Sketches of Southern life — Edition Insights

He just stood up and cried.

But the worst fooled man I ever saw, Was when poor David Rand Sold out for flour and sugar; The sugar was mixed with sand.

I’ll tell you how the thing got out; His wife had company, And she thought the sand was sugar, And served it up for tea.

When David sipped and sipped the tea, Somehow it didn’t taste right; I guess when he found he was sipping sand, He was mad enough to fight.

The sugar looked so nice and white— It was spread some inches deep— But underneath was a lot of sand; Such sugar is mighty cheap.

You’d laughed to seen Lucinda Grange Upon her husband’s track; When he sold his vote for rations She made him take ’em back.

Day after day did Milly Green Just follow after Joe, And told him if he voted wrong To take his rags and go.

I think that Curnel Johnson said His side had won the day, Had not we women radicals Just got right in the way.

And yet I would not have you think That all our men are shabby; But ’tis said in every flock of sheep There will be one that’s scabby.

I’ve heard, before election came They tried to buy John Slade; But he gave them all to understand That he wasn’t in that trade.

And we’ve got lots of other men Who rally round the cause, And go for holding up the hands That gave us equal laws.

Who know their freedom cost too much Of blood and pain and treasure, For them to fool away their votes For profit or for pleasure.

AUNT CHLOE’S POLITICS.

Of course, I don’t know very much About these politics, But I think that some who run ’em, Do mighty ugly tricks.

I’ve seen ’em honey-fugle round, And talk so awful sweet, That you’d think them full of kindness, As an egg is full of meat.

Now I don’t believe in looking Honest people in the face, And saying when you’re doing wrong, That “I haven’t sold my race.”

When we want to school our children, If the money isn’t there, Whether black or white have took it, The loss we all must share.

And this buying up each other Is something worse than mean, Though I thinks a heap of voting, I go for voting clean.

Very soon the Yankee teachers Came down and set up school; But, oh! how the Rebs did hate it,— It was agin’ their rule.

Our masters always tried to hide Book learning from our eyes; Knowledge didn’t agree with slavery— ’Twould make us all too wise.

But some of us would try to steal A little from the book, And put the words together, And learn by hook or crook.

I remember Uncle Caldwell, Who took pot-liquor fat And greased the pages of his book, And hid it in his hat.

And had his master ever seen The leaves upon his head, He’d have thought them greasy papers, But nothing to be read.

And there was Mr. Turner’s Ben, Who heard the children spell, And picked the words right up by heart, And learned to read ’em well.

Well, the Northern folks kept sending The Yankee teachers down; And they stood right up and helped us, Though Rebs did sneer and frown.

And, I longed to read my Bible, For precious words it said; But when I begun to learn it, Folks just shook their heads,

And said there is no use trying, Oh! Chloe, you’re too late; But as I was rising sixty, I had no time to wait.

So I got a pair of glasses, And straight to work I went, And never stopped till I could read The hymns and Testament.

Then I got a little cabin A place to call my own— And I felt as independent As the queen upon her throne.

Uncle Jacob often told us, Since freedom blessed our race We ought all to come together And build a meeting place.

So we pinched, and scraped, and spared, A little here and there: Though our wages was but scanty, The church did get a share.

And, when the house was finished, Uncle Jacob came to pray; He was looking mighty feeble, And his head was awful gray.

But his voice rang like a trumpet; His eyes looked bright and young; And it seemed a mighty power Was resting on his tongue.

And he gave us all his blessing— ’Twas parting words he said, For soon we got the message The dear old man was dead.

But I believe he’s in the kingdom, For when we shook his hand He said, “Children, you must meet me Right in the promised land;

“For when I’m done a moiling And toiling here below, Through the gate into the city Straightway I hope to go.”

Well, one morning real early I was going down the street, And I heard a stranger asking For Missis Chloe Fleet.

There was a something in his voice That made me feel quite shaky, And when I looked right in his face, Who should it be but Jakey!

I grasped him tight, and took him home— What gladness filled my cup! And I laughed, and just rolled over, And laughed, and just give up.

“Where have you been? O Jakey, dear! Why didn’t you come before? Oh! when you children went away My heart was awful sore.”

“Why, mammy, I’ve been on your hunt Since ever I’ve been free, And I have heard from brother Ben,— He’s down in Tennessee.

“He wrote me that he had a wife.” “And children?” “Yes, he’s three.” “You married, too?” “Oh no, indeed, I thought I’d first get free.”

“Then, Jakey, you will stay with me, And comfort my poor heart; Old Mistus got no power now To tear us both apart.

“I’m richer now than Mistus, Because I have got my son; And Mister Thomas he is dead, And she’s got nary one.

“You must write to brother Benny That he must come this fall, And we’ll make the cabin bigger, And that will hold us all.

“Tell him I want to see ’em all Before my life do cease: And then, like good old Simeon, I hope to die in peace.”

I thirst, but earth cannot allay The fever coursing through my veins, The healing stream is far away— It flows through Salem’s lovely plains.

The murmurs of its crystal flow Break ever o’er this world of strife; My heart is weary, let me go, To bathe it in the stream of life;

For many worn and weary hearts Have bathed in this pure healing stream, And felt their griefs and cares depart, E’en like some sad forgotten dream.

“The Word is nigh thee, even in thy heart.”

Say not, within thy weary heart, Who shall ascend above, To bring unto thy fever’d lips The fount of joy and love.

Nor do thou seek to vainly delve Where death’s pale angels tread, To hear the murmur of its flow Around the silent dead.

Within, in thee is one living fount, Fed from the springs above; There quench thy thirst till thou shalt bathe In God’s own sea of love.

“I would meet death awake.”

The strength that bore her on for years Was ebbing fast away, And o’er the pale and life-worn face, Death’s solemn shadows lay.

With tender love and gentle care, Friends gathered round her bed, And for her sake each footfall hushed The echoes of its tread.

They knew the restlessness of death Through every nerve did creep, And carefully they tried to lull The dying Queen to sleep.

In vain she felt Death’s icy hand Her failing heart-strings shake; And, rousing up, she firmly said, “I’d meet my God awake.”

Awake, I’ve met the battle’s shock, And born the cares of state; Nor shall I take your lethean cup, And slumber at death’s gate.

Did I not watch with eyes alert, The path where foes did tend; And shall I veil my eyes with sleep, To meet my God and friend?

Nay, rather from my weary lids, This heavy slumber shake, That I may pass the mystic vale, And meet my God awake.

THE JEWISH GRANDFATHER’S STORY.

Come, gather around me, children, And a story I will tell. How we builded the beautiful temple— The temple we love so well.

I must date my story backward To a distant age and land, When God did break our fathers’ chains By his mighty outstretched hand

Our fathers were strangers and captives, Where the ancient Nile doth flow; Smitten by cruel taskmasters, And burdened by toil and woe.

As a shepherd, to pastures green Doth lead with care his sheep, So God divided the great Red Sea, And led them through the deep.

You’ve seen me plant a tender vine, And guard it with patient care, Till its roots struck in the mellow earth, And it drank the light and air.

So God did plant our chosen race, As a vine in this fair land; And we grew and spread a fruitful tree, The planting of his right hand.

The time would fail strove I to tell, All the story of our race— Of our grand old leader, Moses, And Joshua in his place,

Of all our rulers and judges, From Joshua unto Saul, Over whose doomed and guilty head Fell ruin and death’s dark pall.

Of valiant Jephthah, whose brave heart With sudden grief did bow, When his daughter came with dance and song Unconscious of his vow.

Of Gideon, lifting up his voice To him who rules the sky, And wringing out his well drenched fleece, When all around was dry.

How Deborah, ’neath her spreading palms, A judge in Israel rose, And wrested victory from the hands Of Jacob’s heathen foes.

Of Samuel, an upright judge. The last who ruled our tribes, Whose noble life and cleanly hands, Were pure and free from bribes.

Of David, with his checkered life Our tuneful minstrel king, Who breathed in sadness and delight, The psalms we love to sing.

Of Solomon, whose wandering heart, From Jacob’s God did stray, And cast the richest gifts of life, In pleasure’s cup away.

How aged men advised his son, But found him weak and vain, Until the kingdom from his hands Was rudely rent in twain.

Oh! sin and strife are fearful things, They widen as they go, And leave behind them shades of death, And open gates of woe.

A trail of guilt, a gloomy line, Ran through our nation’s life, And wicked kings provoked our God, And sin and woe were rife.

At length, there came a day of doom— A day of grief and dread; When judgment like a fearful storm Swept o’er our country’s head.

And we were captives many years, Where Babel’s stream doth flow; With harps unstrung, on willows hung, We wept in silent woe.

We could not sing the old, sweet songs, Our captors asked to hear; Our hearts were full, how could we sing The songs to us so dear?

As one who dreams a mournful dream, Which fades, as wanes the night, So God did change our gloomy lot From darkness into light.

Belshazzar in his regal halls, A sumptuous feast did hold; He praised his gods and drank his wine From sacred cups of gold.

When dance and song and revelry Had filled with mirth each hall, Belshazzar raised his eyes and saw A writing on the wall.

He saw, and horror blanched his cheek, His lips were white with fear; To read the words he quickly called For wise men, far and near.

But baffled seers, with anxious doubt Stood silent in the room, When Daniel came, a captive youth, And read the words of doom.

That night, within his regal hall, Belshazzar lifeless lay; The Persians grasped his fallen crown, And with the Mede held sway.

Darius came, and Daniel rose A man of high renown; But wicked courtiers schemed and planned To drag the prophet down.

They came as men who wished to place Great honors on their king— With flattering lips and oily words, Desired a certain thing.

They knew that Daniel, day by day Towards Salem turned his face, And asked the king to sign a law His hands might not erase.

That till one moon had waned away, No cherished wish or thing Should any ask of men or Gods, Unless it were the king.

But Daniel, full of holy trust, His windows opened wide, Regardless of the king’s command, Unto his God he cried.

They brought him forth that he might be The hungry lion’s meat, Awe struck, the lions turned away And crouched anear his feet.

The God he served was strong to save His servant in the den; The fate devised for Daniel’s life O’er took those scheming men.

And Cyrus came, a gracious king, And gave the blest command, That we, the scattered Jews, should build Anew our fallen land.

The men who hated Juda’s weal Were filled with bitter rage, And ’gainst the progress of our work Did evil men engage.

Sanballat tried to hinder us, And Gashmu uttered lies, But like a thing of joy and light, We saw our temple rise.

And from the tower of Hananeel Unto the corner gate, We built the wall and did restore The places desolate.

Some mocked us as we labored on And scoffingly did say, “If but a fox climb on the wall, Their work will give away.”

But Nehemiah wrought in hope, Though heathen foes did frown “My work is great,” he firmly said, “And I cannot come down.”

And when Shemai counselled him The temple door to close, To hide, lest he should fall a prey Unto his cruel foes.

Strong in his faith, he answered, “No, He would oppose the tide, Should such as he from danger flee, And in the temple hide?”

We wrought in earnest faith and hope Until we built the wall, And then, unto a joyful feast Did priest and people call.

We came to dedicate the wall With sacrifice and joy— A happy throng, from aged sire Unto the fair-haired boy.

Our lips so used to mournful songs, Did joyous laughter fill, And strong men wept with sacred joy To stand on Zion’s hill.

Mid scoffing foes and evil men, We built our city blest, And ’neath our sheltering vines and palms To-day in peace we rest.

SHALMANEZER, _PRINCE OF COSMAN_.

BY MRS. FRANCES E. W. HARPER.

Shalmanezer, Prince of Cosman, stood on the threshold of manly life, having just received a rich inheritance which had been left him by his father.

He was a magnificent-looking creature—the very incarnation of manly strength and beauty. The splendid poise of his limbs, the vigor and litheness of his motions, the glorious light that flashed from his splendid dark eyes, the bright joyous smiles that occasionally wreathed his fresh young lips, and the finely-erect carriage of his head, were enough to impress the beholder with the thought, “Here is an athlete armed for a glorious strife!”

While Shalmanezer was thinking upon his rich inheritance and how he should use it, he suddenly lifted his eyes and saw two strange-looking personages standing near him. They both advanced towards Shalmanezer when they saw their presence had attracted his attention.

The first one that approached the young man and addressed him, was named Desire. He was a pleasant-looking youth, with a flushed face, and eager, restless eyes. He looked as if he had been pursuing a journey, or had been grasping at an object he had failed to obtain. There was something in his manner that betrayed a want of rest—a look in his eyes which seemed to say, “I am not satisfied.” But when he approached, he smiled in the most seductive manner, and, reaching out his hand to Shalmanezer said:

“I have come to welcome thee to man’s estate, and for thy enjoyment, I have brought thee three friends who will lead thee into the brightest paths, and press to thy lips the sweetest elixirs.”

Gladly the young man received the greeting of Desire, who immediately introduced his three companions, whose names were, Pleasure, Wealth, and Fame.—Pleasure was a most beautiful creature. Her lovely dark eyes flashed out a laughing light; upon her finely-carved lips hovered the brightest and sweetest smiles, which seemed ever ready to break into merry ripples of laughter; her robe was magnificently beautiful, as if it had imprisoned in its warp and woof the beauty of the rainbow and the glory of the setting sun; in her hand she held a richly wrought chalice in which sparkled and effervesced a ruby-colored liquid which was as beautiful to the eye as it was pleasant to the taste. When Pleasure was presented to Shalmanezer, she held out to him her cup and said in the sweetest tones:

“Come, drink of my cup, it is sparkling and bright As rubies distilled in the morning light; A truce to sorrow and adieu to pain— Here’s the cup to strengthen, soothe and sustain.”

Just as Shalmanezer was about to grasp the cup, the other personage approached him. Her name was Peace, and she was attended by a mild, earnest-looking young man called Self-Denial. In the calm depths of her dark-blue eyes was a tender, loving light, and on her brow a majestic serenity which seemed to say, “The cares of earth are at my feet; in vain its tempests sweep around my path.” There was also a look of calm, grand patience on the brow of her attendant, which gave him the aspect of one who had passed through suffering unto Peace. Shalmanezer was gazing eagerly on the fair young face of Pleasure, and about to quaff the sparkling nectar, when Peace suddenly arrested his hand and exclaimed:

“Beware of this cup! ’Neath its ruddy glow, Is an undercurrent of shame and woe; ’Neath its sparkling sheen so fair and bright, Are serpents that hiss, and adders that bite.”

The young man paused a moment, looked on the plain garb of Peace and then on the enchanting loveliness of Pleasure, and, pushing aside the hand of Peace with a scornful gesture, he said proudly and defiantly:

“I will follow Pleasure!”

Peace, thus repulsed, turned sadly away; and Self-Denial, wounded by Shalmanezer’s rude rejection, bowed his head in silent sorrow and disappeared from the scene.

As Peace departed, Shalmanezer eagerly grasped the cup of Pleasure and pressed it to his lips, while she clasped her hand in his and said in a most charming manner, “Follow me;” and then he went willingly to the place where she dwelt.

As Shalmanezer approached the palace of Pleasure he heard the sweetest music rising on the air in magnificent swells or sinking in ravishing cadences; at his feet were springing the brightest and fairest flowers; the sweetest perfumes were bathing the air with the most exquisite fragrance; beautiful girls moved like visions of loveliness through the mazy dance; rare old wines sparkled on the festal board; the richest viands and most luscious fruits tempted the taste; and laughter, dance and song filled the air with varied delights. For a while Shalmanezer was enraptured with the palace of Pleasure. But soon he became weary of its gay confusion. The merry ripples of laughter lost their glad freshness; the once delightful music seemed to faint into strange monotones—whether the defect was in his ear or in the music he could not tell, but somehow it had ceased to gratify him; the constant flow of merry talk grew strangely distasteful to him; the pleasant viands began to pall upon his taste; at times he thought he detected a bitterness in the rare old wines which Pleasure ever and anon presented to his lips, and he turned wearily away from everything that had pleased his taste or had charmed and entranced his senses.

Shalmanezer sat moodily wishing that Desire would return and bring with him another attendant to whom he had been introduced when he had first clasped hands with Pleasure, and whose name was Wealth. While he was musing, he lifted up his eyes and saw Wealth and Desire standing at the door of his Boudoir, and near them he saw the sweet loving face of Peace, who was attended by Self-Denial. Peace was about to approach him, but he repulsed her with an impatient frown, and turning to Desire he said: