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diff --git a/old/11057-8.txt b/old/11057-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index dc5b285..0000000 --- a/old/11057-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8991 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Wife of his Youth and Other Stories of -the Color Line, and Selected Essays, by Charles Waddell Chesnutt, et al - - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - - - - -Title: The Wife of his Youth and Other Stories of the Color Line, and -Selected Essays - -Author: Charles Waddell Chesnutt - -Release Date: February 12, 2004 [eBook #11057] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WIFE OF HIS YOUTH AND OTHER -STORIES OF THE COLOR LINE, AND SELECTED ESSAYS*** - - -E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, Andrea Ball, and the Project Gutenberg -Online Distributed Proofreading Team - - - -The Wife of His Youth and Other Stories of the Color Line, -and Selected Essays - -Charles W. Chesnutt - -1899 - - - - - - -INTRODUCTION - - -Charles Waddell Chesnutt (1858-1932)--African-American educator, -lawyer, and activist--was the most prominent black prose author of -his day. In both his fiction and his essays, he addressed the thorny -issues of the "color line" and racism in an outspoken way. Despite -the critical acclaim resulting from several works of fiction and -non-fiction published between 1898 and 1905, he was unable to make a -living as an author. He kept writing, however, and several works -which were not published during his lifetime have been rediscovered -(and published) in recent years. He was awarded the Springarn Medal -for distinguished literary achievement by the NAACP in 1928. The -library at Fayetteville State University, in North Carolina, is -named after him. - -The Wife of His Youth (1899) was Chesnutt's second collection of -short stories, drawing upon his mixed race heritage. These deal -largely with race relations, the far-reaching effects of Jim -Crow laws, and color prejudice among African Americans toward -darker-skinned blacks. Eric J. Sundquist wrote: "Chesnutt's -color-line stories, like his conjure tales, are at their best -haunting, psychologically and philosophically astute studies of the -nation's betrayal of the promise of racial equality and its descent -into a brutal world of segregation. [He] made the family a means of -delineating America's racial crisis, during slavery and afterward." -For our PG edition, I have added three of Chesnutt's essays on the -"color line" in an Appendix to this collection. - - Suzanne Shell, - Project Gutenberg Project Manager - - - - - - -CONTENTS - -The Wife of His Youth - -Her Virginia Mammy - -The Sheriff's Children - -A Matter of Principle - -Cicely's Dream - -The Passing of Grandison - -Uncle Wellington's Wives - -The Bouquet - -The Web of Circumstance - - - -APPENDIX - -Three Essays on the Color Line: - -What is a White Man? (1889) - -The Future American (1900) - -The Disfranchisement of the Negro (1903) - - - - - -The Wife of His Youth - - - -I - - -Mr. Ryder was going to give a ball. There were several reasons why this -was an opportune time for such an event. - -Mr. Ryder might aptly be called the dean of the Blue Veins. The original -Blue Veins were a little society of colored persons organized in a -certain Northern city shortly after the war. Its purpose was to -establish and maintain correct social standards among a people whose -social condition presented almost unlimited room for improvement. By -accident, combined perhaps with some natural affinity, the society -consisted of individuals who were, generally speaking, more white than -black. Some envious outsider made the suggestion that no one was -eligible for membership who was not white enough to show blue veins. The -suggestion was readily adopted by those who were not of the favored few, -and since that time the society, though possessing a longer and more -pretentious name, had been known far and wide as the "Blue Vein -Society," and its members as the "Blue Veins." - -The Blue Veins did not allow that any such requirement existed for -admission to their circle, but, on the contrary, declared that character -and culture were the only things considered; and that if most of their -members were light-colored, it was because such persons, as a rule, had -had better opportunities to qualify themselves for membership. Opinions -differed, too, as to the usefulness of the society. There were those who -had been known to assail it violently as a glaring example of the very -prejudice from which the colored race had suffered most; and later, when -such critics had succeeded in getting on the inside, they had been heard -to maintain with zeal and earnestness that the society was a lifeboat, -an anchor, a bulwark and a shield,--a pillar of cloud by day and of fire -by night, to guide their people through the social wilderness. Another -alleged prerequisite for Blue Vein membership was that of free birth; -and while there was really no such requirement, it is doubtless true -that very few of the members would have been unable to meet it if there -had been. If there were one or two of the older members who had come up -from the South and from slavery, their history presented enough romantic -circumstances to rob their servile origin of its grosser aspects. - -While there were no such tests of eligibility, it is true that the Blue -Veins had their notions on these subjects, and that not all of them were -equally liberal in regard to the things they collectively disclaimed. -Mr. Ryder was one of the most conservative. Though he had not been among -the founders of the society, but had come in some years later, his -genius for social leadership was such that he had speedily become its -recognized adviser and head, the custodian of its standards, and the -preserver of its traditions. He shaped its social policy, was active in -providing for its entertainment, and when the interest fell off, as it -sometimes did, he fanned the embers until they burst again into a -cheerful flame. - -There were still other reasons for his popularity. While he was not as -white as some of the Blue Veins, his appearance was such as to confer -distinction upon them. His features were of a refined type, his hair was -almost straight; he was always neatly dressed; his manners were -irreproachable, and his morals above suspicion. He had come to Groveland -a young man, and obtaining employment in the office of a railroad -company as messenger had in time worked himself up to the position of -stationery clerk, having charge of the distribution of the office -supplies for the whole company. Although the lack of early training had -hindered the orderly development of a naturally fine mind, it had not -prevented him from doing a great deal of reading or from forming -decidedly literary tastes. Poetry was his passion. He could repeat whole -pages of the great English poets; and if his pronunciation was sometimes -faulty, his eye, his voice, his gestures, would respond to the changing -sentiment with a precision that revealed a poetic soul and disarmed -criticism. He was economical, and had saved money; he owned and occupied -a very comfortable house on a respectable street. His residence was -handsomely furnished, containing among other things a good library, -especially rich in poetry, a piano, and some choice engravings. He -generally shared his house with some young couple, who looked after his -wants and were company for him; for Mr. Ryder was a single man. In the -early days of his connection with the Blue Veins he had been regarded as -quite a catch, and young ladies and their mothers had manoeuvred with -much ingenuity to capture him. Not, however, until Mrs. Molly Dixon -visited Groveland had any woman ever made him wish to change his -condition to that of a married man. - -Mrs. Dixon had come to Groveland from Washington in the spring, and -before the summer was over she had won Mr. Ryder's heart. She possessed -many attractive qualities. She was much younger than he; in fact, he was -old enough to have been her father, though no one knew exactly how old -he was. She was whiter than he, and better educated. She had moved in -the best colored society of the country, at Washington, and had taught -in the schools of that city. Such a superior person had been eagerly -welcomed to the Blue Vein Society, and had taken a leading part in its -activities. Mr. Ryder had at first been attracted by her charms of -person, for she was very good looking and not over twenty-five; then by -her refined manners and the vivacity of her wit. Her husband had been a -government clerk, and at his death had left a considerable life -insurance. She was visiting friends in Groveland, and, finding the town -and the people to her liking, had prolonged her stay indefinitely. She -had not seemed displeased at Mr. Ryder's attentions, but on the contrary -had given him every proper encouragement; indeed, a younger and less -cautious man would long since have spoken. But he had made up his mind, -and had only to determine the time when he would ask her to be his wife. -He decided to give a ball in her honor, and at some time during the -evening of the ball to offer her his heart and hand. He had no special -fears about the outcome, but, with a little touch of romance, he wanted -the surroundings to be in harmony with his own feelings when he should -have received the answer he expected. - -Mr. Ryder resolved that this ball should mark an epoch in the social -history of Groveland. He knew, of course,--no one could know -better,--the entertainments that had taken place in past years, and what -must be done to surpass them. His ball must be worthy of the lady in -whose honor it was to be given, and must, by the quality of its guests, -set an example for the future. He had observed of late a growing -liberality, almost a laxity, in social matters, even among members of -his own set, and had several times been forced to meet in a social way -persons whose complexions and callings in life were hardly up to the -standard which he considered proper for the society to maintain. He had -a theory of his own. - -"I have no race prejudice," he would say, "but we people of mixed blood -are ground between the upper and the nether millstone. Our fate lies -between absorption by the white race and extinction in the black. The -one does n't want us yet, but may take us in time. The other would -welcome us, but it would be for us a backward step. 'With malice towards -none, with charity for all,' we must do the best we can for ourselves -and those who are to follow us. Self-preservation is the first law of -nature." - -His ball would serve by its exclusiveness to counteract leveling -tendencies, and his marriage with Mrs. Dixon would help to further the -upward process of absorption he had been wishing and waiting for. - - - -II - - -The ball was to take place on Friday night. The house had been put in -order, the carpets covered with canvas, the halls and stairs decorated -with palms and potted plants; and in the afternoon Mr. Ryder sat on his -front porch, which the shade of a vine running up over a wire netting -made a cool and pleasant lounging place. He expected to respond to the -toast "The Ladies" at the supper, and from a volume of Tennyson--his -favorite poet--was fortifying himself with apt quotations. The volume -was open at "A Dream of Fair Women." His eyes fell on these lines, and -he read them aloud to judge better of their effect:---- - - "At length I saw a lady within call, - Stiller than chisell'd marble, standing there; - A daughter of the gods, divinely tall, - And most divinely fair." - -He marked the verse, and turning the page read the stanza beginning,---- - - "O sweet pale Margaret, - O rare pale Margaret." - -He weighed the passage a moment, and decided that it would not do. Mrs. -Dixon was the palest lady he expected at the ball, and she was of a -rather ruddy complexion, and of lively disposition and buxom build. So -he ran over the leaves until his eye rested on the description of Queen -Guinevere:---- - - "She seem'd a part of joyous Spring; - A gown of grass-green silk she wore, - Buckled with golden clasps before; - A light-green tuft of plumes she bore - Closed in a golden ring. - - * * * * * - - "She look'd so lovely, as she sway'd - The rein with dainty finger-tips, - A man had given all other bliss, - And all his worldly worth for this, - To waste his whole heart in one kiss - Upon her perfect lips." - -As Mr. Ryder murmured these words audibly, with an appreciative thrill, -he heard the latch of his gate click, and a light footfall sounding on -the steps. He turned his head, and saw a woman standing before his door. - -She was a little woman, not five feet tall, and proportioned to her -height. Although she stood erect, and looked around her with very bright -and restless eyes, she seemed quite old; for her face was crossed and -recrossed with a hundred wrinkles, and around the edges of her bonnet -could be seen protruding here and there a tuft of short gray wool. She -wore a blue calico gown of ancient cut, a little red shawl fastened -around her shoulders with an old-fashioned brass brooch, and a large -bonnet profusely ornamented with faded red and yellow artificial -flowers. And she was very black,--so black that her toothless gums, -revealed when she opened her mouth to speak, were not red, but blue. She -looked like a bit of the old plantation life, summoned up from the past -by the wave of a magician's wand, as the poet's fancy had called into -being the gracious shapes of which Mr. Ryder had just been reading. - -He rose from his chair and came over to where she stood. - -"Good-afternoon, madam," he said. - -"Good-evenin', suh," she answered, ducking suddenly with a quaint -curtsy. Her voice was shrill and piping, but softened somewhat by age. -"Is dis yere whar Mistuh Ryduh lib, suh?" she asked, looking around her -doubtfully, and glancing into the open windows, through which some of -the preparations for the evening were visible. - -"Yes," he replied, with an air of kindly patronage, unconsciously -flattered by her manner, "I am Mr. Ryder. Did you want to see me?" - -"Yas, suh, ef I ain't 'sturbin' of you too much." - -"Not at all. Have a seat over here behind the vine, where it is cool. -What can I do for you?" - -"'Scuse me, suh," she continued, when she had sat down on the edge of a -chair, "'scuse me, suh, I 's lookin' for my husban'. I heerd you wuz a -big man an' had libbed heah a long time, an' I 'lowed you would n't min' -ef I 'd come roun' an' ax you ef you 'd ever heerd of a merlatter man by -de name er Sam Taylor 'quirin' roun' in de chu'ches ermongs' de people -fer his wife 'Liza Jane?" - -Mr. Ryder seemed to think for a moment. - -"There used to be many such cases right after the war," he said, "but it -has been so long that I have forgotten them. There are very few now. But -tell me your story, and it may refresh my memory." - -She sat back farther in her chair so as to be more comfortable, and -folded her withered hands in her lap. - -"My name 's 'Liza," she began, "'Liza Jane. W'en I wuz young I us'ter -b'long ter Marse Bob Smif, down in ole Missoura. I wuz bawn down dere. -Wen I wuz a gal I wuz married ter a man named Jim. But Jim died, an' -after dat I married a merlatter man named Sam Taylor. Sam wuz free-bawn, -but his mammy and daddy died, an' de w'ite folks 'prenticed him ter my -marster fer ter work fer 'im 'tel he wuz growed up. Sam worked in de -fiel', an' I wuz de cook. One day Ma'y Ann, ole miss's maid, came -rushin' out ter de kitchen, an' says she, ''Liza Jane, ole marse gwine -sell yo' Sam down de ribber.' - -"'Go way f'm yere,' says I; 'my husban' 's free!' - -"'Don' make no diff'ence. I heerd ole marse tell ole miss he wuz gwine -take yo' Sam 'way wid 'im ter-morrow, fer he needed money, an' he knowed -whar he could git a t'ousan' dollars fer Sam an' no questions axed.' - -"W'en Sam come home f'm de fiel' dat night, I tole him 'bout ole marse -gwine steal 'im, an' Sam run erway. His time wuz mos' up, an' he swo' -dat w'en he wuz twenty-one he would come back an' he'p me run erway, er -else save up de money ter buy my freedom. An' I know he 'd 'a' done it, -fer he thought a heap er me, Sam did. But w'en he come back he didn' -fin' me, fer I wuzn' dere. Ole marse had heerd dat I warned Sam, so he -had me whip' an' sol' down de ribber. - -"Den de wah broke out, an' w'en it wuz ober de cullud folks wuz -scattered. I went back ter de ole home; but Sam wuzn' dere, an' I -could n' l'arn nuffin' 'bout 'im. But I knowed he 'd be'n dere to look -fer me an' had n' foun' me, an' had gone erway ter hunt fer me. - -"I 's be'n lookin' fer 'im eber sence," she added simply, as though -twenty-five years were but a couple of weeks, "an' I knows he 's be'n -lookin' fer me. Fer he sot a heap er sto' by me, Sam did, an' I know -he 's be'n huntin' fer me all dese years,--'less'n he 's be'n sick er -sump'n, so he could n' work, er out'n his head, so he could n' 'member -his promise. I went back down de ribber, fer I 'lowed he 'd gone down -dere lookin' fer me. I 's be'n ter Noo Orleens, an' Atlanty, an' -Charleston, an' Richmon'; an' w'en I 'd be'n all ober de Souf I come ter -de Norf. Fer I knows I 'll fin' 'im some er dese days," she added -softly, "er he 'll fin' me, an' den we 'll bofe be as happy in freedom -as we wuz in de ole days befo' de wah." A smile stole over her withered -countenance as she paused a moment, and her bright eyes softened into a -far-away look. - -This was the substance of the old woman's story. She had wandered a -little here and there. Mr. Ryder was looking at her curiously when she -finished. - -"How have you lived all these years?" he asked. - -"Cookin', suh. I 's a good cook. Does you know anybody w'at needs a good -cook, suh? I 's stoppin' wid a cullud fam'ly roun' de corner yonder 'tel -I kin git a place." - -"Do you really expect to find your husband? He may be dead long ago." - -She shook her head emphatically. "Oh no, he ain' dead. De signs an' de -tokens tells me. I dremp three nights runnin' on'y dis las' week dat I -foun' him." - -"He may have married another woman. Your slave marriage would not have -prevented him, for you never lived with him after the war, and without -that your marriage does n't count." - -"Would n' make no diff'ence wid Sam. He would n' marry no yuther 'ooman -'tel he foun' out 'bout me. I knows it," she added. "Sump'n 's be'n -tellin' me all dese years dat I 's gwine fin' Sam 'fo' I dies." - -"Perhaps he 's outgrown you, and climbed up in the world where he would n't -care to have you find him." - -"No, indeed, suh," she replied, "Sam ain' dat kin' er man. He wuz good -ter me, Sam wuz, but he wuz n' much good ter nobody e'se, fer he wuz one -er de triflin'es' han's on de plantation. I 'spec's ter haf ter suppo't -'im w'en I fin' 'im, fer he nebber would work 'less'n he had ter. But -den he wuz free, an' he did n' git no pay fer his work, an' I don' blame -'im much. Mebbe he 's done better sence he run erway, but I ain' -'spectin' much." - -"You may have passed him on the street a hundred times during the -twenty-five years, and not have known him; time works great changes." - -She smiled incredulously. "I 'd know 'im 'mongs' a hund'ed men. Fer dey -wuz n' no yuther merlatter man like my man Sam, an' I could n' be -mistook. I 's toted his picture roun' wid me twenty-five years." - -"May I see it?" asked Mr. Ryder. "It might help me to remember whether I -have seen the original." - -As she drew a small parcel from her bosom he saw that it was fastened to -a string that went around her neck. Removing several wrappers, she -brought to light an old-fashioned daguerreotype in a black case. He -looked long and intently at the portrait. It was faded with time, but -the features were still distinct, and it was easy to see what manner of -man it had represented. - -He closed the case, and with a slow movement handed it back to her. - -"I don't know of any man in town who goes by that name," he said, "nor -have I heard of any one making such inquiries. But if you will leave me -your address, I will give the matter some attention, and if I find out -anything I will let you know." - -She gave him the number of a house in the neighborhood, and went away, -after thanking him warmly. - -He wrote the address on the fly-leaf of the volume of Tennyson, and, -when she had gone, rose to his feet and stood looking after her -curiously. As she walked down the street with mincing step, he saw -several persons whom she passed turn and look back at her with a smile -of kindly amusement. When she had turned the corner, he went upstairs to -his bedroom, and stood for a long time before the mirror of his -dressing-case, gazing thoughtfully at the reflection of his own face. - - - -III - - -At eight o'clock the ballroom was a blaze of light and the guests had -begun to assemble; for there was a literary programme and some routine -business of the society to be gone through with before the dancing. A -black servant in evening dress waited at the door and directed the -guests to the dressing-rooms. - -The occasion was long memorable among the colored people of the city; -not alone for the dress and display, but for the high average of -intelligence and culture that distinguished the gathering as a whole. -There were a number of school-teachers, several young doctors, three or -four lawyers, some professional singers, an editor, a lieutenant in the -United States army spending his furlough in the city, and others in -various polite callings; these were colored, though most of them would -not have attracted even a casual glance because of any marked difference -from white people. Most of the ladies were in evening costume, and dress -coats and dancing pumps were the rule among the men. A band of string -music, stationed in an alcove behind a row of palms, played popular airs -while the guests were gathering. - -The dancing began at half past nine. At eleven o'clock supper was -served. Mr. Ryder had left the ballroom some little time before the -intermission, but reappeared at the supper-table. The spread was worthy -of the occasion, and the guests did full justice to it. When the coffee -had been served, the toast-master, Mr. Solomon Sadler, rapped for order. -He made a brief introductory speech, complimenting host and guests, and -then presented in their order the toasts of the evening. They were -responded to with a very fair display of after-dinner wit. - -"The last toast," said the toast-master, when he reached the end of the -list, "is one which must appeal to us all. There is no one of us of the -sterner sex who is not at some time dependent upon woman,--in infancy -for protection, in manhood for companionship, in old age for care and -comforting. Our good host has been trying to live alone, but the fair -faces I see around me to-night prove that he too is largely dependent -upon the gentler sex for most that makes life worth living,--the society -and love of friends,--and rumor is at fault if he does not soon yield -entire subjection to one of them. Mr. Ryder will now respond to the -toast,--The Ladies." - -There was a pensive look in Mr. Ryder's eyes as he took the floor and -adjusted his eyeglasses. He began by speaking of woman as the gift of -Heaven to man, and after some general observations on the relations of -the sexes he said: "But perhaps the quality which most distinguishes -woman is her fidelity and devotion to those she loves. History is full -of examples, but has recorded none more striking than one which only -to-day came under my notice." - -He then related, simply but effectively, the story told by his visitor -of the afternoon. He gave it in the same soft dialect, which came -readily to his lips, while the company listened attentively and -sympathetically. For the story had awakened a responsive thrill in many -hearts. There were some present who had seen, and others who had heard -their fathers and grandfathers tell, the wrongs and sufferings of this -past generation, and all of them still felt, in their darker moments, -the shadow hanging over them. Mr. Ryder went on:---- - -"Such devotion and confidence are rare even among women. There are many -who would have searched a year, some who would have waited five years, a -few who might have hoped ten years; but for twenty-five years this woman -has retained her affection for and her faith in a man she has not seen -or heard of in all that time. - -"She came to me to-day in the hope that I might be able to help her -find this long-lost husband. And when she was gone I gave my fancy rein, -and imagined a case I will put to you. - -"Suppose that this husband, soon after his escape, had learned that his -wife had been sold away, and that such inquiries as he could make -brought no information of her whereabouts. Suppose that he was young, -and she much older than he; that he was light, and she was black; that -their marriage was a slave marriage, and legally binding only if they -chose to make it so after the war. Suppose, too, that he made his way to -the North, as some of us have done, and there, where he had larger -opportunities, had improved them, and had in the course of all these -years grown to be as different from the ignorant boy who ran away from -fear of slavery as the day is from the night. Suppose, even, that he had -qualified himself, by industry, by thrift, and by study, to win the -friendship and be considered worthy the society of such people as these -I see around me to-night, gracing my board and filling my heart with -gladness; for I am old enough to remember the day when such a gathering -would not have been possible in this land. Suppose, too, that, as the -years went by, this man's memory of the past grew more and more -indistinct, until at last it was rarely, except in his dreams, that any -image of this bygone period rose before his mind. And then suppose that -accident should bring to his knowledge the fact that the wife of his -youth, the wife he had left behind him,--not one who had walked by his -side and kept pace with him in his upward struggle, but one upon whom -advancing years and a laborious life had set their mark,--was alive and -seeking him, but that he was absolutely safe from recognition or -discovery, unless he chose to reveal himself. My friends, what would the -man do? I will presume that he was one who loved honor, and tried to -deal justly with all men. I will even carry the case further, and -suppose that perhaps he had set his heart upon another, whom he had -hoped to call his own. What would he do, or rather what ought he to do, -in such a crisis of a lifetime? - -"It seemed to me that he might hesitate, and I imagined that I was an -old friend, a near friend, and that he had come to me for advice; and I -argued the case with him. I tried to discuss it impartially. After we -had looked upon the matter from every point of view, I said to him, in -words that we all know:---- - - "'This above all: to thine own self be true, - And it must follow, as the night the day, - Thou canst not then be false to any man.' - -"Then, finally, I put the question to him, 'Shall you acknowledge her?' - -"And now, ladies and gentlemen, friends and companions, I ask you, what -should he have done?" - -There was something in Mr. Ryder's voice that stirred the hearts of -those who sat around him. It suggested more than mere sympathy with an -imaginary situation; it seemed rather in the nature of a personal -appeal. It was observed, too, that his look rested more especially upon -Mrs. Dixon, with a mingled expression of renunciation and inquiry. - -She had listened, with parted lips and streaming eyes. She was the first -to speak: "He should have acknowledged her." - -"Yes," they all echoed, "he should have acknowledged her." - -"My friends and companions," responded Mr. Ryder, "I thank you, one and -all. It is the answer I expected, for I knew your hearts." - -He turned and walked toward the closed door of an adjoining room, while -every eye followed him in wondering curiosity. He came back in a moment, -leading by the hand his visitor of the afternoon, who stood startled and -trembling at the sudden plunge into this scene of brilliant gayety. She -was neatly dressed in gray, and wore the white cap of an elderly woman. - -"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "this is the woman, and I am the man, -whose story I have told you. Permit me to introduce to you the wife of -my youth." - - - - -Her Virginia Mammy - - - -I - - -The pianist had struck up a lively two-step, and soon the floor was -covered with couples, each turning on its own axis, and all revolving -around a common centre, in obedience perhaps to the same law of motion -that governs the planetary systems. The dancing-hall was a long room, -with a waxed floor that glistened with the reflection of the lights from -the chandeliers. The walls were hung in paper of blue and white, above a -varnished hard wood wainscoting; the monotony of surface being broken by -numerous windows draped with curtains of dotted muslin, and by -occasional engravings and colored pictures representing the dances of -various nations, judiciously selected. The rows of chairs along the two -sides of the room were left unoccupied by the time the music was well -under way, for the pianist, a tall colored woman with long fingers and a -muscular wrist, played with a verve and a swing that set the feet of the -listeners involuntarily in motion. - -The dance was sure to occupy the class for a quarter of an hour at -least, and the little dancing-mistress took the opportunity to slip away -to her own sitting-room, which was on the same floor of the block, for a -few minutes of rest. Her day had been a hard one. There had been a -matinee at two o'clock, a children's class at four, and at eight o'clock -the class now on the floor had assembled. - -When she reached the sitting-room she gave a start of pleasure. A young -man rose at her entrance, and advanced with both hands extended--a tall, -broad-shouldered, fair-haired young man, with a frank and kindly -countenance, now lit up with the animation of pleasure. He seemed about -twenty-six or twenty-seven years old. His face was of the type one -instinctively associates with intellect and character, and it gave the -impression, besides, of that intangible something which we call race. He -was neatly and carefully dressed, though his clothing was not without -indications that he found it necessary or expedient to practice economy. - -"Good-evening, Clara," he said, taking her hands in his; "I 've been -waiting for you five minutes. I supposed you would be in, but if you had -been a moment later I was going to the hall to look you up. You seem -tired to-night," he added, drawing her nearer to him and scanning her -features at short range. "This work is too hard; you are not fitted for -it. When are you going to give it up?" - -"The season is almost over," she answered, "and then I shall stop for -the summer." - -He drew her closer still and kissed her lovingly. "Tell me, Clara," he -said, looking down into her face,--he was at least a foot taller than -she,--"when I am to have my answer." - -"Will you take the answer you can get to-night?" she asked with a wan -smile. - -"I will take but one answer, Clara. But do not make me wait too long for -that. Why, just think of it! I have known you for six months." - -"That is an extremely long time," said Clara, as they sat down side by -side. - -"It has been an age," he rejoined. "For a fortnight of it, too, which -seems longer than all the rest, I have been waiting for my answer. I am -turning gray under the suspense. Seriously, Clara dear, what shall it -be? or rather, when shall it be? for to the other question there is but -one answer possible." - -He looked into her eyes, which slowly filled with tears. She repulsed -him gently as he bent over to kiss them away. - -"You know I love you, John, and why I do not say what you wish. You must -give me a little more time to make up my mind before I can consent to -burden you with a nameless wife, one who does not know who her mother -was"---- - -"She was a good woman, and beautiful, if you are at all like her." - -"Or her father"---- - -"He was a gentleman and a scholar, if you inherited from him your mind -or your manners." - -"It is good of you to say that, and I try to believe it. But it is a -serious matter; it is a dreadful thing to have no name." - -"You are known by a worthy one, which was freely given you, and is -legally yours." - -"I know--and I am grateful for it. After all, though, it is not my real -name; and since I have learned that it was not, it seems like a -garment--something external, accessory, and not a part of myself. It -does not mean what one's own name would signify." - -"Take mine, Clara, and make it yours; I lay it at your feet. Some -honored men have borne it." - -"Ah yes, and that is what makes my position the harder. Your -great-grandfather was governor of Connecticut." - -"I have heard my mother say so." - -"And one of your ancestors came over in the Mayflower." - -"In some capacity--I have never been quite clear whether as ship's cook -or before the mast." - -"Now you are insincere, John; but you cannot deceive me. You never spoke -in that way about your ancestors until you learned that I had none. I -know you are proud of them, and that the memory of the governor and the -judge and the Harvard professor and the Mayflower pilgrim makes you -strive to excel, in order to prove yourself worthy of them." - -"It did until I met you, Clara. Now the one inspiration of my life is -the hope to make you mine." - -"And your profession?" - -"It will furnish me the means to take you out of this; you are not fit -for toil." - -"And your book--your treatise that is to make you famous?" - -"I have worked twice as hard on it and accomplished twice as much since -I have hoped that you might share my success." - -"Oh! if I but knew the truth!" she sighed, "or could find it out! I -realize that I am absurd, that I ought to be happy. I love my -parents--my foster-parents--dearly. I owe them everything. Mother--poor, -dear mother!--could not have loved me better or cared for me more -faithfully had I been her own child. Yet--I am ashamed to say it--I -always felt that I was not like them, that there was a subtle difference -between us. They were contented in prosperity, resigned in misfortune; I -was ever restless, and filled with vague ambitions. They were good, but -dull. They loved me, but they never said so. I feel that there is -warmer, richer blood coursing in my veins than the placid stream that -crept through theirs." - -"There will never be any such people to me as they were," said her -lover, "for they took you and brought you up for me." - -"Sometimes," she went on dreamily, "I feel sure that I am of good -family, and the blood of my ancestors seems to call to me in clear and -certain tones. Then again when my mood changes, I am all at sea--I feel -that even if I had but simply to turn my hand to learn who I am and -whence I came, I should shrink from taking the step, for fear that what -I might learn would leave me forever unhappy." - -"Dearest," he said, taking her in his arms, while from the hall and down -the corridor came the softened strains of music, "put aside these -unwholesome fancies. Your past is shrouded in mystery. Take my name, as -you have taken my love, and I 'll make your future so happy that you -won't have time to think of the past. What are a lot of musty, mouldy -old grandfathers, compared with life and love and happiness? It 's hardly -good form to mention one's ancestors nowadays, and what 's the use of -them at all if one can't boast of them?" - -"It 's all very well of you to talk that way," she rejoined. "But suppose -you should marry me, and when you become famous and rich, and patients -flock to your office, and fashionable people to your home, and every one -wants to know who you are and whence you came, you 'll be obliged to -bring out the governor, and the judge, and the rest of them. If you -should refrain, in order to forestall embarrassing inquiries about _my_ -ancestry, I should have deprived you of something you are entitled to, -something which has a real social value. And when people found out all -about you, as they eventually would from some source, they would want to -know--we Americans are a curious people--who your wife was, and you -could only say"---- - -"The best and sweetest woman on earth, whom I love unspeakably." - -"You know that is not what I mean. You could only say--a Miss Nobody, -from Nowhere." - -"A Miss Hohlfelder, from Cincinnati, the only child of worthy German -parents, who fled from their own country in '49 to escape political -persecution--an ancestry that one surely need not be ashamed of." - -"No; but the consciousness that it was not true would be always with -me, poisoning my mind, and darkening my life and yours." - -"Your views of life are entirely too tragic, Clara," the young man -argued soothingly. "We are all worms of the dust, and if we go back far -enough, each of us has had millions of ancestors; peasants and serfs, -most of them; thieves, murderers, and vagabonds, many of them, no doubt; -and therefore the best of us have but little to boast of. Yet we are all -made after God's own image, and formed by his hand, for his ends; and -therefore not to be lightly despised, even the humblest of us, least of -all by ourselves. For the past we can claim no credit, for those who -made it died with it. Our destiny lies in the future." - -"Yes," she sighed, "I know all that. But I am not like you. A woman is -not like a man; she cannot lose herself in theories and generalizations. -And there are tests that even all your philosophy could not endure. -Suppose you should marry me, and then some time, by the merest accident, -you should learn that my origin was the worst it could be--that I not -only had no name, but was not entitled to one." - -"I cannot believe it," he said, "and from what we do know of your -history it is hardly possible. If I learned it, I should forget it, -unless, perchance, it should enhance your value in my eyes, by stamping -you as a rare work of nature, an exception to the law of heredity, a -triumph of pure beauty and goodness over the grosser limitations of -matter. I cannot imagine, now that I know you, anything that could make -me love you less. I would marry you just the same--even if you were one -of your dancing-class to-night." - -"I must go back to them," said Clara, as the music ceased. - -"My answer," he urged, "give me my answer!" - -"Not to-night, John," she pleaded. "Grant me a little longer time to -make up my mind--for your sake." - -"Not for my sake, Clara, no." - -"Well--for mine." She let him take her in his arms and kiss her again. - -"I have a patient yet to see to-night," he said as he went out. "If I am -not detained too long, I may come back this way--if I see the lights in -the hall still burning. Do not wonder if I ask you again for my answer, -for I shall be unhappy until I get it." - - - -II - - -A stranger entering the hall with Miss Hohlfelder would have seen, at -first glance, only a company of well-dressed people, with nothing to -specially distinguish them from ordinary humanity in temperate climates. -After the eye had rested for a moment and begun to separate the mass -into its component parts, one or two dark faces would have arrested its -attention; and with the suggestion thus offered, a closer inspection -would have revealed that they were nearly all a little less than white. -With most of them this fact would not have been noticed, while they were -alone or in company with one another, though if a fair white person had -gone among them it would perhaps have been more apparent. From the few -who were undistinguishable from pure white, the colors ran down the -scale by minute gradations to the two or three brown faces at the other -extremity. - -It was Miss Hohlfelder's first colored class. She had been somewhat -startled when first asked to take it. No person of color had ever -applied to her for lessons; and while a woman of that race had played -the piano for her for several months, she had never thought of colored -people as possible pupils. So when she was asked if she would take a -class of twenty or thirty, she had hesitated, and begged for time to -consider the application. She knew that several of the more fashionable -dancing-schools tabooed all pupils, singly or in classes, who labored -under social disabilities--and this included the people of at least one -other race who were vastly farther along in the world than the colored -people of the community where Miss Hohlfelder lived. Personally she had -no such prejudice, except perhaps a little shrinking at the thought of -personal contact with the dark faces of whom Americans always think when -"colored people" are spoken of. Again, a class of forty pupils was not -to be despised, for she taught for money, which was equally current and -desirable, regardless of its color. She had consulted her -foster-parents, and after them her lover. Her foster-parents, who were -German-born, and had never become thoroughly Americanized, saw no -objection. As for her lover, he was indifferent. - -"Do as you please," he said. "It may drive away some other pupils. If -it should break up the business entirely, perhaps you might be willing -to give me a chance so much the sooner." - -She mentioned the matter to one or two other friends, who expressed -conflicting opinions. She decided at length to take the class, and take -the consequences. - -"I don't think it would be either right or kind to refuse them for any -such reason, and I don't believe I shall lose anything by it." - -She was somewhat surprised, and pleasantly so, when her class came -together for their first lesson, at not finding them darker and more -uncouth. Her pupils were mostly people whom she would have passed on the -street without a second glance, and among them were several whom she had -known by sight for years, but had never dreamed of as being colored -people. Their manners were good, they dressed quietly and as a rule with -good taste, avoiding rather than choosing bright colors and striking -combinations--whether from natural preference, or because of a slightly -morbid shrinking from criticism, of course she could not say. Among -them, the dancing-mistress soon learned, there were lawyers and doctors, -teachers, telegraph operators, clerks, milliners and dressmakers, -students of the local college and scientific school, and, somewhat to -her awe at the first meeting, even a member of the legislature. They -were mostly young, although a few light-hearted older people joined the -class, as much for company as for the dancing. - -"Of course, Miss Hohlfelder," explained Mr. Solomon Sadler, to whom the -teacher had paid a compliment on the quality of the class, "the more -advanced of us are not numerous enough to make the fine distinctions -that are possible among white people; and of course as we rise in life -we can't get entirely away from our brothers and our sisters and our -cousins, who don't always keep abreast of us. We do, however, draw -certain lines of character and manners and occupation. You see the sort -of people we are. Of course we have no prejudice against color, and we -regard all labor as honorable, provided a man does the best he can. But -we must have standards that will give our people something to aspire -to." - -The class was not a difficult one, as many of the members were already -fairly good dancers. Indeed the class had been formed as much for -pleasure as for instruction. Music and hall rent and a knowledge of the -latest dances could be obtained cheaper in this way than in any other. -The pupils had made rapid progress, displaying in fact a natural -aptitude for rhythmic motion, and a keen susceptibility to musical -sounds. As their race had never been criticised for these -characteristics, they gave them full play, and soon developed, most of -them, into graceful and indefatigable dancers. They were now almost at -the end of their course, and this was the evening of the last lesson but -one. - -Miss Hohlfelder had remarked to her lover more than once that it was a -pleasure to teach them. "They enter into the spirit of it so thoroughly, -and they seem to enjoy themselves so much." - -"One would think," he suggested, "that the whitest of them would find -their position painful and more or less pathetic; to be so white and yet -to be classed as black--so near and yet so far." - -"They don't accept our classification blindly. They do not acknowledge -any inferiority; they think they are a great deal better than any but -the best white people," replied Miss Hohlfelder. "And since they have -been coming here, do you know," she went on, "I hardly think of them as -any different from other people. I feel perfectly at home among them." - -"It is a great thing to have faith in one's self," he replied. "It is a -fine thing, too, to be able to enjoy the passing moment. One of your -greatest charms in my eyes, Clara, is that in your lighter moods you -have this faculty. You sing because you love to sing. You find pleasure -in dancing, even by way of work. You feel the _joie de vivre_--the joy -of living. You are not always so, but when you are so I think you most -delightful." - -Miss Hohlfelder, upon entering the hall, spoke to the pianist and then -exchanged a few words with various members of the class. The pianist -began to play a dreamy Strauss waltz. When the dance was well under way -Miss Hohlfelder left the hall again and stepped into the ladies' -dressing-room. There was a woman seated quietly on a couch in a corner, -her hands folded on her lap. - -"Good-evening, Miss Hohlfelder. You do not seem as bright as usual -to-night." - -Miss Hohlfelder felt a sudden yearning for sympathy. Perhaps it was the -gentle tones of the greeting; perhaps the kindly expression of the soft -though faded eyes that were scanning Miss Hohlfelder's features. The -woman was of the indefinite age between forty and fifty. There were -lines on her face which, if due to years, might have carried her even -past the half-century mark, but if caused by trouble or ill health might -leave her somewhat below it. She was quietly dressed in black, and wore -her slightly wavy hair low over her ears, where it lay naturally in the -ripples which some others of her sex so sedulously seek by art. A little -woman, of clear olive complexion and regular features, her face was -almost a perfect oval, except as time had marred its outline. She had -been in the habit of coming to the class with some young women of the -family she lived with, part boarder, part seamstress and friend of the -family. Sometimes, while waiting for her young charges, the music would -jar her nerves, and she would seek the comparative quiet of the -dressing-room. - -"Oh, I 'm all right, Mrs. Harper," replied the dancing-mistress, with a -brave attempt at cheerfulness,--"just a little tired, after a hard day's -work." - -She sat down on the couch by the elder woman's side. Mrs. Harper took -her hand and stroked it gently, and Clara felt soothed and quieted by -her touch. - -"There are tears in your eyes and trouble in your face. I know it, for I -have shed the one and known the other. Tell me, child, what ails you? I -am older than you, and perhaps I have learned some things in the hard -school of life that may be of comfort or service to you." - -Such a request, coming from a comparative stranger, might very properly -have been resented or lightly parried. But Clara was not what would be -called self-contained. Her griefs seemed lighter when they were shared -with others, even in spirit. There was in her nature a childish strain -that craved sympathy and comforting. She had never known--or if so it -was only in a dim and dreamlike past--the tender, brooding care that was -her conception of a mother's love. Mrs. Hohlfelder had been fond of her -in a placid way, and had given her every comfort and luxury her means -permitted. Clara's ideal of maternal love had been of another and more -romantic type; she had thought of a fond, impulsive mother, to whose -bosom she could fly when in trouble or distress, and to whom she could -communicate her sorrows and trials; who would dry her tears and soothe -her with caresses. Now, when even her kind foster-mother was gone, she -felt still more the need of sympathy and companionship with her own sex; -and when this little Mrs. Harper spoke to her so gently, she felt her -heart respond instinctively. - -"Yes, Mrs. Harper," replied Clara with a sigh, "I am in trouble, but it -is trouble that you nor any one else can heal." - -"You do not know, child. A simple remedy can sometimes cure a very grave -complaint. Tell me your trouble, if it is something you are at liberty -to tell." - -"I have a story," said Clara, "and it is a strange one,--a story I have -told to but one other person, one very dear to me." - -"He must be dear to you indeed, from the tone in which you speak of him. -Your very accents breathe love." - -"Yes, I love him, and if you saw him--perhaps you have seen him, for he -has looked in here once or twice during the dancing-lessons--you would -know why I love him. He is handsome, he is learned, he is ambitious, he -is brave, he is good; he is poor, but he will not always be so; and he -loves me, oh, so much!" - -The other woman smiled. "It is not so strange to love, nor yet to be -loved. And all lovers are handsome and brave and fond." - -"That is not all of my story. He wants to marry me." Clara paused, as if -to let this statement impress itself upon the other. - -"True lovers always do," said the elder woman. - -"But sometimes, you know, there are circumstances which prevent them." - -"Ah yes," murmured the other reflectively, and looking at the girl with -deeper interest, "circumstances which prevent them. I have known of such -a case." - -"The circumstance which prevents us from marrying is my story." - -"Tell me your story, child, and perhaps, if I cannot help you otherwise, -I can tell you one that will make yours seem less sad." - -"You know me," said the young woman, "as Miss Hohlfelder; but that is -not actually my name. In fact I do not know my real name, for I am not -the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Hohlfelder, but only an adopted child. -While Mrs. Hohlfelder lived, I never knew that I was not her child. I -knew I was very different from her and father,--I mean Mr. Hohlfelder. I -knew they were fair and I was dark; they were stout and I was slender; -they were slow and I was quick. But of course I never dreamed of the -true reason of this difference. When mother--Mrs. Hohlfelder--died, I -found among her things one day a little packet, carefully wrapped up, -containing a child's slip and some trinkets. The paper wrapper of the -packet bore an inscription that awakened my curiosity. I asked father -Hohlfelder whose the things had been, and then for the first time I -learned my real story. - -"I was not their own daughter, he stated, but an adopted child. -Twenty-three years ago, when he had lived in St. Louis, a steamboat -explosion had occurred up the river, and on a piece of wreckage floating -down stream, a girl baby had been found. There was nothing on the child -to give a hint of its home or parentage; and no one came to claim it, -though the fact that a child had been found was advertised all along the -river. It was believed that the infant's parents must have perished in -the wreck, and certainly no one of those who were saved could identify -the child. There had been a passenger list on board the steamer, but the -list, with the officer who kept it, had been lost in the accident. The -child was turned over to an orphan asylum, from which within a year it -was adopted by the two kind-hearted and childless German people who -brought it up as their own. I was that child." - -The woman seated by Clara's side had listened with strained attention. -"Did you learn the name of the steamboat?" she asked quietly, but -quickly, when Clara paused. - -"The Pride of St. Louis," answered Clara. She did not look at Mrs. -Harper, but was gazing dreamily toward the front, and therefore did not -see the expression that sprang into the other's face,--a look in which -hope struggled with fear, and yearning love with both,--nor the strong -effort with which Mrs. Harper controlled herself and moved not one -muscle while the other went on. - -"I was never sought," Clara continued, "and the good people who brought -me up gave me every care. Father and mother--I can never train my tongue -to call them anything else--were very good to me. When they adopted me -they were poor; he was a pharmacist with a small shop. Later on he moved -to Cincinnati, where he made and sold a popular 'patent' medicine and -amassed a fortune. Then I went to a fashionable school, was taught -French, and deportment, and dancing. Father Hohlfelder made some bad -investments, and lost most of his money. The patent medicine fell off in -popularity. A year or two ago we came to this city to live. Father -bought this block and opened the little drug store below. We moved into -the rooms upstairs. The business was poor, and I felt that I ought to do -something to earn money and help support the family. I could dance; we -had this hall, and it was not rented all the time, so I opened a -dancing-school." - -"Tell me, child," said the other woman, with restrained eagerness, "what -were the things found upon you when you were taken from the river?" - -"Yes," answered the girl, "I will. But I have not told you all my story, -for this is but the prelude. About a year ago a young doctor rented an -office in our block. We met each other, at first only now and then, and -afterwards oftener; and six months ago he told me that he loved me." - -She paused, and sat with half opened lips and dreamy eyes, looking back -into the past six months. - -"And the things found upon you"---- - -"Yes, I will show them to you when you have heard all my story. He -wanted to marry me, and has asked me every week since. I have told him -that I love him, but I have not said I would marry him. I don't think it -would be right for me to do so, unless I could clear up this mystery. I -believe he is going to be great and rich and famous, and there might -come a time when he would be ashamed of me. I don't say that I shall -never marry him; for I have hoped--I have a presentiment that in some -strange way I shall find out who I am, and who my parents were. It may -be mere imagination on my part, but somehow I believe it is more than -that." - -"Are you sure there was no mark on the things that were found upon you?" -said the elder woman. - -"Ah yes," sighed Clara, "I am sure, for I have looked at them a hundred -times. They tell me nothing, and yet they suggest to me many things. -Come," she said, taking the other by the hand, "and I will show them to -you." - -She led the way along the hall to her sitting-room, and to her -bedchamber beyond. It was a small room hung with paper showing a pattern -of morning-glories on a light ground, with dotted muslin curtains, a -white iron bedstead, a few prints on the wall, a rocking-chair--a very -dainty room. She went to the maple dressing-case, and opened one of the -drawers. - -As they stood for a moment, the mirror reflecting and framing their -image, more than one point of resemblance between them was emphasized. -There was something of the same oval face, and in Clara's hair a faint -suggestion of the wave in the older woman's; and though Clara was fairer -of complexion, and her eyes were gray and the other's black, there was -visible, under the influence of the momentary excitement, one of those -indefinable likenesses which are at times encountered,--sometimes -marking blood relationship, sometimes the impress of a common training; -in one case perhaps a mere earmark of temperament, and in another the -index of a type. Except for the difference in color, one might imagine -that if the younger woman were twenty years older the resemblance would -be still more apparent. - -Clara reached her hand into the drawer and drew out a folded packet, -which she unwrapped, Mrs. Harper following her movements meanwhile with -a suppressed intensity of interest which Clara, had she not been -absorbed in her own thoughts, could not have failed to observe. - -When the last fold of paper was removed there lay revealed a child's -muslin slip. Clara lifted it and shook it gently until it was unfolded -before their eyes. The lower half was delicately worked in a lacelike -pattern, revealing an immense amount of patient labor. - -The elder woman seized the slip with hands which could not disguise -their trembling. Scanning the garment carefully, she seemed to be noting -the pattern of the needlework, and then, pointing to a certain spot, -exclaimed:---- - -"I thought so! I was sure of it! Do you not see the letters--M.S.?" - -"Oh, how wonderful!" Clara seized the slip in turn and scanned the -monogram. "How strange that you should see that at once and that I -should not have discovered it, who have looked at it a hundred times! -And here," she added, opening a small package which had been inclosed in -the other, "is my coral necklace. Perhaps your keen eyes can find -something in that." - -It was a simple trinket, at which the older woman gave but a glance--a -glance that added to her emotion. - -"Listen, child," she said, laying her trembling hand on the other's arm. -"It is all very strange and wonderful, for that slip and necklace, and, -now that I have seen them, your face and your voice and your ways, all -tell me who you are. Your eyes are your father's eyes, your voice is -your father's voice. The slip was worked by your mother's hand." - -"Oh!" cried Clara, and for a moment the whole world swam before her -eyes. - -"I was on the Pride of St. Louis, and I knew your father--and your -mother." - -Clara, pale with excitement, burst into tears, and would have fallen had -not the other woman caught her in her arms. Mrs. Harper placed her on -the couch, and, seated by her side, supported her head on her shoulder. -Her hands seemed to caress the young woman with every touch. - -"Tell me, oh, tell me all!" Clara demanded, when the first wave of -emotion had subsided. "Who were my father and my mother, and who am I?" - -The elder woman restrained her emotion with an effort, and answered as -composedly as she could,---- - -"There were several hundred passengers on the Pride of St. Louis when -she left Cincinnati on that fateful day, on her regular trip to New -Orleans. Your father and mother were on the boat--and I was on the boat. -We were going down the river, to take ship at New Orleans for France, a -country which your father loved." - -"Who was my father?" asked Clara. The woman's words fell upon her ear -like water on a thirsty soil. - -"Your father was a Virginia gentleman, and belonged to one of the first -families, the Staffords, of Melton County." - -Clara drew herself up unconsciously, and into her face there came a -frank expression of pride which became it wonderfully, setting off a -beauty that needed only this to make it all but perfect of its type. - -"I knew it must be so," she murmured. "I have often felt it. Blood will -always tell. And my mother?" - -"Your mother--also belonged to one of the first families of Virginia, -and in her veins flowed some of the best blood of the Old Dominion." - -"What was her maiden name?" - -"Mary Fairfax. As I was saying, your father was a Virginia gentleman. He -was as handsome a man as ever lived, and proud, oh, so proud!--and good, -and kind. He was a graduate of the University and had studied abroad." - -"My mother--was she beautiful?" - -"She was much admired, and your father loved her from the moment he -first saw her. Your father came back from Europe, upon his father's -sudden death, and entered upon his inheritance. But he had been away -from Virginia so long, and had read so many books, that he had outgrown -his home. He did not believe that slavery was right, and one of the -first things he did was to free his slaves. His views were not popular, -and he sold out his lands a year before the war, with the intention of -moving to Europe." - -"In the mean time he had met and loved and married my mother?" - -"In the mean time he had met and loved your mother." - -"My mother was a Virginia belle, was she not?" - -"The Fairfaxes," answered Mrs. Harper, "were the first of the first -families, the bluest of the blue-bloods. The Miss Fairfaxes were all -beautiful and all social favorites." - -"What did my father do then, when he had sold out in Virginia?" - -"He went with your mother and you--you were then just a year old--to -Cincinnati, to settle up some business connected with his estate. When -he had completed his business, he embarked on the Pride of St. Louis -with you and your mother and a colored nurse." - -"And how did you know about them?" asked Clara. - -"I was one of the party. I was"---- - -"You were the colored nurse?--my 'mammy,' they would have called you in -my old Virginia home?" - -"Yes, child, I was--your mammy. Upon my bosom you have rested; my -breasts once gave you nourishment; my hands once ministered to you; my -arms sheltered you, and my heart loved you and mourned you like a mother -loves and mourns her firstborn." - -"Oh, how strange, how delightful!" exclaimed Clara. "Now I understand -why you clasped me so tightly, and were so agitated when I told you my -story. It is too good for me to believe. I am of good blood, of an old -and aristocratic family. My presentiment has come true. I can marry my -lover, and I shall owe all my happiness to you. How can I ever repay -you?" - -"You can kiss me, child, kiss your mammy." - -Their lips met, and they were clasped in each other's arms. One put into -the embrace all of her new-found joy, the other all the suppressed -feeling of the last half hour, which in turn embodied the unsatisfied -yearning of many years. - -The music had ceased and the pupils had left the hall. Mrs. Harper's -charges had supposed her gone, and had left for home without her. But -the two women, sitting in Clara's chamber, hand in hand, were oblivious -to external things and noticed neither the hour nor the cessation of the -music. - -"Why, dear mammy," said the young woman musingly, "did you not find me, -and restore me to my people?" - -"Alas, child! I was not white, and when I was picked up from the water, -after floating miles down the river, the man who found me kept me -prisoner for a time, and, there being no inquiry for me, pretended not -to believe that I was free, and took me down to New Orleans and sold me -as a slave. A few years later the war set me free. I went to St. Louis -but could find no trace of you. I had hardly dared to hope that a child -had been saved, when so many grown men and women had lost their lives. I -made such inquiries as I could, but all in vain." - -"Did you go to the orphan asylum?" - -"The orphan asylum had been burned and with it all the records. The war -had scattered the people so that I could find no one who knew about a -lost child saved from a river wreck. There were many orphans in those -days, and one more or less was not likely to dwell in the public mind." - -"Did you tell my people in Virginia?" - -"They, too, were scattered by the war. Your uncles lost their lives on -the battlefield. The family mansion was burned to the ground. Your -father's remaining relatives were reduced to poverty, and moved away -from Virginia." - -"What of my mother's people?" - -"They are all dead. God punished them. They did not love your father, -and did not wish him to marry your mother. They helped to drive him to -his death." - -"I am alone in the world, then, without kith or kin," murmured Clara, -"and yet, strange to say, I am happy. If I had known my people and lost -them, I should be sad. They are gone, but they have left me their name -and their blood. I would weep for my poor father and mother if I were -not so glad." - -Just then some one struck a chord upon the piano in the hall, and the -sudden breaking of the stillness recalled Clara's attention to the -lateness of the hour. - -"I had forgotten about the class," she exclaimed. "I must go and attend -to them." - -They walked along the corridor and entered the hall. Dr. Winthrop was -seated at the piano, drumming idly on the keys. - -"I did not know where you had gone," he said. "I knew you would be -around, of course, since the lights were not out, and so I came in here -to wait for you." - -"Listen, John, I have a wonderful story to tell you." - -Then she told him Mrs. Harper's story. He listened attentively and -sympathetically, at certain points taking his eyes from Clara's face and -glancing keenly at Mrs. Harper, who was listening intently. As he looked -from one to the other he noticed the resemblance between them, and -something in his expression caused Mrs. Harper's eyes to fall, and then -glance up appealingly. - -"And now," said Clara, "I am happy. I know my name. I am a Virginia -Stafford. I belong to one, yes, to two of what were the first families -of Virginia. John, my family is as good as yours. If I remember my -history correctly, the Cavaliers looked down upon the Roundheads." - -"I admit my inferiority," he replied. "If you are happy I am glad." - -"Clara Stafford," mused the girl. "It is a pretty name." - -"You will never have to use it," her lover declared, "for now you will -take mine." - -"Then I shall have nothing left of all that I have found"---- - -"Except your husband," asserted Dr. Winthrop, putting his arm around -her, with an air of assured possession. - -Mrs. Harper was looking at them with moistened eyes in which joy and -sorrow, love and gratitude, were strangely blended. Clara put out her -hand to her impulsively. - -"And my mammy," she cried, "my dear Virginia mammy." - - - - -The Sheriffs Children - - -Branson County, North Carolina, is in a sequestered district of one of -the staidest and most conservative States of the Union. Society in -Branson County is almost primitive in its simplicity. Most of the white -people own the farms they till, and even before the war there were no -very wealthy families to force their neighbors, by comparison, into the -category of "poor whites." - -To Branson County, as to most rural communities in the South, the war is -the one historical event that overshadows all others. It is the era from -which all local chronicles are dated,--births, deaths, marriages, -storms, freshets. No description of the life of any Southern community -would be perfect that failed to emphasize the all pervading influence of -the great conflict. - -Yet the fierce tide of war that had rushed through the cities and along -the great highways of the country had comparatively speaking but -slightly disturbed the sluggish current of life in this region, remote -from railroads and navigable streams. To the north in Virginia, to the -west in Tennessee, and all along the seaboard the war had raged; but the -thunder of its cannon had not disturbed the echoes of Branson County, -where the loudest sounds heard were the crack of some hunter's rifle, -the baying of some deep-mouthed hound, or the yodel of some tuneful -negro on his way through the pine forest. To the east, Sherman's army -had passed on its march to the sea; but no straggling band of "bummers" -had penetrated the confines of Branson County. The war, it is true, had -robbed the county of the flower of its young manhood; but the burden of -taxation, the doubt and uncertainty of the conflict, and the sting of -ultimate defeat, had been borne by the people with an apathy that robbed -misfortune of half its sharpness. - -The nearest approach to town life afforded by Branson County is found in -the little village of Troy, the county seat, a hamlet with a population -of four or five hundred. - -Ten years make little difference in the appearance of these remote -Southern towns. If a railroad is built through one of them, it infuses -some enterprise; the social corpse is galvanized by the fresh blood of -civilization that pulses along the farthest ramifications of our great -system of commercial highways. At the period of which I write, no -railroad had come to Troy. If a traveler, accustomed to the bustling -life of cities, could have ridden through Troy on a summer day, he might -easily have fancied himself in a deserted village. Around him he would -have seen weather-beaten houses, innocent of paint, the shingled roofs -in many instances covered with a rich growth of moss. Here and there he -would have met a razor-backed hog lazily rooting his way along the -principal thoroughfare; and more than once he would probably have had to -disturb the slumbers of some yellow dog, dozing away the hours in the -ardent sunshine, and reluctantly yielding up his place in the middle of -the dusty road. - -On Saturdays the village presented a somewhat livelier appearance, and -the shade trees around the court house square and along Front Street -served as hitching-posts for a goodly number of horses and mules and -stunted oxen, belonging to the farmer-folk who had come in to trade at -the two or three local stores. - -A murder was a rare event in Branson County. Every well-informed citizen -could tell the number of homicides committed in the county for fifty -years back, and whether the slayer, in any given instance, had escaped, -either by flight or acquittal, or had suffered the penalty of the law. -So, when it became known in Troy early one Friday morning in summer, -about ten years after the war, that old Captain Walker, who had served -in Mexico under Scott, and had left an arm on the field of Gettysburg, -had been foully murdered during the night, there was intense excitement -in the village. Business was practically suspended, and the citizens -gathered in little groups to discuss the murder, and speculate upon the -identity of the murderer. It transpired from testimony at the coroner's -inquest, held during the morning, that a strange mulatto had been seen -going in the direction of Captain Walker's house the night before, and -had been met going away from Troy early Friday morning, by a farmer on -his way to town. Other circumstances seemed to connect the stranger with -the crime. The sheriff organized a posse to search for him, and early in -the evening, when most of the citizens of Troy were at supper, the -suspected man was brought in and lodged in the county jail. - -By the following morning the news of the capture had spread to the -farthest limits of the county. A much larger number of people than usual -came to town that Saturday,--bearded men in straw hats and blue homespun -shirts, and butternut trousers of great amplitude of material and -vagueness of outline; women in homespun frocks and slat-bonnets, with -faces as expressionless as the dreary sandhills which gave them a meagre -sustenance. - -The murder was almost the sole topic of conversation. A steady stream of -curious observers visited the house of mourning, and gazed upon the -rugged face of the old veteran, now stiff and cold in death; and more -than one eye dropped a tear at the remembrance of the cheery smile, and -the joke--sometimes superannuated, generally feeble, but always -good-natured--with which the captain had been wont to greet his -acquaintances. There was a growing sentiment of anger among these stern -men, toward the murderer who had thus cut down their friend, and a -strong feeling that ordinary justice was too slight a punishment for -such a crime. - -Toward noon there was an informal gathering of citizens in Dan Tyson's -store. - -"I hear it 'lowed that Square Kyahtah's too sick ter hol' co'te this -evenin'," said one, "an' that the purlim'nary hearin' 'll haf ter go -over 'tel nex' week." - -A look of disappointment went round the crowd. - -"Hit 's the durndes', meanes' murder ever committed in this caounty," -said another, with moody emphasis. - -"I s'pose the nigger 'lowed the Cap'n had some green-backs," observed a -third speaker. - -"The Cap'n," said another, with an air of superior information, "has -left two bairls of Confedrit money, which he 'spected 'ud be good some -day er nuther." - -This statement gave rise to a discussion of the speculative value of -Confederate money; but in a little while the conversation returned to -the murder. - -"Hangin' air too good fer the murderer," said one; "he oughter be burnt, -stidier bein' hung." - -There was an impressive pause at this point, during which a jug of -moonlight whiskey went the round of the crowd. - -"Well," said a round-shouldered farmer, who, in spite of his peaceable -expression and faded gray eye, was known to have been one of the most -daring followers of a rebel guerrilla chieftain, "what air yer gwine ter -do about it? Ef you fellers air gwine ter set down an' let a wuthless -nigger kill the bes' white man in Branson, an' not say nuthin' ner do -nuthin', _I 'll_ move outen the caounty." - -This speech gave tone and direction to the rest of the conversation. -Whether the fear of losing the round-shouldered farmer operated to bring -about the result or not is immaterial to this narrative; but, at all -events, the crowd decided to lynch the negro. They agreed that this was -the least that could be done to avenge the death of their murdered -friend, and that it was a becoming way in which to honor his memory. -They had some vague notions of the majesty of the law and the rights of -the citizen, but in the passion of the moment these sunk into oblivion; -a white man had been killed by a negro. - -"The Cap'n was an ole sodger," said one of his friends solemnly. "He 'll -sleep better when he knows that a co'te-martial has be'n hilt an' -jestice done." - -By agreement the lynchers were to meet at Tyson's store at five o'clock -in the afternoon, and proceed thence to the jail, which was situated -down the Lumberton Dirt Road (as the old turnpike antedating the -plank-road was called), about half a mile south of the court-house. When -the preliminaries of the lynching had been arranged, and a committee -appointed to manage the affair, the crowd dispersed, some to go to their -dinners, and some to secure recruits for the lynching party. - -It was twenty minutes to five o'clock, when an excited negro, panting -and perspiring, rushed up to the back door of Sheriff Campbell's -dwelling, which stood at a little distance from the jail and somewhat -farther than the latter building from the court-house. A turbaned -colored woman came to the door in response to the negro's knock. - -"Hoddy, Sis' Nance." - -"Hoddy, Brer Sam." - -"Is de shurff in," inquired the negro. - -"Yas, Brer Sam, he 's eatin' his dinner," was the answer. - -"Will yer ax 'im ter step ter de do' a minute, Sis' Nance?" - -The woman went into the dining-room, and a moment later the sheriff came -to the door. He was a tall, muscular man, of a ruddier complexion than -is usual among Southerners. A pair of keen, deep-set gray eyes looked -out from under bushy eyebrows, and about his mouth was a masterful -expression, which a full beard, once sandy in color, but now profusely -sprinkled with gray, could not entirely conceal. The day was hot; the -sheriff had discarded his coat and vest, and had his white shirt open at -the throat. - -"What do you want, Sam?" he inquired of the negro, who stood hat in -hand, wiping the moisture from his face with a ragged shirt-sleeve. - -"Shurff, dey gwine ter hang de pris'ner w'at 's lock' up in de jail. -Dey 're comin' dis a-way now. I wuz layin' down on a sack er corn down at -de sto', behine a pile er flour-bairls, w'en I hearn Doc' Cain en Kunnel -Wright talkin' erbout it. I slip' outen de back do', en run here as fas' -as I could. I hearn you say down ter de sto' once't dat you would n't -let nobody take a pris'ner 'way fum you widout walkin' over yo' dead -body, en I thought I 'd let you know 'fo' dey come, so yer could pertec' -de pris'ner." - -The sheriff listened calmly, but his face grew firmer, and a determined -gleam lit up his gray eyes. His frame grew more erect, and he -unconsciously assumed the attitude of a soldier who momentarily expects -to meet the enemy face to face. - -"Much obliged, Sam," he answered. "I 'll protect the prisoner. Who 's -coming?" - -"I dunno who-all _is_ comin'," replied the negro. "Dere 's Mistah -McSwayne, en Doc' Cain, en Maje' McDonal', en Kunnel Wright, en a heap -er yuthers. I wuz so skeered I done furgot mo' d'n half un em. I spec' -dey mus' be mos' here by dis time, so I 'll git outen de way, fer I don' -want nobody fer ter think I wuz mix' up in dis business." The negro -glanced nervously down the road toward the town, and made a movement as -if to go away. - -"Won't you have some dinner first?" asked the sheriff. - -The negro looked longingly in at the open door, and sniffed the -appetizing odor of boiled pork and collards. - -"I ain't got no time fer ter tarry, Shurff," he said, "but Sis' Nance -mought gin me sump'n I could kyar in my han' en eat on de way." - -A moment later Nancy brought him a huge sandwich of split corn-pone, -with a thick slice of fat bacon inserted between the halves, and a -couple of baked yams. The negro hastily replaced his ragged hat on his -head, dropped the yams in the pocket of his capacious trousers, and, -taking the sandwich in his hand, hurried across the road and disappeared -in the woods beyond. - -The sheriff reëntered the house, and put on his coat and hat. He then -took down a double-barreled shotgun and loaded it with buckshot. Filling -the chambers of a revolver with fresh cartridges, he slipped it into the -pocket of the sack-coat which he wore. - -A comely young woman in a calico dress watched these proceedings with -anxious surprise. - -"Where are you going, father?" she asked. She had not heard the -conversation with the negro. - -"I am goin' over to the jail," responded the sheriff. "There 's a mob -comin' this way to lynch the nigger we 've got locked up. But they won't -do it," he added, with emphasis. - -"Oh, father! don't go!" pleaded the girl, clinging to his arm; "they 'll -shoot you if you don't give him up." - -"You never mind me, Polly," said her father reassuringly, as he gently -unclasped her hands from his arm. "I 'll take care of myself and the -prisoner, too. There ain't a man in Branson County that would shoot me. -Besides, I have faced fire too often to be scared away from my duty. You -keep close in the house," he continued, "and if any one disturbs you -just use the old horse-pistol in the top bureau drawer. It 's a little -old-fashioned, but it did good work a few years ago." - -The young girl shuddered at this sanguinary allusion, but made no -further objection to her father's departure. - -The sheriff of Branson was a man far above the average of the community -in wealth, education, and social position. His had been one of the few -families in the county that before the war had owned large estates and -numerous slaves. He had graduated at the State University at Chapel -Hill, and had kept up some acquaintance with current literature and -advanced thought. He had traveled some in his youth, and was looked up -to in the county as an authority on all subjects connected with the -outer world. At first an ardent supporter of the Union, he had opposed -the secession movement in his native State as long as opposition availed -to stem the tide of public opinion. Yielding at last to the force of -circumstances, he had entered the Confederate service rather late in the -war, and served with distinction through several campaigns, rising in -time to the rank of colonel. After the war he had taken the oath of -allegiance, and had been chosen by the people as the most available -candidate for the office of sheriff, to which he had been elected -without opposition. He had filled the office for several terms, and was -universally popular with his constituents. - -Colonel or Sheriff Campbell, as he was indifferently called, as the -military or civil title happened to be most important in the opinion of -the person addressing him, had a high sense of the responsibility -attaching to his office. He had sworn to do his duty faithfully, and he -knew what his duty was, as sheriff, perhaps more clearly than he had -apprehended it in other passages of his life. It was, therefore, with no -uncertainty in regard to his course that he prepared his weapons and -went over to the jail. He had no fears for Polly's safety. - -The sheriff had just locked the heavy front door of the jail behind him -when a half dozen horsemen, followed by a crowd of men on foot, came -round a bend in the road and drew near the jail. They halted in front of -the picket fence that surrounded the building, while several of the -committee of arrangements rode on a few rods farther to the sheriff's -house. One of them dismounted and rapped on the door with his -riding-whip. - -"Is the sheriff at home?" he inquired. - -"No, he has just gone out," replied Polly, who had come to the door. - -"We want the jail keys," he continued. - -"They are not here," said Polly. "The sheriff has them himself." Then -she added, with assumed indifference, "He is at the jail now." - -The man turned away, and Polly went into the front room, from which she -peered anxiously between the slats of the green blinds of a window that -looked toward the jail. Meanwhile the messenger returned to his -companions and announced his discovery. It looked as though the sheriff -had learned of their design and was preparing to resist it. - -One of them stepped forward and rapped on the jail door. - -"Well, what is it?" said the sheriff, from within. - -"We want to talk to you, Sheriff," replied the spokesman. - -There was a little wicket in the door; this the sheriff opened, and -answered through it. - -"All right, boys, talk away. You are all strangers to me, and I don't -know what business you can have." The sheriff did not think it necessary -to recognize anybody in particular on such an occasion; the question of -identity sometimes comes up in the investigation of these extra-judicial -executions. - -"We 're a committee of citizens and we want to get into the jail." - -"What for? It ain't much trouble to get into jail. Most people want to -keep out." - -The mob was in no humor to appreciate a joke, and the sheriff's -witticism fell dead upon an unresponsive audience. - -"We want to have a talk with the nigger that killed Cap'n Walker." - -"You can talk to that nigger in the court-house, when he 's brought out -for trial. Court will be in session here next week. I know what you -fellows want, but you can't get my prisoner to-day. Do you want to take -the bread out of a poor man's mouth? I get seventy-five cents a day for -keeping this prisoner, and he 's the only one in jail. I can't have my -family suffer just to please you fellows." - -One or two young men in the crowd laughed at the idea of Sheriff -Campbell's suffering for want of seventy-five cents a day; but they were -frowned into silence by those who stood near them. - -"Ef yer don't let us in," cried a voice, "we 'll bu's' the do' open." - -"Bust away," answered the sheriff, raising his voice so that all could -hear. "But I give you fair warning. The first man that tries it will be -filled with buckshot. I 'm sheriff of this county; I know my duty, and I -mean to do it." - -"What 's the use of kicking, Sheriff," argued one of the leaders of the -mob. "The nigger is sure to hang anyhow; he richly deserves it; and we 've -got to do something to teach the niggers their places, or white people -won't be able to live in the county." - -"There 's no use talking, boys," responded the sheriff. "I 'm a white -man outside, but in this jail I 'm sheriff; and if this nigger 's to be -hung in this county, I propose to do the hanging. So you fellows might -as well right-about-face, and march back to Troy. You 've had a pleasant -trip, and the exercise will be good for you. You know _me_. I 've got -powder and ball, and I 've faced fire before now, with nothing between -me and the enemy, and I don't mean to surrender this jail while I 'm -able to shoot." Having thus announced his determination, the sheriff -closed and fastened the wicket, and looked around for the best position -from which to defend the building. - -The crowd drew off a little, and the leaders conversed together in low -tones. - -The Branson County jail was a small, two-story brick building, strongly -constructed, with no attempt at architectural ornamentation. Each story -was divided into two large cells by a passage running from front to -rear. A grated iron door gave entrance from the passage to each of the -four cells. The jail seldom had many prisoners in it, and the lower -windows had been boarded up. When the sheriff had closed the wicket, he -ascended the steep wooden stairs to the upper floor. There was no window -at the front of the upper passage, and the most available position from -which to watch the movements of the crowd below was the front window of -the cell occupied by the solitary prisoner. - -The sheriff unlocked the door and entered the cell. The prisoner was -crouched in a corner, his yellow face, blanched with terror, looking -ghastly in the semi-darkness of the room. A cold perspiration had -gathered on his forehead, and his teeth were chattering with affright. - -"For God's sake, Sheriff," he murmured hoarsely, "don't let 'em lynch -me; I did n't kill the old man." - -The sheriff glanced at the cowering wretch with a look of mingled -contempt and loathing. - -"Get up," he said sharply. "You will probably be hung sooner or later, -but it shall not be to-day, if I can help it. I 'll unlock your fetters, -and if I can't hold the jail, you 'll have to make the best fight you -can. If I 'm shot, I 'll consider my responsibility at an end." - -There were iron fetters on the prisoner's ankles, and handcuffs on his -wrists. These the sheriff unlocked, and they fell clanking to the floor. - -"Keep back from the window," said the sheriff. "They might shoot if they -saw you." - -The sheriff drew toward the window a pine bench which formed a part of -the scanty furniture of the cell, and laid his revolver upon it. Then he -took his gun in hand, and took his stand at the side of the window where -he could with least exposure of himself watch the movements of the crowd -below. - -The lynchers had not anticipated any determined resistance. Of course -they had looked for a formal protest, and perhaps a sufficient show of -opposition to excuse the sheriff in the eye of any stickler for legal -formalities. They had not however come prepared to fight a battle, and -no one of them seemed willing to lead an attack upon the jail. The -leaders of the party conferred together with a good deal of animated -gesticulation, which was visible to the sheriff from his outlook, though -the distance was too great for him to hear what was said. At length one -of them broke away from the group, and rode back to the main body of the -lynchers, who were restlessly awaiting orders. - -"Well, boys," said the messenger, "we 'll have to let it go for the -present. The sheriff says he 'll shoot, and he 's got the drop on us -this time. There ain't any of us that want to follow Cap'n Walker jest -yet. Besides, the sheriff is a good fellow, and we don't want to hurt -'im. But," he added, as if to reassure the crowd, which began to show -signs of disappointment, "the nigger might as well say his prayers, for -he ain't got long to live." - -There was a murmur of dissent from the mob, and several voices insisted -that an attack be made on the jail. But pacific counsels finally -prevailed, and the mob sullenly withdrew. - -The sheriff stood at the window until they had disappeared around the -bend in the road. He did not relax his watchfulness when the last one -was out of sight. Their withdrawal might be a mere feint, to be -followed by a further attempt. So closely, indeed, was his attention -drawn to the outside, that he neither saw nor heard the prisoner creep -stealthily across the floor, reach out his hand and secure the revolver -which lay on the bench behind the sheriff, and creep as noiselessly back -to his place in the corner of the room. - -A moment after the last of the lynching party had disappeared there was -a shot fired from the woods across the road; a bullet whistled by the -window and buried itself in the wooden casing a few inches from where -the sheriff was standing. Quick as thought, with the instinct born of a -semi-guerrilla army experience, he raised his gun and fired twice at the -point from which a faint puff of smoke showed the hostile bullet to have -been sent. He stood a moment watching, and then rested his gun against -the window, and reached behind him mechanically for the other weapon. It -was not on the bench. As the sheriff realized this fact, he turned his -head and looked into the muzzle of the revolver. - -"Stay where you are, Sheriff," said the prisoner, his eyes glistening, -his face almost ruddy with excitement. - -The sheriff mentally cursed his own carelessness for allowing him to be -caught in such a predicament. He had not expected anything of the kind. -He had relied on the negro's cowardice and subordination in the presence -of an armed white man as a matter of course. The sheriff was a brave -man, but realized that the prisoner had him at an immense disadvantage. -The two men stood thus for a moment, fighting a harmless duel with their -eyes. - -"Well, what do you mean to do?" asked the sheriff with apparent -calmness. - -"To get away, of course," said the prisoner, in a tone which caused the -sheriff to look at him more closely, and with an involuntary feeling of -apprehension; if the man was not mad, he was in a state of mind akin to -madness, and quite as dangerous. The sheriff felt that he must speak the -prisoner fair, and watch for a chance to turn the tables on him. The -keen-eyed, desperate man before him was a different being altogether -from the groveling wretch who had begged so piteously for life a few -minutes before. - -At length the sheriff spoke:---- - -"Is this your gratitude to me for saving your life at the risk of my -own? If I had not done so, you would now be swinging from the limb of -some neighboring tree." - -"True," said the prisoner, "you saved my life, but for how long? When -you came in, you said Court would sit next week. When the crowd went -away they said I had not long to live. It is merely a choice of two -ropes." - -"While there 's life there 's hope," replied the sheriff. He uttered -this commonplace mechanically, while his brain was busy in trying to -think out some way of escape. "If you are innocent you can prove it." - -The mulatto kept his eye upon the sheriff. "I did n't kill the old man," -he replied; "but I shall never be able to clear myself. I was at his -house at nine o'clock. I stole from it the coat that was on my back when -I was taken. I would be convicted, even with a fair trial, unless the -real murderer were discovered beforehand." - -The sheriff knew this only too well. While he was thinking what argument -next to use, the prisoner continued:---- - -"Throw me the keys--no, unlock the door." - -The sheriff stood a moment irresolute. The mulatto's eye glittered -ominously. The sheriff crossed the room and unlocked the door leading -into the passage. - -"Now go down and unlock the outside door." - -The heart of the sheriff leaped within him. Perhaps he might make a dash -for liberty, and gain the outside. He descended the narrow stairs, the -prisoner keeping close behind him. - -The sheriff inserted the huge iron key into the lock. The rusty bolt -yielded slowly. It still remained for him to pull the door open. - -"Stop!" thundered the mulatto, who seemed to divine the sheriff's -purpose. "Move a muscle, and I 'll blow your brains out." - -The sheriff obeyed; he realized that his chance had not yet come. - -"Now keep on that side of the passage, and go back upstairs." - -Keeping the sheriff under cover of the revolver, the mulatto followed -him up the stairs. The sheriff expected the prisoner to lock him into -the cell and make his own escape. He had about come to the conclusion -that the best thing he could do under the circumstances was to submit -quietly, and take his chances of recapturing the prisoner after the -alarm had been given. The sheriff had faced death more than once upon -the battlefield. A few minutes before, well armed, and with a brick wall -between him and them he had dared a hundred men to fight; but he felt -instinctively that the desperate man confronting him was not to be -trifled with, and he was too prudent a man to risk his life against such -heavy odds. He had Polly to look after, and there was a limit beyond -which devotion to duty would be quixotic and even foolish. - -"I want to get away," said the prisoner, "and I don't want to be -captured; for if I am I know I will be hung on the spot. I am afraid," -he added somewhat reflectively, "that in order to save myself I shall -have to kill you." - -"Good God!" exclaimed the sheriff in involuntary terror; "you would not -kill the man to whom you owe your own life." - -"You speak more truly than you know," replied the mulatto. "I indeed owe -my life to you." - -The sheriff started, he was capable of surprise, even in that moment of -extreme peril. "Who are you?" he asked in amazement. - -"Tom, Cicely's son," returned the other. He had closed the door and -stood talking to the sheriff through the grated opening. "Don't you -remember Cicely--Cicely whom you sold, with her child, to the speculator -on his way to Alabama?" - -The sheriff did remember. He had been sorry for it many a time since. It -had been the old story of debts, mortgages, and bad crops. He had -quarreled with the mother. The price offered for her and her child had -been unusually large, and he had yielded to the combination of anger and -pecuniary stress. - -"Good God!" he gasped, "you would not murder your own father?" - -"My father?" replied the mulatto. "It were well enough for me to claim -the relationship, but it comes with poor grace from you to ask anything -by reason of it. What father's duty have you ever performed for me? Did -you give me your name, or even your protection? Other white men gave -their colored sons freedom and money, and sent them to the free States. -_You_ sold _me_ to the rice swamps." - -"I at least gave you the life you cling to," murmured the sheriff. - -"Life?" said the prisoner, with a sarcastic laugh. "What kind of a life? -You gave me your own blood, your own features,--no man need look at us -together twice to see that,--and you gave me a black mother. Poor -wretch! She died under the lash, because she had enough womanhood to -call her soul her own. You gave me a white man's spirit, and you made me -a slave, and crushed it out." - -"But you are free now," said the sheriff. He had not doubted, could not -doubt, the mulatto's word. He knew whose passions coursed beneath that -swarthy skin and burned in the black eyes opposite his own. He saw in -this mulatto what he himself might have become had not the safeguards of -parental restraint and public opinion been thrown around him. - -"Free to do what?" replied the mulatto. "Free in name, but despised and -scorned and set aside by the people to whose race I belong far more than -to my mother's." - -"There are schools," said the sheriff. "You have been to school." He had -noticed that the mulatto spoke more eloquently and used better language -than most Branson County people. - -"I have been to school, and dreamed when I went that it would work some -marvelous change in my condition. But what did I learn? I learned to -feel that no degree of learning or wisdom will change the color of my -skin and that I shall always wear what in my own country is a badge of -degradation. When I think about it seriously I do not care particularly -for such a life. It is the animal in me, not the man, that flees the -gallows. I owe you nothing," he went on, "and expect nothing of you; and -it would be no more than justice if I should avenge upon you my mother's -wrongs and my own. But still I hate to shoot you; I have never yet taken -human life--for I did _not_ kill the old captain. Will you promise to -give no alarm and make no attempt to capture me until morning, if I do -not shoot?" - -So absorbed were the two men in their colloquy and their own tumultuous -thoughts that neither of them had heard the door below move upon its -hinges. Neither of them had heard a light step come stealthily up the -stairs, nor seen a slender form creep along the darkening passage toward -the mulatto. - -The sheriff hesitated. The struggle between his love of life and his -sense of duty was a terrific one. It may seem strange that a man who -could sell his own child into slavery should hesitate at such a moment, -when his life was trembling in the balance. But the baleful influence of -human slavery poisoned the very fountains of life, and created new -standards of right. The sheriff was conscientious; his conscience had -merely been warped by his environment. Let no one ask what his answer -would have been; he was spared the necessity of a decision. - -"Stop," said the mulatto, "you need not promise. I could not trust you -if you did. It is your life for mine; there is but one safe way for me; -you must die." - -He raised his arm to fire, when there was a flash--a report from the -passage behind him. His arm fell heavily at his side, and the pistol -dropped at his feet. - -The sheriff recovered first from his surprise, and throwing open the -door secured the fallen weapon. Then seizing the prisoner he thrust him -into the cell and locked the door upon him; after which he turned to -Polly, who leaned half-fainting against the wall, her hands clasped over -her heart. - -"Oh, father, I was just in time!" she cried hysterically, and, wildly -sobbing, threw herself into her father's arms. - -"I watched until they all went away," she said. "I heard the shot from -the woods and I saw you shoot. Then when you did not come out I feared -something had happened, that perhaps you had been wounded. I got out the -other pistol and ran over here. When I found the door open, I knew -something was wrong, and when I heard voices I crept upstairs, and -reached the top just in time to hear him say he would kill you. Oh, it -was a narrow escape!" - -When she had grown somewhat calmer, the sheriff left her standing there -and went back into the cell. The prisoner's arm was bleeding from a -flesh wound. His bravado had given place to a stony apathy. There was no -sign in his face of fear or disappointment or feeling of any kind. The -sheriff sent Polly to the house for cloth, and bound up the prisoner's -wound with a rude skill acquired during his army life. - -"I 'll have a doctor come and dress the wound in the morning," he said -to the prisoner. "It will do very well until then, if you will keep -quiet. If the doctor asks you how the wound was caused, you can say that -you were struck by the bullet fired from the woods. It would do you no -good to have it known that you were shot while attempting to escape." - -The prisoner uttered no word of thanks or apology, but sat in sullen -silence. When the wounded arm had been bandaged, Polly and her father -returned to the house. - -The sheriff was in an unusually thoughtful mood that evening. He put -salt in his coffee at supper, and poured vinegar over his pancakes. To -many of Polly's questions he returned random answers. When he had gone -to bed he lay awake for several hours. - -In the silent watches of the night, when he was alone with God, there -came into his mind a flood of unaccustomed thoughts. An hour or two -before, standing face to face with death, he had experienced a sensation -similar to that which drowning men are said to feel--a kind of -clarifying of the moral faculty, in which the veil of the flesh, with -its obscuring passions and prejudices, is pushed aside for a moment, and -all the acts of one's life stand out, in the clear light of truth, in -their correct proportions and relations,--a state of mind in which one -sees himself as God may be supposed to see him. In the reaction -following his rescue, this feeling had given place for a time to far -different emotions. But now, in the silence of midnight, something of -this clearness of spirit returned to the sheriff. He saw that he had -owed some duty to this son of his,--that neither law nor custom could -destroy a responsibility inherent in the nature of mankind. He could not -thus, in the eyes of God at least, shake off the consequences of his -sin. Had he never sinned, this wayward spirit would never have come back -from the vanished past to haunt him. As these thoughts came, his anger -against the mulatto died away, and in its place there sprang up a great -pity. The hand of parental authority might have restrained the passions -he had seen burning in the prisoner's eyes when the desperate man spoke -the words which had seemed to doom his father to death. The sheriff -felt that he might have saved this fiery spirit from the slough of -slavery; that he might have sent him to the free North, and given him -there, or in some other land, an opportunity to turn to usefulness and -honorable pursuits the talents that had run to crime, perhaps to -madness; he might, still less, have given this son of his the poor -simulacrum of liberty which men of his caste could possess in a -slave-holding community; or least of all, but still something, he might -have kept the boy on the plantation, where the burdens of slavery would -have fallen lightly upon him. - -The sheriff recalled his own youth. He had inherited an honored name to -keep untarnished; he had had a future to make; the picture of a fair -young bride had beckoned him on to happiness. The poor wretch now -stretched upon a pallet of straw between the brick walls of the jail had -had none of these things,--no name, no father, no mother--in the true -meaning of motherhood,--and until the past few years no possible future, -and then one vague and shadowy in its outline, and dependent for form -and substance upon the slow solution of a problem in which there were -many unknown quantities. - -From what he might have done to what he might yet do was an easy -transition for the awakened conscience of the sheriff. It occurred to -him, purely as a hypothesis, that he might permit his prisoner to -escape; but his oath of office, his duty as sheriff, stood in the way of -such a course, and the sheriff dismissed the idea from his mind. He -could, however, investigate the circumstances of the murder, and move -Heaven and earth to discover the real criminal, for he no longer doubted -the prisoner's innocence; he could employ counsel for the accused, and -perhaps influence public opinion in his favor. An acquittal once -secured, some plan could be devised by which the sheriff might in some -degree atone for his crime against this son of his--against -society--against God. - -When the sheriff had reached this conclusion he fell into an unquiet -slumber, from which he awoke late the next morning. - -He went over to the jail before breakfast and found the prisoner lying -on his pallet, his face turned to the wall; he did not move when the -sheriff rattled the door. - -"Good-morning," said the latter, in a tone intended to waken the -prisoner. - -There was no response. The sheriff looked more keenly at the recumbent -figure; there was an unnatural rigidity about its attitude. - -He hastily unlocked the door and, entering the cell, bent over the -prostrate form. There was no sound of breathing; he turned the body -over--it was cold and stiff. The prisoner had torn the bandage from his -wound and bled to death during the night. He had evidently been dead -several hours. - - - - -A Matter of Principle - - - -I - - -"What our country needs most in its treatment of the race problem," -observed Mr. Cicero Clayton at one of the monthly meetings of the Blue -Vein Society, of which he was a prominent member, "is a clearer -conception of the brotherhood of man." - -The same sentiment in much the same words had often fallen from Mr. -Clayton's lips,--so often, in fact, that the younger members of the -society sometimes spoke of him--among themselves of course--as -"Brotherhood Clayton." The sobriquet derived its point from the -application he made of the principle involved in this oft-repeated -proposition. - -The fundamental article of Mr. Clayton's social creed was that he -himself was not a negro. - -"I know," he would say, "that the white people lump us all together as -negroes, and condemn us all to the same social ostracism. But I don't -accept this classification, for my part, and I imagine that, as the -chief party in interest, I have a right to my opinion. People who belong -by half or more of their blood to the most virile and progressive race -of modern times have as much right to call themselves white as others -have to call them negroes." - -Mr. Clayton spoke warmly, for he was well informed, and had thought much -upon the subject; too much, indeed, for he had not been able to escape -entirely the tendency of too much concentration upon one subject to make -even the clearest minds morbid. - -"Of course we can't enforce our claims, or protect ourselves from being -robbed of our birthright; but we can at least have principles, and try -to live up to them the best we can. If we are not accepted as white, we -can at any rate make it clear that we object to being called black. Our -protest cannot fail in time to impress itself upon the better class of -white people; for the Anglo-Saxon race loves justice, and will -eventually do it, where it does not conflict with their own interests." - -Whether or not the fact that Mr. Clayton meant no sarcasm, and was -conscious of no inconsistency in this eulogy, tended to establish the -racial identity he claimed may safely be left to the discerning reader. - -In living up to his creed Mr. Clayton declined to associate to any -considerable extent with black people. This was sometimes a little -inconvenient, and occasionally involved a sacrifice of some pleasure for -himself and his family, because they would not attend entertainments -where many black people were likely to be present. But they had a social -refuge in a little society of people like themselves; they attended, -too, a church, of which nearly all the members were white, and they were -connected with a number of the religious and benevolent associations -open to all good citizens, where they came into contact with the better -class of white people, and were treated, in their capacity of members, -with a courtesy and consideration scarcely different from that accorded -to other citizens. - -Mr. Clayton's racial theory was not only logical enough, but was in his -own case backed up by substantial arguments. He had begun life with a -small patrimony, and had invested his money in a restaurant, which by -careful and judicious attention had grown from a cheap eating-house into -the most popular and successful confectionery and catering establishment -in Groveland. His business occupied a double store on Oakwood Avenue. He -owned houses and lots, and stocks and bonds, had good credit at the -banks, and lived in a style befitting his income and business standing. -In person he was of olive complexion, with slightly curly hair. His -features approached the Cuban or Latin-American type rather than the -familiar broad characteristics of the mulatto, this suggestion of -something foreign being heightened by a Vandyke beard and a carefully -waxed and pointed mustache. When he walked to church on Sunday mornings -with his daughter Alice, they were a couple of such striking appearance -as surely to attract attention. - -Miss Alice Clayton was queen of her social set. She was young, she was -handsome. She was nearly white; she frankly confessed her sorrow that -she was not entirely so. She was accomplished and amiable, dressed in -good taste, and had for her father by all odds the richest colored -man--the term is used with apologies to Mr. Clayton, explaining that it -does not necessarily mean a negro--in Groveland. So pronounced was her -superiority that really she had but one social rival worthy of the -name,--Miss Lura Watkins, whose father kept a prosperous livery stable -and lived in almost as good style as the Claytons. Miss Watkins, while -good-looking enough, was not so young nor quite so white as Miss -Clayton. She was popular, however, among their mutual acquaintances, and -there was a good-natured race between the two as to which should make -the first and best marriage. - -Marriages among Miss Clayton's set were serious affairs. Of course -marriage is always a serious matter, whether it be a success or a -failure, and there are those who believe that any marriage is better -than no marriage. But among Miss Clayton's friends and associates -matrimony took on an added seriousness because of the very narrow limits -within which it could take place. Miss Clayton and her friends, by -reason of their assumed superiority to black people, or perhaps as much -by reason of a somewhat morbid shrinking from the curiosity manifested -toward married people of strongly contrasting colors, would not marry -black men, and except in rare instances white men would not marry them. -They were therefore restricted for a choice to the young men of their -own complexion. But these, unfortunately for the girls, had a wider -choice. In any State where the laws permit freedom of the marriage -contract, a man, by virtue of his sex, can find a wife of whatever -complexion he prefers; of course he must not always ask too much in -other respects, for most women like to better their social position when -they marry. To the number thus lost by "going on the other side," as the -phrase went, add the worthless contingent whom no self-respecting woman -would marry, and the choice was still further restricted; so that it had -become fashionable, when the supply of eligible men ran short, for those -of Miss Clayton's set who could afford it to go traveling, ostensibly -for pleasure, but with the serious hope that they might meet their fate -away from home. - -Miss Clayton had perhaps a larger option than any of her associates. -Among such men as there were she could have taken her choice. Her -beauty, her position, her accomplishments, her father's wealth, all made -her eminently desirable. But, on the other hand, the same things -rendered her more difficult to reach, and harder to please. To get -access to her heart, too, it was necessary to run the gauntlet of her -parents, which, until she had reached the age of twenty-three, no one -had succeeded in doing safely. Many had called, but none had been -chosen. - -There was, however, one spot left unguarded, and through it Cupid, a -veteran sharpshooter, sent a dart. Mr. Clayton had taken into his -service and into his household a poor relation, a sort of cousin several -times removed. This boy--his name was Jack--had gone into Mr. Clayton's -service at a very youthful age,--twelve or thirteen. He had helped about -the housework, washed the dishes, swept the floors, taken care of the -lawn and the stable for three or four years, while he attended school. -His cousin had then taken him into the store, where he had swept the -floor, washed the windows, and done a class of work that kept fully -impressed upon him the fact that he was a poor dependent. Nevertheless -he was a cheerful lad, who took what he could get and was properly -grateful, but always meant to get more. By sheer force of industry and -affability and shrewdness, he forced his employer to promote him in time -to a position of recognized authority in the establishment. Any one -outside of the family would have perceived in him a very suitable -husband for Miss Clayton; he was of about the same age, or a year or two -older, was as fair of complexion as she, when she was not powdered, and -was passably good-looking, with a bearing of which the natural manliness -had been no more warped than his training and racial status had rendered -inevitable; for he had early learned the law of growth, that to bend is -better than to break. He was sometimes sent to accompany Miss Clayton to -places in the evening, when she had no other escort, and it is quite -likely that she discovered his good points before her parents did. That -they should in time perceive them was inevitable. But even then, so -accustomed were they to looking down upon the object of their former -bounty, that they only spoke of the matter jocularly. - -"Well, Alice," her father would say in his bluff way, "you 'll not be -absolutely obliged to die an old maid. If we can't find anything better -for you, there 's always Jack. As long as he does n't take to some other -girl, you can fall back on him as a last chance. He 'd be glad to take -you to get into the business." - -Miss Alice had considered the joke a very poor one when first made, but -by occasional repetition she became somewhat familiar with it. In time -it got around to Jack himself, to whom it seemed no joke at all. He had -long considered it a consummation devoutly to be wished, and when he -became aware that the possibility of such a match had occurred to the -other parties in interest, he made up his mind that the idea should in -due course of time become an accomplished fact. He had even suggested as -much to Alice, in a casual way, to feel his ground; and while she had -treated the matter lightly, he was not without hope that she had been -impressed by the suggestion. Before he had had time, however, to follow -up this lead, Miss Clayton, in the spring of 187-, went away on a visit -to Washington. - -The occasion of her visit was a presidential inauguration. The new -President owed his nomination mainly to the votes of the Southern -delegates in the convention, and was believed to be correspondingly well -disposed to the race from which the Southern delegates were for the most -part recruited. Friends of rival and unsuccessful candidates for the -nomination had more than hinted that the Southern delegates were very -substantially rewarded for their support at the time when it was given; -whether this was true or not the parties concerned know best. At any -rate the colored politicians did not see it in that light, for they were -gathered from near and far to press their claims for recognition and -patronage. On the evening following the White House inaugural ball, the -colored people of Washington gave an "inaugural" ball at a large public -hall. It was under the management of their leading citizens, among them -several high officials holding over from the last administration, and a -number of professional and business men. This ball was the most -noteworthy social event that colored circles up to that time had ever -known. There were many visitors from various parts of the country. Miss -Clayton attended the ball, the honors of which she carried away easily. -She danced with several partners, and was introduced to innumerable -people whom she had never seen before, and whom she hardly expected ever -to meet again. She went away from the ball, at four o'clock in the -morning, in a glow of triumph, and with a confused impression of -senators and representatives and lawyers and doctors of all shades, who -had sought an introduction, led her through the dance, and overwhelmed -her with compliments. She returned home the next day but one, after the -most delightful week of her life. - - - -II - - -One afternoon, about three weeks after her return from Washington, Alice -received a letter through the mail. The envelope bore the words "House -of Representatives" printed in one corner, and in the opposite corner, -in a bold running hand, a Congressman's frank, "Hamilton M. Brown, M.C." -The letter read as follows:---- - - -House of Representatives, -Washington, D.C., March 30, 187-. - -Miss Alice Clayton, Groveland. - -Dear Friend (if I may be permitted to call you so after so brief an -acquaintance),--I remember with sincerest pleasure our recent meeting at -the inaugural ball, and the sensation created by your beauty, your -amiable manners, and your graceful dancing. Time has so strengthened the -impression I then received, that I should have felt inconsolable had I -thought it impossible ever to again behold the charms which had -brightened the occasion of our meeting and eclipsed by their brilliancy -the leading belles of the capital. I had hoped, however, to have the -pleasure of meeting you again, and circumstances have fortunately placed -it in my power to do so at an early date. You have doubtless learned -that the contest over the election in the Sixth Congressional District -of South Carolina has been decided in my favor, and that I now have the -honor of representing my native State at the national capital. I have -just been appointed a member of a special committee to visit and inspect -the Sault River and the Straits of Mackinac, with reference to the needs -of lake navigation. I have made arrangements to start a week ahead of -the other members of the committee, whom I am to meet in Detroit on the -20th. I shall leave here on the 2d, and will arrive in Groveland on the -3d, by the 7.30 evening express. I shall remain in Groveland several -days, in the course of which I shall be pleased to call, and renew the -acquaintance so auspiciously begun in Washington, which it is my fondest -hope may ripen into a warmer friendship. - -If you do not regard my visit as presumptuous, and do not write me in -the mean while forbidding it, I shall do myself the pleasure of waiting -on you the morning after my arrival in Groveland. - -With renewed expressions of my sincere admiration and profound esteem, I -remain, - -Sincerely yours, -Hamilton M. Brown, M.C. - -To Alice, and especially to her mother, this bold and flowery letter had -very nearly the force of a formal declaration. They read it over again -and again, and spent most of the afternoon discussing it. There were few -young men in Groveland eligible as husbands for so superior a person as -Alice Clayton, and an addition to the number would be very acceptable. -But the mere fact of his being a Congressman was not sufficient to -qualify him; there were other considerations. - -"I 've never heard of this Honorable Hamilton M. Brown," said Mr. -Clayton. The letter had been laid before him at the supper-table. "It 's -strange, Alice, that you have n't said anything about him before. You -must have met lots of swell folks not to recollect a Congressman." - -"But he was n't a Congressman then," answered Alice; "he was only a -claimant. I remember Senator Bruce, and Mr. Douglass; but there were so -many doctors and lawyers and politicians that I could n't keep track of -them all. Still I have a faint impression of a Mr. Brown who danced with -me." - -She went into the parlor and brought out the dancing programme she had -used at the Washington ball. She had decorated it with a bow of blue -ribbon and preserved it as a souvenir of her visit. - -"Yes," she said, after examining it, "I must have danced with him. Here -are the initials--'H.M.B.'" - -"What color is he?" asked Mr. Clayton, as he plied his knife and fork. - -"I have a notion that he was rather dark--darker than any one I had ever -danced with before." - -"Why did you dance with him?" asked her father. "You were n't obliged to -go back on your principles because you were away from home." - -"Well, father, 'when you 're in Rome'--you know the rest. Mrs. -Clearweather introduced me to several dark men, to him among others. -They were her friends, and common decency required me to be courteous." - -"If this man is black, we don't want to encourage him. If he 's the -right sort, we 'll invite him to the house." - -"And make him feel at home," added Mrs. Clayton, on hospitable thoughts -intent. - -"We must ask Sadler about him to-morrow," said Mr. Clayton, when he had -drunk his coffee and lighted his cigar. "If he 's the right man he shall -have cause to remember his visit to Groveland. We 'll show him that -Washington is not the only town on earth." - -The uncertainty of the family with regard to Mr. Brown was soon removed. -Mr. Solomon Sadler, who was supposed to know everything worth knowing -concerning the colored race, and everybody of importance connected with -it, dropped in after supper to make an evening call. Sadler was familiar -with the history of every man of negro ancestry who had distinguished -himself in any walk of life. He could give the pedigree of Alexander -Pushkin, the titles of scores of Dumas's novels (even Sadler had not -time to learn them all), and could recite the whole of Wendell -Phillips's lecture on Toussaint l'Ouverture. He claimed a personal -acquaintance with Mr. Frederick Douglass, and had been often in -Washington, where he was well known and well received in good colored -society. - -"Let me see," he said reflectively, when asked for information about -the Honorable Hamilton M. Brown. "Yes, I think I know him. He studied at -Oberlin just after the war. He was about leaving there when I entered. -There were two H.M. Browns there--a Hamilton M. Brown and a Henry M. -Brown. One was stout and dark and the other was slim and quite light; -you could scarcely tell him from a dark white man. They used to call -them 'light Brown' and 'dark Brown.' I did n't know either of them -except by sight, for they were there only a few weeks after I went in. -As I remember them, Hamilton was the fair one--a very good-looking, -gentlemanly fellow, and, as I heard, a good student and a fine speaker." - -"Do you remember what kind of hair he had?" asked Mr. Clayton. - -"Very good indeed; straight, as I remember it. He looked something like -a Spaniard or a Portuguese." - -"Now that you describe him," said Alice, "I remember quite well dancing -with such a gentleman; and I 'm wrong about my 'H.M.B.' The dark man -must have been some one else; there are two others on my card that I -can't remember distinctly, and he was probably one of those." - -"I guess he 's all right, Alice," said her father when Sadler had gone -away. "He evidently means business, and we must treat him white. Of -course he must stay with us; there are no hotels in Groveland while he -is here. Let 's see--he 'll be here in three days. That is n't very -long, but I guess we can get ready. I 'll write a letter this -afternoon--or you write it, and invite him to the house, and say I 'll -meet him at the depot. And you may have _carte blanche_ for making the -preparations." - -"We must have some people to meet him." - -"Certainly; a reception is the proper thing. Sit down immediately and -write the letter and I 'll mail it first thing in the morning, so he 'll -get it before he has time to make other arrangements. And you and your -mother put your heads together and make out a list of guests, and I 'll -have the invitations printed to-morrow. We will show the darkeys of -Groveland how to entertain a Congressman." - -It will be noted that in moments of abstraction or excitement Mr. -Clayton sometimes relapsed into forms of speech not entirely consistent -with his principles. But some allowance must be made for his -atmosphere; he could no more escape from it than the leopard can change -his spots, or the--In deference to Mr. Clayton's feelings the quotation -will be left incomplete. - -Alice wrote the letter on the spot and it was duly mailed, and sped on -its winged way to Washington. - -The preparations for the reception were made as thoroughly and -elaborately as possible on so short a notice. The invitations were -issued; the house was cleaned from attic to cellar; an orchestra was -engaged for the evening; elaborate floral decorations were planned and -the flowers ordered. Even the refreshments, which ordinarily, in the -household of a caterer, would be mere matter of familiar detail, became -a subject of serious consultation and study. - -The approaching event was a matter of very much interest to the -fortunate ones who were honored with invitations, and this for several -reasons. They were anxious to meet this sole representative of their -race in the --th Congress, and as he was not one of the old-line colored -leaders, but a new star risen on the political horizon, there was a -special curiosity to see who he was and what he looked like. Moreover, -the Claytons did not often entertain a large company, but when they did, -it was on a scale commensurate with their means and position, and to be -present on such an occasion was a thing to remember and to talk about. -And, most important consideration of all, some remarks dropped by -members of the Clayton family had given rise to the rumor that the -Congressman was seeking a wife. This invested his visit with a romantic -interest, and gave the reception a practical value; for there were other -marriageable girls besides Miss Clayton, and if one was left another -might be taken. - - - -III - - -On the evening of April 3d, at fifteen minutes of six o'clock, Mr. -Clayton, accompanied by Jack, entered the livery carriage waiting at his -gate and ordered the coachman to drive to the Union Depot. He had taken -Jack along, partly for company, and partly that Jack might relieve the -Congressman of any trouble about his baggage, and make himself useful in -case of emergency. Jack was willing enough to go, for he had foreseen -in the visitor a rival for Alice's hand,--indeed he had heard more or -less of the subject for several days,--and was glad to make a -reconnaissance before the enemy arrived upon the field of battle. He had -made--at least he had thought so--considerable progress with Alice -during the three weeks since her return from Washington, and once or -twice Alice had been perilously near the tender stage. This visit had -disturbed the situation and threatened to ruin his chances; but he did -not mean to give up without a struggle. - -Arrived at the main entrance, Mr. Clayton directed the carriage to wait, -and entered the station with Jack. The Union Depot at Groveland was an -immense oblong structure, covering a dozen parallel tracks and -furnishing terminal passenger facilities for half a dozen railroads. The -tracks ran east and west, and the depot was entered from the south, at -about the middle of the building. On either side of the entrance, the -waiting-rooms, refreshment rooms, baggage and express departments, and -other administrative offices, extended in a row for the entire length of -the building; and beyond them and parallel with them stretched a long -open space, separated from the tracks by an iron fence or _grille_. -There were two entrance gates in the fence, at which tickets must be -shown before access could be had to trains, and two other gates, by -which arriving passengers came out. - -Mr. Clayton looked at the blackboard on the wall underneath the station -clock, and observed that the 7.30 train from Washington was five minutes -late. Accompanied by Jack he walked up and down the platform until the -train, with the usual accompaniment of panting steam and clanging bell -and rumbling trucks, pulled into the station, and drew up on the third -or fourth track from the iron railing. Mr. Clayton stationed himself at -the gate nearest the rear end of the train, reasoning that the -Congressman would ride in a parlor car, and would naturally come out by -the gate nearest the point at which he left the train. - -"You 'd better go and stand by the other gate, Jack," he said to his -companion, "and stop him if he goes out that way." - -The train was well filled and a stream of passengers poured through. -Mr. Clayton scanned the crowd carefully as they approached the gate, and -scrutinized each passenger as he came through, without seeing any one -that met the description of Congressman Brown, as given by Sadler, or -any one that could in his opinion be the gentleman for whom he was -looking. When the last one had passed through he was left to the -conclusion that his expected guest had gone out by the other gate. Mr. -Clayton hastened thither. - -"Did n't he come out this way, Jack?" he asked. - -"No, sir," replied the young man, "I have n't seen him." - -"That 's strange," mused Mr. Clayton, somewhat anxiously. "He would -hardly fail to come without giving us notice. Surely we must have missed -him. We 'd better look around a little. You go that way and I 'll go -this." - -Mr. Clayton turned and walked several rods along the platform to the -men's waiting-room, and standing near the door glanced around to see if -he could find the object of his search. The only colored person in the -room was a stout and very black man, wearing a broadcloth suit and a -silk hat, and seated a short distance from the door. On the seat by his -side stood a couple of valises. On one of them, the one nearest him, on -which his arm rested, was written, in white letters, plainly -legible,---- - -"H.M. Brown, M.C. - Washington, D.C." - -Mr. Clayton's feelings at this discovery can better be imagined than -described. He hastily left the waiting-room, before the black gentleman, -who was looking the other way, was even aware of his presence, and, -walking rapidly up and down the platform, communed with himself upon -what course of action the situation demanded. He had invited to his -house, had come down to meet, had made elaborate preparations to -entertain on the following evening, a light-colored man,--a white man by -his theory, an acceptable guest, a possible husband for his daughter, an -avowed suitor for her hand. If the Congressman had turned out to be -brown, even dark brown, with fairly good hair, though he might not have -desired him as a son-in-law, yet he could have welcomed him as a guest. -But even this softening of the blow was denied him, for the man in the -waiting-room was palpably, aggressively black, with pronounced African -features and woolly hair, without apparently a single drop of redeeming -white blood. Could he, in the face of his well-known principles, his -lifelong rule of conduct, take this negro into his home and introduce -him to his friends? Could he subject his wife and daughter to the rude -shock of such a disappointment? It would be bad enough for them to learn -of the ghastly mistake, but to have him in the house would be twisting -the arrow in the wound. - -Mr. Clayton had the instincts of a gentleman, and realized the delicacy -of the situation. But to get out of his difficulty without wounding the -feelings of the Congressman required not only diplomacy but dispatch. -Whatever he did must be done promptly; for if he waited many minutes the -Congressman would probably take a carriage and be driven to Mr. -Clayton's residence. - -A ray of hope came for a moment to illumine the gloom of the situation. -Perhaps the black man was merely sitting there, and not the owner of the -valise! For there were two valises, one on each side of the supposed -Congressman. For obvious reasons he did not care to make the inquiry -himself, so he looked around for his companion, who came up a moment -later. - -"Jack," he exclaimed excitedly, "I 'm afraid we 're in the worst kind of -a hole, unless there 's some mistake! Run down to the men's waiting-room -and you 'll see a man and a valise, and you 'll understand what I mean. -Ask that darkey if he is the Honorable Mr. Brown, Congressman from South -Carolina. If he says yes, come back right away and let me know, without -giving him time to ask any questions, and put your wits to work to help -me out of the scrape." - -"I wonder what 's the matter?" said Jack to himself, but did as he was -told. In a moment he came running back. - -"Yes, sir," he announced; "he says he 's the man." - -"Jack," said Mr. Clayton desperately, "if you want to show your -appreciation of what I 've done for you, you must suggest some way out -of this. I 'd never dare to take that negro to my house, and yet I 'm -obliged to treat him like a gentleman." - -Jack's eyes had worn a somewhat reflective look since he had gone to -make the inquiry. Suddenly his face brightened with intelligence, and -then, as a newsboy ran into the station calling his wares, hardened into -determination. - -"Clarion, special extry 'dition! All about de epidemic er dipt'eria!" -clamored the newsboy with shrill childish treble, as he made his way -toward the waiting-room. Jack darted after him, and saw the man to whom -he had spoken buy a paper. He ran back to his employer, and dragged him -over toward the ticket-seller's window. - -"I have it, sir!" he exclaimed, seizing a telegraph blank and writing -rapidly, and reading aloud as he wrote. "How's this for a way out?"---- - - -"Dear Sir,--I write you this note here in the depot to inform you of an -unfortunate event which has interfered with my plans and those of my -family for your entertainment while in Groveland. Yesterday my daughter -Alice complained of a sore throat, which by this afternoon had developed -into a case of malignant diphtheria. In consequence our house has been -quarantined; and while I have felt myself obliged to come down to the -depot, I do not feel that I ought to expose you to the possibility of -infection, and I therefore send you this by another hand. The bearer -will conduct you to a carriage which I have ordered placed at your -service, and unless you should prefer some other hotel, you will be -driven to the Forest Hill House, where I beg you will consider yourself -my guest during your stay in the city, and make the fullest use of every -convenience it may offer. From present indications I fear no one of our -family will be able to see you, which we shall regret beyond expression, -as we have made elaborate arrangements for your entertainment. I still -hope, however, that you may enjoy your visit, as there are many places -of interest in the city, and many friends will doubtless be glad to make -your acquaintance. - -"With assurances of my profound regret, I am - Sincerely yours, - Cicero Clayton." - -"Splendid!" cried Mr. Clayton. "You 've helped me out of a horrible -scrape. Now, go and take him to the hotel and see him comfortably -located, and tell them to charge the bill to me." - -"I suspect, sir," suggested Jack, "that I 'd better not go up to the -house, and you 'll have to stay in yourself for a day or two, to keep up -appearances. I 'll sleep on the lounge at the store, and we can talk -business over the telephone." - -"All right, Jack, we 'll arrange the details later. But for Heaven's -sake get him started, or he 'll be calling a hack to drive up to the -house. I 'll go home on a street car." - -"So far so good," sighed Mr. Clayton to himself as he escaped from the -station. "Jack is a deuced clever fellow, and I 'll have to do something -more for him. But the tug-of-war is yet to come. I 've got to bribe a -doctor, shut up the house for a day or two, and have all the ill-humor -of two disappointed women to endure until this negro leaves town. Well, -I 'm sure my wife and Alice will back me up at any cost. No sacrifice is -too great to escape having to entertain him; of course I have no -prejudice against his color,--he can't help that,--but it is the -_principle_ of the thing. If we received him it would be a concession -fatal to all my views and theories. And I am really doing him a -kindness, for I 'm sure that all the world could not make Alice and her -mother treat him with anything but cold politeness. It 'll be a great -mortification to Alice, but I don't see how else I could have got out of -it." - -He boarded the first car that left the depot, and soon reached home. The -house was lighted up, and through the lace curtains of the parlor -windows he could see his wife and daughter, elegantly dressed, waiting -to receive their distinguished visitor. He rang the bell impatiently, -and a servant opened the door. - -"The gentleman did n't come?" asked the maid. - -"No," he said as he hung up his hat. This brought the ladies to the -door. - -"He did n't come?" they exclaimed. "What 's the matter?" - -"I 'll tell you," he said. "Mary," this to the servant, a white girl, -who stood in open-eyed curiosity, "we shan't need you any more -to-night." - -Then he went into the parlor, and, closing the door, told his story. -When he reached the point where he had discovered the color of the -honorable Mr. Brown, Miss Clayton caught her breath, and was on the -verge of collapse. - -"That nigger," said Mrs. Clayton indignantly, "can never set foot in -this house. But what did you do with him?" - -Mr. Clayton quickly unfolded his plan, and described the disposition he -had made of the Congressman. - -"It 's an awful shame," said Mrs. Clayton. "Just think of the trouble -and expense we have gone to! And poor Alice 'll never get over it, for -everybody knows he came to see her and that he 's smitten with her. But -you 've done just right; we never would have been able to hold up our -heads again if we had introduced a black man, even a Congressman, to the -people that are invited here to-morrow night, as a sweetheart of Alice. -Why, she would n't marry him if he was President of the United States -and plated with gold an inch thick. The very idea!" - -"Well," said Mr. Clayton, "then we 'we got to act quick. Alice must wrap -up her throat--by the way, Alice, how _is_ your throat?" - -"It 's sore," sobbed Alice, who had been in tears almost from her -father's return, "and I don't care if I do have diphtheria and die, no, -I don't!" and she wept on. - -"Wrap up your throat and go to bed, and I 'll go over to Doctor -Pillsbury's and get a diphtheria card to nail up on the house. In the -morning, first thing, we 'll have to write notes recalling the -invitations for to-morrow evening, and have them delivered by messenger -boys. We were fools for not finding out all about this man from some one -who knew, before we invited him here. Sadler don't know more than half -he thinks he does, anyway. And we 'll have to do this thing thoroughly, -or our motives will be misconstrued, and people will say we are -prejudiced and all that, when it is only a matter of principle with us." - -The programme outlined above was carried out to the letter. The -invitations were recalled, to the great disappointment of the invited -guests. The family physician called several times during the day. Alice -remained in bed, and the maid left without notice, in such a hurry that -she forgot to take her best clothes. - -Mr. Clayton himself remained at home. He had a telephone in the house, -and was therefore in easy communication with his office, so that the -business did not suffer materially by reason of his absence from the -store. About ten o'clock in the morning a note came up from the hotel, -expressing Mr. Brown's regrets and sympathy. Toward noon Mr. Clayton -picked up the morning paper, which he had not theretofore had time to -read, and was glancing over it casually, when his eye fell upon a column -headed "A Colored Congressman." He read the article with astonishment -that rapidly turned to chagrin and dismay. It was an interview -describing the Congressman as a tall and shapely man, about thirty-five -years old, with an olive complexion not noticeably darker than many a -white man's, straight hair, and eyes as black as sloes. - -"The bearing of this son of South Carolina reveals the polished manners -of the Southern gentleman, and neither from his appearance nor his -conversation would one suspect that the white blood which flows in his -veins in such preponderating measure had ever been crossed by that of a -darker race," wrote the reporter, who had received instructions at the -office that for urgent business considerations the lake shipping -interest wanted Representative Brown treated with marked consideration. - -There was more of the article, but the introductory portion left Mr. -Clayton in such a state of bewilderment that the paper fell from his -hand. What was the meaning of it? Had he been mistaken? Obviously so, or -else the reporter was wrong, which was manifestly improbable. When he -had recovered himself somewhat, he picked up the newspaper and began -reading where he had left off. - -"Representative Brown traveled to Groveland in company with Bishop Jones -of the African Methodist Jerusalem Church, who is _en route_ to attend -the general conference of his denomination at Detroit next week. The -bishop, who came in while the writer was interviewing Mr. Brown, is a -splendid type of the pure negro. He is said to be a man of great power -among his people, which may easily be believed after one has looked upon -his expressive countenance and heard him discuss the questions which -affect the welfare of his church and his race." - -Mr. Clayton stared at the paper. "'The bishop,'" he repeated, "'is a -splendid type of the pure negro.' I must have mistaken the bishop for -the Congressman! But how in the world did Jack get the thing balled up? -I 'll call up the store and demand an explanation of him. - -"Jack," he asked, "what kind of a looking man was the fellow you gave -the note to at the depot?" - -"He was a very wicked-looking fellow, sir," came back the answer. "He -had a bad eye, looked like a gambler, sir. I am not surprised that you -did n't want to entertain him, even if he was a Congressman." - -"What color was he--that 's what I want to know--and what kind of hair -did he have?" - -"Why, he was about my complexion, sir, and had straight black hair." - -The rules of the telephone company did not permit swearing over the -line. Mr. Clayton broke the rules. - -"Was there any one else with him?" he asked when he had relieved his -mind. - -"Yes, sir, Bishop Jones of the African Methodist Jerusalem Church was -sitting there with him; they had traveled from Washington together. I -drove the bishop to his stopping-place after I had left Mr. Brown at the -hotel. I did n't suppose you 'd mind." - -Mr. Clayton fell into a chair, and indulged in thoughts unutterable. - -He folded up the paper and slipped it under the family Bible, where it -was least likely to be soon discovered. - -"I 'll hide the paper, anyway," he groaned. "I 'll never hear the last -of this till my dying day, so I may as well have a few hours' respite. -It 's too late to go back, and we 've got to play the farce out. Alice -is really sick with disappointment, and to let her know this now would -only make her worse. Maybe he 'll leave town in a day or two, and then -she 'll be in condition to stand it. Such luck is enough to disgust a -man with trying to do right and live up to his principles." - -Time hung a little heavy on Mr. Clayton's hands during the day. His wife -was busy with the housework. He answered several telephone calls about -Alice's health, and called up the store occasionally to ask how the -business was getting on. After lunch he lay down on a sofa and took a -nap, from which he was aroused by the sound of the door-bell. He went to -the door. The evening paper was lying on the porch, and the newsboy, who -had not observed the diphtheria sign until after he had rung, was -hurrying away as fast as his legs would carry him. - -Mr. Clayton opened the paper and looked it through to see if there was -any reference to the visiting Congressman. He found what he sought and -more. An article on the local page contained a resume of the information -given in the morning paper, with the following additional paragraph:---- - -"A reporter, who called at the Forest Hill this morning to interview -Representative Brown, was informed that the Congressman had been invited -to spend the remainder of his time in Groveland as the guest of Mr. -William Watkins, the proprietor of the popular livery establishment on -Main Street. Mr. Brown will remain in the city several days, and a -reception will be tendered him at Mr. Watkins's on Wednesday evening." - -"That ends it," sighed Mr. Clayton. "The dove of peace will never again -rest on my roof-tree." - -But why dwell longer on the sufferings of Mr. Clayton, or attempt to -describe the feelings or chronicle the remarks of his wife and daughter -when they learned the facts in the case? - -As to Representative Brown, he was made welcome in the hospitable home -of Mr. William Watkins. There was a large and brilliant assemblage at -the party on Wednesday evening, at which were displayed the costumes -prepared for the Clayton reception. Mr. Brown took a fancy to Miss Lura -Watkins, to whom, before the week was over, he became engaged to be -married. Meantime poor Alice, the innocent victim of circumstances and -principles, lay sick abed with a supposititious case of malignant -diphtheria, and a real case of acute disappointment and chagrin. - -"Oh, Jack!" exclaimed Alice, a few weeks later, on the way home from -evening church in company with the young man, "what a dreadful thing it -all was! And to think of that hateful Lura Watkins marrying the -Congressman!" - -The street was shaded by trees at the point where they were passing, and -there was no one in sight. Jack put his arm around her waist, and, -leaning over, kissed her. - -"Never mind, dear," he said soothingly, "you still have your 'last -chance' left, and I 'll prove myself a better man than the Congressman." - - * * * * * - -Occasionally, at social meetings, when the vexed question of the future -of the colored race comes up, as it often does, for discussion, Mr. -Clayton may still be heard to remark sententiously:---- - -"What the white people of the United States need most, in dealing with -this problem, is a higher conception of the brotherhood of man. For of -one blood God made all the nations of the earth." - - - - -Cicely's Dream - - - -I - - -The old woman stood at the back door of the cabin, shading her eyes with -her hand, and looking across the vegetable garden that ran up to the -very door. Beyond the garden she saw, bathed in the sunlight, a field of -corn, just in the ear, stretching for half a mile, its yellow, -pollen-laden tassels overtopping the dark green mass of broad glistening -blades; and in the distance, through the faint morning haze of -evaporating dew, the line of the woods, of a still darker green, meeting -the clear blue of the summer sky. Old Dinah saw, going down the path, a -tall, brown girl, in a homespun frock, swinging a slat-bonnet in one -hand and a splint basket in the other. - -"Oh, Cicely!" she called. - -The girl turned and answered in a resonant voice, vibrating with youth -and life,---- - -"Yes, granny!" - -"Be sho' and pick a good mess er peas, chile, fer yo' gran'daddy's gwine -ter be home ter dinner ter-day." - -The old woman stood a moment longer and then turned to go into the -house. What she had not seen was that the girl was not only young, but -lithe and shapely as a sculptor's model; that her bare feet seemed to -spurn the earth as they struck it; that though brown, she was not so -brown but that her cheek was darkly red with the blood of another race -than that which gave her her name and station in life; and the old woman -did not see that Cicely's face was as comely as her figure was superb, -and that her eyes were dreamy with vague yearnings. - -Cicely climbed the low fence between the garden and the cornfield, and -started down one of the long rows leading directly away from the house. -Old Needham was a good ploughman, and straight as an arrow ran the -furrow between the rows of corn, until it vanished in the distant -perspective. The peas were planted beside alternate hills of corn, the -cornstalks serving as supports for the climbing pea-vines. The vines -nearest the house had been picked more or less clear of the long green -pods, and Cicely walked down the row for a quarter of a mile, to where -the peas were more plentiful. And as she walked she thought of her dream -of the night before. - -She had dreamed a beautiful dream. The fact that it was a beautiful -dream, a delightful dream, her memory retained very vividly. She was -troubled because she could not remember just what her dream had been -about. Of one other fact she was certain, that in her dream she had -found something, and that her happiness had been bound up with the thing -she had found. As she walked down the corn-row she ran over in her mind -the various things with which she had always associated happiness. Had -she found a gold ring? No, it was not a gold ring--of that she felt -sure. Was it a soft, curly plume for her hat? She had seen town people -with them, and had indulged in day-dreams on the subject; but it was not -a feather. Was it a bright-colored silk dress? No; as much as she had -always wanted one, it was not a silk dress. For an instant, in a dream, -she had tasted some great and novel happiness, and when she awoke it was -dashed from her lips, and she could not even enjoy the memory of it, -except in a vague, indefinite, and tantalizing way. - -Cicely was troubled, too, because dreams were serious things. Dreams had -certain meanings, most of them, and some dreams went by contraries. If -her dream had been a prophecy of some good thing, she had by forgetting -it lost the pleasure of anticipation. If her dream had been one of those -that go by contraries, the warning would be in vain, because she would -not know against what evil to provide. So, with a sigh, Cicely said to -herself that it was a troubled world, more or less; and having come to a -promising point, began to pick the tenderest pea-pods and throw them -into her basket. - -By the time she had reached the end of the line the basket was nearly -full. Glancing toward the pine woods beyond the rail fence, she saw a -brier bush loaded with large, luscious blackberries. Cicely was fond of -blackberries, so she set her basket down, climbed the fence, and was -soon busily engaged in gathering the fruit, delicious even in its wild -state. - -She had soon eaten all she cared for. But the berries were still -numerous, and it occurred to her that her granddaddy would like a -blackberry pudding for dinner. Catching up her apron, and using it as a -receptacle for the berries, she had gathered scarcely more than a -handful when she heard a groan. - -Cicely was not timid, and her curiosity being aroused by the sound, she -stood erect, and remained in a listening attitude. In a moment the sound -was repeated, and, gauging the point from which it came, she plunged -resolutely into the thick underbrush of the forest. She had gone but a -few yards when she stopped short with an exclamation of surprise and -concern. - -Upon the ground, under the shadow of the towering pines, a man lay at -full length,--a young man, several years under thirty, apparently, so -far as his age could be guessed from a face that wore a short soft -beard, and was so begrimed with dust and incrusted with blood that -little could be seen of the underlying integument. What was visible -showed a skin browned by nature or by exposure. His hands were of even a -darker brown, almost as dark as Cicely's own. A tangled mass of very -curly black hair, matted with burs, dank with dew, and clotted with -blood, fell partly over his forehead, on the edge of which, extending -back into the hair, an ugly scalp wound was gaping, and, though -apparently not just inflicted, was still bleeding slowly, as though -reluctant to stop, in spite of the coagulation that had almost closed -it. - -Cicely with a glance took in all this and more. But, first of all, she -saw the man was wounded and bleeding, and the nurse latent in all -womankind awoke in her to the requirements of the situation. She knew -there was a spring a few rods away, and ran swiftly to it. There was -usually a gourd at the spring, but now it was gone. Pouring out the -blackberries in a little heap where they could be found again, she took -off her apron, dipped one end of it into the spring, and ran back to the -wounded man. The apron was clean, and she squeezed a little stream of -water from it into the man's mouth. He swallowed it with avidity. Cicely -then knelt by his side, and with the wet end of her apron washed the -blood from the wound lightly, and the dust from the man's face. Then she -looked at her apron a moment, debating whether she should tear it or -not. - -"I 'm feared granny 'll be mad," she said to herself. "I reckon I 'll -jes' use de whole apron." - -So she bound the apron around his head as well as she could, and then -sat down a moment on a fallen tree trunk, to think what she should do -next. The man already seemed more comfortable; he had ceased moaning, -and lay quiet, though breathing heavily. - -"What shall I do with that man?" she reflected. "I don' know whether -he 's a w'ite man or a black man. Ef he 's a w'ite man, I oughter go an' -tell de w'ite folks up at de big house, an' dey 'd take keer of 'im. If -he 's a black man, I oughter go tell granny. He don' look lack a black -man somehow er nuther, an' yet he don' look lack a w'ite man; he 's too -dahk, an' his hair's too curly. But I mus' do somethin' wid 'im. He -can't be lef' here ter die in de woods all by hisse'f. Reckon I 'll go -an' tell granny." - -She scaled the fence, caught up the basket of peas from where she had -left it, and ran, lightly and swiftly as a deer, toward the house. Her -short skirt did not impede her progress, and in a few minutes she had -covered the half mile and was at the cabin door, a slight heaving of her -full and yet youthful breast being the only sign of any unusual -exertion. - -Her story was told in a moment. The old woman took down a black bottle -from a high shelf, and set out with Cicely across the cornfield, toward -the wounded man. - -As they went through the corn Cicely recalled part of her dream. She had -dreamed that under some strange circumstances--what they had been was -still obscure--she had met a young man--a young man whiter than she and -yet not all white--and that he had loved her and courted her and married -her. Her dream had been all the sweeter because in it she had first -tasted the sweetness of love, and she had not recalled it before because -only in her dream had she known or thought of love as something -supremely desirable. - -With the memory of her dream, however, her fears revived. Dreams were -solemn things. To Cicely the fabric of a vision was by no means -baseless. Her trouble arose from her not being able to recall, though -she was well versed in dream-lore, just what event was foreshadowed by a -dream of finding a wounded man. If the wounded man were of her own race, -her dream would thus far have been realized, and having met the young -man, the other joys might be expected to follow. If he should turn out -to be a white man, then her dream was clearly one of the kind that go by -contraries, and she could expect only sorrow and trouble and pain as the -proper sequences of this fateful discovery. - - - -II - - -The two women reached the fence that separated the cornfield from the -pine woods. - -"How is I gwine ter git ovuh dat fence, chile?" asked the old woman. - -"Wait a minute, granny," said Cicely; "I 'll take it down." - -It was only an eight-rail fence, and it was a matter of but a few -minutes for the girl to lift down and lay to either side the ends of the -rails that formed one of the angles. This done, the old woman easily -stepped across the remaining two or three rails. It was only a moment -before they stood by the wounded man. He was lying still, breathing -regularly, and seemingly asleep. - -"What is he, granny," asked the girl anxiously, "a w'ite man, or not?" - -Old Dinah pushed back the matted hair from the wounded man's brow, and -looked at the skin beneath. It was fairer there, but yet of a decided -brown. She raised his hand, pushed back the tattered sleeve from his -wrist, and then she laid his hand down gently. - -"Mos' lackly he 's a mulatter man f'om up de country somewhar. He don' -look lack dese yer niggers roun' yere, ner yet lack a w'ite man. But de -po' boy's in a bad fix, w'ateber he is, an' I 'spec's we bettah do w'at -we kin fer 'im, an' w'en he comes to he 'll tell us w'at he is--er w'at -he calls hisse'f. Hol' 'is head up, chile, an' I 'll po' a drop er dis -yer liquor down his th'oat; dat 'll bring 'im to quicker 'n anything -e'se I knows." - -Cicely lifted the sick man's head, and Dinah poured a few drops of the -whiskey between his teeth. He swallowed it readily enough. In a few -minutes he opened his eyes and stared blankly at the two women. Cicely -saw that his eyes were large and black, and glistening with fever. - -"How you feelin', suh?" asked the old woman. - -There was no answer. - -"Is you feelin' bettah now?" - -The wounded man kept on staring blankly. Suddenly he essayed to put his -hand to his head, gave a deep groan, and fell back again unconscious. - -"He 's gone ag'in," said Dinah. "I reckon we 'll hafter tote 'im up ter -de house and take keer er 'im dere. W'ite folks would n't want ter fool -wid a nigger man, an' we doan know who his folks is. He 's outer his -head an' will be fer some time yet, an' we can't tell nuthin' 'bout 'im -tel he comes ter his senses." - -Cicely lifted the wounded man by the arms and shoulders. She was strong, -with the strength of youth and a sturdy race. The man was pitifully -emaciated; how much, the two women had not suspected until they raised -him. They had no difficulty whatever, except for the awkwardness of such -a burden, in lifting him over the fence and carrying him through the -cornfield to the cabin. - -They laid him on Cicely's bed in the little lean-to shed that formed a -room separate from the main apartment of the cabin. The old woman sent -Cicely to cook the dinner, while she gave her own attention exclusively -to the still unconscious man. She brought water and washed him as though -he were a child. - -"Po' boy," she said, "he doan feel lack he 's be'n eatin' nuff to feed a -sparrer. He 'pears ter be mos' starved ter def." - -She washed his wound more carefully, made some lint,--the art was well -known in the sixties,--and dressed his wound with a fair degree of -skill. - -"Somebody must 'a' be'n tryin' ter put yo' light out, chile," she -muttered to herself as she adjusted the bandage around his head. "A -little higher er a little lower, an' you would n' 'a' be'n yere ter tell -de tale. Dem clo's," she argued, lifting the tattered garments she had -removed from her patient, "don' b'long 'roun' yere. Dat kinder weavin' -come f'om down to'ds Souf Ca'lina. I wish Needham 'u'd come erlong. He -kin tell who dis man is, an' all erbout 'im." - -She made a bowl of gruel, and fed it, drop by drop, to the sick man. -This roused him somewhat from his stupor, but when Dinah thought he had -enough of the gruel, and stopped feeding him, he closed his eyes again -and relapsed into a heavy sleep that was so closely akin to -unconsciousness as to be scarcely distinguishable from it. - -When old Needham came home at noon, his wife, who had been anxiously -awaiting his return, told him in a few words the story of Cicely's -discovery and of the subsequent events. - -Needham inspected the stranger with a professional eye. He had been -something of a plantation doctor in his day, and was known far and wide -for his knowledge of simple remedies. The negroes all around, as well as -many of the poorer white people, came to him for the treatment of common -ailments. - -"He 's got a fevuh," he said, after feeling the patient's pulse and -laying his hand on his brow, "an' we 'll hafter gib 'im some yarb tea -an' nuss 'im tel de fevuh w'ars off. I 'spec'," he added, "dat I knows -whar dis boy come f'om. He 's mos' lackly one er dem bright mulatters, -f'om Robeson County--some of 'em call deyse'ves Croatan Injins--w'at's -been conscripted an' sent ter wu'k on de fo'tifications down at -Wimbleton er some'er's er nuther, an' done 'scaped, and got mos' killed -gittin' erway, an' wuz n' none too well fed befo', an' nigh 'bout -starved ter def sence. We 'll hafter hide dis man, er e'se we is lackly -ter git inter trouble ou'se'ves by harb'rin' 'im. Ef dey ketch 'im yere, -dey 's liable ter take 'im out an' shoot 'im--an' des ez lackly us too." - -Cicely was listening with bated breath. - -"Oh, gran'daddy," she cried with trembling voice, "don' let 'em ketch -'im! Hide 'im somewhar." - -"I reckon we 'll leave 'im yere fer a day er so. Ef he had come f'om -roun' yere I 'd be skeered ter keep 'im, fer de w'ite folks 'u'd prob'ly -be lookin' fer 'im. But I knows ev'ybody w'at's be'n conscripted fer ten -miles 'roun', an' dis yere boy don' b'long in dis neighborhood. W'en 'e -gits so 'e kin he'p 'isse'f we 'll put 'im up in de lof an' hide 'im -till de Yankees come. Fer dey 're comin', sho'. I dremp' las' night dey -wuz close ter han', and I hears de w'ite folks talkin' ter deyse'ves -'bout it. An' de time is comin' w'en de good Lawd gwine ter set his -people free, an' it ain' gwine ter be long, nuther." - -Needham's prophecy proved true. In less than a week the Confederate -garrison evacuated the arsenal in the neighboring town of Patesville, -blew up the buildings, destroyed the ordnance and stores, and retreated -across the Cape Fear River, burning the river bridge behind them,--two -acts of war afterwards unjustly attributed to General Sherman's army, -which followed close upon the heels of the retreating Confederates. - -When there was no longer any fear for the stranger's safety, no more -pains were taken to conceal him. His wound had healed rapidly, and in a -week he had been able with some help to climb up the ladder into the -loft. In all this time, however, though apparently conscious, he had -said no word to any one, nor had he seemed to comprehend a word that was -spoken to him. - -Cicely had been his constant attendant. After the first day, during -which her granny had nursed him, she had sat by his bedside, had fanned -his fevered brow, had held food and water and medicine to his lips. When -it was safe for him to come down from the loft and sit in a chair under -a spreading oak, Cicely supported him until he was strong enough to walk -about the yard. When his strength had increased sufficiently to permit -of greater exertion, she accompanied him on long rambles in the fields -and woods. - -In spite of his gain in physical strength, the newcomer changed very -little in other respects. For a long time he neither spoke nor smiled. -To questions put to him he simply gave no reply, but looked at his -questioner with the blank unconsciousness of an infant. By and by he -began to recognize Cicely, and to smile at her approach. The next step -in returning consciousness was but another manifestation of the same -sentiment. When Cicely would leave him he would look his regret, and be -restless and uneasy until she returned. - -The family were at a loss what to call him. To any inquiry as to his -name he answered no more than to other questions. - -"He come jes' befo' Sherman," said Needham, after a few weeks, "lack -John de Baptis' befo' de Lawd. I reckon we bettah call 'im John." - -So they called him John. He soon learned the name. As time went on -Cicely found that he was quick at learning things. She taught him to -speak her own negro English, which he pronounced with absolute fidelity -to her intonations; so that barring the quality of his voice, his -speech was an echo of Cicely's own. - -The summer wore away and the autumn came. John and Cicely wandered in -the woods together and gathered walnuts, and chinquapins and wild -grapes. When harvest time came, they worked in the fields side by -side,--plucked the corn, pulled the fodder, and gathered the dried peas -from the yellow pea-vines. Cicely was a phenomenal cotton-picker, and -John accompanied her to the fields and stayed by her hours at a time, -though occasionally he would complain of his head, and sit under a tree -and rest part of the day while Cicely worked, the two keeping one -another always in sight. - -They did not have a great deal of intercourse with other people. Young -men came to the cabin sometimes to see Cicely, but when they found her -entirely absorbed in the stranger they ceased their visits. For a time -Cicely kept him away, as much as possible, from others, because she did -not wish them to see that there was anything wrong about him. This was -her motive at first, but after a while she kept him to herself simply -because she was happier so. He was hers--hers alone. She had found him, -as Pharaoh's daughter had found Moses in the bulrushes; she had taught -him to speak, to think, to love. She had not taught him to remember; she -would not have wished him to; she would have been jealous of any past to -which he might have proved bound by other ties. Her dream so far had -come true. She had found him; he loved her. The rest of it would as -surely follow, and that before long. For dreams were serious things, and -time had proved hers to have been not a presage of misfortune, but one -of the beneficent visions that are sent, that we may enjoy by -anticipation the good things that are in store for us. - - - -III - - -But a short interval of time elapsed after the passage of the warlike -host that swept through North Carolina, until there appeared upon the -scene the vanguard of a second army, which came to bring light and the -fruits of liberty to a land which slavery and the havoc of war had -brought to ruin. It is fashionable to assume that those who undertook -the political rehabilitation of the Southern States merely rounded out -the ruin that the war had wrought--merely ploughed up the desolate land -and sowed it with salt. Perhaps the gentler judgments of the future may -recognize that their task was a difficult one, and that wiser and -honester men might have failed as egregiously. It may even, in time, be -conceded that some good came out of the carpet-bag governments, as, for -instance, the establishment of a system of popular education in the -former slave States. Where it had been a crime to teach people to read -or write, a schoolhouse dotted every hillside, and the State provided -education for rich and poor, for white and black alike. Let us lay at -least this token upon the grave of the carpet-baggers. The evil they did -lives after them, and the statute of limitations does not seem to run -against it. It is but just that we should not forget the good. - -Long, however, before the work of political reconstruction had begun, a -brigade of Yankee schoolmasters and schoolma'ams had invaded Dixie, and -one of the latter had opened a Freedman's Bureau School in the town of -Patesville, about four miles from Needham Green's cabin on the -neighboring sandhills. - -It had been quite a surprise to Miss Chandler's Boston friends when she -had announced her intention of going South to teach the freedmen. Rich, -accomplished, beautiful, and a social favorite, she was giving up the -comforts and luxuries of Northern life to go among hostile strangers, -where her associates would be mostly ignorant negroes. Perhaps she might -meet occasionally an officer of some Federal garrison, or a traveler -from the North; but to all intents and purposes her friends considered -her as going into voluntary exile. But heroism was not rare in those -days, and Martha Chandler was only one of the great multitude whose -hearts went out toward an oppressed race, and who freely poured out -their talents, their money, their lives,--whatever God had given -them,--in the sublime and not unfruitful effort to transform three -millions of slaves into intelligent freemen. Miss Chandler's friends -knew, too, that she had met a great sorrow, and more than suspected that -out of it had grown her determination to go South. - -When Cicely Green heard that a school for colored people had been -opened at Patesville she combed her hair, put on her Sunday frock and -such bits of finery as she possessed, and set out for town early the -next Monday morning. - -There were many who came to learn the new gospel of education, which was -to be the cure for all the freedmen's ills. The old and gray-haired, the -full-grown man and woman, the toddling infant,--they came to acquire the -new and wonderful learning that was to make them the equals of the white -people. It was the teacher's task, by no means an easy one, to select -from this incongruous mass the most promising material, and to -distribute among them the second-hand books and clothing that were sent, -largely by her Boston friends, to aid her in her work; to find out what -they knew, to classify them by their intelligence rather than by their -knowledge, for they were all lamentably ignorant. Some among them were -the children of parents who had been free before the war, and of these -some few could read and one or two could write. One paragon, who could -repeat the multiplication table, was immediately promoted to the -position of pupil teacher. - -Miss Chandler took a liking to the tall girl who had come so far to sit -under her instruction. There was a fine, free air in her bearing, a -lightness in her step, a sparkle in her eye, that spoke of good -blood,--whether fused by nature in its own alembic, out of material -despised and spurned of men, or whether some obscure ancestral strain, -the teacher could not tell. The girl proved intelligent and learned -rapidly, indeed seemed almost feverishly anxious to learn. She was -quiet, and was, though utterly untrained, instinctively polite, and -profited from the first day by the example of her teacher's quiet -elegance. The teacher dressed in simple black. When Cicely came back to -school the second day, she had left off her glass beads and her red -ribbon, and had arranged her hair as nearly like the teacher's as her -skill and its quality would permit. - -The teacher was touched by these efforts at imitation, and by the -intense devotion Cicely soon manifested toward her. It was not a -sycophantic, troublesome devotion, that made itself a burden to its -object. It found expression in little things done rather than in any -words the girl said. To the degree that the attraction was mutual, -Martha recognized in it a sort of freemasonry of temperament that drew -them together in spite of the differences between them. Martha felt -sometimes, in the vague way that one speculates about the impossible, -that if she were brown, and had been brought up in North Carolina, she -would be like Cicely; and that if Cicely's ancestors had come over in -the Mayflower, and Cicely had been reared on Beacon Street, in the -shadow of the State House dome, Cicely would have been very much like -herself. - -Miss Chandler was lonely sometimes. Her duties kept her occupied all -day. On Sundays she taught a Bible class in the schoolroom. -Correspondence with bureau officials and friends at home furnished her -with additional occupation. At times, nevertheless, she felt a longing -for the company of women of her own race; but the white ladies of the -town did not call, even in the most formal way, upon the Yankee -school-teacher. Miss Chandler was therefore fain to do the best she -could with such companionship as was available. She took Cicely to her -home occasionally, and asked her once to stay all night. Thinking, -however, that she detected a reluctance on the girl's part to remain -away from home, she did not repeat her invitation. - -Cicely, indeed, was filling a double rôle. The learning acquired from -Miss Chandler she imparted to John at home. Every evening, by the light -of the pine-knots blazing on Needham's ample hearth, she taught John to -read the simple words she had learned during the day. Why she did not -take him to school she had never asked herself; there were several other -pupils as old as he seemed to be. Perhaps she still thought it necessary -to protect him from curious remark. He worked with Needham by day, and -she could see him at night, and all of Saturdays and Sundays. Perhaps it -was the jealous selfishness of love. She had found him; he was hers. In -the spring, when school was over, her granny had said that she might -marry him. Till then her dream would not yet have come true, and she -must keep him to herself. And yet she did not wish him to lose this -golden key to the avenues of opportunity. She would not take him to -school, but she would teach him each day all that she herself had -learned. He was not difficult to teach, but learned, indeed, with what -seemed to Cicely marvelous ease,--always, however, by her lead, and -never of his own initiative. For while he could do a man's work, he was -in most things but a child, without a child's curiosity. His love for -Cicely appeared the only thing for which he needed no suggestion; and -even that possessed an element of childish dependence that would have -seemed, to minds trained to thoughtful observation, infinitely pathetic. - -The spring came and cotton-planting time. The children began to drop out -of Miss Chandler's school one by one, as their services were required at -home. Cicely was among those who intended to remain in school until the -term closed with the "exhibition," in which she was assigned a leading -part. She had selected her recitation, or "speech," from among half a -dozen poems that her teacher had suggested, and to memorizing it she -devoted considerable time and study. The exhibition, as the first of its -kind, was sure to be a notable event. The parents and friends of the -children were invited to attend, and a colored church, recently -erected,--the largest available building,--was secured as the place -where the exercises should take place. - -On the morning of the eventful day, uncle Needham, assisted by John, -harnessed the mule to the two-wheeled cart, on which a couple of -splint-bottomed chairs were fastened to accommodate Dinah and Cicely. -John put on his best clothes,--an ill-fitting suit of blue jeans,--a -round wool hat, a pair of coarse brogans, a homespun shirt, and a bright -blue necktie. Cicely wore her best frock, a red ribbon at her throat, -another in her hair, and carried a bunch of flowers in her hand. Uncle -Needham and aunt Dinah were also in holiday array. Needham and John took -their seats on opposite sides of the cart-frame, with their feet -dangling down, and thus the equipage set out leisurely for the town. - -Cicely had long looked forward impatiently to this day. She was going to -marry John the next week, and then her dream would have come entirely -true. But even this anticipated happiness did not overshadow the -importance of the present occasion, which would be an epoch in her life, -a day of joy and triumph. She knew her speech perfectly, and timidity -was not one of her weaknesses. She knew that the red ribbons set off her -dark beauty effectively, and that her dress fitted neatly the curves of -her shapely figure. She confidently expected to win the first prize, a -large morocco-covered Bible, offered by Miss Chandler for the best -exercise. - -Cicely and her companions soon arrived at Patesville. Their entrance -into the church made quite a sensation, for Cicely was not only an -acknowledged belle, but a general favorite, and to John there attached a -tinge of mystery which inspired a respect not bestowed upon those who -had grown up in the neighborhood. Cicely secured a seat in the front -part of the church, next to the aisle, in the place reserved for the -pupils. As the house was already partly filled by townspeople when the -party from the country arrived, Needham and his wife and John were -forced to content themselves with places somewhat in the rear of the -room, from which they could see and hear what took place on the -platform, but where they were not at all conspicuously visible to those -at the front of the church. - -The schoolmistress had not yet arrived, and order was preserved in the -audience by two of the elder pupils, adorned with large rosettes of red, -white, and blue, who ushered the most important visitors to the seats -reserved for them. A national flag was gracefully draped over the -platform, and under it hung a lithograph of the Great Emancipator, for -it was thus these people thought of him. He had saved the Union, but the -Union had never meant anything good to them. He had proclaimed liberty -to the captive, which meant all to them; and to them he was and would -ever be the Great Emancipator. - -The schoolmistress came in at a rear door and took her seat upon the -platform. Martha was dressed in white; for once she had laid aside the -sombre garb in which alone she had been seen since her arrival at -Patesville. She wore a yellow rose at her throat, a bunch of jasmine in -her belt. A sense of responsibility for the success of the exhibition -had deepened the habitual seriousness of her face, yet she greeted the -audience with a smile. - -"Don' Miss Chan'ler look sweet," whispered the little girls to one -another, devouring her beauty with sparkling eyes, their lips parted -over a wealth of ivory. - -"De Lawd will bress dat chile," said one old woman, in soliloquy. "I -t'ank de good Marster I 's libbed ter see dis day." - -Even envy could not hide its noisome head: a pretty quadroon whispered -to her neighbor:---- - -"I don't b'liebe she 's natch'ly ez white ez dat. I 'spec' she 's be'n -powd'rin'! An' I know all dat hair can't be her'n; she 's got on a -switch, sho 's you bawn." - -"You knows dat ain' so, Ma'y 'Liza Smif," rejoined the other, with a -look of stern disapproval; "you _knows_ dat ain' so. You 'd gib yo' -everlastin' soul 'f you wuz ez white ez Miss Chan'ler, en yo' ha'r wuz -ez long ez her'n." - -"By Jove, Maxwell!" exclaimed a young officer, who belonged to the -Federal garrison stationed in the town, "but that girl is a beauty." The -speaker and a companion were in fatigue uniform, and had merely dropped -in for an hour between garrison duty. The ushers had wished to give them -seats on the platform, but they had declined, thinking that perhaps -their presence there might embarrass the teacher. They sought rather to -avoid observation by sitting behind a pillar in the rear of the room, -around which they could see without attracting undue attention. - -"To think," the lieutenant went on, "of that Junonian figure, those -lustrous orbs, that golden coronal, that flower of Northern -civilization, being wasted on these barbarians!" The speaker uttered an -exaggerated but suppressed groan. - -His companion, a young man of clean-shaven face and serious aspect, -nodded assent, but whispered reprovingly,---- - -"'Sh! some one will hear you. The exercises are going to begin." - -When Miss Chandler stepped forward to announce the hymn to be sung by -the school as the first exercise, every eye in the room was fixed upon -her, except John's, which saw only Cicely. When the teacher had uttered -a few words, he looked up to her, and from that moment did not take his -eyes off Martha's face. - -After the singing, a little girl, dressed in white, crossed by ribbons -of red and blue, recited with much spirit a patriotic poem. - -When Martha announced the third exercise, John's face took on a more -than usually animated expression, and there was a perceptible deepening -of the troubled look in his eyes, never entirely absent since Cicely had -found him in the woods. - -A little yellow boy, with long curls, and a frightened air, next -ascended the platform. - -"Now, Jimmie, be a man, and speak right out," whispered his teacher, -tapping his arm reassuringly with her fan as he passed her. - -Jimmie essayed to recite the lines so familiar to a past generation of -schoolchildren:---- - - "I knew a widow very poor, - Who four small children had; - The eldest was but six years old, - A gentle, modest lad." - -He ducked his head hurriedly in a futile attempt at a bow; then, -following instructions previously given him, fixed his eyes upon a large -cardboard motto hanging on the rear wall of the room, which admonished -him in bright red letters to - -"ALWAYS SPEAK THE TRUTH," - -and started off with assumed confidence - - "I knew a widow very poor, - Who"---- - -At this point, drawn by an irresistible impulse, his eyes sought the -level of the audience. Ah, fatal blunder! He stammered, but with an -effort raised his eyes and began again: - - "I knew a widow very poor, - Who four"---- - -Again his treacherous eyes fell, and his little remaining -self-possession utterly forsook him. He made one more despairing -effort:---- - - "I knew a widow very poor, - Who four small"---- - -and then, bursting into tears, turned and fled amid a murmur of -sympathy. - -Jimmie's inglorious retreat was covered by the singing in chorus of "The -Star-spangled Banner," after which Cicely Green came forward to recite -her poem. - -"By Jove, Maxwell!" whispered the young officer, who was evidently a -connoisseur of female beauty, "that is n't bad for a bronze Venus. I 'll -tell you"---- - -"'Sh!" said the other. "Keep still." - -When Cicely finished her recitation, the young officers began to -applaud, but stopped suddenly in some confusion as they realized that -they were the only ones in the audience so engaged. The colored people -had either not learned how to express their approval in orthodox -fashion, or else their respect for the sacred character of the edifice -forbade any such demonstration. Their enthusiasm found vent, however, in -a subdued murmur, emphasized by numerous nods and winks and suppressed -exclamations. During the singing that followed Cicely's recitation the -two officers quietly withdrew, their duties calling them away at this -hour. - -At the close of the exercises, a committee on prizes met in the -vestibule, and unanimously decided that Cicely Green was entitled to the -first prize. Proudly erect, with sparkling eyes and cheeks flushed with -victory, Cicely advanced to the platform to receive the coveted reward. -As she turned away, her eyes, shining with gratified vanity, sought -those of her lover. - -John sat bent slightly forward in an attitude of strained attention; and -Cicely's triumph lost half its value when she saw that it was not at -her, but at Miss Chandler, that his look was directed. Though she -watched him thenceforward, not one glance did he vouchsafe to his -jealous sweetheart, and never for an instant withdrew his eyes from -Martha, or relaxed the unnatural intentness of his gaze. The imprisoned -mind, stirred to unwonted effort, was struggling for liberty; and from -Martha had come the first ray of outer light that had penetrated its -dungeon. - -Before the audience was dismissed, the teacher rose to bid her school -farewell. Her intention was to take a vacation of three months; but what -might happen in that time she did not know, and there were duties at -home of such apparent urgency as to render her return to North Carolina -at least doubtful; so that in her own heart her _au revoir_ sounded very -much like a farewell. - -She spoke to them of the hopeful progress they had made, and praised -them for their eager desire to learn. She told them of the serious -duties of life, and of the use they should make of their acquirements. -With prophetic finger she pointed them to the upward way which they -must climb with patient feet to raise themselves out of the depths. - -Then, an unusual thing with her, she spoke of herself. Her heart was -full; it was with difficulty that she maintained her composure; for the -faces that confronted her were kindly faces, and not critical, and some -of them she had learned to love right well. - -"I am going away from you, my children," she said; "but before I go I -want to tell you how I came to be in North Carolina; so that if I have -been able to do anything here among you for which you might feel -inclined, in your good nature, to thank me, you may thank not me alone, -but another who came before me, and whose work I have but taken up where -_he_ laid it down. I had a friend,--a dear friend,--why should I be -ashamed to say it?--a lover, to whom I was to be married,--as I hope all -you girls may some day be happily married. His country needed him, and I -gave him up. He came to fight for the Union and for Freedom, for he -believed that all men are brothers. He did not come back again--he gave -up his life for you. Could I do less than he? I came to the land that he -sanctified by his death, and I have tried in my weak way to tend the -plant he watered with his blood, and which, in the fullness of time, -will blossom forth into the perfect flower of liberty." - -She could say no more, and as the whole audience thrilled in sympathy -with her emotion, there was a hoarse cry from the men's side of the -room, and John forced his way to the aisle and rushed forward to the -platform. - -"Martha! Martha!" - -"Arthur! O Arthur!" - -Pent-up love burst the flood-gates of despair and oblivion, and caught -these two young hearts in its torrent. Captain Arthur Carey, of the 1st -Massachusetts, long since reported missing, and mourned as dead, was -restored to reason and to his world. - -It seemed to him but yesterday that he had escaped from the Confederate -prison at Salisbury; that in an encounter with a guard he had received a -wound in the head; that he had wandered on in the woods, keeping himself -alive by means of wild berries, with now and then a piece of bread or a -potato from a friendly negro. It seemed but the night before that he -had laid himself down, tortured with fever, weak from loss of blood, and -with no hope that he would ever rise again. From that moment his memory -of the past was a blank until he recognized Martha on the platform and -took up again the thread of his former existence where it had been -broken off. - - * * * * * - -And Cicely? Well, there is often another woman, and Cicely, all -unwittingly to Carey or to Martha, had been the other woman. For, after -all, her beautiful dream had been one of the kind that go by contraries. - - - - -The Passing of Grandison - - - -I - - -When it is said that it was done to please a woman, there ought perhaps -to be enough said to explain anything; for what a man will not do to -please a woman is yet to be discovered. Nevertheless, it might be well -to state a few preliminary facts to make it clear why young Dick Owens -tried to run one of his father's negro men off to Canada. - -In the early fifties, when the growth of anti-slavery sentiment and the -constant drain of fugitive slaves into the North had so alarmed the -slaveholders of the border States as to lead to the passage of the -Fugitive Slave Law, a young white man from Ohio, moved by compassion for -the sufferings of a certain bondman who happened to have a "hard -master," essayed to help the slave to freedom. The attempt was -discovered and frustrated; the abductor was tried and convicted for -slave-stealing, and sentenced to a term of imprisonment in the -penitentiary. His death, after the expiration of only a small part of -the sentence, from cholera contracted while nursing stricken fellow -prisoners, lent to the case a melancholy interest that made it famous in -anti-slavery annals. - -Dick Owens had attended the trial. He was a youth of about twenty-two, -intelligent, handsome, and amiable, but extremely indolent, in a -graceful and gentlemanly way; or, as old Judge Fenderson put it more -than once, he was lazy as the Devil,--a mere figure of speech, of -course, and not one that did justice to the Enemy of Mankind. When asked -why he never did anything serious, Dick would good-naturedly reply, with -a well-modulated drawl, that he did n't have to. His father was rich; -there was but one other child, an unmarried daughter, who because of -poor health would probably never marry, and Dick was therefore heir -presumptive to a large estate. Wealth or social position he did not need -to seek, for he was born to both. Charity Lomax had shamed him into -studying law, but notwithstanding an hour or so a day spent at old Judge -Fenderson's office, he did not make remarkable headway in his legal -studies. - -"What Dick needs," said the judge, who was fond of tropes, as became a -scholar, and of horses, as was befitting a Kentuckian, "is the whip of -necessity, or the spur of ambition. If he had either, he would soon need -the snaffle to hold him back." - -But all Dick required, in fact, to prompt him to the most remarkable -thing he accomplished before he was twenty-five, was a mere suggestion -from Charity Lomax. The story was never really known to but two persons -until after the war, when it came out because it was a good story and -there was no particular reason for its concealment. - -Young Owens had attended the trial of this slave-stealer, or -martyr,--either or both,--and, when it was over, had gone to call on -Charity Lomax, and, while they sat on the veranda after sundown, had -told her all about the trial. He was a good talker, as his career in -later years disclosed, and described the proceedings very graphically. - -"I confess," he admitted, "that while my principles were against the -prisoner, my sympathies were on his side. It appeared that he was of -good family, and that he had an old father and mother, respectable -people, dependent upon him for support and comfort in their declining -years. He had been led into the matter by pity for a negro whose master -ought to have been run out of the county long ago for abusing his -slaves. If it had been merely a question of old Sam Briggs's negro, -nobody would have cared anything about it. But father and the rest of -them stood on the principle of the thing, and told the judge so, and the -fellow was sentenced to three years in the penitentiary." - -Miss Lomax had listened with lively interest. - -"I 've always hated old Sam Briggs," she said emphatically, "ever since -the time he broke a negro's leg with a piece of cordwood. When I hear of -a cruel deed it makes the Quaker blood that came from my grandmother -assert itself. Personally I wish that all Sam Briggs's negroes would run -away. As for the young man, I regard him as a hero. He dared something -for humanity. I could love a man who would take such chances for the -sake of others." - -"Could you love me, Charity, if I did something heroic?" - -"You never will, Dick. You 're too lazy for any use. You 'll never do -anything harder than playing cards or fox-hunting." - -"Oh, come now, sweetheart! I 've been courting you for a year, and it 's -the hardest work imaginable. Are you never going to love me?" he -pleaded. - -His hand sought hers, but she drew it back beyond his reach. - -"I 'll never love you, Dick Owens, until you have done something. When -that time comes, I 'll think about it." - -"But it takes so long to do anything worth mentioning, and I don't want -to wait. One must read two years to become a lawyer, and work five more -to make a reputation. We shall both be gray by then." - -"Oh, I don't know," she rejoined. "It does n't require a lifetime for a -man to prove that he is a man. This one did something, or at least tried -to." - -"Well, I 'm willing to attempt as much as any other man. What do you -want me to do, sweetheart? Give me a test." - -"Oh, dear me!" said Charity, "I don't care what you _do_, so you do -_something_. Really, come to think of it, why should I care whether you -do anything or not?" - -"I 'm sure I don't know why you should, Charity," rejoined Dick humbly, -"for I 'm aware that I 'm not worthy of it." - -"Except that I do hate," she added, relenting slightly, "to see a really -clever man so utterly lazy and good for nothing." - -"Thank you, my dear; a word of praise from you has sharpened my wits -already. I have an idea! Will you love me if I run a negro off to -Canada?" - -"What nonsense!" said Charity scornfully. "You must be losing your wits. -Steal another man's slave, indeed, while your father owns a hundred!" - -"Oh, there 'll be no trouble about that," responded Dick lightly; "I 'll -run off one of the old man's; we 've got too many anyway. It may not be -quite as difficult as the other man found it, but it will be just as -unlawful, and will demonstrate what I am capable of." - -"Seeing 's believing," replied Charity. "Of course, what you are talking -about now is merely absurd. I 'm going away for three weeks, to visit my -aunt in Tennessee. If you 're able to tell me, when I return, that you 've -done something to prove your quality, I 'll--well, you may come and tell -me about it." - - - -II - - -Young Owens got up about nine o'clock next morning, and while making his -toilet put some questions to his personal attendant, a rather bright -looking young mulatto of about his own age. - -"Tom," said Dick. - -"Yas, Mars Dick," responded the servant. - -"I 'm going on a trip North. Would you like to go with me?" - -Now, if there was anything that Tom would have liked to make, it was a -trip North. It was something he had long contemplated in the abstract, -but had never been able to muster up sufficient courage to attempt in -the concrete. He was prudent enough, however, to dissemble his feelings. - -"I would n't min' it, Mars Dick, ez long ez you 'd take keer er me an' -fetch me home all right." - -Tom's eyes belied his words, however, and his young master felt well -assured that Tom needed only a good opportunity to make him run away. -Having a comfortable home, and a dismal prospect in case of failure, Tom -was not likely to take any desperate chances; but young Owens was -satisfied that in a free State but little persuasion would be required -to lead Tom astray. With a very logical and characteristic desire to -gain his end with the least necessary expenditure of effort, he decided -to take Tom with him, if his father did not object. - -Colonel Owens had left the house when Dick went to breakfast, so Dick -did not see his father till luncheon. - -"Father," he remarked casually to the colonel, over the fried chicken, -"I 'm feeling a trifle run down. I imagine my health would be improved -somewhat by a little travel and change of scene." - -"Why don't you take a trip North?" suggested his father. The colonel -added to paternal affection a considerable respect for his son as the -heir of a large estate. He himself had been "raised" in comparative -poverty, and had laid the foundations of his fortune by hard work; and -while he despised the ladder by which he had climbed, he could not -entirely forget it, and unconsciously manifested, in his intercourse -with his son, some of the poor man's deference toward the wealthy and -well-born. - -"I think I 'll adopt your suggestion, sir," replied the son, "and run -up to New York; and after I 've been there awhile I may go on to Boston -for a week or so. I 've never been there, you know." - -"There are some matters you can talk over with my factor in New York," -rejoined the colonel, "and while you are up there among the Yankees, I -hope you 'll keep your eyes and ears open to find out what the rascally -abolitionists are saying and doing. They 're becoming altogether too -active for our comfort, and entirely too many ungrateful niggers are -running away. I hope the conviction of that fellow yesterday may -discourage the rest of the breed. I 'd just like to catch any one trying -to run off one of my darkeys. He 'd get short shrift; I don't think any -Court would have a chance to try him." - -"They are a pestiferous lot," assented Dick, "and dangerous to our -institutions. But say, father, if I go North I shall want to take Tom -with me." - -Now, the colonel, while a very indulgent father, had pronounced views on -the subject of negroes, having studied them, as he often said, for a -great many years, and, as he asserted oftener still, understanding them -perfectly. It is scarcely worth while to say, either, that he valued -more highly than if he had inherited them the slaves he had toiled and -schemed for. - -"I don't think it safe to take Tom up North," he declared, with -promptness and decision. "He 's a good enough boy, but too smart to -trust among those low-down abolitionists. I strongly suspect him of -having learned to read, though I can't imagine how. I saw him with a -newspaper the other day, and while he pretended to be looking at a -woodcut, I 'm almost sure he was reading the paper. I think it by no -means safe to take him." - -Dick did not insist, because he knew it was useless. The colonel would -have obliged his son in any other matter, but his negroes were the -outward and visible sign of his wealth and station, and therefore sacred -to him. - -"Whom do you think it safe to take?" asked Dick. "I suppose I 'll have -to have a body-servant." - -"What 's the matter with Grandison?" suggested the colonel. "He 's handy -enough, and I reckon we can trust him. He 's too fond of good eating, -to risk losing his regular meals; besides, he 's sweet on your mother's -maid, Betty, and I 've promised to let 'em get married before long. I 'll -have Grandison up, and we 'll talk to him. Here, you boy Jack," called -the colonel to a yellow youth in the next room who was catching flies -and pulling their wings off to pass the time, "go down to the barn and -tell Grandison to come here." - -"Grandison," said the colonel, when the negro stood before him, hat in -hand. - -"Yas, marster." - -"Have n't I always treated you right?" - -"Yas, marster." - -"Have n't you always got all you wanted to eat?" - -"Yas, marster." - -"And as much whiskey and tobacco as was good for you, Grandison?" - -"Y-a-s, marster." - -"I should just like to know, Grandison, whether you don't think yourself -a great deal better off than those poor free negroes down by the plank -road, with no kind master to look after them and no mistress to give -them medicine when they 're sick and--and"---- - -"Well, I sh'd jes' reckon I is better off, suh, dan dem low-down free -niggers, suh! Ef anybody ax 'em who dey b'long ter, dey has ter say -nobody, er e'se lie erbout it. Anybody ax me who I b'longs ter, I ain' -got no 'casion ter be shame' ter tell 'em, no, suh, 'deed I ain', suh!" - -The colonel was beaming. This was true gratitude, and his feudal heart -thrilled at such appreciative homage. What cold-blooded, heartless -monsters they were who would break up this blissful relationship of -kindly protection on the one hand, of wise subordination and loyal -dependence on the other! The colonel always became indignant at the mere -thought of such wickedness. - -"Grandison," the colonel continued, "your young master Dick is going -North for a few weeks, and I am thinking of letting him take you along. -I shall send you on this trip, Grandison, in order that you may take -care of your young master. He will need some one to wait on him, and no -one can ever do it so well as one of the boys brought up with him on the -old plantation. I am going to trust him in your hands, and I 'm sure -you 'll do your duty faithfully, and bring him back home safe and -sound--to old Kentucky." - -Grandison grinned. "Oh yas, marster, I 'll take keer er young Mars -Dick." - -"I want to warn you, though, Grandison," continued the colonel -impressively, "against these cussed abolitionists, who try to entice -servants from their comfortable homes and their indulgent masters, from -the blue skies, the green fields, and the warm sunlight of their -southern home, and send them away off yonder to Canada, a dreary -country, where the woods are full of wildcats and wolves and bears, -where the snow lies up to the eaves of the houses for six months of the -year, and the cold is so severe that it freezes your breath and curdles -your blood; and where, when runaway niggers get sick and can't work, -they are turned out to starve and die, unloved and uncared for. I -reckon, Grandison, that you have too much sense to permit yourself to be -led astray by any such foolish and wicked people." - -"'Deed, suh, I would n' low none er dem cussed, low-down abolitioners -ter come nigh me, suh. I 'd--I 'd--would I be 'lowed ter hit 'em, suh?" - -"Certainly, Grandison," replied the colonel, chuckling, "hit 'em as hard -as you can. I reckon they 'd rather like it. Begad, I believe they -would! It would serve 'em right to be hit by a nigger!" - -"Er ef I did n't hit 'em, suh," continued Grandison reflectively, "I 'd -tell Mars Dick, en _he 'd_ fix 'em. He 'd smash de face off'n 'em, suh, -I jes' knows he would." - -"Oh yes, Grandison, your young master will protect you. You need fear no -harm while he is near." - -"Dey won't try ter steal me, will dey, marster?" asked the negro, with -sudden alarm. - -"I don't know, Grandison," replied the colonel, lighting a fresh cigar. -"They 're a desperate set of lunatics, and there 's no telling what they -may resort to. But if you stick close to your young master, and remember -always that he is your best friend, and understands your real needs, and -has your true interests at heart, and if you will be careful to avoid -strangers who try to talk to you, you 'll stand a fair chance of getting -back to your home and your friends. And if you please your master Dick, -he 'll buy you a present, and a string of beads for Betty to wear when -you and she get married in the fall." - -"Thanky, marster, thanky, suh," replied Grandison, oozing gratitude at -every pore; "you is a good marster, to be sho', suh; yas, 'deed you is. -You kin jes' bet me and Mars Dick gwine git 'long jes' lack I wuz own -boy ter Mars Dick. En it won't be my fault ef he don' want me fer his -boy all de time, w'en we come back home ag'in." - -"All right, Grandison, you may go now. You need n't work any more -to-day, and here 's a piece of tobacco for you off my own plug." - -"Thanky, marster, thanky, marster! You is de bes' marster any nigger -ever had in dis worl'." And Grandison bowed and scraped and disappeared -round the corner, his jaws closing around a large section of the -colonel's best tobacco. - -"You may take Grandison," said the colonel to his son. "I allow he 's -abolitionist-proof." - - - -III - - -Richard Owens, Esq., and servant, from Kentucky, registered at the -fashionable New York hostelry for Southerners in those days, a hotel -where an atmosphere congenial to Southern institutions was sedulously -maintained. But there were negro waiters in the dining-room, and mulatto -bell-boys, and Dick had no doubt that Grandison, with the native -gregariousness and garrulousness of his race, would foregather and -palaver with them sooner or later, and Dick hoped that they would -speedily inoculate him with the virus of freedom. For it was not Dick's -intention to say anything to his servant about his plan to free him, for -obvious reasons. To mention one of them, if Grandison should go away, -and by legal process be recaptured, his young master's part in the -matter would doubtless become known, which would be embarrassing to -Dick, to say the least. If, on the other hand, he should merely give -Grandison sufficient latitude, he had no doubt he would eventually lose -him. For while not exactly skeptical about Grandison's perfervid -loyalty, Dick had been a somewhat keen observer of human nature, in his -own indolent way, and based his expectations upon the force of the -example and argument that his servant could scarcely fail to encounter. -Grandison should have a fair chance to become free by his own -initiative; if it should become necessary to adopt other measures to get -rid of him, it would be time enough to act when the necessity arose; and -Dick Owens was not the youth to take needless trouble. - -The young master renewed some acquaintances and made others, and spent a -week or two very pleasantly in the best society of the metropolis, -easily accessible to a wealthy, well-bred young Southerner, with proper -introductions. Young women smiled on him, and young men of convivial -habits pressed their hospitalities; but the memory of Charity's sweet, -strong face and clear blue eyes made him proof against the blandishments -of the one sex and the persuasions of the other. Meanwhile he kept -Grandison supplied with pocket-money, and left him mainly to his own -devices. Every night when Dick came in he hoped he might have to wait -upon himself, and every morning he looked forward with pleasure to the -prospect of making his toilet unaided. His hopes, however, were doomed -to disappointment, for every night when he came in Grandison was on hand -with a bootjack, and a nightcap mixed for his young master as the -colonel had taught him to mix it, and every morning Grandison appeared -with his master's boots blacked and his clothes brushed, and laid his -linen out for the day. - -"Grandison," said Dick one morning, after finishing his toilet, "this is -the chance of your life to go around among your own people and see how -they live. Have you met any of them?" - -"Yas, suh, I 's seen some of 'em. But I don' keer nuffin fer 'em, suh. -Dey 're diffe'nt f'm de niggers down ou' way. Dey 'lows dey 're free, -but dey ain' got sense 'nuff ter know dey ain' half as well off as dey -would be down Souf, whar dey 'd be 'predated." - -When two weeks had passed without any apparent effect of evil example -upon Grandison, Dick resolved to go on to Boston, where he thought the -atmosphere might prove more favorable to his ends. After he had been at -the Revere House for a day or two without losing Grandison, he decided -upon slightly different tactics. - -Having ascertained from a city directory the addresses of several -well-known abolitionists, he wrote them each a letter something like -this:---- - - -Dear Friend and Brother:---- - -A wicked slaveholder from Kentucky, stopping at the Revere House, has -dared to insult the liberty-loving people of Boston by bringing his -slave into their midst. Shall this be tolerated? Or shall steps be taken -in the name of liberty to rescue a fellow-man from bondage? For obvious -reasons I can only sign myself, - -A Friend of Humanity. - -That his letter might have an opportunity to prove effective, Dick made -it a point to send Grandison away from the hotel on various errands. On -one of these occasions Dick watched him for quite a distance down the -street. Grandison had scarcely left the hotel when a long-haired, -sharp-featured man came out behind him, followed him, soon overtook him, -and kept along beside him until they turned the next corner. Dick's -hopes were roused by this spectacle, but sank correspondingly when -Grandison returned to the hotel. As Grandison said nothing about the -encounter, Dick hoped there might be some self-consciousness behind this -unexpected reticence, the results of which might develop later on. - -But Grandison was on hand again when his master came back to the hotel -at night, and was in attendance again in the morning, with hot water, to -assist at his master's toilet. Dick sent him on further errands from day -to day, and upon one occasion came squarely up to him--inadvertently of -course--while Grandison was engaged in conversation with a young white -man in clerical garb. When Grandison saw Dick approaching, he edged away -from the preacher and hastened toward his master, with a very evident -expression of relief upon his countenance. - -"Mars Dick," he said, "dese yer abolitioners is jes' pesterin' de life -out er me tryin' ter git me ter run away. I don' pay no 'tention ter -'em, but dey riles me so sometimes dat I 'm feared I 'll hit some of 'em -some er dese days, an' dat mought git me inter trouble. I ain' said -nuffin' ter you 'bout it, Mars Dick, fer I did n' wanter 'sturb yo' -min'; but I don' like it, suh; no, suh, I don'! Is we gwine back home -'fo' long, Mars Dick?" - -"We 'll be going back soon enough," replied Dick somewhat shortly, while -he inwardly cursed the stupidity of a slave who could be free and would -not, and registered a secret vow that if he were unable to get rid of -Grandison without assassinating him, and were therefore compelled to -take him back to Kentucky, he would see that Grandison got a taste of an -article of slavery that would make him regret his wasted opportunities. -Meanwhile he determined to tempt his servant yet more strongly. - -"Grandison," he said next morning, "I 'm going away for a day or two, -but I shall leave you here. I shall lock up a hundred dollars in this -drawer and give you the key. If you need any of it, use it and enjoy -yourself,--spend it all if you like,--for this is probably the last -chance you 'll have for some time to be in a free State, and you 'd -better enjoy your liberty while you may." - -When he came back a couple of days later and found the faithful -Grandison at his post, and the hundred dollars intact, Dick felt -seriously annoyed. His vexation was increased by the fact that he could -not express his feelings adequately. He did not even scold Grandison; -how could he, indeed, find fault with one who so sensibly recognized his -true place in the economy of civilization, and kept it with such -touching fidelity? - -"I can't say a thing to him," groaned Dick. "He deserves a leather -medal, made out of his own hide tanned. I reckon I 'll write to father -and let him know what a model servant he has given me." - -He wrote his father a letter which made the colonel swell with pride and -pleasure. "I really think," the colonel observed to one of his friends, -"that Dick ought to have the nigger interviewed by the Boston papers, so -that they may see how contented and happy our darkeys really are." - -Dick also wrote a long letter to Charity Lomax, in which he said, among -many other things, that if she knew how hard he was working, and under -what difficulties, to accomplish something serious for her sake, she -would no longer keep him in suspense, but overwhelm him with love and -admiration. - -Having thus exhausted without result the more obvious methods of -getting rid of Grandison, and diplomacy having also proved a failure, -Dick was forced to consider more radical measures. Of course he might -run away himself, and abandon Grandison, but this would be merely to -leave him in the United States, where he was still a slave, and where, -with his notions of loyalty, he would speedily be reclaimed. It was -necessary, in order to accomplish the purpose of his trip to the North, -to leave Grandison permanently in Canada, where he would be legally -free. - -"I might extend my trip to Canada," he reflected, "but that would be too -palpable. I have it! I 'll visit Niagara Falls on the way home, and lose -him on the Canada side. When he once realizes that he is actually free, -I 'll warrant that he 'll stay." - -So the next day saw them westward bound, and in due course of time, by -the somewhat slow conveyances of the period, they found themselves at -Niagara. Dick walked and drove about the Falls for several days, taking -Grandison along with him on most occasions. One morning they stood on -the Canadian side, watching the wild whirl of the waters below them. - -"Grandison," said Dick, raising his voice above the roar of the -cataract, "do you know where you are now?" - -"I 's wid you, Mars Dick; dat 's all I keers." - -"You are now in Canada, Grandison, where your people go when they run -away from their masters. If you wished, Grandison, you might walk away -from me this very minute, and I could not lay my hand upon you to take -you back." - -Grandison looked around uneasily. - -"Let 's go back ober de ribber, Mars Dick. I 's feared I 'll lose you -ovuh heah, an' den I won' hab no marster, an' won't nebber be able to -git back home no mo'." - -Discouraged, but not yet hopeless, Dick said, a few minutes later,---- - -"Grandison, I 'm going up the road a bit, to the inn over yonder. You -stay here until I return. I 'll not be gone a great while." - -Grandison's eyes opened wide and he looked somewhat fearful. - -"Is dey any er dem dadblasted abolitioners roun' heah, Mars Dick?" - -"I don't imagine that there are," replied his master, hoping there -might be. "But I 'm not afraid of _your_ running away, Grandison. I only -wish I were," he added to himself. - -Dick walked leisurely down the road to where the whitewashed inn, built -of stone, with true British solidity, loomed up through the trees by the -roadside. Arrived there he ordered a glass of ale and a sandwich, and -took a seat at a table by a window, from which he could see Grandison in -the distance. For a while he hoped that the seed he had sown might have -fallen on fertile ground, and that Grandison, relieved from the -restraining power of a master's eye, and finding himself in a free -country, might get up and walk away; but the hope was vain, for -Grandison remained faithfully at his post, awaiting his master's return. -He had seated himself on a broad flat stone, and, turning his eyes away -from the grand and awe-inspiring spectacle that lay close at hand, was -looking anxiously toward the inn where his master sat cursing his -ill-timed fidelity. - -By and by a girl came into the room to serve his order, and Dick very -naturally glanced at her; and as she was young and pretty and remained -in attendance, it was some minutes before he looked for Grandison. When -he did so his faithful servant had disappeared. - -To pay his reckoning and go away without the change was a matter quickly -accomplished. Retracing his footsteps toward the Falls, he saw, to his -great disgust, as he approached the spot where he had left Grandison, -the familiar form of his servant stretched out on the ground, his face -to the sun, his mouth open, sleeping the time away, oblivious alike to -the grandeur of the scenery, the thunderous roar of the cataract, or the -insidious voice of sentiment. - -"Grandison," soliloquized his master, as he stood gazing down at his -ebony encumbrance, "I do not deserve to be an American citizen; I ought -not to have the advantages I possess over you; and I certainly am not -worthy of Charity Lomax, if I am not smart enough to get rid of you. I -have an idea! You shall yet be free, and I will be the instrument of -your deliverance. Sleep on, faithful and affectionate servitor, and -dream of the blue grass and the bright skies of old Kentucky, for it is -only in your dreams that you will ever see them again!" - -Dick retraced his footsteps towards the inn. The young woman chanced to -look out of the window and saw the handsome young gentleman she had -waited on a few minutes before, standing in the road a short distance -away, apparently engaged in earnest conversation with a colored man -employed as hostler for the inn. She thought she saw something pass from -the white man to the other, but at that moment her duties called her -away from the window, and when she looked out again the young gentleman -had disappeared, and the hostler, with two other young men of the -neighborhood, one white and one colored, were walking rapidly towards -the Falls. - - - -IV - - -Dick made the journey homeward alone, and as rapidly as the conveyances -of the day would permit. As he drew near home his conduct in going back -without Grandison took on a more serious aspect than it had borne at any -previous time, and although he had prepared the colonel by a letter sent -several days ahead, there was still the prospect of a bad quarter of an -hour with him; not, indeed, that his father would upbraid him, but he -was likely to make searching inquiries. And notwithstanding the vein of -quiet recklessness that had carried Dick through his preposterous -scheme, he was a very poor liar, having rarely had occasion or -inclination to tell anything but the truth. Any reluctance to meet his -father was more than offset, however, by a stronger force drawing him -homeward, for Charity Lomax must long since have returned from her visit -to her aunt in Tennessee. - -Dick got off easier than he had expected. He told a straight story, and -a truthful one, so far as it went. - -The colonel raged at first, but rage soon subsided into anger, and anger -moderated into annoyance, and annoyance into a sort of garrulous sense -of injury. The colonel thought he had been hardly used; he had trusted -this negro, and he had broken faith. Yet, after all, he did not blame -Grandison so much as he did the abolitionists, who were undoubtedly at -the bottom of it. - -As for Charity Lomax, Dick told her, privately of course, that he had -run his father's man, Grandison, off to Canada, and left him there. - -"Oh, Dick," she had said with shuddering alarm, "what have you done? If -they knew it they 'd send you to the penitentiary, like they did that -Yankee." - -"But they don't know it," he had replied seriously; adding, with an -injured tone, "you don't seem to appreciate my heroism like you did that -of the Yankee; perhaps it 's because I was n't caught and sent to the -penitentiary. I thought you wanted me to do it." - -"Why, Dick Owens!" she exclaimed. "You know I never dreamed of any such -outrageous proceeding. - -"But I presume I 'll have to marry you," she concluded, after some -insistence on Dick's part, "if only to take care of you. You are too -reckless for anything; and a man who goes chasing all over the North, -being entertained by New York and Boston society and having negroes to -throw away, needs some one to look after him." - -"It 's a most remarkable thing," replied Dick fervently, "that your -views correspond exactly with my profoundest convictions. It proves -beyond question that we were made for one another." - - * * * * * - -They were married three weeks later. As each of them had just returned -from a journey, they spent their honeymoon at home. - -A week after the wedding they were seated, one afternoon, on the piazza -of the colonel's house, where Dick had taken his bride, when a negro -from the yard ran down the lane and threw open the big gate for the -colonel's buggy to enter. The colonel was not alone. Beside him, ragged -and travel-stained, bowed with weariness, and upon his face a haggard -look that told of hardship and privation, sat the lost Grandison. - -The colonel alighted at the steps. - -"Take the lines, Tom," he said to the man who had opened the gate, "and -drive round to the barn. Help Grandison down,--poor devil, he 's so -stiff he can hardly move!--and get a tub of water and wash him and rub -him down, and feed him, and give him a big drink of whiskey, and then -let him come round and see his young master and his new mistress." - -The colonel's face wore an expression compounded of joy and -indignation,--joy at the restoration of a valuable piece of property; -indignation for reasons he proceeded to state. - -"It 's astounding, the depths of depravity the human heart is capable -of! I was coming along the road three miles away, when I heard some one -call me from the roadside. I pulled up the mare, and who should come out -of the woods but Grandison. The poor nigger could hardly crawl along, -with the help of a broken limb. I was never more astonished in my life. -You could have knocked me down with a feather. He seemed pretty far -gone,--he could hardly talk above a whisper,--and I had to give him a -mouthful of whiskey to brace him up so he could tell his story. It 's -just as I thought from the beginning, Dick; Grandison had no notion of -running away; he knew when he was well off, and where his friends were. -All the persuasions of abolition liars and runaway niggers did not move -him. But the desperation of those fanatics knew no bounds; their guilty -consciences gave them no rest. They got the notion somehow that -Grandison belonged to a nigger-catcher, and had been brought North as a -spy to help capture ungrateful runaway servants. They actually kidnaped -him--just think of it!--and gagged him and bound him and threw him -rudely into a wagon, and carried him into the gloomy depths of a -Canadian forest, and locked him in a lonely hut, and fed him on bread -and water for three weeks. One of the scoundrels wanted to kill him, and -persuaded the others that it ought to be done; but they got to -quarreling about how they should do it, and before they had their minds -made up Grandison escaped, and, keeping his back steadily to the North -Star, made his way, after suffering incredible hardships, back to the -old plantation, back to his master, his friends, and his home. Why, it 's -as good as one of Scott's novels! Mr. Simms or some other one of our -Southern authors ought to write it up." - -"Don't you think, sir," suggested Dick, who had calmly smoked his cigar -throughout the colonel's animated recital, "that that kidnaping yarn -sounds a little improbable? Is n't there some more likely explanation?" - -"Nonsense, Dick; it 's the gospel truth! Those infernal abolitionists -are capable of anything--everything! Just think of their locking the -poor, faithful nigger up, beating him, kicking him, depriving him of his -liberty, keeping him on bread and water for three long, lonesome weeks, -and he all the time pining for the old plantation!" - -There were almost tears in the colonel's eyes at the picture of -Grandison's sufferings that he conjured up. Dick still professed to be -slightly skeptical, and met Charity's severely questioning eye with -bland unconsciousness. - -The colonel killed the fatted calf for Grandison, and for two or three -weeks the returned wanderer's life was a slave's dream of pleasure. His -fame spread throughout the county, and the colonel gave him a permanent -place among the house servants, where he could always have him -conveniently at hand to relate his adventures to admiring visitors. - - * * * * * - -About three weeks after Grandison's return the colonel's faith in sable -humanity was rudely shaken, and its foundations almost broken up. He -came near losing his belief in the fidelity of the negro to his -master,--the servile virtue most highly prized and most sedulously -cultivated by the colonel and his kind. One Monday morning Grandison was -missing. And not only Grandison, but his wife, Betty the maid; his -mother, aunt Eunice; his father, uncle Ike; his brothers, Tom and John, -and his little sister Elsie, were likewise absent from the plantation; -and a hurried search and inquiry in the neighborhood resulted in no -information as to their whereabouts. So much valuable property could not -be lost without an effort to recover it, and the wholesale nature of the -transaction carried consternation to the hearts of those whose ledgers -were chiefly bound in black. Extremely energetic measures were taken by -the colonel and his friends. The fugitives were traced, and followed -from point to point, on their northward run through Ohio. Several times -the hunters were close upon their heels, but the magnitude of the -escaping party begot unusual vigilance on the part of those who -sympathized with the fugitives, and strangely enough, the underground -railroad seemed to have had its tracks cleared and signals set for this -particular train. Once, twice, the colonel thought he had them, but -they slipped through his fingers. - -One last glimpse he caught of his vanishing property, as he stood, -accompanied by a United States marshal, on a wharf at a port on the -south shore of Lake Erie. On the stern of a small steamboat which was -receding rapidly from the wharf, with her nose pointing toward Canada, -there stood a group of familiar dark faces, and the look they cast -backward was not one of longing for the fleshpots of Egypt. The colonel -saw Grandison point him out to one of the crew of the vessel, who waved -his hand derisively toward the colonel. The latter shook his fist -impotently--and the incident was closed. - - - - -Uncle Wellington's Wives - - - -I - - -Uncle Wellington Braboy was so deeply absorbed in thought as he walked -slowly homeward from the weekly meeting of the Union League, that he let -his pipe go out, a fact of which he remained oblivious until he had -reached the little frame house in the suburbs of Patesville, where he -lived with aunt Milly, his wife. On this particular occasion the club -had been addressed by a visiting brother from the North, Professor -Patterson, a tall, well-formed mulatto, who wore a perfectly fitting -suit of broadcloth, a shiny silk hat, and linen of dazzling -whiteness,--in short, a gentleman of such distinguished appearance that -the doors and windows of the offices and stores on Front Street were -filled with curious observers as he passed through that thoroughfare in -the early part of the day. This polished stranger was a traveling -organizer of Masonic lodges, but he also claimed to be a high officer in -the Union League, and had been invited to lecture before the local -chapter of that organization at Patesville. - -The lecture had been largely attended, and uncle* Wellington Braboy had -occupied a seat just in front of the platform. The subject of the -lecture was "The Mental, Moral, Physical, Political, Social, and -Financial Improvement of the Negro Race in America," a theme much dwelt -upon, with slight variations, by colored orators. For to this struggling -people, then as now, the problem of their uncertain present and their -doubtful future was the chief concern of life. The period was the -hopeful one. The Federal Government retained some vestige of authority -in the South, and the newly emancipated race cherished the delusion that -under the Constitution, that enduring rock on which our liberties are -founded, and under the equal laws it purported to guarantee, they would -enter upon the era of freedom and opportunity which their Northern -friends had inaugurated with such solemn sanctions. The speaker pictured -in eloquent language the state of ideal equality and happiness enjoyed -by colored people at the North: how they sent their children to school -with the white children; how they sat by white people in the churches -and theatres, ate with them in the public restaurants, and buried their -dead in the same cemeteries. The professor waxed eloquent with the -development of his theme, and, as a finishing touch to an alluring -picture, assured the excited audience that the intermarriage of the -races was common, and that he himself had espoused a white woman. - -Uncle Wellington Braboy was a deeply interested listener. He had heard -something of these facts before, but his information had always come in -such vague and questionable shape that he had paid little attention to -it. He knew that the Yankees had freed the slaves, and that runaway -negroes had always gone to the North to seek liberty; any such equality, -however, as the visiting brother had depicted, was more than uncle -Wellington had ever conceived as actually existing anywhere in the -world. At first he felt inclined to doubt the truth of the speaker's -statements; but the cut of his clothes, the eloquence of his language, -and the flowing length of his whiskers, were so far superior to anything -uncle Wellington had ever met among the colored people of his native -State, that he felt irresistibly impelled to the conviction that nothing -less than the advantages claimed for the North by the visiting brother -could have produced such an exquisite flower of civilization. Any -lingering doubts uncle Wellington may have felt were entirely dispelled -by the courtly bow and cordial grasp of the hand with which the visiting -brother acknowledged the congratulations showered upon him by the -audience at the close of his address. - -The more uncle Wellington's mind dwelt upon the professor's speech, the -more attractive seemed the picture of Northern life presented. Uncle -Wellington possessed in large measure the imaginative faculty so freely -bestowed by nature upon the race from which the darker half of his blood -was drawn. He had indulged in occasional day-dreams of an ideal state of -social equality, but his wildest flights of fancy had never located it -nearer than heaven, and he had felt some misgivings about its practical -working even there. Its desirability he had never doubted, and the -speech of the evening before had given a local habitation and a name to -the forms his imagination had bodied forth. Giving full rein to his -fancy, he saw in the North a land flowing with milk and honey,--a land -peopled by noble men and beautiful women, among whom colored men and -women moved with the ease and grace of acknowledged right. Then he -placed himself in the foreground of the picture. What a fine figure he -would have made in the world if he had been born at the free North! He -imagined himself dressed like the professor, and passing the -contribution-box in a white church; and most pleasant of his dreams, and -the hardest to realize as possible, was that of the gracious white lady -he might have called wife. Uncle Wellington was a mulatto, and his -features were those of his white father, though tinged with the hue of -his mother's race; and as he lifted the kerosene lamp at evening, and -took a long look at his image in the little mirror over the mantelpiece, -he said to himself that he was a very good-looking man, and could have -adorned a much higher sphere in life than that in which the accident of -birth had placed him. He fell asleep and dreamed that he lived in a -two-story brick house, with a spacious flower garden in front, the whole -inclosed by a high iron fence; that he kept a carriage and servants, and -never did a stroke of work. This was the highest style of living in -Patesville, and he could conceive of nothing finer. - -Uncle Wellington slept later than usual the next morning, and the -sunlight was pouring in at the open window of the bedroom, when his -dreams were interrupted by the voice of his wife, in tones meant to be -harsh, but which no ordinary degree of passion could rob of their native -unctuousness. - -"Git up f'm dere, you lazy, good-fuh-nuffin' nigger! Is you gwine ter -sleep all de mawnin'? I 's ti'ed er dis yer runnin' 'roun' all night an' -den sleepin' all day. You won't git dat tater patch hoed ovuh ter-day -'less'n you git up f'm dere an' git at it." - -Uncle Wellington rolled over, yawned cavernously, stretched himself, and -with a muttered protest got out of bed and put on his clothes. Aunt -Milly had prepared a smoking breakfast of hominy and fried bacon, the -odor of which was very grateful to his nostrils. - -"Is breakfus' done ready?" he inquired, tentatively, as he came into the -kitchen and glanced at the table. - -"No, it ain't ready, an' 't ain't gwine ter be ready 'tel you tote dat -wood an' water in," replied aunt Milly severely, as she poured two -teacups of boiling water on two tablespoonfuls of ground coffee. - -Uncle Wellington went down to the spring and got a pail of water, after -which he brought in some oak logs for the fire place and some lightwood -for kindling. Then he drew a chair towards the table and started to sit -down. - -"Wonduh what 's de matter wid you dis mawnin' anyhow," remarked aunt -Milly. "You must 'a' be'n up ter some devilment las' night, fer yo' -recommemb'ance is so po' dat you fus' fergit ter git up, an' den fergit -ter wash yo' face an' hands fo' you set down ter de table. I don' 'low -nobody ter eat at my table dat a-way." - -"I don' see no use 'n washin' 'em so much," replied Wellington wearily. -"Dey gits dirty ag'in right off, an' den you got ter wash 'em ovuh -ag'in; it 's jes' pilin' up wuk what don' fetch in nuffin'. De dirt don' -show nohow, 'n' I don' see no advantage in bein' black, ef you got to -keep on washin' yo' face 'n' han's jes' lack w'ite folks." He -nevertheless performed his ablutions in a perfunctory way, and resumed -his seat at the breakfast-table. - -"Ole 'oman," he asked, after the edge of his appetite had been taken -off, "how would you lack ter live at de Norf?" - -"I dunno nuffin' 'bout de Norf," replied aunt Milly. "It 's hard 'nuff -ter git erlong heah, whar we knows all erbout it." - -"De brother what 'dressed de meetin' las' night say dat de wages at de -Norf is twicet ez big ez dey is heah." - -"You could make a sight mo' wages heah ef you 'd 'ten' ter yo' wuk -better," replied aunt Milly. - -Uncle Wellington ignored this personality, and continued, "An' he say de -cullud folks got all de privileges er de w'ite folks,--dat dey chillen -goes ter school tergedder, dat dey sets on same seats in chu'ch, an' -sarves on jury, 'n' rides on de kyars an' steamboats wid de w'ite folks, -an' eats at de fus' table." - -"Dat 'u'd suit you," chuckled aunt Milly, "an' you 'd stay dere fer de -secon' table, too. How dis man know 'bout all dis yer foolis'ness?" she -asked incredulously. - -"He come f'm de Norf," said uncle Wellington, "an' he 'speunced it all -hisse'f." - -"Well, he can't make me b'lieve it," she rejoined, with a shake of her -head. - -"An' you would n' lack ter go up dere an' 'joy all dese privileges?" -asked uncle Wellington, with some degree of earnestness. - -The old woman laughed until her sides shook. "Who gwine ter take me up -dere?" she inquired. - -"You got de money yo'se'f." - -"I ain' got no money fer ter was'e," she replied shortly, becoming -serious at once; and with that the subject was dropped. - -Uncle Wellington pulled a hoe from under the house, and took his way -wearily to the potato patch. He did not feel like working, but aunt -Milly was the undisputed head of the establishment, and he did not dare -to openly neglect his work. - -In fact, he regarded work at any time as a disagreeable necessity to be -avoided as much as possible. - -His wife was cast in a different mould. Externally she would have -impressed the casual observer as a neat, well-preserved, and -good-looking black woman, of middle age, every curve of whose ample -figure--and her figure was all curves--was suggestive of repose. So far -from being indolent, or even deliberate in her movements, she was the -most active and energetic woman in the town. She went through the -physical exercises of a prayer-meeting with astonishing vigor. It was -exhilarating to see her wash a shirt, and a study to watch her do it up. -A quick jerk shook out the dampened garment; one pass of her ample palm -spread it over the ironing-board, and a few well-directed strokes with -the iron accomplished what would have occupied the ordinary laundress -for half an hour. - -To this uncommon, and in uncle Wellington's opinion unnecessary and -unnatural activity, his own habits were a steady protest. If aunt Milly -had been willing to support him in idleness, he would have acquiesced -without a murmur in her habits of industry. This she would not do, and, -moreover, insisted on his working at least half the time. If she had -invested the proceeds of her labor in rich food and fine clothing, he -might have endured it better; but to her passion for work was added a -most detestable thrift. She absolutely refused to pay for Wellington's -clothes, and required him to furnish a certain proportion of the family -supplies. Her savings were carefully put by, and with them she had -bought and paid for the modest cottage which she and her husband -occupied. Under her careful hand it was always neat and clean; in summer -the little yard was gay with bright-colored flowers, and woe to the -heedless pickaninny who should stray into her yard and pluck a rose or a -verbena! In a stout oaken chest under her bed she kept a capacious -stocking, into which flowed a steady stream of fractional currency. She -carried the key to this chest in her pocket, a proceeding regarded by -uncle Wellington with no little disfavor. He was of the opinion--an -opinion he would not have dared to assert in her presence--that his -wife's earnings were his own property; and he looked upon this stocking -as a drunkard's wife might regard the saloon which absorbed her -husband's wages. - -Uncle Wellington hurried over the potato patch on the morning of the -conversation above recorded, and as soon as he saw aunt Milly go away -with a basket of clothes on her head, returned to the house, put on his -coat, and went uptown. - -He directed his steps to a small frame building fronting on the main -street of the village, at a point where the street was intersected by -one of the several creeks meandering through the town, cooling the air, -providing numerous swimming-holes for the amphibious small boy, and -furnishing water-power for grist-mills and saw-mills. The rear of the -building rested on long brick pillars, built up from the bottom of the -steep bank of the creek, while the front was level with the street. This -was the office of Mr. Matthew Wright, the sole representative of the -colored race at the bar of Chinquapin County. Mr. Wright came of an "old -issue" free colored family, in which, though the negro blood was present -in an attenuated strain, a line of free ancestry could be traced beyond -the Revolutionary War. He had enjoyed exceptional opportunities, and -enjoyed the distinction of being the first, and for a long time the only -colored lawyer in North Carolina. His services were frequently called -into requisition by impecunious people of his own race; when they had -money they went to white lawyers, who, they shrewdly conjectured, would -have more influence with judge or jury than a colored lawyer, however -able. - -Uncle Wellington found Mr. Wright in his office. Having inquired after -the health of the lawyer's family and all his relations in detail, uncle -Wellington asked for a professional opinion. - -"Mistah Wright, ef a man's wife got money, whose money is dat befo' de -law--his'n er her'n?" - -The lawyer put on his professional air, and replied:---- - -"Under the common law, which in default of special legislative enactment -is the law of North Carolina, the personal property of the wife belongs -to her husband." - -"But dat don' jes' tech de p'int, suh. I wuz axin' 'bout money." - -"You see, uncle Wellington, your education has not rendered you familiar -with legal phraseology. The term 'personal property' or 'estate' -embraces, according to Blackstone, all property other than land, and -therefore includes money. Any money a man's wife has is his, -constructively, and will be recognized as his actually, as soon as he -can secure possession of it." - -"Dat is ter say, suh--my eddication don' quite 'low me ter understan' -dat--dat is ter say"---- - -"That is to say, it 's yours when you get it. It is n't yours so that -the law will help you get it; but on the other hand, when you once lay -your hands on it, it is yours so that the law won't take it away from -you." - -Uncle Wellington nodded to express his full comprehension of the law as -expounded by Mr. Wright, but scratched his head in a way that expressed -some disappointment. The law seemed to wobble. Instead of enabling him -to stand up fearlessly and demand his own, it threw him back upon his -own efforts; and the prospect of his being able to overpower or outwit -aunt Milly by any ordinary means was very poor. - -He did not leave the office, but hung around awhile as though there were -something further he wished to speak about. Finally, after some -discursive remarks about the crops and politics, he asked, in an -offhand, disinterested manner, as though the thought had just occurred -to him:---- - -"Mistah Wright, w'ile's we 're talkin' 'bout law matters, what do it -cos' ter git a defoce?" - -"That depends upon circumstances. It is n't altogether a matter of -expense. Have you and aunt Milly been having trouble?" - -"Oh no, suh; I was jes' a-wond'rin'." - -"You see," continued the lawyer, who was fond of talking, and had -nothing else to do for the moment, "a divorce is not an easy thing to -get in this State under any circumstances. It used to be the law that -divorce could be granted only by special act of the legislature; and it -is but recently that the subject has been relegated to the jurisdiction -of the courts." - -Uncle Wellington understood a part of this, but the answer had not been -exactly to the point in his mind. - -"S'pos'n', den, jes' fer de argyment, me an' my ole 'oman sh'd fall out -en wanter separate, how could I git a defoce?" - -"That would depend on what you quarreled about. It 's pretty hard work -to answer general questions in a particular way. If you merely wished to -separate, it would n't be necessary to get a divorce; but if you should -want to marry again, you would have to be divorced, or else you would be -guilty of bigamy, and could be sent to the penitentiary. But, by the -way, uncle Wellington, when were you married?" - -"I got married 'fo' de wah, when I was livin' down on Rockfish Creek." - -"When you were in slavery?" - -"Yas, suh." - -"Did you have your marriage registered after the surrender?" - -"No, suh; never knowed nuffin' 'bout dat." - -After the war, in North Carolina and other States, the freed people who -had sustained to each other the relation of husband and wife as it -existed among slaves, were required by law to register their consent to -continue in the marriage relation. By this simple expedient their former -marriages of convenience received the sanction of law, and their -children the seal of legitimacy. In many cases, however, where the -parties lived in districts remote from the larger towns, the ceremony -was neglected, or never heard of by the freedmen. - -"Well," said the lawyer, "if that is the case, and you and aunt Milly -should disagree, it would n't be necessary for you to get a divorce, -even if you should want to marry again. You were never legally married." - -"So Milly ain't my lawful wife, den?" - -"She may be your wife in one sense of the word, but not in such a sense -as to render you liable to punishment for bigamy if you should marry -another woman. But I hope you will never want to do anything of the -kind, for you have a very good wife now." - -Uncle Wellington went away thoughtfully, but with a feeling of -unaccustomed lightness and freedom. He had not felt so free since the -memorable day when he had first heard of the Emancipation Proclamation. -On leaving the lawyer's office, he called at the workshop of one of his -friends, Peter Williams, a shoemaker by trade, who had a brother living -in Ohio. - -"Is you hearn f'm Sam lately?" uncle Wellington inquired, after the -conversation had drifted through the usual generalities. - -"His mammy got er letter f'm 'im las' week; he 's livin' in de town er -Groveland now." - -"How 's he gittin' on?" - -"He says he gittin' on monst'us well. He 'low ez how he make five -dollars a day w'ite-washin', an' have all he kin do." - -The shoemaker related various details of his brother's prosperity, and -uncle Wellington returned home in a very thoughtful mood, revolving in -his mind a plan of future action. This plan had been vaguely assuming -form ever since the professor's lecture, and the events of the morning -had brought out the detail in bold relief. - -Two days after the conversation with the shoemaker, aunt Milly went, in -the afternoon, to visit a sister of hers who lived several miles out in -the country. During her absence, which lasted until nightfall, uncle -Wellington went uptown and purchased a cheap oilcloth valise from a -shrewd son of Israel, who had penetrated to this locality with a stock -of notions and cheap clothing. Uncle Wellington had his purchase done up -in brown paper, and took the parcel under his arm. Arrived at home he -unwrapped the valise, and thrust into its capacious jaws his best suit -of clothes, some underwear, and a few other small articles for personal -use and adornment. Then he carried the valise out into the yard, and, -first looking cautiously around to see if there was any one in sight, -concealed it in a clump of bushes in a corner of the yard. - -It may be inferred from this proceeding that uncle Wellington was -preparing for a step of some consequence. In fact, he had fully made up -his mind to go to the North; but he still lacked the most important -requisite for traveling with comfort, namely, the money to pay his -expenses. The idea of tramping the distance which separated him from the -promised land of liberty and equality had never occurred to him. When a -slave, he had several times been importuned by fellow servants to join -them in the attempt to escape from bondage, but he had never wanted his -freedom badly enough to walk a thousand miles for it; if he could have -gone to Canada by stage-coach, or by rail, or on horseback, with stops -for regular meals, he would probably have undertaken the trip. The funds -he now needed for his journey were in aunt Milly's chest. He had thought -a great deal about his right to this money. It was his wife's savings, -and he had never dared to dispute, openly, her right to exercise -exclusive control over what she earned; but the lawyer had assured him -of his right to the money, of which he was already constructively in -possession, and he had therefore determined to possess himself actually -of the coveted stocking. It was impracticable for him to get the key of -the chest. Aunt Milly kept it in her pocket by day and under her pillow -at night. She was a light sleeper, and, if not awakened by the -abstraction of the key, would certainly have been disturbed by the -unlocking of the chest. But one alternative remained, and that was to -break open the chest in her absence. - -There was a revival in progress at the colored Methodist church. Aunt -Milly was as energetic in her religion as in other respects, and had not -missed a single one of the meetings. She returned at nightfall from her -visit to the country and prepared a frugal supper. Uncle Wellington did -not eat as heartily as usual. Aunt Milly perceived his want of appetite, -and spoke of it. He explained it by saying that he did not feel very -well. - -"Is you gwine ter chu'ch ter-night?" inquired his wife. - -"I reckon I 'll stay home an' go ter bed," he replied. "I ain't be'n -feelin' well dis evenin', an' I 'spec' I better git a good night's -res'." - -"Well, you kin stay ef you mineter. Good preachin' 'u'd make you feel -better, but ef you ain't gwine, don' fergit ter tote in some wood an' -lighterd 'fo' you go ter bed. De moon is shinin' bright, an' you can't -have no 'scuse 'bout not bein' able ter see." - -Uncle Wellington followed her out to the gate, and watched her receding -form until it disappeared in the distance. Then he re-entered the house -with a quick step, and taking a hatchet from a corner of the room, drew -the chest from under the bed. As he applied the hatchet to the -fastenings, a thought struck him, and by the flickering light of the -pine-knot blazing on the hearth, a look of hesitation might have been -seen to take the place of the determined expression his face had worn up -to that time. He had argued himself into the belief that his present -action was lawful and justifiable. Though this conviction had not -prevented him from trembling in every limb, as though he were committing -a mere vulgar theft, it had still nerved him to the deed. Now even his -moral courage began to weaken. The lawyer had told him that his wife's -property was his own; in taking it he was therefore only exercising his -lawful right. But at the point of breaking open the chest, it occurred -to him that he was taking this money in order to get away from aunt -Milly, and that he justified his desertion of her by the lawyer's -opinion that she was not his lawful wife. If she was not his wife, then -he had no right to take the money; if she was his wife, he had no right -to desert her, and would certainly have no right to marry another woman. -His scheme was about to go to shipwreck on this rock, when another idea -occurred to him. - -"De lawyer say dat in one sense er de word de ole 'oman is my wife, an' -in anudder sense er de word she ain't my wife. Ef I goes ter de Norf an' -marry a w'ite 'oman, I ain't commit no brigamy, 'caze in dat sense er de -word she ain't my wife; but ef I takes dis money, I ain't stealin' it, -'caze in dat sense er de word she is my wife. Dat 'splains all de -trouble away." - -Having reached this ingenious conclusion, uncle Wellington applied the -hatchet vigorously, soon loosened the fastenings of the chest, and with -trembling hands extracted from its depths a capacious blue cotton -stocking. He emptied the stocking on the table. His first impulse was to -take the whole, but again there arose in his mind a doubt--a very -obtrusive, unreasonable doubt, but a doubt, nevertheless--of the -absolute rectitude of his conduct; and after a moment's hesitation he -hurriedly counted the money--it was in bills of small denominations--and -found it to be about two hundred and fifty dollars. He then divided it -into two piles of one hundred and twenty-five dollars each. He put one -pile into his pocket, returned the remainder to the stocking, and -replaced it where he had found it. He then closed the chest and shoved -it under the bed. After having arranged the fire so that it could safely -be left burning, he took a last look around the room, and went out into -the moonlight, locking the door behind him, and hanging the key on a -nail in the wall, where his wife would be likely to look for it. He then -secured his valise from behind the bushes, and left the yard. As he -passed by the wood-pile, he said to himself:---- - -"Well, I declar' ef I ain't done fergot ter tote in dat lighterd; I -reckon de ole 'oman 'll ha' ter fetch it in herse'f dis time." - -He hastened through the quiet streets, avoiding the few people who were -abroad at that hour, and soon reached the railroad station, from which a -North-bound train left at nine o'clock. He went around to the dark side -of the train, and climbed into a second-class car, where he shrank into -the darkest corner and turned his face away from the dim light of the -single dirty lamp. There were no passengers in the car except one or two -sleepy negroes, who had got on at some other station, and a white man -who had gone into the car to smoke, accompanied by a gigantic -bloodhound. - -Finally the train crept out of the station. From the window uncle -Wellington looked out upon the familiar cabins and turpentine stills, -the new barrel factory, the brickyard where he had once worked for some -time; and as the train rattled through the outskirts of the town, he saw -gleaming in the moonlight the white headstones of the colored cemetery -where his only daughter had been buried several years before. - -Presently the conductor came around. Uncle Wellington had not bought a -ticket, and the conductor collected a cash fare. He was not acquainted -with uncle Wellington, but had just had a drink at the saloon near the -depot, and felt at peace with all mankind. - -"Where are you going, uncle?" he inquired carelessly. - -Uncle Wellington's face assumed the ashen hue which does duty for -pallor in dusky countenances, and his knees began to tremble. -Controlling his voice as well as he could, he replied that he was going -up to Jonesboro, the terminus of the railroad, to work for a gentleman -at that place. He felt immensely relieved when the conductor pocketed -the fare, picked up his lantern, and moved away. It was very -unphilosophical and very absurd that a man who was only doing right -should feel like a thief, shrink from the sight of other people, and lie -instinctively. Fine distinctions were not in uncle Wellington's line, -but he was struck by the unreasonableness of his feelings, and still -more by the discomfort they caused him. By and by, however, the motion -of the train made him drowsy; his thoughts all ran together in -confusion; and he fell asleep with his head on his valise, and one hand -in his pocket, clasped tightly around the roll of money. - - - -II - - -The train from Pittsburg drew into the Union Depot at Groveland, Ohio, -one morning in the spring of 187-, with bell ringing and engine puffing; -and from a smoking-car emerged the form of uncle Wellington Braboy, a -little dusty and travel-stained, and with a sleepy look about his eyes. -He mingled in the crowd, and, valise in hand, moved toward the main exit -from the depot. There were several tracks to be crossed, and more than -once a watchman snatched him out of the way of a baggage-truck, or a -train backing into the depot. He at length reached the door, beyond -which, and as near as the regulations would permit, stood a number of -hackmen, vociferously soliciting patronage. One of them, a colored man, -soon secured several passengers. As he closed the door after the last -one he turned to uncle Wellington, who stood near him on the sidewalk, -looking about irresolutely. - -"Is you goin' uptown?" asked the hackman, as he prepared to mount the -box. - -"Yas, suh." - -"I 'll take you up fo' a quahtah, ef you want ter git up here an' ride -on de box wid me." - -Uncle Wellington accepted the offer and mounted the box. The hackman -whipped up his horses, the carriage climbed the steep hill leading up to -the town, and the passengers inside were soon deposited at their hotels. - -"Whereabouts do you want to go?" asked the hackman of uncle Wellington, -when the carriage was emptied of its last passengers. - -"I want ter go ter Brer Sam Williams's," said Wellington. - -"What 's his street an' number?" - -Uncle Wellington did not know the street and number, and the hackman had -to explain to him the mystery of numbered houses, to which he was a -total stranger. - -"Where is he from?" asked the hackman, "and what is his business?" - -"He is f'm Norf Ca'lina," replied uncle Wellington, "an' makes his -livin' w'itewashin'." - -"I reckon I knows de man," said the hackman. "I 'spec' he 's changed his -name. De man I knows is name' Johnson. He b'longs ter my chu'ch. I 'm -gwine out dat way ter git a passenger fer de ten o'clock train, an I 'll -take you by dere." - -They followed one of the least handsome streets of the city for more -than a mile, turned into a cross street, and drew up before a small -frame house, from the front of which a sign, painted in white upon a -black background, announced to the reading public, in letters inclined -to each other at various angles, that whitewashing and kalsomining were -"dun" there. A knock at the door brought out a slatternly looking -colored woman. She had evidently been disturbed at her toilet, for she -held a comb in one hand, and the hair on one side of her head stood out -loosely, while on the other side it was braided close to her head. She -called her husband, who proved to be the Patesville shoemaker's brother. -The hackman introduced the traveler, whose name he had learned on the -way out, collected his quarter, and drove away. - -Mr. Johnson, the shoemaker's brother, welcomed uncle Wellington to -Groveland, and listened with eager delight to the news of the old town, -from which he himself had run away many years before, and followed the -North Star to Groveland. He had changed his name from "Williams" to -"Johnson," on account of the Fugitive Slave Law, which, at the time of -his escape from bondage, had rendered it advisable for runaway slaves to -court obscurity. After the war he had retained the adopted name. Mrs. -Johnson prepared breakfast for her guest, who ate it with an appetite -sharpened by his journey. After breakfast he went to bed, and slept -until late in the afternoon. - -After supper Mr. Johnson took uncle Wellington to visit some of the -neighbors who had come from North Carolina before the war. They all -expressed much pleasure at meeting "Mr. Braboy," a title which at first -sounded a little odd to uncle Wellington. At home he had been -"Wellin'ton," "Brer Wellin'ton," or "uncle Wellin'ton;" it was a novel -experience to be called "Mister," and he set it down, with secret -satisfaction, as one of the first fruits of Northern liberty. - -"Would you lack ter look 'roun' de town a little?" asked Mr. Johnson at -breakfast next morning. "I ain' got no job dis mawnin', an' I kin show -you some er de sights." - -Uncle Wellington acquiesced in this arrangement, and they walked up to -the corner to the street-car line. In a few moments a car passed. Mr. -Johnson jumped on the moving car, and uncle Wellington followed his -example, at the risk of life or limb, as it was his first experience of -street cars. - -There was only one vacant seat in the car and that was between two white -women in the forward end. Mr. Johnson motioned to the seat, but -Wellington shrank from walking between those two rows of white people, -to say nothing of sitting between the two women, so he remained standing -in the rear part of the car. A moment later, as the car rounded a short -curve, he was pitched sidewise into the lap of a stout woman -magnificently attired in a ruffled blue calico gown. The lady colored -up, and uncle Wellington, as he struggled to his feet amid the laughter -of the passengers, was absolutely helpless with embarrassment, until the -conductor came up behind him and pushed him toward the vacant place. - -"Sit down, will you," he said; and before uncle Wellington could collect -himself, he was seated between the two white women. Everybody in the car -seemed to be looking at him. But he came to the conclusion, after he had -pulled himself together and reflected a few moments, that he would find -this method of locomotion pleasanter when he got used to it, and then -he could score one more glorious privilege gained by his change of -residence. - -They got off at the public square, in the heart of the city, where there -were flowers and statues, and fountains playing. Mr. Johnson pointed out -the court-house, the post-office, the jail, and other public buildings -fronting on the square. They visited the market near by, and from an -elevated point, looked down upon the extensive lumber yards and -factories that were the chief sources of the city's prosperity. Beyond -these they could see the fleet of ships that lined the coal and iron ore -docks of the harbor. Mr. Johnson, who was quite a fluent talker, -enlarged upon the wealth and prosperity of the city; and Wellington, who -had never before been in a town of more than three thousand inhabitants, -manifested sufficient interest and wonder to satisfy the most exacting -_cicerone_. They called at the office of a colored lawyer and member of -the legislature, formerly from North Carolina, who, scenting a new -constituent and a possible client, greeted the stranger warmly, and in -flowing speech pointed out the superior advantages of life at the North, -citing himself as an illustration of the possibilities of life in a -country really free. As they wended their way homeward to dinner uncle -Wellington, with quickened pulse and rising hopes, felt that this was -indeed the promised land, and that it must be flowing with milk and -honey. - -Uncle Wellington remained at the residence of Mr. Johnson for several -weeks before making any effort to find employment. He spent this period -in looking about the city. The most commonplace things possessed for him -the charm of novelty, and he had come prepared to admire. Shortly after -his arrival, he had offered to pay for his board, intimating at the same -time that he had plenty of money. Mr. Johnson declined to accept -anything from him for board, and expressed himself as being only too -proud to have Mr. Braboy remain in the house on the footing of an -honored guest, until he had settled himself. He lightened in some -degree, however, the burden of obligation under which a prolonged stay -on these terms would have placed his guest, by soliciting from the -latter occasional small loans, until uncle Wellington's roll of money -began to lose its plumpness, and with an empty pocket staring him in -the face, he felt the necessity of finding something to do. - -During his residence in the city he had met several times his first -acquaintance, Mr. Peterson, the hackman, who from time to time inquired -how he was getting along. On one of these occasions Wellington mentioned -his willingness to accept employment. As good luck would have it, Mr. -Peterson knew of a vacant situation. He had formerly been coachman for a -wealthy gentleman residing on Oakwood Avenue, but had resigned the -situation to go into business for himself. His place had been filled by -an Irishman, who had just been discharged for drunkenness, and the -gentleman that very day had sent word to Mr. Peterson, asking him if he -could recommend a competent and trustworthy coachman. - -"Does you know anything erbout hosses?" asked Mr. Peterson. - -"Yas, indeed, I does," said Wellington. "I wuz raise' 'mongs' hosses." - -"I tol' my ole boss I 'd look out fer a man, an' ef you reckon you kin -fill de 'quirements er de situation, I 'll take yo' roun' dere -ter-morrer mornin'. You wants ter put on yo' bes' clothes an' slick up, -fer dey 're partic'lar people. Ef you git de place I 'll expec' you ter -pay me fer de time I lose in 'tendin' ter yo' business, fer time is -money in dis country, an' folks don't do much fer nuthin'." - -Next morning Wellington blacked his shoes carefully, put on a clean -collar, and with the aid of Mrs. Johnson tied his cravat in a jaunty bow -which gave him quite a sprightly air and a much younger look than his -years warranted. Mr. Peterson called for him at eight o'clock. After -traversing several cross streets they turned into Oakwood Avenue and -walked along the finest part of it for about half a mile. The handsome -houses of this famous avenue, the stately trees, the wide-spreading -lawns, dotted with flower beds, fountains and statuary, made up a -picture so far surpassing anything in Wellington's experience as to fill -him with an almost oppressive sense of its beauty. - -"Hit looks lack hebben," he said softly. - -"It 's a pootty fine street," rejoined his companion, with a judicial -air, "but I don't like dem big lawns. It 's too much trouble ter keep -de grass down. One er dem lawns is big enough to pasture a couple er -cows." - -They went down a street running at right angles to the avenue, and -turned into the rear of the corner lot. A large building of pressed -brick, trimmed with stone, loomed up before them. - -"Do de gemman lib in dis house?" asked Wellington, gazing with awe at -the front of the building. - -"No, dat 's de barn," said Mr. Peterson with good-natured contempt; and -leading the way past a clump of shrubbery to the dwelling-house, he went -up the back steps and rang the door-bell. - -The ring was answered by a buxom Irishwoman, of a natural freshness of -complexion deepened to a fiery red by the heat of a kitchen range. -Wellington thought he had seen her before, but his mind had received so -many new impressions lately that it was a minute or two before he -recognized in her the lady whose lap he had involuntarily occupied for a -moment on his first day in Groveland. - -"Faith," she exclaimed as she admitted them, "an' it 's mighty glad I am -to see ye ag'in, Misther Payterson! An' how hev ye be'n, Misther -Payterson, sence I see ye lahst?" - -"Middlin' well, Mis' Flannigan, middlin' well, 'ceptin' a tech er de -rheumatiz. S'pose you be'n doin' well as usual?" - -"Oh yis, as well as a dacent woman could do wid a drunken baste about -the place like the lahst coachman. O Misther Payterson, it would make -yer heart bleed to see the way the spalpeen cut up a-Saturday! But -Misther Todd discharged 'im the same avenin', widout a characther, bad -'cess to 'im, an' we 've had no coachman sence at all, at all. An' it 's -sorry I am"---- - -The lady's flow of eloquence was interrupted at this point by the -appearance of Mr. Todd himself, who had been informed of the men's -arrival. He asked some questions in regard to Wellington's -qualifications and former experience, and in view of his recent arrival -in the city was willing to accept Mr. Peterson's recommendation instead -of a reference. He said a few words about the nature of the work, and -stated his willingness to pay Wellington the wages formerly allowed Mr. -Peterson, thirty dollars a month and board and lodging. - -This handsome offer was eagerly accepted, and it was agreed that -Wellington's term of service should begin immediately. Mr. Peterson, -being familiar with the work, and financially interested, conducted the -new coachman through the stables and showed him what he would have to -do. The silver-mounted harness, the variety of carriages, the names of -which he learned for the first time, the arrangements for feeding and -watering the horses,--these appointments of a rich man's stable -impressed Wellington very much, and he wondered that so much luxury -should be wasted on mere horses. The room assigned to him, in the second -story of the barn, was a finer apartment than he had ever slept in; and -the salary attached to the situation was greater than the combined -monthly earnings of himself and aunt Milly in their Southern home. -Surely, he thought, his lines had fallen in pleasant places. - -Under the stimulus of new surroundings Wellington applied himself -diligently to work, and, with the occasional advice of Mr. Peterson, -soon mastered the details of his employment. He found the female -servants, with whom he took his meals, very amiable ladies. The cook, -Mrs. Katie Flannigan, was a widow. Her husband, a sailor, had been lost -at sea. She was a woman of many words, and when she was not lamenting -the late Flannigan's loss,--according to her story he had been a model -of all the virtues,--she would turn the batteries of her tongue against -the former coachman. This gentleman, as Wellington gathered from -frequent remarks dropped by Mrs. Flannigan, had paid her attentions -clearly susceptible of a serious construction. These attentions had not -borne their legitimate fruit, and she was still a widow -unconsoled,--hence Mrs. Flannigan's tears. The housemaid was a plump, -good-natured German girl, with a pronounced German accent. The presence -on washdays of a Bohemian laundress, of recent importation, added -another to the variety of ways in which the English tongue was mutilated -in Mr. Todd's kitchen. Association with the white women drew out all the -native gallantry of the mulatto, and Wellington developed quite a -helpful turn. His politeness, his willingness to lend a hand in kitchen -or laundry, and the fact that he was the only male servant on the place, -combined to make him a prime favorite in the servants' quarters. - -It was the general opinion among Wellington's acquaintances that he was -a single man. He had come to the city alone, had never been heard to -speak of a wife, and to personal questions bearing upon the subject of -matrimony had always returned evasive answers. Though he had never -questioned the correctness of the lawyer's opinion in regard to his -slave marriage, his conscience had never been entirely at ease since his -departure from the South, and any positive denial of his married -condition would have stuck in his throat. The inference naturally drawn -from his reticence in regard to the past, coupled with his expressed -intention of settling permanently in Groveland, was that he belonged in -the ranks of the unmarried, and was therefore legitimate game for any -widow or old maid who could bring him down. As such game is bagged -easiest at short range, he received numerous invitations to tea-parties, -where he feasted on unlimited chicken and pound cake. He used to compare -these viands with the plain fare often served by aunt Milly, and the -result of the comparison was another item to the credit of the North -upon his mental ledger. Several of the colored ladies who smiled upon -him were blessed with good looks, and uncle Wellington, naturally of a -susceptible temperament, as people of lively imagination are apt to be, -would probably have fallen a victim to the charms of some woman of his -own race, had it not been for a strong counter-attraction in the person -of Mrs. Flannigan. The attentions of the lately discharged coachman had -lighted anew the smouldering fires of her widowed heart, and awakened -longings which still remained unsatisfied. She was thirty-five years -old, and felt the need of some one else to love. She was not a woman of -lofty ideals; with her a man was a man---- - - "For a' that an' a' that;" - -and, aside from the accident of color, uncle Wellington was as -personable a man as any of her acquaintance. Some people might have -objected to his complexion; but then, Mrs. Flannigan argued, he was at -least half white; and, this being the case, there was no good reason why -he should be regarded as black. - -Uncle Wellington was not slow to perceive Mrs. Flannigan's charms of -person, and appreciated to the full the skill that prepared the choice -tidbits reserved for his plate at dinner. The prospect of securing a -white wife had been one of the principal inducements offered by a life -at the North; but the awe of white people in which he had been reared -was still too strong to permit his taking any active steps toward the -object of his secret desire, had not the lady herself come to his -assistance with a little of the native coquetry of her race. - -"Ah, Misther Braboy," she said one evening when they sat at the supper -table alone,--it was the second girl's afternoon off, and she had not -come home to supper,--"it must be an awful lonesome life ye 've been -afther l'adin', as a single man, wid no one to cook fer ye, or look -afther ye." - -"It are a kind er lonesome life, Mis' Flannigan, an' dat 's a fac'. But -sence I had de privilege er eatin' yo' cookin' an' 'joyin' yo' society, -I ain' felt a bit lonesome." - -"Yer flatthrin' me, Misther Braboy. An' even if ye mane it"---- - -"I means eve'y word of it, Mis' Flannigan." - -"An' even if ye mane it, Misther Braboy, the time is liable to come when -things 'll be different; for service is uncertain, Misther Braboy. An' -then you 'll wish you had some nice, clean woman, 'at knowed how to cook -an' wash an' iron, ter look afther ye, an' make yer life comfortable." - -Uncle Wellington sighed, and looked at her languishingly. - -"It 'u'd all be well ernuff, Mis' Flannigan, ef I had n' met you; but I -don' know whar I 's ter fin' a colored lady w'at 'll begin ter suit me -after habbin' libbed in de same house wid you." - -"Colored lady, indade! Why, Misther Braboy, ye don't nade ter demane -yerself by marryin' a colored lady--not but they 're as good as anybody -else, so long as they behave themselves. There 's many a white woman -'u'd be glad ter git as fine a lookin' man as ye are." - -"Now _you 're_ flattrin' _me_, Mis' Flannigan," said Wellington. But he -felt a sudden and substantial increase in courage when she had spoken, -and it was with astonishing ease that he found himself saying:---- - -"Dey ain' but one lady, Mis' Flannigan, dat could injuce me ter want ter -change de lonesomeness er my singleness fer de 'sponsibilities er -matermony, an' I 'm feared she 'd say no ef I 'd ax her." - -"Ye 'd better ax her, Misther Braboy, an' not be wastin' time -a-wond'rin'. Do I know the lady?" - -"You knows 'er better 'n anybody else, Mis' Flannigan. _You_ is de only -lady I 'd be satisfied ter marry after knowin' you. Ef you casts me off -I 'll spen' de rest er my days in lonesomeness an' mis'ry." - -Mrs. Flannigan affected much surprise and embarrassment at this bold -declaration. - -"Oh, Misther Braboy," she said, covering him with a coy glance, "an' -it 's rale 'shamed I am to hev b'en talkin' ter ye ez I hev. It looks as -though I 'd b'en doin' the coortin'. I did n't drame that I 'd b'en able -ter draw yer affections to mesilf." - -"I 's loved you ever sence I fell in yo' lap on de street car de fus' -day I wuz in Groveland," he said, as he moved his chair up closer to -hers. - -One evening in the following week they went out after supper to the -residence of Rev. Cæsar Williams, pastor of the colored Baptist church, -and, after the usual preliminaries, were pronounced man and wife. - - - -III - - -According to all his preconceived notions, this marriage ought to have -been the acme of uncle Wellington's felicity. But he soon found that it -was not without its drawbacks. On the following morning Mr. Todd was -informed of the marriage. He had no special objection to it, or interest -in it, except that he was opposed on principle to having husband and -wife in his employment at the same time. As a consequence, Mrs. Braboy, -whose place could be more easily filled than that of her husband, -received notice that her services would not be required after the end of -the month. Her husband was retained in his place as coachman. - -Upon the loss of her situation Mrs. Braboy decided to exercise the -married woman's prerogative of letting her husband support her. She -rented the upper floor of a small house in an Irish neighborhood. The -newly wedded pair furnished their rooms on the installment plan and -began housekeeping. - -There was one little circumstance, however, that interfered slightly -with their enjoyment of that perfect freedom from care which ought to -characterize a honeymoon. The people who owned the house and occupied -the lower floor had rented the upper part to Mrs. Braboy in person, it -never occurring to them that her husband could be other than a white -man. When it became known that he was colored, the landlord, Mr. Dennis -O'Flaherty, felt that he had been imposed upon, and, at the end of the -first month, served notice upon his tenants to leave the premises. When -Mrs. Braboy, with characteristic impetuosity, inquired the meaning of -this proceeding, she was informed by Mr. O'Flaherty that he did not care -to live in the same house "wid naygurs." Mrs. Braboy resented the -epithet with more warmth than dignity, and for a brief space of time the -air was green with choice specimens of brogue, the altercation barely -ceasing before it had reached the point of blows. - -It was quite clear that the Braboys could not longer live comfortably in -Mr. O'Flaherty's house, and they soon vacated the premises, first -letting the rent get a couple of weeks in arrears as a punishment to the -too fastidious landlord. They moved to a small house on Hackman Street, -a favorite locality with colored people. - -For a while, affairs ran smoothly in the new home. The colored people -seemed, at first, well enough disposed toward Mrs. Braboy, and she made -quite a large acquaintance among them. It was difficult, however, for -Mrs. Braboy to divest herself of the consciousness that she was white, -and therefore superior to her neighbors. Occasional words and acts by -which she manifested this feeling were noticed and resented by her -keen-eyed and sensitive colored neighbors. The result was a slight -coolness between them. That her few white neighbors did not visit her, -she naturally and no doubt correctly imputed to disapproval of her -matrimonial relations. - -Under these circumstances, Mrs. Braboy was left a good deal to her own -company. Owing to lack of opportunity in early life, she was not a woman -of many resources, either mental or moral. It is therefore not strange -that, in order to relieve her loneliness, she should occasionally have -recourse to a glass of beer, and, as the habit grew upon her, to still -stronger stimulants. Uncle Wellington himself was no tee-totaler, and -did not interpose any objection so long as she kept her potations within -reasonable limits, and was apparently none the worse for them; indeed, -he sometimes joined her in a glass. On one of these occasions he drank a -little too much, and, while driving the ladies of Mr. Todd's family to -the opera, ran against a lamp-post and overturned the carriage, to the -serious discomposure of the ladies' nerves, and at the cost of his -situation. - -A coachman discharged under such circumstances is not in the best -position for procuring employment at his calling, and uncle Wellington, -under the pressure of need, was obliged to seek some other means of -livelihood. At the suggestion of his friend Mr. Johnson, he bought a -whitewash brush, a peck of lime, a couple of pails, and a hand-cart, and -began work as a whitewasher. His first efforts were very crude, and for -a while he lost a customer in every person he worked for. He -nevertheless managed to pick up a living during the spring and summer -months, and to support his wife and himself in comparative comfort. - -The approach of winter put an end to the whitewashing season, and left -uncle Wellington dependent for support upon occasional jobs of unskilled -labor. The income derived from these was very uncertain, and Mrs. Braboy -was at length driven, by stress of circumstances, to the washtub, that -last refuge of honest, able-bodied poverty, in all countries where the -use of clothing is conventional. - -The last state of uncle Wellington was now worse than the first. Under -the soft firmness of aunt Milly's rule, he had not been required to do a -great deal of work, prompt and cheerful obedience being chiefly what was -expected of him. But matters were very different here. He had not only -to bring in the coal and water, but to rub the clothes and turn the -wringer, and to humiliate himself before the public by emptying the tubs -and hanging out the wash in full view of the neighbors; and he had to -deliver the clothes when laundered. - -At times Wellington found himself wondering if his second marriage had -been a wise one. Other circumstances combined to change in some degree -his once rose-colored conception of life at the North. He had believed -that all men were equal in this favored locality, but he discovered -more degrees of inequality than he had ever perceived at the South. A -colored man might be as good as a white man in theory, but neither of -them was of any special consequence without money, or talent, or -position. Uncle Wellington found a great many privileges open to him at -the North, but he had not been educated to the point where he could -appreciate them or take advantage of them; and the enjoyment of many of -them was expensive, and, for that reason alone, as far beyond his reach -as they had ever been. When he once began to admit even the possibility -of a mistake on his part, these considerations presented themselves to -his mind with increasing force. On occasions when Mrs. Braboy would -require of him some unusual physical exertion, or when too frequent -applications to the bottle had loosened her tongue, uncle Wellington's -mind would revert, with a remorseful twinge of conscience, to the _dolce -far niente_ of his Southern home; a film would come over his eyes and -brain, and, instead of the red-faced Irishwoman opposite him, he could -see the black but comely disk of aunt Milly's countenance bending over -the washtub; the elegant brogue of Mrs. Braboy would deliquesce into the -soft dialect of North Carolina; and he would only be aroused from this -blissful reverie by a wet shirt or a handful of suds thrown into his -face, with which gentle reminder his wife would recall his attention to -the duties of the moment. - -There came a time, one day in spring, when there was no longer any -question about it: uncle Wellington was desperately homesick. - -Liberty, equality, privileges,--all were but as dust in the balance when -weighed against his longing for old scenes and faces. It was the natural -reaction in the mind of a middle-aged man who had tried to force the -current of a sluggish existence into a new and radically different -channel. An active, industrious man, making the change in early life, -while there was time to spare for the waste of adaptation, might have -found in the new place more favorable conditions than in the old. In -Wellington age and temperament combined to prevent the success of the -experiment; the spirit of enterprise and ambition into which he had been -temporarily galvanized could no longer prevail against the inertia of -old habits of life and thought. - -One day when he had been sent to deliver clothes he performed his -errand quickly, and boarding a passing street car, paid one of his very -few five-cent pieces to ride down to the office of the Hon. Mr. Brown, -the colored lawyer whom he had visited when he first came to the city, -and who was well known to him by sight and reputation. - -"Mr. Brown," he said, "I ain' gitt'n' 'long very well wid my ole 'oman." - -"What 's the trouble?" asked the lawyer, with business-like curtness, -for he did not scent much of a fee. - -"Well, de main trouble is she doan treat me right. An' den she gits -drunk, an' wuss'n dat, she lays vi'lent han's on me. I kyars de marks er -dat 'oman on my face now." - -He showed the lawyer a long scratch on the neck. - -"Why don't you defend yourself?" - -"You don' know Mis' Braboy, suh; you don' know dat 'oman," he replied, -with a shake of the head. "Some er dese yer w'ite women is monst'us -strong in de wris'." - -"Well, Mr. Braboy, it 's what you might have expected when you turned -your back on your own people and married a white woman. You were n't -content with being a slave to the white folks once, but you must try it -again. Some people never know when they 've got enough. I don't see that -there 's any help for you; unless," he added suggestively, "you had a -good deal of money." - -'"Pears ter me I heared somebody say sence I be'n up heah, dat it wuz -'gin de law fer w'ite folks an' colored folks ter marry." - -"That was once the law, though it has always been a dead letter in -Groveland. In fact, it was the law when you got married, and until I -introduced a bill in the legislature last fall to repeal it. But even -that law did n't hit cases like yours. It was unlawful to make such a -marriage, but it was a good marriage when once made." - -"I don' jes' git dat th'oo my head," said Wellington, scratching that -member as though to make a hole for the idea to enter. - -"It 's quite plain, Mr. Braboy. It 's unlawful to kill a man, but when -he 's killed he 's just as dead as though the law permitted it. I 'm -afraid you have n't much of a case, but if you 'll go to work and get -twenty-five dollars together, I 'll see what I can do for you. We may be -able to pull a case through on the ground of extreme cruelty. I might -even start the case if you brought in ten dollars." - -Wellington went away sorrowfully. The laws of Ohio were very little more -satisfactory than those of North Carolina. And as for the ten -dollars,--the lawyer might as well have told him to bring in the moon, -or a deed for the Public Square. He felt very, very low as he hurried -back home to supper, which he would have to go without if he were not on -hand at the usual supper-time. - -But just when his spirits were lowest, and his outlook for the future -most hopeless, a measure of relief was at hand. He noticed, when he -reached home, that Mrs. Braboy was a little preoccupied, and did not -abuse him as vigorously as he expected after so long an absence. He also -perceived the smell of strange tobacco in the house, of a better grade -than he could afford to use. He thought perhaps some one had come in to -see about the washing; but he was too glad of a respite from Mrs. -Braboy's rhetoric to imperil it by indiscreet questions. - -Next morning she gave him fifty cents. - -"Braboy," she said, "ye 've be'n helpin' me nicely wid the washin', an' -I 'm going ter give ye a holiday. Ye can take yer hook an' line an' go -fishin' on the breakwater. I 'll fix ye a lunch, an' ye need n't come -back till night. An' there 's half a dollar; ye can buy yerself a pipe -er terbacky. But be careful an' don't waste it," she added, for fear she -was overdoing the thing. - -Uncle Wellington was overjoyed at this change of front on the part of -Mrs. Braboy; if she would make it permanent he did not see why they -might not live together very comfortably. - -The day passed pleasantly down on the breakwater. The weather was -agreeable, and the fish bit freely. Towards evening Wellington started -home with a bunch of fish that no angler need have been ashamed of. He -looked forward to a good warm supper; for even if something should have -happened during the day to alter his wife's mood for the worse, any -ordinary variation would be more than balanced by the substantial -addition of food to their larder. His mouth watered at the thought of -the finny beauties sputtering in the frying-pan. - -He noted, as he approached the house, that there was no smoke coming -from the chimney. This only disturbed him in connection with the matter -of supper. When he entered the gate he observed further that the -window-shades had been taken down. - -"'Spec' de ole 'oman's been house-cleanin'," he said to himself. "I -wonder she did n' make me stay an' he'p 'er." - -He went round to the rear of the house and tried the kitchen door. It -was locked. This was somewhat of a surprise, and disturbed still further -his expectations in regard to supper. When he had found the key and -opened the door, the gravity of his next discovery drove away for the -time being all thoughts of eating. - -The kitchen was empty. Stove, table, chairs, wash-tubs, pots and pans, -had vanished as if into thin air. - -"Fo' de Lawd's sake!" he murmured in open-mouthed astonishment. - -He passed into the other room,--they had only two,--which had served as -bedroom and sitting-room. It was as bare as the first, except that in -the middle of the floor were piled uncle Wellington's clothes. It was -not a large pile, and on the top of it lay a folded piece of yellow -wrapping-paper. - -Wellington stood for a moment as if petrified. Then he rubbed his eyes -and looked around him. - -"W'at do dis mean?" he said. "Is I er-dreamin', er does I see w'at I -'pears ter see?" He glanced down at the bunch of fish which he still -held. "Heah 's de fish; heah 's de house; heah I is; but whar 's de ole -'oman, an' whar 's de fu'niture? _I_ can't figure out w'at dis yer all -means." - -He picked up the piece of paper and unfolded it. It was written on one -side. Here was the obvious solution of the mystery,--that is, it would -have been obvious if he could have read it; but he could not, and so his -fancy continued to play upon the subject. Perhaps the house had been -robbed, or the furniture taken back by the seller, for it had not been -entirely paid for. - -Finally he went across the street and called to a boy in a neighbor's -yard. - -"Does you read writin', Johnnie?" - -"Yes, sir, I 'm in the seventh grade." - -"Read dis yer paper fuh me." - -The youngster took the note, and with much labor read the following:---- - - -"Mr. Braboy: - -"In lavin' ye so suddint I have ter say that my first husban' has turned -up unixpected, having been saved onbeknownst ter me from a wathry grave -an' all the money wasted I spint fer masses fer ter rist his sole an' I -wish I had it back I feel it my dooty ter go an' live wid 'im again. I -take the furnacher because I bought it yer close is yors I leave them -and wishin' yer the best of luck I remane oncet yer wife but now agin - -"Mrs. Katie Flannigan. - -"N.B. I 'm lavin town terday so it won't be no use lookin' fer me." - -On inquiry uncle Wellington learned from the boy that shortly after his -departure in the morning a white man had appeared on the scene, followed -a little later by a moving-van, into which the furniture had been loaded -and carried away. Mrs. Braboy, clad in her best clothes, had locked the -door, and gone away with the strange white man. - -The news was soon noised about the street. Wellington swapped his fish -for supper and a bed at a neighbor's, and during the evening learned -from several sources that the strange white man had been at his house -the afternoon of the day before. His neighbors intimated that they -thought Mrs. Braboy's departure a good riddance of bad rubbish, and -Wellington did not dispute the proposition. - -Thus ended the second chapter of Wellington's matrimonial experiences. -His wife's departure had been the one thing needful to convince him, -beyond a doubt, that he had been a great fool. Remorse and homesickness -forced him to the further conclusion that he had been knave as well as -fool, and had treated aunt Milly shamefully. He was not altogether a bad -old man, though very weak and erring, and his better nature now gained -the ascendency. Of course his disappointment had a great deal to do with -his remorse; most people do not perceive the hideousness of sin until -they begin to reap its consequences. Instead of the beautiful Northern -life he had dreamed of, he found himself stranded, penniless, in a -strange land, among people whose sympathy he had forfeited, with no one -to lean upon, and no refuge from the storms of life. His outlook was -very dark, and there sprang up within him a wild longing to get back to -North Carolina,--back to the little whitewashed cabin, shaded with china -and mulberry trees; back to the wood-pile and the garden; back to the -old cronies with whom he had swapped lies and tobacco for so many years. -He longed to kiss the rod of aunt Milly's domination. He had purchased -his liberty at too great a price. - -The next day he disappeared from Groveland. He had announced his -departure only to Mr. Johnson, who sent his love to his relations in -Patesville. - -It would be painful to record in detail the return journey of uncle -Wellington--Mr. Braboy no longer--to his native town; how many weary -miles he walked; how many times he risked his life on railroad tracks -and between freight cars; how he depended for sustenance on the grudging -hand of back-door charity. Nor would it be profitable or delicate to -mention any slight deviations from the path of rectitude, as judged by -conventional standards, to which he may occasionally have been driven by -a too insistent hunger; or to refer in the remotest degree to a -compulsory sojourn of thirty days in a city where he had no references, -and could show no visible means of support. True charity will let these -purely personal matters remain locked in the bosom of him who suffered -them. - - - -IV - - -Just fifteen months after the date when uncle Wellington had left North -Carolina, a weather-beaten figure entered the town of Patesville after -nightfall, following the railroad track from the north. Few would have -recognized in the hungry-looking old brown tramp, clad in dusty rags and -limping along with bare feet, the trim-looking middle-aged mulatto who -so few months before had taken the train from Patesville for the distant -North; so, if he had but known it, there was no necessity for him to -avoid the main streets and sneak around by unfrequented paths to reach -the old place on the other side of the town. He encountered nobody that -he knew, and soon the familiar shape of the little cabin rose before -him. It stood distinctly outlined against the sky, and the light -streaming from the half-opened shutters showed it to be occupied. As he -drew nearer, every familiar detail of the place appealed to his memory -and to his affections, and his heart went out to the old home and the -old wife. As he came nearer still, the odor of fried chicken floated out -upon the air and set his mouth to watering, and awakened unspeakable -longings in his half-starved stomach. - -At this moment, however, a fearful thought struck him; suppose the old -woman had taken legal advice and married again during his absence? Turn -about would have been only fair play. He opened the gate softly, and -with his heart in his mouth approached the window on tiptoe and looked -in. - -A cheerful fire was blazing on the hearth, in front of which sat the -familiar form of aunt Milly--and another, at the sight of whom uncle -Wellington's heart sank within him. He knew the other person very well; -he had sat there more than once before uncle Wellington went away. It -was the minister of the church to which his wife belonged. The -preacher's former visits, however, had signified nothing more than -pastoral courtesy, or appreciation of good eating. His presence now was -of serious portent; for Wellington recalled, with acute alarm, that the -elder's wife had died only a few weeks before his own departure for the -North. What was the occasion of his presence this evening? Was it merely -a pastoral call? or was he courting? or had aunt Milly taken legal -advice and married the elder? - -Wellington remembered a crack in the wall, at the back of the house, -through which he could see and hear, and quietly stationed himself -there. - -"Dat chicken smells mighty good, Sis' Milly," the elder was saying; "I -can't fer de life er me see why dat low-down husban' er yo'n could ever -run away f'm a cook like you. It 's one er de beatenis' things I ever -heared. How he could lib wid you an' not 'preciate you _I_ can't -understan', no indeed I can't." - -Aunt Milly sighed. "De trouble wid Wellin'ton wuz," she replied, "dat -he did n' know when he wuz well off. He wuz alluz wishin' fer change, er -studyin' 'bout somethin' new." - -"Ez fer me," responded the elder earnestly, "I likes things what has -be'n prove' an' tried an' has stood de tes', an' I can't 'magine how -anybody could spec' ter fin' a better housekeeper er cook dan you is, -Sis' Milly. I 'm a gittin' mighty lonesome sence my wife died. De Good -Book say it is not good fer man ter lib alone, en it 'pears ter me dat -you an' me mought git erlong tergether monst'us well." - -Wellington's heart stood still, while he listened with strained -attention. Aunt Milly sighed. - -"I ain't denyin', elder, but what I 've be'n kinder lonesome myse'f fer -quite a w'ile, an' I doan doubt dat w'at de Good Book say 'plies ter -women as well as ter men." - -"You kin be sho' it do," averred the elder, with professional -authoritativeness; "yas 'm, you kin be cert'n sho'." - -"But, of co'se," aunt Milly went on, "havin' los' my ole man de way I -did, it has tuk me some time fer ter git my feelin's straighten' out -like dey oughter be." - -"I kin 'magine yo' feelin's, Sis' Milly," chimed in the elder -sympathetically, "w'en you come home dat night an' foun' yo' chist broke -open, an' yo' money gone dat you had wukked an' slaved full f'm mawnin' -'tel night, year in an' year out, an' w'en you foun' dat no-'count -nigger gone wid his clo's an' you lef' all alone in de worl' ter scuffle -'long by yo'self." - -"Yas, elder," responded aunt Milly, "I wa'n't used right. An' den w'en I -heared 'bout his goin' ter de lawyer ter fin' out 'bout a defoce, an' -w'en I heared w'at de lawyer said 'bout my not bein' his wife 'less he -wanted me, it made me so mad, I made up my min' dat ef he ever put his -foot on my do'sill ag'in, I 'd shet de do' in his face an' tell 'im ter -go back whar he come f'm." - -To Wellington, on the outside, the cabin had never seemed so -comfortable, aunt Milly never so desirable, chicken never so appetizing, -as at this moment when they seemed slipping away from his grasp forever. - -"Yo' feelin's does you credit, Sis' Milly," said the elder, taking her -hand, which for a moment she did not withdraw. "An' de way fer you ter -close yo' do' tightes' ag'inst 'im is ter take me in his place. He ain' -got no claim on you no mo'. He tuk his ch'ice 'cordin' ter w'at de -lawyer tol' 'im, an' 'termine' dat he wa'n't yo' husban'. Ef he wa'n't -yo' husban', he had no right ter take yo' money, an' ef he comes back -here ag'in you kin hab 'im tuck up an' sent ter de penitenchy fer -stealin' it." - -Uncle Wellington's knees, already weak from fasting, trembled violently -beneath him. The worst that he had feared was now likely to happen. His -only hope of safety lay in flight, and yet the scene within so -fascinated him that he could not move a step. - -"It 'u'd serve him right," exclaimed aunt Milly indignantly, "ef he wuz -sent ter de penitenchy fer life! Dey ain't nuthin' too mean ter be done -ter 'im. What did I ever do dat he should use me like he did?" - -The recital of her wrongs had wrought upon aunt Milly's feelings so that -her voice broke, and she wiped her eyes with her apron. - -The elder looked serenely confident, and moved his chair nearer hers in -order the better to play the role of comforter. Wellington, on the -outside, felt so mean that the darkness of the night was scarcely -sufficient to hide him; it would be no more than right if the earth were -to open and swallow him up. - -"An' yet aftuh all, elder," said Milly with a sob, "though I knows you -is a better man, an' would treat me right, I wuz so use' ter dat ole -nigger, an' libbed wid 'im so long, dat ef he 'd open dat do' dis minute -an' walk in, I 'm feared I 'd be foolish ernuff an' weak ernuff to -forgive 'im an' take 'im back ag'in." - -With a bound, uncle Wellington was away from the crack in the wall. As -he ran round the house he passed the wood-pile and snatched up an armful -of pieces. A moment later he threw open the door. - -"Ole 'oman," he exclaimed, "here 's dat wood you tol' me ter fetch in! -Why, elder," he said to the preacher, who had started from his seat with -surprise, "w'at's yo' hurry? Won't you stay an' hab some supper wid us?" - - - - -The Bouquet - - -Mary Myrover's friends were somewhat surprised when she began to teach a -colored school. Miss Myrover's friends are mentioned here, because -nowhere more than in a Southern town is public opinion a force which -cannot be lightly contravened. Public opinion, however, did not oppose -Miss Myrover's teaching colored children; in fact, all the colored -public schools in town--and there were several--were taught by white -teachers, and had been so taught since the State had undertaken to -provide free public instruction for all children within its boundaries. -Previous to that time, there had been a Freedman's Bureau school and a -Presbyterian missionary school, but these had been withdrawn when the -need for them became less pressing. The colored people of the town had -been for some time agitating their right to teach their own schools, but -as yet the claim had not been conceded. - -The reason Miss Myrover's course created some surprise was not, -therefore, the fact that a Southern white woman should teach a colored -school; it lay in the fact that up to this time no woman of just her -quality had taken up such work. Most of the teachers of colored schools -were not of those who had constituted the aristocracy of the old régime; -they might be said rather to represent the new order of things, in which -labor was in time to become honorable, and men were, after a somewhat -longer time, to depend, for their place in society, upon themselves -rather than upon their ancestors. Mary Myrover belonged to one of the -proudest of the old families. Her ancestors had been people of -distinction in Virginia before a collateral branch of the main stock had -settled in North Carolina. Before the war, they had been able to live up -to their pedigree; but the war brought sad changes. Miss Myrover's -father--the Colonel Myrover who led a gallant but desperate charge at -Vicksburg--had fallen on the battlefield, and his tomb in the white -cemetery was a shrine for the family. On the Confederate Memorial Day, -no other grave was so profusely decorated with flowers, and, in the -oration pronounced, the name of Colonel Myrover was always used to -illustrate the highest type of patriotic devotion and self-sacrifice. -Miss Myrover's brother, too, had fallen in the conflict; but his bones -lay in some unknown trench, with those of a thousand others who had -fallen on the same field. Ay, more, her lover, who had hoped to come -home in the full tide of victory and claim his bride as a reward for -gallantry, had shared the fate of her father and brother. When the war -was over, the remnant of the family found itself involved in the common -ruin,--more deeply involved, indeed, than some others; for Colonel -Myrover had believed in the ultimate triumph of his cause, and had -invested most of his wealth in Confederate bonds, which were now only so -much waste paper. - -There had been a little left. Mrs. Myrover was thrifty, and had laid by -a few hundred dollars, which she kept in the house to meet unforeseen -contingencies. There remained, too, their home, with an ample garden and -a well-stocked orchard, besides a considerable tract of country land, -partly cleared, but productive of very little revenue. - -With their shrunken resources, Miss Myrover and her mother were able to -hold up their heads without embarrassment for some years after the close -of the war. But when things were adjusted to the changed conditions, and -the stream of life began to flow more vigorously in the new channels, -they saw themselves in danger of dropping behind, unless in some way -they could add to their meagre income. Miss Myrover looked over the -field of employment, never very wide for women in the South, and found -it occupied. The only available position she could be supposed prepared -to fill, and which she could take without distinct loss of caste, was -that of a teacher, and there was no vacancy except in one of the colored -schools. Even teaching was a doubtful experiment; it was not what she -would have preferred, but it was the best that could be done. "I don't -like it, Mary," said her mother. "It 's a long step from owning such -people to teaching them. What do they need with education? It will only -make them unfit for work." - -"They 're free now, mother, and perhaps they 'll work better if they 're -taught something. Besides, it 's only a business arrangement, and does n't -involve any closer contact than we have with our servants." - -"Well, I should say not!" sniffed the old lady. "Not one of them will -ever dare to presume on your position to take any liberties with us. -_I_ 'll see to that." - -Miss Myrover began her work as a teacher in the autumn, at the opening -of the school year. It was a novel experience at first. Though there had -always been negro servants in the house, and though on the streets -colored people were more numerous than those of her own race, and though -she was so familiar with their dialect that she might almost be said to -speak it, barring certain characteristic grammatical inaccuracies, she -had never been brought in personal contact with so many of them at once -as when she confronted the fifty or sixty faces--of colors ranging from -a white almost as clear as her own to the darkest livery of the -sun--which were gathered in the schoolroom on the morning when she began -her duties. Some of the inherited prejudice of her caste, too, made -itself felt, though she tried to repress any outward sign of it; and she -could perceive that the children were not altogether responsive; they, -likewise, were not entirely free from antagonism. The work was -unfamiliar to her. She was not physically very strong, and at the close -of the first day went home with a splitting headache. If she could have -resigned then and there without causing comment or annoyance to others, -she would have felt it a privilege to do so. But a night's rest banished -her headache and improved her spirits, and the next morning she went to -her work with renewed vigor, fortified by the experience of the first -day. - -Miss Myrover's second day was more satisfactory. She had some natural -talent for organization, though hitherto unaware of it, and in the -course of the day she got her classes formed and lessons under way. In a -week or two she began to classify her pupils in her own mind, as bright -or stupid, mischievous or well behaved, lazy or industrious, as the case -might be, and to regulate her discipline accordingly. That she had come -of a long line of ancestors who had exercised authority and mastership -was perhaps not without its effect upon her character, and enabled her -more readily to maintain good order in the school. When she was fairly -broken in, she found the work rather to her liking, and derived much -pleasure from such success as she achieved as a teacher. - -It was natural that she should be more attracted to some of her pupils -than to others. Perhaps her favorite--or, rather, the one she liked -best, for she was too fair and just for conscious favoritism--was Sophy -Tucker. Just the ground for the teacher's liking for Sophy might not at -first be apparent. The girl was far from the whitest of Miss Myrover's -pupils; in fact, she was one of the darker ones. She was not the -brightest in intellect, though she always tried to learn her lessons. -She was not the best dressed, for her mother was a poor widow, who went -out washing and scrubbing for a living. Perhaps the real tie between -them was Sophy's intense devotion to the teacher. It had manifested -itself almost from the first day of the school, in the rapt look of -admiration Miss Myrover always saw on the little black face turned -toward her. In it there was nothing of envy, nothing of regret; nothing -but worship for the beautiful white lady--she was not especially -handsome, but to Sophy her beauty was almost divine--who had come to -teach her. If Miss Myrover dropped a book, Sophy was the first to spring -and pick it up; if she wished a chair moved, Sophy seemed to anticipate -her wish; and so of all the numberless little services that can be -rendered in a schoolroom. - -Miss Myrover was fond of flowers, and liked to have them about her. The -children soon learned of this taste of hers, and kept the vases on her -desk filled with blossoms during their season. Sophy was perhaps the -most active in providing them. If she could not get garden flowers, she -would make excursions to the woods in the early morning, and bring in -great dew-laden bunches of bay, or jasmine, or some other fragrant -forest flower which she knew the teacher loved. - -"When I die, Sophy," Miss Myrover said to the child one day, "I want to -be covered with roses. And when they bury me, I 'm sure I shall rest -better if my grave is banked with flowers, and roses are planted at my -head and at my feet." - -Miss Myrover was at first amused at Sophy's devotion; but when she grew -more accustomed to it, she found it rather to her liking. It had a sort -of flavor of the old régime, and she felt, when she bestowed her kindly -notice upon her little black attendant, some of the feudal condescension -of the mistress toward the slave. She was kind to Sophy, and permitted -her to play the rôle she had assumed, which caused sometimes a little -jealousy among the other girls. Once she gave Sophy a yellow ribbon -which she took from her own hair. The child carried it home, and -cherished it as a priceless treasure, to be worn only on the greatest -occasions. - -Sophy had a rival in her attachment to the teacher, but the rivalry was -altogether friendly. Miss Myrover had a little dog, a white spaniel, -answering to the name of Prince. Prince was a dog of high degree, and -would have very little to do with the children of the school; he made an -exception, however, in the case of Sophy, whose devotion for his -mistress he seemed to comprehend. He was a clever dog, and could fetch -and carry, sit up on his haunches, extend his paw to shake hands, and -possessed several other canine accomplishments. He was very fond of his -mistress, and always, unless shut up at home, accompanied her to school, -where he spent most of his time lying under the teacher's desk, or, in -cold weather, by the stove, except when he would go out now and then and -chase an imaginary rabbit round the yard, presumably for exercise. - -At school Sophy and Prince vied with each other in their attentions to -Miss Myrover. But when school was over, Prince went away with her, and -Sophy stayed behind; for Miss Myrover was white and Sophy was black, -which they both understood perfectly well. Miss Myrover taught the -colored children, but she could not be seen with them in public. If they -occasionally met her on the street, they did not expect her to speak to -them, unless she happened to be alone and no other white person was in -sight. If any of the children felt slighted, she was not aware of it, -for she intended no slight; she had not been brought up to speak to -negroes on the street, and she could not act differently from other -people. And though she was a woman of sentiment and capable of deep -feeling, her training had been such that she hardly expected to find in -those of darker hue than herself the same susceptibility--varying in -degree, perhaps, but yet the same in kind--that gave to her own life the -alternations of feeling that made it most worth living. - -Once Miss Myrover wished to carry home a parcel of books. She had the -bundle in her hand when Sophy came up. - -"Lemme tote yo' bundle fer yer, Miss Ma'y?" she asked eagerly. "I 'm -gwine yo' way." - -"Thank you, Sophy," was the reply. "I 'll be glad if you will." - -Sophy followed the teacher at a respectful distance. When they reached -Miss Myrover's home, Sophy carried the bundle to the doorstep, where -Miss Myrover took it and thanked her. - -Mrs. Myrover came out on the piazza as Sophy was moving away. She said, -in the child's hearing, and perhaps with the intention that she should -hear: "Mary, I wish you would n't let those little darkeys follow you to -the house. I don't want them in the yard. I should think you 'd have -enough of them all day." - -"Very well, mother," replied her daughter. "I won't bring any more of -them. The child was only doing me a favor." - -Mrs. Myrover was an invalid, and opposition or irritation of any kind -brought on nervous paroxysms that made her miserable, and made life a -burden to the rest of the household, so that Mary seldom crossed her -whims. She did not bring Sophy to the house again, nor did Sophy again -offer her services as porter. - -One day in spring Sophy brought her teacher a bouquet of yellow roses. - -"Dey come off'n my own bush, Miss Ma'y," she said proudly, "an' I didn' -let nobody e'se pull 'em, but saved 'em all fer you, 'cause I know you -likes roses so much. I 'm gwine bring 'em all ter you as long as dey -las'." - -"Thank you, Sophy," said the teacher; "you are a very good girl." - -For another year Mary Myrover taught the colored school, and did -excellent service. The children made rapid progress under her tuition, -and learned to love her well; for they saw and appreciated, as well as -children could, her fidelity to a trust that she might have slighted, as -some others did, without much fear of criticism. Toward the end of her -second year she sickened, and after a brief illness died. - -Old Mrs. Myrover was inconsolable. She ascribed her daughter's death to -her labors as teacher of negro children. Just how the color of the -pupils had produced the fatal effects she did not stop to explain. But -she was too old, and had suffered too deeply from the war, in body and -mind and estate, ever to reconcile herself to the changed order of -things following the return of peace; and, with an unsound yet perfectly -explainable logic, she visited some of her displeasure upon those who -had profited most, though passively, by her losses. - -"I always feared something would happen to Mary," she said. "It seemed -unnatural for her to be wearing herself out teaching little negroes who -ought to have been working for her. But the world has hardly been a fit -place to live in since the war, and when I follow her, as I must before -long, I shall not be sorry to go." - -She gave strict orders that no colored people should be admitted to the -house. Some of her friends heard of this, and remonstrated. They knew -the teacher was loved by the pupils, and felt that sincere respect from -the humble would be a worthy tribute to the proudest. But Mrs. Myrover -was obdurate. - -"They had my daughter when she was alive," she said, "and they 've -killed her. But she 's mine now, and I won't have them come near her. I -don't want one of them at the funeral or anywhere around." - -For a month before Miss Myrover's death Sophy had been watching her -rosebush--the one that bore the yellow roses--for the first buds of -spring, and, when these appeared, had awaited impatiently their gradual -unfolding. But not until her teacher's death had they become full-blown -roses. When Miss Myrover died, Sophy determined to pluck the roses and -lay them on her coffin. Perhaps, she thought, they might even put them -in her hand or on her breast. For Sophy remembered Miss Myrover's thanks -and praise when she had brought her the yellow roses the spring before. - -On the morning of the day set for the funeral, Sophy washed her face -until it shone, combed and brushed her hair with painful -conscientiousness, put on her best frock, plucked her yellow roses, and, -tying them with the treasured ribbon her teacher had given her, set out -for Miss Myrover's home. - -She went round to the side gate--the house stood on a corner--and stole -up the path to the kitchen. A colored woman, whom she did not know, came -to the door. - -"Wat yer want, chile?" she inquired. - -"Kin I see Miss Ma'y?" asked Sophy timidly. - -"I don't know, honey. Ole Miss Myrover say she don't want no cullud -folks roun' de house endyoin' dis fun'al. I 'll look an' see if she 's -roun' de front room, whar de co'pse is. You sed down heah an' keep -still, an' ef she 's upstairs maybe I kin git yer in dere a minute. Ef I -can't, I kin put yo' bokay 'mongs' de res', whar she won't know nuthin' -erbout it." - -A moment after she had gone, there was a step in the hall, and old Mrs. -Myrover came into the kitchen. - -"Dinah!" she said in a peevish tone; "Dinah!" - -Receiving no answer, Mrs. Myrover peered around the kitchen, and caught -sight of Sophy. - -"What are you doing here?" she demanded. - -"I-I 'm-m waitin' ter see de cook, ma'am," stammered Sophy. - -"The cook is n't here now. I don't know where she is. Besides, my -daughter is to be buried to-day, and I won't have any one visiting the -servants until the funeral is over. Come back some other day, or see the -cook at her own home in the evening." - -She stood waiting for the child to go, and under the keen glance of her -eyes Sophy, feeling as though she had been caught in some disgraceful -act, hurried down the walk and out of the gate, with her bouquet in her -hand. - -"Dinah," said Mrs. Myrover, when the cook came back, "I don't want any -strange people admitted here to-day. The house will be full of our -friends, and we have no room for others." - -"Yas 'm," said the cook. She understood perfectly what her mistress -meant; and what the cook thought about her mistress was a matter of no -consequence. - -The funeral services were held at St. Paul's Episcopal Church, where the -Myrovers had always worshiped. Quite a number of Miss Myrover's pupils -went to the church to attend the services. The building was not a large -one. There was a small gallery at the rear, to which colored people were -admitted, if they chose to come, at ordinary services; and those who -wished to be present at the funeral supposed that the usual custom would -prevail. They were therefore surprised, when they went to the side -entrance, by which colored people gained access to the gallery stairs, -to be met by an usher who barred their passage. - -"I 'm sorry," he said, "but I have had orders to admit no one until the -friends of the family have all been seated. If you wish to wait until -the white people have all gone in, and there 's any room left, you may -be able to get into the back part of the gallery. Of course I can't tell -yet whether there 'll be any room or not." - -Now the statement of the usher was a very reasonable one; but, strange -to say, none of the colored people chose to remain except Sophy. She -still hoped to use her floral offering for its destined end, in some -way, though she did not know just how. She waited in the yard until the -church was filled with white people, and a number who could not gain -admittance were standing about the doors. Then she went round to the -side of the church, and, depositing her bouquet carefully on an old -mossy gravestone, climbed up on the projecting sill of a window near the -chancel. The window was of stained glass, of somewhat ancient make. The -church was old, had indeed been built in colonial times, and the stained -glass had been brought from England. The design of the window showed -Jesus blessing little children. Time had dealt gently with the window, -but just at the feet of the figure of Jesus a small triangular piece of -glass had been broken out. To this aperture Sophy applied her eyes, and -through it saw and heard what she could of the services within. - -Before the chancel, on trestles draped in black, stood the sombre casket -in which lay all that was mortal of her dear teacher. The top of the -casket was covered with flowers; and lying stretched out underneath it -she saw Miss Myrover's little white dog, Prince. He had followed the -body to the church, and, slipping in unnoticed among the mourners, had -taken his place, from which no one had the heart to remove him. - -The white-robed rector read the solemn service for the dead, and then -delivered a brief address, in which he dwelt upon the uncertainty of -life, and, to the believer, the certain blessedness of eternity. He -spoke of Miss Myrover's kindly spirit, and, as an illustration of her -love and self-sacrifice for others, referred to her labors as a teacher -of the poor ignorant negroes who had been placed in their midst by an -all-wise Providence, and whom it was their duty to guide and direct in -the station in which God had put them. Then the organ pealed, a prayer -was said, and the long cortege moved from the church to the cemetery, -about half a mile away, where the body was to be interred. - -When the services were over, Sophy sprang down from her perch, and, -taking her flowers, followed the procession. She did not walk with the -rest, but at a proper and respectful distance from the last mourner. No -one noticed the little black girl with the bunch of yellow flowers, or -thought of her as interested in the funeral. - -The cortege reached the cemetery and filed slowly through the gate; but -Sophy stood outside, looking at a small sign in white letters on a black -background:---- - -"_Notice_. This cemetery is for white people only. Others please keep -out." - -Sophy, thanks to Miss Myrover's painstaking instruction, could read this -sign very distinctly. In fact, she had often read it before. For Sophy -was a child who loved beauty, in a blind, groping sort of way, and had -sometimes stood by the fence of the cemetery and looked through at the -green mounds and shaded walks and blooming flowers within, and wished -that she might walk among them. She knew, too, that the little sign on -the gate, though so courteously worded, was no mere formality; for she -had heard how a colored man, who had wandered into the cemetery on a hot -night and fallen asleep on the flat top of a tomb, had been arrested as -a vagrant and fined five dollars, which he had worked out on the -streets, with a ball-and-chain attachment, at twenty-five cents a day. -Since that time the cemetery gate had been locked at night. - -So Sophy stayed outside, and looked through the fence. Her poor bouquet -had begun to droop by this time, and the yellow ribbon had lost some of -its freshness. Sophy could see the rector standing by the grave, the -mourners gathered round; she could faintly distinguish the solemn words -with which ashes were committed to ashes, and dust to dust. She heard -the hollow thud of the earth falling on the coffin; and she leaned -against the iron fence, sobbing softly, until the grave was filled and -rounded off, and the wreaths and other floral pieces were disposed upon -it. When the mourners began to move toward the gate, Sophy walked slowly -down the street, in a direction opposite to that taken by most of the -people who came out. - -When they had all gone away, and the sexton had come out and locked the -gate behind him, Sophy crept back. Her roses were faded now, and from -some of them the petals had fallen. She stood there irresolute, loath to -leave with her heart's desire unsatisfied, when, as her eyes sought -again the teacher's last resting-place, she saw lying beside the -new-made grave what looked like a small bundle of white wool. Sophy's -eyes lighted up with a sudden glow. - -"Prince! Here, Prince!" she called. - -The little dog rose, and trotted down to the gate. Sophy pushed the poor -bouquet between the iron bars. "Take that ter Miss Ma'y, Prince," she -said, "that 's a good doggie." - -The dog wagged his tail intelligently, took the bouquet carefully in his -mouth, carried it to his mistress's grave, and laid it among the other -flowers. The bunch of roses was so small that from where she stood Sophy -could see only a dash of yellow against the white background of the mass -of flowers. - -When Prince had performed his mission he turned his eyes toward Sophy -inquiringly, and when she gave him a nod of approval lay down and -resumed his watch by the graveside. Sophy looked at him a moment with a -feeling very much like envy, and then turned and moved slowly away. - - - - -The Web of Circumstance - - - -I - - -Within a low clapboarded hut, with an open front, a forge was glowing. -In front a blacksmith was shoeing a horse, a sleek, well-kept animal -with the signs of good blood and breeding. A young mulatto stood by and -handed the blacksmith such tools as he needed from time to time. A group -of negroes were sitting around, some in the shadow of the shop, one in -the full glare of the sunlight. A gentleman was seated in a buggy a few -yards away, in the shade of a spreading elm. The horse had loosened a -shoe, and Colonel Thornton, who was a lover of fine horseflesh, and -careful of it, had stopped at Ben Davis's blacksmith shop, as soon as he -discovered the loose shoe, to have it fastened on. - -"All right, Kunnel," the blacksmith called out. "Tom," he said, -addressing the young man, "he'p me hitch up." - -Colonel Thornton alighted from the buggy, looked at the shoe, signified -his approval of the job, and stood looking on while the blacksmith and -his assistant harnessed the horse to the buggy. - -"Dat 's a mighty fine whip yer got dere, Kunnel," said Ben, while the -young man was tightening the straps of the harness on the opposite side -of the horse. "I wush I had one like it. Where kin yer git dem whips?" - -"My brother brought me this from New York," said the Colonel. "You can't -buy them down here." - -The whip in question was a handsome one. The handle was wrapped with -interlacing threads of variegated colors, forming an elaborate pattern, -the lash being dark green. An octagonal ornament of glass was set in the -end of the handle. - -"It cert'n'y is fine," said Ben; "I wish I had one like it." He looked -at the whip longingly as Colonel Thornton drove away. - -"'Pears ter me Ben gittin' mighty blooded," said one of the bystanders, -"drivin' a hoss an' buggy, an' wantin' a whip like Colonel Thornton's." - -"What 's de reason I can't hab a hoss an' buggy an' a whip like Kunnel -Tho'nton's, ef I pay fer 'em?" asked Ben. "We colored folks never had no -chance ter git nothin' befo' de wah, but ef eve'y nigger in dis town had -a tuck keer er his money sence de wah, like I has, an' bought as much -lan' as I has, de niggers might 'a' got half de lan' by dis time," he -went on, giving a finishing blow to a horseshoe, and throwing it on the -ground to cool. - -Carried away by his own eloquence, he did not notice the approach of two -white men who came up the street from behind him. - -"An' ef you niggers," he continued, raking the coals together over a -fresh bar of iron, "would stop wastin' yo' money on 'scursions to put -money in w'ite folks' pockets, an' stop buildin' fine chu'ches, an' -buil' houses fer yo'se'ves, you 'd git along much faster." - -"You 're talkin' sense, Ben," said one of the white men. "Yo'r people -will never be respected till they 've got property." - -The conversation took another turn. The white men transacted their -business and went away. The whistle of a neighboring steam sawmill blew -a raucous blast for the hour of noon, and the loafers shuffled away in -different directions. - -"You kin go ter dinner, Tom," said the blacksmith. "An' stop at de gate -w'en yer go by my house, and tell Nancy I 'll be dere in 'bout twenty -minutes. I got ter finish dis yer plough p'int fus'." - -The young man walked away. One would have supposed, from the rapidity -with which he walked, that he was very hungry. A quarter of an hour -later the blacksmith dropped his hammer, pulled off his leather apron, -shut the front door of the shop, and went home to dinner. He came into -the house out of the fervent heat, and, throwing off his straw hat, -wiped his brow vigorously with a red cotton handkerchief. - -"Dem collards smells good," he said, sniffing the odor that came in -through the kitchen door, as his good-looking yellow wife opened it to -enter the room where he was. "I 've got a monst'us good appetite -ter-day. I feels good, too. I paid Majah Ransom de intrus' on de -mortgage dis mawnin' an' a hund'ed dollahs besides, an' I spec's ter hab -de balance ready by de fust of nex' Jiniwary; an' den we won't owe -nobody a cent. I tell yer dere ain' nothin' like propputy ter make a -pusson feel like a man. But w'at 's de matter wid yer, Nancy? Is sump'n' -skeered yer?" - -The woman did seem excited and ill at ease. There was a heaving of the -full bust, a quickened breathing, that betokened suppressed excitement. - -"I-I-jes' seen a rattlesnake out in de gyahden," she stammered. - -The blacksmith ran to the door. "Which way? Whar wuz he?" he cried. - -He heard a rustling in the bushes at one side of the garden, and the -sound of a breaking twig, and, seizing a hoe which stood by the door, he -sprang toward the point from which the sound came. - -"No, no," said the woman hurriedly, "it wuz over here," and she directed -her husband's attention to the other side of the garden. - -The blacksmith, with the uplifted hoe, its sharp blade gleaming in the -sunlight, peered cautiously among the collards and tomato plants, -listening all the while for the ominous rattle, but found nothing. - -"I reckon he 's got away," he said, as he set the hoe up again by the -door. "Whar 's de chillen?" he asked with some anxiety. "Is dey playin' -in de woods?" - -"No," answered his wife, "dey 've gone ter de spring." - -The spring was on the opposite side of the garden from that on which the -snake was said to have been seen, so the blacksmith sat down and fanned -himself with a palm-leaf fan until the dinner was served. - -"Yer ain't quite on time ter-day, Nancy," he said, glancing up at the -clock on the mantel, after the edge of his appetite had been taken off. -"Got ter make time ef yer wanter make money. Did n't Tom tell yer I 'd -be heah in twenty minutes?" - -"No," she said; "I seen him goin' pas'; he did n' say nothin'." - -"I dunno w'at 's de matter wid dat boy," mused the blacksmith over his -apple dumpling. "He 's gittin' mighty keerless heah lately; mus' hab -sump'n' on 'is min',--some gal, I reckon." - -The children had come in while he was speaking,--a slender, shapely -boy, yellow like his mother, a girl several years younger, dark like her -father: both bright-looking children and neatly dressed. - -"I seen cousin Tom down by de spring," said the little girl, as she -lifted off the pail of water that had been balanced on her head. "He -come out er de woods jest ez we wuz fillin' our buckets." - -"Yas," insisted the blacksmith, "he 's got some gal on his min'." - - - -II - - -The case of the State of North Carolina _vs_. Ben Davis was called. The -accused was led into court, and took his seat in the prisoner's dock. - -"Prisoner at the bar, stand up." - -The prisoner, pale and anxious, stood up. The clerk read the indictment, -in which it was charged that the defendant by force and arms had entered -the barn of one G.W. Thornton, and feloniously taken therefrom one whip, -of the value of fifteen dollars. - -"Are you guilty or not guilty?" asked the judge. - -"Not guilty, yo' Honah; not guilty, Jedge. I never tuck de whip." - -The State's attorney opened the case. He was young and zealous. Recently -elected to the office, this was his first batch of cases, and he was -anxious to make as good a record as possible. He had no doubt of the -prisoner's guilt. There had been a great deal of petty thieving in the -county, and several gentlemen had suggested to him the necessity for -greater severity in punishing it. The jury were all white men. The -prosecuting attorney stated the case. - -"We expect to show, gentlemen of the jury, the facts set out in the -indictment,--not altogether by direct proof, but by a chain of -circumstantial evidence which is stronger even than the testimony of -eyewitnesses. Men might lie, but circumstances cannot. We expect to show -that the defendant is a man of dangerous character, a surly, impudent -fellow; a man whose views of property are prejudicial to the welfare of -society, and who has been heard to assert that half the property which -is owned in this county has been stolen, and that, if justice were done, -the white people ought to divide up the land with the negroes; in other -words, a negro nihilist, a communist, a secret devotee of Tom Paine and -Voltaire, a pupil of the anarchist propaganda, which, if not checked by -the stern hand of the law, will fasten its insidious fangs on our social -system, and drag it down to ruin." - -"We object, may it please your Honor," said the defendant's attorney. -"The prosecutor should defer his argument until the testimony is in." - -"Confine yourself to the facts, Major," said the court mildly. - -The prisoner sat with half-open mouth, overwhelmed by this flood of -eloquence. He had never heard of Tom Paine or Voltaire. He had no -conception of what a nihilist or an anarchist might be, and could not -have told the difference between a propaganda and a potato. - -"We expect to show, may it please the court, that the prisoner had been -employed by Colonel Thornton to shoe a horse; that the horse was taken -to the prisoner's blacksmith shop by a servant of Colonel Thornton's; -that, this servant expressing a desire to go somewhere on an errand -before the horse had been shod, the prisoner volunteered to return the -horse to Colonel Thornton's stable; that he did so, and the following -morning the whip in question was missing; that, from circumstances, -suspicion naturally fell upon the prisoner, and a search was made of his -shop, where the whip was found secreted; that the prisoner denied that -the whip was there, but when confronted with the evidence of his crime, -showed by his confusion that he was guilty beyond a peradventure." - -The prisoner looked more anxious; so much eloquence could not but be -effective with the jury. - -The attorney for the defendant answered briefly, denying the defendant's -guilt, dwelling upon his previous good character for honesty, and -begging the jury not to pre-judge the case, but to remember that the law -is merciful, and that the benefit of the doubt should be given to the -prisoner. - -The prisoner glanced nervously at the jury. There was nothing in their -faces to indicate the effect upon them of the opening statements. It -seemed to the disinterested listeners as if the defendant's attorney -had little confidence in his client's cause. - -Colonel Thornton took the stand and testified to his ownership of the -whip, the place where it was kept, its value, and the fact that it had -disappeared. The whip was produced in court and identified by the -witness. He also testified to the conversation at the blacksmith shop in -the course of which the prisoner had expressed a desire to possess a -similar whip. The cross-examination was brief, and no attempt was made -to shake the Colonel's testimony. - -The next witness was the constable who had gone with a warrant to search -Ben's shop. He testified to the circumstances under which the whip was -found. - -"He wuz brazen as a mule at fust, an' wanted ter git mad about it. But -when we begun ter turn over that pile er truck in the cawner, he kinder -begun ter trimble; when the whip-handle stuck out, his eyes commenced -ter grow big, an' when we hauled the whip out he turned pale ez ashes, -an' begun to swear he did n' take the whip an' did n' know how it got -thar." - -"You may cross-examine," said the prosecuting attorney triumphantly. - -The prisoner felt the weight of the testimony, and glanced furtively at -the jury, and then appealingly at his lawyer. - -"You say that Ben denied that he had stolen the whip," said the -prisoner's attorney, on cross-examination. "Did it not occur to you that -what you took for brazen impudence might have been but the evidence of -conscious innocence?" - -The witness grinned incredulously, revealing thereby a few blackened -fragments of teeth. - -"I 've tuck up more 'n a hundred niggers fer stealin', Kurnel, an' I -never seed one yit that did n' 'ny it ter the las'." - -"Answer my question. Might not the witness's indignation have been a -manifestation of conscious innocence? Yes or no?" - -"Yes, it mought, an' the moon mought fall--but it don't." - -Further cross-examination did not weaken the witness's testimony, which -was very damaging, and every one in the court room felt instinctively -that a strong defense would be required to break down the State's case. - -"The State rests," said the prosecuting attorney, with a ring in his -voice which spoke of certain victory. - -There was a temporary lull in the proceedings, during which a bailiff -passed a pitcher of water and a glass along the line of jury-men. The -defense was then begun. - -The law in its wisdom did not permit the defendant to testify in his own -behalf. There were no witnesses to the facts, but several were called to -testify to Ben's good character. The colored witnesses made him out -possessed of all the virtues. One or two white men testified that they -had never known anything against his reputation for honesty. - -The defendant rested his case, and the State called its witnesses in -rebuttal. They were entirely on the point of character. One testified -that he had heard the prisoner say that, if the negroes had their -rights, they would own at least half the property. Another testified -that he had heard the defendant say that the negroes spent too much -money on churches, and that they cared a good deal more for God than God -had ever seemed to care for them. - -Ben Davis listened to this testimony with half-open mouth and staring -eyes. Now and then he would lean forward and speak perhaps a word, when -his attorney would shake a warning finger at him, and he would fall back -helplessly, as if abandoning himself to fate; but for a moment only, -when he would resume his puzzled look. - -The arguments followed. The prosecuting attorney briefly summed up the -evidence, and characterized it as almost a mathematical proof of the -prisoner's guilt. He reserved his eloquence for the closing argument. - -The defendant's attorney had a headache, and secretly believed his -client guilty. His address sounded more like an appeal for mercy than a -demand for justice. Then the State's attorney delivered the maiden -argument of his office, the speech that made his reputation as an -orator, and opened up to him a successful political career. - -The judge's charge to the jury was a plain, simple statement of the law -as applied to circumstantial evidence, and the mere statement of the law -foreshadowed the verdict. - -The eyes of the prisoner were glued to the jury-box, and he looked more -and more like a hunted animal. In the rear of the crowd of blacks who -filled the back part of the room, partly concealed by the projecting -angle of the fireplace, stood Tom, the blacksmith's assistant. If the -face is the mirror of the soul, then this man's soul, taken off its -guard in this moment of excitement, was full of lust and envy and all -evil passions. - -The jury filed out of their box, and into the jury room behind the -judge's stand. There was a moment of relaxation in the court room. The -lawyers fell into conversation across the table. The judge beckoned to -Colonel Thornton, who stepped forward, and they conversed together a few -moments. The prisoner was all eyes and ears in this moment of waiting, -and from an involuntary gesture on the part of the judge he divined that -they were speaking of him. It is a pity he could not hear what was said. - -"How do you feel about the case, Colonel?" asked the judge. - -"Let him off easy," replied Colonel Thornton. "He 's the best blacksmith -in the county." - -The business of the court seemed to have halted by tacit consent, in -anticipation of a quick verdict. The suspense did not last long. -Scarcely ten minutes had elapsed when there was a rap on the door, the -officer opened it, and the jury came out. - -The prisoner, his soul in his eyes, sought their faces, but met no -reassuring glance; they were all looking away from him. - -"Gentlemen of the jury, have you agreed upon a verdict?" - -"We have," responded the foreman. The clerk of the court stepped forward -and took the fateful slip from the foreman's hand. - -The clerk read the verdict: "We, the jury impaneled and sworn to try the -issues in this cause, do find the prisoner guilty as charged in the -indictment." - -There was a moment of breathless silence. Then a wild burst of grief -from the prisoner's wife, to which his two children, not understanding -it all, but vaguely conscious of some calamity, added their voices in -two long, discordant wails, which would have been ludicrous had they not -been heartrending. - -The face of the young man in the back of the room expressed relief and -badly concealed satisfaction. The prisoner fell back upon the seat from -which he had half risen in his anxiety, and his dark face assumed an -ashen hue. What he thought could only be surmised. Perhaps, knowing his -innocence, he had not believed conviction possible; perhaps, conscious -of guilt, he dreaded the punishment, the extent of which was optional -with the judge, within very wide limits. Only one other person present -knew whether or not he was guilty, and that other had slunk furtively -from the court room. - -Some of the spectators wondered why there should be so much ado about -convicting a negro of stealing a buggy-whip. They had forgotten their -own interest of the moment before. They did not realize out of what -trifles grow the tragedies of life. - -It was four o'clock in the afternoon, the hour for adjournment, when the -verdict was returned. The judge nodded to the bailiff. - -"Oyez, oyez! this court is now adjourned until ten o'clock to-morrow -morning," cried the bailiff in a singsong voice. The judge left the -bench, the jury filed out of the box, and a buzz of conversation filled -the court room. - -"Brace up, Ben, brace up, my boy," said the defendant's lawyer, half -apologetically. "I did what I could for you, but you can never tell what -a jury will do. You won't be sentenced till to-morrow morning. In the -meantime I 'll speak to the judge and try to get him to be easy with -you. He may let you off with a light fine." - -The negro pulled himself together, and by an effort listened. - -"Thanky, Majah," was all he said. He seemed to be thinking of something -far away. - -He barely spoke to his wife when she frantically threw herself on him, -and clung to his neck, as he passed through the side room on his way to -jail. He kissed his children mechanically, and did not reply to the -soothing remarks made by the jailer. - - - -III - - -There was a good deal of excitement in town the next morning. Two white -men stood by the post office talking. - -"Did yer hear the news?" - -"No, what wuz it?" - -"Ben Davis tried ter break jail las' night." - -"You don't say so! What a fool! He ain't be'n sentenced yit." - -"Well, now," said the other, "I 've knowed Ben a long time, an' he wuz a -right good nigger. I kinder found it hard ter b'lieve he did steal that -whip. But what 's a man's feelin's ag'in' the proof?" - -They spoke on awhile, using the past tense as if they were speaking of a -dead man. - -"Ef I know Jedge Hart, Ben 'll wish he had slep' las' night, 'stidder -tryin' ter break out'n jail." - -At ten o'clock the prisoner was brought into court. He walked with -shambling gait, bent at the shoulders, hopelessly, with downcast eyes, -and took his seat with several other prisoners who had been brought in -for sentence. His wife, accompanied by the children, waited behind him, -and a number of his friends were gathered in the court room. - -The first prisoner sentenced was a young white man, convicted several -days before of manslaughter. The deed was done in the heat of passion, -under circumstances of great provocation, during a quarrel about a -woman. The prisoner was admonished of the sanctity of human life, and -sentenced to one year in the penitentiary. - -The next case was that of a young clerk, eighteen or nineteen years of -age, who had committed a forgery in order to procure the means to buy -lottery tickets. He was well connected, and the case would not have been -prosecuted if the judge had not refused to allow it to be nolled, and, -once brought to trial, a conviction could not have been avoided. - -"You are a young man," said the judge gravely, yet not unkindly, "and -your life is yet before you. I regret that you should have been led into -evil courses by the lust for speculation, so dangerous in its -tendencies, so fruitful of crime and misery. I am led to believe that -you are sincerely penitent, and that, after such punishment as the law -cannot remit without bringing itself into contempt, you will see the -error of your ways and follow the strict path of rectitude. Your fault -has entailed distress not only upon yourself, but upon your relatives, -people of good name and good family, who suffer as keenly from your -disgrace as you yourself. Partly out of consideration for their -feelings, and partly because I feel that, under the circumstances, the -law will be satisfied by the penalty I shall inflict, I sentence you to -imprisonment in the county jail for six months, and a fine of one -hundred dollars and the costs of this action." - -"The jedge talks well, don't he?" whispered one spectator to another. - -"Yes, and kinder likes ter hear hisse'f talk," answered the other. - -"Ben Davis, stand up," ordered the judge. - -He might have said "Ben Davis, wake up," for the jailer had to touch the -prisoner on the shoulder to rouse him from his stupor. He stood up, and -something of the hunted look came again into his eyes, which shifted -under the stern glance of the judge. - -"Ben Davis, you have been convicted of larceny, after a fair trial -before twelve good men of this county. Under the testimony, there can be -no doubt of your guilt. The case is an aggravated one. You are not an -ignorant, shiftless fellow, but a man of more than ordinary intelligence -among your people, and one who ought to know better. You have not even -the poor excuse of having stolen to satisfy hunger or a physical -appetite. Your conduct is wholly without excuse, and I can only regard -your crime as the result of a tendency to offenses of this nature, a -tendency which is only too common among your people; a tendency which is -a menace to civilization, a menace to society itself, for society rests -upon the sacred right of property. Your opinions, too, have been given a -wrong turn; you have been heard to utter sentiments which, if -disseminated among an ignorant people, would breed discontent, and give -rise to strained relations between them and their best friends, their -old masters, who understand their real nature and their real needs, and -to whose justice and enlightened guidance they can safely trust. Have -you anything to say why sentence should not be passed upon you?" - -"Nothin', suh, cep'n dat I did n' take de whip." - -"The law, largely, I think, in view of the peculiar circumstances of -your unfortunate race, has vested a large discretion in courts as to -the extent of the punishment for offenses of this kind. Taking your case -as a whole, I am convinced that it is one which, for the sake of the -example, deserves a severe punishment. Nevertheless, I do not feel -disposed to give you the full extent of the law, which would be twenty -years in the penitentiary,[1] but, considering the fact that you have a -family, and have heretofore borne a good reputation in the community, I -will impose upon you the light sentence of imprisonment for five years -in the penitentiary at hard labor. And I hope that this will be a -warning to you and others who may be similarly disposed, and that after -your sentence has expired you may lead the life of a law-abiding -citizen." - -[Footnote 1: There are no degrees of larceny in North Carolina, and the -penalty for any offense lies in the discretion of the judge, to the -limit of twenty years.] - -"O Ben! O my husband! O God!" moaned the poor wife, and tried to press -forward to her husband's side. - -"Keep back, Nancy, keep back," said the jailer. "You can see him in -jail." - -Several people were looking at Ben's face. There was one flash of -despair, and then nothing but a stony blank, behind which he masked his -real feelings, whatever they were. - -Human character is a compound of tendencies inherited and habits -acquired. In the anxiety, the fear of disgrace, spoke the nineteenth -century civilization with which Ben Davis had been more or less closely -in touch during twenty years of slavery and fifteen years of freedom. In -the stolidity with which he received this sentence for a crime which he -had not committed, spoke who knows what trait of inherited savagery? For -stoicism is a savage virtue. - - - -IV - - -One morning in June, five years later, a black man limped slowly along -the old Lumberton plank road; a tall man, whose bowed shoulders made him -seem shorter than he was, and a face from which it was difficult to -guess his years, for in it the wrinkles and flabbiness of age were found -side by side with firm white teeth, and eyes not sunken,--eyes -bloodshot, and burning with something, either fever or passion. Though -he limped painfully with one foot, the other hit the ground -impatiently, like the good horse in a poorly matched team. As he walked -along, he was talking to himself:---- - -"I wonder what dey 'll do w'en I git back? I wonder how Nancy 's -s'ported the fambly all dese years? Tuck in washin', I s'ppose,--she was -a monst'us good washer an' ironer. I wonder ef de chillun 'll be too -proud ter reco'nize deir daddy come back f'um de penetenchy? I 'spec' -Billy must be a big boy by dis time. He won' b'lieve his daddy ever -stole anything. I 'm gwine ter slip roun' an' s'prise 'em." - -Five minutes later a face peered cautiously into the window of what had -once been Ben Davis's cabin,--at first an eager face, its coarseness lit -up with the fire of hope; a moment later a puzzled face; then an -anxious, fearful face as the man stepped away from the window and rapped -at the door. - -"Is Mis' Davis home?" he asked of the woman who opened the door. - -"Mis' Davis don' live here. You er mistook in de house." - -"Whose house is dis?" - -"It b'longs ter my husban', Mr. Smith,--Primus Smith." - -"'Scuse me, but I knowed de house some years ago w'en I wuz here oncet -on a visit, an' it b'longed ter a man name' Ben Davis." - -"Ben Davis--Ben Davis?--oh yes, I 'member now. Dat wuz de gen'man w'at -wuz sent ter de penitenchy fer sump'n er nuther,--sheep-stealin', I -b'lieve. Primus," she called, "w'at wuz Ben Davis, w'at useter own dis -yer house, sent ter de penitenchy fer?" - -"Hoss-stealin'," came back the reply in sleepy accents, from the man -seated by the fireplace. - -The traveler went on to the next house. A neat-looking yellow woman came -to the door when he rattled the gate, and stood looking suspiciously at -him. - -"W'at you want?" she asked. - -"Please, ma'am, will you tell me whether a man name' Ben Davis useter -live in dis neighborhood?" - -"Useter live in de nex' house; wuz sent ter de penitenchy fer killin' a -man." - -"Kin yer tell me w'at went wid Mis' Davis?" - -"Umph! I 's a 'spectable 'oman, I is, en don' mix wid dem kind er -people. She wuz 'n' no better 'n her husban'. She tuk up wid a man dat -useter wuk fer Ben, an' dey 're livin' down by de ole wagon-ya'd, where -no 'spectable 'oman ever puts her foot." - -"An' de chillen?" - -"De gal 's dead. Wuz 'n' no better 'n she oughter be'n. She fell in de -crick an' got drown'; some folks say she wuz 'n' sober w'en it happen'. -De boy tuck atter his pappy. He wuz 'rested las' week fer shootin' a -w'ite man, an' wuz lynch' de same night. Dey wa'n't none of 'em no -'count after deir pappy went ter de penitenchy." - -"What went wid de proputty?" - -"Hit wuz sol' fer de mortgage, er de taxes, er de lawyer, er sump'n,--I -don' know w'at. A w'ite man got it." - -The man with the bundle went on until he came to a creek that crossed -the road. He descended the sloping bank, and, sitting on a stone in the -shade of a water-oak, took off his coarse brogans, unwound the rags that -served him in lieu of stockings, and laved in the cool water the feet -that were chafed with many a weary mile of travel. - -After five years of unrequited toil, and unspeakable hardship in convict -camps,--five years of slaving by the side of human brutes, and of -nightly herding with them in vermin-haunted huts,--Ben Davis had become -like them. For a while he had received occasional letters from home, but -in the shifting life of the convict camp they had long since ceased to -reach him, if indeed they had been written. For a year or two, the -consciousness of his innocence had helped to make him resist the -debasing influences that surrounded him. The hope of shortening his -sentence by good behavior, too, had worked a similar end. But the -transfer from one contractor to another, each interested in keeping as -long as possible a good worker, had speedily dissipated any such hope. -When hope took flight, its place was not long vacant. Despair followed, -and black hatred of all mankind, hatred especially of the man to whom he -attributed all his misfortunes. One who is suffering unjustly is not apt -to indulge in fine abstractions, nor to balance probabilities. By long -brooding over his wrongs, his mind became, if not unsettled, at least -warped, and he imagined that Colonel Thornton had deliberately set a -trap into which he had fallen. The Colonel, he convinced himself, had -disapproved of his prosperity, and had schemed to destroy it. He -reasoned himself into the belief that he represented in his person the -accumulated wrongs of a whole race, and Colonel Thornton the race who -had oppressed them. A burning desire for revenge sprang up in him, and -he nursed it until his sentence expired and he was set at liberty. What -he had learned since reaching home had changed his desire into a deadly -purpose. - -When he had again bandaged his feet and slipped them into his shoes, he -looked around him, and selected a stout sapling from among the -undergrowth that covered the bank of the stream. Taking from his pocket -a huge clasp-knife, he cut off the length of an ordinary walking stick -and trimmed it. The result was an ugly-looking bludgeon, a dangerous -weapon when in the grasp of a strong man. - -With the stick in his hand, he went on down the road until he approached -a large white house standing some distance back from the street. The -grounds were filled with a profusion of shrubbery. The negro entered the -gate and secreted himself in the bushes, at a point where he could hear -any one that might approach. - -It was near midday, and he had not eaten. He had walked all night, and -had not slept. The hope of meeting his loved ones had been meat and -drink and rest for him. But as he sat waiting, outraged nature asserted -itself, and he fell asleep, with his head on the rising root of a tree, -and his face upturned. - -And as he slept, he dreamed of his childhood; of an old black mammy -taking care of him in the daytime, and of a younger face, with soft -eyes, which bent over him sometimes at night, and a pair of arms which -clasped him closely. He dreamed of his past,--of his young wife, of his -bright children. Somehow his dreams all ran to pleasant themes for a -while. - -Then they changed again. He dreamed that he was in the convict camp, -and, by an easy transition, that he was in hell, consumed with hunger, -burning with thirst. Suddenly the grinning devil who stood over him with -a barbed whip faded away, and a little white angel came and handed him a -drink of water. As he raised it to his lips the glass slipped, and he -struggled back to consciousness. - -"Poo' man! Poo' man sick, an' sleepy. Dolly b'ing Powers to cover poo' -man up. Poo' man mus' be hungry. Wen Dolly get him covered up, she go -b'ing poo' man some cake." - -A sweet little child, as beautiful as a cherub escaped from Paradise, -was standing over him. At first he scarcely comprehended the words the -baby babbled out. But as they became clear to him, a novel feeling crept -slowly over his heart. It had been so long since he had heard anything -but curses and stern words of command, or the ribald songs of obscene -merriment, that the clear tones of this voice from heaven cooled his -calloused heart as the water of the brook had soothed his blistered -feet. It was so strange, so unwonted a thing, that he lay there with -half-closed eyes while the child brought leaves and flowers and laid -them on his face and on his breast, and arranged them with little -caressing taps. - -She moved away, and plucked a flower. And then she spied another farther -on, and then another, and, as she gathered them, kept increasing the -distance between herself and the man lying there, until she was several -rods away. - -Ben Davis watched her through eyes over which had come an unfamiliar -softness. Under the lingering spell of his dream, her golden hair, which -fell in rippling curls, seemed like a halo of purity and innocence and -peace, irradiating the atmosphere around her. It is true the thought -occurred to Ben, vaguely, that through harm to her he might inflict the -greatest punishment upon her father; but the idea came like a dark shape -that faded away and vanished into nothingness as soon as it came within -the nimbus that surrounded the child's person. - -The child was moving on to pluck still another flower, when there came a -sound of hoof-beats, and Ben was aware that a horseman, visible through -the shrubbery, was coming along the curved path that led from the gate -to the house. It must be the man he was waiting for, and now was the -time to wreak his vengeance. He sprang to his feet, grasped his club, -and stood for a moment irresolute. But either the instinct of the -convict, beaten, driven, and debased, or the influence of the child, -which was still strong upon him, impelled him, after the first momentary -pause, to flee as though seeking safety. - -His flight led him toward the little girl, whom he must pass in order -to make his escape, and as Colonel Thornton turned the corner of the -path he saw a desperate-looking negro, clad in filthy rags, and carrying -in his hand a murderous bludgeon, running toward the child, who, -startled by the sound of footsteps, had turned and was looking toward -the approaching man with wondering eyes. A sickening fear came over the -father's heart, and drawing the ever-ready revolver, which according to -the Southern custom he carried always upon his person, he fired with -unerring aim. Ben Davis ran a few yards farther, faltered, threw out his -hands, and fell dead at the child's feet. - - * * * * * - -Some time, we are told, when the cycle of years has rolled around, there -is to be another golden age, when all men will dwell together in love -and harmony, and when peace and righteousness shall prevail for a -thousand years. God speed the day, and let not the shining thread of -hope become so enmeshed in the web of circumstance that we lose sight of -it; but give us here and there, and now and then, some little foretaste -of this golden age, that we may the more patiently and hopefully await -its coming! - - - - -APPENDIX - -Three essays on the Color Line: - -What is a White Man? (1889) - -The Future American (1900) - -The Disfranchisement of the Negro (1903) - - - - -What is a White Man? - - -The fiat having gone forth from the wise men of the South that the -"all-pervading, all-conquering Anglo-Saxon race" must continue forever -to exercise exclusive control and direction of the government of this -so-called Republic, it becomes important to every citizen who values his -birthright to know who are included in this grandiloquent term. It is of -course perfectly obvious that the writer or speaker who used this -expression--perhaps Mr. Grady of Georgia--did not say what he meant. It -is not probable that he meant to exclude from full citizenship the Celts -and Teutons and Gauls and Slavs who make up so large a proportion of our -population; he hardly meant to exclude the Jews, for even the most -ardent fire-eater would hardly venture to advocate the disfranchisement -of the thrifty race whose mortgages cover so large a portion of Southern -soil. What the eloquent gentleman really meant by this high-sounding -phrase was simply the white race; and the substance of the argument of -that school of Southern writers to which he belongs, is simply that for -the good of the country the Negro should have no voice in directing the -government or public policy of the Southern States or of the nation. - -But it is evident that where the intermingling of the races has made -such progress as it has in this country, the line which separates the -races must in many instances have been practically obliterated. And -there has arisen in the United States a very large class of the -population who are certainly not Negroes in an ethnological sense, and -whose children will be no nearer Negroes than themselves. In view, -therefore, of the very positive ground taken by the white leaders of the -South, where most of these people reside, it becomes in the highest -degree important to them to know what race they belong to. It ought to -be also a matter of serious concern to the Southern white people; for if -their zeal for good government is so great that they contemplate the -practical overthrow of the Constitution and laws of the United States to -secure it, they ought at least to be sure that no man entitled to it by -their own argument, is robbed of a right so precious as that of free -citizenship; the "all-pervading, all conquering Anglo-Saxon" ought to -set as high a value on American citizenship as the all-conquering Roman -placed upon the franchise of his State two thousand years ago. This -discussion would of course be of little interest to the genuine Negro, -who is entirely outside of the charmed circle, and must content himself -with the acquisition of wealth, the pursuit of learning and such other -privileges as his "best friends" may find it consistent with the welfare -of the nation to allow him; but to every other good citizen the inquiry -ought to be a momentous one. What is a white man? - -In spite of the virulence and universality of race prejudice in the -United States, the human intellect long ago revolted at the manifest -absurdity of classifying men fifteen-sixteenths white as black men; and -hence there grew up a number of laws in different states of the Union -defining the limit which separated the white and colored races, which -was, when these laws took their rise and is now to a large extent, the -line which separated freedom and opportunity from slavery or hopeless -degradation. Some of these laws are of legislative origin; others are -judge-made laws, brought out by the exigencies of special cases which -came before the courts for determination. Some day they will, perhaps, -become mere curiosities of jurisprudence; the "black laws" will be -bracketed with the "blue laws," and will be at best but landmarks by -which to measure the progress of the nation. But to-day these laws are -in active operation, and they are, therefore, worthy of attention; for -every good citizen ought to know the law, and, if possible, to respect -it; and if not worthy of respect, it should be changed by the authority -which enacted it. Whether any of the laws referred to here have been in -any manner changed by very recent legislation the writer cannot say, but -they are certainly embodied in the latest editions of the revised -statutes of the states referred to. - -The colored people were divided, in most of the Southern States, into -two classes, designated by law as Negroes and mulattoes respectively. -The term Negro was used in its ethnological sense, and needed no -definition; but the term "mulatto" was held by legislative enactment to -embrace all persons of color not Negroes. The words "quadroon" and -"mestizo" are employed in some of the law books, tho not defined; but -the term "octoroon," as indicating a person having one-eighth of Negro -blood, is not used at all, so far as the writer has been able to -observe. - -The states vary slightly in regard to what constitutes a mulatto or -person of color, and as to what proportion of white blood should be -sufficient to remove the disability of color. As a general rule, less -than one-fourth of Negro blood left the individual white--in theory; -race questions being, however, regulated very differently in practice. -In Missouri, by the code of 1855, still in operation, so far as not -inconsistent with the Federal Constitution and laws, "any person other -than a Negro, any one of whose grandmothers or grandfathers is or shall -have been a Negro, tho all of his or her progenitors except those -descended from the Negro may have been white persons, shall be deemed a -mulatto." Thus the color-line is drawn at one-fourth of Negro blood, and -persons with only one-eighth are white. - -By the Mississippi code of 1880, the color-line is drawn at one-fourth -of Negro blood, all persons having less being theoretically white. - -Under the _code noir_ of Louisiana, the descendant of a white and a -quadroon is white, thus drawing the line at one-eighth of Negro blood. -The code of 1876 abolished all distinctions of color; as to whether they -have been re-enacted since the Republican Party went out of power in -that state the writer is not informed. - -Jumping to the extreme North, persons are white within the meaning of -the Constitution of Michigan who have less than one-fourth of Negro -blood. - -In Ohio the rule, as established by numerous decisions of the Supreme -Court, was that a preponderance of white blood constituted a person a -white man in the eye of the law, and entitled him to the exercise of all -the civil rights of a white man. By a retrogressive step the color-line -was extended in 1861 in the case of marriage, which by statute was -forbidden between a person of pure white blood and one having a visible -admixture of African blood. But by act of legislature, passed in the -spring of 1887, all laws establishing or permitting distinctions of -color were repealed. In many parts of the state these laws were always -ignored, and they would doubtless have been repealed long ago but for -the sentiment of the southern counties, separated only by the width of -the Ohio River from a former slave-holding state. There was a bill -introduced in the legislature during the last session to re-enact the -"black laws," but it was hopelessly defeated; the member who introduced -it evidently mistook his latitude; he ought to be a member of the -Georgia legislature. - -But the state which, for several reasons, one might expect to have the -strictest laws in regard to the relations of the races, has really the -loosest. Two extracts from decisions of the Supreme Court of South -Carolina will make clear the law of that state in regard to the color -line. - - The definition of the term mulatto, as understood in this state, - seems to be vague, signifying generally a person of mixed white - or European and Negro parentage, in whatever proportions the blood - of the two races may be mingled in the individual. But it is not - invariably applicable to every admixture of African blood with the - European, nor is one having all the features of a white to be ranked - with the degraded class designated by the laws of this state as - persons of color, because of some remote taint of the Negro race. - The line of distinction, however, is not ascertained by any rule of - law.... Juries would probably be justified in holding a person to - be white in whom the admixture of African blood did not exceed the - proportion of one-eighth. But it is in all cases a question for the - jury, to be determined by them upon the evidence of features and - complexion afforded by inspection, the evidence of reputation as - to parentage, and the evidence of the rank and station in society - occupied by the party. The only rule which can be laid down by the - courts is that where there is a distinct and visible admixture of - Negro blood, the individual is to be denominated a mulatto or person - of color. - -In a later case the court held: "The question whether persons are -colored or white, where color or feature are doubtful, is for the jury -to decide by reputation, by reception into society, and by their -exercise of the privileges of the white man, as well as by admixture of -blood." - -It is an interesting question why such should have been, and should -still be, for that matter, the law of South Carolina, and why there -should exist in that state a condition of public opinion which would -accept such a law. Perhaps it may be attributed to the fact that the -colored population of South Carolina always outnumbered the white -population, and the eagerness of the latter to recruit their ranks was -sufficient to overcome in some measure their prejudice against the Negro -blood. It is certainly true that the color-line is, in practice as in -law, more loosely drawn in South Carolina than in any other Southern -State, and that no inconsiderable element of the population of that -state consists of these legal white persons, who were either born in the -state, or, attracted thither by this feature of the laws, have come in -from surrounding states, and, forsaking home and kindred, have taken -their social position as white people. A reasonable degree of reticence -in regard to one's antecedents is, however, usual in such cases. - -Before the War the color-line, as fixed by law, regulated in theory the -civil and political status of persons of color. What that status was, -was expressed in the Dred Scott decision. But since the War, or rather -since the enfranchisement of the colored people, these laws have been -mainly confined--in theory, be it always remembered--to the regulation -of the intercourse of the races in schools and in the marriage relation. -The extension of the color-line to places of public entertainment and -resort, to inns and public highways, is in most states entirely a matter -of custom. A colored man can sue in the courts of any Southern State for -the violation of his common-law rights, and recover damages of say fifty -cents without costs. A colored minister who sued a Baltimore steamboat -company a few weeks ago for refusing him first-class accommodation, he -having paid first-class fare, did not even meet with that measure of -success; the learned judge, a Federal judge by the way, held that the -plaintiff's rights had been invaded, and that he had suffered -humiliation at the hands of the defendant company, but that "the -humiliation was not sufficient to entitle him to damages." And the -learned judge dismissed the action without costs to either party. - -Having thus ascertained what constitutes a white man, the good citizen -may be curious to know what steps have been taken to preserve the purity -of the white race. Nature, by some unaccountable oversight having to -some extent neglected a matter so important to the future prosperity and -progress of mankind. The marriage laws referred to here are in active -operation, and cases under them are by no means infrequent. Indeed, -instead of being behind the age, the marriage laws in the Southern -States are in advance of public opinion; for very rarely will a Southern -community stop to figure on the pedigree of the contracting parties to a -marriage where one is white and the other is known to have any strain of -Negro blood. - -In Virginia, under the title "Offenses against Morality," the law -provides that "any white person who shall intermarry with a Negro shall -be confined in jail not more than one year and fined not exceeding one -hundred dollars." In a marginal note on the statute-book, attention is -called to the fact that "a similar penalty is not imposed on the -Negro"--a stretch of magnanimity to which the laws of other states are -strangers. A person who performs the ceremony of marriage in such a case -is fined two hundred dollars, one-half of which goes to the informer. - -In Maryland, a minister who performs the ceremony of marriage between a -Negro and a white person is liable to a fine of one hundred dollars. - -In Mississippi, code of 1880, it is provided that "the marriage of a -white person to a Negro or mulatto or person who shall have one-fourth -or more of Negro blood, shall be unlawful"; and as this prohibition does -not seem sufficiently emphatic, it is further declared to be "incestuous -and void," and is punished by the same penalty prescribed for marriage -within the forbidden degrees of consanguinity. - -But it is Georgia, the _alma genetrix_ of the chain-gang, which merits -the questionable distinction of having the harshest set of color laws. -By the law of Georgia the term "person of color" is defined to mean "all -such as have an admixture of Negro blood, and the term 'Negro,' includes -mulattoes." - -This definition is perhaps restricted somewhat by another provision, by -which "all Negroes, mestizoes, and their descendants, having one-eighth -of Negro or mulatto blood in their veins, shall be known in this State -as persons of color." A colored minister is permitted to perform the -ceremony of marriage between colored persons only, tho white ministers -are not forbidden to join persons of color in wedlock. It is further -provided that "the marriage relation between white persons and persons -of African descent is forever prohibited, and such marriages shall be -null and void." This is a very sweeping provision; it will be noticed -that the term "persons of color," previously defined, is not employed, -the expression "persons of African descent" being used instead. A court -which was so inclined would find no difficulty in extending this -provision of the law to the remotest strain of African blood. The -marriage relation is forever prohibited. Forever is a long time. There -is a colored woman in Georgia said to be worth $300,000--an immense -fortune in the poverty stricken South. With a few hundred such women in -that state, possessing a fair degree of good looks, the color-line would -shrivel up like a scroll in the heat of competition for their hands in -marriage. The penalty for the violation of the law against intermarriage -is the same sought to be imposed by the defunct Glenn Bill for violation -of its provisions; i.e., a fine not to exceed one thousand dollars, and -imprisonment not to exceed six months, or twelve months in the -chain-gang. - -Whatever the wisdom or justice of these laws, there is one objection to -them which is not given sufficient prominence in the consideration of -the subject, even where it is discussed at all; they make mixed blood a -_prima-facie_ proof of illegitimacy. It is a fact that at present, in -the United States, a colored man or woman whose complexion is white or -nearly white is presumed, in the absence of any knowledge of his or her -antecedents, to be the offspring of a union not sanctified by law. And -by a curious but not uncommon process, such persons are not held in the -same low estimation as white people in the same position. The sins of -their fathers are not visited upon the children, in that regard at -least; and their mothers' lapses from virtue are regarded either as -misfortunes or as faults excusable under the circumstances. But in spite -of all this, illegitimacy is not a desirable distinction, and is likely -to become less so as these people of mixed blood advance in wealth and -social standing. This presumption of illegitimacy was once, perhaps, -true of the majority of such persons; but the times have changed. More -than half of the colored people of the United States are of mixed blood; -they marry and are given in marriage, and they beget children of -complexions similar to their own. Whether or not, therefore, laws which -stamp these children as illegitimate, and which by indirection establish -a lower standard of morality for a large part of the population than the -remaining part is judged by, are wise laws; and whether or not the -purity of the white race could not be as well preserved by the exercise -of virtue, and the operation of those natural laws which are so often -quoted by Southern writers as the justification of all sorts of Southern -"policies"--are questions which the good citizen may at least turn over -in his mind occasionally, pending the settlement of other complications -which have grown out of the presence of the Negro on this continent. - -_Independent_, May 30, 1889 - - - - -The Future American - - -WHAT THE RACE IS LIKELY TO BECOME IN THE PROCESS OF TIME - -The future American race is a popular theme for essayists, and has been -much discussed. Most expressions upon the subject, however, have been -characterized by a conscious or unconscious evasion of some of the main -elements of the problem involved in the formation of a future American -race, or, to put it perhaps more correctly, a future ethnic type that -shall inhabit the northern part of the western continent. Some of these -obvious omissions will be touched upon in these articles; and if the -writer has any preconceived opinions that would affect his judgment, -they are at least not the hackneyed prejudices of the past--if they lead -to false conclusions, they at least furnish a new point of view, from -which, taken with other widely differing views, the judicious reader may -establish a parallax that will enable him to approximate the truth. - -The popular theory is that the future American race will consist of a -harmonious fusion of the various European elements which now make up our -heterogeneous population. The result is to be something infinitely -superior to the best of the component elements. This perfection of -type--no good American could for a moment doubt that it will be as -perfect as everything else American--is to be brought about by a -combination of all the best characteristics of the different European -races, and the elimination, by some strange alchemy, of all their -undesirable traits--for even a good American will admit that European -races, now and then, have some undesirable traits when they first come -over. It is a beautiful, a hopeful, and to the eye of faith, a thrilling -prospect. The defect of the argument, however, lies in the -incompleteness of the premises, and its obliviousness of certain facts -of human nature and human history. - -Before putting forward any theory upon the subject, it may be well -enough to remark that recent scientific research has swept away many -hoary anthropological fallacies. It has been demonstrated that the shape -or size of the head has little or nothing to do with the civilization or -average intelligence of a race; that language, so recently lauded as an -infallible test of racial origin is of absolutely no value in this -connection, its distribution being dependent upon other conditions than -race. Even color, upon which the social structure of the United States -is so largely based, has been proved no test of race. The conception of -a pure Aryan, Indo-European race has been abandoned in scientific -circles, and the secret of the progress of Europe has been found in -racial heterogeneity, rather than in racial purity. The theory that the -Jews are a pure race has been exploded, and their peculiar type -explained upon a different and much more satisfactory hypothesis. To -illustrate the change of opinion and the growth of liberality in -scientific circles, imagine the reception which would have been accorded -to this proposition, if laid down by an American writer fifty or sixty -years ago: "The European races, as a whole, show signs of a secondary or -derived origin; certain characteristics, especially the texture of the -hair, lead us to class them as intermediate between the extreme primary -types of the Asiatic and Negro races respectively." This is put forward -by the author, not as a mere hypothesis, but as a proposition fairly -susceptible of proof, and is supported by an elaborate argument based -upon microscopical comparisons, to which numerous authorities are cited. -If this fact be borne in mind it will simplify in some degree our -conception of a future American ethnic type. - -By modern research the unity of the human race has been proved (if it -needed any proof to the careful or fair-minded observer), and the -differentiation of races by selection and environment has been so stated -as to prove itself. Greater emphasis has been placed upon environment as -a factor in ethnic development, and what has been called "the vulgar -theory of race," as accounting for progress and culture, has been -relegated to the limbo of exploded dogmas. One of the most perspicuous -and forceful presentations of these modern conclusions of anthropology -is found in the volume above quoted, a book which owes its origin to a -Boston scholar. - -Proceeding then upon the firm basis laid down by science and the -historic parallel, it ought to be quite clear that the future American -race--the future American ethnic type--will be formed of a mingling, in -a yet to be ascertained proportion, of the various racial varieties -which make up the present population of the United States; or, to extend -the area a little farther, of the various peoples of the northern -hemisphere of the western continent; for, if certain recent tendencies -are an index of the future it is not safe to fix the boundaries of the -future United States anywhere short of the Arctic Ocean on the north and -the Isthmus of Panama on the south. But, even with the continuance of -the present political divisions, conditions of trade and ease of travel -are likely to gradually assimilate to one type all the countries of the -hemisphere. Assuming that the country is so well settled that no great -disturbance of ratios is likely to result from immigration, or any -serious conflict of races, we may safely build our theory of a future -American race upon the present population of the country. I use the word -"race" here in its popular sense--that of a people who look -substantially alike, and are moulded by the same culture and dominated -by the same ideals. - -By the eleventh census, the ratios of which will probably not be changed -materially by the census now under way, the total population of the -United States was about 65,000,000, of which about seven million were -black and colored, and something over 200,000 were of Indian blood. It -is then in the three broad types--white, black and Indian--that the -future American race will find the material for its formation. Any dream -of a pure white race, of the Anglo-Saxon type, for the United States, -may as well be abandoned as impossible, even if desirable. That such -future race will be predominantly white may well be granted--unless -climate in the course of time should modify existing types; that it will -call itself white is reasonably sure; that it will conform closely to -the white type is likely; but that it will have absorbed and assimilated -the blood of the other two races mentioned is as certain as the -operation of any law well can be that deals with so uncertain a quantity -as the human race. - -There are no natural obstacles to such an amalgamation. The unity of the -race is not only conceded but demonstrated by actual crossing. Any -theory of sterility due to race crossing may as well be abandoned; it is -founded mainly on prejudice and cannot be proved by the facts. If it -come from Northern or European sources, it is likely to be weakened by -lack of knowledge; if from Southern sources, it is sure to be colored -by prejudices. My own observation is that in a majority of cases people -of mixed blood are very prolific and very long-lived. The admixture of -races in the United States has never taken place under conditions likely -to produce the best results but there have nevertheless been enough -conspicuous instances to the contrary in this country, to say nothing of -a long and honorable list in other lands, to disprove the theory that -people of mixed blood, other things being equal, are less virile, -prolific or able than those of purer strains. But whether this be true -or not is apart from this argument. Admitting that races may mix, and -that they are thrown together under conditions which permit their -admixture, the controlling motive will be not abstract considerations -with regard to a remote posterity, but present interest and inclination. - -The Indian element in the United States proper is so small -proportionally--about one in three hundred--and the conditions for its -amalgamation so favorable, that it would of itself require scarcely any -consideration in this argument. There is no prejudice against the Indian -blood, in solution. A half or quarter-breed, removed from the tribal -environment, is freely received among white people. After the second or -third remove he may even boast of his Indian descent; it gives him a -sort of distinction, and involves no social disability. The distribution -of the Indian race, however, tends to make the question largely a local -one, and the survival of tribal relation may postpone the results for -some little time. It will be, however, the fault of the United States -Indian himself if he be not speedily amalgamated with the white -population. - -The Indian element, however, looms up larger when we include Mexico and -Central America in our fields of discussion. By the census of Mexico -just completed, over eighty per cent of the population is composed of -mixed and Indian races. The remainder is presumably of pure Spanish, or -European blood, with a dash of Negro along the coast. The population is -something over twelve millions, thus adding nine millions of Indians and -Mestizos to be taken into account. Add several millions of similar -descent in Central America, a million in Porto Rico, who are said to -have an aboriginal strain, and it may safely be figured that the Indian -element will be quite considerable in the future American race. Its -amalgamation will involve no great difficulty, however; it has been -going on peacefully in the countries south of us for several centuries, -and is likely to continue along similar lines. The peculiar disposition -of the American to overlook mixed blood in a foreigner will simplify the -gradual absorption of these Southern races. - -The real problem, then, the only hard problem in connection with the -future American race, lies in the Negro element of our population. As I -have said before, I believe it is destined to play its part in the -formation of this new type. The process by which this will take place -will be no sudden and wholesale amalgamation--a thing certainly not to -be expected, and hardly to be desired. If it were held desirable, and -one could imagine a government sufficiently autocratic to enforce its -behests, it would be no great task to mix the races mechanically, -leaving to time merely the fixing of the resultant type. - -Let us for curiosity outline the process. To start with, the Negroes are -already considerably mixed--many of them in large proportion, and most -of them in some degree--and the white people, as I shall endeavor to -show later on, are many of them slightly mixed with the Negro. But we -will assume, for the sake of the argument, that the two races are -absolutely pure. We will assume, too, that the laws of the whole country -were as favorable to this amalgamation as the laws of most Southern -States are at present against it; i.e., that it were made a misdemeanor -for two white or two colored persons to marry, so long as it was -possible to obtain a mate of the other race--this would be even more -favorable than the Southern rule, which makes no such exception. Taking -the population as one-eighth Negro, this eighth, married to an equal -number of whites, would give in the next generation a population of -which one-fourth would be mulattoes. Mating these in turn with white -persons, the next generation would be composed one-half of quadroons, or -persons one-fourth Negro. In the third generation, applying the same -rule, the entire population would be composed of octoroons, or persons -only one-eighth Negro, who would probably call themselves white, if by -this time there remained any particular advantage in being so -considered. Thus in three generations the pure whites would be entirely -eliminated, and there would be no perceptible trace of the blacks left. - -The mechanical mixture would be complete; as it would probably be put, -the white race would have absorbed the black. There would be no inferior -race to domineer over; there would be no superior race to oppress those -who differed from them in racial externals. The inevitable social -struggle, which in one form or another, seems to be one of the -conditions of progress, would proceed along other lines than those of -race. If now and then, for a few generations, an occasional trace of the -black ancestor should crop out, no one would care, for all would be -tarred with the same stick. This is already the case in South America, -parts of Mexico and to a large extent in the West Indies. From a Negroid -nation, which ours is already, we would have become a composite and -homogeneous people, and the elements of racial discord which have -troubled our civil life so gravely and still threaten our free -institutions, would have been entirely eliminated. - -But this will never happen. The same result will be brought about slowly -and obscurely, and, if the processes of nature are not too violently -interrupted by the hand of man, in such a manner as to produce the best -results with the least disturbance of natural laws. In another article I -shall endeavor to show that this process has been taking place with -greater rapidity than is generally supposed, and that the results have -been such as to encourage the belief that the formation of a uniform -type out of our present racial elements will take place within a -measurably near period. - -_Boston Evening Transcript_, August 18, 1900 - - -A STREAM OF DARK BLOOD IN THE VEINS OF THE SOUTHERN WHITES - -I have said that the formation of the new American race type will take -place slowly and obscurely for some time to come, after the manner of -all healthy changes in nature. I may go further and say that this -process has already been going on ever since the various races in the -Western world have been brought into juxtaposition. Slavery was a rich -soil for the production of a mixed race, and one need only read the -literature and laws of the past two generations to see how steadily, -albeit slowly and insidiously, the stream of dark blood has insinuated -itself into the veins of the dominant, or, as a Southern critic recently -described it in a paragraph that came under my eye, the "domineering" -race. The Creole stories of Mr. Cable and other writers were not mere -figments of the imagination; the beautiful octoroon was a corporeal -fact; it is more than likely that she had brothers of the same -complexion, though curiously enough the male octoroon has cut no figure -in fiction, except in the case of the melancholy Honoré Grandissime, -f.m.c; and that she and her brothers often crossed the invisible but -rigid color line was an historical fact that only an ostrich-like -prejudice could deny. - -Grace King's "Story of New Orleans" makes the significant statement that -the quadroon women of that city preferred white fathers for their -children, in order that these latter might become white and thereby be -qualified to enter the world of opportunity. More than one of the best -families of Louisiana has a dark ancestral strain. A conspicuous -American family of Southwestern extraction, which recently contributed a -party to a brilliant international marriage, is known, by the -well-informed, to be just exactly five generations removed from a Negro -ancestor. One member of this family, a distinguished society leader, has -been known, upon occasion, when some question of the rights or -privileges of the colored race came up, to show a very noble sympathy -for her distant kinsmen. If American prejudice permitted her and others -to speak freely of her pedigree, what a tower of strength her name and -influence would be to a despised and struggling race! - -A distinguished American man of letters, now resident in Europe, who -spent many years in North Carolina, has said to the writer that he had -noted, in the course of a long life, at least a thousand instances of -white persons known or suspected to possess a strain of Negro blood. An -amusing instance of this sort occurred a year or two ago. It was -announced through the newspapers, whose omniscience of course no one -would question, that a certain great merchant of Chicago was a mulatto. -This gentleman had a large dry goods trade in the South, notably in -Texas. Shortly after the publication of the item reflecting on the -immaculateness of the merchant's descent, there appeared in the Texas -newspapers, among the advertising matter, a statement from the Chicago -merchant characterizing the rumor as a malicious falsehood, concocted by -his rivals in business, and incidentally calling attention to the -excellent bargains offered to retailers and jobbers at his great -emporium. A counter-illustration is found in the case of a certain -bishop, recently elected, of the African Methodist Episcopal Church, who -is accused of being a white man. A colored editor who possesses the -saving grace of humor, along with other talents of a high order, gravely -observed, in discussing this rumor, that "the poor man could not help -it, even if he were white, and that a fact for which he was in no wise -responsible should not be allowed to stand in the way of his -advancement." - -During a residence in North Carolina in my youth and early manhood I -noted many curious phases of the race problem. I have in mind a family -of three sisters so aggressively white that the old popular Southern -legend that they were the unacknowledged children of white parents was -current concerning them. There was absolutely not the slightest earmark -of the Negro about them. It may be stated here, as another race fallacy, -that the "telltale dark mark at the root of the nails," supposed to be -an infallible test of Negro blood, is a delusion and a snare, and of no -value whatever as a test of race. It belongs with the grewsome -superstition that a woman apparently white may give birth to a -coal-black child by a white father. Another instance that came under my -eye was that of a very beautiful girl with soft, wavy brown hair, who is -now living in a Far Western State as the wife of a white husband. A -typical case was that of a family in which the tradition of Negro origin -had persisted long after all trace of it had disappeared. The family -took its origin from a white ancestress, and had consequently been free -for several generations. The father of the first colored child, counting -the family in the female line--the only way it could be counted--was a -mulatto. A second infusion of white blood, this time on the paternal -side, resulted in offspring not distinguishable from pure white. One -child of this generation emigrated to what was then the Far West, -married a white woman and reared a large family, whose descendants, now -in the fourth or fifth remove from the Negro, are in all probability -wholly unaware of their origin. A sister of this pioneer emigrant -remained in the place of her birth and formed an irregular union with a -white man of means, with whom she lived for many years and for whom she -bore a large number of children, who became about evenly divided between -white and colored, fixing their status by the marriages they made. One -of the daughters, for instance, married a white man and reared in a -neighboring county a family of white children, who, in all probability, -were as active as any one else in the recent ferocious red-shirt -campaign to disfranchise the Negroes. - -In this same town there was stationed once, before the war, at the -Federal arsenal there located, an officer who fell in love with a "white -Negro" girl, as our Southern friends impartially dub them. This officer -subsequently left the army, and carried away with him to the North the -whole family of his inamorata. He married the woman, and their -descendants, who live in a large Western city, are not known at all as -persons of color, and show no trace of their dark origin. - -Two notable bishops of the Roman Catholic communion in the United States -are known to be the sons of a slave mother and a white father, who, -departing from the usual American rule, gave his sons freedom, education -and a chance in life, instead of sending them to the auction block. -Colonel T.W. Higginson, in his _Cheerful Yesterdays_, relates the story -of a white colored woman whom he assisted in her escape from slavery or -its consequences, who married a white man in the vicinity of Boston and -lost her identity with the colored race. How many others there must be -who know of similar instances! Grace King, in her "Story of New -Orleans," to which I have referred, in speaking of a Louisiana law which -required the public records, when dealing with persons of color, always -to specify the fact of color, in order, so far had the admixture of -races gone, to distinguish them from whites, says: "But the officers of -the law could be bribed, and the qualification once dropped acted, -inversely, as a patent of pure blood." - -A certain well-known Shakspearean actress has a strain of Negro blood, -and a popular leading man under a well-known manager is similarly -gifted. It would be interesting to give their names, but would probably -only injure them. If they could themselves speak of their origin, -without any unpleasant consequences, it would be a handsome thing for -the colored race. That they do not is no reproach to them; they are -white to all intents and purposes, even by the curious laws of the -curious States from which they derived their origin, and are in all -conscience entitled to any advantage accompanying this status. - -Anyone at all familiar with the hopes and aspirations of the colored -race, as expressed, for instance, in their prolific newspaper -literature, must have perceived the wonderful inspiration which they -have drawn from the career of a few distinguished Europeans of partial -Negro ancestry, who have felt no call, by way of social prejudice, to -deny or conceal their origin, or to refuse their sympathy to those who -need it so much. Pushkin, the Russian Shakspeare, had a black ancestor. -One of the chief editors of the London _Times_, who died a few years -ago, was a West Indian colored man, who had no interest in concealing -the fact. One of the generals of the British army is similarly favored, -although the fact is not often referred to. General Alfred Dodds, the -ranking general of the French army, now in command in China, is a -quadroon. The poet, Robert Browning, was of West Indian origin, and some -of his intimate personal friends maintained and proved to their own -satisfaction that he was partly of Negro descent. Mr. Browning always -said that he did not know; that there was no family tradition to that -effect; but if it could be demonstrated he would admit it freely enough, -if it would reflect any credit upon a race who needed it so badly. - -The most conspicuous of the Eurafricans (to coin a word) were the Dumas -family, who were distinguished for three generations. The mulatto, -General Dumas, won distinction in the wars under the Revolution. His -son, the famous Alexandre Dumas _père_, has delighted several -generations with his novels, and founded a school of fiction. His son, -Alexandre _fils_, novelist and dramatist, was as supreme in his own line -as his father had been in his. Old Alexandre gives his pedigree in -detail in his memoirs; and the Negro origin of the family is set out in -every encyclopaedia. Nevertheless, in a literary magazine of recent -date, published in New York, it was gravely stated by a writer that -"there was a rumor, probably not well founded, that the author of -Monte-Cristo had a very distant strain of Negro blood." If this had been -written with reference to some living American of obscure origin, its -point might be appreciated; but such extreme delicacy in stating so -widely known a fact appeals to one's sense of humor. - -These European gentlemen could be outspoken about their origin, because -it carried with it no social stigma or disability whatever. When such a -state of public opinion exists in the United States, there may be a -surprising revision of pedigrees! - -A little incident that occurred not long ago near Boston will illustrate -the complexity of these race relations. Three light-colored men, -brothers, by the name, we will say, of Green, living in a Boston suburb, -married respectively a white, a brown and a black woman. The children -with the white mother became known as white, and associated with white -people. The others were frankly colored. By a not unlikely coincidence, -in the course of time the children of the three families found -themselves in the same public school. Curiously enough, one afternoon -the three sets of Green children--the white Greens, the brown Greens and -the black Greens--were detained after school, and were all directed to -report to a certain schoolroom, where they were assigned certain tasks -at the blackboards about the large room. Still more curiously, most of -the teachers of the school happened to have business in this particular -room on that particular afternoon, and all of them seemed greatly -interested in the Green children. - -"Well, well, did you ever! Just think of it! And they are all first -cousins!" was remarked audibly. - -The children were small, but they lived in Boston, and were, of course, -as became Boston children, preternaturally intelligent for their years. -They reported to their parents the incident and a number of remarks of a -similar tenor to the one above quoted. The result was a complaint to the -school authorities, and a reprimand to several teachers. A curious -feature of the affair lay in the source from which the complaint -emanated. One might suppose it to have come from the white Greens; but -no, they were willing that the incident should pass unnoticed and be -promptly forgotten; publicity would only advertise a fact which would -work to their social injury. The dark Greens rather enjoyed the affair; -they had nothing to lose; they had no objections to being known as the -cousins of the others, and experienced a certain not unnatural pleasure -in their discomfiture. The complaint came from the brown Greens. The -reader can figure out the psychology of it for himself. - -A more certain proof of the fact that Negro blood is widely distributed -among the white people may be found in the laws and judicial decisions -of the various States. Laws, as a rule, are not made until demanded by a -sufficient number of specific cases to call for a general rule; and -judicial decisions of course are never announced except as the result of -litigation over contested facts. There is no better index of the -character and genius of a people than their laws. - -In North Carolina, marriage between white persons and free persons of -color was lawful until 1830. By the Missouri code of 1855, the color -line was drawn at one-fourth of Negro blood, and persons of only -one-eighth were legally white. The same rule was laid down by the -Mississippi code of 1880. Under the old code noir of Louisiana, the -descendant of a white and a quadroon was white. Under these laws many -persons currently known as "colored," or, more recently as "Negro," -would be legally white if they chose to claim and exercise the -privilege. In Ohio, before the Civil War, a person more than half-white -was legally entitled to all the rights of a white man. In South -Carolina, the line of cleavage was left somewhat indefinite; the color -line was drawn tentatively at one-fourth of Negro blood, but this was -not held conclusive. - -"The term 'mulatto'," said the Supreme Court of that State in a reported -case, "is not invariably applicable to every admixture of African blood -with the European, nor is one having all the features of a white to be -ranked with the degraded class designated by the laws of the State as -persons of color, because of some remote taint of the Negro race.... The -question whether persons are colored or white, where color or feature is -doubtful, is for the jury to determine by reputation, by reception into -society, and by their exercises of the privileges of a white man, as -well as by admixture of blood." - -It is well known that this liberality of view grew out of widespread -conditions in the State, which these decisions in their turn tended to -emphasize. They were probably due to the large preponderance of colored -people in the State, which rendered the whites the more willing to -augment their own number. There are many interesting color-line -decisions in the reports of the Southern courts, which space will not -permit the mention of. - -In another article I shall consider certain conditions which retard the -development of the future American race type which I have suggested, as -well as certain other tendencies which are likely to promote it. - -_Boston Evening Transcript_, August 25, 1900 - - -A COMPLETE RACE-AMALGAMATION LIKELY TO OCCUR - -I have endeavored in two former letters to set out the reasons why it -seems likely that the future American ethnic type will be formed by a -fusion of all the various races now peopling this continent, and to show -that this process has been under way, slowly but surely, like all -evolutionary movements, for several hundred years. I wish now to consider -some of the conditions which will retard this fusion, as well as certain -other facts which tend to promote it. - -The Indian phase of the problem, so far at least as the United States is -concerned, has been practically disposed of in what has already been -said. The absorption of the Indians will be delayed so long as the -tribal relations continue, and so long as the Indians are treated as -wards of the Government, instead of being given their rights once for -all, and placed upon the footing of other citizens. It is presumed that -this will come about as the wilder Indians are educated and by the -development of the country brought into closer contact with -civilization, which must happen before a very great while. As has been -stated, there is no very strong prejudice against the Indian blood; a -well-stocked farm or a comfortable fortune will secure a white husband -for a comely Indian girl any day, with some latitude, and there is no -evidence of any such strong race instinct or organization as will make -the Indians of the future wish to perpetuate themselves as a small and -insignificant class in a great population, thus emphasizing distinctions -which would be overlooked in the case of the individual. - -The Indian will fade into the white population as soon as he chooses, -and in the United States proper the slender Indian strain will ere long -leave no trace discoverable by anyone but the anthropological expert. In -New Mexico and Central America, on the contrary, the chances seem to be -that the Indian will first absorb the non-indigenous elements, unless, -which is not unlikely, European immigration shall increase the white -contingent. - -The Negro element remains, then, the only one which seems likely to -present any difficulty of assimilation. The main obstacle that retards -the absorption of the Negro into the general population is the -apparently intense prejudice against color which prevails in the United -States. This prejudice loses much of its importance, however, when it is -borne in mind that it is almost purely local and does not exist in quite -the same form anywhere else in the world, except among the Boers of -South Africa, where it prevails in an even more aggravated form; and, as -I shall endeavor to show, this prejudice in the United States is more -apparent than real, and is a caste prejudice which is merely accentuated -by differences of race. At present, however, I wish to consider it -merely as a deterrent to amalgamation. - -This prejudice finds forcible expression in the laws which prevail in -all the Southern States, without exception, forbidding the intermarriage -of white persons and persons of color--these last being generally -defined within certain degrees. While it is evident that such laws alone -will not prevent the intermingling of races, which goes merrily on in -spite of them, it is equally apparent that this placing of mixed -marriages beyond the pale of the law is a powerful deterrent to any -honest or dignified amalgamation. Add to this legal restriction, which -is enforced by severe penalties, the social odium accruing to the white -party to such a union, and it may safely be predicted that so long as -present conditions prevail in the South, there will be little marrying -or giving in marriage between persons of different race. So ferocious -is this sentiment against intermarriage, that in a recent Missouri case, -where a colored man ran away with and married a young white woman, the -man was pursued by a "posse"--a word which is rapidly being debased from -its proper meaning by its use in the attempt to dignify the character of -lawless Southern mobs--and shot to death; the woman was tried and -convicted of the "crime" of "miscegenation"--another honest word which -the South degrades along with the Negro. - -Another obstacle to race fusion lies in the drastic and increasing -proscriptive legislation by which the South attempts to keep the white -and colored races apart in every place where their joint presence might -be taken to imply equality; or, to put it more directly, the persistent -effort to degrade the Negro to a distinctly and permanently inferior -caste. This is undertaken by means of separate schools, separate -railroad and street cars, political disfranchisement, debasing and -abhorrent prison systems, and an unflagging campaign of calumny, by -which the vices and shortcomings of the Negroes are grossly magnified -and their virtues practically lost sight of. The popular argument that -the Negro ought to develop his own civilization, and has no right to -share in that of the white race, unless by favor, comes with poor grace -from those who are forcing their civilization upon others at the -cannon's mouth; it is, moreover, uncandid and unfair. The white people -of the present generation did not make their civilization; they -inherited it ready-made, and much of the wealth which is so strong a -factor in their power was created by the unpaid labor of the colored -people. The present generation has, however, brought to a high state of -development one distinctively American institution, for which it is -entitled to such credit as it may wish to claim; I refer to the custom -of lynching, with its attendant horrors. - -The principal deterrent to race admixture, however, is the low -industrial and social efficiency of the colored race. If it be conceded -that these are the result of environment, then their cause is not far to -seek, and the cure is also in sight. Their poverty, their ignorance and -their servile estate render them as yet largely ineligible for social -fusion with a race whose pride is fed not only by the record of its -achievements but by a constant comparison with a less developed and -less fortunate race, which it has held so long in subjection. - -The forces that tend to the future absorption of the black race are, -however, vastly stronger than those arrayed against it. As experience -has demonstrated, slavery was favorable to the mixing of races. The -growth, under healthy civil conditions, of a large and self-respecting -colored citizenship would doubtless tend to lessen the clandestine -association of the two races; but the effort to degrade the Negro may -result, if successful, in a partial restoration of the old status. But, -assuming that the present anti-Negro legislation is but a temporary -reaction, then the steady progress of the colored race in wealth and -culture and social efficiency will, in the course of time, materially -soften the asperities of racial prejudice and permit them to approach -the whites more closely, until, in time, the prejudice against -intermarriage shall have been overcome by other considerations. - -It is safe to say that the possession of a million dollars, with the -ability to use it to the best advantage, would throw such a golden glow -over a dark complexion as to override anything but a very obdurate -prejudice. Mr. Spahr, in his well-studied and impartial book on -_America's Working People_, states as his conclusion, after a careful -study of conditions in the South, that the most advanced third of the -Negroes of that section has already, in one generation of limited -opportunity, passed in the race of life the least advanced third of the -whites. To pass the next third will prove a more difficult task, no -doubt, but the Negroes will have the impetus of their forward movement -to push them ahead. - -The outbreaks of race prejudice in recent years are the surest evidence -of the Negro's progress. No effort is required to keep down a race which -manifests no desire nor ability to rise; but with each new forward -movement of the colored race it is brought into contact with the whites -at some fresh point, which evokes a new manifestation of prejudice until -custom has adjusted things to the new condition. When all Negroes were -poor and ignorant they could be denied their rights with impunity. As -they grow in knowledge and in wealth they become more self-assertive, -and make it correspondingly troublesome for those who would ignore their -claims. It is much easier, by a supreme effort, as recently attempted -with temporary success in North Carolina, to knock the race down and rob -it of its rights once for all, than to repeat the process from day to -day and with each individual; it saves wear and tear on the conscience, -and makes it easy to maintain a superiority which it might in the course -of a short time require some little effort to keep up. - -This very proscription, however, political and civil at the South, -social all over the country, varying somewhat in degree, will, unless -very soon relaxed, prove a powerful factor in the mixture of the races. -If it is only by becoming white that colored people and their children -are to enjoy the rights and dignities of citizenship, they will have -every incentive to "lighten the breed," to use a current phrase, that -they may claim the white man's privileges as soon as possible. That this -motive is already at work may be seen in the enormous extent to which -certain "face bleachers" and "hair straighteners" are advertised in the -newspapers printed for circulation among the colored people. The most -powerful factor in achieving any result is the wish to bring it about. -The only thing that ever succeeded in keeping two races separated when -living on the same soil--the only true ground of caste--is religion, and -as has been alluded to in the case of the Jews, this is only -superficially successful. The colored people are the same as the whites -in religion; they have the same standards and mediums of culture, the -same ideals, and the presence of the successful white race as a constant -incentive to their ambition. The ultimate result is not difficult to -foresee. The races will be quite as effectively amalgamated by -lightening the Negroes as they would be by darkening the whites. It is -only a social fiction, indeed, which makes of a person seven-eighths -white a Negro; he is really much more a white man. - -The hope of the Negro, so far as the field of moral sympathy and support -in his aspirations is concerned, lies, as always, chiefly in the North. -There the forces which tend to his elevation are, in the main, allowed -their natural operation. The exaggerated zeal with which the South is -rushing to degrade the Negro is likely to result, as in the case of -slavery, in making more friends for him at the North; and if the North -shall not see fit to interfere forcibly with Southern legislation, it -may at least feel disposed to emphasize, by its own liberality, its -disapproval of Southern injustice and barbarity. - -An interesting instance of the difference between the North and the -South in regard to colored people, may be found in two cases which -only last year came up for trial in two adjoining border States. A -colored man living in Maryland went over to Washington and married a -white woman. The marriage was legal in Washington. When they returned -to their Maryland home they were arrested for the crime of -"miscegenation"--perhaps it is only a misdemeanor in Maryland--and -sentenced to fine and imprisonment, the penalty of extra-judicial death -not extending so far North. The same month a couple, one white and one -colored, were arrested in New Jersey for living in adultery. They were -found guilty by the court, but punishment was withheld upon a promise -that they would marry immediately; or, as some cynic would undoubtedly -say, the punishment was commuted from imprisonment to matrimony. - -The adding to our territories of large areas populated by dark races, -some of them already liberally dowered with Negro blood, will enhance -the relative importance of the non-Caucasian elements of the population, -and largely increase the flow of dark blood toward the white race, until -the time shall come when distinctions of color shall lose their -importance, which will be but the prelude to a complete racial fusion. - -The formation of this future American race is not a pressing problem. -Because of the conditions under which it must take place, it is likely -to be extremely slow--much slower, indeed, in our temperate climate and -highly organized society, than in the American tropics and sub-tropics, -where it is already well under way, if not a _fait accompli_. That -it must come in the United States, sooner or later, seems to be a foregone -conclusion, as the result of natural law--_lex dura, sed tamen lex_--a -hard pill, but one which must be swallowed. There can manifestly be no -such thing as a peaceful and progressive civilization in a nation -divided by two warring races, and homogeneity of type, at least in -externals, is a necessary condition of harmonious social progress. - -If this, then, must come, the development and progress of all the -constituent elements of the future American race is of the utmost -importance as bearing upon the quality of the resultant type. The white -race is still susceptible of some improvement; and if, in time, the more -objectionable Negro traits are eliminated, and his better qualities -correspondingly developed, his part in the future American race may well -be an important and valuable one. - -_Boston Evening Transcript_, September 1, 1900 - - - - -The Disfranchisement of the Negro - - -The right of American citizens of African descent, commonly called -Negroes, to vote upon the same terms as other citizens of the United -States, is plainly declared and firmly fixed by the Constitution. No -such person is called upon to present reasons why he should possess this -right: that question is foreclosed by the Constitution. The object of -the elective franchise is to give representation. So long as the -Constitution retains its present form, any State Constitution, or -statute, which seeks, by juggling the ballot, to deny the colored race -fair representation, is a clear violation of the fundamental law of the -land, and a corresponding injustice to those thus deprived of this -right. - -For thirty-five years this has been the law. As long as it was -measurably respected, the colored people made rapid strides in -education, wealth, character and self-respect. This the census proves, -all statements to the contrary notwithstanding. A generation has grown -to manhood and womanhood under the great, inspiring freedom conferred by -the Constitution and protected by the right of suffrage--protected in -large degree by the mere naked right, even when its exercise was -hindered or denied by unlawful means. They have developed, in every -Southern community, good citizens, who, if sustained and encouraged by -just laws and liberal institutions, would greatly augment their number -with the passing years, and soon wipe out the reproach of ignorance, -unthrift, low morals and social inefficiency, thrown at them -indiscriminately and therefore unjustly, and made the excuse for the -equally undiscriminating contempt of their persons and their rights. -They have reduced their illiteracy nearly 50 per cent. Excluded from the -institutions of higher learning in their own States, their young men -hold their own, and occasionally carry away honors, in the universities -of the North. They have accumulated three hundred million dollars worth -of real and personal property. Individuals among them have acquired -substantial wealth, and several have attained to something like national -distinction in art, letters and educational leadership. They are -numerously represented in the learned professions. Heavily handicapped, -they have made such rapid progress that the suspicion is justified that -their advancement, rather than any stagnation or retrogression, is the -true secret of the virulent Southern hostility to their rights, which -has so influenced Northern opinion that it stands mute, and leaves the -colored people, upon whom the North conferred liberty, to the tender -mercies of those who have always denied their fitness for it. - -It may be said, in passing, that the word "Negro," where used in this -paper, is used solely for convenience. By the census of 1890 there were -1,000,000 colored people in the country who were half, or more than -half, white, and logically there must be, as in fact there are, so many -who share the white blood in some degree, as to justify the assertion -that the race problem in the United States concerns the welfare and the -status of a mixed race. Their rights are not one whit the more sacred -because of this fact; but in an argument where injustice is sought to be -excused because of fundamental differences of race, it is well enough to -bear in mind that the race whose rights and liberties are endangered all -over this country by disfranchisement at the South, are the colored -people who live in the United States to-day, and not the lowbrowed, -man-eating savage whom the Southern white likes to set upon a block and -contrast with Shakespeare and Newton and Washington and Lincoln. - -Despite and in defiance of the Federal Constitution, to-day in the six -Southern States of Mississippi, Louisiana, Alabama, North Carolina, -South Carolina and Virginia, containing an aggregate colored population -of about 6,000,000, these have been, to all intents and purposes, -denied, so far as the States can effect it, the right to vote. This -disfranchisement is accomplished by various methods, devised with much -transparent ingenuity, the effort being in each instance to violate the -spirit of the Federal Constitution by disfranchising the Negro, while -seeming to respect its letter by avoiding the mention of race or color. - -These restrictions fall into three groups. The first comprises a -property qualification--the ownership of $300 worth or more of real or -personal property (Alabama, Louisiana, Virginia and South Carolina); the -payment of a poll tax (Mississippi, North Carolina, Virginia); an -educational qualification--the ability to read and write (Alabama, -Louisiana, North Carolina). Thus far, those who believe in a restricted -suffrage everywhere, could perhaps find no reasonable fault with any one -of these qualifications, applied either separately or together. - -But the Negro has made such progress that these restrictions alone would -perhaps not deprive him of effective representation. Hence the second -group. This comprises an "understanding" clause--the applicant must be -able "to read, or understand when read to him, any clause in the -Constitution" (Mississippi), or to read and explain, or to understand -and explain when read to him, any section of the Constitution -(Virginia); an employment qualification--the voter must be regularly -employed in some lawful occupation (Alabama); a character -qualification--the voter must be a person of good character and who -"understands the duties and obligations of citizens under a republican -[!] form of government" (Alabama). The qualifications under the first -group it will be seen, are capable of exact demonstration; those under -the second group are left to the discretion and judgment of the -registering officer--for in most instances these are all requirements -for registration, which must precede voting. - -But the first group, by its own force, and the second group, under -imaginable conditions, might exclude not only the Negro vote, but a -large part of the white vote. Hence, the third group, which comprises: a -military service qualification--any man who went to war, willingly or -unwillingly, in a good cause or a bad, is entitled to register (Ala., -Va.); a prescriptive qualification, under which are included all male -persons who were entitled to vote on January 1, 1867, at which date the -Negro had not yet been given the right to vote; a hereditary -qualification (the so-called "grandfather" clause), whereby any son -(Va.), or descendant (Ala.), of a soldier, and (N.C.) the descendant of -any person who had the right to vote on January 1, 1867, inherits that -right. If the voter wish to take advantage of these last provisions, -which are in the nature of exceptions to a general rule, he must -register within a stated time, whereupon he becomes a member of a -privileged class of permanently enrolled voters not subject to any of -the other restrictions. - -It will be seen that these restrictions are variously combined in the -different States, and it is apparent that if combined to their declared -end, practically every Negro may, under color of law, be denied the -right to vote, and practically every white man accorded that right. The -effectiveness of these provisions to exclude the Negro vote is proved by -the Alabama registration under the new State Constitution. Out of a -total, by the census of 1900, of 181,471 Negro "males of voting age," -less than 3,000 are registered; in Montgomery county alone, the seat of -the State capital, where there are 7,000 Negro males of voting age, only -47 have been allowed to register, while in several counties not one -single Negro is permitted to exercise the franchise. - -These methods of disfranchisement have stood such tests as the United -States Courts, including the Supreme Court, have thus far seen fit to -apply, in such cases as have been before them for adjudication. These -include a case based upon the "understanding" clause of the Mississippi -Constitution, in which the Supreme Court held, in effect, that since -there was no ambiguity in the language employed and the Negro was not -directly named, the Court would not go behind the wording of the -Constitution to find a meaning which discriminated against the colored -voter; and the recent case of Jackson vs. Giles, brought by a colored -citizen of Montgomery, Alabama, in which the Supreme Court confesses -itself impotent to provide a remedy for what, by inference, it -acknowledges may be a "great political wrong," carefully avoiding, -however, to state that it is a wrong, although the vital prayer of the -petition was for a decision upon this very point. - -Now, what is the effect of this wholesale disfranchisement of colored -men, upon their citizenship? The value of food to the human organism is -not measured by the pains of an occasional surfeit, but by the effect of -its entire deprivation. Whether a class of citizens should vote, even if -not always wisely--what class does?--may best be determined by -considering their condition when they are without the right to vote. - -The colored people are left, in the States where they have been -disfranchised, absolutely without representation, direct or indirect, -in any law-making body, in any court of justice, in any branch of -government--for the feeble remnant of voters left by law is so -inconsiderable as to be without a shadow of power. Constituting -one-eighth of the population of the whole country, two-fifths of the -whole Southern people, and a majority in several States, they are not -able, because disfranchised where most numerous, to send one -representative to the Congress, which, by the decision in the Alabama -case, is held by the Supreme Court to be the only body, outside of the -State itself, competent to give relief from a great political wrong. By -former decisions of the same tribunal, even Congress is impotent to -protect their civil rights, the Fourteenth Amendment having long since, -by the consent of the same Court, been in many respects as completely -nullified as the Fifteenth Amendment is now sought to be. They have no -direct representation in any Southern legislature, and no voice in -determining the choice of white men who might be friendly to their -rights. Nor are they able to influence the election of judges or other -public officials, to whom are entrusted the protection of their lives, -their liberties and their property. No judge is rendered careful, no -sheriff diligent, for fear that he may offend a black constituency; the -contrary is most lamentably true; day after day the catalogue of -lynchings and anti-Negro riots upon every imaginable pretext, grows -longer and more appalling. The country stands face to face with the -revival of slavery; at the moment of this writing a federal grand jury -in Alabama is uncovering a system of peonage established under cover of -law. - -Under the Southern program it is sought to exclude colored men from -every grade of the public service; not only from the higher -administrative functions, to which few of them would in any event, for a -long time aspire, but from the lowest as well. A Negro may not be a -constable or a policeman. He is subjected by law to many degrading -discriminations. He is required to be separated from white people on -railroads and street cars, and, by custom, debarred from inns and places -of public entertainment. His equal right to a free public education is -constantly threatened and is nowhere equitably recognized. In Georgia, -as has been shown by Dr. Du Bois, where the law provides for a pro rata -distribution of the public school fund between the races, and where the -colored school population is 48 per cent, of the total, the amount of -the fund devoted to their schools is only 20 per cent. In New Orleans, -with an immense colored population, many of whom are persons of means -and culture, all colored public schools above the fifth grade have been -abolished. - -The Negro is subjected to taxation without representation, which the -forefathers of this Republic made the basis of a bloody revolution. - -Flushed with their local success, and encouraged by the timidity of the -Courts and the indifference of public opinion, the Southern whites have -carried their campaign into the national government, with an ominous -degree of success. If they shall have their way, no Negro can fill any -federal office, or occupy, in the public service, any position that is -not menial. This is not an inference, but the openly, passionately -avowed sentiment of the white South. The right to employment in the -public service is an exceedingly valuable one, for which white men have -struggled and fought. A vast army of men are employed in the -administration of public affairs. Many avenues of employment are closed -to colored men by popular prejudice. If their right to public employment -is recognized, and the way to it open through the civil service, or the -appointing power, or the suffrages of the people, it will prove, as it -has already, a strong incentive to effort and a powerful lever for -advancement. Its value to the Negro, like that of the right to vote, may -be judged by the eagerness of the whites to deprive him of it. - -Not only is the Negro taxed without representation in the States -referred to, but he pays, through the tariff and internal revenue, a tax -to a National government whose supreme judicial tribunal declares that -it cannot, through the executive arm, enforce its own decrees, and, -therefore, refuses to pass upon a question, squarely before it, -involving a basic right of citizenship. For the decision of the Supreme -Court in the Giles case, if it foreshadows the attitude which the Court -will take upon other cases to the same general end which will soon come -before it, is scarcely less than a reaffirmation of the Dred Scott -decision; it certainly amounts to this--that in spite of the Fifteenth -Amendment, colored men in the United States have no political rights -which the States are bound to respect. To say this much is to say that -all privileges and immunities which Negroes henceforth enjoy, must be by -favor of the whites; they are not _rights_. The whites have so declared; -they proclaim that the country is theirs, that the Negro should be -thankful that he has so much, when so much more might be withheld from -him. He stands upon a lower footing than any alien; he has no government -to which he may look for protection. - -Moreover, the white South sends to Congress, on a basis including the -Negro population, a delegation nearly twice as large as it is justly -entitled to, and one which may always safely be relied upon to oppose in -Congress every measure which seeks to protect the equality, or to -enlarge the rights of colored citizens. The grossness of this injustice -is all the more apparent since the Supreme Court, in the Alabama case -referred to, has declared the legislative and political department of -the government to be the only power which can right a political wrong. -Under this decision still further attacks upon the liberties of the -citizen may be confidently expected. Armed with the Negro's sole weapon -of defense, the white South stands ready to smite down his rights. The -ballot was first given to the Negro to defend him against this very -thing. He needs it now far more than then, and for even stronger -reasons. The 9,000,000 free colored people of to day have vastly more to -defend than the 3,000,000 hapless blacks who had just emerged from -slavery. If there be those who maintain that it was a mistake to give -the Negro the ballot at the time and in the manner in which it was -given, let them take to heart this reflection: that to deprive him of it -to-day, or to so restrict it as to leave him utterly defenseless against -the present relentless attitude of the South toward his rights, will -prove to be a mistake so much greater than the first, as to be no less -than a crime, from which not alone the Southern Negro must suffer, but -for which the nation will as surely pay the penalty as it paid for the -crime of slavery. Contempt for law is death to a republic, and this one -has developed alarming symptoms of the disease. - -And now, having thus robbed the Negro of every political and civil -_right_, the white South, in palliation of its course, makes a great -show of magnanimity in leaving him, as the sole remnant of what he -acquired through the Civil War, a very inadequate public school -education, which, by the present program, is to be directed mainly -towards making him a better agricultural laborer. Even this is put -forward as a favor, although the Negro's property is taxed to pay for -it, and his labor as well. For it is a well settled principle of -political economy, that land and machinery of themselves produce -nothing, and that labor indirectly pays its fair proportion of the tax -upon the public's wealth. The white South seems to stand to the Negro at -present as one, who, having been reluctantly compelled to release -another from bondage, sees him stumbling forward and upward, neglected -by his friends and scarcely yet conscious of his own strength; seizes -him, binds him, and having bereft him of speech, of sight and of -manhood, "yokes him with the mule" and exclaims, with a show of virtue -which ought to deceive no one: "Behold how good a friend I am of yours! -Have I not left you a stomach and a pair of arms, and will I not -generously permit you to work for me with the one, that you may thereby -gain enough to fill the other? A brain you do not need. We will relieve -you of any responsibility that might seem to demand such an organ." - -The argument of peace-loving Northern white men and Negro opportunists -that the political power of the Negro having long ago been suppressed by -unlawful means, his right to vote is a mere paper right, of no real -value, and therefore to be lightly yielded for the sake of a -hypothetical harmony, is fatally short-sighted. It is precisely the -attitude and essentially the argument which would have surrendered to -the South in the sixties, and would have left this country to rot in -slavery for another generation. White men do not thus argue concerning -their own rights. They know too well the value of ideals. Southern white -men see too clearly the latent power of these unexercised rights. If the -political power of the Negro was a nullity because of his ignorance and -lack of leadership, why were they not content to leave it so, with the -pleasing assurance that if it ever became effective, it would be because -the Negroes had grown fit for its exercise? On the contrary, they have -not rested until the possibility of its revival was apparently headed -off by new State constitutions. Nor are they satisfied with this. There -is no doubt that an effort will be made to secure the repeal of the -Fifteenth Amendment, and thus forestall the development of the wealthy -and educated Negro, whom the South seems to anticipate as a greater -menace than the ignorant ex-slave. However improbable this repeal may -seem, it is not a subject to be lightly dismissed; for it is within the -power of the white people of the nation to do whatever they wish in the -premises--they did it once; they can do it again. The Negro and his -friends should see to it that the white majority shall never wish to do -anything to his hurt. There still stands, before the Negro-hating whites -of the South, the specter of a Supreme Court which will interpret the -Constitution to mean what it says, and what those who enacted it meant, -and what the nation, which ratified it, understood, and which will find -power, in a nation which goes beyond seas to administer the affairs of -distant peoples, to enforce its own fundamental laws; the specter, too, -of an aroused public opinion which will compel Congress and the Courts -to preserve the liberties of the Republic, which are the liberties of -the people. To wilfully neglect the suffrage, to hold it lightly, is to -tamper with a sacred right; to yield it for anything else whatever is -simply suicidal. Dropping the element of race, disfranchisement is no -more than to say to the poor and poorly taught, that they must -relinquish the right to defend themselves against oppression until they -shall have become rich and learned, in competition with those already -thus favored and possessing the ballot in addition. This is not the -philosophy of history. The growth of liberty has been the constant -struggle of the poor against the privileged classes; and the goal of -that struggle has ever been the equality of all men before the law. The -Negro who would yield this right, deserves to be a slave; he has the -servile spirit. The rich and the educated can, by virtue of their -influence, command many votes; can find other means of protection; the -poor man has but one, he should guard it as a sacred treasure. Long ago, -by fair treatment, the white leaders of the South might have bound the -Negro to themselves with hoops of steel. They have not chosen to take -this course, but by assuming from the beginning an attitude hostile to -his rights, have never gained his confidence, and now seek by foul means -to destroy where they have never sought by fair means to control. - -I have spoken of the effect of disfranchisement upon the colored race; -it is to the race as a whole, that the argument of the problem is -generally directed. But the unit of society in a republic is the -individual, and not the race, the failure to recognize this fact being -the fundamental error which has beclouded the whole discussion. The -effect of disfranchisement upon the individual is scarcely less -disastrous. I do not speak of the moral effect of injustice upon those -who suffer from it; I refer rather to the practical consequences which -may be appreciated by any mind. No country is free in which the way -upward is not open for every man to try, and for every properly -qualified man to attain whatever of good the community life may offer. -Such a condition does not exist, at the South, even in theory, for any -man of color. In no career can such a man compete with white men upon -equal terms. He must not only meet the prejudice of the individual, not -only the united prejudice of the white community; but lest some one -should wish to treat him fairly, he is met at every turn with some legal -prohibition which says, "Thou shalt not," or "Thus far shalt thou go and -no farther." But the Negro race is viable; it adapts itself readily to -circumstances; and being thus adaptable, there is always the temptation -to - - "Crook the pregnant hinges of the knee, - Where thrift may follow fawning." - -He who can most skillfully balance himself upon the advancing or -receding wave of white opinion concerning his race, is surest of such -measure of prosperity as is permitted to men of dark skins. There are -Negro teachers in the South--the privilege of teaching in their own -schools is the one respectable branch of the public service still left -open to them--who, for a grudging appropriation from a Southern -legislature, will decry their own race, approve their own degradation, -and laud their oppressors. Deprived of the right to vote, and, -therefore, of any power to demand what is their due, they feel impelled -to buy the tolerance of the whites at any sacrifice. If to live is the -first duty of man, as perhaps it is the first instinct, then those who -thus stoop to conquer may be right. But is it needful to stoop so low, -and if so, where lies the ultimate responsibility for this abasement? - -I shall say nothing about the moral effect of disfranchisement upon the -white people, or upon the State itself. What slavery made of the -Southern whites is a matter of history. The abolition of slavery gave -the South an opportunity to emerge from barbarism. Present conditions -indicate that the spirit which dominated slavery still curses the fair -section over which that institution spread its blight. - -And now, is the situation remediless? If not so, where lies the remedy? -First let us take up those remedies suggested by the men who approve of -disfranchisement, though they may sometimes deplore the method, or -regret the necessity. - -Time, we are told, heals all diseases, rights all wrongs, and is the -only cure for this one. It is a cowardly argument. These people are -entitled to their rights to-day, while they are yet alive to enjoy them; -and it is poor statesmanship and worse morals to nurse a present evil -and thrust it forward upon a future generation for correction. The -nation can no more honestly do this than it could thrust back upon a -past generation the responsibility for slavery. It had to meet that -responsibility; it ought to meet this one. - -Education has been put forward as the great corrective--preferably -industrial education. The intellect of the whites is to be educated to -the point where they will so appreciate the blessings of liberty and -equality, as of their own motion to enlarge and defend the Negro's -rights. The Negroes, on the other hand, are to be so trained as to make -them, not equal with the whites in any way--God save the mark!--this -would be unthinkable!--but so useful to the community that the whites -will protect them rather than lose their valuable services. Some few -enthusiasts go so far as to maintain that by virtue of education the -Negro will, in time, become strong enough to protect himself against any -aggression of the whites; this, it may be said, is a strictly Northern -view. - -It is not quite clearly apparent how education alone, in the ordinary -meaning of the word, is to solve, in any appreciable time, the problem -of the relations of Southern white and black people. The need of -education of all kinds for both races is wofully apparent. But men and -nations have been free without being learned, and there have been -educated slaves. Liberty has been known to languish where culture had -reached a very high development. Nations do not first become rich and -learned and then free, but the lesson of history has been that they -first become free and then rich and learned, and oftentimes fall back -into slavery again because of too great wealth, and the resulting luxury -and carelessness of civic virtues. The process of education has been -going on rapidly in the Southern States since the Civil War, and yet, if -we take superficial indications, the rights of the Negroes are at a -lower ebb than at any time during the thirty-five years of their -freedom, and the race prejudice more intense and uncompromising. It is -not apparent that educated Southerners are less rancorous than others in -their speech concerning the Negro, or less hostile in their attitude -toward his rights. It is their voice alone that we have heard in this -discussion; and if, as they state, they are liberal in their views as -compared with the more ignorant whites, then God save the Negro! - -I was told, in so many words, two years ago, by the Superintendent of -Public Schools of a Southern city that "there was no place in the modern -world for the Negro, except under the ground." If gentlemen holding such -opinions are to instruct the white youth of the South, would it be at -all surprising if these, later on, should devote a portion of their -leisure to the improvement of civilization by putting under the ground -as many of this superfluous race as possible? - -The sole excuse made in the South for the prevalent injustice to the -Negro is the difference in race, and the inequalities and antipathies -resulting therefrom. It has nowhere been declared as a part of the -Southern program that the Negro, when educated, is to be given a fair -representation in government or an equal opportunity in life; the -contrary has been strenuously asserted; education can never make of him -anything but a Negro, and, therefore, essentially inferior, and not to -be safely trusted with any degree of power. A system of education which -would tend to soften the asperities and lessen the inequalities between -the races would be of inestimable value. An education which by a rigid -separation of the races from the kindergarten to the university, fosters -this racial antipathy, and is directed toward emphasizing the -superiority of one class and the inferiority of another, might easily -have disastrous, rather than beneficial results. It would render the -oppressing class more powerful to injure, the oppressed quicker to -perceive and keener to resent the injury, without proportionate power of -defense. The same assimilative education which is given at the North to -all children alike, whereby native and foreign, black and white, are -taught side by side in every grade of instruction, and are compelled by -the exigencies of discipline to keep their prejudices in abeyance, and -are given the opportunity to learn and appreciate one another's good -qualities, and to establish friendly relations which may exist -throughout life, is absent from the Southern system of education, both -of the past and as proposed for the future. Education is in a broad -sense a remedy for all social ills; but the disease we have to deal with -now is not only constitutional but acute. A wise physician does not -simply give a tonic for a diseased limb, or a high fever; the patient -might be dead before the constitutional remedy could become effective. -The evils of slavery, its injury to whites and blacks, and to the body -politic, were clearly perceived and acknowledged by the educated leaders -of the South as far back as the Revolutionary War and the Constitutional -Convention, and yet they made no effort to abolish it. Their remedy was -the same--time, education, social and economic development;--and yet a -bloody war was necessary to destroy slavery and put its spirit -temporarily to sleep. When the South and its friends are ready to -propose a system of education which will recognize and teach the -equality of all men before the law, the potency of education alone to -settle the race problem will be more clearly apparent. - -At present even good Northern men, who wish to educate the Negroes, feel -impelled to buy this privilege from the none too eager white South, by -conceding away the civil and political rights of those whom they would -benefit. They have, indeed, gone farther than the Southerners themselves -in approving the disfranchisement of the colored race. Most Southern -men, now that they have carried their point and disfranchised the Negro, -are willing to admit, in the language of a recent number of the -Charleston _Evening Post_, that "the attitude of the Southern white man -toward the Negro is incompatible with the fundamental ideas of the -republic." It remained for our Clevelands and Abbotts and Parkhursts to -assure them that their unlawful course was right and justifiable, and -for the most distinguished Negro leader to declare that "every revised -Constitution throughout the Southern States has put a premium upon -intelligence, ownership of property, thrift and character." So does -every penitentiary sentence put a premium upon good conduct; but it is -poor consolation to the one unjustly condemned, to be told that he may -shorten his sentence somewhat by good behavior. Dr. Booker T. -Washington, whose language is quoted above, has, by his eminent services -in the cause of education, won deserved renown. If he has seemed, at -times, to those jealous of the best things for their race, to decry the -higher education, it can easily be borne in mind that his career is -bound up in the success of an industrial school; hence any undue stress -which he may put upon that branch of education may safely be ascribed to -the natural zeal of the promoter, without detracting in any degree from -the essential value of his teachings in favor of manual training, thrift -and character-building. But Mr. Washington's prominence as an -educational leader, among a race whose prominent leaders are so few, has -at times forced him, perhaps reluctantly, to express himself in regard -to the political condition of his people, and here his utterances have -not always been so wise nor so happy. He has declared himself in favor -of a restricted suffrage, which at present means, for his own people, -nothing less than complete loss of representation--indeed it is only in -that connection that the question has been seriously mooted; and he has -advised them to go slow in seeking to enforce their civil and political -rights, which, in effect, means silent submission to injustice. Southern -white men may applaud this advice as wise, because it fits in with their -purposes; but Senator McEnery of Louisiana, in a recent article in the -_Independent_, voices the Southern white opinion of such acquiescence -when he says: "What other race would have submitted so many years to -slavery without complaint? _What other race would have submitted so -quietly to disfranchisement?_ These facts stamp his [the Negro's] -inferiority to the white race." The time to philosophize about the good -there is in evil, is not while its correction is still possible, but, if -at all, after all hope of correction is past. Until then it calls for -nothing but rigorous condemnation. To try to read any good thing into -these fraudulent Southern constitutions, or to accept them as an -accomplished fact, is to condone a crime against one's race. Those who -commit crime should bear the odium. It is not a pleasing spectacle to -see the robbed applaud the robber. Silence were better. - -It has become fashionable to question the wisdom of the Fifteenth -Amendment. I believe it to have been an act of the highest -statesmanship, based upon the fundamental idea of this Republic, -entirely justified by conditions; experimental in its nature, perhaps, -as every new thing must be, but just in principle; a choice between -methods, of which it seemed to the great statesmen of that epoch the -wisest and the best, and essentially the most just, bearing in mind the -interests of the freedmen and the Nation, as well as the feelings of the -Southern whites; never fairly tried, and therefore, not yet to be justly -condemned. Not one of those who condemn it, has been able, even in the -light of subsequent events, to suggest a better method by which the -liberty and civil rights of the freedmen and their descendants could -have been protected. Its abandonment, as I have shown, leaves this -liberty and these rights frankly without any guaranteed protection. All -the education which philanthropy or the State could offer as a -_substitute_ for equality of rights, would be a poor exchange; there is -no defensible reason why they should not go hand in hand, each -encouraging and strengthening the other. The education which one can -demand as a right is likely to do more good than the education for which -one must sue as a favor. - -The chief argument against Negro suffrage, the insistently proclaimed -argument, worn threadbare in Congress, on the platform, in the pulpit, -in the press, in poetry, in fiction, in impassioned rhetoric, is the -reconstruction period. And yet the evils of that period were due far -more to the venality and indifference of white men than to the -incapacity of black voters. The revised Southern constitutions adopted -under reconstruction reveal a higher statesmanship than any which -preceded or have followed them, and prove that the freed voters could as -easily have been led into the paths of civic righteousness as into those -of misgovernment. Certain it is that under reconstruction the civil and -political rights of all men were more secure in those States than they -have ever been since. We will hear less of the evils of reconstruction, -now that the bugaboo has served its purpose by disfranchising the Negro. -It will be laid aside for a time while the nation discusses the -political corruption of great cities; the scandalous conditions in Rhode -Island; the evils attending reconstruction in the Philippines, and the -scandals in the postoffice department--for none of which, by the way, is -the Negro charged with any responsibility, and for none of which is the -restriction of the suffrage a remedy seriously proposed. Rhode Island is -indeed the only Northern State which has a property qualification for -the franchise! - -There are three tribunals to which the colored people may justly appeal -for the protection of their rights: the United States Courts, Congress -and public opinion. At present all three seem mainly indifferent to any -question of human rights under the Constitution. Indeed, Congress and -the Courts merely follow public opinion, seldom lead it. Congress never -enacts a measure which is believed to oppose public opinion;--your -Congressman keeps his ear to the ground. The high, serene atmosphere of -the Courts is not impervious to its voice; they rarely enforce a law -contrary to public opinion, even the Supreme Court being able, as -Charles Sumner once put it, to find a reason for every decision it may -wish to render; or, as experience has shown, a method to evade any -question which it cannot decently decide in accordance with public -opinion. The art of straddling is not confined to the political arena. -The Southern situation has been well described by a colored editor in -Richmond: "When we seek relief at the hands of Congress, we are informed -that our plea involves a legal question, and we are referred to the -Courts. When we appeal to the Courts, we are gravely told that the -question is a political one, and that we must go to Congress. When -Congress enacts remedial legislation, our enemies take it to the Supreme -Court, which promptly declares it unconstitutional." The Negro might -chase his rights round and round this circle until the end of time, -without finding any relief. - -Yet the Constitution is clear and unequivocal in its terms, and no -Supreme Court can indefinitely continue to construe it as meaning -anything but what it says. This Court should be bombarded with suits -until it makes some definite pronouncement, one way or the other, on the -broad question of the constitutionality of the disfranchising -Constitutions of the Southern States. The Negro and his friends will -then have a clean-cut issue to take to the forum of public opinion, and -a distinct ground upon which to demand legislation for the enforcement -of the Federal Constitution. The case from Alabama was carried to the -Supreme Court expressly to determine the constitutionality of the -Alabama Constitution. The Court declared itself without jurisdiction, -and in the same breath went into the merits of the case far enough to -deny relief, without passing upon the real issue. Had it said, as it -might with absolute justice and perfect propriety, that the Alabama -Constitution is a bold and impudent violation of the Fifteenth -Amendment, the purpose of the lawsuit would have been accomplished and a -righteous cause vastly strengthened. But public opinion cannot remain -permanently indifferent to so vital a question. The agitation is already -on. It is at present largely academic, but is slowly and resistlessly, -forcing itself into politics, which is the medium through which -republics settle such questions. It cannot much longer be contemptuously -or indifferently elbowed aside. The South itself seems bent upon forcing -the question to an issue, as, by its arrogant assumptions, it brought on -the Civil War. From that section, too, there come now and then, side by -side with tales of Southern outrage, excusing voices, which at the same -time are accusing voices; which admit that the white South is dealing -with the Negro unjustly and unwisely; that the Golden Rule has been -forgotten; that the interests of white men alone have been taken into -account, and that their true interests as well are being sacrificed. -There is a silent white South, uneasy in conscience, darkened in -counsel, groping for the light, and willing to do the right. They are as -yet a feeble folk, their voices scarcely audible above the clamor of the -mob. May their convictions ripen into wisdom, and may their numbers and -their courage increase! If the class of Southern white men of whom Judge -Jones of Alabama, is so noble a representative, are supported and -encouraged by a righteous public opinion at the North, they may, in -time, become the dominant white South, and we may then look for wisdom -and justice in the place where, so far as the Negro is concerned, they -now seem well-nigh strangers. But even these gentlemen will do well to -bear in mind that so long as they discriminate in any way against the -Negro's equality of right, so long do they set class against class and -open the door to every sort of discrimination, there can be no middle -ground between justice and injustice, between the citizen and the serf. - -It is not likely that the North, upon the sober second thought, will -permit the dearly-bought results of the Civil War to be nullified by any -change in the Constitution. So long as the Fifteenth Amendment stands, -the _rights_ of colored citizens are ultimately secure. There were -would-be despots in England after the granting of Magna Charta; but it -outlived them all, and the liberties of the English people are secure. -There was slavery in this land after the Declaration of Independence, -yet the faces of those who love liberty have ever turned to that -immortal document. So will the Constitution and its principles outlive -the prejudices which would seek to overthrow it. - -What colored men of the South can do to secure their citizenship to-day, -or in the immediate future, is not very clear. Their utterances on -political questions, unless they be to concede away the political rights -of their race, or to soothe the consciences of white men by suggesting -that the problem is insoluble except by some slow remedial process which -will become effectual only in the distant future, are received with -scant respect--could scarcely, indeed, be otherwise received, without a -voting constituency to back them up,--and must be cautiously made, lest -they meet an actively hostile reception. But there are many colored men -at the North, where their civil and political rights in the main are -respected. There every honest man has a vote, which he may freely cast, -and which is reasonably sure to be fairly counted. When this race -develops a sufficient power of combination, under adequate -leadership,--and there are signs already that this time is near at -hand,--the Northern vote can be wielded irresistibly for the defense of -the rights of their Southern brethren. - -In the meantime the Northern colored men have the right of free speech, -and they should never cease to demand their rights, to clamor for them, -to guard them jealously, and insistently to invoke law and public -sentiment to maintain them. He who would be free must learn to protect -his freedom. - -Eternal vigilance is the price of liberty. He who would be respected -must respect himself. The best friend of the Negro is he who would -rather see, within the borders of this republic one million free -citizens of that race, equal before the law, than ten million cringing -serfs existing by a contemptuous sufferance. A race that is willing to -survive upon any other terms is scarcely worthy of consideration. - -The direct remedy for the disfranchisement of the Negro lies through -political action. One scarcely sees the philosophy of distinguishing -between a civil and a political right. But the Supreme Court has -recognized this distinction and has designated Congress as the power to -right a political wrong. The Fifteenth Amendment gives Congress power to -enforce its provisions. The power would seem to be inherent in -government itself; but anticipating that the enforcement of the -Amendment might involve difficulty, they made the supererogatory -declaration. Moreover, they went further, and passed laws by which they -provided for such enforcement. These the Supreme Court has so far -declared insufficient. It is for Congress to make more laws. It is for -colored men and for white men who are not content to see the -blood-bought results of the Civil War nullified, to urge and direct -public opinion to the point where it will demand stringent legislation -to enforce the Fourteenth and Fifteenth Amendments. This demand will -rest in law, in morals and in true statesmanship; no difficulties -attending it could be worse than the present ignoble attitude of the -Nation toward its own laws and its own ideals--without courage to -enforce them, without conscience to change them, the United States -presents the spectacle of a Nation drifting aimlessly, so far as this -vital, National problem is concerned, upon the sea of irresolution, -toward the maelstrom of anarchy. - -The right of Congress, under the Fourteenth Amendment, to reduce -Southern representation can hardly be disputed. But Congress has a -simpler and more direct method to accomplish the same end. It is the -sole judge of the qualifications of its own members, and the sole -judge of whether any member presenting his credentials has met those -qualifications. It can refuse to seat any member who comes from a -district where voters have been disfranchised; it can judge for itself -whether this has been done, and there is no appeal from its decision. - -If, when it has passed a law, any Court shall refuse to obey its -behests, it can impeach the judges. If any president refuse to lend the -executive arm of the government to the enforcement of the law, it can -impeach the president. No such extreme measures are likely to be -necessary for the enforcement of the Fourteenth and Fifteenth -Amendments--and the Thirteenth, which is also threatened--but they are -mentioned as showing that Congress is supreme; and Congress proceeds, -the House directly, the Senate indirectly, from the people and is -governed by public opinion. If the reduction of Southern representation -were to be regarded in the light of a bargain by which the Fifteenth -Amendment was surrendered, then it might prove fatal to liberty. If it -be inflicted as a punishment and a warning, to be followed by more -drastic measures if not sufficient, it would serve a useful purpose. The -Fifteenth Amendment declares that the right to vote _shall not_ be -denied or abridged on account of color; and any measure adopted by -Congress should look to that end. Only as the power to injure the Negro -in Congress is reduced thereby, would a reduction of representation -protect the Negro; without other measures it would still leave him in -the hands of the Southern whites, who could safely be trusted to make -him pay for their humiliation. - -Finally, there is, somewhere in the Universe a "Power that works for -righteousness," and that leads men to do justice to one another. To this -power, working upon the hearts and consciences of men, the Negro can -always appeal. He has the right upon his side, and in the end the right -will prevail. The Negro will, in time, attain to full manhood and -citizenship throughout the United States. No better guaranty of this is -needed than a comparison of his present with his past. Toward this he -must do his part, as lies within his power and his opportunity. But it -will be, after all, largely a white man's conflict, fought out in the -forum of the public conscience. The Negro, though eager enough when -opportunity offered, had comparatively little to do with the abolition -of slavery, which was a vastly more formidable task than will be the -enforcement of the Fifteenth Amendment. - -_The Negro Problem_, 1903 - - - -***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WIFE OF HIS YOUTH AND OTHER -STORIES OF THE COLOR LINE, AND SELECTED ESSAYS*** - - -******* This file should be named 11057-8.txt or 11057-8.zip ******* - - -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: -https://www.gutenberg.org/1/1/0/5/11057 - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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For -example an eBook of filename 10234 would be found at: - -https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/2/3/10234 - -or filename 24689 would be found at: -https://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/6/8/24689 - -An alternative method of locating eBooks: -https://www.gutenberg.org/GUTINDEX.ALL - -*** END: FULL LICENSE *** diff --git a/old/11057-8.zip b/old/11057-8.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index e94d4bc..0000000 --- a/old/11057-8.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/11057.txt b/old/11057.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 4cefacb..0000000 --- a/old/11057.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8991 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Wife of his Youth and Other Stories of -the Color Line, and Selected Essays, by Charles Waddell Chesnutt, et al - - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - - - - -Title: The Wife of his Youth and Other Stories of the Color Line, and -Selected Essays - -Author: Charles Waddell Chesnutt - -Release Date: February 12, 2004 [eBook #11057] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: US-ASCII - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WIFE OF HIS YOUTH AND OTHER -STORIES OF THE COLOR LINE, AND SELECTED ESSAYS*** - - -E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, Andrea Ball, and the Project Gutenberg -Online Distributed Proofreading Team - - - -The Wife of His Youth and Other Stories of the Color Line, -and Selected Essays - -Charles W. Chesnutt - -1899 - - - - - - -INTRODUCTION - - -Charles Waddell Chesnutt (1858-1932)--African-American educator, -lawyer, and activist--was the most prominent black prose author of -his day. In both his fiction and his essays, he addressed the thorny -issues of the "color line" and racism in an outspoken way. Despite -the critical acclaim resulting from several works of fiction and -non-fiction published between 1898 and 1905, he was unable to make a -living as an author. He kept writing, however, and several works -which were not published during his lifetime have been rediscovered -(and published) in recent years. He was awarded the Springarn Medal -for distinguished literary achievement by the NAACP in 1928. The -library at Fayetteville State University, in North Carolina, is -named after him. - -The Wife of His Youth (1899) was Chesnutt's second collection of -short stories, drawing upon his mixed race heritage. These deal -largely with race relations, the far-reaching effects of Jim -Crow laws, and color prejudice among African Americans toward -darker-skinned blacks. Eric J. Sundquist wrote: "Chesnutt's -color-line stories, like his conjure tales, are at their best -haunting, psychologically and philosophically astute studies of the -nation's betrayal of the promise of racial equality and its descent -into a brutal world of segregation. [He] made the family a means of -delineating America's racial crisis, during slavery and afterward." -For our PG edition, I have added three of Chesnutt's essays on the -"color line" in an Appendix to this collection. - - Suzanne Shell, - Project Gutenberg Project Manager - - - - - - -CONTENTS - -The Wife of His Youth - -Her Virginia Mammy - -The Sheriff's Children - -A Matter of Principle - -Cicely's Dream - -The Passing of Grandison - -Uncle Wellington's Wives - -The Bouquet - -The Web of Circumstance - - - -APPENDIX - -Three Essays on the Color Line: - -What is a White Man? (1889) - -The Future American (1900) - -The Disfranchisement of the Negro (1903) - - - - - -The Wife of His Youth - - - -I - - -Mr. Ryder was going to give a ball. There were several reasons why this -was an opportune time for such an event. - -Mr. Ryder might aptly be called the dean of the Blue Veins. The original -Blue Veins were a little society of colored persons organized in a -certain Northern city shortly after the war. Its purpose was to -establish and maintain correct social standards among a people whose -social condition presented almost unlimited room for improvement. By -accident, combined perhaps with some natural affinity, the society -consisted of individuals who were, generally speaking, more white than -black. Some envious outsider made the suggestion that no one was -eligible for membership who was not white enough to show blue veins. The -suggestion was readily adopted by those who were not of the favored few, -and since that time the society, though possessing a longer and more -pretentious name, had been known far and wide as the "Blue Vein -Society," and its members as the "Blue Veins." - -The Blue Veins did not allow that any such requirement existed for -admission to their circle, but, on the contrary, declared that character -and culture were the only things considered; and that if most of their -members were light-colored, it was because such persons, as a rule, had -had better opportunities to qualify themselves for membership. Opinions -differed, too, as to the usefulness of the society. There were those who -had been known to assail it violently as a glaring example of the very -prejudice from which the colored race had suffered most; and later, when -such critics had succeeded in getting on the inside, they had been heard -to maintain with zeal and earnestness that the society was a lifeboat, -an anchor, a bulwark and a shield,--a pillar of cloud by day and of fire -by night, to guide their people through the social wilderness. Another -alleged prerequisite for Blue Vein membership was that of free birth; -and while there was really no such requirement, it is doubtless true -that very few of the members would have been unable to meet it if there -had been. If there were one or two of the older members who had come up -from the South and from slavery, their history presented enough romantic -circumstances to rob their servile origin of its grosser aspects. - -While there were no such tests of eligibility, it is true that the Blue -Veins had their notions on these subjects, and that not all of them were -equally liberal in regard to the things they collectively disclaimed. -Mr. Ryder was one of the most conservative. Though he had not been among -the founders of the society, but had come in some years later, his -genius for social leadership was such that he had speedily become its -recognized adviser and head, the custodian of its standards, and the -preserver of its traditions. He shaped its social policy, was active in -providing for its entertainment, and when the interest fell off, as it -sometimes did, he fanned the embers until they burst again into a -cheerful flame. - -There were still other reasons for his popularity. While he was not as -white as some of the Blue Veins, his appearance was such as to confer -distinction upon them. His features were of a refined type, his hair was -almost straight; he was always neatly dressed; his manners were -irreproachable, and his morals above suspicion. He had come to Groveland -a young man, and obtaining employment in the office of a railroad -company as messenger had in time worked himself up to the position of -stationery clerk, having charge of the distribution of the office -supplies for the whole company. Although the lack of early training had -hindered the orderly development of a naturally fine mind, it had not -prevented him from doing a great deal of reading or from forming -decidedly literary tastes. Poetry was his passion. He could repeat whole -pages of the great English poets; and if his pronunciation was sometimes -faulty, his eye, his voice, his gestures, would respond to the changing -sentiment with a precision that revealed a poetic soul and disarmed -criticism. He was economical, and had saved money; he owned and occupied -a very comfortable house on a respectable street. His residence was -handsomely furnished, containing among other things a good library, -especially rich in poetry, a piano, and some choice engravings. He -generally shared his house with some young couple, who looked after his -wants and were company for him; for Mr. Ryder was a single man. In the -early days of his connection with the Blue Veins he had been regarded as -quite a catch, and young ladies and their mothers had manoeuvred with -much ingenuity to capture him. Not, however, until Mrs. Molly Dixon -visited Groveland had any woman ever made him wish to change his -condition to that of a married man. - -Mrs. Dixon had come to Groveland from Washington in the spring, and -before the summer was over she had won Mr. Ryder's heart. She possessed -many attractive qualities. She was much younger than he; in fact, he was -old enough to have been her father, though no one knew exactly how old -he was. She was whiter than he, and better educated. She had moved in -the best colored society of the country, at Washington, and had taught -in the schools of that city. Such a superior person had been eagerly -welcomed to the Blue Vein Society, and had taken a leading part in its -activities. Mr. Ryder had at first been attracted by her charms of -person, for she was very good looking and not over twenty-five; then by -her refined manners and the vivacity of her wit. Her husband had been a -government clerk, and at his death had left a considerable life -insurance. She was visiting friends in Groveland, and, finding the town -and the people to her liking, had prolonged her stay indefinitely. She -had not seemed displeased at Mr. Ryder's attentions, but on the contrary -had given him every proper encouragement; indeed, a younger and less -cautious man would long since have spoken. But he had made up his mind, -and had only to determine the time when he would ask her to be his wife. -He decided to give a ball in her honor, and at some time during the -evening of the ball to offer her his heart and hand. He had no special -fears about the outcome, but, with a little touch of romance, he wanted -the surroundings to be in harmony with his own feelings when he should -have received the answer he expected. - -Mr. Ryder resolved that this ball should mark an epoch in the social -history of Groveland. He knew, of course,--no one could know -better,--the entertainments that had taken place in past years, and what -must be done to surpass them. His ball must be worthy of the lady in -whose honor it was to be given, and must, by the quality of its guests, -set an example for the future. He had observed of late a growing -liberality, almost a laxity, in social matters, even among members of -his own set, and had several times been forced to meet in a social way -persons whose complexions and callings in life were hardly up to the -standard which he considered proper for the society to maintain. He had -a theory of his own. - -"I have no race prejudice," he would say, "but we people of mixed blood -are ground between the upper and the nether millstone. Our fate lies -between absorption by the white race and extinction in the black. The -one does n't want us yet, but may take us in time. The other would -welcome us, but it would be for us a backward step. 'With malice towards -none, with charity for all,' we must do the best we can for ourselves -and those who are to follow us. Self-preservation is the first law of -nature." - -His ball would serve by its exclusiveness to counteract leveling -tendencies, and his marriage with Mrs. Dixon would help to further the -upward process of absorption he had been wishing and waiting for. - - - -II - - -The ball was to take place on Friday night. The house had been put in -order, the carpets covered with canvas, the halls and stairs decorated -with palms and potted plants; and in the afternoon Mr. Ryder sat on his -front porch, which the shade of a vine running up over a wire netting -made a cool and pleasant lounging place. He expected to respond to the -toast "The Ladies" at the supper, and from a volume of Tennyson--his -favorite poet--was fortifying himself with apt quotations. The volume -was open at "A Dream of Fair Women." His eyes fell on these lines, and -he read them aloud to judge better of their effect:---- - - "At length I saw a lady within call, - Stiller than chisell'd marble, standing there; - A daughter of the gods, divinely tall, - And most divinely fair." - -He marked the verse, and turning the page read the stanza beginning,---- - - "O sweet pale Margaret, - O rare pale Margaret." - -He weighed the passage a moment, and decided that it would not do. Mrs. -Dixon was the palest lady he expected at the ball, and she was of a -rather ruddy complexion, and of lively disposition and buxom build. So -he ran over the leaves until his eye rested on the description of Queen -Guinevere:---- - - "She seem'd a part of joyous Spring; - A gown of grass-green silk she wore, - Buckled with golden clasps before; - A light-green tuft of plumes she bore - Closed in a golden ring. - - * * * * * - - "She look'd so lovely, as she sway'd - The rein with dainty finger-tips, - A man had given all other bliss, - And all his worldly worth for this, - To waste his whole heart in one kiss - Upon her perfect lips." - -As Mr. Ryder murmured these words audibly, with an appreciative thrill, -he heard the latch of his gate click, and a light footfall sounding on -the steps. He turned his head, and saw a woman standing before his door. - -She was a little woman, not five feet tall, and proportioned to her -height. Although she stood erect, and looked around her with very bright -and restless eyes, she seemed quite old; for her face was crossed and -recrossed with a hundred wrinkles, and around the edges of her bonnet -could be seen protruding here and there a tuft of short gray wool. She -wore a blue calico gown of ancient cut, a little red shawl fastened -around her shoulders with an old-fashioned brass brooch, and a large -bonnet profusely ornamented with faded red and yellow artificial -flowers. And she was very black,--so black that her toothless gums, -revealed when she opened her mouth to speak, were not red, but blue. She -looked like a bit of the old plantation life, summoned up from the past -by the wave of a magician's wand, as the poet's fancy had called into -being the gracious shapes of which Mr. Ryder had just been reading. - -He rose from his chair and came over to where she stood. - -"Good-afternoon, madam," he said. - -"Good-evenin', suh," she answered, ducking suddenly with a quaint -curtsy. Her voice was shrill and piping, but softened somewhat by age. -"Is dis yere whar Mistuh Ryduh lib, suh?" she asked, looking around her -doubtfully, and glancing into the open windows, through which some of -the preparations for the evening were visible. - -"Yes," he replied, with an air of kindly patronage, unconsciously -flattered by her manner, "I am Mr. Ryder. Did you want to see me?" - -"Yas, suh, ef I ain't 'sturbin' of you too much." - -"Not at all. Have a seat over here behind the vine, where it is cool. -What can I do for you?" - -"'Scuse me, suh," she continued, when she had sat down on the edge of a -chair, "'scuse me, suh, I 's lookin' for my husban'. I heerd you wuz a -big man an' had libbed heah a long time, an' I 'lowed you would n't min' -ef I 'd come roun' an' ax you ef you 'd ever heerd of a merlatter man by -de name er Sam Taylor 'quirin' roun' in de chu'ches ermongs' de people -fer his wife 'Liza Jane?" - -Mr. Ryder seemed to think for a moment. - -"There used to be many such cases right after the war," he said, "but it -has been so long that I have forgotten them. There are very few now. But -tell me your story, and it may refresh my memory." - -She sat back farther in her chair so as to be more comfortable, and -folded her withered hands in her lap. - -"My name 's 'Liza," she began, "'Liza Jane. W'en I wuz young I us'ter -b'long ter Marse Bob Smif, down in ole Missoura. I wuz bawn down dere. -Wen I wuz a gal I wuz married ter a man named Jim. But Jim died, an' -after dat I married a merlatter man named Sam Taylor. Sam wuz free-bawn, -but his mammy and daddy died, an' de w'ite folks 'prenticed him ter my -marster fer ter work fer 'im 'tel he wuz growed up. Sam worked in de -fiel', an' I wuz de cook. One day Ma'y Ann, ole miss's maid, came -rushin' out ter de kitchen, an' says she, ''Liza Jane, ole marse gwine -sell yo' Sam down de ribber.' - -"'Go way f'm yere,' says I; 'my husban' 's free!' - -"'Don' make no diff'ence. I heerd ole marse tell ole miss he wuz gwine -take yo' Sam 'way wid 'im ter-morrow, fer he needed money, an' he knowed -whar he could git a t'ousan' dollars fer Sam an' no questions axed.' - -"W'en Sam come home f'm de fiel' dat night, I tole him 'bout ole marse -gwine steal 'im, an' Sam run erway. His time wuz mos' up, an' he swo' -dat w'en he wuz twenty-one he would come back an' he'p me run erway, er -else save up de money ter buy my freedom. An' I know he 'd 'a' done it, -fer he thought a heap er me, Sam did. But w'en he come back he didn' -fin' me, fer I wuzn' dere. Ole marse had heerd dat I warned Sam, so he -had me whip' an' sol' down de ribber. - -"Den de wah broke out, an' w'en it wuz ober de cullud folks wuz -scattered. I went back ter de ole home; but Sam wuzn' dere, an' I -could n' l'arn nuffin' 'bout 'im. But I knowed he 'd be'n dere to look -fer me an' had n' foun' me, an' had gone erway ter hunt fer me. - -"I 's be'n lookin' fer 'im eber sence," she added simply, as though -twenty-five years were but a couple of weeks, "an' I knows he 's be'n -lookin' fer me. Fer he sot a heap er sto' by me, Sam did, an' I know -he 's be'n huntin' fer me all dese years,--'less'n he 's be'n sick er -sump'n, so he could n' work, er out'n his head, so he could n' 'member -his promise. I went back down de ribber, fer I 'lowed he 'd gone down -dere lookin' fer me. I 's be'n ter Noo Orleens, an' Atlanty, an' -Charleston, an' Richmon'; an' w'en I 'd be'n all ober de Souf I come ter -de Norf. Fer I knows I 'll fin' 'im some er dese days," she added -softly, "er he 'll fin' me, an' den we 'll bofe be as happy in freedom -as we wuz in de ole days befo' de wah." A smile stole over her withered -countenance as she paused a moment, and her bright eyes softened into a -far-away look. - -This was the substance of the old woman's story. She had wandered a -little here and there. Mr. Ryder was looking at her curiously when she -finished. - -"How have you lived all these years?" he asked. - -"Cookin', suh. I 's a good cook. Does you know anybody w'at needs a good -cook, suh? I 's stoppin' wid a cullud fam'ly roun' de corner yonder 'tel -I kin git a place." - -"Do you really expect to find your husband? He may be dead long ago." - -She shook her head emphatically. "Oh no, he ain' dead. De signs an' de -tokens tells me. I dremp three nights runnin' on'y dis las' week dat I -foun' him." - -"He may have married another woman. Your slave marriage would not have -prevented him, for you never lived with him after the war, and without -that your marriage does n't count." - -"Would n' make no diff'ence wid Sam. He would n' marry no yuther 'ooman -'tel he foun' out 'bout me. I knows it," she added. "Sump'n 's be'n -tellin' me all dese years dat I 's gwine fin' Sam 'fo' I dies." - -"Perhaps he 's outgrown you, and climbed up in the world where he would n't -care to have you find him." - -"No, indeed, suh," she replied, "Sam ain' dat kin' er man. He wuz good -ter me, Sam wuz, but he wuz n' much good ter nobody e'se, fer he wuz one -er de triflin'es' han's on de plantation. I 'spec's ter haf ter suppo't -'im w'en I fin' 'im, fer he nebber would work 'less'n he had ter. But -den he wuz free, an' he did n' git no pay fer his work, an' I don' blame -'im much. Mebbe he 's done better sence he run erway, but I ain' -'spectin' much." - -"You may have passed him on the street a hundred times during the -twenty-five years, and not have known him; time works great changes." - -She smiled incredulously. "I 'd know 'im 'mongs' a hund'ed men. Fer dey -wuz n' no yuther merlatter man like my man Sam, an' I could n' be -mistook. I 's toted his picture roun' wid me twenty-five years." - -"May I see it?" asked Mr. Ryder. "It might help me to remember whether I -have seen the original." - -As she drew a small parcel from her bosom he saw that it was fastened to -a string that went around her neck. Removing several wrappers, she -brought to light an old-fashioned daguerreotype in a black case. He -looked long and intently at the portrait. It was faded with time, but -the features were still distinct, and it was easy to see what manner of -man it had represented. - -He closed the case, and with a slow movement handed it back to her. - -"I don't know of any man in town who goes by that name," he said, "nor -have I heard of any one making such inquiries. But if you will leave me -your address, I will give the matter some attention, and if I find out -anything I will let you know." - -She gave him the number of a house in the neighborhood, and went away, -after thanking him warmly. - -He wrote the address on the fly-leaf of the volume of Tennyson, and, -when she had gone, rose to his feet and stood looking after her -curiously. As she walked down the street with mincing step, he saw -several persons whom she passed turn and look back at her with a smile -of kindly amusement. When she had turned the corner, he went upstairs to -his bedroom, and stood for a long time before the mirror of his -dressing-case, gazing thoughtfully at the reflection of his own face. - - - -III - - -At eight o'clock the ballroom was a blaze of light and the guests had -begun to assemble; for there was a literary programme and some routine -business of the society to be gone through with before the dancing. A -black servant in evening dress waited at the door and directed the -guests to the dressing-rooms. - -The occasion was long memorable among the colored people of the city; -not alone for the dress and display, but for the high average of -intelligence and culture that distinguished the gathering as a whole. -There were a number of school-teachers, several young doctors, three or -four lawyers, some professional singers, an editor, a lieutenant in the -United States army spending his furlough in the city, and others in -various polite callings; these were colored, though most of them would -not have attracted even a casual glance because of any marked difference -from white people. Most of the ladies were in evening costume, and dress -coats and dancing pumps were the rule among the men. A band of string -music, stationed in an alcove behind a row of palms, played popular airs -while the guests were gathering. - -The dancing began at half past nine. At eleven o'clock supper was -served. Mr. Ryder had left the ballroom some little time before the -intermission, but reappeared at the supper-table. The spread was worthy -of the occasion, and the guests did full justice to it. When the coffee -had been served, the toast-master, Mr. Solomon Sadler, rapped for order. -He made a brief introductory speech, complimenting host and guests, and -then presented in their order the toasts of the evening. They were -responded to with a very fair display of after-dinner wit. - -"The last toast," said the toast-master, when he reached the end of the -list, "is one which must appeal to us all. There is no one of us of the -sterner sex who is not at some time dependent upon woman,--in infancy -for protection, in manhood for companionship, in old age for care and -comforting. Our good host has been trying to live alone, but the fair -faces I see around me to-night prove that he too is largely dependent -upon the gentler sex for most that makes life worth living,--the society -and love of friends,--and rumor is at fault if he does not soon yield -entire subjection to one of them. Mr. Ryder will now respond to the -toast,--The Ladies." - -There was a pensive look in Mr. Ryder's eyes as he took the floor and -adjusted his eyeglasses. He began by speaking of woman as the gift of -Heaven to man, and after some general observations on the relations of -the sexes he said: "But perhaps the quality which most distinguishes -woman is her fidelity and devotion to those she loves. History is full -of examples, but has recorded none more striking than one which only -to-day came under my notice." - -He then related, simply but effectively, the story told by his visitor -of the afternoon. He gave it in the same soft dialect, which came -readily to his lips, while the company listened attentively and -sympathetically. For the story had awakened a responsive thrill in many -hearts. There were some present who had seen, and others who had heard -their fathers and grandfathers tell, the wrongs and sufferings of this -past generation, and all of them still felt, in their darker moments, -the shadow hanging over them. Mr. Ryder went on:---- - -"Such devotion and confidence are rare even among women. There are many -who would have searched a year, some who would have waited five years, a -few who might have hoped ten years; but for twenty-five years this woman -has retained her affection for and her faith in a man she has not seen -or heard of in all that time. - -"She came to me to-day in the hope that I might be able to help her -find this long-lost husband. And when she was gone I gave my fancy rein, -and imagined a case I will put to you. - -"Suppose that this husband, soon after his escape, had learned that his -wife had been sold away, and that such inquiries as he could make -brought no information of her whereabouts. Suppose that he was young, -and she much older than he; that he was light, and she was black; that -their marriage was a slave marriage, and legally binding only if they -chose to make it so after the war. Suppose, too, that he made his way to -the North, as some of us have done, and there, where he had larger -opportunities, had improved them, and had in the course of all these -years grown to be as different from the ignorant boy who ran away from -fear of slavery as the day is from the night. Suppose, even, that he had -qualified himself, by industry, by thrift, and by study, to win the -friendship and be considered worthy the society of such people as these -I see around me to-night, gracing my board and filling my heart with -gladness; for I am old enough to remember the day when such a gathering -would not have been possible in this land. Suppose, too, that, as the -years went by, this man's memory of the past grew more and more -indistinct, until at last it was rarely, except in his dreams, that any -image of this bygone period rose before his mind. And then suppose that -accident should bring to his knowledge the fact that the wife of his -youth, the wife he had left behind him,--not one who had walked by his -side and kept pace with him in his upward struggle, but one upon whom -advancing years and a laborious life had set their mark,--was alive and -seeking him, but that he was absolutely safe from recognition or -discovery, unless he chose to reveal himself. My friends, what would the -man do? I will presume that he was one who loved honor, and tried to -deal justly with all men. I will even carry the case further, and -suppose that perhaps he had set his heart upon another, whom he had -hoped to call his own. What would he do, or rather what ought he to do, -in such a crisis of a lifetime? - -"It seemed to me that he might hesitate, and I imagined that I was an -old friend, a near friend, and that he had come to me for advice; and I -argued the case with him. I tried to discuss it impartially. After we -had looked upon the matter from every point of view, I said to him, in -words that we all know:---- - - "'This above all: to thine own self be true, - And it must follow, as the night the day, - Thou canst not then be false to any man.' - -"Then, finally, I put the question to him, 'Shall you acknowledge her?' - -"And now, ladies and gentlemen, friends and companions, I ask you, what -should he have done?" - -There was something in Mr. Ryder's voice that stirred the hearts of -those who sat around him. It suggested more than mere sympathy with an -imaginary situation; it seemed rather in the nature of a personal -appeal. It was observed, too, that his look rested more especially upon -Mrs. Dixon, with a mingled expression of renunciation and inquiry. - -She had listened, with parted lips and streaming eyes. She was the first -to speak: "He should have acknowledged her." - -"Yes," they all echoed, "he should have acknowledged her." - -"My friends and companions," responded Mr. Ryder, "I thank you, one and -all. It is the answer I expected, for I knew your hearts." - -He turned and walked toward the closed door of an adjoining room, while -every eye followed him in wondering curiosity. He came back in a moment, -leading by the hand his visitor of the afternoon, who stood startled and -trembling at the sudden plunge into this scene of brilliant gayety. She -was neatly dressed in gray, and wore the white cap of an elderly woman. - -"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "this is the woman, and I am the man, -whose story I have told you. Permit me to introduce to you the wife of -my youth." - - - - -Her Virginia Mammy - - - -I - - -The pianist had struck up a lively two-step, and soon the floor was -covered with couples, each turning on its own axis, and all revolving -around a common centre, in obedience perhaps to the same law of motion -that governs the planetary systems. The dancing-hall was a long room, -with a waxed floor that glistened with the reflection of the lights from -the chandeliers. The walls were hung in paper of blue and white, above a -varnished hard wood wainscoting; the monotony of surface being broken by -numerous windows draped with curtains of dotted muslin, and by -occasional engravings and colored pictures representing the dances of -various nations, judiciously selected. The rows of chairs along the two -sides of the room were left unoccupied by the time the music was well -under way, for the pianist, a tall colored woman with long fingers and a -muscular wrist, played with a verve and a swing that set the feet of the -listeners involuntarily in motion. - -The dance was sure to occupy the class for a quarter of an hour at -least, and the little dancing-mistress took the opportunity to slip away -to her own sitting-room, which was on the same floor of the block, for a -few minutes of rest. Her day had been a hard one. There had been a -matinee at two o'clock, a children's class at four, and at eight o'clock -the class now on the floor had assembled. - -When she reached the sitting-room she gave a start of pleasure. A young -man rose at her entrance, and advanced with both hands extended--a tall, -broad-shouldered, fair-haired young man, with a frank and kindly -countenance, now lit up with the animation of pleasure. He seemed about -twenty-six or twenty-seven years old. His face was of the type one -instinctively associates with intellect and character, and it gave the -impression, besides, of that intangible something which we call race. He -was neatly and carefully dressed, though his clothing was not without -indications that he found it necessary or expedient to practice economy. - -"Good-evening, Clara," he said, taking her hands in his; "I 've been -waiting for you five minutes. I supposed you would be in, but if you had -been a moment later I was going to the hall to look you up. You seem -tired to-night," he added, drawing her nearer to him and scanning her -features at short range. "This work is too hard; you are not fitted for -it. When are you going to give it up?" - -"The season is almost over," she answered, "and then I shall stop for -the summer." - -He drew her closer still and kissed her lovingly. "Tell me, Clara," he -said, looking down into her face,--he was at least a foot taller than -she,--"when I am to have my answer." - -"Will you take the answer you can get to-night?" she asked with a wan -smile. - -"I will take but one answer, Clara. But do not make me wait too long for -that. Why, just think of it! I have known you for six months." - -"That is an extremely long time," said Clara, as they sat down side by -side. - -"It has been an age," he rejoined. "For a fortnight of it, too, which -seems longer than all the rest, I have been waiting for my answer. I am -turning gray under the suspense. Seriously, Clara dear, what shall it -be? or rather, when shall it be? for to the other question there is but -one answer possible." - -He looked into her eyes, which slowly filled with tears. She repulsed -him gently as he bent over to kiss them away. - -"You know I love you, John, and why I do not say what you wish. You must -give me a little more time to make up my mind before I can consent to -burden you with a nameless wife, one who does not know who her mother -was"---- - -"She was a good woman, and beautiful, if you are at all like her." - -"Or her father"---- - -"He was a gentleman and a scholar, if you inherited from him your mind -or your manners." - -"It is good of you to say that, and I try to believe it. But it is a -serious matter; it is a dreadful thing to have no name." - -"You are known by a worthy one, which was freely given you, and is -legally yours." - -"I know--and I am grateful for it. After all, though, it is not my real -name; and since I have learned that it was not, it seems like a -garment--something external, accessory, and not a part of myself. It -does not mean what one's own name would signify." - -"Take mine, Clara, and make it yours; I lay it at your feet. Some -honored men have borne it." - -"Ah yes, and that is what makes my position the harder. Your -great-grandfather was governor of Connecticut." - -"I have heard my mother say so." - -"And one of your ancestors came over in the Mayflower." - -"In some capacity--I have never been quite clear whether as ship's cook -or before the mast." - -"Now you are insincere, John; but you cannot deceive me. You never spoke -in that way about your ancestors until you learned that I had none. I -know you are proud of them, and that the memory of the governor and the -judge and the Harvard professor and the Mayflower pilgrim makes you -strive to excel, in order to prove yourself worthy of them." - -"It did until I met you, Clara. Now the one inspiration of my life is -the hope to make you mine." - -"And your profession?" - -"It will furnish me the means to take you out of this; you are not fit -for toil." - -"And your book--your treatise that is to make you famous?" - -"I have worked twice as hard on it and accomplished twice as much since -I have hoped that you might share my success." - -"Oh! if I but knew the truth!" she sighed, "or could find it out! I -realize that I am absurd, that I ought to be happy. I love my -parents--my foster-parents--dearly. I owe them everything. Mother--poor, -dear mother!--could not have loved me better or cared for me more -faithfully had I been her own child. Yet--I am ashamed to say it--I -always felt that I was not like them, that there was a subtle difference -between us. They were contented in prosperity, resigned in misfortune; I -was ever restless, and filled with vague ambitions. They were good, but -dull. They loved me, but they never said so. I feel that there is -warmer, richer blood coursing in my veins than the placid stream that -crept through theirs." - -"There will never be any such people to me as they were," said her -lover, "for they took you and brought you up for me." - -"Sometimes," she went on dreamily, "I feel sure that I am of good -family, and the blood of my ancestors seems to call to me in clear and -certain tones. Then again when my mood changes, I am all at sea--I feel -that even if I had but simply to turn my hand to learn who I am and -whence I came, I should shrink from taking the step, for fear that what -I might learn would leave me forever unhappy." - -"Dearest," he said, taking her in his arms, while from the hall and down -the corridor came the softened strains of music, "put aside these -unwholesome fancies. Your past is shrouded in mystery. Take my name, as -you have taken my love, and I 'll make your future so happy that you -won't have time to think of the past. What are a lot of musty, mouldy -old grandfathers, compared with life and love and happiness? It 's hardly -good form to mention one's ancestors nowadays, and what 's the use of -them at all if one can't boast of them?" - -"It 's all very well of you to talk that way," she rejoined. "But suppose -you should marry me, and when you become famous and rich, and patients -flock to your office, and fashionable people to your home, and every one -wants to know who you are and whence you came, you 'll be obliged to -bring out the governor, and the judge, and the rest of them. If you -should refrain, in order to forestall embarrassing inquiries about _my_ -ancestry, I should have deprived you of something you are entitled to, -something which has a real social value. And when people found out all -about you, as they eventually would from some source, they would want to -know--we Americans are a curious people--who your wife was, and you -could only say"---- - -"The best and sweetest woman on earth, whom I love unspeakably." - -"You know that is not what I mean. You could only say--a Miss Nobody, -from Nowhere." - -"A Miss Hohlfelder, from Cincinnati, the only child of worthy German -parents, who fled from their own country in '49 to escape political -persecution--an ancestry that one surely need not be ashamed of." - -"No; but the consciousness that it was not true would be always with -me, poisoning my mind, and darkening my life and yours." - -"Your views of life are entirely too tragic, Clara," the young man -argued soothingly. "We are all worms of the dust, and if we go back far -enough, each of us has had millions of ancestors; peasants and serfs, -most of them; thieves, murderers, and vagabonds, many of them, no doubt; -and therefore the best of us have but little to boast of. Yet we are all -made after God's own image, and formed by his hand, for his ends; and -therefore not to be lightly despised, even the humblest of us, least of -all by ourselves. For the past we can claim no credit, for those who -made it died with it. Our destiny lies in the future." - -"Yes," she sighed, "I know all that. But I am not like you. A woman is -not like a man; she cannot lose herself in theories and generalizations. -And there are tests that even all your philosophy could not endure. -Suppose you should marry me, and then some time, by the merest accident, -you should learn that my origin was the worst it could be--that I not -only had no name, but was not entitled to one." - -"I cannot believe it," he said, "and from what we do know of your -history it is hardly possible. If I learned it, I should forget it, -unless, perchance, it should enhance your value in my eyes, by stamping -you as a rare work of nature, an exception to the law of heredity, a -triumph of pure beauty and goodness over the grosser limitations of -matter. I cannot imagine, now that I know you, anything that could make -me love you less. I would marry you just the same--even if you were one -of your dancing-class to-night." - -"I must go back to them," said Clara, as the music ceased. - -"My answer," he urged, "give me my answer!" - -"Not to-night, John," she pleaded. "Grant me a little longer time to -make up my mind--for your sake." - -"Not for my sake, Clara, no." - -"Well--for mine." She let him take her in his arms and kiss her again. - -"I have a patient yet to see to-night," he said as he went out. "If I am -not detained too long, I may come back this way--if I see the lights in -the hall still burning. Do not wonder if I ask you again for my answer, -for I shall be unhappy until I get it." - - - -II - - -A stranger entering the hall with Miss Hohlfelder would have seen, at -first glance, only a company of well-dressed people, with nothing to -specially distinguish them from ordinary humanity in temperate climates. -After the eye had rested for a moment and begun to separate the mass -into its component parts, one or two dark faces would have arrested its -attention; and with the suggestion thus offered, a closer inspection -would have revealed that they were nearly all a little less than white. -With most of them this fact would not have been noticed, while they were -alone or in company with one another, though if a fair white person had -gone among them it would perhaps have been more apparent. From the few -who were undistinguishable from pure white, the colors ran down the -scale by minute gradations to the two or three brown faces at the other -extremity. - -It was Miss Hohlfelder's first colored class. She had been somewhat -startled when first asked to take it. No person of color had ever -applied to her for lessons; and while a woman of that race had played -the piano for her for several months, she had never thought of colored -people as possible pupils. So when she was asked if she would take a -class of twenty or thirty, she had hesitated, and begged for time to -consider the application. She knew that several of the more fashionable -dancing-schools tabooed all pupils, singly or in classes, who labored -under social disabilities--and this included the people of at least one -other race who were vastly farther along in the world than the colored -people of the community where Miss Hohlfelder lived. Personally she had -no such prejudice, except perhaps a little shrinking at the thought of -personal contact with the dark faces of whom Americans always think when -"colored people" are spoken of. Again, a class of forty pupils was not -to be despised, for she taught for money, which was equally current and -desirable, regardless of its color. She had consulted her -foster-parents, and after them her lover. Her foster-parents, who were -German-born, and had never become thoroughly Americanized, saw no -objection. As for her lover, he was indifferent. - -"Do as you please," he said. "It may drive away some other pupils. If -it should break up the business entirely, perhaps you might be willing -to give me a chance so much the sooner." - -She mentioned the matter to one or two other friends, who expressed -conflicting opinions. She decided at length to take the class, and take -the consequences. - -"I don't think it would be either right or kind to refuse them for any -such reason, and I don't believe I shall lose anything by it." - -She was somewhat surprised, and pleasantly so, when her class came -together for their first lesson, at not finding them darker and more -uncouth. Her pupils were mostly people whom she would have passed on the -street without a second glance, and among them were several whom she had -known by sight for years, but had never dreamed of as being colored -people. Their manners were good, they dressed quietly and as a rule with -good taste, avoiding rather than choosing bright colors and striking -combinations--whether from natural preference, or because of a slightly -morbid shrinking from criticism, of course she could not say. Among -them, the dancing-mistress soon learned, there were lawyers and doctors, -teachers, telegraph operators, clerks, milliners and dressmakers, -students of the local college and scientific school, and, somewhat to -her awe at the first meeting, even a member of the legislature. They -were mostly young, although a few light-hearted older people joined the -class, as much for company as for the dancing. - -"Of course, Miss Hohlfelder," explained Mr. Solomon Sadler, to whom the -teacher had paid a compliment on the quality of the class, "the more -advanced of us are not numerous enough to make the fine distinctions -that are possible among white people; and of course as we rise in life -we can't get entirely away from our brothers and our sisters and our -cousins, who don't always keep abreast of us. We do, however, draw -certain lines of character and manners and occupation. You see the sort -of people we are. Of course we have no prejudice against color, and we -regard all labor as honorable, provided a man does the best he can. But -we must have standards that will give our people something to aspire -to." - -The class was not a difficult one, as many of the members were already -fairly good dancers. Indeed the class had been formed as much for -pleasure as for instruction. Music and hall rent and a knowledge of the -latest dances could be obtained cheaper in this way than in any other. -The pupils had made rapid progress, displaying in fact a natural -aptitude for rhythmic motion, and a keen susceptibility to musical -sounds. As their race had never been criticised for these -characteristics, they gave them full play, and soon developed, most of -them, into graceful and indefatigable dancers. They were now almost at -the end of their course, and this was the evening of the last lesson but -one. - -Miss Hohlfelder had remarked to her lover more than once that it was a -pleasure to teach them. "They enter into the spirit of it so thoroughly, -and they seem to enjoy themselves so much." - -"One would think," he suggested, "that the whitest of them would find -their position painful and more or less pathetic; to be so white and yet -to be classed as black--so near and yet so far." - -"They don't accept our classification blindly. They do not acknowledge -any inferiority; they think they are a great deal better than any but -the best white people," replied Miss Hohlfelder. "And since they have -been coming here, do you know," she went on, "I hardly think of them as -any different from other people. I feel perfectly at home among them." - -"It is a great thing to have faith in one's self," he replied. "It is a -fine thing, too, to be able to enjoy the passing moment. One of your -greatest charms in my eyes, Clara, is that in your lighter moods you -have this faculty. You sing because you love to sing. You find pleasure -in dancing, even by way of work. You feel the _joie de vivre_--the joy -of living. You are not always so, but when you are so I think you most -delightful." - -Miss Hohlfelder, upon entering the hall, spoke to the pianist and then -exchanged a few words with various members of the class. The pianist -began to play a dreamy Strauss waltz. When the dance was well under way -Miss Hohlfelder left the hall again and stepped into the ladies' -dressing-room. There was a woman seated quietly on a couch in a corner, -her hands folded on her lap. - -"Good-evening, Miss Hohlfelder. You do not seem as bright as usual -to-night." - -Miss Hohlfelder felt a sudden yearning for sympathy. Perhaps it was the -gentle tones of the greeting; perhaps the kindly expression of the soft -though faded eyes that were scanning Miss Hohlfelder's features. The -woman was of the indefinite age between forty and fifty. There were -lines on her face which, if due to years, might have carried her even -past the half-century mark, but if caused by trouble or ill health might -leave her somewhat below it. She was quietly dressed in black, and wore -her slightly wavy hair low over her ears, where it lay naturally in the -ripples which some others of her sex so sedulously seek by art. A little -woman, of clear olive complexion and regular features, her face was -almost a perfect oval, except as time had marred its outline. She had -been in the habit of coming to the class with some young women of the -family she lived with, part boarder, part seamstress and friend of the -family. Sometimes, while waiting for her young charges, the music would -jar her nerves, and she would seek the comparative quiet of the -dressing-room. - -"Oh, I 'm all right, Mrs. Harper," replied the dancing-mistress, with a -brave attempt at cheerfulness,--"just a little tired, after a hard day's -work." - -She sat down on the couch by the elder woman's side. Mrs. Harper took -her hand and stroked it gently, and Clara felt soothed and quieted by -her touch. - -"There are tears in your eyes and trouble in your face. I know it, for I -have shed the one and known the other. Tell me, child, what ails you? I -am older than you, and perhaps I have learned some things in the hard -school of life that may be of comfort or service to you." - -Such a request, coming from a comparative stranger, might very properly -have been resented or lightly parried. But Clara was not what would be -called self-contained. Her griefs seemed lighter when they were shared -with others, even in spirit. There was in her nature a childish strain -that craved sympathy and comforting. She had never known--or if so it -was only in a dim and dreamlike past--the tender, brooding care that was -her conception of a mother's love. Mrs. Hohlfelder had been fond of her -in a placid way, and had given her every comfort and luxury her means -permitted. Clara's ideal of maternal love had been of another and more -romantic type; she had thought of a fond, impulsive mother, to whose -bosom she could fly when in trouble or distress, and to whom she could -communicate her sorrows and trials; who would dry her tears and soothe -her with caresses. Now, when even her kind foster-mother was gone, she -felt still more the need of sympathy and companionship with her own sex; -and when this little Mrs. Harper spoke to her so gently, she felt her -heart respond instinctively. - -"Yes, Mrs. Harper," replied Clara with a sigh, "I am in trouble, but it -is trouble that you nor any one else can heal." - -"You do not know, child. A simple remedy can sometimes cure a very grave -complaint. Tell me your trouble, if it is something you are at liberty -to tell." - -"I have a story," said Clara, "and it is a strange one,--a story I have -told to but one other person, one very dear to me." - -"He must be dear to you indeed, from the tone in which you speak of him. -Your very accents breathe love." - -"Yes, I love him, and if you saw him--perhaps you have seen him, for he -has looked in here once or twice during the dancing-lessons--you would -know why I love him. He is handsome, he is learned, he is ambitious, he -is brave, he is good; he is poor, but he will not always be so; and he -loves me, oh, so much!" - -The other woman smiled. "It is not so strange to love, nor yet to be -loved. And all lovers are handsome and brave and fond." - -"That is not all of my story. He wants to marry me." Clara paused, as if -to let this statement impress itself upon the other. - -"True lovers always do," said the elder woman. - -"But sometimes, you know, there are circumstances which prevent them." - -"Ah yes," murmured the other reflectively, and looking at the girl with -deeper interest, "circumstances which prevent them. I have known of such -a case." - -"The circumstance which prevents us from marrying is my story." - -"Tell me your story, child, and perhaps, if I cannot help you otherwise, -I can tell you one that will make yours seem less sad." - -"You know me," said the young woman, "as Miss Hohlfelder; but that is -not actually my name. In fact I do not know my real name, for I am not -the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Hohlfelder, but only an adopted child. -While Mrs. Hohlfelder lived, I never knew that I was not her child. I -knew I was very different from her and father,--I mean Mr. Hohlfelder. I -knew they were fair and I was dark; they were stout and I was slender; -they were slow and I was quick. But of course I never dreamed of the -true reason of this difference. When mother--Mrs. Hohlfelder--died, I -found among her things one day a little packet, carefully wrapped up, -containing a child's slip and some trinkets. The paper wrapper of the -packet bore an inscription that awakened my curiosity. I asked father -Hohlfelder whose the things had been, and then for the first time I -learned my real story. - -"I was not their own daughter, he stated, but an adopted child. -Twenty-three years ago, when he had lived in St. Louis, a steamboat -explosion had occurred up the river, and on a piece of wreckage floating -down stream, a girl baby had been found. There was nothing on the child -to give a hint of its home or parentage; and no one came to claim it, -though the fact that a child had been found was advertised all along the -river. It was believed that the infant's parents must have perished in -the wreck, and certainly no one of those who were saved could identify -the child. There had been a passenger list on board the steamer, but the -list, with the officer who kept it, had been lost in the accident. The -child was turned over to an orphan asylum, from which within a year it -was adopted by the two kind-hearted and childless German people who -brought it up as their own. I was that child." - -The woman seated by Clara's side had listened with strained attention. -"Did you learn the name of the steamboat?" she asked quietly, but -quickly, when Clara paused. - -"The Pride of St. Louis," answered Clara. She did not look at Mrs. -Harper, but was gazing dreamily toward the front, and therefore did not -see the expression that sprang into the other's face,--a look in which -hope struggled with fear, and yearning love with both,--nor the strong -effort with which Mrs. Harper controlled herself and moved not one -muscle while the other went on. - -"I was never sought," Clara continued, "and the good people who brought -me up gave me every care. Father and mother--I can never train my tongue -to call them anything else--were very good to me. When they adopted me -they were poor; he was a pharmacist with a small shop. Later on he moved -to Cincinnati, where he made and sold a popular 'patent' medicine and -amassed a fortune. Then I went to a fashionable school, was taught -French, and deportment, and dancing. Father Hohlfelder made some bad -investments, and lost most of his money. The patent medicine fell off in -popularity. A year or two ago we came to this city to live. Father -bought this block and opened the little drug store below. We moved into -the rooms upstairs. The business was poor, and I felt that I ought to do -something to earn money and help support the family. I could dance; we -had this hall, and it was not rented all the time, so I opened a -dancing-school." - -"Tell me, child," said the other woman, with restrained eagerness, "what -were the things found upon you when you were taken from the river?" - -"Yes," answered the girl, "I will. But I have not told you all my story, -for this is but the prelude. About a year ago a young doctor rented an -office in our block. We met each other, at first only now and then, and -afterwards oftener; and six months ago he told me that he loved me." - -She paused, and sat with half opened lips and dreamy eyes, looking back -into the past six months. - -"And the things found upon you"---- - -"Yes, I will show them to you when you have heard all my story. He -wanted to marry me, and has asked me every week since. I have told him -that I love him, but I have not said I would marry him. I don't think it -would be right for me to do so, unless I could clear up this mystery. I -believe he is going to be great and rich and famous, and there might -come a time when he would be ashamed of me. I don't say that I shall -never marry him; for I have hoped--I have a presentiment that in some -strange way I shall find out who I am, and who my parents were. It may -be mere imagination on my part, but somehow I believe it is more than -that." - -"Are you sure there was no mark on the things that were found upon you?" -said the elder woman. - -"Ah yes," sighed Clara, "I am sure, for I have looked at them a hundred -times. They tell me nothing, and yet they suggest to me many things. -Come," she said, taking the other by the hand, "and I will show them to -you." - -She led the way along the hall to her sitting-room, and to her -bedchamber beyond. It was a small room hung with paper showing a pattern -of morning-glories on a light ground, with dotted muslin curtains, a -white iron bedstead, a few prints on the wall, a rocking-chair--a very -dainty room. She went to the maple dressing-case, and opened one of the -drawers. - -As they stood for a moment, the mirror reflecting and framing their -image, more than one point of resemblance between them was emphasized. -There was something of the same oval face, and in Clara's hair a faint -suggestion of the wave in the older woman's; and though Clara was fairer -of complexion, and her eyes were gray and the other's black, there was -visible, under the influence of the momentary excitement, one of those -indefinable likenesses which are at times encountered,--sometimes -marking blood relationship, sometimes the impress of a common training; -in one case perhaps a mere earmark of temperament, and in another the -index of a type. Except for the difference in color, one might imagine -that if the younger woman were twenty years older the resemblance would -be still more apparent. - -Clara reached her hand into the drawer and drew out a folded packet, -which she unwrapped, Mrs. Harper following her movements meanwhile with -a suppressed intensity of interest which Clara, had she not been -absorbed in her own thoughts, could not have failed to observe. - -When the last fold of paper was removed there lay revealed a child's -muslin slip. Clara lifted it and shook it gently until it was unfolded -before their eyes. The lower half was delicately worked in a lacelike -pattern, revealing an immense amount of patient labor. - -The elder woman seized the slip with hands which could not disguise -their trembling. Scanning the garment carefully, she seemed to be noting -the pattern of the needlework, and then, pointing to a certain spot, -exclaimed:---- - -"I thought so! I was sure of it! Do you not see the letters--M.S.?" - -"Oh, how wonderful!" Clara seized the slip in turn and scanned the -monogram. "How strange that you should see that at once and that I -should not have discovered it, who have looked at it a hundred times! -And here," she added, opening a small package which had been inclosed in -the other, "is my coral necklace. Perhaps your keen eyes can find -something in that." - -It was a simple trinket, at which the older woman gave but a glance--a -glance that added to her emotion. - -"Listen, child," she said, laying her trembling hand on the other's arm. -"It is all very strange and wonderful, for that slip and necklace, and, -now that I have seen them, your face and your voice and your ways, all -tell me who you are. Your eyes are your father's eyes, your voice is -your father's voice. The slip was worked by your mother's hand." - -"Oh!" cried Clara, and for a moment the whole world swam before her -eyes. - -"I was on the Pride of St. Louis, and I knew your father--and your -mother." - -Clara, pale with excitement, burst into tears, and would have fallen had -not the other woman caught her in her arms. Mrs. Harper placed her on -the couch, and, seated by her side, supported her head on her shoulder. -Her hands seemed to caress the young woman with every touch. - -"Tell me, oh, tell me all!" Clara demanded, when the first wave of -emotion had subsided. "Who were my father and my mother, and who am I?" - -The elder woman restrained her emotion with an effort, and answered as -composedly as she could,---- - -"There were several hundred passengers on the Pride of St. Louis when -she left Cincinnati on that fateful day, on her regular trip to New -Orleans. Your father and mother were on the boat--and I was on the boat. -We were going down the river, to take ship at New Orleans for France, a -country which your father loved." - -"Who was my father?" asked Clara. The woman's words fell upon her ear -like water on a thirsty soil. - -"Your father was a Virginia gentleman, and belonged to one of the first -families, the Staffords, of Melton County." - -Clara drew herself up unconsciously, and into her face there came a -frank expression of pride which became it wonderfully, setting off a -beauty that needed only this to make it all but perfect of its type. - -"I knew it must be so," she murmured. "I have often felt it. Blood will -always tell. And my mother?" - -"Your mother--also belonged to one of the first families of Virginia, -and in her veins flowed some of the best blood of the Old Dominion." - -"What was her maiden name?" - -"Mary Fairfax. As I was saying, your father was a Virginia gentleman. He -was as handsome a man as ever lived, and proud, oh, so proud!--and good, -and kind. He was a graduate of the University and had studied abroad." - -"My mother--was she beautiful?" - -"She was much admired, and your father loved her from the moment he -first saw her. Your father came back from Europe, upon his father's -sudden death, and entered upon his inheritance. But he had been away -from Virginia so long, and had read so many books, that he had outgrown -his home. He did not believe that slavery was right, and one of the -first things he did was to free his slaves. His views were not popular, -and he sold out his lands a year before the war, with the intention of -moving to Europe." - -"In the mean time he had met and loved and married my mother?" - -"In the mean time he had met and loved your mother." - -"My mother was a Virginia belle, was she not?" - -"The Fairfaxes," answered Mrs. Harper, "were the first of the first -families, the bluest of the blue-bloods. The Miss Fairfaxes were all -beautiful and all social favorites." - -"What did my father do then, when he had sold out in Virginia?" - -"He went with your mother and you--you were then just a year old--to -Cincinnati, to settle up some business connected with his estate. When -he had completed his business, he embarked on the Pride of St. Louis -with you and your mother and a colored nurse." - -"And how did you know about them?" asked Clara. - -"I was one of the party. I was"---- - -"You were the colored nurse?--my 'mammy,' they would have called you in -my old Virginia home?" - -"Yes, child, I was--your mammy. Upon my bosom you have rested; my -breasts once gave you nourishment; my hands once ministered to you; my -arms sheltered you, and my heart loved you and mourned you like a mother -loves and mourns her firstborn." - -"Oh, how strange, how delightful!" exclaimed Clara. "Now I understand -why you clasped me so tightly, and were so agitated when I told you my -story. It is too good for me to believe. I am of good blood, of an old -and aristocratic family. My presentiment has come true. I can marry my -lover, and I shall owe all my happiness to you. How can I ever repay -you?" - -"You can kiss me, child, kiss your mammy." - -Their lips met, and they were clasped in each other's arms. One put into -the embrace all of her new-found joy, the other all the suppressed -feeling of the last half hour, which in turn embodied the unsatisfied -yearning of many years. - -The music had ceased and the pupils had left the hall. Mrs. Harper's -charges had supposed her gone, and had left for home without her. But -the two women, sitting in Clara's chamber, hand in hand, were oblivious -to external things and noticed neither the hour nor the cessation of the -music. - -"Why, dear mammy," said the young woman musingly, "did you not find me, -and restore me to my people?" - -"Alas, child! I was not white, and when I was picked up from the water, -after floating miles down the river, the man who found me kept me -prisoner for a time, and, there being no inquiry for me, pretended not -to believe that I was free, and took me down to New Orleans and sold me -as a slave. A few years later the war set me free. I went to St. Louis -but could find no trace of you. I had hardly dared to hope that a child -had been saved, when so many grown men and women had lost their lives. I -made such inquiries as I could, but all in vain." - -"Did you go to the orphan asylum?" - -"The orphan asylum had been burned and with it all the records. The war -had scattered the people so that I could find no one who knew about a -lost child saved from a river wreck. There were many orphans in those -days, and one more or less was not likely to dwell in the public mind." - -"Did you tell my people in Virginia?" - -"They, too, were scattered by the war. Your uncles lost their lives on -the battlefield. The family mansion was burned to the ground. Your -father's remaining relatives were reduced to poverty, and moved away -from Virginia." - -"What of my mother's people?" - -"They are all dead. God punished them. They did not love your father, -and did not wish him to marry your mother. They helped to drive him to -his death." - -"I am alone in the world, then, without kith or kin," murmured Clara, -"and yet, strange to say, I am happy. If I had known my people and lost -them, I should be sad. They are gone, but they have left me their name -and their blood. I would weep for my poor father and mother if I were -not so glad." - -Just then some one struck a chord upon the piano in the hall, and the -sudden breaking of the stillness recalled Clara's attention to the -lateness of the hour. - -"I had forgotten about the class," she exclaimed. "I must go and attend -to them." - -They walked along the corridor and entered the hall. Dr. Winthrop was -seated at the piano, drumming idly on the keys. - -"I did not know where you had gone," he said. "I knew you would be -around, of course, since the lights were not out, and so I came in here -to wait for you." - -"Listen, John, I have a wonderful story to tell you." - -Then she told him Mrs. Harper's story. He listened attentively and -sympathetically, at certain points taking his eyes from Clara's face and -glancing keenly at Mrs. Harper, who was listening intently. As he looked -from one to the other he noticed the resemblance between them, and -something in his expression caused Mrs. Harper's eyes to fall, and then -glance up appealingly. - -"And now," said Clara, "I am happy. I know my name. I am a Virginia -Stafford. I belong to one, yes, to two of what were the first families -of Virginia. John, my family is as good as yours. If I remember my -history correctly, the Cavaliers looked down upon the Roundheads." - -"I admit my inferiority," he replied. "If you are happy I am glad." - -"Clara Stafford," mused the girl. "It is a pretty name." - -"You will never have to use it," her lover declared, "for now you will -take mine." - -"Then I shall have nothing left of all that I have found"---- - -"Except your husband," asserted Dr. Winthrop, putting his arm around -her, with an air of assured possession. - -Mrs. Harper was looking at them with moistened eyes in which joy and -sorrow, love and gratitude, were strangely blended. Clara put out her -hand to her impulsively. - -"And my mammy," she cried, "my dear Virginia mammy." - - - - -The Sheriffs Children - - -Branson County, North Carolina, is in a sequestered district of one of -the staidest and most conservative States of the Union. Society in -Branson County is almost primitive in its simplicity. Most of the white -people own the farms they till, and even before the war there were no -very wealthy families to force their neighbors, by comparison, into the -category of "poor whites." - -To Branson County, as to most rural communities in the South, the war is -the one historical event that overshadows all others. It is the era from -which all local chronicles are dated,--births, deaths, marriages, -storms, freshets. No description of the life of any Southern community -would be perfect that failed to emphasize the all pervading influence of -the great conflict. - -Yet the fierce tide of war that had rushed through the cities and along -the great highways of the country had comparatively speaking but -slightly disturbed the sluggish current of life in this region, remote -from railroads and navigable streams. To the north in Virginia, to the -west in Tennessee, and all along the seaboard the war had raged; but the -thunder of its cannon had not disturbed the echoes of Branson County, -where the loudest sounds heard were the crack of some hunter's rifle, -the baying of some deep-mouthed hound, or the yodel of some tuneful -negro on his way through the pine forest. To the east, Sherman's army -had passed on its march to the sea; but no straggling band of "bummers" -had penetrated the confines of Branson County. The war, it is true, had -robbed the county of the flower of its young manhood; but the burden of -taxation, the doubt and uncertainty of the conflict, and the sting of -ultimate defeat, had been borne by the people with an apathy that robbed -misfortune of half its sharpness. - -The nearest approach to town life afforded by Branson County is found in -the little village of Troy, the county seat, a hamlet with a population -of four or five hundred. - -Ten years make little difference in the appearance of these remote -Southern towns. If a railroad is built through one of them, it infuses -some enterprise; the social corpse is galvanized by the fresh blood of -civilization that pulses along the farthest ramifications of our great -system of commercial highways. At the period of which I write, no -railroad had come to Troy. If a traveler, accustomed to the bustling -life of cities, could have ridden through Troy on a summer day, he might -easily have fancied himself in a deserted village. Around him he would -have seen weather-beaten houses, innocent of paint, the shingled roofs -in many instances covered with a rich growth of moss. Here and there he -would have met a razor-backed hog lazily rooting his way along the -principal thoroughfare; and more than once he would probably have had to -disturb the slumbers of some yellow dog, dozing away the hours in the -ardent sunshine, and reluctantly yielding up his place in the middle of -the dusty road. - -On Saturdays the village presented a somewhat livelier appearance, and -the shade trees around the court house square and along Front Street -served as hitching-posts for a goodly number of horses and mules and -stunted oxen, belonging to the farmer-folk who had come in to trade at -the two or three local stores. - -A murder was a rare event in Branson County. Every well-informed citizen -could tell the number of homicides committed in the county for fifty -years back, and whether the slayer, in any given instance, had escaped, -either by flight or acquittal, or had suffered the penalty of the law. -So, when it became known in Troy early one Friday morning in summer, -about ten years after the war, that old Captain Walker, who had served -in Mexico under Scott, and had left an arm on the field of Gettysburg, -had been foully murdered during the night, there was intense excitement -in the village. Business was practically suspended, and the citizens -gathered in little groups to discuss the murder, and speculate upon the -identity of the murderer. It transpired from testimony at the coroner's -inquest, held during the morning, that a strange mulatto had been seen -going in the direction of Captain Walker's house the night before, and -had been met going away from Troy early Friday morning, by a farmer on -his way to town. Other circumstances seemed to connect the stranger with -the crime. The sheriff organized a posse to search for him, and early in -the evening, when most of the citizens of Troy were at supper, the -suspected man was brought in and lodged in the county jail. - -By the following morning the news of the capture had spread to the -farthest limits of the county. A much larger number of people than usual -came to town that Saturday,--bearded men in straw hats and blue homespun -shirts, and butternut trousers of great amplitude of material and -vagueness of outline; women in homespun frocks and slat-bonnets, with -faces as expressionless as the dreary sandhills which gave them a meagre -sustenance. - -The murder was almost the sole topic of conversation. A steady stream of -curious observers visited the house of mourning, and gazed upon the -rugged face of the old veteran, now stiff and cold in death; and more -than one eye dropped a tear at the remembrance of the cheery smile, and -the joke--sometimes superannuated, generally feeble, but always -good-natured--with which the captain had been wont to greet his -acquaintances. There was a growing sentiment of anger among these stern -men, toward the murderer who had thus cut down their friend, and a -strong feeling that ordinary justice was too slight a punishment for -such a crime. - -Toward noon there was an informal gathering of citizens in Dan Tyson's -store. - -"I hear it 'lowed that Square Kyahtah's too sick ter hol' co'te this -evenin'," said one, "an' that the purlim'nary hearin' 'll haf ter go -over 'tel nex' week." - -A look of disappointment went round the crowd. - -"Hit 's the durndes', meanes' murder ever committed in this caounty," -said another, with moody emphasis. - -"I s'pose the nigger 'lowed the Cap'n had some green-backs," observed a -third speaker. - -"The Cap'n," said another, with an air of superior information, "has -left two bairls of Confedrit money, which he 'spected 'ud be good some -day er nuther." - -This statement gave rise to a discussion of the speculative value of -Confederate money; but in a little while the conversation returned to -the murder. - -"Hangin' air too good fer the murderer," said one; "he oughter be burnt, -stidier bein' hung." - -There was an impressive pause at this point, during which a jug of -moonlight whiskey went the round of the crowd. - -"Well," said a round-shouldered farmer, who, in spite of his peaceable -expression and faded gray eye, was known to have been one of the most -daring followers of a rebel guerrilla chieftain, "what air yer gwine ter -do about it? Ef you fellers air gwine ter set down an' let a wuthless -nigger kill the bes' white man in Branson, an' not say nuthin' ner do -nuthin', _I 'll_ move outen the caounty." - -This speech gave tone and direction to the rest of the conversation. -Whether the fear of losing the round-shouldered farmer operated to bring -about the result or not is immaterial to this narrative; but, at all -events, the crowd decided to lynch the negro. They agreed that this was -the least that could be done to avenge the death of their murdered -friend, and that it was a becoming way in which to honor his memory. -They had some vague notions of the majesty of the law and the rights of -the citizen, but in the passion of the moment these sunk into oblivion; -a white man had been killed by a negro. - -"The Cap'n was an ole sodger," said one of his friends solemnly. "He 'll -sleep better when he knows that a co'te-martial has be'n hilt an' -jestice done." - -By agreement the lynchers were to meet at Tyson's store at five o'clock -in the afternoon, and proceed thence to the jail, which was situated -down the Lumberton Dirt Road (as the old turnpike antedating the -plank-road was called), about half a mile south of the court-house. When -the preliminaries of the lynching had been arranged, and a committee -appointed to manage the affair, the crowd dispersed, some to go to their -dinners, and some to secure recruits for the lynching party. - -It was twenty minutes to five o'clock, when an excited negro, panting -and perspiring, rushed up to the back door of Sheriff Campbell's -dwelling, which stood at a little distance from the jail and somewhat -farther than the latter building from the court-house. A turbaned -colored woman came to the door in response to the negro's knock. - -"Hoddy, Sis' Nance." - -"Hoddy, Brer Sam." - -"Is de shurff in," inquired the negro. - -"Yas, Brer Sam, he 's eatin' his dinner," was the answer. - -"Will yer ax 'im ter step ter de do' a minute, Sis' Nance?" - -The woman went into the dining-room, and a moment later the sheriff came -to the door. He was a tall, muscular man, of a ruddier complexion than -is usual among Southerners. A pair of keen, deep-set gray eyes looked -out from under bushy eyebrows, and about his mouth was a masterful -expression, which a full beard, once sandy in color, but now profusely -sprinkled with gray, could not entirely conceal. The day was hot; the -sheriff had discarded his coat and vest, and had his white shirt open at -the throat. - -"What do you want, Sam?" he inquired of the negro, who stood hat in -hand, wiping the moisture from his face with a ragged shirt-sleeve. - -"Shurff, dey gwine ter hang de pris'ner w'at 's lock' up in de jail. -Dey 're comin' dis a-way now. I wuz layin' down on a sack er corn down at -de sto', behine a pile er flour-bairls, w'en I hearn Doc' Cain en Kunnel -Wright talkin' erbout it. I slip' outen de back do', en run here as fas' -as I could. I hearn you say down ter de sto' once't dat you would n't -let nobody take a pris'ner 'way fum you widout walkin' over yo' dead -body, en I thought I 'd let you know 'fo' dey come, so yer could pertec' -de pris'ner." - -The sheriff listened calmly, but his face grew firmer, and a determined -gleam lit up his gray eyes. His frame grew more erect, and he -unconsciously assumed the attitude of a soldier who momentarily expects -to meet the enemy face to face. - -"Much obliged, Sam," he answered. "I 'll protect the prisoner. Who 's -coming?" - -"I dunno who-all _is_ comin'," replied the negro. "Dere 's Mistah -McSwayne, en Doc' Cain, en Maje' McDonal', en Kunnel Wright, en a heap -er yuthers. I wuz so skeered I done furgot mo' d'n half un em. I spec' -dey mus' be mos' here by dis time, so I 'll git outen de way, fer I don' -want nobody fer ter think I wuz mix' up in dis business." The negro -glanced nervously down the road toward the town, and made a movement as -if to go away. - -"Won't you have some dinner first?" asked the sheriff. - -The negro looked longingly in at the open door, and sniffed the -appetizing odor of boiled pork and collards. - -"I ain't got no time fer ter tarry, Shurff," he said, "but Sis' Nance -mought gin me sump'n I could kyar in my han' en eat on de way." - -A moment later Nancy brought him a huge sandwich of split corn-pone, -with a thick slice of fat bacon inserted between the halves, and a -couple of baked yams. The negro hastily replaced his ragged hat on his -head, dropped the yams in the pocket of his capacious trousers, and, -taking the sandwich in his hand, hurried across the road and disappeared -in the woods beyond. - -The sheriff reentered the house, and put on his coat and hat. He then -took down a double-barreled shotgun and loaded it with buckshot. Filling -the chambers of a revolver with fresh cartridges, he slipped it into the -pocket of the sack-coat which he wore. - -A comely young woman in a calico dress watched these proceedings with -anxious surprise. - -"Where are you going, father?" she asked. She had not heard the -conversation with the negro. - -"I am goin' over to the jail," responded the sheriff. "There 's a mob -comin' this way to lynch the nigger we 've got locked up. But they won't -do it," he added, with emphasis. - -"Oh, father! don't go!" pleaded the girl, clinging to his arm; "they 'll -shoot you if you don't give him up." - -"You never mind me, Polly," said her father reassuringly, as he gently -unclasped her hands from his arm. "I 'll take care of myself and the -prisoner, too. There ain't a man in Branson County that would shoot me. -Besides, I have faced fire too often to be scared away from my duty. You -keep close in the house," he continued, "and if any one disturbs you -just use the old horse-pistol in the top bureau drawer. It 's a little -old-fashioned, but it did good work a few years ago." - -The young girl shuddered at this sanguinary allusion, but made no -further objection to her father's departure. - -The sheriff of Branson was a man far above the average of the community -in wealth, education, and social position. His had been one of the few -families in the county that before the war had owned large estates and -numerous slaves. He had graduated at the State University at Chapel -Hill, and had kept up some acquaintance with current literature and -advanced thought. He had traveled some in his youth, and was looked up -to in the county as an authority on all subjects connected with the -outer world. At first an ardent supporter of the Union, he had opposed -the secession movement in his native State as long as opposition availed -to stem the tide of public opinion. Yielding at last to the force of -circumstances, he had entered the Confederate service rather late in the -war, and served with distinction through several campaigns, rising in -time to the rank of colonel. After the war he had taken the oath of -allegiance, and had been chosen by the people as the most available -candidate for the office of sheriff, to which he had been elected -without opposition. He had filled the office for several terms, and was -universally popular with his constituents. - -Colonel or Sheriff Campbell, as he was indifferently called, as the -military or civil title happened to be most important in the opinion of -the person addressing him, had a high sense of the responsibility -attaching to his office. He had sworn to do his duty faithfully, and he -knew what his duty was, as sheriff, perhaps more clearly than he had -apprehended it in other passages of his life. It was, therefore, with no -uncertainty in regard to his course that he prepared his weapons and -went over to the jail. He had no fears for Polly's safety. - -The sheriff had just locked the heavy front door of the jail behind him -when a half dozen horsemen, followed by a crowd of men on foot, came -round a bend in the road and drew near the jail. They halted in front of -the picket fence that surrounded the building, while several of the -committee of arrangements rode on a few rods farther to the sheriff's -house. One of them dismounted and rapped on the door with his -riding-whip. - -"Is the sheriff at home?" he inquired. - -"No, he has just gone out," replied Polly, who had come to the door. - -"We want the jail keys," he continued. - -"They are not here," said Polly. "The sheriff has them himself." Then -she added, with assumed indifference, "He is at the jail now." - -The man turned away, and Polly went into the front room, from which she -peered anxiously between the slats of the green blinds of a window that -looked toward the jail. Meanwhile the messenger returned to his -companions and announced his discovery. It looked as though the sheriff -had learned of their design and was preparing to resist it. - -One of them stepped forward and rapped on the jail door. - -"Well, what is it?" said the sheriff, from within. - -"We want to talk to you, Sheriff," replied the spokesman. - -There was a little wicket in the door; this the sheriff opened, and -answered through it. - -"All right, boys, talk away. You are all strangers to me, and I don't -know what business you can have." The sheriff did not think it necessary -to recognize anybody in particular on such an occasion; the question of -identity sometimes comes up in the investigation of these extra-judicial -executions. - -"We 're a committee of citizens and we want to get into the jail." - -"What for? It ain't much trouble to get into jail. Most people want to -keep out." - -The mob was in no humor to appreciate a joke, and the sheriff's -witticism fell dead upon an unresponsive audience. - -"We want to have a talk with the nigger that killed Cap'n Walker." - -"You can talk to that nigger in the court-house, when he 's brought out -for trial. Court will be in session here next week. I know what you -fellows want, but you can't get my prisoner to-day. Do you want to take -the bread out of a poor man's mouth? I get seventy-five cents a day for -keeping this prisoner, and he 's the only one in jail. I can't have my -family suffer just to please you fellows." - -One or two young men in the crowd laughed at the idea of Sheriff -Campbell's suffering for want of seventy-five cents a day; but they were -frowned into silence by those who stood near them. - -"Ef yer don't let us in," cried a voice, "we 'll bu's' the do' open." - -"Bust away," answered the sheriff, raising his voice so that all could -hear. "But I give you fair warning. The first man that tries it will be -filled with buckshot. I 'm sheriff of this county; I know my duty, and I -mean to do it." - -"What 's the use of kicking, Sheriff," argued one of the leaders of the -mob. "The nigger is sure to hang anyhow; he richly deserves it; and we 've -got to do something to teach the niggers their places, or white people -won't be able to live in the county." - -"There 's no use talking, boys," responded the sheriff. "I 'm a white -man outside, but in this jail I 'm sheriff; and if this nigger 's to be -hung in this county, I propose to do the hanging. So you fellows might -as well right-about-face, and march back to Troy. You 've had a pleasant -trip, and the exercise will be good for you. You know _me_. I 've got -powder and ball, and I 've faced fire before now, with nothing between -me and the enemy, and I don't mean to surrender this jail while I 'm -able to shoot." Having thus announced his determination, the sheriff -closed and fastened the wicket, and looked around for the best position -from which to defend the building. - -The crowd drew off a little, and the leaders conversed together in low -tones. - -The Branson County jail was a small, two-story brick building, strongly -constructed, with no attempt at architectural ornamentation. Each story -was divided into two large cells by a passage running from front to -rear. A grated iron door gave entrance from the passage to each of the -four cells. The jail seldom had many prisoners in it, and the lower -windows had been boarded up. When the sheriff had closed the wicket, he -ascended the steep wooden stairs to the upper floor. There was no window -at the front of the upper passage, and the most available position from -which to watch the movements of the crowd below was the front window of -the cell occupied by the solitary prisoner. - -The sheriff unlocked the door and entered the cell. The prisoner was -crouched in a corner, his yellow face, blanched with terror, looking -ghastly in the semi-darkness of the room. A cold perspiration had -gathered on his forehead, and his teeth were chattering with affright. - -"For God's sake, Sheriff," he murmured hoarsely, "don't let 'em lynch -me; I did n't kill the old man." - -The sheriff glanced at the cowering wretch with a look of mingled -contempt and loathing. - -"Get up," he said sharply. "You will probably be hung sooner or later, -but it shall not be to-day, if I can help it. I 'll unlock your fetters, -and if I can't hold the jail, you 'll have to make the best fight you -can. If I 'm shot, I 'll consider my responsibility at an end." - -There were iron fetters on the prisoner's ankles, and handcuffs on his -wrists. These the sheriff unlocked, and they fell clanking to the floor. - -"Keep back from the window," said the sheriff. "They might shoot if they -saw you." - -The sheriff drew toward the window a pine bench which formed a part of -the scanty furniture of the cell, and laid his revolver upon it. Then he -took his gun in hand, and took his stand at the side of the window where -he could with least exposure of himself watch the movements of the crowd -below. - -The lynchers had not anticipated any determined resistance. Of course -they had looked for a formal protest, and perhaps a sufficient show of -opposition to excuse the sheriff in the eye of any stickler for legal -formalities. They had not however come prepared to fight a battle, and -no one of them seemed willing to lead an attack upon the jail. The -leaders of the party conferred together with a good deal of animated -gesticulation, which was visible to the sheriff from his outlook, though -the distance was too great for him to hear what was said. At length one -of them broke away from the group, and rode back to the main body of the -lynchers, who were restlessly awaiting orders. - -"Well, boys," said the messenger, "we 'll have to let it go for the -present. The sheriff says he 'll shoot, and he 's got the drop on us -this time. There ain't any of us that want to follow Cap'n Walker jest -yet. Besides, the sheriff is a good fellow, and we don't want to hurt -'im. But," he added, as if to reassure the crowd, which began to show -signs of disappointment, "the nigger might as well say his prayers, for -he ain't got long to live." - -There was a murmur of dissent from the mob, and several voices insisted -that an attack be made on the jail. But pacific counsels finally -prevailed, and the mob sullenly withdrew. - -The sheriff stood at the window until they had disappeared around the -bend in the road. He did not relax his watchfulness when the last one -was out of sight. Their withdrawal might be a mere feint, to be -followed by a further attempt. So closely, indeed, was his attention -drawn to the outside, that he neither saw nor heard the prisoner creep -stealthily across the floor, reach out his hand and secure the revolver -which lay on the bench behind the sheriff, and creep as noiselessly back -to his place in the corner of the room. - -A moment after the last of the lynching party had disappeared there was -a shot fired from the woods across the road; a bullet whistled by the -window and buried itself in the wooden casing a few inches from where -the sheriff was standing. Quick as thought, with the instinct born of a -semi-guerrilla army experience, he raised his gun and fired twice at the -point from which a faint puff of smoke showed the hostile bullet to have -been sent. He stood a moment watching, and then rested his gun against -the window, and reached behind him mechanically for the other weapon. It -was not on the bench. As the sheriff realized this fact, he turned his -head and looked into the muzzle of the revolver. - -"Stay where you are, Sheriff," said the prisoner, his eyes glistening, -his face almost ruddy with excitement. - -The sheriff mentally cursed his own carelessness for allowing him to be -caught in such a predicament. He had not expected anything of the kind. -He had relied on the negro's cowardice and subordination in the presence -of an armed white man as a matter of course. The sheriff was a brave -man, but realized that the prisoner had him at an immense disadvantage. -The two men stood thus for a moment, fighting a harmless duel with their -eyes. - -"Well, what do you mean to do?" asked the sheriff with apparent -calmness. - -"To get away, of course," said the prisoner, in a tone which caused the -sheriff to look at him more closely, and with an involuntary feeling of -apprehension; if the man was not mad, he was in a state of mind akin to -madness, and quite as dangerous. The sheriff felt that he must speak the -prisoner fair, and watch for a chance to turn the tables on him. The -keen-eyed, desperate man before him was a different being altogether -from the groveling wretch who had begged so piteously for life a few -minutes before. - -At length the sheriff spoke:---- - -"Is this your gratitude to me for saving your life at the risk of my -own? If I had not done so, you would now be swinging from the limb of -some neighboring tree." - -"True," said the prisoner, "you saved my life, but for how long? When -you came in, you said Court would sit next week. When the crowd went -away they said I had not long to live. It is merely a choice of two -ropes." - -"While there 's life there 's hope," replied the sheriff. He uttered -this commonplace mechanically, while his brain was busy in trying to -think out some way of escape. "If you are innocent you can prove it." - -The mulatto kept his eye upon the sheriff. "I did n't kill the old man," -he replied; "but I shall never be able to clear myself. I was at his -house at nine o'clock. I stole from it the coat that was on my back when -I was taken. I would be convicted, even with a fair trial, unless the -real murderer were discovered beforehand." - -The sheriff knew this only too well. While he was thinking what argument -next to use, the prisoner continued:---- - -"Throw me the keys--no, unlock the door." - -The sheriff stood a moment irresolute. The mulatto's eye glittered -ominously. The sheriff crossed the room and unlocked the door leading -into the passage. - -"Now go down and unlock the outside door." - -The heart of the sheriff leaped within him. Perhaps he might make a dash -for liberty, and gain the outside. He descended the narrow stairs, the -prisoner keeping close behind him. - -The sheriff inserted the huge iron key into the lock. The rusty bolt -yielded slowly. It still remained for him to pull the door open. - -"Stop!" thundered the mulatto, who seemed to divine the sheriff's -purpose. "Move a muscle, and I 'll blow your brains out." - -The sheriff obeyed; he realized that his chance had not yet come. - -"Now keep on that side of the passage, and go back upstairs." - -Keeping the sheriff under cover of the revolver, the mulatto followed -him up the stairs. The sheriff expected the prisoner to lock him into -the cell and make his own escape. He had about come to the conclusion -that the best thing he could do under the circumstances was to submit -quietly, and take his chances of recapturing the prisoner after the -alarm had been given. The sheriff had faced death more than once upon -the battlefield. A few minutes before, well armed, and with a brick wall -between him and them he had dared a hundred men to fight; but he felt -instinctively that the desperate man confronting him was not to be -trifled with, and he was too prudent a man to risk his life against such -heavy odds. He had Polly to look after, and there was a limit beyond -which devotion to duty would be quixotic and even foolish. - -"I want to get away," said the prisoner, "and I don't want to be -captured; for if I am I know I will be hung on the spot. I am afraid," -he added somewhat reflectively, "that in order to save myself I shall -have to kill you." - -"Good God!" exclaimed the sheriff in involuntary terror; "you would not -kill the man to whom you owe your own life." - -"You speak more truly than you know," replied the mulatto. "I indeed owe -my life to you." - -The sheriff started, he was capable of surprise, even in that moment of -extreme peril. "Who are you?" he asked in amazement. - -"Tom, Cicely's son," returned the other. He had closed the door and -stood talking to the sheriff through the grated opening. "Don't you -remember Cicely--Cicely whom you sold, with her child, to the speculator -on his way to Alabama?" - -The sheriff did remember. He had been sorry for it many a time since. It -had been the old story of debts, mortgages, and bad crops. He had -quarreled with the mother. The price offered for her and her child had -been unusually large, and he had yielded to the combination of anger and -pecuniary stress. - -"Good God!" he gasped, "you would not murder your own father?" - -"My father?" replied the mulatto. "It were well enough for me to claim -the relationship, but it comes with poor grace from you to ask anything -by reason of it. What father's duty have you ever performed for me? Did -you give me your name, or even your protection? Other white men gave -their colored sons freedom and money, and sent them to the free States. -_You_ sold _me_ to the rice swamps." - -"I at least gave you the life you cling to," murmured the sheriff. - -"Life?" said the prisoner, with a sarcastic laugh. "What kind of a life? -You gave me your own blood, your own features,--no man need look at us -together twice to see that,--and you gave me a black mother. Poor -wretch! She died under the lash, because she had enough womanhood to -call her soul her own. You gave me a white man's spirit, and you made me -a slave, and crushed it out." - -"But you are free now," said the sheriff. He had not doubted, could not -doubt, the mulatto's word. He knew whose passions coursed beneath that -swarthy skin and burned in the black eyes opposite his own. He saw in -this mulatto what he himself might have become had not the safeguards of -parental restraint and public opinion been thrown around him. - -"Free to do what?" replied the mulatto. "Free in name, but despised and -scorned and set aside by the people to whose race I belong far more than -to my mother's." - -"There are schools," said the sheriff. "You have been to school." He had -noticed that the mulatto spoke more eloquently and used better language -than most Branson County people. - -"I have been to school, and dreamed when I went that it would work some -marvelous change in my condition. But what did I learn? I learned to -feel that no degree of learning or wisdom will change the color of my -skin and that I shall always wear what in my own country is a badge of -degradation. When I think about it seriously I do not care particularly -for such a life. It is the animal in me, not the man, that flees the -gallows. I owe you nothing," he went on, "and expect nothing of you; and -it would be no more than justice if I should avenge upon you my mother's -wrongs and my own. But still I hate to shoot you; I have never yet taken -human life--for I did _not_ kill the old captain. Will you promise to -give no alarm and make no attempt to capture me until morning, if I do -not shoot?" - -So absorbed were the two men in their colloquy and their own tumultuous -thoughts that neither of them had heard the door below move upon its -hinges. Neither of them had heard a light step come stealthily up the -stairs, nor seen a slender form creep along the darkening passage toward -the mulatto. - -The sheriff hesitated. The struggle between his love of life and his -sense of duty was a terrific one. It may seem strange that a man who -could sell his own child into slavery should hesitate at such a moment, -when his life was trembling in the balance. But the baleful influence of -human slavery poisoned the very fountains of life, and created new -standards of right. The sheriff was conscientious; his conscience had -merely been warped by his environment. Let no one ask what his answer -would have been; he was spared the necessity of a decision. - -"Stop," said the mulatto, "you need not promise. I could not trust you -if you did. It is your life for mine; there is but one safe way for me; -you must die." - -He raised his arm to fire, when there was a flash--a report from the -passage behind him. His arm fell heavily at his side, and the pistol -dropped at his feet. - -The sheriff recovered first from his surprise, and throwing open the -door secured the fallen weapon. Then seizing the prisoner he thrust him -into the cell and locked the door upon him; after which he turned to -Polly, who leaned half-fainting against the wall, her hands clasped over -her heart. - -"Oh, father, I was just in time!" she cried hysterically, and, wildly -sobbing, threw herself into her father's arms. - -"I watched until they all went away," she said. "I heard the shot from -the woods and I saw you shoot. Then when you did not come out I feared -something had happened, that perhaps you had been wounded. I got out the -other pistol and ran over here. When I found the door open, I knew -something was wrong, and when I heard voices I crept upstairs, and -reached the top just in time to hear him say he would kill you. Oh, it -was a narrow escape!" - -When she had grown somewhat calmer, the sheriff left her standing there -and went back into the cell. The prisoner's arm was bleeding from a -flesh wound. His bravado had given place to a stony apathy. There was no -sign in his face of fear or disappointment or feeling of any kind. The -sheriff sent Polly to the house for cloth, and bound up the prisoner's -wound with a rude skill acquired during his army life. - -"I 'll have a doctor come and dress the wound in the morning," he said -to the prisoner. "It will do very well until then, if you will keep -quiet. If the doctor asks you how the wound was caused, you can say that -you were struck by the bullet fired from the woods. It would do you no -good to have it known that you were shot while attempting to escape." - -The prisoner uttered no word of thanks or apology, but sat in sullen -silence. When the wounded arm had been bandaged, Polly and her father -returned to the house. - -The sheriff was in an unusually thoughtful mood that evening. He put -salt in his coffee at supper, and poured vinegar over his pancakes. To -many of Polly's questions he returned random answers. When he had gone -to bed he lay awake for several hours. - -In the silent watches of the night, when he was alone with God, there -came into his mind a flood of unaccustomed thoughts. An hour or two -before, standing face to face with death, he had experienced a sensation -similar to that which drowning men are said to feel--a kind of -clarifying of the moral faculty, in which the veil of the flesh, with -its obscuring passions and prejudices, is pushed aside for a moment, and -all the acts of one's life stand out, in the clear light of truth, in -their correct proportions and relations,--a state of mind in which one -sees himself as God may be supposed to see him. In the reaction -following his rescue, this feeling had given place for a time to far -different emotions. But now, in the silence of midnight, something of -this clearness of spirit returned to the sheriff. He saw that he had -owed some duty to this son of his,--that neither law nor custom could -destroy a responsibility inherent in the nature of mankind. He could not -thus, in the eyes of God at least, shake off the consequences of his -sin. Had he never sinned, this wayward spirit would never have come back -from the vanished past to haunt him. As these thoughts came, his anger -against the mulatto died away, and in its place there sprang up a great -pity. The hand of parental authority might have restrained the passions -he had seen burning in the prisoner's eyes when the desperate man spoke -the words which had seemed to doom his father to death. The sheriff -felt that he might have saved this fiery spirit from the slough of -slavery; that he might have sent him to the free North, and given him -there, or in some other land, an opportunity to turn to usefulness and -honorable pursuits the talents that had run to crime, perhaps to -madness; he might, still less, have given this son of his the poor -simulacrum of liberty which men of his caste could possess in a -slave-holding community; or least of all, but still something, he might -have kept the boy on the plantation, where the burdens of slavery would -have fallen lightly upon him. - -The sheriff recalled his own youth. He had inherited an honored name to -keep untarnished; he had had a future to make; the picture of a fair -young bride had beckoned him on to happiness. The poor wretch now -stretched upon a pallet of straw between the brick walls of the jail had -had none of these things,--no name, no father, no mother--in the true -meaning of motherhood,--and until the past few years no possible future, -and then one vague and shadowy in its outline, and dependent for form -and substance upon the slow solution of a problem in which there were -many unknown quantities. - -From what he might have done to what he might yet do was an easy -transition for the awakened conscience of the sheriff. It occurred to -him, purely as a hypothesis, that he might permit his prisoner to -escape; but his oath of office, his duty as sheriff, stood in the way of -such a course, and the sheriff dismissed the idea from his mind. He -could, however, investigate the circumstances of the murder, and move -Heaven and earth to discover the real criminal, for he no longer doubted -the prisoner's innocence; he could employ counsel for the accused, and -perhaps influence public opinion in his favor. An acquittal once -secured, some plan could be devised by which the sheriff might in some -degree atone for his crime against this son of his--against -society--against God. - -When the sheriff had reached this conclusion he fell into an unquiet -slumber, from which he awoke late the next morning. - -He went over to the jail before breakfast and found the prisoner lying -on his pallet, his face turned to the wall; he did not move when the -sheriff rattled the door. - -"Good-morning," said the latter, in a tone intended to waken the -prisoner. - -There was no response. The sheriff looked more keenly at the recumbent -figure; there was an unnatural rigidity about its attitude. - -He hastily unlocked the door and, entering the cell, bent over the -prostrate form. There was no sound of breathing; he turned the body -over--it was cold and stiff. The prisoner had torn the bandage from his -wound and bled to death during the night. He had evidently been dead -several hours. - - - - -A Matter of Principle - - - -I - - -"What our country needs most in its treatment of the race problem," -observed Mr. Cicero Clayton at one of the monthly meetings of the Blue -Vein Society, of which he was a prominent member, "is a clearer -conception of the brotherhood of man." - -The same sentiment in much the same words had often fallen from Mr. -Clayton's lips,--so often, in fact, that the younger members of the -society sometimes spoke of him--among themselves of course--as -"Brotherhood Clayton." The sobriquet derived its point from the -application he made of the principle involved in this oft-repeated -proposition. - -The fundamental article of Mr. Clayton's social creed was that he -himself was not a negro. - -"I know," he would say, "that the white people lump us all together as -negroes, and condemn us all to the same social ostracism. But I don't -accept this classification, for my part, and I imagine that, as the -chief party in interest, I have a right to my opinion. People who belong -by half or more of their blood to the most virile and progressive race -of modern times have as much right to call themselves white as others -have to call them negroes." - -Mr. Clayton spoke warmly, for he was well informed, and had thought much -upon the subject; too much, indeed, for he had not been able to escape -entirely the tendency of too much concentration upon one subject to make -even the clearest minds morbid. - -"Of course we can't enforce our claims, or protect ourselves from being -robbed of our birthright; but we can at least have principles, and try -to live up to them the best we can. If we are not accepted as white, we -can at any rate make it clear that we object to being called black. Our -protest cannot fail in time to impress itself upon the better class of -white people; for the Anglo-Saxon race loves justice, and will -eventually do it, where it does not conflict with their own interests." - -Whether or not the fact that Mr. Clayton meant no sarcasm, and was -conscious of no inconsistency in this eulogy, tended to establish the -racial identity he claimed may safely be left to the discerning reader. - -In living up to his creed Mr. Clayton declined to associate to any -considerable extent with black people. This was sometimes a little -inconvenient, and occasionally involved a sacrifice of some pleasure for -himself and his family, because they would not attend entertainments -where many black people were likely to be present. But they had a social -refuge in a little society of people like themselves; they attended, -too, a church, of which nearly all the members were white, and they were -connected with a number of the religious and benevolent associations -open to all good citizens, where they came into contact with the better -class of white people, and were treated, in their capacity of members, -with a courtesy and consideration scarcely different from that accorded -to other citizens. - -Mr. Clayton's racial theory was not only logical enough, but was in his -own case backed up by substantial arguments. He had begun life with a -small patrimony, and had invested his money in a restaurant, which by -careful and judicious attention had grown from a cheap eating-house into -the most popular and successful confectionery and catering establishment -in Groveland. His business occupied a double store on Oakwood Avenue. He -owned houses and lots, and stocks and bonds, had good credit at the -banks, and lived in a style befitting his income and business standing. -In person he was of olive complexion, with slightly curly hair. His -features approached the Cuban or Latin-American type rather than the -familiar broad characteristics of the mulatto, this suggestion of -something foreign being heightened by a Vandyke beard and a carefully -waxed and pointed mustache. When he walked to church on Sunday mornings -with his daughter Alice, they were a couple of such striking appearance -as surely to attract attention. - -Miss Alice Clayton was queen of her social set. She was young, she was -handsome. She was nearly white; she frankly confessed her sorrow that -she was not entirely so. She was accomplished and amiable, dressed in -good taste, and had for her father by all odds the richest colored -man--the term is used with apologies to Mr. Clayton, explaining that it -does not necessarily mean a negro--in Groveland. So pronounced was her -superiority that really she had but one social rival worthy of the -name,--Miss Lura Watkins, whose father kept a prosperous livery stable -and lived in almost as good style as the Claytons. Miss Watkins, while -good-looking enough, was not so young nor quite so white as Miss -Clayton. She was popular, however, among their mutual acquaintances, and -there was a good-natured race between the two as to which should make -the first and best marriage. - -Marriages among Miss Clayton's set were serious affairs. Of course -marriage is always a serious matter, whether it be a success or a -failure, and there are those who believe that any marriage is better -than no marriage. But among Miss Clayton's friends and associates -matrimony took on an added seriousness because of the very narrow limits -within which it could take place. Miss Clayton and her friends, by -reason of their assumed superiority to black people, or perhaps as much -by reason of a somewhat morbid shrinking from the curiosity manifested -toward married people of strongly contrasting colors, would not marry -black men, and except in rare instances white men would not marry them. -They were therefore restricted for a choice to the young men of their -own complexion. But these, unfortunately for the girls, had a wider -choice. In any State where the laws permit freedom of the marriage -contract, a man, by virtue of his sex, can find a wife of whatever -complexion he prefers; of course he must not always ask too much in -other respects, for most women like to better their social position when -they marry. To the number thus lost by "going on the other side," as the -phrase went, add the worthless contingent whom no self-respecting woman -would marry, and the choice was still further restricted; so that it had -become fashionable, when the supply of eligible men ran short, for those -of Miss Clayton's set who could afford it to go traveling, ostensibly -for pleasure, but with the serious hope that they might meet their fate -away from home. - -Miss Clayton had perhaps a larger option than any of her associates. -Among such men as there were she could have taken her choice. Her -beauty, her position, her accomplishments, her father's wealth, all made -her eminently desirable. But, on the other hand, the same things -rendered her more difficult to reach, and harder to please. To get -access to her heart, too, it was necessary to run the gauntlet of her -parents, which, until she had reached the age of twenty-three, no one -had succeeded in doing safely. Many had called, but none had been -chosen. - -There was, however, one spot left unguarded, and through it Cupid, a -veteran sharpshooter, sent a dart. Mr. Clayton had taken into his -service and into his household a poor relation, a sort of cousin several -times removed. This boy--his name was Jack--had gone into Mr. Clayton's -service at a very youthful age,--twelve or thirteen. He had helped about -the housework, washed the dishes, swept the floors, taken care of the -lawn and the stable for three or four years, while he attended school. -His cousin had then taken him into the store, where he had swept the -floor, washed the windows, and done a class of work that kept fully -impressed upon him the fact that he was a poor dependent. Nevertheless -he was a cheerful lad, who took what he could get and was properly -grateful, but always meant to get more. By sheer force of industry and -affability and shrewdness, he forced his employer to promote him in time -to a position of recognized authority in the establishment. Any one -outside of the family would have perceived in him a very suitable -husband for Miss Clayton; he was of about the same age, or a year or two -older, was as fair of complexion as she, when she was not powdered, and -was passably good-looking, with a bearing of which the natural manliness -had been no more warped than his training and racial status had rendered -inevitable; for he had early learned the law of growth, that to bend is -better than to break. He was sometimes sent to accompany Miss Clayton to -places in the evening, when she had no other escort, and it is quite -likely that she discovered his good points before her parents did. That -they should in time perceive them was inevitable. But even then, so -accustomed were they to looking down upon the object of their former -bounty, that they only spoke of the matter jocularly. - -"Well, Alice," her father would say in his bluff way, "you 'll not be -absolutely obliged to die an old maid. If we can't find anything better -for you, there 's always Jack. As long as he does n't take to some other -girl, you can fall back on him as a last chance. He 'd be glad to take -you to get into the business." - -Miss Alice had considered the joke a very poor one when first made, but -by occasional repetition she became somewhat familiar with it. In time -it got around to Jack himself, to whom it seemed no joke at all. He had -long considered it a consummation devoutly to be wished, and when he -became aware that the possibility of such a match had occurred to the -other parties in interest, he made up his mind that the idea should in -due course of time become an accomplished fact. He had even suggested as -much to Alice, in a casual way, to feel his ground; and while she had -treated the matter lightly, he was not without hope that she had been -impressed by the suggestion. Before he had had time, however, to follow -up this lead, Miss Clayton, in the spring of 187-, went away on a visit -to Washington. - -The occasion of her visit was a presidential inauguration. The new -President owed his nomination mainly to the votes of the Southern -delegates in the convention, and was believed to be correspondingly well -disposed to the race from which the Southern delegates were for the most -part recruited. Friends of rival and unsuccessful candidates for the -nomination had more than hinted that the Southern delegates were very -substantially rewarded for their support at the time when it was given; -whether this was true or not the parties concerned know best. At any -rate the colored politicians did not see it in that light, for they were -gathered from near and far to press their claims for recognition and -patronage. On the evening following the White House inaugural ball, the -colored people of Washington gave an "inaugural" ball at a large public -hall. It was under the management of their leading citizens, among them -several high officials holding over from the last administration, and a -number of professional and business men. This ball was the most -noteworthy social event that colored circles up to that time had ever -known. There were many visitors from various parts of the country. Miss -Clayton attended the ball, the honors of which she carried away easily. -She danced with several partners, and was introduced to innumerable -people whom she had never seen before, and whom she hardly expected ever -to meet again. She went away from the ball, at four o'clock in the -morning, in a glow of triumph, and with a confused impression of -senators and representatives and lawyers and doctors of all shades, who -had sought an introduction, led her through the dance, and overwhelmed -her with compliments. She returned home the next day but one, after the -most delightful week of her life. - - - -II - - -One afternoon, about three weeks after her return from Washington, Alice -received a letter through the mail. The envelope bore the words "House -of Representatives" printed in one corner, and in the opposite corner, -in a bold running hand, a Congressman's frank, "Hamilton M. Brown, M.C." -The letter read as follows:---- - - -House of Representatives, -Washington, D.C., March 30, 187-. - -Miss Alice Clayton, Groveland. - -Dear Friend (if I may be permitted to call you so after so brief an -acquaintance),--I remember with sincerest pleasure our recent meeting at -the inaugural ball, and the sensation created by your beauty, your -amiable manners, and your graceful dancing. Time has so strengthened the -impression I then received, that I should have felt inconsolable had I -thought it impossible ever to again behold the charms which had -brightened the occasion of our meeting and eclipsed by their brilliancy -the leading belles of the capital. I had hoped, however, to have the -pleasure of meeting you again, and circumstances have fortunately placed -it in my power to do so at an early date. You have doubtless learned -that the contest over the election in the Sixth Congressional District -of South Carolina has been decided in my favor, and that I now have the -honor of representing my native State at the national capital. I have -just been appointed a member of a special committee to visit and inspect -the Sault River and the Straits of Mackinac, with reference to the needs -of lake navigation. I have made arrangements to start a week ahead of -the other members of the committee, whom I am to meet in Detroit on the -20th. I shall leave here on the 2d, and will arrive in Groveland on the -3d, by the 7.30 evening express. I shall remain in Groveland several -days, in the course of which I shall be pleased to call, and renew the -acquaintance so auspiciously begun in Washington, which it is my fondest -hope may ripen into a warmer friendship. - -If you do not regard my visit as presumptuous, and do not write me in -the mean while forbidding it, I shall do myself the pleasure of waiting -on you the morning after my arrival in Groveland. - -With renewed expressions of my sincere admiration and profound esteem, I -remain, - -Sincerely yours, -Hamilton M. Brown, M.C. - -To Alice, and especially to her mother, this bold and flowery letter had -very nearly the force of a formal declaration. They read it over again -and again, and spent most of the afternoon discussing it. There were few -young men in Groveland eligible as husbands for so superior a person as -Alice Clayton, and an addition to the number would be very acceptable. -But the mere fact of his being a Congressman was not sufficient to -qualify him; there were other considerations. - -"I 've never heard of this Honorable Hamilton M. Brown," said Mr. -Clayton. The letter had been laid before him at the supper-table. "It 's -strange, Alice, that you have n't said anything about him before. You -must have met lots of swell folks not to recollect a Congressman." - -"But he was n't a Congressman then," answered Alice; "he was only a -claimant. I remember Senator Bruce, and Mr. Douglass; but there were so -many doctors and lawyers and politicians that I could n't keep track of -them all. Still I have a faint impression of a Mr. Brown who danced with -me." - -She went into the parlor and brought out the dancing programme she had -used at the Washington ball. She had decorated it with a bow of blue -ribbon and preserved it as a souvenir of her visit. - -"Yes," she said, after examining it, "I must have danced with him. Here -are the initials--'H.M.B.'" - -"What color is he?" asked Mr. Clayton, as he plied his knife and fork. - -"I have a notion that he was rather dark--darker than any one I had ever -danced with before." - -"Why did you dance with him?" asked her father. "You were n't obliged to -go back on your principles because you were away from home." - -"Well, father, 'when you 're in Rome'--you know the rest. Mrs. -Clearweather introduced me to several dark men, to him among others. -They were her friends, and common decency required me to be courteous." - -"If this man is black, we don't want to encourage him. If he 's the -right sort, we 'll invite him to the house." - -"And make him feel at home," added Mrs. Clayton, on hospitable thoughts -intent. - -"We must ask Sadler about him to-morrow," said Mr. Clayton, when he had -drunk his coffee and lighted his cigar. "If he 's the right man he shall -have cause to remember his visit to Groveland. We 'll show him that -Washington is not the only town on earth." - -The uncertainty of the family with regard to Mr. Brown was soon removed. -Mr. Solomon Sadler, who was supposed to know everything worth knowing -concerning the colored race, and everybody of importance connected with -it, dropped in after supper to make an evening call. Sadler was familiar -with the history of every man of negro ancestry who had distinguished -himself in any walk of life. He could give the pedigree of Alexander -Pushkin, the titles of scores of Dumas's novels (even Sadler had not -time to learn them all), and could recite the whole of Wendell -Phillips's lecture on Toussaint l'Ouverture. He claimed a personal -acquaintance with Mr. Frederick Douglass, and had been often in -Washington, where he was well known and well received in good colored -society. - -"Let me see," he said reflectively, when asked for information about -the Honorable Hamilton M. Brown. "Yes, I think I know him. He studied at -Oberlin just after the war. He was about leaving there when I entered. -There were two H.M. Browns there--a Hamilton M. Brown and a Henry M. -Brown. One was stout and dark and the other was slim and quite light; -you could scarcely tell him from a dark white man. They used to call -them 'light Brown' and 'dark Brown.' I did n't know either of them -except by sight, for they were there only a few weeks after I went in. -As I remember them, Hamilton was the fair one--a very good-looking, -gentlemanly fellow, and, as I heard, a good student and a fine speaker." - -"Do you remember what kind of hair he had?" asked Mr. Clayton. - -"Very good indeed; straight, as I remember it. He looked something like -a Spaniard or a Portuguese." - -"Now that you describe him," said Alice, "I remember quite well dancing -with such a gentleman; and I 'm wrong about my 'H.M.B.' The dark man -must have been some one else; there are two others on my card that I -can't remember distinctly, and he was probably one of those." - -"I guess he 's all right, Alice," said her father when Sadler had gone -away. "He evidently means business, and we must treat him white. Of -course he must stay with us; there are no hotels in Groveland while he -is here. Let 's see--he 'll be here in three days. That is n't very -long, but I guess we can get ready. I 'll write a letter this -afternoon--or you write it, and invite him to the house, and say I 'll -meet him at the depot. And you may have _carte blanche_ for making the -preparations." - -"We must have some people to meet him." - -"Certainly; a reception is the proper thing. Sit down immediately and -write the letter and I 'll mail it first thing in the morning, so he 'll -get it before he has time to make other arrangements. And you and your -mother put your heads together and make out a list of guests, and I 'll -have the invitations printed to-morrow. We will show the darkeys of -Groveland how to entertain a Congressman." - -It will be noted that in moments of abstraction or excitement Mr. -Clayton sometimes relapsed into forms of speech not entirely consistent -with his principles. But some allowance must be made for his -atmosphere; he could no more escape from it than the leopard can change -his spots, or the--In deference to Mr. Clayton's feelings the quotation -will be left incomplete. - -Alice wrote the letter on the spot and it was duly mailed, and sped on -its winged way to Washington. - -The preparations for the reception were made as thoroughly and -elaborately as possible on so short a notice. The invitations were -issued; the house was cleaned from attic to cellar; an orchestra was -engaged for the evening; elaborate floral decorations were planned and -the flowers ordered. Even the refreshments, which ordinarily, in the -household of a caterer, would be mere matter of familiar detail, became -a subject of serious consultation and study. - -The approaching event was a matter of very much interest to the -fortunate ones who were honored with invitations, and this for several -reasons. They were anxious to meet this sole representative of their -race in the --th Congress, and as he was not one of the old-line colored -leaders, but a new star risen on the political horizon, there was a -special curiosity to see who he was and what he looked like. Moreover, -the Claytons did not often entertain a large company, but when they did, -it was on a scale commensurate with their means and position, and to be -present on such an occasion was a thing to remember and to talk about. -And, most important consideration of all, some remarks dropped by -members of the Clayton family had given rise to the rumor that the -Congressman was seeking a wife. This invested his visit with a romantic -interest, and gave the reception a practical value; for there were other -marriageable girls besides Miss Clayton, and if one was left another -might be taken. - - - -III - - -On the evening of April 3d, at fifteen minutes of six o'clock, Mr. -Clayton, accompanied by Jack, entered the livery carriage waiting at his -gate and ordered the coachman to drive to the Union Depot. He had taken -Jack along, partly for company, and partly that Jack might relieve the -Congressman of any trouble about his baggage, and make himself useful in -case of emergency. Jack was willing enough to go, for he had foreseen -in the visitor a rival for Alice's hand,--indeed he had heard more or -less of the subject for several days,--and was glad to make a -reconnaissance before the enemy arrived upon the field of battle. He had -made--at least he had thought so--considerable progress with Alice -during the three weeks since her return from Washington, and once or -twice Alice had been perilously near the tender stage. This visit had -disturbed the situation and threatened to ruin his chances; but he did -not mean to give up without a struggle. - -Arrived at the main entrance, Mr. Clayton directed the carriage to wait, -and entered the station with Jack. The Union Depot at Groveland was an -immense oblong structure, covering a dozen parallel tracks and -furnishing terminal passenger facilities for half a dozen railroads. The -tracks ran east and west, and the depot was entered from the south, at -about the middle of the building. On either side of the entrance, the -waiting-rooms, refreshment rooms, baggage and express departments, and -other administrative offices, extended in a row for the entire length of -the building; and beyond them and parallel with them stretched a long -open space, separated from the tracks by an iron fence or _grille_. -There were two entrance gates in the fence, at which tickets must be -shown before access could be had to trains, and two other gates, by -which arriving passengers came out. - -Mr. Clayton looked at the blackboard on the wall underneath the station -clock, and observed that the 7.30 train from Washington was five minutes -late. Accompanied by Jack he walked up and down the platform until the -train, with the usual accompaniment of panting steam and clanging bell -and rumbling trucks, pulled into the station, and drew up on the third -or fourth track from the iron railing. Mr. Clayton stationed himself at -the gate nearest the rear end of the train, reasoning that the -Congressman would ride in a parlor car, and would naturally come out by -the gate nearest the point at which he left the train. - -"You 'd better go and stand by the other gate, Jack," he said to his -companion, "and stop him if he goes out that way." - -The train was well filled and a stream of passengers poured through. -Mr. Clayton scanned the crowd carefully as they approached the gate, and -scrutinized each passenger as he came through, without seeing any one -that met the description of Congressman Brown, as given by Sadler, or -any one that could in his opinion be the gentleman for whom he was -looking. When the last one had passed through he was left to the -conclusion that his expected guest had gone out by the other gate. Mr. -Clayton hastened thither. - -"Did n't he come out this way, Jack?" he asked. - -"No, sir," replied the young man, "I have n't seen him." - -"That 's strange," mused Mr. Clayton, somewhat anxiously. "He would -hardly fail to come without giving us notice. Surely we must have missed -him. We 'd better look around a little. You go that way and I 'll go -this." - -Mr. Clayton turned and walked several rods along the platform to the -men's waiting-room, and standing near the door glanced around to see if -he could find the object of his search. The only colored person in the -room was a stout and very black man, wearing a broadcloth suit and a -silk hat, and seated a short distance from the door. On the seat by his -side stood a couple of valises. On one of them, the one nearest him, on -which his arm rested, was written, in white letters, plainly -legible,---- - -"H.M. Brown, M.C. - Washington, D.C." - -Mr. Clayton's feelings at this discovery can better be imagined than -described. He hastily left the waiting-room, before the black gentleman, -who was looking the other way, was even aware of his presence, and, -walking rapidly up and down the platform, communed with himself upon -what course of action the situation demanded. He had invited to his -house, had come down to meet, had made elaborate preparations to -entertain on the following evening, a light-colored man,--a white man by -his theory, an acceptable guest, a possible husband for his daughter, an -avowed suitor for her hand. If the Congressman had turned out to be -brown, even dark brown, with fairly good hair, though he might not have -desired him as a son-in-law, yet he could have welcomed him as a guest. -But even this softening of the blow was denied him, for the man in the -waiting-room was palpably, aggressively black, with pronounced African -features and woolly hair, without apparently a single drop of redeeming -white blood. Could he, in the face of his well-known principles, his -lifelong rule of conduct, take this negro into his home and introduce -him to his friends? Could he subject his wife and daughter to the rude -shock of such a disappointment? It would be bad enough for them to learn -of the ghastly mistake, but to have him in the house would be twisting -the arrow in the wound. - -Mr. Clayton had the instincts of a gentleman, and realized the delicacy -of the situation. But to get out of his difficulty without wounding the -feelings of the Congressman required not only diplomacy but dispatch. -Whatever he did must be done promptly; for if he waited many minutes the -Congressman would probably take a carriage and be driven to Mr. -Clayton's residence. - -A ray of hope came for a moment to illumine the gloom of the situation. -Perhaps the black man was merely sitting there, and not the owner of the -valise! For there were two valises, one on each side of the supposed -Congressman. For obvious reasons he did not care to make the inquiry -himself, so he looked around for his companion, who came up a moment -later. - -"Jack," he exclaimed excitedly, "I 'm afraid we 're in the worst kind of -a hole, unless there 's some mistake! Run down to the men's waiting-room -and you 'll see a man and a valise, and you 'll understand what I mean. -Ask that darkey if he is the Honorable Mr. Brown, Congressman from South -Carolina. If he says yes, come back right away and let me know, without -giving him time to ask any questions, and put your wits to work to help -me out of the scrape." - -"I wonder what 's the matter?" said Jack to himself, but did as he was -told. In a moment he came running back. - -"Yes, sir," he announced; "he says he 's the man." - -"Jack," said Mr. Clayton desperately, "if you want to show your -appreciation of what I 've done for you, you must suggest some way out -of this. I 'd never dare to take that negro to my house, and yet I 'm -obliged to treat him like a gentleman." - -Jack's eyes had worn a somewhat reflective look since he had gone to -make the inquiry. Suddenly his face brightened with intelligence, and -then, as a newsboy ran into the station calling his wares, hardened into -determination. - -"Clarion, special extry 'dition! All about de epidemic er dipt'eria!" -clamored the newsboy with shrill childish treble, as he made his way -toward the waiting-room. Jack darted after him, and saw the man to whom -he had spoken buy a paper. He ran back to his employer, and dragged him -over toward the ticket-seller's window. - -"I have it, sir!" he exclaimed, seizing a telegraph blank and writing -rapidly, and reading aloud as he wrote. "How's this for a way out?"---- - - -"Dear Sir,--I write you this note here in the depot to inform you of an -unfortunate event which has interfered with my plans and those of my -family for your entertainment while in Groveland. Yesterday my daughter -Alice complained of a sore throat, which by this afternoon had developed -into a case of malignant diphtheria. In consequence our house has been -quarantined; and while I have felt myself obliged to come down to the -depot, I do not feel that I ought to expose you to the possibility of -infection, and I therefore send you this by another hand. The bearer -will conduct you to a carriage which I have ordered placed at your -service, and unless you should prefer some other hotel, you will be -driven to the Forest Hill House, where I beg you will consider yourself -my guest during your stay in the city, and make the fullest use of every -convenience it may offer. From present indications I fear no one of our -family will be able to see you, which we shall regret beyond expression, -as we have made elaborate arrangements for your entertainment. I still -hope, however, that you may enjoy your visit, as there are many places -of interest in the city, and many friends will doubtless be glad to make -your acquaintance. - -"With assurances of my profound regret, I am - Sincerely yours, - Cicero Clayton." - -"Splendid!" cried Mr. Clayton. "You 've helped me out of a horrible -scrape. Now, go and take him to the hotel and see him comfortably -located, and tell them to charge the bill to me." - -"I suspect, sir," suggested Jack, "that I 'd better not go up to the -house, and you 'll have to stay in yourself for a day or two, to keep up -appearances. I 'll sleep on the lounge at the store, and we can talk -business over the telephone." - -"All right, Jack, we 'll arrange the details later. But for Heaven's -sake get him started, or he 'll be calling a hack to drive up to the -house. I 'll go home on a street car." - -"So far so good," sighed Mr. Clayton to himself as he escaped from the -station. "Jack is a deuced clever fellow, and I 'll have to do something -more for him. But the tug-of-war is yet to come. I 've got to bribe a -doctor, shut up the house for a day or two, and have all the ill-humor -of two disappointed women to endure until this negro leaves town. Well, -I 'm sure my wife and Alice will back me up at any cost. No sacrifice is -too great to escape having to entertain him; of course I have no -prejudice against his color,--he can't help that,--but it is the -_principle_ of the thing. If we received him it would be a concession -fatal to all my views and theories. And I am really doing him a -kindness, for I 'm sure that all the world could not make Alice and her -mother treat him with anything but cold politeness. It 'll be a great -mortification to Alice, but I don't see how else I could have got out of -it." - -He boarded the first car that left the depot, and soon reached home. The -house was lighted up, and through the lace curtains of the parlor -windows he could see his wife and daughter, elegantly dressed, waiting -to receive their distinguished visitor. He rang the bell impatiently, -and a servant opened the door. - -"The gentleman did n't come?" asked the maid. - -"No," he said as he hung up his hat. This brought the ladies to the -door. - -"He did n't come?" they exclaimed. "What 's the matter?" - -"I 'll tell you," he said. "Mary," this to the servant, a white girl, -who stood in open-eyed curiosity, "we shan't need you any more -to-night." - -Then he went into the parlor, and, closing the door, told his story. -When he reached the point where he had discovered the color of the -honorable Mr. Brown, Miss Clayton caught her breath, and was on the -verge of collapse. - -"That nigger," said Mrs. Clayton indignantly, "can never set foot in -this house. But what did you do with him?" - -Mr. Clayton quickly unfolded his plan, and described the disposition he -had made of the Congressman. - -"It 's an awful shame," said Mrs. Clayton. "Just think of the trouble -and expense we have gone to! And poor Alice 'll never get over it, for -everybody knows he came to see her and that he 's smitten with her. But -you 've done just right; we never would have been able to hold up our -heads again if we had introduced a black man, even a Congressman, to the -people that are invited here to-morrow night, as a sweetheart of Alice. -Why, she would n't marry him if he was President of the United States -and plated with gold an inch thick. The very idea!" - -"Well," said Mr. Clayton, "then we 'we got to act quick. Alice must wrap -up her throat--by the way, Alice, how _is_ your throat?" - -"It 's sore," sobbed Alice, who had been in tears almost from her -father's return, "and I don't care if I do have diphtheria and die, no, -I don't!" and she wept on. - -"Wrap up your throat and go to bed, and I 'll go over to Doctor -Pillsbury's and get a diphtheria card to nail up on the house. In the -morning, first thing, we 'll have to write notes recalling the -invitations for to-morrow evening, and have them delivered by messenger -boys. We were fools for not finding out all about this man from some one -who knew, before we invited him here. Sadler don't know more than half -he thinks he does, anyway. And we 'll have to do this thing thoroughly, -or our motives will be misconstrued, and people will say we are -prejudiced and all that, when it is only a matter of principle with us." - -The programme outlined above was carried out to the letter. The -invitations were recalled, to the great disappointment of the invited -guests. The family physician called several times during the day. Alice -remained in bed, and the maid left without notice, in such a hurry that -she forgot to take her best clothes. - -Mr. Clayton himself remained at home. He had a telephone in the house, -and was therefore in easy communication with his office, so that the -business did not suffer materially by reason of his absence from the -store. About ten o'clock in the morning a note came up from the hotel, -expressing Mr. Brown's regrets and sympathy. Toward noon Mr. Clayton -picked up the morning paper, which he had not theretofore had time to -read, and was glancing over it casually, when his eye fell upon a column -headed "A Colored Congressman." He read the article with astonishment -that rapidly turned to chagrin and dismay. It was an interview -describing the Congressman as a tall and shapely man, about thirty-five -years old, with an olive complexion not noticeably darker than many a -white man's, straight hair, and eyes as black as sloes. - -"The bearing of this son of South Carolina reveals the polished manners -of the Southern gentleman, and neither from his appearance nor his -conversation would one suspect that the white blood which flows in his -veins in such preponderating measure had ever been crossed by that of a -darker race," wrote the reporter, who had received instructions at the -office that for urgent business considerations the lake shipping -interest wanted Representative Brown treated with marked consideration. - -There was more of the article, but the introductory portion left Mr. -Clayton in such a state of bewilderment that the paper fell from his -hand. What was the meaning of it? Had he been mistaken? Obviously so, or -else the reporter was wrong, which was manifestly improbable. When he -had recovered himself somewhat, he picked up the newspaper and began -reading where he had left off. - -"Representative Brown traveled to Groveland in company with Bishop Jones -of the African Methodist Jerusalem Church, who is _en route_ to attend -the general conference of his denomination at Detroit next week. The -bishop, who came in while the writer was interviewing Mr. Brown, is a -splendid type of the pure negro. He is said to be a man of great power -among his people, which may easily be believed after one has looked upon -his expressive countenance and heard him discuss the questions which -affect the welfare of his church and his race." - -Mr. Clayton stared at the paper. "'The bishop,'" he repeated, "'is a -splendid type of the pure negro.' I must have mistaken the bishop for -the Congressman! But how in the world did Jack get the thing balled up? -I 'll call up the store and demand an explanation of him. - -"Jack," he asked, "what kind of a looking man was the fellow you gave -the note to at the depot?" - -"He was a very wicked-looking fellow, sir," came back the answer. "He -had a bad eye, looked like a gambler, sir. I am not surprised that you -did n't want to entertain him, even if he was a Congressman." - -"What color was he--that 's what I want to know--and what kind of hair -did he have?" - -"Why, he was about my complexion, sir, and had straight black hair." - -The rules of the telephone company did not permit swearing over the -line. Mr. Clayton broke the rules. - -"Was there any one else with him?" he asked when he had relieved his -mind. - -"Yes, sir, Bishop Jones of the African Methodist Jerusalem Church was -sitting there with him; they had traveled from Washington together. I -drove the bishop to his stopping-place after I had left Mr. Brown at the -hotel. I did n't suppose you 'd mind." - -Mr. Clayton fell into a chair, and indulged in thoughts unutterable. - -He folded up the paper and slipped it under the family Bible, where it -was least likely to be soon discovered. - -"I 'll hide the paper, anyway," he groaned. "I 'll never hear the last -of this till my dying day, so I may as well have a few hours' respite. -It 's too late to go back, and we 've got to play the farce out. Alice -is really sick with disappointment, and to let her know this now would -only make her worse. Maybe he 'll leave town in a day or two, and then -she 'll be in condition to stand it. Such luck is enough to disgust a -man with trying to do right and live up to his principles." - -Time hung a little heavy on Mr. Clayton's hands during the day. His wife -was busy with the housework. He answered several telephone calls about -Alice's health, and called up the store occasionally to ask how the -business was getting on. After lunch he lay down on a sofa and took a -nap, from which he was aroused by the sound of the door-bell. He went to -the door. The evening paper was lying on the porch, and the newsboy, who -had not observed the diphtheria sign until after he had rung, was -hurrying away as fast as his legs would carry him. - -Mr. Clayton opened the paper and looked it through to see if there was -any reference to the visiting Congressman. He found what he sought and -more. An article on the local page contained a resume of the information -given in the morning paper, with the following additional paragraph:---- - -"A reporter, who called at the Forest Hill this morning to interview -Representative Brown, was informed that the Congressman had been invited -to spend the remainder of his time in Groveland as the guest of Mr. -William Watkins, the proprietor of the popular livery establishment on -Main Street. Mr. Brown will remain in the city several days, and a -reception will be tendered him at Mr. Watkins's on Wednesday evening." - -"That ends it," sighed Mr. Clayton. "The dove of peace will never again -rest on my roof-tree." - -But why dwell longer on the sufferings of Mr. Clayton, or attempt to -describe the feelings or chronicle the remarks of his wife and daughter -when they learned the facts in the case? - -As to Representative Brown, he was made welcome in the hospitable home -of Mr. William Watkins. There was a large and brilliant assemblage at -the party on Wednesday evening, at which were displayed the costumes -prepared for the Clayton reception. Mr. Brown took a fancy to Miss Lura -Watkins, to whom, before the week was over, he became engaged to be -married. Meantime poor Alice, the innocent victim of circumstances and -principles, lay sick abed with a supposititious case of malignant -diphtheria, and a real case of acute disappointment and chagrin. - -"Oh, Jack!" exclaimed Alice, a few weeks later, on the way home from -evening church in company with the young man, "what a dreadful thing it -all was! And to think of that hateful Lura Watkins marrying the -Congressman!" - -The street was shaded by trees at the point where they were passing, and -there was no one in sight. Jack put his arm around her waist, and, -leaning over, kissed her. - -"Never mind, dear," he said soothingly, "you still have your 'last -chance' left, and I 'll prove myself a better man than the Congressman." - - * * * * * - -Occasionally, at social meetings, when the vexed question of the future -of the colored race comes up, as it often does, for discussion, Mr. -Clayton may still be heard to remark sententiously:---- - -"What the white people of the United States need most, in dealing with -this problem, is a higher conception of the brotherhood of man. For of -one blood God made all the nations of the earth." - - - - -Cicely's Dream - - - -I - - -The old woman stood at the back door of the cabin, shading her eyes with -her hand, and looking across the vegetable garden that ran up to the -very door. Beyond the garden she saw, bathed in the sunlight, a field of -corn, just in the ear, stretching for half a mile, its yellow, -pollen-laden tassels overtopping the dark green mass of broad glistening -blades; and in the distance, through the faint morning haze of -evaporating dew, the line of the woods, of a still darker green, meeting -the clear blue of the summer sky. Old Dinah saw, going down the path, a -tall, brown girl, in a homespun frock, swinging a slat-bonnet in one -hand and a splint basket in the other. - -"Oh, Cicely!" she called. - -The girl turned and answered in a resonant voice, vibrating with youth -and life,---- - -"Yes, granny!" - -"Be sho' and pick a good mess er peas, chile, fer yo' gran'daddy's gwine -ter be home ter dinner ter-day." - -The old woman stood a moment longer and then turned to go into the -house. What she had not seen was that the girl was not only young, but -lithe and shapely as a sculptor's model; that her bare feet seemed to -spurn the earth as they struck it; that though brown, she was not so -brown but that her cheek was darkly red with the blood of another race -than that which gave her her name and station in life; and the old woman -did not see that Cicely's face was as comely as her figure was superb, -and that her eyes were dreamy with vague yearnings. - -Cicely climbed the low fence between the garden and the cornfield, and -started down one of the long rows leading directly away from the house. -Old Needham was a good ploughman, and straight as an arrow ran the -furrow between the rows of corn, until it vanished in the distant -perspective. The peas were planted beside alternate hills of corn, the -cornstalks serving as supports for the climbing pea-vines. The vines -nearest the house had been picked more or less clear of the long green -pods, and Cicely walked down the row for a quarter of a mile, to where -the peas were more plentiful. And as she walked she thought of her dream -of the night before. - -She had dreamed a beautiful dream. The fact that it was a beautiful -dream, a delightful dream, her memory retained very vividly. She was -troubled because she could not remember just what her dream had been -about. Of one other fact she was certain, that in her dream she had -found something, and that her happiness had been bound up with the thing -she had found. As she walked down the corn-row she ran over in her mind -the various things with which she had always associated happiness. Had -she found a gold ring? No, it was not a gold ring--of that she felt -sure. Was it a soft, curly plume for her hat? She had seen town people -with them, and had indulged in day-dreams on the subject; but it was not -a feather. Was it a bright-colored silk dress? No; as much as she had -always wanted one, it was not a silk dress. For an instant, in a dream, -she had tasted some great and novel happiness, and when she awoke it was -dashed from her lips, and she could not even enjoy the memory of it, -except in a vague, indefinite, and tantalizing way. - -Cicely was troubled, too, because dreams were serious things. Dreams had -certain meanings, most of them, and some dreams went by contraries. If -her dream had been a prophecy of some good thing, she had by forgetting -it lost the pleasure of anticipation. If her dream had been one of those -that go by contraries, the warning would be in vain, because she would -not know against what evil to provide. So, with a sigh, Cicely said to -herself that it was a troubled world, more or less; and having come to a -promising point, began to pick the tenderest pea-pods and throw them -into her basket. - -By the time she had reached the end of the line the basket was nearly -full. Glancing toward the pine woods beyond the rail fence, she saw a -brier bush loaded with large, luscious blackberries. Cicely was fond of -blackberries, so she set her basket down, climbed the fence, and was -soon busily engaged in gathering the fruit, delicious even in its wild -state. - -She had soon eaten all she cared for. But the berries were still -numerous, and it occurred to her that her granddaddy would like a -blackberry pudding for dinner. Catching up her apron, and using it as a -receptacle for the berries, she had gathered scarcely more than a -handful when she heard a groan. - -Cicely was not timid, and her curiosity being aroused by the sound, she -stood erect, and remained in a listening attitude. In a moment the sound -was repeated, and, gauging the point from which it came, she plunged -resolutely into the thick underbrush of the forest. She had gone but a -few yards when she stopped short with an exclamation of surprise and -concern. - -Upon the ground, under the shadow of the towering pines, a man lay at -full length,--a young man, several years under thirty, apparently, so -far as his age could be guessed from a face that wore a short soft -beard, and was so begrimed with dust and incrusted with blood that -little could be seen of the underlying integument. What was visible -showed a skin browned by nature or by exposure. His hands were of even a -darker brown, almost as dark as Cicely's own. A tangled mass of very -curly black hair, matted with burs, dank with dew, and clotted with -blood, fell partly over his forehead, on the edge of which, extending -back into the hair, an ugly scalp wound was gaping, and, though -apparently not just inflicted, was still bleeding slowly, as though -reluctant to stop, in spite of the coagulation that had almost closed -it. - -Cicely with a glance took in all this and more. But, first of all, she -saw the man was wounded and bleeding, and the nurse latent in all -womankind awoke in her to the requirements of the situation. She knew -there was a spring a few rods away, and ran swiftly to it. There was -usually a gourd at the spring, but now it was gone. Pouring out the -blackberries in a little heap where they could be found again, she took -off her apron, dipped one end of it into the spring, and ran back to the -wounded man. The apron was clean, and she squeezed a little stream of -water from it into the man's mouth. He swallowed it with avidity. Cicely -then knelt by his side, and with the wet end of her apron washed the -blood from the wound lightly, and the dust from the man's face. Then she -looked at her apron a moment, debating whether she should tear it or -not. - -"I 'm feared granny 'll be mad," she said to herself. "I reckon I 'll -jes' use de whole apron." - -So she bound the apron around his head as well as she could, and then -sat down a moment on a fallen tree trunk, to think what she should do -next. The man already seemed more comfortable; he had ceased moaning, -and lay quiet, though breathing heavily. - -"What shall I do with that man?" she reflected. "I don' know whether -he 's a w'ite man or a black man. Ef he 's a w'ite man, I oughter go an' -tell de w'ite folks up at de big house, an' dey 'd take keer of 'im. If -he 's a black man, I oughter go tell granny. He don' look lack a black -man somehow er nuther, an' yet he don' look lack a w'ite man; he 's too -dahk, an' his hair's too curly. But I mus' do somethin' wid 'im. He -can't be lef' here ter die in de woods all by hisse'f. Reckon I 'll go -an' tell granny." - -She scaled the fence, caught up the basket of peas from where she had -left it, and ran, lightly and swiftly as a deer, toward the house. Her -short skirt did not impede her progress, and in a few minutes she had -covered the half mile and was at the cabin door, a slight heaving of her -full and yet youthful breast being the only sign of any unusual -exertion. - -Her story was told in a moment. The old woman took down a black bottle -from a high shelf, and set out with Cicely across the cornfield, toward -the wounded man. - -As they went through the corn Cicely recalled part of her dream. She had -dreamed that under some strange circumstances--what they had been was -still obscure--she had met a young man--a young man whiter than she and -yet not all white--and that he had loved her and courted her and married -her. Her dream had been all the sweeter because in it she had first -tasted the sweetness of love, and she had not recalled it before because -only in her dream had she known or thought of love as something -supremely desirable. - -With the memory of her dream, however, her fears revived. Dreams were -solemn things. To Cicely the fabric of a vision was by no means -baseless. Her trouble arose from her not being able to recall, though -she was well versed in dream-lore, just what event was foreshadowed by a -dream of finding a wounded man. If the wounded man were of her own race, -her dream would thus far have been realized, and having met the young -man, the other joys might be expected to follow. If he should turn out -to be a white man, then her dream was clearly one of the kind that go by -contraries, and she could expect only sorrow and trouble and pain as the -proper sequences of this fateful discovery. - - - -II - - -The two women reached the fence that separated the cornfield from the -pine woods. - -"How is I gwine ter git ovuh dat fence, chile?" asked the old woman. - -"Wait a minute, granny," said Cicely; "I 'll take it down." - -It was only an eight-rail fence, and it was a matter of but a few -minutes for the girl to lift down and lay to either side the ends of the -rails that formed one of the angles. This done, the old woman easily -stepped across the remaining two or three rails. It was only a moment -before they stood by the wounded man. He was lying still, breathing -regularly, and seemingly asleep. - -"What is he, granny," asked the girl anxiously, "a w'ite man, or not?" - -Old Dinah pushed back the matted hair from the wounded man's brow, and -looked at the skin beneath. It was fairer there, but yet of a decided -brown. She raised his hand, pushed back the tattered sleeve from his -wrist, and then she laid his hand down gently. - -"Mos' lackly he 's a mulatter man f'om up de country somewhar. He don' -look lack dese yer niggers roun' yere, ner yet lack a w'ite man. But de -po' boy's in a bad fix, w'ateber he is, an' I 'spec's we bettah do w'at -we kin fer 'im, an' w'en he comes to he 'll tell us w'at he is--er w'at -he calls hisse'f. Hol' 'is head up, chile, an' I 'll po' a drop er dis -yer liquor down his th'oat; dat 'll bring 'im to quicker 'n anything -e'se I knows." - -Cicely lifted the sick man's head, and Dinah poured a few drops of the -whiskey between his teeth. He swallowed it readily enough. In a few -minutes he opened his eyes and stared blankly at the two women. Cicely -saw that his eyes were large and black, and glistening with fever. - -"How you feelin', suh?" asked the old woman. - -There was no answer. - -"Is you feelin' bettah now?" - -The wounded man kept on staring blankly. Suddenly he essayed to put his -hand to his head, gave a deep groan, and fell back again unconscious. - -"He 's gone ag'in," said Dinah. "I reckon we 'll hafter tote 'im up ter -de house and take keer er 'im dere. W'ite folks would n't want ter fool -wid a nigger man, an' we doan know who his folks is. He 's outer his -head an' will be fer some time yet, an' we can't tell nuthin' 'bout 'im -tel he comes ter his senses." - -Cicely lifted the wounded man by the arms and shoulders. She was strong, -with the strength of youth and a sturdy race. The man was pitifully -emaciated; how much, the two women had not suspected until they raised -him. They had no difficulty whatever, except for the awkwardness of such -a burden, in lifting him over the fence and carrying him through the -cornfield to the cabin. - -They laid him on Cicely's bed in the little lean-to shed that formed a -room separate from the main apartment of the cabin. The old woman sent -Cicely to cook the dinner, while she gave her own attention exclusively -to the still unconscious man. She brought water and washed him as though -he were a child. - -"Po' boy," she said, "he doan feel lack he 's be'n eatin' nuff to feed a -sparrer. He 'pears ter be mos' starved ter def." - -She washed his wound more carefully, made some lint,--the art was well -known in the sixties,--and dressed his wound with a fair degree of -skill. - -"Somebody must 'a' be'n tryin' ter put yo' light out, chile," she -muttered to herself as she adjusted the bandage around his head. "A -little higher er a little lower, an' you would n' 'a' be'n yere ter tell -de tale. Dem clo's," she argued, lifting the tattered garments she had -removed from her patient, "don' b'long 'roun' yere. Dat kinder weavin' -come f'om down to'ds Souf Ca'lina. I wish Needham 'u'd come erlong. He -kin tell who dis man is, an' all erbout 'im." - -She made a bowl of gruel, and fed it, drop by drop, to the sick man. -This roused him somewhat from his stupor, but when Dinah thought he had -enough of the gruel, and stopped feeding him, he closed his eyes again -and relapsed into a heavy sleep that was so closely akin to -unconsciousness as to be scarcely distinguishable from it. - -When old Needham came home at noon, his wife, who had been anxiously -awaiting his return, told him in a few words the story of Cicely's -discovery and of the subsequent events. - -Needham inspected the stranger with a professional eye. He had been -something of a plantation doctor in his day, and was known far and wide -for his knowledge of simple remedies. The negroes all around, as well as -many of the poorer white people, came to him for the treatment of common -ailments. - -"He 's got a fevuh," he said, after feeling the patient's pulse and -laying his hand on his brow, "an' we 'll hafter gib 'im some yarb tea -an' nuss 'im tel de fevuh w'ars off. I 'spec'," he added, "dat I knows -whar dis boy come f'om. He 's mos' lackly one er dem bright mulatters, -f'om Robeson County--some of 'em call deyse'ves Croatan Injins--w'at's -been conscripted an' sent ter wu'k on de fo'tifications down at -Wimbleton er some'er's er nuther, an' done 'scaped, and got mos' killed -gittin' erway, an' wuz n' none too well fed befo', an' nigh 'bout -starved ter def sence. We 'll hafter hide dis man, er e'se we is lackly -ter git inter trouble ou'se'ves by harb'rin' 'im. Ef dey ketch 'im yere, -dey 's liable ter take 'im out an' shoot 'im--an' des ez lackly us too." - -Cicely was listening with bated breath. - -"Oh, gran'daddy," she cried with trembling voice, "don' let 'em ketch -'im! Hide 'im somewhar." - -"I reckon we 'll leave 'im yere fer a day er so. Ef he had come f'om -roun' yere I 'd be skeered ter keep 'im, fer de w'ite folks 'u'd prob'ly -be lookin' fer 'im. But I knows ev'ybody w'at's be'n conscripted fer ten -miles 'roun', an' dis yere boy don' b'long in dis neighborhood. W'en 'e -gits so 'e kin he'p 'isse'f we 'll put 'im up in de lof an' hide 'im -till de Yankees come. Fer dey 're comin', sho'. I dremp' las' night dey -wuz close ter han', and I hears de w'ite folks talkin' ter deyse'ves -'bout it. An' de time is comin' w'en de good Lawd gwine ter set his -people free, an' it ain' gwine ter be long, nuther." - -Needham's prophecy proved true. In less than a week the Confederate -garrison evacuated the arsenal in the neighboring town of Patesville, -blew up the buildings, destroyed the ordnance and stores, and retreated -across the Cape Fear River, burning the river bridge behind them,--two -acts of war afterwards unjustly attributed to General Sherman's army, -which followed close upon the heels of the retreating Confederates. - -When there was no longer any fear for the stranger's safety, no more -pains were taken to conceal him. His wound had healed rapidly, and in a -week he had been able with some help to climb up the ladder into the -loft. In all this time, however, though apparently conscious, he had -said no word to any one, nor had he seemed to comprehend a word that was -spoken to him. - -Cicely had been his constant attendant. After the first day, during -which her granny had nursed him, she had sat by his bedside, had fanned -his fevered brow, had held food and water and medicine to his lips. When -it was safe for him to come down from the loft and sit in a chair under -a spreading oak, Cicely supported him until he was strong enough to walk -about the yard. When his strength had increased sufficiently to permit -of greater exertion, she accompanied him on long rambles in the fields -and woods. - -In spite of his gain in physical strength, the newcomer changed very -little in other respects. For a long time he neither spoke nor smiled. -To questions put to him he simply gave no reply, but looked at his -questioner with the blank unconsciousness of an infant. By and by he -began to recognize Cicely, and to smile at her approach. The next step -in returning consciousness was but another manifestation of the same -sentiment. When Cicely would leave him he would look his regret, and be -restless and uneasy until she returned. - -The family were at a loss what to call him. To any inquiry as to his -name he answered no more than to other questions. - -"He come jes' befo' Sherman," said Needham, after a few weeks, "lack -John de Baptis' befo' de Lawd. I reckon we bettah call 'im John." - -So they called him John. He soon learned the name. As time went on -Cicely found that he was quick at learning things. She taught him to -speak her own negro English, which he pronounced with absolute fidelity -to her intonations; so that barring the quality of his voice, his -speech was an echo of Cicely's own. - -The summer wore away and the autumn came. John and Cicely wandered in -the woods together and gathered walnuts, and chinquapins and wild -grapes. When harvest time came, they worked in the fields side by -side,--plucked the corn, pulled the fodder, and gathered the dried peas -from the yellow pea-vines. Cicely was a phenomenal cotton-picker, and -John accompanied her to the fields and stayed by her hours at a time, -though occasionally he would complain of his head, and sit under a tree -and rest part of the day while Cicely worked, the two keeping one -another always in sight. - -They did not have a great deal of intercourse with other people. Young -men came to the cabin sometimes to see Cicely, but when they found her -entirely absorbed in the stranger they ceased their visits. For a time -Cicely kept him away, as much as possible, from others, because she did -not wish them to see that there was anything wrong about him. This was -her motive at first, but after a while she kept him to herself simply -because she was happier so. He was hers--hers alone. She had found him, -as Pharaoh's daughter had found Moses in the bulrushes; she had taught -him to speak, to think, to love. She had not taught him to remember; she -would not have wished him to; she would have been jealous of any past to -which he might have proved bound by other ties. Her dream so far had -come true. She had found him; he loved her. The rest of it would as -surely follow, and that before long. For dreams were serious things, and -time had proved hers to have been not a presage of misfortune, but one -of the beneficent visions that are sent, that we may enjoy by -anticipation the good things that are in store for us. - - - -III - - -But a short interval of time elapsed after the passage of the warlike -host that swept through North Carolina, until there appeared upon the -scene the vanguard of a second army, which came to bring light and the -fruits of liberty to a land which slavery and the havoc of war had -brought to ruin. It is fashionable to assume that those who undertook -the political rehabilitation of the Southern States merely rounded out -the ruin that the war had wrought--merely ploughed up the desolate land -and sowed it with salt. Perhaps the gentler judgments of the future may -recognize that their task was a difficult one, and that wiser and -honester men might have failed as egregiously. It may even, in time, be -conceded that some good came out of the carpet-bag governments, as, for -instance, the establishment of a system of popular education in the -former slave States. Where it had been a crime to teach people to read -or write, a schoolhouse dotted every hillside, and the State provided -education for rich and poor, for white and black alike. Let us lay at -least this token upon the grave of the carpet-baggers. The evil they did -lives after them, and the statute of limitations does not seem to run -against it. It is but just that we should not forget the good. - -Long, however, before the work of political reconstruction had begun, a -brigade of Yankee schoolmasters and schoolma'ams had invaded Dixie, and -one of the latter had opened a Freedman's Bureau School in the town of -Patesville, about four miles from Needham Green's cabin on the -neighboring sandhills. - -It had been quite a surprise to Miss Chandler's Boston friends when she -had announced her intention of going South to teach the freedmen. Rich, -accomplished, beautiful, and a social favorite, she was giving up the -comforts and luxuries of Northern life to go among hostile strangers, -where her associates would be mostly ignorant negroes. Perhaps she might -meet occasionally an officer of some Federal garrison, or a traveler -from the North; but to all intents and purposes her friends considered -her as going into voluntary exile. But heroism was not rare in those -days, and Martha Chandler was only one of the great multitude whose -hearts went out toward an oppressed race, and who freely poured out -their talents, their money, their lives,--whatever God had given -them,--in the sublime and not unfruitful effort to transform three -millions of slaves into intelligent freemen. Miss Chandler's friends -knew, too, that she had met a great sorrow, and more than suspected that -out of it had grown her determination to go South. - -When Cicely Green heard that a school for colored people had been -opened at Patesville she combed her hair, put on her Sunday frock and -such bits of finery as she possessed, and set out for town early the -next Monday morning. - -There were many who came to learn the new gospel of education, which was -to be the cure for all the freedmen's ills. The old and gray-haired, the -full-grown man and woman, the toddling infant,--they came to acquire the -new and wonderful learning that was to make them the equals of the white -people. It was the teacher's task, by no means an easy one, to select -from this incongruous mass the most promising material, and to -distribute among them the second-hand books and clothing that were sent, -largely by her Boston friends, to aid her in her work; to find out what -they knew, to classify them by their intelligence rather than by their -knowledge, for they were all lamentably ignorant. Some among them were -the children of parents who had been free before the war, and of these -some few could read and one or two could write. One paragon, who could -repeat the multiplication table, was immediately promoted to the -position of pupil teacher. - -Miss Chandler took a liking to the tall girl who had come so far to sit -under her instruction. There was a fine, free air in her bearing, a -lightness in her step, a sparkle in her eye, that spoke of good -blood,--whether fused by nature in its own alembic, out of material -despised and spurned of men, or whether some obscure ancestral strain, -the teacher could not tell. The girl proved intelligent and learned -rapidly, indeed seemed almost feverishly anxious to learn. She was -quiet, and was, though utterly untrained, instinctively polite, and -profited from the first day by the example of her teacher's quiet -elegance. The teacher dressed in simple black. When Cicely came back to -school the second day, she had left off her glass beads and her red -ribbon, and had arranged her hair as nearly like the teacher's as her -skill and its quality would permit. - -The teacher was touched by these efforts at imitation, and by the -intense devotion Cicely soon manifested toward her. It was not a -sycophantic, troublesome devotion, that made itself a burden to its -object. It found expression in little things done rather than in any -words the girl said. To the degree that the attraction was mutual, -Martha recognized in it a sort of freemasonry of temperament that drew -them together in spite of the differences between them. Martha felt -sometimes, in the vague way that one speculates about the impossible, -that if she were brown, and had been brought up in North Carolina, she -would be like Cicely; and that if Cicely's ancestors had come over in -the Mayflower, and Cicely had been reared on Beacon Street, in the -shadow of the State House dome, Cicely would have been very much like -herself. - -Miss Chandler was lonely sometimes. Her duties kept her occupied all -day. On Sundays she taught a Bible class in the schoolroom. -Correspondence with bureau officials and friends at home furnished her -with additional occupation. At times, nevertheless, she felt a longing -for the company of women of her own race; but the white ladies of the -town did not call, even in the most formal way, upon the Yankee -school-teacher. Miss Chandler was therefore fain to do the best she -could with such companionship as was available. She took Cicely to her -home occasionally, and asked her once to stay all night. Thinking, -however, that she detected a reluctance on the girl's part to remain -away from home, she did not repeat her invitation. - -Cicely, indeed, was filling a double role. The learning acquired from -Miss Chandler she imparted to John at home. Every evening, by the light -of the pine-knots blazing on Needham's ample hearth, she taught John to -read the simple words she had learned during the day. Why she did not -take him to school she had never asked herself; there were several other -pupils as old as he seemed to be. Perhaps she still thought it necessary -to protect him from curious remark. He worked with Needham by day, and -she could see him at night, and all of Saturdays and Sundays. Perhaps it -was the jealous selfishness of love. She had found him; he was hers. In -the spring, when school was over, her granny had said that she might -marry him. Till then her dream would not yet have come true, and she -must keep him to herself. And yet she did not wish him to lose this -golden key to the avenues of opportunity. She would not take him to -school, but she would teach him each day all that she herself had -learned. He was not difficult to teach, but learned, indeed, with what -seemed to Cicely marvelous ease,--always, however, by her lead, and -never of his own initiative. For while he could do a man's work, he was -in most things but a child, without a child's curiosity. His love for -Cicely appeared the only thing for which he needed no suggestion; and -even that possessed an element of childish dependence that would have -seemed, to minds trained to thoughtful observation, infinitely pathetic. - -The spring came and cotton-planting time. The children began to drop out -of Miss Chandler's school one by one, as their services were required at -home. Cicely was among those who intended to remain in school until the -term closed with the "exhibition," in which she was assigned a leading -part. She had selected her recitation, or "speech," from among half a -dozen poems that her teacher had suggested, and to memorizing it she -devoted considerable time and study. The exhibition, as the first of its -kind, was sure to be a notable event. The parents and friends of the -children were invited to attend, and a colored church, recently -erected,--the largest available building,--was secured as the place -where the exercises should take place. - -On the morning of the eventful day, uncle Needham, assisted by John, -harnessed the mule to the two-wheeled cart, on which a couple of -splint-bottomed chairs were fastened to accommodate Dinah and Cicely. -John put on his best clothes,--an ill-fitting suit of blue jeans,--a -round wool hat, a pair of coarse brogans, a homespun shirt, and a bright -blue necktie. Cicely wore her best frock, a red ribbon at her throat, -another in her hair, and carried a bunch of flowers in her hand. Uncle -Needham and aunt Dinah were also in holiday array. Needham and John took -their seats on opposite sides of the cart-frame, with their feet -dangling down, and thus the equipage set out leisurely for the town. - -Cicely had long looked forward impatiently to this day. She was going to -marry John the next week, and then her dream would have come entirely -true. But even this anticipated happiness did not overshadow the -importance of the present occasion, which would be an epoch in her life, -a day of joy and triumph. She knew her speech perfectly, and timidity -was not one of her weaknesses. She knew that the red ribbons set off her -dark beauty effectively, and that her dress fitted neatly the curves of -her shapely figure. She confidently expected to win the first prize, a -large morocco-covered Bible, offered by Miss Chandler for the best -exercise. - -Cicely and her companions soon arrived at Patesville. Their entrance -into the church made quite a sensation, for Cicely was not only an -acknowledged belle, but a general favorite, and to John there attached a -tinge of mystery which inspired a respect not bestowed upon those who -had grown up in the neighborhood. Cicely secured a seat in the front -part of the church, next to the aisle, in the place reserved for the -pupils. As the house was already partly filled by townspeople when the -party from the country arrived, Needham and his wife and John were -forced to content themselves with places somewhat in the rear of the -room, from which they could see and hear what took place on the -platform, but where they were not at all conspicuously visible to those -at the front of the church. - -The schoolmistress had not yet arrived, and order was preserved in the -audience by two of the elder pupils, adorned with large rosettes of red, -white, and blue, who ushered the most important visitors to the seats -reserved for them. A national flag was gracefully draped over the -platform, and under it hung a lithograph of the Great Emancipator, for -it was thus these people thought of him. He had saved the Union, but the -Union had never meant anything good to them. He had proclaimed liberty -to the captive, which meant all to them; and to them he was and would -ever be the Great Emancipator. - -The schoolmistress came in at a rear door and took her seat upon the -platform. Martha was dressed in white; for once she had laid aside the -sombre garb in which alone she had been seen since her arrival at -Patesville. She wore a yellow rose at her throat, a bunch of jasmine in -her belt. A sense of responsibility for the success of the exhibition -had deepened the habitual seriousness of her face, yet she greeted the -audience with a smile. - -"Don' Miss Chan'ler look sweet," whispered the little girls to one -another, devouring her beauty with sparkling eyes, their lips parted -over a wealth of ivory. - -"De Lawd will bress dat chile," said one old woman, in soliloquy. "I -t'ank de good Marster I 's libbed ter see dis day." - -Even envy could not hide its noisome head: a pretty quadroon whispered -to her neighbor:---- - -"I don't b'liebe she 's natch'ly ez white ez dat. I 'spec' she 's be'n -powd'rin'! An' I know all dat hair can't be her'n; she 's got on a -switch, sho 's you bawn." - -"You knows dat ain' so, Ma'y 'Liza Smif," rejoined the other, with a -look of stern disapproval; "you _knows_ dat ain' so. You 'd gib yo' -everlastin' soul 'f you wuz ez white ez Miss Chan'ler, en yo' ha'r wuz -ez long ez her'n." - -"By Jove, Maxwell!" exclaimed a young officer, who belonged to the -Federal garrison stationed in the town, "but that girl is a beauty." The -speaker and a companion were in fatigue uniform, and had merely dropped -in for an hour between garrison duty. The ushers had wished to give them -seats on the platform, but they had declined, thinking that perhaps -their presence there might embarrass the teacher. They sought rather to -avoid observation by sitting behind a pillar in the rear of the room, -around which they could see without attracting undue attention. - -"To think," the lieutenant went on, "of that Junonian figure, those -lustrous orbs, that golden coronal, that flower of Northern -civilization, being wasted on these barbarians!" The speaker uttered an -exaggerated but suppressed groan. - -His companion, a young man of clean-shaven face and serious aspect, -nodded assent, but whispered reprovingly,---- - -"'Sh! some one will hear you. The exercises are going to begin." - -When Miss Chandler stepped forward to announce the hymn to be sung by -the school as the first exercise, every eye in the room was fixed upon -her, except John's, which saw only Cicely. When the teacher had uttered -a few words, he looked up to her, and from that moment did not take his -eyes off Martha's face. - -After the singing, a little girl, dressed in white, crossed by ribbons -of red and blue, recited with much spirit a patriotic poem. - -When Martha announced the third exercise, John's face took on a more -than usually animated expression, and there was a perceptible deepening -of the troubled look in his eyes, never entirely absent since Cicely had -found him in the woods. - -A little yellow boy, with long curls, and a frightened air, next -ascended the platform. - -"Now, Jimmie, be a man, and speak right out," whispered his teacher, -tapping his arm reassuringly with her fan as he passed her. - -Jimmie essayed to recite the lines so familiar to a past generation of -schoolchildren:---- - - "I knew a widow very poor, - Who four small children had; - The eldest was but six years old, - A gentle, modest lad." - -He ducked his head hurriedly in a futile attempt at a bow; then, -following instructions previously given him, fixed his eyes upon a large -cardboard motto hanging on the rear wall of the room, which admonished -him in bright red letters to - -"ALWAYS SPEAK THE TRUTH," - -and started off with assumed confidence - - "I knew a widow very poor, - Who"---- - -At this point, drawn by an irresistible impulse, his eyes sought the -level of the audience. Ah, fatal blunder! He stammered, but with an -effort raised his eyes and began again: - - "I knew a widow very poor, - Who four"---- - -Again his treacherous eyes fell, and his little remaining -self-possession utterly forsook him. He made one more despairing -effort:---- - - "I knew a widow very poor, - Who four small"---- - -and then, bursting into tears, turned and fled amid a murmur of -sympathy. - -Jimmie's inglorious retreat was covered by the singing in chorus of "The -Star-spangled Banner," after which Cicely Green came forward to recite -her poem. - -"By Jove, Maxwell!" whispered the young officer, who was evidently a -connoisseur of female beauty, "that is n't bad for a bronze Venus. I 'll -tell you"---- - -"'Sh!" said the other. "Keep still." - -When Cicely finished her recitation, the young officers began to -applaud, but stopped suddenly in some confusion as they realized that -they were the only ones in the audience so engaged. The colored people -had either not learned how to express their approval in orthodox -fashion, or else their respect for the sacred character of the edifice -forbade any such demonstration. Their enthusiasm found vent, however, in -a subdued murmur, emphasized by numerous nods and winks and suppressed -exclamations. During the singing that followed Cicely's recitation the -two officers quietly withdrew, their duties calling them away at this -hour. - -At the close of the exercises, a committee on prizes met in the -vestibule, and unanimously decided that Cicely Green was entitled to the -first prize. Proudly erect, with sparkling eyes and cheeks flushed with -victory, Cicely advanced to the platform to receive the coveted reward. -As she turned away, her eyes, shining with gratified vanity, sought -those of her lover. - -John sat bent slightly forward in an attitude of strained attention; and -Cicely's triumph lost half its value when she saw that it was not at -her, but at Miss Chandler, that his look was directed. Though she -watched him thenceforward, not one glance did he vouchsafe to his -jealous sweetheart, and never for an instant withdrew his eyes from -Martha, or relaxed the unnatural intentness of his gaze. The imprisoned -mind, stirred to unwonted effort, was struggling for liberty; and from -Martha had come the first ray of outer light that had penetrated its -dungeon. - -Before the audience was dismissed, the teacher rose to bid her school -farewell. Her intention was to take a vacation of three months; but what -might happen in that time she did not know, and there were duties at -home of such apparent urgency as to render her return to North Carolina -at least doubtful; so that in her own heart her _au revoir_ sounded very -much like a farewell. - -She spoke to them of the hopeful progress they had made, and praised -them for their eager desire to learn. She told them of the serious -duties of life, and of the use they should make of their acquirements. -With prophetic finger she pointed them to the upward way which they -must climb with patient feet to raise themselves out of the depths. - -Then, an unusual thing with her, she spoke of herself. Her heart was -full; it was with difficulty that she maintained her composure; for the -faces that confronted her were kindly faces, and not critical, and some -of them she had learned to love right well. - -"I am going away from you, my children," she said; "but before I go I -want to tell you how I came to be in North Carolina; so that if I have -been able to do anything here among you for which you might feel -inclined, in your good nature, to thank me, you may thank not me alone, -but another who came before me, and whose work I have but taken up where -_he_ laid it down. I had a friend,--a dear friend,--why should I be -ashamed to say it?--a lover, to whom I was to be married,--as I hope all -you girls may some day be happily married. His country needed him, and I -gave him up. He came to fight for the Union and for Freedom, for he -believed that all men are brothers. He did not come back again--he gave -up his life for you. Could I do less than he? I came to the land that he -sanctified by his death, and I have tried in my weak way to tend the -plant he watered with his blood, and which, in the fullness of time, -will blossom forth into the perfect flower of liberty." - -She could say no more, and as the whole audience thrilled in sympathy -with her emotion, there was a hoarse cry from the men's side of the -room, and John forced his way to the aisle and rushed forward to the -platform. - -"Martha! Martha!" - -"Arthur! O Arthur!" - -Pent-up love burst the flood-gates of despair and oblivion, and caught -these two young hearts in its torrent. Captain Arthur Carey, of the 1st -Massachusetts, long since reported missing, and mourned as dead, was -restored to reason and to his world. - -It seemed to him but yesterday that he had escaped from the Confederate -prison at Salisbury; that in an encounter with a guard he had received a -wound in the head; that he had wandered on in the woods, keeping himself -alive by means of wild berries, with now and then a piece of bread or a -potato from a friendly negro. It seemed but the night before that he -had laid himself down, tortured with fever, weak from loss of blood, and -with no hope that he would ever rise again. From that moment his memory -of the past was a blank until he recognized Martha on the platform and -took up again the thread of his former existence where it had been -broken off. - - * * * * * - -And Cicely? Well, there is often another woman, and Cicely, all -unwittingly to Carey or to Martha, had been the other woman. For, after -all, her beautiful dream had been one of the kind that go by contraries. - - - - -The Passing of Grandison - - - -I - - -When it is said that it was done to please a woman, there ought perhaps -to be enough said to explain anything; for what a man will not do to -please a woman is yet to be discovered. Nevertheless, it might be well -to state a few preliminary facts to make it clear why young Dick Owens -tried to run one of his father's negro men off to Canada. - -In the early fifties, when the growth of anti-slavery sentiment and the -constant drain of fugitive slaves into the North had so alarmed the -slaveholders of the border States as to lead to the passage of the -Fugitive Slave Law, a young white man from Ohio, moved by compassion for -the sufferings of a certain bondman who happened to have a "hard -master," essayed to help the slave to freedom. The attempt was -discovered and frustrated; the abductor was tried and convicted for -slave-stealing, and sentenced to a term of imprisonment in the -penitentiary. His death, after the expiration of only a small part of -the sentence, from cholera contracted while nursing stricken fellow -prisoners, lent to the case a melancholy interest that made it famous in -anti-slavery annals. - -Dick Owens had attended the trial. He was a youth of about twenty-two, -intelligent, handsome, and amiable, but extremely indolent, in a -graceful and gentlemanly way; or, as old Judge Fenderson put it more -than once, he was lazy as the Devil,--a mere figure of speech, of -course, and not one that did justice to the Enemy of Mankind. When asked -why he never did anything serious, Dick would good-naturedly reply, with -a well-modulated drawl, that he did n't have to. His father was rich; -there was but one other child, an unmarried daughter, who because of -poor health would probably never marry, and Dick was therefore heir -presumptive to a large estate. Wealth or social position he did not need -to seek, for he was born to both. Charity Lomax had shamed him into -studying law, but notwithstanding an hour or so a day spent at old Judge -Fenderson's office, he did not make remarkable headway in his legal -studies. - -"What Dick needs," said the judge, who was fond of tropes, as became a -scholar, and of horses, as was befitting a Kentuckian, "is the whip of -necessity, or the spur of ambition. If he had either, he would soon need -the snaffle to hold him back." - -But all Dick required, in fact, to prompt him to the most remarkable -thing he accomplished before he was twenty-five, was a mere suggestion -from Charity Lomax. The story was never really known to but two persons -until after the war, when it came out because it was a good story and -there was no particular reason for its concealment. - -Young Owens had attended the trial of this slave-stealer, or -martyr,--either or both,--and, when it was over, had gone to call on -Charity Lomax, and, while they sat on the veranda after sundown, had -told her all about the trial. He was a good talker, as his career in -later years disclosed, and described the proceedings very graphically. - -"I confess," he admitted, "that while my principles were against the -prisoner, my sympathies were on his side. It appeared that he was of -good family, and that he had an old father and mother, respectable -people, dependent upon him for support and comfort in their declining -years. He had been led into the matter by pity for a negro whose master -ought to have been run out of the county long ago for abusing his -slaves. If it had been merely a question of old Sam Briggs's negro, -nobody would have cared anything about it. But father and the rest of -them stood on the principle of the thing, and told the judge so, and the -fellow was sentenced to three years in the penitentiary." - -Miss Lomax had listened with lively interest. - -"I 've always hated old Sam Briggs," she said emphatically, "ever since -the time he broke a negro's leg with a piece of cordwood. When I hear of -a cruel deed it makes the Quaker blood that came from my grandmother -assert itself. Personally I wish that all Sam Briggs's negroes would run -away. As for the young man, I regard him as a hero. He dared something -for humanity. I could love a man who would take such chances for the -sake of others." - -"Could you love me, Charity, if I did something heroic?" - -"You never will, Dick. You 're too lazy for any use. You 'll never do -anything harder than playing cards or fox-hunting." - -"Oh, come now, sweetheart! I 've been courting you for a year, and it 's -the hardest work imaginable. Are you never going to love me?" he -pleaded. - -His hand sought hers, but she drew it back beyond his reach. - -"I 'll never love you, Dick Owens, until you have done something. When -that time comes, I 'll think about it." - -"But it takes so long to do anything worth mentioning, and I don't want -to wait. One must read two years to become a lawyer, and work five more -to make a reputation. We shall both be gray by then." - -"Oh, I don't know," she rejoined. "It does n't require a lifetime for a -man to prove that he is a man. This one did something, or at least tried -to." - -"Well, I 'm willing to attempt as much as any other man. What do you -want me to do, sweetheart? Give me a test." - -"Oh, dear me!" said Charity, "I don't care what you _do_, so you do -_something_. Really, come to think of it, why should I care whether you -do anything or not?" - -"I 'm sure I don't know why you should, Charity," rejoined Dick humbly, -"for I 'm aware that I 'm not worthy of it." - -"Except that I do hate," she added, relenting slightly, "to see a really -clever man so utterly lazy and good for nothing." - -"Thank you, my dear; a word of praise from you has sharpened my wits -already. I have an idea! Will you love me if I run a negro off to -Canada?" - -"What nonsense!" said Charity scornfully. "You must be losing your wits. -Steal another man's slave, indeed, while your father owns a hundred!" - -"Oh, there 'll be no trouble about that," responded Dick lightly; "I 'll -run off one of the old man's; we 've got too many anyway. It may not be -quite as difficult as the other man found it, but it will be just as -unlawful, and will demonstrate what I am capable of." - -"Seeing 's believing," replied Charity. "Of course, what you are talking -about now is merely absurd. I 'm going away for three weeks, to visit my -aunt in Tennessee. If you 're able to tell me, when I return, that you 've -done something to prove your quality, I 'll--well, you may come and tell -me about it." - - - -II - - -Young Owens got up about nine o'clock next morning, and while making his -toilet put some questions to his personal attendant, a rather bright -looking young mulatto of about his own age. - -"Tom," said Dick. - -"Yas, Mars Dick," responded the servant. - -"I 'm going on a trip North. Would you like to go with me?" - -Now, if there was anything that Tom would have liked to make, it was a -trip North. It was something he had long contemplated in the abstract, -but had never been able to muster up sufficient courage to attempt in -the concrete. He was prudent enough, however, to dissemble his feelings. - -"I would n't min' it, Mars Dick, ez long ez you 'd take keer er me an' -fetch me home all right." - -Tom's eyes belied his words, however, and his young master felt well -assured that Tom needed only a good opportunity to make him run away. -Having a comfortable home, and a dismal prospect in case of failure, Tom -was not likely to take any desperate chances; but young Owens was -satisfied that in a free State but little persuasion would be required -to lead Tom astray. With a very logical and characteristic desire to -gain his end with the least necessary expenditure of effort, he decided -to take Tom with him, if his father did not object. - -Colonel Owens had left the house when Dick went to breakfast, so Dick -did not see his father till luncheon. - -"Father," he remarked casually to the colonel, over the fried chicken, -"I 'm feeling a trifle run down. I imagine my health would be improved -somewhat by a little travel and change of scene." - -"Why don't you take a trip North?" suggested his father. The colonel -added to paternal affection a considerable respect for his son as the -heir of a large estate. He himself had been "raised" in comparative -poverty, and had laid the foundations of his fortune by hard work; and -while he despised the ladder by which he had climbed, he could not -entirely forget it, and unconsciously manifested, in his intercourse -with his son, some of the poor man's deference toward the wealthy and -well-born. - -"I think I 'll adopt your suggestion, sir," replied the son, "and run -up to New York; and after I 've been there awhile I may go on to Boston -for a week or so. I 've never been there, you know." - -"There are some matters you can talk over with my factor in New York," -rejoined the colonel, "and while you are up there among the Yankees, I -hope you 'll keep your eyes and ears open to find out what the rascally -abolitionists are saying and doing. They 're becoming altogether too -active for our comfort, and entirely too many ungrateful niggers are -running away. I hope the conviction of that fellow yesterday may -discourage the rest of the breed. I 'd just like to catch any one trying -to run off one of my darkeys. He 'd get short shrift; I don't think any -Court would have a chance to try him." - -"They are a pestiferous lot," assented Dick, "and dangerous to our -institutions. But say, father, if I go North I shall want to take Tom -with me." - -Now, the colonel, while a very indulgent father, had pronounced views on -the subject of negroes, having studied them, as he often said, for a -great many years, and, as he asserted oftener still, understanding them -perfectly. It is scarcely worth while to say, either, that he valued -more highly than if he had inherited them the slaves he had toiled and -schemed for. - -"I don't think it safe to take Tom up North," he declared, with -promptness and decision. "He 's a good enough boy, but too smart to -trust among those low-down abolitionists. I strongly suspect him of -having learned to read, though I can't imagine how. I saw him with a -newspaper the other day, and while he pretended to be looking at a -woodcut, I 'm almost sure he was reading the paper. I think it by no -means safe to take him." - -Dick did not insist, because he knew it was useless. The colonel would -have obliged his son in any other matter, but his negroes were the -outward and visible sign of his wealth and station, and therefore sacred -to him. - -"Whom do you think it safe to take?" asked Dick. "I suppose I 'll have -to have a body-servant." - -"What 's the matter with Grandison?" suggested the colonel. "He 's handy -enough, and I reckon we can trust him. He 's too fond of good eating, -to risk losing his regular meals; besides, he 's sweet on your mother's -maid, Betty, and I 've promised to let 'em get married before long. I 'll -have Grandison up, and we 'll talk to him. Here, you boy Jack," called -the colonel to a yellow youth in the next room who was catching flies -and pulling their wings off to pass the time, "go down to the barn and -tell Grandison to come here." - -"Grandison," said the colonel, when the negro stood before him, hat in -hand. - -"Yas, marster." - -"Have n't I always treated you right?" - -"Yas, marster." - -"Have n't you always got all you wanted to eat?" - -"Yas, marster." - -"And as much whiskey and tobacco as was good for you, Grandison?" - -"Y-a-s, marster." - -"I should just like to know, Grandison, whether you don't think yourself -a great deal better off than those poor free negroes down by the plank -road, with no kind master to look after them and no mistress to give -them medicine when they 're sick and--and"---- - -"Well, I sh'd jes' reckon I is better off, suh, dan dem low-down free -niggers, suh! Ef anybody ax 'em who dey b'long ter, dey has ter say -nobody, er e'se lie erbout it. Anybody ax me who I b'longs ter, I ain' -got no 'casion ter be shame' ter tell 'em, no, suh, 'deed I ain', suh!" - -The colonel was beaming. This was true gratitude, and his feudal heart -thrilled at such appreciative homage. What cold-blooded, heartless -monsters they were who would break up this blissful relationship of -kindly protection on the one hand, of wise subordination and loyal -dependence on the other! The colonel always became indignant at the mere -thought of such wickedness. - -"Grandison," the colonel continued, "your young master Dick is going -North for a few weeks, and I am thinking of letting him take you along. -I shall send you on this trip, Grandison, in order that you may take -care of your young master. He will need some one to wait on him, and no -one can ever do it so well as one of the boys brought up with him on the -old plantation. I am going to trust him in your hands, and I 'm sure -you 'll do your duty faithfully, and bring him back home safe and -sound--to old Kentucky." - -Grandison grinned. "Oh yas, marster, I 'll take keer er young Mars -Dick." - -"I want to warn you, though, Grandison," continued the colonel -impressively, "against these cussed abolitionists, who try to entice -servants from their comfortable homes and their indulgent masters, from -the blue skies, the green fields, and the warm sunlight of their -southern home, and send them away off yonder to Canada, a dreary -country, where the woods are full of wildcats and wolves and bears, -where the snow lies up to the eaves of the houses for six months of the -year, and the cold is so severe that it freezes your breath and curdles -your blood; and where, when runaway niggers get sick and can't work, -they are turned out to starve and die, unloved and uncared for. I -reckon, Grandison, that you have too much sense to permit yourself to be -led astray by any such foolish and wicked people." - -"'Deed, suh, I would n' low none er dem cussed, low-down abolitioners -ter come nigh me, suh. I 'd--I 'd--would I be 'lowed ter hit 'em, suh?" - -"Certainly, Grandison," replied the colonel, chuckling, "hit 'em as hard -as you can. I reckon they 'd rather like it. Begad, I believe they -would! It would serve 'em right to be hit by a nigger!" - -"Er ef I did n't hit 'em, suh," continued Grandison reflectively, "I 'd -tell Mars Dick, en _he 'd_ fix 'em. He 'd smash de face off'n 'em, suh, -I jes' knows he would." - -"Oh yes, Grandison, your young master will protect you. You need fear no -harm while he is near." - -"Dey won't try ter steal me, will dey, marster?" asked the negro, with -sudden alarm. - -"I don't know, Grandison," replied the colonel, lighting a fresh cigar. -"They 're a desperate set of lunatics, and there 's no telling what they -may resort to. But if you stick close to your young master, and remember -always that he is your best friend, and understands your real needs, and -has your true interests at heart, and if you will be careful to avoid -strangers who try to talk to you, you 'll stand a fair chance of getting -back to your home and your friends. And if you please your master Dick, -he 'll buy you a present, and a string of beads for Betty to wear when -you and she get married in the fall." - -"Thanky, marster, thanky, suh," replied Grandison, oozing gratitude at -every pore; "you is a good marster, to be sho', suh; yas, 'deed you is. -You kin jes' bet me and Mars Dick gwine git 'long jes' lack I wuz own -boy ter Mars Dick. En it won't be my fault ef he don' want me fer his -boy all de time, w'en we come back home ag'in." - -"All right, Grandison, you may go now. You need n't work any more -to-day, and here 's a piece of tobacco for you off my own plug." - -"Thanky, marster, thanky, marster! You is de bes' marster any nigger -ever had in dis worl'." And Grandison bowed and scraped and disappeared -round the corner, his jaws closing around a large section of the -colonel's best tobacco. - -"You may take Grandison," said the colonel to his son. "I allow he 's -abolitionist-proof." - - - -III - - -Richard Owens, Esq., and servant, from Kentucky, registered at the -fashionable New York hostelry for Southerners in those days, a hotel -where an atmosphere congenial to Southern institutions was sedulously -maintained. But there were negro waiters in the dining-room, and mulatto -bell-boys, and Dick had no doubt that Grandison, with the native -gregariousness and garrulousness of his race, would foregather and -palaver with them sooner or later, and Dick hoped that they would -speedily inoculate him with the virus of freedom. For it was not Dick's -intention to say anything to his servant about his plan to free him, for -obvious reasons. To mention one of them, if Grandison should go away, -and by legal process be recaptured, his young master's part in the -matter would doubtless become known, which would be embarrassing to -Dick, to say the least. If, on the other hand, he should merely give -Grandison sufficient latitude, he had no doubt he would eventually lose -him. For while not exactly skeptical about Grandison's perfervid -loyalty, Dick had been a somewhat keen observer of human nature, in his -own indolent way, and based his expectations upon the force of the -example and argument that his servant could scarcely fail to encounter. -Grandison should have a fair chance to become free by his own -initiative; if it should become necessary to adopt other measures to get -rid of him, it would be time enough to act when the necessity arose; and -Dick Owens was not the youth to take needless trouble. - -The young master renewed some acquaintances and made others, and spent a -week or two very pleasantly in the best society of the metropolis, -easily accessible to a wealthy, well-bred young Southerner, with proper -introductions. Young women smiled on him, and young men of convivial -habits pressed their hospitalities; but the memory of Charity's sweet, -strong face and clear blue eyes made him proof against the blandishments -of the one sex and the persuasions of the other. Meanwhile he kept -Grandison supplied with pocket-money, and left him mainly to his own -devices. Every night when Dick came in he hoped he might have to wait -upon himself, and every morning he looked forward with pleasure to the -prospect of making his toilet unaided. His hopes, however, were doomed -to disappointment, for every night when he came in Grandison was on hand -with a bootjack, and a nightcap mixed for his young master as the -colonel had taught him to mix it, and every morning Grandison appeared -with his master's boots blacked and his clothes brushed, and laid his -linen out for the day. - -"Grandison," said Dick one morning, after finishing his toilet, "this is -the chance of your life to go around among your own people and see how -they live. Have you met any of them?" - -"Yas, suh, I 's seen some of 'em. But I don' keer nuffin fer 'em, suh. -Dey 're diffe'nt f'm de niggers down ou' way. Dey 'lows dey 're free, -but dey ain' got sense 'nuff ter know dey ain' half as well off as dey -would be down Souf, whar dey 'd be 'predated." - -When two weeks had passed without any apparent effect of evil example -upon Grandison, Dick resolved to go on to Boston, where he thought the -atmosphere might prove more favorable to his ends. After he had been at -the Revere House for a day or two without losing Grandison, he decided -upon slightly different tactics. - -Having ascertained from a city directory the addresses of several -well-known abolitionists, he wrote them each a letter something like -this:---- - - -Dear Friend and Brother:---- - -A wicked slaveholder from Kentucky, stopping at the Revere House, has -dared to insult the liberty-loving people of Boston by bringing his -slave into their midst. Shall this be tolerated? Or shall steps be taken -in the name of liberty to rescue a fellow-man from bondage? For obvious -reasons I can only sign myself, - -A Friend of Humanity. - -That his letter might have an opportunity to prove effective, Dick made -it a point to send Grandison away from the hotel on various errands. On -one of these occasions Dick watched him for quite a distance down the -street. Grandison had scarcely left the hotel when a long-haired, -sharp-featured man came out behind him, followed him, soon overtook him, -and kept along beside him until they turned the next corner. Dick's -hopes were roused by this spectacle, but sank correspondingly when -Grandison returned to the hotel. As Grandison said nothing about the -encounter, Dick hoped there might be some self-consciousness behind this -unexpected reticence, the results of which might develop later on. - -But Grandison was on hand again when his master came back to the hotel -at night, and was in attendance again in the morning, with hot water, to -assist at his master's toilet. Dick sent him on further errands from day -to day, and upon one occasion came squarely up to him--inadvertently of -course--while Grandison was engaged in conversation with a young white -man in clerical garb. When Grandison saw Dick approaching, he edged away -from the preacher and hastened toward his master, with a very evident -expression of relief upon his countenance. - -"Mars Dick," he said, "dese yer abolitioners is jes' pesterin' de life -out er me tryin' ter git me ter run away. I don' pay no 'tention ter -'em, but dey riles me so sometimes dat I 'm feared I 'll hit some of 'em -some er dese days, an' dat mought git me inter trouble. I ain' said -nuffin' ter you 'bout it, Mars Dick, fer I did n' wanter 'sturb yo' -min'; but I don' like it, suh; no, suh, I don'! Is we gwine back home -'fo' long, Mars Dick?" - -"We 'll be going back soon enough," replied Dick somewhat shortly, while -he inwardly cursed the stupidity of a slave who could be free and would -not, and registered a secret vow that if he were unable to get rid of -Grandison without assassinating him, and were therefore compelled to -take him back to Kentucky, he would see that Grandison got a taste of an -article of slavery that would make him regret his wasted opportunities. -Meanwhile he determined to tempt his servant yet more strongly. - -"Grandison," he said next morning, "I 'm going away for a day or two, -but I shall leave you here. I shall lock up a hundred dollars in this -drawer and give you the key. If you need any of it, use it and enjoy -yourself,--spend it all if you like,--for this is probably the last -chance you 'll have for some time to be in a free State, and you 'd -better enjoy your liberty while you may." - -When he came back a couple of days later and found the faithful -Grandison at his post, and the hundred dollars intact, Dick felt -seriously annoyed. His vexation was increased by the fact that he could -not express his feelings adequately. He did not even scold Grandison; -how could he, indeed, find fault with one who so sensibly recognized his -true place in the economy of civilization, and kept it with such -touching fidelity? - -"I can't say a thing to him," groaned Dick. "He deserves a leather -medal, made out of his own hide tanned. I reckon I 'll write to father -and let him know what a model servant he has given me." - -He wrote his father a letter which made the colonel swell with pride and -pleasure. "I really think," the colonel observed to one of his friends, -"that Dick ought to have the nigger interviewed by the Boston papers, so -that they may see how contented and happy our darkeys really are." - -Dick also wrote a long letter to Charity Lomax, in which he said, among -many other things, that if she knew how hard he was working, and under -what difficulties, to accomplish something serious for her sake, she -would no longer keep him in suspense, but overwhelm him with love and -admiration. - -Having thus exhausted without result the more obvious methods of -getting rid of Grandison, and diplomacy having also proved a failure, -Dick was forced to consider more radical measures. Of course he might -run away himself, and abandon Grandison, but this would be merely to -leave him in the United States, where he was still a slave, and where, -with his notions of loyalty, he would speedily be reclaimed. It was -necessary, in order to accomplish the purpose of his trip to the North, -to leave Grandison permanently in Canada, where he would be legally -free. - -"I might extend my trip to Canada," he reflected, "but that would be too -palpable. I have it! I 'll visit Niagara Falls on the way home, and lose -him on the Canada side. When he once realizes that he is actually free, -I 'll warrant that he 'll stay." - -So the next day saw them westward bound, and in due course of time, by -the somewhat slow conveyances of the period, they found themselves at -Niagara. Dick walked and drove about the Falls for several days, taking -Grandison along with him on most occasions. One morning they stood on -the Canadian side, watching the wild whirl of the waters below them. - -"Grandison," said Dick, raising his voice above the roar of the -cataract, "do you know where you are now?" - -"I 's wid you, Mars Dick; dat 's all I keers." - -"You are now in Canada, Grandison, where your people go when they run -away from their masters. If you wished, Grandison, you might walk away -from me this very minute, and I could not lay my hand upon you to take -you back." - -Grandison looked around uneasily. - -"Let 's go back ober de ribber, Mars Dick. I 's feared I 'll lose you -ovuh heah, an' den I won' hab no marster, an' won't nebber be able to -git back home no mo'." - -Discouraged, but not yet hopeless, Dick said, a few minutes later,---- - -"Grandison, I 'm going up the road a bit, to the inn over yonder. You -stay here until I return. I 'll not be gone a great while." - -Grandison's eyes opened wide and he looked somewhat fearful. - -"Is dey any er dem dadblasted abolitioners roun' heah, Mars Dick?" - -"I don't imagine that there are," replied his master, hoping there -might be. "But I 'm not afraid of _your_ running away, Grandison. I only -wish I were," he added to himself. - -Dick walked leisurely down the road to where the whitewashed inn, built -of stone, with true British solidity, loomed up through the trees by the -roadside. Arrived there he ordered a glass of ale and a sandwich, and -took a seat at a table by a window, from which he could see Grandison in -the distance. For a while he hoped that the seed he had sown might have -fallen on fertile ground, and that Grandison, relieved from the -restraining power of a master's eye, and finding himself in a free -country, might get up and walk away; but the hope was vain, for -Grandison remained faithfully at his post, awaiting his master's return. -He had seated himself on a broad flat stone, and, turning his eyes away -from the grand and awe-inspiring spectacle that lay close at hand, was -looking anxiously toward the inn where his master sat cursing his -ill-timed fidelity. - -By and by a girl came into the room to serve his order, and Dick very -naturally glanced at her; and as she was young and pretty and remained -in attendance, it was some minutes before he looked for Grandison. When -he did so his faithful servant had disappeared. - -To pay his reckoning and go away without the change was a matter quickly -accomplished. Retracing his footsteps toward the Falls, he saw, to his -great disgust, as he approached the spot where he had left Grandison, -the familiar form of his servant stretched out on the ground, his face -to the sun, his mouth open, sleeping the time away, oblivious alike to -the grandeur of the scenery, the thunderous roar of the cataract, or the -insidious voice of sentiment. - -"Grandison," soliloquized his master, as he stood gazing down at his -ebony encumbrance, "I do not deserve to be an American citizen; I ought -not to have the advantages I possess over you; and I certainly am not -worthy of Charity Lomax, if I am not smart enough to get rid of you. I -have an idea! You shall yet be free, and I will be the instrument of -your deliverance. Sleep on, faithful and affectionate servitor, and -dream of the blue grass and the bright skies of old Kentucky, for it is -only in your dreams that you will ever see them again!" - -Dick retraced his footsteps towards the inn. The young woman chanced to -look out of the window and saw the handsome young gentleman she had -waited on a few minutes before, standing in the road a short distance -away, apparently engaged in earnest conversation with a colored man -employed as hostler for the inn. She thought she saw something pass from -the white man to the other, but at that moment her duties called her -away from the window, and when she looked out again the young gentleman -had disappeared, and the hostler, with two other young men of the -neighborhood, one white and one colored, were walking rapidly towards -the Falls. - - - -IV - - -Dick made the journey homeward alone, and as rapidly as the conveyances -of the day would permit. As he drew near home his conduct in going back -without Grandison took on a more serious aspect than it had borne at any -previous time, and although he had prepared the colonel by a letter sent -several days ahead, there was still the prospect of a bad quarter of an -hour with him; not, indeed, that his father would upbraid him, but he -was likely to make searching inquiries. And notwithstanding the vein of -quiet recklessness that had carried Dick through his preposterous -scheme, he was a very poor liar, having rarely had occasion or -inclination to tell anything but the truth. Any reluctance to meet his -father was more than offset, however, by a stronger force drawing him -homeward, for Charity Lomax must long since have returned from her visit -to her aunt in Tennessee. - -Dick got off easier than he had expected. He told a straight story, and -a truthful one, so far as it went. - -The colonel raged at first, but rage soon subsided into anger, and anger -moderated into annoyance, and annoyance into a sort of garrulous sense -of injury. The colonel thought he had been hardly used; he had trusted -this negro, and he had broken faith. Yet, after all, he did not blame -Grandison so much as he did the abolitionists, who were undoubtedly at -the bottom of it. - -As for Charity Lomax, Dick told her, privately of course, that he had -run his father's man, Grandison, off to Canada, and left him there. - -"Oh, Dick," she had said with shuddering alarm, "what have you done? If -they knew it they 'd send you to the penitentiary, like they did that -Yankee." - -"But they don't know it," he had replied seriously; adding, with an -injured tone, "you don't seem to appreciate my heroism like you did that -of the Yankee; perhaps it 's because I was n't caught and sent to the -penitentiary. I thought you wanted me to do it." - -"Why, Dick Owens!" she exclaimed. "You know I never dreamed of any such -outrageous proceeding. - -"But I presume I 'll have to marry you," she concluded, after some -insistence on Dick's part, "if only to take care of you. You are too -reckless for anything; and a man who goes chasing all over the North, -being entertained by New York and Boston society and having negroes to -throw away, needs some one to look after him." - -"It 's a most remarkable thing," replied Dick fervently, "that your -views correspond exactly with my profoundest convictions. It proves -beyond question that we were made for one another." - - * * * * * - -They were married three weeks later. As each of them had just returned -from a journey, they spent their honeymoon at home. - -A week after the wedding they were seated, one afternoon, on the piazza -of the colonel's house, where Dick had taken his bride, when a negro -from the yard ran down the lane and threw open the big gate for the -colonel's buggy to enter. The colonel was not alone. Beside him, ragged -and travel-stained, bowed with weariness, and upon his face a haggard -look that told of hardship and privation, sat the lost Grandison. - -The colonel alighted at the steps. - -"Take the lines, Tom," he said to the man who had opened the gate, "and -drive round to the barn. Help Grandison down,--poor devil, he 's so -stiff he can hardly move!--and get a tub of water and wash him and rub -him down, and feed him, and give him a big drink of whiskey, and then -let him come round and see his young master and his new mistress." - -The colonel's face wore an expression compounded of joy and -indignation,--joy at the restoration of a valuable piece of property; -indignation for reasons he proceeded to state. - -"It 's astounding, the depths of depravity the human heart is capable -of! I was coming along the road three miles away, when I heard some one -call me from the roadside. I pulled up the mare, and who should come out -of the woods but Grandison. The poor nigger could hardly crawl along, -with the help of a broken limb. I was never more astonished in my life. -You could have knocked me down with a feather. He seemed pretty far -gone,--he could hardly talk above a whisper,--and I had to give him a -mouthful of whiskey to brace him up so he could tell his story. It 's -just as I thought from the beginning, Dick; Grandison had no notion of -running away; he knew when he was well off, and where his friends were. -All the persuasions of abolition liars and runaway niggers did not move -him. But the desperation of those fanatics knew no bounds; their guilty -consciences gave them no rest. They got the notion somehow that -Grandison belonged to a nigger-catcher, and had been brought North as a -spy to help capture ungrateful runaway servants. They actually kidnaped -him--just think of it!--and gagged him and bound him and threw him -rudely into a wagon, and carried him into the gloomy depths of a -Canadian forest, and locked him in a lonely hut, and fed him on bread -and water for three weeks. One of the scoundrels wanted to kill him, and -persuaded the others that it ought to be done; but they got to -quarreling about how they should do it, and before they had their minds -made up Grandison escaped, and, keeping his back steadily to the North -Star, made his way, after suffering incredible hardships, back to the -old plantation, back to his master, his friends, and his home. Why, it 's -as good as one of Scott's novels! Mr. Simms or some other one of our -Southern authors ought to write it up." - -"Don't you think, sir," suggested Dick, who had calmly smoked his cigar -throughout the colonel's animated recital, "that that kidnaping yarn -sounds a little improbable? Is n't there some more likely explanation?" - -"Nonsense, Dick; it 's the gospel truth! Those infernal abolitionists -are capable of anything--everything! Just think of their locking the -poor, faithful nigger up, beating him, kicking him, depriving him of his -liberty, keeping him on bread and water for three long, lonesome weeks, -and he all the time pining for the old plantation!" - -There were almost tears in the colonel's eyes at the picture of -Grandison's sufferings that he conjured up. Dick still professed to be -slightly skeptical, and met Charity's severely questioning eye with -bland unconsciousness. - -The colonel killed the fatted calf for Grandison, and for two or three -weeks the returned wanderer's life was a slave's dream of pleasure. His -fame spread throughout the county, and the colonel gave him a permanent -place among the house servants, where he could always have him -conveniently at hand to relate his adventures to admiring visitors. - - * * * * * - -About three weeks after Grandison's return the colonel's faith in sable -humanity was rudely shaken, and its foundations almost broken up. He -came near losing his belief in the fidelity of the negro to his -master,--the servile virtue most highly prized and most sedulously -cultivated by the colonel and his kind. One Monday morning Grandison was -missing. And not only Grandison, but his wife, Betty the maid; his -mother, aunt Eunice; his father, uncle Ike; his brothers, Tom and John, -and his little sister Elsie, were likewise absent from the plantation; -and a hurried search and inquiry in the neighborhood resulted in no -information as to their whereabouts. So much valuable property could not -be lost without an effort to recover it, and the wholesale nature of the -transaction carried consternation to the hearts of those whose ledgers -were chiefly bound in black. Extremely energetic measures were taken by -the colonel and his friends. The fugitives were traced, and followed -from point to point, on their northward run through Ohio. Several times -the hunters were close upon their heels, but the magnitude of the -escaping party begot unusual vigilance on the part of those who -sympathized with the fugitives, and strangely enough, the underground -railroad seemed to have had its tracks cleared and signals set for this -particular train. Once, twice, the colonel thought he had them, but -they slipped through his fingers. - -One last glimpse he caught of his vanishing property, as he stood, -accompanied by a United States marshal, on a wharf at a port on the -south shore of Lake Erie. On the stern of a small steamboat which was -receding rapidly from the wharf, with her nose pointing toward Canada, -there stood a group of familiar dark faces, and the look they cast -backward was not one of longing for the fleshpots of Egypt. The colonel -saw Grandison point him out to one of the crew of the vessel, who waved -his hand derisively toward the colonel. The latter shook his fist -impotently--and the incident was closed. - - - - -Uncle Wellington's Wives - - - -I - - -Uncle Wellington Braboy was so deeply absorbed in thought as he walked -slowly homeward from the weekly meeting of the Union League, that he let -his pipe go out, a fact of which he remained oblivious until he had -reached the little frame house in the suburbs of Patesville, where he -lived with aunt Milly, his wife. On this particular occasion the club -had been addressed by a visiting brother from the North, Professor -Patterson, a tall, well-formed mulatto, who wore a perfectly fitting -suit of broadcloth, a shiny silk hat, and linen of dazzling -whiteness,--in short, a gentleman of such distinguished appearance that -the doors and windows of the offices and stores on Front Street were -filled with curious observers as he passed through that thoroughfare in -the early part of the day. This polished stranger was a traveling -organizer of Masonic lodges, but he also claimed to be a high officer in -the Union League, and had been invited to lecture before the local -chapter of that organization at Patesville. - -The lecture had been largely attended, and uncle* Wellington Braboy had -occupied a seat just in front of the platform. The subject of the -lecture was "The Mental, Moral, Physical, Political, Social, and -Financial Improvement of the Negro Race in America," a theme much dwelt -upon, with slight variations, by colored orators. For to this struggling -people, then as now, the problem of their uncertain present and their -doubtful future was the chief concern of life. The period was the -hopeful one. The Federal Government retained some vestige of authority -in the South, and the newly emancipated race cherished the delusion that -under the Constitution, that enduring rock on which our liberties are -founded, and under the equal laws it purported to guarantee, they would -enter upon the era of freedom and opportunity which their Northern -friends had inaugurated with such solemn sanctions. The speaker pictured -in eloquent language the state of ideal equality and happiness enjoyed -by colored people at the North: how they sent their children to school -with the white children; how they sat by white people in the churches -and theatres, ate with them in the public restaurants, and buried their -dead in the same cemeteries. The professor waxed eloquent with the -development of his theme, and, as a finishing touch to an alluring -picture, assured the excited audience that the intermarriage of the -races was common, and that he himself had espoused a white woman. - -Uncle Wellington Braboy was a deeply interested listener. He had heard -something of these facts before, but his information had always come in -such vague and questionable shape that he had paid little attention to -it. He knew that the Yankees had freed the slaves, and that runaway -negroes had always gone to the North to seek liberty; any such equality, -however, as the visiting brother had depicted, was more than uncle -Wellington had ever conceived as actually existing anywhere in the -world. At first he felt inclined to doubt the truth of the speaker's -statements; but the cut of his clothes, the eloquence of his language, -and the flowing length of his whiskers, were so far superior to anything -uncle Wellington had ever met among the colored people of his native -State, that he felt irresistibly impelled to the conviction that nothing -less than the advantages claimed for the North by the visiting brother -could have produced such an exquisite flower of civilization. Any -lingering doubts uncle Wellington may have felt were entirely dispelled -by the courtly bow and cordial grasp of the hand with which the visiting -brother acknowledged the congratulations showered upon him by the -audience at the close of his address. - -The more uncle Wellington's mind dwelt upon the professor's speech, the -more attractive seemed the picture of Northern life presented. Uncle -Wellington possessed in large measure the imaginative faculty so freely -bestowed by nature upon the race from which the darker half of his blood -was drawn. He had indulged in occasional day-dreams of an ideal state of -social equality, but his wildest flights of fancy had never located it -nearer than heaven, and he had felt some misgivings about its practical -working even there. Its desirability he had never doubted, and the -speech of the evening before had given a local habitation and a name to -the forms his imagination had bodied forth. Giving full rein to his -fancy, he saw in the North a land flowing with milk and honey,--a land -peopled by noble men and beautiful women, among whom colored men and -women moved with the ease and grace of acknowledged right. Then he -placed himself in the foreground of the picture. What a fine figure he -would have made in the world if he had been born at the free North! He -imagined himself dressed like the professor, and passing the -contribution-box in a white church; and most pleasant of his dreams, and -the hardest to realize as possible, was that of the gracious white lady -he might have called wife. Uncle Wellington was a mulatto, and his -features were those of his white father, though tinged with the hue of -his mother's race; and as he lifted the kerosene lamp at evening, and -took a long look at his image in the little mirror over the mantelpiece, -he said to himself that he was a very good-looking man, and could have -adorned a much higher sphere in life than that in which the accident of -birth had placed him. He fell asleep and dreamed that he lived in a -two-story brick house, with a spacious flower garden in front, the whole -inclosed by a high iron fence; that he kept a carriage and servants, and -never did a stroke of work. This was the highest style of living in -Patesville, and he could conceive of nothing finer. - -Uncle Wellington slept later than usual the next morning, and the -sunlight was pouring in at the open window of the bedroom, when his -dreams were interrupted by the voice of his wife, in tones meant to be -harsh, but which no ordinary degree of passion could rob of their native -unctuousness. - -"Git up f'm dere, you lazy, good-fuh-nuffin' nigger! Is you gwine ter -sleep all de mawnin'? I 's ti'ed er dis yer runnin' 'roun' all night an' -den sleepin' all day. You won't git dat tater patch hoed ovuh ter-day -'less'n you git up f'm dere an' git at it." - -Uncle Wellington rolled over, yawned cavernously, stretched himself, and -with a muttered protest got out of bed and put on his clothes. Aunt -Milly had prepared a smoking breakfast of hominy and fried bacon, the -odor of which was very grateful to his nostrils. - -"Is breakfus' done ready?" he inquired, tentatively, as he came into the -kitchen and glanced at the table. - -"No, it ain't ready, an' 't ain't gwine ter be ready 'tel you tote dat -wood an' water in," replied aunt Milly severely, as she poured two -teacups of boiling water on two tablespoonfuls of ground coffee. - -Uncle Wellington went down to the spring and got a pail of water, after -which he brought in some oak logs for the fire place and some lightwood -for kindling. Then he drew a chair towards the table and started to sit -down. - -"Wonduh what 's de matter wid you dis mawnin' anyhow," remarked aunt -Milly. "You must 'a' be'n up ter some devilment las' night, fer yo' -recommemb'ance is so po' dat you fus' fergit ter git up, an' den fergit -ter wash yo' face an' hands fo' you set down ter de table. I don' 'low -nobody ter eat at my table dat a-way." - -"I don' see no use 'n washin' 'em so much," replied Wellington wearily. -"Dey gits dirty ag'in right off, an' den you got ter wash 'em ovuh -ag'in; it 's jes' pilin' up wuk what don' fetch in nuffin'. De dirt don' -show nohow, 'n' I don' see no advantage in bein' black, ef you got to -keep on washin' yo' face 'n' han's jes' lack w'ite folks." He -nevertheless performed his ablutions in a perfunctory way, and resumed -his seat at the breakfast-table. - -"Ole 'oman," he asked, after the edge of his appetite had been taken -off, "how would you lack ter live at de Norf?" - -"I dunno nuffin' 'bout de Norf," replied aunt Milly. "It 's hard 'nuff -ter git erlong heah, whar we knows all erbout it." - -"De brother what 'dressed de meetin' las' night say dat de wages at de -Norf is twicet ez big ez dey is heah." - -"You could make a sight mo' wages heah ef you 'd 'ten' ter yo' wuk -better," replied aunt Milly. - -Uncle Wellington ignored this personality, and continued, "An' he say de -cullud folks got all de privileges er de w'ite folks,--dat dey chillen -goes ter school tergedder, dat dey sets on same seats in chu'ch, an' -sarves on jury, 'n' rides on de kyars an' steamboats wid de w'ite folks, -an' eats at de fus' table." - -"Dat 'u'd suit you," chuckled aunt Milly, "an' you 'd stay dere fer de -secon' table, too. How dis man know 'bout all dis yer foolis'ness?" she -asked incredulously. - -"He come f'm de Norf," said uncle Wellington, "an' he 'speunced it all -hisse'f." - -"Well, he can't make me b'lieve it," she rejoined, with a shake of her -head. - -"An' you would n' lack ter go up dere an' 'joy all dese privileges?" -asked uncle Wellington, with some degree of earnestness. - -The old woman laughed until her sides shook. "Who gwine ter take me up -dere?" she inquired. - -"You got de money yo'se'f." - -"I ain' got no money fer ter was'e," she replied shortly, becoming -serious at once; and with that the subject was dropped. - -Uncle Wellington pulled a hoe from under the house, and took his way -wearily to the potato patch. He did not feel like working, but aunt -Milly was the undisputed head of the establishment, and he did not dare -to openly neglect his work. - -In fact, he regarded work at any time as a disagreeable necessity to be -avoided as much as possible. - -His wife was cast in a different mould. Externally she would have -impressed the casual observer as a neat, well-preserved, and -good-looking black woman, of middle age, every curve of whose ample -figure--and her figure was all curves--was suggestive of repose. So far -from being indolent, or even deliberate in her movements, she was the -most active and energetic woman in the town. She went through the -physical exercises of a prayer-meeting with astonishing vigor. It was -exhilarating to see her wash a shirt, and a study to watch her do it up. -A quick jerk shook out the dampened garment; one pass of her ample palm -spread it over the ironing-board, and a few well-directed strokes with -the iron accomplished what would have occupied the ordinary laundress -for half an hour. - -To this uncommon, and in uncle Wellington's opinion unnecessary and -unnatural activity, his own habits were a steady protest. If aunt Milly -had been willing to support him in idleness, he would have acquiesced -without a murmur in her habits of industry. This she would not do, and, -moreover, insisted on his working at least half the time. If she had -invested the proceeds of her labor in rich food and fine clothing, he -might have endured it better; but to her passion for work was added a -most detestable thrift. She absolutely refused to pay for Wellington's -clothes, and required him to furnish a certain proportion of the family -supplies. Her savings were carefully put by, and with them she had -bought and paid for the modest cottage which she and her husband -occupied. Under her careful hand it was always neat and clean; in summer -the little yard was gay with bright-colored flowers, and woe to the -heedless pickaninny who should stray into her yard and pluck a rose or a -verbena! In a stout oaken chest under her bed she kept a capacious -stocking, into which flowed a steady stream of fractional currency. She -carried the key to this chest in her pocket, a proceeding regarded by -uncle Wellington with no little disfavor. He was of the opinion--an -opinion he would not have dared to assert in her presence--that his -wife's earnings were his own property; and he looked upon this stocking -as a drunkard's wife might regard the saloon which absorbed her -husband's wages. - -Uncle Wellington hurried over the potato patch on the morning of the -conversation above recorded, and as soon as he saw aunt Milly go away -with a basket of clothes on her head, returned to the house, put on his -coat, and went uptown. - -He directed his steps to a small frame building fronting on the main -street of the village, at a point where the street was intersected by -one of the several creeks meandering through the town, cooling the air, -providing numerous swimming-holes for the amphibious small boy, and -furnishing water-power for grist-mills and saw-mills. The rear of the -building rested on long brick pillars, built up from the bottom of the -steep bank of the creek, while the front was level with the street. This -was the office of Mr. Matthew Wright, the sole representative of the -colored race at the bar of Chinquapin County. Mr. Wright came of an "old -issue" free colored family, in which, though the negro blood was present -in an attenuated strain, a line of free ancestry could be traced beyond -the Revolutionary War. He had enjoyed exceptional opportunities, and -enjoyed the distinction of being the first, and for a long time the only -colored lawyer in North Carolina. His services were frequently called -into requisition by impecunious people of his own race; when they had -money they went to white lawyers, who, they shrewdly conjectured, would -have more influence with judge or jury than a colored lawyer, however -able. - -Uncle Wellington found Mr. Wright in his office. Having inquired after -the health of the lawyer's family and all his relations in detail, uncle -Wellington asked for a professional opinion. - -"Mistah Wright, ef a man's wife got money, whose money is dat befo' de -law--his'n er her'n?" - -The lawyer put on his professional air, and replied:---- - -"Under the common law, which in default of special legislative enactment -is the law of North Carolina, the personal property of the wife belongs -to her husband." - -"But dat don' jes' tech de p'int, suh. I wuz axin' 'bout money." - -"You see, uncle Wellington, your education has not rendered you familiar -with legal phraseology. The term 'personal property' or 'estate' -embraces, according to Blackstone, all property other than land, and -therefore includes money. Any money a man's wife has is his, -constructively, and will be recognized as his actually, as soon as he -can secure possession of it." - -"Dat is ter say, suh--my eddication don' quite 'low me ter understan' -dat--dat is ter say"---- - -"That is to say, it 's yours when you get it. It is n't yours so that -the law will help you get it; but on the other hand, when you once lay -your hands on it, it is yours so that the law won't take it away from -you." - -Uncle Wellington nodded to express his full comprehension of the law as -expounded by Mr. Wright, but scratched his head in a way that expressed -some disappointment. The law seemed to wobble. Instead of enabling him -to stand up fearlessly and demand his own, it threw him back upon his -own efforts; and the prospect of his being able to overpower or outwit -aunt Milly by any ordinary means was very poor. - -He did not leave the office, but hung around awhile as though there were -something further he wished to speak about. Finally, after some -discursive remarks about the crops and politics, he asked, in an -offhand, disinterested manner, as though the thought had just occurred -to him:---- - -"Mistah Wright, w'ile's we 're talkin' 'bout law matters, what do it -cos' ter git a defoce?" - -"That depends upon circumstances. It is n't altogether a matter of -expense. Have you and aunt Milly been having trouble?" - -"Oh no, suh; I was jes' a-wond'rin'." - -"You see," continued the lawyer, who was fond of talking, and had -nothing else to do for the moment, "a divorce is not an easy thing to -get in this State under any circumstances. It used to be the law that -divorce could be granted only by special act of the legislature; and it -is but recently that the subject has been relegated to the jurisdiction -of the courts." - -Uncle Wellington understood a part of this, but the answer had not been -exactly to the point in his mind. - -"S'pos'n', den, jes' fer de argyment, me an' my ole 'oman sh'd fall out -en wanter separate, how could I git a defoce?" - -"That would depend on what you quarreled about. It 's pretty hard work -to answer general questions in a particular way. If you merely wished to -separate, it would n't be necessary to get a divorce; but if you should -want to marry again, you would have to be divorced, or else you would be -guilty of bigamy, and could be sent to the penitentiary. But, by the -way, uncle Wellington, when were you married?" - -"I got married 'fo' de wah, when I was livin' down on Rockfish Creek." - -"When you were in slavery?" - -"Yas, suh." - -"Did you have your marriage registered after the surrender?" - -"No, suh; never knowed nuffin' 'bout dat." - -After the war, in North Carolina and other States, the freed people who -had sustained to each other the relation of husband and wife as it -existed among slaves, were required by law to register their consent to -continue in the marriage relation. By this simple expedient their former -marriages of convenience received the sanction of law, and their -children the seal of legitimacy. In many cases, however, where the -parties lived in districts remote from the larger towns, the ceremony -was neglected, or never heard of by the freedmen. - -"Well," said the lawyer, "if that is the case, and you and aunt Milly -should disagree, it would n't be necessary for you to get a divorce, -even if you should want to marry again. You were never legally married." - -"So Milly ain't my lawful wife, den?" - -"She may be your wife in one sense of the word, but not in such a sense -as to render you liable to punishment for bigamy if you should marry -another woman. But I hope you will never want to do anything of the -kind, for you have a very good wife now." - -Uncle Wellington went away thoughtfully, but with a feeling of -unaccustomed lightness and freedom. He had not felt so free since the -memorable day when he had first heard of the Emancipation Proclamation. -On leaving the lawyer's office, he called at the workshop of one of his -friends, Peter Williams, a shoemaker by trade, who had a brother living -in Ohio. - -"Is you hearn f'm Sam lately?" uncle Wellington inquired, after the -conversation had drifted through the usual generalities. - -"His mammy got er letter f'm 'im las' week; he 's livin' in de town er -Groveland now." - -"How 's he gittin' on?" - -"He says he gittin' on monst'us well. He 'low ez how he make five -dollars a day w'ite-washin', an' have all he kin do." - -The shoemaker related various details of his brother's prosperity, and -uncle Wellington returned home in a very thoughtful mood, revolving in -his mind a plan of future action. This plan had been vaguely assuming -form ever since the professor's lecture, and the events of the morning -had brought out the detail in bold relief. - -Two days after the conversation with the shoemaker, aunt Milly went, in -the afternoon, to visit a sister of hers who lived several miles out in -the country. During her absence, which lasted until nightfall, uncle -Wellington went uptown and purchased a cheap oilcloth valise from a -shrewd son of Israel, who had penetrated to this locality with a stock -of notions and cheap clothing. Uncle Wellington had his purchase done up -in brown paper, and took the parcel under his arm. Arrived at home he -unwrapped the valise, and thrust into its capacious jaws his best suit -of clothes, some underwear, and a few other small articles for personal -use and adornment. Then he carried the valise out into the yard, and, -first looking cautiously around to see if there was any one in sight, -concealed it in a clump of bushes in a corner of the yard. - -It may be inferred from this proceeding that uncle Wellington was -preparing for a step of some consequence. In fact, he had fully made up -his mind to go to the North; but he still lacked the most important -requisite for traveling with comfort, namely, the money to pay his -expenses. The idea of tramping the distance which separated him from the -promised land of liberty and equality had never occurred to him. When a -slave, he had several times been importuned by fellow servants to join -them in the attempt to escape from bondage, but he had never wanted his -freedom badly enough to walk a thousand miles for it; if he could have -gone to Canada by stage-coach, or by rail, or on horseback, with stops -for regular meals, he would probably have undertaken the trip. The funds -he now needed for his journey were in aunt Milly's chest. He had thought -a great deal about his right to this money. It was his wife's savings, -and he had never dared to dispute, openly, her right to exercise -exclusive control over what she earned; but the lawyer had assured him -of his right to the money, of which he was already constructively in -possession, and he had therefore determined to possess himself actually -of the coveted stocking. It was impracticable for him to get the key of -the chest. Aunt Milly kept it in her pocket by day and under her pillow -at night. She was a light sleeper, and, if not awakened by the -abstraction of the key, would certainly have been disturbed by the -unlocking of the chest. But one alternative remained, and that was to -break open the chest in her absence. - -There was a revival in progress at the colored Methodist church. Aunt -Milly was as energetic in her religion as in other respects, and had not -missed a single one of the meetings. She returned at nightfall from her -visit to the country and prepared a frugal supper. Uncle Wellington did -not eat as heartily as usual. Aunt Milly perceived his want of appetite, -and spoke of it. He explained it by saying that he did not feel very -well. - -"Is you gwine ter chu'ch ter-night?" inquired his wife. - -"I reckon I 'll stay home an' go ter bed," he replied. "I ain't be'n -feelin' well dis evenin', an' I 'spec' I better git a good night's -res'." - -"Well, you kin stay ef you mineter. Good preachin' 'u'd make you feel -better, but ef you ain't gwine, don' fergit ter tote in some wood an' -lighterd 'fo' you go ter bed. De moon is shinin' bright, an' you can't -have no 'scuse 'bout not bein' able ter see." - -Uncle Wellington followed her out to the gate, and watched her receding -form until it disappeared in the distance. Then he re-entered the house -with a quick step, and taking a hatchet from a corner of the room, drew -the chest from under the bed. As he applied the hatchet to the -fastenings, a thought struck him, and by the flickering light of the -pine-knot blazing on the hearth, a look of hesitation might have been -seen to take the place of the determined expression his face had worn up -to that time. He had argued himself into the belief that his present -action was lawful and justifiable. Though this conviction had not -prevented him from trembling in every limb, as though he were committing -a mere vulgar theft, it had still nerved him to the deed. Now even his -moral courage began to weaken. The lawyer had told him that his wife's -property was his own; in taking it he was therefore only exercising his -lawful right. But at the point of breaking open the chest, it occurred -to him that he was taking this money in order to get away from aunt -Milly, and that he justified his desertion of her by the lawyer's -opinion that she was not his lawful wife. If she was not his wife, then -he had no right to take the money; if she was his wife, he had no right -to desert her, and would certainly have no right to marry another woman. -His scheme was about to go to shipwreck on this rock, when another idea -occurred to him. - -"De lawyer say dat in one sense er de word de ole 'oman is my wife, an' -in anudder sense er de word she ain't my wife. Ef I goes ter de Norf an' -marry a w'ite 'oman, I ain't commit no brigamy, 'caze in dat sense er de -word she ain't my wife; but ef I takes dis money, I ain't stealin' it, -'caze in dat sense er de word she is my wife. Dat 'splains all de -trouble away." - -Having reached this ingenious conclusion, uncle Wellington applied the -hatchet vigorously, soon loosened the fastenings of the chest, and with -trembling hands extracted from its depths a capacious blue cotton -stocking. He emptied the stocking on the table. His first impulse was to -take the whole, but again there arose in his mind a doubt--a very -obtrusive, unreasonable doubt, but a doubt, nevertheless--of the -absolute rectitude of his conduct; and after a moment's hesitation he -hurriedly counted the money--it was in bills of small denominations--and -found it to be about two hundred and fifty dollars. He then divided it -into two piles of one hundred and twenty-five dollars each. He put one -pile into his pocket, returned the remainder to the stocking, and -replaced it where he had found it. He then closed the chest and shoved -it under the bed. After having arranged the fire so that it could safely -be left burning, he took a last look around the room, and went out into -the moonlight, locking the door behind him, and hanging the key on a -nail in the wall, where his wife would be likely to look for it. He then -secured his valise from behind the bushes, and left the yard. As he -passed by the wood-pile, he said to himself:---- - -"Well, I declar' ef I ain't done fergot ter tote in dat lighterd; I -reckon de ole 'oman 'll ha' ter fetch it in herse'f dis time." - -He hastened through the quiet streets, avoiding the few people who were -abroad at that hour, and soon reached the railroad station, from which a -North-bound train left at nine o'clock. He went around to the dark side -of the train, and climbed into a second-class car, where he shrank into -the darkest corner and turned his face away from the dim light of the -single dirty lamp. There were no passengers in the car except one or two -sleepy negroes, who had got on at some other station, and a white man -who had gone into the car to smoke, accompanied by a gigantic -bloodhound. - -Finally the train crept out of the station. From the window uncle -Wellington looked out upon the familiar cabins and turpentine stills, -the new barrel factory, the brickyard where he had once worked for some -time; and as the train rattled through the outskirts of the town, he saw -gleaming in the moonlight the white headstones of the colored cemetery -where his only daughter had been buried several years before. - -Presently the conductor came around. Uncle Wellington had not bought a -ticket, and the conductor collected a cash fare. He was not acquainted -with uncle Wellington, but had just had a drink at the saloon near the -depot, and felt at peace with all mankind. - -"Where are you going, uncle?" he inquired carelessly. - -Uncle Wellington's face assumed the ashen hue which does duty for -pallor in dusky countenances, and his knees began to tremble. -Controlling his voice as well as he could, he replied that he was going -up to Jonesboro, the terminus of the railroad, to work for a gentleman -at that place. He felt immensely relieved when the conductor pocketed -the fare, picked up his lantern, and moved away. It was very -unphilosophical and very absurd that a man who was only doing right -should feel like a thief, shrink from the sight of other people, and lie -instinctively. Fine distinctions were not in uncle Wellington's line, -but he was struck by the unreasonableness of his feelings, and still -more by the discomfort they caused him. By and by, however, the motion -of the train made him drowsy; his thoughts all ran together in -confusion; and he fell asleep with his head on his valise, and one hand -in his pocket, clasped tightly around the roll of money. - - - -II - - -The train from Pittsburg drew into the Union Depot at Groveland, Ohio, -one morning in the spring of 187-, with bell ringing and engine puffing; -and from a smoking-car emerged the form of uncle Wellington Braboy, a -little dusty and travel-stained, and with a sleepy look about his eyes. -He mingled in the crowd, and, valise in hand, moved toward the main exit -from the depot. There were several tracks to be crossed, and more than -once a watchman snatched him out of the way of a baggage-truck, or a -train backing into the depot. He at length reached the door, beyond -which, and as near as the regulations would permit, stood a number of -hackmen, vociferously soliciting patronage. One of them, a colored man, -soon secured several passengers. As he closed the door after the last -one he turned to uncle Wellington, who stood near him on the sidewalk, -looking about irresolutely. - -"Is you goin' uptown?" asked the hackman, as he prepared to mount the -box. - -"Yas, suh." - -"I 'll take you up fo' a quahtah, ef you want ter git up here an' ride -on de box wid me." - -Uncle Wellington accepted the offer and mounted the box. The hackman -whipped up his horses, the carriage climbed the steep hill leading up to -the town, and the passengers inside were soon deposited at their hotels. - -"Whereabouts do you want to go?" asked the hackman of uncle Wellington, -when the carriage was emptied of its last passengers. - -"I want ter go ter Brer Sam Williams's," said Wellington. - -"What 's his street an' number?" - -Uncle Wellington did not know the street and number, and the hackman had -to explain to him the mystery of numbered houses, to which he was a -total stranger. - -"Where is he from?" asked the hackman, "and what is his business?" - -"He is f'm Norf Ca'lina," replied uncle Wellington, "an' makes his -livin' w'itewashin'." - -"I reckon I knows de man," said the hackman. "I 'spec' he 's changed his -name. De man I knows is name' Johnson. He b'longs ter my chu'ch. I 'm -gwine out dat way ter git a passenger fer de ten o'clock train, an I 'll -take you by dere." - -They followed one of the least handsome streets of the city for more -than a mile, turned into a cross street, and drew up before a small -frame house, from the front of which a sign, painted in white upon a -black background, announced to the reading public, in letters inclined -to each other at various angles, that whitewashing and kalsomining were -"dun" there. A knock at the door brought out a slatternly looking -colored woman. She had evidently been disturbed at her toilet, for she -held a comb in one hand, and the hair on one side of her head stood out -loosely, while on the other side it was braided close to her head. She -called her husband, who proved to be the Patesville shoemaker's brother. -The hackman introduced the traveler, whose name he had learned on the -way out, collected his quarter, and drove away. - -Mr. Johnson, the shoemaker's brother, welcomed uncle Wellington to -Groveland, and listened with eager delight to the news of the old town, -from which he himself had run away many years before, and followed the -North Star to Groveland. He had changed his name from "Williams" to -"Johnson," on account of the Fugitive Slave Law, which, at the time of -his escape from bondage, had rendered it advisable for runaway slaves to -court obscurity. After the war he had retained the adopted name. Mrs. -Johnson prepared breakfast for her guest, who ate it with an appetite -sharpened by his journey. After breakfast he went to bed, and slept -until late in the afternoon. - -After supper Mr. Johnson took uncle Wellington to visit some of the -neighbors who had come from North Carolina before the war. They all -expressed much pleasure at meeting "Mr. Braboy," a title which at first -sounded a little odd to uncle Wellington. At home he had been -"Wellin'ton," "Brer Wellin'ton," or "uncle Wellin'ton;" it was a novel -experience to be called "Mister," and he set it down, with secret -satisfaction, as one of the first fruits of Northern liberty. - -"Would you lack ter look 'roun' de town a little?" asked Mr. Johnson at -breakfast next morning. "I ain' got no job dis mawnin', an' I kin show -you some er de sights." - -Uncle Wellington acquiesced in this arrangement, and they walked up to -the corner to the street-car line. In a few moments a car passed. Mr. -Johnson jumped on the moving car, and uncle Wellington followed his -example, at the risk of life or limb, as it was his first experience of -street cars. - -There was only one vacant seat in the car and that was between two white -women in the forward end. Mr. Johnson motioned to the seat, but -Wellington shrank from walking between those two rows of white people, -to say nothing of sitting between the two women, so he remained standing -in the rear part of the car. A moment later, as the car rounded a short -curve, he was pitched sidewise into the lap of a stout woman -magnificently attired in a ruffled blue calico gown. The lady colored -up, and uncle Wellington, as he struggled to his feet amid the laughter -of the passengers, was absolutely helpless with embarrassment, until the -conductor came up behind him and pushed him toward the vacant place. - -"Sit down, will you," he said; and before uncle Wellington could collect -himself, he was seated between the two white women. Everybody in the car -seemed to be looking at him. But he came to the conclusion, after he had -pulled himself together and reflected a few moments, that he would find -this method of locomotion pleasanter when he got used to it, and then -he could score one more glorious privilege gained by his change of -residence. - -They got off at the public square, in the heart of the city, where there -were flowers and statues, and fountains playing. Mr. Johnson pointed out -the court-house, the post-office, the jail, and other public buildings -fronting on the square. They visited the market near by, and from an -elevated point, looked down upon the extensive lumber yards and -factories that were the chief sources of the city's prosperity. Beyond -these they could see the fleet of ships that lined the coal and iron ore -docks of the harbor. Mr. Johnson, who was quite a fluent talker, -enlarged upon the wealth and prosperity of the city; and Wellington, who -had never before been in a town of more than three thousand inhabitants, -manifested sufficient interest and wonder to satisfy the most exacting -_cicerone_. They called at the office of a colored lawyer and member of -the legislature, formerly from North Carolina, who, scenting a new -constituent and a possible client, greeted the stranger warmly, and in -flowing speech pointed out the superior advantages of life at the North, -citing himself as an illustration of the possibilities of life in a -country really free. As they wended their way homeward to dinner uncle -Wellington, with quickened pulse and rising hopes, felt that this was -indeed the promised land, and that it must be flowing with milk and -honey. - -Uncle Wellington remained at the residence of Mr. Johnson for several -weeks before making any effort to find employment. He spent this period -in looking about the city. The most commonplace things possessed for him -the charm of novelty, and he had come prepared to admire. Shortly after -his arrival, he had offered to pay for his board, intimating at the same -time that he had plenty of money. Mr. Johnson declined to accept -anything from him for board, and expressed himself as being only too -proud to have Mr. Braboy remain in the house on the footing of an -honored guest, until he had settled himself. He lightened in some -degree, however, the burden of obligation under which a prolonged stay -on these terms would have placed his guest, by soliciting from the -latter occasional small loans, until uncle Wellington's roll of money -began to lose its plumpness, and with an empty pocket staring him in -the face, he felt the necessity of finding something to do. - -During his residence in the city he had met several times his first -acquaintance, Mr. Peterson, the hackman, who from time to time inquired -how he was getting along. On one of these occasions Wellington mentioned -his willingness to accept employment. As good luck would have it, Mr. -Peterson knew of a vacant situation. He had formerly been coachman for a -wealthy gentleman residing on Oakwood Avenue, but had resigned the -situation to go into business for himself. His place had been filled by -an Irishman, who had just been discharged for drunkenness, and the -gentleman that very day had sent word to Mr. Peterson, asking him if he -could recommend a competent and trustworthy coachman. - -"Does you know anything erbout hosses?" asked Mr. Peterson. - -"Yas, indeed, I does," said Wellington. "I wuz raise' 'mongs' hosses." - -"I tol' my ole boss I 'd look out fer a man, an' ef you reckon you kin -fill de 'quirements er de situation, I 'll take yo' roun' dere -ter-morrer mornin'. You wants ter put on yo' bes' clothes an' slick up, -fer dey 're partic'lar people. Ef you git de place I 'll expec' you ter -pay me fer de time I lose in 'tendin' ter yo' business, fer time is -money in dis country, an' folks don't do much fer nuthin'." - -Next morning Wellington blacked his shoes carefully, put on a clean -collar, and with the aid of Mrs. Johnson tied his cravat in a jaunty bow -which gave him quite a sprightly air and a much younger look than his -years warranted. Mr. Peterson called for him at eight o'clock. After -traversing several cross streets they turned into Oakwood Avenue and -walked along the finest part of it for about half a mile. The handsome -houses of this famous avenue, the stately trees, the wide-spreading -lawns, dotted with flower beds, fountains and statuary, made up a -picture so far surpassing anything in Wellington's experience as to fill -him with an almost oppressive sense of its beauty. - -"Hit looks lack hebben," he said softly. - -"It 's a pootty fine street," rejoined his companion, with a judicial -air, "but I don't like dem big lawns. It 's too much trouble ter keep -de grass down. One er dem lawns is big enough to pasture a couple er -cows." - -They went down a street running at right angles to the avenue, and -turned into the rear of the corner lot. A large building of pressed -brick, trimmed with stone, loomed up before them. - -"Do de gemman lib in dis house?" asked Wellington, gazing with awe at -the front of the building. - -"No, dat 's de barn," said Mr. Peterson with good-natured contempt; and -leading the way past a clump of shrubbery to the dwelling-house, he went -up the back steps and rang the door-bell. - -The ring was answered by a buxom Irishwoman, of a natural freshness of -complexion deepened to a fiery red by the heat of a kitchen range. -Wellington thought he had seen her before, but his mind had received so -many new impressions lately that it was a minute or two before he -recognized in her the lady whose lap he had involuntarily occupied for a -moment on his first day in Groveland. - -"Faith," she exclaimed as she admitted them, "an' it 's mighty glad I am -to see ye ag'in, Misther Payterson! An' how hev ye be'n, Misther -Payterson, sence I see ye lahst?" - -"Middlin' well, Mis' Flannigan, middlin' well, 'ceptin' a tech er de -rheumatiz. S'pose you be'n doin' well as usual?" - -"Oh yis, as well as a dacent woman could do wid a drunken baste about -the place like the lahst coachman. O Misther Payterson, it would make -yer heart bleed to see the way the spalpeen cut up a-Saturday! But -Misther Todd discharged 'im the same avenin', widout a characther, bad -'cess to 'im, an' we 've had no coachman sence at all, at all. An' it 's -sorry I am"---- - -The lady's flow of eloquence was interrupted at this point by the -appearance of Mr. Todd himself, who had been informed of the men's -arrival. He asked some questions in regard to Wellington's -qualifications and former experience, and in view of his recent arrival -in the city was willing to accept Mr. Peterson's recommendation instead -of a reference. He said a few words about the nature of the work, and -stated his willingness to pay Wellington the wages formerly allowed Mr. -Peterson, thirty dollars a month and board and lodging. - -This handsome offer was eagerly accepted, and it was agreed that -Wellington's term of service should begin immediately. Mr. Peterson, -being familiar with the work, and financially interested, conducted the -new coachman through the stables and showed him what he would have to -do. The silver-mounted harness, the variety of carriages, the names of -which he learned for the first time, the arrangements for feeding and -watering the horses,--these appointments of a rich man's stable -impressed Wellington very much, and he wondered that so much luxury -should be wasted on mere horses. The room assigned to him, in the second -story of the barn, was a finer apartment than he had ever slept in; and -the salary attached to the situation was greater than the combined -monthly earnings of himself and aunt Milly in their Southern home. -Surely, he thought, his lines had fallen in pleasant places. - -Under the stimulus of new surroundings Wellington applied himself -diligently to work, and, with the occasional advice of Mr. Peterson, -soon mastered the details of his employment. He found the female -servants, with whom he took his meals, very amiable ladies. The cook, -Mrs. Katie Flannigan, was a widow. Her husband, a sailor, had been lost -at sea. She was a woman of many words, and when she was not lamenting -the late Flannigan's loss,--according to her story he had been a model -of all the virtues,--she would turn the batteries of her tongue against -the former coachman. This gentleman, as Wellington gathered from -frequent remarks dropped by Mrs. Flannigan, had paid her attentions -clearly susceptible of a serious construction. These attentions had not -borne their legitimate fruit, and she was still a widow -unconsoled,--hence Mrs. Flannigan's tears. The housemaid was a plump, -good-natured German girl, with a pronounced German accent. The presence -on washdays of a Bohemian laundress, of recent importation, added -another to the variety of ways in which the English tongue was mutilated -in Mr. Todd's kitchen. Association with the white women drew out all the -native gallantry of the mulatto, and Wellington developed quite a -helpful turn. His politeness, his willingness to lend a hand in kitchen -or laundry, and the fact that he was the only male servant on the place, -combined to make him a prime favorite in the servants' quarters. - -It was the general opinion among Wellington's acquaintances that he was -a single man. He had come to the city alone, had never been heard to -speak of a wife, and to personal questions bearing upon the subject of -matrimony had always returned evasive answers. Though he had never -questioned the correctness of the lawyer's opinion in regard to his -slave marriage, his conscience had never been entirely at ease since his -departure from the South, and any positive denial of his married -condition would have stuck in his throat. The inference naturally drawn -from his reticence in regard to the past, coupled with his expressed -intention of settling permanently in Groveland, was that he belonged in -the ranks of the unmarried, and was therefore legitimate game for any -widow or old maid who could bring him down. As such game is bagged -easiest at short range, he received numerous invitations to tea-parties, -where he feasted on unlimited chicken and pound cake. He used to compare -these viands with the plain fare often served by aunt Milly, and the -result of the comparison was another item to the credit of the North -upon his mental ledger. Several of the colored ladies who smiled upon -him were blessed with good looks, and uncle Wellington, naturally of a -susceptible temperament, as people of lively imagination are apt to be, -would probably have fallen a victim to the charms of some woman of his -own race, had it not been for a strong counter-attraction in the person -of Mrs. Flannigan. The attentions of the lately discharged coachman had -lighted anew the smouldering fires of her widowed heart, and awakened -longings which still remained unsatisfied. She was thirty-five years -old, and felt the need of some one else to love. She was not a woman of -lofty ideals; with her a man was a man---- - - "For a' that an' a' that;" - -and, aside from the accident of color, uncle Wellington was as -personable a man as any of her acquaintance. Some people might have -objected to his complexion; but then, Mrs. Flannigan argued, he was at -least half white; and, this being the case, there was no good reason why -he should be regarded as black. - -Uncle Wellington was not slow to perceive Mrs. Flannigan's charms of -person, and appreciated to the full the skill that prepared the choice -tidbits reserved for his plate at dinner. The prospect of securing a -white wife had been one of the principal inducements offered by a life -at the North; but the awe of white people in which he had been reared -was still too strong to permit his taking any active steps toward the -object of his secret desire, had not the lady herself come to his -assistance with a little of the native coquetry of her race. - -"Ah, Misther Braboy," she said one evening when they sat at the supper -table alone,--it was the second girl's afternoon off, and she had not -come home to supper,--"it must be an awful lonesome life ye 've been -afther l'adin', as a single man, wid no one to cook fer ye, or look -afther ye." - -"It are a kind er lonesome life, Mis' Flannigan, an' dat 's a fac'. But -sence I had de privilege er eatin' yo' cookin' an' 'joyin' yo' society, -I ain' felt a bit lonesome." - -"Yer flatthrin' me, Misther Braboy. An' even if ye mane it"---- - -"I means eve'y word of it, Mis' Flannigan." - -"An' even if ye mane it, Misther Braboy, the time is liable to come when -things 'll be different; for service is uncertain, Misther Braboy. An' -then you 'll wish you had some nice, clean woman, 'at knowed how to cook -an' wash an' iron, ter look afther ye, an' make yer life comfortable." - -Uncle Wellington sighed, and looked at her languishingly. - -"It 'u'd all be well ernuff, Mis' Flannigan, ef I had n' met you; but I -don' know whar I 's ter fin' a colored lady w'at 'll begin ter suit me -after habbin' libbed in de same house wid you." - -"Colored lady, indade! Why, Misther Braboy, ye don't nade ter demane -yerself by marryin' a colored lady--not but they 're as good as anybody -else, so long as they behave themselves. There 's many a white woman -'u'd be glad ter git as fine a lookin' man as ye are." - -"Now _you 're_ flattrin' _me_, Mis' Flannigan," said Wellington. But he -felt a sudden and substantial increase in courage when she had spoken, -and it was with astonishing ease that he found himself saying:---- - -"Dey ain' but one lady, Mis' Flannigan, dat could injuce me ter want ter -change de lonesomeness er my singleness fer de 'sponsibilities er -matermony, an' I 'm feared she 'd say no ef I 'd ax her." - -"Ye 'd better ax her, Misther Braboy, an' not be wastin' time -a-wond'rin'. Do I know the lady?" - -"You knows 'er better 'n anybody else, Mis' Flannigan. _You_ is de only -lady I 'd be satisfied ter marry after knowin' you. Ef you casts me off -I 'll spen' de rest er my days in lonesomeness an' mis'ry." - -Mrs. Flannigan affected much surprise and embarrassment at this bold -declaration. - -"Oh, Misther Braboy," she said, covering him with a coy glance, "an' -it 's rale 'shamed I am to hev b'en talkin' ter ye ez I hev. It looks as -though I 'd b'en doin' the coortin'. I did n't drame that I 'd b'en able -ter draw yer affections to mesilf." - -"I 's loved you ever sence I fell in yo' lap on de street car de fus' -day I wuz in Groveland," he said, as he moved his chair up closer to -hers. - -One evening in the following week they went out after supper to the -residence of Rev. Caesar Williams, pastor of the colored Baptist church, -and, after the usual preliminaries, were pronounced man and wife. - - - -III - - -According to all his preconceived notions, this marriage ought to have -been the acme of uncle Wellington's felicity. But he soon found that it -was not without its drawbacks. On the following morning Mr. Todd was -informed of the marriage. He had no special objection to it, or interest -in it, except that he was opposed on principle to having husband and -wife in his employment at the same time. As a consequence, Mrs. Braboy, -whose place could be more easily filled than that of her husband, -received notice that her services would not be required after the end of -the month. Her husband was retained in his place as coachman. - -Upon the loss of her situation Mrs. Braboy decided to exercise the -married woman's prerogative of letting her husband support her. She -rented the upper floor of a small house in an Irish neighborhood. The -newly wedded pair furnished their rooms on the installment plan and -began housekeeping. - -There was one little circumstance, however, that interfered slightly -with their enjoyment of that perfect freedom from care which ought to -characterize a honeymoon. The people who owned the house and occupied -the lower floor had rented the upper part to Mrs. Braboy in person, it -never occurring to them that her husband could be other than a white -man. When it became known that he was colored, the landlord, Mr. Dennis -O'Flaherty, felt that he had been imposed upon, and, at the end of the -first month, served notice upon his tenants to leave the premises. When -Mrs. Braboy, with characteristic impetuosity, inquired the meaning of -this proceeding, she was informed by Mr. O'Flaherty that he did not care -to live in the same house "wid naygurs." Mrs. Braboy resented the -epithet with more warmth than dignity, and for a brief space of time the -air was green with choice specimens of brogue, the altercation barely -ceasing before it had reached the point of blows. - -It was quite clear that the Braboys could not longer live comfortably in -Mr. O'Flaherty's house, and they soon vacated the premises, first -letting the rent get a couple of weeks in arrears as a punishment to the -too fastidious landlord. They moved to a small house on Hackman Street, -a favorite locality with colored people. - -For a while, affairs ran smoothly in the new home. The colored people -seemed, at first, well enough disposed toward Mrs. Braboy, and she made -quite a large acquaintance among them. It was difficult, however, for -Mrs. Braboy to divest herself of the consciousness that she was white, -and therefore superior to her neighbors. Occasional words and acts by -which she manifested this feeling were noticed and resented by her -keen-eyed and sensitive colored neighbors. The result was a slight -coolness between them. That her few white neighbors did not visit her, -she naturally and no doubt correctly imputed to disapproval of her -matrimonial relations. - -Under these circumstances, Mrs. Braboy was left a good deal to her own -company. Owing to lack of opportunity in early life, she was not a woman -of many resources, either mental or moral. It is therefore not strange -that, in order to relieve her loneliness, she should occasionally have -recourse to a glass of beer, and, as the habit grew upon her, to still -stronger stimulants. Uncle Wellington himself was no tee-totaler, and -did not interpose any objection so long as she kept her potations within -reasonable limits, and was apparently none the worse for them; indeed, -he sometimes joined her in a glass. On one of these occasions he drank a -little too much, and, while driving the ladies of Mr. Todd's family to -the opera, ran against a lamp-post and overturned the carriage, to the -serious discomposure of the ladies' nerves, and at the cost of his -situation. - -A coachman discharged under such circumstances is not in the best -position for procuring employment at his calling, and uncle Wellington, -under the pressure of need, was obliged to seek some other means of -livelihood. At the suggestion of his friend Mr. Johnson, he bought a -whitewash brush, a peck of lime, a couple of pails, and a hand-cart, and -began work as a whitewasher. His first efforts were very crude, and for -a while he lost a customer in every person he worked for. He -nevertheless managed to pick up a living during the spring and summer -months, and to support his wife and himself in comparative comfort. - -The approach of winter put an end to the whitewashing season, and left -uncle Wellington dependent for support upon occasional jobs of unskilled -labor. The income derived from these was very uncertain, and Mrs. Braboy -was at length driven, by stress of circumstances, to the washtub, that -last refuge of honest, able-bodied poverty, in all countries where the -use of clothing is conventional. - -The last state of uncle Wellington was now worse than the first. Under -the soft firmness of aunt Milly's rule, he had not been required to do a -great deal of work, prompt and cheerful obedience being chiefly what was -expected of him. But matters were very different here. He had not only -to bring in the coal and water, but to rub the clothes and turn the -wringer, and to humiliate himself before the public by emptying the tubs -and hanging out the wash in full view of the neighbors; and he had to -deliver the clothes when laundered. - -At times Wellington found himself wondering if his second marriage had -been a wise one. Other circumstances combined to change in some degree -his once rose-colored conception of life at the North. He had believed -that all men were equal in this favored locality, but he discovered -more degrees of inequality than he had ever perceived at the South. A -colored man might be as good as a white man in theory, but neither of -them was of any special consequence without money, or talent, or -position. Uncle Wellington found a great many privileges open to him at -the North, but he had not been educated to the point where he could -appreciate them or take advantage of them; and the enjoyment of many of -them was expensive, and, for that reason alone, as far beyond his reach -as they had ever been. When he once began to admit even the possibility -of a mistake on his part, these considerations presented themselves to -his mind with increasing force. On occasions when Mrs. Braboy would -require of him some unusual physical exertion, or when too frequent -applications to the bottle had loosened her tongue, uncle Wellington's -mind would revert, with a remorseful twinge of conscience, to the _dolce -far niente_ of his Southern home; a film would come over his eyes and -brain, and, instead of the red-faced Irishwoman opposite him, he could -see the black but comely disk of aunt Milly's countenance bending over -the washtub; the elegant brogue of Mrs. Braboy would deliquesce into the -soft dialect of North Carolina; and he would only be aroused from this -blissful reverie by a wet shirt or a handful of suds thrown into his -face, with which gentle reminder his wife would recall his attention to -the duties of the moment. - -There came a time, one day in spring, when there was no longer any -question about it: uncle Wellington was desperately homesick. - -Liberty, equality, privileges,--all were but as dust in the balance when -weighed against his longing for old scenes and faces. It was the natural -reaction in the mind of a middle-aged man who had tried to force the -current of a sluggish existence into a new and radically different -channel. An active, industrious man, making the change in early life, -while there was time to spare for the waste of adaptation, might have -found in the new place more favorable conditions than in the old. In -Wellington age and temperament combined to prevent the success of the -experiment; the spirit of enterprise and ambition into which he had been -temporarily galvanized could no longer prevail against the inertia of -old habits of life and thought. - -One day when he had been sent to deliver clothes he performed his -errand quickly, and boarding a passing street car, paid one of his very -few five-cent pieces to ride down to the office of the Hon. Mr. Brown, -the colored lawyer whom he had visited when he first came to the city, -and who was well known to him by sight and reputation. - -"Mr. Brown," he said, "I ain' gitt'n' 'long very well wid my ole 'oman." - -"What 's the trouble?" asked the lawyer, with business-like curtness, -for he did not scent much of a fee. - -"Well, de main trouble is she doan treat me right. An' den she gits -drunk, an' wuss'n dat, she lays vi'lent han's on me. I kyars de marks er -dat 'oman on my face now." - -He showed the lawyer a long scratch on the neck. - -"Why don't you defend yourself?" - -"You don' know Mis' Braboy, suh; you don' know dat 'oman," he replied, -with a shake of the head. "Some er dese yer w'ite women is monst'us -strong in de wris'." - -"Well, Mr. Braboy, it 's what you might have expected when you turned -your back on your own people and married a white woman. You were n't -content with being a slave to the white folks once, but you must try it -again. Some people never know when they 've got enough. I don't see that -there 's any help for you; unless," he added suggestively, "you had a -good deal of money." - -'"Pears ter me I heared somebody say sence I be'n up heah, dat it wuz -'gin de law fer w'ite folks an' colored folks ter marry." - -"That was once the law, though it has always been a dead letter in -Groveland. In fact, it was the law when you got married, and until I -introduced a bill in the legislature last fall to repeal it. But even -that law did n't hit cases like yours. It was unlawful to make such a -marriage, but it was a good marriage when once made." - -"I don' jes' git dat th'oo my head," said Wellington, scratching that -member as though to make a hole for the idea to enter. - -"It 's quite plain, Mr. Braboy. It 's unlawful to kill a man, but when -he 's killed he 's just as dead as though the law permitted it. I 'm -afraid you have n't much of a case, but if you 'll go to work and get -twenty-five dollars together, I 'll see what I can do for you. We may be -able to pull a case through on the ground of extreme cruelty. I might -even start the case if you brought in ten dollars." - -Wellington went away sorrowfully. The laws of Ohio were very little more -satisfactory than those of North Carolina. And as for the ten -dollars,--the lawyer might as well have told him to bring in the moon, -or a deed for the Public Square. He felt very, very low as he hurried -back home to supper, which he would have to go without if he were not on -hand at the usual supper-time. - -But just when his spirits were lowest, and his outlook for the future -most hopeless, a measure of relief was at hand. He noticed, when he -reached home, that Mrs. Braboy was a little preoccupied, and did not -abuse him as vigorously as he expected after so long an absence. He also -perceived the smell of strange tobacco in the house, of a better grade -than he could afford to use. He thought perhaps some one had come in to -see about the washing; but he was too glad of a respite from Mrs. -Braboy's rhetoric to imperil it by indiscreet questions. - -Next morning she gave him fifty cents. - -"Braboy," she said, "ye 've be'n helpin' me nicely wid the washin', an' -I 'm going ter give ye a holiday. Ye can take yer hook an' line an' go -fishin' on the breakwater. I 'll fix ye a lunch, an' ye need n't come -back till night. An' there 's half a dollar; ye can buy yerself a pipe -er terbacky. But be careful an' don't waste it," she added, for fear she -was overdoing the thing. - -Uncle Wellington was overjoyed at this change of front on the part of -Mrs. Braboy; if she would make it permanent he did not see why they -might not live together very comfortably. - -The day passed pleasantly down on the breakwater. The weather was -agreeable, and the fish bit freely. Towards evening Wellington started -home with a bunch of fish that no angler need have been ashamed of. He -looked forward to a good warm supper; for even if something should have -happened during the day to alter his wife's mood for the worse, any -ordinary variation would be more than balanced by the substantial -addition of food to their larder. His mouth watered at the thought of -the finny beauties sputtering in the frying-pan. - -He noted, as he approached the house, that there was no smoke coming -from the chimney. This only disturbed him in connection with the matter -of supper. When he entered the gate he observed further that the -window-shades had been taken down. - -"'Spec' de ole 'oman's been house-cleanin'," he said to himself. "I -wonder she did n' make me stay an' he'p 'er." - -He went round to the rear of the house and tried the kitchen door. It -was locked. This was somewhat of a surprise, and disturbed still further -his expectations in regard to supper. When he had found the key and -opened the door, the gravity of his next discovery drove away for the -time being all thoughts of eating. - -The kitchen was empty. Stove, table, chairs, wash-tubs, pots and pans, -had vanished as if into thin air. - -"Fo' de Lawd's sake!" he murmured in open-mouthed astonishment. - -He passed into the other room,--they had only two,--which had served as -bedroom and sitting-room. It was as bare as the first, except that in -the middle of the floor were piled uncle Wellington's clothes. It was -not a large pile, and on the top of it lay a folded piece of yellow -wrapping-paper. - -Wellington stood for a moment as if petrified. Then he rubbed his eyes -and looked around him. - -"W'at do dis mean?" he said. "Is I er-dreamin', er does I see w'at I -'pears ter see?" He glanced down at the bunch of fish which he still -held. "Heah 's de fish; heah 's de house; heah I is; but whar 's de ole -'oman, an' whar 's de fu'niture? _I_ can't figure out w'at dis yer all -means." - -He picked up the piece of paper and unfolded it. It was written on one -side. Here was the obvious solution of the mystery,--that is, it would -have been obvious if he could have read it; but he could not, and so his -fancy continued to play upon the subject. Perhaps the house had been -robbed, or the furniture taken back by the seller, for it had not been -entirely paid for. - -Finally he went across the street and called to a boy in a neighbor's -yard. - -"Does you read writin', Johnnie?" - -"Yes, sir, I 'm in the seventh grade." - -"Read dis yer paper fuh me." - -The youngster took the note, and with much labor read the following:---- - - -"Mr. Braboy: - -"In lavin' ye so suddint I have ter say that my first husban' has turned -up unixpected, having been saved onbeknownst ter me from a wathry grave -an' all the money wasted I spint fer masses fer ter rist his sole an' I -wish I had it back I feel it my dooty ter go an' live wid 'im again. I -take the furnacher because I bought it yer close is yors I leave them -and wishin' yer the best of luck I remane oncet yer wife but now agin - -"Mrs. Katie Flannigan. - -"N.B. I 'm lavin town terday so it won't be no use lookin' fer me." - -On inquiry uncle Wellington learned from the boy that shortly after his -departure in the morning a white man had appeared on the scene, followed -a little later by a moving-van, into which the furniture had been loaded -and carried away. Mrs. Braboy, clad in her best clothes, had locked the -door, and gone away with the strange white man. - -The news was soon noised about the street. Wellington swapped his fish -for supper and a bed at a neighbor's, and during the evening learned -from several sources that the strange white man had been at his house -the afternoon of the day before. His neighbors intimated that they -thought Mrs. Braboy's departure a good riddance of bad rubbish, and -Wellington did not dispute the proposition. - -Thus ended the second chapter of Wellington's matrimonial experiences. -His wife's departure had been the one thing needful to convince him, -beyond a doubt, that he had been a great fool. Remorse and homesickness -forced him to the further conclusion that he had been knave as well as -fool, and had treated aunt Milly shamefully. He was not altogether a bad -old man, though very weak and erring, and his better nature now gained -the ascendency. Of course his disappointment had a great deal to do with -his remorse; most people do not perceive the hideousness of sin until -they begin to reap its consequences. Instead of the beautiful Northern -life he had dreamed of, he found himself stranded, penniless, in a -strange land, among people whose sympathy he had forfeited, with no one -to lean upon, and no refuge from the storms of life. His outlook was -very dark, and there sprang up within him a wild longing to get back to -North Carolina,--back to the little whitewashed cabin, shaded with china -and mulberry trees; back to the wood-pile and the garden; back to the -old cronies with whom he had swapped lies and tobacco for so many years. -He longed to kiss the rod of aunt Milly's domination. He had purchased -his liberty at too great a price. - -The next day he disappeared from Groveland. He had announced his -departure only to Mr. Johnson, who sent his love to his relations in -Patesville. - -It would be painful to record in detail the return journey of uncle -Wellington--Mr. Braboy no longer--to his native town; how many weary -miles he walked; how many times he risked his life on railroad tracks -and between freight cars; how he depended for sustenance on the grudging -hand of back-door charity. Nor would it be profitable or delicate to -mention any slight deviations from the path of rectitude, as judged by -conventional standards, to which he may occasionally have been driven by -a too insistent hunger; or to refer in the remotest degree to a -compulsory sojourn of thirty days in a city where he had no references, -and could show no visible means of support. True charity will let these -purely personal matters remain locked in the bosom of him who suffered -them. - - - -IV - - -Just fifteen months after the date when uncle Wellington had left North -Carolina, a weather-beaten figure entered the town of Patesville after -nightfall, following the railroad track from the north. Few would have -recognized in the hungry-looking old brown tramp, clad in dusty rags and -limping along with bare feet, the trim-looking middle-aged mulatto who -so few months before had taken the train from Patesville for the distant -North; so, if he had but known it, there was no necessity for him to -avoid the main streets and sneak around by unfrequented paths to reach -the old place on the other side of the town. He encountered nobody that -he knew, and soon the familiar shape of the little cabin rose before -him. It stood distinctly outlined against the sky, and the light -streaming from the half-opened shutters showed it to be occupied. As he -drew nearer, every familiar detail of the place appealed to his memory -and to his affections, and his heart went out to the old home and the -old wife. As he came nearer still, the odor of fried chicken floated out -upon the air and set his mouth to watering, and awakened unspeakable -longings in his half-starved stomach. - -At this moment, however, a fearful thought struck him; suppose the old -woman had taken legal advice and married again during his absence? Turn -about would have been only fair play. He opened the gate softly, and -with his heart in his mouth approached the window on tiptoe and looked -in. - -A cheerful fire was blazing on the hearth, in front of which sat the -familiar form of aunt Milly--and another, at the sight of whom uncle -Wellington's heart sank within him. He knew the other person very well; -he had sat there more than once before uncle Wellington went away. It -was the minister of the church to which his wife belonged. The -preacher's former visits, however, had signified nothing more than -pastoral courtesy, or appreciation of good eating. His presence now was -of serious portent; for Wellington recalled, with acute alarm, that the -elder's wife had died only a few weeks before his own departure for the -North. What was the occasion of his presence this evening? Was it merely -a pastoral call? or was he courting? or had aunt Milly taken legal -advice and married the elder? - -Wellington remembered a crack in the wall, at the back of the house, -through which he could see and hear, and quietly stationed himself -there. - -"Dat chicken smells mighty good, Sis' Milly," the elder was saying; "I -can't fer de life er me see why dat low-down husban' er yo'n could ever -run away f'm a cook like you. It 's one er de beatenis' things I ever -heared. How he could lib wid you an' not 'preciate you _I_ can't -understan', no indeed I can't." - -Aunt Milly sighed. "De trouble wid Wellin'ton wuz," she replied, "dat -he did n' know when he wuz well off. He wuz alluz wishin' fer change, er -studyin' 'bout somethin' new." - -"Ez fer me," responded the elder earnestly, "I likes things what has -be'n prove' an' tried an' has stood de tes', an' I can't 'magine how -anybody could spec' ter fin' a better housekeeper er cook dan you is, -Sis' Milly. I 'm a gittin' mighty lonesome sence my wife died. De Good -Book say it is not good fer man ter lib alone, en it 'pears ter me dat -you an' me mought git erlong tergether monst'us well." - -Wellington's heart stood still, while he listened with strained -attention. Aunt Milly sighed. - -"I ain't denyin', elder, but what I 've be'n kinder lonesome myse'f fer -quite a w'ile, an' I doan doubt dat w'at de Good Book say 'plies ter -women as well as ter men." - -"You kin be sho' it do," averred the elder, with professional -authoritativeness; "yas 'm, you kin be cert'n sho'." - -"But, of co'se," aunt Milly went on, "havin' los' my ole man de way I -did, it has tuk me some time fer ter git my feelin's straighten' out -like dey oughter be." - -"I kin 'magine yo' feelin's, Sis' Milly," chimed in the elder -sympathetically, "w'en you come home dat night an' foun' yo' chist broke -open, an' yo' money gone dat you had wukked an' slaved full f'm mawnin' -'tel night, year in an' year out, an' w'en you foun' dat no-'count -nigger gone wid his clo's an' you lef' all alone in de worl' ter scuffle -'long by yo'self." - -"Yas, elder," responded aunt Milly, "I wa'n't used right. An' den w'en I -heared 'bout his goin' ter de lawyer ter fin' out 'bout a defoce, an' -w'en I heared w'at de lawyer said 'bout my not bein' his wife 'less he -wanted me, it made me so mad, I made up my min' dat ef he ever put his -foot on my do'sill ag'in, I 'd shet de do' in his face an' tell 'im ter -go back whar he come f'm." - -To Wellington, on the outside, the cabin had never seemed so -comfortable, aunt Milly never so desirable, chicken never so appetizing, -as at this moment when they seemed slipping away from his grasp forever. - -"Yo' feelin's does you credit, Sis' Milly," said the elder, taking her -hand, which for a moment she did not withdraw. "An' de way fer you ter -close yo' do' tightes' ag'inst 'im is ter take me in his place. He ain' -got no claim on you no mo'. He tuk his ch'ice 'cordin' ter w'at de -lawyer tol' 'im, an' 'termine' dat he wa'n't yo' husban'. Ef he wa'n't -yo' husban', he had no right ter take yo' money, an' ef he comes back -here ag'in you kin hab 'im tuck up an' sent ter de penitenchy fer -stealin' it." - -Uncle Wellington's knees, already weak from fasting, trembled violently -beneath him. The worst that he had feared was now likely to happen. His -only hope of safety lay in flight, and yet the scene within so -fascinated him that he could not move a step. - -"It 'u'd serve him right," exclaimed aunt Milly indignantly, "ef he wuz -sent ter de penitenchy fer life! Dey ain't nuthin' too mean ter be done -ter 'im. What did I ever do dat he should use me like he did?" - -The recital of her wrongs had wrought upon aunt Milly's feelings so that -her voice broke, and she wiped her eyes with her apron. - -The elder looked serenely confident, and moved his chair nearer hers in -order the better to play the role of comforter. Wellington, on the -outside, felt so mean that the darkness of the night was scarcely -sufficient to hide him; it would be no more than right if the earth were -to open and swallow him up. - -"An' yet aftuh all, elder," said Milly with a sob, "though I knows you -is a better man, an' would treat me right, I wuz so use' ter dat ole -nigger, an' libbed wid 'im so long, dat ef he 'd open dat do' dis minute -an' walk in, I 'm feared I 'd be foolish ernuff an' weak ernuff to -forgive 'im an' take 'im back ag'in." - -With a bound, uncle Wellington was away from the crack in the wall. As -he ran round the house he passed the wood-pile and snatched up an armful -of pieces. A moment later he threw open the door. - -"Ole 'oman," he exclaimed, "here 's dat wood you tol' me ter fetch in! -Why, elder," he said to the preacher, who had started from his seat with -surprise, "w'at's yo' hurry? Won't you stay an' hab some supper wid us?" - - - - -The Bouquet - - -Mary Myrover's friends were somewhat surprised when she began to teach a -colored school. Miss Myrover's friends are mentioned here, because -nowhere more than in a Southern town is public opinion a force which -cannot be lightly contravened. Public opinion, however, did not oppose -Miss Myrover's teaching colored children; in fact, all the colored -public schools in town--and there were several--were taught by white -teachers, and had been so taught since the State had undertaken to -provide free public instruction for all children within its boundaries. -Previous to that time, there had been a Freedman's Bureau school and a -Presbyterian missionary school, but these had been withdrawn when the -need for them became less pressing. The colored people of the town had -been for some time agitating their right to teach their own schools, but -as yet the claim had not been conceded. - -The reason Miss Myrover's course created some surprise was not, -therefore, the fact that a Southern white woman should teach a colored -school; it lay in the fact that up to this time no woman of just her -quality had taken up such work. Most of the teachers of colored schools -were not of those who had constituted the aristocracy of the old regime; -they might be said rather to represent the new order of things, in which -labor was in time to become honorable, and men were, after a somewhat -longer time, to depend, for their place in society, upon themselves -rather than upon their ancestors. Mary Myrover belonged to one of the -proudest of the old families. Her ancestors had been people of -distinction in Virginia before a collateral branch of the main stock had -settled in North Carolina. Before the war, they had been able to live up -to their pedigree; but the war brought sad changes. Miss Myrover's -father--the Colonel Myrover who led a gallant but desperate charge at -Vicksburg--had fallen on the battlefield, and his tomb in the white -cemetery was a shrine for the family. On the Confederate Memorial Day, -no other grave was so profusely decorated with flowers, and, in the -oration pronounced, the name of Colonel Myrover was always used to -illustrate the highest type of patriotic devotion and self-sacrifice. -Miss Myrover's brother, too, had fallen in the conflict; but his bones -lay in some unknown trench, with those of a thousand others who had -fallen on the same field. Ay, more, her lover, who had hoped to come -home in the full tide of victory and claim his bride as a reward for -gallantry, had shared the fate of her father and brother. When the war -was over, the remnant of the family found itself involved in the common -ruin,--more deeply involved, indeed, than some others; for Colonel -Myrover had believed in the ultimate triumph of his cause, and had -invested most of his wealth in Confederate bonds, which were now only so -much waste paper. - -There had been a little left. Mrs. Myrover was thrifty, and had laid by -a few hundred dollars, which she kept in the house to meet unforeseen -contingencies. There remained, too, their home, with an ample garden and -a well-stocked orchard, besides a considerable tract of country land, -partly cleared, but productive of very little revenue. - -With their shrunken resources, Miss Myrover and her mother were able to -hold up their heads without embarrassment for some years after the close -of the war. But when things were adjusted to the changed conditions, and -the stream of life began to flow more vigorously in the new channels, -they saw themselves in danger of dropping behind, unless in some way -they could add to their meagre income. Miss Myrover looked over the -field of employment, never very wide for women in the South, and found -it occupied. The only available position she could be supposed prepared -to fill, and which she could take without distinct loss of caste, was -that of a teacher, and there was no vacancy except in one of the colored -schools. Even teaching was a doubtful experiment; it was not what she -would have preferred, but it was the best that could be done. "I don't -like it, Mary," said her mother. "It 's a long step from owning such -people to teaching them. What do they need with education? It will only -make them unfit for work." - -"They 're free now, mother, and perhaps they 'll work better if they 're -taught something. Besides, it 's only a business arrangement, and does n't -involve any closer contact than we have with our servants." - -"Well, I should say not!" sniffed the old lady. "Not one of them will -ever dare to presume on your position to take any liberties with us. -_I_ 'll see to that." - -Miss Myrover began her work as a teacher in the autumn, at the opening -of the school year. It was a novel experience at first. Though there had -always been negro servants in the house, and though on the streets -colored people were more numerous than those of her own race, and though -she was so familiar with their dialect that she might almost be said to -speak it, barring certain characteristic grammatical inaccuracies, she -had never been brought in personal contact with so many of them at once -as when she confronted the fifty or sixty faces--of colors ranging from -a white almost as clear as her own to the darkest livery of the -sun--which were gathered in the schoolroom on the morning when she began -her duties. Some of the inherited prejudice of her caste, too, made -itself felt, though she tried to repress any outward sign of it; and she -could perceive that the children were not altogether responsive; they, -likewise, were not entirely free from antagonism. The work was -unfamiliar to her. She was not physically very strong, and at the close -of the first day went home with a splitting headache. If she could have -resigned then and there without causing comment or annoyance to others, -she would have felt it a privilege to do so. But a night's rest banished -her headache and improved her spirits, and the next morning she went to -her work with renewed vigor, fortified by the experience of the first -day. - -Miss Myrover's second day was more satisfactory. She had some natural -talent for organization, though hitherto unaware of it, and in the -course of the day she got her classes formed and lessons under way. In a -week or two she began to classify her pupils in her own mind, as bright -or stupid, mischievous or well behaved, lazy or industrious, as the case -might be, and to regulate her discipline accordingly. That she had come -of a long line of ancestors who had exercised authority and mastership -was perhaps not without its effect upon her character, and enabled her -more readily to maintain good order in the school. When she was fairly -broken in, she found the work rather to her liking, and derived much -pleasure from such success as she achieved as a teacher. - -It was natural that she should be more attracted to some of her pupils -than to others. Perhaps her favorite--or, rather, the one she liked -best, for she was too fair and just for conscious favoritism--was Sophy -Tucker. Just the ground for the teacher's liking for Sophy might not at -first be apparent. The girl was far from the whitest of Miss Myrover's -pupils; in fact, she was one of the darker ones. She was not the -brightest in intellect, though she always tried to learn her lessons. -She was not the best dressed, for her mother was a poor widow, who went -out washing and scrubbing for a living. Perhaps the real tie between -them was Sophy's intense devotion to the teacher. It had manifested -itself almost from the first day of the school, in the rapt look of -admiration Miss Myrover always saw on the little black face turned -toward her. In it there was nothing of envy, nothing of regret; nothing -but worship for the beautiful white lady--she was not especially -handsome, but to Sophy her beauty was almost divine--who had come to -teach her. If Miss Myrover dropped a book, Sophy was the first to spring -and pick it up; if she wished a chair moved, Sophy seemed to anticipate -her wish; and so of all the numberless little services that can be -rendered in a schoolroom. - -Miss Myrover was fond of flowers, and liked to have them about her. The -children soon learned of this taste of hers, and kept the vases on her -desk filled with blossoms during their season. Sophy was perhaps the -most active in providing them. If she could not get garden flowers, she -would make excursions to the woods in the early morning, and bring in -great dew-laden bunches of bay, or jasmine, or some other fragrant -forest flower which she knew the teacher loved. - -"When I die, Sophy," Miss Myrover said to the child one day, "I want to -be covered with roses. And when they bury me, I 'm sure I shall rest -better if my grave is banked with flowers, and roses are planted at my -head and at my feet." - -Miss Myrover was at first amused at Sophy's devotion; but when she grew -more accustomed to it, she found it rather to her liking. It had a sort -of flavor of the old regime, and she felt, when she bestowed her kindly -notice upon her little black attendant, some of the feudal condescension -of the mistress toward the slave. She was kind to Sophy, and permitted -her to play the role she had assumed, which caused sometimes a little -jealousy among the other girls. Once she gave Sophy a yellow ribbon -which she took from her own hair. The child carried it home, and -cherished it as a priceless treasure, to be worn only on the greatest -occasions. - -Sophy had a rival in her attachment to the teacher, but the rivalry was -altogether friendly. Miss Myrover had a little dog, a white spaniel, -answering to the name of Prince. Prince was a dog of high degree, and -would have very little to do with the children of the school; he made an -exception, however, in the case of Sophy, whose devotion for his -mistress he seemed to comprehend. He was a clever dog, and could fetch -and carry, sit up on his haunches, extend his paw to shake hands, and -possessed several other canine accomplishments. He was very fond of his -mistress, and always, unless shut up at home, accompanied her to school, -where he spent most of his time lying under the teacher's desk, or, in -cold weather, by the stove, except when he would go out now and then and -chase an imaginary rabbit round the yard, presumably for exercise. - -At school Sophy and Prince vied with each other in their attentions to -Miss Myrover. But when school was over, Prince went away with her, and -Sophy stayed behind; for Miss Myrover was white and Sophy was black, -which they both understood perfectly well. Miss Myrover taught the -colored children, but she could not be seen with them in public. If they -occasionally met her on the street, they did not expect her to speak to -them, unless she happened to be alone and no other white person was in -sight. If any of the children felt slighted, she was not aware of it, -for she intended no slight; she had not been brought up to speak to -negroes on the street, and she could not act differently from other -people. And though she was a woman of sentiment and capable of deep -feeling, her training had been such that she hardly expected to find in -those of darker hue than herself the same susceptibility--varying in -degree, perhaps, but yet the same in kind--that gave to her own life the -alternations of feeling that made it most worth living. - -Once Miss Myrover wished to carry home a parcel of books. She had the -bundle in her hand when Sophy came up. - -"Lemme tote yo' bundle fer yer, Miss Ma'y?" she asked eagerly. "I 'm -gwine yo' way." - -"Thank you, Sophy," was the reply. "I 'll be glad if you will." - -Sophy followed the teacher at a respectful distance. When they reached -Miss Myrover's home, Sophy carried the bundle to the doorstep, where -Miss Myrover took it and thanked her. - -Mrs. Myrover came out on the piazza as Sophy was moving away. She said, -in the child's hearing, and perhaps with the intention that she should -hear: "Mary, I wish you would n't let those little darkeys follow you to -the house. I don't want them in the yard. I should think you 'd have -enough of them all day." - -"Very well, mother," replied her daughter. "I won't bring any more of -them. The child was only doing me a favor." - -Mrs. Myrover was an invalid, and opposition or irritation of any kind -brought on nervous paroxysms that made her miserable, and made life a -burden to the rest of the household, so that Mary seldom crossed her -whims. She did not bring Sophy to the house again, nor did Sophy again -offer her services as porter. - -One day in spring Sophy brought her teacher a bouquet of yellow roses. - -"Dey come off'n my own bush, Miss Ma'y," she said proudly, "an' I didn' -let nobody e'se pull 'em, but saved 'em all fer you, 'cause I know you -likes roses so much. I 'm gwine bring 'em all ter you as long as dey -las'." - -"Thank you, Sophy," said the teacher; "you are a very good girl." - -For another year Mary Myrover taught the colored school, and did -excellent service. The children made rapid progress under her tuition, -and learned to love her well; for they saw and appreciated, as well as -children could, her fidelity to a trust that she might have slighted, as -some others did, without much fear of criticism. Toward the end of her -second year she sickened, and after a brief illness died. - -Old Mrs. Myrover was inconsolable. She ascribed her daughter's death to -her labors as teacher of negro children. Just how the color of the -pupils had produced the fatal effects she did not stop to explain. But -she was too old, and had suffered too deeply from the war, in body and -mind and estate, ever to reconcile herself to the changed order of -things following the return of peace; and, with an unsound yet perfectly -explainable logic, she visited some of her displeasure upon those who -had profited most, though passively, by her losses. - -"I always feared something would happen to Mary," she said. "It seemed -unnatural for her to be wearing herself out teaching little negroes who -ought to have been working for her. But the world has hardly been a fit -place to live in since the war, and when I follow her, as I must before -long, I shall not be sorry to go." - -She gave strict orders that no colored people should be admitted to the -house. Some of her friends heard of this, and remonstrated. They knew -the teacher was loved by the pupils, and felt that sincere respect from -the humble would be a worthy tribute to the proudest. But Mrs. Myrover -was obdurate. - -"They had my daughter when she was alive," she said, "and they 've -killed her. But she 's mine now, and I won't have them come near her. I -don't want one of them at the funeral or anywhere around." - -For a month before Miss Myrover's death Sophy had been watching her -rosebush--the one that bore the yellow roses--for the first buds of -spring, and, when these appeared, had awaited impatiently their gradual -unfolding. But not until her teacher's death had they become full-blown -roses. When Miss Myrover died, Sophy determined to pluck the roses and -lay them on her coffin. Perhaps, she thought, they might even put them -in her hand or on her breast. For Sophy remembered Miss Myrover's thanks -and praise when she had brought her the yellow roses the spring before. - -On the morning of the day set for the funeral, Sophy washed her face -until it shone, combed and brushed her hair with painful -conscientiousness, put on her best frock, plucked her yellow roses, and, -tying them with the treasured ribbon her teacher had given her, set out -for Miss Myrover's home. - -She went round to the side gate--the house stood on a corner--and stole -up the path to the kitchen. A colored woman, whom she did not know, came -to the door. - -"Wat yer want, chile?" she inquired. - -"Kin I see Miss Ma'y?" asked Sophy timidly. - -"I don't know, honey. Ole Miss Myrover say she don't want no cullud -folks roun' de house endyoin' dis fun'al. I 'll look an' see if she 's -roun' de front room, whar de co'pse is. You sed down heah an' keep -still, an' ef she 's upstairs maybe I kin git yer in dere a minute. Ef I -can't, I kin put yo' bokay 'mongs' de res', whar she won't know nuthin' -erbout it." - -A moment after she had gone, there was a step in the hall, and old Mrs. -Myrover came into the kitchen. - -"Dinah!" she said in a peevish tone; "Dinah!" - -Receiving no answer, Mrs. Myrover peered around the kitchen, and caught -sight of Sophy. - -"What are you doing here?" she demanded. - -"I-I 'm-m waitin' ter see de cook, ma'am," stammered Sophy. - -"The cook is n't here now. I don't know where she is. Besides, my -daughter is to be buried to-day, and I won't have any one visiting the -servants until the funeral is over. Come back some other day, or see the -cook at her own home in the evening." - -She stood waiting for the child to go, and under the keen glance of her -eyes Sophy, feeling as though she had been caught in some disgraceful -act, hurried down the walk and out of the gate, with her bouquet in her -hand. - -"Dinah," said Mrs. Myrover, when the cook came back, "I don't want any -strange people admitted here to-day. The house will be full of our -friends, and we have no room for others." - -"Yas 'm," said the cook. She understood perfectly what her mistress -meant; and what the cook thought about her mistress was a matter of no -consequence. - -The funeral services were held at St. Paul's Episcopal Church, where the -Myrovers had always worshiped. Quite a number of Miss Myrover's pupils -went to the church to attend the services. The building was not a large -one. There was a small gallery at the rear, to which colored people were -admitted, if they chose to come, at ordinary services; and those who -wished to be present at the funeral supposed that the usual custom would -prevail. They were therefore surprised, when they went to the side -entrance, by which colored people gained access to the gallery stairs, -to be met by an usher who barred their passage. - -"I 'm sorry," he said, "but I have had orders to admit no one until the -friends of the family have all been seated. If you wish to wait until -the white people have all gone in, and there 's any room left, you may -be able to get into the back part of the gallery. Of course I can't tell -yet whether there 'll be any room or not." - -Now the statement of the usher was a very reasonable one; but, strange -to say, none of the colored people chose to remain except Sophy. She -still hoped to use her floral offering for its destined end, in some -way, though she did not know just how. She waited in the yard until the -church was filled with white people, and a number who could not gain -admittance were standing about the doors. Then she went round to the -side of the church, and, depositing her bouquet carefully on an old -mossy gravestone, climbed up on the projecting sill of a window near the -chancel. The window was of stained glass, of somewhat ancient make. The -church was old, had indeed been built in colonial times, and the stained -glass had been brought from England. The design of the window showed -Jesus blessing little children. Time had dealt gently with the window, -but just at the feet of the figure of Jesus a small triangular piece of -glass had been broken out. To this aperture Sophy applied her eyes, and -through it saw and heard what she could of the services within. - -Before the chancel, on trestles draped in black, stood the sombre casket -in which lay all that was mortal of her dear teacher. The top of the -casket was covered with flowers; and lying stretched out underneath it -she saw Miss Myrover's little white dog, Prince. He had followed the -body to the church, and, slipping in unnoticed among the mourners, had -taken his place, from which no one had the heart to remove him. - -The white-robed rector read the solemn service for the dead, and then -delivered a brief address, in which he dwelt upon the uncertainty of -life, and, to the believer, the certain blessedness of eternity. He -spoke of Miss Myrover's kindly spirit, and, as an illustration of her -love and self-sacrifice for others, referred to her labors as a teacher -of the poor ignorant negroes who had been placed in their midst by an -all-wise Providence, and whom it was their duty to guide and direct in -the station in which God had put them. Then the organ pealed, a prayer -was said, and the long cortege moved from the church to the cemetery, -about half a mile away, where the body was to be interred. - -When the services were over, Sophy sprang down from her perch, and, -taking her flowers, followed the procession. She did not walk with the -rest, but at a proper and respectful distance from the last mourner. No -one noticed the little black girl with the bunch of yellow flowers, or -thought of her as interested in the funeral. - -The cortege reached the cemetery and filed slowly through the gate; but -Sophy stood outside, looking at a small sign in white letters on a black -background:---- - -"_Notice_. This cemetery is for white people only. Others please keep -out." - -Sophy, thanks to Miss Myrover's painstaking instruction, could read this -sign very distinctly. In fact, she had often read it before. For Sophy -was a child who loved beauty, in a blind, groping sort of way, and had -sometimes stood by the fence of the cemetery and looked through at the -green mounds and shaded walks and blooming flowers within, and wished -that she might walk among them. She knew, too, that the little sign on -the gate, though so courteously worded, was no mere formality; for she -had heard how a colored man, who had wandered into the cemetery on a hot -night and fallen asleep on the flat top of a tomb, had been arrested as -a vagrant and fined five dollars, which he had worked out on the -streets, with a ball-and-chain attachment, at twenty-five cents a day. -Since that time the cemetery gate had been locked at night. - -So Sophy stayed outside, and looked through the fence. Her poor bouquet -had begun to droop by this time, and the yellow ribbon had lost some of -its freshness. Sophy could see the rector standing by the grave, the -mourners gathered round; she could faintly distinguish the solemn words -with which ashes were committed to ashes, and dust to dust. She heard -the hollow thud of the earth falling on the coffin; and she leaned -against the iron fence, sobbing softly, until the grave was filled and -rounded off, and the wreaths and other floral pieces were disposed upon -it. When the mourners began to move toward the gate, Sophy walked slowly -down the street, in a direction opposite to that taken by most of the -people who came out. - -When they had all gone away, and the sexton had come out and locked the -gate behind him, Sophy crept back. Her roses were faded now, and from -some of them the petals had fallen. She stood there irresolute, loath to -leave with her heart's desire unsatisfied, when, as her eyes sought -again the teacher's last resting-place, she saw lying beside the -new-made grave what looked like a small bundle of white wool. Sophy's -eyes lighted up with a sudden glow. - -"Prince! Here, Prince!" she called. - -The little dog rose, and trotted down to the gate. Sophy pushed the poor -bouquet between the iron bars. "Take that ter Miss Ma'y, Prince," she -said, "that 's a good doggie." - -The dog wagged his tail intelligently, took the bouquet carefully in his -mouth, carried it to his mistress's grave, and laid it among the other -flowers. The bunch of roses was so small that from where she stood Sophy -could see only a dash of yellow against the white background of the mass -of flowers. - -When Prince had performed his mission he turned his eyes toward Sophy -inquiringly, and when she gave him a nod of approval lay down and -resumed his watch by the graveside. Sophy looked at him a moment with a -feeling very much like envy, and then turned and moved slowly away. - - - - -The Web of Circumstance - - - -I - - -Within a low clapboarded hut, with an open front, a forge was glowing. -In front a blacksmith was shoeing a horse, a sleek, well-kept animal -with the signs of good blood and breeding. A young mulatto stood by and -handed the blacksmith such tools as he needed from time to time. A group -of negroes were sitting around, some in the shadow of the shop, one in -the full glare of the sunlight. A gentleman was seated in a buggy a few -yards away, in the shade of a spreading elm. The horse had loosened a -shoe, and Colonel Thornton, who was a lover of fine horseflesh, and -careful of it, had stopped at Ben Davis's blacksmith shop, as soon as he -discovered the loose shoe, to have it fastened on. - -"All right, Kunnel," the blacksmith called out. "Tom," he said, -addressing the young man, "he'p me hitch up." - -Colonel Thornton alighted from the buggy, looked at the shoe, signified -his approval of the job, and stood looking on while the blacksmith and -his assistant harnessed the horse to the buggy. - -"Dat 's a mighty fine whip yer got dere, Kunnel," said Ben, while the -young man was tightening the straps of the harness on the opposite side -of the horse. "I wush I had one like it. Where kin yer git dem whips?" - -"My brother brought me this from New York," said the Colonel. "You can't -buy them down here." - -The whip in question was a handsome one. The handle was wrapped with -interlacing threads of variegated colors, forming an elaborate pattern, -the lash being dark green. An octagonal ornament of glass was set in the -end of the handle. - -"It cert'n'y is fine," said Ben; "I wish I had one like it." He looked -at the whip longingly as Colonel Thornton drove away. - -"'Pears ter me Ben gittin' mighty blooded," said one of the bystanders, -"drivin' a hoss an' buggy, an' wantin' a whip like Colonel Thornton's." - -"What 's de reason I can't hab a hoss an' buggy an' a whip like Kunnel -Tho'nton's, ef I pay fer 'em?" asked Ben. "We colored folks never had no -chance ter git nothin' befo' de wah, but ef eve'y nigger in dis town had -a tuck keer er his money sence de wah, like I has, an' bought as much -lan' as I has, de niggers might 'a' got half de lan' by dis time," he -went on, giving a finishing blow to a horseshoe, and throwing it on the -ground to cool. - -Carried away by his own eloquence, he did not notice the approach of two -white men who came up the street from behind him. - -"An' ef you niggers," he continued, raking the coals together over a -fresh bar of iron, "would stop wastin' yo' money on 'scursions to put -money in w'ite folks' pockets, an' stop buildin' fine chu'ches, an' -buil' houses fer yo'se'ves, you 'd git along much faster." - -"You 're talkin' sense, Ben," said one of the white men. "Yo'r people -will never be respected till they 've got property." - -The conversation took another turn. The white men transacted their -business and went away. The whistle of a neighboring steam sawmill blew -a raucous blast for the hour of noon, and the loafers shuffled away in -different directions. - -"You kin go ter dinner, Tom," said the blacksmith. "An' stop at de gate -w'en yer go by my house, and tell Nancy I 'll be dere in 'bout twenty -minutes. I got ter finish dis yer plough p'int fus'." - -The young man walked away. One would have supposed, from the rapidity -with which he walked, that he was very hungry. A quarter of an hour -later the blacksmith dropped his hammer, pulled off his leather apron, -shut the front door of the shop, and went home to dinner. He came into -the house out of the fervent heat, and, throwing off his straw hat, -wiped his brow vigorously with a red cotton handkerchief. - -"Dem collards smells good," he said, sniffing the odor that came in -through the kitchen door, as his good-looking yellow wife opened it to -enter the room where he was. "I 've got a monst'us good appetite -ter-day. I feels good, too. I paid Majah Ransom de intrus' on de -mortgage dis mawnin' an' a hund'ed dollahs besides, an' I spec's ter hab -de balance ready by de fust of nex' Jiniwary; an' den we won't owe -nobody a cent. I tell yer dere ain' nothin' like propputy ter make a -pusson feel like a man. But w'at 's de matter wid yer, Nancy? Is sump'n' -skeered yer?" - -The woman did seem excited and ill at ease. There was a heaving of the -full bust, a quickened breathing, that betokened suppressed excitement. - -"I-I-jes' seen a rattlesnake out in de gyahden," she stammered. - -The blacksmith ran to the door. "Which way? Whar wuz he?" he cried. - -He heard a rustling in the bushes at one side of the garden, and the -sound of a breaking twig, and, seizing a hoe which stood by the door, he -sprang toward the point from which the sound came. - -"No, no," said the woman hurriedly, "it wuz over here," and she directed -her husband's attention to the other side of the garden. - -The blacksmith, with the uplifted hoe, its sharp blade gleaming in the -sunlight, peered cautiously among the collards and tomato plants, -listening all the while for the ominous rattle, but found nothing. - -"I reckon he 's got away," he said, as he set the hoe up again by the -door. "Whar 's de chillen?" he asked with some anxiety. "Is dey playin' -in de woods?" - -"No," answered his wife, "dey 've gone ter de spring." - -The spring was on the opposite side of the garden from that on which the -snake was said to have been seen, so the blacksmith sat down and fanned -himself with a palm-leaf fan until the dinner was served. - -"Yer ain't quite on time ter-day, Nancy," he said, glancing up at the -clock on the mantel, after the edge of his appetite had been taken off. -"Got ter make time ef yer wanter make money. Did n't Tom tell yer I 'd -be heah in twenty minutes?" - -"No," she said; "I seen him goin' pas'; he did n' say nothin'." - -"I dunno w'at 's de matter wid dat boy," mused the blacksmith over his -apple dumpling. "He 's gittin' mighty keerless heah lately; mus' hab -sump'n' on 'is min',--some gal, I reckon." - -The children had come in while he was speaking,--a slender, shapely -boy, yellow like his mother, a girl several years younger, dark like her -father: both bright-looking children and neatly dressed. - -"I seen cousin Tom down by de spring," said the little girl, as she -lifted off the pail of water that had been balanced on her head. "He -come out er de woods jest ez we wuz fillin' our buckets." - -"Yas," insisted the blacksmith, "he 's got some gal on his min'." - - - -II - - -The case of the State of North Carolina _vs_. Ben Davis was called. The -accused was led into court, and took his seat in the prisoner's dock. - -"Prisoner at the bar, stand up." - -The prisoner, pale and anxious, stood up. The clerk read the indictment, -in which it was charged that the defendant by force and arms had entered -the barn of one G.W. Thornton, and feloniously taken therefrom one whip, -of the value of fifteen dollars. - -"Are you guilty or not guilty?" asked the judge. - -"Not guilty, yo' Honah; not guilty, Jedge. I never tuck de whip." - -The State's attorney opened the case. He was young and zealous. Recently -elected to the office, this was his first batch of cases, and he was -anxious to make as good a record as possible. He had no doubt of the -prisoner's guilt. There had been a great deal of petty thieving in the -county, and several gentlemen had suggested to him the necessity for -greater severity in punishing it. The jury were all white men. The -prosecuting attorney stated the case. - -"We expect to show, gentlemen of the jury, the facts set out in the -indictment,--not altogether by direct proof, but by a chain of -circumstantial evidence which is stronger even than the testimony of -eyewitnesses. Men might lie, but circumstances cannot. We expect to show -that the defendant is a man of dangerous character, a surly, impudent -fellow; a man whose views of property are prejudicial to the welfare of -society, and who has been heard to assert that half the property which -is owned in this county has been stolen, and that, if justice were done, -the white people ought to divide up the land with the negroes; in other -words, a negro nihilist, a communist, a secret devotee of Tom Paine and -Voltaire, a pupil of the anarchist propaganda, which, if not checked by -the stern hand of the law, will fasten its insidious fangs on our social -system, and drag it down to ruin." - -"We object, may it please your Honor," said the defendant's attorney. -"The prosecutor should defer his argument until the testimony is in." - -"Confine yourself to the facts, Major," said the court mildly. - -The prisoner sat with half-open mouth, overwhelmed by this flood of -eloquence. He had never heard of Tom Paine or Voltaire. He had no -conception of what a nihilist or an anarchist might be, and could not -have told the difference between a propaganda and a potato. - -"We expect to show, may it please the court, that the prisoner had been -employed by Colonel Thornton to shoe a horse; that the horse was taken -to the prisoner's blacksmith shop by a servant of Colonel Thornton's; -that, this servant expressing a desire to go somewhere on an errand -before the horse had been shod, the prisoner volunteered to return the -horse to Colonel Thornton's stable; that he did so, and the following -morning the whip in question was missing; that, from circumstances, -suspicion naturally fell upon the prisoner, and a search was made of his -shop, where the whip was found secreted; that the prisoner denied that -the whip was there, but when confronted with the evidence of his crime, -showed by his confusion that he was guilty beyond a peradventure." - -The prisoner looked more anxious; so much eloquence could not but be -effective with the jury. - -The attorney for the defendant answered briefly, denying the defendant's -guilt, dwelling upon his previous good character for honesty, and -begging the jury not to pre-judge the case, but to remember that the law -is merciful, and that the benefit of the doubt should be given to the -prisoner. - -The prisoner glanced nervously at the jury. There was nothing in their -faces to indicate the effect upon them of the opening statements. It -seemed to the disinterested listeners as if the defendant's attorney -had little confidence in his client's cause. - -Colonel Thornton took the stand and testified to his ownership of the -whip, the place where it was kept, its value, and the fact that it had -disappeared. The whip was produced in court and identified by the -witness. He also testified to the conversation at the blacksmith shop in -the course of which the prisoner had expressed a desire to possess a -similar whip. The cross-examination was brief, and no attempt was made -to shake the Colonel's testimony. - -The next witness was the constable who had gone with a warrant to search -Ben's shop. He testified to the circumstances under which the whip was -found. - -"He wuz brazen as a mule at fust, an' wanted ter git mad about it. But -when we begun ter turn over that pile er truck in the cawner, he kinder -begun ter trimble; when the whip-handle stuck out, his eyes commenced -ter grow big, an' when we hauled the whip out he turned pale ez ashes, -an' begun to swear he did n' take the whip an' did n' know how it got -thar." - -"You may cross-examine," said the prosecuting attorney triumphantly. - -The prisoner felt the weight of the testimony, and glanced furtively at -the jury, and then appealingly at his lawyer. - -"You say that Ben denied that he had stolen the whip," said the -prisoner's attorney, on cross-examination. "Did it not occur to you that -what you took for brazen impudence might have been but the evidence of -conscious innocence?" - -The witness grinned incredulously, revealing thereby a few blackened -fragments of teeth. - -"I 've tuck up more 'n a hundred niggers fer stealin', Kurnel, an' I -never seed one yit that did n' 'ny it ter the las'." - -"Answer my question. Might not the witness's indignation have been a -manifestation of conscious innocence? Yes or no?" - -"Yes, it mought, an' the moon mought fall--but it don't." - -Further cross-examination did not weaken the witness's testimony, which -was very damaging, and every one in the court room felt instinctively -that a strong defense would be required to break down the State's case. - -"The State rests," said the prosecuting attorney, with a ring in his -voice which spoke of certain victory. - -There was a temporary lull in the proceedings, during which a bailiff -passed a pitcher of water and a glass along the line of jury-men. The -defense was then begun. - -The law in its wisdom did not permit the defendant to testify in his own -behalf. There were no witnesses to the facts, but several were called to -testify to Ben's good character. The colored witnesses made him out -possessed of all the virtues. One or two white men testified that they -had never known anything against his reputation for honesty. - -The defendant rested his case, and the State called its witnesses in -rebuttal. They were entirely on the point of character. One testified -that he had heard the prisoner say that, if the negroes had their -rights, they would own at least half the property. Another testified -that he had heard the defendant say that the negroes spent too much -money on churches, and that they cared a good deal more for God than God -had ever seemed to care for them. - -Ben Davis listened to this testimony with half-open mouth and staring -eyes. Now and then he would lean forward and speak perhaps a word, when -his attorney would shake a warning finger at him, and he would fall back -helplessly, as if abandoning himself to fate; but for a moment only, -when he would resume his puzzled look. - -The arguments followed. The prosecuting attorney briefly summed up the -evidence, and characterized it as almost a mathematical proof of the -prisoner's guilt. He reserved his eloquence for the closing argument. - -The defendant's attorney had a headache, and secretly believed his -client guilty. His address sounded more like an appeal for mercy than a -demand for justice. Then the State's attorney delivered the maiden -argument of his office, the speech that made his reputation as an -orator, and opened up to him a successful political career. - -The judge's charge to the jury was a plain, simple statement of the law -as applied to circumstantial evidence, and the mere statement of the law -foreshadowed the verdict. - -The eyes of the prisoner were glued to the jury-box, and he looked more -and more like a hunted animal. In the rear of the crowd of blacks who -filled the back part of the room, partly concealed by the projecting -angle of the fireplace, stood Tom, the blacksmith's assistant. If the -face is the mirror of the soul, then this man's soul, taken off its -guard in this moment of excitement, was full of lust and envy and all -evil passions. - -The jury filed out of their box, and into the jury room behind the -judge's stand. There was a moment of relaxation in the court room. The -lawyers fell into conversation across the table. The judge beckoned to -Colonel Thornton, who stepped forward, and they conversed together a few -moments. The prisoner was all eyes and ears in this moment of waiting, -and from an involuntary gesture on the part of the judge he divined that -they were speaking of him. It is a pity he could not hear what was said. - -"How do you feel about the case, Colonel?" asked the judge. - -"Let him off easy," replied Colonel Thornton. "He 's the best blacksmith -in the county." - -The business of the court seemed to have halted by tacit consent, in -anticipation of a quick verdict. The suspense did not last long. -Scarcely ten minutes had elapsed when there was a rap on the door, the -officer opened it, and the jury came out. - -The prisoner, his soul in his eyes, sought their faces, but met no -reassuring glance; they were all looking away from him. - -"Gentlemen of the jury, have you agreed upon a verdict?" - -"We have," responded the foreman. The clerk of the court stepped forward -and took the fateful slip from the foreman's hand. - -The clerk read the verdict: "We, the jury impaneled and sworn to try the -issues in this cause, do find the prisoner guilty as charged in the -indictment." - -There was a moment of breathless silence. Then a wild burst of grief -from the prisoner's wife, to which his two children, not understanding -it all, but vaguely conscious of some calamity, added their voices in -two long, discordant wails, which would have been ludicrous had they not -been heartrending. - -The face of the young man in the back of the room expressed relief and -badly concealed satisfaction. The prisoner fell back upon the seat from -which he had half risen in his anxiety, and his dark face assumed an -ashen hue. What he thought could only be surmised. Perhaps, knowing his -innocence, he had not believed conviction possible; perhaps, conscious -of guilt, he dreaded the punishment, the extent of which was optional -with the judge, within very wide limits. Only one other person present -knew whether or not he was guilty, and that other had slunk furtively -from the court room. - -Some of the spectators wondered why there should be so much ado about -convicting a negro of stealing a buggy-whip. They had forgotten their -own interest of the moment before. They did not realize out of what -trifles grow the tragedies of life. - -It was four o'clock in the afternoon, the hour for adjournment, when the -verdict was returned. The judge nodded to the bailiff. - -"Oyez, oyez! this court is now adjourned until ten o'clock to-morrow -morning," cried the bailiff in a singsong voice. The judge left the -bench, the jury filed out of the box, and a buzz of conversation filled -the court room. - -"Brace up, Ben, brace up, my boy," said the defendant's lawyer, half -apologetically. "I did what I could for you, but you can never tell what -a jury will do. You won't be sentenced till to-morrow morning. In the -meantime I 'll speak to the judge and try to get him to be easy with -you. He may let you off with a light fine." - -The negro pulled himself together, and by an effort listened. - -"Thanky, Majah," was all he said. He seemed to be thinking of something -far away. - -He barely spoke to his wife when she frantically threw herself on him, -and clung to his neck, as he passed through the side room on his way to -jail. He kissed his children mechanically, and did not reply to the -soothing remarks made by the jailer. - - - -III - - -There was a good deal of excitement in town the next morning. Two white -men stood by the post office talking. - -"Did yer hear the news?" - -"No, what wuz it?" - -"Ben Davis tried ter break jail las' night." - -"You don't say so! What a fool! He ain't be'n sentenced yit." - -"Well, now," said the other, "I 've knowed Ben a long time, an' he wuz a -right good nigger. I kinder found it hard ter b'lieve he did steal that -whip. But what 's a man's feelin's ag'in' the proof?" - -They spoke on awhile, using the past tense as if they were speaking of a -dead man. - -"Ef I know Jedge Hart, Ben 'll wish he had slep' las' night, 'stidder -tryin' ter break out'n jail." - -At ten o'clock the prisoner was brought into court. He walked with -shambling gait, bent at the shoulders, hopelessly, with downcast eyes, -and took his seat with several other prisoners who had been brought in -for sentence. His wife, accompanied by the children, waited behind him, -and a number of his friends were gathered in the court room. - -The first prisoner sentenced was a young white man, convicted several -days before of manslaughter. The deed was done in the heat of passion, -under circumstances of great provocation, during a quarrel about a -woman. The prisoner was admonished of the sanctity of human life, and -sentenced to one year in the penitentiary. - -The next case was that of a young clerk, eighteen or nineteen years of -age, who had committed a forgery in order to procure the means to buy -lottery tickets. He was well connected, and the case would not have been -prosecuted if the judge had not refused to allow it to be nolled, and, -once brought to trial, a conviction could not have been avoided. - -"You are a young man," said the judge gravely, yet not unkindly, "and -your life is yet before you. I regret that you should have been led into -evil courses by the lust for speculation, so dangerous in its -tendencies, so fruitful of crime and misery. I am led to believe that -you are sincerely penitent, and that, after such punishment as the law -cannot remit without bringing itself into contempt, you will see the -error of your ways and follow the strict path of rectitude. Your fault -has entailed distress not only upon yourself, but upon your relatives, -people of good name and good family, who suffer as keenly from your -disgrace as you yourself. Partly out of consideration for their -feelings, and partly because I feel that, under the circumstances, the -law will be satisfied by the penalty I shall inflict, I sentence you to -imprisonment in the county jail for six months, and a fine of one -hundred dollars and the costs of this action." - -"The jedge talks well, don't he?" whispered one spectator to another. - -"Yes, and kinder likes ter hear hisse'f talk," answered the other. - -"Ben Davis, stand up," ordered the judge. - -He might have said "Ben Davis, wake up," for the jailer had to touch the -prisoner on the shoulder to rouse him from his stupor. He stood up, and -something of the hunted look came again into his eyes, which shifted -under the stern glance of the judge. - -"Ben Davis, you have been convicted of larceny, after a fair trial -before twelve good men of this county. Under the testimony, there can be -no doubt of your guilt. The case is an aggravated one. You are not an -ignorant, shiftless fellow, but a man of more than ordinary intelligence -among your people, and one who ought to know better. You have not even -the poor excuse of having stolen to satisfy hunger or a physical -appetite. Your conduct is wholly without excuse, and I can only regard -your crime as the result of a tendency to offenses of this nature, a -tendency which is only too common among your people; a tendency which is -a menace to civilization, a menace to society itself, for society rests -upon the sacred right of property. Your opinions, too, have been given a -wrong turn; you have been heard to utter sentiments which, if -disseminated among an ignorant people, would breed discontent, and give -rise to strained relations between them and their best friends, their -old masters, who understand their real nature and their real needs, and -to whose justice and enlightened guidance they can safely trust. Have -you anything to say why sentence should not be passed upon you?" - -"Nothin', suh, cep'n dat I did n' take de whip." - -"The law, largely, I think, in view of the peculiar circumstances of -your unfortunate race, has vested a large discretion in courts as to -the extent of the punishment for offenses of this kind. Taking your case -as a whole, I am convinced that it is one which, for the sake of the -example, deserves a severe punishment. Nevertheless, I do not feel -disposed to give you the full extent of the law, which would be twenty -years in the penitentiary,[1] but, considering the fact that you have a -family, and have heretofore borne a good reputation in the community, I -will impose upon you the light sentence of imprisonment for five years -in the penitentiary at hard labor. And I hope that this will be a -warning to you and others who may be similarly disposed, and that after -your sentence has expired you may lead the life of a law-abiding -citizen." - -[Footnote 1: There are no degrees of larceny in North Carolina, and the -penalty for any offense lies in the discretion of the judge, to the -limit of twenty years.] - -"O Ben! O my husband! O God!" moaned the poor wife, and tried to press -forward to her husband's side. - -"Keep back, Nancy, keep back," said the jailer. "You can see him in -jail." - -Several people were looking at Ben's face. There was one flash of -despair, and then nothing but a stony blank, behind which he masked his -real feelings, whatever they were. - -Human character is a compound of tendencies inherited and habits -acquired. In the anxiety, the fear of disgrace, spoke the nineteenth -century civilization with which Ben Davis had been more or less closely -in touch during twenty years of slavery and fifteen years of freedom. In -the stolidity with which he received this sentence for a crime which he -had not committed, spoke who knows what trait of inherited savagery? For -stoicism is a savage virtue. - - - -IV - - -One morning in June, five years later, a black man limped slowly along -the old Lumberton plank road; a tall man, whose bowed shoulders made him -seem shorter than he was, and a face from which it was difficult to -guess his years, for in it the wrinkles and flabbiness of age were found -side by side with firm white teeth, and eyes not sunken,--eyes -bloodshot, and burning with something, either fever or passion. Though -he limped painfully with one foot, the other hit the ground -impatiently, like the good horse in a poorly matched team. As he walked -along, he was talking to himself:---- - -"I wonder what dey 'll do w'en I git back? I wonder how Nancy 's -s'ported the fambly all dese years? Tuck in washin', I s'ppose,--she was -a monst'us good washer an' ironer. I wonder ef de chillun 'll be too -proud ter reco'nize deir daddy come back f'um de penetenchy? I 'spec' -Billy must be a big boy by dis time. He won' b'lieve his daddy ever -stole anything. I 'm gwine ter slip roun' an' s'prise 'em." - -Five minutes later a face peered cautiously into the window of what had -once been Ben Davis's cabin,--at first an eager face, its coarseness lit -up with the fire of hope; a moment later a puzzled face; then an -anxious, fearful face as the man stepped away from the window and rapped -at the door. - -"Is Mis' Davis home?" he asked of the woman who opened the door. - -"Mis' Davis don' live here. You er mistook in de house." - -"Whose house is dis?" - -"It b'longs ter my husban', Mr. Smith,--Primus Smith." - -"'Scuse me, but I knowed de house some years ago w'en I wuz here oncet -on a visit, an' it b'longed ter a man name' Ben Davis." - -"Ben Davis--Ben Davis?--oh yes, I 'member now. Dat wuz de gen'man w'at -wuz sent ter de penitenchy fer sump'n er nuther,--sheep-stealin', I -b'lieve. Primus," she called, "w'at wuz Ben Davis, w'at useter own dis -yer house, sent ter de penitenchy fer?" - -"Hoss-stealin'," came back the reply in sleepy accents, from the man -seated by the fireplace. - -The traveler went on to the next house. A neat-looking yellow woman came -to the door when he rattled the gate, and stood looking suspiciously at -him. - -"W'at you want?" she asked. - -"Please, ma'am, will you tell me whether a man name' Ben Davis useter -live in dis neighborhood?" - -"Useter live in de nex' house; wuz sent ter de penitenchy fer killin' a -man." - -"Kin yer tell me w'at went wid Mis' Davis?" - -"Umph! I 's a 'spectable 'oman, I is, en don' mix wid dem kind er -people. She wuz 'n' no better 'n her husban'. She tuk up wid a man dat -useter wuk fer Ben, an' dey 're livin' down by de ole wagon-ya'd, where -no 'spectable 'oman ever puts her foot." - -"An' de chillen?" - -"De gal 's dead. Wuz 'n' no better 'n she oughter be'n. She fell in de -crick an' got drown'; some folks say she wuz 'n' sober w'en it happen'. -De boy tuck atter his pappy. He wuz 'rested las' week fer shootin' a -w'ite man, an' wuz lynch' de same night. Dey wa'n't none of 'em no -'count after deir pappy went ter de penitenchy." - -"What went wid de proputty?" - -"Hit wuz sol' fer de mortgage, er de taxes, er de lawyer, er sump'n,--I -don' know w'at. A w'ite man got it." - -The man with the bundle went on until he came to a creek that crossed -the road. He descended the sloping bank, and, sitting on a stone in the -shade of a water-oak, took off his coarse brogans, unwound the rags that -served him in lieu of stockings, and laved in the cool water the feet -that were chafed with many a weary mile of travel. - -After five years of unrequited toil, and unspeakable hardship in convict -camps,--five years of slaving by the side of human brutes, and of -nightly herding with them in vermin-haunted huts,--Ben Davis had become -like them. For a while he had received occasional letters from home, but -in the shifting life of the convict camp they had long since ceased to -reach him, if indeed they had been written. For a year or two, the -consciousness of his innocence had helped to make him resist the -debasing influences that surrounded him. The hope of shortening his -sentence by good behavior, too, had worked a similar end. But the -transfer from one contractor to another, each interested in keeping as -long as possible a good worker, had speedily dissipated any such hope. -When hope took flight, its place was not long vacant. Despair followed, -and black hatred of all mankind, hatred especially of the man to whom he -attributed all his misfortunes. One who is suffering unjustly is not apt -to indulge in fine abstractions, nor to balance probabilities. By long -brooding over his wrongs, his mind became, if not unsettled, at least -warped, and he imagined that Colonel Thornton had deliberately set a -trap into which he had fallen. The Colonel, he convinced himself, had -disapproved of his prosperity, and had schemed to destroy it. He -reasoned himself into the belief that he represented in his person the -accumulated wrongs of a whole race, and Colonel Thornton the race who -had oppressed them. A burning desire for revenge sprang up in him, and -he nursed it until his sentence expired and he was set at liberty. What -he had learned since reaching home had changed his desire into a deadly -purpose. - -When he had again bandaged his feet and slipped them into his shoes, he -looked around him, and selected a stout sapling from among the -undergrowth that covered the bank of the stream. Taking from his pocket -a huge clasp-knife, he cut off the length of an ordinary walking stick -and trimmed it. The result was an ugly-looking bludgeon, a dangerous -weapon when in the grasp of a strong man. - -With the stick in his hand, he went on down the road until he approached -a large white house standing some distance back from the street. The -grounds were filled with a profusion of shrubbery. The negro entered the -gate and secreted himself in the bushes, at a point where he could hear -any one that might approach. - -It was near midday, and he had not eaten. He had walked all night, and -had not slept. The hope of meeting his loved ones had been meat and -drink and rest for him. But as he sat waiting, outraged nature asserted -itself, and he fell asleep, with his head on the rising root of a tree, -and his face upturned. - -And as he slept, he dreamed of his childhood; of an old black mammy -taking care of him in the daytime, and of a younger face, with soft -eyes, which bent over him sometimes at night, and a pair of arms which -clasped him closely. He dreamed of his past,--of his young wife, of his -bright children. Somehow his dreams all ran to pleasant themes for a -while. - -Then they changed again. He dreamed that he was in the convict camp, -and, by an easy transition, that he was in hell, consumed with hunger, -burning with thirst. Suddenly the grinning devil who stood over him with -a barbed whip faded away, and a little white angel came and handed him a -drink of water. As he raised it to his lips the glass slipped, and he -struggled back to consciousness. - -"Poo' man! Poo' man sick, an' sleepy. Dolly b'ing Powers to cover poo' -man up. Poo' man mus' be hungry. Wen Dolly get him covered up, she go -b'ing poo' man some cake." - -A sweet little child, as beautiful as a cherub escaped from Paradise, -was standing over him. At first he scarcely comprehended the words the -baby babbled out. But as they became clear to him, a novel feeling crept -slowly over his heart. It had been so long since he had heard anything -but curses and stern words of command, or the ribald songs of obscene -merriment, that the clear tones of this voice from heaven cooled his -calloused heart as the water of the brook had soothed his blistered -feet. It was so strange, so unwonted a thing, that he lay there with -half-closed eyes while the child brought leaves and flowers and laid -them on his face and on his breast, and arranged them with little -caressing taps. - -She moved away, and plucked a flower. And then she spied another farther -on, and then another, and, as she gathered them, kept increasing the -distance between herself and the man lying there, until she was several -rods away. - -Ben Davis watched her through eyes over which had come an unfamiliar -softness. Under the lingering spell of his dream, her golden hair, which -fell in rippling curls, seemed like a halo of purity and innocence and -peace, irradiating the atmosphere around her. It is true the thought -occurred to Ben, vaguely, that through harm to her he might inflict the -greatest punishment upon her father; but the idea came like a dark shape -that faded away and vanished into nothingness as soon as it came within -the nimbus that surrounded the child's person. - -The child was moving on to pluck still another flower, when there came a -sound of hoof-beats, and Ben was aware that a horseman, visible through -the shrubbery, was coming along the curved path that led from the gate -to the house. It must be the man he was waiting for, and now was the -time to wreak his vengeance. He sprang to his feet, grasped his club, -and stood for a moment irresolute. But either the instinct of the -convict, beaten, driven, and debased, or the influence of the child, -which was still strong upon him, impelled him, after the first momentary -pause, to flee as though seeking safety. - -His flight led him toward the little girl, whom he must pass in order -to make his escape, and as Colonel Thornton turned the corner of the -path he saw a desperate-looking negro, clad in filthy rags, and carrying -in his hand a murderous bludgeon, running toward the child, who, -startled by the sound of footsteps, had turned and was looking toward -the approaching man with wondering eyes. A sickening fear came over the -father's heart, and drawing the ever-ready revolver, which according to -the Southern custom he carried always upon his person, he fired with -unerring aim. Ben Davis ran a few yards farther, faltered, threw out his -hands, and fell dead at the child's feet. - - * * * * * - -Some time, we are told, when the cycle of years has rolled around, there -is to be another golden age, when all men will dwell together in love -and harmony, and when peace and righteousness shall prevail for a -thousand years. God speed the day, and let not the shining thread of -hope become so enmeshed in the web of circumstance that we lose sight of -it; but give us here and there, and now and then, some little foretaste -of this golden age, that we may the more patiently and hopefully await -its coming! - - - - -APPENDIX - -Three essays on the Color Line: - -What is a White Man? (1889) - -The Future American (1900) - -The Disfranchisement of the Negro (1903) - - - - -What is a White Man? - - -The fiat having gone forth from the wise men of the South that the -"all-pervading, all-conquering Anglo-Saxon race" must continue forever -to exercise exclusive control and direction of the government of this -so-called Republic, it becomes important to every citizen who values his -birthright to know who are included in this grandiloquent term. It is of -course perfectly obvious that the writer or speaker who used this -expression--perhaps Mr. Grady of Georgia--did not say what he meant. It -is not probable that he meant to exclude from full citizenship the Celts -and Teutons and Gauls and Slavs who make up so large a proportion of our -population; he hardly meant to exclude the Jews, for even the most -ardent fire-eater would hardly venture to advocate the disfranchisement -of the thrifty race whose mortgages cover so large a portion of Southern -soil. What the eloquent gentleman really meant by this high-sounding -phrase was simply the white race; and the substance of the argument of -that school of Southern writers to which he belongs, is simply that for -the good of the country the Negro should have no voice in directing the -government or public policy of the Southern States or of the nation. - -But it is evident that where the intermingling of the races has made -such progress as it has in this country, the line which separates the -races must in many instances have been practically obliterated. And -there has arisen in the United States a very large class of the -population who are certainly not Negroes in an ethnological sense, and -whose children will be no nearer Negroes than themselves. In view, -therefore, of the very positive ground taken by the white leaders of the -South, where most of these people reside, it becomes in the highest -degree important to them to know what race they belong to. It ought to -be also a matter of serious concern to the Southern white people; for if -their zeal for good government is so great that they contemplate the -practical overthrow of the Constitution and laws of the United States to -secure it, they ought at least to be sure that no man entitled to it by -their own argument, is robbed of a right so precious as that of free -citizenship; the "all-pervading, all conquering Anglo-Saxon" ought to -set as high a value on American citizenship as the all-conquering Roman -placed upon the franchise of his State two thousand years ago. This -discussion would of course be of little interest to the genuine Negro, -who is entirely outside of the charmed circle, and must content himself -with the acquisition of wealth, the pursuit of learning and such other -privileges as his "best friends" may find it consistent with the welfare -of the nation to allow him; but to every other good citizen the inquiry -ought to be a momentous one. What is a white man? - -In spite of the virulence and universality of race prejudice in the -United States, the human intellect long ago revolted at the manifest -absurdity of classifying men fifteen-sixteenths white as black men; and -hence there grew up a number of laws in different states of the Union -defining the limit which separated the white and colored races, which -was, when these laws took their rise and is now to a large extent, the -line which separated freedom and opportunity from slavery or hopeless -degradation. Some of these laws are of legislative origin; others are -judge-made laws, brought out by the exigencies of special cases which -came before the courts for determination. Some day they will, perhaps, -become mere curiosities of jurisprudence; the "black laws" will be -bracketed with the "blue laws," and will be at best but landmarks by -which to measure the progress of the nation. But to-day these laws are -in active operation, and they are, therefore, worthy of attention; for -every good citizen ought to know the law, and, if possible, to respect -it; and if not worthy of respect, it should be changed by the authority -which enacted it. Whether any of the laws referred to here have been in -any manner changed by very recent legislation the writer cannot say, but -they are certainly embodied in the latest editions of the revised -statutes of the states referred to. - -The colored people were divided, in most of the Southern States, into -two classes, designated by law as Negroes and mulattoes respectively. -The term Negro was used in its ethnological sense, and needed no -definition; but the term "mulatto" was held by legislative enactment to -embrace all persons of color not Negroes. The words "quadroon" and -"mestizo" are employed in some of the law books, tho not defined; but -the term "octoroon," as indicating a person having one-eighth of Negro -blood, is not used at all, so far as the writer has been able to -observe. - -The states vary slightly in regard to what constitutes a mulatto or -person of color, and as to what proportion of white blood should be -sufficient to remove the disability of color. As a general rule, less -than one-fourth of Negro blood left the individual white--in theory; -race questions being, however, regulated very differently in practice. -In Missouri, by the code of 1855, still in operation, so far as not -inconsistent with the Federal Constitution and laws, "any person other -than a Negro, any one of whose grandmothers or grandfathers is or shall -have been a Negro, tho all of his or her progenitors except those -descended from the Negro may have been white persons, shall be deemed a -mulatto." Thus the color-line is drawn at one-fourth of Negro blood, and -persons with only one-eighth are white. - -By the Mississippi code of 1880, the color-line is drawn at one-fourth -of Negro blood, all persons having less being theoretically white. - -Under the _code noir_ of Louisiana, the descendant of a white and a -quadroon is white, thus drawing the line at one-eighth of Negro blood. -The code of 1876 abolished all distinctions of color; as to whether they -have been re-enacted since the Republican Party went out of power in -that state the writer is not informed. - -Jumping to the extreme North, persons are white within the meaning of -the Constitution of Michigan who have less than one-fourth of Negro -blood. - -In Ohio the rule, as established by numerous decisions of the Supreme -Court, was that a preponderance of white blood constituted a person a -white man in the eye of the law, and entitled him to the exercise of all -the civil rights of a white man. By a retrogressive step the color-line -was extended in 1861 in the case of marriage, which by statute was -forbidden between a person of pure white blood and one having a visible -admixture of African blood. But by act of legislature, passed in the -spring of 1887, all laws establishing or permitting distinctions of -color were repealed. In many parts of the state these laws were always -ignored, and they would doubtless have been repealed long ago but for -the sentiment of the southern counties, separated only by the width of -the Ohio River from a former slave-holding state. There was a bill -introduced in the legislature during the last session to re-enact the -"black laws," but it was hopelessly defeated; the member who introduced -it evidently mistook his latitude; he ought to be a member of the -Georgia legislature. - -But the state which, for several reasons, one might expect to have the -strictest laws in regard to the relations of the races, has really the -loosest. Two extracts from decisions of the Supreme Court of South -Carolina will make clear the law of that state in regard to the color -line. - - The definition of the term mulatto, as understood in this state, - seems to be vague, signifying generally a person of mixed white - or European and Negro parentage, in whatever proportions the blood - of the two races may be mingled in the individual. But it is not - invariably applicable to every admixture of African blood with the - European, nor is one having all the features of a white to be ranked - with the degraded class designated by the laws of this state as - persons of color, because of some remote taint of the Negro race. - The line of distinction, however, is not ascertained by any rule of - law.... Juries would probably be justified in holding a person to - be white in whom the admixture of African blood did not exceed the - proportion of one-eighth. But it is in all cases a question for the - jury, to be determined by them upon the evidence of features and - complexion afforded by inspection, the evidence of reputation as - to parentage, and the evidence of the rank and station in society - occupied by the party. The only rule which can be laid down by the - courts is that where there is a distinct and visible admixture of - Negro blood, the individual is to be denominated a mulatto or person - of color. - -In a later case the court held: "The question whether persons are -colored or white, where color or feature are doubtful, is for the jury -to decide by reputation, by reception into society, and by their -exercise of the privileges of the white man, as well as by admixture of -blood." - -It is an interesting question why such should have been, and should -still be, for that matter, the law of South Carolina, and why there -should exist in that state a condition of public opinion which would -accept such a law. Perhaps it may be attributed to the fact that the -colored population of South Carolina always outnumbered the white -population, and the eagerness of the latter to recruit their ranks was -sufficient to overcome in some measure their prejudice against the Negro -blood. It is certainly true that the color-line is, in practice as in -law, more loosely drawn in South Carolina than in any other Southern -State, and that no inconsiderable element of the population of that -state consists of these legal white persons, who were either born in the -state, or, attracted thither by this feature of the laws, have come in -from surrounding states, and, forsaking home and kindred, have taken -their social position as white people. A reasonable degree of reticence -in regard to one's antecedents is, however, usual in such cases. - -Before the War the color-line, as fixed by law, regulated in theory the -civil and political status of persons of color. What that status was, -was expressed in the Dred Scott decision. But since the War, or rather -since the enfranchisement of the colored people, these laws have been -mainly confined--in theory, be it always remembered--to the regulation -of the intercourse of the races in schools and in the marriage relation. -The extension of the color-line to places of public entertainment and -resort, to inns and public highways, is in most states entirely a matter -of custom. A colored man can sue in the courts of any Southern State for -the violation of his common-law rights, and recover damages of say fifty -cents without costs. A colored minister who sued a Baltimore steamboat -company a few weeks ago for refusing him first-class accommodation, he -having paid first-class fare, did not even meet with that measure of -success; the learned judge, a Federal judge by the way, held that the -plaintiff's rights had been invaded, and that he had suffered -humiliation at the hands of the defendant company, but that "the -humiliation was not sufficient to entitle him to damages." And the -learned judge dismissed the action without costs to either party. - -Having thus ascertained what constitutes a white man, the good citizen -may be curious to know what steps have been taken to preserve the purity -of the white race. Nature, by some unaccountable oversight having to -some extent neglected a matter so important to the future prosperity and -progress of mankind. The marriage laws referred to here are in active -operation, and cases under them are by no means infrequent. Indeed, -instead of being behind the age, the marriage laws in the Southern -States are in advance of public opinion; for very rarely will a Southern -community stop to figure on the pedigree of the contracting parties to a -marriage where one is white and the other is known to have any strain of -Negro blood. - -In Virginia, under the title "Offenses against Morality," the law -provides that "any white person who shall intermarry with a Negro shall -be confined in jail not more than one year and fined not exceeding one -hundred dollars." In a marginal note on the statute-book, attention is -called to the fact that "a similar penalty is not imposed on the -Negro"--a stretch of magnanimity to which the laws of other states are -strangers. A person who performs the ceremony of marriage in such a case -is fined two hundred dollars, one-half of which goes to the informer. - -In Maryland, a minister who performs the ceremony of marriage between a -Negro and a white person is liable to a fine of one hundred dollars. - -In Mississippi, code of 1880, it is provided that "the marriage of a -white person to a Negro or mulatto or person who shall have one-fourth -or more of Negro blood, shall be unlawful"; and as this prohibition does -not seem sufficiently emphatic, it is further declared to be "incestuous -and void," and is punished by the same penalty prescribed for marriage -within the forbidden degrees of consanguinity. - -But it is Georgia, the _alma genetrix_ of the chain-gang, which merits -the questionable distinction of having the harshest set of color laws. -By the law of Georgia the term "person of color" is defined to mean "all -such as have an admixture of Negro blood, and the term 'Negro,' includes -mulattoes." - -This definition is perhaps restricted somewhat by another provision, by -which "all Negroes, mestizoes, and their descendants, having one-eighth -of Negro or mulatto blood in their veins, shall be known in this State -as persons of color." A colored minister is permitted to perform the -ceremony of marriage between colored persons only, tho white ministers -are not forbidden to join persons of color in wedlock. It is further -provided that "the marriage relation between white persons and persons -of African descent is forever prohibited, and such marriages shall be -null and void." This is a very sweeping provision; it will be noticed -that the term "persons of color," previously defined, is not employed, -the expression "persons of African descent" being used instead. A court -which was so inclined would find no difficulty in extending this -provision of the law to the remotest strain of African blood. The -marriage relation is forever prohibited. Forever is a long time. There -is a colored woman in Georgia said to be worth $300,000--an immense -fortune in the poverty stricken South. With a few hundred such women in -that state, possessing a fair degree of good looks, the color-line would -shrivel up like a scroll in the heat of competition for their hands in -marriage. The penalty for the violation of the law against intermarriage -is the same sought to be imposed by the defunct Glenn Bill for violation -of its provisions; i.e., a fine not to exceed one thousand dollars, and -imprisonment not to exceed six months, or twelve months in the -chain-gang. - -Whatever the wisdom or justice of these laws, there is one objection to -them which is not given sufficient prominence in the consideration of -the subject, even where it is discussed at all; they make mixed blood a -_prima-facie_ proof of illegitimacy. It is a fact that at present, in -the United States, a colored man or woman whose complexion is white or -nearly white is presumed, in the absence of any knowledge of his or her -antecedents, to be the offspring of a union not sanctified by law. And -by a curious but not uncommon process, such persons are not held in the -same low estimation as white people in the same position. The sins of -their fathers are not visited upon the children, in that regard at -least; and their mothers' lapses from virtue are regarded either as -misfortunes or as faults excusable under the circumstances. But in spite -of all this, illegitimacy is not a desirable distinction, and is likely -to become less so as these people of mixed blood advance in wealth and -social standing. This presumption of illegitimacy was once, perhaps, -true of the majority of such persons; but the times have changed. More -than half of the colored people of the United States are of mixed blood; -they marry and are given in marriage, and they beget children of -complexions similar to their own. Whether or not, therefore, laws which -stamp these children as illegitimate, and which by indirection establish -a lower standard of morality for a large part of the population than the -remaining part is judged by, are wise laws; and whether or not the -purity of the white race could not be as well preserved by the exercise -of virtue, and the operation of those natural laws which are so often -quoted by Southern writers as the justification of all sorts of Southern -"policies"--are questions which the good citizen may at least turn over -in his mind occasionally, pending the settlement of other complications -which have grown out of the presence of the Negro on this continent. - -_Independent_, May 30, 1889 - - - - -The Future American - - -WHAT THE RACE IS LIKELY TO BECOME IN THE PROCESS OF TIME - -The future American race is a popular theme for essayists, and has been -much discussed. Most expressions upon the subject, however, have been -characterized by a conscious or unconscious evasion of some of the main -elements of the problem involved in the formation of a future American -race, or, to put it perhaps more correctly, a future ethnic type that -shall inhabit the northern part of the western continent. Some of these -obvious omissions will be touched upon in these articles; and if the -writer has any preconceived opinions that would affect his judgment, -they are at least not the hackneyed prejudices of the past--if they lead -to false conclusions, they at least furnish a new point of view, from -which, taken with other widely differing views, the judicious reader may -establish a parallax that will enable him to approximate the truth. - -The popular theory is that the future American race will consist of a -harmonious fusion of the various European elements which now make up our -heterogeneous population. The result is to be something infinitely -superior to the best of the component elements. This perfection of -type--no good American could for a moment doubt that it will be as -perfect as everything else American--is to be brought about by a -combination of all the best characteristics of the different European -races, and the elimination, by some strange alchemy, of all their -undesirable traits--for even a good American will admit that European -races, now and then, have some undesirable traits when they first come -over. It is a beautiful, a hopeful, and to the eye of faith, a thrilling -prospect. The defect of the argument, however, lies in the -incompleteness of the premises, and its obliviousness of certain facts -of human nature and human history. - -Before putting forward any theory upon the subject, it may be well -enough to remark that recent scientific research has swept away many -hoary anthropological fallacies. It has been demonstrated that the shape -or size of the head has little or nothing to do with the civilization or -average intelligence of a race; that language, so recently lauded as an -infallible test of racial origin is of absolutely no value in this -connection, its distribution being dependent upon other conditions than -race. Even color, upon which the social structure of the United States -is so largely based, has been proved no test of race. The conception of -a pure Aryan, Indo-European race has been abandoned in scientific -circles, and the secret of the progress of Europe has been found in -racial heterogeneity, rather than in racial purity. The theory that the -Jews are a pure race has been exploded, and their peculiar type -explained upon a different and much more satisfactory hypothesis. To -illustrate the change of opinion and the growth of liberality in -scientific circles, imagine the reception which would have been accorded -to this proposition, if laid down by an American writer fifty or sixty -years ago: "The European races, as a whole, show signs of a secondary or -derived origin; certain characteristics, especially the texture of the -hair, lead us to class them as intermediate between the extreme primary -types of the Asiatic and Negro races respectively." This is put forward -by the author, not as a mere hypothesis, but as a proposition fairly -susceptible of proof, and is supported by an elaborate argument based -upon microscopical comparisons, to which numerous authorities are cited. -If this fact be borne in mind it will simplify in some degree our -conception of a future American ethnic type. - -By modern research the unity of the human race has been proved (if it -needed any proof to the careful or fair-minded observer), and the -differentiation of races by selection and environment has been so stated -as to prove itself. Greater emphasis has been placed upon environment as -a factor in ethnic development, and what has been called "the vulgar -theory of race," as accounting for progress and culture, has been -relegated to the limbo of exploded dogmas. One of the most perspicuous -and forceful presentations of these modern conclusions of anthropology -is found in the volume above quoted, a book which owes its origin to a -Boston scholar. - -Proceeding then upon the firm basis laid down by science and the -historic parallel, it ought to be quite clear that the future American -race--the future American ethnic type--will be formed of a mingling, in -a yet to be ascertained proportion, of the various racial varieties -which make up the present population of the United States; or, to extend -the area a little farther, of the various peoples of the northern -hemisphere of the western continent; for, if certain recent tendencies -are an index of the future it is not safe to fix the boundaries of the -future United States anywhere short of the Arctic Ocean on the north and -the Isthmus of Panama on the south. But, even with the continuance of -the present political divisions, conditions of trade and ease of travel -are likely to gradually assimilate to one type all the countries of the -hemisphere. Assuming that the country is so well settled that no great -disturbance of ratios is likely to result from immigration, or any -serious conflict of races, we may safely build our theory of a future -American race upon the present population of the country. I use the word -"race" here in its popular sense--that of a people who look -substantially alike, and are moulded by the same culture and dominated -by the same ideals. - -By the eleventh census, the ratios of which will probably not be changed -materially by the census now under way, the total population of the -United States was about 65,000,000, of which about seven million were -black and colored, and something over 200,000 were of Indian blood. It -is then in the three broad types--white, black and Indian--that the -future American race will find the material for its formation. Any dream -of a pure white race, of the Anglo-Saxon type, for the United States, -may as well be abandoned as impossible, even if desirable. That such -future race will be predominantly white may well be granted--unless -climate in the course of time should modify existing types; that it will -call itself white is reasonably sure; that it will conform closely to -the white type is likely; but that it will have absorbed and assimilated -the blood of the other two races mentioned is as certain as the -operation of any law well can be that deals with so uncertain a quantity -as the human race. - -There are no natural obstacles to such an amalgamation. The unity of the -race is not only conceded but demonstrated by actual crossing. Any -theory of sterility due to race crossing may as well be abandoned; it is -founded mainly on prejudice and cannot be proved by the facts. If it -come from Northern or European sources, it is likely to be weakened by -lack of knowledge; if from Southern sources, it is sure to be colored -by prejudices. My own observation is that in a majority of cases people -of mixed blood are very prolific and very long-lived. The admixture of -races in the United States has never taken place under conditions likely -to produce the best results but there have nevertheless been enough -conspicuous instances to the contrary in this country, to say nothing of -a long and honorable list in other lands, to disprove the theory that -people of mixed blood, other things being equal, are less virile, -prolific or able than those of purer strains. But whether this be true -or not is apart from this argument. Admitting that races may mix, and -that they are thrown together under conditions which permit their -admixture, the controlling motive will be not abstract considerations -with regard to a remote posterity, but present interest and inclination. - -The Indian element in the United States proper is so small -proportionally--about one in three hundred--and the conditions for its -amalgamation so favorable, that it would of itself require scarcely any -consideration in this argument. There is no prejudice against the Indian -blood, in solution. A half or quarter-breed, removed from the tribal -environment, is freely received among white people. After the second or -third remove he may even boast of his Indian descent; it gives him a -sort of distinction, and involves no social disability. The distribution -of the Indian race, however, tends to make the question largely a local -one, and the survival of tribal relation may postpone the results for -some little time. It will be, however, the fault of the United States -Indian himself if he be not speedily amalgamated with the white -population. - -The Indian element, however, looms up larger when we include Mexico and -Central America in our fields of discussion. By the census of Mexico -just completed, over eighty per cent of the population is composed of -mixed and Indian races. The remainder is presumably of pure Spanish, or -European blood, with a dash of Negro along the coast. The population is -something over twelve millions, thus adding nine millions of Indians and -Mestizos to be taken into account. Add several millions of similar -descent in Central America, a million in Porto Rico, who are said to -have an aboriginal strain, and it may safely be figured that the Indian -element will be quite considerable in the future American race. Its -amalgamation will involve no great difficulty, however; it has been -going on peacefully in the countries south of us for several centuries, -and is likely to continue along similar lines. The peculiar disposition -of the American to overlook mixed blood in a foreigner will simplify the -gradual absorption of these Southern races. - -The real problem, then, the only hard problem in connection with the -future American race, lies in the Negro element of our population. As I -have said before, I believe it is destined to play its part in the -formation of this new type. The process by which this will take place -will be no sudden and wholesale amalgamation--a thing certainly not to -be expected, and hardly to be desired. If it were held desirable, and -one could imagine a government sufficiently autocratic to enforce its -behests, it would be no great task to mix the races mechanically, -leaving to time merely the fixing of the resultant type. - -Let us for curiosity outline the process. To start with, the Negroes are -already considerably mixed--many of them in large proportion, and most -of them in some degree--and the white people, as I shall endeavor to -show later on, are many of them slightly mixed with the Negro. But we -will assume, for the sake of the argument, that the two races are -absolutely pure. We will assume, too, that the laws of the whole country -were as favorable to this amalgamation as the laws of most Southern -States are at present against it; i.e., that it were made a misdemeanor -for two white or two colored persons to marry, so long as it was -possible to obtain a mate of the other race--this would be even more -favorable than the Southern rule, which makes no such exception. Taking -the population as one-eighth Negro, this eighth, married to an equal -number of whites, would give in the next generation a population of -which one-fourth would be mulattoes. Mating these in turn with white -persons, the next generation would be composed one-half of quadroons, or -persons one-fourth Negro. In the third generation, applying the same -rule, the entire population would be composed of octoroons, or persons -only one-eighth Negro, who would probably call themselves white, if by -this time there remained any particular advantage in being so -considered. Thus in three generations the pure whites would be entirely -eliminated, and there would be no perceptible trace of the blacks left. - -The mechanical mixture would be complete; as it would probably be put, -the white race would have absorbed the black. There would be no inferior -race to domineer over; there would be no superior race to oppress those -who differed from them in racial externals. The inevitable social -struggle, which in one form or another, seems to be one of the -conditions of progress, would proceed along other lines than those of -race. If now and then, for a few generations, an occasional trace of the -black ancestor should crop out, no one would care, for all would be -tarred with the same stick. This is already the case in South America, -parts of Mexico and to a large extent in the West Indies. From a Negroid -nation, which ours is already, we would have become a composite and -homogeneous people, and the elements of racial discord which have -troubled our civil life so gravely and still threaten our free -institutions, would have been entirely eliminated. - -But this will never happen. The same result will be brought about slowly -and obscurely, and, if the processes of nature are not too violently -interrupted by the hand of man, in such a manner as to produce the best -results with the least disturbance of natural laws. In another article I -shall endeavor to show that this process has been taking place with -greater rapidity than is generally supposed, and that the results have -been such as to encourage the belief that the formation of a uniform -type out of our present racial elements will take place within a -measurably near period. - -_Boston Evening Transcript_, August 18, 1900 - - -A STREAM OF DARK BLOOD IN THE VEINS OF THE SOUTHERN WHITES - -I have said that the formation of the new American race type will take -place slowly and obscurely for some time to come, after the manner of -all healthy changes in nature. I may go further and say that this -process has already been going on ever since the various races in the -Western world have been brought into juxtaposition. Slavery was a rich -soil for the production of a mixed race, and one need only read the -literature and laws of the past two generations to see how steadily, -albeit slowly and insidiously, the stream of dark blood has insinuated -itself into the veins of the dominant, or, as a Southern critic recently -described it in a paragraph that came under my eye, the "domineering" -race. The Creole stories of Mr. Cable and other writers were not mere -figments of the imagination; the beautiful octoroon was a corporeal -fact; it is more than likely that she had brothers of the same -complexion, though curiously enough the male octoroon has cut no figure -in fiction, except in the case of the melancholy Honore Grandissime, -f.m.c; and that she and her brothers often crossed the invisible but -rigid color line was an historical fact that only an ostrich-like -prejudice could deny. - -Grace King's "Story of New Orleans" makes the significant statement that -the quadroon women of that city preferred white fathers for their -children, in order that these latter might become white and thereby be -qualified to enter the world of opportunity. More than one of the best -families of Louisiana has a dark ancestral strain. A conspicuous -American family of Southwestern extraction, which recently contributed a -party to a brilliant international marriage, is known, by the -well-informed, to be just exactly five generations removed from a Negro -ancestor. One member of this family, a distinguished society leader, has -been known, upon occasion, when some question of the rights or -privileges of the colored race came up, to show a very noble sympathy -for her distant kinsmen. If American prejudice permitted her and others -to speak freely of her pedigree, what a tower of strength her name and -influence would be to a despised and struggling race! - -A distinguished American man of letters, now resident in Europe, who -spent many years in North Carolina, has said to the writer that he had -noted, in the course of a long life, at least a thousand instances of -white persons known or suspected to possess a strain of Negro blood. An -amusing instance of this sort occurred a year or two ago. It was -announced through the newspapers, whose omniscience of course no one -would question, that a certain great merchant of Chicago was a mulatto. -This gentleman had a large dry goods trade in the South, notably in -Texas. Shortly after the publication of the item reflecting on the -immaculateness of the merchant's descent, there appeared in the Texas -newspapers, among the advertising matter, a statement from the Chicago -merchant characterizing the rumor as a malicious falsehood, concocted by -his rivals in business, and incidentally calling attention to the -excellent bargains offered to retailers and jobbers at his great -emporium. A counter-illustration is found in the case of a certain -bishop, recently elected, of the African Methodist Episcopal Church, who -is accused of being a white man. A colored editor who possesses the -saving grace of humor, along with other talents of a high order, gravely -observed, in discussing this rumor, that "the poor man could not help -it, even if he were white, and that a fact for which he was in no wise -responsible should not be allowed to stand in the way of his -advancement." - -During a residence in North Carolina in my youth and early manhood I -noted many curious phases of the race problem. I have in mind a family -of three sisters so aggressively white that the old popular Southern -legend that they were the unacknowledged children of white parents was -current concerning them. There was absolutely not the slightest earmark -of the Negro about them. It may be stated here, as another race fallacy, -that the "telltale dark mark at the root of the nails," supposed to be -an infallible test of Negro blood, is a delusion and a snare, and of no -value whatever as a test of race. It belongs with the grewsome -superstition that a woman apparently white may give birth to a -coal-black child by a white father. Another instance that came under my -eye was that of a very beautiful girl with soft, wavy brown hair, who is -now living in a Far Western State as the wife of a white husband. A -typical case was that of a family in which the tradition of Negro origin -had persisted long after all trace of it had disappeared. The family -took its origin from a white ancestress, and had consequently been free -for several generations. The father of the first colored child, counting -the family in the female line--the only way it could be counted--was a -mulatto. A second infusion of white blood, this time on the paternal -side, resulted in offspring not distinguishable from pure white. One -child of this generation emigrated to what was then the Far West, -married a white woman and reared a large family, whose descendants, now -in the fourth or fifth remove from the Negro, are in all probability -wholly unaware of their origin. A sister of this pioneer emigrant -remained in the place of her birth and formed an irregular union with a -white man of means, with whom she lived for many years and for whom she -bore a large number of children, who became about evenly divided between -white and colored, fixing their status by the marriages they made. One -of the daughters, for instance, married a white man and reared in a -neighboring county a family of white children, who, in all probability, -were as active as any one else in the recent ferocious red-shirt -campaign to disfranchise the Negroes. - -In this same town there was stationed once, before the war, at the -Federal arsenal there located, an officer who fell in love with a "white -Negro" girl, as our Southern friends impartially dub them. This officer -subsequently left the army, and carried away with him to the North the -whole family of his inamorata. He married the woman, and their -descendants, who live in a large Western city, are not known at all as -persons of color, and show no trace of their dark origin. - -Two notable bishops of the Roman Catholic communion in the United States -are known to be the sons of a slave mother and a white father, who, -departing from the usual American rule, gave his sons freedom, education -and a chance in life, instead of sending them to the auction block. -Colonel T.W. Higginson, in his _Cheerful Yesterdays_, relates the story -of a white colored woman whom he assisted in her escape from slavery or -its consequences, who married a white man in the vicinity of Boston and -lost her identity with the colored race. How many others there must be -who know of similar instances! Grace King, in her "Story of New -Orleans," to which I have referred, in speaking of a Louisiana law which -required the public records, when dealing with persons of color, always -to specify the fact of color, in order, so far had the admixture of -races gone, to distinguish them from whites, says: "But the officers of -the law could be bribed, and the qualification once dropped acted, -inversely, as a patent of pure blood." - -A certain well-known Shakspearean actress has a strain of Negro blood, -and a popular leading man under a well-known manager is similarly -gifted. It would be interesting to give their names, but would probably -only injure them. If they could themselves speak of their origin, -without any unpleasant consequences, it would be a handsome thing for -the colored race. That they do not is no reproach to them; they are -white to all intents and purposes, even by the curious laws of the -curious States from which they derived their origin, and are in all -conscience entitled to any advantage accompanying this status. - -Anyone at all familiar with the hopes and aspirations of the colored -race, as expressed, for instance, in their prolific newspaper -literature, must have perceived the wonderful inspiration which they -have drawn from the career of a few distinguished Europeans of partial -Negro ancestry, who have felt no call, by way of social prejudice, to -deny or conceal their origin, or to refuse their sympathy to those who -need it so much. Pushkin, the Russian Shakspeare, had a black ancestor. -One of the chief editors of the London _Times_, who died a few years -ago, was a West Indian colored man, who had no interest in concealing -the fact. One of the generals of the British army is similarly favored, -although the fact is not often referred to. General Alfred Dodds, the -ranking general of the French army, now in command in China, is a -quadroon. The poet, Robert Browning, was of West Indian origin, and some -of his intimate personal friends maintained and proved to their own -satisfaction that he was partly of Negro descent. Mr. Browning always -said that he did not know; that there was no family tradition to that -effect; but if it could be demonstrated he would admit it freely enough, -if it would reflect any credit upon a race who needed it so badly. - -The most conspicuous of the Eurafricans (to coin a word) were the Dumas -family, who were distinguished for three generations. The mulatto, -General Dumas, won distinction in the wars under the Revolution. His -son, the famous Alexandre Dumas _pere_, has delighted several -generations with his novels, and founded a school of fiction. His son, -Alexandre _fils_, novelist and dramatist, was as supreme in his own line -as his father had been in his. Old Alexandre gives his pedigree in -detail in his memoirs; and the Negro origin of the family is set out in -every encyclopaedia. Nevertheless, in a literary magazine of recent -date, published in New York, it was gravely stated by a writer that -"there was a rumor, probably not well founded, that the author of -Monte-Cristo had a very distant strain of Negro blood." If this had been -written with reference to some living American of obscure origin, its -point might be appreciated; but such extreme delicacy in stating so -widely known a fact appeals to one's sense of humor. - -These European gentlemen could be outspoken about their origin, because -it carried with it no social stigma or disability whatever. When such a -state of public opinion exists in the United States, there may be a -surprising revision of pedigrees! - -A little incident that occurred not long ago near Boston will illustrate -the complexity of these race relations. Three light-colored men, -brothers, by the name, we will say, of Green, living in a Boston suburb, -married respectively a white, a brown and a black woman. The children -with the white mother became known as white, and associated with white -people. The others were frankly colored. By a not unlikely coincidence, -in the course of time the children of the three families found -themselves in the same public school. Curiously enough, one afternoon -the three sets of Green children--the white Greens, the brown Greens and -the black Greens--were detained after school, and were all directed to -report to a certain schoolroom, where they were assigned certain tasks -at the blackboards about the large room. Still more curiously, most of -the teachers of the school happened to have business in this particular -room on that particular afternoon, and all of them seemed greatly -interested in the Green children. - -"Well, well, did you ever! Just think of it! And they are all first -cousins!" was remarked audibly. - -The children were small, but they lived in Boston, and were, of course, -as became Boston children, preternaturally intelligent for their years. -They reported to their parents the incident and a number of remarks of a -similar tenor to the one above quoted. The result was a complaint to the -school authorities, and a reprimand to several teachers. A curious -feature of the affair lay in the source from which the complaint -emanated. One might suppose it to have come from the white Greens; but -no, they were willing that the incident should pass unnoticed and be -promptly forgotten; publicity would only advertise a fact which would -work to their social injury. The dark Greens rather enjoyed the affair; -they had nothing to lose; they had no objections to being known as the -cousins of the others, and experienced a certain not unnatural pleasure -in their discomfiture. The complaint came from the brown Greens. The -reader can figure out the psychology of it for himself. - -A more certain proof of the fact that Negro blood is widely distributed -among the white people may be found in the laws and judicial decisions -of the various States. Laws, as a rule, are not made until demanded by a -sufficient number of specific cases to call for a general rule; and -judicial decisions of course are never announced except as the result of -litigation over contested facts. There is no better index of the -character and genius of a people than their laws. - -In North Carolina, marriage between white persons and free persons of -color was lawful until 1830. By the Missouri code of 1855, the color -line was drawn at one-fourth of Negro blood, and persons of only -one-eighth were legally white. The same rule was laid down by the -Mississippi code of 1880. Under the old code noir of Louisiana, the -descendant of a white and a quadroon was white. Under these laws many -persons currently known as "colored," or, more recently as "Negro," -would be legally white if they chose to claim and exercise the -privilege. In Ohio, before the Civil War, a person more than half-white -was legally entitled to all the rights of a white man. In South -Carolina, the line of cleavage was left somewhat indefinite; the color -line was drawn tentatively at one-fourth of Negro blood, but this was -not held conclusive. - -"The term 'mulatto'," said the Supreme Court of that State in a reported -case, "is not invariably applicable to every admixture of African blood -with the European, nor is one having all the features of a white to be -ranked with the degraded class designated by the laws of the State as -persons of color, because of some remote taint of the Negro race.... The -question whether persons are colored or white, where color or feature is -doubtful, is for the jury to determine by reputation, by reception into -society, and by their exercises of the privileges of a white man, as -well as by admixture of blood." - -It is well known that this liberality of view grew out of widespread -conditions in the State, which these decisions in their turn tended to -emphasize. They were probably due to the large preponderance of colored -people in the State, which rendered the whites the more willing to -augment their own number. There are many interesting color-line -decisions in the reports of the Southern courts, which space will not -permit the mention of. - -In another article I shall consider certain conditions which retard the -development of the future American race type which I have suggested, as -well as certain other tendencies which are likely to promote it. - -_Boston Evening Transcript_, August 25, 1900 - - -A COMPLETE RACE-AMALGAMATION LIKELY TO OCCUR - -I have endeavored in two former letters to set out the reasons why it -seems likely that the future American ethnic type will be formed by a -fusion of all the various races now peopling this continent, and to show -that this process has been under way, slowly but surely, like all -evolutionary movements, for several hundred years. I wish now to consider -some of the conditions which will retard this fusion, as well as certain -other facts which tend to promote it. - -The Indian phase of the problem, so far at least as the United States is -concerned, has been practically disposed of in what has already been -said. The absorption of the Indians will be delayed so long as the -tribal relations continue, and so long as the Indians are treated as -wards of the Government, instead of being given their rights once for -all, and placed upon the footing of other citizens. It is presumed that -this will come about as the wilder Indians are educated and by the -development of the country brought into closer contact with -civilization, which must happen before a very great while. As has been -stated, there is no very strong prejudice against the Indian blood; a -well-stocked farm or a comfortable fortune will secure a white husband -for a comely Indian girl any day, with some latitude, and there is no -evidence of any such strong race instinct or organization as will make -the Indians of the future wish to perpetuate themselves as a small and -insignificant class in a great population, thus emphasizing distinctions -which would be overlooked in the case of the individual. - -The Indian will fade into the white population as soon as he chooses, -and in the United States proper the slender Indian strain will ere long -leave no trace discoverable by anyone but the anthropological expert. In -New Mexico and Central America, on the contrary, the chances seem to be -that the Indian will first absorb the non-indigenous elements, unless, -which is not unlikely, European immigration shall increase the white -contingent. - -The Negro element remains, then, the only one which seems likely to -present any difficulty of assimilation. The main obstacle that retards -the absorption of the Negro into the general population is the -apparently intense prejudice against color which prevails in the United -States. This prejudice loses much of its importance, however, when it is -borne in mind that it is almost purely local and does not exist in quite -the same form anywhere else in the world, except among the Boers of -South Africa, where it prevails in an even more aggravated form; and, as -I shall endeavor to show, this prejudice in the United States is more -apparent than real, and is a caste prejudice which is merely accentuated -by differences of race. At present, however, I wish to consider it -merely as a deterrent to amalgamation. - -This prejudice finds forcible expression in the laws which prevail in -all the Southern States, without exception, forbidding the intermarriage -of white persons and persons of color--these last being generally -defined within certain degrees. While it is evident that such laws alone -will not prevent the intermingling of races, which goes merrily on in -spite of them, it is equally apparent that this placing of mixed -marriages beyond the pale of the law is a powerful deterrent to any -honest or dignified amalgamation. Add to this legal restriction, which -is enforced by severe penalties, the social odium accruing to the white -party to such a union, and it may safely be predicted that so long as -present conditions prevail in the South, there will be little marrying -or giving in marriage between persons of different race. So ferocious -is this sentiment against intermarriage, that in a recent Missouri case, -where a colored man ran away with and married a young white woman, the -man was pursued by a "posse"--a word which is rapidly being debased from -its proper meaning by its use in the attempt to dignify the character of -lawless Southern mobs--and shot to death; the woman was tried and -convicted of the "crime" of "miscegenation"--another honest word which -the South degrades along with the Negro. - -Another obstacle to race fusion lies in the drastic and increasing -proscriptive legislation by which the South attempts to keep the white -and colored races apart in every place where their joint presence might -be taken to imply equality; or, to put it more directly, the persistent -effort to degrade the Negro to a distinctly and permanently inferior -caste. This is undertaken by means of separate schools, separate -railroad and street cars, political disfranchisement, debasing and -abhorrent prison systems, and an unflagging campaign of calumny, by -which the vices and shortcomings of the Negroes are grossly magnified -and their virtues practically lost sight of. The popular argument that -the Negro ought to develop his own civilization, and has no right to -share in that of the white race, unless by favor, comes with poor grace -from those who are forcing their civilization upon others at the -cannon's mouth; it is, moreover, uncandid and unfair. The white people -of the present generation did not make their civilization; they -inherited it ready-made, and much of the wealth which is so strong a -factor in their power was created by the unpaid labor of the colored -people. The present generation has, however, brought to a high state of -development one distinctively American institution, for which it is -entitled to such credit as it may wish to claim; I refer to the custom -of lynching, with its attendant horrors. - -The principal deterrent to race admixture, however, is the low -industrial and social efficiency of the colored race. If it be conceded -that these are the result of environment, then their cause is not far to -seek, and the cure is also in sight. Their poverty, their ignorance and -their servile estate render them as yet largely ineligible for social -fusion with a race whose pride is fed not only by the record of its -achievements but by a constant comparison with a less developed and -less fortunate race, which it has held so long in subjection. - -The forces that tend to the future absorption of the black race are, -however, vastly stronger than those arrayed against it. As experience -has demonstrated, slavery was favorable to the mixing of races. The -growth, under healthy civil conditions, of a large and self-respecting -colored citizenship would doubtless tend to lessen the clandestine -association of the two races; but the effort to degrade the Negro may -result, if successful, in a partial restoration of the old status. But, -assuming that the present anti-Negro legislation is but a temporary -reaction, then the steady progress of the colored race in wealth and -culture and social efficiency will, in the course of time, materially -soften the asperities of racial prejudice and permit them to approach -the whites more closely, until, in time, the prejudice against -intermarriage shall have been overcome by other considerations. - -It is safe to say that the possession of a million dollars, with the -ability to use it to the best advantage, would throw such a golden glow -over a dark complexion as to override anything but a very obdurate -prejudice. Mr. Spahr, in his well-studied and impartial book on -_America's Working People_, states as his conclusion, after a careful -study of conditions in the South, that the most advanced third of the -Negroes of that section has already, in one generation of limited -opportunity, passed in the race of life the least advanced third of the -whites. To pass the next third will prove a more difficult task, no -doubt, but the Negroes will have the impetus of their forward movement -to push them ahead. - -The outbreaks of race prejudice in recent years are the surest evidence -of the Negro's progress. No effort is required to keep down a race which -manifests no desire nor ability to rise; but with each new forward -movement of the colored race it is brought into contact with the whites -at some fresh point, which evokes a new manifestation of prejudice until -custom has adjusted things to the new condition. When all Negroes were -poor and ignorant they could be denied their rights with impunity. As -they grow in knowledge and in wealth they become more self-assertive, -and make it correspondingly troublesome for those who would ignore their -claims. It is much easier, by a supreme effort, as recently attempted -with temporary success in North Carolina, to knock the race down and rob -it of its rights once for all, than to repeat the process from day to -day and with each individual; it saves wear and tear on the conscience, -and makes it easy to maintain a superiority which it might in the course -of a short time require some little effort to keep up. - -This very proscription, however, political and civil at the South, -social all over the country, varying somewhat in degree, will, unless -very soon relaxed, prove a powerful factor in the mixture of the races. -If it is only by becoming white that colored people and their children -are to enjoy the rights and dignities of citizenship, they will have -every incentive to "lighten the breed," to use a current phrase, that -they may claim the white man's privileges as soon as possible. That this -motive is already at work may be seen in the enormous extent to which -certain "face bleachers" and "hair straighteners" are advertised in the -newspapers printed for circulation among the colored people. The most -powerful factor in achieving any result is the wish to bring it about. -The only thing that ever succeeded in keeping two races separated when -living on the same soil--the only true ground of caste--is religion, and -as has been alluded to in the case of the Jews, this is only -superficially successful. The colored people are the same as the whites -in religion; they have the same standards and mediums of culture, the -same ideals, and the presence of the successful white race as a constant -incentive to their ambition. The ultimate result is not difficult to -foresee. The races will be quite as effectively amalgamated by -lightening the Negroes as they would be by darkening the whites. It is -only a social fiction, indeed, which makes of a person seven-eighths -white a Negro; he is really much more a white man. - -The hope of the Negro, so far as the field of moral sympathy and support -in his aspirations is concerned, lies, as always, chiefly in the North. -There the forces which tend to his elevation are, in the main, allowed -their natural operation. The exaggerated zeal with which the South is -rushing to degrade the Negro is likely to result, as in the case of -slavery, in making more friends for him at the North; and if the North -shall not see fit to interfere forcibly with Southern legislation, it -may at least feel disposed to emphasize, by its own liberality, its -disapproval of Southern injustice and barbarity. - -An interesting instance of the difference between the North and the -South in regard to colored people, may be found in two cases which -only last year came up for trial in two adjoining border States. A -colored man living in Maryland went over to Washington and married a -white woman. The marriage was legal in Washington. When they returned -to their Maryland home they were arrested for the crime of -"miscegenation"--perhaps it is only a misdemeanor in Maryland--and -sentenced to fine and imprisonment, the penalty of extra-judicial death -not extending so far North. The same month a couple, one white and one -colored, were arrested in New Jersey for living in adultery. They were -found guilty by the court, but punishment was withheld upon a promise -that they would marry immediately; or, as some cynic would undoubtedly -say, the punishment was commuted from imprisonment to matrimony. - -The adding to our territories of large areas populated by dark races, -some of them already liberally dowered with Negro blood, will enhance -the relative importance of the non-Caucasian elements of the population, -and largely increase the flow of dark blood toward the white race, until -the time shall come when distinctions of color shall lose their -importance, which will be but the prelude to a complete racial fusion. - -The formation of this future American race is not a pressing problem. -Because of the conditions under which it must take place, it is likely -to be extremely slow--much slower, indeed, in our temperate climate and -highly organized society, than in the American tropics and sub-tropics, -where it is already well under way, if not a _fait accompli_. That -it must come in the United States, sooner or later, seems to be a foregone -conclusion, as the result of natural law--_lex dura, sed tamen lex_--a -hard pill, but one which must be swallowed. There can manifestly be no -such thing as a peaceful and progressive civilization in a nation -divided by two warring races, and homogeneity of type, at least in -externals, is a necessary condition of harmonious social progress. - -If this, then, must come, the development and progress of all the -constituent elements of the future American race is of the utmost -importance as bearing upon the quality of the resultant type. The white -race is still susceptible of some improvement; and if, in time, the more -objectionable Negro traits are eliminated, and his better qualities -correspondingly developed, his part in the future American race may well -be an important and valuable one. - -_Boston Evening Transcript_, September 1, 1900 - - - - -The Disfranchisement of the Negro - - -The right of American citizens of African descent, commonly called -Negroes, to vote upon the same terms as other citizens of the United -States, is plainly declared and firmly fixed by the Constitution. No -such person is called upon to present reasons why he should possess this -right: that question is foreclosed by the Constitution. The object of -the elective franchise is to give representation. So long as the -Constitution retains its present form, any State Constitution, or -statute, which seeks, by juggling the ballot, to deny the colored race -fair representation, is a clear violation of the fundamental law of the -land, and a corresponding injustice to those thus deprived of this -right. - -For thirty-five years this has been the law. As long as it was -measurably respected, the colored people made rapid strides in -education, wealth, character and self-respect. This the census proves, -all statements to the contrary notwithstanding. A generation has grown -to manhood and womanhood under the great, inspiring freedom conferred by -the Constitution and protected by the right of suffrage--protected in -large degree by the mere naked right, even when its exercise was -hindered or denied by unlawful means. They have developed, in every -Southern community, good citizens, who, if sustained and encouraged by -just laws and liberal institutions, would greatly augment their number -with the passing years, and soon wipe out the reproach of ignorance, -unthrift, low morals and social inefficiency, thrown at them -indiscriminately and therefore unjustly, and made the excuse for the -equally undiscriminating contempt of their persons and their rights. -They have reduced their illiteracy nearly 50 per cent. Excluded from the -institutions of higher learning in their own States, their young men -hold their own, and occasionally carry away honors, in the universities -of the North. They have accumulated three hundred million dollars worth -of real and personal property. Individuals among them have acquired -substantial wealth, and several have attained to something like national -distinction in art, letters and educational leadership. They are -numerously represented in the learned professions. Heavily handicapped, -they have made such rapid progress that the suspicion is justified that -their advancement, rather than any stagnation or retrogression, is the -true secret of the virulent Southern hostility to their rights, which -has so influenced Northern opinion that it stands mute, and leaves the -colored people, upon whom the North conferred liberty, to the tender -mercies of those who have always denied their fitness for it. - -It may be said, in passing, that the word "Negro," where used in this -paper, is used solely for convenience. By the census of 1890 there were -1,000,000 colored people in the country who were half, or more than -half, white, and logically there must be, as in fact there are, so many -who share the white blood in some degree, as to justify the assertion -that the race problem in the United States concerns the welfare and the -status of a mixed race. Their rights are not one whit the more sacred -because of this fact; but in an argument where injustice is sought to be -excused because of fundamental differences of race, it is well enough to -bear in mind that the race whose rights and liberties are endangered all -over this country by disfranchisement at the South, are the colored -people who live in the United States to-day, and not the lowbrowed, -man-eating savage whom the Southern white likes to set upon a block and -contrast with Shakespeare and Newton and Washington and Lincoln. - -Despite and in defiance of the Federal Constitution, to-day in the six -Southern States of Mississippi, Louisiana, Alabama, North Carolina, -South Carolina and Virginia, containing an aggregate colored population -of about 6,000,000, these have been, to all intents and purposes, -denied, so far as the States can effect it, the right to vote. This -disfranchisement is accomplished by various methods, devised with much -transparent ingenuity, the effort being in each instance to violate the -spirit of the Federal Constitution by disfranchising the Negro, while -seeming to respect its letter by avoiding the mention of race or color. - -These restrictions fall into three groups. The first comprises a -property qualification--the ownership of $300 worth or more of real or -personal property (Alabama, Louisiana, Virginia and South Carolina); the -payment of a poll tax (Mississippi, North Carolina, Virginia); an -educational qualification--the ability to read and write (Alabama, -Louisiana, North Carolina). Thus far, those who believe in a restricted -suffrage everywhere, could perhaps find no reasonable fault with any one -of these qualifications, applied either separately or together. - -But the Negro has made such progress that these restrictions alone would -perhaps not deprive him of effective representation. Hence the second -group. This comprises an "understanding" clause--the applicant must be -able "to read, or understand when read to him, any clause in the -Constitution" (Mississippi), or to read and explain, or to understand -and explain when read to him, any section of the Constitution -(Virginia); an employment qualification--the voter must be regularly -employed in some lawful occupation (Alabama); a character -qualification--the voter must be a person of good character and who -"understands the duties and obligations of citizens under a republican -[!] form of government" (Alabama). The qualifications under the first -group it will be seen, are capable of exact demonstration; those under -the second group are left to the discretion and judgment of the -registering officer--for in most instances these are all requirements -for registration, which must precede voting. - -But the first group, by its own force, and the second group, under -imaginable conditions, might exclude not only the Negro vote, but a -large part of the white vote. Hence, the third group, which comprises: a -military service qualification--any man who went to war, willingly or -unwillingly, in a good cause or a bad, is entitled to register (Ala., -Va.); a prescriptive qualification, under which are included all male -persons who were entitled to vote on January 1, 1867, at which date the -Negro had not yet been given the right to vote; a hereditary -qualification (the so-called "grandfather" clause), whereby any son -(Va.), or descendant (Ala.), of a soldier, and (N.C.) the descendant of -any person who had the right to vote on January 1, 1867, inherits that -right. If the voter wish to take advantage of these last provisions, -which are in the nature of exceptions to a general rule, he must -register within a stated time, whereupon he becomes a member of a -privileged class of permanently enrolled voters not subject to any of -the other restrictions. - -It will be seen that these restrictions are variously combined in the -different States, and it is apparent that if combined to their declared -end, practically every Negro may, under color of law, be denied the -right to vote, and practically every white man accorded that right. The -effectiveness of these provisions to exclude the Negro vote is proved by -the Alabama registration under the new State Constitution. Out of a -total, by the census of 1900, of 181,471 Negro "males of voting age," -less than 3,000 are registered; in Montgomery county alone, the seat of -the State capital, where there are 7,000 Negro males of voting age, only -47 have been allowed to register, while in several counties not one -single Negro is permitted to exercise the franchise. - -These methods of disfranchisement have stood such tests as the United -States Courts, including the Supreme Court, have thus far seen fit to -apply, in such cases as have been before them for adjudication. These -include a case based upon the "understanding" clause of the Mississippi -Constitution, in which the Supreme Court held, in effect, that since -there was no ambiguity in the language employed and the Negro was not -directly named, the Court would not go behind the wording of the -Constitution to find a meaning which discriminated against the colored -voter; and the recent case of Jackson vs. Giles, brought by a colored -citizen of Montgomery, Alabama, in which the Supreme Court confesses -itself impotent to provide a remedy for what, by inference, it -acknowledges may be a "great political wrong," carefully avoiding, -however, to state that it is a wrong, although the vital prayer of the -petition was for a decision upon this very point. - -Now, what is the effect of this wholesale disfranchisement of colored -men, upon their citizenship? The value of food to the human organism is -not measured by the pains of an occasional surfeit, but by the effect of -its entire deprivation. Whether a class of citizens should vote, even if -not always wisely--what class does?--may best be determined by -considering their condition when they are without the right to vote. - -The colored people are left, in the States where they have been -disfranchised, absolutely without representation, direct or indirect, -in any law-making body, in any court of justice, in any branch of -government--for the feeble remnant of voters left by law is so -inconsiderable as to be without a shadow of power. Constituting -one-eighth of the population of the whole country, two-fifths of the -whole Southern people, and a majority in several States, they are not -able, because disfranchised where most numerous, to send one -representative to the Congress, which, by the decision in the Alabama -case, is held by the Supreme Court to be the only body, outside of the -State itself, competent to give relief from a great political wrong. By -former decisions of the same tribunal, even Congress is impotent to -protect their civil rights, the Fourteenth Amendment having long since, -by the consent of the same Court, been in many respects as completely -nullified as the Fifteenth Amendment is now sought to be. They have no -direct representation in any Southern legislature, and no voice in -determining the choice of white men who might be friendly to their -rights. Nor are they able to influence the election of judges or other -public officials, to whom are entrusted the protection of their lives, -their liberties and their property. No judge is rendered careful, no -sheriff diligent, for fear that he may offend a black constituency; the -contrary is most lamentably true; day after day the catalogue of -lynchings and anti-Negro riots upon every imaginable pretext, grows -longer and more appalling. The country stands face to face with the -revival of slavery; at the moment of this writing a federal grand jury -in Alabama is uncovering a system of peonage established under cover of -law. - -Under the Southern program it is sought to exclude colored men from -every grade of the public service; not only from the higher -administrative functions, to which few of them would in any event, for a -long time aspire, but from the lowest as well. A Negro may not be a -constable or a policeman. He is subjected by law to many degrading -discriminations. He is required to be separated from white people on -railroads and street cars, and, by custom, debarred from inns and places -of public entertainment. His equal right to a free public education is -constantly threatened and is nowhere equitably recognized. In Georgia, -as has been shown by Dr. Du Bois, where the law provides for a pro rata -distribution of the public school fund between the races, and where the -colored school population is 48 per cent, of the total, the amount of -the fund devoted to their schools is only 20 per cent. In New Orleans, -with an immense colored population, many of whom are persons of means -and culture, all colored public schools above the fifth grade have been -abolished. - -The Negro is subjected to taxation without representation, which the -forefathers of this Republic made the basis of a bloody revolution. - -Flushed with their local success, and encouraged by the timidity of the -Courts and the indifference of public opinion, the Southern whites have -carried their campaign into the national government, with an ominous -degree of success. If they shall have their way, no Negro can fill any -federal office, or occupy, in the public service, any position that is -not menial. This is not an inference, but the openly, passionately -avowed sentiment of the white South. The right to employment in the -public service is an exceedingly valuable one, for which white men have -struggled and fought. A vast army of men are employed in the -administration of public affairs. Many avenues of employment are closed -to colored men by popular prejudice. If their right to public employment -is recognized, and the way to it open through the civil service, or the -appointing power, or the suffrages of the people, it will prove, as it -has already, a strong incentive to effort and a powerful lever for -advancement. Its value to the Negro, like that of the right to vote, may -be judged by the eagerness of the whites to deprive him of it. - -Not only is the Negro taxed without representation in the States -referred to, but he pays, through the tariff and internal revenue, a tax -to a National government whose supreme judicial tribunal declares that -it cannot, through the executive arm, enforce its own decrees, and, -therefore, refuses to pass upon a question, squarely before it, -involving a basic right of citizenship. For the decision of the Supreme -Court in the Giles case, if it foreshadows the attitude which the Court -will take upon other cases to the same general end which will soon come -before it, is scarcely less than a reaffirmation of the Dred Scott -decision; it certainly amounts to this--that in spite of the Fifteenth -Amendment, colored men in the United States have no political rights -which the States are bound to respect. To say this much is to say that -all privileges and immunities which Negroes henceforth enjoy, must be by -favor of the whites; they are not _rights_. The whites have so declared; -they proclaim that the country is theirs, that the Negro should be -thankful that he has so much, when so much more might be withheld from -him. He stands upon a lower footing than any alien; he has no government -to which he may look for protection. - -Moreover, the white South sends to Congress, on a basis including the -Negro population, a delegation nearly twice as large as it is justly -entitled to, and one which may always safely be relied upon to oppose in -Congress every measure which seeks to protect the equality, or to -enlarge the rights of colored citizens. The grossness of this injustice -is all the more apparent since the Supreme Court, in the Alabama case -referred to, has declared the legislative and political department of -the government to be the only power which can right a political wrong. -Under this decision still further attacks upon the liberties of the -citizen may be confidently expected. Armed with the Negro's sole weapon -of defense, the white South stands ready to smite down his rights. The -ballot was first given to the Negro to defend him against this very -thing. He needs it now far more than then, and for even stronger -reasons. The 9,000,000 free colored people of to day have vastly more to -defend than the 3,000,000 hapless blacks who had just emerged from -slavery. If there be those who maintain that it was a mistake to give -the Negro the ballot at the time and in the manner in which it was -given, let them take to heart this reflection: that to deprive him of it -to-day, or to so restrict it as to leave him utterly defenseless against -the present relentless attitude of the South toward his rights, will -prove to be a mistake so much greater than the first, as to be no less -than a crime, from which not alone the Southern Negro must suffer, but -for which the nation will as surely pay the penalty as it paid for the -crime of slavery. Contempt for law is death to a republic, and this one -has developed alarming symptoms of the disease. - -And now, having thus robbed the Negro of every political and civil -_right_, the white South, in palliation of its course, makes a great -show of magnanimity in leaving him, as the sole remnant of what he -acquired through the Civil War, a very inadequate public school -education, which, by the present program, is to be directed mainly -towards making him a better agricultural laborer. Even this is put -forward as a favor, although the Negro's property is taxed to pay for -it, and his labor as well. For it is a well settled principle of -political economy, that land and machinery of themselves produce -nothing, and that labor indirectly pays its fair proportion of the tax -upon the public's wealth. The white South seems to stand to the Negro at -present as one, who, having been reluctantly compelled to release -another from bondage, sees him stumbling forward and upward, neglected -by his friends and scarcely yet conscious of his own strength; seizes -him, binds him, and having bereft him of speech, of sight and of -manhood, "yokes him with the mule" and exclaims, with a show of virtue -which ought to deceive no one: "Behold how good a friend I am of yours! -Have I not left you a stomach and a pair of arms, and will I not -generously permit you to work for me with the one, that you may thereby -gain enough to fill the other? A brain you do not need. We will relieve -you of any responsibility that might seem to demand such an organ." - -The argument of peace-loving Northern white men and Negro opportunists -that the political power of the Negro having long ago been suppressed by -unlawful means, his right to vote is a mere paper right, of no real -value, and therefore to be lightly yielded for the sake of a -hypothetical harmony, is fatally short-sighted. It is precisely the -attitude and essentially the argument which would have surrendered to -the South in the sixties, and would have left this country to rot in -slavery for another generation. White men do not thus argue concerning -their own rights. They know too well the value of ideals. Southern white -men see too clearly the latent power of these unexercised rights. If the -political power of the Negro was a nullity because of his ignorance and -lack of leadership, why were they not content to leave it so, with the -pleasing assurance that if it ever became effective, it would be because -the Negroes had grown fit for its exercise? On the contrary, they have -not rested until the possibility of its revival was apparently headed -off by new State constitutions. Nor are they satisfied with this. There -is no doubt that an effort will be made to secure the repeal of the -Fifteenth Amendment, and thus forestall the development of the wealthy -and educated Negro, whom the South seems to anticipate as a greater -menace than the ignorant ex-slave. However improbable this repeal may -seem, it is not a subject to be lightly dismissed; for it is within the -power of the white people of the nation to do whatever they wish in the -premises--they did it once; they can do it again. The Negro and his -friends should see to it that the white majority shall never wish to do -anything to his hurt. There still stands, before the Negro-hating whites -of the South, the specter of a Supreme Court which will interpret the -Constitution to mean what it says, and what those who enacted it meant, -and what the nation, which ratified it, understood, and which will find -power, in a nation which goes beyond seas to administer the affairs of -distant peoples, to enforce its own fundamental laws; the specter, too, -of an aroused public opinion which will compel Congress and the Courts -to preserve the liberties of the Republic, which are the liberties of -the people. To wilfully neglect the suffrage, to hold it lightly, is to -tamper with a sacred right; to yield it for anything else whatever is -simply suicidal. Dropping the element of race, disfranchisement is no -more than to say to the poor and poorly taught, that they must -relinquish the right to defend themselves against oppression until they -shall have become rich and learned, in competition with those already -thus favored and possessing the ballot in addition. This is not the -philosophy of history. The growth of liberty has been the constant -struggle of the poor against the privileged classes; and the goal of -that struggle has ever been the equality of all men before the law. The -Negro who would yield this right, deserves to be a slave; he has the -servile spirit. The rich and the educated can, by virtue of their -influence, command many votes; can find other means of protection; the -poor man has but one, he should guard it as a sacred treasure. Long ago, -by fair treatment, the white leaders of the South might have bound the -Negro to themselves with hoops of steel. They have not chosen to take -this course, but by assuming from the beginning an attitude hostile to -his rights, have never gained his confidence, and now seek by foul means -to destroy where they have never sought by fair means to control. - -I have spoken of the effect of disfranchisement upon the colored race; -it is to the race as a whole, that the argument of the problem is -generally directed. But the unit of society in a republic is the -individual, and not the race, the failure to recognize this fact being -the fundamental error which has beclouded the whole discussion. The -effect of disfranchisement upon the individual is scarcely less -disastrous. I do not speak of the moral effect of injustice upon those -who suffer from it; I refer rather to the practical consequences which -may be appreciated by any mind. No country is free in which the way -upward is not open for every man to try, and for every properly -qualified man to attain whatever of good the community life may offer. -Such a condition does not exist, at the South, even in theory, for any -man of color. In no career can such a man compete with white men upon -equal terms. He must not only meet the prejudice of the individual, not -only the united prejudice of the white community; but lest some one -should wish to treat him fairly, he is met at every turn with some legal -prohibition which says, "Thou shalt not," or "Thus far shalt thou go and -no farther." But the Negro race is viable; it adapts itself readily to -circumstances; and being thus adaptable, there is always the temptation -to - - "Crook the pregnant hinges of the knee, - Where thrift may follow fawning." - -He who can most skillfully balance himself upon the advancing or -receding wave of white opinion concerning his race, is surest of such -measure of prosperity as is permitted to men of dark skins. There are -Negro teachers in the South--the privilege of teaching in their own -schools is the one respectable branch of the public service still left -open to them--who, for a grudging appropriation from a Southern -legislature, will decry their own race, approve their own degradation, -and laud their oppressors. Deprived of the right to vote, and, -therefore, of any power to demand what is their due, they feel impelled -to buy the tolerance of the whites at any sacrifice. If to live is the -first duty of man, as perhaps it is the first instinct, then those who -thus stoop to conquer may be right. But is it needful to stoop so low, -and if so, where lies the ultimate responsibility for this abasement? - -I shall say nothing about the moral effect of disfranchisement upon the -white people, or upon the State itself. What slavery made of the -Southern whites is a matter of history. The abolition of slavery gave -the South an opportunity to emerge from barbarism. Present conditions -indicate that the spirit which dominated slavery still curses the fair -section over which that institution spread its blight. - -And now, is the situation remediless? If not so, where lies the remedy? -First let us take up those remedies suggested by the men who approve of -disfranchisement, though they may sometimes deplore the method, or -regret the necessity. - -Time, we are told, heals all diseases, rights all wrongs, and is the -only cure for this one. It is a cowardly argument. These people are -entitled to their rights to-day, while they are yet alive to enjoy them; -and it is poor statesmanship and worse morals to nurse a present evil -and thrust it forward upon a future generation for correction. The -nation can no more honestly do this than it could thrust back upon a -past generation the responsibility for slavery. It had to meet that -responsibility; it ought to meet this one. - -Education has been put forward as the great corrective--preferably -industrial education. The intellect of the whites is to be educated to -the point where they will so appreciate the blessings of liberty and -equality, as of their own motion to enlarge and defend the Negro's -rights. The Negroes, on the other hand, are to be so trained as to make -them, not equal with the whites in any way--God save the mark!--this -would be unthinkable!--but so useful to the community that the whites -will protect them rather than lose their valuable services. Some few -enthusiasts go so far as to maintain that by virtue of education the -Negro will, in time, become strong enough to protect himself against any -aggression of the whites; this, it may be said, is a strictly Northern -view. - -It is not quite clearly apparent how education alone, in the ordinary -meaning of the word, is to solve, in any appreciable time, the problem -of the relations of Southern white and black people. The need of -education of all kinds for both races is wofully apparent. But men and -nations have been free without being learned, and there have been -educated slaves. Liberty has been known to languish where culture had -reached a very high development. Nations do not first become rich and -learned and then free, but the lesson of history has been that they -first become free and then rich and learned, and oftentimes fall back -into slavery again because of too great wealth, and the resulting luxury -and carelessness of civic virtues. The process of education has been -going on rapidly in the Southern States since the Civil War, and yet, if -we take superficial indications, the rights of the Negroes are at a -lower ebb than at any time during the thirty-five years of their -freedom, and the race prejudice more intense and uncompromising. It is -not apparent that educated Southerners are less rancorous than others in -their speech concerning the Negro, or less hostile in their attitude -toward his rights. It is their voice alone that we have heard in this -discussion; and if, as they state, they are liberal in their views as -compared with the more ignorant whites, then God save the Negro! - -I was told, in so many words, two years ago, by the Superintendent of -Public Schools of a Southern city that "there was no place in the modern -world for the Negro, except under the ground." If gentlemen holding such -opinions are to instruct the white youth of the South, would it be at -all surprising if these, later on, should devote a portion of their -leisure to the improvement of civilization by putting under the ground -as many of this superfluous race as possible? - -The sole excuse made in the South for the prevalent injustice to the -Negro is the difference in race, and the inequalities and antipathies -resulting therefrom. It has nowhere been declared as a part of the -Southern program that the Negro, when educated, is to be given a fair -representation in government or an equal opportunity in life; the -contrary has been strenuously asserted; education can never make of him -anything but a Negro, and, therefore, essentially inferior, and not to -be safely trusted with any degree of power. A system of education which -would tend to soften the asperities and lessen the inequalities between -the races would be of inestimable value. An education which by a rigid -separation of the races from the kindergarten to the university, fosters -this racial antipathy, and is directed toward emphasizing the -superiority of one class and the inferiority of another, might easily -have disastrous, rather than beneficial results. It would render the -oppressing class more powerful to injure, the oppressed quicker to -perceive and keener to resent the injury, without proportionate power of -defense. The same assimilative education which is given at the North to -all children alike, whereby native and foreign, black and white, are -taught side by side in every grade of instruction, and are compelled by -the exigencies of discipline to keep their prejudices in abeyance, and -are given the opportunity to learn and appreciate one another's good -qualities, and to establish friendly relations which may exist -throughout life, is absent from the Southern system of education, both -of the past and as proposed for the future. Education is in a broad -sense a remedy for all social ills; but the disease we have to deal with -now is not only constitutional but acute. A wise physician does not -simply give a tonic for a diseased limb, or a high fever; the patient -might be dead before the constitutional remedy could become effective. -The evils of slavery, its injury to whites and blacks, and to the body -politic, were clearly perceived and acknowledged by the educated leaders -of the South as far back as the Revolutionary War and the Constitutional -Convention, and yet they made no effort to abolish it. Their remedy was -the same--time, education, social and economic development;--and yet a -bloody war was necessary to destroy slavery and put its spirit -temporarily to sleep. When the South and its friends are ready to -propose a system of education which will recognize and teach the -equality of all men before the law, the potency of education alone to -settle the race problem will be more clearly apparent. - -At present even good Northern men, who wish to educate the Negroes, feel -impelled to buy this privilege from the none too eager white South, by -conceding away the civil and political rights of those whom they would -benefit. They have, indeed, gone farther than the Southerners themselves -in approving the disfranchisement of the colored race. Most Southern -men, now that they have carried their point and disfranchised the Negro, -are willing to admit, in the language of a recent number of the -Charleston _Evening Post_, that "the attitude of the Southern white man -toward the Negro is incompatible with the fundamental ideas of the -republic." It remained for our Clevelands and Abbotts and Parkhursts to -assure them that their unlawful course was right and justifiable, and -for the most distinguished Negro leader to declare that "every revised -Constitution throughout the Southern States has put a premium upon -intelligence, ownership of property, thrift and character." So does -every penitentiary sentence put a premium upon good conduct; but it is -poor consolation to the one unjustly condemned, to be told that he may -shorten his sentence somewhat by good behavior. Dr. Booker T. -Washington, whose language is quoted above, has, by his eminent services -in the cause of education, won deserved renown. If he has seemed, at -times, to those jealous of the best things for their race, to decry the -higher education, it can easily be borne in mind that his career is -bound up in the success of an industrial school; hence any undue stress -which he may put upon that branch of education may safely be ascribed to -the natural zeal of the promoter, without detracting in any degree from -the essential value of his teachings in favor of manual training, thrift -and character-building. But Mr. Washington's prominence as an -educational leader, among a race whose prominent leaders are so few, has -at times forced him, perhaps reluctantly, to express himself in regard -to the political condition of his people, and here his utterances have -not always been so wise nor so happy. He has declared himself in favor -of a restricted suffrage, which at present means, for his own people, -nothing less than complete loss of representation--indeed it is only in -that connection that the question has been seriously mooted; and he has -advised them to go slow in seeking to enforce their civil and political -rights, which, in effect, means silent submission to injustice. Southern -white men may applaud this advice as wise, because it fits in with their -purposes; but Senator McEnery of Louisiana, in a recent article in the -_Independent_, voices the Southern white opinion of such acquiescence -when he says: "What other race would have submitted so many years to -slavery without complaint? _What other race would have submitted so -quietly to disfranchisement?_ These facts stamp his [the Negro's] -inferiority to the white race." The time to philosophize about the good -there is in evil, is not while its correction is still possible, but, if -at all, after all hope of correction is past. Until then it calls for -nothing but rigorous condemnation. To try to read any good thing into -these fraudulent Southern constitutions, or to accept them as an -accomplished fact, is to condone a crime against one's race. Those who -commit crime should bear the odium. It is not a pleasing spectacle to -see the robbed applaud the robber. Silence were better. - -It has become fashionable to question the wisdom of the Fifteenth -Amendment. I believe it to have been an act of the highest -statesmanship, based upon the fundamental idea of this Republic, -entirely justified by conditions; experimental in its nature, perhaps, -as every new thing must be, but just in principle; a choice between -methods, of which it seemed to the great statesmen of that epoch the -wisest and the best, and essentially the most just, bearing in mind the -interests of the freedmen and the Nation, as well as the feelings of the -Southern whites; never fairly tried, and therefore, not yet to be justly -condemned. Not one of those who condemn it, has been able, even in the -light of subsequent events, to suggest a better method by which the -liberty and civil rights of the freedmen and their descendants could -have been protected. Its abandonment, as I have shown, leaves this -liberty and these rights frankly without any guaranteed protection. All -the education which philanthropy or the State could offer as a -_substitute_ for equality of rights, would be a poor exchange; there is -no defensible reason why they should not go hand in hand, each -encouraging and strengthening the other. The education which one can -demand as a right is likely to do more good than the education for which -one must sue as a favor. - -The chief argument against Negro suffrage, the insistently proclaimed -argument, worn threadbare in Congress, on the platform, in the pulpit, -in the press, in poetry, in fiction, in impassioned rhetoric, is the -reconstruction period. And yet the evils of that period were due far -more to the venality and indifference of white men than to the -incapacity of black voters. The revised Southern constitutions adopted -under reconstruction reveal a higher statesmanship than any which -preceded or have followed them, and prove that the freed voters could as -easily have been led into the paths of civic righteousness as into those -of misgovernment. Certain it is that under reconstruction the civil and -political rights of all men were more secure in those States than they -have ever been since. We will hear less of the evils of reconstruction, -now that the bugaboo has served its purpose by disfranchising the Negro. -It will be laid aside for a time while the nation discusses the -political corruption of great cities; the scandalous conditions in Rhode -Island; the evils attending reconstruction in the Philippines, and the -scandals in the postoffice department--for none of which, by the way, is -the Negro charged with any responsibility, and for none of which is the -restriction of the suffrage a remedy seriously proposed. Rhode Island is -indeed the only Northern State which has a property qualification for -the franchise! - -There are three tribunals to which the colored people may justly appeal -for the protection of their rights: the United States Courts, Congress -and public opinion. At present all three seem mainly indifferent to any -question of human rights under the Constitution. Indeed, Congress and -the Courts merely follow public opinion, seldom lead it. Congress never -enacts a measure which is believed to oppose public opinion;--your -Congressman keeps his ear to the ground. The high, serene atmosphere of -the Courts is not impervious to its voice; they rarely enforce a law -contrary to public opinion, even the Supreme Court being able, as -Charles Sumner once put it, to find a reason for every decision it may -wish to render; or, as experience has shown, a method to evade any -question which it cannot decently decide in accordance with public -opinion. The art of straddling is not confined to the political arena. -The Southern situation has been well described by a colored editor in -Richmond: "When we seek relief at the hands of Congress, we are informed -that our plea involves a legal question, and we are referred to the -Courts. When we appeal to the Courts, we are gravely told that the -question is a political one, and that we must go to Congress. When -Congress enacts remedial legislation, our enemies take it to the Supreme -Court, which promptly declares it unconstitutional." The Negro might -chase his rights round and round this circle until the end of time, -without finding any relief. - -Yet the Constitution is clear and unequivocal in its terms, and no -Supreme Court can indefinitely continue to construe it as meaning -anything but what it says. This Court should be bombarded with suits -until it makes some definite pronouncement, one way or the other, on the -broad question of the constitutionality of the disfranchising -Constitutions of the Southern States. The Negro and his friends will -then have a clean-cut issue to take to the forum of public opinion, and -a distinct ground upon which to demand legislation for the enforcement -of the Federal Constitution. The case from Alabama was carried to the -Supreme Court expressly to determine the constitutionality of the -Alabama Constitution. The Court declared itself without jurisdiction, -and in the same breath went into the merits of the case far enough to -deny relief, without passing upon the real issue. Had it said, as it -might with absolute justice and perfect propriety, that the Alabama -Constitution is a bold and impudent violation of the Fifteenth -Amendment, the purpose of the lawsuit would have been accomplished and a -righteous cause vastly strengthened. But public opinion cannot remain -permanently indifferent to so vital a question. The agitation is already -on. It is at present largely academic, but is slowly and resistlessly, -forcing itself into politics, which is the medium through which -republics settle such questions. It cannot much longer be contemptuously -or indifferently elbowed aside. The South itself seems bent upon forcing -the question to an issue, as, by its arrogant assumptions, it brought on -the Civil War. From that section, too, there come now and then, side by -side with tales of Southern outrage, excusing voices, which at the same -time are accusing voices; which admit that the white South is dealing -with the Negro unjustly and unwisely; that the Golden Rule has been -forgotten; that the interests of white men alone have been taken into -account, and that their true interests as well are being sacrificed. -There is a silent white South, uneasy in conscience, darkened in -counsel, groping for the light, and willing to do the right. They are as -yet a feeble folk, their voices scarcely audible above the clamor of the -mob. May their convictions ripen into wisdom, and may their numbers and -their courage increase! If the class of Southern white men of whom Judge -Jones of Alabama, is so noble a representative, are supported and -encouraged by a righteous public opinion at the North, they may, in -time, become the dominant white South, and we may then look for wisdom -and justice in the place where, so far as the Negro is concerned, they -now seem well-nigh strangers. But even these gentlemen will do well to -bear in mind that so long as they discriminate in any way against the -Negro's equality of right, so long do they set class against class and -open the door to every sort of discrimination, there can be no middle -ground between justice and injustice, between the citizen and the serf. - -It is not likely that the North, upon the sober second thought, will -permit the dearly-bought results of the Civil War to be nullified by any -change in the Constitution. So long as the Fifteenth Amendment stands, -the _rights_ of colored citizens are ultimately secure. There were -would-be despots in England after the granting of Magna Charta; but it -outlived them all, and the liberties of the English people are secure. -There was slavery in this land after the Declaration of Independence, -yet the faces of those who love liberty have ever turned to that -immortal document. So will the Constitution and its principles outlive -the prejudices which would seek to overthrow it. - -What colored men of the South can do to secure their citizenship to-day, -or in the immediate future, is not very clear. Their utterances on -political questions, unless they be to concede away the political rights -of their race, or to soothe the consciences of white men by suggesting -that the problem is insoluble except by some slow remedial process which -will become effectual only in the distant future, are received with -scant respect--could scarcely, indeed, be otherwise received, without a -voting constituency to back them up,--and must be cautiously made, lest -they meet an actively hostile reception. But there are many colored men -at the North, where their civil and political rights in the main are -respected. There every honest man has a vote, which he may freely cast, -and which is reasonably sure to be fairly counted. When this race -develops a sufficient power of combination, under adequate -leadership,--and there are signs already that this time is near at -hand,--the Northern vote can be wielded irresistibly for the defense of -the rights of their Southern brethren. - -In the meantime the Northern colored men have the right of free speech, -and they should never cease to demand their rights, to clamor for them, -to guard them jealously, and insistently to invoke law and public -sentiment to maintain them. He who would be free must learn to protect -his freedom. - -Eternal vigilance is the price of liberty. He who would be respected -must respect himself. The best friend of the Negro is he who would -rather see, within the borders of this republic one million free -citizens of that race, equal before the law, than ten million cringing -serfs existing by a contemptuous sufferance. A race that is willing to -survive upon any other terms is scarcely worthy of consideration. - -The direct remedy for the disfranchisement of the Negro lies through -political action. One scarcely sees the philosophy of distinguishing -between a civil and a political right. But the Supreme Court has -recognized this distinction and has designated Congress as the power to -right a political wrong. The Fifteenth Amendment gives Congress power to -enforce its provisions. The power would seem to be inherent in -government itself; but anticipating that the enforcement of the -Amendment might involve difficulty, they made the supererogatory -declaration. Moreover, they went further, and passed laws by which they -provided for such enforcement. These the Supreme Court has so far -declared insufficient. It is for Congress to make more laws. It is for -colored men and for white men who are not content to see the -blood-bought results of the Civil War nullified, to urge and direct -public opinion to the point where it will demand stringent legislation -to enforce the Fourteenth and Fifteenth Amendments. This demand will -rest in law, in morals and in true statesmanship; no difficulties -attending it could be worse than the present ignoble attitude of the -Nation toward its own laws and its own ideals--without courage to -enforce them, without conscience to change them, the United States -presents the spectacle of a Nation drifting aimlessly, so far as this -vital, National problem is concerned, upon the sea of irresolution, -toward the maelstrom of anarchy. - -The right of Congress, under the Fourteenth Amendment, to reduce -Southern representation can hardly be disputed. But Congress has a -simpler and more direct method to accomplish the same end. It is the -sole judge of the qualifications of its own members, and the sole -judge of whether any member presenting his credentials has met those -qualifications. It can refuse to seat any member who comes from a -district where voters have been disfranchised; it can judge for itself -whether this has been done, and there is no appeal from its decision. - -If, when it has passed a law, any Court shall refuse to obey its -behests, it can impeach the judges. If any president refuse to lend the -executive arm of the government to the enforcement of the law, it can -impeach the president. No such extreme measures are likely to be -necessary for the enforcement of the Fourteenth and Fifteenth -Amendments--and the Thirteenth, which is also threatened--but they are -mentioned as showing that Congress is supreme; and Congress proceeds, -the House directly, the Senate indirectly, from the people and is -governed by public opinion. If the reduction of Southern representation -were to be regarded in the light of a bargain by which the Fifteenth -Amendment was surrendered, then it might prove fatal to liberty. If it -be inflicted as a punishment and a warning, to be followed by more -drastic measures if not sufficient, it would serve a useful purpose. The -Fifteenth Amendment declares that the right to vote _shall not_ be -denied or abridged on account of color; and any measure adopted by -Congress should look to that end. Only as the power to injure the Negro -in Congress is reduced thereby, would a reduction of representation -protect the Negro; without other measures it would still leave him in -the hands of the Southern whites, who could safely be trusted to make -him pay for their humiliation. - -Finally, there is, somewhere in the Universe a "Power that works for -righteousness," and that leads men to do justice to one another. To this -power, working upon the hearts and consciences of men, the Negro can -always appeal. He has the right upon his side, and in the end the right -will prevail. The Negro will, in time, attain to full manhood and -citizenship throughout the United States. No better guaranty of this is -needed than a comparison of his present with his past. Toward this he -must do his part, as lies within his power and his opportunity. But it -will be, after all, largely a white man's conflict, fought out in the -forum of the public conscience. The Negro, though eager enough when -opportunity offered, had comparatively little to do with the abolition -of slavery, which was a vastly more formidable task than will be the -enforcement of the Fifteenth Amendment. - -_The Negro Problem_, 1903 - - - -***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WIFE OF HIS YOUTH AND OTHER -STORIES OF THE COLOR LINE, AND SELECTED ESSAYS*** - - -******* This file should be named 11057.txt or 11057.zip ******* - - -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: -https://www.gutenberg.org/1/1/0/5/11057 - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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