t was popular to
plead the cause of the slave and demand the rights of the free Negro,
the Church was the last organization in the country to take a position
on the question; and even then, her "moderation was known to all men."

If the Negro had suffered from neglect only, had been left to solve
the riddle of his anomalous existence without further embarrassment,
it would have been well. But no, it was not so. Studied insolence
jostled Colored men and women from the streets of the larger cities;
mobocratic violence broke up assemblages and churches of Colored
people; and malice sought them in the quiet of their homes--outraged
and slew them in cold blood. Thus with the past as a haunting, bitter
recollection, the present filled with fear and disaster, and the
future a shapeless horror, think ye life was sweet to the Negro?
Bitter? Bitter as death? Ay, bitter as hell!

Driven down from the lofty summit of laudable ambitions into the
sultry plains of domestic drudgery and menial toil, nearly every ray
of hope had perished upon the strained vision of the Negro. The only
thing young Colored men could aspire to was the position of a waiter,
the avocation of a barber, the place of a house-servant or groom, and
teach or preach to their own people with little or no qualifications.
Denied the opportunities and facilities of securing an education, they
were upbraided by the press and pulpit, in private gatherings and
public meetings, for their ignorance, which was enforced by a narrow
and contracted public prejudice.

But "none of these things moved" the Negro. Undismayed he bowed to his
herculean task with a complacency and courage worthy of any race or
age of the world's history. The small encouragement that came to him
from the conscientious minority of white men and women was as
refreshing as the cool ocean breeze at even-tide to the feverish brow
of a travel-soiled pilgrim. The Negro found it necessary to exert
_himself_, to lift himself out of his social, mental, and political
dilemma by the straps of his boots. Colored men turned their attention
to the education of themselves and their children. Schools were begun,
churches organized, and work of general improvement and self-culture
entered into with alacrity and enthusiasm. Boston had among its
teachers the scholarly Thomas Paul; among its clergymen Leonard A.
Grimes and John T. Raymond; among its lawyers Robert Morris and E. G.
Walker; among its business men J. B. Sm