A Negro Woman's Heroism.

Oamaru Mail, Volume XXIII, Issue 7213, 18 May 1898, Page 4

A Negro Woman's Heroism.

A PATHETIC STORY. There has been.herpißm since, the. world begari,'bnt there is nb heroism-sq gra'nd M ;; thafc : Whi6ti¥p'rings fr¥m z lbyal love;" J The desire for the praise • of the world may make a man a hero,, but it will never give him the kind.of heroism stiown'one stormy night some ten yeara : ago. -It was only the act of „an old colored woman, forlorn and hungry, dripping with rain, but itlived for years iii the memory of one who saw it, and constrained him at last- to tell it to the world. ■ It was during a'great flood in a district of the Alabama River, when' the negroes on the river plantations suffered much, and often barely escaped with their lives. The cabins would be under water before the occupants were fairly aware, of their danger, and they would huddle together —hundreds of them on some knoll elevation a little above the surrounding water. - - Sometimes they remained two. or three daysand nights without food, and exposed to a soaking rain, till help was sent from neighbouring towns. One day news came, that the negroes on a certain plantation had taken refuge, on an old corn barn, and • were in extreme danger. The writer was one of three men who went in a boat to their assistance. Darkness was _ settling. down when the barn was reached, but it was not too dark to see the mass of black humanity sitting upon the ridge. A heavy rain added to the peril and discomfort of the waiting company. In perfect silence they watched the approach of the boat till it struck against the frail log structure, which shook and tottered with the weight of water that reached up to the edge of the roof. Then the poor creatures began to clamber down eagerly. . , " Stop " ! commanded the leader of the company. "The women and children must come first." Without a murmur the men resumed their seats, and first the children, and then the women Were got into the boat. When they were all in the boat was full. Promising to return as quickly as possible, the rescuers were about to push off, when a very old woman, who had been the last to enter the boat, and had done it reluctantly, seized the corner of the barn, and, looking anxiously into the face of the leader, said, " Mirster, ain't yon gwiue to take my ole man 1" " No, aunty," was the answer. '' The boat is too fu'l now. He must wait till we come back." The words were hardly spoken, when, with a sudden spring, she .was up on the. roof again. In shook as she scrambled on ib and took her seat by the side of a withered old man, whose hand she held as if afraid of being taken from him by force, *' Come, aunty ! " was the expostulation. "We can't leave you here, arid we can't wait any longer." "Go on, marster," she answered. " I thanks -you," en I pray de good Lawd to fetch you all safe home ; but I am gwine to stay wid my ole man. Ef Simou got to get drownded, Lydd gwin get drownded, too. We done been togedder too long to part now." And she held tightly to the hand of her "ole man," and watched the rescuers as they threw out blankets and provisions, and did what they could for the comfort of the group, who were, they felt, almost certain, doomed to perish in the flood bebore help could come to them. As the boat moved off into the rain and the night, a high cracked voice, tremulous with age and still more with the strain of fear and exposure, was heard across the water from the crib. The rowers rested on their oars and" listened to the song. It came clear and distinct, First Lydia's trembling tones, and then a chorus of a dozen or more of deep bass voices : We're clinging to de ark, Take us in, take us in, Fur de watah's deep en' dark, Take us in, take us in.

The voices grew fainter and fainter as the rowers plied their oars, until a Bilence fell over'the water ; but each rower still saw the old withered face, transformed by the love that shone in it, as Lydia settled herself by Simon's side, determined that "Ef Simon got to get drowned, Lyddy gwine get drowned too." But the beating of the brave heart was not to be stilled by those swirling waters. The rescuing party met another boat coming coming on a like errand, and directed the occupants to the corn barn. As the last man scrambled into the boat, the building that had apparently been held down only by the weight of those who had clung to its ridge, began to rock, and then tumbled over arid floated away. Bub Lydia and her "ola man" were safe. The rowers of the second boat said afterwards that they knew when they were nearing the crib by the sound of an old women's voice singing : " Da Lawdishyah'd our cry," answered by the men, " Take us in, take us in."