And so he had; for he had made up in his mind within the last two hours that he would join the Confederacy. "That live or die, sink or swim, survive or perish," he would unite his fortunes to her destiny.

His next step then was to plan how he could reach Louisiana; he felt confident that if he could get as far as Louisville he could manage to get into Tennessee, and from thence to Louisiana.

And so nothing daunted by difficulties and dangers, he set out on his journey, and being aided by rebels on his way in a few weeks he reached the old plantation on Red River; he found his sister and Miriam there both glad to see him.

Camilla's husband was in Charleston, some of the slaves had deserted to the Union ranks, but the greater portion she still retained with her.

Miriam was delighted to see Louis, and seemed never weary of admiring his handsome face and manly form. And Louis, who had never known any other mother seemed really gratified by her little kindnesses and attention; but of course the pleasant and quiet monotony of home did not suit the restless and disquieted spirit of Louis. All the young men around here were in the army or deeply interested in its success.

There was a call for more volunteers, and a new company was to be raised in that locality. Louis immediately joined, and turned his trained intellect to the study of military tactics; day and night he was absorbed in this occupation, and soon, although Minnie was not forgotten, the enthusiasm of his young life gathered around the Confederate cause.

He did not give himself much time to reflect. Thought was painful to him, and he continued to live in a whirl of excitement.

News of battle, tidings of victory and defeats, the situation of the armies, and the hopes and fears that clustered around those fearful days of struggle made the staple of conversation.

Louis rapidly rose in favor with the young volunteers, and was chosen captain of a company who were permitted to drill and stay from the front as a reserve corps, ready to be summoned at any moment.



Chapter XIII

Miriam and Camilla watched with anguish Louis' devotion to the Confederation, and many sorrowful conversations they had about it.

At last one day Miriam said, "Miss Camilla, I can stand it no longer;—that boy is going to lift his hand agin his own people, and I can't stand it no longer; I'se got to tell him all about it. I just think I'd bust in two if I didn't tell him."

"Well, Mammy," said Camilla, "I'd rather he should know it than that he should go against his country and raise his hand against the dear old flag."

"It's not the flag nor the country I care for," said Miriam, "but it is that one of my own flesh and blood should jine with these secesh agin his own people."

"Well, Miriam, if you get a chance you can tell him."

"Get a chance, Miss Camilla, I'se bound to get that."

Louis was somewhat reticent about his plans; for he knew that Camilla was a strong Union woman; that she not only loved the flag, but she had taught her two boys to do the same; but he understood from headquarters that his company was to march in a week, and although on that subject there was no common sympathy between them, yet he felt that he must acquaint her with his plans, and bid her and Miriam good-bye.

So one morning he came in looking somewhat flushed and excited, and said: "Sister, we have got our marching orders; we leave on Thursday, and I have only three days to be with you. I am sorry that I have seen so little of you, but my country calls me, and when she is in danger it is no time for me to seek for either ease or pleasure."

"Your country! Louis," said Miriam, her face paling and flushing by turns. "Where is your country?"

"Here," said he, somewhat angrily, "in Louisiana."

"My country," said Camilla,[7] "is the whole Union. Yes, Louis," said she, "your country is in danger, but not from the Abolitionists in the North, but from the rebels and traitors in the South."

"Rebels and traitors!" said Louis, in a tone like one who felt the harsh grating of the words.

"Whom do you mean?"

"I mean," said she, "the ambitious, reckless men who have brought about this state of things. The men who are stabbing their country in their madness and folly; who are crowding our graves and darkening our homes; who are dragging our young men, men like you, who should be the pride and hope of our country, into the jaws of ruin and death."

Louis looked surprised and angry; he had never seen Camilla under such deep excitement. Her words had touched his pride and roused his anger; but suppressing his feelings he answered her coolly, "Camilla, I am old enough to do my own thinking. We had better drop this subject; it is not pleasant to either of us."

"Louis," said she, her whole manner changing from deep excitement to profound grief, "Oh, Louis, it will never do for you to go! Oh, no, you must not!"

"And why not?"

"Because,"—and she hesitated. Just then Miriam took up the unfinished sentence,"—because to join the secesh is to raise your hands agin your own race."

"My own race?" and Louis laughed scornfully. "I think you are talking more wildly than Camilla. What do you mean, Miriam?"

"I mean," said she, stung by his scornful words, "I mean that you, Louis Le Croix, white as you look, are colored, and that you are my own daughter's child, and if it had not been for Miss Camilla, who's been such an angel to you, that you would have been a slave to-day, and then you wouldn't have been a Confederate."

At these words a look of horror and anguish passed over the face of Le Croix, and he turned to Camilla, but she was deadly pale, and trembling like an aspen leaf; but her eyes were dry and tearless.

"Camilla," said he, turning fiercely to his adopted sister, "Tell me, is there any truth in these words? You are as pale as death, and trembling like a leaf,—tell me if there is any truth in these words," turning and fixing his eyes on Miriam, who stood like some ancient prophetess, her lips pronouncing some fearful doom, while she watched in breathless anguish the effect upon the fated victim.

"Yes, Louis," said Camilla, in a voice almost choked by emotion. "Yes, Louis, it is all true."

"But how is this that I never heard it before? Before I believe this tale I must have some proof, clear as daylight. Bring me proofs."

"Here they are," said Miriam, drawing from her pocket the free papers she had been carrying about her person for several days.

Louis grasped them nervously, hastily read them, and then more slowly, like one who might read a sentence of death to see if there was one word or sentence on which he might hang a hope of reprieve.

Camilla watched him anxiously, but silently, and when he had finished, he covered his bowed face with his hands as he said with a deep groan, "It is true, too true. I see it all. I can never raise my hand against my mother's race."

He arose like one in a dream, walked slowly to the door and left the room.

"It was a painful task," said Camilla, with a sigh of relief, as if a burden had fallen from her soul.

"Yes," said Miriam, "but not so bad as to see him fighting agin his own color. I'd rather follow him to his grave than see him join that miserable secesh crew."

"Yes," said Camilla, "It was better than letting him go."

When Louis left the room a thousand conflicting thoughts passed through his mind. He felt as a mariner at midnight on a moonless sea, who suddenly, when the storm is brewing, finds that he has lost his compass and his chart.



Chapter XIV

Where was he steering; and now, the course of his life was changed, what kind of future must he make for himself?

Had it been in time of peace, he could have easily decided, as he had a large amount of money in the North, which his father left him when he came of age.

He would have no difficulty as to choosing the means of living; for he was well supplied, as far as that was concerned; but here was a most unpleasant dilemma in which he had placed himself.

Convinced that he was allied to the Negro race, his whole soul rose up against the idea of laying one straw in its way; if he belonged to the race he would not join its oppressors. And yet his whole sympathy had been so completely with them, that he felt that he had no feeling in common with the North.

And as to the colored people, of course it never entered his mind to join their ranks, and ally himself to them; he had always regarded them as inferior; and this sudden and unwelcome revelation had not changed the whole tenor of his thoughts and opinions.

But what he had to do must be done quickly; for in less than three days his company would start for the front. To desert was to face death; to remain was to wed dishonor. He surveyed the situation calmly and bravely, and then resolved that he would face the perils of re-capture rather than the contempt of his own soul.

While he was deciding, he heard Camilla's step in the passage; he opened the door, and beckoned her to a seat, and said, very calmly, "I have been weighing the whole matter in my mind, and I have concluded to leave the South."

"How can you do it?" said Camilla. "I tremble lest you should be discovered. Oh slavery! what a curse. Our fathers sowed the wind, and we are reaping the whirlwind! What," continued she, as if speaking to herself, "What are your plans? Have you any?"

"None, except to disguise myself and escape."

"When?"

"As soon as possible."

"Suppose I call Miriam. She can help you. Shall I?"

"Yes."

Camilla called Miriam, and after a few moments consultation it was decided that Louis should escape that night, and that Miriam should prepare whatever was needed for his hasty flight.

"Don't trust your secret to any white person," said Miriam, "but if you meet any of the colored people, just tell them that you is for the Linkum soldiers, and it will be all right; we don't know all about this war, but we feels somehow we's all mixed up in it."

And so with many prayers and blessings from Miriam, and sad farewells from Camilla, he left his home to enter upon that perilous flight, the whole current of his life changed.

It was in the early part of Winter; but the air was just as pleasant as early Spring in that climate. Louis walked all that night, guiding himself northward at night by the light of the stars and a little pocket compass, Camilla had just given him before starting, and avoiding the public roads during the day.

And thus he travelled for two days, when his lunch was exhausted, his lips parched with thirst, and his strength began to fail.

Just in this hour of extremity he saw seated by the corner of a fence a very black and homely-looking woman; there was something so gloomy and sullen in her countenance that he felt repelled by its morose expression. Still he needed food, and was very weary, and drawing near he asked her if she would give him anything to eat.

"Ain't got nothing. De sojers done been here, and eat all up."

Louis drew near and whispered a few words in her ear, and immediately a change passed over her whole countenance. The sullen expression turned to a look of tenderness and concern. The harsh tones of her voice actually grew mellow, and rising up in haste she almost sprang over the fence, and said, "I'se been looking for you, if you's Northman you's mighty welcome," and she set before him her humble store of provisions.

"Do you know," said Louis, "where I will find the Lincoln soldiers, or where the secesh are encamped?"

"No," said she "but my old man's mighty smart, and he'll find out; you come wid me."

Nothing doubting he went, and found the husband ready to do anything in his power to help him.

"You's better not go any furder to-day. I'll get you a place to hide where nobody can't find you, and then I'll pump Massa 'bout the sojers."

True to his word, he contrived to find out whether the soldiers were near.

"Massa," said he, scratching his head, and looking quite sober, "Massa, hadn't I better hide the mules? Oh I's 'fraid the Linkum sojers will come take 'em, cause dey gobbles up ebery ting dey lays dere hans on, jis like geese. I yerd dey was coming; mus' I hide de mules?"

"No, Sam, the scalawags are more than a hundred miles away; they are near Natchez."

"Well, maybe, t'was our own Fedrate soldiers."

"No, Sam, our nearest soldiers are at Baton Rouge."

"All right Massa. I don't want to lose all dem fine mules."

As soon as it was convenient Sam gave Louis the desired information. "Here," said Sam, when Louis was ready to start again, "is something to break your fast, and if you goes dis way you musn't let de white folks know what you's up to, but you trust dis," said he, laying his hand on his own dark skin.

His new friend went with him several miles, and pointing him out the way left him to pursue his journey onward. The next person he met with was a colored man, who bowed and smiled, and took off his hat.

Louis returned the bow, and was passing on when he said, "Massa, 'scuse me for speakin' to you, but dem secesh been hunting all day for a 'serter, him captin dey say."

Louis turned pale, but bracing his nerves he said, "Where are they?"

"Dey's in the house; is you he?"

"I am a Union man," Louis said, "and am trying to reach the Lincoln soldiers."

"Den," said the man, "if dat am de fac I's got a place for you; come with me," and Louis having learned to trust the colored people followed him to a place of safety.

Soon it was noised abroad that another deserter had been seen in that neighborhood, but the colored man would not reveal the whereabouts of Louis. His master beat him severely, but he would let neither threats nor torture wring the secret from his lips.

Louis saw the faithfulness of that man, and he thought with shame of his former position to the race from whom such unswerving devotion could spring. The hunt proving ineffectual, Louis after the search and excitement had subsided resumed his journey Northward, meeting with first one act of kindness and then another.

One day he had a narrow escape from the bloodhounds. He had trusted his secret to a colored man who, faithful like the rest, was directing him on his way when deep ominous sounds fell on their ears. The colored man knew that sound too well; he knew something of the nature of bloodhounds, and how to throw them off the track.

So hastily opening his pen-knife he cut his own feet so that the blood from them might deepen the scent on one track, and throw them off from Louis's path.

It was a brave deed, and nobly done, and Louis began to feel that he had never known them, and then how vividly came into his mind the words of Dr. Charming: "After all we may be trampling on one of the best branches of the human race." Here were men and women too who had been trampled on for ages ready to break to him their bread, aye share with him their scanty store.

One had taken the shoes from his feet and almost forced him to take them. What was it impelled these people? What was the Union to them, and who were Lincoln's soldiers that they should be so ready to gravitate to the Union army and bring the most reliable information to the American General?

Was it not the hope of freedom which they were binding as amulets around their hearts? They as a race had lived in a measure upon an idea; it was the hope of a deliverance yet to come. Faith in God had underlain the life of the race, and was it strange if when even some of our politicians did not or could not read the signs of the times aright these people with deeper intuitions understood the war better than they did.

But at last Louis got beyond the borders of the confederacy, and stood once more on free soil, appreciating that section as he had never done before.



Chapter XV

[Text missing.]



Chapter XVI

"And I," said Minnie, "will help you pay it."

And so their young hearts had met at last, and with the approval and hearty consent of Anna, Minnie and Louis were married.

It was decided that Minnie should spend the winter in Southern France, and then in the spring they returned to America. On their arrival they found the war still raging, and Louis was ready and anxious to benefit that race to whom he felt he owed his life, and with whom he was connected by lineage.

He had plenty of money, a liberal education, and could have chosen a life of ease, but he was too ardent in his temperament, too decided in his character, not to feel an interest in the great events which were then transpiring in the country.

He made the acquaintance of some Anti-Slavery friends, and listened with avidity to their doctrines; he attended a number of war meetings, and caught the enthusiasm which inspired the young men who were coming from valley, hill, and plain to fill up the broken ranks of the Union army.

Minnie, educated in peace principles, could not conscientiously encourage him, and yet when she saw how the liberty of a whole race was trembling in the balance she could not help wishing [success?] to the army, nor find it in her heart to dissuade him from going.

Others had given their loved and cherished ones to camp and field. The son of a dear friend had said to his mother, "I know I shall be killed, but I go to free the slave." His presentiment had been met, for he had been brought home in his shroud.

Another dear friend had said, "I have drawn my sword, and it shall never sleep in its scabbard till the nation is free!" And she had heard that summer of '64 how bravely the colored soldiers had stood at Fort Wagner, when the storms of death were sweeping through the darkened sky. How they summoned the world to see the grandeur of their courage and the daring of their prowess.

How Corny had held with unyielding hand the nation's flag, and even when he was wounded still held it in his grasp, and crawling from the scene of action exclaimed, "I only did my duty, the old flag, I didn't let it trail on the ground."

And she felt on reading it with tearful eyes, that if she belonged to that race they had not shamed her by their want of courage; and so when Louis came to her and told her his intention, she would not attempt to oppose him, and when he was ready to depart, with many prayers, and sad farewells, she gave him up to fight the battles of freedom, for such it was to him, who went with every nerve in his right arm tingling to strike a blow for liberty.

Hitherto Louis had known the race by their tenderness and compassion, but the war gave him an opportunity to become acquainted with men brave to do, brave to dare, and brave to die.

A colored man was the hero of one of the most tender, touching, and tragic incidents of the war. A number of soldiers were in a boat exposed to the fire of the rebels; on board was a colored man who had not enrolled as a soldier, though his soul was full of sublime valor. The bullets hissed and split the water, and the rowers tried to get out of their reach, but all their efforts were in vain; the treacherous mud had caught the boat, and some one must peril life and limb to shove that boat into the water. And this man, the member of a doomed, a fated race, who had been trodden down for ages, comprehending the danger, said, "Some one must die to get us out of this, and it mout's well be me as anybody; you are soldiers, and you can fight. If they kill me it is nothing."

And with these words he arose, gave the boat a push, received a number of bullets, and died within two days after.

Louis acquitted himself bravely, and rapidly rose in favor with his superior officers. To him the place of danger was the post of duty. He often received letters from Minnie, but they were always hopeful; for she had learned to look on the bright side of everything.

She tried to beguile him with the news of the neighborhood, and to inspire him with bright hopes for the future; that future in which they should clasp hands again and find their duty and their pleasure in living for the welfare and happiness of our race, as Minnie would often say.

A race upon whose brows God had poured the chrism of a new era—a race newly anointed with freedom.

Oh, how the enthusiasm of her young soul gathered around that work! She felt it was no mean nor common privilege to be the pioneer of a new civilization. If he who makes two blades of grass grow where only one flourished before is a benefactor of the human race, how much higher and holier must his or her work be who dispenses light, instead of darkness, knowledge, instead of ignorance, and over the ruins of the slave-pen and auction-block erects institutions of learning.

She would say in her letters to Louis that the South will never be rightly conquered until another army should take the field, and that must be an army of civilizers; the army of the pen, and not the sword. Not the destroyers of towns and cities, but the builders of machines and factories; the organizers of peaceful industry and honorable labor; and as soon as she possibly could she intended to join that great army.

Sometimes Louis would shake his head doubtfully, and tell her that the South was a very sad place to live in, and would be for years, and, while he was willing to bear toil and privation in the cause he had learned to love, yet he shrank from exposing her to the social ostracism which she must bear whether she identified herself with the colored race or not.

However, her brave young heart never failed her, but kept true to its purpose to join that noble band who left the sunshine of their homes to help build up a new South on the basis of a higher and better civilization.

Louis remained with the army till Lee had surrendered. The storm-cloud of battle had passed away, and the thunders of contending batteries no longer crashed and vibrated on the air.

And then he returned to Minnie, who still lived with Thomas Carpenter. Very tender and joyous was their greeting. Louis thought he would rest awhile and then arrange his affairs to return to the South. In this plan he was heartily seconded by Minnie.

Thomas and Anna were sorry to part with her, but they knew that life was not made for a holiday of ease and luxury, and so they had no words of discouragement for them. If duty called them to the South it was right that they should go; and so they would not throw themselves across the purpose of their souls.



Chapter XVII

Before he located, Louis concluded to visit the old homestead, and to present his beautiful young bride to his grandmother and Camilla.

He knew his adopted sister too well to fear that Minnie would fail to receive from her the warmest welcome, and so with eager heart he took passage on one of the Mississippi boats to New Orleans, intending to stop in the city a few days, and send word to Camilla; but just as he was passing from the levee to the hotel, he caught a glimpse of Camilla walking down the street, and stopping the carriage, he alighted, and spoke to her. She immediately recognized him, although his handsome face had become somewhat bronzed by exposure in camp and field.

"Do not go to the hotel," she said, "you are heartily welcome, come home with me."

"But my wife is along."

"Never mind, she's just as welcome as you are."

"But, like myself, she is colored."

"It does not matter. I should not think of your going to a hotel, while I have a home in the city."

Camilla following, wondering how she would like the young wife. She had great kindness and compassion for the race, but as far as social equality was concerned, though she had her strong personal likings, yet, except with Louis, neither custom nor education had reconciled her to the maintenance of any equal, social relations with them.

"My wife," said Louis, introducing Camilla to Minnie. Camilla immediately reached out her hand to the young wife, and gave her a cordial greeting, and they soon fell into a pleasant and animated conversation. Mutually they were attracted to each other, and when they reached their destination, Minnie had begun to feel quite at home with Camilla.

"How is Aunt Miriam, or rather, my grandmother?" said Louis.

"She is well, and often wonders what has become of her poor boy; but she always has persisted in believing that she would see you again, and I know her dear old eyes will run over with gladness. But things have changed very much since we parted. We have passed through the fire since I saw you, and our troubles are not over yet; but we are hoping for better days. But we are at home. Let us alight."

And Louis and Minnie were ushered into a home whose quiet and refined beauty were very pleasant to the eye, for Camilla had inherited from her father his aesthetic tastes; had made her home and its surroundings models of loveliness. Half a dozen varieties of the sweetest and brightest roses clambered up the walls and arrayed them with a garb of rare beauty. Jessamines breathed their fragrance on the air; magnolias reared their stately heads and gladdened the eye with the exquisite beauty of their flowers.

"This is an unexpected pleasure," said Camilla, removing Minnie's bonnet, and gazing with unfeigned admiration upon her girlish face, "but really some one must enjoy this pleasure besides myself."

Camilla rang the bell; a bright, smiling girl of about ten years appeared. "Tell Miriam," she said, "to come; that her boy Louis is here."

Miriam appeared immediately, and throwing her arms around his neck, gave vent to her feelings in a burst of joy. "I always said you'd come back. I's prayed for you night and day, and I always believed I'd see you afore I died, and now my word's come true. There's nothing like having faith."

"Here's my wife," said Louis, turning to Minnie.

"Your wife; is you married, honey? Well I hopes you'll have a good time."

Minnie came forward and gave her hand to Miriam, as Louis said, "This is my grandmother."

A look of proud satisfaction passed over the old woman's face, and a sudden joy lit up her eyes at these words of pleasant recognition.

"Ah, my child," said Miriam, "We's had a mighty heap of trouble since you left. Them miserable secesh searched the house all over for you, when you was gone, and they was mighty sassy; but we didn't mind that, so they didn't ketch you. How did you get along? We was dreadfully uneasy about you?"

Louis then told them of the kindness of the colored people, his thrilling adventures, and hair-breadth escapes, and unfolded to them his plans for the future.

Camilla listened with deep interest, and turning to Minnie, who had left the peaceful sunshine of her mother's home to dwell in the midst of that rough and rude state of society, she said, "I cannot help feeling sad to see you exposing yourself to the dangers that lay around your path. The few Southern women who have been faithful to the flag have had a sad experience since the war. We have been ostracized and abused, and often our husbands have been brutally murdered, in a number of instances when they were faithful to the dear old flag. A friend of mine, who was an angel of mercy to the Union prisoners, dressing their wounds and carrying them relief, had a dear son, who always kept a Union flag at home, which he regarded with almost religious devotion. This made him a marked boy in the community, and during the war he was so cruelly beaten, by some young rebels, that he never recovered, and colored women who would wend their way under the darkness and cover of night to aid our suffering soldiers, were in danger of being flogged, if detected, and I understand that one did receive 75 lashes for such an offence, and I heard of another who was shot down like a dog, for giving bread to a prisoner, who said, 'Mammy, I am starving.' I think, (but I have no right to dictate to you) had I been you, and my home in the North, that I would have preferred staying there, where, to say the least, you could have had pleasanter social relations. You and Louis are nearer the white race than the colored. Why should you prefer the one to the other?"

"Because," said Minnie, "the prejudices of society are so strong against the people with whom I am connected on my mother's side, that I could not associate with white people on equal terms, without concealing my origin, and that I scorned to do. The first years of my life passed without my knowing that I was connected with the colored race; but when it was revealed to me by mother, who suddenly claimed me, at first I shrank from the social ostracism to which that knowledge doomed me, and it was some time before I was reconciled to the change. Oh, there are lessons of life that we never learn in the bowers of ease. They must be learned in the fire. For months life seemed to me a dull, sad thing, and for a while I did not care whether I lived or died, the sunshine had suddenly faded from my path, and the future looked so dark and cheerless. But now, when I look back upon those days of gloom and suffering, I think they were among the most fruitful of my life, for in those days of pain and sorrow my resolution was formed to join the fortunes of my mother's race, and I resolved to brighten her old age with a joy, with a gladness she had never known in her youth. And how could I have done that had I left her unrecognized and palmed myself upon society as a white woman? And to tell you the truth, having passed most of my life in white society, I did not feel that the advantages of that society would have ever paid me for the loss of my self-respect, by passing as white, when I knew that I was colored; when I knew that any society, however cultivated, wealthy or refined, would not be a social gain to me, if my color and not my character must be my passport of admission. So, when I found out that I was colored, I made up my mind that I would neither be pitied nor patronized by my former friends; but that I would live out my own individuality and do for my race, as a colored woman, what I never could accomplish as a white woman."

"I think I understand you," said Camilla; "and although I tremble for you in the present state, yet you cannot do better than live out the earnest purpose of your life. I feel that we owe a great debt to the colored race, and I would aid and not hinder any hand that is ready to help do the needed work. I have felt for many years that slavery was wrong, and I am glad, from the bottom of my heart, that it has at last been destroyed. And what are your plans, Louis?"

"We are going to open a school, and devote our lives to the upbuilding of the future race. I intend entering into some plan to facilitate the freedmen in obtaining homes of their own. I want to see this newly enfranchised race adding its quota to the civilization of the land. I believe there is power and capacity, only let it have room for exercise and development. We demand no social equality, no supremacy of power. All we ask is that the American people will take their Christless, Godless prejudices out of the way, and give us a chance to grow, an opportunity to accept life, not merely as a matter of ease and indulgence, but of struggle, conquest, and achievement."

"Yes," said Camilla, "what you want and what the nation should be just enough to grant you is fair play."

"Yes, that is what we want; to be known by our character, and not by our color; to be permitted to take whatever position in society we are fitted to fill. We do not want to be bolstered and propped up on the one hand, nor to be crushed and trampled down on the other."

"Well, Louis, I think that we are coming to that. No, I cannot feel that all this baptism of fire and blood through which we have passed has been in vain. Slavery, as an institution, has been destroyed. Slavery, as an idea, still lives, but I believe that we shall outgrow this spirit of caste and proscription which still tarnishes our civilization, both North and South."



Chapter XVIII

After spending a few weeks with Camilla, Louis resolved to settle in the town of L——n, and as soon as he had chosen his home and made arrangements for the future, he sent for Ellen, and in a few days she joined her dear children, as she called Louis and Minnie. Very pleasant were the relations between Minnie and the newly freed people.

She had found her work, and they had found their friend. She did not content herself with teaching them mere knowledge of books. She felt that if the race would grow in the right direction, it must plant the roots of progress under the hearthstone. She had learned from Anna those womanly arts that give beauty, strength and grace to the fireside, and it was her earnest desire to teach them how to make their homes bright and happy.

Louis, too, with his practical turn of mind, used his influence in teaching them to be saving and industrious, and to turn their attention towards becoming land owners. He attended their political meetings, not to array class against class, nor to inflame the passions of either side. He wanted the vote of the colored people not to express the old hates and animosities of the plantation, but the new community of interests arising from freedom.

For awhile the aspect of things looked hopeful. The Reconstruction Act, by placing the vote in the hands of the colored man, had given him a new position. There was a lull in Southern violence. It was a great change from the fetters on his wrist to the ballot in his right hand, and the uniform testimony of the colored people was, "We are treated better than we were before."

Some of the rebels indulged in the hope that their former slaves would vote for them, but they were learning the power of combination, and having no political past, they were radical by position, and when Southern State after State rolled up its majorities on the radical side, then the vials of wrath were poured upon the heads of the colored people, and the courage and heroism which might have gained them recognition, perhaps, among heathens, made them more obnoxious here.

Still Louis and Minnie kept on their labors of love; their inner lives daily growing stronger and broader, for they learned to lean upon a strength greater than their own; and some of the most beautiful lessons of faith and trust they had ever learned, they were taught in the lowly cabins of these newly freed people.

Often would Minnie enter these humble homes and listen patiently to the old story of wrong and suffering. Sympathizing with their lot, she would give them counsel and help when needed. When she was leaving they would look after her wistfully, and say,

"She mighty good; we's low down, but she feels for we."

And thus day after day of that earnest life was spent in deeds and words of love and kindness.

But let us enter their pleasant home. Louis has just returned from a journey to the city, and has brought with him the latest Northern papers. He is looking rather sober, and Minnie, ready to detect the least change of his countenance, is at his side.

"What is the matter?" Minnie asked, in a tone of deep concern.

"I am really discouraged."

"What about?"

"Look here," said he, handing her the New York Tribune. "State after State has rolled up a majority against negro suffrage. I have been trying to persuade our people to vote the Republican ticket, but to-day, I feel like blushing for the party. They are weakening our hands and strengthening those of the rebels."

"But, Louis, they were not Republicans who gave these majorities against us."

"But, darling, if large numbers of these Republicans stayed at home, and let the election go by default, the result was just the same. Now every rebel can throw it in our teeth and say, 'See your great Republican party; they refuse to let the negro vote with them, but they force him upon us. They don't do it out of regard to the negro, but only to spite us.' I don't think, Minnie, that I am much given to gloomy forebodings, but I see from the temper and actions of these rebels, that they are encouraged and emboldened by these tidings from the North, and to-day they are turning people out of work for voting the radical ticket. A while ago they tried flattery and cajolery. You could hear it on almost every side—'We are the best friends of the colored people.' Appeals were made to the memories of the past; how they hunted and played together, and searched for birds' nests in the rotten peach trees, and when the colored people were not to be caught by such chaff, some were trying to force them into submission by intimidation and starvation."

Just then a knock was heard at the door, and a dark man entered. There was nothing in his appearance that showed any connection with the white race. There was a tone of hopefulness in his speech, though his face wore a somewhat anxious expression.

"Good morning, Mr. Jackson," said Louis, for, in deference to their feelings he had dropped the "aunt" and "uncle" of bygone days.

"Good morning," replied the man, while a pleasant smile flitted over his countenance.

"How does the world use you?" said Louis.

"Well, times are rather bilious with me, but I am beginning to pick up a little. I get a few boots and shoes to mend. I always used to go to the mountains, and get plenty of work to do; but this year they wouldn't give me the situation because I had joined the radicals."

"What a shame," said Louis; "these men who have always had their rights of citizenship, seem to know so little of the claims of justice and humanity, that they are ready to brow-beat and intimidate these people for voting according to their best interests. And what saddens me most is to see so many people of the North clasping hands with these rebels and traitors, and to hear it repeated that these people are too ignorant to vote."

"Ignorant as they are," said Minnie, "during the war they knew more than their masters; for they knew how to be true to their country, when their masters were false to it, and rallied around the flag, when they were trampling it under foot, and riddling it with bullets."

"Ah!" said uncle Richard, "I knows them of old. Last week some of them offered me $500 if I would desert my party; but I wasn't going to forsake my people. I have been in purty tight places this year. One night when I come home my little girl said to me, 'Daddy, dere ain't no bread in de house.' Now, that jist got me, but I begun to pray, and the next day I found a quarter of a dollar, and then some of my colored friends said it wouldn't do to let uncle Jack starve, and they made me up seventy-five cents. My wife sometimes gets out of heart, but she don't see very far off."

"I wish," said Louis, after Mr. Jackson had left, "that some of our Northern men would only see the heroism of that simple-minded man. Here he stands facing an uncertain future, no longer young in years, stripped by slavery, his wife not in full sympathy with him, and yet with what courage he refused the bribe."

"Yes," said Minnie, "$500 means a great deal for a man landless and poor, with no assured support for the future. It means a comfortable fire when the blasts of winter are roving around your home; it means bread for the little ones, and medicine for the sick child, and little start in life."

"But on the other hand," said Louis, "it meant betrayal of the interests of his race, and I honor the faithfulness which shook his hands from receiving the bribe and clasping hands politically with his life-long oppressors. And I asked myself the question while he was telling his story, which hand was the better custodian of the ballot, the white hand that offered the bribe or the black one that refused it. I think the time will come when some of the Anglo Saxon race will blush to remember that when they were trailing the banner of freedom in the dust black men were grasping it with earnest hands, bearing it aloft amid persecution, pain, and death."

"Louis" said Minnie very seriously, "I think the nation makes one great mistake in settling this question of suffrage. It seems to me that everything gets settled on a partial basis. When they are reconstructing the government why not lay the whole foundation anew, and base the right of suffrage not on the claims of service or sex, but on the broader basis of our common humanity."

"Because, Minnie, we are not prepared for it. This hour belongs to the negro."

"But, Louis, is it not the negro woman's hour also? Has she not as many rights and claims as the negro man?"

"Well, perhaps she has, but, darling, you cannot better the condition of the colored men without helping the colored women. What elevates him helps her."

"All that may be true, but I cannot recognize that the negro man is the only one who has pressing claims at this hour. To-day our government needs woman's conscience as well as man's judgment. And while I would not throw a straw in the way of the colored man, even though I know that he would vote against me as soon as he gets his vote, yet I do think that woman should have some power to defend herself from oppression, and equal laws as if she were a man."

"But, really, I should not like to see you wending your way through rough and brawling mobs to the polls."

"Because these mobs are rough and coarse I would have women vote. I would soften the asperity of the mobs, and bring into our politics a deeper and broader humanity. When I see intemperance send its floods of ruin and shame to the homes of men, and pass by the grog-shops that are constantly grinding out their fearful grist of poverty, ruin and death, I long for the hour when woman's vote will be levelled against these charnel houses; and have, I hope, the power to close them throughout the length and breadth of the land."

"Why darling," said Louis, gazing admiringly upon the earnest enthusiasm lighting up her face, "I shall begin to believe that you are a strong-minded woman."

"Surely, you would not have me a weak-minded woman in these hours of trial."

"But, darling, I did not think that you were such an advocate for women's voting."

"I think, Louis, that basing our rights on the ground of our common humanity is the only true foundation for national peace and durability. If you would have the government strong and enduring you should entrench it in the hearts of both the men and women of the land."

"I think you are right in that remark," said Louis. And thus their evenings were enlivened by pleasant and interesting conversations upon the topics of the day.

Once when a union friend was spending an evening at their home Louis entered, looking somewhat animated, and Minnie ever ready to detect his moods and feelings, wanted to know what had happened.

"Oh, I have been to a wedding since I left home."

"And pray who was married?"

"Guess."

"I don't know whom to guess. One of our friends?"

"Yes."

"Was it Mr. Welland?"

"Yes."

"And who did he marry? Is she a Northern woman, and a staunch unionist?"

"Well, I can't imagine who she can be."

"Why he married Miss Henson, who sent you those beautiful flowers."

"Why, Louis, is it possible? Why she is a colored woman."

"I know."

"But how came he to marry her?"

"For the same reason I married you, because he loved her?"

"Well," said the union man, who sat quietly listening, "I am willing to give to the colored people every right that I possess myself, but as to intermarrying with them, I am not prepared for that."

"I think," said Louis, "that marrying and social equality among the races will simply regulate itself. I do not think under the present condition of things that there will be any general intermarrying of the races, but this idea of rooted antagonism of races to me is all moonshine. I believe that what you call the instincts of race are only the prejudices which are the result of custom and education, and if there is any instinct in the matter it is rather the instinct of nature to make a Semi-tropical race in a Semi-tropical climate. Welland told me that he had met his wife when she was a slave, that he loved her then, and would have bought her had it been in his power, but now that freedom had come to her he was glad to have the privilege of making her his wife. He is an Englishman by birth and he intends taking her home with him to England when a favorable opportunity presents itself. And that is far more honorable and manly than living together after the old order of things. I think," said Louis facing the floor "that a cruel wrong was done to Minnie and myself when life was given to us under conditions that doomed us to hopeless slavery, and from which we were rescued only by good fortune. I have heard some colored persons boasting of the white blood, but I always feel like blushing for mine. Much as my father did for me he could never atone for giving me life under the conditions he did."

"Never mind," said Minnie, "it all turned out for the best."

"Yes, Darling," said Louis, growing calmer, "for it gave me you. And that was life's compensation. But the question of the intermingling of the races in marriage is one that scarcely interests this question. The question that presses upon us with the most fearful distinctness is how can we make life secure in the South. I sometimes feel as if the very air was busting with bayonets. There is no law here but the revolver. There must be a screw loose somewhere, and this government that taxes its men in peace and drafts them in war, ought to be wise enough to know its citizens and strong enough to protect them."



Chapter XIX

But the pleasant home-life of Louis and Minnie was destined to be rudely broken up. He began to receive threats and anonymous letters, such as these: "Louis Lecroix, you are a doomed man. We are determined to tolerate no scalawags, nor carpetbaggers among us. Beware, the sacred serpent has hissed."

But Louis, brave and resolute, kept on the even tenor of his way, although he never left his home without some forebodings that he tried in vain to cast off. But his young wife being less in contact with the brutal elements of society in that sin-cursed region, did not comprehend the danger as Louis did, and yet she could not help feeling anxious for her husband's safety.

They never parted without her looking after him with a sigh, and then turning to her school, or whatever work or reading she had on her hand, she would strive to suppress her heart's forebodings. But the storm about to burst and to darken forever the sunshine of that home was destined to fall on that fair young head.

Imperative business called Louis from home for one night. Minnie stood at the door and said, "Louis, I hate to have you go. I have been feeling so badly here lately, as if something was going to happen. Come home as soon as you can."

"I will, darling," he said, kissing her tenderly again and again. "I do feel rather loath to leave you, but death is every where, always lurking in ambush. A man may escape from an earthquake to be strangled by a hair. So, darling, keep in good spirits till I come."

Minnie stood at the door watching him till he was out of sight, and then turning to her mother with a sigh, she said, "What a wretched state of society. When he goes I never feel easy till he returns. I do wish we had a government under which our lives would be just as safe as they were in Pennsylvania."

Ellen felt very anxious, but she tried to hide her disquietude and keep Minnie's spirits from sinking, and so she said, "This is a hard country. We colored people have seen our hard times here."

"But, mother, don't you sometimes feel bitter towards these people, who have treated you so unkindly?"

"No, Minnie; I used to, but I don't now. God says we must forgive, and if we don't forgive, He won't forgive."

"But, mother, how did you get to feeling so?"

"Why, honey, I used to suffer until my heart was almost ready to burst, but I learned to cast my burden on the Lord, and then my misery all passed away. My burden fell off at the foot of the cross, and I felt that my feet were planted on a rock."

"How wonderful," said Minnie, "is this faith! How real it is to them! How near some of these suffering people have drawn to God!"

"Yes," said Ellen, "Mrs. Sumpter had a colored woman, to whom they were real mean and cruel, and one day they whipped her and beat her on her feet to keep her from running away; but she made up her mind to leave, and so she packed up her clothes to run away. But before she started, I believe she kneeled down and prayed, and asked what she should do, and something reasoned with her and said, 'Stand still and see what I am going to do for you,' and so she unpacked her clothes and stayed, and now the best part of it was this, Milly's son had been away, and he came back and brought with him money enough to buy his mother; for he had been out begging money to buy her, and so Milly got free, and she was mighty glad that she had stayed, because when he'd come back, if she had been gone, he would not have known where to find her."

"Well, it is wonderful. Somehow these people have passed through the darkness and laid their hands on God's robe of love and light, and have been sustained. It seems to me that some things they see clearer through their tears."

"Mother," said Minnie, "As it is Saturday I will visit some of my scholars."

"Well, Minnie, I would; you look troubled, and may be you'll feel better."

"Yes, Mother, I often feel strengthened after visiting some of these good old souls, and getting glimpses into their inner life. I sometimes ask them, after listening to the story of their past wrongs, what has sustained you? What has kept you up? And the almost invariable answer has been the power of God. Some of these poor old souls, who have been turned adrift to shift for themselves, don't live by bread alone; they live by bread and faith in God. I asked one of them a few days since, Are you not afraid of starving? and the answer was, Not while God lives."

After Minnie left, she visited a number of lowly cabins. The first one she entered was the home of an industrious couple who were just making a start in life. The room in which Minnie was, had no window-lights, only an aperture that supplied them with light, but also admitted the cold.

"Why don't you have window-lights?" said Minnie.

"Oh we must crawl before we walk;" and yet even in this humble home they had taken two orphan children of their race, and were giving them food and shelter. And this kindness to the orphans of their race Minnie found to be a very praiseworthy practice among some of those people who were not poorer than themselves.

The next cabin she entered was very neat, though it bore evidences of poverty. The woman, in referring to the past, told her how her child had been taken away when it was about two years old, and how she had lost all trace of him, and would not know him if he stood in her presence.

"How did you feel?" said Minnie.

"I felt as I was going to my grave, but I thought if I wouldn't get justice here, I would get it in another world."

"My husband," said another, "asked if God is a just God, how would sich as slavery be, and something answered and said, 'sich shan't always be,' and you couldn't beat it out of my husband's head that the Spirit didn't speak to him."

And thus the morning waned away, and Minnie returned calmer than when she had left. A holy peace stole over her mind. She felt that for high and low, rich and poor, there was a common refuge. That there was no corner so dark that the light of heaven could not shine through, and that these people in their ignorance and simplicity had learned to look upon God as a friend coming near to them in their sorrows, and taking cognizance of their wants and woes.

Minnie loved to listen to these beautiful stories of faith and trust. To her they were grand inspirations to faith and duty. Sometimes Minnie would think, when listening to some dear aged saint, I can't teach these people religion, I must learn from them.

Refreshed and strengthened she returned home and began to work upon a dress for a destitute and orphaned child, and when night came she retired quite early, being somewhat wearied with her day's work.

During his absence Louis had been among the freedmen in a new settlement where he had lately established a school, where, notwithstanding all their disadvantages, he was pleased to see evidences of growth and progress.

There was an earnestness and growing manliness that commanded his respect. They were beginning to learn the power of combination, and gave but little heed to the cajoling words, "We are your best friends."

"Don't you think," Louis said to an intelligent freedman, "that the rebels are your best friends?"

"I'll think so when I lose my senses."

"But you are ignorant," Louis said to another one. "How will you know whom to vote for?"

"Well if I don't, I know how not to vote for a rebel."

"How do you know you didn't vote for a rebel?" said Louis to another one who came from one of the most benighted districts.

"I voted for one of my own color," as if treason and a black skin were incompatible.

In the evening Louis called the people together, and talked with them, trying to keep them from being discouraged, for the times were evil, and the days were very gloomy. The impeachment had failed. State after State in the North had voted against enfranchising the colored man in their midst. The spirit of the lost cause revived, murders multiplied. The Ku Klux spread terror and death around. Every item of Northern meanness to the colored people in their midst was a message of hope to the rebel element of the South, which had only changed. Ballot and bullet had failed, but another resort was found in secret assassination. Men advocating equal rights did so at the peril of their lives, for violence and murder were rampant in the land. Oh those dark and weary days when politicians were flattering for place and murdered Union men were sleeping in their bloody shrouds. Louis' courage did not desert him, and he tried to nerve the hearts of those that were sinking with fear in those days of gloom and terror. His advice to the people was, "Defend your firesides if they are invaded, live as peaceably as you can, spare no pains to educate your children, be saving and industrious, try to get land under your feet and homes over your heads. My faith is very strong in political parties, but, as the world has outgrown other forms of wrong, I believe that it will outgrow this also. We must trust and hope for better things." What else could he say? And yet there were times when his words seemed to him almost like bitter mockery. Here was outrage upon outrage committed upon these people, and to tell them to hope and wait for better times, but seemed like speaking hollow words. Oh he longed for a central administration strong enough to put down violence and misrule in the South. If Johnson was clasping hands with rebels and traitors was there no power in Congress to give, at least, security to life? Must they wait till murder was organized into an institution, and life and property were at the mercy of the mob? And, if so, would not such a government be a farce, and such a civilization a failure?

With these reflections passing through his mind he fell asleep, but his slumber was restless and disturbed. He dreamed (but it seemed so plain to him, that he thought it was hardly a dream,) that Minnie came to his side and pressed her lips to his, but they were very pale and very cold. He reached out his hand to clasp her, but she was gone, but as she vanished he heard her say, "My husband."

Restless and uneasy he arose; there was a strange feeling around his soul, a great sinking and depression of his spirits. He could not account for his feelings. He arose and walked the floor and looked up at the heavens, but the night was very bright and beautiful, still he could not shake off his strange and sad forebodings, and as soon as it was light he started for home.

* * * * *

[Installment missing.]



Chapter XX

In the afternoon when the body had been prepared for the grave, the sorrowing friends gathered around, tearfully noting the look of peace and rest which had stolen over the pale, dead face, when all traces of the death agony had passed away by the contraction of the muscles.

"That is just the way she looked yesterday," said a sad-eyed woman, whose face showed traces of a deep "and fearful sorrow."

Louis drew near, for he was eager to hear any word that told him of Minnie before death had robbed her of life, and him of peace. He came near enough to hear, but not to interrupt the conversation.

"She was at my house yesterday, trying to comfort me, when I was telling her how these Secesh used to cruelize us."

"I was telling her about my poor daughter Amy, and what a sprightly, pert piece she was, and how dem awful Secesh took my poor chile and hung'd her."

"Hung'd? Aunt Susan, Oh how was dat?" said half a dozen voices.

"Well, you see it was jist dis way. My darter Amy was a mighty nice chile, and Massa could truss her wid any ting. So when de Linkum Sogers had gone through dis place, Massa got her to move some of his tings over to another place. Now when Amy seed de sojers had cum'd through she was mighty glad, and she said in a kine of childish way, 'I'se so glad, I'm gwine to marry a Linkum soger, and set up house-keeping for myself.' I don't spect she wer in arnest 'bout marrying de sojer, but she did want her freedom. Well, no body couldn't blame her for dat, for freedom's a mighty good thing."

"I don't like it, I jist loves it," said one of Aunt Sue's auditors.

"And I does too, 'cause I'd rather live on bread and water than be back again in de old place, but go on, Aunt Susan."

"Well, when she said dat, dat miserable old Heston——"

"Heston, I know dat wretch, I bound de debil's waiting for him now, got his pitch fork all ready."

"Well, he had my poor girl tookened up, and poor chile, she was beat shameful, and den dey had her up before der sogers and had her tried for saying 'cendiary words, and den dey had my poor girl hung'd." And the poor old woman bowed her head and rocked her body to and fro.

"Well," she continued after a moment's pause, "I was telling dat sweet angel dere my trouble, and she was mighty sorry, and sat dere and cried, and den she said, 'Mrs. Thomas, I hope in a better world dat you'll see a joy according to all the days wherein you have seen sorrow!' Bless her sweet heart, she's got in de shining gate afore me, but I bound to meet her on de sunny banks of deliberance.

"And she was at my house yesterday," said another. "She cum'd to see if I wanted any ting, and I tell'd her I would like to hab a little flannel, 'cause I had the rheumatiz so bad, and she said I should hab it. Den she asked me if I didn't like freedom best. I told her I would rather live in a corn crib, and so I would. It is hard getting along, but I hopes for better times. And den she took down de Bible, and read wid dat sweet voice of hers, about de eagle stirring up her nest, and den she said when de old eagle wanted her young to fly she broked up de nest, and de little eagles didn't known what was de matter, but some how dey didn't feel so cumfertable, 'cause de little twigs and sticks stuck in 'em, and den dey would work dere wings, and dat was de way she said we must do; de ole nest of slavery was broke up, but she said we mus'n't get discouraged, but we must plume our wings for higher flying. Oh she did tell it so purty. I wish I could say it like she did, it did my heart so much good. Poor thing, she done gone and folded her wing in de hebenly mansion. I wish I was 'long side of her, but I'se bound to meet her, 'cause I'm gwine to set out afresh for heben and 'ternal glory."

And thus did these stricken children of sorrow unconsciously comfort the desolate and almost breaking heart of Louis Lacroix. And their words of love and hope were like rays of light shimmering amid the gloomy shadows that overhung his suddenly darkened life.

Surely, thought Louis, if the blessings and tears of the poor and needy and the prayers of him who was ready to perish would crystalize a path to the glory-land, then Minnie's exit from earth must have been over a bridge of light, above whose radiant arches hovering angels would delight to bend.

While these thoughts were passing through his mind, a knock was heard at the door, and Louis rose to open it, and then he saw a sight which shook all his gathered firmness to tears. Headed by the eldest of Minnie's scholars came a procession of children, each one bearing a bunch of fairest and brightest flowers to spread around the couch of their beloved teacher. Some kissed her, and others threw themselves beside the corpse and wept bitter, burning tears. All shared in Louis' grief, for all had lost a dear, good friend and loving instructor.

Louis summoned all the energies of his soul to bear his mournful loss. It was his task to bow to the Chastener, and let his loved one go, feeling that when he had laid her in the earth that he left her there in the hope of a better resurrection.

Life with its solemn responsibilities still met him; its earnest duties still confronted him, and, though he sometimes felt like a weary watcher at the gates of death, longing to catch a glimpse of her shining robes and the radiant light of her glorified face, yet her knew it was his work to labor and to wait.

Sorrow and danger still surrounded his way, and he felt his soul more strongly drawn out than ever to share the fortunes of the colored race. He felt there were grand possibilities stored up in their future. The name of the negro had been associated with slavery, ignorance and poverty, and he determined as far as his influence could be exerted to lift that name from the dust of the centuries and place it among the most honored names in the history of the human race.

He still remained in the South, for Minnie's grave had made the South to him a sacred place, a place in which to labor and to wait until peace like bright dew should descend where carnage had spread ruin around, and freedom and justice, like glorified angels, should reign triumphant where violence and slavery had held their fearful carnival of shame and crime for ages. Earnestly he set himself to bring around the hour when

Peace, white-robed and pure, should move O'er rifts of ruin deep and wide, When her hands should span with lasting love The chasms rent by hate and pride.

And he was blessed in his labors of love and faith.



Conclusion

And now, in conclusion, may I not ask the indulgence of my readers for a few moments, simply to say that Louis and Minnie are only ideal beings, touched here and there with a coloring from real life?

But while I confess (not wishing to mis-represent the most lawless of the Ku-Klux) that Minnie has only lived and died in my imagination, may I not modestly ask that the lesson of Minnie shall have its place among the educational ideas for the advancement of our race?

The greatest want of our people, if I understand our wants aright, is not simply wealth, nor genius, nor mere intelligence, but live men, and earnest, lovely women, whose lives shall represent not a "stagnant mass, but a living force."

We have wealth among us, but how much of it is ever spent in building up the future of the race? in encouraging talent, and developing genius? We have intelligence, but how much do we add to the reservoir of the world's thought? We have genius among us, but how much can it rely upon the colored race for support?

Take even the Christian Recorder; where are the graduates from colleges and high school whose pens and brains lend beauty, strength, grace and culture to its pages?

If, when their school days are over, the last composition shall have been given at the examination, will not the disused faculties revenge themselves by rusting? If I could say it without being officious and intrusive, I would say to some who are about to graduate this year, do not feel that your education is finished, when the diploma of your institution is in your hands. Look upon the knowledge you have gained only as a stepping stone to a future, which you are determined shall grandly contrast with the past.

While some of the authors of the present day have been weaving their stories about white men marrying beautiful quadroon girls, who, in so doing were lost to us socially, I conceived of one of that same class to whom I gave a higher, holier destiny; a life of lofty self-sacrifice and beautiful self-consecration, finished at the post of duty, and rounded off with the fiery crown of martyrdom, a circlet which ever changes into a diadem of glory.

The lesson of Minnie's sacrifice is this, that it is braver to suffer with one's own branch of the human race,—to feel, that the weaker and the more despised they are, the closer we will cling to them, for the sake of helping them, than to attempt to creep out of all identity with them in their feebleness, for the sake of mere personal advantages, and to do this at the expense of self-respect, and a true manhood, and a truly dignified womanhood, that with whatever gifts we possess, whether they be genius, culture, wealth or social position, we can best serve the interests of our race by a generous and loving diffusion, than by a narrow and selfish isolation which, after all, is only one type of the barbarous and anti-social state.



Notes

1. The following two paragraphs are for the most part illegible. I have reproduced below as much of the text as can be deciphered.

The whole South is in a state of excitement [ ... ] [ ] nurture [ ] and re- [ ] high [ ] be for [ ] they are [ ] and only remember they are rebels[? ].

They [urge the agenda?] and their brothers in their [mistaken?] folly. Like the women of Carthage [ ] ancient and magnificent city was [ ] they were ready to sacrifice their [ ] and if need be would have cut [ but it have been] so dear to their hearts [ ]

2. The original reads "Josiah."

3. The original reads "Joseph."

4. The original reads "Josiah."

5. The original reads "Josiah."

6. The original reads "Anna."

7. The original reads "Minnie."

THE END