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Raymond Garfield Dandridge, "Penciled Poems" (Full Text, 1917)
12023-06-08T08:00:55-04:00Amardeep Singhc185e79df2fca428277052b90841c4aba30044e12131plain2023-06-08T08:00:55-04:00Amardeep Singhc185e79df2fca428277052b90841c4aba30044e1Penciled Poems Ray G. Dandridge Cincinnati, Ohio 1917
DEDICATED TO MY MOTHER MRS. E. C. DANDRIDGE
THE FAIREST GEMS
Men often long for gems so rare, And sometimes for a maiden fair ; Some crave wealth to give them power, So they may be called— "men of the hour" ; But while we strive to reach so high, We find the Gems we cannot buy— The fairest ones on God's green earth, The precious mothers that gave us birth.
To Whom It May Concern —
Having been confined to bed since July 4, 1912, Raymond Garfield Dandridge is not only an invalid, but also a bound-down "shut in," unable to use either limb or right arm.
In spite of this great handicap, he penciled these verses, remained optimistic, and says, " 'Tis good to make the best of it."
POWELL & WHITE, Cincinnati, December 1, 1917 Printers.
THE DUMB SOLDIER
With flying rein, a frothing steed, Bearing an empty saddle ; Dashed to and fro along the line, Amid the din of battle. The hand that guided him for years, That stroked his flowing mane ; Still clutching to a saber hilt, Lies cold out on the plain. A roaring hell on every side. Like hail, the shot fell round ; A blinding flash, a piercing neigh ; Ned trembled ; then went down. The bugle sounded loud, "The Charge !" He raised his gallant head, Then laid it on the sod again, Another soldier — dead.
All earth is a Circus Ground, The sky above a tent. And everyone a part must play While Life is being spent. A vast host make the audience, Who laugh at the merry rounds ; While many are Life's Acrobats, Life's Ring masters, and Clowns. Life's Circus has the widest scope Of freaks, at her command ; She has the greatest animals. She has the largest band. All Carnivals and Pageants grand. When they have been arrayed, Must bare' their heads in reverence to Life's Circus, on parade.
Why's you tryin' to kick ole Robah, Whut on earf he done to you ? Bettah thank yore stars you mist him Else yo'd had to kick me, too ; He cain't talk to maik etscuses, But, I's heah to taik his part; An' yore pickin' on a po' dawg Sho's de meanness in yore heart.
Shet yore mouf ! don' you dar say it !
Yo's ez good a man ez me ;
Yo's a ha'f raised, uncouf buzzard,
Jes ni' nothin' ez kin be.
I know well I stoops to fight you,
But, it's hi' ni' stoopin' time.
Wen a lo' down, ornree scoundell.
Tries to kick dat dawg ob mine.
Dat houn' pup jes big an' playful He thought you wor playful, too, But, w'en you com'enst yore kickin' Thin's tuk on a difTern' view. You sho's plain yo's out fo' battle, 'Speck it won't be hard to fine, Hebbin knows yo's bidin' fo' it W'en you kick dat dawg ob mine.
Whuts you say? Yo's onlee funin'; Ef you wuz, I's mighty glad ; Kaze I lub to lub mah neighbah. An' Stan' 'hole heaps fo' I's mad. Lets shake ban's lak good ole Buddies, Evahthin' done turnt out fine ; We'll all three go home togeddah, You, me, an' dat dawg ob mine.
Aftah we done ett our suppah, Tipped off wid a tater pie ; Talk, it drifted sorta sad lak, 'Bout Heah Aftah, bye an' bye ; Remuss sed, "we'd know each uddah, In dat Meetin' House, sublime" ; An' I growed rail melonkolee, Thinkin' 'bout dat dawg ob mine.
Wondah, ef I ast St. Peter VVoulden he let Robah in? Ef I 'splain dat he's bin hones' An' his heart am free frum sin ; Wondah, how he'd look aflyin' Thoo dem Holy Realms, divine ; An, 'ef dar's a Golden Kennel Waitin' fo' dat dawg ob mine?
When you were but a little child With many faults to cover ; Who hid them all behind her smile? Your mother, your dear mother.
When out in this cold world, unkind. You fall, can go no further; Who picks you up, shakes off the grime? Your mother, your dear mother.
Proud sister turns her back, 'tis true. So does your dad and brother ; Who never fails to welcome you? Your mother, your dear mother.
Your mother's praise forever sing! You'll never have another ; They duplicate most everything, Except your darling mother.
There's gladness in the sunshine, There's gladness in the rain ; From yonder tree the little bird Chirps out a glad refrain.
All things of earth know happiness, There's nothing always sad. And everything contains some good. There's naught that's wholly bad.
Try taking good from goodness. Take gladness from the glad, And ere long you will find yourself Taking much good from bad.
Kin dat be Miss Mandy Jenkins Cumin' yondah thoo de gate? Might ni white ez airy white chile. Hair alayin' slick an' straight ; Wen I lef her, she wuz broun skin, An' her haid wuz flufee, too; Mebbe it's mah eyes dat's failin' She nufif Mandy, am dat you?
You sho walks jes lak Miss Mandy, An' you jes Miss Mandy's size, An' yore figgah 'zembles Mandy's, Dem eyes dance lak Mandy's eyes; Bust em back an' show dem ivories! You kaint fool me ef you smile ; Neb your mind, dem feets betrays you. Cose you is mah angel chile.
Mandy, darlm', whut's de mattah? Honey baby, don' you cry ; Did whut I sed hu't yore feelin's? Diden aim to ; hope to die. Bless yore heart, I's onlee kidin' 'Bout yore 'plexshun, an' yore hair Be ez striped ez de rain bo'. So it's you, dat's all I care.
Say dem words agin. Bill Bundyl Say you lub me, kaze it's me ! Seems lak dey put new life in me, Maik mah heart beat fas' an' free. I etniits et furst you peeved nre, I wuz so', an' so' fo' true, Kaze I spent mah dollah, six bits, Beautifyin', jes' fo' you.
But, it's worth all dat I spended. It's worth mo' to heah dem words, Fo' dey's much mo' sweetah music Dan de chune ob hummin' birds ; You lub Mandy, kaze it's Mandy ! Week days, an' a Sunday, too; Well, den listen 'till I tells you How much Mandy thinks ob you.
Billie, I jes lubs an' lubs you !
Yo 's so dififern' frum de res'.
An' dar's somethin' 'bout you draws me.
It's yore winnin' ways, I guess.
All de day long yo's befo' me,
An' et night you hant mah dreams,
Wild erbout you dressed on Sunday,
Crazy 'bout you in yore geans !
ANTE BELLUM SYMPHONY
Stop dat racket! Whar's yore mannahs?
don' you heah dat minor part? Seems jes lak deni kords am bindin'
blesset sweetness to mah heart ; Watch old Jerry press de cat gut, Goo' Lawd !
how he draw dat bo ; Wondah do de harps in Glorj^, play
dat sweet, an' sof, and lo'?
Heah dat 'lodious mouf orgin, ain" it sweetnin?
tell de truf ! An' it sets de 'hole place ringin'
frum de callah to de roof ; Rufus Simpson knows his banjo, knows
it ebah string an' fret ; Maiks it almos' beg fo' mercy,
maiks it pant, an' bio', an' sweat.
You kin talk erbout Gran' Opra, 'bout de
concerts, an' de birds ; But, w'en Carolina warbles; 'tain't
no 'spressin' it in words ; She kin sing de "Swanee Ribbah," till
you see it flowin' by. An' she sings "Asleep in Jesus," till
de tears stan' in yore eye.
Hopes dat you ain' 'fended Sambo, kase I
lef you to de las', Wid yore rattlin' bones, an' tambo, ain'
no way to let you pass ; Man ! you adds de rip, de tip, tip !
an' you ancer fo' de drums. Why, dey c'u'den do widout you,
w'en de Gran' Finale cums.
BOOKER T. WASHINGTON
Alas, the willing hands are stilled In death ; their toil on earth is done. From plow to pen a task they filled, Well earned repose, they won. Long years he struggled uphill amid strife, On, on to the wave crest of fame, And stood at the Zenith of useful life, When the Grim Reaper's summons came. The messenger found him at work in the field Of progress, where long he had lead. With harvest time nigh, and a bountiful yield, They whispered — he is dead.
In dead hours of night when my oil burns low,
Jesus will pilot me ; When the thunder peals and the wild winds blow,
Jesus will pilot me ; All through the night and all through the day, No matter where I may be. He Tightens my footsteps, lest I stray away,
Jesus will pilot me.
When lost on the deep and the waves run high,
Jesus will pilot me; My compass is broken ; my mast goes by ;
Jesus will pilot me ; When it seems my bark to the bottom must go And I shall be lost in the sea, I placed my faith in Him, for I know
Jesus will pilot me.
THE DOWN ROAD
Down the road going down, a man stumbles on,
Lax of spirit and sadly dismayed. No one to console him ; 'ere long he is gone ;
In the shadow he lurks half afraid. The future holds naught, the past barren lies,
Sobs take his breath, tears dim his eyes ; He stumbles, he falls; can he do otherwise.
On the down, down road?
If you see a man on the down, down road,
Try to brace him with kindness and cheer ; Your smile and your presence will lighten his load,
It may aid him to know you are near. It is easy to smile when the outlook is bright.
It is easy to run when the impost is light, But we find it hard to do just what is right.
On the down, down road.
The same circumstance that is keeping him down,
Might have put you or me in his place ; Throw out the "Life Line," don't let him drown !
Give him a chance to retrace. The man worth while does not criticize,
There is hope for the one underneath, 'till he dies Lend him a hand and perhaps he will rise,
From the down, down road.
Forward, every son and daughter Born of Ethiopia's hue ! Band yourselves in mighty union, To be or not, depends on you. Harken to the call of "Freedom !" Marshal in "Ambition's' tread. Let no crafty foe retard you 'Till you're marching at the head !
Set your "Goal Post" in the "Zenith," Seek the shining- spots on high, Swear to be no other's bondman, Ere you cringe — resolve to die. Crown each moment with your effort, From the dawn to setting sun, Every one must do his duty Ere the "Victory" is won !
THE BEST OF IT
When oppressed on every side. Or caught in the receding tide, Or dashed along, to who knows where ; With naught in sight but blank despair. When sorrow's shadow hovers round, There is no sunshine to be found ; Complaining does not help a bit. Try hard to make the best of it !
When everything piles up on you, Your health is gone, your money too ; The undercurrent drags you down. No help is nigh, seems you must drown. Those who promised to be true. When trouble came, deserted you ; All else has fled, cling to your grit — You have to make the best of it.
Lo! at last the dark clouds sever, No good or bad can live forever ; See your horizon clear again. And all the brighter since the rain ; While good fortune smiles on you, Be honest, upright, staunch and true, And to your fellow-men admit 'Tis good to make the best of it.
Lavvd, Howdy boy ! whar hab you bin ? Goo'ness ! but yo's lookin' thin, An' it's bin two yeah or mo' Since you darked yore mammie's do'. Now, yo's done cum back to me, Stranded, huntin' sympathee; Hongree, ragged, tired an' busted, Heavy hearted, plum' disgusted.
Wen you lef yore deares' fren', Diden I, diden I tole you den, Dat you nevah fine anuddah, Stick clos' to you lak yore muddah? Ain' I sed, "dat Sallie Cain Lub you wid her might an' main, Go long wid you all thoo life Han' in han' yore fai'fful wife?"
You sed, "dis ole burg wuz small," Loud, you heard de city's call ; You knowed 'zac'lee whut to do, De city's life ; de life fo' you. Yore hard head done tuk you away. Tired feets brung you back to-day, 'Spect now yo'U be satisfied Right heah on de countree side.
Ain' you sed, "dat yo'd return Totin money nuff to burn?" An' all yo's brung is baggin' knees. An' a fringe on yore coat sleeves. Dat dar looseness roun' yore wais', An' dem hollahs in yore face, Don' sho' no prosperitee Les' de sign's deceivin' me.
Mebbe you foun' out by now Dat dar's pleasure hine de plow, Lis'nin' to de Jinnee squeal, While you harrah up de feil'. Whut's it mattah 'bout yore ban's, Ef yore heart meets all deman's, An' yore conscience clear an' bright, Lets you sleep in peace et night?
Sail's still got her maiden name, Talks heaps ob you jes de same, Turnt down Lafe, an' Rastus, too ; Satisfied to wait on you. Gals lak Sail am hard to fine, Nowdays, lub ain' ha'f so bline ; Bettah lead her by de han' To de squire, or preachah man.
Cryin' ! is you cryin', son? Cum heah, kiss yore mammie, hon ; Squar' dem shoulders, up yore face ! You ain' done no rail disgrace. Don' you know yore maw lub you Maik no difi^ur whut you do. An' dat "Welcome" on de wall, Means you, sonny, fust ob all?
If the generous God of Fortune has delt you a sunny sky. And your lot is free from sorrow, pain and strife, Straightway seek your brother, who the world is passing by ; Tell him there is hope while there is life !
Secretly and tenderly go aid the fault'ring one,
'Twill do you good to see his spirit mount;
The show you make don't demonstrate the good that you have
done ; So often it's the "little things" that count.
Whar's I bin, who wants to know? No one's bissness whar I go ; I's three sebens, an' den sum, Plenty ole to go an' cum Whar I wants, an' when I please, 'Sides you hab a heap ob cheese, Ax me mo' dan mah own kin, None yore bissniss ! whar I bin !
Since you think dat you so smart, I'll jes tell you fo' you start, Ain' no chance to pick frum me, Whar I's bin, or gwine to be; When I leab yo'll know de same Dat you did befo' I came ; Keen on pickin' yo'll git fat Tryin' to figgah whar I's at.
Ef you jes sed, look heah Phil, Ain' you bin down hine de mill, Tryin' to coax de little bones To de seben, leben tones? 'Stead you used yore strategy, Tried to pick it out ob me. Set yore cunnin' little trap. Thought I'd say, I's shootin' crap.
Figgahed you c'u'd git frum me, Dat Sol, an' Gabe, an' Honey Lee, An' me, an' tightwad Henree Lane, Had a little social game ; Thought I'd tell you, Honey Lee Skint de 'hole croud, 'sepin' me, An' dat po' ole Henree Lane, Eben hocked his watch an' chain.
Wise ole fox, jes keep on pickin'. Whut you git frum dis heah chicken Yo'll be welcome to, I guess ; Bettah go try some de res'. Broach ole Sol or Gabriel Jones, He de man dat own de bones; Else, ast Hen or Honey Lee, Dey'll 'fess, long fo' close' mouf me.
Fancy bore me on her wing
Far away ; To fond haunts, where mem'ries cling;
Far away. Loving tenderness and grace Shown on every smiling face, 'Round that dear familiar place,
I could see the shady dell,
Far away ; See my little Pardner, Nell,
Far away; See my sister and my brother. Yes, God bless her, see another. With her arms outstretched, my Mother;
I could hear the church bell ringing
Far away ; Hear the choir sweetly singing,
Far away ; See my final place of rest, 'Mid the ones that I love best, In the church yard on the crest ;
(Apologies to Harry and Murdock Williams)
Dat ar triflin' trash ain' nothin', Wid no sence ob decencee ; Stan' right up befo' de company, Shibbah — Shibbah — Shib — bah— ree ; Why, it kaint keep still a minute, Wiggle, wabble, ebah chance, Nervuss don' begin to 'scribe it. Ax mo' lak "St. Vitus Dance."
Some folks maik it differn colors, Some calls it a differn name, But de chance am slim to fool 3^ou Kaze it all ax jes de same. W'en yo 's ett it, yo 's ez empty Ez you would be, uddahwise ; Less you got some satisfackshun Goin' thoo de exercise.
I sho laks mah pies an' puddin's, Lubs mah custard an' mah float ; Crazy 'bout good cake an' cookies. Ice cream captalvates mah goat. But heah late de "Ji^" is on me, Else I's got some black cat's luck, Kaze mos' ebah whar Is 'vited, Dey han' me dat "tremblin' truck."
A POUND OF LIFE
An ounce of sunshine, one of rain. An ounce of pleasure and of pain, An ounce of faith, an ounce of fears, An ounce of mirth, an ounce of tears. An ounce of love and one of care. An ounce of hope, one of despair. Of laughter, heartache, comfort, strife ; The total sum — "a pound of life."
Awake, my sleeping Ethiopia; Proclaim inheritance thine own ! Fan thy smold'ring embers Into quick'ning flame, to rid the dross And purify thy better self. Ever onward mighty millions Mount, yon elevated plane ! Within thyself, thou hast The power to rise, and risen Stand ! in union firm. Behold! fullfilment of His promise; Thy- "Triumphant Star" ascendeth in the sky. The Ermine, Crown and Sceptre are awaiting Thy "Coronation Day" is drawing nigh.
Evah feal a sicknin' fright. In de wee, wee hours ob night. Wen dar's nary soul in sight, 'Cept de spook, dat's in yore mine?
Evah hab yore heart stop, still, An' yore back bone all a chill, Wen de shadah on de hill, Match de spook dat's in yore mine?
Hab you evah quicked yore pace. Wen you pass a lonesome place, Lak you gwine to run a race, Wid de spook dat's in yore mine?
Den agin, hab you felt brave, Loud to be no mo' a slave. To de daid dat's in de grave. An' de spook, dat's in yore mine?
Jes two strapin' he'lfee boys,
Bob an' me ; Full ob fun an' full ob noise
Bob an' me. Lubed to rip, an' rant, an' play, Always happy, free an' gay. In de mo'nin' ob Life's day
Bob an' me.
On to-geddah, all thoo school.
Bob an' me ; Honah pupils, ez a rule,
Bob an' me. On de fiel', or in a tes', We would do our lebel bes' An' we'd one, two, all de res'.
Bob an' me.
Woulden' cheat an' diden' try.
Bob an' me ; Diden' fight, or argufy.
Bob an' me. Diden' squabble, diden' cuss, Nevah had a single fuss, Dat we diden' patch, 'tween us,
Bob an' me.
We wuz well ni' 'bout eighteen.
Bob an' me ; W'en de furst strife cum between
Bob an' me. To our town dar came a girl, Dat chile's name wuz Mattie Pearl, An' she set us bof a whirl.
Bob an' me.
We thought she wuz nighty sweet,
Bob an' me ; Loud she wuz a dream, complete ;
Bob an' me. In her eyes de lub light shown, Neadah would let her erlone. We bof claimed her fo' our own.
Bob an' me.
Den we called on her one day,
Bob an' me ; Jes to heah whut she'd to say,
Bob an' me. Bof cain't win you, one mus' lose, One mus' hab de "weary blues" ; So we's cum fo' you to choose.
Bob an' me.
On her lips we seed a smile,
Bob an' me ; We bof sed, "God bless dat chile,"
Bob an' me. Seemed her eyes shown lak de sun, We'n she sed, "dar's no harm done, Woulden' hab you, eaddah one,"
Bob an' me.
Time done made us bof ole men,
Bob an' me ; But, we's still each uddah's fren.
Bob an' me. Guess we made a rail good match, 'Ten's our little garden patch, Libes togeddah, an' we batch ;
Bob an' me.
I 'ten'ed a campane speakin'
Et de Town Hall uddah night.
Heard de canadate fo' office,
Frail his 'ponett lef an' right.
He called him a lo' down scoundrel,
A graftah, fraud an' bum ;
Tole us ef he gits elected
Sho nuff hard time boun' to cum.
He sed, "he'd be po' man's fren',
He'l 'up fo' capital, too ;
Loud ef he gits elected
He would put de issue thoo."
Sed, "he would ile de turn pike,
Remodel de ole jail.
Put mo' dough in de envelope,
An' cram de dinnah pail."
"He gits mah vote," I sez, sez I, An' lef dar, satisfied ; But on mah way agoin' home, Annuddah crowd I spied ; Dey had a brass ban' an' red fire, Right in de Market Square ; An' dar de uddah canadate Spoke in de open air.
Wid bof his feets, he jumped right on
De fellah, I jes heard,
An' called him ebahthin' dats bad,
Omittin' nary word.
He sed, "a man dat vote fo' Smif
Be sorry ebah mo',
An' tole us dat he got his start.
By preyin' on de po'."
He sed, "he knuckled to no man, No special set, or creed ; An' felt lak all dem dats oppressed, An' boun' down, should be freed." He promised us prosperity, De mills run day an' night. An' loud he had no aim in life 'Cept treatin' uddahs right.
I walked rail slo' agoin' home,
Tried hard to dope it out ;
Fo' Smif had sho painted Jones black,
Jones blacken Smif, no doubt ;
I went to bed an' slep' on it,
Riz wid de mo'nin' sun.
An' figguhed it jes waistin' time.
To vote fo' eaddah one.
Trus' you wid mah secret, Eli ; ain' nobody else I'd tell ; I's bin ten'in' Publick Night School, de teachah sez, I does
right well ; I finds Fissack Kulcher easy, I kin write, an' I kin draw. But in Grammah I's de biges' lunatic wid in de Law.
Wen we hab a class in Readin', I banks on a rail good mark ; Figgahs ! figgahs calls me Pappy ! an' dey know me in de dark. An' de Spellin's made to order, I's de king ob "Spellin' Bee"; But de pro'nouns an' dem adverbs hab a heap ob fun wid me.
Las' night I sed, " 'twas he an' me," dat's I called mahse'f, me. De teachah sed, dat I wuz wrong; I should sed I, you see; Ob course, I knows de teachah know, so I inten' to try, Aldough it sho hurts me to say, please han' it heah to I.
Stand exalted! martyred Lincoln Example of triumphant march From humble birth, To First Chair of the land. Your deeds, a glowing tribute To success ; honorably achieved. By honest man Despite the overwhelming odds. Your words, like Phoenix, Rise, o'er and o'er again. From embers just their own. And herald wisdom broadcast unto all.
A GHOST STORY
Ve jes pushed back frum our suppah, sweeten taters baked
wid poke, V^'en somebody started beggin', deah Ant Dina, 'tell a joke ; )r, else spin a yarn dat's frightin', or some strange out lan'ish
tale, 3out de mystic spooks an' goblins, or how Jonah fooled de
)en Ant Dina 'tole de chill'en, ef dey gaddah roun' reel clos', he would tell dem de true story, 'bout Lem Lawson an' his
ghost ; .n' she started et de 'ginnin', tole how Lem, a se'fish crank, )iden' trus' a soul aliben, woulden' eben trus' de bank.
[e libed fo' se'f, all by hisse'f, way down in Jackson's hollah, .n' in a ches' beneaf de fio' he hid 'way many a dollah. rill finelee bad men cumed one day an' foun' his hidden' place ; >ey tuk his money, ches, an' all, an' nevah lef no trace^
•at night w'en po' Lem cum home, he brung a kupple mo', o hide 'way ermong de res', in de ches' beneaf de flo' ; ut, w'en he foun' his money gone, he cussed bof lef an' right ; 'is hair turned frum a raven black to snowy white dat night.
He tuk a chair, sot right down, crossways ob de do',
Sleabs rolled up an' on his lap dar lay a fo'tee-fo' ;
He sot thar twenty days an' nights, dat's whut de neighbahs
sed ; An' nevah ett or drunk a drap ; one day dey foun' him, dead.
Aftah while some strangah folks moved on Lawson's place, An' w'en we tole em 'bout Lem's ghost, dey laff right in our
face ; Called us fogey, tole us we bes' keep de 'vise we's gibin', Dat dey had no feah fo' de dead ; an' much less fo' de libin.
Dem sma't Ellicks went to bed, but jes long 'bout midnight, Ole Lem's ghost cum prowlin' 'roun' — it certnee served 'em
right ; An' w'en dat ghost in low tone sed, "you thief, put back mah
De joke tuk on a differn look, an' thin's warn't ha'f so funny.
Aldough dey wuz so all fired brave an' diden' feah de dead, Dey lef mos' ebahthin' behine, dat mo'nin' w'en dey fled ; An' I knows well an' certain' dat dey tuk de furstes' train. An' swo' dey'd nevah sot a foot in dese heah parts again.
Nex' day de Sheriff hanged a sign down in de Market Space, Reward in gold, fo' airy man dat stays on Lawson's place ; Since den a many man hab tried, but nary singel soul Has evah stayed dar all night long, so dey c'u'd get de gold.
In kase yo's out reel late et night an' Lem's ghost do appeah,
Tain't no use hollahin' he'p ! or drapin' dead ob feah ;
But jes' you walk straight backwards 'till you has counted
nine. Den maik a cross, turn reel slo' roun' ; dat am de voodoo sign.
An' den you go right on yore way, an' don* you feah no harm. No powah on earf kin hurt you w'en po'tected by de charm ; An' now dat I has tole a tale accordin' to yore wishes, Heah, Hezikiah ! talk dis towel an' dry yore auntie's dishes !
HOME AND MOTHER
I had a rail good, easy job,
valet fo' Mr. Lee ; An' trabeled wid him mos' de time,
in style an' luxury ; It looks lak I'd be satisfied, but
somehow I'd get blue, Athinkin' 'bout mah country home,
an' mah dead muddah, too.
I's bin to London, seed de Thames,
aslippin' to de sea. An' frum de Mediterranean, seen
sunny Italy ; Done saw de Alpine's snow-capped
peaks, de Cata Combs ob Rome ; But sabe mah soul, I jes' kaint find
no place lak mah home.
Done bin to China, India, too ; met
Japs, an' Senghaleese, In Turkey saw de Sultan pass
his subjects on dere knees ; Seen palaces wid golden tho'nes,
whar monarchs reign supreme ; Still in de th'one room ob dis heart,
mah muddah am de queen.
Bin mong de wheat fields ob de norf,
down souf seed sugah cain ; Done bin frum California's slopes to
chilly sho's ob Maine ; In fact, I's bin mos' ebah whar,
furst one place, den anuddah. Still I ain't foun' no place lak home,
an' no one lak mah muddah.
Soiled and stained, a page in l.ifc's Book,
I tore from its place :
Next, I found a chapter smirched ;
It, too, I would erase.
Those shady spots have spoiled my book,
Can I the wrongs undo,
If, in rewriting, I omit
The ugly parts, I rue?
If I go where I am unknown.
To some strange distant land.
Where no one knows of "wild oats" sown,
Where I know not a man :
Should I deceive a world of men,
And bury deep my sin.
Am I not loser in the end?
It is not hid from Him.
Conscience cried, "Replace that leaf!
Before I brand you, liar, thief,
Withdraw your cloven hoof and naked tooth !
Lay your false thought on yonder shelf,
Be honest with the world and self.
Far fairest of all virtue is the Truth."
They tell me I have lived before. Trod this old earth in days of yore. An elephant, or garter snake. Can this be true, for goodness sake? If spirits flit from things to things, From insects into hearts of kings ; Perhaps I may have been a whale, Or just a creeping slimy snail. Once a porupine, then horse, now man. Far more than I can understand. Though my past forms are naugh to me, The rub is what I next will be.
BLACKS IN BLUE
In Revolutionary days A struggling nation, young, Sent out a call for volunteers With powder-horn and gun ; When Betsy Ross unfurled the flag They vowed to die or do, And marched with Green in Jersey, A few brave Blacks in Blue. In the "War of Eighteen-twelve," With Perry they stood well. To save the day at New Orleans They fought, they bled, and fell ; In "Indian Wars" they took a part, Helped make the "Iron clad's" crew,
They never took a backward step ; Courageous Blacks in Blue.
In the "War of the Rebellion," Ethiopia's son were there ;
Readily they served their country. Willingly they did their share.
Their battle cry was "Victory !" They knew no Waterloo ;
They cheered aloud 'mid bursting shell, Fearless Blacks in Blue.
In the cruel "Civil War," Far worse than all others ;
Fathers fought against their sons, And brothers fought their brothers.
At Gettysburg and Bloody Run, Their bleeding bodies strew
The battlefield, to others free ; Unflinching Blacks in Blue.
In Cuba and the Philippines Their deeds of valor won,
Remember how they rescued The Colonel, at San Juan ;
Above a block house on the hill They raised their "colors true,"
Then lent aid to the shattered "Sixth" — Gallant Blacks in Blue.
In Nineteen-sixteen with Old Glory They marched into Mexico;
And at Carrizal, outnumbered, Bravely faced a deadly foe ;
The acid test of time has tried them, Tried and found them solid, through.
And there never was a traitor Found among the Blacks in Blue.
Broad-minded, far-seeing champion so brave,
A nation sheds hot tears for you ; The Pilot, who boarded a doomed ship to save.
The soul of an awe-stricken crew.
Scholar, guardian, brother to men.
His whole life embedded in work; For others he labored to life's very end,
No man ever knew him to shirk.
Gallant, courageous, unselfish in thought. Foremost in his mind dwelt the cause ;
Around us we see many wonders he wrought, Never ceasing 'till death bade him pause.
Composed, alert, unafraid on that day.
Watched the shadows of earth growing dim ;
Heard a voice from afar calling, "Come, don't delay !" Saw a finger above beckon him.
Las' Sunday mo'nin', ha'f pas' eight,
Wid fishin' pole an' can ob bait,
I met de good ole decon, Jackson Bole ;
Sez he to me, "look heah, youn' man,
Whut has you hab in dat ar' can.
An' whar you gwine wid dat bamboo pole ?"
I stood dar feelin' mighty small,
Kaze I had nary 'scuse et all ;
De decon he done cotched me dead to right ;
Inste'd ob'tentin' Sunday School,
Aslippin' to de fishin' pool.
He tole me dat I stood in mah own light.
Den in his slo' offhan'ed way.
De right an' wrong befo' me lay,
An' tole me whut a man mah pap had bin ;
Lowd he knowed well mah pap would rave,
Would turn plum obah in his grave,
Ef he knowed I comited sech a sin.
Den he sed, "Sonny, if you wish,
Dar's six 'hole days dat you kin fish.
An' onlee one dat breaks de Marstah's rule ;
So, why not cum go 'long wid me
An' git salvashun while it's free.
Or would you raddah be de debbel's tool?"
I grabed holt Jackson by de han',
Tole him dat I laked his stan',
Draped mah fishin' pole an' can ob bait ;
Ax him please take me erlong
Wid him to jine dat do right throng
Dats marchin' onward to de Golden Gate.
Give us a man ! who takes a stand and fights ; Who cringes not, contending for his rights. Who holds his Cause above all personal gain, And boldly bids for place in world's acclaim.
Give us a man ! who looks beyond to-day, Who finds the hidden haunts where dangers lay ; Who leaves no stone unturned, 'till he Has lead his forces on, triumphantly !
Give us a man ! who sees be3^ond his nose, Who wails not o'er spilt milk or passing woes ; Whose courage spark no flaunter's threat can dim, And we will gladly follow after him.
ASHES OF LOVE
Lost far beyond voice of recall, lost is Life's richest prize ; The merry song in discord falls, the sunlight dims and dies. Fond precious treasure, priceless Love ! naught e'er can take
your place ; The field of pleasure you were once, to-day is barren waste.
Like midnight's pleasant dream you fled, you left me thus,
alone ; With my eyes welled in scalding tears and heavy heart of
stone ; O cruel Fate ! please tell me why you dealt the wicked blow ; Why did you give me it to lose ; why did you treat me so?
Ls there no place for weary souls, who would no longer stay, Where all they ever sought to hold, was rudely torn away? W'hen Love's bright fire is cold and dead, ashes remain, no
doubt ; Remain to mock an aching heart ; "Ashes of Love" burned out.
Misery, pain ;
Again, and again.
Near stifling sobs.
Deep piercing sighs.
Fast falling tears
Burning my eyes.
Alas — it is broken,
I hold the parts ;
Is there a tinker
Who mends broken hearts?
"While enlarging the capital "I" remember, the tops of to- day are often the bottoms of to-morrow."
"When you have aimed high, aim higher ; when you have done your duty, do a bit more."
I sho' dislak a man dat feels Lak he's aturnin' all de wheels, An' ef his little mill shets down. Den dis 'hole worl' quit goin' roun' ; Dar's plenty good men cumin' on. An' heaps dat's done bin heah, an' gone, So I ain' bragin', undahstan', I's meerlee talkin', man to man.
I taiks good care ob whut I git, Does mah bes' to maik en's fit; Patch mah klose, ha'f sole mah shoes, Don' wais' nothin' I kin use ; Ain' no slabe to grub or drink, Ain' no miser, don' you think Dat I is se'fish, kaze I's not; Glad to he'p dem whut ain' got.
'Ten's mail church nios' all de time, Ob each dollah gibs a dime ; Lubs to len' a he'pin' han' To mos' airy 'zerbin' man. Mah barn lof plum' full ob hay, Got a few cents tucked erway ; Sun ain' gwine to shine always, Boun' to be some rainy days.
Jes' a word 'bout Emeline, She dat faifful wife ob mine ; Putty, no sah ! bless yore sole. She's de las'in' kine whut hole ; Good an' hones' gal lak yores, Heart ez big ez all out doors ; "She kin cook, man ! She kin bake Co'nbread, taste lak angel cake.
I nevah brag on whut I own, Sellem speak erbout mah home ; Six rooms, toilet, baf complete ; Koncrete cellahs, furnace heat. All mah stock am fit an' fine, Ain' fur frum de tractshun line ; Dar's no finah place erroun'. An' bless you, paid fo' ebah poun'.
You notice how dem wid de mos' Has no time to brag or boas', While dem dat jes' do barlee lib. Plenty free etvice kin gib ; Aldough Ps shame to menshun it, Ps 'cumulated quite a bit; Ps room to brag ez sho' yo's born But Ps no han' to blow mah horn.
"Don't discord ; if you can't harmonize, don't sing."
"Death is but a tunnel between Life uncertain and Life everlasting."
Wen I wuz jes a little lad
On de Hill; I cut pranks bof good an' bad,
On de Hill ; In de "Rabbit Grass,'' or lot, Or some uddah precious spot. Far too deah, to be fo'got ;
On de Hill.
Aftah while thin's grew rail dry.
On de Hill; Same ole cronnies, woods, an' sky,
On deHill; Huntin' fo' de busy whirl, I w'en out into de worl', Lef mah muddah, an' mah girl ;
On de Hill.
I seed thin's I nevah seen,
On de Hill ; Lak de grass I sho wor green,
On de Hill; W'en dey opened up mah eyes, Made me sho nuff worl'ly wise, I cud miss de tendah ties.
On de Hill.
A feelin' cum I nevah had
On deHill; I nevah thought ob feelin' bad,
On de Hill; Feets hanged heavy in dair track, Helf an' strength begun to crack ; Mighty glad to amble back.
On de Hill. I find honey in de breeze,
Onde Hill; Find rail 'holesome rest an' ease,
On de Hill; Dar is somethin' I cain't tell, Gibs me hopes ob gettin' well, Mebbe its de home lak smell,
On de Hill.
If God is not, then who is He, Who reigns above, majestically. Who sees us through the night and day. Who leads us safely all the way?
Who makes the moon shine from afar. Who controls each twinkling star. Who gives us day, and who the night, Who fills the sun with radiant light?
Who placed the coolness in the breeze, Who hung the fruit upon the trees. Who put the fish in yonder brook. Who planted wild flowers in the nook?
Who fills the field with golden grain. Who causes draught, who sends the rain, Who towers the lofty mountains high. Who made the earth, the sea, and sky?
Who sends the rushing rivers on. Who gave the little bird his song, Who scattered islands in the sea. Who gave this life to you and me ?
If God is not, then who is He — E'er at the helm doth pilot thee? Who destines us as on we plod ? 'Tis just Thy power, Almighty God !
Mearch de fiff, nineteen an' two ; Mah Honey Babe : How does you do? Wid pen in han' I drops a line, To let you know I's feelin' fine, An" ast you, how's yore Maw an' Paw, Yore Bruddah, an' yore Sister'n-law ?
I's gitin' on right well out heah, Ob co'se I misses you, mah deah ; But I works on an' grin an' grin, Kaze time ain' long ez it has been, An' fo' long yo'll be heah wid me — Mrs. Jasper Amos Lee !
I 'fess, I sometimes hab de blues, So w'en you writes, tell all de news ; A hearin' 'bout de folks frum you, Sorta he'ps a fellah thoo ; Tell me who's up an' who am down. An' all erbout de deah ole town.
Ain't nothin' much out heah to do, Etcept to sit an' dream ob you ; Jes dream ob you an' Tennessee, De faires' ob de fair to me ; Mah mine an' heart am evah dair, Po'tected by yore lubin care.
'Speck I'll close, it's gitin' late,
Please ancer et en early date ;
Gib kine regards to all de res'.
Do wid mah lub whut you knows bes',
Be a good gal, dream ob me,
Frum yore faififul, Jasper Lee.
P. S. — Sadday's yore berfday,
Somethin' rail nice on de way ;
'Tain't no dimon' lanvenleer.
But yo'll prize it jes ez deah ;
An' Hon, dem crosses stan' fo' kisses,
In de place ob dose I misses.
Merry bells since daybreak pealed,
The sun is shining bright ; Fair lillies blooming in the field
Bedeck the earth in white. Sweet strains from a distant choir
Fall softly on my ear, The Anthem sets my soul afire
With Easter's loving cheer.
I'm wafted back long years ago
To where my Savior died ; To save soul from eternal woe.
The Lord was crucified. I seem to see the silent tomb.
Where Redeemer lay, 'Till angels had dispelled the gloom
And rolled the stone away.
I venture to the entrance dim,
I seek Him in His prison. An angel's voice speaks from within,
"Behold, the Lord is risen !" With joy all earth and heaven sing,
Bid trumpeters proclaim. All hail ! unto the risen King,
The Savior lives again !
Where I was before here I came, I know not ; Nor does it worry me now that I am ; But where I go when here I leave, puzzles me ; The groping in that vast uncertainty.
O ! seething brain, dispel all thoughts of fear ;
Borrow not from doubt those dreams so weird ;
Go ! buckle on your coat of faith and with a trust renewed,
Unflinchingly embrace eternity !
Whar I growed up dar wor no school,
'twuz je' a lonesome wood ; An' all de learnin' dat I got,
I got bes' way I c'u'd ; By watchin' rail close now an' den
I'd cotch a little bit, An' den I'd add some commin' senses,
erlong wid muddah wit.
I nevah had no Gogofee, ain'
seed no Rifmatick, To 'splain de layin' ob de Ian',
an' how to count up quick ; But, w'en I wuz jes' 'bout so big,
mebbe a leetle biggah, Mah muddah wit cum to mah
aid, an' learnt me how to figgah.
I ain' had no Victroll to show
me how to sing, Nor music book wid lines an'
dots, an' dat ar' sort a t'ing; Sitin' neaf de pariah windah, I
would ketch de words rail soon, Den muddah wit would cvim erlong
an' 'sply me wid de tune.
Dat eddiecashun sho am fine,
I's willin' to etmit ; Still, I conten's you ain' much force,
wid out yore muddah wit ; 'Sides, dar is 'hole heaps dat you learn.
dat's writ in no man's books ; An' some dat don' know, A frum B ;
make mighty fus' class cooks.
THE GARDEN OF LIFE
We must work well the soil in the Garden of Life,
From the best in our store we must sow ;
With love's honest toil
We must then till the soil
So the fruit of our labor will show.
With pure, honest thoughts let us fertilize,
From fond loving hearts, irrigate ;
With care, let us hoe
Every row as we go ;
Let us uproot the rank weed of hate.
When "harvest time" comes and the golden grain's ripe,
For a duty well done. He will bless us ;
And sweet flowers we grew
Will be waiting, 'tis true,
At the end of the road to refresh us.
Toil, toil, toil, the days goes by, And what have I ?
A dull abode, a single loaf, a solid cot, On which I lie.
Toil, toil, toil, 'till night shades fall ; What have I won? A bit of rest, then rise to toil anew 'Neath blazing sun.
Toil, toil, toil, 'till honest sweat In beads, upon my brow does stand ; And my reward — a tattered coat, A cobbled shoe, a blistered hand.
On I will toil, a willing toiler; In usefulness true worth is shown ; Had I not better wear out toiling. Than to rust, an idle drone?
"Perseverance is the mother of success."
COFFEE GROUN' CHLOE
Sebenth daughtah ob de sebenth, Born beneaf de mistick vail ; On lebenth day ob month de lebenth, Marked wid signs dat nevah fail. She kin tell yore future histree, 'Deed, dar's nothin' she doan know, An' de darkist hidden mistree, Ain' no mistree 'tall to Chloe.
I care not for the clash of steel.
Nor, for a blood drenched battlefield ;
I find no music in the cannon's roar,
I do not fancy shrieking shell,
That falls, to burst a blinding Hell ;
Would I might dwell in peace for evermore.
Although peace loving, I admit,
I also boast some sand and grit.
And hate a coward like a coiling snake.
A man is no man who won't fight
When Honor, Freedom, Home and Right,
And Liberty and Justice are at stake.
I's sebenty-two an' feelin' good, Kin jump plum' ofif de groun' ; Does enythin' I evah could, Speals now an' den up town ; De tem'pence folks maik et appeah Lak it's a powahful sin ; Jes let em rave, I has no feah ! To-night, I talks on Gin.
I minds mah bissness all de time,
Don' bothah nary soul ;
Mah disposishun sho am fine,
Mah hearts ez pure ez gold.
I nevah tries to gib etvice,
Jes does de bes' I kin ;
An' nevah argues 'bout de price,
De gin man ast fo' Gin.
I does not borrie, nevah len',
Tries hard to do whut's right ;
I knows I is mah own bes' fren';
An' keeps dat fack in sight.
Wen Small Pox circlin' roun' erbout
An' Moanah's in de win',
I 'tects mahse'f fo' I goes out
By takin' on some Gin.
Gin am a tonic, good an' true,
Sho brace you up, alright!
But, ef it gits de bes' ob you,
Yo's in a sad, sad plight ;
So, ef you kain't kintrol yorese'f,
Stop now ! fo' you begin ;
An' leabs dat bottle on de she'f,
You dar not fool mid Gin !
I always keeps it ni' et han',
De vera bes' dat's sold,
Kaze it has he'ped a many man.
Breaks up a rail bad cold ;
An' ef you talks a sip et night.
You nevah will grow thin,
Yo'll fine Gin deals wid you alright,
Ef you deals right wid Gin.
At a hi' tone berfday party, Giben fo' Miss Winnie Lane, Lonnie Johnson, Winnie s sweetheart, Mist his bran' new watch an' chain. Backed his se'f up in de do'way, Grim determin' on his face ; Sed, "he mus' hab his belongin's 'Fo'e a sole c'u'd leab de place."
"I ain't got it!" Jeff Blue shouted. "You kin search me, ' Dode Smif sed. Some de uddahs got ixcited, Uddahs stood an' shuck dai'r head. Den up speaks ole Bruddah Homah, "I kin Stan' it! kin de res'? Fetch de roostah an' de ine pot An' we'll all go thoo de tes'.
Right erway de hostess, Winnie, Furm de kitchen brung a pot; In de meantime, Winnie's Pappy Ushered in his prize Wine Dot. Den Bur Homah sed, "de Scriptahs Tole how Petah cum to grief. An' dat ebah liben' roostah Knowed a liar an' a thief."
Put de roostah 'neaf de ine pot, In de middle ob de flo' ; W'en de thievin' villin tech it Dat ar bird am boun' to cro'. Fall in line an' put de light out, Start to marchin' frum de spot ; An' let ebah body passin' Lay a han' erpon de pot.
Aftah dey had all marched by it, Bruddah Homah lit de light; Ast deni hole dair han' pams upward, So de charm c'u'd work out right. Den, he sed, "de roostah tells me Jeff Blue am de guilty man. An' he knows it jes bekazen Dar's no smut erpon his han'."
Tears are falling, I am sad,
Little Girl ; You were everything I had,
Little Girl ; To your grave alone, I steal. Bare my head and humbly kneel, While I tell Him how I feel,
Every joy on earth in one,
Little Girl ; Sweetheart, wife, companion, chum,
Little Girl ; Seems I see your dear face still. Seems I feel that same old thrill, I believe I always will.
Ere long He will call me, too.
Little Girl ; Call me Home, to Him, and you,
Little Girl ; Everlasting peace we'll share. Free from sorrow, pain and care ; There will be no parting there.
Black America! In Fame's Hall go place This group ; where naught can e'er erase
A single noble character, or dim one glorious deed ; For they were sowers of the seed —
John Brown, at Harper's Ferry, amid his gallant boys : Elijah Lovejoy, who gave all, at Alton, Illinois;
And Lincoln, martyred Lincoln ! Felled by a traitor's blow ; Douglass, Phillips, Garrison, and Harriet Beecher Stowe.
LATE DAY CHILLEN
It's purfeck scanluss how de chillen Pleges de oldah folks now days ; Go way w'en you mos' do need em, Go way an' jes stays, an' stays. Why! de younstars run yore bissness, Bosses you an' dat's a fack, Tells you whut dey will an' won't do, Han's you up back talk an' slack.
I sent Samson to de grocery,
Sakes alibe ! dat boy am slo' ;
'Speck he's somewhar playin' marbles,
Me heah ; mah han's in de dough.
'Sides, I tole him fo' to hurry
Wid de shortnin' fo' de bread,
See him creepin' yondah, don't you,
Lak a snake whut's 'bout to shed.
Boy ! pick up dem feets yo's dragin', Cum arunin' w'en I calls ! Ef I has to git behine you, I'll unseat dem obbah halls ; Is you got dem thin's I tole you? Yas ! is dat whut you sed, Sam? Guess I'll taik you to de smoke house, See ef you kain't say, yas mam.
Mammy lak, I lub mah chillen. Does all airy mammy c'u'd, W'en I scold em or correck em. It am fo' to do em good ; Dey say: "I is antdelouvin. An' dat dey's fruni modern schools," But, I tells em sometimes learnin' Turns sma't Ellicks into fools.
Wondah whar mah baby, Linda? Look up yondah et de clock! Ni' two hours since school has lef out An' it's jes erroun' de block; Dat chile spiled kaze she de baby, She thinks she is cute an' smart. Dough I doesen' lak to do it, I mus' stop her, fo' she start.
Arabella, jes' turned sixteen, Growed up lady, havin' bows ; Runnin' roun' in dead ob Avintah Mos' time wid out propah kloze ; Dat gal am so' hi' fo'lutin'. She calls cookin' "mestic-signs," Wen she quit her job las' Toosday, She sed, "Boss man, I resigns!"
Chillen now is fresh an' fo'stee. Gals is women w'en deys ten ; Boys dat jes am twelve an' thirteen. Smokes an' chews de same ez men ; W'en I see 'em blundah bustin', I jes turns mah head an' smile, Kaze I knows dese se'f same chillen Be de ole folks aftah while.
Mrs. J. C. Adams
Mr. Alfred G. Allen
Mr. Horace H. Allen
Mr. J. H. Allen
Mrs. Buena Anderson
Mr. L. Anderson
Mrs. Larz Anderson
Mrs. John W. Appleton
Mr. Thos. O'Banion
Mr. C. W. Bartler
Mr. Allie Baxter
Mr. Harry Beasley
Mrs. Bessie B. Beaty
Mrs. William Beck
Mr. Carl Beckwith
Rev. J. N. Samuels Belboden
Mrs. R. E. Belsinger
Mrs. T. B. Berry
Miss Eleanora Birnbryer
Mr. William Bishordson
Mrs. Mabel Mack Blackburn
Mrs. J. Emil Blunden
Mr. Chas. E. Boden
Mr. H. W. B. Bowman
Miss J. Bowman
Mrs. Ida Borger
Mrs. Gertrude Boyd
Mr. Jno. J. Brady
Mr. J. C. Bramlette
Rev. and Mrs. W. L. Brean
Mr. Robert J. O'Brien
Mrs. Busina G. Brown
Mrs. Dora Brown
Mrs. Mamie Brown Mr. Ross Brown Mrs. Idella Bryant Mr. John Buckner Mr. Geo. W. Burris Mrs. Pearl Butler Mrs. a B. Byrd Mr. DeWitt McCaleb Mrs. J. T. Cameron Mrs. Leamos Carpenter Mr. J. C. Carson Miss M. P. Chastine Mrs. May Day Chavies Mr. Melvin J. Chisum Mr. A. C. Conrad Mrs. William Copeland Mr. Eugene Cox Mr. M. McCray Mrs. John Crooke Mr. James Custard Mr. W. P. Dabney Mr. Lewis Dale Mr. C. P. Dandridge Mr. R. B. Dandridge Mrs. Annabelle Davis Mrs. Estella R. Davis Mrs. L. D. Drewry Mr. Jackson Dillahay Mrs. Lilly Dixon Mrs. Rosa Douglas Mrs. Delia Dotson Mr. H. S. Dunbar Mrs. Ella Duncan
Mr. Sidney C. Durst
Mrs. Amelia Duwel
Miss Mazie A. Earhart
Miss L. V. Edmondson
Mrs. John Elliott
Mrs. Chas. Fleischmann
Mr. John S. Fielding
Mr. James Fields
Miss Lillian B. Finch
Mr. and Mrs. Howard E. Finley
Mr. John H. Finley
Mr. Clifford H. Fisher
Mr. Eugene Foertmeyer
Miss Emma T. Ford
Mrs. Mary C. Ford
Mr. Wm. H. Ford
Mrs. Ella Fowler
Mrs. Nannie Fulkerson
Mr. E. M. Galbraith
Miss Eliza Garforth
Miss Julia Garner
Mrs. Bessie G. Gee
Mrs. S. O. George
Mrs. Ella Goodloe
Rev. Chas. Frederick Goss
Mr. S. W. McGrath
Mr. and Mrs. H. H. Grandison
Mr. James Griffin
Mrs. R. A. Green
Mr. Howard T. Greer
Mr. Charles Grieser
Mr. B. W. Hall
Mr. Frank A. B. Hall
Mrs. N. M. Hain
Mr. Newell H. Hargrave
Mrs. Anderson Harris
Miss Willa Louise Harrison
Mr. Daniel Hatmaker
Mr. Geo. W. Hays
Mrs. J. M. Hays
Mrs. Hannah Henderson
Mr. Roy Hensley
Miss Jessie Higginbothem
Mrs. Clifford Hill
Mrs. Minnie Hogan
Mrs. Sarah Holley
Mrs. Rebecca D. Horner
Mrs. Minnie Hughes
Mrs. W. Hughes
Mr. A. Franklin Hull
Mr. and Mrs. C. H. Hull
Mr. H. Hannibal Hull
Mr. C. E. Hunt
Mr. and Mrs. A. L. Imes
Miss Alice Jackson
Miss Anna Jackson
Mr. James Jackson
Mr. Carl M. Jacobs
Miss Marguerite Jacobs
Mr. Roger C. James
Mrs. Evelyn Jones
Mr. and Mrs. J. L. Jones
Mr. J. T. Jones
Rev. W. Augustus Jones
Mr. Harry Jordon
Mr. Wm. Kirbe
Mr. Richard Kirk
Mrs. Judge Knott
Mr. Robert Laidlaw
Mrs. Wm. H. Lawrence
Miss Elma C. Leach
Mrs. Lucy C. Lee
Mr. Francis Lesley
Mr. Robert Lesley
Mr. H. L. Lewis
Mr. L. Lewis
Mr. Walton C. Levi
Mr. John Uri Lloyd
Mrs. Annie Love
Mrs. Theo. Luth
Mr. John Lutie
Mr. S. C. Lutie
Mr. JeflFerson Macgown
Mr. and Mrs. Robert Mallory
Mrs. Robert Marsh
Mrs. Stanley Marsh
Mrs. Bessie Marshall
Mrs. Mattie Marshall
Mr. Harry M. Martin
Mr. Clark H. Mason
Mr. and Mrs. Ed Mason
Mr. J. Masterson
Miss Ethel R. LaMay
Mr. and Mrs. Harry Meyer
Mrs. Belle Miller
Mr. Thos. Monroe
Mrs. Carter A. Moore
Mrs. W. B. Morrow
Mrs. Nancy Montgomery
Mr. G. M. Murphy
Mr. and Mrs. W. J. Nance
Mr. W. T. Nelson
Mr. Marshall Nixon
Mrs. E. C. Nunn
Mrs. Cora Oliver
Rev. and Mrs. E. H. Oxley
Mrs. Anna Patterson
Mr. Ambrose Dent Penn
Mrs. Lucy Penn
Mrs. Ella Perry
Miss Julia Pomodore
Mr. E. A. Powell
Mr. Pherrel DePrad
Mrs. Georgia Prather
Mrs. Benj. Price
Miss Willa Mae Prothro
Mr. Geo. Puchta
Mr. Felix H. Rains
Mr. C. Ratcliff
Miss Flora Rechel
Mr. A. L. Reilly
Miss Ruth Reilly
Mrs. Eula Rice
Mrs. Beatrice Richardson Miss Myrtle L. Richardson Mrs. Polly Richardson Mrs. Ross Rivers Mr. Geo. Roberson Mr. James H. Robinson Mrs. Minnie Robinson Mrs. L. C. Rose Mrs. S. O. Ross Mr. Wm. Ross Mr. John Roy Mr. J. L. Rump Mrs. Rachel Russell Mrs. Zenobia C. Russell Mr. William Rutledge Mrs. Katherine Samples Miss Mahala Saunders Mr. Percy P. Saunders Mrs. William Saunders Mr. Fred Schneller Mr. James Scott Mrs. R. Seaborn Mr. E. L. Shedd Mr. William Sheely Mrs. Chas. F. Shiels Mrs. Chas. Shotwell Miss Selmarita Shorter Mr. Leander A. Simms Mrs. Myra Sims Mrs. Chas. G. Skirner Mrs. Belle Smith Miss Hannah Smith Mrs. James Smith Mr. Wiley Smith Mrs. J. R. Steward Mr. W. S. Strickland Mr. Horace Sudduth Mrs. Laura Summers Mr. N. O. Swan Miss M. Wyolene Swanson Mrs. Ed Taylor
Mrs. John J. Taylor Mrs. J. W. Taylor Mrs. N. A. Taylor Mrs. William Taylor Mrs. Geo. H. Thayer Mr. Frank Thomas Mrs. Warren Thomas Mr. Robert Tivis Mrs. Kate Tolbert Miss Bessie Tompkins Mr. Jas. H. Tompson Mr. H. J. Toian Mr. D. R. Turner Miss K. Vandever Mr. W. Vonhagen Miss Annie Walker Rev. J. Franklin Walker Mr. Robert Wallace Mrs. Sarah Wallace Mr. Wm. Wallace Mr. Morris Walton Mr. Stephen Warren Mr. Thos. Preston Warren Mrs. E. Mary Washington Mrs. Katie Webb
Miss Fannie West Miss Gayla K. West Miss Mabel West Miss Edythe M. Weston Mr. Fred Wheeler Mrs. A. L. Whitaker Mr. E. F. White Miss Elizabeth White Mrs. W. V. Wihite Mrs. Edna J. Wiekins Mr. Joe Wilbon Mr. Fred Wiley Mr. E. A. Williams Mr. Green Williams Mr. H. T. Williams Miss Nellie E. Williams Miss Sallie E. Williams Miss Alice E. Wilson Mr. W. L. Wilson Miss Martha Winkfield Mrs. Eva Woods M. Wilbur C. Woodson Mr. W. B. Young Mr. Harry C. Zeller
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