The Use and Need of the Life of Carrie A. Nation [8]
a neighbor and great friend of my father, brought over a two bushel sack of
turnip greens and a ham. I remember seeing him shake them out of the
bag. At this sale for the first, and only time, I saw a negro put on a
block and sold to the highest bidder. I can't understand how my father
could have allowed this. His name was "Big Bill," to distinguish him
from another "Bill". He was a widower or a batchelor and had no
family. There was one colored man my father valued highly, and
wanted to take with him, but this man, Tom, had a wife, who belonged
to a near neighbor. After we got in the carriage to go to our new home,
Tom followed us crying: "Oh, Mars George, don't take me from my
wife." My father said: "Go and get some one to buy you." This Tom
did, the buyer being a Mr. Dunn. Oh! What a sad sight! It makes the
tears fill my eyes to write it.
But a worse slavery is now on us. I would rather have my son sold
to a slave-driver than to be a victim of a saloon. I could, in the first case,
hope to see him in heaven; but no drunkard can inherit eternal life. The
people of the south said no power could take from them their slaves, but
'tis a thing of the past. People now say, you can't shut up saloons. But
our children will know them as a thing of the past. My father was glad
when the slaves were free. He felt the responsibility of owning them.
Have heard him say, after having some-trouble with them: "Those
negroes will send me to hell yet." He would gather them in the dining-
room Sunday evenings and read the Bible to them and have prayer. He
would first call aunt Liza and ask her to have them come in. The negroes
would sing, and it is a sweet memory to me.
{illust. caption =
THIS IS A PICTURE OF MYSELF AND SISTER EDNA, SITTING ON EACH SIDE OF OUR
MOTHER.I AM ON THE LEFT AND WAS ABOUT SIX YEARS OLD.}
CHAPTER II.
MY EXPERIENCE WITH THE NEGROES AS SLAVES.--THEIR SUPERSTITIONS.--
A BEAUTIFUL FAIRY TALE.
The colored race, as I knew them, were generally kind to the white
children of their masters. Their sympathy was great in childish troubles.
They were our nurses around our sick beds. Their lullabyes soothed us
to sleep. Very frequently my nurse would hold me in her arms until
both of us would fall asleep, but she would still hold me secure. When
any of my misdoings came to the ears of my parents, and I was punished
their testimony would, as far as possible, shield me, and not until I would
try their patience out of all bounds would they tell my mother on me. I
never heard an infidel negro express his views, even if very wicked.
They had firm belief in God and a devil. I always liked their meetings,
their songs and shoutings. They always told me that no one could help
shouting. The first time I ever heard a white woman shout was in Northern
Texas, during the war. I did not wish the spirit to cause me to
jump up and clap my hands that way, for these impulses were not in my
carnal heart, so, for fear I should be compelled to do so, I held my dress
down tight to the seat on each side, to prevent such action. The negroes
are great readers of character; despise stingy people or those who were
afraid of them. These colored friends taught me the fear of God. The
first time I ever attended church, I rode behind on horseback, and
sat with them in the gallery. I imbibed some of their superstitions.
They consider it bad to allow a sharp tool, as a spade, hoe or ax, to be
taken through the house; to throw salt in the fire, for you would have to
pick it out after death. They would kill a hen if she crowed; looked for
a death, if a dog howled; or, if one broke a looking-glass, it meant
trouble of some kind for seven years. They believed that persons had
power to put a "spell" on others, would, if taken sick, frequently speak of
having "stepped on something" put in their way or buried in their dooryard.
There is no dialect in the world that has the original characteristics so
pleasing to the ear as the negro. There is a softness and music in the
voice of a negro not to be