The prime object we have in view in urging our appeal for increased contributions at the present time is that, if possible, we may obtain relief from threatening financial embarrassment before the summer months are upon us. When the ministers are in their own pulpits, and when the people are in their own pews, then is the time to make an effort. Unfortunately for some years past, we have been obliged to make special appeals during the summer months. We had no option. It was appeal or suffer. We have always felt the disadvantage. We were obliged to call, and yet we were conscious that those who ought to hear did not hear, and that many who heard felt constrained to do more than they really could afford. Many a time we would have gladly returned donations to friends who made altogether too great sacrifice in giving what they did. Cannot this evil be remedied? That is the question we wish to press during the few weeks that are now passing. Brethren and friends, before the vacation days come, can you not so roll up on your gifts to the treasury of the A. M. A. that when the summer is fairly here and you are gone to the mountains, to the seaside, across the ocean, or elsewhere, our anxieties shall be allayed and the danger of our being obliged to make special appeals shall be averted? “’Tis a consummation most devoutly to be wished.”
Our Treasurer frequently receives gifts in the form of cherished keepsakes. These keepsakes are associated with the memory of loved ones now dead, and they represent much more than any money value can measure. A widow, to whom a watch was the chief material reminder of her husband, heard the appeal of the American Missionary Association, and having no money to give, sends that watch that it may be sold in the market and the money go into our work. A friend of hers, who sent the watch to us, writes: “Favored with but few of this world’s goods, yet not daring to plead this as an excuse for not giving, she felt heavenly drawings to give to the Lord this cherished memento of the dear departed one. Having known her for many years as a Dorcas in the church, I cheerfully write these few words, not because of the intrinsic value of the gift, but because it is indeed the widow’s mite, and in God’s sight the widow’s mite may be more than the costly offerings of the wealthy.” Such gifts greatly encourage us, because they tell of affection and devotion and sacrifice.
We wish to guard our work and friends from imposition. Not necessarily imposition in the bad sense. It is to shield them from making donations to objects that in themselves may be worthy, under the impression that they are giving to the work of the A. M. A., when they are doing no such thing. There are a great many schools, of one kind and another, that have been started at the South among the colored people by private parties, on a purely independent basis. Complaint comes to us frequently that circulars and letters begging for funds with which to carry on these independent enterprises are being continually received, and that funds are diverted from our treasury on that account. Many contribute in response to these appeals under the impression that they are giving to the A. M. A. These independent ventures differ from our work in one very important respect. All our institutions are under supervision and are held to a strict responsibility and scrutiny. These others to which we refer are irresponsible and not supervised. Many of them are carried on with what we should consider a great lack of economy, and some of them are in the field because those that control them were uncomfortable under supervision. They knew too much to be counseled with and would not be advised. We ask our friends to be careful in the confidence they give to every applicant, who, taking the files of the American Missionary, uses the United States post-office as a means of gaining entrance to their homes and charity. We have no right to dictate to our friends where they shall spend their money. That is their own business. But we feel that it is our duty to advise them of the complaints that come to us, and to put them on their guard against imposition from every quarter.
The Color Line in Art.—The Art Students’ League of New York recently admitted to its membership Mr. Geo. Alex. Bickles, a colored youth of nineteen years. He is the first colored student ever admitted to the League. A few of the students were inclined to be angry because he was admitted. They wanted to draw the color line. They tried to work up a feeling of antagonism against the management. They called a meeting of the students, introduced a series of resolutions against the admission of colored students, but they were ingloriously defeated. To add to their chagrin, they were informed that even had their resolutions passed, the management would have taken no notice of them. Mr. Bickles is a bright young man, who until recently was a stable boy at Islip, L.I. He has a remarkable talent for drawing and painting, and his sketches are to be found in many a home in that Long Island village. Several prominent Brooklyn gentlemen having summer residences at Islip, recognized the young man’s ability and urged him to quit the stable and study art. This is the reason why he is now a student of the Art League, and there is this to his credit, that he has been admitted to its membership upon the merit of his work. In addition to being a good painter, he is also a fine musician.
A German, who owned a large plantation and many slaves near Savannah, Ga., at his death manumitted his slaves. Some of them were his own children. Two of his boys he sent to Germany and had them thoroughly educated. It was the design of the planter to have his property go to his freed children, as they were the only children he had. The war came and the State confiscated the property. One of the boys has been for many years a missionary of the A. M. A. He spends half an hour daily teaching German to the daughter of a prominent white citizen. Our missionary writes: “Yesterday, while busy teaching this little one, a visitor looked in and asked the mother in German, ‘What are you doing?’ She replied, ‘My little daughter is taking lessons.’ Visitor said something about ‘nigger.’ The lady held up her hand, as the stranger drew back in the next room, and said to him, ‘That is the German translator.’ The visitor answered, ‘Is that the one?’ The conversation was now carried on in an undertone. Whenever I go to discharge my duty at the above mentioned house, I am kindly treated. Whenever I call on the German Lutheran minister, Dr. Bowman, of Savannah, he treats me with kindness and respect. The language of the visitor made little impression on me, for in Germany I have been taught to respect an honest man, not his color. The United States is a strange place.”