Wanted, a Mission School.
Let us follow Miss Viola LeMonde and Miss Henrietta Harvey in their
effort to organize a Sunday School among the "Poor Whites."
It was a beautiful day in September when the two young ladies seated in
the phaeton drawn by Velox and Dolly and driven by faithful Mose made
their way into the hill country. Their object was to visit as many
families in a remote section as possible, and try to get their consent
to join the proposed school.
After riding a number of miles they came to the family of Mart Spink.
The two-room cabin in which they lived had the distinction of being
built of hewn logs. It also had a "lean-to," or low ell, attached to
the larger part.
Fortunately they found the "old man," Mart Spink, at home. He seemed
surprised to behold such a fine turnout stop at his door, but showed a
native gallantry as he came to the carriage.
"Howdy, ladies, I'se glad to see you. Won't you 'light, and walk into
de house?"
"Thank you," replied Viola. "My name is Viola LeMonde, and this is my
friend, Miss Henrietta Harvey. We have come to consult you on some
important business, and shall be glad to step into your cottage."
With this remark they both dismounted from the phaeton, and passed into
the house.
Here they found the whole family, and Mr. Spink introduced them in
order to the ladies--his wife, Lucinda, his oldest daughter, Susanna,
then Elmira, Robert and Jonathan.
Mart Spink invited the ladies to be seated, and they sat down on
splint-bottom chairs.
Viola LeMonde opened the business in hand: "Mr. Spink, some of us
living in the bottoms, knowing that you dwell so far away from any
church that you and your neighbors cannot well attend public religious
services, have decided to start a Sunday School in this locality, if we
can find a suitable place, and if the people are willing to come to it.
"Not long ago Rev. John Larkin, whom perhaps you have seen, suggested
your house as the best place in these hills in which to begin a school.
What do you say to the proposition?"
Mart Spink replied: "Well, I was born in Nashville, Tennessee, and
lived thar with my parents till I was eight years old. I went to school
thar and learned how to read and write a little. I also went to church
and Sunday School some.
"Then they took up land here in de backwoods, and since that time I
have had mighty little chance to larn out of books and to go to
meetin'.
"Yes, I would be rale glad to have you start a school in my house, if
Lucinda is willin'. What do you say, wife?"
Lucinda: "Let us have de school by all means; de sooner de better. I
want it for your sake, Mart, and mine, but specially for our boys and
girls."
So the consent was given and the matter settled.
Susanna Spink, the oldest child, sat opposite Viola LeMonde during the
conversation. She was fourteen years old, and was of such striking
beauty that both the visitors were impressed by it. Her chief
attraction was her eyes. Once seen they could never be forgotten. The
eyebrows were dark and of medium size. The lashes were black and long.
Her eyes were large, clear, deep blue in color. One could look down
into their wondrous depths and imagine one could see the very soul of
the child.
Susanna was all attention during the talk about the school. She spoke
no word, but the look of her eyes spoke volumes to Viola. She knew that
the child was intensely interested in the project. That hour by an
invisible and mysterious power the souls of the woman and child were
welded together into a union of friendship and devotion which death
itself could not part. Neither suspected at this time what a test of
this devotion was to appear in the future.
Highly pleased with the success of their first visit the ladies entered
the carriage, and Viola directed Mose to drive to the home of the Wiles
family. Arriving there they were greeted by the furious barking of a
pack of dogs and by the staring looks of some of the children. Mrs.
Wiles was in the front yard hanging out some faded and frayed clothing
on the line.
We must give the names of this interesting family. Those at home were
Mrs. Deborah Wiles and her children Ephraim, Priscilla, Martha, and
Ruth. The father, Simon, was absent, and also his precious son, Sam,
whose acquaintance we have already made. The remaining son, Reuben, was
visiting a near neighbor about three miles distant. However much of
original depravity existed in this family the parents were determined
that they should be fortified with biblical names.
Mrs. Wiles showed small courtesy to the strangers, for she did not call
off the dogs or speak to the visitors till she had hung out to dry the
last remaining piece of washing.
Then she turned to the carriage, and inquired of the ladies what they
wanted. Viola and Henrietta without any invitation stepped down from
the vehicle, and made known their mission.
Mrs. Wiles expressed herself unfavorable to the idea. She said they
were gittin' along well enough without any church meetin's, and they
did not want any of de high-toned people from de bottoms to come up
there, putting on airs, treating them as ignorant, and no 'count white
trash, and making fun of their farms and houses.
But different words sprang from the lips of Ephraim and Priscilla.
Ephraim, the boy who a few years before had discovered Wind Cave, now
grown to a good sized youth, said: "You are wrong, ma. Most of us
around here are a low down set without books or religion. If these
ladies are willin' to spend their time to come all this way and teach
us larnin' and de Bible, I say we ought to thank them, and help them to
start de school."
Priscilla said she agreed with her brother and thought it was time they
"were gittin' out of their pore way of livin'," and she would be glad
"to jine de school" if her mother would let her.
Mrs. Wiles gave a cold consent, and the carriage drove away, the ladies
thankful that they had secured at least two more advocates of their
scheme.
Mose spoke to his mettled steeds and soon they were drawing the
carriage over an unfrequented road through a deep forest to the cabin
of Harrop Sneath. He and his house were typical of the poorest of the
"poor whites." His cabin consisted of one room, about fourteen feet
square, with one door and no windows. It was made of unhewn logs
plastered with clay. The only daylight which entered the cabin came
through the door when open and down the chimney. On the inside stood a
bedstead made of poles stuck between the logs of the angle, the outside
corner supported by a crotched stick. The table was a huge hewn log,
standing on four pegs. A log bench or two took the place of chairs. The
cooking utensils consisted of an iron pot, which hung in the big
chimney, a kettle and skillet and a few pewter and tin dishes. The loft
was the sleeping place of most of the children. It was reached by a
ladder of wooden pins driven into the logs.
Harrop Sneath was too lazy and shiftless to work much. He cultivated in
a careless way a small piece of cleared ground around his cabin on
which he raised a little Indian corn. The meat for his family was
provided by his rifle, for the woods abounded in game--deer, wild
turkeys, etc.
It was in such a cabin that Abraham Lincoln was born in another part of
Kentucky about this time.
When Viola and Henrietta entered the clearing Sneath was sitting in the
sun on a log bench in front of his cabin. He was a man in middle life
and like most of the hillside settlers was the father of several
children.
The young ladies addressed him pleasantly, and asked after his family
and his crops.
He replied, that "de old woman and de kids war right peart; that de
crops were most a dead failure because of de dry spell." He "'lowed a
dry spell war mighty bad for crops on hillside farms." In this he was
quite right.
By this time the "old woman" and some of the kids had come into the
yard. Among them was Jemima Sneath, the oldest daughter. She was
apparently about twenty years of age, and was a large, healthy young
woman.
Henrietta Harvey was the speaker this time, and in a clear and emphatic
manner made their mission known. She told them about the school, what a
blessing it would be to the community, the families and each one. It
would improve their minds, help to remove the evils which all knew
existed in the hills, help to put the farmers on their feet by showing
them how to raise better crops.
Trying to awaken a greater interest in the father she said: "Mr.
Sneath, when you are not working on your place or hunting, how do you
pass the time?"
He answered with a slow drawl: "Well, most ginerally I sot on de bench
in shade in summer and in de sun in winter. Sometimes I sot and think,
and sometimes I jest sot."
Such a man they felt it difficult to arouse, but when Viola added her
invitations and arguments to those of her friend, poor Sneath awoke
enough to the situation to hold his head up higher and widen his
shoulders a trifle.
The one most interested was Jemima, the oldest daughter. She promised
to attend the first meeting and to become a member of the school.
Viola now directed Mose to drive them still farther through the woods
to the home of Zibe Turner, the monster dwarf. They would not have
dared to beard this lion in his den, but knowing he had left the county
for the time being, they wished, if possible, to interest his mother
and sister in the school.
As they drew up to the house the dwarf's mother stood in the doorway,
her daughter looking over her shoulder. The mother might have been a
twin sister of Sycorax, the dam of Caliban. She was tall and slim,
dressed in a coarse, hand-woven dress. Her long, scant hair fell down
over her shoulders. Her face was that of a hag. Her few teeth were
stained yellow with tobacco.
As soon as Viola spoke of the school, this vixen, raising her right arm
to its greatest height and clenching her hand, broke out in wild
vituperation:
"What do de like of ye, comin' into our hills in yer fine carriage to
see how pore we air and to look down on us? Woud you uns larn us to be
good in yer school? We uns air as good as you uns even if we don't live
in big houses and drive fast hosses. Away with you! Me and mine will
have nuthin' to do with yer mission."
In a similar vein she continued to pour out a volley of loud and
abusive words, interlarding them with such oaths and curses as would
have surprised a Billinsgate fishwoman.
Viola tried for a brief time to reason with her, and present their plea
for the mission school, but, finding it was useless to remain longer,
told Mose to drive away. When they had reached the shelter of the woods
the slave said: "Ah neber hurd a deck han' on de ribber cuss and swear
lak dat po' white woman."
Still these noble ladies, inspired with a high resolve to help the
lowly, undismayed continued their work. In the course of two or three
days a sufficient number of persons had agreed to attend the school to
warrant its being opened with much promise.