There were about fifteen hundred people in the town of Lockburg. Some
five hundred of these were negroes. Nearly every white man owned his
home; nearly every negro owed his rent. Nearly every white man had a
bank account; nearly every negro, a grocery account. Renfroth, the
banker, was an ordinary man of the white race. Jiles Brennen, the
smartest negro in a circle of twenty miles, did not know the meaning of
interest. White children listened to their parents, read the daily
papers, and discussed the signs of the times. Negro children paraded the
street, delighted in being out of sight and hearing of their parents,
and but few could tell the time of day on the face of a clock. The white
teachers were competent and faithful. The one negro teacher had neither
legs nor training. The white people returned from church saying: "These
points in the sermon fit right into our business ventures. These show
our need of moral fiber and the remedy. May they do us good, as the
truth always does the meek and far-seeing." The negroes returned from
church shouting and praising some "preaching man."
Jiles Brennen and several others were an exception to this rule. Jiles
knew most of the white people better than they knew themselves. When he
conversed with them he always "talked up." He knew the negroes better
than they wanted to know themselves. There was not one who could not
repeat a score of "wayside sermons" preached by Jiles. "A rat to its
hole, and a negro to his folly," Jiles used to say. "When the last
trumpet sounds some negro will be dividing his time between saying
'amen' to a sermon and 'cluck, cluck' to his neighbor's chickens." This
remark brought Jiles more than fame. It brought blood.
"If the teacher and preacher of this district were killed and put into a
bag, their ghosts would be too lazy to say 'Howdy.'" When the preacher
heard this he offered a prayer for Jiles that was intended to remind him
of a warm region. When the teacher heard of this remark, he said: "As I
have no legs to go after the blackguard, I will let him come to his
sense at leisure."
One dark night, as the preacher and others were crawling across a creek
on a log someone held up a lantern in front of them.
"Go on," said the rest to the preacher.
"I can't," replied he. "This light blinds me."
"Come on," shouted Jiles, "my light has blinded you before."
The white people took up the remark, and with it fought all Jiles'
future battles.
Sickness and death determined negro society in Lockburg. All visited the
sick. All attended the funeral. Why should not all attend all other
functions? All answered the question for themselves, and attended
regularly.
A score of men and women were chatting in Sister Renfro's bedroom when
the preacher peeped in at the door and paused long enough to say: "Come
out to 'sifting meeting' to-night. Spread the news."
"Will Jiles be there with his lantern?" asked Neal Grafton, a friend of
Jiles.
"Never mind about that," answered Sister Renfro. "Say what you please
about him, but he's a preaching man."
Sister Renfro's guests soon began to spread the news. Neal Grafton was
the most active of all. He stood where he could command four corners.
"Sister Polly," he called to a rather corpulent woman who was passing
with a heavy bundle of clothes on her head, "stop a minute--'sifting
meeting' to-night!"
"What you say, Brother Grafton? Come here! You knows I can't hear like I
used to. I caught cold from shouting at the big meeting five years ago.
Who could have kept sober feet? _That_ was a preaching man."
"I say, Sister Polly----"
"Now, stop, son. Let me get in hearing order." After wiping her face
with her apron, she said: "Now go on, son."
"Sister Polly, there will be a 'sifting meeting'----"
"Hold, son! The bundle comes down over my ears. Raise it a little. A
'sifting meeting'? Where? Oh! at the church? Raise up the bundle again,
son. Now hold it there. Now tell me about it."
"That's all, Sister Polly."
"No! No! It's been five years since we had one. You heard your mother
tell about it, didn't you?"
"Yes, but----"
"I know you did; she was there. Sister Renfro was there. I was there. It
was a glorious time."
"Yes, Sister Polly, but----"
"My head's just beginning to rest, son. Well, the negroes lied and lied,
but one told the truth."
"May I put the bundle on the ground?"
"The clothes are clean, son. I'll head them again soon. That sister told
the truth and her head fell. Hold a little longer."
"Oh, my arms, Sister Polly!"
"Hold till I raise up that woman's head. I'll listen afterward."
"After I take the bundle?" "No, son. Hand it here. 'Sifting meeting' at
the church? I'll be there."
Sister Polly went on humming, and left Grafton rubbing his arms. He
notified a number of others, at a distance.