FLOYD’S FLOWERS OR DUTY AND BEAUTY FOR COLORED CHILDREN BEING ONE HUNDRED SHORT STORIES…

I FEEL A PROFOUNDER REVERENCE FOR A BOY THAN A MAN. I NEVER MEET A RAGGED BOY ON THE STREET WITHOUT FEELING THAT I OWE HIM A SALUTE, FOR I KNOW NOT WHAT POSSIBILITIES MAY BE BUTTONED UP UNDER HIS SHABBY COAT.

Gen. Samuel C. Armstrong.

PUBLISHER’S NOTE.

The publishers of this book have spared neither pains nor expense in trying to make it as nearly perfect as a book of this kind can be. The typographical appearance and the illustrations will speak for themselves.

We consider ourselves fortunate in having been able to secure the services of the Rev. Dr. Silas X. Floyd as the author of this volume. Mr. Floyd’s life work, aside from his literary training, has made him the ideal man to speak to the colored boys and girls of the South. Soon after graduating from Atlanta University in 1891, Mr. Floyd became Principal of a Public School at Augusta, Ga., and remained in that city for five years consecutively as a teacher. In June, 1896, he was called from the school room into the Sunday-school work, having been appointed by the International Sunday School Convention as one of its Field Workers throughout the South. He continued in this work for three years, retiring from it to become Pastor of Tabernacle Baptist Church, Augusta, Ga., one of the largest churches in the South. After a year and a half in the pastorate, he returned to the Sunday-school work, becoming Sunday-school Missionary for Georgia and Alabama under appointment of the American Baptist Publication Society. Two years ago, 6he re-entered the school room, and is now once

more Principal of a Public School at Augusta. His school is one of the largest in the State of Georgia.

Mr. Floyd’s work, as the record shows, has been conspicuously for and in behalf of the children, and he is known far and wide as a competent writer and speaker on topics concerning young people. He has contributed to the Sunday School Times, the International Evangel, the New York Independent, The World’s Work, Lippincott’s Magazine, and many other journals and periodicals. He is the author of a volume of sermons published by the American Baptist Publication Society and listed in their catalogue as among their standard works, and is also the author of the Life of the leading colored Baptist preacher in America, published by the National Baptist Publishing Board. From the beginning of the Voice of the Negro, Mr. Floyd has had charge of the Wayside Department as Editor, and his work as a humorist and writer of negro dialect is known to many through that medium.

In 1894, Atlanta University, his alma mater, conferred upon Mr. Floyd the degree of Master of Arts, and in 1902, Morris Brown College conferred upon him the degree of Doctor of Divinity.

THE PICTURES AND WHO MADE THEM

A distinctive feature of this volume is the inclusion of more than half a hundred of original drawings by a young artist. Every boy and every girl delights in pictures. There is something in pictures, even though the subjects be foreign to us, which readily takes hold of our innermost feelings and becomes companionable to the extent that we find ourselves loving that something whatever it is:—a man, or an humble dog, or an old homestead, or what not. We seldom think that some great mind has been hard at work to produce that picture and that it takes years and years of application and deep study to prepare even a genius in art.

While you are enjoying the pleasures to be derived from the “rough sketches” in this book it is hoped that at the same time you will catch the inspiration of the artist who made them. The negro race has produced very few artists of note, for very few of them have made a success in the profession. Of that few, John Henry Adams is second only to Tanner.

Coming up with little in his favor other than a determination to “win” and the prayerfulness of loving parents, John Adams kept himself in school until he was thoroughly prepared to enter upon life’s sea as a thinker for and a master of 8himself. Acquiring his art education at The Drexel Institute, Philadelphia, Adams returned to Atlanta and found a place to utilize his training at the Morris Brown College, where he has been eminently successful as a teacher, and where he is loved and honored by all.

The lapse of twenty-six years is a very short time to begin to measure a man’s success, but Mr. Adams has already succeeded. The demand for his work is large and plenteous. If there is such a thing as having more work than one can do, it applies pointedly to him. Besides the many fine and costly paintings which Mr. Adams makes and sells, his “rough sketches” are quite popular and “go like hot cakes.” And, with all of this he is a regular contributor to one daily paper, two weekly papers and a monthly magazine. This is but a glimpse of the man. His work as trustee of city charities, his visitations to mission houses and his liberal pocket-book show the more tender side of the artist. When a football game is in progress there’s another side of the man—the enthusiast. But all the way through Mr. Adams is ever the amiable gentleman, the vigorous thinker and worker, the friend of children and a constant source of gladness to the poor of Atlanta.

PREFACE.

Truly the boys and girls of to-day ought to be thankful that they are alive. There never was such a golden age for childhood and youth as the present. To say nothing of the rich opportunities for mental and spiritual development, what a multitude of things have been provided for the innocent pleasure, the wholesome recreation of the young people of to-day; inventions that remind one of the magic of the “Arabian Nights”; tools of sport so perfect that one cannot imagine how they could be bettered; fascinating games, all unknown in the days gone by; books and papers upon which science, art and literary skill have lavished modern resources—all these and many other wonderful things have fallen to the lot of the favored boys and girls of to-day.

And now enterprising publishers of our grand country are going to put the boys and girls of America—and especially the colored boys and girls of America—under obligation to them, because they have decided to add to the list of good books for children and youths already on the market. I use the word “good” advisedly; for from the day that I was engaged to write this book I have had in mind constantly the thought of making it such a book as would 10tell for good. It is an old saying that “evil communications corrupt good manners,” but evil reading does more than this: for evil reading corrupts good morals.

I have endeavored to put into this book of stories for children only such things as might be freely admitted into the best homes of the land, and I have written with the hope that many young minds may be elevated by means of these stories and many hearts filled with high and holy aspirations. Our nation has a right to expect that our boys and girls shall turn out to be good men and good women, and this book is meant to help in this process.

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

I. A SPELLING LESSON.

The boys and girls of Public School No. 10 were glad to have a new girl, whose name was Bertha Dent, enter their spelling class. The little girl’s mother told the teacher that the child could probably keep up with the First Grade in spelling, because she could spell such words as “dog” and “hog” and “cat” and “rat” and “bat.”

It was not a great while before the teacher called the spelling class. She asked Bertha, the new girl, to stand with the class.

“You may spell ‘dog,’ Mary,” said the teacher to one of the girls, “and tell us what kind of noise little dogs make.”

“D-o-g, dog,” said Mary, “and our little dog says ‘bow-wow-wow!’”

“That was very well done,” said the teacher. “Now, Annie, you may spell ‘cat,’ and tell us what kind of noise little kittens make.”

“C-a-t, cat,” replied Annie, “and the little kitties sometimes say ‘mew-mew,’ and when the little doggies come ’round they bristle up and hiss at the doggies.”

20“That’s very well,” responded the teacher. “Sadie, you may spell ‘bird,’ and tell us what the little birds do.”

“B-i-r-d, bird,” said Sadie. “We have a pretty mocking bird that sings for us all the time; most birds sing, but mama says there are some birds which are good to keep bugs and worms off the vegetables and flowers.”

A Spelling Class.

“That is correct,” the teacher made answer. “Now, Bertha Dent, you may spell ‘love’ for us, and tell us what love does.”

“Oh,” said the new pupil, “I know very well 21how to spell ‘love.’” And then Bertha ran to the teacher, threw her arms around the teacher’s neck, and gave her a sweet little kiss. “That is the way mama told me to spell ‘love,’” said Bertha quietly, while the teacher and all the members of the spelling class smiled.

That’s a Very Pretty Way to Spell “Love.”

22“That is a very pretty way to spell ‘love,’” said the teacher. “But don’t you know any other way to spell ‘love’?”

“Why, yes,” answered Bertha looking around. “I spell ‘love’ this way, too.” Then she brushed a fleck of dust from the teacher’s sleeve, picked up some papers that were scattered around on the platform and arranged them on the desk. She, also, pulled a tiny bit of thread off the teacher’s skirt. “I spell ‘love’” said Bertha, “by working for mama and papa and little brother, and trying to make everybody happy.”

The teacher drew the little girl close to her side, threw one arm around the child’s neck and said,——

“That is the very best way to spell ‘love’; but can’t you spell ‘love’ the way the book spells it?”

“Oh, yes,” said Bertha. “L-o-v-e, love.”

The teacher hugged Bertha, called her a dear little girl, and then dismissed the class.

II. THE TRUTH ABOUT LUCK.

“How Many Papers Have You Sold To-day, Tommy?”

This is a world of order and system. There is nothing haphazard about it. The sun rises and sets according to a regular and unchanging law. The tides come in and the tides go out not by accident or chance, but in accordance with well-defined laws. Winter and Summer, sunshine and rain, follow each other in well-ordered succession. What is true in the natural world is also true in the moral and business worlds. A boy reaps that which he sows and gains the prizes 24for which he is willing to pay the price in labor and self-denial. A divine law controls success and defeat in this life and no strategem or trick can take the place of hard work.

Some years ago, I happened to find myself near the terminal of the great East River Bridge in New York City. Two little boys were standing near one of the large iron posts crying their afternoon papers. I tarried near them because I was waiting for a particular car. One little fellow said to the other,——

“How many papers have you sold to-day, Tommie?”

“Nearly one hundred an’ fifty,” was Tommie’s quick reply.

“Honor bright?”

“Yes; honor bright.”

“Whoopee! but ain’t you in big luck, Tommie?”

“Luck!” exclaimed Tommie, wiping the perspiration from his brow. “There ain’t no luck about it; I’ve just been everlastingly at it since four o’clock this morning—that’s all!”

And that is the all of real success. Those who achieve success are “everlastingly at” what they are trying to do. Tommie was right in declining to have his hard and honest work cheapened by calling the result of it luck.

“You are the luckiest chap I ever saw,” I once heard a little boy about sixteen years say to another boy of about the same age.

25“Why do you say that?” asked the other.

“Because you have had your salary raised twice in the same year.”

“Well,” was the reply, “you may call it luck; but I don’t. I have always done my work the very best I knew how. I have never once in the whole year been a single minute late in getting to the office, nor have I ever left a single minute before it was time for me to leave. When I have worked over-time, I have not made any fuss about it. My boss said when he raised my salary last week that he had taken these things into account. So, I don’t see where the luck comes in.”

“All the same,” said the first boy, “some bosses wouldn’t have raised your salary.”

“Then I would have the satisfaction of knowing that I had done my duty.”

Boys, I tell you that’s right. Nine out of ten employers know that it is to their advantage to show appreciation of faithful work and they show it. When this appreciation comes luck has had nothing to do with it. The thing that passes for luck is in nearly all cases the just reward of honest endeavor.

Do not, therefore, start out in life with the expectation that some “lucky turn” will bring you sudden honor or wealth or position without any effort on your part. Substitute that fine old word “work” for that deceitful word “luck,” and base your hopes of future success and usefulness upon the honorable labor that it is a God-given 26privilege for every well and strong and right-minded boy to give his heart and hands to performing.

III. AN EVENING AT HOME.

Boys and girls between the ages of eleven and seventeen ought to spend their evenings at home, as much as possible. In these busy, bustling twentieth century days, there are many families—so much the worse for them—that scarcely know what it is to spend an evening at home together. Not only the young people but the older people are “on the go.” The evenings are crowded with calls and invitations, which come from far and near. It is nothing to go five or even ten miles to an evening concert or social gathering, the trolley is so near, so cheap and so universal. But I tell you, boys and girls, no matter what the pleasure or amusement afforded—no matter what the instruction or culture received—there are no social or similar opportunities good enough to displace the home circle. The sooner young people realize this the happier they will be.

An Evening at Home.

Boys and girls ought to plan for some evenings at home. Let other things have a share, but do not give up all the time to other things. Once a week the young people ought to arrange for an evening at home. Decline everything else for that evening, the same as you would for any other engagement. Gather the family together. Make a special place for grandma and grandpa. Sing merry songs; play innocent and amusing games; take time to tell the home folks about some of the things that you do and that you have seen in the world; get acquainted with the home folks; be delighted in their delight; by special 28appointment, spend one or two cheerful hours with the folks at home each week.

The young folks themselves should take the lead in this matter. A home is not merely a place with four walls where people meet to eat and drink and sleep securely beneath a roof. Nay, boys and girls, a house is reared to be a home—the center where a family may gather into one; to be a serene retreat where the tenderest affections may find rest; where love may have a dwelling place, and the amenities of life gain ample scope; where parents and children may press one another heart to heart; where sorrows and joys may be freely shared in sacred confidence; in a word, where the great work of training human beings for the duties of the present life, and the perfection of another, may be begun and carried on.

There is one special reason for making much of the evenings at home that young people are not likely to think of. Inevitably the family circle will be broken up very soon. Perhaps not by death, but most certainly by change. When Fred goes to college that is the beginning of new ties and new associations, and the home privileges can never be quite so complete to him again. The years of the complete unity of the home are very few indeed. While these years are passing, young people especially should make the most of them. My dear boys and girls, get the benefit of these years; get their joys; store up 29memories of home life, for they will be in future years the most beautiful pictures of the heart. However some may sneer at it, the memory of home and mother is a great power for righteousness. It has saved many a person to God and native land and race.

IV. THE MAKING OF A MAN.[1]

Mr. Stamps, seated near the table, was glancing over the afternoon paper. Mrs. Stamps, in an easy chair, was doing some fancy work. Little Bobby, six years old, more or less, was playing with his toys on the floor. All at once the precocious little boy stopped short in the middle of his sport and, looking up at his mother, asked,—

“Mama, who made the world?”

“God,” replied Mrs. Stamps, sweetly.

“Who made the sea?” continued Bobby.

Mrs. Stamps answered, “God.”

“Well,” said Bobby, “did God make everything?”

“Yes, my son; the Lord made everything.”

“And did he make everybody?”

30“Yes; the Lord made everybody.”

Bobby was silent for a moment. Presently he looked anxiously at his father, and then, turning to his mother, he asked,—

“Mama, did God make papa, too?”

“Yes; God made papa also.”

After a lengthy pause Bobby asked,—

Bobby and His “Man.”

“Mama, do you think that I could make a man, if I was to try real hard?”

“You had better run out to play now, Bobby,” said Mrs. Stamps, somewhat non-plused by her son’s curiosity.

Bobby left the room almost immediately. He went straight to the beach in front of the house, and labored long and earnestly in piling up some wet sand. Pretty soon he was joined in his work 31by two other little boys. For some time the three little fellows worked vigorously in piling up the mud. Mrs. Stamps called her husband to the window, so that he might see what the boys were doing.

“Wife,” said Mr. Stamps, “I believe those little Satans are trying to make a man.”

Toward sunset Bobby ran into the house and exclaimed with delight,—

“Mama, we’ve got our man almost finished. We didn’t have but one marble, and we used that for one of his eyes. I came in to ask you to give me a marble, so that we might put in his other eye.”

“It’s too late to bother now, Bobby,” said Mrs. Stamps. “Wait until to-morrow morning; then I will give you a marble and let you finish your man.”

The next morning, bright and early, Bobby went out to look for his man. Lo and behold! the sea had washed the man away during the night. But, Bobby, of course, did not suspect that. He thought that the man had gone away of his own accord. So the little fellow spent the entire morning looking for his man. He looked under the house; he looked in the stable; he went up to the garret; he walked up and down the beach; he went into the woods—looking for his man. But his man was nowhere to be found.