hite. On every plantation and
in nearly every Christian home throughout the South, without regard to
religious affiliations, the negroes were taught in Sunday-schools by the
mistress and her older daughters. Many of the large planters employed a
regular chaplain for their negroes. I knew intimately the Rev. George
Patterson, who began his ministry in East Carolina as chaplain to the
negroes belonging to Mr. Josiah Collins.

Just a word or two here about slavery, this suggestion coming to me from
a Northern clergyman, who has for the past twenty years been doing noble
work for the negroes in North Carolina. Slavery with all its horrors was
over-ruled by God to be a great missionary institution. The savage black
men were brought into the closest contact with the highest Anglo-Saxon
civilization, the best negroes coming into personal touch with the best
whites as servant and master. They were taught Christ by as fair
representatives of his religion as the world has ever seen. The negroes
were brought under law, and were forced to see the blessings of order
and justice. As Booker Washington also admits, they were taught the
value of work and its necessity. So, through slavery the negro in the
United States to-day stands far above the wild and ignorant African who
now inhabits the land from which he came. When you read Uncle Tom's
Cabin, remember that Uncle Tom was a product of slavery and that the
fairer side as presented by Mrs. Stowe was the most common in the whole
South. Do not misunderstand me; together with a large majority of the
thinking white men of the South, I rejoice that slavery is a thing of
the past; I would not have it again if I could; I see its frightful
evils; but we must all acknowledge that slavery has been a potent factor
for good in the evolution of the negro in the United States.

The great Civil War swept over the South; and the negro was made a free
man. How did this change affect his religious position? The negroes as a
rule left their old masters, to try their wings and see if they were
really free. One sad incident in my early childhood comes back to me
now. I was awakened one night by the uncontrollable weeping of my
mother. "Mother, Mother," I cried, "what is the matter!" "Hagar"--my
dear black mammy--"is going to leave us." I broke out with her in still
louder lamentations. Mammy came in; and then her tears fell with ours.
"You aren't going to leave me, Mammy?" "Yes, chile, I'm bound to go."