PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS 
OF 
SHERMAN'S CAMPAIGNS. 
IN 
a- E o IR, a-1 .A. 
AND THE 
BY CAPT. GEORGE W. PEPPER. 
ZANE8VILLE, OHIO: PUBLISHED BY HUGH DUNKB, 
n ADJomm oow H<mn, 
1866. 
 
 5*K ?*'-.": 
Copyright, 1895, BY Louis PENDLETON. 
JOBH WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE, U. S. A. 
 
 THE AFRICAN COLONIZATION SOCIETIES OF THE FUTURE 
THIS BOOK IS HOPEFULLY INSCRIBED. 
 
 THE SONS OF HAM. 
i. 
THE time was early fall, morning, of the year 188-; the place, an upstairs office in a small Southern town. The room was large for an office, but contained little furniture beyond a desk and two or three chairs. The walls were not so bare, there being a plentiful array of lawbooks on shelves, and not less than four small portraits, a glance re vealing that these were intended to represent Wash ington, Bismarck, Gladstone, and Grover Cleveland. Their owner was wont to point them out with a look of pride, while remarking that he had always liked to surround himself with " big men;" and even now, as he sat alone, his feet mounted upon the desk, threatening the stability of an inkstand on the right and two bottles of beer on the left, he stared vacantly at the first-named, which hung directly in his front 
This lover of fine company, Samuel Thomas by name, and lawyer by profession, was a young man of twenty-five, full in face and body, fair, florid, and 
 
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rather good-looking in an external way, in spite of his air of self-satisfaction. Markedly different in ap pearance was the person whose step was now heard on the stairway outside, and who presently entered the office, the door being open. The visitor, also a young man, was dark, thin, and sallow, and at the first glance nothing about him seemed attractive but his eyes, which were of a peculiar dark gray color and distinguished by a strange, haunting beauty. But for these, the firm jaw and serious face would have combined in an expression of unmistakable sternness. 
" Hello, Morton ! come in," said Thomas, cheer fully, without moving. " Have a seat. Care for a glass of beer this early in the morning? " 
" No, thank you." "Is it business?" was then asked, the visitor being seated. "Well, yes in a way," was the cold response. " I *d like to get at the truth of those reports about Miss Black." "What reports about Miss Black?" "Those stories about her in connection with you; about her allowing you to take liberties to kiss fcer." " Who said so ? " "It's all over town." Thomas slowly removed his feet from the desk, looking steadily at his visitor. " I 'm surprised that you should want to know," he said, after a pause. 
 
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3 
 
" I have good reason for wanting to know." "Well, then, if you are serious, there's noth ing in it. She has a free, breezy way, different from our Southern girls, but it means nothing; it means simply that she 's jolly. I never kissed her. I knew right away that I could n't." ' But they say you boasted publicly that you did:' " Oh, that was all a joke," replied the young lawyer, flippantly. " I just wanted something to crow over the boys about- They ought to have known it was nothing but a joke." " And what about the young lady's reputation? " A stern expression was creeping into Morton's peculiar eyes. " One would think that would have occurred to you before you amused yourself with such a 'joke ; ' and also that she was far away from her home and without protection." Thomas uttered a mild oath and inquired uneasily what was the " earthly use " of being so serious about a mere trifle. How could Miss Black pos sibly be harmed by a few jesting remarks such as he had uttered? She was a stranger in the town and did not expect to stay permanently; the local photographer had engaged her to assist him during the fail and winter months only. Besides, she had not as yet been taken up by " society," and prob ably would not be; therefore, what could it matter to her? 
" I have heard you make a better argument," 
 
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commented the visitor, as the lawyer paused. " It could be, and is, a serious matter to her. I hap pen to know that one person, at least, who was very friendly toward her, has been affected by " 
"Oh, pshaw! " " You have set every gossip in this town to talk ing about an innocent woman," insisted the sallow 
young man, icily. "Well, it's not my fault if they do. You know 
how people will talk. I intended nothing of the sort. But look here, Morton, you must be in terested in that quarter," laughed the young law yer, attempting to throw his interrogator on the 
defensive. 41 1 am not even acquainted with her," was the 
haughty retort " I have merely seen her come and go and heard people speak of her and quote you. But I am interested in a way; I don't like to see a defenceless woman suffer for for Let me have a pen and a piece of paper, will you? " 
Morton rose as he uttered the last words. A slight flush appeared on his sallow cheek, improv ing his appearance ; but the lawyer did not like the stern, determined expression of his eye, and was quick to vacate the desk and put pen and paper in place. Morton sat down and wrote deliberately, pausing frequently to choose his words: 
 
" I hereby solemnly affirm that I have either been un accountably misunderstood or maliciously misquoted in 
 
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5 
 
regard to Miss Black, a lady for whom I feel only the most profound respect. I deeply regret that her name should have been coupled with mine in any way annoying to her self, and earnestly beg her pardon for any word or deed on my part which may have led thereto." 
 
" ' I solemnly affirm that I lied' would be more appropriate," was Morton's thought as he rose, " but he will like it better in this shape. I 'd rather avoid a quarrel if I can," he said aloud, looking squarely into the lawyer's eye, " but I must ask you to sign this paper. I am determined on see ing that young lady vindicated, ana I want this paper after you have signed it to show to those people who are talking about her, so as to stop their mouths." 
"I won't sign any paper," said Thomas, with suppressed anger and slightly changed color, refus ing what was handed to him ; " but I '11 tell you what I will do, although it is no business of yours: I'll go around and tell the boys that I did n't mean it, 
that it was all a joke. And I '11 do it for Miss Francie's sake ; not because you you " 
" If I could be sure that you would, and that they'd shut up, I'd be glad enough to drop it at that; but no, it won't do. The matter has gone too far. Just read what I have written, will you? To sign this can 't put you in a much worse light than to do what you propose." 
Thomas reluctantly took the paper, read it, and 
 
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dashed it excitedly down on the desk, amaze ment, alarm, anger, pictured vividly on his face. 
u Will you sign it?" H No, I won't. You must be crazy, Bob Morton, 
if you ---- " 
" Then you will have to fight me. Understand that. I am going to make you sign that paper if 
if -no matter what it costs." There was a good deal of the tiger in the eyes of each as they stood glaring at each other, although Thomas's manner was rather that of threatening bluster, compared with the unconquerable deter mination written in every line of Morton's face. It was not long before the eyes of the one quailed before the eyes of the other. The lawyer was con vinced that his visitor was a brave man, while, as to his own courage, he suffered from grave doubts. All at once he collapsed into the chair before the desk and bent his head to look again at the paper. " After all," he said, in a shaken voice, between quick breaths, " it is no more than I would freely say to anybody. I I never meant to do her any harm, and if I'll sign it/' he concluded, ".for Miss Francie's sake, and [he took up a pen and wrote his name] and then WL fight you!" " I hope you will think better of that/' said Mor ton, more mildly, after possessing himself of the document. " But if you insist on it, you '11 know where to find me." He then turned and walked deliberately out of the room and down the stairs. 
 
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7 
 
" And now he '11 go showin' it to everybody," sighed Mr. Samuel Thomas, casting a fretful, angry glance toward Bismarck, and another toward Glad stone, as if to accuse these patron saints of having failed in their duty of protection. Receiving no expression of regret or sympathy from those quar ters, the young man's troubled eyes travelled back to his desk and rested on the two bottles of beer. A moment later he poured out a brimming glass, swallowed it at a draught, then thrusting his hands deep into his pockets and resting his chin on his breast, he ruminated. 
Suddenly the sound of a loud, continuous laugh a laugh of the "horse" variety reverberated up the stairway which led from the hall just outside of his door to the street. Roused instantly from his troubled reflections, Thomas got swiftly upon his feet, glaring about him. He knew that laugh and leaped to a conclusion. " He 's showin' it already," he growled. " He 's showin' it to Bud Mitchell." The unhappy man listened intently, his face drawn up in a frown and his eyes full of rage, as the echoes of more than one laughing voice rolled up the stairway and subsided. " I '11 get even with Bob Morton," he burst out furiously, " if I if I have to ruin myself! " It was indeed as he supposed; Morton was " showin' it already," and he was determined to continue showing it until the whole town had the news. Beginning with the stentorian-lunged 
 
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"Bud" Mitchell and a few others who quickly gathered round and joined in the laughter and ex pressions of astonishment instantly provoked by " Sam Thomas's proclamation," so it was face tiously termed by one of the group, he passed down the street, stopping here and there to invite some acquaintance to inspect the interesting document. 
The street was in the centre of the business quarter, but there was little noise or stir; although September was at hand and cotton was " coming in," a half-dozen wagons with a bale or two each were in sight, the business season had hardly opened. Here and there a salesman was seen idling at the door of the long low brick stores, and in some cases the merchants themselves sat out side, their chairs tilted against the brick wall, con versing for the most part about commercial matters ; here and there a white loafer or negro vagrant was seen shuffling aimlessly along, and from the gen eral aspect of affairs, a stranger would have guessed far below the volume of business done in the town within a year. Morton walked down the quiet street in the shade of the ubiquitous China trees, choosing to commune with such persons as he judged would the most quickly spread the story he had to tell. Two men standing with their shoulders against the same tree and nervously whittling small bits of white pine as they talked, were among the first who were thus favored. A little farther on, 
 
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9 
 
another, who was very tall and thin and stood statue-like with his hands in his pockets and one foot in a chair, suggesting a sleeping stork or crane, was roused from a revery and asked to read the paper thrust beneath his nose. Still farther on, the determined young man stepped into the sandy street and craved a word with one of two mer chants who were standing about a bale of cotton exposed in a cart for sale, digging deep into it for a genuine sample. A few minutes later several young men in a drug store were communed with in turn. In every case the favored individual ex amined the paper eagerly as soon as its nature was understood, expressing great amusement and sur prise, some being moved to swear mildly and de clare that in all their days they had never seen the like, and that it was certainly " a good one on Sam Thomas." 
"He'll never hear the last of his 'proclama tion,' " said one, chuckling. " The whole town will be laughing at him by night." 
Turning the corner on the way to his office, Morton almost ran into a grizzled veteran, com manding in build and fine of feature, who bade him good-day with pronounced cordiality. 
" I think you would like to see this, Colonel Sanford," said the young man, offering the paper for perhaps the twentieth time. 
" What! " ejaculated the veteran, as he absorbed its import. " I knew it. I liked that girl from 
 
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the first. I but of course I couldn't be sure. How did Sam Thomas happen to sign such a paper?" 
"I I got him to do it after after he con fessed that he that those reports were not true." 
"You made him do it! I see." Morton dropped his eyes before his friend's look of undisguised admiration and hurried on, as cending to his office; for he, too, was a lawyer, although as yet only upon the threshold of his profession. The room was even more sparsely fur nished than the office just visited, but contained twice as many books, these not being confined to the law alone. Locking the " proclamation " in a drawer and pocketing the key, he sat down before his desk and fell into revery. " He will be twitted about this until he is furi ous," was the young man's thought, " and he may screw his courage up to the point of demanding a fight, he may challenge me. Well, let him. My chances are as good as his, and right will be on my side. But I hope it won't come when a chill threat ens. I wonder if 1 shall ever get rid of these \rcetched chills. This the day for one, by the way." Suddenly he wheeled round and took a book from the shelves. It was a well-worn volume of " Blackstone," and as he opened it, his eye fell on the words, " A gift against the innocent he ac cepted not/1 written in faded ink on the fly-leaf. " My father meant it when he wrote that quota- 
 
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u 
 
tion," was Morton's instant reflection. "He never accepted a reward at the expense of the innocent. That is the kind of a lawyer he was, and I hope always to be like him. Sam Thomas will take any sort of business he can lay his hands on, but I will starve before I will do it" 
Miss Francie Black was a native of Boston, but had been a resident of Barcelona, Ga., now about two months. Her father being only a sub-book keeper with an increasing family, at eighteen she had felt it necessary to exert herself and for five years had served for a moderate return in a photo grapher's establishment A slight cough and an advantageous offer had brought her South, and she had not as yet regretted the change. She was good-looking, intelligent, and capable, what is usu ally termed " a nice girl." She was much too young, and too lonely in her new situation, not to be pleased with the attentions of as agreeable a young man as Sam Thomas, whose office was next door, and it is possible that she allowed their acquain tance to progress a little too rapidly. She had made one or two other friends, among them Colonel Sanford, a leading man of the town, whom she greatly admired and who appeared to have a com mensurate fancy for herself, to judge from his atti tude, he having stopped at the photographer's to chat with her a number of times, and his daughters being the only ladies who had as yet called on her. But within the past week or ten days she had 
 
 12 
observed an unaccountable change in these few friends. Colonel Sanford, for instance, whose smile had been so pleasing, now passed her on the street with a distant nod,and came no more into the pho tographer's, although his law office was but two doors distant. 
On the afternoon of the day Morton went about showing that curious paper, however, the colonel again appeared at the photographer's, and with more than his former cordiality announced to the surprised young lady that he was commissioned by his wife to bring her home to supper the follow ing evening. Miss Black mentally remarked that she heartily disliked people who were cordial by fits and starts, but admitted that it was impossible to resist Colonel Sanford, and she accepted the invitation with every evidence of pleasure. When her friend had retired and she went on with her work, the brief history of her life in Barcelona was reviewed, and she tried to account for the strange, apparently capricious behavior of her few newfound friends, wondering if she had done anything to offend, or if such caprice were merely character istic of these folk of the far South. Realizing that she had cherished many illusions with regard to them, some of which had promptly been dispelled, she wisely decided not to be in too great a hurry to form conclusions. 
She came South expecting to find the most in tense heat, a landscape composed almost entirely 
 
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13 
 
of immense steaming cotton-fields, a people who, for the most part, lay around in a state of semicoma and were active only in the use of their fans. The activity in Barcelona was one of her greatest surprises; she found that farmers, carpenters, etc., worked from sun to sun, and that merchants or their employees were in harness from twelve to fif teen hours a day. She mentioned the matter to Colonel Sanford, who as usual laughed, reminding her that Georgia was in the temperate zone, and that greed of gain inspired people to overwork there just as it did everywhere else in the world. The colonel added that, after all, the facts did not jus tify the current notion that a hot climate is a foe to progress. All our earliest recorded civilizations belonged to regions which, if not tropical, almost equal the tropics in intensity of heat. The enforced inertness during the noontide glare in such locali ties may indeed be an evidence of enervation, but there is a compensating energy during the cooler parts of the twenty-four hours. 
As she grew up Miss Black had heard and read much about the down-trodden negro, and had sup posed that the spectacle, to put it figuratively, of a white foot on a black neck was to be seen every day. But on arriving in Barcelona, although she was quickly made aware that a most intense race antipathy really existed, she saw the blacks coming and going, idling or working, in perfect freedom, with no sign of molestation whatever, and, what 
 
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was still more surprising, a great many of them were fairly prosperous. During the first week or two, her interest in these people led her to visit them in their little houses, and, when the place was not too dirty, to sit down and talk with them. But she soon gave up this practice, not because she realized that she did violence to local prejudice, such a motive would have involved, she thought, an abject surrender of her independence and ideals; but simply because the negro at close quarters and in gross reality failed to engage her sympathy and imagination as he had done at a distance. Strange as it may seem, her interest in him fast weakened and was finally lost. 
She was wondering if it could be this, her inter est in the negro, which had temporarily displeased her Barcelona friends, when her employer entered and handed her a letter. The information that it contained was, in brief, that her aunt, a Mrs. Blos som of Philadelphia, intended wintering in Florida and the West Indies, and that sometime in October, while on her way, she contemplated stopping for a day or so in Barcelona. The halt would, of course, be made for the sole reason of seeing her niece, there being nothing to interest her in a small in terior Georgia town. The writer mentioned that she would be accompanied by one Paul Shepherd, her husband's nephew, a young man unknown to her niece. Miss Black felt pleased, but somewhat troubled. She had never seen her aunt, who was 
 
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15 
 
very wealthy and never visited or kept up cordial relations with her less fortunate sister in Boston; it seemed odd that such a person should give herself the trouble to visit a relative whom she had hither to made no effort to see, and who was, from her standpoint, only a poor working girl. 
Late in the afternoon, when going to the neigh boring post-office in order to mail her response, which expressed gratification at the prospect of the visit, Miss Black met Morton, who lifted his hat but did not look directly at her. In Barcelona no gentleman ever passed even a strange lady without acknowledging her presence in some such fashion. Although not an acquaintance, Miss Black had long since learned the young man's name; something about him attracted her and she amused herself a good deal with speculations concerning him. Her quick eye now told her that his should ers drooped forward, that he seemed to shiver, and just as he passed her she heard his teeth chatter. The chill had come and he was now on his way home. 
Returning a few minutes later, she exchanged a smile and a bow with Sam Thomas, who passed rapidly in a hack bound for a railway station in a distant part of the town. She saw that he had a travelling bag and supposed that he was off for a stay of several days; she wondered that she had not seen him during the day, he who usually came and went on the street at all hours, and was far 
 
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OF 
from guessing why he had secluded himself. Upon mature reflection this cautious young man had con cluded not to seek an encounter with Morton, but to "fight" him as occasion offered in a way that would prove more effective, make no noise, and in volve no personal danger. He also decided, as he himself would have stated it, not to " face the mu sic," the fire of irritating jest and raillery which his " proclamation" would inevitably provoke in certain quarters, but to pack his bag and devote two or three weeks to looking after his interests in a neighboring county. 
 
 II. 
ITS history was by no means as brief as that of countless mushroom communities in the West which spring up and attain to a giddy prosperity within a year, but Barcelona was relatively a new town. It had been settled during the war by ref ugees from the exposed coast cities and planta tions, and had grown from their children and accessions from the homespun provincials of the surrounding interior. After the lapse of twentyfive years the difference between the cracker and the more gentle refugee was almost as marked as at the beginning, although the native, more readily adapting himself to the changed conditions of a new era, had gradually become prosperous and was beginning to take the lead in public affairs, the other more unfortunate element for the most part losing ground in corresponding ratio. However, except where the more intimate concerns of life were involved, as those of marrying and giving in marriage, there was no lack of friendship, or in deed of hearty good-fellowship, between these two elements. The presence of a common danger, 
 
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whether real or fancied, impelled them to stand together and expose an unbroken front to the view of that absolutely distinct and extraneous body composed of freed slaves who lacked but a little of equalling the combined forces of their white neigh bors. But, although regarded en bloc as a grow ing menace to the well-being and safety of the town and country, the black man as an individual was for the most part neither regarded nor treated as an enemy ; indeed, in so far as he was industri ous and did not seek public ofnce, he was often esteemed as a useful member of society. Tempo rarily at least, the two races were mutually depend ent on each other, and the situation was and is full of inconsistencies and curious complications. 
In this much-mixed community, among the smart new houses and blooming gardens of the more prosperous Barcelonans, here and there was still to be seen a dilapidated home where shabby respectability lurked behind closed doors, linking the past era of profound depression with the more agreeable present. One of these, which stood on the outskirts of the town, a wide, low house with almost as many piazzas as rooms, stretching them out like wings, and seeming to spread itself lazily on its brick legs like a squatting fowl on a sum mer's day, had doubtless been in need of fresh paint for fifteen years. It faced a quiet street, along which stood oak and China trees, and had a somewhat imposing front, a series of tall wooden 
 
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columns, white now no more, mounted on brick pedestals and supporting the ornamented over reaching roof of the piazza. The front yard, once a pretty flower garden, was now a troubled scene of untrimmed rose-bushes, cape jessamines, white and pink oleanders, and young cedar-trees. In the large back yard were a few equally neglected fig and orange trees and crepe myrtles, besides the everywhere conspicuous China-tree to furnish shade. Beyond this was a separate inclosure in tended for vegetables, and adjoining it, a field of two or three acres devoted to rice, which sloped downward to the low pine bottoms environing this portion of the town. 
The only sign of life about the place as Sam Thomas drove by on his way to the station was a young girl who sat on the secluded back piazza engaged in sewing. Had she not been screened from observation, the most casual of observers would have noted that she worked with an anxious, hurried air and was not in a tranquil state of mind. After a careful scrutiny a physician would doubt less have guessed that she was not in the habit of receiving a proper share of nourishing food. Al though unquestionably very young, her expres sion, as she now sat in troubled thought, was that of a mature woman ; it was clear that she was thinner than she had once been, and there was a drawn look about her mouth curiously at vari ance with the strength and joyousness of youth. 
 
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77/ SONS OF HAM. 
 
Yet Reba Lawrence was distinguished by unusual beauty, not so much the beauty of delicate out line and color, though that was not absent, as of an inner loveliness which seemed to shine forth through her large, dark eyes. 
Her story was not a cheerful one. As was the case with so many other refugees, her father's broken fortunes had effectually prevented his return and resumption of former place and position, and he had begun life anew under sadly changed con ditions in Barcelona. Soon after the war was over he invested his all in the meagre outfit of a small country newspaper, as editor and publisher of which he succeeded, however, in providing his wife and daughter with more comforts than were enjoyed by many of their neighbors in those days of widespread distress. He was able even to secure for his only remaining child (the two grown sons having fallen in battle) fair educational advantages while she grew up. When she was sixteen he died, and, at the advice of Colonel Sanford, the widow sold the paper and invested the proceeds in rail road stock. Owning their home and having -now from this source an income of a little over $300 a year, the mother and daughter, by carefully filing down their expenses, had managed to live. But within less than two years Mrs. Lawrence broke down and became a confirmed invalid, her pro found and continuing grief having complicated an old nervous affection. After that she scarcely ever 
 
 THE SONS OF HAM. 
left her chamber and never left the house, the management of the household and all business affairs devolving upon Reba, who was less than eighteen. All went well enough, however, for two years longer, until the railroad went into the hands of a receiver and the stockholders ceased to draw their dividends. 
Resolved to keep the news of this disaster from her suffering mother as long as possible, Reba went to consult Colonel Sanford, who assured her there would be no opportunity to sell the stock for a long while to come, and offered her a loan. This she declined, telling him they had been able to save some money, and omitting to mention that the amount saved was not quite fifty dollars. 
When little more than nineteen Reba Lawrence was confronted with the problem of caring for an invalid mother, not to speak of herself, for an indefinite period on the sum of fifty dollars. She had two devoted young cousins in the town, Charles and Betty Walton, in whom she might have confided with some expectation of assistance, their step-father, one Adam Brown, being a very prosperous man; but she felt that starvation alone could drive her to appeal to him, everything con sidered. Resolving to battle for herself to the last if possible, she immediately set about reducing the expenses of the household, and considered how she might earn something by means of labor done at home. She promptly had a reckoning with and 
 
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dismissed the negro girl who came three times a day and cooked the three meals; she sent no more regular orders to the grocery store, and decided that she would hereafter go out less than ever and need not buy any more clothes; she engaged an old negro, a former slave of the family who was fond of her, to cultivate the vegetable garden and rice patch on shares; she made an arrangement with a twelve-year-old white boy who lived on a small farm just out of town, and whose parents were too poor to send him to school, by which he was to come twice a week and cut wood or do other small jobs, and she in return would give him an hour's instruction in reading or writing; and, finally she determined to solicit plain sewing. All this was done quietly, almost secretly, that the mother might not know, and that their friends might be kept in ignorance of their desperate 
need. It was this consideration which led her to seek 
sewing among the blacks rather than the whites. Josephine Witherspoon, a good-natured young negress, who had been a slave in the family- as a child, solicited the work for her and collected, or tried to collect, the money. Josephine had re mained on friendly terms with the family, and for many years had made them a periodical visit, always going away well pleased with a gift of some sort, which for some time-past had usually been a garment no longer of any use to the invalid Mrs. 
 
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Lawrence. This hopeful copartnership resulted in a heavy addition to Reba's other cares and but a trifling pecuniary return; for if she advanced her price for making a calico dress beyond seventy-five cents, she received no more orders, and, what was worse, as a rule Josephine was not able to collect more than one-half of what was due, and sometimes nothing at all. 
During six months, by incessant effort, by the most careful economy, and by the help of the fifty dollars on hand, the girl was able to keep her mother barely comfortable, and herself from starv ing. But not until the last dollar of that hoarded sum had disappeared did the real pinch begin. Then it was that Mrs. Lawrence, a patient woman by nature, began to complain and demand the why and the wherefore of this and that, and poor Reba to make evasive excuses. Then it was, too, that the girl began to cook for her mother alone and to eat only what was left. Having now battled with this last extremity for many weeks, it is not wonderful that she had grown thin in spite of her youth and strength. 
As she reflected upon the desperate situation now, scalding tears fell upon the garment she was making. But, although nearly always hungry, Reba was not always unhappy, having attained to a certain resignation and learned to feed on hope. Misfortune sours some dispositions, but softens others ; it is thus that hardships bless us when they seem a curse. 
 
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Aroused by the sound of the side gate, the girl looked up and saw a portly, smiling negress advancing across the yard, carrying a bundle wrapped in a newspaper. 
"How you come on, Miss Reba?" she inquired cheerily, as she lifted her great weight up the piazza steps with slow and stately dignity. " I brung you another dress to make," she announced, opening her bundle and exhibiting a piece of flowered calico. 
"Thank you, Josephine. Whose is it?" " Rosetta Hightower's. She say she want it tight in de wais'. She say she don't care ef hit do hurt her, she got to have it tight in de wais'." "What a giddy thing she must be." *' She ain't got no sense," declared Josephine Witherspoon, emphatically. " Now me, I won't do dat. I don't care ef I is fat, I ain't gwine to choke myself in de wais' dat-a way." The visitor had observed that the girl's eyes were tearful, and was now well pleased to see her laugh ing heartily. " Anyhow, I '11 have to cut it by the pattern," said Reba. - " She had dat pattern cut too small a-purpose. Dese young gals ain't got no mo' sense 'n chillun. I seen Susan comin' 'long," Josephine continued, "and she tole me she want you to make her a dress, too." r "Which Susan?" *' Dat Susan wut cook for Mis' Whittin'ton, Susan Brown." 
 
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" I made one for her last spring, and she has n't paid for that yet" 
" I know it, and I tole her so, too," said Josephine, in great indignation. " I tole her ef she didn't git up dat money and pay it, I 'd everlas'nly beat her all over dis town." 
" Let her keep it rather than do that. But I wish you would collect it if you possibly can." 
" Oh, yuh's de money I cleckted from Sally John," said Josephine, producing a handkerchief and untying a knot in one end of it " Fifty cents is all she gim me. I don't b'lieve she 'low to pay de other twenty-five cents. Howyo' ma, Miss Reba? " 
"About the same." Reba now rose and disappeared through the back hall-door, returning presently with a bundle which she presented to the waiting black woman. " I went through a trunk yesterday and found sev eral things I thought you could make use of," she said. And so Josephine departed, well satisfied with this exchange of substantial courtesies. Left to her self, Reba began to gather up her work, concluding that it was too late to sew any longer; she must go in and see how her mother fared, and then pre pare something for her supper. As she entered the long, wide hall which divided the house into two equal halves, she heard some one calling her from the front yard or the street. Going out, she found that her presence was desired by a slender, well- 
 
 i> . ' 
 
THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
dressed young lady, hardly to be called handsome in the usual sense of the term, but about whose colorless, shapely face, and clear, intelligent blue eyes there was something which pleased at once and by and by strongly attracted. 
"Come in, Betty," called Reba from the piazza, as the visitor remained standing at the gate. 
"No, you come here. I haven't time to go in," replied Miss Betty Walton, positively. No one was now to be seen on the quiet street, and she had not hesitated to call out loudly. '; I stopped a minute because I had something to tell you," she added. 
" What is it?" asked Reba, drawing near. "Well, in the first place, Charlie he said he did n't care if I told you he thinks he is going to win, and if he does, he wants to crown you." " Oh, Betty ! " "They've been practising again to-day and he beat everybody." Reba first flushed with pleasure, then looked doubtful and reflective. Betty hurried on: " I have one more piece of news to communicate, and then I must go." With this introduction she told a story which her step-father had brought home at noon and which her mother had repeated to her shortly afterward, the story in which Miss Black, Robert Morton, and Samuel Thomas were the dramatis persons. " Oh, Betty, did he do that? " interrupted the lis tener, as soon as she had grasped the facts. An 
 
 THE SONS OF HAM. ' 
 
27 
 
unusual light shone in her eyes, which her cousin did not fail to note. The emphasized pronoun of course referred to Morton. 
"Yes, he did, and I only wish he had thrashed that disgusting Sam Thomas while he was about it. I never could bear that man. I 'm going to call on Miss Black sometime soon, and I want you to go with me. Colonel Sanford asked me to ogo two or three weeks agoo." 
" Does he does he visit her? " asked Reba. " Not that I know of," said Betty, understanding perfectly that the pronoun did not refer to Colonel Sanford. " I doubt if he knows her at all. He was disinterested, I 'm sure. That's his way." Betty had recklessly announced that she would stop only a minute, but half an hour or more "had elapsed when she finally cut short the conference and hurried away. In that chamber of Out-at-Elbow Castle so Reba with a sad smile sometimes called it which was the most favored as to sunshine, air, furnish ing and commodiousness in general, a pale-faced woman lay wearily abed. She had been reading, but the light had failed some time since and she now patiently awaited the appearance of her daugh ter. The hollows in her cheeks and the lines of care about her mouth were not prominent in the waning light, and the whiteness of her hair, com bined with the perfect regularity of her features, suggested a marble statue. She was scarcely fifty 
 
 28 
 
TV/.E 
 
and looked seventy. The room was neat and not uncomfortable; there were snowy white lace cur tains, a few pictures, a faded lounge, a worn-out carpet, a fine old easy-chair with one arm gone, and a few other necessaries, all the worse for wear. 
" Was that Betty calling you a little while ago? " asked the invalid in a low, gentle voice, as Reba 
entered. " Yes, mamma. How do you feel? Are you 
comfortable?" Receiving an affirmative answer, the girl pro 
ceeded to throw open the blinds of the nearest window, letting in more li^ht. It cquld then be seen that the two women closely resembled each other, although a careful observer would have conjectured that the daughter, even with all her delicacy of color, the charm of her eyes, and her grace of movement, was distinguished by less ex ternal beauty than must have belonged to the 
mother in her youth. "Betty says Charlie wants to crown me queen 
at the tournament ball, if he wins," announced Reba, returning from the window with a pensive 
smile. "Would you like him to?" "I don't know. I have nothing to wear. It 
ought to be something new." " There is an old ball dress of mine wrapped up 
in linen in one of the trunks," said Mrs. Lawrence, speculatively. " Perhaps you could make it over. 
 
 THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
29 
 
I could give you some help. Suppose you get it out and show it to Betty. There is some beautiful lace on it How well I remember," she added with a sigh, "wearing it at a ball in London just before the war broke out." 
Reba showed great interest in the suggestion, expressing a hope that the old gown had not changed color. 
"Who is going to this ball, anybody beside the young people?" Mrs. Lawrence then asked. 
" Betty said Colonel and Mrs.Sanford weri gcing." " I am glad of that. I dislike seeing young girls go off to a public ball all alone. When I was a girl I was always matronized at a ball. Betty tells me that not one married woman was present at those dances at the hall last winter. It is positively shocking. How everything is changed. Cracker customs seem to prevail nowadays. I am sorry you had to be brought up in this part of the country." "Some of the girls say," laughed Reba, "that there would be no chances to flirt if chaperons were always around." " It might be well if some of them had their chances in that direction curtailed. That, how ever, is nonsense. I never felt that I was deprived of any freedom whatever." Reba's thoughts returned to the story just told by Betty and she repeated it to her mother, whose eyes flashed as she listened. " How gallant! " she 
 
 30 
 
THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
exclaimed. " They are of the right sort, those Mortons. I knew his father well in the old days, and he was one of the most honorable of men. 3*hey were refugees, you know. That girl will fall in love with him now." 
Reba made no rejoinder to this speculation, and rose to leave the room. It was now growing dark. " I must go and get you something to eat, and make your tea," she said. 
" Reba, you look overworked and thin," said her mother anxiously. " You are doing too much; you won't be able to stand the ccoking." 
" I have stood it nir.e months." " You seem to be trying harder than we ever did to economize. We have always been able to afford a girl to do the heavier work about the kitchen. It costs very little. What made you turn Susan off anyhow? " "She was so trifling and incompetent," was the evasive answer, though this was true enough. " And her ideas were too high. She called herself a kitchen-lady, and with some reason. She never cam.e at all on rainy mornings, and toward the last she sometimes turned up as late as nine o'clock, and in a carriage to boot. We are too poor to afford a kitchen-lady." " A carriage? " " One of those ten-cent hacks driven by negro men." " Truly, the bottom rail is on top, to quote Adam Brown," said Mrs. Lawrence', laughing. 
 
 III. 
FOR the masses it was not as great an event as the circus, which usually shook Malvern County to its foundations, as well as its neighbor Richmond, collecting the people almost to a man from the whole region within the circumference described by a radius of twenty miles, and causing campfires to burn along every road on the night before the great day; but still the " tournament" so the great riding contest was called was no small sen sation and drew a large crowd. And unquestion ably it furnished entertainment not to be despised. True, it was scarcely a faint reminder of the genu ine tourney of the middle age; there was no clash of arms to quicken the pulse and light the eye of the old soldier, no incidental bloodshed to cloy the taste of the savage-hearted; but yet there was a charm. The mere fact of a contest of any sort could rivet the attention of these spectators who had few diversions ; and there was no little charm in the perfect horsemanship, in the plumed knights' gay attire, in the array of shapely horses that 
 
 32 
 
THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
moved with such spirit and held their heads as proudly as even their masters could desire. 
The scene of the contest was an extensive area in the suburbs of Barcelona", encircled by a rough board-fence, along which, amphitheatre fashion, were tiers of elevated seats of the same material. These seats extended less than one third of the way around the inclosure, but where they ended a long circling line of wagons and other vehicles began, all available space soon being taken up. By ten o'clock A. M., the time set for the opening of the contest, not only were these seats and vehicles . filled to the overflow, but all the roofs in the im mediate vicinage were occupied as well. Nearly half the spectators were black, and these for the most part flocked together, as a matter of course. 
Reba was present in the company of her cousin Betty, and her aunt, Mrs. Brown. The latter, to the lasting regret of Mrs. Lawrence, had not been a refugee, which is almost equivalent to saying that she was uneducated. George 'Valton, a brother of Mrs. Lawrence, had shocked his family by marrying a pretty native cracker girl soon after the settling of the refugees in Barcelona; ten years later he died, and after a year or two of sincere mourning his widow, to the dismay of her sisterin-law, presented her two children, Charles and Elizabeth, with a second father in the person of one Adam Brown, an uneducated farmer, who afterwards became a prosperous and prominent citizen of Barcelona, 
 
 THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
33 
 
" Where's Charlie?" asked Mrs. Brown, eagerly scanning the arena the moment they were in their seats. "Does anybody see Charlie?" She had lost all her early bloom, but the gentle, motherly expression of her face rescued it from what might be termed the hopelessly commonplace. 
Betty promptly pointed her brother out. " Don't you see him waiting over there with the other riders?" Yes, there he was, looking very hand some and knightly in his broad-brimmed black hat with its long, graceful white feather, in his dark velvet coat with its gold lace trimmings and crim son horseshoe embroidered just below his left shoulder, the " Knight of the Horseshoe." 
"I hope Mr. Straitlace won't say nothin'," re marked Mrs. Brown as she gazed fondly toward her son. "It's the ball he don't like, I reckon; for what can be the harm o' comin' here to see 'em dash round and take the rings, especially when Charlie 's one o' the ringleaders and papa got something to do with it, too. Betty, do you see papa?" 
" He 's over there at the judge's stand." Mrs. Brown heaved a sigh of relief and content. With "papa" at the judge's stand and her own Charlie one of the " ringleaders," why should n't she be there to look on? Where else should she be, all the reverend Straitlaces in the world to the contrary notwithstanding? 
3 
 
 J.V.-* .. < 
 
34 
 
THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
"There's Mr. Jones, Betty," said Reba, with a 
 
!^ smile. 
 
Her smile meant that the young man was the 
 
subject of jest between them. "Jim" Jones, uni 
 
versally so-called, was an uneducated young farmer 
 
of good character and rustic manners and speech ; 
 
but, being prosperous, he was received into Barce 
 
lona's best circle, prosperity having now success 
 
fully displaced the old-fashioned "good-family" 
 
standard. He was really a shrewd and clever man 
 
on his own plane, but his expression was dull, his 
 
face as red as a lobster, and his hands hard and 
 
knotty from constant rough work. Charlie \Valton 
 
was also a farmer, with hands hardened by manual 
 
labor, but the two men were totally different. 
 
Young Jones was often invited to his house by 
 
Adam Brown, a kindred spirit, and had recklessly 
 
fallen in love with Betty, despite her chilling recep 
 
tion of his advances. 
 
"What's that on his coat?" continued Reba. 
 
" Is n't it a plough? I like that; it's quite original, 
 
the ' Knight of the Plough.' " 
 
^5 
 
^J 
 
" Not original with him, poor man/' declared 
 
Betty. " Some one suggested it to him, I 'm 
 
sure." 
 
" It is so much better than something high 
 
sounding," said Reba. 
 
" Yes ; fancy Mr. Jones the Knight of the the 
 
Moonlight, for instance," laughed Betty. "Of 
 
course there "s never been anything quite as ridicu- 
 
 THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
35 
 
lous as that, but Charlie did say a man from Rich mond County once proposed to ride as the 'Knight of the Blue-Eyed Maiden,' but fortu nately yielded to entreaty. And there was one year a ' Don Quixote de la Mancha, Knight of the LT ions. ) ) ) 
" Did he have a Sancho Panza? " " Probably not. They have n't introduced squires, except to the extent of one mounted darky who is a sort of squire for all hands." Sam Thomas, who had now returned to Barce lona, passed near them in going to his seat and stopped to speak to them, addressing his remarks chiefly to Reba; but he fancied that all three ladies treated him coolly, particularly the one he desired most to please, and he was not slow to take himself off. A few minutes later Morton appeared and also stopped to speak to them, his dark, grave face relaxing in a tender smile and his fine eyes kindling. Mrs. Brown literally beamed on him, and Betty was as cordial as she had been cool to his predecessor. Reba left the talking to the others, but there was no lack of friendliness in her glance. "Why ain't you ridin'?" asked Mrs. Brown, fondly. "Oh, yes, I forgot; I reckon you don't feel able right now. I 'm powerful sorry about them chills-and-fever. You must take care of yourself." They were silent for a few moments after he 
 
 36 
 
THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
left them, each one thinking of him. Betty's re flection was that there was an indescribable ex pression in his peculiar, haunting eyes, as he looked lingeringly at Reba. The latter's thoughts could not easily be translated. Mrs. Brown, as usual, expressed hers in words. 
" If he w* as to ride," said she, enthusia -ticallv** , " I 'd be willin' for him to beat everybody, even Charlie. A young man that will take up for a unprotected woman like he done deserves to beat 'em all." 
One other person stopped and spoke to them before the contest began, a very young man who smiled rapturously and almost blushed as he looked at Betty. The girl was a year his senior and there fore regarded him almost as a " little boy," although he was nearing twenty and was well grown. Her lofty attitude, however, had not prevented him from falling desperately in love with her, love at that age being always desperate. His name was Jack Sanford, and he was a son of Miss Black's friend, the colonel. All three ladies greeted him cordially, Betty with some raillery; and Mrs. Brown inquired why he, too, was not to take part in the contest. 
" I did so badly the last time we practised that they ruled me out," he replied, with a blush and an appealing look at Betty. " They could n't afford to have any but the best riders; it would have made too manv." 
 
 THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
37 
 
It was now announced that the contest was to begin, and conversation ceased, or was resolved into exclamations of admiration, as the riders galloped round the area in single file, in order to accustom their horses to the crowd. The horse men having resumed their former positions, a man with a white flag took his stand near the starting point and young Walton's spirited mare edged nervously toward the track. She had to be coaxed into position and seemed to tremble with excite ment, but a few caressing pats on her neck accom panied by the encouraging voice of her master tended to calm her, and when the signal was given she started away nobly. The young man sat his slender, fleet-footed mare with admirable ease, and poised his wooden lance in a way to convey the impression that he could do nothing awkwardly. 
The white flag drops, a shout goes up, away they go ! The first post is near; the upheld lance is heard to strike the tiny suspended iron ring. Hurrah! he has it safe on his lance ! On, on, the second ring is taken, and the third, the fourth, the fifth. Bravo! what luck! what speed ! what a calm, unerring eye ! One more will he get it ? the sixth! There is the sound of contact; is it safe upon his lance? Too bad; there it flies off at a tangent. Nevertheless a great shout goes up; he has done well. 
" Oh, what a pity he didn't get that'n, too," sighed Mrs. Brown, a mother's fond pride showing 
 
 38 
on her face as she looked around on the shouting people. 
Next appeared a rider with the slightly ambigu ous title of " Knight of the Fair" who made a disastrous run, his horse proving unruly; and after him the Knight of Putnam, who lost only two rings. Then came the turn of Mr. Jones, the Knight of the Plough, and the interest was intense as he dashed around the track in awkward and apparently reck less style, and came out at the finish, amid enthusi astic shouts, with every ring on his lance. 
" This is terrible," said Betty, with a wry face. "If that man wins, he will write me a note as sure as I feel it coming now [ Xo tournament ball for me, then. I refuse to make myself conspicu ous along with that big. lumbering " 
" You Betty '. " remonstrated Mrs. Brown. "You ought not to talk so ; he 's a good young man." 
"He's good enough, but dear me, he is absolutely hopeless. I wish Jack had asked me to go with him. He wanted to, but generously left it open to one of the victors to invite me." 
There was now leisure to forecast the probable results and make bets while the remaining " knights," no one of which particularly distin guished himself, took their several terms. Judging from his first brilliant run, it was confidently expected that the winner would be none other than the awkward Knight of the Plough ; but his second and third runs proved less successful, while young 
 
 THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
39 
 
Walton took every ring in both his second and third rounds, and when the contest closed the four leading names on the score were: 
 
"Knight of the Horseshoe, 17 ; Knight of the Plough, 15; Knight of Putnam, 14; Knight of Red Bank, 12." 
 
Much shouting had already been indulged in by the spectators, but nothing like what was heard when Charlie Walton, the victorious " Horseshoe," rode forward a little in advance of his comrades, a wreath of flowers upon his lance, and taking offhis plumed hat, bowed in acknowledgment. Mrs. Brown's cup was full and her eyes. As they descended from their seats, unnoticed in the crowd she suddenly embraced and kissed her niece with a meaning look, which plainly said: " He wants you, and if you 'd only have him now, that would be all I'd ask for.1 ' And Reba thought: "My first cousin? never ! " 
Before they were quite clear of the crowd they passed near and bowed to Miss Black who was in the company of a strange lady and gentleman. These had the air of the men and women of the world and looked about them with critical scrutiny, but were evidently no little entertained. Both had attractive faces, and Miss Black seemed to be on good terms with them. 
" I like that man's looks," announced Betty, promptly. 
 
 40 
 
THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
"Who are they?" " Those Northerners Miss Black told us she was expecting, I suppose." Poor Betty's fears of trouble to come were not groundless. Early in the afternoon the following missive reached her at her home : 
 
BARCELONA. Oct. 16. iSS-. 
 
Miss BETTY, Complements of J. L. Jones to Miss 
 
Betty Waiton and would be pleased to have the plesure 
 
of her comepanv t:/ the turnnament ball tonight to crown 
 
i 
 
* 
 
O 
 
her the first made of Hrnor if agreeable. 
 
Yours in Friendship. 
 
J. L. TONES. 
 
" This is too much ! " cried Betty, exasperated. 
 
" I think he might have got somebody to write it 
 
for him, or to correct his mistakes. Well, / stay at 
 
home," and. deaf to her mother's entreaties, she 
 
wrote a polite refusal and gave up the ball. " If 
 
Jack had only asked me this morning," she sighed. 
 
It was quite a great ball for Barcelona, attracting 
 
visitors from among the inhabitants of several 
 
neighboring towns as well as being an event of all- 
 
O 
 
v-3 
 
O 
 
absorbing interest at home. A temporary stage 
 
had been erected at one end of the large hall, and 
 
at the appointed hour the curtain went up, disclos 
 
ing a pretty imitation of a woodland scene, the 
 
" Queen of Beauty" seated in the centre, her victo 
 
rious cavalier standing at her side, in the act of 
 
placing a crown upon her head. In the back- 
 
 THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
\i 
 
ground were also seated the three ladies-in-waiting or maids of honor, each attended by her own knight, who was placing a coronet upon her head. The tableau was an exceedingly pretty one and the source ofunbounded pleasure to the spectators who for the most part knew little of the theatre. 
The curtain was not down again five minutes be fore the crowned young ladies appeared on the arms of their cavaliers, and the ball was opened. Immediately the " royal set " was danced under the admiring eves of the wall-flowers and the some- 
o* 
what envious side glances of those participating in the several other cotillons. The young queen, who, after much anxious planning, had been very successfully costumed, was now radiant, and every eye was riveted upon her and her handsome knight. Refused by Betty, who pined at home, young Jones had solicited in another quarter with more success, and the first "made" of honor whom he now led through the cotillon was undeniably pretty and graceful. So much could not be said for the young man himself, who, having received his early terpsichorean education at backwoods balls, failed to exhibit that even balance of grace and dignity dis tinguishing the good dancer, his feet, as is some times said of orators, being determinedly boisterous and inclined to gesticulate too violently and too much. 
Miss Black watched the tableau and the dance in company with Colonel and Mrs. Sanford and he? 
 
 42 
 
THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
two visitors from Philadelphia, whom she had introduced as Mrs. Blossom and Mr. Shepherd. 
''Very, very pretty," the last-named remarked, as the curtain went down, " but quite a surprise. I was expecting to see the ladies crown the knights with wreaths of laurel, or something of that kind.' 1 
"Oh, were you?" murmured Mrs. Sanford. " Is it something in imitation of the tournaments of the middle ages?" asked Mrs. Blossom. "I think," said Colonel Sanford, "the idea is taken from representations of the mediaeval tour nament given in England in the earlier part of this century. I remember hearing of one, when I was a young man, given at Eglinton castle about the year 1840. Lady Seymour was the Queen of Beauty." At the last moment Mrs. Brown had decided to go to the ball with her husband in spite of the reverend Straitlace, who, to judge from her fre quent reference to him, always loomed threaten ingly in her background. She had watched the tableau and the dance with emotions which, but for the recollection of Betty's obstinacy, would have approximated indescribable bliss; and later, at the first opportunity, she congratulated Reba and Char lie after her own indiscreet but well-meant fashion. " Oh, you two did look so sweet! " she murmured, beaming on them. " But go on now, and pro menade, and have a nice long talk." Reba gave her aunt an affectionate glance in return, but Charlie frowned, not relishing this 
 
 THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
43 
 
friendly espionage. His mother's crude compli ment almost made him blush, and her significant parting suggestion was worse still; he was by no means averse to the long chat, but preferred to do his own courting. However, there was scant op portunity, for Sam Thomas soon approached and importuned Reba for a waltz, and presently she went off on Morton's arm. 
By this time Miss Black was dancing with Jack Sanford, Mrs. Sanford and Mrs. Blossom were look ing about them and lightly commenting, and the colonel was engaged in a very serious conversation with young Shepherd. 
" The presence of the black man as a slave," he was saying, " was the curse of the old South ; his presence as a freeman is equally the curse of the new. As regards material prosperity, he was and is a curse, because on his account the thrifty for eign immigrants pouring into this country during the past fifty years have steadily avoided the fair lands of the South, and settled alvva*v s in the North and West, helping largely to make those sections populous, rich, and great. This is the true expla nation of the slow development of our resources. The material side of the question, however, is not the most important. The main point is that the negro is a foreign body and we cannot assimilate him; we can only look forward to an indefinite extension of the inevitable struggle between two opposing factors, two hostile races, in one country." 
 
 44 
 
THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
" It might be urged, and perhaps without injus tice," said Mr. Shepherd, " that the Southern people brought all this on themselves." 
"We are much to blame," said the colonel, read ily, " but by no means wholly so. The entire union of States was responsible. \Ve fought to per petuate slavery after it involved the preservation of an enormous property, and after we had come to regard it as a necessity, but in the first instance you or your ancestors were equally guilty. You must be aware that slavery, which existed in all the original thirteen States, was gradually abandoned in the North from reasons of interest rather than of sentiment, although it is unquestionable that a revolt against it began among your thinkers at an early day, as was also the case among us and among the English. The ' change of heart' with the latter was one of the most remarkable transi tions of public sentiment on record, considering that they exported more than 600,000 slaves from Africa to Jamaica alone ; and as late as 1770 their king refused to take notice of the petition of the Virginia Assembly, which declared the importation of slaves 'a trade of great inhumanity, and danger ous to the very existence of his Majesty's American dominions.' 
"But it is idle to talk of blame or responsibility now," the colonel added. " What we need to con sider, to reflect seriously upon, is the situation before us. Surely it is one which no thoughtful 
 
 THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
45 
 
person can fail to view with alarm, considering the intense race antipathy which exists and steadily increases." 
"I was under the impression that it was ameli orating," said Mr. Shepherd, evidently much inter ested. 
" It appears so because the negro has practically given up the struggle for political advantage. But wait until he is stronger." 
" When you have forgotten that he was a slave the situation will perhaps soon adjust itself." 
" It is not that, my friend, although that is un doubtedly one of the complications. If our slaves had been white serfs little prejudice could survive a generation. The freed white serf would need only to become prosperous and educate his chil dren, and the fusion would begin. But the negro is black, a race totally distinct and hopelessly in ferior, a race set apart in his own land and never intended to inhabit a common country with the whites. You know as well as I that he never would have been allowed to put foot in this country in the first place except as a slave. You who gradually drove the red man across this wide continent, stain ing every mile with his blood and your own, you who are determined to shut the Golden Gate against the yellow man, how can you expect us to live in peace with, to assimilate, the black man, a third equally distinct and opposite race? " 
"I must say I never thought of it in that light before," said Mr. Shepherd, thoughtful!}'. 
 
 46 
 
THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
" I have often wondered why Northern men show so little sympathy for us in our struggle with the negro. The bitterness following a bloody war was sufficient to explain your desire to humiliate us in making our slaves in many instances our governors, but " 
" Many people in the North," interrupted Shep herd, " doubted the wisdom of conferring the suf frage immediately upon the freed slave. In my opinion it was a mistake. It should -have been done gradually." 
"But/ continued the colonel, "even that is in sufficient to explain your attitude of criticism at this late date whenever there is an outbreak between the races, In the very nature of the situation these outbreaks are inevitable, and yet, whatever the cir cumstances may be, your sympathy is always with the black man as you look coldly on the struggle from a distance. One would think you would sometimes recollect that the whites of the North and South are men of one race, one instinct, one inheritance ; while the blacks are totally of another, equally with the Chinee and the Indian, Deploring "as you do the influence of the low white foreigner in the North, one would think you would be ready to extend your sympathy to us in our struggle with an ignorant, slavish, alien race'' 
" It does seem so," the younger man admitted. " and doubtless it would be so but for the question of partisan politics involved." 
 
 THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
47 
 
" That's the point. The North seems to believe that the whole struggle is one of political parties. My dear sir, it is a struggle of race. In reality the ' solid South' is literally torn with all sorts of polit ical isms, and if the negro were out of the way, it would fall apart to-morrow. We should have a free-trade party, a protectionist party, and every thing else under the sun; as it is, we have, and will continue to have a ' solid South,' every other interest fading into insignificance in comparison with the one all-absorbing necessity of maintaining white supremacy." 
The colonel went on to ask a question which his companion readily admitted as one not easily an swered. It was this : Suppose the Chinese were voters and had a narrow plurality, would the white people of California allow them to capture the State and municipal governments? "If this is not a parallel case," declared Colonel Sanford, " it is be cause our situation has been and threatens again to be worse than the Californians' would be under those circumstances. Our white laboring men make the same complaints of unequal competition with the negro that are made by the same class in California in respect to the rice-subsisting Chinee. Both these alien races are able to support life on much less than the more highly organized white man, and therefore can work for less pay and thus drive the competing white man to the wall. Your working classes North who are so restive under the 
 
 48 
 
7V7- mV6- OF HAM. 
 
system of importing white foreign laborers, know little or nothing of what is involved in competition with the negro, and I venture to say that if the situation North and South could be reversed, if well nigh one half of your population could sud denly be converted into blacks with the same char acteristics of those among us here, there would grow up among your wage earners within five years an overwhelming sentiment favoring their forcible expulsion from the country." 
" It is difficult to conceive of such a situation, but there would be trouble no doubt." 
l( This brings me to my point, my hobby, as some of my friends call it, namely, not the forcible expulsion of the negro, but his gradual removal by means of colonization. He was brought here for cibly and should not be forced to leave; but it be hooves the whites, primarily for their own sakes, and secondarily for his, to do everything in their power to encourage him to emigrate to Liberia, the Congo Free State or elsewhere. That is the only salvation for this Southern country, as I see it. My friends who fear agriculture would be disor ganized and it might be temporarily may call it my hobby if they please, but I could know no greater happiness than to see such a scheme accomplished." 
"Your ' hobby' is surely not one to be ashamed of," rejoined the younger man, admiringly. 
The colonel launched forth again, but his wife 
 
 THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
49 
 
interrupted him. " You must not keep Mr. Shep herd talking there all the evening," she said. " This is a ball, you know. Take Mrs. Blossom around the room; she's tired of sitting, I know." 
Colonel Sanford rose promptly and offered his arm. 
"And," his wife continued, "if you will take me across the room, Mr. Shepherd, I '11 introduce you to some young people. That is, if you like." 
" I should like very much to be presented to the 'queen.'" 
 
4 
 
 IV. 
IT was three o'clock in the morning when the knight of the horseshoe left his queen at her own door. The sound of drizzling rain in the China-trees of the yard first arrested her attention upon awakening, and then, her mother's voice faintly calling. It must, then, be very late. The empty ball dress and sham crown now presented the aspect of reproachful phantoms, and Reba was conscious of something like remorse for having enjoyed herself so thoroughly. Hurrying into the adjoining room, she found that it was past ten o'clock, and that her mother was suffering from the effect of a sleepless night, besides being weak for want of nourishment. 
" How careless of me to sleep so late," she said regretfully, kissing the invalid's pale face. 
"You could n't help it, dearie. You needed the rest. And what did you think of the ball, eh?" 
The girl began an enthusiastic description, but soon cut her words short and hurried to the kit chen. Her mind was so full of the lights and triumphs of the ball that she found it difficult to 
 
 THE SONS OF HAM, 
 
51 
 
concentrate her attention on the preparation of a tiny omelet and a cup of coffee, and realized pre sently that she had neglected the first and most necessary step involved, the building of a fire. And now a look of dismay overspread her face as she recalled that the supply of wood was exhausted and the wherewithal of a fire was not at hand. A temporary blaze from the chips usually scattered about the wood-pile was not impossible, but a load of wood had been needed for several days and the gleanings from this source had already been con sumed. Reba thought of the fable of the cricket that danced and chirruped all summer, laying nothing by, and when the winds of winter came crept about hungry and shivering. 
" If I can't find a board somewhere about, I '11 have to go down to the woods and get a lightwood knot and chop it up," was her troubled reflection, as she took down her work-day bonnet from a peg on the piazza. 
But for a fine mist, the rain had now ceased, and Reba started across the little field a few minutes later, with no worse prospect threatening than a pair of wet feet. She hoped that no one passing on the neighboring road would see her or suspect the object of her errand, and pulled the old cloth sun-bonnet far down over her face, trusting that in any event she would not be recognized. The secret of this desperate poverty must be kept. 
Once beyond the open field and among the trees 
 
 52 
 
THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
of the pine woods, she felt less concerned and centred her whole attention-upon the search for a suitable piece of wood. But, as was soon evident, small lightwood knots were rare, and large ones, too, the ground having been foraged full often already. Her glance being confined to the immedi ately surrounding area of wire-grass as she moved forward in her anxious search, the girl strayed further than she intended and unknowingly stood within a few feet of the road before discovering a piece of wood which she thought she would be able to carry. While struggling with it and feeling very forlorn and wretched, poor Reba's attention was suddenly arrested by the sound of approaching wheels. Dropping her find and casting a frightened glance over her shoulder, she saw that the occu pant of the vehicle was young Morton, that he had drawn rein, had almost stopped, and was looking at her with wonder-struck eyes. 
The girl knew that her limp bonnet very success fully concealed her face; she thought it possible and earnestly hoped that, although the distance was so short, he had not recognized her. In any event she was determined not to allow him to carry her burden, an intention which seemed to be indicated in his manner, or the fact that he had drawn rein ; and a moment later she was stooping and plucking a wild flower within a foot of the lightwood knot, just as if this has been the object of her struggles in the first place. Then, apparently unconscious 
 
 THE SOA'S OF HAM. 
 
53 
 
of his presence, she walked away, stooping pres ently to gather another flower, and farther on still another. The observer, who had not quite stopped, now drove on, wondering at what he had seen. He was not quite sure, but strongly suspected that it was Reba, and was at a loss to explain the situa tion. He had distinctly seen her struggling with a piece of wood, as if she intended to lift and carry it, and it certainly seemed improbable that she would go into the wet woods at that hour of a 
o 
rainy morning in order to gather wild flowers. Five minutes later Reba was crossing the little 
rice field, dragging her prize after her and con gratulating herself upon having escaped detection. She did not know that even at that moment two negro men who had halted on the road were ob serving her and commenting. It was an hour when other men were at work, but these two had been strolling aimlessly along, with the air of per sons with nothing in the world to do. 
" Jes' look at dat young white 'oman," said one. " She must be mighty po' if she have to go out and git her own wood dat-a way." The speaker was celebrated for his name, which was no less an absurdity than Mamie-Lou John, his mother having felt moved to adopt and bestow upon him in in fancy the compound Christian name of a pretty little white girl. John was his father's surname. 
" Dat's Reba Law'nce," said the other, who was known as Cicero Witherspoon and was the husband 
 
 54 
 
THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
of Josephine. " You mighty right, she po'; she have to make clothes for Rosetta and dem other gals and Josephine she deck de money for her. (I made Josephine gim me some of it one time.) She wut you call po' buckra sho-nuf." 
"When Reba finally carried in her mother's break fast she was met by the first real complaint she could remember to have heard from her. Mrs. Lawrence was a patient woman; she had suffered much and had schooled herself to endure in silence ; but she was not wholly free from the notorious selfishness of the average invalid. And this morn ing she had been sorely tried; she had waited until she was faint and her patience was gone. 
" What made you so longf" she askec1 , irritably. " I am astonished." 
" I could n't help it," Reba answered, her eyes filling. She sat down in a corner, feeling hurt, and waited until her mother had eaten. At last she said: "There was no wood, and I had to go down into the woods and get a piece before I could build a fire." 
"What!" exclaimed Mrs. Lawrence, deeply shocked. "Why, what does this mean? Why is there no wood? Did you forget to order it? " 
"A load passed here yesterday, but I could n't stop it because I did n't have the money," answered Reba, absently. 
" You did n't have the money to pay for a load of wood ! " said Mrs. Lawrence, her eyes expand- 
 
 THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
55 
 
ing. (l What has gone with it all, then? We can 
 
at least buy wood, I hope." 
 
The implied reproach was too much for Reba to 
 
endure in her present mood; she felt that she 
 
could bear the burden of responsibility no longer. 
 
Bursting into tears, she told the whole pitiable 
 
story, the loss of their income nine months 
 
before, the melting away of their little hoarded 
 
sum, the sewing for the negroes, and all her pain 
 
fully careful little economies. After a few excla 
 
mations of amazement, Mrs. Lawrence listened in 
 
silence to the end. Then she rose in her bed to a 
 
sitting posture, clasped her daughter in her arms, 
 
and wept as Reba had never seen her weep. 
 
" Don 't cry so, mamma," begged the girl at last. 
 
"We have been able to manage for nine months 
 
and we can still go on." 
 
" To think that I could have been so thousfhti^ss o 
and selfish when my poor, brave child was goi ig 
 
through such a struggle," sobbed the unnerved 
 
invalid. " I can never forsrive mvself, Reba. I 
 
o 
 
* 
 
thought you were mismanaging and wasting our 
 
little income foolishly. Why why didn't you 
 
tell me everything? " 
 
" If you had been strong I should have, but I 
 
wanted to spare you; and now now that you 
 
know all about it, something must be done. You 
 
are not getting proper food. I '11 speak to Aunt 
 
Matilda, and it may be Mr. Brown will advance us 
 
some money until " 
 
 56 
 
THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
"No!" 
 
Mrs. Lawrence's tears ceased to flow at this 
 
suggestion, and leaning back among her pillows, 
 
she calmly discussed the situation, although weak 
 
from unwonted excitement. Xo, they would do 
 
no such thing. For the present they would go on 
 
as Reba had begun. They would continue to soli 
 
cit sewingo and would do the work togo ether; hereafter Reba should not work so hard, the mother 
 
would do the larger part of the sewing, propped 
 
up in bed when she could not sit up. She believed 
 
it would be better for her anyhow than so much 
 
reading. She was handy with the needle, fortu 
 
nately ; she had taken to fine needlework when 
 
quite a child, had once, she recollected, pleased 
 
her father verv* much bv* embroideringo the familv> arms in colors. There were many things about 
 
the house of no real use to them which Josephine 
 
would be glad to own ; thev would encourage her 
 
o 
 
^ 
 
o 
 
by more frequent gifts to procure more work than 
 
heretofore, and perhaps she could be induced to try 
 
harder to collect the money. How strange it 
 
seemed to be reduced to such depth of poverty, 
 
to a pittance gained by sewing for one's former 
 
slaves, after what the family had once been! 
 
" My father took me all over Europe before I 
 
was married," said Mrs. Lawrence, sadly, " and a 
 
few years afterwards my husband took me again. 
 
The money spent during those two years abroad 
 
would make us rich now. I never dreamed what 
 
 THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
57 
 
real want was before. Even after the war your father managed to keep us comfortable." 
But she soon shut her mind to this painful con trast and again bravely faced the present, going over the particulars of the proposed plan. Reba listened doubtfully yet hopefully, relieved to have another share with her the burden of responsibility. When at last she lifted the tray and left the room, however, the enthusiasm in her mother's face slowl*v died out. 
" I understand now why Reba looks so thin," she told herself, in great pain. " I suspect that for a long while she has been cooking only for me and eating scarcely anything herself. I will see to that in future." 
And she saw to it. From that day on Reba observed with grave solicitude, but without suspi cion, that her mother's appetite steadily failed. She complained that she could not eat, and left untouched full two-thirds of the .scant meal that was set before her three times a day. This slow starvation was, however, not allowed to interfere with the labor which she had engaged to do. Whenever the work was in the house she could not be persuaded to let it alone, and sewed regu larly and hard. 
" We shall be able to manage," she would say, " until the railroad begins to pay again; or," she once added, " until you marry. You have had no offers as yet, Reba? " 
 
 58 
 
THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
" I could have had from Charlie and from Sam Thomas, but I always discourage them when when " The girl halted, as if disliking to con tinue. '' Charlie is like a brother," she added, " and nothing on earth could induce me even to think of Sam Thomas." 
"/like Robert Morton," said Mrs. Lawrence; and observing that her daughter adroitly avoided discussing this young man, she drew an inference which was far from displeasing to her. (1 I would rather see you in your grave," she added, " than to see you marry for anything but love." 
It was on the afternoon of the same troublous day that Reba received a visit from an old negress who had been for many years a slave in the Morton family, and who was in most respects a slave still. That is to say, she was in no sense a part of the present with which her children and grandchildren were identified, but was one of the few fossil-like relics of the past. These antique survivals are now-a-days so rare that they stand out in bold relief, so to speak. " Maum Katie " so she was called in the Morton family and by most people of her own race also could not read and write, and was otherwise unlike the younger generation, tak ing little interest in its ambitions and struggles, and being little influenced by its suppressed hatred of the whites. She had lived fifty years as a slave in one family, in the household as maid and seam stress, and, being kindly dealt with, a genuine 
 
 THE SOAS OF HA^f. 
 
59 
 
affection for those with whom she was in constant 
 
association did not fail to awaken in her and live. 
 
Those fifty years, in fact, had been more satisfactory 
 
as 
 
rego ards 
 
bodilv-* 
 
comfort 
 
than 
 
the 
 
succeeding c 
 
twenty-five during which she had shifted for her 
 
self; and she remembered this slightly to the detri 
 
ment of the present. Maum Katie knew that there 
 
was a present and was vaguely conscious that 
 
there would be a future, but was herself essentially 
 
of the past. 
 
The family in which she would proudly say that 
 
that she had been " raised " was now broken up 
 
and scattered ; some had fallen in the war, others 
 
had died at home, others still had married and 
 
moved to a distance. The only representative of 
 
this family in Barcelona now was her young " Mas' 
 
Robert " whose linen she washed. Maum Katie 
 
also served the Lawrence household in the same 
 
capacity; for washing was her trade, and she was 
 
still an active woman, in spite of her white woolly 
 
hair and her seventy-five years. 
 
" I come to git de wash, Miss Reba, honey," she 
 
said, cheerily. Reba had heard her step and gone 
 
out on the back piazza to meet her. 
 
" I can't give it to you any longer," said the girl, 
 
sadly/ . 
"Ain't I doin' it right? Don't it suit you?" 
 
Maum Katie had a good face, and the anxiety now 
 
written upon it clearly indicated a fear that she 
 
 60 
 
THE SONS OF HAM, 
 
had failed in her duty rather than concern for the loss of custom. 
" It isn't that. You do it beautifullv* . I meant that I would have to do it myself hereafter." 
Maum Katie looked inexpressibly shocked. " Wid all you got to do?' 1 she ejaculated, after a moment. " You got to cook, and you got to sew, and you got to wait on yo' ma; you can't do it. You ain't strong enough, nohow." 
"We can't afford to pay for it any longer. I don't mind telling^;, Maum Katie." 
" Nem mind 'bout payin', Miss Reba, honey. You km me do de washin', an' you kin des pay me when you git de money. Nem mind 'bout payin'." 
Reba's eyes filled with tears as she listened to this speech, which was uttered with the sweetness and gentleness of an angel of mercy. 
"Oh, Maum Katie, I couldn't think of doing that. How could you afford it? You are very good." 
Maum Katie protested that she could afford it; she was able to lay by a little money every month. Anyhow, she was going to do it; they couldn't turn her off without warning in that way! 
If she really thought she could, then, Reba con fessed that it would really be a great relief to them ; and they would pay her as soon as they could. In the mean time, they had " clothes and things " which she could make use of perhaps. "And Maum 
 
 THE SONS OF HAM.* 
 
61 
 
Katie," the girl added, as the old woman, having determinedly possessed herself of the wash, was ready to start, " Josephine said you had a grandson who was a school-teacher ; we could give him some books which he could make good use of, if you will tell him to stop here some day." 
"I'll tell him and he'll sho' come/' said Maum Katie, much pleased. " He love to git all de books 
he kin, Neil do." She went down the steps laughing and saying 
good-by, but as soon as Reba re-entered the house, she put down her bundle and retraced her steps. Maum Katie knew that when a white woman of the higher class in Barcelona attempted to do her own washing it meant extreme poverty, and she determined on an investigation of the present case. Stealing across the latticed piazza, which separated the main body of the house from the dining-room, she cautiously opened the door of the latter and entered. After a hasty survey of kitchen and dining-room, and a minute examination of the contents of the pantry, which was not locked, she reappeared on the piazza., went softly down the steps, took up her bundle, and walked away shak ing her head and muttering. 
" Oh, people ! " she ejaculated, " dem two po3 women gwine to starve, you see 'em so. Dat won't do, dat won't do. Can't last long dat-a way. I aim to tell Mas' Robert de fust chance I git. I know Miss Reba de lady he want; I know it mighty 
 
 ' mI 
 
' 
 
6* 
 
THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
well from de way he ax me 'bout her dat day, an' if I tell him dis he '11 hurry up an* ax her to have him. Look yuh, Katie," she checked herself suddenly, standing still in the street, " may be you better not now; ' t ain't none o' yo* business nohow. Yes I will, too, bein' it's Mas' Robert," she continued, walking forward. " I know mighty well he ain't de kind o' man to back out jes' 'cause she so po'." 
Her grandson, whom she called Neil, but who was known among his friends as Professor Brice, appeared promptly on the following afternoon. He came up the back ste'ps, as she was wont to do, and rapped on the hall door, taking off his hat when Reba appeared. He was well dressed and distin guished by quite an intelligent expression of countenance. 
"I suppose you are the school-teacher," said Reba, knowing he could be no other. 
" Yes, ma'am." The girl left him standing where he was and returned presently with an armful of books. " Maum Katie is so kind," she said, " I want to do something to please her. I think you can make use of all these." " Thank you, ma'am," said the ' Professor' with gratitude, looking eagerly at the titles as he took the books. " I 'm mighty glad to get 'em. I love to read. I's read a heap o' books in my time," he added, with a species of childish vanity which amused Reba. " If I can do anything for you any 
 
 THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
63 
 
time, ma'am, please call on me," he said finally, and departed. 
"He might have cut me a little wood now" thought Reba, with a smile, as she saw him go ; " but I hardly liked to suggest his doing what he would doubtless consider beneath his dignity." 
 
 ?.-.-.;-_-^-i' '.t'fr':?!'--*-*" 
V. 
ABOUT four o'clock in the afternoon of the day after the ball, the visiting Philadelphians parted with Miss Black at the photographer's door, and went for a walk. They expected to take the south ward train early in the evening, and desired to em ploy the intervening time in seeing the town, or such of its external features as might interest them. Greatly to the satisfaction of Miss Black, whose unconscious attitude was one of responsibility for everything connected with Barcelona, they avowed having been highly entertained at the ball, and re gretted that they could not see more of some of the people whose acquaintance they had made on that occasion. 
" Paul fell in love with Miss Lawrence," laughed Mrs. Blossom, " and wants me to invite her to Philadelphia." 
" Don't you agree with me, Miss Black," the young man had rejoined, "that a 'Queen of Beauty* fresh from a semi-mediaeval tournament would be a pleasing novelty in the Quaker City? " 
 
 THE SQNS OF HAM. 
 
65 
 
They first walked straight out" a prominent street into the suburbs, admiring a house here and there built after an unusual pattern and with perhaps yel low jessamines or Madeira-vines clambering over the trellised piazzas. A mocking-bird in the top of a China-tree arrested their attention now and then, and once they glimpsed the rare cardinal-bird as it flamed through the dark green of the pecans. Farther out they stopped to look at sugar-cane growing, and recognized a few orange and banana trees. But it was the people who most interested them, particularly the blacks; and they soon re turned to the business quarter, boldly invading the contiguous haunts of busy and idle negroes, where no native white woman was ever seen, stopping to look and comment with the freedom of travellers who had no reputation at stake. 
The narrow, dirty back street which they had entered was occupied chiefly by negro restaurants, but there was here and there a cobbler's shop, a' fish market, or a drinking saloon. Near one of the last-named they stopped to look at a large wire cage containing four dogs, two raccoons, a goat, a monkey, and a grinning, full-grown young negro. 
" Darwin would have gone half-way round the world to see this," laughed Shepherd, " a case of natural selection ready to his hand." 
The monkey was unquestionably the handsomest animal of the lot, and the most agile; when the dogs barked and the goat jumped, this favored 
5 
 
 66 
 
T^re .SttAr.? 0/* HAM. 
 
beast would mount the side of the cage in a twinkling and save his fur, a resource not open to the brother last named in the catalogue. The aim of this curious collection was to hold the interest of the passer-by till thirst reminded him that he stood at the door of a saloon. The two Northerners agreed that the caricatures of men who sell their backs to advertisers in New York and Philadelphia are relatively dignified characters, and must yield the palm to the last-named member of the Barce lona menagerie. 
It was while halting here that they observed a young negro stop a passing reverend of the fair race, and ask what would be his charge for joining two dusky lovers in wedlock. On being informed that the price of such service would be one dollar, he promptly rejoined : 
" I kin git it done cheaper." " Go ahead, then," was the disgusted retort. " I ought to have said five dollars. You '11 be paying some lawyer fifteen for a divorce in less than six months." The street came to an end in an open square where a merry-go-round attracted crowds. Any where in the world there is magic for the child in the monotonous round of those gayly painted chairs and horses, accompanied by the boisterous harmony of a young hand-organ or the distressing plaint of an aged one; but here was delight for any and all representatives of a semi-childlike race. 
 
r'"' ~- ' 
 
 THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
67 
 
The dusky damosel and her swain, the middle-aged, and even old black men and women, were here seen to mount the fascinating wooden horses and ride them with all the glee of their grandchildren. 
On retracing their steps through the same nar row dirty street described above, the tourists were genuinely surprised to find two representatives of this race, both women, who were attempting to ride a horse of a very different species, which noble animal was none other than Pegasus himself. They were said to establish themselves there every Saturday en the porch of a negro restaurant and sell hymns which they had themselves com posed. These compositions were printed on slips of paper and offered to the public at five cents each. One of the dusky poets was blind, and was known as the Blind Lady; the other was a robust young creature with a heavy contralto voice, who attracted crowds [of blacks] by singing her own and the Blind Lady's productions, the music being unquestionably a native product also. It was inton ing rather than singing, and was chiefly remarkable for monotonous repetition and the absence of any but the most rudimentary elements of harmony; but there was a certain rhythm of word and rich ness of tone that were not without charm. 
A slip was purchased and examined by the trav ellers with great curiosity, desirous to form an esti mate of the talents of these unexpected minstrels. At the top was printed in large letters, "Noah, 
 
 68 
 
THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
Hoiat the Window, By Rachel Macky." Then followed the hymn, epic poem, or whatsoever it might be, which they had heard delivered in the rich, chanting voice of its author: 
 
" God commanded old Noah one day, Told old Noah to build an ark. In the woods old Noah did go, And the first thing that old Noah done, Noah cut his timber down. Next thing that old Noah done, Old Noah laid the foundation down. The ark was made of gopher wood. The next thing that old Noah done, Old Noah commenced to frame his ark. How long was Noah building the ark ? Noah was a hundred and twenty years Building on the ark of God. A foolish man came riding by, And pointed the finger of scorn at Noah, And called Noah that foolish man Building his ark on this hard dry land. And Noah replied to the foolish man: * Foolish man, you had better pray ; I am looking for judgment every day.' " 
 
And so on, at great length. At the end of each line the following "chorus " was sung without fail: 
 
" Hoist the window, let the deve come in." 
 
Young Shepherd thought of blind Homer, with a smile at the comparison. He thought the subject chosen was alive with the elements of an epic, how- 
 
 THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
69 
 
ever, and that it might well be doubted if the bard or rhapsode who struck his harp in the andronitis of the Greek home and recited from Hesiod or Homer was accorded more earnest attention than was now given this robust young negress. He thought it unlikely that the names of Rachel Macky and the Blind Lady would ever be written on " fame's eternal bead-roll," but there was every indication that they would always remain a wonder and delight to their friends. 
" The landlord said we should go down into the 'Neck' if we wanted to see negroes," he remarked, as they were returning to their hotel. 
" They are so disgusting, but yet so interesting," said Mrs. Blossom. " Perhaps I '11 go there next spring. I think I shall stop here on my return from Jamaica. I want to see more of my niece, and of that ' queen' of yours, too." 
The place called the " Neck" which they had been recommended to visit was the negro section of the town, in reality a teeming suburb containing almost as many inhabitants as Barcelona proper. Here were two churches, a public hall, two schoolhouses, and many fairly comfortable little dwellinghouses, containing from two to five rooms each, and not a few cheerless hovels. In one of these latter lived Josephine and Cicero Witherspoon. They were not as prosperous as some of their neigh bors, and found it necessary to live in an aged shanty of two rooms, for which, including the 
 
 70 
surrounding inclosure of half an acre, they paid a rent of two dollars per month. It may seem strange, but Josephine thought the amount exces sive, and loudly abused the landlord for his shame less avarice whenever he sent her a dun for rent overdue. This, it may be, was partly because she did all the paying that was done herself, her husband being a conscienceless vagabond who was never known to pay anything. Fortunately, she was a celebrated laundress, and did the washing of a number of single men of the white race, each one of whom paid her monthly a sum exceeding the rent, and so she managed not to be turned out, and contrived to clothe her children, feed her husband, and indulge herself in a few vanities. 
Josephine was a fat blooming matron of thirty summers, strong, healthy, good-humored, willing to work, satisfied with little, easily moved to laughter, enamoured of song; her children never went hungry, and she herself was always decently clothed. Yet she was not happy. She was willing to forgive Cicero for shirking all responsibility and compelling her to support the family, but shecould not forgive him for being unfaithful. He was a youth of eighteen when they married, and she a widow of twenty-five, and there were now three more children added to the five resulting from her first very early marriage. Cicero was a hunter, a fisherman, a loafer addicted to light theft and lying, anything,, everything but what 
 
 THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
71 
 
he ought to have been. He condescended to hire himself out just often enough to escape the vagrant law, meanwhile working havoc in the fowl-houses, melon-patches and potato-banks of the white man. Josephine was of an easy conscience and accepted the spoils without rancorous comment; but when Cicero smiled too openly upon the comely dusky maids of the Neck she did not spare him. 
At the same hour that the Northern visitors started on their tour of exploration near the busi ness quarter in Barcelona, Josephine stood sing ing over her wash-tub at her home in the Neck. There was a China-tree in the rear of her house which provided a cool shade, but Josephine pre ferred to work in her front yard, whence she could see those who came and went on the street, and now stood there bare-headed in the hot October sun. As she took the steaming garments from her wash-pot, placing them in dripping wads on an upright sawed round of a pine-tree, and belabored them vigorously with a stout " battlin'-stick," every blow precipitating a light shower upon all things within a radius of ten feet, including her three younger children playing near, Josephine sang with that joyous forgetfulness which is the African woman's solace. Now and then she stopped sing ing to order her children away from the fire, or to soliloquize, the burden of her oral thought being the recreant Cicero as a rule; and again she would call to the woman seated on the porch of the 
 
 72 
 
THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
neighboring house and exchange with her a few friendly remarks. Anon, seeing a young woman passing on the street, she- left her work, went and leaned on her gate, and gossiped with her for ten minutes. As the girl was about to move on, she detained her with the following: 
" Look yuh, Susan, Reba Law'nce want dat money for dat dress, you see her so. She say she got to have it." 
" Let her come git it, den," said Susan, con temptuously. 
"You been owin' it six months/' " Don't care if I is. I '11 owe it six years if I want to. I aim to pay it when I git ready and not befo'." 
Josephine laughed loud and long, as if greatly amused, and her look of appreciation seemed to recognize in Susan's pert remarks the very soul of wit. Josephine was one of your good-natured chameleons who always take their color from the nearest object. 
"You better pay dat money," she said, still laughing. " Reba say she '11 have you 'rested and' put in jail." Clearly Josephine's memory could not be relied on, for not only had the unhappy young seamstress not threatened an arrest, but when the enthusiastic Josephine proposed to "beat" the stubborn Susan she had distinctly advised a less violent course, preferring even to relinquish her claim. 
 
 THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
73 
 
Susan received the threat with indifference, re torting scornfully as she moved away, " Dat po' young buckra woman better not fool wid me!' 
The next passer-by who distracted Josephine's attention from her labors was a white woman, a tall, gaunt, pale-faced creature who was far from attractive outwardly. Her name was Simpson, and she lived with her husband and children on a small farm just outside of town. The Simpsons were natives of a New Jersey village and had settled in their present position soon after the war, having come South for the benefit of a milder climate. Simpson was a brick-layer, but ill-health prevented him from following his trade closely and he had never been prosperous, being now less so than ever. He was too poor to send his children to school, and it was one of his sons whom Reba was teaching to read in return for his labor at odd times. Simpson was a man of some intelligence, and his voice was now and then heard in the politi cal debates which could frequently be heard on the main street of Barcelona. He lost no opportunity to revile the State law which, in effect, provided a free school for the blacks but not for the whites. The school-fund was from a tax on property, nine-tenths of which was owned by the whites, and was distributed per capita, irrespective of color. The fund was not adequate, and no educated white man could be found to open a school without further remuneration. On the other hand, fairly 
 
 74 
 
THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
competent negro men were glad to take the chances and teach for the public money alone; and so the black schools, being absolutely free, were crowded, the pittance apportioned to each child amounting to a considerable sum in the aggregate and satisfying the teachers. But in the case of the white schools, the public fund served only to re duce the regular price of tuition, and the very poor were obliged to stay away. 
On going back and forth from town, the Simpsons were obliged either to make a wearisome deiour or pass through the Neck. It is notorious that the average Southern negro has no respect for the poor white man or woman. This is only the appearance; the reality is that, in such cases, he dares to allow his suppressed hatred for the race in general to appear openly. The rich or otherwise powerful realize little of this; the Simpsons understood it thoroughly, being not infre quently the victim of it in their journeys through the Neck. Josephine had never been personally aggrieved by the gaunt Mrs. Simpson, and yet her contempt for that woman knew no bounds; and she one day purposely ran against her in the street, loudly declaring that " po' buckra " should " give her the road "! It was a fact patent to the dullest comprehension that whatever collided with the heavy Josephine would be rudely shaken, and Mrs. Simpson had not failed to suffer from the shock. Thereafter, on passing through the Neck, she 
 
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invariably provided herself with a short, sharppointed stick or a similar weapon, which, one later day when Josephine again attempted her playful manoeuvre, came into rude and painful contact with the latter's fleshy person and caused her to avoid such amusement in future. 
All this is to explain why Josephine began to laugh as soon as she observed the approach of the unfortunate Mrs. Simpson, and to call out loudly to her friend on the porch of the neighboring house: 
" Ca'line ! O Ca'line ! you want to see a pondgannet ?" 1 
"Wher'bouts?" responded "Ca'line," looking toward the swamp in the distance. 
" Shoo ! don't have to go to de swamp to see a pond-gannet dese days," shrieked Josephine, almost overcome with laughter. " I see a lank, white pond-gannet go walkin' by yuh 'most every day." 
Caroline now understood the situation and laughed as loudly as her neighbor, meanwhile staring straight at the passing white woman who understood also and looked the other way in labored unconcern. 
" Ca'line, you sen* your chillun to school and I sen' my chillun to school," continued Josephine, in great glee, " but heap o' dese buckra so po' dey 
 
1 Locally, a tall white crane. 
 
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have to keep dey chillun Rome. If I was like some O* dese po' buckra I 'd go off and crawl in a hole and stay dere." 
"And if I had my will," muttered the furious Mrs. Simpson, passing on, " I 'd have you and every other nigger drummed out of this country ! " 
Josephine continued to indulge in these pointed remarks, punctuated by shrieks of laughter, until the "pond-gannet" was well out of hearing, then returned to her tubs. About half an hour later the schoolmaster known as Professor Brice, and another well-dressed and well-fed man, a good many years his senior, stopped at the gate. The latter was one of the many negro preachers of Barcelona and Malvern County, and was known as Parson Smith. 
" Is Mr. Witherspoon home, Mis' Witherspoon ? " they asked. 
Josephine said he was not, but she was expect ing him every minute; would they not come in ? She advanced toward them with a smile of rapture, reflecting upon the honor of having both the par son and the professor at her gate, and hoping the watchful neighbors were duly impressed. 
"We ain't got time to stop now," the professor replied. " I wish you 'd tell Cicero we 'd like to meet him at the hall to-morrow night. We want to organize a debatin' club." 
Josephine promised effusively to transmit the message, and the distinguished visitors passed on. 
 
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" Cicero is mighty triflin','' said the parson when they were out of hearing, " but he 's smart, and I reckon he could make a pretty good speech. We ought to have Mamie-Lou John, too; he ain't no fool hisself." 
Josephine accomplished little at her tubs that afternoon. The parson and the professor were hardly out of sight when her attention was again taken off her work. Two persons, a young man and a young woman, were now passing on the op posite side of the street, apparently much absorbed in each other. A low, delighted laugh from the latter reached Josephine's ears and she immediately made use of her eyes. Yes, it was she Rosetta; and there beside her was Cicero deftly employing his flattering tongue. 
"Chillun, keep out dat fire ! " ordered Josephine, savagely, as she buttoned her loosened sleeve above the elbow, grasped the hickory clothes-stick firmly, and rushed forward as if to battle. Her husband, to all appearances, was merely taking the air in agreeable company, but when she saw him and his companion Josephine boiled over more impetur ously than her wash-pot had ever done over the hottest fire. The fire of. jealousy ah ! Flinging wide the gate, she flew across the street and bore down upon them, to the mute astonishment of Cicero and the terror of Rosetta. It was the same giddy Rosetta who had sent Reba urgent word.to make her dress " tight in de wais'." 
 
.'#! 
 
 f-T"' "'' "". ' " " .' 
.* . 
 
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"Look yuh, Cis'ro!" cried Josephine, flourish ing her battling-stick, " you better be in dat g-yardin' plantin' turnips and holpin' me feed dem chillun, stidder foolin' 'long yuh wid dis gal! " Then to Rosetta: " Wut you doin' yuh, you triflin' hussy! Cl'ar out from yuh right straight! " 
" Wut in de name o' goodness I done to you ? " demanded Rosetta, with spirit " I like to know is it any yo' business if I walk 'long dis street ? 'T ain't none o' yo' street" 
" Leave yuh ! " cried Josephine, furiously. 
14 1 won't do it till I git ready," the girl retorted. " You sha'n't sass me dat-a way in front o' my own yard, you triflin1 ! " and losing the rest of her words in the tempest of her rage, Josephine suddenly collared her enemy and inflicted several smart raps across her head with the battling-stick. "Look yuh, woman, is you crazy?" remon strated Cicero, endeavoring to interfere. "You want 'em come and take you to jail yuh dis ebenin'? Better mind wut you " But the stick just then came in contact with his own head, and .he made haste to stand out of range. Her attention thus divided, Josephine's grasp of Rosetta's collar relaxed somewhat, and the fright ened girl broke wildly away and ran; whereupon die unsatisfied avenger entered upon an exciting chase, but being soon outdistanced she retraced her steps, puffing and blowing with great energy, and bent upon a more satisfactory reckoning with 
 
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her recreant spouse. But sly, slippery Cicero, in the local idiom, had made himself scarce. 
Does this sound like burlesque? No one will think so who has visited Barcelona and explored the Neck. 
 
 VI. 
ClCERO turned up in time to get his supper, how ever, and for two hours there was a war of words, verging now and again perilously near a physical scuffle. In some neighboring households the dis pute would .have been settled in short order by means of a stick in the hands of the husband; but Josephine was as strong as an ox and Cicero was afraid of her. Therefore his weapon took the shape of an olive-branch. He talked earnestly and repentantly, being vividly impressed with the fact that his course had imperilled his claim upon the three meals a day which his wife provided; for Josephine vowed that she would " quit" him, that, in other words, she was done with him forever. 
The pretended penitent solemnly promised not only to smile upon Rosetta no more, but to reform and go to work, and so there was a truce. But Cicero's promises were no more to be relied on than water in a sieve, he who had been known to engage his service to a half-dozen farmers for the 
 
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Si 
 
same Monday morning, only to leave them all in the lurch and go off for a day's fishing! Heedless of consequences, refusing to shoulder the responsi bility of anything under the sun, this was his character, as Josephine well knew, though none the less fond of him. Within two weeks, if there was any change at all, his behavior was worse than ever. He began to absent himself from home for days at a time, and finally ceased to make even the most insignificant contribution towards the house hold food supply, either from the despoiled hen roosts and potato-banks of the white man or from more legitimate sources. 
About this time Josephine fell sick, her children suffered for attention, and she longed for the recreant Cicero's presence in vain. During her illness an event occurred which shook the Neck to its foundations, an event of no less great impor tance than the arrival of the circus at Barcelona. The Neck turned out en masse, and Josephine's children begged to go with the rest of the world; but there was no money, and Cicero was out of reach. On the morning after all was over, their neighbor " Ca'line " appeared among them. She was full of the " show," and after expressing due sympathy and concern for the ailing Josephine, allowed her tongue full freedom of exercise upon the engaging topic. 
"I would n' 'a miss it for five hundud dollahs," she declared. " Josephine, you des ought to been 
 
 " "~*z~^&-^fTM^ -*?~rf.. 
 
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dere. I never see de like o' de big gang o' people struttin' dem street, and den dem poscessions gwine thoo town wid mens all dress up in red shiny clothes settin' up in dem big gold wagins tootin' dey horn oh-y! dat was putty ! Me and Doshy Bostick and a whole passel o' people followed 'em round town tell we was plum' wo' out. But all dat was n' nut'n to when we got inside de show and seen all dem lions and taggers and hoppypotymusses, and all dat cuttin' up and gwine on in de show ring! Gentermens! I could n 1 hardly b'lieve my eyes to see dem mens in dem tight putty clothes, lookin' like dey was 'most necked, swingin' so reckless up in dem swings 'way up de top de tent. And den dat sassy clown talkin' he funny talk, and den when dey brung out de ole elephant in de ring oh, people ! hit make me putty nigh bust a-laughin' to see dat tremenjous big ole creetur git up on he hind legs! Mighty sorry you sick; you ought to been dere sho'." 
" Did n' hab no money nohow," said Josephine, with gloomy resignation. 
Whereupon " Ca'line " looked inexpressibly shocked, and asked why Cicero could not have sup plied it. Cicero was at the show and had money, too; " Ca'line " had seen him with her " own eyes " in the company of Rosetta Hightower and another dusky damosel. He paid their way in, she had seen him " haul out de money; " furthermore, after the performance she had seen him treat them to 
 
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parched peanuts and the seductive red lemonade. Why was he not spending all that money on these children ? that was what " Ca'line " would like to know. 
Josephine made no rejoinder, but when her friend was departing she said : " Ef you see Cis'ro, I wish you 'd tell him I want him. Tell him I sick, and dese chillun ain't got nuthin' to eat, and ef he don't make 'ase and come on yuh he better! Tell him I ses-so." 
" Ca'line " promised to carry the message, but there was no sign of Cicero that day. On the follow ing morning a small bag of meal arrived, but still no Cicero. Josephine was now better and left her bed, cooking some corn bread and giving it to her children with sugar-cane syrup from a jug which still survived the famine. Then she stirred up the remainder of the meal for an immense pone of bread; it has been asserted that she stirred " brick' bats" into the mixture, but this was doubtless only an inference. At any rate, she baked it very brown and very hard, then got ready to go into town. 
About an hour before sunset that afternoon, as the rascal Cicero sat on a goods-box in the rear of a shop in Barcelona, enjoying a chat and a stalk of sugar-cane with his chum Mamie-Lou John, he suddenly became aware that his wife was bearing down upon him with the speed and spirit of an avenger. Her gaze was fierce from afar, and, 
 
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convinced that the bag of meal, instead of being received as a peace offering, had produced the effect of the last straw in the fable of the camel, Cicero trembled. 
" H-yuh you is, is you ?" cried the enraged woman, as she rushed upon the scene. 
Cicero slid from off the goods-box and darted toward the back door of the shop, but Josephine was quick to cut off his retreat. Before he knew it he was hemmed in a corner or angle made by a pile of boxes and the house wall, facing his trium phant accuser, who stood glaring at him, one hand on her hip while the other hung hidden in the folds of her dress. 
" Be ashame'o' yerself! " she said breathlessly. " G' way from yuh, 'oman and lem-me 'lone ! " cried Cicero, attempting to slip out of his prison. " Git back, nigger! " shouted Josephine, more enraged. " Ef you don't stand up dere and listen at me," she continued, in the extravagant, wind-bag language characteristic of her kind, " I swear I '11 fling you down and stomp you right yuh in de broad open day! " At this fearful threat the culprit hesitated to move, and, steadily glaring at him, Josephine slowly lifted her left hand from the folds of her frock and brought to view the enormous pone of corn bread. " Dis wut you send me to feed my chillun wid, eh?" she cried contemptuously, holding it up and 
 
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breaking off a large piece. " Why n't you come home, go to work, and feed my chillun? say! you low-down, triflin' scamp ! " And she let fly the broken piece of bread and struck him in the face, to the intense amusement of the gathering crowd. 
" Is you crazy, 'oman?" was Cicero's nervous ejaculation, while dodging the next piece. But she refused to desist, breaking up the pone and hurling fragment after fragment at him, sometimes striking him, but more often the house wall a foot or two to the right or the left. 
" Now den," concluded Josephine, after pausing to catch her breath, " mind wut I tell you : I don't want nuthin' mo' to do wid you from dis on; and ef ever you come foolin' round my house I aim to bust you wide open, you year me ! Des put yo' foot inside o' dat do' ef you dare ! " 
With that she raised aloft the knotty remnant of the pone of bread, and hurled it at him with all her strength. It struck the wall two feet above his head and fell upon him in a shower of fragments; after which fitting climax Josephine wheeled about with an assumption of extravagant haughtiness and contempt, and went her way homeward, angrily and audibly communing with herself all along the road. Left to himself, the humiliated Cicero lost no time in making his escape from the gibing specta tors, who were loath to see the end of so unusual and so entertaining a " fight." 
 
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Meanwhile Rosetta High tower was absorbed in her own passions, desires, and interests. She was only about eighteen, but already loved unlawfully and had entered into very close relations with the green-eyed monster. She was of the New South, had attended school during several years, and could read and write; but her passion for Cicero and her hatred of Josephine were made none the less violent thereby. After being attacked on the street she burned with a desire to revenge herself, and watched for an opportunity, meanwhile doing everything within her power to attract Cicero to herself, and keep him away from his nominal home. 
Her father was a carpenter who made a fairly comfortable livelihood and occupied one of the more pretentious houses of the Neck, which he had built himself. It was thus unnecessary for Rosetta to go into service, and she employed her self in assisting her mother at home, in visiting her friends, and largely in strolling about the streets of Barcelona in the company of her admirers, and riding on the merry-go-round. She spent much of her own money and that of her admirers the most favored among these being Cicero on the latter. 
A day or two after her encounter with Jose phine, Rosetta heard some of her acquaintances speak fearfully of the powers of a certain Mammy Nanny, who enjoyed the dark reputation of being 
 
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a trick-doctor or sorceress. It was claimed that this person, whose knowledge of the black art was reputed to be unlimited, had recently " put bad mouth on" (bewitched) a young black man who formerly was in robust health, but now seemed rapidly going into a decline. He had found one morning before his door the leg of a toad, two rusty nails, and a piece of brier-root, tied together with a strip of red flannel, and from that hour hig health failed. An unknown enemy had procured this " bad mouth" concoction from the sorceress and placed it in the victim's path with the sinister 
result indicated. Rosetta had often heard of Mammy Nanny's secret 
and unlawful doings, but never before had she listened with such absorbed interest and turbulent emotions. This was her opportunity; she won dered that it had not occurred to her before. Cost what it might, she determined to visit the old woman and obtain not only a love-philter which she would give to Cicero, but a sinister charm as well, with which to afflict her enemy, Josephine. The girl knew where Mammy Nanny lived, and lost no time in seeking an interview. On the same afternoon she slipped away stealthily, and penetrated the woods below the Neck, where the conjurer's hut was to be found, her courage and determination gradually failing her as she approached. The old, tumble-down house was inclosed by a zigzag railfence, and stood almost in the edge of a low 
 
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swamp which stretched gloomily away, all a tangle of vines, bushes, trees, slimy moss, and stagnant water, with here and there a towering cypress or pine lifting itself above the average level. 
A dead black-snake hung across the fence, its blue-white belly upturned to the sky, in mute peti tion to the god of rain. This, at least, was Rosetta's interpretation as she looked away with a shudder. Climbing the "gap," the girl approached the house, but suddenly drew back with a gasp of terror as a small live snake ran across her path. What if Mammy Nanny kept a house full of snakes as pets ! It might be she tamed them by the score, and played with them, and then ate them, thus to league herself with the devil and acquire that unlawful power for which she was noted. Rosetta became so unnerved, in the sway of such thoughts, that when she reached the cabin door, which was closed, she dared not knock. 
" Mammy Nanny ! Mammy Nanny ! " she called faintly at last, starting at the sound of her own voice. 
There was no answer, and the sudden, threaten ing cry of a hawk in the swamp so upset the girl that she drew hastily away from the door and started for the gap, ready to abandon her design. But now the odor of cooking meat saluted her nos trils and stayed her feet This was human, reason able; after all, the situation might not be so full of horrors. Rosetta concluded to steal around the 
 
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house and obtain a back view. Perhaps the rear door would be open, and she would be able to observe the old witch and her surroundings before making her own presence known. Tiptoeing past the angle of the house, the girl halted abruptly and stood staring. 
The rear inclosure was hardly to be called either a yard or a garden, being overrun with wire-grass, bushes, and trees in their native wild state. Near the centre was an open space, screened on the one hand by a thicket cf blackjack, and on the other by a Cherokee rose-vine which clambered in wild luxuriance over everything within range, including the tall stump of a pine. Nettles, fennels, and jimpson-weed grew unchecked about the doorstep, and through these for a distance of some forty feet a path led out to the open space, in the centre of which a fire was burning. Over the fire a large pot swung from a tripod of three long sticks, and near by on a corn-husk mat sat a white-haired old black woman. Rosetta now comprehended that it was a piece of meat stewing in this pot which had agreeably affected her olfactories and restored her courage. The sun shone hot upon everything and the old woman sat baking in it, writh nothing but a cotton cloth protecting her head. Heat is the typical negro's element. 
Mammy Nanny sat with her back toward the house, muttering darkly to herself, and Rosetta dared not approach. However, she shifted her 
 
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position in order to obtain a better view, observing then that glowing coals had recently been raked out of the fire and that a blackened pan was heat ing upon them immediately at the trick-doctor's feet She saw also that the old woman had a live dove in her hand, and wondered how she could have caught it. Hardly had she made these obser vations when Mammy Nanny ceased her mutterings, and, seizing the dove by the neck, deftly wrung off its head; then, without removing its feathers, she opened its quivering body with a knife and tore out its heart, and this, all covered with blood as it was, she put into the hot pan where it was soon scorched and blackened. When little was left but a tiny bit of charred flesh she took it up with her bare hand and dropped it into a small copper mortar at her feet. Having poured in a large spoonful of a grayish powder which may have been dark wheat-flour, she seized the pestle and pounded vigorously. It was while thus en gaged that she was startled by the sound of a dog barking in the woods and looked searchingly about her with a pair of sharp, black, glittering eye's. These did not fail to discover Rosetta, who then felt compelled to walk forward. The girl was greatly frightened, but was the first to speak. 
"How you come on, Mammy Nanny?" she asked, politely. 
"Wud you doin'yuh? \Vud you doin' yuh?" was the old woman's startled rejoinder, in a husky 
 
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voice, as she hastily covered the copper mortar with a cloth lying at hand. " Who is you? Who is you ? " 
" My name Rosetta Hightower. I come git you to kunjer somebody for me." 
" \Vho tole you I kunjer? Who tole you I kunjer? " asked Mammy Nanny, suspiciously. " You come to de wrong 'oman, de wrong 'oman, and you kin des turn right round and leab yuh; you kin leab yuh. I don't fool wid no such triflin' young gal lak you, wut can't never keep 'er mouth shut 'bout nut'n ; I don't fool wid gal lak you." 
" I won't tell nobody. I never tells nobody nothin'. And I '\\pay you," said Rosetta, craftily. 
"Kunjun work ginseyou ef you tell, work ginse you right straight," threatened the old hag. 
Rosetta offered to hold up her right hand and swear that she would never tell. She then seated herself uninvited on the grass near the fire, staring at the pan in which the dove's heart had been scorched and looking curiously at the cloth which covered the mortar. 
"Wud you want wid me? Wud you up to?" suddenly demanded Mammy Nanny. 
" I want you make him love me, love nobody but me," faltered Rosetta, with averted eyes. 
" Who dat? " asked the old woman, involuntarily glancing toward the covered mortar. " Who dat you want lub you? " 
" Cicero Cicero Witherspoon. I want you 
 
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make him quit dat ole fat Josephine and marry me." 
Mammy Nanny's black restless eyes were riveted on the trembling girl, as if they pierced to her soul. "Dat all you want? Dat all you want?" she demanded, 
"I w-want you put bad mouth on her Jose phine." 
"Wud she done to you? " "She she run out in de street t'other day and beat me. She pounced down on me and beat me. i) "An' Cis'ro he was dere, eh? " " He was jes 1 walkin' de street wid me." Mammy Nanny reflected. " Come nex' week," she said at last. " Fotch me a chicken an' two dollahs an' I '11 git it ready; I '11 gie you bofe wut you want. A chicken an' two dollahs, ricollec'." "Goodness me! two dollars?" exclaimed Rosetta with an outraged look. " You mus' think I own a bank. Two dollars shoo ! Whereupon the old woman flew into a violent rage and ordered the girl off the place. " Leave yuh ! " she shrieked, " an' don't you put yo' foot yuh agin; don't you put yo' foot yuh agin. An' if ever you tell anybody I '11 gie you de devil, you yeh me? I '11 gie you de very devil ! " Rosetta fled as if for her life, being thoroughly frightened by this outbreak. She almost made up her mind that her dark designs had better be 
 
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abandoned, but only for the time. By the follow ing day her fears were forgotten, and all her eager ness to carry out her plans returned. She begged her father to give her two dollars, but he refused; and then she went the round of her friends and attempted in vain to borrow the sum. Finally she determined to hire herself out and earn the money, and as she always did as she pleased, no objection was raised when she announced that she was going into service. She spent the greater part of a day going from house to house in Barcelona before she secured a situation. Many housewives wanted help, but they looked askance at Rosetta, disliking her appearance and manner of speech. During a whole morning, on mounting the steps of an ordi nary or pretentious house and ringing the bell, the girl invariably made known her errand by means 
of the following formula: " Does the woman want to hire a nurse-lady? " It is true enough that the girl of the Rosetta 
sort has no real desire or intention of doing her duty when in service, true that she accomplishes as little as possible, and that little carelessly and unfaithfully, desiring only the reward; but it is equally true that the attitude of the average white housewife toward her is not encouraging. She recognizes the Rosetta type at a glance and gives her no quarter before she has been tried; without examination, she considers her, individually, as dirty, heedless, selfish, and untrustworthy as she is 
 
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typically. The type of servant nearest to the selfeffacing slave is what she likes, forgetting that self-effacement and humble service, except where the employer is rich and pays high, are now laid away among the fossils of another age. 
Rosetta was not stupid, and it gradually dawned on her, from certain indications, that her formula was impolitic, and she reversed it, inquiring more meekly if the lady of the house wanted to hire a nurse-girl. After this she observed that her pro position received more consideration, and finally, at a house where sickness made the situation des perate, she was engaged. The girl disliked nurs ing heartily enough, but was determined to endure it until she obtained the desired sum of two dollars. She made little effort to please, however, and, but for her employer's extremity, would have been promptly discharged. Although not detected in it by those most nearly concerned, it was her common practice to handle the infant in her arms with rudeness until it cried itself to sleep; then, being free, she would steal away and spend an hour or so down town riding with Cicero on the merry-go-round or standing gossiping in the neigh borhood of that object of perennial attraction. 
At last she felt that she had stayed long enough to be entitled to an advance on her month's wages, asked for it and was not refused. She was always free to go home as soon as the baby was asleep, and on this evening departed early as usual, giving 
 
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no word of warning although fully determined not to return. Descending the back steps, she stole softly to the fowl-house, caught a hen by the feet and neck- all at once, thus forestalling an outcry, and escaped to the street with her prize. With two dollars in her pocket and a suffocating chicken under her shawl, she walked through Barcelona and into the Neck, lifted high with hope. To morrow she would again visit Mammy Nanny, carrying the required offerings, and would no doubt obtain the means of securing the two dearest wishes of her heart. 
She was not disappointed. The trick-doctor promptly furnished her with a teaspoonful of a gray powder wrapped in a fragment of an old newspaper, instructing her to give it to Cicero in a glass of water, after drinking a part of it herself. Rosetta examined this powder curiously, remem bering the mixture she had seen pounded in the copper mortar, one ingredient of which she knew to be the charred heart of a dove, and would have liked to ask questions, but dared not. However, there was nothing alarming in a mere powder, and she felt reasonably tranquil until Mammy Nanny presented her with a soiled pasteboard box about four inches square, and instructed her to place the contents on Josephine's doorstep before break of day on the following morning. The painful mis givings thereby awakened were rendered the more acute by the solemn injunction not upon any ac- 
 
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count to open the box before that hour or before she arrived at the place designated. What if a snake were in the box, and, when she opened it at that dark morning hour, what if the reptile should bite her and the curse thus fall upon her instead of her enemy! She earnestly begged that other conditions might be set, but Mammy Nanny was immovable and she was forced to submit. 
During the afternoon of the same day Rosetta successfully contrived to have Cicero join her in drinking the tasteless love-philter without exciting his suspicion, but she unfortunately overslept next morning, and when she reached Josephine's gate day was breaking. Nevertheless she unhesitat ingly opened the Pandora-box and emptied the evil contents upon the doorstep, afterwards making good her escape, as she believed, lifted high with hope that the charm would work in spite of the dawning light. 
However that might be, the dawning light was unquestionably disastrous in another sense, betray ing the personality of the evil-doer. A ten-year-old child of Josephine's happened to be up and out in time to see Rosetta's hurried retreat and recognize her face. Consequently by seven o'clock the Neck was in almost an uproar, Josephine going from house to house, with loud outcries, declaring that she was bewitched, that Rosetta had struck her the blow, and that she would have the culprit " up fo' de Mare," or die in the attempt. 
 
 VII. 
THE mayor's court was unusually well attended next morning, the court-room, in fact, being quite full. Three cases were to come before him, two of which excited wide interest. The blacks crowded in to see what would be done with Rosetta for "bad-mouthing" Josephine; the whites gathered to witness the arraignment of a young rowdy of their own race who had distinguished himself, while slightly under the influence of drink, by shooting at some half-dozen men on the principal street and failing to hit even one. A desire to witness the spectacle of an ignorant and incompetent mayor struggling with troublesome cases, exclu sive of the interest in the cases themselves, had attracted many. 
The great war upheaval which brought down the leading class in so many communities, and placed the bottom rail on top, as men said, was instrumental in bringing to the front such spirits as Adam Brown, the mayor. As a small tradesman and farmer, young in years, and not a slaveholder, 
7 
 
 he had taken no interest in the war, voluntarily sacrificing nothing; during the period of profound financial prostration succeeding that struggle he had managed to hold his own, and later had forged ahead, in a material sense, of the great majority who were utterly ruined. He was of the Malvern County native homespun, without education or training of any sort to fit him for public office, but his continued prosperity, and perhaps also his marriage with the widow of George Walton, the educated refugee, had given him standing; and by posing as the friend of the uneducated white man and the negro, the vote of which latter he did not scruple to buy, he had beaten the opposing forces which represented the intelligence of the com munity. 
This successful "man of the people" was now about fifty, iron-gray, determined, hard-fisted, but really not hard-looking; as long as he did not open his mouth he might pass for a respectable representative of a country town. The most hope less ignorance is that which is self-satisfied, Adam Brown was the laughing-stock of Barcelona and did not know it. He knew nothing of the forms of procedure in a mayor's court, apparently con sidering it unnecessary that he should learn; and yet he was a sharp, shrewd man, by no means lacking in what he termed mother wit. On the present occasion he opened the examination of the cases brought before him by swearing the prisoners 
 
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as well as the witnesses, whereat the veriest tyro of a law student was able to smile broadly. 
The first case was that of four tramps who had been surprised by the local police in a vacant house in the suburbs, arrested and locked up. There was absolutely nothing in the house for them to steal, and the fact that they had built a fire and were toasting the bread begged about town was prima facie evidence that they had gone there merely to enjoy their supper together and spend the night. But a note-book had been found on one 
o 
of them, who was evidently of a literary turn, in which there were reflections upon the sights seen along the course of his travels, and here and there a brief quotation from the original of Victor Hugo's poems. This note-book had been carefully ex amined before the opening of court, and the foreign lingo promptly excited grave suspicion. What if it were a cipher containing a plot to rob the Barce lona banks ! And so, after swearing each of the four tramps, his honor eyed them very sternly and demanded to be told their several histories. 
" Gentlemen," said he, solemnly, " I expect you to tell me the truth." 
The tramping " gentlemen" very readily con fessed that their starting-point had been Xew York and that they were bound for Florida, that ill-health compelled them to winter in a warmer clime, and as they could not afford to ride, they had walked; but when their more intimate concerns were in- 
 
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quired into, when they were taxed with the guilt of laziness and were solemnly asked why they did not go to work and behave like ff gentlemen," two of them said nothing and the other two laughed. Finally, when the owner of the note-book was en joined to confess the intention of the dark and mysterious sayings contained therein, and the man endeavored to explain that he had merely quoted from his favorite author, there were evidences of suppressed laughter in various parts of the court room. The mayor was not satisfied and again ex amined the dark sayings, but they were as puzzling as ever; and at length he sent the book to Robert Morton who was in the hall, with the request that he would examine it. Two minutes later the note book was returned with the message that there was nothing therein to implicate the prisoners. After this his honor was if possible more perplexed than before, not knowing what to do with the accused but unconvicted tramps. 
"What would you do with 'em?" he asked in a low voice of a lawyer seated near him. 
" You might order them out of town." " Gentlemen," said Adam Brown, promptly dis missing the case, " I give you twenty minutes to leave this town." Whereupon the four "gentle men " rose and tramped out of the court-room, broadly smiling. The shooting case was less embarrassing, but still the mayor was troubled. The young law- 
 
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breaker belonged to that class of whites who were his own political and personal friends, and he feared that the imposition of a proper penalty would estrange the father and other relatives of the pris oner; on the other hand he knew that great in dignation was expressed by the more intelligent element, who demanded that the offender be pun ished to the full extent of the law. His honor had finally concluded to please the latter by talk and the former by act. Assuming a sad and stern ex pression of countenance, he addressed the prisoner for fifteen minutes on the subject of his shortcom ings in general and his recent crime in particular. His father was a good man, his grandfather was a good man, the mayor declared that he knew the whole connection, but he, the prisoner, alas, had developed into a rowdy of the worst type ! It was * sad, it was outrageous; this wicked young man would surely bring down his father's gray hairs in sorrow to the grave. Think of it! Nobody's life was safe if such crimes were allowed to go unpunished. 
" If you had n' 'a been too drunk to shoot straight, you might 'a killed six men," concluded the mayor, solemnly. " For this most hy-e-nous crime, Gus Mitchell, I therefore fine you twenty dollars! " 
The descent of a thunderbolt into the midst of the court-room would scarcely have occasioned a more complete surprise. Some of the spectators 
 
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laughed outright; others swore angrily beneath their breath, and there was heard during several minutes the sound of low excited comment. 
The quarrel of Josephine and Rosetta was next inquired into. The former was first questioned and stated her complaint, indulging unchecked in a wholesale attack on the latter's general character, independently of the present offence. Meanwhile the comely Rosetta looked daggers and threatened to interrupt this tirade. The mayor listened till he wearied of it, then bade the plaintiff sit down, and turned to the defendant. 
"What is your name?" he asked, with the first semblance of formality as yet shown. 
" Rosetta." 4 'Rosetta what?" " Rosetta Hightower." Being now allowed to speak, the girl solemnly denied the charge and returned Josephine's personal attack with superior violence, detailing the history of the assault made upon her in the street with pictur esque additions to and extravagant exaggerations of the facts. Neither the accuser nor the accused dared mention the name of Mammy Nanny, and so the old sorceress herself had not been sub poenaed to appear in court. "Don't you b'lieve dat nigger," cried Josephine, tearfully. " She gone and put bad mouth on me des like I tell you." " Well, how did she do it, then? " 
 
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A male friend of Josephine's (Cicero was not to be found) then reluctantly undid a package wrapped in a newspaper and the dreaded " kunjer" found on the doorstep was exhibited in court. The mayor ordered it to be placed on the table before him and examined it with some curiosity, but with signs of growing impatience. 
"'T ain't nothin' but a lot of foolishness," he promptly exclaimed, and seemed to wonder that Josephine still gazed upon it with evidences of the liveliest terror. 
The evil charm consisted of a large live toad with a strip of red flannel about twenty inches long securely fastened to its right hind foot, the other end of the flannel being attached to a small pine splinter. Knots were tied at intervals along the red strip, and here and there were fastened short pieces of white sewing-thread. Attached to the centre of the string was a small red-flannel bundle, in which were found several roots and sewingneedles. 
" Look h-yer, Josephine, ain't you got no better sense than to think this pile o' trash can hurt you? " asked the mayor, contemptuously. 
Poor Josephine shook her head sadly and wiped her overflowing eyes. " I feel it in my bones a'ready," she said, with solemn conviction. 
The practice of or belief in witchcraft appears to be widespread among the blacks in the South. The negroes of the Virginia tobacco-farms, the 
 
 104 
 
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rice plantations of Carolina and Georgia, the sugarcane plantations of Louisiana, -and elsewhere, have been found to have as firm a belief in the black art as the naked savages of the pathless African bush. Among them, therefore, the adept in the art, the wholly or semi-professional trick-doctor or con jurer, is a person of great importance and an abject of dread mingled with something of venera tion. The chief business of the adept, whether man or woman, is the casting of spells upon speci fied victims, or, on the other hand, the bringing to hear of counteracting influences against an evil charm already active from some other agency. At one time he is sought by negroes who believe themselves to have been bewitched by a rival pro fessional, and again by such as may desire a spell to be cast upon those who have aroused their hatred. In the latter case the adept usually operates by causing a small bundle of apparently trivial articles to be placed either inside or near the house of the victim, who promptly recognizes the medium of the art, the material used varying little, and is at once the prey of great fear and distress of mind. 
Once convinced that he has been bewitched, the negro sinks into the deepest despondency, and, unless persuaded that the baleful influence has been removed, his health declines steadily. The trick-doctor is thus a medium through which per sonal enemies strike secretly at each other, and 
 
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his presence in a community necessarily tends to keep alive the recollection of injuries and stimu lates the desire for revenge. The manner of con veying the curse varies somewhat in different localities and at different times, but no "badmouth" bugbear is apt to be found without one or more of the following ingredients, bits of red flannel, pieces of brier-root, sewing-needles, toads either alive or dismembered, some portion of a snake, cotton thread, rusty nails, etc. Sometimes a rude human effigy covered with blood or pierced through the heart with a nail is used, suggesting the burning of clay or waxen images in the middle ages, which was supposed to cause the persons named to be "melted or dried away by continual sickness." 1 
Adam Brown was much perplexed and annoyed over the case, and finally dismissed it without either passing judgment or imposing a penalty. The evidence against Rosetta depended wholly on Josephine's ten-year-old, which couid not therefore be taken as conclusive; and even had she been convicted, the mayor failed to see what punish ment could be rightfully inflicted on a young woman for merely throwing a " lot of trash" on a neighbor's doorstep. Sorcery was a thing of past 
i Compare with the ingredients of the " hell-broth " stewed in a caldron by the three witches in Macbeth, and note the striking similarities, as the live toad, the adder's fork, lizard's leg, fillet of a fenny snake, etc. 
 
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ages, and the law did not recognize it, so far as the mayor could learn. 
" Take this trash and throw it out of the win dow," he said to Josephine's friend, in great dis gust. "And," he continued severely, ''you two women can go, and don't you persume to come before me again with any more such foolishness. If you know what 's good for you, you '11 keep the peace after this. If I hear of you fightin' in the street again, I '11 have you both put on the chaingang." And, having duly impressed them with his determinacion to make good this fearful threat in case of a second offence, he announced that his court was adjourned. 
" Look at him," said Morton, with a smile, as the mayor strode pompously out of the court-room. " He looks as if he imagined that he had won the applause of mankind. He J ll be running for the legislature next. Then he '11 want to go to Congress." 
" What an exhibition of incompetence," said Colonel Sanford, in rejoinder to Morton. " Those very tramps were able to laugh at our mayor. Well, it is only another object lesson in the evils resulting from the disorderly association of two races in one State. If the negro and his bought vote were out of the way, it would be impossible for such a man as Adam Brown to ride into power. Of course he would have a following among his like, but he could not defy the banded intelligence cf this or any other community." 
 
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Had Adam Brown overheard them he would doubtless have chuckled and repeated his favorite aphorism to the effect that now-a-days the bottom rail was on top. If questioned on the subject, he would have remarked in homely language that society in Barcelona was divided between those who had seen better days and those who had not. He " thanked his stars " that he belonged to the latter class, that his best days were now; and he would not have exchanged present prosperity for any amount of superior intelligence linked with by gone success. 
Rosetta walked triumphantly away, but the sadfaced Josephine lingered in the court-house square and received the condolences of a number of friends, the female portion of which were less ab sorbed even in sucking the snuff-sticks always in their mouths than in discussing the merits of this in teresting case. The majority advised her not to give herself any further uneasiness, arguing that the discovery of her enemy and her prompt outcry and resistance of the evil, if not her appeal to the civil authorities, ought to break the spell. Some thought that the failure to deposit the charm at the door before break of day was in itself sufficient to break its force. The professor, indeed, went so far as to laugh at her fears, declaring that witch craft was a superstition of the past, and that all she had to fear was her own weakness in allowing herself to be disturbed. The parson, however, 
 
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Who was also present, reminded the professor that magical arts were mentioned in Holy Writ, and he thought it was still possible for men to league themselves with the devil. 
" The white folks don't b'lieve in it, they don't -b'lieve in nothin' hardly," he said, " but all our people b'lieves in it." 
However, the consensus of opinion was that she need have little or no fear, and Josephine was at length in a measure reassured. Rosetta would have been sorry to learn this, but now that her venom had been indulged, she cared little whether her victim suffered or not. All her hopes were now centred on the success, of the love-philter which already seemed assured, for since drinking it Cicero had devoted himself to her more assidu ously than ever before. 
Sam Thomas had attended the mayor's court and after its adjournment retired to his office. Josephine had seen him go, and now, leaving her friends, she followed him there. Entering his office, she took note of three empty beer bottles on the floor near the young lawyer's desk, and in the same moment, without consciously connecting the two facts, observed that he was growing rather stout. The young man had been bowed over his desk, pen in hand, laboriously copying and care fully imitating the characteristics of the letters in the words of a manuscript document which lay before him. The sound of the approaching step 
 
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caused him to start guiltily and hastily gather up the two sheets and crowd them into a drawer. 
"Well, Josephine, what can I do for you?" he then asked in a friendly tone, leaning back in his chair and putting his feet up on the corner of his desk. He did not invite her to sit down, and she stood throughout the interview. 
" What you gwine charge to git me a what you call it? a v-voce? " 
"A divorce, eh? So you are going to quit Cicero?" 
" Done quit him a'ready," said Josephine, with heavy dignity, " and I want to git a divoce 'cordin* to law. Some dem women in de Neck quit dey husbands right and left and take up wid new ones, and don't stop to study 'bout no divoce. But I ain't dat sort. I 'm like white folks, I want my divoce 'cording to law." 
" That's right," applauded Thomas. " Well, I reckon you won't have any trouble. You can plead desertion, from what I hear." 
" I kin dat. But what you charge ? " " I won't charge but fifteen dollars." " Fifteen dollahs! " cried Josephine, with expand ing eyes. " How in de name o' goodness I gwine pay you fifteen dollahs, man ? You mus' think I made out o' money. Shoo! " " Great Scott! you don't meant to say that ain't cheap?" retorted the lawyer. " I ought to charge fifty." 
 
 THE SOMS OF HAit. 
ie looked undone. She had never had fifteen dollars in her pocket at one time in her life, 
the divorce was therefore impossible. The of gradual payment in smaller sums did not seem to occur to her. She made a movement toward the door, remarking with an air of great discouragement, " I'll go see dem t'other lawyers aad see ef I can't git it done cheaper." "Hold on," cried Thomas, "Maybe we can make a trade. I saw you com in' out of a certain house the other day," he continued, as she halted turned back. "Do you go there often, to Lawrence's?" "Dat I does! Me and Miss Reba mighty good friends," cried Josephine, eagerly, hope kindling in her breast She saw a light; she almost antici pated the " trade." " I gits work for Miss Reba,1' she continued, '* and I haf to go dere 'most eve'y two three days." " You get what for Miss Reba ? " "I I goes dere to do jobs for her," she stam mered, recollecting that the sewing was to be a secret as far as possible. " Miss Reba," she hurrfed on, " is de niccs', puttyes' young white lady in 
isv eh? " rejoiaed the yoonglawyer, looking as if he admired his client's taste. " Well, Josephine, what I want is for you to speak a good word for me to Bliss Reba, and if you '11 do that, and do it up brown, I '11 tell you what /'// do. I '11 get your divorce through for nothing. You understand? " 
 
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** Will yoa, Mr. Thomas, sho' nuf? " cried Jose phine, overjoyed. " Yes-sir-ee, I '11 speak a good word for you eve'y time I go dere. You kin 'pend on me. I 'm good at dat" 
u But you '11 have to be mighty careful and not overdo it," he cautioned her; " and besides, here *s the point, it will do no good for you to speak a good word for me unless you speak a bad word for another fellow, who is, I 'm afraid, ahead of me there. See?" 
Ah! it was not so easy, then. Josephine's face fell; what if she got herself into trouble? " Who dat other one?" she asked. 
" Bob Morton." The woman now looked more troubled than ever. She had once done Morton's washing when her friend, Maum Katie, was ill, and she had pro nounced him in thought " a mighty nice man.** "What I gwine tell Miss Reba 'bout him?" she asked, stubbornly. " I ain't never h-yeared nothin' bad about him.1* " Well, I don't say there is anything 'specially bad about him," replied Thomas, craftily. " He 's smart and he's considered a pretty good sort of a fellow, but he used to be a wild boy and he drinks yet. Only the other night a friend of his had to carry him home. You can tell her that, can't you? Young ladies are usually afraid of men who drink." Josephine's glance fell upon the empty beer 
 
 THE SONS OF HAM. 
bottles as she rejoined, " I never yeared dat 'bout fcirn befo'." 
^ You don't hear everything." " Well, Mr. Thomas, if you ses so, of co'se hit's so." Josephine was coming back to her own con cerns, and the question of saving fifteen dollars represented itself. ""Ill tell her," she finally agreed, " and I '11 do my bes' for you." " You must n't tell her that I told you, remem'ber. You must be very careful." " I '11 tell her dat what I year folks say." " Don't waste any time about it, either," he called after her as she was going. " I '11 draw up your papers right away, and if I find you 've kept your part of the trade, you won't have to pay me a cent, understand." After reiterating her promise* Josephine de parted, leaving the young lawyer chuckling over his " trade." " All is fair in love and war," he re marked gayly* as he got up and walked about the room, bestowing hopeful glances upon the portraits of the four "big" men which adorned the walls. "Well, if dat ain't mean ! " said Josephine aloud, as she went down the stairs, referring wholly to the lawyer's part in the agreement She failed to ^characterize her own part. As said before, Jose phine was of an easy conscience. 
 
 VIII. 
ADAM BROWN lived in one of the more preten tious houses of Barcelona, which, although central, was suburban in its surroundings of trees, shrubs, and flowers, not to mention the sugar-cane patch in the rear. One afternoon, two or three weeks after the holding of his court which has been mentioned, the mayor came home early in order to overlook the planting of fall-turnips in his vegetable garden. Having spent an hour there, he cut a stalk of cane and returned to the house, peeling and chewing it as he crossed the newly swept back-yard and dropping both peelings and pith at almost every step. On the front piazza he found Reba Lawrence with his wife and step daughter, the subject of their conversation being Miss Black, who had just passed on horseback without a companion or attendant. Whenever she could spare a few hours from her work, the latter was known to hire a horse and take long rides on the country roads in the pursuit of health; those now commenting could well understand that 
8 
 
 THM SONS OF HAH. 
she needed the exercise and the fresh air, but Mrs. Brawn thought it unsafe, aod the two girls agreed. 
"Too many triflin* darkies hangin' around everyr where now-a-days,", the former was saying, as her husband appeared. 
"Who 's that you talkin' about, Miss Francie "Black?" he asked, after saluting Reba. "Oh, 
she's all right Them Yankee women know how to take care of themselves." 
" Adam, don't throw them peelin's down there m the yard," exclaimed Mrs. Brown, in distress. **I jes* had it swept yesterday." She called one of her children from within and sent for a wastebasket. 
Owing to the way in which he had been brought op and had lived during the greater part of his Jife, the mayor was wholly indifferent to litter, and disorder in general, never seeming to see it Not so his wife; during her engagement to George ^falton, and after their marriage, she had tried &ard to make herself the equal of his sister, and bad in some ways succeeded. Where she had failed was in her efforts to educate herself, though even here she had made praiseworthy advanceAfter marrying Adam Brown, however, she had 
relapsed into the old slip-shod manner of furnishing a constant source of regret to her sister-in-law, her niece, and her own daughter, ^jFJIOHf educational opportunities had far surpassed ^erowi*. . 
 
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Us 
 
" I like to see 'em come them Yankees," con tinued the mayor, looking after the disappearing horsewoman. " Colonel Sanford says we can never count on thrifty fureign immigrants as long as the nigger is in the way, and we want all the Yankees we can get to help us develop this country. The trouble is they don't want to butt agia the nigger any more than the fureigner does. Mighty few of 'em come South." 
He generously offered each of the ladies a " round" of cane before seating himself within range of the waste-basket. His wife was knitting, and the two girls were looking through a magazine together; all declined the proffered sweet. 
" You ain't lookin' well, Reba," he remarked, kindly. " You stay home too close." 
The girl's face flushed under his keen glance and she answered quickly that she was quite well, wondering if he could detect the signs of slow starvation, although aware that she was less thin than a few weeks before. In proportion as her mother's appetite failed, Reba had eaten more and in some measure improved. 
" It's time both you girls was gittin' married," Adam Brown continued, with a twinkle of the eye. " Reba, I hope you ain't as hard to please as Betty. She won't have Jack Sanford, and she won't have Jim Jones. A man would have to be cut out and moulded in gold to suit Betty." 
'Do, papa!" 
 
 THE SONS OF HAJtf. 
" Jack is too much of a boy, I reckon, but you '11 .go a long ways before you'll find a better man than Jim." 
" You ought to see him dance! " said Betty, cruelly. 
" It always seems a pity," the mayor proceeded, smiling, " for a girl to fool along till she 's old and ; tlaid on the shelf. You girls ain't ugly enough to ^rrfbc old maids. How old are you, Reba? " f- "Now, Adam, that-ain't polite," exclaimed Mrs. Brown. " Young ladies ain't supposed to have no age." 
The girls laughed, and Reba, with a slightly aggrieved look, mentioned that she was only twenty, and was in no hurry to surrender her free dom. The man who could persuade her to give up hers, Betty declared, was yet to appear upon the scene. At this juncture the attention of all was attracted to a passing vehicle containing young Morton and Jones, who lifted their hats in honor of the group on the piazza. They were > evidently driving out of town on the same road taken by Miss Black. 
"That buggy-load reminds me of Bill Arp's lecture on the 'Cracker and the Cavalier/" said Betty. 
"You mean Jim's a cracker, eh? Well, we're all crackers when it comes to that, I reckon," said the mayor 
" Speak for yourself, please," requested Betty. "My father was not a cracker, and neither am I." 
 
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" Well, anyhow the bottom rail is on top now-adays. You can Jt git around that." 
" Mamma says," put in Reba, taking Betty's side, " that it may have more money, but it can never really be on top." 
" Does anybody mean to tell me that Jim Jones with all he 's got ain't as good as that po' stuck-up Bob Morton?" 
" He ain't stuck-up, Adam. I never heard that," ventured Mrs. Brown. " And they say he 's a fine young man, and smart, too." 
" He belongs to that po' stuck-up crowd any how, and he ain't got nothin'." 
" He 's a gentleman, and Jim Jones is n't," de clared Betty, with an air of certainty which stag gered the mayor in spite of his well-settl:d opinions. 
The expression of Reba's eyes showed feeling, but she gladly left the defence to her cousin. She told herself that it was not for Morton's sake that she felt indignant; the " stuck-up crowd" meant in a political sense the intelligence of the community, in a social sense the old families, and her mother and Betty's dead father were as much or more included in the mayor's denunciation than young Morton himself. Mrs. Brown came to the rescue, conscious that they were verging upon dangerous ground. She had not entirely forgot ten her first husband, and she believed in the old families, but she also believed in Adam Brown. Her policy was pacific always, and she hoped in 
 
 TffS SOJV5 OF HAM. 
thne to folly reconcile the two apparently hetero geneous elements existing m her own family. Her method now wa* to bestow a warning look upon Betty and begin to crowd her husband with ques, tions about gardening. So was he diverted, and the girls, kit to themselves, returned to their magazine. 
After Miss Black rode by, bowing to the ladies on the piazza, the same question which they began to discuss arose in her own mind, was it safe to take those lonely rides unattended? She was quick to answer and ride on into the country in a perfectly tranquil state of mind Yes, it was safe, 
reasonably so, at least. Miss Black was not timid, and the idling, rambling negroes whom she sometimes met on the country roads, having never molested her, failed to excite her apprehension. As for the white men, it seemed to her that, as a class, they were unusually respectful toward ail women. Only a few days since she had passed an excited crowd in Barcelona, the behavior of which excited her astonishment. Two men were in the midst of an angry and abusive dispute, and the crowd about them occupied the whole sidewalk, awaiting with intense interest the coming fight, which promised to be no trifle. As Miss Black passed before deciding to step into the street and cross to the opposite side, the whisper, " A lady! " suddenly west through the crowd, and instantly It parted and foiled back, a small portioa flattening 
 
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itseH" neatly against the wall, while the bulk precip itated itself into the street as from the volition of one man. The angry voices were hushed, and the way was clear \ the lady passed, the two sections of the crowd swayed together again, and the inter rupted wrangle was resumed. Men who treated her with such consideration at such a time could do her no harm at any other; so Miss Black reasoned. 
She had made rather a late start, and when about a mile and a half out of town it occurred to her that she ought to turn back. She did not, how ever, being unable to resist the temptation to pro long her ride. She revelled in the line October air, the delicious odor from the endless forests of pine, the autumn color of sky and leaf, for along $ie water courses the monotony of green pines Wias relieved by other growth. Pushing on, she de scended a slope which led downward through the dense woods bordering what is locally termed a branch. This, however, was more than a branch, being in reality a considerable creek, and was known as Black Swamp. 
As she rounded a bend and the stream came into view, Miss Black momentarily glimpsed the dark figures of two men somewhere between herself and the flowing water Occupied imme- . diatcly with the stumbling of her horse she did not observe these two figures as they darted into the bosh; and when she again looked up, the dc- 
 
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! THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
road caused her to wonder if she had seen in the first place, meanwhile continuing to advance without apprehension. "Jim's gone to law about some land, and he give the case to Bob Morton," the mayor had re marked, as the two young men drove past his bouse, and it was this business which was taking them into the country this afternoon. As they . drove on, they occasionally observed a horse woman far in advance of them, but the windings df the road for the most part screened her from tbeir view. The sand was too heavy for fast driv ing and before a great while they lost sight of her altogether. As they neared Black Swamp, how ever, they heard a faint and far cry which imme diately suggested the horsewoman. It was a cry of distress, and evidently a woman's. The two young men looked at each other as if to ask, " Did you bear that? " - " A lady! " said Morton, excitedly, as the cry , was beard again. He seized the whip and they dasbed down the slope at a break-neck speed. Perhaps it was five minutes later, perhaps more, when an old negro living on a small farm in the neighborhood of Black Swamp was made aware that something unusual had just taken place. He 
beard no pistol shots, for the two young men who bad driven down the slope in such desperate haste 
unarmed; but, as he was emerging from the woods of the swamp where he kept a par- 
 
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 121 
tridge trap, the sound of some one running through the brush behind him attracted his attention and caused him to halt He observed that the person who ran had set his face toward Barcelona, although it was clearly his intention to keep to the woods and avoid the road; he also observed that this person, whose face was black but too far away to be recog nized, literally tore through the woods, regardless of the low, overhanging branches which whipped him as he passed, and the lightwood-knots or fallen logs, unseen in the brush, which bruised his feet and barred his way. Clearly he was a fugitive and be lieved that his life depended on his speed. 
The old negro, commonly known in the neighborhoood as " Mingo " or " Uncle Mingo " (no one ever heard mention of his surname,' if indeed he had one) made these observations in silence, then pro ceeded on his way, soon arriving in the neighbor hood of the road. Here he halted and looked forth cautiously before exposing himself, the glimpse of a terrified fugitive having awakened vague fears for his own safety. . Surveying the lonely road, he saw that it was deserted at every point save onej about fifty yards distant, where stood an abandoned horse ' and buggy. Before he had time to speculate as to the whereabouts of the driver, a young white man ran out of the woods, and, having possessed himself of a piece of rope from the bottom of the vehicle, hastily returned the way he had come. 
Old Mingo then heard indistinct voices, and knew 
 
 TffSSOJfS OP HAM. 
tiMt*cm0us event bad occurred, but did not from his place. After waking but a very he saw the same man reappear, accomr, the two bearing a heavy burden them What this burden was he did not at discern, bat, as they lifted it and placed it 
4Mfee floor of the buggy, he saw that it was a man, * aegto, apparently senseless and bound hand and foot with ropes. One of the men sprang immedi- 
'. fate the vehicle, gathered up the reins, and off slowiy, the other man following a short on foot in order to give a few parting in 
structions, as it seemed. ** I *m glad it will soon be dark," he was saying, 
a* they drew near. *' You can get to the jail withoet atttad&ag a crowd. Just get Dave Hardy to lock him up, Jim, and don't say a word to a soul. We most keep it quiet for her sake." 
They were now very near, and old Mingo, ere he drew back among the bushes, look note that the 
Ofi the floor of the buggy had begun to and groan. "The black devil's comin' to," remarked the 
' He's bteedin'like a hog. You tick with that iight'ood knot" I iwart to kill him*" said the other, with eyes I saw him trying'to pull her off her after I knocked him senseless I had enough of it-" >1 tati yw what, tbe had spunk.1' declared the 
 
 THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
1*3 
 
man hi the buggy. " The way she spurt-eel that horse and made him jump \ >f 
At this juncture the man afoot halted and tamed back. " Now I must see that she get* home," he said, reflectively. " Jim, I suppose I 'd better go all the way with her don't you think so? She might faint again, you know," he added, ifl a troubled, perplexed way. 
The other called out " Yes," adding in a lower voice as he drove on, " I 'm glad the job don't fall to me," And so they separated. 
About five minutes later, having meanwhile has tened to plant his feet upon his own domain- which was not far away, old Mingo, who now more than vaguely comprehended what had occurred, saw a white woman pass on horseback along the toad to Barcelona accompanied by a man afoot 
Meanwhile the fleet-footed fugitive made good his escape, having taken the alarm and bounded away before his presence was even suspected by the rescuers. Luckily for him the unbroken woods continued to the outskirts of the town, and he was thus able to run at his best pace and attract no attention. Making a wide devour, he entered Bar 
celona by another, far distant road,, and hastened to compose his features, cease his quick breaths, and show himself conspicuously on the priaeifMd street as well as in the restaurants and other haunts of the blacks, thus making his alibi secure, Lo*g be&te Jim Josea drove into town with his prisoner 
 
***:.=/ 
 
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O^T 
 
 THE SONS OF HAM. 
all this had been accomplished, and the fugitive was on the lookout for his arrival, idling carelessly at a corner and covertly scanning every vehicle on tii street which came in from the Black Swamp road. When at last the one he watched for ap peared and quietly turned toward the jail, he boldly stepped forward and inquired if Mr. Jones wanted any more cotton pickers on his place. 
"Who's that, Mamie-Lou John?" was the re sponse, without-drawing rein. "I thought you was too stuck-up to pick cotton. You can see me 'boot it to-morrow." The vehicle was then driven rapidly on, and the crafty fugitive turned away well satisfied with his chances of escaping the halter. 
it was quite dark and a whippoorwill was calling cheerfully in a neighboring dell when the horse woman and her attendant halted where two ways 
on the outskirts of the town. Littte had between them by the way, and that little in no way to what had occurred. Never 
-x>ace did he look directly at her, and, aware of this, sfc* by and by looked at him freely and often, too 
, she told herself afterward. His tall, sinewy his thin, sallow face and firm jaw, his eyes of ire, above all, the atmosphere about him of true manliness and of genuine and simple devotion to the woman in his care, combined to form a picture Would perhaps haunt her memory with a 
s persistence. tern off here/' he said, halting, conscious 
 
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that they would attract attention if they thus en tered the town. "I think you are all right now and can go on alone." 
She assented, then leaned forward and put out her hand to him in the darkness. As he took it and they said good-night, she was quickly con scious that his hand was very cold. " Mr. Morton," she began abruptly, in a very low voice, " a second time I owe to your to you everything " She seemed unable to proceed. 
" I must hurry," he hastened to say, with an embarrassed manner. " I am" going to have a chill." 
" I am so sorry," she murmured, still halting. He moved on then with another " good-night," and thus they separated. 
This, however, was no subterfuge on his part, al though he distinctly aimed to cut short her labored and difficult words of gratitude. Had they remained in each other's company five minutes longer she would have heard his teeth chatter. It was not his fated day for a chill, but he had got his feet wet and the cool night air did the rest. It had been his intention to stop at the jail and reiterate his wish that "the thing" be kept quiet,but, bent over and shivering as he was, he found it necessary to go directly home and put himself to bed. 
As late as half-past eleven o'clock that evening a light still burned in Robert Morton's room. The chill had left him two hours since, and his mother 
 
 aoved die henry pile of blankets beneath be lay quaking so long, bidding him good- 
ttight and expecting him soon,to be asleep. But to was still awake at halfpast eleven, when a light ippag on one of his wiadows opening on the Jieai piazza attracted his attention. 
"Who's that?" he called. "Jan Jones." "Pfrsh tip the sash and come in," Morton di rected from the bed, and a moment later one of 
long legs was thrust over the low window"Put die sash all the way down; I'm all in a sweat," Morton added. **This Is a funny time o' night for me. to be dMBinY' apologized Jones, crossing to the bed and seating himself; " but I thought I 'd stop and tell you Mahout it" ** I *m giad to see you," 
41 When I come back to town with the boys jes' I saw yo* light and I thought you was still Dick Marshall said the light was in your 
room, and so I stopped."  ffrti, what have you to tell me? " 
Wcfi, 1 told Dave Hardy jcs' what yon told me wfcea f tamed the nigger over to him, and he said, 'Att tight.' lie give out the report that the nigger was caught cobbm' ft irhite lady oa the big road; but after sapper I west around and told a few of ti* bojri jcs' hew it was, but that you and me had dtcfetel to kep the name of the lady back, and I 
 
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'em who she was. Them hoys was every one of 'em, especially after I 
told 'em it was Cicero Witherspoon, and they lowed they 'd lynch him or raise hell. They jes' reared. I 'd had enough of it a'ready, but nothia* would do but I must go with 'em aod show 'em the place. So about a dozen of us went down to the jail with out raisin* no row, and told Dave Hardy he mought jes' as well hush up his talk to begin with, for it wan't no use. He didn 't care nohow, he was in with us from the start; but of course he made a stand jes' for show tell the boys drawd their pistols on him, and then he give the nigger right up. Well, we took-him out in a spring wagon and the boys swung him up over the very spot. Sam Thomas and most of 'em took a.pop at him before he stopped kickin', but I could n't. Look like to me hangin' was enough. The boys held a torch and Sam wrote a notice in a disguised hand and pinned it on the nigger's coat. He begged pitiful. It was hard to stand. And, look-a-h-yer, Bob, that Cicero, after he confessed it all, had the face to swear that Mamie-Lou John was with him and got off in the bushes just in time for me and you not to see him. Of course I told him he was a brazen liar, and " 
"But how do we know?" interrupted Morton, musingly. " It may be true. It seemed rather strange to me that . he should have made the attempt alone, she being on horseback." 
" But I saw Mamie-Lou John myself jes' as I 
 
 tried to hire to tne to pick i of tfce boys said they Colonel Sanford wiU rear when he it to-morrow," said Jones, at the conhis brief outline of die dark tragedy, ^rejoined Morion, gloomily, " and I tell only way to check it" 
f;'- --,-..'-?_..--- 
m^ :- <: 
.'-" -. ;.'. 
 
 IX. 
COLONEL SANFORD did not " rear," as was pre dicted, but expressed himself freely and in forcible language as he stood in conversation with his neighbors on the street the next day. He charac terized lynch-law as a relic of barbarous times, and deplored its brutalizing influence upon the youth of his community and country. He said that lynchers were no doubt actuated by a desire to see justice meted out to criminals, but at the same time they were largely dominated by race hatred and, in the case of young men especially, by a love of wild excitement which some would miscall " fun," flocking to the scene of a lynching in the sway of similar emotions to those experi enced by the spectators of an ancient gladiatorial contest or a modern buMght. He declared that lynch-law could be called justifiable only where the courts were notoriously weak and corrupt, refusing to visit a just punishment upon the guilty, and such a condition of things was happily rare at the present day. The white race had everywhen t 
 
 SOJVS OF HAM. 
the tipper hand, and there was no possible escape for a negro criminal justly convicted. Would any body contend that Cicero Witherspoon could.have escaped punishment had he been allowed to stand his trial for robbery ? He would have escaped the halter, indeed, but would have been punished to the full extent of the law. 
However, when a better-informed bystander asserted that robbery was the mere incidental of the blackest of crimes happily prevented the Colonel's argument halted. The better class of Southern men condemn the lynching of the blacks in the case of all crimes but one. Although the name of the rescued was determinedly withheld, the real nature of the attempted crime became generally known in the course of the morning, not, however, before a flaming account of the affair as first reported was sent over the wires to the news papers. 
There is a class of people everywhere who dis cover an unaccountable pleasure in looking at dead bodies, whether calmly at rest in the course of nature, mangled through terrifying accident, slain in battle, or hanged on the gallows. From an early hour of the morning until night the peo ple of this kind, both white and black, might have been seen going and returning on the road to Black Swamp. Even some of the most respectable could not rest satisfied until they had imprinted die hideous picture on their memories, ostensibly 
 
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going out to drive, but failing not to halt at Black Swamp and look long upon the lifeless thing which hung there, with the solemn warning pinned across its breast : " This is the way we protect our wives and daughters." 
Josephine received the news at first with incredu lity, and then with tears and loud lamentations. Although she had cast Cicero off utterly and re garded him as nothing to her henceforth, although her early affection for him had withered and died out completely, her love seemed now to come to life and flourish again, now that he was dead and gone forever. His crime did not engage her reflections; in the tumult of her grief she was conscious only that the father of her last children had been cruelly put to death. The Neck resounded with her cries, her distress increasing as she recalled the recent attempt to " bad-mouth " or bewitch her, and recog nized the present calamity as a most probable result of the evil charm. 
Later in the day she went into town and walked through the streets with streaming eyes, calling upon the mayor in his office. She did not beseech or demand the arrest of the lynchers, would scarcely have done so, in fact, if their names had been known; she merely asked permission to take down and bury her dead, proposing to go out to Black Swamp with a few of her friends in a wagon. Adam Brown was greatly perplexed by this re quest. He was well aware that the authorities 
 
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THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
could not act in the matter, they being on the side . of law and order, unless they should act against the 
lynchers; but that they did not intend to do, and therefore they were supposed to know nothing of what had occurred. 
" H-yer you come a-botherin' me again," he complained, greatly annoyed; but a happy thought struck him and his face cleared. " I ain't got nothin* to do with it," he declared. " It's outside o' town, outside o' the corporate limits, and out side o' my jurisdiction. It's the sheriffs business, the Malvern County sheriff, and the curoner's. They tell me the curoner left town soon this mornin* before he heard of it. It's his business to take the body down and hold a inquest. I ain't the one to see; go see the sheriff. But if I was you, Josephine, I 'd let the body stay there tell to morrow, anyhow. Feelin' runs mighty high, and somebody ' might stop you. People want it to hang there all day as a warnin', you know." 
The mayor spoke kindly enough, but Josephine saw at once that he could not be persuaded to act, and so she withdrew, wiping her swollen eyes. She at once sought the sheriff, and being unable to find him, returned home, her- grief in a measure as suaged by certain thoughts which crowded upon her. She was now free to marry another and better husband, one, in fact, already selected; and her distasteful bargain with Sam Thomas, which indeed _ saved to her die fifteens-dollar divorce fee, but was 
 
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133 
 
likely to get her into trouble, could be repudiated forthwith. Josephine was comforted also by the reflection that the complete and public disruption of all relations with Cicero had occurred several weeks since, and that her neighbors would not necessarily expect her now to assert herself as his wife. In reality she cared for him no longer, and was only moved by compassion and the recollec tion of earlier days. 
Very different was Rosetta's state of mind. Her love for Cicero was the uppermost passion of her nature, and in order to win him for herself alone she had already gone far beyond the utmost which a more timid character would have dared. The news of his fate overwhelmed her with a grief which was rendered the more bitter by remorse, by the fear that the misfortune which she had at tempted to bring upon Josephine had fallen upon Cicero, thus indirectly upon herself. After the first paroxysm she did not shed tears and loudly lament after the fashion of Josephine, but wandered about the streets with dry eyes, compressed lips, and an absent manner. She stood and listened to what each talker had to say on the steps of the restaurants, in the alleys, or other haunts of the blacks, the fearful murmurs of the old women, the wild threats of the young men, the moderation of their elders, but said nothing herself, only heark ening and looking from side to side with the man ner of one struck dumb. 
 
 134 
 
THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
She knew of Josephine's intention to go out and take the body down, and not until after nightfall did she learn that the former's plan had not been carried out. Not till then was Rosetta aroused from her waking-trance. She swore that the body should be taken down that night, and immediately set about accomplishing the task; she made propo sitions to one man after another among her ac quaintances, trying first persuasion and then offering payment far beyond her means to such as would agree to go out with her to Black Swamp in a wagon. But not one of them could be induced to go, their disrelish for the undertaking arising not so much from the fear of hindrance and possible bodily harm as a superstitious dread of encounter ing the dead body in the dark. While soliciting the aid of these several persons, Rosetta was con tinually on the lookout for Mamie-Lou John, who was Cicero's friend as well as her own, and who might therefore muster up courage to render the assistance which she so much desired. 
It was as late as nine o'clock when she sought him at the house of Parson Smith, in the Neck, Whither she had been directed. There, in conver sation with the schoolmaster and the parson, she found him, distinguished by scarcely the air of one equally guilty and narrowly escaping the fate of Cicero. They sat before an open fire which was the only light in the room. As the evening was only slightly cool, the door stood wide, and Rosetta 
 
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135 
 
opened the gate, walked forward, and looked in, without being observed. After a few moments of hesitation she sat down on the steps and waited quietly. She was afraid of the parson and of the schoolmaster; besides, she was weary, and it might be that Mamie-Lou would get up and come out presently. 
" I '11 pay 'em for hangin' Cicero yit," the man she sought was saying, angrily. " You jes1 wait tell I git a good chance jes' watch me ! " 
" Oh, shet up that," said the portly parson, in reproof. "You better behave yourse'f ef you know what good for you. You better take warnin' by Cicero and go to work. Hangin' round doin* nothin' what got him into trouble. Idleness is the devil's workshop, you see it so." 
" Ef I could clerk in a sto'/' said the young out law, slightly impressed, " I would go to work, but I ain't goin' to plough nor pick cotton for nobody." 
" That's where the trouble comes in," remarked the schoolmaster, who unmistakably had the most intelligent face of the three. " Soon's ever our young men git a little education they think'manual labor is too low-down for 'em, and there ain't nothin' else hardly for 'em to do. Some few of us kin be teachers and some few kin be preachers, among our own color, but the rest got to pick cotton, plough, or loaf. The white man owns nearly everything, all the stores and the mills and the farms, and he controls all the government offices, 
 
 .SCWS OF HAM, 
of course he ruther have white men to fill all the places and do all the work except ploughtn* and hoein' and sich as that. It's mighty hard for as, but we can't blame them, 'cause you know this is a white man's country. If it was a black man's we-all 'ud do the same thing. Co'se we would. They do it in Hayti. I was readin* only the other day about how black dukes and markerses and all sich big dogs ride over white men in the streets there jes' like they owned 'em.1 They ain't bound to recognize a white man's rights there, and they don't do it neither." 
"Whayis dat Hayti, 'Fesser Brice? Dat's the place for me!" exclaimed Mamie-Lou, with enthusiasm. 
" A white man don't count for nothin* in Liberia neither," continued the professor, ignoring the .interruption. "The two races nat'ally ain't got no use for one 'n other, that's what's the matter, 'race antipathy' Colonel Sanford calls it We show , it jes* as much as dey do when we git the upper hand. We was n't made to live together in one country nohow, and we can't do it and have peace. The only chance for our people to prosper is to colonize off to ourselves somewheres." 
" Don't you think we could git along all right the Northern white folks, Brother Brice?" 
asked the parson. 
1 He had read an extract from James Anthony Froude's > English in the West Indies." 
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 THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
137 
 
" I useter think so, but I don't no longer." 
" They sot us free, you know." " They sot us free and turned us loose, a lot o' miser'ble paupers. They forgot the forty acres and a mule they promised us. They bit off mo 'n they could chaw, as the feller says, and they dropped us. But I ain't a complainin'; I '11 always be mighty thankful to 'em for settin' us free, though if I read hist'ry right that was a sort o' accident. Lots and cords of 'em wanted to see us free, no doubt about that; but what they was fightin' was secession, and their government de clared us free jes* to weaken the enemy, looks like to me. Of co'se the Southern folks did n't want us free 'cause they had all their money in us near 'bout, and they was afraid to see their country divided with a free people of a different race. And they was right to be 'fraid, too, and now they" got the bag to hold, while the Northern people is way off yonder and don't suffer. Me and Colonel Sanford has stood on the street and talked it over heap o' times, and we agree that two races in one country is bad for both." " But de Northern folks don't despise us like de Southern folks, do they ? " asked the parson, not quite convinced. " I useter think they did n't," was the answer, with a smile, " but I 'm fmdin' out better all the time. The Northerners don't have half the aggra vation. Down h-yuh nearly half the population 
 
 THE SONS OF HAM. 
is black; but up there the colored people is mighty few and scatterin1 ; and yit them few know mighty well what race prejudice is. I tell you, the color line is everywhere. That's what ' The Freeman' says, the paper I take; you seen it, Brother Smith. Only a little while back I read about how the white people in Felicity, Ohio, kept colored children out of the schools by force, beat their parents and destroyed their property in some cases. They defied the law and was not punished. They did the same thing in Oxford, Ohio. Seventy-five leading citizens banded together, not to protect themselves against the vote and rule of the negro, but to prevent his children from gettin' a educa tion. There was almost a riot in Marion, 111., because a tobacco house imported some colored men to work in their factory. I Ve heard of some such outrage in almost every Northern State. Colonel Sanford showed nle a piece in the ' New York Herald' that said that the prejudice was stronger in the North than in the South, and yit they don't have one-tenth the friction and aggrava tion up there. They can't have. That's what makes me stop and think. No-sir-ee! No use lookin' to the North. It's a case of white against black in this country, North or South." 
The parson sighed and Mamie-Lou John swore. " I wish we could have a waw of black against white," the latter declared, fiercely. " We 'd be the under dog in the fight shore 's 
 
 THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
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you born, and we 'd be fools to try it," declared the schoolmaster in rejoinder. " We ain't got organization nor nothin' yet. We can't have our rights tell we git stronger." 
" They tell me we increase faster 'n the white folks/' remarked the preacher, more hopefully. " It's so, too; I kin see it right yuh in Barcelona." 
" Yes, that's so," assented the professor, " but my hopes is in colonization. We can't cope with the white man; that's the way it looks to me. We '11 have to go away to ourselves. I propose we discuss the Liberia question at the first meetin' of our debatin' society." 
Rosetta had begun to lose patience long ere this. She now rose, walked to the gate, placed herself outside of it, and called Mamie-Lou John's name loudly. In a few moments he - appeared at the door, and, recognizing her voice, came out to her. She told him why she was there, and urged him to accompany her, but he promptly refused. 
" I '11 git a wagon and go out dere wid you by daylight in de mornin'," he said, "but I can't go to-night. I f-yeared to go to-night, Rosy." 
" Do please come, go, Mamie-Lou," she im* 
plored, catching hold of him across the fence. " I '11 do anything for you ef you '11 go/' 
" I can't, I tell you. Great Scott! Cicero might come to and grab me. No-suh-ree ! " 
Rosetta saw that further persuasion would be useless, and after reproaching him bitterly, she 
 
 THE SONS OF HAM. 
away, leaving him to return to the discus&toa going- on within. The girl walked straight tfafoagh the town and out toward the Black Swamp toad, vowing to accomplish the task alone, although 9&e felt that her courage was failing steadily. It 
not the lonely walk, but the thought of the body that affrighted her. Her father having formerly lived on a small farm out of town, she had often walked a lonely country road at night alone, minding it little. Hie negro is a puzzling creature. In many respects he enjoys a livelier imagination than the white man; he cherishes a far more absolute belief in the existence of spirits, and the reality and nearness of the world which they inhabit Particularly at night does this spirit world seem to draw near and reveal to him its secrets. To his imagination ibe shadowy woodlands are full of the arisen dead. Should be walk a lonely way in the moonlight and see a rabbit run across his path, he thinks he should fet careful, that is a spirit Should he, in similar UlttMifldings, feel the touch of a warm breath on the back Of his neck, again he recognizes the pres ence of a spirit The soft murmur of the forest whe& the wind does not blow, is the whisper of spirits. Should he walk in* the neighborhood of a fwanip and see a floating light (the ignis fatuus, Called the Jack-o'-4antern), he thinks he should run }g$e as Cast as be can, for that is a spirit or demon M feot fro hell." Woe to him if he attempt an 
 
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investigation; a horseman once did so, and the terrible being turned upon him in wrath, con suming both him and his horse in its flames. And yet the average negro seems to experience less dread of unseen dangers on a lonely -night walk through the woods than the average white. 
Rosetta was not obliged to go alone, however, and none of these fancies engaged her imagination. On the outskirts of the town she encountered a young country darkey going home on a mule, recognized her opportunity, and seized it. The fact that he was in a semi-tipsy condition was made apparent through his loud soliloquies and occa sional exultant shouts. Rosetta promptly hailed this " country Jake," as she mentally styled him, and engaged him in conversation. 
" Come, go wid me out dis road a piece," she proposed to the astonished negro, as' soon as there had been some exchange of compliments. 
" Out dat road? Wut fur?" "I'll tell you bimeby. You come go wid me an* do wut I tell you, I '11 gie you a dollar," she promised recklessly, although she had not a cent at the present time. The " country Jake " was tipsy, he liked the sound of Rosetta's voice, he liked still more the promise of a fee, and so he allowed himself to be led dtit toward Black Swamp without knowing where he was going, or what he was to do. The girl walked in advance, refusing to answer his questions, 
 
 1*2 
 
THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
assuring herself that he followed. Occasionally he uttered his exultant shout after a prolonged solilo quy in celebration of his own greatness. He was a ** much of a man," he could throw anybody in QK whole county; in fact, he was the very cock of the walk; and as for astuteness, cunning, and superior mental qualifications in general, there was no one to equal him; he was a wonder. Best of all, he was n't " beholden to nobody." 
" Look yuh, ain't dis fur enough ? " he roused himself to demand several times; but Rosetta would give him no satisfaction, and if he showed any .sign of a disposition to turn back she promptly took measures to attract him forward. 
-And so they drew near the swamp. Hitherto the foil moon had lighted their path, but ere descending into the dense woods along the creek Rosetta felt rt necessary to strike a match and apply it to a stick of rich pine with which she had provided herself. Holding the torch aloft, she led Ihe way down the slope toward the water, with a 
ibling voice endeavoring to pacify her follower, who complained of their surroundings and threat ened to go no further. As they presently turned at right angles from the road and penetrated the woods a short distance, the torch-light all at once outlined a suspended object, which caused the mule to "shy violently, and its rider to utter a yell of terror as he was thrown headlong into the Jbftshes. At this moment an owl in a neighboring 
 
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tree uttered a harsh and dismal hoot, which so startled the already terrified Rosetta, so shocked her unstrung nerves, that her knees gave way beneath her and she collapsed to the earth, drop ping her torch, which rolled a few feet down an incline and was extinguished. 
About midnight a childless old negro who lived with his wife in a cabin of one room near the pub lic road about half a mile from Black Swamp on the Barcelona side, the same old man who had seen the insensible Cicero lifted into the white man's buggy and glimpsed the form of Mamie-Lou John as he fled through the woods, was aroused from sleep by a faint but protracted tapping on his door, and the sound of some one weakly calling his name. 
" Unker Mingo! oh, Unker Mingo ! " said the voice, a woman's faint voice. " Open de do' please open de do'! " 
" Don't you open dat do' tell you fine out who dere," cautioned his wife, as the old man rose, stirred the embers in the fireplace and threw on a stick of fat pine. 
The room was soon flooded with light, and going to the door, old Mingo demanded to know who sought admittance to his home at such an unheardof hour. But there was no answer save the .faint tapping and the Ibw cry which begged that the door be opened. He thought he recognized the voice. Besides, it was a woman's, and evidently a 
 
 m 
tHE SONS OF HAM. 
woman who was ill what; could he fear? So at last he unbolted and opened wide the door, lean ing forward to look out. 
The old man suddenly backed into the house with an ejaculation of fear, as the light from the fireplace outlined two prostrate figures on the low &eps, one that of a groaning woman, the other the stiffened form of a man with the fragment of a rope hanging from his neck. 
" Unker Mingo," implored the weary voice, a take him in; take him in, do, please, Unker Mingo. I can't tote him no furder. I can't tote him to town, Unker Mingo." 
" She talk like Rosetta Hightower," said the old man's wife, getting out of bed. ' Holding aloft a lighted torch, the astonished <ild couple stood in the doorway and examined the two prostrate figures, recognizing instantly :.the dead body of Cicero and the living form of i Rosetta. The wife of Mingo looked searchingly at ^the latter, and was not slow to comprehend that the Condition of the young woman lying helpless on her doorstep was such as to demand prompt attention. 
After a short consultation the two old people lifted the body between them and placed it tem porarily on the floor in a corner. Returning to tke doorway, intending to lift the young woman also and bear her in, they were amazed to see her suddenly rise to her feet, shrieking horrible oaths. 
A vehicle was passing rapidly on the road and 
 
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the sound of the laughing, happy voices of a young girl and a young man entered the cabin door. There was a ball in Barcelona that night, and one of the gay dancers was now being taken to her home in the country. It was this that roused Rosetta and filled her soul with bitterness and rage. She knew from the sound of their voices that they were white, and she stood up and cursed them with her last strength. They were white and therefore honored, their pathway sown with happi ness and light; she was black, dishonored, her pathway lost in darkness, and her soul weighed down with hopeless grief. The woman raged at the contrast and called down evil upon them. The burden of her curse was that hell might engulf them and all their race. 
The sound of the wheels and the merry voices coming no more out of the gloom to madden her, Rosetta's. strength gave way as suddenly as it had just now come to life. She fell in a heap on the steps and moved no more. They lifted her up, bore her in, placed her on their only bed, and then the bewildered old man and woman sat down before the fire and conversed in low, awed voices, while waiting for the dawn. 
The body was carried to the grave next day, but Rosetta did not follow it, nor was the unhappy young woman removed to her own home until after she had suffered the pangs of premature parturition. 
10 
 
 X. 
As he walked along a street in Barcelona two or three weeks later, going to his office, Robert Morton paused to listen to Colonel Sanford and a prominent planter, who stood in animated conver sation, the centre of an interested gathering of some eight or ten persons. The young man was in a troubled state of mind and had decided to appeal to his elderly friend for advice. It was this that caused him to halt, rather than any great in terest in the subject of discussion. 
" But when you move them out wholesale," the planter was saying, " what am / going to do ? Who is goin' to plough my fields, and pick my cotton, and do the cuttin' and dippin* on my tur pentine farm ? " 
"7f they should go. in a body, which is very unlikely, our agricultural system would no doubt suffer, that is, until white foreign labor could be imported," Colonel Sanford admitted. "But what woold 'that be in comparison with the evil that threatens our children and grandchildren? " 
 
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" It is my business to take care of myself, and let Providence take care of my children after me," declared the planter. " Let our children control 'em as we control 'em. This is a white man's country and always will be." 
" Do you suppose for a moment that the present state of things can remain the same indefinitely?" asked the colonel. " It is the wildest folly to de pend on that. Just wait until they have developed capacity for organization and concerted effort, and until they numerically outnumber us. Already they are on the road toward it." 
He went on to say that every negro child in Barcelona, almost without exception, went to school; every white child did not, could not And it had been shown that the race was increasing much more rapidly than our own. In 1790-there were only 700,000 blacks in the whole country, in 1860 there were 4,000,000; he had estimated that there were now about 7,000,000, and at the same rate of increase there would be in fifty years aot less than 35,000,000, one-half the present popula tion of the United States. When it came to that, the colonel thought, there would be a desperate struggle for existence, and one race or the other would have to go down. History would repeat itself. It was not possible for two distinct races to exist on terms of equality and friendship under one government, unless they had begun and would continue to rapidly amalgamate by intermarriage. 
 
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Would there ever be this amalgamation, this min gling of the blood of the two races, in the South? There was not a man or woman of either race in the whole country who for a moment expected it. " . Colonel Sanford declared that neither would the people of the outside world for a moment expect it, if they had any conception of the silent but ceaseless and inexorable warfare that has been waging ever since the slave was set free and placed in a position to antagonize the dominant race. The inevitable conflict is in progress wherever the two races come into contact, and there is abso lutely no hope that it will ever cease. Every living soul in the South, in great part unconsciously though it may be, is taking' part in it continually. It enters into everything, is the one burning ques tion, relegating all others to the background, and massing together in one unbroken army every discordant element of either race which would otherwise stand independently apart What, then, is to be expected when the weaker race shall be come able to measure arms with the stronger? 
The planter could not answer, and took himself off, pleading pressing business. " The selfishness and thoughtlessness, or apathy, of our own people about this question are * simply amazing," the colonel concluded. " We are willing to cut our children's throats rather than suffer from a tempo rary disorganization of labor/' , Morton said a few words in rejoinder, substan- 
 
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tially agreeing, and then asked Colonel Sanford to accompany him to his office. Arrived there, he set a bottle of wine before his friend, and they cordially pledged each other. The younger man began at once to speak of a loss by fire which he had sustained the night before, the elder expressing well-chosen words of regret and sympathy. All the circum stances of the fire seemed to indicate the work of an incendiary, and Morton found additional cause for suspicion in the fact that some enemy was trying to cast a spell upon him. A few days be fore the fire this enemy had contrived unobserved to convey to the young man's bedroom a conjur ing medium similar in most respects to the one exhibited in the mayor's court." 
" Some friend of Cicero Witherspoon, perhaps," conjectured Morton. " I did n't help lynch him, but I helped to catch him, you know." 
" Jim Jones had better look out, then. His ginhouse may be the next to go." 
" This loss embarrasses me," the younger man continue^, with a frown. " I had expected to fix up that house and go there to live when I married, leaving my mother and sisters in the other one. I can't afford to build. The income from my pro fession is very small, as you know." 
" But it will increase. It is bound to. You had a good reputation to start with, and you have made a good record. It is only a matter of time, Robert." Colonel Sanford brought down his empty glass with emphasis. 
 
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"' Only a matter of time * is rather an unsatis factory prospect to a man who is in love," said Morton, with downcast eyes. " This is the matter I wanted to ask your advice about, Colonel. Al ready I have waited a whole year to speak to to her, hoping that my prospects would improve. You probably know whom I mean." 
" I think I do, and there is n't a lovelier girl in this whole country,'* Colonel Sanford declared, with enthusiasm. "But don't put off speaking to her too long. Some one else may get ahead of you." 
" I have often feared that," said Morton, gloom ily, " but I have as often told myself that I was in no position to marry. Has a man a right, Colonel Sanford, to ask a woman to share hardships with him?" 
"He certainly has a right to tell her that he loves her, and let her decide the rest No true woman is afraid of suffering hardships in the house <>f the man she loves. Women are not as weak and tender as a young man is apt to think, and have far more fortitude." 
"I cannot bear to think of not being able to give her every desirable comfort" 
n Look here, my friend," exclaimed the colonel, tt you are all wrong. That sad story of broken fortune and wretched poverty which has been the story of so many of us since the war has not been told for nothing. In the long run it will have 
 
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been good for us. You are a stronger character now than you would have been if you had been brought up in the lap of luxury. The same thing applies to young married people; I believe it is good for them to begin poor. Here's to your success, my boy," the colonel concluded, lifting his glass. 
Half an hour later, as Maum Katie was slowly mounting the steps, Colonel Sanford came out of the office with a satisfied smile on his face and passed her with a friendly nod, in response to her low courtesy. 
Old Maum Katie was a curious anomaly. As before indicated, she seemed to have no conception of the absorbing interests and aspirations of the younger generation, of her grandson, the pro fessor, and others like him, but stood wholly aside, living in the past. So much, perhaps, for having been fifty years a slave. However that might be, it is a fact that the representatives of the old slave-holding class seemed to be every thing in her eyes, while the new' people were nothing. She courtesied low to Colonel Sanford, but a few minutes before when she met Adam Brown on the street she looked the other way. The mayor was not a favorite with her, however. She did not live in the Neck, but owned a little property in Barcelona proper, and refused to give it up. Although it was a low and unhealthy spot, it joined the mayor's land and he wanted it. 
 
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**Wefl, Matim Katie," said he, accosting her one day, "it's time for you to sell out and move back among the colored folks. I'll trade with you ; I 'Jl give you a good price for your place." The indignant old woman's reply, as reported, was quick and to the point: " I ain't advertisin' to sell, Mr. Brown. I been among nice white folks all my fife, an1 dat's mo'n some people kin say. You ain't been dere long! " 
Robert Motion was putting the glasses and bottle away when this courageous character ap peared in his doorway and brightly wished him a good-day. "I come get de money for de wash, Mas' Robert," she said. 
** And you shall have it, Maum Katie." As he was paying her, he asked kindly about her health, complimented her on the excellence of her laundry work, and ended by presenting her with ah extra coin. 
"I wonder wut you 'd say, Mas' Robert," she remarked ere she retired, " ef I was to tell you wut I done wid dat last fifty cents you give me." 5 " Well, what did you do with it ? " 
"I went to Mr. Barker's sto' an' I bought ten cents' worth o' sugar an' ten cents' worth o* flour an* ten cents' worth o' eggs an* twenty cents' worth o* butter." 
"And you took it all home and you and your grandchildren ate it up, eh?" 
"No-sir-ee!" declared Maum Katie, smiling, 
 
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but fixing her eyes gravely on the young man. " I gie it all to a young white lady. I went down to her house an* slipped in de dine-room an* open de pantry do' an* poured de sugar in de sugar-dish an' de flour in de flour-box an' put de eggs on de shelf an' de butter in de butter-dish, an' den I come 'way an' dey did n' know nothin' 'bout it." 
"Did you really, Maum Katie?" The young man was astonished. " And what made you do that ? " he asked, looking at her with admiration. 
" You mus n' tell nobody, Mas' Robert, but dem po' people 'bout to starve, you see 'em so." 
" Why who who can be so very poor? " " Miss Reba Law'nce an' her ma." "Oh, Maum Katie, is this true?" exclaimed Robert Morton, in great agitation. " And you really did that for them?" His sallow face had turned a shade paler. 
A tear rolled down the old woman's cheek, and wiping it away, she explained how she had first begun to suspect it, and how she had found by investigation that Mrs. Lawrence and her daughter were really in desperate straits. The young man listened in silence, a look of great pain on his face, which gave place gradually to an expression almost of happiness as he reflected that under such cir cumstances she could lose nothing in marrying even a very poor man. By this time the whole story had been told and the narrator was going over it a second time, as was her wont 
 
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Maum Katie," Morton interrupted suddenly, tntut do that again, and keep on doing it, 
let me give you the money to buy the things with, you understand." 
" All right," she agreed, her soft, kindly voice sounding like music to him. 
" But you must be very careful and not let them ad you out. And and," he continued, eagerly, Couldn't you leave money? put it down where they could not fail to find it, and perhaps think tfcey lost it themselves." 
Mautn Katie showed that she was quite willing to try, and before she could answer Morton bounded to a little iron safe in the corner, opened it, and came back shortly with bills in his hand. 
" Here are seventeen dollars," he said, enthusi astically. " It is all I have on hand, but it will do for the present. I want you to put this ten-dollar bill in the house somewhere and take five dollars to hoy groceries with " 
** Mos'n* buy too much one time," interrupted liaum Katie " Dey'11 'spicion sump'n right off." 
**Do as you think best, but be sure to carry item something often. They sha'n't suffer: I '11 paid every cent I 've got in the world first!" 
" I knowd it. I knowd he would n't back out 'eatne she so po', like some mens would," was M*atn Katie's reflection, as she folded the bills in her band and gazed fondly at her companion. 
"And take these two dollars for yourself." 
 
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"Oh, Mas* Robert " "Yes, you must It's all I can give you this time, but you will have to take more than that from me before we are through with this thing. I expect you to look after them, remember, and not to say a word about it to anybody." " I ain't tole a soul but you." " Don't you think you had better buy something and take it down there in your basket right away? " he urged. Maum Katie agreed and went off smiling, well 
pleased at this turn of affairs. " Come and see me again in a day or two," he 
called after her, adding: " If they catch you at it, of all you do, don't mention my name." 
As the sound of her footsteps died away on the outer stairs and his excitement began to subside, a sudden misgiving seized the young man. What if this old black woman had deceived him and gone off with all his ready money? How could it be possible that those two refined and delicate ladies, whose interests were so near to his heart, had been reduced to such an extreme of poverty without the matter becoming public ? He remembered hearing of their loss through the insolvent railroad com pany about a year since, but it could not be that this was their only means of support With the half-formed determination of following Maum Katie and questioning her more closely, Morton caught up his hat, but instantly dropped it No, he would 
 
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watt. He would trust this kind old mammy who was agreeably associated with all his earliest recol lections. He had never known her to lie; he had always trusted 'her, and would do so still. It must be true. . Walking out that afternoon, he saw Reba and Betty go into the photographer's where Miss Black was employed, and he resolved at once to take a step which he had been contemplating for some tune. Returning to his office and making some slight changes in his toilet, he descended into the street again, and walked rapidly in the direction of the Lawrence home. Somewhat to his surprise and relief, for her presence there was clearly indi cative that his trust in her was not abused, Maum Katie appeared at the door in answer to his knock, and, as she showed him into the faded parlor, in formed him that she was staying with the invalid mother while Miss Reba went out with her cousin. Morton bade her tell Mrs. Lawrence that he -had called to see her about a matter of importance, and tbat if she should not feel well enough to receive him, he would communicate with her by letter. 
Mrs. Lawrence sat propped up in bed, sewing bard on a garment which Reba had put down when she went out The sudden announcement of the visitor excited her as only a nervous invalid who never saw company could be excited. A decep tive fittsh overspread her face, and she trembled from oead to foot, so that for some minutes she 
 
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thought it would be impossible to receive him, and contemplated sending him word to address her by letter. Had she been sure it was a mere matter of business, this would have been her final decision; but through some inexplicable process of reason ing she arrived at the conclusion that Reba was to be the subject of the coming interview, and she determined to see the young man face to face. Assisted by Maum Katie, she hurriedly made her self and the room presentable, and the visitor was shown in. 
It was all over in a few minutes. In a very simple and manly fashion, he confessed his love for Reba and asked permission to pay his ad dresses to her. He said he had hesitated a long while before deciding to take this important step, and gave his reasons, stating plainly what his pro fession brought him at present, and being careful not to overestimate his future prospects. Mrs. Lawrence heard him out, and then made answer in the somewhat formal fashion which, it seemed to her, the occasion demanded. 
"I knew your father well and esteemed him highly," she said " I have not seen you before for some years, but I have heard only good reports of you. That is the point the only point. As to business matters, I can well afford to say noth ing. We are all poor alike now-a-days; poverty is the fashion. It is therefore a matter for Reba only to decide. Should she like you, you may be sure of my full approval, Robert." 
 
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She pressed his hand warmly at parting, and when he was gone lay back upon her pillows trem bling and more unnerved than ever, yet filled with gladness; for out of all the young men in the town this one just gone would have been her choice, could she have voluntarily selected a husband for her daughter. 
 
Miss Black's labors at the photographer's were neither arduous nor incessant She often had time on her hands, and on this afternoon she was writing when Betty and Reba called for her. A letter had reached her from her aunt in Kingston that morn ing, and she was already inditing her answer. 
"I have just seen a newspaper giving an account of that horrible lynching in Barcelona," Mrs. Blos som had written. " I wonder that you are willing to live in a place where such terrible things hap pen. Simply because that poor colored man com mitted robbery driven to it by hunger, perhaps 
he was inhumanly murdered. But you know the harrowing details." 
** I know the harrowing details only too well," wrote Miss Black, and proceeded to give the true versio* of the story. " I owe h to a hero," she added in conclusion," that the ' poor colored man' was at first accused only of robbery, and my name was withheld from the public. No, I am not afraid to remain in Barcelona; I intend to stay and 
my borne among its people, because they are 
 
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my friends, and I trust them and love them. My eyes are opened, and I shall never cease to wonder at our Northern people for looking on carelessly from afar upon the desperate struggle of the two races in the South, persistently bestowing their sympathy upon the ignorant, slavish, lawless blacks rather than upon their brothers in color and blood." 
Had Miss Black known what was to pass between Mrs. Lawrence and young Morton the same after noon, it is possible that she would have expressed . herself with less eloquence. A woman's opinions are likely to take their shape and color from the circumstances immediately surrounding and per sonally affecting her, rather than from an extended or general view of a given situation with its mani fold and conflicting phases. From Miss Black's point of view the Barcelonans were good and kind, and in the happiness of a vague and doubtful dream she would fain have called down blessings upon them; from Rosetta's point of view they were wicked and cruel, and, in the depths of her misery, which she charged up to them, she would have vis ited them with the most blighting curse it would have been possible for her to conceive. 
After a half-hour's chat, Miss Black followed her visitors into the street and walked some distance with them. It so happened that as the three neared a street corner, a hurrying negro suddenly appeared around the angle and narrowly avoided colliding with the young lady from Boston, who shrank away 
 
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Irom him with an involuntary cry of terror. The negro was Mamie-Loo John, and he was quick to disappear down a side street His face recalled a recent occurrence which she would be glad to forget, but Miss Black was not sure that he was the man. Afterwards she felt glad not to be sure, Considering that, had she been, a sense of duty would compel her to inform against him. 
a I am getting nervous," she said, apologetically. "I am frightened by almost every black face I 
n 
"I thought you liked them the negroes," Betty remarked in wonder, exchanging glances with her cousin. 
"I like them? I detest them! " declared Miss Black, with such ardor that her friends were more than ever surprised. 
 
 XL 
BEFORE calling at the photographer's to see Miss Black the cousins had spent an hour together, and Betty had communicated some important news. In the first place, she announced that she had at last agreed to engage herself to her youthful lover, Jack Sanford, and said that her decision was the subject of congratulation at home, her mother being well pleased, and her step-father, although he preferred Jim Jones, being relieved that the matter was finally settled. Jack, of course, was very happy, and she, well, she had at last concluded that she did really love him. The chief trouble seemed to have been that he was only twenty, a year younger than herself, and though a fine manly fellow of whom she was very fond, he had seemed too boyish. During a year past she had hesitated to dismiss him, while unable to make up her mind to accept him, and so the " thing hung fire," as Adam Brown declared, month after month. 
The crisis had been brought about in rather an amusing way. The young lover, who was on 
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friendly and familiar terms with his father, had con sulted the colonel and asked his advice. The ad vice given was that of Benvolio to Romeo; the colonel recommended his son to " examine other beauties," and to make sure that Betty knew such examination was going on. This plan being care fully and craftily carried out, at the end of two months Betty's mind was made up and she came to terms. 
" When I saw him gallivanting around with other girls," she confessed to Reba, "although it was exactly what I had often told him to do, I did n't like it, and I felt that I could n't give him up. I should have known it before if he had n't been such a boy! I told him I could n't be a Lady Castlewood. The case of a man marrying a woman whom he had long hoped to have for his mother-in-law was made attractive in ' Henry Esmond,' fascinating in fact, but in real life it would be the most utterly absurd and frightful thing imaginable. The fact that I am a year older than Jack will always haunt me, but I suppose it will make no difference a hundred years hence." 
Reba congratulated her cousin upon having ar rived at a decision, but was not without misgivings; in her opinion there could be no room for doubts where love was real. Betty added that the news of her engagement had seemed to stun poor Jones, although she had steadfastly discouraged him from the beginning, and her step-father was solely re- 
 
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sponsible for his visits to the house. The mayor himself was commissioned to tell him, and did so, riding out to his farm and calling on him for that purpose. 
"And what do you suppose?-" continued Betty; " that poor man came to town next day and got drunk! Papa says he was never drunk before in his life. He not only got drunk, but came down to our house in that condition. Mamma was on the front piazza alone, and he staggered in and sat down by her. She didn't get up or call, not wanting me to know it. But I saw him open the gate and I went and sat at one of the windows, so as to be near if there should be trouble. Mamma was n't a bit afraid of him, and sat there quietly and talked to him. She asked him how he felt, and he said ' Bully/ afterwards mumbling some thing about his liver being out of order. f I 'm afraid something else is out of order, you poor man/ said mamma, and cried a little. She was very sorry for him. He seemed to realize that he was in the presence of a lady and did not say a pro fane word; but he talked in a very ridiculous way, and nearly fell out of his chair several times. He tried to sing a song and talked exultantly about being ' beholden to nobody;' and once he cried out that he had 'plenty of money and no poor kin*! Finally Charlie turned up and took him off down town. * Charles, old boy, you Ye my friend, ain't you ? ' the poor fellow repeated two or three times 
 
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as they staggered off. He apologized to papa for it a few days later, and said he would never get drunk again as long as he lived. I shudder to think of what my feelings would have been if I had ever encouraged that man just for the sake of his attentions, as some girls do. Papa is to blame if anybody is. He .is n't the only unhappy one," Betty continued. " You must have discouraged Charlie at the tournament ball, Reba." 
" I did," was the low answer. " For his sake I thought it ought to stop then and there. I sus pected it before, and I ought not to have allowed him to crown me." 
"Ever since then he has shown it," Betty de clared. " He stays and stays out at the place and will hardly ever come to town. Mamma cries over it and won't give up hope. But I ! ve told her it's no use; you never would like Charlie in that way." 
" I 'm so sorry,-- for her and for him," said Reba, tears in her voice. 
" Oh, he '11 get over it," was the rejoinder, with an air of large experience. " He '11 get over it after awhile, and Jim Jones will, too. Young men recover very soon." 
On the day after her interview with Robert Morton, Mrs. Lawrence made him the subject of a conversation with her daughter, but said nothing about his visit or his intentions, fearing to influence Reba's decision. She easily conceived that a girl 
 
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of the highest spirit, who proposed for herself a true marriage or none, might delusively persuade herself that she loved an attractive young man, while under the influence of a desire to extricate her mother and herself from a position so desper ate as was now theirs; and to save her daughter from the consequences of such a mistake was the mother's chief concern, for she admitted no sort of doubt that such a marriage would be a mistake fraught with the possibilities of the worst evil. 
When, therefore, the subject came up she spoke guardedly. She had observed for some time that her daughter seemed disinclined to discuss the young mail, and took this as a favorable sign, as indicative that she had begun to feel for him more than mere friendship; but she was not sure, and wished to see events take their own proper course. She began by saying that she regretted not to see a man so promising as Morton succeed more rapidly in his profession, and added that she had heard a good deal about his affairs from Mrs. Brown, who was fond of him. He was not making much money, in fact, he was quite poor, not, however, because he lacked in ability or failed to exert himself. She had heard that he was par ticular and conscientious, and, unlike some other young lawyers in the town, refused the proffer of a good many cases after he understood their merits. This was one hindrance to his material success. Another was that there were so many lawyers, each 
 
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with his little following of relatives and friends who used all their influence in his behalf, thus widely distributing the limited patronage. In a town of the size of Barcelona there could be only one or two schoolmasters and editors, a few physicians and ministers, and the law was almost the only opening for young men of ability who had neither capital nor taste for trade; for the bulk of the young men did go into trade now-a-days, farming being a lost art. 
Mrs. Lawrence added that if Miss Black had an atom of wisdom she would concern herself with Motion's character rather than with his present business prospects; it was better to be poor and happy than to be rich and full of regret 
"Have you heard anything about them?" asked Reba, with a studied, mechanical manner which her mother regarded as suspicious. 
"Oh, no; only I thought she might fall in love with him after after that matter with Sam Thomas, you know." 
" Did Aunt Matilda say anything about his ten dency to drink?" asked Reba, suddenly, and for the moment Mrs. Lawrence lost all hope. 
" Why, no ! Who says " " Josephine told me ( people' said he had been seen taken home drunk late at night." " I don't believe a word of it. Matilda had never heard such reports. I suppose he drinks in moderation, as all gentlemen do or used to do." 
 
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" I did n't believe it at the time," said the girl, quietly, and her mother's hope returned. " Jose phine has not been here since the day she told me," Reba added. "If she doesn't collect us some money soon I don't know what we '11 do." 
Their struggle for existence was growing more bitter. The help persistently given by the invalid indeed lessened the burden for Reba, but hardly increased their income. Josephine was offered special inducements and brought them more work, but failed to collect a proportionately larger sum. For weeks Mrs. Lawrence had been feigning a lost appetite, and her daughter in consequence was able, as a rule, to satisfy her own hunger; but already a day had come when there was absolutely nothing to eat in the house. At breakfast Reba cooked the last egg and carried it in to her mother to gether with a single slice of bread without butter. Mrs. Lawrence feigned nausea and would not touch either. At noon Reba heated the same egg over and carried it in with the same slice of bread, only to find that her mother's nausea had increased. The same tragical comedy was re-enacted when the hour for supper arrived. 
Reba began to comprehend that her mother was determined to starve so long as there was not food enough for both, and saw that something must be done without delay. She told herself with conster nation that a person of so delicate a constitution as her mother's could not suffer hunger with 
 
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impunity, little dreaming that grave mischief had been done already. She determined to go to her aunt the next day, confess their deplorable situa tion, and appeal for help. 
Going to the kitchen at an early hour the next morning with intent to warm over the same egg a third time and toast the same piece of dry bread, she was amazed and bewildered to find butter, flour, sugar, and several eggs in the pantry. It was impossible that she could have overlooked these things yesterday. Yet what other explanation could there be? Food did not rain down from the roof of a pantry. Reba thought of the miraculous increase of the meal and the oil in the house of the widow who entertained the man of God, the prophet of Israel, in time of famine, and with a thankful heart prepared a breakfast for her mother and herself. She shrank from appealing to Adam Brown, even through his wife, her aunt, and put her visit off. 
The next day Josephine appeared, as cheerful as ever, in spite of the fact that she was less than three weeks a widow. Josephine was a child of nature, and did not see the necessity of feigning a grief which she did not feel. What was of impor tance in connection with her visit was that she left two dollars which she had with difficulty collected, and thus absolute famine in the household was averted for the time. 
One morning, a day or two after Maum Katie's 
 
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interview with Morton, Reba was overjoyed to find a ten-dollar bill in a drawer of her dressingtable, and ran with it to her mother, hazarding the guess that she had put it there and forgotten it months before. But Mrs. Lawrence looked at the money suspiciously, recalling the recent strange discovery of unexpected food in the pantry. 
" I fear some kind person knows how wretchedly poor we are, and is trying to help us secretly," she said. 
" It may be Aunt Matilda," suggested Reba, after a thoughtful pause. " Betty may have found out, in coming here. She has sharp eyes." 
The discovery on the same day of more grocer ies in the pantry, a larger supply than the first, served to confirm this view; and it was at once agreed that Reba should keep on the watch, in order to discover if possible the benefactor who was actu ated by so tender a regard for their feelings. It should be added that their pride was not as keenly wounded as it would have been in former days, they having reached the point where such a feeling is well-nigh lost in the presence of graver concerns. Still they felt uneasy. Bitter necessity compelledthem to eat the food and spend the money, but they would gladly have refrained from so doing. 
For more than a week Reba kept on the watch without making any discovery, sitting with her sewing in her mother's room near a window whence she could frequently scan the back piazza 
 
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and not fail to observe any one entering the dining-room. It was often her habit while thus engaged to sing, in a soft, sweet voice, which was an unfailing source of pleasure to the invalid. Her voice was of an unusual quality, and had been much ad mired among her few friends; but of late Reba scarcely had the heart to sing, and was glad her mother did not request it. As she sat in the room, they talked a little now and then, and meanwhile she sewed hard and kept on the watch. At last one afternoon, as she sat listening to a mocking-bird in a China-tree of the yard and thinking of her own neglected voice, she heard stealthy steps on the back piazza, and looked up just in time to see a figure disappear through the dining-room door. 
Reba rose at once and followed to the diningroom as quietly as possible. A black woman with a basket on her arm, standing within the wide-open pantry, busily engaged in emptying several small packages, was what she saw. One step nearer, and she recognized the intruder. 
" Maum Katie, what are you doing there?" the girl suddenly demanded from her place; whereupon the old woman dropped her basket and came out of the pantry in great fright. 
" I ain't stealin' nothiri', Miss Reba. I ain't stealin' a thing," she ejaculated helplessly. 
" Oh, Maum Katie," cried the girl, horror-struck, " how could you think I thought you were stealing? I knew what you were doing." 
 
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" Did you, Miss Reba, honey? " " Yes, I did, and I think you are an angel of goodness." Reba burst into tears. " Come with me to mamma," she sobbed. The two went into the house immediately, and stood together by the invalid's bed as Maum Katie made her confession. At first she made no men tion of Morton, remembering his earnest charge, except to say that it was the money given her by him, out of the goodness of his heart, that she had made use of. " And did you put that ten-dollar bill in Reba's room, too?" the invalid asked suddenly, in the midst of the confession, which had embraced only the pantry supplies. " Ye-yes, ma'am," stammered Maum Katie, in great uneasiness. " I did n't know there was anybody in the world as good and kind as you," said Mrs. Lawrence, overcome, a great tear rolling down her cheek. " We thank you with all our hearts," she added, looking tenderly upon their stammering benefactor; " but you must not do any more of it, Maum Katie. How can you afford to? It must be all you can do to take care of yourself. And and " her pride coming to the surface "we really don't need your help, you know. And we will pay you the money back soon." Maum Katie was now overcome in turn, and, forgetting her promise, confessed all, how she 
 
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had acted of her own accord in the first instance, but only as Robert Morton's instrument afterward. The effect of the story on Reba was such that she fell on her knees at the bedside, threw her arms round her mother, and the two kissed each other repeatedly, in an odd frantic way, weeping softly. Maum Katie looked down upon this inexplicable demonstration with shining eyes, deducing there from certain conclusions which were evidently very satisfying to her. 
" Tell him," said Reba,. following the old woman to the piazza as she was taking her leave, "tell him we don't need it, as mamma says, but please don't tell him that we know he is helping us." 
Maum Katie readily gave the promise and departed. Then Reba returned to her mother, kneeling at the bedside as before. 
" We have a friend now, a true friend, Reba," said Mrs. Lawrence, softly. " I could die now without feeling that you were being left alone." . The girl saw no significance in this speech, and the two were happier that night than for many months. But the next morning Reba was made anxious by the discovery that her mother was weaker than usual, and really could not eat, al though for the present, at least, there was no lack of good food. 
 
 XII. 
MORE than half the adult population of the Neck had crowded into its small, rude public hall in order to listen to the much advertised debate on the Liberia emigration question. Parson Smith and Professor Brice smiled complacently at each other as they witnessed the gathering of the as sembly and reminded themselves that the coming contest of words was the result of their efforts. They had organized the club, had selected the speakers, had put ideas into their heads, and thought they had every reason to believe that the result would be a source of pride to the race. Especially gratified were they when some halfdozen white men, Colonel Sanford being among them, entered the hall and were provided with seats on a separate bench near the door. The smiling parson and professor each wondered if even the most intelligent white people could sur pass what they expected to accomplish in an ora torical way that evening, and for the moment this thought obscured in their minds the end and ob ject of the meeting itself. A certain exuberant and 
 
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almost childish vanity characterizes the educated (or half-educated) negro. 
After prolonged and inexplicable delay, during which the leaders scanned the assembly with an air of conscious superiority, and put their heads together and whispered, the meeting was opened by the singing of a hymn. Then a robust young woman stood forth and recited in a sort of halfchant a long, measured narrative, which, for the want of a more accurate term, may here be called an epic poem in condensed form, describing the march of the sons of Israel from Egypt to Canaan. It was the same young woman who was wont to chant and sell her own and " the blind lady's " pro ductions on Saturdays in the negro quarters of Barcelona. Grammar and metre were alike at fault in the present effort, but the poetess had chosen an august and stirring theme, her voice was a rich contralto, her manner was animated, at times really dramatic, and the white as well as the black occu pants of the hall listened intently. 
" We could n't 'a' had a better interduction to the subjeck befo' us," said Parson Smith, taking the floor as soon as the poetess had sounded the last string of her lyre and resumed her seat amid great applause. "Miss Rachel tells the old story of the Israelites marchin' to the promised lan', an' it makes die think of us h-yuh to-day who 're tryin' to see our way clear to march out of America, the white man's country, to Afrka, our own country, which 
 
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God give to us long ago. Brethren, we are free, but we are still in Egypt, in the house of bondage, in the white man's country, where it's no use to try to live under our own vine an' fig-tree, an', brethren, we must git out! We must rise up an' go up an' march to the promised lan'," shouted the parson, already on his highest key. 
"But the trouble is, some say it's too fur, an' some say they dunner whether we ever come fum there or not, an' some say one thing an' some another, an' some care more for the flesh-pots of Egypt 'n for the glory of their race, an' they ruther stay h-yuh an' make bricks for the 'Gyptians all their days. These are the faint-hearted brethren, an' the holy Book says ' a shaking leaf shall chase them. 1 Brethren, I despise the faint-hearted. Brethren, I say rise up ! wake up ! " shouted the speaker, striking his right fist into his left palm. " Brethren, we are in a strange lan'; we was brought h-yuh by force; an' now we are free to go, let us return to the lan' of our fathers where God meant for us to be. It ain't good for white an' black to live together; it ain't accordin' to the will of God who put us off to ourselves at the start an' ' deter mined the bounds of their habitation.' Brethren, let us arise an' go." 
After a long, rambling, and impassioned harangue in this strain, the parson became more calm and spoke with more real force of the advantages of African soil, vegetation, etc., presenting the more 
 
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favorable reports as to the progress of the Liberian republic, and quoting from Bishop Taylor. 
The next speaker proved to be Mamie-Lou John, appointed on the negative. He had been carefully " coached " by the schoolmaster, who wished to see both sides of the question presented, and he began by asking if the situation of the negro in America was really as bad-^as some pretended. He thought not. He thought the race had made considerable advance, and now had many rights and privileges formerly denied it. He raised a laugh by declar ing, in substance, that although it was difficult for a negro to get into the jury-box, it was compara tively easy for him to get into the prisoners' dock. Work was furnished the negro not only on planta tions, but in many industries. Many of the race had been able to accumulate a little property and were better off than a good many white -laboring men. Some had even acquired wealth. He pointed out that negro children went to school, mainly at the white man's expense. In some elections, at least, the black man's vote was not only counted, but was paid for in cash. 
" I reckon Brother Smith will call me one o' the faint-hearted," said Mamie-Lou, with a laugh, " but I want to know mo' about'Liberia befo' I go there. I don't want to make bricks for the white man no mo' 'n he does, but I 'd ruther stay in Georgia where I kin git biscuits an' cabbage than to go to Liberia an' have to eat lizards. That's what they 
 
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tell me. An' I don't want none o' them wild, naked Africans to ketch me an' swing me up over burnin' red pepper, or tie a rock roun' my neck an' fling me in the river, like they done Dave Green 'cause he stole somethin' from 'em. That's what Jake Hart says, an' he 's went there an' come back. But ther 's one thing 'bout Liberia I do like," the speaker admitted: " They say you kin buy one them native niggers for ten dollars. That would suit me. I would n't mind ownin' one ef I could git 'im so cheap." After a pause he concluded: " But I 'm on the other side this question, myself, an' you ought to put me there to start wid." 
" Den I think you better set down," said the chairman, whose voice was drowned in a roar of laughter, coming chiefly from the white bench. 
The next speaker was a young man who had enjoyed a collegiate education, or what passed for one, in Atlanta, and he delivered a passionate and intemperate address in favor of wholesale and im mediate emigration. Stripped of its flaming rhet oric and tiring repetition, its profuse reference to the " burning intellect of the brain," the " mental force of the mind,"" etc., with which the black man was insistently declared to be endowed equally with the white man, " and often superior," his speech was in substance as follows: 
" This is a white man's country, and always will be, right or wrong. The power of might triumphs over the power of right. The white man is boss, 
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and the negro is ' nowhere/ The negro is his horse, his very dog. And the shame of it is that the negro is willing. Why, when some of these white men wake up in hell they '11 expect to hold a nigger between them and the fire, and the nigger will be afraid to say no [laughter]. A few of us can be preachers, and teachers, and merchants, and doctors, and editors among our own people, but what are we among the white people but hew ers of wood and drawers of water? What are we but porters, butchers, hod-carriers, draymen, coachmen, butlers, barbers, waiters, and cooks ? What career is open to us but that of an inferior serving a superior? We cannot advance beyond the bounds set for us, even though we be the most skilled and learned in the' whole community in which we live, which often happens [! ]. The best and most intelligent of us are not fit to sit in the presence of the most igno rant and low-down white man. At no table, public or private, is there a place for us. We are, indeed, allowed to see the inside of the finest hotels, but only when we are willing to wear the white man's livery, and stand behind his chair. 
" My blood boils when I remember that my race contributed 250,000 soldiers to the armies of the Union in the late war, and up to this date not one genuine negro holds a commission in the military or naval service. Only one colored almost white 
man has as yet reached and held the grade of a mere lieutenant. Alas, the poor negro ! Wher- 
 
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ever he goes, whatever he does, he is hounded by prejudice, and there is absolutely no door of es cape except that of the grave. Were he a snowwhite leper instead of being merely covered with the black skin which God gave him, he could not be more completely cut off from all fellowship with the whites. Our fathers tell us that there is a thousand times less real sympathy and friendship between the two races now than there was before emancipation, and you will notice that it is our humble old people to whom the white man now shows kindness. This means that the white likes the black well enough as" long as he knows his ' place,' as long as he is willing still to be a slave, still to fill his old lowly position without complaint; but just let the young freeman assert himself, and there is war! 
" Friends, countrymen, and lovers, are we to stay here and allow this to go on? Are we to remain forever the white man's waiter, day-laborer, wage-earner, when we want to be and ought to be lawyers and judges and congressmen and senators and presidents, when we want to and ought to own factories and steamboats and railroads and banks? Is it right for us to forever be the under dog, the bottom rail, when we might be on top and have got just as much right to be the cock of the walk as anybody? A thousand times no! In Hayti the black man controls everything and the white man ain't nobody. What a contrast! Here 
 
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we have no protection for oar wives and daughters or even for our lives. The case of Hayti shows that we can become great if we only will. Then let us leave this country, where we are nothing but dogs, and return to the land of our forefathers, where a great destiny surely awaits us. Friends, Romans, countrymen, and lovers, do not be faint hearted. Rouse ye from yotir apathy! Awake to the bugle blast of freedom! Strike for your altars and your fires, God, and the land of yotir forefathers! " 
After the applause had subsided a mulatto rose to speak for the negative. He said it was interest ing to hear both sides of a question, but, for his part, he wanted to stay in America. And he was n't afraid to stay, either for himself or his fam ily. The whites would not catch him and hang him unless he committed some terrible crime, and that he expected to be careful not to do. As for his wife and daughters, no white man had ever insulted them, and as long as they respected them selves he believed they would be respected and would be safe. He would say the same thing for the women of the whole race; as long as they behaved themselves properly, which they did n't always do ' by a long jump,' they were as safe as the- average white woman. He ventured to assert that those who wanted to emigrate to Liberia in order to become judges and congressmen* and sen ators and presidents would aot find those positioc* 
 
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lying around loose; he thought there were thou sands of white men in this country who would like to have such positions, but who would never secure them, for the simple reason that the " burning in tellect of the brain," which the young man from Atlanta referred to so often, was lacking. Granted that this was a white man's country and Africa the black man's, and there must be a complete separa tion, he would like to ask where was he and other "colored" men to go? This sort of arithmetic could only result in assigning them a place in the middle of the Atlantic ocean, and they had all better learn- to swim at once. He thought it a'for tunate thing that there were now fewer mulattoes than before the war. 
The schoolmaster, known as Professor Brice, then spoke. He said he had been deeply interested in the sentiments expressed with so much force by his young friend from Atlanta. It was all true, but there was another side to it. The white man was indeed unconquerably determined to ostracize the negro; he had notified him in unmistakable terms that thus far he should approach and no further. The negro had learned his lesson pretty well on the whole, and those who forgot it might expect to be taught it anew most effectively and without delay. But still there was another side to all this, namely: every intelligent and candid black man knows that he would do practically the same thing in the white man's place. The best, the most intel- 
 
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ligent and high-spirited of the race do not desire close contact with the whites, and prefer to stand apart as a separate body. Race antipathy may possibly be more intense among the whites because the blacks have been their slaves, but it is strong enough on both sides. This he declared was not an argument against but for emigration. The history of Hayti shows how the black man is inclined to treat the white when he has the power; it also shows, just as conclusively as does the ne gro's condition in America, how impossible it is for two such heterogeneous races to live in peace under one government. 
" Our people made a big mistake about this thing," continued the speaker. " We thought the Northern white man loved us and was ready to take us to his bosom, and that only the Southern white man hated our black skin, but we Ve found out better. We profited out of a white man's quarrel, that was about all. As long as the North erner stayed mad with his Southern brother he tried his level best to put us on top, but he ain't mad now no more, and he's done quit tryin'. He bit off more 'n he could chaw anyhow. We can't blame him; he's a white man and sooner or later he's. bound to take the white man's side against the black. You notice that all of 'em that comes down h-yuh to live mighty quick takes the white man's side and gives us the cold shoulder. We all vote the Republican ticket in national elections, and 
 
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that 's right because that party freed us; but it ain't goin 1 to pay for us to forget that as far as we are concerned it ain't a question of party, but of race in this country. I could tell you of many cases if I had the time, but it's gettin' late, of outrages against the black people in the North, which prove that race prejudice is jes' as strong up there as down h-yuh. It's high time for us to stop puttin' hope in the North and begin to depend on ourselves. If we ever do anything h-yuh we Ve got to do it ourselves, and if we ever go to Africa and make a nation we Ve got to do it ourselves. 
" We can't do it h-yuh, that's settled. The very man who wrote the emancipation proclama tion God bless him ! said before the war broke out that there was such a difference between the white and black races as would forever prevent their living together on terms of social and politi cal equality. In this thing, hist'ry only repeats itself, as they say. Birds of a feather must flock together. It is the everlasting decree from on high that the races of men as well as birds and beasts should collect together ' after their kind.' The black people belong to Africa, the yellow people to Asia, and the white people to Europe and America. God never intended for these people to live in one country. All Europe is mixed up in the United States, of course, but then all Europe is white; it's one race. The Chinese, they like to come h-yuh, but not to stay; they want to make 
 
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money and go back. And Uncle Sam is tired of Jem a'ready and is fixin' to shut 'em out. My friends, it ain't a question of whether we ought to go or stay; that was settled ages ago when we was made black and the white man white. The question is how to go, where to go, whether to Liberia or the Congo, and when. Go we must. If the national government will help us, so much the better; the thing will be easier and quicker done. If not, then we must work and wait and plan and save and go anyhow! I propose that at the next meetin' we debate on the means to carry out the great scheme." 
A^ the schoolmaster resumed his seat, Colonel Sanford was seen advancing down the aisle. 
" If you have no objection, I 'd like to say a word or two," he said to the chairman as he approached. 
" Suttenly. We be glad to hear you, Cun'l." " I cannot subscribe to everything that has been said here to-night," began Colonel Sanford, look ing about him upon the assembly, " but I have heard much that has pleased me and I have been deeply interested, especially so in the remarks of the last speaker, who, I believe, hits the nail squarely on the head. Better than anything else he said, I think, was his advice to you as a race to cease to look to the North for help and go to work to help yourselves. In this African emigration question which is of vital importance to both you 
 
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and me, but especially so to you, I would advise you as he has done, not to wait to see whether the North will help you, or the South, but to help your selves. The North has already done more for you than you could have dreamed of expecting. When it suddenly admitted to the suffrage a million of recently freed slaves, belonging to the least civil ized race in the world, I speak frankly, it did for your sake what no nation or country has ever done before in the history of the world. After that most extraordinary leap in the dark, after that too precipitate if not reckless assumption of untold risks, the final results of which no man now living can foresee, and the present aspects of which fill with alarm many even of its former advocates, the North will likely be slow about making further sacrifices for you on a large scale. Yet in the end I believe North, South, and West will combine to help your movement, because your going will be for this country's good as well as your own. A government whose revenue from whiskey and tobacco alone in two years would doubtless more than pay the expenses of the immediate transport ation and settlement in Africa of your entire race now in this country, a government which has spent $800,000,000 on pensions alone within twenty-five years, is surely in a position to countenance and give at least a measure of material aid to a move ment which must prove of vast benefit to its own citizens. 
 
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"But do not make the mistake of waiting until that is done. All the important emigrations of history were the voluntary movements of spirited and enterprising men who were anxious to better their condition. The two greatest emigrations in the history of the world, those of the Irish and Germans to this country, were accomplished with out any government aid whatever. The total cost must have been enormous, but was borne by the emigrants themselves, although most of them were very poor men. Do you, then, follow the exam ple of these ; work hard, live frugally, put by your savings, and when the time arrives you will not be left behind. Most of you have little to leave behind, and a very small sum comparatively would suffice to carry a family to Africa, build for them a house as habitable as most of you now live in, and maintain them for a year. Liberia is not your only chance. The great Congo Free State has now been opened to the world, and its charter offers splendid opportunities for the founding of an empire by determined colonists. The climate would perhaps be trying for a white man, but it could hardly be so for you. The mean tempera ture is really never excessive, seldom rising above ninety-one degrees even in the hottest months, from January to April. The country is divided between mountains, plains, and lowlands, is dotted with lakes abounding in fish, and is intersected by innu merable rivers, the greatest of which is the mighty 
 
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Congo, a stream nearly three thousand miles in length, and not less than ten miles wide at its mouth. There are vast tracts of the country cov ered with seemingly boundless forests interrupted only here and there by clearings around the villages and farms. The best of the negro races are said to be found in the Congo basin. The present scattered inhabitants of this region are said to be peacefully inclined, to be good farmers, and to have a taste for trading. There is already a trade in precious spices, ivory, gums, anddyewoods; and rich iron and sulphur mines, and gold and silver deposits, have been found. The soil is exceed ingly fertile, and many useful trees and plants, as coffee, grow wild, and as many as three crops a year of some vegetables can be produced. Besides many native fruits unknown to you, the grape, the orange, the lemon, the pine-apple, the cocoanut, the banana, etc., flourish there, and manioc, millet, sugar-cane, tobacco, hemp, etc., are cultivated. Indian corn, wheat, rice, and the potato could no doubt be introduced, if this ha^ not already been done; for in the opinion of eminent scientists, the Congo basin is destined to become the granary of the world. With the exception of the elephant, the hippopotamus, the chimpanzee, and a few others, the animal life in general differs but little from that of our Atlantic seaboard. But I can't stop to tell you about all these things. You can find them out for yourselves. I only speak of 
 
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them because, to my surprise, so little has been said of them here to-night. 
"One would think your race here would rise up as one man to embrace any opportunity to escape degrading social conditions in a country belonging to another race, especially when a rich and desirable country is open to you, where, if anywhere, you will be able to realize the dream of prosperity and greatness which some of you doubtless entertain. I believe there is an ap pointed destiny for races and nations, and surely it would seem to be yours to go back to the ancient seat of your race, and carry the blessings of civi lization which you have at least in a measure acquired during your long enforced sojourn in a strange land. A more glorious, soul-stirring pros pect has never been set before the eyes of any people. 
"Will you advance and embrace it? Are you worthy of it? If you are, you will be prompt to bestir yourselves. Your leading men will be tireleas in their effort to awaken the masses of the race to the importance of this question. They will agitate it far and wide in this country, and cease not until there has developed an overwhelming sentiment in favor of it among your people, until shipload after shipload of your friends and neigh bors have forever left American shores, and all this whether with or without the white man's help." 
 
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It was now half-past twelve o'clock, and on con cluding his remarks Colonel Sanford did not wait to hear more. Turning, he walked quickly down the aisle as he had come, and then out at the door. The bench reserved for the whites was long since deserted. Two or three white men were standing just outside, however, and as the colonel appeared, one of them, who was a large planter, stepped for ward and demanded: 
" Colonel Sanford, do you know that you are a labor agitator, sir? " 
u I')! tell you what I know, sir," was the haughty reply. " I know that I 'm trying to save your grand children and mine from inconceivable political ruin." 
" He 's a regular old crank," said one of the by standers, as the colonel walked on, disdaining to discuss the matter. 
11 If Sam Thomas and some of the boys was here," remarked another, " that young Atlanta nigger might have some trouble before he got home to-night. He's about as sassy as they make J em." 
Colonel Sanford soon left the precincts of the Neck behind, and entered Barcelona proper. The streets were now absolutely deserted, and, although the freshening wind shook the China-trees and scattered their yellowed leaves abroad, the mid night stillness and repose were no less perceptible and impressive. 
 
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As he advanced into the glare of an electric light in the business quarter, the colonel's attention was attracted to the figure of a woman shuffling noisily and hurriedly over the brick sidewalk. As she drew near, she called his name eagerly, and he recognized Maum Katie. She breathlessly in formed him that Mrs. Lawrence was dead, and asked if he would not go to the house, no one being there but Miss Reba and the doctor. She was now on her way to tell Mrs. Brown. 
" She was tuck sudden," the old woman ex plained. " I des happened to be dere, an' I run fer de dawcter, but he ain't mo'n git dere a halfhour befo' she was gone." 
Colonel Sanford said he would go instantly, and the two separated. Upon arriving, he found the front door open and the hall dark, but light streamed from a chamber door which sto'od ajar, and after some moments of hesitation he approached and entered softly. The doctor" turned from the bed at the sound, and the two men stood together near the door and whispered, their eyes fixed on the young girl who knelt beside the couch of death, her face buried in the pillows, her hand clasping that of the dead, her form quivering but sending forth no sound. 
" It is a very strange case," whispered the doctor. " She must have suffered from a sort of nervous dyspepsia, for she has evidently wasted away for the want of proper nourishment." 
 
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In a short while hurried steps were heard in the hall, and Mrs. Brown appeared, being followed into the room by her daughter and Maum Katie. Betty went instantly to the bed and knelt down there, clasping Reba in her arms. 
" Oh, doctor -- colonel -- " faltered Mrs. Brown, with streaming eyes, looking from one to the other appealingly, -- " it's so sudden -- so dreadful! We did n't none of us know a thing ailed her more than common. Po' Reba ! po* child ! " 
 
 XIII. 
ON the mornirtg after the great debate, in which he modestly believed he had achieved distinction if not greatness, Mamie-Lou John left the town in the company of a young negro called Riley Martin, who had succeeded Cicero as his favored friend. Tired of hanging about the haunts of the idle in the Neck and Barcelona proper, they had some days since planned a change of scene, and only waited for the night of the debate to come and go before taking the highway for Putnam, situate twenty miles away in the adjoining county of Richmond. 
Cheerfulness is one of the negro's most pro nounced characteristics, and these two reckless vagabonds, who had no prospects in life, and who, indeed, would be lucky to escape the halter, did not fail to enliven their long tramp with jest and laughter, gossip and song. At one o'clock they halted in the negro settlement of a plantation, drank water at the well, and met a friendly wel come, but were not offered food, the dinner hour 
 
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being long past However, they did not suffer, having found wild grapes in a forest by the way, foraged a field until they secured a phenomenally late watermelon, and later in the day invaded a farmer's sugar-cane patch. The average negro is accustomed to scant and irregular meals, and these two were by no means inclined to complain of hard fare that day. 
Arrived before nightfall in Putnam, a less con siderable town than Barcelona, they looked up old acquaintances, made new ones, stood about the fires which the blacks burned out of doors in. the back streets, made themselves agreeable, and were invited to supper. Later they lay down to sleep on the bare floor before an open fire in the cabin of an acquaintance, their host occupying the small inner apartment with his wife and family. This was only a slight inconvenience to Mamie-Lou and Riley, and they thought not of complaining even to each other; they were enjoying their visit, and, but for an important circumstance, they might have returned to Barcelona in a day or two no more guilty than when they started on their journey. 
The important circumstance was the sight of a young white man with money. It was at an early hour of the next morning that they saw him go into an express office in Putnam and count and re-count a roll of bank notes preparatory to having it inclosed in an express envelope and sealed. They kept an eye on him all day as he went about 
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doing business and collecting more money, and when about mid-afternoon they overheard him say that he was going to ride to Barcelona that night, they put their heads together and whispered. 
The young man was a fine, handsome fellow, barely of age, and was none other than Betty Walton's youthful lover, Jack Sanford. The old colonel had hoped to see his son study law, and was disappointed when he developed an eminently practical turn and a great liking for business. However, when Jack declared that he would rather be a successful merchant--and he believed he could be in time -- than an unsuccessful lawyer, which would be inevitable, his father wisely allowed him to follow his own bent After serving two years in the establishment of a prominent mer chant of Barcelona, he was now second only to the head clerk in importance and value, having developed uncommon aptitude for the business and risen rapidly. An absorbing desire to marry Betty Walton as soon as possible was unquestion ably the leading inspiration of his untiring efforts, and now that she had engaged herself to him he worked harder than ever. 
During the past year it had been his practice to spend a week about once a month in visiting tht smaller towns in Malvern and one or two neighbor ing counties in order to solicit orders and collect accounts, and this was his present business in Putnam. The vicious, the lazy, and incompetent are 
 
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prone to cherish feelings of envy and malevolence toward the worthy, the intelligent, and industrious. When, therefore, Mamie-Lou John and Riley Martin saw Jack Sanford counting his employer's gains, they asked themselves what right had this young white man to all that money when they had none; and, as they meditated their dark design, their only scruple took the shape of the fear of detection and punishment. They resolved to act, but to act warily. 
It was six o'clock before Jack Sanford had fin ished his business and was ready to start He had his choice between going to an hotel or the house of a friend for the night, waiting for the morrow to start home; but he did neither, preferring to take the lonely night ride. His reasons were simple and sound. He had been absent five days and felt that almost an eternity yawned between the present and his last glimpse of Betty, and if he went straight home without loss of time, he knew that he could see her the same night. There was to be a ball at Barcelona, and, knowing nothing of Mrs. Lawrence's sudden death, he counted on the pres ence of Betty among the dancers. Without push ing his horse too hard, he calculated that he could reach home by half-past nine; by half-past ten, or at the latest, eleven, he could present himself at the ball, and even though her card should prove to be taken up, he could at least see Betty in her beautiful evening dress, and have a few words with 
 
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her between dances. The ardent lover did not go over all this twice before deciding to start. 
There had been not a few cases of murder and robbery within his recollection on lonely roads at night in Malvern and Richmond counties, but as he went on his way Jack Sanford did not recall one of them or think of a possible danger. The night was clear and the high-sailing moon rained plenti ful light along the winding road, the coarse, heavy sand of which glistened here and there with the brilliancy of diamonds; but deep shadow envel oped the forests of pine on either hand, and none could know what evil might lurk there. Jack did not even recall with a sense of satisfaction that he had taken the advice of friends and carried a pistol when starting on his tour; his mind was occupied by a single picture, -- that of Betty whirling grace fully in the dance, clothed in soft garments of white, and more beautiful than the watchful moon-goddess herself. 
About five miles from Putnam, at a turn of the road, he was suddenly aroused from his absorbed contemplation of this alluring picture by a flash of red light only a few feet to the right of him, and the sound of a pistol-shot close at hand. There was no time to draw his own weapon and defend himself or put spurs to his horse and flee ; a second shot immediately followed the first, and by the time Jack had grasped his pistol his horse had plunged madly forward and was sinking beneath him. 
 
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As the wounded animal went down, falling heav ily upon its side and pinning its rider to the earth, two dark figures materialized at the borders of the road and leaped upon their prey. Jack's pistol had gone off at random, but was still in his hand, and he strove to spring to his feet and defend him self. While struggling frantically to withdraw his leg from beneath the horse, unable to rise or see his assailants, with the harrowing thought in his mind that he might be murdered and see his Betty no more, he was conscious of a heavy blow on the head accompanied by a sharp intense pain. And then, in a moment, all things became a dark, form less waste before his sight and before his mind. 
A short while later two strangers presented themselves at a negro cabin on the same road and less than a mile from the scene. One of them halted to drive a bloody hatchet into the gatepost, while the other mounted the steps and knocked. An old man opened the door, and a middle-aged woman and a young man just grown came and looked over his shoulder at the visitors. MamieLou and Riley announced, with every appearance of innocence, that they were walking from Barce lona to Putnam, that they were tired and cold (the night was a little frosty), and asked permission to stop and rest by the fire for half an hour. 
The privilege was readily granted, and they were soon warming themselves before the bright pineknot fire and engaged a in friendly conversation 
 
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with the old man and his son. It was past the hour of supper, but they were invited to help themselves to some sweet potatoes which had just been raked out of the hot ashes, and did not fail to do them full justice. Their host felt that politeness forbade his asking questions, but he permitted himself to inquire what " mought be " his visitors' " entitle ments," whereupon Mamie-Lou glibly mentioned a false name for himself and another for Riley, who looked somewhat disconcerted. The old negro then mentioned that his own name was Jerry Carte^ and his son's v/as June. In the course of their con versation he also stated that they were farming for themselves on rented land; they held a small eighty-acre farm belonging to Colonel Sanford of Barcelona, and were on good terms with their landlord. The visitors, as they were from Barce lona, of course knew who Colonel Sanford was. 
" Mister Jack, de cunTs son, stopped by yuh to see us 'bout de rent yistiddy," said old Jerry, little dreaming that his two visitors had heard the last sigh of the young white man named within the hour. 
After warming himself thoroughly and eating a couple of potatoes, Riley became uneasy and rest less, evidently desiring to be gone, but Mamie-Lou lingered, laughing and joking in the most careless manner. A gold ring on his little finger attracted the notice of old Jerry and his son, the latter inquir ing if the owner would sell it. Mamie-Lou pre- 
 
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tended that he could not be induced to part with it, but presently offered it for the sum of ten dol lars, and finally agreeing to-accept one dollar for it, the money was paid and the ring passed to its new and proud owner. This business completed, the two travellers said good-night and departed. Had June Carter been able to read, he would doubtless have inquired what was the meaning of the name " Betty," which was so prettily engraved on the inside of the ring. 
It was near nine o'clock when the murderers left the cabin and took the road in haste for Barce lona, fifteen miles distant. At every sound they halted, squatted in the grass by the roadside, or hid themselves in the bushes until the way was clear. The first five miles were covered within less than an hour, so great was their hurry, but after that they lagged from weariness, having been on their feet all day; and it was one o'clock when they saw the lights of Barcelona. Failure to make a fair division of the spoils was a fruitful source of angry words during the journey, and a serious struggle would have ensued if, at the last moment, Mamie-Lou, who had seized the money in the first place, had not come to terms and surrendered to Riley what the latter regarded as his rightful share. Much to their chagrin, the sum of twenty dollars only was found on their victim, the bulk of the collections having been forwarded by express. 
The sound of music and happy young voices 
 
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arrested their attention as they passed through the quiet streets of the town. The ball at which Jack Sanford had expected to find Betty was still in progress, but some of its gay company was now going home. Riley Martin's impulse was to slink away in the night, particularly after sighting two policemen at the door of the " opera " house; but Mamie-Lou John walked boldly forward, calling upon him to follow. The latter had saved his neck from the halter by his coolness before, and had no intention of letting slip so good an opportudity as this to secure an alibi. 
" Quit crowdin' me, nigger ! " shouted MamieLou, giving his friend a rude push, as they stopped to watch some half-dozen couples streaming out into the night air. 
Riley took the cue and a slight struggle ensued, attracting the attention of all. The crafty MamieLou thus succeeded in catching the eyes of several swallow-tailed young white men who knew him by name. 
" Go on off from here right straight, or you '11 git locked up," ordered one of the policemen, after demanding the cause of their presence " up town " at that hour of the night 
" Who, me? " shouted Mamie-Lou, with a guffaw. " / been to a party." And off they went 
As they separated to go to their respective homes in the Neck, Riley was thus cautioned by his more talented friend : " If you know what's good 
 
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for you, you git up soon in de mornin' an' show yourself. I aim to be up town by daylight myself, an' stand round dat fire in front o' 'Liza Simmons's." 
Riley Martin overslept, but his energetic friend, true to his word, not only exhibited himself on the streets at an early hour next day, but figured among the crowd which pressed forward to get a glimpse of Jack Sanford's body when it was brought from Putnam on the midday train, and transferred from the stretcher to the waiting coffin, amid the horror-stricken whispers of the spectators. 
Before going down town after breakfast that morning Colonel Sanford spent an hour looking through his mail, which consisted of several business letters, a leading Georgia daily news paper, and the latest issue of the London " Satur day Review." The letters were promptly put aside for a fuller examination later on, and the larger portion of the hour was expended on the news paper and the periodical. The room in which he sat was called by the colonel's daughter the library, by his wife the sitting-room, and by the colonel himself his " home office." Its most pro nounced feature was the book-shelves covering two-thirds of the wall space, containing the rem nant of a once comparatively extensive library, or such a portion thereof as still remained after years of depredation on the part of the conscienceless, who borrow and never return. 
It was while the colonel sat tranquilly reading 
 
 THE SONS OF HAM. 
in this student's paradise that a message addressed to him came over the wires from Putnam and was written out in the Barcelona office. Had he sat there ten minutes longer the message, which was promptly sent out for delivery, would have reached him in his own house, but the sudden recollection that he had intended to call at the stricken Law rence home early that morning caused him to drop his papers and hurry off. He found Betty on the Lawrence piazza and sat down there with her, ask ing news of Reba. 
" She bears it as well as couid be expected," the girl told him. " It is very hard for her; she had no one else -- but us." 
"Betty, do you think she is engaged to Rob Morton ?" asked Colonel Sanford, thoughtfully. " I am sure he loves her,, and if he had spoken before this happened, she would not now feel so wretched and alone, -- that is, if she loves him." 
"I don't think they can be engaged," said Betty, quite willing to tell all she knew to her prospec tive father-in-law, who was a familiar friend. " I think she likes him, but I am not sure. She is very reticent." 
" I wish we could have seen them married before this happened," mused the colonel. 
While they were still talking, a negro boy opened the gate and approached, holding a small yellow envelope in his hand. " Dej tole me dey seen you come down yuh," he remarked, delivering it to 
 
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Colonel Sanford. The boy breathed hard, as if he had been running. 
Betty saw that it was a telegram and that it had already been opened. As Colonel Sanford un folded it and absorbed its contents, she observed a sudden convulsive movement of his hands. A glance at his face revealed to her that her friend's soul was occupied with a most intense anguish, and without waiting to be bidden she bent over and read the message. It was then evident that the same intense anguish occupied her own soul. With a low, broken cry she fell on her knees and looked up frantically into the colonel's eyes. A moment later they were clasped in each other's arms, each uttering inarticulate murmurs and desolate sobs. 
" Dey tole me to tell you to come dere," ven tured the negro boy, after waiting uneasily during some moments. " I taken de message to yo' house fust an' Mis' Sanford an' all of 'em read it, an' when I was comin' 'way, Miss Kate she run out atter me an' tole me to go fetch you. She say please hurry up an' come dere right straight, her ma 'bout to go deetracted." 
Colonel Sanford staggered to his feet, kissed Betty on the forehead, and hurried down the steps. Then the girl turned promptly and entered the house, putting out her hands before her as if to feel her way. The negro boy picked tip the telegram which had fallen to the floor, and fol lowed the colonel down the street. 
 
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Miss Black was standing in the photographer's doorway when her honored friend passed by. She offered him a. bright smile, but he did not seem to see her at all, and she observed that he looked ill and staggered slightly at every few steps. She involuntarily stepped into the street and looked after him anxiously; observing which, the negro boy, who still followed, stopped and gave her the telegram to read. A few moments later, almost blinded by her tears, Miss Black was asking leave of absence, and having put on her bonnet, hurried away in the direction of the Sanford home. 
 
A Richmond County farmer, starting at daylight for Putnam, had discovered the body. He also observed the bloody hatchet sticking in Jerry Carter's gate-post and leaped to a conclusion, pausing not to consider that such thoughtlessness on the part of the murderer or murderers was incredible. The alarm soon spread. While the coroner went out from Putnam and took charge of the body, the sheriff and a posse also fared forth and led the old negro and his son to town, regard less of the screams of the wife and mother and the reiterated story of the visit of the two strange negroes the night before. The costly ring on the finger of young Carter at once excited increasing suspicion, and, it being presently identified by a friend of Jack Sanford, the public mind was irrevo cably made up. It was known what business re- 
 
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lation existed between Colonel Sanford and the Carters, and it was now surmised by some and con cluded by others that Jack had been murdered and robbed soon after collecting the rent. 
The two unhappy negroes were forthwith lodged in jail, and it was soon being repeated from mouth to mouth that nothing short of lynching would mete out to them a full measure of punish ment and satisfy an outraged public. 
 
Toward the close of that day, which was so darkened by grief and tragedy for two families in the town, a young man was seen moving about the streets of Barcelona, stopping here and there and unfolding a written paper which he read aloud and then handed around for investigation. The young man was Sam Thomas, and, as a rule, he showed his document, which evidently excited great inter est, to men of his own age and such as he thought suited to the business in hand. 
At length, while standing in conversation with four or five young men, Thomas saw Robert Morton approaching, and, without giving any reason therefor, he surprised his companions by abruptly folding up the paper and putting it into his pocket. 
" I 'm looking for somebody to sit up with me at Colonel Sanford's to-night," said Morton, Jiis eye travelling round the group. 
" I heard John Wellington and Gordon Marshall 
 
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say they were goin* to offer," remarked one of the young men by way of rejoinder. 
" Do you know where they are? >J asked Morton, about to move on. 
Some one answered, and the first who had spoken detained Morton with the question: -- 
" By the way, has Bob seen it? " "What?" 
 
" That letter from the boys in Putnam. Show it to him, Sam. A friend of Sam's sent it over." 
Sam Thomas then produced the paper, and unfolding it gave it to Morton without remark. It ran thus ; -- 
PUTNAM, GEORGIA, Dec. 10, 188-. 
 
If any friends of Mr. Jack Sanford would like to join 
 
us in a neck-tie party, come over to-night on the ten 
 
o'clock train and we will meet you. We will have every 
 
thing arranged. Feeling runs high and we are going to 
 
do it up brown. 
 
HEMP. 
 
" Well, boys," said Morton very gravely, as he folded the letter and returned it to its owner, " I don't know who 's going and who is n't, and I 'm not going to ask. It is none of my business. But I want to tell you what Colonel Sanford said to me not half an hour ago. He said, if I heard any talk of lynching, to say -- from him -- that he would not countenance it, and he hoped his wishes would be respected in the matter. He said he begged the young men of this town not to add to 
 
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207 
 
his misery by lynching two negroes who possibly may prove to be innocent of the murder of his son." 
" Well, if the colonel feels that way, of course-- " began one of the young men, evidently moved by this appeal. 
" He won't feel that way a month from now," interrupted Sam Thomas. " Of course he's all broke up to-day." 
11 I wish you boys would mention to everybody what the colonel says about it," concluded Morton, decisively, omitting Thomas as his eye went round the circle. He then moved on his way, the others lingering to discuss the matter further. 
The message of the stricken father was not with out its effect on a number. Nevertheless a small contingent made ready, went over on the teno'clock train and joined the Putnam forces, and the " neck-tie party " took place in due course. Jerry Carter's gray hairs, his frantic prayers and pro testations of innocence, and the bare possibility of a doubt, induced the lynchers to spare him. The next morning it was known that he had been left in the jail to stand his trial, but that his son hung by the neck close to the spot where Jack Sanford had heaved his last sigh, and that' the bereft wife and mother went about from place to place, wailing piteously and seeking comfort where'there there was none. 
 
 XIV. 
THOSE were sad days which succeeded in three households of Barcelona. Colonel Sanford was not a man to surrender himself to grief and helplessly deplore the calamity which had befallen his house, -- a hopeful striving to recognize a Providence in all the events of life being with him a leading characteristic. Nevertheless the loss of an only son in such an unforeseen and horrible manner was a crushing blow. He staggered beneath the weight of it, but did not fall. He alone in his family maintained a composure, and he outdid his minis tering friends in devising means of diverting his stricken wife and daughters when in the first ago nies of their grief. The news of the unlawful exe cution of the suspected murderer, which reached him promptly, so far from gratifying or comforting him, caused his face to contract in pain as the fear fell on him that innocence might have been offered up in the stead of the guilty, in which case the latter was now escaped beyond detection. 
 
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209 
 
" They ought to have listened to me," he said wearily to Morton. " They assumed a fearful re sponsibility and may live to rue their action. In any case, it was unnecessary, and therefore wholly unjustifiable." 
The other two stricken households were now merged into one. The Lawrence house was shut up, Reba having been induced to go to her aunt's, where a double grief now reigned, the poignancy of the one, however, perhaps in a measure softened through sympathy with the other. On the day after the second funeral Mrs. Brown gave a touch ing account of the two girls, her minister having called. 
" They don't do nothin'," she tearfully asserted, "but sit and cry and put their arms round one 'n other, and then talk a little and then cry again." 
But it was not all crying. Now and then they spoke hopefully of the future state of the mother and lover, of their probable meeting, which had per haps already taken place, and of their life in that new, super-material world which is a logical and necessary complement of the wondrous miracle of creation already visible to our natural eyes. Overhearing this, Mrs. Brown's own heart was mo mentarily eased of much pain, but she shook her head doubtfully as she recalled the teachings of her minister, with which such ideas did not agree. Calling in order to give her consolation, he had told her that the precious dead for which they 
 
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THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
mourned would sleep until the last day, which might be a thousand or a million years hence, -- nobody knew, -- and that finally the dissipated body would again clothe the awakening spirit and the dead would live again. To further comfort her, he stated, in substance, that it was the opinion of some that the bodiless spirit floated about in the air, or ether, in a state of partial or full consciousness, waiting, waiting, through the interminable cycles of time for that deliverance supposed to arrive only after re-conjunction with the vanished body. 
This picture of exquisite torture had been painted for the two sorrowing girls also in former days, but they now refused to contemplate it; with the unperverted perception of hopeful youth, they preferred to remember the visions of poets, and such applicable portions of Holy Writ as lived in their memory. The " To-day shalt thou be with me in paradise," from the Lord's own mouth, was to them an unfailing beam of light transpiercing their cloud of sorrow and pain. 
But at the end of three weeks they both looked wasted and thin, and Mrs. Brown decided that something must be done for them. She consulted with her husband, and it was proposed to send them to visit a relative who lived in Chatham County, by the sea, a change of scene being always the best of medicines. After some coaxing they agreed to go, and Mrs. Brown hurried them off. Thus, by a few weeks spent on a rice plantation by the unfa- 
 
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'211 
 
miliar sea, were they in a measure diverted from their sorrows, returning home much the gainers in health of body and cheerfulness of mind. 
While they were away Reba received a letter which brought sudden bright color into her pale cheeks. She was walking alone on the sands, looking wistfully out over the quivering yellow marshes and the blue leaping ocean, when a negro boy attached to the house ran toward her with a sealed missive bearing the Barcelona post-mark. She knew the chirography at a glance, having re ceived a number of brief notes in the same hand asking the " pleasure of her company " at a ball or for an afternoon drive. As soon as she was alone Reba read this important letter, reread it, and then prolonged her walk far beyond the limits first pro posed, seeing always wherever she looked, out over the marshes or the sea, one image, -- the young man of the sallow face, the square jaw, and the haunting eyes. 
" I have just heard of your departure," he wrote, " and not knowing when you may return, or what may happen, I am unable to resist my desire to communicate with you. I longed to go to you immediately after your great loss, but felt that I had not the right, and since then I have been wait ing, not with the patience of a philosopher, but with the doubts and fears of an unhappy lover, until such time as I could approach you without intruding upon your grief. I think you must have 
 
 THE SONS OF HAAf. 
"seen long ago that I cared for no one but you. For two years past the greatest and most constant ambition of my life has been to make you my wife, and it is my steadfast purpose to win your love if that be possible. I know not how to plead my case, how even to express my feelings, but there is one thing I know, and that is that I love you. I have absolutely no reason to hope that you will ever return my love, and I tremble to think of what your answer may be, but I know that you will be  considerate and kind if you cannot love. For the present all I ask is that you give me time and opportunity in which to try to win you." 
By way of postscript, the following was written: " I asked your mother's permission to address you, and it was granted." 
To this simple, manly love-letter a brief answer was despatched a day or two later. " I thank you for the great compliment involved in your letter," Reba wrote. " In reply I can only say that no woman is ever unwilling to give ' time and oppor tunity' to a man whom she respects and has no reason to dislike. When we return, in a few weeks, my cousin and I will be pleased to receive you at my aunt's." 
The encouragement'that could be read into these lines was certainly of a very moderate nature and there was little to build real hope upon, but the young man to whom they were addressed was made almost deliriously happy on reading them. 
 
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213 
 
To him they meant at the very least that no other man was preferred. Betty had ere this made up her mind that her cousin loved Morton. Suppos ing there were reasonable grounds for this conclu sion, the cause of Reba's epistolary impassivity and reserve, her manifest determination to keep her lover in suspense until a future season, must be sought for in the mysterious and inexplicable operations of the feminine mind. 
On the day after the two girls returned home, Mrs. Blossom and her maid appeared unexpect edly in Barcelona. The Philadelphia lady ex plained to her niece that homesickness had cut short her stay in Jamaica. As long as her nephew, Paul Shepherd, had remained at Kingston, every thing had pleased her, she declared, but later on, when loneliness began to prey upon her, every thing became equally displeasing. A Christmas enlivened only by the remarks of her maid and the nods of a few acquaintances when she drove out, was the finishing touch to the dreary picture, and she had determined to pack up at once and take all the risks of the Northern winter and spring. The weather happened to be particularly fine when she halted to rest in Barcelona, and her proposed stay of a day or two was prolonged to two weeks, during which time she several times came in contact with Reba and Betty, who were now Miss Black's acknowledged friends. Toward the last she twice took Reba and her niece driving. 
 
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7^ SONS OF HAM. 
 
Her interest in the former steadily increased, and she soon determined to act on her nephew's suggestion and invite the girl to visit her in Philadelphia. 
" I want her on my own account as well as on Paul's," she said to her niece. " I am fond of her already. Really it is difficult to understand how a girl could grow up so refined and well-bred, and be in every way so lovely, in the midst of such poverty as you say was hers." 
" 'Blood will tell,' perhaps, as people say here," suggested Miss Black. " It is considered a fine family, and her mother was said to have many accomplishments." 
" Sometimes it ' tells,' and again it does n't," re joined Mrs. Blossom, stroking her prominent nose and reflecting. She was hardly to be called a handsome woman, although distinguished by a strong and pleasing presence. 
" Paul does n't care for ordinary society life in the least," she continued. " He actually shuns it. He has n't shown himself at an Assembly ball in years. But I could see that he was unusually interested in this girl. It was n't her mere beauty, I'm sure. I should like to see him marry a girl of the right sort, and Miss Lawrence impresses me favorably." 
" He would be lucky to get her," declared Miss Black, so irreverently that her aunt was filled with indignation. They were alone in the photogra pher's little parlor, Miss Black at work examining 
 
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215 
 
newly mounted portraits, and Mrs. Blossom stand ing near the street door, looking out. 
" She ought to go now, with me," the latter continued presently. " She needs a change. But what could I do with her, socially, so soon after her mother's death? However, she would be there during Lent." 
" She is n't wearing mourning," said Miss Black. "By the way, I noticed that It is n't possible that she does n't know any better! " 
" Mr. Lawrence objected to it, I believe." " How foolish ! What were his reasons, pray? " " I heard that he said it was the very essence of vulgarity to be continually holding up a sacred private grief to the view of the public, and that is 
what mourning apparel does." " Well, upon my word, I never thought of it in 
that light before," exclaimed Mrs. Blossom, almost as if indignant that such an idea had heretofore been withheld from her. 
Miss Black added that Miss Walton was her authority, she having reported that her uncle had requested his wife and daughter not to wear mourn ing for him. He said the practice had come down from the ancient Pagan world, and was in its very nature more Pagan than Christian. The true Christian being supposed to believe in a blessed future state, nothing but the most consummate selfishness, or the most absolute unbelief, could justify him in mourning indefinitely for the de- 
 
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7V/ ^OVS OF HAM. 
 
 parted friend. Mrs. Blossom remarked that all this sounded very well, but she desired to be told how any respectable person was to carry out such an idea in the face of established custom. " I want to see more of these new friends of yours whom you have elected to love so much," she had said to her niece on the day after her arrival, -- " not only Miss Lawrence and her cousin, but this Colonel Sanford, and especially that young -- Morton ? -- that knight of yours. Francie," she boldly demanded, " are you engaged to him? " "Why, Aunt Mildred! " exclaimed Miss Black, with heightened color. " Did you think that was the reason he acted as he did when I first came here and had no friends? I scarcely know him. He never calls on me." "Oh? Then I misjudged you, Francie, and failed to give him his due. So, then, your ' eyes are opened/ and you sympathize with the poor white brother, and not with the ' poor negro/ con trary to prevailing sentiment and tradition? " " Exactly." " Well, I can't say that I am personally fond of the * poor negro ' myself. He positively sickened me in the West Indies. I 'm glad enough that one-half the pppulation of Philadelphia is not black." A few days later her curiosity was satisfied. She contrived to have Morton presented to her, and engaged him in conversation for half an hour. 
 
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217 
 
11 He may be an excellent young man," she told her niece afterwards, " but he is too stiff, or too haughty, or something. He needs social training. How sallow he is ! But for those strange, those really beautiful eyes, he would be positively ugly. If he only looked more like Paul. He is insigni ficant in comparison." 
At this point of the discussion Miss Black's lip curled, to the intense indignation of her aunt. Colonel Sanford would have laughingly quoted " De gustibus," etc., and Mrs. Blossom herself would have lightly said, " Chacun a* son gout; " but Miss Black allowed her lip to lift itself in scorn, disdain ing words. 
" I really believe you consider him a finer type than Paul! " exclaimed the elder lady, critically surveying her niece. 
" I do," said Miss Black, boldly taking the bit between her teeth; whereupon her aunt's wrath waxed so hot that she would not trust herself to speak. It was evident that her nephew was her idol. The two ladies were driving at the time, a week after Mrs. Blossom's arrival. 
" How I enjoyed those rides I used to take through these pine-woods," said Miss Black anon, breaking the silence. " I never go now." 
" I should suppose so." A few minutes later, turning a bend of the road, they came suddenly upon a phaeton driven by Robert Morton. At his side sat Reba, her face 
 
 218 
 
THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
alive with color, and in her'hands a cluster of the beautiful bell-like yellow jessamines now just beginning to put forth and perfume the woods. Mrs. Blossom forgot her annoyance, so charmed was she by the vision of happy youth which the two presented. Had she known of the letters which they exchanged a few weeks before, she would have readily comprehended that they had now come to a full understanding and pledged themselves to each other; for their faces were suffused with a soft glow, and a tender, indescriba ble light shone in their eyes. Even without know ing anything of this, she was struck by the atmosphere of peace and happiness which seemed to surround them. 
"They look like lovers," she remarked, with surprise, after Reba had bowed and smiled, Morton had lifted his hat, and the phaeton had passed them. 
" Perhaps they are," was Miss Black's slightly constrained answer. 
" I shall invite her to visit me anyhow," Mrs. Blossom continued, after a moment's reflection. " It may not have gone very far yet, and if Paul should really fancy her she will think twice before she refuses him for a young man who has nothing in the world." 
" She will not think twice if she knows and loves Mr. Morton," said Miss Black, with decision. " His poverty will be the last thing she will think of." 
 
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219 
 
" You are as perverse and foolish as your mother was before you," declared the elder lady, severely. " She lost her head about a penniless young man, and as a result of it her daughter is now a working-girl in a photographer's shop. I had more wisdom." 
" My mother has never known actual want, and she has been a happy woman ever since her mar riage," said Miss Black, with flashing eyes. " I 'd far rather be a ' working-girl' and know that she tenderly loved my honored father, than to be rich and know that they hated each other." 
" What do you mean?" exclaimed the elder lady, looking round sharply. 
But a record of the family quarrels, misunder standings, or mistakes, with which these two women were concerned, of a marriage of outward ease and inward heart-burning and regret on the one hand, and another distinguished by much external hard ship and interior happiness, is not within the scope of this brief tale. 
" Really, Francie," said Mrs. Blossom, returning to the subject of Morton, as they were on their way home, " I 'd advise you to be careful. It is unwise for a girl to allow her thoughts to dwell on a young man who pays her no particular atten tions." 
This thrust caused Miss Black to bite her lip and answer haughtily: l< Do not be alarmed. I shall be able to take care of myself." 
 
 THE SOA'S OF HAM. 
The invitation was given and pressed, but for the present, at least, was declined. Reba felt that the eccentric Northern lady, whose liking she re turned, really wished her to go, and did not dismiss the matter as a mere compliment She showed a due appreciation of such unexpected kindness, and readily agreed to the proposal of a correspondence until such time as she might desire to accept the invitation. The recent death of her mother, and the fact that she was without money would have been sufficient ground for her decision, but this was not all. Having of late entered upon a new and great happiness, which any indefinite absence from home would seriously mar, she felt no desire to leave Barcelona. And so her new friend went North without her. 
 
 XV. 
THE January election of municipal officers was a season of no little excitement in Barcelona, and the struggle for the office of mayor especially was hard fought and productive of animosity between the adherents of opposing candidates. There being less than half a dozen white Republicans in the town, and the white voters possessing a safe major ity, the negroes did not put forward a candidate, and as there were two opposing Democratic fac tions, the blacks for the most part sold their votes to the highest bidder, possibly arguing that, the office being beyond their reach, it was only fair that they should have a share of the salary. 
Thus the negro practically holds the balance of power in local elections. But unfortunately it never seems to occur to him to use it in the interest of good government. The prospect of personal gain appears to occupy his whole attention. The can didate who, through his close friends, will pay the highest price for the services of a dozen of the most experienced black " workers," will control 
 
 222 
 
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the election. As for the rank and file -- give a negro a pint of whiskey, or send him to the pollingplace in a carriage, and his vote is secured. Still, there is usually some room left for the display of demagoguery, and the more shameless of the two candidates always poses as the especial friend of the black man. 
Adam Brown did not scruple to appear in this rdle, he being a candidate for re-election. Opposed to him was the best element of the town, with a really respectable candidate, -- one Harvey, a lawyer of ability and known integrity; but intelligence, ability, and integrity unfortunately appeal only to the intelligent and upright, and are everywhere derided by those free American sovereigns who offer their votes for sale. Such qualities are espe cially useless when the contest is complicated, it should rather be said debauched, by the partici pation of a horde of ignorant and venal blacks, whose thoughts and aspirations are apparently scarcely able to rise above the mere bodily senses and appetites. Adam Brown had indeed a white following among the less intelligent class, and among his familiars and beneficiaries, but without the cajoled and purchased vote of the vast majority of the blacks his election would not have been even remotely possible. 
As the circumstances were, it was certain from the outset. All day long his hired carriages were driven through the streets, loaded with semi-tipsy 
 
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and wholly senseless negroes, monarchs for a day, going in state to deposit a purchased ballot. Everywhere his " workers " were active. Here a grinning, dusky sovereign, with a ballot upside down between his fingers and a pint of whiskey in his pocket,-- if not already in his stomach, -- was led forward by the arm. There another, who had greedily sold himself to both sides, was paying the penalty of a public exposure, an opposing " worker " grasping each arm and dragging him back and forth with loud and abusive wrangling. As neither would be disposed to surrender, the only equitable arrangement which could suggest itself to an im partial observer was to divide the guilty sovereign in two, and vote each half. If not this, one contes tant must knock the other down and bolt with the prize'; and indeed such developments were more than once imminent, when the appearance of the police would put an end to the struggle. The saloons were all shut according to law, but the mayor's whiskey had been purchased in advance, stowed away at unseen and convenient distributing points, and now flowed freely among the happy darkies, who shouted, " Hurrah for Brown ! " until the surrounding atmosphere was permeated with a perceptible flavor of alcohol. The opposition, the friends of candidate Harvey, made a determined effort, some of them indeed succumbing to the gen eral demoralization to the extent of making a few indirect bids for the votes of the blacks; but on 
 
 OF HAM. 
the whole they were the sort of men who will sur render before they will stoop too low, and the result was inevitable. 
Among the more quiet negroes who stood about the court-house square in small groups and con versed, Parson Smith and Professor Brice were conspicuous. The parson had been easily and speedily corrupted, but the professor obstinately refused to entertain the overtures of the Brown forces, much to their astonishment and disgust. His attitude was partly due to his superior knowl edge and character, and partly to the influence of Colonel Sanford. In all matters social and political, with the exception of questions involved in national elections, the professor sought instruction from his honored white friend, and was a willing pupil. Only a few days since they had discussed the "com ing election, and Colonel Sanford had eloquently urged it as the duty of every good citizen to sup port the most worthy and capable candidate, re gardless of party, of reward, or the fear of censure. The professor had not failed to be impressed, and being sufficiently astute to perceive that Brown's protestations of especial friendship for the negro were hollow and insincere, he determined on the course above indicated.  
"Who you goin' vote for, Mr. Smith?" asked a young black man, as he joined the group sur rounding the parson and the' schoolmaster. 
-Well, I think I '11 vote for Mr. Brown," said his 
 
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225 
 
Reverence, unconsciously smacking his lips at the recollection of a recent dram. " I ain't got nothin' against him, an' they tell me he 's the friend o' the po' man an' the cullud man." 
" Yas-sir! he's de man to vote for," cried the first speaker, with enthusiasm. " He \villin' to pay for it, you see him so. He got de money an' he willin' to pay it out. I done voted, merself. I wish I could vote 'bout six times mo'. I 'd be willin' to vote eve'y day in de week if dey pay me." 
" He ain't the friend o' the colored man any mo' 'n Harvey is -- not one bit," said the professor, stub bornly. " You listen at all that! Neither one o' 'em is the friend o' the colored man. Colonel Sanford the best friend the colored man got I know of, -- he don't tell us no lies. Adam Brown make out like he do anything for us to-day, but jes' wait tell to-morrow." 
" Den you won't vote for him? " "I voted for Harvey--if you want to know. An' I '11 tell you why: I done it because he's got the most sense an' the most education, an' I believe he 's the most apt to do the right thing for white an' for black. I 'd ruther trust him. You don't see him rushin' round makin' us promises he don't aim to perform. That shows he 's honest. Adam Brown can't pull the wool over my eyes as easy as he can some niggers." " Sorry to see you so sot in yo' mind, Brother Brice," said the parson, shaking his head in dis- 
 
 236 
 
THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
approval. " Colonel Sanford a nice man, I don't dispute it, but it won't do to let him 'suade you too fur." 
" I ruther be persuaded by common-sense 'n by boodle/' retorted the professor. 
" Wut 's dat? " asked one of the by-standers. " Some call it whiskey, some call it spondulix," was the quick response; whereupon there was a laugh from all who saw the point, the parson, how ever, participating only to the extent of a " dry grin." Conspicuous figures on the streets and about the court-house square throughout the day were Mamie-Lou John and Rosetta Hightower, the for mer being one of Mr. Brown's most enthusiastic "workers," and the latter one of the idling black women who stood about in small groups, looked, listened, gossiped, and " rubbed " snurT. Josephine Witherspoon was also frequently to be seen, slowly navigating her large person from one group to another. Cicero had passed from the scene less than six weeks since, and already Josephine was in her third honeymoon and talked gayly of her pres ent " old man." With great hilarity and goodhumor she accosted Sam Thomas on the street, informing him of her new estate and demanding tribute. " I got ma'ied 'way week fo' last," she said, re proachfully, " an' you ain't gim-me nothin' yit." " If I 'd known you were goin' to strike me for a 
 
 THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
227 
 
wedding present/' he retorted, laughing,. " I 'd 'a' dodged you." 
"Would n' 'a' done you no good, 7#'a' caught up wid you," she declared, with a great laugh, bend ing her body and spreading her arms in the extrava gant African shrug, which may be fitly compared with the evolutions of a crab. 
" And so you are married again already? How long has Cicero been an angel, for goodness' sake?" 
" Oh, you hush dat. You got nothin' to do wid dat." She seemed to wish to resent such imperti nence, but laughed in spite of herself. f( Anyhow, you owe me sump'n for tellin' all dat tale to Miss Reba Lawrence." 
" Well, here 's half a dollar," he said, and hav ing delivered a significant threat behind the mask of a smile, passed on. She was made distinctly to understand that if she told any one of their little conspiracy touching Miss Lawrence and Robert Morton, she would be made to pay for those divorce papers which he had drawn up at her request. 
Rosetta was less gay, but she, too, had already consoled herself with another love, the unlawful ness of which appeared to disturb her no more than in the first instance. The present recipient of her favors was none other than the craftyj MamieLou John, who, like Cicero, had a neglected wife in the background. Rosetta was fast becoming reck- 
 
 228 
 
THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
less in more ways than one, as an incident of the election day showed. 
Josephine had collided with the unfortunate Mrs. Simpson within the boundaries of the Neck with absolute impunity, but when Rosetta similarly in sulted a prominent lady on a principal street of Barcelona, she exposed herself to possible conse quences of a serious nature. Among the whites it was a matter perfectly understood that no lady would be seen down town on the day of an election ; but necessity--as was afterwards stated -- had compelled the mother of Robert Morton to break this unwritten law on the present day, and while passing hurriedly through the business quarter she was tempted to halt a moment and look into a shop window. It was then that Rosetta, moved by her hatred for the race in general and for Morton himself in particular, passed rapidly by, deliber ately running against the unwatchful elderly lady and knocking her off her feet so effectually that nothing but the proximity of the wall of the shop prevented her from falling prostrate. 
Rosetta walked on laughing, but a policeman had observed the whole proceeding, which was nothing short of a deliberate assault, and he now promptly arrested the young woman, who attracted much attention as she was led away by her noisy declamation and curses. Within a few squares of the jail, however, the defiant captive was set at liberty, after being warned that if she did not be- 
 
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229 
 
have herself in future she would be put on the chain-gang and made to work the streets. The cause of this unexpected clemency was that the jail was already full of negroes awaiting trial for grave or minor offences as the case might be. 
" Lockin' you niggers up and feedin' you in the winter time is too good for you," declared the officer, in a disgusted tone. " Looks to me like some of you try to get locked up. The chaingang is the only thing to take the starch out of you, and if you don't look out you '11 get your fill of it." 
And so Rosetta returned to the court-house square in triumph. About the middle of the afternoon, or somewhat later, a negro boy sought her with the information that " Cun'l Thomas " desired to see her at his office, and curiosity car ried her thither. All lawyers were gratuitously dubbed " colonel " by the ignorant in Barcelona, greatly to the disgust of such men as Colonel Sanford who had served for their titles on the field of battle. 
Sam Thomas felt jubilant over the now clearly foreshadowed result of the election, but as regards his personal concerns he was rather downhearted. In the race for money he had unquestionably left Morton " 'way behind," as he would have expressed it, but as to prosperity in affairs of love, it was painfully clear that his rival was forging ahead. Certain developments of late, or evidences of them, 
 
 230 
 
THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
had alarmed him, and the conviction forced itself upon him that something decisive must be done, and done promptly, or all was lost. It was such reflections as these which incited him, as he now sat alone in his office, to unlock a drawer, take out an old letter, and begin imitating the chirography therein for perhaps the hundredth time. 
" I 've got it at last," he said aloud, after some minutes of careful effort. "He would n't be able to tell the difference himself, and how could she? " 
''What you want wid me?" demanded Rosetta, appearing in the doorway. 
" Oh, there you are, eh? I want to see you," responded Thomas, being careful to put away the papers on which he had been writing. 
"What fur?" " We '11 come to that directly. What made you slam against Mrs. Morton that way this morning?" " Any yo 1 business? " " Oh, I ain't goin' to quarrel with you about it. I know why you did it. You did it because you hate Bob Morton, and you hate him because he knocked Cicero down and brought him to town that day, -- him and Jim Jones." " Well, if you was so wise, what made you ask me ?" ' Don't be sassy now. I 've got a little proposi tion to make to you. How would you like to make -- well, say a dollar -- and spite Bob Morton at the same time? I thought that would fetch you," 
 
 THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
231 
 
he added, seeing the young woman's eyes leap in her head and her lips involuntarily fall apart. 
" How I goin' do it? " she asked eagerly. " I 'm goin' to put up a little job on him, --just a joke, you know, no real harm in it, -- and you can help it through if-- " He checked himself at the sound of a step on the stair. Going to the door, he saw that it was Colonel Sanford, and, turning, hurriedly dismissed his companion. " I can't tell you about it now," he said softly. " Come again in about an hour, or come to-morrow." " I thought we might take up that Abial Rich ardson matter this afternoon and have done with it," said Colonel Sanford, as he walked heavily from the head of the stairs to the office door, not appearing to observe the retreating figure of Rosetta. " All right, colonel," said Thomas from the doorway, with an air of great importance. " It won't take long, once we put our heads together. This is the first time we Ve been associated on a case, ain't it ? " " Yes," rejoined Colonel Sanford, coolly, as if he trusted it would be the last. He looked older and grayer since the death of his son, and his manner of seating himself showed that he was feebler. " Well, what do you think of the election ?" asked Thomas some time later, when their busi ness was practically completed. 
 
 232 
" I think it is a public scandal." " They tell me Brown is 'way ahead," rejoined the young lawyer, promptly, with a cheerful smile. "I referred to the manner of the election," said Colonel Sanford, an expression of mingled disgust and pain on his face as he lifted his eyes to the portrait of George Washington on the opposite wall, (> but my words are equally applicable to the success of the candidate himself. From your man ner, I should judge that you voted for him." " Yes, sir, I did. Between you and me, colonel, I think Harvey is the man for the place, but I could n't afford to antagonize Brown and his crowd." " In my opinion, a man can afford to do anything that is right," was the curt rejoinder. <( But, you see, I get too much business out of 'em. We Ve got to look out for number one in this world." Colonel Sanford disdained to continue the dis cussion, and there was a pause. (( I wonder what Washington and Jefferson and the other founders of the Republic would say if they could see such an election," he remarked after a few moments. " Sometimes I almost wish our independence had been delayed fifty years, for in that case slavery with us would have come to an end by that act of Parliament in 1833 which caused it to cease in all the British dominions. Thus the South would have been saved from a dis- 
 
 THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
233 
 
astrous war and the terrible financial depression and distressing social evils which followed it. For, not only would the English have voted us the same indemnification awarded the slave-owners in all their colonies, but they would never have per petrated the gigantic mistake of conferring the suffrage suddenly, without preparation or discrimi nation, upon millions of slaves, the vast majority of whom were as incapable of casting an intelli gent vote as their fathers were when they were led down in coffles by their own countrymen to the African coast and s'old. Even now, after twentyfive years of freedom, the vast majority are as unfit to vote as ever. What the end of it all will be no man can foretell." 
" Oh, the nigger is all right as long as you can control his vote," said Thomas, lightly. 
" How are you going to control his vote after he is decidedly in the majority? Either there will be revolution, war, or the most ignorant and profli gate race on the face of the earth will govern the most intelligent. I could give you statistics showing the negro's increase that would startle--" 
" That's easy enough," interrupted Thomas, as lightly as before. " Even when they are in the ma jority it's no trouble at all to control their vote." 
" Do you mean by intimidation?" asked Colonel Sanford, surprised. " I have never seen that done yet, and I have always been inclined to regard the accusation as a campaign lie pure and simple." 
 
 234 
 
THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
" I have no doubt it's been done," said Thomas, confidently, " but I don't believe it ever was neces sary. There are too many other ways of cuttin' down the nigger vote. The poll-tax alone prevents thousands of 'em from votin'. In most Northern Sates the poll-tax is only fifty cents, but we have been wise enough to make it a dollar. When there 's no white man who wants their votes to pay their poll-tax for 'em, lots and cords of niggers will give up voting before they'll pay a dollar for the privi lege. I Ve seen 'em back out many a time. 
" The niggers have a big majority in Carleton, but when I lived there the whites always knew how to manage 'em. They had a separate ballot-box and ballot for every- candidate, and it was the law for every voter, black or white, to walk in by him self and deposit his own vote, and if he put it in the wrong box it could n't be counted. More than three-fourths of the niggers could n't read and of course they put most of their votes in the wrong boxes. To meet this, their managers would take the voters and arrange the ballots between their five fingers, and tell them to put in first this, then that, and so on, beginning at the right or the left ballot-box, as the case might be. This would work for awhile," concluded the young man, with a great laugh, " but the white managers would catch on mighty quick, and go in.and shuffle the boxes, and then there would be more confusion than ever. 
"There are lots of others ways," he continued. 
 
 THE SONS OF HAM. 
" For instance, the law in some places which pro vides that the polls shall be opened at a certain hour or the precinct be thrown out of the election count. I 've known of heavy nigger precincts being thrown out in this way, the white managers being careful to oversleep and open the polling place after the appointed hour." 
" I thank Heaven that no such tactics need to be resorted to in the community in which I live," said Colonel Sanford, gravely; " but I confess that I should regard almost anything as justifiable that would prevent this ignorant, profligate, and im moral people from getting control of our local governments. It must be prevented. But don't you see," he continued, gloomily, " that such ex pedients can work temporarily only? The rank and file of the negroes are learning to read, and learning fast. They don't learn much more, as a rule, but they all seem able to learn that much and to do it quickly. I tell you a serious struggle for supremacy will fall to the lot of our children, per haps to be followed by a struggle for existence later on." 
" Then, all I Ve got to say is, Look out, nigger!" 
"You may be right; in the end he would doubtless go to the wall. The negro has never yet been able to cope with the white man, so far as I know, except in the single instance of Hayti. But what we should do is to take measures to avoid the 
 
 236 
 
THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
inevitable conflict at the outset by colonizing him." ' 
" We might gain by that, but don't you think the negro would lose? In my opinion he 'd become a howling savage in no time." 
" He might lapse into his former state in the course of time, 1 ' said the colonel, reflectively; "there's no telling. The case of Hayti is not encouraging. I was reading Froude on the sub ject of the negro in the West Indies yesterday, and he does not take a hopeful view. He says the result of leaving the negro nature to itself is more and more apparent As long as they were slaves they were docile and partly civilized, but now there is not the slightest sign that the masses are improving either in intelligence or moral habits, and the steady tendency is back toward West Afri can superstitions. Immorality is so -universal that it almost ceases to be regarded as a fault. In spite of schools, missionaries, etc., seventy per cent of the children now born are illegitimate. The young people make experiment of one another before they will enter into any closer connection, and the generality of the people are mere good-natured animals. The similarity is so striking that the reader almost forgets and begins to imagine that the historian is writing of the negro of the South ern States. 
"If our negro should settle in the Congo basin and relapse into the state of some of the African 
 
 THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
237 
 
tribes, it would certainly be the worse for him. Some of the evils found amongor certain tribes are too shocking to be named. The Bushmen regard fratricide as perfectly harmless, and have only one word to signify girl, maiden, and wife. They con sort together like cattle, and the men exchange their women freely. They regard lust and glut tony as the acme of earthly felicity. According to Bastian, in all negro languages the word ' belly' is one of immense importance. Politeness requires that one ask of his neighbor at every meeting if all is well with this organ, and the Kroo negroes assert that it ascends into heaven after death. Accord ing to Campbell, the Bechuanas have less regard for the a^oed than for cattle, leavingo them to die in helpless misery; and their neighbors, the Corannas, expose the old people to wild beasts, -- they being, as they say, no longer of any account, only serving to use up the provisions. Among other tribes, also, the daughter is often said to turn her old mother out of the hut, and sons put their fathers to death with impunity. 
" But this horrible picture of the aborigines is offset by the encouraging reports received from time to time from the Liberia colonists," Colonel Sanford pursued, " and I can't help feeling that the negro might really be better off if left to himself. He constantly furnishes evidence that, in the mass, he absorbs our vices rather than our virtues, and it was surely never intended for the two races to live 
 
 238 
together as one people. At any rate, we Ve got to look out for ourselves and our children. It is a case of sauve quipeut> as with the French after Waterloo. We must shake the old man of the sea from off our back, but, while doing it, let us help him, if we can." 
The colonel cut himself short here, and rose abruptly. He had called on Sam Thomas to do business, not to discuss what his friends called his " hobby; " he regarded it as a useless waste of time to talk seriously to such a man about a question involving no personal gain. 
As he went heavily down the stairs and out upon the sidewalk of manufactured stone, he ob served a young negress hanging about, and recol lected absently that he had seen her before and that her name was Rosetta. Had he looked back a moment later, he would have been made aware that she had disappeared, and, if he had walked more lightly himself, he would doubtless have heard her footsteps as she ascended the stairs. 
When Sam Thomas appeared on the street an hour later it was growing dark, bonfires were be ginning to burn, an addle-pated negro stood on a wagon endeavoring to address a crowd of deriding listeners, and far up and down the street elated black " workers," with some money in their pockets and more alcohol in their brains, staggered here and there, and with a hollow, bought-and-paid-for enthusiasm shouted and shouted again, " H'rah for Brown \ " 
 
 XVI. 
As a matter of course, the result of the election was the source of much congratulation in the Brown household. The mayor never tired of dis cussing the theme, and his wife listened to him with equally unfailing interest, but Betty and Reba were more moderate in their enthusiasm and their expression thereof, each being silently aware that the defeated candidate would have brought more dignity and ability to the position. 
On the afternoon of the day after that of the municipal struggle Adam Brown came home early, and finding the three ladies on the piazza, launched afresh into the story of the contest, introducing new details, rehashing others, and serving up for the second or third time all the complimentary speeches made to him by this friend and that friend, apparently expecting his listeners to show as keen an appetite for the same as he did himself. Betty was the first to weary of this and withdraw, wandering aimlessly out to the wide, tree-embow ered back-yard, and finally seating herself on a 
 
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THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
bench under a crepe myrtle, and entering into conversation with two of her young step-brothers, who were busily stuffing themselves with sugarcane. 
Reba also presently retreated beyond the reach of .the mayor's eloquence, retiring to her room, and engaging herself with a favorite book. Rest and the cessation of the wearing daily anxieties which had been hers for so long; the passing of the acute stage of her grief for the loss of her mother; above all, her arrival at the entrance-court of a new and great happiness, -- were not without their affect on her aoi. oi earance, and she was now a 
more pleasing and lovable object to the eye than 
ever before. 
She was still alone in her room when a knock sounded on the door, rousing her from the absorp tion in her book. Inviting the visitor to enter, -- from her seat, and without laying aside her book, -- the door opened and a flashily dressed and comely young negress appeared. 
" Mis' Brown tole me to step down the entry to yo' do' an' knock, explained the visitor, staring about her at the pleasing objects of the apartment with an air of very great interest. " I come to pay you for that dress yon made for me last fall," she added. 
" Which one was that? Are you -- " 11 My name Rosetta Hightower. Josephine brung de cloth to you." 
 
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241 
 
" Thank you, Rosetta. Better late than never, you know." 
" I' d 'a' paid it befo'," declared Rosetta, with her most amiable manner, stepping forward and put ting several pieces of small silver into the out stretched hand of the young lady, who still sat, her book upside down in her lap, -- " I 'd 'a' paid it 'way yonder before Christmas, but I could n't spare it. Bet you can't guess who gim-me that money/' she added, retreating a step and smiling mysteriously. 
" I don't think I '11 bet," said Reba, lightly. " I suppose you earned it. The best money is that which is honestly earned, don't you think ? " 
" Mr. Bob Morton gim-me that money jes' a while ago," said Rosetta. 
This was not a part of Sam Thomas's " little joke" which had no "real harm in it," but an amplification thereof originating in Rosetta's own fertile brain, and utterly without foundation in fact. Seeing the easy expression of her companion's face suddenly stiffen and become cold and repel lent, her courage failed her and she dared not pro ceed in the direction previously traced out for herself. She acknowledged to herself afterward that there was something about this young white lady as she sat there in silence with that expression on her face, and especially that look in her eyes, which disarmed her, thwarted hef, compelled her to abandon her design. 
"He -- he-e--owed me dat money," she has- 
r6 
 
 242 
 
THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
tened to add, uneasily; " an' I stopped by his office to git it this evenin', an' he gim-me a letter to give to you." (She began to open a reticule which she carried.) " I tole him I was comin' on down h-yuh, an' he said I might jes' as well carry it as for him to hire a boy. An' so he give it to me, an' h-yuh it is." 
As Reba did not put out her hand to take it, the letter, after a moment's hesitation, was dropped on a table near her elbow. She sat quite still as before, the repellent expression still on her face, her eyes fixed steadily on those of the young negress. Rosetta felt more uneasy than ever, and wished to be gone, but halted, recollecting something which she had been particularly instructed to say. 
" He was writin 1 two letters when I went in, an' the other one had Miss Maud St. Clair's name on it. I seen it with my own eyes, an' I can read as good as anybody," she declared, with peculiar emphasis. 
As this gratuitous piece of information was re ceived without comment, Rosetta concluded that there was nothing more that she could say or do. " Well, I must go," she said, with a somewhat baffled air, and surveying the room once more, departed. 
"It is his writing -- his surely," was Reba's thought, as she took up the letter and looked at the superscription, " and yet that girl looked as if she lied in every word. . . . What, then, could 
 
 THE SO.VS OF HAM. 
 
243 
 
he have been writing to Miss Maud St. Clair about, -- if there were two letters as this girl claimed? Now I recollect, he was quite attentive to her at one time, -- several years ago, before I was grown up and when he was very young. But that was long ago." 
The letter, which was opened immediately, was as follows: -- 
 
DEAREST MAUD, -- I write to ask if I may come this 
 
evening. You were cruel to write as vou did. You say 
 
CJ 
 
j 
 
* 
 
that my explanation is not sufficient; then let me come 
 
and add to it. Let me swear before your face that I 
 
love you only, and will always. I freely admit that 
 
I was temporarily fascinated by Miss Reba Lawrence, 
 
and that the circumstances of her sad situation touched 
 
mv heart. * 
 
And as a friend of the familv> .* I felt that I 
 
could not stand altogether aloof after her recent bereave 
 
ment. My attentions meant no more. I beg you to 
 
believe me, and to forgive the past weakness of your 
 
devoted lover, 
 
ROBERT MORTON. 
 
"It does not sound like him, and yet it is cer tainly his writing," thought Reba, in a fever of agitation, as she read the letter through, forgetful that it was not addressed to her. " He was writing to us both, then, and enclosed her letter in my envelope. ... I cannot believe -- it is incredible -- he must have lost his reason ! . . . No, I trust him -- I refuse to believe -- there must be some 
 
 T-' ."** t,^' 
 
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mistake. . . . But -- but do I not know his writ ing? . .- . He loves her, then, and was only * fasci nated ' by me. . . . The ' circumstances ' of my 'sad situation,'--can this refer to our extremity of need, and his assistance through Maum Katie? ... It is a lame plea, and he will have to do more than this to convince her. . . . He is deceiving her. . . . He really prefers me, -- how else could he have persuaded me that he so deeply loved? . . . He -- ah ! can it be for that, -- for that money she has recently inherited? . . . Oh, what base ness! . , . And I have loved that man! . . . Who knows? -- what, after all, if he be fickle and have really changed? In either case it is the same to me. . . . The end has come, -- the end of a bright, foolish dream. . . . Yes, there is no room left for doubt ... I would doubt -- summon him -- speak to him -- if I could. . . . But these are his own words. ... It is true -- oh, it is too true ! " 
And thus, with an indignant, breaking heart, she read the cruel letter again and yet again. 
At nine o'clock the next morning Betty Walton sought her mother and anxiously conferred with her. 
" Something has happened to Reba," she an nounced with a grave face. " I went to her room a little while ago to see why she did n't come to breakfast, and found her lying across the bed in her clothes. I could see that she had passed the night so without moving; the feathers had not been 
 
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pressed down anywhere else. I knew something dreadful was the matter, and I lay down on the bed by her and rubbed her hand, and after a while she whispered, ' Betty,5 like a person too tired to speak, and that was all. I asked her what was the matter, and she said, ' Nothing.' She meant she was not sick; I knew that. I couldn't see her face, but I could feel how it looked. She had the air of a person stunned, bruised, beaten, broken -- I can't describe it! I wanted to push up the shades and let the light in, but she would n't let me." 
" Why, let me go to the po' child," cried Mrs. Brown, overflowing with sympathy and tender ness. 
"I wouldn't -- yet," said Betty. "It's too dreadful for sympathy. She wants to be alone." 
" What do you reckon it is, Betty? " " It may be a quarrel with Robert Morton. But it seems to me it must be worse than that." Two days later the object of their conjectures' himself appeared. He asked for Reba and showed the liveliest concern when told that she had been confined to her room for several days and had tasted no morsel of food. Betty studied his face with all the keen, perceptive scrutiny of a good woman, and was more puzzled than ever. On leav ing, he said that he would call or send every day for news, taking for granted that Betty understood what his relation was with her cousin. 
 
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The next morning Colonel Sanford was the bearer of unexpected good news. He said he had known for some time that the insolvent railroad was adjusting its difficulties, but not until the pre vious day that the stockholders would receive their interest so long overdue. The colonel looked hap pier than Betty had seen him for many a day when he opened his breast pocket-book and produced a check in Reba's name for all unpaid dividends. 
This news seemed to produce a remarkable effect on the stricken girl, for an hour after her cousin had informed her she rose from her bed and let the light into the darkened place. Early in the after noon, hearing continued movements in the room, Betty knocked at the door and was invited to enter. She saw at once that Reba had recovered her spirit; she looked older, paler, thinner, Bettythought, but there was firmness in her step and fire in her eye. 
" I have written to Mrs. Blossom proposing to visit her at once," she immediately announced, " and I expect to start as soon as I receive an answer." 
" Reba Lawrence ! " exclaimed Betty, helplessly. " I hope Aunt Matilda won't object, because I am determined." Betty felt hurt at being left out of her cousin's confidence, -- for the first time, as she thought, -- and contented herself with saying, after a pause: " And what will he say? He was here yesterday." 
 
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"That is why I am going," was the reply, with a trembling lip. " Oh, Betty," -- they were in each other's arms now, -- "I am so miserable. Only a week ago I told you that we were engaged, and already -- already I -- I have discovered that -- that it ought never to have been -- that I -- that I don't -- trust him -- don't love him." 
"Reba!" 
This explanation did not satisfy Betty, and she subjected her cousin's face to the most piercing scrutiny. "But you are going to explain to him?" she said finally. 
" Yes. I can't see him, but I will write." Betty ended another pause by asking: 4i But how on earth can you get ready? You have no clothes ready." " I want the dressmaker to come to-morrow. I have some money now, you know. I '11 have one dress made, and the rest can be done in Philadelphia." " He '11 probably come to-morrow and inquire about you. What shall I ten him ? " " Nothing." " Have you decided how you will have your dress made ? " " No, not yet." " Then you don't want him to know you are going ?" " No -- no -- not till I write to him. And please help me, Betty, with Aunt Matilda, who 
 
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will object of course. For really I must go at once." 
" I will, dearie, and I '11 help you plan your dress. I don't quite understand all this, but I '11 help you in every way I can. I see you are terri bly in earnest." 
Seated in his office a week later, endeavoring to work, but accomplishing little because tormented with thoughts of Reba, her strange malady, and the inevitable misgivings of an ardent lover, Rob ert Morton was handed a note by a negro boy, who retired without waiting for an answer. He saw at a glance that it was from Reba, and opened it in .great haste. 
" I have come to see that our engagement was a mistake," she wrote, " and that it will be better for us both if it be immediately dissolved. In imagining and admitting that I loved you, I fear that I deceived both you and myself. Fortunately I see more clearly now. I therefore ask to be released, and that everything be considered at an end between us henceforth." 
Five minutes later Morton rushed out of his office and lost himself in the streets of the town, wandering he scarcely knew whither and seeing only his perplexity and pain. The aspect of the whole world seemed to have changed. The very voice of the gay birds was mournful and the bril liant sunshine a ghastly,- inexplicable mockery. For him, and for the time, the world had practi- 
 
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cally come to an end and chaos reigned. He first strayed out beyond the suburbs, but returning an hour or more later, mechanically directed his steps toward the railway station, oblivious of the strag gling professional loafers preceding and following 
him. The latter, who might with propriety be called sta 
tionary tramps, being distinguished by all the char acteristics of their peregrinating brother, with the notable exception of the love of travel, were now shifting their basis in order to witness the arrival of the express train. These worthies were habitu ally much averse to exertion of any kind, but at the appointed hour always forsook their "up town " haunts and submitted themselves to the inconvenience of walking three hundred yards in order to observe the crowrd, the bustle, and com motion, to gaze with ever renewed interest upon the puffing locomotive, and perhaps to wonder at the energy of steam. In general appearance, ex cept that the majority of them were negroes, they much resembled those seedy specimens of mascu line humanity who in spring and summer haunt the squares in Northern cities, sitting languidly on the wooden benches and staring vacantly before them. The latter specimen has the advantage of the " bracing" climate, but in his own person does not seem to exhibit any corresponding superiority. 
The express train was late and the loafers dis posed themselves about the long platform of the 
 
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station-house in sullen silence, too much effort being involved in any adequate expression of the annoyance which they felt at being obliged to wait. Others were impatient as well. Eight or ten negro children looked anxiously up and down the rail road and when the train finally appeared they showed their beautiful teeth in the rapturous cry, " Yawnder she come \ " These little rag-a-muffins, dressed in odds and ends patched, torn, and black ened almost to the hue of their skins, were profes sionals, too, but not loafers. They were minstrels, and came to sing under the windows of the passen ger-cars. During the fall and winter, when North erners were passing on their way to or returning from Florida, they gathered a harvest of pennies, nickels, and dimes not to be despised, but in spring and summer the business declined, the pas sengers on board being usually from parts of the country where singing negroes were as common as mocking-birds. 
Morton had scarcely devoted more than a glance to these or other juvenile minstrels heretofore, but to-day as he stood on the platform waiting he knew not for what, his restless eyes, which for the most part saw nothing but the inward pain, now and then lighted upon them and lingered until they were clearly outlined and their voices were heard. Their very laughter seemed sad to him, and there was an unspeakable pathos in their movements, as they hopped about like birds on a frosty morning, and looked hungrily down the vacant railroad. 
 
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Across the way from the station was a rambling frame hotel, and on its broad veranda were seated several sojourners lazily watching an Italian with hand-organ and tiny monkey on the frost-bitten grass in front. The poor little red-jacketed beast skipped about tremblingly, as if in mortal terror of its swarthy master, and, receiving his com mands, began climbing up one of the veranda columns to the balcony above, where some ladies were looking down. For this was a novelty in Barcelona as yet, while the little negro minstrels were commonplace ir. the extreme. The latter may have been aware of this, but all envy of the rival combination was swallowed up in wonder and pleasure, and not even the most commercial per haps found time to speculate on the possible ad vantage of having a marmoset of his own to send into the car window after pennies. They indeed forgot their own concerns in the intensity of their interest, as the Italian, after gazing hungrily at all the upper windows, drew in the line, and the trem bling little monkey delivered to its master a dime. Morton saw all this as through a mist, and every movement or sound was to him the futile expres sion of an inward despair. The hand-organ was " cracked " and out of tune, its notes resembling the broken and quavering tones of an old man tot tering on the brink of the grave, and when the giddy Fishers' Hornpipe was turned off, and the hackneyed but always touching " Ah che la morte " 
 
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of the Trovatore was turned on, it seemed to one listener that the sound which floated on the air expressed the condensed, insufferable anguish of a thousand worlds. 
This mellifluous misery was presently cut short, being drowned in the roar of the arriving train. Commotion began in the station, clerks rushed out of the baggage office, and the loafers pricked up their ears, looking as if they took an interest in life once more. The little black minstrels took their places and did not wait for the roar to subside before they began lustily to shout, rather than to sing, while running along beneath the windows of the moving sleeping-car. At length there was comparative quiet, and the monotonous repetition of their brief strain could be distinctly heard: 
 
" I belong to de ban', I belong to de ban1 , I belong to de ban', Halleloo! " 
 
A coin was presently tossed out, striking one of them on the head and rebounding into a puddle of water left by a recent rain. Then down on their hands and knees and into the water they went, one and all, shouting and scrambling and splashing, until the lucky one found and gripped the coin in a vise, whereupon they were all on their feet in a moment and lustily singing again. To the occu pants of the car this was very funny, and another 
 
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coin was tossed into the puddle in order to cause the scramble to be repeated, but the observer from the platform saw in it only a suggestion of the wan and sickly smile which may cover desperation and unutterable grief. 
A carriage drove up in haste, two ladies were assisted out of it, and a few moments later Reba's pale face was suddenly outlined before Morton's absent eyes. With a convulsive movement of the heart, a stopping of breath, a paralysis of hand and tongue, he became aware that she was being assisted upon the already moving train. It seemed to him that he cried out to her, with outstretched hands, as in the first moment he longed to do, but he stood as immovable as the platform itself while the train moved slowly away. 
 
 XVII. 
MRS. BLOSSOM had despatched a prompt and carefully worded reply to Reba's letter, and the latter felt relieved of any uneasiness respecting the nature of her reception; but after her hurried flight from Barcelona was accomplished, and her dread of meeting Morton was removed, the unhappy girl had leisure to reflect upon the precipitancy of her action, and during the journey, as often as her thoughts were diverted from the one great and absorbing interest of her life, she became a prey to apprehension. Immediately upon her arrival in Philadelphia, however, her doubts were set at rest, the welcome extended to her being most cor dial and genuine ; and the new and agreeable phase of life to which she was now introduced soon fur nished that diversion so needed by one in her state of mind. 
She found that Mrs. Blossom's mode of life was more luxurious and aristocratic than she had had reason to suppose. Though scarcely to be called attractive from without, the house was situated in 
 
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the heart of the fashionable quarter, and was filled with rare and costly, but tasteful and not overpowering collections of bibelots, pictures, and eccentricities of decoration and furniture, the " gimcracks," to employ the language of the irre verent, having been gathered from the four quarters of the world. A liveried Irish flunkey stood in the hall, two stately, silent, black men in evening dress served in the dining-room, and besides coach man, footman, and cook, the establishment boasted a superfluity of maids, French and otherwise. All this in the house of a childless couple struck Reba with amazement, and she involuntarily contrasted such luxury with the narrow and painfully strait ened existence to which she and her mother had so long been accustomed. She thought her new friend must live a life of lonely magnificence indeed, but for the guests who came and went so often; for Mr. Blossom, with whom Reba never became well acquainted, was seen in the house but little. Indeed, the visitor soon suspected the ex istence of a coldness between him and his wife, as otherwise it appeared unlikely that he would spend every entire day in business speculations, rarely returning even to dinner, and his evenings at his club or elsewhere, leaving his wife to receive her 
guests alone. Reba thought these guests for the most part 
delightful people, but amazingly unlike the human specimen she had expected to encounter. From 
 
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what she had read of the popular literature of the Northern States she had derived a fixed idea that even the wealthy and most highly cultured classes there were nothing if not democratic in all their in stincts, that the feeling of caste was practically un known, although, as a matter of course, every one reserved the right to select his own associates, and that matters of ancestry, barring the case of mettle some horses, could be mentioned only in secluded corners and with bated breath, except at the fear ful risk of being covered with ridicule, even as was now more and more the case in much-mixed Barcelona, where the triumphant bottom rail was on top. Her surprise amounted to astonishment, therefore, after her introduction to the " old Phila delphia families," among the representatives of which element Mrs. Blossom counted her friends. Here, she found, the query, " Who was your fath er?" was of equal if not greater importance than in Virginia and certain quarters farther south, and the question of genealogy was as much a matter of course as the multiplication-table. Indeed, the doors of this society were as irrevocably closed against the n&uveaux-riches, or other aspirants with no background in the past, as was ever the en trance to the inne"r sanctuary of the old-time Southerner, who counted his ten generations and his hundred cousins. 
Reba did not spend her days listening to the history of near and remote relationships, however. 
 
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She saw a great deal of life, for one who hereto fore had seen so little. The season of Lent, as well as her recent bereavement, imposed restric tions on her social experience, but Mrs. Blossom saw to it that she was present at many quiet dinners and gatherings, where persons distinguished for more than blue blood were sometimes to be met 
In the course of her visit Reba made the acquaint ance of a few statesmen, poets, and authors whose names had been familiar to her for years, although the majority of these were not residents of Phila delphia, and while listening to polite speeches from their lips was still sufficiently mistress of her self to observe that they were, after all, very much like the average undistinguished person of the intelligent class. Mrs. Blossom being both literary and musical, her young guest was accordingly taken to the meetings of a Browning society that she might hear the enigmas of a cult-producing poet expounded ; to the Contemporary Club gather ings that she might hear disquisitions from learned and famous professors on scientific and literary subjects; to a reform club where questions of local importance were discussed, Mr. Paul Shepherd taking an active part; to an "Orpheus" club in order to hear a remarkable chorus of young men; besides public lectures, the opera, theatre, etc. 
In the latter, the opera especially, Reba at first took more interest than in the doings of society itself, as a consequence of her possession of a 
17 
 
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very keen appreciation of music and of having been able to gratify her love of it but little hereto fore. She was not critical, but her naturally correct dramatic instincts received an unmistakable shock on beholding a lyric artist of the Italian school come twice out of a tomb after life was sup posed to be extinct, in order to repeat her aria in response to an enthusiastic encore. Mrs. Blossom smiled at the inexperienced girl's objection to these conventionalities of the operatic stage, but Mr. Shepherd, who visited the house constantly and often acted as the escort of the two ladies, heartily agreed with her that mere concert in cos tume was not true opera. He declared that when, in the last scene of Semiramide, the queen is stabbed by mistake in the dark, she ought to act is if really stabbed, and ought to fall, regardless of a dirty stage floor and a handsome gown; that when, with a musical shriek, she spreads herself out comfortably on a cushion which by no sort of chance could have been ready in the dark before that tomb, the illusion, but faint at best, is utterly dispelled; hero, heroine, villain and all the para phernalia of Babylonian court life disappear, and nothing is left but the Academy stage and a few masquerading Italians, with the high-priced Patti in the centre enjoying her mock death on an im possible cushion. It was not until she witnessed presentations of Siegfried, Tannhauser, and Lohen grin, with leading German singers in the cast, who 
 
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acted with as much energy and intelligence as they sang, did Reba feel that she had seen real opera. 
Her unusual interest in music was occasioned by something more than the mere desire of gratifying her delight in it. Within three weeks after her departure from Barcelona she had begun to think seriously of a musical career for herself, having proposed in mind such a plan after much anxious thought concerning her future. For she now believed that she would never marry, that she could not be dependent on her aunt or live per manently in the house of Adam Brown, and that she must have employment, both because her income was narrow and because she had no desire for an idle life. When her visit was at an end, instead of returning home, although homesick already, she determined to find a boarding-place and prosecute her musical studies under a master, and, before her purse was quite empty, engage Colonel Sanford to sell the railroad shares. If nothing more were accomplished, she might at least, return to Barcelona and teach music. But she did not wish to return to Barcelona, and hoped to accomplish more. The operas and concerts of the higher class which she had enjoyed of late stirred her deeply with a love of song and she dreamily pictured to herself the 1 possible career of a singer. 
Up to the date of her father's death she had received regular instruction in music, and had 
 
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r- 
been celebrated for the unusual beauty of her voice within the small circle of her friends. More culti vated musically than these, however, were her new friends; and she wondered and doubted if their verdict would be favorable. To test the matter, partly so at least, while alone with Mrs. Blossom one day she seated herself at the piano unasked, and after playing a few chords, sang one stanza of the simplest song she knew with all the feeling and quality of tone of which she was capable, afterwards rising and moving away indifferently. 
"Why--why didn't you tell me you could sing?" asked Mrs. Blossom, with great interest, her eye-glasses tumbling from their perch on the bridge of her prominent nose. 
" Do you think I really can? " "Do I think you 'can'? Your voice is beau* tiful" Then Reba confessed her plans, hopes and fears. They were ere this on quite intimate terms. , At the outset Mrs. Blossom had been outspoken and ready with friendly counsel. " You have been well brought up," she said on the day after Reba's arri val. " Your people were evidently the right sort, and did their duty by you. I shall not be afraid for you in any position likely to be yours here; but you have seen little of society, and I must give you some practical -hints." And the hints were .given from time to time, and taken with becoming gratitude. Reba was now the more ready, there- 
 
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fore to avow her aspirations. Mrs. Blossom lis tened with astonishment. 
" That is quite another matter," she remarked, at last " Of course I meant that your voice was beautiful for an amateur, --just the thing for sing ing to one's friends in a parlor." 
*' I was not confident," faltered Reba. Her face had fallen now. " I thought I might at least teach music." 
" Nobody can tell," said Mrs. Blossom then, unexpectedly. " Your voice might he built up. It could hardly be more sympathetic and sweet, and it might be made stronger and louder by proper training." 
" I thought of going to see a professor," ventured Reba, more encouraged. 
" Yes, and I '11 invite some musical people here, and we can find out what they think. But your friends in Barcelona would not like to see you go on the stage, I know, nor should I," added Mrs. Blossom gravely. 
" They would be horrified," said Reba, with con viction. " But I had only thought of concerts, and that is not quite the stage." 
" There is a slight difference, but -- but you are a girl who ought to marry, Reba." 
" I 'm sure I never shall." " That is absurd. You cannot fail to have good offers. I know a young man who is already un usually interested in you. It was partly on his 
 
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account that I invited you to visit me, -- because I saw that he fancied you. I speak of my nephew, Paul" 
" Oh, Mrs. Blossom ! if you really think -- " " I may be too hasty," said the elder lady, with solemnity, " and I should not have spoken but for this unexpected plan of yours. After that I felt that you ought to know. He really is not very sus ceptible, and it may not go as far as I hope it will, -- and, by the way, it is not every girl that I would deliberately advise to set her cap for my nephew, -- but if it should, you couldn't do better, child." " I am flattered that you should wish it," faltered Reba, astonished, " and I do admire him, but-- " u He is fine-looking, he has an independent for tune, he is not absorbed in what he calls the triv ialities of society, he has ideals, and is one of the most honorable of men. What more could any girl desire ? " " Love," said Reba, solemnly. u Any girl could learn to love such a man." "Do you really think so, Mrs. Blossom? " the girl asked, looking directly into her friend's eyes. " Certainly." " The poets have been deceiving the world for ages, then." '* Nonsense. I enjoy a good love-story as much as anybody, but real life is different. " The love the poets describe is pure fancy, my dear. Where a 
 
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little of it does exist, or seems to, it soon wears 
off." Reba thought, from all the indications, that it 
must have worn off very promptly in Mrs. Blos som's own case, and wondered if a woman whose experience had been such was really in a position 
to judge. As had been intended and as was but natural, 
this conversation was the source of serious reflec tion on Reba's part, reflection made poignant by uncontrollable recollections of the past. A tall form, a thin, sallow face and firm jaw, beautiful^ haunting eyes, courage, manliness, integrity, were elements in the picture which would rise up before her in spite of her efforts to forget it, in spite of her belief that the Morton of the picture was not the true one. It was perfectly clear to her that Paul Shepherd would be everywhere regarded as a desirable suitor, but as for herself, not even in the most mercenary of moods could she so regard him -- for a long while to come, at least. His' appearance, his manners, his ideas, were all pleas ing to her, and she felt that she could trust him, and yet she reflected and reflected again, only to shake her head. 
He displeased her only in one way, and that was not a personal matter, and she did not lay it up against him. Mr. Shepherd owned a large interest in a prominent newspaper of the city, and did some active work in connection with it, -- she never knew 
 
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exactly what; and this newspaper, she observed, criticised almost every act of the first Democratic administration which the country had seen for a quarter of a century. Reba had no clear grasp of political questions, but as a matter of course thought her old friends in the South were right and these new friends were wrong, and that the party in power deserved its success, well remem bering what great joy was manifested after the election by everybody in Barcelona except the poor deluded negroes, many of whom supposed that the change meant their return to slavery. And so, while heartily approving of Mr. Shepherd in every personal way, she still more heartily disapproved of his paper. 
The subject came up between them once in a casual way, and after some good-humored sparring, he took pains to make her understand his position. 
" So far as I am concerned, at least, and so far indeed as any of my friends are concerned," he assured her, "the enmity toward the South is no longer personal, but political. The South exer cises a preponderating influence in the Demo cratic party, -- it apparently does not, but it really does, -- and the principles and proposed reforms of that party are not such as we can sympathize with. Therefore we criticise." 
" But you are a reformer yourself," she said. " I liked the ideas you expressed in your speech at that reform club meeting." 
 
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"Thank you. Yes, I am a reformer in my own small way, I hate public abuse of power; I scorn the mere partisan who stands for a certain party simply for party's sake and nothing else; I think dishonesty in politics is even more criminal than dishonesty in private life, and should be more rigo rously punished; I detest what is called the spoils system; there are many abuses which I should like to see stamped out, not only in national politics, but in the government of my own State and city. But people differ, you see, and there are reforms and reforms. Those advocated by the party now in power at Washington appear to me to be the result of a superficial study of the public needs and to be based on fallacies; therefore they are calculated to do harm. I think you see what I mean." 
"I do, and I think you are right -- from your standpoint," said Reba, heartily. " My father, I remember, always said that a man must act accord ing to his own convictions, but at the same time be willing for those differing with him to exercise a like privilege. I shall think of your paper's criti cism in a different way hereafter." 
" As to the negro question," he told her later, " I am inclined to sympathize with the opinions of your friends, or those of Colonel Sanford, so far as I have heard him express himself. But I doubt if there be much hope for his scheme for some years to come." 
 
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" I don't think he has much hope himself," said Reba. 
" The trouble is, the negro question is still too much involved in politics. And then, on account of the ante-bellum sympathy for the slave, and the post-bellum sympathy for the freedman be lieved to be ill-treated, as well as on account of sentimental illusions in regard to the character of the black man which have formed a part of our early education, we Northerners instinctively take the side of the negro. When the question shall have successfully shaken itself loose from politics, if the time ever comes, then the whole country  may be willing to take it up and consider it on its own merits. Then perhaps it may be possible for the colonel's scheme to be developed and accomplished." 
On the day after the conversation with Mrs. Blossom outlined above, Reba received a long letter from Betty which temporarily obliterated from her mind all thought of her prospective newsuitor, but caused her later to reflect upon the matter more seriously than ever. After detailing household news and making some reference to what Reba had written about her experiences in Philadelphia, Betty touched on the subject of Morton. " He has not been near us since you left," she wrote. " Mamma and I feel rather hurt, considering that he formerly came so often. I think he must have been dreadfully cut up by 
 
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your letter. I have only seen him once and he looked miserable; I never saw him look so. He was sitting on the St. Glairs' piazza the other after noon when we drove by. Maud was not there. He was talking with John St. Clair. By the way, he asked papa for your address yesterday." 
There was no mistake, then. The vague, fugi tive hope which Reba detected in her heart now and then that there was something wrong, that her idol had not fallen, that that horrible, villanous letter might be explained, was only weakness and folly which should be determinedly shunned. He was now visiting Miss St. Clair as a matter of course ; and if he looked miserable, it was because his chills had returned -- nothing more. Never theless, when, on the following day, his own letter was handed to her, Reba opened it with trembling hands. 
" Your letter was received more than three weeks ago," he wrote, " and I beg to apologize for not answering before. My excuse is that only now have I obtained your address, and that at first I was too occupied with surprise to think of asking1 for it. I was like one struck dumb and blind and did not know what to do, but the less said of that the better. You say that you have discovered that you were deceiving yourself, and you ask to be re leased. Although this change was so sudden and unexpected, I have no right to blame you or to feel resentment, and I do not. As for myself, I wish I 
 
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could change as easily. I fear that I can never change, but I freely release you. God bless you and good-by ! " 
This letter, which was far more suggestive of the sad farewell of a breaking heart than the courteous response of a fickle lover glad to be released ; aroused feelings in Reba which she acknowledged with abject humiliation and terror. She told her self that it was well she had run away, for this man could persuade her even in the face of proofs, -- this ruin of the noblest of men. In spite of her struggles, she recalled and dwelt upon the many qualities she had formerly admired in him. How strangely conflicting must be the elements of his character! -- for she had had reason to know how he once scorned dishonesty, deceit, sycophancy^ mercenary motives, and self-seeking in general; she had always expected him to develop into such a man as Colonel Sanford, and even his superior. 
But what could be meant by such expressions as "struck blind and dumb," "can never change," coming from a man who had avow*ed his love for and was paying court to another woman, unless they were written purposely to deceive and from a desire to appear consistent and honorable? Could it be that he had not yet discovered his error in sending her Miss St.'Glair's letter? Or was the error only a seeming one, and a part of his plan to obtain his release? Bewildered amid such vain 
 
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speculation, and humiliated by the consciousness of her own weakness, Reba put Morton's letter away and hurriedly sought companionship and diver sion ; and during several days Mrs. Blossom observed that she seemed troubled and absent in mind. 
 
 XVIII. 
THE musical people came by appointment a few days later, each prepared to contribute to the evening's entertainment. There were not more than a dozen of them altogether, and the majority were either wholly or semi-professional. They were not members of (l society," but were all per sonally known to Mrs. Blossom. First in impor tance was Signor Blondinera, an insignificant-look ing little man, who enjoyed the highest reputation as a music-master of the Italian school. After him ranked a lady whose name was sometimes printed on local concert programmes as " prima donna contralto," and after her a young man somewhat less distinguished as a tenor. Among the nonprofessionals were a Dr. and Mrs. Kolbe, cele brated for their  devotion to the great German masters, and a young lady pianist of unusual talent. 
Signor Blondinera ''opened the ball," playing an exceedingly erratic and florid composition, which 
 
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he was prevailed on to acknowledge as a "trifle" of his own. The prima donna then sang an effec tive contralto solo passage from one of Verdi's operas, and a simple English song in response to an encore. The lady pianist gave a stirring ren dition of a Chopin nocturne, and was followed by the tenor in some beautiful selections from Lohengrin, After a recess the German doctor and his wife sang a Mendelssohn duet, and played together a severely classical selection from Brahms. Everybody applauded after the last, but it was probable that nobody understood it but the Kolbes themselves, who smilingly declared that they had played it together every night for seven years. Italian courtesy compelled the great Blondinera to applaud, but a composition so quiet and profound was unintelligible to him, being quite antipodal to the fire and glow of the beloved music of his native land. 
Reba's turn came last. Full of dread in advance, she was surprised to find herself so self-possessed when the moment arrived. Mrs. Blossom had chosen for her a simple lullaby of Mendelssohn's, and the girl now sung it very sweetly, with appar ent ease and without affectation. When it was over she was made very happy, for the moment, on discovering that she had pleased these critical people. It was clear that the applause and the ex pressions of gratification were genuine. Even the professionals were generous of their praise. 
 
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" I told you once that you had the true dramatic instinct," said Mr. Shepherd, who had appeared in time to hear her song. " Now let me add that I think you have the true musical instinct as well." 
" If I had your voice I 'd do nothing but study music," said Dr. Kolbe, and poor Reba's inexperi ence led her to believe that all this meant a great deal more than was intended. 
Signer Blondinera said nothing to her, but at eleven o'clock when coffee and light refreshment were served, as he sat apart with Mrs. Blossom he looked now and then toward Reba as if she occu pied his attention. 
"I tell-a to you her voice will-a be good," he was saying. " T is sweet, 'tis r-rich, 'tis r-round; myself, I did enjoy to hear it." 
" I am glad you did. I wanted you to hear her. Do you think she could make a successful singer? " 
" Such a voice, it is at once successful. Certainlee." 
" But I mean, -- as a public singer." The maestro shrugged, and Mrs. Blossom saw that she would receive no direct or satisfactory' answer to this question. " Who can-a tell ? " he remarked. " The voice, 't is char-r-ming most certainlee." " You don't think she could become a rival of 
* 
the greatest singers, then, -- Patti, for instance?" laughed Mrs. Blossom. 
 
-\ 
 
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273 
 
The Italian started, smiled, and elevated his eyes heavenward. Was it Patti who had been re ferred to? -- Patti the divine, the incomparable! " Madame," he said, excitedly, careless of his use of that horrible English which he had tried so hard to learn, " dere eez but de one Patti in de wor-r-ld, -- de one prima donna what git five tousand dollah de night! " 
Before taking their afternoon drive in the park the next day Mrs. Blossom stopped with Reba at the houses of several 'professors of vocal culture.' The first was a German, Franz Meissner by name, a heavy, thickset man, with dark, restless eyes, who shocked his callers by receiving them in dressinggown, slippers, and a collar which appeared to have been worn two weeks. Reflecting that this was perhaps the eccentricity of genius, they felt in clined to forgive all but the last item. Mrs. Blos som stated that her companion thought of a singer's career, and they would like him to try her voice; Signor Blondinera had heard it and ad mired it greatly. 
"Blondinera -- piff!" ejaculated Herr Meissner with a shrug so gigantic that he seemed in danger of dislocating his neck. "Blondinera, eh?" his expression seemed to repeat, -- " that miserable Italian who tinkered at music ! Come, let us see," he said aloud, and led the way to the piano. 
Striking a few chords, he half lost himself in a revery over them, then rousing himself he put a 
18 
 
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sheet of music against the rack and called upon Reba to sing. It happened to be something with which she was familiar and she sang without hesitation. 
" She duss not know how to open her mouth," he announced, stopping abruptly in the middle of the piece. " She vill have to vork, vork, vork." 
" But what do you think of the quality of her voice?" 
" Her voice is goot, but it iss not str-rong." " Mr. Blondiriera thinks he can build it up," ventured Mrs. Blossom. " Built it up, -- Blondinera? " cried the German. " He vill built it up so foolish ass he can. Young laity" -- turning to Reba, -- "if you vill come to me andt vill vork, I vill teasch you to sing." " Do you think she could succeed as a public singer?" insisted Mrs. Blossom. " She can do anyt'ing if she vill vork," -- after another mighty shrug. They next called upon a lady teacher, an American, who indulged in much flattery, promis ing great things for " such a voice," -- at once exciting suspicion of insincerity. Mrs. Blossom led Reba back to the carriage without waste of time. "American teachers are best," they were confi dently assured, as they moved to go. " There is too much affectation about these foreign teachers." 
 
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" The safest plan would be, I think, to go to the one who promised the least," said Mrs. Blossom as they drove on toward Fairmount Park. " I don't trust this woman. As to the others, it is a ques tion which one was the more guarded, the Italian or the German." 
Reba unhesitatingly declared that she personally preferred the former, and her friend agreed, adding: " That conceited, vulgar German may be more thorough, but how could you endure him? Blondinera is much more respectable." 
A few minutes later their attention was attracted to the following legend in a window which they were passing, " Signor Wilkini, Teacher of Singing and Piano," and the coachman was told to stop. Mrs. Blossom did not know of this instructor by reputation, but proposed to call on him by way of experiment An agreeable-looking gray-haired lady opened the door and ushered them into the parlor, where, after a few moments, the supposed Italian appeared, -- rather a young man, not in the least foreign, and speaking without accent. 
" Are you Signor Wilkini? " " At your service. You are thinking that I have the appearance of an American, and perhaps you are right. Most of my life has been spent in this country, although I am an Italian." " Ah? Well, we wanted to -- " and Airs. Blos som explained. Reba's voice was again tried, and this time most 
 
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recklessly flattered. It was a remarkable voice; yes, indeed. Such a voice was bound to find its way to the stage. He inquired if the young lady had studied dramatic action; she should do so by all means. He taught this as well as vocal culture. 
" Do you really think she could succeed on the stage ? " 
tf Yes, indeed," declared Signer Wilkini, with enthusiasm. " To get started would be the only difficulty. But I could arrange that. An opening is easily managed by one of the initiated, you know. I gave one of my young lady pupils a brilliant start last fall. She was only studying dramatic action, however. I got her in at one theatre to go on in a minor part for nothing, and she made a pleasant impression. And while it lasted -- while it lasted, mind you -- I went to an other manager and told him that she was getting fifty dollars a week, but that I would prefer to have her in his company for less. He wanted another lady, and we finally came to terms at forty dollars; and so I started her off at a salary of forty dollars a week through just a little business diplo macy, you see." 
The two ladies exchanged glances and con cluded that it was time to go. 
" I wonder if that man thought I would consent to such fraud," said Reba, when they were seated in the carriage. " How disheartening all this is! " 
 
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" Don't think of his odious talk," said Mrs. Blos som. " He 's not respectable; his low prices show that Signor Wilkini" she added, in disgust. " I believe he is a native Philadelphian, and his real name is Wilkins. I suppose he sails under false colors for the sake of Italian prestige in musical matters. He is a musical quack." 
Signor Blondinera was again consulted the fol lowing day, and it was definitely determined that Reba should study both vocal and instrumental music under his direction. Mr. Shepherd showed plainly that he applauded her resolution to make herself independent of her relatives by fitting herself for lucrative employment, but took oc casion to warn her not to be over-sanguine of 
success. " I think," he said a few days later, when calling 
her attention to " Charles Auchester," a musical novel, " I think from what my aunt tells me, you may have been led to expect too much. Success on the lyric stage is very difficult to attain, I im agine, and I fancy the average ' professor of vocal culture' is not much troubled with pangs of con science. I have heard shocking stories of de ception practised on ambitious young American aspirants in Italy, who are led on and fed upon encouragement until the years have slipped by and their money is all gone, only to find that they can accomplish nothing. I doubt if the average teacher in this country is really much more trust- 
 
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worthy, except perhaps where he has more pupils than he wants. I hope you will take this sugges tion," he added, " in the spirit it is offered." 
Reba expressed sincere thanks, assuring him that she knew better than to expect too much. After all, she thought seriously only of going South to teach music ; the other was a mere dream. " I have n't fully made up my mind that I should want to be a singer if I could," she added; where upon he showed pleased surprise. 
" I am glad to know this," he said frankly, " for really I doubt if there is much hope. I have heard many singers, and it does not seem to me that your voice could ever be powerful enough to fill an opera house. It is sweet, sympathetic, beautiful indeed -- to me," he added softly, "but I don't think it was ever intended for the public." 
This and similar conversations established be tween them a certain degree of intimacy which had not existed hitherto, and which was a source of great satisfaction to Mrs. Blossom, that lady's eccentric fancy for Reba having ere this developed into a strong affection. What with her studies and her social engagements, the girl was hence forth very busy, and a few weeks later Betty wrote complaining that her cousin had forgotten Barcelona. 
It was now near the end of March, and, having spent two months under Mrs. Blossom's hospitable roof, Reba contemplated securing a boarding-place 
 
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at an early day, in spite of the vigorous protest of her friend, who wished her to stay where she was. She dreaded the change, but was convinced that her visit should not be further prolonged, and that she would make more rapid progress in her studies if distracted by less social life. 
" Mamma thinks the idea of your singing on the stage is simply frightful," wrote Betty. " She cannot see how it can be even respectable, nor can papa. It is amusing to hear him talk about it. He says he always thought Aunt Mary was ' awful particular' about you, but he has come to the conclusion that she was n't particular enough; she certainly ought to have taught you that it would not be lady-like and seemly to make a ' showwoman ' of yourself. Papa has a great deal of shrewd common-sense, and knowledge too, in his own range, but he does n't know that there is any difference between Xilsson and the common song-and-dance ' show-girl,' and probably thinks the opera is similar to the unbearable 'concert' which comes after the circus is over. I overheard mamma telling Mr. Straitlace about it, and he shook his head solemnly, reminding her that you had never been ' convicted of sin.' You had thus wil fully exposed yourself to the wiles of the Evil One, who will always take an ell if you give him an inch, or words to that effect. He generously offered to pray for you every day, and I trust you will be duly grateful, you hardened sinner! So much for 
 
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going off to the ends of the earth and consorting with Yankees. After he was gone I found mamma crying. That put me in a f state of mind' at once, and I was irreverent enough to declare that the Rev. Jonathan Straitiace was a backswoods country cracker and did n't know what he was talking about. 
<c I have some news for you about Charlie. He gave you up long ago, of course, and now you will be glad to know that he is on the high road toward consolation. That is the way with men. One rose seems to be as sweet as another to them, -- that is, after a slight interval devoted to sighs and gloomy reflection. I mean that Charlie has gone to Amanda Turner for comfort, and will no doubt get it. I always felt that she liked him. My greatest fear is that he will make too easy a conquest, -- a dangerous thing for all concerned. He took her out in his buggy yesterday, and when he came back he was in a better humor than I have seen him for a long time. I 'd like to see him marry Kate Lawton, but Amanda is a nice girl, and I suppose one's brother must choose for himself. 
" If we can trust appearances, another young man is seeking consolation, too, but I am not so sure that he will-get it. Who do you suppose? None other than my quondam admirer, Jim Jones, the immortal ' knight of the plough.' The object of his constant attentions is -- you would never guess -- Miss Francie Black. At one time I suspected 
 
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that she thought too much about that enigma, Rob Morton, but it may have been only my imagination. At any rate, she accepts Mr. Jones's attentions, and they seem to have become great friends. He drives out with her frequently. She seems to be trying to cultivate and improve him, poor fellow. She told me that she had persuaded him to take a Chautauqua course of reading. He certainly is manly and has a good heart, and if she can stand his clumsiness and his 'sweaty' hands, his 'I taken ' and ' I ain't got no,' etc., etc., she may be happy with him. It will be the last match in the world I should have predicted. Philip Gordon is paying her particular attentions also, and it looks as if she will be able to take her choice of the two. Phil is at least a gentleman, and in other ways seems to me worthy of the really fine character Miss Black is. 
" I know a fourth young man who apparently is not seeking consolation. When I saw him at the St. Glairs' that day, six weeks or so ago, I thought he was, and that the next thing we knew he would be visiting Maud regularly and taking her out to entertainments. But he has n't done it. They say he scarcely goes anywhere at all. If you have changed, he has not, -- or so it seems. His case is doubtless more troublesome than the ordinary, -- the wound went deeper, and it w!il take time to cure him. Reba, dearie, why is it you and I are so hard to please? It has slowly been re- 
 
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vealed to me that, after all, I did not love poor dear Jack as I should have done. I loved him rather as a brother or a dear cousin, and in that way I mourn for him now. It is best to be candid with one's self, don't you think so? I fear I shall be an old maid ; but you, Reba -- you must n't! If you can't love Robert Morton, there are other fish, etc. Perhaps your fate may be that young Philadelphian whose remote ancestors presumably tended sheep. I liked his looks when I saw him here at the tour nament. He looked like a man, -- not more so than the one you have rejected, however." 
On reading that part of the letter which referred to Morton, Reba was again stirred with conflicting emotions, and certain feelings came to the surface which she believed she had conquered. But she soon summoned the resolution and strength to put them down, telling herself that-the only reasonable explanation of Morton's reported behavior was to be sought in the probable failure of his designs. Miss St. Clair had doubtless not been satisfied with his plea, had suspected his mercenary motives, and perceived the insincerity of his protestations. So had he failed, and now deservedly suffered from dis appointment and humiliation. 
Of late it had been more and more clearly indi cated to Reba that Paul Shepherd intended ere long to ask her to become his wife, and although she studiously avoided giving him encouragement, she gradually was more inclined to dwell on the 
 
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matter in her thought. In proportion as she strug gled successfully to shut her mind to every tender recollection of her former lover, she smarted the more acutely under the indignity which she be lieved he had put upon her, and was the more ready to contemplate the character of another suitor whom she respected and admired. Invol untarily she contrasted the worldly aspects of life as the wife of a poor Barcelona lawyer and a rich Philadelphian of the leading class. The former would be narrow, perhaps even straitened, and socially dull; the latter would be one continuing scene of luxury, social triumph, and opportunity for every species of mental exhilaration and expan sion, -- an existence for which she was fitted by nature and inherent tendency. 
The one cloud which darkly overshadowed this alluring picture was the fact that her heart was cold. She regarded young Shepherd with respect, admiration, and friendship, but the fear haunted her that she would never love any man again. But -- after all -- what if love were mere fancy (as Mrs. Blossom claimed), which soon deserted its helpless victims and left them to the horrors of disillusion and regret? Did not respect, admira tion, and friendship form a safer basis to start from and fall back upon for those who must take the terrible leap in the dark? The question repeatedly propounded itself in her mind as to whether it could be the part of wisdom to surrender all that a 
 
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marriage with Shepherd involved for the sake of a bright, foolish dream which had ended in the dis covery that her idol was made of clay instead of gold. 
The temptation was persistent and strong, but she never quite yielded to it, even for a moment. " I would rather see you in your grave than see you marry for anything but love," her mother had said, and she had not forgotten. Nor -- try as she might--could she as yet shut her mind completely to the recollection of Morton. And so, when, about ten days after,she received the last letter from Betty, Paul Shepherd came perilously near a declaration, and she needed only to give him a word or even a look in order to bring him to her ' feet, she took care to overlook his meaning and divert him from his aim. 
Returning from the opera under his escort, on a Saturday evening within a day or two of this occur rence, she found the following telegram awaiting her: -- 
Charlie Walton, Sara Thomas, and George McLeod killed in riot with negroes. Jim Jones and Rob Morton dangerously wounded Matilda hopes you will come. 
ADAM BROWN. 
 
 XIX. 
REBA found the telegram lying on the table in her chamber and was alone when she read it Five minutes later Mrs. Blossom was summoned. Miss Lawrence was very unwell -- so declared the excited maid; she had fallen on the floor and now lay in a deep swoon. When they reached her she was already recovering consciousness and needed only to be assisted to a lounge, where they insisted on giving her something to drink, and endeavored to make her comfortable. 
" You are tired, Reba," said Mrs. Blossom. " You have been doing and going too much, and you must have absolute rest for a few days." 
" I never fainted before," said the girl, almost in a whisper. " The shock was so -- terrible ! The telegram -- " Her voice failed and the muscles of her face contracted in pain. 
The maid picked up the bit of yellow paper from the floor and presented it to her mistress, who swiftly absorbed the words : " Charlie Walton, Sam Thomas, and George McLeod killed in riot with 
 
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negroes. Jim Jones and Bob Morton dangerously wounded. Matilda hopes you will come." 
" My poor darling ! -- and these are your friends," murmured Mrs. Blossom, horror-struck. 
" One of them, Charlie Walton, is my cousin,-- almost my brother. You saw him -- he crowned me," said Reba haltingly, with the manner of one stunned. Her thought leaped at once to an other one, -- the last mentioned, -- but she said nothing of him. " Aunt Matilda -- his mother -- wants me, and I must go," she added. 
"Yes, dear child, you must go." Mrs. Blossom embraced the girl tenderly. " And after a few weeks you will come back to us and -- go on with your studies." 
" I must go by the first train," said Reba, appar ently not hearing her friend's last words. 
"Yes -- if you are strong enough." " I'll be strong enough in a few minutes." " I suppose it will be safe to go? The fighting will probably be over by the time you arrive." <f I will go anyhow." " Marie," said Mrs. Blossom, addressing the maid, " call Powell and tell him to go instantly to the Broad Street station and find out when the next through train goes South. Tell him to ask about the sleeper, -- a Savannah sleeper." The butler returned in half an hour with the information that a train had just gone, and that another would not go until 7:20 in the morning. 
 
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It was now midnight. Mrs. Blossom, who had re ceived this intelligence at the door, returned to Reba's couch, and it was at once decided that the latter would take the early morning train. 
" You had better come \vith me to the room adjoining mine and try to get some sleep," pro posed the elder lady after a few moments. " The maids will be busy here packing your trunks. Get Ann to help you," she added, addressing the woman who was present, " and tell Powell to be sure that they are at the station in time." 
Ten minutes later the butler was again summoned by the mistress of the house, who gave him a sealed letter. " See that Mr. Shepherd gets this to-night," she said. " It is important, and if he has already retired he must be wakened." 
At seven o'clock next morning a handsome car riage driven by a coachman in full livery, and dis tinguished by a coat-of-arms emblazoned on its panels attracted the attention of the passing stream of pedestrians as it drew up in front of the Broad Street station. A few halted in order to see the occupants of this uncommon turnout, but were evidently disappointed on beholding two veiled and quietly dressed ladies descend to the pave ment. Entering the station, these promptly as cended to the ladies' waiting-room, where they were at once joined by a young man. 
" You have just ten minutes before the gate opens," said Mr. Shepherd; and then in a few wellchosen words he expressed to Reba his regret for 
 
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what had occurred and his sympathy for her and her friends. 
"I am coming to the conclusion," he said after ward, " that we Northerners know less about those race troubles in the South than we think we do. f We have long been disposed to think that all such troubles have their origin in politics, but it seems more and more clear that it is not a struggle of one political party against another, but is one of race against race, in which immemorial history repeats itself. All this bloodshed could scarcelv#* have resuited from the mere act of an infamous outlaw in resisting arrest in a country inhabited by one homo geneous people. It is race antipathy which origi nates, aggravates, and continues this conflict." 
" Let us not discuss the question now," said Mrs. Blossom, rising. " I am going out there to get some of those flowers," she announced, and took her way to the larger general waiting-room. She seemed in no hurry, bending over the flower-stand and deliberately inspecting each variety exhibited there, and asking the price. Fully five minutes had elapsed before she returned. 
"At such a time," Paul Shepherd had said to Reba, " you can hardly conclude definitely as to your future plans, but I suppose -- I hope -- you 
intend to return to Philadelphia and continue your -- " 
" I suppose so," faltered the girl, with a quiver ing of the lip which was hidden by her veil. " But I can't tell. I can't think." 
 
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"At least,-- I hope/'he said, with lowered voice, " that if you do not return I may-- may visit you at your home in the South?" 
Reba heard him dreamily, her thoughts being full of him she had loved, and who was now per haps dying, and she answered with an effort: -- 
" Certainly. It will always be a pleasure to see you. After Mrs. Blossom you have been the kindest of my friends here, and I should be very sorry if you were to pass through Georgia with out stopping to see us." 
He was disappointed in this reply and checked himself. He had meant her to understand that he would desire to travel a thousand miles solely on her account; she doubtless so understood his words, but preferred to appear to think of his proposed visit as a mere incident of a journey to Florida. He looked at his watch, and said the train was probably in by this time. At this junc ture Mrs. Blossom appeared and presented Reba with a small bouquet of white roses. A few moments later the crier announced the train, and they rose and moved forward. 
Reba was settled in her seat, had finally bidden both her friends good-by, and the train had begun to move slowly out of the station, when a newsboy hurried down the aisle shouting: -- 
" Morning papers! All about the horrible Southern outrage! Southern race war ! " etc. 
Reba stopped him and bought a paper, asking 19 
 
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for the " Philadelphia!!," with which Mr. Shepherd was connected. But the boy was running risks, and in his haste to supply her, and afterwards run and jump off, he gave her the "Partisan" instead. One glance informed her that the third column of the first page was devoted to the " outrage," nearly a quarter of a column being taken up with " scareheads," as follows : -- 
 
BUTCHERED IN A RACE WAR. 
 
WHITE RESIDENTS OF A G:OiiG.A TOWN EXTERMINATING COLORED PEOPLE. 
TEN COLORED MEN KILLED. 
COLORED PRISONERS OF THE COUNTY JAIL THREATENED BY THE MOB. 
POOR WOMEN BRUTALLY BEATEN. 
TERRIBLE BATTLE LN A SWAMP. 
After the foregoing, it was somewhat surprising that the last sub-head, in the smallest display type, should have read as follows: -- 
THE RIOT BEGUN BY A COLORED OUTLAW SHOOTING DEAD A WHITE MAR SHAL WHO WAS ATTEMPT ING HIS ARREST, 
 
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The " special dispatch to the ' Partisan '" from Savannah ran thus: 
 
" The town of Barcelona, about a hundred miles from 
 
this city, is in the throes of a race riot. As yet only 
 
meagre news of the outbreak has been obtainable. The 
 
trouble is supposed to have started about four o'clock this 
 
afternoon. 
 
" The Killed. 
 
" So far as heard from, the killed are : GEORGE McLEOD, assistant-marshal; CHARLES WALTON, farmer ; SAMUEL THOMAS, lawyer; and from eight to ten colored men. 
 
" The Wounded. 
" Those wounded among the whites are : ROBERT MORTON, lawyer, dangerous wound in abdomen ; JAMES JONES, farmer, serious wound in shoulder ; ARTHUR BARNWELL, marshal, shot through both legs. 
 
" It is stated that the trouble was precipitated by an attempt to arrest a colored outlaw, Josh Bostwick by name. At six o'clock Bostwick and his followers were located in a small but dense swamp near the town, and a hundred white men have surrounded the place, and are now on picket duty, holding the blacks at bay. During the first outbreak, the pursuit of the colored men, and their retreat to the swamp, many shots were exchanged, with the result in killed and wounded as stated above. The colored men are expecting rein forcements from Barcelona and the surrounding country, and more serious fighting is looked for. 
" In response to a telegram from the Governor, the Georgia Hussars, a cavalry troop of this city, will go 
 
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immediately to the scene. The infantry companies of this city, which could muster three or four hundred men, are also holding themselves in readiness to move at a moment's notice. An infantry company from Brunswick is also expected to move at once. Advices from that point state that colored men of that town have also become excited, and demand that they be furnished a special train to carry them to the assistance of their friends. They threaten to burn the docks if the train is not furnished. 
" Later despatches from Barcelona confirm the above reports and add some particulars. Josh Bostwick, a noted desperado and fugitive from justice, Mamie-Lou John, and Riley Martin, notorious loafers and bad char acters, entered Barcelona at noon to-day with guns on their shoulders, as though returning from a hunting trip. About four o'clock they attracted attention by their shouts and curses in front of a saloon on a back Street, the desperado Bostwick firing off his gun, to the terror and imminent danger of persons in that vicinity. Marshal Barn well and Deputy McLeod attempted to arrest Bostwick, who resisted, -- the other two colored men encouraging him, and Rosetta Hightower, a wo man of infamous notoriety, who was in their company, egging them on to the struggle which ensued. Robert Morton, a young white man, was passing, and being summoned, ran to the assistance of the officers of the law; not, however, until Bostwick had freed himself from the grasp on his collar, raised his gun, and fired, killing the deputy. Riley and John promptly followed his lead, and both Barn well and young Morton were shot down. 
 
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" The alley was soon alive with people, and the three outlaws were fired upon and began to retreat, calling upon their friends to join them in their battle with the whites. Some fifteen or twenty colored men responded, and the combined forces, including the woman, retreated hurriedly out of town toward a small but dense swamp, exchanging shots as they went with the growing body of their pursuers. During this skirmishing, at pretty close quarters, Charles Walton and Samuel Thomas, white, and six colored men were killed, and James Jones, white, was wounded. The odds now against them, the colored men turned and fled to the swamp, near which Riley Martin, one of the outlaws, was brought to earth, badly wounded. The Hightower woman was overtaken and whipped with switches. When released, she ran into the swamp and joined her friends. 
" To-night two other colored women of notoriously bad character were set upon by unknown persons in the suburbs of Barcelona and severely whipped. The excite ment is at fever heat, and negro criminals in the county jail are trembling for their lives. 
"The latest despatch from Barcelona states that the swamp is surrounded by white men on picket duty, and that the colored men who have made threats of another uprising in the town are overawed, and there is now no fighting going on. Those besieging the swamp are waiting for daylight. At nine o'clock a colored man was shot by a picket while attempting to leave the swamp. v The ball took effect in the right breast, but the wound is not fatal. It is believed that he was acting as a spy." 
 
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Reba read and re-read this meagre account of the riot, and as her glance returned to the mislead ing u scare-heads " her eyes filled with angry tears and her heart throbbed with indignation. 
" The despatches show plainly enough that the negroes precipitated the riot," was her thought. " They were altogether in the wrong, and yet these people sympathize with them at once, and never think of us at all. I wonder how such good people can be so cruel and blind. Mr. Shepherd's own paper, too, and he talked this morning as if he knew better: ' Butchered in a race war. White 
i 
residents of a Georgia town exterminating colored people (!) Poor women brutally beaten (.' !) ' How can he have written such dishonest headings, man ifestly intended to prejudice the reader in advance ? " 
At this point, she observed with great relief that it was not Mr. Shepherd's paper she was reading, but a sheet called the " Partisan." Putting it away from her promptly, she sat in troubled revery until the train stopped at the next station, where she beckoned a passing newsboy and secured at last a copy of the " Philadelphian." Mr. Shep herd's paper contained the same dispatches, but they were not adorned by the " Partisan's " flowery headlines, the unvarnished facts of the occurrence and nothing more being outlined. 
On the inside of the journal, which in more ways than one seemed to show a regard for simple truth 
 
 THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
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and justice far too uncommon, the following edito rial appeared: -- 
 
" Judging from the despatches describing the riot at Barcelona, Georgia, this latest 'race war' is of a charac ter to arrest the attention of the thoughtful, showing as it plainly does that other factors beside hatred of the freed slave enter into these troubles. It becomes more and more evident that the Southern whites have a grave prob lem on their hands, and that they are deserving of at least a measure of the sympathy which hitherto we have lav ished entirely upon the blacks. 
" It seems quite clear that the whole trouble was pre cipitated by the infamous acts of a negro outlaw. Blood once shed and innocent blood quickly following, as it always does, public excitement naturally led to indiscre tions and half a score or more of lives have paid the penalty. It ought to be quite impossible for anybody to make political capital out of this tragic incident. Every good citizen, white or black, North or South, cannot but earnestly desire the suppression of outlawry wherever it is found. The trouble is that such men as Josh Bostwick are too often tolerated in a community, instead of being put away for their crimes at an early period in their worse than useless careers. They are allowed to be at large and to work mischief among the other degraded characters; and such is the brutality of some human natures that des peradoes of this kind can always summon followers ready to go with them any lengths in resisting the mandate of the law. One lesson of this riot is that the law should always be enforced, that men whose place is behind the bars should be kept there. Another lesson, perhaps, if 
 
 296 
 
THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
we of the North are ready to heed it, is that our early conception of the Southern situation, as one continuing spectacle of a white foot on a black neck is, to say the least, out of date and wanting in revision." 
 
" That sounds more like Mr. Shepherd," was Reba's thought on reading this; and she felt very grateful to the fair-minded man who had so thoroughly won her esteem, if not her heart. 
The long day dragged as if toward an eternity. The speeding train seemed to creep, as the girl lay back upon her cushion outwardly calm, but restless and ill with waiting, hoping, fearing, and now and again shedding scalding tears behind her veil. 
 
 XX. 
ABOUT the hour of that Saturday night when Reba's trunks were being packed in Philadelphia, a little past midnight, several white men stood and lounged about a fire in the open pine woods be tween that part of Barcelona called the Neck and the swamp which was surrounded by pickets, and in which the remnant of the rioting negroes lay concealed. The moon rode high in the heavens, and sufficient light filtered down between the tops of the straggling pines to enable the pickets to distinguish any moving figure within the distance of a hundred yards, and effectually prevent escape from the swamp. 
The place in which the fugitives rested at bay, however, could hardly be called a swamp at all, as it covered only three or four acres. It was in reality a cypress pond, for the most part " gone dry," as it is said locally, and was grown up not only with old cypresses and young pines, but with dense un derbrush and young poplar-trees now well covered with the fresh green leaves of spring. The fire was 
 
 298 
 
THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
more than a hundred yards without the circle of the pickets, and the half-dozen men who stood or sat around it were unconcerned in manner, being well beyond the range of bullets from the swamp. Their faces were serious and stern, however, and the tenor of their conversation showed that the outlaws at bay need expect no mercy. 
There were some inaccuracies in the associated press despatches concerning the riot, but in the main the account was correct. As stated, the trouble had grown out of the attempted arrest of the black desperado Bostwick and the killing of the white deputy. The marshal himself and Robert Morton, called to the aid of the former, were shot down by Mamie-Lou John and Riley Martin, whose former exploits will be remembered. The three outlaws were then fired upon by white men gathering to the scene. The color line being drawn, the law-breakers were immediately rein forced by all the more desperate characters of their race within hearing of the conflict. It being Saturday, an almost universal holiday among the negroes, many idlers were on hand to take part. The woman, Rosetta Hightower, now notorious as an abandoned creature, was present and incited the blacks to' resistance by shrieks and curses, afterwards accompanying her friends in their reIreat and flight Although overtaken on the borders of the pond and whipped by an enraged white man called Simpson, her spirit was not 
 
 THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
299 
 
broken, and when released, instead of returning to the town, she ran boldly into the pond where her friends were concealed, tempting for the moment some of the more rash of the pursuers to fire upon her. Her sex, however, protected her from such a fate. 
The pond being promptly surrounded by white men crowding to the scene, and certain spirits of the Neck who loudly threatened a fresh uprising being presently overawed, the mayor in the course of the evening telegraphed the troops in Savannah and Brunswick not to move until further notice. There had been no further developments in the situation up to twelve o'clock, at which time such of the besiegers as were not on picket duty were lounging about the fire as described. 
" Colonel Sanford advises moderation," said a young man, evidently belonging to the educated class, who stood leaning on a Winchester rifle. (His name was Gordon and he was a cousin of Jack Sanford.) " He told me he would come down here and talk to you boys himself if he were well enough to get out of bed. He says when we close in on them in the morning, we ought not to fire a gun unless they fire on us first. He thinks they may be disposed to surrender, and that we ought to take them alive if possible, and let them be tried and convicted according to law." 
" Shucks ! " exclaimed a man named McLeod, a brother of the dead deputy-marshal, " that sort o' 
 
 300 
talk will do for babies. What! -- give them nig gers a chance for life after all the good white men they've shot down like dogs? " His lip trembled for a moment or two, but steadying himself, he added, with a solemn oath: " The first black face I see in them bushes I 'm goin' to shoot at, -- that's settled!" 
" Adam Brown said about the same thing when he was down here with that crowd at nine o'clock," spoke up a man reclining on a bunch of wire-grass. (This was the bricklayer, Simpson, of New Jersey, husband of the unfortunate " pond-gannet " whose persecution at the hands of Josephine may be remembered.) " He said the niggers in town had quieted down and he did n't expect any more trouble to-night, and maybe none to-morrow, and he wanted us to take them black devils in the swamp alive if we could. But how could we, if we wanted to? " 
" We can't do it," declared McLeod. " They '11 shoot as soon as ever they see us comin'," continued Simpson, " and more 'n likely a passel of us '11 be picked off before we git a shot our selves. Who 's goin' to try to take 'em alive, then? Humph!" "What do'you say, sheriff?" asked another re clining figure. ''We've got to take 'em, dead or alive, that's certain," briefly replied the'sheriff, a heavily built man who sat before the fire with a rifle across his knees. 
 
 THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
301 
 
"Who's that?" some one exclaimed, as two men were seen approaching the fire from the direction of the Neck. The sheriff sprang to his feet and called out, " Halt! " 
" Don't shoot! " cried one of the two approaching men, both having halted. " We come on a peace able errand." 
The voice was unmistakably that of a negro, and recognizing it as such, the white men about the fire exchanged glances, suspicion entering the minds of all. 
" Come ahead, then," said the sheriff after a moment. 
The new-comers proved to be Professor Brice and a very old negro, known in the Neck as " Uncle Billy." The latter appeared to be too terrified to speak, and the former also looked about him with some show of apprehension as they entered the circle of firelight. 
" I tried to git preacher Smith to come with us," said the professor, smiling nervously, " but he was afraid you 'd shoot him. I told him you would n't shoot him, gentlemen." 
"What do you want?" demanded the sheriff. "I -- I -- wanted to see if we couldn't make some arrangement -- " " ' Arrangement! ' -- ' arrangement'! " broke in Simpson, angrily. " We don't want no sassy edu cated niggers around here -- and no ' arrange ment.' " (Simpson could not afford to send his children to school.) 
 
 302 
 
THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
" Let him alone," said the sheriff, in rebuke. " This old man has a son in that pond," con tinued the professor, without replying in any way to Simpson, " and I thought maybe if you 'd let him go in there, and let me go with him, we might talk to them boys and get 'em to give up--sur render. They know they ain't got no chance no how/' added the schoolmaster, forgetful of his learning in his excitement, " and looks to me like we could persuade 'em. It would save a heap o' bloodshed, gentlemen." " Don't do it! " cried Simpson and others, as the sheriff hesitated. " No tellin' what them two nig gers are really up to." " We 've got better sense, I hope, than to let reinforcements walk into that pond right before our eyes," said McLeod, angrily. " We ain't tryin' to fool you, gentlemen," replied the professor, mildly. " We got better sense. We mean honest." " Be for yo' good, too," ventured old Uncle Billy, in an unsteady voice. " Dem boys is desp'ate, an' when you rush in on 'em a-shootin', dey'11 sho' kill some o' you." " Let 'em try it! " " You can't do it to-night, anyhow," said the sheriff, still undecided. " I think if Colonel Sanford were here he would advise us to let them try it," said young Gordon. 
 
 THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
303 
 
" If you come here by sun-up in the mornin', we '11 see about it," said the sheriff, finally. 
" All right, sir," said Brice, looking disappointed, " I hope you won't charge in on 'em before we git h-yuh." 
"That's our business," growled McLeod, and the professor and old Uncle Billy turned sadly away, moving off toward the Neck. 
The schoolmaster's proposal was discussed pro and con for half an hour, and then silence gradu ally fell on the group about the fire. The soft sigh of the wind in the pine-tree tops was for some time all that was heard. 
" Hello! what's that?" said one of the men at last, and guns were gripped on every side. 
The figure of a woman suddenly appeared from among the dark shadows of the pines and stood near them. As the light fell upon her they saw that she was white-haired and old. 
" Why, it's old Mammy Nanny," declared the same speaker. " She lives right over yonder." 
"What do you want here this time o' night?" asked the sheriff, suspiciously, when the old sor ceress had walked boldly into their midst. 
" Wud I want? " she repeated in her peculiar, husky voice. " I want to keep some you white mens from gwine to hell bright an' early to-mor row mornin'. Some o' you sho' gwine." 
The crowd saw the grim joke and took it goodhumoredly, several laughing outright. " She means 
 
 304 
 
THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
 
 
there 's to be more fighting and some of us will 
 
' sho' kick the bucket," some one explained. 
 
" Ef you know wud good for you, you '11 lem-me 
 
go down in dat pon' an' talk to dem chillun an' 
 
make 'em give up," continued Mammy Nanny. 
 
The old discussion was now re-commenced. 
 
Some thought she had been sent by Brice, and 
 
that the " whole thing was a plot " to help the be 
 
sieged out of their trap. Others doubted this, and 
 
asked her why she thought she could persuade the 
 
outlaws to surrender.  Dey do wud I tell 'em," she replied confidently. 
(( You des wai*t an' see;' des wait an' see." (I Don't let her go," advised McLeod, the brother 
 
of the murdered deputy. " One woman too many in there now. We don't want to shoot women." 
 
" I reckon we better let her try it," said the 
 
sheriff. " She can't do any harm, and if she can 
 
make 'em surrender, all the better." 
 
And so it was finally decided. The nearest sen 
 
tinels were notified and instructed not to fire, and 
 
then the fearless old woman walked down the slope 
 
and into the underbrush of the pond. As she dis 
 
appeared from view, her voice rose upon the night 
 
air, becoming peculiarly shrill when pitched on a 
 
high key: -- ' " Mamie-Lou ! Josh ! Rosetta ! Don't shoot! 
 
I 'm a-comin'. T ain't dem white mens. It's me 
 
-- Mammy Nanny f" Shortly after this incident two white men ap- 
 
 THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
305 
 
preached the group about the fire from the direc tion of Barcelona. " Riley Martin died about a half-hour ago at Thompson's drug store," one of them announced. " Dr. Fisher got the bullet out of his lung, but he did n't live long after it." 
"And what do you reckon, boys?" said the other new-comer. " He confessed that he and Mamie-Lou John killed Jack Sanford. It was n't that young Putnam darkey after all, and now I reckon they'll turn loose his old daddy, -- old Jerry Carter." 
" They robbed and murdered Jack Sanford -- the same devils that killed my brother! " exclaimed McLeod, starting to his feet, almost mad with rage. He declared that he would charge the besieged at that moment, and called upon all hands to follow him into the pond. But every one objected, and the excited man was prevented from rushing to his certain death, at first by force, and then by persua sion, finally agreeing to wait for daylight and the co-operation of his friends. 
" You may do what you please with the rest," he declared, " but if we take Mamie-Lou John and Josh Bostwick alive, they Ve got to swing." 
As the gray light of dawn began to steal through the tops of the thin-leaved cypresses and penetrate the deepest shades of the little swamp, four human figures were gradually outlined, seated on a log beneath a tall, branching poplar. Their position was near the centre of the so-called pond, and, a 
20 
 
 3o6 
 
THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
short distance in front of them, a bog or quagmire a few square yards in extent was the sole relic of the vanished waters which in wet weather covered an acre or two. The human figures were those of Mammy Nanny, Rosetta, Mamie-Lou John, and the desperado Bostwick, and these were the sole occu pants of the pond. The besiegers were under the -belief that six or eight armed negroes besides the notorious Bostwick and John were at bay, not knowing that all but the two latter had passed through the little swamp and escaped into the ex tensive pine forests beyond, the afternoon before, while fighting was still going on and before the place was surrounded. When Rosetta was over taken and whipped on the outskirts of the swamp Bostwick and John halted to fire on her assailant and their pursuers, and so when they attempted to follow their escaping friends they found the place invested by white men on every side. It was dur ing the whipping of Rosetta, which occasioned the last exchange of shots, that Sam Thomas fell. 
" It ain't no use/' said Bostwick, sullenly, rising from the log and peering about him in the uncer tain light. " I done tried it a hundred times since yistiddy ebenin'. Dey got us hemmed in too close. No chance to git out o' dis place." 
The crack of a rifle resounded through the woods. It was doubtless the signal for the besie gers to advance from every point, and the other three figures started up from the log in terror. 
 
 THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
307 
 
" You boys better tek care yo'self! " exclaimed Mammy Nanny, in a shaken voice. " Dem white mens be yuh in five minutes." 
" Can't you hide some'rs?" suggested Rosetta, eagerly. 
Cold sweat stood out in great beads on the fore heads of the two doomed men. Nevertheless, Bostwick exclaimed, with a fierce oath, " I bet I '11 kill two of 'em fo' dey git me. Dey can't shoot me down like a dog." 
" Nor me neither," echoed Mamie-Lou, although with chattering teeth. 
A shout was now heard, and answering shouts followed from different sides of the pond. The circle of the pickets was contracting. Bostwick and John looked at each other significantly, abject fear stealing into their hearts. 
(The professor and old Uncle Billy had not turned up in time, and the former's proposition had been forgotten by the besiegers in the excite ment of the hour. Mammy Nanny's failure to re appear, however, would have made them reluctant to permit further attempts at mediation.) 
Suddenly Bostwick ran over to a neighboring bay-tree, muttering to himself as he went, " Look to me like dere 's a hollow up dere in dat big dead pine.1 ' 
A huge old pine stood very close to the bay and towered above it; Bostwick's idea seemed to be to climb up the bay and attempt to jump a yard or 
 
 308 
 
7V/ ^CWS" OF HAM. 
 
two to the lowest branch of the pine, and thence make his way into the hollow. It was not a prom ising plan, -- ten to one, if he succeeded in reaching the hollow at all, it would prove too small; but nothing else suggested itself, and he felt that he must act. He had climbed up the few feet of bare trunk and swung himself into the branches of the bay by the time the others understood what was his intention. His helpless comrade moved to follow, but Mammy Nanny stopped him. 
"You, Mamie-Lou ! Wait! Come yuh -- I'll fix you." 
He was the grandson of her sister, and it was to save him that the old sorceress had braved the objections of the besiegers and entered the pond. Repeatedly calling on him to follow, she ran out on a rotting log which lay across the mud and water of the quagmire. 
"Git in an' lay down," she then commanded. " I '11 fix you so dey won't find you." 
" Lay down in dat cole water an' mud ? " objected Mamie-Lou, with a shiver. 
" Do wud I tell you, you fool you ! " ** Moccasin- come from under dis log- an' bite me," cried the terrified and reluctant negro. " Moccasin* "bite ain't bad ez white man' bullet. Look yuh, boy, is you crazy? Git in, I tell you ! " The man seemed paralyzed with fear, and made no movement. With angry speech, she laid hold on him, and, losing his balance, he stepped oflf the 
 
 THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
309 
 
log against his will. Then he submitted like a child as she forced him to lie down in the mud and water and rest his head near the log. 
" Moccasin ain't gwine bite you," she declared, 
coaxingly. Once she had placed him in the desired position, 
she deliberately stepped upon him, and, by stand ing tip-toe and then coming down upon him with all her weight, she forced his legs and arms, and finally his body, to sink gradually beneath the soft, yield ing ooze. This done to her satisfaction, she stepped back on the log and, kneeling down, put her hands on his forehead and pressed gently until the back part of his head was also beneath the surface, leav ing only mouth, nose, eyes, and ears exposed. Then she quickly smeared his face, forehead, and hair with black mud, after which, from the spot where Rosetta stood watching, speechless, nothing whatever could be seen but the slime and mire of the bog, although this was a little disturbed. To cover this disturbance of the surface, the crafty old woman, assisted by Rosetta, gathered fallen leaves and scattered them over the place where MamieLou lay, especially over his head, about which she first placed, with apparent carelessness, some bits of rotten wood. She did not forget to scatter a few leaves over the whole surface of the bog, in order to give the impression that a gust of wind had been the moving cause of the whole. 
" Now you des lay still, an' dey ain't never gwine 
 
 3 io 
 
THE SO#S OF HAM. 
 
see you in de woiT/' she said triumphantly; and well she might, for the concealment of the negro was complete. 
And after rubbing her muddy hands on the rough bark of a tree and wiping them on her apron, the old woman felt secure in the thought that all traces of her clever stratagem were re moved. The two men had abandoned their guns, and it now occurred to Mammy Nanny that the sight of these might excite suspicion; she therefore hurriedly concealed them in the neigh boring brush, after which the two women re-seated themselves on the log under the tree, not daring to leave the scene for the present, well knowing that the sight of a black face moving in the bush would likely draw the fire of the besiegers. 
They had not long to wait. More than ten min utes had elapsed since the signal was heard, the whites having advanced slowly and cautiously; but the circle was now contracting about the centre of the pond. As soon as they seated themselves, the women heard sounds of approaching feet, -- the breaking of a twig here, the cracking of a dry leaf there, and they wondered that they should be held so long in suspense, forgetting that the whites expected every movement to draw upon them selves the fire of a dozen rifles. 
" Surrender! " cried a loud voice suddenly, and a moment later the sheriff, McLeod, Simpson, and young Gordon burst into the "open space in 
 
 THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
311 
 
front of the two women. As if in obedience to the spoken demand, Mammy Nanny rose to her feet, but said nothing. Rosetta remained motionless. 
"Where is they?" cried McLeod, staring va cantly about him. 
"What! --just you two women?" cried the sheriff. 
" What's gone with them?" ejaculated young Gordon. 
" What a set of fools we was to let 'em slip through our fingers," said the disgusted Simpson. 
" Thought you was goin' to make 'em sur render?" said the sheriff, angrily addressing Mammy Nanny. " 'Stead o' that you come in h-yer and help 'em to git off, you --" he hesitated for want of an epithet sufficiently expressive of his wrath. 
" Now you gwine jump on me 'caze you white mens went to sleep," argued Mammy Nanny, spiritedly. 
"Who went to sleep? We didn't do no such a thing." 
" Somebody sho' went to sleep," she asserted, positively, " for eve'y las' one o' dem niggers crawled out o' yuh dis mornin' fo' day, -- crawled out o' yuh on dey belly thoo dat grass." 
"Well, I'll be -- !" cried McLeod and the sheriff in chorus. 
Improving on the advantage gained, Mammy Nanny re-told the story with great variety of detail, 
 
 312 
 
THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
and was, of course, corroborated by Rosetta as to every particular. The old woman had at first de termined to tell the real truth regarding the escape of the other negroes while fighting was still going on and before the swamp was surrounded, intend ing to account for the disappearance of Bostwick and her grand-nephew by describing their pre tended snake-like crawl through the grass past a sleeping sentinel. But, as these sentinels were present, the whole company of besiegers having now centred on the scene, and each would, of course, deny having slept, she decided to say that all the rioting negroes had thus escaped, shrewdly calculating that her story would compel belief, it being manifestly impossible for a dozen men to conceal themselves within the limits of the pond. Mammy Nanny had mastered the arts of deception in the practice of her profession. 
" Seem like to me Bost'ick ought to be 'rested atter what he done/' she calmly informed them. " But what could /do? I couldn't holler to you mens. Dem niggers would 'a cut my t'roat dat quick ! " -- snapping her fingers. 
" Well," said the furious sheriff, "you two women can jes' leave here. That's the best thing you can do. And you "better behave yourselves, too." 
Mammy Nanny cast a lingering look toward the bog, but neither she nor Rosetta was slow to obey. 
"By George!" ejaculated McLeod, softly, a 
 
 THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
313 
 
minute or two later, as the baffled besiegers stood discussing the situation,-- " boys, there 's big game up in that bay-tree. If it ain't a wild cat, it must be a mighty big wild turkey." He stole forward a few steps, and, suddenly bringing his rifle to his shoulder, fired. 
" I hit it,", he then cried. " I seen it move." He fired again, and then at once there appeared to be unusual agitation near the top of the baytree. The leaves and branches trembled, a heavy body descended, rebounding from bough to bough, and presently the lifeless form of Josh Bostwick, the hunted desperado, fell almost at the feet of the astonished McLeod, who started away from it with a cry of horror. The besiegers understood the situation at once and forthwith the cry. arose : " Spread out, boys ! Spread out! There 's more niggers up these trees. Don't let 'em slip down and run ! " As the men leaped to obey, the sight of a black face moving in the bush drew the fire of one of the former sentinels. A moment later Mammy Nanny ran into the open, followed by Rosetta, who directly fell on her face and lay motionless. The former looked anxiously toward the undisturbed bog, then halted, with an air of relief, surveying her surround ings. The sight of Bostwick's body gave her the key to the situation, and, without a word of in quiry, she turned to the fallen Rosetta, stooping over her and investigating her wound. The young 
 
 314 
 
THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
woman was not dead, but seemed unable to speak. The bullet had entered her breast The sheriff was deeply annoyed by these unexpected develop ments, when he returned to the open a few moments later. 
" What made you two women come back here? " he demanded of Mammy Nanny, with anger. " Now she 's shot and she 's to blame for it." 
" We did n't know you white mens was out shootin' women folks," retorted the old woman, bitterly. 
' We ain't, and you know we ain't. We told you to leave, and why didn't you? I don't know who shot her, but whoever did thought she was a man. He saw her face in the bushes and thought she was a man -- runnin' away. Did you know Bostwick was up that tree? " 
"Who, me? I thought he crawled out o' yuh 'long wid the rest," she answered without the twitch of a muscle. " Seem like to me he 'd 'a' had better sense 'n to climb a tree." 
The besiegers were now returning to the open at the centre of the pond, sorely perplexed. The sun had risen and the light was too strong to per mit of mistake; it was perfectly clear that there were no more fugitives in the tops of trees or hidden elsewhere in the little swamp. They were forced to conclude that the old woman's story mast be true after all; as regarded Bostwick, doubtless he was the last to crawl out and the sen- 
 
 THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
315 
 
tinel had awakened in time to prevent him, and thus he was compelled to conceal himself as best 
he could. " Look at that moccasin!" suddenly cried young 
Gordon, who was strolling along the edge of the bog. " Watch me cut off its head." 
Mammy Nanny started to her feet as she heard his exclamation and saw his rifle pointed toward the bog. She rushed forward, open-mouthed, in time to see a small moccasin curving across the mud within a yard of the spot where Mamie-Lou lay, but not in time to interfere. There was a flash, a report, and a moment later all recollection of the snake was lost at the sound of a smothered, inar ticulate cry, and at sight of a violent irruption of the surface of the bog. A black, mud-coated crea ture took grotesque and sudden shape before the besiegers' astonished eyes. Leaping upward, with outstretched arms and hands which frantically clutched the air, it bounded to the shore and fell face forward on the ground, -- a black human figure, lifeless and still. Young Gordon was the first to recover himself, run forward, and identify the murderer of his cousin Jack Sanford. As he bent over the prostrate figure, Mammy Nanny, who hovered near in speechless grief, suddenly leaped upon him like a cat, clawing his face with her long 
nails. With some difficulty she was dragged from her 
victim, no violence being done to her the while. 
 
 316 
 
THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
After inciting the negroes to riot, the vicious and abandoned Rosetta's sex had not saved her from Simpson's whip, but Mammy Nanny's sex and gray hair protected her now. Cursing and reviling in the most frightful manner, she was led forcibly away from the spot. 
The sheriff soon saw that there was nothing more to be done for the present except to have Rosetta removed and her wound attended to. The discovery of a second fugitive, this time concealed in so unlikely a place as a quagmire, had promptly led to a second and more careful search of the whole neighborhood. Every bit of soft earth was thrust through, every bush or tree was scrutinized, every rotten log was examined, but without further result. The posse concluded to disband. Young Gordon had already gone, wiping the flowing blood from his fair face. 
"Boys," said the sheriff, finally, "let's go home. It's Sunday morning." 
 
 XXI. 
CHURCH-BELLS were rung in the Neck as usual a few hours later, and in the afternoon the popula tion strolled about the streets in holiday attire or sat and gossiped on the piazzas of the little houses, although there was grief in upwards of a dozen homes and anxiety on many a face. Here and there the inevitable and apparently never-to-beended conflict with the dominant race was dis cussed with passionate expressions from the women, curses and threats from the youth, and sighs from the old men; but for the most part the subject of conversation was those who were dead, those who would yet die or recover, interments already made and such as were yet deferred, with much specula tion as to the present whereabouts and ultimate fate of those rioters who had escaped through the pine woods beyond the pond and were still at large. 
All the houses of mourning were crowded with sympathizing friends, even that of Zeno Hightower where Rosetta lay near death's door. As Maum 
 
  *^ #-> 
 
318 
 
THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
Katie entered the yard at four o'clock in the after noon, the piazza was full of gossiping women who informed her that the girl was not expected to live. Maum Katie was engaged in nursing Morton, but had asked an hour's leave of absence to visit Rosetta, Zeno Hightower being one of her friends. Being admitted to the room where the wounded young woman lay dying, as it was believed, she found another visitor in the person of Parson Smith, who had come to talk with Rosetta and comfort her weeping mother. 
" You ain't got long to stay, and you must make your peace," he was saying to the prostrate figure on the couch, as Maum Katie entered. He had already prayed and exhorted at some length, but Rosetta, who appeared to be quite conscious, had made no response or in any way shown that she felt repentant. 
"Ain't you got nothin' to say, my daughter?" the parson pointedly inquired at last. 
" No," was the faint, but prompt and emphatic answer. 
" Ain't you yet convicted of sin ?" " No." 
He sighed, began to pray once more, and after a few minutes again addressed her. 
" Don't you want to confess yo' sins, my daugh ter, while yet you got the time? '" 
" No." 
".Ain't you never done nothin' you sorry for?" 
 
 THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
319 
 
"No." 
" Sholy you want to ease yo' mind of its heavy load befo' you die, po' sufferin' sinner?" 
"No." 
" Ain't you never done nothin' wrong to no body?" 
"No!" 
The parson looked nonplussed. " Don't you want me to pray for you ?" he asked helplessly. " What you want me to do for you ? " 
" Go 'way and lem-me 'lone." Maum Katie listened in amazement Could this stubborn and unrepentant soul be really on the threshold of another world ? It was hard for her to believe, and, when a few days later she heard that Rosetta's condition had improved and her complete recovery was regarded as only a matter of time, she was not surprised. The embarrassed parson offered another prayer and then retired, telling Zeno Hightower that he would call again. As soon as he was out of the room Rosetta faintly called Maum Katie to her side. " Now ole Smith is gone, I '11 tell you somethinY' she half-whispered. " I holp to fool a young white 'oman once, and if you want to, you kin go tell her all about it when she come back home. I goin' tell you 'cause you been good to me and 'cause she yo' friend. Me and Sam Thomas fooled her 'bout her sweetheart and it made trouble I reckon. 
 
 He 's dead now and it don't matter if I "tell on him. I swore I 'd tell on him anyhow a Saturday, when I heard him tell ole Simpson to whip me good." 
She began to swear, but became suddenly weak and was obliged to cease. 
" What young white 'oman was it ? " asked Maum Katie, after a few minutes. 
" Reba Lawrence." More questions were then asked and answers faint ly given, and ere she departed Maum Katie heard the whole story of the forged letter which had so successfully substituted discord for peace and filled two trusting souls with harrowing doubt and grief. The riot occurred on Saturday afternoon, the besiegers of the swamp dispersed early Sunday morning; Reba reached Barcelona Monday noon, in time to spend a few hours with her stricken aunt and cousin before the hearse came and Charlie Walton's funeral procession was formed. These two were absorbed in their own grief and did not mention Morton's name, and Reba waited, asking no questions. On their return from the cemetery she overheard some one riding past the carriage which she and Betty occupied remark that Jim Jones was said to be better, but that Robert Morton was not expected to live; his wound proved to be a very serious one and the doctors had dis covered great difficulty in extracting the bullet, which was lodged somewhere in the abdomen. 
 
 THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
321 
 
The latter information came from Betty, who also overheard the remark of the passing horseman. 
On their arrival at the desolate home of her aunt, Reba found her tried and true old friend Maum Katie impatiently awaiting her, and the race riot, with all the bitterness it involved, did not prevent these two from showing the pleasure it gave them to see each other again. Maum Katie had obtained leave and started for the mayor's house as soon as she heard of Reba's arrival, and she now lost no time in coming to the story of Rosetta's confession, observing with great satisfac tion that her young friend, who leaned forward with expanded eyes and parted lips, seemed to grow radiantly beautiful as she listened. 
Crossing the hallway of her house about an hour later--just at nightfall -- Mrs. Morton, a softvoiced, gentle, gray-haired woman, whose beauti ful eyes were now full of sadness, looked through the open front door and was profoundly surprised to see Reba Lawrence mounting the steps. 
" I hope you are quite well. I did not know you had returned," she said courteously but coldly, as she conducted her visitor to the parlor. 
"How is he? Is there not hope?" demanded Reba, abruptly, her eyes glowing, a round red spot burning on each cheek. 
" My son is very ill. There is little hope. We " -- with a heavy sigh --" fear he will die." 
"Let me go to him! Let me see him!" cried Reba. 
21 
 
 322 
 
7^^ SOra OF HAM. 
 
c< Oh, you cannot," said the elder lady after a moment, almost dumbfounded at sight of the anguish on the young girl's face. " You would excite him; the doctor would forbid it." 
"Mrs. Morton -- do -- please -- don't prevent me," the girl begged, drawing nearer. 
" I fail to understand you," was the cold re sponse. " How can you ask? Why should you wish to see him? " 
" I love him. I shall die of remorse if-- I must see him. No one can prevent me! We -- we were engaged -- " 
" And you broke it off. If you loved him, why did you jilt him?" Mrs. Morton was now colder than ever, and her gentle voice had grown stern. 
44 How cruel -- horrible--that sounds," muttered Reba, falling mechanically into a chair. "But -- yes, I should have trusted him in spite of every thing." She bowed her head upon the arm of the chair with a long-drawn sob. " There is no time to lose,1* she then cried suddenly, starting up and unfolding a crumpled bit of paper till now forgotten in the grasp of her hand. 
" If you will not believe me, you will believe your own eyes." 
" What does all this mean? " asked Mrs. Morton, bewildered, putting out her hand to take the prof fered letter. " We thought you broke off your engagement on account of that Northerner." 
 
 THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
323 
 
" I was deceived by this letter. I have just learned that it was a forgery,-- written by Sam Thomas," the girl rapidly explained. 
"Why -- why should he have done such a thing? " asked Mrs. Morton, after swiftly absorbing the letter which was to all appearances from the pen of her own son, and thus proof of a perfidious scheme. 
"Because he hated him, -- you remember . the affair about Miss Black, -- and because he -- liked me." 
" What an infamous -- " "Now, will you let me go to him? " interrupted Reba, urgently. " He loved me once, and it may help him to live -- if I could -- " A minute later the two ladies entered the wounded man's room, and Mrs. Morton signed to her daughter, who sat watching, to withdraw. At sight of the pallid, swarthy face, the dark, strange eyes, now full of an abnormal glare, the girl uttered a low, indescribable cry, and, careless who might see or hear, she fell on her knees at the bedside, putting her hand upon his, and softly calling his name. The staring, glassy eyes fixed themselves upon her; gradually a soft, warm light suffused them, and an expression of intelligence and glad ness stole over the whole face. But Morton was too weak to speak and his lips remained closed. The mother now softly withdrew, hope alive in her heart. 
 
 .24 
4< I have come to ask you to forgive," whispered Reba, in response to his growing look of inquiry, her lips almost touching his ear, -- " to beg you to live -- to live for me; to tell you that I love you, love you, love you, and that unless you forgive me and live I shall die of remorse. I will only tell you now that they made me believe you did not love me,-- and so I ran away; but now I know that they told me lies, and I have come back." 
It was like the sound of a soft strain of music as she said finally: " If you will forgive me and take me back, my beloved, I am yours forever." 
He made a convulsive movement of the arms as if to take her to him, and whispering, " Darling -- darling -- darling!" she bent over until their faces met and her lips rested upon his. 
" I think he 's going to pull through, after all," said the doctor, brightly, as he came out of Morton's room two hours later. 
About six weeks after Reba's precipitate depart ure from Philadelphia, Mrs. Blossom received a letter from the South, which she opened and read eagerly, and over which she shook her head in solemn disapproval. The letter was dated at St. Augustine, was written by her nephew Paul Shep herd, and from it is quoted the following: -- 
" After leaving Barcelona I decided to come on here for a day or so, before returning home. , . . 
fc It is as you feared. She is going to marry that poor 
 
 THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
325 
 
devil of a Southerner, who has hardly a cent in the world, but who, according to report, is a very good sort of a fellow. I did not need to call on her and make a declara tion in order to find that out. Everybody seems to know it, although it is said to be usual here for engagements to be kept secret until the cards are out. However, I called on her twice at her aunt's, and was very kindly received. Of course, I had common-sense and good taste enough to say nothing. We talked -- well, of you and Phila delphia mostly. It is possible that you will be more disappointed than I was. Now that all is over, I am astonished to find myself suffering so little from anything like real regret. My wound, after all, must have been only skin deep. And yet she has haunted my mind ever since the night of the tournament ball here, when she seemed to me incomparably lovely with that tinsel crown on her head. 
" You have said very little about her cousin, Miss Walton, who, it strikes me, is a young lady of a great deal of character. I met her for the first time the other day when calling on Miss Reba to say good-by, and I have been surprised to find myself thinking of her so often since. She is not beautiful, perhaps, but has a certain in definable loveliness which leaves a lingering impression. And she has keen perceptions and a fine sense of the fitness of things. I had spoken guardedly of the riot, respecting their feelings, and expressing my sympathy in the best way I knew how, when she addressed me in a defiant, combative style which compelled my admiration. 
" ' I suppose you call this a " Southern outrage " ? ' she said, with fine scorn. 
 
 326 
 
THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
" ' I don't characterize it, I deplore it,' I said. "'The negro is the Pet of Politics, Colonel Sanford says,' she proceeded ' You Northerners have adopted him as your pet. It is well for you,' she added, signifi cantly, ' that you keep your pet at a safe distance.' " Her brother was killed in the riot, you know, and only a few months ago she mourned the loss of a youthful lover, who was robbed and murdered by negroes. In spite of her combative attitude, I felt that it was possible for us to become the best of friends. If I had seen her first, -- who knows ? But I am writing nonsense. " Your niece, Miss Black, whom I saw twice, talked more sharply still. The term ' red-hot' may not be quite respectful, but it is the only one I can think of which is strong enough to describe her state of mind. She washes her hands of us and our criticism, and from all the indica tions I should judge that she expects to marry and make her permanent home here. I am informed that she is already in a position to make a choice between two very respectable men. " I met Colonel Sanford, too, and with him talked more freely of the riot and the negro question in general. He is in failing health, but sent to ask me to call on him at his house. One is compelled to admire such a man. I am informed that he recently made a deed of gift of a farm to * old Jerry Carter,' the negro whose innocent son, on the strength of strong circumstantial evidence, was lynched for the'murder of Jack Sanford. The colonel is said to have endeavored to prevent this lynching, but none the less considered himself in honor bound to make some sort of reparation to the sufferers, and he presented the Carters with the farm which they had been occupying 
 
 THE SONS OF HAM. 
 
327 
 
as tenants. This act is seen to be the more noble when it is known that Colonel Sanford is comparatively a poor man. 
" The theories of this unusual man may not be practi cal, but he unquestionably has the good of his section and the whole country, the blacks as well as the whites, at heart. He is a genuine patriot, -- a vastly different speci men from the creature who blatantly proclaims himself such at election times and concerns himself no more about it later on. He thinks there is little hope for the South, the whites or the blacks, apart from the gradual removal of the latter to Africa ; and certainly there is some thing radically wrong in the present situation. 
*' But the poor old Colonel is discouraged, seeing little or no hope at present for his colonization scheme, and for these reasons: The negro in the mass is poverty-stricken, helpless, living from hand to mouth, having as yet devel oped almost no capacity for organization or concerted action. The North is not inclined to sympathize with the scheme because it does-not feel the pinch (some day it may), and because of sentiment, -- a sentiment which would seem to accord the freed slave the right to remain in the South and acquire a supremacy over his former master; in other words, to overturn the State and stand it on its head, in return for the wrongs of slavery. On the other hand, the South, from sad and hopeless experience, listens with apathy to the suggestion, regarding the negro as an immovable incubus, an old man of the sea which cannot be shaken off. Besides this, the planter selfishly fears that he will lose his crops while the negro is being exchanged for the white foreign immigrant. 
"Such being the present situation, the thoughtful ob- 
 
 328 
 
SONS OF HAM. 
 
server is oppressed with misgivings as he contemplates the future. What public and private disasters are to come through the negro's easily cajoled and venal vote, through his rapid increase and future numerical supremacy, through the fires of race hate, now carefully smothered on his <-- the weaker -- side, and only now and then bursting forth to remind the world of what watches and waits behind the screen of servility and circumspection,-- no human mind can estimate or foresee." 
 
THE END. 
 
 THE WEDDING GARMENT. 
a QTale of t&e life to <orae 
BY LOUIS PENDLETON. 
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" The Wedding Garment" tells the story of the continued existence of a young roan after his death or departure from the natural world. Awakening in the other world, -- in an intermediate region between Heaven and Hell, where the good and the evil live together temporarily commingled, --he is astonished and delighted to find himself the same man in all respects as to every characteristic of his mind and ultimate of the body. So closely does everything about him resemble the world he has left behind, that he believes he is still in the latter until convinced of the error. The young man has good impulses, but is no saint, and he listens to the persuasions of certain persons who were his fnends in the world, but who are now numbered among the evil, even to the extent of following them downward to the very confines of Hell. Resisting at last and saving him self, later on, and after many remarkable experiences, he gradually makes his way through the intermediate region to the gateways of Heaven, -- which can be found only by those prepared to enter, -- where he is left with the prospect before him of a blessed eternity in the company of the woman he loves. 
The book is written in a reverential spirit, it is unique and quite unlike any story of the same type heretofore published, full of telling incidents and dramatic situations, and not merely a record of the doings of sexless "shades 1 ' but of living human beings. 
The one grand practical lesson which this book teaches, and which is in accord with the divine Word and the New Church un foldings of it everywhere teach, is the need of an interior, true purpose in life. The deepest ruling purpose which we cherish, what we constantly strive for and determine to pursue as the most real and precious thing ot life, that rules us everywhere, that is our ego, our life, is what will have its way at last. It will at last break through all dis guise ; it will bring all external conduct into harmony with itself. If it be an evil and selfish end, all external and fair moraines will melt away, and the man will lose his common sense and exhibit his insanities of opinion and will and answering deed on the surface. But if that end be good and innocent, and there be humility within, the outward disorders and evils which result from one's heredity or surroundings will finally disappear.-- Front Rev. John Goddard s disccmrte, July i, 1894. 
Putting aside the question as to whether the scheme of the soul's develop ment after death was or was not revealed to Swedenborg, whether or not the title of seer can be added to the claims of this learned student of science, all this need not interfere with the moral influence of this \\ork, although the weight of its instruction must be greatly enforced on the minds of those who believe in a later inspiration than the gospels. 
This story begins where others end ; the title of the first chapter, " I Die," commands attention; the process of the soul's disenthralmenfcis certainly in har mony with what we sometimes read in the dim eyes of friends we follow to the very gate of life. " By what power does a single spark hold to life so long_ . this lingering of the divine spark of life in a body growing cold? " It is the mission of the author to tear from Death its long-established thoughts of horror, and upon its entrance into a new life, the soul possesses such a power of adjust ment that no shock is experienced. -- Boston Transcript. 
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We welcome the light and merry pen of Miss Fair as one of the deftest that has been wielded in the style of to-day. She has written the cleverest and the most cynical sensation story of the season. -- Liverpool Daily Post. 
Slight as it is, the story is, in its way, strong. -- Literary World. Foil of bright paradox, and paradox which is no mere topsy-turvy play upon words, but the product of serious thinking upon life. One of the cleverest of recent novels. -- Star. It is foil of epigrammatic effects, and it has a certain thread of pathos calcu lated to win our spmpathy. -- Queen, The story is subtle and psychological after the fashion of modern psychology ; H is undeniably clever and smartly written, -- GexileTtxrman. No ooe can deny its freshness and wit Indeed there are things in it here and there which John Oliver Hobbes herself might have signed without loss of repu tation. -- Wffma*, There is a lurid power in the very unreality of the story. One does not quite understand how Lady Geraldine worked herself up to shooting her lover; bat when she has done it, the description of what passes through her mind is magnificent -- Atkentnti*. Written by an obviously clever woman. -- Black and White. Miss Fair has taJent. "The Dancing Faun " contains writing that is distinc tively good. Doubtless it is only a prelude to something much stronger.-- Acadrmy. As a work of art, the book has the merit of brevity and smart writing, while the dkuntcmfnt is skilfully prepared, and comes as a surprise If the book had been intended as a satire on the " new woman " son of literature, it would have been most brilliant; but assuming it to be written in earnest, we can heartily praise the form of its construction without agreeing with the sentiments expressed. St. James's Gasfttt. Shows considerable power and aptitude. -- Saturday Review. Miss Farr is a clever writer whose apprenticeship at playwriting can easily be detected in the epigrammatic conversations with which this book is filled, and whose characters expound a philosophy of life which strongly recalls Oscar Wilde's later interpretations. . . . The theme of the tale is heredity developed in a most unpleasant manner. The leading idea that daughters inherit the father's qualities, good or evil, while sons resemble their mother, is well sustained -- Home Journal, 
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 POOR FOLK. 
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A capable critic writes : " One of the most beautiful, touching stories I have read. The character of the old clerk is a masterpiece, a. kind of Russian Charles Lamb. He reminds me, too, of Anatole France's 'Sylvestrj Bonnard,' but ir is. a more poignant, moving figure. How wonderfully, too, the sad little strokes of humor are blended into the pathos in his characterization, and how fascinating all the naive self-revelations of his poverty become, -- all his many ups and downs and hopes and fears. His unsuccessful visit to the money-lender, his despair at the office, unexpectedly ending in a sudden burst of good fortune, the final despair ing cry of his love for Varvara,--these hold one breathless One can hardly read them without tears. . . . But there is no need to say all that could be said about the book. It is enough to say that it is over powerful and beautiful." 
We are glad to welcome a good translation of the Russian Dostoievsky's story " Poor Folk," Englished by Lena Milman. It is a tale of unrequited love, conducted in the form of letters written between a poor clerk and his girl cousin whom he devotedly loves, and who finally leaves him to marry a man not admir able in character who, the reader feels, will not make her happy. The pathos of the book centres in the clerk, Makar's, unselfish affection and his heart-break at being left lonesome by his charming kinswoman whose epistles have been his one solace. In the conductment of the story, realistic sketches of middle class Rus sian life are given, heightening the effect of the denoument. George Moore writes a sparkling introduction to the book, -- Hartford Courant. 
Dostoievsky is a great artist. "Poor Folk" is a great novel. --Boston. A dvertiser. 
It is a most beautiful and touching story, and will linger in the mind long after the book is closed. The pathos is blended with touching bits of humor, that are even pathetic in themselves. -- Boston Times. 
^ Notwithstanding that " Poor Folk " is told in that most exasperating and entirely unreal style --by letters -- it is complete in sequence, and the interest does not flag as the various phases in the sordid life of the two characters are developed. The theme is intensely pathetic and truly human, while its treat ment is exceedingly artistic. The translator, Lena Milman, seems to have well preaerved the spirit of the original -- Cambridge Tri&une. 
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DISCORDS. 
91 Bolumt of *tont6. 
BY GEORGE EGERTON, author of " Keynotes." 
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George Egerton's new relume entitled " Discords," a collection of short stories, is more talked about, just DOW, than any other fiction of the day. The collection is really stones for'story-writers. They are precisely the quality which literary folk will wrangle over, Harold Freder.c cables from London to the " New York Times " that the book is making a profound impression there. It is published on both sides, the Roberts House bringing it out in Boston. George Egerton, like George Eliot and George Sand, is a woman's nom d* flume. The extraordinary frankness with which life in general is discussed in these stories not unnaturally arrests attention -- Lilian WTutmg. 
The English woman, known as yet only by the name of George Egerton, who made something of a stir in the world by a volume of strong stories called " Keynotes," has brought out a new book under the rather uncomfortable title of " Discords." These stories show us pessimism run wild; the gloomy things that can happen to a human being are so dwelt upon as to leave the impression that in the author's own world there is no light. The relations of the sexes are treated of in bitter irony, which develops into actual horror as the pages-pass. But in all this there is a rugged grandeur of style, a keen analysis of motive, and a deepness of pathos that stamp George Egerton as one of the greatest women writers of the day. " Discords " has been called a volume of stories; it is a misnomer, for the book contains merely varying episodes in live* of men and women, with no plot, no beginning nor ending. -- Bosttm Traveller. 
This is a new volume of psychological stories from the pen and brains of George Egerton, the anthor of a Keynotes." Evidently the titles of the author's books are selected according to musical principles. The first story in the book is "A Psycho logical Moment at Three Periods." It is all strength rather than sentiment. The story of the child, of the girl, and of the woman is told, and told by one to whom the mysteries of the life of each are fami!iarly known. In their very truth, as the wrifer has so subtly analyzed her triple characters, they sadden one to think that such things must be ; yet as'they are real, they are bound to be disclosed by somebody and in chie tine. The author betrays remarkable penetrative skill and perception, and dissects the human heart with a power from whose demonstration the sensitive nature may instinctively shrink even while fascinated with the narration and hypnotized by the treatment exhibited. -- Ctxritr. 
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Not since "The Story of an African Farm" was written has any woman de livered herself of so strong, so forcible a book. -- Queen. 
Knotty questions in sex problems are dealt with in these brief sketches. They are treated boldly, fearlessly, perhaps we may say forcefully, with a deep plunge into the realities of life. The colors are laid in masses on the canvas, while passions, temperaments, and sudden, subtle analyses take form under the quick, sharp stroke. Though they contain a vein of coarseness and touch slightly upon tabooed subjects, they evidence power and thought. -- Public Opinion. 
Indeed, we do not hesitate to say that "Keynotes'* is the strongest volume of short stories that the year has produced. Further, we wou'd wacer a good deal, were it necessary, that George Egerton is a nom-de-plume. and of a. woman, too. Why is it that so many women hide beneath a man's name when they enter the field of authorship? And in this case it seems doubly foolish, the work is so intensely strong. . . . 
The chief characters of these stones are women, and women drawn as only a woman can draw word-pictures of her own sex. The subtlety of analysis is wonderful, direct in its effectiveness, unerring in its truth, and stirring in its reveal ing power. Truly, no one but a woman could thus throw the light of revelation upon her own sex. Man does not understand woman as does the author of "Keynotes." 
The vitality of the stories, too, is remarkable. Life, very real life, is pictured ; life full of joys and sorrows, happinesses and heartbreaks, courage and self-sacrifice; of self-abnegation, of struggle, of victory- The characters are intense, yet not overdrawn; the experiences are dramatic, in one sen ce or another, and yet are never hyper-emotional. And all is told with a power of concentration that is simply astonishing. A sentence does duty for a chapter, a paragraph for a picture of years of experience. 
Indeed, for vigor, originality, forcefulness of expression, and completeness of character presentation, " Keynotes" surpasses any recent volume of short fiction that we can recall. -- Times, Boston. 
It brings a new quality and a striking new force into the literature of the hour. -- The Speaker. 
The mind that conceived " Keynotes " is so strong and original that one will look with deep interest for the successors of this first book, at once powerful and appealingly feminine. -- Irish Independent. 
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A CHILD OF THE AGE. 
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(KEYNOTES SERIES.) 
With titlepage by AUBREY BEARDSLEY. i6mo. Cloth. Price, $1.00. 
This story by Francis Adams was originally published under the title of "Leicester, an Autobiography," in 1884, when the author was only twenty-two years of age. That would make him thirty-two years old now, if he were still living. He was but eighteen years old whet: it was first drafted by him. Sometime after publicatiot, he revised the work, and in its present form it is now published again, practi cally a posthumous production. We can with truthfulness characterize it as a tale of fresh originality, deep spiritual meaning, and exceptional power. It fairly buds, blossoms, and fruits with suggestions that search the human spirit through. No similar production has come from the hand of any author in our time. That Francis Adams would have carved out a remarkable career for himself had he continued to live, this little volume, all compact with significant suggestion, attests on many a page. It exalts, inspires, comforts, and strengthens all together. It instructs by suggestion, spiritualizes the thought by its elevating and purifying narrative, and feeds the hungering spirit with food it is only too ready to accept and assimilate. Those who read its pages with an eager curiosity the first time will be pretty sure to return to them for a second slower and more meditative perusal. The book is assuredly the promise and potency of great things unattained in the too brief life time of its gifted author. We heartily commend it as a book not only of remarkable power, but as the product of a human spirit whose merely intellectual gifts were but a fractional part of his inclusive spiritual endowments. -- Boston Courier. 
Bat it is a remarkable work-- ss a pathological study almost unsurpassed. It produces the impressior of a photograph from life, so vividly realistic is the treatment. To this result the author's style, with its fidelity of microscopic detail, doubtless contributes. -- Evening Traveller. 
This story by Francis Adams is one to read slowly, and then to resd a seem d time. It is powerfully written, full of strong suggestion, unlike, in fact, anything ve have recently read. What he would have done in the way of literary creation, had he lived, is, of course, only a matter of conjecture. What he did we have before us in this remarkable book. -- Boston A dveriiser. 
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 Balzac tn English. 
 
PIERRETTE 
AND 
VICAR OK TOURS. 
BY HONORS DE BALZAC. 
Translated by Katharine Prescott Wormeley. 
 
In Pierrette, which Miss Wormeley has added to her series of felicitous 
 
\ 
 
translations from the French master-nctipnists, Balzac has made within 
 
{ 
 
brief compass a marvellously sympathetic study of the martyrdom of a 
 
I 
 
young girl. Pierrette, a flower of Brittany, beautiful, pale, and fair and 
 
f 
 
sweet, is taken as an undesired charge by sordid-minded cousins in Pro- 
 
/ 
 
vins, and like an exotic transplanted into a harsh and sour so'l she withers 
 
and fades under the cruel conditions of her new environment.  Inciden- 
 
tally Balzac depicts in vivid colors the struggles of two shon-keepers -- a 
 
brother and sister, who have amassed a little fortune in Paris -- to gain a 
 
foothold among the bourgeoisie of their native town. These two become 
 
the prey of conspirators for political advancement, and the rivalries thus 
 
engendered shake the small provincial society to its centre. Put the 
 
charm of the tale is in the portrayal of the character of Pierretle, who 
 
understands only how to love, and who cannot live in an atmosphere of 
 
suspicion and ill-treatment. The story is of course sad, but its fidelity to 
 
life and the pathos of it are elements of unfailing interest. Balzac brings 
 
a score or more of people upon the stage, shows each one as he or she 
 
really is both in outward appearance and inward nature, and then allows 
 
motives and circumstances to work out an inevitable result. To watch 
 
this process is like being present at some wonderful chemical experiment 
 
where the ingredients are mixed with a 4e^ and careful hand, and combine 
 
to produce effects of astonishing significance. The social genesis of the 
 
old maid in her most abhorrent form occupies much of Balzac's attention 
 
in Pierrette, and this theme also has a place in the story of The Vicar of 
 
Tours, bound up in this same volume. The vicar is a simple-minded 
 
priest who is happy enough till he takes up his quarters with an old maid 
 
landlady, who pesters and annoys him in many ways, and finally sends him 
 
forth despoiled of his worldly goods and a laughing-stock for the country 
 
side. There is a great deal of humor in the tale, but one must confess 
 
that the humor is of a rather heavy sort, it being weighed down by a domi 
 
nant satirical purpose. -- The Beacon, 
 
 
 
One handsome I2mo volume, uniform with " Pere Goriot,** " The Duchesse de Langeais," " Cesar Birotteau," " Eugenic Grandet," " Cousin Pons,'? " The Country Doctor," " The Tw Brothers," and " The Alkahest." Half morocco, French style. Price, $1.50. 
 
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BALZAC IN ENGLISH. 
Lust Elusions: Tie Tio Poets, anil Eve 
BY HONORE DE BALZAC. 
Being the twenty-third volume of Miss Wormeley's translation of 
Balzac's novels. I2mo. Half Russia. Price, 1.50. 
For her latest translation of the Balzac fiction cycle, Miss Wormeley gives us the first and third parts of " Illusion Perdue," under the caption of " Lost Illusions," namely, "The Two Poets" and " Eve and David." This arrange ment is no doubt a good one, for the readers are thus enabled to follow the consecu tive fortunes of the Angouleme folk, while the adventures of Eve's poet-brother, Lucien, which occur in Par's and make a tale by themselves, are thus left for a separate publication. The novel, as we have it, then, belongs to the category of those scenes from provincial life which Balzac found so stimulating to his genius. This story, certainly, in some respects takes high rank among them. The character-drawing is fine: Lucien, the ambitious, handsome, weak-willed, selfish, aodeasily-sintung young bourgeois, is contrasted with David, -- a touching picture of the struggling investor, born of the people and sublimely one-purposed and pore in bis life. Eve, the type of a faithful large-brained and larger-hearted wife. who supports her husband through all his hardships with unfaltering courage and kindness, is another nob'.e creation. David inherits a poorish printing business from his skin-flint of a father, neglects it while devoting all his time and energy to his discovery of an improved method of making paper: and through the evu 'machinations of the rival printing firm of the Cointets, as well as the debts foisted on him by Lucien in Pans, he is brought into money difficulties and even into prison. Bat his invention, although sold at ;i sacrifice to the cunning Cointets, gets him out of the hole at last, and he and his good wife retire on a comfortable competency, which is augmented at the death of his father into a good-sized fortune. The seamy side of law in the provinces is shown up in Balzac's keen, inimitable way in the description of the winding of the coils around the unsuspect ing David and the depiction of such men as the brothers Cointets and the shrewd Ertle petifogging rascal, Petit Claud. The pictures of Angouleme aristocratic drdes, too, with Lucien as high pnest, are vivacious, and show the novelist's wonderful observation in all ranks of life. The bit of wild romance by which Laden becomes the secretary of a Spanish grandee lends a fairy-tale flavor to tne main episodes. Balzac, in whom is united the most lynx-eyed realism and the most extravagant romanticism, is ever and always one of the great masters in fiction of oar century 
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BALZAC IN ENGLISH. 
A GREAT MAN OLE PROVINCES IN PARIS. 
BY HONORE DE BALZAC. 
Being the second part of " Lost Illusions." Translated by Kath arine Prescott Wormeley, i2mo. Half Russia. Price, $1.50. 
" A Jreat Man of rhe Provinces in Paris " (Part Second of " Lost Illusions ") is a formidable revelation of journalistic "enterprise" under the Restoration, such as only an eye-witness or a real sufferer could give. The thread of the story of ** Lost Illusions" is again taken up, with the weak and brilliant figure of Lucien Chardon, and carried through all the complications and entanglement* of Parisian newspaper 'ife. He elopes with a " married flirt," and is speedily disillusioned when he arrives in the metropolis, by finding his goddess old, ugly, and ridiculous in comparison with the style and charm of the Parisian eltgante. He himself, handsome as an angel, gifted, poetic, but shifty, is a true type of the provincial Apollo Belvedere marching forth to conquer the worlds of fashion and literature, without any resources but his beauty and his wit. Balzac, the matchless delineator of the Empire and the Restoration, introduces this curled darling (wonderfully like Alfred de Mussel!) into the arcana of jour nalism, makes him the pivot of suppers and scenes characteristic of the tijne of Louis XVIII., shows him every variety of the genus publisher then flourishing, gives us fascinating glimpses of the great world of the Bourbons, and sets Lucien in an entrancing environment of gorgeous vice in which one illusion alter another i mercilessly dispelled. Noble and beautiful chapters and faces occur by the way to redeem the ugliness and unrighteousness of the rest. Balzac has never painted a more pathetic face than poor fallen Coralie's, or a more striking and noble-minded group than the Brotherhood Such features redeem a book charged with the foulness of a life inconceivable to Anglo-Saxon minds, and unfit for any pure soul to become familiar with, even through the brilliant, mirageproducing medium of a genius like Balzac's, -- The Critic. 
The art of Balzac, the wonderful power of his contrast, the depth of his knowledge of life and men and things, this tremendous story illustrates. How admirably the rise of the poet is traced; the crescendo is perfect in gradation, yet as inexorable as fate. As for the fall, the effect is more depressing than a personal catastrophe. This is a book to read over and over, an epic of life in prose, more tremendous than the blank verse of " Paradise Lost" or the ' Divine Comedy." Miss Wormeley and the publishers deserve not congratula tions alone, but thanks for adding this book and its predecessor, " Lost Illusions," to the literature of English. -- San Francisco Wave. 
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BALZAC IN ENGLISH. 
OF 
(L'EHVERS DE UHI870IRE CON7EMPORAINE.) 
BY HONORE DE BALZAC. 
f. Madame de la Chanterie. 2. The Initiate. Translated by Katharine Prescott Wormeley. I2mo. Half Russia. Price, $1.50. 
There is no book of Balzac which is informed by a loftier spirit than " L'Envers de 1'Histoire Contemporaine," which has just been added by Miss WormeJey to her adnrrable series of translations under the tide, "The Brother hood of Consolation." The title which is given to the translation is, to our thinking, a happier one than that which the work bears in the original, since, after ail, the political and historical portions of the book are only the background of the other and more absorbing theme, -- the development of the brotherhood over which Madame de la Chanterie presided. It is true that there is about it all something theatrical, something which shows the French taste for making godli ness itself histrionically effective, that quality of mind which would lead a Parisian to criticie the coming of the judgment angels if their entrance were not happily arranged and properly executed ; but in spite of this there is an elevation such as it is rare to meet with in literature, and especially in the literature of Balzac's age and land. The story is admirably told, and the figure of the Baron Bourlac is reaOy noble in its martyrdom of self-denial and heroic patience. The picture of the Jewish doctor is a most characteristic piece of work, and shows Balzac's intimate touch in every line. Balzac was always attracted by the mystical side of the physical nature ; and it might almost be said that everything that savored of mystery, even taoogh it ran obviously into quackery, had a strong attraction for him. He pictures Halpersohn with a few strokes, but his picture of him has a striking vitality and reality. The volume is a valuable and attractive addition to the series to which it belongs; and the series comes as near to fulfilling the ideal o' what translations should be as is often granted to earthly things. -- Boston C+ 
The book, which is one of rare charm, is one of the most refined, while at the time tragic, of all his works. -- Public Opinion. 
Hi* present'work is a fiction beautiful in its conception, just one of those practical ideals which Balzac nourished and believed in. There never was greater homage than be pays to the book of books, " The Imitation of Jesos Christ." Mew Wormeley has here accomplished her work just as cleverly as in her other 
of Bakac. -- N. Y. Timtt. 
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 BALZAC IN ENGLISH. 
An Historical Mystery. 
Translated by KATHARINE PRESCOTT WORMELEY. 12mo. Half Buna. Uniform with Balzac's Works Price, $1.60. 
An Historical Mysttry\* the title given to" Une Tene"breuse Affaire," which has just appeared in the series of translations of Honore" de Balzac's novels, by Katharine Prescott Wbrmeley This exciting romance is full of stirring interest, and is distinguished by that minute analysis of character in which its eminent author excelled The characters stand boldly out from the surrounding incidents, and with a fidelity as wonderful as it is truthful. Plot and counterplot follow each other with marvellous rapidity; and around the exciting days when Na poleon was First Consul, and afterward when he was Emperor, a mystery is wpven in which some royalists are concerned that is concealed with masterly ingenuity until the novelist sees fit to take his reader into his confidence. The heroine, Laurence, is a remarkably strong character; and the love-story in which she figures is refreshing in its departure from the beaten path of the ordinary writer of fiction. Michu, her devoted servant, has also a marked individuality, which leaves z. lasting impression. Napoleon, Talleyrand, Fouche", and other historical personages, appear in the tale in a manner that is at once natural and impressive. As an addition to a remarkable series, the book is one that no admirer of Balzac can afford to neglect. Miss Wormeley's translation reproduces the peculiarities of the author's style with the faithfulness for which she has hitherto been celebrated. -- Saturday Evtning Gazette. 
It makes very interesting reading at this distance of time, however; and Balzac has given to the legendary account much of the solidity of history by his adroit manipulation. For the main story it must be said that the action is swifter and more varied than in many of the author's books, and that there are not wanting many of those cameo-like portraits necessary to warn the reader against slovenly perusal of this carefully written story; for the complications are such, and the re lations between the several plots involved so intricate, that the thread might easily be lost and much of the interest be thus destroyed The usual Balzac compactness is of course present throughout, to give body and significance to the work, and the stage is crowded with impressive figures. It would be impossible to find a book which gives a better or more faithful illustration of one of the strangest periods in French history, in short; and its attraction as a story is at least equalled by its value as a true picture of the time it is concerned with. The translation is as spirited and close as Miss Wormeley has taught us to expect in this admirable series. --New York Triburu. 
One of the most intensely interesting novels that Balzac ever wrote is An Historical Mystery, whose translation has just been added to the preceding novels that compose the "Come'die Humaine " so admirably translated b^ Miss Katharine Prescott Wormeley. The story opens in the autumn of 1803, in the time of the Empire, and the motive is in deep-laid political plots, which are re vealed with the subtle and ingenious skill that marks the art of Balzac. . . The story is a deep-laid political conspiracy of the secret service of the ministry of the police. Talleyrand, M'De de Cinq-Cygne, the Princess de Cadigan, Louis XVIII., as well as Napoleon, figure as characters of this thrilling historic ro mance. An absorbing love-story is also told, in which State intrigue plays an important part. The character-drawing is faithful to history, and the story illu minates French life in the early years of the century as if a calcium light were thrown on the scene. 
It is a romance of remarkable power and one of the most deeply fascinating of all the novels of the ''Comedie Humaine." 
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 Messrs* Roberts Brothers' Publications. 
 
A MEMOIR OF HONOR! DE BALZAC. 
 
Compiled and written by KATHARINE PRESCOTT WORMELEY, translate* of Balzac's works. With portrait of Balzac, taken one hour after death, by Eugene Girand, and a Sketch of the Prison of the College de Yenddste. One volume, 12010. Half Russia, uniform with oar edition of Balzac's works. Price, $1.50. 
A f^ipM* Sfc of Balnr can probably never be written. The sole object of the present volume is to present Balzac to American readers. This memoir is 
at to be a presentation of the man, -- and not of his work, except as it was a 'himself -- derived from authentic sources of information, and presented in 
their wn words, with such simple elucidations as a dos* intercourse with Balzac's nod, necessitated by conscientious translation, naturally gives. The portrait m this volume was considered by Madame de Balzac the best likeness of her 
 
Miss Wonneley's discussion of the subject is of value in many ways, and it hat 
 
loog been "^H** as a help to comprehension of bis life and character. Person 
 
ally, he fired op to his theory. His life was in fact austere. Any detailed ac- 
 
cooBt of the conditions under which he worked, such as are given in this volume, 
 
that this most have been the case; and the fact strongly reinforces the 
 
Miss Wormeley, in arranging her account of his career, has, almost 
 
of necessity, made free use of the letters and memoir published by Balzac's sister, 
 
**rf*TM* SorrQle. She has also, whenever it would serve the purpose of illus- 
 
n better, qnoted from the sketches of him by his contemporaries, wisely 
 
*-- '*" trivialities and frivolities by the exaggeration of which many of his 
 
i bent upon giving the great author a kind of opera-booffe 
 
_w _ To judge from some of these accounts, he was flighty, irresponsible, 
 
possibly a Stoe mad, prone to lose touch of actualities by the dominance of his 
 
-- " "' , food of wild and impracticable schemes, and altogether an eccentrip 
 
parson. But it is not difficult to prove that Balzac was quite a 
 
different character; that be possessed a marvellous power of intellectual organi 
 
zation ; that bt was the most methodical and indefatigable of workers; that he 
 
a man of a most delicate sense of honor; that his life was not simply de- 
 
voted to literary ambition, but was a martyrdom to obligations which were bis 
 
misfortune, but not his fault 
 
AH this Miss Wormley has well set forth ; and in doing so she has certainly 
 
neBeftd Balzac of much unmerited odium, and has enabled those who have not 
 
, 
 
mde a. stady of his character and work to understand how high the place is in 
 
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any estimate of the helpers of modern progress and enlightenment to which his 
 
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--- ?-i and the loflfnest of bis aims entitle him. This memoir is a very modest 
 
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pby, though, a very good one. The author has effaced herself as much as 
 
j 
 
and ha* refied upon " documents " whenever they were trustworthy. -- 
 
{ 
 
Y. Tr&a*. 
 
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in 
THE VILLAGE RECTOR. 
BY HONORE DE BALZAC. 
Translated by KATHARINE PRESCOTT WORMELEY. i2mo. Half Russia. Price, 11.50. 
ONCE more that wonderful acquaintance which Balzac had with all callings appean. manifest in th>* work. Would you get to the bottom of the engineer's occupation in r-^r.itf.' Balzac presents it in the whole system, with its aspects, disadvantages, and the excellence of the work accomplished. We write to-day of irrigation and of arboriculture as if they were novelties ; yet in the waste lands of Montagnac, Balzac found these topics; and what he wrote is the dearest exposition of the subjects. 
But, above all, in " The Village Rector " is found the most potent of religious ideas, -- the one that God grants pardon to sinners. Balzac had studied and appreciated the intensely human side of Catholicism and its adapriveness to the wants of mankind. It is religion, with Balzac, " that opens to us an inexhaustible treasure of indulgence." It is true repentance that saves. 
The drama which is unrolled in "The Village Rector" is a terrible one, and perhaps repugnant to our sensitive minds. The selection of such a plot, pitiless as it is, Balzac made so as to present the darkest side of human nature, and to show how, through God's pity, a soul might be saved. The instrument of mercy is the Rector Bonnet, and in the chapter entitled "The Rector at Work" he shows how religion " extends a man's life beyond the world." It is not sufficient to weep and moan. "That is but the beginning; the end is action." The rector urges the woman whose sins are great to devote what remains ol her life to work for the benefit of her brothers and sisters, and so she sets about reclaim ing the waste lands which surround her chateau. With a talent of a superlative order, which gives grace to Veronique, she is like the Madonna of some old panel' of Van Eyck's. Doing penance, she wears dose to her tender skin a haircloth vestment For love of her, a man has committed murder and died and kept his secret. In her youth, Veronique's face had been pitted, but her saintly life had obliterated that spotted mantle of smallpox. Tears had washed out every blemish. If through true repentance a soul was ever saved, it was Veronique's. This work, too, has afforded consolation to many miserable sinners, and showed them the way to grace. 
The present translation is to be dted for its wonderful accuracy and its literary distinction. We can hardly think of a more difficult task than the Englishing of Balzac, and a general reading public should be grateful for the admirable manner in which Miss Wormeley has performed her task. -- Neva York Timet. 
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2&al$at in 
MEMOIRS OF Two YOUNG MARRIED WOMEN. 
BY HONORE DE BALZAC. 
Translated by KATHARINE PRESCOTT WORMELEY. i2mo. Half Russia. Price, $1.50. 
are," says Henry James in one of his essays, "two writers in --the spontaneous one and the reflective one, the former of which is much the more delightful, while the latter is the more extraordi nary." It is the reflective Balzac, the Balzac with a theory, whom we get in the * Deux Jeunes Marie"es," now translated by Miss Wormeley under the title of " Memoirs of Two Young Married Women." The theory of Balzac is that the marriage of convenience, properly regarded, is far preferable to the marriage simply from love, and he undertakes to prove this proposition by contrasting the careers of two young girls who have been fellow-students at a convent. One of them, the ardent and passionate Lonise de Chaulieu, has an intrigue with a Spanish refugee, finally marries him, kills *>'"?, as she herself confesses, by her perpetual jealousy and exaction, mourns his loss bitterly, then marries a goldenhaired youth, lives with him in a dream of ecstasy for a year or so, and this time kffls herself through jealousy wrongfully inspired. As for her friend, Renee de Maucombe, she dutifully makes a marriage to please her its, calculates coolly beforehand how many children she will have and how they shall be trained; insists, however, that the marriage shall be merely a chrfl contract till she and her husband find that their hearts are indeed one; and sees all her brightest visions realized,--her Louis an ambitieas man for her sake and her children truly adorable creatures. The story, which is told in the form of letters, fairly scintillates with brffliant sayings, and is filled with eloquent discourses concerning the natare of love, conjugal and otherwise. Louise and Renee are both extremely sophisticated young women, even in their teens; and those .who expect to find in their letters the demure innocence of the AngloSaxon type win be somewhat astonished. The translation, under the c&enmstancesj was rather a daring attempt, but it has been most felitit~ coaly done. -- Tkt Beacon. 
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