UNCLE LEVI.
In a dense pine woods were a small lot of cleared ground, and a hut built of pine logs with clay chimney. The earthen floor was often sprinkled with clean white sand. A few peach-trees surrounded the cabin. Near by was a spring of sweet water. Here the mocking-bird sang his wild notes, and the owl woke the slumbering echoes of the night. Every thing in the inclosure seemed contented. The pig ate, grunted, and slept. The cow lay chewing her cud. The watch-dog whined in his daydreams outside the hut in a sunny corner; and puss lay stretched in the fire-place within. In summer time, after morning class and preaching, might have been seen an aged couple, sitting at the door of their tent — Uncle Levi and his wife. Levi was a slave in law, but never in spirit. The master who owned him in his old age, treated him with great kindness and respect. He was the patriarch of the great home plantation. He was converted under the first Methodist preacher that visited Maryland.
Levi has now passed into the heavens. When I saw him last, his form was erect; his white hair gave him a venerable appearance. He was a remarkable man in his moral tone. He was rigidly honest and truthful. He had not tasted liquor since his conversion. He would not go in debt. He spent all his leisure time in cultivating his lot; and, enjoying remarkable health, he was regular at church. He related to me substantially the following incident in his history. When he joined the Methodist Society, he was taught that to drink spirituous liquor was a sin, except in cases of necessity. Harvest time came. All the hands drank but himself. His master observed that he refused to drink. He wanted to know the reason. Uncle Levi informed him that he was a Methodist, and it was wrong for him to drink. He told his master that he "did more work now than when he drank." His master said "he should drink." He refused. His master got into a rage and ordered the hands to tie him. His master had a glass of liquor pressed to his mouth, but Levi closed his lips. Sending to the house for his gun, his master loaded it in his presence. He had the bosom of his slave laid bare, and gave him a short time to decide whether he would obey. If he did not, he told him he would shoot him on the spot, for rebellion. Levi replied that he could not sin against Christ, and that he was willing to be shot. He was convinced that his master would do what he said; but, just at the critical moment, a friend rode up, and inquired what was the matter; took the gun from the infuriated man; and, finding that Levi did not mean to disobey his master in things lawful, soon brought about a reconciliation. Ever afterward his master loved and respected him.
Here was a noble instance of the martyr spirit. Such was Uncle Levi. There was no power in chattel slavery to make him do a thing that he thought was contrary to the will of heaven. And to be a Christian, every slave must be ready to die at any time.
CHAPTER V
ABOLITIONIST
WHAT a mad dog is on the crowded thoroughfare — what a heretic is in Spain — what a Republican is in Russia, the abolitionist is in the Slave States.
Many good but timid men fear and tremble at the very thought of being branded as an abolitionist. This one word of twelve letters has done more to kill off the antislavery feeling of the South, in church and state, than any other in the English language. The slaveholder will not stop to define it. That would defeat his object. The term is now applied to men of the purest Christian faith and morals.
Let it be known that you believe slavery to be a sin; that you mean what you say, then take care. Once let a negro-catcher, or a grog-shop politician, point you out, and say, as you walk the streets "There goes an abolitionist!" you are at the mercy of the mob, unless your wealth and political influence shield you. A Methodist slaveholder, who was defending his right to hold slaves, said to me, "I hear that you are an abolitionist." "Sir," I replied, "if you mean by abolitionist one that would persuade a slave to run a way from his master, or cut his master's throat, then I am not an abolitionist; but, if you mean one who believes it a sin to hold one's fellow-beings in bondage, then I am an abolitionist."
I could relate a bitter experience on this subject, giving dates and places; but I forbear. Ofttimes has the lip of contempt and the eye of vengeance met my glance, the vulgar jest and obscene allusion saluted my ears, as the "negro preacher" passed along. I have known good men, who would not hold slaves, when questioned upon the subject, say, "I am no abolitionist." There is one thing that gives me pleasure, in view of a dying hour and the judgment-seat of Christ, — that I have not quailed before the oppressors of the African race. I believe that, on the subject of slavery and religion, there is no neutral ground. Opposition to slavery "in the abstract" will not do before Heaven, and will not do much longer before men. The conservatives will have to quit blowing hot and cold, and must take a decided position one way or the other.
TATTLING.
Slavery produces laziness, and laziness begets tale-bearing and tattling. This is natural. If people will not labor either with their hands or head, or both, in useful employment, they will use their tongues about other people's business. The masses of the South are not readers. Yet they have all the natural talent and inquisitiveness of the people of New England, without their industry, books, and periodicals to supply the demand for intellectual stimulus. Hence there is necessarily more "small talk" in the South than in the North. Many of the slaves are perfect adepts in it; yet they are wholly irresponsible. It is considered dishonorable for persons to break friendship on what is called "nigger news." Yet it is done; and the difficulty is that you cannot reconcile the parties, for the one that believes the negro testimony is ashamed to avow the authorship of the mischief, and the other party remains in ignorance of the cause of the altered conduct of his friend. This is a feature of Southern society, arising out of slavery, which I have not seen alluded to by any writer on the subject. But experience as a pastor has taught me the lesson. Neighbors often get to know the family secrets of one another through their servants, to the great annoyance and mortification of high-minded gentlemen and ladies, who abominate and detest tattling in all persons and classes. Masters and mistresses are frequently not careful in talking before some half-grown negro girl, who pretends to be snoring fast asleep in the chimney corner; and some servants, finding that tattling pleases their mistresses, become quite skillful in manufacturing stories about their neighbors, in order to minister to this morbid curiosity.
Example — Scene first and last.
MRS. SLOUCHY and her slave girl NELL.
MRS. TWADDLE.
Mr. SODAWATER; his slaves NANCE, BOB, and BILL.
MISS TRUTHFUL.
Mrs. Slouchy. "Nell, run right quick and tell Mrs. Twaddle to come over and spend the afternoon with me; tell her she must be sure and come, and bring her snuff-box with her."
Nell goes, running with all speed. Mrs. Twaddle comes immediately.
Mrs. Slouchy. "How are you, Mrs. Twaddle? I am so glad to see you. I have been thinking about you the whole blessed day. Right smart and cold to-day, Mrs. Twaddle; take a seat by the fire. Nell, you can go after your cow, and cut some wood for the night. Nell, get