Staunton Spectator

It has been manifest ever since the war that the soldiers of the North, who bravely met our Southern soldiers in the field of deadly conflict, have exhibited less hostility to the South than those white-livered wretches who staid securely at home and "snuffed the battle afar off." This is not to be wondered at, for the brave are always generous, and cowards nearly always malignant. The brave will never strike the fallen -- cowards will strike none other.

Another reason is, that the soldiers in the North enlisted and fought for the preservation of the Union, and are consequently the friends of restoration, and the opponents of the policy of the Radicals which would prevent the restoration of the Union, and trample ruthlessly upon the rights of the people.

In the language of the Richmond Times, they fought to restore the Union, and seventeen months after the obtained the victory -- after the last Confederate banner was lowered, they find that the Union is not restored; and they are at no difficulty in placing the responsibility upon the right shoulders. These considerations explain why it is that the soldiers and sailors are rallying so enthusiastically round the President and the new party. They find themselves stultified by the doctrines and acts of Radicalism, and in the stubborn facts of continued disunion they see the failure of the war, and recognize the triumph of secession.

It is being fully recognized by the thinking men of the North that if the political organization of the country be not restored upon the basis of conservatism, they will have, perhaps, in their own section one of the bloodiest civil wars this continent has ever witnessed. The sober, common sense of the Northern people, irrespective of party, will more and more snuff the dangers of Radical victory, and will surely shrink from plunging this land in all the multiplied terrors of another civil war.

Believing, as we do, since the sullen wholesale freeing of the negroes, that in the course of a few generations, they will become extinct, we have thought it might be interesting to some of the readers of the Spectator to give a short sketch of a few of the most noted negroes that lived here in time gone by; and, perhaps, in after years, to read about a people extinct, who one numbered in the South two or three millions, might be regarded as curious and entertaining.

In giving these sketches, we don't propose to relate them in regular chronological order, but just at random as they happened to occur to us.

At the old "Wayne Tavern," there were several noted servants. There was "Old Dennis," a little old black man, who had been in his time a valuable dining room servant, but lived, as far back as my own memory of him goes, as a retired old gentleman. He was always, neatly dressed, kept a horse, and was frequently to be seen taking rides to the country, for his health and pleasure, we suppose.

"Billy Gordon," a yellow man, brother of "old Aunt Daphne." But was the hostler, an industrious, well-behaved man when sober, but would sometimes get drunk; then, he was crazy, and would fancy himself a free mason.--He might be seen at such times with a masonic apron on riding a horse to water, holding one hand over his head in a peculiar position, crying but every now and then, "a free and accepted mason."

"Daniel Webster," a large, pretty looking black man, well and favorably known to travellers, was an excellent servant, always pleasant and attentive to the guests.

At the old "Washington Tavern," the most noted servant was "Ben Watson," better known, perhaps, as "Harman's Ben." He was famed for making delicious Mint Juleps and Hail Storms. We have heard Ben's juleps spoken of nearly a thousand miles from Staunton.

Another well known old black man, was "Old Uncle Tom" -- Aunt Daphne's husband -- he was a Revolutionary character. We believe he claimed to have been the body servant of some officer in the American Revolution.--Uncle Tom was generally neatly dressed, polite, and dignified, at times somewhat pompous, and found of using big words. We remember one of Tom's speeches. One evening, he was waiting on some young men in one of the stores, who were indulging in a social glass when some one stepped in, that he considered rather an intruder. Tom said to him, "Sir, you must be a perlitical character." The man said, "Uncle Tom, what kind of a character is that?" Tom immediately straightened himself up, and with all the dignity of manner possible, replied: "It ar a man what steps up whar a parcel of gentlemen ar conversing together, and looks brazen, and flings forth an idea onto a certin branch of business, farther forth than he can rightly ascertain; that, sir, is what I term a perlitical character."

Many years ago, there were several colored clergymen about the town and neighborhood. there were "Uncle Louis," "Uncle Abraham," "Parson Joe Mead," and one or two others.--"Louis" was once telling us that, between himself and "Brother Abram," there was a great difference. "Now," said he, "Brother Abram can't take a text and wander, and come back again; but I can take a text and wander away off, and come back again to the very same place whar I started from." We heard Joe Mead, one Sunday afternoon, in Hopkins' wagon-maker's shop, discoursing on the Judgment Day. "Ah!, my friends," said he, "in that great day, the Lord will come, and He will place one foot on the sea shore and the other on dry land."--These preachers were mostly, what the boys called, Wet Baptists. That is, they were quite fond of a dram.

In these colored sketches, we must not forget two old negro women, one was called Old Doctor Jane, that lived with Mrs. Edmundson.--She was in the habit of visiting the sick all over town, and we believe never failing to prescribe for them. She was a tall, venerable looking old woman, and walked with a very long cane. The other was "Aunt Nellie" that lived with Mr. Tremper. She was a great Methodist, a good old woman, very fond of religious excitements. Many a time we have heard her lecturing a negro man, named Jim. She would shake her fist at him, and say, Ah, Jim! you, sinner! you, reprobate! you better go 'long and say your prayers, and then, Nellie was tricked, as the negroes call it. She fancied, at time, that she had lizards, &c, in her arms. We will now say something about an old black man who belonged to Dr. Waddell, "Old Isaac." He was not the most intelligent servant we have known, yet, "Uncle Isaac," fancied himself quite smart and useful. On one occasion, his master sent him to the country to purchase a pig; when Isaac came back, he reported to his master that the woman he got the pig from axed him "four and six pence for the pig, but he beat her down to a dollar." Another time, he was directed to count the sheep; he returned, saying "Master, I counted all the sheep, but the old black Yo, (Ewe) and she jumped so, and kicked so, I couldn't count her."

A famous personage of African descent, that resided in Staunton a long while ago, was known by the name of Mathew B. Truss, shoemaker, peddler and hack owner, and we are not sure that he did not sometimes preach a little. At any rate, we have heard that when he was out on his peddling trips, he would occasionally make collections for the support of the Gospel, and put it into his own pockets. Truss built the house in which B. F. Points now resides. He had his shop in an old frame house that stood on New Street, opposite to where Graves and Stoddard have their tailor's shop, a large sign swung out at the door, with a boot and shoe painted on it, an underneath them these lines:

"As you pass by,

On me, cast an eye,

If you have any money to spend,

Please leave it with a friend."

--M. R. Truss.

For a long while, Truss carried on the most extensive shoe shop in town. He generally worked from ten to fifteen hands. "Cy Curry" and "Andy Roman" were among the most noted. By the way, we had the pleasure of meeting with Andy, some months ago, looking pretty much as he had done for twenty years past, with this difference, whiskey and old age had somewhat impaired his memory and eyesight. At one time, the workmen in Truss' shop held a kind of court in the shop a case being before the court, in which "Cy Curry" was counsel for one of the parties, and another workman, named Tate, had something to do in the matter. WE don't know whether he was judge, or was counsel for the opposite side.--All we now remember of having heard about the trial, was a short sentence from Curry's speech, he said, "had I the dictatorial powers over the court that my friend Tate has, I and my client would have justice! did I say justice? yes, sir, and more than justice."

Another quite noted negro man that lived in our town, about thirty-five years ago, was Dr. Boyd's "Jim," or as the Doctor usually called him, "London Beggar." Jim was a pretty large man, and very strong and active. He was a considerable wit among his colored associates, and, indeed, afforded a great deal of amusement often to white persons. Many a hearty laugh have we had of Jim's funny stories.

We remember, when a boy, there was a custom among the Baptist negroes, long since -- we believe -- given up. It was this: some weeks after any one of their members died, the funeral ceremonies would take place, they would gather at the house where the person had died, and would, we suppose, have services of some kind there. Then they would walk in procession from the house to the grave singing as they went some solemn, good, old Baptist tune, and principal singers among the brethren walking with their heads uncovered.

Among the colored folks, particularly the aristocracy, "Nick Johnson, Sr.," a yellow man that belonged to old Mr. Mathews, was quite a noted character. He was a large, good looking man, a pleasant countenance, hair somewhat gray, sometimes he powdered; the finest dresser almost in town, particularly on Sundays. Many a time have we seen him in the summer dressed in a fine, large, flowing morning gown, nankin pantaloons, white vest and cravat, and, we believe, he occasionally wore breeches or short, and now and then, fair top boots. "Uncle Nick" was very polite and graceful in his manners.

We intended these sketches to be about home folks alone, but in the following, we go to Richmond for our subjects. A few years ago, we stepped into a barber's shop in that city to get shaved. We found the proprietor of the shop, a fine looking yellow man, very pleasant and very polite, indeed, quite the gentleman in his manners. Whilst we were in there, he was engaged in conversation with a very plain looking white man that he was shaving. Foreign and domestic politics, and religion were extensively discussed. In the course of the conversation, the barber talking of St. Paul, said, "Now, there was St. Paul, you know, he was prosecuting attorney for the Jews, and he was sent to Jerusalem with sealed proposals persecuting the christians."

Women, as a general rule, are not usefully educated in this country. They are chiefly taught those accomplishments which the experience of their mothers has proven to be best calculated to attract young men, and consequently, to insure husbands. Music, dancing, French and Italian, are considered indispensable to the "finish" of any young lady, in these degenerate days, but the more solid qualities which, in the olden time, were esteemed so necessary in the female catalogue of charms in the "good old times," are out of date. In sooth, they are pronounced in elegant society de trop, and stigmatised as vulgar. The woman who not many years ago, was a non-proficient in the culinary art, and inexpert with her needle, was deemed unfit candidate for matrimony. If she could not make a rare pie, dish up a meal in peculiarly attractive style, turn out a superior loaf of bread, knit a pair stockings with taste, and sew up garments with exemplary celebrity, she was shunned by the male sex, and pitied by her own, as sadly defective. But now, tout vela est change. The woman dexterous in such performances demonstrates her own unfitness for position in the world of fashion. Husbands are supposed to live upon the sound of a piano, and to be ready, in the most distressing moments, to go off into harmonic ecstasies at the first intimation of a brilliant duct. They are presumed to be totally indifferent in respect to what they eat or wear -- to have a noble contempt for such vulgar things as shirt or button -- to contemplate a woman too imaginatively to suspect her culpable of a knowledge of anything but the toilette and belles lettres.

With this ideal conception of the character of a husband in their minds, young ladies necessarily aim only at the acquisition of corresponding qualifications. They aim at sentimentality and romance, instead of substantial common sense, and permanent information! The result is an exuberance of satisfaction during the halcyon days of courtship, and the saccharine hours of the honeymoon; but when the "angel of a wife" subsides, in time, into the incapable domestic partner, and the "love of a husband" degenerates into the satiated master of the house, then comes a season of remorse, of melancholy, of mutual recrimination and mutual animosity. Should fate make such a helpless wife of a widow, and necessity throw her upon her own resources for the support of herself and family, unhappy indeed must she be in her destitution. Her expensive accomplishments will neither provide bread for her children nor consolation for herself. music will not silence the cry of hunger; dancing will not exercise the gaunt fiend we call Want. Sorrow refuses to submit to the syren song of an affected mirth. Seldom can one of the wasted talents be turned in such a dilemma, to available, to available account; and all the precious years invested in the accumulation of those showy nothings, present themselves like so many ghosts of misspent moments, but to chide the past for its extravagance, and fill the future with apprehensions.

Who has not seen instances of just such calamity? Whose experience is not fraught with some such scenes of anguish? And yet, how slight an element of hope would alter the picture -- how small a knowledge of the business of relations of life -- how little an acquaintance of those homely arts which enable the feeblest by their industry, spirit, taste, or enterprise remunerative, to completely change the view, cheer up the despondent, add a silver lining to the cloud of grief, and produce a vision of comfort,if not of independence! Why not -- oh! why not -- make them practical, as well as interesting members of society?