I provided a school and church for these loving, dusky children, and it was pathetic and cheering to see them all, from the tiny pickaninnies to the tottering gray heads, going regularly with their primers and Bibles, trying to learn to read and write.
Many pleasant evenings in midwinter we sat on our vine-clad piazza, enjoying the balmy breezes, perfumed with the delicious orange blossoms, looking at the stately pines glorified by moonlight and starlight; listening to the songs of these dark-faced but white-souled serenaders, the whites of whose eyes and perfect teeth could be seen beaming upon us through the dusky shades of the forest.
On the evening of the day when news arrived of the first election of Grover Cleveland to the Presidency, we were sitting as usual on our piazza, when, suddenly, I saw a flash of fire in the woods, followed by the report of a rifle, then others in quick succession. Rushing to the scene I found a few Southern whites armed with repeating rifles, facing a large band of negroes carrying a motley array of pitchforks, scythes, razors, clubs, and a few ancient shotguns. Yelling: "Hold up!" I sprang between the embattled hosts, and demanded to know what was the row.
"Get out of the way, you damned Yankee," shrieked the crackers, "or we'll riddle you with bullets." Then they gave the far-reaching, fiendish, rebel yell.
"Shoot," I replied, "if you want to be hung."
—"Boys," I said, turning to the darkies, "what's the matter?"
"Oh, boss, massa Linkum's dead, de Dimikrat am Presidunt, und we poo' niggers be slabes agin. We fight, we die, but we won't be slabes agin, neber."
Again came the roar of rifles behind me and the minnie balls went shrieking over our heads. "Boys," I shouted, "you are mistaken. A million Northern soldiers will march down here if necessary to prevent that; go at once to your homes; I will take care of you." Slowly the colored men, who trusted me implicitly, melted away in the darkness. Again the rebel yell, again the rifle shots high in the air. "Gentlemen," said I, to the menacing whites, "come with me to the Hall, I want to talk with you."
"To hell with you!" they yelled, but followed me into the building.
When they had sullenly taken seats, with guns threateningly at the ready, they glared at me like tigers ready to spring. Soon a man, I had, on my way, sent to the store, arrived with a box of good Florida cigars, and I quietly passed them around to my "lions couchant," took a seat on the platform facing them, lit up, and commenced the enjoyment of a silent smoke, they following suit.