said to practise the black art, our constitutions have nothing to say about the colour of a lawyer's skin.”
A coloured man can now be called to the Virginia
But the examples of such calling are so few as to appear like special wonders.
As a rule, the Negro is a toiler of the earth, content to be a toiler of the earth.
He hardly cares to rise.
He has no stinging wants.
If not a waiter in the house, he is a worker in the field.
In either case his labour is worth a fifth part of similar labour by a White man; yet his food of squash and green-corn is cheap, while he can live on the rewards of his unskilful and uncertain toil.
He understands the value of a dollar; it will buy him grapes and bacon, beans, whisky, and tobacco; but he cannot see the value of a second and third dollar, since he can do no more than eat, drink, chew, and smoke all day. The morrow is the future; and a Negro's life is in the passing hour.
One thing only in the future weighs sufficiently on a Negro's mind to shape his action.
He is very anxious about his funeral.
“What makes us poor,” says Bill, the waiter in my room, “is de expens ob buryina us.”