Immediately after the Rebellion ceased, the freedmen throughout the South, desiring no doubt to be fully satisfied that they were actually free and their own masters, and could go where they pleased, left their homes in the country and took up their abode in the cities and towns. This, as a matter of course, threw them out of business, and large numbers could be seen idly lolling about the steps of the court house, town hall, or other county buildings, or listlessly wandering through the streets. That they were able to do this seemed to them positive evidence that they were really free. It was not long, however, before they began to discover that they could not live without work, and that the only labor that they understood was in the country on the plantations. Consequently they returned to the farms, and in many instances to their former masters. Yet the old love for visiting the cities and towns remained, and they became habituated to leaving their work on Saturdays, and going to the place nearest to them. This caused Saturday to be called “nigger day,” in most of the Southern States.

On these occasions they sell their cotton or other produce, do their trading, generally having two jugs, one for the molasses, the other for the whiskey, as indispensible to the visit. The store-keepers get ready on Saturday morning, putting their brightest and most gaudy-colored goods in the windows or on the front of their counters. Jew shops put their hawkers at their doors, and the drinking saloons, billiard saloons, and other places of entertainment, kept for their especial accommodation, either by men of their own race or by whites, are all got ready for an extra run.

Being on a visit to the State of Alabama, for a while, I had a fair opportunity of seeing the colored people in that section under various circumstances. It was in the autumn and I was at Huntsville. The principal business houses of the city are situated upon a square which surrounds the court house, and at an early hour in the morning this is filled with colored people of all classes and shades. On Saturdays there are often fully two thousand of them in the streets at one time. At noon the throng was greatest, and up to that time fresh wagon-loads of men, women, and children, were continually arriving. They came not only in wagons, but on horses, and mules, and on foot. Their dress and general appearance were very dissimilar. Some were dressed in a queer looking garment made of pieces of old army blankets, a few were apparelled in faded military overcoats, which were liberally supplied with patches of other material. The women, unlike their husbands and other male relations, were dressed in finery of every conceivable fashion. All of them were decked out with many-colored ribbons. They wore pinchbeck jewelry in large quantities. A few of the young girls displayed some little taste in the arrangement of their dress; and some of them wore expensive clothes. These, however, were “city niggers,” and found but little favor in the eyes of the country girls. As the farmers arrived they hitched their tumble-down wagons and bony mules near the court house, and then proceeded to dispose of the cotton and other products which they had brought to town.

While the men are selling their effects, the women go about from store to store, looking at the many gaudy articles of wearing apparel which cunning shop-keepers have spread out to tempt their fancy. As soon as “the crop” is disposed of, and a negro farmer has money in his pocket, his first act is to pay the merchant from whom he obtained his supplies during the year. They are improvident and ignorant sometimes, but it must be said, to their credit, that as a class they always pay their debts, the moment they are in a position to do so. The country would not be so destitute if a larger number of white men followed their example in this respect. When they have settled up all their accounts, and arranged for future bills, they go and hunt up their wives, who are generally on the look-out. They then proceed to a dining saloon, call for an expensive meal, always finishing with pies, puddings, or preserves, and often with all three. When they have satisfied their appetites, they go first to the dry-goods stores. Here, as in other shops, they are met by obsequious white men, who conduct them at once to a back or side room, with which most of the stores are supplied. At first I could not fathom the mystery of this ceremony. After diligent inquiry, however, I discovered that, since the war, unprincipled store-keepers, some of them northern men, have established the custom of giving the country negroes, who come to buy, as much whiskey as they wish to drink. This is done in the back rooms I have mentioned, and when the unfortunate black men and women are deprived of half their wits by the vile stuff which is served out to them, they are induced to purchase all sorts of useless and expensive goods.

In their soberest moments average colored women have a passion for bright, colored dresses which amounts almost to madness, and, on such occasions as I have mentioned, they never stop buying until their money is exhausted. Their husbands have little or no control over them, and are obliged, whether they will or not, to see most of their hard earnings squandered upon an unserviceable jacket, or flimsy bonnet, or many-colored shawl. I saw one black woman spend upward of thirty dollars on millinery goods. As she received her bundle from the cringing clerk she said, with a laugh:

“I ’clare to the Lord I’se done gone busted my old man, sure.”

“Never mind,” said the clerk, “he can work for more.”

“To be sure,” answered the woman, and then flounced out of the store.

The men are but little better than the women in their extravagance. I saw a man on the square who had bargained for a mule, which he very much needed, and which he had been intending to purchase as soon as he sold his cotton. He agreed to pay fifty-seven dollars for the animal, and felt in his pocket for the money, but could find only sixteen dollars. Satisfying himself that he had no more, he said:

“Well, well, ef dis ain’t de most stravagant nigger I ever see; I sole two bales of cotton dis bressed day, an’ got one hundred and twenty-two dollars, an’ now I is got only dis.” Here he gave a loud laugh and said:

“Ole mule, I want you mighty bad, but I’ll have to let you slide dis time.”

While the large dealers were selling their products and emptying their wagons, those with vegetables and fruits were vending them in different sections of the city. A man with a large basket upon his head came along through one of the principal streets shouting:

“Hellow, dar, in de cellar, I is got fresh aggs, jess fum de hen, lay ’em dis mornin’ fer de ’casion; here dey is, big hen’s aggs, cheap. Now’s yer time. Dees aggs is fresh an’ good, an’ will make fuss-rate agg-nog. Now’s yer time fer agg-nogg wid new aggs in it; all laid dis mornin’.” Here he set down his basket as if to rest his head. Seeing a colored servant at one of the windows, he called out:

“Here, sister, here’s de fresh aggs; here dey is, big aggs fum big hen, much as she could do to lay ’em. Now’s yer time; don’t be foolish an’ miss dis chance.”

Just then, a man with a wagon-load of stuff came along, and his voice completely shut out the man with “de fresh aggs.”

“Here,” cried he, “here’s yer nice winter squash, taters,—Irish taters, sweet taters, Carliner taters. Big House, dar, Big House, look out de winder; here’s yer nice cabbages, taters, sweet taters, squash. Now’s yer time to get ’em cheap. To-morrow is Christmas, an’ yer’ll want ’em, shore.”

The man with the basket of eggs on his head, and who had been silenced by the overpowering voice of the “tater” man, called out to the other, “Now, I reckon yer better go in anudder street. I’s been totin’ dees aggs all day, an’ I don’t get in nobody’s way.”

“I want to know, is dis your street?” asked the “tater” man.

“No; but I tank de Lord, I is got some manners ’bout me. But, den, I couldn’t speck no more fum you, fer I knowed you afore de war; you was one of dem cheap niggers, clodhopper, never taste a bit of white bread till after de war, an’ den didn’t know ’twas bread.”

“Well, den, ef you make so much fuss ’bout de street, I’ll go out of it; it’s nothin’ but a second-handed street, no how,” said the “tater” man, and drove off, crying, “taters, sweet taters, Irish taters, an’ squash.”

Passing into a street where the colored people are largely represented, I met another head peddler. This man had a tub on his head and with a musical voice was singing:—

“Here’s yer chitlins, out of good fat hog; jess as sweet chitlins as ever yer see. Dees chitlins will make yer mouf water jess to look at ’em. Come an’ see ’em.”

At this juncture the man took the tub from his head, sat it down, to answer a woman who had challenged his right to call them “Baptist chitlins.”

“Duz you mean to say dat dem is Baptiss chitlins?”

“Yes, mum, I means to say dat dey is real Baptist chitlins, an’ nuffin’ else.”

“Did dey come out of a Baptiss hog?” inquired the woman.

“Yes, mum, dem chitlins come out of a Baptist hog.”

“How duz you make dat out?”

“Well, yer see, dat hog was raised by Mr. Roberson, a hard-shell Baptist, de corn dat de hog was fatted on was also raised by Baptists, he was killed and dressed by Geemes Boone, an’ you all know dat he’e as big a Baptist as ever lived.”

“Well,” said the woman, as if perfectly satisfied, “lem-me have two poun’s.”

By the time the man had finished his explanation, and weighed out her lot, he was completely surrounded with women and men, nearly all of whom had their dishes to get the choice morsel in.

“Now,” said a rather solid-looking man. “Now, I want some of de Meth-diss chitlins dat you’s bin talking ’bout.”

“Here dey is, ser.”

“What,” asked the purchaser, “you take ’em all out of de same tub?”

“Yes,” quickly replied the vender.

“Can you tell ’em by lookin’ at ’em?” inquired the chubby man.

“Yes, ser.”

“How duz you tell ’em?”

“Well, ser, de Baptist chitlins has bin more in de water, you see, an’ dey’s a little whiter.”

“But, how duz I know dat dey is Meth-diss?”

“Well, ser, dat hog was raised by Uncle Jake Bemis, one of de most shoutin’ Methodist in de Zion connection. Well, you see, ser, de hog pen was right close to de house, an’ dat hog was so knowin’ dat when Uncle Jake went to prayers, ef dat hog was squeelin’ he’d stop. Why, ser, you could hardly get a grunt out of dat hog till Uncle Jake was dun his prayer. Now, ser, ef dat don’t make him a Methodist hog, what will?”

“Weigh me out four pounds, ser.”

“Here’s your fresh chitlins, Baptist chitlins, Methodist chitlins, all good an’ sweet.”

And in an hour’s time the peddler, with his empty tub upon his head, was making his way out of the street, singing,—

Hearing the colored cotton-growers were to have a meeting that night, a few miles from the city, and being invited to attend, I embraced the opportunity. Some thirty persons were assembled, and as I entered the room, I heard them chanting—

The church filled up; the meeting was well conducted, and measures taken to protect cotton-raisers, showing that these people, newly-made free, and uneducated, were looking to their interests.

Paying a flying visit to Tennessee, I halted at Columbia, the capital of Maury County. At Redgerford Creek, five miles distant from Columbia, lives Joe Budge, a man with one hundred children. Never having met one with such a family, I resolved to make a call on the gentleman and satisfy my own curiosity.

This distinguished individual is seventy-one years old, large frame, of unadulterated blood, and spent his life in slavery up to the close of the war.

“How many children have you, Mr. Budge?” I asked.

“One hundred, ser,” was the quick response.

“Are they all living?”

“No, ser.”

“How many wives had you?”

“Thirteen, ser.”

“Had you more than one wife living at any time?”

“O, yes, ser, nearly all of dem ware livin’ when de war broke out.”

“How was this, did the law allow you to have more than one wife at a time?”

“Well, yer see, boss, I waren’t under de law, I ware under marser.”

“Were you married to all of your wives by a minister?”

“No, ser, only five by de preacher.”

“How did you marry the others?”

“Ober de broomstick an’ under de blanket.”

“How was that performed?”

“Well, yer see, ser, dey all ’sembles in de quarters, an’ a man takes hold of one en’ of de broom an’ a ’oman takes hole of tudder en’, an’ dey holes up de broom, an’ de man an’ de ’oman dats gwine to get married jumps ober an’ den slips under a blanket, dey put out de light an’ all goes out an’ leabs em dar.”

“How near together were your wives?”

“Marser had fore plantations, an’ dey live ’bout on ’em, dem dat warn’t sold.”

“Did your master sell some of your wives?”

“O! yes, ser, when dey got too ole to bare children. You see, marser raised slaves fer de market, an’ my stock ware called mighty good, kase I ware very strong, an’ could do a heap of work.”

“Were your children sold away from you?”

“Yes, ser, I see three of ’em sole one day fer two thousand dollars a-piece; yer see dey ware men grown up.”

“Did you select your wives?”

“Dunno what you mean by dat word.”

“Did you pick out the women that you wanted?”

“O! no, ser, I had nuthin ter say ’bout dat. Marser allers get ’em, an’ pick out strong, hearty young women. Dat’s de reason dat de planters wanted to get my children, kase dey ware so helty.”

“Did you never feel that it was wrong to get married in such a light manner?”

“No, ser, kase yer see I toted de witness wid me.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Why, ser, I had religion, an’ dat made me feel dat all ware right.”

“What was the witness that you spoke of?”

“De change of heart, ser, is de witness dat I totes in my bosom; an’ when a man’s got dat, he fears nuthin, not eben de debble himsef.”

“Then you know that you’ve got the witness?”

“Yes, ser, I totes it right here.” And at this point, Mr. Budge put his hand on his heart, and looked up to heaven.

“I presume your master made no profession of religion?”

“O! yes, ser, you bet he had religion. He ware de fustest man in de church, an’ he ware called mighty powerful in prayer.”

“Do any of your wives live near you now, except the one that you are living with?”

“Yes, ser, dar’s five in dis county, but dey’s all married now to udder men.”

“Have you many grand-children?”

“Yes, ser, when my ’lations am all tergedder, dey numbers ’bout fore hundred, near as I ken get at it.”

“Do you know of any other men that have got as many children as you?”

“No, ser, dey calls me de boss daddy in dis part of de State.”

Having satisfied my curiosity, I bade Mr. Budge “good-day.”