachers said: “I reached the place in which I was to teach on ‘Big Meeting’ day, and the people were very angry to see me, for a daughter of the most prominent colored man of the place had been teaching there some years, and wished to continue. She was very incompetent, and the Commissioner had sent for me. The father electioneered for his daughter at the ‘big meeting,’ told them she would wait on them for their pay; she would be there if there was but one scholar; she’d always look after her chickens, etc.; but the Commissioner said to them: ‘This young man can write the best hand in the county, and you’d better take him.’ So, after offering to teach for a very little from the patrons, I got the school. A white man had given the people some land if they would build a church. They did so, but used it during the week for school. This made the donor of the land angry, as he did not wish them to have a school. The year before he and his wife went to the building, drove off the teacher, and then he nailed up the door on the inside, while his wife stood on guard with his gun. This summer, when my school was nearly through, the building was burned. It was very plain who did it. So, for the little while, we all went to a cotton-gin house. We laid some shingles down for a floor, and hauled some logs in for seats. A paper laid over the gin served for my desk. We had our closing exercises under a bush arbor. One day I asked the children, ‘How many drink whiskey?’ Twenty or thirty held up their hands and said ‘pa and ma drink it, and give it to me.’”

Another says: “I see great improvement in old people and children. Good many own land and are still buying. One man owns two hundred acres. Another bought some land for eight hundred dollars, and paid half last year, and is in a fair way to pay the rest this year. I did not ask a boy or girl to quit whiskey or tobacco, but I preached temperance by example and quiet conversation. There is harmony between the races. They visit each other’s churches. The bell of a white church tolled for a colored woman. This year I had my first exhibition, because I thought they better learn to read and write first, then exhibit after they had something to show. Prepared the children after school. All the white people attended.”

Another said: “The morals of the people are fearful. They don’t expect teachers to teach morality. Every example set before our people is one that has been contaminated by slavery. If I see any one making for this place I feel something will be done for him. Every Atlanta student I see, I feel, ‘There goes one that will liberate our people from the monster, Immorality.’ Asked the barkeeper if he sold much to ministers and church members. He replied, ‘Most who buy are church members.’ Then he said, ‘Do you see that man with a big locket on his watch chain? He owes me six dollars for whiskey.’ He was the prominent minister of the place. Still there is much progress in temperance. There is an increasing kindly feeling between the rich and poor. I heard the editor of the Macon Telegraph talk to the colored people. He said the Atlanta University was doing more for the State than the white State University at Athens, and that the recitations were better.”

Another, whose health would not allow him to teach, and who stayed here at the Home to work on the farm, said: “Above all, we want God with us all the time, from this day on. Once, during the summer, I had for a moment such a conception of God, that I felt if it continued five minutes I could not live.” These words fell upon my ears like the experiences of a Finney, because they were from one who has no patience with “dream religion,” and whose godly life here for six years has been a constant inspiration to us.

Another said: “People are roused to the subject of education. Children complain if kept at home. The people can buy land easily. Treated well by white men. Most of the whiskey drunk is by white people. Every man in the county knows of Atlanta University. At the closing exercises, a man begged all to save money enough to go up to the College Commencement. He’d been once, and should go next year, if he had to walk.”

All told of the Sunday-school work; some gave experiences in begging money, hauling lumber, and putting up school and church buildings, and most closed by saying, “I hope I did some good.” One sweet girl said it in this way: “I left the results with the Great Reaper, hoping in due time He will gather His sheaves.”

These reports help much in removing prejudices and narrow, one-sided views of the South. While one sees the people retrograding and the whites overbearing, another has a bright view on the other side.

This great number and variety of yearly reports impress us most, however, with the magnitude of our work, and the great need we have of your prayers, that this may be a pure fountain whom whence healing streams only shall flow.

TENNESSEE.

Woman’s Work Among Women.

MISS HATTIE MILTON, MEMPHIS.

Out of a population of 40,000, one-third are colored. Many of the children attend school a few months during the year; but the parents think if their son John Quincy Adams Anderson attends school two weeks out of four, he will “learn a heap,” and be ready to graduate in a year or two. However, some of the children do make good progress at school; but the home influence is so degrading that the necessity of missionary work among the mothers is felt more and more, as we see more of their homes. Many are too poor to send their children to school at all; consequently they have no opportunity of becoming better.

In my daily visits from house to house I found them in a wretched condition, filth and vermin reigning supreme. Often, on entering these abodes, my sensibilities were so shocked that I could not speak at first—dogs, cats, chickens and children clamoring for the hoe cake in the ashes or the unleavened dough baking on the stove-cover, which, when done, is broken and handed around to each, sometimes with the addition of a dripping bit of bacon. In many of these homes the table is never set, the entire furniture consisting of a bed, two chairs, a trunk, box, cupboard, bundle of rags and a poor stove, if there is no fireplace. They sometimes own the board shanties in which they live, and rent the ground they stand on; and when they wish to move, they pull down the shanty, move it to the new place, and put it up again.

I was usually received kindly; by some enthusiastically. One old ex-slave, learning the nature of my errand at her house, said, raising her hands above her turbaned head, “Oh, bless the Lord! Thank the Lord! for He has heard the prayer of His downtrodden people, and put it into the hearts of His dear children in the North to send some one to instruct us. My blessed baby, come as often as you can, and read to Aunt Hettie, for she is an ole Etheopum, and don’t know nothing.” After I left, she rushed around to her neighbors, saying, “Bless the Lord! for He has heard our prayer, and sent an angel right down from heaven to instruct us, and she has been to my house this evenin’.” They were usually glad—many were anxious—to hear the Bible read, some insisting on paying me, saying, “Do take it. We wants you to come often, for we don’t hear anything like it anywhere else.” One woman, wishing, as she said, to do something for the Lord, and having no money, sent me a nice warm dinner. They are very liberal, giving as long as they have a nickel, whether they rightly own it or not.

Some who were suspicious said, “Never heerd tell of white lady going to humble colo’d cabin to read the Bible. Look like it’s mighty queer.” These suspicions had to be overcome in various ways. Often, by attending the sick ones, the good will of the neighbors would be secured. One poor creature, who had not been washed in six months, and was almost dead, after I had bathed her and put on her clean clothes—furnished by the good Northern friends—thanked me and said, “Thank the Lord! when we get home to heaven, we will all have on clean clothes.” Her last days of suffering were thus made more comfortable. I went in often, as she loved to hear the Bible read, and singing. But a few weeks later, I went in one morning, and found her poor remains stretched out on a rough board, resting on two chairs. Thus she lay in state, in her winding-sheet. A plate, placed on her crossed hands, with its mute appeal for money to bury her, told how poor they were.

One day a very black woman met me on the street and said, “How d’y’, Miss. You don’t know me; but I knows you, for you is the one what visits the sick; and I heard you read the Bible, and I wants ye to read it to me. We all loves ye, and we all says, ‘If any one is gwine right up to heaven, it is you.’” I often found the best way to reach the mother was through her children. By giving them little presents, they would become fond of me. Then the mother, who was proud of them, would say, “I wants my children to be better than me, but don’t know how to make them so. I whips them a heap, but they is bad all the time.” After convincing one mother that she was teaching her children to lie by her daily example, she said, “Sure enough! Never thought of that afore. I alus wondered why my children would lie so, ’cause I alus tells ’em not to. Now, Miss, you come often, and teach me; I needs it much as any one. How can we be expected to do better? No one we go with does any better; and in ole slave times, if master saw us with a book, he would ‘slap our jaws;’ so we cannot read to find out better.” Another said, “This is the first work I have seen that looked like really making our homes better.”

Finding the mothers and daughters knew but little about sewing, an industrial school was started, where they met once a week, and were taught how to cut, fit and make garments. The material for this school was furnished by the good people of Romeo. A small sum was charged for each garment, when finished, and used to purchase more material. Also a small price was charged for a few of the more valuable garments sent in boxes, the persons gladly paying the small sum, which was used to procure medicine and other comforts for the sick ones.

I also added something to this fund by giving lessons to some who were able and willing to pay for the instruction.

Sunday was my most busy day; besides attending church and Sabbath-school, I went out to read the Bible to those who were not at home during the week. I seemed to find no rest days; indeed, there was so much for one pair of hands to do, that many times I could not sleep as much as needed. Another meeting was held weekly. I gave Bible readings on those subjects which were of the most interest and importance to mothers, after which we had a prayer-meeting, which was often very interesting.

Near the end of the year, a temperance movement was started in our church and Sabbath-school; many signed the pledge, among whom were about thirty from my class. The colored people are very intemperate, and nearly all the women use snuff and tobacco. One, who was complaining of her poverty, upon being told she could ill afford to use snuff and tobacco, said she only paid ten cents a box, and was astonished to find that in a year it amounted to half as much as her rent. She seemed to try to live an honest Christian life, and before I left had given up all her bad habits, and was very proud and happy.

Although these people are naturally religious, still their religion consists in going to meeting, where they sing, pray, and relate imaginary experiences, and get wrought up to such a pitch that they scream, roll on the floor, and often remain until the small hours of the night. They go home, thinking they are very holy, but have no idea of showing it by a well-ordered life; on the contrary, they continue to live with unlawful companions, steal and lie with impunity; in fact, in many respects, they will compare with their heathen forefathers, from whom they have inherited their superstitions and forms of worship. The bonds of slavery have prevented them from becoming enlightened.

However, I am glad to say there are some grand exceptions to this dark picture; some noble Christians, a few who have good homes. Among these, the good accomplished by the mission-school and the little Congregational church, sustained by the A. M. A., can be seen. The pastor, Mr. Mallory, allows no wife whipping in his church, and he has caused the large number of those who were living together unlawfully to be married. Indeed, his church will compare favorably with white churches of the North. These things show the dawning of day to these benighted people, and give us great encouragement to proceed with our work. But the mass are worse than tongue can tell or pen portray. I feel that in my description the half of woe and degradation has not been told. The Lord was with me in this work, and was a present help in every time of need. Many mornings I would start out with a heavy heart, for it would seem that my efforts to do good were almost in vain; but trusting alone in Jesus, I would go forward. Just then the Lord would show me that some one was becoming better, and I would return at evening upbraiding myself for my want of faith, and reminded of that Scripture which says, “He that goeth forth, and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him.” It was a precious privilege to comfort these broken-hearted ones with His words, of whom it was said: “Never man spake like this Man.”

The Bible is the only book the colored people have any confidence in. A sick man, whom I visited, said he would like to hear the Bible read through; he was not a Christian. For some time he seemed but little interested; but one day he greeted me with a smile, saying: “I can trust the Lord now, and it is all that Bible-reading. Many have talked to me before, but I never thought of what they said; but I could not forget these words from the Bible, and I studied about it all the time, and last week, after you left me, I just did as the Bible said: gave up all, and trusted Jesus. I am ready to go now, and am not afraid.”

When the time drew near for me to return North, the women said: “What will we do without you? Who will visit us when sick, and read comforting words from the Bible? And who will teach us how to train up our children? Now that we have had some one to do these things for us, we feel as if we could not get along without you.” And many were the expressions of gratitude towards those dear ladies in the North, who had sent them a missionary, and many the prayers offered in their behalf. There were many signs of encouragement, though, no doubt, much seed that was sown will not spring up at once, but in the future will bear precious fruit, for the Lord will not permit His word to return unto Him void. This has been the happiest year of my life, for this work has its own reward, both to the missionary and those who send her, which is more valuable than silver or gold. I sometimes think the angels might almost envy us in this work.

NORTH CAROLINA.

Students Want to “Batch”—Who Will Help?

REV. ALFRED CONNETT, McLEANSVILLE.

We hear almost daily of young men and young women who would come here to school if they could only get a room where they could “batch.” I can only hear of one vacant house within two miles of the school, and that is engaged by two students who have not yet returned. Small buildings, say 12×20, one story, two rooms, can be built for about $100 each, and land bought at $6 to $10 per acre, possibly $20 for small tracts. By making some provision of this kind to accommodate students, we should at once draw in ten to twenty students, and these the very ones we most need to reach: namely, those who are preparing to teach, and to preach. Thus, the school would become more widely and more permanently useful. These buildings are needed immediately, or part of them. It is difficult, if not impossible, with their limited means, for the students to obtain board, with suitable accommodations. The white people do not wish to take in boarders, unless at high figures, and the colored people have, usually, but one room in their log houses.

Cannot some church, individual, or individuals, do a work for Christ in this way? If this, or something similar is not done, we shall let an important and precious opportunity slip through our fingers.

TALLADEGA, ALABAMA.

The Story of Ambrose Headen,

AS TOLD BY HIMSELF.

I am fifty-six years old; was born in Chatham Co., N. C.; was a slave forty-three years, sixteen years in North Carolina and twenty seven in Alabama. I have lived in this county forty years. My young master in North Carolina was four years older than myself; he had nine slaves, and I was the only male. He died just before I was sixteen. When I was thirteen I went to learn the carpenter’s trade. I was taken from my mother and sent away to nurse children when I was six. I served three years at the carpenter’s bench and at that time my master died, and I had to be sold to pay his debts.

On the day appointed for the sale I went fourteen miles on foot, and alone, to the place where I was to be sold. On my way I tried to lay some plan to run away. A white woman said she would help me, and told me to go into a certain swamp and she would feed me and help me away, but I was afraid of the dogs and the men that would catch me. No one can tell my feelings on my way to the sale, but I knew I had to go. At the place of sale were 500 people come together to see me sold, and to buy me. I was the only one to be sold. I was on the block three hours while the men were bidding for me. Five of these men were speculators, and the rest were mostly people that lived in that region. While they were selling me there was a good deal of brandy drunk, and they offered me some as I was very tired standing; and I said, “No, sir, I have sorrow enough on me now without drinking that.” I was finally knocked off to a very bad man for $1,780. This man lived about thirteen miles from my old home, and when I knew that he was my master I burst into tears, heart-broken. The overseer took me behind the store and tried to stop me from crying, but I could not stop. At last, my new master said if any one would give for me as much as he had, he might have me, and a man from Alabama, who was out to North Carolina on a visit, said he would, and so I sold again to this man from Alabama, and after three months I was taken away from all my friends away down to Alabama. My new master proved to be a good man, a member of the Baptist Church, and I lived with him twenty-seven years until emancipation. One thing I forgot to tell you, and it made a deep impression on my mind: at the time I was being sold in North Carolina, a man in the crowd cried out with a loud voice, “Hell will boil and overflow at such work as this.” I never can forget that expression.

I was set free by two wills; the first one was burned, and so I was kept in slavery. Once, after I had been absent from home some time, my mistress, on my return, came rushing out to the gate and crying with a loud voice, “Oh, Ambrose, Ambrose! I had rather live in the smokiest cabin on the place, and had your master’s will done, than to be in the king’s palace,” but the will was burned and so it could not be done. The other will that set me free was made ten years before emancipation; but emancipation came before my master died, and so his will did me no good.

During all my slave life I never lost sight of freedom. It was always on my heart; it came to me like a solemn thought, and often circumstances much stimulated the desire to be free and raised great expectation of it. We slaves all knew when an Abolitionist got into Congress. We knew it when there was just one there, and we watched it all the way until there was a majority there. I don’t know hardly how we got the knowledge, but we always knew. We always called “freedom” “possum,” so as to keep the white people from knowing what we were talking about. We all understood it.

Some years before emancipation, my master signed $900 to be paid in work towards building a Baptist College where we lived. He sent me to work out his subscription. I had four children of my own, and I thought that it was hard for me to work out this $900, when I could have no privilege of educating my own children. I little thought then that my children would ever graduate at this college, but God has turned things about so that three of my children have graduated, and the fourth will graduate next June; so that when I worked out this subscription of my master, I was building a college for myself and my family. While at work on this college, I fell into a conversation with the white carpenters at work there, and they said “niggers” would do nothing “if set free.” I told them if they would take me out into the woods and strip every rag from me, and set me free, that in ten years I would school my children.

Just after emancipation my master said: “Ambrose, I want you to let Nannie stay with her mistress; she can’t do without her.” I said: “Master, I always thought that if ever I was free I would educate my children; if ’twas not for that, sir, I would accommodate you.” “Ambrose,” said he, “I hardly thought you would deny me.” I said: “I can’t do any better, sir.” With this we separated, and now all my children are good scholars; one is a minister; one has charge of an academy; I have a good house of seven rooms, and eleven acres of land about it, besides a farm of 320 acres in the country.

Nothing can illustrate the great change that has come over us, unless it is the change in passing from earth to heaven. You could see the force of this illustration if you knew our history—if you only knew the dark Egypt we have come through. I believe emancipation will work out as great things for us as it did for Israel.

When the college and the Congregational Church were planted here I joined the church, and have never been sorry for it. I love the missionary cause, and would rather give all I have than to see it go down.

I love to think of my son down in Selma preaching. There was quite a scare there about the yellow fever, and my son wrote me to know what he should do; I wrote him back, “to look to the Lord, and stand to his post.”

A GRATEFUL WARD.

A Letter from an Indian.

I thank you, gentlemen, you kind and good. By and by I see you and tell you. You give money to Mrs. Caruthers to help me learn. I try to learn fast. Indian no talk much English. May be very soon I understand. Long ago I an Indian, now I don’t think so. I think gust the same white man. Now I want be same as good white man. Here this country good Tarrytown I like. Your a

Kiowa French Zone Ke-uh.