ig House" to greet their master,
who gave each in turn his Christmas "dram," and then, like a kennel is
opened and pent-up hounds are bidden to scamper away, the slaves were
let go to enjoy themselves to their heart's content, and were summoned
no more to the field before the dawn of the New Year. While in the rural
districts the frolics and kindred pleasures were the chief pastimes, in
the cities and towns the celebrations were more elaborate. In gaudy
regalia the "Hog Eye" danced for the general amusement, and the Cooner
in his rags "showed his motions." For many years before the war Uncle
Guy was the star performer at these functions in Wilmington. With whip
in hand, he danced and pranced, and in sport flogged children who had
been naughty during the year. But to us, who were youngsters in the
seventies, Uncle Guy is most vividly remembered as a musician--a
clarionet soloist--a member of the Shoo Fly Band, whose martial music
will ever ring in the ear of memory.

The fall of Fort Fisher added many a new face and character to
Wilmington life. Negroes who had in the conflict just closed learned of
the art of war, added impetus to and stimulated the old city's martial
spirit and love of gaudy display. And those who through the same agency
had learned in the military bands and drum corps the art of music were
indispensable adjuvants in elevating her lowly inhabitants. But he who
came with the knowledge of music had a much wider field for usefulness
before him; for the Negroes' love for music is stronger than love for
war. Frank Johnson, who had the credit of organizing the Shoo Fly Band,
had not tasted of war, but he and Uncle Guy had been "orchestra"
musicians before the war. And now, as the increase of talent in
Wilmington opened a wider field, the band was organized. It was called
Frank Johnson's Band at first, but in after years more familiarly known
as the "Shoo Fly." The name is a small matter, however; music was the
chief thing. And how that band could play it! There was a ring in that
music that electrified the soul and filled the limbs with renewed vigor.

There was Dick Stove with his trombone,
Henry Anderson with his bass,
Making music swift as raindrops in a race.
There was Guy Wright with his clarionet,
Henry Adams with his B,
And the music made the youngsters dance with glee.
There was Johnson, he play'd second,
Who, when horn-blowing was dull,
Could play a fiddle tempting to