CHAPTER II.

A BAPTISMAL SCENE.

About a year before this prize fight the "kernel," as his slaves called Colonel R., obtained a furlough to visit his home and plantation. He expressed himself to Simon as being highly pleased at the manner in which he conducted plantation affairs, saying the farm books were neatly kept, stock sleek and fat, cribs full of corn, smoke-houses full of meat, ditches cleaned out, briars kept out of the fence corners--in fact, he saw no difference in his (Simon's) or the overseer's administration, and that he hoped that the work would move along as it was being done at that time. Simon was glad to receive this commendation from his master, and promised that it would be his earnest endeavor to still merit the Colonel's approval.

Colonel R. had been in the army long enough to know that in the end the Confederacy would be beaten; he reasoned that the Southern States were hemmed in by a blockade that no ship of the Confederacy could break, and that they had to depend upon home resources for men, munitions and supplies, while the United States had not only themselves, but the whole world to draw upon. This was good, philosophic reasoning, and he determined to prepare for the collapse, which would be only a question of time. As there was no chance to sell cotton (there being an accumulation of two crops of the fleecy staple, amounting to about a thousand bales, on his place), he gave Simon explicit instructions to hide this cotton if there was any danger of the Federal army raiding that section of the State. He also intrusted to his keeping a large amount of gold which he had hoarded. He told Simon that if he were faithful to the trust he would reward him liberally--that if the Confederacy won he would give him his freedom and $10,000 in gold; and that if the United States won he would still give him the gold named above and make him superintendent on his farm at an annual salary of $2,000. As the sequel will show this compact was faithfully complied with by both parties, and for so doing Simon came near losing his life.

Colonel R. assembled all of his slaves and bade them an affectionate adieu, telling them to be faithful, industrious and diligent, and to be submissive to Simon's authority, and that if he was killed in battle, Mrs. R., his wife and their mistress, would have general supervision of the plantation. He was soon at the front and resumed command of his regiment. Between now and the close of hostilities it will be my endeavor to describe some of the scenes that were enacted on the Colonel's plantation. Elsie was still the belle and had suitors galore.

At every frolic she was the "cynosure of all eyes," the observed of all observers. She never wanted for a partner in the dance or play. Brutus and Caesar were still rivals and bitter enemies on her account, and at one of the plantation frolics they got into a fight, and Caesar was killed by Brutus driving an axe into Caesar's brain. Brutus fled and was a "runaway nigger" until the close of the war.

Simon had a pack of negro dogs which were soon in full cry on Brutus' track, who ran to the river and went up a tree bending over the water. The dogs were soon there and "treed" Brutus. Simon shortly arrived on the spot, thinking the dogs had Brutus up the tree. The dogs were there, the tree was there, and no doubt Brutus went up the tree, but he was not there. Simon gave up the chase, declaring that a negro who was sharp and strategical enough to climb a tree, and then jump into the river and swim across, would no doubt outwit the dogs, were he to take them across and continue the pursuit.

Elsie was thus relieved of her two most importunate and troublesome suitors--one dead and the other in the woods.

A negro is intensely religious, regardless of honesty and integrity; he will attend night services, shout, sing and pray, and then return home by some hen-roost and lift off a chanticleer which has been doing business at that stand for a half dozen years with as much nonchalance as if he, "Cuffee," were eating his dinner or taking a drink of water.

On this plantation there were two rival churches, Methodist and Baptist, and I would say here that, as a rule, Southern negroes belong to one or the other of these two large branches of the Christian Church.

During the summer these two churches held revival (and rival) services every night and Sunday for three or four weeks, at which there was a great awakening and a large ingathering of souls to the flock. For some reason it is thought the Methodist "nigger" can shout, sing and pray louder than his Baptist brother, while the latter can head him off in drinking whisky, which is counteracted by the Methodist brother's love for chickens and turkeys and their proclivities for lifting them off the roost.

At one of these night services, when everybody was happy, shouting, singing and praying, and the house was in an uproar and it seemed that pandemonium had turned loose, a large lighted lamp full of oil was turned over and exploded.

Negroes piled out of the windows and doors by the dozens. Some of the cooler heads pulled off their coats, and wrapping up the burning negroes, finally subdued the flames. Order was finally restored and all assembled again in the house. The pastor in charge then arose and said: "My bredderin an' sisterin, we is all run a narrer resk in bein' burn to deth, an' it shood be a terrible warnin' tu perpare for de burnin' dat awaits de ongodly, an' ef de richous am skasely saved whar shall de sinner an' ongodly appeer? Brudder Sam, you is de wus burnt nigger hear tu-nite, an' ef you keep on stealin' chickens you is gwine to go whar de wurm dieth not an' de fire is not squinched."

At this eloquent appeal on the part of the pastor moans and groans were heard all over the house, that have to be heard to be realized. Old Sister Ann, a two-hundred-and-fifty-pounder, got happy and began throwing her hands in the air, and popping them together, shouting, "Glory! Glory!" and started towards the pastor, saying, "Brudder Zeke, I'm so happy I wants tu hug you!" whereupon she gathered him, a weak man, in her herculean arms. He began to struggle to free himself from her vise-like grasp--she was about to squeeze the life out of him--but in vain! He then shouted for some one to "take her off! take her off!" Several of the brethren interfered and finally released the struggling pastor. After which he said: "Sister Ann, de wedder is tu hot, soap is tu scase, an' you is tu big an' fat tu git close to ennybody; so pleas kep yo' distunce."

Brother "Zeke," fearing a similar experience, announced services for the following night, and immediately dismissed the congregation. On the last Sunday of the meeting baptismal services were held at both churches, the Baptists assembling at the river to perform the rite by immersion, and the Methodists at their church to perform it by sprinkling or pouring.

At the latter church the pastor requested all the converts, which were fifty or sixty, to come forward to receive baptism, whereupon about a dozen responded. He stated that only about a fourth of the converts had come forward, and that if the rest were in the house they will now come forward and be baptized.

The preacher replied that he was very liberal in his views, and that he would baptize by sprinkling, pouring or immersion, and for each applicant to designate the mode, and it would be carried out. Those who had not come forward said that they "wanted tu go under de water." He said they would go to the river just as soon as he got through with those present. Whereupon those who had come forward told the preacher that as he had to go into the water they would be immersed also. The minister then announced for the congregation to assemble on the river to witness the baptisms. The Baptist and Methodist preachers reached the water about the same time, and after conferring with one another, agreed that the order would be for one minister to baptize one of his flock and the other one, and so on, alternately, until they were through. This took some time, as each had about fifty apiece to baptize. There was shouting and rejoicing during this baptismal scene. There were probably two thousand negroes present, those on adjoining plantations also being present. It is a fact that baptism in water will draw almost as large a crowd as a circus.

With the exception of shouting on the part of converts there was no noise or disturbance, and all went well until the last, the baptism of a large, fleshy sister, who, as she arose from the water clapped her hands and shouted: "I see my Jesus!" When she said this a negro, who had climbed into a willow tree leaning over the water, replied: "Yu lie, yu hypercritical old huzzie; tain't nuthin' but a snappin' mud turcle yu seed, an' hit's a pity he hadn't kotched yu by de nose an' drowned yu, so as yu would not tell lies enny more on 'spectable niggers." As he said this the tree broke, precipitating him into water twenty feet deep, and as he could not swim he went straight to the bottom. Both of the parsons were silent spectators of this last act, and were making for the shore as the congregation sang "Pull for the Shore." They had been fishers, as it were, of souls; now that an opportunity presented itself, they in reality would have to be fishers of men--at least one would have to be. The Methodist, thinking the Baptist more used to water than he, waited for the Baptist to strike out for the drowning man, and the Baptist did the same for the Methodist. The latter, seeing that the man would drown if no assistance were rendered, and being the nearest, swam to him. The drowning man grabbed him around the waist and both sank. The Baptist parson, being in the water, thought he was duty bound to render assistance, and swam to the scene just as they arose, when the Methodist grabbed the Baptist around the waist, and all three went under together. Things were getting serious, as it would be the third time the man went under. One of the men on shore succeeded in time to catch the first man, who was sinking the last time, by the hair, and by superhuman jerks released him from the parson and succeeded in carrying him to the shore. As this was being done another negro on shore swam and caught the exhausted Methodist parson by the wool, jerking him off from the Baptist, and carried him to shore. Another wicked negro on the bank shouted: "Fair play; I'll be darned if the Baptis' shell drown," and made for him, catching him by his cue and landing him safely on land. The congregation could have consistently sung, during the last three acts, "Pull for the Shore." As the submerged negroes were resting one skeptical darky shouted out, "You's all Baptis' now." Thus ended this baptismal and almost tragical scene.