OF
UNIVERSIE
THE
LIBRA








Contending Forces



HE CUT THE ROPES THAT BOUND HER, AND SHE SANK UPON
THE GROUND AGAIN. (See page 69.)


Contending Forces
A ROMANCE ILLUSTRATIVE OF
NEGRO LIFE NORTH AND SOUTH
BY
PAULINE E. HOPKINS
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS AND COVER DESIGN BY
R. EMMETT OWEN
“ The civility of no race can be perfect
whilst another race is degraded.”
EMERSON.
BOSTON, MASS.
The Colored Co-operative Publishing Co.
5 Park Square
1900
Reprinted by Mnemosyne Publishing Co., Inc. Miami, Florida


828
H79480p
1969
Copyright, 1999,
BY
PAULINE E. HOPKINS,
Copyright, 1900,
BY
R. S. ELLIOTT.
All Rights Reserved.
First Mnemosyne reprinting 1969
Reprinted from a copy in the
Fisk University Library Negro Collection.
Copyright © 1969 Mnemosyne Publishing Co., Inc. Miami, Florida
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number:
72-83909
Printed in the United States of America


22860-013
Dedication.
To tbe
Friends of bumanity Evergwbere
1 otter tbiš bumble tribute
written by
one of a proscribed race.





CONTENTS.
PAGB
17
32
43
65
•
80
.
97
.
114
.
141
166
183
.
.
197
CHAPTER
I. A RETROSPECT OF THE PAST .
II. THE DAYS “ BEFORE THE WAR"
III. " COMING EVENTS CAST THEIR SHADOWS BEFORE”
IV. THE TRAGEDY .
V. MA SMITH'S LODGING-HOUSE
VI. MA SMITH'S LODGING-HOUSE - Concluded
VII. FRIENDSHIP
VIII. THE SEWING-CIRCLE
IX. “ LOVE TOOK UP THE HARP OF Life"
X. THE FAIR
XI. THE FAIR Concluded.
XII. A COLORED POLITICIAN
XIII. THE AMERICAN COLORED LEAGUE .
XIV. LUKE SAWYER SPEAKS TO THE LEAGUE.
XV. Will SMITH'S DEFENSE OF His RACE .
XVI. JOHN LANGLEY Consults MADAM FRANCES
XVII. THE CANTERBURY CLUB DINNER
XVIII. WHAT EASTER SUNDAY BROUGHT
XIX. THE BITTER ARROW
XX. MOTHER-LOVE .
XXI. AFTER MANY DAYS
XXII. “So HE BRINGETH THEM INTO THEIR DESIRED
Haven'
220
240
.
254
263
274
287
303
.
.
323
340
359
385





LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAGB
He cut the ropes that bound her, and she sank upon
the ground again (page 69)
Frontispiece.
Pollock stood a little apart, gazing in amazement at the scene
before him
.
.
.
49
Dora threw herself on her knees beside her mother's chair
178
“ Broke open the doors, seized my father, and hung him to the
nearest tree"
.
257
He saw what appeared to be a field of ice and snow, vast and
unbroken
285
.
.
.
"Go! go! will you go?" interrupted Sappho
320
“ Everybody was a-lookin' an' a-gappin' at us
367
*There before his blinded vision stood the realization of his dream 394





PREFACE.
In giving this little romance expression in
print, I am not actuated by a desire for noto-
riety or for profit, but to do all that I can in
an humble way to raise the stigma of degra-
dation from my race.
While I make no apology for my somewhat
abrupt and daring venture within the wide
field of romantic literature, I ask the kind in-
dulgence of the generous public for the many
crudities which I know appear in the work,
and their approval of whatever may impress
them as being of value to the Negro race
and to the world at large.
The colored race has historians, lecturers,
ministers, poets, judges and lawyers,- men of
brilliant intellects who have arrested the favor-
able attention of this busy, energetic nation.
But, after all, it is the simple, homely tale,
unassumingly told, which cements the bond of
brotherhood among all classes and all com-
plexions.
Fiction is of great value to any people as a
preserver of manners and customs — religious,
political and social. It is a record of growth
13


14
PREFACE.
and development from generation to genera-
tion. No one will do this for us; we must
ourselves develop the men and women who will
faithfully portray the inmost thoughts and
feelings of the Negro with all the fire and
romance which lie dormant in our history,
land, as yet, unrecognized by writers of the
Anglo-Saxon race.
The incidents portrayed in the early chap-
ters of the book actually occurred. Ample
proof of this may be found in the archives
of the courthouse at Newberne, N. C., and
at the national seat of government, Washing-
ton, D. C.
In these days of mob violence, when lynch-
law is raising its head like a venomous mon-
ster, more particularly in the southern portion
of the great American republic, the retrospec-
tive mind will dwell upon the history of the
past, seeking there a solution of these mon-
strous outbreaks under a government founded
upon the greatest and brightest of principles
for the elevation of mankind.
While we
ponder the philosophy of cause and effect, the
world is horrified by a fresh outbreak, and
the shocked mind wonders that in this — the
brightest epoch of the Christian era – such
things are.
Mob-law is nothing new. Southern senti-


PREFACE.
15
ment has not been changed; the old ideas
close in analogy to the spirit of the buccaneers,
who formed in many instances the first settlers
of the Southland, still prevail, and break forth
clothed in new forms to force the whole re-
public to an acceptance of its principles.
"Rule or ruin" is the motto which is com-
mitting the most beautiful portion of our
glorious country to a cruel revival of piratical
methods; and, finally, to the introduction of
Anarchy. Is this not so? Let us compare
the happenings of one hundred – two hundred
years ago, with those of today. The difference
between then and now, if any there be, is so
slight as to be scarcely worth mentioning.
The atrocity of the acts committed one hun-
dred years ago are duplicated today, when
slavery is supposed no longer to exist.
I have tried to tell an impartial story, leaving
it to the reader to draw conclusions. I have
tried to portray our hard struggles here in the
North to obtain a respectable living and a
partial education. I have presented both sides
of the dark picture lynching and concubi-
nage — truthfully and without vituperation,
pleading for that justice of heart and mind
for my people which the Anglo-Saxon in
America never withholds from suffering hu-
manity.
-


16
PREFACE.
In Chapter XIII. I have used for the ad-
dress of the Hon. Herbert Clapp the state-
ments and accusations made against the
Negro by ex-Governor Northen of Georgia, in
his memorable address before the Congrega-
tional Club at Tremont Temple, Boston, Mass.,
May 22, 1899. In Chapter XV. I have made
Will Smith's argument in answer to the Hon.
Herbert Clapp a combination of the best
points made by well-known public speakers
in the United States — white and black - in
defense of the Negro. I feel my own deficien-
cies too strongly to attempt original composi-
tion on this subject at this crisis in the history
of the Negro in the United States. I have
introduced enough of the exquisitely droll
humor peculiar to the Negro (a work like
this would not be complete without it) to give
a bright touch to an
otherwise gruesome
subject.
THE AUTHOR.


CONTENDING FORCES.
CHAPTER I.
A RETROSPECT OF THE PAST.
We wait beneath the furnace-blast
The pangs of transformation;
Not painlessly doth God recast
And mould anew the nation.
Hot burns the fire
Where wrongs expire;
Nor spares the hand
That from the land
Uproots the ancient evil.
-). G. WHITTIER.
In the early part of the year 1800 the agita-
tion of the inhabitants of Great Britain over
the increasing horrors of the slave trade car-
ried on in the West Indian possessions of the
Empire was about reaching a climax. Every
day the terrible things done to slaves were
becoming public talk, until the best English
humanitarians, searching for light upon the
subject, became sick at heart over the dis-
coveries that they made and were led to declare
the principle: “The air of England is too pure
for any slave to breathe.”


18
CONTENDING FORCES.
History
To go back a little way in the romantic
history of the emancipation of the slaves in the
islands will not take much time, and will, I
hope, be as instructive as interesting. Tales
of the abuses of the slaves, with all the sick.
ening details, had reached the Quaker commu-
nity as early as 1783, and that tender-hearted
people looked about themselves to see what
steps they could take to ameliorate the con-
dition of the Negroes in the West Indies, and
to discourage the continuation of the trade
along the African coast.
Thomas Clarkson, a student at Cambridge,
was drawn into writing a prize essay on the
subject, and became so interested that he allied
himself with the Quakers and investigated the
subject for himself, thereby confirming his own
belief, “that Providence had never made that
to be wise that was immoral; and that the
slave trade was as impolitic as it was unjust.”
After strenuous efforts by Mr. Pitt and Mr.
Fox, Parliament became interested and insti.
tuted an inquiry into the abuses of the slave
trade. Finally, Mr. Wilberforce was drawn
into the controversy, and for sixteen years
waged an incessant warfare against the plant-
ers, meeting with defeat in his plans for ten
consecutive years; but finally, in 1807, he was
successful, and the slave trade was abolished.


A RETROSPECT OF THE PAST.
19
These assailants of the slave trade had promi-
ised not to try to abolish slavery; but in a short
time they learned that the trade was still car-
ried on in ships sailing under the protection
of false flags. Tales of the cruelties practiced
upon the helpless chattels were continually
reaching the ears of the British public, some of
them such as to sicken the most cold-hearted
and indifferent. For instance: causing a child
to whip his mother until the blood ran; if a
slave looked his master in the face, his limbs
were broken; women in the first stages of
their accouchement, upon refusing to work,
were placed in the treadmill, where terrible
things happened, too dreadful to relate.
Through the efforts of Granville Sharpe,
the chairman of the London committee, Lord
Stanley, minister of the colonies, introduced
into the House of Commons his bill for eman-
cipation.
Lord Stanley's bill proposed gradual eman-
cipation, and was the best thing those men of
wisdom could devise. Earnestly devoted to
their task, they sought to wipe from the fair
escutcheon of the Empire the awful blot which
was upon it. By the adoption of the bill Great
Britain not only liberated a people from the
cruelties of their masters, but at the same time
took an important step forward in the onward


20
CONTENDIG FORCES.
march of progress, which the most enlightened
nations are unconsciously forced to make by
the great law of advancement; “ for the civility
of no race can be perfect whilst another race is
degraded.”
In this bill of gradual emancipation certain
conditions were proposed.
All slaves were
entitled to be known as apprenticed laborers,
and to acquire thereby all the rights and privi-
leges of freemen. “These conditions were
that prædials should owe three-fourths of the
profits of their labors to their masters for six
years, and the non-prædials for four years. The
other fourth of the apprentice's time was to be
his own, which he might sell to his master or
to other persons; and at the end of the term
of years fixed, he should be free.”
In the winter of 1790, when these important
changes in the life of the Negro in the West
Indies were pending, many planters were fol.
lowing the course of events with great anxiety.
Many feared that in the end their slaves would
be taken from them without recompense,
and thereby render •them and their families
destitute. Among these planters was the
family of Charles Montfort, of the island of
Bermuda.
Bermuda's fifteen square miles of arca laus
six hundred miles from the nearest American


A RETROSPECT OF THE PAST.
21
coast. Delightful is this land, formed from
coral reefs, flat and fertile, which to the eye
appears as but a pin point upon the ocean's
broad bosom, one of “a thousand islands in
a tropic Sca."
Once Bermuda was second only to Virginia
in its importance as a British colony; once it
held the carrying trade of the New World;
once was known as the “Gibraltar of the
Atlantic," although its history has been that of
a simple and peaceful people. Its importance
to the mother country as a military and naval
station has drawn the paternal bonds of inter-
est closer as the years have flown by. Indeed,
Great Britain has been kind to the colonists of
this favored island from its infancy, sheltering
and shielding them so carefully that the iron
hand of the master has never shown beneath
the velvet glove. So Bermuda has always been
intensely British, - intensely loyal. Today, at
the beginning of the new century, Bermuda
presents itself, outside of its importance as a
military station for a great power, as a vast
sanatorium for the benefit of invalids. A tem-
perate climate, limpid rivers, the balmy fra-
grance and freshness of the air, no winter, -
nature changing only in the tints of its foliage,
- have contributed to its renown as a health-
giving region; and thus Shakespeare's magic


22
CONTENDING FORCES,
island of Prospero and Miranda has become,
indeed, to the traveler
The spot of earth uncurst,
To show how all things were created first.
Mr. Montfort was the owner of about seven
hundred slaves. He was well known as an
exporter of tobacco, sugar, coffee, onions and
other products so easily grown in that salu-
brious climate, from which he received large
returns. He was neither a cruel man, nor an
avaricious one; but like all men in commercial
life, or traders doing business in their own
productions, he lost sight of the individual
right or wrong of the matter, or we might say
with more truth, that he perverted right to be
what was conducive to his own interests, and
felt that by owning slaves he did no man a
wrong, since it was the common practice of
those all about him, and he had been accus-
tomed to this peculiar institution all his life.
Indeed, slavery never reached its lowest
depths in this beautiful island; but a desire for
England's horior and greatness had become a
passion with the inhabitants, and restrained
the planters from committing the ferocious acts
of brutality so commonly practiced by the
Spaniards. In many cases African blood had
become diluted from amalgamation with the


A RETROSPECT OF THE PAST.
23
higher race, and many of these “colored ”
people became rich planters or business men
(themselves owning slaves) through the favors
heaped upon them by their white parents.
This being the case, there might even have
been a strain of African blood polluting the
fair stream of Montfort's vitality, or even his
wife's, which fact would not have caused him
one instant's uneasiness. Moreover, he was a
good master, and felt that while he housed his
slaves well, fed them with the best of food
suited to their occupations and the climate,
and did not cruelly beat them, they fared
better with him than they would have with
another, perhaps, or even if they held property
themselves.
The speeches of Mr. Pitt, Mr. Burke and
others, together with the general trend of pub-
lic sentiment as expressed through the medium
of the British press, had now begun to make
an impression upon some of the more humane
of the planters on this island, and among them
was Mr. Montfort. Uneasiness now took the
place of his former security; thought would
obtrude itself upon him, and in the quiet hours
of the night this man fought out the battle
which conscience waged within him, and
right prevailed to the extent of his deciding
that he would free his slaves, but in his own


24
CONTENDING FORCES,
way. He determined to leave Bermuda, and
after settling in some other land, he would
gradually free his slaves without impoverishing
himself; bestow on each one a piece of land,
and finally, with easy conscience, he would
retire to England, and there lead the happy
life of an English gentleman of fortune.
With this end in view, being a man of affairs
and well acquainted with the whole of the
American continent, he naturally turned his
eyes towards the United States, where the
institution flourished, and the people had not
yet actually awakened to the folly and wicked-
ness exemplified in the enslavement of their
fellow-beings. For reasons which were never
known, he finally made choice of Newbern,
N. C., for a home.
Sunday was and is the high holiday in all
tropical climes.. On that day the slave forgot
his bonds. It was noon; the early service of
the Church of England was ended. The
clergyman of the parish had accompanied
Charles Montfort home. Mrs. Montfort was
visiting friends, so the two gentlemen dined
alone. The clergyman was rather glad that he
had the opportunity of seeing Mr. Montfort
alone, and had used all his powers of persua-
sion to turn him from his proposed exodus. It
was of no avail, as the good man soon found;


A RETROSPECT OF TIIE PAST.
25
and with a sigh, he finally took his hat and
prepared to leave. Both stood outside the
house upon the broad walk beneath the shade
of the fragrant cedars and the fruitful tamarind
trees. The silence of deep feeling was between
these two men. The clergyman could only
remember the reverence he had always received,
and the loving service given him by this family.
Montfort thought with pain of the holy minis-
trations of this silver-haired man, who had pro-
nounced the solemn words that bound him to
his gentle wife, had baptized his children, and
(tenderest act of all) had buried the little
daughter whose grave was yonder, beneath the
flowering trees in the churchyard. Yes, it was
sad to part and leave all these tender ties of
friendship behind.
“The bishop will come himself, Charles, to
persuade you that this is a dangerous step you
are about to take,” finally the good man said,
breaking the silence.
"Why dangerous? Is it any more so for
me than for those who left England to build
a home here in the wilderness ? "
“ Different, very different. The mother hand
was still over them, even in these wilds. Out
there," and he pointed in the direction of the
bay, “they tell me that for all their boasted
freedom, the liberty of England is not found,


A RETROSPECT OF THE PAST.
27
Beautiful, indeed; and I will confess that it
grows dearer as the time for my departure
draws near," answered Montfort. “I will walk
with you,” he continued, as the clergyman
turned in the direction of the road. As they
passed through the wide entrance gates a
Negro woman was weeding her little garden; her
pickaninny was astride her back, spurring his
mother as a rider his horse. The woman and
the child looked up and smiled at the master
and his guest, and the woman put the child on
the ground and stood upright to bob a queer
little courtesy. They walked along in silence
until they reached the plaza.
My son, will you not be persuaded ? '
“ Father, I have made up my mind firmly,
after due consideration. I believe it is for the
best.”
They paused a moment at the square; then
the holy man said solemnly, as he raised his
hand in benediction: “If it then be for the best,
which God grant it may be, I pray the good
Father of us all to keep you in safety and in
perfect peace.” He turned and disappeared in
the crowd.
Charles Montfort was immediately sur-
rounded by his friends, who greeted him joy-
ously, for he was a genial man and had
endeared himself greatly to his neighbors.


28
CONTENDING FORCES.
“Still determined to leave us, Charles ? "
inquired one.
“Yes, for the good of myself and family.
How can we submit tamely to the loss of our
patrimonies without an effort to reimburse our-
selves when a friendly land invites us to share
its hospitality ?
“There is truth in your argument for all who,
like you, Charles, have a large venture in slaves.
Thank heaven I am so poor that a change of
laws will not affect me," said one.
“Where a man's treasure is, there also is his
heart. It is nature. Almost you persuade me,
Charles, to do likewise,” remarked another.
“As I have told you, I will retain my patri-
mony and free my slaves, too, by this venture in
the United States under a more liberal govern-
ment than ours."
“Ah! Charles,” remarked another listener,
"you forget the real difference between our
government and that of the United States.
And then the social laws are so different. You
will never be able to accustom yourself to the
habits of a republic. Do you not remember the
planters from Georgia and Carolina who fought
for good King George, and were stanch Royal-
ists? They retired to the Bahamas when our
cause was lost in the American colonies. My
brother has just returned from a trip there. He


A RETROSPECT OF THE PAST.
29
tells strange tales of their surprise at many
things we do here. I fear it is but a cold wel-
come you will receive from men of their class.”
“Certainly,” replied Montfort, “I shall try
to be a good subject or citizen of whatever
country I may be compelled to reside in for
a long or short time.”
“But surely you will not expose your wife to
the inconveniencies of life in that country,”
said another.
“She has had her choice, but prefers hard-
ships with me to life without me," proudly
returned Montfort.
“A willful man must have his way,” mur-
mured one who had not yet spoken," and I will
give you three months to stay in the land of
savages before you will be returning to us bag
and baggage."
Well,” laughed Montford, "we shall see.”
Twilight had fallen now, and Montfort bared
his head to the refreshing sea breeze which flut-
tered every leaf. When he bade his friends good
night, finally, and started on his homeward
walk, the arguments of the good clergyman
and of his friends were present in his har-
assed mind, and he wondered if he were doing
wrong not to be prevailed upon to yield to the
opinions of nthers. Once he almost determined
that he would give it all up and remain in this


30
CONTENDING FORCES.
land of love and beauty. To collect his scat.
tered thoughts and calm his mind he turned
toward the bay, and stood upon the beach, still
allowing the breeze to play about his heated
temples. Never before had he appreciated his
home so much as now, when he contrasted it
with the comparative barrenness of the new
spot he had chosen. The water was alive with
marine creatures; the sea aflame. The air was
full of light-giving insects, incessantly moving,
which illumined the darkness and gave life to
every inanimate object. Over all the moon
and stars were set in the cloudless deep-blue
sky of coming night. Alas! his good angel
fled with the darkness, and morning found him
more determined than ever to go on with his
project.
When it became generally known in Ber-
muda that Charles Montfort had decided to
leave the place of his birth and establish him-
self in a foreign land, many friends gathered
about him and advised him to reconsider his
determination. Montfort laughingly invited
them to join him in his new venture, and then
earnestly pointed out to them the dangers
which threatened their fortunes. He painted
his plans in glowing colors, and ended by
promising them that in less than twenty-five
years he would land in England, a retired


A RETROSPECT OF THE PAST.
31
planter, his former slaves free and happy, and
he himself rich and honored.
Having an immense amount of property to
transport, it happened that Mr. Montfort was
compelled to make two trips to Newbern before
he removed his family to their new home; but
after much energetic work and many difficul-
ties, the little family looked through blinding
tears at the receding shores of what had been a
happy home. A week later a noble ship stood
off the shores of North Carolina. On the deck
was Charles Montfort; his wife hung upon his
arm; beside the devoted couple were Charles,
Jr., named for his father, and Jesse, the young
darling of his mother's heart. Silently they
gazed upon the fair scene before them, each
longing for the land so recently left behind
them, though no word of regret was spoken.


32
CONTENDING FORCES
CHAPTER JI.
66
THE DAYS
BEFORE THE WAR."
O FREEDOM! thou art not as poets dream,
A fair young girl with light and delicate limbs,
Thy birthright was not given by human hands:
Thou wert twinborn with inan.
The shores of Pamlico Sound presented a
motley crowd of slaves, overseers, owners of
vessels, and a phantasmagoric landscape very
charming to eyes unaccustomed to such scenes.
It was near the noon siesta. In the harbor lay
three or four vessels ready to be loaded with
their freight of rice, tobacco or cotton. The
sun poured its level rays straight down upon
the heads of all. A band of slaves sang in a
musical monotone, and kept time to the music
of their song as they unloaded a barge that had
just arrived :
Turn dat han' spike roun' an' roun',
Hol' hard, honey; hol' hard, honey.
Brack man tote de buckra's load,
Hol' hard, honey; hol' hard, honey
Neber 'fo' seed a nigger like you,
Hol' hard, honey; hol' hard, honey.
Allers tinkin' 'bout yer ol' brack Sue,
Holhard, honey; hol' hard, honey.


THE DAYS
33
BEFORE THE WAR.”
Ef I was an alligater what'd I do?
Hol' hard, honey ; hol' hard, honey.
Run 'way wid ol' brack Sue,
Hol' hard, honey; hol hard, honey.
Massa ketch yer, what'd he do?
Hi, hi, honey; hi, hi, honey.
Cut
yer
back an' ol' brack Sue's,
He, he, honey; he, he, honey.
I cuss massa 'hin' de fence,
Hol' hard, honey ; hol' hard, honey.
Massa don'hyar make no differyence,
Hol' hard, honey; hol' hard, honey.
Turn dat han’ spike roun' an' roun’,
Hol' hard, honey ; hol' hard, honey.
Brack man tote de buckra's load,
Hol' hard, honey ; hol' hard, honey.
As the refrain died away the bell for the
noon rest sounded faintly in the distance, grad-
ually drawing nearer, and again their rich and
plaintive voices blended together in sweet
cadences as they finished placing the heavy
load to the satisfaction of their drivers :
Hark, dat merry, purty bell go
Jing-a-lingle, jing-a-lingle, jingle bell,
Jing-a-lingle, jing-a-lingle, jing-a-lingle bell,
Jingle bell, jingle bell.


34
CONTENDING FORCES.
Even so sang the children of Israel in their
captivity, as they sat by the rivers of Babylon
awaiting deliverance.
Just now a ship, which had some time since
appeared as a dark spot on the horizon, turned
her majestic prow and steered for the entrance
to the sound. Immediately the pilot boat in
the harbor put out to her. Everyone on the
shore became eagerly intent upon the strange
ship, and they watched the pilot climb aboard
with all the interest which usually attends the
slightest cause for excitement in a small com-
munity.
The ship came on very slowly, for there was
little wind, under topsail, jib and foresail, the
British flag at the peak and the American flag
at the fore. The people on shore could see the
captain standing by the pilot, the anchor ready
to be dropped, and the bowsprit shrouds loose.
But now their interest was divided with a new
arrival. A man on horseback rode down to the
shaky wooden platform which served as a land-
ing place for passengers; behind him, at a re-
spectful distance, rode a white-haired Mulatto.
The man leaped from his horse and threw his
reins to the slave, signaled a couple of Negroes
in a boat, jumped into it as they, obedient to
his sign, pulled alongside the wharf, and was
rowed swiftly out to the advancing ship, which


THE DAYS
35
BEFORE THE WAR."
was now making considerable headway toward
the shore.
Among the idlers on the wharf was one whom
everyone addressed as Bill. He was large, or
rather burly, carried a rawhide in his hand, and
from his air of authority toward them, was evi-
dently the overseer of the gang of slaves who
were loading the tobacco barge. From out the
crowd a man who had been sitting idly on a
bale of cotton moved toward him.
“ Holloa, Bill,” he said, addressing the owner
of the rawhide.
Howdy, Hank”; returned Bill, surveying the
other curiously, “whar in time did you drap
from?”
Hank did not reply directly. He shifted the
tobacco quid in his mouth from one cheek to
the other, then with a nod of the head toward
the approaching vessel, asked: “Whar's she
from?"
“Hain't been in town lately, I reckon, or
you'd know all about the ‘Island Queen' from
Bermudy. Planter named Montfort on her.
He's movin' his niggers here to Caroliny; gittin'
too hot fer him back thar,” replied Bill, with a
backward jerk of his thumb in the supposed
direction of Bermuda. “How's things up yer
way?"
“Fair, fair to middlin', Bill; thar's been some
talk 'bout a risin' among the niggers, and so we


36
CONTENDING FORCES.
jes tuk a few o'them an' strun 'em up fer a eggs-
ample to the res'. I tell you, Bill, we jes don't
spec' to hav' no foolin' 'bout this yer question
of who's on top as regards a gentleman's own-
ing his niggers, an' whomsoeveder goes ter
foolin' with that ar pertickler pint o' discus-
shun is gwine ter be made a eggsample of,
even ef it's a white man. Didn'hyar nuthin'
'bout a circus up our way, did yer?”
Bill scratched his chin and shook his head in
the negative.
Wall, 'twas this here way: Jed Powers,
you ʼmember Dan Powers' Jed, don' yer? Dan
thet was tarred an' feathered fer selling good
likely whiskey ter niggers ? Bill nodded in
the affirmative.“ Jed Powers wuz seed walkin'
with Jimison's wench Violy. Be blowed ef he
wasn't gittin' ready ter cut an’run ter Canidy
with her!”
“Don'b'lieve yer, durned ef I do,” said Bill.
Fact! Be durned ef it ain't jes so.”
“Wall! of all the onnat'rall cusses!”
But his wurst offense, in gineral, wuz thet
he wuz meanin'fer to marry her!” Hank
paused in his narrative to allow a full appre-
ciation of his statement to be impressed upon
Bill's mind.
“Wus an' wus!” groaned the latter. What
is we comin' to, by thunder! I allays took Jed


THE DAYS
37
BEFORE THE WAR.”
to be a decen' sort o' cuss, too. What's the
committee doin' 'bout it?”
“Wall, we sot out to stop thet fun, anyhow.
We got him after a hot chase, an' we put him
in jail; an' las' week we guy him his trial.
Jedge sentenced him to fifty lashes an' hangin'
by the neck untell he wuz dead. But some-
how or nuther folks is gittin' squeamish. Jedge
don'durst to hang him; he'll jes guv him the
fifty lashes an'a talkin' to on the immoralty o'
his acts an’ ways. Jedge tol him he wuz young
an' had a chance to 'pent from the desolute
ways o' his youth, of which his wurst failin' wuz
a-wantin' to marry niggers, leastwise he'd end
in hell, shure. Jedge tol'him everythin' 'cordin'
ter law an' jestice. We wuz calkerlatin' ter
have a celebrashun to which all the leading
citizens o'this county would 'a' been bid, but, o'
course, not havin' the hangin' sort o'took the
ginger out o' the whole business.”
“I hain't a doubt o' yer horsepertality in
case o' the event, Hank; we's allays got along
mighty comf'table tergether," replied Bill, nod-
ding an emphatic approval of all that Hank had
said. The whole speech had been liberally
punctuated with copious floods of tobacco
juice, which formed a small river between the
two men.
Best thing I know of down our way,” said
66


38
CONTENDING FORCES.
Bill, after they had taken another good look at
the ship, “the best thing I know of was a raffle
over ter Jellison's auction-rooms. A raffle's a
great thing fer pickin up bargains in niggers
an' horses. This pertickler one was fer a bay
horse, a new light buggy an' harness, an'a
Mulatto gal Sal. The whole thing wuz wurth
fifteen hundred dollars, an' we had fifteen
hundred chances at a dollar a head. Highest
throw took first choice; lowest, the remainder.
Winners to pay twenty dollars each fer refresh-
ments.”
“Leetle bit selfish o' you, Bill, ter keep all
thet to yerself,” said Hank, giving Bill a re-
proachful glance.
“ Mabby so, mabby so. But you won't lose
nuthin', Hank, ef I can help yer in the footur.
'Pears like some one wuz a-tellin' me,” he con-
tinued reflectively, “thet yer wuz a-wurkin' fer
the county 'bout thet time fer board an' clo's.”
“Be durned ef I wuzn't,” replied Hank with
great candor.
Shot at a free nigger an' killed
Brady's dog Pete. Ef it'd been the nigger I'd
happened ter kill, hit would 'a' been all right;
but bein' 'twas a bluded hound thet had tred
hundreds o' runaways, it wuz anuther question;
an' not havin' the muney ter pay a fine, an'
Brady bein' purty mad, why in I went fer a
munth."


THE DAYS
39
BEFORE THE WAR.”
“Wall, as I was a-sayin', ter perceed, by a
lucky chance it wuz my fust choice, an' I
choose the gal. I knowed she wuz a fust-class
breeder an' my muney wuz shure fer a hun-
dred per cent on her.”
" I swear ter gosh, but yer right, Bill; mate
her with the right sort an' you's got yer own
muney.
Both men now turned their attention to the
advancing ship.
I see ol' Pollock's got 'em in tow," re-
marked Hank reflectively, after a moment's
silence. “Ans Pollock's as crafty as can be.
No 'fense meant, yer know; seems he's yer boss
still; mean cuss ef he's rich's a jedge”; he con-
tinued, “s'pose they've got a heap o' money,
too."
“Can't say as to thet,” replied Bill, "but
they bought Pollock's ol' place, an' it looks as
though money might be plenty the way every-
thing has been fixed up fer the missis.”
The noon hours were now over, and a great
deal of confusion reigned, caused by the arrival
of a ship in port with so rich a man as Mr.
Montfort aboard. The two friends became
separated in the ensuing bustle which attended
the landing of the party. During the preced-
ing conversation a carriage and teams for
transporting the baggage and slaves had drawn


40
CONTENDING FORCES.
up alongside the shore; and as Mr. Montfort
stepped on the rickety wharf and assisted his
wife to do the same, a murmur of involuntary
admiration ran through the motley crowd of
rough white men and ignorant slaves.
Grace Montfort was a dream of beauty even
among beautiful women. Tall and slender;
her form was willowy, although perfectly
molded. Her complexion was creamy in its
whiteness, of the tint of the camellia; her hair, a
rich golden brown, fell in rippling masses far
below the waist line; brown eyes, large and soft
as those seen in the fawn; heavy black eye-
brows marking a high white forehead, and
features as clearly cut as a cameo, completed
a most lovely type of Southern beauty.
The two children followed their mother
closely. They were sturdy boys, who resem-
bled her in the beauty of their features; and in
Jesse, the baby, a still greater resemblance
could be traced, because the hair had been
allowed to remain in long, soft curls. So they
came ashore to their new homé, obsequiously
waited upon by Mr. Pollock, and lovingly
attended by their numerous slaves. In an
instant the family was seated in the waiting
vehicle; and before the spectators could fully
realize the beauty and elegance of the new-
comers, they were whirled away, and the car.
riage was lost in a cloud of dust,


THE DAYS
41
BEFORE THE WAR.”
Hank Davis and Bill Sampson met once
more before they left the wharf. “Ef they
hain't got an overseer, I'm goin' to 'ply fer the
job”; said Hank,“ never seed sich a booty in
my life.”
Bill Sampson scratched his head meditatively:
"Strikes me, Hank, thet thet ar female's got a
black streak in her somewhar."
Hank stared at Bill a moment, as though he
thought he had suddenly lost his senses; then
he burst into a loud guffaw.
“ You git out, Bill Sampson."
Wall, maybe,” said Bill, “ maybe so. Thar's
too much cream color in the face and too little
blud seen under the skin fer a genooine white
'ooman. You can't tell nothin' 'bout these
Britishers; they're allers squeamish 'bout thar
nigger brats; yas, sah, very squeamish. I've
hern tell that they think nuthin of ejcatin' thar
black brats, and freein' 'em, an' makin' 'em
rich."
“You go to the devil”; returned Hank, as he
moved away, “you're wus' nan ol' nigger, allers
seein' a possum up a tree; an’’taint no possum
'tall, - nuthin' but er skunk.”
Apologists tell us as an excuse for the bar-
barous practice of slavery, that it was a god-
like institution for the spread of the gospel of
the meek and lowly carpenter's son, and that


42
CONTENDING FORCES.
the African savage brought to these shores in
chains was a most favored being.
Such may be the thoughts of the careless
and superficial mind; but when we survey the
flotsam and jetsam left from the wreck of the
Civil War, we can deceive ourselves no longer;
we must confess that the natural laws which
govern individuals and communities never
relax in their operation. The fruit of slavery
was poisonous and bitter; let us rejoice that
it no longer exists.


COMING EVENTS CAST SHADOWS.”
43
CHAPTER III.
COMING EVENTS CAST THEIR SHADOWS
BEFORE.”
IN sooth I know not why I am so sad:
It wearies me ; you say it wearies you ;
But how I caught it, found it, or came by it,
What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is born,
I am to learn ;
And such a wantwit sadness makes of me
That I have much ado to know myself.
- Merchant of Venice.
Smooth
The old Pollock homestead was an exquisite
spot. The house was a long, low, rambling
structure, consisting of many large, airy rooms
inside, and ornamented without by piazzas sup-
ported by huge pillars. Immense trees shaded
the driveway and embowered the stately white
mansion. Gay parterres of flowers ornamented
the rolling lawn, which divided the great house
from the Negro quarters which were pictur-
esquely visible at a convenient distance from it.
Within the house Mr. Montfort had gathered
all the treasures which could possibly add to
the comfort and pleasure of his lovely wife.
Beautiful rugs covered the floors, fine paintings
adorned the walls, gleaming statuary flashed
upon one from dd nooks and corners. In the


44
CONTENDING FORCES.
library music had found a home in the most
comfortable corner of the room. On a table
one might find a volume of Goethe in the
original; on the grand piano the score of a
then-popular opera; while a magnificent harp,
standing near, hinted of musical talents highly
cultivated.
Business had prospered with Montfort; his
crops flourished; but a nameless trouble seemed
to be halting upon the threshold of the home he
loved, and to threaten those whom he cherished
so fondly.
The first year of residence in Newbern had
been very pleasant for the Montforts. Society,
such as it was, opened its arms to the family
and voted the highly cultured wife and cherub
children great additions. The house was a
favorite resort for all the young people of the
neighborhood. Mrs. Montfort had been edu-
cated in England, and had brought with her
to the provincial families with whom she now
associated all the refinements of the Old World.
Having great wealth for the times, she had
always been indulged in every whim by the
doting bachelor uncle who had made her his
heiress, but who had died soon after her
marriage to Charles Montfort. As Grace
Montfort, she found again the love her uncle
had delighted to lavish upon his adopted child.


COMING EVENTS CAST SHADOWS.”
45
Possessed of a bright, joyous nature, she liked
nothing better than to gather about her the
young men and women of the neighborhood
and make life pleasant for them; and they in
turn learned from her customs and refinements
which otherwise might never have come their
way. Everyone voted her the dearest and
most beautiful woman they had ever known,
and all would have gone merry as a marriage-
bell, but (if it were not for the buts and ifs of
this life, what a pleasant place the world would
be) into this paradise of good feelings and
admiration came Anson Pollock with his bitter
envy and his unlawful love, and finally with
his determination to possess the lovely Grace
Montfort at all hazards.
Gradually the friendly relations of the neigh-
bors turned to coldness and reserve. It was
whispered about that Montfort was about to
free his slaves. This in itself was a dangerous
doctrine at that time in that part of the world,
and a man suspected of entertaining ideas of
freedom for slaves must either change his tac-
tics or his residence, or else forfeit life and
property. Then again, Bill Sampson's words
to Hank Davis had somehow found a voice,
and the suspicion of Negro blood in the veins
of Mrs. Montfort was a deathblow to a proud
spirit and social aspirations. These two seri-


46
CONTENDING FORCES.
ous charges had spread abroad like wildfire.
It was a hot morning, a very hot morning in
early summer. There had been no rain for
some time. Mrs. Montfort lay in a hammock
outside the breakfast-room windows. Lucy, her
maid, was mending lace and children's garments
a short distance away.
Lucy was Mrs. Montfort's foster sister; both
were born on the same day. Their relations
had always been those of inseparable friends
rather than of mistress and slave.
"No rain today, Lucy. I never used to mind
the heat at home (this with a sigh). How fair
it must be over the blue waters of the bay;
I can almost 'smell the cedars outside the
entrance gates."
“Yas, Miss Grace” (to Lucy her mistress
was always “ Miss Grace"), “I do feel sort o'
squeamish myself sometimes when I tink of the
gals all dancin' Sundays in the square; but
reckon we'll git used ter these people here arter
a-while; leastwise, I hope so."
Mrs. Montfort did not reply, and her maid
noticed, as she glanced anxiously at her mis-
tress, that a frown was on her face. Lucy
sighed.
“ Miss Grace" had been noted once
for her sunny, cheerful temper. Now all was
changed.
Beyond the rolling lawn fields of cotton


COMING EVENTS CAST SIIADOWS."
47
could be seen, the leaves twisting in the heat
and the steady glare of the sun. Zigzag fences
separated the cotton from fields of corn ; away
in the distance dim aisles of pine trees stretched
their dark arms towards the heavens, their dark
foliage suggestive of cool shadows and quiet
glades. The road wound in and out among
the pines, through a woodland, and terminated
in the highway just visible from the piazza.
Inside the long, open windows little Jesse
played at building houses with the bags of
golden eagles that his father kept in a drawer
of his escritoire.
“Grace, Grace, Lucy,” called the child, “my
houses won't stay up; come in and help me."
Just then a group appeared coming around
a corner of an outbuilding. Two men walked
beside a pony, astride whose back sat Master
Charles. As they approached the house the
gentlemen swept off their wide-brimmed hats
in a gallant salute to Mrs. Montfort, which she
returned by rising from her recumbent position
and dropping a low courtesy. The gentlemen
were Mr. Montfort and Mr. Pollock. Jesse,
hearing the pony's feet, came out the window
and ran down the piazza steps to his father, who,
as Charles sprang to the ground, lifted the
excited child to the pony's back. Mrs. Montfort
watched the approach of the little procession


48
CONTENDING FORCES.
with a pleased smile. She made a fair picture
in her elaborately embroidered white morning
robe, her beautiful hair arranged in drooping
curls at the sides of her head, as was the fashion
of the time.
See me, Mama Grace,” cried Jesse, as he
clapped his little hands, and dug the heels of
his tiny-slippered feet into the pony's side,
in imitation of his father on horseback. As
Montfort watched him, the picture of his last
Sunday in Bermuda arose before him: the
little Negro child astride his mother's back,
spurring her like a rider his horse; and in
his ears rang the pleasant voice of his silver-
haired pastor. At the piazza steps he called a
servant to take away the pony, and turned to
enter the house, followed by Mr. Pollock, with
Jesse in his arms and Charles by his side.
Jesse kept up an incessant chatter. They
passed through the breakfast-room, where
Montfort placed the child upon the floor.
“Charles, help me build my houses !” he cried,
attracted to his late employment at sight of
the golden eagles. “See, papa, all my houses
tumble down. Charles' houses don't fall down,
but mine always do. Come and help me,
Charles.”
" You are not patient enough, my son,” re-
plied the father, smiling down upon his petu-



POLLOCK STOOD A LITTLE Al’ART, (AZING IS AMAZEMEYT
AT THE SCEXE BEFORE HIM.


(


COMING EVENTS CAST SIIAdows."
49
lance. “You must be patient and persevere,
and after awhile you will be able to make your
houses stand. Isn't that right, Mr. Pollock ?”
Pollock stood a little apart, gazing in amaze-
ment at the scene before him. Golden eagles
given to a child to play with was a little beyond
him. He made no direct reply to Mr. Mont-
fort's remark, and if the latter had been an
observant man, he might have been a bit puz-
zled at the expression on his face. But Charles
Montfort was ingenuousness itself, seeing in no
man an enemy. Anson Pollock was his oppo-
site; his ruling passion was covetousness. His
eyes were fairly dazzled by the sight of the gold
so carelessly strewing the floor. It positively
took away his breath.
Come, Pollock, we will talk over those mat-
ters in my study," said Montfort presently. “My
son,” he added, as he paused at the doorway,
“ be careful not to lose your ducats. They are
your portion to pay your college bills when
you cross the ocean to finish your education."
"Going to send him abroad to study?” care-
lessly inquired Pollock.
“Oh, yes; America's all right for me, but
bonny England for my boys.'
Anson Pollock, whom Charles Montfort had
chosen for his friend, was a man of dashing
appearance. He carried his years jauntily, and


50
CONTENDIXG FORCES.
had a good opinion of himself where women
were concerned. He was made much of by
the ladies in the vicinity because of his wealth.
It mattered not that his wife had died myste-
riously. Rumor said his ill treatment and infi-
delity had driven her to suicide; it had even
been whispered that he had not hesitated to
whip her by proxy through his overseer, Bill
Sampson, in the same way he did his slaves ;
but rumor is a lying jade. Nevertheless, his
fair speech, auburn curls and deep-blue eyes, so
falsely smiling, won his way, and Mr. Pollock
was the popular ladies' man of two counties.
He had showered Mrs. Montfort with as-
siduous attention since her arrival three years
before, but he soon found that he made no
headway. Once he dared to tell her of his pas-
sion — that from the first moment he saw her
aboard the “ Island Queen ” he had been mad-
dened by her beauty.
"Why do you tell me this ? ” she cried, in
angry amazement at his daring. “Am I so
careless of my husband's honor that his friends
feel at liberty to insult me?”
Granted that I overstep the bounds of
friendship in speaking thus to you, but it is
from no lack of respect; rather the deed of
one who risks all upon one throw of the dice.
Have mercy, I pray you, and grant me your
friendship – your love."


COMING EVENTS CAST SHADOWS."
51
Then Grace Montfort said, while her eyes
blazed with wrath: “Mr. Pollock, we are
strangers here, my husband and I. He trusts
you, and I have no wish to disturb that trust;
but if you ever address such words to me
again, I shall let Mr. Montfort know the kind
of man you are. I promise you that he will
know how to deal with you." This conversa-
tion had taken place one night at a grand fête,
where Grace had been the belle of the assem-
bly; they were in the conservatory at the time.
Anson Pollock was not accustomed to having
his advances received in this way by any woman
whom he elected to honor with his admiration.
As the indignant woman swept back to the
ballroom, he stood and watched her with an
evil look, which meant no good. After that
they met as usual, but Pollock had never
ventured to speak to her again of love. Out-
wardly he was the same suave, genial gentle-
man, but within his breast was a living fire of
hatred. The two men became faster friends
than ever. Mrs. Montfort was pleased to have
it so; they had so few friends in this alien
land; she felt so lonely, so helpless. She
dreaded making enemies. It was but the lull
before the storm.
When the study door had closed behind the
two men, Mr. Montfort dropped his pleasant,


52
COXTENDIXG FORCES.
careless manner and faced Mr. Pollock with an
anxious face.
" Pollock,” he began abruptly, “I'm worried.”
"What about ? ” asked Pollock, turning from
the window, where he seemed to be viewing
the landscape.
“ Have you heard the rumors about my wife
being of African descent?” Montfort asked,
coming very close to Pollock, as though afraid
the very air would hear him. “There are
threats, too, against my life because of
my
desire to free my slaves."
“Nonsense!” exclaimed Pollock. “I have
heard the rumors about Mrs. Montfort, but
that is nothing – nothing but the malice of
some malicious, jealous woman. As for the
threats against your life, how can you think of
such things a second time. You are among
the most chivalrous people on the face of the
earth, who will protect you in your home.' ”
Montfort stood a moment before his friend,
gazing at him earnestly; then he said: “ Pol-
lock, if anything happens to me, I want you to
promise me to help my wife and babies to get
back to Bermuda.”
Why, what can happen, man; you are
nervous without a cause."
“ In that safe," continued Montfort, not heed-
ing the interruption, “you will find money and


COMIXG EVENTS CAST SHADOW'S."
53
deeds; promise me that you will save them for
my family."
I promise; but it is all nonsense."
" I shall hold you to your promise,” replied
Montfort solemnly.
The committee on public safety generally
met once a month. They had a chairman, but
no one knew his identity save a chosen few of
the committee. Indeed very little was known
positively, as to the identity of any of the
members; certainly no one would ever have
suspected the elegant Anson Pollock of being
connected with such an organization.
On this particular evening - Bill Sampson
lounged by the Jefferson house on the lookout
for some of his friends. Anson Pollock sat on
the broad steps, evidently on the watch for
some one, too. “Hi, Bill !” he called, as the
latter came in sight.
"Holloa ! want me?" returned Bill; and at a
nod from his employer, he followed him through
the entrance to a small back room, generally
used for the meetings of the committee.
Anything new for the committee to-
night?" asked Pollock, as he lounged over the
back of a chair. Bill took a seat on the edge of
the table and began cutting circles in the air
with his rawhide. Bill Sampson was a char-
acter in his way. One could not imagine New-


54
CONTENDING FORCES.
bern without Bill, and no one could possibly
imagine Bill without his rawhide.
Wall, mabby, mabby; depends on what
you call wurk. Somebody," with a sly glance
at Pollock from beneath his bushy eyebrows,
“somebody's been circlatin' a r'port about a
fren' o' yourn.
Well,” replied Pollock sharply.
Looks like we'd treed a 'possum, sho.”
“ Well.”
"Somebody says how's Montfort's slaves is
wurkin' fur part pay; leastways, every mother's
son o' them'll be free inside o' five years.”
'Anything else?”
“We kin' o' thought that'd do fer a spell.
He's done nuff in that ar to convict him an'
buy his halter. Thet'll do fer one pint.”
But that don't cover the case. What luck
have you had in spreading the other report?”
Wall,” said Bill, as he shot a copious
draught of tobacco juice over the sanded floor,
“mos' the fellers think it a pity 'bout Mis'
Montfort. Blamed nice 'ooman. She's been
mighty good to Jeff Peterson's fam'ly, an' Jeff
he feels mighty uncomf'table 'bout hurtin' on
her, durned ef he don'."
You and Jeff want to do your duty,”
replied Pollock. “No matter about sentiment.
Influence is great with certain people, and if


COMING EVENTS CAST SHADOWS.”
55
niggers are tolerated in any way, it will end in
weakening the law, and then good-by to our
institutions."
Course, course; we 'tend ter do our duty;
yas, sir, our whol duty; but it beats all nater
'bout Mis' Montfort. I knowed she wuz mixed
the minute I seed her, but 'ain't nuff to 'tract
'tention." He paused a moment, and then said
with a sigh: “Well, Cap'n, what's yer orders ?”
Pollock saw that the man's sympathy was
more than half enlisted on the woman's side,
and with arch diplomacy changed his tactics.
He handed Bill a cigar, saying, “We may as
well make ourselves comfortable"; and before
the latter had fairly begun to enjoy the fragrant
weed, had called for whiskey and was pressing
him to help himself. Under its stimulating
influence Bill soon lost what slight scruples he
had felt, and was as eager for the downfall of
the unfortunate family as his patron.
“Well, Bill," continued Pollock, “the first
thing to be done is to put Montfort out of the
way; then it will be plain sailing. The next
question is: Who will do that job?”
"Reckon I know jes' the man- a man o'the
right sperrit, who'll be glad to serve his coun-
try fer a reasun'ble consideration. An' thet
remin's me, how much o' the property is to
be resarved fer you?”


56
CONTENDING FORCES.
“ The boys may have what they can get of
it; I don't care for any part of the spoils; all
I want is the mother and the children.”
" Jes' so; wall, now, seein's I understan' the
case jes' as you want it, I'll lay low, set the boys
on; you keep shady an' stan' ready the min-
ute the mine's fired. I ain't got a cuss agin
Montfort myself, but the institootion must be
respected. Sure thar's plenty o' whiskey an'
stuff in the cellur? 'Twould look kin' o' mean
in Montfort not to have a full cellur. It's a big
job, an' the boys'll be thirsty." With this, the
two worthies arose from their seats and saun-
tered through the door and up to the bar.
A day or two after the foregoing, Hank Davis,
true to his word, formally applied to Mr. Mont-
fort for the position of overseer on his planta-
tion.
“What made you think that I wanted an
overseer?” asked Montfort, as he pushed his
hat off his face a little farther and eyed the
petitioner critically, mentally vowing that he
would never place even a horse in the power
of such an ill-favored, beastly looking fellow.
" Wall, most Southern gentlemen don't keer
ter have a nigger overseer. It spiles 'em; they
gives themselves airs, an' git sot up in thar
idees. Thought mabby you, bein' a stranger,
mightn't know our ways. You see, it's jes'


COMING EVENTS CAST SHADOWS."
57
hyar, we have certain rules in this commoonity
that we all mus' 'bide by ef we want t'void
trouble.” As Hank ventured this last remark
in a cautious manner, he scraped the gravel of
the walk with one foot while he slyly noted the
reception of his venture by an upward cast of
his eye.
66
Charles Montfort looked at him a moment
with a slumbering wrath before he asked with
dangerous coolness : “What do I understand by
what you have just said, Mr. Davis ? Do you
mean to insinuate that a man cannot do as he
will with his own property ? ”
Wall, no; not eggsactly; but it's jes' hyar,
to speak plainly as 'tween fren’s,” replied Hank,
as he shifted his tobacco to the other side of
his mouth, “the plain fac' is: I want the job of
drivin' yer niggers, an' you'll want me to keep
the commoonity fren’ly to yer now it's got out
thet yer a-gwine ter set the gang free byme by."
Charles Montfort possessed one character-
istic of the West Indian to a marked degree,
and that was a bad temper under just provo-
cation. Without more ado he seized the
offending Hank by the collar, and with his
riding whip, which he carried in his hand, he
administered a sound flogging to the offender.
As he released him, he said: "When you leave
my grounds, don't you ever set your foot inside


58
CONTENDING FORCES.
the gates again, or it will be the worse for
you.
Hank said nothing as he raised himself from
the ground where the irate man had thrown
him, but as he turned to leave the place he
looked at Mr. Montfort; and even in his wrath
at the insolence of such a mongrel cur, as he
mentally styled Davis, Charles Montfort felt a
shudder of real physical fear pass over him for
a moment. Surprised at himself, he turned to
enter the house, dismissing the whole incident
as a piece of impudence which he had done
well to chastise.
Taking it all in all, Mr. Montfort was not
feeling very happy on this June morning, as
he sat upon the piazza thinking over the late
encounter. An hour passed swiftly away; still
the master of the house continued his medita-
tions; but now he had changed his seat for a
thoughtful promenade up and down the broad
piazza. Finally he said softly to himself: “Yes,
that is just what I will do; I'll send Gracie and
the little fellows home for awhile on a visit, and
there they shall stay until I know just what the
trouble is here about the slaves, and certain
insinuations concerning my family are cleared
up.” When a man makes up his mind that he
has solved a difficult problem that has worried
him, he generally has an air of relief which


COMING EVENTS CAST SHADOws."
59
is the more pathetic, that in nine cases out of
ten he does not believe that his remedy will
prove effective, although he fancies that he so
believes.
When Hank Davis left Mr. Montfort he
moved slowly down the sun-baked road, nurs-
ing his wrath and swearing vengeance. Noth-
ing but the life of the man who had inflicted
such an insult upon him could wipe it out. He
had received the same treatment that he had
given hundreds of his associates, until his name
and presence had become a terror in the
county where he resided. Hitherto he had
given his orders and they had been obeyed;
but here was a man, a comparative stranger, for
whom he considered that he had been willing
to do a great kindness, for a consideration,
and not only had he met with a refusal of his
request but at the same time had received
personal violence of a character that was most
galling to the spirit of any free-born South-
ern man - an ordinary cowhiding, such as he
would mete out to his slave. As he thought
more and more about the matter he grew more,
and more filled with a desire for vengeance,-
not the ordinary kind, but something extraor-
dinary. As he gradually turned over in his
mind schemes for the undoing of the Mont-
forts, he was accosted by the voice of Bill


60
CONTENDING FORCES.
Sampson, calling to him from across the fields.
Bill was overseeing the harvesting of a great
field of cotton, and the voices of the slaves
could be heard droning out their weird and
plaintive notes, as they sought by song move-
ment to lighten the monotony of their heavy
tasks and bring solace to their sad hearts.
Some, in their simple ignorance, may not have
known why they were sad, but, like the captive
bird, their hearts longed for that which was
ever the birthright of man - property in him .
self. Crushed out of sight for many years, the
seed of desire for all those things which make
a man, and sweeten toil, was struggling ever
toward the light of civilization denied to these
poor, ignorant, enslaved souls.
Hank sat down on a log by the wayside and
beckoned Bill over to him. The latter came
slowly across the field and seated himself astride
one end of the log.
“Howdy, Hank”; “Howdy, Bill,” passed in
greeting between the two cronies.
"'Pears like to me, Hank, yer a-lookin' pale,"
remarked Bill, as he trailed his whip backward
and forward in the dust.
Hank could stand it no longer; and with a
terrible imprecation, he unfolded to his friend
his tale of woe and insult. Bill listened with
eager curiosity, and a satisfied, knowing look


COMING EVENTS CAST SHADOWS.”
61
might have been seen to settle about the cor-
ners of his eyes and mouth.
“Wall, wall," said he, "these ar' great times
when a d-West Ingy half-white nigger can
raise his hand agin a white man. Be yer hurt
much, Hank ?"
Some in my body, but more in my
feelin's.”
“What ar' we a-comin'to? I tell you, Hank,
it is 'bout time sumthin' was done.”
"That's all well enough to talk,” replied Hank,
" but what kin a man do agin the money thet
thet feller's got to back him up? I cayn't see
a handle on him.”
“Wall,” replied Bill, “ I kin."
“You kin !” exclaimed Hank, while a slow
smile of derision covered his face ;" wall, I'd jes?
like to know how."
"Yer kin laugh, Hank Davis, but it's a fac'.
'Taint goin' to be no hard job, nuther, to git all
thet money, all them purty trinkets and fine
furniture, and the seven hundred niggers in our
pockets ef” — (and here he paused as though
to give emphasis to his words) “ef we wurks
the thing right.”
“Damn it all, man, why don't yer let out?”
demanded Hank, as he rose excitedly from his
seat on the log. “I'm the man to help on any-
thin' agin thet man, an' yer knows it. No need
of
yer bein' so infernal aggravatin' 'bout tellin'
me."


62
CONTENDING FORCES.
Bill laughed at his companion's excitement.
“Easy thar, easy, Hank. This ar' a mighty
titlish job, but we kin wurk it - we kin wurk it.
Fust place, yer see Montfort's brought them
slaves o'hisn hyar and don't tend to keep 'em
only 'bout ten years, and then every one o' them
will have bought hisself, accordin' to the laws
thet ar' governin' them over to the West Indies.
Now, yer know ther's a bad eggsample to set
befo' the niggers roun' this town. Eny way,
we's goin' to think so,” drawled Bill, with an
expressive wink at his friend. “It's a law of
the United States that ef eny man is caught
creatin' dissatisfacshun among the slaves he
desarves death, and death he gits. Now, this
ar Montfort has been causin' trouble fer us by
his eggsample. Every nigger roun* hyar knows
all 'bout his 'rangements fer givin' his slaves
thar freedom, and I tell yer, Hank, its causin'
dissatisfacshun 'mong all our slaves. An' then
the money, honey, the money! sech sights of it
all done up in little shammy-skin bags, an' thet
boy Jesse settin' on the floor amoosin' hisself
buildin' houses with them gold eagles !”
Hank listened to his companion's words with
open mouth. As the latter finished he said, with
a look of admiration : “Wall, I'll be d-d!
Now, look a-hyar, Bill Sampson, yer needn't tell
me thet all thet yer have just unfolded to me is


COMING EVENTS CAST SHADOWS.”
63
yer own idees, 'cause yer could no more hev
got them thoughts through yer thick head than
I could. Some one's been fixin' yer up. Out
with it now, an' tell me the whole thing. Ef
we's goin' inter this business, we's got to be
square on the deal with our fren's. Who's the
bottom o'this thing?”
Bill produced a plug of tobacco, offered his
friend a chew and took one himself. “What
I'm tellin' yer, Hank, is 'tween fren's,” said he,
chewing and crossing his legs.
" Jes' so," replied Hank.
I wuz tellin' yer the 'riginater o' this plan,
or I wuz about to.” Bill paused to spit out
some of his tobacco juice on the ground, so that
it would not overflow the tank, so to speak, and
run out of each corner of his mouth.
“ Beats
all nater, Hank, how a man'll git dead set onter
a piece o' caliker."
"Meanin' by that, Bill, that Ans Pollock's
got set on some gal.”
' Fact!” said Bill, with a wink.
“Who's ? ” asked Hank.
It mote be Mis' Montfort herself, Hank.”
Sho, you don' say, re'lly,” said Hank, with
a wicked look. “Don'blame him, blamed ef I
do. But thet's all the good it'll do him.”
Bill cut the air into imaginary circles with
his whip, and without taking any notice of his
66


64
CONTENDING FORCES.
friend, continued: “As I was sayin', Ans Pollock,
he says ter me, Bill, thet's a dooced purty
'ooman o' Montfort's,' an' I tol him what I
thought 'bout her havin' black blud in her
somewhar. · Mabby,' says he, 'mabby.' An'
then he says, kin' o' generous like, 'I'd take
the 'ooman an' the two brats, an' the boys might
hev the slaves, an' the money, an' the fixin's in
the house.' I tol him I knew the boys 'd stan'
by him in enything he might do to rid a peace-
ful neighborhood of sech a disturbin' critter as
Montfort. I tol him I thought yer would be
'bout the very match to light on Montfort, so he
wouldn't give us eny more trouble. An' so
we've been waitin' fer the business ter 'velop
itself good an' ripe, an' I jes' think this 'tack o'
Montfort's on yer will 'bout do the business fer
the whole o' them.
“ Bill,” said Hank Davis, as he held out his
hand to his friend, “we's allers been .pardners,
an' I reckon we allers will be."
- nelengahon


THE TRAGEDY.
65
CHAPTER IV.
THE TRAGEDY.
Thus man devotes his brother, and destroys him;
And worse than all, and most to be deplored
Chains him, and tasks him and exacts his sweat
With stripes that Mercy, with a bleeding heart,
Weeps when she sees inflicted on a beast.
CowPER.
“ KISMET," says the Oriental, when unac-
countable evils beset his path; “ It is fate," says
the Anglo-Saxon, under like circumstances: but
fate is the will of Providence after all. Nature
avenges herself upon us for every law violated
in the mad rush for wealth or position or per-
sonal comfort where the rights of others of the
human family are not respected. If Charles
Montfort had been contented to accept the
rulings of the English Parliament, and had
allowed his human property to come under the
new laws just made for its government, although
poorer in the end, he would have spared him-
self and family all the horrors which were to
follow his selfish flight to save that property.
The sun rose clear and resplendent a few
mornings later. On this particular morning
Nature outdid herself. There was a blending
together of all the sweet forces - odorous air,


66
CONTENDING FORCES.
golden sunshine, musical sounds from bird and
from bush; it was pure happiness to feel the life-
blood leaping in one's veins; to feel the marvel-
ous joy of living.
Eight o'clock was the usual breakfast hour
for the Montforts. The family had just assem-
bled at the table; Aunt Cindy had brought
in the great silver coffee urn and placed it
beside Mrs. Montfort. Mr. Montfort had set-
tled himself in his chair with a weekly paper,
for in this rural neighborhood a newspaper
once in a week was a great luxury, when his
attention was caught by the sound of hoofbeats
of several horses on the road. Mrs. Montfort,
with usual Southern hospitality, looked over
her well-appointed board to make sure that all
was in order for dispensing those creature
comforts so dear to the entertainer and the
entertained.
The hoofbeats drew nearer and paused on
the graveled walk. Montfort hastened to the
door, while Mrs. Montfort turned toward the
entrance of the breakfast-room with a pleasant
smile of welcome on her lips. She heard a
number of voices speaking together in an ex-
cited jumble, then a shot, followed by a heavy
fall. Little Jesse ran from his station by his
mother's side through one of the long win-
dows opening upon the piazza. She heard his


THE TRAGEDY.
67
scream of “papa, papa!” and then again the
jumble of excited voices. With little Charles
clinging to her skirts she stumbled blindly to
the entrance and faced the crowd of angry men,
headed by Anson Pollock. Hank Davis had
done his work well, and Charles Montfort lay
dead with a bullet in his brain, sped by an un-
seen hand. Mrs. Montfort's arms were grasped
by rude hands, and she was forcibly drawn out
upon the veranda, where in the sunlight of the
beautiful morning she saw the body of her
husband lying face downward. She was dimly
conscious of hearing the cries of frightened
slaves mingled with the screams of her chil-
dren. Through it all she realized but two
things that the lifeless object lying there so
still was the body of her husband, and that the
sensual face of Anson Pollock, whom she had
grown to loathe and fear, was gloating over her
agony, devilish in its triumph. Then she lost
consciousness.
As she lay upon the green sward, oblivious
to thought and feeling, supported by her weep-
ing maid, who had been ordered to care for her
mistress by Mr. Pollock, Hank Davis came and
stood for a moment looking down upon the
unconscious woman. Suddenly an evil smile
lighted up his countenance. He looked around,
but saw nothing of Anson Pollock, who had


68
CONTENDING FORCES.
disappeared within the house, searching for
money and papers in the safe. Now was his
time. This woman's husband had flogged him
- he would have a sweet revenge.
Those
lily-like limbs, the tender Alesh that had never
known aught but the touch of love, should feel
the lash as he had.
He called to Bill Sampson to help lift her;
and despite the prayers and tears of the poor
slave girl who followed her beloved mistress
until Sampson knocked her senseless with the
butt end of his rawhide, they bore the hapless
lady to the whipping post. She revived as
they reached the spot; and when she realized
the fate in store for her, the sweet woman's
strong soul failed her. She uttered a wild cry
of agony as the rough hand of Hank Davis
was laid upon her to tear her garments from
her shrinking shoulders.
“ Charles, my husband, save me!” she cried,
and fell fainting upon the ground. There was
none to answer the heartrending appeal. He
who would have shed his heart's best blood for
er, lay cold in death. She was soon restored
to consciousness, for Hank's savage instinct for
revenge would only be appeased by the victim's
full realization of her sufferings.
She was bound to the whipping post as the
victim to the stake, and lashed with rawhides


THE TRAGEDY.
69
th
1. ulatus
alternately by the two strong, savage men.
Hank Davis drew first blood by reason of his
wrongs at Mr. Montfort's hands. With all his
mighty strength he brought the lash down upon
the frail and shrinking form. O God! was
there none to rescue her! The air whistled
as the snaky leather thong curled and writhed
in its rapid, vengeful descent. A shriek from
the victim -a spurt of blood that spattered the
torturer -- a long, raw gash across a tender,
white back. Hank gazed at the cut with
critical satisfaction, as he compared its depth
with the skin and blood that encased the long,
tapering lash. It was now Bill's turn.
“I'll go you one better,” he said, as he sighted
the distance and exact place to make his mark
with mathematical precision, at the same time
shifting his tobacco from the right to the left
cheek. Again the rawhide whistled through
the air, falling across the other cut squarely
in the center. Another shriek, a stifled sob, a
long-drawn quivering sigh - then the deep still-
ness of unconsciousness. Again and again was
the outrage repeated. Fainting fit followed
fainting fit. The blood stood in a pool about
her feet.
When Hank Davis had satiated his vengeful
thirst he cut the ropes which bound her, and
she sank upon the ground again - unconscious


70
CONTENDING FORCES.
bleeding, friendless, alone. Lucy had hidden
in the smokehouse with the two children, that
they might not witness their mother's agony.
Meantime, the committee on public safety,
instigated by Anson Pollock to put down an
imaginary insurrection (having no existence
but in his own mind, and supposed to have
originated with the slaves of Charles Montfort)
and to legalize the looting of the house, took
possession of the mansion. Soon the crowd
had stripped it of its furniture and all the
articles of value. The house itself was fired,
and Grace Montfort again became conscious
of her misery in time to see the dead body of
her husband flung amid the burning rafters of
his dwelling. Two and two the slaves were
handcuffed together to be driven to the market
place. Mrs. Montfort, secured to her maid,
was placed in a wagon with her two children;
and so the miserable woman was driven away
from her outraged home.
In those old days, if accused of aiding slaves
in a revolt, a white man stood no more chance
than a Negro accused of the same crime. He
forfeited life and property. This power of the
law Anson Pollock had invoked; and to add
to the devilishness of the plot, had used Bill
Sampson's suggestion of black blood in Mrs.
Montfort, to further his scheme for possessing


TiIE TRAGEDY.
71
the beautiful woman. So the two children and
their mother fell to the lot of Anson Pollock
as his portion of the spoils. Shortly after
these events Grace Montfort disappeared and
was never seen again. The waters of Pamlico
Sound tell of sweet oblivion for the broken-
hearted found within their soft embrace.
After the loss of their mother the two lads
clung very closely to each other. So many
changes had come to them, such desperate,
bloody scenes had dazed their brains and ter-
rified them, that even the loss of their mother
seemed but in keeping with the rest. Bewil-
derment at so much sorrow, the numbness of
black despair was ever with them.
Pollock's rage was terrible when he learned
that Mrs. Montfort had destroyed herself. He
grew morose and unsociable, so that his society
was no longer sought in the county. He
seemed to have a superstitious fear of the chil-
dren, and for a long time would not tolerate
them in his presence. It was common talk
among the slaves that Mrs. Montfort " walked,"
weeping and wringing her hands, night after
night about the plantation.
But wonder could go no farther when Pol-
lock elected to take Lucy in the place he had
designed for Mrs. Montfort. God's mysteries
are past man's understanding; and thus the


72
CONTENDING FORCES.
poor black girl became his instrument to tem-
per the wind to the shorn lambs. Night after
night she stole away to the little attic under the
eaves laden with dainties to tempt the appetite
of the children. For hours she would sit hush-
ing Jesse's sobs upon her ample breast, and
speaking words of comfort in her poor, blind
way to Charles.
When a year had dragged its slow length
past, a stranger in the town stopped Bill
Sampson on the street one day and asked him
if he knew where he could hire a likely boy to
go with him into the woods for a few days and
help arrange specimens of the quartz in that
locality. He was looking up the minerals in
that section for speculators, he said. Bill prom-
ised to get him a boy, and asked Pollock's per-
mission for Charles to go with the man.
“I don't care what you do with him, only
keep him away from me. I'll sell him south
soon," said Pollock.
So it happened that Charles went every day
for a month with the mineralogist. The lad's
appearance, education and refinement puzzled
the man for a time, until he learned the tragic
story.
Charles,” said he, a few weeks later, “I am
about to leave this part of the country. I don't
want to leave you here. Do you think Mr.


THE TRAGEDY.
73
Pollock could be induced to part with you?”
“O sir!” cried Charles, throwing himself at
the gentleman's feet, "for the love of God buy
me and my little brother. If you will only take
us to Bermuda, some one there will pay you
back. My father had money there; we have
friends there. O sir, for the love of God!”
The man looked at the weeping boy as
through a mist. He had a tender heart.
"I will tell you something, Charles,” said he
kindly, as he raised the lad and drew him to a
seat beside him on the grass, with his arm ten-
derly enfolding the child. "I am an English-
man, but it will not do to have that fact known
here, for then I would be powerless to help
you. Anson Pollock would never sell you to
me if he knew that fact. I have been trying to
buy you and Jesse, but Pollock wants to keep
the boy for a valet. He intends to sell you
south ; you are too old to forget, and he fears
you. Now I propose to buy you; and as soon
as possible I shall take you to Bermuda, collect
the proofs there concerning your family, and
then go to England, invoke the power of the
home government, and demand Jesse's free-
dom and indemnity from the United States
government for all the outrages perpetrated
against your family. Can you keep this secret,
and will you try and be patient until I can
accomplish my purpose ?”


74
CONTENDING FORCES.
"I will do anything you say," replied the
boy humbly, “but I hate to leave Jesse. O
mama, mama, my beautiful mama!" and with a
burst of grief he cast himself upon the velvet
turf.
The mineralogist lost no time in completing
the purchase of Charles, and in a few days they
left the town. Then little Jesse, the petted
darling of a luxurious home, found himself
alone in the power of Anson Pollock. He
must wait upon him obsequiously by day, and
be ready to answer his call at any hour of the
night. Under his enemy's eye by day and
night, hopeless, utterly alone upon the wide
waste of waters which represented his life. Oh,
how black, boundless, trackless, was the un-
known future to this unfortunate child! Once,
after his brother was sold, he resisted his mas-
ter— rebelled with all his puny strength. He
was severely flogged. That night he slept in
the lonely cabin kept as a sort of prison for
refractory slaves. Not a sigh disturbed the
silence of the night as he lay in pain, gazing up
at the stars which shone so peacefully through
the dilapidated roof. He thought himself de-
lirious, or was it indeed possible that God had
taken compassion on his loneliness and allowed
the comfort and help of communion with the
dead! He saw his murdered father and mother.


THE TRAGEDY.
75
Hand in hand they passed and repassed over
the gaping holes in the roof of the hut. His
father's noble, loving face smiled upon him; his
mother's curls moved in the faint breeze, while
her loving glance seemed to say: “Courage,
courage, we are ever near you.”
"Father, Grace, speak to me!” he shrieked
in agony.
Then he seemed to feel their actual presence,
tangible though viewless, beside him in the
hut. Calmness came to him, and a change
grand to see in that slight frame. Uncon-
sciously he asked the question: "How long
must I endure before I join you in heaven?”
It seemed to him that he was answered:
“Many days, and even years; but fear not, we
will never leave thee."
After that night Jesse's childhood appeared
to slip from him, and he became a man in
thought. He studied his master, and matched
low cunning with lofty determination. He
rebelled no more, was silent, not provoking
Anson Pollock's wrath. The time seemed
long and dreary waiting for the freedom he
had resolved to have; still he was patient.
Sometimes at night, when rolled in his blanket
on the hard floor, he would weep over the pain-
ful past. Then he would feel the touch of a
tiny hand upon his eyelids. It was his mother's


76
CONTENDIXG FORCES.
hand; he knew it to be so. Then he would
lose himself in sweet dreams and awaken in
the morning refreshed and comforted. So the
years rolled on until he was sixteen. Mean-
time, nothing was heard from Charles and his
supposed friend. Jesse had made up his mind
that Charles was either dead or else lost to him
forever.
Jesse. was now a man in stature, though still
slender, with the saine haughty bearing and
distinguished appearance that had marked his
father. Anson Pollock, upon whom age and
the memory of dreadful crimes were making
fearful inroads, began to look up to the boy
and lean upon him for aid in his various plans
for making money. He had spoken to him of
making him the overseer, in place of Bill Samp-
son, and had even hinted at his taking a mate.
Then Jesse knew that his probation was nearly
That spring Pollock, as was the common
practice among planters, made out passes for
Jesse and sent him to New York in charge of a
vessel filled with produce, and charged to bring
back necessary merchandise for use on the
plantation. Pollock thought the boy still too
young to venture to leave him. Indeed Jesse
had no such idea when he started on his trip to
the North. When the vessel reached New
York, Jesse performed all the necessary duties
over.


TIIE TRAGEDY.
77
disposed of the produce, and reloaded the
ship for its homeward voyage. The night be-
fore they were to sail he sat on the wharf
watching the crews of other vessels making
ready for departure. His mind was engrossed
with thoughts of Charles. He feared some evil
had befallen him.
At any rate,” he said to himself, “I shall
never see him again. And must I remain in
servitude ? Can I do nothing to help myself,
since all hope is gone in that direction ?”
Just then a group of men paused in front of
him. They did not know he was a slave.
“Will you give passage to two on board your
vessel? You are bound for Newbern in the
morning, aren't you? We'll pay you what you
charge,” said one of the group respectfully.
Speak to the cap'n,” called out a man
standing near; “that's nuthin' but a nigger
you're talkin' to.”
“Well," said the one who had first addressed
him, "you're a likely boy, anyhow; who do you
belong to?”
Jesse arose from his seat, white with passion,
and said to the man: “I am no man's prop-
erty; I belong to Jesus Christ!” The ques-
tion had answered itself. When the vessel
sailed the next morning, Jesse was far on his
road to Boston.


78
CONTENDING FORCES.
Traveling then was done by stage, and was
a slow process; but about a week later he stood
beside the stone wall that enclosed the historic
Boston Common, and as he watched the cows
chewing their peaceful cuds and inhaled deep
draughts of freedom's air, he vowed to die
rather than return to Anson Pollock.
He found work in Boston. It mattered not
that it was menial work; he was happy. But
fate or Providence was not done with him yet.
One day he received word that Anson
Pollock was on his way to Boston in search of
him. Again he made a hurried journey. This
time to Exeter, N. H. In his character of a
fugitive slave, the lad had from the first cast
his lot with the colored people of the commu-
nity, and when he left Boston he was directed
to see Mr. Whitfield, a negro in Exeter, who
could and would help the fugitive.
Late one afternoon, just before tea time, a
comely black woman stood in her long, low-
raftered kitchen preparing supper before the
open fireplace. There was every indication of
plenty in the homely furnishings. As the
woman passed rapidly from the cupboard to
the table she would touch with her foot the
rockers of the little red cradle which stood in
the center of the floor. The baby in it was
crying in a fretful way. “Oh, hush, Lizzie,”


TIIE TRAGEDY.
79
>
every minute.
said the mother; "don't be so cross. There
came a low rap at the open door, and in answer
to her “Come in,” Jesse stepped into the room.
“Is Mr. Whitfield in ?" he asked, as he doffed
his hat respectfully.
' No," was the reply, “but I expect him
Sit down, won't you? He'll
soon be in to his supper, I guess."
Mrs. Whitfield thought him a white man,
come on business with her husband. “A hand-
some lad," she thought. Jesse seated himself;
and then as the child continued to cry, said:
'Shall I rock the cradle for you, ma'am ? The
child seems fretful."
Fifteen years later Jesse married Elizabeth
Whitfield, the baby he had rocked to sleep the
first night of his arrival in Exeter. By her he
had a large family.
Thus he was absorbed into that unfortunate
race, of whom it is said that a man had better
be born dead than to come into the world as
part and parcel of it.


80
CONTENDING FORCES.
CHAPTER V.
MA SMITH'S LODGING-HOUSE.
Let not Ambition mock their useful toil,
Their homely joys, and destiny obscure;
Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile
The short and simple annals of the poor.
-GRAY.
“THANK heaven that is done,” said Dora,
as she sat down wearily in her mother's large
rocker in the cosy kitchen. She had been
upstairs the best portion of the day preparing
a room for an expected lodger. There had
been windows to wash, paint to clean, a car-
pet to tack down, curtains to hang and furni-
ture to place in position - in short, the thousand
and one things to do that are essential to the
comfort of the lodger and the good reputation
of the house.
“Are you very tired, daughter?” queried her
mother, as she glanced with loving pride at the
graceful figure before her, at the smooth bands
of dark brown hair, now a little ruffled and dis-
ordered, and at the delicate brown face, now
somewhat puckered and out of sorts from
weariness.


MA SMITH'S LODGING-HOUSE.
81
“Well, not very tired, mummy dear; only
this continual scrub and dig is not always the
cheerful work we would like to think it. Stili
I don't care as long as the house pays."
The mother sighed as she asked: “Did you
give her the front or back square?”
“Oh, I gave her the front square after all.
She's too beautiful for that dreary back room.
I know that it is not business to let a good-
paying room go under our usual price, but
she's a 'steady'; she has the best of references.
Father Andrew gives her the best of charac-
ters, and so I'll chance getting my money back
out of the next cross-grained old bachelor who
comes along. See how mercenary I am getting
to be since I undertook to direct the fortunes
of a lodging-house”; and with a gay laugh the
daughter jumped from her seat, every trace of
fatigue gone, and grasping her mother about
the waist, whirled her around the room to the
accompaniment of a sweet, shrill whistle of the
latest popular waltz. In the midst of the frolic
there came a loud ring of the doorbell, and
placing her panting and protesting mother in
the rocker just vacated, she vanished; and soon
her voice was heard above, as she directed the
placing of the luggage of the expected lodger.
The Smith family consisted of the mother,
daughter and son. A few years before the


S2
COXTENDING FORCES.
opening of our story the father had died, leav-
ing a delicate wife, a young daughter, and a
son just ready to enter college ; also a house
in a respectable part of the South End of
Boston, Mass., with a heavy mortgage upon it.
Like many colored men living in large cities,
his life had been a continual struggle with pov-
erty and hard work, combined with a desire for
advancement for his children, and a clean, self-
respecting citizenship for himself. Smith was a
free-born Southern Negro - a Virginian. His
father had bought himself, and married a free
Woman. After the birth of Henry his mother
died; and when his father married again, his
aunts brought him to the city of New Bedford,
where he had imbibed, along with copious
draughts of salt air, an unwavering desire for
all the blessings of liberty, and strong notions
that a man must depend upon himself in great
measure and carve out his own fortune to the
best of his ability with such tools as God had
furnished him.
Henry Smith's early manhood was spent
upon the sea; and when he at last settled in
Boston, he could converse about foreign ports
and countries with the ease and familiarity of
personal knowledge. Possessed of very little
education, yet he concealed the fact admirably
under a naturally intelligent manner. Soon


MA SMITH'S LODGING-HOUSE.
33
after he ceased to follow the sea he married a
handsome Mulattress from New Hampshire,
and with her help saved a small sum of money
enough to make the first payment on a
home; then began the struggle of their lives.
The masses of the Negro race find for employ-
ment only the most laborious work at the scanti-
est remuneration. A man, though a skilled
mechanic, has the door of the shop closed in
his face here among the descendants of the
liberty-loving Puritans. The foreign element
who come to the shores of America soon learn
that there is a class which is called its inferior,
and will not work in this or that business if
"niggers” are hired; and the master or owner,
being neither able nor willing to secure enough
of the despised class to fill the places of the
white laborers, acquiesces in the general de-
mand, and the poor Negro finds himself
banned in almost every kind of employment.
Henry Smith had his ambitions; but like all of
his meek race, he would not or at least had no
desire to contend with the force of prejudice,
and quietly took up his little business of repair-
ing old clothes in the same patient spirit of the
Jew “old clo'” vender or pawnbroker.
Two children were born to this worthy
couple — William Jesse Montfort and Dora
Grace Montfort. When Willie was seventeen


84
COXTENDING FORCES.
and Dora twelve their father sickened and died.
Thenceforth the burden of the support of the
little family fell upon the mother. Willie was
preparing to enter college, but he cheerfully
gave up his plans and secured a place as bell-
boy in one of the fashionable hostelries with
which Boston abounds; and soon by his at-
tention to business, his gentlemanly manners,
and intelligent understanding of all that was
required of him, made himself invaluable to
his employers. Twenty dollars a month with
board and "tips" was a very respectable show-
ing for a lad of seventeen, and Willie felt him-
self repaid when he saw the great help and
comfort his small earnings gave to his dear
mother. Dora was kept at her studies until
she was graduated from the high school. Mean-
time Mrs. Smith, or "Ma" Smith, as she was
called by all the young people of her ac-
quaintance, increased their income by letting
furnished rooms.
The mother and daughter
shared the same sleeping-room, and will de-
clared himself in favor of an attic chamber as
being the least desirable for renting purposes.
There he established himself in a very com-
fortable nest, furnished after the fashion dear
to all young fellows' hearts, with everything
“ handy." The only occasions upon which will
and' Dora were known to quarrel were the


MA SMITH'S LODGING-HOUSE.
85
66
weekly cleaning days, when the latter would
insist on "tidying up Will's room." Then
shoes were moved from the mantel and the
blacking brushes from the top of the dressing-
case; collars, cuffs and ties were placed in their
proper receptacles, and garments hung in the
clothespress. Then Will would scold a good
deal because he “couldn't find things,” but
by the next morning he would have them
handy” again. Many lodgers were obtained
through Will's acquaintance with young men at
the hotel where he worked, and very soon the
mother was able to see that the debt upon the
home which she hoped to leave her children,
was slowly but surely disappearing. Deep in
her heart was the cherished hope that when
the mortgage was paid Willie would be free
to choose a profession; but they never men-
tioned among themselves the hope which was
cherished in each breast.
As the years rolled slowly by the children
saw that their mother could not do as much as
formerly; and so by degrees, after Dora had
finished school, the burden of the care of the
house fell upon her strong young shoulders,
and 1896 found her taking full charge, and
proving herself to be a woman of ability and
the best of managers, husbanding their small
income to the best advantage.


86
CONTENDING FORCES.
With about every avenue for business closed
against them, it is surprising that so many
families of color manage to live as well as they
do and to educate their children and give them
a few of the refinements of living, — such as cul-
tivating a musical talent, gratifying a penchant
for languages, or for carving, or for any of the
arts of a higher civilization, so common among
the whites, but supposed to be beyond the
reach of a race just released from a degrading
bondage. Whatever grace or accomplishment
may be the order of the hour, it is copied or
practiced among some portion of the colored
population. We may well ask ourselves how
this is done. Among the white Americans
who perform domestic or personal service, how
rare it is to meet the brilliant genius of a
Frederick Douglass; but with this people it is
a common occurrence to find a genius in a
profession, trade, or invention, evolved from the
rude nurturing received at the hands of a poor
father and mother engaged in the lowliest of
service, who see not the nobility of their sacri-
fices in the delight afforded them in watching
the unfolding of the bud of promise in their
offspring. From the bosom of the earth we
take the diamond; pearls from the depth of the
sea; from the lowliest walks of life we cull the
hope of a future life beyond the perplexing


MA SMITH'S LODGI.XG-HOLSE.
87
questions of this present existence. Why
should we wonder or question, then, when we
see the steady advance of a race overriding the
barriers set by prejudice and injustice? Man
has said that from lack of means and social
caste the Negro shall remain in a position of
serfdom all his days, but the mighty working
of cause and effect, the mighty unexpected re-
sults of the law of evolution, seem to point to a
different solution of the Negro question than
any worked out by the most fertile brain of
the highly cultured Caucasian. Then again, we
do not allow for the infusion of white blood,
which became pretty generally distributed in
the inferior black race during the existence of
slavery. Some of this blood, too, was the best
in the country. Combinations of plants, or
trees, or of any productive living thing, some-
times generate rare specimens of the plant or
tree; why not, then, of the genus homo? Surely
the Negro race must be productive of some
valuable specimens, if only from the infusion
which amalgamation with a superior race must
eventually bring. This is a mighty question.
Today, with all the heated discussions of tariff
reform, the parity of gold and silver, the hoard-
ing of giant sums of money by trusts and com-
binations, still the Negro question will not
"down"; it is the most important, the mightiest


88
CONTENDING FORCES.
in the land, and is quietly assuming greater
proportions as it forges its way to the front to
take its place shortly as the gravest question in
the councils of the nation.
When Dora returned to the kitchen her
mother had about finished the preparations
for supper.
The short winter afternoon had
dropped into early twilight. Every alternate
night was Will Smith's early night home from
the hotel, and the little family always managed
to have an inviting tea and to pass a cheerful
evening together. Lately another person had
attached himself to the Smiths; a fellow-waiter
with Will had finally worked himself into the
profession of law, and having established him-
self in business in a down-town office, had put
his admiration for Dora into words, and it was
understood that in due course of time they
would marry.
Dora lighted the lamps, drew the curtains,
and looked about the cosy kitchen with a satis-
faction which might well be pardoned, for even
in palatial homes a more inviting nest could
not be found. The table was carefully spread
with a nicely ironed cloth of spotless white,
red-bordered napkins lay at each plate, a good
quality of plated silverware mingled with the
plain, inexpensive white ware in which the
meal was to be served. Ma Smith, in her neat


MA SMITH'S LODGING-HOUSE.
89
66
calico dress and long white apron, busied her-
self in making the tea and coffee and seeing
that the delicate muffins were browned to just
the right turn, while Dora busied herself in
putting the finishing touches to a house dress
for her mother.
Well, Dora,” said her mother, as she bustled
about the room, “does the young woman seem
pleased with your arrangements ? I am sure
she ought to after all the labor you spent on
that room."
She says she is greatly pleased with every-
thing. Say, ma, she's got a typewriter, and
she says she picks up a good living at home
with it. Talk about your beauties ! my, but
she's the prettiest creature I ever saw!
expect all the men in this house will be crazy
“
I
over her.”
“Yes, dear," replied her mother with a quiet
laugh; "you don't want John making eyes at
her, do you?"
Dora laughed as she said: “ I'd just drop
John P. Langley if I thought he admired any
woman more than he did me.
But really, ma,
you won't be able to keep from loving her; she
has the sweetest and saddest face I ever saw.
I have read of the woman with a story written
on her face, but I never believed it anything
but a fairy tale. You'll believe me when you
see her and talk with her."'.


90
CONTENDING FORCES.
There are the boys,” said her mother, as
the sound of voices reached their ears, together
with the closing of the front door and great
stamping of feet to brush away the snow. The
next moment the door opened, and two young
men entered the cheerful room, and with jest
and laugh bade the two women good evening.
Will Smith was tall and finely formed, with
features almost perfectly chiseled, and a com-
plexion the color of an almond shell. His hair
was black and curly, with just a tinge of crisp-
ness to denote the existence of Negro blood.
His eyes were dark and piercing as an eagle's.
Ladies of high position followed his tall form
with admiring glances as he moved about his
duties at the hotel, and wondered that SO
much manly beauty should be wasted upon
an inferior race.
John Langley, his companion, was shorter in
stature and very fair in complexion. His hair
was dark and had no indication of Negro blood
in its waves; his features were of the Caucasian
cut. He possessed a gentle refinement of
manner, apt to take well with the opposite sex;
but to a reader of character, the strong man-
hood and honesty of purpose which existed in
Will Smith were lacking in John Langley. He
was a North Carolinian- a descendant of slaves
and Southern “crackers.” We might call this


MA SMITH'S LODGING-HOUSE.
91
a bad mixture - the combination of the worst
features of a dominant race with an enslaved
race; and in some measure John Langley
would bear out the unfavorable supposition
upon close acquaintance. Many of his young
friends did not care for him because he de-
veloped a revengeful trait of character. He
liked his ease, and enjoyed indulging himself
in every luxury that his modest means would
allow. He had, moreover, a carefully concealed
strain of sensuality in his nature, which as yet
had never been aroused to an overindulgence
in illegitimate and questionable pleasures; and
with it all he had a mercenary streak, which
made love of money his great passion. He
possessed great political acumen and was
strong in debate, which attracted a certain class
of politicians around him. These attributes,
combined with the practice of his profession,
might eventually make or mar his fortunes in
the untried future that stretched before him.
Seated at the pleasant tea table, the gay
laugh and jolly joke went round, and even Ma
Smith forgot her years and contributed her
share of mirth to the general good time.
“Talking about funny things happening,"
said Ma Smith, “your grandfather, Will, was a
comical genius. You know that I have told
you there were fourteen in our family — all


92
CONTENDING FORCES.
girls, and very near each other in age. When
your aunts, Fanny and Lottie, began to receive
company there was a great time to keep it from
father for awhile. Mother was heart and hand
with the girls and wanted to see them have a
pleasant time, but father did not like it. Your
grandfather worked hard and at night was very
tired, so the dear old man would go to bed soon
after his supper and pipe. Then was the girls'
time. A fire was made in the parlor, which
was at the front of the house, a good distance
away from father's room, and by the time the
young man arrived to make his call the old
gentleman was generally sound asleep. One
night, however, things did not work so well.
In those days we had large open fireplaces;
stoves did not come in until I was about
five years old. I can see that low-ceiled parlor
now with its brick hearth and brass andirons
holding the glowing logs, the flames crackling
and shooting upward, the firelight dancing and
shining on the little cupboard doors on each
side of the chimney. There was a rag carpet
on the floor – your grandmother made her
own carpets from rags; and our floors were
covered with large handmade rag mats, for no
housekeeper was counted much who did not
have a large supply of such things. There
were china figures on the mantel, and vases


MA SMITH'S LODGING-HOUSE.
93
filled with golden-rod gathered the summer
before. The furniture was mahogany, polished
until you could see your face in any part of it.
There was a red cloth on the table which stood
between the two windows, and in the center of
it was a large astral lamp trimmed about the
edges with long crystal pendants, which we
children called diamonds. We thought noth-
ing could be more elegant than that lamp. It
was a wedding present to your grandmother.”
“ Did you have kerosene in those days, ma?”
asked Dora.
“Lord bless you, no; we burned whale oil
or sperm oil in that lamp. Poor people used
candles. Your grandmother used to save her
fat and clarify it and mix it with beeswax to
harden it, and we made our candles every week
as regularly as we did the family cooking.
Sometimes there was danger of the supply of
oil giving out in the stores, and then oil cost
a great deal of money; that never lasted long,
however, and in a few weeks some New Bed-
ford whaler would be in port with a large cargo
of whale oil, and then there would be a big
supply selling cheap."
“I don't see how you got along without
stoves and things,” observed Dora ; " baking
day must have been a terror.”
"We had tin kitchens and Dutch ovens.
We never had any trouble."


94
CONTENDING FORCES.
“What's a tin kitchen ?” asked John.
It's an oven made of tin, for roasting meat.
It stood on four legs about a foot from the floor,
and had a place for a charcoal fire at the back,
and a chimney to carry off the smoke. The
front fastened by a hasp to the back and could
be let down to put the food on the little grate
inside. It was a very convenient arrangement,
and I wish I had one this minute. A Dutch
oven was very much like our iron kettles which
we use for boiling; there was a grate inside to
hold the food.”
" It must have been a great nuisance keeping
house under such circumstances.”
“Well, what became of the young man that
particular evening, ma?” chimed in Will.
“This night father was restless and did not
retire with his usual promptness, and we had
only just got him out of the way when the
expected caller arrived. However, everything
went on very well, and you may be sure that
there was much peeping and giggling on the
part of the half-grown sisters who were denied
the great privilege of the parlor and company
as yet. Your grandmother sat in the kitchen
knitting and trying to keep the younger chil-
dren in order, when to her consternation the
door opened and in walked father. Elizabeth,'
said he, 'I hear a man's voice in the parlor.


MA SMITH'S LODGING-HOUSE.
95
What's the trouble?' Poor mother tried to
explain, and murmured something about a
gentleman calling on Fanny. 'A man,' roared
father, 'calling on my daughter!' and the first
thing we knew, he seized the bucket of water
from the kitchen dresser — we had wells in
those days, and a bucket of water always stood
on the dresser - and started for the parlor and
flung the door open. Without speaking to the
astonished occupants of the room, he stalked to
the fireplace and deliberately poured the water
upon the blazing wood; then he turned to the
caller and said: “Young man, if you have a
home, go to it; this is no half-way house for the
accommodation of young squirts. Fanny,' he
said, turning to your aunt, ‘you go to bed, and
don't let this thing occur again. The young
man left as quickly as possible, and poor Fanny
retired to her room greatly mortified.”
“ That's good discipline for girls,” said John
with a laugh. “If we had more fathers after that
stamp, we fellows would get better wives.”
And we girls better husbands,” chimed in
Dora. “Still, I pity poor Aunt Fanny.”
“The fellow wasn't much or he'd have stuck,
and not been driven off that way. I'd have
made the old gentleman like me in spite of
himself if I had meant business," said Will.
“Oh, by the by, did your new lodger come,
Dora?”


96
CONTENDING FORCES.
“Yes; and, Will, I never met anyone so
beautiful in all my life. You'll be fascinated
when you meet her.”
“ That's you all over, Dora; all your swans
generally turn out geese. I'll bet you a new
pair of Easter gloves that she's a rank old maid
with false teeth, bald head, hair on her upper
lip”
All right, Will Smith, all right. Just wait
until you see her! I'll wager a new pair of
embroidered silk suspenders that you're over
head and ears in love with her long before
that time.”
“ I'll hold the stakes,” cried John.
They rose from the table now, and John said,
with a tender glance at Dora : “ I thought some
one would enjoy seeing the ‘Old Homestead.'
It's at the Boston Theatre tonight; don't you
want to go, Dora?” Dora's eyes sparkled as
he held the two tickets before her.
“Get your things on, Dora; you've just time
to reach the theatre before the curtain rises,”
said her brother.
In a little while the house was quiet, and the
mother and son settled down to the enjoyment
of a quiet evening together.


MA SMITH'S LODGING-HOUSE,
97
CHAPTER VI.
MA SMITH'S LODGING-HOUSE.- Concluded.
The gray day darkened into night,
... Made hoary with the swarm
And whirl-dance of the blinding storm,
As zigzag wavering to and fro,
Crossed and recrossed the winged snow.
- WHITTIBR.
FEBRUARY drew slowly to a close. Boston had
lain for the past three or four days in the grasp
of the snow king. At No. 500 D Street each
tenant seemed content to keep within the
bounds of his or her small domain, literally
“frozed up," as Mrs. Ophelia Davis expressed
it.
No one had seen much of the new lodger.
She passed in and out each morning with a
package of work in her hand; and all day long,
from nine in the morning until late at night
sometimes, the click of the typewriter could be
heard coming from the “first front-square,”
which interpreted meant the front room on the
second floor. Dora had been very neighborly
and had called on Miss Clark frequently.
There was a great fascination for her about the
quiet, self-possessed woman. She did not, as
a rule, care much for girl friendships, holding


98
CONTENDING FORCES.
that a close intimacy between two of the same
sex was more than likely to end disastrously
for one or the other. But Sappho Clark seemed
to fill a long-felt want in her life, and she had
from the first a perfect trust in the beautiful
girl.
Mrs. Smith had furnished her rooms sub-
stantially and well, but there had been no
attempt at decoration. The first time Dora
entered the room after Sappho had settled her-
self in it, she was struck at the alteration in its
appearance. The iron bedstead and the wash-
ing utensils were completely hidden by drapery
curtains of dark-blue denim, beautifully em-
broidered in white floss; a cover of the same
material was thrown over the small table between
the windows; plain white muslin draperies hid
the unsightly but serviceable yellow shades
at the windows; her desk and typewriter occu-
pied the center of the room, and a couch had
been improvised from two packing-cases and
a spring, covered with denim and piled high
with cushions; two good steel engravings com-
pleted a very inviting interior.
“How pretty you have made it,” observed
Dora, looking curiously around the room.
Sappho came and stood beside her, and
the two girls smiled at each other in a glow
of mutual interest, and became fast friends at
once.


MA SMITH's LODGING-HOUSE.
99
“ I always carry these things with me in my
travels, and I find that I can make myself very
comfortable in a short time with their help.”
“I wish you would show me how to do this
embroidery,” said Dora, as she lifted the edge
of the denim curtain before the toilet stand
and critically examined it. “ This is beautifully
done. Where did you learn ? "
"I will teach you with pleasure,” replied
Sappho; but Dora noticed that she did not tell
her where she had learned.
"Do you like your work -- is it hard ? " asked
Dora, as she idly wandered from one object to
another in the pretty room, pausing beside the
desk to glance admiringly at a pile of neatly
written sheets, just taken from the machine.
"Oh, I like the work very well. Sometimes
the dictator is obtuse, or long-winded, or thinks
that the writer ought to do his thinking for
him as well as the corrections; then it is not
pleasant work. But, generally speaking, I pre-
fer it to most anything that I know of. Do sit
down,” she continued, pushing a chair toward
Dora.
“ This man receiveth sinners," read Dora
from a pamphlet on the desk, as she turned to
accept the offered chair. “I see that is your
illuminated text for the day. Are you a Chris-
tian?” Then she saw an ivory crucifix sus-


MA SMITH'S LODGING-HOUSE.
IOI
“Not I, indeed; I have always felt a great
curiosity to know the reason why each indi-
vidual woman loses character and standing in
the eyes of the world. I believe that we would
hang our heads in shame at having the temer-
ity to judge a fallen sister, could we but know
the circumstances attending many such cases.
And, after all we may do or say,” continued
the girl softly, “the best of us, who have
lived the purest lives on earth that mortal can
conceive, find at last that our only hope lies in
the words of that text-'This man receiveth
sinners.'”
“ You are a dear little preacher,” said Sappho
gently, as she looked at Dora from two wet
eyes; “and if our race ever amounts to any-
thing in this world, it will be because such
women as you are raised up to save us.”
Dora laughed and said, as she rose from her
seat: “ I think I am forgetting my errand.” And
making an elaborate bow, she continued: “If it
please your royal highness, I present to you the
compliments of the occupants of No. 500 D
Street, with the request that you will honor us
on Sunday evening, at half after seven, in the
parlor of the worthy landlady of said house,
where an informal reception will be held to
further the better acquaintance of Miss Sappho
Clark with her fellow-occupants of said house.
JIVUNIOIT JU ALIJOJAINIT, JHI


102
CONTENDING FORCES.
Music during the evening. Refreshments at
nine sharp; after which, you are all expected
to retire to your rooms like virtuous citizens.”
“ I herewith most gratefully accept your
kind invitation,” replied Sappho, with a deep
courtesy.
“Ta, ta, then, until Sunday night. I sha'n't
see you before that. I shall be lost for the re-
mainder of the week 'getting ready for com-
ypany'”; and Dora, with a gay laugh, ran lightly
down the stairs.
Mrs. Smith, after many trials, found that
her house contained respectable though unlet-
tered people, who possessed kindly hearts and
honesty of purpose in a greater degree than
one generally finds in a lodging-house. Her
great desire, then, was to make them as happy
together as possible, and to this end she had
Dora institute musical evenings or reception
nights, that her tenants might have a better
opportunity of becoming acquainted with each
other. She argued, logically enough, that those
who were inclined to stray from right paths
would be influenced either in favor of upright
conduct or else shamed into an acceptance of
the right. It soon became noised about that
very pleasant times were enjoyed in that
house; and that a sick lodger had been nursed
back to health, instead of being hustled into the


MA SMITHI'S LODGING-LIOUSE.
103
hospital ambulance at the first sign of sickness.
It was also whispered that to enjoy these privi-
leges one must be “pretty nice,” or as some
expressed it: "You've got to be high-toned to
get in there.” The result, however, justified
Mrs. Smith's judgment, and rooms were always
hard to get at No. 500 D Street.
Saturday was a busy day for Dora and her
mother. At these little gatherings Mrs. Smith
always gave her guests plenty of good home-
made cake, sandwiches, hot chocolate, and on
very special occasions, ice cream or sherbet.
Sunday night there was to be ice cream in
honor of the new lodger. “Good things to
eat,” said Ma Smith, as she industriously beat
eggs, sugar and butter together in a large
yellow bowl, "good things to eat make a man
respect himself and look up in the world. You
can't feel that you are nobody all the time if
once in a while you eat the same quality of
food that a millionaire does."
Dora lighted the lamps all over the house on
Sunday night as soon as it fell dark. In the
parlor there was a handsome piano lamp, which
was only used on special occasions; it was
lighted, and threw a soft, warm glow over the
neat woolen carpet, the modest furniture and
few ornaments. In a corner stood Dora's
piano, given her on her sixteenth birthday by
THE TINIVERSITV AC ANTIINANT 1 Innenro


104
CONTENDING FORCES.
her brother. Very soon after seven o'clock
the guests began to drop in; and as Dora and
her mother were busy still over a few last prep-
arations, Willand John volunteered to act as
the reception committee.
The first comers were the two occupants
of the basement rooms, – those which would
have answered for the dining-room and kitchen
of a moderately well-to-do family living in this
class of house. Mrs. Ophelia Davis and Mrs.
Sarah Ann White were friends of long standing.
They were both born in far-away Louisiana,
had been raised on neighboring plantations, and
together had sought the blessings of liberty
in the North at the close of the war. Mrs.
Davis had always been a first-class cook, while
Mrs. White tempted fortune as a second-girl.
As their ideas of life and living enlarged, and
they saw the possibilities of enjoying some
comfort in a home, they began to think of
establishing themselves where they could real-
ize this blessing, and finally hit upon the idea
of going into partnership in a laundry. After
looking about them for a suitable situation for
such a project, their choice finally fell upon
Mrs. Smith's house, because of her known re-
spectability, and because they could there come
in contact with brighter intellects than their
own; for, strange to say, it is a very hopeless


MA SMITH'S LODGING-HOUSE.
105
case when a colored man or woman does not
respect intelligence and good position.
Yas, Sis'r Smith," said Mrs. Ophelia Davis
the day she and Sarah Ann White went to
engage the rooms; “yas'm, I'm tired o'livin' in
white folkses' kitchens. Yas'm, thar's lots o'
talk 'bout servant gals not bein' as good as
enybody else, specially cooks. Yas’m, I kin
git my five dollars a week with enyone; but
ef you puts on a decent dress to go to church
with a-Sunday afternoon, the mistis is a-won-
derin' how you kin 'ford sech style and you
nuthin' but a cook in her kitchen. Yas'm, I've
got a silk dress, two of 'em, an'a lace shawl an'
a gold watch and chain. People wants ter
know how'd I git 'em. I come by 'em hones',
I did. Yas'm, when my ol' mistis left her
great big house an' all that good stuff — silver
an' things-a-layin' thar fer enyone to pick up
thet had sense 'nough to know a good thing
an’git it ahead of enybody else, I jes' said to
myself: “'Phelia, chile, now's yer time!' Yas'm,
I feathered my nes', I jes' did. Sarah Ann,
you 'member that time, honey, an' how skeered
we was fer fear some o' them Union sojers
would ketch us. You stuffed yerself with
greenbacks, but, honey, I took clo's, too."
“Bless Gawd, Sis'r 'Phelia," replied her friend,
with a chuckle and a great shaking of her fat
DUTUUT VUITIUINN JU ANSÖJNINI HI


106
CONTENDING FORCES.
sides;
"bless Gawd, I disremember how much
I did took in that ar pile; but Lord love yer,
honey, I'se got some o' that money yet.”
. The two women engaged the rooms and
prospered in their enterprise. The clothes
under their deft fingers seemed to gain an
added prettiness. They became the style; and
no young bride on the Back Bay felt that she
was complete unless “The First-class New
Orleans Laundry” placed the finishing polish
on the dainty lingerie of her wedding finery.
Tonight Mrs. Davis wore the famous black
silk dress and gold watch and chain of ante
bellum days, and Mrs. White was gay in, a
bright blue silk skirt and rose-colored silk shirt-
waist. She said that she did not believe in any
of your gloomy colors; for her part, she'd be
dead soon enough and have a long time enough
to stay“ moulderin' inter clay, without buryin'
herself befo' it was time." The next arrival
was the young student preacher from the "first
square-back.” He was due at a prayer meet-
ing; but when the time came for him to go
there, he peeped over the banister and caught
sight of Dora Aitting back and forth in the
entries, and then a whiff of Ma Smith's famous
white cake was borne temptingly to his nos-
trils and banished the last scruple. He satis-
fied his conscience by hugging to his breast


MA SMITH'S LODGING-HOUSE.
107
the idea that his presence was necessary to
give the festivities the religious air which was
needed for Sunday evening. In his Prince
Albert coat and high white stock and tie he
entered the parlor early, so that proper decorum
might be maintained. Two dressmakers from
the “second-front and back” now appeared and
were made very welcome by the family; and
then Sappho entered.
Her dress was plain black, with white chiffon
at the neck and wrists, and on her breast a
large bunch of “ Jack” roses was fastened.
With modest self-possession she moved to Mrs.
Smith's side, and soon found herself being pre-
sented to the occupants of the parlor. For a
moment or two there was an unbroken hush
in the room. Tall and fair, with hair of a
golden cast, aquiline nose, rosebud mouth, soft
brown eyes veiled by long, dark lashes which
swept her cheek, just now covered with a deli-
cate rose flush, she burst upon them — a com-
bination of “queen rose and lily in one.”
Lord,” said Ophelia Davis to her friend
Sarah Ann, “I haven't see enything look like
thet chile since I lef' home.”
That's the truth, 'Phelia," replied Sarah
Ann; "that's somethin' God made, honey;
thar ain't nothin' like thet growed outside o’
Loosyannie."
66


TOS
CONTENDIXG FORCES.
“ Miss Clark," said Mrs.. Davis, during a lull
in the conversation, “I presume you're from
Loosyannie?"
“My mother was born in New Orleans,"
replied the girl.
"I knowed it," cried Mrs. White, as she
triumphantly glanced around the room. “Ol’
New Orleans blood will tell on itself any.
where. These col-blooded Yankees can't raise
nuthin' that looks like thet chile ; no, 'ndeed!”
Two or three of the young friends of the
family who lived in the neighborhood had now
arrived, and the conversation became very ani-
mated. Then it was announced that a literary
and musical programme had been provided.
Dora played an opening piece, which was a
medley of Moody and Sankey hymns; Will sang
“Palm Branches "in a musical baritone voice;
John contributed a poem, and two young
friends gave the duet from “Il Trovatore."
After a little persuasion Sappho rendered the
“Chariot Race " from “ Ben Hur" in true dra-
matic style, and breathing so much of the stage
that the Rev. Tommy James, the young theo-
logian, felt that possibly he might have made a
mistake in going into such hilarious company
on the Sabbath.
“Now," said Mrs. Ophelia Davis, “I'm goin'
to sing 'Suwanee River.' None o' yer high-


MA SMITH'S LODGING-HOUSE.
109
falutin' things can tech that song.
Dora
accompanied her, and soon the air was filled
with Mrs. Davis' ambitious attempts to imi-
tate an operatic artist singing that good old-
time song. With much wheezing and puffing
– for the singer was
neither slender nor
young - and many would-be fascinating jumps
and groans, presumed to be trills and runs, she
finished, to the relief of the company.
Her
friend, Mrs. White, looked at her with great
approval, and immediately informed them that
'Phelia made a great impression the Sunday
before at Tremont Temple.
The whole congregation was to sing
'Where's My Wandering Boy.'- 'Phelia had
no paper to see the words, - not as thet made
eny matter, 'cause 'Phelia can't read nohow, —
an' the gentleman next us on the other side,
he gave 'Phelia a paper thet he had. The
man wanted ter be perlite. Well, 'Phelia was
thet flattered thet she jes' let herself go, an' thet
man never sung another note, he was so 'sprised.
After the second verse 'Phelia saw the distrac-
tion she was makin', an' she says to me, says
she: 'How's thet, Sarah Ann?'an' I says to her:
'That's out o' sight, Phelia !' You jes'ought ter
seen them white folks look! they was paralyzed!
Why, you could hear 'Phelia clean above the
orgin!”


IIO
CONTENDING FORCES.
Meantime the young people in the room had
gathered in a little knot, and were discussing
many questions of the day and their effect
upon the colored people. During a pause in the
music the last remark made by John Langley
was distinctly hcard : “ Yes, I must admit that
our people are improving in their dress, in their
looks and in their manners.”
“What's that, John Langley? " asked Mrs.
Davis, as she leaned forward to catch the words
of the speaker; "colored people improvin'in
ther manners ? . I should think they was!
Don't yer fool yerself 'bout thet, now, will yer?
The other night Sarah Ann and me was goin'
down to Beacon Street to 'liver some goods,
an' the car was crowded with people, an' thar
was a pile o'young colored folks on it from the
West End. Some o' them was a-standin' up
in thet car, an' every onct in a while I noticed
thet a passenger'd squirm as ef suthin' had hit
him. Finally I got so mad I jes' couldn't see
along with sech antics from them critters
a-disgracin' theirselves and the whole o' the res'
o the colored population, an' I jes' elbowed
myself into thet crowd o'young jades — what's
thet (as Will murmured something under his
breath), was they gals ? yas, they was; young
jades, every one o' them! Now what do yer
think they was a-doin'?" she asked, as she
swept her gaze over the company.


II2
CONTENDING FORCES,
bounds of propriety with her in his manner.
The pleasant word and jest were free from all
coquetry: John was dumb before so much
beauty and wit. Will was so blinded by her
charms that he was scarcely conscious of what
he was doing; but not a word or movement of
hers was lost to him.
Dora watched the tea table smilingly. She
loved to see her friends enjoy themselves. It
never occurred to her to be jealous of the
attention given Sappho by her brother and
John Langley.
Presently there were many pleasant compli.
ments passed on the enjoyable evening which
had so quickly flown, and each gentleman pro-
posed a toast, which was drunk in a cup of hot
chocolate; and as the clock struck ten, they all
joined hands and united in singing “Auld Lang
Syne" and “Praise God, from whom All Bless-
ings Flow.” The evening was over; the lights
were out; but up in John's attic chamber the
two young men smoked a social cigar before
separating for the night.
They were silent for some time, and then Will
said: "Miss Clark is a very beautiful woman;
don't you think so, John?"
Well,” replied John, “beauty is not the
word to describe her. She's a stunner, and no
mistake,"


MA SMITH'S LODGING-HOUSE.
113
John went to bed; but Will sat by the fire a
longer time than usual, thinking thoughts which
had never before troubled his young manhood;
and, unconsciously, one face
face ---- the face of
Sappho Clark - formed the background of his
thoughts.
UDUTUU ANUNTUITV QUALIJOJMINIT JHI


114
CONTENDIXG FORCES.
CHAPTER VII.
FRIENDSHIP.
What is so great as friendship? The only reward of virtue is
virtue: the only way to have a friend is to be one. – EMBRSON.
AFTER that evening the two girls were much
together. Sappho's beauty appealed strongly
to Dora's artistic nature; but hidden beneath
the classic outlines of the face, the graceful
symmetry of the form, and the dainty coloring
of the skin, Dora's shrewd common sense and
womanly intuition discovered a character of
sterling worth — bold, strong and ennobling;
while into Sappho's lonely self-suppressed life
the energetic little Yankee girl swept like a
healthful, strengthening breeze. Care was for-
gotten; there was new joy in living. It was the
Southern girl's first experience of Northern
life. True, the seductive skies of her nativity
had a potent hold upon her affections, but
truth demanded her to recognize the superi-
ority of the vigorous activity in the life all
about her. The Negro, while held in contempt
by many, yet reflected the spirit of his sur-
roundings in his upright carriage, his fearless-
ness in advancing his opinions, his self-reliance,
his anxiety to obtain payine employment that


FRIENDSHIP.
115
would give to his family some few of the advan-
tages enjoyed by the more favored classes of
citizens, his love of liberty, which in its inten-
sity recalled the memory of New England men
who had counted all worldly gain as nothing
if demanding the sacrifice of even one of the
great principles of freedom. It was a new view
of the possibilities and probabilities which the
future might open to her people. Long she
struggled with thoughts which represented to
her but vaguely a life beyond anything of which
she had ever dreamed.
Sappho generally carried her work home in
the morning, but ten o'clock would find her
seated at her desk and ready to begin her task
anew. Some days she was unoccupied; but this
did not happen very frequently. These free
days were the gala days of her existence, when
under Dora's guidance she explored various
points of interest, and learned from observation
the great plan of life as practiced in an intelli-
gent, liberty-loving community. Here in the
free air of New England's freest city, Sappho
drank great draughts of freedom's subtle
elixir. Dora was interested and amused in
watching the changes on the mirror-like face of
her friend whenever her attention was arrested
by a new phenomenon. It was strange to see
this girl, resembling nothing so much as a lily
www.uusi vuITTUITV JU ALIJOJNINIT JHI


116
COXTENDING FORCES.
ise bo
in its beautiful purity, shrink from entering a
place of public resort for fear of insult. It was
difficult to convince her that she might enter a
restaurant frequented by educated whites and
meet with nothing but the greatest courtesy;
that she might take part in the glorious service
at fashionable Trinity and be received with
punctilious politeness. To this woman, denied
association with the vast sources of information,
which are heirlooms to the lowliest inhabitant
of Boston, the noble piles, which represented
the halls of learning, and the massive grandeur
of the library, free to all, seemed to invite her
to a full participation in their intellectual joys.
She had seen nothing like them. Statuary,
paintings, sculptures, - all appealed to her
beauty-loving nature. The hidden springs of
spirituality were satisfied and at rest, claiming
kinship with the great minds of the past, whose
never-dying works breathed perennial life in
the atmosphere of the quiet halls.
Now was the beginning of the storm season
in New England, and on stormy days the two
girls would sit before the fire in Sappho's room
and talk of the many things dear to women,
while they embroidered or stitched. So they
sat one cold, snowy day. The storm had
started the afternoon before and had raged
with unceasing fury all night, – -snow and rain


FRIENDSHIP.
117
which the increasing cold quickly turned into
cutting sleet. Morning had brought relief
from the high winds, and the temperature had
moderated somewhat; but the snow still fell
steadily, drifting into huge piles, which made
the streets impassable. It was the first great
storm Sappho had seen. It was impossible for
her to leave home, so she begged Dora to pass
the day with her and play “company,” like the
children. Dora was nothing loathe; and as
soon as her morning duties were finished, she
told her mother that she was going visiting and
would not be at home until tea time. By
eleven o'clock they had locked the door of
Sappho's room to keep out all intruders, had
mended the fire until the little stove gave out a
delicious warmth, and had drawn the window
curtains close to keep out stray currents of
air. Sappho's couch was drawn close beside
the stove, while Dora's small person was
most cosily bestowed in her favorite rocking-
chair.
It was a very convenient stove that Sappho
had in her room. The ornamental top could
be turned back on its movable hinge, and there
was a flat stove cover ready to hold any vessel
and heat its contents to just the right tempera-
ture. Sappho was prouder of that stove than a
daughter of Fortune would have been of the
THE TINIVERSITV AC AAINIAN Vinn.


118
CONTENDING FORCES.
It was
most expensive silver chafing-dish.
very near lunch time, so the top was turned
back, and the little copper teakettle was begin-
ning to sing its welcome song. Dora had
placed a small, round table between the couch
and the rocker. A service for two was set out
in dainty china dishes, cream and sugar look-
ing doubly tempting as it gleamed and glis-
tened in the delicate ware. One plate was
piled with thinly cut slices of bread and butter,
another held slices of pink ham.
Sappho lay back among her cushions, lazily
stretching her little slippered feet toward the
warm stove, where the fire burned so cheerily
and glowed so invitingly as it shone through
the isinglass door. She folded her arms above
her head and turned an admiring gaze on the
brown face of her friend, who swayed gently
back and forth in her rocking-chair, her feet on
a hassock, and a scarlet afghan wrapped about
her knees. Dora was telling Sappho all about
her engagement to John Langley and their
plans for the future.
"I think you will be happy, Dora, if you love
him. All things are possible if love is the
foundation stone,” said Sappho, after a slight
pause, as she nestled among her pillows. Dora
was sitting bolt upright with the usual busi-
ness-like look upon her face.


FRIENDSHIP.
119
“ I like him well enough to marry him, but I
don't believe there's enough sentiment in me
to make love a great passion, such as we read
of in books. Do you believe marriage is the
beautiful state it is painted by writers ?"
Why, yes,” laughed Sappho; “I wouldn't
believe anything else for your sake, my little
brownie."
“No joking, Sappho; this is dead earnest.
Don't you ever expect to marry, and don't you
speculate about the pros and cons and the
maybes and perhapses of the situation?" asked
Dora, as she filled the cups with steaming
cocoa and passed one to her friend.
"Dora, you little gourmand, what have you
got in the refrigerator?” A box ingeniously
nailed to the window seat outside, and filled
with shelves, and having a substantial door,
was the ice-box, or refrigerator, where Sappho
kept materials handy for a quick lunch. Dora
closed the window and returned quickly to
her seat, placing a glass dish on the table as
she did so.
" It's only part of a cream pie that ma had
left last night. I thought it would help out
nicely with our lunch."
What, again!” said Sappho significantly.
That's the fourth time this week, and here it
is but Friday. You'll be as fat as a seal, and
vodi v UITY U ALISONINIT HI
ILI UTILIUILLIT TIL DIN LIMUNDILI
CG


I 20
CONTENDING FORCES.
Sappe
Dora
then John P. won't want you at any price.
Take warning, and depart from the error of
your ways before it is too late.”
Dora laughed guiltily and said, as she drew
a box from her apron pocket: “Well, here are
John's chocolate bonbons that he brought last
night. I suppose you won't want me to touch
them, for fear of getting fat.”
Sappho shook her head in mock despair.
And your teeth, your beautiful white teeth,
where will they be shortly if you persist in eat-
ing a pound of bonbons every day? Think
of your fate, Dora, and pause in your reckless
career
forty inches about the waist and only
scraggy snags to show me when you grin!”
“Thank heaven I'll never come to that while
there's a dentist in the city of Boston! I'll eat
all the bonbons I want in spite of you, Sappho,
and if you don't hurry I'll eat your slice of
cream pie, too." At this dire threat there
ensued a scramble for the pie, mingled with
peals of merry laughter, until all rosy and
sparkling, Sappho emerged from the fray with
the dish containing her share of the dainty
held high in the air.
Presently lunch was over, and they resumed
their old positions, prepared to “take comfort."
“You haven't answered my question yet,
Sappho."


FRIENDSHIP.
I 21
“To tell you the truth, I had forgotten your
remark, Dora; what was it?”
“I suspect that is a bit of a fib to keep me
from teasing you about getting married. What
I want to know is: Do you ever mean to marry,
or are you going to pine in single blessedness
on my hands and be a bachelor-maid to the
end?"
Well,” replied Sappho, with a comical twist
to her face, “in the words of Unc' Gulliver, ‘I
mote, an' then agin I moten't.'”
“What troubles me is having a man bother-
ing around. Now I tell John P. that I'm busy,
or something like that, and I'm rid of him; but
after you marry a man, he's on your hands for
good and all. I'm wondering if my love could
stand the test.”
“That's queer talk for an engaged girl, with
a fine, handsome fellow to court her. Why,
Dora, ‘I'm s'prised at yer!'" laughed Sappho
gaily.
“I'm not ashamed of John P.'s appearance in
company; he looks all right; but when one
is terribly in love one is supposed to want the
dear object always near; but matches, - love
matches, - my child, turn out so badly that a girl
hesitates to 'git jined to eny man fer betterer
or worserer,' as Dr. Peters says. Then I get
tired of a man so soon! (This with a doleful
THE MINIVERSITV AC AAINUTIA 1 innen


I 22
CONTENDING FORCES.
sigh.) I dread to think of being tied to John
for good and all; I know I'll be sick of him
inside of a week. I do despair of ever being
like other girls.”
Sappho laughed outright at the woe-begone
countenance before her.
" It is generally the other way: the men get
tired of us first. A woman loves one man, and
is true to him through all eternity."
“That's just what makes me feel so unsexed,
so to speak; I like John's looks. He's the style
among all the girls in our set. I like to know
that I can claim him before them all. It's fun
to see 'em fluttering around him, kindly trying
10 put my nose out of joint. I must say that
I feel real comfortable to spoil sport by walk-
ing off with him just when they think they've
got things running as they wish. Yes, it's real
comfortable to know that they're all as jealous
as can be.
But for all that, I know I'll get
tired of him.”
“Let us hope not, if you have really made up
your mind to marry him. Dora, sometimes
I am afraid that you mean what you say. I
notice that you call him “John P.: What's the
P for?”
" Pollock — John Pollock Langley. His
grandfather was his father's master, and Pollock
was his name," sang Dora, as she rocked gently


FRIENDSHIP.
123
to and fro. “Now, there's Arthur Lewis," she
continued; "he's jolly.fun. He isn't a fasci-
nator, or anything of that sort; he's just good.”
“Who is he?” asked Sappho, with languid
interest.
“Properly speaking, he's Dr. Arthur Lewis.
We were children together, although he is five
years older than I.
He's a fine scholar and a
great business man. He has a large industrial
school in Louisiana. He's gone up in the
world, I tell you, since we made mud pies on
the back doorsteps; but I never think of him
except as old Arthur, who used to drag me to
school on his sled."
There was a gleam of fun in Sappho's eyes,
as she said demurely: “You seem to know all
about him. Was he ever a lover of yours ?”
“Lover! no, indeed!” Dora flushed vividly
under her brown skin. “The idea of Arthur
as my lover is too absurd.”
"Excuse me, dear, for my mistake,” said
Sappho mischievously. “I didn't know but that
he might be the mysterious link which would
join love, marriage and the necessary man in a
harmonious whole."
"Well,” said Dora, after a slight pause, blush-
ing furiously, “ I don't say he wouldn't like the
rôle. You'll see him soon; he's coming to
Boston on business in a few weeks. Oh, we've
THE TINIVERSITV AC AIRLINAN 1 innan.


I 24
CONTENDING FORCES.
Jo. Levi
had rare times together.” She sighed and
smiled, lost for the moment in pleasant mem-
ories. Sappho smiled, too, in sympathy with
her mood.
Ah, yes; I think I understand. Poor
John!"
“ John's all right. Don't shed any tears over
him,” said Dora testily. They sat awhile in
silence, listening to the sound of the whirling
frozen flakes wind-driven against the window
panes. It was scarce three o'clock, but dark-
ness was beginning to envelop the city, and it
was already a pleasant twilight in the room.
Tell me about Dr. Lewis and his work,
Dora,” said Sappho presently. “Do you know,
he interests me exceedingly.”
“I don't really understand Arthur's hobbies,
but I believe that he is supposed to be doing a
great work in the Black Belt. His argument
is, as I understand it, that industrial education
and the exclusion of politics will cure all our
race troubles."
“I doubt it,” returned Sappho quickly, with
an impatient toss of the head. “That reasoning
might be practically illustrated with benefit to
us for a few years in the South, but to my
mind would not effect a permanent cure for
race troubles if we are willing to admit that
human nature is the same in us as in others.


1 26
CONTENDING FORCES.
might catch just the expression that lighted
her eyes and glowed in a bright color upon her
cheeks.
“I predict some fun when you and Arthur
meet. I'll just start you both out some night,
and you'll be spitting at each other like two
cats inside of five minutes. Arthur thinks that
women should be seen and not heard, whère
politics is under discussion.”
“Insufferable prig !” exclaimed Sappho, with
snapping eyes.
'Oh, no, he isn't; Arthur's all right. But
you see he is living South; his work is there,
and he must keep in with the whites of the
section where his work lies, or all he has accom-
plished will go for naught, and perhaps his life
might be forfeited, too."
"I see. The mess of pottage and the birth-
right."
Bless you! not so bad as that; but money
makes the mare go," returned Dora, with a
wink at her friend, and a shrewd business look
on her bright little Yankee face. “I say to you,
as Arthur says to me when I tell him what I
think of his system: 'If you want honey, you
must have money. I don't know anything
about politics, as I said before, but my opinion
won't cost you anything: when we can say that
lots of our men are as rich as Jews, there'll be


FRIENDSHIP.
I 27
no question about the franchise, and my idea is
that Arthur 'll be one of the Jews."
“Oh!" exclaimed Sappho disgustedly, as she
resumed her lounging position.
“Sappho, how did you come to take up
stenography? I should have thought you
would have preferred teaching.”
“ I had to live, my dear; I could not teach
school, because my education does not include
a college course. I could not do housework,
because my constitution is naturally weak.”
It was noticeable in these confidential chats
that Sappho never spoke of her early life.
Dora had confided to her friend every event of
importance that had occurred in her young
life; and, in harmless gossip, had related the
history of all the friends who visited the house
intimately; but all this had begot no like un-
burdening to eager ears of the early history of
her friend. Wonderful to relate, however, Dora
did not resent this reserve, which she could see
was studied. It spoke well for the sincerity of
the love that had taken root in her heart for
Sappho, that it subdued her inquisitiveness,
and she gladly accepted her friendship without
asking troublesome questions.
“ How did you finally succeed in getting
work? I have always heard that it was very
difficult for colored girls to find employment
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128
CONTENDING FORCES.
را بر
in offices where your class of work is required."
“And so it is, my dear. I sometimes think
that if I lose the work I am on, I shall not try
for another position. I shall never forget the
day I started out to find work: the first place
that I visited was all right until the man found
I was colored; then he said that his wife wanted
a nurse girl, and he had no doubt she would be
glad to hire me, for I looked good-tempered.
At the second place where I ventured to in-
trude the proprietor said: 'Yes; we want a
stenographer, but we've no work for your kind.'
However, that was preferable to the insulting
familiarity which some men assumed. It was
dreadful! I don't like to think about it. Father
Andrew induced the man for whom I am work-
ing to employ me. I do not interfere with the
other help, because I take my work home; many
of the other clerks have never seen me, and so
the proprietor runs no risk of being bothered
with complaints from them. He treats me very
well, too."
“I have heard many girls tell much the same
tale about other lines of business," said Dora.
"It makes me content to do the work of this
house, and not complain.”
“ You ought to thank God every day for such
a refuge as you have in your home.”
“I cannot understand people. Here in the


FRIENDSHIP.
129
<
North we are allowed every privilège. There
seems to be no prejudice until we seek-employ-
ment; then every door is closed against us.
Can you explain this ?”
“No, I cannot; to my way of thinking the
whole thing is a Chinese puzzle.”
Bless my soul! Just look at that clock!”
exclaimed Dora, as she scrambled to her feet
and began gathering up her scattered property.
“Five o'clock, and tea to get. Sappho, you've
been lazy enough for one day. Come down..
stairs and help me get tea. The boys will be
here in no time, as hungry as bears."
Piloted by Dora, Sappho became well ac-
quainted with ancient landmarks of peculiar
interest to the colored people. They visited
the home for aged women on M Street, and
read and sang to the occupants. They visited
St. Monica's Hospital, and carried clothes,
flowers, and a little money saved from the cost
of contemplated Easter finery. They scattered
brightness along with charitable acts wherever
a case of want was brought to their attention.
Dora had accepted the position of organist
for a prominent colored church in the city.
There was a small salary attached to the place,
which she was glad to receive. Sappho usually
went with her to choir rehearsals, and sitting
in the shadows, well hidden from view, would
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130
CONTENDING FORCES.
think over the romantic history of the fine old
edifice. The building, so the story ran, was the
place of worship of a rich, white Baptist con-
gregation in the years preceding the emancipa-
tion. Negroes were allowed in the galleries
only. Believing this color-bar to be a stigma
on the house of God, a few of the members
protested, but finding their warnings unheeded,
withdrew from the church, and finally found a
Sabbath home in an old building long used as
a theatre. These people prospered, and grew
rich and powerful; colored people were alway's
welcome in the congregation. The society in
the old church, left to itself, had at last been
glad to sell the building to its present occu-
pants. Thus the despised people, who were
not allowed a seat outside of the galleries, now
owned and occupied the scene of their former
humiliation. It was a solemn and wonderful
dispensation of Providence, and filled the girl's
heart with strong emotion.
During these evenings, when she waited for
the close of the rehearsals, she became ac-
quainted with many odd specimens of the race:
men of brain and thought, but of unique ex-
pression and filled with quaint humor. One
of these characters was known as Dr. Abraham
Peters, Doctor Peters was a well-read man,
greatly interested in scientific research, but


FRIENDSIIIP.
131
who had lacked the opportunity to obtain
information in his youth. He had been a
slave when a boy, a few years before the Civil
War. Now he was the church janitor, and to
eke out his scanty income kept a little boot-
black stand just around the corner from the
church, and knowing something of medicine
and nursing the sick, had advertised himself
as a magnetic physician. He displayed much
skill in practice, and had acquired something
of a local reputation. Doctor Peters and Sap-
pho were good friends, and he brought out all
his store of knowledge, proudly displaying it
for her approval.
"You see, Miss Sappho, I've knocked 'bout
the worl' some consid’ble,” he said one night,
in his soft Southern tones and quaint Northern-
ized dialect, as they sat in the cosy vestry wait-
ing for the close of the rehearsal. “Ben po'rer
than eny chuch mouse. But I've saved some-
thin', an' I know the worl'. Perhaps you's
int'rest'd 'nuff in an ole man to want to hear
how I come to 'vertis myself as a magnifyin'
doctor, an' where I picked it up, eh?”
“Yes," replied Sappho, “I certainly am inter-
ested in your story."
Well, while they're caterwaulin' on that
Easter anthem in ten flats, I reckon I'll have
time to tell you all 'bout it. Fust I knowed
THE TINIVERSITV AC AIRLIINAAT 1 Innenin
TIADAAI NIHA JA TII*nin 11
66


132
CONTENDING FORCES.
'bout magnetics was brought to my 'tention
down home. Some people said I had the evil
eye, an' some said it was only a strong eye, but
be that homsomever, it was a bad eye, an''a
terror ter watermilyun thieves when it was my
watch on the chickun houses. Magnifyin' an'
hoodooin' is 'bout the same thing down thar,
tho' sense the 'srender mos' all ol’-time doin's
is done 'way. 'Bout the time I realized that I
had this power I had 'sperinced ruligeon, an'
had been jestified an' concentrated, so that I got
the blessin’. Them days, too, I was a-sottin'
out to court my Susie (that's my wife), an' all
the young fellers 'roun’the county was a-sprucin’
up to her jes' like crows 'roun' carr'on. Sun-
day was the day I had mos' on my mind, 'cause
they'd ride up an' hitch thar mules in a line all
along the ole man's fence (you see he had right
smart prop'ty, an' I spec' that had a mighty
drawin' infloonce on some of them shif'less fel-
lers who hadn't nuff skonsh to start thar own
mule team up a hill), an' thar they'd sot like so
many buzzards, waitin' fer a chance to sly Susie
off to chuch under my nose.
I had ter wurk
lively, I tell you; Susie was kin' o' skittish an'
res'less, an' it was fus' come, fus' sarved, with
her, bein' she had her choice. Well, jes' at the
time I got the blessin' I got the insurance that
Susie was gwine ter have me. All the fellers


FRIENDSIIIP.
I 33
was satisfied but Possum Tooit. Possum an'
me was boys together, an' we'd both run each
other purty hard strivin' to come through fust
at the mourner's bench as well as to git the gal.
Possum was beat when he found I had a full
hand and had swept the pot.”
“Oomhoo!” laughed Brother Jones, who was
an interested listener to Doctor Peters' story.
“Oomhoo, Brother Peters; done guv yerself
'way. What you know 'bout ‘full hands an'
pots ?”
Who give himself 'way, Brother Jones?
Ever hear me say Ise better'n enybody else in
this chuch? I'm er man, sah, I'm er man! Ise
done truspassed on the flesh-pots of Egypt as
much as eny other man. Don't yer 'oomhoo'
me, Brother Jones, no sah !”
“Tech a sore place, Brother Peters, tech a
sore place,” laughed the brother as he walked
away, his shoulders shaking like great mounds
of jelly. It was some minutes before Doctor
Peters could recover his equilibrium and go on
with his tale.
“Possum Tooit was so mad an' disapinted
that he finally challenged me to fight a jewel.
I wasn't in no state of mind to be killed by any
of his hoodoo tricks, Possum bein' an export
at puttin' spells an' sech like on enybody fer
from twenty-five cents up to five dollars; neither
THE TINIVERSITV AC AMINTIMAAL 1 Innen
AVHHII NIHIWA Jn *in T


I 34
CONTENDING FORCES.
did I want Susie to think I was 'fraid of Possum
Tooit. So thar I was 'tween a hawk an'a buz-
zard. Well, I accepted the challenge, an' bein'
the defendant in the matter, of course, I had
the choice of weapins, an' I choose rifles. We
kep' mighty secret 'bout the 'rangements, an'
met at moonrise on a field jes' back of the
graveyard. The seconds measured off ten
spaces after we'd shooken hands, an' we each
stepped to our places. Tho' it was a solemn
'casion, I wasn't skeered, but Possum was a
rollin' up the whites of his eyes, an' you could
hear his teeth chatter worse than dried corn
shuks. Ike Watkins was head second, an' he
stood 'tween us, holdin' his red bandanna in his
han' waitin' to say the word. 'Gemplemen, is
you ready?' he says. “Let her go, Ike,' says I.
* Take aim,' says he, an' I pinted the rifle at
Possum, an' callin' up all the power in me I
threw it along the body of the gun plumb
'tween Possum's eyes jes' above the bridge of
his nose.
An' that was a fair target, 'cause the
bridge of Possum's nose was a miracle fer size.
Possum gave a yell when he felt the strength
of that eye, that would a splut yer year-pan in
two. An' in two seconds he was in the worst
alpaca fit you ever seen. The seconds acknowl-
cdged me the victor by a reckless invention of
Providence, they bein' aware that the adversary


FRIENDSIIIl'.
135
wasn't hit by nary bullet, the rities bein' loaded
with salt fer fear of mischief. Possuim owned
up like a man that I was more powerful than
him, because of the sufernatral strength in my
hower
bad eye.
"Well, I kep'on prayin' fer mo' faith until I
got the power in my hands, an' by lavin'em on
a sick pusson I could 'lectrocute 'em instantly;
an'thar bad feelin's would disappear. People
got the notion I could pray a pusson right out
the grave, an' my fame spread abroad until I
began charging fer my services, explainin' to
my patients that the dead might be raised, but
not fer nuthin', after which I seed a fallin' off
in my poperlarity. Business bein' purty brief
jes' then, I took Susie an' moved up Norf, an'
went ter cookin' on a steamboat. I've done
mos' everythin' in this worl', honey, as I tol'
you, to git an hones' livin' without stealin' it.
An' I dunno,” added the old man reflectively,
as he stroked the gray, stubby fringe on his
chin, “ I dunno as I'm eny too good of I got
pushed real hard to help myself out; humans
is humans, an' I've seen many a well-'tentioned
feller settin' in the caboose when times was
hard, an' the mule mortgaged for full value to
three men at once to buy meal an' bread, an'
hog an' hominy, an' terbaccer. But mos' in
ginerally, I've got along without silin' my hands
THE TINIVERSITV NC ALINLIINAAT 1 Inn.no
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136
CONTENDING FORCES.
with other people's prop'ty. Well, honey, they
gave me fifteen dollars a munf an' found, fer
bein' head cook, an' I paid ten dollars a munf
house rent out of that. Things was purty brief,
purty brief. Times was more an’ more spuri-
ous, an' it was work yer wits, Abraham Peters,
to git a livin'. I jes' didn't know whicher way
to turn,
One day I got a telegraph at the other end
of the route that the baby was dead an' no
money to pay the undertaker, an' the ole 'ooman
sick in the bed from worryin'. The Lord jes'
seemed to pour his blessin' down on us in a
house full o' chillun. After Susie'd had twenty
I used to pray the Lord to stop blessin' us that
way, 'cause he could see fer himself that too
many blessins was a gittin' to be a nuisance.
I cooked the dinner myself that day, bein' the
other cook was ashore, an' you believe me, I
sung an' I prayed an' I wrastled fer help in that
ole steamboat kitchen down behin' my bigges'
brass biler where I was kivered from pryin'
eyes. All of a suddint I felt the power, an' the
Lord spoke to me an' he said: 'Git up, Abra-
ham Peters, an' go out an' hoodoo the fust man
you meet. Bless yo, chile, I riz up in a hurry
an' started out, not knowin' no more than
nuthin' what was meant by that. Fust man I
saw when I got on deck was the cap'n; I went


FRIENDSHIP.
137
up to him, an' I smiled. I must have been a
purty picture with my face all grease an' tears.
I says, not thinkin' what wurds I was goin' ter
utter: ‘Mornin', Cap'n; how's yer corporosity
seem to segashiate?' Cap'n he roared; you
could a heard him holler up to Boston. He
slapped me on the back, an' says he: ‘Abe
Peters, that's the gol darndest thing I ever
heard.' With that he hauled out a five-dollar
bill an' gave me, an' walked off laughin' fit to
kill hisself. By night I had twenty dollars in
my pocket, an' everybody on the boat was a
callin' me 'corporosity segashiate.' I've used
that hoodoo ever since, an' I ain't found nary
white gempleman can seem to git 'way from it
without showing the color of his money.
“One of the owners of the boat took a great
liking to me, an' he says to me one day, says
he: ‘Abe, how'd you like to wurk ashore so
you could be nearer your family an' git better
pay?' 'Like it?' says I. ' If you don't want to
pulverize me, don' make me no sech an offer.'
He laughed a bit, an' then he says: “I've got a
big buildin' up Washington Street, an' I want
a trusty man to keep it clean an' look after the
tenants. I'll give you ten dollars a week.'
"I took off my cap, an' I truly bowed down
to that man, an' I says: 'The Lord's been a
wurkin' on yer heart, Mr. Pierson.'
Maybe
THE TINIVERSITV AC AMINAAT 1 innen
TINVAAT NIHIUTAL JO TIM*in Tin
6


138
CONTENDING FORCES.
he has,' says he;'anyholli you can pack up an'
go ashore next trip: pour place'll be waitin' fer
yer.' Fust thing I knowed I was a bossin' a
big job of janitorin. Mos' of the people in the
buildin' was Christian Science. After they'd
got a little bit acquainted with me they found
out the power I had in my hands fer lavin' on.
'Twant long before I was a pickin'up right smart
nussin' nights. Don't suppose you know much
'bout this Science business, do you?" Sappho
confessed her ignorance.
“ Christian Science is a faith-cure; that is,
it's usin' yer brains an trainin' 'em to know
that there's nuthin' 'tall the matter with you ef
you only think there ain't. They argify that
all sickness is a mistake, 'cause it's 'maginary:
I don't b'lieve that, though, cause I had the
rheumatism while I was there, an' the doctors
started in to cure me by prayin' an' wurkin' on
my body through my spirit, an' it warn't no
more good than muthin' tall. I've got as much
faith as eny livin' man, but rheumatism is one
o them things that'll convince you agin' your
will; it will draw speech out of a deef mute an
make a blind man see, when them pains is a
grindin' inter your bones an' jints worse than
a saw cuttin' thro' knots in a cord wood stick.
I'm free to say that curin' my mind didn't have
no effect on my pain, an' I jes' kep' on seein'


FRIENDSHIP.
139
blue blazes an' swearin' like mad. I'll 'low that
faith can move mountains, faith, as lectle as a
mustard seed, an' that's mighty small. Ef you
b’lieve you'll get what you wants an' asks
fer, that's faith. That's good; that's all right.
Trouble is we don't b'licve it 'cordin' to scripter.
We git mad when our prayers ain't answered,
not thinkin' it's 'cause we ain't got horse sense
nuff to use discrection in puttin' our faith on
subjects that is approvin' to the Lord, an' will
fit in with his own idees 'bout runnin' the busi-
ness of the universe. An' that's where faith-
cure is weak, 'cause it's comin' in 'junction with
God. Faith-cure won't operate on any man
where it was preordinated that a pretickler
man was to die with a pretickler complaint.
No'm, we ain't up to comin' in 'junction with
the Lord's business. There's a number of
grand diversions to Christian Science. There's
hypnism an' pessimism an' a number of other
isms, but they all bear the same way — a sort
of applostic healin' of sickness. The doctors
kept after me 'bout my gifts of healin', an' very
kindly showed me wherein I could make an
hones' dollar, an' business bein' business I finally
determined to adop' magnifyin' as a perfeshun.
I've been in the business nigh upon ten years
now, an' I've picked up as good a livin' as any
colored gempleman who has wurked a sight
vrvui i vullvini ZU AUJOJAINIT JHI
SHIMVHALI NYIuam in ulmaniin rir


140
(OVTEXDIXG FORCES.
harder an' had to take piles o’ unregenerate
sass from his boss."
That night they walked home together after
the rehearsal: the four young people — Dora
and John, Sappho and Will. Some one of the
choir boy's walking ahead of them was singing
in a sweet, high tenor voice the refrain of an
old love song: “Couldst thou but know how
much I love thee." It suited Will's mood,
and voiced his dream exquisitely. Across the
heavens the Northern Lights streamed in radi-
ance. Meteors bright and shooting stars added
to the beauty of the night. The moon, at its
full, shed the light of day about them. The
wind whispered amidst the leafless branches
of the huge old trees on the Common and Pub-
lic Garden as they passed them on their home-
ward way. Once Will took her hand in his;
she let it stay a moment while she made an
incoherent little speech about clouds and trees.
Will said nothing. It was not time yet, he told
himself. He would wait a little longer.


THE SEWING-CIRCLE.
141
CHAPTER VIII.
THE SEWING-CIRCLE.
Where village statesmen talked with looks profound,
Imagination fondly stoops to trace
The parlor splendors of that festive place.
Yes ! let the rich deride, the proud disdain,
These simple blessings of the lowly train;
To me more dear,
One native charm than all the gloss of art.
- GOLDSMITH.
Ma Smith was a member of the church re-
ferred to in the last chapter, the most promi-
nent one of color in New England. It was
situated in the heart of the West End, and
was a very valuable piece of property. Every
winter this church gave many entertainments
to aid in paying off the mortgage, which at
this time amounted to about eight thousand
dollars. Mrs. Smith, as the chairman of the
board of stewardesses, was inaugurating a fair
- one that should eclipse anything of a similar
nature ever attempted by the colored people,
and numerous sewing-circles were being held
among the members all over the city. Parlor
entertainments where an admission fee of ten
cents was collected from every patron, were
wivu i NWUITIUITV JU ADSOJAINIT JAI
MVHAN AHDIUM Jn unanin 118


142
CONTENDING FORCES.
also greatly in vogue, and the money thus
obtained was put into a fund to defray the ex-
pense of purchasing eatables and decorations,
and paying for the printing of tickets, circu-
lars, etc., for the fair. The strongest forces of
the colored people in the vicinity were to com-
bine and lend their aid in making a supreme
effort to clear this magnificent property.
Boston contains a number of well-to-do fami-
lies of color whose tax-bills show a most com-
fortable return each year to the city treasury.
Strange as it may seem, these well-to-do people,
in goodly numbers, distribute themselves and
their children among the various Episcopal
churches with which the city abounds, the gov-
ernment of which holds out the welcome hand
to the brother in black, who is drawn to unite
his fortunes with the members of this particu-
lar denomination. It may be true that the
beautiful ritual of the church is responsible in
some measure for this. Colored people are
nothing if not beauty-lovers, and for such a
people the grandeur of the service has great
attractions. But in justice to this church one
must acknowledge that it has been instrumental
in doing much toward helping this race to help
itself, along the lines of brotherly interest.
These people were well represented within
the precincts of Mrs. Smith's pretty parlor one


TITE SEWING-CIRCLE.
143
afternoon, all desirous of lending their aid to
help along the great project.
As we have said, Mrs. Smith occupied the
back parlor of the house as her chamber, and
within this room the matrons had assembled to
take charge of the cutting out of different gar-
ments; and here, too, the sewing machine was
placed ready for use. In the parlor proper all
the young ladies were seated ready to perform
any service which might be required of them
in the way of putting garments together.
By two o'clock all the members of the sew-
ing-circle were in their places. The parlor was
crowded. Mrs. Willis, the brilliant widow of a
bright Negro politician, had charge of the girls,
and after the sewing had been given out the
first business of the meeting was to go over
events of interest to the Negro race which had
transpired during the week throughout the
country. These facts had been previously tab-
ulated upon a blackboard which was placed
upon an easel, and occupied a conspicuous
position in the room. Each one was supposed
to contribute anything of interest that she had
read or heard in that time for the benefit of all.
After these points had been gone over, Mrs.
Willis gave a talk upon some topic of interest.
At six o'clock tea was to be served in the
kitchen, the company taking refreshment in
THE TINIVERSITV AC ALOITINAAT 1 Innenr.
SINTHAI AIMDuo Jn unmanın 7778


144
CONTENDING FORCES.
squads of five. At eight o'clock all unfinished
work would be folded and packed away in the
convenient little Boston bag, to be finished at
home, and the male friends of the various ladies
were expected to put in an appearance. Music
and recitations were to be enjoyed for two
hours, ice cream and cake being sold for the
benefit of the cause.
Mrs. Willis was a good example of a class of
women of color that came into existence at the
close of the Civil War. She was not a rara
avis, but one of many possibilities which the
future will develop from among the colored
women of New England. Every city, or town
from Maine to New York has its Mrs. Willis.
Keen in her analysis of human nature, most
people realized, after a short acquaintance, in
which they ran the gamut of emotions from
strong attraction to repulsion, that she had
sifted them thoroughly, while they had gained
nothing in return. Shrewd in business mat-
ters, many a subtle business man had been
worsted by her apparent womanly weakness
and charming simplicity. With little money,
she yet contrived to live in quiet elegance,
even-including the little journeys from place
to place, so adroitly managed as to increase
her influence at home and her fame abroad.
Well-read and thoroughly conversant with all


THE SEWING-CIRCLE.
145
current topics, she impressed one as having
been' liberally educated and polished by travel,
whereas a high-school course more than cov-
ered all her opportunities.
Even today it is erroneously believed that
all racial development among colored people
has taken place since emancipation. It is im-
possible of belief for some, that little circles of
educated men and women of color have existed
since the Revolutionary War. Some of these
people were born free, some have lost the
memory of servitude in the dim past; a greater
number by far were recruited from the ener-
getic slaves of the South, who toiled when they
should have slept, for the money that pur-
chased their freedom, or else they boldly took
the rights which man denied. Mrs. Willis was
one from among these classes. The history of
her descent could not be traced, but somewhere,
somehow, a strain of white blood had filtered
through the African stream. At sixty odd she
was vigorous, well-preserved, broad and com-
fortable in appearance, with an aureole of white
hair crowning a pleasant face.
She had loved her husband with a love ambi-
tious for his advancement. His foot on the
stairs mounting to the two-room tenement
which constituted their home in the early years
of married life, had sent a thrill to her very
THE MINIVERSITV NE AANINAN 1 inn.nic.
ALL VILLIUIflur full M1.11 11LLA11 L


146
COXTENDING FORCES.
heart as she sat sewing baby clothes for the
always expected addition to the family. But
twenty years make a difference in all our lives.
It brought many changes to the colored people
of New England - social and business changes.
Politics had become the open sesame for the
ambitious Negro. A seat in the Legislature
then was not a dream to this man, urged by
the loving woman behind him. Other offices
of trust were quickly offered him when his
worth became known. He grasped his oppor-
tunity; grew richer, more polished, less social,
and the family broadened out and overflowed
from old familiar “ West End " environments
across the River Charles into the aristocratic
suburbs of Cambridge. Death comes to us all.
Money, the sinews of living and social stand-
ing, she did not possess upon her husband's
death. Therefore she was forced to begin a
weary pilgrimage
a hunt for the means to
help her breast the social tide. The best open-
ing, she decided after looking carefully about
her, was in the great cause of the evolution of
true womanhood in the work of the “ Woman
Question " as embodied in marriage and suf-
frage. She could talk dashingly on many
themes, for which she had received much ap-
plause in by-gone days, when in private life she
had held forth in the drawing-room of some


TITE SEWING-CIRCLE.
147
Back Bay philanthropist who sought to use
her talents as an attraction for a worthy chari-
table object, the discovery of a rare species of
versatility in the Negro character being a sure
drawing-card. It was her boast that she had
made the fortunes of her family and settled
her children well in life. The advancement of
the colored woman should be the new problem
in the woman question that should float her
upon its tide into the prosperity she desired.
And she succeeded well in her plans: con-
ceived in selfishness, they yet bore glorious
fruit in the formation of clubs of colored women
banded together for charity, for study, for every
reason under God's glorious heavens that can
better the condition of mankind.
Trivialities are not to be despised. Inborn
love implanted in a woman's heart for a luxu-
rious, esthetic home life, running on well-oiled
wheels amid flowers, sunshine, books and price-
less pamphlets, easy chairs and French gowns,
may be the means of developing a Paderewski
or freeing a race from servitude. It was amus-
ing to watch the way in which she governed
societies and held her position. In her hands
committees were as wax, and loud murmurings
against the tyranny of her rule died down to
judicious whispers. If a vote went contrary
to her desires, it was in her absence. Thus
THE TINIVERSITY NC ALIPIINAAT 1 Innanir
IL VIITLAJill ur WIILOILAN i IKWALILU


148
CONTENDING FORCES.
she became the pivot about which all the social
me. w.lil and intellectual life of the colored people of
her section revolved. No one had yet been
found with the temerity to contest her position,
which, like a title of nobility, bade fair to
descend to her children. It was thought that
she might be eclipsed by the younger and more
brilliant women students on the strength of
their alma mater, but she still held her own by
sheer force of will-power and indomitable pluck.
The subject of the talk at this meeting was:
“ The place which the virtuous woman occupies
in upbuilding a race.” After a few explanatory
remarks, Mrs. Willis said:
“I am particularly anxious that you should
think upon this matter seriously, because of its
intrinsic value to all of us as race women. I
am not less anxious because you represent the
coming factors of our race. Shortly, you must
fill the positions now occupied by your mothers,
and it will rest with you and your children to
refute the charges brought against us as to our
moral irresponsibility, and the tow moral stand-
ard maintained by us in comparison
with other
races.
“Did I understand you to say that the Negro
woman in her native state is truly a virtuous
woman ?” asked Sappho, who had been very
silent during the bustle attending the opening
of the meeting.


THE SEWING-CIRCLE.
149
" Travelers tell us that the native African
woman is impregnable in her virtue," replied
Mrs. Willis.
“So we have sacrificed that attribute in order
to acquire civilization," chimed in Dora.
“No, not ‘sacrificed,' but pushed one side by
the force of circumstances. Let us thank God
that it is an essential attribute peculiar to us
a racial characteristic which is slumbering but
not lost," replied Mrs. Willis. “But let us not
forget the definition of virtue -'Strength to
do the right thing under all temptations.' Our
ideas of virtue are too narrow. We confine
them to that conduct which is ruled by our
animal passions alone. It goes deeper than
that - general excellence in every duty of life
is what we may call virtue."
“Do you think, then, that Negro women will
be held responsible for all the lack of virtue
that is being laid to their charge today? I
mean, do you think that God will hold us
responsible for the illegitimacy with which our
race has been obliged, as it were, to flood the
world? ” asked Sappho.
" I believe that we shall not be held responsi-
ble for wrongs which we have unconsciously
committed, or which we have committed under
compulsion. We are virtuous or non-virtuous
only when we have a choice under temptation.
www.uus i divuliivity JU ALIJGJAINIT JAI
YAVHA!! NIWA! Jn isminin IT


150
CONTENDING FORCES,
We cannot by any means apply the word to a
little child who has never been exposed to
temptation, nor to the Supreme Being 'who
cannot be tempted with evil.' So with the
African brought to these shores against his
will — the state of morality which implies will-
power on his part does not exist, therefore he
is not a responsible being. The sin and its
punishment lies with the person consciously
false to his knowledge of right. From this we
deduce the truism that the civility of no race
is perfect whilst another race is degraded.'”
“I shall never forget my feelings,” chimed in
Anna Stevens, a school teacher of a very studi-
ous temperament, “at certain remarks made by
the Rev. John Thomas at one of his noonday
lectures in the Temple. He was speaking on
Different Races,' and had in his vigorous
style been sweeping his audience with him at
a high elevation of thought which was dazzling
to the faculties, and almost impossible to follow
in some points. Suddenly he touched upon
the Negro, and with impressive gesture and
lowered voice thanked God that the mulatto
race was dying out, because it was a mongrel
mixture which combined the worst elements
of two races. Lo, the poor mulatto! despised
by the blacks of his own race, scorned by the
whites! Let him go out and hang himself !”
C


THE SEWING-CIRCLE.
151
In her indignation Anna forgot the scissors,
and bit her thread off viciously with her little
white teeth.
Mrs. Willis smiled as she said calmly : “My
dear Anna, I would not worry about the fate
of the mulatto, for the fate of the mulatto will
be the fate of the entire race. Did you never
think that today the black race on this conti-
nent has developed into a race of mulattoes?"
Why, Mrs. Willis !" came in a chorus of
voices.
“Yes," continued Mrs. Willis, still smiling.
“ It is an incontrovertible truth that there is
no such thing as an unmixed black on the
American continent. Just bear in mind that
we cannot tell by a person's complexion whether
he be dark or light in blood, for by the work-
ing of the natural laws the white father and
black mother produce the mulatto offspring :
the black father and white mother the mulatto
offspring also, while the black father and quail-
roon mother produce the black child, which to
the eye alone
alone is a child of unmixed black blood.
I will venture to say that out of a hundred
apparently pure black men not one will be
able to trace an unmixed flow of African blood
since landing upon these shores! What an
unhappy example of the frailty of all human
intellects, when such a man and scholar as
THE LINIVERSITY OC ALIOLIINAA Innenr.
11. Virkilvili ur VILMIGAN LIBRARIES
ha hur


152
CONTENDING FORCES.
Doctor Thomas could so far allow his preju-
dices to dominate his better judgment as to
add one straw to the burden which is popularly
supposed to rest upon the unhappy mulattoes
of a despised race,” finished the lady, with a
dangerous flash of her large dark eyes.
Mrs. Willis,” said Dora, with a scornful
little laugh, “I am not unhappy, and I am a
mulatto. I just enjoy my life, and I don't want
to die before my time comes, either. There
are lots of good things left on earth to be en-
joyed even by mulattoes, and I want my share."
“Yes, my dear; and I hope you may all live
and take comfort in the proper joys of your
lives. While we are all content to accept life,
and enjoy it along the lines which God has laid
down for us as individuals as well as a race,
we shall be happy and get the best out of life.
Now, let me close this talk by asking you to
remember one maxim written of your race by
a good man: "Happiness and social position
are not to be gained by pushing.' Let the
world, by its need of us along certain lines,
and our intrinsic fitness for these lines, push
us into the niche which God has prepared for
us. So shall our lives be beautified and our
race raised in the civilization of the future as
we grow away from all these prejudices which
have been the instruments of our advancement


THE SEWING-CIRCLE.
153
race.
according to the intention of an All-seeing Om-
nipotence, from the beginning. Never mind
our poverty, ignorance, and the slights and
injuries which we bear at the hands of a higher
With the thought ever before us of what
the Master suffered to raise all humanity to its
present degree of prosperity and intelligence,
let us cultivate, while we go about our daily
tasks, no matter how inferior they may seem
to us, beauty of the soul and mind, which being
transmitted to our children by the law of hered-
ity, shall improve the race by eliminating im-
morality from our midst and raising morality
and virtue to their true place. Thirty-five
years of liberty have made us a new people.
The marks of servitude and oppression are
dropping slowly from us; let us hasten the
transformation of the body by the nobility of
the soul.”
THE LININPOCITY 0C Nantinnenina
2212. Hiiii Liivisi Ur wiiiiinilu i VILA1119 ..
For of the soul the body form doth take,
For soul is form and doth the body make,
quoted Dora.
Yes,” said Mrs. Willis with a smile, “that
is the idea exactly, and well expressed. Now
I hope that through the coming week you will
think of what we have talked about this after-
noon, for it is of the very first importance to
all people, but particularly so to young folks."


154
CONTENDING FORCES.
Sappho, who had been thoughtfully embroid-
ering pansies on white linen, now leaned back
in her chair for a moment and said: “Mrs.
Willis, there is one thing which puzzles me -
how are we to overcome the nature which is
given us? I mean how can we eliminate pas-
sion from our lives, and emerge into the purity
which marked the life of Christ? So many
of
us desire purity and think to have found it, but
in a moment of passion, or under the pressure
of circumstances which we cannot control, we
commit some horrid sin, and the taint of it
sticks and will not leave us, and we grow to
loathe ourselves."
“ Passion, my dear Miss Clark, is a state in
which the will lies dormant, and all other
desires become subservient to one. Enthusi-
asm for any one object or duty may become a
passion. I believe that in some degree passion
may be beneficial, but we must guard ourselves
against a sinful growth of any appetite. All
work of whatever character, as I look at it,
needs a certain amount of absorbing interest
to become successful, and it is here that the
Christian life gains its greatest glory in teach-
ing us how to keep ourselves from abusing any
of our human attributes. We are not held
responsible for compulsory sin, only for the sin
that is pleasant to our thoughts and palatable


THE SEWING-CIRCLE.
155
to our appetites. All desires and hopes with
which we are endowed are good in the sight
of God, only it is left for us to discover their
right uses. Do I cover your ground ? ”
“Yes and no," replied Sappho; “but perhaps
at some future time you will be good enough
to talk with me personally upon this subject.”
“Dear child, sit here by me. It is a blessing
to look at you. Beauty like yours is inspiring.
You seem to be troubled; what is it? If I can
comfort or strengthen, it is all I ask.” She
pressed the girl's hand in hers and drew her
into a secluded corner. For a moment the
flood-gates of suppressed feeling flew open in
the girl's heart, and she longed to lean her
head on that motherly breast and unburden
her sorrows there.
“Mrs. Willis, I am troubled greatly," she
said at length.
“I am so sorry; tell me, my love, what it is
all about."
Just as the barriers of Sappho's reserve
seemed about to be swept away, there followed,
almost instantly, a wave of repulsion toward
this woman and her effusiveness, so forced and
insincere. Sappho was very impressionable,
and yielded readily to the influence which fell
like a cold shadow between them. She drew
back as from an abyss suddenly beheld stretch-
ing before her.
vryui I i VIIIviri JU ALJÖJAINIÍ, JHI
allt Viiiiiiiuiii üſ viiuiiitii iiiiiiiii


156
COXTENDING FORCES.
“On second thoughts, I think I ought to
correct my remarks. It is not really trouble,
but more a desire to confirm me in my own
ideas.”
“Well, if you feel you are right, dear girl,
stand for the uplifting of the race and woman-
hood. Do not shrink from duty.”
" It was simply a thought raised by your
remarks on morality. I once knew a woman
who had sinned. No one in the community in
which she lived knew it but herself. She mar-
ried a man who would have despised her had
he known her story; but as it is, she is looked
upon as a pattern of virtue for all women."
“And then what?” asked Mrs. Willis, with a
searching glance at the fair face beside her.
Ought she not to have told her husband
before marriage? Was it not her duty to have
thrown herself upon his clemency?”
“I think not,” replied Mrs. Willis dryly.
“See here, my dear, I am a practical woman
of the world, and I think your young woman
builded wiser than she knew. I am of the
opinion that most men are like the lower ani-
mals in many things — they don't always know
what is for their best good. If the husband
had been left to himself, he probably would not
have married the one woman in the world best
fitted to be his wife. I think in her case she
did her duty."


THE SEWING-CIRCLE.
157
ed
94
“Ah, that word 'duty.' What is our duty ?”
queried the girl, with a sad droop to the sensi-
tive mouth. It is so hard to know our duty.
We are told that all hidden things shall be
revealed. Must repented and atoned-for sin
rise at last to be our curse ? "
" Here is a point, dear girl. God does not
look upon the constitution of sin as we do.
His judgment is not ours; ours is finite, his
infinite. Your duty is not to be morbid, think-
ing these thoughts that have puzzled older
heads than yours. Your duty is, also, to be
happy and bright for the good of those about
you. Just blossom like the flowers, have faith
and trust." At this point the entrance of the
men made an interruption, and Mrs. Willis
disappeared in a crowd of other matrons.
Sappho was impressed in spite of herself, by
the woman's words. She sat buried in deep
thought.
There was evidently more in this woman
than appeared upon the surface. With all the
centuries of civilization and culture that have
come to this grand old world, no man has yet
been found able to trace the windings of God's
inscrutable ways. There are men and women
whose seeming uselessness fit perfectly into
the warp and woof of Destiny's web. All
things work together for good.
THE TINIVERSITY OC HOMINANT 1 Inninir.
ve
04


158
CONTENDING FORCES.
Supper being over, the elderly people began
to leave. It was understood that after nine
o'clock the night belonged to the young people.
A committee had been formed from among
them to plan for their enjoyment, and they con-
sulted with Ma Smith, in the kitchen, as to the
best plan of procedure.
“ The case is this," said the chairman, who
was also the church chorister: "Ma Smith has
bought four gallons of ice cream, to be sold for
the benefit of this fair. It's got to go, and it
rests with us to devise ways and means of get-
ting rid of it."
“Get up a dance,” suggested Sam Washing-
ton, a young fellow who was the life of all social
functions.
" Dance!" exclaimed Ma Smith, “not in this
house."
The choir-master surreptitiously kicked Sam
on the shins, as he said soothingly: “Under
the circumstances I see no other way, as we've
got to sell the cream, and there's no harm in
dancing, anyway.”
“You ain't going to object to our dancing,
are you, Ma? It's all old fogyism about danc-
ing being a sin," chimed in Sam.
“Oh, but my son, I've been a church member
over thirty years, a consistent Christian, and I
never was up before the board for behavior un-


THE SEWING-CIRCLE.
159
becoming a professor. Think of the disgrace
on me if the church took it up," she expostu-
lated tearfully.
“ Look here, Ma, the deacons and ministers
are all fooling you. It's the style for church
members to go to the theatre and the circus, to
balls and everything you can mention. Why,
I've seen our own pastor up to see the Black
Crook, and laughing like all possessed at the
sights. Fact!”
Why, Samuel !” said Ma Smith, “how can
you stand there and tell me such awful stories?”
“Not a bit of a story," declared the brazen-
faced Sam, “it's as true as gospel. I'll find out
what seat the minister gets next June when the
circus comes into town, and I'll get a seat for
you right behind him. If you've never been to
the circus, Ma, and to see the seven-headed
lady and the dancing mokes, you ought to go
as soon as possible. Think of the fun you're
missing."
"Oh!" groaned the good woman in holy hor-
ror, “how you do go on.
“But that ain't nothing to the ice cream,"
continued Sam, “and them girls in there have
got to be warmed up, or the cream will be left,
and there won't be a thing doing when the
committee calls for the money.”
“That's so," replied Ma Smith, beginning to
weaken in her opposition.
www.uusi vuliiviti JU AUJOJMINII JHI
SINHOM NIHOIU!!!! O !!!nin!1118IT
”


160
CONTENDING FORCES.
“Well, mother,” said Will, who had been an
amused listener to the dialogue, “ we'll have the
dance, and it shall be my dance for my com-
pany. No one shall trouble you; you will have
nothing to do with it.”
“Well, if you say so, Willie, it's all right,”
replied his mother with a fond smile; "you are
master in this house."
In the meantime the furniture in the parlors
had been moved out by other members of the
committee, and in one corner a set of whist-
players were enjoying themselves at ten cents
a head for a thirty-minute game, which ended
at the stroke of a small silver bell, their places
being taken by others.
Already it was getting very warm in the
crowded rooms. The doors leading into the
entry had been thrown open, and couples were
finding seats in convenient nooks waiting for
dancing to begin. The girls were thinking of
ice cream.
Rev. Tommy James gravitated
toward Mrs. Davis's corner. She had not gone
out with the other matrons.
"I enjoy a real good time as much as any-
body, children,” she said; "and when it comes
to dancing, you can't lose your Aunt Hannah.”
The Reverend Tommy was always at his
ease with Mrs. Davis. She led him along
paths which caused him no embarrassment.


THE SEWING-CIRCLE.
161
He knew that she looked up to him because
of his education and his clerical dignity. On
his side, he admired her rugged common-sense,
which put him at his ease, and banished the
last atom of his “ladylike " bashfulness. Early
in the winter he had been brought to realize
the nature of his feeling for Mrs. Davis, by
seeing Brother Silas Hamm, recently left a
widower, and having ten children, making a
decided stampede in the widow's direction.
Reverend Tommy was grieved. To be sure,
she was old enough to be his mother, but she
had many good points to be considered. She
was a good worker, experienced in married life
and ways of making a man comfortable. Then
her savings must be considered. When Tommy
reached this last point he always felt sure that
she was the most desirable woman in the world
for a young minister. He felt hopeful tonight,
because he had seen Brother Hamm and his
bride in church the Sunday before. Mrs. Davis
opened the conversation by speaking of the
bride and groom.
“ Hamm and his bride looked mighty com-
futble in chuch Sunday, didn't they?”
“He did. I'm glad he's settled again. It is
not good for man to be alone.”
“ 'Deed I'm glad, too."
“ You — well, well, I'm real glad to hear you
•-•-• vai 1 + + Vildiff TƯ fiiiiiiiiiii đi
SIMHAN AINO!UOIA! !!!!!!!!16 !!!
say it."


162
CONTENDING FORCES.
" What for? ” asked the widow coyly, looking
down and playing with her fan.
“I—I didn't know how you and Brother
Hamni stood.”
Stood! Well, I never.”
“I thought Brother Hamm had been trying
to get you,” whispered Tommy, sitting closer
and putting his arm across the back of her
chair.
“ Law suz, Mr. Jeems, how nervous you does
make me. Do take yer arm away, everybody'll
be a-lookin' at yer, honey. I'm 'sprised at yer
thinkin' I'd look at Hamm an' all them chillun.
Massy knows what the 'ooman he's got's gwine
to do with 'em.” But she looked so mild and
smiling that Tommy went into the seventh
heaven of delight, and so lost his head that
when he heard the call “ Another couple wanted
here!" he took Mrs. Davis on his arm and stood
up on the floor, forgetful of the fact that he was
within a few months of his ordination. A good-
natured matron not connected with the church
had volunteered to supply the lack of an orches-
tra. Waltzing was soon in full blast, and the
demand on the ice-cream cans was filling Ma
Smith's heart with joy, tempered with inward
stings of conscience and fear of the Steward's
Board. Dora was dancing assiduously and eat-
ing ice cream at John's expense, he meantime


THE SEWING-CIRCLE.
163
saying that if she kept on she would turn into
a frozen dainty, to say nothing of a frost in his
pocketbook. Dora declared that it was for the
good of the cause, and he'd “just got to stand
it.” She was wildly happy because of the tender
familiarity between her brother and her friend.
A long-stemmed rose that Will wore in his but-
ton-hole had been transferred to Sappho's cor-
sage. Dora smiled as she caught the half-puzzled,
half-wondering expression on her mother's face.
It was approaching twelve o'clock when it
was proposed to wind up the festivities with
the good old “Virginy” reel. Sam Washing-
ton was the caller, and did his work with the
fancy touch peculiar to a poetic Southern tem-
perament. He was shrewd and good-natured,
and a bit of a wag. He knew all the secret
sighings of the ladies and their attendant
swains. A lively girl whom everyone called
Jinny,” remarked to Sam, referring to the fact
that Sam was on probation: “Your class-leader
won't recommend you to the Board for mem-
bership after tonight.”
Now, Jinny,” replied Sam, stopping in his
business of arranging couples, “don't make
yourself obnoxious bringing up unpleasant sub-
jects. I'll take my medicine like a man when
the time comes; but I'd bust, sho, if I didn't git
loose tonight. I'm in good company, too,” he
THE TINIVEOSITV OC !!!!INAAT 1 Inni
viime viiiiiiuiii iii iviiiiiiiii
&


164
CONTENDING FORCES.
grinned, nodding toward Reverend Tommy and
Mrs. Davis, who were just taking their places
on the floor. “If this is good for Tommy, it is
good enough for me."
All reserve was broken down the instant the
familiar strains of the Virginia reel were heard.
The dance was soon in full swing - an up-and-
down, dead-in-earnest seeking for a good time,
and a determination to have it if it was to be
got. It was a vehement rhythmic thump, thump,
thumpity thump, with a great stamping of the
feet and cutting of the pigeon wing. Sam had
provided himself with the lively Jinny for a
partner, and was cutting grotesque juba figures
in the pauses of the music, to the delight of the
company. His partner, in wild vivacity, fairly
vied with him in his efforts at doing the hoe-
down and the heel-and-toe. Not to be out.
done, the Rev. Tommy James and Mrs. Davis
scored great hits in cutting pigeon wings and
in reviving forgotten beauties of the "walk-
'round.” Tommy“ allowed” he hadn't enjoyed
himself so much since he came up North.
“Yes,” said Sam, “this beats the cake-walk all
holler. Now then, one more turn and we're
done. Forward on the head; balance yer part-
ner; swing the next gent; swing that lady.
Now swing yer rose, yer pretty rose, yer yaller
rose of Texas. All promenade.”


TIIE SEWING-CIRCLE.
165
Everybody declared it had been a wonderful
evening. “Thank the Lord it's over,” said Ma
Smith to Mrs. Sarah Ann White, who was
helping her in the kitchen.
"Well,” said the latter, pausing in her work
with her arms akimbo, “sech sights as I've seen
tonight I never would have believed. 'Phelia
Davis, what ought ter be a mother in Jeru-
salem, kickin' up her heels in your parlor like
a colt in a corn-field; and that Tommy Jeems,
no more fittin' fer a minister than a suckin'
babe, a-traipsin' after her like a balc!-headed
rooster.”
THE SINIVERSITV AC AHIPUINAAL 1 inn.nir
Vi viriiiiiviii vi viiulitAN LIBRARIES


166
CONTENDING FORCES,
CHAPTER IX.
LOVE TOOK UP THE HARP OF LIFE.”
Love took up the glass of Time, and turn'd it in his glowing hands;
Every moment, lightly shaken, ran itself in golden sands.
Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the chords with
might.
- TENNYSON.
Will Smith sat the next evening in his room
trying to engage his mind and chain his wan-
dering thoughts upon an important prize thesis.
As a brilliant philosophical student destined to
shine in the future in the world of science, he
had been requested to become a competitor for
the prize. Ever and anon his attention wavered,
and finally he threw his books and papers to
one side with a sigh, and rising to his feet paced
the floor impatiently. Two soft eyes looked
into his; the low music of a gentle voice seemed
all about him.
“Pshaw!” he exclaimed impatiently, “ I have
laughed at others only to become more of a
drivelling idiot than any of the men I have
ridiculed. I never thought mere beauty in a
woman could move me so.” The smile induced
by pleasant thoughts lingered on his face as he
threw himself upon his couch and tried to bring
order out of the chaos of his thoughts.


LOVE TOOK UP THE HARP OF LIFE.” 167
Smith's hopes were all for a finishing course
at college, and then a course in philosophy at
some good German university. Philosophy was
a mania with him. In vain had bishops and
clergymen of all denominations warned him
that his mania might become a passion, which
would draw him from a right conception of the
Word, and dull his appreciation of the beauties
of Revelation. Will contended that religion
and the natural laws were not antagonistic, and
that being convinced and thoroughly grounded
in his faith, he but discovered fresh evidence of
infinite perfection in the doctrine of his Master
when he sought to expand his faculties and
illuminate his mind by seeking a clearer per-
ception of the interesting relation which weak
humanity bears to the glorious mysteries of
life and the grandeurs of creation.
He laughed at the idea of Latin and Greek
being above the caliber of the Negro and likely
to unfit him for the business of bread-getting in
the peculiar position in life to which the Negro,
as maintained by some, was destined from the
beginning. With him Latin and Greek repre-
sented but tools which he used to unlock the
storehouse of knowledge. The development
of his race was a matter of first importance
to his mind. The only way to bring the best
faculties of the Negro to their full fruition, he
INE IINIVIEWSITY OC AICINAAT 1 Inns
vain viiiiiiiuiii iii iiidiinit Liisi:i:


LOVE TOOK UP THE HARP OF LIFE.169
.” "
ar
as
the unconquerable, saw her chains fall from him
as lightly as a cobweb is brushed away. What
had come to him now at the glance of a soft,
fawn-like eye, the touch of a hand, a caressing
smile, the sound of a sweet voice? Sappho
had been with them two months, but Will felt
that he must have known her for years. Sud-
denly he passed from youth to manhood, and
realized man's destiny. He had assisted his
mother and sister with happy pride, but now
the desire to shield, to protect, to love one
being supremely above all others, rose and
surged within him with a mighty strength.
Although love had come to Smith like a flood
sweeping all barriers before it, yet the very
strength of his desire for her love but served
to restrain decided action. He approached the
desired end slowly and carefully, not to defeat
his own plans. He was well aware that Sap-
pho's nature was a rare one, dwelling much
upon lonely heights, the home of extraordi-
nary moral sensitiveness and high intellectual
development. Again he saw her advancing
toward him in the mazes of the dance: her
hand lay in his; her soft hair brushed his face;
her sweet breath came to him from smiling
rose-leaf lips, and intoxicated his senses.
“The starlike beauty of immortal eyes,"
fringed by long, curling lashes, flashed at him
INE !INIVEPSITY OC AOIN A A1 1 inn.
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"LOVE TOOK UP TUE HARP OF LIFE.
171
was singing in a fine baritone voice a verse of
an old song:
Of all the days that are in the week,
I dearly love but one day.
That is the day that comes between
Saturday and Monday.
For then I dress all in
my
best
And roam with
my
dear Sally;
She's the darling of my heart,
And she lives in our alley.
She pushed the door open and entered. Her
cheeks were glowing from her walk in the brac-
ing morning air, but her face assumed a serious,
questioning look as she discovered Will just
finishing up his self-imposed morning task.
He gave an extra flourish to the brushes to
cover his confusion and annoyance, and kept
right on polishing off the little heater with his
dubious-looking black cloths well filled with
stove polish.
“Well !” she exclaimed.
"Good morning,” returned Will, with a busi-
nesslike flourish of nis cloth, as, having finished
the stove, he proceeded to touch up the bright
piece of zinc under it. “How will she take
it?” he asked himself.
*Well !" she repeated.
Quite well, thank you,” said Will, this time
with a quizzical grin on his face.
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OINAAT 1 inn sinn
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172
CONTENDING FORCES.
“I had no idea you were the fireman, Mr.
Smith.”
“No? In the words of Doctor Peters, 'I do
mos' anythin' in the wurl, honey, to git an
hones' livin' without stealin' it.'”
Will had donned one of his mother's ample
kitchen aprons for the protection of his cloth-
ing. The bib was pinned well up in front across
the broad expanse of shirt bosom; the ample
folds of the apron-skirt enveloped his limbs to
his ankles; the long strings, crossed in the
back, met in front in a huge bow-knot. There
was a streak of smut across one eye, and the
side of his nose was polished to perfection.
The picture was too much for Sappho, and peal
after peal of laughter shook her slight frame.
“Oh, Mr. Smith,” she said, when she could
find breath,“ you do look so funny!”
"“ 'Twas ever thus from childhood's hour,'”
quoted Will, marching up to the mirror to sur-
vey his beauty spots; “I do look rather fetch-
ing,” he continued, with a confidential smile at
his laughing companion.
“Do you do this every day?” asked Sapp!
suddenly sobering down.
“Do what every day?”
"Why, make my fire?”
* It's not your fire any more than anyone
else's fire.”


LOVE TOOK UP THE HARP OF LIFE."
173
' I'm very sorry.”
Sorry! sorry about what? It isn't a crime,
is it, for a man to make a fire for his women
folks?"
“ But I'm not your 'women folks.''
“Look hcre," said Will in an aggrieved tone,
balancing a hod of ashes in one hand and a
pile of stove brushes in the other, “are we
going to quarrel ? ”
“There is no reason why we should if we
agree,” said Sappho, smiling gravely.
That means that we shan't quarrel if I agree
to whatever you are going to propose. What
is it you want to say?” he asked, becoming
grave in his turn. "Is it that I have behaved
unmanly in visiting your room in your absence?
Why cavil about a little thing of that sort ? I
do this for you as I would for Dora.”
Oh, if you look at it that way"- she. be-
gan, a trifle confused by his apparent uncon-
sciousness.
“How else ought I to look at it?”
“ How horrid you are.”
“ Horrid! I don't see what I've said that is
so very dreadful.”
“ You speak so well so cross."
“ I speak like a man talking to a silly girl.”
“Now you are rude again; calling me names.'
Children must be kept in their places," he
said banteringly.
THE INNERS!!! 21 1 Innimira
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174
CONTENDING FORCES.
66
" You're making fun of me."
“Of course I am. What do you expect?”
“But you mustn't make my fire again.”
“I am sorry you found it out; I didn't intend
you to know it."
"I can't pay for having the work done, and
it is not proper for you to do it; there is no
reason why you should do such work for me.”
“Suppose we play you are my other sister;
that will make it all right, won't it?
"No," came firmly from Sappho's lips; "no
more fires."
“See here, I've hit it! Play I'm your father.”
“Ridiculous!"
“What, neither brother nor father? How'd
it do to imagine that you're my mother ? You
can't find fault with that, surely.”
“ How silly you are.”
“No likee me for sonny?" queried Will, with
a sad shake of his head.
“ If you don't leave this room instantly, Wil-
liam Smith, I'll call your mother,” replied Sap-
pho, laughing in spite of herself.
The best play, though, would be sweet-
hearts,” he continued, as though she had not
spoken.
“Sweethearts !”
“Yes, sweethearts; and I believe I could win
the game, too, in spite of your reserve."


“LOVE TOOK UP THE TARP OF LIFE."
175
“ You must be very sure of your power,
young man. You need a lesson in diffidence.”
He held her gaze for a moment, and there was
so much earnestness in the persistent dark
eyes that she blushed furiously. He turned
and abruptly left the room. No more was said
about the fire, but will continued to perform
common everyday duties for her the same as
for his sister. She did her part, too. Many
an evening he found her helping Dora, darning
socks or replacing lost buttons. Will's manner
had changed toward her from that day; from
easy familiarity it changed to a mixture of timid
reserve and marked deference. Sappho noticed
it, but somehow she liked it better. It spoke
to her silently of tender, sacred thoughts. To-
night he thought of the scene just pictured, as
he sat there in his room. She and none other
should be his wife — God willing.
In another part of the house Ma Smith sat
before the fire in her chamber and meditated
on many things. The knitting with which the
busy hands were always engaged when at lei-
sure, dropped in her lap, and lay there unheeded.
She thought of the incident of Sappho and the
rose of the night before, and the merry, teasing
look that had flashed out at her for one instant
from Dora's laughing eyes. Could it be pos-
sible that she was about to lose her son? Dora's
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176
CONTENDING FORCES.
engagement to John Langley had been a source
of great satisfaction to her; the old-fashioned
notion was still strong within her that it was
the right destiny for girls to marry, and that
the only cause for a mother to grieve in the
idea of marriage for her daughter was the awful
chance of that daughter's remaining single.
The girl's life should be lost in that of the wife
and mother. Such an end to maidenhood was
a happy achievement for the girl and a glory to
her family. But with her boy it was different.
He was her first-born, and memory was busy
tonight with the past.
Her Will with a wife! herself a grandmother !
To renew at this age the joys which had been
hers when first he lay within her arms soft
morsel of humanity, with sweet brown face and
melting black eyes that mirrored themselves
within the citadel of her heart. Ma Smith had
known much sorrow in her life. She could tell
you of hard times when it seemed that the
combined efforts of her husband and herself
would not avail to keep the wolf from the door.
She knew what it was to bake and brew, to
mend and make over, to minister to the needs
of childhood with increasing maternal cares
near at hand. With all this, the offered work
which added a few dollars to their little store
was always gladly accepted. But she would


LOVE TOOK UP THE HARP OF LIFE.” 177
tell you also that she would not have given one
hour of those days, with all their privations,
for the happiness that she enjoyed when in the
privacy of a humble home she counted her
precious jewels "- an honest husband and two
beautiful children. “Yes,” she was wont to
say, “we had a hard time, and sometimes the
waters of affliction seemed about to sweep us
from our foothold, but somehow just when
everything was darkest we could see the light
of prosperity shining through the clouds, and
we would take courage, bless the Lord, and
keep on struggling.”
Tonight she lived those struggles over again,
and tried to imagine what it would be to have
another share the love and reverence of the
idolized son. At first it seemed that she could
not endure the thought; but then she remem-
bered how happy she had been in her married
life, and prayed the Lord to deliver her from
selfish desires. Who was she to stand in the
way of her son's happiness -a son whom she
loved? Sappho Clark was beautiful; she be-
lieved her to be a girl of exemplary conduct.
Sappho was always deferential to her, giving to
the elder woman the gentle deference which,
coming from youth, is so dear to those advanced
in years. So with a heart overflowing with
love, and filled with kind and tender thoughts,
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178
CONTEXDING FORCES.
it was no mystery where the pretty old face
had caught its added charm of heavenly bright-
ness. So Dora found her when she returned
from spending the evening with some young
friends.
“Why, mummy dear, I declare you are grow-
ing younger and handsomer every day. We
girls must look to our laurels if you keep on
growing so pretty."
· Well, my love, I have been thinking of your
father tonight, and how happy we were when
you and Will were wee tots.”
Dora knew well what had set her mother
thinking. She appreciated her feelings. She
knew that her mother had always felt that no
woman could be good enough for Will's wife.
She felt instinctively that her mother had faced
the difficulty alone that evening and conquered
it, effacing herself and her desires for the hap-
piness of her son. With her usual impulsive-
ness Dora threw herself on her knees beside
her mother's chair, and drawing her face down
to her, kissed the wrinkled brow and smoothed
the soft white hair.
Mummy, dear,” she said, “you have made
up your mind to give him up to Sappho if
things turn out that way?”
“Yes, my dear,” replied her mother, with her
hand upon the dark braids beside her. “I will
Dora
sapho



DORA THREW HERSELF ON TIER KNEES BESIDE HER MOTHER'S CHAIR.





180
CONTENDING FORCES.
"Ma,” said Dora after a silence, “why is it
that Southern colored people seem to be so
prejudiced against the Northern colored people?
I always fancied that we were all in the same
boat, and that mere accidental tocafity was not
to be considered.”
* That is true, my dear; but it must be that
you imagine the prejudice to exist that you
mention; surely we have outgrown such ideas,
as a race, by this time.”
Dora shook her head obstinately. “I fancied
that the Wilsons slighted me tonight, and that
they would have been better pleased if John
had chosen a Southern girl.”
“You are over-sensitive, Dora.”
Dora did not reply, and after a moment's
silence continued: “John said that he had
not met a decent-looking woman who was
Northern-born, and that when he did see a
pretty colored girl on the street he knew with-
out asking that she was a Southerner."
" That was rather thoughtless in John, but I
don't think he meant to hurt your feelings,
daughter."
"I cannot imagine what has got into him
lately; he's not like himself. Oh, I do wish I
was handsome like Sappho Clark! All the men
are wild over her.”
“Well, my dear, you don't harbor hard feel-


“LOVE TOOK UP THE TIARľOF LIFE."
181
ings against Sappho on that account, do you?
That would not be like you, Dora, and would
grieve me very much."
“Sappho is the best and dearest girl on carth,
and I only hope that W'ill may be so lucky as
to marry her. And, mummy; I hope Will will
speak to her right off, so as to get the matter
straightened out; there won't be a blessed man
left to us girls if she remains single long."
Her mother smiled. Daughter, I want to
say just a word to you about our conversation :
Don't allow jealousy to lurk in your heart;
don't brood over unkind words; cast them
from you. And I would have you remember,
also, that sectional prejudice has always been
fostered by the Southern whites among the
Negroes to stifle natural feelings of brotherly
love among us. Dissension means disunion.
Carry these thoughts always in your mind, and
act accordingly. Do not allow yourself to be
made unhappy.
iiiiiviii viiviiuiiHILIKNL KIDS
Meanwhile on the floor above them Sappho
turned restlessly on her pillow, thinking of a
noble head and bright dark eyes. She knew
that Will Smith loved her. What woman does
not feel the subtle intertwining of a kindred
spirit linked to her own by the decree of Des-
tiny, long years, perhaps, before either restless


182
CONTENDING FORCES.
soul has entered upon its earthly pilgrimage.
She was not happy in her knowledge. Under
cover of the friendly darkness she gave up the
long struggle for self-control, and indulged in
the grief that she knew was hers for all eternity.
Oh, for death, the solitude of the grave and
self-forgetfulness.
"What have I done, what have I done to
suffer thus ? To give up all joy, and have only
misery for all my life. I love this man; I know
it now! I want his love, his care, his protec-
tion. I want him through life and beyond the
grave, we two as one — my husband. Oh, my
God, help me, help me!” Heavy sobs shook
her frame. Broken exclamations fell from her
lips. “I cannot! It must not be! So good,
so noble! Oh, the happiness of home and love!
must I be shut from them forever?"
Far into the night the agony of sobs con-
tinued. At last with a murmured prayer for
help she fell asleep.


THE FAIR.
183
CHAPTER X.
THE FAIR.
“ BOISTEROUS jest and humor unrefined,
That leave, though rough, no painful sting behind;
Warm social joys surround the Negro's cot.
No ennui clouds, no coming cares annoy,
Nor wants nor sorrows check the Negro's joy."
O
The days went on apace at No. 500 D Street,
but a spirit of restlessness seemed to pervade
the atmosphere; expectancy was on tiptoe.
Everyone was absorbed in preparations for the
fair. Such a time had not been known for
years among the colored people. Every avail-
able individual was pressed into the service.
Naturally many factions had arisen, and a
fierce but friendly rivalry divided the different
societies within the church. Some of these
were none too cordial to the outsiders who had
joined them, and whom they dubbed in derision
"the colored 400."
" I'd jes' like to know," said Sister Mary Jane
Robinson, with a hand on each hip, “I'd jes'
like to know who asked the '400' fer eny o'
thar help? I've been a member hyar fer more'n
thurty years, and this chuch has lived with-
out 'em.” This was one morning directly after
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184
CONTENDING FORCES.
service, while the good sisters were waiting for
class to begin. As the fair was the all-absorb-
ing topic at present, conversation naturally
ended in going over all the interesting details
connected with it.
“Lor', Sis' Robberson, what mortal diffur-
unce does it make as long as the chuch gits the
money? The mo' helpers we has the easier it
makes it fer we-uns," replied Sister Scott, as
she endeavored to pour oil on the troubled
waters. Sister Robinson was a veritable fire-
brand; she spoke first and thought afterwards.
“ Thar's that Mrs. Willis with her High
Chuch' notions," continued Sister Robinson.
“Sister Smith has made her presidunt of the
fine arts and fancy work department. Warn't
eny o'the members o' this chuch good enough,
an’ they didn't know enough, did they, to 'tend
to that bisiness! Thar's that pianner an' that
silver set an' that ar gold watch an' chain that's
goin' to be voted fer. Ef that stuff don't be lef'
right hyar in this chuch thar's gwine ter be
trouble. An'as fer that dimon' pin that's to
go to the one who sells the most admission
tickets — well, now, ef the hard wurkin' sisters
o'this chuch what swets over the washtub
earnin' an' hones' livin' don't desarve it, then
what's the matter? yas, I wants ter know what's
the matter ?” Here the irate woman sawed


THE FAIR.
185
the air with hand and arm as she laid down the
law on the back of the nearest settee. By this
time a group of sisters attracted by her loud
tones had gathered around, anxious to learn
what the trouble could be.
“Well, honey,” said one meek-looking woman,
"don't le's borry trouble. The way the com-
mittee has fixed the bisness I cayn't see how
thar can be eny monkeyin' with the votin' or
sellin' o' the tickets. I do declar', my dear, I
think the right ones will git the prizes."
“I'm a-doin' my level best,” said another sis-
ter with hands hard and horny with toil, “ I'm
a-doin' my level best to git that dimon' pin fer
my Mandy. I've got William Vanderbilt and
Charles Sumner Astor Gould and the twins all
out sellin' tickets 'mong my white people. An'
'
I tell you, sisters, you's all goin' to have a hard
time to git 'way with yer Aunt Hanner Jackson
this time.”
The family surname was Jackson, but Mrs.
Jackson liked to name her children for all the
celebrities that she heard of, and sometimes
it made a bewildering combination when one
found that William Vanderbilt was represented
by a sprightly little Negro boy with crispy hair
and beadlike black eyes.
“That silver service is jes' my size," here
chimed in another sister, “an' it's goin' hard
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186
CONTENDING FORCES.
with anyone what tries to git it 'way from me;
I'm sellin' tickets to beat the ban. I've done
picked out a sideboard fer it down to Osgood's.
I can git it fer a dollar down an'a dollar a
week, an' expec' to have it ef it takes me all the
summer an' winter ter pay fer it.”
“ Talkin' 'bout the prizes, ain't yer ? " spoke
up
another sister who had just joined the group,
“thet gold watch an' chain is jes' what Jim
Anderson wants. “Jim,' I says to him, 'thar's
yer chance fer a good easy way ter git yer a
watch.' He's jes' raisin' heaven an' earth a-git-
tin' votes fer hisself.”
“ Hope you all won't be disapinted,” here
Sister Robinson broke in again, “but ef yer
listens to me you'll watch them high-toned col-
ored folks you all's been gittin' ter help yer.
They never come 'roun' people that they don't
hold on a 'quality with theirselves 'thout it
means suthin' These ejecated folks is allers
lookin' to make suthin'. Most o' them's too
lazy to wurk. They wouldn't tech a flatiron
or a washtub with a ten-foot pole, an' they'd
ruther live on dried codfish fer a month than to
do their own scrubbing. Ef eny o'them white-
folksey colored ladies gits them prizes, I'm
goin' fer to take out my letter, an' put my wurk
into some chuch what will presheate it; you
hyar me!”


THE FAIR.
187
(6
#
re
#N
d
“Now sisters,” chimed in the meek one again,
“none o' yer ain't said a word 'bout tryin' to
git one o' the prizes fer yer pastor. I do think
that's a leetle bit selfish in us. S'pose we give
him the pianny."
Hump!” grunted Sister Robinson," when
I jined this chuch I jined the meetin'-house an'
not the minister! I reckon he kin jes' look
out fer hisself; 'sides he's got a orgin an' don't
need a pianny. He gits his cellery, don't he?”
she queried, as she glared at the group about
her. Taking their silence for consent she con-
tinued in a firm voice: “He's too much every-
thin' to everybody, an' that wife o' hisn is too
white fer me. I used ter be takin' fresh eggs
an' ham an' chickuns out to that house all the
time, but resuntly I'se been reasunin' with my-
self, an' I camed to the conclusion that I won't
do it no mo'. Can't tell what is the matter with
these colored men; a good wholesome-lookin'
colored woman with kinkey hair don't stan’ no
livin' chance ter git a decen'-lookin' man fer a
husban', an' I fer one am a-settin' my face agin
them men."
Purty much so, purty much so !" came from
various ones in the group.
“Lord knows, Sis' Robberson,” said Sister
Scott,“ may be you is right; an' ef thar's eny
monkeyin' goin' on we's all goin' ter s'port yer
in whatever yer thinks is the bes' course.”
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188
CONTENDING FORCES.
“ All right,” replied Sister Robinson, consid-
crably mollified by this concession. “I'll jes'
take good care thet none o' us gits imposed on.
Phelia Davis an' Sarah Ann White has got
charge o' the 'fectionery table an' the salads,
but cf I don' knock 'em silly with roast pig,
corn dodgers an' biled cabbage, then I'm a
sinner!"
Sister Robinson walked away, followed by a
number of admiring satellites. Sister Scott
and Sister Jackson were left alone.
“Good Lawd!” said Sister Scott to Sister
Jackson, “Good Lawd! 'Mandy Jackson, did
you hear Mary Jane Robberson talk? Thar
ain't nuthin' the matter with her, only she's
'fraid thet somebody's gwine ter hol' the money-
draw fastened agin her. I tell yer them '400'
folks she's runnin' 'll keep a close watch on her
an' how much money she takes in at the 'old
Southern dinner-table,' you hyar me!”
“An' I fer one am glad of it,” replied Sister
Jackson. Mary Jane Robberson thinks she
owns this chuch an' everyone in it sence Mr.
Jacobs lef' John Robberson thet five hundred
dollars, an' they bo't thet house out o' town.”
“ Bless yer soul, honey, thet's jes' so. I never
see what a little posterity makes some people
have a swell head. I tell yer, honey, we'd bet-
ter all o' us keep our eye on the money-draw.


THE FAIR.
189
When folks gits to buyin' houses- um, chile,
watch 'em!”
On Monday evening the fair opened. At
five o'clock in the morning all the women who
could get there made their appearance at the
church, where the janitor was waiting to receive
them. The first floor of the building contained
a large lecture-room, three class-rooms, the pas-
tor's study, a dining-room and a kitchen. Each
chairman of a committee had a certain space
assigned to her by Ma Smith; then that com-
mittee took charge and proceeded to beautify
the spot and arrange their wares for inspection.
Ice cream, oysters, salads and temperance drinks
were to be served in a fairy-like grotto formed
by grouping evergreen trees together. Among
the trees small tables were to be set, making
a charming solitude à deux.
Electricity, cun-
ningly concealed in rose-colored shades, was
to furnish the lighting. Pretty girl-waiters, in
white dresses and fancy caps, completed a fas-
cinating picture. This section was under the
immediate direction of Mrs. Ophelia Davis and
Mrs. Sarah Ann White.
You hear me, Sarah Ann," said Ophelia
Davis to her friend,“ you hear me, that Mary
Jane Robberson means trouble. She's down
on the aristocracy; she don't 'tend to give the
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CONTENDING FORCES.
minister a show over them prizes, an' you an'
me's got to keep a whip han' over her some-
how. The minister's goin' to git a new suit
o'clo's out o' this, an' you an'me's gwine
to have thet pianny! Lord knows whether
there'll be one brick o'this chuch lef' on another
when this fair is done, but she ain't gwine ter
walk on me, you hyar me. I'm a-studyin' fer
her, an'ef she runs up agin me thar'll be
trouble."
Meanwhile Mrs. Robinson and her coterie
stood around and looked at the unique ideas
for a fair which had been developed, and won-
dered how it was that the “400” people and
their followers always had such a happy knack
of getting everything just right. Her commit-
tee had intended to have nothing but a plain
dining-room, but after seeing the gorgeous dis-
play made by Mrs. Davis and Mrs. White, a
hurried meeting was called to consult about
ways and means of defeating the enemy. All
the other women stopped their work, too, and
came to admire the effects gained by the intro-
duction of the lights and the tête-à-tête tables.
“A very happy thought,” said Mrs. Willis, as
she glanced approvingly about her. “Where
did you get the idea ? ”
“I got it up to Mis' Mason's when Molly
Mason was merried.”


THE FAIR.
191
66
“That's where you lived so long, wasn't it,
Mrs. Davis ?” asked one of the girls, as she
paused a moment in her work of arranging
festoons of evergreens, and stood back to note
the effect.
“I lived there an' nowhere else the first fif-
teen years I was up North,” replied Mrs. Davis
proudly.
“ Were they very wealthy? Do you ever see
them nowadays ? ” asked Mrs. Willis.
“Mis' Mason was wurth her millions, an'
Molly was her only chile,” replied Mrs. Davis,
now fairly launched on her favorite subject.
The Mason wedding” had passed into a
proverb among the young people who were
acquainted with Mrs. Davis. “You see, when
Molly was merried, Mis' Mason took it into
her head to have a caterer from Boston do the
work of feeding the guests. She was livin'in
Worcester then. Even the servants were in-
vited to the weddin'. She had a house that
matched her money, you may jes' reckon, and
the whole o her lawn was used fer feeding
an' fer dancin'. There were two acres o' lan'
nuthin' but lawn, an' all among the trees you
could see little tables set out an' plenty o'lan-
terns, although in the dancin' pavilion they jes'
connected a gas-pipe with the main one, an'
had the place lit with gas jes' as ef you was in
the house."
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CONTENDING FORCES.
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ܬܵܐ
1.
“You ought to ask them to contribute to
the fair, and help you out with your table,”
remarked Mrs. Willis,
Mrs. Davis cocked her head on one side and
said, with a knowing wink at Mrs. Willis:
“Now, ain't yer talkin', honey, an' mebe I ain't
writ to her an' tol' her all 'bout Mary Jane Rob-
berson! Jes' yer hol' on, chile, tell yer sees me
paralyze her.”
“Did you go to the wedding, Mrs. Davis ?”
asked Sappho, who, being something of a
stranger, did not know all the little points
about the wedding.
" Who, me ? " exclaimed Mrs. Davis; “yes'm,
I jes' did! Lor', chile, but Mis’ Mason's a lady
borned; she don't know how to be like some
o' yer Northern people. Sho! these ladies up
here are so 'fraid thet the black 'll rub off. Down
South the big white folks has nussed so meny
black mammies thet they don' know nuthin'
else fer their chillun. It don' matter how black
you is ef yer willin' to keep in the mud. Up
here it's diffurunt; you can do all right and
live all right, but don't put yer han' on a white
man or woman, or they 'll have a fit fer fear the
black 'll rub off."
I
suppose you went to the wedding dressed
to kill,” said one of the girls.
“Lor', chile, I had to have a new light silk
1
lim
18


THE FAIR.
193
'levens, an' I didn't want ter insult yer.' 'Insult linn
fer that, I tell yer. An' sech a time as I had
when I went to git me a pair o' paten' leather
shoes. Clorindy, gal,” she called to a young
woman who was placing trees in position, “what
kin' o' way do you call that to put them trees?
You ain't got a bit o' eye fer bein' an artis',
your ferpendicler is all crooked. Bring me a
cheer thar, some one o' you gals, and let me fix
thet tree right.” Having straightened out the
matter of the trees, she returned panting and
puffing to the refreshment bar.
As I was
sayin', the man said he didn't hev a shoe in the
shop thet would fit me. I tol' him I knowed
better; he jes' said thet 'cause I was a colored
'ooman. Then he went to the show-window
and took out a pair, an' tol' me to set down an'
he'd try 'em on me an' see ef they'd do, an’ ef
they would I might have 'em, an'he'd git another
pair thet 'd do fer signs jes' as well as them. I
tol' him I didn't care a bit ef they was signs;
why didn't he trot 'em out when I asked him
fer 'em fust? 'Well,' he says, 'they's number
SHIMHÄNT AHOIU IM In uimmanin
nuthin',' says I,' as long as I can git 'em on.'
They fitted me all right, only they kin' o'
cramped me across my bunyon. I always has
a hard time with that dratted bunyon o'mine.
I managed to wear 'em, though I'm free to say
thet i never felt as though I got my muney out


194
CONTENDING FORCES.
11
o' the plagy things. As I was sayin', I was
cook, an' the second girl was colored, too; we
jes' hired an open barush to drive to the chuch
in – I b'lieve in doin' things right - an' I tell
you the white folks was dumb when we druve
up that night to the chuch do' an' stepped out
o'the kerrige onto the strip o' carpet under the
yawnin', fer all the worl' jes' like quality. We
got 'long all right tell we struck the entry, then
Sally kin' o' hung back when she saw a big
usher lookin' fer all the worl' like a picter-book,
standin' ther an' tellin' us to wait our turn to
be seated in the fambly pew. Yes, 'ndeed !
Bless yer soul, Mis' Mason had done put us
into one o' the fambly pews! I'm used to them
sort o' things myself, but yer see, Sally she's
kin' o' low-down corn-shucker, not used to
nothin' 'tall, an' I kep' my eye onto her; I could
see it inter her face thet she intended to give
me the slip an' bolt an' hide herself. Oh, Mis'
Davis,' says she, 'has we got to walk all the
way up thet aisle with one o' them white
gemplemen?' 'Yes, Sally, we has, an' it won't
kill us nuther to be like live gentry fer onct in
our lives.' Jes' then one o' them made fer me,
an' I only had time to whisper: ‘Brace up,
Sally, an' be a 'ooman,' when I foun' myself
walkin' up the aisle on thet white man's arm,
as big as Cuffy, an'a-sweatin' to beat the ban','


THE FAIR.
195
What became of Sally? " asked Sappho.
Bless yer soul, Miss Sappho, when she
sawed me go she jes' broke an' run down them
steps plum inter the street, an' made tracks fer
the house all dressed as she was in white shef-
ong, an' when I got back thar she was a-standin'
up in the middle o' the kitchen floor grinnin'
like a Chessy cat. * Mis' Davis,' says she, ‘Mis'
Davis, I wouldn't a-walked up thet chuch aisle
with thet white gempleman fer a thousan' dol-
lars, 'deed'n I wouldn't.' I was so mad with
thet fool gal thet I jes' itched ter spank her
well. How we to 'vance eny ef we don't 'brace
our 'tunities, I'd like ter know?”
All the committees worked willingly, and
soon every one of the departments had been
provided with appropriate enclosures like quaint
pictures set in exquisite frames. The bare
walls disappeared, and the whole place burst
into beauty bewildering enough to draw the
money from the pockets of the spectators who
would come with the evening to help a worthy
charity. Mrs. Robinson, with her "old-fashioned
busy bees," as they called themselves, had hur-
riedly decorated the dining-room with American
flags and Christian Endeavor banners. The
long, white-covered tables looked very inviting,
and the motherly women in black dresses, white
aprons and bandanna handkerchiefs tied into
Sawan ingin Tinnin m


196
CONTENDING FORCES.
fantastic head-coverings, added another charm
which their soft Southern accent completed.
Late in the afternoon the tired workers exam-
ined the results of their labors with much
satisfaction.
12
13
1


THE FAIR COXCLUDED.
197
CHAPTER XI.
THE FAIR.- Concluded.
In feasts maturing busy hands appear,
And jest and laugh assail the ready ear.”
On Monday evening at 7 P.M. the doors of
the fair were opened. In the center of the hall
the prize piano was advantageously placed;
and Dora, as the organist of the church, dis-
played its merits in a few well-chosen numbers.
There were selections given also by a banjo,
guitar and mandolin club of local reputation.
Cozily ensconced behind a bower of tropical
plants and flowers they discoursed popular
selections in a manner which displayed most
favorably the really fine musical ability which
each one of them possessed. In another cor-
ner of the hall, under a tent which represented
an Indian lodge, was a great and mysterious
attraction: Madam Frances, spiritualistic sooth-
sayer and marvellous mind-reader, had offered
her services to the committee, and would send
out bulletins, at so much a letter, on subjects
supposed to be unknown to all the world but
the persons themselves. The young people
were in a futter over this particular feature, the
men no less so than the women. Who could
Sixuân AIHOIUOU in !!
Itin ans


THE FAIR CONCLUDED.
199
Hwan AIHDUONIA
spells and charms being put upon unpleasant
neighbors; wonderful stories of lizards being
taken from the leg or arm of an enemy, placed
there by the arts of the voodoo doctor and
cured by the same gifted party. But if we no-
tice, these wonderful and terrorizing acts were
never perpetrated against the inhuman master
or mistress of the isolated plantation, never
upon enemies wearing a white skin, but always
upon the humble associate and brother in bond-
age. Be these things true or false, the Negro
no longer holds the distinction of being the only
race that believes in the pretensions of those
who claim to be able to look into the future
with mesmerized sight favored by hidden pow-
ers, that have a knowledge of coming events.
In these days of palmistry, phrenology, card-
reading, mind-reading, lucky pigs, rabbit's feet
worn on the watch-chain for luck, and four-
leaved clover encased in crystal and silver for
the same reason, who shall say that the Negro
has not lost his monopoly of one great racial
characteristic?
Madam Frances was supposed to be skilled
in the occult arts which were once the glory
of the freshly imported African. Wonderful
tales were told of her ability to foretell the
future. Her services were of great value to
the managers of the fair, for her fame had been
in


200
CONTENDING FORCES.
rumored abroad, through the members of the
church, and it was popularly reported that some
of the richest people in the city would visit the
fair, if for nothing but to test the ability of this
woman. And as one gazed upon her he might
be pardoned for thinking that within that dark
house, moulded upon symmetrical lines, and
appearing as though cut from purest ebony,
albeit somewhat thin and spare, as became one
past the meridian of life and now upon the
road leading downward into the shadows of
the last valley through which we must pass on
our outward journey toward the spheres of
celestial light, dwelt a rare mind. How did
she look ?
“I knew a princess; she was old,
Crisp-haired, flat-featured, with a look
Such as no dainty pen of gold
Would write of in a fairy book.
Her face was like the Sphinx's face, to me,
Touched with vast patience, desert grace,
And lonesome, brooding mystery.
Nothing of loveliest loveliness
This strange, sad princess seemed to lack;
Majestic with her calm distress
She was, and beautiful, though black.”


THE FAIR CONCLUDED.
201
A quaint conceit which gave great pleasure
to the children, big and little, was the pretty
great-nephew of the seeress who, dressed in
costume, represented Mercury and carried mes-
sages to the fortunate ones remembered by the
mystic powers of Futurity. Alphonse was a
beautiful boy about eight years old, with golden
curls and dark blue eyes that looked out on
life, from beneath their sweeping lashes with a
glance all too melancholy for one of his tender
years. There are children who seem to have
been born with the shadows of life heavy upon
them. So it was with little Alphonse. He
passed from groups of merry young people and
pleasant elders who, attracted by the beauty of
the weird child, sought to beguile him with soft
caress and loving touch; he would stand quietly
waiting until the speaker had finished his ques-
tion, would answer carefully, and suffer the
caresses as though accepting them as a part of
his duty, and would return to the tent and his
aunt, evincing no desire for the frolic and fun
which belongs to the golden days of childhood.
Many influential whites were present in order
to display their philanthropic interest in the
welfare of the colored people. They gazed
with surprise upon the child, and could not be
convinced when told that he was a Negro, and
identified by ties of blood with the blackest
vi MUI NUMIT LIDRARIO:


202
CONTENDIXG FORCES.
men and women in the crowded company.
In a distant corner Sappho sat keeping a strict
account of the moneys received. Occasionally
she would leave her seat and mingle with the
crowd. Gowned in a pure white china silk
with a bunch of her favorite Jacks in her
corsage, she moved “a daughter of the gods
divinely fair." And many a thought came into
the heart of one learned doctor as he gazed on
the child and the beautiful girl, and then upon
faces ebony-hued but bright and sparkling with
the light of freedom and intelligence. In that
moment a cloud passed from before his mental
vision, and he beheld in all its hideousness the
can kering sore which is eating into the heart
of republican principles and stamping the lie
upon the Constitution. Expediency and right
must go hand in hand. There is no room for
compromise.
Sappho was tired, and one of the young girls
in her Bible class, noticing the weariness of her
attitude, insisted upon assuming the duties of
cashier for an hour. She gladly availed herself
of the girl's offer, and turned with a sigh of
relief to find a secluded seat where she could
watch unobserved the passing of the gay throng.
As she turned a hand was laid gently on her
arm, and Will Smith's gay voice sounded in
her ear: “Whither away, fair lady?”


THE FAIR CONCLUDED.
203
WIRVINUM LDR
Sappho smiled back into the debonair face
as she replied : “ Just to the fairy grotto to rest
a while.”.
“I will accompany thee, fair queen,” hummed
Will, as he drew her hand within his arm and
moved slowly through the crowd toward the
refreshment room. No more was said until
they reached the spot; then Will seated her
at one of the most secluded tables, placing him-
self upon the opposite side.
“Lord love yer, Sarah Ann, jes' see that
couple !” said Mrs. Davis to Mrs. White. “Ef
that ain't a match then no matter! See him
look at her! I'se goin' to wait on them myself;
an’ Sarah Ann, you keep these young squirts
busy in some other corner; there ain't nobody
goin' ter spile sport ef I can help it.”
Mrs. Davis bustled over to the young people
and literally beamed upon them. “Good even-
ing; now Mr. Smith, what be you an' Miss
Sappho goin' to have? You see I've jes' camed
over to wait on yer myself.”
Good evening, Mrs. Davis; you are looking
as bright and charming as a rose.
How are
the refreshments going?
“ Charmin'!” responded Mrs. Davis, secretly
delighted at the compliment.
'shamed to talk like that to an oľ' 'ooman ?
You young fellers gits worse every day. Jes'
" Ain't you


204
CONTENDING FORCES.
see Miss Sappho lafin' at you! Well, thank
God, we's doin' well tonight, took in a pile o'
money so fur. Mary Jane Robberson thinks
she's goin' to down me in this here refreshment
room, but jes' you wait 'tel Friday night!”
“What about Friday night?" asked Sappho.
“Nuthin', only I've got a big s'prise waitin'
fer Mary Jane Robberson.”
“ Friday will be a mighty unlucky day for
Sister Robinson, eh?” laughed Will.
“Thar won't be a thing doin' fer her, honey,
you'll see. I'se gwine ter paralize her!”
“ I'll bet my money on you every time, Mrs.
Davis,” laughed Will. “I have every confidence
in your business sagacity. I feel sorry for
Sister Robinson."
“She'll need yer sorrow,” replied Mrs. Davis.
Mary Jane Robberson's jealous, an' when
people gits jealous they can't do the bes' thing
in the bes' place. I ain't jealous o' nobody, an'
l'se jes' settin' back here watchin' her kill her-
sef, as cool as a sittin' hen. I had a letter from
Mis’ Mason, an' she says as how she's goin' ter
stan' by me. You know what that means, don'
yer, honey? Oysters, coffee, ice cream and
cake fer two," she murmured, repeating Will's
order. “My head's level, thar ain't a thing the
matter with it," she finished, as she turned to
execute the order.
66


THE FAIR CONCLUDED.
205
HIVI TUnit LUNA
A silence fell between the two as they sat
within the shadow of the trees, content to be
with each other. Will was happy to have the
privilege of feasting his eyes upon the lovely
face opposite him, which dimpled and blushed
in such a charming manner beneath his glance.
Never before had she seemed to abandon her-
self so completely to the influence of his pas-
sion; but tonight she laid aside her coldness
and seemed ready to accept the homage which
he was longing to lay at her feet. The girl
felt it.
“Why,” she asked herself, “why should I
always walk in the shadow of a crime for which
I am in no way to blame? Why deny myself
all the pleasures of a home and love with such
a man as he who will offer me the noblest herit-
age of woman?”
The more she thought the stronger became
her resolve not to fight against fate, but to
accept the goods the gods provided without
question. She would rise above maddening
fears, penance for involuntary wrongs, the sack-
cloth and ashes of her life, and be as other
women, who loved and were beloved. So she
smiled on Will bewitchingly; sallies of wit and
fun flashed from her pretty lips in a way
which was as fascinating as bewildering. Will
knew her to be well educated, but had never
in


THE FAIR CONCLUDED.
207
66
John Langley has acted tonight, I'd stay at
home.”
“Do you remember how his message read?”
asked her brother.
“Yes,” said Dora, “it was something like
this: “He who expects gain shall lose. Be
faithful to the object of your choice, or merit
the fate reserved for fickleness and deceit.''
Can't blame him for feeling wrathy over
such a fortune as that, can you, Lewis ? ” asked
Will, turning to his sister's companion.
Gad, no!” replied the doctor. “If he would
only prove unfaithful to the object of his
choice' how happy some other fellow might
be.”
Dora looked at her companion with scorn
on her countenance. “I just think I hate you
sometimes, Arthur Lewis !” she exclaimed, as
she turned to leave the room.
“Oh, I say, Dora, do have something before
you go,” urged the unlucky fellow, as he fol-
lowed his angry companion toward the door.
"No, I won't have anything. I do believe
you just love to see John Langley quarrel with
me, but it won't do you a bit of good, Arthur
Lewis, not a bit."
As they vanished from sight Will turned to
Sappho and said: “Dora and John worry me,
Miss Clark; I fear that there is trouble ahead


208
CONTENDING FORCES.
66
for my little sister if she marries him, and I
could find it in my heart to wish that her
choice had fallen on Lewis. He is a thor-
oughly good and capable man, and loves the
girl devotedly."
“Let us hope that all things may turn out for
the best,” replied Sappho.
"I don't know why I should worry you with
this, Miss Clark,” said Will, as he turned toward
her with a light in his eyes which a man gives
to but one woman in the world. “Miss Clark
- Sappho -
Ah, here you are.” This time it was John
Langley who had broken in upon the lovers.
He came up to them smiling, polished, bland.
Sappho wondered why she had never noticed
how very disagreeable John Langley's smile
was. She shuddered a bit as he drew nearer to
them. Behind him walked the little Mercury,
and in his hand he held a white missive just
drawn from the small black velvet bag which
hung at his side.
Mercury wanted to find you, Miss Clark,
and as I had a message for you from your
mother, Will, I ventured to interrupt your ear-
nest conversation. I hope I don't intrude.
He bowed with easy grace to Sappho and bade
her good evening, at the same time taking the
chair which will vacated as he rose to go to
his mother,


THE FAIR CONCLUDED.
209
“Thank you, John. No, you do not intrude.
Miss Clark, I shall see you again shortly, I
hope. I would very much like to finish our
conversation.”
Sappho bowed and he turned away. She
followed the retreating figure with her eyes;
John watched her jealously, and the child stood
and watched them both. Finally with a sigh
she opened the note, but before reading it
turned to murmur a gentle apology to Langley.
“Oh, never mind me," he returned pleas-
antly; "if you get such a mongrel mixture as
the one sent to me, I shan't envy you the pleas-
ure you'll get out of it.”
" It wasn't pleasant, I remember. Dora told
us about it.”
Pleasant ! A regular death's head at a
feast, I call it. Do read yours, Miss Clark, and
see if you haven't something better.”
“Let me see: The mysterious stars bespeak
for you better luck than you have already had.
Harassed and perplexed by fickle Fortune, love
shall find a way.
“ Bravo !” cried John. But how could it be
otherwise? If the same blood which inaugu-
rated the Trojan wars, of which fair Helen was
the object, still runs in the veins of the gods of
love and fortune, they could not resist the in-
fluence of so much youth and beauty as we are
blessed with here tonight.”


210
CONTENDING FORCES.
And what shall I say in reply to so gallant
a speech, Mr. Langley? To my way of think-
ing, such words should be uttered to one alone.
You must have forgotten Dora.” Sappho
turned to the waiting child and drew him into
her lap.
Because a man is engaged to one girl does
that spoil all the pleasure which lies in meet-
ing others? One woman can never tie my
wandering fancy; my heart is large enough to
appreciate the charms of the fair sex wherever
discovered. Dora don't like it, I know, but
she'll get used to it after we are married,” he
said, recklessly.
Sappho kissed the child on her lap, and plac-
ing the postage for her letter in his hand, told
him to run away. “Truly, Mr. Langley, you
appear in a new light. Why do you tell your
thoughts to me, who am Dora's friend? I do
not wish to hear them."
There was a mocking smile on his face as
he turned to her from watching the child. * Α
pretty boy that. His is beauty of a rare kind.
Do you know, I fancy that he resembles you.”
Really, Mr. Langley, you grow very strange
in your conversation. I shall have to beg you
to excuse me,” and with a haughty little bow
she left the place:
John watched her departure with a slight


THE FAIR CONCLUDED.
211
smile on his face. “Oh, beauty is the wine of
life, fair woman, for me," he hummed beneath
his moustache. The smile was still on his face
as he ordered a cup of coffee and proceeded to
drink it leisurely.
The fair had been very popular, and most
successful from a business point of view. The
week was now drawing to a close. The com-
munity was on the qui vive over the rivalry
between Mrs. Robinson and Mrs. Davis. Racy
developments were looked for on the closing
night. Every woman had ranged herself on
one side or the other, and not a few of the men
had been led by their vigorous wives to declare
themselves for a chosen leader.
Friday night was to end the sale of votes on
the prizes. Saturday was to be devoted to
counting up the votes, so that at nine o'clock
that night the successful winners could be an-
nounced. The pastor was asked to allow the
fair to run another week, but he declined em-
phatically, saying that so many controversies
had grown out of it that another week would
seriously deplete his membership and bring
disaster upon the cause of religion. So that
idea was abandoned. Wednesday Mrs. Robin-
son was ahead on the piano but behind on the
dining-room receipts. Thursday night Mrs.


212
CONTENDING FORCES.
Davis was ahead on the piano but behind on
the receipts in the refreshment room. So luck
Auctuated until the rivals found themselves
neck and neck, so to speak, at eight o'clock on
Friday night. Anyone who had watched Mrs.
Robinson would have noticed that her face
wore a satisfied smirk which told that she
anticipated an easy victory, and the knowing
ones of her satellites told each other that “Sis'
Robberson was all right.”
Mrs. Davis viewed the action of her rival
with stolid countenance, from which the envoys
of the other side, who stood about trying to
catch a word to repeat to their champion, could
gain no comfort. To her trusted henchmen
she whispered : “ Jes' you watch me keep 'em
guessin' I'm a-goin' to show 'em, shortly, that
the 'race am not to the swif'er nor the battle to
the stron'er, but to her what enjureth untel the
end.'”
As half-past seven approached various savory
smells could be traced to the "old Southern
dining-room,” but above all the enticing scents
which were ever introduced to aggravate the
palate of the lover of good living, the knowing
ones could trace the odor of a rare and tempt-
ing dainty — the opossum! Yes, Mrs. Robinson
had conspired with her Southern friends and
received a tempting animal direct from the


THE FAIR CONCLUDED.
213
"Old Dominion," and on this eventful night she
stood in the middle of the dining-room trium-
phantly directing the placing of the dish upon
the main table, which was carefully arranged
with covers laid for twenty-five persons. The
ordinary patrons of the room were turned from
the door, and even the pastor was not allowed
to enter, being told that the dining-room had
been engaged for an hour by a private party.
At eight o'clock a message was brought to her
by a lad stationed at the outside entrance to the
vestry, and Mrs. Robinson immediately hurried
to the door to receive a sleigh-load of young
white ladies and gentlemen who had come from
among the wealthy people of the city, for whom
Mrs. Robinson was a faithful servant, to help
her triumph over her enemies. With head
thrown back and held very high, and satisfac-
tion beaming from her countenance, the good
sister marched in at the head of the company
like a successful warrior on his return from
victory. The assembled company made way,
gazing with awe upon so many representatives
of wealth and influence. Then they were lost
within the sacred precincts of the dining-room,
into which Mrs. Robinson ushered them. The
pastor was sent for presently, and attended by
the most prominent trustee on the Board, he
waited upon the guests who had so honored his
bil Mein
$24.my


THE FAIR CONCLUDED.
215
oughly angry.
' You-alls havin' yer hallelujah
meetin' too soon. Don' holler 'tell yer knows
what yer hollerin' 'bout. I ain't beat tell nine
o'clock sharp, when the polls is closed.”
“Five minutes is all you's got, anyhow.
Can't change much in five minutes,” laughed
another.
Just at this moment a messenger boy made
his way from the door and was conducted to
the judges' seat. He handed them an envelope
which upon being opened was seen to contain
two bits of paper.
" Please step this way, Mrs. Davis, and make
your mark for value received,” called out one
of the judges.
Mrs. Davis was escorted to the table by a
curious crowd, anxious to know the meaning of
this latest sensation. The judge stood up after
she had signed, and said: “ Ladies and gentle-
men, knowing the interest that you take in all
that relates to the two ladies who are rival
candidates for the piano, and also for the ten
dollars for the largest amount taken at a re-
freshment table, I beg leave to state that one
hundred and fifty dollars have been contributed
by Mrs. Mason and Mrs. Molly Mason Farn-
ham, to be used for buying votes in the favor
of Mrs. Davis in the contest for the piano, and
to swell the receipts at her refreshment tables.


216
CONTENDING FORCES.
As I hold my watch in my hand it is now one
minute of the closing hour of the polls. Any
more votes?” He paused and looked around.
“No more? then I have the honor of informing
you that the polls are closed. No more tickets
can be bought, and I may as well say right here
that Sister Davis will have the most votes ;
she'll stand at least five hundred ahead. Now
I propose that we give
that we give three cheers for Sister
Davis."
And they were given with a will, led by the
pastor, who stood upon a chair and swung his
bandanna handkerchief wildly in the air.
Mrs. Davis was greatly excited. “Sis' Rob-
berson's got me, has she? Beat, am I? How
'bout it, honeys, how 'bout it?”
Sister Mary Jane Robinson was carried home
sick in a herdic.
The next night brought a great crowd to see
the distribution of the prizes. The fun waxed
warmer and warmer as each name was called.
When young 'Mandy Jackson was called to
receive the diamond pin, her twin brothers
turned handsprings in the aisle, and yelled out:
“Hi, 'Mandy, yer a peach! We-uns did the bis-
ness fer yer, yer bet.”
Sister Susanna Johnson received the much-
coveted silver set, and thought with pride of the
handsome sideboard, and made up her mind
アーク
​


THE FAIR CONCLUDED.
217
then and there to give the Stewardess Board
such a tea as they had not had for many a day,
before another week rolled over her head.
Jim Anderson walked up to the judges' stand
feeling very bashful and with a fearful grin on
his face, when his name was called for the gold
watch and chain.
“Wet it, Jim! wet it!” cried one of his
friends.
"Set 'em up, ol' man!” roared another, as
Jim returned to his seat. “ Don't be 'shamed;
do the right thing by the boys."
Jim Anderson was angry. He was a trustee,
and was looked up to by all the young members
as an exemplary Christian. Jim made up his
mind not to stand it, and he paused on the way
to his seat and offered to take the speaker and
set him up” by standing him on his head if
he'd only come out where he could get at him,
“makin' a fool o' him right out in chuch.”
This stopped the fun in that direction, for
Jim was a beef-lugger at the "big" market, and
they had a wholesome regard for his muscle.
But when Mrs. Davis was called for the piano
and the ten dollars, the excitement broke out
with renewed vigor: "Speech! speech!” re-
sounded from all over the hall.
“You must say a word to your friends, sister,"
said the pastor. Then she stood up.


218
CONTENDING FORCES.
Will you
“Friends, I'm much oblivigated to yer fer
makin' all this noise over me, but bein' a lone-
some ol' 'ooman, an' with no ejkation, I cayn't
make no speech. I'll jes' say thar's nuthin'
mean 'bout me. I don' feel good 'cause some
o'us is took sick 'long o'all this. Now, pastor,
I want yer to take this ten dollars over to Sis'
Robberson an' tell her we's quits, an' I fergive
her fer all her mean feelin's to me.
do it?"
The pastor promised, and for a while pande-
monium reigned. And after that the pastor
could not forbear saying a few words about
how good it was “to dwell together in brotherly
love." Sister Sarah Ann White said “the
brothers had nuthin' to do with it, it was Ophelia
Davis an' nobody else."
Mrs. Davis, true to her word, had not for-
gotten the pastor; and all the women, mindful
of the feeling engendered by Mrs. Robinson
against him, had secretly gone about among
the “400," and money enough had been con-
tributed to buy him a fine new Sunday suit,
made up in the latest clerical fashion. After
all the prizes had been presented, the women
formed in a body, and headed by Ma Smith,
marched up to the judges' seats and presented
him with the result of their good feelings. So
everybody was made happy.


THE FAIR CONCLUDED.
219
It was estimated that the proceeds of the
fair exceeded the eight thousand dollars hoped
for, and no church had more sincere cause to
rejoice on the next Easter Sunday than the
body of people comprising the church on X
Street, who on that memorable day consecrated
anew to God their house of worship free from
all encumbrances,


220
CONTENDING FORCES.
CHAPTER XII.
A COLORED POLITICIAN.
O, that estates, degrees and offices
Were not derived corruptly, and that clear honor
Were purchased by the merit of the wearer!
How many then should cover that stand bare !
How many be commanded that command !
MERCHANT OF VENICE.
JOHN LANGLEY occupied an office in the busi-
ness portion of the city among the most reliable
lawyers in the profession. He held that asso-
ciation with success would in the end bring
the desired quality to any one.
He had never
been moved by a generous heart-impulse in his
whole life. Actual need found no pity dwell-
ing in his breast. The comfortable home
which the thrift of Smith had founded and the
industry of the family had fostered to pros-
perity, influenced his devotion to Dora to an
extent which if realized by her would have
led to his instant dismissal by that impetuous
young lady. According to his way of thinking,
the wife ought to contribute as much to the
expenses of the household, by having a com-
fortable nest-egg before marriage, as the hus-
band. He listened to the romantic story of
the Montfort family with eagerness, and while


A COLORED POLITICIAN.
221
regarding it as a fanciful creation of the mind,
yet he felt that he must look it up and be very
sure that a dollar could not be gained from it,
before he marked it in his mind as valueless.
He meditated on the subject constantly, but
with the shrewdness characteristic of his
nature, carefully concealed his thoughts from
every one. He had no idea where he should
begin to unravel this great mystery of family
connections lost within the fog-banks of life in
London, but he intended to try.
Langley's nature was the natural product of
such an institution as slavery. Natural in- .
stinct for good had been perverted by a mixture
of "cracker" blood of the lowest type on his
father's side with whatever God-saving quality
that might have been loaned the Negro by
pitying nature. This blood, while it gave him
the pleasant features of the Caucasian race,
vitiated his moral nature and left it stranded
high and dry on the shore of blind ignorance,
and there he seemed content to dwell, supinely
self-satisfied with the narrow boundary of the
horizon of his mental vision.
He remembered little of his parentage, but
what had most impressed him was that some-
where in the dim past a woman, presumably
his mother, had boasted that through her he
was a direct descendant of the North Carolina


222
CONTENDING FORCES.
Pollocks. So he clung to the name, and called
himself John Pollock Langley. Neither the
Smiths nor he connected his name in any
way with the Montfort story; it was a mere
coincidence.
If taken in his first state, fresh from the
woods and streams of his nativity, the Negro
be subjected to the saving influences of the
Christian home where freedom and happiness,
education and morality abound, the Anglo-
Saxon would lose the main arguments which
he uses against the black brother; rather would
he bow humbly in recognition of the ebony-
hued miniature of God. Subject the Anglo-
Saxon to the whip and scourge, grind the iron
heel of oppression in his face until all resem-
blance to the human family is lost in the
degradation of the brute, take from wives and
mothers the sacredness and protection of home
in the time before birth, when moral and intel-
lectual development are most dependent upon
pre-natal influences for the advancement of
generations to come; join to all this the un-
controlled bestial passions of humanity, and
what have you? classic features and a godlike
mind ? No! rather the lineaments of hideous
despair, fearful and hopeless as the angel forms
that fell from heaven to the black gulf of
impenetrable hell.


224
CONTENDING FORCES.
cries of agony. We think the Negroes of this section have
been taught a salutary lesson.- Torchlight.
The American Colored League was made up
of leading colored men all over New England.
These men were in communication with the
colored people in every section of the country,
for there is no community of colored people
so remote that a branch of the great National
League of American Colored Men cannot be
found within easy reach of all. To the Boston
branch of this society the people of all sections
of the country look for aid and comfort, not
because of any acknowledged superiority of its
members, but solely on account of the advan-
tages which they are supposed to enjoy under
the beneficent rulings of the grand old Com-
monwealtḥ of Massachusetts. We do not
claim for Massachusetts, in her policy toward
the Negroes within her gates, freedom from
prejudice or error. There is prejudice enough,
heaven knows, prejudice which is fed every day
by fresh arrivals from the South and by inter-
marriage between Southern women and the
sons of Massachusetts. But Massachusetts is
noted for being willing to see fair play: she
hears the complaints of the Negro, and listens
with attention to the accusations of the South-
ern whites, weighs the one against the other,
and, naturally enough, the scales tip in favor
d


226
CONTENDING FORCES.
when they waited on him and asked him to
give the office work to two worthy representa-
tives of their race, and pointed out to him that
it was his duty so to do as a leading man of
influence among them. Some of the commit-
tee were unkind enough to say that they be-
lieved that Langley was as prejudiced toward
black people as any Anglo-Saxon ; but as he
denied it most emphatically, there was nothing
more to be said about the matter, though many
colored men voted him a “sneak” in private,
and had a watchful eye on all his movements.
Usually John had no difficulty in fixing his
attention on the humdrum routine of the office,
but today his thoughts wandered. Sappho
Clark had touched a vein in his nature which
was a revelation to himself. Sensuality was
prominent in the phrenological development
of his head, although no one of his associates
would have called him a libertine. Neverthe-
less, there it lurked ready to assert itself when
conditions were ripe to call it into action. Sap-
pho represented the necessary conditions. Her
beauty intoxicated him; her friendlessness did
not appeal to his manliness, because, as we have
intimated, that was an unknown quality in the
makeup of this man. Her coldness urged him
on; and Jealousy, the argus-eyed attendant
of Love, and its counterfeit - Infatuation


A COLORED POLITICIAN.
227
warned him that Will's love was returned, and
made him impatient to force upon her an
acceptance of his own devotion, at whatever
cost. He did not contemplate marriage, be-
cause he intended to marry Dora for mercenary
reasons. But to his mind that was no obstacle
to the consummation and lifelong duration of
an illicit love. He had detected in Sappho's
personality a coldness more in accordance with
the disposition of women of the North than
with that of one born beneath the smiling skies
of the languorous Southland. Where, with
such a face and complexion, had she imbibed
a moral character so strong and self-reliant as
her conduct had shown her to possess ? Not
by inheritance, if he read the signs aright.
Then, he argued, if she had acquired that stately,
cold, dispassionate bearing by force of habit
only, the time would surely come when unex-
pectedly the true nature would reassert itself.
Ah, he could wait! Meantime he could watch
for opportunities to coax the unwilling bird
within the net.
"Gentleman to see you, sir,” announced the
office boy, laying a card on the table before
him. Langley glanced at the card and then
said: "Show the gentleman in, and remember
I'm 'engaged' to anyone who calls while he is
here.” As the boy left the room he thought


228
CONTENDING FORCES.
to himself: “I wonder what brings the Hon.
Herbert Clapp here today. Something un-
common, I warrant."
Langley arose to receive his visitor with an
easy grace which was a distinguishing point in
his personality. Men would tell you privately
keen, far-sighted politicians — that they be-
lieved Langley to be “tricky,” but that he had
such a pleasant way with him that you would
give in to him when you knew, within your own
mind, that he would “do" you out of a case in
court or a hundred dollars with the suavity of a
Lord Chesterfield; or as one politician expressed
it: “ He has such a d oily way with him that
a man forgets to 'fire' him until it is too late.”
He received his guest with empressement, bade
him good-morning in a cordial voice, seated
him in the easiest chair which the cozy office
contained, and, before his hat had fairly reached
a resting-place, had produced a box of fine
cigars, and made him comfortable.
Deuced pleasant office you have here,
Langley,” remarked the visitor as he lit a fra-
grant Havana and proceeded to enjoy himself
man-fashion.
“Oh, it isn't bad,” replied Langley, “though
if my practice allowed it I would be glad to take
more commodious quarters." John had helped
himself to a cigar, and was now contemplating


A COLORED POLITICIAN.
229
the ceiling through rings of curling smoke.
Apparently he watched a belated fly trail its
body slowly over the white space, but really
his mind was alert and watchful to find a clue
as to the nature of the business which had
caused this man to call upon him. Mr. Clapp
had visited him twice before since he had been
in business, and each time his call had brought
substantial profit, in a political way, to his little
bank account.
“Horrible thing, this latest case of lynching,"
Mr. Clapp remarked after an interval of silent
enjoyment.
Yes," replied John, “pretty bad. Isn't it
most time for the Administration to take it up?
You can't expect us to stand this sort of thing
always, and not strike back.”
"What'd you gain by doing that?” ques-
tioned Mr. Clapp.
“I'll tell you,” replied John, looking earnestly
at his visitor, “ there are thirty-five thousand of
us in this state alone. We can be organized,
if the work is done by the right ones and in the
right way. We can help start a new party, if
nothing more.”
"That won't do any good, John, we can down
you. Colored people won't stick together; and
then where'd you be?”
“We'd stick all right if once we got started,"
returned John doggedly.


230
CONTENDING FORCES.
“No you wouldn't; you're so confoundedly
jealous of honors. Each one of you wants all
there is for himself, and you never know when
to get off, individually. We white men know
this, and it is easy to upset your plans.”
“I know that there is a great deal of truth in
what you say, but that won't always be the case
with us; we are growing away from it more and
more every day; and with the missionary work
that the League is doing, we expect to fight
you one of these days, and knock the party
clear over the ropes.
“You'll never do it!" declared Mr. Clapp.
“ Time will tell You don't expect to suc-
ceed in keeping us out of employment, shoved
in a corner to starve and to be burnt alive, with-
out getting square sometime, do you? There
would be some satisfaction in throwing you
fellows out and putting others in, if a new party
is the outcome of the issue, and seeing some of
you, who have your pockets filled with the sala-
ries which the Government has heaped upon
you, shoved out of a job and your vast schemes
for growing richer, at the expense of the lives
of just such poor unfortunates as the Negroes
you are allowing the South to burn in order
to keep in power, blown to the devil. We can
at least do that much."
“I didn't expect such talk from you, Langley,"


A COLORED POLITICIAN.
231
said Mr. Clapp, his lips tightening in a tense
line about the mouth.
“I suppose not. I've always been pliable, like
the rest of the race. Things are changing.”
“ The dollar will fetch you every time, John."
Not this time, anyhow," was the dogged
reply.
Pshaw! You people are standing in your
own light.”
“Yes, I think we are. Been doing the same
old thing for the last thirty-five years.
"What do you mean?” demanded Mr. Clapp,
growing white with suppressed passion. “ Is
that a reflection ?"
“Don't lose your temper, Colonel; the man
who gets mad always gets the worst of it,” re-
plied John blandly. “I want to ask you a ques-
tion: Did you ever hear of such a thing as a
man being robbed and murdered in the house
of his friends ?” He looked Mr. Clapp squarely
in the eye. The latter shifted uneasily in his
seat.
"That's what's been done to my people.”
Well, you can't complain ; you've had all
you're worth.”
“Had all we're worth! Yes, you give us a
bootblack stand in the corridor of the State
House, and think we are placated.”
"You can't expect anything more until you
66


232
CONTENDING FORCES.
have earned it. Besides, you're incompetent
to fill any higher position. I have had a num-
ber of your best men tried in clerical positions,
and you always fail to compete favorably with
an ordinary white clerk. You can't ask the
people to pay for ignorant incompetents."
“ Ha, ha, ha!” laughed John, as he lay back
in his chair and winked at the Colonel, “ that's
a good one! What do you think I've been
doing since I've been in the law business
in this city? Why, the greenest ward-heeler
knows that neither a white nor black man is
competent to fill an office if the heads of the
department where he is employed wish to get
rid of him. The civil service is a good thing,
but even that can't save a man from becoming
incompetent when his resignation is desired by
any one in authority. That's no argument at
all. And as for our earning our rights
didn't earn them at Wagner and Fort Fisher
and at Fort Pillow; we haven't held the casting
vote, and floated you from poverty into afflu-
ence."
"But the South, man!” exclaimed the
Colonel, pounding the table before him with
his fists until the dust sprang from the covers
of the volumes lying there," the South has
rights as well as you. They are white men,
man; you can't expect us to leave them out.
we


234
CONTENDING FORCES.
“Threats do not frighten me, Colonel; nearly
nineteen hundred years ago Christ sat at sup-
per with his friends, and one of them, with a
kiss still warm on his lips, betrayed him to
crucifixion. What have we to expect from our
friends?”
“Now, look here, Langley, don't say hard
things, and don't get mad. I will admit every
word that you say. It is all true,
dit!” he
exclaimed as he arose to his feet and began
walking up and down the floor with rapid
strides. “I imagine I should feel even worse
than you do if I were one of your race, but you
see things are as they are, and why not make
the best of a bad matter? Your people can't
help themselves. If you rose in the South and
appealed to arms you would soon be extermi.
nated; for of course the South is our brother,
and in an uprising of that sort, the National
arms would necessarily be directed against the
' rioters,' as they would be termed. Individu-
ally, I might feel the justice of your cause; oth-
ers might feel with me; but expediency would
make me fight against you. And that brings
me to my errand here today. It is the duty of
every one of us to wait for justice, and not
to countenance excitement and bloodshed. I
assure you upon my honor as a man, that if
the colored people are only patient for a while


236
CONTENDING FORCES.
you just make up your mind to one thing: we're
coming high this time. It's going to cost you
something; yes, sir, right smart.”
“ I tell you, Langley, we have a hard fight to
give your people even the little that they do get.
It's your duty to listen to reason in this matter.
What do you want, anyhow?”
“We want our men given something beside
boot-blacking in the employment of the state.
We want our girls given a chance as clerks;
that's what we want. Anything unreasonable
in that?”
“No; that isn't unreasonable, but dit
all, man, other employees would 'kick.''
"Let 'em 'kick.' Turn 'em out and get
others; the civil service lists are always full.”
John faced the angry man with grim determi-
nation on every feature. He thought to him-
self: “The Colonel wants something done, and
he might as well know that it's going to take
a good thing to get me on his side.”
“All right! I see what's the matter with
you; you want to fight!” exclaimed the angry
Colonel. “ All right! be pig-headed; don't
listen to reason; plunge the country into a
race war in spite of all we've done for you,
especially for your leaders; and when your
race is exterminated, put the blame where it
belongs. I wash my hands of the whole busi-
ness!”


A COLORED POLITICIAN.
237
Oh,” replied John, with a conciliatory air,
" I don't want to see bloodshed any more
than you do, and I am just as ready to accept
amicable terms for my race as you are to offer
them. I only want to convince you that we
can do something if conditions are right.”
“ You're all right, John, my boy,” returned
Clapp, as he slapped Langley on the back,
apparently very ready to grasp the olive-branch
of peace; "you stick to the party and the
party 'll stick to you. We don't want to quar-
rel, do we?
“No, that won't pay,” said John.
Each man now resumed the seat which he had
vacated under the excitement of the moment,
helped himself to another cigar, and again con-
templated the ceiling through rings of smoke.
John noticed that the fly had made the circuit
of the ceiling, and was moving toward him
from the opposite side of the room. After a
moment's silence the Colonel said:
“Your folks are going to have a meeting
about this last atrocious affair, aren't they?'
“Yes; I was just looking over the list of
speakers as you came in.”
“I suppose they're pretty mad?'
Yes; pretty hot.”
By the way, Langley, your name is up for
the place of City Solicitor, to fill the vacancy


238
CONTENDING FORCES,
made by the death of Calvin. I suppose you'll
accept it if you pull it off ? "
This was the first that John had heard about
any such place being offered to him, but he
took it as a matter of course, and his eyes
sparkled as he replied: “That would suit me
to a T.”
That settles it, then; it's a go. Now I tell
you what you do,” he continued between the
puffs of fragrant smoke; "you hold that meet-
ing down among your people to a calm level.
Don't let your fire-eaters like Judge Watson
raise the devil of a row, and throw dirt on the
party. You keep that end down and I'll work
the papers."
“Just so,” replied John.
How's the city election going down your
way, anyhow?" asked the Colonel, after a few
more explicit directions to Langley concerning
the work he would have him do.
“Pretty fair. Some of the voters want to
take their own heads, but they can be managed.”
“Well, here's an order on the committee for
money waiting to be used in your district in an
emergency. Draw when you need it.” Then
he arose from his chair to take his leave.
Mighty good cigars you keep, John.”
Help yourself, Colonel, help yourself.”
The Hon. Herbert Clapp graciously took a
is


A COLORED POLITICIAN.
239
half-dozen and stored them away in a capacious
coat pocket. After a few more commonplace
remarks Langley accompanied his visitor to
the door, they shook hands, and the interview
was ended.


240
CONTEXDING FORCES.
CHAPTER XIII.
THE AMERICAN COLORED LEAGUE.
SHALL tongues be mute when deeds are wrought
Which well might shame extremest hell?
Shall Pity's bosom cease to swell?
Shall Honor bleed? — shall Truth succumb?
Shall pen and press and soul be dumb?
No;- by each spot of haunted ground
Where Freedom weeps her children's fall,
By Plymouth's rock and Bunker's mound,
By Griswold's stained and shattered wall,
By Warren's ghost, by Langdon's shade,
By all the memories of our dead !
By their enlarging souls, which burst
The bands and fetters round them set,
By the free Pilgrim spirit nursed
Within our inmost bosoms, yet,
By all above, around, below,
Be ours the indignant answer, — No!
WHITTIER.
WHEN Judge Watson, the president of the
League, reached his office on that eventful
March morning, he found his desk deluged
with telegrams from all over the country.
From the South the cry was: “Can nothing be
done?” “Where is Massachusetts ?
Has our
old friend been turned against us at last? ”
“For God's sake help us!” “ How long, O


THE AMERICAN COLORED LEAGUE.
241
Lord, how long !” “Let the voice of the
League be heard from every city, town and vil-
lage in the Union. Speak, and let our voices
be heard !"
Such were the messages that compelled the
hoary-haired veteran of a hundred anti-slavery
meetings to crush back the sobs which arose
in his throat as he, too, reiterated the cry of
an afflicted people: “How long, O Lord, how
long!” That day the executive committee of
the League met and asked themselves what
could be done. “Nothing," was the final deci-
sion after debating the question, “but to agi-
tate.” This plan they proceeded to put into
execution. Notices were sent all over New
England of a gigantic public meeting to be
held at the church on X Street, on the Tues-
day evening following. The press, with one or
two exceptions, sided either openly or secretly
against the Negroes, North and South. “Ah,
ah!” they cried, “see how the Negro abuses
the great privileges which we have bestowed
In view of this fact, the League
decided that a conservative white man should
be asked to address the meeting, along with
men imbued with the old abolition spirit, and
in this way each side could have a chance to
represent the subject as seen from its point of
view. “Let us, once and for all, look at the
upon him.”


2.12
CONTENDING FORCES.
question dispassionately; if the fault be ours,
let us acknowledge it like men, and seek to
amend it; if it belongs to others, may God help
them to do right.”
The excitement among the colored people
was intense: prayers were held in all the
churches the Sunday preceding. Telegrams
were received from the branches of the League
all over the state that delegates would repre-
sent them. The meeting would be a great
expression of public opinion.
Dr. Arthur Lewis was head of a large edu-
cational institution in the South devoted to the
welfare of the Negroes. Every year he visited
the city, and assisted by a quartette of singers,
who were also members of the school, collected
large sums of money from the best class of
philanthropic citizens, who gave to the Negro
not only because they believed he was wronged,
but also because they believed that in great
measure his elevation would remove the stigma
under which the Southern white labored. For
the loyal white man there would be no greater
joy in life than to see his poetic dream of
superiority to all other governments realized
in the "land of the free and the home of the
brave.” He knows that this can never be while
the Negro question keeps up the line of demar-
kation which marks the division of the North


THE AMERICAN COLORED LEAGUE.
243
from the South. True and loyal son of his
country, he would sacrifice any race, any prin-
ciple, to bring about this much-desired consum-
mation ; so he contributes his money to build
up manufacturing interests at the South to his
own material disadvantage in the North: to
develop uncultivated land there, and to edu-
cate the Negro with the hope that in the gen-
eral advance the latter question may be buried
from public notice, if not obliterated. Delusive
hope that grasps at shadows !
That momentous Tuesday evening rolled
quickly round. The committee asked that the
meeting should open at half-past seven, on
account of the time needed by the speakers,
and long before the hour appointed the large
edifice was filled to overflowing. And what a
crowd! They came from towns remote, from
the farm, from domestic service in the homes
of wealth and from among the lowly ones who
earn a scanty living with scrubbing-brush and
pail. Doctor, lawyer, politician, mechanic -
every class sent its representative there to help
protest against the wrongs of down-trodden
manhood.
The platform was heavily draped in Ameri.
can flags supplemented by wide bands of mourn-
ing. Pictures of the anti-slavery apostles
peered out at the audience from the folds of


244
CONTENDING FORCES.
the national colors. Speakers and representa-
tive citizens were seated upon the platform, and
visiting delegates occupied seats in close prox-
imity. The choir had volunteered its services,
and, after a prayer by the pastor, rendered Mrs.
Julia Ward Howe's “ Battle Hymn of the Re-
public” in masterly style. In listening to the
martial strains the pulse of the vast concourse
of people was strained with excitement and
expectation. The stillness was intense as the
gray-haired president of the League and chair-
man of the meeting arose in his seat and pass-
ing to the desk, rapped for order.
“Fellow-citizens and men and women of my
race: The occasion for this meeting is one of
great solemnity. Forty years ago, when as a
young man I sat at the feet of Sumner, Phillips,
Garrison, Pillsbury, Charles Lenox Remond,
Nell, Robert Morris, Fred Douglas and all the
mighty host of anti-slavery fathers, we thought
that with the abolishment of slavery the black
man's destiny would be accomplished, and fixed
beyond a peradventure. Today a condition of
affairs confronts us that they never foresaw:
the systematic destruction of the Negro by
every device which the fury of enlightened
malevolence can invent. In whatever direction
we turn, the clouds hang dark and threatening.
This new birth of the black race is a mighty


THE AMERICAN COLORED LEAGUE.
245
agony. God help us in our struggle for liberty
and manhood! Agitation and eternal vigilance
in the formation of public opinion were the
weapons which broke the power of the slave-
holder and gave us emancipation. I recom-
mend these methods to you today, knowing
their value in the past.
«• Up then and act! Thy courage wake!
Combat intrigue, injustice, tyranny,
And in thine efforts God will be with thee.'”
He then called upon the Hon. Herbert Clapp,
as a representative of the party and of the sen-
timent of the best white people of the country,
to address the meeting.
The political contingent gave him a hearty
welcome as he moved with stately tread to the
front of the platform. He said:
“The topic to be discussed is a very serious
one, and I feel deeply how incompetent I am to
deal with it, how incompetent most of us are
to attempt the solution of the question before
us. As
As a white man looking upon the South
as my brother, and desiring to see the wel.
fare of that section secured along with the
rights of the brother in black, I feel the respon-
sibility which rests upon me tonight to be fair
and just, impartial to both sides in what I may
say. I ask you tonight as rational people to


246
CONTENDING FORCES.
look at this question from both points of view;
to be calm and logical; to be willing, as just
men of intelligence and judgment, to see and
acknowledge wrong wherever you find it
among your own people, and to be willing to
consult as to the best method of procedure to
rectify mistakes which if corrected may lead
to an amicable adjustment of all difficulties in
the South. As a friend of both sides, I ask you
to do this.
“I am not here to apologize for the South;
she has her ills and her sins. What section
has not? Let us thank God that sectionalism
is dead.
“Now, then, let us try to appreciate the
relations of the Negro at the South. All his-
tory shows that two races, approaching in any
degree equality in numbers, cannot live to-
gether unless intermarriage takes place or the
one is dependent and in some sense subject
to the other. Miscegenation by law will never
take place in the South. No matter how much
we people of the North may differ with our
brothers of the South, this point will always
remain fixed. Miscegenation, then, being out
of the question, nothing remains for the Negro
but to be dominated by the white man there.
I hold that the Negro in American civilization
is a problem of a vast deal more import than


THE AMERICAN COLORED LEAGUE.
247
we are inclined to believe. The problem is
national, not sectional. The sin of slavery was
the sin of the nation, and that sin stands before
us today full of menace, full of peril to the
whole people. The Southern brother claims,
and with some justice I think you will allow,
that under the influence of scalawags and car-
pet-baggers, mostly composed of unprincipled
Northern white men, the Negro has opposed,
politically, everything that he thinks the white
man wants. Upon this subject Prof. H. M.
Brown, a Negro and member of the faculty of
Hampton Institute, says : ‘The greatest enemy
to the Negro and the greatest obstacle to his
progress is the politician, and the Negro poli-
tician is the worst of all.'
"You cannot deny that the well-behaved
Negro has the respect of the community in
which he lives at the South. Witness the
death of a highly respected Negro in Georgia
a short time ago. He never dabbled in politics,
and his death was deplored by white and black
alike. In thirty years forty per cent of the
illiteracy at the South among the colored peo-
ple has disappeared, due no doubt to environ-
ment and emulation of the whites. All kinds of
employment, trades, professions, etc., are open
to the Negro at the South, and you know that
counts for a great deal. Here at the North the


248
CONTENDING FORCES.
pressure is so great from the white laborer that
we are forced, to some extent, to bar against
the colored brother. I am ashamed to say it;
but let us state the case truthfully, if at all.
“To come to the case in hand, I wish it to
be distinctly understood that I am absolutely
opposed to mob law. But there is an un-
written law, not peculiar to any section, which
demands the quickest execution, in the quickest
way, of the fiend who robs a virtuous woman
of her honor to gratify his hellish diabolism.
Human nature is the same throughout the
civilized world. If in return for all the benefits
conferred upon the Negro at the South, which
I have enumerated previously, they give us
the heinous crime of rape, what shall we say y?
Where find excuses for such ingratitude?
Surely as men we must have sympathy for the
pure and virtuous woman who carries with her
a living shame, in a living death, in a life all
too long for its miseries, if it lasts but for a
day.”
As he finished and returned to his seat, a
sigh like a broken moan seemed to come
from the very heart of the multitude, but not
a movement broke the stillness. The Hon.
Herbert Clapp felt that his part of the exer-
cises was a failure. After à pause, the chair-
man introduced Doctor Lewis as a leading


250
CONTENDING FORCES.
or scheme that may suggest itself to the wily
brain of the unscrupulous politician. These
men are dangerous to the peace of the com-
munity, and it is such men who commit the
deeds of violence with which the country is
horrified at short intervals. If we cannot
reach these men individually, we hope to reach
their children. Thus we have planned that
with the aid of our universities we shall at
length root out evil and ignorance, and in the
future give our race a clean, pure citizenship.
As our friend has stated - politics is the bane
of the Negro's existence. Those of us who
eschew that subject, let matters of government
take care of themselves, while we look out for
our own individual or collective advancement,
find no difficulty in living at the South in
peace and harmony with our neighbors. If we
are patient, docile, harmless, we may expect to
see that prosperity for which we long, in the
years to come, if not for ourselves then for our
children. I am an optimist in regard to the
future. I have great hopes of the better class
of Southern people themselves.
“Let us remember that the South was more
conquered than persuaded. The Confederates
did not surrender their convictions with their
swords. Immediately after the war Henry W.
Grady would have been looked upon as a mon-


THE AMERICAN COLORED LEAGUE.
251
strosity. It was a severe blow to the South
when the slave gained his liberty. As the
South gains wealth and resources I think that
the problem will grow less difficult. It is the
idea of the Negro holding political preferment
that is so hard for the North and South to
swallow. But if we give them time and do not
hurry them, they will grow gradually accus-
tomed to the new era. Convince the South
that we do not want social equality, neither do)
we wish to rule. We want nothing but our
God-given rights as men.
"I believe in the humanizing influence of
the dollar judiciously expended for educational
advantages, 'holding it better and wiser to tend
the weeds in the garden than to water the exotic
in the window. We should strive to obtain
the education of the industrial school, seeking
there our level, content to abide there, leaving
to the white man the superiority of brain and
intellect which hundreds of years have de-
veloped.”
He ceased speaking and sat down amid mur-
murs of applause, mingled with disapprobation.
Some among the audience began to grow rest-
less. Was this what they came to hear-an
apology, almost an eulogy upon the course pur-
sued by the South toward the Negro? Other
speakers - white and colored — followed; then


252
CONTENDING FORCES.
the chairman introduced our friend John Lang-
ley. He came to the front of the platform with
his usual graceful bearing. He was well known
among the people, especially the younger con-
tingent, and was received with liberal applause.
“My friends," he said, “I shall not detain
you with any lengthy remarks upon the situa-
tion, because there are speakers to follow me.
I am glad of the opportunity to say what I
think about lynch law: It is a terrible thing
to contemplate. The crime which provokes it
is still more terrible, to my thinking. I utter
no eulogy upon the position of the South
toward the Negro, neither do I harbor undue
resentment for the grievous wrongs which I
feel they have, in some measure, heaped upon
I am willing to leave the punishment of
criminals, the suppression of mob violence,
with the national government, being convinced
that in good time the government so trusted
will acquit itself with equity toward my race.
You have listened to the speeches made by
our friend, the Hon. Herbert Clapp, and our
brother, Dr. Arthur Lewis, upon whose word
we can implicitly rely, because he works, lives,
and moves among the very happenings of which
we know nothing save by reading. It is dis-
cretion to act coolly, calmly and deliberately;
to look at all sides of a question before we
US.


THE AMERICAN COLORED LEAGUE.
253
jump at conclusions. I can see nothing to be
gained, if, as we have been advised, we took
up arms in defense of our rights of citizenship.
Extermination would speedily follow. Let us
not invite destruction. But we have oppor-
tunities of advancement. Let us seize them.
Let us await the issue of events with patience,
trusting in the fealty of our party leaders, put-
ting faith in their sagacity to push our claims
and redress whatever grievances we may have,
at a seasonable time. We thoroughly under-
stand the attitude of the whites. Let us not
offend the class upon whom we depend for
employment and assistance in times of emer-
gencies. By so doing, if we cannot have amity
we can have peace.”


254
CONTENDING FORCES.
CHAPTER XIV.
LUKE SAWYER SPEAKS TO THE LEAGUE.
My ear is pained,
My soul is sick with every day's report
Of wrong and outrage with which earth is filled.
There is no flesh in man's obdurate heart;
It does not feel for man: the natural bond
Of brotherhood is severed as the flax
That falls asunder at the touch of fire.
He finds his fellow guilty of a skin
Not colored like his own; and, having power
To enforce the wrong for such a worthy cause,
Dooms and devotes him as a lawful prey.
CowPER.
SCARCELY had the speaker taken his seat
amid suppressed murmurs of discontent, when
a tall, gaunt man of very black complexion
arose in his seat among the delegates, and in a
sonorous bass voice uttered the solemn protest
of Patrick Henry, so famous in history: “Gen-
tlemen may cry 'Peace! peace!' but there is
no peace!”
In an instant confusion reigned. Women
fluttered their handkerchiefs, and above waves
of applause and cheers could be heard cries of
“ Hear, hear!” “Platform! platform!” The
chairman rapped for order, and when he could
make himself heard, asked the delegate to come


SAWYER SPEAKS TO THE LEAGUE.
255
م ر
to the platform; another speaker was waiting,
but the audience would be glad to hear anything
he might have to say. As he passed up the
aisle and mounted the steps of the rostrum,
the people saw a man of majestic frame, rugged
physique and immense muscular development.
His face was kindly, but withal bore the marks
of superior intelligence, shrewdness and great
strength of character. He might have been a
Cromwell, a Robespierre, a Lincoln. Men of
his physiological development - when white —
mould humanity, and leave their own charac-
teristics engraved upon the pages of the history
of their times.
“Friends," said he, when he stood before
them, “ I come from Williamstown, in the west-
ern part of this state, to be a delegate at this
meeting. Here are my credentials to show
that I am in good standing in the League where
I belong. (He handed his papers to the chair-
man.) I want to impress that fact upon the
minds of this assembly, because I am going to
tell you some awful facts before I get through.”
He paused, and with his handkerchief wiped
the tears and perspiration from his face.
“Friends, I am thirty years old and look fifty.
I want to tell you why this is so. I want to
tell you what brought me here. I want to tell
the gentlemen who have spoken here tonight


!

BROKE OPEN THE DOORS, SEIZED MY FATHER, AND HUNG HIM
TO THE NEAREST TREE.





SAWYER SPEAKS TO THE LEAGUE.
257
continued to trade with him, and it seemed
that the other man would be compelled to give
up. About this time father received threaten-
ing letters ordering him to move, and saying
that in case he did not do as ordered he would
lose his life. Mother was frightened, and ad-
vised father to get out of the place, but he,
anxious to save some part of his hard earnings,
waited to sell his stock and houses before seek-
ing a home elsewhere. One night a posse of
men came to our house and began smoking us
out. You don't know anything about that up
here, do you? Well, you'll get there if things
keep on as they're going. My father had arms.
He raised the window of his sleeping-room and
fired into the mob of cowardly hounds. Thor-
oughly enraged, they broke open the doors
back and front, seized my father and hung him
to the nearest tree, whipped my mother and
sister, and otherwise abused them so that they
died next day. My brothers were twins, still
so small that they were but babes. The mob
took them by the heels and dashed their brains
out against the walls of the house! Then they
burned the house. I saw all this, and frenzied
with horror, half-dead with fright, crept into the
woods to die. I was found there by a colored
planter named Beaubean, who lived in the next
township. He pitied me and took me home.


258
CONTENDING FORCES.
That, gentlemen, was my first experience of
lynching. Do you think it is possible to preach
'peace' to a man like me ?”
The house was filled with the cries and
groans of the audience. Sobs shook the women,
while the men drank in the words of the speaker
with darkening brows and hands which involun-
tarily clinched themselves in sympathy with his
words.
“ But that is not the only story I can tell.
Here's another. I will tell it to you, and you
can digest it at your leisure.
“ Monsieur Beaubean was an educated man,
descended from a very wealthy family. His
father had been his owner. When the father
died he left to his son, born of a black mother,
an equal share of the estate along with his
legitimate heirs. They made no objections, so
he got it.
"Monsieur Beaubean had married a quadroon
woman of great beauty — Louisany abounds in
handsome women of color; they had two chil-
dren, a boy and a girl. She was three years
old when I went to live with them. I remained
in the family twelve years. I learned many
things there; along with the trade of black-
smithing I learned to esteem myself as a man.
“I cannot describe to you the beauty and
loveliness of that child. As a boy I worshipped


SAWYER SPEAKS TO THE LEAGUE.
259
her, and as a man I loved her; not with the
hope of ever having a return of the feeling she
had aroused in me, but as a faithful dog that
would lay down his life for those who shel-
ter and care for him, so I felt to Beaubean's
family, and especially to that child.
When
Mabelle, as we called her, was old enough, she
was sent to the Colored Sisters' School in the
city of New Orleans. It was my pleasant duty
to drive her into the city each day and go for
her at night.
* Monsieur Beaubean had a half-brother - a
white man — who was very wealthy and stood
very high in politics. In fact, he was in the
State Senate. He was very warm in his expres-
sions of friendship for the family, and especially
so in his assumption of relationship. I noticed
that he seemed extremely fond of Mabelle.
One day, after she had passed her fourteenth
birthday, she had a holiday from school, and
went with some schoolfellows to visit a com-
panion who lived in the city. They returned
at night without her, saying that she went into
a store with Monsieur Beaubean's brother, and
they had not seen her since.
“Can you imagine what a night was passed by
that family? No, you cannot, unless you have
been through the same experience. The father
went in one direction and I in another. All


260
CONTENDING FORCES.
night long we searched the city streets; nothing
could be heard of her. Finally we went to
police headquarters and secured the services
of a detective. After three wecks of incessant
searching we found her a prisoner in a house
of the vilest character in the lowest portion of
the city of New Orleans - a poor, ruined, half-
crazed creature in whom it was almost impos-
sible to trace a resemblance to the beautiful pet
of our household. These arms bore her forth
from that vile den and restored her to a broken-
hearted parent. I think that I must have gone
mad. If I had had the man there then that
committed the crime (he raised one gaunt
arm above his head, and standing in that atti-
tude seemed the embodiment of vengeance)
I would have taken him by the throat and
shaken him (he hissed the words through
clinched teeth), shaken him as a dog would a
rat until he was dead ! DEAD! DEAD! We took
her home, but I believe that her father was a
madman from the time he placed his eyes upon
her until he was murdered. And who do you
think had done this foul crime? Why, the
father's half-brother, uncle of the victim!
"Crazed with grief, Monsieur Beaubean faced
his brother and accused him of his crime.
Well,' said he, 'whatever damage I have done
I am willing to pay for. But your child is no


SAWYER SPEAKS TO THE LEAGUE.
261
better than her mother or her grandmnother.
What does a woman of mixed blood, or any
Negress, for that matter, know of virtue? It
is my belief that they were a direct creation by
God to be the pleasant companions of men
of my race. Now, I am willing to give you
a thousand dollars and call it square.' He
handed Monsieur Beaubean a roll of bills as he
spoke. Beaubean seized them and hurled them
into the villain's face with these words: 'I
leave you to carry my case into the Federal
courts and appeal for justice.' Unhappy man!
That night his house was mobbed. The crowd
surrounded the building after firing it, and as
an inmate would show his head at a window
in the struggle to escape from the burning
building, someone would pick him off. So it
went all that night. I seized Mabelle and
wrapped her in a
her in a blanket. Watching my
chance I stole from the house after the fire was
well under way, and miraculously reached a
place of safety. I took Mabelle to the colored
convent at New Orleans, and left her there in
the care of the sisters. There she died when her
child was born!”
As the speaker stood silently contemplating
his weeping, grief-convulsed audience, a woman
was borne from the auditorium in a fainting
condition. John Langley from his seat on the


262
CONTENDIXG FORCES.
platform leaned over and asked an usher who
the lady was. “Miss Sappho Clark," was his
reply.
Amid universal silence, the silence which
comes from feeling too deep for outward expres-
sion, the speaker concluded: “A tax too heavy
placed on tea and things like that, niade the
American Colonies go to
go to war with Great
Britain to get their liberty. I ask you what
you think the American Colonies would have
done if they had suffered as we have suffered
and are still suffering ?
“ Mr. Chairman, gentlemen call for peace,
and I reply: ‘Peace if possible; justice at any
rate.' Where is there peace for men like me?
When the grave has closed over me and my
memories, I shall have peace.
“ Under such conditions as I have described,
contentment, amity - call it by what name
you will — is impossible; justice alone remains
to us.”


WILL SMITH'S DEFENSE OF HIS RACE.
263
CHAPTER XV.
WILL SMITH'S DEFENSE OF HIS RACE.
THANK God for the token!
Thank God that one man as a free
Man has spoken!
- WHITTIER.
9)
SOMEONE at this moment began to sing that
grand old hymn, ever new and consoling:
“Jesus, Lover of my soul,
Let me to thy bosom fly,
While the nearer waters roll,
While the tempest still is nigh."
When quiet once more reigned, amid intense
silence the chairman arose and introduced
Mr. William Smith as the last speaker of the
evening. Tremendous applause greeted him,
for he was known to be an able and eloquent
debater,
"Friends," he said, “I shall not attempt a
lengthy and discursive argument; I shall
simply try to answer some of the arguments
which have been advanced by other speakers.
I have no doubt that they have spoken their
honest convictions. Now let us look at the
other side of the question.
“We know that the Negro question is the
most important issue in the affairs of the


WILL SMITH'S DEFENSE OF HIS RACE. 265
man will tell you that of all politicians the
Negro is the vilest, ignoring the fact that for
corrupt politics no race ever can or ever will
excel the venality of a certain class of whites.
Let us, for the sake of illustration, glance at
the position of the Irish element in politics.
They come to this country poor, unlettered,
despised. Fifty years ago Pat was as little
welcome at the North as the Negro at the
South. What has changed the status of his
citizenship? Politics. The Irishman domi-
nates politics at the North, and there is no gift
within the power of the government that does
not feel his influence. I remember a story I
heard once of an Irishman just landed at Castle
Garden. A friend met him, and as they
walked up the street said to him: 'Well, Pat,
you are just in time to vote for the city govern-
ment election.' 'Begorra,' replied Pat, “an' is
it a guvimint they have here? Sure, thin, I'll
vote agin it.'
The Irish vote, then, is massed at certain
strategic points in the North, and its power is
feared and respected. The result has been a
rapid and dazzling advance all along the ave-
nues of education and wealth in this country
for that incisive race. To the Negro alone
politics shall bring no fruit.
“To the defense of slavery in the past, and


266
CONTENDING FORCES.
the inhuman treatment of the Negro in the
present, the South has consecrated her best
energies. Literature, politics, theology, history
have been ransacked and perverted to prove
the hopeless inferiority of the Negro and the
design of God that he should serve by right of
color and physique. She has convinced no one
but herself. Bitterer than double-distilled gall
was the Federal success which brought Negro
emancipation, domination and supremacy.
“ Disfranchisement is what is wanted by the
South. Disfranchise the Negro and the South
will be content. He, as the weaker race, can
soon be crowded out.
Many solutions of the question of Negro
domination have been advanced; among them
the deportation of the Negro to Africa has
been most warmly advocated by public men all
over the country. They argue that in this way
the prophecy of the Bible will soonest be ful-
filled; that 'Ethiopia shall stretch forth her
hand and princes shall come out of Egypt.'
“ The late Henry Grady told us that in the
wise and humane administration, in the lift-
ing the slave to heights of which he had not
dreamed in his savage home, and giving him
a happiness he has not yet found in freedom
our fathers (Southern men) left their sons a
saving and excellent heritage (slavery). An-


WILL SMITI'S DEFENSE OF HIS RACE. 267
other man, also a Southerner, has told us :
'In education and industrial progress this race
has accomplished more than it could have
achieved in centuries in different environment,
without the aid of the whites. The Negro has
needed the example as well as the aid of the
white man.
In sections where the colored
population is massed and removed from con-
tact with the whites, the Negro has retrograded.
Segregate the colored population and you take
away the object-lesson.' Here, then, is the
testimony of two intellectual white men as to
the dependence of the Negro upon his proxim-
ity to the whites for a continuance of what
advancement he has made since the abolish-
ment of slavery. Is such a race as this fit at
the present time to carry enlightenment into a
savage and barbarous country? Can the blind
lead the blind? Would not the Negro gradu-
ally fall into the same habits of ignorance and
savagery from which the white slave-trader so
humanely rescued him when he transported
him into the blissful lap of American slavery?
The Negro cannot be deported.
" It is being argued that the Negro is receiv.
ing education beyond his needs or his capacity.
In short, that a Negro highly educated is a
Negro spoiled. I agree with the gentleman on
the other side that education alone will not


268
CONTENDING FORCES.
ܪ
produce a good citizen. But, of those who
would curtail his endeavors to reach the highest
that may be opened to him, I would ask: Of
what use has education been to you in the
upbuilding of the social and political structure
which you designate the United States of
America? What are the uses of education
anyhow?
“To those who know the constitution of the
brain as the organ of the moral and intellectual
powers of man, education is of the highest
importance in the formation of the character
of the individual, the race, the government, the
social life of any community under heaven.
The objects presented to the mind by educa-
tion stimulate in the same manner that the
physical elements of nature do the nerves and
muscles - they afford the faculties scope for
action. Education is knowledge of nature in
all its departments. The moment the mind
discovers its own constitution and discerns the
importance of the natural laws, the great advan-
tage of moral and intellectual cultivation as a
means of invigorating the brain and mental
faculties, and of directing the conduct in obedi-
ence to the laws of God and man, is apparent, .
It is important that the Negro should not be
hampered in his search after knowledge if we
would eliminate from his nature any tendency


WILL SMITH'S DEFENSE OF HIS RACE. 269
toward vice that he may be thought to possess,
and which has been largely increased by what
he has imbibed from the example and the close,
IMMORAL ASSOCIATION which often existed between
the master and the slave. From my own obser-
vation I should say that in this country today
the science of man's whole nature - animal,
moral and intellectual — was never more re-
quired to guide him than at present, when he
seems to wield a giant's power, and in the
application of it to display the selfish ignorance
of an overgrown child.
“We come now to the crime of rape, with
which the Negro is accused. For the sake of
argument, we will allow that in one case out
of a hundred the Negro is guilty of the crime
with which he is charged ; in the other ninety-
nine cases the white man gratifies his lust,
either of passion or vengeance. None of us
will ever forget the tales told us tonight by
Luke Sawyer; the wanton passions he revealed
and which it has taken centuries of white
civilization to develop, disclosing a dire hell
to which the common crime of the untutored
Negro is as white as alabaster. And it is from
such men as these that the appeal comes for
protection for woman's virtue! Do such ex-
amples as these render the Negro gentle and
pacific? No; he sees himself traveling for


WILL SMITH'S DEFENSE OF HIS RACE.
271
!!
hood of the enfranchised black. Rape is the
crime which appeals most strongly to the heart
of the home life. Merciful God! Irony of
ironies! The men who created the mulatto race,
who recruit its ranks year after year by the very
means which they invoked lynch law to suppress,
bewailing the sorrows of violated womanhood!
“No; it is not rape. If the Negro votes, he
is shot; if he marries a white woman, he is shot;
if he accumulates property, he is shot or lynched
he is a pariah whom the National Govern-
ment cannot defend. But if he defends himself
and his home, then is heard the tread of march-
ing feet as the Federal troops move south ward
to quell a 'race riot.'
The South declares that she is no worse
than the North, and that the North would do
the same under like provocation. Perhaps so,
if the offender were a Negro. Take the case
of Christie Warden and Frank Almy, which
occurred in New Hampshire only a few years
ago. Where could a more atrocious crime be
perpetrated? The refinement of intellectual
pursuits, the elegancies of social intercourse,
were the attributes which went to make up the
personnel of the most brutal murderer that ever
disgraced the history of crime. Centuries of
culture and civilization were combined in his
make-up. The community where the girl lived


272
CONTENDING FORCES.
and was respected and beloved did not lynch
the brute. The white heat of passion led men
to lay aside all pursuits for days in order to
hunt the criminal from his hiding-place. New
Hampshire justice gave him counsel and every
means to defend himself from the penalty of his
horrid crime. That was in the North !
“ Human nature is the same in everything.
The characteristic traits of the master will be
found in his dog. Black, devilish, brutal as
they may picture the Negro to be, he but
reflects the nature of his environments. He is
the Hyde who torments the Dr. Jekyll of the
white man's refined civilization !
My friends, it is going to take time to
straighten out this problem ; it will only be
done by the formation of public opinion. Brute
force will not accomplish anything. We must
agitate. As the anti-slavery apostles went
everywhere, preaching the word fifty years
before emancipation, so must we do to-day.
Appeal for the justice of our cause to every
civilized nation under the heavens. Lift our.
selves upward and forward in this great
march
of life until Ethiopia shall indeed stretch forth
her hand, and princes shall come out of Egypt.
When he had finished there was not a dry
eye in that vast audience. Every heart followed
the words of the pastor as with broken utter-


WILL SMITH'S DEFENSE OF HIS RACE.
273
ance he invoked the divine blessing upon the
meeting just ended. Slowly they dispersed to
their homes, filled with thoughts that burn but
cannot be spoken.
The papers said next day that a very inter-
esting meeting occurred the night before at the
church on X Street.


274
CONTENDING FORCES.
CHAPTER XVI.
JOHN LANGLEY CONSULTS MADAM FRANCES.
MACBETH.- Tell me, thou unknown power,
First WITCH.— He knows thy thought:
Hear his speech but say thou nought.
MACBETH.- Whate'er thou art, for thy good caution thanks;
But one word more,-
First WITCH.- He will not be commanded: here's another,
More potent than the first.
MACBETH.
Many things troubled John Langley. The
fact that Dora and he seemed to have lost the
close relationship which had distinguished the
first period of their engagement, and that she
now studiously avoided him and accepted with
alacrity all the attention which her childhood's
lover so ardently showered upon her, did not
disturb him so much as the utter indifference
of Sappho Clark. How to bend her to his will
was the thought which absorbed his waking
hours and haunted him even in sleep. She
should not escape him; on that he was deter-
mined.
This morning as he walked down town to
his office he turned over various plans in his
mind, and finally determined to go that very
day and consult Madam Frances, who had been


LANGLEY CONSULTS MADAM FRANCES.
275
voted such a tremendous success at the fair
which had just closed. John believed that the
seeress could help him, and he was not so
polished and refined as to hesitate to use such
means to accomplish an end.
When he reached the office he noticed that
an invitation to a dinner given that very even-
ing by the Canterbury Club lay upon the desk;
in his absorption in other things he had for-
gotten the dinner. He pushed his work at the
Court House to a quick finish and retraced his
steps to the office, and telling the boy that he
would not return before three o'clock, hurried
toward the quarter of the city in which the
fortune-teller lived.
J. Street is in the very heart of what is called
the “ Negro quarter" of the West End; it is
also popularly known among colored people
as "the Hill.” Here Madam Frances lived in
a small ten-foot wooden building which she
hired.
“ The Hill" has been the scene of many stir-
ring incidents in the peculiar history of the
colored people. On the J. Street side the old
St. Paul's Baptist Church is situated. This
historic old building was the first church
the colored people owned in Massachusetts.
There were five brothers - black men — bear.
ing the name of Paul, who were educated in


276
CONTENDING FORCES.
England in the reign of George III. One
of them - Thomas - determined to return to
England and beg for funds to build a colored
church in America. He was well received and
his mission was successful. Twenty years ago
an old Negress - a centenarian – was living
who had herself picked up bricks in the streets
of Boston in the early morning, and carried
them to the spot where the building was being
erected. She did this because although too
poor to give money toward furthering the
enterprise, she felt that she must contribute in
some way to the erection of this first.colored
house of worship in this part of the country.
This same woman remembered seeing Thomas
Paul bring into the church a large bandanna
handkerchief filled with the English gold he
had begged abroad, the first Sunday the build-
ing was used for worship.
St. Paul's Church became the sacred edifice
where the desire for freedom was fostered in
the heart of the Negro. There such men as
Garrison and Phillips defied the vengeance of
howling mobs that thirsted for the lives of the
Negro champions.
O glorious times! who can think of them
without a quicker heart-throb and a wildly
fluttering pulse? O honored men! O happy
dead, gone to receive the reward promised to
all who do the work of the Master!


LANGLEY CONSULTS MADAN FRANCES.
277
As we read of the deeds of such men the
question will obtrude itself: Is it the fore-
ordained destiny of some to achieve greatness?
and if not foreordained, would these same
great ones remain inert and impotent like the
mediocre majority ? Many of us strive to do
what we can, but our efforts do not seem to
amount to much. In the present emergency
which confronts us as a race, no leader has yet
pressed forward to take command, as in those
glorious old days; no Sumner to receive upon
his precious body the stripes intended for the
poor, downtrodden black man.
“ God rest us all we know not what we are !
What nature wills, not what we wish, are we.”
Let us press forward and take courage and
do the little that we can, leaving the rest to
God. The hand of the Divine Architect will
fit each life into its own niche, to form an
intricate whole of preconceived beauty.
Near the head of G. and P. Streets stands
the well-known Twelfth Baptist Church, a split
from St. Paul's, and world renowned under its
beloved pastor and founder, Leonard Grimes.
Just across the way, on P. Street, was the home
of the venerable and honored Lewis Hayden.
The history of Massachusetts is forever linked
with that of the Anti-slavery Movement, and the


LANGLEY CONSULTS MADAM FRANCES.
279
Sally, and" — then the door was closed. John
started to his feet in great excitement. Surely
he knew that voice! Again the door must have
swung open, for he caught the words of the
conversation distinctly: “There is no need
for him to know — let him continue to think"
- he heard no more. Again the door closed.
It must have been fully five minutes that he
stood intently listening, but nothing more re-
warded him. Suddenly the door opened and
shut and then he heard the quick, light footfall
of a woman and the frou-frou of silken skirts,
together with a delicate perfume that he recog-
nized. He drew back as far as possible behind
the shelter of the door, and then as he judged
from the sound that she was upon the stairs, he
ventured from his hiding place, and finding the
entry clear, peered over the banisters just in
time to catch a full view of the beautiful face
of Sappho Clark. As she passed out she had
dropped her handkerchief; John picked it up;
there in the corner were her initials: “S. C.”
He returned to his seat in the bare little
room, holding the delicately scented piece of
cambric in his hand with the feeling of a man
who is on the verge of discovering something
of importance to himself. He was confused
and uncertain in his thoughts, but when he
could command himself sufficiently to reason,


LANGLEY CONSULTS MADAM FRANCES.
281
shiver. He could feel the blood recede from
his face under the excitement of the moment
and grow cold in his veins.
cold in his veins. “Heaven above!”
he whispered, “it cannot be possible that what
I suspect is true that child - his resemblance
to her — this woman the child's great-aunt and
also Sappho's aunt — the secrecy!"..
As he sat there engrossed in speculation the
maid who had answered his ring came into the
room to tell him that the Madam would see
him. He still held the handkerchief in his
hand, and said as he held it toward the girl :
“The lady who just went out dropped it. I
think she called Madam Frances 'Aunt Sally.'
“Oh, yes," replied the girl, as she took it
from him. “I will give it to Madam. Miss
Clark comes here a great deal. She is Madam
Frances's niece."
John's thoughts were in a whirl as he followed
the girl to the door of the room Sappho had
just quitted. Why had he never heard of this
relationship before? He was quite certain that
the Smiths knew nothing of it, or he would
have heard it spoken of about the house or
at the fair. There was a mystery, then, about
her. Just at this point he awoke to a realiza-
tion of the fact that he was within a darkened
It took a moment for his eyes to become
accustomed to the semi-twilight of the apart-
room.


282
CONTENDING FORCES.
ment, and then he seated himself in a chair
beside a small table which the girl pointed out
to him before she left the room, and which was
evidently intended for visitors.
“ How do you do?" said a voice, and turning
in the direction from whence it came he beheld
the wrinkled, black face, and gaudily turbaned
head of Madam Frances. As he returned her
greeting another voice said:
“How d'y do? Lord love ye, how d'y do ?”
Then he saw that a large green parrot was
perched on the back of the chair in which
Madam Frances was seated. On the table
beside him was a silver dish holding two large
sea-green stones, in the depths of which one
could easily trace the outlines of white coral
islands, birds, beasts and reptiles.
corner of the room was a large screen covered
with unbleached cotton. The table beside
Madam Frances held a curious instrument
which resembled a ship's compass, and on its
surface the signs of the zodiac came and went
at the will of the seeress. Many curious things
were in this darkened room, and no matter how
much one might wish to disbelieve the power
of this woman to foretell the future, he could
not fail to be impressed with the surroundings.
And, after all, our surroundings influence our
lives and characters as much as fate, destiny or
any supernatural agency.
In one


LANGLEY CONSULTS MADAM FRANCES. 283
Property
Madam Frances held out her hand for her
fee, and as he laid a silver dollar across her
palm, she said :
“ She will escape you, and you will lose the
other one, too. Better stop now, and keep
the one you hold.”
“Keep the one you hold, fool, fool, fool!"
screamed the parrot's shrill voice.
" You come to me for advice about certain
property that you would like to get. There
is money all about you, piles of it. You will
meet one soon who will tell you something of
importance concerning a large sum of money.
You say you did not come here to find that
out. But it is here, and the dial does not lie."
She pointed to the face of the compass-like
instrument before her. John felt very uncom-
fortable as the old woman peered at him from
eyes which, while they seemed almost sightless,
yet impressed one as being able to pierce the
secrets of the soul.
There are three things you wish to ask
about," she continued. “Look on the screen
and behold the answer to a question."
John looked toward the screen and saw what
appeared to be dim shadows forming there,
which gradually took on the shape of a banquet
table, and seated around it was a company of
men, among whom he recognized himself and


284
CONTENDING FORCES.
his friends William Smith and Doctor Lewis.
When you are at that table, in the company
of those men, you shall have the answer to
one of the questions you would ask me. Look
again,” she said, and John saw to his amaze-
ment that the cloth of which the screen was
made had resumed its color, and another shad-
owy outline was beginning to form. As he
gazed in wonder the outlines took shape before
his astonished eyes, and he saw the altar of a
church. Before a priest a man and woman
knelt in bridal dress. The man placed a ring
upon the woman's finger. As the picture
faded the faces of the couple were turned
toward him for one moment, and he recognized
Sappho Clark and Will Smith.
“Look again,” said the voice of the seeress.
He did so, and saw before him a noble ship;
on her deck stood a man and a woman. The
picture faded before he could distinguish the
features of either party. “These are all I am
permitted to show you now," said Madam
Frances. “These pictures contain the answers
to your questions."
“Do I understand them to mean that I shall
be defeated in my plans ? that I shall not
enjoy a part of the wealth which you see about
me?"
“ You will be defeated, and you will not enjoy





286
CONTENDING FORCES.
“For a pretty face,” croaked the parrot, rous-
ing himself from a nap as John left the room.
As he descended the stairs the words of the
parrot followed him:
Fools, fools; all men are fools for a pretty
face!”
John cursed his own folly in seeking the for-
tune-teller's aid as he went slowly back to his
office, puzzling over the things he had seen and
heard. He was a well-read man, and tried to
account for these strange things. He knew
from reading, the mediumistic powers of all
created things; he knew something of the won-
derful agencies of electricity and magnetism.
The appliances in the room had suggested
magnetism as the medium; "yet,” he argued,
the same phenomena might have been pro-
duced by the power of hypnotism.” He knew
enough of the latter to practice it in a way for
the amusement of his young friends, but had
thought himself impervious to its influence.
But with all his reasoning he could not con-
vince himself that there was not an intelli-
gence - invisible and intangible — that had
presented to him those soul-disturbing mani-
festations.
66


THE CANTERBURY CLUB DINNER.
287
CHAPTER XVII.
THE CANTERBURY CLUB DINNER.
ILL fares the land to hastening ills a prey,
Where wealth accumulates and men decay.
GOLDSMITH.
jag
The Canterbury Club of Boston, which held
its annual dinner on this particular evening,
was composed of the flower of Boston's literary
savans. At the rooms of the club men deep
in scientific research touched elbows with the
advanced theological scholar and the political
economist. Side by side with the vital ques-
tions of the hour in the world of progress —
wireless telegraphy, the philosophy of trusts,
the rise and fall of monarchies, the restoration
of Greek art, the philosophy of lynching was
beginning to engage the attention of two hemi-
spheres, and information was eagerly sought
from every reliable source.
Now it happened that the remarkable ability
of Smith in dealing with the acknowledged
difficulties of the question had been spoken of
to some of the members by the Hon. Herbert
Clapp, the president of the club. It had already
entertained Doctor Lewis, on account of his
great work as an educator among his people,


288
CONTENDING FORCES.
and John Langley because he was an impor-
tant factor in his line, doing the work neces-
sary to the life of any organization interested
in active politics with which men of a delicate
moral susceptibility could not be approached.
It was voted to invite young Smith to this din-
ner as a fresh and interesting specimen of the
Negro. Many fat contributions found their
way annually into the treasury of the African
School of Industrial and Agricultural Develop-
ment, which was under the able management
of Doctor Lewis, through the influence of this
club. He had accomplished great things; had
made himself the center of this terrible human
tragedy in the heart of the Black Belt, where
the college was situated; but the deadly antag-
onism of the South made even his iron-hearted
stoicism bow to its tyrannical decrees, insomuch
that he had been forced to compromise, and
the educational advantages allowed the pupils
had been curtailed to suit the views of those
who placed a low estimate on the ability of the
Negro, in spite of the many bright examples of
superior intellectual endowments which exist
among them. Such ideas as Doctor Lewis set
forth in his many brilliant speeches in behalf
of his people were logical, and showed a mind
capable of grasping the needs of the moment -
an infinity of powerful thought under a tyran-
nous self-suppression.


THE CANTERBURY CLUB DINNER.
289
“One man's meat is another man's poison."
The colored people north of Mason and Dixon's
line are conspicuous for their advancement
along all the lines which are distinctive features
in the formation of the polished exterior of the
good citizen of such a republic as ours. Among
the best circles of this community are found
the highest types of intellectual, moral, religious
and social improvement.
improvement. What becomes of
such a class as this when hampered by rules
and laws made to fit the needs of the Black
Belt? laws of life and living which cannot
be forced, and ought not to be forced, upon
the large class of colored citizens who embody
within themselves the highest development of
American citizenship? We believe that the
spirit of fair play is not yet dead in our beloved
country. We believe that there still exists be-
neath the seething cauldron of prejudice with
which the South would deluge the advance of
the Negro, brave hearts that will answer the
cry of distress with patriotic alacrity, and these
same brave hearts will demand for every black
face, North and South, the fullest opportunity
to develop whatever is best within him.
The young men had planned to go together.
Their entrance created a diversion; the English
member of Parliament who was the guestof honor


290
CONTENDING FORCES.
was much surprised, although too well-bred to
show it. Certainly they were fine specimens of
the genus homo, whose physique demanded
more than a passing glance of admiration.
Curious thoughts came to Mr. Withington, the
English guest; certain truths which, if appli-
cable to England, seemed doubly so to this
country, so new and untried, as it were, in the
changes and subtle uncertainties of govern-
ment and revolutions:
“And a proud yeomanry, its country's pride
When once destroyed can never be supplied."
Will the Republic learn the value of the
black children of her adoption when it is too
late?
The presence of these young Negroes was
generally received as a pleasant innovation
among that company. There was a senator
from Alabama present among the invited
guests, and for a moment he felt his color rise
and all the peculiar feelings of his section pro-
test and clamor to make themselves heard when
he found that he must perforce be brought into
social contact with the despised ex-slave repre-
sentatives. But he remembered, in time to
save himself from ridicule, that he was in Mas-
sachusetts. “What matter?” was his inward
thought, “ some day we shall change all this.”


THE CANTERBURY CLUB DINNER.
291
The first course was about over before Will
had a chance to look about him. He did not
feel at all overpowered by the grandeur dis-
played. The great room with its high walls
and ceiling of magnificently carved mahogany,
the massive brass chandeliers, composed of
hundreds of tiny electric lights which threw
their sparkling rays upon the exquisitely ap-
pointed table, with the priceless ware in which
the meal was served, the heavy scent of roses
which perfumed the air, the silent waiters glid-
ing in and out among the guests,- all seemed
the fantastic creation of a dream.
His neighbor happened to be Mr. Withing-
ton; his vis-a-vis, a noted editor; farther down
the table he recognized a foreign secretary
of legation; and so on. Conversation soon
became general; flashes of wit, satire, and dis-
cussions of rare value to the student - a sump-
tuous feast of good things. Above the click of
glasses he caught snatches of conversation :
“You may search through science and find
no evidence of the presence of God in the uni-
verse," declared the sharp, decisive voice of a
free-thinker, who was plunged in the midst of
an argument with a noted theologian of the
Episcopal faith. Will listened intently for the
answer. It came instantly:
“ How could it be otherwise ? God has a


292
CONTENDING FORCES.
subjective existence to man; therefore man
must get outside of himself to know God; in
fact, man must die to attain God."
“Ah, there you go, with your mythological
argument! You cover the clear statement of a
fact with a veil of mysticism.”
“Very true; but what is the soul, mentality,
existence itself, but a living mysticism?” re-
plied the clergyman.
The whole room had becom interested by
this time, and watched the play of cultured
thought and keen argument with great relish.
" It is only when the subjective part of man
exists as a distinct entity, then, that you think
the presence of God is made clear to him?"
“Yes,” replied the clergyman; “for the final
end of man is the beginning of spirituality, or
the true knowledge of God.”
“Ah, but if we let reason speak, we find the
flaws in your theory, and your ground becomes
untenable. I look forward to the day which
coming years shall usher in, when all the dis-
coveries which are being made each year, and
the general diffusion of scientific knowledge,
shall revolutionize thought, and place God and
man on an entirely different plane from that
which they now occupy.
“And what is this reason or thought which
you feel will do so much ? It is but a loan from


THE CANTERBURY CLUB DINNER.
293
the Almighty, whose existence you affect to
doubt. Man has no title to the property until
he has permission to hold it eternally.”
“And then ?"
“He must have satisfied the Almighty that
he is worthy."
Presently Will plunged into the conversation,
impelled thereto by a certain philosophical ref-
erence with which he was familiar, and which
he had studied with great interest.
" What do you think of reason and religion,
Mr. Smith ?” asked the free-thinker, impressed
with the intelligence of his comments. “Are
you one with the rest of your race in believing
all this talk of spirituality ?”
“I believe that reason and religion must act
together to discover the perfect power and
glory of God,” replied Will modestly. (All eyes
were for the moment bent upon him.) “There
is perfect harmony between them; and it is
our own shortsightedness which causes us to
doubt.”
“Do you not believe that by seeking knowl-
edge, and dedicating life to the welfare of man-
kind and obedience to God in our several
vocations, our best faculties will be gratified?
wealth, fame, health, and all other good things
will flow in a stream, and our delight remain
permanent?" asked Doctor Lewis at this stage
of the argument.


THE CANTERBURT CLUB DIVXER.
295
liberty by petty pilfering or an overflow of re-
ligious enthusiasm, but the Negro has changed,
whether you realize it or not; times. have will
changed, and the Negro with them."
There was a murmur of applause as he
finished speaking.
"Well," returned the Southerner, “we will
grant that some of you are making progress,
but you cannot claim that as a race you are
capable of becoming such examples of matt-
hood as you and your friends. To most of you
the mystery of government will always remain
a mystery; and the hope of assimilating many
things which are second nature to the white
man, will never become a reality to your race."
“I believe that the same rules which govern
all races will be applicable to mine,” returned
Will. "If men are rude and foolish, down they
must go. When at last in any race a new
principle appears, an idea, that conserves it.
Ideas only save races.
If the black man is
feeble and impotent, unimportant to the exist-
ing races — not on a parity with the best races,
the black man must serve and be exterminated.
But, if he carries within his bosom the element
of a new and coming civilization, he will sur-
vive and play his part.”
Hear, hear!” cried the foreign secretary of
legation, applauding vigorously, delighted at


296
CONTENDING FORCES.
race.
the strong, combative style in which the brave
young fellow met the ancient enemy of his
No race is hopelessly lost to the world
of progress that produces such manly speci-
mens within fifty years of emancipation.”
“England is troubled over the fact that the
two races do not mix, and to all appearances
never will,” now joined in Mr. Withington.
"There seems to be no common ground be-
tween them; they cannot live together har-
moniously. Can you, gentlemen, explain this
to me? I should like to carry back with me,
when I return, a clear realization of the facts
in the case as viewed by each party to the
question. That is part of my mission in this
country.”
" It is true,” said Doctor Lewis, "that our
condition is alarming to a degree. Over ten
thousand graves made since the war by mob
violence, are dotting the South, and of these
ninety per cent are the graves of black men."
“You do not get these facts abroad because
newspaper reports are doctored by local South-
ern writers who participate in the lynchings.
Free speech and public discussions are not
allowed. In the South you must think and
speak as the mob dictates," here chimed in
John Langley.
“But surely you have constitutional equity


THE CANTERBURY CLUB DINNER.
297
before the law? you can gain redress from the
Federal government?”
"Constitutional equity is a political fiction,”
laughed Will.
Reconstruction is a failure, then?” asked
Mr. Withington.
Reconstruction is not a failure, although
the whole South will tell you so, and the North
is being persuaded to so believe; the Negro
was the living force which rent asunder the
old methods of the slave-holding states and
brought them out into the healthful light of
decent, God-fearing living. But they are trying
to take all the credit for the good we may have
done them, from us. The lines are drawn more
sharply than before the emancipation. Con-
stitutional amendments are dead letters; the
ballot-box is nil,” replied Will.
"All of which goes to show that race is
stronger than law," broke in the Southerner.
“Rather that barbarism is superior to civil.
ization.”
“What about the crime of rape ?” asked Mr.
Withington.
“In nine cases out of ten,” replied Lewis,
" you will find that the Negro is guiltless of this
awful crime. It is brought forward to alienate
the sympathy of all decent men from us. It is
a crime that strikes the home ties, and as such


298
CONTENDING FORCES.
is the most deadly weapon that has yet been
used against us. We invite investigation in
this direction, and you will then find that it is
not a characteristic of the black man, although
it is of the white man of the South.”
“You cannot prove your assertions !” ex-
claimed the Southerner, white with passion.
“ I can.”
“Name a case."
John Thomas of Georgia."
“He was guilty, and deserved his fate. You,
gentlemen, must have heard the story of the
atrocities committed by that man.
The wo-
man's husband was brutally murdered and she
was assaulted. We made the fate of the black
devil a terrible example for the rest of his kind
in Georgia."
“Do you not know that that story has
been proven false all through? It was this
way, gentlemen : After the man Thomas was
lynched, the colored people were convinced of
his innocence. A sum of money was raised by
subscription to hire the services of a reputable
detective to investigate the matter. He visited
the scene of the alleged crime, and it was found
that Thomas worked for Cragen on his farm.
Thomas heard that his mother was sick, and
wished to visit her; having no money, he
applied to Cragen for his pay. This enraged


TIIE CANTERBURY CLUB DINNER.
299
the latter, and he drew his revolver to shoot
the Negro. Quick as a flash Thomas seized
an axe which happened to be lying near, and
struck Cragen, killing him instantly. He then
fled to the woods. Mrs. Cragen says that
Thomas did not assault her; she never saw
him.”
“ And for defending himself they lynched
him?” said Mr. Withington, with a look on his
face which expressed incredulous astonish-
ment, combined with disgust.
“ Yes; that was the detective's report, given
under oath. What the man suffered at the
hands of the lynchers could only be equalled
by the sufferings of the martyrs of Nero's time.
If every case of Negro lynching could be inves-
tigated, we should discover fearful discrepancies
between the story of the mob and the real
truth."
That does not prove that white men are
ravishers," said the Southerner, returning to
the charge.
"Oh,” replied Will, with a significant shrug
of the shoulders, “take the representatives of
my race who are with you tonight. How did
we get our complexions, soft curls and regular
features ? Our ancestors were black, flat-feat-
ured, and had many other racial marks. Your
race does not intermarry with Negroes, does
66


300
CONTENDING FORCES.
it? That being the case, the answer is self-
evident."
“Do you not think, then, that under the cir.
cumstances the Government ought to assist the
Negro to leave the country?” asked Mr. With-
ington.
"Never!” cried Will, with glowing counte-
nance, “Never! Here where we have been so
outrageously maligned, let us refute the charge
like men !"
That sounds well,” said the Southerner with
a sneer,“ but how will you do it?”
By using the methods of the South,” replied
Will quickly; "create sentiment for the race
and against its detractors.”
“And if you get nothing else out of it, the
agitators will do a good business and fill their
pockets with money."
Agitation will do much,” said Will calmly,
unruffled by the other's display of anger. “ It
gave us freedom; it will give us manhood.
The peace, dignity and honor of this nation
rises or falls with the Negro. Frederic
Douglas once said: 'Ultimately this nation
will be composite. There is a strong demand
- a growing demand for a government capa-
ble of protecting all its citizens - rich and
poor, white and black — alike.' The causes for
such a government still exist. It remains to be
seen if the prophecy will be fulfilled.”


THE CANTERBURY CLUB DINNER.
301
One of the founders of the American Acad-
emy at Rome was present, and conversation
now turned upon the development of Ameri-
can talent in art. The political aspect of Great
Britain in South Africa and the complications
likely to arise therefrom was another interest-
ing topic, but under it all the sentiment ex-
pressed and the words spoken by the repre-
sentatives of an humble race that night lingered
in the heart of each scholar and thinker who
had heard them.
Will had a pressing engagement, and was
obliged to excuse himself to the president of
the club. He withdrew as quietly as possible.
Those nearest him shook him warmly by the
hand, and told him that they hoped to hear
from him again, and soon, on the same interest-
ing topic.
Mr. Withington now attached himself to John
Langley for the remainder of the evening, seem-
ing well pleased to find himself in such com-
pany. As they bade each other good-night at
the close of the festivities he said to John, as he
placed his card in his hand:
“I leave tomorrow for Canada, on business
connected with the Home Office. I may never
return to this country, but I want you to be-
lieve that I am deeply interested in the welfare
of your people. Write to me whatever comes


302
COXTENDIXG FORCES,
up of importance to the race, and I will do
what I can to make sentiment in my own coun-
try for you, and as far as money will go, you
shall have the benefit of the help it will give.”
John bade him good-by, and even his con-
servative heart was warmed by contact with so
good a man. After he had reached his room
he took the card from his pocket, and before
putting it in a place of safety read the address:
CHARLES MONTFORT-WITHINGTON, M. P.
BLANKSHIRE,
ENGLAND.
For a long time he sat there staring at the card
in his hand. Where had he heard that name
before ? “Charles Montfort!” Why, it was
the family name of Mrs. Smith! Instantly the
words of Madam Frances came to his mind,
and a great light seemed to illumine his
thoughts: “When you are at that table in the
company of those men, you shall have the
answer to one of the questions you would ask
me.”
How often he had listened to the story told
by Ma Smith with an incredulous smile. It
had seemed to him the idle boasting of a mind
entering its dotage. Charles Montfort !- and
from England! Heavens! if there should be
truth in this fairy tale !


WHAT EASTER SUNDAY BROUGHT.
303
CHAPTER XVIII.
WHAT EASTER SUNDAY BROUGHT.
'Twas Easter Sunday. The full-blossomed trees
Filled all the air with fragrance and with joy.
· LONGFELLOW
The days passed very quietly at No. 500 D
Street. The excitement occasioned by the fair,
and the extraordinary agitation which had
attended the meeting of the American Colored
League, had somewhat abated. Softer thoughts
and feelings had taken possession of the pub-
lic mind, for it was very near to the celebration
of Easter. The two girls, Dora and Sappho,
felt restrained in their intercourse because,
although by tacit consent nothing was said of
John's treacherous condurt toward Dora, each
knew that the other had discovered it. Dora
felt aggrieved and ill-treated; and who could
blame her? Doctor Lewis was drawn into the
trouble through his attachment to Dora. He
pitied her injured feelings; he knew that if she
were free and he offered her his love, it would
be accepted, and he was not too proud to have
done this if it had been an honorable act. He
knew that it would not be an honorable act to


304
CONTENDING FORCES.
ask her to break her promise to Langley at this
stage of the drama, but within his heart hope
grew stronger each day. He saw that John
was hopelessly infatuated with Sappho; he saw
Dora knew this and resented the wrong done
herself, although as yet she could hardly put
her thoughts into words. Day-dreams began
to break in upon the dull monotony of his
methodical existence; he watched the signs of
growing discontent with all a lover's impatience
to grasp the happiness which he felt would,
after a time, be his. He was willing to work,
to wait, to serve, if only he might claim her
love at last. Oh,the nobleness of a good man's
love! If women would but prize it, how many
more happy homes we should see, and how
much brighter the world and life would be.
Toward Langley he was savage; and then, too,
he was puzzled.
One night they were all invited to attend a
reception given at the house of a friend. He
was with Dora and John. Dora addressed a
remark to John, and receiving no answer,
turned to look in his face for the reason. His
gaze was fixed upon Sappho, who was sur-
rounded by every eligible man in the house.
And such a look! love - hatred -tenderness
- the gamut of passion was disclosed by the
look bent upon the. unconscious girl before


WHAT EASTER SUNDAY BROUGHT.
305
them. Dora shuddered as if a chill had struck
her, and turning to Lewis held a cold and
trembling little hand appealingly toward him.
He took it gladly into his firm and loving
clasp, and tenderly asked her if she would like
to go home. She grasped the offer instantly
with evident relief. She left John's side to
seek the ladies' dressing-room for her wraps;
he, absorbed in thoughts of Sappho, did not
miss her presence. Lewis sent word to Will
that he was taking Dora home because she was
feeling very tired. He apologized to the host-
ess, engineered all the delicate details of social
life with neatness and dispatch, and met the
harassed girl at the foot of the staircase, ready
to lead her home without arousing disagreeable
comment.
" What does the beggar mean?” he asked
himself more than once that night. “He does
not seem inclined to give Dora up, and yet he
is completely gone 'over the other one." But,
like a prudent man, he said nothing; he kept
his own counsel and watched.
Since the meeting at which Sappho had
fainted, the girl had grown more silent and
depressed. People said: “Yes, she is beau-
tiful, but so cold and silent."
She and Will had scarcely spoken since the
night of the fair, but each felt and knew that


306
CONTENDING FORCES.
it would be but a short time before the story
of their love must be settled for good and all.
So the days crept by and brought the crisis
of these lives, so strangely interwoven.
Easter Sunday fell early in April that year.
The city had donned its gayest attire to wel-
come the return of the celebration of Christ's
triumphal resurrection. The morning service
was ended. The exultant organ peals, the glo-
rious strains of hymns of victory poured forth
by highly trained voices in hundreds of aug.
mented church choirs all over the city, still
seemed to vibrate upon the listening air even
after the churches had given up their crowds
of worshippers. Sappho had been to the mis-
sion church of St. Augustine, on P. Street, at
the West End. Here the good Fathers of the
Mission of St. John had reared a church, and
elected to bend their efforts particularly to the
salvation and upraising of the poorest of God's
children. This church, with its beautiful silver
chimes, given by a wealthy Boston woman in
commemoration of the life and services of the
lamented Bishop Brooks, is destined to stand
for ages as a memorial of the deeds of philan-
thropy which have always been a distinguish.
ing feature of the true spirit of Massachusetts.
The sound of the bells lingered with her like


308
CONTENDING FORCES.
upon the advancing figure of the girl he loved
he felt his heart swell within him, and tender
thrills of joy filled his soul, too full for utter-
ance. He noticed that she wore a bunch of
violets today, instead of her favorite Jacks.
They were more in keeping with the sentiment
of the day. There they rested in a splendid
cluster upon her breast – modest and beauti.
fully fragrant. “As sweet as a violet herself,'
he thought, as he murmured to himself:
“The breeze runs riot with thy charms,
O faint, delicious, springtime violet!"
As a man Will Smith was not ashamed of
the passion which consumed him. An honor.
able love has its own subtle charm. Now was
his opportunity! The almost deserted paths
were secure from intrusion. She was not in-
different to him; today should end suspense.
He would have her answer.
Sappho caught sight of him directly she
entered the path. She hesitated — turned -
then stood still, as if conscious of his resolu-
tion. He saw her hesitation, and read her
thoughts by virtue of that harmony which is
love's perfection. He arose and stood before
her, hat in hand. His apparent coolness and
self-possession did what he intended it should:
restored her calmness; and when she placed


310
CONTENDING FORCES.
And Jacob loved Rachel; and said, I will
serve thee seven years for thy younger daugh-
ter,'” quoted Will softly, as he looked at the
gentle face and downcast eyes beside him.
Sappho said nothing, but gazed intently at the
landscape with unseeing eyes, as she nervously
clasped and unclasped her delicately gloved
hands. Suddenly she felt one small hand
drawn within a strong, warm clasp.
“ There are shadows on your face; why are
they there? You think all kinds of sad
thoughts. Tell them to me, Sappho.”
“Nay,” she said at length, “why should I?
they are not clear even to myself. You would
not understand my vagaries. Why should you
be bothered with them?"
“ Because, Sappho, my beautiful one, my
darling, I love you — surely you know it - I
have loved you from the first moment that
I saw you. Be my wife, my blessing.”
She did not answer; her face had grown very
white.
“Have I frightened you? Do not think me
cruel, Sappho; you do not know how much I
love you.
She was still silent, but another look satisfied
him that she was not angry. The gloved hand
stopped fluttering, and lay quietly within his
clasp.


WHAT EASTER SUNDAY BROUGHT.
311
"You do not think me presumptuous ? You
are not angry? Tell me that you love me.”
"Wait one moment,” she said; and then he
saw that she was trembling violently.
“Don't you care for me a little ?” he asked
anxiously, “or have I been living in a fool's
paradise the past two months ? "
“ I do care for you,” she whispered, in a voice
so low that only a lover could have heard it.
“Ah!” he cried impetuously; "then I will
never let you go!”
“Ah, Will, I wonder if it is right for me to
love you, or to allow you to love me?”
“Most decidedly it is right. Why do you
doubt?”
"You have known me such a short time," she
protested.
" I know that you are the dearest girl in all
the world to me," he replied, holding her hand
still more tightly clasped. “You are mine now,
and nothing shall part us. I shall always re-
member this day as the happiest of my life.
You do not know how dearly I love you."
"I shall know if you persist in telling me so
often,” she said, smiling at his impetuosity.
“ Heaven bless you, Sappho, my dearest. I
shall never tire of ringing the changes on love."
"Why should you care so much for me?”
she asked wistfully. "I have no family - no
friends - no money'


312
CONTENDING FORCES.
“I have family enough for both of us,” he
returned quickly. “My mother loves you, my
sister adores you; what more is there to be
desired ?"
“ But there are things which you ought to
know — things connected with the past
“I do not care for the past,” he broke in; "all
I ask is that you love me above all other men,
as I adore you above all other women."
She was carried away by the vehemence
of his wooing. All obstacles seemed, indeed,
but trifles before this all-absorbing, passionate,
eager warmth of youth's first love. Poor soul!
poor starved and storm-beaten heart! Some-
thing of life that was dead leaped again into
existence and loosened the icy hand that had
for years locked up the fountain of youthful
joy. She felt drawn out of herself as she looked
into the eyes of love and met the luminous
light which transfigured the face of her lover.
“ Ask me no more; thy fate and mine are sealed :
I strove against the stream and all in vain ;
Let the great river take me in the main :
No more, dear love, for at a touch I yield;
Ask me no more."
Silently she turned to him and placed the
other hand within his clasp, and burst into a
tempest of weeping.


WHAT EASTER SUNDAY BROUGHT.
313
Sappho!” he cried, in a transport of delight,
as he tried to dry her tears; “ my darling, my
wife!"
O happy Easter Day!
They sat there a long time in heart com-
munion, reviewing the history of their short
acquaintance, and the wonderful thing that had
happened to them. They planned that Sappho
should stay with Will's mother while he went
abroad, and then when his course was finished
they would be married immediately upon his
return. They would keep their sweet secret
a little while. They could not share this hal-
lowed day with others. It was consecrated and
holy to them because of its dear association
with the hidden stream of their united lives.
John Langley was returning from an errand
down town, and attracted by the beauty of the
morning, determined to cross the Garden on
his way to the South End. Suddenly, beneath
the trees he espied the lovers. He paused a
moment. They were so much absorbed in each
other that they had not seen him. He turned
aside into a path which ran very near to them
on one side, and paused beneath the shadow of
some friendly trees where he was secure from
observation and could watch their movements
unseen,


314
CONTENDING FORCES.
The happy light on Will's expressive counte-
nance did not escape him; he noted, too, the
shy happiness and deep, tender love which
shone in Sappho's eyes. His heart was on fire
with hot, jealous rage, and he resolved that
their marriage should never take place. He
was not sure of Sappho's past, but he would
try a bold maneuvre and trust to luck. He
would accuse her as though certain of the facts.
If that did not work, he would try some other
game. He who had laughed at love without
money, found himself even contemplating the
sacrifice of one for the other, if dishonest means
should not succeed in winning her. He
watched them for a time, and then, judging by
their movements that they were about to leave
the spot, turned reluctantly away, planning
ways and means of bringing his schemes to a
successful issue.
Sappho had been taking her meals with the
family lately, but tonight she excused herself
from dinner on the plea of a headache. Will
had gone back to the hotel.
"Headache must be a great cosmetic," said
Dora slyly. She had seen that Will and
Sappho returned from morning church together
and from certain signs had drawn her own
conclusions about how matters stood between


WHAT EASTER SUNDAY BROUGHT.
315
them. “I never remember seeing you look
better or more beautiful than you do tonight.”
Sappho laughed joyously as she ran lightly up
the stairs to her room. Tomorrow they would
know her secret.
She glanced at her mirror as she passed it.
Where was the usually pale, sad face that
it reflected ? They called her cold and proud.
What would the world say if it could see that
brilliant, vivid, flashing beauty that the mirror
gave back to her astonished gaze? Truly love
was a wonderful cosmetic. She sank into the
inviting willow rocker, and for a while gave
herself up to the happiness which was so intense
as to be almost painful. There was no thought
of evil mingled with the joy that wrapped her
round about. No forebodings assailed her; the
intoxication of the moment was complete.
She was lost in dreamland as she sat there
thinking of her lover. Will had said to her:
“I am not a man to hold love lightly; it is no
jest with me. My love is the one woman in
the whole world to me above all others.
shall love you living and dying, and be true
to you in life and death.” The words rang in
her ears like sweetest music.
There were extra services at all the colored
churches that night, because owing to the fact
that most of the worshippers were employed as
I


316
CONTENDING FORCES.
domestic servants, evening was the only time
convenient for their employers to spare their
services. She heard the outer door close upon
one after another until the house settled down
to the perfect quiet of solitude.
She then arose from her seat and proceeded
to change her street attire for a pale blue cash-
mere house dress with delicate ecru lace at the
throat and wrists. She hummed strains of the
Gloria heard that morning in church as she
stood before the glass and took the pins from
her hair. The shining coil of burnished gold
fell almost to her feet. So she stood with the
brushes poised in air as the door opened softly
and John Langley came quickly into her room.
Thus they stood for a brief second of time:
she colorless with amazement and fear; he
overwhelmed with the exquisiteness of the
picture before him. The brushes falling from
her hands broke the silence. Anger flamed in
her eyes.
"I did not hear you knock, Mr. Langley;
what can I do for you?”
His face was pale, his eyes wavering and
bloodshot; his whole expression indicated a
terrible determination. The almost insulting
coldness of her tone exasperated him,
"I did not knock,” he replied, as he stepped
into the room. “You do not offer me a seat,"
he sneered, as he sat down on the couch.


WHAT EASTER SUNDAY BROUGHT.
317
“This is hardly the time or place for parlor
civilities,” she replied significantly. “Do you
not know that the house is empty ?”
“I do; and as I wish to speak with you
privately, and as this is my only chance, I will
not let it slip me,” said John.
Really! I cannot understand what private
business you can have with me,” returned
Sappho haughtily; “but if it be so, pray state
the nature of it as quickly as possible.”
“I will," he replied. He paused a moment,
as if collecting his forces. “You and Will
seem to have come to an understanding, judg-
ing by what I saw on the Public Garden this
morning,” he said finally.
Sappho flushed warmly as she replied: " And
in what way does that concern you?”
The girl looked so beautiful and spirited that
he longed to crush her with the weight of his
surmises.
" Will Smith is a very proud man as well as
a very just man. His pride of family is his
besetting sin. Do you think that it will be
for his best interest to marry you ?” he asked
significantly
“And why should it not be?” questioned the
girl haughtily, although a hand of ice seemed
closing about her heart.
“ You can best answer that question,” was the
guarded reply.


318
CONTENDING FORCES.
“Mr. Langley, your intrusion into my private
apartment is unpardonable; your innuendoes
are still more so. If you have anything to say,
please say it; if not, let us close this remark-
able interview." She moved toward the door
as if to open it. In an instant he seized her
arm and stopped her.
“Do not be rash. It is better for you to
listen to me and not arouse my enmity. thave
seen Luke Sawyer, and I know your secret -
MABELLE BEAUBEAN !
The attack was so sudden she did not think
of defending herself. He had never in his life
seen emotion so terrible depicted upon the
human countenance as her face presented at
that moment. She shrank from him with
shivering dread, beating the air with both
hands, as though in her agony she warded off
the approach of some gruesome apparition.
"Not that name - not that name !" she
gasped, as she turned her beautiful, ghastly face
from side to side, as though seeking air. She
seemed about to faint. Then she sank upon
the floor and literally grovelled there, her face
hidden by the long hair which enveloped her
like a veil.
John was nonplussed at the perfect success
of his plot; he was exultant. The terror of
the girl was awful to behold. Surely he had
She must turn to him for help.
her now.


320
CONTENDING FORCES.
“Doubtless you mean it in kindness," replied
the girl wearily, “and I thank you, but I can
never marry anyone but Will.”
“Marriage !” exclaimed John, “who spoke
of marriage? Ambitious men do not marry
women with stories like yours ! ”
At last the murder was out — his meaning
clear!
For one moment Sappho was speechless with
disgust.
" Infamous villain!" she said at length, "you
abuse my forlorn condition. Leave me! Never
till this moment have I realized the depths of
my degradation !"
“I go at your command,” said John. “I give
you one week to think over what I have said.
At the end of that time”
“Go! go! will you go?" interrupted Sappho,
pointing to the door with queenly dignity.
With a low bow John Langley passed out
and closed the door behind him.
Sappho turned the key in the lock and sank
upon the couch overcome with the horror of
her situation. Nervous spasms shook her frame
as she mentally measured the abyss of social
ostracism and disgrace which confronted her.
A thunderbolt from a clear sky had shattered
her hopes and dashed the cup of happiness
from her lips. Heartrending sobs of anguish


"GO! (;n! WILT, YOU GO?" INTERRUPTED) SAPPIO.





WHAT EASTER SUNDAY BROUGHT.
321
mingled with passionate appeals to heaven for
mercy, tore her frame as she contemplated this
sudden overthrow of her dreams of a bright
future. The quiet which had attended her life
since she had settled in Boston was rudely inter-
rupted, and the ruin which threatened her was
the more stupendous because unlooked for in
the direction from which it came.
She got up at length, and going to the dress-
ing-table, began mechanically to collect her
jewelry. She caught sight of her face in the
glass. What a change from the glowing beauty
of one short hour ago! She looked at the pale,
drawn countenance with scorn. “Men call me
beautiful,” she murmured bitterly; "what has
beauty been to me but a curse ? ”
She heard the closing of doors and the voices
of the returned church-goers. Could it be pos-
sible that she was the same happy girl whose
smiling face had been given back from the mir-
ror so radiantly a short hour ago ? She heard
the front door close again. It was Will's step
upon the stair. He paused at her door a moment,
and then passed on to the floor above. How
often she had listened for that familiar tread.
Her heart kept repeating: “Never again -
never again.'
Two hours later deep silence had fallen upon
the house. A form attired in black, closely


322
CONTENDING FORCES.
veiled, and carrying a traveling bag, passed from
No. 500 D Street into the night, boarded an
electric car, and was swallowed up in the heart
of the metropolis.
Will in his room had fallen into his first sleep
when he thought he heard the sound of noise-
less footsteps in the hall. He listened a
moment, and then concluded that he was mis-
taken. Who could be moving through the
house at that hour? No, he was mistaken.
His thoughts were all with Sappho. He lived
over again the words and scenes of the morn-
ing. He heard the clocks strike twelve, one,
two; then he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.


THE BITTER ARROW.
323
CHAPTER XIX.
THE BITTER ARROW.
O, BREAKING heart that will not break,
Oriana !
O, pale, pale face so sweet and meek,
Oriana!
-TENNYSON.
The next morning found the household early
astir. It is a rule in hotels that a “late watch,"
as it is called, exempts the employee from an
early appearance for duty the next morning.
On these mornings Will breakfasted with his
mother and sister. Since Sappho had boarded
with them this humble meal had become a feast
to him.
He arose very early on this eventful Mon-
day morning and hurried down the stairs, burst-
ing to impart his good news to the sympathetic
ears of his loved ones. He entered the kitchen
just as Dora was laying the cloth for breakfast.
“What in the world brings you down so
early? ” she asked in a surprised tone as he
entered the room.
Oh, I couldn't stay in bed this morning of
all others,” he said, as he kissed her lightly
on the cheek; “I am too happy.”
66


THE BITTER ARROW.
325
66
Yes, Dora, dear,” replied the voice of Ma
Smith, “just a minute!”
Oh, hurry, hurry, mummie; it won't keep.”
“Yes, yes, you excitable child; what is it?"
Nothing wrong with your brother” – she
stopped as she caught sight of his smiling face.
He went up to her and took her in his strong
young arms he was an affectionate son.
“Nothing wrong, mummie dear, but your boy
is very happy. Will you have Sappho for a
second daughter?”
Gladly, my son,” replied his mother; and
then she sank upon a chair, overcome as she
comprehended the full meaning of his words.
"Why do you cry, mother dear, if the idea
is not unpleasant to you?” asked Will, some-
what alarmed by her tears.
“Oh, Will, my boy, you will not let this new
love cause you to forget the love of your old
mother?"
"Never!” cried Will, as he pressed his lips
to the sweet old face. “I would not be worthy
of happiness could I be so ungrateful.”
" Don't mind mother, Will; she cries on
principle, because it is the proper thing for
weddings and funerals. Isn't that so, mummie
mine?” laughed Dora, as she wiped a suspi.
cious moisture from her own eyes.
“But what keeps Sappho so late? she's gen-


326
CONTENDING FORCES.
erally down by this time,” she continued, with
a glance at the little Swiss clock on the mantel.
I'm going up stairs after the laggard, and
have it out with her for keeping such news to
herself. I know she's bashful.”
Dora sprang up the stairs with a bound, and
paused outside the door to rap. Receiving no
answer she rapped again, and then tried the
handle of the door. It yielded to her touch,
and then she noticed that the key was on the
outside. She threw the door open with a vague
sense of something unusual in such a proceed-
ing. The room was empty. She paused a mo-
ment in bewilderment as she glanced about her,
and then saw the bed undisturbed in its snowy
smoothness. Thoroughly alarmed now, she
ran to the head of the stairs and called her
brother.
Wondering what could be the trouble, Will
hurried from the kitchen, closely followed by his
mother. Upstairs they found Dora standing
in the middle of the room with a frightened
face.
"I found the key on the outside, the door
unlocked. She is not here; and see, the bed
has not been slept in; the closet door is open;
some of her clothing is gone, and all her
jewelry.”
Will stood beside her, gazing about the cozy
nest with troubled eyes,


THE BITTER ARROW.
327
“When did you see her last ?” he asked
finally.
“At dinner yesterday; she complained of a
headache, and went to her room to lie down.”
“She was here at half-past eleven, when I
came in, for I saw a light in her window as
I came down the street."
“Well, children, there is nothing to worry
about,” said Mrs. Smith; "she has probably
gone out and will return shortly. There can't
be any great mystery about her absence.”
Just then the door-bell rang.
“There she is now," said Will, as he bounded
down the stairs in answer to the summons.
The two women stood expectant, waiting for
the sound of her voice. They heard nothing
but the closing of the door and Will's steps
returning. Presently he stood before them
with a letter in his hand.
“ It is for me,” he said, in answer to their
looks of inquiry. “I think it is from Sappho.”
His face was ashen; his hands trembled.
He turned the square package over once-
again — then mechanically, as in a dream, he
tore the envelope open. The anxious women
watched him as he ran his eyes rapidly over
the written page, and then with a groan sank
into a chair.
What is it, Will? what has happened ?


328
COXTENDIXG FORCES.
cried his mother and sister with one voice.
Great drops of perspiration stood upon his
forehead.
“O my God!” was his reply to the agonized
entreaties of the two women. He threw his
arms upon the desk beside him and dropped
his head upon them. The letter fell upon the
floor.
Mrs. Smith was a great sufferer from nery-
ous weakness. Seeing her son's unhappiness,
she began to tremble and sob hysterically.
Dora was badly frightened; but knowing that
she must be calm for all their sakes, said:
“Mother, calm yourself. Do you not see
that Will needs help?” She closed the open
door to keep out curious intruders who might
possibly be about, and then she picked up the
letter.
“Read it!" groaned Will; “I can never tell
you."
Dora read it aloud:
Will:
When you
receive this I shall be far away.
What I am
writing to you I ought to have told your family long ago.
It must forever stand between us and marriage.
You remember the story told the night of the public
meeting of the League by Luke Sawyer — the night I
fainted ? I am the unfortunate Mabelle Beaubean!
I did not die. The good Sisters gave out that story


THE BITTER ARROW.
329
man
a woman.
in order to destroy my identity. Madam Frances is my
grand-aunt. The boy Alphonse is my child! O my God!
how can I live and write these words ?
John Langley came to my room tonight, after every-
one was at church. He has found out my story, and has
offered me the greatest insult that a can give
He has made me realize how much such a
marriage with me would injure you. Disgrace shall
never touch you or yours through me.
Forgive me for deceiving you — for loving you ; it is
all the wrong that I have done you.
o love my love — how can I give you up? You
will never know the bitterness of the step I am taking!
SAPPHO.
Mrs. Smith shuddered as she listened to the
words being read. Could it be possible that
this strange, unexpected confession had come
from the beautiful girl they knew so well?
Dora was weeping bitterly when she finished;
so was her mother. They sat there stunned
into silence. Every pulse beat at fever-heat in
Will's body. His nerves were strained almost
beyond endurance; they were a thousand
needle-points of pain. How could he bear this
terrible news that had come to him! Luke
Sawyer's story was written before his eyes in
letters of fire. He saw with acute clairvoyant
sight the beautiful child - the brutal captor-
the horrid surroundings of the vile den to which
he had consigned her - her struggles within


330
CONTENDING FORCES.
the brutal grasp - all the sickening details of
that horrible violation of chastity were mir-
rored within his brain. Time could never
eradicate them. God of heaven! how could
he bear to think that his beautiful Sappho —
his pure girl-love, had been subjected to such
brutality! And then the child! Agony of
agonies! He could not suffer more and live!
There was something awe-inspiring in his
great affliction to the women who loved him.
Dismal silence had seized upon them all.
Then a sob - dreadful to hear – broke from
Will. He staggered across the room and fell
on his knees by his mother's side and buried
his face in the folds of her dress. It was a way
he had in early childhood when anything dis-
tressed him. Then his mother comforted him
as in childhood days – his head upon her ten-
der breast — her dear wrinkled hands, as if in
blessing, resting upon his grief-stricken brow.
At length Dora broke the silence.
Oh, that poor, miserable girl! think of her
sufferings — of the weight of the secret she
carried with her. What a crucifixion for a
proud spirit like hers! This terrible curse of
slavery! shall we never lose the sting of deg-
radation? Think of John, too! How did he
find it out? what a heartless scamp he must
be! I confess the whole thing is an enigma to
me.”


THE BITTER ARROW.
331
"To think she should believe us capable of
feeling anything for her but sympathy! You
must find her, Will, and bring her back home,”
said Ma Smith.
Yes, mother; but any girl would act as she
has. Think of her humiliation to be obliged to
own such a story to her lover! I do not won-
der that she turned a coward and fed. But
Will will find her, never fear.”
Will had regained something of self-control.
But what a change had come to that debo-
nair countenance! Dora's heart ached as she
looked at him. He arose from his knees by
his mother's side and stood a moment as if
bewildered.
“I am going to hire the best detective in the
city to find her. But first I will settle with
John Langley,” he said at last.
“Give him this !” cried Dora, snatching her
engagement ring from her finger. “Tell him I
hope never to see his face again.”
Poor little sister. Must you suffer, too?”
“Don't pity me, Will!” she exclaimed with
flashing eyes. “I am well rid of such a man.
Will kissed them both solemnly and went
out.
The two women, left alone, went softly about
the pretty room folding away the scattered
articles of wearing apparel, which they watered
66


THE BITTER ARROW.
333
Fortunately it happened that it was an hour
when the inmates of No. 500 D Street were
busy attending to their various vocations. No
one need know more of Sappho's disappear-
ance than the family felt to tell. They made
one exception to this resolve. It was about
ten o'clock when Doctor Lewis called. The
mother and daughter were just sitting down
to the meal so sadly interrupted. In answer to
questions asked in friendly solicitude because
of their troubled looks, the whole miserable
story came out.
“It is fortunate that I happened in," he said,
when he had heard all they could tell him.
“I will go right down to Langley's office.
It is useless to allow more trouble to grow out
of this unhappy affair. Those men must not
meet alone.”
Amazed, startled, dumbfounded at this
romance in real life, he hurried away toward
the business portion of the city. But under
his anxiety to serve his friends, who could
blame him if thoughts of the broken engage-
ment and all that it meant to him would
intrude upon him? His heart kept singing :
“Free to be won - free to be won."
John had risen early and left the house
before any one was astir. He could not sleep.


334
CONTENDING FORCES.
Up and down the deserted streets he paced,
gazing at the silent stars and baring his head
to the cold, refreshing breeze of the April morn-
ing Haunted - tormented - conscience not
yet sufficiently seared to commit so mean an
act without regret, would be heard. What if
the girl should defy him - expose him! He
cursed his own folly, her beauty, his own infatu-
ation. Turn as he would, he could not shut
out the beautiful, despairing face.
“And there rises ever a passionate cry
From underneath in the darkened land"
There is something magical in the mystery
of night and the shadows of early dawn. Then
the mystery of creation and our own hidden
nature seem to be revealed faintly to our dull
sensibilities. The soul beholds itself all un-
adorned as it must stand before Almighty God.
He raised his eyes to heaven and there beheld
the beauty of myriad stars and undiscovered
worlds bespangling the firmament. Never
before had he noticed their sublimity. By the
tremulous half-light of the early dawn his deed
of the night before appeared despicable -
devilish. For a time his head dropped in
shame before the accusations of his soul.
There came dimly to his beclouded faculties
a realization of the possibilities of a life which
might have been his under opposite conditions


THE BITTER ARROW.
335
n
John.
Langley
:inna story
from those in which he was born. Events of
his childhood in the South came to him
through the mist of years. He saw himself
a half-starved beggar in the city streets, a
deserted child claiming kindred with none,
allowed a shelter in a poor Negro cabin for
charity's sake, begging his bread from the
generous passer-by. Somehow he had learned
his letters. Then he became ambitious to
learn more. He heard talk of a country to the
north which seemed to his childish imagina-
tion a fairyland. He determined to go there;
so he started on his wearisome journey at an
age when the loving mother trembles to have
her darling exposed to the perils of the busy
streets without a strong hand to guide him
through its dangers. All his capital was in his
nimble baby feet. He charmed coin from the
people wherever he went by his expert danc-
ing. He could do the breakdown and many
intricate shuffles in a way that delighted his
audiences. When he reached the North he
managed to buy a bootblack's outfit; then he
worked his way into a hotel kitchen. He went
on from one thing to another, always keeping
the one end in view — to acquire an education.
He had prospered. He had accomplished
the acquisition of knowledge at the expense of
the non-development of every moral faculty.


336
CONTENDING FORCES.
He did not realize that he was a responsible
being, or that morality was obligatory upon him.
With him, might was right. This man was
what he was through the faults of others. If
there be truth in the assertion that we create
ourselves in the life we live on earth, the sphere
that makes our heaven or hell within the illim-
itable realms of futurity, then it may be that the
pitying eye of Heaven sees the struggles of these
irresponsible ones of earth who are monuments
of man's inhumanity to man, and sends a warn-
ing, pleading voice along the dim, resounding
aisles of self-communion. It is a law of the
All-wise that Nemesis shall walk beside us in
every wrong that we commit. For joy we pay,
for sorrow, too, and also for the ill we do. We
call the recoil which comes from evil-doing,
retribution, which being the fruit of evil, is co-
existent with it. John had given no thought
to the needs of his soul in his pursuit of wealth
and position. Tonight he had the feeling that
he had given all for nothing; that in his blind,
egotistical seeking for his own gratification he
had overstepped the bounds, and that retribu-
tion would put a check upon his desires.
That night his better angel triumphed, and
he resolved that he would apologize to Sappho,
make up with Dora, and tell Will all his sur-
mises about Mr. Withington. But when day-


338
CONTENDING FORCES.
Has your love for Dora turned to hate, that
you can deliberately humiliate the girl you
have wished to make your wife, as you have
her?"
John's courage seemed to have deserted him.
He stood before Smith like the culprit that he
was.
“Of what do you accuse me?” he cried at
length, in desperation.
“ Does not your conscience answer? If not,
read that,” and Will handed him Sappho's
letter.
John took it, and even as his hand grasped
the sheet of paper he began to turn over in his
mind a way out of this dilemma. As he fin-
ished reading it his mind was made up. He
returned it to Will with a shrug of his shoulders
and a smile more significant than words. The
ashen face of his friend should have warned
him.
“I did not intend to humiliate Dora, for men
do many like things which never come to the
ears of the woman they call wife. Accidentally
I learned Miss Clark's story. I also learned by
observation that there were other stories just
as piquante. You will thank me when you
know all. She is beautiful. What would
you have? Am I different from other men
who have made like proposals to a fille de
joie?”


THE BITTER ARROW.
339
Scarcely had the words passed his lips when
Will was upon him.
"You miserable, lying hound!” he shouted,
beside himself with rage and grief. He grasped
John by the throat. Again the door opened,
and Doctor Lewis ran toward the struggling
figures.
"Will! John! are you both mad? Do you
want to create a public scandal ?” He suc-
ceeded in separating them, and then threw him.
self between them. So they stood panting
and glaring at each other like angry beasts.
'Take me out of this, then!" cried Will,“ or
I won't answer for myself! Here is your ring!”
He took the ring Dora had given him, and threw
it at Langley 'I will give you until tonight
to get your luggage out of my house. If you
are there tomorrow morning, I will shoot you
like the cur you are.
Doctor Lewis drew him from the room. The
door closed. Thus they who had been friends
for years parted.
John stood there alone in his silent office, look-
ing out on the dreary vista of brick walls and
the network of wires, in awful solitude with his
thoughts of the past and his blank future. The
sun of prosperity had set on him forever – he
felt it - knew it. His own hand had wrought
this ruin to himself. said his heart and con-
science.


340
CONTENDING FORCES.
CHAPTER XX.
MOTHER-LOVE.
WHAT is it to die?
To leave all disappointment, care and sorrow,
To Icave all falsehood, treachery and unkindness,
All ignominy, suffering and despair,
And be at rest forever! O dull heart,
Be of good cheer! When thou shalt cease to beat,
Then shalt thou cease to suffer and complain!
-LONGFELLOW.
MEANTIME Sappho had descended from the
car at the corner of Arlington and Boylston
Streets on that eventful Easter night; she en-
tered the Garden, and impelled by an uncon-
trollable impulse, walked again through the
paths where a few hours before she had known
so much happiness. She knew no fear; the
darkness concealed her. Again she sat upon
the seat where she had passed the brightest
moments of her life. A neighboring clock
struck one.
It was then the first hour of a new
day — the dawn for her of fresh misery. A
cold, sharp wind struck her with chilling force;
she shivered, but still sat there buried in hope-
less despair.
Fearful indeed is the plan of existence which


MOTHER-LOVE.
341
rules our mortality. Innocent or guilty, our
deeds done in the flesh pursue us with relent-
less vigor unto the end of life. Sometimes
the rough winds of adversity are tempered to
the shorn lamb who is not responsible for acts
which are forced upon him ; God in infinite wis-
dom and justice remits the severity of our suf-
ferings; but the tracings still remain upon the
sands of life — we bind up the wounds — they
heal, but the scars remain.
Sappho possessed a brilliant mind and reso-
lute character. If she had been a religious
devotee she would have been as devout and
as fervid as a disciple of old. If a sinner, the
queen of them all. She had strength of will
enough for a dozen women, which, if ever
started on the wrong road, would be difficult to
redirect into the paths of right. She had suf-
fered much in meekness, but now dumb rage
awoke her passions. For a time the spirit of
revenge held full sway in the outraged heart.
Revenge was all she craved; she shivered at
the dark thoughts which came to her.
venge” whispered the swaying branches of the
trees above her head — “revenge" seemed
whispered in the chilling winds about her --
revenge upon her seducer and upon the man
who had dashed the cup of happiness from
her lips and most wantonly insulted her in her
“Re-


MOTHER-LOVE.
343
might have been directed to her. At length she
reached the door of Madam Frances's house.
All was dark. No light, no welcome. So was
her life made dark and desolate by the curse of
slavery. She rang the bell twice with a strong
hand; presently she saw the faint gleam from
a lamp through the sidelights, and then her
aunt's familiar voice asked: “Who is there?"
“It is I, Sappho; open the door, Aunt Sally."
She heard the click of the key as it turned
in the lock, and in another moment she stood
within the entry facing her aunt's curious,
frightened face. In another moment she
dropped her weary frame in a chair in the
reception room. Sappho told her aunt the
whole story. The elder woman was nonplussed
and startled; she had not counted that any one
would be able to identify her niece with poor,
unfortunate Mabelle Beaubean. They sat there
for a long time going over the situation, and
consulting about what was best to be done.
Sappho told her aunt that she was determined
to take the boy with her in future. Madam
Frances said nothing, for she saw that her
niece was determined.
“I must leave Boston ; that is clear,” said
Sappho.
“Certainly, that will be best for a while,"
replied her aunt. " But you must remember


344
CONTENDING FORCES.
that it is always darkest just before the dawn."
“I shall return to New Orleans and lose my-
self in that city. I shall get work there, and
my case will not be noticed, because it is not
uncommon. In time I shall forget.”
“As soon as you are settled there I will join
you with the boy. I will continue to tell for-
tunes, and we shall live very happily, no doubt.
I shall not be here long; my sands are almost
run, but I should like to see you safe and happy
before I go. But remember what I say to you
now, Sappho child: in doing your duty, happi-
ness will come to you, the greater and more
abiding for the trouble which has preceded it.”.
"Perhaps so," replied Sappho; “but, Aunt
Sally, I shall take the boy with me tomorrow
when I leave for the South. I will never part
with him again on earth.”
"Well, my dear child, I see no necessity for
you to become a martyr in order to do your
duty. However, do as you think best. Now
go and try to get a little rest.”
“Here is one of my mother's diamond rings;
take it, Aunt Sally, and sell it for me. I have
no money.”
The old woman took the ring, and Sappho
went into the small side-room where Alphonse
slept. She undressed and lay down beside the
boy, but not to sleep. She gazed on the inno-


MOTIIER-LOVE.
319
A long spell of low fever ensued, but to Sap-
pho in her weakness the rest and comfort that
came to her harassed mind was like sun and
shade in a grassy glade of perfect peace. The
nuns were greatly interested in her, and con-
cluded that she was as good as pretty,
“She is like the angels in the pieture of the
Crucifixion, so sweet and sad. She has more
tears in her heart than in her eyes."
“She is not of our faith," said another, “but
we will do our best for her, as the Mother says:
le bon Dieu knows best."
It was evening in New Orleans. The streets,
the great arteries of a crowded metropolis, were
lighted by the glare of myriad gas-lamps, thus
dispelling the darkness like artificial suns. The
roll of vehicles blended with the other sounds,
the hum of millions rising in a confused roar
above the housetops and mingling with the
clouds of evening.
In a small, bare room Sappho lay, at the end
of a long corridor. The rays from a lamp out-
side the room came faintly in, dispelling the
semi-darkness. The light from the soft South-
ern moon gleamed faintly through the windows,
making the room like the cloisters of heavenly
mansions. To that quiet haven of rest the
turmoil and bustle of life did not reach. There


356
CONTENDING FORCES.
her sufferings. Alphonse was expanding like
a flower beneath the influence of his mother's
love and devotion. He was her consolation.
Late one afternoon she sat on the terrace,
a book in her lap, her thoughts far away.
Alphonse brought her a bunch of roses. The
child looked at her earnestly a moment, and
then said:
“Mamma, why are you always so sad when
you sit on the terrace alone?'
“I am not sad, Alphonse,” she replied, kiss-
ing him on his forehead.
Oh, yes, you are. When I am a big man
I shall find the tall, handsome gentleman who
gave you flowers at the fair.”
“Why, Alphonse !"
“ Have I said anything wrong, mamma?” he
asked anxiously.
"Not wrong, my child, but mamma prefers
that you never speak of the past to anyone.”
"I will do just as you say, Mamma Sappho!”
he cried, impetuously throwing his arms about
her neck in a bearlike hug.
Somewhat startled by the child's precocious-
ness, she sat there after he left her, watching
the red sun slowly dropping out of sight in the
west. The peaceful stillness of approaching
darkness rested on the landscape. She heard
a step and turned to perceive Monsieur Louis,


VOTIEK-LOVE.
357
who seated himself beside her on the rustic
settee.
"We shall have a thunder shower before
morning; see how heavy the clouds are hang-
ing."
“I have been watching them,” replied Sappho.
“Miss Clark, how long have you been with
us ?” he asked abruptly.
"A few months more than two years. Why,
Monsieur Louis?"
“ You have been happy ? " he asked, ignoring
her question.
" Happier than I can say.”
“Do not let what I am about to say distress
you; but I want you to make me your confidant
and tell me all your sad story, not from idle
curiosity, but because I have grown to love
you and the boy."
“Oh, monsieur!" was all Sappho could say.
Then he spoke again. She had only a con-
fused idea of his words, but his meaning was
clearly written in her heart.
“My child," he said gravely, taking her hand,
"I am an old man, experienced in the ways of
the world. I have seen and understood more
of your story than I have seemed to. My heart
yearns for you and the child. I am old and
selfish, perhaps, but I offer you a home for
yourself and the boy, an honorable name, and


AFTER MANY DAYS.
363
She smoothed down her long white apron
as she murmured to herself: "'Phelia, whar is
you?” She was evidently embarrassed. After
thinking a moment she continued :
Now, 'bout this house. What are you goin'
to do with it?"
“We haven't concluded yet what we will do
with it. I'm going South with Dora until Will
finishes at Heidelberg; then, after he has settled
upon his future field of work, I am to live with
him.”
"Exactly so. Then I s'pose .you'll be willin'
to rent the house ef you git a good tenant?”
“ Yes; I suppose so."
Now, Sis’Smith, I want to ask you ef you've
eny ejections to my takin'it?”
Certainly no objections; but isn't it a great
responsibility for a woman alone in the world ? "
asked Mrs. Smith, greatly surprised.
Mrs. Davis smoothed the folds of her ample
white apron nervously — coughed – stammered
blushed.
“Well, truth is, Sis' Smith, you know people
make changes in this life; fac' truth, indeed,
ma'm, we's always changin', an' I'm thinkin' o'
changin' to double harness fer a while.”
“I want to know!" exclaimed Ma Smith, now
properly astonished and interested. “And who
is the happy man?"


AFTER MANY DAYS.
365
66
tinued, retiring with graceful discretion from
the contest.
“No; he's goin' to graduate. The society
he's been preaching fer Sundays is goin' to
give him their church, and I'll keep the laundry
a-goin' an' rent rooms."
' I'm sure I'll be very glad to let you have
the house. I don't know anyone I'd rather let
it to.”
"Then that's settled," said Mrs. Davis, with
a sigh of relief. “I thought you'd say that.
Now, you see, all yer ol' lodgers can keep their
rooms, an' it will seem jes' like home to them.
Mr. Jeemes is that fond o' me tell Sarah Ann
calls me an ol' fool, an' says all he wants is my
money, and a right smert 'ooman to work fer
him. I telled Sarah Ann, ‘go git a man fer
yourself an' quit bein' jealous.' She says to me,
'I will, an' it won't be a boy jes' turned twenty-
one.' Sarah Ann an' me'll have to part after
I'm merried, she's that jealous.” Mrs. Davis
had regained all her good humor, and was very
complacent over Ma Smith's evident interest
in her story.
“ Now that would be a pity, after you've been
together so long,” remarked the latter.
“She's got to drop sayin' ticklish things to
me. A 'ooman's got a right to git merried,
ain't she?” Mrs. Davis was now fairly started


366
CONTENDING FORCES.
on a congenial subject, and her words flowed
in a torrent.
“Mr. Jeemes says he knows the Lord sent
me fer to be a helpmeet to him, an' I dassay
he's right. Sarah Ann says my money's the
helpmeet’ he's after, an' somebody to cook
good vittals to suit his pellet. But I know
better; he's a godly man ef he ain't much to
look at.”
“How did you happen to take a fancy to each
other?”
“Lord, he's sech a good critter! The first I
noticed was the night you had that swaree here
last winter. Some o' the men got to talkin'
'bout 'ooman bein' the weaker vessel, an' sub-
jugatin' theirself to be led by men an' not go
prespirin' after work an' sech likes which be-
longs to men. Mr. Jeemes he held to it thet
'ooman's all right to ejecate herself even to be
a minister, fer no man could be suferior to
'ooman, 'cause she was his rib. An' ever sence
that I kin' o' thought what a shame it was fer
a man to be minus one o' his ribs all along o'
’ooman, untell I made up my mind thet ef
Jeemes wanted me he could have back his lost
rib. All this spring he's been a-ridin' me on
his bike down in the kitchen every day after
we got through washin' an' had cleaned up, so
I could go ridin' with him in the Fens an' all



EVERYRODY WAS A LOOKIN' IN A GAAPPIN' AT US.''





AFTER VANT DAYS,
367
out o' town this summer.
After I'd learnt, one
day he came in with a beautiful bike an' saddle.
The nex' day we was ter ride ter the Park. I
hed on my new pale blue bicycle suit with a
pink shirtwaist an'a white sailer hat an' tan-
colored shoes an' gloves. I tell you I looked
some! Mr. Jeemes had on a black suit with a
gray linen duster, an' he did look extinguished
in his beaver hat an' that white choker an' tie
o'hisn which I must say I do admire. We got
along purty well. Everybody was a-lookin'an'
a-gappin' at us. Sarah Ann says it was 'cause
we looked like a couple o'jay birds stuffed.
“We got along all right untell we was a-comin'
down a hill. Mr. Jeemes was a-coastin', an' the
tail o' that linen duster o'hisn was a-sailin' out
behin' like a flag floppin'in an east wind. The
fust thing I knowed he was a-stickin' fast head
fust into a pile o' sand where they was makin'
mortar to build a cellar, an' me on top o' him !
Wasn't it a mercy thet we wasn't stuck in the
mortar? Jeemes is purty black, but he was a
white man when he got out o'thet san' heap.
As fer me, I tore my gloves, los' my hat, an'
busted a new pair o' corsets right off me. Be-
sides thet, I nearly swallered my upper teeth,
an' I lost my bangs. They picked me up an'
carried me into a house they was a-buildin',
an' give me a chance to fix myself up a bit.


368
CONTEXDING FORCES.
But I 'clar to you them corsets was no good
never after thet; an' it cost me ten dollars to
fix thet upper set o' teeth so I could wear 'em
agin ; I never have seen them bangs sence.
“We was thet done up that Jeemes sent
fer a kerridge to bring us home; an' fifty dol-
lars won't excuse the damages to them bikes.
Comin' home an' settin' so close together, be-
side the trouble we'd had makin' us feel kin' o'
tender o each other, Jeemes put his arm 'roun'
me - an' I don' see how ever in time he did
it, bein' the corsets warn't no good, an'me 'bou:
as small as a bag o' taters -- he put his arm
'roun' me, he did, an' he says, says he: ‘Le's git
merried, 'Phelia!' I was thet stonished an' set
back you could heve knocked me down with a
feather, an' was thet weak from bein'overcamed
by my feelin' thet all I remember was thet I
fell on his neck like the patrihawks did in the
Bible where they tell 'bout Abraham, Isaac an'
Jacob, Shem, Ham, Meshack an' 'Bednego
you 'member how the minister tol' us all 'bout
that in the Skripter lesson las' Sunday night,
don't you? I ain't got no 'bility fer readin',
but I's got a mem'ry, thank Gawd. As I was
a-sayin', I jes' fell onto his neck, an' I says to
him: “Mr. Jeemes, ef you want yer rib, I'm
her.' Thet's the way it camed 'bout, an' we's
yoin' ter be merried purty soon, 'though Sarah


370
CONTENDING FORCES.
sat there dreaming. Months afterward she
looked back upon that day, and remembered
with wonder her own tranquility.
“ The supreme hours unnoted come.'.
She heard the door-bell ring, but it did not
disturb her reverie. There was a knock at the
door of the room where she was sitting. Then
the door opened, and Mrs. Davis ushered in
a tall, elegant white man of distinguished ad-
dress, and about her own age.
Mrs. Davis
closed the door behind him and vanished.
“Mrs. Smith, I presume?" he said in a pleas-
ant voice as he advanced toward her. It was
a voice of rare carrying power - deep, rich,
musical, and had moved the House of Com-
mons to enthusiasm on more than one memo-
rable occasion in the politics of Great Britain.
Yes,” she replied, rising from her seat.
I called to see Mr. Wl'illiam Smith, and I
dislike to be disappointed. Will
he be at home
He handed her his card as he finished
speaking, and she read the inscription :
CHARLES MONTFORT-WITHINGTON,
BLANKSHIRE,
ENGLAND.
Pray be seated, Mr. Withington," she said,
as she placed a chair for her visitor. “I am
William's mother; he will be in very soon."
soon?"


AFTER MANY DAYS.
371
Mr. Withington thanked her, and having
seated himself, glided easily into conversation;
at the same time his keen eye noted his sur-
roundings. Nothing in the quiet, unpreten-
tious, shaded room escaped him. The large
glass bowl of flowers — sweet peas and nastur-
tiums predominating - filled the room with
fragrance; there were three or four water-color
paintings set in simple frames — pictures of
rural scenes. The few choice pieces of china
and bric-a-brac which adorned the mantel, the
open piano, the general good taste, even elegance
of the apartment, appealed strongly to the artis-
tic sense of the cultured gentleman who had
been reared in the luxury of ample wealth.
Mrs. Smith herself was a revelation to him.
By what art of necromancy had such a distin-
guished woman been evolved from among the
brutalized aftermath of slavery?
“ I had the pleasure of meeting your son and
conversing with him at the annual dinner of
the Canterbury Club in February last. I was
much impressed with his views on the condi-
tion of the Negroes in this country. Being
interested in every phase of racial development
which bears upon the science of political econ-
omy, I felt that after my Canadian business
was settled I would try and meet him again. I
intended to write and ask him to meet me at


376
CONTENDING FORCES.
assure you that the letters of Jesse Montfort to
his brother Charles are still in existence! They
are preserved as a sacred legacy, together with
a sworn statement of the main facts as we know
them, in this remarkable case. Your uncle
Charles married his rescuer's daughter, and as
is the custom among old English families where
the name would become extinct upon the mar-
riage of the only child — a daughter - he as-
sumed the name of Withington in conjunction
Jyith his own. The United States Government
was sued by Withington, Sr., and he recovered
1, one hundred thousand dollars damages for
Charles, but no trace of Jesse could be found
The money is held for him or his heirs by the
Government. I can furnish you the necessary
proof upon my return to England. Tell me
not that the time of miracles has departed!
Is not this a direct intervention of the hand of
Providence that we, so widely separated, should
at last become known to each other?”
He paused, overcome by emotion.
Mrs.
Smith wept quietly. Broken words of praise to
God — of joy - of sorrow for the dead - of
hope for the future - passed her lips from time
to time.
Ah! who can paint such a scene?
Finally Mr. Withington embraced them both
his kinswoman and Will, his kinsman.
“Be assured that I shall bend every effort to


378
CONTENDING FORCES.
past history of each family. These were days
of happiness to the newly found relatives
days fraught with wise lessons to himself. He
was the best of friends with Dora; indeed, he
was a man who inspired confidence and love.
Very soon he was the recipient of the story of
all her recent trials with John, and poor Will's
unhappy love episode. He approved Dora's
choice in Doctor Lewis, and had the latter's
promise to take her across to Europe at the
earliest opportunity. For Will he had a strong
man's sympathy, and encouraged him to hope
that all might yet be well. So potent was his
hopefulness that will brightened perceptibly
and became more like his old ambitious self, to
the great delight of his mother and sister.
He in his turn told them the story of Charles
Montfort: How his benefactor had returned to
America in the hope of finding and rescuing
Jesse, after establishing the boys' claim to the
estate of their murdered father. He found that
the child had disappeared, leaving no trace be-
hind him. How Charles had rejoiced over the
later discovery of his brother, and how he had
grieved over the final estrangement. Then on
the eve of his departure for America to person-
ally search Jesse out, he was stricken with
paralysis, and remained a helpless invalid until
his death. Meantime the business of establish-


380
CONTENDING FORCES.
atrocious crime. She lived for years as the mistress of
Anson Pollock, and knew that he tracked Jesse to Boston,
where he lost all trace of him. The day we visited her
it was pathetic to hear her grieve over the children; one
would have thought them still helpless little ones. My
dear mother, this woman is but another evidence of the
all-powerful hand of the Almighty — this poor, decrepit,
half-blind centenarian is Lucy, Grace Montfort's foster-
sister and maid !
The granddaughter is married, and her husband and
children are here. When the Civil War ended they deter-
mined to settle in Bermuda, and here they have lived ever
since in a cottage which is almost a but, supporting them-
selves by selling sugar-cane in small sticks — the same as
our candy-shops sell sticks of candy to the children –
and other products of their garden, in the market-place.
Prepare yourself for another surprise.
The youngest woman had a child while in slavery, by
Anson Pollock, Jr., a grandnephew of old Anson Pollock,
whom we all have so much reason to remember. The
poor woman seems much distressed over this boy, who, it
appears, was taken from her when he was but six months
old, and sold with many others to a man who farmed
Negro babies for the market. She asked me if I had
ever in my distant home met a young man called John
Pollock Langley. He is her son ! I gave her an evasive
answer, and told her I would inquire about such a person,
and let her know the result. I shall write John these
facts. He can use his own pleasure then about claiming
his relatives. How fortunate the estrangement which
resulted in breaking the engagement between John and


AFTER MAVY DAYS.
381
Dora. I never could have tolerated the idea of a
descendant of the Montforts being united in the close
relation of marriage with one of the villainous and
unscrupulous Pollocks. Let us thank God for another
mercy. Mr. Withington feels as I do. He has invested
some money in a small annuity for our humble friends,
- enough to keep them from want. The nobility of this
man is something remarkable. We sail from here for
home by the next steamer, so we shall be in time for the
wedding.
Your loving son,
WILL.
P. S. - I reopen this letter to tell you of the death of
Lucy; old age the cause. After she learned that I was
Jesse's grandson, and heard the story of his life, with the
renewed intelligence often vouchsafed to those just upon
the border of the happy land, her prayer was :
let Thy servant depart in peace.” How soon her prayer
was answered.
WILL.
" Now
In the last beautiful days of October Dora
became the wife of Doctor Lewis, and went
with him to his far-off Southern home to assist
him in the upbuilding of their race.
And what a wedding it was! The skies were
fair and bright. The romantic story of the
Smith family had become noised about, and as
it was a church wedding the sacred edifice was
crowded to suffocation. Doctor Lewis was well
and favorably known, and that was of additional
interest to the spectators. The small girls who
formed Dora's class in Sunday-school, dressed


382
CONTENDING FORCES.
in white, preceded the pretty bride, strewing
flowers in her path. Then the bride followed
on the arm of her brother, Doctor Lewis meet-
ing them at the altar, where he had been accom-
panied by the ushers. Dora would have no
bridesmaids. Gowned in the simplest white
muslin frock she stood and solemnly plighted
her vows to the man of her choice.
They were a striking couple: she serious,
he so grave and steadfast. So it should be,
taking up a new life, with its endless need of
forbearance, trust, and mutual affection. Each
knew that with one all was not yet given with
the abandonment of perfect love. Each felt,
too, the deep waters that surrounded Will -
the shadow of a tragedy that lay about his life.
What wonder that an unusual solemnity en-
folded this couple as they took their vows upon
them. But it was a solemnity that quiets,
soothes and strengthens.
As the bride came down the aisle on her hus.
band's arm at the conclusion of the ceremony,
she caught for one instant the full gaze of John
Langley. She never forgot that look; so full
of despair and unhappiness. She said nothing
about it to husband or brother, but it haunted
her for many an hour.
Well, well, it was over, and they passed out
to the carriage, and thence to the house.


AFTER MANY DAYS.
383
There was a great reception after the cere-
mony; but just before Dora left her room to
take her place with the receiving party, a pack-
age was placed in her hand. She opened it, and
found it a jewel-box containing a heavy gold
bracelet set with pearls, which outlined a deli-
cate vine of pansies traced about the golden
band. No note or card was attached — noth-
ing but her name and the date of the marriage.
Dora locked it away with her many gifts, amid
painful thoughts; she knew instinctively that
John was the giver. A week later the happy
couple left Boston, accompanied by Mrs. Smith,
followed by the heartfelt good wishes of all who
knew them, for their future prosperity. So
with fair skies and favorable winds they entered
upon the untried sea of matrimony.
The case of Smith vs. the United States did
not come to a public trial; it was heard privately
before a court composed of the judges of the
Supreme Court of the United States. The
English heirs had received their portion years
before; the Government only awaited the pro-
duction of the necessary proofs to establish the
identity of Mrs. Smith beyond a peradventure.
Detectives went over the ground carefully.
The records of real estate transfers, chattels,
etc., were all found intact among the files of the


386
CONTENDING FORCES.
changed, and had the same kindly expression,
although there lurked within their hazel depths
a sadness which in repose became absolute
mournfulness.
The ambition of his life was the establish-
ment of a school which should embrace every
known department of science, where the Negro
youth of ability and genius could enter without
money and without price. This was his pet
scheme for the future. No wife or child would
ever be his, he told himself; but he would be a
father to the youth of his race. Thus he mused
and planned until one day there came a letter
from his sister saying that his mother's health
was very much broken, and that she longed for
the presence of her boy. Will packed up, and
April found him in the United States once
more, at the home of his sister in New Orleans.
Thoughts of Sappho were seldom far from
him; he thought of her as one gone to the
land of delight – purified by her sufferings
here. The first night that he passed on board
ship he had dreamed of her. He dreamed that
he stood in a grand cathedral, and listened to
strains of delicious melody chanted by an invisi-
ble choir. Christe eleison, Kyrie eleison, floated
to his ears, and the glad strains of the Gloria.
Presently upon the altar before him appeared
a vision of the Virgin and Child, but the face.


INTO THEIR DESIRED HAVE.V.
387
of the mother was Sappho's, the child by her
side was the little Alphonse. He tried to reach
her in vain. She smiled and beckoned him on
as she receded at his approach; then he awoke.
His dream haunted him. He interpreted it
as a promise that they should be united in
heaven. The meeting with his mother and
sister and the renewal of old ties somewhat
deadened painful memories, until reawakened
when he heard them call his sister's beautiful
child “Sappho."
The home to which Doctor Lewis had taken
his bride was very beautiful. One passed from
the highway down a long avenue framed by
majestic palms, and so upon the college campus
which was surrounded by dormitories built of
substantial brick. Doctor Lewis's house was
a fine brick cottage, plentifully supplied with
porches and piazzas. Its framework was a suc-
cession of terraces planted with gorgeous beds
of flowers indigenous to the Southern clime.
The long French windows stood open to catch
the soft breezes of April. This house and the
numerous dormitories, museums, the chapel,
and buildings which held lecture-rooms and
class-rooms, were all built by the pupils of the
school. The students made the brick which
entered into the composition of the various
buildings; the carpenter shop, carriage and


INTO THEIR DESIRED HAVEX. 389
Doctor Lewis's pupils and the neighboring
schools with eagerness. He acquainted him-
self thoroughly for future reference, with the
curriculum of academical life as conducted along
the lines pertaining to Negro education. After
gaining a clear insight into it all, he said to
Doctor Lewis :
“I hold that a man to gain true self-respect
and independence must not be hampered in
any way by prejudice. I would remove my
school far from such influences."
"Where would your choice fall for the estab-
lishment of such a paradise ?” asked Doctor
Lewis with a smile.
There are places enough in the world. One
could easily find such an environment abroad.
There across the water, associated on equal
terms with men of the highest culture, the
Negro shall give physical utterance to the
splendid possibilities which are within him.”
“Chimerical and quixotic," returned Doctor
Lewis with a shake of the head. “It can't be
done."
“I shall try it, nevertheless, and leave the
results I hope for to the leveling hand of Time.”
If ever a doubt of Dora's happiness had
troubled Will's thoughts, it was dispelled now
that he saw her a contented young matron, her


INTO THEIR DESIRED IIAVEN.
391
"No," replied Will.“ Arthur has promised
to accompany me there, but something always
intervenes."
“ Don't miss it on Sunday morning. The
Easter service is divine."
.
The convent of the Holy Family was founded
in 1842 by three good women, in the very heart
of the stronghold of slavery, and under the
most depressing influences. There is but one
other mother-house and novitiate for colored
women in the United States, and that is in
the city of Baltimore. The service held in the
chapel by the Sisterhood of the Holy Family
on Easter morning is famous throughout the
South. Easter is Easter the world over, and
the earth seems to take on an added beauty
in honor of the day. But Easter in New
Orleans is something to dream of, and defies
description.
Will's thoughts were solemn ones, and
mingled with pain, for was not this the anni-
versary of his greatest joy and his most bitter
sorrow. He walked toward the chapel through
silent streets filled with earnest worshippers on
the way to early Mass. It was a familiar sight
to Will, who had passed so many months in
Catholic countries. Morn was breaking in the
east; the air was filled with the faint sounds


392
CONTENDING FORCES.
of returning life; the sweet odor of the mag-
nolia, mingled with a thousand other subtle
perfumes, intoxicated the senses. The sun had
not yet risen as he glided quietly into the
church and took a seat in a secluded corner, to
watch the entry of the congregation.
Until Easter morning the pictures of Christ,
Mary and Joseph were veiled, but now the
statues had emerged from their concealment
in indication of the spiritual change in us which
was wrought by the coming forth of Christ from
the tomb. Tapers glowed and flowers bloomed
everywhere. The Sisters stood with their dark
faces uplifted in the full light which fell from
the stained glass windows, making a picture
long to be remembered. The stillness, the
coolness, the swiftly moving, silent figures, the
slanting rays of sunlight growing higher and
higher, seemed to calm the troubled spirit of
the man, and to impress his very soul with
the greatness and glory of pure religious devo-
tion. Involuntarily his thoughts were wafted
upward in solemn supplication to the Father
of all good.
He saw the entrance of the convent boarders,
the orphan girls, the orphan boys and the nov-
ices, still in an exalted state of religious enthu-
siasm. All in the crowded edifice were on
their knees now, listening to the intonations


394
CONTENDING FORCES.
bell, and sent his card to the Mother Superior
by a novice in the regulation black dress and
white bonnet. She bade him enter, and left
him in a bare room overlooking a paved court,
where groups of children could be seen at play.
He stood there with his back to the door, buried
in deep thought and filled with misgivings.
Suddenly a door opened behind him and a
voice said: “I will bring him back tomorrow,
Sister.”
Surely he knew that voice! He turned, and
there before his blinded vision stood the realiza-
tion of his dream, holding the boy by the hand !
One swift glance showed him that she was in
street attire; that she was not a member of the
Order. She saw and recognized him at the same
instant. With a mighty cry of joy and thanks-
giving he clasped her in his arms.
“O, that 'twere possible,
After long grief and pain,
To find the arms of my true love
Round me once again ! ”
Sappho was welcomed right royally by Doc-
tor Lewis, Dora and her mother, as one risen
from the dead; tears, smiles, kisses greeted her.
It seemed that they would never be able to
control their emotion. Then she told them



TITERE BEFORE TITS BLUDED VISION STOOD TIE REALIZATION
OF ITS DREAMS.


INTO THEIR DESIRED HAVEN.
395
of her Alight to New Orleans with the child, of
the death of the old fortune-teller, and her own
employment as a governess in the family of the
wealthy colored planter in Opelausus, and the
placing of the boy with the Sisters. She in her
turn listened with wonder to the fairylike tale
of the wealth that had come to her lover's
family.
Late that afternoon she sat once again in
close heart communion with her lover. Each
had much to tell.
Seated beside her on the sofa, Will folded
her closely to his heart again with one deep,
heavy sob which attested the man's suppressed
anguish.
"Oh,” he said, at last, "it has been like a
hideous nightmare since I read that letter
which you sent me. I can scarcely believe in
the blessed reality that I hold you safe in my
arms once more.'
She put back the clustering curls from his
brow, noting with pain the many white hairs
which threaded those raven locks. She laid
her cheek against his as she said:
"I know only too well all you have gone
through.”
"Why did you leave me, Sappho? Had you
no confidence in my love for you? How
meanly you must have judged me if you


396
CONTENDING FORCES,
thought me capable of holding you responsi-
ble for the monstrous wrong committed against
you."
Ah, Will; I had suffered so much at the
hands of selfish men! Can you wonder that
I mistrusted you, and felt that you would only
despise me when you knew all ?”
Then he told her of his interview with John
Langley, holding back nothing but the insult-
ing insinuations.
“But, dearest, the detectives were at the con-
vent; they even interviewed Luke Sawyer.
Poor fellow, he was completely overcome
when he found that you were alive, and he
dropped his work and devoted months to trac-
ing your whereabouts in this very city. How
you have managed to hide yourself, and Dora
living right here in New Orleans with you, is
the mystery.”
“Yes; but it is an easy matter to become lost
in a great city like this. You must remember
that I kept away from every familiar spot;
even the Sisters in the convent had been
changed, so that there was no one to remember
me, the former Mother Superior having died.
When I was strong enough to go about, you
had ceased searching for me."
“And all this secrecy was for what?" asked
Will reproachfully


398
COXTENDING FORCES.
thought it!” Then Will supplemented it with
the romantic history of his family, and his life
since Sappho's Aight. The old gentleman lis-
tened entranced. “It is indeed a fairy tale of
love and chivalry such as we read of only in
books,” he said at last with a long-drawn breath.
Then he told them many interesting tales of
slave life and its complications as he had known
them. It was nearly midnight when Will left,
promising to return the next day and complete
arrangements for a wedding which was to take
place immediately. Monsieur Louis insisted
that he should furnish the wedding dress and
breakfast, and be allowed to give the bride
away. So a second Easter Day closed on happy
love - a love sanctified and purified by suf-
fering.
John Langley, soon after Dora's marriage
and the acquisition of fortune to the Smith
family, suddenly gave up his business, and
started off with the first daring adventurers
who were allured from home by the dazzling
promise of immense fortunes to be dug out of
the earth in the new Eldorado -- the Klondike
gold-fields.
John was unhappy. He was willing to admit
that he had viewed things in a false light, and
consequently had made a mess of his own


INTO THEIR DESIRED HAVEN.
399
happiness. He still retained an ardent enthusi-
asm for his profession, but he needed a change.
He would divert his mind from his recent dis-
appointments by travel in strange lands, and
after he had acquired a large fortune he would
settle down to the practice of law and do good
among his fellows as a sort of atonement for
his early mistakes. He placed his business in
the hands of his partner, first making a will,
in which he bequeathed to his mother's family
in Bermuda the savings he would leave in the
bank, in case he did not return.
“I only make this will for form's sake,” said
he to his partner, as he gave it into the latter's
keeping. “I'll be back here inside of two years
and dazzle you with my wealth.”
He joined a party made up of hardy Eastern
men, and they started on their journey with
bright anticipations of a golden future. After
many adventures and much suffering they
reached the goal, only to find galint famine
awaiting them with gruesome countenance.
Day by day the cold increased; day by day the
stock of provisions dwindled. Each morning
they counted up the dead. One morning it was
five; the next, fifteen. Ten only remained alive
out of a party of thirty, and these so weak as to
be unable to remove the bodies from the com-
mon cabin. John learned to pray then: “May


400
CONTENDING FORCES.
the Lord, in His infinite mercy, come to our
rescue.”
One morning seven more bodies lay close
together in the bunks. It was plain then that
a few hours would end the sufferings of the re-
mainder. The last spark of fire had gone out.
Two biscuits and a quart of water was all the
sustenance left. Delirium seized upon all but
John. He felt sick at heart. He prayed “God's
will be done!” All that night a heavy galo
blew, and before morning two more poor souls
went out into space. John was then alone, the
last survivor of thirty gallant men. He dragged
his body outside the door and away from the
charnel-house. “Let me die under the open
sky, with the moon and stars for company.
He told himself that the old fortune-teller had
been right in her prediction: the field of ice and
snow which had been shown to him stretched
before him in dreary, unbroken silence. Over-
head unknown constellations looked down upon
his misery; the moon, cold, large, and spectral,
poured an intense yet dreary light upon the
scene.
He recalled the deep wisdom of lessons he
had recently learned – the philosophy of life
and death, assurance of the soul's individuality,
and the worthlessness of this earthly clay tene-
ment. He thought of his newly found mother,


INTO THEIR DESIRED HAVEN,
401
whom he had been ashamed to acknowledge.
His sight failed, his limbs lost their feeling, his
heart was nearly pulseless — it was death. “O
God! receive my soul. Dear, dear mother”-
The child of sunny climes folded himself more
closely in his blankets for the last time, and
slept to wake no more on earth. So the dawn
of Easter Sunday found him. That undisci.
plined soul went forth to wander in celestial
spheres, there to continue the salutary lessons
begun on earth, under the guidance of God's
angels, who minister to the needs of the immor.
tal soul.
Not many months after a merry party might
have been seen upon the deck of a Cunarder
bound for Europe. It consisted of Doctor
Lewis, Dora, little Sappho, Ma Smith, Will,
Sappho-now Will's wife-and little Alphonse.
They were all going to make the long-promised
visit to Mr. Withington.
Sappho was happy in contemplating the life
of promise which was before her. Will was the
noblest of men. Alphonse was to him as his
own child. United by love, chastened by sor-
row and self-sacrifice, he and she planned to
work together to bring joy to hearts crushed
by despair.
They stood upon the deck that night long


402
CONTENDING FORCES.
after the others had retired to their staterooms,
watching the receding shores with hearts filled
with emotion too deep for words.
My wife, my life. O, we will walk this world
Yoked in all exercise of noble end,
And so through those dark gates across the wild
That no man knows.
Lay thy sweet hands in mine and trust to me."


UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN
3 9015 04643 8019