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ROBERT LEWIS WARING


AS WE SEE IT
By
ROBERT L. WARING
McGrath Publishing Company
College Park, Maryland


8.28
Warras
1969
Reprint McGrath Publishing Company 1969
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 77-76122
Manufactured in the United States of America
by Arno Press, Inc., New York
COPYRIGHT, 1910, BY
ROBERT L. WARING


788921-013
TO THOSE NEGRO MEN WHO
DARE DEFEND THE WOMAN-
HOOD OF THEIR RACE.
-THE AUTHOR.


AS WE SEE IT


FORWARD
YNASMUCH as the title to this work, “As We See It,"
may be a little obscure, I offer the following explanation
for its adoption:
Books upon books have been written on the Negro question,
but none have told the story as "We" see it. By “We” I
mean the educated Negroes, those of cultured families of the
third and fourth generations, those Negroes who see things
as other men of their mental caliber see them, who feel the
sting of race prejudice most keenly, and at whom the
damnable laws of the South are aimed. In the books that
have been written the “Jim Crow Nigger" is always in
evidence and is always a welcome and fit companion for
those who father the “Jim Crow Law” industry.
This work is intended to reveal two sides of Southern life,
which are carefully obscured, intentionally avoided or delib-
erately misstated my newspaper and magizine writers.
First, in this story we picture that class of Negroes who
are doing something, whose lives, homes and successes are
the same as those of other men, and who, starting from
nothing, have in fifty years accumulated in the aggregate
more than two hundred and fifty million dollars worth of
property. These people compose that class of American
citizens whom the calamity howlers are careful to keep in the
background, and whom the Southern press persist in misrepre-
senting even to the point of malicious lying.
Second, we aim to represent, in their true character,
another class, lower, both morally and mentally, than the
Negro. These people, the “crackers” of the South, marry in


and out of families closely connected, first cousin to first
cousin, great uncle to niece, step-brother to step-sister, brother
to brother's wife, father to step-daughter, adult men to
thirteen-year-old girls, etc. These marriages may account
for their degeneracy more certainly than the newly discovered
hook worm. They can boast, and do boast, of being of the
fourth and fifth generation of those who can neither read
nor write. They have an utter disregard for the property
rights or lives of other men, although this is seldom com-
mented upon by writers. This Southern "cracker” is not
multiplying as his birth rate would indicate, for his offspring
dies in great numbers in early babyhood owing to a lack of
intelligent care, and many older children die in large
numbers because of the lax enforcement of the child labor
laws. These people, the “crackers” of the South, who today
hold that section in political thraldom, and whose uplift,
through education or the infusion of live blood, is the only
possible means left the white people of the South by which
they can hope to keep ahead of the progressive Negro, present
the true problem of the South. So long as the discriminatory
laws remain in force in the South, just so long will the
Negroes, as a whole, continue to outstrip the whites, as a
whole. Every intelligent Negro who is doing something, and
who reads of what his brothers are doing, knows that he is
leaving the Southern white man far behind. The “cracker”
knows this also.
To illustrate: Was there ever a large business of any
character, a store, a bank, an insurance company, a school,
college, or what not, organized, built up, controlled by a man
or woman who sprang from the “cracker" element of this
country? Hundreds of such enterprises are owned and con-
trolled by Negroes who were slaves. This non-progressive
citizen is, however, held up to the world not in his true light,
as a worthless trouble seeker, a veritable cancer eating into
the vitals of the body politic by his “God-given right” (?) to


vote, but as a poor, struggling white man whose chances for
gaining a livelihood are curtailed by the presence of thrifty
Negroes who are bent on removing the bar to their manhood,
placed there by the State.
These things, which should be apparent to all persons
educated in American schools, and also to those who observe
the trend of American ideas, are ever before the educated
Negro. But, even with conditions as they now are, and the
Negro moving along the lines he is pursuing, the time is not
far distant when a change will come over the land. The
popularity of the doctrine of rope and torch for the Negro
is on the wane; the apostles of that doctrine have been rele-
gated to the rear. New ideas, more progressive, have taken
hold on the popular mind.
In a few more generations the Negro will be a man,
thoroughly trained, a true American, ready and willing, as
he has ever been, to fight and to die for the flag that now
protects him-NOT.


AS WE SEE IT
CHAPTER I.
BOUT the year eighteen hundred seventy six, in a
A beautiful section of the old State of Alabama, there
sat upon the large and commodious veranda of an
old Southern home in the golden twilight of a perfect sunset,
two old friends, whose friendship was of life-long standing,
who were alike in many respects, but yet essentially different.
One a white man and owner of the place, the other an
aged Negro, of the old school, were smoking in perfect
harmony, the white man, a meerschaum pipe of queer work-
manship and of great age, having been in his family for
three generations, the Negro the old corncob pipe so common
among Negroes of that day.
“Go to College? What the darn-nation good would that
do? Why, the time is not come for ‘niggers' to be educated
like white men. I tell you, Abe, I shall not agree to any
such d- nonsense.”
“Yes, sar, dat what you say I guess am true when it
comes to ole ‘niggers' like us, but what you goin' do wid
a boy lek my Abe? Ise hear’n you say when dat boy's no
mor'n twelve yeahs ole dat he war de smartes' boy, white
or black, dat war ebber on dis hyar place. Ise de fifth Abe
Overley, black, dat war bred an' bornd on dis hyar place.
Yuse de fifth Abe Overley, white. Yuse seventy-two, Ise
seventy-two; yo' Abe's nineteen, mine's nineteen; yo' Abe's
de sixth white, my Abe's de sixth black; yo' Abe an' my
Abe was teached by the same 'oman at the same time, den
de man come an’dey is both ready to go to College. Now,
what yo' goin' do? Yo' boy's weak, my boy's strong. You
war weak, I war strong. Could you git 'long widouten me?
Yo' Abe need my Abe, my Abe need yo’ Abe.”
9


AS WE SEE IT.
“Yes, Abe, but don't you know that these are different
times? That your Abe and my Abe cannot get along in
College as they do here? White men do not sleep with
'niggers’ at the big Colleges. Times have changed.”
“Yes, Ise hear'n dat de times am changed, but de hearts
ob true men never change. Does yo’ think dat Abe Overley,
sixth, white, will ever turn his back on Abe Overley, sixth,
black? My Abe say he want to go to College to be a lawyer,
why he not? He go to Sunday School an' teach dem young
'niggers' ebery Sunday, an' Miss Annie Godly she say dat
she can't git ʼlong widouten him.”
“Oh, yes; that is a sure indication he will make a good
lawyer. Who is going to pay for his schooling ?”
“Why, who pay for his ticket to de Fair las’ fall? Sho'
yo' Abe he pay for hit.”
“H— and damnation! You ole fool, don't you know that
it would cost five hundred dollars a year for his schooling ?
What have you got, or has Abe got, to pay five hundred
dollars with ?”
“I could sell my ole mule, an' Baldy, dat would bring
something."
“Why, Abe, you have no more sense in that old black
pate of yours than that d— old kicking mule. Who would
buy the beast? I said five hundred dollars, not fifty cents.
Do you know the difference? Now, who will pay the
money ?”
Abe replied with great solemnity :
“When yo' mammy die, she take our hands an’ she put
dem togedder, an’ she say: 'You two Abes mus' al’ays be
friends, no matter what de world say.' You say, “Yes,'
I say, “Yes.' When yo' wife die, she do like Miss Miranda.
She say to you an' she say to me, and to yo' Abe an' to
my Abe: 'You mus' al’ays be friends an' honor each odder';
dat was mor'n eighteen yeahs ago. Who been yo' Abe's
mammy eber since? How many times when yo' Abe, weak
sor


AS WE SEE IT.
11
an’ sick, habe he crowded my Abe from he own mammy's
breast? Dey sho' mus' go through dis world togedder.”
“Abe, you are a cunning old ‘nigger.' I cannot forget
these things. But conditions are not like they were in the
old days. The Old Homestead is mortgaged, and the crops
are getting worse each year, and every d- ‘nigger' on the
place is talking about going to College. What am I to do
in the next year or two? This dirty sneak, Lashum, holds
the mortgage and he wants to live on the place where the
hound used to boss the ‘niggers,' and I hear that that whelp
of his wants to go to College, too. What is this world coming
to, ‘niggers' and, worse, poor whites, talking of going to
College and being lawyers and doctors ?”
It was early in the year eighteen seventy-six that these old
friends, both of the royal blood, the kind that never knows a
friend but as a friend, and never break, from a friendship
but in death, were thus engaged in a warm discussion as to
the future of their sons.
A word as to the place where we find these representatives
of their respective races, and as to who and what they are.
About the year seventeen hundred and two there came to
this country a sturdy Scotch family, consisting of father,
mother and three sons, possessing nothing but their vigorous
bodies and a strong determination to get along in this new
world. After many wanderings and hardships, they selected
this spot in Alabama, upon which they settled and built their
ancestral home, and upon which we find them. They did not
belong to the people who “gloried in the Holy (?) Institution
of Slavery,” but, owning slaves, they made their burdens as
light as possible.
When the great War of the Rebellion came on the Overleys
were not eager to join their neighbors in their cause; so, as a
consequence, they lived under suspicion, and were in constant
dread lest they should be assassinated or burned out by the


12
AS WE SEE IT.
poor whites who were in those days just as they are today,
ignorant, idle and vicious.
The Rebellion finally ended, leaving this family with its
ancestral home intact, but much reduced in wealth, all of the
stock and animals of value having been carried away by bands
of patriotic (?) rebels for use at the front.
Abe Overley came of a stock of nature's noblemen. He was
tall, straight, broad of shoulder, strong limbed, good featured
and very black—a typical African-but the kind of man that
inspires trust and confidence at a glance.
Abe's parents for four generations had enjoyed the confi-
dence and esteem of the Overleys. The first Abe was bought
by one of the first Overleys at a public auction, he being sold
because he was considered an intractable “nigger,” having
refused to be whipped by the overseer of the plantation upon
which he lived. It was said that Abe was stolen and brought
to this country and sold in slavery. His wild and independent
spirit was never broken.
Overley saw at a glance what the trouble was. As soon as
he had closed his bargain he took the manacles off Abe's arms
and said: “Abe, you are to be my right-hand man. Can I
trust you?” After a long and searching glance, Abe replied:
“You can always trust me; but you nor no living man shall
whip me.”
“Abe, I do not whip my people.”
This bond was never broken.
Before the Rebellion the Overleys had an overseer whose
name was Lashum, Nick Lashum, a long, gaunt, typical
Alabama “cracker,” whose father, grandfather and great-
grandfather before him were overseers, and who never aspired
to anything higher. This man's sole ambition was satisfied
when he became known as Malcolm A. Overley's overseer.
When the war came on it soon began to be whispered about
the State that Nick Lashum was engaged by the Confederate
Government to press animals and stock of all kinds into


AS WE SEE IT.
service, for the good of the cause. There appears to be no
doubt that he “pressed the animals into service," but, accord-
ing to the whisperers, he did not or was not able, owing to
the “press of business,” to account for hundreds of them. It
was even whispered that numerous droves of cattle gathered
by him found their way to the Union lines, much to his profit.
However, at the close of the war, this individual found
himself so well supplied with ready cash that he concluded
to buy a large plantation and settle upon it and live as a
capitalist and planter should. What place should he buy?
There was but one place in all the State of Alabama which
suited him, that was the home of his former employer,
Malcolm A. Overley. But this place was not for sale. The
adjoining plantation was, however, so he acquired this place
and moved upon it.
Mr. Nick Lashum was a man of family, a large and growing
family, a growth peculiar to this particular family of “crack-
ers.” As the wealth and numbers of this family increased
their church-going parties, regaled in all their finery, came
to be the sight of the county, a sight that strangers never
failed to enjoy. This great man,, former overseer, who had
grown so wealthy in such a few years, and one of whose sons
was clerk of the County Court, and another about to be sent
off to College, was looked upon by the “crackers” of his
section of the State as the man who was to lead them back
to the good old times when a "nigger's” hog was the property
of the first “cracker” who could steal it.
How fared the Overleys as the years sped by? Having
been left, after the war, without stock to work the plantation-
thanks to the disinterestedness (?) of Nick Lashum-on behalf
of the cause, and without farm hands to work the crops—sav-
ing the strong arm of Old Abe and his family—things had been
going back. For some time poor crops, poor cattle, and only
a few of them, had been the rule, until, after a family council,
it was decided to mortgage the place and raise money enough
me


AS WE SEE IT.
to stock the plantation as it was in the old days and begin
again. After much dickering and many heartaches, it was
decided to borrow $5,000 from the Pioneer Savings Bank of
A— County, Alabama, Nick Lashum, Jr., cashier. Never
once did Malcolm A. Overley think that Nick Lashum, Sr.,
would advance the money and hold the mortgage, but after
it was all over Malcolm A. Overley had $4,750 and Nick
Lashum, his former overseer, held him bound for five years
for $5,000 at 8 per cent. This mortgage had eighteen months
to run when we find him discussing the advisability of sending
his son, together with Old Abe's son, North to College. Old
Abe felt that his boy should go to College with the white boy.
After long and deep thought Old Abe, with intense feeling,
spoke:
“I thought when I stan' by de bedside of yo' mammy, an'
she place our han's togedder and she say we war al’ays to
stick togedder an' to he'p each odder, an’ when yo’ boy's
mammy die she say de same thing, dat we was to he’p each
odder. I thought when dem Yankee sojers come, an' dey say,
‘Old man, you kin go,' I say, 'No, I dun promise his mammy
to stay an' he'p him through dis life.' I thought when I
teach my boy he mus' stay an' he'p; I thought when I tell
dem odder ‘niggers,' Joe an’ he 'oman, Jack an’ he 'oman,
an’ Cleo an' her gals, to stay, dat I was doin' my duty, dat I
was keppin' my word to de daid. Ise worked on dis ole
plantation well nigh seventy-two yeahs, and Ise good for
twenty mo', but never did I tink dat de time would ebber
come when de Overley would break he word.”
After Old Abe had delivered himself of his speech there
was a long, deep silence. Finally it was broken by Malcolm
A. Overley, with a voice trembling with emotion:
“Abe, you old black fool, who has broken word with you?
I said, I do not see where the money is coming from. That
d- hound's mortgage is due in eighteen months, and I
haven't the money to pay it. He will surely sell me out.


AS WE SEE IT.
15
Now, what shall I do: take this money and send the boys to
College or pay this mortgage ?”
Old Abe answered solemnly:
“Send de boys to College, an’trus’ in de Lawd.”
“Trust in the Lord! That is all you ‘niggers’ think about.
You had better learn to trust in yourselves. However, I have
made up my mind that both boys shall go to Oberlin College.
You can tell that boy of yours that he can go with my boy
when he leaves for College this fall, but I want all the work
done on the place before they go.”
“Thank God!” said Old Abe; “I know'd dat yo' heart is
in de same place dat all de rest of de Overleys is.”
As a fit finale to this discussion, Mammy Cleo blew three
shrill blasts on the supper horn.
Soon the field hands are coming in, as is evidenced by the
vocal sounds of melody that float soothingly to the ears of the
two old friends. First to come through the yard to the great
house is a tall youth, with a delicate face, lit up with clear
blue eyes, with a well-formed head, covered with thick light
hair, which hung about his ears in ringlets, the face, head and
carriage of the man of good blood and breeding. This youth
was Abe, sixth, white. He took a seat on the floor of the
veranda, leaning his back against a post, looked up at his
father and laughingly inquired: “Why, dad, what is the
matter? Have you and Uncle Abe been quarreling over the
stock or over some passage in the Bible, or what?”.
“No, we have not. That old fool thinks I ought to send his
Abe to College with you this fall,'' answered the parent.
“Why, dad, I think he is perfectly right. Abe ought to go
to College; he certainly deserves it."
At that moment a tall young Negro of manly appearance,
a perfect counterpart of Old Abe, came up to the veranda and
sat down. He also observed the faces of the old men.
“Why, dad, what is the matter?” he exclaimed. “Have


16
AS WE SEE IT.
you and Mr. Overley disagreed again on some point in the
Bible, or some point in farming ?”.
“No, d- your black hide,” spoke up Overley, Sr.; "we
have disagreed on you."
“Why, what is the matter with me? Have I not done my
work well ever since I have been old enough to work?”
“Oh, d— your work! I wish I could find some fault in
that line. This old fool insists that I pay $500 a year for
your schooling, until you get through College, that is what
I mean.”
For several moments there was nothing said by any of the
four friends. Finally, the younger Overley said:
“Father, if the money is not to be had, let us fix it this
way. Let Abe here go the first year, and I will stay home
and keep up the place. The next year he will keep up the
place and I will go. He can give me the benefit of what he
has learned when he comes home.”
Abe protests that the white boy is entitled to the first year,
but Overley, Sr., cut the discussion short by announcing that
he had determined that both boys should go to College
together; therefore he didn't want any more “d— talk.”
Both boys then moved away to the corn crib, their favorite
resort, to talk the matter over.
“Abe,” says the black boy, “your father is a mighty good
man to spend all that money on me.”
“Yes, but you and Uncle Abe have been mighty good to us.
What would we have done after the war had your father left
us, or had he said to the rest of the people, 'Let us go North ?'
We would have been left without help or hope. He remem-
bers how Uncle Abe and the rest worked for five years without
being paid one penny, and— ”
“Yes, but your father has paid us in full, paid every
penny,” interrupted the black boy.
“Yes, but off of whose labor ?”


AS WE SEE IT.
17
“No matter, he has paid up. Where in all this State will
you find another white man, who, having had twenty-three
colored people working for him for five years, without pay,
would have paid them one cent? Very, very few. Your
father mortgaged his plantation. If he had not paid us he
would not have had that to do. No, Abe, he is a mighty
good man."
“Yes,” says the white boy, "he is a dear old dad;" then
adds: “Say, Abe, didn't he cuss—Well! So we are to go to
school together?”
“I am sure I do not know; what College are we going to ?”
“Oberlin College.”
“That is the one College in this country that I want to
go through. They say they do not know color there. Just
to think of anyone failing to see whether I am white or
black!” and both boys laughed heartily.
“Say, Abe,” the white boy said, “I hear that Buck Lashum
is to go to College this fall.”
“What College?”
“I do not know," answered the white boy.
“Well, we must not let him know what College we are going
to attend, nor that I am going with you.”
“Why, Abe, what difference does that make?”
“Well, I must say that I feel it would be better to keep
our plans from him until we are gone, at any rate.”
“Abe, you will see what will happen to him if he has
anything to say to me about your going. I haven't forgotten
the thrashing you gave him when he tried to force himself
on my sister Lucy when you drove her to Deaconsville to the
camp meeting last fall,” laughed the white boy. “His black
eyes were such beauties, and they lasted so long. Say, but
dad forgot his rheumatism when he was told what happened.
When they told him that the sheriff had put you in the
cababoose for licking Buck Lashum for insulting Sister Lucy,
gee! how he ran to the harness room, and got a saddle and


CHAPTER II.
POR the benefit of my readers who are not familiar with
the Alabama “crackers" I will give an historical sketch
of the Lashum family, that they may draw their own
conclusion. This family dates back to the last years of the
war for independence; at least, that is the time of the first
record which the State has of its existence. The following
can be found in the Western Bulletin, Monday, September 12,
1709:
“Nick Lashum, who lives in a log cabin on a small clearing
in Foggy Bottom, on Mars Creek, was taken out of his cabin
by a Vigilance Committee and given nine and thirty lashes on
his bare back.
“It appears that the Indians have been drinking and caus-
ing a great deal of trouble lately. The source of their supply
of whiskey could not be ascertained. It was at last determined
by the Vigilance Committee to search Foggy Bottom, where
a few disreputable 'crackers' have squatted. The search
revealed the fact that Nick Lashum was making corn whiskey
and trading it to the Indians in his neighborhood. The
search also revealed the further fact that Nick Lashum was
the leader of a gang of moonshiners who were making corn
whiskey and trading it to the Indians and Negroes in all the
lower counties of the State.
“Nick Lashum and his confederates will be tried at the
next Quarter Session of Court and are likely to get long terms
in the penitentiary.”
Thus the Lashums are ushered into the limelight of history.
No mention is made of what finally became of this Nick
Lashum, but tradition has it that he came back from the
penitentiary to his old haunts and resumed his old habits
until the time of his death, which was hastened by a Vigilance
Committee after Nick had been caught with some cattle upon
which the brand had been changed. This man appears to
19


20
AS WE SEE IT.
have been the progenitor of this race of Lashum, many of
whom proved to be worthy of their sire.
The Nick Lashum of this sketch was a long, gaunt, lean
“cracker” with a thin, sharp face, lit up by a pair of small
gray eyes full of low cunning and treachery, that never looked
you in the face. His head was topped off by a crop of thin
stringy hair, that was entirely unused to care. His garments,
which were gray in color, might have been homespun or
anything else, and hung in loose flaps about his person, the
trousers (?) stuffed into ragged cowhide boots.
This gentleman, a typical “cracker” overseer, having heard
that Malcolm A. Overley wanted an overseer, owing to the
death of Pete Quickly, who had served the Overleys for
twenty-five years, betook himself to the Overley plantation to
apply for the position.
With much fear and many misgivings he finally mustered
up courage enough to pass the portals of the big gate and
make his way to the great house, where he expected to find the
master. As Nick neared the house he removed his hat and
walked slowly up the gravel path, where he was accosted by
Old Abe, who inquired of him who he was, whom he wanted
to see, and upon what business.
At first, Nick was inclined to feel insulted and hurt that a
big black “nigger” should ask him what he wanted. But,
upon second thought, he remembered how near Old Abe was
to the “throne,” so he answered very civilly that he wanted
to see Mr. Overley and wanted the job of overseer.
After some thought Abe concluded he would conduct him
to his master. This was done with many misgivings as to
the future, should he be selected. Nick was cautioned to keep
close to Old Abe, lest the dogs should attack him, as they did
not like “no po' white man, nohow," and to keep his hat
under his arm, where it belonged; all of which Nick was glad
to do; but making a mental vow, however, that he would skin
Old Abe if he succeeded in getting the place of overseer.


AS WE SEE IT.
Turning a sharp bend in the path, Nick, without warning,
came suddenly upon Mr. Overley and his family under the
shade of a large tree, and the sight seemed to deprive Nick
of power of speech. He stood looking at his ragged boots and
holding his hands before him. Mr. Overley sprang to his feet,
looking first at Old Abe, then at Nick, not seeming to com-
prehend the meaning of the intrusion. At last he spoke, and
demanded of Old Abe what this man had done, and why he
had brought him there, the man's demeanor leading him to
believe that he had been trespassing. When he was told that
the man wanted the position of overseer, Mr. Overley laughed
heartily, and the women drew close and examined him very
attentively.
Abe said:
“Dis po' white man come up de walk an’ say he want to see
you 'bout being yo' oberseer. I say he kin see you, but I
guess he kin talk for heself, maybe. Say, Mr. Oberseer, dat
am Mr. Overley. Kin you talk? You hab to talk mor’n dat
to git work outten dem ‘niggers' back in de cotton patch.”
Nick, thus goaded by Old Abe, finally said:
“Sah, Mr. Overley, I heah thet Old Pete was gone an' daid,
an' that you war in need of a man to look arter yo’'niggers.'
My ’oman she say you mought take me on, in Old Pete's place.
I've been hankerin' arter yuse job for a long time, sah.”
“Well,—you have, have you? Where did you work last,
and why did you leave?”
“I worked for Mr. Jim Connors, down on the bottom in
Grove Neck. He sol' all his ‘niggers' an' gone 'way. He
never did lek plantation life. He gin me one ‘nigger,' but I
couldn't feed him, so I took an’ sol' him. He was as no count
'nigger' as you ever see; couldn't git him to do nothin'. Sell
a bad ‘nigger,' sah, same as you sell a bad hoss."
“I have no bad ‘niggers,' neither have I any bad horses ;
all my people are happy and content. I am afraid you would


AS WE SEE IT.
cause them to become dissatisfied. What do you want per
year?''
“Mr. Jim gin me $180 a yeah an' house an’ten acres, the
house free. I git along on that very well, sah.”
“Well, you can see me in two days."
“Yes, sah; my ’oman she say— "
“That is all, sir; you may see me in two days. Abe, see
that the dogs do not molest him.”
Nick, with his hat still under his arm, bowed most pro-
foundly and turned to leave by the path through which he
came
Old Abe called to him, saying:
“Come dis way, white man. Dem dorgs will eat you up
down dat path by yo’sef. What you go dat way for, nohow?
You mus' tink yo' Mars Jim Cornors. De nex' time yo' come
heah yo' come in de way I am now showin' yo' out. If dem
dorgs had seed yo’ fust—well, dey don't like yo’ kin' people,
nohow."
“It strikes me, Abe, yuse a mighty peart ‘nigger.' I sup-
pose yuse is boss heah?”
“Yes, Ise de boss of dis house, an’dem stables, an’dat
garden patch, an' all dem chickens an’ fowls-yo' dunno dat,
does yo'?”
“Oh, I tink it war somethin' like that-yuse welcome.”
By this time their walk had led them to the barnyard, out
of which a lane ran through the cornfield to the main road.
Abe's parting shot was:
“Look out, white man, for dem dorgs when yo' come back
through dis corn patch, an’git yo’hat off befo’ yo' come
through dis gate.”
“Abe, you kin do me a good "
“Dat am all, sah; yo'kin see me in two days,” said Old
Abe, with the most aggravating composure.
Nick stood for a moment glaring at Old Abe; then he turned
and walked hurriedly down the lane toward the main road.


AS WE SEE IT.
23
Owing to Abe's thoughtfulness, Nick had about three-fourths
of a mile farther to walk to get out to the main road on his
way home. Abe watched Nick until he passed out of sight;
then he laughed and remarked to himself:
“Dat man goin' raise de debble on dis heah place some
day.”
Turning to a large brindle hound that watched Nick very
closely during his visit, Abe said to the dog :
“Joe, yo' jus' watch fo' dat po' white man day arter
tomorrow, an’ if he try to open dat gate yo’ jes' stop him;
dat's all.”
The dog seemed to understand what Abe had said, for he
gave Nick's direction a contemptuous glance and walked away
with Abe.
True to his appointment, Nick appeared at the barnyard
gate, hat in hand, but afraid to open it, for there stood Joe
looking at him in no uncertain way. Abe was in the harness
room cleaning harness when Joe, by his growl, let him know
that Nick had arrived. Abe looked through the window and
saw Nick at the gate and resumed his work as composedly as
if he were not there.
“Dat po' white man am com’; well, he can wait or he can
com’in, an' Joe an' de res' of de dorgs will look arter him.”
After about three-quarters of an hour Abe appeared at the
door of the harness room and said:
“Man alives, is dat yo'? I couldn't 'magine what dat dorg
dun saw at de gate. Why yo' not cum in? 'Spec' Mars Abe
cumin' to see yo’ heah? Man, yo’ ain't nebber goin' git
’long on his heah place; yo' too slow.”
“I was afeared of that dorg,” said Nick.
“Well, dat dorg he don't lek no po' white man, dat sho.'
Cum on an' see what Mars Abe goin' say. You sich a noble
lookin' critter dat I sho' Massa goin' have you,” said Abe,
after contemptuously surveying Nick's tattered appearance.


24
AS WE SEE IT.
Nick made a mental note of Abe's observation and vowed to
get even, if the time ever came.
Nick was engaged by Malcolm A. Overley after a long
lecture, in which he was told plainly that he was not to curse
nor abuse any person on the place, and that no whipping was
allowed. When he could not get work out of the field hands
they were to be sent to the great house. Nick did not know
at first what to make of that kind of treatment for Negroes,
but he soon learned. He quickly discovered that he could get
more and better work out of them in that way than he could
by the lash. He continued in the service of the Overleys until
the War of Rebellion.


u
CHAPTER III.
ANHE time finally came for the Overley boys to leave the
old place for College. Quite a discussion arose as to
the names of these boys, each having been known all
his life as Abe Overley, one white, the other black. It was
seen by them, and very properly, that they could not be thus
distinguished while at College. It was finally decided that
one should be Malcolm A. Overley, Jr., and the other Abraham
Overley, Jr. It appears that the Negroes had never been
called Malcolm. The senior Overley on the day of their
departure called both boys into his library for a final word.
He said, with great earnestness :
“You boys are now leaving this place for College. This is
the first time either of you has been from home. You will
meet with temptations, but I expect you both to overcome
them. You will meet them within and without the College
walls. I repeat that I expect you to overcome them. You
both bear a name that has remained unsullied for a century.
I expect it to remain so. I have no fortune as my ancestors
had. I have but their name left. I entrust it to your safe-
keeping.
“You, Malcolm, must remember your mother's last words,
that Abe is your life friend; and Abe, you must remember
that Malcolm is the son of your father's best friend. Need
I say more?”
Abe extended his hand to the elder Overley, who grasped
it heartily. He said:
“I cannot express what I feel, sir, when I consider what
you are doing for me. I can but say that you will never
regret what you do for me. If I live to get through College
I will repay you. I thank you, sir, with all my heart.”
“I do not want your thanks; you deserve what I am doing
for you. All I want you to do is to get through College and
bring my name back as you take it from the old plantation.”
25


CHAPTER IV.
naHE next morning at sunrise both of the old men met at
their usual place on the veranda. They smoked a long
time in silence, which was finally broken by a remark
from the owner of the place.
“Abe, what do you think those boys will want to do when
they get out of College?”.
“I guess your boy will want to go to Congress and my boy
will he'p dese po’ ‘niggers’ git back som’ ob de lan’dat has
been tooken from den by dat Lashum fambly.”
“That would be a good thing for him to do; but I am afraid
his hide would not be worth a picayune when he tries it.”
“Ise hearn him say dat, too. Den he say dat he intends
to try, so he'p him God, when he cum back. Dat boy, he mean
what he say.”
“Well, Abe, what do you think of that boy starting a legal
fight with these poor whites? They are in control of the
county and the Courts and everything else that I know of.
Then, Abe, do you think that it is right for a ‘nigger' to fight
a white man?”
“Well, I tell yo', 'fore de war, when all de ‘niggers' 'long
to som ’body e’se, all dat I hearn am dat de Lawd made a
white man fus', an' dat de white man war made specially by
de Lawd to own an' boss de ‘nigger.' Den I belebe dat de
'nigger' jes' natchuly ’long to de white man. But when dem
white sojers cum heah an' lick de debble outen dese white
folks an’ I see how meek an’ humble lek dey cum to dem, den
I say, What am dis ? Am I right nohow? Is dese white folks
what dey is cracked up to be? Den I see dat Lashum fambly
puttin' on airs an’ silks—the same folks dat I seed 'fore de
war in missus' ole work apron. Den I say, What am dis
world a cumin' to? But when I see all dem trash fishiatin'
'round 'lection day an'havin' all de say, den I say dat de
26


AS WE SEE IT.
27
debble am de boss arter all, an' dat de po' nigger'am de feed
for his fire, an’ dat if de men lek you an' Mr. Jim Cornors
an’ Mr. Big Joe Wheatly don't took an' do somefin' dis
country ain't goin' to las'. Whoever hear'n of anything
lassin' dat dese po' white trash does? Does I tink dat a
'nigger' oughten fight a white man? Dis is what I was
teached. Dat I was to 'spect a white man an'not answer him
back nor hit him. But dem was slavery days. What de dif-
ference now, I dunno.
“I does know dat dem po' white trash on de Neck is a
whole lot wus den me or my people is, an'dat you an' Mr. Jim
an' Mr. Big Joe is a mighty sight better'n dem ‘niggers' what
gits drunk all de time an’ hangs 'round de cross-roads. But
is I as good as you an' de res' ob yo’ friends? Dat keeps me
wake ob nights. My boy he young an' read de books. He
say dat all men is bornd ekil, an' dat a man is what he make
heself. He say dat a man hab no right to say he am as good
as dis one or dat one, because he am a man, but he mus' make
heself a man. He say dat ebry man will find he strata in
'ciety. What he mean by dat?”
“He means his level.”
“He say dat a 'nigger' or po' white man dat say he got a
right to cum to yo' house an 'cum in an' set down, widouten
you ax him in, am a fool. Dat what I tink. I don't let dem
trashy 'niggers' cum to my house, nor does yo' 'low dem po'
white trash to cum heah. But den I jes' don't feel dat Ise fit
to mingle wid yo' gess. No, I don't tink so. Now, when dem
boys cum back from College, dey may or dey may not be
chums; but dey will say how dey will treat each odder at dey
own house. It 'pends ’tirely on who dese people is. I tink
dat a ‘nigger' oughter fight ebry po' white man dat don't treat
him or he kinfolks right. Dat what yo' an' yo'friends
does.”
“That is so, Abe; but I did not think that you felt that way
all together.”
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28
AS WE SEE IT.
After Old Abe had relapsed into silence, Malcolm A. Overley
pondered Abe's remarks for a long time.
“What a change a few years have wrought! Old Abe, d-
his black hide, feels that he is almost as good as me and my
friends! He has doubts on that score. Well, who the h-
would have thought it? But he has sense enough not to push
himself. He holds himself above the low ‘niggers' about here.
He is looked up to by all the 'good niggers' far and near. He
is right to hold himself above these d— poor trashy whites, I
could never understand why these poor whites hated Abe and
his boy so. I see now. There is a natural antipathy between
the two classes. Abe and his kind represent all that is honest
and true, while the poor whites are just the opposite. But can
this boy afford to start a fight with these people just at the
time he comes out of College and with nothing to live upon ?
In spite of myself, I can but admire that boy's pluck and
spirit.
“Well, I guess I will come in for my share of trouble for
sending him off to College. Why, I must be getting babyish.
Who the h— will dare to question an Overley as to his reason
for doing what he thinks proper ?”
Thus he smoked and dreamed for an hour. Suddenly he
exclaimed:
“Abe, you have changed somewhat in the past year or so, it
seems to me.”
“I don't reckon yo' ever axed me dat question befo’. My
boy say dat dere am no mo’ ‘niggers,' but all am 'Merican
citizens, free an’ ekil befo' de law. Dat what he say. Now,
Ise a citizen an'has de rights. What I goin' to let dem po'
white trash bamboozle me oughten dem fo'?”.
“Abe, why do you continually refer to the poor whites ?
Are they the only people who do not treat you right?”
“Why, man alives,” said Abe, with wrath, “don't yo' know
dat de po' white trash am de onliest people in dis whole world
dat am al’ays hollerin' nigger,' 'Jim Crow,' 'social 'quality,'


AS WE SEE IT.
29
'nigger marrying white 'oman,' an' de debble knows what-all
sich fool talk dat causes trouble? Dem very same trash dat
kotches our likely lookin’gals on de road an' drags dem in de
bushes. Dem de people dat sees a hard-workin' nigger' wid
a home, an'a mule, an' a 'fix' to go to church wid, dat gits
up de mob an' hollers dat dis ‘nigger'is arter he wife or gal.
Den dey burn he home, an' barn, an' take he life, an' mule,
an’ hog, an 'fix' to pay de damage. Dem's de trash dat
gemmen lek you an' Mr. Jim an' Mr. Big Joe oughter he'p
us for to fight. 'Fore de war when dem same critters did
steal hogs an' de lek, yo' all did ride to dere cabins an' take
dem out an’ flog deni on dere bare backs. Now, dey do de
same thing more bold; holler rape, an' de whole country is
ridin' an' beatin' ebry ‘nigger' dey meet, an' if he owns a
good hoss dat is better'n dear'n, dey swops hosses wid him
whedder he wants to or no.
“Why, man alives!” said Old Abe, with increasing wrath,
“dese things am ’nuff to make a man bus' wide open, an' dey
is gettin' wus. When dat drunken Smaly boy kotch my Sally
Jane on de road dat night, when you an' Mr. Jim hearn her
holler, hit was a good ting dat yo’ Abe hide dat gun. I run
for de gun fus', but yo' an' Mr. Jim git dere fus'. I sho'
would hab killed him.
“But, Lawdy, how my Abe did walk on him! I think sho'
dat de padroller would git him. I nebber tol' you dat it war
my Abe dat beat him up so. No, sah. I was afraid dat yo'
would think dat a ‘nigger' oughten lick a white man.”
This last sentence was spoken in such a solemn tone that
both men laughed heartily.
“Abe, you are a sly old rascal. You know perfectly well
that I have abused your boy time and again and told him that
he was a coward for allowing that poor white hound to get off
without a thrashing. And you would not tell me? You told
my boy, though. I can now understand why you three devils
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30
AS WE SEE IT.
always grinned in my face every time I spoke of that case.
Told my boy, but would not tell me. Why not me?”
“Well, when dem boys cum to me an’ Abe tol' me what he
dun done, yo' Abe say dat you better not know 'bout it. I
say no, you dun got ’nuff on yo’mind 'thout dat. Dat I war
Abe's daddy, an' dat I war de one to bar de trouble. So I
say, no, an’dat end it.”
“Well, Abe, that was very kind of you. What you say
about those poor white people has long been a source of worry
for me and my friends. Only last night we determined to get
together and try to put a stop to these deviltries. It will be a
hard job. These poor whites are in the saddle now; we have
been asleep too long, and they have taken advantage of every-
thing. We are going to try to stop them by fair means; and,
if not, then we will try the same method we used on them
before the war.”
It appears that the Negro referred to in a previous chapter
as belonging to Nick Lashum—he having been given to
Lashum by Mr. Jim Connors, and sold by Nick as a worthless
'nigger'-had, after the war, accumulated some property and
had a good home, upon which he reared a family of nine
children, the eldest of whom was a man of family and taught
the County School for colored children. This young man had
a wife and three children. He rode a very fine colt to and
from his school, which was some distance from his home.
There was but one other horse in that end of the State which
could hold his own at the County Fairs with this colt, and
that horse belonged to young Malcolm A. Overley. This
Negro's horse was the envy of every poor white man in that
section. Often was the remark made that that horse was too
good for a ‘nigger,' and that he must have stolen it.
Finally, the man appeared who lost (?) the colt, although
it was well known that this colt was sired by Malcolm A.


AS WE SEE IT.
31
Overley's horse, “Ben,” known all over the State by its color
and markings.
One warm July night, while this old Negro and his family
were sitting about the front of their home, a party of horsemen
were heard coming down the road. Nothing was thought of
that until the sound of horses' hoofs was heard coming up the
back road toward the rear of the place. Suddenly all sounds
ceased; then a pistol shot was heard; then a rush of horses'
hoofs; and before one of the astonished Negroes could gather
his wits volleys from shotguns and revolvers were fired
amongst them, killing and maiming men, women and children
alike. The old father, the young schoolmaster and his young-
est child, who was asleep on his lap, were killed. The wife,
who was about to become a mother, was trampled to death
beneath the horses' hoofs, before she could drag herself out
of the way. The dwelling and barn were fired in a dozen
places at once. Both buildings, together with their contents,
save the colt in question, were consumed.
The Alabama News, the leading newspaper of the State at
that time, had the following conservative account of this
tragedy:
THE UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN LIBRARIES
“George Burrell, a Desperate Negro, Whose Desperate Deeds
Date Back Before the War, and His Son, Who Was
Following in His Father's Footsteps, and Two More of
His Desperate Family, Wiped Out by Sheriff C. Lashum
and a Posse of Citizens.
“It appears that a Deputy Sheriff went earlier in the day
to the cabin of George Burrell to replevin the colt that Burrell
had stolen. The Deputy Sheriff was met at the door by
Burrell and his son, both armed with double-barrelled shot-
guns, and his life threatened if he dared to serve his papers.
"The Sheriff was notified and the papers were served with
the above result. It appears that in the fight which ensued
upon the service of the papers the lamp was overturned and


AS WE SEE IT.
the cabin was soon in flames, which, in turn, spread to the
barn, both buildings being entirely consumed.
“It is to be regretted that a Negro woman and two small
children were trampled upon by horses; but the citizens claim
that the horses became unmanageable when the fire started.
“A Coroner's jury, which was empanelled on the spot,
exonerated the Sheriff and his Deputies, as it was clearly
shown that the Negroes resisted the service of a legal paper.
“It will be well for the Negroes and all concerned when
they learn not to resist the law, but to submit to the lawful
service of papers as white men do.”
exonera that the well for the law, but
This conservative account of a most atrocious and bloody
deed was heralded to the outside world as another example of
Negro depravity, degeneracy and disregard for the law and
its representatives. This paper sent out this account without
investigating the case, and based its report upon the statement
made by one of the parties who participated in the killing.
The facts are as follows:
The party who sought to replevin the horse well knew that
he could not maintain the suit, if it were presented to the
Court in the regular way. So it was determined to put the
two principal witnesses, the old Negro and his son, out of the
way, which was done very successfully. The finding of the
Coroner's Jury, which was composed of members of the mid-
night marauders, empanelled on the spot, was not questioned.
The Sheriff was there with his papers, and the Deputy Sheriff
who swore that he was at the place earlier in the day and was
met by the old Negro father and son with guns in their hands,
was also there, although, as a matter of fact, he was not on the
place prior to his coming with the mob, who were bent on
killing a prosperous Negro and his family. All these things
were known to persons in the neighborhood, but the machinery
of the law was in the hands of the murderers and nothing
could be done. The attention of the Governor of the State
was called to the case, together with the fact that what was
left of the family had been driven from that section of the


AS WE SEE IT.
33
country and their property practically confiscated. The
Governor was informed by his special agent, Garrington, that
the Negroes resisted the lawful service of a legal paper, and
that all the killings naturally followed the unlawful acts of
the Negroes.
The loss of property and the driving from home of helpless
children by the Lashums was not gone into. Everything was
regular and according to law.
This outrage is what brought Malcolm A. Overley and his
friends together. We shall see later what good was done by
this combination of law-abiding white citizens.


CHAPTER V.
A
BOUT one week after the boys had gone, two letters
arrived. Both began :
“Dear Father: We arrived safe and sound. So
did Buck Lashum.”
Each father instinctively looked at the other, and read the
other's thoughts. Each felt that this announcement meant
trouble for his boy.
The letters contained the statements that the boys were
through with their examinations; that both had passed with
credit, and had been assigned to their respective classes.
They had secured adjoining rooms, but were very much
disappointed to learn that Buck Lashum had secured a room
on the same floor, across the hall on the front tier, overlooking
the campus-one of the rooms sought by the rich boys.
They also spoke of the boys of different nationalities who
were attending the College. There were Englishmen, Scotch-
men, Italians, Spaniards, Japanese, Chinese, Negroes, French-
men, Germans, and one Persian of a noble family.
As all the young men spoken of in the letter met in the
chapel at devotional exercises and at the mess table, the
Southern boys, led by Buck Lashum, not understanding the
sentiment which prevailed at this College, promptly waited
upon the President, the grand old Dr. Finley, and requested
that the Negroes, also the Japanese, Chinese and the Persians,
be seated at a separate table, so that the gentlemen of the
South could enjoy their meals without feeling that they were
degrading themselves by eating with “niggers.”
The President of the College listened very attentively to
these students, then asked: “Do you know who these young
men are? And what is your objection ?”


36
AS WE SEE IT.
“You young men who come from the South may think you
are right because you have been taught these ideas; but you
young men who have never been South must have borrowed
these ideas, which are no credit to you.
“As President of this College, I will inform you, gentle-
men, that the College will continue to stand by its old rules
and customs, and live up to the sentiment which has always
dominated it, and if in any way the table does not suit you
gentlemen, you will be permitted to have a table at which
you may enjoy yourselves as your sense of dignity may dictate.
These young men are students here in the same sense that
you are, entitled to all the rights and consideration to which
you are entitled. It is not the policy of this College to
humiliate one student at the behest of another. I am rather
astonished at this proceeding. You gentlemen have just
entered College. You have been here but three weeks, and
yet you come to me with a request for me to unsettle a policy
which was established forty years ago. Am I to consider you
a disturbing element ?
“My advice to all of you is, look well to your books; look
well to your lectures ; look well to yourselves, lest these same
boys whom you now hold in such contempt outstrip you when
examination day comes, and leave the management of the
College to those upon whom that duty devolves.”
With these words, spoken in a kindly voice, but in no
uncertain way, the President arose and the interview was
at an end.
When this delegation was well out of hearing of the
President's office, Buck Lashum burst forth with an oath,
saying:
“Who would have thought that a white man would have
said that a ‘nigger' is as good as a white inan, and that a
white man can eat at a side table if he don't like the ‘niggers'
being present!
“I, for one, will write home and tell my pappy that I am


AS WE SEE IT.
37
sick from eating with ‘niggers' and want to come home. He
will send for me by the next mail.”,
The next speaker was a boy who came from a “copperhead”
family of Southern Indiana by the name of Bloxum. This
family possesses nothing but a reputation for aping aristo-
cratic people and forming friendships with the newly rich
of their neighborhood.
There appeared to be something in Buck Lashum for
Bloxum, hence the newly formed friendship.
“Buck, don't do nothing of the sort; stay right here and
let's give them h— These ‘niggers’ have no business here;
we can freeze them out.”
“That is right,” spoke up the rest; “we can arouse enough
sentiment to force the faculty to put them out.”
“We can write home and ask our people to write here,
saying that the 'nigger' must go,” said Bloxum.
Then spoke up young Bucker:
“Well, you fellows can do that if you choose, but I am
going to take Dr. Finley at his word and let this thing alone.
I didn't want to mix up with this affair in the beginning,
anyhow. My father has no money to waste on me fooling
with other people's business. I must make my time count
while I am in College."
“Just like you,” said Bloxum, “afraid of your shadow.
Well, I guess we can find enough white men in this College
to carry this thing through.”
“We will try without you," said the rest.
"That is what you will have to do,” replied Bucker.
When this visit to the President became known, and what
these young men had attempted to do, the foreigners were
astonished. Being of royal blood, they could not understand
what was meant by the attitude, and the request preferred,
and took just the opposite view, thinking that the common
people were afraid to sit with royalty, and, therefore, under-
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AS WE SEE IT.
took to explain to Lashum and Bloxum their willingness to
waive the point in etiquette so long as they were in school.
When the students learned that the foreigners had con-
descendingly endeavored to waive this point in etiquette and
were willing that these protesting boys should eat at the same
table with them, the jibes and shafts of wit and sarcasm
thrust at them by the students would have been unbearable to
persons of refinement and culture, but were completely lost
upon these boys—one the son of a former overseer of six
generations of overseers, the other the son of a “copperhead,”
whose natural characteristic is what the word “copperhead"
is meant to imply.
Consequently, in the density of their ignorance and self-
conceit they failed utterly to appreciate the ridiculous position
in which they had placed themselves. Both Buck and his
friend Bloxum failed to pass the examinations which had
been passed with credit by the boys whom they presumed to
condemn; but they were permitted to go on conditionally.
Buck felt that he was white and that that was all that was
necessary.
By the end of the first quarter he had learned better.


CHAPTER VI.
YT IS now Christmas time following the departure of the
1 boys. We find the two Old Abes before the great fire-
place smoking and discussing their absent sons. Suddenly
Overley changed the conversation by remarking:
“Abe, I am expecting some friends here tonight. Mr. Jim
Connors sent me word that he would come over and stay a
couple of days; so I have invited some of the old family heads
to join us, as I think it a fit time to discuss ways and means
to put a stop to these cussed 'crackers' carryings on. Big
Joe Wheatly, the Postmaster, Sam Hurry, and the only one
left in office who belongs to my circle of friends, Dr. Jack
Cushing, the minister, Rev. Dr. Snell, and— "
“The minister ?” interrupts Abe. “I hope, sah, dat you
will ’member he presence an' not forgit yo' presence ob mine
an’ say nothin' dat he will feel called on to pray fo' you fo'.
You 'member what you done do de las' time he war under
dis roof?” (Overley having been guilty of using some very
strong language in reference to the Doctor's sentiment on
Slavery.)
“Abe, who the h- made you my censor? Who ".
“What dat? Who made me what? What you mean by
dem big words? Dat one ting dat I al’ays take count on when
I gits right whar you oughter listen; den you go on wid yo'
big words, tell somehow I loses count of what Ise goin' to
say, an’den you is seen larfin' to yo’se 'f lek de debble. Yo'll
not be able al’ays to talk outen my sight. I promise you dat."
“Abe, I did not mean to offend you; but you know that I
am not sickly and weak like I was seventy years ago. Maybe
you have forgotten that I am the head of the family, and that
I may talk as I see fit."
“Yes, sah, dat am true ’nuff; but de good Lawd am sholy
takin' count ob how de haid ob de house is 'havin' hese'f.
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39


40
AS WE SEE IT.
Dare am jes’ one ting dat de Lawd seem negleckful 'bout, an’
dat am yo' soul. Me an' my 'oman has bin axin' de Lord
to sho’ you de erer ob yo’ way for mor'n fifty yeahs, but all
to no puppose.
“Let me axe you, what you goin' do, what you goin' say
when de great day done cum, an’de rocks an’ de mountains
hab all fleed 'way, an' de sea shall be as a burnin'flame; when
de great Jehover hab done cum to jedg dis world; when de
'corden angul dun gits down to yo’ name an’ he dun read all
dem bad an'awful words dat you dun say an' dat he hab got
agin you? What you goin' say? Huh? What you goin'
say? It do seem to me sometimes dat yo’ is suttenly foolin'
wid de Lawd. Duz you 'member Miss Miranda, what she say
when she jine our han’s togedder jes' befo’ de Lawd done took
her 'way? I axe you, duz you 'member? She say: 'Cum close
to me, I wants to tell you both what de Lawd has done fo' me,
kase I has al’ays trusted Him.' Duz you 'member dat she
say: 'Oh, Lawd, Thy will be done.' Den her haid drap an'
she dun gone to Hebben. Duz you 'member dat you is de
onny pusson on dis heah 'hole plantation dat has nebber gib
he soul to de Lawd? You is a old man now, sah, an'hab but
a few mo' days to linger on dis heah eart'. You is in good
mine an’ body today, but you don't know what mout be de
matter tomorrow. Duz you not feel de lonel’ness ob bein'
outen de Lawd? Duz you not feel dat tim’hab done cum
fo’you to spoke to de Lawd an'axe Him to forgin you all yo'
many sins? Duz you not feel dat a old man is safer in de
Lawd's fole dan he is outen it? Duz you tink dat you will
be so peaceful an' happy as Miss Miranda when she died-
when she smile an’ say: 'Lawd, Thy will be done!'".
Abe observed that his friend's eyes were filled with tears
and that he was greatly affected by his reference to the past,
and asked him if he would not then and there throw himself
upon the Lawd. Overley seemed on the point of opening his
heart to God, when there was a knock at the door and Lucy


AS WE SEE IT.
announced Jim Connors and Big Joe Wheatley. As both
men strode into the room Overley stood looking at them with
a tear-stained face, but unembarrassed. Abe observed the
interruption and noted the harm done by their untimely
arrival; but he bowed his head and murmured:
“Lawd, Thy will be done."
To their question as to what ailed him, Overley said quietly
and with great seriousness that Abe had almost persuaded
him to become a Christian. Big Joe Wheatley laughed and
observed that from his appearance Abe must have persuaded
him that he was an infant again. He also wanted to know
how long Abe had been doing missionary work among the
heathen.
Jim Connors took a more serious view of the matter and
wanted to know what Abe had said. Connors had had a very
pious Catholic mother and had never forgotten her last words,
although he had not followed her parting advice. When he
was told what Abe had said of the death-bed scene of Mrs.
Miranda Overley, he, too, was visibly affected. The words
brought back to his memory a similar experience. He sat
silent and thoughtful for a long time. Finally, he broke the
silence, which had become painful, with the remark:
“Malcolm, I remember your mother's death as well as if it
were yesterday, instead of thirty years ago. Of course, I
remember my own mother's death better, although she has
been dead more than thirty odd years. But they were both
good Christian women, and both left us with the request on
their dying lips that we trust in the Lord. Has either of us
done so? I will say that I have not. What have you to
say for yourself?”.
“Jim, at times I have considered this question of eternity
very seriously, but have never gotten to the point where I
could reconcile all the various obstacles that have arisen in
my mind. I do honestly wish that I had.”
“Yes, yes, Malcolm, I have no doubt that it would have
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42
AS WE SEE IT.
been better for us both had we followed our mothers' parting
advice. We are old men now "
“Is it too late now?”' exclaimed a voice from the hall, and
the good minister, Rev. Dr. Snell, came into the room. In
the seriousness of the discussion Lucy's announcement of
Dr. Snell's arrival had not been noticed. He had heard the
latter part of what was said while being relieved of his hat
and outer coat.
"I do not feel that it is too late, nor do I feel that there
is any particular hurry about the matter. I just cannot get
my mind around to the point where I feel that it is necessary
for me to become a Christian," answered Overley.
“Doctor, that is also the way I feel concerning the matter,"
said Jim Connors.
“Oh, brothers, let me tell you what the Lord has done for
you. You are poor insects as compared with Him. He could
have crushed you out of this life long ago, but He has spared
you for some good purpose. You are old men now, well nigh
eighty years of age, though still hale and hearty. Have you
nothing to be thankful for?”
“Oh, yes, we have our fallen fortunes to be thankful for,”
said Big Joe Wheatley.
“Oh, my brother, you always strike a bitter chord when
you speak of our fallen fortunes. Years back, when the
colored people were our bonded servants, we always had the
means of raising ready money; but now we have to content
ourselves with the crops and rents. Some years are good, but
most are bad. God in His wise providence may send the
good old days back again.”
“God forbid !" said the three men in chorus.
“I was born on a plantation where there were over one
hundred slaves. I came into possession of all those men,
women and children. I fought to maintain our cause; but,
God forbid that those days of bondage may ever come again,"
was the remark of Jim Connors.


AS WE SEE IT.
Big Joe Wheatley remarked:
“I, too, was born on a plantation peopled with dozens of
slaves. The old place belongs to me now. My former slaves
are now my tenants; some few have bought the places on
which they live. But I never want to see these people in
slavery again. No, I hope that our fair Southland will never
again be cursed with human slavery.”
“But, Doctor, I do not understand how you can wish for
what you call the good old times. You lived North before
the war and saw nothing of the slave system, only when you
visited your old uncle here at Christmas time. How do you
know that those were good old times?”
“I always heard uncle refer to them as the good old times,"
was the Doctor's hesitating reply.
Old Abe had been seating the guests, a number of whom
had arrived. He had also been a close listener to the remarks
of the good minister.
Upon leaving the room he mumbled to himself:
“Dat preacher man he beate de debble. He a good man one
way. He sho' can 'zort de sinners to tu’n from dey crooked
ways; but den he al’ays droppin’sumfin’sly lek 'bout de good
slavery day; 'bout de war times ; 'bout he wish dat slavery
cum agin’; 'bout de Yankee sojers, when he a Yankee hesef.
He onny cum heah to lib arter his uncle die an’ lebe him dat
plantation. My Abe say he a sturdin'element.. Well, nobody
in dis heah house wants slavery to cum agin'. I thank God
fo' dat.”
After Abe had gone, Overley called the attention of his
friends to what was done and said at the last meeting.
It was soon agreed that a set of resolutions should be
adopted and published as a warning to all persons engaged
in these midnight killings.
The resolutions were as follows:
“WHEREAS, Murder, arson, rape, riots and outrages of vary.
ing degrees are of frequent occurrence in this county; and
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44
AS WE SEE IT.
indi, do pled that we, theages, there filling to come constituted
“WHEREAS, It appears that the regularly constituted
authorities do not seem able nor willing to cope with the
perpetrators of these outrages; therefore, be it
“Resolved, That we, the following-named law-abiding citi-
zens, do pledge our support, our purses and our persons
individually and collectively, to the county authorities and
to EACH OTHER for the suppression of all kinds of lawlessness.
It is further
“Resolved, That these resolutions be published and posted,
in order that all persons may learn them and govern them-
selves accordingly.”
After much discussion it was finally agreed that a contest
should be made in an effort to wrest the office of sheriff from
the Lashum family. Little Joe Wheatley was named for the
office. After an old-fashioned Christmas dinner, enlivened
by wit and good-fellowship, the committee adjourned, subject
to the call of the newly elected chairman, James Connors.


CHAPTER VII.
77 THEN the two boys had started to College, as pre-
M V viously related, they were both shaken by conflicting
emotions. Neither had ever been from home before,
but both were determined to succeed.
“Abe, suppose I fail in the examination? How could I
look father in the face again ?” said Malcolm.
“You fail! How could you possibly get that idea in your
head? You will never fail,” said Abe. “Did you notice
those Lashum and Smaly boys at the station? What a nasty
look they gave us when we got on the train? Well, they are
far behind now, and we have nothing to fear from them. It
is awful to live among people whom you have to watch all
the time people that only let you alone because they fear
you. Those Smalys are surely going to do me some harm
some day. I feel it.”
“Abe, you are getting daffy. I have seen those people drive
in the ditch to let you pass in the center of the road. Why do
you look for trouble from them ?”
"That is just it. You don't seem to understand the nature
of these 'crackers.' When they show their teeth or obse-
quiously drive in the ditch to let you pass them on the road,
or offer to shake hands when you meet them, look out for
yourself; guard your haystacks and barns and keep off the
dark roads at night when alone. I have seen the result of
so many accidents (?) to haystacks and lone Negroes that my
heart grows sick, and it's getting worse.”
“Well, Abe,” said Malcolm, “do not take the gloomy side
of this affair to rest your judgment upon. There are other
things to talk about just now. What will we do when we
get to Oberlin? I think it a good thing for us to see President
Finley as soon as we get there, and ask his advice as to the
courses we shall take in school,” continued Malcolm.
45


46
AS WE SEE IT.
“I think that is a very good idea, indeed. We certainly
should have some definite object in mind. We must explain
to President Finley what schooling we have had and what
we want to do in the future and let him advise us.”
“Well, Abe, we will do that. Abe, there is another thing
about which I want to have an understanding with you. You
have already said that you would not agree to room with me
even if we could get a large room with two beds. I do not
blame you for that. We must have adjoining rooms, however.
What do you say to that?”
“That has been my desire from the first, but I did not so
express myself, because I am not Malcolm A. Overley, Jr. I
am simply Abe Overley, Jr., and have no right to make my
expenses at College one cent more than is absolutely neces-
sary.”
“Well, that is just what I expected you to say. Father
told me, and he told you, that you are to have and fare the
same as I do. Now, Abe, you know my father and you know
me. You know that if you were not to have the same advan-
tages that I enjoy you would never have been sent from home.
You will wound my father's feelings very much if you ever
let him know that you entertained any such ideas. Now that
is settled, there is one other thing. I promise you that I
shall join no society, no team, without your knowledge, and
I think we should consult before either of us does anything
that may affect our relations or our futures. Do you agree
to that?”
“I do. I agree most willingly. I suppose you will come
to me if you see a girl you like, and say, 'Abe, I am sweet on
Miss Silks. Do you think I had better try to win her?'”
“Well, what would you say to that?” asked Malcolm.
"I would ask you for twenty-four hours, and then I would
look up her family, and if she had no 'cracker' blood in her
I would say, 'Go in and win her.'”


AS WE SEE IT.
The next day but one after their arrival they were able to
get a few minutes with the good President, Dr. Finley. After
they had stated who they were and whence they came and
the circumstances under which they came to College to the
President, he, after some thought, dismissed them with a
request that they come to him again.
The boys' story had greatly impressed Dr. Finley, and he
was desirous of consulting his friend, George Billings Done-
well. As Dr. Finley and Mr. Donewell sat next evening in
the Doctor's library their conversation turned to the College
and new students.
“Donewell,” said the Doctor, “I have two students here
this year whom I shall watch with a great deal of interest.
They came here together under most peculiar circumstances.
First, let me describe them. Both are about six feet tall; one
is very white, with curly chestnut brown hair, blue eyes, ruddy
complexion; he does not look nor act like a Southern-born boy.
The other is as black as the first boy is white; six feet, good
features, with curly black hair of a peculiar texture, a perfect
specimen of physical manhood. They appear to enjoy each
other's confidence to an unusual degree. They gave me their
history and how they came to be here. It appears that the
white boy's father is of an old family of Alabama as old as
the State itself. And the Negro comes from a slave family
that has served the white boy's people for generations. It
appears, further, that the respective fathers are close friends,
and the white father, though reduced in circumstances, with
a heavy mortgage hanging upon his home, is sending his black
friend's boy here to College with instructions to me that I
look after them both and that they are to fare alike. I tell
you, Donewell, these Southern people are a puzzle to me.”
“Doctor, you do not know them. You know that I have
lived and traveled in every State in the South, both before
and since the war. I have had an opportunity to study them
psychologically and commercially. There are two separate


48
AS WE SEE IT.
and distinct classes of white people in those States, as separate
and distinct as if they were not Caucasians. I refer to the
old blue blood families and the people who are commonly
designated as 'crackers.' The old blue bloods these days are
reduced financially, but their blood remains pure. They
would not consent to a daughter or a son marrying a
'cracker' any more than they would consent to a marriage
with a Negro. This ‘cracker' element was, before the war,
the overseer class; now they are the policemen and street car
people, and men working along those lines. They are non-
progressive, always have been and apparently always will be.
There are rare exceptions, however, where you will find one
of this class possessed of any amount of brains-brains in the
broad sense of the word. Men of this class prefer Negro
women to their own, and they are entitled to their share of
responsibility for the very large number of mulattoes that are
found in the Southern States. In traveling through Maryland
I heard, in fact, I saw all the parties to the following story :
A white man by the name of Scotch lived with an old black
woman who bore him several children, two girls among them,
the eldest of whom was a large, well-developed country girl,
about twenty years of age when I first saw her. This father
persuaded his daughter to come to him in a cabin where he
lived. The girl was gone from home for two days and nights.
The cabin, the girl, the man, all bore evidence of the two days'
struggle. This is an extreme case, but it will give some idea
of the nature of this race of white men who live south of us,
and who are fast coming amongst us, bringing their uncouth
and semicivilized manners and customs. The other class, while
they will risk life and fortune for a handsome mulatto or
octoroon, will also educate their offspring.”
“Yes, but this does not appear to be a case of that kind.
This boy is a full-blooded Negro. There must be some tie that
binds these people other than that referred to by you. I
shall watch this case with great interest. They have asked


AS WE SEE IT.
my advice, which I shall gladly give them. Do you remember
having met a man by the name of Lashum-Nicholas Lashum
-in A- County, Alabama ?”
“Oh, yes! I met him, or, rather, his family, ten or twelve
years ago. One of the family was sheriff of the county, and
I think that one of this family has been sheriff of that county
ever since the war. It is a very large family and one of
whom some of the citizens of A- County are not very
proud. The elder Lashum was notorious in the State during
the war. He made his money in some questionable way during
that period. I met them in the course of business while in
that county. I also met some very fine old Bourbons in that
part of the State.
“These young men to whom I refer both came from that
county. Overley is the name,” said Dr. Finley.
“Why, I remember the Overley plantation very well. I
spent two days upon it. I was greatly impressed with the
cordial welcome extended to me by the Overleys. I remember
the perfect friendship that seemed to exist between Mr.
Overley and his former slave, Abe, than whom a more perfect
specimen of physical manhood I never saw. The two sons
were like their respective fathers, and each seemed to enjoy
the complete confidence of the other. I was struck by the
simplicity and beauty of the lives of the people on that planta-
tion. There appeared to be only one thing lacking-funds.
I sold the Lashums a large bill of goods, but Overley told me
frankly that he had no money and could not purchase any-
thing at that time. I offered to send him what he wanted and
take his word for the money, explaining to him that I owned
the plant and no one would ever push him for payments.
After a consultation with his black man, Abe, he refused my
offer. I will always remember that home.”
“You will have an opportunity to study that family from
another point of view. These boys are no doubt the little
fellows whom you saw while at their home.”
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AS WE SEE IT.
“When you see them again, Doctor, I would like to be
present. I want to note what changes ten years have made
in them."
Mr. George Billings Donewell was one of those rare char-
acters sometimes found in this selfish world, who have been
successful, and who delight in helping others. He advanced
a peculiar "code of ethics," as he termed it, based wholly on
the Golden Rule, “Do unto others as you would have them
do to you.” His theory was that all men are born free and
equal; but as God, in His wise providence, endows some men
in a greater degree than others, that those persons so endowed
hold their endowments in trust for their weaker brothers. He
believed that Dr. Finley, having been endowed with great
mental faculties and the power to comprehend and digest
great educational problems, was in duty bound to disseminate
his knowledge and to hold it in trust for all mankind. So
also with the man endowed with the faculty for accumulating
wealth. He believed that he was required to use that wealth
for the benefit of mankind. Mr. Donewell argued and lived
up to this theory :
First, that a man's duty is to God, who made him.
Second, that a man's duty is to the family that God has
given him.
Third, that a man's duty is to his distressed worthy brother.
Should a man be successful in this world, financially, his first
duty is to provide for his family; but all over and above their
wants and needs he holds in trust for mankind.
Many are the young men who have passed through Oberlin
College and felt the aid of a helping hand, but never discov-
ered whence this help came, so careful were Dr. Finley and
Mr. Donewell that their good offices should not be heralded.
Two days after their first conference with the President,
Dr. Finley sent for our Alabama friends and had a long talk
with them, at which Mr. Donewell was present. The Doctor
advised them as to the courses he thought proper for them to


CHAPTER VIII.
YN THE early morning following the two boys, together
Il with several other young men, set out for the river.
They had gone but half the distance when they were
overtaken by a 'bus load of young people, boys and girls,
bound for an outing. As the 'bus passed, Malcolm noticed
several female classmates whose names he had not yet learned.
“Who is the young lady with the dark hair and eyes? The
one on the end of the seat?” asked Malcolm of young Forbes,
a resident of Oberlin.
“Why, that is Miss Donewell. She lives on Main Street.
Her father is worth a million, but you would not think he
had doughnuts if you saw him on the street. The other girls
next to her are New Yorkers—sisters—Chiswells—father is a
wholesale druggist. They will graduate this year, I believe.
I will take you up to see them tomorrow if you desire to be
presented.”
“Certainly, I will only be too glad to avail myself of the
opportunity. But what about my chum, Abe? Will you be
as glad to present him as you are to present me?” asked
Malcolm.
“Why, of course I will. He is black enough, but appears
to be a gentleman.”
“What do you think the young ladies will say ?” questioned
Malcolm.
“You do not seem to realize one thing," answered Forbes.
“I have lived here all my life and I know the sentiment of
this College. There is a fraternal feeling that prevails here.
All students are treated alike. These young ladies will
receive him very cordially, take my word for it.”
The young men soon arrived at the river. Some busied
themselves digging grubworms; others prepared a camp; the
others strolled about the banks looking for a good place to
cast the lines.


AS WE SEE IT.
53
Malcolm and Forbes were amongst those who went up the
stream. Just as they turned a bend in the river a short dis-
tance from the camp, Abe, who had remained behind, heard
Malcolm's voice ring out clear and sharp: “Stop that! Stop
that! You are upsetting the boat!”
Abe knew from the ring in Malcolm's voice that something
unusual was happening, and he hastened to the bend in the
river, as did some of the others, to see what the trouble was.
They observed a boat containing five persons—three girls
and two young men-coming down the stream. One of the
men stood in the middle of the boat, rocking it violently. The
girl who was sitting in the bow of the boat lost her balance and
was about to slip overboard. This young man, whose name was
Rattles, heard Malcolm's warning; but, in defiance, gave the
boat one more violent tilt, which caused it to careen, and when
it righted again Miss Donewell fell overboard, dropping head-
first into the water. As the boat lost her weight, Mr. Rattles's
position caused it to careen violently to the other side, and he
was thrown into the water also. When each came to the sur-
face the current had carried the boat out of their reach. Mr.
Rattles grasped Miss Donewell about the shoulders and held
her head under the water wbile trying to keep his own above.
Malcolm and Forbes both sprang into the water and were soon
at the girl's side, but could not loosen Rattles's l old upon her.
She was apparently being: exhausted by being kept under the
water so long. Abe saw the trouble from the shore, and, spring-
ing into the water, was soon within reach of them. Without a
moment's hesitation he dealt Rattles a blow between the eyes
which dazed him. Abe then pushed Rattles's head under the
water, which caused him to loosen his hold on the girl and to
grasp Abe. Malcolm and Forbes soon got the young lady to
the river's bank, which was not more than twenty yards
distant. But Abe came near losing his life. Rattles suc-
ceeded in getting a hold on him which Abe could not break.
Abe's only recourse was to keep under the water and swim


AS WE SEE IT.
mind against Abe, Malcolm and Forbes. Rattles was a West-
ern boy of good family, true-hearted, but a little faulty in
judgment at times.
“Say, Mr. Rattles,” began Buck, “I hear that you were
given a wrong turn on Black River last Saturday. That
‘nigger,' Abe Overley, is bigger than you are or he would
never have dared to do what he did.”
“No,” said Bloxum, “if I were you I would not stand for
such treatment at the hands of a ‘nigger.' He is running
about now crowing and saying how he smashed you between
the eyes. That fellow he came here with makes a fool of
him. The idea, taking a ‘nigger' to call on a white woman!”
“Why, Mr. Rattles," again urged Buck, “are you going to
stand for that? Look at your face! Just think of it! A
'nigger' hit you! Go to the Dean and complain. We will go
with you and help you out. This ‘nigger' is too free with his
fists." Buck evidently remembered his own encounter with
Abe.
“Rattles, come and go to the Dean,” said Bloxum ; “Buck
and myself heard him say what he had done and what he
expected to do before long.”
“What did he say that he had done?” asked Rattles.
“Why, that you are the biggest cur he had ever met, and
all he wanted was just one chance at Dr. Finley's son and
he would be satisfied.”.
“Well, that seems strange to me. Abe refused to go with
the young ladies that day ; but insisted on staying with me.
“He not only stayed with me, but reduced the swelling in
my face, smoothed the matter over with the Faculty, and
went with me to Mr. Donewell's home when I offered my
apologies. In fact, he has acted like a man in the whole
affair. He is my friend. He has just left my room. Maybe
you gentlemen would like to have me call him? He is with
Forbes and two or three others across the hall.
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AS WE SEE IT.
“We don't want him. We don't associate with ‘niggers,'”
said Buck.
Rattles surprised them both by springing to his feet and
opening the door, saying:
“Go! Go, and go quick! Who sent for you? Who asked
for your advice? Who asked for your aid? You are both
liars. I do not believe one word you have told me. I say
this man is my friend. And you dare to come to me with
your lies about him. I never want to see your faces in my
room again.”
The three young men were now in the hallway. Rattles, in
his anger, had elevated his voice above the others, and
attracted the attention of several of the young men who were
in the adjoining rooms, among them being Abe, Malcolm and
Forbes.
“What is the matter with Rattles?” asked Forbes.
“He has his Western dander up. He is out on the prairie
now, not out on the water,” said Hawkins, Rattles's chum.
“Oh, he's got it in him. Say, Rattles, old boy, what is the
matter?” asked Hawkins.
“These fellows have taken it upon themselves to come to
my room to insult my friends,” said Rattles. “What do
you think of them ?”
“Come in my room, fellows,” said one of the young men ;
“we are not permitted to stand in the hallways. Do not
leave, gentlemen,” he added, noting that Buck and Bloxum
were moving away ; "you are welcome, and, further, it will
be necessary for you to explain the nature of this insult of
which Rattles complains."
All the boys, about fifteen in number, crowded into the
room, Buck and Bloxum among the number, though they were
not very willing to enter.
“Gentlemen,” said Hawkins, "an unusual thing has hap-
pened. One gentleman has passed the lie to two others. And,
further, has ordered those gentlemen never to put their faces


AS WE SEE IT.
57
in his room again. According to the ‘Unwritten Law' of this
College, the offending party must apologize or fight. It is
also the Law, that a committee hear the case and pass upon it.
Now, Mr. Buck Lashum, you are the insulted party ; what
complaint have you to make?”
“I have nothing to say, nor have I any complaint to make,”
was Buck's answer.
“Mr. Squealer Bloxum, you are also one of the insulted
parties. What complaint have you to make ?”
“I think that Mr. Rattles was a little excited when he used
the word 'liar' and that he did not mean— "
“That is not for you to say," interrupted Hawkins. “It is
no part of your business to make apologies for Mr. Rattles.
The lie has been passed. The question is, have we two liars
amongst us, or have we two men amongst us who, knowing
they are not liars, do not possess the manhood to resent the
insult? Now, what have you both to say? I will say further
that you gentlemen must either obtain an apology from Mr.
Rattles, or fight, or be branded as liars and cowards; that is
the Law.”
Buck and Bloxum both remained silent, not knowing what
to say.
“What is the matter, Lashum?” asked a Tennessee boy.
“Are you afraid to talk? Do you forget that you come from
the South, where all men are free, and where you only find
true manhood ?”
“Yes, these fellows are a sample of your Southern man-
hood,” spoke up a long Yankee boy. “I venture they have
lied about somebody, and now they are afraid to own it. Just
to think of it, a true Southern gentleman afraid of the conse-
quences of his acts !”
This bit of sarcasm was followed by a peal of laughter.
“Gentlemen, let us have no cross-firing," said Hawkins,
adding: “Mr. Rattles, you have violated the ‘Unwritten Law'
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AS WE SEE IT.
of this College inasmuch as you have called fellow students
liars.
“What have you to say for yourself?”
“I will simply say that these fellows "
“Gentlemen,” interrupted Hawkins.
“Well, students,” said Rattles.
“No, gentlemen,” insisted Hawkins.
“Students came to my room,” continued Rattles, “and lied
to me about my friend, whose name I may not mention. It is
enough to say that he is my friend, and that no gentleman of
honor will hear his friends slandered behind their backs. In
this case I know they lied. I so expressed myself, and I
reiterate what I have said before. They are contemptible
liars."
“My God! Lashum, are you a Southern man? Have you
any blood in your veins ? Will you allow your name to be
handed down in this College as a contemptible liar?” again
urged the Tennessee boy.
“Oh, this is not the first lie he has told, nor will it be the
last while at this school,” said Rattles.”
“Well, fellows, these gentlemen, by their silence, acknowl-
edge that what Mr. Rattles says is true. There can be but
one conclusion for you to reach, which is that they have lied
on somebody. Who it is does not matter. What will be your
decision?”
“That hereafter all honorable students refuse to believe
anything they have to say unless corroborated by a third
person,” spoke up the long Yankee boy.
This decision was mild in form, but severe in operation. No
matter what they said, even that the weather was cold, would
be met by the retort, “Whom have you to vouch for that
statement?”
After the boys had separated, Buck said to Bloxum:
“That 'nigger' always gets the best of us. We will fix
him yet.”


AS WE SEE IT.
59
“Buck, let's go to Elmyra tonight and have some fun,” said
Bloxum.
“I don't care. We can stay until Sunday night,” answered
Buck.
Elmyra is a town about eight miles from Oberlin, in another
county, where the students of loose habits go for relaxation.
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1 AS WE SEE IT.
61.
“Yes jis' knowed that? Why, I mistook yer haid fer a
place fer brains. Yer lettle sister Arabella, she told me that
two weeks ago. What yer think I kin do 'bout it now? Go
on to College and see what they do with them ‘niggers,' then
let me know, and I'll settle the whole matter then. That's
what yer do."
“Yes, pappy, but that 'nigger' is at the same school,
and I- "
“How long yer been runnin' this heah place? Yer better
a darn sight do as yer is tole an’ not stop to augrify wid yer
betters. I know mor’n a minit than yo'll git outen books in
a lifetime. Yer rub thet air critter out and see that she don't
git stiff ’morrow mornin'. I won't have my critters worked
that way. 'Pears to me thet I have sed thet offen ’nuff,” said
the father with warmth.
Mr. Nick Lashum prided himself on the fact that he was
the boss. There was but one person on his place over whom
he had no control, and that was an old Negro woman, of
uncertain age, the mother of several doubtful looking chil-
dren of variegated colors, who resembled the Lashum family.
This old woman claimed that she had known Nick Lashum
since “long 'fore de wah” and that he was bound to take care
of her until she died. All of which appears to be true, from
the fact that she lived in a cabin within a stone's throw of
Nick's wife and children, without doing labor of any kind, and
having free access to everything on the place. This old
woman, who was known in war times, when she traveled about
the State with Nick Lashum, as Black Sue, and who appeared
to know a great deal of Nick's innermost affairs, was a char-
acter within herself. No person on the place appeared to
know exactly where she came from nor on whose place she
lived before the war. Suffice it to say, when Nick came into
possession of his present home, she came with her six lean, yel-
low children and took the cabin in which we find her, as her
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62
AS WE SEE IT.
share of Nick's assets, and lived there with her growing
family. We shall see something of her later.
Buck, not having gained his point, and only succeeding in
arousing the wrath of his parent, took the mare to the stable
yard and proceeded to obey his father's injunction—to rub
her out.
After Buck's departure, Nick Lashum and his cronies
resumed their talk.
“Why, in course, Ole Mal is the bottom of the whole darn
thing,” said Si Weedles, a citizen of large family and small
resources, whose business was cross-road politics and juryman;
“and, furdermore, I hear that little Joe Wheatley is to run
'gin Casper Lashum for sheriff.”
“The h— yer say, Si,” said Nick; “who tol' yer so?”
“Wal, I dunno 'zackly who it war that tol' me, but I hear'n
hit today. That's what I camed heah fer—to talk this thing
over. I tol' them darn hothead Smalys and Wardemans to
let them ‘niggers' alone; thet thet hoss was Burrell's, and sich
doin's war goin' to make trouble. Now this is only the begin-
nin’. Yo'll see,” said Weedles.
“So, that's what the matter wid them 'big bugs,' is hit ?
Takin' up fer ‘niggers,' hey? Leetle Joe Wheatley? Him's
the one they expects to beat Cas fer sheriff? Wal, I mus' say
them people is smart. That darn boy's suttenly well thought
on in this heah county. Doggon, if Cas an' his pals ain't got
to git out an’ hustle,” said Nick.
“Yes, time fer 'lection on'y nex’ mont', and we jus' knowed
who is goin' to run 'gin him,” said Weedles. “I, fer one, is
goin' to git my coat off an' go to woric. All we is got to say
is, that they is takin' up fer ‘niggers' an' we will beat 'em
A.
sho'."
"Si, yer tell all the boys to meet heah Sunday arter nex' on
matters of great 'portance,” said Nick, as the friends sepa-
rated.


AS WE SEE IT.
63
On the Sunday afternoon, long before the appointed time,
the good citizens of the county began to gather at the home of
Nick Lashum. The first to arrive was Si Weedles, clad in his
best, which consisted of a large hat, a large pair of boots, a
large pair of pants, which were suspiciously like a pair that
Sheriff Lashum used to pride himself upon owning, a hickory
shirt and a large corn-cob pipe. Attired in this outfit, the
Alabama statesman appeared early, because his self-imposed
duties, as handy man, ex-officio, at all political meetings, were
well understood by himself. Soon the big barn loft, an ideal
place for an Alabama political council, was well filled. There
were great men galore-judges and former judges, clerks of
courts and former clerks of courts, sheriffs and former
sheriffs, justices of the peace and former justices of the peace,
road commissioners, school commissioners, lawyers, doctors,
school teachers and plain country gentlemen—all come to see
the lights of the Alabama Democracy flash, flutter, glimmer,
sputter and finally become extinguished.
The hour soon arrived for business to be proceeded with.
Without the formality of the election of a chairman, Nick
Lashum, by virtue of the meeting being held 'neath his vine
and fig tree,' and by virtue also of his acknowledged superior
ability, took upon himself the right to conduct the meeting.
He said: “Gents, we is hyre on a mos' momentous occasion.
Dese hyre 'big bugs' is not satis' by the way things is bein'
run in this hyre county. If I war not satis’ I would move
outen the county. I don't give a doggon fer any of them.
They is stuck up and has been always.”
“Right! Right!" came from the crowd.
“Now, they is goin 'to try to beat Cas Lashum fer sheriff.
And who is they goin' to run agin' him? Leetle Joe Wheat-
ley. Is he one of us?”
“No! No!” responded the hearers.
“Wal, we is got to git t'gether an' beat the whole darn
bunch. I tell yer, fellers, that if them people ever gits us onct
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64
AS WE SEE IT.
yer will be jus’ lek yer war 'fore de war. I knows what I'se
talkin' 'bout. I war hyre on the spot at that there time. You
boys that has been to school offen yer po' pappy's labor, may
snikker an’grin kase yer ain't got no more sense. Now, gents,
this whole thing is up to yo'll.”
After a few moments' silence, a young man by the name
of Goodrich called out:
“Mr. Chairman, I move that we do now proceed to the
election of officers.” Silence. “I therefore place in nomina-
tion for chairman the Honorable Judge- "
“No yer don't do no sich a darn thing,” said Nick; “I'se
the cheerman of this hyre meetin', an' Nickolas Lashum,
Junior, is the s'c'tay. Ain't that right, fellers ?”
“Sho' yer is,” spoke up Si Weedles; "an' anybody thet
don't lek them officers, we puts out. We don't 'pose ter have
this hyre meetin' 'sturbed by nobody.”
Mr. Goodrich relapsed into a discreet silence, but remarked
to his companion, “That he'd be d- if he would vote for such
people.” The chairman announced that the coming election
was for Sheriff, County Judge, and one Road and School
Commissioner each. Whom would they nominate to run for
these offices? The all-important matter to Nick and his
friends was the office of Sheriff. To bring about Casper's
nomination was their determination.
Si Weedles was on his feet at once.
“Mr. Cheerman: I rases to my feet fer the puppus of put-
tin' in nomination, fer Sheriff, that battled-scarred hero, that
patriotic citizen an’ farmer, that Alabamy gent an' fi'ancier,
that stock raiser an’ father, that man of the world an’ the
Church, him no other than the man that carried the blood-
stained banner of Alabama mocracy down to victory, him
no other than the man that has always kept ’nuff 'niggers' in
the chain gang to woric the roads so no white men don't have
no woric to do on the roads, him no other than the one that
knows how to keep ‘niggers’ in they places, him no other than


AS WE SEE IT.
the man thet ain't heppen' no ‘niggers' 'gin white men, him
no other than the wise an' provident Casper Lahsum.”
After this flash of eloquence, the yell, so well known,
peculiar to the savages of the West and the “crackers” of
the South, was given with such good will that the barn seemed
to vibrate with its volume. Not a voice raised in opposition
to this nomination. Nick declared, as soon as he could be
heard, that the unanimous “voice" of the caucus was Casper
Lashum. The hold-over officers, Judge and Commissioners,
were renominated. Nick then adjourned the meeting sine die.
Just twenty-three minutes had elapsed since the meeting was
called to order. The County Bulletin, the official organ of the
county, had the following announcement:
“At a convention, attended by hundreds of delegates (self-
appointed) from all parts of the county, held in the large hall
on Mr. Nick Lashum's place, the following persons were named
as candidates for the offices of Sheriff, Judge, Road and School
Commissioners:
Casper Lashum, Sheriff.
Josephus Wiggles, Judge.
William Runeasy, Road Commissioner.
Jackson Contention, School Commissioner."
THE UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN LIBRARIES
Young Goodrich and his friends engaged in a very warm
discussion as they drove away from the Lashum place, declar-
ing they would do all in their power to defeat Casper Lashum
for Sheriff.


CHAPTER X.
770UNG GOODRICH and his friends, true to their deter-
y mination, set about to defeat Casper Lashum for
Sheriff. Knowing well the strength of the Lashum
following, they were compelled to resort to strategy. First,
they made a canvass of all the better class of people in the
county and obtained their promises to vote for Little Joe
Wheatley when the time came; but in the canvass, up to the
last day, they were to appear to be staunch followers of the
Lashums. Judge Wiggles and his supporters, who had long
wished for an opportunity to throw off the Lashum yoke, also
promised to come out at the proper time and advocate the
election of Wheatley. So well was this game of politics
played, so complete was Goodrich's organization, that the
Lashums did not suspect that the enthusiasm on the part of
the "big bugs” meant defeat for their kinsman.
The evening before the election the County Bulletin came
out with a burning editorial denunciatory of the Lashum
regime, denouncing their methods and charging that for
years they had been corrupt in office. So sudden and com-
plete was the attack, coming from so many unlooked-for
sources, that Lashum and his followers were at a loss to know
how to combat the new issue. Nick Lashum, Casper Lashum,
Si Weedles and a few others, among them the Smalys and
Wardemans, met at Nick Lashum's, down by the pig sty,
Nick's favorite corner, and engaged in a lively discussion.
The Smalys were in favor of going immediately to the office
of the County Bulletin, get the “nigger” who carried the
copies of the paper about the county to the subscribers and
hang him, as he was responsible for the paper being in the
hands of all the white people in the county who could read.
After a very lengthy argument, it was finally decided that,
should the Lashums lose, the “nigger," the driver of the
66


AS WE SEE IT.
67
wagon owned by the publishers of the County Bulletin, should
be taught a lesson—should be taught not to distribute papers
unfavorable to Lashum and his followers. The ownership of
the paper, of the horse and wagon and of the paper route,
never entered into their thoughts. The “nigger” was respon-
sible, wholly and entirely. They, vowed to run him out of
the county.
When the votes were counted the following day it was found
that Casper Lashum had been defeated by 54 votes, while his
associates on the ticket had been elected without a dissenting
vote.
Si Weedles reported that great fraud had been practiced,
inasmuch as a report had been put in circulation, by Good-
rich, that the Lashums were trying to steal the County Court
House and that Nick Lashum had a deed already drawn which
he would put on file as soon as his brother was re-elected—all
of which the “crackers” believed and acted upon.
Little Joe Wheatley's election to the office of Sheriff gave
the Negroes great satisfaction. It forecasted, for them, a pos-
sible chance of a “square deal.”
They were not disappointed.
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CHAPTER XI.
S WE turn our attention again to the boys at Oberlin
we find the school year has come to a close. Buck
and Bloxum barely passed their examinations, and
were severely lectured by the Dean, though they were per-
mitted to go on with their classes. Malcolm and Abe made
good marks and were congratulated by the Dean. Each bore
a letter from the Dean to his father commending him and
urging his return the next school year. Their homecoming
was made a time for rejoicing. Each person on the place
vied with the other in his endeavor to make them welcome.
The parents of the two boys were greatly elated over the record
made by their respective sons. The vacation time passed very
quickly, and the boys could hardly realize it was over when
told to get ready to return to school. Malcolm and Miss
Donewell had become great friends, and he had promised to
return a few days before the school term began in order that
he might spend some time with her in pleasure-seeking.


CHAPTER XII.
TO THEN the time for homegoing drew near Buck Lashum
extended invitations to several young men whose
acquaintance he had made while at the College to be
his guests for a week at his father's plantation. Bloxum was
the first to accept; but his railroad tickets were not forth-
coming and they were stumbling blocks which he set about
to remove. He knew that his parents could not spare the
money to cover the expense of this trip, nor would they permit
him to go South with Buck if they had to make a further
sacrifice than they were making in sending him to College.
He had, however, another reason for wanting to go. He was
aware that he would have to work if he went home for the
summer vacation, and he therefore determined that Buck
should bear this expense for the trip, and also that he would
stay the whole vacation through. Buck and Bloxum had
formed the habit of going to Elmyra to spend Saturday night
and Sunday in recreation.” On a return trip, after one of
these carousals, when Buck was feeling exceptionally good,
Bloxum opened the subject by remarking:
“Buck, I am compelled to ask you to withdraw your invi-
tation to me to take that trip down to your plantation.”
“No yer don't. What's the matter with yer? Haven't yer
passed yer word that yer would come? Haven't yer learned
yet that a gentleman never goes back on his words? Didn't
I write pappy that yer particular was coming ? Now, what
yer goin' to back out fer?”.
This was just the position Bloxum wanted Buck to take.
“Of course, I know all these things; that is just the reason
I am telling you now. I am so sorry. I wanted, above all
things, to meet your sister Clemmie. I know she must be a
stunning girl-and little Arabella—Oh, well; I guess I must
forego all these pleasures.”
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AS WE SEE IT.
All this was said solemnly, with a view of impressing Buck.
“Why, Bloxum, what is the matter with yer? Hupe
nobody ain't daid.”
“No, nobody's dead, but the fact of the matter is, we have
been burned out; that is, our barn and farm implements
have been burned. Father says in his letter, 'Come home and
go to work.'”
Then Bloxum soliloquized:
“Just to think of it! Two months rest—Clemmie and Ara-
bella—and nothing to do—with ‘niggers' to wait on me!
Now, two months work—work from morning till night-all
because I lack a few paltry dollars. Father says he cannot
possibly send me one cent, but to come home and go to work.”
Then he added :
“Why are you grinning? Can you see anything funny in
that? I will not see Clemmie nor Arabella for another year.”
“I am not laffin' at yer,” said Buck. “I am pleased to
know that is all. Why, I can fix any moneys all right."
“What you take me fer? Think I am a ‘nigger'? Going
to let you buy my tickers and— ”
“Yer shut up; ain't yer my guest? How yer get down
there is not yer business. I'm responsible fer yer 'til nex'
year. So that ends it. Yer write yer pappy and tell him
that yer is in the hands of Mr. Buck Lashum, of A—
County, Alabamy.”
“Buck, you must be a great man down in your county.
When you get through College the people of A— County
will see that you go to Congress from your district. I tell
you, Buck, you are a wonder.”
“Yer can bet I am going to run things when I git out o'
College,” said Buck.
“Yes; when I come down their electioneering for you, then
you can pay my expenses; and you can then present me to
Clemmie and Arabella.”
“Bloxum, I tell yer I don't want no more fool talk. Yer


AS WE SEE IT.
71
goes with me as my guest. Pappy say fer me to bring yer.
I will write yer mammy and tell her that I will look after her
little boy.” And Buck laughed at his own cleverness.
When Bloxum left Buck, he laughed long and heartily to
himself at his success in obtaining Buck's promise to take him
South as his guest.
“Well, that fellow is easy, sure enough. But that gives me
an idea. If I can handle him so easy, what may I not do with
the whole bunch of 'meadow hogs' in a year or two? What in
the world does Clemmie look like? Wonder how she dresses ?
Old man Lashum must have lots of money. Bet your life I
will find out this summer.”
Such thoughts ran through Bloxum's mind until he finally
fell asleep. Buck, being of the same state of mind, congratu-
lated himself upon the clever way he had induced Bloxum to
accept his hospitality.
“Bloxum is too darn sensitive. But I must take him down
there, or pappy will say that I lied when I wrote that I was
the leader of all the Southern boys in the College. I don't
know about that Tennessee fellow; he is so darn proper and
stuck up, he may refuse. Anyway, I can get four or five to
go; that will prove what I wrote pappy.”
Buck was much concerned lest the young man from Ten-
nessee and a few others, who belonged to old aristocratic fami-
lies, should refuse his invitation, as he had written home
giving the names of the young men whom his father might
expect as his son's guests for one week.
“Well, DeVaux," said the Tennesseean to his Louisiana
friend, “I hear that you propose to visit that Lashum fellow
at his home this summer for one week ?”
“Not guilty,” said DeVaux; “what do you take me for?
How long since I commenced to take these 'crackers' on terms
of 'Social Equality'? I am under obligations to you, since I
got the invitation through your friendship for him.”
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AS WE SEE IT.
“Oh, of course, I am responsible for all your ills. Did I
also make you acquainted with Miss Donewell? Did I also
cause Overley to cut you out?” laughed DeVaux's friend.
“But, seriously, DeVaux, you had the lead until Overley and
Forbes pulled her out of Black River; then your colors fell.
Why did you surrender so quickly?”.
“Why? Because the young lady seemed to want somebody
else. My pride would not permit me to wait until I was
snubbed,” answered DeVaux; then added: “What do you
intend to do about your invitation to visit Lashum ?”
“Visit Lashum? Why I never took the proposition seri-
ously. I have no intentions of accepting an invitation of any
kind from him. Who is going to accept?”
“Bloxum, I guess,” answered DeVaux; "he has the one
chance left. He was saying to me that he thought New
Orleans a most beautiful city. When I asked him if he had
ever visited that city, he answered by saying that he had not,
but would as soon as he got acquainted with some native of
the soil. I did not continue the conversation further. You
can bet he will go with Lashum.”
Their talk drifted into other channels, and Bloxum and
Buck were forgotten.
The time soon rolled around for the boys to leave for their
respective homes. Bloxum had finally agreed to let Buck do
the honors for the summer, and they left the College together.
When they reached their destination, they were met by Mr.
and Mrs. Nick Lashum, Sr., Clemmie and Arabella. Bloxum
was not prepared for the sight that met his gaze. Nick
Lashum, Sr., with his large boots and small legs; Mrs. Nick
Lashum, Sr., with her plaid shawl and blue skirt; Clemmie-
the divine creature—with her bangs and curls, topped by a
picture hat of flowers, ribbons and velvet, a yellow gown
trimmed in brown, a costume calculated to cause all the girls
of her class in A— County to envy her.
He could not get his eyes off this vision. Was this the girl


AS WE SEE IT.
“these things don't worry me nor do they worry my family
or friends. We work on the principle that a Negro has the
same right to live and enjoy life that any other man has. We
hire him and pay him for his labor. He goes about his busi-
ness; we go about ours. When he is trying to do right and
we know he is an honest man and he asks our aid, we give it.
WE ALWAYS AID A WORTHY NEGRO. When we see that he is
being imposed upon, we call a halt.
“No, indeed, my friend, you don't understand the nature of
this race of people," continued the Tennessee boy. “They
are simple and they are not simple. Simply because they will
trust your word implicitly, do thousands of dollars worth of
business with your 'taking your word for it,' but remember-
ing every little detail in the transaction for years back. We
never break our word given with them. This is the reason
that all men of my class in the South have no grievance against
the Negro. He understands us and we understand him.
Lashum and Bloxum can speak for themselves.”
“My pappy says ‘niggers' ain't got no right to live,” said
Lashum, “let alone own plantations and stock.”
“Why?” asked a dozen boys at once.
“Because tliey are ‘niggers,' ” was the answer.
“What makes them ‘niggers'?” asked an English boy.
“Why, their inferior blood, of course,” was Buck's answer.
“Well, that may be from your point of view. You are
white; your blood is superior. Thomas L. Jones, who gradu-
ated from this College last year and who was rated third in
his class, was called a “nigger.' He was whiter than you are.
What made him a 'nigger'?”.
“Why, his mother's blood, of course,” Buck answered.
“His mother's blood ?” asked the English boy. “Why, she
was a quadroon, as white as you are, and his father was a
Caucasian. Do you mean to tell me that the sixteen drops of
your superior blood will be overcome by his one drop of
inferior blood ? Impossible! Your position is ridiculous.
You are governed by a blind prejudice. Get rid of it!"


80
AS WE SEE IT.
Upon Malcolm's arrival he was asked by the ladies why he
had not brought his friend. He made an excuse for Abe by
saying a previous engagement or something to that effect had
kept him away. The visiting ladies had heard so much of
Abe through Miss Donewell and Malcolm that they were
curious to see and learn something more about him. They
were very much disappointed that he did not accept the invi-
tation. Malcolm was asked by Miss Donewell if he could not
suggest some way by which Abe could be induced to visit her
guests, as they were very anxious to meet him. After some
thought Malcolm suggested that Miss Watson be invited and
that she be requested to bring Abe with her, explaining that
the visiting ladies and no one else be present. That the ladies
wanted to hear Miss Watson and Abe in their famous duet, the
two having won the reputation of being very fine singers. One
of the visiting ladies was an exceptionally fine pianiste and
a delightful musical evening was promised. Next morning
Abe reecived a note from Miss Watson inviting him to accom-
pany her to Miss Donewell's home that evening to meet some
ladies of the musical world. Abe was very fond of music, and,
as Miss Watson was to be there, the two inducements decided
him to accept. This was the first note Abe had ever received
from Miss Watson, so he hid it away in his pocketbook, little
thinking the service it would be to him a few weeks later.
At the appointed time Miss Watson and Abe arrived at the
Donewell home, where they found the ladies waiting. After
several choice selections, vocal and instrumental, tea was
served. Some time was spent in a very spirited conversation,
after which Miss Watson and Abe left to join some friends
at the home of Miss Watson's friend, Miss Glenn.
“Mabel,” exclaimed her friends, all speaking at once.
“My! But he is black! He's your "
“Mabel, his voice is grand and his manners are "
“Mabel, where was he educated? He acts like he is white;
his table manners are


82
AS WE SEE IT.
“No, I am not leaning ‘nigger-ward,' nor am I taking up
for ‘niggers.' I think you two ought to be more manly, either
to say these things to Overley or leave them unsaid. But you
and Bloxum do not seem to understand the position that gen-
tlemen should take in such matters. If you despise Overley,
as you claim, the dignified gentleman would ignore him."
“Bucker, you ain't a thing,” said Buck. “Ain't we white ?
Whose got nothin' to do with us when it comes to these 'nig-
gers'?”
“Well,” said a boy from North Carolina, “the whole fetched
crowd is bad. But Buck and Bloxum do worry too much about
them. We've got nothing to do with thatair pipe. Come on,
let's have a game. Do something that gentlemen can find
some amusement in.”
These young men then passed into Buck's room, where they
were soon busily engaged in a game of poker.


CHAPTER XV.
7 HILE Abe was at the home of Miss Donewell, Mal-
W colm missed his pipe, the meerschaum pipe spoken
of in a previous chapter. He searched his own room,
and Abe's, but could not find it.
Upon Abe's return he found Malcolm brooding over his loss.
“Malcolm, what is the matter? You look as if you have
lost your best friend. Cheer up. I have a message for you
from Miss Donewell. She invites you to call tomorrow evening
at 7.30 p. m., as her visitors have received an unexpected sum-
mons to return to their homes. They will take the midnight
train. They also expect you to see them off. Miss Donewell
says she is going with them. You will have four full hours
with her, Malcolm, and this is your chance, or else she wouldn't
have sent for you. I wish you every success.”
“Abe, after the way you treated me in your affair, I think
you have nerve and plenty, to expect me to talk to you
about my case. But you seem so fatherly, I will say that I
do intend to avail myself of the first opportunity that presents
to learn my fate.” After a moment or two Malcolm added :
“We have met with a very serious loss, Abe, if you do not
know where our pipe is. I have looked all over the place for
it. Do you know where it is ?”
“Let me see,” said Abe; “I think I saw it just before I
went out last night.”
“Well, it is not here now,” said Malcolm, and the gloomy
look which Abe noticed when he entered the room again settled
upon his face.
“What will I say to father if we don't find it? He values
that pipe very highly, because his great-grandfather smoked it.
That pipe was never off the old place before and now it is
JHE UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN LIBRARIES
ase. But you see the first opportunity
on added:
lost."


AS WE SEE IT.
While Malcolm was talking Abe had been searching the
room. He looked in every place in which the pipe could pos-
sibly be, but to no purpose. It was gone.
“Malcolm, I cannot find it. Think. Have you left it in
any boy's room? Let us ask Forbes and the rest of the boys."
They then proceeded to Forbes's room, but Forbes had not
seen the pipe nor had any of the rest of the boys.
“What shall I do?” asked Malcolm. “This pipe is a family
heirloom. My father will never forgive me for losing it.”
“Report the loss to the Dean at once,” said Rattles. Maybe
he can suggest some way by which it can be recovered.”
They went immediately to the Dean, and explained the loss
and its seriousness. The Dean promised to investigate the
matter at once. He first, however, reported to Dr. Finley
that the pipe was lost under circumstances that looked as if
it were stolen. They then ordered all the boys on that floor
before them. Dr. Finley had a short heart-to-heart talk with
them, suggesting that he would consider it a personal favor if
the boy who knew the whereabouts of the pipe would see that
it was returned. He did not ask nor did he desire the students
to inform upon one another. He also intimated that he
thought the boys on the same floor with Malcolm and Abe
knew all about the pipe, thereby practically exonerating the
rest of the school. This brought Buck and Bloxum together
about a week later.
“Buck, now we've got him," said Bloxum. “Let us go to
the Dean and tell him that we are on his floor and do not feel
content to live under the suspicion that has been cast upon us
simply because we are on this floor. That we saw Abe with
the pipe. All the fellows who were with us in the hall will
remember how he had the pipe up his coat sleeve. I tell you
we've got him this time.”
“D— his black hide! I hope we is. Come on, let's go
to the Dean,” said Buck.
The two then proceeded to the Dean's office and stated to


AS WE SEE IT.
85
him that on account of being on the same floor with the Over-
leys they were very much humiliated because of the suspicion
cast upon them by the loss of Overley's pipe. They very much
disliked to say anything that would reflect upon any student,
but they saw Abe Overley with the pipe half up his coat sleeve
going into Forbes's room on the night of November 10th;
were confident that it was November 10th. They gave the
names of several other students who saw him, together with
the part of the conversation that followed after Buck's remark
about Abe taking the pipe to Forbes.
These young men were so embarrassed that they could not
tell the story at once, and it was only by dint of close question-
ing that the Dean could get a clear idea of what they had seen.
He reported the facts to Dr. Finley, who immediately sent for
the boys whose names were given as witnesses. After ques-
tioning them very closely, the Doctor concluded to send for
Abe. When Abe put in his appearance the Doctor repeated
to him what he had heard, and asked what he had to say for
himself.
“Doctor,” said Abe, “I was not in the hall the night in
question between the hours of 6.30 and 11 p. m. I was at the
home of— ," Abe stopped short and looked the Doctor full
in the face, and said, “I cannot tell you at whose home I was
that night without the perinission of that person.”
“Mr. Overley,” said the Doctor, “do you realize the posi-
tion in which you place yourself and the chain of suspicion
that encircles you? Consider well before you decide not to
make a complete statement of your whereabouts the night this
pipe was missed."
“Doctor, I know only too well the danger in which I find
myself. I know the natures of the persons who have come to
you with this story. I know the animus behind the whole
affair. But, Doctor, for all that, I cannot say where I was
that night. It must come from the other person.”
JHE UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN LIBRARIES


86
AS WE SEE IT.
“Does your friend Overley know your whereabouts ?” asked
the Doctor.
“Yes, sir, he does,” said Abe.
“Will you say to him that I desire his presence at once. I
do not wish you to say one word to him about what has passed
between us,” said the Doctor, as he arose and extended his
hand silently to Abe.
“What does he want, Abe?” asked Malcolm, when the
request was delivered.
He said to me, 'I do not wish you to say one word to him
(meaning you) about what has passed between us,' so you see
where I am at. You must face the lion unprepared,” said
Abe, laughingly.
“Well, I will soon know," answered Malcolm, as he pre-
pared to leave for the Doctor's office. After Abe's departure
the Doctor turned to the Dean and remarked: “These boys
are the two strongest characters in the school. They are
friends. This white boy feels the loss of his pipe very keenly.
Now, we will see what he will say when he learns what these
other boys have said about his friend.”
Upon Malcolm's arrival the Doctor told him what he had
heard, the number of witnesses who saw Abe with the pipe,
and, finally, Abe's refusal to say where he was the night the
pipe was lost.
“Now, Mr. Overley, your friend says you know where he
was that night. Will you tell us?”
“No, sir; if he refused to say where he was, I, of course,
cannot betray his confidence," answered Malcolm, simply.
“Well," said the Doctor, as he handed Malcolm an official
note, “take this to him. It is a notice of suspension, pending
further investigation. I am very sorry that this course must
be pursued.”
“Do you mean, Doctor, that you believe, upon the statement
of this bunch of- "


AS WE SEE IT.
87
“Be careful, Mr. Overley. I have expressed no belief in
this matter. I am simply pursuing the course that is usual in
matters of this kind,” the Doctor answered very quickly.
“I will never believe Abe stole that pipe, nor will he steal,”
said Malcolm, as he left the Doctor's office.
He hastened to Abe with Dr. Finley's note, which follows:
Oberlin, Ohio, November 28, 18—.
Mr. Abraham Overley,
Dear Sir: This is to notify you that you are suspended from
further participation in the College exercises or lectures until
further notice.
FINLEY, President.
“What have I done, Malcolm, to warrant this?” asked Abe,
when he had recovered from the surprise caused by his sus-
pension.
“You have refused to tell Doctor Finley where you were
on the night the pipe was lost. Why, Abe, you have not even
told me where you were that night.”
“Have not told you !” exclaimed Abe. “Can it be possible
that you, of all persons on this earth, doubt me, too? Why
should I tell you that which you already know?”.
Malcolm, with his hands deep in his pockets, stood looking
at Abe in amazement.
“Abe, do I understand you to say that I knew of your
whereabouts upon the night this pipe was stolen? How can
you say— "
“My God, Malcolm, you, too, doubt me?” As Abe asked
this question he laid his hand on Malcolm's shoulder and
looked him in the face, hoping to find there the old look of
trust and confidence. Malcolm turned his face away. Abe's
hand dropped to his side; his whole attitude changed to one
of despair; he seemed to age perceptibly. Abe moved toward
the door, then turned to Malcolm with a look which Malcolm
never forgot, and simply said:
JBL UNIVERSIi i vi iviCHIGAN LIBRARIES


AS WE SEE IT.
“And you, too, Malcolm !”
Malcolm met his gaze with a heart full of doubts and fears,
but answered Abe calmly, saying:
“Abe, you did not tell me where you were, nor do I know.”
“My God!” exclaimed Abe, “he, too, believes me to be a
thief !”
Abe passed into his room and cast himself upon his bed,
where he remained for the rest of the night and the following
day. The morning of the second day, as Abe had not put in
his appearance, Malcolm became uneasy about him. Still Abe
had not told where he was the night the pipe was stolen.
Malcolm, therefore, went to Forbes and Rattles for advice.
“Say, Forbes,” said Malcolm, “what shall we do with Abe ?
He has not left his room for two days. He does nothing but
moan all the time.”
“Let us go and see him,” said Rattles.
When these young men entered Abe's room they found him
lying across his bed, where he had been since his talk with
Malcolm. Rattles went to him and lifted his head from the
bed, bringing his face into the light, at the sight of which,
haggard and careworn, Malcolm and Forbes drew back
astounded.
“Abe,” said Rattles, kindly, “what can I do for you?
Come, old man, brace up; you are killing yourself about noth-
ing. This thing will blow over in a day or two."
Abe raised his eyes to Malcolm's face and kept them there in
a long, bewildered stare. Malcolm could not endure the gaze
and moved away to his own room, followed by Forbes.
“Malcolm,” said Forbes, “what is the trouble between you
and Abe?” Malcolm hesitated, but Forbes urged him to tell
what had come between them.
“Well, the truth is," said Malcolm, “while I will never
believe that Abe stole that pipe, nor will he steal, he would
not tell Dr. Finley where he was the night of the 10th,
nor would he tell me. Why not me? Then he said I


AS WE SEE IT.
89
knew. But I do not. He told Dr. Finley that I knew, when
he must have known that I did not. What has come over
Abe that he has so far forgotten himself as to lie?”
“Are you sure of what you say?” asked Forbes. “I am
loath to believe that Abe will lie.”
At that moment Rattles came into the room with Abe's
pocketbook in his hand and walked to the window, remarking
that Abe said there was a prescription in it which he wanted
filled. Rattles searched the book and pulled forth the note
Miss Watson sent Abe asking him to accompany her to Miss
Donewell's. It follows:
Oberlin, Ohio, November 10, 18,
11 a. m.
Mr. Abraham Overley,
Dear Sir: Will you kindly call for me this afternoon at
6.45 to accompany me to a musicale at Miss Donewell's home?
We will meet some musical people there from New York City.
Sincerely yours,
NANCY WATSON.
JbL UNIVEKJII ř üf iviittiGAN LIBRARIES
As Rattles began to read-
“Oberlin, Ohio, November 10, 184, 11 a. m.,” Malcolm
exclaimed:
“What is that? November 10, 18—? Let me see it, Rat-
tles,” and he grasped the note. As Malcolm read his color
changed, his hand trembled; for a moment he seemed to be
deprived of the power of speech; he staggered to a chair and
sank upon it, still holding the note before him, at which he
gazed in blank amazement.
“Why, Overley," said Forbes, “what on earth ails you?
Has that note deprived you of your senses? Let me see this
scroll from the Magii.”
Forbes read the note, as did Rattles, but neither of them
seemed to understand the situation. Forbes again asked Mal-
colm for an explanation.


90
AS WE SEE IT.
“Do you not see that date?” asked Malcolm. “November
10th is the date upon which I lost that pipe. Abe was at Miss
Donewell's home with Miss Watson, and, to make matters
worse, I KNEW HE WAS THERE. What a thoughtless thing I
have done, to let Abe suffer for two days without attempting
to console him. Then, I have written to my father and
explained the whole affair to him, as I thought. What an
injustice I have done Abe! How I could have forgotten that
he was at Miss Donewell's, when I told them how to get him
there, is more than I can understand. He ought never to for-
give me. I will see him at once.”
Malcolm went immediately to Abe, who was seated on a
chair, where Rattles left him, staring into space. Malcolm
extended his hand to him, saying:
“Abe, can you ever forgive me for the pain I have caused
you? I understand now what you meant by asking why you
should tell me that which I already knew. My friend, I am
ashamed to say so, but I forgot all about that engagement of
yours with Miss Watson at Miss Donewell's. Abe, I ask you
a thousand pardons."
Abe looked up at Malcolm in a half conscious way,
apparently not fully understanding all that had been said
to him. He took Malcolm's hand, however, in both of his own
and said:
“Malcolm, did you think I stole that pipe?”
“Why, no, Abe," said Malcolm; “no such idea crossed my
mind. I thought you were not living up to your promise made
to me when we first came here, that we would have no secrets
from each other. Abe, I shall go immediately to Doctor
Finley and explain this wretched affair.”
“No, Malcolm; do not do that. I do not want it done. This
explanation must come from them. I must insist, my friends,
that each of you promise me that you will not say one word
of this to a living soul.”


AS WE SEE IT.
91
“I am sure I do not see the force of your request,” said
Rattles; “but I will respect your wish.”
“Abe, we want to consult on your case,” said Forbes, Mal-
colm and Rattles as they went out of the room. “Malcolm,
you are the only person who has the key to this situation.
What does Abe mean by not wanting you, nor either of us, to
say where he was that night?”
“I do not believe that either of you has ever heard Abe
express himself about visiting white women,” said Malcolm;
“nor do you know that he has never before November 10,
visited Miss Donewell. Well, such is the fact. He has always
contended that no good could possibly come by the commin-
gling of the races socially. Now, through Miss Watson, he
accepted an invitation to meet some ladies at Miss Donewell's
home, and while there this pipe was stolen. Abe absolutely
refuses to say where he was that night, nor will he permit us
to say. He is already suspended and will suffer himself to
be expelled before he will divulge his whereabouts the night
in question. What can we do about it?”
"I hardly know,” said Forbes. “We must certainly respect
his wishes. But must we permit him to sacrifice himself upon
the altar of his high ideal, which seems to me a bit over-
drawn?"
“What can we do?” asked Rattles. “It is Abe's affair.
We have no right to 'butt in.' Say, I admire his grit. He
is suspended now, and is prepared to be expelled rather than
say that he was at a white woman's home. Many a Negro
would be crowing about it.”
“When I questioned Abe about not accepting invitations
to these various places, he answered that his female associates
suited him," said Malcolm. “He even said that you could
not tell the difference between Miss Donewell and Miss Watson
but for the color of their skins. I tell you, fellows, he has
ideas of his own.”
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92
AS WE SEE IT.
"As we have no right to divulge Abe's secret,” remarked
Forbes, “let us advise him to see Doctor Finley himself.”
“Abe,” said Forbes, “we are your friends and want to
advise you. Overley has just explained this whole affair to
us. We think you are wrong. Miss Donewell and her father
have invited you to their home; so have I invited you to mine.
Do you think that they or that I would object to your saying
that you accepted the invitations? Abe, you are drawing it
too fine."
“Forbes, I appreciate your good intentions,” answered Abe;
"but you do not understand. You cannot understand the
position in which I am. You— "
“Why can't I understand?” asked Forbes.
“Because you are not a Negro,” Abe replied, solemly.
This remark of Abe's stopped all conversation for several
moments. The silence was broken by Abe's remarking:
“Fellows, I am in for it. I can but let matters take their
course.”
“Well, you can take a little exercise, at any rate,” said Rat-
tles, and he suggested a turn around the campus. As Abe and
his three friends neared the upper end of the campus they
came upon a group of boys, which included DeVaux and his
friend from Tennessee, together with Bucker and Bloxum.
DeVaux was the first to note Abe's approach.
“Why, fellows, there is Abe Overley,” he remarked. “Look
at him. I don't believe he would steal anything."
“Nor do I,” said the Tennesseean. Turning to Abe, he
extended his hand very cordially, saying:
“Overley, I hear that you are in trouble—that you are
suspended—that you are practically accused of stealing a
pipe from your friend Malcolm; all these things coming
through statements of persons not above small things. I want
to say to you that I do not believe that you are guilty in any
sense of the word. If there is anything I can do for you,
command me; I am at your service.”


AS WE SEE IT.
“Overley,” said DeVaux, after the general handshaking,
which was joined by all except Bloxum, who slunk away as
soon as the boys began to gather about Abe, “when this thing
is cleared up and you are exonerated, as I know you will be,
you must do some lambasting.”
“D— if I wouldn't commence now," said the Yankee boy,
“if I were you. Those fellows need a good thrashing. I tell
you, Abe Overley, I can count on my fingers all the boys in
this College who believe you guilty. Whenever I think of
this trick, I feel like thrashing somebody.".
As Bloxum turned to leave the crowd, Bucker called to
him, saying earnestly: “Don't leave, Bloxum; don't you hear
what these fellows are saying?” Bloxum apparently did not
hear what his friend Bucker said, as he kept on, going straight
to Buck's room.
"Say, Buck,” he said, “don't you know those fellows down
on the campus are making a fool of Abe Overley, telling him
that they know he is not guilty, and that a 'nigger' won't
steal. Well, you should have heard them.”
“Bloxum, I don't give a doggon fer the whole bunch,” said
Buck. “I am going to Elmyra; come on and go.”
Bloxum did not need a second invitation; they were soon
on the way.
Abe appeared to feel much relieved after being assured by
his friends and acquaintances that he had not lost their confi-
dence and still retained their respect. These young men went
back to Malcolm's room, where a free and frank exchange of
thought was had. Good-fellowship soon held sway once more.
JBE UNIVEASIII Ur ivil MILAN LIBRARIES


CHAPTER XVI.
FTER the conversation between Malcolm and Abe,
which resulted in the latter's prostration and seclu-
sion for two days, Malcolm felt it his duty to inform
his father as to what had taken place. He, therefore, wrote to
him as follows:
Oberlin, Ohio, November 15th.
Dear Fathmagine how
but I feel it
I can imagine how you and Uncle Abe will feel when this
letter reaches you both, but I feel it my duty to write the whole
circumstances, that you may form your own opinion.
The meerschaum pipe that I brought from home is the cause
of all this trouble. On the night of November 10th last, I
missed the pipe from my room. I reported the loss of the
pipe to the Dean; he, in turn, reported the loss to Dr. Finley,
who called all the boys on our floor together, stating to them
that he thought some of the boys on our floor knew where the
pipe was. He asked that it be brought back. Later, Buck
Lashum and Squealer Bloxum went to the Dean and told him
that they, together with several other boys, saw Abe with the
pipe, half up his sleeve, going through the hall to Will Forbes's
room. The Dean reported to the Doctor, who sent for the
boys, and they all agreed that they saw Abe, as Buck and
Bloxum stated.
The Doctor then sent for Abe, who denied being in the hall
at the time they claimed to have seen him. When asked where
he was he absolutely refused to say.
He said, further, that I knew where he was, but I do not.
As a result, Abe is suspended, and at this time is in his room,
where he has been for two days.
I do not know what to do with him. I do not believe that
Abe knows anything about the pipe; but why does he not tell
where he was? And why did he say that I knew where he
was, when I did not?
Father, what must I do? Tell Uncle Abe to write to him
and command him to say where he was. He will obey his
father.
These are the circumstances. I hope this will not worry
Ha result, Abeen for two do with her but why knew wh
I do not anything a why did
94


AS WE SEE IT.
95
you, but I feel it my duty to let you both know exactly what
has happened.
Give my love to the people. I am well, but worried.
Yours,
M. A. O., JR.
After Malcolm A. Overley, Sr., had read and reread this
letter, in Old Abe's hearing, he said:
“Abe, what the h— do you think of that? Just to think
of it! Abe suspended under suspicion of having stolen my
pipe, that he has been playing with all ‘his life! Such d-
rot! That shows what little sense these d— professors have.
That boy steal? Why, I should as soon believe that my Abe
would steal. But, why don't he tell where he was that night?
Abe, d— your black hide, have you nothing to say? Are you
going to let them make a thief of that boy? Buck Lashum!
He saw Abe hiding that pipe! H— and damnation, man, are
you asleep, or are you dumb, or are you such a fool that you
don't care what happens to that boy of yours? D— if I don't
believe you are glad he is in trouble! Sit there now looking
like that d- old kicking mule of yours. Can't you talk ?”
“Yes, sar, ob cose I kin talk,” said Old Abe; “but yuse
been talkin' an'cussin' for mor'n half hour. How kin I talk?
How I goin' to git a word in, nohow? My po' boy, he am in
all dis heah trouble 'bout dat pipe. I vouch Buck Lashum
stole dat pipe. Yes, sar; de Lawd's will mus' be done.”
“Yes, the Lord's will must be done. Saddle it on the Lord.
That's the plea of every ‘nigger' I ever heard of, after he has
been caught doing wrong. The Lord's will! According to
that doctrine, the Lord wills that you ‘niggers' do wrong. It
is too foolish for discussion. What are you going to do about
that boy of yours?”.
"I does not know. I does know dat my Abe won't steal;
but why he not say whar he war, I does not know. Dat boy
he sho' got a good 'scuse fo’ not sayin' whar he at dat night.
All I say is dis: ‘Lawd, dy will be done.'”


AS WE SEE IT.
“Well, I be d—! Is that all you have to say ?”
Both of these fathers then relapsed into silence, one to brood
over the prospect of a disgrace to his name, the other to pray
silently to Almighty God that his son may come out of this
entanglement with his name untarnished.
Thus we leave them to their own thoughts.


AS WE SEE IT.
99
“Yes, sir,” said Malcolm. “But I have given Abe my
word not to mention his whereabouts unless the other party
so directs. I hope you will not question me further.”
“Mr. Overley, I appreciate your position and will see what
I can do to gain you that permission."
Thereupon he instructed his secretary to bring to him the
lady who was in waiting. When Malcolm saw Miss Donewell
enter the room he started up wtih a look that betrayed his
feelings. He extended both hands to her, saying:
“Thank God, you have come! I knew you would. I know
now that Abe will soon be reinstated. I am very glad to
see you.”
Miss Donewell colored very deeply and drew back, as if she
feared Malcolm would crush her in his eagerness.
“Miss Donewell,” said the Doctor, with a merry twinkle in
his eye, “will you give Mr. Overley leave to say where his
friend was on the night of November 10th ?”
“Of course I will, Doctor. Mr. Overley, you may say that
Mr. Abraham Overley was at my home on this night, and all
else you may know about this affair that pertains to me.”
Malcolm immediately started into a complete recital of the
whole story, stating that it was November 9th that Abe had
the pipe in the hall; also stating Abe's reason for not saying
where he was the night of November 10th, to all of which the
Doctor and faculty listened very attentively. After Malcolm
had finished the narration, the Doctor instructed him to have
Abe come to him at once, and that he would impose the further
burden (?) upon him of seeing the young ladies home. The
Doctor also instructed his secretary to go for Lashum and
Bloxum, telling him to keep them in the library until he sent
for them.
He then suggested to the Dean that he thought it advisable
to search Lashum's room. The Dean, together with two other
members of the faculty, proceeded to make the search, which
resulted in finding the pipe at the bottom of Lashum's trunk.
CJIVHVO!7 ArhNIUNII! In TTCVJATIN Jor


100
AS WE SEE IT.
The Dean took the pipe, wrapped very closely, to Dr. Finley's
office.
When Abe reached the Doctor's office he expected to hear
that he was expelled. His surprise was very great when told
that the whole affair had been cleared up, so far as he was
concerned, and that the announcement of his reinstatement
would be made in the most public manner next morning in
the Chapel, just after devotional exercises. The Doctor and
other members of the faculty then shook Abe's hand very
cordially and bade him good night. The Doctor had been
informed as to how and where the Dean had found the pipe,
so, after a short discussion, it was thought best to interview
Bloxum first. When Bloxum came into the room, the pipe
was on the table in full view, and when he saw it he staggered
to a chair and dropped upon it. He knew that trouble was
in store for him. True to his nature, he resolved to put the
blame on Buck. Dr. Finley did not question him at orce,
but kept looking at the pipe, waiting for Bloxum to be the
first to say something concerning it. Bloxum was wary and
did not betray himself. Finally, the Doctor turned suddenly
to the Dean and said:
“Dean Sternly, where did you say you found this pipe ?”
"I found it in Mr. Buck Lashum's trunk,” was his response.
“Mr. Bloxum, how came this pipe to be there?” asked the
Doctor. “I hope you will see fit to tell me the whole truth
about this matter.”
“I did not put it there. I told Buck to let it alone,” was
Bloxum's answer.
“Now, tell us the entire circumstance,” said the Doctor.
Bloxum said that he and Lashum and a few others were
passing through the hall the night before Buck got the pipe
and they saw Abe with it. Buck said: “Let's get that pipe
and put it on Abe,” but Bloxum advised him to let it alone.
Buck insisted. Buck alone did the whole thing. All Bloxum
did was to say that he saw Abe with the pipe, which was true.


AS WE SEE IT.
101
After this remarkable statement, the Doctor sent for Buck.
When Buck saw the pipe on the table he became sullen at once.
“Mr. Lashum, do you know where that pipe was?” asked
the Doctor.
“No, I do not,” said Buck.
“It was found in your trunk,” said the Doctor.
“I didn't put it there,” said Buck; “nor do I know how it
got there."
“Have a care, Mr. Lashum,” said the Doctor; "I have a
statement from one who claims to know all about this affair.”
The Doctor then read the statement made by Bloxum. Buck
thought a moment, then concluded that Bloxum must have
“squealed” on him.
“Well, I won't say nothin', because I don't know nothin',”
said Buck, and moved toward the door.
“Do not be in a hurry, Mr. Lashum,” said the Doctor. I
want to know whether or not this statement is true.”
“No, it ain't true," said Buck.
At a sign from the Doctor, Bloxum was brought in the
room again and his statement was read to him.
“Mr. Bloxum," said the Doctor, “is this statement true?”
“Yes, sir, it is true; every word of it,” was Bloxum's
answer.
Buck glared at him for a moment, then said:
“So you are trying to put this whole thing on me, are you?
Well, you won't. Didn't you tell me how to fix that
'nigger'- "
“Mr. Lashum,” interrupted the Doctor, "you will use
nothing but proper language here. You will withdraw that
word.”
“Well, Bloxum told me how to get even with Abe. He told
me to get the pipe and hide it and say that Abe stole it, and
that we saw him with it, and that the boys would not know
what night it was. Now, he tries to put the job on me. I
ain't afeared to say what I did. I’m white, I am.”


102
AS WE SEE IT.
TUL isitiosta viivi, s'
ass i DDADITO
After Buck had finished, Bloxum began to remark that Buck
knew better; that he advised against the whole thing all the
way through; but he was cut short by the Doctor, who said
that their cases would be disposed of that night and that
the conclusion would be announced next morning at the
Chapel exercises.
Dr. Finley, after a prayer next morning, in which he asked
Almighty God to watch and protect the school and those in
the school who were weighted down with troubles and sorrows,
and those who were about to leave the school and who would
need His constant care, said he had two duties to perform, one
a pleasant, the other a very disagreeable duty.
First, that the faculty, after new facts had come to
light, had unanimously agreed to reinstate Mr. Abraham
Overley, who had been suspended pending the finding of Mr.
Malcolm Overley's pipe and the investigation as to his where-
abouts the night the pipe was stolen. He said it gave him
great pleasure to state that the investigation disclosed that
Mr. Overley was not guilty in any sense of the word. He,
therefore, withdrew the suspension and hoped that all the
students would understand that no suspicion whatever rested
on Mr. Overley. This announcement was met by the yell that
only College boys know. Abe was the hero of the hour. The
Doctor's manner then changed. He said the investigation also
led to the discovery of a case of criminal conspiracy. He
stated that it was discovered that two students had conspired
to rob another of his good name by lying about him, and gave
the complete details of the affair, after which he announced
that the faculty had dismissed Mr. Buck Lashum and Mr.
Squealer Bloxum. The boys arose to their feet looking for
Buck and Bloxum ; but they had been notified of the action
of the faculty and were not present. These young men were
busy packing their belongings, Buck cursing and scoring
Bloxum as an ungrateful dog, Bloxum whining and crying,
not knowing where to get money to pay his fare home. When


AS WE SEE IT.
103
the Doctor's announcement was made that Buck and Bloxum
were dismissed there was a moment of silence; then there burst
forth a perfect volcano of cat calls, hisses and groans. When
the noise had ceased, the Doctor dismissed the students. Out
on the campus a party surrounded Malcolm and Abe and
wanted Abe to tell where he was that night and all about
the case, but Abe still refused to say a word about his where-
abouts, remarking that if one visit caused all this talk and
trouble, what would ten visits cause? As DeVaux and his
friend passed out of the Chapel the Tennesseean remarked :
“That was undoubtedly the dirtiest trick I ever heard of.”
“DeVaux, what do you think of such people?”
“Well, I am sure I don't know. They just deliberately
stole that pipe and accused somebody else of the theft, thereby
bringing other people into it as witnesses," answered De Vaux.
“These fellows must feel cheap now.”
“I am glad they are gone."
The next issue of the College Bulletin contained a full
account of the affair. Malcolm mailed one to his father and
also a letter to Abe's father, asking pardon for causing him
unnecessary worry and trouble.


CHAPTER XVIII.
TUI isivt, Whitni ajratiti.. :DDADILO
LOXUM, unlike Buck, had no cash upon which to draw
to procure a ticket for his home trip. He was, there-
fore, compelled to write his father for the necessary
funds. What should he write? How was he to explain his
expulsion? After much thought, Bloxum concluded he would
write his father at length, explaining that he had brought
trouble upon himself in an endeavor to protect a Negro by
the name of Overley, forgetting that his father received the
Oberlin Bulletin. In due course Bloxum received the bare
amount necessary to procure his ticket, unaccompanied by
either letter or comment. He left by a night train, well
knowing that no boy in the school would be sorry to see him
leave. Bloxum's father concluded to express himself to his
son in person.
After writing home that Abe Overley had lied on him, that
Abe had stolen a pipe and put it in his (Buck's) trunk, Buck
declared that he was coming home. Oberlin was no place for
him. A “nigger's” word there is better than a white man’s.
Buck also forgot that the Bulletin was sent to his home; but he
was more fortunate than Bloxum. Nick Lashum, Sr., could
not read and was kept in ignorance of those things which the
family did not desire him to know. Buck concluded he would
visit friends in Elmyra and Cleveland before he started home.
He found himself stranded in Cleveland, however. Upon
receiving a telegram from Buck, his brother immediately tele-
graphed him the necessary amount to procure a ticket. When
Buck arrived home his father wanted to know about the affair
that led to his homecoming, inasmuch as his brothers and sis-
ters had been careful not to inform Nick, Sr., that his son had
been expelled from College. He, therefore, launched into a
long story as to how he happend to be home. In the first
place, Oberlin was no place for a white man, anyhow. “Nig-
104


106
AS WE SEE IT.
details, that transpired at the Big House. Black Sue was no
exception to this rule. After Buck had related his version
of why he was expelled, this virtuous (?) person was consumed
with wrath. She regarded Buck thoughtfully for some
moments, then remarked:
“Chile, I know jes’ how to git eben wid dem Overleys. Ole
Mal Overley and Ole Abe and de rest ob dem men is gone to
take dey grain to de boat. Dey won't be back till day arter
’morrow. Yo'kin kotch dat gal ob Ole Abe's what puts on
so many airs jes’ kase she kin read and write, and dat ole
mammy ob hern stealin' bacon outen yo’ pappy's meat house.
I dun kotch dem onct. Den yo'kin gib dem a good floggin'."
Buck knew only too well the purport of this statement. He
saw very readily that he could rehabilitate himself in the good
graces of his father by this means. He therefore immediately
sent one of Black Sue's boys after the Smalys and Warde-
mans, upon whom he could depend. It was agreed in the
council that followed that at 11 p. m. the next night they
were to assemble and go quietly to the cabin of the Overleys,
take the two women out and flog them. At the appointed
time these representative citizens met at the place designated
and proceeded to the cabin, where they found these lone
women.
The daughter was engaged in reading the Bible to her
mother, as she had been accustomed to do for years past, just
before retiring. Jack Smaly burst the door open and with an
oath demanded to know where the bacon was they had stolen
from Mr. Lashum's meathouse. The daughter, who was a
very spirited girl, arose to her feet, saying that they knew she
nor her mother had stolen nothing. Jack dealt the girl a blow
with his fist that felled her to the floor. The mother, in trying
to prevent this assault, was knocked down by one of the Warde-
mans. They were both then seized, bound, and taken back
into the orchard, stripped bare to the waist by these “Alabama
gentlemen” (?), who proceeded to administer with a leather


AS WE SEE IT.
107
horse-trace nine and thirty lashes on their bare backs. At
the first blow, the mother, old and feeble, fainted and hung
by the thongs that bound her to the tree. No thought of pity
for her; no hand was raised to stay the sickening blows that
fell upon her emaciated body; no word of warning that her
life was being taken; nothing but curses and blow's were multi-
plied upon her, until her brutal lynchers stopped from sheer
exhaustion. The daughter begged that the mother be spared,
but was answered by a blow that loosened several teeth. The
trace was applied to the now perfectly nude body of the
unfortunate girl, until she, too, hung limp and apparently
lifeless, subjected to the vile remarks and jeers of these merci-
less wretches. At this moment Buck's brother, Nick, Jr.,
arrived on the scene. He, though a Lashum, did not approve
of such deeds. He went at once to the old woman and cut her
loose, thinking she would be glad to get away, but she fell to
the ground. After bending over her for a moment, he said:
“You fellows have raised h- now, haven't you? You have
killed this old woman.”
He then went to the daughter and found her almost lifeless.
Some of the Negro women from the nearby cabins were called
and they took the girl to her cabin, where she died before
morning. This drunken mob, now sobered by the realization
of the enormity of their crime, began to move away, leaving
their victims dead and dying.
Sheriff Joe Wheatley was notified of this tragedy by some
of the Negroes and was soon upon the scene. He learned
from them that the deed was committed by Buck Lashum's
gang. The Sheriff immediately put Buck and his cronies,
the Wardemans and the Smalys, under arrest. The Coroner
also soon arrived. When he learned that Buck and his friends
were under arrest, charged with murder of these women, he
impanelled a jury at once, to determine the innocence of these
young men. Testimony was adduced from the Negroes that
should have been strong enough to hold the prisoners for the


AS WE SEE IT.
109
strength and took his accustomed place with Old Abe on the
veranda, where for two generations they were wont to smoke
and talk, the altered appearance of each was so noticeable that
the old men sat for a long time gazing at each other. Finally,
Malcolm A. Oberley said:
“Abe, what the h- are you staring at me that way for?
Have you never seen me before? D— your black hide, do you
think I am a ghost ?”
“Yes, sah, yo' is de ghost of yo’se 'f. But, sah, will yo'
nebber 'member dat de Lawd is more pow’ful den we is? Will
yo' nebber 'member dat His Will mus' be done? My ole
’oman dat’s daid an’ gone, she say dat she will die happy
when she know dat yo’ done gin yo’ heart to God. Now, she
done pass 'way, an' yo' air still outen de Lawd's fold. Yo'
jes' come through de Valley ob de Shadow ob Death an' yo'
is not changed yet. I dun stop prayin' fo' my ole 'oman an'
my gal, kase I know day is in glory. I’se prayin' fo' yo'.
When I see how nigh de grave yo? ”
“Why, Abe, who the h— told you how near the grave I am ?
You old ‘niggers' think that you know as much about the
Lord's business as He Himself knows. Where did you get
the idea that I am nearer the grave than any other man of
my age?”
“Hab yo' forgot so soon dat yo' jus' camed outen yo' sick
bade? Dat de doctors say yo' mus' die, an'- "
“Oh, d- the doctors! They tried to kill me. Old Cleo,
she brought me out. But, Abe, what will we do when my boy
and your boy learn the truth ?”
“God am my hepper, I dunno. I pray God my Abe may
nebber learn de truth.”
After Old Abe had expressed himself as not knowing what
to do, Malcolm A. Overley seemed lost in thought.
"Abe,” he said, “what will the Grand Jury do with those
d- beasts? Si Weedles foreman of the Grand Jury! What
the h— has this country come to? Poor white trash! A


110
AS WE SEE IT.
The liviucks Y Vinodirectie VGRARIES
hound like that foreman of the Grand Jury! I tell you, Abe,
if that Grand Jury does not indict that bunch of murderers I
shall take my gun and kill the whole d— crowd. What are
you shaking your head about? D- your black hide, you
haven't the courage of a flea. What are you going to do?
Let them go scot free? Well, just you wait until that boy
of yours comes back here; then you will wake up. D— if he
don't fix matters.”
“God forbid my po' boy come back heah wid he heart full
of murder an’ vengeance. No, he mus' nebber know how he
po' mudder an’ sister done die. I hopes, sah, yo’ will nebber
tell him.”
At this point Big Joe Wheatley, Jim Connors and several
more of Malcolm A. Overley's friends, together with the good
minister, rode up to the house. Old Abe called some of the
boys to look after the horses.
“Malcolm,” said Big Joe Wheatley, “tomorrow the Grand
Jury will sit on those cases; already they are bragging that it
will not indict. I do not think myself that it will. But what
can we do? At times I feel like taking my gun and killing
the whole crowd.”
"I can but feel that that will be the only way in which
this thing can ever be settled,” said Jim Connors.
“Why, of course, that is the way,” replied Malcolm A.
Overley. “D— their dirty hides! I have said so all along.
I just told Abe that if the Grand Jury did not indict them, I
would indict, try and execute them, too. H—! They deserve
to die.”
“But, my brothers,” interposed the good minister, “that
would be murder. Two wrongs will not make one right. Still,
when one considers the wickedness of this deed, the wanton
brutality attending the crime, there may be some excuse.
should the passions and desire for revenge, common to all
human beings, get beyond control. My brothers— ”
"May de good God Almighty keep yo’ gemmen from letten?


AS WE SEE IT.
111
yo' passions get 'yon' control,” interrupted Old Abe. “Ef
yo' does 'venge yo’se'f on dese people, an' take dey life, yo'
souls will be los'. Dar will be no 'scuse fo' yo'. I’se de one
dat is most hurted. I dun forgin dese people. Why yo'
gemmen not do de same? God grant dat yo’ will not 'pen'
on any 'scuse an' cubber yo' hands wid blood.”
Old Abe made these observations solemnly and with all the
simple eloquence peculiar to his class. Abe's rebuke to this
man of God was apparent to all. It put a stop to all further
discussion along those lines.
Upon the following day the Grand Jury met and consid-
ered the case. After hearing the three white men, who tes-
tified before the Coroner's Jury, together with the Negroes
who witnessed the murders, Buck and his friends were dis-
charged, an alibi having been established.
The following was found next day in the County Bulletin:
“Messrs. Buck Lashum, Rex and Tom Wardeman, Jack and
Jim Smaly were yesterday discharged by the Grand Jury,
they having been held by Judge Wiggles in $30,000 bond each,
charged with the murder of two ‘nigger wenches' on the
Overley plantation. The time has not yet come for white
men to be tried for killing ‘niggers'.”
And thus the matter ended.
Malcolm A. Overley and his friends were compelled to bow
to what seemed to be the inevitable. The Grand Jury exon-
erated the men who killed these women. The County Bulletin
had passed editorially on the killings. The case passed into
history. Malcolm A. Overley was called from his bitter
thoughts by a communication notifying him that his mortgage
would be due in thirty days, and that it must be paid in full.
The money was not available. What was he to do? After a
long consultation with his friends it was decided to ask the
bank for eight months' extension of time.
When the proposition was submitted to Nick Lashum he


AS WE SEE IT.
110
hound like that foreman of the Grand Jury! I tell you, Abe.
if that Grand Jury does not indict that bunch of murderers I
shall take my gun and kill the whole - Erowd. What are
you shaking your best about: D- pour blaek hide, you
haven't the evarige of feat What are you going to do!
Let them go spot free! We just to wait until that boy
of Fours comes bacit bre: then you WII wake up D— if he
doa 't is matters. **
“God forbidi er po bev top bat bezah wid he heart full
of mirtier än teeme. Ta he mus" Beboer know how he
po muiter an sustituce che coes. sah po' will nebber
tell hirL**
At this point By Joe Wah Connors and several
roce of V2 4. (enler's friends together with the good
m:n ster. rode sa tu the Lease Old be called some of the
boys to look after the horses.
"Malolm. ** sand Big Joe Wheatley, stomorrow the Grand
Jury will sit on those cases; already they are bragging that it
will not indict. I do not think myself that it will. But what
can we do! At times I feel like taking my gun and killing
the whole crowd."
"I am but feel that that will be the only way in which
this thing than ever be settled, " sand Jim Connors.
Whyof course, that is the way." replied Malcolm A.
Overley - "D— their dirty Thidies! I have said so all along.
I just told Ale that if the Grand Jury did mot indiet them. I
would indiet., try and execute them, too.
They deserve
to die.”
"But, my brothers, intern
would be murder. Two wo
when ame considers the
brutally attending
should the passin
huumeam beings.
May de go


AS WE SEE
yo' passions get 'yon' control," menrum in
yo' does 'venge yo’se'f on dese peopit, a tan i
souls will be los'. Dar will be no SCDSE Ít. E r
dat is most hurted. I dun forgir * DE T I
gemmen not do de same! God gran: ca: 5 : De
on any 'scuse an' cubber yo' hands wic Dic"
Old Abe made these observation somut a s I
simple eloquence peculiar to his class 12 i : 5.
man of God was apparent to all. E PIE E
S E
discussion along those lines.
Upon the following day the Grand June 2
ered the case. After hearing the TITA F E T E
tified before the Coroner's Jury, getner *
who witnessed the murders, Boek ant se sense
charged, an alibi having been establisier.
The following was found next dar i tar et mill.
er,
“Messrs. Buck Lashum, Rex and Tom Team
Jim Smaly were yesterday disesangat t
they having been held by Judge W
charged with the murder of the TS
Overley plantation. The time has
men to be trie for killing mig

ed to
en were
m that no
ud no signs of
And thus
Malcolm
to what se
erated the
ad pass
natter ended
erley and in
to be the se
who killed
i
corially
olm
ain't you? 'Cused
er he say youse a dis-
,ut ter say is, I'se on yer
i yer, an' no harm will come
vants her ter come hyre; I want
opportunity to get Old Sue to talk
hurried to Sue's cabin, where he found
door, with her corncob pipe in her lap.
wants to see yer. He wants to ask yer about
113


112
AS WE SEE IT.
denounced the “big bug,” saying that now he had him and
he was going to sell him out. But the officials of the bank
were not of Nick's opinion. The time had not come for the
mortgage to be foreclosed. They prevailed upon him to with-
hold his vengeance for a few months. The extension was
obtained and it was placed upon record, and thus the matter
was settled for the time being.
The isiviwraxis in ivrihi Di RARIES


CHAPTER XIX.
77 THEN Nick Lashum, Sr., learned that Buck and his
friends had been arrested by Sheriff Wheatley,
charged with the murder of the Overley women,
his wrath knew no bounds.
“What the h— yer think of them 'big bugs' 'restin' white
men fer ‘niggers'! D— if I don't git even. Yo'll see. Go
they bail? In course I will. I don't kere a d- ef it's a
hundred thousand. They is good boys, an' them ‘niggers'
was stealin' my bacon. Serve 'em right.”
Thus commented Nick, Sr., when requested to offer himself
as bondsman for the murderers. When Buck was questioned
by his father as to his knowledge of the theft of the bacon, he
said Black Sue first told him that the women were stealing
from the meathouse; in fact, that she had caught them in the
very act. He then determined to watch and see for himself,
and he and his friends caught the women red-handed. Buck
told these lies without a tremor, without a blush. His father,
already convinced that a nigger will steal,” only needed to
hear such a statement to convince him that the women were
guilty of stealing his meat. It mattered not to him that no
bacon was missing, nor that the meathouse showed no signs of
having been tampered with.
“Wall, boy, youse in a pretty fix, now, ain't you? 'Cused
of killin’ ‘nigger wenches'. Yo' brother he say youse a dis-
grace to, the family. Wall, all I got ter say is, I’se on yer
bon', an’ no Grand Jury will 'dict yer, an’ no harm will come
ter yer. Yo'tell Old Sue I wants her ter come hyre; I want
ter see her.”
Buck was glad of the opportunity to get Old Sue to talk
with his father. He hurried to Sue's cabin, where he found
her dozing by the door, with her corncob pipe in her lap.
“Sue, pappy wants to see yer. He wants to ask yer about
113


114
IS WE SEE IT.
The iniviviksi la ivernihiv MRARIES
them Overley ‘niggers'. I told him what yer told me and
what I see them ‘niggers' do myself.”
“Yer tell yo'pappy I'se got no time ter was' wid him. Yo'
tell yo'pappy dat I’se to home.”
“But, Sue, pappy says- "
“Go 'long, boy. What I car' what yo’ pappy say. Yo' tell
him I’se to home.” And she laughed at her own cleverness.
Buck went back to his father and told him that Sue was
sulky, but she would be up to the house in a few minutes.
Nick waited more than an hour for Sue, and then went in
search of her himself. He found her where Buck had left
her, sitting beside her cabin, smoking.
“Sue,” said Nick, with a great show of wrath, “why the
h-- don't yer come when I send fer yer? Do yer— "
“Look out, white man!” exclaimed Sue, interrupting Nick
with kindling anger. “Dose yer know who yo’ is talkin' at?
I’se telled yo'fo' now dat I don't ’low no white man ter talk
ter me dat way. Yo' jes’ mod’rate yo’ tune ef yo’ wants me
ter talk ter yer. Now, what's yo’ gwine say ?”
“Sue, I wants the facts 'bout them ‘niggers' of Overleys,"
said Nick, meekly. “Buck tells me thet yer caught 'em in
my meathouse. Is thet so ?”
“Say, man, ef Buck tell yo' dat, what yo' ax me fer; ain't
dat 'nough ?” answered Sue, with great dignity.
“Yes; but, Sue, I wants ter know what yer did see. Ain't
yer never goin' ter l’arn to act lek a lady? D— ef I ever seed
a woman lek yer. Yer never keeps yer word with nobody.”
Nick said this very meekly, careful not to anger Black Sue
further.
“Keep my word!” yelled Sue. “Yo's a nice one ter tell
folks 'bout keepin'dey word. Does yo' 'member dat yo'
promised me er greenback mor’n six mon? Yo's a nice one,
I swar- Man, yo’go long. I tells yo’nuttin'."
After Sue made this speech she lighted her pipe, closed her
eyes and seemed to forget that Nick was in existence. Nick


CHAPTER XX.
ALCOLM and Abe had been informed that Abe's
mother and sister Lucy had died very suddenly,
UV
and that there was trouble on the plantation
because of their deaths; also, that it was advisable for them
not to come home, as they would arrive too late for their
burials. Abe was prostrated. He could not understand why
he had not been telegraphed at once. Malcolm, Forbes and
Rattles were unusually kind to him, which only augmented his
uneasiness. Forbes was careful to keep the newspapers from
him. It was soon known about the College, however, that
Abe's mother and sister had been lynched and that Buck
Lashum and his friends were under arrest, charged with their
murder. How to keep the truth from Abe longer was the
all-absorbing question before the three friends. While dis-
cussing ways and means to keep Abe in ignorance of the
manner of his mother's and sister's death, Malcolm, Forbes
and Rattles were surprised in Rattles room by Abe, just as
Rattles remarked, “I tell you, fellows, Abe should have been
told at first.”
Abe heard the latter part of this remark as he entered the
room,
“I should have been told what, fellows ?” he asked.
The three boys were so surprised by Abe's appearance that
they betrayed themselves. Abe noticed their confusion.
“Say, fellows, what is this conspiracy? Why, what is the
matter ?” he asked, as no one appeared to be willing to answer
him. Abe observed them carefully, apparently reading their
very thoughts. Finally, he sank upon a chair and said:
“Malcolm, tell me about my mother. You fellows know
more about her death than I do."
Abe made this request in such a pitiful, heartrending way
118


AS WE SEE IT.
119
that Malcolm turned from him to hied his tears. Rattles
remarked :
“Abe, I am afraid you stay in your room too much ; come
with me to the campus."
Abe permitted himself to be led from the room by Rattles,
who said to Forbes: “Tell DeVaux and his friend to meet us
down on the campus.”
Soon Rattles and Abe were joined by Malcolm and Forbes,
together with the other young men. As soon as Abe saw
Malcolm, he attempted to take him to one side and ask him
about the part of the conversation he had overheard in Rat-
tles's room, feeling that he still had something to learn con-
cerning his mother's death.
Rattles noticed the movement and signaled DeVaux to
follow, which he did, remarking: “You fellows shall have no
secrets from the rest of us. Overley, tell us about this sad
affair.”
“No, I cannot,” said Malcolm ; “your friend here has kept
in touch with the case ; let him tell you."
Abe was conscious of the solemn manner in which Malcolm
spoke; also of the solemn faces about him. He sank upon the
ground in an attitude that College boys know well, and said:
“Fellows, I am ready to be crucified.”
The Tennesseean began by saying: “Overly, you may be
crucified before I have related all that I know of this affair,
but you must bear up like a man. We employed a man to go
to your home to learn the facts. We learn that during your
father's absence your mother and sister were "
“Lynched!” yelled Abe, as he bounded to his feet and
grasped the Tennesseean by the shoulder in a grip that cause: 1
him great pain, but which he bore without flinching. Abe's
manner and appearance were so changed that his friends
feared for his reason. His eyes bulged from their sockets,
they seemed to flash fire. He looked a full foot taller. His
hands worked convulsively. His neck was swollen. He did


120
AS WE SEE IT.
not seen to breathe. He looked the very incarnation of the
avenging demon. This was a terrible tableau, lasting for
several moments. All stood looking at Abe in awe. They
were conscious he would wreak a terrible vengeance when his
time for vengeance came. Finally, Abe sat down and said:
“Fellows, I will listen, but I see the whole thing now. I
know that my mother and my sister were both killed. By
whom? Why were they killed? Why was I not told at once?
Malcolm, why did you keep this from me all these weeks ?
Their murderers may have escaped by this time.”
“No, they are awaiting the action of the Grand Jury. They
are under heavy bonds,” said the Tenesseean.
“Who are these people? Who are under bond?'' asked Abe.
The Tennesseean answered after a moment's thought:
“Buck Lashum, two Wardemans and two Smalys. The Grand
Jury will hear their cases tomorrow.”
After a long silence, Abe, as if speaking to himself, said:
“So, this is done to be avenged on me. Oh, my poor
mother! I am the cause of your death! Can there be a just
God! Mother, so surely as you are dead, I will avenge you!”
The boys thought it best not to tell Abe, at this time, of the
manner in which his mother lost her life. So they slowly
returned to their rooms, Abe walking between Malcolm and
Rattles like one in a dream. When they reached the hall
DeVaux and his friend stopped; each extended a haud to
Abe, the Tennesseean remarking:
“Overley, I have said to you before that I am your friend.
I am still your friend. My services and my funds are at
your disposal; command me and them.”
“Abe, I am with you to the same extent that my friend is;
command me,” said DeVaux.
“I thank you both. Your God alone knows what I may
need!” exclaimed Abe.
The two young men then left Abe and his friends, as their
rooms were not in the same hall in which Abe's and Malcolm's


AS WE SEE IT.
121
were; for they, true to their Southern blood, had, when they
first came to Oberlin, refused to live under the same roof with
Abe and the rest of the Negro students who were in this
building. When Abe and his friends reached his room there
was a long silence, which was broken by Malcolm saying:
“Abe, we all sympathize with you. What can we do to
help you in this matter?”
“I want to go home! I want to see my mother's grave!
Malcolm, why did you keep this from me?” he asked, and
then added : “Can there be a God? Can there be a just God?
Can there be laws to reach such people? Can there be nothing
that governs the universe but the avenging demon ?”
Abe had now risen to his feet, towering above his friends in
his rage. He called out again in his madness :
“If there be a demon; if there be a devil; if there be an
imp of hell; if there be a force that will turn blood to gall,
love to hate, good to bad—come to me that I may feel thy full
force; come to me that I may forget that I am human, until
I have avenged this wrong, perpetrated upon my mother and
sister! By all the imps of hell, this was done to be avenged
on me! Oh, my poor mother! I am the cause of your unnat-
ural death! By the God that made me, and with the aid of
the demons of hell, whose help I implore, I will be revenged !
You hear me, fellows? I will be revenged !”.
The three young men stood looking at Abe, conscious that
all that was human in him, all that was good in his nature,
had succumbed to the brute instinct of human nature for
revenge. Suddenly, Abe turned to Malcolm and demanded,
in a tone and with a look that Malcolm had never heard nor
seen before:
“Malcolm, why did you fellows keep this from me?”
Rattles, the only one who seemed to be able to cope with the
situation, said:
“Abe, stop a moment and consider. See the rage you are
in. You cannot govern yourself now. What would you have


122
AS WE SEE IT.
THE VINVLAJMIT Firsi TuAN LIDHAKIES
done at your home when all this excitement was on? You,
. by yourself? We talked over the matter among ourselves.
Malcolm wanted to go home with you. He was ready to
place his life at your disposal. He argued that you should
avenge your mother's and sister's death. But he was per-
suaded that the time was not come. Now, Abe, listen. The
school year is now nearly over. You and Malcolm will soon
be going home. Then you can ferret out the guilty parties.
You can do nothing now. From the beginning Malcolm
wanted you to know; so do not blame him. Yesterday I talked
this matter over with Dr. Finley, and he told me to bring you
to him. Will you go? I think Mr. Donewell has also had this
matter investigated. Abe, your friends are doing all they can
to have those persons indicted; but, as you know, the Grand
Jury may fail to indict. Let us go to the Doctor's office.”
“Abe,” said Malcolm, “I have felt all along that you
should know all about this deed; but the majority of our
friends thought it best for you not to know, as you would
naturally want to go home, where you could do no good. I
was willing to go with you, and I am still willing to go. I will
aid you in any way to right this wrong. I hope you do not
think, Abe, that I will desert you in your hour of need ?”
“Malcolm, I cannot think. I know you and your father are
my best friends. I know you and he will aid me. I will need
your help.”
The young men clasped hands in a friendly manner. Sud-
denly Abe said: “Stay here six weeks? Why, fellows, I am
going tonight. How can I study now?”
“Abe, I took the responsibility upon myself to make an
engagement for you with Dr. Finley. Will you go to see
him before you decide to leave the College?” asked Rattles.
“Yes, Rattles, we will go," was Abe's answer.
When the boys reached Dr. Finley's office the good Doctor
met them very pleasantly.


AS WE SEE IT.
123
“Doctor,” said Rattles, “I have brought Mr. Overley to
see you. We have been discussing his bereavement, and— ”
“Yes! Yes!” said the Doctor, who seemed to divine Rat-
tles's intentions. “I have been expecting Mr. Overley for
some days.”
Rattles gave the Doctor a full account of all that had trans-
pired, and also Abe's determination to go home at once. The
Doctor took Abe by the hand and drew him to a chair by his
side. He invited the boys to listen. He then went over
the whole case, dwelling upon the enormity of the crimes,
the flimsy excuse for them, and the environment amidst which
the people live, who tolerate such crimes in their midst. He
finished by asking Abe what he expected to do after he got
back home, provided he should go at once.
Abe, who had been quietly listening to the Doctor, arose to
his feet, extended his hands toward the heavens, remarking
with great bitterness :
“Doctor, I intend to go home and kill! kill! kill! My poor
old mother's blood cries for vengeance. I hear it as it falls
to the earth. It calls to me drop by drop, as it is drawn from
her emaciated body by the brutal hands of her lynchers. Oh,
my poor mother! Poor and lowly that you were; slave, but
virtuous and true; ignorant, but wise in the duties of life;
look down from thy celestial home upon me, thine only son;
search my innermost heart, where, if one drop of blood has its
resting place, that calls not for vengeance, that falters even
for an instant in that purpose, dry it up. Call me not thy son
should I not bring down upon the heads of thy murderers a
like fate!”
“But, Mr. Overley, consider that to which you are about
to commit yourself; consider the great gifts that God has
bestowed upon you; consider the life in a higher world to
which your ability will surely lead; consider the wishes of
your many friends, those who are sacrificing that you may
enjoy the benefits of this great College; consider the wishes of


124
AS WE SEE IT.
that old father, who is now praying for the hand that
bereaved him, and who, even when he first received the terrible
blow, bowed his head and said, 'Lord, Thy Will be done.'”
Dr. Finley spoke these words with great earnestness, but
Abe was unmoved.
“Doctor," answered Abe; “I come from a race of men who,
though slaves, were never known to falter in the performance
of a duty. My poor mother's blood calls for vengeance. I
see that blood, as she lies bound and helpless in the hands of
her murderers, drawn drop by drop from her helpless body.
I tell you,” continued Abe, as he sprang to the middle of the
room, his whole attitude changed from the man to the animal
seeking an object upon which to vent its rage, “her blood
calls to me; it calls aloud, Abel-like, for vengeance. I care
not what befalls me. I care not what my life in eternity may
be. Aye, I care not what your God may demand. My poor
mother's blood cries to me for vengeance, and I will answer
that call. All I ask is that the demons of hell may lend me
their strength; that I may possess myself of the bitterness,
gall and hatred—the kind which possessed the murderers of
my poor mother—in order that I may wreak a vengeance suit-
able to their crime.”
Dr. Finley realized it would be useless to argue further
with Abe, and therefore remarked, without answering Abe's
last outburst of passion, that he hoped Abe would see Mr.
Donewell and Miss Watson before he concluded to leave the
College. After some general remarks the boys took their
leave.
“Abe,” said Rattles, “are you thinking about leaving the
College without first asking Miss Watson's permission ? I
thought you were more gallant than that. Do you want her
to follow you, seeking an apology ?”
Rattles said this with a view to relieving the strain under
which they were laboring. Abe did not answer Rattles, but


AS WE SEE IT.
125
he seemed to be in deep thought. He seemed not to have
noticed Rattles' little pleasantry.
Suddnly Abe remarked: “That is so; I did not think of
her. Well, I can see her tomorrow.”
This gave Rattles an idea. He determined to see Miss
Watson before Abe saw her. He went next morning to the
young lady's home and explained to her Abe's intention to
leave the College and go home to revenge himself upon the
murderers of his mother. He asked her good offices in per-
suading Abe to remain until the end of the school year, which
she promised to use.


128
AS WE SEE IT.
THE UNIVERSITI W ini muhiy LIORARIES
“You state your conclusion, Professor, and reason back to
your premises,” said Dean Sternly. “You will pardon me
for saying that this is a most unusual manner of reasoning,
and one to which you resort only when you have the Negro
under discussion. Why say, 'we all know the Negro is thus
and so,' when the facts before us are just to the contrary?
In your class report of last year you say, to use your own
words, 'Overley is an exceptional Negro; I may say an excep-
tional man.' I did not know then what you meant, nor do
I know now. I can simply guess. How a student can be
exceptional, and be less than a man, is a point upon which I
beg you to enlarge. But this “exceptional Negro' is the one
under discussion, not the race to which he belongs. Will
he adhere to his vow? I agree with Dr. Finley, that he will
surely kill the murderers of his mother.
“He has been educated, developed, I may say, up to the
point that has been reached by our civilization, where men
take the lives of one another in revenge for the lives of their
kindred or for wrongs perpetrated upon their women. How
is it possible for a Negro, or a man of any race, to live
amongst us, be educated in our schools, take on our civili-
zation, and differ from us in this respect? I grant that
there is a class of Negroes who have been taught that it is a
crime against God, for which there is no forgiveness, for them
to take the life of a white man. I may add that they think it
is even wrong to strike one; but this Negro, Overley, is not
of that type, and that old type is now the exception rather
than the rule. No, Professor, your conclusion is not tenable.
Pardon me, you reason backward. This Negro is a white man,
in the sense that his ambitions and his desires for the good
things of this world are identical with yours. He loved his
mother and he loves his home. His feelings are outraged by
the manner of his mother's taking off. He says her blood calls
for vengeance. He sees her bound and helpless, being lashed
to death. He sees no difference between a white murderer and


AS WE SEE IT.
129
a black one. He has never been taught that a white man's
person is sacred. He resolves to kill. What else can you
expect? What would a white man do? What would you
do? I am almost prepared to acquiesce in his resolution and
bid him Godspeed. But I remember Thou shalt not kill.'
Were I this young man, placed as he is, could I withstand the
desire for revenge that is born in every human being? Would
the Mosaic Law deter me? With all the avenues of justice
through the courts cut off, compelled to combat a sentiment
which sanctions, such atrocities, living in a community that
bids him be silent, because his mother deserved to die, and
that it was fit and proper for those young brutes to take her
life—I repeat, placed in his stead, could I, could you, resist
the impulse to avenge her death? Would you not avenge
your mother's murder? Would you do your mother justice
not to avenge her? I do not condemn the man who seeks
vengeance. I leave these matters for each person to decide
according to his personal feelings.”
“Dean Sternly,” said Professor Narrows, “ do you consider
your doctrine of revenge a sound one? Is it one that should
be inculcated into the minds of these Negroes ?”
“I have no doctrine of revenge, nor have I said to incul-
cate any such doctrine into their minds,” answered Dean
Sternly, hotly. “I have said that the desire for revenge is
an attribute of human nature, controlled only by the will of
the individual. In the case under discussion, and in all sim-
ilar cases, the only remedy, the only means of eradicating this
terrible evil, is to teach the lynchers, by example, that they
will meet like fates. Men who gather in mobs and kill are
not of the class who will face death individually. Men who
are brave in mobs, when attacking a single person, will not
even attack that person with a mob when they know that
retribution will certainly follow them. You gentlemen have
a certain code of ethics along those lines for yourself and a
different one for these Negroes. You say that he must not


130
AS WE SEE IT.
SZIMVYOIT AYD!!a"!
AICHAPA!N 7HC
look at your women, but at the same time his women are not
safe from you. That for which he is lynched you simply
smile at in one of yourselves. Still, you are educating him
along your lines. When you place him in classes along with
your sons and daughters he outstrips them frequently in intel-
lectual power; and I cannot conceive how men can be so blind
as to think that an educated Negro will be any less the man
than any other human being that has taken on your education
and civilization.
“You take the Chinaman, the Japanese, all the darker
races, in fact, even the native African, and educate and civilize
them, and then you point with pride to your work. With
open arms this product of your labor is received into the body
politic. But the American-born Negro—it matters not what
his early environment, the social status of his parents, nor that
he has passed through with highest praise the courses here
prescribed by you, and brought credit to your school—you
consider him with a specially constructed code of reasoning,
both illogical and unjust, and force him outside of your con-
sideration and social institutions. No hand is extended to
him, unless it brandishes a cudgel; no door is opened to enable
him to gain an honest livelihood, no matter how proficient he
is in the branches from which you have graduated him. The
American Negro possesses a something, I suppose, which you
cannot tolerate—a something that no other man nor race of
men, not even his forebears, possessed. How came he by this
undefinable something? Does he get it by contact with this
dominant race of ours? Yes. Examine yourselves and you
will find the source of the trouble. Why, you are unwilling
to accord him the same privileges, the same chance to earn
a living and enjoy life which you accord other men, is a
question which I have long pondered. You gentlemen, pos-
sibly, can give me the solution."
“Well, for my part,” answered Professor Narrows, “the
foreigner acts differently from the American Negro. You


AS WE SEE IT.
131
always know the foreign Negro; but the American Negro has
an air about him that makes him objectionable. He likes to
rub against one too much. Oh, he presumes to be one's equal.
I don't like him for that.”
“Yes, that is very true," answered Dean Sternly. “That is
the secret of the whole matter. You invite the Chinaman, out
of whom you can never educate his opium; the Japanese, out
of whom you can never educate his idolatry ; the Malays, Hin-
doos, Moors, Africans, and all other foreign races of men, you
invite to come to you. The people who never take on your
civilization you bid come. You repulse the American Negro
who has taken on your civilization. Can you not see that that
of which you complain is but the American idea ? How can
the Negro come in contact with you and your institutions and
not be Americanized? Why do you teach him? You edu-
cate him, then ostracise him, apparently for taking on your
teachings. This state of affairs must certainly be embarrassing
to the Negro. Professor, if you are not willing to live up to
the result of your work, you should not be a party to the
tragedy which you are helping to enact. I was born and
reared in the South, and I know that your theory and com-
ments are all wrong.”
“Gentlemen,” said Dr. Finley, “a discussion of this ques-
tion was had over forty years ago. At the time, the founders
of this College concluded that there were no white men, no
black men, no yellow men, no red men, but that all men were
alike before God, and, further, that this idea should dominate
the policy of this College. From this ideal it has never devi-
ated, and so long as I remain President it never shall. This
brings us back to this young man, Overley. Can he justify
himself before God, should he keep his vow? We read, 'the
avenger of the blood himself shall slay the murderer: the
murderer shall surely be put to death.' We would infer
from this charge to Moses that the great God Almighty con-
templated an avenger of the blood. Would you consider it


134
AS WE SEE IT.
deaths is out of the question. I say “them.' I, of course, do
not expect Mr. Overley to avenge them; but I know him so
well that I know he will aid me. I am going home for no
other purpose than to take the lives of those who killed my
mother and sister. I am going to kill—kill every man that
has my mother's blood on his hands. I have determined to
devote my life to the wreaking of vengeance. I have come to
make this confession to you. I have come to confess that I
am a murderer at heart and soon will be one in fact. I am
going to ask whether, after I have stained my hands in the
blood of my mother's murderers, which I surely will do, will
you still want to see me? Will you answer me now or shall
I leave you to consider the matter?”.
“Mr. Overley, I have already considered,” was her answer.
“I have been taught 'thou shalt not kill’—ʻlove thy neighbor
as thyself.' I have also read, 'an eye for an eye and a tooth
for a tooth.' As God is my guide and my helper, I know not
how to advise you. But, were I a man, nay, woman that I am,
should my mother meet the cruel death at the hands of brutal
lynchers that your mother met, I would leave no path
unsearched, no stone unturned; I would delve into the very
bowels of the earth; I would skirt the fires of hell; aye, cross
them, in my endeavor to wreak a suitable vengeance upon such
brutes; nor would I feel, until the last murderer was slain,
that I had done my duty to my dead. Will I care to see you?
Mr. Overley, I feel this outrage upon Negro womanhood most
keenly. I feel that it calls for a terrible retribution. I thank
God that I am permitted to call my friend the one Negro man
who will devote his life to the punishment of the perpetrators
of this crime. Will I care to see you?” again she asked, her
eyes flashing, her slender figure swaying, as the panther sways
when about to leap upon its prey. “Go, and when you have
wreaked the vengeance for which your mother's blood calls,
be it one month, one year, nay, be it Eternity, I will wait for
you!!


AS WE SEE IT.
135
As Miss Watson, who was known for her passive Christian
spirit, finished this declaration she extended her hand to Abe,
who raised it to his lips with the remark: “Miss Watson, I
was afraid you would not understand my motives. I am
pleased that you take the view of this matter which I do. I
am more than proud to know that the one woman now left to
me in this world approves of my determination. Miss Wat-
son-may I say Nancy? I am proud of you. I love you.
I have always loved you. I loved you before I ever met you,
or else how would our souls have joined at sight? Nancy, you
say you will wait for me? Wait for me to commit these
terrible crimes—for crimes they will be? Oh, Nancy, you
have not said you loved me!”.
As Abe said this he held out both hands to her. She came
close to him, permitting him to put his arms around her and
implant a solemn kiss upon her forehead. Suddently she drew
away and asked what his plans were.
Abe said he would go home at once, to which she objected.
“Abe, do not go home immediately; wait until the end of
the school year; then go home quietly as if nothing had hap-
pened. Learn all you can about this deed, who committed it,
and how it was done, why it was committed, if there be a
reason. Then you will know what vengeance to wreak and
upon whom. Be cautious. Ingratiate yourself into the good
graces of all, until you know the whole truth. It matters
not if it takes one year or two years. Success is to be your
object. To avenge the death of two outraged women is to be
your undertaking. I shall expect you to write me as your
hunt progresses. Do you think that a good plan ?”
“Yes, Nancy, that is a very good plan, and I shall act upon
it,” said Abe, as he arose to leave.
“Mr. Overley," said Miss Watson, “haven't you forgotten
something?”
Abe did not seem to comprehend her meaning.
“Forgotten what, Nancy?” he asked.


136
AS WE SEE IT.
“Why, my father, of course; you have forgotten that I am
a minor," was her laughing reply.
“Oh, I will never forget that; all girls are minors up to a
certain time in their lives,” answered Abe.
“That will do, sir; I will call father,” and Miss Watson left
the room.
Mr. Watson was a substantial citizen, who had conducted
a grocery business in Oberlin for a number of years. He was
very fond of his only daughter Nancy.
“Mr. Watson,” said Abe, "you have been sent for that I
may make two confessions to you. You have, no doubt, heard
of the terrible deaths of my poor mother and sister. Well, sir,
I have vowed to avenge them. I shall go home and kill every
man who was concerned in their taking off. I confess this to
you, that you may know the next time we meet, if meet we do,
that I have the blood of one or more persons on my hands.
Further, when we do meet, I shall ask you to give me your
daughter in marriage.”
Mr. Watson arose to his feet, taking a turn across the room.
He stopped, looked Abe full in the face, and asked: "Would
you give your daughter to a murderer—a double murderer,
maybe?”
Abe answered solemnly: “Mr. Watson, should your daugh-
ter Nancy be foully murdered—lynched—what would
you do ?”
After a long silence, the old man faltering as to his decision,
said, as he extended his hand to Abe: “I will consult my
wife and daughter.”
Abe then left the house and returned to his room.


CHAPTER XXIII.
a OON the day of his departure came, and `Abe, with
Malcolm, took leave of the College. When Abe arrived
home he found his father broken and apparently twenty
years nearer the end of his life's journey.
The old man greeted his son without a word, but with a
long, clinging grasp of the hand. In his eyes was a mute
appeal, felt only by the two souls that had been stricken by
the same blow. The father led the way to two newly made
graves, by which Abe kneeled, raised his eyes to heaven, and
in a voice choking with emotion pleaded with the Ruler of
the Universe for strength to bear his burden.
Abe's father listened, thinking that perhaps after all his
son had accepted the situation and would not seek revenge.
The young man fell across his mother's grave, where he
remained seemingly lifeless, while the father watched and
waited, hoping that Abe would soon leave the graves and go
with him to the house to greet Mr. Overley. The old man
finally concluded to call Mr. Overley and ask him to try and
persuade Abe to go to the house. Mr. Overley, accompanied
by Malcolm, came to the quiet burying plot, where he found
Abe still prostrate on his mother's grave. Abe's father
pointed to his son with a silent request for help.
Mr. Overley knelt by him, taking his sand, saying: “Abe,
my boy, come to the house with me; I am anxious to hear
something of your success at school. You cannot help matters
by grieving over what is already done. Boy, I feel for you.
This thing is the most hellish crime that has ever been perpe-
trated on woman in this country. But what can you do?
H— and damnation! What can you do, I say ?”
Abe arose slowly and stood looking first at one and then
the other. Finally, he asked in a solemn voice: “What can
I do? By the gods! Ask me what will I not do ?”
137


138
AS WE SEE IT.
He again fell upon his mother's grave, where he remained
some moments in silence, which was broken by his father
saying to him:
“My boy, yo’ po' mudder am in hebben. She am now
lookin' down from dem stars on yo'. She am sayin' to yo’, to
belebe in de Lawd. Dat de Lawd's will be done. Oh, my boy!
Look to de Lawd fo’ he’p in dis matter.”
Abe arose to his feet, extended his hand to his father,
saying: “Dad, I appreciate what you say, but I feel that I
must avenge my mother's death. Oh, my mother! Oh, my
poor mother!” Again Abe, in a frenzy of despair, threw
himself upon his mother's grave, where he lay supine and
quivering, moaning that the great God Almighty had forsaken
him and his.
He extended his hands toward the heavens, and in the
stillness of the night, in the presence of his father and their
old friend, called upon the God that made him to register his
vow. He said: “By the God that made me, by that silent
breast that nurtured me, by the sister of my childhood, by
all that I hold dear in this world, I will be avenged! Mother,
may I ever be accursed in your sight if I do not avenge you!”
Turning to his friend, he said: “Mr. Overley, would you
not consider me less than a man should I permit these mur-
derers to go unpunished? I swear to you that so surely as
there is a God, so surely as this brutal deed is recorded in
heaven, so surely as there is an eternity, so surely as there
is a hell, so surely as the perpetrators of this crime are watched
for in the hell into which I shall plunge them, just so surely
shall I avenge this murder."
Finding it impossible to induce Abe to leave his mother's
grave and go with them, Mr. Oberley and Abe's father reluct-
antly left him there and returned in silence to the great
house. When they had gone Abe again raised his hands to
the heavens and exclaimed: “Mother! Oh, my poor mother!


AS WE SEE IT.
139
Look down upon thy son! Let me feel thy presence! Mother,
I devote my life to the wreaking of vengeance upon thy mur-
derers!” As Abe uttered these words he sank once more upon
his mother's grave, where he remained in silence until morn-
ing.


CHAPTER XXIV.
TT SOON became known throughout the county that Abe
I had returned to his home. Speculation was rife as to
- what he would do to avenge his mother's death. He gave
no sign, however, as to what his intentions or feelings were,
but set about quietly, though diligently, to glean the facts in the
case. He soon learned that Black Sue had planted the germ
which led to the deaths that bereaved him. He also learned
that the crime had been committed by Buck Lashum, the
Smalys and the Wardevans, and that they had used a leather
horse trace to accomplish the horrible deed. The trace, he
discovered, had been cut in pieces by the five men and the
pieces taken to their respective homes to be kept as souvenirs
of this great performance, thus perpetuating in their families
the fame of having participated in such a laudable (?) under-
taking. Abe concluded that he would possess himself of the
pieces of trace, splice them together, and make this recon-
structed trace the instrument of his revenge. After some
thought he concluded to take Malcolm into his confidence.
“Malcolm,” said Abe, one evening as they sat in their
favorite haunt, the corn crib, “I want to tell you something,
and then I want your advice. First, I have discovered by
whom and just how my mother and sister were killed. Sec-
ond, I have determined how these lynchers shall be punished.
My poor mother was beaten to death with a horse trace. Just
think of it! Seventy years old, and to meet such a death!
And my sister, nude, was beaten to death amid the jeers and
curses of those drunken brutes!”
As Abe recited these details the tears of rage rolled down
his cheeks, his head dropped upon his breast, and he remained
silent for a long time. Malcolm, respecting his grief, waited
for him to recover. Abe finally resumed, saying: “I have
also learned that each archdemon in this horrible crime has
140


AS WE SEE IT.
141
a piece of this trace at his home, as a keepsake. I propose to
possess myself of those pieces, make a whole trace of them,
and then let that gang beware! I shall take them one by one,
tie them to a tree, and when I have finished with them all there
will be five new graves somewhere in this county. I shall
begin with Buck Lashum. There is but one thing, Malcolm,
that deters me. I may be compelled to enter the homes of
these people, especially Buck's, and steal those pieces."
After a long silence Malcolm said: “Abe, I do not think
you should let that stop you. I will go with you and help
you get them. Then you will need someone to help handle
these fellows. You cannot do the whole thing yourself. And,
more, I want the pleasure of laying the strap on Buck. Jim
Wheatley and Jack Connors both told me to tell you they
would be glad to help you in any way you might suggest.
What do you say?”.
“No, Malcolm,” said Abe; “1 alone must do this deed.
You and your friends will make this State and county your
homes. I have no home. If blood must be shed, I must shed
it. There will be a price on my head. No, it will never do
for you to be drawn into this affair in that way; you can help
me in other ways."
When Abe had finished he arose to his feet, looked out of
the door, and remarked: “Well, the moon has gone down; I
shall now go on my errand of stealth. My friends who work
at the Smalys and Wardemans will be waiting for me with
the different pieces. I hope I will have only Buck's house
to enter, and I know exactly where to find the piece he has.
I hope he will sleep soundly; for if he awakens he will face
his Maker sooner than he anticipates. When I return in the
morning I will have the five pieces."
With this speech ringing in his ears, Malcolm watched Abe
as he disappeared in the gloom.
Abe went to the Wardeman place, where he found the pieces
imbedded in the earth on the left side of the left post of the


142
AS WE SEE IT.
big gate at the main road. At the Smalys he found the
pieces sticking through a crack in the barn, six boards from
the east corner next to the spring. Then, going to Buck
Lahsum's home, he entered by a back window, which he found
open, and went straight to Buck's room, where he had been
told the piece of trace was tied to a picture which hung over
the head of Buck's bed. These instructions flashed through
Abe's mind as he passed into Buck's room, all the while ask-
ing himself what should he do if discovered. He was not
discovered, however, and reached home without accident.
Next morning, when Malcolm came to the harness room, he
found Abe busily engaged splicing the pieces of trace.
“Hello, Abe!” exclaimed Malcolm. “You are a successful
pilferer, I see. Tell me, did you have any trouble?”
"Not a bit," answered Abe. "I found everything just as
I expected-down by the big gate at the Wardemans, sticking
out of a crack in the barn at the Smalys, and Buck had his
piece hanging over his bed. When I looked upon that brute
sleeping so peacefully, the vision of his crime came upon me.
I stood over him, hoping he would awaken, that I might
strangle him. I did not feel capable of striking him down
in his sleep. He slept on, but with a look of terror on his
evil countenance. He felt my very presence, even in his
slumbers. His God was merciful to him. Had he opened
his eyes, had he indicated to me in any way that he was aware
of my presence-well-
Malcolm watched Abe for some time in silence, then asked:
“What will you do next, Abe?”
“I have been told by friends that Buck is going to ride in
the tournament down on the Neck next Wednesday. That he
will be gone from home two days. He is sending his traps
around the road, and will ride across the country. Now,
there is but one path for him to travel after he leaves the
back end of his place, and that leads through the Gut north
of the swamp. You know where the solid ground narrows


AS WE SEE IT.
143
to a neck of ten feet in width? Well, there I shall set a trap
for his horse which will cause the animal to throw him. I will
do the rest. This place is six miles from Buck's home, and
his cries cannot be heard that distance. I will endeavor to
impress upon his mind, in the two days I shall engage him,
that Negro women are as sacred as his own, and that Negro
men will have to be reckoned with in the future when their
women are assaulted.”
“Abe, don't make a brute of yourself in this matter," said
Malcolm. “What you propose to do will be a terrible punish-
ment."
“I mean for it to be terrible," answered Abe. “I mean
for my first blow to strike terror to the hearts of these people.
Malcolm, you will see. But I must go and study the land at
the point I have in mind. I will ride Kate, if you do not
object."
"Do not what?” said Malcolm. “You are getting mighty
careful all at once—asking for the use of a horse. I guess I
had better tell your dad that you want to use Kate, and where
you are going, and for what purpose.”
Both young men laughed as Abe rode away. He rode to
within fifty yards of the place, secured his horse, and pro-
ceeded to lay his plans. He first selected a sapling, bent it
to the ground at a point where bushes overhung the path, cut
the top out, and attached part of a plow line to it. Passing
the line through the bushes and once around a series of stakes,
driven in a circle on either side of the path, with their tops
leaning out, the plow line formed a loop into which the horse
would be sure to step, thus causing the line to leave the tops
of the stakes, release the sapling and thereby tighten the line
around the horse's leg. Should it be the foreleg, the horse
will be sure to go down in front. If the hind leg is caught, he
will plunge and kick, unseating the rider.
Abe expected to profit by the struggle that would follow the
springing of his trap. The afternoon of the Tuesday follow-


144
AS WE SEE IT.
ing Abe noted Buck's departure, and immediately set out at a
brisk run for the place at which he hoped to stop Buck and
his horse. He had scarcely seated himself at an unobserved
point, with his eyes on the path, when Buck came in sight, the
horse sprung the trap with his forefoot and began rearing
and plunging, tearing up the earth for yards. Buck fell
heavily to the ground, and before he could recover himself
Abe was upon him.
Buck was filled with terror. His teeth chattered; his lips
were purple; his eyes bulged. Abe placed a small rope with
a running noose about his neck, and ordered him to stand up
and keep quiet, which he gladly did. Then, cutting the line
which held the horse, he proceeded with it and Buck to a
dense nearby thicket. Buck in his terror begged to be allowed
to go home, saying:
“Mr. Overley, sah, yer knows I was always yer friend;
’deed I was. I'm yer friend now. What you treat yer friend
this way fer? Mr. Oberley, if yer let me go home I will have
my pappy send yer a dollar and a half; 'deed I will!”.
Abe made the horse secure, after which he fastened the end
of the rope that was about Buck's neck to a small sapling that
was already bent to the ground, and when this sapling was
released the rope tightened about Buck's neck with a sudden-
ness that nearly lifted him off his feet. Buck grasped the rope
and drew the sapling down to him, thus taking the strain off
his neck. When he did this, Abe dealt him a blow which
caused him to scream with pain and to release his hold on the
rope, which again jerked him by the neck to his toes and held
him there.
Up to this point Abe had not secured Buck's hands. He
started toward him for that purpose. Buck seemed to divine
his intention and pleaded :
“Mr. Overley, fer God's sake let me go home! My
mammy-"
When Buck made this reference to his “mammy" Abe


AS WE SEE IT.
145
sprang upon him, with a cry that resembled a wild beast, and
dealt him a blow on the crown of his head with the trace that,
but for the thickness of Buck's skull, would have crushed it.
Buck threw both of his hands into the air, and with a laugh
that appeared not to be human, as it echoed through the still
forest, sank to the ground. Abe stood looking at him for a
long time, as he lay prostrate and apparently lifeless. Sud-
denly he realized that Buck was getting black in the face; the
rope was slowly choking him to death.
He released Buck and sat down beside him. The shades of
night began to fall; the moonbeams and the shadows were
flirting in the gathering gloom. Buck, to all appearances,
was dead. Abe watched him as if he feared that even in death
Buck might escape him.. All night he lay motionless.
As the sun began to dispel the gloom of the forest Abe dis-
cerned a movement in him and reached forward to turn his
head that he might see his face, when Buck suddenly raised
himself to his elbow and their eyes met. Abe knew instinct-
ively that he was facing a maniac. Buck, almost bereft of
reason, could see but one object, and that one hateful to him.
He bounded to his feet with the quickness of a wildcat, and
was upon Abe before he hardly realized Buck's intentions.
The struggle that ensued, spurred on as it was by a mortal
hatred on the one side and an unevenly balanced mind on the
other, was fierce, but of short duration. Buck, in his wild
rush, endeavored to grasp Abe about the middle, but failed,
and only succeeded in securing a hold on his shoulders, which
enabled Abe to more easily throw him. Buck fell with great
force, with Abe across his body. The small of his back struck
a stake, causing an injury to the spine which paralyzed him
from the waist down, rendering him totally helpless. Buck
never recovered. Abe, not knowing Buck's helpless condition,
belabored him with his horse trace, Buck at intervals bursting
forth in a laugh that resounded through the forest. When
Abe noticed Buck's condition he sat down to think how he
might get rid of his victim without killing him outright. Ide


146
AS WE SEE IT.
finally concluded to take Buck back to the place where he
was thrown from his horse, and where the ground showed a
struggle, turn the horse loose, and leave Buck to be found by
his friends. Abe was careful to cut the sapling which sprung
the trap close to the ground and to remove all evidences that
would tend to show that human hands were responsible for
Buck's condition. The horse soon made its way back to the
barn. Black Sue saw it and spread the alarm.
“I bet dat Abe Oberley knows sumfin' 'bout dis hos' an'
'bout dat chile,” said Sue to herself. Soon a searching party
was formed, which included some of the Overley Negroes, who
were inspired by curiosity. When Buck's dogs were turned
loose, they started for the swamp in full cry and soon had him
located. Every man crowded about with an opinion, all
finally agreeing that the horse must have kicked Buck in the
back while his foot was hung in the stirrup.
When the Wardeman boys heard of Buck's mishap, Tim,
who had become a local minister, concluded he would answer
a call from a town in a Western territory. He left very sud-
denly. About two weeks later Abe learned that Rex Warde-
man, the one who knocked his mother down in the cabin,
breaking her jawbone, was riding three times a week into the
next county to visit a lady whom it was rumored he would
soon marry.
Abe set about to learn the truth. He was informed by his
friends in the Wardeman home that such was the fact; that
Rex seldom returned home earlier than 2 a. m., and that he
traveled the same path night and day. Abe was also told
that Rex was always heavily armed.
After an inspection of the path traveled, Abe found, at a
point remote from any road or habitation, two trees, opposite
each other, close to the path, to which wild grapevines were
clinging. By pulling one of these vines nearer the earth it
could be so arranged that a person riding horseback would be
swept off his mount by it. Abe selected the following Wednes-
day night for his attempt, it being the dark of the moon.


CHAPTER XXV.
D
EX rode away from his lady's home whistling softly
to himself. As he drew nearer and nearer Abe's
trap he became drowsy and permitted his horse to
make its own way along the path unaided, the bridle rein
hanging loose. When the animal came upon the vine, as Abe
had arranged it, it instinctively lowered its head and quick-
ened its pace, and as it passed under the vine Rex was caught
and lifted from the saddle.
Before he realized what had happened Abe was upon him.
He seized Rex by the throat and pinioned him to the ground.
Then began a desperate struggle for the possession of the
pistol that Rex carried, and but for the strangle hold Abe had
on Rex's throat the pistol would have been used with deadly
effect upon Abe. As it was, Rex succeeded in getting his
hand in his coat pocket, where the pistol was concealed, before
Abe rendered him selpless.
Abe bound Rex and took him back into the marsh, where
he had prepared for the vengeance that had mastered him.
When Rex again gained consciousness and realized into whose
hands he had fallen, his fear and abject cowardice were
despicable. Abe sat by quietly waiting for the sun to dispel
the darkness, that he might be better able to complete his
work. Rex, true to his “cracker” nature, begged and prom-
ised Abe to make all amends possible.
“Fer God's sake, Mr. Abe, ain't yer got no heart in yer
body?” he pleaded. “Yer knows my pappy has got a plenty
money. 'Deed, sah, he'll pay yer lots—thirty, forty, fifty-
only let me go home to my ole pappy!”.
While making these supplications Rex raised himself upon
his knees and drew closer to Abe, who dealt him a terrible
blow on the head, which rendered him unconscious. The sun
was high in the heavens when Rex again opened his eyes, and
147


148
AS WE SEE IT.
the sight that revealed itself to him caused him to tremble and
close them again.
Abe, who had been watching him, observed that he had
regained consciousness, and told him that his time had come;
that he had five minutes to prepare to meet his Maker.
Rex, cringing, whining and pleading, dragged himself to
Abe's feet, begging to be spared. Abe spurned him, refusing
to say another word.
At the expiration of the alloted time Abe took his victim
to a stump, to which, after stripping him of all clothing, he
bound him, and proceeded to administer the trace to his bare
back in a regular stroke.
Rex pleaded, yelled, threatened, cursed, and, finally, made
a last frantic effort to break the thongs that bound him to
his post of torture, exclaiming :
“I won't die! I'll see my po' mammy!”
This yell of Rex's seemed to arouse the half-slumbering
demon in Abe.
“Your poor mammy? Curse you! Curse you for a cow-
ardly hound! Beat my mother to death! Beat the flesh off
the nude body of my sister! Curse you! Curse you! Your
damnable crime is now being punished !” yelled Abe.
As Abe was delivering himself of these imprecations his
fury seemed to redouble. He belabored Rex with both hands,
until, in his mad frenzy, he fell exhausted beside the limp and
lifeless body of his victim.
Had one of Rex's many friends happened upon the scene
at this time Abe would have become his easy captive. When
he recovered he stood for some moments seemingly appalled
by the terrible crime he had committed.
The lifeless body of Rex hung to the post, torn and bleeding.
After his first fright, Abe concluded to hang a piece of the
horse trace about the neck of his victim and leave him to be
found by his friends or the vultures, and then made his way


AS WE SEE IT.
149
back to the Overley place. Upon his arrival Malcolm wanted
to know where he had been and what he had been doing.
"Malcolm, suppose I tell you just what I have done, will
that not make you a party to ny crime, or whatever you may
call it?" asked Abe. “No, Malcolm, I guess I had better
not tell you.”
After a moment Malcolm asked: “Why, Abe, can you not
trust me?”
“Oh, that is not the point. I can trust you, but I do not
want to draw you into this affair of mine."
While they were talking one of Black Sue's boys rode up
to the gate on Rex's horse and asked if they knew the horse
and to whom it belonged. When asked where it came from,
the boy stated that he found it in the back lot on Nick
Lashum's place. Nobody on that place seemed to know to
whom the horse belonged. Malcolm did not know. As the
boy left Malcolm turned to Abe with the inquiry: “Abe, who
rode that horse to his death last night? Tell me; I want
to know.”
“Well,” said Abe,“ if you must know, Rex Vardeman
fell from it last night about five miles back in the timber.
When I left him this morning his soul was in Paradise.”
“Abe, what have you done?”
“What I promised my poor mother I would do,” replied
Abe quickly.
When the boy on Rex's horse reached the main road he soon
found persons who knew the animal and who directed him to
take it to the Wardeman place. The Wardeman home was
quiet, nothing having been thought of Rex's non-appearance.
But, when the horse was brought in, the fear was expressed
that he had been thrown and lay somewhere in the timber,
hurt and helpless. The boy was questioned as to where he
found the horse. He, of course, knew nothing. A searching
party was soon formed and on its way to the timber to find
Rex. They were not successful, however, returning as dark-


150
AS WE SEE IT.
ness came on. But the next morning with the returning sun
a party of searchers rode away from the Wardeman place.
This party, spread out over a large area of timber and soon
came upon the mangled and lifeless body of Rex. At a glance
it was apparent to all that human hands had brought about
Rex's death. The opinions as to who committed the deed
were numerous and varied. Si Weedels, who was ever present
on occasions of this kind and ready with his advice, was of the
opinion that the brothers of the girl whom Rex was visiting
were the parties who took the young man's life. His decision
may have been influenced by the fact that one of these boys
had beaten him in a horse trade. It is strange, but not one
of the assembled searchers thought of Abe. All agreed that
some fiend among the whites was responsible for the killing.
Young Joe Wheatley, the Sheriff, who was present, said
nothing, but listened to the story of each man, all the time
firmly convinced that he knew the probable murderer.. After
a coroner's jury had returned a verdict declaring that Rex's
death was caused “by a party or parties unknown to the
jury,” the clans of each county began to arm and to watch
each other. Buck Lashum, not being in a condition physically
to lead his clan, the leadership passed to Tom Smaly, who was
known for his drunken brutality.
After a day's hard riding, following the hounds in a great
fox hunt, Tom Smaly was not to be found among those who
gathered at Goose Neck Inn to commemorate and celebrate the
day's sport. His absence at first caused some comment, but
mirth ran high, and rum flowed so freely that his absence was
soon forgotten. It was not until next morning that his
brother fully realized that Tom was missing. After an all-day
search the body of Tom was found in the same condition and
in the same place that Rex Wardeman's was not so long
before.
· When it became known that another white man had been
killed in the same manner, at the same place, the wise people
e
1
nan


AS WE SEE IT.
151
began to shake their heads. Some were in favor of calling on
the Governor for a detective to ferret out the murderers;
others were opposed to such a move, claiming that A-
County could look after its own affairs; that a county is the
same as a State, inasmuch as it has the right to handle all
matters that arise within its borders.
While these fiery arguments as to county rights were in
full swing at Goose Neck Inn, one of Black Sue's boys, a
worthless mixture of Black Sue and Nick Lashum, came for-
ward with the story that he saw Abe riding away from the
place where Tom Smaly was found.
NUCIS.


CHAPTER XXVI.
ON HE next morning a self-appointed posse of citizens,
11 good and true, soon formed for the purpose of
finding Abe and lynching him. Within a very
short time after the mob was in possession of this infor-
mation Abe and the whole Overley plantation were
warned. Messengers were sent out hurriedly for friends who
could be depended on to aid in case of trouble. This mob,
more or less liquorized, under the leadership of Si Weedles,
mounted on a borrowed horse, he never having been able to
recover from the disastrous horse trade mentioned above,
swearing vengeance and promising great things, was soon on
its way to the Overley plantation. As they drew near the
place a discussion arose as to the gate they should enter.
Some were for going through the big gate, while others favored
the back cut.
“Ole Mal Overley is so d— funny,” said their leader, in
deciding to go in the back way, “that he might git mad and
shoot somebody when he see so many of us comin' up his front
way. It ain't proper fer no white man to git killed fer no
'nigger.'”
These people passed through the barnyard on their way to
the veranda of the great house, where they found Malcolm
Overley and a friend quietly smoking. When they lined up
in front of him, off came their hats. Overley sat calmly sur-
veying them, waiting for the leader to make known their
business. As no one of them spoke, he demanded in an
angry voice:
“What the h- do you d- meadow hogs want on my
place?” at the same time thrusting his hand into his coat
pocket, which movement caused them much uneasiness.
Si Weedles started up the steps of the veranda at the same
time, saying: “Sah, Mr. Overley, we are on a- "
152


154
AS WE SEE IT.
see or hear of anyone of you five men being on any man's
place on such a mission as you are now engaged in, I will put
you among the breakers. Now, go!”
“Yes, sah, Mr. Joe, we is goin',” answered Si Weedles, as
they hurried back through the barnyard.
When Si and his companions had left the place Malcolm A.
Overley, Sr., greeted the Sheriff very cordially, saying: “Joe,
my boy, I am proud of you. You know better than any man
in this county how to handle those 'crackers.' Come up and
let me introduce you to my friend, a friend of my College
days from Nova Scotia.”
After some general conversation, the stranger said :
“Sheriff, I heard Mr. Overley and you use some expressions
to those men which they seemed to understand, but which I
did not. Mr. Overley's expression was, “shoot the crumbs
off you.' What in the world do you mean by that?” This
question brought forth a peal of laughter from all those
present.
“Well," answered the Sheriff, “that is a slang phrase that
should carry an insult with it. It means that the person so
addressed is low and filthy. I am surprised that a fine old
gentleman of Mr. Malcolm A. Overley's caliber should make
use of such slang. Had it been just plain cuss words I would
not have been a bit surprised. But what did I say?"
“Your expression was, “I will put you among the break-
ers.'»
"That expression translated would read, 'I will put you
in the chain gang to break stone,'" laughed the Sheriff.
“Well, well,” said the stranger; “apt, indeed. I could but
notice its effect on those men. We do not have that class of
men in our section.”
The Sheriff left, saying: “I am very glad to have met you.
I hope you may learn to sight a rifle close enough to shoot the
crumps off a 'cracker.'”.
Two days later Black Sue's son was found hanging by the


AS WE SEE IT.
155
neck to a young sapling that had been bent to the ground.
He was dead, having strangled to death. Pinned to his breast
was a card, upon which the following words were written:
“Let this be a warning to all ‘niggers' who carry tales to
the white people.”
When the news of this young man's death reached Black
Sue her grief and wrath were pitiable. This drunken, worth-
less scion, the most worthless of all her illegitimate brood, was
her favorite. Black Sue reached the conclusion that Abe was
responsible for her son's death. She, therefore, swore ven-
geance upon him. She, like all of her kind, was an adept in
gathering and disseminating scandal. She instructed her
pickaninnies to say that Abe injured Buck Lashum ; that he
killed Rex Wardeman; that he killed Tom Smaly; that he had
now killed their brother. This story soon spread over the
county. A demand was made upon the Sheriff for Abe's
arrest. Sheriff Wheatley, however, refused, in the absence of
facts, to arrest Abe. Feeling and excitement ran high.
Those who felt the burden of the affairs of the county most
heavily met every day at Goose Neck Inn, and their sessions
continued until midnight, when the bar was closed. Si
Weedels, always the busiest and most ragged citizen at these
sessions, had undergone another change of heart with regard
to Abe. Some of his friends were heartless enough to express
the suspicion that the sight of the Winchesters at the Overley
place were responsible for this sudden change. Si was loud
in his protestations, and grew louder as the night grew
shorter. He now insists that “no ‘nigger' had the nerve to
kill a white man like that. Whoever hearn of a ‘nigger' doin'
sich a thing! Black Sue and her pickaninnies has caused all
the trouble in this hyre county for the past ten years. Them
people was killed by some oncivilized critter in the next
county.” Thus Si talked and argued with kindred spirits,
while the weeds grew up to his doorsill and the holes in his
boots and pants grew larger.


CHAPTER XXVII.
ONO DISCUSS the mysterious deaths noted in the previous
chapter, and to devise ways and means by which
these mysteries could be solved, Nick Lashum and his
cronies met at their favorite nook, by the pig sty. Si Weedels
was still of the opinion that some “oncivilized” white man
from the next county had done the killing. Jack Smaly was
of the opinion that Abe Overley did the deed, or that Burrell
“nigger" did it. His cowardly conscience pointed out to him
the real source of the calamities which had overtaken his
brother and friends. He felt within himself that he would
surely be called upon to answer for the part he played in the
killing of Abe's mother and sister. Nick Lashum, Sr., could
see no reason why any man in the next county should want
to kill anybody in A— County; neither could Casper
Lashum.
“Si, yer is suttenly mistook. Who's in thet county thet
has got nothin' 'gin anybody in this hyre county? Nobody's
bin hurted by them people fer mor'n twenty yeirs. Not since
Jeff Snooks took and killed Ollie Booker—and none of these
boys 'long to them fam 'lies. No, Sir, yer is mistook. We is
got to look ferder ’n thet. D—, ef I don't tek Black Sue's
gess fer hit. Thet ‘nigger’ Abe done thet killin'. I’se axed
my Buck mor’n onct who did thet job for him, but he don't
seem ter understan'. By God! I would gin all I’se got ter
know! Thet boy war a promisin' boy. He had his faults,
but he was a promisin' boy. Now, look at him. Ef I thought
thet thet Abe Overley hurted thet boy, I'l kill every d'nig-
ger' in the county; thet I would.”
“What good would that do, father?” asked Nick Lashum,
Jr. “The other Negroes did not do it, nor are they respon-
sible for what Abe has done."
156


AS WE SEE IT.
157
“Thet is jes' lek yer. Forever takin' up fer them ‘nig-
gers’!” shouted Nick Lashum, Sr. “D— ef I knows who
teached yer them sentiments. D— ef I did.”
“No, you did not, father. Common sense taught me,”
answered the son, with some warmth. “It does seem to me
that men grown would learn something as they pass through
this life. When those two women were killed, did you feel
that every white man in the county should be killed ?”
“In course I did not. Who the h— ever hearn of white
men bein' killed fer ‘niggers'?” answered Nick, Sr. “Jes'
sich talk as thet makes them ‘niggers' think they is got the
same rights as me and you is got. What right is they got to
have one hundred and sixty acres and good horses and cattle-
horses thet kin come down the road faster'n you kin? I tells
yer, Mr. Nicholas Lashum, thet yer pappy don't want thet
darn talk on his place. D— ef I does.” This last remark
aroused the quarrelsome 'cracker' blood in Nick, Jr., who
answered hotly:
“No, I suppose not. Your whole bunch was so d— ignorant
the day of the meeting here that you would not let white men
talk who had as much right to talk as you had. Now, what
is the result? Uncle Casper is out and ail the offices are in
the hands of the people opposed to you. Your friends are
being killed under your very noses, and all you know and all
you can say and all you can do is kill a ‘nigger.' D— such
ignorance! I have been with people of brains and standing
long enough to learn that killing ‘niggers' and burning their
property is a mighty sorry way to control anything. While
you and your friends were bellowing ‘nigger,' these people
used their brains and took the office of Sheriff away in one
night. Now, your friends are being killed, and you are bel-
lowing ‘nigger,' instead of locating the murderer and bringing
him to justice. I do not wonder that these people call you
'meadow hogs,''crackers,' and the devil knows what not. To
h- with your d— brute ideas! I am cashier of the Pioneer


158
AS WE SEE IT.
Savings Bank. I mingle with the best people of the State.
Must I be forever and continually reminded that I belong to
a family of murderers ?”
“Yes, thet is very fine talk, but who the h- ever hearn of
killin' 'niggers' bein' murder?” asked Nick, Sr.
“Your d-d ignorance is simply maddening,” answered the
son, with great wrath. “Can you give a ‘nigger' life? Have
you got a right to take that which you can't give? I don't
care a d— for these niggers,' but I would like for my family
name to stand for something besides brutal assaults and
adulterous connection with ‘niggers.' If this thing keeps up
I shall leave the State and go where the curse of 'cracker'
ignorance is unknown; go where I will not hear at every turn
that Nick Lashum says this, and Nick Lashum says that, all of
which bespeaks phenomenal ignorance and brutality. I am
tired of it all.”
“Yes, I suppose yer is. Yer an' Arabella is the only two
thet tells ther ole pappy thet he is ig’rant and all these
things,” whined the old man. “Yer has al’ays been a good
boy, Nick; but can't yer overlook them things thet I learnt
when I was a boy?”
“Overlook h—!" yelled the son. “Are you never going to
learn anything? Am I ever to be reminded that my father is
different from the fathers I meet out in the world? Your
whole bunch of d-d ignorant 'crackers' is despicable!” and
Nick left with an oath applicable to them all.
When Nick, Jr., left the crowd began to melt away. Soon
Jack Smaly, Nick, Sr., Si, and Casper Lashum were left to
themselves. Casper said: “Nick, what did I tell yer when
yer started thet boy to school twenty odd yeirs ago? I tole
yer jes’ what 'twud be. You never hearn my boys talk lek
thet. Why? 'Cause I knows as much as they does. I took
pains not ter let them go no longer than I did. Thet is what
I done."


160
AS WE SEE IT.
let yer come in and git what I wants? Youse a fine brother,
yer is! Wan’ter rob yer own flesh and blood ?”
“How's thet robbin' yer ?” asked Casper, warmly. “Yer
is sich a d— hog thet yer wants the best of everything. Yer
tooked thet Burrell place from them ‘nigger' chil’ren, which
o’ny cos' yer one hundred and forty dollars, court cos's, an'
yer promised to gin me eighty acres of thet lan’an’yer didn't
do hit. I fixed thet deal fer yer, and yer keeps the whole
hundred and sixty acres, an' I gits nothin'. Thet's the kin’er
brother yer is. Then say I wants ter rob yer! Ter h— with
thet talk!”
“Cas, yer and Nick's ferever cussin' at each other,” said
Si. “Is yer never goin' ter get ter act lek men when yer gits
tergether? I wants yer both to do better, d- if I don't.”
Si's remark caused a laugh, accompanied as it was by an
attitude of authority.
In spite of the suggestions offered, this assemblage broke
up without reaching a definite conclusion as to the killings.


CHAPTER XXVIII.
7N THE meantime Abe had expressed his determination to
Il Mr. Overley to quit the place, as the “crackers” were
aroused to a point where it was likely they would fire
the house and barn because of the fact that Mr. Overley pro-
tected him. The senior Overley, however, would not listen to
Abe's protests, insisting that he was master on his own place.
At this time Abe was approached by an Italian with whom he
had been very friendly and who had worked for the Lashums
for some time. He seemed to understand the whole situation
and endeavored to persuade Abe to use bombs on the white
people of the county.
“Abe, I maka de bomb. I learna in my country. I shoota
one little birda. Da Counta de Costigni he beata me. I fixa
de bomb under his door stepa. He comea. Buoy! Buoy!
Ha! Ha! His heada go one waya, his feeta keep on run-
ning. I geta my revenga! I leava my country. I go backa
some day rich mana. I liva and diea good mana. I makea
you de bomb. No? Bah! No revenga ?”
“No, Tony,” said Abe, “I do not want your bombs. I have
no quarrel with the whole county. Five men killed my
mother. Two of them are dead. Three live. One worse
than dead. He shall die, however. That leaves two more to
be accounted for. Were I to use a bomb on the first white
man that comes along, simply because he is a white man, I
would commit a cowardly crime, for which I would deserve
the worst punishment. This is not a question of race with
me. But it is a step back to medieval days, when brothers
avenged brothers' wrongs; when the State was not strong
enough, as in this case, to right such wrongs. The time is now
come when Negroes should kill the man or men who on the
slightest provocation lynch or take the lives of their kinsmen.
When they learn to do that, we will have fewer murders of
161


AS WE SEE IT.
163
informed. You may know that, however. With kindest
regards to Abe,
Yours,
DEVAUX.
Abe sat silent for some moments after the reading of this
epistle, then said: “Again have those young men done me a
very great service; this time unconsciously. I have tried in
vain to locate Tim Wardeman. This letter, with its informa-
tion, comes at a very opportune time. I had made up my
mind to go in search of him, which would have been a long,
tedious hunt. Now I can go direct. His wife! Black Sue's
girl Viney! She disappeared about the time Tim did, and
I have no doubt it is she who is with him. But we shall soon
know. Malcolm, when do you start for College?”.
“When do I start for College?” asked Malcolm. “Have
you concluded not to go? We should start next Wednesday.
Dad said last night that we were to finish this year; that he is
very proud of the showing we have made. Have you talked
to your father about going?”.
“Poor old dad! I had almost forgotten him. No, I have
not. I have had very little to say to him on any subject. He
will, of course, want me to finish my course; but I do not
feel that I should remain at College after what I have passed
through in the last two months. I shall leave here for Oberlin
when you do, however. I will then make my way out West.
I am sorry that I must leave Jack Smaly and Buck alive, but
I will return about Christmas.”
Abe then went to his father, whom he found sitting silent
and alone, apparently weighted down by the burden of events
which have so rapidly succeeded the taking off of his loved
ones.
“Dad, you seem worried,” said Abe. “What is the
trouble?”
“Yes, my son, I is worried,” answered the father. “I'se
worried 'bout yo’. Two munts hab yo'been home an' yo' has


164
AS WE SEE IT.
not spent two nights wid yo'ole dad. My son, my ole heart
tells me that all’s not right wid yo’. When de Great Day dun
kum, an de question's axed yo’ what yo’ dun wid dem two
munts, what yo’ goin' say ? Oh, my po' boy, what kin yo'
say?”
The old man's head dropped to his breast, his whole body
quivered, tears ran down his careworn cheeks, his whole atti-
tude was one of dejection, of despair. Abe stood for some
moments gazing intently at his father, whose age and helpless-
ness were apparent to him now as never before. He suddenly
realized what a blow his determination to live for revenge had
been to his old Christian father. His heart swelled with
remorse, but his purpose was not shaken for one moment. He
knelt before his father, whose hands he took in his own,
saying:
“Dad, why spend your last days worrying over a thing
which neither of us can remedy? You say this case can only
be settled at the bar of God. Dad, I sincerely regret that any
action of mine should cause you trouble, but my mother's
death calls for revenge."
“My boy, does yo' 'member what de good Lawd say on dat
· <t? He say dat 'revenge is mine.' Does yo' feel yo’se'f
stronger dan He am? Does yo’ feel dat you is on dis eart' to
do His work or His biddin'? Oh, my po' boy, what I teach
yo' when yo' a leetle boy at yo'po' mammy's knee? Did I
teach you to be 'vengeful? What has yo' lef' fo' de Lawd to
do in dis matter? My boy, it am yo'ole dad's wish dat yo'
goes baʼk to school and leve dese pussons in de han's of de
Lawd. If yo’ does dat, yo’ will tek yo’ ole fodder's blessin'
wid yo’.”
As Abe's father spoke these words he laid his hands upon
his son's head, with a mental supplication to Almighty God
that He direct Abe anew.
“Father," answered Abe, “I have come to you to say that


166
AS WE SEE IT.
“Mr. Overley, I have come to talk to you about my going
off to College with Malcolm next Wednesday,” said Abe.
“You have, have you? Damnation! Do you think I want
you to wake me up to talk about your d— school ? Didn’t I
say go? How long have you been on this place that you
haven't yet learned that I sleep at this hour? You did well
last year. What the h- do you learn at school, that you
don't know better than to disturb an old man during the
hour he sleeps? You, both! Malcolm, I am displeased that
you let Abe awaken me.”
“Yes, dad, I'm sorry, but- "
“But?”' interrupted the father, now thoroughly awakened;
“what is the matter? What have you young devils hatched
now?'
“Mr. Overley, I want to tell you how I am going to devote
this school year. I hope you will bear with me."
Abe then related all that had passed between himself and
his father; also his determination to find Tim Wardeman and
wreak vengeance on him.
The senior Overley listened attentively. When Abe had
finished he sat silent, with his eyes closed, apparently lost in
thought. Neither Malcolm nor Abe dared speak.
“So, you want to go out West to kill somebody, do you?
Well, if I thought you killed the two valuable citizens who
were found dead back in the woods I would have you hanged,
that I would. And you do not feel that you ought to go back
to College? Why?”
“I do not know at what moment the hand of the law may
reach me. I do not desire to bring disgrace upon the College
by being arrested while there," answered Abe.
“Well, I never looked at this dbusiness in that light
before,” said Mr. Overley. “How are you going to live ?”
“I have no fear along those lines," answered Abe. “I want
to get back here by Christmas. I think that Jack Smaly
would like to meet me about that time. I shall avail myself


CHAPTER XXIX.
ar HE day of their leaving came only too quickly, and the
boys were on their way to Oberlin. It was agreed
between them that upon their arrival Abe would call
upon Miss Watson, see Dr. Finley, and leave the town imme-
diately. He went from the station direct to Miss Watson's
home. Their eyes met in a long, steadfast gaze, the one bear-
ing the mute inquiry, “What have you done ?” the other
conveying the desired information. Miss Watson asked no
questions. She seemed to know intuitively that Abe had kept
his promise to the dead.
“Abe, will you finish your course this year?” she asked.
“No, Nancy; I am on my way out West,” answered Abe.
“I hope to be with you again just before Christmas. I have
stopped in Oberlin to talk to you, also to pay my respects to
your parents. I expect to visit Dr. Finley, Dean Sternly and
Mr. Donewell, after which I shall leave the town.”
By good fortune, Abe, after leaving the Watson home, found
the three persons whom he most desired to see in the Doctor's
office. He was greeted very cordially by them. The Doctor,
assuming that Abe was back for the school year, immediately
began to compliment him upon his determination to finish his
College course. Abe's embarrassment was not at first apparent
to the Doctor, who, when he did notice his confusion, asked
for an explanation. Abe stated briefly that unforeseen cir-
cumstances had arisen that would not permit his attendance
at College this year; that he had stopped in Oberlin to see his
friends and say good-bye to them, and that he was going out
West and might never return. Abe's vow to avenge the
deaths of his mother and sister was known to the Doctor, Dean
Sternly and Mr. Donewell, and they felt that that vow was the
basic cause of his determination not to attend College this
168


AS WE SEE IT.
169
year. Dr. Finley arose from his seat greatly agitated. He
walked over to Abe, placing his hand on his shoulder, saying:
“My son, may I not speak to you in God's name? Listen
to me, an old man, who has passed the three-score-and-ten
mark, and who firmly believes in the brotherhood of mankind.
In God's name, do not leave this College; do not go on this
errand to the West; do not begin this wreaking of vengeance;
do not put yourself without the pale of the law; do not do that
which will bring the wrath of God upon you. Leave this
matter in His hands. I know that your provocation has been
great. I know that you cannot invoke the aid of the law. I
know that you feel, from your point of view, that revenge is
the only course open to you. But, why take this matter in
your own hands? Why take your own life in your own
hands? Why leave off the building of a useful life, as you
seem to have determined to do ?”
“Doctor, my mother's death will then have been avenged,”
answered Abe.
“Avenged !” exclaimed the Doctor. “A false doctrine !
To be avenged you would violate the law of the land; to be
avenged you would take your own life in your hands; to be
avenged you would forever put aside the building of a useful
life, put aside the opportunities that are open to you, forever
put aside, dwarf, deaden and transform into an agency for
evil those faculties which God seldom bestows upon man in
such abundance. My son, I repeat, you will do all these things
to be avenged, and after you have been avenged what have you
accomplished?”
Abe stood looking at the Doctor. His form seemed to
heighten and expand. Finally he answered in slow and meas-
ured tones :
“Doctor, not being a Negro, you cannot understand nor can
you appreciate my feelings in this matter. Taking your last
argument first, granting that God has bestowed upon me in
an unusual degree faculties that are susceptible to cultivation,


170
AS WE SEE IT.
must I not also be endowed with the accompanying sensibilities
that would tend to make up the mentality of which you speak?
Doctor, had your mother, YOUR MOTHER, mark you, been
treated as mine was, though she was ten times guilty of what
my mother was so wrongfully accused; had your sister been
lashed upon her nude body until death relieved her sufferings,
even though she had been guilty of murder—would you stifle
in your breast your desire for vengeance when you knew that
the processes of law were a farce and there was no such thing
as justice? With no other means of redress but retaliation,
and no remedy for the wrong except the torch, the knife or
the club, would you refuse to hear the cry for vengeance from
your dead mother and sister? Doctor, God may have endowed
me as abundantly as you say, but the one gift from the great
Jehovah for which I am truly thankful is this right arm of
mine!”
As Abe spoke these words he raised his arm aloft in all the
pride of youth and conscious strength of manhood. Then,
with a sudden burst of passion, he exclaimed:
“Doctor, what do I now care for law, life or liberty ?
Could I go calmly through this life, trusting to a force which
I can neither see nor feel, conscious that the brutes who foully
murdered my loved ones, my poor old mother and my young
sister, are enjoying liberty? Would I be a man? Would
you, under such circumstances, bow your head, clasp your
hands and trust in the Lord? Life is worth nothing to me
now. I go forth from here with the deliberate determination
to take the lives of those who murdered my poor mother.”
When Abe had finished a silence fell upon the assemblage
that was broken by Mr. Donewell, who invited Abe to walk to
his home with him.
"Mr. Overley,” said Dr. Donewell, “what do you expect to
do after you have kept your vow? I have invited you to walk
with me that I might ask you this question. I am not censur-
ing you, mark you, but, as I place myself in your position, I


AS WE SEE IT.
171
can see nothing that I could do. My life would be a blank.
Have you considered well the step you have taken ?”
“Yes, Mr. Donewell, I have considered,” answered Abe,
“and if I do not forfeit my life in this attempt, the time
allotted me from the consummation of my vow to eternity will
be spent in the upbuilding of my people in some foreign land,
perhaps. But I am frank to say that I feel that I have noth-
ing for which to live. Why should I care to live? My poor
old father, now on the very brink of the Great Beyond, is
all that binds me to this earth.”
“Why, Mr. Overley," asked Mr. Donewell, “I hoped there
might be a young lady somewhere who would influence you to
resume your course at this College?”.
“Yes, yes,” said Abe, “there is a young lady from whom
I wrung a promise when the enormity of this crime was upon
her, but who is too good, too pure, to have her life linked to
one whose hands will be red with human blood. When I next
see her I shall bid her forget me. I shall give back her prom-
ise. I shall then be an outcast, a homeless wanderer, an out-
law, maybe, with my hand raised against mankind and a price
upon my head. God alone knows how it will end. But, no
matter how it ends, no matter what I am forced to do, the
dying cries of my poor mother and my outraged sister shall be
answered by the dying cries of their brutal murderers.
Though I face death at the fiery stake in this world, though
I am sure to be engulfed in the fires of hell in the next world,
my mother shall be avenged!”.
As Abe uttered these words he stopped short, looked Mr.
Donewell full in the face, and remarked: “Perhaps I had
better not go further, sir; I am already a murderer.”
Mr. Donewell gazed at Abe for some moments in silence.
In spite of his conviction that Abe was wrong in his determi-
nation, he could not but admire him. The thought ran through
his mind that here is a splendid life wrecked, one of God's
rare creations, one of nature's noblemen, made wretched and


172
AS WE SEE IT.
reckless by the wanton killing of his mother and sister—a
killing directly traceable to lust and drunken brutality. After
some moments’ silence, Mr. Donewell took Abe by the arm,
resuming their walk.
“Mr. Overley, I feel for you. My heart is with you, but
my reason tells me that you are wrong. I would to God that
I might be of some service to you, that I could say or do some-
thing that might help you to the right course! What can I
do to help you?”
“Mr. Donewell, I know of nothing you can do for me; but
away down in the State of Alabama there are two old men
who are dear to me, who have made great sacrifices for me.
I wish there were some way in which you could look after
them and help them to spend their last days in peace on the
old plantation. Mr. Donewell, do this, and you will surely
be rewarded in heaven. I will leave you now, sir.”
As Abe extended his hand to his friend, his eyes filled with
tears. He said simply: “Good-bye, Mr. Donewell; I may
never see you again.”
“Good-bye, my boy," was all that Mr. Donewell could say.


CHAPTER XXX.
7587 HEN left to himself, Dr. Donewell recalled Abe's
words, “see that they spend their last days in
peace on the old plantation.” After some thought
he recalled Dr. Finley's remarks concerning the conditions
under which Malcolm and Abe entered the College. He deter-
mined to have a thorough investigation made at once, which
investigation resulted in the disclosure that the mortgage on
the Overley place was about to be foreclosed; that some of
Malcolm A. Overley's friends were pooling their money to
buy the place in for him.
Mr. Donewell instructed his solicitor to buy the place in at
any cost. When the day of sale came, Nick, being precluded
from bidding, left that duty to Casper. The bidding started
slowly, and it seemed at first as if the probable price brought
would not pay the mortgage. Soon a stranger raised the last
bid of Casper's one thousand dollars. Casper stood aghast.
He raised the bid one hundred dollars, however. The stranger
bid one thousand dollars more. Casper yelled, “Five hun-
dred dollars mor’n thet last bid!” The stranger calmly bid
one thousand dollars more. Neither Nick Lashum nor his
cohorts could understand this move. They consulted together,
after which, at the request of the auctioneer, they bid one
hundred dollars more.
The stranger, who was seated in a public carry-all, arose,
remarking in a loud voice: “Mr. Auctioneer, I propose to
have this place, if it costs me a half million. I bid twenty-
five hundred dollars more!”
“Mr. Casper Lashum, will you let this grand old place get
away from you for seventeen thousand five hundred dollars ?
Do I hear a bid of one hundred dollars more? Seventeen
thousand five hundred dollars for property which is worth
173


AS WE SEE IT.
175
the last bid took the selling price up to thirty-one thousand
five hundred dollars, all the place was worth, and if the
stranger refused to bid again he (Nick) would have more than
twenty-five thousand dollars cash to raise over and above his
mortgage; that this stranger was setting a trap to break him.
But Nick, Sr., whose cupidity was now thoroughly aroused,
whispered to Casper to bid one thousand dollars more.
“Naw!” exclaimed Casper; "who the h~'s goin' ter git
they money together? ‘Bid one thousand dollars more, Cas-
per.' When my home's gone yo’ll gin me one lek you did
them eighty acres. Yer put yer own head in the trap. Yer
is a nice "
“Thirty-one thousand five hundred dollars! Going!
Going!” yelled the auctioneer, now thoroughly satisfied with
his prospective fee. “Going-once! Mr. Zeph Smaly, do
you bid one thousand dollars more? Mr. Casper Lashum, are
you done. Do I hear one hundred dollars more? This prop-
erty is worth fifty thousand dollars, if it is worth one cent.
Going—twice! Thirty-one thousand five hundred dollars !
Make it one thousand more, Mr. Wardeman? Will you let
this opportunity pass? Are you all done? Going! Going!
Gone! This gentleman here gets the place for thirty-one thou-
sand five hundred dollars. The bargain of his life. Mr.- "
“John K. Evers is my name,” said the stranger.
“Mr. John K. Evers, the terms of this sale, of course, are
known to you. One thousand dollars at time of sale, balance
in thirty days.”
“Yes," said Mr. Evers; “I am prepared to comply with the
terms here and now.”
“It is not necessary to go into details here in the road, sir,”
said Nick Lashum, Jr. “We will drive to the bank, where we
can arrange all matters and where the papers are to be
found.”
This was satisfactory to Mr. Evers, who made the deposit
and promised to come to the bank next day at 2 p. m. and make


178
AS WE SEE IT.
you are competent and willing to set up a standard of deport-
ment for the young ladies of your acquaintance."
“Mrs. Donewell, do you not think your daughter a little
severe in her comments?” asked Malcolm.
Before Mrs. Donewell could answer Malcolm's query, Mr.
Donewell came into the room.
“Mr. Overley, I am very glad to see you; very glad that
you are back to finish your course.”
“I am very glad to be back," answered Malcolm. “This
old College is very dear to me. We form ties at College that
should never be severed.”
“Father, what is the matter?” asked Mrs. Donewell. “You
look as solemn as a judge who is about to pronounce a death
sentence upon some person whom he does not believe guilty.”
“Well, I feel just as you express it," said Mr. Donewell.
“I have just passed sentence upon a young man whom I
admire and respect. My heart tells me he is right in his
determination to take the law in his own hands. His is a
position calculated to try the strongest. I would— "
“You have seen my friends, Abe, Mr. Donewell,” inter-
rupted Malcolm. “What has he told you he means to do?”
“He insists that his vow must be kept,” said Mr. Donewell.
“His only concern is for two old men in Alabama who seem
to have made great sacrifices for him. His concern is that
they spend their last days quietly on the old plantation. What
can he mean by that remark? I tried to persuade him to
remain at the College with us this year, but he would not.
He has a mission to perform in the West, he says. I hope
something unforeseen will prevent the fulfillment of that
mission.”
“Mr. Donewell, nothing but death will stop Abe," said
Malcolm. “I have not tried to dissuade him for the reason
that I know it would be useless. He will surely keep his vow."
“Mr. Overley, what vow has your friend Abe made ?”
asked Miss Donewell. “Do you refer to his vow to avenge


180
AS WE SEE IT.
the South who believe that every man has a right to life,
liberty and happiness, have studied these people, and have
come to the conclusion that new blood injected into the
'cracker' is all that will save the Southland. These people
are non-progressive. They produce little and consume much.
The Negroes are outstripping them at every turn, and let me
say that herein lies the trouble. The 'cracker' will not do
himself, and resents with great fierceness the progress made by
his black neighbor. But where is this new blood to come
from? Some States have agents soliciting emigrants, con-
tracting for them abroad, in violation of the laws of the
United States. When they come here they look the 'cracker'
over, turn from him to the better class of Negroes, or leave
the country. They will have none of the cracker.' And the
birth rate of the mulattoes goes on and on. Where will it
end? We have men in public life who have Negro blood in
their veins. These men are fiercest in their denunciation of
the Negro. In a few more generations, in some sections of the
South, the line will be obliterated, much as some of us may
deplore it.”
“Mr. Overley, you draw a gloomy picture of the future of
the South,” said Mr. Donewell. “Can you see no light of
hope, no gleam away in the far distant future, that would
indicate an awakening in this 'cracker' element?”
“No, I can see nothing in them," answered Malcolm; “they
are today where they have been for generations, with an
exception here and there. Where one has reached the United
States Senate, he stands even there for those things which have
disgraced the South. In the Governor's chair, some low-bred
‘cracker' has brought disgrace upon the State. There is
nothing you can do with them. As a whole, they are intract-
able, unteachable and incapable of cultivation. They simply
multiply like the germs of a contagion, fighting ever at the
vitals of the body politic. But where has Abe gone, Mr.
Donewell?”


CHAPTER XXXII.
BE, after leaving Mr. Donewell, went to Miss Watson's
home and took his final leave of the family, saying
20
that he would return the week before Christmas. He
then went to Malcolm's room to await his arrival. Malcolm
soon came into the room, fully persuaded to try to show Abe
the error of his way. He found Abe seated by the table,
gazing at a little homespun jacket which he held, as the great
teardrops fell like rain upon the garment. Malcolm stood for
amoment as one suddenly awakened from a dream.
“Abe, where did you get that little jumper?” he asked.
“Oh, Mammy Rinda made that for me years ago! Let me
see it. Yes, this is one of mine. Here is the family coat of
arms she sewed on the collar. Sh! Poor old Mammy Rinda!
How I would love to see you now! Abe, do you remem-
ber— "
“Do I remember? My God! Malcolm, how can you
ask- "
“Now, Abe, be reasonable,” said Malcolm. “I want to ask
you about the good things Mammy Rinda used to fix for us.
I remember her as the only woman who nursed me, who sang
me to sleep, to whom I told the story of my sufferings, and
who always comforted me and soothed my pains. Now she is
gone, and by the hands of murderers! Curses on them! Abe,
when do you start for the West? I will go with you. Those
hellhounds must surely die!” Malcolm forgot for a moment
the fine resolutions he had made to persuade Abe to stay at
school. He remembered nothing but that that old black
woman, the mother of his childhood, had been foully mur-
dered. The little garment took him back to the days and acts
of her kindness and love never to be forgotten.
Malcolm sat with his face in his hands for several moments.
182


AS WE SEE IT.
183
He finally said: “Abe, I want to help you. God knows I do.
But in what way? How can I help you most? Poor old
Mammy Rinda! The only mother I ever knew!”
Malcolm arose and walked to Abe, placing his hand upon
his shoulder, saying: “Abe, you are my brother. The
brother of my childhood. Why did God Almighty make you
black and me white? Make us to love and revere the same
things? Alike in all respects but color? And this world
holds you responsible for your color! Abe," continued Mal-
colm, as they clasped hands, “what can I. do now to help
you?"
“Malcolm, you can best serve me by not becoming involved
in these crimes I am committing,” answered Abe. “While
I appreciate your feelings in the matter, and believe you are
willing to avenge my mother, it is not right that you should
do so. You should not stain your hands with human blood.
You cannot justify yourself before man or God. This is my
affair and mine alone. I have come to say good-bye to you,
Malcolm. I am going to find Tim Wardeman. He shall not
escape me. But I feel that I am leaving my brother, if not in
blood, in unity of soul. Malcolm, brother, look after my old
father. See that he wants nothing. If I never return and he
should learn the truth, tell him what I have confessed to you-
that I lied to him that he might not suffer the anguish the
knowledge of my errand would bring to him. If I ever
return, I pray God that it will not break his heart. Can there
be a God, Malcolm? Is there a God that directs and shapes
the courses and destinies of nations alike? Why, my brother,
are we brothers, yet as far apart as the poles, north and south,
and held apart because I am black and you are white ?
DeVaux and his friend, ready and willing with their money
and their blood to defend me, would not sleep under the same
roof that sheltered me, because they are white and I am black.
This must be the God that Rev. Dr. Snell down home preached
about. You have no conception, Malcolm—you can have no


184
AS WE SEE IT.
conception of the terribly humiliating effect of this undefin-
able something that makes me an object of scorn, of derision,
something to be shunned, to be ever set apart from other men,
not because I am not decent, clean and orderly, but because
God made me black; a something that white men with the
Christian love for their fellow men in their hearts, and mil-
lions of money in their pockets, have not the moral courage to
stand up before the world and combat. Though the Sermon
on the Mount is against this unbrotherly feeling, they are
unwilling, though professed followers of Christ, to say, 'this
black man is my brother and has a man's rights. They can-
not take a black man into their religious institutions, even
when he is weak and exhausted by the toils and disappoint-
ments and diseases of this world, and say, 'Rest here in peace,
brother; God will show you the way.' That Christian spirit
of brotherhood is reserved for all nations and races of the
earth save the American Negro. In all civilized communities
the Negro, even the American Negro, is welcome and wel-
comed, save in such communities as are protected by the Star
Spangled Banner, the emblem of the land of the free and the
home of the brave. I leave you now, Malcolm; but I feel that
God has made some white men after His own image. I feel
that, should I never come back, my good name will not suffer
in your keeping. Good-bye, my brother!”
“Good-bye, old boy,” said Malcolm, as their hands doubled
over each other—and Abe was gone.
As Malcolm stood listening to Abe's receding footsteps he
suddenly remembered that Abe had no money. Taking all
he had (forty dollars), he wrapped it in his handkerchief,
well knowing that Abe would not accept it if given openly,
and called to Abe, saying that he wanted him to take this
handkerchief, as that was all he had to give him. Abe placed
the handkerchief in his inside pocket, remarking that he would
keep it always.


AS WE SEE IT.
185
After Abe's departure, Malcolm soliloquized: “Why was
Abe not made white the same as I am ? Why should a man
of his fine intellect and sensibilities be placed in this world
where he is looked down upon even by the most ignorant of
white men? What, indeed, must be his feelings as he meets
that sentiment at every turn. But Tim Wardeman will surely
die. Abe will come back as he said he would and go South
with me and finish the rest. Poor old Mammy Rinda! My
old black mother! I nursed at that breast, drew my life from
her care. Father has told me time and again that but for
Mammy Rinda's care I would not have lived. Now she is
dead. Am I not a craven that I do not avenge her? Is she
not the only mother that I ever knew? Beaten to death! My
God! And I have not struck a blow in her defense, nor have
I uttered one word in protest! Shame! Shame! And I am
a white man! I shall go back home, and when Abe returns he
will find nothing to be done. I shall finish where he left off.
I shall see Mabel and go tomorrow.”
With this determination uppermost in his mind, Malcolm
sought the sleep which, try as he would, was denied him.


CHAPTER XXXIII.
A BE, after leaving Malcolm, went direct to the station,
catching the Chicago express. While thinking over
the events of the day Malcolm's gift presented itself
to his mind. Upon examining the handkerchief he discovered
the money which Malcolm had concealed in it. His first
impulse was to return it to Malcolm when he arrived in
Chicago. He concluded, after much thought, however, that
to send the money back to Malcolm would be an offense which
would wound his feelings. He felt that Malcolm had made a
sacrifice for him which he should appreciate. His mind turned
to the working out of some plan by which he could accomplish
his mission without detection. Abe found that his money
amounted to sixty dollars, all told, and that he must find
employment to procure funds to pay his passage to St. Louis.
While searching about the docks for a job, he fell in with a
person who interested him a great deal. His new friend was
a young white man, apparently thirty years of age, well edu-
cated, but a slave to drink, who said his name was “Draper.”
He could not be induced to talk further about himself. He
appeared to “take” to Abe at sight. “Draper" worked upon
the docks when he felt so disposed, seeming always to have a
job at his disposal. He procured a job for Abe. The second
day after they met, while waiting for a boat, Abe asked him
why he did not let liquor alone, get himself together and go
back to his home and friends.
“Draper, you are a bright man; you are College bred; you
come of good stock; you have no excuse in the world for living
as you do. Now, I am not trying to lecture to you; I simply
hate to see you in this condition. Come, old man, tell me why
you are throwing your life away?”
“Black” (this is the name he gave Abe when they first
186


188
AS WE SEE IT.
“Come on, Draper; there is our boat. We can get seven
hours off her; that will take us up to dark. Then we can go
to the Y. M. C. A.”
“Y. M. C. A.?” asked Draper; “what put that into your
head? I have not been inside of one for two years. Then
they drove me out. But we will go.”
That night Abe and his friend made their way to the
Y. M. C. A. building—a large and commodious place, given
over to the reformation and upbuilding of the men along the
docks. The building was filled with all the conveniences need-
ful for such work. The dormitory was a model in itself.
After hearing a long and very instructive lecture by a local
preacher, without a charge, Abe and his friend betook them-
selves to the library. They had been seated but a short time
when a gong sounded and the inmates of the library arose and
began to file out of the room. Abe and his friend sat still.
Soon the Superintendent came to them, remarking that he
observed they were strangers. He also remarked that the
gong had sounded for bedtime. Turning to Draper, he asked:
“Do you expect to tarry with us tonight?”
“Yes, that is what we came for," answered Draper.
“Well, er—you might—but, er—your friend-he, er- "
stammered the good man.
“He, er—hell! What is the matter with my friend?”
asked Draper.
The chargeless minister, who had just been discoursing so
eloquently on the brotherhood of mankind, together with two
other persons who were evidently Christian workers, joined the
group. “Well, er—the fact of the matter is, our rules forbid
the sleeping of colored men here; we will do all else we can
for them,” said the Superintendent.
“Oh, I see! Dagoes, Sheenies—any old nation—is welcome
but the American Negro,” said Draper. “Come, Black, let's
go back to Con McNulty's. We can get a room over his booze
joint, but you cannot get one in this Christian institution.


AS WE SEE IT.
193
he found Abe Overley standing over him with a horse trace
in his hand. Tim collapsed, and would have fallen into the
water had not Abe caught him and pulled him away from the
bank. When he recovered, he looked at Abe with bulging
eyes, and fear and guilt were stamped on his every feature.
Their eyes met. Tim felt that his time had come. His craven
heart manifested itself. His one endeavor was to get away.
He bounded to his feet in a vain attempt to escape, but was
felled to the ground by a terrific blow on the top of the head
that rendered him unconscious. When he regained his
senses, he found himself stripped of clothing, bound to a
stump, and Abe standing over him with a horse trace ready
in his hand to administer the terrible blows that Tim felt
were sure to come. He began to plead.
“Mr. Abe, would yer?”
“Did you ever see this horse trace before?” asked Abe,
holding the trace before Tim's eyes.
“How kin I tell, I'se seed so many?" answered Tim.
“How many have you used on helpless old women?” de-
manded Abe.
“Deed, Mr. Abe, I never did sich a think in my whole
life,” was Tim's answer.
“Liar!” hissed Abe, at the same time bringing the trace
down on Tim's shoulders with a force that split the skin.
“Take that, and that,-maybe you can remember an old
woman whom you beat to death with this very trace. Curse
you, I am now going to treat you as you served her. I am
going to beat you to death.”
“My God! Mr. Abe, spare me,” he pleaded. “Think of
my wife and chile. They will suttenly starve without me to
find for them.”
"Your wife and child? They will suffer! Did my poor
old mother suffer? Did my sister suffer when you brutes
were tearing her garments from her back?” thundered Abe.


194
AS WE SEE IT.
"Take that, you cursed brute, and that, and that. Yell,
you dog. Did my mother's cries stop you? Yell, curse you.
Your cries are what I have come to hear. Ha! ha! Yell!
Yell! Damn you, yell!”
Abe stood over Tim and belabored him with the trace, first
with an even stroke that was cruel and diabolical in its
sameness of contact with Tim's body, each stroke cutting
deeper and deeper into the flesh. Abe's temper arose with
Tim's cries. He soon began to wield the trace with both
hands, regardless of where the blows fell, until he stopped
from exhaustion, dropping down beside his victim, who was
unconscious.
Abe waited for Tim to recover, thinking then to finish his
work. It was nightfall before Tim recovered, although Abe
had repeatedly deluged him with water.
Tim's first cry was, “Spare me, Mr. Abe! Spare me fer
my ole father!”
“Spare you for your old father!” yelled Abe. Did you
spare my sister for her old father?”
“Mr. Abe, my po' ole mother, she ”With a cry that
was beastly in its fierceness, Abe sprung upon Tim, dealing
him a shower of blows that soon rendered him lifeless. Tim,
as the life left his body, gave vent to one cry which was
heard by two miners who, together with Vinnie, were in
search of Tim. They immediately returned to their cabins,
the miners leaving Vinnie in great haste.
When Abe discovered that Tim was dead, he cut a piece of
the trace and hung it about his neck, after which he made his
way to the cabin where he found Vinnie cowering in great
fear, the cry which she heard having completely unnerved
her. When Abe strode into the room, she instinctively knew
what had happened, but when she saw the blood-stained
horse trace in Abe's hand her terror rendered her helpless.
Abe stood in the gloom of the poorly lighted room, gazing


AS WE SEE IT.
195
intently at her. Vinnie was held transfixed by his gaze,
her eyes bulging, her tongue refusing to move. At last she
whispered in a voice, uncertain and weak, “Abe Overley?”.
“Yes,” said Abe, “I have come to tell you not to move out
of this cabin, not to let any person in, nor to tell any person
on earth that you ever saw me in this country. If you do,
the voice that you heard on the hill an hour ago will call you
to that door. Do you understand?
“Yes, Abe, I does, an’ will do jus' as yer says,” was her
trembling reply. “But Abe, yer is goin' 'way. Don't leave
me here. We was chillen togedder, yer tooked me ter Sun-
day school many a time; tek me back ter the ole place. Abe,
I'll be yer wife. I swears ter yer, Abe, I never had a 'nigger'
man in all my life. Ise always been a good woman. I—_"
“Been a good woman?” was Abe's contemptuous reply.
“What do you call that?” pointing to the child. “Be my
wife! Move out of this cabin before twelve o'clock tomor-
row night and you will join Tim Wardeman in hell.” With
this remark, Abe left Vinnie, as he had a distance of ten
miles to walk to catch the Overland express to Utah City.
Abe reached that city in safety. He then went to San
Francisco, from which city he shipped on a coastwise
steamer plying between San Francisco and Vancouver.
From Vancouver Abe made his way to Windsor, Canada,
from which point he wrote Malcolm, asking whether it was
advisable for him to come to Oberlin. Malcolm wrote him
that he might come in perfect safety, and Abe left Windsor,
arriving in Oberlin ten days before Christmas.
When he left Vinnie, she sat for a long time trying to
think what was best to do. Suddenly she thought of a miner
by the name of Hutchins who had been very friendly to her
in Tim's absence. She arose and looked out of the door,
remarking that surely it was after twelve o'clock. In reality
it was little past sunrise. Vinnie determined, however, to


AS WE SEE IT.
197
he struck a very rich vein of ore and left the mining camp,
taking his family of three children and his half-breed Indian
wife with him. It is not known whether Vinnie ever saw
her mother and brothers again. It is to be hoped that their
new life and new surroundings will be an inspiration to them.
Parson Tim was taken to the parsonage by his members and
prepared for burial. In the absence of either undertaker or
preacher, the preparation and burial were not of long dura-
tion. Tim died as he had lived—a miserable wretch.


AS WE SEE IT.
199
love you more for it,” said Abe, implanting a fervent kiss
upon her forehead.
“Abe, what do you propose to do now?” asked Miss
Watson.
"I am going home to settle accounts with Jack Smaly and
Buck Lashum,” answered Abe.
“Abe, when all this is ended, what will you do the rest
of your life?” inquired Miss Watson.
“I do not know, Nancy. I shall do something that will
gain us a livelihood," was Abe's reply.
“When are you going home? When do you start?” was
Miss Watson's next query.
“I will leave here tomorrow at midnight. I want to join
Jack Smaly in his Christmas festivities." answered Abe.
“But before leaving I want to see Mr. Donewell. I will
leave you now. May I return later?”
“I will inform you when you return whether or not you
may remain,” laughed Miss Watson.
Abe went immediately to Malcom's room, where he found
the latter hard at work.
“Hello, Malcolm! How are you? Are you still in the lead
in your classes? You look well. Hard study and good com-
pany seem to agree with you. Why, what is that you are
reading? For what are those clothes being aired? I never
saw those full dress clothes before. What's coming off?
Going to a ball? Don't let my coming stop you. I want to
see- '
“Abe Overley!” interrupted Malcolm. “I have been
looking for you for several days. You are hurting my hand.
How can I answer all those questions? I am not going to
a ball. I am going to be married."
"Be what!” exclaimed Abe. “Be married? Will your
father be present? When will the event take place? To-
night! Want me to stand with you? Malcolm, are you
crazy? That would never do. Tell me about it.”


200
AS WE SEE IT.
Malcolm told Abe that he and Miss Mabel Donewell were
to be quietly married that evening and were to start imme-
diately for Cleveland and New York, leaving New York in
time to reach home Christmas day. Abe was also informed
by Malcolm that he had not consulted his father,—that the
whole thing was intended to surprise him.
“I have no doubt that it will surprise him," said Abe.
“You have my word for it that what he will say will also
surprise your bride.”
“Be that as it may, I want you to stand with me,—to give
me away,” laughed Malcolm.
“I have no clothes,” said Abe, “nor do I think it proper
for me to join the company in which I would find myself
should I accede to your request.”
“I have had several full dress suits brought here for you
to select one from," said Malcolm. “It is out of the question
for you not to be present at my marriage. You are my only
friend at this College. Would you desert me at this time?”
“No, Malcolm, of course not. I will wear those clothes
and try to look happy for your sake,” said Abe. “But,
Malcolm, this is very sudden, is it not?”
“Yes, it is sudden,” answered Malcolm.
DeVaux soon came into the room in company with his
friend from Tennessee; they, together with Rattles and
Forbes, having promised to stand by Malcolm, and make all
the trouble possible for him. They had bribed the Negro
coachman to drive them out toward Lake Erie, to within a
short distance of a road house kept by Joe Hilton, where he
would be met by those young men, who would stop the
carriage, relieve them of their baggage and valuables, detach
the horses, and leave the bride and groom to find their way,
as best they could, to the road house. Abe learned of the
plot and determined to frustrate their plans. The driver was
again bribed, this time by Abe, to let him (Abe) drive in his


AS WE SEE IT.
201
stead. After the ceremony and while the couple held an
impromptu reception, Abe slipped out of the house, donned
the driver's livery, and took his seat upon the box. DeVaux
came out and asked the driver if everything was all right,
Abe said: “Yes, sah,” then added: “Boss, can't yo'gin de
ole man another ten; I’se lierble to git fired fo’ dis."
“Here's the money, old man; now keep your head and
drive fast.”
“I'll sho' drive fas', sah," said the driver, with a broad
grin.
DeVaux did not recognize Abe in the darkness. Soon
Malcolm and his bride came out followed by the throng of
mischief makers. They put the bridal couple in their car-
riage, remarking to the driver that he had just seven minutes
to catch the midnight express.
“I'll git thar, sah,” said Abe.
DeVaux and his friends got into their carriage motioning
Abe to proceed, the whole party moving off at a terrific rate.
At the second corner Abe turned toward the station. The
occupants of the other carriages noticed this move. Then
began a race to the station that was fast and furious, but of
short duration. Abe dashed up to the platform just at the
express was pulling in. He jumped off the box and opened
the door, saying:
“Quick, Malcolm, run for the train.” Noting Malcolm's
hesitation, for he did not recognize Abe in his livery, Abe
grasped him by the arm and pulled him out of the carriage.
“Run for the train, I tell you; they are coming.”
Malcolm did not need a second warning, but hurried aboard.
Abe grasped the baggage and was soon on the train. They
were not seated, however, before Malcolm's friends were
also in the coach. They started for the supposed coachman,
but recognized Abe. The trick was apparent and the joke
was on them. Abe relieved himself of his livery, pass-


202
AS WE SEE IT.
ing it out to the Negro coachman, forgetting at the same
time that he had placed DeVaux's ten-dollar bill in the
pocket of the coat, where it was found by the Negro driver.
DeVaux extended his hand to Abe, saying: “Abe, in con-
sideration of what you did for my brother in Chicago, I for-
give you this trick.”
Abe laughingly replied that he appreciated his goodness
of heart and as an evidence of that good will DeVaux might
call on Miss Watson and explain Abe's sudden departure.
Soon the train was on its way to Cleveland.
“Abe, tell me about this escapade. What had those fel-
lows planned to do?” asked Malcolm.
“Mr. Overley, do tell us. From their disappointed looks
I know they had planned something that would have an-
noyed us very much,” said Mrs. Overley.
“Yes,” said Abe, they had planned to delay your depart-
ure. You were to be driven out on the road toward Lake
Erie, held up by highwaymen, robbed of bag and baggage,
the horses detached from your carriage, and you were to be
left to the tender mercies of the storm.”
“I would not have cared, would you, Malcolm ?” asked
Mrs. Overley, as she nestled close to him.
“Cared! Of course I would. Suppose you had become
chilled and caught cold? I would never have forgiven those
fellows,” said Malcolm. “Abe, how did you manage to frus-
trate them?”
Abe then related his connection with the affair, also stat-
ing that DeVaux had given him a ten-dollar bill which he
put in the pocket of the coachman's coat and forgot it when
the coat was returned.
“Abe, where are you going now?” suddenly asked
Malcolm.
“Why, Malcolm, do you think you can get along without
my care?”' laughed Abe.


AS WE SEE IT.
203
“I will be glad if you will stay with us,” said Malcolm,
“but as you have said nothing of your intentions, I, of
course, do not know what to expect.”
“Malcolm, I am going home. I want to arrive at night. I
will have ten miles to walk across the country. My plans
must all be arranged before Christmas day. I will have but
two days in which to perfect them. So you may expect me
to leave you in Cleveland,” said Abe.
When the train bearing Mr. and Mrs. Malcolm A. Overley,
Jr., reached Cleveland, Abe took his leave of them and they
betook themselves to a hotel.


AS WE SEE IT.
211
compliment to the intelligence and standing of the gentle-
men who are present tonight for such sentiments as we have
heard here to be heralded to the whole country as the opinion
of the sober-minded and better-thinking whites of the South
I do not subscribe to such sentiments and wish most emphatic-
ally to be put on record as expressing my disapproval of
them. Such ideas are in contravention of the spirit of the
Constitution of the United States, which every good citizen
is pledged to uphold and support. They are opposed to the
doctrines of Christianity, which teaches the Fatherhood of
God and the Brotherhood of Man. They violate the spirit
of our American civilization, which declares for equal rights
for all and special privileges for none.
“If we are not patriotic enough to uphold our Constitu-
tion; or, if we do not accept the Christian doctrine of
Brotherhood; or, if we do not believe in the theory of equal
rights, as business men we ought to seek the Negro's eleva-
tion politically, socially, and economically; because the more
we elevate him and increase his earning power, his saving
power, and his intelligent appreciation of his relation to his
community, the more valuable he is to us. He becomes a
land owner and must need money which he will invest in our
stocks and deposit in our banks. As he earns more he
spends more. Intelligence and education increase his needs
and wants, which we alone can supply. It is worse than sui-
cidal for us to restrain and restrict the development of such
an element in our community.
“The rural Negroes in this county earn on the average
eight dollars per month. Nearly every dollar of it
comes back to us through our stores and business people.
Suppose in some way we could increase their earning power
to twenty, thirty, or fifty dollars per month; their additional
earnings would still come to us. If you had a piece of poor
land, would you keep it poor? Would you use every effort


212
AS WE SEE IT.
to prevent the improvement of the land or would you fertil-
ize and cultivate it so as to increase its productive power?
Of course you would improve it. Why not pursue the same
course toward the Negro. If schools improve the earning
power and civic value of the whites, they will do the same
for the Negro. If kindness and brotherly love and opportu-
nity make the white man a better citizen, they will make the
black man more useful and more valuable. Whenever a
citizen is made better the community is made richer. It
would seem therefore that this attitude of repression and
proscription toward the Negro is not only un-American, un-
Christian, and unjust, but it is positively impairing the very
communities we are pretending to serve.
“Again, it is impossible to practice such injustices upon
our weaker brother without directly injuring and preventing
the right development of our own moral natures. To culti-
vate unreasoning prejudice, to concoct schemes which are
aimed at the peace, happiness or welfare of another is to set
in motion influences that sap out the sweetness and beauty
of our souls. This sort of an attitude embitters our own
lives, handicaps our children, spoils our women, degrades
our homes and undermines our civilization. I cannot under-
stand and have never understood why we commit ourselves
to this unwise and un-Christian policy.
“For myself, there is no right or privilege which I enjoy
or which I seek for my family that I am not willing to accord
to the humblest Negro in the land, and I believe that it is in
this spirit that the proper solution of this vexed question
must come.
“We must realize and accept the fact that we cannot keep
among us and treat as aliens a race of people who are wor-
shiping the same God, reading the same Bible, attending
the same school system, serving under the same flag, forming
a part of the same civilization. We must accept them as a


AS WE SEE IT.
213
part of our homogeneous population and treat all alike, or
we must get rid of them entirely. Since the latter is impos-
sible, the former is clearly our duty.
“Let me urge you to educate the Negro to see political
issues as you do; to treat him politically as you do other
races of mankind that have come among you.
“Your legislature has just enacted a State-wide prohi-
bition law. In Mobile it is enforced strictly against the
Negro. The Negro dens and saloons have been closed up and
it is well-nigh impossible for Negroes to obtain intoxicating
liquors, a thing for which the better class of Negroes are
truly thankful, while the low and vicious whites have free ac-
cess to it. Your prohibition law, so far as it is enforced, is
similar to your educational qualifications as to the franchise.
You place before these people an incentive, an obstacle to
overcome, which you do not place before the ignorant of your
own race. Illiteracy among the poor whites is not decreasing
as rapidly as it is among the Negroes. The poor whites have
practically the same percentage of illiteracy now as they
had fifty years ago. You say to the Negro, educate your
children. You leave the ignorant white man to flounder on
and on, upon the theory that because he is a white man, that
will suffice. It does seem to me that the folly of such a policy
should be apparent to all men.
“Gentlemen, do you know what these Negroes are doing?
Do you know that they control just a few thousand less
than five hundred million dollars worth of farm property in
this country? Do you know that they own and operate farms
valued at six millions of dollars more than the total of all
capital invested in manufactories in the twelve Southern
States in eighteen sixty? This farm land that they own and
operate if put acre to acre would make a strip of land five
miles wide that would reach from New York City to San
Francisco. If by nineteen forty, as predicted by the United


CHAPTER XXXVII.
777 HEN Abe left Malcolm and his bride he proceeded
at once to the County of C- , nine miles below
the Overley plantation. He arrived near mid-
night, walking across the county to Cleo's cabin, where he
rested during the day, while gathering the news of the
neighborhood. Abe learned that Buck Lashum could be seen
any fine morning in a glass inclosure, which his father had
built on his front porch. His chair is rolled into this retreat
where he is left for hours at a time.
Abe concluded to visit him in this place. When he saw
Buck in his helpless condition, noticed his look of recogni-
tion, and that, although he could neither move nor speak,
his face bore a look of terror, he concluded to leave him as he
was, feeling that his punishment would be greater if left in
that condition. Abe succeeded in regaining the Overley
plantation without having been seen. Early Christmas
morning, Abe, mounted on Ben, the Overley horse mentioned
in a previous chapter, was riding through the back woods,
when suddenly he came upon a horseman, who, upon seeing
him, wheeled his horse and fled into the woods. Abe recog-
nized Jack Smaly in the fleeing horseman.
“Go, Ben! Go!” cried Abe. The old racer seemed to
understand that he was to make the effort of his life. Away
he dashed along the cow path over which Jack was racing.
Abe noticed that Jack was well mounted. His horse seemed
scarcely to touch the earth, so quick was she in her move-
ments.
“Ben, go! Are you going to fail me now? On! On! I
tell you!” Abe had his horse trace buckled about his waist;
he raised it above his head to deal old Ben a blow, but
lowered his hand, muttering: “No, this is not for you.
216


AS WE SEE IT.
217
Never will I disgrace you, old horse, by a blow with this
blood-stained lash. This is for murderers.”
The old horse, now thoroughly aroused, increased his pace,
rapidly closing in on Jack, who seemed to know that he was
being overhauled. A few more bounds brought them to a
clearing, across which their course led. Jack turned in his
saddle, with a pistol in his right hand, which he leveled and
fired at Abe twice in rapid succession. Abe swung his horse
to Jack's left, making it impossible for him to turn far
enough in his saddle to get his range without unseating
himself. Jack's movements were fatal to him, as they caused
his horse to slacken her pace. At the same time his shots
went wide of their mark. As old Ben came along side of
Jack's horse, Abe dealt Smaly a blow upon the head which
knocked him to the ground. Jack fell upon his head, the
force of the fall breaking his neck.
Abe dismounted and hastened to his victim, thinking to
lash him as he had his brother; but he found Jack dead, and
concluded to leave him where he had fallen knowing that
his friends would soon find him. Abe then went to his
father's cabin, where he found the old man at breakfast,
which had been prepared by one of Cleo's girls. After
greeting his father, Abe greeted the girl just as if he had not
seen her before. He remained until, by the confusion at the
big house, he knew Malcolm and his bride and friends had
arrived. Abe found them as Malcolm was introducing Mrs.
Overley to his father.
“What is that you say, boy?” exclaimed the father.
“Your wife? Who the - ? What the — ? How in the
- You have disobeyed me, Sir. Abe, tell me what my
Abe has done. Got married? Didn't he tell me that? Not
one word, sir. You have disobeyed me. Abe,” he cried,
addressing Old Abe, “I have asked that boy of yours to tell
me what my Abe has done. He does not obey me. Those


CHAPTER XXXVIII.
YEW YEAR'S day came only too soon. Malcolm was
reminded of the fact that he still had his course at
Oberlin College to finish. His father insisted that the
bride stay with him for a short time only. It was finally
agreed that she would stay on the plantation until Easter
time, when she, and the Senior Overley, would visit Oberlin.
At the end of the school year the Donewells and Overleys
would make an extended tour of Canada and Europe. The
party finally left. Abe bade farewell to his friends, the
mates of his boyhood days, knowing that he would never
return.
His farewell to his mother's grave was taken in silence.
He approached the mound in company with his father,
Messrs. Overley and Donewell, Dean Sternly and Professor
Smirchum. This old woman's grave nestled among the
graves of seven generations of Overleys, and was marked by
a granite stone upon which was inscribed “Mammy 'Rinda,”
a term of endearment fully understood only by those who
knew and appreciated her. As the party stood with uncov-
ered heads different thoughts and feelings surged through
their breasts.
Abe's sorrow was of the kind that wrings men's hearts.
He was a strong man bowed with grief, a strong heart burst-
ing with a sense of injustice. His whole being strained to
the bursting point, with no outlet. Dry eyes, twitching
mouth, clinched hands, rigid form, marked his terrible suf-
ferings. All eyes were turned upon him. Professor
Smirchum, who seemed to be greatly affected by Abe's mute
agony, took his hand and said in a kindly voice:
“Mr. Overley, I am sorry, indeed, to see the extent of your
sorrow. Your mother must have been a grand woman to
221


AS WE SEE IT.
223
women that it has ever been my lot to meet. I can never for-
get that she took my Abe to her breast, a puny, sickly child,
nursed him day and night, put new life in him, guided his
footsteps, was a mother to him, indeed, until he is now the
man of whom I am proud. That old woman was your mother.
She was a slave in name, but never in fact. Boy, there is
nothing I will not do for you so long as you are true to
her teachings. Your old father has ever been my companion.
We shall continue our journey of life together.”
“I thank you, Mr. Overley,” said Abe, as they clasped
hands.
Professor Smirchum had been a close observer of all that
was transpiring. He had never dreamed of such friend-
ships among the people of the South.
When the party turned to leave Abe put his arm about
his father and said: “Dad, I leave with Malcolm tomorrow
I have three more years in school in which time I hope to
have finished a course in civil engineering; then, if God has
been merciful to us, I will send for you to spend your last
days with me and mine.”.
The old man raised his eyes to heaven and said: “Lawd,
watch over my boy. Thy will be done."
As the sun went down the next day, the Donewell car,
with Abe aboard, crossed the Alabama line, bearing him away
from scenes and faces which he was destined never to see
again.


230
AS WE SEE IT.
height of a consuming passion when the vision of Nancy and
her child came before him. His passion was subdued. His
calm reason regained its sway. Abe was himself again. He
promised the Japanese that after he had consulted his wife
he would give them a definite answer. When Abe arrived at
home that night he found Nancy in a dimly lighted room,
quietly rocking his little son, who seemed fretful. Nancy
noticed by Abe's demeanor that something unusual had hap-
pened. Motioning him to a seat by her side she asked what
was troubling him. Abe told her of the offer made him by
the envoys of Japan laying particular stress upon the com-
mission, but he said, speaking as if in a dream. “Can I
renounce forever, the allegiance I owe my country because
of personal wrongs, because of the crimes of murderers;
can I renounce forever the land that gave my mother birth,
the land in which she now lies buried; can I renounce for-
ever, the land that my fathers knew, the land which I now
know as my country, my home; can I renounce forever, the
land of my few friends, the land in which they are daily
appearing; can I renounce forever that which I know, and
embark in a foreign land in that which is problematical;
can I- ?"
He suddenly sprang to his feet, saying:
“Nancy, my mother appeared to me in my thoughts. She
held the Stars and Stripes proudly above her head while her
other hand was extended to me. My mother wills that I
shall defend the flag of my country.”
Two days later the Japanese called upon Abe to obtain his
final answer. He said: “Gentlemen, I have considered your
proposition very carefully and conclude that, although the
Stars and Stripes afford me little protection, although the
laws of this land are interpreted against me, although the
machinery of the law is too weak to bring the murderers of
my mother to justice, in spite of these things and in spite of


AS WE SEE IT.
231
attempts at every turn to humiliate me, in spite of what may
seem strange to you, that one part of a nation can and does
hate another, I must decline your offer. Will you fight the
land of the Rising Sun? No! Nor will I fight the land of
my birth, over which the sun is now rising. I am proud that
I am an American!”
The Japanese were astounded. They, like hundreds of
thousands of other people, American citizens, too, never
imagined that a Negro's heart was governed by the same
honorable impulses that other men’s are; that his soul is
alive to the touch that stirs other men; in short, that a Negro
is a Man.
Two weeks before Abe's commencement, Mr. Golden-
heimer died very suddenly. Abe was notified that his
services as superintendent would be dispensed with, but that
he could have the choice of the care of any one of the flats,
that now numbered thirteen, at seventy-five dollars per
month. Abe immediately severed all connections with the
estate. His wife, who handled his finances, showed him de-
posits to the amount of twenty-five hundred dollars, and Abe
concluded to embark in the practice of his profession.
Abe's commencement day was June 1st, 18— May 31st
a long, legal envelope was handed Mrs. Overley by the
postman. It proved to contain a very important document.
It appears that Leon DeVaux had been making yearly trips
to New York, and had kept in close touch with Abe's prog-
ress, through Mr. Goldenheimer, and knew his standing in
the college. DeVaux's brother was the head of a large cor-
poration that was reclaiming land in the lower counties of
the State of Louisiana, and building a narrow-gauge railroad
to the coast. This envelope contained a contract guarantee-
ing him employment for five years, at twelve hundred dollars
the first year, twenty-four hundred dollars the second year,
three thousand dollars the third year and thereafter. His























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