<h2><SPAN name="CHAPTER_XXXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXXVI"></SPAN>CHAPTER XXXVI</h2>
<p class="center">A SNAKE IN THE GRASS</p>
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<p class="cap_1">USUALLY in the story of a man's life, or
in fiction, when he gets the girl's consent
to marry, first admitting the love, the
story ends; but with mine it was much
to the contrary. The story did not end there,
nor when we had married that afternoon at two
o'clock. Instead, my marriage brought the change
in my life which was the indirect cause of my writing
this story. From that time adventures were numerous.
We arrived in Megory several hours late and
remained over night at a hotel, going to the farm the
next morning and then to the house I had rented
temporarily.</p>
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<p>I breathed a sigh of relief when I looked over the
fields, and saw that the boy I hired had done nicely
with the work during my absence. The next night
about sixty of the white neighbors gave us a charivari
and my wife was much pleased to know there
was no color prejudice among them. We purchased
about a hundred dollars worth of furniture in the
town and at once began housekeeping. My bride
didn't know much about cooking, but otherwise
was a good housekeeper, and willing to learn all
she could. She was not a forceful person and could
not be hurried, but was kind and good as could be,
and I soon became very fond of her and found marriage
much of an improvement over living alone.</p>
<p>In May we went up to her claim and put up a sod
house and stayed there awhile, later returning to
Megory<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</SPAN></span>
county to look after the crops. Our first
trouble occurred in about a month. I was still
rather angry over the Reverend's obliging me to
spend the money to go to Chicago. This had cost
me a hundred dollars which I needed badly to pay
the interest on my loan. Letters began coming
from the company holding the mortgages, besides
I had other obligations pending. I had only fifty
dollars in the bank when I started to Chicago and
while there drew checks on it for fifty more, making
an overdraft of fifty dollars which it took me a month
to get paid after returning home. The furniture
required for housekeeping and improvements in
connection with the homesteads took more money,
and my sister went home to attend the graduation
of another sister and I was required to pay the bills.
My corn was gathered and I now shelled it. As the
price in Megory was only forty cents at the elevators
I hauled it to Victor, where I received seventy and
sometimes seventy-five cents for it, but as it was
thirty-five miles, that took time and the long drive
was hard on the horses. Orlean's folks kept writing
letters telling her she must send money to buy something
they thought nice for her to have, and while
no doubt not intending to cause any trouble, they
made it very hard for me. Money matters are
usually a source of trouble to the lives of newly-weds
and business is so cold-blooded that it contrasts
severely with love's young dream.</p>
<p>My position was a trying one for the reason that
all the relatives on both sides seemed to take it for
granted that I should have plenty of money, and
nothing I could say or do seemed to change matters.
From<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</SPAN></span>
his circuit the Reverend wrote glowing letters
to his "daughter and son," of what all the people
were saying. Everybody thought she had married
so well; Mr. Devereaux, or Oscar, as they put it,
was of good family, a successful young man, and
was rich. I hadn't written to him and called him
"dear father." Perhaps this is what I should have
done. In a way it would have been easy enough
to write, and since my marriage I had no letters to
spend hours in writing. Perhaps I should have
written to him, but when a man is in the position
I faced, debts on one side and relatives on the other,
I thought it would not do to write as I felt, and I
could not write otherwise and play the hypocrite, as
I had not liked him from the beginning, and now disliked
him still more because I could find no way of
letting him know how I felt. This was no doubt
foolish, but it was the way I felt about it at the time.
My father-in-law evidently thought me ungrateful,
and wrote Orlean that I should write him or the
folks at home occasionally, but I remained obdurate.
I felt sure he expected me to feel flattered over the
opinions of which he had written in regard to my
being considered rich, but I did not want to be
considered rich, for I was not. I had never been
vain, and hating flattery, I wanted to tell her people
the truth. I wanted them to understand, if they
did not, what it took to make good in this western
country, and that I had a load and wanted their
encouragement and invited criticism, not empty
praise and flattery.</p>
<p>Before I had any colored people to discourage me
with their ignorance of business or what is required
for<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</SPAN></span>
success, I was stimulated to effort by the example
of my white neighbors and friends who were doing
what I admired, building an empire; and to me that
was the big idea. Their parents before them knew
something of business and this knowledge was a
goodly heritage. If they could not help their
children with money they at least gave their moral
support and visited them and encouraged them
with kind words of hope and cheer. The people
in a new country live mostly on hopes for the first
five or ten years. My parents and grandparents
had been slaves, honest, but ignorant. My father
could neither read nor write, had not succeeded in a
large way, and had nothing to give me as a start,
not even practical knowledge. My wife's parents
were a little different, but it would have been better
for me had her father been other than "the big
preacher" as he was referred to, who in order to
be at peace with, it was necessary to praise.</p>
<p>What I wanted in the circumstances I now faced
was to be allowed to mould my wife into a practical
woman who would be a help in the work we had
before us, and some day, I assured her, we would
be well to do, and then we could have the better
things of life.</p>
<p>"How long?" She would ask, weeping. She
was always crying and so many tears got on my
nerves, especially when my creditors were pestering
me with duns, and it is Hades to be dunned, especially
when you have not been used to it.</p>
<p>"Oh!" I'd say. "Five or ten years."</p>
<p>And then she'd have another cry, and I would
have to do a lot of petting and persuading to keep
her<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</SPAN></span>
from telling her mother. This all had a tendency
to make me cross and I began to neglect
kissing her as much as I had been doing, but she
was good and had been a nice girl when I married
her. She could only be made to stop crying when
I would spend an hour or two petting and assuring
her I still loved her, and this when I should have been
in the fields. She would ask me a dozen times a
day whether I still loved her, or was I growing tired
of her so soon. She was a veritable clinging vine.
This continued until we were both decidedly unhappy
and then began ugly little quarrels, but when
she would be away with my sister to her claim in
Tipp county I would be so lonesome without her,
simple as I thought she was, and days seemed like
weeks.</p>
<p>One day she was late in bringing my dinner to
the field where I was plowing, and we had a quarrel
which made us both so miserable and unhappy that
we were ashamed of ourselves. By some power for
which we were neither responsible, our disagreements
came to an end and we never quarreled again.</p>
<p>The first two weeks in June were hot and dry,
and considerable damage was done to the crops in
Tipp county and in Megory county also. The
winds blew from the south and became so hot the
young green plants began to fire, but a big rain on
the twenty-fourth saved the crops in Megory
county. About that time the Reverend wrote that
he would come to see us after conference, which
was then three months away.</p>
<p>One day we were going to town after our little
quarrels were over, and I talked kindly with Orlean
about<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</SPAN></span>
her father and tried to overcome my dislike
of him, for her sake. I had learned by that time
just how she had been raised, and that was to
to praise her father. She would say:</p>
<p>"You know, papa is such a big man," or "He
is so great."</p>
<p>She had begun to call me her great and big husband,
and I think that had been the cause of part of
our quarrels for I had discouraged it. I had a
horror of praise when I thought how silly her father
was over it, and she had about ceased and now
talked more sensibly, weighing matters and helping
me a little mentally.</p>
<p>We talked of her father and his expected visit.
She appeared so pleased over the prospect and said:</p>
<p>"Won't he make a hit up here? Won't these
white people be foolish over his fine looks and that
beautiful white hair?" And she raised her hands
and drew them back as I had seen her do in stroking
her father's hair.</p>
<p>I agreed with her that he would attract some
attention and changed the subject. When we
returned home she gave me the letter to read that
she had written to him. She was obedient and did
try so hard to please me, and when I read in the
letter she had written that we had been to town and
had talked about him all the way and were anxious
for him to visit us; that we had agreed that he would
make a great impression with the people out here,
I wanted very much to tell her not to send that
letter as it placed me in a false light, and would
cause him to think the people were going to be
crazy about him and his distinguished appearance;
but<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</SPAN></span>
she was watching me so closely that I could
not be mean enough to speak my mind and did not
offer my usual criticism.</p>
<p>A short time before her father arrived, a contest
was filed against Orlean's claim on the ground that
she had never established a residence. We had
established residence, but by staying much of the
time in Megory county had laid the claim liable
to contest. The man who filed the contest was a
banker in Amro, this bank being one of the few
buildings left there. I knew we were in for a
big expense and lots of trouble, which I had feared,
and had been working early and late to get through
my work in Megory county and get onto her claim
permanently.</p>
<p>We did not receive the Reverend's letter stating
when he would arrive so I was not at the train to
meet him, but happened to be in town on horse
back. In answer to my inquiries, a man who had
come in on the train gave me a description of a
colored man who had arrived on the same train,
and I knew that my father-in-law was in town.
I went to the hotel and found he had left his baggage
but had gone to the restaurant, where I found him.
He seemed pleased to be in Megory and after I
explained that I had not received his letter, I went
to look up a German neighbor who was in town in
a buggy, thinking I would have the Reverend ride
out with him. When we got ready to go the German
was so drunk and noisy that the Reverend was
frightened and remarked cautiously that he did
not know whether he wanted to ride out with a
drunken man or not. The German heard him and
roared in a still louder tone:</p>
<p>"You<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</SPAN></span>
don't have to ride with me. Naw! Naw!
Naw!"</p>
<p>The elder became more frightened at this and
hurriedly ducked into the hotel, where he stayed.
I hitched a team of young mules to the wagon the
next morning and sent Orlean to town after him.</p>
<p>The Reverend seemed to be carried away with
our lives on the Little Crow, and we got along fine
until he and I got to arguing the race question,
which brought about friction. It was as I had
feared but it seemed impossible to avoid it. He had
the most ancient and backward ideas concerning
race advancement I had ever heard. He was filled
to overflowing with condemnation of the white
race and eulogy of the negro. In his idea the negro
had no fault, nor could he do any wrong or make
any mistake. Everything had been against him
and according to the Reverend's idea, was still.
This he would declare very loudly. From the race
question we drifted to the discussion of mixed
schools.</p>
<p>The Reverend had educated his girls with the
intention of making teachers of them and would
speak of this fact with much pride, speaking slowly
and distinctly like one who has had years of oratory.
He would insist that the public schools of Chicago
have not given them a chance. "I am opposed
to mixed schools," he would exclaim. "They are
like everything else the white people control. They
are managed in a way to keep the colored people
down."</p>
<p>Here Orlean dissented, this being about the only
time she did openly disagree with him. She was
firm<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</SPAN></span>
in declaring there was no law or management
preventing the colored girls' teaching in Chicago
if they were competent.</p>
<p>"In the first place," she carefully continued,
"the school we attended in Ohio does not admit
to teach in the city."</p>
<p>In order to teach in the city schools it is either
necessary to be a graduate of the normal, or have had
a certain number of years' experience elsewhere.
I do not remember all the whys, but she was emphatic
and continued to insist that it was to some
extent the fault of the girls, who were not all as
attentive to books as they should be; spending too
much time in society or with something else that
kept them from their studies, which impaired their
chances when they attempted to enter the city
schools.</p>
<p>She held up instances where colored girls were
teaching in Chicago schools and had been for years,
which knocked the foundation from his argument.</p>
<p>There are very few colored people in a city or
state which has mixed schools, who desire to have
them separated. The mixed schools give the colored
children a more equal opportunity and all the
advantage of efficient management. Separate
schools lack this. Even in the large cities, where
separate schools are in force, the advantage is invariably
with the white schools.</p>
<p>Another advantage of mixed schools is, it helps
to eliminate so much prejudice. Many ignorant
colored people, as well as many ignorant white
people, fill their children's minds with undue prejudice
against each race. If they are kept in separate
schools<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</SPAN></span>
this line becomes more distinct, with
one colored child filling the mind of other colored
children with bad ideas, and the white child doing
likewise, which is never helpful to the community.
By nature, in the past at least, the colored children
were more ferocious and aggressive; too much so,
which is because they have not been out of heathenism
many years. The mixed school helps to eliminate
this tendency.</p>
<p>With the Reverend it was a self-evident fact, that
the only thing he cared about was that it would
be easier for the colored girls to teach, if the schools
were separate. I was becoming more and more
convinced that he belonged to the class of the negro
race that desires ease, privilege, freedom, position,
and luxury without any great material effort on
their part to acquire it, and still held to the time-worn
cry of "no opportunity."</p>
<p>Following this disagreement came another. I
had always approved of Booker T. Washington,
his life and his work in the uplift of the negro.
Before his name was mentioned I had decided just
about how he would take it, and I was not mistaken.
He was bitterly opposed to the educator.</p>
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<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</SPAN></span></p>
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