HD WIDENER
HW QS4M
0
HOPE'S
HIGHWAY
SARAH LEE BROWN FLEMINO


HOPE'S HIGHWAY
A Novel











FOREWORD
I have gained much information regarding
the achievements and political status of the
black man in America, and beyond the seas,
from "The African Abroad,” by William H.
Ferris, A. M.
S. L. B. F.


HOPE'S HIGHWAY
CHAPTER I
SANTA MARIA
BEAUTIFUL Santa Maria, land of the gods that
nestles beneath wondrously blue skies, lies upon
a luxurious carpet of green, on a prominence
overlooking,—as did Psyche of the myths in her
liquid mirror of old,—the limpid Bay of Joan.
In the seventeenth century wealthy Spaniards
had come over here in large numbers from the
Old World and, because of its seclusion, had
chosen this heavenly spot for a home. Across
the bay was to be seen another ideal place,
Santa Barbara, where to-day only the ruins of
a once most extensive cotton plantation remain
to show the existence of former grandeur.
Negro men and women may be seen working in
the fields, which show a few patches of cultiva-
tion. Rickety cabins, scattered thickly here and
there, tell the tale of the passing of the masters
of this once thriving island and of the reign of
the Blacks; for investigation will show that no
white man lives there now.
11


12
HOPE'S HIGHWAY
In Santa Maria may also be seen ruins of an
old monastery, built by the Spaniards in the
seventeenth century. After the state became
a part of the Union, and the Spaniards gradu-
ally dispersed, other settlers came to this se-
cluded spot, which, until the Emancipation, was
one of the most aristocratic plantation settle-
ments of the whole South. And in those days
cabin life of the better sort was a conspicuous
feature of beautiful Santa Maria and of its
neighbor, Santa Barbara. It seemed the pur-
pose of the owners of the Blacks to have this
the one place where slavery was of a higher
order,-if degrees of serfdom be possible.
The approach to Santa Maria was very beau-
tiful. Imagine a shell-road of great length and
width, lined on either side with drooping wil-
lows, moss-laden, some interlocking, form-
ing spacious arches, and others opening suffi-
ciently at the top to let in the Southern sun-
light in all its regal splendor. The effect was
almost fairylike. And to add enchantment to
the scene, one could for an instant imagine these
drooping willows bowing, as it were, most
hospitably to the traveler, as if ushering him
on and on to the resplendent glories of Santa
Maria.
In the days of its glory,-after the traveler
had left the willows behind,-imposing resi-


SANTA MARIA
13
dences might be seen as far as the eye could
reach.
From the quarters, on summer nights, planta-
tion melodies were wafted on balmy breezes,
and, as one drew nearer, crooning lullabies,
sung by dusky mothers, could be heard,-lulla-
bies so full of rest and hope.
Honey, take yo’res, on yo' mamme's breas',
See dat light,-a-fadin’’mong de pine trees in de wes',
Yes; de day is gone, night is comin' on,
Darksome night mus' come to us befo' another dawn.
Whippo'will is callin', -callin' to his mate;
Mockin'-bird is callin', too;
Pine trees is a-sighin', babies is a-cryin',
As de darksome night is passin' through.
Go to sleep, ma little baby, go to sleep;
Shut yo’ weary eyelids, an' don' you weep;
Sleep an' take yo’ res', on yo' mamme's breas',
Night can never harm you here.
Honey, don' you see, dat it's got to be:
Day an' night, yes, day an' night, till yo' spirit's free;
Den you'll quit ma breas' fur to go an' res'
Wid another who can keep you safe from harm de bes'.
Masters here were more or less kind to their
slaves, and, consequently, their reputation for
gentleness spread far and wide. At the slave
market one might observe a striking evidence
of this; for whenever a buyer from Santa Maria
or Santa Barbara came along, every slave
showed up at his best upon the auction block.
When the deathknell to slavery was sounded
and Lincoln signed the great Emancipation


14
HOPE'S HIGHWAY
Proclamation,—which spelled Liberty for mil-
lions of slaves,—a great many of the Blacks in
Santa Maria and Santa Barbara remained with
their owners.
Of these slaveholders, John Vance,-re-
garded as one of the wealthiest in this realm,-
freed and educated one of his loyal servitors,
with the idea that, should the freedom that the
bondmen craved come to them, he could impart
to his people some of the essentials necessary
for a recently emancipated race to understand.
Thus, Enoch Vance, taking his master's name,
attracted much attention by his application and
brilliancy at a Western university and returned
to his former owner at the announcement of
Freedom. Fortunately, he arrived in Santa
Maria a few months before his benefactor's
death.
John Vance, because of the manumission of
the Negroes, had lost some of his vast fortune,
but in his great generosity, he left nearly half
of what was left for the education of the
Blacks, whom slavery had kept so long in igno-
rance.
Upon his deathbed he sent for his former
slave.
“Go,” said he to Enoch, "and upon the land
I shall give you, at the entrance of this beauti-
ful Santa Maria,-land that I love so well,
facing the drooping willows and the shell-road,


CHAPTER II
JOHN VANCE
John VANCE's name was held in reverence by
every Negro in and around Santa Maria. How
many Black men and women in slavery had
heard of this good man and prayed that some
day they might become his property! Often, on
moonlight nights, he would listen to the singing
of his slaves, as they sat in their cabin doors,
voicing the familiar plantation melodies, the
effect of which was marvelous,—as it passed
from door to door on the balmy breezes. One
song that particularly pleased their master
was:
Lord, I'd rather go to Glory, Lord, I'd rather go to Glory,
Lord, I'd rather go to Glory, than to leave this master kind.
John Vance was in the habit of visiting his
slaves in their cabins, he would talk with them,
and thus he became a part of their lives. He
never had occasion to whip a slave, never kept
an overseer, neither did he ever have a run-
away. When a slave became in any way ob-
stinate or unruly, the master would only have
16


JOHN VANCE
17
to suggest in a kindly way, that perhaps the
bondman would like another master; and, al-
most invariably, he would get the result he
desired. He could count upon the fingers of one
hand,-out of a thousand or more slaves that he
owned,—the few cases he could not handle.
Being of a very sympathetic nature, he often
wanted to help many a one who yearned for an
education; for if there was any aristocrat in
the South who desired to change the existing
laws regarding educating slaves, John Vance
truly was one. As soon as freedom came, he
secured teachers for those of the adults that
desired to learn, while the children were com-
pelled to spend a certain number of hours each
day in the schoolroom. Indeed, his was the first
institute for Blacks in the South, being the fore-
runner of the many organizations that were
established for this race by loyal Northern sup-
porters.
The young Negro lad, Enoch, whom John
Vance specially favored, was born upon the
Vance plantation, as was his mother. His
father had been bought by Vance from a neigh-
boring slaveholder,—who had lost heavily in
speculation. The father of Enoch had courted
and married Enoch's mother; and when the son
was born his mother felt that the boy was des-
tined to be a Moses to his people.
Knowing how Enoch's mother yearned for an


18
HOPE'S HIGHWAY
education, and seeing the same desire mani-
fested by the lad, John Vance hoped that he
might be able to start him on the road of knowl-
edge. He was fortunately able to do this, by
giving the lad his freedom and sending him to
that greatest of Western colleges, which has
ever held and which still holds open the “Door
of Hope" to all who would enter therein. Thus
Enoch developed into a true leader of his peo-
ple, for he was the first Negro qualified to teach
the Blacks in the South after Emancipation.
When John Vance lay dead in the Big House,
Negroes came from far and near to view the
abode of this true lover of humanity. Many,
too poor to buy flowers, wrought wreaths out
of wild flowers and lay them at the entrance
of the Big House. Children could be seen strew-
ing flowers in the familiar spots and along the
roads he frequented. Men and women wept
like babies, as from their cabins they saw the
body of their dearest friend borne to its final
resting-place.
After the closing up of the Big House, the
late owner's widowed sister, who had made her
home with him, returned North to her hus-
band's people. The division of his lands was
made according to John Vance's dying wish,
which gave his belongings to the ex-slaves that
had served him faithfully. And these same


.
JOHN VANCE
people, by their frugality, became the hope of
the South, while by their efforts great business
enterprises were launched,,enterprises that
to-day, together with the Institute, are the
pride of the Black South.
This institute was a haven for the Negro.
Located picturesquely at the entrance of Santa
Maria and overlooking the Bay of Joan, it
seemed almost a temple in a land of promise,
and, flocking to its doors, came from all parts
of the world, those eager to learn.
Enoch first made the curriculum cover those
things that his people most needed,-agricul-
ture and manual training; for he was aware
that a people just emerging from slavery could
need nothing more than the rudiments of edu-
cation. As time advanced, however, other de-
partments were added, and finally from the
Leader's school emerged men and women fitted
for every vocation in life.
The Leader was heralded far and wide for
his great achievements. Even abroad he was
talked of, and educators of distant lands visited
his institute, for the purpose of studying his
methods of instruction. Great men from differ-
ent parts of the country either gave their sup-
port financially or otherwise to the Vance In-
stitute, and from its example other schools
sprang up, heralding, as did their Alma Mater,
“Higher education for the Black man."


20
HOPE'S HIGHWAY
This system of enlightenment in the course of
time became unpopular with a certain element
in the South, an element that crowded in after
slavery from the mountainous districts to the
west of Santa Maria, or that came in by immi-
gration. And, as the slaveholding aristocracy
passed out by death or migration, these people
became leading figures, soon wielding the politi-
cal ax that chopped down all things that were
unfavorable to them,-among them, the political
status of the Negro, whom they considered to
be growing too powerful. Throughout the
South, state after state disfranchised the
Blacks and decreed against higher education
for them. Thus, because of legislative inter-
ference, the great ambition of the Leader's life
was blighted.
Joe Vardam, an enemy to the cause of the
Blacks, worked his way forward politically,
fighting with tooth and nail to have the whole
educational curriculum changed, so far as
higher education for Blacks was concerned.
Realizing that he was utterly powerless to
contend with this powerful demagogue, the
Leader was compelled to bend to his will and
strike out from his course of study psychology,
sociology, comparative literature, law, theology,
mathematics, and the classics.
“We don't want any Niggers reading Latin
and Greek,” Joe Vardam would say. “Soon


CHAPTER III
GRACE ENNERY
PHILLIP ENNERY, a boyhood chum of John
Vance's, was one of the great plantation own-
ers in the prosperous days of Santa Maria.
Phillip had two sons, one of whom, Francis, at
his mother's death, left the South, when still a
young man, with his share of the Ennery for-
tune, and entered the brokerage business in
New York City. In the course of time he met a
beautiful young woman, of Boston's most ex-
clusive circle, and married her. She did not
live long after the birth of her daughter Grace,
and Francis Ennery was left a widower in New
York with a little daughter of five years to look
after.
Grace's maternal grandmother, who lived in
Boston, was an invalid, and her uncle John
Ennery had never married; thus the dear little
girl, for a time after her mother's death, was
dependent upon strangers. This fact was a
source of some worry to her grandmother, who
realized that, unless she could arrange to have
the child under her guidance,-even though she
were disabled, that the little girl would be
22


24
HOPE'S HIGHWAY
Much enthused was she when she was told
of the Battle of Bunker Hill, and how her great-
great-grandfather had died in defense of the
rights of the colonists and how her grandfather
defended the rights of the slaves, taking an ac-
tive part in the working of the famous “Under-
ground Railroad.” The story of how he helped
them escape from their cruel masters in the
South greatly interested her young mind.
Grace never grew weary of listening to the
sorrows of the Blacks, and ofttimes she would
say to Charlotte, her governess:
"Take me where I may see these people that
Grandpa helped to get away from their bad
masters. And, Charlotte, show me a man like
Uncle Tom who was so good to little Eva."
As Grace grew to womanhood, she never for-
got these pictures that her grandmother painted
for her in such glowing colors. The Negro,
wherever she met him, felt the sympathetic
spirit for his sufferings that animated the girl.
The years flew rapidly by, and with them
Grace grew, of course. Francis Ennery often
came to see his daughter, who began to look
more and more like her dead mother each day.
At the suggestion of her grandmother, who was
gradually declining, the father decided to
send the child to a select boarding-school, as
she was now twelve years of age. The day
Grace bade her dear grandmother good-by was


Ως
:
HOPPς HTαΙΙΧΙΛν
one, too; but he never filled that void, or satis-
fied an instinct that lay hidden within her soul.
And because of her warmth of feeling and her
passionate yearnings, it was a wonder that the
suppression of her longing did not make her
sad and pensive, and thus embitter her youth-
ful existence. Grace, however, possessed an in-
domitable will, coupled with a courageous heart,
which kept her from ever wincing. Hence there
bloomed into womanhood, under the faithful
guidance of the teachers of Saint Agnes school
at Lynhurst, a girl who developed the most
beautiful character,—noble, strong, and modest.
After her graduation, Grace was sent abroad
to study art,--for which she had formed a de-
cided talent,-chaperoned by one of her instruc-
tors, who also desired to make further studies
in the same field. Miss Arnold, who was very
much attached to Grace, made a pleasant trav-
eling companion, and two delightful years were
spent studying the old masters in the different
countries of Europe.
One morning a most unexpected thing hap-
pened,-Grace received a cablegram announcing
that her father had been advised by his physi-
cian to drop his business cares and responsibili-
ties for the present and take a trip around the
world, and that he wished to see her before
sailing for the Orient, by way of the Mediter-
ranean.


GRACE ENNERY
27
On Grace's receiving this news, Miss Arnold
comforted her and assisted her in every possi-
ble way so that nothing might delay her depar-
ture. And Grace, after being placed in the care
of good friends, was on her way to America.
She reached home just before her father
sailed for Greece and Egypt. In one of his last
talks with her he said:
“As I look upon your face, you so remind
me of your dead mother, with your fluffy golden
hair and large blue eyes. I pray that you may
develop into the noble woman she was. Remem-
ber always, Grace, that you were her idol. I
dislike to leave you at this time, when I know
you should have me with you; but I must bow
to my physician's command. You have an uncle
in the South, in beautiful Santa Maria, where I
was born. I hope upon my return from the
East to gaze once more upon those moss-laden
willows, under which I had my first boyish
dreams.
“All alone in a great house he lives, upon a
plantation where once your grandfather held
numerous slaves. He writes that you must pay
him a visit soon, when you will see one of na-
ture's enchanting spots.
“I have made my home with the Grants for
a number of years, and they have been very
kind to me. If you do not return to your
studies, make your home with them: I am sure


CHAPTER IV
THE LEADER'S FUNERAL
frousessions as his place is will suck on him
THE Leader of his people lay dead, and as
the funeral cortège wound its way into the
peaceful graveyard, to lay at rest all that re-
mained of a once powerful man, one could hear
from the scattered groups of spectators such
expressions as these:
"Who'll take his place?" "We'll now go to
de dogs, for de white folks will surely do us
bad." “Dey done peck on him an' peck on him
till dey done kill him.”
One of the old women began to sing, and
others took up the strain:
De Lord done take our Moses,
De Lord done take our Moses,
De Lord done take our Moses,-
Who we gwine to follow now
Deep into the heart of Tom Brinley sank
these expressions; and, although but a boy of
fifteen years, he was much disturbed. He sud-
denly felt the weight of a people upon his
shoulders, and an irresistible impulse seized
him to answer these poor dependent people.
29


THE LEADER'S FUNERAL
31
Some kind-hearted men picked him up and
carried him to his home, which was not very
far off. “What of his assailants?" you ask.
This class compose the criminal element of the
South. Many of the lynchings in that region
are occasioned by the misdeeds of some one of
this idle class of Negroes, who care little or
nothing about leaders or rights. Then, too, the
laws of the South had become so lax in the
matter of offenses perpetrated by Blacks
against Blacks that it was useless to complain.
Grace Ennery, who was a witness to all that
had happened, followed the limp body of little
Tom to his mother's cabin of two rooms.
Tom's mother was a quiet, sympathetic wom-
an of about forty, with large, glowing eyes, and
a slightly bent frame, which told of much
drudgery.
“Tom truly has her eyes,” thought Grace, as
she looked upon the mother. When the men
who carried Tom told of what had happened,
her reply was:
“Tom's always bein' pecked on. Folks don'
seem to understan' him.”
Upon a clean but humble bed they placed the
little lad. Grace Ennery assisted in bringing
him to.
“I shall never forget his deep, soul-stirring
eyes,—so full of purpose,” she remarked to


32
HOPE'S HIGHWAY
friends afterward. “As he came out of his
swoon his first words were:
"All right, Hollow gang, you shall yet call
me “Leader.” Mother, didn't you hear our
Leader say that when he was a little slave boy
he would call the other slave children around
him and tell them that he would some day be a
great man and the leader of his people, and even
they would not believe him?'"
“Yes," replied his mother, softly stroking
his forehead.
“And, Mother,” he continued, “see what a
great man he became.”
Grace Ennery listened to the little fellow
with much interest, and when the crowd had
somewhat disappeared, she asked the mother
if she could be of any further service.
“Lor' bless you, dear lady,” she replied.
“Tom is given to dem fallin' out spells, when-
ever any one hits his head. When he use to
work wid' Mister Joe, he would ofttimes send
for me to ris' Tom out of dem spells, when he
done hit him fur somethin'."
“Will you have those boys punished who
willfully meddled with Tom?'' asked Grace.
“Oh, Miss, you mus' be a stranger here?”
“Yes; I'm from the North.”.
“I thought so, ma'am. De white folks don'
bother 'bout our troubles lessen they can't
help it."


THE LEADER'S FUNERAL 33
“My! That is a very discouraging condi-
tion of affairs."
"Well, ma'am, we are gettin' so used to trou-
ble, dat we don' look for justice till we die, an'
then come judgment day," was the resigned re-
ply.
Grace bade Tom good-by, and slipping a
bill into his mother's hand, said:
“I expect to leave for the North in a few
days, but will see you before I go.”
Tom's mother bowed her visitor out gra-
ciously. It was somewhat new to her to have
a sympathetic caller from the opposite race.
The Blacks at this time, owing to the injustice
of Vardam, were so crushed that any white per-
son having any relations with them other than
those of employer and employed was considered
an enemy to the cause of white supremacy.
“Down with the Blacks!” was the slogan of
Vardam and his allies.
Grace, of course, did not know of the senti-
ment regarding the Blacks, and even though
she was the only white woman present, in her
girlish optimism she had not observed it. Hers
was a Divine sympathy, impartial and uncol-
ored.
But, after all, a man's ideals, aspirations,
hopes, and longings are not controlled by the
color of his skin. Does not a brown horse that


CHAPTER V
THE LYNCHING
The next day was Sunday, and after attend-
ing church, Grace had a strong desire to glance
at the grave of the dead Leader. This desire
had been interfered with on the previous day
because of the accident to little Tom.
She had never seen the Leader, yet, even in
the North, his fame had reached her ear and
she had learned to respect him for his achieve-
ments among his people. His success was
greatly appreciated by the North, and his ad-
vice had been sought by men of high as well
as low degree.
Knowing all this, Grace was desirous of see-
ing the mound of dirt under which the body
of this famed Negro rested. So she sauntered
slowly to that spot on the grounds of the great
school that he had established. She was not
known, therefore was not interfered with. But
one cross-looking white man, who, to Grace's
mind, had the look of a man who might have
been a cruel slaveholder (such as she had read
about in “Uncle Tom's Cabin”), stopped her
as she entered the grounds.
35


36
HOPE'S HIGHWAY
Turning around, Grace saw a picturesque
but not a very prepossessing-looking individual,
-a tall, raw-boned, and sinewy individual of
about fifty, with a wide-brimmed slouch hat,
tilted on one side; a long coat, and trousers
tucked in leather boots, who walked with a long,
swinging stride and spoke with a slow South-
ern drawl. But if his figure and attire were
striking, his face was not attractive. Grace
found herself looking into a pair of fierce devil-
ish black eyes that gleamed beneath shaggy
eyebrows. Besides these eyes she saw a decid-
edly hooked nose, which surmounted a thin,
cruel mouth, and a long jaw, which was covered
with a beard of medium growth.
But if the face was evil and sinister in re-
pose, it took on added malignity as the man
smiled sardonically. Plainly, here was a man
with executive and administrative ability, with
power to dominate the ignorant masses; a man
possessed of a selfish, cruel naturė.
“Say, miss,” he said, “ain't you 'fraid to
be travelin'in these Nigger haunts ?”.
“No," answered Grace, somewhat indignant.
“So far you have been my only annoyance.”
“Is that so?” was his surly query. “I guess
you don't know who I am."
“Perhaps I don't, and neither do I care to
know who you are, even if you were the gov-
ernor."


38
HOPE'S HIGHWAY
Grace continued:
“Did you go to his school?”
“Yessum,” he replied again, still not taking
his eyes away from the grave.
“He must have been a very wonderful man
to impress you so strongly. I hope some day
you will be as great and influential a man as
he was."
“I will, ma'am, if Joe Vardam don't turn de
hose on me as he did the Leader."
“Who is Joe Vardam?”
“Didn't you pass a man when you come in
de school?'
“Yes, I remember that I did."
“Well, dat's de one, ma'am, who would kill
us all up if he could. He's powerfully strong,
missus."
“So he interfered with the progress of the
school?”
“Yessum. Folks call him ‘Goliath' here, and
they is all 'fraid of him."
“I hope he may some day meet his David,
Tom,' retorted Grace with earnestness.
The chapel bell tolled two, and Grace arose
to go, bidding Tom, who still was looking ad-
miringly at the flowers, good-by. She told him
that she would be leaving for her Northern
home soon, but would see both him and his
mother before she left.


40
HOPE'S HIGHWAY
upturned faces it seemed as if the spirit of
humanity had fled from that mob and that in
its stead a living devil was implanted. “Oh!'
thought I, 'I cannot dwell another night among
these people.' So, in my excitement, I packed
my grip and went to the office to settle my bill.
After having done so, and while waiting for
transportation to the depot, I encountered the
same man whom I had met on the previous
day. He quickly recognized me and said with
a laugh:
"'I am sure glad you are going, miss; for
we will certainly have to string up another
Nigger to-morrow.' Then he gave a fiendish
chuckle and passed on.”
Grace never bore any hatred in her heart for
any one, but this man, Joe Vardam, had created
within her a most uncomfortable feeling.
A few moments after her encounter with him
she was whirled off to the depot. Reaching
there, she found that she had leisure on her
hands before her train was due. She wondered
just how to pass away the time. She wanted
to talk with a real sympathizer, or with one,
who, even if he were not a sympathizer, pos-
sessed a tinge of respect for his community and
had ideals. Looking around the partly filled
depot, she saw no promise in the faces of those
around her. Her eye was attracted toward the
door, and there she saw an immaculately


THE LYNCHING
dressed man of middle age,-tall and symmetri-
cal of frame,—with the air of a born aristocrat.
He was ushered in by a black lad who seemed
to be showing him every attention. After he
had arranged for his baggage, the lad left him,
courteously bowing.
“Surely,” thought Grace, “this is a man I
can talk to,-one from whom I may gain infor-
mation regarding these parts that no one whom
I have yet seen would willingly give me.”
Before he had espied her, she arose, and as
the bench upon which he sat had only one other
occupant, she quickly sat there, waiting for an
opportunity to speak.
The aristocrat, as soon as his eyes rested
upon Grace, regarded her with deep interest.
“Pardon me,” he said; "are you an En-
nery?”
“Yes,” she quietly replied, fearful lest he
might discern her eagerness to talk.
“You came here, I suppose, to visit your
- "he paused.
“Uncle," Grace quickly replied.
“Oh, yes,” said he; “then Francis was your
father? We were boys together, and our par-
ents were good friends."
Grace found herself drawing very near to the
opportunity for which she longed,—to be able
to glean the information she desired.


CHAPTER VI
SANTA MARI
PAST AND PRESENT
“I AM so glad to hear you talk thus,” re-
marked Grace. “If it would not seem inquisi-
tive, I wish you would tell me why the Blacks
have so little protection in a country so unique
in its Republican form of government. I have
always loved my country, and even though I
knew conditions were not so very good in the
South, I did not understand it to be a condi-
tion that resulted from gross injustice on the
part of my people towards a people powerless
to protect themselves.”
“My dear Miss Ennery, you are too con-
scientious in this matter, I fear. We all would
like to see the millennium if we could but the
world is not ready for it yet."
“We may not be ready for the millennium,”
interrupted Grace, “but we should at all times
use our consciences. Right is right, sir. Oh,
pardon me if I have been too bold. Of course
you know that I am a Northerner, and while,
for so young a woman, I may express myself
in too frank terms regarding my attitude
43


44
HOPE'S HIGHWAY
toward your treatment of the Blacks here, yet
I feel that I am justified because they are hu-
man beings and our brothers; and we are our
brothers' keepers.”
Mr. Garrett assured Grace that she was jus-
tified in all she had said, and that her view
was no different from that of the average
Northerner. Yet even the Northerner, he went
on, after residing in the South for a time, often
became more bitter in his attitude toward the
Blacks than were those that had always lived
there.
Along came the train, and emerging from
some inconspicuous corner, the black boy, who
assisted Mr. Garrett some time before, came
forward to be of further service to his em-
ployer. Mr. Garrett, speaking very kindly,
bade him take Grace's luggage to the car and
arrange her comfortably.
At parting with her recent acquaintance,
Grace said:
“I thank you so much, sir, for your patience
in answering my questions. I shall go away
with a different impression than I would have
had had I not met you."
“You flatter me, Miss Ennery. I am the one
who has been benefited. I would like to, at this
moment,-if I had the power,—make such laws
as would give every black man, woman, and
child better protection. Since we have had this
1
'


PAST AND PRESENT
45
daught.t. Garrettherself
pleasant little chat, and also since your father
and I are good friends,-also your uncle,-I
trust you may give me the privilege of hunting
you up on the train, and continuing this con-
versation, if it is agreeable to you."
“I shall be delighted,” replied Grace.
So, giving her one of his cards, the old aris-
tocrat handed her over to his body-servant, who
courteously escorted her to her seat.
The car was well on its way to the North, and
Grace had settled herself quite comfortably,
when Mr. Garrett found his childhood chum's
daughter. Grace was much impressed with her
new-found friend, and waited, with profound
anticipation, to hear what of interest he had to
tell her.
Before delving into the all-important ques-
tion, he told her that he was on his way to the
governor of the State to report on the recent
lynching, which was a great source of grief to
the committee of which he was a member. This
committee, he further stated, consisted of a
group of men, selected by the governor, who
met after such disturbances as lynchings and
riots, passed judgment upon them, and reported
their findings to the governor.
“Why can you not stop such riots before
they go as far as they did this afternoon?”
“A lynching-bee is often gotten up so sud-
denly that frequently in one hour it is both


46
HOPE'S HIGHWAY
planned and executed. When we are able to
jail the victim, we are more likely to protect his
body."
“Please tell me,” Grace asked, “how things
ever developed to this state of affairs, in this
beautiful settlement, where nature's artist has
painted so lavishly, the skies, the bay, and the
trees, and where everything is bathed in an
atmosphere of serenity.”
Settling himself comfortably and clearing his
throat so that he might be distinctly heard
above the rumbling of the train, Seward Gar-
rett began:
“In 1870 the Negro was given the ballot in
this State. About that time a Negro was made
secretary of the State. A number of colored
men also went to Congress. Negro legislators
held regal sway in the capitol, with their ma-
hogany tables, Brussels carpets, and Dresden
china cuspidors. At the change of administra-
tion, in 1876, the Federal troops that protected
the rights of the Negro were withdrawn from
this State, and when other complications came
up between Republicans and Democrats, the
Southern Confederates took possession of the
State capitol by force. Then came the Ku-
klux Klans. They were oath-bound societies,
the members disguised with masks and armed
to the teeth. They rode at night, committed
depredations, and did their bloody work. They


48
HOPE'S HIGHWAY
cruel, man must at all times, to develop the
highest within him, be a free agent. Oh,'tis
all wrong, all wrong!”.
“It may be, but time will tell. And remem-
ber, Miss Ennery, the worst enemies of the
Blacks are not the descendants of their former
owners, but a class of poor whites who have
pushed in from the mountains, and who never
knew of them, other than that they crowded
them out of a livelihood, by having the monop-
oly of service. This condition, of course, kept
them very poor, barely above starvation; hence
this is the cause of their intense prejudice.
These people prospered after Emancipation,
and to-day are the life, politically and commer-
cially, of the South. The Negro, it is true, was
caught in a mesh that he is still untangling. It
is evident that the only satisfactory solution
will be for him to find his own way out."
“But how can he do this, without the pro-
tection that his country should offer?"
“I don't know, but he must do it some way,
Miss Ennery. We Anglo-Saxons surely must
have found an opportunity to wedge our way
out of the conditions that we first faced gen-
erations ago."
“Yes, I know, Mr. Garrett; but these people
have a far greater fight than our Anglo-Saxon
ancestors had. Saddest of all are the distinct
physical characteristics, so unlike ours, that


GRACE ENNERY'S RETURN
53
maid announced the fact that the same Nigger
who called the other evening was at the door.
"Tell him I don't care to see him, and I
don't want him to be ringing my front-door
bell again or I'll have him arrested. Wanting
me to offer a bill to introduce Niggers into the
State militia! Absurd! Niggers with firearms!
I'd sooner trust these emigrants that are pour-
ing in upon our shores.”
The maid left the room while Mr. Grant was
expostulating, and soon Grace heard the front
door close with a bang.
Mr. Grant had entered the political arena,
while the Great War was on, to protect certain
of his Wall Street interests. The war in Eur-
ope being over, this country was facing some
complicated issues.
Emigration seemed to have reached a serious
stage. After the European war, this country,
in its generosity, opened its gates without any
reservation. To this land came various classes
of foreigners to avoid the responsibility that
would devolve upon them of building new homes
in Europe. Upon this country's investigating a
number of plots to blow up various buildings,
it was found that anarchists had come over in
large numbers. So, in order to avoid the dan-
ger that might arise by permitting more of these
anarchistic spirits to infest the country, a ban
was placed upon emigration. This, of course,


56
HOPE'S HIGHWAY
upon a super-stately figure, crowned with a
madonna-like face. Whereupon Grace would
betake herself to her own apartment, unless re-
quested by Mrs. Grant to stay and meet her
distinguished guests. Then she would be agree-
able, because she felt that she must.


58
HOPE'S HIGHWAY
I don't know what your attitude is toward the Negro, but
you may be interested in knowing that the French army has
enlisted many of these black men in the ranks, and the report
is that they make brave soldiers, going into the hottest of the
fray, without reserve or fear.
One herculean black was given a medal of honor a couple of
weeks ago, for his bravery in battle. His physique was magnifi-
cent,--tall, erect of stature, and well proportioned. He im-
pressed one as he stood to receive his degree. The French peo-
ple could not do enough for him. Imagine my attending a ban-
quet in his honor! The French seemed to have forgotten his
color, and spoke only of his valor and bravery.
After all, Grace, I feel that we Americans are too narrow in
our feelings. What difference does it make whether bravery is
garbed in black or white? It is deeper than the skin. It
reaches the soul, and the soul of the good is always white.
I know you have come in touch with these black people of
the South. Tell me your opinion as gained by your trip.
Grace, after reading this interesting letter
from Fred Trower, unconsciously wiped her
eyes, and held the missive to her lips.
“I have decided,” she said half aloud. “I
have decided to act upon my convictions. The
light that I have desired has been given to me."
Immediately she sat down and wrote a letter
to Tom Brinley's mother, in care of the Insti-
tute, as she had failed to get Tom's address
in her excitement in leaving.
Now, in Santa Maria politics had control of
everything. Even the mails of colored people
were continually being tampered with.
It happened that the day Grace's letter
reached Santa Maria, Joe Vardam was loung-
ing around the post office as he usually did. As
his money was made more or less from political


60
HOPE'S HIGHWAY
type. There was nothing too degrading for
him to do in order to gain his ends.
It was whispered that he had beaten his poor
wife to death, and that he drove his son from
home, when the latter would not coöperate with
him in political wrongs. Where the younger
Vardam went no one knew.
It was also whispered that Joe Vardam's
father, a very cruel slaveholder, was killed by
one of his slaves, because he thrashed a woman
slave until she became unconscious. The slave
in turn thrashed him, and when Vardam's
father drew his pistol to shoot him, the slave
wrested it from his hand and shot the master.
Then the homicide gave himself up to the au-
thorities to be dealt with as they saw fit.
Joe Vardam, whether because of the manner
of his father's death was seeking vengeance
or because of the natural cruelty that possessed
him, was relentless wherever a Negro was con-
cerned. For some reason he held a bitter hatred
for the race.
After thinking over the letter during the
night, Joe Vardam determined to place Tom
Brinley where he would never attract atten-
tion. Day after day he walked the streets of
Santa Maria in search of his prey, wishing to
catch him away from his home and surround-
ings. Not many days had passed by when he
found his opportunity. Noticing that the


CHAPTER IX
THE PROPOSAL
Days and weeks passed and still Grace re-
ceived no reply to the letter she had sent. She
could not determine what she was to do next.
In the meantime she still worked at her art, ex-
pending her greatest efforts in the painting of
a likeness of Tom Brinley (as nearly as was
possible), a painting that she named “Pur-
pose.”
A member of the F. N. P. (Federation For
Negro Protection,-a group of influential
Whites and Blacks, formed for the protection
of the rights of the black man in the North and
the South), seeing the picture, asked that it be
loaned for an exhibition that they were about
to give. Grace gladly consented to this, and
the picture was placed in the Gallery of Fine
Arts.
Nanna, the old cook at the de Forests' house,
by way of making it pleasant for Mandy Brin-
ley, asked her to attend the exhibit with her.
This Nanna was a woman who stood for the
highest aims of the Blacks,—with which race
she was identified. Often she would say,
63


64
HOPE'S HIGHWAY
“I'm a cook, an' I'm not ashamed of my
daily occupation, for a good cook must take
pride in her work; yet I would not see all my
people laboring in this field. They must scatter
themselves in all avenues of work, in order to
become a well-rounded, well-developed people.
I am always anxious to know what all my peo-
ple are doing.”
Hence her interest in the exhibit, which
marked an anniversary of progress for her peo-
ple.
The great armory where the exhibition was
held was crowded,—the F. N. P. having also
invited a number of speakers, both white and
black, to talk in behalf of the Negro. The ab-
sorbing themes were, “The Negro In Office,”
“The Negro In Politics," and "The Negro In
The Army."
How Mandy Brinley wished for her Tom;
and in walking about after the great addresses,
she, as if her prayer was answered, came face
to face with a painted reproduction of her Tom.
“O my Jesus!” she cried, “Nanna, here's
my boy,—here's my Tom !”
“Go on, Mandy; you've got your boy on
your mind so you imagine everything is him.”
Grace Ennery and Fred Trower were also
present. They almost passed Tom Brinley's
mother as she turned from the picture in great
grief. Grace in her absorption in other exhib-


THE PROPOSAL
65
its did not see Mandy. But Fred Trower saw
her, and he remarked to himself that the won-
derful eyes of the lad must have made her sad.
Nanna and Mandy returned quietly home,-
Mandy laden with sorrow. Grace and Fred,
after the interesting meeting, sauntered lei-
surely home. They talked of the speakers, espe-
cially the Negro speakers, who knew what their
people needed.
“I am sure Tom Brinley would do equally
as well as any of those speakers, were he given
the opportunity to develop himself,” said
Grace. “It is so strange that I never received
any reply to my first letter to his mother,
and my second was returned to me."
Fred replied:
“Grace, I am afraid you are taking matters
too seriously. Sometimes those whom we
would wish to be worthy are altogether un-
worthy."
“Not so with Tom; he has a strong will, and
I am quite sure that he, although young, has
determined to develop in the direction of his
natural taste and aptitude."
“Now, Grace, I begin to think that you never
intend to devote any of your time to me. Since
I have returned home, you have had this and
that to interfere with our pleasant little chats,
—such as we use to have.”
“Forgive me, Fred, if I have appeared sel-


66
HOPE'S HIGHWAY
fish since you have returned. It is not selfish-
ness; it is really that my life is broader. Un.
expected problems have come before me, and
I am anxious to grapple with them.”
Whether Grace knew it or not, Fred Trower
was in love with her, and had been so even
before she went abroad to study art. When-
ever the desire urged him to say something of
his tenderness to her, her mind seemed always
centered on something else, which made any
declaration of love at that time quite inoppor-
tune.
When they had reached home, Fred asked
Grace. to give him an evening and to promise
him for once not to speak of any of her pet hob-
bies, but to give up the entire time to him.
“It is a small favor, Fred," answered Grace.
“You may have your wish, of course.”
“All right, I shall see you to-morrow eve-
ning. And if Mrs. Grant has company, be pre-
pared for a walk, as these evenings are very
enticing in the open.”
“Very well. Good-night,” said Grace, as
she endeavored to disengage her arm.
Instead of freeing the arm immediately, how-
ever, Fred Trower pressed it gently and looked
into her large blue eyes, which, with upturned
gaze, met his. The look was like the meeting
of two souls,—each read the heart of the other.
Quickly Grace, as if she had committed a mis-


THE PROPOSAL
67
deed, went into the vestibule, remaining there
until the maid admitted her. The maid noticed
a flushed look upon Grace's face, as she thanked
the girl and ran swiftly to her own apartment.
Fred Trower stood for a moment as if glued
to the spot. Then, collecting himself, he turned
and hastened away.
Grace, when she reached her luxuriously ap-
pointed apartment, consisting of bed-room,
private sitting-room, and bath,-yielded to an
irresistible impulse to run to the bay-window of
her sitting-room, which permitted her to see
a distance up the street. There she sat, hat
and coat on, watching pass on under the bright
electric lights the manly, erect form of the
man about whom was now the glamour of a
young girl's love. When he had passed out of
sight she slowly disrobed, and went to bed,
thinking of many things that before this night
had never seriously entered her mind. To-night
Tom Brinley had no place in her young mind.
Hers was a dream of love, with Fred Trower
crowned king.
The next day seemed to two persons the long-
est day upon the calendar; and when the sun
was slowly sinking in the west, two hearts were
beating with gladness.
Grace was ready long before the maid an-
nounced Mr. Trower. Fred was prepared long
before he came. His father noticed the new


68
HOPE'S HIGHWAY
light in Fred's eye, as he closed the lid of his
desk and hurried off, calling back:
“Good-night, Dad.”
His father's look followed him to the door,
and he questioned:
“Something on to-night, Fred?”
But his son was gone.
When the maid did announce the presence
of Fred Trower in the parlors below, the fact
had already been known to Grace some time.
She was seated behind her curtain, on her win-
dow-seat, waiting,-in accordance with the de-
mands of society,—to be told what she already
knew.
Softly she stole downstairs,—so much more
softly than was her custom-and, with an air
of coquettishness, sat opposite her lover. No
word had yet been broken, when Fred, full of
ardor, and not knowing how to free his pent-up
feeling, rose and bent over her, saying:
“Grace, you know it all, do you not? Need I
tell you how tenderly I love you? You do care
for me some, do you not?”.
Grace held her head back, and looking into
Fred's eyes, replied softly:
“Yes, Fred; I think I do."
Then his head bent lower, and their lips met,
after which Fred sat beside Grace, her hand
in his and their heads together. Fred told her
of his great love for her, how he hoped that it


THE PROPOSAL
69
would be reciprocated; he also told her of his
splendid prospects, and asked if she would con-
sent to become his wife.
Grace answered:
“Not yet, Fred. I must do something of
worth before I accept the very tender care that
I know you are capable of giving me. Let me
devote more time to my art before anything
definite is decided.”
“Why, Grace, you have done something!
What more commendation can you wish than
has been given to your pictures,-"Love" and
“Purpose''?
“But that is just a beginning, Fred. Then
there is Tom Brinley. Must I leave him?
Should I not try to find him and help him?"
“Then, may I hope that you may tell me
something definite as to our final plans when
this little colored boy is found? As to your
art, Grace, you can do even better work after
you marry. A woman is better able to express
herself, whatever her sphere in life, after she
marries, because her life includes a broader
scope. About the lad: my father wants me
to look into some cotton interests in the South
soon, and I can extend my trip, visit the In-
stitute, and inquire about the boy."
“Dear Fred, you are so considerate, and I
am so thankful that you will do this. I have


70
HOPE'S HIGHWAY
a peculiar feeling concerning this boy, some
inner prompting that urges me on."
"Well, don't worry any more, Grace. Every-
thing will come out satisfactorily. So you have
really decided to educate this colored lad?”
“Yes, Fred; my desire is to give him an op-
portunity to serve his people."
“I trust that he will prove himself worthy
of your interest.”
“I am sure he will. By the way, Fred, I re-
ceived a letter from my father, who is in Egypt
now. He spoke very highly of you, and much
of his friendship with your father. He says
that his stay will be an extended one, as the
Egyptian climate agrees with him better than
any other that he has been in. He speaks in
glowing terms of the scenery of the Nile, and
has been captivated by the grandeur of Egypt's
monuments. He has seen the pyramids, the
Memnonion Colossi, the Temple of the kings
at Luxor, and the vast Hypostile Hall at Kar-
nak. He also writes that my uncle has joined
him, having attended to his business affairs in
Europe. How glad I shall be when he re-
turns!”
“When I write and tell him of our plans, I
shall insist upon his returning for our wedding,
which I trust will be in the near future."
They finished the evening with happy talk


72
HOPE'S HIGHWAY
her promise, that a date of marriage would be
set as soon as Tom Brinley's future had been
arranged for.
A few weeks later Fred Trower left for the
South.


CHAPTER X
FRED TROWER IN THE SOUTH
AFTER reaching Richmond and arranging
business matters, in accordance with his
father's suggestions, Fred took the train for
further South.
The South was not new to him. He had
been there a number of times, as his father
had various financial interests in different sec-
tions of the country; yet he had never been
there bent on the mission he had now under-
taken,—the search of a poor little brown lad.
All along the road he studied the people,
-especially at the depots, which seemed a ver-
itable “hang-out."
“I wonder," thought he,"if these people will
ever carve out their own destiny? Judging
from these laggards, who seem utterly depend-
ent, one would say not."
These were merely passing thoughts, and
Fred did not allow them to worry him se-
riously. He felt that Grace had enough philan-
thropy for them both.
After an extremely hot and dusty trip, he
reached Santa Maria. He took a carriage, and


74
HOPE'S HIGHWAY
having reached the hotel, went directly to his
apartments, as he felt very dusty and tired.
In the morning, which was an extremely
warm one, he awoke early. After breakfast
he walked around town and was attracted by
the beauty of the place. Roses were in bloom
and nature had everywhere a glad, smiling look.
Quite an inquisitive gaze was bestowed upon
Fred when he asked at the hotel:
“What is the best time to visit the Vance
Institute?”
The clerk quickly replied:
“We don't know much about them Niggers;
they stay over on that side, and we stay on
this. Nobody much bothers about them. They
tell me that the school is going to the dogs.
You came down to look 'em over, I suppose.”
“Yes," said Fred, not wishing to prolong
the conversation with this somewhat contrary
individual.
He passed out of the hotel door and went
down the steps, walking off somewhat slowly
down the street. He had not gone very far
when a somewhat repulsive looking man, tall,
middle-aged, and carelessly attired, overtook
him.
“Lookin' us folks behind the sun over, I
suppose??? he ventured.
“Well, somewhat,” replied Fred. “You have
a pretty nice town here."


FRED TROWER IN THE SOUTH
75
“Yes, but things have gone somewhat to the
dogs, on account of these lazy darkies down
this way. Can't make 'em work unless you beat
'em. There's that fine school that fool Vance
put up for 'em, an' they don't even have enough
attendin' to keep the doors open.”
“Are you acquainted around these parts?”
asked Fred,—for he thought that he might get
the information he desired from this man.
“Yes I know everybody in and aroun’ Santa
Maria,—white an' black.”
“Then you probably know something of a
Tom Brinley?”
“That little black thief an'idler? Of course
I do. What do you want with him?”
“I am trying to find him for a friend of
mine."
"Well, you won't come across him 'round
these parts. He was sent to the chain-gang in
the backwoods for idlin' and stealin'.”
Fred did not seem as shocked as one might
think at hearing this, for all along the road,
he had seen the Negro's idleness. And since
theft follows such a weakness, it seemed just
natural.
"What did your friend wish with this little
black devil ?” asked Vardam, for it was he.
“She thought that she saw some good traits
in him and wished to develop them.”
“What Nigger has any but bad traits? A


76
HOPE'S HIGHWAY
woman too! Good Lord! My good man, keep
her away from Niggers, or she and you will
regret it some day.”
Fred never found the Institute, in fact he had
no desire to hunt for it, after talking with this
man. He lit a cigar, and puffing it complac-
ently, slowly returned to his hotel.
On the veranda he stopped to watch the
Southern sunset. Slowly and slowly Old Sol
sank to the western horizon, and when almost
all had disappeared, the rest dropped suddenly
out of sight. As Fred Trower witnessed this
sudden dropping, he thought of how Grace's
fond hopes had vanished like a dream.
He said to himself:
“It's all tomfoolery her coming down here
and getting interested in a trifling black lad,
who was not worth a rap. Anyhow, I have done
my part. I wish Grace would not get so
wrapped up in these good-for-nothing people.”
After staying around another day, Fred
started for home. He ran into a college chum,
who was traveling in the interest of an agricul-
tural society, and he persuaded Fred to attend
this Farmers' Conference with him.
Jerry Dill did not mention the fact that this
conference concerned the Blacks as well as the
Whites; for if he did, I do not think Fred
Trower would have troubled to go.


FRED TROWER IN THE SOUTH
77
He was not a narrow man, he tried to view
a subject from all sides before arriving at a
conclusion; yet he failed to see anything other
than absurdity in his errand to Santa Maria.
When his friend, Jerry Dill, found that Fred
had some time to spare, he persuaded him to
attend the Farmers' Conference,—not that
Fred Trower was one bit interested in farms
or farmers nor did he have any special desire
to hang around the South; but the air was
somewhat balmy and his love for nature met its
response in everything in bloom. So Fred told
Jerry that if it were not for the tugging at his
heartstrings that drew him home, he would like
to remain in the sunny South for an indefinite
time.
The friends alighted at a little town, about
seventy miles from Richmond, called Hollis,
and found a pleasant little boarding-place.
After Jerry had made all necessary arrange-
ments for the following day he and Fred
roamed around the village for a little fresh air.
As they wandered off the main road, they
came to a settlement of cabins, behind which
were richly cultivated tracts of land. At the
doors of the cabins groups of blacks were con-
gregated.
“This settlement,” said Jerry, “is one of the
most progressive in the South. The Negroes
are very energetic, and this section produces


78
HOPE'S HIGHWAY
larger crops for its size than any other known
settlement."
“How do you account for this unusual prog-
ress here?” asked Fred.
“Well, I suppose the main thing is that these
people get better treatment,—that is, there are
fairer laws and a better spirit on the part of
the authorities here than elsewhere. It's only
a matter of human treatment after all, Fred,
the better you treat a horse, the more he will
love you and the more devotedly he will serve
you."
Even with what Jerry had said, Fred was
still reticent in talking of his prime mission in
the South. He did not state his own opinions
but simply allowed Jerry to air his ideas, and
now and then he would inject a question or two
of his own.
“Who attends these conferences, and what
good is derived from them?” asked Fred.
Jerry replied:
“Well, as I said, a mutual feeling exists be-
tween the races down here on matters of mu-
tual concern. All attend the conferences and
one gleans information from the other's expe-
riences. That is why this agricultural society
sent me down here. They selected this place
because they feel that where race hatred is least
bitter more good will be developed. As you
know, hatred, be it of races or individuals, re-


THE FARMERS' CONFERENCE 81
in autos and others came on horseback. Oc-
casionally, the father, mother, and child were
carried on one poor horse. Then others came
in wagons, in shays, on mules, and in ox-carts.
The colored women were dressed in every
bright color one could think of. Some wore
hats, with style and without style. Red ban-
dannas seemed to have the day among them.
The styles effected by the men were various.
Vests were in as many colors as were the
women's dresses. And Prince Alberts were al-
most in as great evidence among the men as
red bandannas were among the women. Fred
did not know whether he was attending a
farmers' conference or a Baptist convention.
When he entered the hall, he saw a goodly
number, both white and colored, seated. Many
seemed to be conferring, one with the other,
and, to his surprise, the atmosphere was most
genial. Jerry Dill had seen his friend enter and
take his place amid the crowd of farmers, and
knowing that Fred would enjoy the sight bet-
ter from the platform, he sent down for him.
“Some style!” said Fred to Jerry as he was
escorted to a seat.
“Yes, old pal; but just you wait and see what
they know. Just listen and hear what Dame
Nature has taught them. What they know
from that sincere teacher would surprise some
of our fair lads and lassies in high school.”


82
HOPE'S HIGHWAY
The meeting was called to order by the mod-
erator. As Fred looked around him, he was
surprised to see the class of men that had come
to listen to the farming experiences of these
illiterate country folk.
The meeting lagged somewhat at first, as one
would naturally expect. The innocent country
folk had to be aroused, just as the little seeds
and plants need to be drawn out of the earth
by the sun.
At length one large colored woman arose
and told how she was supporting her five chil-
dren by growing cotton.
.“ 'Tis de swelles' cotton dat grows any-
wheres aroun’!" she cried enthusiastically.
She told of how the land had been at first a
hollow pond, of how her boys had filled it in
and fertilized it, and of her great success.
Black speakers and white were interspersed,
but Fred found the Negroes far more interest-
ing, because of their ingenious ways of doing
things.
He listened with enthusiasm to a colored
farmer whose clothes were less gaudy than any
of the rest. The moderator introduced him as
the richest Negro for one hundred miles around.
The speaker arose, and in an unassuming
manner spoke of his rise from poverty. He
told of his father's and mother's being slaves,
and of his being taken away from them when


THE FARMERS' CONFERENCE 83
he was quite young, and of their being sold
and going away, and of his never seeing them
again. He told of how he would watch the soil
and study the growth of things, and of his great
success in raising cotton, and how to-day he
shipped more cotton of the finer grade than any
other farmer in the South.
Fred whispered to Jerry:
“It's wonderful, Jerry, I must admit."
Another burly black man told of the plant-
ing of the legumes and of the plowing of the
roots under the soil, enriching it with nitrogen,
which produced the element necessary for the
growth of a number of plants and vegetables
that he called by name. He also spoke of the
rotation of the crops, thus preventing taking
from the soil the same mineral matter year
after year. He said that planting different
crops every year kept the soil rich for the next
crop.
After a few more talks all present filed out
to the grounds for dinner.
"A picnic in the biggest sense!” thought
Fred.
Jerry took Fred around among the farmers,
showing him the cooked materials, all of which
had been raised by them.
Fred remarked afterward to his Northern
friends,
“Everything looked too good to be true, As


CHAPTER XII
TOM BRINLEY IN CHAINS
TOM BRINLEY, grieved to his soul, lay upon
a hay bed, in a broken-down little hut,-a fig-
ure to move any one to pity. Chained to him
was an old man,-Uncle Abbott,--seventy years
of age, whom the cruel overseer always used to
break in young prisoners. Uncle Abbott took
mightily to the boy and urged him not to show
much strength, as it would go hard with him.
Thus, Tom reserved his energy as directed by
his adviser, and well it was that he did, for
he was to stand in great need of it later on.
Vardam and Tilton were in league with other
political leaders to keep down those Negroes
who manifested any degree of independence.
These, they branded as “dangerous char-
acters.” It was their usual plan to trump up
some charge of misdemeanor and then send
them to the chain-gang in order to keep the
others in the community in submission.
Tilton incarcerated Uncle Abbott because he
pastored a set of his people who were always
in fear of their employers. Uncle Abbott
85


TOM BRINLEY IN CHAINS
87
Thus Uncle Abbott was sent to the chain-
gang, and had been there two years when Tom
Brinley came. Two favors he asked of his in-
carcerators,—to be able to take his worn and
torn Bible, and a little grip that held a few
pieces of worn clothing. His wish was granted.
When Uncle Abbott went to Holding to
preach, he had taken with him money, which
was hidden between the worn covers of his
Bible, for he did not know when he might be
forced to leave. Thus he could depend upon
this money which he had saved to get away
with, should the opportunity be offered to him.
When he found that he did not have the chance
to escape, as he had anticipated, he resignedly
faced the situation. He had almost forgotten
that he had this money, when Tom came upon
the scene.
After he had heard Tom's sad story from the
boy's own lips, and had discerned his aptitude
and indomitable spirit,—which would mean
much to his people,-he determined to help
the lad make his escape.
Uncle Abbott was not a man of much learn-
ing, but he was possessed of tact and a native
shrewdness which mastered any emergency.
He truly would have made a leader, had he
been given the chance. In Tom he saw true
worth and appreciated it, and all his mental en-


CHAPTER XIII
TOM BRINLEY'S ESCAPE TO THE NORTH
UNCLE ABBOTT awoke Tom one night, and
told him what he intended doing. Tom pleaded
with the old man not to jeopardize his own life
by trying to assist him. Uncle Abbott told him
not to fear, that he knew the road well and
that he felt that Divine guidance would clear
the way of any obstacles that might arise. As
their hut was located right on the road of es-
cape, he told Tom to follow the road, until he
came to Toddsville, where he knew a good
Christian family, that would shield him from
harm.
“Go to them,” he said, "and tell them that I
sent you, and they will drive you over to
Cherry, where you can board a train for Mary-
land. After reaching there, buy some decent
clothes, and go directly to New York,—where
you can pass under another name,mand seek
work.”
Tom listened attentively to Uncle Abbott; he
knew that the guards were situated at the other
end of the cabins, for they did not consider it
89


90
HOPE'S HIGHWAY
necessary to be very watchful of Uncle Abbott,
as he never attempted to escape. And even if
Tom did, they knew he could not get very far
with Uncle Abbott chained to him. No one
ever suspected that the old man had in his pos-
session means by which he could undo his chains
if he so desired.
In the moonlight Uncle Abbott released
Tom's chains, and put into the lad's pocket all
the dry bread he could gather. After he had
given him the money from between the covers
of the Bible and had wished him God-speed, he
bade him to go quickly and quietly. This was
too much for Tom. He appreciated his friend's
great kindness, but he felt that to take the
money, which Uncle Abbott might some day
need, would be an imposition. He told the old
man that he would rather take his chance at
finding something to do, and working his way
on to New York, than to take that which he
might some day need.
But the old man replied:
“No, I will not consider you out of danger
until you have crossed the Mason and Dixon
line. Prejudice to-day, my boy, is very rank
down here, and if you are caught anywhere in
the South, I know that they will place you where
there will never be any hope. So take this
money, and travel as fast as you can to your
destination. You will for quite some time be


92
HOPE'S HIGHWAY
draggled and dusty, about nine o'clock the fol-
lowing morning. Seeing some men on their
way to the fields, he asked them to direct him
to Uncle Abbott's friends. This they did with-
out questioning the poor boy, who presented a
veritable picture of distress.
When Tom found the people and had told
them his sad story and the story of Uncle Ab-
bott, their grief knew no bounds.
Tom had just finished his tale of woe when
the folks were startled by loud voices outside.
Their suspicion was immediately aroused, so
they hid Tom in a load of hay. Then Aunt
Fanny and Uncle Joe went on with their work,
planning that as soon as they had got rid of
these trailers they would get Tom to Cherry as
quickly as possible.
Sure enough the voices belonged to those that
were hunting for Tom. They yelled to Aunt
Fanny, asking her if she had seen a little Nig-
ger come along that way.
“Yes," returned Aunt Fanny "a long time
ago, an' he look so queer, I knowed he wus up
tu mischief. He asked me where Rootville was,
an’I showed him, an' off he trotted."
Now, Rootville was in the opposite direction
to Cherry, and after looking through her cabin
the men hurried in the direction Aunt Fanny
had indicated. When the trailers were out of


TOM BRINLEY’S ESCAPE
95
At this time a young colored woman attracted
his attention. Tom was now in his seventeenth
year. Unassuming and manly, he impressed
this modest young colored girl, who, like him-
self, was taking advantage of an opportunity
that the North offered.
One evening as they passed out together,
Mary Abbott,—that was her name,—said:
“I have been so interested in this article
about this Tom Brinley, whom they are seeking,
that I want you to read it."
Tom took the paper calmly and read this
headline:
ONE THOUSAND DOLLARS REWARD FOR THE RE-
TURN OF A BLACK BOY WHO IS AN ESCAPED CON-
VICT.
And then the text went on to give his de-
scription as to color, height, looks, and so on.
Whether Mary was suspicious or not, Tom
did not know. She told him that the paper had
been sent to her from the South by friends, who
sympathized with the boy, because they knew
that he was innocent. They had also told her
that in that section if any colored person
chanced to attract attention by being ambitious,
he would be put out of the way by political
renegades.
Much to his dismay, Tom found that he was
not even safe in New York. What should he


96
HOPE'S HIGHWAY
do? What resort had he? Upon handing the
paper back to Mary, he made no comment upon
it other than that the victim must either be
dangerous or valuable.
Tom found himself occasionally at the side
of this fine-looking young girl. He often saw
a resemblance to his benefactor, Uncle Abbott,
and when she told him of a dear uncle, who was
imprisoned by the same wicked people that
hunted the boy, he longed to tell her his secret,
and how his present opportunity was due to
the big-heartedness of this grand old man.
“Not yet,” he thought; “I must first know
how much she cares for me before I do this. I
wish I could tell her of my feeling for her; but
I cannot, without telling my secret; so I must
keep this, too, within my breast.”
One day, while delivering packages for the
Bracy firm, for which he worked, Tom came
near running into the arms of Joe Vardam.
He had one package marked, “Mrs. Silas Grant,
East 71st Street.” After the maid had taken
the package and he was turning to go, he saw
Joe Vardam enter the house. The politician
did not recognize the lad in uniform, and ever
afterward Tom "kept scarce" (in Joe Var-
dam's terminology) in that vicinity.
In the meantime Tom and Mary often met
and in time they came to know each other well.
Mary discovered admirable traits in Tom, and


TOM BRINLEY’S ESCAPE
97
Tom discerned excellent qualities in Mary.
Aside from going back to and from school, Tom
rarely went out, for he did not know when he
might run into Joe Vardam.
Tom was always neatly attired, and presented
a pleasing appearance. Wherever he deliv-
ered goods for his firm, the people were always
satisfied with his service. Some commented
upon this, and many an extra dollar he had at
the end of the month. He had rented a small
room in order to save his money.
To Mary Abbott he spoke but slightly of his
past, however great was his yearning to do so.
Oftimes he felt that he could trust her with his
secret.
Upon Fred Trower's return to the North, he
told Grace that he had met a man who informed
him that Tom Brinley had been sent to the
chain-gang, because he was a thief, an idler,
and a dangerous character. But since his de-
scription of the man tallied with the appear-
ance of Joe Vardam, Grace would not believe
the charges against Tom. She said little to
Fred about the matter, however.
Joe Vardam had visited the Grants in the
course of his search for Tom. This Grace did
not know until after a planned absence, ar-
ranged for the purpose of avoiding this man.
After she returned, however, she learned that
he was in search of Tom Brinley. Then, as if


98
HOPE'S HIGHWAY
in a vision, she remembered about the woman
crying for her lost son,—the black woman of
whom the little Grant children had spoken.
Over to the de Forests she went and after
speaking to Fanny about the matter, she saw
Mandy Brinley and talked with her. After
this talk Grace was more than ever convinced
of Tom's innocence. For between Fanny and
Grace, the conclusion had been established that
Joe Vardam was a scheming rascal. So the
Grants were kept in ignorance of the where-
abouts of Tom's mother. After this visit Grace
called frequently to see Fanny, and the friend-
ship between the two grew strong and deep.


CHAPTER XIV
TOM IN LOVE
TIME went on and with it Tom had changed,
-having grown taller and stouter. Now he
had a certain assurance that he could get
by better than at first. He was preparing to
graduate from Hooper's Institute in his twen-
tieth year, and because of his brilliancy and
oratorical ability, he was given the valedictory,
which he felt even now unsafe to accept. So,
because he begged to be excused, it passed on
to the next.
Meanwhile, he had kept up his friendship
with Mary Abbott, and though his tender feel-
ing toward her was manifest, he did not dare
to speak to her of his love.
"Mary is so hard to read,” he would say to
himself. “She always seems so sympathetic in
her manner, which somewhat puzzles me. She
looks at me so tenderly, when she asks me ques-
tions regarding my past, and which I try so
hard to evade answering. It has been a great
task for me to avoid telling her all in the few
years in which I have known her. She has been
99


TOM IN LOVE
101
man whom she had met at the Institute and
how much he reminded her of Mandy the laun-
dress.
“The eyes are so much alike,” Mary would
say.
Nanna told her that Mandy was in great dis-
tress, as they were seeking the lad who had es-
caped from the chain-gang and she knew that if
they caught him they would lynch him.
"I do feel so sorry for both,” said Mary,
“for I know they both suffer. It is so sad that
those wicked people in the South are not
brought to justice.”
“Some day them white trash' down there
will get all they are lookin' for bless the
Lord!” returned Nanna.
It was then that Mary began to suspect that
Frank Hope was really Tom Brinley,—Mandy's
son. And she resolved that at the first oppor-
tunity, she would reveal her suspicions to Tom.
One day Tom felt that he must give vent to
the pent-up feelings that were getting the better
of him. He felt that he must tell some one. In
his association at the Institute he came in touch
with a number of Catholics. Ofttimes he heard
them speak of confession. Then, too, he re-
membered that one of the boys had committed
a theft in a thoughtless moment, and when he
thought over what he had done it worried him
so much that he confessed to his priest, whose


102
HOPE'S HIGHWAY
influence went far towards making his punish-
ment a slight one. Then, too, he was rid of the
dreadful remorse that attends a hidden crime.
Tom thought over all this very seriously, and
determined to go to a priest and tell him his
sad story.
“I must unbosom my secret self,” he would
often say to himself, “for I cannot stand this
torture much longer.”
Mary Abbott noticed that Tom was greatly
worried,—that recently he even evaded her
presence.
“If I could only help him, I would be so
happy. I am almost sure that he is Mandy's
boy. I must tell him that I know it and that I
want to help him. His mother would mean so
much to him. If I could only bring them to-
gether without even Nanna knowing it! How
I want to help him! Can he not see that I care
enough for him not to expose him?" she rea-
soned.
That Mary might not consider him rude in
his great distress Tom dropped her these lines :
DEAR MARY:
Such a spell of melancholy has come over me, because of a
great sorrow in my life, that I would not care to burden you
with it. When I feel brighter I shall see you.
Yours, etc.,
FRANK HOPE.
Two weeks passed, during which time Tom
was making up his mind just what course to


104
HOPE'S HIGHWAY
“Suppose I do say that I am Tom Brinley;
what would you do?”
“What should I do other than sympathize
with you,-as I have been doing for the past
three years? Now I have a great surprise for
you,-one that I wish you to hear of.”
Tom looked anxiously into Mary's face.
Mary continued:
“It is your mother that I desire to tell you
of. She is laundress in the family with my Aunt
Nanna, whom I have only recently found. Now
your life I have heard of, as she told Nanna and
Nanna in turn told me. You must be very cau-
tious, for the people your mother works for,
the de Forests, are great friends of the people
whom Joe Vardam stopped with when he was
up here searching for you.”
Tom's eagerness to see his dear mother
knew no bounds. He wanted to go directly to
her, no matter what might accrue to him from
it, but at the look on Mary's beautiful face
when he expressed his rash desire, he yielded
to the appeal of her worried countenance and
said resignedly:
“All right, Mary. I shall let you arrange a
meeting with your own tactfulness. Only let
me see my mother as soon as you can."
Mary wondered just how things could be ar-
ranged, as Tom's mother seldom went out, and


TOM BRINLEY RESCUES GRACE 107
he reached the door a neighbor called to him to
bring her into the house where the two girls
were being cared for.
As soon as Tom reached the air with the
woman, she opened her eyes, and looking into
the face of her rescuer, cried,
“Why, Tom,-is this Tom Brinley?”
He recognized the woman as one whom he
had seen in his Santa Maria home,-Grace En-
nery.
“Yes, ma'am,'' he replied, “but don't expose
me, please."
By this time Fred Trower had reached
Grace's side with Jack Grant, whom Grace had
insisted upon Fred's rescuing, with the rest of
the children, before she permitted him to pay
any attention to her.
“Fred,” she whispered, “this is the boy
whom I sent you in search of. He is the one
who prevented us from being overcome by the
smoke.”
Tom put his finger to his lip in order to quiet
her, fearing exposure.
“Give your address to Mr. Trower, and we
shall arrange to talk with you, Tom. Do not
fear anything, as we shall now,-since you have
so bravely rescued us,-guard you with our
lives."
"Good-by," whispered Tom, as he handed
his address to Mr. Trower and hurried out, not


TOM BRINLEY RESCUES GRACE 109
the upper part of the house only, and that part
by smoke and water rather than by flames.
When Mr. and Mrs. Grant returned home
from a social function, greatly frightened, -
as they had been sent for,—the children told
them excitedly how a colored man had come to
the rescue when Mr. Trower had been almost
overcome.
“Who was he, and what was his name?” in-
quired Mr. and Mrs. Grant, in a breath.
“He wouldn't tell us his name. Did he tell
you, Aunt Grace? I saw him talking to you
and Mr. Trower,” said Jack with much con-
cern.
Grace remained quiet, but Fred Trower broke
in :
"He did, but in our excitement we forgot
it."
“I thought that I saw him write something
down,” Margaret put in.
“If he did, I don't really recall it,” was
Fred's reply.
This conversation was interrupted by the
maid, who came in to ask for help in removing
some beds to the library. Both Mr. Grant and
Fred went out to assist her. After everything
had been arranged, Fred left, promising to see
Grace on the morrow.
Going directly to the club, Fred remained
there talking of the fire and other things until


110
HOPE'S HIGHWAY
quite a late hour, when he returned home.
While undressing for bed, he thought of the
exciting events of the evening and of the
bravery of Tom Brinley.
“Brave chap!” said Fred aloud, as was his
custom in the quiet of his apartment. “I won-
der if such a fellow could be a dangerous char-
acter. Nevertheless, I'll size him up to-mor-
row, and will let Grace know what I think of
him. Let me see where he lives.”
Fred arose, took up his vest and to his great
dismay found that the paper was not where he
was sure he had placed it. He looked in the
other pockets of the clothes that he wore; still
he could not find it. His first impulse, of
course, was to call up Grace and ask her if she
had found the slip of paper that Tom Brinley
had given her.
Immediately he went to the 'phone and called
up the Grant house. Of course, at this hour of
the night, Mr. Grant was the one to answer the
call, as all the servants were asleep in another
part of the house. A night call always annoyed
Silas Grant, as he never cared to be aroused
from his sleep. And when both he and his wife
were wakened by the ring just outside their
door, he remarked:
“Who the devil is calling up at this hour of
the night,-after all the excitement, too?”.
“I can't imagine,” replied his wife. “Prob-


TOM BRINLEY RESCUES GRACE 111
ably some one who has just heard of the fire
and is calling up to see if we are all right. Get
up, Silas, and see who it is.”
Mr. Grant arose reluctantly, and after in-
quiring who it was and finding out that it was
Fred Trower, said:
“What in the thunder do you want to wake
us up at this hour of the night for?”.
"Awful sorry to bother you, Grant, but I
must speak to Miss Ennery upon a matter of
very great importance.”
“Very great importance, hey? And can't
wait until a decent hour to talk to her," snarled
Silas Grant. And as he walked through the
hall to Miss Ennery's door he muttered:
“Wakin' up everybody for a little nonsense."
Grace awoke when Mr. Grant called to her,
and impatiently slipping on her boudoir slip-
pers and gown, went to the 'phone.
“Fred, why could you not wait? Mr. Grant
does not like this intrusion on his sleep."
"Sorry, Grace, but I could not wait until
morning to tell you that I lost the paper with
Tom's address on it. Did you find it after I
left you?”
“O Fred, how careless of you! What will you
do? Something must be done immediately."
“What can I do? I don't know where to find
him. I didn't notice what was on the card.”.


112
HOPE'S HIGHWAY
"O Fred, this is dreadful! I'll look around
and call you up if I find it. If you don't hear
from me, come up to the house before you go to
your office and we can determine upon some
step to take under these unfortunate circum-
stances. Good-by for the present."
Grace, depressed, went on a search for the
paper which would, however, mean much if
found before it fell into another's hand. Joe
Vardam had made the name of Tom Brinley
well known in the Grant home, as he had stayed
with them when he was searching for Tom. As
has been said when Grace heard of his coming,
she purposely,—without letting the Grants into
the secret,—made a visit to a school chum, to
avoid identification.
And now the only thing to do was to find the
card for should any of the Grants get hold of
the paper, it would surely mean a return to the
chain-gang for the boy.
Poor Grace searched everywhere for the
missing slip of paper, but it failed to material-
ize. She refrained from inquiring whether or
not it had been seen, as she knew that she would
surely incur suspicion. Tired and fagged out
from the hunt, she returned to her room a most
unhappy woman.
Fred called early the next day and they
talked seriously of some possible way to save


116
HOPE'S HIGHWAY
she called up Fred Trower, arranging for him
to meet her immediately. This Fred did in a
remarkably short time, and away they went to
find the address that Grace bore in mind, for
Jack had read it in a very audible manner.
They found the place, but the youth was not
at home. Gaining the desired information as
to his place of employment, and finding out his
assumed name, they called for him at the Bracy
establishment.
When Tom heard the news that he was
wanted he thought that his hour had come, and
as he went into the presence of Fred and Grace,
he prepared himself for the inevitable.
They took Tom aside and told him what had
happened.
“You must leave immediately, as you are in
danger, for these Grants are friends of Var-
dam's,” remarked Grace excitedly.
As if he had been struck with a bolt, Tom
recalled the fact that he had delivered a pack-
age at this very house, and had come almost
face to face with the man who had done him so
much wrong.
Grace looked up into her lover's face, saying:
“Suppose, Fred, we send him out of the
country? What boats are going out this morn-
ing?"
“Let me see—the Lusanne sails at twelve
o'clock to-day. Do you think he can make it?”
immediatel.
dam
", for these


118
HOPE'S HIGHWAY
to wait for him, as his stay is still indefinite.
For a time we can rent an apartment; it's easy
enough to make a change when we have found a
suitable location. I have a notion that Vardam
will be up here in a few days, and I want you
to be out of his way. To-day is Wednesday.
Let us be married Saturday in the Little
Church Around the Corner.”
“All right, Fred; perhaps it is the proper
thing now. And the coming true of my wish
has made me so happy. Yet we never have
what we really want, after all, in this life.
Things happen so differently from what we
desire. I wanted to talk with Tom about his
trouble. I firmly believe he met with foul play.
Some one wished to do him harm."
“Yes, Grace, I, too, believe in the lad now,
since I have seen him and know of his unselfish-
ness. He seems utterly incapable of wrong-do-
ing. His eyes are so wonderfully sympathetic.
Poor boy! If he is truly innocent,-as I believe
him to be, his persecutors should be brought
to justice."
"Fred, you had better leave me now and re-
turn to the office while I go home and rest."
“You need rest surely, for you look so care-
worn. Go home, and do not worry any more,
but get yourself together for the event of our
lives,-our wedding."
Grace smiled complacently as they parted,


SPIRITED AWAY
121
“I'm marrying on Saturday morning, Fanny,
in the Little Church Around the Corner, and
I want you present as a witness."
“Sure thing, kid, and I wish you piles of luck.
You're getting the real stuff, Grace. Lots of
girls have been crazy over him,-got the dough,
you know (that is, his dad has, and he the only
child). He's some catch, I tell you! Why
didn't you have a decent wedding? What's it
so quick for? Did the fire drive you to it?”.
"No, not exactly," drawled Grace, “and in
a way it did. Then, since we were really going
to cross the Rubicon, and neither of us cared
about a large wedding, we thought we might as
well cross now as at any time.”
“Well, perhaps you're right. After all,
Grace, what's in a wedding? It's the living
afterwards that counts in the long run. By the
way, they've found Mandy's poor son, haven't
they?”
Grace, reddening a bit, replied:
“Yes.”
“Mrs. Grant said that they found his card
after the fire, and some think he was the lad
who rescued you."
“That may be so," said Grace.
“If you could hear his poor mother talk,
you would think he was an angel instead of
the devil Vardam pictures him to be. Well, I


122
HOPE'S HIGHWAY
don't know; it's all very mysterious,—that he
should be so good and at the same time so bad.".
Grace went after Fanny had lavished all sorts
of good wishes upon her.
Fanny de Forest was a typical society girl,
yet she had a sympathy which Grace thought
appealing, and even though Fanny loved to go
into society, at every chance she sought Grace
and took great delight in her company and in
her art. She had a freedom of speech that was
attractive in her, though at times she gave it
rein until it trampled over the proprieties.
Despite this she never, because of her intuitive
sympathy, gave offense. Her wholesomeness,
combined with this sympathy, had won Grace's
friendship.


THE WEDDING
125
Hope, and that he had been in the community
several years. He had worked for the Bracy
firm, and since he had been North had entered
and graduated from Hooper's Institute. They
also discovered that, the morning he disap-
peared, a man and woman, answering to the
description of Fred Trower and Miss Ennery
had been with him. The three had been traced
to the wharf of the Lusanne, upon which boat,
they learned, the boy had taken passage under
the name of Lester Trower.
Grace Ennery and Fred Trower stood speech-
less during this rehearsal. Both failed to show
any emotion, while Mrs. Trower sobbed and
Mrs. Grant, between outbursts, stated how ter-
rible it was to bring upon them such disgrace
because of a worthless “Nigger.".
“Why don't you talk, Fred?” inquired his
father.
“I will, Dad, when the time comes. Come
on in and let the ceremony go on.”
A sadder group never entered a church for a
wedding. Mr. Grant remained with the de-
tectives, while the others went forward, where
the few witnesses sat.
After the ceremony the Grant children and
Mrs. Grant left immediately for their home,
while Mr. Grant, the two detectives, Grace, her
husband, and Mr. and Mrs. Trower were driven
over to the station, where Fred's father ar-


. 126
HOPE'S HIGHWAY
ranged matters so that he and his bride could
have an unmolested honeymoon.
Fanny de Forest dismissed her own chaf-
feur, at Mrs. Grant's request, and rode in the
car with her and the children, so that they might
have an opportunity to talk over the event that
had just transpired.
"Well, even if Fred and Grace did spirit the
boy away, I don't believe that he was the devil
old Vardam said he was,” Fanny replied, after
a short silence, having learned the facts of the
case. Then she went on: "Did they admit
doing what they were charged with?”
“No, not one word did either of them utter
regarding the affair," returned Mrs. Grant.
“Fred Trower said that he would talk when
the time came. I don't understand it one bit,
Fanny."
“Do you think, since they cannot get the boy,
that they will ever take Fred into custody?"
asked Fanny, with a serious look.
“Never! Jail Fred Trower for a Nigger?
The only inconvenience he would experience
would be a long-drawn-out trial perhaps, as it
would be interstate. And about all they could
do would be to fine Fred for interference with
the law."
“Poor Fred, I believe he is doing it all for
her! She is so unprejudiced in her feelings, so
loyal! She has a strong flow of anti-slavery


THE TRIAL
133
their opponents were uttering in behalf of a
member of a race that they hated with all their
hearts.
Vardam was then called upon, and he arose
to his feet. Clearing his throat, he told of every
conceivable guilt he could name that the Blacks
were associated with. He spoke of black men's
assaulting white women, of the Negro's neglect,
idleness, and laziness, of their feigning good
behavior when the Northern whites were
around and of the latter's interference with the
Southern laws, making the Negro contemptuous,
and hard to manage by his Southern employers.
“May I ask,” interrupted the judge, “what
this Tom Brinley was sent to the chain-gang
for?"
Vardam cleared his throat and replied:
“He was surly, rude, idle, and a dangerous
character.”
“Did I not hear that he stole?”
“Oh, yes," Vardam quickly responded.
“What did he steal?”
“A number of things."
“Name some of them.”
“I object," interposed Vardam's lawyer.
“If I can have one concrete example to place
him in the criminal class, I can see where Fred-
erick Trower and his wife protected a criminal.
But up to this point, I cannot see where he has
been a dangerous character in the community.”


134
HOPE'S HIGHWAY
“Well, I tell you they are all dangerous,
every confounded one of them.”
“That is sufficient," said the judge.
Then Tilton was called to the witness chair.
“What do you know of Tom Brinley," asked
the judge.
“Everything bad," answered Tilton, rather
glumly.
"What connection did he have with you?"
“He worked for me.”
At this remark Mandy Brinley sobbed aloud,
for she knew that Tom had never laid eyes upon
this man that stood there, lying.
“What work did he do?”
“Worked in my rice-fields, and while there
he created disturbances among the other work-
ers."
“Then,” remarked the judge, “do I under-
stand that you sent him, for no particular of-
fense, to the chain-gang, where after being
driven and lashed and starved, he loosens his
chains, steals tools from the drunken guard,
beats him into unconsciousness, and escapes ?
That is what any of us would have done under
the circumstances.”
At this moment the court-room door opened
and Tom Brinley walked slowly down the aisle.
Those who knew him could not have been more
startled. Tom's mother screamed out, and Joe


136
HOPE'S HIGHWAY
relieved from harshness by the twinkle in his
eye. And those slightly curved lips could
break into a beautiful smile. Not exactly a
handsome face, yet it was a decidedly noble
one. Suffering and sorrow showed there; but
it was suffering and sorrow that had been con-
quered and mastered that was expressed in that
countenance.
And the form they saw was in keeping with
the head and face; a form slightly above the
medium height, erect, broad-shouldered and
deep-chested, with that ease of movement that
betokens great strength and agility.
It was easily seen that Tom had made a
favorable impression upon his audience before
he began to speak in calm, measured tones, with
a well-modulated voice.
Amid breathless silence Tom began his story.
He told a most touching tale of his life with
his mother at Santa Maria, stating that he
did all that he could to help her. He told the
court how Vardam laid in wait for him, as was
his habit with other ambitious individuals of
his race. He told a pitiful tale of the chain-
gang, having sufficient presence of mind not to
mention Uncle Abbott; yet he did say that he
found others there as innocent of crime as he
was. He said, in reference to the overseer
whom he incapacitated, that he had hoped in
his escape to meet no obstacle and that when


TOM BRINLEY AT OXFORD
143
were his constant correspondents. As for
Grace Trower, she was enthusiastic over Tom's
letters, and the zeal with which the boy took up
his work.
Westminster Abbey, wherein are buried all
the English celebrities, was the place in which
Tom loved to wander. For hours he would sit
and study this last resting-place of England's
famed sons, awed and impressed by its silent
grandeur.
Mary Abbott kept Tom in touch with his coun-
try's activities. After he was away two years,
great excitement was being manifested over
the country's threatened war with Japan.
Then, too, the question that his people were
pressing was “The admittance of the Negro
into the State Militia." "No," cried many;
“Yes,” cried a few. “What are we,” ex-
claimed Tom, on reading of the issue, “that
even to die for one's country is too great an
honor?!!
Tom, on account of his excellent record, was
admitted into some of the most exclusive so-
cieties of the University. He was even priv-
ileged to attend social functions. The social
attitude of the English people puzzled him, for
he thought that socially his color would be a
barrier as long as he lived, so far as mingling
with white man was concerned. Though en-
joying every privilege, Tom never took ad-


146
HOPE'S HIGHWAY
mood, “will Vardam and Tilton hold their
cruel sway because of politics ?”.
Not many days after one of his periods of
thinking of Santa Maria he received a letter
from Mary, who was then teaching in a South-
ern school. In it she sent a newspaper clipping,
which read as follows:
The Vance Institute has closed its doors. So indifferent were
its students to what the great John Vance saw fit to leave for
an unworthy people that it could not continue to open its doors
to emptiness.
In the letter Mary stated that politics had
grown so rotten in and around Santa Maria
that the appropriation left in trust had been
misused, and that there were no funds left to
keep this greatest of Southern Institutes open
to the people that it was intended to help. Then
she added:
If some one could have followed the Leader, who, like him,
had the love of his people at heart, things would not have
taken the course that they did.
"Following the Leader," breathed Tom.
“Could I but do this, Mary, it would be the
realization of my dearest wish. But I cannot
follow the Leader in Santa Maria. If I follow
him, it must be elsewhere."
Time passed and Tom made many good
friends. He applied himself arduously to his
studies, never feeling that he could spend any


154
HOPE'S HIGHWAY
there to follow that grand and noble leader and once more
place upon a solid footing this institute, the pride of the
South
Tom closed the paper, laid it down, and, with
his face buried in his palms, he pondered. At
this moment there came a knock at the door.
He occupied a suite in one of the finest French
hotels. The garçon, speaking in French,-
which Tom understood well,—told him that he
was wanted below. Rising, he descended a
magnificent stairway and entered a luxuriously
appointed salon, where a representative of the
President of France awaited him. Tom's
visitor informed him that he was authorized to
offer him an important consulate.
When Tom had expressed his appreciation
of the conference of this great honor upon him,
-he said quietly:
“Duty calls me across the seas to my op-
pressed and forsaken people. I must go and
serve them; I must spend my days in lifting
them out of their igorance, so that their condi-
tion may be altered. I thank you for the great
opportunity you have given me to prove my
manhood. To England I owe much, because of
the advantages she gave me of an education
without restrictions. I shall go to my people,
taking those European ideals, which I trust
shall ever be a part of me, and my prayer to
the Almighty shall be for strength to bear un-


THE CALL OF HIS PEOPLE
155
complainingly the scourge of prejudice, which,
because of unfair laws, has been allowed to run
wild in my own, my native land.”
In a few days Tom was en route to America.
As he leaned over the rail to bid good-by to
England and France,-secure in the strength
of the glories of centuries, and afterwards
turning his face toward his own land, he said:
“I come back to you, my country, which I
love and revere. You have unjust laws; you are
unfair to my people; but I believe in your fu-
ture. I have faith in you, though you mete out
partial justice to me and mine, and I shall be-
lieve in you as long as I hear Christ's name
among you. For through Supreme Love only
may I and my people hope for a greater free-
dom.”
Tom's coming was a surprise to all. And the
joy of the Trowers, especially Grace, could not
be imagined. They, with the Grants, had hoped
that he would find some worthy occupation in
Europe; but when they were told of what had
occurred in Santa Maria, and of how he was on
his way to offer his services to the Vance In-
stitute, with the aim of devoting the rest of his
life to the carrying out of the glorious work
that the great Leader had started, they could
not understand how he could turn his back upon
a career rich in honors, in order to serve a
hopeless institution.