On April 3d we arrived at New Orleans at nine A. M., in time to attend a colored Sunday-school. At its close I gave them a little talk. From thence we were piloted to the Bethel Methodist Church (colored) and found a quarterly meeting being held. Here we listened to a very interesting and intelligent discourse by Rev. William Dove. I made a few remarks on the comparison of present times with the former. At the close of the service many came forward to shake hands and tell us of the time when ministers and people were hauled out of this church of their own building and taken to jail. The free people were compelled to pay twenty-five dollars' fine, and slaves were punished with twenty-five lashes on the bare back, well laid on. This persecution the authorities deemed necessary in order to keep these poor people from rising in insurrection. They locked up their churches two years and a half, until the Union soldiers unlocked them. Though the authorities forbade their meeting at all, they often stole away two and three miles and held little meetings in deep ravines and in clumps of bushes and trees, to hide from their cruel pursuers; but they could not even there long escape their vigilant enemies. "Insurrection! INSURRECTION!" was constantly inflaming the guilty multitude. Imprisoning, putting into stocks, and all sorts of punishments seemed to be the order of the day.
A few months after the closing of their church the spotted fever broke out, slaying its thousands. An old pious colored woman said to one who was losing all his family, and called upon her to assist them: "Now, who is plotting insurrection? Who you gwine to take to jail now? Who you gwine to whip an' hang now? You can't take God out to jail." They heard that their enemies had concluded to stop their praying, for it was thought to be through the prayers of the colored people that all this trouble was sent upon them; for the plague was almost entirely confined to the white people. This class of accusers became even more bitter than before.
No one can look at this volume of history without calling to mind the hardness of heart of the ancient Egyptians.
CHAPTER XII.
MISSION WORK IN NEW ORLEANS.
At New Orleans, where we arrived April 6, 1864, our home was a very pleasant one. Beneath the windows of our room was a grove of fig-trees. We had the kindest of friends.
We visited ten colored schools in the city, filled with eager learners. One was taught by Mrs. Brice, who had in charge sixty scholars. She had been teaching here three years, under much persecution, and stemmed the torrent of opposition, sometimes in secret, before the war. Sister Brice and her husband had been struggling in this city nearly five years, through this bitter hate to the North, contending for Unionism everywhere, through civil, religious, and political life. We called on them, and spent two hours in eating oranges and listening to the fanaticisms and wild conceptions of this misguided people and terror-stricken multitude when the "Yankee" soldiers marched up the streets from the gun-boats. Schools were dismissed; the children cried as they ran home, telling those they met that the Yankees had come to kill them and their mothers. But there were those who cried for joy at the sight of the national flag. The starting tear manifested the deep feeling of these friends as they attempted to relate the scene, but said it was impossible, as it was beyond description. It seemed like an oasis in a desert to meet such kindred spirits. We left them, with their urgent request to make, another call before we left the city.
We were invited by the pastor to attend a love-feast meeting at half-past six o'clock, P. M., where we met a large congregation. The services were opened as usual.
Soon they were "breaking bread" with each other, shaking hands, and singing. Many were weeping. Some broke to each other the bread, exclaiming, "Praise God for this day of liberty to worship God!" One old man said to one of the ministers, as he placed his hand on his shoulder: "Bless God, my son, we don't have to keep watch at that door," pointing to it, "to tell us the patrollers are coming to take us to jail and fine us twenty-five dollars for prayin' and talkin' of the love of Jesus. O no, we's FREE! Yes, thank God for freedom!" Clapping his hands, his shouts of "Glory, glory, hallelujah!" were followed by others, until "Glory, hallelujah to the Lamb forever!" was heard from many voices. Men clasped the necks of their brethren, and shook hands with the sisters, singing, weeping, shouting, jumping, and whirling. Said one woman, as she clasped another, "O sister, don't you 'member when da tuck us over in dat jail dat night, an' said da would whip us if we didn't stop prayin'?" and then they both jumped and shouted, throwing up their hands in wild excitement. A half-hour was spent in these outbursts of long pent-up feelings; then they settled down into comparative quiet, and the pastor exhorted them to be brief in their remarks. Perhaps an hour was spent in the relation of experiences, and the meeting closed with singing:
"The jubilee has come;
And we are free, we are free."