CHAPTER XIII.THE SCALLAWAG.“Get thee gone!Death and destruction dog thee at the heels.*******If thou wilt outstrip death, go cross the seas,And live with Richard from the reach of hell.Go, hie thee from this slaughter-houseLest thou increase the number of the dead.”—King Richard III.WhenCol. Baker ordered Mrs. Marmor to leave her home, she would not ask shelter in the house of her nearest neighbor—that most Christian Jew, Dan Lemfield—lest her presence might jeopardise the safety of her husband; and she stood upon the doorsteps with her infant in her arms, and little Louie beside her, gazing up and down the street in utter dismay, and not knowing whither to flee. Only a few steps at her left was the drill-room, the centre about which all the warlike preparations were arranged, and every dwelling in the beleaguered square, except her own and Lemfield’s, was the abode of at least one colored family, and therefore clearly unsafe.“Where is my papa? Why don’t he come and go with us, mamma?” asked the little boy in the piping voice of childish grief.“Hush, child! Mamma’s glad he is not here. Keep still and maybe the soldiers won’t hurt us.”“Will they hurt us maybe, mamma?” The boy now began to wail piteously, and the babe cried in sympathy.“Hush, Louie! Mamma will tell you,” said Mrs. Marmor. She sat down upon the steps, in presence of the armed foe by which the street was occupied, and, placing her own person in range of any possible shot that might be aimed at Marmor’s boy, she spoke in low and rapid tones:—“If you cry, these men will see you; and if you keep still, maybe they won’t notice, and sister will keep still too. You don’t want little sister to get hurt. You will be a brave man, like papa, won’t you? Papa isn’t afraid, and he keeps still.”Pressing both his little hands over his mouth for an instant, and choking back one or two great sobs, the child looked up into his mother’s eyes, smiling through his tears, and repeated—“I cried unto God with my voice, even unto God with my voice, and he gave ear unto me. Mamma, there’s Mr. Dan. See! Mamma, see!”Turning, she saw the Jew at his door, beckoning her with earnest gesticulation, although beside him stood the burly Rufus Baker. As she approached, she heard Mr. Lemfield say something about hostages, and Baker replied with a significant wink and nod.“We will all die together, if we must,” said the distressed wife and mother, mentally.“Co im, Mrs. Marmor. Co im,” said Lemfield. “Don’t sthop out here mit de leetle kinder. You huspand go vay? Dat ish pad. May pe he’ll come.” A quick glance at hisshrewd face, and she accepted his invitation, and entered the hospitable door with her little ones.Dan soon followed, and taking her aside, said hastily, “You must not tell. You pe like you know not vare de man ist. I tink I co get old Bob and feed ’im viskey. Ven he trunk he shleeps much, and vants more viskey. He pe here he not tink you huspand be here; and ve knows he pe killing no mon. Now you take care.”Poor Mrs. Marmor took the cue quickly.Almost immediately after this the first gun fired. The Jew flew to the front door, and soon returned accompanied by the great bushy-whiskered negro-hunter, who was much excited.Mrs. Marmor feigned great uneasiness and anxiety for the safety of her husband, and could but shudder under the piercing eye of the old man, while Louie hid behind her chair and peeped out at him with the fascination of fear.Their host seemed to forget the presence of his other guests in his solicitude for Mr. Baker’s comfort.“You not pe vell I see. Dat ish pad. Vat ish te matter?”“I’m excited, and I reckon I’ve taken cold. Give me some whiskey,” replied the hypochondriac. “I’ve sweat too much. The day has been terribly hot!”“Ya. Dat ish goot. Col. Paker tole me shut up mine par; but I not open it to serve you. I shust pring it here, and you trink mit my family. Vill I make shling? oder toddy?”“O sling, sling.”“Alle right. Dat ish goot;” and Dan bustled away to the bar-room and brought a bottle of strong liquor, from which he soon mixed what he called “de ferry pest shling eber made in de country,” and with great show of solicitude presented it to the old man, who gulped it down and smacked his lips with evident satisfaction.In common with all mankind Robert Baker had an impressible point; and, as with every other tyrant, that point was vulnerable to flattery. By a discreet use of this depletive, and a vigorous administration of sling, and industrious cultivation of his hypochondriacal tendency, the Jew soon had him upon his back, and courting a perspiration which should relieve him of numerous imaginary ills. The rapid discharge of firearms upon the street, however, kept the patient nervous and excited; and Dan’s family screamed and exclaimed, and Mrs. Marmor and her boy wept silently as volley followed volley.“Where is my papa?” Louie sobbed into his mother’s ear; for to him “old man Baker” was an ogre, who would devour any little boy he chanced to observe.“Let us pray God to take care of him. He is taking care ofus. See, little sister is asleep.”“What makes you cry, mamma?”“Oh, just hear the guns? Somebody will get hurt,” and they wept and trembled together, while Lemfield continued to ply his patient with whiskey, till even his eagerness for the fray could not master the oncoming stupor of drunkenness.Two hours or more passed thus, and it was dark, when fearful yells burst out, curdling the blood of every listener. They were like the jubilations of demons, and were soon followed by the booming of cannon.Couriers brought frequent advices of the progress of affairs, which Lemfield carefully received for the old man, and as carefully withheld from every occupant of the house except the refugee in the chamber.At the sound of the artillery, Baker rolled from the sofa, and gleefully exclaiming, “We’ll get ’em now —— them!” he reeled from the front to the rear door, pistol in hand, chafing under the restraint of his self-appointed nurse, like a hound in the leash when the horn of the huntsmen is heard.A tramping sound in the back yard drew both men to the door.“Who ish dat?” demanded Dan, peering into the darkness of a shady part of the enclosure.“There goes a —— nigger! Here he goes! Here he goes!” shouted the old slave-catcher.“Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!” cried the Jew; but while he yet spoke it was too late.“I’ve got ’im! I’ve got ’im!” cried the old man, running to his fallen game.“Co im quick! Co im quick, Meester Paker! Somebody vill shootyou,” and the excited little man caught the murderer’s arm and dragged him into the house, while the dusky form of Nat Wellman crept on all fours intoa yard still further to the rear, and found safety in a deeper shade.Filled with such terrors the night wore on, and Marmor’s were not the only infants that sobbed themselves to sleep in the midst of those dreadful alarms, though many were laid in the shadows of the cornfields or the dampness of the swamps that surrounded the besieged town.“Ich vill make ine shling, vat vill makeOld Bobshleep, so Ich vill!” muttered Dan, as he mixed a few drops of laudanum with a fresh mug of the steaming beverage. “Ich hab no more mens killed by mine house.”The patient was at length awakening great echoes in his bed room, with his stentorian breathings, notwithstanding renewed disturbances upon the premises, and that most Christian Jew stole up to Marmor’s retreat.“For your life, Meester Marmor, do co hide somevare! Dey pe hunt you, and say dey vill purn your house. Dey shware dey vill hab you. Dey say you be ine —— scallavag, ine republican, and dat you pringht ammunition to de nigger militia.”“It is false!” said Marmor, “the only ammunition I ever brought to this town is republican newspapers.”“Dat make no odds. Dat pad ’nough, dey tink, and dey pe hunt you; dey co tru mine house shust now. Dey find Shimmy’ (Jimmy, Marmor’s servant) in yo’ yard, and dey vip ’im to tell vo you ist; but he know notting.”The hunted man fled to the house top, where he lay long, listening to the crashing of his printing presses and furniture,and the shrieks and cries of colored women and children whom he saw violently dragged from their houses by fiendish men athirst for the blood of their husbands and fathers for whom they sought; and wondering if his own mother was suffering similar indignities, he blamed himself for hiding.He saw houses fired, in various directions, but the flames were soon extinguished by the less reckless of the assailants, or by the occupants, some of whom were thus captured.About two o’clock in the morning the tumult in his own house was renewed and increased; and, driven from their hiding place there, two colored men leaped from a window of the second story, upon a roof beneath it, and with almost superhuman effort, climbed upon that of a higher part of the building, and scarcely less miraculously escaped death by the pistol of their friend Marmor, who mistook them for foes.“For mercy’s sake don’t shoot!” cried one, just in time to arrest a second discharge.The three men lay flat upon the roof to avoid discovery, but the sound of the pistol and the voice had betrayed them, and several of the rioters attempted to follow the young men.Meanwhile the three men slipped down through the scuttle into Lemfield’s house.Obliged to abandon pursuit in that direction, the ruffians re-entered the window, descended to the street, and pouring into the next house, rushed to the stairs.“Vas fur you co up mine shtair? Co town! Ich say, co town!” cried Dan. “Ich been goot freund toebery man, so you shall not break mine tings. You must go vay, mine vamily pe sick up dar, and you will schare mine cronk poy so he co todt!” and pushing past them, he mounted the upper steps, still persisting in his opposition, and obstructing the way.“Ich no niggah, no’ publican, no notting dat votes’ cainst you. So you co vay!”“We won’t hurt you, nor your family, Dan, if we find you all right, but, (the reader must imagine the vilest and most profuse epithets and profanity), Louis Marmor is up there, and wewill have him. He’s a scallawag, and a republican, and is helping the niggers, and we must get him. He has got to die as well as the rest.”“Er nicht dar.”“You’re a lying Jew dog!”“Ich schvare youns, Louis Marmor ist not pout mine blace,py de beard of Abraham!”“You swear to that, do you?” asked the leader.“Ich schware! Ich schware!”“B-o-y-s, b-o-y-s,” said old man Baker, staggering from the couch where Mrs. Marmor had shaken him into consciousness, “Boys, oh, come back! come, come, come back! Dan’s a good fellow. I’m quite unwell, quite unwell,” drawled he, “and he has taken care of me and pro—pro—protected me from them —— niggers, and I’ll protect his house and family. Now just come back. Don’t go upthere. I’ve been here all night, so far, and hide nor hair o’ Louis Marmor ha’n’t been seen about here. I’ll vouch forthishouse, and guard it too. So don’t go up.”“If you say so, Mr. Baker, we’ll come back, but we thought he was thar sho’.”“Ha’n’t been about here to-night. I’ve been here and could see, and Dan’s all right.”The ruffians yielded, and the three men, who had been unable to reach the scuttle and escape, were saved; though, confident of a speedy return of their foes, the colored men immediately sought another place of concealment.The cries and pleadings of another captive were soon afterwards heard in the back-yard, and he was conveyed in triumph to the “dead-ring” which was still insatiable while ungraced by the persons of Marmor and Doc.Though the house was not again entered by the mob, so strong and general was the suspicion that Mr. Marmor was upon the Jew’s premises, that after his return to his home even Robert Baker was persuaded to believe it, and a vigilant watch was maintained several days thereafter.While Aunt Phœbe was hastening the preparation of Uncle Jesse’s breakfast the next morning, Jane Marmor sat beside her husband in the Jew’s chamber, and described the condition of things, as she had found them in their home; for she had already ventured there, and had looked in upon her mother-in-law, who had locked herself into her own little shop, and remained there, alone, and (strangely), unharmed, through the night.Harry Gaston, and Hanson, Tommy, and old man Baker relieved each other on watch all the next day, each being assisted by a band of trusted followers; and Marmor, close behind Dan’s window-shades, listened to their threats against himself, and their attempts to convince such negroes as ventured near them, that he, Kanrasp, and the “carpet-bag Governor,” were solely responsible for the massacre; and while his colored friends were anxiously conjecturing his fate, his experiences in the affair had scarcely begun.As the day declined, Mrs. Marmor joined her entreaties to those of their host, urging upon her husband the necessity of attempting escape, as there were indications of more decided search of the premises.Night came at length, and spread her dark mantle over the village; but the hunted man had scarcely escaped the house when the rising of the full moon made concealment almost impossible.As the weather was very warm, and he must make speed, he went without a coat. Choosing a time when the sentry had passed to the extreme of his beat, he walked up the street with apparently careless moderation, hoping to be mistaken for a laborer, and to reach a small station on the railroad three miles distant, before the arrival of the next train.This he accomplished in safety, but arrived too early.A congregation was gathering at a church near by, for the Sunday evening service; and as his lips wereparched with thirst, he approached and procured a drink of water.Several persons there knew Marmor, but as he had shaved his beard, and otherwise slightly disguised himself, they were not confident of his identity.However, on his return to the carriage-road, he was at once confronted by six armed men.The click of their gun-locks was his first intimation of their presence, and with the bound of a wild deer, he dashed into a black swamp hard by.His pursuers were mounted, and therefore could not enter it; but the swamp, though over a mile long, was narrow; and they hunted him on either side.It was a cane-break, and but for the extreme drought of the season, would have furnished but poor footing indeed.The tall, stiff reeds reached far above his head, and some skill was needful to break them over with the font and thus secure a standing-place. His hat was soon knocked off by a shot, and his low-quartered shoes lost in the mire. At length a place was reached where a point of firm land extended into the swamp, and on this several of his pursuers took position, (for their number had been increased), to cut him off, should he attempt to pass.They had lost sight of him, but as he approached he distinctly saw Robert Baker directly opposite and facing him, and not far distant. He noted the resolute bearing and determined visage of the old hunter; but felt himself still incompetent to fully sympathize with the hunted slaveof the former times; whom no arm in the State or nation was strong enough to deliver from his master, or this hired hunter and his blood-hounds.But, having little time for sentiment or reflection, he took a hasty survey of the positions of such of his pursuers as were in sight, deliberately approached the edge of the swamp, took aim at the old hunter, who he felt sure would not scruple to takehislife, and firing, ran rapidly in a direction he thought they would not suspect; and thus escaped for the time.But, instead of approaching the town as he intended to do, he wandered in a circuitous direction, and returned to the church.The services were over, and as he saw that many of the men were mounting horses, he retreated to the woods again, where he lay till morning.His pursuers inquired of the worshippers, and finally got upon his track the next morning, bringing their trained dogs. From that time till Wednesday morning they chased him up and down the woods and swamps. His feet were wounded and swollen, his bare head exposed to the burning July sun, and he had eaten nothing since Sunday morning.On Tuesday morning he became desperate, and resolved to leave the swamp. He did so, and ran along the road. On several occasions the dogs were upon him when he again intrenched himself among bushes surrounded by water, and lay watching, pistol in hand. But as he had noammunition besides that in his revolver, he determined to make that as useful as possible, and reserved for a probable extremity.Once they caught sight of him at two hundred yards distance and cried. “There he is! There’s the —— scallawag!” and hissed their dogs upon him.On Wednesday morning he eluded them and reached the residence of the Intendant of Baconsville, on the outskirts of the town. He was a pitiable object indeed; with clothing torn and covered with mud, feet bare, swollen and bleeding; fair broad brow burned to a blister, auburn hair, unkempt; famished, fainting, and only his determined energy left of his former self.Refreshed by a cup of coffee and a judicious breakfast, and a bath for his feet, he hobbled to his home, which he reached about ten o’clock.It had become his sole wish to see his family once more, and if he must die, to die with them; and his apprehensiveness had become so great that he with great difficulty persuaded to tarry at his neighbors for food. To be driven from home, and hunted through swamps and forests, like a ferocious beast, had become an insupportable thought.And whereforewashe?Because he sought through that great instrument of enlightenment, the press, to disseminate his political opinions, and the principles of a Republican government, and to strengthen and perpetuate the Union.An hour after reaching home he became aware that thefoe was on his track and approaching, but the house was kept closed, and guarded by leading citizens, and he remained till the afternoon of the following day; when, so disguised as to be unrecognized by familiar friends, he took the railroad train for the Capitol, and escaped.A band of those white ruffians boarded the train, and passed through it several times, enquiring for him, and even propounded their questions to him, without recognizing him.The horrors of this massacre were but the commencement of a succession which blackened the history of the political campaign of the year 1876 in the State of South Carolina, and in other Southern states, and disgraced the Republic in the sight of the nations she had invited to witness the successes she had achieved under a free and popular government.Is it asked what punishment was meted out to those miserable offenders?They were arrested, liberated for several months under bail of $500 each, and clearly convicted upon trial; but because the jury of twelve was empanelled upon a strictly party basis, and the six white men wereavowedlyopposed to conviction on any evidence, a mistrial ensued.As under “the conciliation policy” of the national administration which followed the next subsequent election, the United States’ troops which had been sent into the State at the request of the Governor were withdrawn, the defeated Democratic candidates for Governor and Legislature,supported by the unchartered and hence illegal rifle clubs usurped the State government, and all further proceedings against the rioters were dropped, and the notorious General Baker was elected to a seat in the Senate of the nation, by that spurious legislature of his State.Such is the justice, and such the tender mercies, to which have been consigned the emancipated slaves of the Southern States, and these and similar experiences have caused the “Exodus” of the freedmen to the great north-west.With such fearful odds, can the reader wonder at their seeming timidity?THE END.
CHAPTER XIII.THE SCALLAWAG.“Get thee gone!Death and destruction dog thee at the heels.*******If thou wilt outstrip death, go cross the seas,And live with Richard from the reach of hell.Go, hie thee from this slaughter-houseLest thou increase the number of the dead.”—King Richard III.WhenCol. Baker ordered Mrs. Marmor to leave her home, she would not ask shelter in the house of her nearest neighbor—that most Christian Jew, Dan Lemfield—lest her presence might jeopardise the safety of her husband; and she stood upon the doorsteps with her infant in her arms, and little Louie beside her, gazing up and down the street in utter dismay, and not knowing whither to flee. Only a few steps at her left was the drill-room, the centre about which all the warlike preparations were arranged, and every dwelling in the beleaguered square, except her own and Lemfield’s, was the abode of at least one colored family, and therefore clearly unsafe.“Where is my papa? Why don’t he come and go with us, mamma?” asked the little boy in the piping voice of childish grief.“Hush, child! Mamma’s glad he is not here. Keep still and maybe the soldiers won’t hurt us.”“Will they hurt us maybe, mamma?” The boy now began to wail piteously, and the babe cried in sympathy.“Hush, Louie! Mamma will tell you,” said Mrs. Marmor. She sat down upon the steps, in presence of the armed foe by which the street was occupied, and, placing her own person in range of any possible shot that might be aimed at Marmor’s boy, she spoke in low and rapid tones:—“If you cry, these men will see you; and if you keep still, maybe they won’t notice, and sister will keep still too. You don’t want little sister to get hurt. You will be a brave man, like papa, won’t you? Papa isn’t afraid, and he keeps still.”Pressing both his little hands over his mouth for an instant, and choking back one or two great sobs, the child looked up into his mother’s eyes, smiling through his tears, and repeated—“I cried unto God with my voice, even unto God with my voice, and he gave ear unto me. Mamma, there’s Mr. Dan. See! Mamma, see!”Turning, she saw the Jew at his door, beckoning her with earnest gesticulation, although beside him stood the burly Rufus Baker. As she approached, she heard Mr. Lemfield say something about hostages, and Baker replied with a significant wink and nod.“We will all die together, if we must,” said the distressed wife and mother, mentally.“Co im, Mrs. Marmor. Co im,” said Lemfield. “Don’t sthop out here mit de leetle kinder. You huspand go vay? Dat ish pad. May pe he’ll come.” A quick glance at hisshrewd face, and she accepted his invitation, and entered the hospitable door with her little ones.Dan soon followed, and taking her aside, said hastily, “You must not tell. You pe like you know not vare de man ist. I tink I co get old Bob and feed ’im viskey. Ven he trunk he shleeps much, and vants more viskey. He pe here he not tink you huspand be here; and ve knows he pe killing no mon. Now you take care.”Poor Mrs. Marmor took the cue quickly.Almost immediately after this the first gun fired. The Jew flew to the front door, and soon returned accompanied by the great bushy-whiskered negro-hunter, who was much excited.Mrs. Marmor feigned great uneasiness and anxiety for the safety of her husband, and could but shudder under the piercing eye of the old man, while Louie hid behind her chair and peeped out at him with the fascination of fear.Their host seemed to forget the presence of his other guests in his solicitude for Mr. Baker’s comfort.“You not pe vell I see. Dat ish pad. Vat ish te matter?”“I’m excited, and I reckon I’ve taken cold. Give me some whiskey,” replied the hypochondriac. “I’ve sweat too much. The day has been terribly hot!”“Ya. Dat ish goot. Col. Paker tole me shut up mine par; but I not open it to serve you. I shust pring it here, and you trink mit my family. Vill I make shling? oder toddy?”“O sling, sling.”“Alle right. Dat ish goot;” and Dan bustled away to the bar-room and brought a bottle of strong liquor, from which he soon mixed what he called “de ferry pest shling eber made in de country,” and with great show of solicitude presented it to the old man, who gulped it down and smacked his lips with evident satisfaction.In common with all mankind Robert Baker had an impressible point; and, as with every other tyrant, that point was vulnerable to flattery. By a discreet use of this depletive, and a vigorous administration of sling, and industrious cultivation of his hypochondriacal tendency, the Jew soon had him upon his back, and courting a perspiration which should relieve him of numerous imaginary ills. The rapid discharge of firearms upon the street, however, kept the patient nervous and excited; and Dan’s family screamed and exclaimed, and Mrs. Marmor and her boy wept silently as volley followed volley.“Where is my papa?” Louie sobbed into his mother’s ear; for to him “old man Baker” was an ogre, who would devour any little boy he chanced to observe.“Let us pray God to take care of him. He is taking care ofus. See, little sister is asleep.”“What makes you cry, mamma?”“Oh, just hear the guns? Somebody will get hurt,” and they wept and trembled together, while Lemfield continued to ply his patient with whiskey, till even his eagerness for the fray could not master the oncoming stupor of drunkenness.Two hours or more passed thus, and it was dark, when fearful yells burst out, curdling the blood of every listener. They were like the jubilations of demons, and were soon followed by the booming of cannon.Couriers brought frequent advices of the progress of affairs, which Lemfield carefully received for the old man, and as carefully withheld from every occupant of the house except the refugee in the chamber.At the sound of the artillery, Baker rolled from the sofa, and gleefully exclaiming, “We’ll get ’em now —— them!” he reeled from the front to the rear door, pistol in hand, chafing under the restraint of his self-appointed nurse, like a hound in the leash when the horn of the huntsmen is heard.A tramping sound in the back yard drew both men to the door.“Who ish dat?” demanded Dan, peering into the darkness of a shady part of the enclosure.“There goes a —— nigger! Here he goes! Here he goes!” shouted the old slave-catcher.“Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!” cried the Jew; but while he yet spoke it was too late.“I’ve got ’im! I’ve got ’im!” cried the old man, running to his fallen game.“Co im quick! Co im quick, Meester Paker! Somebody vill shootyou,” and the excited little man caught the murderer’s arm and dragged him into the house, while the dusky form of Nat Wellman crept on all fours intoa yard still further to the rear, and found safety in a deeper shade.Filled with such terrors the night wore on, and Marmor’s were not the only infants that sobbed themselves to sleep in the midst of those dreadful alarms, though many were laid in the shadows of the cornfields or the dampness of the swamps that surrounded the besieged town.“Ich vill make ine shling, vat vill makeOld Bobshleep, so Ich vill!” muttered Dan, as he mixed a few drops of laudanum with a fresh mug of the steaming beverage. “Ich hab no more mens killed by mine house.”The patient was at length awakening great echoes in his bed room, with his stentorian breathings, notwithstanding renewed disturbances upon the premises, and that most Christian Jew stole up to Marmor’s retreat.“For your life, Meester Marmor, do co hide somevare! Dey pe hunt you, and say dey vill purn your house. Dey shware dey vill hab you. Dey say you be ine —— scallavag, ine republican, and dat you pringht ammunition to de nigger militia.”“It is false!” said Marmor, “the only ammunition I ever brought to this town is republican newspapers.”“Dat make no odds. Dat pad ’nough, dey tink, and dey pe hunt you; dey co tru mine house shust now. Dey find Shimmy’ (Jimmy, Marmor’s servant) in yo’ yard, and dey vip ’im to tell vo you ist; but he know notting.”The hunted man fled to the house top, where he lay long, listening to the crashing of his printing presses and furniture,and the shrieks and cries of colored women and children whom he saw violently dragged from their houses by fiendish men athirst for the blood of their husbands and fathers for whom they sought; and wondering if his own mother was suffering similar indignities, he blamed himself for hiding.He saw houses fired, in various directions, but the flames were soon extinguished by the less reckless of the assailants, or by the occupants, some of whom were thus captured.About two o’clock in the morning the tumult in his own house was renewed and increased; and, driven from their hiding place there, two colored men leaped from a window of the second story, upon a roof beneath it, and with almost superhuman effort, climbed upon that of a higher part of the building, and scarcely less miraculously escaped death by the pistol of their friend Marmor, who mistook them for foes.“For mercy’s sake don’t shoot!” cried one, just in time to arrest a second discharge.The three men lay flat upon the roof to avoid discovery, but the sound of the pistol and the voice had betrayed them, and several of the rioters attempted to follow the young men.Meanwhile the three men slipped down through the scuttle into Lemfield’s house.Obliged to abandon pursuit in that direction, the ruffians re-entered the window, descended to the street, and pouring into the next house, rushed to the stairs.“Vas fur you co up mine shtair? Co town! Ich say, co town!” cried Dan. “Ich been goot freund toebery man, so you shall not break mine tings. You must go vay, mine vamily pe sick up dar, and you will schare mine cronk poy so he co todt!” and pushing past them, he mounted the upper steps, still persisting in his opposition, and obstructing the way.“Ich no niggah, no’ publican, no notting dat votes’ cainst you. So you co vay!”“We won’t hurt you, nor your family, Dan, if we find you all right, but, (the reader must imagine the vilest and most profuse epithets and profanity), Louis Marmor is up there, and wewill have him. He’s a scallawag, and a republican, and is helping the niggers, and we must get him. He has got to die as well as the rest.”“Er nicht dar.”“You’re a lying Jew dog!”“Ich schvare youns, Louis Marmor ist not pout mine blace,py de beard of Abraham!”“You swear to that, do you?” asked the leader.“Ich schware! Ich schware!”“B-o-y-s, b-o-y-s,” said old man Baker, staggering from the couch where Mrs. Marmor had shaken him into consciousness, “Boys, oh, come back! come, come, come back! Dan’s a good fellow. I’m quite unwell, quite unwell,” drawled he, “and he has taken care of me and pro—pro—protected me from them —— niggers, and I’ll protect his house and family. Now just come back. Don’t go upthere. I’ve been here all night, so far, and hide nor hair o’ Louis Marmor ha’n’t been seen about here. I’ll vouch forthishouse, and guard it too. So don’t go up.”“If you say so, Mr. Baker, we’ll come back, but we thought he was thar sho’.”“Ha’n’t been about here to-night. I’ve been here and could see, and Dan’s all right.”The ruffians yielded, and the three men, who had been unable to reach the scuttle and escape, were saved; though, confident of a speedy return of their foes, the colored men immediately sought another place of concealment.The cries and pleadings of another captive were soon afterwards heard in the back-yard, and he was conveyed in triumph to the “dead-ring” which was still insatiable while ungraced by the persons of Marmor and Doc.Though the house was not again entered by the mob, so strong and general was the suspicion that Mr. Marmor was upon the Jew’s premises, that after his return to his home even Robert Baker was persuaded to believe it, and a vigilant watch was maintained several days thereafter.While Aunt Phœbe was hastening the preparation of Uncle Jesse’s breakfast the next morning, Jane Marmor sat beside her husband in the Jew’s chamber, and described the condition of things, as she had found them in their home; for she had already ventured there, and had looked in upon her mother-in-law, who had locked herself into her own little shop, and remained there, alone, and (strangely), unharmed, through the night.Harry Gaston, and Hanson, Tommy, and old man Baker relieved each other on watch all the next day, each being assisted by a band of trusted followers; and Marmor, close behind Dan’s window-shades, listened to their threats against himself, and their attempts to convince such negroes as ventured near them, that he, Kanrasp, and the “carpet-bag Governor,” were solely responsible for the massacre; and while his colored friends were anxiously conjecturing his fate, his experiences in the affair had scarcely begun.As the day declined, Mrs. Marmor joined her entreaties to those of their host, urging upon her husband the necessity of attempting escape, as there were indications of more decided search of the premises.Night came at length, and spread her dark mantle over the village; but the hunted man had scarcely escaped the house when the rising of the full moon made concealment almost impossible.As the weather was very warm, and he must make speed, he went without a coat. Choosing a time when the sentry had passed to the extreme of his beat, he walked up the street with apparently careless moderation, hoping to be mistaken for a laborer, and to reach a small station on the railroad three miles distant, before the arrival of the next train.This he accomplished in safety, but arrived too early.A congregation was gathering at a church near by, for the Sunday evening service; and as his lips wereparched with thirst, he approached and procured a drink of water.Several persons there knew Marmor, but as he had shaved his beard, and otherwise slightly disguised himself, they were not confident of his identity.However, on his return to the carriage-road, he was at once confronted by six armed men.The click of their gun-locks was his first intimation of their presence, and with the bound of a wild deer, he dashed into a black swamp hard by.His pursuers were mounted, and therefore could not enter it; but the swamp, though over a mile long, was narrow; and they hunted him on either side.It was a cane-break, and but for the extreme drought of the season, would have furnished but poor footing indeed.The tall, stiff reeds reached far above his head, and some skill was needful to break them over with the font and thus secure a standing-place. His hat was soon knocked off by a shot, and his low-quartered shoes lost in the mire. At length a place was reached where a point of firm land extended into the swamp, and on this several of his pursuers took position, (for their number had been increased), to cut him off, should he attempt to pass.They had lost sight of him, but as he approached he distinctly saw Robert Baker directly opposite and facing him, and not far distant. He noted the resolute bearing and determined visage of the old hunter; but felt himself still incompetent to fully sympathize with the hunted slaveof the former times; whom no arm in the State or nation was strong enough to deliver from his master, or this hired hunter and his blood-hounds.But, having little time for sentiment or reflection, he took a hasty survey of the positions of such of his pursuers as were in sight, deliberately approached the edge of the swamp, took aim at the old hunter, who he felt sure would not scruple to takehislife, and firing, ran rapidly in a direction he thought they would not suspect; and thus escaped for the time.But, instead of approaching the town as he intended to do, he wandered in a circuitous direction, and returned to the church.The services were over, and as he saw that many of the men were mounting horses, he retreated to the woods again, where he lay till morning.His pursuers inquired of the worshippers, and finally got upon his track the next morning, bringing their trained dogs. From that time till Wednesday morning they chased him up and down the woods and swamps. His feet were wounded and swollen, his bare head exposed to the burning July sun, and he had eaten nothing since Sunday morning.On Tuesday morning he became desperate, and resolved to leave the swamp. He did so, and ran along the road. On several occasions the dogs were upon him when he again intrenched himself among bushes surrounded by water, and lay watching, pistol in hand. But as he had noammunition besides that in his revolver, he determined to make that as useful as possible, and reserved for a probable extremity.Once they caught sight of him at two hundred yards distance and cried. “There he is! There’s the —— scallawag!” and hissed their dogs upon him.On Wednesday morning he eluded them and reached the residence of the Intendant of Baconsville, on the outskirts of the town. He was a pitiable object indeed; with clothing torn and covered with mud, feet bare, swollen and bleeding; fair broad brow burned to a blister, auburn hair, unkempt; famished, fainting, and only his determined energy left of his former self.Refreshed by a cup of coffee and a judicious breakfast, and a bath for his feet, he hobbled to his home, which he reached about ten o’clock.It had become his sole wish to see his family once more, and if he must die, to die with them; and his apprehensiveness had become so great that he with great difficulty persuaded to tarry at his neighbors for food. To be driven from home, and hunted through swamps and forests, like a ferocious beast, had become an insupportable thought.And whereforewashe?Because he sought through that great instrument of enlightenment, the press, to disseminate his political opinions, and the principles of a Republican government, and to strengthen and perpetuate the Union.An hour after reaching home he became aware that thefoe was on his track and approaching, but the house was kept closed, and guarded by leading citizens, and he remained till the afternoon of the following day; when, so disguised as to be unrecognized by familiar friends, he took the railroad train for the Capitol, and escaped.A band of those white ruffians boarded the train, and passed through it several times, enquiring for him, and even propounded their questions to him, without recognizing him.The horrors of this massacre were but the commencement of a succession which blackened the history of the political campaign of the year 1876 in the State of South Carolina, and in other Southern states, and disgraced the Republic in the sight of the nations she had invited to witness the successes she had achieved under a free and popular government.Is it asked what punishment was meted out to those miserable offenders?They were arrested, liberated for several months under bail of $500 each, and clearly convicted upon trial; but because the jury of twelve was empanelled upon a strictly party basis, and the six white men wereavowedlyopposed to conviction on any evidence, a mistrial ensued.As under “the conciliation policy” of the national administration which followed the next subsequent election, the United States’ troops which had been sent into the State at the request of the Governor were withdrawn, the defeated Democratic candidates for Governor and Legislature,supported by the unchartered and hence illegal rifle clubs usurped the State government, and all further proceedings against the rioters were dropped, and the notorious General Baker was elected to a seat in the Senate of the nation, by that spurious legislature of his State.Such is the justice, and such the tender mercies, to which have been consigned the emancipated slaves of the Southern States, and these and similar experiences have caused the “Exodus” of the freedmen to the great north-west.With such fearful odds, can the reader wonder at their seeming timidity?THE END.
“Get thee gone!
Death and destruction dog thee at the heels.
If thou wilt outstrip death, go cross the seas,And live with Richard from the reach of hell.Go, hie thee from this slaughter-houseLest thou increase the number of the dead.”
—King Richard III.
WhenCol. Baker ordered Mrs. Marmor to leave her home, she would not ask shelter in the house of her nearest neighbor—that most Christian Jew, Dan Lemfield—lest her presence might jeopardise the safety of her husband; and she stood upon the doorsteps with her infant in her arms, and little Louie beside her, gazing up and down the street in utter dismay, and not knowing whither to flee. Only a few steps at her left was the drill-room, the centre about which all the warlike preparations were arranged, and every dwelling in the beleaguered square, except her own and Lemfield’s, was the abode of at least one colored family, and therefore clearly unsafe.
“Where is my papa? Why don’t he come and go with us, mamma?” asked the little boy in the piping voice of childish grief.
“Hush, child! Mamma’s glad he is not here. Keep still and maybe the soldiers won’t hurt us.”
“Will they hurt us maybe, mamma?” The boy now began to wail piteously, and the babe cried in sympathy.
“Hush, Louie! Mamma will tell you,” said Mrs. Marmor. She sat down upon the steps, in presence of the armed foe by which the street was occupied, and, placing her own person in range of any possible shot that might be aimed at Marmor’s boy, she spoke in low and rapid tones:—
“If you cry, these men will see you; and if you keep still, maybe they won’t notice, and sister will keep still too. You don’t want little sister to get hurt. You will be a brave man, like papa, won’t you? Papa isn’t afraid, and he keeps still.”
Pressing both his little hands over his mouth for an instant, and choking back one or two great sobs, the child looked up into his mother’s eyes, smiling through his tears, and repeated—“I cried unto God with my voice, even unto God with my voice, and he gave ear unto me. Mamma, there’s Mr. Dan. See! Mamma, see!”
Turning, she saw the Jew at his door, beckoning her with earnest gesticulation, although beside him stood the burly Rufus Baker. As she approached, she heard Mr. Lemfield say something about hostages, and Baker replied with a significant wink and nod.
“We will all die together, if we must,” said the distressed wife and mother, mentally.
“Co im, Mrs. Marmor. Co im,” said Lemfield. “Don’t sthop out here mit de leetle kinder. You huspand go vay? Dat ish pad. May pe he’ll come.” A quick glance at hisshrewd face, and she accepted his invitation, and entered the hospitable door with her little ones.
Dan soon followed, and taking her aside, said hastily, “You must not tell. You pe like you know not vare de man ist. I tink I co get old Bob and feed ’im viskey. Ven he trunk he shleeps much, and vants more viskey. He pe here he not tink you huspand be here; and ve knows he pe killing no mon. Now you take care.”
Poor Mrs. Marmor took the cue quickly.
Almost immediately after this the first gun fired. The Jew flew to the front door, and soon returned accompanied by the great bushy-whiskered negro-hunter, who was much excited.
Mrs. Marmor feigned great uneasiness and anxiety for the safety of her husband, and could but shudder under the piercing eye of the old man, while Louie hid behind her chair and peeped out at him with the fascination of fear.
Their host seemed to forget the presence of his other guests in his solicitude for Mr. Baker’s comfort.
“You not pe vell I see. Dat ish pad. Vat ish te matter?”
“I’m excited, and I reckon I’ve taken cold. Give me some whiskey,” replied the hypochondriac. “I’ve sweat too much. The day has been terribly hot!”
“Ya. Dat ish goot. Col. Paker tole me shut up mine par; but I not open it to serve you. I shust pring it here, and you trink mit my family. Vill I make shling? oder toddy?”
“O sling, sling.”
“Alle right. Dat ish goot;” and Dan bustled away to the bar-room and brought a bottle of strong liquor, from which he soon mixed what he called “de ferry pest shling eber made in de country,” and with great show of solicitude presented it to the old man, who gulped it down and smacked his lips with evident satisfaction.
In common with all mankind Robert Baker had an impressible point; and, as with every other tyrant, that point was vulnerable to flattery. By a discreet use of this depletive, and a vigorous administration of sling, and industrious cultivation of his hypochondriacal tendency, the Jew soon had him upon his back, and courting a perspiration which should relieve him of numerous imaginary ills. The rapid discharge of firearms upon the street, however, kept the patient nervous and excited; and Dan’s family screamed and exclaimed, and Mrs. Marmor and her boy wept silently as volley followed volley.
“Where is my papa?” Louie sobbed into his mother’s ear; for to him “old man Baker” was an ogre, who would devour any little boy he chanced to observe.
“Let us pray God to take care of him. He is taking care ofus. See, little sister is asleep.”
“What makes you cry, mamma?”
“Oh, just hear the guns? Somebody will get hurt,” and they wept and trembled together, while Lemfield continued to ply his patient with whiskey, till even his eagerness for the fray could not master the oncoming stupor of drunkenness.
Two hours or more passed thus, and it was dark, when fearful yells burst out, curdling the blood of every listener. They were like the jubilations of demons, and were soon followed by the booming of cannon.
Couriers brought frequent advices of the progress of affairs, which Lemfield carefully received for the old man, and as carefully withheld from every occupant of the house except the refugee in the chamber.
At the sound of the artillery, Baker rolled from the sofa, and gleefully exclaiming, “We’ll get ’em now —— them!” he reeled from the front to the rear door, pistol in hand, chafing under the restraint of his self-appointed nurse, like a hound in the leash when the horn of the huntsmen is heard.
A tramping sound in the back yard drew both men to the door.
“Who ish dat?” demanded Dan, peering into the darkness of a shady part of the enclosure.
“There goes a —— nigger! Here he goes! Here he goes!” shouted the old slave-catcher.
“Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!” cried the Jew; but while he yet spoke it was too late.
“I’ve got ’im! I’ve got ’im!” cried the old man, running to his fallen game.
“Co im quick! Co im quick, Meester Paker! Somebody vill shootyou,” and the excited little man caught the murderer’s arm and dragged him into the house, while the dusky form of Nat Wellman crept on all fours intoa yard still further to the rear, and found safety in a deeper shade.
Filled with such terrors the night wore on, and Marmor’s were not the only infants that sobbed themselves to sleep in the midst of those dreadful alarms, though many were laid in the shadows of the cornfields or the dampness of the swamps that surrounded the besieged town.
“Ich vill make ine shling, vat vill makeOld Bobshleep, so Ich vill!” muttered Dan, as he mixed a few drops of laudanum with a fresh mug of the steaming beverage. “Ich hab no more mens killed by mine house.”
The patient was at length awakening great echoes in his bed room, with his stentorian breathings, notwithstanding renewed disturbances upon the premises, and that most Christian Jew stole up to Marmor’s retreat.
“For your life, Meester Marmor, do co hide somevare! Dey pe hunt you, and say dey vill purn your house. Dey shware dey vill hab you. Dey say you be ine —— scallavag, ine republican, and dat you pringht ammunition to de nigger militia.”
“It is false!” said Marmor, “the only ammunition I ever brought to this town is republican newspapers.”
“Dat make no odds. Dat pad ’nough, dey tink, and dey pe hunt you; dey co tru mine house shust now. Dey find Shimmy’ (Jimmy, Marmor’s servant) in yo’ yard, and dey vip ’im to tell vo you ist; but he know notting.”
The hunted man fled to the house top, where he lay long, listening to the crashing of his printing presses and furniture,and the shrieks and cries of colored women and children whom he saw violently dragged from their houses by fiendish men athirst for the blood of their husbands and fathers for whom they sought; and wondering if his own mother was suffering similar indignities, he blamed himself for hiding.
He saw houses fired, in various directions, but the flames were soon extinguished by the less reckless of the assailants, or by the occupants, some of whom were thus captured.
About two o’clock in the morning the tumult in his own house was renewed and increased; and, driven from their hiding place there, two colored men leaped from a window of the second story, upon a roof beneath it, and with almost superhuman effort, climbed upon that of a higher part of the building, and scarcely less miraculously escaped death by the pistol of their friend Marmor, who mistook them for foes.
“For mercy’s sake don’t shoot!” cried one, just in time to arrest a second discharge.
The three men lay flat upon the roof to avoid discovery, but the sound of the pistol and the voice had betrayed them, and several of the rioters attempted to follow the young men.
Meanwhile the three men slipped down through the scuttle into Lemfield’s house.
Obliged to abandon pursuit in that direction, the ruffians re-entered the window, descended to the street, and pouring into the next house, rushed to the stairs.
“Vas fur you co up mine shtair? Co town! Ich say, co town!” cried Dan. “Ich been goot freund toebery man, so you shall not break mine tings. You must go vay, mine vamily pe sick up dar, and you will schare mine cronk poy so he co todt!” and pushing past them, he mounted the upper steps, still persisting in his opposition, and obstructing the way.
“Ich no niggah, no’ publican, no notting dat votes’ cainst you. So you co vay!”
“We won’t hurt you, nor your family, Dan, if we find you all right, but, (the reader must imagine the vilest and most profuse epithets and profanity), Louis Marmor is up there, and wewill have him. He’s a scallawag, and a republican, and is helping the niggers, and we must get him. He has got to die as well as the rest.”
“Er nicht dar.”
“You’re a lying Jew dog!”
“Ich schvare youns, Louis Marmor ist not pout mine blace,py de beard of Abraham!”
“You swear to that, do you?” asked the leader.
“Ich schware! Ich schware!”
“B-o-y-s, b-o-y-s,” said old man Baker, staggering from the couch where Mrs. Marmor had shaken him into consciousness, “Boys, oh, come back! come, come, come back! Dan’s a good fellow. I’m quite unwell, quite unwell,” drawled he, “and he has taken care of me and pro—pro—protected me from them —— niggers, and I’ll protect his house and family. Now just come back. Don’t go upthere. I’ve been here all night, so far, and hide nor hair o’ Louis Marmor ha’n’t been seen about here. I’ll vouch forthishouse, and guard it too. So don’t go up.”
“If you say so, Mr. Baker, we’ll come back, but we thought he was thar sho’.”
“Ha’n’t been about here to-night. I’ve been here and could see, and Dan’s all right.”
The ruffians yielded, and the three men, who had been unable to reach the scuttle and escape, were saved; though, confident of a speedy return of their foes, the colored men immediately sought another place of concealment.
The cries and pleadings of another captive were soon afterwards heard in the back-yard, and he was conveyed in triumph to the “dead-ring” which was still insatiable while ungraced by the persons of Marmor and Doc.
Though the house was not again entered by the mob, so strong and general was the suspicion that Mr. Marmor was upon the Jew’s premises, that after his return to his home even Robert Baker was persuaded to believe it, and a vigilant watch was maintained several days thereafter.
While Aunt Phœbe was hastening the preparation of Uncle Jesse’s breakfast the next morning, Jane Marmor sat beside her husband in the Jew’s chamber, and described the condition of things, as she had found them in their home; for she had already ventured there, and had looked in upon her mother-in-law, who had locked herself into her own little shop, and remained there, alone, and (strangely), unharmed, through the night.
Harry Gaston, and Hanson, Tommy, and old man Baker relieved each other on watch all the next day, each being assisted by a band of trusted followers; and Marmor, close behind Dan’s window-shades, listened to their threats against himself, and their attempts to convince such negroes as ventured near them, that he, Kanrasp, and the “carpet-bag Governor,” were solely responsible for the massacre; and while his colored friends were anxiously conjecturing his fate, his experiences in the affair had scarcely begun.
As the day declined, Mrs. Marmor joined her entreaties to those of their host, urging upon her husband the necessity of attempting escape, as there were indications of more decided search of the premises.
Night came at length, and spread her dark mantle over the village; but the hunted man had scarcely escaped the house when the rising of the full moon made concealment almost impossible.
As the weather was very warm, and he must make speed, he went without a coat. Choosing a time when the sentry had passed to the extreme of his beat, he walked up the street with apparently careless moderation, hoping to be mistaken for a laborer, and to reach a small station on the railroad three miles distant, before the arrival of the next train.
This he accomplished in safety, but arrived too early.
A congregation was gathering at a church near by, for the Sunday evening service; and as his lips wereparched with thirst, he approached and procured a drink of water.
Several persons there knew Marmor, but as he had shaved his beard, and otherwise slightly disguised himself, they were not confident of his identity.
However, on his return to the carriage-road, he was at once confronted by six armed men.
The click of their gun-locks was his first intimation of their presence, and with the bound of a wild deer, he dashed into a black swamp hard by.
His pursuers were mounted, and therefore could not enter it; but the swamp, though over a mile long, was narrow; and they hunted him on either side.
It was a cane-break, and but for the extreme drought of the season, would have furnished but poor footing indeed.
The tall, stiff reeds reached far above his head, and some skill was needful to break them over with the font and thus secure a standing-place. His hat was soon knocked off by a shot, and his low-quartered shoes lost in the mire. At length a place was reached where a point of firm land extended into the swamp, and on this several of his pursuers took position, (for their number had been increased), to cut him off, should he attempt to pass.
They had lost sight of him, but as he approached he distinctly saw Robert Baker directly opposite and facing him, and not far distant. He noted the resolute bearing and determined visage of the old hunter; but felt himself still incompetent to fully sympathize with the hunted slaveof the former times; whom no arm in the State or nation was strong enough to deliver from his master, or this hired hunter and his blood-hounds.
But, having little time for sentiment or reflection, he took a hasty survey of the positions of such of his pursuers as were in sight, deliberately approached the edge of the swamp, took aim at the old hunter, who he felt sure would not scruple to takehislife, and firing, ran rapidly in a direction he thought they would not suspect; and thus escaped for the time.
But, instead of approaching the town as he intended to do, he wandered in a circuitous direction, and returned to the church.
The services were over, and as he saw that many of the men were mounting horses, he retreated to the woods again, where he lay till morning.
His pursuers inquired of the worshippers, and finally got upon his track the next morning, bringing their trained dogs. From that time till Wednesday morning they chased him up and down the woods and swamps. His feet were wounded and swollen, his bare head exposed to the burning July sun, and he had eaten nothing since Sunday morning.
On Tuesday morning he became desperate, and resolved to leave the swamp. He did so, and ran along the road. On several occasions the dogs were upon him when he again intrenched himself among bushes surrounded by water, and lay watching, pistol in hand. But as he had noammunition besides that in his revolver, he determined to make that as useful as possible, and reserved for a probable extremity.
Once they caught sight of him at two hundred yards distance and cried. “There he is! There’s the —— scallawag!” and hissed their dogs upon him.
On Wednesday morning he eluded them and reached the residence of the Intendant of Baconsville, on the outskirts of the town. He was a pitiable object indeed; with clothing torn and covered with mud, feet bare, swollen and bleeding; fair broad brow burned to a blister, auburn hair, unkempt; famished, fainting, and only his determined energy left of his former self.
Refreshed by a cup of coffee and a judicious breakfast, and a bath for his feet, he hobbled to his home, which he reached about ten o’clock.
It had become his sole wish to see his family once more, and if he must die, to die with them; and his apprehensiveness had become so great that he with great difficulty persuaded to tarry at his neighbors for food. To be driven from home, and hunted through swamps and forests, like a ferocious beast, had become an insupportable thought.
And whereforewashe?
Because he sought through that great instrument of enlightenment, the press, to disseminate his political opinions, and the principles of a Republican government, and to strengthen and perpetuate the Union.
An hour after reaching home he became aware that thefoe was on his track and approaching, but the house was kept closed, and guarded by leading citizens, and he remained till the afternoon of the following day; when, so disguised as to be unrecognized by familiar friends, he took the railroad train for the Capitol, and escaped.
A band of those white ruffians boarded the train, and passed through it several times, enquiring for him, and even propounded their questions to him, without recognizing him.
The horrors of this massacre were but the commencement of a succession which blackened the history of the political campaign of the year 1876 in the State of South Carolina, and in other Southern states, and disgraced the Republic in the sight of the nations she had invited to witness the successes she had achieved under a free and popular government.
Is it asked what punishment was meted out to those miserable offenders?
They were arrested, liberated for several months under bail of $500 each, and clearly convicted upon trial; but because the jury of twelve was empanelled upon a strictly party basis, and the six white men wereavowedlyopposed to conviction on any evidence, a mistrial ensued.
As under “the conciliation policy” of the national administration which followed the next subsequent election, the United States’ troops which had been sent into the State at the request of the Governor were withdrawn, the defeated Democratic candidates for Governor and Legislature,supported by the unchartered and hence illegal rifle clubs usurped the State government, and all further proceedings against the rioters were dropped, and the notorious General Baker was elected to a seat in the Senate of the nation, by that spurious legislature of his State.
Such is the justice, and such the tender mercies, to which have been consigned the emancipated slaves of the Southern States, and these and similar experiences have caused the “Exodus” of the freedmen to the great north-west.
With such fearful odds, can the reader wonder at their seeming timidity?
THE END.