A Black Man of the Eighteen Sixties
By William Covert
I SOMETIMES recall the remarkable Christian devotion of a Negro slave who came into our military camp at Old Town Creek, North Carolina, near the close of the Civil War. General Cox's division of the Twenty-third Army Corps was halted a little by the Confederate troops at Old Town as they were advancing up the Cape Fear River toward Wilmington. We moved on to the place in the darkness of the night, and found ourselves in possession of a little grist-mill stocked with corn to be ground into meal. The writer was detailed to find the miller to set the mill going so as to provide fresh meal for the hungry soldiers. The miller was found; and after grinding the meal, he came into camp and remained with our company for a time. He had heard of the Yankee soldiers, but he did not even know that they were near his place. It was very difficult to convince him that he was in their camp, because the appearance of our men did not agree with what he had been told about them. He actually thought that he was doing service for and was in the camp of the Confederate soldiers. His master had fled, but before going, had made him believe that if the Yankee soldiers came they would do him bodily harm. So when he was convinced that he was in their midst, he, in his simplicity, began to plead that they would spare his life. His entreaty was, "Please do not kill me." Of course he was treated kindly, and soon came to know that he was in the hands of good friends. Then he told us of his calling and work in the gospel ministry. Besides caring for the little corn grist-mill, he preached for the slaves of the place. And a more devoted man in this blessed calling I never met. His heart seemed set on Jesus and His love, and his conscience was tender, and his exhortations to the soldiers were pointed and good. He could talk of the Scriptures with a fair understanding of their requirements, and the whole tenor of his life comported with their teachings. He reproved the soldiers for their profanity in such a way that his stay in our company had a salutary influence over the men. I do not now remember his name, but I do hope to meet, in the kingdom of God, the man who was the black miller and Baptist preacher at Old Town, North Carolina, in 1865. WILLIAM COVERT.