The Use and Need of the Life of Carrie A. Nation [7]
a certain place on Sunday. I said: "Pa, you will lose on those
hogs. You ought not to do that on Sunday." He gave me a quick,
light, playful slap, saying: "Stop that, every time you say that, I do
lose."
I can see that a responsibility to God was the fundamental principle
in my father's life. After the negroes were freed, and we lived on
the farm, there was so much to do, especially for him, but there was
always a conveyance prepared to take his family to church and Sunday
School--I took the "New York Ledger. Mrs. Southworth wrote for it
then. 'Capitola', The Wrecker's Son, with other thrilling stories, were
so fascinating to me--The paper came late Saturday and I would rather
read it Sunday morning than go anywhere. One morning I took my
paper and went to the back of the orchard, thinking to get out of the
sound of my father's voice when he would call me to get ready for
church. I could just hear him but did not move. After reading my
paper, I returned to the house, Pa was just coming back with the rest
of the family from church. He looked at me with grief and anger in
his glance and said, "Never mind, you ungrateful girl, you cannot say
at the judgment Day, that your father did not provide a way for you
to go to church." I never did this again and never was free from remorse
for this ingratitude. I know how Dr. Johnson felt when he was
seen standing on a corner of the street with the sun beaming down
upon his bare head, when asked why he did that he said, "My father
had a book stand on this corner, when I was a boy once he asked me to
stand here in his place as he was sick. I would not, now I would expiate
that by blistering my bare head in the sun if I could. To this day
I weep to think of grieving so noble a parent.
My mother was a very handsome woman. My father was what you
might call good looking. I was very anxious to look like him; used to
try to wear off my teeth on the right side, because his were worn off.
About two years before he died, he came to Texas to visit me. I was
then in the hotel business. During the first meal he ate at the hotel,
he looked up and seeing me waiting on the table, he got up and began
waiting on the table himself. I had to work very hard then and it was
a grief to him to have no means to give me. One morning he came into
my room while I was dressing and said: "Daughter, I have not slept
all night for thinking of you. The last thing last night was you in the
kitchen and the first thing this morning. I have always hoped to have
something to leave you, and it is such a grief to me that I can not help
you. Carry, it seems the Lord has been so hard on you." I said:
"No, Pa; I thank God for all my sorrows. They have been the best for
me, and don't you worry about not leaving me money, for you have left
me something far better." He looked up surprised and said: "What is
it?" I answered: "The memory of a father who never did a dishonorable
act." My father's eyes filled with tears, and after that he seemed to
be happier than I had ever seen him; everything seemed to go right.
My father was a very indulgent master to his colored servants, who
loved him like a father. They always called him "Mars George." The
negro women would threaten to get "Mars George" to whip their bad
children, and when he whipped them, I have heard them say: "Served
you right. Did not give you a lick amiss." This was proving their
great confidence, they being willing for some one else to whip their
children. They were very sensitive in this matter and were not willing
for my mother to do this. My father would lay in a supply, while in
Cincinnati, of boxes of boots and shoes, arid get combs, head handkerchiefs,
and Sunday dresses, which would greatly delight his colored people.
Happy, indeed, would the negroes have been if all their masters
had been as my father was.
When we moved to Mercer County from Garrard, we had a sale.
It was customary then at such a time to have a barbecue and a great
dinner. The tables were set in the yard. I remember Mr. Jones Adams,
hogs. You ought not to do that on Sunday." He gave me a quick,
light, playful slap, saying: "Stop that, every time you say that, I do
lose."
I can see that a responsibility to God was the fundamental principle
in my father's life. After the negroes were freed, and we lived on
the farm, there was so much to do, especially for him, but there was
always a conveyance prepared to take his family to church and Sunday
School--I took the "New York Ledger. Mrs. Southworth wrote for it
then. 'Capitola', The Wrecker's Son, with other thrilling stories, were
so fascinating to me--The paper came late Saturday and I would rather
read it Sunday morning than go anywhere. One morning I took my
paper and went to the back of the orchard, thinking to get out of the
sound of my father's voice when he would call me to get ready for
church. I could just hear him but did not move. After reading my
paper, I returned to the house, Pa was just coming back with the rest
of the family from church. He looked at me with grief and anger in
his glance and said, "Never mind, you ungrateful girl, you cannot say
at the judgment Day, that your father did not provide a way for you
to go to church." I never did this again and never was free from remorse
for this ingratitude. I know how Dr. Johnson felt when he was
seen standing on a corner of the street with the sun beaming down
upon his bare head, when asked why he did that he said, "My father
had a book stand on this corner, when I was a boy once he asked me to
stand here in his place as he was sick. I would not, now I would expiate
that by blistering my bare head in the sun if I could. To this day
I weep to think of grieving so noble a parent.
My mother was a very handsome woman. My father was what you
might call good looking. I was very anxious to look like him; used to
try to wear off my teeth on the right side, because his were worn off.
About two years before he died, he came to Texas to visit me. I was
then in the hotel business. During the first meal he ate at the hotel,
he looked up and seeing me waiting on the table, he got up and began
waiting on the table himself. I had to work very hard then and it was
a grief to him to have no means to give me. One morning he came into
my room while I was dressing and said: "Daughter, I have not slept
all night for thinking of you. The last thing last night was you in the
kitchen and the first thing this morning. I have always hoped to have
something to leave you, and it is such a grief to me that I can not help
you. Carry, it seems the Lord has been so hard on you." I said:
"No, Pa; I thank God for all my sorrows. They have been the best for
me, and don't you worry about not leaving me money, for you have left
me something far better." He looked up surprised and said: "What is
it?" I answered: "The memory of a father who never did a dishonorable
act." My father's eyes filled with tears, and after that he seemed to
be happier than I had ever seen him; everything seemed to go right.
My father was a very indulgent master to his colored servants, who
loved him like a father. They always called him "Mars George." The
negro women would threaten to get "Mars George" to whip their bad
children, and when he whipped them, I have heard them say: "Served
you right. Did not give you a lick amiss." This was proving their
great confidence, they being willing for some one else to whip their
children. They were very sensitive in this matter and were not willing
for my mother to do this. My father would lay in a supply, while in
Cincinnati, of boxes of boots and shoes, arid get combs, head handkerchiefs,
and Sunday dresses, which would greatly delight his colored people.
Happy, indeed, would the negroes have been if all their masters
had been as my father was.
When we moved to Mercer County from Garrard, we had a sale.
It was customary then at such a time to have a barbecue and a great
dinner. The tables were set in the yard. I remember Mr. Jones Adams,