to complain of, and similar rights and institutions to save and protect. If any of those States wish a consultation with us and each other, it is our duty to afford a fair opportunity for a full, free, fraternal interview. Should that take place, I hope, as my friend Mr. Watts expressed it, that "we may all go out together." As Judge Goldthwaite expressed it, that "we will act together." But there is a point beyond that. In the contingency that consultation shall not produce concert-that all will not "act"-or "go out together," what then? Shall we like them linger yet within the desecrated portals of the Government-shall we remain and be all slaves-shall we remain but to share with them the disgrace of inequality and dishonor? God forbid! Let us act in that event for ourselves. I have good reason to believe that the action of any State will be peaceable-will not be resistedunder the present, or any probable prospective condition of Federal affairs. I believe there will not be power to direct a gun against a sovereign State. Certainly there will be no will to do so during the present administration. And if resisted, blood shed will appeal to blood throbbing in Southern bosoms, and our brethren from every Southern State will flock to defend the soil of a State which may be threatened by mercenary bayonets. It is not all of life to live, nor all of death to die. To do one's duty is man's chief aim in life. Better far to close our days by an act of duty-life's aims fulfilled, than to prolong them for years-years filled with the corroding remembrance that we had tamely yielded to our ease and our fears that noble heritage, which was transmitted to us through toil, suffering, battle and victory, with the condition that we likewise should transmit it unimpaired to our posterity. As for myself, rather than live on, subject to a government which breaks the compact at will, and places me in a position of inequality of inferiority to the Northern free negro-though that life might be illustrated by gilded chains-by luxury and by ease, I would in the cause of my state gather around me some brave spirits, who however few in number, would find a grave, which my countrymen-the world and all future ages should recognize as a modern Thermopyla! MARTHA YOUNG M ANNIE REESE LOCKE ARTHA YOUNG was born at the country home of her parents in Hale County, Alabama. Her father was Dr. Elisha Young, an eminent physician and surgeon, who gave to the Confederacy four years of service as surgeon at Fort Morgan, Alabama, and after the war increased the reputation he had won in this position. He was still engaged in the practice of his humane profession when death came on November 6, 1898, in Greensboro, Alabama. Dr. Young's father was Colonel Elisha Young, an honor graduate of Princeton, who enjoyed in his day the reputation of being a statesman of note and an orator of great eloquence in the ranks of the old Whig party. Among his personal friends in political life was Henry Clay. The father of Colonel Young was Captain John Young, of Virginia, an officer in the Revolutionary Army. On her father's side Miss Young is descended from a line of distinguished men, whose services to their country and states gave them distinct standing. Her mother was Anne Eliza Ashe Tutwiler Young, a woman who inherited a remarkable mind from her father, and emulated him in his attainments, for she was the daughter of Henry Tutwiler, of Virginia by birth, and of Alabama by adoption. Henry Tutwiler was among the first students matriculated in the University of Virginia, and, with his dear friend, Gessner Harrison, belonged to that division of the student body known in those early sessions for its laborious application and splendid attainments. He was the first recipient. of the degree of Master of Arts, and reflected on his alma mater great honor by the significant use made of the learning his degree betokened. In Alabama he became founder and headmaster of the famous Green Spring Academy. Mr. Tutwiler's wife, Julia Ashe, was a granddaughter of Governor Samuel Ashe of North Carolina, a member of that distinguished group after whom Ashe County and Asheville were named. Through her maternal ancestors, Miss Young is a descendant of Sir James Yeamans, founder of Charleston, South Carolina, and through her paternal grandmother, whose name she bears, is connected with the well-known Strudwick family. Miss Young made her first appearance in print with a Christmas story, published in the Times-Democrat, of New Orleans, a paper noted for the encouragement it has always given to young Southern writers. This story appeared over the nom de plume of Eli Shepperd, and over this signature Miss Young's work continued to appear until her first book, 'Plantation Songs,' was published in 1901, by R. H. Russell. This book at once received high commendations, both North and South. The Springfield (Massachusetts) Republican thus noted it: "That a negro song may be as sweet and attractive as if one of a more favored race were singing, has been proved by Paul Laurence Dunbar. Chestnut has shown that romance is as true with black as with white. Joel Chandler Harris has done much to illume these features of the negro's character. Nothing has been done in this line before quite so good as this volume of plantation songs, by Eli Shepperd (Martha Young)." Said the Journal, of Montgomery, Alabama: "The book is as fresh as the breath of a crab-apple blossom in springtime. As Herrick shrined in meter the rural life of Devon hundreds of years ago for the delight of posterity, the author of 'Plantation Songs' has gathered and put away in literary lavender, with a picturesque touch, the gay and pathetic, the humorous and quaint scenes and events of negro life in the Alabama fields and swamps of to-day." In 1902, the same firm brought out 'Plantation Bird Legends,' which confirmed her fame as one of the foremost dialect writers of America. "Her dialect verse," wrote Uncle Remus, "is the best written since Irwin Russell died. Some of it is incomparably the best ever written." The Pittsburgh Gazette said: "What the Brothers Grimm did, taking from the lips of unlettered peasants the folk-tales of the fore-time, and setting them down for the delight of children in all ages, has been done by Martha Young in her 'Plantation Bird Songs.' Several of her songs have been set to music by noted composers, and enjoy wide popularity. Miss Young's next book was in an entirely different vein, for it was a child's book, entitled 'Somebody's Little Girl.' This was pronounced by the reviewers a most pleasing and perfect picture of a child's mind and heart. This book, with her quaint legends, gave its author a place with the children by the side of Uncle Remus. Her other books are 'Fifty Folk-lore Tales' and 'In a Southern Garden.' In another realm Miss Young has won high encomiums, for she is acknowledged as peculiarly gifted in the oral interpretation of her own productions. Her rendering of the negro dialect has been pronounced well-nigh perfect, and her readings in general give delight to both cultivated and popular audiences. Whether to a fashionable audience at the Waldorf-Astoria, a scholarly gathering in some university hall, to children in the public schools, or to a general audience, she brings fun and pathos, universal satisfaction and pleasure. A part of the impression she makes is due to her graceful, petite and attractive person. Her manners are charming, her conversation brilliant. Miss Young has spent most of her life in her home in the little town of Greensboro, Alabama, but she has given to it variety by years in college, seasons in New York, and travels abroad. She is an ardent lover of nature, living much in the open, in the full enjoyment of riding and driving. There is not a wild flower of our woods and fields that she does not know and love. Aume Reese Locke MY LADY'S BANJO From 'Plantation Songs for My Lady's Banjo and Other Negro Lyrics and Monologues,' New York, R. H. Russell, 1901. Take you this tinkling instrument, To the most sentimental sigh 'Tis not a thing for serenades No whit cares it for vows or tears; Yet to the maid of Africa, The ebon maid of Zanzibar, Its twanging measures might suggest For hear the dusky lover sing, THE WORLD'S HYMN From 'Plantation Songs for My Lady's Banjo and Other Negro Lyrics and Monologues,' New York, R. H. Russell, 1901. Oh, in dat awful day De moon in blood 'll drip away, Wile winds will arise, Rise wid breaf of all dat dies. What will de Sinner-man do dat Day? He will go to his home to be driven away Driven away! Driven away! Skies gittin' grey wid gloom: John sweeps hit far and nigh, Sweeps de stars from out de sky. What will de Elder-man do dat Day? He will go to his home and dey 'll ax him to stay— Ax him to stay! Ax him to stay! In dat one hour Day |