CHAPTER XII.

NEGRO WOMEN AND THEIR WORK.
pg. 297

     DURING his travels in Africa Mungo Park, the famous African explorer, came one day to Sego, the capitol of the Kingdome of Bambara, which is situated on the Niger River.  Information was carried to the king of that country that a white man wished to see him.  The king in reply sent one of his men to inform the explorer that he could not be received until his business was known.  He was advised to find lodgings for the night in a neighbouring village.  To his great surprise, Park found no one would admit him.  After searching for a long time he finally sat down, worn out, under the shade of a tree, where he remained for a whole day without food.
     As night came on the wind arose and a heavy storm threatened.  To the other dangers of the situation was added the fear that he might be devoured by the numerous wild beasts that roamed about in that region.  Just as he was preparing to climb into a tree, however, a woman passed by and perceiving his weary and dejected appearance, spoke to him and inquired why he was there.  On receiving his

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explanation she told him to follow her to her house.  Here he was given food and a mat was spread on which he lay down to sleep.  The women of the house were meanwhile employed in spinning cotton and, as they worked, they lightened and enlivened their labour by songs.  One of these songs was extemporised in honour of their guest.  Park described this music, in the story of his travels, as sweet and plaintive.  The words were:

The wind roared and the rain fell.
The poor white man, faint and weary,
Came and sat under our tree;
He has no mother to bring him milk,
No wife to grind his corn.
Let us pity the white man,
No mother has he to bring him milk,
No wife to grind his corn.

     This incident has been often quoted.  Sometimes it has been referred to as an illustration of the easy and spontaneous way in which the African people are accustomed to express their thoughts and feelings in song.  To my mind, however, it seems rather an illustration of that natural human sympathy which is characteristic of the women of most races, but particularly so of Negro women, whether in Africa or elsewhere.
     Whatever may be said about the thoughts and the failings of Negro women, no one, so far as I know, has ever denied to them this gift of sympathy.  Most people have recognised this quality but nowhere is the kindness and helpfulness of Negro women

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better known and appreciated than among the white people of the Southern states. The simple-hearted devotion of the Negro slave women to their masters and their masters' families was one of the redeeming features of Negro slavery in the South.
     The devotion the slaves sometimes showed to their masters did not fail to inspire a corresponding affection in the members of the master's family.  I know of scarcely anything more beautiful than the tributes I have heard Southern white men and women pay to those old coloured mammies, who nursed them as children, shared their childish joys and sorrows and clung to them through life with an affection that no change of time or of circumstance could diminish.
     Southern literature is full of stories which illustrate the strength of this mutual affection, which bound the young master or the young mistress to his or her faithful Negro servant.  When all other ties which bound the races together in the South have snapped assunder, this tie of affection has held fast.
     I remember reading a few years ago, shortly after the Altanta riots, a story written by a young Southern white man entitled, "Ma'm Linda."   The central theme of this story was the affection of a young white woman for her coloured "mammy."  This affection was strong enough to resist and finally overcome attachments that divided the community in which these two persons are supposed to have lived.  It put

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an end to an exciting episode which would other wise have terminated in a most hideous mob murder.
     As an illustration of this devotion of some of the slave women to their masters and masters' families, the following incident, which took place in Washington, District of Columbia, in 1833, is in many ways typical.  A Southern gentleman and his family were stopping at a Washington hotel when he began a conversation with some persons who were opposed to slavery.  After they had discussed the question at some length the slave-holder said to them: "Here is our servant; she is a slave, and you are at liberty to persuade her to remain here if you can."  The anti-slavery people sought out the young woman and informed her that having been brought by her master into the free states she was, by the law of the land, a free woman.
     The young woman promptly replied that this could not be so.  They talked the matter over thoroughly and made every effort to show her that she was free under the existing laws, but she shook her head, saying that a legal decision did not touch her case, "for you see," she said, "I promised my mistress that I would go back with the children."
     An attempt was then made to induce her to break her promise.  It was pointed out that a promise made while she was not free could not be binding, but the young slave woman refused to look upon it in that light.

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     At length one of the abolitionists said:  "It is possible that you do not wish to be free?"
     "Was there ever a slave that did not wish to be free?" the girl replied.  "I long for liberty.  I will get out of slavery, if I can, the day after I return, but I must go back because I have promised."
     Among those slaves who became free, either through the kindness of their owners or as a result of their own individual efforts, the number of Negro women is large.  Olmstead, in his "Cotton Kingdom," records an instance of a woman who had obtained her freedom in Virginia, but, being in fear that she might be reënslaved, fled to Philadelphia.  Here for a time she almost starved.  One day a little girl, who saw her begging on the streets, told her that her mother wanted some one to do her washing.  When the poor woman applied for this work she was at first refused, because her prospective employer was afraid to trust valuable clothing to so unfortunate appearing a creature. The coloured woman begged earnestly for the chance to do this work and finally suggested, if there was any fear she would not return the clothes, that she should be locked in a room until the work was completed.  She pleaded so earnestly that she was allowed to do this work, and in this way began her life in Philadelphia.
     Ten years afterward a white man from her old home in Virginia happened to be in the city.  The

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