His paper that he carries speaks of him as a man “gifted in revival efforts,” and he at once sets about getting up a revival meeting. This tramp, for he cannot be called anything else, has with him generally a hymn-book, and an old faded, worn-out carpet-bag, with little or nothing in it. He remains in a place just as long as the people will keep him, which usually depends upon his ability to keep up an excitement. I met a swarm of these lazy fellows all over the South, the greatest number, however, in West Virginia.
The only remedy for this great evil lies in an educated ministry, which is being supplied to a limited extent. It is very difficult, however, to induce the uneducated, superstitious masses to receive and support an intelligent Christian clergyman.
The great interest felt in the South for education amongst the colored people often produce scenes of humor peculiar to the race. Enjoying the hospitality of a family in West Virginia, I was not a little amused at the preparation made for the reception of their eldest son, who had been absent six months at Wilberforce College. A dinner with a turkey, goose, pair of fowls, with a plentiful supply of side dishes, and apple dumplings for dessert, was on the table at the hour that the son was expected from the train.
An accident delayed the cars to such an extent that we were at the table and dinner half through, when suddenly the door flew open, and before us stood the hope of the family. The mother sprang up, raised her hands and exclaimed, “Well, well, ef dar ain’t Peter, now. De Lord bress dat chile, eh, an’ how college-like he seems. Jess look at him, don’t he look edecated? Come right here dis minit an’ kiss your mammy.”
During this pleasant greeting, Peter stood near the door where he had entered; dressed in his college rig, small cap on his head, bag swung at his side, umbrella in the left hand, and a cigar in the right, with a smile on his countenance, he looked the very personification of the Harvard student. The father of the family, still holding his knife and fork, sat with a glow upon his face, while the two youngsters, taking advantage of the occasion, were helping themselves to the eatables.
At the bidding, “Come an’ kiss your mammy,” Peter came forward and did the nice thing to all except the youngest boy, who said, “I can’t kiss yer now, Pete, wait till I eat dees dumplins, den I’ll kiss yer.”
Dinner over, and Peter gave us some humorous accounts of college life, to the great delight of his mother, who would occasionally exclaim, “Bress de chile, what a hard time he muss hab dar at de college. An’ how dem boys wory’s him. Well, people’s got to undergo a heap to git book larnin’, don’t dey?”
At night the house was filled, to see the young man from college.