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be there, and you'll have at least two to hang," and the agent returned to his office.

Within an half hour or so afterward Charles, accompanied by the General and the "guard" of the "stronghold," walked into the agent's office to thank him for his services. "No officer with you?"

"No."

"Have you made the bond?" "No."

"llow came you here, then?" "Walked."

Charles was in one of his teasing moods now, and it was the agent's turn to feel surprised.

"Well, how did you get out?"

"They opened the door, said they had no further use for me there, so I walked out," respondel the outcast.

"Well, I declare!" exclaimed the agent. "What d-n fools they are, to be sure."

When he had reached this point in his account of this event to me afterward Charles ceased for a moment. The General who was present, asked:

"Why not finish the story, and tell the Colonel what Uncle Jonathan saw that night?"

"I'm going to. I think it may be well to caution him that Jonathan's story is discredited by Colonel Black and the sheriff, and, as they are high-toned, honorable gentlemen, by G-d, sir, it were better not to repeat it."

"Well, what did Jonathan see?" I asked.

"The kuklux."

"You'll recollect, Albert," he continued, "that when we all left Tokeba, Uncle Jonathan got a little patch over near the mouth of the bayou that comes down from the piny road. Well, the day after my confinement in the common jail,

At the time the agent had not been made aware of what Mr. Barksdale was doing, therefore, his conduct was rather heroic, for Colonel Black and his allies at Jackson, within that "Central Democratic Association," were more powerful with General Gillem in such matters than any one else outside of Washington.

Uncle Jonathan came into our stronghold, looking as if half scared to death. He had seen the kuklux. He knew it must be them. There were many men, "a long string," on horseback. They had ridden far and rapidly, for their horses were foaming. Some carried guns. They came to the foot of the bluffs, where they met a man coming from town, with whom they conversed for some minutes, and then, with ranks somewhat demoralized, they turned about and rode away." But I was no longer in the common jail of Yazoo, under a charge of assault with intent to kill; therefore they could do nothing, that they could justify through the Associated Press dispatches, and the headquarters of the commandant of this district, and thus my life was spared."

*That same day we heard similar accounts from two other sources.

CHAPTER XXV.

BOYS, WHY DON'T YOU GET AWAY FROM THERE?-LETTERS FROM THE OLD HOME-CHARLES' FEVER-NEVER SAY DIE!

I

DON'T think I ever before saw Charles in quite so savage

a mood as he was at the close of his account of that "trial," and the subsequent proceedings. He paced up and down the floor of the stronghold for two mortal hours, during which he delivered himself of the most bitter invective against our Government that I ever listened to, or ever read; and what surprised me most was the perfect sympathy existing between him and the General

Yet nearly a week had passed since the occasion of it transpired. It seemed that the more we discussed it the more savage they became, and I feared they might never cool off.

During the so-called trial the General telegraphed the fact to me and asked for pecuniary aid; as much as $300. I at once wired our sister Helen and a brother the facts of the case and thus obtained the money. But the mails brought her letter, one from another sister, a brother, and one from father and mother. "Why do you boys remain there? "was the burden of each. "Our mother is nearly distracted," Helen wrote; and father reminded us of some wholesome advice he had volunteered at the outset of our journey

*There being no money in the State treasury and the Governor having refused to recognize the legality of the convention, no warrants were permitted to be drawn in favor of any member or officer of that body. The collection of a tax levied by the convention had been enjoined by the Central Democratic Association, and, therefore, I had as yet drawn no money from the State for my services.

Southward, and ventured to repeat a part of it. don't you leave that God-forsaken country!"

<< Why

There was one other. It's author couldn't "understand it at all." I had already told Charles of these letters, and he had received one from Helen-and a brave good woman she was our "best sister." But she had written: "Charles, why don't you come home?"

So, now, when his fever of wrath was at its height, I again called his attention to these letters, and handed him mother's.

The superscription was in the strong, ancient, well-known characters of our father, and the fact did not escape Charles" eye. His hand trembled for a moment as he crumpled the envelope, and then, quite petulantly, opened and began to read.

The first part was mother's. She began, almost at the beginning, to remind us how much she had suffered while her three "soldier boys" were at the front, Charles, William, and myself; of our long service; of her joy at our return, scarred, but whole in limb; how she had hoped to pass her last days in peace, with her children around her, and all that. But peace had not come to her, and she thought she had suffered enough and that we had done our share. She had not long to live, anyway. We could do no good for ourselves nor any one else where we were. Therefore, why not come home?

Then father. I believe he was one of the truest men that ever lived. His neighbors used to call him "honest George Morgan." His father and our mother's father fought in the Revolution. They had willingly given three of their sons to the war for the preservation of the liberties their fathers had won from the British. I had no recollection of having seen tears in Charles' eyes but twice before. This was the third time. As he proceeded with mother's letter, they stood trembling upon his eye-lids, but only for a brief space; then they flowed like great drops of grateful rain, and thus his fever

passed away. But, when he came to that "other" letter I thought I saw symptoms of its return; for he rose from the bed, upon which he had thrown himself-our only bed-and again paced the floor.

"Don't understand it all! No; they don't any of them understand. They couldn't understand dear old 'Pap' Thomas, nor Grant, nor Sherman; they couldn't understand Stanton nor Lincoln; they can't understand us! During the war they were so wrapped up in big prices for their wheat and in buying and selling, they couldn't find time to keep up with current history. Now they are so tamed by their fears that these poor, half-starved, half-naked, unarmed negroes may rise and slaughter their old masters and mistresses for what they have done to them in the past, and so full of tenderness and pity for whisky-guzzling, tobacco-smoking, swine-eating, scrofulous, lecherous, cowardly rebels, that they have forgotten our wounds; forgotten our generosity to these same rebels when our bayonets were at their throats, and to-day, if one of us should be shot down like a dog, or hung to a lamp-post, so that it were done in the common jail, or while under some foul charge, these same kind people would never be able to understand it, and would go down to their graves feeling that, somehow, we were in the wrong. I tell you, Albert, we must fight this thing out, if it takes our lives. The country don't understand it at all, and they won't understand it until we have furnished them proof upon proof, and they have come to see with their own eyes that the last state of the sick man of the South is worse than the first. Think of it! the negroes' only refuge is the Bureau, and you know how feeble, uncertain and treacherous are the means of protection that affords them. But here we are, without even so much as that-unless by a subterfuge, when the agent happens to be a man with some little of the milk of human kindness in his breast, and enough sand in his gizzard to support his backbone in a game of bluff. These same poor, despised negroes, after all, are our only protection, and they

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