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Pioneer Colored Christians
BY
HARRIET PARKS MILLER
“The primitive order with its picturesque types, has passed with the
days that are dust. The mirthful banjo is mute, and the laughter,
songs, and shouts of the old plantation quarters no longer float out on
the evening air.”
[Illustration]
CLARKSVILLE, TENN.
W. P. TITUS, PRINTER AND BINDER
--1911--
TO THE READER.
In the busy rush of life, the virtues of single individuals too often
escape notice, or make but slight impression on the minds of their
contemporaries. It is in after years, when the actors are dead and
gone, that their virtues shine forth, and speak from the silence,
through the pen of some one who catches them before it is too late.
No history is richer, or more beautiful, than that written of lives led
by wisdom, and goodness.
The writing of this little book is inspired by a desire to perpetuate,
as examples, the lives of such people. While the trend of my thoughts
will center around one special family,--the Carrs--I shall not omit
honorable mention of other colored citizens, who walked upright among
their fellow men.
I shall also make mention of leading white people who befriended the
colored race in its early struggles for religious liberty.
I write with the hope, that what I say, will have a tendency to deepen
the sympathy, and kind feeling which should ever exist between the two
races living together in the South.
THE AUTHOR.
Port Royal, Tenn., July, 1911.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I.
Interview with Aunt Kitty Carr, September, 1901, in which she tells of
her birth in Virginia, 1815.
At six years of age, she was given by her mother to Mrs. Edmond
Winston, who one year later, brought her to Tennessee. Marriage in
early life to Rev. Horace Carr.
She was free born; effort to deprive her of her birth right.
By the assistance of kind white friends, she is enabled to legally
establish her freedom.
Reading of Prayer Book.
CHAPTER II.
Rev. Horace Carr.
His birth in Spring Creek neighborhood, in 1812.
Belonged to Aquilla Johnson, and was sold for a division of the estate.
Bought by Mr. James Carr, of Port Royal, Montgomery county, Tenn.
After master’s death, he hires himself from his mistress, and locates
on a retired spot near “Horse Shoe Bend” of Red River, by permission
of Mr. William Weatherford, its owner. Mode of making a living. Joins
Red River Church, and is ordained to preach. Invitation by Mr. E. L.
Fort, to preach on his premises.
CHAPTER III.
Worship of the two races together, in antebellum times.
Department in white churches for colored worshippers.
Civil war brings changes, and they have churches and schools of their
own.
Sketch of Dr. P. F. Norfleet, of Port Royal, Tenn., who gave land on
which to build Mount Zion, one of the first colored churches in Middle
Tennessee.
Amusing story of Mr. and Mrs. Ed. Hawkins, of Turnersville, Robertson
county, Tenn.
CHAPTER IV.
Aunt Kitty describes her vision, or dream, in which the future Mount
Zion appeared to her. It takes tangible form, and Rev. Horace Carr
assembles his people under a large white oak tree on the lot donated
by Dr. Norfleet, and assisted by Revs. Chess Ware, and Ben Thomas, of
Guthrie, Ky., organizes the church.
First house of worship soon erected. Too small, and later torn away to
give place to larger building.
Two buildings burned, but the faithful Christians did not lose hope.
List of charter members.
Younger generation following the religious footsteps of their ancestors.
Mr. William Bourne gives lot for burying ground.
CHAPTER V.
Rev. Althens Carr.
Birth and early life. Obtains education under great difficulties.
An eloquent pulpit orator.
Two funeral sermons heard by the writer.
William, and Jack Northington, two worthy brothers.
Why Uncle Arter Northington was called “Paul.”
CHAPTER VI.
Rev. Horace Carr tells of an antebellum corn shucking on Mr. Waters’
farm.
Describes great excitement in Port Royal neighborhood, the night the
stars fell, November, 1833.
CHAPTER VII.
Rev. J. W. Carr.
First work from home, and beginning of his education.
Letter of appreciation to Port Royal friend, a short time before his
death at Savannah, Georgia, August, 1907.
Statistics showing great progress of the colored Baptists of United
States, Georgia leading the Southern States along this line.
CHAPTER VIII.
Interview with Rev. Luke Fort (col.,) of Guthrie, Ky., in which he
tells of first sermon he ever heard Rev. Horace Carr preach.
Was the latter’s son-in-law nineteen years. Describes a patroler raid
on a quiet meeting being held one Saturday night on the E. L. Fort
plantation.
Joe Gaines’ o’possum, cooked for the Port Royal merchants, turns to a
house-cat, and he is made to eat same.
History of Benevolent Treasure Society, No. 7.
CHAPTER IX.
Visit to Aunt Eliza Gaines Williams. She talks pleasantly of her white
people, the Norfleets, and Gaines.
Describes last visit to Rev. Horace Carr. Second visit, for the purpose
of taking her picture. She was eighty-two, and this was her first
picture.
Dan, and Jerry Fort, aid materially in securing Mount Zion Church
history.
Uncle John McGowan.
His early life.
Tells of a chicken fry, and what it cost him.
Describes how he was sold.
Passing events of his life.
CHAPTER X.
Tribute to the late E. L. Fort.
History of Port Royal, Tennessee.
CHAPTER XI.
Passing of four of the most prominent members of the Carr family.
Sketch of Captain C. N. Carney, one of the early settlers of Montgomery
county.
Loyalty of his colored people, beginning first, with Uncle Isaac, the
faithful blacksmith on the Carney plantation.
Rev. Peter Carney (col.), Presbyterian minister, and remarkable
character.
Aleck Carney, a useful citizen, and church worker.
Betsy Neblett, his late sister, the “Good Samaritan” of her
neighborhood.
Closing remarks.
CHAPTER I.
“THEY HAVE GONE FROM OUR MORTAL VISION, BUT IN MEMORIES SWEET, THEY
ABIDE WITH US.”
The people whom you will meet in this little book did not live in fancy.
They were humble instruments through whom God sent a message clear, and
strong, that will go on, and on, through the coming years.
Realizing the rapidity with which the good old colored types were
passing away, I went one September afternoon, 1901, to see Aunt Kitty
Carr, for the purpose of obtaining some interesting facts concerning
herself, and her remarkable family.
Her husband, Uncle Horace Carr, had been dead twenty-four years, and
she was then living with her son Horace, at his farm on Red River, a
mile or two from Port Royal, Tennessee.
I found her on the back porch peeling peaches to dry, and when I made
known to her the intent of my visit, she was amused, and said, “Lor
Miss Harriet, what am _I_ say, that will be worth reading in a book?”
[Illustration: Aunt Kitty Carr.]
On assuring her of the esteem in which she and her family were held,
and the importance of such lives being left on tangible record, she
seemed willing to tell me, in her quaint way, what I wished to know.
Aunt Kitty was a small yellow woman, of refined features, and dignified
bearing.
She spoke as follows:
“Of course you have heard that I was free born?”
“Yes,” I replied, “you were the first free born person of your race,
that I ever saw.”
“I was born near Spotsylvania, Virginia, in 1815. That’s been a
_long_ time ago. I’ll soon be eighty-six years old. My children, and
grand-children are kind to me, and don’t want me to work, but I am not
satisfied to sit idle.
“My father was a Frenchman of some importance, by the name of Truell;
my only recollection of him was his long curly hair that came down to
his shoulders. My mother was free born, and gave me away.
“One bright spring day she was sweeping her front yard, and I, a little
girl of six years, was taking up the trash, that she swept together,
when a pretty white girl sixteen, or seventeen, rode past the gate,
and called for a drink of water. As she handed the drinking gourd back,
she said, ‘That’s a handy little girl you have there, I wish you’d give
her to me.’ ‘All right,’ mother replied, and the lady passed on, and
nothing more was thought of it, till nearly a year afterward, a nice
covered wagon drove up to our gate, and the same lady called for me.
“A few days before, she had married a Mr. Edmond Winston, and they were
going to housekeeping.
“My mother gathered together my little budget of clothes, and handed
little Kitty, and the clothes over to the colored driver, saying, ‘Here
take her.’
“And they took me; I have never thought mother acted right.
“The new married couple lived in Virginia about a year after that, when
they decided to come to Tennessee, and brought me with them. We came a
long journey, in that same covered wagon, and settled in District No.
1, Montgomery county, near where Fortson’s Spring now is.
“They were as kind to me, as they could be, and I was content to stay
with them.
“After coming to Tennessee, Mr. Winston did not live very long, and his
widow, after a respectable time, married a Mr. Coleman, grandfather of
the first Mrs. Polk Prince, and great grandfather of Mrs. Lewis Downer,
of Guthrie, Ky.
“But I was always called Kitty Winston. The Colemans and Johnsons were
related, and through their visiting from Fortson Spring neighborhood
to Spring Creek, farther down toward Clarksville, I met my lifetime
companion.
“He was the property of Mr. Aquilla Johnson, of Spring Creek, and was
first known as Horace Johnson.
“We were married when we were both quite young. Soon after our
marriage, it was necessary to make a division of the property, and Mr.
Johnson sold my husband to Mr. James Carr, of Port Royal, grandfather
of Mr. Ed, and Ross Bourne.
“We had not been long settled down to quiet, peaceable living in our
little cabin home, when it began to be whispered around among a cruel
class of white people called overseers, that I could be deprived of my
free birth right, and made a slave. Of course it made me very unhappy,
and I prayed earnestly over the matter.
“I went to sertain good white friends who had known me longest, and
laid the case before them, and they advised me to go to Esq. Dick
Blount, of Fortson’s Spring, and he would fix up some papers that
would establish my freedom for all time to come.
“I put out for the Blount home in haste, my husband going with me.
When we reached there, a member of the Esquire’s family told me he was
drunk, but if I could wait an hour or two, he might be sober enough to
talk to me. Of course I waited. We were seated in the back yard, and a
quiet couple we were, for it was a solemn time in our lives.
“By, and by, we saw the Esquire came out on the back porch, and washed
his face. I whispered and asked Horace, if he reckoned he was washing
the drunk off.
“We walked up to the door, and told our mission; Esq. Blount advised us
to go on to Clarksville, and said he would follow on shortly.
“We waited, and waited, on the Court House steps, and I had about
decided he was not coming, when we looked up the street, and saw him.
“He took an iron square, and measured my height, wrote a description of
my features, and asked me if there were any scars on my body. I knew of
none, except a small one the size of a silver dime, on the back of my
neck, caused from the deep burning of a fly blister. I showed him that.
“He kindly fixed up the papers, and handed them to me. I kept them
closely guarded, till my oldest daughter, Mary Waters, was going to
move to the State of Ohio to live, and not knowing what might happen
to her there, she asked me for them, and I willingly gave them to
her. I always regretted that I did not keep a copy, for it would be a
curiosity to the present generation.”
As she quietly sat, and told me all this, her grand daughter, Eleanora
Carr Johnson, was an attentive listener, never having before heard
such details of antebellum history. The afternoon seemed too short; so
pleasant was the interview that I regretted not having gone oftener, to
see her. She referred incidentally to a little prayer book, “Morning
and Night Watches,” by Rev. J. R. McDuff, D. D., from which I had often
read to her, in days gone by, and expressed a desire to hear a certain
chapter once more.
Feeling that she would enjoy hearing it, I had carried the little
book along with me, and read to her as follows: “May it be mine to
cheerfully follow the footsteps of the guiding Shepherd through the
darkest, loneliest road, and amidst thickest sorrows may I have grace
to say, ‘Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him.’”
“Lord, increase my faith, let it rise above all trials, and
difficulties. And if they arise, may they only drive me closer to
Him who has promised to make me more than conqueror. I am a pilgrim,
pitching my tent day, by day, nearer heaven, imbibing every day more of
the pilgrim character, and longing more for the pilgrim’s rest.
“May I be enabled to say, with the chastened spirit of a passing world,
‘Here I have no continuing city.’
“May this assurance reconcile me to all things.
“Lord, hasten Thy coming, and Thy kingdom.
“Scatter the darkness that is hovering over heathen nations.
“Stand by Thy Missionary servants. Enable us all, to be living more
from day to day, on Thy grace, to rely on Thy guiding arm with more
childlike confidence, looking with a more simple faith to Thy finished
work.
“Be the God of all near, and dear to me.
“May all my ties of blood, scattered far and wide over the earth, be
able to claim a spiritual relationship with Thee, so that those earthly
bonds of attachment, which sooner or later, must snap asunder here, be
renewed, and perpetuated before the great white throne.”
As I read, she clasped her hands and looked reverently upward, as if
her soul were drinking in the spirit of the great writer.
She followed me to the front gate, and thanked me for my visit.
It was the last time I ever saw her.