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16                          THE CRISIS
[[image]] TAYLOR HENSON. [[/image]]

sheriff's sale, he went to see the party in control and made a verbal offer for the whole of six hundred dollars, paying one hundred down, with the understanding that he would bid in the rest. Immediately he started clearing the land, which was covered with primeval hardwood, his idea being to convey the impression that he had arranged to buy and, thereby, kill and general interest in the forthcoming sale. The party in charge intimated that Henson had better raise his bid; but the farmer never gave any information as to what his plans were and on the day of the sale he succeeded in bidding in the land at his original price offer. Instead of three years, which had been understood, they gave him but seven months in which to pay for his land. He went to work, however, and split enough rails during the fall and winter to pay out the land and the following spring he was the owner of forty acres of bottom-land, twelve of which were cleared and ready for crops.

Thus began the landlordship of Taylor Henson. He was obsessed by the idea of buying land but at the same time he did not overlook the consideration of making that which he owned produce. He did not raise cotton, putting his faith in corn, until one spring when he embarked upon the truck business. Cantaloupes and watermelons were his specialty, and the land did its share for him. He got in touch with reliable commission men in St. Louis and Chicago and gradually built up a great melon business. At first he could obtain nothing but box cars and lost a great deal of money through delayed and badly-shaken shipments. After a few years, though, the railroad came to realize the possibilities of this man's industry and supplied him with the proper cars for such crops and then Taylor Henson came into his own. His neighbors, too, began to grow melons to ship with his and Arkansas fruit earned a well-merited fame in the big markets. For several years he grew more than one hundred acres in melons alone, not to mention a goodly area of corn and potatoes, and car after car rolled out of the Malvern yards loaded with Henson's melons. The profits from this industry went into more land, always more land, until now, at the age of sixty-five, this man has the unique record of having bought nearly one thousand acres of real estate and of having sold not one! In the opinion of well-informed acquaintances this farmer's property is worth more than one hundred thousand dollars, which is quite a sum to most of us.

But the crowning satisfaction came about ten years ago when Mr. Paul of South Bend, Indiana, considered the greatest truck grower in this country, came to Malvern and visited Mr. Henson for the avowed purpose of congratulating him on his achievements. In substance this gentleman declared that the Arkansas melons were the best that the market received and that the land from which they came must be the truck-garden of the American continent. He further stated that the only reason he did not transfer his own activities to this region was because he could not obtain land in units large enough for his methods of farming. This, from a man who operates two truck farms of more than three hundred acres each, one in Indiana and the other in Texas, was an endorsement more than

                             A SONNET                          17

satisfying than the returns from the finest car the recipient had ever shipped. 

This achievement is worthy of mention just as any success which is won by hard work and good judgment; but the outstanding feature of this story is the fact that Taylor Henson is a Negro, born in slavery, who never had a single day's schooling, except in the field and in dealings with his fellowmen. When spoken to he always hesitates a moment before replying and the white people maintain that he does this in order to decide whether or not there is any money in sight. When the writer suggested that he pose for a snapshot the old colored man hesitated and then replied, "Why, I don't believe I care to have any such work done." Upon being assured that he would not be expected to purchase a photograph he assented with the words: "Well, then, you may do as you like about it, I never had my picture made before."

Several years ago he sent to Illinois for a few registered Poland China hogs and, with characteristic success, was soon the owner of a splendid herd of swine. After killing all the meat he required for the fall season, he carried eighty-six heads into the winter, with the idea of putting them on the market in the spring, but cholera came through the county and his herd was wiped out. He states that he might have saved several of the finest by killing them before they were taken sick but, in his own words, "I was not absolutely sure that they might not be affected and I preferred losing them entirely to selling diseased meat." Such a point of view illustrates the character of this man. With the loss of eighty-six swine averaging four hundred pounds each, Mr. Henson went out of the pork business and has not returned.

In the South the colored man's mission is of vital import to the great and growing industries. Sawmills, transportation systems, plantations, and the multitude of lesser activities require his labor. In the nature of things it is inevitable that he shall perform lowly tasks until he progresses to the point where he can aspire to greater responsibilities; but on the soil he has the opportunity, greater than elsewhere, of becoming as near independent as any human being may in this great country. Therefore, when a man like Taylor Henson, starting with no advantages other than industry, brains, and will power, and under the handicaps which held at the clos of the war, makes a real success of life, his example should be held up before the many thousands of colored boys, now growing up, that they may aspire to follow in the footsteps of progress and become credits to their race.

A Sonnet: TO THE MANTLED!
[---]
By G. DOUGLAS JOHNSON.
[---]

AND they shall rise and cast their mantles by,
Erect, and string, and visioned, as the day
That rings the knell of Curfew o'er the
sway
Of prejudice—who reels with mortal cry
To lift no more her leprous, blinded eye.
Reft of the fetters, far more cursed than
they
Which held dominion o'er the human clay, 
The spirit soars aloft, where rainbows lie.


Like joyful exiles, swift returning home,
The rhythmic chanson of their eager feet,
While voices, strange to ecstasy, long dumb,
Break forth in major cadences, full sweet
Into the very star-shine, lo! they come,
Wearing the bays of victory complete!