p. 99 | The Generous Slave by Sol.

The Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Mich. · Feb 23, 1864

The Generous Slave.

By Sol.

A FEW weeks since, one of the most able and useful chaplains of the army spent a few days in Washington, and while there, was invited to preach in one of the colored churches of the city.

He had a large and interesting congregation, and he took occasion to urge upon his hearers, that inasmuch as their position in our country had greatly changed in the last few months, as they had been scorned and oppressed, but were now the hope of the country, to act worthy of the time, and as those who had a great future. He said that if they were meek and patient under injuries they would overcome the malice of their enemies; that if they were temperate, industrious, and honest, they would effectually silence all those who now clamored against them as unworthy of freedom; that he knew of instances in which colored men and women had by courage, kindness and generosity, won for themselves the esteem and gratitude of a multitude of officers and soldiers of our army.

'After,' said he, 'one of the battles of the war in northeastern Virginia, many wounded confederate soldiers were brought into the town of Winchester, and placed in the churches, school-rooms, and court-houses side by side.

'The ladies of that place brought into the hospitals many things to nourish and tempt the languid appetites of the sufferers, but they gave every thing to the confederate soldiers and passed our men by as unworthy of their sympathy and notice. One day a lady who had been a constant visitor, brought in some fragrant tea. She went from one couch to another of her friends, but passed all others unpitied. One of our wounded men who was very ill, thought that a cup of this tea might help him. He begged me to ask the lady for a taste of it. I went to her in a manner that I think could not be offensive, told her the soldier's request. 'No,' said she and her face blushed with anger; 'not a drop; all this tea is for our suffering martyrs.' 'Madam,' I said, 'I looked for no other answer, and I beg your pardon for hoping for a moment that a drop of human kindness was left in your heart.'

'Before my anger had subsided, I saw approaching the surgeon and myself, an aged colored woman. She was lame and staggered under the weight of two large baskets which she bore on her arms and behind her followed a black boy bearing another.

'When she came up to us, she set down her burdens and said, 'Master, I am a slave, my husband is a slave, and my children are slaves, and will you accept these things from a poor slave woman for the wounded men here. I do not want money, no, master, I could never look you in the face, if I took your money.' She opened her basket and took up a roll of stockings and said, 'Master, months ago I knew this war was coming; and when all were asleep in my cabin, I knit these that some poor sufferer might be warmed, and will you allow a poor slave to give them to these men.' Then taking up some papers of tea she said, 'This tea I earned over the wash-tub. I would not drink it myself, for I knew the day was not far off when some weak and fainting men would want it more than I did, and now will you permit me to give it to you?' And here continued she, 'is some butter, I know it is clean and sweet, and may tempt some of these poor sufferers to eat; it may remind them of the butter of their mother's table, and will you give me the privilege of placing it in your hands for them?' And taking up linen napkins, handkerchiefs and lint she said, 'Master I have stolen nothing; these old hands have earned over the wash-tub and by house-cleaning all,—will you permit me to give them all and have the comfort of knowing that I have done something for those who are far from home, amongst strangers and suffering of want.'

'As she talked she became more moved and tears rolled over her face and fell on her hands as she lifted to me the treasures of her basket, and I never can forget the earnestness and humility of her manner when she said, 'permit me permit me.'

'Oh yes Aunty,' I said 'we will not only receive them, but, pay you for all you have brought.' 'O, master!' said she, 'do not so despise me as to offer me money; I crave the pleasure of giving these little things. Oh I am sorry I have so little! If I had a thousand basketfuls of all good things I should give them all.' Our sick and wounded men looked with wonder and admiration on the woman, and soon a hundred cried out, 'Aunty, God bless you! you are the only white woman we have seen in Winchester.' 'Now said the chaplain do you think those soldiers ever forgot that woman and thought her skin was darker than that of their sisters and mothers? Will they not ever remember her as a noble, true friend in need? And will not every one of them be kinder to every daughter of Africa who comes in his way because one of them pitied and helped him when he was a stranger and half dead. I do not know what became of that generous woman. She may be still a slave; but certain I am that in long years to come, when the soldiers of the army meet in peaceful homes, we will talk of her and ask God to bless her. Go and do as she did; be gentle, do good unto all men, even your enemies; become not vain and proud, spending all you make in dress and pleasure, but deny yourself to do good, and soon those who despise will become your friends.'

As the chaplain was thus preaching, he saw in the midst of the congregation, a woman whose face glowed and was wet with tears. And when he had ended the service, this person came up and spoke to him and said, 'Master, I am the woman you spoke of this morning, I bless the good Lord I am free, and my husband and two children are all free and here in Washington, and we are now happier than ever in our lives.'

And many gathered around to thank her again for her charity to the wounded soldiers. And the chaplain rejoiced to meet in freedom one who had shown herself to be so generous a woman and true a Christian.—Sol.