LIBRARY 
 
 TY OF 
 

 
 
NICHOLAS BLOOD 
 
 CANDIDATE 
 
 BY 
 
 ARTHUR HENRY 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 liver 2>oDt>, fmbltsber 
 
 JUDGE BUILDING 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
COPYRIGHT, 1890, 
 
 BY 
 ARTHUR HENRY; 
 
Nicholas Blood, Candidate. 
 
 A PROPHECY. 
 
 I. 
 
 DOES anybody doubt, that America has 
 among her possibilities a Reign of Terror? 
 
 " What ! In this peaceful age ? 
 
 " Our land is like the sun, whose rising 
 dissipates the darkness of the world." 
 
 Sir, we have 8,000,000 children of the night 
 among us, and, like the shadows of a dark 
 and stormy night, they spread swiftly. 
 
 They multiply while we sleep. 
 
 Let us look at them. 
 
II. 
 
 EARLY one morning, just before the great 
 negro riots in Tennessee, a tall, fine-looking 
 stranger entered the Peabody Hotel, Mem- 
 phis, and registered to the name of Thomas 
 Judd. 
 
 The clerk glanced casually at him, and knew 
 at once that he was a Northerner. 
 
 There was not a menial in the house but 
 saw the word North written in his face, upon 
 his clothes and bearing. 
 
He showed them every consideration : they 
 responded with contempt. At the door of 
 the dining-room he answered the salutation 
 of the head waiter, who upon the instant ex- 
 changed his manner of deference for one of 
 superiority. 
 
 " Fine weather we're having, for winter," 
 said Thomas Judd. 
 
 The waiter thrust a bill-of-fare before him 
 and did not reply. Thomas Judd glanced up 
 and smiled. 
 
 The waiter looked sturdily at the opposite 
 wall with an expression of disgust upon his 
 stolid face. 
 
 Thomas Judd dropped his eyes to the card 
 and began: 
 
 " Hot rolls, if you please." 
 
 '-Jus' out o' hot rolls, sah." 
 
 " Well, biscuits will do. Biscuits and " 
 
 "Yo's heah too late fo' biscuit." 
 
 "Bread, then; you've that, haven't you?" 
 
 " Yes, sah; plenty bread." 
 
While he was giving the rest of his order a 
 portly, white-haired old gentleman entered, 
 and Thomas Judd, looking up, saw him shown 
 obsequiously to a seat at his table. He was 
 a mild, benevolent-looking old man, with wav- 
 ing hair, plump cheeks, double chin, and con- 
 tented eyes. He paid no attention whatever 
 to the head waiter, but, taking the menu card 
 into his soft, white hands, looked it slowly 
 over, and mentioned from time to time in 
 well modulated accents what he would like. 
 The head waiter listened attentively with his 
 sable whiskers about a foot above the old gen- 
 tleman's ear. When the order was given, he 
 suggested a brace of quail. 
 
 " Well, Pedro, I will add some quail." 
 The darkey straightened himself quickly, 
 summoned a waiter, gave him the order, and 
 told him to rush it through. It was not long 
 before a steaming breakfast was brought, and 
 Thomas Judd observed his neighbor's elabo- 
 rate preparations to enjoy it, while he played 
 
with his fork and still waited. Finally he lost 
 patience, and attempted to attract attention 
 to himself. 
 
 " Have you not been served ?" asked his 
 neighbor courteously. 
 
 "'I have not. I gave my order thirty min- 
 utes ago." 
 
 The old gentleman laid down his fork 
 and snapped his fingers. Instantly half 
 the waiters in the hotel were at his 
 side. 
 
 " Come here, Dom Pedro. Damn your black 
 skin! send the nigger that's waiting on this 
 gentleman here." 
 
 There was immediate commotion and the 
 fellow was found. 
 
 " Here, you black rascal, what are you 
 about ? Bring this gentleman's order. See 
 here, damn you! Find him some quail." 
 
 The waiter vanished like a shot, and when 
 he returned there was a plate of hot rolls on 
 his tray. 
 
" You must swear at them," said the old 
 gentleman, jocularly, as he resumed his break- 
 fast. 
 
 Thomas Judd discovered that his acquaint- 
 ance was a planter, and the planter discovered 
 that Thomas Judd came South to buy timber- 
 land. 
 
III. 
 
 DIRECTLY after dinner Thomas Judd left 
 the Peabody for a walk and turned without 
 any hesitation from Main Street up Monroe, in 
 the direction of the river. He had hardly 
 stepped around the corner, before a succession 
 of sharp explosions like the sound of .burst- 
 ing torpedoes caused him to look about. As 
 he did so he saw in the middle of the street 
 one of the happiest and handsomest specimens 
 that he had ever seen of the happiest and 
 laziest race on earth. 
 
10 
 
 He was a tall and agile darkey standing on a 
 chunky two-wheeled dray, his long legs spread 
 out at an angle of forty-five degrees, his huge 
 feet encased in a boot one-half of whose top 
 had been cut away, and a shoe, stringless, 
 gaping, and tied on with a rag. His clothes 
 were a picturesque collection of tatters. A 
 greasy slouch hat crushed out of all possible 
 shape, with flopping brim, rested on his glossy 
 kinks so as to nearly cover his right ear and 
 his huge domestic bump. His face was like 
 a black sun. Every muscle was acting under 
 the impulse of an inexhaustible animal life. 
 His eyes rolled continually, his broad nose was 
 pulled from side to side with the contortions 
 of his huge mouth, his cheeks shone, and every 
 wrinkle of his face laughed. In one hand he 
 held the reins and in the other a whip whose 
 long leather lash he sent in swift, writhing 
 motions from the ears of his leader to its full 
 length behind him, bringing it up at each end 
 with a load crack. These were the rapid sue- 
 
II 
 
 cession of sounds that attracted Thomas J udd's 
 notice. Just as he was passing their eyes met. 
 Seeing, no doubt, the look of lively curiosity 
 given him, the negro brought his head sudden- 
 ly forward, gave a spasmodic flop to his legs, 
 humped his back, stuck out his elbows, stif- 
 fened his neck, dropped his huge jaw, exposed 
 the whites of his eyes, and swinging on the 
 reins for a moment in this attitude, he favored 
 Judd with a yet broader grin. It was for an 
 instant only, then, becoming suddenly limber, 
 he burst into an uproarious, juicy laugh, and 
 with a loud crack of his long whip, clattered 
 away. His dray was empty, but it was evident 
 from the alacrity of his pace that he was not 
 now bound for another load. He went to the 
 end of the block to Front Street, and leaving 
 Monroe, which here cut through the bluffs 
 down to the levee, turned to the left and 
 dashed with a flourish into the midst of a mass 
 of wagons and teams. He had reached a 
 large common overlooking the river, situated 
 
12 
 
 between the edge of the bluffs and the tumult- 
 uous market street of Memphis. This com- 
 mon is the visiting " niggers' " restaurant, for 
 men and mules. It is also their Board of 
 Trade. 
 
 11 Hyr dah, you obstrepus black nigger ; 
 pramulate from fo' de progress of dees yer 
 mules hyr dah ! hyr dah ! Hyr, lo' Unc' 
 Samson," he cried, first in a loud, oratorical 
 tone to a group of darkies discussing politics, 
 and then in a cordial voice as he recognized 
 an old friend. Presently he found himself in 
 a bewildering entanglement of wagon wheels, 
 mules, and chattering darkies. It was impos- 
 sible to go further. His leader was astride a 
 wagon-tongue, and his shaft mule was content- 
 edly helping himself from a basket of parsnips 
 in the hind end of a neighboring cart. A 
 Yankee under these circumstances would 
 have given vent to a good-natured oath or 
 two, and calmly made the most of it. But not 
 so our darkey. He gave a leer in the direction 
 
of the parsnips, rolled his head about for a 
 moment, and fixing his eyes on one of the 
 group in front of him, cracked his whip with- 
 in an inch of his ear and said, addressing the 
 startled darkey in a tone of solemn deliberation, 
 and producing during the course of his har- 
 angue all the possible notes of a trombone : 
 
 " Now, jes yo' look eyah, Nebcadnezzar 
 Jones ; ef you don' remove yo'se'f from fo' 
 my mules, I'll jes' sho's Col. Gabril goin t' 
 blow ees horn in de mo'ne I'll discompose 
 yo' high flootin in de interiah ob dis yeah 
 leader sho's yo're " 
 
 While rolling his eyes by way of emphasis 
 to this solemn threat, there came into view 
 a big pink sun-bonnet, in whose cavernous 
 depths lurked the whites of a pair of large 
 eyes, an inquisitive nose, and a mouth between 
 the smiling lips of which shone two rows of 
 remarkably white teeth. The orator stopped 
 in the midst of his sentence, looked suddenly 
 foolish, and presumably blushed. 
 
It was the i8th day of December, and hot. 
 The men were without coats, and the mules 
 were damp with sweat. The grass on the 
 Common was brown and dry. Dust covered 
 the boots of all. In the centre of the circle, 
 directly in front of where our darkey stopped, 
 a little nondescript Jew was selling goods. 
 His basket was placed on an empty box. 
 Between it and individuals of his audience he 
 ran continually, offering his goods in an im- 
 petuous manner and talking through his 
 nose. 
 
 It was a ridiculous sight this circle of 
 negroes of all sizes, kinds, and degrees of 
 raggedness, that stood staring stupidly at the 
 impetuous little Jew. Gaudy silk handker- 
 chiefs, many-colored suspenders, brass jewelry, 
 and perfumery were brandished in their faces. 
 There was not one in the crowd but that had 
 his pockets stuffed with every conceivable 
 thing that a Jew could offer him. Jock did 
 not escape ; he had scarcely joined the circle 
 
before he was persuaded into buying a hand- 
 ful of worthless things. 
 
 Holding them awkwardly in his great hands, 
 he took his way to the wagon where the sun- 
 bonnet was. 
 
 " How-dy, J'mimy?" he said, lifting his 
 head and looking rather sheepishly into the 
 face above him. 
 
 Darkies, in their conversation, sing. There 
 is a minor sadness to every tone. They may 
 be superstitious and ignorant; but their voices 
 are like ancient harps. When they speak 
 it is like obscenity put to the Te Deum. It is 
 as though a bobolink had talked slang. 
 
 " 'Llo, Jock ; wah'd yo' come from? I 
 'lowed yo's dead ; I reckon'd' debil cotched 
 yo' b'fo de Lo'd, I did." 
 
 The sentence flowed from her mouth,, one 
 word into another, like the molecules of some 
 strange, melodious water. Still holding awk- 
 wardly the trinkets in one hand,, with the 
 other he shoved his crumpled hat still further 
 
on the back of his head, and looking every- 
 where -but into her eyes, he said, with a fool- 
 ish grin playing over his good-natured face: 
 
 " Oh, I's still heah. I's jes gwine by 'n I 
 seed you. How's you all, J'mimy ?" 
 
 " Tol'able." 
 
 After a moment's silence, in which Jemimy 
 looked at her hands and Jock stood leaning 
 his elbows on the top of the wagon - box, 
 Jemimy continued: 
 
 " Reckon yo' done stopped comiri' to ou' 
 place." 
 
 He straightened his back, and said with 
 more self-assurance than before : 
 
 " Oh, I bin powerfu' busy dis yeah week. 
 I bin contained away. I couldn't get no time, 
 nohow." 
 
 "You bin fool'n' roun' some nigger gal. 
 But you kain't worry me. Dey's heaps mo' 
 fellers come t' see me." 
 
 " See yeah, J'mimy, wha' I done got yo'." 
 
 He tossed the trinkets into her lap. 
 
" Go 'long. What I gwi' do 'd dis yeah 
 truck ? Yo' be'er bring me sump'in pur' fine 
 when yo' come out to on' place." 
 
 " Reckon yo's mahty raspin'. I don't guess 
 I'll go out yo' place." . * 
 
 "Now, jes' yo' look a yeah, you sassy 
 nigger, you isn' 'bleeged to." 
 
 " Whee-ee-ee-yah sho' nuff, I ain't." 
 
 When the noon hour was over, Jock liber- 
 ated his mules from their surroundings and 
 drove to the levee. 
 
r'8 
 
 IV. 
 
 The levee! 
 
 How impossible it is to describe this tumult- 
 uous scene. From the bluffs to the water's 
 edge is an immense inclined plane of granite 
 paving-stones. In the centre, about two hun- 
 dred feet from the bluffs, runs a wide road 
 the entire length of the levee and disappears 
 among the compress factories and oil mills, 
 whose great bulks and tall chimneys appear 
 in the distance. Between this road and the 
 
bluffs the levee is nearly level ; from here to 
 the river it is a steep descent. Above the 
 road there is little moving. On it come and 
 go continually a swift stream of cotton loads- 
 and empty drays and great piles of small 
 cargo to and from local jobbing houses ; 
 below it there is during busy hours a con- 
 glomerate mass of drays, mules, cotton bales, 
 sacks of cotton seed, darkies, and all sorts of 
 freight. Beyond is the long row of steamers 
 that line the shore, and in the background 
 sweep the waters of the Mississippi. 
 
 The centre of activity upon this day was 
 the "Big Sandy," a large boat of the Mem- 
 phis and Cincinnati line, that had just arrived, 
 bringing a cargo of two thousand cotton 
 bales, that had been picked up along the river, 
 north. A huge pile of boxes and furniture 
 and bags of cotton seed were being carried, 
 one piece at a time, by a long stream of lazy 
 darkies over the gang-plank into the bowels 
 of the big boat. These same laborers, re- 
 
20 
 
 turning by way of the stage plank at the 
 prow, rolled before them the cotton bales 
 and piled them in rows some distance up the 
 levee. The whole transaction was stamped 
 with the seal of this easy-going South. The 
 laborers all possessed the slouchy " nigger 
 gait." Above the din of wheels rumbling 
 over the rough pavement, drivers shouting 
 to their stupid mules, escaping steam, shrill 
 whistles, the loading and unloading of freight, 
 could be heard for a great distance the bel- 
 lowing of the overseers, who are, as a rule, 
 unusually active darkies, with monstrous 
 lungs and an inexhaustible supply of big 
 words ; who howl terribly without taking 
 breath, brandish sticks, wave their arms, 
 stamp their feet, and make startling lunges 
 in all directions, threatening the idle, cursing 
 the active, bluffing the bystanders, and adding 
 prodigiously in every way to the tumult of the 
 scene without otherwise affecting it. Regard- 
 less of these busybodies that buzzed about 
 
21 
 
 them like great gnats, the darkies shuffled here 
 and there, rolling, with shiftless motions and 
 with more rests than efforts, the cotton bales. 
 
 With the other noises mingled frequently 
 snatches of song and the musical laughter of 
 these lazy fellows. 
 
 When Jock and his mules reached the scene 
 there was nothing for them to do. Their con- 
 signment of cotton was not yet unloaded. He 
 lifted his head and looked mechanically about 
 him. A few yards back, the overseer was 
 shouting frantically to his men. The stream 
 of laborers was passing to and fro. The 
 heavy bales were being tumbled into place or 
 rolled upon the drays that constantly backed 
 into position to receive them. Mules were 
 straining every muscle to pull the heavy loads 
 up hill, beating their iron shoes and slipping 
 frightfully in their attempts to find a pur- 
 chase on the hard pavement. As he looked, 
 one of these animals stumbled, struggled to 
 his feet, strained against the backward move- 
 
ment of the dray, slipped, lost the footing of 
 his fore-feet entirely, and with a heavy lurch, 
 fell upon his knees. He could not rise ; his 
 leg was broken. Jock was startled for a 
 moment, saw the crowd gather, knew the 
 beast would be killed and hauled away, and 
 then he forgot it. He observed listlessly the 
 teams moving slowly along the road above ; 
 some of the drivers half asleep, others shout- 
 ing to their mules and joking with whomever 
 they met, and here and there a very old one, 
 swaying slowly back and forth, and singing at 
 the top of his feeble voice remnants of plan- 
 tation songs. 
 
 Jock pushed his way through the outer 
 circle of idle carts and among the bursting 
 cotton bales, the soft contents of which pro- 
 truded from countless holes like white breasts 
 eager for the lips of humanity. 
 
 Thousands of tons had been shipped away, 
 thousands more were packed within the ware- 
 houses and compress factories, thousands lay 
 
upon the levee, a swarm of huge boats, creak- 
 ing with their burden, lined the shore, and for 
 a hundred miles others were panting hither 
 freighted with a monstrous offering for the 
 commerce of the world. Little white flakes 
 attached themselves as quickly as sly kisses 
 to Jock's clothes as he passed among the bales 
 to where the overseer, standing near the stage 
 plank, was dancing about, very much in the 
 way of everybody, and bawling himself hoarse 
 in order that his " niggers " might not sleep. 
 He stopped long enough to glance savagely at 
 Jock, who asked for work, and, recognizing 
 him, he shouted, very glad to get him : 
 
 ''Get along, yo' dam black niggah ; I won' 
 hav no reconnoitern roun' heah. Promulgate 
 yo'se'f among these yeer niggahs and wo'k 
 wo'k I say I hain't go'n' to favo'nobod'; yo' 
 all go' wo'k." 
 
 Jock stepped along the levee to where a 
 great pile of cotton meal was slowly disap- 
 pearing. He waited his turn, and receiving 
 
upon his thick head and huge shoulders one 
 of the bilious-looking bags, he fell into line 
 and shuffled with the rest over the gang plank 
 through the wharf boat, and into the yawning 
 recesses of the " Big Sandy." 
 
 The Mississippi packets are a law unto 
 themselves. There are none like them in the 
 world. They are picturesque and ungainly- 
 looking, but are exactly suited to their pur- 
 pose. They are exceedingly light, and built 
 so as to cover as much water as possible. 
 There is no room for cargo below the surface, 
 for these reasons it is possible to carry great 
 loads even when the river is low. These boats 
 have one, and sometimes two light galleries 
 encircling them. In the interior, hidden from 
 view, the long, narrow parlor and dining-room 
 runs down thecentre. At the stern is the kitchen 
 and laundry, concealed from the outside on 
 some boats by an open lattice. If watching 
 from the levee, you will sometimes see a mon- 
 strous woman, as fat as a goose and as black as 
 
a kettle, hanging up clothes to dry on one of 
 these galleries at the stern. If somewhat hand- 
 some yourself, and in uncommonly good luck, 
 you may see a pair of glowing quadroon eyes 
 peering at you from behind the slats. 
 
 To see one of these boats, well loaded, com- 
 ing toward you down the stream, with all the 
 galleries overflowing with boxes and bed- 
 clothes, with chicken-coops and all sorts of 
 furniture, with kitchen utensils, hoop skirts, 
 boots, and wash-basins hanging from every 
 post and peg and peering from every crevice, 
 you might easily suppose that here was some 
 unfortunate family whose house, uprooted and 
 deformed by a flood, was floating helplessly 
 toward the Gulf. 
 
 Jock, as he joined the laborers, became at 
 once a part of the surroundings. He bent his 
 knees, he swung his arms, and dragged his 
 feet as he shuffled in line with the rest. 
 
 The conversation to-day was of an uncom- 
 monly serious order, and had great interest. 
 
26 
 
 Whenever the men were sufficiently far enough 
 away from the overseer, and for a moment un- 
 observed, they gathered in eager groups, and 
 with faces as wise as owls listened, while he 
 who got under way first expounded in an un- 
 dertone upon the case in hand, with many ges- 
 ticulations and the occasional slap of one 
 broad foot. 
 
 The question of to-day was politics. The 
 city of Memphis was about to elect a new 
 President of the Council, and the negroes had 
 a candidate. 
 
 The government of Memphis is unlike that 
 of any other city. 
 
 In the worthy Mayor and a few of his 
 
 chosen among the city officials, becoming tired 
 of an honest life, or it may be having grown 
 weary of small thefts and anxious to attempt 
 something worthy of their stuff, issued a large 
 amount of municipal paper, and put the pro- 
 ceeds into their own pockets. But the citi- 
 zens not being able to appreciate brains of 
 
this sort, and not able to convict the rogues, 
 refused to pay the debt, tendered to the State 
 its charter, and became a tax-paying district, 
 which it has remained until this day, without 
 the power to issue bonds, and running its' 
 business strictly on a cash basis. The City 
 Council is composed of two Fire and Police 
 Commissioners, a Board of Public Works, and 
 a School Board, each composed of three men. 
 The Fire and Police Commissioner who heads 
 the ticket is President of the Council and tax- 
 paying district. For eight years held 
 this position, and in the course of time be- 
 came practically the only man in the city. A 
 quarrel over the rights of a street-car com- 
 pany led to an eruption, and the general dis- 
 satisfaction felt for some time against this one 
 man's rule took occasion to vent itself. The 
 consequence was an unprecedented split in 
 the Democracy of Memphis. 
 
 In the midst of the confusion which imme- 
 diately followed upon the opening of the con- 
 
28 
 
 test, a terrible thing appeared. It was a 
 "nigger" candidate. The convention that had 
 nominated him was like the unseen gathering 
 of a great black cloud. The nomination fell 
 like a thunder-bolt. The man was one 
 Nicholas Blood. He was known only among 
 the negroes, and by them he was called 
 " Old Nick," or " Black Bill," or sometimes 
 "Blood," a name given him by his fellows 
 for he knew neither father nor mother be- 
 cause of the streaks in his eyes and the fero- 
 ciousness of his disposition. 
 
 The election law of Memphis compels the 
 appearance of the names of all candidates upon 
 one ticket. The appearance of that name was 
 like the hand-writing on the wall, and those 
 who read, trembled. Timid people looked 
 askance at the dumb letters as at the eyes of 
 a serpent glistening on them from the way- 
 side. Many there were who read and tore the 
 name in two with fierce oaths and savage 
 frowns. 
 
All day long a peculiar-looking and exceed- 
 ingly ill-favored darkey shouldered his meal 
 bags just in front of Jock, and rolled at the 
 cotton bales by his side. His figure was short 
 and massive, his broad back was always stoop- 
 ing, his brutal head was bent, and when he 
 looked up a pair of bloodshot eyes, dull, were 
 it not for a certain brutal brightness, glowed 
 from beneath a pair of heavy brows. 
 
 Two white men stood by the open door of 
 the wharf-boat within a few feet of the stream 
 of laborers, who passed constantly over a 
 plank which led from this place to the boat 
 they were loading. One of these, the presi- 
 dent of a large steamer line company that 
 owned this wharf-boat, was short, with a well- 
 rounded stomach, small eyes, and a very 
 shrewd face. The other was Judge Rector, 
 the Democratic candidate for the city's 
 chief office. His features were large and 
 his face, not very full, was marked with 
 lines of strength. He wore no beard. His 
 
iron -gray hair was covered by a wide- 
 brimmed soft hat, such as many Southern 
 gentlemen wear. He was gazing earnestly 
 from his deep gray eyes down upon his com- 
 panion and speaking of this new and start- 
 ling situation. 
 
 " It is the beginning," he said, slowly, as 
 though intending to say more ; then he stop- 
 ped as though that were sufficient. 
 
 " Yes," replied the other, briskly. " It is the 
 beginning but of what ?" 
 
 "That," replied the first, "is. more easily 
 thought about than expressed." 
 
 After a moment's silence he continued, with 
 a flash of energy in his face and movement. 
 
 " Why, sir, if these fellows should gain con- 
 trol of finances and affairs they would spend 
 our money among themselves like water; they 
 would pass laws against labor; schools would 
 be replaced by bawdy houses and gambling 
 hells; they would build jumping-jacks by way 
 of public improvement; manufactories would 
 
be left to labor for themselves, and our only 
 industry would in time be that of child-bear- 
 ing" 
 
 As he spoke, he stepped back, and coming 
 suddenly into contact with a passing negro, 
 was very nearly thrown into the river. 
 
 Had Jock followed the example of his pre- 
 decessor, such would have been the case. He 
 stopped until the old gentleman could recover 
 himself and step out of the way, then passed 
 on. 
 
 " That was a trifle more roughly done than 
 necessary, was it not, Mr. Trask ?" 
 
 "I reckon so, Judge ; but you can't prove 
 it, and the discharge of a nigger for a thing 
 like that would be made a heap of just 
 now." 
 
 Both gentlemen had retired a short distance 
 from the door to continue their conversation; 
 and the Judge, as he talked or listened, ob- 
 served occasionally with mild attentiveness the 
 faces of the men as they passed. 
 
"True," he said, in his usual thoughtful 
 manner; " it is this notoriety that ruins them." 
 
 " Yes," interrupted Mr. Trask, crisply, " I 
 know. I used to be a Northerner was a blue 
 coat, and when a young man I ran an aboli- 
 tion newspaper in Pennsylvania. Before the 
 war I cursed you, and you deserved it then. 
 After the war I called you bloodthirsty 
 lords and damned tyrants. I used to hold up 
 the poor colored brethren to view as an op- 
 pressed and lamb-like race. That's just the 
 trouble by God! they're the pet of all those 
 that love to preach and know nothing about 
 them. But if those who say most had these 
 fellows among them and their beautiful cities 
 honeycombed with their huts, and their com- 
 merce smothered with a weight of shiftless 
 labor, they would, as I have learned to do, see 
 the situation differently, and kick against it 
 like the devil." 
 
 "That was the man," said the Judge,, look- 
 ing closely at the darkies in the line. 
 
33 
 
 "Yes has a bad face." 
 
 The man commented upon gave them a 
 look of stupid ferocity as he passed. His eyes 
 for the moment glowered with a sullen anger 
 that is sometimes seen in old, ijl-natured dogs.' 
 They fell before the mild, superior gaze of the 
 Judge. For something to do he projected from 
 his great coarse lips a stream of tobacco juice. 
 
 "Not because I hate the niggers for their 
 ignorance and depravity it is not their fault; 
 but, by God ! they must not govern us simply 
 because they can breed faster then we. What 
 we are to do with them,! cannot tell. This 
 whole country is kept back by their shift- 
 lessness. Look how they walk like snails. 
 Each one has with him the smallest load that 
 he can find. We cannot use machinery, for they 
 break it ; and to have our work done by hand, 
 as it is done throughout all the South, is to 
 wait for it." 
 
 He talked, not to teach all this to his list- 
 ener, but simply to ease his mind, as every one 
 
34 
 
 was doing now. As Jock came through the 
 boat again the Judge stepped forward, took 
 him by the arm and drew him from the line. 
 
 "Who is the fellow in front of you?" he 
 asked, indifferently. 
 
 "Hees name's Black Bill, sah." 
 
 " His other name is Nicholas Blood, is it 
 not ?" 
 
 " O Lor' no, hees name jes' Black Bill, 
 nuffin mo', jes' Black Bill." 
 
 " Um , I thought so," said the Judge, as he 
 allowed Jock to pass on. 
 
 "Trask," he continued, turning toward his 
 friend with a grave face, " I have met the 
 enemy." 
 
 About an hour later Black Bill was paid off 
 and discharged. He left his work without a 
 word, and shuffling his unshapely shoes down 
 to the river's edge, took off his hat, laden with 
 the grease of years and moist with sweat, 
 swept away the slops that were floating by, 
 and, dipping it full of water, drank. Shaking 
 
35 
 
 the drops from it, he placed it on his head and 
 left the levee. 
 
 Judge Rector, standing upon the edge of- 
 the wharf-boat, watched him until lost in the 
 confusion below. 
 
 The Judge was absorbed and did not notice 
 the disorderly rush all about him until his at- 
 tention was caught by an accident. 
 
 A small dray, heavily loaded, was moving 
 slowly up the hill. A sudden jolt dislodged one 
 of the bales, and immediately the whole load 
 came rolling off. The driver, howling and 
 terribly frightened, was squeezed ia between 
 two heavy bales. 
 
 The Judge, thinking the fellow might be 
 really in danger, started forward, but saw, 
 to his surprise, a well-dressed and distin- 
 guished-looking gentleman, who had been 
 standing near, step forward, and without 
 assistance, lift one monstrous bundle after 
 the other and set them to one side. The 
 liberated darkey scrambled to his feet, and, 
 
with the aid of two others, reloaded the dray. 
 The stranger brushed the dust from his hands 
 and knees, looked up and exclaimed : 
 
 ''Judge Rector ! v 
 
 "Why, I ought to know you, sir/' cried the 
 Judge, as he grasped his hand. " You are 
 Thomas Judd." 
 
 Both men were of the same height and very 
 tall. Both had large proportions. The North- 
 erner was younger, not more than twenty-six 
 years old, and more robust. His head, too 
 was unusually large and covered by a rather 
 shaggy mass of hair that added to the rug- 
 gedness of his appearance. Their eyes were 
 alike in their quality of great depth. Judd's 
 were darker, brighter, more active, eager and 
 alive. Those of the Judge were more benign. 
 
 "It must have strained you," said the Judge, 
 anxiously, nodding at the cotton bales. 
 
 "Not at all/' laughed Judd. "I've just 
 come out of a lumber camp and am suffering 
 for a little exercise." 
 
37 
 
 " Why, Tom, it must be ten years since I 
 have seen you since that winter up there in 
 the woods. And your father?" asked the 
 Judge, as they walked on, " I'd like to see your 
 father. When I knew him he was a fine 
 specimen of a man." 
 
 ''Yes, he's pretty hard to handle now," 
 laughed Judd, "when he gets the under 
 hold." 
 
 " I remember, you couldn't do much with 
 him then. You were just big enough then 
 to brag safely. But your father, Tom, does he 
 remember me ?" 
 
 "Yes, indeed. Just before I came away he 
 showed me a terribly battered pair of boxing 
 gloves that you used to knock each other 
 down with " 
 
 " Well, we did use each other pretty roughly. 
 You see " the Judge took his companion's 
 arm "that was about the first let up I'd had 
 since my college days, and I forgot for one 
 whole winter just how old I was." 
 
Thomas Judd looked covertly at the grave, 
 kind face of the Judge, at his hair just 
 touched with gray, at his stately bearing, 
 and felt a sort of pride in the hand upon his 
 arm. 
 
 "I should have called to-morrow." 
 
 " That'll not do, Tom; you must come and 
 stay " 
 
 "No " 
 
 " Let's have no excuses ; you must come. 
 Why, Tom, what did you expect to do ? You 
 must come with me now 
 
 " No, no, Judge ; wait until to-morrow, any 
 way. Fact is my baggage hasn't come " 
 
 " Never mind your baggage, we'll " 
 
 " No, Judge, not until to-morrow, I beg of 
 you." 
 
 He hesitated a moment, and then asked: 
 
 " How is the little girl I used to go coast- 
 ing with ?" 
 
 "Annie? She's quite a woman now. So 
 you remember her?" 
 
39 
 
 " Yes; I did not wish to forget," he answered. 
 
 "Well, that was a fine winter for us both. 
 She often speaks of her big play-fellow." 
 
 After a moment's silence the Judge said, 
 with a quiet laugh : 
 
 " Are you as rampant a negro champion as 
 ever ?" 
 
 " Ah, Judge, you've hit a vital point there. 
 I confess I'm as much interested, though not 
 so hot-headed. I am open to conviction. 
 Fact is, I don't know much about the actual 
 situation, only by hearsay and the newspapers. 
 I believe the negro is the greatest problem of 
 America, but I know very little of him." 
 
 "I will introduce you to him," said the 
 Judge, smiling gravely. " Will you be at 
 leisure to-night?" 
 
VI. 
 
 IT was Saturday. Jock's spirits, which had 
 been rapidly rising all the afternoon, were un- 
 commonly high as he left the levee at the 
 close of his day's work, with his money mak- 
 ing merry music as he walked. He had a 
 " right smart " of it in his pocket. He would 
 send some of it to his mother ; he would buy a 
 "heap" of things for the holidays enough to 
 fill even Jemimy's plump stockings. Then 
 he would have enough left to get " powerful 
 
happy," if not quite drunk, on Christmas Day. 
 With these encouraging reflections he drove 
 his mules to the stable, and went as quickly 
 as was consistent with his loose gait to the 
 slop-shop where he boarded. This was a place 
 so terrible and reeking with such vile odors 
 that I am forced to hold my nose while writ- 
 ing of it. 
 
 It was a little one-story shanty, not more 
 than seven feet high, that had been squeezed 
 into a narrow space between two larger build- 
 ings. Upon one side was a pawn-shop and 
 second-hand clothing store, where dry-goods, 
 boots and shoes, and groceries, crockery and 
 beer were sold by half a dozen families of 
 Italian Jews. Upon the other side was a 
 barber-shop, run by a fat and voluble black 
 woman. Joined to this little shanty at the 
 eaves, was the wide porch that overshadowed 
 the entire street, so that the filth of its front 
 was left in comparative obscurity. Opening 
 into it from the street, was a low, narrow 
 
door, that caused Jock to stoop as he passed 
 through, and a small window ; no light came 
 through this, however, because on the inside 
 it was coated thickly with greasy steam, and 
 on the outside with mud. Upon the one hand 
 the large striped post of the barber -shop 
 hugged the door casing, and upon the other 
 a spotted dress skirt, a dozen or more faded 
 wraps and shawls, and a pair of discolored 
 breeches hung from a wooden support so as 
 to nearly hide the window. Within, there 
 was not more than room for a tall man to 
 stand without bumping his head against the 
 plastering which, lined with large cracks and 
 hanging loosely, threatened to come down all 
 at once instead of by piece-meal as it was doing. 
 This w r ould have happened long ago, were it 
 not for the savory incense of fat pork and the 
 lard in which the potatoes were cooked, that 
 constantly ascended thither, and, with its 
 sticking qualities, held it together. There 
 was just width enough for the counter in the 
 
43 
 
 centre, and for space in front sufficient for 
 the men to stand and eat, and behind it for 
 the waiter to serve them. This waiter was a 
 Chinaman. He it was who owned the place, 
 and stood with hands folded under his shirt,' 
 with his dimpled face wreathed in smiles, 
 his long queue, which nearly always came 
 undone, hanging with its tip in the butter, or 
 lying coiled upon the meat thrown loosely on 
 the shelf behind him, as he observed with 
 blinking, oblong eyes, the customers whom he 
 had helped to a large supply of food for a 
 little money. 
 
 But the feature about all this most notice- 
 able and longest to be remembered, is not to be 
 
 put to paper; it is a thing to . If it were 
 
 possible to gather together the odor of all the 
 generations of " colored gentlemen " who had 
 sat upon these stools, together with that of 
 the putrid liver and strong bacon, bad eggs, 
 and potatoes fried in cheap lard, and pork 
 that had come to no good end that they had 
 
44 
 
 eaten ; and of the terrible tobacco that they 
 had smoked, and of whisky that they had 
 drank, to say nothing of the tallow dip and 
 kerosene lamp covered with a conglomeration 
 of oil, tobacco juice, and singed bugs, which 
 added its quota of soot and gas were it pos- 
 sible to gather all this together and print it, 
 this little sketch, which modestly hopes to rob 
 a few very ugly facts of the comely cloaks 
 with which ignorant enthusiasm and perhaps 
 sectional prejudice have clothed them, would 
 need no other advertisement. The scent of it 
 would guide the stranger even through the 
 bewildering twists and turns of Boston's 
 thoroughfares to its whereabouts. And if 
 some of the good people of Boston are in- 
 clined to turn their noses, which I am proud 
 to say are delicate and refined, because they 
 are American noses, altogether away from 
 this literal description, how would they wel- 
 come the reality? How would they, or the peo- 
 ple of Concord or Evanston, or of any of our 
 
45 
 
 aesthetic and philanthropic nests, who say a 
 good many just and unjust things about the 
 rights of the blacks how would they like it 
 if a veritable Beale Street were to drag its 
 slimy length through the centre of their fair 
 towns ? 
 
 For this slop-shop was situated about the 
 centre of Beale Street, and it was no exception 
 to the many blocks of establishments on both 
 sides of it. And how would they like it if the 
 inhabitants of this street, not contented to 
 make good wages and to send their children 
 to school, and with having churches until a 
 quiet neighborhood could find no rest, should 
 rise up in their ignorance and strength of 
 numbers, and attempt to rule ? My impres- 
 sion is that they would do as the city of 
 Memphis and the South is sometimes obliged 
 to do. 
 
 Jock was unusually merry as he stood by 
 the counter to-night, but his companion Nich- 
 olas Blood was unusually morose. They had 
 
not come in together but at about the same 
 time, and were both waiting for their supper. 
 Jock, with one leg bent forward until the 
 knee touched the boards in front of him 
 and the other stretched straight out behind, 
 leaned heavily upon the counter, bearing his 
 entire weight upon arms and stomach, and 
 observed the Chinaman's work. A greedy 
 appetite intensified his gaze. 
 
 The Chinaman took first a loaf of bread in his 
 hand and pressed it closely to his perspiring 
 bosom. He cut a thick slice from the loaf, 
 and turning, selected from the shelf a gener- 
 ous piece of liver, which he daubed with mus- 
 tard; a slice of bacon, which he placed on the 
 liver and covered with mustard, and a fried 
 egg as big and as solid as a pancake, with 
 which he covered the bacon. Sprinkling the 
 whole with more mustard, he added another 
 thick slice of bread and handed it all to 
 Jock, for which he received five cents in 
 exchange. 
 
47 
 
 Nicholas Blood, while waiting for the Ce 
 lestial to perform a like office for him, stood 
 stiff upon both legs a few inches from the 
 counter with his hands thrust into his trou- 
 sers pockets, his hat pulled over his forehead, 
 and his eyes fixed moodily upon the floor. 
 
 When Jock had satisfied, by a few prodig- 
 ious mouthfuls, the greater part of his appe- 
 tite, he began to notice the ill-nature of his 
 neighbor, and became uncomfortable as he 
 caught from time to time a malignant glance 
 shot from beneath his scowling brows. Jock 
 suddenly felt that this man, standing so mo- 
 tionless by his side, was busy hating him. 
 The feeling increased until he became uneasy. 
 He did not know what to do or say, for though 
 Jock was one of the most fearless among the 
 negroes, the moods of Nicholas Blood were 
 formidable. They could not be handled lightly. 
 
 Suddenly four other darkies entered from 
 the street and filled the small room with their 
 uproar and noisy demands for food. 
 
" Heah dar, yo' damned yellow-skinned nig- 
 ger wid tail to\v yo' head, toss ova' dat yer 
 grub. Hello, Blood ! reckon yo' all's perme- 
 gatin' heaps o' 'scitement fo' dis yeah ebenin'; 
 reckon yo's goin' to make things climb about 
 a bit fo' morn', hain' you ?" 
 
 Nicholas Blood lifted his head a trifle and 
 fixing a sullen glare not at any one but 
 straight in front of him, said, making the 
 most of his heavy voice : 
 
 "I don' talk politics befo' traitors." 
 
 Jock felt the thrust. He arrested his hand 
 within a few inches of his open mouth, and 
 facing about quickly, exclaimed : 
 
 "Who do's you call traitor heah ?" 
 
 Nicholas Blood lifted his huge head a 
 trifle more, and fixing his eyes upon him, 
 answered: 
 
 "You." 
 
 Jock threw the sandwich that he held 
 fiercely at his head, and the missile taking 
 effect covered the enormous lips of his 
 
49 
 
 accuser with bread crumbs, meat, and mus- 
 tard. * 
 
 " We'll settle this yeah when 'lection's 
 ovah," said Old Nick, hoarsely, his eyes 
 glowing like subdued coals. 
 
 " I reckon we'll jes' settle it now," answered 
 Jock, coming nearer, but he stopped after the 
 first step. Old Nick had slipped one hand 
 into his hip pocket and Jock had no razor 
 with him. 
 
 '' Reckon yo'll stop to recompitulate fo ? yo' 
 disturb Old Nick," laughed one burly negro 
 among the crowd, as though boasting of his 
 own valor. 
 
 By this time the room was packed and soon all 
 memory of the quarrel was drowned, so far as 
 Jock was concerned, in his liberal draughts of 
 beer. When all were through eating and some 
 fresh excitement was necessary, the dice were 
 called for. Jock was the first to shake. He won, 
 then lost, then won again. He thought himself 
 
rich, in reality he was poorer than at first ; but 
 he was too drunk to notice it and too much 
 excited to care. 
 
 " Hyars to you all,'' he cried, lifting a pot 
 of beer above his head, as he made way for 
 others to reach the dice-box. 
 
 "I drink dis yeah to everybody. " 
 As he waved the pot he spilled some of the 
 contents down the neck of a neighbor. This 
 fellow had lost at dice and was at once furious. 
 With an oath he turned quickly, and knocking 
 the pot from Jock's hand, sent it spinning over 
 the counter and upon the shelf of meat. The 
 Chinaman received the contents. He looked 
 fora moment in astonishment at his drenched 
 shirt and wiped his face. A few moments 
 after he burst forth with a high, thin voice into 
 a tirade of vehement but unintelligible swear- 
 ing. No one noticed him and after a while he 
 stopped. Jock looked ruefully at the moist 
 neck of the man near him who was again ea- 
 gerly watching the dice. After a moment he 
 
put his hand upon his shoulder and turned 
 him around. 
 
 " Br'er, I's pow'fu' sorry fo' having" 
 
 " You go' the debbil," shouted the other, 
 angrily, as he jerked his shoulder about. 
 
 Jock hesitated a moment, as if he would 
 speak again, and then, muttering stupidly to 
 himself, walked somewhat unsteadily out of 
 the shop. 
 
 As he stepped into the street it was already 
 crowded. A bewildering mass of black faces 
 shining in the gas-light, as it oozed through 
 the doorways, surged back and forth like a 
 tide, strong and turbulent but not swift, be- 
 cause of its loitering pools and eddies. It was 
 too early yet for much drunkenness, and the 
 mob was a good-natured one. The sound that 
 rose from this quarter at all times swept it like 
 gusts of wind swallowed up by the rumbling 
 of wagons and the noise of a higher civiliza- 
 tion on Main Street. It died away among 
 the chimneys and pillared porches and garden 
 
plots of fine residences which rise abruptly at 
 its foot. Sometimes the people living here 
 listen to this and shake their heads, and 
 prophesy the coming of a storm Every one 
 of these black faces, full of brutal impulses and 
 coarse desires, belongs to a problem already 
 grown too great and terrible to solve. Every 
 year adds startling figures to the sum. God 
 only knows how fast these creatures multiply. 
 
53 
 
 VII. 
 
 Nor far from this tumult, but in a much 
 more respectable quarter, lived Philander Mat- 
 thews, the philanthropist. From time to time 
 he approached the window of his study and 
 looked dreamily upon the world below. He 
 was alone ; his slight figure moved pensively 
 about, and the delicate fingers of his hands, 
 clasped behind him, twisted around each 
 other constantly, as though vainly endeavor- 
 ing to undo their hopeless entanglement. The 
 
54 
 
 top of his head was slightly bald, but from the 
 temples and down the back hung a mass of 
 silken white hair. The face was that of a be- 
 nevolent enthusiast, the lower part was effem- 
 inate. Large wrinkles in his cheeks and in 
 the corners of his mouth created the appear- 
 ance of an habitual smile. Blue eyes, small 
 and restless, looked at you from beneath a 
 large forehead, as though you were the cre- 
 ation of a dream. In every available portion 
 of the room were books and magazines. Loose 
 papers were lying everywhere. A student- 
 lamp stood in the centre of a table at one side, 
 and surrounding it were open books, disor- 
 dered manuscript, a few journals, and, more 
 conspicuous than all, a long, narrow slip of 
 paper with a column of printed names upon 
 it. Presently, with the abstraction peculiar to 
 him, he turned about, took up this slip and 
 dropped into the easy chair pushed close to the 
 table. An hour of absolute silence passed, 
 broken in upon at last by a peremptory knock- 
 
55 
 
 ing at his door. He did not move. The knock 
 was not repeated, but the door flying open re- 
 vealed, standing on the threshold, a little 
 weazen-faced old woman, all bones and veins 
 and cords and skin, with a lace cap stuck awry 
 upon her head, and enormous puffs hiding her 
 shriveled-up ears. 
 
 " Philander !" she shrieked at the top of her 
 voice, as soon as her crow-like eyes spied him 
 out. The old man drew himself from the 
 depths of his chair and, turning his head, en- 
 deavored vainly to concentrate his vision upon 
 her. He could see a dream, but the realities 
 of this life were beyond him. " Judge Rector, 
 to see you," she remarked, and thereupon en- 
 tered the tall figure of the Judge, and a little 
 after him that of Thomas Judd. 
 
 "As I was saying," b^gan Philander Mat- 
 thews to his guest, not at first perceiving that 
 there were two, and without otherwise notic- 
 ing him he proceeded to pace up and down 
 the room. "Fifty years from now" he 
 
stopped and standing quietly in the middle 
 of the floor contemplated in silence the pict- 
 ure of that time. 
 
 The Judge smiled, as he perceived that this 
 remark was the continuation of their last con- 
 versation of two months ago. 
 
 " Mr. Matthews, I have a friend with me 
 from Michigan, Mr. Thomas Judd." 
 
 Judd took in his vigorous grip the slight 
 fingers of the great philanthropist. 
 
 The old gentleman looked at him with a 
 pleased smile and answered as best he could 
 the warm pressure of the hand. His child- 
 hood and the greater portion of his life had 
 been surrounded by the solemnity of the pine, 
 and everything about this man reminded him 
 of their spicy odor, the roaring of the wind, 
 the washing of the lake, and the invigorating 
 nipping of the frost. 
 
 " Michigan ?" he murmured softly, still hold- 
 ing the stranger's hand. "That was my 
 birthplace, sir." 
 
57 
 
 "Yes," the other answered, earnestly ; "we 
 are all proud of you up there." 
 
 When the three were seated, the Judge said, 
 
 " Mr. Matthews, I came to ask you what you 
 think of the present situation." 
 
 " The negroes are doing well," answered the 
 old man, rising and continuing to walk the 
 floor. 
 
 " Do you know who this Nicholas Blood is, 
 Mr. Matthews?" asked the Judge, glancing 
 with aversion at the narrow slip and looking 
 sharply up. 
 
 " Nicholas Blood ? Certainly I do; he is the 
 negro candidate." 
 
 " Yes, but do you know him ?" 
 
 "I have met him once." 
 
 "What is he like?" 
 
 "He" 
 
 The old man paused and looked vacantly 
 before him as though trying to recall. 
 
 " I do not remember how he looked. They 
 sny that is " he continued, as though speak- 
 
ing to himself " he has great power among 
 his people." 
 
 "Sir," said the Judge, slowly, "your action 
 in these times is not only a grave mistake, but 
 it is criminal." 
 
 Philander Matthews turrted quickly and 
 cried, passionately, "Who are you, to judge?" 
 
 A bright light shone in his blue eyes. The 
 Judge rose and sternly confronted him. 
 
 " I am nothing greater than a common man, 
 but I condemn your theories from a knowl- 
 edge of the facts. You are even ignorant of 
 the man whose fierce ambitions you sup- 
 port. You are equally ignorant in reality 
 of all his race. Listen to that distant 
 noise." 
 
 " I hear it; they are a happy people." 
 
 The Judge, with a look of weariness, turned 
 away. 
 
 ; ' Happy, although bitterly abused; but they 
 will gain their rights. Within fifty years they 
 will be numerous enough to rule." 
 
59 
 
 ''Great God !" exclaimed the Judge, turn- 
 ing to look in uncontrolled amazement al the 
 speaker. "That is the horrible truth, bui 
 how will they rule ? They should not even 
 vote before that time. It is contrary to alJ 
 nature that they should even dwell among 
 us." 
 
 Philander Matthews straightened his slight 
 figure to its full height as he replied, his 
 whole frame trembling with excitement: 
 
 " It is the will of God; this is your punish- 
 ment. Why did you bring them here ?" 
 
 "What!" interrupted the other, stooping 
 forward as he spoke. " Do you hold us re- 
 sponsible for the avarice of a few piratical 
 slave-dealers of two hundred years ago?" 
 
 "You were a slave-holder." 
 
 "And what of that? Do you call it sin to 
 follow blindly the teachings of the past and 
 present customs, when there is no thought of 
 wrong? That was a stage in the progress of 
 
6o 
 
 the world. We were in it then. It was no sin. 
 The light has dawned. We acknowledge the 
 error of that way, but before the world I insist, 
 sir, that we have not found a better one. The 
 error lies in this that they are here. There 
 cannot be equal rights, in this age of intellect- 
 ual mastery, where there is unequal ability. 
 There cannot be harmonious action between 
 such uncongeniality. Our natures, tastes, and 
 aspirations are all different. Who can fancy 
 that we can live like brothers ? " 
 
 "Educate them," the other said. 
 
 " That will not help us out. Even if by 
 years of patience they become wise and good 
 laborers, our social state will not be improved. 
 They are the children of a race of savages 
 with a barbarous pedigree since the days of 
 Ham. We are civilization. Yet, by mere 
 force of numbers, they rival us for the right 
 to shape the destinies of this nation. The 
 future of the world's progress is at stake ; do 
 you realize that ?" 
 
6 1 
 
 "You are quite right, sir ; it is a punishment 
 upon us. The negro must have his due." 
 
 Saying this, Philander Matthews dropped 
 wearily into his great chair and closed his 
 eyes. 
 
 " It is not a question of his dues, it is a 
 question of political economy." 
 
 The Judge let his glance rest for a moment 
 on Philander Matthews, until, drawn by a 
 greater magnetism, he turned his head slight- 
 ly and looked steadily into the eyes of 
 Thomas Judd. 
 
 "That is the seat of the misunderstanding. 
 I would not advocate the discontinuance of 
 one good thing now done for them. We 
 should do vastly more. The question is this: 
 How best to advance the interests of the hu- 
 man race ; how best to further the ultimate 
 perfection of civilization ; how best to con- 
 struct our Government? This is the problem, 
 and not simply what is the negro's due. As 
 they increase their numbers by millions, 
 
62 
 
 will it be possible for two distinct races, which 
 must always remain as distinct as black and 
 white, to live together on the same soil, and 
 build together a commonwealth 1" 
 
 Thomas Judd gazed steadfastly into the 
 speaker's face and was silent. Fora moment 
 he was lost in wonder at a new world sudden- 
 ly revealed to him. Then a multitude of ques- 
 tions flung themselves tumultuously to his lips. 
 He kept them closed, however. Here was the 
 great philanthropist, with his beautiful head 
 bowed low upon his hands. Why did he not 
 speak ? 
 
 " I believe it possible," came from his deli- 
 cate lips after a long silence. "A little time; 
 only a little time, dear sir. Education will 
 join their hands. Look," he continued, point- 
 ing to a crayon portrait above the fireplace. 
 " See in that face the possibilities of the negro. 
 Was not Frederick Douglass a co-laborer with 
 Lincoln and the abolitionists for the progress 
 of the world ? Ah ! they are, indeed, men as 
 
we are, they are indeed. You do not appre- 
 ciate them, Judge. There is the clerk of your 
 own court, and Don Pedro, as he is called." 
 
 " What hotel do you stop at, Mr. Judd ?" 
 
 "The Peabody." 
 
 " He is head waiter at your hotel. These 
 three I can think of at once. May not in time 
 the great majority of negroes become like 
 these ? We have many bright children in our 
 colored schools." 
 
 "They may," replied the Judge, with a rare 
 smile and momentary twinkle in his eye, as he 
 turned toward Mr. Judd, "if our northern 
 friends will take these black wenches for their 
 wives." 
 
 Philander Matthews bowed his head, and a 
 deep sigh followed upon the heels of his con- 
 tented smile. 
 
 " These fine specimens whom you have men- 
 tioned are the result of the saddest of all the 
 crimes of slavery. For you must know, Tom, 
 that all these three are half-breeds, and in the 
 
6 4 
 
 case of Douglas, almost white. The clerk of 
 the court is the son of " 
 
 Judd startled at so great a name. 
 
 "And the head waiter comes from our rarest 
 southern stock. As for the children in the 
 colored schools, there are few of them more 
 than half negro. If," he continued, rising, 
 " we respect the marriage law, it will take a 
 thousand years to reduce the thickness of their 
 sensual lips, tone down their brutal necks, 
 destroy their odor, and transform the ani- 
 mal into a being of refinement and lofty 
 aims. But Mr. Matthews, I must go. I came 
 to ask you to cease agitation at this time, be- 
 cause I believe that within a week we shall 
 have reached a crisis in this race question and 
 there will certainly be bloodshed." 
 
 Philander Matthews shook his head. 
 
 " You exaggerate. They are a good-na- 
 tured and long-suffering race." 
 
 All three arose. Mr. Judd said, extending 
 his hand: 
 
" I am glad to have met you. I have heard 
 of you for years." 
 
 "Yes/' said the Judge, rather sadly, "this 
 great and good man has been a brave soldier 
 in a long, long fight. Now," he continued, 
 as they left the house, u we will visit Beal 
 street." 
 
66 
 
 VIII. 
 
 BEAL STREET at night. To what can it be 
 likened. There are many similar ones in the 
 South, but nowhere else. The shops are kept 
 by the avaricious, the shrewd and brutal of 
 every race. Those who pass in and out are 
 all black. Observe this noisy multitude of 
 men and women that pack the walk, that 
 jostle and joke each other at every step, that 
 gossip at every shop door, that stop to quar- 
 rel or dance their rythmical shuffle at every 
 
corner. The prevailing sound is that of hila- 
 rious merriment. If heard at a distance it 
 would sound like the musical jubilee of a 
 happy race. It is composed of obscenity, a 
 merry laughter of oaths, threats, drunken 
 revelry and the exchange of ribald courtesies. 
 These people seldom think. They are like 
 sensuous and unclean barbarians tricked up 
 in borrowed clothes, who play for pastime 
 at civilization. 
 
 In almost every shop were games of chance, 
 surrounded by as many as could play or 
 watch. In every unoccupied niche along the 
 street were wheels of fortune. By the side 
 of one of these the two men pushed their way. 
 There was the rude table with the top four feet 
 square. Upon this, nails were driven two 
 inches apart so as to form a circle three feet 
 in diameter. Between these nails were the 
 objects to be won. There were three cigars 
 in each space, or a slip of paper calling for a 
 box of them, or a ham, or a long string of 
 
68 
 
 bananas hanging in the greedy sight of all 
 from a pole fastened to one side of the table. 
 In the centre of this circle was a pivot, on 
 which turned easily an iron dart pointed 
 with a slip of paper that feathered the nails 
 as it passed. At the side opposite the banana 
 stem rose an iron pipe, at the end of which 
 the light of a sputtering gas jet fell in a 
 slouchy fashion about those bending silently 
 and with bated breath above the table, and 
 shone in the faces peering eagerly over the 
 shoulders of those in front of them. He who 
 presided over the fortunes of these people 
 was a ruffian. The hat pushed on the back 
 of his head revealed a dirty bald spot sur- 
 rounded by close cut hair. This hat was once 
 a dark derby, but was now sadly battered 
 and of that faded brown color peculiar to the 
 head-gear of the slums. He wore a thick 
 mustache that dripped with tobacco juice and 
 beer. His red, swollen face confessed to every 
 dissipation. A pair of hard,, bad eyes peered 
 
from flabby lids at those about him as he 
 broke the momentary lulls in business with: 
 
 "Come up come up thain't no blanks; 
 yer boun' to drop some thing, and maybe 
 pull a ham ten cents a slide. Take a 
 turn." 
 
 But when some black hand ventured, with 
 trembling hesitation, another and possibly a 
 last dime, and turned feverishly the iron dart, 
 he watched only it. After the first payment 
 of ten cents the fortune seeker, by forfeiting 
 his three cigars, might continue to try al five 
 cents a venture for the larger prizes as long 
 as he wished. When some fresh hand took 
 hold, great merriment was created by his jokes 
 and the flourish with which he spun the rod. 
 The slip of paper, as it swiftly brushed the 
 nails, was bombarded with a multitude of 
 directions where to stop, until its progress 
 grew slow, and the flagging tip hesitated 
 upon every nail. It was pitiful to hear the 
 long sigh that slipped from every breast as 
 
the quivering- paper came to a final stop so 
 close, and to see the big white and black eyes 
 fixed in wistful reproach at the coveted object 
 it had missed. The interest at this particu- 
 lar table had been kept at a high pitch for 
 some time past by the persistency and dogged 
 patience of a certain old man, who had turned 
 for fifty times without a moment's pause to 
 no other purpose than three cigars. Each time 
 he had not even waited to refuse this prize, 
 but dropping another nickel on the board, had 
 turned again. All this while he had never 
 spoken. But the crowd, who seemed even 
 more anxious than himself, constantly encour- 
 aged him at every new turn with assurances 
 that u She done stop on ole ham dis time 
 sho," then with scattering prayers for it to 
 u Touch a ham," " Touch a ham," they settled 
 down to watch. 
 
 For the fifty-second time the old man 
 dropped his nickel and touched the rod. There 
 was a beseeching light in his feeble eyes. His 
 
hand trembled a little as he reached forth. 
 He turned it gently with a lingering touch as 
 though not willing to part with it. He leaned 
 forward as he let it go. As its pace slackened 
 he bent nearer still, glaring at it until his dim 
 eyes grew bright. All were as silent and as 
 motionless as though cut in stone. One more 
 nail and it would reach the ham. His face 
 and body contracted as it hung for a mo- 
 ment to this impediment. 
 
 He reached out with trembling hands and 
 muttered hoarsely as it hung quivering in the 
 open space. 
 
 " My Lo'd," he groaned, as it passed be- 
 yond. He turned away. After this, no one 
 wished to venture. All hung back, and even 
 the sport's oratory was in vain. 
 
 "I'll turn for you," he said at last. 
 
 " No ? Then here, you turn here, I say, 
 you damned fool, just turn for the fun of it. 
 Tain't going to cost you nothing That's right 
 now who goes in ? Anybody in on this ? 
 
You'd better; he knows how to turn look at 
 that O, no, my fly huckleberry, it's too late 
 now watch where she stops a ham." 
 
 Sure enough, it had stopped upon a ham. 
 
 *' One more turn and he'd a cotched it," 
 murmured the crowd, regretfully. 
 
 With a great bluster of bragging, Jock 
 pushed through the crowd in front of him and 
 reached the table. He threw down a silver 
 dollar, that fell with a merry ring, and asked 
 for change. 
 
 " Now, gm'n," he said, rolling his head, and 
 showing the whites of his eyes in an impress- 
 ive manner, " reckon yo' all's gwine ta see 
 sumpin drap." 
 
 The faces surrounding him became quickly 
 animated with a broad grin of expectancy. 
 
 " Now, you, sari," he continued, giving his 
 head a sudden shake and settling his chin 
 sidewise upon his expansive chest, .while his 
 gaze, solemn and staring like that of an 
 owl's in broad sunlight, fixed itself upon the 
 
73 
 
 sport, " Now, you, sah, jes' be'er keep yo* 
 occulations glued mighty sha'p to dat yah 
 ham. I's boun' to hit him dis tahme sho'." 
 
 " Well, hit away and don't talk so much," 
 shouted the sport, roughly glaring at him as 
 though to knock him down. 
 
 Jock met his eyes without the motion of a 
 muscle for a moment, and then all at once 
 doubled up his stomach, and with great wag- 
 gings of head, gave himself up to that in- 
 describable laugh peculiar to his kind, which 
 consists mainly in the contortions of the face 
 and a few minor, musical sounds ending in a 
 prolonged whoop. He remained so long in 
 this convulsed state, that the sport, out of all 
 patience with him, half rose from his seat and 
 bawled : 
 
 " Get out of this, you damned hell-hound, 
 and let some one else have a chance." 
 
 Jock straightened himself up at this, and, 
 looking at him in solemn reproach, half in 
 melancholy, half in pity, said: 
 
74 
 
 " 'Peers to me as yo's mahty hurried, 
 but da's all right, boss; I don 7 bear no ill- 
 will/' 
 
 He took the little dart in his great fingers. 
 
 "Now, yeers fo* da' ham; keep yo' eye on 
 de paper, boss. I's bleeged to fetch dat juicy 
 ham." 
 
 Away flew the paper around the ring of 
 nails, while all the dusky faces nearer bent to 
 urge it on or tell it where to stop, as though 
 it lived. 
 
 " Three cigars." 
 
 Another spin, and 
 
 " Three cigars." 
 
 Yet again, still 
 
 " Three cigars." 
 
 But such a thing is hope and confidence 
 that better luck must come at last, that once 
 and time and time again he sent the paper on 
 its thrilling quest, and felt his heart grow big 
 and fingers twitch, as it brought him always 
 
 " Three cigars." 
 
75 
 
 One dollar went, and then in order not to 
 waste so much, he tossed another after it. A 
 third he spent with hesitation, lingering in 
 doubt upon each little piece. When this was 
 gone, he stopped. 
 
 " Well, are you in ? " cried the harsh and 
 taunting voice of the man who was watching 
 him. 
 
 He broke another dollar, and once again, 
 while fright and eagerness and hope toyed 
 with the muscles of his face, he grasped the 
 iron and sent it cautiously about the ring. 
 He did not even listen as the man called, 
 
 " Three cigars." 
 
 He knew what the trouble was. He had 
 not turned quite hard enough that was all 
 
 " Close mahty close." 
 
 " Three cigars/' 
 
 Every one fell back with exclamations of ex- 
 citement and regret. He seized the rod again 
 and threw it from him savagely. The paper 
 whistled as it ticked the nails, but Jock, not 
 
waiting to pay for this turn nor to see the re- 
 sult, walked off tossing into the crowd his 
 three cigars. 
 
 " Anybody want this whirl ?" asked the 
 sport. Some one dropped a dime, and an- 
 swered : 
 
 " Reckon I'll take dat, boss." 
 
 It stopped upon a ham. 
 
 A ripple of surprise passed through all 
 those about, and half a dozen stepped forward 
 for a chance. 
 
 Underneath each of the piles of cigar boxes 
 on which the sport leaned his elbows was an 
 electric button, by which he controlled the 
 movements of the rod. Those who won were 
 cappers. 
 
 "That is terrible," said Thomas Judd, as 
 they moved away, " they are gambling every- 
 where." 
 
 " It is the negro's life. Let me tell you this, 
 Tom, there is a future to this question. Now 
 that the bondage has been removed, these 
 
77 
 
 people are giving the loose rein to their natu- 
 ral instincts of unrest. The children of the 
 next generation will be always roving from 
 place to place. Having no lofty purpose, 
 they think only of excitement and their 
 appetites. 
 
 " The negro of to-day is a different being 
 from the old-time plantation type. These that 
 you see are metropolitan negroes. Constant 
 agitation for political ends, an unaccustomed 
 notoriety and plenty of money, for they re- 
 ceive large wages, has turned their heads. 
 But what is this ?" 
 
 In front of the market near where they 
 stood was a great crowd. Upon a dry goods 
 box in the centre stood a tall white man with 
 head uncovered, who was addressing them. 
 Long, black hair fell upon his shoulders. The 
 tapering ends of a fierce mustache protruded 
 far beyond his hollow cheeks. Restless eyes 
 flashed from sunken sockets. His voice had 
 the ring of steel. As he spoke, he electrified 
 
his audience by the sudden motion of his long 
 arms. 
 
 " Vote ! Vote !" he cried, " and win by 
 your ballots that which it is your right to 
 have. The unjust slavery of two hundred 
 years is yours to avenge. There is more 
 gold in the cellar of the City Hall than 
 this crowd can carry it is the hoarded wages 
 of those years. It all is yours. Why do you 
 suffer ? Why are you poor why do you do 
 the labor of these thieves ? You are as good 
 as they and nearly as many. Vote, I say, and 
 if your ballots are not counted you must kill." 
 
 This discourse suited the audience. It is 
 pleasant to be made martyrs of. For twenty 
 years these people have been taught discon- 
 tentment. They believed themselves op- 
 pressed, and their black faces grew moody as 
 they listened. 
 
 As the two men were pushing closer in the 
 crowd the Judge stepped upon the foot of a 
 burly black. A moment before, when the 
 
79 
 
 speaker had uttered the word " kill," this man 
 had cried out with a hoarse yell : 
 
 " Kill ! Kill !" 
 
 He was still growling fiercely to himself. He 
 turned as the Judge stepped upon his foot, and 
 seeing that it was a white man, spit upon his 
 face. He snarled and was about to follow the 
 insult by a blow when Thomas Judd knocked 
 him down. He lay unconscious where he fell. 
 
 " A white man has killed Sleuth William- 
 son," passed from mouth to mouth. A sinis- 
 ter murmur arose from the crowd. The Judge, 
 aware of the danger, said in a low voice, 
 "Come quickly," and walked a few steps up 
 the street. The crowd spread out, and pressed 
 about them, growing more hostile and noisy 
 as they moved. 
 
 " Head 'em off," was shouted from behind. 
 A clump of dirt broke against the cheek of 
 Thomas Judd. 
 
 11 Ye, ah! Yah ! ah, dun hit 'im. Whoop !" 
 A furious oath followed this cry. 
 
So 
 
 It would be necessary to run or face the 
 crowd. The two men were deciding which 
 to do, when suddenly a negro stepped from 
 the stairway as they were passing, and called 
 savagely for the rabble to stop. They at once 
 obeyed. 
 
 "That was rather unlocked for," laughed 
 Thomas Judd, as they hurried on. 
 
 " They are easily excited these days," an- 
 swered the Judge. 
 
 It was Nicholas Blood who had stopped 
 the crowd. He said to them : 
 
 " See yah, you black devils, none of this 
 'fo' 'lection day. After that yo' time '11 come." 
 
 All along the streets excited groups were 
 discussing politics. The city vote next week 
 would surely be a dark one. 
 
 On Hadon avenue was another and a 
 larger gathering. All was different here. It 
 was a throng of merry-makers. 
 
 The majority of the men were tipsy ; some 
 were quarrelsome. The women not less so, 
 
Si 
 
 laughed and swore uproariously. In a large, 
 open place, a great revolving swing, such as is 
 found at fairs and circuses, each of its twenty 
 horses laden with a roaring negro, and its 
 coaches carrying those too drunk to ride, 
 rushed round and round, stopping every few 
 minutes to change its load while the con- 
 ductor bawled, dizzy darkies stumbled off, and 
 others scrambled on. Then the manager put 
 a whistle to his lips, to which an engine in the 
 background somewhere shrieked an answer, 
 and off again went the " merry-go-round/', 
 while a broken-winded hand - organ, turned 
 by the machinery of the swing, flung over all 
 wild and disjointed fragments of the " Fisher 
 Maiden." Were one a benevolent traveler, 
 blessed with a good digestion, taking an after- 
 dinner stroll to see the sights, he might at the 
 distance of three hundred feet have thought 
 this a pleasant sound, and afterward have 
 said, honestly enough, many fine things about 
 this happy race. But let me ask you, good 
 
82 
 
 men and madams, to wear overalls, and draw 
 your skirts close to you and mingle for an 
 hour in this crowd. 
 
 God knows that I, whose home has always 
 been aired by the winds from heaven, shrink 
 from the vulgarity herein described. My 
 pen staggers, and will not write these oaths. 
 This sketch is not furnished as a pastime, 
 nor for the eyes of those who wish to shun 
 rather than alleviate the evils of the world. 
 It is for all those who pass judgment on the 
 South. If surrounded by your books and 
 paintings, and listening day by day to gentle 
 tongues, you close your ears to the vile 
 drippings of those lips that seek to issue 
 mandates to those whom you condemn, then 
 in the name of justice hold your peace, and 
 speak only of those things you are willing to 
 investigate. 
 
 There were two hundred voters in this noisy 
 crowd. The swing was always full, and those 
 around it waited impatiently their turn. 
 
They swarmed upon the guy ropes, leaning 
 against them because too drunk to stand 
 alone, and filled the spaces between like 
 great, black bees. 
 
 A little way from the majority were a 
 group of boys and girls spitting tobacco- 
 juice at a crack. Not far from them, lean- 
 ing against a high board fence, were men 
 and women suffering already the sickness 
 of debauch. In the centre of a group, a 
 young and lusty woman with skirts held 
 above her knees, was executing a shuffle 
 in competition with a young buck of her 
 own age. 
 
 " Yo'll be bleeged to shake yo' legs, Snuffles, 
 to bust that yar gal's wind." 
 
 "She dun got shins like a mule's." 
 
 " I reckon the's a right smart o' good 
 eatin' on them calves," came from the 
 crowd. To all of which the dancer lifted 
 her dress the higher, bent her back the 
 more, set her teeth the tighter and rolled 
 
8 4 
 
 her eyes and raised her elbows and flopped 
 her knees and beat her heels and toes and 
 slid upon the smooth soles of her shoes 
 until a boundless excitement swelled through 
 the crowd, and a dozen others were trying 
 to outdo her. 
 
 As Jock entered this great throng he caught 
 the roving glance of a pair of wild, bright 
 eyes. They were the light of a voluptuous 
 face, which on the instant lit up with even 
 a greater glow and came toward him. It was 
 the face of a woman not yet twenty. Her 
 form was rich and undulating with soft 
 curves. The lips were bursting with sensual- 
 ity; her cheeks were plump and radiant. As 
 she came close to him, she threw both arms 
 lightly about his neck and kissed him. Her 
 breath was laden with whisky; her laugh was 
 a musical gurgle of intoxication. As she felt 
 his arms about her she leaned heavily in 
 them, her head fell with a slight roll upon his 
 shoulder, and as her eyelids drooped so as to 
 
half conceal her shining, misty eyes, her mouth 
 parted as she laughed again. She led him 
 away from the crowd to a saloon across the 
 street, and cajoled him with caresses into 
 treating her. They drank until there was no 
 room for more, and with some difficulty 
 recrossed the street. In each other's arms, 
 this boozy couple passed through the crowd, 
 and waited for a chance to swing. All about 
 them were women teasing men for beer, and 
 men asking women questions too vile for 
 repetition. 
 
 The horses and their riders, sweeping past 
 with a rush and roar of voices, made their 
 reeling heads swim, and they were obliged 
 constantly to hold each other up. At last the 
 opportunity arrived. The swing had stopped. 
 They endeavored to rush forward with the 
 rest, but starting too suddenly, and being, 
 though happy, exceedingly confused, they 
 lost their balance, and with the help of those 
 jostling about them, tumbled both together 
 
86 
 
 on the ground. When the swing stopped a 
 second time, they helped each other up, and 
 with great labor and uproar secured seats. 
 
 Off they went. At first slowly, then with a 
 terrific rush, until the wind was a tempest in 
 their ears and the people below appeared like 
 a sea of spectres, and the sound of their shouts 
 and songs and laughter came to them like the 
 music of a storm on winter nights. How they 
 stayed on is a mystery, indeed. They rode upon 
 two horses side by side. They clung to each 
 other and fell upon each other's knees. They 
 bawled and uttered, as though singing them, 
 the most outlandish sounds big words, lines 
 of sacred hymns, plantation melodies, shouts 
 to Gabriel and the Lord, all jumbled to- 
 gether, and brought out with all the force 
 of their great lungs, and with all the fervor 
 of their passionate, uncontrolled impulses, 
 stirred now by excitement and whisky into 
 a hurricane. This is no exaggeration of the 
 scene. It is not possible to present it viv- 
 
idly enough. One should dwell within the 
 sound of it to understand. 
 
 After this was over, and they were once 
 again in the crowd, the woman, lifting her 
 voluptuous face to his, murmured thickly: 
 
 "Come, honey, 'long home wi' me." 
 
 With brain already stupefied, but with 
 nerves on fire, Jock went with her. 
 
 A few moments in this crowd sufficed for 
 Mr. Judd. The sights and sounds and odors 
 sickened him. 
 
 u Nothing but animals," he said to the 
 Judge, with a shudder of 'disgust, as the two 
 men moved away, " I confess that personal 
 contact with these people promises to change 
 my views concerning them. I shall not cease 
 to believe that we owe them a heavy debt 
 and must protect their rights, but I should 
 not want to live among them. Come, what 
 do you advocate ?" 
 
 The Judge took his companion's arm in a 
 fatherly way as he answered him: 
 
88 
 
 " I am not ready to tell you that yet. Bat 
 let me point out to you a significant thing. 1 
 have never known a Northerner that came 
 South who did not at once conceive a personal 
 dislike for the negro. No practical, observing 
 man ever stays here long without opposing 
 them unmercifully. Capitalists because of 
 their shiftless labor, and refined people be- 
 cause of their uncleanliness. This is not so 
 much the case with us. We are used to it. 
 This is not a personal question with us. It is 
 one of statescraft." 
 
 " Why don't you teach them cleanliness 
 and give them greater inducements to 
 work ?" 
 
 " There are too many of them ; they are 
 one-half the cities' population, and there 
 are too few of us who are willing to as- 
 sist." 
 
 "Then," began Thomas Judd hotly, he hesi- 
 tated, and was silent. 
 
 "Well?" asked the Judge. 
 
" I was about to say if that was the case you 
 might well suffer the consequences ; but I see 
 that does not help matters. Such a condition 
 is not the fault of the South, it is the fault of 
 human nature." 
 
 " That is true," cried the Judge, earnestly. 
 " Those who are blest with divine hopes 
 and aspirations are the guardians of human- 
 ity. They must not only show its short- 
 comings, but must shape the conditions for 
 the most perfect development. The North 
 should not judge in this matter. They do 
 not possess the knowledge of suffering. They 
 are no better than we. This is shown by 
 those who locate here. They do not think 
 any more than others of their neighbors' 
 welfare. They haste only to get rich. Their 
 avarice is as great as ours." 
 
 "Then what would you do ?" 
 
 " Think over to-night what you have seen, 
 and we will talk of this again. Come to our 
 church in the morning, the Episcopal, and be 
 
shown to our pew. My wife and Annie are 
 eager to see you. They were quite put out 
 that you would not come to-night." 
 
IX. 
 
 SUNDAY morning Thomas Judd sat down to 
 breakfast just as his benefactor of the day be- 
 fore was leaving. They exchanged salutations. 
 One waiter picked up the napkin the old gen- 
 tleman had dropped, another insinuated a 
 finger-bowl into his notice. As he arose, Don 
 Pedro drew back his chair. 
 
 The skin of the planter was white and deli- 
 cate, his whiskers were like snowy silk. Those 
 above him were glossy black and the face 
 
was coarse. But there was something in the 
 attitude and air of each that caught the at- 
 tention of Mr. Judd, and, recalling the words 
 of the philanthropist, he thought: 
 
 "Can it be?" 
 
 When left alone at the table he fell to medi- 
 tating. All his theories had been shaken by 
 one day's experience. His brain resembled 
 a vigorous forest in a storm. 
 
 He had always argued that the negro could 
 be educated into good citizenship. He had 
 pointed as conclusive proof to Fred Douglas 
 and the negro Senators. These examples 
 now illustrated only the degradation of their 
 negro ancestry, and the necessity of some 
 great change. 
 
 It was evident, that in the association of 
 these two races, the white man descended 
 to the level of a beast. They met only 
 in the mud of a moral slough. He looked 
 up. These waiters he had thought yesterday 
 
93 
 
 to be further proof of great possibilities. 
 They were, as a rule, a courteous and gentle 
 
 company, but now he called Don Pedro to 
 
 him. 
 
 "Are any of your waiters full-blooded ne- 
 groes ?" 
 
 "No, sah ; I don' have no niggahs in my 
 dinin'-room." 
 
 He brought a fresh glass of water, and 
 continued his strutting up and down the 
 floor. 
 
 The evening before Thomas Judd had been 
 nauseated by the vulgarity he had witnessed. 
 He was brimful of negro. The sight of one 
 sickened him. On his way to church he saw 
 little else. As he left the hotel, a dozen picka- 
 ninnies, who were rushing past, became en- 
 tangled about his legs and the suddenness of 
 their contact caused him to spin about as 
 though caught in a whirlpool. He came to a 
 sudden stop against the yielding bosom of 
 their fat, strong-smelling mammy. 
 
94 
 
 The street was filled with great crowds 
 of negroes bound for church. Every street 
 car was packed with them. They seemed to 
 possess the town. In front of a saloon lay 
 a beer keg that had sprung a leak. A 
 swarm of black boys and girls were gath- 
 ered around it holding their lips to the crack 
 and mopping the wet sidewalk with their 
 hands. 
 
 When Thomas Judd reached the church, 
 service had begun. He heard the deep vibra- 
 tions of the organ as he ascended the stairs. 
 The melody stole softly over the people 
 sitting quietly as he entered. The light pour- 
 ing through the many -colored windows 
 caressed the ceiling, the audience and walls. 
 Velvety shadows seduced the vision by half- 
 revealed outlines. The air was disturbed 
 as though by the moving of wings. A cool, 
 sweet wind blew upon his face. As the 
 people rose there was a rustling as of an In- 
 
95 
 
 dian summer breeze in a forest, and a deli- 
 cate perfume ascended as though a large 
 white rose had opened. He was ushered 
 down the long aisle. He bowed his head as 
 though advancing toward the throne of God. 
 He had suddenly stepped into Paradise, and 
 the volume of song came to him as from the 
 choir of Heaven. 
 
 He had asked the usher for Judge Rector's 
 pew. The Judge, stepping into the aisle, re- 
 ceived him with a smile. 
 
 A soft rustling of airy skirts ; one-half of a 
 hymn-book gently offered him ; a dainty 
 apologetic little thumb holding down the 
 pages of the other half ; a slender hand, 
 concealed by light tan gloves, appearing to 
 point out the place ; a quivering smile, 
 a blush ; a short, observing glance, half 
 merry, half critical, and altogether modest, 
 from soft gray eyes, open, yet full of shadows, 
 where lurked appeals for love and gentle- 
 ness. 
 
All this received him as he stepped into the 
 pew was it not Paradise, indeed ? One of 
 the good old-fashioned Eden kind, such as we 
 all walk into and are satisfied with sometirne. 
 A wall of time encircled them. They stood 
 apart within a recess of the mystical realm 
 of youth. Sympathy, like an arbor of honey- 
 suckle, enclosed the place. Old time memor- 
 ies, like the odor of sweet thyme, perfumed 
 the air. He returned the salutation of the 
 father, he answered the beaming welcome 
 of the wife and mother, he dropped his eyes 
 upon the book, and she alone seemed present 
 to him. 
 
 As they were seated, her skirts so ar- 
 ranged themselves as to show a bit of white 
 lace peeping from beneath the black dress. 
 He saw two little shoes with pointed tips placed 
 demurely on the cushioned foot-rest and he 
 put his own great pair beside them. She did 
 hot look at him again, therefore he stole an 
 occasional glance at her. Was this beautiful 
 
97 
 
 young woman, indeed, the little girl he had 
 romped with and loved ten years ago ? He 
 was delighted to be so near her. There 
 was just room enough between them for her 
 little hand that dropped for an instant upon 
 the seat. He felt an irresistible impulse to 
 pick it up. While he *.vas hesitating and look- 
 ing at it, she suddenly removed the tempta- 
 tion and, with ablush, placed the wanderer in 
 her lap. He immediately became interested 
 in the minister. 
 
 How quiet. Only the monotonous intona- 
 tion of one voice. The organ seemingly had 
 fallen into a peaceful sleep, the dreams of 
 which perhaps were the trembling vibrations 
 of its own anthem dying away within itself. 
 The light fell in colored bars across the room. 
 The dim recesses echoed faintly to his mem- 
 ory snatches of old songs. The cobwebs in 
 the rafters were full of tales. Suddenly he 
 seemed to see in the shifting sunbeams the 
 
glint of wings, and a multitude of voices 
 whispered: 
 
 " Peace on earth, good will to men." 
 
 All at once a voice of thunder shouted in his 
 ear, " Wake up, in the name of humanity." 
 
 Restarted. Perceiving that the exhortation 
 of the preacher had roused him from a partial 
 doze, he glanced at her. A mischievous smile 
 was playing about the corners of her mouth. 
 
 After service they all walked home to- 
 gether. 
 
 At the dinner table Thomas Judd met his 
 acquaintance of the hotel. His name was 
 Colonel Essex. They had some conversation, 
 but his heart was not in it. He accepted an 
 invitation to visit the Colonel's plantation, and 
 did not think of him again. He watched 
 Annie. He listened to Annie. He spoke to 
 Annie. In everything she said and did he 
 caught a suggestion of the little Annie he had 
 known before. They looked into each other's 
 
99 
 
 eyes and felt no embarrassment. They knew 
 each other. 
 
 The house of Judge Rector stood in the 
 centre of a magnificent lawn that spread 
 around it like a park. Southern foliage, 
 Southern flowers, and the limpid texture of 
 air who can picture it ? 
 
 The sunlight smiled in at the windows, a 
 warm wind came through the open doors, 
 sweet with the odor of magnolias. In the 
 afternoon Tom and Annie went into the 
 garden. 
 
 The majority of the world, as it grows old, 
 acquires a respect for that passion woven 
 of sunbeams that is called first love. If given 
 the opportunity, this would become the per- 
 fect love. Is it not the purest ? Are not 
 children under the guardianship of angels ? 
 In the morning of life only is love 
 roseate through mystery. It rises like the 
 sun that forms a rainbow in the mists. 
 The strong and terrible sun whose rays that 
 
blister at midday are tempered then by 
 the dew. 
 
 Tom had lost his boy's heart ten years ago 
 through looking too often into little Annie's 
 eyes. It had dropped into them before he knew. 
 Is there anything so formidable as a little 
 unconscious coquette of eight merry years? 
 He had never quite recovered; and now, as he 
 met her again, he was searching for his heart 
 within her woman's eyes. 
 
 He threw himself on the grass, shaded by a 
 clump of live oak trees, and watched her as she 
 moved like a languid humming-bird among 
 the flowers, taking their sweetest gifts with her 
 inquisitive little nose thrust deep into their 
 responsive hearts, and her eyes bright and 
 mellow, always tempting him to search 
 a little further into their own shadowy 
 depths. 
 
 Presently she seated herself by his side and 
 asked him about his old ambitions, and if he 
 had found a happy life. 
 
101 
 
 " Well, I have had a busy one," he said. 
 And then he told her of his labors, of the 
 pleasures and disappointments of commercial 
 life. It was impossible to resist the influence 
 of this balmy day, and his voice assumed a 
 dreamy sound, as though to harmonize with 
 the humming of the bees, even when dwelling 
 on this prosaic theme. 
 
 He told her that they had added large iron 
 works to their other industries, and that by 
 making wood alcohol and tar from the smoke 
 that came from the charcoal kilns, they re- 
 ceived a revenue of $90,000 from that which 
 formerly went to waste. 
 
 There was not much romance about all this, 
 surely. The romance was in the little accom- 
 paniment of sympathy with which she received 
 his words and the indistinct memories that 
 floated round them, as the delicate pollen 
 that filled the air like a thousand perfumed 
 messengers from a world of flowers. We have 
 long since learned that thoughtful, and even 
 
102 
 
 grave or gloomy men, are not barren of 
 romance. Silent and hidden, it may yet be 
 strong and deep. 
 
 Thomas Judd's whole life had been one of 
 unceasing labor both of mind and muscle. 
 He had mixed constantly with men. Since 
 his college days his father, a man of large in- 
 terests and influence, had been his constant 
 companion. 
 
 Annie, with her bright eyes, her merry ways 
 and her quick sympathy with all his boyish 
 dreams, had found her way by the side of 
 those unruffled waters of romance within his 
 nature, somewhere hidden, even from himself; 
 and since then her foot-prints had remained 
 upon the brink, and he had been conscious 
 sometimes of the reflection of her laughing 
 face, still captive there. 
 
 It was most natural for him to speak to her 
 first about his business, as it had been always 
 one of the foremost of his thoughts Yet he 
 talked, looking almost constantly at her face. 
 
103 
 
 He told her of his frequent plunges into the 
 rough camp-life in the heart of the forest, both 
 because he loved the hard work and because 
 he wished to study his trees. He found him- 
 self speaking to her of those delicate influences 
 that he had before felt in silence, the odors 
 and sounds, and all the mysterious life of the 
 woods. He recalled scenes in camp-life that 
 he had supposed forgotten when they oc- 
 curred. He remembered every nook and cor- 
 ner they had visited as children, and told her 
 of the changes in them. 
 
 Sometimes she met his glance, her eyes 
 twinkling with appreciation of his humor, 
 or grave and sympathetic, as he touched upon 
 his own inner life. They were always sweet, 
 womanly, lovely eyes, and had no self-con- 
 sciousness in them. 
 
 He told her of his ideas, of the relations of 
 men, one to another, of his ideals, his dreams 
 for the future of the world, to all of which she 
 listened listened as to a fairy tale. Then 
 
104 
 
 came long pauses, in which he lay content to 
 look at her, in which she sometimes looked at 
 him and sometimes at the sky, or more often 
 dreamily at nothing. When they spoke, their 
 voices grew softer. Their questions now 
 became more personal, and their answers 
 sometimes were attended by a meaning not 
 always plain, but suggestive and delicate, steal- 
 ing over the senses like the perfume of the 
 flowers about them. At last she said : 
 
 "And have you never been in love ? " 
 
 " Oh yes." 
 
 "Very many times?" 
 
 There was a touch of roguery in her side- 
 long glance and in the dimples that dotted 
 her cheeks. 
 
 " No, only once." 
 
 Just the slightest of perceptible sensations 
 trembled in her heart as she said: 
 
 " Why don't you tell me about that, too ?" 
 
105 
 
 She endeavored to look at him as before, 
 but it was impossible. 
 
 " It was a long time ago," he said, softly. 
 
 She did not answer. 
 
 " It was ten years ago. 
 
 Suddenly she asked, looking away, "Do 
 do you think you will like the South ?" 
 
 He smiled a little and answered, " that de- 
 pends. Shall I go on with my love story?" 
 
 " Don't," she murmured, with her face still 
 turned away. There was a little beseeching 
 in her voice. 
 
 And they both remained silent. 
 
 What can ensue but happiness when two 
 ardent natures think only of bestowing it ? 
 
 If the anxiety to please, the delicious sen- 
 sitiveness to each ether's needs, the constant 
 welling of sympathy to the face would pass 
 from the wooing to the wedded life, how little 
 of wretchedness there would be. 
 
 Had earth's earliest lovers stepped into the 
 world in each other's arms, and looking only 
 
io6 
 
 into each other's eyes, they might have carried 
 Paradise with them. 
 
 It was twilight when they returned. The 
 Judge met them on the steps. 
 
 " Shall we go to a colored church this even- 
 ing, Mr. Judd ? " 
 
 "Will you go, Miss Annie?" 
 
 " I can't. My old mammy, who lives not far 
 from us is sick. I sit with her Sunday even- 
 ings and read ; but you must go." 
 
 He thought for a moment, and said cordial- 
 ly: 
 
 " Thank you, Judge, it will be just the thing. 
 How soon do we go ?" 
 
toy 
 
 X. 
 
 ADJOINING the Judge's residence were a 
 cluster of tumbled-down shanties. Further 
 on was another fine place, surrounding which 
 were also crumbling clay chimneys, lop-sided 
 roofs, low, unpainted walls, and windows 
 stopped up with rags. 
 
 "It is like this throughout the city," said 
 the Judge, on the way to church. 
 
 " We have very few streets not encumbered 
 with this rubbish." 
 
to8 
 
 "Why don't you buy them out?" 
 
 " We have no money to spare in this coun- 
 try. A few men would be obliged to own the 
 town. We have our ordinary share of poor 
 white people as well as these twenty or thirty 
 thousand blacks. They are extra. It would 
 take a standing army of police and sanitary 
 officers to keep these places clean. In the 
 summer and rainy seasons a thick volume of 
 filthy steam arises about us, a constant incense 
 to the throne of death. Our lawn is filled with 
 flowers to dilute the smell." 
 
 As they reached the church, the chorister 
 was just rising to announce the hymn. 
 
 " Nah Bredren, less all conceede tow de 
 wusship ob de Lowd by intonating ob de 
 fahty-fust hymn." 
 
 The audience stood, and the odor that as- 
 cended with them, was not like that of a large 
 white rose just opening. 
 
 Not wishing to attract notice, the Judge and 
 Thomas Judd slipped into one of the rear seats. 
 
log 
 
 After the roar of song had rolled away and 
 the people were seated, the preacher called 
 upon " Bru'r Abraham " to pray. 
 
 After a silence long enough to be impress- 
 ive, Bru'r Abraham settled himself firmly on 
 his knees, gripped the seat in front of him, 
 Hi ted his face toward heaven, and in a loud 
 voice, mellowed but not weakened by age, he 
 shouted to the Almighty : 
 
 "Great and omniferous God, smile upon 
 us wid de light ob dy own precious and 
 eternal city 'mong de hills ob eberlastin' 
 joy. 
 
 " Oh, great an' omniferous God, intensify us 
 wid de smile ob dy love. 
 
 " Magnify us wid dy grace. 
 
 " Oh, great an' omniferous God. A'mtghty 
 maker ob de Lamb. SMILE upon us from 'mong 
 de hills ob eber lasting joy. 
 
 " We's no 'count niggahs. 
 
 " Ize no 'count niggah. 
 
 " Sist' Ann's no 'count niggah. 
 
no 
 
 "Sist* Mandy oh, Lo'd Jesus who mar- 
 ried Ephrum Jones no mo' 'count niggah 'n a' 
 de rest ob us. Oh, God, she's no ' count niggah. 
 
 " O O'-O oh, Om - NE - EE - EE - FERUS GOD 
 
 A' mighty 'mong de eUlastin hills o joy. We 
 isn't none o' us no 'count niggahs ef you don' 
 smile upon us. 
 
 " Ooh, GO o D, fill my sou' wi 9 fire. 
 
 " Fill Sisf Ann's sou' wi' fire. 
 
 " Fill Sist* Mandy's sou' wi' fire. 
 
 " Oh, Lo'd Jesus, Fill Ephrum Jones, FILL 
 us ALL GOD A'MIGHTY wi' FIRE FROM DE EBER- 
 LASTIN' HILLS o' joy." 
 
 This prayer had produced a remarkable 
 effect upon those mentioned in it. When 
 their names were spoken, each had mani- 
 fested a marvelous degree of humility and 
 self-reproach, and when Bru'r Abraham had 
 beseeched, with an infinite variety of musical 
 sounds, that they might be filled with fire, all 
 four burst forth into a noisy but strangely 
 harmonious clamor for the same great boon. 
 
Ill 
 
 Suddenly Mandy began to sing in a slightly 
 subdued, yet sweet and penetrating voice, the 
 words of a fantastic hymn : 
 
 King Jesus comes in de circle ob de -sun, 
 
 Oh yes! Oh yes! 
 To tell us ob de wo'k he's done. 
 
 Oh yes! Oh yes! 
 Wait till I get on my robes, 
 Wait till I get on my robes. 
 
 Oh yes! 
 
 Others in the audience were beginning to 
 feel the religious fervor, when the prayer 
 ended, and the preacher took his stand be- 
 hind the pulpit, leaned his sharp elbows on 
 the open Bible, clasped his bony fingers far 
 in front of him, and rolled his great eyes over 
 the audience. It was a vast tabernacle filled 
 with negroes. There were over one thousand 
 black faces turned up to his. The slight ex- 
 citement was subdued: Mandy ceased to sing. 
 A magnetic silence crept through the place. 
 Soon every eye fixed itself upon that one face 
 rigid and intense. The preacher waited a 
 
moment, then he slowly raised himself and 
 said : 
 
 " Bredren, I's goin' to preach promiscus dis 
 yeah ebening. I've chosen fah my tex', ' Run 
 wid patience de race.' 
 
 " When de Christian Chu'ch war in its 
 infants, strugglin' amid de obsticulations dat 
 crushed it into insignif'canse as it wuz, Paul 
 ruze up and tole Tymathy as he'd bin dis- 
 jointed of God while in his gran'mammy's loins. 
 
 " Bustin' wid holy zeal he cried, say he: 
 'Castin' aside de waits dat does so easily up- 
 set us, I'll run wid patience de race.' Doz 
 yo' all see how yo's 'bleeged to run ?" 
 
 " Glo' to God A'mighty !" came from some 
 stentorian lung in the audience. 
 
 " Doz yo' all see how yo's 'bleeged to run?" 
 
 "Ye, ah/' "Yepp." "Yepp." " Come 
 down, Gabriel!" "Oh, LoM, come down!" 
 answered the clamor from below. 
 
 The preacher again placed his elbows on 
 the Bible, and clasped his hands. His face 
 
glowed as though in a strong light. Passion 
 leapt from his eyes and shot into the souls of 
 those in front of him. A breathless silence 
 spread through the place. It became oppress- 
 ive. The air quivered as though stirred by 
 the hovering of a multitude of invisible bats. 
 Darkness dripped from the rafters and filled 
 the spaces between. In a great, murky re- 
 cess above the pulpit was an obscure shape. 
 It might have been Ignorance wrapped in its 
 ponderous wings, gloating over its domain. 
 When the preacher again spoke, he did not 
 disturb the silence. His voice was subdued, 
 his accents soft. His every sound was mu- 
 sical. All at once Mr. Judd felt a tickling 
 sensation about the roots of his hair. He 
 listened. A murmur floated to him as weird 
 and sweet as the wailing of an aeolian harp, as 
 faint as the humming of a swarm of bees in a 
 distant clover field. Always a little louder 
 than the rest rose the chanting of the preacher. 
 There was a multitude of varying sounds 
 
about him, but his refrain was in harmony 
 with all. There was no limit to his melodious 
 voice. It scattered the highest notes of the 
 yodel into the air like a shower of golden 
 apples; it descended into the depths of a 
 mellow bass. It lingered through infinite 
 variations on musical words. It was plaintive 
 and trembling with subdued power. As it 
 rose and fell, the murmur below rose and fell 
 with it. It was like the uneven wailing of a 
 tempest through the masts and the washing 
 of the sea. As he spoke, he swayed back and 
 forth, bending far over the pulpit and rolling 
 his eyes to heaven. He used no gestures, but 
 held to the pulpit with both hands, and threw 
 all the power of his magnetism into voice and 
 face and body. 
 
 It was not long before some of the people 
 began to imitate his motion, and immediately 
 the whole vast audience was swaying back and 
 forth. Suddenly he thrust his head and 
 shoulders forward and became silent. A few 
 
of the people grew quiet and watched him. 
 The sound of their responses subsided again 
 into a faint murmur. 
 
 For a moment the preacher remained rigid, 
 then he threw his body back with a quick mo- 
 tion until his head disappeared. In an in- 
 stant he was in exactly the same position as 
 before. He repeated this horrible contortion 
 several times, and at each was greeted with ex- 
 ultant shouts from the old men and women in 
 the room. At last he threw himself into an 
 erect position, and, lifting his face to the ceil- 
 ing, bellowed "Glory, glory," a great number 
 of times and with all the power of his enor- 
 mous lungs. His shouts were like bombs. 
 There was an immediate commotion in the 
 audience. The whole room was filled with 
 shouts, snatches of song, hysterical laughter, 
 and words very much like oaths. An arm shot 
 up here and there. In one corner an old 
 woman jumped from her scat and fell upon 
 the floor in a fit. Another leaped into the 
 
n6 
 
 centre aisle, and, throwing her arms above her 
 head, screamed until the blood dripped from 
 her mouth. Suddenly two or three men and 
 a woman began dancing at one side. The 
 woman was screeching terribly. With one 
 hand she held her skirts to her knees and with 
 the other she was tearing her hair. It was 
 Jemimy. In all quarters little groups were 
 struggling to control some furious man or 
 woman. Everywhere these black creatures of 
 both sexes were sprawling together upon the 
 floor. All this in the name of Christ. It was 
 terrible. Savages trailing the fine robes of 
 the twentieth century through the mire of 
 prehistoric times. 
 
 This wild, untutored native in our midst is 
 like a cub in a pot of honey. It may make a fine 
 fat bear, but it is bad for the honey. The con- 
 tents of this particular pot is the hope of the 
 world. How much longer shall we, the 
 keepers of both, allow the one to defile the 
 other? 
 
1F7 
 
 We have cast pearls before swine. It is 
 barbarism at work witn the tools of civiliza- 
 tion. Shall we build together a government? 
 It is like an ape and an artist at work upon 
 the same statue. 
 
 Thomas Judd had for some time been grow- 
 ing convinced that the negro should not vote. 
 He knew that even in the North the majority 
 of the middle. and higher classes believed this, 
 before coming South. But he had been taught 
 differently. His father was one of the leading 
 politicians in his State and took a politician's 
 view of it. 
 
 He now believed they should not vote. But 
 should they be sent away ? He broached this 
 subject as they left the church. 
 
 "You speak," said the Judge, "as though 
 we proposed to take these fellows by the head 
 and heels and throw them overboard. That 
 is not so. We, or the majority of Southern 
 citizens, who advocate separation, believe we 
 owe them a certain debt, and that in getting 
 
n8 
 
 rid of them we must, so far as possible, com- 
 mit no injustice. We should come to some 
 mutual agreement. It is like getting rid of 
 any objectionable partner. We should buy 
 him out. The nation is rich enough, and 
 even if it were not, it would be a wise invest- 
 ment." 
 
 11 And if they should not wish to go ?" 
 " If you stay here long enough, you will see 
 the answer to that. The old plantation negro 
 will not be likely to leave, but the new gener- 
 ation will. They will never be allowed to rule 
 here, and the ambitious among them will in 
 time desire to seek other fields. They are 
 constantly moving. See how they are pour- 
 ing into the West, as they can well do in 
 floods without affecting materially their 
 numbers here. Some of the colored people 
 might remain if no inducement would tempt 
 them to go. The idle and the low should, if 
 necessary, be compelled." 
 
 " Where would you draw the line ?" 
 
" The line would draw itself if not, then all 
 should be forced to go. Sir, are you not 
 aware that humanity conducts all its affairs 
 upon that plan ? No step has ever been taken 
 in the cause of right where war was neces- 
 sary, where individual claims and ideas were 
 not over-ridden for the gaining of the end in 
 view. Did you of the North consult the wishes 
 of the Chinamen you sent home, or the In- 
 dians you crushed? Did you of the North con- 
 sider long the desires of the South when you 
 sent your armies like an avalanche upon us? 
 
 " No, you worshipped only one god pros- 
 perity and made all others bow the knee. It 
 will not have helped matters in the end to dis- 
 tribute them over our own land. They are a 
 distinct race wherever they are. There can 
 never be affiliation between us. Then, why 
 keep the elements of discord in our midst? 
 Let us be just with the negro, but above 
 all things, be wise for the nation and sepa- 
 rate." 
 
120 
 
 Mr. Judd was thinking: "I believe the Judge 
 is right. Why should he not be ? He is hon- 
 est ; he has a life-long familiarity with the 
 text ; he is wise and thoughtful." He said: 
 " It would be a monstrous undertaking." 
 " True," answered the Judge. " Therefore 
 let us endeavor rather to overcome the actual 
 obstacles than to conceive of possible ones. 
 The greatest stumbling block in the world's 
 way is the habit of hanging on to impedi- 
 ments. The line of all thought should be 
 this : What is intrinsically right ? What is 
 necessary? Then only this early and late, 
 night and day, how can I accomplish it ? " 
 
121 
 
 XI. 
 
 IT was a neat little negro shanty, about five 
 squares from her own home, where Annie 
 was in the habit of going on Sundays. She 
 was now standing on her own porch wait- 
 ing for Joe, the old gardener, her escort 
 upon these occasions. 
 
 She wore no gloves and held a Bible in her 
 hand. A bit of white lace lay lightly upon 
 her soft hair. 
 
 Her mother appeared in the doorway and 
 watched her for a moment silently. 
 
122 
 
 "Annie," she said, "you foolish child, to wear 
 that dress to such a place. You will ruin it." 
 
 Annie looked at the delicate blue cloth and 
 the swansdown in her sleeves. She looked at 
 her beautiful hands, with their dainty fingers 
 tipped with pink nails; at her soft, white 
 wrists; then, without answering her mother, 
 she blushed, and the rosy color crept even to 
 the swansdown about her throat. 
 
 The mother slipped to her side and, putting 
 both arms about her, said : 
 
 " Annie, look at me." 
 
 But Annie lowered her head and blushed 
 the more. The mother kissed her lovely throat 
 and turned away. 
 
 "Mamma," cried Annie, suddenly, stepping 
 in front of her and looking for a moment with 
 misty eyes into her face, " don't think me 
 foolish, but he is not changed at all, only he 
 is wiser and kinder and talks to me as he used 
 to do. I want to please him, and do you 
 think he'll like this dress?" 
 
123 
 
 " I think he will; and will you tell me noth- 
 ing more ?" 
 
 <c There is nothing more to tell," said Annie, 
 as she laughed and kissed her. 
 
 Joe had come. She caught her skirts grace- 
 fully in her hand and passed down the steps. 
 
 All the way to the shanty the laugh lingered 
 in her face, but in the shadows of the dimples 
 was perplexity, uncertainty, and little flitting 
 images of sorrow. 
 
 Love ! Love ! Love ! Ruler of us all ! 
 What art thou ? Where art thou ? 
 
 Joe followed Annie to the door and re- 
 turned. She knocked, and, without waiting 
 for an answer, entered. 
 
 An old, old woman lay upon the bed her 
 face drawn up into a network of wrinkles. 
 It was black, but her delicate features betrayed 
 white blood. She was the descendant of o-ne 
 of the most ancient and noble families of Eng- 
 land. Her father was a visitor at the planta- 
 tion of her mother's master. The smile with 
 
124 
 
 which she greeted Annie, the gentle modula- 
 tion of her voice, her language, her ideas, the 
 soft light of her eyes, were Anglo-Saxon. 
 Her skin was dark. 
 
 " How do you feel to-night, Mammy dear?" 
 
 " Not yet, not yet, honey," said the old lady, 
 patting Annie's face as she stooped to kiss 
 her. 
 
 " The good Lord '11 take me soon. You may 
 kiss me in Heaven. We'll all be white up 
 there. Oh, my God thank God." 
 
 Annie had been so full of new feelings when 
 she entered that she forgot the old lady's 
 whim. She drew the little rocker that was 
 waiting for her up close to the bed, and, taking 
 the dried-up hand in hers, she talked to her. 
 Everything about the interior of the house 
 was clean and orderly. The Judge had hired 
 a good nurse to take care of her. 
 
125 
 
 XII. 
 
 ON the other side of a tumble down fence 
 was another shanty. It was a disreputable 
 looking affair, with its toppling roof, its crum- 
 bling clay chimney, and its battered walls 
 It did not seem to be there to stay, but resem- 
 bled a drunken man who balances himself for 
 a moment on his uncertain legs before stag- 
 gering on. 
 
 In the interior of this one-roomed house 
 were two men, a white and a black. The one 
 
126 
 
 was the orator of the evening before in front 
 of the market-place, the other was Nicholas 
 Blood. 
 
 They were at the close of a long interview. 
 The white man was an anarchist, who had 
 arrived from Chicago a few weeks before to 
 agitate among the negroes. 
 
 He now said, as though in conclusion, rising 
 from his seat: 
 
 " We will fairly sweep the polls away with 
 our flood of black voters. The people are 
 gathering in from the country. You are a 
 great leader, Nicholas Blood; you know what 
 men to use. Everything is under your thumb. 
 All the meetings you have ordered are under 
 way. There are three being held to-night, 
 two on Beal street and one at the Laborer's 
 Exchange/' 
 
 " We got to sen' mo' men to scour de plan- 
 tations. I'll fill de whole damn town up. God 
 in hell, won't I bleed 'em ef I'm counted out. 
 Yo' go to all de meetin's and tell de mem- 
 
127 
 
 b'rs ob my committee to meet me at twelbe 
 o'clock at de Laborers' Exchange. I got 
 a goose ob anodder color to pick befo' 
 den/' 
 
 His dark, forbidding face became terrible 
 as he said this. 
 
 His visitor, with a nervous laugh, left him. 
 No man could be in his presence and feel 
 comfortable. 
 
 A crushing will, so fiendish and brutal as 
 to impress even those sordid minds among 
 which he moved as uncanny and frightful, 
 dwelt always behind his formidable face. It 
 was this and the mystery which he threw 
 about himself, his unknown origin, a certain 
 defined belief that the devil had a hand in it, 
 his dogged persistence, his horrible cruelty, 
 his spirit of revenge that marked his enemy 
 with a seal of death, the body found invari- 
 ably in some secluded nook after offence had 
 been given him ; all these things and his silence 
 made him the grim master among the masses 
 
128 
 
 of his black fellows. Superstition and terror 
 were the reins he held. 
 
 There were two other qualities that gave 
 him success. He was executive and possessed 
 the ability to use in the right places the men at 
 his command. As soon as his visitor was gone, 
 he fell into a peculiar mood. He walked up 
 and down the floor with his hands thrust deep 
 into his pockets and his head dropped upon 
 his chest. If one could have read the secrets 
 of his face they would have seen passion 
 struggling with prudence. 
 
 Nicholas Blood is a type and a prophecy. 
 He is an exaggerated specimen of the Metro- 
 politan negro of to-day, and one of a rapidly 
 increasing class. Of unknown parentage ; 
 whisky, tobacco, the dice and the devil for 
 teachers; envy and hate his ruling impulses. 
 He is desperate, unprincipled, discontented 
 and dangerous. 
 
 There are thousands of these creatures of 
 the night cast from the profligate womb of ig- 
 
I2Q 
 
 norance and begot of depravity bestial, de- 
 formed children half monsters rolled from 
 the bed of licentiousness, naked, into the 
 streets. They feed upon the garbage of civ- 
 ilization. Their vocabulary is like vomit. 
 Were the laws enforced, magistrates must 
 meet the approval of these slimy creatures, 
 must be baptized in mud. But our men are 
 greater than our laws. 
 
 Nicholas Blood held the situation in his 
 hands. He had filled the country with agents, 
 and already the results were felt. He would 
 fill the secret places of the town with vicious 
 men. He would have every legal voter at the 
 polls. His majority would be plain to all. He 
 would rely upon the terror of the whites, at see- 
 ing their city full of strange blacks, for a fair 
 count; if this was not given him he would wait 
 for the favorable moment, unmask his alley- 
 ways and rookeries, and bathe the city in blood. 
 
 Prudence whispered, "Wait, sacrifice your- 
 self until that moment comes." 
 
130 
 
 His most vivid feelings, however, were per- 
 sonal. 
 
 For reasons known mostly to himself, he 
 hated Judge Rector. He hated all humanity, 
 but his hatred of this man was as intense and 
 relentless as hell fire. The fancied evil done 
 him in the wharf-boat was one of a long line 
 received in the court room and out of it for 
 thirty years. The fact that this man was his 
 opponent had added a ten-fold zest to the con- 
 flict. 
 
 But the strongest passions of this monster 
 were physical. He would have outraged an 
 angel. 
 
 Happening to be home one Sunday evening 
 he had seen Annie enter the cabin next door. 
 He had spent an hour of torture walking back 
 and forth in his little room and watching con- 
 stantly from the window until she reap- 
 peared. 
 
 Sunday evenings since then he had haunted 
 the place. 
 
Passion tugged at every fibre of his heart 
 and screeching from its bloody throat. Would 
 not her ruin drive her father mad ? Hate 
 laughed at the conception. 
 
 Passion and prudence, there can be no more 
 unequal contest. The one is a living crea- 
 ture of the present, the other an unborn child 
 of a future, full of vague feelings, that trem- 
 bling thinks itself pregnant, but is not sure. 
 
 After a time he blew out the light, and, lean- 
 ing against the window-casing, looked steadily 
 into the gloomy street. His eyes were more 
 bloodshot than usual. He would sometimes 
 roll them in the direction of the neighboring 
 shanty. But at such times flashes of a terrible 
 light shot from them and he would again 
 glance fiercely up the street. 
 
 It was deserted ; church was not yet out ; 
 there was not a human being in sight. Sud- 
 denly he started from his position, hastened to 
 the door, and out of the house. He ran swiftly 
 at a high board fence that separated the yard 
 
132 
 
 from a narrow alley, and, vaulting it, con- 
 cealed himself in the shadows. 
 
 He had seen some one pass beneath the gas 
 light on the corner, and was now listening 
 eagerly to the sound of approaching steps. 
 They were slow and shambling. 
 
 A feeble old man moved by him; he reached 
 out and gripped him by the neck so tightly 
 that he could not speak, drew him into the 
 alley, deprived him of consciousness by a blow 
 in the face with his fist, gagged and bound 
 him with strips torn from his coat, and threw 
 him to one side. He again took up his posi- 
 tion in the shadows. 
 
 Annie was anxious to reach home early this 
 evening, and grew impatient as the time 
 passed for Joe to come. She had read the old 
 colored woman to sleep and sat with hands 
 fingering thoughtfully the leaves, not thinking 
 of the contents of this book but of other things. 
 
 She looked at her watch and went to the 
 window; it was very quiet outside; she could 
 
133 
 
 see no one. She hesitated a moment and made 
 up her mind to go at once. She threw her bit 
 of lace over her head and, with her Bible in her 
 hand, left the house. As she approached the 
 alley she walked slowly. Within a few feet 
 of it she stopped. What was the matter ? She 
 could not tell. A chill of terror passed over 
 her. Those shadows became suddenly too 
 horrible to peer into. She turned and hast- 
 ened back. 
 
 There was a rush behind her. She heard 
 and tried to run. All the strength passed 
 from her limbs. Her throat was choked. She 
 could not breathe. She stopped and caught 
 the fence with both hands, as though it might 
 protect her. She called once, with what mad 
 hope Heaven only knew, and then 
 
 My God ! what a fight is this ! A virgin 
 for her purity. A woman with pink arid 
 white skin, and dainty blue veins. Her deli- 
 cate limbs fresh from the bath, perfume steal- 
 ing from her as from sweet brier. Fine linen, 
 
134 
 
 laces, silk and soft woolen goods about her; 
 her eyes two wells in whose great depths were 
 the waters of virtue; her soul a meadow in 
 heaven; quivering beneath the brutal caresses 
 of a beast, crushed, beaten, her garments, her 
 hair, her flesh torn. Exposed to the lecher- 
 ous gloating of his eyes, the greedy touch of 
 his hands, the slobbering of his swollen lips. 
 She looks at death, and it is more glorious 
 than Paradise. She knows no more. 
 
XIII. 
 
 JUDGE RECTOR and Thomas Judd walked 
 on in silence for some time after their last 
 conversation. Both were meditating. After a 
 while Mr. Judd asked: 
 
 "Are there no decent people among the full- 
 blooded negroes ? I understand that Nicholas 
 Blood is entirely black, and he is something of 
 a hero, is he not ?" 
 
 "There are those among them," answered 
 the Judge, "who are good-hearted and mean 
 
136 
 
 well. Some have a certain quantity of brains. 
 The most advanced among them, however, 
 are a thousand years behind the very founders 
 of our race. At such statements the whole 
 world clamors out, ' Give them time, educate 
 them. Twenty-five years ago they were slaves. 
 What can you expect of them ?' And we an- 
 swer, 'Give them time, educate them. But 
 meanwhile let us save our own civilization or 
 they will smother it. Take them away from 
 the avaricious and licentious of our own 
 people. Above all, let us separate before 
 there is greater hatred and more blood- 
 shed.'" 
 
 In reality the two men agreed. Mr. Judd 
 had not arrived at this conclusion so much on 
 account of Judge Rector's words, although 
 they had presented the theoretical situation in 
 a new light to him from the very first. It was 
 due to the sights he had witnessed, the actual 
 condition of the race, and the absolute unen- 
 durableness of their presence. 
 
137 
 
 The first utterance of the Judge had sud- 
 denly revealed to him the fact that to consider 
 this question from the standpoint of the ne- 
 gro's convenience alone, was to be worse than 
 one-sided. He saw now that those who prated 
 most about protection for the negro had party 
 interests to serve, or loved to throw mud at 
 the South. They did not seem to care for the 
 ultimate perfection of a government that 
 would be alike benign to all and furnish a 
 solution to the problem of life, if only their 
 political party was perpetuated. Certainly 
 they cared no more for the souls and real wel- 
 fare of the negro than for the financial and 
 social well-being of the South. He began to 
 suspect that the great party of the North cast 
 their nets baited for this shoal of votes, and 
 then through their press and their politicians 
 preached upon the cruelty of fishing and the 
 inalienable rights of these helpless creatures of 
 the deep. It was not until a few days later 
 that he learned that the great party of the 
 
138 
 
 South was doing the same thing with even 
 better prospects of success. He saw then, as 
 all unprejudiced, honest, and patriotic citi- 
 zens must see, that all the difficulties in the 
 way of an immediate settlement were piled up 
 by the politicians of both North and South, 
 who recognize in the negro and the civil war 
 their only weapons. They are like unprin- 
 cipled physicians, who constantly open old 
 wounds that they may have something to do. 
 Take these from them, and they will be 
 brushed aside with the close of to-day. The 
 mummy will no longer be enthroned king. 
 He will find his proper niche in the museum 
 of the past, and General Progress shall be 
 made commander of our hosts. The people 
 shall arise and call him master. There will 
 be a change of front. Honest folks, who have 
 before opposed each other, will join hands. 
 Patriots shall no longer be divided. It will be 
 one step nearer to that time whose glory the 
 Christian and the Optimist must see shining 
 
139 
 
 faintly through the mist of the ages yet to 
 come; the great problem solved; harmony in 
 the relations of humanity; the world ripened 
 by the fulfillment of the seasons, ready to 
 pass into an eternity of spiritual life. 
 
 The two men were walking slowly. Neither 
 of them noticed the long silence, broken at 
 last by the Judge, who said: 
 
 "We will go by way of old Aunt Hope- 
 ful's, and join Annie if she has not yet 
 gone." 
 
 All thought of the negro and his future was 
 at once swept away by the flood of light and 
 music that filled him at the mention of Annie. 
 He bowed his head upon his breast and con- 
 templated her. The great hush that filled this 
 lonely quarter they were passing through had 
 swallowed up the Judge beside him and all the 
 world. 
 
 Silence within is more vast than the uni- 
 verse. It has no end, for it fills the soul. As 
 we peer into it and study the endless sweep of 
 
140 
 
 its heaven, we see a multitude of stars that 
 twinkle there, shedding abroad a soft twi- 
 light until the sun appears, closing their eyes 
 with touches of its glory. 
 
 Then all is made plain and flowers spring 
 up. Memory is a reflection. When the sun is 
 gone, the soul is seen by starlight, vague, un- 
 certain; sometimes it is filled with holiness; 
 often it is lugubrious. 
 
 He was alone with Annie, guiding her 
 through the most secret regions of his soul. 
 His whole being was filled with the presence 
 of his unconscious love. Suddenly the silence 
 was rent with an abruptness that confused 
 him. 
 
 He saw that the Judge was running on in 
 advance, and, coming suddenly to himself, he 
 hurried after. As he turned the corner, he 
 saw a little beyond two people struggling. 
 One was a woman; he saw her torn from the 
 fence to which she held and crushed to the 
 sidewalk He dashed forward. Both men 
 
141 
 
 were agile and powerful and the Judge reached 
 the spot first. The ruffian sprang to his feet 
 and fled. 
 
 Thomas Judd hurried toward the Judge. 
 He was bending over the body at his feet 
 with a look of insanity. His features were 
 distorted with horror. He recovered himself 
 in a moment, and motioning Judd away, picked 
 up the unconscious girl in his arms. 
 
 Mr. Judd saw that it was Annie. Her hands 
 were bleeding; her hair was disheveled. The 
 sidewalk was covered with swan's-down. A 
 tempest of agony and fury swept through 
 him. He caught sight of a negro running 
 into the alleyway and rushed after him. As 
 he reached it, nothing was visible down its 
 narrow dark length; with the memory of that 
 face, white and suffering before him, he plunged 
 into the shadows. Suddenly he stumbled over 
 Joe's body and fell. He heard a muffled groan, 
 and investigated the cause of his fall. Carry- 
 ing the body to the street, he unbound it. As 
 
142 
 
 soon as the man could talk and Mr. Judd 
 could find out who he was, he helped him 
 home and sent him in to inquire for Annie. 
 The Judge came to him. He had grown old 
 within an hour. 
 
 " Tom/' he said gravely, " we must say 
 nothing of this. We white people of the 
 South cannot publish these frequent out- 
 rages. It would ruin us. For Annie's sake 
 we must be silent. You will probably not see 
 her again. She will not wish it." 
 
 The Judge, with a sad smile, held out his 
 hand. Tom took it, wrung it silently and 
 went away. 
 
143 
 
 XIV. 
 
 IN the morning he sent a great bunch of 
 flowers to Mrs. Rector and a note to the 
 Judge asking after Annie. The answer came 
 that she was not injured seriously but was 
 suffering from a terrible shock, and that she 
 would be sent to the mountains, and that then 
 he must come back to them. This news made 
 it possible for him to go with the Colonel 
 when he called for him. It was a magnificent 
 drive to the plantation, which was only a 
 
144 
 
 short distance from the city, but the Colonel 
 took him many miles out of the way in order 
 that he might see the country. 
 
 This whole region had once been covered 
 by a sturdy forest. On every side of them 
 were broad fields filled with little bushes 
 looking as though winter had swept through 
 them, leaving in every available place bunches 
 of snow. Around nearly all the plantations 
 extended the forest of oak and maple and 
 gum trees. Just where the cotton fields ended 
 and the woods began, nestled the negro cab- 
 ins, placed there so that the people in cutting 
 the trees for firewood might clear more land. 
 Occasionally there were strips of country 
 cleared through to the river in the distance, and 
 they could see steamers moving up or down. 
 
 It was about the middle of the morning, 
 and every field was full of laborers. There 
 were four generations. Three working, and 
 the fourth piled altogether near the wagons, 
 left to fight and squall and play. 
 
T45 
 
 Judd did his best to keep the terrible sight 
 he had witnessed from his mind. But it was 
 hard to show any degree of interest in all these 
 things about him. It-was with very little spirit 
 that he asked: 
 
 ft What would you people do down here for 
 labor if you should send the negroes off ?" 
 
 " That's all nonsense. I say leave 'em alone. 
 I reckon they're all right where they are," an- 
 swered the easy-going old Colonel. 
 
 " But there are some who don't think so." 
 
 " Oh, yes, a right smart of 'em, too. My son 
 don't. He's at one of your Northern Colleges, 
 and has a large farm in Ohio that he tends to. 
 He says, ship the negroes off and make room 
 for white laborers. He reckons that one Ger- 
 man or Norwegian farmer is worth twenty 
 niggers. He says, fill up the country with 
 people who can become good Americans 
 within two generations, at least, and this 
 will be the richest portion of the New 
 World." 
 
146 
 
 " But you don't agree with him, eh ?" 
 " Oh, I dunno. He may have the right of 
 it. But I'd hate to see 'em go. I like 'em 
 'round. I've always lived with 'em. They're 
 a shiftless and improvident lot, but we don't 
 need to work hard nor save anything down 
 here. We can raise two or three crops of 
 everything, and don't need to get more than 
 half of each." 
 
 He was a handsome old man. His face was 
 too sensual, and had the appearance of being 
 a trifle too well fed, but there was a gentle, 
 delicate refinement about it that produced a 
 look of benevolence. This whole country was 
 like this face. Beautiful by nature, but stamp- 
 ed with the impress of waste and neglect. 
 They passed frequent swamps filled with the 
 most beautiful cypress trees. No one thought 
 of clearing the land. No one thought of sell- 
 ing the timber. Now and then clumps of 
 cabins or an old residence appeared by the 
 roadside. They were the dwelling places of 
 
filth or desolation. Whenever there was a gate 
 to open, long before they reached it, a rabble 
 of ragged pickaninnies, their black and shin- 
 ing hide everywhere exposed, appeared from 
 some quarter and made a race for it, tum- 
 bling over each other, and howling like young 
 devils. The one who reached it first received 
 a nickel or a dime from the Colonel. 
 
 After many windings about, they reached 
 their journey's end. 
 
 A swarm of good-natured negroes sur- 
 rounded them as they approached the gate. 
 A half dozen unhitched the horses, eight or 
 ten reached into the buggy for bundles and 
 baggage, and all the rest stood around and 
 watched. 
 
 " Where do they all come from ? What are 
 they here for ? How do they live ? Why are 
 they idle ?" asked Mr. Judd. 
 
 " There's plenty of 'em to do the work. 
 I'm the only white man in a thousand. These 
 fellows here haven't spent all their money yet, 
 
i 4 8 
 
 I reckon. They can earn from $8 to $15 a 
 week. There's just one thing that '11 make a 
 nigger work hunger/' 
 
 It was the house gate in front of which they 
 had stopped. A path led from this to the 
 dwelling. Mr. Judd had heard this house 
 spoken of as a model of plantation elegance, 
 and expected to see something of a mansion. 
 It was a low, disjointed affair, possessing 
 neither romance, elegance, nor grace. The 
 whole place was ramshackle and shiftless. It 
 had not seen paint for many years, and was 
 very much stained by the weather. A few 
 rods to one side of the gate stood the planta- 
 tion store. It looked like a Connecticut farm- 
 er's tool-house. The steps, the fence, and the 
 banks of dirt by the roadside were covered 
 with negroes. These lolling fellows appeared 
 very well fed and infinitely lazy. Mr. Judd 
 felt an irresistible desire to sweep the whole 
 plantation clean of men and buildings and 
 begin to construct a new civilization upon the 
 
149 
 
 spot. The Colonel's family were away, and 
 only Uncle Samson and Aunt Ruth were in 
 the house. After dinner Mr. Judd was taken 
 to the gin-house, to the pasture, to the garden 
 where the third crop of potatoes was being 
 dug, and where the second crop of beans was 
 growing, and into the orchard where many of 
 the trees had put forth their blossoms and 
 were bearing small apples for the second time 
 before the first fruit was gathered. 
 
 " You must make a mint of money off vege- 
 tables and fruit/' said Mr. Judd. 
 
 " Bless you, we don't sell any of it. What 
 we don't want we throw away/' 
 
 " Throw away ; why don't you raise hogs ?" 
 
 " What do we want with hogs ? I reckon 
 we can get a right smart living out of 
 cotton." 
 
 " Colonel Essex, there is a fortune wasted 
 on this plantation every year. You should 
 raise other things. I judge there is nothing 
 that will not grow here. The soil which is 
 
150 
 
 a marvel now would be infinitely better for a 
 change of crops." 
 
 " What do we want with better soil ? You're 
 just like my son/' chuckled the contented old 
 gentleman. " I reckon the old way is good 
 enough for me." 
 
 " Here's your moss-back Democrat/' thought 
 Mr. Judd. " Just like our interior Massachu- 
 setts Republicans. It is true that a few men 
 must run the world. The rest are too lazy." 
 
 At supper a negro girl of eighteen or 
 twenty years appeared to wait on them. It 
 was Jemimy. She was the daughter of old 
 Aunt Ruth and her father was ? 
 
 "Well, what do you think of our country ?" 
 asked the Colonel, as they were seated on the 
 wide porch after supper. 
 
 " To be frank with you, there are too many 
 negroes. Why, Colonel, I had no conception 
 of the way they swarm down here. No won- 
 der the ' poor whites ' are driven to the moun- 
 tains ; it is, I should judge, impossible for any 
 
man to compete with these negroes, who don t 
 seem to care how they live." 
 
 " Oh, you'll get used to them if you stay 
 here long. We don't have much trouble with 
 them. They know their place pretty much, 
 though they are becoming a heap more im- 
 pudent in town than they were a few years 
 ago. Well, Jemimy, what is it?" 
 
 " Dis yer city-nigger," said Jemimy, indir 
 eating with a nod a sheepish-looking darky 
 who stood a little behind her, hat in hand 
 and executing a series of humble bows, 
 "he's hyar again, I kain't keep him away 
 nohow." 
 
 "I reckon it's because you don't 'low to," 
 laughed the Colonel, banteringly. 
 
 " B'fo' de Lo'd, Marce Gunnel, I does. But 
 dey isn't no kind o' use, he'd come foolin' 
 aroun', I reckon, if de Lo'd hisself 'lowed he 
 shouldn't." 
 
 "Well, shall I set the dogs on him; is that 
 what you want, Jemimy?" 
 
152 
 
 "Marce Gen'l/' broke in Jock, hastily, "I 
 isn't gwine t' stay hyar no time. Dis yer 
 nigger gal isn' no 'count. I isn' come to see 
 her nohow. I 'lowed to see Marce Gen'l." 
 
 The Colonel good-naturedly requested him 
 to speak. After insisting that Jemimy should 
 retire, Jock told what we can tell in much less 
 time and space. 
 
 Two political agitators from town were 
 holding a meeting in the quarters and were 
 urging the " collahed people " to take part in 
 a big uprising that was to occur on election 
 day. 
 
 "Well, let 'em agitate," cried the Colonel. 
 "You don't reckon I'm going to bother my- 
 self about those damned niggers ? There ain't 
 any one on this plantation got anything to 
 complain of, unless it is that every black 
 beggar among 'em owes me money. You 
 all go down there and tell 'em that if there is 
 any disturbance around here I'll shoot every 
 nigger on the place. Damn 'em/' 
 
153 
 
 He continued, turning to Judd: " The last 
 few years have played the very devil among 
 'em. They move about so much, and every 
 time they move they seem to grow more rest- 
 less. Uprising? What the devil do they rise 
 up for?" 
 
 Tom had intended to remain at the planta- 
 tion several days, or until the Judge should 
 notify him of Annie's departure. This he 
 found was impossible. 
 
 Annie's sorrow had taken the work of time 
 into its own hands. Sympathy, the gossamer 
 from which love is spun, instead of being 
 drawn from him by the fingers of sleepy 
 events, had been wrung out by the hand of 
 disaster. 
 
 He did not say to himself that he loved her, 
 but the thought of her leaving and that he 
 should not see her again for an indefinite 
 length of time, made the monotonous hours of 
 the possible separation stretch out before him 
 until they became unbearable. 
 
154 
 
 Tuesday evening he told the Colonel he 
 must go. The Colonel protested warmly. 
 But he pleaded important business which 
 must be attended to early on the following day 
 and would not yield to the hospitable entrea- 
 ties of his host. With many protestations of 
 regret he took his leave shortly after supper, 
 asking the Colonel to send his " traps " on in 
 the morning, as he wished to walk to town. 
 
 The Colonel, no doubt, but little appreci- 
 ating them, was obliged to submit to the 
 eccentric desires of his guest. 
 
155 
 
 XV, 
 
 IT was only a mile or so to the city. Tom 
 would have liked it better had it been twenty. 
 There had suddenly settled upon him a mel- 
 ancholy that he thought to throw off by the 
 use of his long, powerful limbs, too long idle. 
 He strode hastily through the gate and down 
 the road. As he looked over the earth and 
 saw all about him the half-tended fields bear- 
 ing their profligate luxuriance, and the clus- 
 tering cabins peeping from the forests and 
 
156 
 
 making their nests in the midst of the mead- 
 ows like toads in a forsaken paradise ; as he 
 caught snatches of exquisite melody from 
 here and there, floating to him as from the 
 lips of some lovely nymph imprisoned; as he 
 thought first of the voluptuous cheeks and 
 double chin of the white-haired planter, and 
 then of this whole country, breathed upon by 
 the warm breath of indolence and caressed by 
 the enervating fingers of licentiousness; as 
 he remembered the rumors of riot and blood- 
 shed that filled the air, a fierce sadness arose 
 within him and beat with hot hands upon his 
 brain and heart. 
 
 He was like a strong man plodding through 
 a vast wilderness, looking always for the end 
 where there is no end. The mass of longgrasses 
 and brittle weed that caught his feet, the stub- 
 born entanglement of bushes that thwarted his 
 vision and stung his face, the trees that hung 
 like a cloak between him and heaven these 
 were like the problems of humanity. 
 
157 
 
 His soul was in a tempest. 
 
 But there were open places in the wilder- 
 ness, green meadows filled with violets and 
 white clover; bowers through which the stars 
 shone; streams that dimpled in the sunlight; 
 places in the road where the shadows of the 
 leaves fell like freckles on the silvery dust. 
 
 There were lulls in the tempest. 
 
 The open places were filled with Annie 
 picking flowers in the meadow draped in sun- 
 light, more mysterious than the stars. Her 
 smile the dimpling of the stream, her eyes 
 like the shining dust, flecked with shadows. 
 
 The storm ceased at her coming. She was 
 the mistress of its sigh. 
 
 Suddenly he came to a bend in the road and 
 saw in front of him a man hurrying, as he 
 was, toward the city, whose church steeples 
 could now be seen, blurred in the gloom, but 
 plain against the moonlit sky. Beyond this 
 man was a cross road; as he looked, another 
 man came from it and turned also toward the 
 
158 
 
 city. He gazed over the fields to the right 
 and left and saw here and there moving fig- 
 ures. He glanced hastily behind him. A 
 man was following, and in the distance he 
 thought he could distinguish others. 
 
 He recognized all those near enough as 
 negroes. They moved as though in stealth. 
 There were no groups, but every figure was 
 alone. They all carried sticks that might 
 have served either for a club or staff. At first 
 he was alarmed. But no one noticed him. 
 There was no word spoken or signal given 
 one to another. Each might have been the 
 solitary being in a universe. In place of ter- 
 ror the spirit of mystery seized him. There 
 was nothing natural about all this. There 
 was something hidden. The night was charged 
 with dread. 
 
 When he reached the city it was midnight. 
 Had the sleeping houses opened their heavy 
 lids they would have been startled at the 
 strange figures creeping through the streets. 
 
159 
 
 It was seventy-two hours before election 
 day, and the restless negroes throughout all 
 that portion of Tennessee were moving at 
 night toward Memphis. 
 
i6o 
 
 XVI. 
 
 ALL that night Tom saw Annie in his rest- 
 less dreams, and in the morning his first 
 thought was of her. Was she suffering now ? 
 Did she care to see him ? Or did she not 
 think of him ? He must know. 
 
 He found himself walking in the direction 
 of Judge Rector's home. What should he do ? 
 He could not decide. He came to the gate and 
 hesitated. Should he go in ? He could not. 
 What excuse could he offer ? He glanced at 
 
the windows. The blinds were closed. Per- 
 haps she had gone away. An unbearable 
 loneliness came over him. For the first time 
 he realized how completely she had filled his 
 thoughts and the future of his life. 
 
 The future there is nothing so delicate. 
 It rises from the present like incense from a 
 flower. There is nothing so changeable. It 
 is like the vague, flitting, undecipherable 
 shadow of the firelight on the wall. It alters 
 with the substance of every moment. We 
 catch a glimpse of it, we ponder over it we 
 look again, it is not there. Another shape is 
 in its place, sometimes more beautiful, yet 
 more often it is terrible. 
 
 Where had she gone? 
 
 Was there no message for him ? 
 
 He was forgotten. 
 
 Why not? What was he to her? 
 
 Suddenly he saw her in the garden. The 
 sunlight dazzled him. The perfume of the 
 flowers took his breath away. 
 
1 62 
 
 XVII. 
 
 A WOMAN is miserable if not as spotless as 
 a new lily. There are women who cannot see 
 that which is unclean without longing for the 
 toilet. Such suffer by insult the shame of 
 guilt. Annie recovered consciousness before 
 reaching home. She shuddered in her father's 
 arms. She did not look at him. He laid her 
 on her bed, and when the mother came she 
 hid her face and moaned : 
 
 " Let me die, I am a wretch. Oh God, 
 why must I live ?" 
 
163 
 
 " Annie \" 
 
 " How can you bear to be near me ?" 
 " Come, darling, I will undress you." 
 "No, no !" she gasped wildly, and, spring- 
 ing up, she attempted to undress herself, 
 while her mother watched her through 
 streaming tears. But her hands trembled so 
 that she could not undo her dress. She sank 
 back upon the bed. Her mother took off the 
 dainty shoes and silk stockings, the woolen 
 dress and underskirts of fine linen and 
 edges of lace. Annie buried her face in the 
 pillow and moaned. The mother would 
 have no one in the room. She was serv- 
 ant. 
 
 There are mothers who are like reeds 
 shaken in the strong wind of their affection. 
 They know no sorrows of their own, but the 
 troubles of their children suffocate them. 
 Humble and claiming nothing for themselves 
 they believe God honored in blessing those 
 whom they love. 
 
164 
 
 Their children are the very centre of their 
 souls. Their breath is the beating of their 
 hearts. If they suffer, every fibre of life pants 
 for immediate relief. 
 
 Clothed in a robe as white and dainty as 
 though spun of cobwebs, Annie was at last 
 tucked snugly into bed. She was more quiet 
 now. With balm on her hands and a mother's 
 love anointing her soul, she fell asleep sob- 
 bing fitfully even then. 
 
 In her dreams the angels lifted her to 
 Heaven and sprinkled on her brow the water 
 of virtue. 
 
 As the next day passed, she grew melan- 
 choly. She had been expecting something. 
 What ? She could not say. A hope at which 
 she did not dare to look had trembled in her 
 heart. It vanished with the twilight. There 
 was nothing said of him. He did not come to 
 the house. She would have been frightened 
 at meeting him and yet would she never 
 see him again ? What a weary thing life is ! 
 
i6 5 
 
 On the second day she left the house and 
 stole into the garden. Sadness, like a veil, 
 enveloped her. Of what was she thinking? 
 Who need ask ? 
 
 A woman's soul is like a SKiff upon the in- 
 finite ocean of love, which may be found in the 
 calm of morning resting lightly on the sands, 
 but when the sea is roused, is swept away. 
 And how quickly is the sea aroused ! First a 
 gentle breath, suddenly the tempest. 
 
 Love? But there is no definition for it. It 
 is not an accident, a chance, a thing which 
 may come. It is not an ideal dweller of some 
 other realm that must be sought if found, that 
 must be wooed to come to us. Its birth- 
 place is within us. It is the very centre 
 of life. Perhaps it is the composition of 
 the soul. 
 
 It cannot be likened to the sea ; it cannot 
 be likened to a garden. It is infinite. It con- 
 tains all things ; the heavens above the earth, 
 where the stars twinkle at the million dark 
 
1 66 
 
 gateways of eternity ; the caverns under the 
 earth that penetrate the mysteries of self 
 where we hesitate to tread for fear of being 
 lost the realm of insanity. 
 
 Would you see the fruit of all this ? Behold 
 the earth. It is covered with verdure. The 
 wealth of the verdure is a multitude of buds. 
 Every bud knows its own sunbeam at whose 
 kiss it unfolds its leaves and pours out its per- 
 fume. This is the final offering of the soul. 
 It is the breath of love. 
 
 There are few women who are strong 
 enough to sustain silent love. 
 
 Annie's little hands trembled as they ca- 
 ressed the flowers. Her step was like that of 
 the blind. How little we know of that other 
 self with which we are constantly commun- 
 ing but which we seldom recognize. 
 
 It was this, that needs no eyes to see. that 
 whispered to Annie now as she bent above the 
 fragrant lips of an opening rose. 
 
 " He is coming." 
 
She heard the whisper. Strength forsook 
 her as though it were made-up of wings. 
 Her hand faltered out in search of some sup- 
 port ; finding none, it dropped helplessly at 
 her side. She bowed her head and waited. 
 
 " Annie. " 
 
 The voice so gentle, strong, and with a 
 little beseeching in it, seemed to bring her the 
 power to live. She turned away her face to 
 conceal her tears. 
 
168 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 THE next day business was allowed to take 
 care of itself nothing was thought of but pol- 
 itics. 
 
 Through all the streets and in every office 
 excited groups gathered from time to time. 
 All were alarmed at the congregation of ne- 
 groes. The city was already full of them. Mr. 
 Judd was surprised that in all of these dis- 
 cussions nothing was said of the election it- 
 self, but only of that which might come 
 
i6 9 
 
 afterward. He heard Judge Rector already 
 spoken of as president of the council. But it 
 seemed to him that, counting only those who 
 could legally vote, the negroes must out- 
 number the whites, who were divided among 
 themselves. The negro voter was not spoken 
 of, it was the negro mob that was feared. Oc- 
 casionally a company of citizens or a uni- 
 formed guard marched through the street to 
 the merry whistle of the fife and the clamor 
 of the drum. They were passing to or from 
 the drill. 
 
 Tom, on entering the hotel, late in the day, 
 heard the voice of Judge Rector. He turned 
 to one side so as not to be seen by him. He 
 wished him to see Annie first. 
 
 One of the leading Democratic politicians 
 of the city was saying, as he passed : 
 
 " Such a move would be death to Democ- 
 racy. What, send the negro off? One-half 
 the population of the South ? Have you not 
 noticed, Judge, that the younger generation 
 
170 
 
 of niggers are voting with us rather than with 
 white Republicans ? The time will come when 
 all this swarm will be Democrats, provided we 
 work them right. And meanwhile we can 
 vote for them." 
 
 A shrewd wink and laugh closed this sen- 
 tence. 
 
 " Sir/' answered the Judge, severely, 
 " would you sacrifice the future of the coun- 
 try, and the speedy coming of the kingdom of 
 God, that the Democracy might live ? It is 
 such doctrine as this that is damning us both 
 North and South. Are you not afraid that 
 while the Republican and Democratic parties 
 are fighting like dogs for the government, the 
 devil will run off with it ?" 
 
 " By God!" answered the politician, "I would 
 rather it would go to hell than be run by Re- 
 publicans." 
 
 There was no want of excitement at any 
 hour of the twenty-four. All day long troops 
 were drilling and anxious men were con- 
 
suiting among themselves. At night there 
 were torchlight processions and great mass 
 meetings. 
 
 No one knew what might happen. The 
 whole city was full of forebodings. Ominous 
 sounds came from Beal street at midnight, 
 and stole like evil spirits to the bedside of 
 sleepless multitudes. 
 
 Belated travelers told of suspicious figures 
 skulking among the shadows, of alleyways 
 filled with strange sleepers, of hidden nooks 
 from which peered brutal faces, of deserted re- 
 cesses where stood the silent sentinels of some 
 sinister event. 
 
172 
 
 XIX. 
 
 THE Laborers' Exchange is a two-story 
 shanty on Hadon avenue, a short distance 
 from Beal street. On the ground floor is a 
 saloon, over the door of which is painted in 
 red letters : 
 
 A SANWICH, A PIE 
 
 AND A SKUNER OF BEER 
 
 10 CENTS. 
 
 Over the saloon are two rooms, one large 
 and overlooking the street ; the other small 
 with a window opening above a yard filled 
 
173 
 
 with slops, ashes, beer kegs, and empty bottle 
 cases. 
 
 A door of rough planks divides the two. 
 
 In the smaller one, Nicholas Blood and a ne- 
 gro barber woman were consulting. The wo- 
 man was a monstrous creature, with a dirty 
 rag wound about the crown of her head. 
 From this to her enormous shoulders was a 
 gradual slope upon all sides. One sleeve torn 
 off revealed a brawny arm. Her dress was 
 unbuttoned to her waist. She looked at Nich- 
 olas Blood when he spoke, with admiration 
 visible upon her animal face. She was an 
 absolute beast. He was more ferocious and 
 cunning. 
 
 " When F go'n' do 't ?" asked the woman. 
 
 Nicholas Blood answered, as he dismissed 
 her, "Befo' mornV." 
 
 Lying upon the floor in the larger room was 
 another woman. She lay upon her back, as 
 though she had fallen there. She was half- 
 naked. Both arms were outstretched upon 
 
174 
 
 the floor. In one hand she held the neck of a 
 whisky bottle. Fragments of glass were 
 strewn about her. There was no evidence of 
 wasted liquor. 
 
 Every drop was visible in the swollen face. 
 When the visitor was gone, Nicholas Blood 
 approached her. 
 
 " Hyah ! yo've slept long 'nuff." 
 
 He leaned over and spit upon her. She did 
 not move. He kicked her. A stream of blood 
 trickled from her nose. He bent down and 
 examined her. 
 
 She was dead. 
 
 With an oath he turned away. 
 
 He paced the floor until nearly evening, 
 busy with his plans. As the shadows began 
 to approach, he picked the woman from the 
 floor, and placed her on a table standing at one 
 side. He covered her with a ragged overcoat. 
 
 It was the night before election. 
 
 The climax of his life was approaching. In 
 this hour he knew that in the end was defeat, 
 
175 
 
 but before that time, tumult and horror should 
 leap from his hand. Those whom he hated 
 should wallow in their own blood. He looked 
 at his terrible arms, and laughed at his power 
 to kill. 
 
 A few hours from that time a company of 
 negroes were gathered in the room,, and an 
 unlimited amount of whisky was brought 
 from below. The negroes drank among them- 
 selves and grew boisterous. 
 
 Nicholas Blood, the anarchist, and two 
 others were alone in the smaller room, mak- 
 ing the last arrangements for the morrow. 
 
 These three were his counsellors. Those in 
 the other room were all picked men, under 
 whom the masses acted. 
 
 Such men as Philander Matthews and the 
 clerk of the court were used only for public 
 meetings and the like. They knew nothing 
 whatever of the doings of this body. 
 
 When the plans were complete, the four 
 stepped into the larger room. 
 
176 
 
 As soon as Nicholas Blood appeared the re- 
 velers became quiet, and dropped their eyes 
 or looked at him askance. A new manifesta- 
 tion of his vengeance had been given them 
 that night. As they were passing in a body 
 along Beal street, they were stopped by the 
 barber woman in front of her door. She told 
 them to follow her. They filed through the 
 shop and found there Jock. 
 
 " I foun' 'im eer jes' now," said the woman. 
 
 The men at once recalled the quarrel in the 
 slop-shop, and without a word hurried to obey 
 the summons of their chief. 
 
 They did not notice the blood spots on the 
 barbers chair. Poor Jock good-natured and 
 generous, must you, and those like you, be 
 victims of this coming strife? 
 
 Let us draw the curtain across the fiendish 
 ceremonies that ensued. 
 
 Voodouism has been described. It will, there- 
 fore, not be necessary to record the horrors 
 invoked to play upon the superstitious terrors 
 
177 
 
 of these semi-civilized savages. It is certain 
 that the dead woman played her part in the 
 taking of oaths and the terrible warnings 
 given. Death was the unseen deity that pre- 
 sided there, and, with her spectral fingers 
 stained, the orders issued were a ghastly 
 crimson. It was a red, red wine, drunk to 
 the health of Old Nick that night. 
 
 How simple and how terrible these orders 
 were we shall see. 
 
178 
 
 XX. 
 
 ELECTION day dawned clear and cold. Day- 
 light found the streets in great disorder. 
 Swarms of rioters had passed all night un- 
 challenged in them. No attempt had been 
 made to keep the peace. All were afraid to 
 precipitate the disaster that threatened from 
 every side. By doing nothing to provoke re- 
 bellion it was hoped the storm might be 
 averted. The city had telegraphed to Nash- 
 ville and Chattanooga for help. The answer 
 
179 
 
 came back that all the men that could be 
 spared would go, but that certain mysterious 
 discoveries made it necessary to keep a suffi- 
 cient number to protect their own cities in 
 case of an uprising among the negroes. 
 
 Early in the morning these re-enforcements 
 arrived, and, together with all the home guards 
 and bands of citizens, marched through the 
 city in order to overawe the rioters. 
 
 Every one who could vote was at the polls. 
 Long before the time great lines were formed 
 and the balloting was heavy from the first. 
 
 At the beginning the prevailing color was 
 white, but the line grew rapidly darker until it 
 became almost black. Men were constantly 
 challenged, but there were no illegal voters 
 found. Such were unnecessary. The end 
 would have been the same, whoever counted 
 actually the most votes. 
 
 Judge Rector was elected and the negroes, 
 contrary to expectations and fears, quietly 
 disbanded. Here and there some drunken 
 
i8o 
 
 darkey made a disturbance, but the great ma- 
 jority of them scarcely murmured as the mass 
 melted away. 
 
 The Judge, Thomas Judd, and a few other 
 gentlemen had watched the streets from the 
 Peabody ;Hotel during the day. When the 
 balloting was over the Judge turned to Mr. 
 Judd and asked him home to six o'clock din- 
 ner. 
 
 On the way to the house, he said, taking 
 Tom's arm: 
 
 " You have seen Annie." 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 The Judge pressed his companion's arm and 
 both men were silent for some time, then 
 they spoke of Col. Essex's plantation, and the 
 election. 
 
 The ladies met them on the steps, eager for 
 the news. Annie was nearly herself again. 
 Despair cannot dwell with hope. In youth 
 the past pales before the glory of the 
 future. 
 
" Was there any riot ?" asked both the ladies 
 in a breath. 
 
 " Everything was quiet." 
 
 " Would it remain so ?" asked Mrs. Rector, 
 looking at her husband, because she did not 
 wish to observe that Mr. Judd still held her 
 daughter's hand. 
 
 "It was more than likely. The negroes 
 were frightened by the troops. There might 
 be some little trouble, but not much." 
 
 During the evening Tom said : 
 
 " I could not understand at first, Judge, 
 how you could accept such an election as the 
 one of to-day. The negroes surely cast the 
 most votes." 
 
 " But you do now. It is logical enough. If 
 I believe it just to break the law, I must not 
 shirk my share of the responsibility. I did 
 not wish the office. But a man to do his duty 
 as a citizen must not withhold his influence in 
 public affairs. I believe that every honest 
 man should accept the nomination offered 
 
182 
 
 him, with a complete understanding between 
 his purposes and his constituency." 
 
 After this, the conversation turned upon the 
 old days of slavery and the war. 
 
 " Father," said Mrs. Rector, " I believe that 
 Mr. Judd would be interested in some of the 
 contents of our old relic chest in the garret. 
 I will go and get them." 
 
 Relics what are they but fragments of the 
 heart ? A few stray bits within a basket, 
 found by chance among the rubbish of some 
 dusty chest ; others look through cobwebs at 
 a heap of common bits. You peer through 
 the gossamer of forgetfulness at a multitude 
 of spirits hovering near them. 
 
 Love is the life of relics. A friend holds up 
 a stone. It is an indifferent thing. 
 
 "Take it/' he says ; "it is cold within your 
 hand." You look at him. There is a ruddy 
 light in his eyes. " My sweetheart dropped it 
 from her window into my hand. It was life to 
 me I" 
 
What has become of the stone ? It has been 
 touched by love. It is transformed. You hold 
 a heart within your hand. 
 
 The old folks fingering these trinkets told 
 romances. Tom and Annie read them in 
 each other's eyes. 
 
 They talked of the Rebellion. It was the 
 same. 
 
 War is for the perpetuation of the country. 
 The country is for the protection of the home. 
 The home is the very nesting-place of love. 
 
 This is the law of life. All things work- 
 ing together produce harmony, and working 
 together in harmony produce all things. God 
 is the spirit of harmony. He who cannot 
 love is a discord. To abandon one's self to 
 love is to become a part of life. Is the af- 
 fection for another being love ? It is a part of 
 it. To fill one's self full of God is to love. It 
 is to work together in harmony with all 
 things. And marriage ? That is another 
 matter. It is a necessity of our times. It is 
 
i8 4 
 
 law substituted for love, which is divinity. 
 It is a stitch in the torn raiment of humanity. 
 Law is itself a substitute. Why do we need 
 it ? Because men have refused to work to- 
 gether in God. They must be .protected 
 therefore one from another. 
 
 Do I present a paradox in withholding from 
 this group of four the element of discord ? It 
 is around such centres that the kingdom of 
 God revolves. There are those who do not 
 sit in the shadow of prejudice. When such 
 meet, they shake hands, even if their fingers do 
 not touch. They walked together in the 
 sunlight of the eternal. 
 
 Torn did not wish to be alone with Annie,, 
 He talked with the Judge and Mrs. Rector. 
 Annie loved best to listen. Her intelligent, 
 sympathetic eyes were an inspiration to those 
 who looked into them. 
 
 It was not long before the relics were laid 
 aside, and the past gave place to the present 
 and the future. 
 
185 
 
 " It is not necessary to judge souls," said the 
 Judge ; " we must not hate the negro because 
 we know him to be beastly. It should not be 
 hatred that sends them off. God surely did 
 not hate the devil ; yet in order to preserve 
 a perpetual type of perfection it was neces- 
 sary to divide the inhabitants of heaven. If 
 we can but preserve only the elements which 
 may be made to harmonize, in time America 
 may become a type." 
 
 "What we need/' said Tom, " is a regula- 
 tion of the ballot that will require every man 
 to write his own ticket and the purpose of his 
 vote. We have ignorant and depraved white 
 people as well as negroes all over the land." 
 
 " I believe in such a regulation of the vote," 
 answered the Judge. " It will come in time. 
 The negroes are no worse than ignorant, de- 
 praved whites. I have heard that fact quoted 
 as an argument why the negro should not be 
 asked to emigrate. It is not to the point. A 
 depraved German may have had a very fine 
 
1 86 
 
 grandfather and his grandson may become an 
 American statesman. A negro will be forever 
 a negro, and the member of a nation infinitely 
 behind us, without amalgamation. I did not 
 show you, Tom, the terrors of Beal street in 
 the spirit of reproach, but that you might see 
 the effects of freedom, their unrestrained con- 
 tact with the evil-minded of our own race, 
 and the utter impossibility of any harmonious 
 action as citizens between them and us. So 
 long as they are here, whether as freemen or 
 as slaves, they will be the prey of the licen- 
 tious of our own race. They will be petted, 
 debauched, and agitated for their votes. The 
 lawless will secure them as followers. They 
 will fatten at the sewers of progress. Envy 
 of our superiority will ferment among them. 
 In time, anarchy will seek its stronghold in 
 their midst. Their powers of reproduction 
 will, within a single century, make them nu- 
 merically our equals, and the threat of to-day 
 in this city will be the disaster of America." 
 
"I cannot believe," said Mrs. Rector, anx- 
 iously, " that we are to have a quiet night. 
 Annie, shall we make you up a bed in our 
 room ?" 
 
 "I feel perfectly safe," answered Annie. 
 
i88 
 
 XXI. 
 
 IN the night Annie was awakened from a 
 deep sleep It was an instantaneous plunge 
 from the shadows into self. There was no 
 sound. No noise had aroused her. It was 
 terror. The darkness and silence gave birth 
 to a troop of forebodings that thronged 
 about her like a multitude of imps. It was 
 unbearable. Her heart fluttered and stood 
 still. Every nerve trembled and her staring 
 eyes sought desperately to pierce the night 
 
for those hideous objects that imagination 
 fills it with. It was not possible to remain 
 there. Made bold by the overwhelming weight 
 of her apprehension, she crept from the bed 
 and fled through the terrible halls and down 
 the interminable stairway toward the room 
 of her father and mother. 
 
 Never since she was a little girl had such a 
 feeling possessed her. Was it caused by the 
 recent horror that still retained its impress 
 on her brain and the general expectancy which 
 she had shared, that something terrible was 
 to occur? This might have had its influence. 
 But it was more than all else due to that sub- 
 tle something that unites souls, that draws 
 the father across the world to the bedside of 
 his child, that suddenly announces as you sit 
 cosily in your own quarter the death of a 
 friend. It was this that needs no sleep, that 
 wanders off when we slumber and returns 
 laden with dreams to awaken us, which com- 
 ing suddenly upon a ghastly sight had rushed 
 
I go 
 
 tumultuously back to her and tore at her very 
 heart-strings with its tidings. 
 
 She was arrested at the threshold by terror 
 which once again laid its hand upon her. She 
 leaned against the door and sought to tear 
 from the darkness its secrets. The shutter 
 of one of the windows had been opened. 
 Suddenly a red flame shot up to the sill, 
 and its light flashed for an instant into the 
 room. 
 
 She saw a brutal figure bending over the 
 bed. 
 
 As the darkness swept round her again, 
 she heard a sharp knife drawn swiftly 
 through flesh, and a low, rushing, gurgling 
 sound. Her head became suddenly light. 
 Everything grew vague and unreal. She was 
 not conscious of what she did. The win 
 dow-sill caught fire, and the murderer 
 straightening himself saw Annie with white 
 face and wide vacant eyes listening like an 
 angel at the door of hell. She turned and 
 
groped her way up the stairs. He followed 
 her. 
 
 Tom, on retiring to his room, had thrown 
 himself half dressed upon the couch. He was 
 awakened by a sound at his door. As his eyes 
 opened a light flared into them. He raised 
 himself on his elbow and looked from the 
 window. The light came from a burning house. 
 He tried to recollect what had roused him. 
 As he listened, he heard something fall softly 
 against his door. He sprang up and opened 
 it. He was face to face with Nicholas Blood. 
 At his feet lay Annie. 
 
 Nicholas Blood drew back at the sight of 
 this tremendous man in front of him. It is 
 the most perfect strength that is not shown so 
 much in bulk as by an atmosphere of vigor 
 that is part of it. 
 
 Tom mastered every inch of his large frame 
 so easily that no one ever realized how big he 
 was. He gave to those who saw him an idea 
 of power without attracting too much atten- 
 
tion to himself. It was this atmosphere sur- 
 rounding him that rebuffed Nicholas Blood for 
 the moment. 
 
 Thomas Judd fearing thai in the struggle 
 Annie would be trampled on, sprang over her, 
 and grappling with the great, black brute 
 upon the other side, endeavored to push him 
 from her. 
 
 He knew at once that the contest would be 
 formidable. He found himself struggling with 
 two huge arms that hugged him until his ribs 
 bent inward. He passed his right hand across 
 the monstrous shoulders, straininga little lower 
 than his own, and gripped the muscle of the 
 negro's fore-arm. With his left he seized one 
 of the wrists at his waist and wrenching it from 
 him, hurled the negro some distance from the 
 door and followed after. Nicholas Blood re- 
 covered himself withahowlof rage. He slipped 
 his razor from his sleeve, opened it and made a 
 pass at Judd, who caught the blow upon his 
 left arm. The blade was buried in the flesh. 
 
193 
 
 Thomas Judd on the instant caught a 
 glimpse of his opponent's throat exposed and 
 planted his fist upon it; his whole weight was 
 in the effort. It stopped the negro's breath and 
 sent him staggering against the wall. He re- 
 peated the blow. The negro fell heavily upon 
 the floor. Before he could recover Tom rushed 
 upon him, picked him bodily from the floor 
 and dashed him headlong into the hall below. 
 He lay quivering in a heap where he fell. 
 The hall was full of smoke. He laid Annie 
 tenderly upon his bed and rushed down stairs 
 for her mother. The whole lower part of 
 the house was in flames. He dashed through 
 them to the bed-chamber. He returned stag- 
 gering, his face white and horrified. But 
 there was no time to think of what he had 
 seen. He must hurry to Annie even her 
 rescue might now be impossible. He re- 
 turned with a few bounds to his room and 
 took her in his arms. The great stairs were 
 afire. It was dangerous to attempt the 
 
I 9 4 
 
 descent. He re-entered his room and ran 
 to the window. It was not too far to jump. 
 He threw up the sash, and, holding her with 
 one arm, dragged mattress and clothes 
 from the bed and tumbled them to the 
 ground. These broke the fall somewhat, but 
 Annie was aroused by the shock. A vague 
 sense of something terrible haunted her. She 
 threw both arms about Tom's neck and clung 
 to him desperately. 
 
 This was, indeed, a rude awakening. But 
 they had no time to recover from it. It was 
 necessary to get out of sight. All over the 
 city were burning buildings. 
 
 A sound arose, composed of cries of hate and 
 terror, oaths, coarse laughter and the clamor 
 of despair. It was a banquet of blood. Min- 
 gling with the sound of revelry rose the wails 
 of butchered victims. 
 
 Disciplined troops were useless. They 
 rushed frantically here and there, but could 
 find nothing to fight but flames. 
 
Sometimes they saw a cluster of negroes set- 
 ting fire to a house and shot into them. If 
 they met a mob they would charge upon it. 
 It would disappear over fences and down al- 
 leyways, leaving in its wake a multitude of 
 fires and the mangled bodies of the helpless. 
 Their object was to destroy. 
 
 There had been no onslaught by a mass of 
 men. In the middle of the night solitary fig- 
 ures and groups of three arose from the 
 bushes in every portion of the city decoyed by 
 the silence into a disastrous sleep. 
 
 They applied the torch and entered the bed- 
 chambers. It was the advent of Assassination, 
 the genius of this coming strife. 
 
 The only crowd that had collected was near 
 the market on Beal street. This was composed 
 of a rabble of men and women. They had 
 swarmed about this locality for hours, watch- 
 ing the gradual spreading of the bonfires 
 all about them through the night and 
 
I(y6 
 
 greeting every new blaze with fresh bursts 
 of joy. 
 
 Some one suggested that they rush in a 
 body through the town and destroy all strag- 
 glers. 
 
 The mob at once obeyed. With the instinct 
 of crowds they poured out upon the street and 
 dashed all together in one direction, greeting 
 all those inspired cries that come from great 
 bodies of excited men, like flashes from a 
 thunder cloud, with shouts and frantic yells. 
 
 As they passed the house of Philander Mat- 
 thews, ali-tle old man rushed from the gate, 
 his white hair disheveled and his blue eyes 
 bright with agony. He waved his arms and 
 called to them to stop. They answered him 
 with savage cries. He ran into their midst, 
 begging of them madly to stop. He was swept 
 from his feet, and trampled on by the ruthless 
 mob. They vanished into the night, but he 
 did not move. The blood stained his soft 
 locks with crimson. 
 
i 9 7 
 
 The levee was all ablaze with light. Five 
 thousand cotton bales were burning on it 
 The compress factories and oil mills appeared 
 like mountains of fire in the distance. Nearly 
 all the boats along the shore were ablaze. 
 After infinite labor and many retreats into 
 alleyways and dark recesses to escape the 
 mob, Tom made his way here and hurried 
 down the steep descent, with Annie still half 
 unconscious in his arms. The hot paving 
 stones burned his feet. 
 
 Some distance down the river was a steam- 
 boat untouched by the flames. 
 
 He found a hiding-place in its shadows. 
 
 He sank down exhausted. Annie still clung 
 to his neck with all her strength. He could 
 scarcely breathe, but he did not unfasten those 
 stifling arms. His face was bleeding. His 
 body was bruised by the missiles of his pur- 
 suers. His bare feet were cut and blistered 
 by the hot stones. As he was panting in this 
 momentary retreat, he heard the noise of the 
 
198 
 
 rioters. They were coming there. There was 
 but one way out the river. 
 
 He hastily tore a strip of cloth from his gar- 
 ments and tied Annie's wrists together about 
 his neck. He stepped to the edge of the boat, 
 and letting himself gently into the water, 
 struck out from shore. They disappeared in 
 the shadows. 
 
 Even as we see beyond the night an old age 
 of love and usefulness awaiting them, may we 
 not, with an equal trust in the heroism of our 
 country, pierce this forecast of gloom, and see 
 beyond peace and prosperity ? 
 
I 9 9 
 
 XXII. 
 
 THE United States census of 1880 gives 
 Memphis a population of 33,592 ; of this 
 number, 15,000 are colored. 
 
 To-day a population of 80,000 is claimed. 
 The negroes have increased much more rapid- 
 ly than the whites. 
 
 This prophecy of Blood and Ashes is spoken 
 of Memphis, because the author is more fa- 
 miliar with it than with other cities of the 
 South. 
 
With the exception of its " Dark " side, there 
 can be no more magnificent metropolis. In 
 1888 its aggregate clearings and balances were 
 $136,865,017.90. All this wealth and the 
 beauty it has built is at the mercy of thirty- 
 five or forty thousand creatures of another 
 blood, the majority of whom are unprincipled. 
 Ferocious may seem too strong a word to ap- 
 ply to this people. If you think so, study our 
 modern metropolitan negro, and, laying aside 
 the roseate illusions of our romancers, tremble 
 at the future with them among us. The char- 
 acters and incidents of Southern life hereto- 
 fore presented have been of a more genial 
 kind. Thank God such do exist. But the 
 characters and possibilities of this sketch arc 
 true also. The whole great South is at last 
 awakening from its long sleep. But across the 
 face of her new and glorious day rests this 
 ominous shadow. 
 
THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE LAST DATE 
 STAMPED BELOW 
 
 RENEWED BOOKS ARE SUBJECT TO IMMEDIATE 
 RECALL 
 
 
 
9 516968 
 
 Henry, A. 
 
 Nicholas Blood, 
 candidate. 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 DAVIS