It could not have been expected that a people who had spent generations in slavery, and before that generations in the darkest heathenism, could at first form any proper conception of what an education meant.  In every part of the South, during the Reconstruction period, schools, both day and night, were filled to overflowing with people of all ages and conditions, some being as far along in age as sixty and seventy years.  The ambition to secure an education was most praiseworthy and encouraging.  The idea, however, was too prevalent that, as soon as one secured a little education, in some unexplainable way he would be free from most of the hardships of the world, and, at any rate, could live without manual labour.  There was a further feeling that a knowledge, however little, of the Greek and Latin languages would make one a very superior human being, something bordering almost on the supernatural.  I remember that the first coloured man whom I saw who knew something about foreign languages impressed me at the time as being a man of all others to be envied.

Naturally, most of our people who received some little education became teachers or preachers.  While among those two classes there were many capable, earnest, godly men and women, still a large proportion took up teaching or preaching as an easy way to make a living.  Many became teachers who could do little more than write their names.  I remember there came into our neighbourhood one of this class, who was in search of a school to teach, and the question arose while he was there as to the shape of the earth and how he could teach the children concerning the subject.  He explained his position in the matter by saying that he was prepared to teach that the earth was either flat or round, according to the preference of a majority of his patrons.

The ministry was the profession that suffered most—­and still suffers, though there has been great improvement—­on account of not only ignorant but in many cases immoral men who claimed that they were “called to preach.”  In the earlier days of freedom almost every coloured man who learned to read would receive “a call to preach” within a few days after he began reading.  At my home in West Virginia the process of being called to the ministry was a very interesting one.  Usually the “call” came when the individual was sitting in church.  Without warning the one called would fall upon the floor as if struck by a bullet, and would lie there for hours, speechless and motionless.  Then the news would spread all through the neighborhood that this individual had received a “call.”  If he were inclined to resist the summons, he would fall or be made to fall a second or third time.  In the end he always yielded to the call.  While I wanted an education badly, I confess that in my youth I had a fear that when I had learned to read and write very well I would receive one of these “calls”; but, for some reason, my call never came.