A clear understanding of the events to transpire in the courtroom on to-morrow, necessitates the bringing to light of some incidents that occurred many years previous.
One beautiful day two Negro girls, sisters, sauntered forth from home to make the rounds of the dry goods stores. It was their custom to go from store to store, inspecting fine garments, whether they had or did not have the money to make purchases. Looking at the fine displays of goods seemed to give these poor girls as much satisfaction as the actual possession of them would have done. Upon returning home they would delightedly discuss all that they had seen. As this was about the only novelty of their humdrum existence, the mother, deeply engrossed in aiding her husband supply the necessities of life, never interposed any objection.
At this time Ex-Governor Lawson was a young man, and was employed as clerk in one of the clothing stores visited by these two young girls. One of the girls impressed him as being more than ordinarily good-looking, and he had some curiosity to know how much her looks could be enhanced by proper attire. He made both of them presents of very elegant and costly costumes on the condition that they should not inform their parents as to the true source of the gift, and he further stipulated that they should return on the morrow clad in the attire given them by him.
The taste for fine dressing having been whetted to abnormal proportions, the girls, otherwise honest, accepted the gifts and began the first deceptions of their lives. The beautiful girl looked like a veritable queen when she appeared the next day. Little by little they were led on and on, until Lawson and the girl that interested him were meeting clandestinely, through the co-operation of her sister. It was not long before public disgrace overtook the erring girl through the birth of a child. That child was Erma Wysong.
Dolly Smith was the sister that abetted Erma's mother in her sinful course. The disgrace was too severe a blow for the mother of the two girls, and she soon died of grief. The enraged father drove them away from his house. Cast off, they appealed to the partner in their guilt for help. He spurned them from him, and threatened to have them imprisoned if they besought aid of him again. This action was the occasion of Dolly Smith's vow to consecrate her whole life to the wreaking of vengeance on the wrecker of their happiness.
The clerk rose rapidly in the scale of life, soon was a merchant himself, and later was triumphantly elected Governor of Virginia, and more recently was appointed minister to Germany. Dolly Smith never lost sight of him nor faltered in her purpose. Imagine, then, her wolfish joy when his son commits his fortunes into her keeping. She feels that she can wreck the father through the child.
We now pass from the father to the son. While Erma was at Mrs. Turner's, young Lawson became familiar with her handwriting, she having aided Franzetta Turner and himself in addressing invitations on several occasions. Dolly Smith knew of this, and had been faithfully laboring to imitate Erma's handwriting. She was entirely successful, and could write so that it would require microscopic inspection to distinguish between the two.
It was a forged letter to young Lawson that caused Mrs. Turner to summarily dismiss Erma from her service, offering no opportunity for an understanding. The imitation was so perfect that both Mrs. Turner and Franzetta regarded the matter as beyond question.
Now that Erma was lost to Lawson's view, Dolly began to correspond with him, using Erma's name and handwriting. These letters represented Erma as making advances toward Lawson, professing love for him and expressing a desire for lifetime companionship. These letters rendered Lawson wild with joy. He felt that the greatest blessing that the world had in store for him, Erma's love, was at last attained.
Dolly made Erma to say in these forged letters that she desired that he settle upon her a sum of money sufficient to care for her for life in the event that he should die or his affections should wane. Young Lawson assured her that his love was immortal, and that she did not need insurance against the possible loss of that. Yet he deemed it but an act of justice to make ample provisions for her, so that she would never be in want under any circumstances that might arise.
Young Lawson at this time had only five thousand dollars in his own right, though the prospective heir to a great fortune. He desired to settle ten thousand dollars on Erma. He prepared a note, forged the endorsement of a well-known firm, had the note discounted, hoping to save enough from his liberal quarterly allowances to redeem the note at maturity. The money was paid over to parties named, Dolly Smith having most skillfully arranged this part of the programme. This done, the fictitious correspondence with Erma suddenly ceased, and young Lawson was enraged at what appeared to him to be Erma's duplicity.
Dolly Smith immediately employed a business agency to institute a secret inquiry into young Lawson's financial standing, she being confident that he would have to resort to irregularities of some kind to raise the sum of ten thousand dollars. This inquiry soon brought to the notice of the firm whose signature was forged, the note of young Lawson, which otherwise would have been unmolested until the time of maturity, so high and unquestioned was the standing of all parties concerned in the note transaction. Exposure and the arrest of young Lawson followed, and we are now to attend upon his trial.
Long before the hour set for the opening of the court, a great crowd of Richmond's most distinguished people, men and women, had gathered at the door of the court room. They were discussing from one to the other the alleged forgery, seeking to fathom the motive thereof, and speculating as to the effect it would have on the family name.
The attorneys for the defense had given no intimation as to their proposed course, and speculation was rife as to what the character of the defense would be; what, if any, would be the pleadings in mitigation of the offense. The Commonwealth's attorney was well known to be the bitter political enemy of the Ex-Governor, and it was thought that he might be relied on to do all in his power to see the son suffer according to the requirements of the law.
The door of the court room was opened and every seat quickly seized upon by the eager throng, those not getting seats content to find standing room. Court was duly opened and the case of the Statevs.James Benson Lawson, charged with the forgery of the signature of the firm, Linton & Stern, was called.
Young Lawson was stationed between his mother and father, on the one side, and his lawyers on the other. In response to a summons from the Judge, he arose and entered the plea of "Not guilty," for the purpose, as was afterwards explained, of having the opportunity to introduce testimony that would provoke sympathy, though not disproving guilt.
The State proceeded to make out its case, submitting the note in question, the real signature of the firm, the testimony of experts, and such other evidence as clearly established the fact of the forgery and the guilt of the defendant. Thereupon the State rested its case.
The defense began its presentation by introducing witnesses to testify to the previous good standing of the defendant. Nothing more in the way of testimonials could be desired, than the tributes paid young Lawson's virtues by these witnesses. The impression created was that some powerful impulsion was necessary to deflect such a worthy young man from the path of virtue. "The motive, the motive, what was the motive?" was the query that was engaging the thoughts of all.
The name of Erma Wysong was called as a witness. A murmur of astonishment ran around the court room, "A woman in the case! A woman in the case!" The door of the witness room opened and Erma Wysong stepped out of it into the court room, the cynosure of all eyes. Her surpassing beauty at once stilled the buzzing in the room. Her hair was combed back from her brow as if to demonstrate that that face needed no sort of background to enhance its beauty. A plain but well-fitting dress allowed her form to appear in its native beauty and symmetry. Erma's eyes were opened slightly wider than usual, as if in innocent fright. If she had suddenly developed wings and flown, the transition would have been in keeping with the tenor of the emotions of all, prevailing for the moment, for she possessed the charm of person which is ever associated with the angelic. Erma had not been apprised as to the nature of the case before the court nor as to the part she was expected to play. Unaccustomed to court duties of any character, she was ill at ease on this occasion, but her apparent bewilderment lent interest to her charms.
The attorneys for the defense were highly gratified at the profound impression that Erma's beauty had made. She was escorted to the witness chair. The tenor of the questions asked gave the public the first clue to the probable course of the defense. Young Lawson was to be a Mark Antony in the meshes of a Cleopatra.
Erma was asked to give specimens of her penmanship, which she did readily. She was also asked as to who wrote certain detached words and sentences that were placed before her. She stated that they had every appearance of being her handwriting. With the way thus paved, the letters which Dolly Smith had written to young Lawson in Erma's name, were produced. They were masterpieces of ingenuity and were evidently written by a woman who knew all of the inner workings of the heart of man. Erma sat listening in amazement at the revelation of the adroit effort to capture young Lawson's heart, she being designated as the culpable party.
When Erma's beauty was taken into account, together with the brilliancy and power of insinuation found in the correspondence, the auditors were prepared to account for the downfall of young Lawson. The defense here rested its case. To the surprise of all, the Commonwealth's attorney signified his purpose to offer testimony in rebuttal. He also suggested to the attorneys for the defense, in a whispered conference, that Mrs. Lawson, the wife of the Ex-Governor, be requested to retire in view of disclosures to be made. The retirement of Mrs. Lawson brought excitement to the highest pitch, and sensational developments were momentarily expected.
Dolly Smith is called as a witness and takes her seat. She casts a look of malicious triumph in the direction of the Ex-Governor. The Commonwealth's attorney questions her as follows:
"Are you acquainted with one Erma Wysong?"
"No, sir," was Dolly's reply.
"Are you acquainted with the young woman who has just left the witness chair?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well, is not that Erma Wysong?"
"No, sir. That is Erma Lawson, daughter of the Hon. Mr. Lawson, Ex-Governor of Virginia, and Ex-Minister to Germany."
The blood forsook the face of the Ex-Governor, and he looked first to Dolly and then to Erma in a dazed sort of way. The eyes of the auditors flashed from Erma to the Ex-Governor and back again, evidently making comparisons. The audience was of one mind in believing that Dolly had spoken the truth, only a cursory glance being needed to see, after the suggestion had been once made, that Ex-Governor Lawson and Erma were father and child. They were astonished that they had not made the comparison on their own initiative.
"Are you acquainted with the prisoner at the bar?" resumed the lawyer.
"I am."
"State the circumstances under which you formed his acquaintance."
Dolly now entered into a detailed statement of all her dealings with Lawson, setting forth his purposes with regard to Erma.
"Who wrote those letters read here to-day?"
"I wrote them. Erma knew nothing of them until she heard them in this trial."
"Erma, then, has not been a party to the inveiglement of this young man?"
"No, sir. On the contrary, he endeavored to make a victim out of her, and he has been victimized."
"How did young Lawson happen to approach you?"
"Many years ago I first acted as procuress for his father, my own sister being the victim. Perhaps information as to what I could do came to him from his exemplary father."
The Commonwealth here stated that the evidence was all in, and if agreeable to the defense, the case would be submitted to the jury without argument. The defense, however, desired to make one speech, the prosecution waiving its right to make reply. The speech as prepared by the leading counsel for the defense was not delivered. The case of his client was ignored altogether, and a stirring invective was delivered against Dolly Smith.
As torrent after torrent of scathing rebuke rolled forth from the lips of the speaker, Dolly Smith writhed as one under the severest physical torture. Feeling unable to longer endure the ordeal, she arose and fled toward the door. As if by a common impulse, the throng of spectators surged about her.
"Tar and feathers!" some one suggested.
The cry was taken up, and soon all were loudly clamoring for "tar and feathers!" Tar and feathers were procured and applied to Dolly, who was now screaming at the top of her voice and striking wildly in the air. She was soon overpowered and, followed by a hooting mob of men and boys, was led to the railway station, where she was placed upon the first outgoing train, with emphatic instructions to never again show her face in Richmond.
The train went rumbling out, bearing its unpopular burden. While the train was crossing a high bridge a few miles from Richmond, Dolly rushed upon the platform of the car in which she had been riding, huddled into one corner, and, leaping into the air, descended upon the unyielding rocks at the bottom of a deep gorge, whereupon her soul bade her body an eternal farewell, leaving it as food for such fowls of the air as should see fit to feed thereon.
To return to the trial, young Lawson, after conviction, was solemnly sentenced by the Judge to a term in the State prison. The Ex-Governor experienced such a shock from the occurrences that his mind became unbalanced. He went forth from the court room a complete mental wreck, and wandered aimlessly about the streets of Richmond, piteously repeating to any one who would take time to listen: "The fathers have eaten sour grapes, and the children's teeth are set on edge."
It developed that Dolly Smith was the purchaser of the home of Erma and John, and, through a provision in her will, it was now restored unto them. The storm of life bursting over their heads experiences a lull. But be not deceived thereby. The Storm King is crafty.
Erma is reinstated at Mrs. Turner's. That lady's heart is now drawn to Erma with peculiar warmth, as if in atonement for her previous harsh judgment and maltreatment. Mrs. Turner is a firm believer in the transcendant greatness of the aristocratic blood of the South, and the presence of Ex-Governor Lawson's blood in Erma's veins doubly endeared Erma to her. Thus it came about that Erma was treated more on the order of one under Mrs. Turner's special care than as a servant. Very frequently the white citizens of Richmond called at Mrs. Turner's in order to see the beautiful Negro girl that was said to be the daughter of Ex-Governor Lawson. Erma was so clever in conversation that all went away admiring her, but ascribing her cleverness to her white parentage, an appropriation that is often made whenever a notable performance comes from a person of mixed blood. But amid all this, Erma Wysong was by no means a happy girl. Her brother had at last confessed to her his awful crime and had thus rolled that crushing stone upon her heart. In addition to her sorrow over the fact that John,herJohn, was a murderer, he had left it with her to tell him what steps to take.
After his confession to Erma, John's weight on his own heart materially lessened. He had put the matter into the hands of Erma and he felt that Erma's love for him and her love for God would effect such a compromise as to bring him back to favor with God. While naturally deeply concerned as to what Erma was to have him do, yet he felt that somehow all would be well, because ERMA had the matter in charge. Two or three times a week he would visit her, saying nothing of his crime, but hoping that she was ready with her decision. Her loving heart was touched with this childlike trust on the part of her brother. Erma also felt that the eyes of her mother were looking down upon her from the skies watching every step that she was taking concerning John, whom her mother had commended to her care with her latest breath. "Be faithful to John's soul, Erma," were the last words that escaped the lips of the dying mother. Then, too, Erma felt that the eyes of God were upon her. And yet again she remembered that she was a member of organized society; was in possession of the knowledge of an awful crime against society and therefore owed something to society. How much? was the great question. Thus, in settling this terrible matter she had to deal with her own heart full of love for John; had to deal with John's simple, trusting soul; with the sacred memory of her mother; with the will of God; with the demands of organized society calling loudly for her guilty brother.
Sleepless nights, weary tossings, the all-night prayers, the tear-bathed pillows were testimonials to the terrific conflict raging within Erma's bosom. At one time she had about argued her brother innocent to her satisfaction. She reasoned thus: The Labor Union drove her brother from employment at the Bilgal works, debarred him from leaving the city to find other work of the kind, drove him to the seat on the carriage where he overheard the Labor Union argument which corrupted his soul. Then she argued that the policy of the Union was nothing more nor less than a cold-blooded attempt at murder by starvation, as its principles universally applied would result in the starvation of all Negroes. Her brother's blow, then, was a blow in self-defense, a blow to strike down that being that was driving him to the water's edge and threatening to overwhelm him therein. But these arguments were destined to be soon overthrown in her mind.
Announcement was made that Booker T. Washington, her former teacher at Tuskegee, would lecture in Richmond on the "Race Problem." Erma went to this lecture. Mr. Washington delivered a strong address showing how the situation of the Negro was not altogether a hopeless one, and showing the audience how the Negro could, if he would, pull up with all the odds against him; how that there was no need for moping and despondent brooding. This Erma felt was a home thrust for John, for it was just this that had made his soul ripe for his crime. As Mr. Washington drew to the close of his remarks, his voice began to change from the earnest to the passionate. In tones full of the passionate fire of the orator, coupled with the pathos welling up out of a grieved soul, he said by way of peroration,
"After all, after all, it may be that the Negro has chosen the best weapon for the attainment of his rights and privileges. The Nihilist of Russia appeals to his bomb of dynamite; the American Indian to his tomahawk; but the American Negro has dropped upon his knees in his one room cabin and has sent up a prayer to God. After all, may it not be that his anguish torn face and sorrow-laden prayer of faith are better weapons than the bomb of the Russian Nihilist and the tomahawk of the Indian?"
This one remark determined Erma. As she now saw it, John's error was in adopting the motto of that Anglo-Saxon Master Workman, "If a foe stands in our way and nothing will dislodge him but death, then he must die." Then the thought flashed over her mind that the Anglo-Saxon race, whose every advancing footstep had been planted in a pool of blood, was about to impart its mercilessness to the Negro, a being of another mould. And John was the first victim over whom the bloody shadow had cast itself. She was determined to return John into the ways of his fathers. He was to renounce the pathway of blood and have recourse to God. Erma determined to have John Wysong confess his crime and take his chances before a court of justice, trusting to God to befriend her and him.
"Hello, Christian, old boy. I am truly glad to see you back."
"Thank you, friend Stewart, thank you. I confess that I am much more than glad to be back. I would not have missed being here this year for anything. Why, we are to have a Railroad Bill before us and the question of electing a United States Senator, and nobody wants to miss good things like those."
"You are right. But from the way the papers read, you were having a hot time of it, and we all gave you up as a gone chap, once. How on earth did you pull through?"
Horace Christian's face took on a serious expression, and he looked around and around anxiously, and said, "Come with me over to my room, Stewart, and I will tell you the whole story. The thing isn't altogether to my credit, but I can trust a chap like you."
Such was a conversation that took place in front of the State Capitol at Richmond at the close of the first day's session of the Legislature. The sun was just down and flashing a defiant look backward on coming night. The speakers were two members of the House of Delegates. The time is but a short period subsequent to John Wysong's confession to Erma.
Horace Christian was slightly below the medium in stature, had dark eyes and facial features of the most commonplace type. There was no marked peculiarity about him, nothing that would so impress you that you could point him out again if you saw him in a crowd. The two locked arms and went walking out of the Capitol yard, and over to Christian's room in Ford's Hotel. Once there, they locked the door to his room and took seats at a table in the center of the room. Christian offered Stewart a cigar, and taking one himself, lighted it, and leaning back in his chair, threw one leg over the table. Sitting thus, his hat on his head, he began his story, the gloom of evening fast creeping on.
"Well, Stewart, my election came about in this way. You know my district is a very close one, and a fellow's election is determined by a very few votes. On previous occasions I had paid out a little money and bought up the Negro vote to such an extent as to secure my election. But this time the Republicans put up as their candidate an ex-general in the Confederate Army. An Ex-Confederate who confesses to the error of his ways and joins the Republicans can always rely on the Negroes killing the fatted calf for him. So my opponent was just sweeping things before him. I began to look upon my candidacy as a forlorn hope, until an idea, which I regarded as a brilliant one, flashed into my mind.
"You know, Stewart, the Negro's weak point is gratitude to the white man. That point in the Negro race is over developed. I have noticed that a merchant can keep a Negro's trade forever by merely speaking to him kindly. The Negro seems to feel that he owes the white man his trade for that friendly greeting, and he will not quit trading with him to trade with a member of his own race. A smile from a white man will go farther toward getting a Negro's trade than a day's pleasant conversation from another Negro, the Negro feels so grateful for the condescension of the white man. If a white man cuts off a Negro's leg, expresses sorrow for it, and gives him a cork one, accompanied with a kindly pat on his shoulder, that Negro feels under a debt of gratitude to that white man all his days. I reasoned, then, that my only salvation lay in doing something to get the gratitude of the Negro. Just now all the gratitude of the Negroes is lavished upon Southern whites who denounce lynching. I decided to get an anti-lynching record. But I could not get that record without a lynching. If I was to get to the Legislature and have a finger in the pie, I must have a lynching. The question had reduced itself to this simple proposition; no lynching, no seat in the Legislature, or a lynching and a seat in the Legislature. I argued with myself that it would not matter so much with the universe if one more innocent Negro were lynched. Just one more name to the long list of innocents slain would not be such a great addition. Besides, I argued, if the lynching spirit goes on, some innocent Negro will soon be lynched and nothing gained, but in my case there is something to gain—a seat in the Assembly at a most opportune time.
"Having toned my conscience down, I began to concoct my scheme. Of course, that was the easiest part of the job. You know that in the chivalrous South whenever a white woman throws out a hint against a Negro, he might as well make his will. I decided to take advantage of this chivalrous feeling and make it serve my purposes. A false charge was trumped up against a Negro, and he was soon in the hands of a mob. According to prearranged plans, the Negro was being led forth to the place where he was to be hanged, when I came upon the scene and besought the mob to halt. This they did, and listened to remarks from me, denunciatory of their proposed actions. Only the leaders knew of my true relation to the whole affair.
"The fury of the mob had been aroused to such a pitch that nothing could induce them to desist. That Negro did look at me so appealingly, evidently regarding me as his only possible hope. Finally the crowd became impatient at listening to my harangue. They started off with the Negro. I then drew my pistol as if about to kill and be killed for his sake. I was overpowered in short order; but that one deed, the drawing of that pistol, has made me solid forever. The poor Negro was taken near the scene of the alleged crime and was hanged and riddled with bullets.
"That night I could not sleep. About twelve o'clock I got out of the bed and dressed. The moon was gleaming down upon the earth. Something drew me irresistibly to the scene of the lynching. The murdered Negro was yet hanging there, and by the light of the moon struggling through the treetops and falling in spangles over his form, I saw a horrible sight. The face was ploughed up with bullets, his eyes were bulging out, his stomach was ripped open and his entrails were visible. On his breast there was a placard, and an inward voice seemed to say to me, 'Read!' With my hair rising on my head and the strangest feeling I ever had in my life stealing over me, I crept up to the body. I could not see distinctly, so I struck a match and read these words: 'Whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap.' I looked up at the bulging eyes, and they seemed to be trying to speak to me and say, 'Thou art the man.' My strength failed me, and I fell forward, and, clutching at anything to keep from striking the ground, caught hold of the dead Negro. My weight, added to his, broke the rope, and we fell down together, my head getting caught under his mangled form.
"But, Stewart, the story is too uncanny. I can't go on with it!" His voice now grew loud and wild. "I would like to tell you about my dream. Oh! it was awful. But I can't tell it to you! That queer feeling is stealing over me. My hair is rising now. Don't you hear my teeth chattering! Light the lamp! Light the lamp, Stewart!" Christian was now standing up, grasping the table in terror, and shaking like an aspen leaf.
Suddenly a rap was heard at the door. Christian cried out with the terror of a child, "Oh, don't open that door, Stewart, don't! That nigger will come in!" Stewart lighted the lamp, and this had the effect of restoring Christian to his normal condition. Christian now went to the door and opened it himself.
"Why, Speaker Lanier! Come in, Mr. Speaker, come in; your call does me a signal honor," he said. Mr. Lanier was a large, tall man, of grave aspect, and of a commanding appearance. "Be seated, Mr. Lanier, be seated." Speaker Lanier sat down and let his eyes rove around the room. He caught sight of the grave look on Stewart's face, and inquired the cause.
"Oh, nothing, Mr. Speaker. A nigger stood in the way of my coming to the Legislature, so I just killed him. I have been telling Stewart about it," said Christian.
"In cold blood?" asked Lanier.
"Oh, it's a small matter about the sort of blood," laughed Christian. "Killing a nigger does not amount to anything. A man isn't popular these days unless he kills a nigger. I have got mine." Lanier looked at Christian contemptuously. The subject was so disgusting that he hastened to discard it at once.
"Say, boys," said Lanier. "I have just come from the house of Ex-Mayor Turner's wife, and she has sent me to you all on the queerest mission possible. It comes about in this way.
"You know she has staying with her, a Negro girl, Erma Wysong, who is currently believed to be the daughter of Ex-Governor Lawson. This girl has so favorably impressed Mrs. Turner and has so elevated the opinion of the people as to the capabilities of Negroes, that Mrs. Turner has decided to use a number of Negro girls to kill off inimical legislation relative to the Negro race, which legislation threatens them at this session. You know a determined effort will be made to pass a separate coach bill; and also a law so dividing the school funds that Negro children shall get only that proportion of school money that comes from taxes paid on Negro property. Of course that means death to the Negro schools. Well, Mrs. Turner wishes to defeat these bills and desires to have the credit of the performance. Here is her idea. She holds that the social tie has been the assuager of all racial antagonisms in history and that what makes the Negro Race Problem so hard of solution is that the social factor is missing and ever shall be.
"She has decided to employ this idea of the power of social influence in dealing with the pending legislation. She wishes to hold at her house a number of fetes at which no one shall be present but about twenty young Negro women of the very purest and highest type in their race, together with an equal number of the leaders in the Legislature. She wishes to bring you all together in this secret way for a purpose which she regards as lofty, even to the sublime.
"Of course, as Speaker, I am not supposed to influence legislation too strongly in a partisan way, so I shall not be asked to the fetes. But you fellows can go to talk with and listen to the girls. One thing, coming in contact with the better element of the race, you can form a more correct opinion of it. What say you, boys?"
"Oh, I am in for it, Hon. Mr. Speaker, I am in for it. I need something to divert my mind this session. What do you say, Stewart?" remarked Christian.
"Well, after your weird tale, I need a diversion, too. So put me down as all right. When the music starts, I will be there to dance."
"One thing, boys, I was asked to say to you, by all means. You are asked to pledge your most sacred honor to me on two things: first, you are not to breathe the matter to your warmest friends; second, as the honor of Mrs. Turner's house is at stake, you are implored by her to pledge me uponyour honorto treat the girls as ladies. They come from the best homes, and a misfortune would be a most damaging and blighting affair. Do you promise?"
"Oh, yes; we promise you faithfully," said Christian, winking slyly at Stewart.
"Well, that is all settled, then," said Lanier. "By the way," he continued, "you will find that Erma Wysong a gem. She is as beautiful as a mermaid and as gifted as any girl I ever met. She made a strange request of me just as I was leaving. She caught hold of my hand and said, excitedly, with a pleading look in her eyes, 'Mr. Lanier, they tell me that you are a great man, a man of wide influence. Will you promise an orphan girl, sorely troubled at heart, that you will use your powerful influence in her behalf if ever she stands in need of it and if such action will not violate your sense of right?' A man with a heart of stone could not have resisted such pleadings as that from such a source. I gave my most solemn word, and when the time comes, be it soon or late, I shall redeem it. Well, boys, I must hurry away. I have an appointment with the Lieutenant Governor as to some matters to come up in the Senate to-morrow. Remember your pledges. Good night."
Because Erma Wysong had found favor in the eyes of the rich white people of Richmond, the colored girls were now ready to receive her back with open arms, though in their hearts opposed to her. True, they grumbled about white folks honoring a servant girl and felt that they, the "anti-workers," the brain force, should have been recognized as representatives of the highest type of Negro womanhood. But grumble as much as they might, they bowed to the decree of the whites exalting Erma. So, when Erma came to them with Mrs. Turner's proposal concerning social fetes with the legislators, they received her kindly. The clandestine meeting with the legislators, though for a most worthy cause, looked decidedly shady to these girls, but when they remembered that the widow of the Ex-Mayor suggested it and would be in it throughout, they threw qualms of conscience to the winds and decided to embark upon the enterprise.
The affair was not at all to Erma's liking, but four things influenced her. First, she had the most implicit confidence in Mrs. Turner, and from experience had learned that her motives were always pure and exalted and her judgment usually sound. Second, she was profoundly concerned about the education of the Negro children and felt that that was a matter that had the right to command any sacrifice not involving the loss of character. Third, she was anxious for the moulders of public sentiment to meet, if not but for the once, the purity and intelligence of the race, the character of a people being so largely judged by their women. Fourth, the overshadowing thought that swept away the last vestige of resistance was Erma's hope that she could use these fetes as a place where she could extend her influence over men of high standing and great influence who could be of service to her and to John when he was to walk at her bidding within the shadow of the gallows. So the affair was launched upon a grand scale, though conducted with the greatest secrecy. The young legislators responded with alacrity to each of the numerous calls that Mrs. Turner made. The girls would attend the Legislature each day, listen to the various speeches, and at the fetes discuss them intelligently with the young men.
Mrs. Turner was delighted with her scheme, and noticed how respectful, deferential and truly gallant were the young men. No personal appeals were made to any of them to change their votes, but these fetes afforded the Negro girls the opportunity of putting the questions from the view point of their race. This could not be done on the floor of the Legislature as the Negroes had no representation there. Erma with her quiet, sweet, genial, charming face moved about among them winning the deepest regard of all. Margaret Marston, a girl whom you have met before in our story, was one of the twenty, and distinguished herself by her costly attire. Her costumes were incomparably finer than those worn by any of the other girls.
At length the day for voting on the two measures came. All Richmond and the State at large were aroused over the question of dividing the school fund and the providing of separate coaches for colored people. The debate waxed warm and furious. Excitement ran high as man after man arose and spoke in ringing tones in denunciation of the measures. When the measures in their turn were submitted to a vote they were defeated by safe majorities. Loud and long was the applause, (especially so in one corner of the ladies' gallery) when the result of the vote was announced. It was conceded by all that the speech of the day was delivered by the Hon. Horace Christian. He spoke with so much eloquence and power and so far excelled his every previous effort, that friend and foe united in giving him unstinted praise. Mrs. Turner gave a fete of extraordinary brilliancy in commemoration of the fact that her end had been achieved, for she was indeed happy. That was a happy occasion that night. The very atmosphere seemed charged with joy.
There are spots on the sun.
In one corner of the room on a divan sat Margaret Marston and Horace Christian. Margaret's womanly form was wearing its most lovely drapery on this occasion. Her rounded forehead and black curly hair were befitting capstones of this splendid specimen of physical beauty. Margaret's large, lustrous, eyes are now cast down upon her fan, with which she is toying nervously. She is speaking in a somewhat low tone to Mr. Christian. She half murmurs, "Yes, Mr. Christian I have been trying ever so hard to get near you all the evening. I must, Oh I must congratulate you on that speech. It was most masterly." Her manner and her tones, not her words, awakened sinister thoughts in Mr. Christian. He looked down at Margaret, intently, searchingly. Her eyes would not meet his. She continued, "Oh, it was just grand! I could have-could have-just-just kissed you. There, now, it is out." So saying she arose and casting a timid look in his direction went to another part of the room and avoided his gaze the rest of the evening. The party broke up joyously, and happy people went home to peaceful slumbers. But the serpent had crept into the Garden of Eden. These fetes went on during the entire session, Mrs. Turner fearing that an attempt might be made to resurrect the bills and pass them. It was afterwards remembered that on two or three occasions all of the young women were present but Margaret and that on these same occasions Horace Christian was likewise away.
The session of the Legislature came to a close, leaving the separate coach law and the bill for dividing the school funds buried under adverse votes. During the session Erma had won the esteem and friendship of persons high up in business, social and political life, and she felt that she could rely upon them to do all within their power to give John Wysong a fair and impartial trial, and felt that they would co-operate with her to secure for him the very lightest sentence possible.
Erma had John to come to her room. She told him of the long list of her influential friends, and showed him how each one could be of service to them in the time of need. She then told him that as he had violated the laws of organized society, which laws the Bible commanded him to obey, he ought to suffer for his crime. She told him that by going to the authorities and surrendering he would commend himself to their sympathy. She felt, too, that the Master Workman's treatment of John, if brought out in court, would serve to mitigate the heinousness of the offense in the eyes of the jury. Thus John, willing to suffer many years' imprisonment for a crime which his soul had so long since repudiated, hopeful of a merciful sentence, having faith in Erma and her friends, trusting in God, went down to the police station and electrified the nation with the full confession of his crime. He was placed under arrest and remanded to jail for trial.
At first the tone of the daily press was somewhat sympathetic; and thereupon the various Labor Unions became enraged. The printers belonging to the Unions and working for these newspapers refused to set up articles calculated to create sentiment in John Wysong's favor. They even threatened to strike and boycott the papers showing friendliness to the Negro that had murdered their Master Workman. The newspapers, finding the current of public sentiment too strong to breast, turned, and their columns began to be filled with inflammatory articles. Even the vicious element of the city was aroused and Erma's group of personal friends became powerless. Mr. Lanier, the Speaker, worked like a Trojan in a quiet way, but his efforts were of no avail. The case drifted into a race question and not one of justice and mercy, a happening that so often occurs where two distinct races live together.
At length the day for the trial of John Wysong came. He was duly arraigned, tried and convicted of murder in the first degree, the jury (nine of them being Union men and all being white) not leaving its seat. The penalty was assessed at death on the gallows and sentence was duly passed that John Wysong, thirty days from that date, be hanged by the neck until dead.
Poor Erma.
Gentle reader, we could not if we would, and we would not if we could, lead you through the darkened chambers of Erma's soul on the days succeeding the trial and sentence of her brother. The aching of the cords of love that bound her to John, the fear of the reproach of her dead mother, the jubilation of the mob, the seeming abandonment of her by Providence, were too much for her human frame, and she fell dangerously ill, adding bodily to spiritual afflictions. It was anguish to those whose duty it was to sit by her bedside at her home. One day when Erma was resting a little more quietly than usual, those in attendance upon her handed her a sealed letter, the envelope being one of mourning. Erma looked at the letter fearfully, and turned her eyes, now full of tears, up to God, as if in reproach of the way he was allowing the millstones to grind her to powder. Erma was trembling as she tore open the letter and sought first of all for the signature. The letter was from Margaret Marston. It read thus:
"My Dear Erma:"Our family physician came to see me this morning, and he tells me that I am a ruined girl. I know only too well that all he says is true. So I am going to New York to do I know not what. I write you this letter to beg you to forgive me for a wrong which I perpetrated against you long since. You will remember that our doctor, who was here to witness my disgrace this morning, had you put out of church because you went to work. I was the one who worked up that sentiment against you and caused your ejection. I, the one who was above work, trying to act like the white society girl, should have been thrown out instead of yourself. It was my idleness, my failure to earn money, my attempt to keep up with the fashions set by the wealthy that has wrought my ruin. Horace Christian, whom we met at Mrs. Turner's fete, won my love. My love of him, coupled with my desire to dress, my poverty, my failure to seek such work as abounded, my idleness and that peculiar influence which a distinguished man of a distinguished race exercises over a poor girl too appreciative of what appears to her a condescension—these things were forces too powerful for me to resist, and so I fell. Erma, never allow Mrs. Turner to bring our girls into such contact again, as a young white man has nothing on earth to deter him from wrecking our homes. There is no penalty for his offense before the law nor in society. No sort of ostracism overtakes him anywhere for taking advantage of the weaknesses of Negro girls. How free the young white man feels under existing social conditions to prey upon our morals! Our families are so filled with contempt over our disgrace that they seek not to avenge our fall. So, I go on my downward journey, and Mr. Christian moves upward to the highest places within the gift of his people. Do what you can, Erma, to see that a similar fate overtakes not another girl. Farewell."Margaret."
"My Dear Erma:
"Our family physician came to see me this morning, and he tells me that I am a ruined girl. I know only too well that all he says is true. So I am going to New York to do I know not what. I write you this letter to beg you to forgive me for a wrong which I perpetrated against you long since. You will remember that our doctor, who was here to witness my disgrace this morning, had you put out of church because you went to work. I was the one who worked up that sentiment against you and caused your ejection. I, the one who was above work, trying to act like the white society girl, should have been thrown out instead of yourself. It was my idleness, my failure to earn money, my attempt to keep up with the fashions set by the wealthy that has wrought my ruin. Horace Christian, whom we met at Mrs. Turner's fete, won my love. My love of him, coupled with my desire to dress, my poverty, my failure to seek such work as abounded, my idleness and that peculiar influence which a distinguished man of a distinguished race exercises over a poor girl too appreciative of what appears to her a condescension—these things were forces too powerful for me to resist, and so I fell. Erma, never allow Mrs. Turner to bring our girls into such contact again, as a young white man has nothing on earth to deter him from wrecking our homes. There is no penalty for his offense before the law nor in society. No sort of ostracism overtakes him anywhere for taking advantage of the weaknesses of Negro girls. How free the young white man feels under existing social conditions to prey upon our morals! Our families are so filled with contempt over our disgrace that they seek not to avenge our fall. So, I go on my downward journey, and Mr. Christian moves upward to the highest places within the gift of his people. Do what you can, Erma, to see that a similar fate overtakes not another girl. Farewell.
"Margaret."
"Let me up! Let me up!" cried Erma, springing from the couch on which she lay.
Despite the protests and the determined resistance of her attendants, Erma was soon dressed and walking rapidly toward Mrs. Turner's. Her attendants, thinking that the shock had perhaps cured Erma of her troubles, which were more mental than physical, contented themselves with following her at a distance. She entered Mrs. Turner's home, and said, "Mrs. Turner, I trusted your word that you were introducing us to gentlemen. Now behold the work of Horace Christian." She thereupon handed Mrs. Turner the letter, and waited anxiously for her comment.
Mrs. Turner's face flushed with anger as she read of the baseness of Horace Christian. She said, "Erma, I cannot recall Margaret Marston to a pure existence, 'tis true, but I shall see to it that the same punishment is meted to that scoundrel Christian that would befall him if Margaret were my own daughter Franzetta. The honor of my home is involved, and be assured that we have come upon one white man, the despoiler of a Negro home, that shall not escape unpunished. Trust that to me. Ah, Erma! I fear that the social factor must be ever missing in the solution of your race problem. Wherever and whenever, in other countries, race problems have arisen (and there have been many such to arise), the softening influences of the marriage tie and social intermingling have acted upon the icebergs of race prejudice like a southern sun. But my efforts prove that this factor must ever be missing. It is sad, sad, sad, but it is inevitable. The marriage tie we do not want. All social functions gravitate in that direction, we see; the two cannot be disassociated. As we do not desire the one, we must not tolerate the other, I find at so sad a cost. I wash my hands of the attempt. God knows that my heart was true. But, Christian! Christian! Tremble, wretch, wherever you are! Stay, Erma, I wish to call up Mr. Lanier." She went to the telephone and called up Mr. Lanier, urging him to come to her house at once. He came, and Erma retired to another room while they talked. They were thus engaged for about three hours. Finally, they called in Erma. There was a happy, relieved look on Mrs. Turner's face, and a grave one on Lanier's.
Mr. Lanier said, "Miss Wysong, Mrs. Turner has told me all. By the heart of my sainted mother, and upon the honor of my virgin sister, I swear to you that Margaret Marston shall be avenged. Again, let me say that, to my mind, your brother is entitled to mercy, and he shall not hang."
Erma sprang to Mr. Lanier's side, grasped him by the arm and looked searchingly into his face, but he said no more. Bidding the two adieu, he left, haunted by Erma's beautiful face, where all the sorrow of the world seemed to have taken up its abode.
Lanier walked forth from Mrs. Turner's house an enraged man. Horace Christian's slighting reference to his (Christian's) having killed a Negro came back to him now. Christian's utter disregard of the solemn promise made to him relative to treating the Negro girls as ladies intensified Lanier's contempt for his moral nature. Before taking any action he decided to find out all about each of these crimes of Christian, the killing of the Negro and the betrayal of Margaret Marston.
Christian had not gone away from Richmond as yet, though the Legislature had adjourned. Lanier called to see him and at first engaged him in a conversation on subjects of minor importance to throw him off his guard. Later he found it convenient to address him as follows: "By the way, Christian, you have never told me about that frolic you had with that Negro. You were telling Stewart about it when I called to see you at the first of the legislative session just closed."
Christian said, "Excuse me, Mr. Lanier, but the deed was too cold-blooded to be mentioned. The darky had never done me a bit of harm and I have never gotten over what I did."
"I suppose that that is what made you so gay this session. I have heard of your little intrigue with Margaret Marston."
"Ha, ha, ha! Have you heard of that? I did not know it was out. I suppose there will soon be a young African calling me daddy. Ha! Ha! Ha!"
Lanier was so disgusted with Christian that he could hardly repress manifestations of his repugnance. He found some way of excusing himself and went to his own room. He locked himself up in his room and walked to and fro. He had two great problems on his hands. One was to save John Wysong from the gallows, the other was to kill Horace Christian. At length a plan suggested itself to him, and he grasped his hat to examine into its feasibility. He went down to the jail in which John Wysong was incarcerated, and being an intimate acquaintance of the jailer, he was allowed to visit John privately in his cell. In fact, the jailer owed his appointment to Lanier's influence. Lanier had John Wysong to stand up. He eyed him closely from head to foot. He then had John to turn his back to him, which Lanier examined thoroughly. He next examined his hands and his feet. He reached in his vest pocket and drew out a tape line with which he measured John accurately and thoroughly, taking a record of the measurements. Having obtained the information he desired he started to leave, when he caught sight of a burned place behind John's ear. He stopped and looked at that closely. He then said to John, "If the jailer seeks to cut off your hair you must not let him. Plead with him to the very last. Your life depends upon it." So saying he gave another scrutinizing look at John and then left. From the jail he went to the tailor shop where a number of the legislators always had their clothes made. He took the book in which the tailor kept the measurements of his regular customers and on the pretence of copying his own measurements, copied those of Christian. He now took these to his room and placed them before him, by the side of those of John Wysong. He was astonished at how the two ran together, only differing by half and quarter inches. He paid Christian a visit and while they indulged in ordinary chat he noticed every feature of Christian's face. John Wysong's lips were larger than those of Christian, while their noses were about the same size. There was just a shade of difference in the color of their eyes. Christian's cheeks were not quite as full as those of John. Other than this, if Christian were black there would be scarcely anything to distinguish him from John, as John was a Negro of the most common place type as to features and Christian was a white man of the same mould. Of course there was a world of difference as to their hair. Lanier was now convinced that shrewd management would enable him to carry out his plans.
Knowing where the jailer's mother lived he boarded a train and went to that place. Lanier found a person suited to his purpose and left in his possession a telegram to the jailer informing him that a dying mother desired to see him. This telegram was dated the day before John Wysong was to be executed and was to be sent on that day in time for the jailer to catch the afternoon train leaving for his mother's home. By another device he so arranged as to get the death watch who had had special care of John out of the way. He next bought a quantity of a solution which is said to be used by burglars and criminals in general of the white race, who at any time desire to pass for Negroes. The secret of the compound was guarded so closely that Lanier experienced considerable difficulty in getting hold of it. But he secured a large quantity of it, as well as the counter solution enabling him to cleanse himself quickly and thus become white again. He now goes to Christian on the day before John Wysong was to be hanged and said:
"Christian, let us have a little frolic to-night; let us get our hair cut real close, paint ourselves black all over, using a solution which I have. I have another solution which will cleanse us immediately. Let us go among the darky belles and have a good time."
"Bully, Lanier, bully. I am in for it. Since Margaret left I have had the blues. I want a little fun. But say, you are a sly chap. With your grave looks we would not have thought anything like this was in you. Yes, I am in for it. What time will you be here?"
"At about ten o'clock. Don't fail me, now," replied Lanier.
"I won't. I wish it was night now," said Christian.
Lanier listened out for the news from his telegram. It came in and the jailer went speeding out of town, but not before Lanier had gotten a permit to see John Wysong at any time. Thanks to his other device the regular death watch was out of the way also. That night at Christian's room Lanier and Christian transformed themselves into "Negroes" and went forth.
Lanier said, "Christian, if we happen to get drunk to-night and are put in the lockup you must not squeal. You must play "darky" to the last or our enemies will get hold of it and we will be done for politically."
"Don't be afraid of my squealing. I'll play darky all right. I won't mind getting arrested and paying a fine, for the sake of the novelty of experiencing just what a darky does go through."
"All right; now, Christian, be merry. Play your part like a man."
The two go to a house of ill-fame, where Christian gets beastly drunk. Lanier slips out and goes to a place for which he had arranged beforehand. He undresses, applies his solution and is white again. He grasps a valise in which he has a number of things and returns to where he left Christian. He gets him by the arm and leads him until he comes to the jail in which John Wysong was incarcerated. He aroused the substitute jailer and, showing him his pass, was allowed to come in. He told the jail officials that he brought along a fellow who was going to do a kindly act for John's sister. The two, Lanier and Christian, were allowed to go into John Wysong's cell. Lanier left Christian in a drunken stupor in the cell and took the jailer and death watchmanpro temaside and supplied them with whiskey to drink. It was drugged and they were both very soon unconscious. Lanier seeing that they were sound asleep returned to John Wysong's cell. He took out a pair of clippers and soon had all of John Wysong's hair clipped off to the scalp. He got from his valise a wig made of Negro hair just like John's, and carefully adjusted it to Christian's head. He took out a syringe and injected a poison in Christian's upper lip which caused it to swell slightly. He looked from Christian to John to see how the likeness grew. He next injected a small quantity of the fluid into each of Christian's cheeks and they came out. He was astonished himself at the resemblance Christian now bore to John. He had omitted to fix the lower lip which he now did and stood off and surveyed his work.
Mr. Lanier and John together then undressed Christian, putting Christian's clothes on John and John's clothes on Christian. Lanier now examined the wig again and saw to it that it was so closely connected with the scalp that only the most rigid examination would reveal that it was a wig. He observed that the representation of the scar behind John's neck was in exactly the right place, in the adjustment of the wig to Christian's head. Christian's feet were somewhat smaller than John's, but shoes were exchanged anyway, John cutting Christian's open to get his feet into them. John did all of this without question, Erma having so often praised Mr. Lanier and having led him to believe that he would be largely instrumental in saving him. How little did she dream of the way in which it was to be done. Lanier now goes back to the drunken jailer and watchman, takes his seat as though he had never moved and finally arouses them from their slumber, joking them about being able to stand only a little drinking. After awhile he signifies his intention of leaving. John Wysong, acting as drunken Christian had acted on coming in, sat in the jail corridor waiting for Lanier. The jailer, watchman and Lanier walked down the corridor, glancing into Wysong's cell as they passed. The jail door was opened and Lanier and John Wysong walked forth, leaving Christian in the cell of the doomed to die. The death watchman drowsily took his seat by the side of the cell in which Horace Christian was sleeping his last sleep on earth.
On the night preceding the day set for John Wysong's execution, Erma did not retire to rest. She paced to-and-fro, wringing her hands in despair. She accused herself of having needlessly murdered her own brother, of having cast him into the midst of ravenous beasts, destitute of conscience and of feeling. She felt that Lanier had treated her shamefully to hold out to her a ray of hope, only to snatch it away and make the darkness all the more dark. She had not seen him nor heard from him since the day he made her such a faithful promise at Mrs. Turner's residence, whither she had gone concerning Margaret. This brought Margaret to her mind. She accused herself of being responsible for that poor child's ruin, in that she had allowed herself to be drawn into those social fetes in the hope of saving her brother. Instead of saving him, she had lost him, and destroyed that girl as well, she thought. As the night wore on, her agony became more and more intense.
Despair! despair! despair! Night of the soul. At the bottom of the pit of sorrow, millions and millions, deep, Erma crawled about, bitten by vipers put there, eyeless, to bite all the children of men whom God, for any cause, sends to them. Upward from the bottom of this pit Erma lifted her eyes, but the darkness was so intense that even night would have been swallowed up and lost therein. Yes, though in her room, Erma was nevertheless in this pit.
Eventually, and without apparent cause, a calm stole over Erma, her burden rolled away. As to why this was the case, she could not tell and did not know. All that she knew was, the burden had gone, and a calm had settled down upon her soul. She opened her front door and let the night air sweep down and kiss her fevered brow.
The moon, one-quarter full, was now half-way between the zenith and the horizon. The morning star was near at hand, evidently endeavoring to outshine its queen. The moon, not fearful of her throne, shone on in unprovoked beauty, and the stars were watching the contest, forgetful of the fact that the sun was soon to come forth. At length the sun burst upon the scene; the unfinished battle was deferred until the coming night, as more tragic scenes were to be enacted.
If you wish, gentle reader, you may stay in Erma's company on the day of the execution, but we prefer to hasten away. Early in the morning, the newspaper reporters gathered at the jail in great numbers. They were allowed inside, and stationed themselves where they could see through the bars of John Wysong's cell. At length Horace Christian awoke from his drunken stupor, and gazed blankly around him. At first he did not know what to make of his surroundings. Glancing at his hands, he noticed that they were black. Then it all came to him, how that he was playing "darky" on the night previous. In all likelihood he had gotten into a drunken brawl, and had been arrested, he thought. He decided to play "darky" all the way through. He looked through the bars and saw the group of reporters gathered there, but he did not know how to account for their presence. Happening to rub his hand over his head, it came in contact with hair, and he remembered distinctly of having cut his off. He now felt that Lanier had put that hair on his head while he was drunk, as a joke, and having escaped himself, had sent the reporters down in order to play a prank of some sort on him. He decided that nothing should induce him to betray his identity, preferring to take a somewhat severe penalty first. The joke of sending the reporters was not exactly to his liking, but he was in it, and would stick. He chuckled to himself as he thought of the antics he was going to play, and the witty sayings that he would throw out in the police court at his trial that morning.
"Have you any message to give to the world through our paper?" asked a reporter.
"Yes, tell 'em dat you saw me, but you didunt see me saw."
"Can you talk with such levity on an occasion like this?" asked another.
"Boss, I don't know nuthin' 'bout yer levity. But I knows erbout dese erkasions mos' much. De police court air my headquarters."
Breakfast was brought in, and it was such a splendid repast that Christian now knew that Lanier was playing him a joke. The jailerpro tem., acting in the place of the real jailer, gone to his mother, brought in a new suit of clothes. Knowing that ordinary prisoners were not treated thus, Christian feared that his identity had been disclosed, and that they were treating him with such marked courtesy on account of his distinction. One thing puzzled him. He could not tell where he got that suit which he had just pulled off to put on the new one brought by the jailer. After a while he was handcuffed and marched out of the jail, the reading of the death warrant having been dispensed with. Here he met a throng, numbering well up in the thousands. He began to curse Lanier inwardly, thinking he had put an account of the episode in the papers, and that, as a consequence, all Richmond was out to see the Hon. Horace Christian. He bit his lip and inwardly defied any man to make him acknowledge that he was white. He would defy Lanier himself. They started on their march, and when they got to the corner where, turning one way, they could go to the Police Court, much to Christian's surprise, they turned in an opposite direction, the crowd following them.
Christian said, "Say, boss, you air gwine to de police coat by a roundabout way." The jailer looked at him contemptuously. They soon came in sight of an open field, in the center of which there was erected a large gallows. People stood about it on every side as far out as the eye could reach. A clearing had been kept open so that the jailer and his ward might go through to the gallows uninterrupted. Christian now felt an uneasy sensation in his bosom, that mysterious monitor that wafts to our ears the notes of the death knell even before they are struck. Christian walked in the direction of the gallows hesitatingly.
"Come along, John, come along. You must die game, you know," said the jailer, urging him along.
"Hold on, jailer," said Christian; "what does this mean?"
"There is where you are going to be hanged, John. Cheer up. Don't be uneasy. Die game."
"Hanged! hanged! what in the name of God are you going to hang me for? Do you hang a fellow for a little midnight fun?" asked Christian, thoroughly aroused and terrified.
"John, that is why you are going to be hanged. You looked upon murder as a matter of fun."
The picture of the Negro tramp whose murder he had caused for political purposes, crowded before his gaze. He shook tremblingly and began to stagger. "Say," he gasped, "who told on me?"
"Why, you told on yourself, John."
"I was a blamed fool for telling it. I must have been drunk. But say," he continued, "are they going to mob a white man for killing a nigger tramp?"
"You mean, are they going to mob a nigger tramp for killing a white man."
"I am no Negro; I am a white man" exclaimed Christian.
"That's enough. Come on." They were now at the foot of the gallows, and Christian was the very embodiment of abject terror. He attempted to cling to the railing on the steps leading up to the platform of the gallows. He was whining piteously, saying, "I am a white man, I killed a nigger; I am a white man, I killed a nigger."
His complete breakdown filled the people with disgust, and they howled in derision.
"It took a cowardly wretch to commit a crime like his," said a member of the throng. The trembling man was hurried to the trapdoor, the noose was adjusted, the black cap put on, the trap sprung, all as quickly as possible, the victim kicking, scratching, clawing, the little that he could, and bellowing, "I killed a nigger! I killed a nigger!" As his body shot down, his last words were "O God, I killed a—." The sentence was finished in the other world. A few convulsive jerks, and the murderer of an innocent fellow being and the despoiler of virtue had gone to his reward.