“The occurrences of the past two weeks in the town of Huntingdon should prove conclusively to the colored citizens that there is a certain line existing between themselves and the white people which they cannot cross with impunity. The incident which prompts us to write this article, is the thrashing which a white gentleman administered to a colored woman last week. With no wish to foster a spirit of lawlessness in this community, but actuated by a desire to see the negro keep in his proper place, we advise white men everywhere to stand up for their rights, and in no case yield an inch to the encroachment of an inferior race.”
“Stand up for their rights,” with this editor, means for the white ruffianly coward to knock down every colored lady that does not give up the entire sidewalk to him or his wife.
It was my good fortune to meet on several occasions Miss Florence T. Hayes, the young lady above alluded to, and I never came in contact with a more retiring, lady-like person in my life. She is a student of Tennessee Central College, where she bears an unstained reputation, and is regarded by all who know her to possess intellectual gifts far superior to the average white young women of Tennessee.
Spending a night in the country, we had just risen from the supper-table when mine host said:
“Listen, Mingo is telling how he re-converted his daughter; listen, you’ll hear a rich story, and a true one.” Mr. Mingo lived in the adjoining room.
“Yes, Mrs. Jones, my darter has bin home wissitin’ me, an’ I had a mighty trial wid her, I can tell yer.”
“What was the matter, Mr. Mingo?” inquired the visitor.
“Well, yer see, Fanny’s bin a-livin’ in Philamadelfy, an’ she’s a mighty changed ’oman in her ways. When she come in de house, she run up to her mammy and say,—‘O! mar, I’m exquisitely pleased to greet you.’ Den she run ter me an’ sed,—‘O! par,’ an’ kiss me. Well, dat was all well enuff, but to see as much as two yards of her dress a-dragin’ behind her on de floor, it was too much,—an’ it were silk, too. It made my heart ache. Ses I,—‘Fanny, you’s very stravagant, dragin’ all dat silk on de floor in dat way.’ ‘O!’ sed she, ‘that’s the fashion, par.’ Den, yer see, I were uneasy fer her. I were ’fraid she’d fall, fer she had on a pair of boots wid the highess heels I eber see in my life, which made her walk as ef she were walkin’ on her toes. Den, she were covered all over wid ribbons and ruffles.
“When we set down to dinner, Fanny eat wid her fork, an’ when she see her sister put de knife in her mouf, she ses,—‘Don’t put your knife in your mouth; that’s vulgar.’ Nex’ mornin’, she took out of her pocket some seeds, an’ put ’em in a tin cup, an’ pour bilin’ hot water on ’em. Ses I,—‘Fanny, is yer sick, an’ gwine to take some medicine?’
“‘O! no, par, it’s quince seed, to make some gum-stick-um.’