If one of them heard a threat
against us he would guard our house all night with a shotgun, and
would shadow me as I went about in the night, ready to spring upon any
of my assailants.
[Illustration: Ups and Downs in the Wild Woods.]
I provided a school and church for these loving, dusky children,
and it was pathetic and cheering to see them all, from the tiny
pickaninnies to the tottering gray heads, going regularly with their
primers and Bibles, trying to learn to read and write.
Many pleasant evenings in midwinter we sat on our vine-clad piazza,
enjoying the balmy breezes, perfumed with the delicious orange
blossoms, looking at the stately pines glorified by moonlight and
starlight; listening to the songs of these dark-faced but white-souled
serenaders, the whites of whose eyes and perfect teeth could be seen
beaming upon us through the dusky shades of the forest.
On the evening of the day when news arrived of the first election of
Grover Cleveland to the Presidency, we were sitting as usual on our
piazza, when, suddenly, I saw a flash of fire in the woods, followed
by the report of a rifle, then others in quick succession. Rushing to
the scene I found a few Southern whites armed with repeating rifles,
facing a large band of negroes carrying a motley array of pitchforks,
scythes, razors, clubs, and a few ancient shotguns. Yelling: "Hold
up!" I sprang between the embattled hosts, and demanded to know what
was the row.
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