 | Walden's Sacred Poems |  |
INTRODUCTION.
Islay Walden, the author of this little book of poems, was born a slave in North Carolina.
He is now a student in the Theological Seminary at New Brunswick, N. J.
As the story of his struggles can not fail to commend him to the sympathy and encouragement of all who admire perseverance and a strong christian faith, and may give additional interest to the perusal of his “poems” a brief sketch of his life is here given.
His youth was passed on different North Carolina plantations; he having been sold from the auction block several times—twice while an infant in his mother's arms. His duties were the usual ones assigned to young slaves—house work, the lighter kinds of field work, &c.—until he discovered a remarkable talent to which he gives the Yankee term of “reckoning.” The possession of this talent was as mysterious as that of “Blind Tom's” for music, as he had received no instruction and could not explain his mental processes. This faculty gained him the favor of his master and he was often called in to “show off” before company—his master generally betting on his ability to solve problems proposed.
His first poem was called forth by the death of an ox, which was thrown into the shaft of a
He died quick,
He died all in a minute:
Here is a shaft thirty feet,
And we have thrown him in it.
And he is dead.
The buzzards may forsake him;
For he is buried thirty feet
Where they can never get him.”
His master said, “Walden, you are a poet.” “What is a poet?” answered Walden. “One who writes poetry,” and this also had to be explained by referring to the hymns which Walden knew, as examples of poetry.
Soon after this came the news of Lee's surrender. Walden was working at a mine when his master came riding by, and calling out to him, said, “Islay, have you heard the news?” “No, sir,” said Islay, “what is the news?” “Well, you are free,—Lee has surrendered to Grant.”
It had been the wish of his mother that he should become a minister, and as his own convictions of duty pointed in the same direction, he lost no time, now that he was his own master, in starting on his long walk northward determined to get an education. It was in the middle of winter, and snow fell almost every day for weeks; he was poorly clad and without money, and finally became sick and was compelled to take refuge in Richmond hospital where he was confined several weeks. But, still undiscouraged, he pressed on to Washington.
But his labors in Washington were not all selfish. He established Sunday Schools in the most vicious neighborhoods where hundreds of the poor and degraded colored children were gathered. His labors in this direction are warmly commended by a christian gentleman then in the office of Paymaster General of the War Department, and by others prominent in christian work. While on his way through Pennsylvania, after leaving Washington he hit upon a new device for earning money. He committed to memory several chapters of a text book on anatomy. Then on his arrival in a town he would announce a lecture on Anatomy and Hygiene, which he would generally deliver in the open air, sometimes in small churches and halls. After the lecture he would take up a collection and sell his poems of which he now had quite a number. In this way he sustained himself, travelling through Pennsylvania and New Jersey as far as New Brunswick, where it was his fortune to fall into good hands. Through the efforts of one of the Professors of Rutgers College, a promise of pecuniary aid was obtained from the Second Reformed Church, and Walden returned to Washington and entered Howard University where he completed the course of instruction. He is now, as before stated, attending the Theological Seminary of the Reformed Church at New Brunswick, N. J.
I have gleaned these few facts from Walden's own narrative as the ones most likely to be of interest to the indulgent reader; and, I may add, my daily observation of his character for the past year has left no doubt in my mind of their strict truthfulness. His story and his future work alike appeal to the generosity of all who wish well to his race.
| Walden's Sacred Poems | |