A Breeze from the South
Christian Recorder: February 6, 1873

Mr. Editor – I have once more taken up my pen, to become a regular contributor to the Christian Recorder, -- if I don’t faint by the way. In doing so, I am following no disposition of my own. I am simply yielding to the behest of yourself and a host of other friends, who have been importuning me for years, to resume my contributions to that paper. I had thought and still think the necessity for my scribling had passed. When I formerly wrote for the Recorder so regularly, before and during the war, our church comparatively speaking, was scarce of literary men; and those who could lend a helping hand, and refused to do so, stood in a culpable attitude before the whole Connexion. Since then, all honor to high heaven, a class of young men has sprung up in our church, who are more than adequate to her literary demands. Thus creating an intelligent galaxy, who if they will, might adorn the now rich columns of the Recorder with unsurpassing grandeur; and lay such hackney coaches as myself on the shelf. However as I promised a few weeks ago when I was in Philadelphia, that I would again scratch – for the Recorder, you see that I have at least made a start. What the character of my articles will be, the Lord only knows, for I do not. Of this much however I can apprize you, they will be made up of whatever thoughts are revolving through my mind when I commence writing. They will be written in a hurry, and never rewritten, or read over and corrected, when I get through. The chirography will be hurried, the sentences will be at times almost intolerable, and the punctuation will be frightful in the extreme. The subjects will be treated in the most ridiculous manner, both the premises and conclusions will be awful, the will dare to grapple with all questions – religious, scientific, historic, past, present and future; up, down, front, and rear. They will essay to contend with subjects that never did, or never will exist. They will often make nothing out of something, but never make something out of nothing. When the right word can not be found to express an idea, a new word will be coined for present use, (but please do not borrow it) or it will be Anglicized from dog Latin, or any kind of fuge gibberish that may be most convenient. But for fear I might so frighten you Mr. Editor, that you will consign my manuscripts to the fire before trying to read them, I will stop, and say for your encouragement, the words will be correctly spelt. I pride myself on being a good speller, -- when I am not half asleep. Well, come now let us be more serious. Enough of that kind of talk.
The Georgia Annual Conference numbering some two hundred and sixty odd preachers, has met and just adjourned. Bishop Ward was at his post, and displayed great ability in managing our mammoth conference. Few men living can wield the English language more powerfully than Bishop Ward. When he commends your course, the sun seems to shine out from the azure sky; but if he disapproves of your acts, and hurls his fearful invectives at you, one can imagine he is burried in some mountain gorge, where Jupiter is rolling against his merciless head, the thunder-forged bolts of Vulcan.

Bishop J. M. Brown, D. D. was also a visitor of our conference and exhibited a remarkable fund of literary ability; his sermon before the conference again, I desire before closing a letter to say a word or so about our publishing establishment and Rev. W. H. Hunter (or as I call him, Chaplain Hunter), our General Business Manager. I write this paragraph especially for the South:

At our last General Conference, Chaplain Hunter was appointed by the voice of that grave body though the board of bishops, the General Business Manager of the A. M. E. Church, and thus assumed control of what was before known as the General Book Concern.

Being in Washington a few weeks ago, I rode over to Philadelphia to pay my respects to him, our editor, Brother Young, &c., and though sick at the time, when I entered our publishing department I was so electrified at the appearance of things, that I almost regained my physical equilibrity. I think it is useless to attempt a description of what met my sight; suffice it to say, Chaplain Hunter is all we hoped for and more. His tact, taste, zeal, and suavity all combine to fit him for the trust confided in him. Our book department is now commanding the highest respect. And what is more, he has no official secrets, his books, office, accounts, contracts, obligations, and business are all open to the inspection of the ministers of the A.M. E. Church. Chaplain Hunter deserves the unanimous support or our ministers.


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