HYMN BOOKS WANTED.
The Plymouth Congregational Church of New Decatur, Ala., greatly needs hymn books. It has a few copies of the "Songs of the Sanctuary," but not enough to enable it to use them. Any church having copies of this book which are not needed in its service could scarcely do better with them than to send them to this courageous little church.
From Crossville, Tenn., we have this appeal: "It would be esteemed a great favor if some church could furnish our people with a donation of hymn books for church singing. You may know of some church having a new supply of hymn books who would be pleased to give this poor flock on the mountains their old books. If so, they would be thankful, and highly appreciate the favor."
VACATION AT TOUGALOO.
BY FIELD SUPERINTENDENT E.S. HALL.
Awake? With the "Rat-a-tat Quir-r-k, tat-tat" of the great crimson-crested woodpecker hammering just for noisy fun on the wide cornice of the "mansion," with the summer sun shining in through the window, and the five o'clock bell pealing sharply from Strieby Hall, the seven sleepers would have to be awake and doing at Tougaloo University.
The mercury is passing the 72° point at sunrise; but the morning, as the sunshine sparkles on the dewy grass between the wide-spreading live-oaks of the grove, seems as cool as a morning on the Berkshire hills. The wide-rolling plantation fields to the west give no hint of the long hot mid-day hours when the cotton revels in a heat that sends all animate nature to the deepest coverts.
The Tougaloo grounds are a paradise for all feathered life. The quail with their cheery "Bob White" whistle in the kitchen garden, following in plain sight the boys hoeing out the "grass." The blue-jays, martins and mocking birds render a trip to the Paris Exposition entirely unnecessary, if one wishes to hear all parties talk at the same moment and in unintelligible syllables. Curious, is'nt it, that these shy denizens of field and forest are so bold, in term as well as vacation time, where these colored lads and lasses congregate, for people of a low, brutal nature, incapable of any spark of generosity or ambition, are no friends to innocent nature. The papers that characterize the Negro as such, a creature unfit to live in a white man's country, cannot be blinded by prejudice!
What of the human life at Tougaloo? College is out; the teachers are in the far North. Miss Emerson, Preceptress of the Girl's Hall; Mr. Hitchcock, Treasurer; Mr. Klein, Superintendent of the Farm; and Mr. Kennedy, Superintendent of Carpentry; and Mr. McKibban, borrowed from Macon school, are present to supervise the necessary work, for Tougaloo cannot be closed a day. With its farm and forest and its shops, it is to become for the Southwest what Hampton is for the Eastern South. May the Lord prompt some of his stewards to make investments here which will bring in a ten-fold interest for the nation and for heaven!
The dining-hall shows a number of tables well filled at meal times. Most interesting are the ten little girls whom Miss Emerson has taken to bring up to womanhood with habits of industry and economy, and with characters pure and joyous. Each day has its routine for them; the bedroom, the dining-room, the kitchen, the sewing-room, the lesson hour, the play time and the period for personal advice and religious instruction, have their appropriate but never-forgotten place.
There are a dozen of the large girls, young women who do the washing, "clean house," cook the daily meals and can fruit from the garden and orchard for the Sunday-night dish of sauce during the coming year. Part of these are girls in the regular domestic course, a few are kept to work for their board and instruction rather than have them obliged to go into the cotton fields at home under unscrupulous overseers. These girls have a long, busy day, for the work needed to keep any one of the great boarding schools in efficient operation would surprise any one of our contributing friends who has never been "thro' the mill."
The boys—little fellows some of them only seventy-two inches tall in their bare feet—comprise the regular students in the industrial courses; the baker, the butcher or meat boy, the irrepressible John boy of all work about the kitchen; then the stock, the farm, the carpenter and blacksmith apprentices, together with several kept for general help, for work of an unusual magnitude was to be undertaken this vacation.
The Girl's Hall, a great three story building with seven thousand five hundred square feet of ground plan, had been slowly settling into this treacherous alluvium, which is three hundred feet deep to the first sand and gravel, until the building was in danger of falling. Southern contractors advised taking it down because it could not be safely repaired. But the American Missionary Association's force was equal to the emergency. The weight, with the resulting strains and thrusts, was calculated. Concrete footings of sufficient area were planned, brick piers and heavy timbering were skillfully placed, and the building will stand stronger than new and much improved in plan.
If these youths, who pulled on the forty-eight great "jack-screws," lifting and blocking up the building section by section, who excavated exactly to the surveyor's stakes, who mixed concrete and mortar, who framed and handled the huge "hard pine" timbers, who earnestly undertook whatever was told them—for this was new and strange work—if these youths had not been "Negroes," the outside world would have been glad to picture them in magazine and review.
The writer has had a long experience as master of a boy's boarding school in the North, situated in a village which also contained a young ladies' seminary. Had those young people been as sober and in earnest as these dusky-skinned ones, as free from midnight mischief, how many weary vigils would he have escaped!
The religious life at Tougaloo does not cease with term time. Two or three young men go out to hold Sunday services in the country cabins, the Sunday-school is full and the older ones serve as teachers, for many children come in from surrounding fields, making a school of nearly one hundred teachers and pupils. The young people's society meeting each Sunday afternoon, and the prayer meetings on Sunday and Wednesday evenings are characterized by a quiet, earnest Christianity, that would do credit to any circle in our Northern States.
FROM A TEACHER IN THE TENNESSEE MOUNTAINS.
Let me tell you of the general interest manifest in several of the counties west and north of us in attending this school. One of our students has visited many cabins over the mountains during his vacation, and finds school advantages very scarce and poor. He finds poverty and degradation, and ignorance of the world and of books. Some of the people are still using the old-time method of kindling their fires by flint and steel instead of matches. He has met many young people who are thirsting for books and school, has also found numbers who have struggled up through the darkness and have become teachers in their own neighborhood, "the blind leading the blind." Such almost invariably wish to come to our school and say they shall be here as soon as their schools close. Many are too poor to come. This is true of a number of young girls who would come if they could work their board or in any possible way pay for it. Whoever will provide funds to meet the expenses of these neglected girls, and place them in our school and prepare them for the future duties of life, will be doing an angelic work, and in the end will do the greatest good that can be done to this people. Very much of the money spent for this mountain people will be the same as thrown away if this effort is not made to educate the girls.
The natives are having their big yearly meetings and lively times shouting and actually chasing each other in and around their log churches to pull them to the "mourner's bench," and, in their wild efforts, they upset stove pipes and benches. It is so much like a circus that everybody runs to the big meetings.
SIGNS OF PROGRESS.
BY PRES. R.C. HITCHCOCK.
Every little while, some article giving ultra views of "The Problem," gets into the papers, sometimes painting a roseate-hued picture, and again some one, who does not find people of dusky hue all angels, writes that there is no hope; that all experiments leading to intellectual and especially to moral elevation are failures; and that she (as one wrote) is ready or almost ready, "to throw away the Bible and advise the negroes to be honestly heathen."
I will indicate a few plain signs of progress. The negroes are rapidly learning self-control. Six years ago, if a package was left in the hall over night, there would be signs in the morning that it had been meddled with. The contents might be all there—I have not found them greatly given to peculation, from the first—but they did not seem to have the power to resist the temptation to peep. Now, this is never done; a package of any kind may be left where it is freely accessible for weeks, and it will be untouched.
The first time a fire occurred in our neighborhood, what a panic there was! All were screaming and tearing about, trunks were dragged out of rooms, and one boy threw his out of a second story window. It was all we could possibly do to quiet them and restore order. Since then, there has been a fire so near as to scorch the rear fence and no panic, no screaming, hardly a student left his room. Formerly, on the receipt of bad news, as the intelligence of the death of a friend, it was not uncommon for one to have a fit of hysterics or something resembling it; now, such news is received with deep feeling indeed, and with tears, but no hysterics or fit of any kind.
There is, also, a grand growth in the sister virtue of gratitude. In this, they have more to overcome, probably, than in any other matter, for here they carry an inheritance of great weight, from the old slave days. Why should they be grateful? What chance to exercise the feeling! It became, like the eyes of the fish in the Styx of Mammoth Cave, useless, and to all appearances disappeared. But the germ is there, and with light it will again come to the surface.
I could cite scores of anecdotes. I will give but one, and I give this because it also illustrates a most loveable trait of character which abounds among these people—sympathy for suffering. Mrs. H. and myself started one day, to drive from New Iberia to the Avery salt mine, some ten miles distant. It was Monday following a hard Sunday's work speaking; it was as hot as days can be out in the Teche country, and when a little more than half way there, I was suffering from a terrific headache. We were too far to go back, and so drove on. Arrived at the "Island," we drove, as directed, to the boarding house, seeking a place where I could at least lie down, to find only a shed filled with tables, where the men ate, going elsewhere to sleep. I asked Mrs. H. to drive on and, holding on behind the carriage, was groping my way along, more dead than alive, when I heard a voice cry out, "Why, howdy, Professor, how ever came you here?" Glad was I to hear a friendly voice. It was that of a young girl who had been, some months before, a visitor at the University, and to whom I had given a little book and spoken some friendly words. My bread came back to me—a whole loaf for a crumb. All day long, she and her mother, who left her wash tub to attend to me, worked over my miserable head. A mile and more she ran in the burning sun for ice, and no herb that grew on "Petit Anse" from which a decoction could be made, was left untried, until ice, herbs, and a tough constitution prevailed, and I was able to ride home. I offered pay, but it was almost indignantly refused. I wish space would allow me to tell a hundred stories to illustrate their kind-heartedness, not only to each other, but to strangers, and even to their old masters and mistresses.
Their Christian faith is something wonderful. It has been my blessed privilege to be at the bedside of several young people as the death angel hovered near, and nowhere did I ever feel so near the pearly gates. Such pure faith and perfect confidence, such perfect resignation, one could almost hear the rustle of the wings as Azrael bent down to take the sweet spirit home.
They have gained much in stability of character. Frivolity and silly nonsense are not the rule. Our boys and girls who go out to teach, carry a load of responsibility with them. Some of the parishes have been almost entirely transformed by their work. Three of our boys last summer built the school houses in which they taught, the people contributing time, lumber and money, and they are the only school houses in the State, outside of the large towns, that were built for, or are fit for, the purpose. Two of them have halls above for meetings, are fitted up with blackboards, desks, etc. The stories our boys tell of their efforts to introduce modern appliances and methods, remind me of those I used to hear from the old veterans Barnard, Camp, and others, of their struggles in the early days in Connecticut.
They have grown in cleanliness and industry beyond expression. When I first came here, it was sometimes harder to get a bit of work done than to do it myself. Now, it is a pleasure to work with them.
In nothing, perhaps, has there been so great a gain as in the habit of reading. The progress in this is simply astonishing, and cannot be described in a few words. Seven years ago, there was hardly a reader in the school. Now, many of our young people come to my library and, looking over my books, talk of them and their authors as intelligently as young people of the same age in Massachusetts would.
I conclude by saying that, in this far-away corner, God has greatly blessed the efforts made by faithful teachers, and there is every cause for encouragement and hope.
OBITUARY.
Another of our educated, consecrated and useful colored pastors has passed away. Rev. Welborn Wright, pastor of the Second Congregational Church of Lawrence, Kansas, died at his home, August 14th, of consumption. He was born in South Carolina, and had been pastor of the church in Lawrence over six years. He was a man of thought, earnest in his convictions, and had acquired a large influence over his own people. His church had prospered greatly under his care.
He won the esteem of the white people. Two years ago he was elected a member of the Board of Education of the city, and proved himself to be a man of good judgment in practical affairs. His funeral was attended by Rev. Dr. Cordley, Rev. R.B. Parker and Rev. A.N. Richards. He was Secretary of the Minister's Meeting of Lawrence, and resolutions of warm commendation and sympathy for his family were passed by that body, and also by the Board of Education of Lawrence.
We have just learned that Mr. A.J. Berger, formerly industrial teacher at Macon, Georgia, died at Claremont, Virginia, September 2d, at the age of sixty-six years.
News has also come to us of the death of Miss J.P. Bradshaw, a former teacher at Tougaloo University, Miss. For five years she bravely battled for life, but finally died of consumption.
STUDENT'S LETTER.
A BIT OF EXPERIENCE.
BY A TALLADEGA STUDENT.
Not long since I was forcibly reminded of the work and worth of the schools of the American Missionary Association by witnessing the services in a church. In a room large enough to comfortably seat one hundred were fully two hundred and fifty, and a large crowd hovering about the door. There was abundance of singing and praying. The songs were mostly on the solo and chorus style—not set to music, what we call plantation or "made-up songs." While singing, the leader adds new words to suit his fancy and emotional fervor; thus the song often undergoes several changes of words in the course of a few months, all the time retaining the same tune. This is what is meant by "made-up songs." Among those of my people in whom the emotional tide runs high this kind of singing is very popular.
In that meeting, while singing the last part of each song the audience would rise and turn their backs toward the pulpit. One started the prayers, but soon the multitude of voices made it impossible to know who was leading or what was being said. The minister came in late. He slowly turned the pages of the Bible until he found his text. With a murmuring voice he read a few verses and began preaching. Moving off slowly, like an express train, he soon gathered a rapid motion of body and a furious rattling of words. With head down and the white of his eyes turned upward he kept up a constant spitting and walking for forty or forty-five minutes. All the while the hearers responded with thrilling animation. The sermon over, the singing was started as before for a long jubilee. A few nights ago, at such a meeting, not far from the writer's church, a young woman so mutilated her head while going through a muscular jubilation, that she had to go to the doctor to have her head repaired.
Less than a quarter of a mile away was another audience, not one-fourth as large as the one referred to above, with an educated preacher, worshiping in the spirit with the propriety and with the gentleness of the gospel. So unlike was the deportment and so different was the character of the two audiences that but for their common color one might have thought that they were composed of two distinct races. The question may be asked, what makes the difference? They are the same people, worshiping the same God out of the same Bible. Education and the lack of it make the difference.
The conduct of audiences like the first here spoken of seems to vary with the style of the speaker. I once preached to such a congregation. Their behavior was orderly. During the sermon their responses were a few amens. Knowing their habit in worship, I was somewhat annoyed with the thought that I was muzzling their feelings and the sooner I got through the gladder they would be. That class of people have a way of calling the minister "Cold water preacher," if he does not preach them into something like a spell of hallucination. Their composure led me to believe that I would earn the title. Still I endured, and endeavored to give the plain truth plainly and earnestly; having a strong feeling that as I was in authority I must command in the right way. After dismission, many said to me, "You gave us the pure word and we enjoyed it." "That's what we need," said another. I was heartily invited to come again. I find now I am welcome with that people.
"The fields are white already to harvest." Great is the opportunity of the rich and enlightened churches. The helpfulness of our schools to my people and to the country, is beyond calculation. Our missionary schools are like so many lighthouses along this dark belt of the Union. Their light is being reflected by thousands of colored youth who without these schools would have grown up in gross ignorance.
This brings to mind an incident of my life, which now I believe was providential. Seventeen years ago, when my education was very limited, while working in a restaurant, I visited Talladega College and was deeply impressed with the school, and the intelligence and advancement of the boys. I decided that I would enter school immediately, and did so, though my money was scarce and a few weeks before I had agreed to continue work in the restaurant at twelve dollars per month, board and bed furnished. That was good wages for a boy of my age, but I know now that giving it up and going to school was a thousand times higher wages for me. I felt my imperfections so keenly then I was ashamed to talk to the boys in the college. The stimulation for an education, which I received on that visit to Talladega College has never left me. I regard it most fortunate for an ignorant young man to visit our best schools.