“IN TRAVELING FROM THIS WORLD TO THE NEXT, THE ROAD IS NO WIDER FOR
THE PRINCE, THAN THE PEASANT.”--_Sancho Panza._
In that period of our country’s history known as “slave time,” the
white people encouraged the colored race to serve God, and received its
converts into their own churches, and worshipped with them.
In most of the meeting houses, there were galleries, or separate
apartments, in which the colored members sat, and listened to the
Gospel preached by white ministers.
Their membership was received into the Baptist Associations, on equal
terms, and the colored ministers often preached during the several
days sessions of these assemblies. Elder Horace Carr did, when the
Association was held at Red River Church.
Speaking of the separate apartments in the churches, the writer has a
vivid recollection of the orderly colored congregation that occupied
the upper gallery of old Harmony Church, three miles south of Port
Royal, in Robertson county.
Near the front, could be seen such devout Christians as old Uncle
Allen Northington, Aunt Sydney Norfleet, Aunt Sylvia Carney, Aunt
Lucy Parks, Aunt Becky Northington, Aunt Cely Northington, etc. It
was a rare occurrence that a colored child was seen at church, but
you would notice numerous white children sitting in the laps of their
good old “Black Mammys” as they called them. But while this Christian
brotherhood was being enjoyed, another day was dawning, in which a
new order of things was to take place. The primitive order, with its
picturesque types, was doomed to pass away. The broad plantation of
the old Southern planter was to undergo material changes, and every
influence for good was becoming more and more in unison with the great
master chord of Christianity.
Surely the hand of Divinity was in it all, or it would not have been so.
The Civil War came on, and the Institution of Slavery was abolished.
It was not only Aunt Kitty Carr, Uncle Granville Wimberly, and a few
others, that were referred to as “free born,” but _all_ were free!
[Illustration: “Riverside;” home of the late E. L. Fort.]
The desire for schools and churches of their own was awakened, and
the right kind of white people were ready, and willing, to lend them a
helping hand. Among the first to lead substantially in this direction,
in Montgomery county, was Dr. P. F. Norfleet, of Port Royal.
Brief sketch of this fine old gentleman: Dr. Philip Ford Norfleet was
born in the early part of the past century, at his father’s homestead
on the Nashville road, one and a half miles south of Port Royal. In
later years the place was known as the Dr. J. T. Darden farm.
In his early twenties he was sent to a medical college, and was later
on considered one of the best physicians of his day.
He was a charter member of Harmony Missionary Baptist Church, organized
in 1835, and while it was said of him, that he sowed his share of wild
oats in early life, after joining the church he doubled his diligence
in good works.
He was married during his twenties, to Miss Elvira Hopson, and several
children blessed their union.
He was a man of wealth, owning a large cotton plantation near Friar’s
Point, Mississippi, to which he made annual trips on horseback, usually
at crop selling time, and returning with vast sums of money.
Not caring to risk the health of his large and happy family, in the
malarial districts of the Mississippi swamps, he made his home at Port
Royal.
The original Norfleet residence, with few exceptions, remains intact,
and is at present owned and occupied by Mr. W. E. Alley, a prosperous
farmer, and substantial citizen of Montgomery county.
For the benefit of his family, Dr. Norfleet kept a number of efficient
servants.
Among them two very refined house maids, Kitty Hopson and Adeline
Norfleet; Frank, the carriage driver; Mary, the cook, and Louis, a
roustabout.
Of these, only one survive, Adeline, who in her old age, finds no
greater pleasure than in talking of her white people.
Although the Norfleets were the acknowledged aristocrats of the
country, they were also benevolent to a marked degree.
Apropos of their liberality, I deem it not amiss to mention the case
of Ed and Fronie Hawkins, a very unique, feeble minded couple of white
people, who lived in a small one-room log cabin, near Turnersville, in
Robertson county, and subsisted mainly on charity.
Mr. Hawkins, familiarly known as “Old Ed,” was a tall, lank figure,
with a shock of long sandy hair, that hung in strings around his neck,
while his sallow complexion and deep set small blue eyes, completed
the make-up of an unattractive personality.
Fronie, his dumpy dame, in point of height, measured very little above
her husband’s slender waist. She had small brown eyes, fair complexion,
and an abundant suit of coarse red hair, which she wore in a massive
club, or coil, at the nape of her neck, held in place by a rusty horn
tuck comb.
About three times a year, they made begging trips to Port Royal, Dr.
Norfleet’s home being their objective point.
Fronie would generally start a few days in advance of her husband, in
order to get her charity donations together.
He would follow later, and help carry them home.
Dr. Norfleet wore white linen suits in summer, and on one occasion,
gave Fronie a second hand suit for Ed.
Dr. Norfleet was tall, and his pants legs were long, so she conceived
the idea of packing her donations in the legs of those he had given
her. She sewed up the legs at the bottom, put a stout loop on the back
of the binding at the top, and hung her improvised receptacle on a hook
behind the office door; everything that was given to her, she dropped
it down the pants legs--sugar, coffee, second-hand clothes, chunks of
meet, etc., all in a jumble.
When they were well nigh full, she began to wish for Mr. Hawkins. He
came at last, and she led him to look behind the door.
He was delighted, and scarcely taking time to rest from his journey of
six miles on a warm day, he placed the well stuffed pants astride his
neck, and struck out up the Nashville road, without even bidding Dr.
Norfleet’s family good bye.
Fronie followed close at his heels, holding by the legs, in her right
hand, a fine fat pair of Muscovy ducks, Mrs. Norfleet had given her. On
passing Mr. William Brown’s residence, just up the road, Mr. Brown’s
son, Robert, happened to be at the front gate; young Robert Bourne had
a keen sense of humor, and their ludicrous appearance threw him into
such a fit of laughter that he rolled over and over on the ground.
But the Hawkins’s kept straight ahead, bound for Turnersville before
sunset, but they were doomed to an unexpected delay.
The ducks grew heavy, and Fronie set them down by the roadside to rest
her tired arm.
It happened that she stopped at the head of the ten-foot deep gully,
just beyond the old Mallory homestead, where the old Harmony Church
road branched off to the right from the main Nashville route. The ducks
set to fluttering, and tumbled down the embankment and into the gully,
breaking the string that held them together. Ed flew into a rage,
because she let them get away, and swore he’d whip her on the spot,
if she did not catch them. She chased them up and down the gully till
she was almost exhausted, when a passing fishing party came to her
assistance.
The late George Washington’s family contributed liberally to the
support of this couple, and in speaking of the Washington home, Fronie
always referred to it as “the fat house,” meaning rich people.
The young people of Port Royal neighborhood, spent many pleasant times
in years gone by, masquerading in comic costumes, as Ed and Fronie
Hawkins.
They were known far and wide, as a very amusing couple, but when old
age came to them, and the liberal friends who had kept “the wolf from
their cabin door” had passed away, it became necessary for them to
be carried to the county poor house, and from there, I’m sure, their
innocent souls went straight to heaven.