POOR BEN: a Story of Real Iife, BY LUCRETIA H. NEWMAN COLEMAN. Do'st thou love life, then do not squander time; For that is the stuff life is made of: Plough deep, while others sleep. Nashville, Tenn. : Publishing House of the A. M. E. Sunday-School Union. 1890. Entered according to Act of Congress, in tlie year lS'JO, By The Sunday School Union of the A. M. E. Ckup.ch, in the office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. I Cedieate This Luot*k WITH SINCERE LOVE FOR ]VLY RACE, 1*0 'I'lie COLORED y0TJK'3 J5EN ^ OF AMERICA, WITH THE HOPE THAT IT MAY CONTRIBUTE SOMETHING TO THAT CHRISTIAN KNOWLEDGE, WHICH IS THE V EKY BKEATII OF ALL TKUE NOBILITY. THE AUTHOR. Preface. 5 Should these chapters succeed in conveying a true statement of the narrative attempted, the writer will rest satisfied with the re¬ sult, however severely the merits of the work may be criticised, Upon purely literary grounds. If it evinces any political or denominational spirit, let me say in self-defense, that it was utterly impossible to disassociate the life of the man from the condition of his country and people, and the operations of the inhuman and merciless laws of slavery, which wrought so forcibly against the black man; or to dissever his life from that off-shoot of the Christian Church to which his progenitors belonged, and which he so worthily represents. If it had been otherwise, he might have been born in the lap of luxury, reared in the arms of affluence, and, with no opposing forces, would never have advanced above the mass, nor enshrined himself in the memory of the Church and State. Hitherto, the history of the men of the colored family, who have risen from the shadowy depths of the past, into an enlighten¬ ed and useful present, has been left unrecorded, except in diary form, or journal, and stored away as family relics. But the time has arrived when we must rescue from the Stygian gulf of obliv¬ ion the records of those who have passed on, and of those who still temain on the green baized stage of the present. In writing this volume, the author has found many thorns as Well as roses in her pathway; but amongst the pleasures the greatest was when she recognized peculiar merit in some trait or dee(l of her subject; and the wish would bubble up from the heart for the power to aid the development of such traits in the million of ignorant ones of color in this country. To collect, and arrange, and furnish original matter enough on¬ ly to fill the greater gaps, and adapt all to the end contemplated, has been the chief duty. The author has with a crude plough¬ share broken new ground, turned up fresh strata, in a field where 6 Poor Ben. future competition in the glory of classic culture will gather rfeJi harvests from the field now being sown. That the book maty prove instructive, edifying and useful, der God's blessing, especially to that most numerous, important t and rising class of people for whom it has been chiefly designed^'is the earnest and prayerful desire of THE AUTHOIi, UBLISHERS' lOTICE. Ijsa assuming tlie publication of this volume, the gmfelishers have been chiefly guided by the design to stimulate and encourage the production of Afro-Amer- Scan literature. That the work is not above criticism Ss as apparent to us as it will be to every competent literary critic who may peruse it. As a beginning, Blow-ever, in a certain line of literature, we have judged Et to contain sufficient merit to warrant us in offering £fc to the public, and commending it to the favor of tbhose who are interested in the production of a litera¬ ture that will represent the ever increasing intelligence, tas well as the hopes and aspirations of Afro-Ameri- csans. However fondly the hope may be cherished, t^hat American society will eventually becopie truly tudsmopolitan in its character, does not relieve the ne- faessity of each factor that may enter therein from at- Staining the highest excellency of thought and charac¬ ter. The strength of the whole fabric will be in pro¬ portion to the strength of each element that enters in- ito it. In the physical development of the country, ^he Afro-American has contributed his full share. Will he contribute to its intelligence in a proportion¬ ate degree? ill he win recognition and distinction in tihe(production of its literature? While others are using tike jpress to speak for him, will he use it to speak (7) 8 Publishers' Notice. for himself? Will he turn the kaleidoscope of honest effort so as to reveal the higher qualities of his being through the medium of literary productions, and thus pour just contempt upon the work of the caricaturists who paint him only as the subject of humor and ridi¬ cule? It is the aim of the publishers of this volume to encourage, so far as in them lies? every effort pos¬ sessing reasonable merit that may be put forth by an Afro-American literator. We feel a just pride in announcing that the entire mechanical work, except the binding, was done by Afro-Americans, with, material owned by the same, in a building belonging to them; and we are fully con¬ scious that it has numerous mechanical defects, which will be readily discerned by those who are competent to judge. Remember, however, that it is our first effort, and be assured that we intend to improve. The author of the work undoubtedly possesses the* possibilities of developing a meritorious standard of authorship. Give her the stimulating influences of helpful association, such as she would enjoy were sho a white person, and in a few years she would take high rank as an author. We have already been informed of her intention to prepare the manuscript of another book at no distant day. COflTEflTS CHAPTER. PAGE I.—Childhood, - - - - 11 II.—The Cow Boy, r 17 III.—The Chore Boy, - - 25 IV.—The School Boy, - 29 V.—The First Fight, - - 34 VI.—The Wagon Boy, - 42 VII.—Steamboat and Hotel Life, - 47 VIII.—A Great Misfortune, - 54 IX.—In Sunday-school, - - 61 X.—The School Teacher, - 66 XI.—At the Capital, - - 72 XII.—Love, Courtship and Marriage, 78 XIII.—The Y. M. C. A., 94 XIV.—In Business, ... 99 XV.—Political Career ... 114 XVI.—A Call to the Ministry, - 132 XVII.—Literary Work, - 145 xviii.-two Years a Representative, 153 xix—the A. M. E. Church, - - 194 xx.—His Home, - - - 199 XXI.—Practical Lessons, - - 208 12 Poor Ben. into the space "below. After finding that no one was hurt, one of the congressmen, who knew the word¬ ing of the contract, turned to Henry Clay, who was among the number that had been thrown down the embankment, and said, "Clay! the contract is brok¬ en !" This brought forth a hearty laugh from the sage of Ashland. Thus the ''old iron bridge," over which have passed our ablest statesmen and most elo¬ quent orators, became historic. But the reader may say there is nothing very remarkable about this location. True, yet even in points seemingly insignficant, 'tis well at time^, to be explicit; for often one's surroundings has much to do with one's self. And again, often that which has its origin in apparent trifles, swells in mag¬ nitude, until its source is lost sight of, or, when ob¬ served, becomes a matter of surprise, as the results are seen. An instructive lesson may be learned by the student of nature, when contemplating the rain, or spring as it forms the rill and the rivulet, which glides down the hillside, and runs day and night, by mill and cottage. It is this, that is useful, rather than the swollen river, or roaring cataract. The great Missis¬ sippi excites wonder, and we stand and gaze .at its power, and stand in awe of the greatness of its Maker. One such stream is enough to be a repository for all the water of a continent; but there would be no such voluminous body of water, were it not for the thou¬ sands of silvery brooks and creeks, that help to make that great river. So with the human family ; one lit¬ tle babe among us is a mere trifle, and with the lack of attention, care and prayer, may run at will and its powers never be trained to follow towards the great channel of elevation. Hence they are wasted. This is Ch ildhood. 13 only one! Ah, it is so in famil}T, city, state and throughout the land. Intellect sinking into nothing¬ ness. Trifles! Who can value a drop of rain, or fix the price of an immortal soul? though it be found in a Negro hut, in the rice swamp of South Carolina. Care¬ fully prepare the ingredients, weigh with precision the simplest and there is a certainty of perfection in its compound. Deal cautiously with trifles, and there is but little fear of the future issue. Lead the creek to the river, and its influence will always be felt, in quenching the thirst of the cattle, furnishing powerio move the thousands of spindles and wheels in facto¬ ries, and building a highway for trade and commerce, as it moves on to feed the mighty ocean. Thus, reader, may you see, ere this story is finished, how "Poor Ben," whose existence began, like the little 'creek, in obscurity, has surmounted barrier after bar¬ rier, until he reached the Monongahela of activity; set the mill wheels of thought into action; passed on to the Ohio of noble, purposes, there set barges of higher hopes afloat; rushed earnestly towards the Mississippi of usefulness, and opened the flood-gates of the gospel againt sin; and is now hastening down to the honored Mexico of old.age; thence on, on, until the majestic ocean of eternity is gained. This child's parents were of mixed blood. His fath¬ er seven-eighths Negro, one-eighth Irish; his mother six-eighths Scotch, one-eighth Negro and one-eighth In¬ dian. Now this problem, when solved, makes Bennie a compound of the following ingredients: Eight parts Negro, six parts Scotch, one part Indian, and one part Irish. The characteristics of race variety exhibit themselves Childhood. 15 God has called you to preach; don't make a ship¬ wreck, my baby! You have Jesus, the Bible and com¬ mon sense to guide you.1' It was March the 6th, 1S38, and the searching winds were shaking the leafless branches, rattling the gates and shutters, and numbing the fingers and toes of the early risers in Brownsville, Pa. All without was keen, icy, chattering and chill; all within was quiet, still and warm; when in a little Bridgeport cottage, the first item was added to the register in the family bible under the column headed "Births." Thus Benjamin William, the oldest of eight children, made his ap~ pearence in this sphere of mysteries, wondering, as he lay cosily cuddled in his warm flannels, why he had been banished from the fairy land of angels, and sent to stay in this world of tempest and confusion. Nevertheless little Bennie was here; he came to be the household pet; came to suffer the pangs of colic, and to be strangled with paregoric; came to be tossed, trotted, starved, gorged, carefully tended, or left to cry himself to sleep. This he, however, seldom did; for Bennie was a fat, good natured, rollicking baby, and never made wry faces, except when they stuck pins in him. Baby Bennie was a dull-witted, or rather, lazy baby, who wouldn't nor didn't talk until his brother Tommie, whose senior he was, by two years, taught him to talk. In infancy, when Bennie was but six months old, these christian parents gave him to God and the church in hol}T baptism. It is by such early consecration and religious train¬ ing at home in the day and Sunday-school, that the children and youth of this day are to be made noble- The Cow Boy, staring, first up into the dense foliage of the trees, then, watching his shadow in the clear road ditch. "Mama says God made everything, and made me> too, and is my Father. Now, if he made all these things, some that move and some that can't move, I wonder who made God?" His mind seemed bewild¬ ered for a moment, then, clear-headed, on he goes: "Well, God is made, that's sure, and all the trees, and cows, and dirt, and stones, and people, and—every* thing is made, 'cause I see 'em. If God's father helped him make so many nice things, and he is my Father,. I just 'spect He'll help me make my mill to-morrow; won't you, God? " He said this with child-like faith, turning his face toward the sky. "Oh, my, the sun is so hot! I wonder if the sun and moon ain't God's eyes. He looks at me so hard it makes me hot. Guess I'd better hurry and get back home. Whew! I'm getting so warm!" These childish dreams and fancies are but the work- ings of the intellect in embryo. In them we see a nat* ural propensity in Ben to question; to seek out the unknown things about him; the ability to plan and build on future prospects, and to turn to account every material within his reach, and convert all into a high¬ er purpose by his own sendeavors. These traits and aspirations also show the incapability of man to se& The Cow Boy. 21 that many of his efforts and schemes are vain and im¬ possible. After his plans are well made they fail of accomplishment. They are as absurd to a higher be¬ ing as the cow boy's idea of always having a clean coal cart, drawn by fat, sleek horses, clean clothes and erect spine, or an everlasting good temper and a fine store whip; and as uncertain as his ingenuity to construct a complete mill, and set its machinery in motion with his untaught hands and baby brain. Simple reasoning in the child teaches the impracti¬ cability of trying to solve, in riper years, the unrevealed mysteries of the Creator, or to sound the unfathoma¬ ble depths of the Great Beyond. The first snow of 1848 had fallen over these two towns of Western Pennsylvania, on a cold Sabbath morning in October. The aristocratic ladies and their children heeded their inclinations and stayed in-doors, where they were certain of a warm atmosphere and dry feet. The easy livers and laboring classes gladly hailed the day, snowy though it was, so the streets and churches of Brownsville were not quite deserted. Heavy snow did not dampen the ardor of these hum¬ ble worshippers. Mr. Nicholas Smith and Bennie were among those who hastened homeward through the crisp snow after morning service, where they had returned thanks for the blessing of church, health and home, without a dream of being deprived of anything they now possessed. Uncle Nicholas was a brother of Bennie's mother, and a steamboat man; working all the week, and lay¬ ing over at Brownsville on Sundays, as was the cus¬ tom of all the river-men in that section. On this Sab¬ bath evening just mentioned, Uncle Nicholas conclud- 22 Poor Ben. ed not to go to church. The day had worn on slowly; the snow had fallen heavily at intervals in great, soft, white flakes, which covered the ground and lay there, blotting out the paths and making the face of the surrounding coun¬ try a pure white waste, over which it would be diffi¬ cult to find one's way after dark. "We will not go 'to church to-night," said Mr. T , to his wife. " The snow is too deep for you, and it is growing colder." Mr. Smith however thought differently. The weath¬ er must not keep him in. He had attended morning service, to-night he would worship at another shrine, that of the amiable Miss . About ten o'clock he returned home, took a lighted candle and went up to his room; his earliest and only thoughts were given to the one he had just left, instead of the locatioii of the light; so that in placing the candle on the stand, the curtain took fire, and in an instant the whole win¬ dow frame was in ablaze. Igniting some bedding that was piled near, the fire rapidly spread from one piece of fufniture to another, until the whole room was a bed of flame. Mr. Smith rushed frantically down the stairs, calling to his sister," Louise, fire upstairs! Louise, fire upstairs!" The alarm was quickly given, and the citi¬ zens flocked to the scene. Bennie, who was asleep with his little brothers, in their trundle bed, sprang from it> caught his little baby sister in his arms, and with great presence of mind ran from the burning house to the school building across the way. While the men were doing all they could to stay the destructive element, our little hero was trying to soothe the grief of the younger children, who did not realize The Cow Boy. 23 the necessity of being snatched so suddently from their warm bed and brought qut into the cold. "Don't cry, Allie." "Mamma is coming Tom." "Are you very cold?" "Perhaps papa will save our clothes and bring them over here to us." And with many other loving expressions he tried to console his little brothers and sister, while- his parents were strain¬ ing every nerve to save what they could from de¬ struction. Reader, imagine, if you can, the feelings of a poor man and wife, who have struggled hard for years to get and keep a little place called home, to see all the rewards of their toil reduced to ashes, and their little ones with¬ out shelter save the canopy of heaven. Placed in an extremity like this, without any source 011 the right or on the left from which to ask assistance, the being looks within at self, then above to its Maker, and finds hope beyond; and soon there are spread around the things so much needed and desired; for God never forsakes his own. Help oftei} comes from unexpected sources, and through misfortunes and heavy losses are generally opened the best avenues to success and bet¬ ter days. After the fire was subdued, and Mr. and Mrs. T had sadly given a last look at their once happy home, now a smouldering heap of cinders, they accepted the kind offer of a home with Mrs. A's brother Jerry. Here their jieeds were generously attended to, the citizens showing that spirit of generosity and benevolence that is so justly accredited to all the native citizens of "Penn's Woods." J. C. Auld rebuilt Bennie's house, and kindly allowed his parents as much time as they needed to pay for it. 24 Poor Ben. i The person who under all circumstances endeavors to help himself will always find a helping hand stretched to save him when his own attempts are futile. So with these faithful servants of God, whose faith in him was strong. When all seemed dark and hopeless He opened the way for them in their extreme need, and bestowed His aid when they were unable to rise without it. 26 Poor Ben. law which, if conformed to, brings the only true hap¬ piness that Providence intended to be ours. It is im¬ possible to enjoy anything in nature or art without la¬ bor. The idle girl or boy, the indolent man or wo¬ man, is the most perfect picture of unhappiness, one can portray. By giving a description of Rev. Cowan's parsonage, you will readily see another incentive to industry that Bennie might have had, besides his love of employ¬ ment, and it may explain the reason why he seldom allowed the sun to set on unfinished work. The rectory was a medium sized house, a nest of comfort and convenience, without any of the stately grandeur of some ministerial residences of the pres¬ ent day. There was nothing about the building, its furniture or surroundings, to suggest a manor. The flower beds and grass plat in the front yard were kept in good order, and in fact, wTere laid out with an eye to the beautiful. The back yard was a wide, deep one, level, destitute of fruit trees and grass, except several a^ed apple trees that stood beyond the bam and coal house, and near to the line fence, while a few shrubs stood near the pathway of plank, that led to the out¬ buildings, and to the gate that opened into the lot be¬ yond. This back yard extended to the church grave¬ yard, which lay just in the rear of the entire parish, property. To the right of the parsonage rose the dingy walls of the Christ Church, with its staring window case¬ ments, and its gloomy tower. To the left lay a va¬ cant lot, without fencing, having a muddy jiond in the center, where all the neighboring ducks and geese swam. In front ran the dimly lighted street. 28 Poor Ben. for lie had made many a safe trip to the coal house and pump, without light or company. He knew too well the determination of his aunt to have things done in her own way and time, so he must not return with an empty scuttle. Finally with a certain amount of will power, partly natural, partly caused by two exciting nerves—Aunt Margaret inside, and darkness outsi.de —Bennie would muster up all his courage, and fill the coal box at no slow rate. Little by little his fear of the tall white grave stones, the geese floating by starlight in the pond, and the dreary church, with its dark steeple and gaping win¬ dows, was overcome, and he learned that there were fewer ghosts in the graveyard, than in the chambers of imagination. Every day this little soldier of the chore boy regi¬ ment, answered Aunt Margaret's roll call, ate his ra¬ tions, fought his battles, though they may have been only imaginary ones, with the cemetery hob-gobblins, or cobble stone throws with which he put the geese to rout, and he made many such conquests, that perhaps are unworthy of laurels in the reader's estimation; yet they were nevertheless, battles and victories, or defeats comparatively equal to many which grown-up boys dail}r fight, win or lose. They strengthened him for the sterner conflicts, awaiting him in subsequent years. Poor Ben's Birthplace. Chapter 11/. The School Boy. fHE summer months passed swiftly by, and Bennie stopped work. Not because be was tired of his situ¬ ation, nor th.it he was sick; but simply because he had learned that school was to open, His parents had promised him that he might enter school and he was almost beside himself to see what A looked like, and to hear how U sounded, when made by his own vocal organs, and to try to be^,t his Uncle Epbram writing with a goose quil. Reader, you and I have both had our first day in school. With what extreme delight do we recall the joyous anticipations we had on entering the school room for the first time. If you have any curiosity to know hpw Bennie felt, all you have to do is to take a seat in your own imag¬ ination, whether outside, or in, it matters not, the fact is the same; and there, when quietly settled in the halls of memory, you can look around you, and at no cost, upon the scenes of early school days, painted by the hand of personal experience. Here you may ac¬ company Ben, in his learning to skate, taking the girls to coast on Saturday, and capsizing them, then beat¬ ing a hasty retreat to the steep bills where none bu.t boys dare venture to descend. Iiere you see inglorious The School Boy. 81 In fact they lacked all the conveniences and comforts of the modern desks. The heaters were long iron box stoves, a few old dust covered, and smoked soiled maps adorned the walls, on the sides between the windows; and two short blackboards were nailed against the walls; one in the fore, the other in the background. Some faded blue cambric curtains kept out the intrud¬ ing rays of sunlight. We cannot help noticing; though we secretly and silently leave out all comment, the numerous jack knife hieroglyphics, which may be seen on every ob¬ ject within. Each has its history grave or gay. The hand that carved may be at this moment at work on a better, or may be a lifeless piece of clay. If it be a name think kindly of it. The owner may have sunk in dishonor, and may be sharing the convict's cell, or with fame and title, be enjoying the honors a noble life merits. The teacher, Mr. Ephram Arnett, is an erect, square- built, man of two hundred pounds, with firm, massive, benevolent features, not however without a dash of will, decision and executive determination in them, Tyhich adds much to the interest, that such a man elic¬ its from an observer. Hi^1 eyes are black, deep set, kind and lively, his eye brows are heavy and project¬ ing, and either stern or relenting as the occasion re¬ quires, but in their natural mood are very 'complacent. There is a proud military bearing about his free, easy movements, that bespeaks the consciousness of having discharged his duty in the different fields of work, in which he has labored. He is about thirty years of age, but his regular hab¬ its, cheerful and kind disposion, and robust constitu- 32 Poor Ben. tion make him appear but twenty-five or less In short yon see that he is but a beau ideal of what one would call an old-fashioned school-master. On this cold frosty morning in October, 1849, Ben- nie for the first time entered this school-room as a student. The teacher just spoken of was a brother of Ben- nie's father. As he came in a desk was assigned him with Goin Fairfax for a seat-mate. Jerry Cane, and /Dave Conyon sat behind him, Leslie Fairfax and Sam Robinson in front, Sidney Banks and Joe. Robinson, on the right. Just across the isle sat Harriett Poin- dexter, a girl whose aptness in penmanship charmed Ben, and whose graceful lines on slate or paper, acted like a whip to his unsteady nerves, and stiff awkward fingers. It was not long before such a spirit of compe¬ tition was generated that he would never allow Harriett to make a nice looking letter, but what he would, by re-- peated practice on it, succeed in making it as well and rapidly as she, and no doubt would add an extra flour¬ ish as an improvement. A very noticeable trait in Bennie's character was perseverance. He early learned to put into practice, the sentiment of the song he daily sang, and which is familiar to every ear: " Over and over again, The broo-k through the meadow flows, And over and over and over again, The tireless mill-wheel goes. So the dews of the morning must fall, And the sun and the summer rain, Must do the work and perform it all, Over and over again. Chapter U. The First Fight. HE game of fox and geese, and pull-away, through the freshly fallen snow, were this ever active boy's delight. There was no more royal fun than a day spent on the hillside, or ice, coasting or skating. Acting as commander of a crowd of girls and boys, Bennie would have them build, under his supervision, a snow fort, and after it was completed and a good sup¬ ply of compact, crystal cannon balls were made, he would divide his force into two armies, offensive and defensive. Those who had done the least in the build¬ ing, and the furnishing of the fort, would form the of¬ fending force, and were driven from the possession, thus would open a lively contest for the disputed ter¬ ritory. The whiz of the swiftly sent balls, the stolen advances made on the rear of the fort, the shouts of the victorious boys or girls, who with long poles, succeed¬ ed in bringing down a portion of the fort, and finally the headlong rush of the ones who had for so many minutes, held their ill-gotten arsenal, chased by the victors, can be better imagined than described. By this and other methods of sport, Bennie culti¬ vated his combative propensity and love of conquest. He, not differing from the other boys, did not always (34) The First Fight. 35 play fight, but some times would find cause to go at it in real earnest, and when a falling out would occur, a round of boxing, or tug at wrestling would ensue. One day, after school had been dismissed, a number of boys went down to Lanning's saw-mill, to get bark from the logs. After playing for some time in the sawdust, a dispute arose between Ben and Johnnie Tate. "Say, John, I wouldn't take that off of Ben," exclaimed Nute Legg, and this was seconded by Hattie McVullen. "He'll take all that and more too, if he fools much more, and don't let me alone!'' said Ben. " I'll lick him as quick as chain lightning." "You'd better try it," put in Phin Starr, "and you'll have me to lick too!" "All right, I'll whip you and all the rest if you don't go off and let me alone," said Ben, who began to think that things were assuming a very war-like aspect. " I ain't going off," said Johnnie Tate, coming up and rubbing his fist under Ben's nose. This was more than our little commander of the fort could stand, the latent ferment in him became active and bubbled over, falling heavily on Johnnie's head, in his face, anywhere, for he was pummeling promis- cously every part of his opponents fair proportions. "Let me go Ben, I take it all back. Oh, bo}Ts, my nose! Look how I'm bleeding! " But Ben thumped away until he was not only sure of victory, but was quite out of breath, and could fight no longer. Johnnie's boasting friends stepped up and led him down to the water, and washed his bloody face and blackened eyes, a't the same time whispering a new idea, or word of consolation in his ear, Ben didn't know which. However, no fear of a second attack ever entered his mind. So he filled his basket with strips 36 Poor Ben. of bark and went safely home. Once safely housed, fee told his mother of his adventure while at the mill. She listened quietly, then when he had finished, she tried to show him how wrong it was to quarrel and fight, though inwardly thinking that he'd do it again if he had to, he promised to keep away from bad boys and not fight any more. Ben was not fond of being scolded, so he listened quite patiently for awhile, but concluding that his mother was not going to stop and •get supper, he said, "Mother hadn't I better bring in my wood now?" "Yes, Bennie, before it gets later, fibr I want you to go to the grocery for me before dark." So Bennie hurriedly brought in his coal and kind¬ ling, took the basket, and after getting a list of the cr- ticles to be gotten, he counted and repeated them a number of times, and set out for Roger's grocery. This he reached safely and soon had the packages stored away in the basket under his right arm, and a tin bucket of molasses in his hand, with which he started on a brisk walk toward home, fearing darkness would overtake him He had not gone far before it was a deep twilight, and he heard some voice near him say, '• There he comes boys! There he is!" And in a moment a stone ©ame whizzing through the dark, quickly followed by another, and another. Bennie not only looked about Mm but quickened his steps into a run, for he was about to be attacked by a dozen boys all screaming, git! git! git! Bennie thought discretion the most valiant thing to practice at this point, so clinging to his basket with one hand and his bucket with the other, he beat a has¬ ty retreat. In his haste he ran against a short guard¬ ing post, it struck him in the breast suddenly check- The First Fight. 37 ing his' speed, and sending his molases all over liim, and the pavement, while the parcels flew in every di¬ rection from the basket. Ben gave but little thought to the scattered articles; self-preservation was the thought uppermost in his mind, so he picked himself up and away he flew towards home, verifying the old adage, "he that fights and runs away, lives to fight an¬ other day." He soon reached home and was met at the door by his mother who was growing verj' anxious about him. Bennie rushed in at the door out of breath, and with such a frightened look that his mother cried: *l Why Bennie! what is the matter with you? Where are the things I sent you for?" This she said all in one breath. "Those old boys chased me, and stoned me all the way home," gasped the poor boy, who now saw that he had lost the supposed victory he had made during the day by the inglorious defeat and retreat at night. But his mother consoled him, as best as she could, then went back with him to the place where he collided with the post, to gather up the scattered gro¬ ceries, and mourn over the battered bucket. Like all childish disputes, this one between Bennie and Johnnie Tate was amicably settled the next day, and they were firm friends. Tate reached the years of manhood, joined the army and was killed in battle. But Ben lived to relate with pleasure the story of the first battle in which John Tate was engaged; with sorrow the last, in which he fell; for it was with heart-felt sympathy that Ben followed the form of his school¬ mate to his last resting place, and recalled many scenes and sports that the now lifeless form had once shared, with him. 38 Poor Ben. When Bennie was quite young his mother gave him a little dog, Avhose color was a dark yellow, unbroken save by a white spot in the breast and one on each foot, that had a perfect resemblance to socks. "Major Ringold," for this Avas his name, was the embodiment of dignity, courage and fidelity. He walked as proud¬ ly as though he owned both sidewalk and street, or was- leading major of some famous army. Brave as a lion he was afraid of neither men, boys nor dogs Wherev¬ er Bennie went he Vas his constant companion* While the boys played he would guard their coats and hats; when they swam he attended them, and when tired he would return to the bank, and lie near their clothing and dry himself in the sun. The boys, however, never liked to have Major with, them when they went on hunting expeditions, for he was too fat to chase and catch rabbits, and would only scare them off so that the bo}'s would have no better success than he. He was useful, however, in driving up the cows; they knew him, and as soon as he would pop over the fence,, they would start for the bars. Major was faithful as well as brave. Often Bennie would come in contact with bad boys, on his way to and from the store, or in going to the home of his Aunt Henrietta Robinson. If Major was with him, he would walk close up to his side, and by his action say, "I am here to protect you." This would give Bennie great courage, he would look proudly at his little dog, as he strutted by his side, Avith head and tail erect. Ben would throw his shoulders back, and inarch on with his hands full of stones to protect both himself and dog- When a stone was thrown, Major The First Fight. 39 would stand and say by the expression of his face and attitude of his body, "Hit me, but touch Ben, if you dare." Major Itingold, was kind and faithful to all the -children. All the neighbors liked him, and would save and throw him a good bone. But like all things earthly he took sick, the family and neighbors did all they could to alleviate his sufferings, but human aid was vain, and Major Ringold died. Here followed another scene, the crying of the chil¬ dren, father and mother looked very sad, while Ben and Tommie began to make preparations for the fun¬ eral. They went to the back of the lot, on the hill, dug a grave for him, returned, wrapped him in a cof¬ fee sack, and placed him on long poles. All the boys in the neighborhood were in attendance, some acting as pall-bearers. They carried Major to his last resting place, and with tears and sad countenances they cov¬ ered him up in his little grave on the hill. This was the last of the animal, who was Ben's faithful teacher in lessons of fidelity, dignity and courage. Not even a wooden slab marks the spot where Major Ringold lies. But at the foot of the old apple tree, he Bleeps the sleep of all animals. And if animals have a resurrection and the true and faithful shall come up first, then when they arise, in the foremost ranks of faithful dogs, Major Ringold will appear. Not wholly bereft, Ben had another pet—his blue lien. She layed a nest full of eggs, and Ben did not have long to wait, before there were ten chickens. One was a fine rooster and he named him "Nick," which he trained to stand on his shoulder and crow. He was p, fighter and defender, and no other rooster, old or 40 Poor Ben, young, could stay about the yard. He protected and scratched for the little ones, and in short was the cock of the yard. There was something in that young chicken that made Bennie like him. Nick looked independent; he walked, fought, scratched for and protected the hens independently and bravely. This spirit of independ¬ ence and peculiar dignity became firmly rooted in Bennie. As he noticed Nick walking around hunting worms and bugs for the ckickens, and his care for the hens, it taught him a lesson of care for those who were depend¬ ent on him for food and clothing, and he resolved that he would be as independent and as industrious as Nick. If one will but wratch the instincts of animals, in the relations of each to each, one can find lessons of duty to others, that would, followed out, increase the happi¬ ness of the' world. Were mankind each to follow the teachings of Christ, how blest would be the members of each family; how improved the condition of each citizen; and how far superior would be our Govern¬ ment. If each being would but use the spirit of brotherly love, with family, neighbor, friend and citizen, and measure each half-bushe! of dealing, as he would have it given him—heaped up and running over—the great yawning chasms now existing between members of families, between citizens, states and branches of the race would soon be spanned by iron bridges of real friendship, and the chain of humanity would be har¬ monious and complete. This spirit does not teach one to care for one's self only, and neglect others, nor to weep over one's own misfortune, and smile at the en- The First Fight. 41 emy's downfall, nor to take the larger portion and leave the lesser to those more deserving. It does not teach one to lie, to cheat, and to steal, but to love an¬ other as one's self. And this is an easy task, if the import of the verse be kept in mind: " For with what measure you mete, it shall be measured to you again." Qpapter l/l. The Wagon Boy. fROM the cradle to the grave, life is a struggle. Some aspire to fame, others to wealth, a few aim to do God's will without hope of fame or wealth, while others content themselves with a life of indolence and pleasure. A few happy ones possess the faculty of combining these aims into a truly enjoyable state of existence; but in any case it is appointed for all to toil, whethei4 by so doing they make themselves mis¬ erable or happy. The cause of so many blank lives is due largely to a certain amount of foolish pride, or lack of ambition and will power to do earnestly whatever the hand finds to do. The average young man and young woman of to-day is too proud to do any kind of honest labor to gain a firm foothold in life. If they cannot at once be placed in good lucrative positions, they refuse hum¬ ble ones, and so eke out an existence of want, living on support earned by others, rather than step by step, mount the ladder of fame. In early youth 'tis well to know the sphere of use¬ fulness one's natural inclinations fit one for. If these agree with the mental and physical organization of the person, then he must pursue the attainment of that (42) The Wagon Boy. 43 aim or desire, though his calling be humble. Thus his cultivated or acquired abilities in these lesser spheres, but strengthen and assist the whole being to reach a more exalted position in the region to which his nat¬ ural talent and ambitious aspirations beckon him. The sooner a child ascertains his fort, the sooner will lie be prepared to mount the ladder, passing up¬ ward from one field of labor to another until he meets with success in the sphere toward which he aimed. Yet he must be careful that he does not try to soar too high. The noblest ambition is that which fights against gin and .ignorance, poverty and shame; fights in dark¬ ness, for light; fights when down, to rise. This kind of ambition dies hard, or never dies at all. An am¬ bitious spirit is one which must be carefully dealt with —like the powder magazine, so useful, yet so danger¬ ous—it must be well guarded. This ardent thirst for honor and glorious achievement in any vocation; this intensity of soul that is unsatisfied with all it has done, and still has an unextinguished desire for doing more, is that dreaded spark which ignited and con¬ sumed the souls of earth's greatest men, and so ter¬ minates all ambitious greatness without goodness and godliness. Only that ambition is good which does good to the possessor and those who come in contact with him. There is to be seen daily, on every hand, instances of the remnants of young men and once beautiful girls, who are now total wrecks, the pictures of old age and despair, who cannot live long upon earth though but one-third of their days are past—sad wrecks—and in their faces what can be read? "My life has proven a blank." "I die young in years but old in crime!" 44 Poor Ben. "The monument I leave behind will read, 'Beware of the shoals and reefs that wrecked me.' " " How I might have blessed mankind!" Now turn the page, and on the other side are other instances. We see persons who have learned wisdom from experience, close observa¬ tion, deep reflection, and the intense application of both their physical and mental powers. This class, no doubt, forms the most useful part of society. There is an old adage—though homely, 'tis true: "Throw a man overboard, and if worth saving he will Save himself." At all events, many who have had great success have attained it through force of adverse circumstances rather than by foresight and friendly as¬ sistance. In the nineteenth century life is short. The child has matured at sixteen, has reached his prime at thirty, is old—past three score and ten—at fifty, and dies^ Childhood is the time to push ahead. Learn what you are best fitted for, and as soon as you have gotten on the right track and fully equipped turn on steam, push ahead, though you may only be on a gravel train, freight, caboose, or a smoking car; you can travel along j ust as others have done, over the same upward grade, and as fast as they, if you only keep up steam, and the track clear, and pursue your way until you arrive at the station you covet. Fine engines, palace cars, and splendid appoint¬ ments, are only the helps to success, which, without the motive power, that must be generated by the indi¬ vidual and governed by his indomitable will, will not earn dividends nor escape destruction. Bennie had continued in school during the winter months, and always found employment during the re¬ mainder of the year. He not only studied and learned The Wagon Boy. the lessons assigned him at school and at home, but he was daily storing his mind with practical lessons of morality, industry and thrift. In everything by which he was surrounded, he found something worthy of observation, and he applied his mind closely to suck things until they were fully understood or his curi¬ osity satisfied. Often personal experience taught him useful lessons, and whether pleasant or bitter, they were never to be forgotten. In the spring pf 1850 Ben had grown to be a strong robust boy of twelve years of age, and quite able to d© considerable work. He was at this time employed as®, wagon-boy. His business was to scotch " the wheels of the wagons, and assist in loading and unloading. His compensation was six dollars a month, and by this in¬ crease of labor and reward Ben reached the third round of his ladder. Being a lover of animals, he enjoyed be¬ ing where he could drive or in any w7ay attend to the horses. He spent many hours of royal fun with the men and horses, notwithstanding the fatiguing exer¬ cise such work demanded. During the campaign of 1852, the subject of our sketch was an off-bearer of brick, and the wagons of the brick yard were engaged to carry the delegation of men from Brownsville to Uniontown. The first day they carried the Whigs, or the Scott and Graham men. The drive of twelve miles was a pleasant one, and its pleasure was greatly enhanced by the many jovial and witty narrations of political stories, told as only poli¬ tical men filled with the spirit of their party can tell them, and emphasized with bursts of laughter, shouts, clapping, stamping, and Indian-like cheers. The day following, the Democrats, whose candidates 48 Poor Ben, these streams. Brownsville being situated at the head of river navigation, Ben readily found employment on one of the many steamers that plied the river lead¬ ing to the Mississippi. The steamer "John B. Gordon" ■was a small one, or what is called a low-wajter boat, that made bi-weekly trips from Brownsville to Mor¬ gan town, Va. On this boat Ben set out in the posi¬ tion of "knife shiner." This riverman's phrase meant that he would be expected to clean knives, and tins, or attend to any odd jobs the pantryman or steward might find for him to do. The spirit of willingness, and cheerfulnees, so prominent in his early life, t\ on for him friends, and made him the favorite with the eaptain and all who were employed on board. This justly earned and deserved friendship was more to him than his paltry wages. This humble station well filled made access to other and better work easy. After running for some time on this boat he accepted an of¬ fer on the " Atlantic," which ran between Pittsburg and Brownsville. Nothing that could be of interest to our leaders occurred while Ben was aboard the "Atlantic." The dull monotony of every-day life was endured by the proprietor and employees, while each day all the pas¬ sengers declared everything "delightful and charming." Ben was finally transferred to the "Australia," a very large boat, and made several trips to St. Louis. In the meantime he had been working his way up. He was ®ften found in the pilot house learning to manage things in that department, or down with the firemen or engineer, studying the wonderful mechanism of the engine ; then up in the pantry, learning the mysteries ©f bow and where the sweets were made and kept. Ever trusty, apt and business like, he was often en- Steamboat and Hotel Life. 49 trusted with the pro tern, management of these several departments, and when left in charge of affairs never proved false to the trust placed in him. In the year 1856, Ben became pantryman on the " Belle Golden." In this office he prepared all cold dishes for the tables, had full chargo of the pastries, fruits, wines, preserves, weighed and sent out all the coffee, teas, flour, etc. needed in the culinary depart¬ ment. During this year the cholera raged, and Ben suffered an attack, but was fortunate in that as in oth¬ er epochs, and survived while thousands perished. During the downward trip to St. Louis, a slave and a mule were among the other cargo, the Negro receiv¬ ing the same fare with the live-stock. They were hur¬ ried on board at Louisville, Ky. Before they had gone very far the poor slave was seized with a severe attack of cholera. Without a friend, even without a bed, he lay in intense agony. Ben, hearing his piteous groans, went to him, and finding him seriously ill, had the poor fellow placed in his bed, and did all he could to relieve his sufferings. Several of the working hands watched with Ben at the bedside of the poor man, who prayed for death not only as a relief from bodily pain but for freedom of body and soul from that reign of terror, slavery. His cries of racking pain, his pleading request and yearning prayer, "Oh, Lord, how much longer? " wotild have melted the hearts of those who held the price of his departing soul. Death came to his relief at four o'clock the following morning, and the carpenter of the boat, assisted by Bennie,' made a coffin of rough boards and placed all that was mortal in it. Bennie then secured the services of a few deck¬ hands to act as pall-bearers, th£ boat was run ashore at 60 Poor Ben. Slim Island, and there these kind hearts hid from view the form of the slave, whose lot of toil and anguish had never been brightened by kindness and brother¬ ly love until this his dying hour. No one stood near with God's word to cheer him; none save the few hearts that bled in compassion were near to cast a farewell glance at the cold, stark, unyielding features; no eminent divine pronounced the burial rite. On deck, stood wealthy christian slave owners, jesting with heartless sneers, wearing the Maker's image as a screen¬ ing mask, knowing too well that the dead slave was made in God's own likeness, too. As the rough pine box wras borne across the gang plank to the lonely island in the Ohio river, the specta¬ tors on the decks of the boat knew that it held only "Worthless dust, while deep in their hearts wTas a certain consciousness that a precious ransom had been paid for the soul, one that was greater than all human price. The slave's body was no longer in bondage; his spirit was as free as the white-winged messengers of God into whose glorious company it had taken flight. While the deck-hands scooped a shallow grave for one who had been doomed to be the Christian's slave for years, his free soul was winging its flight to a righteous heaven where no slave chains are forged. The impression made upon Ben's mind will ever be eo bright that his sensibilities will always be capable of giving form and color to the scene; it gave a keen¬ er edge to his compassion for his brethren in chains, and to his love of race, freedom and equality. The "A.G.Mason" wTas the next boat on which Ben was employed. This steamer made regular trips from St. Louis, Mo. to St. Paul, Minn. Our young Seeamboat and Hotel Life. 51 boatman had a strong love of home, and when things did not run along with marble like smoothness he longed for a glimpse of dear old Brownsville and a word or two with mother. His cultivated vagrancy, however, did not allow him much time to linger amidst home scenes, but would carry him" off to the tropics and try to make him feel at home with the palm and fig trees; or his mind, which he daily fed on books of travel, would cause the theater of his imagination to stretch away into the colder latitudes of the northern zones; and, in this way he had learned to like a change of climate and surroundings. He was charmed with his first trip toward the source; of the Mississippi. This great, dark, rapid liver, that in its lower latitudes flowed, moaned and groaned like an unending sorrow, now seemed to warble a more cheerful song; its color was less dismal, and the sky it reflected was a clearer blue; the clouds moved with a more perfect freedom; and the leaves, the birds, the laborers at work in the fields—all seemed to move to and fro with that air of physical liberty which did not exist below. It was only this that made the contrast. Spring and liberty smiled as they laid a happy-seem¬ ing spell on all the out-door world. The river banks were lighted up with a new brightness; no feeling of imprisonment prevented deep inhalations of the wild- wood fragrance; no cotton-picking slaves brought tears of pity from the heart to the eyes; no inhuman faces of the overseers were seen to arouse the accursed pas¬ sion of hatred. The only thought that carried sorrow to the heart and brought a sigh in return, was caused by the unrelenting purpose of old Father Time to hide the secret of the future freedom of the black man in 52 Poor Ben. his slow, mighty, but regular pulsing heart. No won¬ der the less picturesque scenery of the northern banks of the Mississippi had a far greater attraction for Ben, than the luxurant verdure, dense foliage, great variety of tone poems as warbled forth by gay-plumed birds, of the tropics, and exquisit odors of flowers, gorge¬ ously dyed, growing in wildness, or in cultivated gar¬ dens. The former presents a picture of freedom, vir¬ tue and Jiappiness; the latter, slavery, vice and misery. During the first run to St. Paul, after Ben had set to work on the "Mason," he saw a great many Indians on the right or Wisconsin bank. As they neared the landing these Chippewas came down to the dock to observe and see if there was a chance of getting ''fire¬ water." Ben, not having seen any Indians before, was greatly interested, and began talking with them. One Indian suddenly asked: " You got whiskey? Gimme whiskey!" The gutteral tone used by the savage some¬ what startled Ben; but he said, "I have no whiskey." "You lie! you lie! you lie!"—The very woods seemed to echo it, and it so suddenly frightened Ben that he hastily returned to the deck with his curiosity about Chippewa Indians satisfied. The following fall, the steamboat " \Y. M. Morrison," making regular trips between St. Louis and New Or¬ leans, wanted a storekeeper, and Ben, whose name and integrity had become well known in steamboat circles, WTas employed. Mr. Wm, Davis was at that time head steward and Mr. Wm. Goff head pantryman. In those days steamboats were considered the most popular and' pleasant means of travel. It was also customary for boats to engage in racing, and the finest and most.excit- ing scenes to be witnessed on the Mississippi is a steam- Steemboat and Hotel Life. 53 boat race. It is one, however, which timid, nervous persons enjoy most when seen from the land, and bold, reckless ones when on board the participating boats. It was Ben's privilege to become deeply interested in a race that took place between the " W. H. Harrison" and the "Virginia." They ran along, side by side for seven or eight hours; so close were they that the deck boys could and did step over on the neighboring boat. An inch gained by either vessel was greeted with shouts and cheers from every officer, passenger and deck-hand on the leading boat—even the ladies clap¬ ped their hands and waved their handkerchiefs. Fi¬ nally the Morrisson steamed ahead, and in a few hours had so distanced the Virginia that she was pronounced the winner. Ben continued following steamboating as long as navigation was open, finishing each year in waiting at hotels. <$l?apter l/lll. A Great Misfortune. No human being ever had a bright, healthful and euccessful morning of life, with an unbroken line of hopes whose fruition came in turn, to cheer, bless and urge him on to greater desires, but ere the noontide or evening of life was reached, did find his body writhing and his heart ready to break beneath the weight of some sorrow or misfortune. No cloudless morn has ever dawned but what has shown some speck of shad¬ owy cloud to some mortal beneath its canopy. In all divine architecture there is nothing so entire¬ ly admirable, no monument so grand and imposing as a brave wretched man or woman—one who has had clouds of sorrow and. misfortune spread wide, heaped high and lowered deep into the soul, and yet has tri¬ umphed over all and learnd to wear these miseries as sacred fillets upon his brow. 'Tis better so; could we pibut fathom the griefs of others, ours would be so shal¬ low. Socrates was wise in his comment on unhappiness when he said: " If all the misfortunes of mankind were cast into a public stock, in order to be equally distributed among the whole species, those who now think themselves the most unhappy would prefer the (54) 56 Poor Ben. ing through the city; when they were about to sepa¬ rate, Mossett playfully began tapping Ben, as though about to open a round of boxing. "Hold up, there, Wash, I must get back to the boat," said Ben, at the same time giving Washington a slap. "Good bye, Wash." Good bye, old boy," said Wash, kicking at Ben as he spoke. With this playful, boyish parting each turned at once to go his way. But Washington Mossett's foot, so carelessly thrown out to trip Ben, struck the already sore ankle, bruising it badly. Ben called a good physician, had the wound dressed, and faithfully followed the instruction given him; yet it steadily grew worse and eventually turned into osteo sat" coma, or bone cancer. This rapidly spread and grew in size, until the ankle measured eighteen inches in cir¬ cumference. Notwithstanding his intense suffering as the disease daily worked its way to the extremity of the foot, and upward toward the knee, Ben did not give up his t^sk. When the Lake City lay up, he went on the "Tele¬ graph," and from her to the " Dunbar." In Septem¬ ber, 1856, he found it impossible to follow the river any longer, and went ashore and began work in the Perry Hotel, at Pittsburg. Though his leg was very sore and extremely pninful, he worked his way up from knife-shiner to head waiter. The truth was slowly dawning upon Ben's mind that there was but one hope of his life, and even that ray of hope shone dimly through the clouds of doubt and despair. He saw the necessity of earning and saving all he possibly could, in order to secure the best surgical skill for the trying ordeal. Reader, you cannot enter into full sympathy with the feelings of A Great Misfortune. 57 suffering Ben, whose mental anguish almost equaled his physical. You cannot fully appreciate the dread, hope, fear, and grief, which, mingled with bodily pain, cause an acute agony almost unbearable, unless you have undergone torture of the same character. During the winter of 1857-8 he was obliged to aband¬ on work and go home. Here he wras warmly greeted by a loving mother and devoted relatives and friends, and all that constant attention and careful nurs¬ ing and medical aid could do to make Ben comforta¬ ble, was done. Time wore tediously away until early spring, when the tumor had reached such an advanced stage that Poor Ben had but the choice of death, whose only alternative was amputation. Though hope is called a delusion, Ben did not allow despair to step in and warp his judgment, so he thrust one hand of hope forward, pushed, with a desperate effort, despair into the back ground, holding her there; then with the full assurance that his helper was omnipotent, hope grasped with her other hand the shadowy wing of death that is ever spread over the human body, and thus with his soul tilled with a perfect trust in God, and hope quickening his energy, he said, "Send for the doctors, I am ready for the operation." To know the real value of life, or have a perfect idea of self, one must have stood at least once at the gate of death, been forced to the door-sill of suicide, or driven to-the brink of insanity. March, 1858, was the time set for the amputation, and the physicians chosen were Dr. G. W. McCook of Pittsburg, Drs. M. 0. Jones and W. S. Duncan of Brownsville, all of whom were men of large and suc¬ cessful practice in medicine and surgery. Dr. Duncan, 68 Poor Ben. who attended him after the operation, was a young graduate from the Philadelphia Medical College, and one who had a full and rich experience of hospital practice. He practiced the most skilled and modern methods of treatment and having had charge of simi¬ lar cases he worked with a perfect knowledge in dress¬ ing the wound and nursing Poor Ben back to health. Ben was one of those boys who had become a gener¬ al favorite with every one in his native town and wherever he was known. All the promineat white citizens as well as his colored friends, came with flow¬ ers, delicacies, and warm and sympathizing hearts, to ask after and assist in watching over Poor Ben. In every house the conversation was about him. Daily, some one would say: "Poor Ben! I wonder how he is to-day? I must run and see him." Another good heart would breathe aloud "Poor Ben!" while her hands were busy cutting the few opening buds from the petted plants, or arranging dainty bits of "nice things" to tem^t the appetite of poor helpless Ben. Humanity is never so depraved and debased by wealth or poverty, education or ignorance, pride or humility, high rank or low station, but what the inherent noble¬ ness of common nature will betray itself in the pure sympathy it displays and responds to in the society by which it is surrounded. The sympathy that gave to a young being whose ekin was dark, whose circumstances were adverse, an appel¬ lation that will cling with a sweet, sad meaning to him through life, and live after he is dead, is that passion in nature whose ear is so fine and keen that it hears the heart pulsations of all " Poor Bens" whether they proceed from beneath a glove-fitting suit of black, A Grqat Misfortune, 59 brown, yellow, red or white skin; whether the vesture which modified their voice be adverse or prosperous," whether the outward cloak be one of Democratic opin¬ ion or Republican, Protestant or Catholic sentiment. It is simply yet grandly what the Irish wit has termed it—"a fellow-feeling for a fellow in the same way as he feels for himself; that is, in a way to reach him." It was in this manner that the sympathy of the en¬ tire community was given to Poor Ben, who for twen¬ ty-eight long weary days and nights had to lie in one position. "Poor Ben!" being at times the only rest or comfort that could be rendered. He accepted it as it was given—lovingly—and it often soothed, while with a prayer half uttered he would fall into a qui¬ et sleep. He knew the watchers could not relieve him, and did not grow restless or impatient under his close confinement, but bore all that was laid upon him with a strength of quiet endurance that was as signifi¬ cant of courage and christian fortitude as the most daring feats and martyr-like suffering. After the crisis had passed Poor Ben began mend¬ ing, slowly at first, then more rapidly; and in these convalescent days he had time for study and reflection. Each day brought to mind the pleasing remembrance of the many benefits and friendly offices he had re¬ ceived. No regrets for neglected opportunities rose to lash his conscience, for Poor Ben had always been kind to the poor and suffering wherever he met them. Now he saw the verification of that beautiful passage, "As ye sow, so shall ye reap," and after blessing oth¬ ers he found himself doubly blest. In this heavy visitation of Providence in the loss of his leg, he did not find like Pharoah, a punishment, but like David, and happiness reigned in both hearts, Louise said, "Ben, I have been suffering from a felon on my right hand, and could not write to you; nor dare I get any 80 Poor Ben. one to write, for fear it would become known, that we are lovers.'1 Of course Ben's great loving heart had long since pardoned her silence; but now his forgiveness and sympathy found utterance in such sentences as onl}7 true lovers can frame. Soon after this Poor Ben concluded that according to biblical teachings, it was not good for man to be alone. He felt the force of the great historic fact which shows for six thousand years, that in the exercise of unlimited control of all affairs, man becomes a des¬ pot. The annals of kings confirm the truth of this; and the records of domestic life, proclaim it with tongues cf thunder. Thcro muet be gome restraining influence, brought to bear on that most wonder¬ ful animal man, or the turbulent waves of his vicious propensities will swell higher and higher, until they sweep over the land-marks of reason, love and honor. The frail bark, thus overwhelmed, sinks into depths of endless despair. Poor Ben knew the comforting, magnetic influence of a mother's and sisters affections; and could easily surmise the more potent, refining power of a wife's un¬ tiring love. It was with such manly sentimemts that he at once decided to have a wife —to take to his life long keeping, the Louise of his heart. The question was soon settled between the two lovers; but Ben thought of the dreaded duty of asking mother for daughter. This was the most unpleasant part of his court-ship. Accordingly, he went in the morning to see Louise's mother; he conversed on every topic of the day; he started at least fifty times, but his courage failed, and his tongue could not utter a word on the 82 Poor Ben. found only in the highest walks of life, these two may seem insipid and common-place. But love acts the same with intelligent souls, whether ot high or low estate. There is an ethereal, bird-like existence con¬ nected with every lover's history. Yet often the de¬ lights and secret joys of soul, that hold spell-bound the lover's hearts, contrast most strangely with the vicissitudes of after-life. The dazzling sunlight of courtship may afterward be tempered by clouds of sorrow; yet no cloud can destroy that great sun-li^e orb—the god of love. It is this that lights the true lover's pathway through earth, pierces the blackness of the tomb, and makes eternity a city of light. The engagement, that lasted a number of years, was becoming very irksome, and Poor Ben, thought of his strong love for and weak means of supporting a wife- However he decided to consult Mary Louise; and if she was willing to share his poverty, they would no longer wait for the pleasing smile of fortune. "I wonder, Louise, if I can take care of you, said Ben, in a very despondent tone one day. There was such a wealth of love in Louise's young heart, that she felt no fear of poverty. She knew he would be her guardian angel, and would do and bear anything for her sake. So she made him this most noble answer: "Well, Ben, when you cannot take care of me, I shall take care of you." Such love is a religion in itself; it either wholly saves or destroys those whom it effects. Its ennobling influence was their salvation as the reader will see here after. Having fully determined the course they wrere to pursue, they moved on toward ;the verge of matri- Love, Courtship and Marriage. 83 mony, without swerving, and with a saturnine stern¬ ness that ever performs what it intends. A few months rolled by, and Poor Ben and Mary Louise were quietly married by the Rev. George Brown, President of Madison College, at Uniontown, Pennsylvania, May 25th, 1858. No cards were issued nor cakes cut, parlors crowded with guests with wed¬ ding souvernirs, until twenty years of care, toil and sorrow had proven their vows of love. If the reader will allow a short diversion, the writer will give a pleasing recollection of the minister who officiated at the marriage of our subject. The Rev. George Brown is doubtless a familiar name to the fathers and-mothers who may read this sketch of him. A pioneer preacher of Pennsylvania. He was born in an Indian fort, in Washington County > not more than forty miles from Pittsburg, on the 29th of January, 1792. When a lad of six or seven years of age, he swam the Ohio, at the tail of an ox that was going across. He held on with one hand and pad¬ dled with the other, something like a boy ith a sled, who steals a ride behind a sleigh. It was quite a dan¬ gerous experiment, for the river was at its June flood and was very deep. But young George was going to his mother, and safely reached the shore. He had also a thrilling adventure in a wolf den, among the hills of Eastern Ohio, when he was about twelve years old. While a comrade stood at the mouth of the den, with a loaded gun to attend to the old wolf if she came, George Brown went down into the dark cavern, feet fore-most, to a good distance, and brought out the young wolves, one or two at a time, until he had taken them all. The boys sold the wolf scalps at 84 Poor Ben. Steubenville, Ohio, for some pocket silver, and the record of the transaction is on the old books at the Court House, in Stenbenville, to this day. George Brown, in later life, became a great camp- meeting preacher. He traveled over large circuits and occupied important positions and offices in the church. He was a lover of his race and believed in human rights and liberty. He was once pastor of the First Metho¬ dist Protestant Church of Pittsburg, was Editor of the now Methodist Recorder. He compiled a hymn book for the church, was President of the General Conven¬ tion^ and Conferences, and of Madison College. Dr. Brown was everywhere beloved for his genial ways and eminent worth. Though a very tender-hearted man, yet his courage to do right, and his willingness to suffer for the truth's sake, \yere as great as his tenderness. He died in good peace, at Springfield, Ohio, October 25th, 1871; and a beautiful monument in Fern Cliff Cemetery, marks his last resting place. His two sons, both ministers, died before their father, his wife a lovable old lady, Mrs. Eliza Brown, sur¬ vived him about six years; and a daughter, the only remaining member of the family, now resides in Mis¬ sissippi. Readers, I have introduced you to the man, who launched Poor Ben's boat on thafr conjugal sea, wliose latitudinal and longitudinal lines no navigator has yet ever traced. But once launched and anchor weighed, the craft floated on with its inmates for twenty long years; and in peering for land they often found a treasure, or monster, a pearl, or tempest their reward. Twenty years a backward glance shows a chain of Love, Courtship and Marriage. 85 labor, care, of battle and retreat, of victory and defeat. But there have been many joys, that shine out like so many stars; all through this chain of years they shine—diamonds in value. Twenty Peals! Hear the bell of the St. Paul A. M. E. Church, at Urbana, Ohio . 'Tis a joyful wedding peal; and each chime caused the hearts of Poor Ben and Mary Louise to thrill with a stronger emotion, a true love than they did twenty years ago! Twenty years ago, their history began; they had nought to record. Of money they had little, of friends they had few, of cake and rich gifts they had. none Now peace and prosperity beamed upon them from every direction; friends were gathered to bestow costly presents; tables well appointed and filled to repletion, awaited the ap¬ proach of bride and groom. The announcment that the 25th of May, had arrived was the signal for the friends of Poor Ben to inaugur¬ ate a celebration. At an early hour the people began to assemble, though the exercises did not begin until nine o'clock. When the prominent guests arrived they were shown into Poor Ben's study, where were gathered his wife and children, Rev. Spahr, Mayor Deuel, Ex-Mayor, Brand, Mr. Gribble, of the News and others. The good peo¬ ple of Urbana were hurrying to and fro in haste, get¬ ting ready for the exercises. At nine they entered the Auditorium. The pulpit was so arranged as to admit the organ and singers, while the speakers sat at the left, occupying the en¬ closure used by the choir. Prof. Chavers presided at the organ, admirably exe¬ cuting the 'Wedding March at the opening. 88 Poor Ben. when she returned home (referring to Mr. Hitt bring¬ ing her along to do the speaking.) She then extended her warmest wishes to the husband and wife, and to the people in having so good a pastor. A. C. Deuel, said it might be going outside the pro¬ gram, but he should like to hear a word from Poor Ben. In response Poor Ben made a few timely and well chosen remarks. Of course his thoughts carried him back twenty years. He gave a short sketch of his marriage, spoke freely when he referred to his wife; that if there was any eredit due him, three-fourths of it must be given to Louise; for what he was, was lnrge- ly due to her; that while he struggled to get an edu¬ cation, she toiled at the wash tub, and kept the wol? from the door; and that he was happy to receive such warm congratulations, as had just been bestowed upon them. He spoke of his love for his wife, and that he loved her now better than he ever did; that he had done all he could to build himself up, so he could help build up his people. He contrasted the present and the past, and as a clincher of the wonderful change in things, politically and socially, said that to-morrow he would read a full account of his china wedding, in the " Daily Union Democrat,"and send the glad news to his mother in Pennsylvania. Twenty years ago, said he, "this could, nor would not have been done for any member of my race! With sincere thanks to all, he took his seat. Then immediately began the heartiest of hand shaking, and copgratulator}'' comments from the large assemblage of guests present; while others waiting an opportunity, had clustered around the tables that were loaded with gifts of china sets, bricabrac, and more substantial arT Love, Courtship and Marriage. 89 tides of dress goods, linen, groceries, etc. A line of march was formed later in the evening for the lecture room, where an elegant collation of dainties was served. Here every one seemed particularly happy, and we are of the opinion that every one was happy. Here is to be noticed how these two natures pre¬ served through twenty long years of toil and hardship, the poetry of love's first passionate illusion. It is this alone, which makes wedlock the seal that confines true affection and prevents it from being a mocking cere¬ monial, that constitutes the grave of wedded bliss. We will swiftly and silently pass over a lapse of five years, leaving the record of their failures and successes to be mentioned in other chapters. Without allowing curiosity to lead you to ask what the intervening events were, let us suddenly transport you, Poor Ben and his family from Urbana, to his now spacious residence at Wilberforce, Ohio. Do. I hear old Mother Eve within you ask, "How did he get there?" "The top is not reached by a single bound. He climbed the lad¬ der round by round." Nevertheless, it is Thursday evening, and a merry party of relatives and friends have gathered at the Tawawa Chimney Corner—the home of Poor Ben, to celebrate the twenty-fifth return of their marriage date. On the verandas, surrounding the house, in halls, dining rooms and parlors could be heard the joyous notes of mirth and laughter. Friends from far and near were there assembled, and the happy bride and groom, though their hair was tinted with silver, fit counterpart, seemed to lift the veil, and look back two and one half decades; when they launched their boat upon the sea of life, with all its hopes; with all its 90 Poor Ben, fears. Around them are gathered their family of six children, who bless their happy home, and season life with peace and joy. At 9 o'clock the organ sounded the wedding march, and Drs. Johnson and Gaines headed the marriage par¬ ty, while the family followed into the front parlor, where Bishop Campbell, D.D., LL.D., lead in fervent prayer, after which Bishop Brown performed the cere¬ mony; speaking of his personal knowledge of the fami¬ ly the benefit of holy and happy wedlock, and then pro¬ nounced his blessing upon the happy couple. ThiHf was followed by congratulations from over one hun¬ dred guests. To place a rough estimate upon the value of the presents received, it would be nearly five hundred dol¬ lars. Among the regrets sent were the following: Comp¬ troller Wm. Lawrence, Hon. J. W. Keifer, Hons. W. G. Deshler and F. L. Sessons, Dr. B. T. Tanner and Prof. Delaney. We shall give only a short list of the distinguished guests present: Father David Smith in his one hun- dreth year, Bishops Brown, Tanner, Campbell, Dicker- son, Wayman and Shorter; Drs. Johnson and Gaines of Georgia; C. S. Smith, M. D. of Bloomington, 111.; Johnson and Fitzhugh of Baltimore, Md.; Turner of Washington, D. C.; Beckett of Wilmington, Del.; Profs. Shorter, Hackley, Delaney, Maxwell and wife of Willberforce. Supper was served at ten o'clock, and the tables fair¬ ly groand beneath the weight of all the luxuries of the season. All enjoyed the occasion, amid the shower of wishes that Poor Ben and his amiable wife might see 92 Poor Ben. othet hand, love will degrade; it will bring man down from the highest walks of moral and social distinct¬ ion to a companionship with felons, dumb brutes, or worse, a suicidal death. In the present time there is little love like that of E. Allen Poe; none like that of the Irish lover, whose pleadings inspired Moore to write, "Come Rest in this Bosom." We find more of Will Carleton's Betsey and Caleb's, who do not make up again, scattered over the world like dead leaves of autumn. Autumnal wrecks from out of whose debris, there never springs a true blossom for the perpetual spring of love. Bickerings and separations; like consumption, run in the family for many generations. This signifies strongly that the essential design of courtship is to grant opportunity. Knowing each oth¬ er, a congenial courtship, succeeding a mutual love, ever makes a happy marriage. Many to day are aiming to many for policy, money, convenience, beauty, ability, social standing, and ev¬ ery other motive but love. It is a rare treat now, to hear a girl say, I married for love. She who marries money without the love of the man, will soon find herself moneyless and manless. She who marries the love of the man without the money, will ever know that she is both manned and moneyed. In the instance of the love, courtship and the mar¬ riage of the couple which now absorbs our attention, the little blind, winged god was at the head of their kingdom twenty-five years ago, and after the elapse of this period, his long reign had made a little despot of him, and he had crowned and enthroned himself as supreme monarch of the kindom of Poor Ben and ^lyapter J(lll. The Y. M. C. A. £j|\OUBTLESS many of our readers would like to xEJ know something more of the Young Men's Chris¬ tian Association. That such an organization ex¬ ists, this all know. But what is it? What does it do with and for young men? Is it a new church? How old is it? Who was its founder? Is it Catholic or Protestant? Some good motive led to the establishment of church boards of missions. When churches were weak, each denomination could not support a home nor a foreign missionary. The field of labor was a great one, and the means of supporting laborers, small. This called for a combined fund from all churches, and all worked in harmony for the common good. Precisely the same causes led to the establishment of societies for the publication and distribution of tracts and of the bible, and for work among the freedmen, seamen and other qiasses of people, Thirty-five years ago, it seemed to maiay thoughtful observers, in our large cities, that an organization was needed whose special work should be to labor for and among the young men. This class was becoming as distinctive as that of seamen or foreigners. Some of these men go into large cities with fixed re- (94) The Y. M. C. A. 97 *1 and physical condition of young men, by the support and maintenance of lectures, libraries, reading-rooms, eocial and religious meetings, and other such means as may conduce the accomplishment of those objects, not contrary to the teaching of the bible. The various departments or the services of the 5T. M. C. A. are as follows: Committees on Hospital, Jail, U. S. Barracks, Strangers' Home, City Workhouse; by whom Monday prayer meetings, Sabbath evening ser¬ vices, bible classes etc. are held. At the rooms, fre« lectures, concerts, laymeDs' institutes, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and new years' dinners are given. There are also committees on Lyceum, Music, Employment, ReceptioD, Prayer meetings, Open Air Services, Bible Class, Lectures, City and County Jails, and on Station Houses. * Poor Ben became an active member of the Y. M. C. A. while residing in Toledo, Ohio, in 1870. He was sent, a year later, as a delegate to the International As¬ sociation, which convened in Washington, D. C., June, 1871. Before the session closed, the entire body visit¬ ed the White House, and were received by Pres. Grant, and, before leaving the reception room, made its walls ring with that favorite hymn, " All Hail the Power of Jesus' Name." The delegates also visited the tomb of Washington, at Mt. Vernon. This was the first time Poor Ben had viewed the sacred resting place of the ashes of our country's father. His theme of discourse at this convention was "The stand the Y. M. C. A. takes in relation to the colored young men." His argument was ably put and well received. 98 'Poor Ben. He was again sent as a delegate to the State Con¬ vention of .Ohio, in .1872. In 1880 Poor Ben was appointed one of the speakers at the State Convention of the Y. M. C. A., which was held at Zanesville, Ohio, and delivered the address in response- to the address of welcome. During this ses¬ sion »he was deputized to bear the fraternal greetings to the -London^ England, Association of the Y. M. C. A. When the Y. M. C. A. met at St. Paris, Ohio, Poor Ben wacj appointed to deliver the annual address. This was the first instance in which a man of color had ever filled this position on the program in the history of the Association. He also conducted the meeting of the Y. M. C. A. which met atjhe railroad depot of Col¬ umbus, Ohio. <$l?apter fl . In Business. « §USINESS is defined as a calling or profession. It generally relates in some way to trade; yet isjustas appropriate a term to use in designating any regular oc¬ cupation. Wherever mankind exists and is capable of carry¬ ing on trade of various kinds and engaging in com¬ merce, there may be found a high state of civilization, ^he exchange of products between nations is one of earth's greatest benefits, inasmuch as it banishes na¬ tional feeling of bitterness, does away with local preju¬ dices, makes each branch of the human family feel its dependency upon the other branches, and creates ties of interest and good will. Our mechanical, mercantile, and agricultural in¬ terests are studied with as much earnestness by the European and Asiatic, as we study theirs. Why? Because we are each dependent on the other. Truth and justice are the foundation of all legitimate trade and commerce, and such business showers wealth on every race variety that constitute a nation. When the day dawns, in which the black man shall belong to the throng of bankers, merchants, druggists, grocers, doctors, lawyers, hotel proprietors, tradesmen of various kinds, and be patronized by all, without (99) 100 Poor Ben. evincing any spirit of national antipathy —it will be a glorious one for our nation. At present we are denied the opportunity of enter¬ ing into many callings or trades; but there is a brighter outlook for the young men of to-day than twenty five years ago, when Poor Ben was young. He nevertheless formed business habits when quite young. He did all the marketing and shopping for his mother and thus learned to drive a good'bargain It also fell to his lot, to do all the steward's trading for the various boats, on which he was employed. This business tact cultivated in boyhood, had a ten¬ dency to fit him for the monetary positions of after life. At that date good and rapid penmen of color were rare, and great were the demands made upon the few to transact business, draw up notes, bills and other documents, in correct legal form. Poor Ben found plenty of gratis work to do in this direction, to say nothing of the numerous letters from the boys in blue, to be read and answered, for the dear ones at home. All this made him quite familiar with written matter so essential to the vocabulary of every business man. He possessed nearly all those traits needed to make an active and successful tradesman; but his future was to be a different calling. He had not, in 1864, entered into his life work. At the above date, he entered the office of James M. Abrams, a dentist, as an apprentice, and completed the course; and for some time worked at mechanical and practical dentistry He could not only pull down but could build up that which had become dilapidated He made a tooth and located it in his teacher's—Dr. In Business. 101 Abram's mouth. Hence, as a tooth carpenter Poor Ben was a success. While studying in the profession, he carefully ex¬ amined the disease of the antrum. He found a case re¬ ported by a French physician. Poor Ben, had an uncle who lived in the country, and was suffering from a sim¬ ilar affection. After sending for his uncle and examin¬ ing it closely, Poor Ben thought he would try his skill On what the other dentists had given up without un¬ derstanding or even giving relief. He first extracted a tooth, bored a hole into the base of the antrum, which gave immediate relief; and took from the cavity a gill or more of prurient mat¬ ter. This was the first cessation of pain the patient had felt for months. Placing a silver tube into the open¬ ing he carefully washed the cavity with arnica tincture, and the patient returned home a well and happy man, and has never felt a pain from the samSe cause, up to the present date—1889. Shortly after this Poor Ben received his title of Dr. for the first time. He did not practise long, it not be¬ ing lucrative enough to support him. Doubtless it would be well here to speak of a busi¬ ness enterprise started some years ago, of which Poor Ben was the originator, assisted by Ludlow Apjones, Of Ohio. Africa extends from thirty-five degrees south to thirty - nine degrees north, five thousand miles; and from Cape Verde to Cape Guardafui, in distance some three thousand miles from east to west. While there are table-lands and vast lake regions, and water- eoaked plains, and other peculiar formations in given localities, we may say, in general, it is diversi- 1.02 Poor Ben. Ged as are other continents. Mountains rear their rugged heads, and conceal in their vast breasts metals and minerals, which God had fore-ordained from the ^beginningof the world for the use of man. Rivers form natural high ways,and refresh the adjacent countries with their moisture. Extensive forests cover whole ^countries, protect them from the heatofthe sun, and are ready to be used for buildings, ship-timber, dye-woods, and the thousand applications of the civilization which will require their use. In all Africa, grains and fruits of all kinds furnish perpetual crops, and cotton and other cloth-producing trees and plants are perennial. In the infancy of the human race, Africa boasted of being the most civilized of those times, and the just¬ ness of its claims is attested by monuments which are where he remained until May, 1873. On taking charge of Wairen Chapel, he found a good but in¬ complete building, which had been standing unfin¬ ished for over six years. Poor Ben, contrary to the judgement of the Trustees, set to work to finish the church, and six months later it was completed and dedicated. Bishop Payne conducted -the dedicatory exercises. Text Psalm 27, 4-6. Rev. R. B. Pope, of St. Paul M. E. Church, preached in the afternoon from the 17th Psalm, 7th verse. In the evening Rev. S. S. Baxter of the Lagrange St. 142 Poor Ben. Occupy all your time. Visit your charge. Work for God and humanity. Pray for success." The examination, that is the annual examina¬ tions, will be held at the homes of the members, and in writing. Lists of questions will be fowarded to them, and by writing the replies the committee on examinations can judge whether they have read thoughtfully the books required. But it is not inten¬ ded to prevent any one from attending the annual meeting of the T. T. S. C., and enjoying the lectures and addresses of the same. The association will be divided into eleven schools or ^divisions, with courses of study, as follows: 1. The Sunday School Normal Department. 2. The Secular Teachers' Department. 3. The School of Elecution and Sacred Rhetoric. 4. The school of Languages. 5. The School of Natural Sciences. 6. The School of Art. 7. The School of 'Theology. 8. The School of Philosophy. 9. The College of Music. 10. The "Tawawa Scientific, and Literary Lecture Course." 11. The Tawawa "Chimney- Corner Circle." Besides the successful endeavors of Poor Ben to establish the Tawawa Scientific, Theological and Lit¬ erary Association, he has also succeeded in placing in¬ to the hands of the reading public a number of works pertaining to his Church. He has the following books in manuscript form, ready for publication: "The Lights along the Jordan," "Fifty Years in the Field, or the A. M. E. Church, in Ohio." "The Life a4id 'Time's of Solomon H. Thompson," and "Methodism 144 Poor Ben. nature Is armory of genius; wipe out the assertion that we are only imitative surface creatures; and show that like the 3ake, beneath our surface lies a living world of matter, millions of fathoms deep. When we have stirred the depths of our national pride, others will cease to ridicule, aad fear to come in willing contact with our ei&ms.^ts. 146 Poor Ben. particular causes for producing particular effects. One, from the scenes and events that have fallen under his observation, iliay have many associations connec¬ ted with a particular object, which another may have never formed. One may go forth in the evening and gaze upon the starry heavens, and the moon strolling in her majesty, and feel emotions of sublimity. If so, we sa}' he is a man of sensibility—from the original constitution of his mind, he is susceptible of emotioup. and of taste to a high degree. His intellectual habits and. the circumstances of his life, have strengthened an made a strong speech about the "Press," in which he showed the importance of that factor of civilization, and promised the support of his paper to everything having in view the betterment of the colored man. Mr. G. A. Weaver as the best looking man present, responded to the sentiment, "The ladies." Had any of the fair sex been present they must have been high¬ ly pleased with the eloquent praises given them by the young orator, and even the fifty-three men who lis¬ tened to him were compelled to give noisy evidence of the coincidence of their views with his. Mr. C. L. Maxwell ended the toasting by respond¬ ing to a call from the master of ceremonies to tell about •'The David Jenkins Club." His speech was eloquent and loudly applauded. General J. S. Robinson, Adjutant General Axline, Rev. Jas. Poindexter and State Treasurer J. C. Brown were called upon, and spoke in glowing terms of the Negro's past and future. Between toasts splendid music was furnished bj'tho Clipper Quartette, composed of Messrs. John Brown, Ben. F. Payne, George Redd and Walter Spotswood, After their first song they were encored three times, on one occasion giving a song in which Mr. Redd was Two Years a Representative. 193 given a chance to show his qualities as a warbler. It was pronounced as fine as any professional's warbling. Mr. Dan F. Smith, of the Exchange Hotel clerical force, sang the bass solo. The banquet was in every respect a success, and re¬ flected great credit upon the management. The A. If. E. Church. 197 He made his first visit to this district, July, 1888, and Bince his episcopal residence in South Carolina, he has done much toward building up Allen University, and has increased the number of students to three hundred and ninety. Through his efforts a new chapel has been built and paid for. The following statement will show the financial progress made during the first two years of Poor Ben's administration: Increase in Dollar Money. Columbia, in two years, has increased $2,646.37 S. Carolina, " " " $1,244.06 Florida, " " " $1,227.45 E. " " " " $3,073.58 Total, $8,191.46. " Dollar Money Table op Yearly Increase. 1880. 1890. Columbia, $3,594.15 $4,301.00 South Carolina, $2,813.00 $4,127.00 Florida, $1,207.95 $1,870.00 East Florida, $2,423.25 $4,463.85 Totals, $10,038,35 $14,791.85. $10,038.35. Increase, $4,753.50. For tlie support of the educational department of the Church, Poor Ben has been laboring earnestly and "with great success financially for the last two years in the district over which he presides. The following statement will show the large sums collected at the va¬ rious annual conferences of the States of South Caro¬ lina and Florida: The Florida conference has given for education alone, the sum of $1,793.00, the East poor Ben's Home. nwi 200 Poor Ben. work, and been worthy of the appellations husband and father in their fullest sense. Aided by his noble wife, who possesses such a con¬ stellation of virtues, he ha^ fitted up and ruled his kingdom with seven loving children as subjects. Chil¬ dren who, in after years, when father's 'and mother's eyes are to be looked into no more, when their voices may not be heard, nor their touches felt, will then be thankful that they made much of the bountiful gifts of good parents. Only in coming years can they rightly "read the expressible love in their mother's eyes, construe the gentleness lavished in her touch, the unbounded good in her firmly administered punishments, and sound the unfathomable gulf of generosity, from which fath¬ er bestowed all his favors for the cultivation of their talents and virtures. When they see their dear monuments of decay, touched by the finger of their Builder, crumble and fall, and the long entombed spirits rise through the immensity of space, it is then that the child drinks with a chilling sadness the real essence of human and paternal love. The residence of Poor Ben is a spacious and lovely one, located at Wilberforce, Ohio, three miles from the city of Xenia. There is an air of peace and rest to be inhaled as one approaches the long and wide gravel drive leading to the entrance of this quiet country seat of Poor Ben's, this Tawawa Chimney Corner. The sharp, angular character of the architecture of the building is softened and beautified by the mass of forest trees and evergreen foliage in which it seems to repose. His Home. 201 It is indeed a picturesque and home-like place, with its broad varandas, wide door-ways and substantially shuttered windows, without any of the varied and exciting colorings of our most recent villas. On entering, you find long comfortable halls and recesses, roomy parlors finely furnished, while beaming from every wall, are the many portraits of prominent men and women of our race. Passing on further, you will find yourself in the cheerful and spacious dining-room, within the walls of which, tri-daily may be heard that " Over powering knell, That tocsin of the soul— The dinner bell." To the rear of this is the well stocked and kept kitchen, and adjoining store and wash rooms. The rear of the lots contains the stable, cowsheds, and the hennery; animated respectively by Annie and her colt, old Sallie and her rollicking calf, and little Alphonso's and Flossie's host of pet chickens. As you return and pass up the broad stairway, and through the upper halls, you have on either side large airy chambers, familiarly known by their numbers. On this floor are the sleeping appartments of the fami¬ ly, the spare rooms for the frequent guests of Poor Ben, his office and his library. His library requires two rooms in which to be shelved. Every side is lined with books of all de¬ scriptions; ancient and modern, historic and religious; works of art and science. Nor are these works all culled from the white man's brains,now written by his pen, but hundreds of volumes of Negro literature fill two large book cases, and compare favorably with 204 Poor Ben. has labored faithfully, and at all times in the field, except when his Church and official engagements prevented. ' Few men of any nationality in his state have at¬ tained a better standing politically; although it is un¬ doubtedly true that church duties, to which he owes much, have divided his attention, and detracted from the exercise of his full powers and abilities in the strict line of politics. Yet public opinion still accred¬ its him with the rank of an able politician. His oratory is of that logical, earnest and persuasive kind, mixed with anecdote, satire and keen wit, which render a speaker popular on the stump, before the macs of people, and effective in legislative halls. Poor Een has been a beneficial worker in the cam¬ paigns of 1876, 1880,1884, besides each Ohio campaign dating from 1872 to the present. Notwithstanding his statesman-like turn of mind, he is never found making his religious calling and church offices subordinate to State or national inter¬ ests, but paramount to all else. If he stumped during the week, Le preached more eloquently on the Sabbath. He has been, and still is an ardent laborer for com¬ mon schools, and benevolent orders; a friend of educa¬ tion in all its branches, and few men are more fully trusted and highly esteemed in such interests in the community where he resides, and by his race through¬ out the Union. Much more might be written in his praise, but such is his modesty that we forbear, lest we might inflict a wound where we simply aim to do justice. The duties of the high and responsible position of financial secretary of the African Methodist Episcopal His Home. 205 denomination of America lie eve^ discharged with the modesty and address which has characterized him in all his official and professional callings, together with his various labors for the up-building and aggrandize¬ ment of his race. To all who know Poor Ben personally, or have learned of his true character through these pages, it is evident that his works will be a monument of which his native state, Pensylvania, as well as Ohio, and the entire United States, but more especially the A. M E. Church may well have cause to be proud. AVe have given you, reader, all we could glean of the life work and surroundings of Poor Ben during the eventful epochs in which he has annually peeped over the shoulders of time, and caught sight of the back of fifty one years, as they fled in terror from the unrolled scroll of futurity. It seems but a short time since we presented you a tiny subject, thg infant little Bennie, whose existence began in the humble cot, near the banks of Dunlap creek, Brownsville,Pa. Now you recognize him in the broad shouldered man, six feet in height, remarkably well proportioned, and gracefully formed. His features of boy-hood days remained but little changed, and un¬ hidden by a beard. His temperament active, his muscles of purest steel, his brain large, his forehead high, his eyes bright, cheerful and full of genial, soul¬ ful friendship, his mind full of quick apprehension, and his will strong, followed instantly by his con¬ victions. His imagination active and creative, and by a mysterious combining of all these faculties, pro¬ pensities and acquirements, with divine assistance, 206 Poor Ben. Poor Ben has been lifted above the ordinary level of life among us as a race. In the days of genius, when poets were born, not made like Caedmon, who a mere cow-boy, void of any form of education was aroused from sleep to compose verses on the creation, did so in admirable versifica¬ tion. Men may possibly have been " born not made," but in this day the true, noble man must not only be bom, but he must afterward be made. Made like our subject by force of adverse circumstances, and by an imperative surmounting of every barrier, be made. When in future years, family and friends mourn the absence of Poor Ben's sustaining and comforting pres¬ ence, may his spirit still linger over the Church to which he faithfully administered, over the campaign fields and party he defended. May his name be en¬ rolled on the heart register of his race in this Republic, and his illustrious deeds become a part of our race glories, to be cherished and perpetuated. In every sphere, in every transmutation, from the cradle to the grave may his character be as free from reproach as the world now knows it to be, glowing with all th£ active virtues of a noble manhood. You have learned the prelude of a life whose author is God. On earth we are permitted to hear the only concordant and discordant chords of the prelude to that wonderful master-piece, man. In heaven it shall be ours to enjoy the grand harmonic theme of each life. Indulgent reader, Poor Ben shall hereafter be known to you by the more familiar and dignified name, which his rank and age merit: Hon. and Rt. Rev. Benj a- min W. Arnett, D. D., Bishop of the A. M. E. Church. Under these titles, thousands greet him as an honored 210 Poor Ben. that the world has produced, may have passed away without being accredited with but little of their share of praise, and sleep without a slab to mark their dust. One Alexander lives while thousands are forgotten. Notwithstanding true honor may not receive its full share of merit, it is worth more to possess it than it costs to get it. The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, and before honor is humility. Along the high way of life each one must encounter that which is in the way to meet him. He is a fool who stands still, and allows life to flow past him like a panorama; he is a greater one, who, minus honor and respect for his Creator, seizes life's machinery, checks its proper action, and tries to change its pictures for others better suited to his depraved, dis¬ honored propensities. He can only distort and injure; yes, ruin them. When the destruction is complete, he must only look back upon awful shadows of scen¬ ery in ruins, the work of a dishonorable, Godless life. He must plod along and let remorse teach him that it is better to accept nature as it is, have confidence in God, and in his own powers as the gift of God; better to trust in work than in money. He learns that to trust in work is to trust in strength—strength of body —strength of mind—strength of soul—self existent, original strength, which is God alone. Man only begins to be strong when he has learned that separated from the essential life, which is God, he is weakness itself. Weakness is inability to do, to have, to be; it is incapable of action, being or state. In God alone he lives. Man is strength, if he be one with his origin—God. Practical Lessons. 211 The strong man—strong in honor, strong in action, strong in faith in God,—is happy and gloriously hope¬ ful as he see his sun going down behind the hill he is ascending toward the eastern sky of life; and, as lie returns through old age to the second childhood, goes to meet the rising sun, the new day, the better life, which shall not be taken awTay. Honorable, God-like action, leads a man from a lower to a higher condition in life—out of its earthy, away from its animal, mineral matter, into its air. Honor and faith teach him to live above the baser elements. Action and hope carry him from a plane of noble ex¬ istence to a higher, while humanity and charity, per¬ suade him to reach down a helping hand and draw up the strugling ones from the lower world. To know God as the beginning and the end, to recognize Him in all things and conditions of existence—is life. To do God's will in anything that reveals itself to us as duty, whether it be simple or mighty, is faith. The being who has life and faith, however adverse his circumstances may be, need not be hungry long, nor have an empty pocket all his days. Willingness and earnestness in labor.—Willingness and earnestness in labor is a trait which we see most vividly portrayed in the foreign element, with which our country is flooded. They are more especially characteristic of the German and Scandina¬ vian, than of the French and Italian. There is no class of labor in which these people will not engage. Even the women and children go to work with a joy¬ ous good will, that is seldom displayed by the colored people. 212 Poor Ben. I believe that it was Twickenham's great poet, that said, "Get place and wealth if possible with grace; if not, by any means get wealth and place." This seems to be the theory adopted by the foreigner, the moment he steps on the shores of our Republic. The black American ought then to drink deep of the spirit that fills his native air, and " get wealth and place by means of grace/' as readily as the European, and Asiastic* The chief reason of our despicability is not our igno* ranee nor color alone, but our poverty. Every rich black man stands shoulder to shoulder with his white brother of equal wealth and ignorance. Every willing, earnest and respectable black laborer, ranks as high as his white co-laborer in the same vocation, with equal bulk of capital. The one is as highly esteemed by the wealthy class as the other. Whenever a colored citizen shows his equality or superiority in every feature of mind over a white citizen, then he becomes a co-laborer with or ruler over that white citizen, and the whit© man's views become coalescent with or subservient to those of the black brother. The truthfulness of this has been proven in many instances, during the past two decades. Now if this be true of individuals, it must be true of us as a distinct branch of humanity. If we, by the acquirement of morality, wealth and education, ghow our heretofore, slavery-dwarfed brains to be equal, to those who, for hundreds of years, have been accum¬ ulating brain capital, then we may pull equally with them in harness, and accomplish the great work of life. If the whites continue in the advance, and we remain as we are, we must ever expect to be poor, de¬ pendent, despised; mere dust to be scraped from the heel, and discarded at the entrance of the door to 'opu- 21S Poor Ecn. memory, would now be living lives of obscurity, with¬ out name, honor or wealth. The past history of departed worth presents no more striking illustration of unlimited success in the life of a man than that of Benjamin Franklin's rise from small and low beginnings to such high rank and noted consideration. Yet, amid all the honor, fame and riches with which his success had crowned him, he retained that christian-like humility which teaches man not to love fortune alone, for it soon palls, nor that vain glory which only unfits him for the part assigned him. Franklin proved his greatest success in the acknowl¬ edgement of his gratefulness to God for all the ills and fortunes of life, and for victory over death. Though nearly a century has rolled above his ashes, yet he lives to-day a monument of prosperity. The words Benjamin Franklin and success are synony¬ mous. This prophetic ephitaph written by him has become a revelation: "THE BODY OF BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, PRINTER. Like the cover of an old book, Its contents torn out, And stripped of its lettering and gilding, Lies here, food for worms." The ultimate destiny of the subject herein presented, cannot but be just such an example of sliccess to the Practical Lessons. 219 colored American as Franklin was to the white Amer¬ ican of former days. A deep vein of genuine piety and gratefulness to his Counselor and Guide, pervades the words, actions and very life of Poor Ben. Few public speakers have had more influence in politics and religion than he. Ity close study and deep reflection, he has developed an extraordinary force of intellectual power. He is concise without be¬ ing abrupt, and, though not always eloquent, never montonous, for he appeals more to the understanding and common sense than to the imagination and fancy of those whom he addresses. We have traced his eventful life from its beginning through its many vicissitudes to the present. In placing a sketch of this man's life into the hands of the intel¬ ligent classes, whether black or white, native or foreign, we place before you a bold refutation of the many misrepresentations which have been hurled against us as a race. Those who so dearly love to descant on the unatural inferiority" of the Negro are either ignorant of the characteristics of our race, or else too base and ignoble to acknowledge that truth which has already been proven, and which is as inevitable as the grave. The Negro, like all other races, has risen from bar¬ barism. There is naught in race, blood, color or fea¬ tures that imparts susceptibility of improvement to .one class of people over another. Knowledge is not innate. The mental faculties, left to themselves from infancy, remain blank. It is development that makes the mind of man. He, who thinks that the Negro labors under some incurable, natural inferiority, is 220 Poor Ben. more inferior in hip perceptive faculties than the brute creation that recognizes man as man regardless of his race or color.