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Neither Bond Nor Free.
} (A PLEA.)
“What's freedom widout sumphn' wid it P”
—JACK DEMPSEY.
BY
G. LANGHORNE PRYOR.
“Howe'er it be it seems to me,
'Tis only noble to be good.
Kind hearts are more than coronets,
And simple faith than Norman blood.”
Copyright, 1902, by J. S. Ogilvie Publishing Company.
NEW YORK :
J. S. oGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY,
57 ROSE STREET,





A FEW OPINIONS OF
“NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.”
REv. GEO. H. HEPwoRTH, D.D., of New York “Herald”: “I
hope the project may prove successful, as it deserves to be.”
Rev. H. B. FRISSELL, Principal, Hampton Institute : “The
book contains some excellent points.”
FUNK & WAGNALLs, Publishers “Literary Digest,” New York:
“It is indeed an eloquent plea—very persuasive, and writ-
ten in a calm and dispassionate manner. The author has
evidently thought much on the race problem.”
REv. R. H. W. LEAK, D.D., Manager, A. M. E. Book Concern,
Philadelphia: “It's a good book. I like it very much.”
CoL. J. R. WADDY, Postmaster, Norfolk, Va.: “Like Booker
Washington, the author's work will do much to allay the
irritation between the races and promote the growth of a
better sentiment in our Southland.”





CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I. PAGE
A Chance Meeting......................... • • - - - - - - - - - - 7
CHAPTER II.
A Church Scene. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ................. 18
CHAPTER III.
The Town of H—... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ................... 81
CHAPTER IV.
Toussaint Visits Merna... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . • • • - e - - - - - - - - 25
CHAPTER V.
Merna and Her Uncle. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . • • - - - - - - - - - - - 33
CHAPTER VI.
A Lawn Party......................... • * * * * * * * - © - - - - - - - 38
CHAPTER VII.
Van Courtney and Clarissa................ • • • - - - - - - - - - - . 46
CHAPTER VIII.
Toussaint would Follow where Merna Leads.............. 55
CHAPTER IX. -
A Picnic, Followed by a Storm................... • - - - - - - 65
CHAPTER X.
At the Parsonage................. • • • • • • • • • • * * * * * * * * * - - - 76
CHAPTER XI.
An Outing Experience.................................. 83


Vl CONTENTS.
CHAPTER XII. PAGE
The Southern Industrial Institute—Vacation.......... ... 92
CHAPTER XIII.
Sowing the Wind. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ........... 108
CHAPTER XIV.
The Wages of Sin............................... - - - - - - - - 111
CHAPTER XV.
The Queen of Society................................... 127
- CHAPTER XVI.
Literary Life at the Capital... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . - - - - - - 134
CHAPTER XVII.
Politics in the South. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ......... 147
CHAPTER XVIII.
A Message from Africa. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ............... 162
CHAPTER XIX.
The Black Republic. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ............. 167
CHAPTER XX.
Jack Dempsey–Thereby Hangs a Tale............. • - - - - - 174
CHAPTER XXI.
Race Problems.................................... • - - - - - 186
CHAPTER XXII.
“What's Freedom without Sumpin' wid It?” ............ 202
CHAPTER XXIII.
Four Years Later.......... © - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - ......... 212
CHAPTER XXIV.
Order Out of Confusion. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ......... 216


8 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
An instant gazing about for the object of that
name, the next he was profoundly surprised to have
his eyes meet those of a charming girl of tender
years. Toussaint raising his hat, bowed gra-
ciously, in anticipation of a speech which the young
girl's lips were then framing. To her question as
to whether he had seen a dog—a greyhound, in the
last few minutes, Toussaint replied that he had
noticed a dog in pursuit of a squirrel.
He had, however, scarcely made answer, when
Seba came rushing through the wood, and in an in-
stant more was crouched at his mistress' feet, pant-
ing breathlessly. The girl caressed the animal, who,
in turn, frisked about under her gentle treatment.
Toussaint, meanwhile, toyed somewhat abstractedly
with his watch-guard, and then the fair stranger
in turning smilingly said “Good-day, sir,” and
hastened away, leaving him to his thoughts.
“A creature divinely fair,” he mused. “Who is
she, and what brings her to this place?” Toussaint
was altogether too busied with these questions to
hurry homeward. He trudged slowly along, now
and then observing the lengthening shadows as they
lay athwart his path. The golden orb of day was
passing from sight in the western horizon. There
were already visible tiny, fleecy cloudlets, making
their way over and around it, which promised to
divest the closing hour of this lovely June day of
its charming afterglow and mellow twilight.


JNEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 9
Within half an hour, walking at a brisk pace,
Merna had gained the principal thoroughfare of the
town of H , and some minutes later, Mrs. Mar-
garet Lockley, who had been waiting and watching
eagerly at the door of her home, was affectionately
recounting to her niece the anxiety she had felt,
occasioned by her tardy return.
“Merna, explain at once,” she gently chided, “for
I had expected your return much earlier.”
It was now Merna’s turn to explain. She began:
“Oh, I have had a delightful stroll—only a trifle
more than a mile beyond the confines of the town.
Presently I came to a woody path leading through a
lovely copse, and beyond this I could see the deep
wood. I was charmed with the scenery of this
sunny land—the trees—the flowers—the birds—all.
And Seba, too, was delighted, until after a time
something attracted the dog and he ran away furi-
ously. I called him repeatedly, and for the first
time he gave no heed to my voice. He had been a
most obedient dog.”
Noting the intense, not to say painful, earnestness
of Merna, Mrs. Lockley observed: “What was he
after P”
“A gentleman whom I chanced to meet told me he
had gone in chase of a squirrel. It was very kind of
the stranger to have offered his services to search
for Seba.”
Mrs. Lockley then asked Merna to describe the


10 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
stranger. The girl made no answer, but betraying
some mental preoccupation, added, “I did not think
that my Seba could torture any living creature. The
poor squirrel. I wonder if it was harmed. Seba
seems to have parted with his gentle habits.”
“There is nothing unusual in a dog's chasing a
squirrel, or, as to that matter, eating one,” stoically
replied her aunt.
“But Seba has always been such a good, kind and
playful dog—as gentle as you please,” continued
Merna.
“Dogs are much like some people; they are apt to
follow their natures regardless of their training and
previous habits. But you have not yet told me of
the stranger, Merna.”
“I really did not observe him sufficiently to be
able to describe him in the least. What I remember
is that his address was most deferential,” said
Merna.
The aunt was not to be dismissed in the premises
in this manner. She felt a little curious to know,
that was all, how such a trite experience as a dog
pursuing a squirrel could absorb any mind to the
exclusion of a human being, and especially since
there was the novelty, if you are pleased so to re-
gard it, of seeing a man of genteel appearance and
charming manners; yet, so far as she knew, possess-
ing only a name, and having no local habitation.
“It must have been Mr. Ripley that you saw—


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 11
Toussaint Ripley. He is a teacher in the country,
but boards in the town. And a very nice young
man is he,” observed Aunt Margaret.
At that moment there entered the sitting-room
Mr. John Lockley, the husband of Mrs. Lockley.
His greeting of Merna interrupted the narrative of
Aunt Margaret. After a brief rehearsal of the in-
cidents of the day for the benefit of Mr. Lockley and
to the delight of Mrs. Lockley, Merna retired in
peace and earlier than usual, to reflect on the safe
return of Seba, and the peril of the squirrel. Soon
thereafter Mr. and Mrs. Lockley betook themselves
to slumber, and all was hushed within their home.
These two were good souls, fair specimens of the
survival of the fittest. They had met and wooed
each other under that “peculiar institution,” now
happily passed away. They had sustained a varied
experience which had at least taught them the golden
lesson of contentment with their present lot. To
them every morning was an invocation, every even-
ing a benediction, and their lives one sweet refrain.
They found themselves, at the termination of the
war, under new conditions, and having no capital,
save that which energy could arouse in physical
natures much impaired. But they put their heads
together, and builded for themselves a snug but
plain home, having the comforts compatible with
their necessities. The husband, hard by the family
residence, conducted a notion store which was a


12 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
most formidable rival for any similar establishment
of that town. Of a family of five children—three
of whom were daughters, all were grown, married
and prospering.
The truth is that “Uncle John” and “Aunt Mar-
garet,” by which appellations they were most fa-
miliarly known to the older inhabitants, had an
abiding faith in one another, and they religiously
believed that in the world about them all things
worked together for good.


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 13
CHAPTER II.
A CHURCH SCENE.
DURING the summer of which I write, religious
fervor ran high among certain inhabitants through-
out the town of H , and its environs. Not that
there was anything remarkably noteworthy in the
zeal of these people—earnestly professing to be fol-
lowers of the meek and lowly One.
They were already enthusiasts by nature, and
religious zealots by tradition, and their zeal, it
seemed, was kindled anew by contact with the
water. The large majority of them were of the
water-loving type, and it seemed to soothe and sus-
tain their faith. There was water, too, in abun-
dance—the town being well nigh surrounded by it.
And while I should hesitate to say that the water
was an incentive to the propagation of a certain re-
ligious tenet, it was nevertheless highly conducive
to the growth of the Baptist Church—and these
churches were many. The Methodists were next
in number, and if the Baptist propagandist inter-
*


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 15
part of the church membership lay outside of the
town limit. There were many horses and mules
attached to two-wheeled vehicles, usually known
as carts, and used for heavy traffic, and there was
a fair sprinkling of those horny headed animals,
hooked up to some rude attraction less dignified
in construction than the cart. The more pretentious
came in buggies, to which were harnessed mules
and horses—among the latter were some spirited
animals, others lean and discouraged, to whom life
seemed indeed a burden.
It was the fourth Sunday in June, and this day,
every month, was observed as Sacrament Day—
always attracting large congregations. This occa-
sion, so soul inspiring and so solemn in its sugges-
tiveness, had varied aspects for the communicants.
To some it was significant in its appeal to their sense
of the grave responsibility; to others, the emotions
easily triumphed over their supersensitive natures,
still others there were, responsive in no sense to its
proper observance. These last were, indeed, callous
CreatureS.
The hour for services had arrived and the minis-
ter, the Rev. Asa P. Burleigh, a swarthy and capon
fed individual of generous proportions, ascended the
rostrum. While the preliminary exercises were in
progress, a woman in an audible voice, was heard to
remark to a sister at her elbow: “Say, Swepsy,
you ain't goin' to take sacr’ment?”


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 1?
with yellow figures. In the right hand she firmly
held her gloves, made of some cotton fabric.
It was a sultry day, there was little air astir with-
out, and it was oppressive within, for ventilation
here was at a discount.
Van Courtney caused a dozen or more pairs of
eyes to turn involuntarily in the direction of his
searching gaze, and it was then that Swepsy, filled
with just indignation for the jester, defied him.
She seemed to lose all sense of shame, all con-
sciousness of the hallowed place—all sense of the
presence of Rev. Burleigh, who, with measured
voice, had just announced his text as “I. Corin-
thians, III. Chapter, first verse.” There was a
something indefinable—yet unmistakably sav-
age in the look which the old woman gave Van
Courtney. The ebony hue of this creature was set
out in all its duskiness. The lips were livid, and
the eyes glowed with intensity and redness strange
and unusual.
Her teeth clenched, and this signalized the hatred
she felt for the stranger.
“Look at that yaller dog,” she muttered, half
to herself and half to her companion. “God forgive
me, never min, I’ll get even with him.”
Van Courtney did not hear, but he saw all, yet
he was not in the least disturbed. In truth, little
disturbed this man, sleeping or waking. His
whole life had been one day dream—one flowery


18 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
dream. He felt supreme contempt for all of con-
science. With him human frailty was a folly not
to be condoned, and the forum of conscience was a
tribunal for fools.
And yet, at times, he cowed before his con-
science with a certain feeling of dread; it was his
Nemesis, and since he could not reconcile his con-
duct to it he longed for its annihilation. He thought
it strange, too, that he could not escape the dis-
tinct memory of these words—a soliloquy—irresis-
tible and impelling:
“My conscience hath a thousand several tongues,
And every tongue brings in a several tale,
And every tale condemns me for a villain.”
Van Courtney was also vain of his person, and
brooked no rival for social honors. In others he
saw much to envy—little to emulate. He was, in
a word, a law unto himself.
There he sat engrossed in self love. In another
part of the house was Merna Attaway, in the com-
pany of Mr. and Mrs. John Lockley. They were
deeply interested in all that the minister uttered, and
in nothing more than these words: “We are laborers
with God. The greatest honor God ever puts upon
a man in this life is to give him a part of the work
He is doing. It is a great honor to be taken into
co-partnership with Him in the evangelization of


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 19
the world. In some part of the work, He worked
alone—in the great work of the creation—before
cause was necessary to effect. In this God worked
alone. He spoke and it was done. He commanded
and it stood fast—all this at the fiat of God. No
man came to save man, but God came down to the
world to save man. He died for him. In this
great work of redemption, he had no fellow. He
trod the wine press alone.
>k >k >k >k >k >k :k
“What is it to be a co-laborer with God? We
must do His work—work in the same way. We
must do nothing that will interfere with the spread
of the gospel. Some men devote much time to the
getting of money in this world. This is not His
work in the world. To do God’s work is not to do
the work most conducive to a good name—to for-
tune—to fame. He who would not forsake father
and mother and lands and everything is not worthy
to follow Me.”
The sermon was singularly impressive through-
out, and the pathetic reference to the Last Supper
was followed by the administration of that sacred
ordinance.
After the services were concluded Merna and her
company lingered for greetings with the minister
and other friends. Toussaint pressed forward, os-
tensibly to fraternize with the pastor, but he had
glimpsed Merna before she left her seat. It pleased
*** *


20 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
Mrs. Lockley to present Toussaint to her, and in
turn he introduced his friend Van Courtney to the
Lockleys, and to Merna. The gentlemen, of course,
were cordially invited to visit Miss Attaway, and
Toussaint especially, seemed highly grateful for
the favor.


22 NEITHER BOND MOR I'REE.
the great ships of the American navy. And these,
forsooth, are but playthings on the crest of the
WaVeS.
But once upon a time—and the memory of man
runneth to the same—this watery main was the
scene of a conflict involving not only the supremacy
of the sea, but as well the rights of men. This ret-
rospect, however, cannot fascinate the memory, for
it contains some startling hints of the cannonade.
The delightful prospect is far more refreshing, and
to the hearts of the good and the brave there comes
a feeling akin to ecstacy when they contemplate,
that “Peace hath her victories no less renowned
than war.”
Ah, I, too, am drifting far to sea. I must return.
In easy distance of the town limit, is a point of
land jutting into the sea. This is indeed a point
of comfort. Here you will find a grim old fortifica-
tion, which has long since survived its usefulness
as an impregnable defence in time of war. Within
its parapet, however, the visitor sees something of
the “pride, pomp and circumstance of glorious war,”
since the fort is now used as a military training
school for the West Point fledgling.
From the far North and South fair maidens and
gallant manhood linger near the shore for health-
giving ozone, or for recreation for which the
place is justly famed. And when on pleasure bent
contact with military life sans souci imparts a pe-


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 23
culiar charm to the senses and this from reveille to
the hour of taps.
It were strange indeed if the little hamlet of
H was not aroused from its serene composure,
and especially at this season, when, close at hand,
hundreds of pleasure seekers daily file in and out,
despoiling the quiet of this haunt with their hilarity
and good cheer.
It is now nearly two hundred years since the town
was incorporated. The red man, however, with
his squatter right of sovereignty, had wooed his
dusky mate, in the village of Kekouchtan, founded
on this same site, years before the coming of the
white man. It was near this place that the pioneer
came in quest of liberty, and near here came the
negro as a captive. But all this is changed now.
A great institution to-day flourishes on this spot.
It rears its proud head, a mute but exquisite re-
minder of the amazing audacity of the one race,
and the thrilling experience of the other. And within
these walls the descendants of the captives sit at the
feet of the descendants of the pioneers and learn
the lessons of life. The growth of the town has of
necessity been hindered, for more than once have
internecine struggles devastated the place. In the
corporate limits there are now about five thousand
persons, the major part whites; and without the
town, in the county, there are three times that num-
ber, of whom a majority are colored. There


24 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
is no acrimony between the races engendered by the
memory of former conditions. The “Mammy” of
the olden time continues to nurse the little “Missis”
and little “Marsa” of ante bellum days, and the
young ex-slave attends the public school which is
in a large measure sustained by the taxes paid by
the ex-master. The one-room and windowless cabin
has long since disappeared—even from the rural dis-
tricts. The bug-a-boo of negro domination and
social equality has long since ceased to frighten
his white neighbor, and lure him on like an ignis
fatuus to deeds of violence. Everywhere peace and
quiet seem to abide.
And yet this by no means suggests contentment.
It must be obvious to all that there is a certain grow-
ing restlessness among the darker mass born of
enlightened ideas. They are discovering, one after
another, that justice is not blind, but—cross-eyed;
that civil rights and social rights are wantonly and
mischievously perverted, and the truth that “a man's
a man for a that” is more honored in the breach
than the observance.
The blacks are mainly toilers of the sea. The
waters ebb and flow with bivalves, crustacea and the
finny tribe, and so long as these remain, let them be
an augury of the amity of the races.


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 25
CHAPTER IV.
TOUSSAINT VISITS MERNA.
ALL the public schools in this section of the State
had closed, and with the closing of District School
No. 7, the arduous duties of Toussaint Ripley were
at an end for the session. The school term in the
country was of short duration—five months. It
was not unusual for teachers to be employed two
terms in a single calendar year. Toussaint had been
thus engaged.
It was three days since the time Toussaint was
presented to Merna, when he courageously wended
his way to the home of the Lockleys. I say cour-
ageously advisedly, for in affairs of this sort his
ardent feelings were restrained by diffidence.
When he arrived at the home of the Lockleys,
contrary to expectation (for he had meditated a
different progrom), he saw Merna Attaway partly
concealed from view by a bower of jasmine and
honeysuckle which twined themselves securely about


26 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
the angles of the broad veranda excluding the sun's
rays and making fragrant the air about them.
“Walk in, Mr. Ripley,” said Merna as Toussaint
advanced to the gate.
“I am indeed grateful for the invitation,” he re-
plied with some constraint. He saw that Merna
was not alone, for by her side sat a bright little boy
who was intently gazing up in her lustrous eyes.
From the animated look of the child, he was de-
lighted with his reception. Seba lay at his mistress's
feet, dozing as best he could, for the flies one after
another would alight on his drooping lids much to
his worriment.
“This is Master Bernice, the son of Mr. Burleigh.
He is my constant companion,” said Merna.
“It is pleasant to know that you are not lacking
for company,” remarked Toussaint.
“I am never wholly without company, Seba is al-
ways with me. He has only played the truant once,
and that was on the eventful day when I first saw
you.”
“I shall not soon forget that day. It was a revela-
tion to me,” observed Toussaint.
He had discovered by her earnest utterance that
the brute was the central figure in her mental picture,
and he a mere incident. If he could not eliminate
this figure he would at least, he mused, make this the
incident, and himself the central figure. His speech
seemed direct enough, and yet it missed the mark,


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 27
Merna gazed tenderly at the child by her side,
then somewhat inquiringly in the direction of the
speaker.
Bernice was restless—this was a sort of interlude
to him. He arose, put his arms about Merna's neck,
kissed her, and then ran homeward.
She evidently did not divine this last speech of
Toussaint's.
Surely it was direct, altogether too direct for her
artless nature.
She gave Toussaint credit for sincerity of utter-
ance, but not for impulsiveness. She was of a dif-
ferent mould and built on a splendid plane. She was
an altruistic model. Toussaint Ripley, on the con-
trary, although imbued with lofty ideals, lacked the
divine impulsion. He was of the self assertive
mould, and this quality often impelled him beyond
laudable ends. He was far too impulsive for con-
stant introspective study. He knew other men bet-
ter than himself, and it was there he found his realm.
He was unlike Merna, and yet he was not an ego-
tist, in the vulgar sense of the word. He was rather
a glorified egotist, for he was from time to time
making explorations in the half discovered realm
of self. And this not through complaint nor for
self applause, but with the true student's instinct of
research.
Toussaint's sensitive nature recoiled; he felt that
Merna had repulsed him. He had lost his cue and


28 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
realized that he must needs begin again. This time
he inquired solicitously as to the health of Mr. and
Mrs. Lockley, and he expressed the wish that Mer-
na's stay in this place would be highly agreeable.
“I am delighted with this visit to the South,”
“Then you know something of the fair South?”
she said. “You may not know that I am a native of
this section. My father was born in this place, and
lived here during his whole life. When he died I
was but three years old, and was taken by my mother
to Boston, where we have since resided with my
uncle, Ralph Attaway.”
“I know little about the South save the harrow-
ing recitals of my mother, together with what I have
read in books and papers. In all the past fifteen
years my mother could not be induced to make a
visit to this spot. And yet she has always re-
garded it as a religious duty to make a pilgrimage
here at some time, in order the better to perpet-
uate some green spot of old associations in her
memory. I suppose I am here as a hostage,” said
Merna.
“Yes,” observed Toussaint, “a hostage to for-
tune.”
“You are a teacher, I believe; I hope you like
your work,” inquired Merna. -
“I am a teacher, but have ceased for the session
to teach the young idea how to shoot.”
“Ah, it is your vacation, then,” said the girl.


NFITHER BOND NOR FREE. 29
“It must be a source of both constant anxiety and
encouragement to be engaged at such a noble post
of duty.”
“Yet, it is wearisome work, withal,” he re-
plied.
“We should not, I take it, feel weary in well
doing. That man does much for his country,
much for his home, much for his God, who spends
his time guiding the footsteps of the young,” said
Merna.
“But facilities for teaching are so poor in the
South, and desired results are difficult of attain-
ment. I could do very much more for my peo-
ple if I had a broader field in which to operate,”
he went on.
“Of course, your task might be easier, and
your mind contented once in possession of every
facility and convenience for work. But suppose you
were to leave your present post, would you not
shirk a great responsibility? Remember that some-
body must perform the work What we need for
every duty is consecration. We must go forth as
empty and broken vessels fitted for the Master's
use. We must go forth, neither seeking nor avoid-
ing broad fields nor dungeons, actuated only by con-
scientious convictions of duty and a spirit of self-
abnegation, and then, Mr. Ripley, leave results to
take care of themselves.”
“I do not wish to shirk any responsibility, and I


30 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
wish to be able to do the largest measure of good
for a struggling race. I was only thinking that
my qualifications fitted me for more advanced
work.”
“Do you not think that conspicuous would more
appropriately convey your meaning? There are
no degrees in righteous works, and there should
be no distinction made. You might command a
larger following elsewhere, but I am sure you
could not have a more advanced work of usefulness
than your present employment. You will doubtless
recall little Lillo, a character in one of George
Eliot's works. I think it is **
“Romola,” interrupted Toussaint.
“Yes, Romola,” said Merna. “Well, Lillo with
some of the hereditary instinct I think, expressed
the wish to become a great man, and win great
plaudits and pleasures. There is no thought so
beautiful and ennobling in the book as the foster
mother's reply: ‘That is not easy, my Lillo, my
father had the greatness that belongs to integrity,
to character, the greatness that belongs to a life
spent in struggling against powerful wrong and
trying to lift men up to the highest deeds of which
they are capable.’”
“I guess there was already aglow in little Lillo’s
breast the spark of some illustrious political career
for which he was destined,” thoughtfully uttered
Toussaint.


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 31
“There is much work for the reformer to do
along that line, but he must not avoid the work
of the dungeon for the broad field of politics. This
is not self-abnegation,” repeated Merna.
Toussaint was clearly out of his element. And
yet his ideals were as pure as hers—the difference
was he had not lifted himself upon a plane with
them. If at times he had evil impulses, he did not,
however, mean to be a teacher of evil. He was too
charitable, and, according to his ideas of inno-
cence, too innocent for that. One cannot but feel
compassion for a creature who had had little ex-
perience with good for the sake of good, who shrank
from imparting to another a teaching which might
lead to his ruin, who was fond of alleviating suffer-
ing, who was endowed with genius, and yet whose
religion and morality were held in captivity by his
inordinate pride and ambition.
Toussaint had made a discovery, a very valuable
one he reckoned—to enlist the interest of Merna
for himself. He had discovered her charitableness
—her instinct for humanity.
He had a strong liking for politics, and gave evi-
dence of some adroitness in the same. It was a
clever ruse to play upon Merna's sympathies by
speaking of political conditions. She became a fas-
cinated listener while Toussaint in glowing terms
depicted the trials of his people—their insecurity
of civil protection—their educational disadvan-


32 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
tages, all brought about by the deprivation of the
rights of the majority party; the Republicans in gen-
eral, and the negro in particular. He had made
several campaign speeches at various points in his
county, and was fast achieving distinction as a
leading “spell binder” in the county of E •
A persuasive voice with intense earnestness and
force of utterance carries everything before it. The
captivating eloquence of Toussaint's speech sub-
dued for a time her spirited temperament and en-
tranced the finer feelings of her nature.
Toussaint knew that he had not only played upon
her emotions, but had gratified her intelligence as
well. And he left with the pleasurable thought that
he could henceforth proclaim an open sesame to the
citadel of her love.


* NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 33
CHAPTER V.
MERNA AND HER UNCLE.
MERNA ATTAWAY was not remarkable for beauty
of feature or form. She was not created a model
for the gods, nor was she so fairy-like that a ray
of sun would have spoiled her beauty. You would,
however, have remarked the simplicity of her ap-
pearance in the midst of a thousand.
Merna was fair of face and form, and possessed
vivacity tempered with exquisite refinement. Her
gracefully poised head was set off to advantage with
a luxuriant growth of black hair which gave a pleas-
ing contrast to her dark Spanish complexion. Her
full black eyes highly suffused with their soul stir-
ring energy seemed singularly contradictory to
her apparent timidity and reserve. To these pos-
sessions must be added the captivating charm of a
clinging, loving nature, reinforced by such orna-
mentations as a winsome smile and a musical voice.
Little wonder that such a girl was the idol of her
uncle, and fondly remembered by all who knew
her. -


34 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. *
The most that can be said of her parents is that
they were honest, poor and industrious. I have al-
ready remarked that Merna was taken to Boston
by her mother when she was but three years old.
It was a God-send to the child to have found as her
protector Ralph Attaway. She could claim nothing
by heredity. She was henceforth to be moulded for
good or evil by the unyielding forces which we call
environment. To the advantages of a New Eng-
land education was added the powerful stimulus
for effort which contact with superior or experi-
enced minds necessarily brings. She imbibed her
tastes and tendencies from her surroundings, and
forms and aspects took on such colorings as were
within her horizon.
Mr. Attaway was by no means a nonentity. His
was an interesting personality and allied thereto was
an interesting history. He had been a conspicuous
figure in that extensive organization known as the
“underground railroad;” this was about the time
when the independence of the Republic of Liberia
had been acknowledged by America and the Eu-
ropean powers. Ralph Attaway had gone to Li-
beria as a sort of sub-agent in charge of a band of
emigrants. He had an active and fertile mind. He
had early learned to read and write, and kept at it
until he was a real self-made man—whatever this
may signify. He was quite active in the politics of
the Republic early in the fifties, and was an intimate


MEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 35
friend of Joseph J. Roberts, governor and after-
wards president of Liberia. But politics had only
an ephemeral fascination for him. His attention
had been attracted to the advantages of the coun-
try respecting the production and exportation of
coffee and palm oil. He was persuaded that Afri-
can coffee could secure a large sale in the United
States, already a great consumer of this article.
This country was at the time the undisputed market
for the Brazilian product, a somewhat inferior ar-
ticle of trade. He reckoned that African coffee, of
which there was such a prolific yield in the western
part of the country, would prove a formidable rival
for the Brazilian staple, and especially among con-
noisseurs.
An unsuccessful effort was made by him and his
friends to enlist the co-operation of capitalists both
in this country and in England, but for some cause
the project never became a serious venture. Ralph
Attaway was not easily discouraged. If a big
scheme would not fructify, he believed there was
virtue in a little one. And thus he set himself to
work at Monrovia, cultivating the coffee berry, and
when three years thereafter he had secured a fair
yield, he felt encouraged, garnered the harvest and
sailed for America, leaving his little farm in good
hands.
This venture was a doubtful experiment, but his
patience was amply rewarded. The colonization so-
**


36 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
ciety had been the means of bringing Ralph in con-
tact with some influential and wealthy people.
This served him as the means to an early and favor-
able introduction of the African coffee in the homes
of several wealthy Bostonians. There were many
adulterations of foreign coffee on the market, and
Brazil, in chief, was spoiling the enviable reputa-
tion of the Arabian berry with her arrogant pre-
tensions of growing the mocha seed.
It proved a genuine and well timed enterprise to
Ralph Attaway to establish a little “coffee shop,” as
he called it, in a prominent thoroughfare of Boston.
The place it is true was very small, but it was well
stocked with Liberian coffee and palm oil.
Orders came thick and fast to Ralph in his humble
quarters. His coffee was gradually distributed be-
yond the confines of the city of Boston, and the re-
turns the meanwhile were so gratifying as to broad-
en the little merchant's smile.
Two years later there was a large consignment of
the product from the five years' growth of the coffee
tree, to Mr. Ralph Attaway at Boston. This in-
creased supply was met by an increased demand.
And thus his business progressed while his farm
yielded without labor the precious bean.
Ralph was a level-headed man; he essayed no
style and did not grow pompous, but carefully in-
vested his earnings in suburban realty and kept his
own counsel. His palm oil sale was small. Ralph


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 37
insisted that the oil held out inducements equal to
that of his coffee venture, yet his predictions favored
from the first the latter business.
Many years have passed since some sign painter,
not over dextrous in his art, had traced in plain,
bold, black letters, over the door of the coffee shop,
the name RALPH ATTAWAY—nothing more.
And these letters had from time to time been re-
touched as they became obscure by the encroach-
ments of years, until to-day the curious are enabled
to point out the room in which Ralph so successfully
operated until recently. The old house is now be-
ing used as a cheap lodging place for laboring peo-
ple.
Ralph continues to cherish the hope that in a
day not far distant, direct commercial intercourse
will be had with the Republic of Liberia and this
country, and thus a less circuitous route will cheap-
en the cost of shipment of coffee to America. It
is now his fondest wish to see an ocean greyhound
laden with the best products of Africa steering into
the ports of this country.


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 39
Edward Strother, a young man known to good
works, was present. He possessed the distinction
of being assistant superintendent of the Sunday
school of this church. He was much in love with
the work. He swung the big hammer on the anvil
in a blacksmith shop six days in every week, and
on the seventh he rested. He was not, however,
like Elihu Burritt—a learned blacksmith; but he
was, nevertheless, studious, frank and manly.
The minister engaged the attention of Strother,
concerning some of the minor details of the enter-
tainment, when there approached him a pretty girl
with demure and dainty face and a pair of dewy
surprised eyes under a big bobbin hat brim. A
sweep of lashes gently shading the cheeks made her
cutaway coat of scarlet velvet, and trained skirt of
cardinal cloth a delight. This was a season of
gaudy colors and grotesque shapes in dress, and
happy was Ethel Gay.
Ethel had only been in the place a single week,
but she had made many acquaintances. Mr. Burleigh
presented Strother to Ethel. They chatted to-
gether for several minutes—at least, Ethel did,—
Strother proved himself by far the better listener of
the two. She told him that she was a Washington-
ian, and learning that he had never visited that city.
explained some of the beauties thereof.
Later on Mr. Burleigh inquired of her how she
was impressed with his young friend.


40 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
The girl replied, “He seems obsequious. He's
like an over-grown boy. I think he belongs with
his mother.”
At this reflection, told with a ripple of merriment,
the kindly disposed minister smiled encouragingly.
As the evening advanced the party grew lively.
Charles Van Courtney had arrived. He made his
way to Ethel.
“Ah, there, Ethel !”
“How are you, dear boy?” retorted the girl.
“I have just learned that you have gone into new
biz.”
“What do you say, Charley?”
“I say that you have embarked in the black-
smithy enterprise,” responded Van Courtney.
At this stricture Ethel laughed outright.
“And do you laugh at me, thereby adding insult
to injury. Your cruelty breaks my heart and my
eyes run over.”
“Well, cork your eyebrows,” said the girl.
At this attempt to be witty, the girl who some-
times looked demure, giggled, and Van Courtney
arose and conducted her to a table near by laden
with good things which were spread for sale. As
they seated themeselves, he exclaimed:
“Ah, this is nice.”
“What is nice?” she inquired.
“Why, you.”
She blushed and said, “Yes, I know.”


42 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
this he fired a charge consisting of one pound of
gun powder, without the cannon sustaining the
slightest injury, and remember the metal of the
barrel was only a quarter of an inch thick.”
“Well, let us hasten to join the great inventor,”
exclaimed Ethel.
When Ethel and Mr. Burleigh reached the party,
Merna was commenting on a newspaper article of
the drowning of several women in six feet depth
of water, simply because they became needlessly
frightened and went into hysterics. Out of defer-
ence to the new arrivals, she attempted to change
the conversation. They all, however, urged that
she continue the recital.
“This is a melancholy illustration,” she went on,
“of the emotional nature of our sex. We have
little self-control. We have an abnormal emo-
tional temperament. The insane asylums are
to-day crowded with our women who have
gone mad over love or religion. Disgust-
ing love songs, sentimental stories from the
story papers and sloppy novels feed the emotions,
and extraordinary crimes, self-inflicted or inflicted
on others, are the natural results. I believe that
woman has a higher moral and spiritual nature than
man—given to her for the uplifting and purifying
of the race, but with us it is being choked off by
this emotional temperament fed by the trash I have
named. Her mistakes are largely traceable to this


44 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
course, confined to the intelligent voter of the North.
This is, indeed, a mild picture by the side of the
untutored black and white voter of the South.
Here you see whole communities of individuals
seized with an epidemic, the outgrowth of political
strife, and when you consider the ignorance and
emotional natures of the Afro-Americans, it is a sad
plight. The chronic office seeker and professional
politician exclaim with one breath that they are try-
ing to lift the race. But I say God save the mark.
The right of suffrage is a good thing, but every-
thing depends upon its right use. The masses are
so ignorant.”
“Yes, and no one knows this better than our false
leaders,” interrupted Strother, who had all along
been an eager listener.
“But how are we to improve our condition,” ob-
served Toussaint.
“Certainly not in rushing over the precipice like
a flock of sheep, lured on by these black leaders and
white bosses,—republicans for spoils only. Men
who love office better than country are not fit per-
sons to rule. Place good men to the front, regard-
less of race. It should not be a question of the
color of a man’s skin, but rather the purity of his
soul,” remarked Strother.
“But what avail is it to have good leaders in the
South when the negro cannot have his ballot counted


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 45
and returned as cast? His ballot is only a delusion
and a snare,” said Toussaint.
“It is better just now to be qualified for voting
than to vote. There is, besides, a better day dawn-
ing in the South. Things are now changing. The
power so long wrested from the majority by fraud
and violence will soon be rightfully restored for the
good of all,” observed Strother.
“I quite agree with you,” said Toussaint, “there
are already visible signs that the usurpation scheme
has turned to plague the inventor. White men are
now nullifying the votes of white men, and this
state of affairs signifies the beginning of the end.”
While this colloquy was in progress, Ethel and
the Rev. Burleigh were actually conducting an-
other, and a different one.
“I feel as if I had always known you,” he said
in a subdued tone.
“Well, and what of it?”
“Because I think the world of you.”
“Are you really sure you do?”
And the minister making no reply, rested his eyes
for a moment on those coquettish and beseeching
ones surmounted by the broad brow, and then on
that short curling upper lip, and the next on Merna,
and then there was a lull and he was sure some-
body had heard his speech.


46 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
CHAPTER VII.
VAN COURTNEY AND CLARISSA.
VAN CourTNEY did not see Ethel and her com-
pany “later on,” the evening of the lawn party when
he had left her so abruptly, but made his way di-
rectly to the home of Rev. Burleigh. There he
saw Clarissa, the daughter of the clergyman. This
course was not premeditated by Van Courtney, it
was hatched in an instant. He had unceremonious-
ly made the acquaintance of this girl, and had culti-
vated the same with assiduous care, in season and
out of season.
Lawn parties where staid church folk, and pro-
saic people in general were wont to gather, were not
to his liking, but then Ethel and Merna would be
there. Merna’s face was fascinating enough, but
there was to him something positively repelling in
her conversation. Once in speaking of her to Tous-
saint he had referred to her as having a “catchy


MEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 4?
face; but she is not bright, sparkling and imagina-
tive in her talk like Ethel.”
And thus it seemed he was pleased to be away
from such a scene.
In a quiet little street only a few minutes walk
from the church, the minister and his family kept
house. Besides Clarissa, a young girl just budding
into womanhood, there were little Bernice, a de-
formed child of seven years, and his mother, Mrs.
Martha A. Burleigh. There were no discords in
this home. Here the utmost freedom prevailed.
Indeed freedom and license seemed interchangeable
words, and the limitation of the former was often the
opportunity for the latter. At least, this was the
governing principle—or rather the absence of it—-
which characterized the conduct of the head of the
household—a man of generous impulses and sym-
pathetic nature.
Mrs. Burleigh was an unassuming, plain and
good woman. She regarded it as her religious duty
to wear the world as a “loose garment,” which being
interpreted by her conduct, was that her only mis-
sion was to go from house to house doing good,
trying to cheer the disconsolate. It never occurred
to her that charity should begin at home. She was
a gentle creature of slender physique and complained
of many physical infirmities, but she was constantly
“on the go.”
Clarissa kept house, -at least, this she was sup-


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 49
“Oh, nonsense,” sneered the girl.
“Yes he is, we all overheard him, actually making
love to her.”
“Not so loud, Charley,–mama will certainly hear
you.”
“It is none of my affair. Let the old fellow jog
along. Ethel's having lots of fun at his expense,
and we too are enjoying ourselves; for while the
rats are away the mice will play.”
“You mustn't talk like that; pa’s no rat, and, be-
sides, Bernice is listening to you.”
“I’ve just given the little fellow some money,
and he will keep all secrets. The poor child
ought to have been in bed hours ago,” said Van
Courtney.
“Well, you always see him up with me, and this
is because papa is usually out evenings and mama
is tired after tramping all around to see the sick,
and attending society meetings, and retires very
early, and so Bernice keeps me company.”
“Well, I'm your company now.”
“Yes, I see you are my only companion for Ber-
nice is fast asleep.”
And surely he seemed to be in a profound slum-
ber stowed away in the big old-fashioned arm-chair.
“Why did you not come earlier, Charley?”
“I expected to see you at the grounds, and so went
directly there.” -
“With Ethel, I presume.”


50 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
“No, I don't tie to her any more.”
“Since when?” she asked.
“Since you promised to be solely mine.”
“Yes, this is all well enough for you to tell me,
but Ethel says that you and she are engaged, and
have been for years.”
“Oh, don't mind that giddy girl. We have never
been more than friends. Did Ethel really tell you
that?”
“No, she told papa and he told me.”
“Oh, I see, that was only for a bluff.”
“Well, let me ask, did not you two go together
in Washington for some two or three years?”
“Yes, but that does not signify.”
“Anyhow, she tells people around here that you
are her prospective 5 *
“What?” interrupted Van Courtney.
“You well understand me. Why, her husband,
of course.”
“Well, my dear, let us talk of something else,”
said he, drawing his chair nearer to her. “You
know that I am pledged to you. I can only love
one being at a time. I love you and only you.”
He raised her head, taking it in both hands, and
pressed a kiss to her lips.
“Soon we will be one and inseparable. We'll live
in that beautiful city of magnificent distances, and
then Ethel will cease to link my name with hers.”
“Let us not talk of her,” she said petulantly. “I


MEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 51
believe all that you tell me, only I'm a little foolish
at times. Why should I doubt you and your words.
You are all, and in all to me.”
“Now, you show yourself to be a sensible little
body—a fit companion for a man of my ambition.
If you will only trust me, and cling to me you’ll
never be bothered by silly things which people may
say to arouse your jealousy.”
“You are so good and amiable that no one could
help loving you, Charley.”
“No, you mistake me; I am not good.”
“Yes, you are good to me, and that is all I care
about. And papa likes you, too. He thinks you
are so jolly.”
“Yes, I think he should like me.”
“Why?” asked Clarissa.
“Because he supposes Ethel is my girl, and he
wants to get a cinch on her.”
“And you want to get his girl,” retorted Clar-
issa.
“Yes, you are his daughter, and my girl, and
Ethel is the daughter of her mama and anybody’s
girl.”
“I don’t understand your last reference.”
“I mean simply that Ethel is a flirt and a daring
one. She never had a serious intention.”
- “Well, I suppose you know whereof you affirm.”
“I know her all too well.”


52 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
“Well, we won't say anything more about Ethel.
Is it agreed?”
“I agree to anything you may propose, except
one thing.”
“And what is that, pray?”
“You have said that you wouldn’t join me in
Washington until next summer. I do not see how
I could live without you all that time. In less than
a fortnight from now, I must leave you and report
for duty. My leave of absence will then have ex-
pired.”
“My papa has said that I am not to marry until
I am eighteen, and that will not be until June after
next.”
“Oh, hang the idea. It is all well enough to lis-
ten to the old folks in ordinary matters, but in af-
fairs of this sort it is not for them to decide. They
do not bring lovers together, and they have no
right to separate them.”
“Do you think that a year would work a separa-
tion of our love, Charley?”
“I only mean to say that delays are dangerous.”
“How could a delay affect our love?” she asked
tremulously.
“Well, for instance, some other fellow might
step in and cut me out.”
“This talk is not worthy our serious attention.
Love begets perfect confidence as well as love.”
“If your love was strong and unyielding like that


54 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
out by saying that it was not noticed that he had
promised to see them again that evening.
The preacher bade the suitor a cheerful good-
night, and little Bernice hastened to bed eager for
the morrow when he should startle the “sweet Miss
Merna” with the strange happenings of the night
before.


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 55
CHAPTER VIII.
TOUSSAINT WOULD FOLLOW WBIERE MERNA LEADS.
“I AM constantly telling you that I have a pas-
sion for flowers, especially those to be found outside
the hothouse.”
The speaker was Merna Attaway. The person
addressed was Toussaint Ripley. She was attired,
as was her custom at this season, in a clinging gar-
ment of some soft white material. The only decora-
tion she wore was a bunch of buttercups in her
hair, which in the simplicity of its arrangement af-
forded a charming framework for that benign coun-
tenance. Psyche when at her best never appeared
among the flowers with more queenly grace than
Merna in the midst of those growing in aunt Mar-
garet's little garden.
In one hand she held a watering pot, the other,
extended to Toussaint, contained a rose which she
had plucked for him.


56 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
“I observe that you are generous to a fault,” he
said on taking the flower. “You have chosen to
give me this brilliant red rose, while you, with all
your passion for flowers, are content to wear a few
field buttercups.”
“All honor to whom honor is due. This rose is
not only brilliant, but it is an ambitious flower.”
“It seems fitting that you should wear it,” said
Merna.
“It is rather more than I deserve, but for your
sake I shall not only wear this rose, but shall adopt
the flower as emblematic—according to your in-
terpretation of myself. And you have chosen the
poisonous buttercup to wear. Why not the lily of
the valley? I regard it as peculiarly appropriate
for your company. It is a thing of beauty and an
emblem of purity.”
“It is true that I usually regale myself with the
buttercup; that is, since I have been in this place,
but it is not the flower of my adoption, nor, as you
well see, of my avoidance. I love all flowers, and
I suppose quite equally. It is the perfume of the
flower and its beauty which engage and delight the
senses. This gentle, modest buttercup, you assert,
would prove injurious if eaten. And the lily you
mention as the emblem of purity is said to be deadly
poisonous if eaten. I have sometimes thought that
we are often inclined to go out of our way looking
for imperfections in nature. Let us remember that


58 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
than to its champion, to an idea rather than to a
person.”
“If, back of the idea, or the cause, I may pose
as the little champion, I shall be satisfied,” remarked
Toussaint.
“If your work in any department of life counts
for anything be assured you will win the plaudits
of all right thinking people. Is this the goal you
desire?” asked Merna.
“No, I can't say that I have any hankering after
general plaudits.”
“I rather like that expression. I advise that you
let the general plaudits go,” said Merna.
“This was at best a doubtful compliment,” thought
Toussaint. “The approval of my work on your
part is sufficient.”
“Well, let us begin the good work soon,” she re-
plied.
“When P Where?” he asked.
“To-day we will begin. Aunt Margaret tells me
of a sad case of destitution close at hand. A poor
old woman is sick. She lives in a wretched hovel,
and has been confined to her bed for more than
two months without the plainest necessities of life.”
“I suggest that we report the case to the poor-
house authorities. I will, also, invite help for her
by causing a statement to be published in the news-
paper here.”
“I have a better and more remedial plan, I think,


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 59
than that. It is this. We will together go there.
Aunt Margaret will prepare a basket of food for
the poor woman, and I will gather her a bunch of
flowers.” -
“Well, what am I to do?”
“You will take my Bible and read to her a chap-
ter from it.”
Aunt Margaret, whose generosity was proverbial,
soon filled a basket with delicacies for the sick
woman, and Merna and Toussaint were off on their
errand of mercy.
This was a new rôle for Mr. Ripley, and yet one
in which he had been placed by circumstances of
his own making. He had been a frequent visitor
during the past few weeks at the Lockleys and he
was sure that he already loved Merna, and that she
would early reciprocate that feeling. And why?—
surely not from anything she had spoken, much
less acted. You may call this a mere suspicion of
his make-up. I denominate it effrontery, and charge
it to his inordinate pride.
“It was of no small moment,” he reckoned, if
this girl was something less responsive to his capti-
vating voice and earnest pleadings than what he
desired; she was, nevertheless, profoundly interested
in him.
He was sincere, perfectly sincere in his desire to
become a champion of right. And yet he had no
definite line of action, and worse than all, no time


60 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
designated in which to begin operations. It would
have seemed more than insolence to have charged
him with permitting any selfish consideration to
lure him in the path of simple duty. And, yet, it
must be said, that because of Merna, and not in
spite of her, he was ready and willing to make any
sacrifice she might name.
He resolved that, with the word of command
from Merna he would gird on the armor and hence-
forth cease to be a vainglorious worlding. He be-
lieved he loved this girl, and he would follow
wherever she led.
He sometimes, however, wavered in his resolves.
He thought Merna too self-willed. She seemed
dominated by a love for humanity, strangely dif-
ferent from that which he desired.
Her horizon was much too large for him. But,
then, love begets love, and it is neither the creature
of judgment nor of the will. It is a capricious
thing—a wild delight, an intoxicating pleasure. But
then, this is so sweet. Who in its pursuit would be
dismayed?
Surely such a tender sympathetic creature could
not exist, he argued, without the consoling thought
that she was loved by one, to the exclusion of every
other being. He could not clearly discern from his
point of view how any one could be loyal to a
cause, except there was subsidiary to it the serving
of self-interest,


62 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
ful afternoon was the unconscious instrument for
this and other happy meetings of ours.”
“It will be my pleasure to increase your happi-
ness by having you accompany me on my pilgrim-
ages to the suffering, as often as you desire. Mrs.
Burleigh, who usually attends me on these visits,
will also be delighted to have you go with us.”
“We might overcrowd the little sick room, if we
ventured in by threes, and I, therefore, suggest that
as between Mrs. Burleigh and myself we take it
by turns with you, as you never seem to tire.”
“No, I do not tire; it is a recreation to go out
these delightful mornings and afternoons to talk
and read to the unfortunate and neglected of our
race.”
“I confess that I had never thought of this be-
fore, and yet I know dozens of cases of destitution,
cases which beggar description.”
“These cases, I think, should be brought to the
attention of the churches,” remarked Merna.
“Not to the churches of this community, nor
elsewhere, if I have been correctly advised. There
is far more selfishness within the pale of the church
than without. The church will sometimes provide
for a sick or distressed member of its flock, but re-
member that the majority of the destitute belong to
no church. There is so much fierce competition in
the church in the way of gay bonnets and costly
dresses that many devout souls feel that they are


64 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
“Measurably,” he uttered, half to himself and
half to her. And then he hastened to say, “And
you know, Merna, that I am much attached to you.
I have thought of you with a persistency which I
am half ashamed to confess.”
“And since when?”
“Since the hour I first knew you.”
“I hope you may never have cause to think of
me less persistently than you now do.”
“Are you really in earnest?”
“I am in earnest, and I do not feel ‘ashamed'
to confess it either.”
Toussaint looked askance at the girl by his side,
and he imagined he discovered in that look an
amused expressed. “Perhaps that look signifies the
awakening of a special feeling of interest in my-
self,” he thought.
When they reached the Lockleys' home, Merna
thanked Toussaint for having so graciously assisted
her in the little mission.
“And I sincerely thank you,” replied Toussaint,
with much feeling. “I have no words to express
the joy and happiness which you have been the
means this day of affording me.”


MEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 65
CHAPTER IX.
A PICNIC. FOLLOWED BY A STORM.
THERE were few good roads in the county of
E. , and this is but a specimen of the condition
of the highways as they exist to-day in many parts
of the fair Southland. This section of the country
was rapidly recovering from the devastation
wrought by the war between the States. The in-
habitants of the place were gradually rising from
the seat of “do nothing,” and extending a welcome
hand to the Northern capitalists settling for business
pursuits in their midst.
In a word, the wand of progress touched every
crude material, every dormant enterprise, every
lethargic soul—everything hereabout save the
country road. Whenever a road became impassa-
ble or unfit for the use of man or beast, a new
way or byway was appropriated by and for the
travelling public.
Mildred Grove was distant about five miles from
the town of H . This spot, now famous in song


66 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
and story, had been used for many years antedat-
ing the life of the oldest inhabitant as a resort for
those in quest of summer sports, such as tourna-
ments, picnics, horse races, barbecues and other
festivities.
And thus it came to pass that the Sunday schools
of the three Baptist churches of the town had ad-
vertised a union picnic which attracted both the
young and old in large numbers to Mildred Grove,
one bright summer day towards the latter part of
July.
There had been a continuous drought for several
weeks past, and in consequence vegetation suffered
and farmers complained. The sloughs of the old
road had long since dried up, and these plague
spots, too numerous to reckon, were temporarily
converted into receptacles for the dust, where the
wind in a flurry could play hide and seek.
Among the great gathering that disported them-
selves in the grove were Van Courtney and Ethel
Gay. They appeared to enter thoroughly into all
the diversions of the day. He was ever by her
side, so much that it was whispered on every hand
that this attractive couple would soon leave the bliss-
ful portals of betrothment to enter the enchanted
region of a nuptial ceremony.
Van Courtney and Ethel were so much absorbed
in one another, that when he proposed to her to take
a stroll, little or no heed was given to the slow


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 6?
but steady preparation of the people to leave the
grounds for their homes. The sun was then about
two and a half hours high. They strolled, hand in
hand, leisurely along the winding path thickly
flanked on either side by trees and shrubbery until
presently they reached a spot quite excluded from
the gaze of the curious, and answering somewhat
the description of a ravine. Here they halted, and
the girl took from Van Courtney's arm her zephyr
shawl and, spreading the same on the grass, seated
herself beside the fellow already stretched at full
length on the sward. For more than an hour they
remained in this sequestered place, oblivious of the
passing sunshine, heedless of the gathering storm,
conscious only of their own turpitude and yet sans
peur et sans reproche.
These two people might have lingered longer in
this spot, but their intercourse was interrupted by
Ethel, who exclaimed—“Listen, do you hear that
thunder P”
They arose simultaneously to their feet and to-
gether, gazing upwards, saw the heavy black clouds
mounting rapidly up the heavens with accompani-
ments of thunder peals and occasional flashes of
lightning.
“We must hurry and join the crowd or else we'll
be drenched,” said Van Courtney.
“Yes, we must hurry,” she replied, “for it is
late.”


68 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
“Not very late. It is this gathering cloud which
makes it appear late,” he observed.
True, it was not already dark. He could have
told the time by his watch, but he made no attempt
to consult it. His thoughts were turned in another
direction. He was much concerned about that swell
summer suit, which, with its showy belongings,
made him quite radiant and happy. He cared less
for the discomfiture of the fair companion with him
than for his own plight. “Damn the rain,” he mut-
tered. And then he grew sullen, and Ethel had to
content herself with monosyllabic replies to her
frivolous questions.
The clouds the meanwhile continued to gather.
The lightning came in more rapid succession. The
thunder reverberated and the distant rumble grew
lengthy.
When Ethel and Van Courtney had gained the
pavilion where the gay throng had hours before
held high carnival, there was no one to be found.
These pilgrims hurried away from the grounds as
fast as their feet could carry them. They passed
through the old farm gate which opened into the
main or principal county road, and on they trudged
for half a mile, plodding through rain and mud,
for the storm had begun in earnest. When they
reached the point where the new road made its way
into the old, it was now well nigh dark and they
-* - * .**


70 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
“Ah, there is a light,” uttered the girl, in a
voice which betrayed her sobs.
“Where?” he inquired.
“Don’t you see that little house on the left hand
side of the road yonder?”
It was difficult, not to say impossible, to dis-
cern a house the least distance off. But Ethel had
seen a light glowing from a little window on the
road side.
“Yes, I see the light distinctly, and we will tarry
there until the storm has spent its force.”
As they drew near the house an old woman who
had stood at the window opened the door as eagerly
as if in response to the knock of a welcome visitor.
“Lors sake! You chilun is soaking wet. Come
to the fire and dry yourse'f.”
Ethel and Van Courtney proceeded to obey
orders, and each taking a chair minus a back, gath-
ered around an old open fireplace, which had either
been in use for many years, or else its clumsy con-
struction had invited its rapid decay. A pair of
broken andirons supported by fragments of stone,
had heaped upon them brushwood which was strug-
gling to burn amidst the almost suffocating smoke
caused by a disordered chimney. Two cadaverous
looking cats, with a stony stare, lay purring in the
ashes, and on the edge of an old cupboard was
perched a dove whose mournful notes singularly
fitted the fearful storm now raging in all its fury


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 71
without. Jack, a well-grown dog, whose ribs could
be counted, was not content to remain in his
usual resting place under the house, for he had
throughout the storm been making impatient rounds
of the house prying his nose into all the cracks that
could be found. The howling of a dog sometimes
preys on strong nerves when otherwise above and
around us everything seems to go well. The ani-
mal had come to the door and given vent to his dire
distress in lamentations loud and strong.
This was too much for Ethel. She half arose
from her seat and begged Swepsy to drive the dog
away. Swepsy yielded a prompt compliance, for she
was eager to have the strangers feel perfectly at
home under her roof. She had removed a steaming
pot of what proved to be sassafras tea from the fire,
and begged the young people to have a cup with
her. She did not delay preparation for an answer,
but busied herself placing a huge bowl and two
cups and saucers, much battered and otherwise dis-
figured from constant use, on an old pine table
partly concealed from view by an age-ridden cloth of
yellowish cast, which contained many a smear and
blotch.
The old woman in a naive manner, yet brusque,
signalled the young folks to her humble meal.
Nothing would have been a more unseemly ex-
hibition of bad manners than to refuse such a gen-
erous invitation.


72 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
The three sat down to tea, and while Van Court-
ney only sipped a little of the beverage, Ethel man-
aged to make away with one cup of it. Meanwhile
the old woman had actually filled and refilled her
bowl.
Swepsy, who had at times generous impulses,
had felt genuine sympathy for the two bedrabbled
people now temporarily her guests.
She sat erect, holding in one hand the steaming
sassafras, her eyes riveted upon Van Courtney with
a most inquisitive gaze. Then, recovering herself,
she slowly asked with a certain dogged determina-
tion, “Are you a stranger here?”
“Yes, I am somewhat a stranger in these parts,
and totally one here.”
Swepsy was sure of her man, she well knew the
possessor of that sallow skin, those deep, sunken
bluish eyes, that sharp countenance, and that aqui-
line nose. The congregation on that June Sunday
was not too large, nor the ceremonies so inspiring
as to destroy her memory of the stranger, at once
so insolent and arrogant. She had told her neigh-
bors about the “yaller dog” who had made merry
at her expense, and in all the weeks that had passed
she nursed that most stubborn and usual resentment.
Swepsy, looking intently in the empty bowl,
slowly said, “I see you are both strangers in these
parts.”


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. #3
“What? What?” eagerly inquired Van Courtney
and Ethel.
“This is my book, and in it I read what has been
and what is to be,” said the old woman, tapping the
bowl with her spoon.
“Suppose you tell us our fortunes,” said Ethel.
“If you want your fortunes told, lay a piece of
silver in the palm of my hand and make a wish-
not loud, but to yourse'f.”
She placed a fifty cent coin in Swepsy's hand and
wished the several things she would have happen.
The girl was told to twirl the cup around three
times with the mouth downward. Ethel complied.
The seeress began.
“You come from away.”
“From where?” asked Ethel.
“From across deep water.”
“Yes, go on,” said the girl.
“You have things to worry you. Crossed in
love—lots of beaux. You don’t love but one man,
and he is not true to you.”
“I only want to know one thing. Tell me if I
will ever be married?” asked Ethel.
“No; you are born to be an old maid. I see lots of
other things, but they concern a man—a friend of
yours.”
“Oh, yes, Van Courtney. Then tell this gentle-
man his fortune.”
He followed instructions by twirling the cup


74 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
around three times and making the prescribed wish.
He, too, gave the weazen-faced woman a coin and
proceeded to be entertained. This was a perform-
ance richly laden with comical situations, thought
Van Courtney.
“You, sir,” began Swepsy in a sprightly vain,
“don’t b'lieve in fortunes.”
“Do you see that in the cup?” laughed Van
Courtney.
“Yes, I see in the cup that you are careless and
onconcerned.”
“Oh, yes,” uttered Van Courtney, not in the least
disconcerted.
“You too has come from across deep water. You
work in house with lots of people. Handle papers
—don't you write for a livin’?”
Van Courtney did not condescend to reply.
“You,” she went on, “are a fast young man;
you are fond of women, and drink—like cards-
a sort o' dude, you know—I guess I won’t tell you
any more now.”
“Why not?”
“I never tell the bad I see in the cup.”
“Oh, yes; tell me everything. It is only pas-
time.”
She seemed not to heed his instructions, but con-
tinued: “You are a sort of wolf. You are making
love to two girls in H at the same time. A
preached has a daughter you pretend to love,


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 75
Now—” and then she gave a long sigh. “You—;
well, look here for yourse'f; see that crowd of
people. Do you see them?”
“I see the dregs, if that is what you mean.”
“Zactly so. That's excitement. You'll make
trouble in some family. You'll be condemned and
hung. Now, I didn’t want to tell you everything.
You would make me.” -
“Oh, that's all right. And here's another piece
of money for your kind treatment. The rain is
over and we will jog along.”
“Bless your souls. Whenever you come this
way, be sho’ to come to my house and I will be
glad to see you both. Good-bye.”
Van Courtney and Ethel moved out and passed
along the highway. The rain had ceased. The
moon was rising and they could see their way over
the muddy road.
“I don’t understand that woman, after all,” he
said. “She told some lies, to be sure; but some
things were certainly true. I don’t believe in
these silly, ignorant people, but they make us feel
real shaky at times.”
“She's an old humbug,” said Ethel.
“Yes, you are right, but somehow her humbug-
gery sticks to the ribs. I shall never forget the
experience of this night. I feel a strange sense
of some impending disaster,” remarked Van Court-
ney.


76 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
CHAPTER X.
AT THE PARSONAGE.
IN the sitting room of the parsonage a few even-
ings following the picnic already narrated, were
Charles Van Courtney, Merna Attaway ,Toussaint
Ripley, Ethel Gay, the Rev. Burleigh and fam-
ily. The occasion was a tea in honor of Mr.
Van Courtney, who was about to take leave of the
“dear old town of H—” with all its memorable
associations. This was the one room of that unpre-
tentious cottage which delighted the proud Mr. Bur-
leigh, who, indeed, was never so happy (if appear-
ances counted for anything) as when surrounded
by a bevy of attractive young women, one or more
of whom were members of the so-called “smart set.”
The room in question appeared quite stuffy with
its overcharge of furniture, good and bad. Here
and there an antiquated relic vied with some flimsy
piece of furniture, while the quaint, old-fashioned
mantel fairly groaned under the weight of its dust-
ridden bric-a-brac, which seemed in evidence to es-
tablish the ingenuity of the Yankee mind which


MEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 7?
could make a heap of trash for a little money. There
were many books, old and new—mostly old; some
jammed in the big odd-looking bookcase, and others
heaped on the spacious old square piano, partly hid
from view by its well worn covering. In all this
mock parade of book fondness, the one thing which
to the eyes of Mr. Burleigh gave an air of im-
portance to this charmed precinct, was a large
crayon portrait, life size, of the minister and head
of the household. This portrait seemed a veritable
giant spread out among the innumerable pigmies,
which in small frames lined the walls of the sanc-
tum.
This was a somewhat incongruous gathering.
There was a want of mutual sympathy. It lacked
the elements as well as the aims and purposes which
mark a notable gathering. Ethel, who could be
relied upon to display on all occasions her super-
ficial knowledge, signalled to Van Courtney to as-
sist her in removing the books from the piano.
Presently she was seated at the instrument strum-
ming it in earnest. The fact that the piano was
woefully out of tune, in nowise disconcerted her.
She hastened to call attention to this fact with the
remark that in consequence she was not surprised
to know that “Charley” did not recognize his fa-
vorite song—“Bright Eyes.”
“Do you like ‘Bright Eyes, Charley?” eagerly in-
quired Ethel.


MEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 79
“I believe devoutly in the inspiration and power
of music. I mean the best music, that which appeals
to the best sentiment in man. Give me the weird
plaintive airs as rendered by those who saw planta-
tion service before the war, and I would not ex-
change them for all that I have studied in the Bos-
ton Conservatory of Music,” remarked Merna.
“Go get your harp and tune it. Let us not sit
down by the river as did the children of old, and
weep as we think of Zion. You sing and play.
Shortly I shall launch my craft on the political sea
and then my work to beat down prejudice will have
begun in earnest,” said Toussaint.
“I believe that we have discussed this matter once
before. I have not changed my views since then.
Nature is a fact—prejudice no less a fact. Will you
fly in the face of nature and prejudice? Nothing,
in my judgment, can be accomplished for our peo-
ple by politics. A blessed mission is his which
enables one to come in contact with the whites
christianizing and civilizing the people by precept
and example,” said Merna.
“I do not think,” said Mr. Burleigh, “that you
can overcome the race feeling by mere insistence
of one’s rights, either through politics or otherwise.
We talk greatly of the prejudice which white peo-
ple manifest towards us, and we never stop to
think that we, too, have much prejudice against the
whites. I love everybody. We are weaker than the


80 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
white folks. We haven’t the moral strength, the
knowledge, the wealth nor the love of unity which
the white man possesses.”
“I concur in all that you have said, Mr. Bur-
leigh. Upon the shoulders of the young men and
young women of the race of to-day rests the re-
sponsibility of piloting the race over the tempestu-
ous seas of race prejudice, folly and vice. We ought
seriously to ponder this race question. We should
try and get a correct solution to the knotty ques-
tions as they present themselves, and then set about
to eradicate the existing evils. What is prejudice,
anyway? It seems to me that it grows out of the
love of power, and the love of self, and is founded
upon racial differences. The closer the races come
in contact, the more intense becomes the prejudice.
The white people are apparently more prejudiced
as the days go by. In our competition with them,
measuring arms, we are meeting the natural re-
sistance. We must take no backward step. Let
us reach out for new opportunities, eagerly grasp-
ing them as they arise. Don't ask white people
for alms; ask them for opportunities for usefulness.
We must equip ourselves with manhood, ability,
character, industry and success is surely ours,” said
Merna.
“What we sadly need is equal industrial oppor-
tunities,” said Toussaint.
“There must always be a man for an opportunity.


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 81
Greater industry, skill, the sticking quality, honesty
and reliability will open the way for new oppor-
tunities. Then Hamptons with their trade schools
will multiply. If we will only cultivate the saving
spirit, cut loose from extravagant habits, work the
year round, encourage and assist one another in
business, we will acquire and obtain wealth and this
will effectually dissipate race prejudice,” observed
Merna.
“The future of the negroes of the United States
is, indeed, a matter of grave import to both races
in this country,” uttered Mr. Burleigh, with great
deliberation.
“We are not negroes. We are Afro-Americans,”
ejaculated Van Courtney.
“Charley, what have you to do with this negro
question, anyway? You are not a negro,” said
Ethel.
“Exactly so. I am an Afro-American,” reiter-
ated Van Courtney.
“Mr. Ripley, do you hear what my learned friend
has to say? If you intend to carry Africa into the
war, will you take this Afro-American (pointing
to Van Courtney) along with you?” queried Ethel.
“Bravo,” cried Mr. Burleigh, who in his eager-
ness to compliment anything Ethel said, had
chuckled until his glasses slid off his nose.
“Yes, Miss Ethel, my friend Mr. Van Courtney
goes wherever the negro race goes. You know that


82 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
one drop of African blood is sufficient to classify
a colored man; or, if you please, a gentleman with
an aquiline olfactor and bluish eyes. No matter
how intelligent, learned, cultured or wealthy you
may become, it is decreed by the white man that
you are a spurious counterfeit. Your straight hair
and white complexion will not exempt you from the
proscription of the mass,” said Toussaint.
“I wish to have you amend your statement in a
single particular. I do not wish to go on record
as having an aquiline olfactor.' I simply have a
prominent nose,” said Van Courtney.
“I stand corrected, my friend.”
At this sally the laugh went round. Merna arose
to say good-day to host and friends; Toussaint
joined her. Van Courtney and Ethel lingered to
attempt the difficult rôle of a duet.


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 83
CHAPTER XI.
AN OUTING EXPERIENCE.
AND the days glided merrily by. Now the day
on which Charles Van Courtney was to say good-
bye to his companions and friends had come, and all
too soon for this vain worldling.
Van Courtney having learned that it was the in-
tention of Merna and Ethel shortly to take one of
the early morning steamers and visit the city of
and points of interest adjacent thereto, decided
himself to embark for the Capital City on a morn-
ing steamer which should leave the same point
about the same hour as the one on which they would
take passage. And now they were grouped—Merna
and Ethel, Toussaint and Van Courtney—on the
big pier. A shrill whistle signalled the departure
of the craft. And then, amid the flutter of ker-
chiefs, the prow of the beautiful white steamer had
turned in the direction leading to the Capital of the
Nation. Au revoir, Van Courtney!
A few minutes later another boat came along-


84 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
side the pier, and Toussaint, Merna and Ethel were
soon on their course in the opposite direction to
that taken by Mr. Van Courtney. It was a bright
and glorious day. A hazy, cloud-like film curtained
the heavens arching low to the horizon, and the
gentle summer breeze swept the bosom of the deep,
chasing its tiny billows far out to sea.
“As when the sun, new-risen,
Looks through the horizontal misty air shorn of its
beams.”
These three souls gazed on the sea and the sky.
Ethel had a sort of vacant stare—a far-away look
—as if in retrospect Merna and Toussaint seemed
happy, but their happiness was not identical nor
mutual, but it was worked by a certain contrariety
of feeling. Their point of view was wholly dif-
ferent.
Merna was always charming in manner and cir-
cumspect, and yet I cannot say that she was a happy
creature. She had too great concern for the happi-
ness of others. It was hard for her to feel happy
in the presence of the wrongs and miseries of this
life. She appeared at times as keenly susceptible
of the struggles and discouragements of others as
if in her own sympathetic nature there was a mem-
ory of some similar experience which she had sus-


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 85
tained. If her eager sympathies were not awakened
responsive to the thought of the hardships to which
others had been subjected, then what? Was it from
what is sometimes called the inexorable law of
heredity—traces of the impress of a memorable and
barbaric institution on the offspring? Or was it
from environment in Boston, that modern Athens,
set like some rare jewel in the heaven of New Eng-
land liberty?
But Toussaint's happiness seemed unalloyed. He
was chiefly concerned about Merna and his love for
her. He looked up and believed that unfathomable
bliss would be his if she would only say that she
loved him.
Merna was a child of nature. She gamboled in
her fancy with the stars and communed with the
elements. She delighted to meditate on the works
of creation. And since man was the greatest work
of the Creator, she was resolved to look up and
lift up.
“I have such a headache,” said Ethel.
“I am sorry. I had hoped that this delightful
trip would prove highly beneficial to you,” replied
Merna.
“You are perhaps a little despondent. Cheer up.
Can I render you any service?” asked Toussaint.
“Yes. Get me, if you please, some water to
drink.”
Toussaint instantly complied with the girl's re-


86 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
quest, and accompanied her to a more comfortable
Seat.
And now, after an hour's run, the steamer “Mys-
tic” put alongside of the dock of the brisk and
bustling Southern city. The numerous little
wharves, separated by only the narrowest frith of
water, were literally swarming with animated
crowds of longshoremen. Merna could not but re-
mark to her companions the exuberance of good
fellowship prevalent among them; their hilarity
and beaming countenances betraying thrift and con-
tentment.
Toussaint, Merna and Ethel moved slowly up the
main thoroughfare of the city. The sun had rapid-
ly climbed up the heavens and was scattering in all
directions his torrid rays. At the instance of
Merna, they halted in front of a large drug store,
where she and Ethel made numerous purchases
of toilet and other articles which were to be shipped
to the town of H -
When Merna and Toussaint started to leave, they
observed that Ethel hesitated to arise from the seat
which she occupied. She explained to Merna that
the headache was “now fierce,” and the clerk was
importuned to administer some relief.
“No, no,” said Ethel. “No drugs for me. I have
a horror of taking medicine of any sort. It will
wear off presently, I hope. Oh, I tell you, Mr.
Clerk, give me some soda; a glass of vichy will


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 8?
help,” and turning to Merna and Toussaint, she
requested them to join her in a “social glass.”
Merna assented, saying, “Vichy for me, too.”
“Come, hurry up,” said Ethel, in a saucy vein,
looking straight at the clerk, who was eyeing the
party askance.
With a studied effort to appear polite, the clerk
replied: “You are all evidently strangers in these
parts.”
“Strangers or friends,” impatiently retorted
Ethel, “what we want is the vichy.”
“Really, we do not sell soda water to any but
our customers.”
“Well, don’t you consider this lady (pointing to
Merna) your customer?” asked Ethel.
“Come, Ethel, let us go,” said Merna, not wait-
ing for the reply.
“No; what I demand is some decent explanation
from this man,” was Ethel’s fiery response.
The clerk, who seemed not in the least abashed
or disconcerted, hastened to say: “I see that you all
appear to be decent and nice colored people; and
thus I thought you could take the hint. The truth
of the matter is we do not sell soda water to any
person of color.”
“That is not true,” retorted Ethel, “for I saw
you send a glass to a servant girl in the carriage at
your door just a few minutes ago.”


88 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
“The soda was ordered by a white lady for her
servant, and besides, it was not drunk in this store.”
“Oh, I see; any one can buy drugs, but if he buys
soda it is necessary to put on an apron, stand on
the outside and have some white person order the
water for you,” contemptuously replied Ethel.
As the three left the store, Toussaint said: “This
is the South, and it is an old Southern custom—a
relic of slavery.”
“I regret much that I did not know this before we
entered that place,” quietly observed Merna.
“Why, everywhere in this city and throughout
the South, this sort of foolish prejudice obtains.
You can buy a seidlitz powder and have the clerk
mix it in his store for you, but mineral water is con-
sidered a luxury and is vended alone for a favored
class,” said Toussaint.
“Well, I had heard about that contemptible ferry
prejudice, but little did I expect such meanness in
a drug store,” remarked Ethel.
“What about the ferry?” asked Merna.
“Mr. Ripley can explain. He is a product of this
hateful Sod.”
“Yes—I am indigenous to the South and am
forced to make the most of the situation. If you
will stand just where you are for a moment you
can feast your eyes on an amazing and impudent
example of folly and racial prejudice. You will
observe on your right, a maudlin band of poor


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 89
whites, some of whom can barely stand erect from
sheer dissipation. Now, behind these are three re-
spected and highly respectable colored citizens. One
is Bishop Winton’s brother; he is a conspicuous
member of the African Methodist Episcopal Con-
ference, and pastor of a prominent church in this
city; another is a leading lawyer of this section, and
enjoys the confidence of all who know him; the other
is a successful business man—a coal merchant.
“Notice the drunkards keep to the right. They
sit in the right hand cabin along with the fair
daughters and chivalrous (as they would have us
believe) men of the South, and yet, you and these
gentlemen I have pointed out, must go into another
cabin, set apart exclusively for people of color,”
said Toussaint.
“But there is a colored girl holding by the hand
a flaxen haired little boy; do they, too, separate as
the sheep and the goat,” laughed Merna.
“There you have the farce,” exclaimed Toussaint.
“That black maid goes into the cabin with the
whites. The little fellow is her Mascot you see.”
“And you say this is an old institution?” asked
Merna.
“Yes,” replied Toussaint, “it is thirty odd years
since slavery, but time has worked no change for the
better in this particular.”
“Certainly not, for slavery still goes on,” said
Ethel.


92 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
CHAPTER XII.
THE SOUTHERN INDUSTRIAL INSTITUTE-VACATION.
A veritable Arcadia! Here peace and plenty
seem to abide on every hand. Rich foliage from
rare trees spread their generous branches in every
direction; quaint cottages in profusion vie with
sombre buildings, whose walls are almost concealed
from view by the ivy and Virginia creeper; a de-
licious sky wooing the glistening river, whose broad
terrace is fringed with bush and tree, and above
and around this sheen of water, birds—true har-
bingers of peace—flit hither and thither, warbling
their sweetest lays.
This perfect summer day finds Merna and Tous-
saint, Ethel and Strother, Mr. Burleigh and Cla-
rissa, on the spacious grounds of the Southern
Collegiate and Industrial Institute. These are here
on invitation of some of the vacation students, to
engage in out of door sport.
“What game shall we play?” queried Mr. Bur-
leigh, as the party loitered under the big oak tree,


94 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
for any amusement requiring much physical exer-
tion,” he replied.
“I did not know that one so modest and so sweet
could play such a game as cricket; in fact, I did
not know until recently that ladies knew or could
play the game,” said Toussaint, addressing Merna.
“It has long been familiar to both sexes in Bos-
ton. I understand that the game is not generally
indulged by females in the South. I am not a hot-
house plant, Mr. Ripley. My taste for athletics is
quite pronounced. I play tennis, croquet, badmin-
ton and golf,” replied Merna.
“I am a mere novice in the game of cricket. I
learned what I know of it in Philadelphia, two sea-
sons ago. I have almost forgotten the names of
some of the technical terms,” said Toussaint.
“Well, there are popping crease and byes and
‘maiden overs’ and long field on and long field off.”
I will go over them with you. The popping crease,
where the batter stands, is four feet in front of the
wicket. Byes—”
“Come, Merna, Ethel is calling for you,” said
Toussaint.
While dilating on the novel terms significant of
the varied movements of the game, these two had
strolled quite a distance from the gay group.
Ethel had suggested that Merna be chosen cap-
tain and that the men play on one side, the girls
on the other.


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 95
Strother remarked that this would prove an un-
equal contest from the start as the men were supe-
rior players, taken as a whole. Some one said that
it would be a good idea to let the gentlemen play
left handed. This was agreed upon and the game
was started. The men went to the wicket first.
Ethel and Miss Atkins of the students opened the
attack. The fielding was quick and the bowling
good on the part of the girls and all the men were
out for seventy runs. The ladies then went to the
wickets with every chance of victory. The men
ranged themselves in the field and Ethel and Merna
faced the bowling. In perfect style they played the
left hand attempts of the men bowlers and presently
that fair side was out for ninety-three.
Toussaint and Strother formed a partnership
which was the only stand of the afternoon, Ethel
being especially successful with the ball.
When the game was in full swing, it was highly
interesting. If some of the throw-ins of the ball
by a fair fielder were not as accurate as desired the
error was condoned by the white shirt waists, short
duck skirts and sailor hats of white straw.
The sport was spirited and thoroughly enjoyed.
And while the game was in progres the large gong
sounded as a hint to prepare for tea.
The visitors were urged to remain to the meal and
all decided to do so. During the interval of thirty
minutes, Merna, Ethel and Clarissa remained with


98 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
said “Preservatory? Merna isn't the only preserve
in the jar; there are others.”
Toussaint frowned sullenly and went off to join
Merna, where Strother seemed to be engaging her
in an earnest conversation, and very earnest, indeed,
it appeared to Toussaint.
The sun coming down the heavens was scatter-
ing its beams full and fair against the vine clad
eaves and windows where at least a dozen souls
were grouped. Here was indeed an interesting study
in colors brought about by the economy of nature.
A bouquet of human flowers; some exquisitely
formed and delightful to the eye, others appealing
in the main to the nobler sentiments in our nature.
There was the manly form of Edward Strother, a
man with earnest thoughts and high resolves. If
one was seeking real worth, it was in that dark
brown, but comely skin. A high forehead, broad
chest—a strong and steady eye and an open counte-
nance was his. And there was Ethel, an attractive
girl, though somewhat short of stature, with a lus-
trous, beaming face and Indian complexion. She
was much fairer than Toussaint and yet not so fair
as Merna. There stood Rev. Burleigh, holding by
the hand Ethel, who gazed up intently on his shin-
ing ebon face and the white expanse of bosom, as
if there were somewhere a fresh discovery for her.
In this galaxy of faces there were scarcely any


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 99
two shades of color not readily distinguishable from
one another.
“The Young Men's Christian Association of
H , has secured the services of Joshua A. Rid-
ley of Boston, to lecture in the town hall to-night.
I ask the pleasure of your company there,” said
Toussaint, addressing Merna.
“I am obliged to you, but I have just accepted
an invitation from Mr. Strother for that occasion.
Your Association is quite fortunate in having se-
cured such a talented and distinguished lecturer. I
enjoy the personal acquaintance of Mr. Ridley; he
is a good man. I shall be delighted to see and hear
him on Virginia soil.”
“You mistake the Association. It is for the white
and not the colored Y. M. C. A. that Mr. Ridley
comes,” observed Toussaint.
“Well, it is a treat all the same. But what is the
subject of the lecture? I did not think to ask Mr.
Strother,” said Merna.
“The Brotherhood of Man,” replied Toussaint.
“An excellent subject and especially for this sec-
tion, I should say,” remarked Merna.
“Now, Merna, we are once more alone. I want
to speak quite plainly to you. I have decided in
justice to us both, to declare my feelings for you.
I have been deeply interested in you since the time
of our first meeting. That interest must be manifest
to you. It has gone on and on until it has ripened


100 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
into perfect love for you. Don't turn off from me
—you do not realize how necessary you are to my
happiness and peace of mind. I have intended to
tell you this truth for days and days, but I have
lacked the courage to speak out. Now, do tell me,
my dear one, that you will accept my avowal in good
faith.”
“Indeed, Mr. Ripley, I hardly know how to begin.
I have felt very grateful to you for your many kind-
nesses to me during my sojourn in your midst. I
have admired your straightforward conduct, and,
most of all, your ambition to do some good for
others. I really like you.”
“I really love you,” repeated Toussaint, as he
pressed her hand in his own.
Toussaint felt a slight effort to withdraw her
hand, and in obedience to it promptly relaxed his
hold, and looking imploringly in her drooping eyes,
he asked, as their gaze met, what she really thought
of him.
“I have already told you, Mr. Ripley.”
“Don’t call me Mr. Ripley; please, say Toussaint
—say Ripley, anything but the formal mister.”
“I shall then address you hereafter as Toussaint,
if you really wish me.”
“And you will also love me?”
“I will try.”
“Will it prove a hard task?”
“This I cannot say. I hope not. Oh, there is


102 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
box window eager to purchase tickets at fifty
cents apiece. A gentleman of pleasant address and
most engaging manners, told Toussaint and Stro-
ther that they were not authorized to sell tickets
to any persons other than whites.
“What mockery—what duplicity—what double
dealing in the name of Christianity. God help
these mortals,” said Toussaint, in mock solemnity.
“I’ll tell you what to do. There is the open stage
door; we will go in there behind the speaker and
hear the speech from the rear,” suggested Strother.


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 103
CHAPTER XIII.
SOWING THE WIND.
IT was ten by the clock, when a gang of “hood-
lums,” fresh from the slums of Washington,
strolled leisurely across Pennsylvania Avenue at the
point where that thoroughfare is intersected by
street. They kept on until presently
street was reached, where shortly afterwards they
halted in front of a plain brick structure known to
the gang as “Bachelor's Rest.”
There were in that little band some miserable
wretches, and yet these would have brooked no in-
sinuation that they were not quite as good as many
who moved in the “cream” of Washington society,
for they had with them what was regarded as fair
specimens of that set. It must, however, be set
down to the credit of the wretches that they had no
concern about the doings of society. These were
sports of the whole cloth, who, owl-like, slept by
day and kept an open eye at night. They proclaimed
themselves “dead sport.” True it was, that their


104 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
earnings were neither large nor certain, but they
stuck to their games through thick and thin.
In that band of midnight marauders there is one
character with whom we have to deal. It is
Charles Van Courtney. It was a mystery to more
than one person how this man, who was employed
as a messenger in the Treasury Department at
$60.00 per month, could do constant business with
the swell tailors and haberdashers of F Street.
Few Congressmen and men of leisure appeared on
the public thoroughfares more fashionably attired
than Van Courtney. He was accustomed to say
to his associates, “Fellows, you can’t guess me.”
But the secret of his strange success leaked out,
as secrets sooner or later will. It came about in this
way. Van Courtney, anxious to exploit himself
as an accomplished man, hit upon the idea of en-
tering his name at one of the leading professional
schools of the city. Columbian University was se-
lected as the school and law as the course he would
pursue. This occurred some years ago. He read-
ily gained admission, notwithstanding persons of
color were not permitted to matriculate there, for
his features and complexion were fairly Caucasian.
Van Courtney grew tired of this school experience
after remaining about three weeks. While attend-
1ng the school, his mother, several shades darker
in color than her son, called at the law building
one evening as the students were hastening away


106 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
lor had no cinch on this retreat. The truth of the
matter is, that quite as many Benedicts frequented
the place as the former. Of the ten rooms in this
house, seven were set apart for the use of the so-
called club, the remaining three were occupied for
the separate use of the President de jura, if not de
facto, of the elastic organization. Some of the
club's rooms, namely, the reception room, “smoker,”
where liquors were freely dispensed, and the dining
room, had varying attractions in their tawdry deco-
rations of well worn tapestry and trappings. The
furniture vied with the decorations. On the sec-
ond floor were three rooms, two small, the other
very large. These were all scant of furniture and
with bare floors.
The night in question was a cold, crisp one
towards the latter part of December. Between
the hours of one and two o'clock, a solitary
policeman, impatiently pacing his beat in the
neighborhood of “Bachelor's Rest,” stopped sud-
denly as he heard a muffled cry of “Help! Help!”
He sounded a call for aid, and at the same time hast-
ened his steps in the direction whence the sound pro-
ceeded. As he drew near the club there was heard
a din of voices, with mingled sounds of execrations
and dire threats. Two other policemen had come
up, and the three in chorus demanded admission.
No response being given to the request to “open up,”
the lock was forced, the door opened and two stal-


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 10%
wart conservators of the peace entered, while a
third stood guard at the window. “Ah, my gay
bird, you catch no weasel asleep,” said the stern
bluecoat, as he violently seized Van Courtney by
the collar, as that spry young man came near him
in his unceremonious exit by means of the window.
“Come with me, let us survey the field,” spoke
the captor to his captive, as “Lucky Charley” was
rudely jostled in the house.
What a sight met the gaze of the law's defenders!
Callous hearted and accustomed as they were to
scenes of brutality and shame, nevertheless, they in-
stinctively drew back, stupefied and amazed.
By the general and inquiring public, those not in-
itiated in the mysteries of “Bachelor's Rest,” this
place was looked upon as swelldom for the leaders
of colored society. An imitation, feeble, of course,
of the swell white clubs of the city.
But here was a strange picture which struck a dis-
cordant note on the pleasant sentiment which a
Washington constabulary had nursed for colored
aristocracy. They were appalled. Their sensibili-
ties had received a severe shock. Their idol was
shattered.
In one room were a number of men huddled about
a faro game; apart from these was a poor fellow
crouched in a corner of the room with an ugly gash
just over his right eye. It was bleeding profusely.
The man was frenzied, and too weak to stand. It


108 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
was not easy to determine whether his weakness was
caused by the loss of blood or from excessive use of
intoxicants, for he had evidently been drinking very
freely.
Many conflicting explanations were given as to
the origin of the trouble, statements heightened and
colored to suit the whims or prejudices of the narra-
tor. The best and indisputable evidence was a
wounded man, a tall, cadaverous individual, having
in his sleeve a razor distended wide, and a gaming
device.
“You were all gambling, then?” inquired an
officer, of the party.
The proprietor, President of the club, or what
shall we call him, spoke up: “No, sir; I allow no
gambling in this house. These men were playing
for fun.”
“A faro game for fun,” chuckled the policeman.
“I declare you all under arrest.” *
Another officer peered in the other two rooms.
There was a little, old sideboard in one, with two
empty whiskey decanters exposed to view, and a
table containing a pack of playing cards. The other
room had only its table and four chairs.
While the inspection was in progress, the “Black
Maria” had been driven to the door, and a squad of
police alighted and took charge of twenty young
men. The wounded man was carried below to the
street and placed in the vehicle, where the others, in
s
*


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 109
single file, awaited their turn. They all protested
their innocence, and all looked meek except Van
Courtney.
“Why do you arrest me? I was not in the row,
neither in the room where the game was running,”
with vehemence uttered Van Courtney.
“When we go for game, we bag all we find,”
tauntingly the officer replied.
“It’s a d-d outrage to treat me like a dog.
I’m innocent.”
“Tell that to the judge later this morning,” said
the Officer.
One policeman whispered to another as he as-
sisted Van Courtney in the patrol. Then, turning
to him, said: “We will let you go, as it does not
appear that you intended to violate the law.”
At this the President of the club said, “Lucky
Charley is not more guilty nor less guilty than I
am. I have violated no law. I have done every-
thing I could to keep a respectable club. Lucky
Charley was actually playing poker. I have just
been told that he was playing for money, and this
is positively opposed to our rules. He won the
stakes by cheating. A fellow drew his gun on Lucky
Charley and he squealed. But you can’t let him out.
He was in the house when you pulled it; that’s
enough,” said the President.
“But I was not in the game—neither game,” de-
clared Van Courtney. .


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 111
CHAPTER XIV.
THE WAGES OF SIN.
WHEN Van Courtney reached his boarding house
about mid-day, following his carousal, he found a
letter awaiting him. It was from Clarissa Bur-
leigh, the girl whom he had so shamefully betrayed
the summer before. He was already greatly de-
pressed in spirits, and the recognition of the familiar
scrawl on the envelope was by no means calculated
to assuage his wounded pride.
“Curse it all,” he muttered, as he nervously broke
the seal, and read as follows: “My darling Charley!
You won’t come to me. I am so unhappy. I feel
miserable. I have been here for nearly a month, and
you have not been near me. Oh, Charley, why did
you fool me away from home, promising to marry
me, and then set me adrift in this strange city? I
have neither friends nor money. Well, if I do not
see you this night, then you’ll not see me again.
Meet me to-night at eight at the Rock Creek Bridge.
If you are not there by nine o'clock, you’ll never see
me again. You won’t come to the house because


112 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
you are ashamed to—”. Here Van Courtney
ceased reading the letter, crumpled it in his hand
and tossed it into the open grate, where the flames
soon devoured it.
Presently the bell sounded for lunch, but Van
Courtney had no appetite for the meal. He re-
mained in his room for a half hour or more, sitting
with his face buried in his hands, his body swaying
to and fro over the embers. He arose hurriedly,
lighted a cigar, mounted his wheel and rode off to
the Treasury Department, there to resume his work.
When near the department he narrowly averted a
collision with a coupé driven by a young colored
man. Van Courtney thoughtlessly attempted to
cross the street at the instant the carriage from the
opposite way was approaching the curbing.
“Turn out,” shouted Van Courtney.
“Turn in,” said the driver. Van Courtney looked
up at the speaker and exclaimed: “Hallo, is it you,
Ed. Strother?”
“Well, yes, it's Strother.”
“What are you doing in this place, and what does
this horsey business mean?”
“It means that I am a coachman.”
“Coachman, eh? Well, I am on my way to work,
but the sight of you unfits me for anything. How
long have you been here?”
“Since October.”
“Have you been in this city for months and not


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 113
looked me up? You know that I would have been
only too glad to see and introduce you around as
soon as you struck town.”
“I am busy both day and night, and, besides, have
no wish to burden you with my company.”
“That is strange talk. I don’t understand you.”
“Would you not lose caste by taking me around?
I understand that you move in the best society. I
understand further, that your color and position
have much to do with your social station. I have
neither a clear skin nor position to recommend me.”
“That's nonsense—mere stuff. I’ll take you
safely through the lines. I will lead—you follow.
See! my boy.”
“Guess I will move on,” said Strother.
“In a hurry?”
“No, I have nothing to do until four o'clock, when
I am to call at my employer’s office for him.”
“Wait. I will leave my wheel just across the way,
and we will go to some lunch room. I'm as hungry
as a wolf.”
Van Courtney took a seat by the side of Strother
and they went to the Dairy Lunch. Strother's pres-
ence proved an insuperable barrier to the accommo-
dation of Van Courtney. The waiter pointedly re-
fused to serve them food to be eaten at that place,
but would wrap them up anything they wished to
purchase and take away. At this Van Courtney in-
dignantly led the way out of the room. Then to the


WEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 115
and dirty, with its cheap food—its filthy newsboys
and bootblacks sitting around.”
“Well,” said Strother, “I’m not here to eat. I
have come to see you eat.”
Van Courtney fretted and fumed through the
meal. Strother looked on in silence. When the
meal was over they left the dining room and drove
leisurely back over the route they had come. Van
Courtney was the first to speak.
“Old fellow, you haven’t yet told me how you
came here.”
“The story is short and simple enough,” said
Strother.
“Out with it, then. Let me have it.”
“I wanted to improve my mental condition, and
thus I am here.”
“School, eh? Where are you.”
“I am at Howard Law School—Howard Univer-
sity.”
“Studying then—law? Good enough. I, myself
was at Columbian for a while, but got marrying in
my head, so had to shut down there.”
“You mean that you are married?”
“Oh, no. I only thought of the venture at the
time I was in school. It will be a long day when
they trap this bird,” and he, by way of emphasis,
tapped his forehead with his hand.
“Have a care, have a care,” slowly remarked
Strother.
< . .


116 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
“For you I am caring, for you I am caring,” Van
Courtney broke out in coarse song.
“You don’t improve any, I notice,” said Strother.
“No, my education is done for. But tell me, how
does it happen that you have decided to study law.”
“It was my employer's advice that induced me to
take up law. My preference was some trade. I was
put at the blacksmith's trade by my father when a
small boy, and kept at it, working during school va-
cations and after school hours, until I left home.
That work, however, does not seem to pay nowa-
days. I should like to be a machinist. It’s a gain-
ful occupation, and besides, there are comparatively
few of them in the South.”
“You will never make a lawyer. It takes gab for
the law,” remarked Van Courtney.
“Yes, that may be true in my case, but there are
many exceptions to the rule. Mr. Robbins, for
whom I work, is a lawyer, who has no gift of gab,
as you call it. He has, however, a big practice, it
seems. Mr. Robbins advised me to study law, prom-
ising to help me along in my studies.”
“Then the boss will put up the stuff to get you
through the school. I was wondering how you
would manage to pull through on a coachman’s
pay.”
“No, you don’t quite understand me. Mr. Rob-
bins will help me, allowing me free access to his fine
law library. The money which I saved up while at


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 117
home to pay my way through some trade school,
will now help me through the Howard Law School.”
“Here's hoping you’ll skin through,” said Van
Courtney, elevating his elbow, as if in the act of
toasting him.
Then he was silent. A deep frown settled on his
brow. His teeth were set over and against his lower
lip, until it was pressed as if in a vise. He gazed
around vacantly. There was a visible tremor in his
frame. Who shall deny that at that moment he did
not have some mystic feeling, some strange fore-
boding—presaging ill—as his frail bark was swept
irresistible on Over the bitter waters of Marah to its
awful destiny.
“Say, Strother, she's in the city.”
“Whom do you mean?”
“Why, Clarissa; haven't you heard it?”
“No; it has been more than a month since I have
heard from her. My friend, Toussaint, wrote me
last saying, among other things, that Rev. Burleigh's
home had been despoiled.”
“Go on, what else was said?” he eagerly inquired.
“That was all on that line,” answered Strother.
“I will tell you the whole story. Last summer
Clarissa became infatuated with me, or, if you please
it was a sort of love at first sight, you know, and to
keep the thing going, I just deliberately made love
to her in return. We got engaged to marry. I was,


118 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
you see, only in fun. Now the silly girl has come
here to jack me up to make good my promise.”
“I must be frank,” returned Strother. “You have
made a terrible blunder. You must marry that girl
now.”
“I’ll de d–d if I do.”
“Have you a sister?”
“Three Of them.”
“Single or married?”
“Two are married. At least they are so far as
I know.”
“Suppose some man should trifle with their affec-
tions. How would you feel about it?”
“They are in Alabama; I'm here. They ought to
have sense enough—and I know they have, to look
out for themselves.”
“But what if they did not?”
“Why, you bet I’d protect them,” and his eyes
flashed fire.
Van Courtney's countenance reflected the work-
ings of his mind as it contemplated for an instant
the dire consequences of a misapplied love—involv-
ing heinous depravity—of which Strother knew
nothing.
“You are quite right, for these seeming trifles
often bring a train of evil.”
“But hear me, I have not told you all. Clarissa
wants me to meet her to-night—this night, prepared
to marry her.”


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 119
“Oh, I guess she'll give you a decent time in which
to get the license and the minister.”
“The girl is a fool. She's wild to get married.
Think of it. She threatens to commit some rash act
if I do not show up before nine o'clock to-night.”
“Is it as bad as that?” innocently asked Strother.
“Just that bad,” was the reply.
“Then, by all means, marry her. She has lost
confidence in you—become desperate.”
“Yes, she's mad—perfectly beside herself.”
“Do as I advise you. Don’t make a wreck of the
poor girl. Think of it. She is alone in a great city,
away from father and mother, and every kindly in-
fluence. You may save her from destruction by
prompt action on your part. She's a good girl. I
have known her since early childhood. She is but
a child now, barely sixteen.”
Van Courtney was agitated in mind over the
probability of Clarissa’s self-destruction if he did
not promptly meet her with preparedness to marry
her.
“Well,” said he, speaking very slowly, “I will
marry her.”
“I will then go with you to the Clerk’s Office,”
Said Strother.
“Retgister's Office, you mean. It's agreed.”
“One—two—three—three o'clock has just struck.
Can't go. I am sorry. Anyway, promise me that


NEITHER BOND NOR FREF). 121
throwing herself on him, and with despair, look-
ing pleadingly in his eyes.
“I am compelled to ask you the question in order
to find out why you have summoned me here.”
“Summoned you here—” she drawled out; and
then sharply said, “You add insult to injury.”
“Don’t get cross, little pet.”
“You know that you have treated me mean—vile.
You had me leave my home, now upwards of a
month ago, promising to marry me as soon as I
came here. You have never been near me since
last summer, at H You have ruined me. I
am now an outcast—no home—no friends. My
mother is now ill abed from the misery you have
caused me, and my father had, before I got your
last letter, threatened to drive me from home, say-
ing I had disgraced the family.”
The girl paused, and covering her face with her
hands, wept bitter tears of remorse. Her sobs dis-
turbed Van Courtney. He had not intended to ex-
hibit the license to Clarissa, still less to marry her.
This license was only a precautionary measure to
prevent a silly girl from the commission of a dread
deed.
“Now, cheer up, girl, you have not yet heard my
explanation. I have the best of reasons for not hav-
ing seen you at once, on your coming to town. You
know that nothing but some unavoidable circum-
stance would have prevented me from meeting you


122 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
on your arrival in the city. I, too, have had lots of
trouble—people putting up jobs on me through envy
and malice. I ought to have told you at first of the
surprise I have for you. I will not tease you an-
other minute.” Here he drew from his pocket the
license which had ben furnished him to wed Cla-
rissa, and handing it to her, he leaned forward and
embraced her tenderly.
In an instant she had dried up her tears to read
the paper.
“After all, you are real good. I am foolish to
doubt you. I’ll forgive you all.” Then frantically
seizing his hands and swinging them to and fro in
ecstacy, said, “Charley, dear, when are you going
to marry me?”
“Any time; to-night if you wish.”
“To-night!” she exclaimed, wild with delight.
“Yes, to-night, my bird; but then”—assuming an
air of studious earnestness, “Another evening will
do; it is too late now.”
Van Courtney, leaning against the handrail of the
bridge, was looking on the turbid and turgid stream
below as its waters flowed on over jagged rocks.
Clarissa was nestling close by his side. Neither one
observed the approaching steps of the stranger until
he was within a few feet of Van Courtney. He
made pretense of passing them, unaware of their
presence. Then, turning half around, he uttered—
as if addressing himself, the words, “Mr. Van


124 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
“I have a little business with Van Courtney, which
requires prompt attention.”
“I know all,” said the girl, “and you don’t want
to arrest Charley. He's done nothing.”
“What is your name, Miss?”
“Never mind about that. He is mine.”
“You are the girl—(here the detective extracted
the warrant from his pocket to refresh his memory)
—Clarissa Burleigh.”
“That's my name. Read me the paper if it’s
about Charley, please,” she asked in a plaintive
voice.
“You may read it for yourself,” he said, as he
handed it to her.
After having read it, she turned to Van Court-
ney, saying, “Charley, what did you tell the gentle-
man?”
“I’ve told him nothing. But you know that I am
not guilty, and can prove it,” stammered the fellow.
“They can’t arrest you, Charley, if you are mar-
ried to me. Where's your license? Show him that.
We'll get married to-night.”
The paper was passed to the detective, who, after
perusing it, remarked: “It is good enough as far as
it goes, but the trouble is it does not go far enough.
You may never marry; besides my duty is plain—
it has no reference to the conjugal state. My war-
rant is to take the body of the culprit before the
proper officer of the law,”


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 125
“But, Mr. Officer, why should you want to take
him away to prison when he will marry me to-night?
Won't you marry me now, Charley,” she tearfully
asked.
“I have told you that already—before the officer
came,” he doggedly replied.
“Well, I tell you what I'll do. You both are evi-
dently sincere. The license attests your honest in-
tention,” said the detective, looking directly at Van
Courtney. “I do not wish to embarras you—either
of you. I cannot, however, relinquish the custody
of a prisoner. Miss, since you are to be married to-
night, I have no doubt that your father will be sat-
isfied, and the ends of justice be fully met. You
two go ahead. I will take the opposite side of the
street. I must, however, be present to witness the
ceremony, and to disarm the least suspicion. I will
pose as a friend of the contracting parties.”
When the boarding house of Clarissa was reached
the girl conducted Van Courtney to the landlady.
He explained the object of his visit, inquired the
amount of Clarissa's indebtedness to her, settled the
same, and hurriedly left the house, ostensibly in
search of a minister who would unite himself and
Clarissa in the holy bond of wedlock.
The detective, as he boarded the street car with
Van Courtney, explained to him that he would not
go too near the residence of the minister, but await
his return on the outside.


128 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
all. Gossip had it that his father, an African Prince,
had been captured in his native land for the Ameri-
can slave trade. However that may be, “Father”
Gay lived a useful and sober life, and died at a good
old age, leaving behind him much land for two sons,
the only surviving heirs, and, best of all, transmit-
ting to his posterity a name untarnished—precious
and priceless legacy |
John Gay was early in life a successful candidate
for the favor of the people. He drifted into specula-
tion and politics, and in both he was a winner. He
was a shrewd, resourceful man, fairly well educated,
industrious and modest. For many years until re-
cently, he had, as the leading representative of the
colored race at the Capital, been called to occupy not
a few places of considerable profit, trust and respon-
sibility. As the years went by his wealth increased,
so likewise his family. There were in all seven chil-
dren, six of them girls. A lad just emerging from
his teens, and an older daughter, were away,
schooling in the North—two were married, the re-
mainder at home with their parents.
There were social demands to be met, and yield-
ing to these, Mr. Gay built and furnished a palatial
residence in a very desirable section of the city, on
the site of the plain frame structure so long occu-
pied by sire and son.
John Gay was eminently qualified to maintain a
sumptuous home, for his real estate was assessed at
–


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE), 131
in common, but it was of the butterfly variety, fleet-
ing and visionary. Class three was the best prod-
uct from the institution of slavery. In this
group it is a matter of pride to name as members,
Ralph Attaway, John and Margaret Lockley. And
yet another class, not numerous but ah! terribly
well defined. This is the riff-raff famed for its
shiftlessness and licentiousness. If class one had
a modicum of ease and contentment, it were well
earned. These are bearing and most bear the brunt
of all the ills of the race and also blaze the path
for its future greatness. This class was the ad-
vance guard—the flower, if you please, of the army
of degradation. With the mass, it was simply a
struggle for bread. Whenever one could gain his
bread without a struggle, why he left the mass and
joined the class.
Candor compels the remark that Ethel’s one hun-
dred and four exquisite cullings from the big so-
ciety bunch were lacking in variety of color. Shall
I whisper, fond reader, the truth that black pansies
could not mingle where octoroons, quadroons and
mulattoes congregate? The line was not so dis-
tinctly drawn, however, among the large circle of
the four hundred, although the blacks were eyed
suspiciously here.
The gay residence presented an animated scene
one night in January, early after the family had
taken possession. The occasion was a reception
*


132 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
in honor of a lady friend from New York—Ethel's
chum. The select, or “upper crust,” drawn from
Washington’s four hundred were out in force.
They began to arrive a little past the hour of
eight and increased in numbers until nine o'clock
found a swarm of hansoms, carriages and cabs in
waiting about the house. The presence of so many
vehicles may be explained as due to the prevalence
of a snowstorm, which had been raging since noon-
time, and in consequence street car traffic was most
effectually blocked. Radiant and happy were the
women in their vari-colored gowns, many of ex-
quisite patterns. The men, for the greater part, were
fine appearing, all faultlessly and appropriately at-
tired, and among them some who had made their
mark. t
There was nothing wanting in the interior dec-
orations of the rooms in which the guests were as-
sembled. Nothing was overdone—everything was
in order. The furnishings were sumptuous and the
color scheme of the walls and decorations artistic
in the best sense of the word. In the library and
drawing room, were gracefully arranged smilax and
the orchid, while about a dais placed in the library
for the band, were rare exotics, so massed as to
completely hide from view the musicians.
It was ten o’clock when the orchestra struck up
the strains of the grand march which had been de-
ferred until this hour awaiting the arrival of a cer-


134 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
CHAPTER XVI.
LITERARY LIFE AT THE CAPITAL.
THE preliminary exercises of the Blyden Histori-
cal and Literary Society being over, the President
arose and said:
“Ladies and Gentlemen: I will now introduce to
you Mr. James M. Hughes of this city, who has
been selected to present a paper for discussion, en-
titled ‘The Status of the American Negro.’” Mr.
Hughes spoke for about twenty-five minutes, dis-
cussing in the main the treatment accorded the ne-
gro in different sections of the country. He went
back to conditions in the South during “Reconstruc-
tion” times. “We are accustomed,” he said, “to ask
ourselves what is the remedy for existing evils
meted out to us in this country? Well, before we
can find a remedy we must know the disease and its
cause. I take it that all of our ills are traceable,
directly or indirectly, to our unpreparedness for
citizenship. After the Reconstruction period the
ballot was given the black man. He realized his
weakness and unfitness for government. Coming


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 135
out of darkness into the noonday light of a splendid
civilization—an active participant in political af-
fairs, he perforce circumstances recognized white
people as the proper governing power. The South,
too, saw instinctively that the interests of both races
required the intellectual and moral development of
the negro. The Republican party had imposed a
harsh condition on the Southern people at the ter-
mination of the war. Now we have a train of evil
following in the wake of this wrong. The carpet-
bag régime, with its manipulation of an ignorant
and corrupt vote, is the fruit of the Fifteenth
Amendment to the Constitution. The intelligent
and thoughtful negro now sees that it is manifestly
essential to the prosperity of the South, and ulti-
mately to the welfare of himself, that some restric-
tion be put upon the ballot. In state and local elec-
tions the negro, for the greater part, has always
been the tool of the demagogue, while in national
elections he merely votes his sympathy, remember-
ing that he was made a free man and a voter by the
Republican party. I think that the greatest enemy
to the negro, and the greatest obstacle to his progress
is the politician, and, worst of all, the negro politi-
cian. The colored man is taught that he is asserting
his independence by voting against the very men to
whom he must go in time of trouble. If the negro
intends to improve himself and his condition, he
must find a way to keep from being a solid force at


136 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
the polls against the main body of the white people
at the South. I have spoken somewhat at length,
touching the educational, financial, moral and indus-
trial outlook of the race. I will conclude by saying
you must quit politics; put behind you all dreams of
literary and scholastic attainments, acquire practical
industrial knowledge, court and deserve the friend-
ship of the best white people in your neighborhood.
Heed the advice of Oscar Richards, the leader of our
race: ‘Leave the negro problem to the South.’”
As Hughes finished his paper a dozen persons
were on their feet to make reply to it.
The speaker who opened the discussion said that
he agreed “fully with the sentiments so ably pre-
sented in the paper of Mr. Hughes.” He regretted,
however, that the speaker omitted all reference to
“lynch law—the one great topic of the day.”
Throughout the South the various legislatures
make liberal allowances for the support of the col-
ored public schools. According to the Commission
of Education of the United States, the Southern
whites have contributed to the cause of education
among our people at the South more than $75,000,-
OOO, and the Principal of the great Southern Insti-
tute for the Colored Race says that of the $4,000,000
contributed yearly for negro education, $3,000,000
comes from the South.
“I think that our teachers, ministers, leaders
generally and the press, should bestir themselves


140 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
shambling manner, and with husky voice betraying
the nervous excitement he felt, said:
“Mr. President: My coming in your presence
to-night is by mere chance. I am a stranger both to
you and your city. I feel that I ought not to intrude
myself on this notable gathering, and I should not
do so, believe me, if my own thoughts were in ac-
cord with the prevailing sentiment first voiced here.
What concerns me most are not the views of the
leader of this discussion, but rather the reflections
of the speaker who was last heard, touching the
character and worth of a man whose memory I re-
Vere.
“Let me here say that I honor the name and fame
of Oscar Richards. He is a grand and good man—a
splendid product of the new order of things. He is
doing a good work—leading a highly useful life.
We are now just beginning to estimate his worth.
Another generation will measure his work. But
what of Frederick Douglass? Was he not also a
great and noble man? I need attempt no comparison
of Richards and Douglass. They differ in their pur-
poses as widely as their years and the times in
which they were called to action. Perhaps they were
cnly alike in one respect, their conscientious convic-
tion to duty—apart in all things else. Douglass
went forth with Phillips and Giddings and Garrison
to help clear the way for Richards. The old and the
young were then bond. Douglass pleaded with the


142 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
charged with having married a lady a few shades
lighter in complexion than myself. I am not
ashamed of that charge, and ask no man's pardon.
What business has any other man with the color of
my wife? and what business have I with the color of
any other man's wife? Let every man be contented
with the color of his own wife, and cease to trouble
himself about the color of other men's wives, and we
shall then have much less trouble in the world.
“‘Washington, January 28, 1884.’
“Now, this letter is the conclusion of the whole
tilatter.”
Toussaint sat down, apparently careless of the
generous applause which came from the whole gath-
ering. The fervid style of his oratory, the dispas-
sionate treatment of the discussion and the presen-
tation and effective reading of the autograph letter
of the famous man, awakened enthusiasm in the
breasts of the apologists of Mr. Douglass, and ef-
fectually silenced the tongues of slander.
The presiding officer invited attention to the sub-
ject under discussion, adding that the speeches were
of a digressive nature, which could no longer be
tolerated. This remark silenced some persons who
were eager to gain the floor—mainly to questions of
privilege and personal explanation. One irrepres-
sible arose and delivered himself as follows: “I
wish to say just a word concerning the inter-mar-
riage question. I, too, am opposed to miscegena-


144 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
millions of them are in the South. The white pop-
ulation of the Southern States is about double that
of the colored race. The negro does not assimilate
with the white race, and thus he is considered as
an alien. As I understand it, the Southern white
man regards us as either the active or sympathetic
foe to law and order. We, at the same time, de-
clare that his reason is blinded by his prejudice
towards us as a race. We are, therefore, intensely
suspicious of the white man's every movement in
our direction.
“There is a race problem and we must all real-
ize its workings, and set ourselves to work to ef-
fect a solution of it. Earnest and eager men of
both races are puzzling their wits as to the methods
to be adopted which will aid the solution of this
problem. There is no one way to solve it. There
are many ways for its solution. First of all the
white man must leave out the question of com-
plexion and learn to judge us not by color, but by
character. That is to be the only criterion. We
must at the same time bear in mind that neither the
occupation of the country nor its civilization are
OurS.
“The whites must remember that we are not all
degraded. There is only a small per cent of the
negro race vicious and depraved. There is also the
degraded class of poor whites, who never lose an
opportunity to villify us. They are hounding us


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 145
down and attempting to keep up a guerilla war of
extermination. No, I will not dignify this thing
and call it guerilla warfare. It is mobocracy, or,
better, the kingdom of hell set up here on earth.
Where lynch law prevails, there civilization has fled
to brutish beasts. Mob law of to-day is, after all,
but the last feeble expression of men—the under-
lings of their 1ace—vainly seeking an excuse to in-
augurate a reign of terror, having for its sequel the
extermination of a race with which they cannot
much longer compete. Ku-kluxs, White Caps,
White Liners, Regulators and Lynchers are all in-
tended to accentuate race prejudice—which is the
moving spirit of dread race antipathy and distrust.
Every one knows that a large majority of our peo-
ple are peaceable, law-abiding citizens. We are no
more nor less responsible for the criminal class of
our people than are the white people. We are asked
to help capture the scoundrels of our own race who
commit the savagery that causes lynchings. We
will do our best to root out and discourage every
semblance of vice and evil; but if the whites having
absolutely all the machinery of the law—all the
guns and all the powder—cannot overtake and cap-
ture the scoundrels, we are then powerless to do
SO.
“Let the whites, however, not despair, for Judge
Lynch is making a fairly good record in his bloody
work—and this without our aid. Through the fiat


146 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
of Judge Lynch 50,000 black men have been put to
death in this land. Some of these men were guilty
of various crimes, others were guiltless of all of-
fense. If the white men of the South would lend a
hand and help us to protect our wives and daughters
this act would prove a powerful incentive to en-
courage us to protect their females.”
“I had purposed,” remarked the President, “to
contribute a few words to this most interesting dis-
cussion, but the time limit for the debate has arrived.
We have all, I trust, profited by what we have
heard. From the trend of the discussion to-night I
gather that the negro is constantly brooding over his
present ills, instead of occupying his mind and time
with better things; that the white man North is
gradually letting go the negro, leaving him to toddle
alone or fall. This last is as it should be. We may
well pause and ask, ‘Watchman, what of the night?'
The answer of solemn warning is, that out of one
blood God made all the nations of the earth to dwell
together in peace. If men will not heed the warn-
ing—if the discordant elements of both races will
continue to sow the seed of discord—we will re-
member that they who sow to the wind shall reap the
whirlwind. Thus spake my Lord.”


148 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
was memorable for three things: the large crop of
candidates which it yielded for county offices, the
acrimony engendered on account of the rivalry of
office seekers and the open bribery and corruption
everywhere visible among the venal voters. With
a race having few members in these parts who could
boast the art of public speaking on the hustings and
platform, Toussaint was easily in favor. He be-
came almost famous in a day. He scaled the dizzy
heights of distinction among the lowly at a single
bound. His fondness for politics was not alto-
gether a passion. He inherited a taste for the
whirligig of public life from his father, who had
before him been active in the memorable politics of
Reconstruction times. And years afterwards the
elder Ripley esteemed it a worthy privilege to take
the boy Toussaint by the hand and lead him to the
precinct meetings, and there set him down in the
midst of the new citizen, who, wrestling with the
alphabet of politics, was chafing and taxing his lung
power in calling “Mestor Cheerman,” and con-
stantly rising to some “p'int o' order.”
The better element of the colored citizens was
generally conspicuous by its absence. Toussaint
was the new Moses, whose peculiar mission it was
to purify and build up the Republican party in this
benighted section. He was an inveterate reader,
devouring indiscriminately history, literature, phi-
losophy, together with desultory reading on the race


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 151
he tied a young white missis up and whipped her;
and the white folks all got down on him worse.
And then they said they was goin’ to kill all the
niggers and shet up the darky schools.”
“That sounds like a fairy tale. The Democrats
are always trying to fool the ignorant of our peo-
ple. It wasn't Justice Williams but Justice Haw-
kins who had the girl whipped.”
“Yes, that's the name—Hawkins,” said Uncle
John.
“Justice Hawkins followed the law. The poor
white girl had stolen something, and she was
flogged for it just the same as your daughter, if
you had one, or my sister would have been pun-
ished had they stolen. The law was made by white
men to disfranchise the negro voter, that is to pre-
vent him from voting, and to degrade him and his
race.”
Uncle John looked up in the speaker's face, shook
his head ominously, then let it drop. He said
nothing.
“Am I not right?”
“Yes, Mr. Ripley, you are right, mebbe, but it
seems to me white folks ain’t goin’ to stan’ that.”
“But they have got to stand that or worse. We
are American freemen, and one man is as good as
another.”
“You is a man of learnin', and I reckon I hadn’t
oughter dispute you. But it 'pears to me as we


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 153
“No, it is not exactly electioneering. I am a race
man. I mean to see to it that my race cultivates
the true spirit of race pride, putting their own peo-
ple before every other race. Look at the white
man; he honors his race. Well, I want our people
to look up and be true and fearless men. In a few
weeks there will be an election for town and county
officers. We have put up an almost solid colored
Republican ticket, a dyed-in-the-wool ticket. Dyed-
in-the-wool reminds me of the way the great Fred.
Douglass spoke of his own Republicanism. Now I
want you, Uncle John, to be at the meeting to-
night. It takes place on the Court House green.
I am to make the principal speech. Come and let
me know what you think of my doctrine.”
“Oh, I'm hearin’ of you. Everybody's talkin' of
Toussain' Ripley. People say you’re right smart.
But what is it I was sayin’ about you jus’ now?
Oh, I know, I was a-sayin’ how—how you ought'n
stop learnin’ children to go into 'lectioneerin’ busi-
ness.”
“Yes, I answered you.”
“I kinder didn't jus’ understan' you.”
“Well, it’s just this. I feel that I can be of more
service to my race in politics than as a country
teacher.”
“Well, if you stick to teachin’, who can’t tell
what'll happen? You might some day be a big
teacher like Oscar Richards,”


154 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
“I would rather be true to my race than be a big
teacher.”
“Isn’t Richards true to his race?”
“Not in the best sense of the word.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean just what I say. Oscar Richards is in-
juring his race, and that beyond repair. He is
teaching our young men and young women to re-
gard the white people as their superiors—telling
them that they must find a place amid the humble
pursuits of life as they are not fitted for the higher
stations to which all ambitious white people aspire.
Let me give you a sample of his teaching. A little
while ago there was a fire at the State University,
which destroyed some of the principal buildings
there. You know that this is a white school. The
Superintendent of Public Instruction for the State
urged the teachers in all the schools under him to
send in contributions to aid in rebuilding the houses
destroyed. What do you think? Why, among the
earliest contributions received was a fund from the
Primary Department of Oscar Richards' Institute.
One bright little fellow, in his eagerness to help to
rebuild a school which would for all time exclude
him, brought a basket containing a dozen eggs,
which he requested be sold, and the proceeds ap-
plied to the University Fund. Why, I ask, was not
this boy taught to save those pennies to help pay his


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 155
own, or a sister's, or some other colored boy's way
through school?”
“I think that was a good thing, Mr. Ripley. His
teacher was learnin’ him to do good for evil.”
“Better an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth,
with such heartless reprobates as are turned out
from that Institution.” Then he added abruptly:
“Well, I must leave you. Of course, you will come
to our meeting to hear me speak.”
“Yes, I will try an hobble out to hear you, but I
don’t go roun much o’ nights.”
Political mass meetings in the peaceable County
Of E are usually well attended, and the negro
suffragist may here vote and cheer as lustily as the
rest, for there are none to molest or make him.
afraid.
Toussaint reached the place of meeting unat-
tended, and clambered to the top of the tall rickety
platform, which stood like a scaffold against the
sombre walls of the old court house. There was a
dense mass of black faces, relieved here and there
of its monotony by the sprinkling of mulattoes, and
the fringe of white faces. Apart from the crowd
stood a dozen or more Democrats. Old man Lock-
ley, true to his word, had been on hand since dark,
in order to maintain a position near the stage. On
the platform was seated the white candidate for
Clerk of Court, who was also Chairman of the Re-
publican Committee; the other white officer (can-


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 157
negro domination follows swiftly on the heels of
that other myth, social equality between the races.
The last is well nigh dissipated; the first is the fruit-
ful source of all our ills in the body politic. We
have long ago learned to expect nothing good from
a poor white man where a negro is in question, and
your aristocracy have given themselves over to a
reprobate mind—to open bribery and corruption.
“In our last municipal election, the Democracy
had as its candidate for mayor a citizen whose
name had hitherto been regarded as a tower of
strength and a synonym for honor and integrity.
But his managers went out into the market to buy
negro votes—no attempt being made at conceal-
ment. One paid off in checks, the other in cash.
The negroes would enter from the east side, and
being vouched for, emerge from the west exit with
$5 bills in their hands. In many instances, the pay-
master pinned the bills on the negro lapels, and
they circulated through the crowd, bringing recruits
to their candidate's forces. The negroes were
urged to vote promptly, as the price would soon
drop from $5 to $2.50. Thus you see that the
better class of our people must hold themselves aloof
from the debased men of all races, who continue
to barter away their God-given rights as Amer-
ican freemen.
“Think of it, every man of you, no matter how
black or how humble, no matter how ignorant or


158 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
how poor, is an uncrowned king, and the ballot is
your insignia of power—it is your royal sceptre.
The king, however, should not defile himself. He
should not leave his high estate and accept bribes.
“And, again, think of your wives and children
at home. These are your sacred trust. You are
their chosen representatives. No delegated power
conferred by man can equal yours. You speak with
divine authority. Your commission is from God.
See that you bear his seal upon your brow. The
ballot was given to protect not alone yourselves,
but as well those who cannot speak for themselves.
Do not, I entreat you, fetter anew the limbs of wife
and babe, born and unborn.” A mighty shout went
up in approval of that last sentiment. Continuing
he said:
“My friends, we have many dishonest and treach-
erous people among us. We have the shiftless as
well as the thrifty. And this leads me to say that
we can never lift the race as a whole. I believe in
the doctrine—the survival of the fittest. I believe in
individual development. Acquit yourselves like
men. Show to the white people that a man’s a
man for a that. Give the white man a wide berth.
Don’t push yourself on him. Let him see that you
regard yourself as his equal, and in moving among
them do so without fear, favor or affection. If you
are unable to do this, your inability becomes a con-


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 159
vincing argument to show your inferiority and de-
pendence. -
“Let us cease to dissemble. Let us get together
and elevate our best men to place and power and
influence.
“We will not stop with this county's contest.
We will look the field over for suitable material for
Congress. This strikes me as the best way to de-
velop the best negro. I am aware that there is a
manifest tendency on the part of the white people to
consider us only as a class—to segregate us, making
for us a place in bulk. My plea is that the negro be
let alone, and he will work out his own salvation.
The white man, however, is not alone responsible
for this never-ending color question.
“It has been well said that the organized negro
leads to the organized white man. It will be well
for both races when the white man forgets the
negro's color; but he cannot forget it until the
negro himself forgets it, and this will not be possi-
ble until the enemy both from without and within
will cease to handle us like a herd of cattle, and we
cease to consent to such an odious arrangement.
The negro who insists upon recognition of his per-
sonal merits as a man will surely secure good will
and equal rights.” -
“Mr. Chairman: (a voice from a Democratic by-
stander), will you permit me to ask the speaker a
question?”


160 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
The Chairman: “I presume the speaker will
yield.”
The voice: “Are you in reality opposed to raising
the color question?”
The speaker: “Yes; I am unalterably opposed to
it.”
The voice: “So you seem to say, and yet you are
industriously advocating the election of negro of-
ficials solely on the ground of color. Your talk is
a strange mixture of inconsistencies.”
Toussaint continued, “We have a mixed ticket of
white and colored men, and I only mean to urge
their election on the ground of their merit and gen-
eral fitness. It is the old cry you have just heard.
Whenever a colored man is being run for office, we
are charged with drawing the color line, and yet we
are expected to vote for white men for office with-
out a murmur, whenever they bob up. Who draws
the color line then?
“The negro is only partially free. It is a good
adage that they who would be free themselves must
strike the blow. Many of you are unable to read
and consequently cannot understand questions of
public policy. Let me give you an unerring touch-
stone, which, when applied to every matter where
your vote is required will teach you which road to
take for your safety. Find out your Democratic
neighbor's choice of men and measures, and then
go and vote directly against him.


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 161
“Now, bear in mind that on Tuesday next is elec-
tion day. You have a supreme duty to perform.
If you hope for good government, let your vote con-
form to your wish. The coming fall will witness
a struggle for party supremacy in the councils of
the nation. If you will but do your whole duty
Tuesday—go to the polls and vote the entire Re-
publican ticket—you will thereby help smooth the
road for a great victory in the presidential struggle.
Democrats are getting disgusted with their party,
and are flocking to the Republican party—thrusting
aside the black voter. Stand your ground, for your
political salvation is in this party.”


162 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
CHAPTER XVIII.
A MESSAGE FROM AFRICA.
NEARLY a year had passed since Toussaint first
beheld the object of his love. And now he seemed
no nearer the goal than then. There had been but
little correspondence between them during the
period of their acquaintance. Only a short while
ago they had parted; she seemingly yielding to his
entreaties. But she looked down and at her feet there
lay a shadow which was deepening across the sea.
He, proud and self-reliant, heard her voice, and was
filled with expectancy.
Merna’s return proved indeed a sad one, for there
she met her first great sorrow in the death of her
mother, which occurred a few days after she had
reached Boston. Now there was no one left upon
whom she could lean for sympathy and guidance,
save her uncle. She wanted to get out of the
city, away from the scenes of its sadness and tur-
moil, away from its loneliness and hopelessness.
And she felt too that she could not longer re-
main unemployed. The desultory service of as-


MEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 163
suaging grief, comforting the distressed, minister-
ing in sympathy and substance to the poor and
needy, was henceforth to be reinforced by some
gainful occupation.
It was a season of great depression in business.
What employment could willing hands find in Bos-
ton? True, Merna was well educated and accom-
plished, having received the best instruction that
Boston could offer. She, however, lacked fitness
for any especial pursuit; and even though she
might gain a place for which her training and
tastes were adapted, would she not then be in the
way of some worthy applicant who needed this
work as a means of support for herself. This
thought wrought upon her tender sympathy. “I
would not, if I could, take bread from others—
those who may need it. I should like to go South,”
she thought. “There workers are needed, and I
can afford to work for a pittance.” She at-
tempted to persuade “dear Uncle Ralph” to give up
business in Boston and settle in the town of H -
He shook his head gravely enough at this timid
suggestion. He finally told Merna that he and
her mother had many years ago resolved between
themselves never again to return to the South;
and the fact that her mother was no more, served
as a fresh reminder to keep his promise.
Ralph Attaway was not slow to see that there
must be a change of scene for Merna, and that at
**


164 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
once, or else her brooding might take on a more
serious turn. And thus he proposed for them-
selves a trip to the “Dark Continent.”
“Let us go over to Africa and hunt up the little
Republic,” he laughingly remarked.
Merna expressed great joy at the prospect of
visiting the land of her pride, and concerning which
she knew so little.
“Do you really mean it, Uncle Ralph?”
“Yes, we will go just as soon as I can arrange
my affairs.”
At first thought it puzzled Ralph to know whether
to suspend business at his old fashioned stand, or
to entrust its management and reputation to new
hands. He decided, however, not to hazard all, but
to close up his shop for a season.
It was ten days later when Ralph Attaway and
niece set out for New York, going thence to Mon-
rovia via Liverpool.
>k >k >k >k >k >k >k >k
Toussaint had received but a single letter from
Merna during her sojourn in Africa, and that one
was severely disappointing, in that there was not
the least reference made to show the drift of her
feeling for him. -
He read the letter again and again, hoping each
time to find some peg whereon to hang his hope.
In one place she wrote: “You are young and aspir-
ing; if you were here with me we could, hand in


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 16?
CHAPTER XIX.
THE BLACK REPUBLIC.
MERNA ATTAwAY lived amid a quiet but charm-
ing settlement, just a little way out from the tur-
moil and excitement of Boston life. There was
nothing quaint nor picturesque in the architecture
of the home of Mr. Attaway. It was simply a
plain, goodly-sized two-story frame structure,
gabled roofed with broad veranda fronting the
street. Yet the immaculate whiteness of this
house, the stable and enclosure, and the pretty
cropped grass lawn, with spreading trees shading
on every side a tennis court, together with the
twittering of innumerable swallows as they swarmed
about the eaves of the cottage, afforded the curi-
ous a hint as to the manners of the worthy people
residing within.
It was a bright balmy spring morning when the
enterprising reporter of the “Boston ” called
to interview Ralph Attaway, who was again at home
after his African tour. Merna was on hand and
greeted the news gatherer in her naive sweetness,


168 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
and without the slightest ceremony. Then she has-
tened away for Ralph, pausing to say that, “Uncle
Ralph is never here so late, but since his voyage
he has been somewhat indisposed.”
There were many interesting objects in view to
engage the attention of the argus-eyed reporter.
On every hand there were evidences of the rare
judgment and exquisite refinement of the young
housekeeper. The nooks and crannies were filled
with curios of this country and Africa; besides,
there were precious souvenirs distributed here and
there throughout the reception room. , Presently
Merna returned with an apology from “Uncle
Ralph,” who felt too tired to see any one.
“I should be willing to tell you something of my
impressions, and what I saw in Liberia, that is if
you have a mind to hear it,” said Merna with diffi-
dence.
This was the first intimation the reporter had
received of Merna’s sojourn in Africa along with
her uncle, and he, of course, agreed with alacrity
to have her relate her experiences. In answer to
his question she replied:
“No, sir, I was not anxious to get back home.
When I was in Africa I felt that I wanted to re-
main forever; but uncle was not willing to live there
and I could not think of leaving him alone in his
old age. Quite contrary to my expectation, I found
the climate temperate and healthy, especially at


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 169
Monrovia, where I made my stay. Many residents
of that city with whom I talked, told me that it was
decidedly healthy thirty or forty miles back from
the coast, and it is there that you will find the soil
fertile and deep.
“I know that you have heard much concerning
the African fever. You see that I have escaped it
(and she laughed). Why, African fever, so Dr.
Blyden says, is nothing more than malaria, such as
is found in the swamps of the Carolinas—the lagoon
region—where fevers are hatched. He further as-
sured me that African fevers are not easily taken.
“Oh, yes, the little republic seems to be progress-
ing, especially when you take into consideration the
circumstances under which it was established. You
must remember that slaves in escaping from this
country went to Liberia with a twofold purpose—
in search of liberty, also to help Christianize their
distant relatives. This colonization work began, I
think, in 1817. It was thirty-seven years later
when the colonists ventured (having previously ob-
tained the consent of the American Colonization So-
ciety)—to declare themselves an independent na-
tion, modeled after our own government.
“There are in Liberia at least twenty important
towns, among them Monrovia, its principal sea
port and seat of government. There are mayors,
aldermen, public libraries, churches, schools, col-
leges, professors and teachers, lawyers and physi-


170 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
cians, merchants, warehouses, custom houses, light-
houses, soldiers, militia, police, and in general all
the essentials of a stable government.
“It seems a wonderfully productive country.
Everything that can be grown in a civilized land
will grow there. Garden truck grows in Liberia
with surprising rapidity,—corn, wheat and other
grain. Tobacco and cotton will grow as rapidly
there as in our Southern States where they are in-
digenous; and coffee, indigo and the sugar cane are
the spontaneous products of the soil, and may be
cultivated at pleasure. There is no winter, as you
know, in Liberia. There the hills are covered with
perpetual verdure. Picture, if you can, a stretch
of beautiful flowers extending about forty miles.
“The natives, often without tools or skill, and
with little labor raise more grain and vegetables than
they can either consume or sell. Cattle, swine,
goats, sheep, fowls and ducks thrive without feed-
ing, requiring no other care than to keep them from
straying.
“Well, I can remember only a few of the Liber-
ian products which are exported. Cocoa, coffee,
cotton, indigo, ivory, gold, tortoise shells, hides,
iron, copper, rubber and palm oil are some of them.
“Yes, sir, I really think it would be a suitable
place—indeed, the proper place of residence for the
Afro-American. In the first place the standard of
morals is high there, for the piety of the first set-


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 171
tlers has been transmitted to the descendants. Me-
chanics of well-nigh every trade are carrying on
gainful occupations, and every child receives appro-
priate schooling.
“I am very happy to say that there is no race
problem in Liberia. There you will find neither
mob rule nor lynch law. Liberia is progressive,
and its rulers are black. I believe, however, that
greater prosperity would come to the little Republic
if the Constitution should confer citizenship on
white people along with those of African descent.
Of course, in the early days of the Republic, it was
doubtless a wise provision to have restricted suf-
frage to persons of color, or else the blacks would
soon have been driven from place and power. I
think the danger line is now passed. Money is
needed, and the white people have it. With capital
the country could not only develop what she has,
but could reach out to the rich lands of the interior.
“Yes, sir, the country I speak of has great re-
sources, and the American colored man, I repeat,
can be utilized in the work of colonizing and in
Christianizing it. He ought to be a prime factor
in that work. I share the views of prominent men
in Liberia, who have experimented with my people
there.
“No, sir, I do not believe in a gigantic coloniza-
tion scheme. The time is not ripe for it. I believe,
however, that our government should lend its foster-


172 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
ing influence towards aiding in the development of
the territory, which embraces more than 50,000
square miles.
“Assuredly, I believe in Africa for Afro-Ameri-
cans and their descendants, until the latest genera-
tion. There are already in that country the Eng-
lish, the French and the German, but the climate is
too torrid for them. I am not ashamed of my peo-
ple. I am proud to be an humble member of a race
that claims such celebrities as Geoffrey l’Islet, corre-
spondent of the French Academy of Sciences; An-
thony William Amo, and Benjamin Banneker, as-
tronomers; and Alexander Dumas, Napoleon's Gen-
eral of Division and called by him “Horatius Cocles
of the Tyre.’ There is the son and grandson of the
famous general, novelist and dramatist, respectively,
and there is Dr. James McClure, who carried away
the first prize from 500 Alumni of the University of
Glasgow; and Prof. Edward W. Blyden, another
eminent scholar.”
“You seem to believe in the ultimate triumph of
your people in the distant Republic, through the
agency of Anglo-Saxon greatness,” remarked the
reporter as he arose to take his leave.
“I scarcely know how to answer your question.
I suppose I should say both yes and no to it. Cer-
tainly, I believe in the triumph of my race—this be-
cause I believe in the ultimate triumph of right over
wrong. I do not, however, believe that mere


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 175
service for God—bringing her life into more per-
fect accord with his teachings.
It may not be easy to believe that a young and
attractive girl though possessing lofty ideals should
interest herself in the race problem to the extent of
spending her time during the heated spell in teach-
ing nearly forty children, who, for the greater part,
were in destitute circumstances. This was purely
a labor of love and charity, for it was given abso-
lutely without compensation. There was no diffi-
culty in the way of obtaining pupils, especially since
there was no charge for their instruction. The
parents of the little ones were only too glad to be
rid of them for a few hours, inasmuch as their
presence at home was a hindrance to those of
their superiors who would pursue outdoor work
or pleasure. There were difficulties to be met with
in the way of securing a place where Merna could
teach. There were suitable rooms in the basement of
the First Baptist Church, in which Sabbath-school
was held, but how was Merna to secure these, since
she was known to only a few persons in that com-
munity, and little interest was manifested on the
part of those who had children to school. There
is at all times an abundance of enthusiasm in church
work, but it usually stops short of the school house.
Edward Strother, who was at home on a visit
from Washington, endeared himself to Merna by his
indefatigable efforts in smoothing the way for her


176 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
work. He it was who prevailed on the Rev. Bur-
leigh and the trustees of his church to allow Miss
Attaway to have her school at that place. There
was some hesitation about the matter, but after two
weeks of delay Strother reported to Merna that he
had gained the consent of the church officers for her
work there.
The announcement of the opening of Merna’s
summer school was made from the pulpit of the
First Baptist Church alone, for there was in the
privilege conferred, a condition precedent that only
the children whose parents were communicants in
that church should be allowed to attend.
The first school day brought together about sixty
pupils—twice as many as could be accommodated in
the room set apart for the purpose. Again Stro-
ther's services were needed and were successful in
securing an additional room, and he also volun-
teered to assist Merna in her self-imposed task.
Her school had been in operation just one week,
and she was grappling with the practical realities
of her work.
It was recess hour, and Strother had come into
Merna’s room to compare notes on their little ex-
periences, as they were both novices in this new
rôle. *
“My, my, how the tots do try one's patience,”
said Strother. “Some of them are queer. The
things you wish them not to do, they are eager to


180 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
“If you are not in a great hurry, I will go along
with you and your brother, as I must pass the
minister's residence on my way home.”
Swepsy said they would wait. “Come, then, take
seats and rest yourselves.”
>k >k >k >k >k >k >k :k
The hour for the dismissal of school had arrived,
and soon the children were homeward bound. The
little vixen was detained only a few moments to re-
ceive a gentle reproof.
Then Swepsy and Jack Dempsey accompanied by
Merna and Strother set out in the direction of the
minister's home.
Swepsy, a familiar figure in his church, was al-
ready known to Strother, who was made acquainted
with Jack through the sister.
“Mr. Ed, I am real glad to see you. You been
out to the North, ain't you?”
“Yes, I’ve been to Washington.”
“Sho' 'nuff, that's where Brother Burleigh's
young one is, I reckon; at least, I heard that she
was out there. That 's my bizness here now—to
tell him that Brother Jack saw that feller who used
to go with her.”
“Where!” “Where!” came in chorus from Merna
and Strother.
“Jack,” said Swepsy, “why don’t you talk? Got
any tongue? Tell these folks where you saw that
5 *
111211.


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 181
Jack eyed Merna and Strother as suspiciously as
though he believed they were calculating the con-
sequences of some evil deed. He then slowly
cleared his throat as if making ready for a trying
ordeal.
“I cum (ahem, ahem), from Pasertaink: dat’s
down in Alabama-ma (ahem) I see a man dar at
de train jes uz I cum’d to tek de kars.”
“How did you know that it was Charles Van
Courtney?”
“He tole me so—now hole on, dat ain’t de name
he gub me, but he 'lowed dat he wuz from dis
State. I dun forgit de name he gub me; but it
warn’t any sich name ez yo' call. We nebber
would ha’ knowed it was him, but sez he to me,
‘what you doin’ har. Dis was at de train. I
sez I cum har to git erway from the ole plantation
where I stays. ‘Well, whar you gwine, enyway?"
sez he. “Where I gwine? I been in de country, all
dese y’ars, sez I,-‘eber sence de wah—on Mars
John's plantation.’ I tole him I had a sister in ole
state, and ef she wa’n’t dead I’d like to see her.
He axed me whar’bouts in de State, an’ I tole him
dat I didn’ reck’n I know’d whar she wuz, but a
teachar comed out my way who wuz a preacher too,
and he axed me an’ some mo' han’s—at de church
one Sund'y—'lowed ef we knowed Swepsy who use
to 'long to Mars John and was sole away befo de
wah,”


184 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
Merna did not so much as smile this time. She
saddened at the exhibition of such idolatrous super-
stition.
Swepsy, like Jack, felt triumphant.
“So we are going,” she said, addressing Merna,
“to find Brother Burleigh, and lay the matter be-
fore him.”
“Is it not terrible to blight a home, destroy a
young life and wreck one's self as Van Courtney
has done?” observed Merna.
“Yes, and he deserves the full penalty of the law
if he should be caught,” was Strother's reply.
The parting of the ways for Merna and the
strangers was reached,—Strother accompanying
Merna to her aunt's home, Swepsy and her brother
going directly to the house of Rev. Burleigh.
The pilgrims found the minister at home engaged
in writing a letter to Ethel, urging that wayward
young woman to return to H . Into the eager
ears of Mr. Burleigh, Jack Dempsey rehearsed the
tale of his discovery of Van Courtney and the in-
cidents connected therewith.
The news of the miscreant’s whereabouts had for
Mr. Burleigh its terrible awakenings—it brought
fresh to his mind a stranded child, his own, a grief
stricken mother, also a keen sense of shame at his
own persistent and criminal folly.
In his self-abasement he cried out “I am a miser-
able wretch!”


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 185
“Wretch!” repeated Jack, rolling the word under
his tongue as a sweet morsel, “dat udder feller's de
wratch. Jes’ hol’ on (and he began to spread out
the herbs before the minister), I can fotch dat man
back har. You tak dis High John, put it in water
and carry it 'roun' wid yo’, and I’lay he'll be har
moughty soon.” -
Mr. Burleigh took the proffered roots, for he be-
lieved it would gratify Swepsy as well as her
brother.
When the preacher's company had left, he hur-
ried to the telegraph office as fast as his feet could
carry him, where he dispatched the Washington
Detective Agency, giving information as to the
whereabouts of Charles Van Courtney, a fugitive
from justice.


186 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
CHAPTER XXI. *
RACE PROBLEMS.
“Whom the gods would destroy they first make
mad.”
IT was about the same time that Strother and
Merna were strolling leisurely along in the direc-
tion of her aunt's home, that Toussaint was wend-
ing his way thither in quest of Merna. As he
drew near the house he saw the girl and her com-
panion coming, engaged apparently in earnest con-
versation. This sight was anything but inspiring
to Toussaint. It was not that he then, or had ever
before suspected any rival for the affection of
Merna, certainly not from his honorable friend
Strother. But he madly reckoned every disap-
pointment that came to him, where she was con-
cerned, a rebuff, and this soured his nature and
blinded his reason. He was completely crestfallen
—crushed. Thrice of late he had called to see
Merna, to welcome her return to the old town, and
especially to press his suit, and thrice he had found


190 NEITHER BOND NOR I'REE.
“You surprise me. Your manner fills me with
consternation. I must go,” she said.
“Then good-night, Merna.”
“Good-night, Mr. Ripley.”
“On the dear old place the shadows fall,
A hage of summer twilight covers all,
The waves lap gently 'gainst the river brim,
The breezes murmur low their vesper hymn.
“I stand alone and view the well-known scene,
My thoughts are with the sad ‘It might have been.’
Again my heart is throbbing with the pain
Of parting, and the longing that is vain.”
Merna tried her utmost to conceal her agitation
from Strother, whose eyes seemed to follow her own
from the moment she returned to his presence, after
Toussaint had left her.
The Biennial Conferences of the Southern Indus-
trial Institute were year after year growing in popu-
lar favor. These were gatherings of the students
and friends of the Institute, to further the moral,
material and industrial prosperity of the colored
people of the South. At these gatherings the farm-
ers, teachers and preachers met to discuss race
problems, making an earnest search after the truth
for the betterment of mankind. The conference, the
evening in question, had under consideration Mob


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 191
Law and the Remedy. Besides Merna and Stro-
ther, there were present, Toussaint, sitting well in
the rear of the hall, also the Rev. Mr. Burleigh, who
wanted to talk over his trials with Merna, and not
having found her at home, had come to the Con-
ference, expecting there to see her.
The discussion of the race question was quite
animated, and Mr. Burleigh, not given to worrying
over much, soon forgot Jack Dempsey and his
story. At the conclusion of the reading of the
paper on Mob Law, Mr. Burleigh was on his feet.
“I wish to say that I find but little in the paper
you have just heard to commend it to my favor;
there is, however, very much in it to condemn.
Take, for instance, the assertion, this sweeping and
thoughtless assertion that, ‘The remedy for lynch-
ing is simply to cease the outrages and the lynchings
will stop; continue the outrages and the lynchings
will always follow. Surely this is a specious propo-
sition. As if in all sober earnestness there would
be no lynching if there was no wrongdoer. I wish
to ask my patient hearers what think they of the
recent lynching of a young colored man, a graduate
of this Institution—lynched by some Tennesseeans
for no other cause than that a co-operative store
conducted by the victim and two other men of his
race was a successful enterprise? The other part-
ners fared better—one was whipped, the other
driven from the city where they had their business.


194 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
Every fair-minded man can see that the colored man
is improving in every way, and yet in some direc-
tions this progress is so painfully slow. The negro,
however, is a better churchgoer than a Christian.
He needs to be a living Christian rather than a talka-
tive churchgoer. We should like to become a great
people. Well, mere insistence on our political
rights, and heedless opposition to the white man will
not make us great nor enable us to gain the sym-
pathy and good will of the people among whom we
must work out our destiny.
“There is little organized social and business life
among us. You know that united we stand, divided
we must fall. It may be a hard truth, but it re-
mains to be said that every disgraceful act of a
negro tends to disgrace his race. You cannot off-
set the crime of a black fiend by showing up a white
fiend. It will not cure matters to point the finger
of scorn at the five per cent. of white barbarians,
holding them up to public contempt. If we do
nothing more than this they will continue to slaugh-
ter the five per cent of worthless negro brutes. We
must realize now, if never before, that the white man
is not on trial before the bar of public opinion. The
white man has wrought out his civilization on the
anvil of intelligent industry and Christian manhood,
and a splendid civilization it is. Ours is to make a
civilization, or else we must perish in the fierce light
of the white man's civilization. Bear in mind, I


196 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
earnest activities. When our political ardor shall
have cooled, when our zeal for place shall give way
to useful living, the outlook for negro prosperity
will be encouraging.
“I do not, of course, advocate the repeal of the
Fifteenth Amendment. I do not believe in a sys-
tem of government which operates to disfranchise
a people on account of race, color or previous condi-
tion of servitude,-a system which is a manifest
evasion of the Federal Constitution. I do not be-
lieve in a property qualification as a pre-requisite
to voting. A man's value as a citizen should not
be made dependent upon the amount of property he
owns. If we can have an educational qualification,
so adjusted as to keep out the illiterate whites as
well as blacks, it will meet my approval. Massa-
chusetts measures up to the requirements of the
times.
“It is the negro's condition, and not his color, that
is keeping him down. The negro needs a peculiar
kind of education, not because of his color, but be-
cause of his condition. And the needs of the poor
colored man are the needs of the poor white man—
industrial training. Look with me over this town
and see our college and high school graduates loung-
ing about and waiting for dreams to ripen into
gold, or standing around with their hands in their
pockets, while the hoe is rusting in the field, and
the foreign laborer is filling the place we ought to


198 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
discussion of the evening. To say that he was de-
pressed in spirit and wounded in pride would but
feebly express the plight of our hero.
Toussaint now regarded Strother as a rival with
all that the word would signify. Strother had come
between him and his dearest ambition. He would
speak—this proud, imperious man—and make the
assemblage forget the presence and words of Stro-
ther. Merna should hear him, and the people judg-
ing aright would award the palm to him.
“The negro race,” said Toussaint, “cannot pros-
per so long as cant and hypocrisy, parading under
the mask of reform, is given a patient hearing. The
astounding argument has been made in your hear-
ing that the negro in order to succeed with the white
people must surrender his manhood, trample his bal-
lot in the dust, practice self-effacement until he can
march blindfolded to the rear. Let me say that I
am not here to kindle anew fires long since gone
out, fires whose lurid glare swept destruction to
countless homes in this great South. I prefer to
indulge pleasing recollections and fervent gratitude.
And yet, I must remind you that our freedom’ as
Frederick Douglass has said, came to us not from
any normal condition of things! It came at the cost
of blood and treasure. The ballot is the fruit of a
great struggle, and accursed be the hand that would
nullify, restrict or take it away. We are living in
a great age, in the midst of the enlightenments of


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 199
a splendid civilization. This is a wonder age, and
the most wonderful thing in it is, how an Afro-
American, before and Afro-American audience,
could, without blushing for shame, give expression
to the ridiculous things which you have just heard.
I have no patience with any man or set of men who
want to place the negro in the rear of white people,
—as though we are not fit to assume the burdens
and responsibilities of government. The slavish
fear which has come to some of us from 250 years
of bondage is well nigh passed away. But it is
said in some quarters that we are too weak to en-
force our rights. Let us then begin to gather
strength. Some day we will be organized and
strong. I only pray that when that day arrives we
may be treated fairly and accredited all our rights.
To-day we are not free, for no man is free who can-
not enjoy a free man's right. The negro of this
country is by the laws of God and man a citizen of
this country. He is taxed as a citizen and enrolled
as a soldier for the protection of state and nation,
and yet he is hunted down like a deer, while the
nation looks on powerless to help, and indifferent to
his fate.
“The mob holds full sway over the life and
liberty of the negro at the South. The Southern
whites say that the negro is a bad citizen. How
does it happen that he is so debased and despised
now? During the war, when the armies of the


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 203
felt partly responsible for the ills that had come to
his household and to the prisoner. Merna felt that
she should have apprised Mr. and Mrs. Burleigh of
the wayward conduct of Van Courtney as from
time to time she had learned of it through little
Bernice. This she regarded as her sin of omission,
which, to her way of thinking, was quite as serious
as one of commission.
Quite restless and disturbed in mind was she
when Toussaint called to see her on the day follow-
ing the Van Courtney trial. He reckoned that her
disturbed feelings were due to her sympathies
aroused by the severe punishment meted out to Van
Courtney. And thus he set about to criticise the
course pursued by Strother, who, he asserted, knew
absolutely nothing about the merits of the case, but
yet the State had convicted the prisoner upon his
testimony.
“Mr. Ripley, this is not the first time that you
have spoken to me of Mr. Strother, in a cruel and
vindictive spirit. I can tolerate it no longer. He
is my friend, and if he were not, I should condemn
your course. I do not wish to think less of you than
I now do, but your visits of late are calculated to
lessen, rather than increase, my regard, and I must
therefore beg that you do not further impose your
presence on me.”
Her speech was calm and dignified, but there
was a trace of sadness in it.


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 205
garet” had delivered her message to Toussaint, he
decamped most unceremoniously. Merna, poor girl,
sought refuge in the privacy of her room, where her
thoughts of the final meeting with Toussaint were a
fresh discomfiture for a weary and oppressed soul.
And thus we see that he had not only in-
jured his cause by cherishing an enmity for Strother
—a man who had never done him the least harm—
but he had in the process debased himself.
A man ought always and under all circumstances
to be generous to friend and foe, free from evil
speaking and evil thinking, thus holding his lower
nature in subjection to the higher one. No man can
be either good or great until he learns to govern
himself. A rash impulsive creature like Toussaint
is a constant menace to the peace of society—one
who would in a frenzy slay both friend and foe.
There is after all but one great thing in the world,
and that is love. There are many despicable things
in the world, but the worst is hate.
Let us return to Jack Dempsey, who, through
the influence of Swepsy, had secured employment
with Rev. Burleigh as a man of all work about his
home.
Clarissa after the trial of Van Courtney (against
whom she was loth to testify) was again at home
with her parents. They endeavored to persuade the
girl to continue with them, but she was quite fasci-
nated with the glare and glitter of city life,—so


212 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
CHAPTER XXIII.
F O U R Y E A R S L A T E R .
Four years had passed since the trial of Van
Courtney, and now he was returning to the home
of his parents, a pardoned man, but only a wreck
of his former self, for he was suffering from an in-
curable and fatal malady. A few weeks or months
at most and the struggle would be over.
Strother had taken the pains to write to Van
Courtney, soon after he reached his home, sending
him some wholesome reading matter, and making
a generous offer in which Merna united to assist
him in any way they could to regain his health.
Van Courtney wrote in reply: “I am, of course,
grateful to you for your kind offer to assist me, but
there is little that you could do for me now. The
truth is, I am in need of nothing which this world
has to give. I want no sacrifice made for me, be-
cause I merit none. I never made a sacrifice for
anybody or to any purpose in all my life; but some-
how I trust my worthless life may serve others as
an example—a danger signal, to keep off the track.


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 213
I hear that you are getting along nicely. I am glad
to know it. I have read in one of the papers which
you were good enough to send me that your alumi-
num cannon had been patented, and that you had
recently realized a handsome sum on your brain
investment. And this too reminds me how I
laughed when I heard of your contrivance, the sum-
mer we met at the lawn party. I am glad to hear
that you are now a successful farmer. But most
of all I am proud to know that you have wooed and
won such a sweet good woman as Merna Attaway.
You are indeed happily mated. Now I ought to
have started out with my congratulations instead of
my laments. But you will overlook everything, as
I am scarcely myself these days.”
In his modest way Strother had told Mr. Robbins,
his Washington employer, of his invention, and
the latter advised and helped him to secure a pa-
tent and afterwards a market for the article. It was
not very long before the young inventor had dis-
posed of all his right, title and interest in his can-
non to some speculator for a large amount of
money;—the purchaser believing that the invention
would be availed of by the government, in the war
already begun, between this country and the King-
dom of Spain.
And now all of Strother's premeditated plans
were changed, and thus he did not return to Wash-
ington and the study of the law, but remained at


214 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
home and attended the Southern Industrial Insti-
tute, pursuing the higher branches, and learning the
science of farming.
During these years Ralph Attaway had passed
away, devising all his property, and without reser-
vation, to his favorite niece.
That little summer school of bygone years had
proven helpful in more than one way, for the com-
panionship of labor on the part of Merna and
Strother, had wrought a mutual sympathy and a
community of interests which budded and blos-
somed into a happy consummation, namely, a mar-
riage, which occurred in the merry month of June,
just a year ago. Strother had brought his bride
South, and they had settled down, hard by the good
old town of H -
sk >k >k >k >k >k >k >k
Clarissa did not tarry at home long, and she was
soon followed by Jack Dempsey. A few months
thereafter, and they became man and wife. Clarissa
then set to work to fashion Jack after her own
sweet will, developing the field hand into a city
sport, in order that the pair—in the humble circles
in which they moved, could “get by,” as the street
gamin is wont to say. Fortunately for Jack he was
not difficult to fit, and his employer, who had a
warm spot for him, was disposed to keep his man
decked like a magnate in his cast-off garments.
But after a time Jack lost his job, and then he


218 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
my house, when they come from the picnic. But
she did not tell me. I heard about the Courtney
man from Mr. Strother. But I suppose that Wash-
ington girl was put out about not getting the fellow
that death cheated her out of ?”
“No; Miss Gay writes me that she now has a new
catch. She is engaged to a fellow that I know
quite well; he lives in these parts. I have my suspi-
cion that it is Toussaint Ripley.”
“I don’t know him,” remarked Swepsy, “but I
have heard tell of him.”
“There he stands now. He is the orator of the
day.”
“He’s a nice looking man. Call him over here.
No, hold on; he has already started this way, I
believe.” *
As Toussaint approached within speaking dis-
tance, Rev. Burleigh said: “Mr. Ripley, if you do
not already know Sister Swepsy, let me make you
acquainted with her.”
Toussaint bowed, and the two shook hands in
good old Southern style.
“I was talking about you just a moment ago,”
said Mr. Burleigh, addressing Toussaint.
“I hope it was complimentary, and yet I have
little reason to expect anything good nowadays.”
“Oh, yes, it was all good that was said,” returned
the minister.
“It was only this,
33
Swepsy hastened to say,


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 219
“Brother Burleigh said you was goin’ to get mar-
ried.” -
“Not exactly that,” interrupted Mr. Burleigh.
“Sister Swepsy and I were talking about Miss Ethel
Gay, and I remarked that I thought she and yourself
might be engaged—that was all.”
“No, sir; I am not making any new alliances.
I feel more inclined to seek divorcement this New
Year.”
“Then you must be married already,” laughed
the preacher.
“No, I am neither married nor given in marriage.
There are other divorcements, you must know, save
those from the marriage bond.”
“Well, let's have it—out with it.”
“The truth is, I am almost, if not altogether, a
Democrat to-day.”
“And you are a fool to-day.”
“Yes, my God, you are right, Brother Burleigh.
I ain’t got no use for a nigger Democrat. I hate
’um. If I had a husband who’d vote the Demo-
cratic ticket, I’d tar and feather him an’ run him
away from home.”
“But, my sister, you must not be so severe on our
friend.”
“You want the truth, don’t you? Well, there,
you got it.”
“Friend Ripley, I hope you will not preach that
sort of doctrine in your speech to-day.”


220 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
“I have no idea of trying to fasten my views upon
others—for the present, at least. Our people—the
masses, I mean—are slow to grasp an idea—that is,
they do not think. I realize that it will take time
to have them see things in their true light—things
which will make for the best interests of themselves
and their posterity. But, speaking for myself, and
myself alone, I feel as if I should this New Year's
day resolve to cut loose from the Republican party
and be divorced from it forever.”
“And why, may I ask?”
“Certainly you cannot ask me why, for you have
been accustomed to lament and bewail the status
of the negro in this country, which deplorable state,
you must confess, has been brought about by reason
of the fealty of the black man to the Republican
party, his vote being given solidly for that party
and against the Democratic party. The policy of
the Republican party is to-day being dictated by the
sons of the Abolitionists, who are an altogether
different set from the old-timers. For myself, I
should prefer a monarchy to a Republic governed
like ours. The negro would have nothing to lose
under a monarchy, but, on the other hand, he would
be on terms of perfect equality with all other sub-
jects.
“I say it is impossible to be an honest negro Dem-
ocrat in the South,” gesticulated the minister. “You
would vote with the Democrats for the nominee of


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 221
a Democratic primary, knowing at the time that
you have no voice in the primary which selected the
gandidate? I am a race man, and believe that we
would be taking a backward step to go outside the
Republican party to seek a remedy for the political
ills from which we suffer.”
“You speak as if all the Democrats are in the
South and confined to this State. I will admit that
there are some bad Democrats, as I well know there
are many bad Republicans. As the saying goes:
“It is a condition and not a theory that confronts us.”
I speak not of Democrats in this or that State, but
of Democrats as representatives of principles in the
nation. I would be a National Democrat, especially
when I call to mind the treatment I received at the
hands of Government officials in high places, some
two years ago, when I held a small appointment
under your Republican administration. Discourte-
sies and discriminations, invidious distinctions and
flagrant violations of the law were meted out to me
by my superiors solely on account of my color. I
only asked recognition according to position and
merit. They chose, however, to make my official
life a burden and my lot a hard one. Protests to
those immediately in charge of my work availed me
nothing. Finally, I brought the matter of my un-
fair treatment to the attention of the authorities at
Washington. There my papers were pigeon-holed,
no action ever having been taken in the matter. As


222 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
a rebuke for the protests I had filed against the in-
dignities heaped upon me, at the first opportunity
I was recommended for dismissal on a trumped-up
charge, and this ended my connection with the Gov-
ernment service.”
“Your experiences were a hardship to you per-
sonally, but they were hardly serious enough for you
to expect your race to renounce its allegiance to the
Republican party.”
“The soldiers and the band’s comin’ and I’m
gone,” interposed Swepsy, excitedly. In her eager-
ness to catch up with the crowd and follow in the
wake of the procession, she had forgotten to say
good-bye to her beloved minister.
“As I was saying,” remarked Rev. Burleigh, con-
fusedly, “no man should leave the Republican party
for a personal grievance.”
“Well, how about the murder of the negro post-
master at Lake City, and the infant in his wife's
arms? If Baker had been a white man his assas-
sins would have been hunted down and hanged, even
if their capture and conviction had drained the Na-
tional Treasury and called into service the detective
and armed force of the country. But, no, the Re-
publican administration is impotent—powerless, it
is said—to protect an official of the Government in
the discharge of his sworn duty. Is this, too, to be
regarded as merely a personal offense?”
“No, that was a National disgrace, and righteous-


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 223
ly to be deplored. Mark you, I am with you in
sympathy, and am grieved to my heart when I think
of our afflictions as a people, but let us not leave the
old ship—the Republican party—but stay aboard it.
‘Let us stand the storm; it won’t be long, we'll an-
chor by and by. This prejudice is God’s plan.
We have, after all, much to be thankful for. Let us
be thankful that we are not living in Africa, and
that we are not in other parts of the world, as
Armenians and Jews. Don’t try to get away from
your race. If you once join the Democratic party,
you will be alone, having no company at the South,
where you will most likely remain. Love your race,
for the white man will never, no, never, accept you
on terms of equality with himself.”
“I don’t want to get away from my race—I only
want to get away from the Republican party, with
its heartless sycophants North, and demagogues
South. The negro is a standing joke. He is the
plaything of every party and every section of the
country, merely because he does not exercise any
foresight with his ballot. McKinley could not have
been elected President in 1896 without the negro
vote. Maryland and Kentucky, West Virginia and
Ohio, California and Delaware, Rhode Island and
Connecticut were Republican by the grace of the
negro vote. So long as the negro will segregate and
remain together in a body, he will accomplish noth-
ing. Why should the negro in any respect be


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 225
through the surging mass of humanity that blocked
the entrance to the First Baptist Church.
Shortly after he had finished his speech, in which
he had been industriously sowing the seed of discord
between the races, Merna and Strother were at home
talking over plans whereby they hoped to improve
the material condition of their race by placing them
on a sure industrial footing.
What we call race prejudice had given Strother
little concern in a personal sense. The men who
looked down on him with scorn were to him objects
of genuine pity rather than contempt. He did noth-
ing to encourage enmity and create friction between
the races. His mind and energies were wedded to
a better service. He was no dreamer. He did not
indulge in vagaries. He had never been the slave
of despair, for on his forehead he bore the prophecy
of hope. Others might content themselves with
speculating and theorizing, but for himself there
was so much requiring instant performance. Labor
for others was his religion, and the greater the
problem the greater the blessing. Opportunities of
usefulness were serious matters with him, for he had
sense enough to know that his responsibility to his
God was in proportion to those opportunities. He
gathered all the forces he could about him, and
bound them captive to his chariot. While others
fretted and fumed about this and that “hard condi-
tion” he took the bit firmly between his teeth and


226 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
cheerily moved along up grade to his destiny. He
was ever on the defensive, never on the offensive.
And he won many a conflict with a stubborn foe
with silence and smiles—effective weapons. Once
only can it be charged to him that he rebuked any
man for his arrogance, and this was done good
naturedly. It happened in this way: An implaca-
ble “Buckra-man” had referred in sarcastic terms
to some white woman who attended the law school
where he had been a student.
“I reckon,” said his questioner, “them Yankee
women would set right close to you colored boys?”
“I was quite busy with my books when at school,”
replied Strother,” so much so that I did not give
any thought to sexes or colors. The presence of
white women did not disturb me. The truth is I
have no prejudice whatever on account of color.
A white woman is quite as good as a colored one,
that is, if she behaves herself.”
“Ah!” he stammered and then was silent, dazed
by the directness of the speech.
Strother at this time was thirty years of age, a
type of robust manhood, and having a mind richly
endowed. He was calm and self-contained, also
temperate in speech and action. He made no ene-
mies and he lost no friends. He was a paradox,
being reserved to the verge of coldness, and yet
none was more genial in his dealings with men.
He possessed the temperament of a genius, and the


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 22?
courage of a hero. I do not mean a hero in the
every-day acceptation of the word, but in its broader
and best sense, for he possessed in an eminent de-
gree the quality of self-concentration. His whole
aim seemed to be to fit himself more fully for the
discharge of his arduous duties—opportunities.
And in all that he did he adhered to the motto, “No
excellence without labor.” He did not court the
respect and confidence of men merely because it
might in some way be helpful to him. He was a
lover of men, and hence would grasp their hands
and help them when he could. His powers of use-
fulness, like those of the illustrious Lincoln, “Lay
most conspicuous in his moral purpose.” Wherever
he was known, men, regardless of creed, color or
party, honored and respected him for his manly
bearing.
Strother had come in from the Emancipation ex-
ercises, and, finding Merna perusing a book, crept
up behind her, and, surprising her with a kiss, in-
quired what she was reading.
“Let me read you these lines and you will, doubt-
less, recall the author,” she replied.
“The great problem is, after all, how shall one
grow in sympathy and tenderness and generosity
and consideration? How shall he feed on high
thoughts and noble aims? How shall he be swift
to discern and avail himself of those opportunities
for usefulness to others which are the best channels


232 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
the river's brink—trying to get away in small
boats.
“Those who are looking for trouble are getting,
I am afraid, more than they have bargained for. I
have pleaded with the mob, but all in vain. The
chief of police has also harangued the crowd, but
they refuse to hear us, calling us “nigger lovers.”
Your minister here wanted to say a word, but the
crowd threatened to wreak vengeance on him say-
ing that the political doctrines which he and Tous-
saint Ripley are disseminating were making negroes
saucy and indolent, and that he is partly responsible
for the crime of Jack Dempsey. Some Democratic
associates, also Republicans, have begged me to
bring you face to face with the crowd, for we all
believe that all classes and parties will give you a
hearing.”
“I am going with you, but I am sure that nothing
I can do will alter the purpose of a mob. They
don’t want to hear me; they want only poor Jack
Dempsey.”
Strother's visitors returning to the scene of the
great gathering gained may accessions on their
way, for it was supposed that he himself was the
criminal. The crowd instinctively fell back, open-
ing a way to the spot selected , for the lynching.
Rev. Burleigh dropped out of the ranks while the
mayor and his Democratic followers surrounding
and shielding Strother were hard pressed near a


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 233
wagon, placed against an electric pole which shed
its fitful glare on many an upturned face where “rea-
son had fled to brutish beasts.” Strother was lifted
bodily in the wagon where he without introduction
or ceremony said:
“Friends, I am here and against my will. I have
been pressed to come by our fellow citizens, includ-
ing the honorable mayor of our town.”
“We don’t want you, Strother,” shouted a voice.
“We want that other nigger.”
“Let him alone,” shouted another, “he's decent,
and behaves himself.”
“I am glad to hear you say that you don’t want
me,” continued Strother. “I am sincere—I would
not have come, but you know that the first duty of
a citizen is to obey the law, and obey those whom
you entrust to execute it. I know that I ought not
to be here at this late hour, unless, perhaps, I can
do some good; and I do not think that you should
be here either unless you can do some good. But
where is Jack Dempsey?”
“We'll have him here before morning, and have
him strung up,” came a voice in reply.
“I want to serve you now as I have always tried
to do. Let us be calm, if we would reason to-
gether. The law must be vindicated, and that with-
out delay. Now possess your souls in patience
until morning, and then if the officers of the law
do not bring the guilty to justice—that is all we


234 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
should ask—I will join any one, or all of you, and
together with your sergeant, under authority of law,
we will bring the fugitive to prison. I have every
assurance that his trial and punishment will be
swift and certain and ample to satisfy the ends of
justice.”
“We will wait another hour,” said the leader of
the mob.
“And I will wait with you,” replied Strother.
In the meantime, Strother, the mayor and his
followers went among the people doing effective
missionary work.
Nearly two hours had passed, but Jack Dempsey
had not been found, and the crowd began to dis-
perse. Strother, the police officers, and a few
others remained at their post, expecting any moment
the return of the searching party with their victim.
Morning came and Strother returned home, anx-
ious and perplexed as to the fate of Jack Dempsey.
It was near noon when Rev. Burleigh made the
discovery that the door leading to his study in the
church had been forced open. He immediately sus-
pected that Jack was secreted in the building. A
careful search found the poor fellow crouched in a
corner of the belfry tower.
This information the minister conveyed to Stro-
ther, who advised that Jack be turned over to the
sergeant, who would see to the prisoner's safe keep-


238 NEITHER BOND NOR FREE.
with his unnatural antipathy and resentment, and
there are Toussaint Ripleys and Asa Burleighs who
are doing far more mischief than good in the world.
And yet, after all, there is no serious friction be-
tween the whites and blacks of the South. And
the domineering spirit of the Anglo-Saxon is not
confined to the old slave master nor his son at the
South, but it obtains wherever they set foot. The
educated negro makes for peace, and his industrial
training is the sure foundation of future usefulness.
Let him then make friends with the people with
whom his destiny is involved. Let him divide in-
telligently in politics, but never rest content until
his ballot is counted as cast. The self-interest of
the whites—a ruling pasion with all men—will pro-
tect the ballot in the black hand when it becomes a
potent factor, determining, as the balance of power,
the authority of men in political affairs.
The negro boys and girls must be taught to en-
courage race enterprises, to emulate the worthy of
their race, to be charitable to the deserving around
them, and to hear and respond to the distant cry
of distress, whether it comes from flood, famine or
other pestilence. Let the children be taught to
work, to love and to think,-all these by good fath-
ers and mothers; and the present restless feeling will
give place to useful living, not in the North, but
here in the South, where race problems will then


NEITHER BOND NOR FREE. 239
be seen as race blessings, for these make opportu-
nities—God's choicest gifts.
“Opportunities fly in straight lines,
They touch us but once and never return,
But the evil we do goes in circles,
And returns to the place from which it started.”
THE END.