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Lebanon, Ohio
June 5, 1887
Miss Callie Malone,
Dear Sister:
I wrote to Ella this morning while waiting in the Depot. I write to you
now because I will start early in the morning for Boston, and will be
traveling a day or two, consequently will not have another opportunity
of writing soon.
While at Cincinnati we found that we could not visit the Zoological Gardens
until 1 p.m. So taking a walk up the street, we saw a very fine building
into which people were crowding. I supposed it to be a church and induced
my lady Friend to go with me. On entering we soon found it to be a catholic
church.
You were never in such a place were you? Well, I wish I could bring the
picture of it all to your mind as it is now before my mind’s eye.
The building was very beautiful inside. The altar was very beautiful,
and reminded me of the picture of the cathedral at Milan (you’ve
seen this picture often in geographies). The many beautiful candles burning
like so many stars, and the statues of angels, and paintings of the Savior
(I didn’t notice any of the virgin Mary) made me feel, especially
after the wonderful music had commenced, that we were in the house of
God. The respect with which the catholics enter their church and deport
themselves after being in is a rebuke to us.
They cross themselves on entering the door, and bend the knee on entering
their pews and remain on their knees some time after entering. All is
quiet and ordered. Six boys with white upper garments and black skirts
entered three on each side of the priest who had in addition to a black
cap upon his bald head, a tallow stiff covering for his back, very much
resembling a turtle shell. I shall not attempt to describe the various
bows, movements and &c they went through, nor the unintelligible muttering,
which would bring to your mind the “moanings” of our own negroes.
Another priest, escorted by two other boys, ascended the pulpit, which
resembled a very fine judge’s stand at some fair, and which was
located on the right of the house. He preached a pretty dry sermon in
English of about 30 or 35 minutes duration. Seeing a man take a basket
with a long stick handle to it and commence to pass through the house,
we concluded it was time to go back to the station and eat some dinner.
Our food by the way costs just about half what it would in Memphis.
But you see I’m getting sleepy and I’ve already written four
pages, so you must be content with a short description of the Zoo. You’ve
been in a show? Well, this is a very big show. bears, foxes, kangaroos,
Llamas, Emus, Esquimo dog, deer, seals, snakes. Every kind of carnivorous
animals from little baby leopards to the great king of beasts. Birds of
all kinds, and Monkeys (would without end!). Buffaloes, Zebras &c
&c. By the bye one of the Zebras came close to the fence. I gave him
some grass and he felt so grateful that he gave me the invitation to stroke
him, which I did gladly, and few strands of his mane is now in my pocket
book as an evidence that I’ve had my hand on a real live Zebra.
I didn’t try to stroke the hyena nor insist on shaking hands with
the monkeys. We were in the gardens over two hours yet we never had time
to stay longer, even if we had strength enough to have walked further.
The great pleasure in visiting the gardens is in seeing the animals in
a state of nature. The bears in the trees, the pelicans in the pond, &c
&c.
You will excuse me if I quit off right here by saying that Mr Holbrook
met us at the depot and escorted us to the lyceum a large building we
now lodge in. He has been very attentive to us. But I must wait until
I get back from my trip to the east before I can tell you much about Mr
Holbrook or the school. I am well pleased with what I have seen.
You can show this letter to all our friends and relations as a sign of
my good will to them all.
F. M. Malone
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Lebanon, Ohio, July 3, 1887
Miss Callie Malone
My dear Sister;
I received letters from you and Ella. I appreciate them so much. I love
to hear from home. I am almost persuaded to take the Appeal in order to
know what is going on in my own country. I feel like I am in a foreign
land now. I am becoming more reconciled to my new situation. I have oh!
such an “appetite.” We have had corn bread only once and that
was not very well cooked. It is cheaper to buy bakers bread than to have
warm corn bread. But maybe you would like to know just what a man gets
to eat for the price of 6 cents per meal? This is a pretty good average:
Breakfast: coffee (not quite as strong as aqua fortes”), oatmeal
(a little sour), a piece of meat (a little over one inch square), irish
potatoes and good baker’s bread and manf. butter. These last three
articles are always on the table and you can eat just as much of them
as you want, but the other articles, except oatmeal, are furnished in
the limits now. We have for dinner in addition to bread, butter, potatoes,
English peas or butter beans, rice, a small piece of pie or custard, and
plenty of pure (hard) water. Occasionally we have ice cream instead of
pie. Molasses you find on the table about twice a day and prunes are always
given at supper, with a dish of crackers. So you see we have something
of a variety at least. But my phrenological man has advised me to drink
milk (I wish I could) instead of tea (which by the way we must certainly
have a supper) or coffee and to eat lean meat, but no butter or sugar.
Now what is a poor man in my fix supposed to do?
We eat in the basement under the university building. There about one
hundred and twenty in this shift. You may come as soon as the university
bell rings and take your seat at your own little table with your three
companions, but you must sit still and let your mouth water till all have
been helped and then when the bell rings you may be sure the noise of
knives forks &c make a noise like an earthquake in a crockery shop.
My three companions are Miss Fannie, Mrs. Edwards, and a little red headed
girl that turns up her nose at everything on the table, like she had been
used to better grub. I wish she would go to where she could get better
by paying but a little more money. I have been very particular to tell
you about my eating, because I knew you would like to know what a club
is. Our steward, who by the way is one of the students, announced that
after today we would have thanks returned before we commenced to eat.
I think this would make us all feel like we were more at home.
Last night we listened to a lecture by Mr Holbrook of Chicago on the subject
of “Wit and Humor.” Prof Heber Holbrook introduced him thus:
“Ladies & Gentlemen, this is my cousin Zeph.” Of course
this produced a roar of laughter. He (the speaker) defined very clearly
the difference between wit and humor and illustrated his lecture by telling
very many funny things. I laughed very heartily and so did every one else,
when he told of the man who went in a restaurant and when the waiter brought
him a very small piece of meat he said, “Yes, mam, bring me some
just like that.”
I will go to the Cumberland Church tonight to hear cousin Zeph preach.
I attended S. S. at church today. The lesson written in outline on the
board: “What Christ said about himself.” What do you think
of that! It is not a good way to study the Bible. ZI must now quit writing
for I must go to the Methodist S.S. which meets at 1:30 p.m. Prof Heber
as he is called is our teacher. We have in each Bible class about 50 members.
A question is asked and those only who snap their fingers (like the children
in my school) are called up to answer the questions. The teachers themselves
understand the Bible and are fitted for teaching. Prof Heber Holbrook,
the son of Pres. Alfred Holbrook, is a very able man. He teaches mathematics
very much like Col. Harris. He just drives facts into a fellow, by repeating
and repeating again. He is the life of the school. I wish you could hear
him read and explain the scriptures and then pray at “Gen Ex.”
He reads one or two verses from the Bible “Blessed are they that
mourn &c” and gives a practical illustration of what that means
and prays about 2 minutes (on an average), prays just like he was talking
to God. The “Old Prof.” as he is familiarly called, has undoubtedly
seen his day. He has a training class, and a grammar class, neither of
which I am in. He is quite tiresome at times. But he knows how to interest
a class. But his memory is always failing him when it should not. The
old gentleman can not and perhaps never could teach mathematics, like
his son Heber, nor science like Dr. McBride: yet he has the advantage
of being above average in all the branches. In other words, he is a teacher
not only but a man, a sincere man, a Christian man. But his best work
is done. There is evidence all over the town of Lebanon that there is
and has been a large school here that has had the effect of building up
the whole town. While I do not receive instruction directly from him,
yet I shall always be glad that I had the privilege of seeing and talking
with, the abolitionist, the Connecticut school teacher, Alfred Holbrook.
I believe we have had no rain here since I came back from Boston (2 weeks),
but it is very cloudy and threatening now. I am now taking a writing lesson
from 5:30 to 6:30 a.m. I don’t suppose you see any improvement in
my writing however. this of course necessitates my rising at least by
5 and after reciting Trigonometry at 7 a.m. Geology at 1:30 p.m. and Botany
at 3:30 and German at 7:15 I think you’ll agree I’m likely
to get the value of my $9 tuition. But no one knows how prone I am to
cheat myself of the requisite number of hours of sleep, by sitting up
too late. I believe that I told you before that I took Drawing. All of
these classes keep my just one hour each. Now I may venture to tell you
a little bit of bad news. Someone stole my box of drawing instruments.
Of course I don’t know who did it, but I strongly suspect it was
my room mate who I am happy to say has left for his home in Indiana. Among
the 800 people we have here from everywhere in the U.S. it is nothing
but reasonable to expect that a thief now and then gets in.
The more I know the Yankees the better I like them. They have many traits,
however, that I don’t admire. The yankee girls are not all ugly;
some of them are very much like the Southern type. But the majority are
coarse, some masculine looking. Most of them have lots of common sense,
as well as book learning. Quite a number of students speak to me on the
street that I don’t know. Especially nearly all the members of my
German class who salute me as “Her Malone.” I know most of
them as there are not more than sixteen in the class. I would write you
more if I knew what interested you. You need not expect to get a letter
oftener than once a week now. I received letters from Mr. Wright and Dick
Watson.
Your brother.
F. M. Malone
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Palmer House, Toronto, 5 August. 1887
Mr. Robert F. Malone
Dear Bobbie:
I received your letter a few days ago, I was glad to get it. I hardly
know what to say about your going to Missouri. It does seem that the opening
is a good one. I am satisfied that there is as you say a better day in
store for you. When that day comes and how it will come depends in a great
measure upon your own will. I am not much of a believer in luck, especially
bad luck. I frequently have cause to think that I am “lucky.”
But in most cases I am able to time it to some caution of premeditation
on my part. And when I come to conclude that I am “unfortunate”
it can be traced to neglect or want of strict attention to business.
The reason we happen to be located at one of the best hotels in Toronto
at a very reasonable charge is that we became acquainted with a Canadian
lady, Mrs. Dr. Wild, who told us where to go, besides giving us other
points.
But to return. I am Satisfied that you are not doing the good that you
can do. Your capacities are varied enough to permit you to follow several
other employments to greater advantage than you do the plow. There is
no disgrace, but rather honor, in working like a Negro in the field. And
if your tastes and aspirations led in that direction you should follow
them. When I told Bro. Will that school teachers never had any money his
advice was: “Do what you think is your duty money or no money.”
Bro. Jim’s idea was that” it mattered little what was your
pursuit so you followed it closely – assiduously – you would
then be found suited to your profession.” I think they were both
right. And to these two opinions let me add a third, advanced by our old
marble cutter in Grand Junction. He put it thus: “What is it that
every body is seeking? Ans: An easy place – an agreeable vocation.
What is an easy place? Ans: The business you understand the best.”
There seems to be some philosophy in this.
I believe there is an easy place for you. A place in which you can “work
like a Negro” and rather enjoy it, too. I see the bustle and stir
of these hardy northerners contrasted with the neglect of our people,
as explanation enough to me for “Southern wealth and Northern profits.”
The Southern people are in no way inferior to the Yankees. I rather believe
then a little superior. And I believe that we will yet get our heads above
water. If we can not turn over the stone at one effort we must not despair.
Time and patience are as necessary as strength; but determination or will
force is after all the steam that moves the otherwise dead elements of
necessary machinery. Let us have some decided goal to be ever so far ahead
if we will but keep our general direction toward it. When we must stop
let us not through weakness turn back. If the Philistines are before us,
the Egyptians are behind us. Then let us go forward.
The hopeful tone of your letter made me feel good. Hope is the forerunner
of belief. Belief must go before determination. Determination is the father
of success. I am in quite a strain for philosophizing this evening. I’ll
try to restrain myself and simply tell something of what we saw.
This is the largest excursion of the season perhaps for several reasons.
There were 57 car loads of us landed at Niagara yesterday (60 to the car!)
– over 3000 souls. This is a good crowd. You may be sure many of
them were rough men and women drinking together with negroes.
To a real sensitive man or timid woman an excursion is not really cheap.
It would pay them to get a palace car. So far as myself is concerned,
I was intensely interested in the actions of the crowd. In the rush for
the train at Cincinnati our party got separated. A man and two ladies
in one coach, two boys in another and about midway with several coaches
intervening I found half a seat. I tried to keep with both parties or
rather to get them together. I succeeded after a fashion, in passing through
the coaches I saw all sorts of figures, faces, and actions. It’s
next to impossible to sleep on an excursion train, but being able to sleep,
I didn’t “low” for anybody else to sleep about me. If
you remember our antics at the Lake, you may have an idea of what I mean.
We had lots of fun. I pretended to sleep at times, just to avoid talking
to one of the women who was frightened every time a man cursed or a woman
took a drink. Yes, I was tickled. At one point in our journey I smelt
a very disagreeable odor. I thought that we were passing a dead carcass
perhaps, or it was only a tannery, soap factory, laundry – well,
no, I thought it was a worse scent than any of these. My partner, a little
dried up red haired man who called himself a crime lawyer, directed my
attention to a family who sat opposite eating what I took to be bread
and butter. But which he explained to me was limburger cheese. I shall
never forget limburger cheese and if I ever desire to die a violent death,
I suppose this cheese would finish me up.
I supposed the family was German. Here was a good opportunity for me to
try my hand on my acquirement of German. So I extended a question in German.
He answered very readily – too readily for me. He not only told
me that was his boy, but proceeded to tell me about all his children,
“his woman” & kinfolks in general, and asking me all sorts
of questions. So I had to own up “Nicht farstahe, nicht farstahe.
Deutch sehe gut.” But I felt proud that I could make him understand
me – if I couldn’t understand much of his talk. He was a Polander.
Excursions are exceptions to all general rules.
So we were behind time in getting to Niagara. The first sight of the falls
made me feel like I had come too far to see it. But after I had passed
to the American side (I) went on Goat Island, and washed my feet in the
rapids crossed over to several little islands, and came back and looked
again. I began to think it was right smart of a branch – in other
words its sublimity dawned upon me by degrees. But my admiration was overwhelmed
with awe when I went down the ledge and stood under the falls. We paid
a $1.00 to go under the falls through the Cave of the Winds as it is called.
I thought then, when I was struggling with all my strength to get my breath,
crawling along the slimy rocks, not able to see anything, hearing nothing
but the mighty roar of waters, that I was a fool, yes, anybody was a fool
for going in such a dangerous place. I would like to go back. But that
was next to impossible. It was enough that I could breathe and try to
follow down the rocky sides. I could not think of climbing upward again.
I would never advise anyone who is not strong and venturesome to undertake
the journey. The same spirit that prompts the person who walks over the
river on a tight rope, prompts people to go under the falls. Knowing my
own want of strength, I took hold of a large 200 pound fellow who was
in our crowd to give me support. We had not gone far, before his heart
sank and shook me off and went back. So I concluded that strength of body
was not so necessary as strength of will.
The falls can not be described, because there is nothing in nature to
which we can compare it. It can not be painted, no more than can the rainbow.
The best I can do is to simply tell you how it made me feel. I suppose
there never was a man, of good mind, regretted spending Money to et to
see it. We took our last view of it this morning. We went from the falls
to Niagara City (8 miles). We here took a steamer across Lake Ontario
to this place. We were out of sight of land for a long time. I never felt
any strange feeling. Our trip was delightful. But the weather has been
oppressive all day till late this afternoon when it has been raining nearly
all day since. We have been resting. I’ll try to write Ma or someone
about the rest of my journey. Let the home folks see this, and save the
letters. We will leave here tomorrow evening, will get to Cincinnati about
6 a.m. Sunday. By the way, I saw Estelle & Verney (Brother Jim’s
wife and daughter) on my way through Cincinnati. I am glad to hear from
you often. I hope to leave Lebanon for home about the 14th.
Yr Bro
F. M. Malone
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