CHAPTER VI

A RIDE WITH IRENE

Soon after this talk Miss Davis and I visited prominent places in

the city of Phœnix. I had anxiously waited for this opportunity. An

uncontrollable desire to fulfill this engagement had grown on me, from

the day she informed me that she had planned the outing. We visited

McPherson’s monument, and standing with head uncovered in its shadow, I

said that I was glad to see that the cause he fought for was recognized

as a blessing to the South as well as to the North. She replied that

some of her relatives perished in defense of the South, but she had

been often told by her father that her ancestors considered slavery a

great wrong and liberated their slaves by will.

“In fact,” she remarked with womanly intuition, “I can see no reason

for their having had slaves at the outset. Why couldn’t the Negroes

have served us, from the first, as _freemen_, just as they did after

their emancipation? What was the necessity for adopting a system that

gave a chance for the brutal passions of bad men to vent themselves?

The whole country has suffered in its moral tone because of slavery,

and we are not as pure minded a nation to-day as we should have been

without it.”

I replied that it was commercialism that fixed slavery in the nation

and rooted and grounded it so deep that scarcely could it be eradicated

without destroying the nation itself. I noticed that she had none of

the Southern woman’s prejudice against “Yankees,” so prevalent in my

day, and that she was far enough removed from the events of the Civil

War to look at them dispassionately.

What a difference doth time make in people and nations. What is wisdom

to-day may be the grossest folly to-morrow, and the popular theme of

to-day maybe ridiculed later on. Ye “men of the hour” beware! The much

despised Yankee has taught the South many lessons in industry, in the

arts, sciences and literature, but none more valuable to her than to

forsake her prejudice against the evolution of the Negro.

We rode out to Chattahoochee farm, noted for its picturesqueness

and “up-to-dateness,” a paying institution entirely under the

management of Negroes. The superintendent was a graduate from the State

Agricultural College for Negroes, near Savannah.

“Are there any other farms of this kind in the state under Negro

management,” I asked.

She replied that there were many, that a majority of the landowners of

the state had found it profitable to turn vast tracts of land over to

these young Negro graduates, who were proving themselves adepts in the

art of scientific farming, making excellent salaries, and returning

good dividends on the investments.

I remarked that I used to wonder why this could not be done with the

young Negroes coming out from such schools--since their ante-bellum

fathers were so successful in this line--and I further said that this

movement might have been inaugurated in my day, but for the opposition

of the politicians, who approached the Negro question generally with no

sincere desire to get effective results, but to make political capital

for themselves.

She at once suggested, “And so you believe it was a good idea then to

dispense with the politicians?”

“Indeed,” said I, “they were horrible stumps in the road of progress.”

We ended our ride after a visit to the park, which was a beautiful

spot. It served not only as a place of recreation, but Musical,

Zoölogical, Botanical and Aquarian departments were open to the public,

and free lectures were given on the latest inventions and improvements,

thus coupling information with recreation, and elevating the thoughts

and ideas of the people. I noticed the absence of the old time signs

which I had heard once decorated the gates of this park, “Negroes

and dogs not allowed.” Of course Irene had never seen or heard of

such a thing and I therefore did not mention my thoughts to her. She

was a creature of the new era and knew the past only from books and

tradition. I had the misfortune, or pleasure, as the case may be, of

having lived in two ages and incidents of the past would continually

rise before me in comparison with the present.

On reaching my room that evening I felt that my trip with Miss Davis

had been very agreeable and very instructive, but still there was an

aching void--for what I did not know. Was it that we did not converse

on some desired subject?

Light Ahead for the Negro · 第 6 / 10 章