WORK AMONG THE FREEDMEN.
BY MISS BERTHA ROBERTSON.
Dear Friends:—It gives me much pleasure to bring you a report, which will not be a discouraging one, of a part of the work this grand old American Missionary Association has undertaken. It would be simply impossible to give you a true idea of the work done among the colored people. Already you have heard many accounts, but to fully realize what is being done, you must either see the people over whom the influence of our schools extends, and compare them with those who have not enjoyed such privileges, or enter the field as a worker. In giving an outline of our work at McIntosh, Ga., perhaps a general idea may be gained of what the A. M. A. is doing for the freedmen. The colored people where we are, and I think it is the same throughout the South, have an idea their teachers can do anything from housekeeping to preaching a sermon or mending clocks, but before we should be allowed to undertake similar work in the North, it would be necessary that we should have M.D., D.D., or some other initials after our names.
We teach school. This does not mean exactly what it does in the North. You must remember, when the children come to us, they have had no home training whatever.
You can imagine something of their condition, when you remember that the majority come from miserable log cabins, consisting of one room, where parents and children live huddled together, and where the furniture is a mere apology, consisting generally of a table, bench and two chairs.
They have no hopes and ambition such as white children have. They never think of the possibilities the future may hold for them. When we ask our boys and girls what they are going to do when they leave school, they look at us in blank amazement. This is a new idea to them; they had not looked beyond the present.
Their standard of morality is low. Did you expect anything else? Who were the parents of these children? Slaves. Slaves who in return for hard labor received from the white man the cruelest wrongs and basest indignities; and yet people to-day speak as though this first generation born in freedom should be pure and virtuous. On every side you hear, “They lie, they cheat, they steal, are lazy, and it is simply impossible to do anything with them.” Many times this summer I have heard this sweeping assertion made, and by Christian people, who had simply traveled South, and who drew their conclusions from the servants they met in the hotels. Had they visited some of the A. M. A. schools their statement would not have been quite so extended as to the impossibilities of improvement.
The Bible is the foundation of all our teaching. Religious and moral training first. A half hour each morning is given to devotions. Friday morning the school all meet together for prayer, in which our pupils take part. We have been greatly blessed in these meetings. Friday afternoon the girls all meet in one room, and while they are taught sewing, the Principal of the school gives the boys a talk on morality, in another room. We visit the pupils in their homes, and they, with their parents, feel at liberty to come to our cottage at any time. It is with much pleasure we note the improvement in their cabins and the taste the girls display in trying to make their homes resemble our cottage. After school every Friday afternoon, we have a missionary meeting for the mothers. Here, while they sew, simple religious stories are read to them, and before they go home we have a Bible reading and prayers. Three years ago this society sent ten dollars to the Morning Star, and for the past two years they have sent fifteen dollars to the A. M. A. for the Indians. They are trying to do a little for the Master’s Kingdom.
Besides these meetings, we have Sunday-school and mission-school, and on Saturdays we go to settlements six or eight miles distant to hold mothers’ meetings. Many a poor soul in these meetings has heard for the first time the blessed news of personal salvation.
I know, dear friends, that what I have already said is not new to you; you have heard it many times and are anxious to know if any progress is noticeable. I wish, oh, how I wish, I could tell you of the progress they are making. How they are working under cast-iron laws to pay for their land and get little frame houses. People tell me, in a general way, that they are lazy and there is no hope for them; but I know them to get up at “day clear” and work until sundown to pay for their land under conditions that would discourage nine white men out of every ten. I could name a dozen families around us who have their land paid for, and nice little homes. The children come to school, their tuition is paid regularly and their books are provided as soon as needed.
Are they progressing? For an answer I would like to show you the nice little two-story frame building in which two of our pupils who were married last winter live. On the lower floor is the parlor, dining-room and kitchen; above are the chambers. The pretty chamber set, white spread and pillow-shams, were purchased with the money Sarah earned off her cotton patch.
People say they are dull and stupid. Yet children ten years old will criticise letters received by their parents, and in two and a half years we can fit a boy for the second preparatory year in college. He works his own way, pays for his books, and at the end of a year has enough to pay his traveling expenses home, and when his teacher asks him if there is anything he needs, he replies, “Oh, no; can’t I do something for you?”
People say, “You can’t trust them.” Yet I know of one of my little girls on sewing afternoon, when almost home, returning with a needle that somehow got stuck in her dress; and I have never missed a pencil or book out of my desk, on which there is no lock, during the years I have spent in McIntosh. How often you are told they are ungrateful, and do not appreciate what you are doing for them. Once and forever this idea would be banished from your minds could you be present at our meetings, and hear the fervent, heartfelt prayers of both young and old that God will pour out his richest blessings on this Association and the friends who uphold it. It has also been said they do not care to be educated, they would just as soon remain as they are. We have many pupils in our room who walk sixteen miles every day, and who do a task before leaving home in the morning, and another when they return at night. One of my boys, Josiah Roberts, walked this distance every day last year with the exception of two, making a total of 2,250 miles during the school year, and was not tardy one morning. Can any other school show such a record?
Among the colored people great stress is laid upon “joining the church.” This is one of the evils against which we have to fight. It is the only idea many of them have of what it is to be a Christian. One day, when returning home from making a call on Aunt Judy, the minister’s wife called me, saying the girls wished to see me. She has a number of girls from “up country,” who board with her and attend our school. I followed her into the room where they were, and said, on entering, “Well, girls, what is troubling you?” There was silence for a moment; then one bright girl looked up saying, “Oh, Miss Robertson, won’t you tell us what to do? We thought we were Christians, we belong to the church, but we are beginning to find out that that isn’t enough. We are not living for Christ. Won’t you tell us how to be such Christians as our teachers are?” With a short prayer for help, I pointed them to the Divine Example, and during the remaining days of school we had proof that they were imitating Him. Those girls went out into various parts of the country this summer to teach, carrying Jesus with them. Who can estimate the good they will do?
Every Tuesday and Thursday evening at the cabins the people hold neighborhood meetings. Desiring very much to see how these were conducted, I started out one evening with one of my girls. After walking about a mile through the woods we reached the cabin, which was crowded with dusky faces. As I entered, room was made for me at one side of the fire-place, in which was a crackling fire of pine knots. They asked me to read to them, so I opened my Bible to the CIII. Psalm. How eagerly and attentively they listened as it was read and explained. Then each one took part, either singing or praying. Then together they began to sing their old slave songs, keeping time by clapping and shaking hands, bobbing their heads and scraping their feet. Every part of the body seemed in motion. As I watched the strange scene, I thought, “Will this form of worship die out with the old slaves, or will it be continued by our young people?” I turned at that moment to look at my companion. A woman had just stepped up to her saying, “Why don’t you shake hands?” “Because I see no sense in it,” was the reply. On our way home she inquired of me if I did not think the last part of that meeting was more like a frolic than praising God? How rejoiced I was to hear that young girl express herself in such a manner. Truly, “Our labor is not in vain in the Lord.”
Dear friends, I would not give you the impression that there are no discouragements in our work, for there are many. It is with heavy hearts we oftentimes watch some of our scholars returning to their homes in the evening, for we know that there everything tends to overthrow the religious teaching received during the day. Girls going home to mothers who have no sense of purity and virtue, and who cannot realize the degradation of their lives. Sometimes those the most promising, those for whom we have entertained bright hopes for the future, fail us, and we are almost constrained to cry out, “This is greater than I can bear.”
But He, whose promises never fail, has shown us that the seed sown in tears will surely bring a harvest, and the encouragements, together with the joy of being in His service, outweigh the discouragements.
I could tell you of young men who have come to our school addicted to drink, using profane language and tobacco, who to-day are earnest, faithful Christians, the hope of our school. We gladly would keep them, yet we bid them “God speed,” as this year they go to Atlanta University. I could tell you of young girls who, out of the wickedness and immorality around them, have grown up pure, consecrated Christian women, doing what they can for the Master they have promised to serve.
Such is the work the A. M. A. is doing throughout the South. Is there anyone who can afford not to have a part in this glorious work? Think of the privilege of being permitted to help lift these souls, born in ignorance and vice, into the marvellous light of the gospel of Jesus Christ. Last year, for want of room and help, we had to turn many away from our doors, and that means sending them back into the wickedness and ignorance from which they desired to rise. When I take up the American Missionary Magazine and read therein the appeals for help, the feeling that comes over me is not unmixed with indignation, for in God’s precious word I read, “If I were hungry I would not tell thee, for the earth is mine and the fulness thereof;” and again, “The silver is mine and the gold is mine, saith the Lord of hosts;” and yet the stewards to whom He has entrusted this vast fortune do not allow Him enough to carry on His work. I heard the remark, not long ago, “When money is needed you can’t compensate with prayer.” Faith and works must go hand in hand. Shall not the treasury this year be full to overflowing so that “the barnacles may be cleared off this old ship,” and there be nothing to impede her progress?
Won’t you multiply your prayers for the work and workers, so that this year may be the most prosperous, so that we may indeed “have souls for our hire”!