The American Missionary. Volume 50, No. 04, April, 1896

The South

Notes by the Way

Secretary A.F. Beard.

In making my rounds among the schools of the Association and of the churches I find new experiences in old paths and new incidents by the way. Within the limitations of "an article" I cannot recall them, but I invite my readers to visit with me some of the places en route.

FARM BUILDINGS, ENFIELD, N. C.

It is not a long journey from New York to Enfield, N. C. We will not find a New England village there when we leave the Weldon and Wilmington Railway. It is quite another part of the world. A ride[pg 118] of four miles among plantations and cotton fields brings us to the latest-born school of the Association. Here are a thousand acres of arable land, which ought to be a fortune to its owner and has been in years gone by. Now, however, cotton and corn have ceased to be kings, oftentimes they are more like beggars. Thus it came to pass that this noble plantation became the property of a benevolent lady in Brooklyn, N. Y., who made it a splendid gift to the Association, with sufficient money to build the fine brick building which stands in the center of this great farm, the beginning of the "Joseph K. Brick Normal, Agricultural, and Industrial School."

Is it needed? We will say it is when we have acquainted ourselves with the condition of the colored people in these parts. I know not what could have been their condition in slavery. Except for the buying and the selling, it could not have been worse than we find it here to-day. Rags, ignorance, poverty, and degradation indescribable are in the cabins. Have the children been taught in any school? No. Can the parents read? No. Shall we find a Bible in the cabins? No. Weak, wicked, and absolutely poor, in dumb and stolid content with animalism and dirt, here families are herding like cattle, in windowless and miserable cabins of one room. The children who fail to receive the benignity of death grow up here and exist and suffer in this dreadful life. Yet we can ride by this plantation and in sight of it any day on our way to Florida, and never see what is so near. Nevertheless, here it is a reality much worse than it reads, for ten times one are ten and ten times ten are one hundred.

In such environment and conditions is our "Agricultural and Industrial School" now half way through its first year.

PRINCIPAL T. S. INBORDEN.

If the principal of it should tell the story of his life, how he walked eight miles every day for three months of the year to learn to read and write; how he worked for 20 cents a day to raise enough money to get away from his limitations for an education; how he became bell-boy at a hotel until he earned enough to buy a grammar, an arithmetic, and a dictionary; how he found himself at last at Fisk University with $1.25 with which to continue his studies for eight years before he could graduate; how he worked his patient way along teaching in vacation, pulling himself up hand over hand, it would pay one to stay over a day for it. There were only a few times during[pg 119] the eight years in Fisk when he had money enough to stamp a half dozen letters at once. This story, however, differs only in its incidents from that of other students at all of our colleges. The story of their struggles is the story of their strength.

 
"Shock and strain and struggle are
Friendlier than the smiling days."
 

All of the teachers at Enfield are graduates of Fisk University, and they each have their own story how heavy-weighted with poverty, they kept "inching along" with a resolute faith that had divinity in it. Are they not the very ones to help upward the poor boys and girls about them who, until this year of grace, never had one chance in life, and never dreamed of one? We will keep our eyes on the school at Enfield.

YOUNG MEN'S HALL, ENFIELD, N.C.

Next accompany me to Beaufort, N. C.. It is a place to visit. After we have gone as far as the land holds out, we set sail for a queer little town as far into the sea as it could get; but when once we have arrived there we are repaid for any temporary discomfort on the waters. We find at Beaufort, "Washburn Seminary" with its excellent industrial plant–a school of much merit–and a church that gives us who are watching and caring for churches through their weaknesses and doubtful times, much encouragement. A few years ago it was a question if[pg 120] the church would survive. Now it lives and stands for not a little and has strength of its own. Here, at the time of our visit, a young man, whose only educational privileges had been those of "Washburn Seminary," preached his first sermon to a congregation which crowded the church. It was a most creditable discourse in method, matter, and manner. The best of it is that, among those who have always known him, there is the common testimony that the young preacher lives his faith. Such incidents as this are not singular in the history of our schools and churches, but they are significant. They represent the evolution that is going on.

Of our visits at Wilmington, Greenwood, Athens and Marietta, Atlanta and Anniston, we make no record.

We will come to Talladega. President DeForest, with his hearty grip and whole-souled voice, gave me good welcome to Talladega. We were in old times classmates and friends at Yale, when we called ourselves boys. "You must not stop in the Hall this time, but come to my home and we will talk over what Talladega is doing and what we ought to do," he insisted. Precious days were those, as I now recall them, with this scholarly man, so instinct with faith, so earnest and hopeful in his work, so happy in his family, and so full of plans for the time to come. We talked together of the interests of the institution which, within seventeen years, he had led on from a normal school to a college. Together we went through the various classrooms and heard the recitations; the mathematics cultivating the reasoning powers, the geography giving correct views of the world, the history widening the vision of it, the astronomy unfolding God's love of order and truth. We heard together the lessons in language, in ethics, in mental philosophy, and saw the students taking on strength and character, whom he had watched from grade to grade, from year to year. Not only in the theological department, where students were intent upon their calling, but in the farm work, in the industrial classes, everywhere, and on everything, was the stamp of earnest Christianity. So, through president and teachers, the highest ideals had been constantly held before the students. It was inspiration to me to meet once more the devoted teachers of the College, and the students, greedy for knowledge and willing to work for it, on the farm, in the industries, and in whatever way they could earn enough to help themselves through the year. When the time came for the "Goodbye," with the hearty invitation "come again," he did not know, nor I, that before a month should pass I should "come again" to look my farewell upon my silent friend who could no more welcome me. He had no word for me but I heard a word, "Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord, for they rest from their labors and their works do follow them." Surely the works of[pg 121] this man of God will follow him. The slow procession on that funeral day moved out of sight, and the next day the usual College work went on, but the days for Talladega have been sad.

I would that I might extend the invitation to continue and visit a score of places with schools and churches on this journey, each of which gave to me its own suggestions. There is the unique and fruitful school at Cotton Valley, with its record of transformations; there are Selma and Tougaloo, Jackson, New Orleans, Mobile, Thomasville, Albany, Marshallville, Andersonville, Macon, Savannah, Charleston, Knoxville, Jonesboro, and others, where schools and churches, hand in hand, are saving the needy peoples. I can only say that as I visited these and other places I was constantly cheered both by the fidelity of the workers and by the efficiency of their work. The story of these workers together with God will never be fully told.

In many places I found deepest poverty. The greatest luxury of the poor people is the "schooling" of their children. Parents will go hungry for this. Many of the children trudged along barefooted for miles when ice was on the pools by the roadside. I found, as I have before, churches and schools leavening their communities with more intelligent manhood and womanhood, with better homes, with wiser industries and economies, with stronger and truer characters. Many times I said: "If the good people who have ordained and sustained this work until now could only see it and know it as it actually is, our distressing debt would vanish within half a year. Our Jubilee would come, and we should 'arise and shine and give God the glory.'"