The American Missionary. Volume 48, No. 10, October, 1894

A PRAYERFUL AND INDUSTRIOUS FAMILY

One of our deacons is the father and grandfather of a large number of people among whom he lives, and by whom he is greatly honored. He and his aged wife, who is good as can be, like himself, toil for their living all the week, and walk six miles Sunday morning to church. Sometimes she fails, for she is not quite so strong as her husband, but he is seldom absent. One of his sons-in-law, who has himself a son in Talladega College, is the most prompt and regular attendant the church has, and he comes the same six miles. These are not only faithful in church attendance, but are also to be counted among the truest of upright, honest, pure, industrious people.

Between twenty and twenty-five years ago, when they did not have homes of their own, they rented of a man, who, like Shylock, would hold them close to their bargain. One year the "destroyer" came, and crops were short everywhere. When the day was at hand for the landlord to come with his wagons for his share of the crop, they were greatly distressed. Acting upon the advice of a Christian woman, who was among them as their first teacher, they observed a day of rigid fasting and earnest prayer. "They were heard in that they feared." The dreaded day arrived; the man came with his wagons. In fear and trembling they turned everything over to him, but to their surprise he kindly said that he knew it had been a bad year. His crops, also, had been ruined. He loaded up a little, but left them enough for seed another year, and something to live on besides, and drove most of his wagons home empty.

For twenty-one or twenty-two years on the anniversary of that fast day all work has stopped, and a fast as rigid as the first, with special religious services, has been kept, and on June 21st a day of thanksgiving. On the first, which is in February, they ask for God's special blessing on the seed about to be planted, and on the work of their hands for the year, and on the day in June they praise the Lord for what prosperity they have enjoyed in the past. It was my privilege to attend both of these anniversaries this year. I found the people earnest, intelligent and strictly moral. These people appreciate the American Missionary Association and her work in their behalf. It would be long before they could themselves sustain such institutions as the Association has placed among them, but they are disposed to do so as rapidly as they become able.

A VISIT TO UNCLE TOM'S CABIN

BY J.W. HOLLOWAY, OF TURIN, GA

(Graduate of Class of 1894, Fisk University, Nashville, Tenn.)

On a hillside near a turnpike,
Just a mile or so from town,
In a double room log-cabin,
Lives a hero of renown.
There beneath a shady maple,
Summer evenings warm and fair,
You may find my swarthy hero
Calmly smoking, in his chair.

You've heard of Uncle Tom, most likely,
And his old log-cabin, too;
But for fear you've nothing recent,
I proceed to enlighten you.
"Ah!" say you, "I've heard the story
As it's told by Mrs. Stowe,
That old man is dead and buried,
Must be years and years ago."

Prithee, check your swift conclusion,
What you say can scarce be so,
For I know that this one's living
That I saw two hours ago.
Old and gray, and slightly stooping,
Black as ebony in hue,
He's a type of times departed,
Tho' he still survives the new,

Talks as if he owned a quarry,
Where they hew out slabs of gold,
Tho' to-day he gathered berries,
Which he took to town and sold.
Never was a hinder hostess
Than his old wife, Mary Ann,
And her baking is delightful
(To a very hungry man).

Thither went I in the gloaming,
For a night with Uncle Tom;
In the yard we "took it easy"
Till the supper time was come.
In a home-made crib beside him
Cooed a yearling partly dressed;
'Round his chair a dirty dozen
Whooped and yelled like all possessed.

"Lord a' mercy! Here's de teacher!
Chil'en run and fetch a chair;
'Fo' you come back dress yourselves,
An' git the keards and com' yer hair."
Sweeping over, children scattered,
Dogs and cats sent to the rear,
Uncle Tom, his pipe resuming,
Once more settled in his chair.

"I laid off to come to see ye
During o' de week dat's passed;
Must be scorin' de chil'en heavy,
Kase dey're learnin' pow'ful fast.
I believe in edication
When you teach it wid a pole;
Den you make 'im wise but humble,
Ruin his back out save his soul.

"Some folks b'lieve in pettiu' chil'en;
But I've raised enough to know,
Sho's you spare de rod you spile 'em.
Don't the Good Book tell you so?"
"Yes; but Uncle Tom," I quoted,
"Love will win where force will fail;
Men are honest made by trusting
In their honor"—"Dat's a tale;

"Never ketch me trustin' people,
Do dey're deacons in de church;
Folks dat trust in human nature
Allus git left in the lurch.
Der's some migh'y funny things put up
In dese packages called men,
And good folks do mighty bad things
Sometimes, jest bekase dey kin."

"Mr. Teacher, come to supper,"
(And the chimney piece struck nine)
"After dat we'll drive to meetin',
'Viding you are of de min'.
Tell me you are Congregationan;