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"Aunt Bet" By D. A. M. It was just about the end of the Civil War when she came to us. Grandfather seemed to have a knack of picking up the most efficient help in the most unexpected ways. I believe he was on his way to the bank, when his attention was attracted by a beady-eyed, agile little woman hurrying across the avenue with a bandanna bundle poised easily upon her head. The chef had just asked for another assistant as the old one was getting too slow. Perhaps -- well, just how the bargain was struck I do not now recall, but from that day until her death, a few months ago, she was a member of our family. How old she was we could only guess, as she persisted in being "half-a-hundred" until the day of her death, and her appearance afforded no clue to the mystery. To me she seemed never to have been any more or any less and I never had the temerity to question her too closely upon the subject. In fact, I never wholly recovered from my earliest recollections of this little ebony autocrat of the kitchen. I remember so well the picture she made in the old whitewashed summer-kitchen of our country home, where she held sway during the slack season at the hotel. Irresistibly drawn by the seductive odor of browning corn bread, one little face after the other, wistful, piquant, or bold, according to the disposition of the owner, would peer in through the open door, each with its eyes fastened on the ostentatiously busy little body at the oven door. We knew just how she would do it. First, the hand under the apron - and such an apro - like the apparel of Robin Hood's palmer, "patched both beneath and above," but never, oh! never, other than spotlessly clear; than the bobbing of the bandanna head, the deft opening of the oven door; a triumphant flourish, and with a final satisfactory, "Dah, now!" the coveted prize was turned out upon the shining table. We knew we should each get a generous slice; but oh! the delicious thrills of half-fear that accompanied its final capture. Sometimes she accompanied her "Get out a-heah, you pesterin, little rapscallions!" with a wild flourish of her glittering carving knife! Ah, was ever corn bread so delicious! Then, too, there was her garden. Everyone knew who'd have the first peas in the neighborhood. Not that Aunt Bet ever went out to see. It was her boast to the day of her death that she "never had nuthin' to do with no nigger" (she was just sunburned), and as she "'spized white folks," it is not hard to believe that she never ventured outside the front gate except on the rarest occasions, when there was absolutely nobody else to go to the corner for groceries. Her "people," her chickens (she always had a "Thomas Jefferson" and "Mirandy" on the roosts), her two ancient revolvers, relics of her war experiences, each one glorying in a mighty name - and last but not least, "Old Tom" - but if I should tell you of these, I should write a book. SEBASTIAN GOMEZ BY AUTHUR A. SCHOMBURG AMONG the great painters who have achieved honor and recognition by their talents the least has been said of Sebastian Gomez of the city of Sevilla in Spain. M.L. Alcantara mentions the famous school of Alonso Cano of the XVII century, the father of Granada's school of painting, in his "History of Granada" (1846). Sebastian Gomez was a pupil here with Alonzo Mena, Geronimo Cieza, S.H. Barnuevo, Ambrosio Martinez and Juan Nino de Guevara, who contributed notable canvases to adorn the church edifices and private residences of Granada. THE "JIM-CROW" CAR 137 It is to be regretted that the early life of Sebastian Gomez is shrouded in mystery because of the odious curse of slavery, that repressive institution which has killed the noblest aspirations of so many. Some further information may, however, be found in the Historical Dictionary of the most illustrious professors of Belles-Arts in Spain, written by Juan Cean Bernudez and published by the Royal Academy of San Fernando, Madris, 1800, in six volumes : "Sebastian Gomez, called the Mulatto of Murillo, was a Spanish painter." He was a "slave of that great artist, and by his application was able to imitate his master in the moments of his servitude. In this manner he became a famous painter, with good taste, a heavy brush o his canvases and an exactness in his drawing. The 'Virgin and Child,' located in the portico of the Church of the Mercenary Barefooted Fathers of Sevilla, painted by this hand, is very charming. The canvas, 'Christ attached to a pillar and St. Peter kneeling at His feet,' is in the vestry of the Capuchins Convent of that city, and a 'St. Joseph' and a 'St. Ann' in the choir below the Convent are noted for their harmony of color, masterly handling of light and shade and their remarkable fidelity of life. It is believed that he outlived his master and died in the city of Sevilla. The city of Sevilla is remarkable for having as early as 1360 a Chapel for Negroes, which was founded by Archbishop Gonzalo de Mena, who died in the year 1401. The Chapel was known as "Our Lady of the Angels," with a brotherhood. When their benefactor died the Negroes in a body, as a mark of respect, followed the funeral cortege to the Monastry of Cartuja in the majestic Sierra Nevada Mountains. (Anales Eclesiasticos y Seculares, etc., Ortiz de Zuniga, Madris, 1677.) Gomez' master, Bartolome Esteban Murillo, was one of Sevilla's most cherished and best loved sons, and is known the world over for his religious compositions, portraying wonderful expressions of tenderness and motherly solicitude. Sebastian Gomez died during the year 1680 and was buried in the city of Sevilla. We are thankful to historian Alcantara that he has given him a place in the niche of fame where he properly belongs with those other, who, during that early century, helped to perpetuate the glory of Spain. We recall also the Negro, Juan Latino, whose name adorns Alcantara's history among the "poetas granadinos," who flourished with Luis Marmol, Diego Hurtado de Mendoza and Pedro Soto de Rojas. THE "JIM-CROW" CAR An N. A. A. C. P. INVESTIGATION, PART II. BY T. MONTGOMERY GREGORY ONE of the greatest injustices of the "Jim Crow" car system is the unequal accommodations provided for Negroes for equal fares. Numerous instances, varying from the sickening conditions on the local lines to the more favorable ones on some of the main lines, present a situation that is intolerable. Dilapidated wooden coaches, cramped space, dirty and unsanitary interiors, and indecent toilet facilities, are some of the conditions that violate the requirements of equal accommodations as well as the sense of decency and justice. But these physical aspects of the "Jim Crow" car system are not the only ones that make travel for the Negro unbearable. In fact, I feel that the service and general treatment accorded colored passengers by the officials of the road is the worst evil of them all. I have already cited instances where the officers of the road - conductors and baggage-me - smoked in the colored coach. This abuse is not an uncommon one on the local lines. Furthermore, white men have no hesitation in freely invading the colored coaches, where they lounge and smoke at will. Appeals to the conductor, as in
