“In those portions of the South where the plantations were largest, and the slaves the most numerous, they were very fond of burying their dead at night, and as near midnight as possible. In case of a funeral, they assembled from adjoining plantations in large numbers, provided with pine knots and pieces of fat pine called lightwood, which, when ignited, made a blaze compared with which our city torchlight processions are most sorry affairs. When all was in readiness, they lighted these torches, formed into a procession, and marched slowly to the distant grave, singing the most solemn music. Sometimes they sang hymns they had committed to memory, but oftener those more tender and plaintive, composed by themselves, that have since been introduced to the people of the North and of Europe as plantation melodies. The appearance of such a procession, winding through the fields and woods, as revealed by their flaming torches, marching slowly to the sound of their wild music, was weird and imposing to the highest degree.”–From “In the Brush,” by Rev. H. W. Pierson, D.D.
An old-time midnight slave funeral.
Two or three second-hand communion sets will be very gratefully received by as many of our needy young churches in the South. Churches at the North changing from their present to better will please take note.
There were twins in this country. One was slavery and the other polygamy. One is dead and the other is threatened as never before. This Association is proud of the part it took in the extinction of the former. It now extends its heartiest sympathies to those who are determined upon the destruction of the latter.
A postal from one of our schools at the South says: “We received recently a good-sized box of books and only a few of any value. Latin books of ancient date, German, French, Spanish, and Patent Office Reports are of no use to us. Please ask our friends not to send such, as they are only a bill of expense.” We have had, heretofore, to make statements of this sort in the Missionary. We are always thankful for the liberality of our friends, but we invoke their discretion in giving.