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UNFETTERED.

A NOVEL.

by

SUTTON E. GRIGGS,

Author of "Imperium in Imperio," "Overshadowed," "Dorlan's Plan," etc.







Nashville, Tenn.:
The Orion Publishing Company.
1902.

Copyright
By Sutton E. Griggs.
1902.




_DEDICATION._


_While a last beloved sister
MARY,
Was, with patience and fortitude, awaiting the
slow but certain tread of the Grim Reaper,
she spared strength enough to read, from
beginning to end, "Overshadowed,"
that came to greet her ere she sped
to the home of the departed.
Were she mindful of happenings on the
earth to-day the author of this volume would
be sure of at least one sympathetic reader.
To her memory "Unfettered" is
affectionately dedicated._

_THE AUTHOR._

       *       *       *       *       *

     "The chains that bound the body * * were as tender
     chords of mercy compared with the shackles that gyved
     his mind * *."--_Kelley Miller._




AUTHOR'S PREFACE.


On a sad occasion in days gone by, the people of the United States were
called upon to deal with the <DW64>'s woes, and in the haze of battle there
arose to thrill the hearts of men a Fort Sumter, a Bull Run, a Gettysburg,
and, at last, an Appomattox.

Since those pregnant days, in spite of a seeming retrogression in some
quarters, there has been a steady, unbroken march of the <DW64> in an upward
direction. One day our great nation that once dealt with the <DW64>'s woes
will be summoned to deal with his strength, to kindly accept or finally
reject _all_ that he can do.

       *       *       *       *       *

As the day of final adjustment is inevitable, it is wise for all of us who
love our country to make a study of the internal workings of a race now
shaking itself loose from the death sleep of the ages.

It is the aim of "UNFETTERED" to lead the reader into the inner life of the
<DW64> race and lay bare the aspirations that are fructifying there.

Those who come to these pages in quest of pen pictures of either angels or
demons, are not likely to find what they seek, for our story has to do with
human beings, simply. That is, we should say, with the exception of--but
you will make your own exceptions when the tale is fully told.

THE AUTHOR.




CONTENTS.


CHAPTER.                                           PAGE.

        I. AN ANGLO-SAXON'S DEATH                      9
       II. "A NEW KING ... WHICH KNEW NOT JOSEPH"     15
      III. A FALLEN MAN SHOOTS                        22
       IV. THE CLANS GATHER                           29
        V. BREEDS TROUBLE FOR AFTER YEARS             37
       VI. AN ACT OF WHICH NOBODY IS PROUD            46
      VII. A MAN AGAINST A REGIMENT                   54
     VIII. THE HINT NOT TAKEN                         62
       IX. DORLAN WARTHELL                            70
        X. CUPID SHOULD BE MORE CAREFUL               73
       XI. A STORMY INTERVIEW                         78
      XII. MORLENE AND DORLAN                         83
     XIII. A WHOLE CITY STIRRED                       92
      XIV. BLOODWORTH AT WORK                        101
       XV. HARRY BECOMES A TOOL                      106
      XVI. A WOMAN AROUSED                           111
     XVII. CLANDESTINELY, YET IN HONOR               121
    XVIII. WHO WINS?                                 126
      XIX. THE SCENE SHIFTS                          134
       XX. THE BYSTANDERS CHEER                      142
      XXI. TO BEGIN LIFE ANEW, AS IT WERE            149
     XXII. EXCUSABLE RUDENESS                        153
    XXIII. A STREET PARADE                           160
     XXIV. GOING FORTH TO UNFETTER                   169
      XXV. TONY MARSHALL                             179
     XXVI. A MORNING RIDE                            185
    XXVII. THEY FEAR EACH OTHER                      189
   XXVIII. "O DEATH, WHERE IS THY STING?"            194
     XXIX. IN THE BALANCES                           201
      XXX. THE TELEGRAM                              207


DORLAN'S PLAN.

                                                   PAGE.

FOREWORD                                             219
WHERE THE TROUBLE ARISES                             223
OUR PROBLEM                                          225
THE INSPIRATION OF THE OPPOSITION                    226
STILL IN THE BALANCES                                228
HE WHO HAS HITHERTO FOLLOWED CALLED UPON TO LEAD     231
REVISITING THE ORIENT                                233
CLASPING HANDS                                       234
RENOVATION                                           237
WHERE TO BEGIN                                       239
"THERE IS NO PLACE LIKE HOME"                        240
RELIGION A FACTOR                                    244
TO WEAR WELL OUR CROWN                               245
IN THE UPPER REALMS                                  247
"OF MAKING MANY BOOKS THERE IS NO END"               249
WE EAT TO LIVE                                       251
LITTLE AFRICAS                                       253
"YE HAVE THE POOR WITH YOU ALWAYS"                   254
THE WINDS HAVE VEERED                                255
"THE FIELD IS THE WORLD"                             256
WHERE THE GALE BLOWS FIERCEST                        257
WITH THE HEN GOES HER BROOD                          265
THE PROBLEM OF THE OTHER MAN                         266
OUR LAST FOE                                         269
MIGHTIER THAN THE SWORD                              271
THE END DRAWETH NIGH                                 274




CHAPTER I.

AN ANGLO-SAXON'S DEATH.


Gently the midsummer breezes rustled the green leaves of the giant oaks and
towering poplars that stood guard over the Dalton house, which, as though
spurning their protection, rose majestically above them and commanded a
splendid view of the Tennessee fields and woodlands, stretching far out on
either side of the leisurely flowing Cumberland.

The subdued whisperings of the winds, their elf-like tread as they
cautiously crept from tree top to tree top, tended to create the suspicion
that they were aware of the tragedy which their mother, Nature, was so soon
to enact within the walls of the house around which we now see them
hovering.

In a sumptuously furnished room of this magnificent structure, Maurice
Dalton, the present owner thereof, lies dying; battling heroically yet
losingly in that last, inevitable conflict which he had been summoned to
wage with the forces of decay. The head of this dying Anglo-Saxon rests, in
these its last moments, on the bosom of Aunt Catherine, an aged <DW64>
woman, who was his first and loving nurse in infancy, and has been his one
unswerving friend and worshipper in all of his after life.

On former occasions, when disease had drawn him to the edge of the grave,
so skillfully did Aunt Catherine second the recuperative work of nature
that he was led back to life and health. Now that her healing art has
failed her, she sits heartbroken, and, like Rachel weeping for her
children, refuses to be comforted. No mother ever loved an offspring with
greater intensity than Aunt Catherine loved "Maury," as she called him.

Near to Aunt Catherine stands Lemuel Dalton, a nephew and the sole
surviving relative of Maurice Dalton. Tall, slender and well featured, he
was an interesting figure at any time. His firm, gray eyes give evidence of
great grief over the approaching death of his uncle, although the death of
this uncle is his only known means of an early escape from poverty.

At the foot of the bed on which Maurice Dalton lies, stands Morlene, a
beautiful girl just budding into womanhood. She is a <DW64>, although her
very pleasing complexion is so light as to give plain evidence of a strong
infusion of Anglo-Saxon blood.

A wealth of lovely black hair crowning a head of perfect shape and queenly
poise; a face, the subtle charm of which baffles description; two lustrous
black eyes, wondrously expressive, presided over by eyebrows that were
ideally beautiful; a neck which, with infinite regard for the requirements
of perfect art, descended and expanded so as to form part of a faultless
bust; as to form, magnificently well proportioned; when viewed as a whole,
the very essence of loveliness. Such was the picture of Morlene, who, once
seen, left an image that never again passed from the mind of the beholder.

Morlene's bosom is just now the abode of many surging emotions. She views
in a dying and speechless state the person who alone on earth knows the
secret of her parentage. Maurice Dalton had promised to impart this
information to Morlene at some time, but has delayed doing so until now it
appears to be too late. Add to the fact that Maurice Dalton is carrying to
the silence of the grave the information so earnestly, passionately desired
by Morlene, the further fact that he had been her support, protection, and
sole dependence from earliest infancy. So keen had been his interest in
Morlene that only his known piety saved him from the suspicion that he was
her father.

In addition to the sense of personal loss that Morlene is to sustain, she
must contend with her grief over the approaching death of a man whose
sweetness of soul and fatherly care had won from her almost a daughter's
love. With hands clasped like unto one supplicating, she strains her
beautiful eyes, as if, in her solicitude, to watch the soul along the whole
distance of its flight into the great unknown.

Standing here and there in the room are distinguished white neighbors,
intimate friends, ready to testify that the noblest Roman of them all is
passing away.

In an adjoining room, still other white neighbors are recounting in
undertones the many noble deeds performed by Maurice Dalton. Huddled
together under the trees in the yard to the back of the house are the
<DW64>s of this and other plantations, who, with woeful looks, peer
anxiously in the direction of the "big house," eager for news as to how the
battle was going. The vitality of Maurice Dalton was surprisingly great,
and he grappled with this "last of foes" far longer than had been deemed
possible. Probably it was his unfulfilled promise to Morlene that caused
his spirit to linger here so long after it had received the final summons.

Morning wore away into the afternoon. The air grew humid and signs of
coming rain multiplied; yet the <DW64>s stood their ground, determined to
be as near as possible to their beloved landlord in the supreme moment.

Dark clouds which, ascending from the horizon, had been curtaining the
skies, now passed beneath the sun, intercepted his kindly rays and
journeyed onward until not a patch of blue was anywhere to be seen.
Excitedly the lightning displayed his fierce glance in the disturbed
heavens, first here and then there, and the occasional mutterings of the
thunders were heard.

The <DW64>s at last mustered sufficient courage to make the attempt to have
Maurice Dalton to die, if die he must, in what they regarded as the ideal
manner. Any <DW64> that could die "happy," die in the midst of a frenzy of
joyous emotions, was deemed by the mass of <DW64>s as assured of an
entrance into heaven. In order to produce this condition of ecstasy, they
would gather about the bedside of the dying and sing such songs as were
calculated to deeply stir the emotions of the passing one. They now
concluded to use their singing upon Maurice Dalton. Leaving the shelter of
the trees they all drew near to the house and stood under a window of the
room in which lay the dying man.

In plaintive tones, low, timorous and wavering at first, then louder and
bolder, in sweetest melody, they sang:

    "Swing low, sweet chariot,
    Cum fur ter carry me home;
    Swing low, sweet chariot,
    Cum fur to carry me home."

Ofttimes as a boy Maurice Dalton had stood on the outer edge of <DW64> open
air camp meetings and had heard, with deep emotion, this chant; and as the
music now comes floating into his room his paroxysms cease, a smile plays
upon his face which, though wasted, is handsome still.

Suddenly he sat bolt upright in his bed. "Hush!" said he, feebly waving his
hand, as he turned his ear in an attitude of listening. "Did they say the
chariot had come?" he enquired of the weeping Aunt Catherine. Casting a
faint look of recognition on those who stood near him, he fell back upon
the bosom of Aunt Catherine--a corpse.

The wild cry of anguish that escaped the lips of Aunt Catherine told its
own story to the <DW64>s in the yard. The singing ceased and they turned to
go. Tears were falling from their eyes, and Nature, as if in sympathy,
began to weep also. In after days the minds of the <DW64>s oft reverted to
the darkness and gloominess and utter dreariness of the day when Maurice
Dalton died.




CHAPTER II.

"A NEW KING ... WHICH KNEW NOT JOSEPH."


"Morlene, you and Catherine will come into the library as soon as your
breakfast duties are over."

Such was a command addressed to Morlene by Lemuel Dalton while he was
sitting at the breakfast table in the Dalton house, a few days subsequent
to the happenings recorded in the preceding chapter.

Morlene passed out of the dining room into the kitchen to tell Aunt
Catherine what Lemuel Dalton had said. But Aunt Catherine had heard for
herself and was so much agitated by what she thought were sinister purposes
revealed by his tone of voice, that she began to tremble violently. A plate
which she was washing fell to the floor and broke, whereupon she whispered
to Morlene in tremulous tones:

"Dar, now! I shuah knows dar is trubble brewin' 'round 'bout heah. Las'
night I drempt 'bout snakes an' didn't git to kill 'um. All dis mornin' my
right eye hez been jumpin' fit to kill, an' now I dun broke dis plate. W'en
hez Aunt Catherine broke er plate afo' dis? Shuah's yer bawn, chile, dar is
trubble brewin' in dis 'neck ub de woods.'" In a still lower whisper she
said: "I wondah whut debbilmint our young marster's got in his he'd ter
sen' fur us?"

Morlene, who was also apprehensive, shook her head slowly, signifying that
the master was an enigma to her as well.

After the lapse of a few minutes, Aunt Catherine and Morlene repaired to
the library, where they found Lemuel Dalton tilted back in his desk chair,
his hands clasped behind his head. Turning the gaze of his gray eyes full
upon Aunt Catherine and Morlene, who were sitting together, he began:

"Both of you are aware of the fact that I am now the proprietor of this
place. I have one more task which I wish to perform as plain Lemuel Dalton.
I will be rid of that task to-day, I think. To-morrow I intend assuming
charge here. I shall have no <DW64>s whatever about me, and the two of you
will please prepare to leave when I take charge to-morrow."

Aunt Catherine groaned audibly at the announcement and her dilated eyes
showed that she viewed the suggestion with a species of horror. Morlene was
self-contained, being careful not to exhibit any emotion, if she felt any.
Lemuel Dalton, desirous of preventing an outburst of grief from Aunt
Catherine, hastened to say:

"You will go from the place well provided for. I find, according to my
uncle's memorandum, that there are six hundred and forty-eight dollars to
your credit, money which was due you, but not called for by you. I notice
that you have been accustomed to give largely to objects of charity, else
this sum to your credit would be the larger. You will find the amount in
this package." So saying, he lightly tossed the package into her lap.

"Morlene, I find a note in my uncle's memorandum which states that you are
entitled to be cared for by the Dalton estate so long as you live. I know
not what is the ground of your claim, nor do I care to know. I shall see to
it that you do not suffer. Understand, however, that you will always apply
to my lawyers for aid and not to me. With this one thousand dollars which I
now hand to you, our personal dealings come to a close."

He tossed the package of money, which was in currency, toward Morlene, but
she took pains to see that it fell upon the floor and not upon her lap.
This was done so adroitly that Lemuel Dalton did not know but that the
failure of the package to reach its destination was due to his poor
marksmanship.

Aunt Catherine asked in broken tones: "Marse Lemuel, will yer 'mit me ter
say er word?"

A frown of impatience appeared upon Lemuel Dalton's brow, but he nodded
assent.

Aunt Catherine stood up and began:

"Marse Lemuel, I wuz bawned on dis place. I wuz brung up hear ez a chile,
and all de fun an' frolics I ebber hed wuz right heah. Marse an' missus
'lowed me an' my ole man ter marry heah. It was in front ub dis very house
whar us, my ole man an' me, jumpt ober de brum stick es a marrige cerimony.
Since I hez been an 'oman ebry baby bawn in dis hous' hez cum in ter dese
arms fust. Yer own daddy Erasmus wuz one ob um, an' a lackly littul fellah
he wuz, too. Dese hans you see heah hez shrouded de Dalton dead since I ken
ricermimber. Durin' war times, w'en udder <DW54>s wuz brakin' dey necks ter
go ter de Yankees, I staid right by missus an' I'se been in dis house ebber
since.

"Nachally, Marse Lemuel, I lubs dis spot. I jes' doan' know nuthin' else. I
hed hoped to die heah an' be bur'i'd at de feet ub missus, for she promis'
me wid her dyin' bref ter let me wait fur de trump ub Gabrul by her side.
Now, Marse Lemuel, doan' dribe me erway. I'll wuck an' not charge nary
cent. I wants to stay whar I ken plant flowers on de grave ub Maury an' de
rest. Gib me er cot an' let me sleep in de ole barn lof' whar I played ez
er gal; but doan' dribe me erway."

Here Aunt Catherine burst forth into sobbing.

Lemuel Dalton's frown deepened. He arose and walked to the window, his back
to Aunt Catherine, who now dropped upon her knees to pray for God to
reinforce her plea.

Lemuel turned, and discovering Aunt Catherine in an attitude of prayer,
said: "That is all unnecessary, Catherine. My mind is made up. I do not
mean to be unkind, but I simply shall not have <DW64>s about me."

Aunt Catherine finished her prayer and arose. Taking the money which Lemuel
Dalton had given her, she said in gentle tones: "Whut I did fur our folkses
wuz fur lub. You shan't spile my lub by payin' me fur whut I hez dun." So
saying, she walked over to Lemuel Dalton in an humble attitude and dropped
the package of money at his feet. She then turned and went slowly and
disconsolately out of the room, her head drooping as she shuffled along.

Morlene, who had manifested great self-control during the whole of the
affecting scene, now arose and boldly faced Lemuel Dalton.

"Sir," said she, her eyes filled with tears, "it takes no prophet to
foretell that terrible sorrows await you! He who ignores human emotions,
will find many in this world more than a match for him at his own game! As
for the money which you gave me, I shall not touch one penny of it. Really,
I do not care to have my life linked by means of the smallest thread to a
man who shall come forth from the 'mills of the gods' ground as you will
be. You have not my anger, sir, but my most profound pity." So saying, she,
too, left the room.

Lemuel Dalton was seized with a nameless, indefinable terror, that caused
his blood to grow chill; and in that instant the consciousness came to him
with the certainty of a revelation that Morlene had spoken the truth. But
this feeling only remained for a few seconds. It was but a forerunner,
years ahead of its time. He cast it off, seeking to assure himself that
belief in a premonition was but an idle superstition. When he had fully
recovered his composure he said:

"Now, I like that plucky spirit manifested by the girl. Give me, every
time, the haughty sufferer, too proud to crouch beneath the lash even when
its sting is keenest. I want none of your whining suppliants. A plague on
these <DW64>s who meet injury with woe-begone expressions. That sort of
thing tends to make the Anglo-Saxon chicken-hearted in dealing with them.
The more a <DW64> whines and supplicates the worse I hate him. But I tell
you I like the spirit of that girl." Such was Lemuel Dalton's soliloquy.

"But other tasks await me," he said. Taking a pistol from his hip pocket,
he thoroughly examined it to see that it was in prime condition in every
respect. Satisfied on this score, he put it back into the pocket from which
he had taken it. Going out to the stable, he mounted his horse and rode
away, taking the road that had been made to pass through and connect the
several parts of the vast Dalton estate. On every side of him were tokens
of what the forces of nature were doing for him. The earth holding in her
bosom the roots of acres of Indian corn, was yielding up her substance that
the grain might ripen unto harvest. The stalks were bravely bearing the
swelling ears. The beautiful drooping blades drank in the contributions
that the sun and the air had to bestow.

Thus all nature was at one working for the welfare of the future master of
the Dalton place. But he had no eye for nature's loving panorama. A master
passion had his soul within its grasp.




CHAPTER III.

A FALLEN MAN SHOOTS.


About one dozen years prior to the time of the beginning of our story,
Lemuel Dalton, then a lad, was fishing on the banks of a body of water
known as "Murray's Pond." The scene surrounding it was one of extreme
loveliness, and Lemuel, though a child, was yet poet enough to be silent
while nature was speaking to him so eloquently and yet so soothingly. There
was the shining sun above bathing the scene with its summer warmth. There
were the trees standing around, lazily luxuriant, surfeited. Wild flowers
of varied hues were present in great profusion, as much as to say, "See,
this is not so bad a world after all, else we could not be here." The trees
that stood near to the pond cast their shadows upon its clear waters and
saw with satisfaction themselves mirrored therein. A few cows had come to
the pond and stood in one section thereof, the embodiment of contentment,
leisurely tinkling their bells. Lemuel was absorbed in the contemplation of
this scene.

A <DW64> boy, about Lemuel's age, but much larger, was fishing on the other
side of the pond. The scenery had no charms for this boy, who, tiring of
the monotony of unsuccessful angling, decided to leave his side of the pond
and engage in a conversation with Lemuel.

When he drew near, Lemuel paid no attention to him, not so much as casting
a glance in his direction.

Nothing daunted by this seeming indifference, the <DW64> boy attempted to
start up a conversation. "Good place to fish, ain't it?" he said.

Not a muscle in Lemuel's face moved.

Drawing a little closer, the <DW64> boy touched Lemuel on the shoulder, and
with a smile said, "Good place to fish, ain't it?"

Lemuel moved away, neither speaking to nor looking at the boy.

The <DW64> boy now got angry, and, throwing his fishing pole across his
shoulder, started away, saying with a sort of lilt that resembled singing:

    "I like sugar,
    I like hash,
    I'd rather be a <DW65>
    Than poor white trash."

This was the taunting reply used by <DW64> children to avenge insults, real
or imaginary, coming from white children. It was tantamount to a
declaration of war, and was everywhere regarded as a _casus belli_, and
Lemuel Dalton accepted it as such. He sprang to his feet and was soon
engaged in a fisticuff with the <DW64> boy, who, however, proved to be his
superior and signally defeated him.

Lemuel Dalton, the man, is on his way to see this <DW64>, now also a man. It
is his purpose to settle this old score before assuming charge of his
estate on the morrow. We shall now acquaint you more fully with his
prospective antagonist.

There lived on the Dalton estate a <DW64> of middle age and medium height,
who bore the name of Stephen Dalton. In his youth he was a slave of the
Dalton's and remained on the place after the coming of freedom. Sober,
industrious, thrifty, thoroughly honest, peaceably inclined, he enjoyed to
a remarkable degree the esteem of the white and <DW52> people of all
classes.

Maurice Dalton was only nominally the head of the Dalton estate, the
practical operations of his farming affairs being entrusted to the care of
this <DW64>, Stephen Dalton.

Stephen Dalton's household consisted of himself, a son and a daughter, his
wife being dead. It was this son, who years ago, had had the fight with
Lemuel Dalton. Harry Dalton, for such was the son's name, was now a very
handsome, vigorous looking young man. He was conscious of his acceptable
personal appearance and was somewhat vain. This vanity was not lessened, of
course, by his knowledge of the fact that he was the best farm hand in all
that section of country. He was, however, very companionable, and his
uniformly cheerful disposition made him a sort of favorite with all, in
spite of his touch of vanity. He had attended the public school located in
his vicinity, and while not very proficient, had succeeded in mastering
about all that the teacher could impart.

On this particular day Harry has abandoned his field duties, and, watched
by his very devoted sister, Beulah, is engaged in practice in order that he
may be in prime condition for the sports incident to the coming of an
excursion from the neighboring city to a nearby grove. Harry was the
champion runner, jumper, boxer and baseball player, and was quite eager to
maintain his proud distinction.

Beulah, who stood in the doorway of the three-room farm house in which they
lived, said to Harry, "Look behind you! Yonder comes old Lemuel Dalton!"

Harry glanced over his shoulder, but did not desist from his practice.

Lemuel Dalton rode up to where Harry was, dismounted, hitched his horse,
and came directly in front of Harry.

Since their fight at Murray's Pond the two had not spoken to each other,
and both now understood that a fight was to ensue. In a biting tone Lemuel
Dalton began:

"I suppose you know that I am owner of this place. I have come to lay down
my law to you. You are the leading sport on the place. Regardless of the
condition of crops you quit to go to picnics, shows, dances, camp meetings,
funerals, and on every excursion that comes along. Your example is
demoralizing to the whole farm. I assume charge of this place to-morrow,
and I want you to understand that you cannot go to the picnic scheduled for
that day."

Harry was fairly enraged that a white man should speak to him as though he
were a slave. Before he could suppress his anger enough to trust himself to
speak, Beulah cried out from the door:

"Don't that beat you? Some poor white trash that gets places by the death
of their uncles don't know that Grant whipped Lee and Jeff Davis was hung
to a sour apple tree."

Quivering with rage, Lemuel Dalton said to Harry: "You apologize for what
that girl has said."

"She has spoken my sentiments," said Harry.

The two now began to prepare for battle. Lemuel Dalton advanced toward
Harry and began the conflict with a stinging blow on Harry's left cheek.
The battle was then on in earnest. Harry had the advantage in point of
native strength. Lemuel's reach was longer than that of Harry, and he was
by far the more skillful. He had for years been taking boxing lessons
secretly, that he might be prepared for this very occasion. Lemuel Dalton
had the further advantage of coolness. Harry, allowing his emotions of
anger to influence him too largely, struck out wildly and thus dissipated
much of his strength. Lemuel's wariness in evading Harry's onslaughts and
skill in delivering blows added to Harry's irritation.

As the battle progressed it began to dawn on Harry that somehow he had met
with more than his match. The thought of being defeated by Lemuel and in
the presence of Beulah was too galling, and Harry determined to prevent
such an outcome at all hazards. In a fit of exasperation, and in return for
a well aimed blow from Lemuel, Harry delivered a powerful kick in his
abdomen. Lemuel staggered backward and fell to the ground, Harry rushing
toward him.

"Is that your game?" shouted Lemuel. Half raising himself by means of his
left elbow, with his right hand he drew his pistol in time to shoot Harry
just as the latter was about to throw himself upon him. Harry now fell to
the ground seriously wounded.

Beulah came rushing to Harry's side screaming loudly.

"That comes of insulting poor white trash," said Lemuel Dalton, as he
mounted his horse. As he turned to go he cast a look of triumph and
contempt at the wounded <DW64> and his screaming sister. Beulah's cries
brought help from the field near by, and strong hands bore Harry into the
house.




CHAPTER IV.

THE CLANS GATHER.


News of the fight between Lemuel Dalton and Harry Dalton soon spread
throughout the surrounding regions. The diffusion of news was so rapid
because in the country each person regarded himself as a courier in duty
bound to convey word to his immediate neighbors. The white farmers
abandoned their tasks, armed themselves and hurried to the Dalton house.

At nightfall the <DW64> farm hands from far and near hastened to Stephen
Dalton's home, secreting in their clothes such weapons as pistols,
hatchets, razors, bowie knives, clubs, etc.

Thus, what was originally a personal encounter between two individuals
contained the germs of a race war.

When a sufficient number of the whites had gathered at the Dalton house to
justify it, an informal meeting was held in the large front room. 'Squire
Mullen, a short, fat man, with a face of full length but somewhat narrower
than it might have been, assumed the leadership of the meeting. His upper
lip was shaved clean, while his chin supported a beard about three inches
long. He spoke in a quick, jerky fashion, addressing Lemuel Dalton in the
name of the assemblage as follows:

"We have heard of the difficulty between you and one of the darkeys on your
place. We have come to learn from you the particulars about it, to find out
just what action must be taken by us. We are not seeking to interfere with
your affairs, but darkeys must be made to feel always that whatever any one
of them does to one white man is considered as done to all white men; we
shall be pleased, therefore, to receive any information that you may see
fit to give."

In response to this address Lemuel Dalton gave to the assemblage a full and
truthful account of the happening. When he was through, 'Squire Mullen
sprang to his feet saying, "Permit me, sir, to voice the sentiments of my
fellows. We did not come here to sit in judgment on your action. We came
here under the inspiration of the Anglo-Saxon motto, which is summed up in
these words, 'My country, may she be always right. But, right or wrong, my
country.' We came here, sir, to take up your cause; but your account shows
that you have struck us a blow in the face--square in the face."

"You will, of course, explain your remarks," interposed Lemuel Dalton, in a
tone which signified his non-acceptance of 'Squire Mullen's view of
matters.

"Certainly, certainly, sir. In the midst of circumstances such as exist in
the South, the greatest force that makes for peace is the cultivation in
the white man of a sense of superiority and in the darkey a sense of
inferiority. Engender in the darkey a sense of his inferiority and it will
paralyze his aggressiveness and do more to keep him down than a standing
army. What we practice in the South is racial hypnotism. We erect signs
everywhere, notifying the darkey of his inferiority. To be effective this
work must be co-operated in by practically the whole body of white men.
That's why we object to any white man's attempt to disabuse the <DW64>'s
mind of this sense of inferiority. You, sir, have acted in a manner to
cause us to lose the aid of this sense of inferiority in dealing with our
darkeys. You have made our task of controlling them the harder. You have
thus done us harm and the darkeys harm."

"You have not yet shown how my actions transgress your mode of procedure,"
said Lemuel Dalton.

"Why, sir, you fought the darkey on terms of equality. You fought him man
to man. You should have sat on your horse and scolded him. If he had spoken
insultingly, you should have used your horsewhip on him. If he had proven
dangerous, it was your duty to have shot him without further ado. A
fisticuff between a white man and a darkey savors too much of equality, a
feeling that must be kept out of the <DW64> at all hazards."

"Permit me to add a word," requested a feeble-voiced young man, rising in a
most timid manner, rubbing his hands together nervously.

'Squire Mullen gave him a reassuring look and he proceeded.

"I simply wish to reinforce what 'Squire Mullen has said by a historical
incident. On a certain occasion when the Scythians were returning from a
war in which they had been engaged, they received news that the servants
whom they had left behind had mutinied and taken possession of the city and
the households of their former masters. The Scythians were preparing to
attack the slaves with a full accoutrement of arms when one of their number
protested. He told his fellows that the best way to conquer the slaves was
to discard arms and go with whips simply. He held that arms would suggest
equality, while whips would be a reminder to the slaves as to what they
were. The experiment succeeded and the Scythians effected a re-enslavement
without any bloodshed. So, I agree with 'Squire Mullen that it is a great
help to superiors to keep alive in inferiors a well developed sense of
their inferiority. It certainly helps to keep them in subjection. The
Scythian whips, which had as an aid the feeling of inferiority, were more
successful than arms would have been, carrying along with them the idea of
equality.

"A profound thinker of our day sets forth this idea in these words:

"'There are the respective mental traits produced by daily exercise of
power and by daily submission to power. The ideas, and sentiments, and
modes of behavior, perpetually repeated, generate on the one side an
inherited fitness for command, and on the other side an inherited fitness
for obedience; with the result that, in course of time, there arises on
both sides the belief that the established relations of classes are the
natural ones.'"

The young man dropped into his seat and looked around rather bashfully and
wistfully, hoping that he would be regarded as having made an acceptable
contribution to the dominant thought of the occasion.

All eyes were now directed to Lemuel Dalton, awaiting his reply.

"Gentlemen," said he, "if you will but go a little deeper into the subject
you will see that my action was in accordance with and not contrary to the
philosophy which you enunciate."

There was a slight bustle of astonishment at this claim, but Lemuel
proceeded without regard thereto.

"When I was a lad, that <DW64> insulted and then beat me. No doubt he
carried with him for years the thought that he was physically my superior.
I was determined to wrest from him this conception. Had I proceeded
against him on terms which he regarded as unfair, he would not have
inwardly restored to me the palm which he wrested from me years ago. But,
proceeding against him on terms of equality as I did, he is forced to
acknowledge in his innermost consciousness that I am physically his
superior. I, for one, think that we white men make a mistake in not seeking
by physical culture to maintain even our physical superiority. I am in
favor of the doctrine of Anglo-Saxon superiority in all realms, even the
physical."

'Squire Mullen, with a smile upon his face, came forward and grasped Lemuel
Dalton by the hand.

"We understand you better now, sir. We are proud of you, sir. Lads, hear
what he says. In developing brain don't forget brawn. The darkey now has
brawn. His strong physique and reproductive powers, show that he is in the
world to stay to the end of time. If, in the years to come, he adds mental
to physical endowment, we may be in the lurch unless we take care of the
physical side of our development. Give me your hand again, sir," said
'Squire Mullen, once more shaking hands with Lemuel Dalton.

This matter having been disposed of, consideration was now given to Harry
and Beulah. It was the concensus of opinion that the education which Harry
and Beulah had received was mainly responsible for what the whites termed
"arrogant assumption of equality."

The advisability and inadvisability of educating the <DW64> was gone into
and the conclusion reached that the only safe education for the <DW64> was
the education that taught him better how to work. It was decided that Harry
had been punished equitably for his offense against Lemuel Dalton as an
_individual_. They held that something must be done however, to avenge the
insult to the white _race_, perpetrated when one of their number was
assailed.

As a result of their deliberations, lasting well up into the night, it was
decided to drive Harry and Beulah out of the settlement, both as a
punishment for their offense and as a warning to other <DW64>s against
"impudence towards their superiors."

In the meanwhile the <DW64>s had been coming and going at Stephen Dalton's.
They came in part from curiosity, in part to see if they were in danger,
and in part out of sympathy. They all listened critically to Beulah's
recital of the trouble.

The practically unanimous verdict was that Beulah and Harry could and
should have avoided the conflict. Arriving at this conclusion they all
left, not being disposed to help in a case where all of the blame was not
on the white man. In the dead of the night the whites rode up to the house
and tacked thereon a notice, warning Harry and Beulah Dalton to remove from
the settlement forever before the dawn of day on the first of January of
the incoming year. When the <DW64>s heard of this decree they were
incensed.

"Ernuf is ernuf," said one. "An' a <DW65> ain't er dog. 'Twuz ernuf ter
shoot de <DW65>. We didun't do nuffin' 'bout dat, kase de <DW65>s wuz
some'ut ter blame. But dey ez carrin' de thing too fur. Ernuf is ernuf!"

This sentiment was universal among the <DW64>s, and they decided, one and
all, to retaliate by leaving the settlement along with Harry and Beulah.

About thirty miles distant was the city of R----, the great commercial
center of all the surrounding sections. This city now became the Mecca of
these <DW64>s. But other troubles were to ensue ere they accomplished their
design to enter R----.




CHAPTER V.

BREEDS TROUBLE FOR AFTER YEARS.


When Lemuel Dalton rode into his yard fresh from his encounter with Harry
Dalton, Aunt Catherine and Morlene were in a wagon ready to be driven to
the city, where it was their purpose to dwell.

Lemuel Dalton noticed the look of inquiry which his battered appearance
evoked from Morlene's expressive eyes, and, as if to prevent her from
thinking that he had been worsted and that her prophecy was already coming
true, said in a haughty tone: "I do not know how much interest a knowledge
of the fact may be to you, yet, I inform you that I have just shot down
that impudent <DW64>, Harry Dalton."

Morlene was of a deeply sympathetic mould, and, upon receiving this
information, tears came into her eyes. Alighting from the wagon, she said:
"Go! Go! Aunt Catherine, from this accursed place. I will come to the city
soon. It may be that Harry is not killed. If I can save his life I can ward
off that much of the terrible debt that this man is piling up against
himself." Gathering her skirts about her, weeping as she ran, she arrived
at Stephen Dalton's house and assumed charge of the nursing of Harry.

Harry's wound was an exceedingly dangerous one, but the doctor's skill,
supplemented by Morlene's zealous care, eventually brought him to a stage
of convalescence. But Morlene's tenderness of heart had brought her into a
situation where unforeseen complications arose to sorely disturb her peace
of mind.

So, soon as Harry became conscious of Morlene's presence in his home as his
nurse, he began to look upon his being shot as an especially kind act on
the part of providence. From early childhood he had been an ardent admirer
of Morlene, but her stay at the Dalton house under the guardianship of
Maurice Dalton, had caused him to feel that there was an impassable gulf
between them. He had never been able to summon sufficient courage to go up
to the "big house" with the intention of paying his respects to Morlene. He
now entertained not one spark of ill will toward Lemuel Dalton for shooting
him, since it was the means of drawing Morlene to his side. The scrupulous
care and great tenderness exercised by her in the nursing of Harry, were
construed by him to be indications of a strong attachment, and his hopes of
a favorable outcome of his suit grew greater from day to day, until he at
last regarded his acceptance as an assured fact.

One day, after he was able to sit up, he beckoned for Morlene to come to
his side, intending to make a declaration of love. Morlene came and looked
into Harry's face tenderly, awaiting his request, which she presumed would
be upon some matter in line with her duties as a nurse. When Harry looked
up into her face, so tenderly beautiful, his heart failed him. "Too
beautiful for a fellow like me," he thought. "I have changed my mind, Miss
Dalton," said Harry, abandoning his purpose for the time being.

Morlene looked at Harry out of those wondrous eyes of hers, playfully
feigning reproach, shaking her forefinger at him the while, in no wise
dreaming of the emotions at work in Harry's bosom.

The day at last came when Harry found himself possessing sufficient courage
to make a declaration of love. It was indeed a rude awakening for Morlene
when she realized in what manner she had been the object of Harry's
thoughts, a contingency upon which she had in no wise calculated. When her
emotion of surprise had sufficiently abated to permit it, she told Harry in
a very pleasant manner that he was sick and should wait until he was well
before giving attention to so grave a question as marriage.

Harry had discerned how his proposal had surprised Morlene, and he now knew
that she had not given him one thought as a possible husband. He saw
clearly that Morlene's many acts of kindness to him were based purely on
sympathy, not love. This so discouraged Harry that it was not many days
before he began to grow worse. His decline was so persistent, refusing to
yield to any treatment, that the doctor was sorely puzzled as to the cause
of the relapse and the treatment necessary to effect a change.

Harry's illness now reached such a stage that all began to despair of his
life. Beulah kept constant watch at his bedside, noting his every
expression. She noticed how Harry's eyes followed wherever Morlene moved
about in the room; how that he was restless when she was out of sight and
contented when she was near. And in all this devotion exhibited by Harry
she intuitively felt the presence of hopelessness. She framed the theory in
her mind that the mysterious cause of Harry's decline was none other than
an unrequited love for Morlene.

The doctor came, felt Harry's pulse, shook his head, and left the room.
Beulah also went out and revealed to him her thoughts.

"By Jove!" said he, "Why did I not think of that myself? The girl is as
beautiful as a sylph. She can save him, I am sure. That boy's relapse can
be explained on no other hypothesis. See what you can do with the girl. It
is the only hope left." So saying, the doctor went his way.

Beulah now re-entered the house and asked Morlene to take a walk with her.
Arm in arm the two girls went down the little pathway leading from the
house. Coming opposite to a grove of trees they turned toward it, entered,
and sat down upon a fallen log.

"Morlene, are you in love with any one?" asked Beulah.

"No, my dear. Why do you ask?" replied Morlene.

"I have a request to make of you, which I can the more freely do since you
say that you are not in love."

Morlene's face took on a puzzled expression.

"What possible relation does my not being in love bear to any request that
you might make?" inquired Morlene.

"The doctor has told me that the only hope of saving Harry's life lies in
your consenting to marry him. He is dying of love for you," said Beulah.

Morlene stood up affrighted.

Beulah continued: "Harry looks at you so sad-like. A word from you,
Morlene, will save him."

Morlene sat down and raised a hand to her forehead. "Beulah," said she, "I
fear that there is something in what you say. I now recall that his decline
in health began about the time when I refused to consider a proposal of
marriage which he made. But Beulah, I do not _love_ Harry. I think well of
him, but I do not love him."

"You could learn to love him," said Beulah.

"No, I am quite sure, Beulah, that I could never love a man on Harry's
order. Something within tells me that somewhere in the world there is an
ideal man that awaits my coming. He shall awaken all the slumbering fires
of my soul and my life shall entwine itself about his. Beulah, I believe
all this with my whole heart."

Morlene spoke in tones quavering with emotion, her beautiful face showing
signs of tragic earnestness and her eyes assuming a far-off expression as
if the soul was seeking to divine the future.

"Morlene, you and I are poor country girls and can talk plainly to each
other. You have been reading books up at the Dalton house which set forth
the deeds of mighty men. Out of all that you have gleaned from books you
have constructed your ideal man whom you feel awaits you in the world.
Morlene, we country girls have only a limited education and know but little
of the requirements of the higher walks of life. The man whom your
imagination has selected will be so much your superior in point of culture
that he will not notice you."

This was a well directed shaft and Morlene's body twitched as if it had
been entered by some deadly missile; for it had been the one dread of her
life that the man whom she could love would consider her mind too poorly
trained to become his companion. Morlene buried her face in her hands.

Beulah followed up the advantage which she saw that she had gained, saying:

"Morlene, your own judgment must teach you that your ideal is impossible of
attainment. Put over against this impracticable ideal my honest,
industrious, wounded brother, who is being destroyed by his love for you.
Do not, Morlene, allow poor Harry to die because of a vague hope."

A pet squirrel which had been tamed by Harry, and which was very fond of
him, was jumping from limb to limb in a neighboring tree. Spying Morlene
and Beulah, it began to descend, making looks of inquiry at various stages
of its journey. Upon reaching the ground, it began to hop in the direction
of the two girls, halting now and then to turn its little head first one
way and then another, always keeping one or the other of his brown eyes
looking in their direction. When only a few feet from them, it reared upon
its hind feet and looked intently at them. They were evidently too sad in
appearance, for it immediately scampered away to resume its sport.

"Even the squirrel has come to plead for Harry, Morlene," said Beulah.

Morlene's answer was a deep sigh.

"Beulah," said Morlene, taking her hands from her face, "you hardly know
what you ask. This love which God has planted in a woman's bosom is the
source of the highest joy that she knows during her stay on earth. You are
asking me to surrender the most precious gift of my Creator, my one chance
of supreme happiness."

Beulah now burst into crying, calling into play woman's most formidable
weapons--her tears.

"All right, Morlene. Poor Harry will be dead to-morrow, and I shall soon
die of grief. You know how my dear father loves us. Our deaths will break
his heart. When we are dead, Morlene, remember that the surrender of an
idle hope on your part would have saved us all."

Beulah, weeping bitterly, now arose to go. Morlene's sympathetic nature
could not longer resist the strain.

"Beulah, Beulah, it is hard to do as you ask. How hard, the future alone
can tell. I consent to sacrifice myself. I don't understand this world,
anyway! Why am I placed in such a trying situation? I will marry Harry!"

It was now Morlene's time to cry. She wept bitterly, her gentle spirit
chiding the cruel fate that had woven such a web about her feet.
Parentless, homeless, friendless, now doomed to a loveless marriage, she
considered her lot an inexpressibly hard one.

The two girls wept together, Beulah now weeping over the necessity of
imposing such a marriage on Morlene. Having as Harry's sister persuaded
Morlene into agreeing to the marriage, she now as a woman wept in sympathy
with Morlene over a prospective wedlock without love. When the two had
regained self-control, they returned to the house. Morlene went to Harry's
bedside and knelt there. She took his enfeebled arm and laid it across her
shoulder, smiling at him sweetly the while.

"Harry," said she, "I have come to tell you that I am going to be your
wife, a true wife--one that will do all that is in her power for your
comfort and welfare."

So saying she leaned forward and sealed her doom with a kiss.

Beulah, eager to insure Harry's recovery, and fearing that Morlene, after a
period of reflection, might deny the binding force of a vow extorted from
her in the dread presence of death, hastened matters. The next day Harry
and Morlene were duly pronounced man and wife.

When a woman's hand is chained and her heart is free!




CHAPTER VI.

AN ACT OF WHICH NOBODY IS PROUD.


The decision reached by the assemblage of <DW64>s in the first burst of
excitement over the posting of the notice demanding that Harry and Beulah
leave the settlement, was adhered to, and on Christmas Eve several wagon
loads of young <DW64> men and women started on their journey to the city.
The crops had been marketed and each one had come into possession of the
profits on his year's labor. In no case was the amount very large, but it
caused all to be in good cheer.

The occupants of the wagons were as numerous as the wagons could well hold,
and they rode standing up, holding to each other to keep from falling
whenever the uneven character of the road caused the wagons to jolt. A jug
of whiskey had been placed in each wagon and from it bottles were filled
and passed around, men, women and children alike taking each a "dram." Loud
laughing, playful bantering, sallies of coarse wit, ribald singing,
characterized this journey to the city. The more sober and religious
element of the <DW64>s, who were disgusted with this sort of conduct,
stayed behind to avoid contact with those inclined toward rowdyism. They
wished also to improve the occasion by holding one more service of worship
in their country church house.

On Christmas morning the church was filled with those who had come to
worship God there, perhaps for the last time. The minister was expected to
preach a sermon appropriate to the occasion. Recognizing this expectation,
he sought to fulfill it, and chose for his text, Hebrews xi:16:

"But now they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly: wherefore God
is not ashamed to be called their God: for he hath prepared for them a
city."

The preacher began his discourse in that deeply pathetic tone accompanied
with prolonged mournful cadences, once so largely in vogue among a certain
class of <DW64> preachers. This tone, so full of the note of sorrow, found
responsive chords in the bosoms of his hearers and a bond of fellowship for
the occasion was at once established between him and them. His every
utterance was saluted with an answering groan or sympathetic manifestation
of some kind, evoked as much by the tone of voice as by the sentiment
expressed. The responses of the people heightened the emotions of the
preacher. Thus the preacher and the people acting and reacting upon each
other, produced a highly emotional state of affairs.

The burden of the preacher's discourse was an account of the wanderings of
Abraham and the subsequent sorrowful career of his descendants in the land
of Egypt. With a constantly swelling tide of emotions the hearers followed
the dolorous account, which was made the more touching by instituting
comparisons, the purport of which was to show that the <DW64>s were having
similar experiences. In drawing to a close, he emphasized the thought that
the God that prepared a goodly land for the Jews would take care of the
<DW64>s. He urged them to leave the question of their earthly welfare in
the hands of God and center their thoughts on Heaven. He entered into a
dramatic description of the Christian's getting ready to wade across the
Jordan of death.

Then came a vivid word painting of the scenes beyond--the green fields of
Eden; the pearly gates standing ajar; the gold paved streets; the jasper
walls; the tree of life; the long white robes; the silver slippers; the
starry crown; the palms of victory; the harps of gold. The Christian was to
go into the city, he set forth, and sit upon a throne singing God's praise,
looking out of the window of heaven while the sun was covered with
sackcloth and ashes and the moon was dripping away in blood.

His very last remarks were made sitting down, in representation of the
final rest of the Christian in the midst of the stirring scenes depicted.

The tumultuous scene which accompanied and followed this highly dramatic
peroration beggars description. Women screamed and shouted and fainted,
while men wept like babes and clambered from seat to seat wild with
emotion. Such was the character of the religious preparation that the
<DW64>s had for the grave responsibilities of life in the city. While these
things were transpiring at the church, a frightful tragedy was being
enacted elsewhere. A short outline of the circumstances leading up thereto
is now necessary.

When the white farmers became aware of the fact that there was to be a
wholesale exodus of <DW64>s from the settlement, they were much enraged.
They recognized the fact that the <DW64> made a very good laborer, in spite
of his foibles, and they were loth to let him go. Their course toward him
was not, as they understood it, dictated by prejudice nor tainted with
injustice. They were thoroughly imbued with the doctrine that they were
inherently superior to the <DW64> and instituted repressive measures to keep
alive recognition of this claim. This was the Alpha and Omega of their
purposes, and they were angered, that their course, to them righteous,
should be accepted in any other spirit, and should operate to disturb the
social fabric. They argued with the <DW64>s, endeavoring to show them that
they were not opposed to <DW64>s _per se_, but to "sassy" <DW64>s that
tried to put on airs and represent themselves to be as good as white
people. All efforts to stem the tide of emigration failed, however.

Lemuel Dalton alone was undisturbed by the outcome. Years before, as the
prospective landlord of the Dalton place, he had made a careful study as to
how he could operate the plantation without the aid of <DW64>s. He had come
to the conclusion that the presence of the <DW64> on the farm lands of the
South, was the chief cause of its backwardness. He looked upon the <DW64> as
being of too conservative a mold, averse, like all primitive people, to
innovations. He had given earnest study to improved methods of farming and
had determined upon many changes that would dispense with much labor. He
had in mind to substitute barbed wire for rail fences and thus be rid of
<DW64> rail-splitters. Improved plows, planting, threshing and harvesting
machines--in fact, the whole category of labor-saving devices for farming
were to be brought into use. By thus elevating farm life from a condition
of extreme drudgery he felt hopeful of securing white farm hands to take
the place of <DW64>s. So the contemplated exodus did not in the least
affect Lemuel Dalton's peace of mind.

Not so with other young white men of the settlement, yet living on their
fathers' places. In view of a prospective scarcity of "hands" they had been
notified that they would have to abandon their lives of ease and help to
man the farms. The thought of performing the drudgery incident to farm
life was very distasteful to them, and they became very bitter in their
feelings toward the <DW64>s.

On this Christmas morning, a number of these young white men went to the
one whisky shop in the vicinity to drink off their troubles. As they became
intoxicated, their fury rose until it was evident that trouble of some sort
was certain to ensue. One of the drunken lot said, "Boys, what say you?
Down with the cause of all our troubles! What shall we do with Beulah
Dalton?"

"Kill her! Kill her! Kill her!" rang out from the throats of the
half-drunken crowd.

With much yelling and hooting, they started toward Stephen Dalton's home.
Beulah had always been disliked by the young white men, as she persistently
refused to speak to any of them that did not call her "Miss Beulah." This
long nourished feeling of animosity was no doubt a factor, though
unconsciously so, in the present movement against her.

Beulah had remained at home, while the others went to the church. She was
completing her preparations for the journey to the city, to take place on
the morrow. She heard the wild shouts drawing nearer and nearer, and looked
out of her window to discover the meaning thereof. The crowd caught sight
of her, and with a yell of savage delight, came toward the house at full
speed.

Beulah had the presence of mind to barricade the doors. The windows were
furnished with thick oak doors that closed from the inside and effected a
protection for the apertures supplementary to that of the window panes.
These doors Beulah closed.

When the crowd arrived at the house they found Beulah securely ensconced.
As their doings were not premeditated, they had come from their homes
without implements with which to batter down the doors. Finding their
purpose of capturing Beulah thwarted, they were under the necessity of
providing another mode of procedure.

"Burn her up!" said one.

"You are a coward. The gal ain't no rat. Give her a chance, fool," replied
another.

"Who calls me a fool?" shouted the first speaker. "I will kill the
scoundrel," he added.

A wrangle here broke out and a free for all fight was threatened, some
favoring one of the disputants and some the other. While they were engaged
in this drunken squabble, one of their number had gotten into the kitchen
and had saturated the floor with kerosene oil. He then set fire to the
building.

Beulah heard the roaring flames and decided to make a bold dash for life.
She was a country girl, vigorous of frame and fleet of foot and hoped to
outrun the crowd in their drunken condition. Quietly unpinning the barred
door, she leaped out and began to run. She chose the side of the house
opposite to the one where she heard the noise, and supposed that at least a
short interval would intervene before the crowd discovered that she had
escaped.

But the young man who had set the house on fire had gone to that side of
the house in anticipation of an attempt to escape. When he saw Beulah run
forth from the building, he uttered a yell and with great effort of will
steadied himself sufficiently to hurl at the fleeing girl a stick of stove
wood which he had gotten in the kitchen. The stick struck her on the back
of her head. Beulah fell forward and in a few minutes breathed her last.
When the <DW64>s returned from church, they found the ashes of the house
and, a short distance away, Beulah lying on her face in a puddle of blood.
The perpetrators of the crime had fled.




CHAPTER VII.

A MAN AGAINST A REGIMENT.


Stephen Dalton, whose conservatism was proverbial; who had been from time
immemorial the assuager of race animosities; who had so successfully
mediated between the whites and the <DW64>s at every previous crisis, was
at last thoroughly aroused to action. The ills of which the <DW64>s had
complained, and concerning which he had always counseled moderation, were
now brought home to his own door. As a result of the race feeling his son
had been wounded, his house burned, the friendly relations of a lifetime
destroyed, and his daughter, the pride of his heart, murdered while at home
unprotected. With his gun on his shoulder he tramped from house to house
for miles around exhorting the <DW64>s to repair to a designated spot where
they would march in unison to attack the whites.

The <DW64>s felt that the time for action had assuredly come if "cool
headed" Stephen, as he was called, was aroused to the point of action.
Their long pent-up feelings of resentment now became rampant and they
gathered in force at the point selected by Stephen. They came armed with
such weapons as they could buy, borrow or steal.

The white people of the settlement became thoroughly alarmed; for, though
the <DW64> was regarded as a normally peaceful being, they felt that there
was a latent sanguinary nature and a sort of reckless dare-devil bravery
that burst forth upon occasion and was dangerous. They telephoned to all
nearby stores, requesting that firearms and munitions of war be denied to
all would-be <DW64> purchasers. Word was sent to neighboring settlements to
guard the crossroads and prevent other <DW64>s from different sections
coming to the assistance of those already in arms.

The telegraph and telephone stations were put under strict censorship, and
all newspaper reporters were warned to send out no accounts of the trouble
that would create the least vestige of a doubt as to the entire justice of
all the proceedings of the whites.

Messages were sent to the governor that a race riot was imminent, and an
urgent plea was made for several companies of State troops. These were
forthwith dispatched.

The whites who had armed themselves, now joined the ranks of the State
troops to assist in quelling the uprising of the <DW64>s. There was no
desire among the whites for bloodshed, and, being fully prepared for war,
now cast about for a means of bringing about peace.

The usual mediator, Stephen Dalton, being the leader of the <DW64>s, they
had to search for another. They decided to impress into their service for
that task the <DW64> public school teacher.

The <DW64> school teacher has perhaps been the greatest conservator of peace
in the South, laboring _for_ the <DW64>s by the _appointment_ of the
whites, being thus placed in a position where it was to his interest to
keep on good terms with both races. Thus the whites on this occasion sent
the school teacher to confer with the <DW64>s.

Arriving at the <DW64> assemblage the teacher approached Stephen Dalton.

"Good evening, sir," said he to Stephen.

"Good evenin'," was Stephen's gruff response.

By this time a number of Stephen's lieutenants had clustered around the
two, eagerly looking from the teacher to Stephen and from Stephen to the
teacher, bent on catching whatever might pass between them. They made no
attempt to conceal their feeling of curiosity, which was as manifest as in
the case of children.

"May I be allowed to address this gathering?" asked the teacher of Stephen.

"Whar is you frum?" queried Stephen, grumly.

"I have just come from the white people's rendezvous," he replied.

"Thought so. Bettah go back dar, I 'specks," said Stephen, turning his back
and walking away.

The teacher now turned to the others who had crowded about him. "Men," said
he, "I have something to say that concerns you all. Uncle Stephen is
interested in this whole affair in too personal a manner for you men to
commit your interests blindly to him. In times like these you need a man
who is in such a frame of mind that he can weigh everything. Now, you all
know that Uncle Stephen has had enough to unbalance anybody, and, I tell
you, men, unbalanced minds are not safe guides in such times as these."

The men gathered about the teacher now looked in the direction of Stephen.
He, seeing that the teacher was engaging the attention of the crowd,
decided to return and order him away.

"I is cummander in chief, heah, sur, and you mus' leave dis groun' at once,
sur," said Stephen to the teacher.

The teacher now lifted his voice and said in tones that many could hear.

"In former times when other people's oxen were gored, Uncle Stephen was not
driven away when he came to see you. Uncle Stephen is a good man, but I
don't think he is that much better than the rest of you. If _your_ matters
could be talked of, it seems to be that _his_ might be talked of, too."

This blow was well aimed. There seems to be a feeling in the <DW64> race to
keep all upon a level and to resent anything that savors of superiority of
one <DW64> over another. No man who attempts to lead them can have any
measure of success unless he is thoroughly democratic in his behavior,
tastes and manner of approach. The teacher knew of this feeling, and his
remark was an adroit bid for its support.

The <DW64>s now felt a little sullen toward Stephen Dalton, their
commander, because he desired to prevent free speech on this occasion when
he had availed himself of it so often in times of threatened trouble.

"Uncle Stephen is in a mighty heap of trouble, an' ain't 'zactly at
hisself. Go er head, teacher, we'll hear you," said one.

A murmur of approval went through the crowd, which had now swelled to large
proportions.

Seeing that he had gained audience the teacher began. In his speech he set
forth that the killing of Beulah was not indicative of the feelings of the
best white people toward the <DW64>s, nor of the real feelings of the worse
elements of whites. He said that liquor was at the root of the murder, and
that in a measure the <DW52> people were responsible, because it was their
vote that kept liquor from being voted out of the county at a local option
election held a short while previous. To this the <DW64>s nodded assent,
for they knew it to be true. The teacher asked why, as sensible people,
they were going to have all the folks of the community, good and bad, white
and , killed for an act that liquor was mainly responsible for, they
being responsible for the liquor.

Then the teacher recited the facts as to the superior training, numbers,
equipment, transportation facilities, means of inter-communication of the
whites. He dwelt upon the fact that the <DW64>s were practically cut off
from all other <DW64>s, and the battle would really be between that little
handful of <DW64>s and the whole body of white people of the South. The
teacher spoke earnestly, and impressed the throng that he was doing them a
service in calling their attention to their hopeless plight.

When the teacher was through his hearers were won over to his way of
thinking.

Stephen Dalton had foreseen what would be the outcome, knowing from
experience how susceptible the <DW64>s were to argument at such times.
Before the teacher had concluded he dropped his gun and ammunition and
walked away quite rapidly. Arriving at the place where the white soldiers
were stationed, he pulled off his coat, rolled up his sleeves, clenched his
fists, stepped forward and spoke as follows, his eyes gleaming with rage:

"Gentlemens, the man whut you done sent up yonder will turn them people,
an' I reckin it's best. Dare aint no use'n er whole lots er folks dyin' fur
me one. Now I wants to make a fair propursition ter you."

Stephen's voice grew loud and strident.

"My house is burned, my boy is shot, my gal is killed, an' me all broke up
at dis age. Gentlemens, justis' comes in som'ers. Uv course nairy one man
uv you could stan er show befo' me, fair fist an' skull fight. Pick out any
two men an' sen um to me an' I'll lick um. Gentlemens, on dat plan I'll
take the whole regurment uv you. Now, gentlemens, I ax yer in de name uv
justis, consider my propursition. Ef you think that ain't fair, I'll take
any three uv yer fair fist and skull."

Stephen now awaited an answer.

The whites, who at heart sympathized with Stephen in his grief, regarded
him as unbalanced by trouble. No one replied, and there was no thought of
harming him.

"Ah! Gentlemens, you kill er pore gal when her daddy wuz erway, but you
won't fight him, I see. Gentlemens, dare uster be bettah blood dan dat. I
was in de war wid my marster, an' he showd good blood to de Yankees. Is it
all gone, dat three uv you won't fight ur '<DW65>,' ez you call him?"

By this time the teacher had arrived, accompanied by two friends of
Stephen. They came to report that the <DW64>s had disbanded and would give
no more trouble. Stephen's two friends now approached him and stationing
themselves on either side, begged him to leave.

The old man's head drooped upon his bosom. He had at last collapsed, having
been so long under a severe mental strain. His two friends supported him
between them and bore him from the spot, Stephen repeating over and over
in a broken voice: "Boys, dey don't fight fair. Dey don't fight fair, boys.
Beulah! Beulah! your daddy can't do nuthin'. He would if he could. Boys,
dey won't fight fair."

The <DW64>s _en masse_ now gathered up their few belongings and removed to
the city of R---- with all of its aggregation of vice, of temptation, of
hardships, of alluring promises, of elusive hopes.

As they enter this typical American city, we fain would follow them, but
cannot just now. May the fates deal kindly with them.




CHAPTER VIII.

THE HINT NOT TAKEN.


The eyes of the civilized world were now directed to the settlement wherein
Beulah was murdered, in order to witness there the workings of the
sentiment of justice.

The poet's pen, the artist's brush, the sculptor's chisel, have long since
despaired of adequately setting forth the natural charms of the Southland,
the home of birds and flowers, grand with mountains, beautiful with
valleys, restful in the girdling arms of her majestic streams, presided
over by skies that are the bluest of the blue.

Knowing the proud place given the Southland by the fiat of Nature, the
world of mankind riveted its gaze upon her eagerly and pressed to know the
fate of those who murdered Beulah. The great heart of the South throbbed
with a sense of shame over the perpetration of the crime and now sought to
shake itself loose from the benumbing influences of an ever-pervading race
feeling that was so powerful as to render inoperative so many higher
sentiments. The pulpit and the press spoke in terrible tones to the hearts
and consciences of the whites in denunciation of the crime and in demand
that the guilty parties be brought to trial.

In addition to their natural horror of the crime, the best white people of
the South had another incentive for desiring that they should act worthily
in the matter. The white people had arrogated to themselves the right of
exclusive control of public affairs. This act had been quietly submitted to
by the <DW64>s, and the people of the North at that time appeared to be
disposed to accept in great measure the Southern white man's view of his
own problem. With all that they demanded practically conceded, they felt
the more under obligations to make human life within their borders safe and
sacred.

The Governor of the State offered large rewards for the apprehension and
conviction of the perpetrators of the crime. In spite, however, of all the
indignation of the South, no arrests were made. The members of the mob were
in some way related to practically every influential family in the county
in which the crime had been committed. In many cases the prosecutors would
have found themselves proceeding against their closest kin.

The coroner's jury, duly impanelled and sworn, viewed the remains of Beulah
and brought in the stereotyped verdict that "the deceased came to her death
at the hands of a party or parties to the jury unknown." This verdict
brought the incident to a close, so far as society, acting through legally
constituted agencies, was concerned. But the incident was not in reality
closed; for when a given agency fails to adequately meet the demands of
humanity, the people find a way of making their power felt. Public
sentiment began to mete out, in its own peculiar way, the justice which the
courts had felt unable to administer.

The young men who had committed the crime, found themselves ostracized on
every hand. Those who were engaged to be married, received notes cancelling
their engagements.

When the people so elect they can make a citizen's garb burn into the soul
of a man with an intensity equal to that of prison stripes. If the
perpetrators of the crime were not convicts, the difference would not have
been discovered by a comparison of their feelings with those of real
convicts.

It came to the ears of 'Squire Mullen that his son Alfred had been the one
to apply the torch and to strike the blow that brought on Beulah's death.
The 'Squire was the soul of honor, as he understood it, and while he
believed it to be the design of God that the white man should keep the
<DW64> in a subordinate place, he yet deemed it an unspeakable horror to
needlessly afflict a helpless people.

'Squire Mullen went to the room of his son on the night of the day on which
he had heard of the part that the young man had played in the matter. The
hour was late; his son was asleep in bed. The father said to himself as he
looked at his sleeping offspring:

"I do not yet know that my boy is _that_ guilty. Let me stroke those Saxon
curls and kiss his cheek once more before I find out whether or not he is
guilty." His caressings awoke Alfred, and the tenderness died out of the
'Squire's face, a look of stern justice mounted the throne.

He said: "Alfred, news reaches me that you applied the torch to Uncle
Stephen's house while his daughter was in there, and that you struck the
blow that killed her. I have come to know of you, my son, as to whether you
did or did not do these things."

Alfred sat up in bed, a look of deep remorse upon his young and handsome
face.

"Father," he said, "I would give the world to be able to truthfully say
that the statements are false; but I cannot. The statements are true, too
true!"

'Squire Mullen's eyes closed, his features became pinched, a harrowing
groan escaped his lips. In his heart, honor and justice were throttling the
love of his son. The moment was as excruciating as the soul of man ever
knew. The struggle was great, for the opposing forces were great; but the
conflict was of but a moment's duration.

'Squire Mullen turned and dragged himself out of the room. His step was no
longer elastic. That instant had brought on the old age which his
energetic will had persisted in delaying. In a few minutes he returned,
bringing with him the family pistol. He placed it on the lamp-stand that
stood at the head of Alfred's bed. Without saying a word he left the room.
He went to bed, but, alas, could not sleep. He lay throughout the night
expecting a sound that failed to come. When the fowls in the barnyard began
to signal the approach of day, he arose and went to Alfred's room again. He
said, "Alfred! Alfred! Alfred!" Alfred awoke.

"Can you sleep on such a night?" said the 'Squire, in tones of agony. "Is
the family honor that low also? Can we thus bear open disgrace? Alfred!
Alfred! There is a pistol at the head of your bed." So saying, the 'Squire
returned to his room to again listen for the sound that would have been the
most welcome of any that could be made.

Alfred now understood that his father desired him to commit suicide. He
grasped the pistol and held it in his hand. He longed at that moment for
the courage to die, but it was missing. He had been brought up from infancy
by a "black mammy," and she had succeeded in imbuing his soul with her
living fear of hell and her conceptions of a personal devil. As he sought
to lift the pistol to his head, vivid pictures of lurid flames and grinning
demons arose and paralyzed the hand that he desired to pull the trigger.
Day broke and he was yet alive.

The 'Squire now came and took the pistol from the table where Alfred had
replaced it, saying not a word to his son. That day he summoned all of his
relations that were near by to gather at his home. In response to his
request they came, their wives and daughters accompanying them.

In the middle of the afternoon the men repaired to the front yard, leaving
the women in the house. It was somewhat cold and a bonfire was started to
keep them warm. A circle of chairs was formed around the fire and the men
sat down, two chairs having been put within the circle to be occupied by
'Squire Mullen and Alfred. These two now took their seats side by side. A
huge leather back book was in the 'Squire's hands. His face wore a stern
aspect, but one could tell that grief born of love was gnawing at his
vitals. Since the previous night his hair had whitened and his brave eye
had lost its glitter. He arose to address the meeting. Opening the book
which he had in hand, he said: "Kinsmen, I hold in my hand the record book
of the Mullens. I shall on this occasion read to you a terse statement of
the most notable achievements of the Mullens from the time of William of
Normandy until the present."

They all listened attentively while he read, Alfred's eyes being cast upon
the ground.

Having traced the family history to his own generation, the 'Squire read of
the deeds of prowess of himself and the others assembled who had rendered
excellent service to the cause of the Southern Confederacy. When through
with this he called the name of Alfred Mullen.

The 'Squire paused, then said: "Kinsmen, it would appear that I must now
record the deed of one who claims to be my offspring and a partaker of the
blood of our illustrious family. If so be, then the record must read that
Alfred Mullen, on a _Christmas_ morn, murdered a <DW64> _girl_ in the
absence of all _male_ protection. The murder was _unprovoked_, and
committed by Alfred Mullen while he had the protection of a gang of his
fellows.

"Kinsmen, I have summoned you here to know if this deed must go on record.
If you decide that it shall not go on record, you know what that means."

Turning to Alfred, he said: "It means that you must abandon the name of
Mullen upon pain of being killed; that you must never lay claim to kinship
with us; that you must go forth with the mark of Cain upon your brow."

The 'Squire now took his seat. There was a short pause. Then one by one the
relatives arose and, with becoming gravity, made speeches repudiating
Alfred, insisting that his sin against the traditional honor of the house
of Mullen was unpardonable.

Before taking a final vote, Alfred was asked as to whether he had anything
to say. He made no reply; his head was still bowed. A vote was then taken
and Alfred stood expelled from the Mullen family forever.

The assembly now adjourned, and all the men, save Alfred, returned to the
house, where sat the women in silence and in sorrow. Alfred, the out-cast,
had gone. When the men entered the room Mrs. Mullen read in their
countenances the fate of her boy, and she uttered a short, sharp scream of
anguish that she could not repress.

"Mourn not for Cain," said 'Squire Mullen, whose twitching face belied the
sternness of his voice. His heart, too, was sadly, cruelly torn by what had
befallen his boy, but as best he could he maintained an outward calm.

That night a mob was formed at 'Squire Mullen's house. In silence the men
proceeded to the barroom where their sons had imbibed the inspiration for
their nefarious crime. They dragged out all of the kegs and barrels
containing liquor, and emptied the contents on the ground. They then set
the building on fire, and it was soon an ash-heap. A committee waited upon
the barkeeper, reimbursed him for his losses and warned him to never more
sell liquor in that settlement.




CHAPTER IX.

DORLAN WARTHELL.


A few years subsequent to the events recorded in the last chapter, in the
city of R----, where our country friends had gone to live, on a sultry
summer evening, near sunset, Morlene went forth into the front yard of her
home for the purpose of watering her flowers. She had on an evening gown,
while her head was hidden in a bonnet. With her back to the street, she
stood leveling the water from the hose at the various flower groups. While
she was thus engaged, a man above the average in height, possessing a form
that conveyed the impression of nobility and strength, was in the act of
passing by. When he came directly behind Morlene, having a keen relish for
nature's supreme efforts at the artistic, he was so struck with the
outlines of her form that he involuntarily stopped.

"Now that is what I call beauty," he exclaimed, without knowing that he
spoke.

Morlene vaguely felt that some one had stopped, the fact of the cessation
of the footsteps dawning upon her consciousness. She turned full around and
her eyes fell on the handsome face of the man gazing at her. His skin was
smooth, his features regular, his eye intelligent and his head so formed
as to indicate great brain power. As to color he was black, but even those
prejudiced to color forgot that prejudice when they gazed upon this
ebony-like Apollo. Wherever he appeared he was sure to attract attention as
a rare specimen of physical manhood. His was evidently an open, frank
nature, and his soul was in his face.

As Morlene looked upon him, she felt her strength give way. The hose fell
from her hands. Her very soul sent up a wail: "Alas, O God, there he is!
Why did you let him come?" She turned and fled to her house.

Dorlan Warthell, for such was the name of the man, was much discomfited
that he had so terrified the lady, and resolved at some convenient time to
apologize for the shock that his behavior had caused. He entered the yard,
stopped the waste of water from the hose and proceeded on his journey,
carrying in his mind the image of the most beautiful woman on whom he had
ever laid eyes.

Morlene on entering her room, locked the door, burst into tears, buried her
face in her hands, sobbed violently. Judge her not too harshly, dear
reader. Allow her this brief moment of weeping over the re-opened grave of
her long buried ideal; for, one glance at Dorlan Warthell, say what you
will against love at sight, had somehow sufficed to tell her penetrating
spirit that he was the one man, who, had she been free, could have exacted
that full strength of love, which, struggle as painfully as she might,
would not yield allegiance to Harry whom she had married under a species of
duress. Morlene dropped her hands from her face, forced a smile to appear,
stamped a pretty foot upon the floor and said between gritted teeth:
"Avaunt, ye idle dreams of youth; I am a woman now, a man's lawfully wedded
wife! Come not here to haunt me with visions of what might have been!"

When Harry came home from his work that evening Morlene met him with a
greeting of more than usual warmth, as much as to say, "Poor Harry, your
place in my heart is the safer, now that my dreams of other days have been
met in concrete form and gloriously vanquished." She now consoled herself
with the thought that she would one day love Harry as she had always
desired to love a husband. Happy in this thought, she retired to rest, and,
much to her chagrin and annoyance, dreamed of the handsome stranger whom
she had seen.




CHAPTER X.

CUPID SHOULD BE MORE CAREFUL.


"This is a matter worthy of investigation," mused Dorlan Warthell, some few
moments after his chance meeting with Morlene. His head was inclined
forward slightly, an unwonted sparkle was in his eye, and half a smile
played upon his serious face. His mind was seeking to grasp the outlines of
that beautiful face which he had just passed.

"Never," said he, "has Dorlan Warthell, the serious, allowed physical
beauty to so charm him. But is it mere physical beauty that has so suddenly
thrown itself across the pathway of my mind so that it will not move on?
Has nothing met me more than that lovely form, the head of a queen, angel
face, eyes that thrill? I may be mistaken, but methinks that nature has
given that choice dressing to a choice spirit. At any rate I hope to meet
her again."

Dorlan Warthell arrived at his boarding place within a few minutes and,
when seated at the supper table, spoke as follows to Mrs. Morgan, his
landlady: "I notice that our street has some new denizens since the time of
my sojourn here a few years ago."

"Yes," replied Mrs. Morgan, "There are Mr. Crutchfield, Mr. Yearby and Mr.
Dalton. These gentlemen have all come to this street since you were with us
last."

"Who lives in that beautiful cottage painted white, with that wonderful
assortment of prettily arranged flowers in the front yard?"

"Mr. and Mrs. Dalton live there," replied Mrs. Morgan, looking intently at
Dorlan, seeking to fathom the secret purpose which she felt inspired his
question; for she knew that Dorlan paid but little attention to the matter
of houses and neighbors.

"Have Mr. and Mrs. Dalton any children--a daughter?" asked Dorlan, giving
strict attention to the food on his plate.

"No; they are childless," said Mrs. Morgan, her interest growing.

"I saw a young woman up there as I passed this evening; I suppose she is
visiting them."

"I see the point--a young woman," said Mrs. Morgan inwardly.

Aloud she said, "Perhaps so. If you could describe her I might be able to
tell who she is."

Dorlan looked up quickly as much as to say, "Who in the world can describe
that beautiful woman." He kept that reflection to himself. He began to
describe the lady, when Mrs. Morgan interrupted him to say.

"Oh, that was Mrs. Dalton--Mrs. Harry Dalton--undoubtedly the most
beautiful <DW64> girl in the country."

Dorlan finished his meal in silence. He inwardly belabored himself for
having allowed his mind to be so taken up with the image of a married
woman. Repairing to his room, he was soon deeply engrossed in a book, as
thoroughly oblivious of Morlene, he thought, as if he had never seen or
heard of such a person.

On the following day at ten o'clock Morlene called at the residence of Mrs.
Morgan, it being her usual time for giving music lessons to that lady's
young daughter. The girl had gone away on an errand for her mother and had
not yet returned. Morlene entered the music room and decided to amuse
herself by playing until the child should come. Dorlan was in a room
directly over the one in which Morlene was to play. Neither of them knew of
the presence of the other in the house.

Morlene first began to play a light air upon the piano. But as she struck
the keys and brought forth harmonies, other and deeper emotions in her
bosom craved for expression. Soon she was making the piano tell her heart's
full story, to be borne away, as she thought, upon the wings of the
passing breeze. The sounds floated up to Dorlan's open window and into his
room. At first he slightly knitted his brow, fearing that he was to be
bored by some mechanical performer; but the frown relaxed and gave place to
a look of supreme contentment as the harmonies deepened. He closed the book
that he was reading, folded his arms and gazed out of his window into the
distance. He was simply enraptured and had a keen desire to know who it was
that could make lifeless matter pay such eloquent tribute to the longings
of the human soul.

At length Morlene began to play and sing:

    "John Brown's body lies moulding in the clay;
    John Brown's body lies moulding in the clay;
    John Brown's body lies moulding in the clay,
    As we go marching on.
    Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
    Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
    Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
    As we go marching on!"

Morlene's voice was a rich soprano and her tones were so round, full and
melodious that they made one feel that they did not belong to earth. Her
voice seemed to shake loose from each word tremblingly in that part of the
song setting forth the sad fate of John Brown. But as she reached the
words, "Hallelujah," the notes swelled into a grand paen of triumph, her
voice trilling so wondrously, even upon such a high elevation. Then came
the refrain in low, reverential tones, beauty muffling itself in the
presence of higher sentiments.

Dorlan Warthell sprang to his feet, clasped his hands over his ears, saying
half aloud: "Spare me! Oh, spare me! I cannot, I cannot hear those strains
and perform the tasks before me. And yet I must! I must! I must!"

Charles Sumner, who, upon the floor of the United States Senate, in tones
that resounded throughout the world, urged our Republic to clear her skirts
of the blood of the slave; Horace Greeley, who, daily in the columns of his
great newspaper, refused sleep to the American conscience until slavery was
extirpated; Henry Ward Beecher, whose eloquence across the seas quieted the
growlings of the British Lion all but ready to aid the South; these three
men, ere they fell asleep, saw fit to abandon the political party under
whose banner they had hitherto fought.

And now Dorlan Warthell felt called upon to do likewise. On the eve of the
severing of his tender relations, some angel voice has come to serenade his
soul and conjure up the hallowed past. Ah! 'tis painful when the path of
duty must be paved with one's heart strings. It is also sometimes strewn
with one's blood.




CHAPTER XI.

A STORMY INTERVIEW.


On a night shortly subsequent to the day on which the playing and singing
of Morlene had so greatly affected Dorlan, he had a visitor.

"How goes it, Dorl, old boy" said his visitor, slapping Dorlan on the
shoulder familiarly.

"I am doing well, I hope, Congressman Bloodworth. Accept a seat in my
humble quarters," Dorlan replied. Congressman Bloodworth dropped into a
chair, crossed his short legs and began stroking his red mustache.

Congressman Bloodworth was a white man, with an abnormally large head and a
frame somewhat corpulent. His complexion was sallow and his skin very
coarse. His eyes were large but exceedingly tame in appearance. He lifted
his hat from his head revealing an abundance of hair of a brilliantly red
hue.

Dorlan took a seat at some little distance from Congressman Bloodworth
anticipating that the interview was not to end pleasantly.

"Well, Dorlan, I have come for my answer," said Congressman Bloodworth in
his gross voice.

"Mr. Bloodworth, when we were last together I gave you to understand very
fully what to expect of me. Nothing has transpired since to cause me to
change and I am sure that I shall adhere to the course which I have chosen,
unto the end," said Dorlan, in a pleasant but most positive manner.

"Dorlan, have you a memory?" queried Congressman Bloodworth.

Dorlan nodded assent.

"Then bear me witness, sir." So saying he took from his pocket a
typewritten document, which he proceeded to read.

He began, "From the year 1619 until January 1, 1863, the <DW64> race was
subjected to slavery in the United States. The superior numbers, greater
intelligence and determined spirit of the enslavers prevented the enslaved
from cherishing any hope of setting themselves free. The great task of
redemption which the <DW64>s saw no way of accomplishing for themselves,
the Republican party accomplished for them at a cost of much treasure and
of hundreds of thousands of precious lives. This party enacted such laws as
made a recurrence of slavery absolutely impossible. It clothed the freedman
with the rights of a citizen. It extended to him the strong arm of the
Federal Government in the protection of those rights. The claim that these
facts establish over the allegiance of every <DW64>, I leave to the judgment
of any sane mind. So much for the relationship which by implication should
exist between _you_ and the political party named.

"I now advert to my own peculiar claims upon you. Your early years you
spent in school and received great mental development. You found employment
as a stable boy in the home of an eminent statesman. During your leisure
hours you perused his library and became thoroughly imbued with the spirit
of the statesman. Owing to your residence in the South, there was no outlet
for your powers, as the South was not permitting men with black faces to
aid in running the government. By accident we met, you and I. I discovered
that you had great talent. I was lacking in native ability. I decided that,
as you had the necessary brains and I the white face, we might form a
combination. You planned, I executed; you acquired information, I exhibited
it. By your secret aid I went to Congress. Through you I arose from the
ranks to a commanding place in the public eye. For the past few years my
speeches in and out of Congress have been regarded as so full of merit that
they have been used as highly acceptable campaign documents. These speeches
were composed by you. In return for your furnishing me brain I have paid
you every cent of money which I have received as compensation for public
service. Making use of my white face you have been able to allow full play
to your intellect, which delights in grappling with great questions.

"Dorlan Warthell, I come to you to-night with this carefully prepared
statement, that I may secure your final answer. Will you or will you not,
continue working through me and for the Republican party?"

Congressman Bloodworth folded the paper from which he had read and looked
steadily at Dorlan.

Dorlan replied, "Congressman Bloodworth, I am thoroughly convinced that the
Republican party is in error in the chief tenet of its present day creed.
My devotion to truth is far greater than my devotion to party. And, Mr.
Bloodworth, it was truth that set my people free. The Republican party
became the willing instrument of truth to effect that result. Now that the
result has been achieved, I must not confound the power with its
instrument. I worship at the shrine of truth, not at that of its temporary
agents. My spirit is free to choose its own allegiance, for no human
instrumentality has freed my spirit; its freedom came from God."

"Sir," spoke out Congressman Bloodworth, "You deny my and the Republican
party's authority over you, in spite of what we have done for you?"

"I assert that no event in the history of the world has yet happened that
makes it my duty to follow error," said Dorlan vehemently.

"You shall die the death of a dog," shouted Congressman Bloodworth in rage.

The two men had now risen and were glaring fiercely at each other.
Congressman Bloodworth looked as though it would please him to tear Dorlan
to shreds; but Dorlan's powerful, well constructed frame was too potent an
argument against such an attempt.

Congressman Bloodworth turned away and left the room. Murder was in his
heart and stamped its impress on every lineament of his face.




CHAPTER XII.

MORLENE AND DORLAN.


The day following the night of the stormy interview was Morlene's day to
give lessons at Dorlan's boarding place. The teaching over, Morlene
proceeded to amuse herself by playing on the piano. She was in a buoyant
mood and was disposing of first one and then another wild, dashing air.

Desirous of a diversion, Dorlan came down from his room and glided
stealthily into the parlor to listen unobserved to Morlene. Great was his
astonishment on discovering that the beautiful lady whom he had passed was
none other than the accomplished pianist and divine singer. For a few
moments he lived a divided existence, his eye surveying the beautiful form
of Morlene, while his ear was appropriating the rich harmonies which her
splendid touch was evoking from the keyboard.

With a merry laugh at her own frolicsomeness, Morlene struck the piano keys
a farewell blow and arose to go. Wheeling around she saw Dorlan. The light
died out of her face. A feeling of terror crept over her as the thought
occurred that fate, relentless fate, seemed determined to throw that
fascinating stranger in her pathway.

"Do not be angry with me for my intrusion," said Dorlan. "My soul is the
seat of a long continued storm these days, and your music was so
refreshing," he continued.

Dorlan's air of deference and his pleasing, well modulated voice caused
Morlene to at once recover her composure.

The note of sadness in Dorlan's voice caught Morlene's ear and her
sympathetic nature at once craved to know his troubles that she might, if
possible, dissipate them. She saw that Dorlan was depending upon her to
begin a conversation as an assurance that he had given no offense. Morlene
sat down in the seat nearest her.

"You speak of a storm," she said. "When you speak thus you arouse my
interest, for to my mind a storm is the most sublime occurrence in nature.
To see the winds aroused; to hear their mad rushing; to behold them as with
the multiplied strength of giants they grasp and overturn the strongest
works of man's hands--to see this, inspires one with awe and reverence for
the great force that pervades this universe, and impels us, whether we so
will or not, to conform to its ripening purposes.

"If there is a storm in your bosom, matters exterior to yourself have
produced it. As an admirer of storms I beg you to lay bare to me such
portions of the journeyings of the winds as a stranger may be permitted to
view."

"Do you believe in strangers?" asked Dorlan, "I hold that no human beings
are, at bottom, strangers to each other. With Emerson I hold that 'there is
one mind common to all individual men. Every man is an inlet to the same
and to all the same. Who hath access to this universal mind is a party to
all that is or can be done, for this is the only and sovereign agent.'

"Those souls are quickest to recognize this fact which are best equipped to
reveal themselves and to comprehend the revelations of other souls. We know
some souls at a glance as thoroughly as one soul ever knows another."

To these observations Morlene made no reply. Too well did she know that the
human being before her, was somehow, no stranger to her.

"Starting out with the assumption that you shall find nothing strange in me
when you fully understand me, I am ready to show you the pathway of the
storm," continued Dorlan.

"Thank you," said Morlene, smiling, and partially revealing a set of teeth
as beautiful as fair lady ever desired.

"A presidential election is fast approaching. I have heretofore labored
with the Republican party. In this campaign I part company with them," said
Dorlan.

"My dear sir," said Morlene, rising, the picture of excitement, "Are you a
Democrat?"

Dorlan smiled at the intensity of the feeling displayed in the tone of
voice used for the question. "Oh, no," said he, reassuringly. "In the
South, Democracy's chief tenets are white man's supremacy and exclusiveness
in governmental affairs. Not having a white skin, self-preservation would
prevent me from entering the folds of that party."

Morlene heaved a sigh of relief. She said, "I am glad to know that the
seeming hopelessness of our plight in the South has not caused you to seek
to influence us to surrender to this dictum of Southern Democracy. Proceed,
if you please."

"I am thoroughly displeased with the policy of the Republican party toward
the inhabitants of the Philippine Islands, and in spite of the endearing
relations of the past, I am moved to part company with the party on this
issue," remarked Dorlan.

"Oh, I am an enthusiastic expansionist, Mr.----."

"Warthell is my name," supplied Dorlan.

"Mr. Warthell," said Morlene, the glow of eloquence on her face, "I have a
dream. I dream that wars and revolutions shall one day cease. The
classification of mankind into groups called nations, affords a feeling of
estrangement which destroys or modifies the thought of universal
brotherhood, and gives rise to the needless bickerings which result in
wars. I delight in any movement that sweeps away these pseudo-national
boundaries. The more separate nations that are congealed under one head,
the less is the area where conflicts are probable. When the tendency to
consolidate finally merges all governments into one, wars shall cease. Our
territorial expansion is but the march of destiny toward the ultimate goal
of all things. I am delighted to see our nation thus move forward, because
we have such an elastic form of government, so responsive to the needs and
sentiments of the people that bloody revolutions become unnecessary
wherever our flag floats. Just think how much our expansion makes for
universal peace by erasing the thought of separateness existing between
peoples, and giving to the federated powers such an ideal form of
government.

"When our flag floats over the whole of the Western Hemisphere there will
be nobody over here to fight us; we shall not fight among ourselves and we
shall dare the European and Asiatic powers to go to war."

"You are indeed an expansionist," remarked Dorlan.

"Yes, yes," said Morlene, wrought up in the subject that was stirring the
American people.

"Some are expansionists for the sake of finding outlets for the
ever-increasing excess of our production. They hold that we are producing
far more than what we can consume, and must have outside buyers to avoid a
terrible congestion at home. Others are expansionists on the ground that
outlying possessions are a strategetical necessity in the time of war. Our
statesmen are expansionists, some of them, because our nation's becoming a
world power gives a broader scope for their intellects. Some are
expansionists because they desire to see weaker people have the benefits of
a higher civilization. While I admit the possible weight of these various
contentions, my interest in expansion is broadly humanitarian. England was
at one time a seething mass of warring tribes. The expansion of a central
power over the entire islands brought order out of chaos. Let the process
extend to the entire earth as fast as honorable opportunity presents
itself, and may the stars and stripes lead in the new evangel of universal
peace." Thus spoke Morlene.

"Beautiful, beautiful dream. But it is my fear that enthusiasm over
expansion may cause us to lose sight of fundamental tenets of our political
faith. This leads me to state the point of difference between myself and
the Republican party," said Dorlan.

The subject was one, as may be seen, of absorbing interest to Morlene, and
she leaned forward slightly, eager to catch each word that Dorlan might
utter. He began: "The Republican party has not informed the world as to
what will be the ultimate status of the Filipino. In the final adjustment
of things, whatever _that_ may be, will the Filipino be able to say that he
stands upon the same plane, politically and otherwise, with all other free
and equal human beings. I labored earnestly to have the Republican party to
declare that no violence would be done to our national conception that
every man is inherently the political equal of every other man. The party
has promised that full physical, civil and religious liberty shall be
guaranteed. On the question of political liberty there is silence. Because
of this silence I leave it."

"In what manner, Mr. Warthell, do you hope to affect the result in the
pending campaign?" enquired Morlene.

"The <DW64>s, you know, are vitally affected by the issues in this
campaign. With England imposing its will upon India, with the Southern
whites imposing their will on the <DW64>s, only one great branch of the
white race exists which is not imposing its will upon a feebler race. I
allude to the white people of the North.

"Should our nation impose its will upon the Filipinos, by the force of arms
and without the underlying purpose of ultimately granting to them full
political liberty, the weaker peoples the world over will lose their only
remaining advocate in the white race, namely the people of the North.

"I hope to be able to show the <DW64>s that they, of all citizens in this
country, cannot afford to permit either silence as to, or the abandonment
of, the doctrine of the inherent equality of all men. The <DW64>s of the
pivotal states, when, united, can easily decide the election in whatever
direction they choose. It is my purpose to attempt to weld together the
<DW64>s in the hope of defeating any man that will not unequivocally and
openly declare in favor of the ultimate political equality of the
Filipinos."

"Are you not leaning on a broken reed, Mr. Warthell?" asked Morlene in
earnest tones. "Have the <DW64>s acquired sufficient self-confidence to
feel justified in pitting their judgment against that of the Republican
party? Can the recent beneficiary be so soon transformed into a dictator?
More important still, can you uproot those tender memories which flourish
in the sentimental bosom of the <DW64>, associating, indissolubly his
freedom with the Republican party?" she asked.

Dorlan sighed deeply. He recalled how madly he had to fight against the
tender memories aroused by Morlene's singing when we saw him so deeply
stirred. He remembered how that on that occasion her playing and singing
had carried his mind back to those great days when the freedom of the
<DW64>s was in the balances. He knew what an effort it required on his
part to persuade his heart to allow him to strike a blow at that hitherto
hallowed name--Republican.

Dorlan not replying, Morlene resumed, "Mr. Warthell, in attempting to
disillusion the <DW64>s with regard to the Republican party you shall march
against one of the strongest attachments in all of human history. I have
known deaths to result from assailing attachments far less deep-seated than
that. May a special providence preserve you."

Morlene now arose to go, her beautiful face giving signs of the fear for
Dorlan's safety that had stolen into her heart.

Subsequent happenings showed how well grounded were her fears.




CHAPTER XIII.

A WHOLE CITY STIRRED.


The editor of one of the leading morning papers of R---- sat at his desk
one afternoon, knitting his brows as he read a document spread out before
him. Having finished reading it once, he began the second reading, wearing
on his face the same intent expression. Having concluded the second
reading, he laid the article down, rested his head on the back of his chair
and closed his eyes as if in deep meditation. After a few moments'
reflection he decided upon the third reading of the document. When he had
finished this last perusal, he went to the telephone and summoned Dorlan
Warthell to an immediate conference with him. Dorlan soon arrived and was
ushered into the editors's private office.

"Be seated," said the editor, in a most cordial manner. "Mr. Warthell,"
said he, "I have read your document the third time and I now desire to ask
you two questions. The character of your answers to them will determine
whether I shall propound to you a third." Looking earnestly into Dorlan's
face, he enquired, "Was it your desire and expectation that this article
should be published?"

"Most assuredly," said Dorlan, manifesting surprise that the editor should
deem it necessary to ask such a question.

"Again," said the editor, "are you well acquainted with the moods of your
people?"

"It is my impression that few men have studied them more earnestly than I
have," said Dorlan.

"I see that I must ask my third question. Thinking that your article would
be published, knowing your people, have you exercised foresight enough to
have your life insured? If you have not, fail not to do so to-night; for a
straw in a whirlwind will account itself blessed in comparison with your
lot after this article appears to-morrow morning," said the editor.

"I am content to abide by the consequences of my act," said Dorlan,
quietly.

"Your blood be upon your own head," said the editor. This brought the
interview to a close and Dorlan took his departure.

The next morning the following seemingly harmless article from the pen of
Dorlan Warthell appeared in the paper whose editor we saw pondering it. It
ran as follows:

"In the great crisis of the sixties, the Republican party appeared before
the sepulchre of the buried manhood of the <DW64> race, called it forth from
the tomb and divested it of the habiliments of the grave. This portentous
achievement shook the earth. The pillars of the Republic tottered but were
caught within the titantic grasp of the Republican party, which thereupon
made the foundations and superstructure more secure than ever before. As
long as the ocean mirrors in her bosom the face of the king of day, just so
long shall the hearts of the <DW64>s cherish the memories of the noble army
of men who wrought so nobly for humanity.

"To further the ends so righteously sought a party name was adopted and
party machinery created by them. When their tasks were done and they had,
for the most part, been gathered to their fathers, other leaders arose and
began to operate under this same name and with this same machinery. The
charge has often been made that we bestow upon these instruments of our
salvation the same devotion that we yielded to the creators and original
wielders of the instruments. It is said that we blindly follow the party
name regardless of those wielding it and the use to which it is put. The
charge may be illustrated by the following comparison:

"A noble man does a <DW36> a kindness. The man dies and a thrifty neighbor
comes into possession of the shoes, clothes and hat that he wore at the
time of helping the <DW36>. The neighbor puts on the leavings of the dead
man, appears before the <DW36> and demands his allegiance because of the
clothes worn. The <DW36> yields the devotion asked for, giving evidence
that he was ready to consider the dead man and the clothes as one and
inseparable. We are charged with acting like unto this <DW36>, in the
matter of rendering devotion to the party name and machinery, the clothes
left behind by the men who did the actual work of liberating us.

"In the past we have had no suitable opportunity to clear by an overt act
our skirts of the charge which has been exceedingly damaging to our
reputation for intelligence; for the policies of the party have been mainly
good. But unforeseen circumstances have brought us face to face with the
golden opportunity of proving that the picture is overdrawn, that we have
not riveted political chains upon ourselves, to take the place of the
actual chains torn from us at so fearful a cost. While adding to our own
good name we can also do the cause of humanity untold good.

"The Spanish-American war has brought us into contact with many million
Filipinos. We must decide what are to be our relations with them. Shall we
or shall we not deal with them on the principle that they are and shall
ever be regarded as our equals, is the burning question with the American
people. The party with which we have hitherto affiliated, claims to be so
busily engaged with our present duties on the Islands that they must
postpone consideration as to the final status of the people thereof. The
<DW64>s can favor only one solution of the problem, the recognition of the
fact that all men are created equal. They should favor no postponement of a
decision, having themselves suffered from a postponement that lasted from
midnight of July 4th, 1776, until January 1st, 1863, the time that elapsed
between the promulgation of the declaration that all men are created equal,
and the application of that declaration to the American slave.

"In view of the silence of the Republican party upon the question of the
ultimate status of the Filipinos, it has been decided to organize a party
that will spurn silence, that will insist that 'Old Glory' shall continue
to float over human beings that can look each other in the face and shout
'We are all equals; no man among us is, in any sense, less free than
another.'

"All American citizens willing to consecrate their political efforts to the
attainment of this end are invited to elect delegates to be present at
Sinclair Hall on the fifteenth of the incoming month. The <DW64>s having
been the chief sufferers from the non-recognition of the principles for
which our new party will stand, are expected to take the lead in the new
organization.

"Yours for humanity,

"DORLAN WARTHELL."

The manifest purpose of Dorlan to withdraw the <DW64> vote from the
Republicans with the view of forming a new party created a profound
sensation. It was discussed by white and <DW52> people, was the theme of
conversation in the street cars, hotel corridors, stores, barber shops,
saloons, brothels, and on every street corner.

There are in the South, men and women, white and , who are
endeavoring to meet every issue that arises upon the highest possible
plane. The sentiments of such people found expression in the following
editorial which accompanied Dorlan's pronunciamento. It ran as follows:

"A <DW64> has been found to display political independence and moral courage
of a high order. He has placed himself in a position where the unthinking
will liken him unto the serpent that buried its fangs in the bosom that
warmed it. None the less, his act is one of marked heroism. While not
endorsing his third party scheme (our party is good enough) we endorse the
spirit of initiative and independence that prompts it. We would that this
spirit of rebellion against party slavery characterized all the voters of
the Southland.

"It is an open secret that the great body of the people of both races in
the South are prone to regard elections as nothing more nor less than a
perennial struggle for supremacy between the two races. This one issue has
been allowed to dwarf all other considerations. Indeed, the South is deaf
to all appeals, however urgent, to give consideration to the grave
questions arising from time to time affecting the welfare of us all and
determining our destiny. Such a condition of isolation from the centers of
thought activity is deplorable in the extreme.

"Think of it: by birth a man comes into possession of a full set of
political opinions. He is born into a condition of intellectual serfdom;
the mind dares not to wander by a hair's breadth from the narrow estate of
thought on which it is born. He who elects to devote his attention to the
questions of State must reduce his mentality to the level of the parrot and
feel that his life's work will consist in learning to repeat glibly and
without alteration whatever party managers may promulgate. What a crime
against the human mind whose native air is freedom, to secure which
bonfires have been lighted with the thrones of kings!

"What the South needs is a new emancipation. Her giant minds must be
allowed to enter the arena of intellectual conflict unfettered, if they are
to bring back to the South her departed glory. The <DW64>s can help to
bring about this emancipation. When they cease to vote _en masse_; when
they cease going to the polls as a mark of gratitude to the invaders of the
South who now sleep their last sleep and would discountenance, if they
could, the perpetuation of race hatred over past issues; when the sentiment
within the <DW64> race is sufficiently liberal to allow each <DW64> his
manhood right to record with his vote his own best judgment; when, we say,
these desirable conditions obtain among the <DW64>s, we whites will have an
opportunity to escape the scourge with which the party magnates herd us
together even as gratitude has herded the <DW64>s.

"With joy we hail the advent of Dorlan Warthell in his new role. May he
succeed in inaugurating an era of independent thought among the <DW64>s.
Let us all hope that we are now beholding a streak of dawn, instead of the
trail of a falling star, whose soon fading light will leave our skies but
the darker. Let us hope that the hour is upon us when the sober torch of
reason and not the withering flames of passion, may guide all of our
voters, white and , to the polls."

There are many people in the South who never read, who never ponder grave
questions, but assume the right to wreak vengeance on the heads of those
who perchance wander from beaten paths in search of truth. In the above
editorial the more enlightened element had spoken; but the unthinking were
also to be heard from.

If Dorlan is depending upon his exalted patriotism, his broad love of
humanity, his eager, unselfish striving after the good of all--if, we say,
he is depending upon these things to shield him from the wrath of those
whom his act affronted, let him remember that virtue was no shield to Him
whose blood, in the days of yore, anointed the spear of a Roman soldier
upon a hillside on the outskirts of Jerusalem.




CHAPTER XIV.

BLOODWORTH AT WORK.


The Hon. Hezekiah T. Bloodworth had returned to his home from his interview
with Dorlan chagrined, dejected, sorely puzzled as to what to do next.

It was being declared on all sides that the day of isolation was over with
the United States, and that it was henceforth to be a world power. Instead
of simply directing the affairs of the nation, her statesmen would now be
called upon to assist in shaping the destinies of the peoples of the whole
earth.

Bloodworth had been cherishing the fond hope that he would be one of the
first of American statesmen that would leap into world prominence. His
bosom heaved as he thought of the day when his speeches would be read by
the inhabitants of all lands and his name would be a household word unto
the uttermost parts of the earth. He had unlimited faith in Dorlan's
ability and felt that Dorlan could rise equal to the emergency and furnish
him the brain power for his widened responsibilities. At the very moment
when he felt the need of Dorlan the keenest in all his life, Dorlan refuses
to be his mentor.

Bloodworth wept. His tears were not Alexandrian tears of regret that there
were no more worlds to conquer, but Bloodworthian tears shed because he
could neither borrow nor buy the brains necessary to conquer a world that
had come within his reach.

"Hezzy, dear, what on earth troubles you?" asked Mrs. Bloodworth of her
perturbed husband.

"My ancestors, confound them," roughly responded Bloodworth.

"He is going crazy," thought Mrs. Bloodworth. "How do your ancestors
trouble you, Hezzy?" further queried Mrs. Bloodworth.

"They have handed down to me no brains," roared Bloodworth.

"There, I thought it was brain trouble," thought Mrs. Bloodworth.

"Oh, dear, you have brains," said his wife.

"So has a rabbit. Let me alone, now."

This colloquy had taken place at the dinner table where Bloodworth was
voraciously devouring food, in an effort, it would appear, to be strong
abdominally if not intellectually. His grief over his plight had not yet
affected his appetite. When nearly through the meal a telegram was handed
him. It was from the Speakers' Bureau and read thus:

     "_Hon. Hezekiah T. Bloodworth_:

     "Your services are badly needed in the pivotal States.
     Campaign a flat failure without your lucid speeches.
     Delay no longer. Report at headquarters at once. The
     aftermath."

Bloodworth had been given the assurance of a Cabinet portfolio in case his
party succeeded. The words, "The aftermath," in the telegram were intended
to call attention to the fact that his preferment was contingent upon his
campaign labors. He arose from the table in such an abrupt manner that he
upset it, much to the horror of Mrs. Bloodworth.

"Do you wish to send a return message?" asked the messenger boy.

"Tell the Speakers' Bureau and the pivotal States to go to the habitation
of the accursed," exclaimed Bloodworth, trudging about the floor, holding
the open telegram in both hands as though it was a heavy load.

The messenger boy backed out of the room and hurried away, glad to get out
of the presence of the enraged Bloodworth.

"Confound it; I will not be ruined thus" said Bloodworth. Grasping his hat
he hurried out of his house to the market. He soon returned and, thrusting
a package down on a table in his kitchen, said, "Cook, feed me on fish at
every meal. Get the very best fish. Here are some good ones. Begin at
supper time. Fish is good for brain food, they say, and I need brains!"

Bloodworth dieted himself on fish for a few days and then began the
preparation of the speech with which he was to open his campaign tour in
the pivotal states. After great labor the speech was at last finished, and
Congressman Bloodworth invited a few intimate friends to hear him deliver
it to them in private.

"Friends," said he to the select audience, "of late my mind (meaning Dorlan
Warthell) has been a little erratic. It will not serve me as it once did. I
have called you here to ask you to tell me whether much of its vigor has
departed. If there is too great a gap between my past efforts and my
present one, I shall retire from public life. Remember, gentlemen, how much
depends on your decision, and be frank with me." Congressman Bloodworth
then began his speech. With great effort his hearers refrained from
laughter as they listened to what they thought was the most bunglesome
address that ever came from the lips of a public servant in a civilized
land.

"Mr. Bloodworth, for Heaven's sake, do not take the stump in this campaign.
You will be the butt of ridicule of the entire nation." Such was the
verdict rendered by one and acquiesced in by the others after listening to
the speech.

Bloodworth now completely collapsed. "Gentlemen," he said between his sobs,
"take me to my room. I am ill. I knew that a breakdown was due to a man who
has worked as hard for his country as I have. Take me to my room,
gentlemen."

Bloodworth was borne to his room and put to bed. He then dictated a
telegram to the Speakers' Bureau, informing them of his illness and
consequent inability to participate in the campaign.

The Hon. Hezekiah T. Bloodworth was removed to the city of R---- to a
private sanitarium in order, he said, that he might receive the best
medical attention. Each day he would lay abed feigning that he was sick.
The doctors were unable to tell what was troubling their patient, but were
quite content to have him remain with them, so handsomely were they being
paid. Bulletins as to the state of his health were sent over the country
daily.

Bloodworth succeeded in bribing his night nurses. With their collusion he
was able to escape from the sanitarium each night, returning just before
daybreak in the morning. These nights were spent by him in the lowest parts
of the city, in gambling dens patronized by the <DW64>s. He had become
aware of the great upheaval among the <DW64>s against Dorlan and he had
decided that the time was auspicious for the murder. His midnight orgies
enabled him to secure tools for his work.




CHAPTER XV.

HARRY BECOMES A TOOL.


The excitement among the <DW64>s was so very great that Dorlan decided that
something ought to be done to allay it, to the end that the convention
which he had called might find a more congenial atmosphere. He issued a
call for a public mass meeting, hoping at that meeting to put himself in a
better light before the people.

Congressman Bloodworth heard of this proposed mass meeting and chose it as
the occasion on which to put an end to Dorlan's life. In his rounds by
night he had heard how that Harry Dalton, a ward chairman of the Republican
party, was extremely bitter in his feelings toward Dorlan. One night he
called at Harry's residence. Morlene met him at the door and his
countenance fell. He had not expected to find such intelligence as
Morlene's face indicated in a home where dwelled a man as rancorous as
Harry had been represented to be. Morlene invited him in. When he saw Harry
his spirits rose. His first glance impressed him that Harry could be used
as a tool.

Morlene intuitively read sinister purposes in Bloodworth's face. He avoided
her searching gaze as much as possible.

"May I have a private interview with you?" asked Bloodworth of Harry.

"Certainly, certainly," said Harry, rising and leading the way to an
adjoining room, closing the door behind them. They took seats, Bloodworth
putting his chair near to Harry.

"I have come to see you on an important matter," said Bloodworth. "But
before I begin I have one question to ask you," he continued. Pausing, and
looking directly into Harry's eyes, he asked, "Are you a Republican?"

An angry flush passed over Harry's face. "You insult me, sir, to come into
my house to ask me if I am a Republican. I was born a Republican and will
die one."

"Don't talk so loud," said Bloodworth, glancing uneasily toward the door,
where he thought Morlene might be listening.

"Well, you must not insult me, sir. My color ought to tell you what I am."

"Yes, yes," said Bloodworth, in a sad tone. "There was a time when all
<DW52> men were true blue Republicans, but that day is past. A man right
here in your ward has gone astray."

"Don't you compare me with that infernal scoundrel, Dorlan Warthell. He
claims to be an educated man, and has deserted the Republican party. I
could tear his liver out and show it to him, that I could."

"I have come to talk to you about him."

"If you have got any good to say of him, it's no use for you to begin. But
if you can tell of any way to get rid of the scoundrel, I am with you."

"Let me tell you my history," said Bloodworth.

Bloodworth now assumed a piteous tone and began: "I am a Southern man.
Before the war my father was rich, but would never own a slave, though he
lived right in the South.

"When the war broke out, we turned our back on the South and joined the
Union Army. That is, my two brothers did. I stayed at home to care for my
aged parents.

"When the war was over, the <DW64>s needed leaders. I decided to lead them.
This made all of the Southern white people mad at me, and they called me a
scalawag. But I led them just the same, and held office so that the <DW64>s
could say that a Republican was in office. I wanted to go higher. I found a
<DW52> boy who was poor but brainy. I gave him all the money I made from
politics in return for his help to me. He worked along with me until he had
gotten thousands of dollars. Then he left me. He left me just when the
Republican party needed him most." Here Bloodworth managed to slip an onion
near his eyes and tears appeared.

Harry was deeply moved at this show of emotion. He groaned audibly over the
perfidy of the <DW64> who deserted so true a Republican.

"Yes, Harry," sobbed Bloodworth, "he deserted the party of Lincoln, the
party that made his people free, the party that made it possible for you
all to be what you are. He deserted me, his true and tried friend. He
deserted his own race. Dorlan Warthell is that man."

Harry was now moved to tears--tears of sympathy, tears of shame over the
nefarious deed of a <DW52> man, tears of rage.

"I am a Christian," said Harry. "I am a deacon of a church. But I swear by
high heaven that no such scoundrel shall be allowed to live! I shall kill
him!"

"Nobly spoken! Nobly spoken!" said Bloodworth, grasping Harry's hand
warmly. "I am proud that I--that is, that my brothers shed their blood to
give freedom to such noble men as you. I am not afraid for the future of
your race while such men as you are living."

Harry was grateful to the center of his heart for this tribute to his
worth. "May I ever prove worthy of your kind words," said Harry.

"I have no doubt of that. The man who takes Dorlan Warthell out of the way
will do enough good to make up for any shortcomings that he might have. I
have a well arranged plan for his murder and was only looking for a man
worthy of the role of principal actor. Lo, I have found him!"

Bloodworth now unfolded the details of his plot to Harry, and explained to
him the part that the latter was to take in the killing.

Morlene, who had listened at the keyhole, had heard in great agony the
plottings against the life of Dorlan Warthell. She had no qualms of
conscience about listening, for, having seen crime stamped on Bloodworth's
face, she had employed the usual method of entrapping criminals--spying.

Bloodworth and Harry were fully determined upon Dorlan's murder. Morlene
determined to save his life, even if in so doing she lost her own.




CHAPTER XVI.

A WOMAN AROUSED.


Morlene fully realized the gravity as well as the delicacy of the situation
that confronted her. A murder was being planned, the intended victim being
an innocent man and one for whom she entertained the greatest possible
respect; while the man chosen to strike the fatal blow was none other than
her own husband. Her first impulse was to confront Harry, but sober second
thought caused her to abandon this purpose, for she remembered that Harry
was headstrong; that he never abandoned anything that he had firmly
resolved upon doing. She saw that confronting Harry would only have the
effect of causing him to lay his plans the deeper and perhaps so far away
that she could not by any means intercept them.

Morlene began to consider the advisability of putting in motion a counter
current of sentiment in favor of granting the individual citizen the right
of independent action, hoping to create such a broad spirit of tolerance
that the party or parties who were to use Harry as a tool would be afraid
to carry out their programme of murder.

While Harry and Morlene were sitting at the breakfast table one morning,
she said to him, "Harry, I have come across a very good campaign book and
would like to act as agent for it during the next few days. Do you object?"

Without looking up Harry replied, "Of course, not," and continued in
meditation of what he regarded as Dorlan's traitorous crime. Every now and
then he would lay down his knife and fork and rest his hands on the table,
his eyes down-cast, so thoroughly was he aroused over Dorlan's presumption
in claiming the right to find fault with the Republican party.

When Harry had gone to his work, Morlene took her canvassing outfit and
began her labors. She chose with much deliberation the parties to whom she
went to sell the book. Her first task upon meeting the party was to set
forth the claims of the book. She never failed in effecting a sale, for the
parties accosted were willing to pay the price of the book for the
privilege of being brought into contact with a woman of such remarkable
beauty. They could hardly listen to her recital of the claims of the book
for stealing glances at her well shaped, queenly poised head, her pleading,
thrilling eyes, her beautiful face, her perfect form. They sought by
prolonging the conversation to detain her in their presence as long as
possible.

When through talking of her book, Morlene invariably brought up the
"Warthell movement" in order that she might discover the temper of the
people and find out just how much hope there was of arousing public
interest in the matter of securing Dorlan's immunity from attack because he
had essayed to pursue an independent course.

A very eminent lawyer, the real head of the Democratic party of the State,
expressed himself thus to Morlene:

"To be frank with you, Mrs. Dalton, the fact that the "Warthell movement"
might in the end break the solidarity of the <DW64> vote and cause a
fraction of that vote to eventually drift to us, has no charms for the
Democratic party. For several reasons we do not desire, at present, a
contingent of <DW64> voters. First of all, the coming of the <DW64> into our
ranks will cause our party to disintegrate, many men now being held in it
because they there escape contact with the <DW64>. In the second place, the
Anglo-Saxon habit of thought and the <DW64> habit of thought are so
essentially different that we prefer their separation."

"Please explain yourself," requested Morlene.

"Certainly," said the lawyer, not at all weary of the pleasure of looking
at and talking to the beauty. "Let me cite you to a Bible incident," he
resumed.

"When Peter, in preaching to the Jews, set forth that God had raised Jesus
Christ from the dead, and had bestowed upon Him greater power and glory
than He had before possessed, the assertion proved to be a befitting
climax to a sermon which resulted in the conversion of some three thousand
persons. Paul, in closing a sermon to the Greeks at Athens, alluded to this
same resurrection of the dead. Instead of proving to be the effective
climax that it was when Peter was preaching to the Jews, it operated as the
weakest point in the discourse, for we are told that at that point, 'some
mocked,' and the assemblage postponed the hearing. Paul in summing up the
difference between the Jew and the Greek habit of thought, remarked that
the Jews require a sign, and the Greeks seek after wisdom. You note that
the very thing that appealed most strongly to the mind of the Jew--the
miraculous raising of the Jesus--was the most repellant to the Greek, who,
in his search for wisdom, demanded to know the how of every assertion.

"Returning to the Anglo-Saxon and the <DW64>--I think I can name a number of
differences in their mental attitudes:

"1. The <DW64>'s talent is largely acquisitive; that of the Anglo-Saxon,
inquisitive.

"2. The <DW64> is of a restful temperament; the Anglo-Saxon is characterized
by a 'restless discontented, striving, burning energy.' As a result the
<DW64> is painfully conservative, while the Anglo-Saxon is daringly
progressive.

"3. The <DW64> deals with the immediate; the Anglo-Saxon has a keen eye for
the remote.

"4. The <DW64> is prone to accept statements that lay claim to being
postulates; the Anglo-Saxon is skeptical, examining into the foundation of
things.

"5. The <DW64> is impulsive, and is led to act largely by an immediately
exciting stimulus, causing the net results of his labors to appear as a
series of fits and jerks; the Anglo-Saxon is deliberate, cautious without
stagnation, wary and persistent, and his history reveals an unbroken
tendency in a given direction.

"6. Hitherto the preponderating tendency of the <DW64> has been toward
disintegration, showing the lack of a proper measure of fellow-feeling; the
tendency of the Anglo-Saxon is toward racial integration.

"7. The <DW64> proceeds by analogies; the Anglo-Saxon by logic.

"8. The Anglo-Saxon is fond of serious discussion and you reach him best
through the sublime; the <DW64> is inordinately fond of joking and you get
closest to him through the ludicrous. I do not pretend to say that these
are hard and fast lines, separating the Anglo-Saxon and <DW64> minds into
distinct classes, but they indicate a general unlikeness in many
particulars.

"Now, we Democrats know how to reach Anglo-Saxon minds and the process is
congenial to our general habit of thought. When we address <DW64>s, we
really have to readjust our faculties of approach. Public speakers find
that various sections of the same country present this difference, even
when all of the people are of the same race. How much greater must be the
chasm between two such widely diverging races."

Morlene exhibited no signs of abating interest, so the lawyer proceeded
further with his remarks.

"Two other reasons may be given why we prefer to be rid of the <DW64>," he
continued. "The mass of <DW64>s are poor, some of them very poor, and we
have men among us who would not scruple at perpetually bribing these poor
by little acts of kindness. A poverty stricken, oppressed, helpless people
are comparatively easy prey for the well to do element of an opposite race.
In national politics the <DW64>'s devotion to the Republican party exempts
him from the chicanery of designing whites who would debauch the suffrage.
We do not desire the ignorant <DW64> vote in municipal affairs for the same
reason that the nations of Europe oppose the dismemberment of Turkey. The
struggle for possession would be too fierce and demoralizing among the
parties desiring the furtherance of their interests. The other reason for
not wanting the <DW64> vote is that the respective traditions of the two
races are so essentially different.

"You see they (the <DW64>s) revere Lincoln, Sumner, Whittier, Lovejoy,
Harriet Beecher Stowe, Frederick Douglass, Grant, John Brown, etc. We have
no peculiar fondness for these characters. Jefferson Davis, R. E. Lee,
Stonewall Jackson, Pickett, Albert Sidney Johnson, etc., are the objects of
our love and enthusiasm. You see, it is quite natural that people having
such widely differing sentiments should in a measure live apart."

Morlene saw clearly that there was no hope of arousing in this man
enthusiasm over Dorlan's work of altering the existing status in matters
political. She now departed, the lines of sadness deepening on her face.
The lawyer followed her to the door, bade her a polite adieu and turned
away, somehow full of the thought that he had conversed with a superior
creature.

Morlene next went to the head of the Democratic "machine." He was the man
chosen to do the work of "counting out" the opposition if the occasion
seemed to require it. He readily purchased a book, and, when called upon,
expressed his opinion as to the "Warthell movement."

"To tell the truth, we do not want that fellow to succeed. We hold our
people in line by threatening them with the bludgeon of mass voting and
<DW64> domination. The white people let us machine fellows have our own way
and will scarcely fight us under any consideration for fear that in
destroying the evil that we may represent, they might fall upon another
that is worse, namely, "<DW65> rule," as they call it. Of course, then, we
machine fellows don't want any such times as that fellow is trying to
inaugurate."

Morlene found the white Republican machine equally antagonistic to Dorlan.
They feared that the abandonment of the Republican party by the great mass
of <DW64>s of the South would cause a great influx of Southern whites,
which would mean that the day of the small man was over; for many of the
white men who were giants among the <DW64>s, simply because of their white
faces and professed sympathy, would appear to be only pigmies when brought
into contact with the abler sections of the whites.

The <DW64> politicians of the smaller calibre that affiliated with the
machine viewed Dorlan's actions with contempt. Their interest in political
campaigns ended with ward meetings, county, district, State and national
conventions. Whatever profit a campaign was to bring to them personally,
they labored to secure while conventions were being held, for they knew
that they would be no more an important factor until the time arrived for
another series of conventions. Not seeing where Dorlan was to profit
personally by his course, they took him to be an enthusiastic crank of some
sort. "How much is there in it," was the shibboleth of their creed, learned
in the school of "peanut" politics where they operated.

Morlene found many intelligent white and <DW52> men who held views
directly opposite to those cited, but they almost invariably wound up by
saying, "But Warthell, it turns out, is ahead of his day. Conditions in the
South are such that good men of both races are better off out of politics."
They were averse to taking any active part in the matter, fearing that, in
view of the inflamed state of the public mind, other interests of theirs
might be jeopardized.

Finding that all hope of enlisting public sentiment in Dorlan's favor had
to be abandoned, Morlene, with a heavy burden on her heart, now turned in
the direction of police headquarters. The chief was out, but a subordinate
presented himself and desired to know her business.

"Sir," said she, "there is a plan on foot to assassinate Dorlan Warthell, a
highly respected <DW64> of this city."

An angry look came into the face of the policeman. Morlene felt encouraged
by this, hoping that she was at last in a place where Dorlan had a friend.
She now gave the officer the plans of the conspirators as she had overheard
them, taking pains to emphasize the fact that Harry, her husband, was but a
weakling in the hands of the chief conspirator, and that she desired that
he be wrested from his grasp.

The officer took a memorandum of what Morlene had said. When Morlene had
gotten some distance away she recollected something that she deemed it
advisable to tell. She retraced her steps to headquarters, and, as she drew
near the office door, heard Warthell's name called by the officer with whom
she had conferred. Her heart seemed to cease to beat as she heard this
officer say, "Yes, I hope they will kill the scoundrel. I believe in every
man being true to his race. I call a <DW64> who will work against the
Republicans lower than the dogs. I call a Southern white man who will work
against the Democrats as even lower still. Yes, I hope they will kill the
scoundrel. Let every man stay with his own race, by gosh."

Morlene turned away trembling in every fibre. When she had proceeded some
distance she turned, and pointing her finger in the direction of the
building from which she had just come, said, "Ah! justice, justice, whither
art thou fled? Red-handed murder now sits in thy temple and occupies thy
throne! How long wilst thou withhold thy presence from this beautiful, but
blighted Southland?" Passers by did not know what to make of this beautiful
woman standing with outstretched hand, a look of sorrow and lofty scorn
upon her face.




CHAPTER XVII.

CLANDESTINELY, YET IN HONOR.


Returning to her home, Morlene sent the following note to Dorlan:

     "MR. DORLAN WARTHELL:

     "DEAR SIR--I have come into possession of information
     that renders an interview with you imperative. For
     reasons that are entirely satisfactory to my
     conscience, I desire that the interview be private. I
     assure you that nothing but the most _desperate_
     circumstances could influence me to take this step.
     Upon the peril of your life meet me at the end of the
     Broad Street car line promptly at eight o'clock.

                          "THE ARDENT EXPANSIONIST."

A few minutes before the appointed hour, Dorlan was at the place
designated. A thickly-veiled lady stepped off of the eight o'clock car and
her shapeliness told Dorlan that it was Morlene. The two walked onward
together until they were at such a distance as not to encounter inquisitive
passers-by.

"Mr. Warthell," began Morlene, "my first task is to impart to you certain
information. There exists a conspiracy, the object of which is to effect
your murder at the mass meeting which you are to hold."

"Nothing that happens in the South any longer excites surprise in me," said
Dorlan, no trace of emotion in his voice. Not a muscle of his noble face
twitched at the news.

Morlene resumed: "I have further to say, that the state of the public mind
toward you is such as is calculated to encourage rather than to destroy
criminal intentions directed against you. Enlightened or unenlightened, the
forces in favor of the existing order of things regard you as a disturbing
factor in the body politic. Your position is peculiarly dangerous in that
the weaker minds will grow to regard your murder as a civic duty."

"No one can gainsay the elements of danger in the situation," said Dorlan.

"The police, I fear, will not furnish you the protection that you need,"
remarked Morlene.

"Perhaps not," responded Dorlan.

Morlene now threw back her veil and turned her anxious eyes full on Dorlan.
"Mr. Warthell," she said, "the cool manner in which you receive the
information which I give, indicates that you are not as regardful of your
life as might be the case."

Dorlan replied: "My life has no charms for me, _per se_. I am wedded to
certain purposes for which I have learned to live. I will gladly yield my
life for their furtherance at any time that result can be achieved. If the
ends for which I strive are found to be unattainable, life has no further
interest for me."

"Mr. Warthell, the world needs your services," said Morlene in earnest
tones.

"It may be that the world has a greater need for my death. I am enough of a
fatalist to believe that whatever the world needs it gets. Note how
opportune have been the great births and deaths of history," replied
Dorlan.

"Mr. Warthell, I have not come here to theorize on the comparative value of
life and death. I have come to save your life. Have you any relatives
living?"

"None," said Dorlan.

"Oh, that there was a mother or a sister to make the plea that I must
make!" said Morlene, sorrowfully. "Wait," she said, as though a new idea
had struck her. "Mr. Warthell, is there not somewhere in the world a noble
girl whose heart you have won and who has accepted you as the companion by
whose side she is to journey through life?"

"My life has not been altogether without love," said Dorlan, a trace of
emotion appearing in his voice. "But it was a boyish love. The little girl
fell asleep in her twelfth summer. Were she alive to-night there might be
something to chain me to life. As it is my personal life is barren of
inducements and I am free to offer myself upon the altar for the good of my
country."

Morlene dropped upon her knees; tears had made their appearance in her
eyes. With clasped hands and face upraised to his, she said: "Mr.
Warthell, I beg of you, spare your life. Spare me the horror of knowing
that you were foully murdered. You have no mother, no sister, no lover. I
am only a stranger to you. Argument fails me and I can only plead."

Dorlan turned away, unable to look into that sweet, sorrowful face and say
it nay. "It is best that I die," said Dorlan to himself. "If I lived I
could not escape falling in love with this divine being." To Morlene he
remarked, his head still averted, "Sweet is your voice and earnest your
pleadings. Think it not ungallant in me to say that the stern voice of duty
engrosses my ear and I obey its summons. If I die at my post of duty you
will be one to revere my memory."

Morlene arose and moved around so as to be face to face with Dorlan who was
seeking to avoid her gaze. "Answer one question for me, Mr. Warthell. Is
there anything connected with your life that causes you to think that death
would be a personal gain to you as well as a gain to your country? I do not
ask out of curiosity, you must know. It behooves me to know all the factors
to be reckoned with in my attempt to save your life."

"No personal considerations would induce me to _seek_ to destroy my life.
Let that information suffice," said Dorlan.

The very suppression manifest in Dorlan's reply and tone of voice revealed
to Morlene that the full answer to her query was "Yes." She now ceased her
pleading. She saw that the labor of saving Dorlan's life was more largely
upon her than she had at first supposed. She had even his indifference to
life to combat. Undaunted by this fresh complication she girded her spirit
for the conflict.

In silence the two went toward the place where Morlene was to board the car
to return to her home. When they arrived at the place of parting, Morlene
said, "Remember, I say, you shall not die." Dorlan looked at her, smiled
sadly, turned and walked away.




CHAPTER XVIII.

WHO WINS?


The night of the mass meeting came at last, and there was a tremendous
outpouring of the <DW64>s, recruited mainly from the ranks of the toiling
masses. Scattered here and there in the audience were a few of the educated
<DW64>s, drawn to the meeting to see how Dorlan was to fare in his attempt
to breast the current of <DW64> loyalty to the Republican party. The women
in the audience outnumbered the men, a fact not to be wondered at, when it
is known that the <DW64> women of the South are, perhaps, the most ardent
and unyielding Republicans in the whole length and breadth of the land.
Closely veiled, Morlene sat in the audience, the embodiment of anxiety. The
moment for the supreme contest between herself on the one hand and
Bloodworth and Harry on the other, for the life of Dorlan, was drawing
frightfully near.

At the appointed hour Dorlan entered the building from the rear door,
walked across the platform and took his seat. Somehow the world expects the
body of a man to give some indication of the soul within; wherefore all
pictures of Satan represent him as being ugly. Those who came to the
meeting hating Dorlan felt a more kindly feeling creeping into their
consciousness as they saw that heaven had thought kindly enough of him to
grant unto him the form of a prince, an intellectual brow, a truly handsome
face that wore a look of earnest, honest purpose.

As Dorlan scanned the audience his heart swelled with joy at its immense
proportions. Wrong though they sometimes were, Dorlan had the most profound
faith in the good intentions of the <DW64> masses. He held that the
intentions of no people on earth were better, and that the sole need of the
<DW64>s was proper light.

Dorlan's analysis of the situation was as follows: The feeling encountered
was largely a religious one. The <DW64>s believed unqualifiedly in the
direct interposition of God in the affairs of men. They believed in the
personality, activity and insidiousness of the Devil. They believed that
God had specifically created the Republican party to bring about their
emancipation. On the other hand they regarded the Democratic party as the
earthly abode of the devil, created specifically and solely for the purpose
of harassing them. Thus, whoever opposed the Republican party was sinning
against God; and whoever voted against that party was in league with the
devil.

Such were the views held by the less enlightened, Dorlan felt. In order to
meet the situation he had prepared a speech that traced from a human point
of view the development of the two parties. Once disabuse their minds of
the direct, specific heavenly origin of the Republican party, and the way
would be open to show, that as men made it, men could improve upon its
policies. So at the appointed hour he arose and began his speech. It
riveted the attention of his hearers, and they listened with eager ears to
Dorlan's recital of the workings of the forces and counter forces that
brought about their emancipation. Freedom had burst upon them so suddenly,
was so glorious a boon, that their simple minds readily concluded that it
dropped bodily, as it were, from the skies. They were now glad to gain a
clear understanding of that phenomenal happening. Their feelings of
resentment died away entirely, and they who came to jeer, frequently broke
forth into applause.

Dorlan closed his speech with a thrilling peroration, urging the <DW64>s to
gird themselves for the holy task of carrying to the uttermost parts of the
earth the doctrine of the inherent, inalienable equality of all men.

Morlene could scarcely repress tears of joy over the happy turn of events.
But her joy was to be short lived.

Bloodworth had employed a number of viciously inclined <DW64>s to put out
the lights, bar the doors and foment excitement. In the midst of the
disturbance Harry was to effect the murder of Dorlan. Bigoted Harry had not
been in the least affected, nor were his mercenary compatriots in any wise
moved, by Dorlan's utterances. When the speech was finished, at a given
signal the lights were extinguished and a tumult raised.

Harry had closely noted the position of Dorlan on the platform, and as soon
as the lights were out began to make his way toward him. As there was no
one on the platform but Dorlan, he did not fear making a mistake as to the
man he was to assault.

Morlene had employed a young man of strength and courage to sit by and keep
close watch on Harry to thwart any attempts he might make. As Harry made
his way with eager cat-like tread, he was followed by the young man
appointed to watch him. When near Dorlan, Harry drew his pistol but felt it
wrenched from his hand by some one of superior strength. Discovering that
he was followed, Harry turned and sought to mingle with the crowd in the
hope of eluding his pursuer. In this he was successful.

Morlene, thickly veiled, had been sitting in a corner of the auditorium
throughout the meeting. In a satchel she had brought along a small lighted
lantern. She knew the building well, and even in the midst of the hubbub
and excitement incident to the putting out of the lights, had made her way
to the platform whereon was Dorlan. Now handling her lantern so that it
guided her directly to Dorlan, without informing others of her movements,
she crept to his side. She found him seated, his head bent forward resting
on his hand. Even now his first thought was of the future of the race,
seeking to keep alive in his bosom to the moment of death, the hope that it
would rise in spite of the unthinking element that now sought his life.

Morlene whispered into his ear, "Mr. Warthell, do not die here. As a
friend, a sincere friend, I plead with you to live for all our sakes." The
presence of Morlene in such a dangerous situation thoroughly aroused
Dorlan. He sprang to his feet determined to live until she was out of
danger, at least. "Here is a lantern," said she, handing it to him.

"Keep close to me," said Dorlan to Morlene. To the throng he said:
"Gentlemen, vacate the aisle to the extreme right. Whoever obstructs that
pathway to the door, does so at the peril of his life. I have given fair
warning and hold you accountable for whatever results from your failure to
obey." His voice was so commanding and he spoke with such self-assurance,
that the movement to clear the aisle designated began at once; but the
words had scarcely escaped his lips when he was stabbed from the rear.
Turning upon his assailant, he felled him to the floor with a powerful
blow. Flashing the light across the face of the fallen man, Dorlan and
Morlene both saw that it was Harry.

"My duty is here," said Morlene, as she stooped and took Harry's head upon
her lap.

"Good-bye. I must go. I am wounded," said Dorlan to Morlene, as he started
for the door.

Morlene assured herself that Harry was not seriously hurt, and administered
restoratives which she had been thoughtful enough to bring along. She was
the while experiencing anxious thoughts as to the dangerousness of Dorlan's
wound. At the earliest possible moment Morlene left Harry, (who was now
reviving) and went to telephone for the ambulance. It came and, with the
aid of lanterns, following a trail of blood, they came upon Dorlan,
unconscious, the wondering stars peeping down upon his upturned face.

       *       *       *       *       *

Morlene reached home on that eventful night some time before Harry. After
his murderous assault on Dorlan, having recovered from the stunning effects
of the blow that had felled him, he had gone from saloon to saloon,
drinking and very hilarious over his night's work. At three o'clock in the
morning he reached his home in a half-drunken state. Morlene had been
anxiously awaiting his coming.

As Harry stepped into the room, one glance at Morlene's face had the effect
of somewhat sobering him. Her face, her eyes, her attitude and, when she
spoke, her voice, conveyed to the half-drunken Harry her feelings of utter
scorn and indignation. He dropped into a chair. His eyes were bleared, his
lips slightly ajar and his hands limp at his side, as he looked at the
wrathful Morlene.

"Harry Dalton," said she, "You are to all intents and purposes a villainous
murderer. I know of your nefarious plottings and I witnessed your cowardly
attempt to assassinate Mr. Warthell, a man, the latchet of whose shoes the
possessor of a heart like yours is unworthy to unloose. But your intended
victim shall not die, unless an evil genius presides over the affairs of
men. I have only waited here to tell you how I loathe your crime and that I
exhausted every known means to thwart you. Now I leave you!"

Morlene started toward the door through which Harry had just come and which
led into the hallway. Harry, who had taken a seat not far from the door,
arose as if to intercept her.

"Stand back from that door, Harry," said Morlene pulling a pistol from her
pocket and pointing it at him. Morlene had been careful to see that every
chamber of the pistol was empty, so that no actual physical harm would
result from the drawing of it.

Harry knew that Morlene, when a country girl, had learned to shoot well,
and her angry looks made him feel that her knowledge as to how to shoot
was supplemented with a determination to shoot if he disobeyed her. Lifting
his hands as if imploring her not to shoot, Harry recoiled and Morlene
glided out of the room, locking the door behind her.

For some time Harry stood in the floor bewildered by the sudden and most
unexpected turn of events. At length he aroused himself and succeeded in
breaking out of the room. It was too late, however, to find any trace of
Morlene. She had made good her escape.




CHAPTER XIX.

THE SCENE SHIFTS.


An aged <DW64> woman trudged along Newton Street in the city of Chicago. The
ponderous strokes of Father Time had at last bent her form forward, pushing
it toward the dust whence it came. She was aided in her shuffling gait by a
crooked and knotted walking stick, which she made use of with her left
hand. Her attire betokened extreme poverty and was evidently unequal to the
task of shielding her from the chilly winds, which sought with zeal every
unprotected spot, and whipped the tears from her eyes. In her right hand
she carried a small tin box, her bony fingers clasping it as tightly as
they could. A shawl was thrown over her head somewhat concealing her
features. Strange to say, a close inspection of the woman's face impressed
one that there was cheerfulness, even happiness, written thereon, despite
her forlorn condition. As she crept along she scanned the buildings
closely, evidently trying to locate some particular house.

A young woman standing in the doorway of the Lincoln Hospital, attired in
the garb of a sick nurse, saw the old woman drawing near. "The poor soul
must be suffering greatly," said the nurse, reaching for her pocketbook.
She had determined upon emptying its contents into the aged woman's hand as
the latter passed by.

Instead of passing, however, the woman stopped a short distance from the
nurse. Her frame shivering from cold, her eyes surveyed the entire front of
the building in the doorway of which stood the nurse. Seemingly satisfied
with the result of her inspection she drew nearer and said: "Leddy, please,
miss, is dis de Linktum horsepittul?"

"Yes, aunty, this is the Lincoln Hospital," the nurse replied.

The woman dropped her stick and the tin box and clapped her hands, saying,
"Thankee! Thankee Jesus! Thankee! Heah at las'! De ole' ship dun foun' er
harbur. Got er place ter cross ober Jordun." Looking at the nurse, she
said, "Chile, does yer know anyt'ing 'bout Jesus? Oh! he promis' me dis,
an' he's kep' his word." Fumbling in her pocket, she drew out a soiled and
crumpled piece of paper. This she handed to the nurse, who found that it
entitled the woman to admission into the hospital.

"Come with me," said the nurse in kindly tones.

Gathering up her stick and tin box, she did as she was bidden. The woman
was duly registered and assigned to the ward in which the nurse was an
attendant.

One afternoon, the nurse sat by the bedside of her new patient humming a
tune. The woman almost stopped breathing to listen. Sitting up in her bed,
she said to the nurse, "Leddy, ken you fin' a pair ub specks fitten' fur
one ob my age?"

"I will try, aunty," replied the nurse.

After a diligent search, the nurse succeeded in finding a pair, wondering
as she searched what possible use the woman could have for them. The woman
adjusted the spectacles to her eyes and bent her gaze on the nurse.

"Leddy, please sing dat chune ergin," she said.

The nurse did as requested. Before she had proceeded far with the singing,
the woman burst forth, "Laws 'a mussy! Ef it ain't Lenie!"

"Aunt Catherine!" exclaimed the nurse, springing to her feet and throwing
her arms around the woman's neck.

Aunt Catherine's bedimmed eyesight and impaired hearing had prevented her
from discovering before this that her nurse was none other than Morlene. On
the other hand, Aunt Catherine's changed appearance was what interfered
with Morlene's recognition of her when they first met. When the woman said
"Lenie," it was all that was needed, for it was an appellation used in
addressing Morlene by Aunt Catherine only.

After many exchanges of tender greetings, Morlene disentangled herself from
Aunt Catherine's loving embrace, saying, "Dear Aunt Catherine, do tell me
all about yourself since the day I left you to wait on--on--Harry. I
searched R---- from one end to the other, time and again, looking for you.
And here you are in Chicago! Tell me how you have fared?"

"Chile," said Aunt Catherine, "seein' you, Lenie, hez driv' erway all my
trubbuls. 'Pears ter me, I dun got young ergin an' am down Souf at de ole
home." After an interval Aunt Catherine proceeded to tell her experiences,
not, however, before she had taken the tin box from under her pillow. With
that clasped fondly, she began:

"W'en I retched de city arter leavin' de ole homestid, I 'gun ter hunt fur
wuck. I got er place ter cook fur er white fambly. De leddy dat hi'ed me
wuzunt rich. She wus jes a good liver. Her husban's bizness fell off an'
she had ter hire jes' one 'oman ter cook, an' wash, an' i'ne, an' scrub de
floors, an' keep house. I wuz de fus' ter try it, but I kudden' hole out,
chile. I jes' kudden'. Er sprightly gal tuck my place. Den I hed er hard
time, Lenie. Yer Aunt Catharine hed ter beg frum door ter door. I slep' on
bar' floors in shackly houses, dat wuz empty kase folks wouldn't rent 'um.
I went to de dumps an' scratched in de trash piles fur charcoals and scraps
ter burn ter keep me warm. I begged money ernuf ter cum ter Churcargo, an'
heah I is. Dey tole me dat Linktum wuz frum dis State an' I wuz in hopes ub
doin' bettah up heah. But, Lenie, 'pears ter me dat de po <DW54> aint got
much ub er show enywhurs. I hez found it hard Norf an' Souf."

"Well, henceforth, I shall take charge of you, and walk through life by
your side, my dear Aunt Catherine," said Morlene, feelingly.

The woman dropped the tin box, pulled her spectacles down a little and
looked over them at Morlene. "Ain't the doctah tole yer yit?" asked Aunt
Catherine, in evident surprise.

"Told me what, my dear?" enquired Morlene.

"Why, chile, I aint heah fur long. De doctahs sez I kaint git well. De
gospil train dun blowed. It is rollin' into de depot. Capting Jesus is de
cunducter. I hez my ticket ready." Aunt Catherine with her broken voice now
tried to sing the following lines, swinging to and fro as she sang:

    "De Gospil train am comin',
      I heah it jes' at han',
    I heah de car wheels movin',
      Er rumblin' through de lan'
    Git on bo'd, little chillun,
    Git on bo'd, little chillun,
    Git on bo'd, little chillun,
      Dare's room fur many mo'."

"Yes, Lenie, I'll soon be on bo'd," resumed Aunt Catherine. "De Yankees was
mighty anxious to set us poor darkeys free, but it ain't done me no good.
Fack ub de mattah, Lenie, freedum mebbe good fur you young uns who wuzunt
use ter de ole times. Fur your sakes I is glad its come. But I'se hed a
hard time. Enyhow, it is mos' ober now. Marse Maury is ded, an' Missus is
ded, an' a upstart is on de ole place, an' hez been driftin' 'bout frum
'pillar ter pos'.'" Aunt Catherine's mind now ran back to the good old past
and a joyful light came into her face. "Do yer see dis tin box?" she asked,
breaking her silence.

Morlene nodded affirmatively, not trusting herself to speak, so torn up
were her feelings over the account of faithful Aunt Catherine's sufferings.

"Lenie," said she, leaning toward Morlene, a most serious look upon her
face, "as yer value yer own soul, do wid dis tin box lack I'm gwine ter
tell yer." Aunt Catherine was now speaking in low and solemn tones. "W'en
yer wuz er gal, Lenie, did yer ebber heah dat our fust juty on jedgment day
would be to git up frum whar eber we wuz burrit and hunt fur de diff'runt
pieces ub our finger nails dat we hed cut off all through life?"

"Yes, Aunt Catherine," responded Morlene.

"Wal, dis box hez got all my finger nails dat I cut off since I wuz er gal.
Bury dis box at de foot ub Maury and Missus, Lenie. W'en jedgment day comes
I want ter git up wid dem. Ef my nails is burrit by dem, I'll have ter go
dare whar dey is. See? Yer know white folks ginilly ain't got heart-felt
'ligun like cullud folks. But Marse and Missus shuah got shuah 'nuf 'ligun.
I wants ter git up wid 'um an' stan' by 'um in jedgment, ter speak up fur
um, ef eny body wants ter go ergin' um jes' kase dey is white. See? Ef dey
doan b'long in hebun, den nobody doan." Here Aunt Catherine paused, the
talk having nearly exhausted her.

"But, Aunt Catherine," interposed Morlene, "when you do pass away, which I
hope will not be soon, let me bury your _whole body_ where you tell me to
put this tin box. Lemuel Dalton surely would not refuse to allow the
fulfillment of the solemn promise made to you by Uncle Maurice and his
wife."

"Chile, I hed ter sell dis ole body ter de doctah ter git mony ter lib on
while heah."

"Oh, Aunt Catherine!" exclaimed Morlene, holding up her hands in horror.

"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Aunt Catherine. "That aint so bad, Lenie," she said.
"I sole my soul ter Jesus long ergo, an' w'en he takes it, dese doctahs kin
do whut dey choose wid my pore ole body." Morlene now burst into tears.

Lovingly Aunt Catherine stroked Morlene's hair with her hand, saying:
"Bettah be laughin' fur joy, chile, fur er few more risin's an' settin's ub
de sun an' I'll be in glory." Unable to longer endure the contemplation of
Aunt Catherine's sufferings and approaching end, Morlene arose and fled to
her room.

A few days after the conversation herein recorded Aunt Catherine passed
peacefully away. The doctors that had purchased the body presented
themselves and laid claim thereto. Morlene told them the story of Aunt
Catherine's life of faithful service and subsequent sufferings, and begged
the boon of taking the body back to Tennessee for burial. Her request was
refused, however, the physicians deciding that they would not allow a
matter of sentiment to stand in the way of advancing the interests of
science. Taking the tin box, so solemnly committed to her charge, Morlene
turned her face toward Tennessee, journeying thither to fulfill the last
request of Aunt Catherine.

For some time Morlene had been pondering a proper course to be pursued
toward Harry for the future, and her approaching visit to R----accentuated
the matter. More and more she began to regard him as an unbalanced
enthusiast, whose errors, in view of his outlook, were not altogether
unnatural. Pity, deep pity, stole into her heart for poor Harry, and she
decided, as her train was speeding onward, to return to him in the hope of
widening his horizon and giving him a clearer view of what was required of
an American citizen. If she would be of service to Harry, her train must
move at a faster rate than that at which it is now traveling.




CHAPTER XX.

THE BYSTANDERS CHEER.


From his quest of Morlene, on the morning of her escape, Harry returned to
his home in a sullen mood. Morlene's lack of appreciation of his
disinterested patriotism which her course revealed to him, was a blow in
itself, apart from his loss of her as a wife. The fact that he had lost his
wife and had not slept any during the whole night did not, however, cause
him to remain away from his accustomed labor that day. Cooking his own
breakfast, he ate his solitary meal and went forth to his daily task.
Anxious to learn what view others took of the happening of the previous
night, he purchased a copy of a morning paper and read its comments
thereon. It was the same paper that had commented so favorably upon what it
termed the "Warthell Movement." Harry turned immediately to the editorial
columns and read far enough to see that his act was being condemned.
Thereupon he tore the paper into shreds, threw it to the ground and
trampled upon it.

"Sure sign that I did right to attack that scoundrel Warthell, if it has
made this old Democratic paper mad. Ha, ha, ha! Morlene thought I was doing
wrong. I wasn't though, anybody can see, for what would this old
Democratic paper be kicking about if what I did wasn't against it?" Thus
muttered Harry to himself as he went on to his work.

"We'll hear a different tune when the Northern Republican papers begin to
discuss our attempt to get rid of these <DW64> traitors who are plotting to
undo all that the North has done for us. I take my medicine from the North;
let the South go where it please. See? Any <DW64> that will stand up for the
South against the North is an infernal, ungrateful, good for nothing
rascal, and _ought_ to be killed. Tell him I said so." These last words,
addressed by Harry to himself, were accompanied with the shaking of a
clenched fist at an imaginary foe. The more he pondered his course, the
more he praised himself, and the more outrageous Morlene's desertion of him
seemed. Eagerly he awaited the coming of the Northern papers that he might
regard his vindication as complete.

Harry went about his daily task in a half cheerful, half moody frame of
mind, pondering what steps to take with reference to his wife, but arriving
at no definite conclusion.

After the lapse of a day or so the eagerly-looked-for Northern Republican
paper came. Harry smiled with satisfaction, saying to himself: "Now we
shall hear the thing talked about right."

The article was headed, "A Crime Against Freedom." Harry now thought that
the article was going to gibbet Dorlan Warthell for having committed a
crime against the freedom of the <DW64> by refusing to longer affiliate with
the party that gave him freedom. He re-read the caption, "A Crime Against
Freedom." "Yes, yes; only it ought to be 'An Unpardonable Crime,' for that
is what it was." Eager to feast on the invectives to be hurled at Dorlan,
he stood still on the street corner and began to read:

"The United States of America is a government ruled by the duly ascertained
will of a majority of its citizens. Each qualified citizen has the right of
casting one vote in support of whatever side of an issue that pleases him.
Each citizen has the further right to use all legitimate means in his power
to induce other citizens to cast their votes as he casts his.

"The right of advocacy is, if possible, more sacred than the right to vote,
for the votes of fellow citizens go well nigh the whole length in shaping a
man's environments. Since the votes of others are the majority influence in
determining a man's environments, it is manifestly unjust to deny him the
opportunity of influencing these votes. He who strikes at freedom of speech
strikes at the corner-stone of our republic, and, to our view, commits the
greatest crime that a citizen can commit against a government.

"It is well known that we are in full accord with the Republican party's
policy with reference to the Philippine Islands. While we are firmly of
the opinion that the party is right, we nevertheless strenuously insist
that those who hold contrary views be accorded the right to advocate those
views.

"Dorlan Warthell, a <DW64> in the South, has seen fit to publicly disapprove
of a portion of the party's policy, whereupon a <DW64> Republican zealot has
sought to take his life. The Republican party repudiates such vile methods
and the man who resorts to them.

"Mr. Warthell has as much right to express his views, whatever they may be,
as the President of the nation. The fact that he is a member of a race that
obtained its freedom through the instrumentality of the Republican party
does not alter the matter in the least. The Republican party has no
political slaves and desires none. It seeks to commend itself to the hearts
and consciences of men, and spurns every semblance of coercion.

"The miscreant who sought to kill Mr. Warthell, because that individual
dared to be a man, is unworthy of life. If the arms of justice are too
short to reach him, it is hardly to be hoped that he will have the good
sense to bring his own unprofitable existence to a close."

When Harry had finished he let the paper fall to the ground. He felt as
though the very skies had fallen down upon him. To find the great
Republican party lifting its voice in condemnation of his act was more
than he could bear. Stooping down, he picked up the paper and re-read the
closing paragraph.

"I can surprise them yet. They say 'It is hardly to be hoped that he will
have the good sense to bring his own unprofitable existence to a close.'
Aha! we shall see!" said Harry, a grim determination settling over his
gloomy soul.

Deserted by Morlene, repudiated by the Republican party, which he had
always regarded as the vicegerent of God, Harry decided to have his life
come to a close in some way. He began to give earnest thought to the
finding of the proper method of departure. In the matter of closing his
earthly career, he was hampered by his religious views. He was a firm
believer in Heaven and in a literal Hell. In common with many other
<DW64>s, he believed that the Bible contained a specific declaration to the
effect that all sins could be forgiven a man except the sin of self-murder.

To cause himself to die and yet escape Hell was the problem that now
occupied Harry's mind. From day to day he deliberated on the matter. At one
time he was attracted by the thought of laying down upon a railroad track
in some isolated spot in the hope that he would fall asleep and fail to
awake on the approach of a train. In case he did not awake, he thought that
his death could properly be construed as an accident. Then he thought of
becoming an attendant upon the sick, choosing such patients to serve as
were afflicted with dangerous contagious diseases.

Months and months passed, summer and fall sped by and made way for winter,
but Harry's purpose remained. The question of a way to die was at last
solved for him in a most unexpected manner. One afternoon as he was
returning from work, he saw far ahead of him, coming in his direction, a
pair of runaway horses hitched to a double seated carriage. As the carriage
came near he saw that the driver's seat was empty and that a white lady and
three children were seated in the carriage in imminent peril of their
lives. "Thank God!" Harry murmured, "the way appears." As the horses came
galloping down the street, Harry stationed himself in such a position that
he would be able to make an effort to intercept them.

"Get out of the way, you fool!" frantically shouted one after another of
the bystanders. "Those horses will kill you." To all of this Harry paid no
heed. Harry's sublime heroism stilled the shoutings of the multitude. The
people stood mute gazing at Harry, so unflinchingly awaiting the coming of
the runaways. When the horses came sweeping by, Harry leapt to the head of
the one nearest him and grappled the bridle. The maddened horses bore him
from his feet and onward, but Harry clung to the bridle. Unable to longer
carry so heavy a weight clinging to his mouth, the horse to which Harry was
holding checked his speed and brought his fellow to a stand. This result
was not achieved, however, without fatal injuries to Harry.

Turning the bridle loose Harry fell at the feet of the horses, others now
rushing forward to take charge of them. As Harry lay upon the ground
covered with dust and blood, a crowd of citizens gathered about him. The
lady whose life had been saved, the wife of a leading banker, got out of
the carriage, and, elbowing her way through the crowd, stooped down to wipe
the blood stains from Harry's face.

Harry who had been unconscious revived and smiled feebly in recognition of
the kindness. The crowd that had witnessed his heroic deed now gave a
mighty cheer, joyful that he was alive. Before the cheering subsided, the
light of life died out of Harry's eyes and his soul had sped.




CHAPTER XXI.

TO BEGIN LIFE ANEW, AS IT WERE.


When a few hours later Morlene arrived at her home in R----, she found
crepe on the door, and was told by a neighbor that was just leaving, that
Harry had died that day. She stood as if rooted to the spot, her beautiful
eyes recording the storm of pity that was rising in her bosom. Mechanically
she turned and placed one foot on the step to the porch, as if to leave.
"Horror! Horror! Horror everywhere!" she cried out. "But why am I fleeing?
It is abroad in the whole expanse of earth. If Harry _was_ to die, tell me,
tell me, why he could not have awaited to carry my forgiveness with him."
In that moment, looking back upon her whole career since the death of
Maurice Dalton, she felt her faith in the benevolent character of the
arbiter of human destinies rudely shaken. Her body recoiled in response to
a like impulse of her soul that shrank from the benumbing misanthropism
that sought to lay its cold dead fingers on her heart. In one last supreme
effort to retain her faith she burst forth into song. In tones angelic,
from a heaving bosom, she poured forth the following words:

    "Abide with me! Fast falls the eventide;
    The darkness deepens--Lord, with me abide!
    When other helpers fail, and comforts flee,
    Help of the helpless,--O abide with me!"

When Morlene began to sing her eyes glistened with tears; but these now
disappeared as a look of submission stole therein. Again humbly obedient to
the forces that were guiding her life, she entered her home, knelt and
gazed long at the features of Harry, her spirit seeking to unravel that
mystic smile that his face was wearing even in death.

       *       *       *       *       *

Two days later the business men of R---- swore, the housewives grew red in
the face, but it was all of no avail. The <DW64> laboring men and cooks were
determined upon going to Harry's funeral, even if it cost them their jobs.
So, business was partially paralyzed and the white women of fashionable
circles had to enter their own kitchens while the <DW64>s thronged to the
church wherein the funeral services were to be held.

Though the funeral was to take place at two o'clock, the edifice was
crowded at twelve, those anxious for seats rushing there thus early.
According to the custom of the church to which Harry belonged, his body had
lain therein all the night previous and his brethren and sisters of the
church had assembled and conducted a song and prayer service over his
remains. When the hour for the funeral arrived, the pulpit was full of
ministers of various denominations.

Harry had, according to the custom prevailing, chosen the hymns to be sung
at his funeral, the text from which the funeral sermon was to be preached,
the ministers who were to officiate--in fact, had arranged for every detail
of the occasion. Everything was done according to his wishes.

The services were at last brought to a close and the funeral procession was
formed. The hearse led the way being followed by the great concourse of the
members of the church, walking _en masse_ and chanting mournful dirges as
they proceeded. Following the throng came the carriage containing Morlene
and Stephen Dalton, Harry's father. The old man's form is now bent, his
short hair white and he is sad at heart that it is Harry's funeral and not
his own. Following this carriage containing Morlene and Stephen Dalton was
that of the banker, who with his wife and children had come to pay this
tribute of respect to the memory of Harry. When the procession reached the
cemetery, twilight had come to render the interment peculiarly solemn.

Harry was lowered to his last resting place and each one of his immediate
friends picked up a clod and cast it into the open grave, the good-bye
salutation for the dead. All staid until the grave was covered over, then
turned to leave.

The cemetery in which Harry had been laid to rest was upon an elevation.
When the carriage containing Morlene had proceeded homeward for some
distance and was at the point where the slowly declining elevation had
reached a level with the lower lands, she caused the driver to stop for a
few minutes while she and Stephen Dalton alighted. The two stood and looked
for awhile in silence toward the cemetery above them, the lighted lamps
burning dimly among the trees up there. One solitary star peered out of the
eastern sky. Its lonely light, like words spoken in the hour of grief,
evidently sought to cheer, but only served to make the feeling of sadness
deepen.

By and by in tones soft and low and earnest, Morlene broke the silence,
saying: "Father, Harry's body lies up yonder, and, behold, the place is
lighted. May we not hope that his spirit, in spite of his weaknesses, has
gone _upward_, and may we not also hope that there the spirit, too, has
light, more light than came to it in this darkened world?" Stephen Dalton
made no reply. The only thing that he now cared to answer was the final
summons. He regarded himself as an alien on earth. The two re-entered the
carriage and drove to the city.

The next day, Morlene repaired to the Dalton estate and buried at the
designated spot the box that Aunt Catherine had entrusted to her care. Thus
came to close one epoch in Morlene's life.




CHAPTER XXII.

EXCUSABLE RUDENESS.


We left Dorlan sorely wounded on the night of the mass meeting. Though he
was immediately furnished with the best available medical attention, it did
not prevent the setting in of a species of blood poisoning which rendered
his condition peculiarly precarious. As soon as it was deemed advisable, he
was carried North and placed under the care of an eminent specialist.

Dorlan began to slowly improve, but at such a rate that he now saw that he
was to be a mere onlooker to the presidential campaign in which he had
hoped to be the determining factor. On the day of the election his interest
was so great that he got out of bed and sat at his window, eagerly scanning
the faces of the voters as they went, and came from the polls, hoping, it
seemed, to tell from their countenances what verdicts they were rendering.
He had made arrangements with a newsboy to bring him a copy of the first
"Extra" to be issued giving information as to how the conflict had
terminated.

At a comparatively early hour of the night the newsboy knocked on Dorlan's
door. "Come in," called out Dorlan. The boy poked his head in the door,
cast a quick glance about, then entered. "Here's your paper, Mister. Good
news for _you_," said he, smiling as he handed the paper to Dorlan.

"How do you know that it contains news pleasing to me?" inquired Dorlan,
looking at the boy earnestly.

"'Cause you are a <DW52> man," responded the boy, with an air of complete
assurance. Having been paid, he now hurried out to proceed on his route.

"Even the children feel that they know the politics of every <DW64> by
glancing at his skin. Too bad! I suppose the boy means to say the
Republicans have won," mused Dorlan. He now looked at his paper and soon
was convinced that the Republicans had won an overwhelming victory.

Dorlan was stunned. "What!" he exclaimed, "Has a reaction against that
idealism which has hitherto been its chief glory really set in in the
Anglo-Saxon race? Has commercialism really throttled altruism? Has the era
of the recognition of the inherent rights of men come to a close? Has our
government lent its sanction to the code of international morals that
accords the strong the right to rule the weak, brushing aside by the force
of arms every claim of the weak? Alas! Alas!"

For many days Dorlan was very, very despondent. The _North_ had voted to
re-enthrone the Republican party without exacting of it a specific promise
as to the regard to be had to the claims of the Filipinos to inherent
equality. This amazed him. But as the political excitement subsided and he
could feel the pulse of the American people apart from the influence of
partizan zeal, he was the better able to analyze their verdict.

First, the failure to declare as to the ultimate status of the Filipinos
was in a measure due to the politicians whose uniform policy is to postpone
action on new problems until public sentiment has had time to crystallize.
They were not quite certain as to what was the full import of the new
national appetite and they were avoiding specific declarations until they
could find out.

Secondly, the people of the North were in no mood to be hurried as to their
policy with regard to the Filipinos. They had before them the example of
<DW64>s of the South even then calling upon the North to return and set
them free again. With this example of imperfect work before them the people
of the North refused to be wrought up into a great frenzy of excitement
over giving titular independence to the Filipinos.

Thirdly, Dorlan discovered that the election, instead of revealing a
decline in altruism, on the contrary, gave evidence of the broadening and
deepening of that spirit. He now saw in the verdict of the North the high
resolve to begin at the very foundation and actually lift the Filipinos to
such a plane that they would not only have freedom, but the power to
properly exercise and preserve the same. Instead of losing its position as
the teacher of nations, our government was, he saw, to confirm its title to
that proud position. So nobly, so thoroughly, was it to do its work of
leading the Filipinos into all the blessings of higher civilization, that
other nations in contact with weaker peoples might find here a guide for
their statesmen to follow. Thus he found written in the _hearts_ of the
noble people of the North the plank which provided adequately for the
ultimate status of the Filipinos, which plank he had earnestly longed to
see appear in the platforms of all political parties aspiring for the
control of the government.

His faith in the people did not, however, influence him to forget that
"eternal vigilance is the price of liberty." He was still of the opinion
that the nation needed a balance wheel, needed a free lance ready to bear
down upon all who, drunk with the wine of prosperity or maddened by greed
for gain, might seek to lure the American people from the faith of the
fathers.

Thus Dorlan, intending to begin anew his movement which we saw so
tragically interrupted, returned to R----, only to suffer a second
interruption in a manner now to be detailed.

One afternoon as Dorlan sat in his room in the city of R----, musing on the
task before him, his elbows on the table and his noble, handsome face
resting in his hands, rich music, as on a former occasion more than a year
ago, came floating up to him. The music revealed the touch and the voice of
Morlene. He had not seen nor heard from her since that eventful night on
which she labored so valiantly to save his life.

Dorlan arose and went down stairs with a view to renewing his acquaintance
with Morlene. He knew nothing whatever of Harry's death, which had
transpired in his absence. Dorlan entered the room where Morlene was
playing. She turned to receive the new comer whoever it might be. A joyful
exclamation escaped her lips when she perceived that it was Dorlan.

"Mr. Warthell, I am so very glad to see you alive and well. How often have
I subjected my actions to the closest scrutiny, disposed to accuse myself
of not doing all that might have been done to prevent that dastardly
assault upon you."

Dorlan was so entranced with Morlene's loveliness that he did not catch the
full purport of what she was saying. Morlene was clad in mourning and
Dorlan was drinking in the beauty of her loveliness in this new
combination.

When Morlene finished her sentence and it was incumbent upon Dorlan to
reply, he was momentarily embarrassed, not knowing what to say, having lost
what Morlene was saying by absorption in contemplating her great beauty. It
was tolerably clear to him that her remark was one of solicitous interest
in himself, and after a very brief pause he said:

"Excuse me for not desiring to give attention to myself, in view of the
fact that I am but now made aware by your mourning that some dear one has
passed away."

"You have not heard, then," said Morlene, a look of sadness creeping over
her face. She sat down on the piano stool whence she had arisen. "I have
lost my husband. He was killed in the act of stopping some runaway horses
more than a year ago."

Immediately there burst upon Dorlan's consciousness the thought that
Morlene was free and that he might aspire for her hand. So great a hope
thrust upon him so suddenly bewildered him by its very glory. Ordinarily
imperturbable, even in the face of unexpected situations, he was now
visibly agitated. He knew that he ought to frame words of condolence, but
the new hope, springing from the secret chambers of his heart where he had
long kept it in absolute bondage, clamored so loudly for a hearing that he
could not deploy enough of his wits to speak in keeping with the amenities
of the situation.

"Excuse me for a few moments, Mrs. Dalton," asked Dorlan, leaving the room.
He went up the stairs leading to his room, taking two steps at a bound.
Entering, he locked his door. Thrusting his hands into his pockets, he
gazed abstractedly at the floor for a moment, then up at the ceiling. The
word which as a boy he had used to denote great astonishment now came
unbidden to his lips.

"Gee-whillikens!" he exclaimed. "And that divine woman is free! Thought, I
wish you would sink into my consciousness at once," said Dorlan,
apostrophizing. A few moments succeeded in imparting to him an outward look
of calm. He then returned and expressed his feelings of condolence in words
that suggested themselves to him as being appropriate. He soon excused
himself from Morlene's presence with a view to rearranging his whole system
of thinking so as to be in keeping with the new conditions with which he
was thus unexpectedly confronted. "I have a little problem of desired
expansion on my own hands, and I fear the government will have to wag along
without me the best way it can for a while," said Dorlan to himself.

The ultimate status of Morlene Dalton was now of more importance to him
than the ultimate status of the Filipinos.




CHAPTER XXIII.

A STREET PARADE.


A band of <DW64> musicians playing a popular air, was passing through the
street on which Dorlan resided. He was in the act of going out of the gate
as the procession got opposite to him, and paused to allow it to pass.
There was a great concourse of <DW64> boys and girls, men and women,
following the band of musicians. Their clothes were unclean, ragged and
ill-fitting. Their faces and hands were soiled and seemed not to have been
washed for many a day. The motley throng seemed to be utterly oblivious of
its gruesome appearance, and all were walking along in boldness and with
good cheer.

"Now those <DW64>s are moulding sentiment against the entire race," thought
Dorlan, as his eye scanned the unsightly mass. "Be the requirement just or
unjust the polished <DW64> is told to return and bring his people with him,
before coming into possession of that to which his attainments would seem
to entitle him. It is my opinion that there must be developed within the
race a stronger altruistic tie before it can push forward at a proper gait.
The classes must love the masses, in spite of the bad name the race is
given by the indolent, the sloven and the criminal element." Taking another
survey of the throng he said, "Ah! the squalor and misery of my poor
voiceless race! What we see here is but a bird's-eye view. The heart grows
sick when it contemplates the plight of the <DW64>s of the cities."

Dorlan's eye now wandered from the people to the band. In the midst of the
musicians he saw a cart pulled by five dogs hitched abreast. In the cart
stood a man holding aloft a banner which bore a peculiar inscription.

Dorlan read the inscription on the banner and looked puzzled. Coming out of
his gate he kept pace with the procession, never withdrawing his eye from
the banner. He read it the second, third, fourth and fifth times. At length
he called out, "Hold! here am I." The occupant of the cart leapt up and
gazed wildly over the throng, endeavoring to see the person that had
spoken.

"Here," said Dorlan. The man looked at Dorlan, jumped from his cart and
rushed through the crowd and ran to Dorlan's side. Taking a knife from his
pocket he quickly made a slit in Dorlan's clothes just over the muscular
part of his left arm. The purposes of the man were so evidently amicable
that Dorlan interposed no objection. The man seemed to be satisfied with
what he saw. He now threw himself at Dorlan's feet and uttered loud
exclamations of joy. Arising he turned to pay and dismiss the band.

The throng by this time was thoroughly excited over the curious antics of
the stranger, and had clustered around Dorlan wondering what it was that
had caused such an abrupt cessation of the open air concert which they were
enjoying. The stranger now locked his arm in that of Dorlan and the two
returned to Dorlan's home. The crowd followed and stood for a long time at
Dorlan's gate hoping that the two would return and afford an explanation.
As this did not happen, they at length dispersed.

When Dorlan and the stranger entered the former's room and were seated,
they looked at each other in silence, Dorlan awaiting to be addressed and
the stranger seeking to further assure himself that he was not mistaken. He
arose and again looked at the markings on Dorlan's arm. He now spoke some
words in a strange tongue. Dorlan readily replied in the same language.

The stranger now felt safe in beginning his narrative. Said he, in English,
"My name is Ulbah Kumi. I hail from Africa. I am one of an army of
commissioners sent out by our kingdom into all parts of the world where
<DW64>s have been held in modern times as slaves. We are hunting for the
descendants of a lost prince. This prince was the oldest son of our
reigning king, and was taken captive in a battle fought with a rival
kingdom. He was sold into slavery. The royal family had a motto and a
family mark. You recognized the motto on the banner; you have the royal
mark. You also look to be a prince. Tell me your family history and I will
make to you further disclosures."

Dorlan now told of his father and his grandfather. His grandfather had
always claimed to be the heir to an African throne, had imbued his,
Dorlan's father, with that thought. The father had taught the same to
Dorlan. A certain formula, said to be known to no others on earth, was
cherished in their family.

"Now! Now!" said Kumi when Dorlan recited that fact. "That formula is no
doubt a key that will unfold the hiding place of treasures that will make
you the richest man in the world. Here is an inventory of what is to be
found in that hiding place."

Dorlan took the reputed inventory. The enormous value of the items cited
staggered his imagination. "This is incredulous," said Dorlan. "How could
Africans, unlearned in the values of civilized nations, know how to store
away these things."

"Easily explained," said Kumi. "A white explorer spent years in our kingdom
collecting these things. We deemed them worthless, gave them to him readily
and called him fool. He took sick in our country and saw that he was going
to die. He called your great grandfather, our king, to his bedside, told
him that civilization would make its way into Africa one day, and urged him
at all hazards to preserve and secrete the treasures that he had collected.
Our king was led to believe that these treasures would make him one of the
greatest rulers of earth, and he obeyed the dying man's injunction. The
white man left this inventory and a document giving the location of his
European home, the names and family history of his kin, asking that our
king remember them in the day of his affluence.

"Our king gave the formula that leads to the hiding place to your
grandfather, your grandfather told it to your father, your father has, I
see, no doubt, told it to you.

"As a further proof that I speak the truth I hand you now a few specimen
stones that were reserved to prevent this affair from being classed as a
myth." He now took from a pocket a box of costly stones and handed them to
Dorlan.

"How these things would grace Morlene," thought Dorlan, as his eye passed
from one sparkling jewel to another.

It now occurred to Dorlan that the acceptance of this fortune might entail
upon him a sacrifice of which he was incapable. It might involve his
leaving this country, a step that he could not even contemplate in view of
the fact that Morlene was now free. The looming of this contingency before
his mind caused him to drop the jewels as though they had suddenly become
hot. Kumi looked up at him in great astonishment.

Dorlan's face now wore a pained expression. He had always been profoundly
interested in Africa and was congratulating himself on the opportunity now
offered to convert the proffered kingdom into an enlightened republic. It
now seemed that his own interests and those of his ancestral home were
about to clash. He cannot endure the thought of putting an ocean between
Morlene and himself. Nor can he with equanimity think of allowing Africa to
remain in her existing condition.

"When am I expected to go to Africa?" enquired Dorlan in serious tones.

"You may not have to come at all, and yet serve our purpose."

"How so?" asked Dorlan, arising and drawing near to Kumi.

The latter began: "We Africans are engaged in a sociological investigation
of many questions. We are seeking to know definitely what part the climate,
the surface, the flora and the fauna have played in keeping us in
civilization's back yard. Huxley thinks that our woolly hair and black
skins came to us only after our race took up its abode in Africa. He holds
that it was nature's contribution to render us immune from the yellow fever
germs so abundant in swampy regions.

"He thinks that those of our race who did not take on a dark hue and woolly
texture of hair were the less adapted to life in the tropics and eventually
died out, leaving those that were better adjusted to survive.

"He thinks that these beneficial modifications were preserved and
transmitted with increasing strength from generation to generation until
our hue and our hair or the physical attributes for which they stand
rendered us immune from yellow fever. I may add that Livingstone says of
us, 'Heat alone does not produce blackness of skin, but heat with moisture
seems to insure the deepest hue.'

"Now, nature, in thus protecting us against yellow fever, by changing our
color from the original, whatever it was, has painted upon us a sign that
causes some races to think that there is a greater difference between us
and them than there really is. So much for our color and the ills that it
has entailed."

Dorlan interrupted Kumi to remark very feelingly:

"I am truly glad that you are not inoculated with that utterly nonsensical
view to be met with in this country, which represents that the <DW64>'s
color is the result of a curse pronounced by Noah upon his recovery from a
drunken stupor. Please proceed."

Kumi resumed his remarks. "Mr. Herbert Spencer holds that our comparative
lack of energy is due to heat and _moisture_. He states that 'the earliest
recorded civilization grew up in a hot and dry region--Egypt; and in hot
and dry regions also arose the Babylonian, Assyrian and Phoenician
civilizations.' He points out that all 'the conquering races of the world
have hailed from within or from the borders of the hot and dry region
marked on the rain map 'rainless districts,' and extending across North
Africa, Arabia, Persia, and on through Thibet into Mongolia.'

"He, therefore, would ascribe our backwardness principally to a woful lack
of energy, a condition brought on by our hot and moist climate.

"When our investigation of these questions is complete," continued Kumi,
"we will know just what has brought us where we are and can determine
whether artificial appliances sufficient to counteract existing influences
can be discovered and instituted.

"Mr. Benjamin Kidd seems to think that the tropics can never develop the
highest type of civilization. In the event that the government of the
tropics is to be conducted from the temperate zones, we tropical people
will desire <DW64>s to remain in the temperate zones, to advocate such
policies and form such alliances as shall be for our highest good.

"So, it may turn out to be the best for you, our king, to remain here, for
our welfare, owing to our peculiar environments, depends, just now, as
much upon what others think of us as upon what we ourselves may do. The
question of your going to Africa is not, therefore, a pressing one, yet."

"That leaves me somewhat free to deal with a question that _is_ pressing,
and pressing hard," said Dorlan, clasping Kumi's hand in joy, now that the
way was clear for him to serve without conflict his own heart and the home
of his fathers.

Kumi looked at Dorlan puzzled as to what question it was that was pressing
for a settlement. Dorlan did not enlighten him on the subject, however.

But we know, do we not, dear reader?




CHAPTER XXIV.

GOING FORTH TO UNFETTER.


Morlene was yet wearing mourning for Harry, and, as a consequence, Dorlan
was forced to delay the inauguration of his suit. If you think that this
procedure, or rather non-procedure, was to his liking, but ask the stars
unto whom his heart so often entrusted its secrets; ask the wee small hours
of the night who saw him restless, times without number.

Somehow his business seemed to require him to pass Morlene's house rather
often; and yet the business could not have been so very urgent, in that he
found so much time to spare, talking to Morlene in an informal way at her
gate. And, to go further, if the truth must out, Morlene's presence at that
gate at Dorlan's time of passing did happen, we must admit, rather often to
be placed in the category with usual _accidental_ occurrences.

Now and then, at rare intervals, Dorlan would pay Morlene a call on some
matter of business, he would say. On those occasions it was interesting to
note how quickly the business matter was disposed of--in fact, was so often
actually forgotten by Dorlan and, it must be confessed, by Morlene, too.

The truth of the matter is, to be plain, these two individuals had
discovered that their souls were congenial spirits, each seeming to need
the other, if it would have a sense of completeness. Now, this was the
latent Dorlan and the latent Morlene, the apparent Dorlan and the apparent
Morlene co-operating with society in its policy of adding to the duration
of the marriage vow, which reads until death, but which has been stretched
by society to an indefinite period thereafter. This discovery of a bond of
affinity, we say, was purely the work of the latent Dorlan and the latent
Morlene, for were not those two members of society abstaining from all
mention of the regard, the deep regard, the boundless----excuse us, the
period of mourning has not passed.

One day Dorlan discovered by consulting his memorandum that about the usual
time between those business (?) propositions had elapsed and he searched
his mind for a plausible excuse for making a call.

When Dorlan arrived at Morlene's home that night, imagine his feelings when
he saw on entering the parlor that she had at last laid aside her mourning
attire. The thought that she was now approachable set his soul ablaze.

What Dorlan took to be the most wicked of all demons, seemed to say to him,
"Don't declare yourself on this the very first occasion. Those gate talks
and business visits are not supposed to have been acts of courtship,
remember."

"Will you please leave me?" whispered Dorlan's soul to the imaginary
grinning demon that made the suggestion.

Utterly repudiating all thought of further delay, Dorlan drew close to
Morlene. She saw the love signals in Dorlan's eyes. Rather than have her
soul flash back replies, she inclined her head forward and looking down,
clutched the table near which she stood.

"Morlene," said Dorlan, "I really believe that my heart will burst if I do
not let out its secret. Morlene, I love you. But you know that and you know
how well. You have read this and more, too, in my countenance. Will you be
my wife?"

Those words spoken into Morlene's ear at close range were elixir unto her
soul. Looking up into Dorlan's face, her eyes told of love, deep,
boundless. This Dorlan saw. But he saw more than love. He saw despair
written so legibly upon that sweet face that it could not be misunderstood
and would not be ignored.

"Come," said Dorlan, leading Morlene to a seat. Sitting down by her side
and taking one of her lovely hands in his, he said in tones charged with
deepest emotion:

"Tell me, dear girl, that you will be my wife. May I, poor worm of the
dust, be allowed to call you my own?" plead Dorlan, bestowing on Morlene
that peculiar look born of love stirred to its depths by anxiety.

"I do not know, Mr. Warthell, I do not know. It----"

"Do not know," gasped Dorlan, dropping the hand tenderly. "My God! she does
not know!" he groaned.

"Wait but a second, and all will be plain," said Morlene, placing a hand
upon Dorlan's arm and looking eagerly into his grief-torn face.

"Wait a second," repeated Dorlan mechanically. "A second in moments like
these seems akin to an eternity. But I wait."

"Now, Mr. Warthell, be fair to yourself," said Morlene, soothingly. "You
remarked that I must have read some things in your countenance. Remember
your soul has an eyesight, and you have done some reading, too." Her eyes
were averted, her tones low, her speech halting as she made this
half-confession to Dorlan's eager ears.

Dorlan, who had been feeling more like an arctic explorer than a suitor for
a lady's hand, felt his blood running warmer from the effects of this
morsel of cheer.

"I will explain to you what it is that I do not know, Mr. Warthell. I do
not know how long it will be before conditions in the South will warrant
women of my way of thinking in becoming wives of men of your mould."

"If," said Dorlan, rising, "consideration of this matter is to be postponed
until my environments enable me to prove myself worthy of you, my doom is
certain. For the most benign influences of earth have not produced the man
that could claim your hand on the ground of merit."

"Mr. Warthell, you misapprehend. A second thought would have told you not
to place a construction on my remarks that causes them to savor of egotism
on my part. It is far from me to suggest that anything is needed to make
you worthy of any woman. To the contrary, your esteem is a tribute than
which there is nothing higher, so I feel. Now, hear me calmly," said
Morlene.

"Not until I have purged myself of contempt," said Dorlan, deferentially.

"I hold that egotism is inordinate self-esteem, esteem carried beyond what
is deserved. Under this definition, show me, please, how you could manifest
egotism. It is absolutely unthinkable from my point of view."

Morlene waved her hand deprecatingly, told Dorlan to be seated and began an
explanation of the peculiar situation in which they found themselves.
Dorlan was calmer now; he realized an undercurrent of love in all that
Morlene was saying and he knew, as all men know, that love will eventually
assert itself. So he bore Morlene's attempt to tie cords about her
affections, much in the spirit of one who might see a web woven across the
sky for the feet of the sun.

Morlene said: "Mr. Warthell, to my mind it is the function of the wife to
idealize the aims of a husband, to quicken the energies that would flag, to
be at once the incentive and perennial inspiration of his noble
achievements, to point him to the stars and steady his hand as he carves
his name upon the skies. In the South the <DW64> wife is robbed of this holy
task. We are being taught in certain high quarters that self-repression is
the <DW64>'s chiefest virtue. Our bodies are free--they no longer wear the
chains, but our spirits are yet in fetters. I have firmly resolved, Mr.
Warthell, to accept no place by a husband's side until I can say to his
spirit, 'Go forth to fill the earth with goodness and glory.'"

Morlene paused for an instant.

"Mr. Warthell, in you may slumber the genius of a Pericles, but a wife in
the South dare not urge upon you to become a town constable or a justice of
the peace. Talk about slavery! Ah! the chains that fetter the body are but
as ropes of down when compared to those that fetter the mind, the spirit of
man. And think ye I would enter your home simply to inspire that great soul
of yours to restlessness and fruitless tuggings at its chains! In the day
when a <DW64> has a man's chance in the race of life, I will let my heart
say to you, Mr. Warthell, all that it wishes to say."

Morlene ceased speaking and the two sat long in silence. Dorlan was the
first to speak.

"Morlene, I confess I am a slave. My neighbors, my white fellow citizens,
have formed a pen, have drawn a zigzag line about me and told me that I
must not step across on pain of death. Having a mind as other men, such
arbitrary restrictions are galling. I am then a slave, limited not by my
capacity to feel and do, but by the color of my skin. You do not wish to
marry a slave; refuse him for his own good. All of that is clear to me, and
I chide you not. Come! There are lands where a man's color places no
restrictions on his aspirations for what is high and useful. Let us flee
thither!"

"No, no, no, Mr. Warthell! Let us not flee. At least, not yet. Our dignity
as a people demands that the manhood rights of the race be recognized on
every foot of soil on which the sun sees fit to cast his rays."

"Now, Morlene," said Dorlan, "you as good as tell me that you will never be
my wife. Pray, tell me, why am I so rudely tossed about upon the bosom of
life's heaving ocean?" These words were spoken in tones of utter despair.

"I have not said that I would not be your wife, Dorlan. I am trying every
day I live to devise a solution for our Southern problem."

"She called me Dorlan, she called me Dorlan," said he to himself, rejoicing
inwardly over this fresh burst of sunshine just as his gloom was deepening.
Suddenly his face showed the illumination of a great hope.

"Morlene! Morlene!" cried Dorlan, in a rush of enthusiasm, "Suppose I,
Dorlan Warthell, solve this problem; suppose I unfetter the mind of the
<DW64> and allow it full scope for operation; suppose I offer to you a
thoroughly substantial hope of racial regeneration, will you----" Here
Dorlan paused and looked lovingly into the sweet face upturned to his. "If
I do these things," he resumed in sober tone, "will you be my wife?"

"Mr. Warthell, if you can open the way for me to really be your wife, there
is nothing in my heart that bids me shrink from the love you offer."

Dorlan's mind entertained one great burst of hope, then fled at once to the
great race problem that had hung pall-like over the heads of the American
people for so many generations, and now stood between himself and Morlene.
A sense of the enormity of the task that he had undertaken now overwhelmed
him. Dorlan bowed his head, the following thoughts coursing through his
agitated mind: "I am to weld two heterogeneous elements into a homogeneous
entity. I am to make a successful blend of two races that differ so widely
as do the whites and the <DW64>s. Each race has manifested its racial
instincts, and has shown us all, that wise planning must take account of
these. The problem is inherently a difficult one and of a highly complex
nature. But with an incentive such as I have, surely it can be solved.
Thomas Jefferson and Abraham Lincoln said the problem was incapable of
solution, that the two races could not live together on terms of equality.
They were great and wise, but not infallible. With Morlene as a prize, I
shall prove them wrong." Morlene, taking advantage of his abstraction,
bestowed on him an unreserved look of pitying love.

Dorlan looked up suddenly from his reverie, and their eyes met once more.
There was no reserve now and Dorlan's joy was so keen that it seemed to
pain him. Arising to go, he said: "I go from you consecrating my whole
power to the task before me. Fortunate it is, indeed, for the South that
she has at least one man so surrounded that he cannot be happy himself
until he makes this wilderness of woe blossom as a rose. Farewell."

Dorlan now left and walked slowly toward his home. He reflected, "I will
have no business at her home now until this problem is solved. Suppose I do
not solve it."

Dorlan's fears began to assert themselves. "I may never, never see that
face again. Think of it!" he said. This thought was too much for Dorlan. He
paused, leaned upon the fence, thrust his hat back from his fevered brow.
He turned and retraced his steps to Morlene's home. She met him at the door
and was not surprised at his return. Her heart was craving for just another
sight of its exiled lord. Re-entering the parlor, they stood facing each
other.

"Morlene," said Dorlan, "I have come to ask a boon of you. I can labor so
much better with a full assurance of your love. From your eyes, from your
words, I say humbly, I have come to feel that you have honored me with that
love. But the testimony is incomplete. Will you grant unto me the one
remaining assurance? Will you seal our most holy compact with a kiss?"

Morlene's lips parted not, but she attempted an answer, nevertheless. Her
queenlike head was shaking negatively, saying, "Please do not require
that." But those telltale eyes were saying, "Why, young man the whole
matter rests with you." Morlene was conscious that her eyes were
contradicting the negative answer that her head was giving. To punish the
two beautiful traitors she turned them away from Dorlan and made them look
at the carpet. Morlene in this attitude was so exquisitely beautiful that
Dorlan was powerless to resist the impulse that made him take her into his
arms.

One rapturous kiss, and Dorlan was gone!




CHAPTER XXV.

TONY MARSHALL.


Tony Marshall was one of the <DW64>s of the younger class who had left the
country district and had come to R---- as a result of the imbroglio between
Lemuel Dalton and Harry Dalton. He had come to the city with the untried
innocence of country life, sober, industrious and frugal, acceptable as a
wholesome infusion into <DW64> life in the city, which, so far as the masses
were concerned, stood sadly in need thereof. Without much difficulty he had
secured work as a porter in a hardware store. After a few years' sojourn in
the city, he had fallen in love and married.

Among the <DW64>s of R---- Mrs. Tony Marshall was variously designated as
"a good looking woman," "a fine looking woman," and among the older ones as
"a likely gal;" and she richly deserved these encomiums passed on her
personal appearance. She was not a small woman, nor yet could you call her
large. Her form, while not delicately chiseled, presented an appearance
that seemed to be a satisfactory compromise between beauty and strength,
each struggling to be noted in this one form. Her face was well featured,
her hazle  eyes making it very attractive. As to complexion, she
was dark, quite dark, and of a hue so soft and attractive therewith that
her complexion made her an object of envy.

Tony Marshall adored his wife, and it was his one ambition to see her
happy. Everything that he did was with a view to her comfort and happiness.
On the meagre wages which he received he had not been able to provide for
her as he had desired.

Noticing that young white men who had entered the employ of the hardware
company after his coming and knew no more of the requirements of the
business than he did--noticing that these had several times been promoted,
Tony Marshall made an application for an increase in his wages. The head of
the firm looked at him in astonishment. It was an unwritten and inexorable
rule in that and in many other establishments that the wages of <DW64>
employes were to remain the same forever, however efficient the labor and
however long the term of service.

Failing of promotion where he was, and noting that the rate of one dollar
per day prevailed almost universally, Tony Marshall saw no relief in
changing employment, and decided to increase his own wages at his
employers' expense. He made a comparison between the salary which he was
receiving and that being received by the white employees who did work
similar in character to his. He began, therefore, to purloin the wares of
the company and dispose of them at various pawn shops. As a "sop" to his
conscience he stole only so much as sufficed to bring his wages to the
level of others who did work like his. His thefts were the more easily
committed because he had won the unlimited confidence of his employers.

Tony has just rented a more commodious house for the pleasure of his wife,
and as his rent is to be increased, he is pondering how to further increase
his income. On this particular morning when our story finds him, he is
debating this question as he walks to his work. At last he concluded to
steal that day a very fine pistol from the stock under his care, which
theft he hoped would net him such a nice sum that he could suspend
pilfering for a while. When he returned home that evening he carried the
pistol with him, and hid it under the front doorstep, it being his rule to
not allow his wife to know anything of his misdoings; for he could not bear
the thought of forfeiting her respect.

"I am going to my lodge meeting now; I may not return until very late,"
said Tony that night, as he kissed his wife good-bye. Instead of going to
the lodge meeting, however, Tony Marshall went to the section of the city
where were congregated practically all of the vicious <DW64>s of R----.
Entering a house, the front room of which was the abode of an aged couple,
he passed to the rear through a hall way. Giving the proper rap at a door,
he was admitted. He was now in a long room well crowded with <DW64> men and
many women, who sat at tables engaged in various kinds of gaming.

The occupants of the room gazed up at the newcomer, quickly, enquiringly,
but seeing that it was the well known Tony, their attention returned to the
matters before them. The flapping of cards, the rolling of dice, outbursts
of profanity, the clinking of glasses as liquor drinking progressed, were
the sounds that filled the room.

Tony found room at a dice table and was soon deeply engaged in the game. At
a late hour the accustomed rap was heard at the door and it was opened.
Great was the consternation of all when the newcomers were discovered to be
a half dozen policemen.

The inmates of the gambling house saw at once that some frequenter of the
place had proven traitor and furnished the officers with information. They
were all placed under arrest and formed into a line to be marched to the
city jail. The <DW64>s had submitted with such good grace that the officers
felt able to dispense with the patrol wagon, the jail being near.

Tony Marshall's thoughts were of his wife, Lula. She was of a highly
respectable family and her mortification would be boundless should she know
of his arrest in the gambling den and hear of his being in the chain gang
working out his fine on the public highways.

Tony Marshall decided to escape at the risk of his life. The gambling
fraternity had a code of signals that could give the cue to the proper
course to be pursued under any given circumstances. The leader of the gang
now gave three coughs, which meant, "Raise a row among yourselves." The
idea was to get up a fight among the prisoners and while the officers were
attempting to quell the fight, as many as could were to make their escape.
It was the rule that all who made their escape were to employ lawyers and
raise money to help out those left behind.

A group began quarreling among themselves, and a fight soon followed. The
officers interposed to quell the disturbance and prisoners broke and ran in
all directions. The officers found that they had a larger number than they
could well manage under the circumstances, and they gave their attention to
corralling a few, letting the others escape in the hope of tracing them out
and re-arresting them on the morrow.

Among those that escaped was Tony Marshall. Running by his home, he secured
the stolen pistol from beneath the doorstep, got his bicycle from the
woodhouse and was soon speeding out of the city. He chose the road that led
to the settlement whence he had come to the city. It was his intention
from that point to write to his wife, telling her that he had received a
most urgent call to see his aged mother who was represented to him to be
dying.

Throughout the night Tony rode at a rapid rate, putting many miles between
himself and the city. About daybreak, as he was speeding along on his
bicycle, he glanced up into a tree and saw therein a squirrel. "Good luck!"
said he, "there is my breakfast." Jumping from his bicycle, he got on the
side of the road opposite to the tree that held the squirrel. Elevating his
pistol, he took aim and was upon the eve of pulling the trigger when he
heard the clatter of the hoofs of a horse galloping in his direction. He
dropped the pistol to his side and peered around the bend of the road to
catch sight of the newcomer on the scene. For a few minutes only we leave
him standing thus that we may fully acquaint you with the newcomer, that
the horror of the meeting between the two may not come as too great a shock
to you.

"But how is the waiting, struggling, hoping Dorlan concerned in all of
this?" the reader asks. That, too, in due time will be apparent.




CHAPTER XXVI.

A MORNING RIDE.


We are at the Dalton house once more. It is the night on which we followed
Tony Marshall to the gambling den, which we saw raided by the officers of
the law. Under the window of Lemuel Dalton's bed room a dog had stationed
himself, and throughout the night uttered long, loud and piteous howls.

Lemuel Dalton professed to be above superstition and detested that in the
<DW64>s more than he did anything else, perhaps. While professing to the
contrary, he was in reality superstitious to a marked degree, even against
his own better sense. This semi-consciousness of the presence of a latent
superstition in the crevices of his inner-self, no doubt served to
intensify his antipathies against a people who had thus in spite of himself
injected superstition into him; for he blamed the <DW64>s for the
prevalence of superstition in the Southern States. So the howling of this
homeless dog bothered Lemuel, although he sought to assure himself, over
and over again, that it did not. He had arisen more than once and fired his
pistol out of the window in order to stop the noise of the dog. The dog
would quiet down for a brief period and then resume his canine
lamentations. The howling of the dog, coupled with its persistence,
produced in Lemuel Dalton a state of mind bordering on terror. The <DW64>s
held that the howling of a dog beneath a window was a sure sign that an
inmate of the house was soon to die.

Arising very early the next morning, Lemuel Dalton entered his library and
took a seat. He wheeled his chair until it faced the east window and,
tilting back in it, mechanically twirled his mustache, a look of deep
meditation coming over his face. "Confound the people who first brought the
<DW64>s to this country," he said. He was worried that he could not shake
off the superstition as to death following the howling of a dog.

In the midst of his broodings Lemuel Dalton's pretty little wife (for he is
married now) came dashing into the room attired in a riding habit. Lemuel
Dalton wheeled around to meet her and her quick eye caught the cloud that
was just vanishing from his face.

"Lemuel, my dear, what on earth are you allowing to trouble you?" she said,
shaking her riding whip at him, playfully, while her eyes were shining with
the love that she cherished for him.

"I may tell you when you return from your morning ride," he said, opening
his arms to receive his wife.

"You naughty lad," she cried, looking into his eyes with mock earnestness.
"When did you ever hear of a woman consenting to wait a moment to obtain a
secret? Tell me _now_ on pain of being doomed to bear this burden, my
humble self, in your arms for ever."

"The very penalty that you affix as a menace is an inducement for me to
disobey. I resist the temptation, however, and tell you the subject of my
thoughts. I was thinking of the <DW64>s."

A shiver ran over the frame of Mrs. Dalton and the cheerful smile died out
of her face. "Lemuel, will you people of the South ever be rid of this
eternal nightmare?" queried Mrs. Dalton, looking up into Lemuel's face.

Lemuel tenderly stroked her beautiful hair, but did not essay to answer her
question. The fact of the matter was, he regarded the <DW64> problem as
growing graver and more complicated as time wore on. The strenuous efforts
of the <DW64> to rise and the decrease of the distance between the two races
he viewed with alarm. He did not care to communicate his real feelings to
his wife, so he said nothing.

Mrs. Dalton's nature was of a light and volatile kind and she thought of
the <DW64>s only for an instant. Wresting herself out of her husband's
arms, she skipped out of the room. She immediately reappeared at the door
of the library and threw a kiss at Lemuel in girlish fashion and was soon
mounted and riding out to get the benefit of the brisk morning air. As she
saunters along, we may learn a few points in her history that bear upon
the case unto which events are leading. She was born and reared in a
section of the State of Maine where no <DW64>s whatever live. It was here
that Lemuel Dalton found, wooed, and wedded her. She had read from time to
time of the crimes of brutal <DW64>s and the summary punishments
administered to them, and she had rather imperceptibly grown to regard the
prevailing race type of the <DW64>s as being criminal. This opinion was not
an unnatural outgrowth of the newspaper habit of giving unlimited space and
flaming headlines to the vicious <DW64>, the exotic, while the many millions
who day by day went uncomplainingly to their daily tasks and wrought
worthily for the country's welfare, received but scant attention.

The opinion that this state of affairs caused Mrs. Dalton to imbibe, was
the further fostered by the atmosphere of the Dalton house, which was so
thoroughly hostile to the <DW64>. The whole of the Dalton place was now
manned by white help, and <DW64>s would not so much as go there on errands
of business. It was from such a home and under the conditions outlined that
Mrs. Dalton went forth for her morning ride.

It was the noise of Mrs. Dalton's horse that caused Tony Marshall to pause
in his attempt to kill the squirrel.




CHAPTER XXVII.

THEY FEAR EACH OTHER.


As Tony peered around the bend in the road, Mrs. Dalton caught sight of him
and uttered a piercing scream. Tony knew the horse to be that of Lemuel
Dalton and he perceived at once that the situation was full of danger for
him, as the unintentional frightening of white women in the South had
furnished more than one victim for the mob. Knowing so well the feelings of
Lemuel Dalton toward <DW64>s, he reasoned that if the white woman who had
become frightened at him, returned to the house and reported that she had
come upon a <DW64> with a drawn pistol, public opinion among the whites
would at once adjudge him guilty of harboring a purpose of committing a
dastardly crime against woman's honor. He knew that a strong suspicion to
this effect meant instant and violent death to the party suspected. He was
determined to see to it that the woman did not leave him in a disturbed
frame of mind. Rushing forward, he grasped the horse's bridle. This all the
more frightened and excited Mrs. Dalton.

"Lady," said Tony, fear in every lineament of his face; "Lady," he
repeated, in anxious tones, "don't be afraid. I am not going to harm you."

Mrs. Dalton instinctively looked down at the pistol, which seemed to be a
contradiction to his words.

Seeing the look and interpreting it, Tony said, "There, I have thrown it
away," accompanying his words with the casting of the pistol by the
roadside.

Mrs. Dalton yet said nothing, her eye following the pistol. She noted that
Tony had not thrown it very far away.

Tony, who was studying her countenance with a full knowledge of the fact
that his life depended upon the outcome of the interview, read her
impression that the casting aside of the pistol was but a ruse. "Lady,"
said Tony, "I have caught hold of your horse to keep you from going away
from me frightened, for the white people will kill me on a mere suspicion
of wrong intention on my part. I am harmless. I used to live out here."

This last remark increased Mrs. Dalton's agitation. She had heard of Harry
Dalton, knew nothing of his death and feared that this was he, returning
for vengeance.

"I got into trouble in the city and am running away. That's how I am out
here so early."

"Oh, he is a criminal," said Mrs. Dalton, excitedly.

Tony saw that talking did not better his case, so he stopped. He bowed his
head to meditate.

Mrs. Dalton thought that he was planning an attack, and her agitation was
increasing every second.

"Plague on it!" said Tony. "I am in a pretty fix. I'll swear I wish those
'cops' had me safe in prison. I have swapped the witch for the devil."

Addressing Mrs. Dalton he said: "Well, lady, I'll let you go and take my
chances."

As soon as Tony turned loose the bridle Mrs. Dalton gave whip to her horse,
intending to flee as fast as the speed of the animal would permit. Tony saw
that his action in turning the horse loose had not inspired confidence in
the woman and that she was leaving him fully impressed that his purposes
were evil. He now decided to take advantage of every circumstance that he
could to save his life.

Seizing his pistol, he ran forward and fired, intending to kill the horse
and thus have a better chance to escape before the woman could reach her
home and start others in pursuit. At his second shot the horse reared and
Mrs. Dalton fell off to the ground. The horse also fell, a part of his huge
frame falling upon and crushing her prostrate form.

When Tony Marshall saw what he had done, he turned to flee. Proceeding a
short distance, he halted. "I must go back to find out whether the woman is
dead," he said. He therefore turned and walked in a timorous manner toward
the fallen woman. "Some one may have heard the shot and may be hurrying
here," he thought, and halted again, casting furtive glances first up and
then down the road. "What, oh, what have I done to be in such a fix!" he
exclaimed in terror.

Continuing to look about him fearfully, Tony approached the spot where the
horse and the woman lay. By dint of hard labor, he succeeded in removing
that portion of the horse that lay upon her. He was overjoyed to find from
her pulse that she was still alive. "What must I do next," he said. He sat
down to meditate. "I haven't yet murdered anybody and I shall not let this
woman die if I can help it," he said with determination.

Tony arose and, going to Mrs. Dalton, lifted her in his arms and proceeded
in the direction of her home. After many pauses by the wayside for rest, he
at last reached the Dalton estate. Through the window of his library,
Lemuel Dalton saw his wife being brought home to him in an apparently
lifeless condition. At once Morlene's prophecy came back to him. Raising
the window and leaping out, he rushed to meet Tony and gathered his wife in
his arms.

"Eulalie! Eulalie! Oh! Eulalie!" he cried. "Speak to me, beloved."

"Lemuel," she murmured, as she looked at him out of half opened eyes.

"Thank God! Oh! Thank God, she lives," he exclaimed, bearing his wife
rapidly yet tenderly to her bedroom.

The family physician was summoned and he hastened to the bedside with all
possible speed. Only a slight examination, however, was needed to disclose
the fact that human skill would be of no avail.




CHAPTER XXVIII.

"O DEATH, WHERE IS THY STING?"


Dorlan had just drawn down the curtains to the windows of his room, thus
bringing to a close the contest that the artificial light of the room was
waging with the fading twilight, the last feeble protest of the sun, for
that day deposed. He was standing before his desk which was strewn with
books, pamphlets and newspaper clippings, bearing on the subject engaging
his attention, when suddenly his door was thrust open.

Quickly turning to learn who his unceremonious visitor was, Dorlan saw the
Hon. Hezekiah T. Bloodworth standing in the doorway pointing a pistol
toward him. The pistol hand swayed to and fro, signifying the unsteadiness
of a drunken man, while Bloodworth's bloated face and reddened eyes
emphasized the fact of his debauchery.

"Oh--hic--yes--hic--I've got--hic-hic-hic you--hic.
I'll--hic--kill--hic--hic--you--hic," stammered Bloodworth, attempting to
impart force enough to his unsteady fingers to pull the trigger of the
pistol.

Dorlan started in the direction of the drunken man intending to disarm him.
Just then some one implanted a blow upon the base of Bloodworth's skull,
which sent that gentleman to the floor in a sprawling attitude. The pistol
which was in Bloodworth's hand exploded upon striking the floor, but no
serious damage resulted.

A tall, somewhat slender white man had delivered the blow. This stranger
now forced Bloodworth to rise and accompany him down the stairs. Bloodworth
whined after the manner of a child, as he staggered along. The stranger
hailed a passing policeman and handed Bloodworth over to him. He then
returned to Dorlan's room. As he entered, Dorlan was struck with the look
of sorrow so legibly written in the face of the man. Such utter woe Dorlan
had never before seen depicted in a human countenance. The man, though
invited to sit down, declined to do so.

Looking Dorlan in the face, the stranger said, "My name is Lemuel Dalton. I
perceive that you glean from my countenance that fate has hurled its
harpoon into my soul." Lemuel Dalton's frame shook as a tempest of emotions
swept through him. "My wife," he continued, "the most beautiful, the most
angelic, the most beloved woman of earth, has been needlessly slain."

Dorlan was listening with absorbing interest and evident sympathy.

"Circumstances killed my wife, sir. Circumstances--cold, cruel,
circumstances." Lemuel Dalton paused as though desiring to give his words
ample opportunity to convey their awful message. "It was on this wise," he
resumed. "She met a <DW64> who was fleeing from justice. She had heard so
much of late of the crimes of <DW64>s against white women that she was
terribly frightened by the mere fact of seeing this <DW64>. The <DW64> was
frightened over the consequences likely to ensue as a result of her fright.
He sought to reassure her. She mistrusted him the more. To keep her from
reaching me in time to institute a successful pursuit, the <DW64> killed the
horse that she was riding. The horse in falling caught my wife partially
under his huge frame. She was fatally injured."

Lemuel Dalton now turned away from Dorlan to hide the tears that had
gathered in his eyes. "She died," said he, in broken tones. "On her dying
bed she begged me to not prosecute the <DW64> on the charge of murder. In
her last moments she said to me, 'Lemuel, good bye. Save other homes from a
like fate. Dispel this atmosphere of suspicion in which I have been stifled
unto my death.' I have obeyed her request with regard to the <DW64>. A
careful investigation demonstrated that he had told my wife and me the
truth in every detail. He is now in prison serving his sentence for the
offenses committed prior to his chance meeting with my wife."

Pointing his finger at Dorlan he raised his tremulous voice and said in
ringing tones, "Do you realize, sir, that the social fabric of which you
are a part, furnished the viper that has stung me in a vital spot? Where,
sir, are your churches, your school rooms, all of your influences that are
supposed to produce worthy beings?" Lemuel Dalton's manner was so frantic
that Dorlan began to feel that he was dangerously near insanity.

Lemuel Dalton divined the thought that was passing through Dorlan's mind
and answered it, lowering his voice as he did so. "Oh, no! I am not at all
unbalanced. To show you that I am not I shall answer my own question. You
<DW64>s need more from us Southern whites than a feeling of indifference,
or a spirit of 'make it if you can.' I have come to learn at so sad a cost
that the safety and happiness of my race is inexorably bound up with the
virtue and well-being of your race." The look of intensity now faded from
his face; a sort of vacant expression appeared.

As though listlessly looking at something in the distance, he said, half
musingly, "Morlene Dalton sent me to you. I went to her because she told me
years ago that I would come to this. I am here to-night to offer my help to
your race, and to ask what you all desire of me." He spoke slowly and in
solemn tones.

"But, hold! before you speak, let me tell you that about me which is
subject to no compromise," he burst forth excitedly. Said he: "I am an
exclusive; I want no mixture of blood, thought or activities with the <DW64>
race. I want this white race to keep on manifesting its true inwardness to
the world. I wish our whole civilization to be permeated with our own
peculiar fragrance and that only. Whatever I can do for your people without
jeopardy to this conception I stand ready to do. True, this means that I
desire you to be an alien in our midst. But my present position is an
improvement on my former, in that I am now willing to do all that can be
done to make this alien, happy, prosperous and virtuous; but an alien ever,
remember. Will you kindly point out to a white man standing on this
platform what _he_ may consistently do for the <DW64>?"

Lemuel Dalton ceased speaking and now sat in the chair which he had
previously refused.

"I am grieved, profoundly grieved that your wife, who may be the prototype
of hundreds, has been drawn into the awful vortex of this race trouble."

Lemuel Dalton arose from his seat and with glaring eyes looked down upon
Dorlan intently.

Again the impression came to Dorlan that he was dealing with a mad man, and
he began to ponder a line of action based on that thought.

"Tut, tut, you persist in thinking I am crazy," said Lemuel Dalton, again
guessing Dorlan's thoughts and bringing his will to bear to cause a more
calm expression to appear on his (Lemuel's) face.

Drawing near to Dorlan, he said: "I came to discuss the race question with
you, but I am in no mood for that." He paused for an instant. Resuming in a
lower tone of voice, he said, slowly, "You  folks believe in God. I
don't." Again he paused. "That is, I didn't. But the morning Eulalie, my
wife, was brought home wounded, I called God's name for the first time
since my early childhood." Here he paused again.

"Eulalie was a Christian," he said, looking into Dorlan's face piercingly.
"Tell me the truth. Do you, do you," he asked falteringly. "Do you think
that--" here a pause--"I shall meet--Eulalie again?" The last words were
uttered in a loud screeching voice. Without waiting for an answer Lemuel
Dalton turned away to hide his fast falling tears. Out of the room he
walked, out into the darkness he went, alternately imploring and cursing
the great force, whatever it might be, that was operating through all
creation, and had suffered so terrible a load to fall upon his shoulders.

As for Dorlan, he sat far into the night musing on the occurrences of the
evening. "To-night I have been confronted with an epitome of the situation
of the <DW64> in this country," he said. "One white man comes who is angry
because I will not be his tool. Then follows the exclusive, who feels that
my touch is contaminating. Truly the <DW64> is between the upper and the
nether millstones.

"Ah, Morlene what a task you have assigned unto this pilot, called by you
to guide the bark of the <DW64> over this perilous sea. As I take my post,
happy am I, that in my love of humanity I find my chart; in my love for my
race I have a compass; and in my love for you I have a lighthouse on the
shore.

"Shine on, sweet soul, that I may pilot this vessel through the breakers,
above whose hidden heads the waves are ever chanting the solemn song of
death."

Happy was Dorlan in this hour that his inherited riches would enable him to
conquer ills which the poverty of the race had hitherto rendered
insurmountable.




CHAPTER XXIX.

IN THE BALANCES.


At last the day came on which Dorlan was to submit his plan to Morlene.

He arose early that morning, packed his trunk, boxed up his most important
papers and wrote out instructions as to the disposition to be made of his
other possessions. These preparations completed, he walked down town to the
post office and sent his plan to Morlene as registered matter. Having done
this, Dorlan returned to his boarding place and bade all a sorrowful
good-bye, stating that a great deal of uncertainty was attendant upon his
journey, and that he knew not whether he would ever return to R----. Going
down to the depot, he was soon aboard a train speeding away.

In the meanwhile Morlene had received the documents sent to her. In
addition to the plan, Dorlan had sent a personal letter, on the envelope of
which were written these words, "Please do not read the enclosed letter
until you have read and passed upon the plan." Morlene lifted the envelope
to her lips, kissed it, and laid it away, intending to read the letter
after her study of the plan, in keeping with Dorlan's wishes.

Morlene was deeply conscious as to how much depended upon her verdict on
Dorlan's plan. Her own and the happiness of Dorlan were involved. The
suffering, restless <DW64>s were to be offered a panacea and she was their
representative to accept or reject the proffered medicine. The welfare of
the South and the peace of the nation were at stake. Upon the outcome of
the race question in America the hopes of the darker races of the world
depended. Even the cause of popular government was involved, she felt, for
it was to be seen whether a republic could deal with a race problem of so
virulent a type. Thus, with the eyes of the world upon her, Morlene
unfolded the manuscript and began its study.

As the document was somewhat voluminous, and as the issues involved were of
such grave import to the cause of humanity, Morlene decided that she would
proceed about her task with much deliberation. Had she known the contents
of Dorlan's personal letter she would have proceeded with more dispatch.
This Dorlan knew, and not desiring the personal element to appear in her
study of the plan enjoined that she should pursue her work without being
influenced by what was contained in his letter.

So, after reading a while, Morlene laid the manuscript aside and spent the
remainder of the day in meditating on what she had read. The second day
she did likewise. Morlene began to be much elated, for, as the paper
progressed, she saw that Dorlan was treating the subject in a most
comprehensive way. Thus, from day to day, she read and pondered, her hopes
rising higher and higher.

Sometimes when Dorlan would enter upon the discussion of some particularly
difficult question, her old feeling of fear would return, but when in a
most masterly manner he would sweep away the seeming difficulties just as
though they were so many cobwebs, her heart would leap joyfully. By and by,
after the lapse of many days Morlene drew near to the close of the
document. When, on the last day of her perusal, she read the last words of
the last page, and her mind flashed back to the beginning and surveyed in
general outline the whole, her enthusiasm knew no bounds. In quavering
tones the sweet voice of this girl, charged and surcharged with love and
patriotism, murmured the words, "Columbia is saved. Let all mankind
henceforth honor the name of Dorlan, the hero of humanity." She now secured
Dorlan's letter, broke the seal and read as follows, a look of pain
deepening on her beautiful face as she read.

     THE LETTER.

     "DEAR MORLENE:

     "As best I could, heaven knows, I have wrestled with
     the problem assigned to me by you, the queen of my
     heart. Some one has said that the most _sublime_
     incident in all of human history was Martin Luther's
     standing alone before the Diet of Worms. Side by side
     with that statement let all men now write that my
     situation is the most excruciatingly _painful_ one that
     a human being has ever been called upon to endure. When
     I first met you, circumstances forced me to stifle the
     love that was ready to burst into a flame.
     Subsequently, fate decreed that you should be free, and
     my heart ran riot.

     "But fate was determined that one so beautiful and so
     worthy as yourself should not be won until the wooer
     appeared in some degree worthy of the lady whose hand
     was desired.

     "Now, dear Morlene, tell me by what process, human or
     divine, I could be made in any measure worthy of you?
     If this plan is supposed to achieve that result, is
     supposed to mark me as worthy of your hand, it has
     failure written on its face. This conclusion would seem
     to be beyond the realm of debate. And yet my reason
     tells me that the plan must of necessity succeed; that,
     being based upon incontrovertible laws there is no way
     for it to fail.

     "Now, Morlene, my darling, with my powers of intuition
     telling me that I must fail of winning your hand and
     with my reason telling me I have successfully performed
     the task assigned me, what must I do? Hope and Fear
     have come to terms in my bosom, and one occupies the
     throne one minute and the other the next. They
     alternate thus by day and by night. In my dreams I am
     sometimes as happy as the angels are reputed to
     be--happier than they, I should say. But the joy is
     short-lived, and in my dreams I find myself tumbling
     over precipices and wading through miry swamps.

     "I could not stay in R----, and in quietness await your
     verdict. I have had to travel, to lessen, if possible,
     the strain of anxiety upon my mind. So, when you find
     yourself reading this letter, I shall be hundreds of
     miles away at Galveston, Texas, on the beach of the
     great Gulf. I am here awaiting your verdict. If it is
     favorable, I shall return to you forthwith. If
     unfavorable, I am at a port where ships are daily
     leaving for all parts of the world. Enough for that.

     "Finally, dear one, if the scheme which I submitted to
     you affords the necessary assurance that the problem
     will be solved, telegraph to me the one word,
     'Unfettered.' If it does not afford such assurance, let
     your message be 'Fettered still.'

                 "Am I yours,

                   _Forever or Never_?

                        "DORLAN WARTHELL."

When Morlene finished reading the letter it was covered with the tears that
had sped down her cheeks. "Dear, dear boy! how much he must have suffered,
if he loves me thus!" So saying, she arose and hastened toward the
telegraph office for the purpose of sending a message to Dorlan.

"Suppose my delay has begotten in Dorlan the recklessness of despair,"
thought Morlene, and fear born of the terrible thought seemed to lend her
wings.




CHAPTER XXX.

THE TELEGRAM.


Arriving in the city of Galveston, Dorlan, anxious to receive the expected
message from Morlene at the earliest possible moment, took up his abode in
an establishment just opposite the telegraph office.

Day after day Dorlan took his seat at the window of his room and watched
the messenger boys as they hurried to an fro delivering messages. He
thought of how much anxiety the countless messages represented, but
concluded that his was equal to all the other anxieties combined. Each
night, when he regarded the hour as too late to reasonably expect a message
from Morlene, he would go down to the beach and gaze out upon the great
expanse of waters. The tossing waves and the heaving billows reminded him
of his own heart. The tides would roll in to the shore and the waves would
lap his feet with their spray, as much as to say, "Come with us. We are
like you. We are restless. Come with us." Dorlan would look up at the
watching stars and out into the depths of the silent dark. Then he would
whisper to the pleading waves: "Not yet. Perhaps some day."

Dorlan's _love_, in keeping with the well earned reputation of that master
passion, had led him to hope for an early answer from Morlene, in spite of
the extreme gravity and manifold complexity of the question that she was
now trying to decide. His _reason_ told him better than to expect so early
a reply. Thus, when love gave evidence of disappointment, reason would say,
"Much love hath made thee mad, my boy. Give the dear girl a chance, will
you?" At the close of each day this colloquy between love and reason would
take place.

But Morlene's delay began to extend beyond the utmost limits that Dorlan
had set. Thereupon love's tone became more insistent and the voice of
reason grew correspondingly feeble.

Dorlan at last concluded that Morlene's decision was unfavorable to him,
and that she hesitated to deliver the final blow. Every vestige of hope had
fled and he now kept up his daily vigil purely out of respect for Morlene,
not that he longer expected a favorable answer.

Unwilling for Morlene's sake to listen in the nights' solitude to the
wooing of the restless waves, Dorlan changed his nightly course and moved
about in the city. As he was listlessly wandering through the city one
night, he came upon a crowd standing in a vacant lot listening to a man
detail the reputed virtues of medicines which he was trying to sell.

The medicine man's face was handsome, his head covered with a profusion of
flaxen hair which fell in curls over his shoulders. His voice had a
pleasing ring and his whole personality was alluring. On the platform with
the man was a group of <DW64> boys who provided entertainment for the crowd
in the intervals between the introduction of the various medicines. Dorlan
stood on the outer edge of the throng and thought on the spectacle
presented.

The white people of the South, as evidenced by their pleasure in <DW64>
minstrelsy, were prone to regard the <DW64> as a joke. And the unthinking
youths were now employed to dance and sing and laugh away the aspirations
of a people.

Dorlan's veins began to pulsate with indignation as he reflected on the
fact that the ludicrous in the race was the only feature that had free
access to the public gaze. He was longing for an opportunity to show to the
audience that there was something in the <DW64> that could make their bosoms
thrill with admiration. In a most unexpected manner the opportunity was to
come.

The medicine man near the hour of closing addressed the audience, saying:
"Gentlemen, it pains me to state that our aeronaut is confined to his bed
and will be unable to-night to make his customary balloon ascension and
descent in the parachute. That part of our evening's entertainment must
therefore be omitted, unless some one of you will volunteer to act in his
stead."

The last remark was accompanied with a smile, the speaker taking it for
granted that no one would be willing to take the risk.

"Two birds with one stone," said Dorlan. "The boys have taught this
audience how to laugh. I can show them an act of bravery. One bird!

"There must be a great force somewhere directing the affairs of the
universe. His plannings puzzle me. Men have accidentally gone from balloons
to solve the great mystery of all things. Bird number two! Morlene
evidently does not care."

Elbowing his way through the crowd, Dorlan clambered upon the platform and
said: "Gentlemen, the phases of <DW64> character are as varied as those of
other men. There is in us the sense of the humorous and the possibilities
of the tragic. We can partake of life to satiety, we can die of grief.
These boys have made you laugh. Allow me to awaken in you higher emotions.
I will make the ascension and descent and thus prevent the marring of our
evening's entertainment."

The medicine man looked at Dorlan in astonishment, approached him and
talked with him a short while. Concluding that Dorlan was sane, knew what
he was about, and would not undertake the feat if incapable of successfully
performing it, the man now had the balloon prepared. The audience, glad
that they were not to be robbed of their expected pleasure, cheered lustily
when it was found that Dorlan was to make the trip into the air.

Dorlan stepped into the balloon and was soon being whirled upward. His soul
felt a measure of relief as he rose above the staring crowd, above the tall
buildings, as he entered the regions of floating clouds, as he passed
upward toward the brightly shining moon and the quiet light of the stars.
On and on he swept.

The pure air into which he had now come refreshed his spirit and he could
look at matters with a clearer vision. "Think," said Dorlan, as he stood in
the balloon and gazed into the stellar depths, "how long it took this
universe to evolve unto its present state. Think of the seemingly slow
process of world formation now going on in the Nebulae scattered through
those realms yonder." His mind reverting to his attitude toward Morlene, he
said:

"And here I am impatient because that dear girl on whose heart the woes of
the world now rest has not hastened in deciding that I had harnessed the
forces that will solve one of the most difficult problems that ever
perplexed mankind."

The utter unreasonableness of expecting so early an answer upon a question
that demanded such earnest thought, now appeared to him as almost
criminal. He saw that the time allowed Morlene, in what he regarded as his
saner moods, was thoroughly inadequate. These moments of elevation and
reflection restored hope to his bosom.

Stimulated by the thought that Morlene was not necessarily lost to him as
yet, Dorlan now caused the balloon to start toward the earth. He would have
liked to come down all the way in the balloon since he was no longer
yearning for death, but he remembered his brave speech and the expectations
of the crowd below. So, in spite or his keen desire to live, he decided to
maintain his honor in the eyes of the waiting audience and descend in the
parachute at whatever cost. Not knowing what would be his fate, Dorlan
sprang out of the balloon, trusting to the parachute. At a terrific speed
he shot downward toward the earth. For a few seconds the parachute seemed
that it was not going to bear him safely to earth, but, happily for the
innocent Morlene, soon readjusted itself. Down, down, down, it came
bringing to the murky atmosphere, to the crowded streets, to the regions of
jarring ambitions, the troubled spirit that sought in an hour of despair to
fly its ills.

Dorlan reached the ground in safety and received the congratulations of the
spectators, who, guided by the light attached to the balloon, had succeeded
in locating the possible point of descent.

Dorlan now went home, fully resolved to await in calmer spirit the expected
answer.

One day as Dorlan was sitting before his window, he saw a messenger boy
come out of the telegraph office, pause and look up at the number on the
house in which he was stopping.

The boy then started across the street in Dorlan's direction. Dorlan ran
out of his room and down the steps, reaching the door before the boy. Sure
enough the telegram was for Dorlan. He snatched it from the boy and handed
him a dollar.

Dorlan turned to go upstairs. "Wait for your change, Mister. We don't get
but ten cents extra."

"Keep the dollar, lad," said Dorlan, hurrying up the stairway. Entering his
room he gently laid the telegram upon the center table and stood back to
gaze upon it. Dorlan could not conceive how he could endure the excess of
grief if the message was unfavorable, or the excess of joy if it was
favorable. Cautiously he approached the table, then seized the telegram and
tore it open.

The next instant the lady of the house verily thought that a Comanche
Indian had broken into her establishment, so loud was Dorlan's shout of joy
when his eyes fell on the one word, "Unfettered." Her astonishment was even
greater when Dorlan so suddenly departed, leaving in her hands a roll of
money far in excess of her charges.

Dorlan had no time for explanations. The soul that had come into the world
to mate with his was calling for him and all other considerations had to
fade away.

       *       *       *       *       *

As the train rolled into the shed adjacent to the great depot at R----,
Dorlan, who was standing on the platform of a coach, caught sight of
Morlene, who had come down to the station to meet him. He seemed to feel
that he could cover the remaining distance between himself and Morlene
quicker than the train, for he leapt upon the platform before the train
stopped and urged his way through the throng to the spot where she stood.

Then, half forgetting and half remembering the multitude present, Dorlan
grasped the outstretched hands of Morlene drew her to him, and planted on
her lips a kiss--just one, mark you. The ladies who were standing near
looked searchingly at Dorlan, and rendered a silent verdict that Morlene
could be excused for not resenting the salutation from so handsome and so
noble looking a man.

The men looked at Morlene and wondered how Dorlan could be content with
just that one. Those men always thereafter gave Dorlan the credit of being
a man of marvelous self-control. You see, they did not consult Morlene on
that point, who and who alone knew how frequent and how fervent were those
manifestations of regard after the proper authorities had said that she
was to be Mrs. Morlene Warthell thenceforth until death.

       *       *       *       *       *

Over the hillsides of life, through its many valleys, alongside its
babbling brooks, in the splendor of the noonday, in the gloaming, in
deepest shades of evening, on and on, Dorlan and Morlene go, happy that
they are freed from the narrow and narrowing problems of race; happy that
at last they, in common with the rest of mankind, may labor for the
solution of those larger humanistic problems that have so long vexed the
heart of earth.

We now bid this loving and laboring couple a fond adieu, well knowing that
wherever in this broad world these true souls may wander they will be
gladly received and housed as the benefactors of mankind.


THE END OF UNFETTERED.




DORLAN'S PLAN.

(SEQUEL TO "UNFETTERED.")

A DISSERTATION ON THE RACE PROBLEM.

BY

SUTTON E. GRIGGS.

       *       *       *       *       *

     "The solution of the <DW64> Problem involves the honor
     or dishonor, the glory or shame, the happiness or
     misery of the entire American people."--_Frederick
     Douglass_.

     "I had rather see my people render back this question
     rightly solved than to see them gather all the spoils
     over which faction has contended since Cataline
     conspired and Caesar fought."--_Henry W. Grady_.




FOREWORD.


Prior to the coming of Dorlan Warthell, there were many to be found in the
United States who utterly despaired of a happy solution of the problem of
adjusting the relations of the Anglo-Saxon and <DW64> races to each other on
an honorable and mutually satisfactory basis, taking care the while to meet
the highest demands of the present and of all future ages.

Others, while not despairing, confessed that in the horizon subject to
their vision not a glimmer of light appeared; confessed that they were only
sustained by their general knowledge of nature's power to solve, through
tears and years, all her problems.

Thus, until the day when Dorlan came, Columbia sat chained on the one side
by benumbing pessimism and on the other by deferred hope. Accepting the
judgment of so sweet and true a soul as Morlene, it was he who solved the
problem. In view of the complicated nature of the problem and the great
interests involved, its solution must ever be regarded as a noteworthy
achievement.

It occurred to us that the ages which now sleep in the womb of time would
be pleased to ponder the achievement, hoping to find in the spirit and
method of its undertaking, suggestions that would enable them to deal
wisely with the problems of their day.

For the sake, therefore, of posterity we have concluded to place on record
a copy of Dorlan's Plan by means of which he swept away the last barrier
that stood between himself and the woman who had entered into his life to
give color to the whole of his existence in this world and in such other
worlds as may afford a dwelling place for the spirit of man.

Perhaps a majority of those who have read "Unfettered" and have learned to
share Dorlan's exalted opinion of Morlene, will not care to read the Plan,
being content to rest the whole matter upon Morlene's decision. Those who
pay such a tribute to our heroine may thus escape the tedium of wading
through the dry details of a plan by means of which a long suffering race
was saved.

Others who may be disposed to question Morlene's judgment, who think that
her love for Dorlan influenced her to decide in his favor, are hereby
furnished with the Plan and ordered to read it as a befitting punishment
for their temerity.

As these "doubting Thomases" wearily plod their way through the Plan we
hope that they will have ever present with them to add to their torture,
the thought that they would have escaped the punishment of reading all that
Dorlan wrote had they meekly accepted Morlene's verdict. As wail after wail
shall arise proclaiming what dull reading the Plan makes, we shall chuckle
gleefully and rub our hands joyfully, happy that those who would not take
the word of our heroine have come to the end so richly deserved.

Those who accepted Morlene's verdict and now read the Plan simply for the
purpose of defending her from hypercritical personages are heroes indeed.
For, be it remembered, it often requires more courage to read some books
than it does to fight a battle.

Such may be the case with Dorlan's Plan, and all have fair warning.

THE AUTHOR.




DORLAN'S PLAN.

WHERE THE TROUBLE ARISES.


The <DW64> is a human being. He has manifested every essential trait of
human nature. The following words from Emerson, spoken of each individual
member of the human family, may be specially affirmed with regard to the
<DW64>: "What Plato has thought he may think; what a saint has felt he may
feel; what at any time has befallen any man, he can understand."

The general laws governing the physical and psychic natures of men; that
unfold the workings of the human body and the mental, moral, religious,
social and aesthetic processes of the soul--the general laws governing these
operations may be applied with as much force to the <DW64> as to any other
human being.

This has been an age of astounding discoveries; but the physiologist, the
psychist, the ethical writer, the ecclesiastic, the sociologist, the
investigator of aesthetic manifestations, the ethnologist, the philologist,
the natural scientist, though searching eagerly, have discovered naught to
controvert or in anywise impair the doctrine of the unity of the human
race as set forth in the declaration of Paul, "that all nations of men"
have been "made of one blood to dwell on all the face of the earth."

Those who concede to the humanity of the <DW64> and hold to the theory that
man is upon the earth through the direct, specific, creative fiat of God,
are forced to admit that the <DW64>'s certificate of membership in the human
family is signed by the Deity, and by virtue of that fact must be received
at face value.

He who holds with the evolutionist that man is the product of evolutionary
forces, working incessantly through the countless ages that lie behind us,
must perceive that, in that event, the <DW64> can point to the fact that his
presence in the human family has the sanction of the multiplied myriads of
experiences that, from one forge, out of one material, through the one
process, made him along with other human beings. If God is represented as
presiding over the forces of evolution, the <DW64> may claim that God and
nature have fixed his status as a human being.

Being forever established by the Supreme Architect of the universe within
the line drawn to encircle humanity to the exclusion of all things else,
the <DW64> is entitled to every right that inheres in the fact of his
humanity. He is entitled to all the benefits of the feeling of distinctive
fellowship--that feeling which operates to bind ant to ant, bird to bird,
and man to man, as apart from other orders of beings. He is entitled to the
designation, Brother. The <DW64> has identically the same right to live as
other human beings; the same right as they to tread unfettered any and all
of the pathways that destiny has marked out for human feet.

It is this conception of the basic, inherent right of the <DW64> to share on
equal terms with all other human beings all the rights and privileges
appertaining to membership in the human family that gives rise to the Race
Problem in the United States of America. For, while the claim is
passionately cherished by the <DW64>s and is espoused with varying degrees
of warmth by one section of the American whites, it is most vigorously
opposed by another.


OUR PROBLEM.

It is our task to so utilize the forces at our command as to nullify all
artificial hindrances to the development of the <DW64>; to remove from his
soul the man-imposed fetters; to so open the way that the man with a black
skin shall have his opportunities limited solely by his capacity, as is the
case with those not of his color. We are to institute merit as the test of
preferment; mind, as the measure of the man. To reverse the standard of
measurement, to transfer it from color to culture, is our problem.

The plan to be submitted must take cognizance of all the factors in the
situation; must be capable of being operated by the race constituted,
environed and conditioned as it is. With this conception of our task we
begin our labors.


THE INSPIRATION OF THE OPPOSITION.

It is well in every species of combat for a man to seek to know the exact
nature of the opposing force. Knowing this, one understands the better how
to gauge his efforts. With this aim in view, we shall make a reconnoitre to
discover just what is arrayed against us.

Mr. Herbert Spencer says: "It has come to be a maxim of science that in the
causes still at work, are to be identified the causes which, similarly at
work during past times, have produced the state of things now existing."

We would expect, therefore, to find the past yet affecting the <DW64>, and
such is indeed the case. From the year 1619 until the close of the civil
war, the white people of the South held the <DW64>s in slavery.

It is the habit of nature to confer upon a man those equalities that the
better fit him for his line of work. In order to successfully hold slaves,
the Southern man fostered the belief that the <DW64>'s humanity was somehow
of a different brand from his own. Having satisfied himself that essential
differences existed between himself and the <DW64>, he was the better
prepared to mete out treatment which he would have deemed outrageous if
applied to himself by another.

To prevent uprisings on the part of the slaves repressive measures were
instituted, and the Southern white man became an adept in the art of
controlling others, and his nature became inured to the task. The traits of
character acquired in one generation were transmitted to succeeding
generations, so that notions of inherent superiority and the belief in the
right of repression became ingrained in Southern character.

In confirmation of this conclusion, we again quote from Mr. Herbert
Spencer, who says: "The emotional nature prompting the general mode of
conduct is derived from ancestors--is a product of all ancestral
activities. * * * The governing sentiment is, in short, mainly the
accumulated and organized sentiment of the past."

In view of the foregoing, it becomes evident that the repression which the
<DW64> encounters to-day is but the offspring of his repression of
yesterday.


STILL IN THE BALANCES.

In Prof. Giddings' "analysis of the population of the United States
according to race, he says that the English temperament is represented by
about 33-1/3 per cent., the prevailing Irish by about 29 per cent., and the
prevailing Scotch by about 19 per cent. The percentage, not of course
precise, is, he thinks, indicative of the influence on the American life
and character of these racial tendencies."

We are laboring to add the voice of the <DW64> to this national chorus. The
giving of the <DW64> an opportunity for untrammeled activity in the National
Government means that much of an addition to and consequent alteration of
our characteristic Americanism.

It is evident that the <DW64> will bring into the national spirit the
influence of his peculiar characteristics. Now this adding to and taking
from the national spirit is a most grave matter. Often the characteristic
spirit of a people is a sole remaining reliance; is often the only asset
that the fluctuations of capricious fortune has not swept away.

The great importance that attaches to the spirit that characterizes a
nation is set forth by Napoleon Bonaparte in the following words: "Had I
been in 1815 the choice of the English as I was of the French, I might have
lost the battle of Waterloo without losing a vote in the legislature or a
soldier from my ranks." Allusion is here made to that British tendency to
persist in a given course and adhere to the standards of chosen leaders in
the midst of circumstances adverse and even appalling. On the soil of
England and on many another spot where the Englishman's foot has trod, from
the dying embers, yea, the smouldering ashes of defeat, victory has so
often sprung as the result of the spirit to which Napoleon Bonaparte paid
tribute.

The English speaking race holds woman in high esteem, but she has thus far
been denied the right of suffrage because of the uncertainty as to what
would be the resultant blend arising from her more active participation in
the affairs of State.

Mr. Wm. E. Lecky, in opposing the granting of the right of suffrage to the
women of England, gave it as his opinion that the emotional element in
politics was already sufficiently great without the addition of the
strongly developed emotionalism of woman. The same sentiment of
conservatism that operates to cause woman's rejection is, beyond question,
a factor in our problem.

The <DW64> has but lately entered civilization's parlor. He possesses an
oriental nature called to service in an occidental civilization. Of
remarkably quiescent tendencies he must play a part in a government born of
a revolutionary spirit and so devised that revolutions may be effected
whenever desired through means of the ballot box.

The remarkable manner in which we have responded to the quickening touch of
civilization; the revelation of traits of a sublime nature unparalleled in
the world's history (witness the keen sense of honor that led us to care
for the helpless wives and children of those who were at the seat of war
fighting for our continued enslavement); the successful meeting, where
conditions were favorable, of every test that civilization has thus far
imposed--these considerations influence us to believe that the grasping of
the flagstaff by <DW64> hands but means that the flag will float the higher
and flutter the prouder and diffuse through the earth even greater glory
than before our coming.

Before we can take up the full place for which we aspire, we must meet and
combat the timorous conservatism that has hitherto impeded our progress.

Thus are the lines of battle drawn. On one field stands the hopeful <DW64>
never to be contented save with a man's place. On the opposing field stands
the Southern white man with an inherited nature and cultivated sentiments
that render the repression of the <DW64> a congenial task. To one side
stands the representative of civilization at large, hesitating about doing
more in our behalf until we have fully cleared our skirts of the suspicion
that attaches to a new comer into civilization. With this conception of the
influences which we are to combat, we now plan for the momentous struggle.


HE WHO HAS HITHERTO FOLLOWED CALLED UPON TO LEAD.

Napoleon has said that men of imagination rule the world. When society is
in a transitional state, men of imagination are able through clear
comprehension of the forces at work, to project themselves into the new
era, and, seeing where the movement tends, place themselves at the head of
the procession. Those deficient in this faculty cannot perceive the
ultimate goal of the processes forming before their very eyes; and, even
when new conditions have come bearing the stamp of immortality, they yet
are dreaming of a relapse into old conditions that are gone forever. They
are thus unfit for the duties of the new era, being devotees of the past.
The ruling of the world is, therefore, left, as Napoleon asserts, to men of
imagination.

The present moment is one calling for the exercise of this faculty of the
mind on the part of the <DW64> in the United States. Hitherto the Republican
party has been looked upon as the agency which was to solve all his
problems. This was a very natural expectation as that party has been the
agency by means of which so much tending in that direction has been
accomplished.

A political party, aspiring for control of the Government, may choose a
paramount issue, but one in power labors to take care of all interests
committed to it. Now that the Republican party has won a place in the
hearts of the American people, the business interests of the country are
insistent that they be cared for first and foremost. The nation is making
an effort to extend its commerce into all parts of the earth, and the
Republican party is implored to be the agency through which this is to be
accomplished.

In view of the many interests committed to its care, the Republican party
seems disinclined to make a specialty of the <DW64> Problem. While
reaffirming its old time position on that subject, it does not see its way
clear to jeopardize all other interests for the sake of that one plank of
its platform. While the friendship and moral support of that party is to be
retained, and while <DW64>s who sympathize with its economic policies
should abide with it, it is not wise for the race to rely upon it solely
for the proper adjustment of the Race Problem.

In fact, the hour has come when the race must take the matter of its
salvation into its own hands. In times past, when the battles of the race
were to be fought, others led and the trusting <DW64> followed. In this new
era the <DW64>s must lead, must bear the main brunt of the battle. Thus,
while estranging no friends of the past, and fully appreciating the
continued necessity of outside assistance wherever attainable, the foreword
of our new propaganda shall be Self-Reliance.

Having hitherto been concerned with the task of comprehending and imbibing
a civilization which we had no appreciable share in developing, our
passivity, quiescence, docility, the readiness to follow others, were the
characteristics which we mainly manifested.

Now that we are to cast off the role of a nursling and take our place as
co-creators of whatever the future has in store for the human race, a new
order of talents must be called into operation and a new mode of procedure
adopted.

Fortunately for us we have the incentive of a largely inglorious past to be
redeemed, and the light of all of man's past to serve as our guide.


REVISITING THE ORIENT.

To gain our first lesson in the work before us, we transport ourselves over
land and sea until, standing in the valley of the Nile, we can pause and
gaze upon the pyramids of Egypt, reminders of the day when our ancestral
home held aloft the torch of civilization. In those pyramids, we behold
that stones of enormous size and weight have been lifted to such distances
from the earth as to stagger the imagination and inspire wonder in the
hearts of all generations of all races that have seen or heard of the feat
unparalleled in ancient or modern times.

Some African genius of the long ago constructed a device, now unknown to
earth, whereby the several strengths of individuals could be conjoined and
the sum of their strengths thus obtained applied to the task of lifting the
ponderous stones. Innumerable hosts would have failed in lifting those
pyramidal stones to the positions which they occupy had it not been for the
aid of the device that enabled them to work conjointly. From these
pyramids, eloquent in their silence, persistent reminders of the departed
glory of Africa, let the scattered sons of that soil learn their first
great need--Co-operation.

Our initial step must be the creation of a device whereby the several
strengths of the millions of <DW64>s in the world may be harnessed to the
huge stone of a world hate, to the end that said stone shall be swung aloft
and hurled into the sea, sinking by the force of its own weight into
eternal oblivion.


CLASPING HANDS.

In view of the fact that we cannot now point to any organization capable of
amassing the full strength of the race, and as the absence of such an
organization might be construed to indicate that there is no need for such,
we now quote authorities that thoroughly demonstrate the absolute need of
co-operative effort.

Prince Kropotkin, the eminent Russian naturalist, in discussing
co-operation among lower animals, remarks:

"If we * * * * ask Nature, 'Who are the fittest: those who are continually
at war with each other, or those who support one another?' we at once see
that those animals which acquire habits of mutual aid are undoubtedly the
fittest. They have more chances to survive, and they attain, in their
respective classes, the highest development of intelligence and bodily
organization."

Darwin, giving the results of his observation among the lower animals, pays
tribute to the spirit of co-operation, when he says: "Those communities (of
animals) which included the greatest number of the most sympathetic members
would flourish best."

Ascending from the lower animals, we find that co-operation is equally as
valuable and necessary for man. In the march of humanity toward an ideal
civilization, we find those races in the van which have best acquired the
art of co-operating, while the rear is brought up by those peoples in whom
the instinct of co-operation is thus far missing or but feebly developed.

Prof. Henry Drummond remarks: "To create units in indefinite quantities and
scatter them over the world is not even to take one single step in
progress. Before any higher evolution can take place these units must by
some means be brought into relation so as not only to act together, but to
react upon each other. According to well known biological laws, it is only
in combinations, whether of atoms, cells, animals, or human beings that
individual units can make any progress, and to create such combinations is
in every case the first condition of development. Hence the first
commandment of Evolution everywhere is, 'Thou shalt mass, segregate,
combine, grow large.'"

A recent writer has expressed the thought that "neither material
prosperity, nor happiness, nor physical vigor, nor higher intelligence,"
constitute the difference between the 'higher' and the 'lower' races, but
that "those are higher in which broad social instincts and the habit of
co-operation exist."

In whatever direction we turn we find evidence of the universality of this
law. The voices of science, history and sociology in unbroken harmony sing
to the <DW64> of the necessity of co-operative effort. We must, therefore,
proceed at once to the formation of a racial organization truly
representative, and able to present the combined resources of the race to
the work before us. When this is done the Race Problem will at once assume
an acute phase; for the aggregate wisdom and power of the <DW64> none can
wisely ignore. Especially is it to be borne in mind that an aggregation of
the kind indicated is calculated to reveal, to develop, to impart added
greatness to men already peculiarly endowed with powers of aggressive
leadership. We must, then, add to the equation the enormous impetus to be
given to causes by the presence of great spirits arousing and guiding the
thoughts and energies of earnest, daring millions.


RENOVATION.

When our great organization has been effected it must proceed to the
diligent study of such traits and environing influences as have in the past
operated to impair the spirit of co-operation. Locating the weak points, we
must proceed to induce in the <DW64> such mental and moral characteristics,
and must so regulate his environments as to insure efficient co-operation
for all the future.

It is an evident fact that the spirit of jealousy is more prevalent in some
individuals than in others. The like may be asserted with regard to races.
Among the <DW64>s there appears to be an inordinate development of this
feeling of jealousy, which makes itself felt among the humblest and among
the highest. Success on the part of a <DW64> would appear to be a standing
invitation for the shooting of arrows into his bosom. While a strict
surveillance over leaders is highly commendable, the baneful effects of
hypercriticism and jealous intrigues are far reaching. Our racial
organization must tear up by the roots this extraordinary predisposition
toward jealousy and plant in its stead the flower of brotherly love.

During our prolonged existence in a state of individualism, each man
working for himself and by himself, there was but little to engender in a
man the spirit of sacrifice in the interest of the race as an aggregation.
When our racial organization is perfected we must write upon every man's
heart the following words, causing each one to feel in his own case: "It is
expedient for us, that one man should die for the people."

In the work of further congealing the race, of inducing in it the social
instincts so needful for efficient co-operation, we have the aid of the
scorching flames of race prejudice which flash in the faces of all <DW64>s
thus driving them closer together.

As the wars of David with surrounding enemies made a nation of the loose
aggregation of the twelve tribes of Israel; as the hundred years of
fighting with France effected the integration of the people of England; as
the war of the Revolution sowed the seed that enabled the American people
to form a nation out of the thirteen colonies; as the compact German
empire of to-day is the result of outside pressure; just so is American
prejudice producing a oneness of sentiment in the <DW64>s which inevitably
leads toward their acting as a unit in matters affecting their salvation.

Having arranged for our organization, we are now to point out the lines
along which it is to labor.


WHERE TO BEGIN.

Realizing that we must at every point demonstrate that we are intrinsically
as well as constitutionally entitled to the lofty estate of American
citizenship, our racial organization must neglect nothing needful in the
fitting of the race for the high destiny unto which it is called.

In the work of preparing the race, first and foremost, attention must be
given to character building. Any hopes founded on aught else, are illusive.
Character is the bedrock on which we must build. In describing the
successful nation, Mr. Lecky gives voice to the following sentiments unto
which we must pay utmost heed:

"Its foundation is laid in pure domestic life, in commercial integrity, in
a high standard of moral worth and of public spirit, in simple habits, in
courage, uprightness, and a certain soundness and moderation of judgment
which springs quite as much from character as from intellect. If you would
form a wise judgment of the future of a nation, observe carefully whether
these qualities are increasing or decaying. Observe especially what
qualities count for most in public life. Is character becoming of greater
or less importance? Are the men who obtain the highest posts in the nation,
men of whom in private life and irrespective of party, competent judges
speak with genuine respect? Are they of sincere convictions, consistent
lives, indisputable integrity? * * * It is by observing this moral current
that you can best cast the horoscope of a nation."


"THERE IS NO PLACE LIKE HOME."

In the matter of character building, first, attention must be paid to the
home. Prof. Henry Drummond has remarked that "the first great schoolroom of
the human race is the home." He further remarks that "It is the mature
opinion of every one who has thought upon the history of the world, that
the thing of highest importance for all times and to all nations is Family
Life."

The home life of the <DW64> has had to encounter many antagonistic
influences. The work of home building could not progress under the
institution of slavery. The present builders of <DW64> homes are, therefore,
pioneers, in the work, lacking the aptitude that would be theirs did they
inherit natures that descended from many generations of home builders.

Conditions under freedom, though an improvement on the past, have retarded
the proper development of the home life of the <DW64>. Often the <DW64>
husband, having been accustomed to seeing women labor, has no scruples as
to his wife's being a laborer, even when her home is full of children. The
<DW64> woman having been accustomed to work often continues to do so, after
her aid is no longer needed to help support the family.

The average home is small and housekeeping duties are not onerous. Not many
possess libraries, and reading is not much in vogue. Thus many work in
order to keep employed.

In other cases the scale of wages paid to the men is so very low that the
woman has to come to the rescue as a wage earner. This calls her from her
home and children.

It is often the case in large families that the united savings of the
husband and wife are insufficient to take care of the family wants, and
consequently the children are sent out to work.

The hours of toil for all classes of laborers are very long, so that
families are separated from early morning until after nightfall. So close
has been the confinement all the week that Sunday becomes the day for
general visiting and pleasure seeking. It is very evident that the home
life has but a fighting chance under such conditions. And yet other factors
are to be added.

The child being required to support himself early, assumes an air of
independence, and parental authority is correspondingly weakened.

The home life of the <DW64> is also quite largely affected by the peculiar
hold which the secret society has upon the race. The thought that he will
enter a realm where much wisdom abides operates to draw the <DW64> to the
secret society. Then, too, if he is a member of such a body, he has, in the
fact of membership, a passport bearing testimony as to his social standing.
Again, the aid furnished by these societies during sickness, and their
public displays upon the occasion of the burial of their members are strong
attractions for the <DW64>s of limited means and of little note. The <DW64>
not content with membership in one such organization usually joins as many
as his means will permit. The meetings of the societies are numerous and
are held at night, necessitating much absence from home on the part of both
the father and the mother. The lodge meeting also furnishes an excuse to
such husbands as may have other reasons for not spending evenings at home.

The weekly church services are held at night, calling for more time from
home. In view of all of which it is apparent that we are weak at the
foundation, the family life, and strenuous efforts are needed at this
point.

Our organization must employ an army of workers to co-operate with <DW64>
mothers in the work of home building. Christian institutions where <DW64>
boys and girls are being trained must be induced to pay especial attention
to the question of the <DW64>'s home. The laborers' working day must be
shortened, so that they may have more time at home. The white families must
be induced to have earlier suppers, so that those who cook for them may
return to their several homes the earlier.

The scale of wages must be increased so that the mother and children may be
exempt from the task of bread winning. With an increase in wages and the
consequent ability to save a portion of his earnings for the 'rainy day,'
the lodge will not be the absolute necessity to the <DW64> that it now
appears to him to be. Under these improved conditions the mother and the
father can the better co-operate and make the home what it must be. Our
racial organization must bend its energies in the direction to accomplish
these results. For one thing it must link its great influence to that of
the forces laboring for the improvement of the condition of the toiling
masses.


RELIGION A FACTOR.

In his very brilliant work on "Social Evolution," Benjamin Kidd remarks
that "there is not that direct connection between social development and
high intellectual development which has hitherto been almost universally
assumed to exist," and "that the wide interval between the peoples who have
attained the highest social development and the lowest, is not mainly the
result of a difference in intellectual, but a difference in ethical
development."

He further states that the human race "would, in fact, appear to be growing
more and more religious, the winning sections being those in which,
_caeteris paribus_, this type of character is most fully developed." He is
firmly of the opinion that "the evolution which is slowly proceeding in
society is not primarily intellectual, but religious in character."

The influence of religion upon a people's life is admittedly so great that
any program looking to betterment of their condition must take note of the
prevailing religious belief. The Christian religion was ingrafted upon our
racial life in the days of slavery. As we were in an abnormal state, it
should not occasion surprise if many did not get a normal grasp upon the
Christian religion.

In the days of slavery the <DW64> felt that his lot in this world was a
rather hopeless one. No where could he catch a glimmer of hope. To him the
earth was without form and void. But his optimistic nature had to be fed,
and the glories of the world to come, pictured in the Bible, to him became
a living reality. Thenceforth his mind rested not on earth. The death bed,
the funeral, the grave, the world to come, received the wealth of his
spiritual energies. As a natural result the bearings of religion on this
present life were lightly passed over, lethargic conditions ensued and the
spirit of wise prevision was in large measure absent. The morbid dwelling
of the mind of the <DW64> on anticipated worlds must be discountenanced; a
more rounded view of religion inculcated.

Without entering into sectarianism our racial organization must foster such
conceptions of religion as will make its ethical teachings, applicable to
life in this world, more prominent. With the home life cared for and proper
religious instruction guaranteed, our racial organization will have laid
secure foundations.


TO WEAR WELL OUR CROWN.

Our racial organization must bear in mind that we are struggling for
untrammeled freedom in the greatest government that human intellect has
ever evolved. Without proper culture we cannot meet the requirements of
worthy citizenship. We must pay especial attention to our public schools,
and see to it that knowledge shall not be lacking. The value that education
will be to the citizen is admirably outlined by Thomas Jefferson, in the
following words used in setting forth the purposes of education.

Education is intended:

     1. "To give every citizen the information he needs for
     the transaction of his own business.

     2. "To enable him to calculate for himself, and to
     express and preserve his ideas, his contracts and
     accounts in writing.

     3. "To improve, by reading, his morals and faculties.

     4. "To understand his duties to his neighbors and
     country, and to discharge with competence the functions
     confided to him by either.

     5. "To know his rights; to exercise with order and
     justice those he retains; to choose with discretion the
     fiduciary of those he delegates; and to notice their
     conduct with diligence, with candor and judgment. And
     in general to observe with intelligence and
     faithfulness all the social relations under which he
     shall be placed."

In order to insure the education of the masses, the following steps must be
taken:

     1. The <DW64>s must be stimulated to acquire taxable
     values to such an extent that the Southern States shall
     not administer the school funds for the <DW64>s with
     the feeling that they are making a charitable donation
     to the race.

     2. Night schools must be fostered for adults.

     3. Money must be provided for the lengthening of the
     school term.

     4. Salaries for teaching must be raised that a high
     order of talent may be the more easily enlisted.

     5. Books must be supplied to the children too poor to
     buy.

     6. Means must be instituted to prevent the too common
     habit of withdrawing the <DW64> child from school at so
     early an age to help support the family. These and such
     other measures as close scrutiny may from time to time
     suggest must be employed to make the public school
     system among the <DW64>s what it ought to be.


IN THE UPPER REALMS.

It is not enough to provide elementary training for our people. The great
minds of earth choose the devious pathways to be threaded by the wavering
feet of humanity. They pass upon what is true and what is false, what is
right and what is wrong, what is expedient and what is inexpedient.
Tremendous is the influence that has been exerted on human history by the
teachings of the great.

Through the training of the intellect the <DW64>s must develop men capable
of interpreting and influencing world movements, men able to adjust the
race to any new conditions that may arise. We need men to do for the <DW64>
race what Prof. Henry Drummond sought to do for the Christian religion. In
the upper chamber of the house of human knowledge, the congress of
scientists presided over by Charles Darwin, and representing the culture of
the ages, met to promulgate a new religion; a religion that would establish
Nature as our ethical teacher, pointing with the finger of evolution, the
way for man to go. By dint of patient, faithful labor and notable
achievements in the realm of science, Prof. Drummond secured admittance
into this upper chamber and took his seat at the council table. Soon the
world heard his voice proclaiming in the tone of one speaking with
authority that the new revelations of science contained no poison for
Christianity; that the new teacher, Nature, was the friend, not the enemy,
of the old teacher, the Bible. He declared that Evolution and Christianity
have "the same author, the same end and the same spirit."

Thus Drummond was on hand to seek to stay the Darwinian hand, if, after
shattering other conceptions, it had attempted to demolish the one worship
that modern civilization has thus far failed to destroy.

To prepare <DW64>s for taking care of our interests in the realms of
highest thought, our racial organization must found universities, liberally
endow scholarships, provide equipments for original investigations and so
foster the cause of higher education that no race can boast of superior
intellectual attainments.


"OF MAKING MANY BOOKS THERE IS NO END."

Books are the means by which each successive generation comes into
possession of the best (of which the records have been kept) that was
wrought during all preceding generations of human endeavor. Not only does
the art of printing thus connect with all that was good in the past, but it
also affords a man the opportunity of becoming a part of all that is being
done in his day.

In view of these considerations it is evident that a race that does not
read must ever be a laggard race. Our racial organization must, therefore,
found libraries throughout the regions in which <DW64>s dwell, to the end
that we may have the benefit of all the elevating influences of good
literature.

Our problem is, however, deeper than the mere founding of libraries, as is
apparent from the following considerations: During their sojourn in America
the great majority of <DW64>s have had such work assigned to them as
required much bodily exercise. But a comparatively few have led sedentary
lives. The laboring <DW64>s have been accustomed to sing as they worked or
have relieved the monotony of their labors by jovial bantering. The
occupations of a race eventually make themselves felt in more or less
marked racial characteristics.

Thus, when a cotton factory was established recently to be operated by
<DW64> labor, it failed, the manager assigning as a partial cause thereof
the fact that the <DW64>s did not make the best operatives, in that sitting
still and being quiet caused them to be rather listless and sleepily
inclined. While, in other instances, tendencies in that direction have
perhaps been overcome, this one case serves to suggest that the inattention
to reading on the part of so many may be traceable to the same inherited
indisposition to sit still and be quiet, necessary concomitants of the
reading habit.

Our racial organization must not, therefore, feel that its labors are
complete when the libraries are founded. Systematic efforts must be put
forth to create in our people a thirst for reading so that they may have
ears to hear what the past and present are thundering at us.


WE EAT TO LIVE.

However brave, brilliant and resourceful a general commanding an army may
be, however loyal and enthusiastic are his soldiers, he must inevitably
fail if he neglects his commissary department. The cravings of the human
stomach must be provided for or there will be no soul left in the emaciated
body to aspire for higher things.

In arranging, therefore, for the welfare of the race our racial
organization must not neglect the material needs of our people. An
advancing army must protect at all hazzards its base of supplies. We now
outline a course of action in keeping with this thought.

The man who knows that there is a prejudice against him, owes it to himself
to so contrive that he shall be as nearly as possible independent of the
workings of this prejudice. <DW64>s, therefore, should, in the main, seek
those callings in which they shall be above the whims and prejudices of
men.

The land owner, the farmer, can come as near to being independent of his
fellows as a man may in these days attain. The sun, the elements, the soil,
his own strong arm, are his chief reliance and these forces are not subject
to enslavement, nor can prejudice weaken them. Nature has no favorites
among men. The rains fall upon the just and the unjust alike. Back to the
farms, therefore, should in a large measure be our cry. With a strong
agricultural backbone the position of the race is much the more secure. The
conditions that operated to cause the <DW64>s to so largely abandon the
farms must be studied and altered when possible.

Our racial organization shall give due recognition to the following needs,
doing all that is necessary to see that they are attained:

     1. The <DW64> must become the owner of the soil he
     tills.

     2. He must be placed above the conditions of dire
     necessity that causes him to resort to the credit
     system of buying and the mortgaging of his crops, which
     things have hitherto wrought his ruin.

     3. Provisions must be made whereby he may secure modern
     appliances with which to farm.

     4. He must be educated so that he may know how to
     obtain the best possible results from the soil.

     5. He must be taught to keep fully posted upon the
     important happenings in the commercial world bearing
     upon his interests.

     6. The <DW64> must join hands with the students of the
     agricultural problem in general, ready to avail himself
     of any new developments of value that may arise.


LITTLE AFRICAS.

In practically every Southern city there are certain sections inhabited
almost exclusively by the poorer, shiftless, more ignorant class of
<DW64>s. The houses in these <DW64> settlements are small, dilapidated and
often situated in marshy regions. The streets or alleys thereof are narrow
and crooked and destitute of drainage. In such sections barrooms thrive,
gambling dens flourish, and gathering places are afforded for lewd women
and vicious men. By day <DW64> women in filthy, unbecoming attire,
barefooted and bareheaded, congregate in the street and engage in loud,
unseemly talk. Idle <DW64> men are to be seen lounging around these
settlements. Garbage is emptied into the streets there to remain. Such
settlements as these breed disease and are menaces to the health of the
cities. They are the places where crimes and criminals of all kinds are
developed. They mar the beauty of the cities and keep down the price of
real estate in their neighborhoods. They do much to bring the whole <DW64>
race into disrepute. A revolution must be wrought in these settlements at
all hazards. The more refined among the <DW64>s must be employed to labor
among the masses and thus ameliorate the ills herein set forth. Tracts of
land should be purchased just beyond corporate limits, in easy access to
the business centers. Commodious houses should be constructed and sold to
the <DW64>s at moderate prices and on easy terms.


"YE HAVE THE POOR WITH YOU ALWAYS."

The earnings of the <DW64>s being small, they have but little opportunity
to accumulate a surplus for old age and decrepitude. This evil is
accentuated by improvidence. So long as these conditions exist, there must
be aged <DW64>s unable to take care of themselves. For these homes should
be established.

Orphan Asylums are sadly needed and must be provided for the tens of
thousands of young cast adrift annually through the deaths of impoverished
parents. At present youthful <DW64> offenders are sent to prisons where they
are in daily contact with hardened criminals. Reformatories must be
established where these beginners in crime may be lured from the paths of
vice, instead of being the better educated for evil as at present.

Comparisons unfavorable to the <DW64> have been so often instituted that the
passion for appearing as well or better than the whites has taken hold of
many. Living side by side with a wealthy rival race, the <DW64> often
overstrains himself in an endeavor to keep well in sight of the white man.
As outgrowths of this condition their church houses, very often, their
dwellings, the furnishings for their homes, their dress are wont to cost
more than their earnings would warrant. There are money-seeking men who
have discovered the depths of this desire of the <DW64> to appear well.

They have formed loan companies and accept mortgages on all sorts of
possessions of the <DW64>s and exact rates of interest that are astounding.

Dealers in various lines of ware do not hesitate to sell to the <DW64>s the
most costly articles on the installment plan, taking care to place charges
thereon far above their real value. Thus the meagre earnings of the race
are so largely absorbed in the manner indicated. It means perpetual poverty
to the masses unless corrected.

<DW64>s must be taught to live simply, in keeping with their financial
condition. Penny saving banks must everywhere be established, and forces
set to work to urge the <DW64>s to save their money, thus counteracting the
influence of the myriad loan offices that tempt them to their financial
ruin.


THE WINDS HAVE VEERED.

The age in which we live is fast shifting from a basis in which brute force
is a great factor, to one in which skill and intelligence are the prime
essentials. The day of the man who has naught to offer save his native
strength is fast drawing to a close, and his night is all but upon us.

The general refinement of taste requiring a higher order of intelligence to
satisfy it; the inventive genius of man bringing into use complicated
machinery--these are influences at work rendering necessary a greater
measure of skill and a higher order of intelligence in the modern laborer.

If the <DW64> would not be lost in the shift of the age, he must be trained
with a view to the requirements of modern civilization. To this end
Technological schools must be established throughout the South and other
centers of <DW64> labor.


"THE FIELD IS THE WORLD."

The <DW64>s have evinced a keen desire for education, until now there are
more educated young men and women than there is congenial labor for them.
The schools have sent them forth far faster than conditions have permitted
them to be absorbed.

The <DW64> parent that has to submit to great privations to educate his
child, viewing education from the simple standpoint of its ability to
afford a livelihood, has now under consideration the advisability of
continuing his effort to educate his offspring. The pupil, confronted with
so many of his fellows that have gone through school and failed of
congenial employment, is inclined to lay down his books and bring his
school days to a close. To relieve this very annoying congestion, <DW64>s
must invade all the avenues of trade and found enterprises that will give
employment to the trained members of the race. The labor of the race is
fully able to sustain all branches of endeavor incident to civilized life.

Simultaneous with this development of the home field, Puerto Rico, Cuba,
Hawaii, the Philippines and Africa must be utilized to relieve this
congestion.

The well equipped young men and women must be inoculated with more of the
pioneer spirit.


WHERE THE GALE BLOWS FIERCEST.

In labor, business, social and religious circles, a citizen is at liberty
to avoid contact with an undesirable neighbor if he so elects. As these
constitute the bulk of the activities of the American people, the normal
relation of the <DW64>s and whites is a peaceful one. But there are points
where contact is unavoidable.

We have a common political structure, common courts and common public
utilities. At these points all citizens must meet and such friction as
arises comes mainly from these sources. We now outline the program to be
carried out by our racial organization at these points, beginning with the
ballot box.

The United States is pre-eminently a political country, politics occupying
a relatively large space in the public mind. With the national thought
focused on politics, in that arena a man is more sorely tried, his powers
put to more severe tests, his strong and his weak points more clearly
developed than in any other sphere of activity. He who emerges from the
galling fire of American politics unscathed, must be accorded a crown of
unfading glory.

To illustrate the ordeal through which one must pass, we cite the following
comment:

"In turning over the files of the American press, we read of Washington as
an embezzler; of Jefferson as an atheist, an anarchist and a libertine; of
Adams as a tyrant; and of Jackson as a bully, a border ruffian and an
assassin. Van Buren was accused of stealing gold spoons from the 'White
House.' The stock epithet applied to President Lincoln was the 'Illinois
baboon.' President Johnson was habitually described as a 'drunken boor.'
What was said by the newspapers of our later Presidents, from General Grant
to Mr. Cleveland, is fresh in the memory of every person of mature age. How
utterly insincere is all this hideous abuse may be seen in the fact that it
is hushed into silence as soon as the object of it passes out of the
political arena into private life. No breath of it ever lingers in the
allusions that are thereafter made to him by even the bitterest of his late
opponents."

The <DW64> has assuredly received his full measure of blows from the hand
of America's master passion. When the <DW64> stepped into the arena to play
his part he had to encounter the feeling of caste, which insisted that he
was inherently disqualified to enter, the claim being set up that nature
had forever decreed against him in this respect. He was met with violence,
with fraud, and vituperation, with misrepresentation, with disregard for
all the forms of law. The votes which he sought to cast in his own favor
were boldly appropriated to the opposition. His cupidity was tempted, his
every weakness exploited. His virtues were minimized and his shortcomings
exaggerated and unduly paraded. This treatment of the <DW64> was not
necessarily special. It was in keeping with the rules of American politics
in which the Darwinian law of the survival of the fittest everywhere
obtains.

In view of the galling fire which all participants in America who enter
politics must encounter, our racial organization will be confronted with a
serious task in the formulation of the political program for the <DW64>.

The following suggestions will afford a basis for the projecting of a
policy that will enable the race to take care of itself at this, the most
crucial, the really pivotal point in its battle for honorable station.

The difficulties in the way must not influence the <DW64> to regard the
political tree as bearing forbidden fruit, as regards himself. Such a
course would be an acceptance of the 'class' system, which is contrary to
the genius of American institutions.

There is a development that comes from the contemplation of and the
participation in the affairs of State. Much of the superiority of the
American civilization is due to the fact that its citizens as a body are
treated as sovereigns, educated with a view to the fact that they are to
pass upon most grave and intricate problems.

Again, as an encouragement to civic virtues the <DW64> youth, like other
youths, must be allowed to feel that the social group which he is expected
to serve, is permitted to reward him if his faithfulness to the needs of
the group justify such a course. Thus the political door, through which a
man enters to receive rewards from the State acting as a body, must never
be closed to the <DW64>. Far be it from the <DW64>s to ever yield so vital a
point. Instead of counselling retirement from politics, our racial
organization is to arrange for a wiser participation therein.

The manner of the emancipation of the <DW64> was most unfortunate indeed. It
should have come from the nation as a whole, or should have been the direct
result of the <DW64>'s own efforts, if he was to begin his career as a
citizen under ideal circumstances. As it is, he has been caused to feel
that he owes a debt of gratitude to one party, so great as to constitute a
perpetual mortgage. The <DW64> must shake himself loose from all such
feelings if he is to be a true citizen. He must put the nation above the
party even if that party is accredited with having done him a personal
service. Nor must he be influenced by hatred of the party that in the past
was associated with his humiliation.

When our national government was but beginning its career in the family of
nations, George Washington warned it against the undue cultivation of love
and hatred. Said he in his farewell address:

"Cultivate peace and harmony with all. Nothing is more essential than that
permanent, inveterate antipathies against particular nations and passionate
attachments for others should be excluded, and that in place of them just
and amicable feelings toward all should be cultivated. The nation which
indulges toward another an habitual hatred or an habitual fondness is in
some degree a slave. It is a slave to its animosity or its affection,
either of which is sufficient to lead it astray from its duty and its
interest."

He could say this and desire its application to both England and France,
though the former had fought against and the latter for the establishment
of the republic.

Our racial organization must teach the <DW64> to observe this rule with
regard to all existing political parties. Let an unbiased study of present
and prospective policies influence party affiliations, rather than love and
hatred based upon a past forever dead.

It is not wise for the <DW64>s to aspire to exercise political influence in
proportion to mere numbers with a view to securing _race_ triumphs. Good
government, pure and simple, and not race supremacy, must be the end
forever sought. The right to rule must be accorded to the intelligence, to
the moral and material worth of every community as ascertained with regard
to the whole body of the people, whites and <DW64>s. No man white or black
must be supported or opposed on account of his color.

The ranks of the <DW64>s must cease to be the place of refuge and the means
of power for the renegade weaklings from the camps of the whites, whose
only impelling motive is greed for the emoluments of office, and whose only
recommendation is the color of the skin. The white face in <DW64> ranks must
cease to bring a premium with the <DW64>s. That face, like all others, must
be adjudged purely upon its merits. The <DW64>s must convince the better
element of Southern whites that they will not take up and honor worthless
white men rightfully cast off or denied distinction in and by their own
race.

Again, the <DW64>s must not center their political activities on the mere
holding of offices. The office is not always the real seat of political
power. In American politics it is sometimes the political boss, sometimes
the party caucus, sometimes the committee of the law-making body, that is
the actual determining factor in matters.

The <DW64> must make a study of the larger needs of the people and persist
in making himself felt at the most effective point. Though not holding
office himself he may yet exert a wholesome influence on the man that does,
if he but act wisely.

It is said of American politics as a whole, that the best citizens are too
largely holding aloof. It is urged that the law making bodies do not any
longer represent the highest mental and moral development of the people.
Even if the good and strong of other groups of Americans are adopting such
a course, the better element of <DW64>s cannot afford to follow the
example.

The interests of the race in matters political must not be left to those
least qualified for the responsibilities. Men, good and true, the ablest of
the race, must be induced to make the necessary sacrifices and enter
politics with a view to taking care at this point of the honor and welfare
of the race. Unworthy and incompetent men in the race must be given a back
seat, and their influence neutralized in political affairs, the place where
we are peculiarly on trial, and where so much may be won or lost.

Finally, knowing that our hereditary influences and environments in the
past were not such as were best adapted to preparing a people
temperamentally for self-government; knowing that America is infested with
a strong color prejudice; knowing that the <DW64>'s own record as a voter
and lawmaker is not altogether in his own favor; knowing the difficulties
that naturally arise from the attempts to blend such widely divergent race
types into a common political life; knowing how galling is the fire upon
any one who has the temerity to enter the arena of American politics;
knowing these things, the guiding star of the <DW64>, the light from which
his eye must never wander, is Caution. Others with less to lose may "play
the game of politics" lightly, but the <DW64> must give to the task the
highest there is in him.

That the policy herein set forth may be carried out; that the <DW64> may be
prepared to demean himself nobly in the maelstrom of American politics, our
racial organization shall create a non-partisan bureau that shall
thoroughly educate the <DW64> as to his own history; as to the history of
the Anglo-Saxon race; as to our form of government; as to our political
parties; as to all the problems confronting our nation; as to the
predominating racial instincts of the Anglo-Saxon race which are often in
reality more of a governing force with us than mere written laws.


WITH THE HEN GOES HER BROOD.

With the adjustment of the political question will come an era of good
feeling which will operate to ameliorate other conditions.

The <DW64> complains that the courts of the South are arrayed against him;
that he does not receive there the treatment accorded to other citizens. So
much of this as is true is traceable to the fact that the courts are at
present sustained by the same race feeling which has for its end the
suppression of the <DW64>.

When the <DW64> again becomes a political factor and the court is made
amenable to <DW64> public sentiment in common with the rest of the
community, care will then be taken that evenhanded justice is meted out to
all. Under such conditions the <DW64>s and white men of the South will be
in a frame of mind to meet and join hands for the protection of womanhood,
for the suppression of lynching, for the extirpation of criminality in
general.

Chief among the reforms to be inaugurated will be the improvement of the
very deplorable prison systems, which being operated with a view to
producing revenue, are a blot upon our civilization.

When better feelings prevail, the laws regulating public utilities will be
such as conform to the desires of the best citizens of all races.

Thus it will be seen how many of the ills that ramified the whole of
Southern life were generated from the strife that had its origin at the
ballot box.


THE PROBLEM OF THE OTHER MAN.

With our racial organization thus laboring to prepare the race to meet the
highest requirements of civilization, the subjective phase of the problem
is provided for, and we may now direct our attention to extrinsic factors,
the forces without, that must be reckoned with.

In the midst of the study of _our_ problem, our racial organization must
bear in mind the fact that the Southern white man has _his_ problem. He is
the lineal descendant of the builders of our civilization. We are heirs
thereof by adoption; the Southern white man by birth. It must be assumed
that the instincts that make possible our civilization are more deeply
written in his nature than in that of the <DW64>. To him primarily,
therefore, is committed the task of preserving in the Southland
characteristic Americanism. Thus while benefiting by the many noble traits
which the <DW64> brings, the Southern white man must yet resist whatever
Africanizing tendencies that anywhere show themselves. Such is the Southern
white man's problem.

There are <DW64>s that can meet every test of civilization, while there are
others upon whom residence in America has wrought but feebly. The Southern
white man closes the door in the face of the prepared <DW64>, holding that
to do otherwise would mean the influx of an uncontrollable mass of the
unprepared. He also states that coercive methods are necessary to preserve
in the South the Anglo-Saxon flavor to our civilization.

The virile elements in all communities are in duty bound to draw the weaker
ones up to themselves, but indiscriminate repression and coercion are not
the proper means to be employed in these modern times. The weak are to be
elevated through the superior forces known to mind and morals.

It is far better for the South and for the nation that the shortcomings of
the <DW64> be conquered by excellencies, than that they should be left as a
constantly rising flood tide destined to over-leap all walls whatsoever,
carrying devastation that many generations will be taxed to repair. The
white man of the South must be aided in his work by the people of the whole
land. In view of what is required of them, the white people of the South
ought, perhaps, to be more highly and more generally educated than those of
any other section of the country, whereas the percentage of illiteracy
among them is greater than it is in any other section.

Our racial organization must encourage the philanthropists of the world to
remember the white people of the South in the distribution of their wealth
for benevolent purposes. When education is more general in the South and
the white people are conscious that as an aggregation they represent a
higher degree of power, they will feel the more inclined to abandon the
policy of force, and proceed with the work of intellectually assimilating
the <DW64>s whom they have hitherto thrust out. When thus equipped the good
and strong in the South will coalesce and rule by the sheer force of
superior worth, which is the only method countenanced by truly civilized
peoples.

Recognizing the fact that, in the interests of a composite American
civilization, it is desirable that the <DW64> be imbued with many of the
qualities of the white man, care should be taken that the <DW64> population
be so diffused throughout the country, that no section of the white race
shall have more work of this character than it can well perform. Our racial
organization shall therefore establish an emigration bureau, that shall
drain off unduly congested regions and locate <DW64>s in more desirable
localities. This lightening of the burdens of some places, coupled with the
program of more extended education, will aid the Southern white man to do
what the world expects of him, namely, preserve his own strong parts and
impart strength to, not repress, the weak.

Thus less and less grow the essential elements of the problem as the great
bulk of the <DW64>s measure up to the standard of the ideal citizen and the
Southern white man is the better prepared to shoulder the responsibility
that attaches to the post of seniority in the civilization under which we
live.


OUR LAST FOE.

When all essential factors in the situation have been cancelled our racial
organization will find that there remains to be overthrown pride of race,
prejudice and self-interest. The Anglo-Saxon race has so long enjoyed the
thought of superiority over the <DW64>, that there will be those to oppose
the unfettering of the <DW64> through the sheer force of race pride. There
will be others who will continue in opposition, as a result of prejudice,
for which they can assign absolutely no reason. There will still be others
who have profited by race antagonisms, who have come into place and power
by their ability to crush out <DW64> aspirations. An era of peace would rob
this class of an occupation, and self-interest will influence them to
oppose the untrammeling of the <DW64>.

Against pride of race, prejudice and selfishness, then, our racial
organization will find itself pitted in the last instance.

Here, again, we are face to face with a situation that calls for somewhat
of a change of front on the part of the <DW64>. In the days of slavery the
<DW64> who sought for freedom fixed his eye upon the "North Star" and
journeyed thitherward. When freedom at last came to the <DW64> in the South
it came from Northern climes. His mind has grown accustomed to looking to
forces external to the South to bring him his desires.

Enlightened communities are in great measure self-governing, and too much
reliance must not be placed on foreign forces. The <DW64> must more largely
seek to utilize forces present in the Southland. There are broadminded men
there that are able to rise above all considerations of pride, prejudice
and selfishness, and deal with all men according to the mandates of the
Golden Rule.

Our racial organization must form an alliance with such white
neighbors--must labor with them in matters looking to the highest interests
of our common country. As evidence that there is a possibility of such an
alliance, we quote the following from "The Washington Post," a leading
newspaper in the nation's capital, and a recognized champion of Southern
interests: "So far as we are concerned--and we believe that the best
element of the South in every State will sustain our proposition--we hold
that, as between the ignorant of the two races, the <DW64>s are preferable.
They are conservative; they are good citizens; they take no stock in
social schisms and vagaries; they do not consort with anarchists; they
cannot be made the tools and agents of incendiaries. * * * Their influence
in government would be infinitely more wholesome than the influence of the
white sansculotte, the riffraff, the idlers, the rowdies, and the outlaws."


MIGHTIER THAN THE SWORD.

While paying strict attention to our home influences, we must not be
unmindful of the outside world. If we can bring to bear upon the local
situation the moral support of other sections of our country and of other
civilized lands, our travel in the direction sought will be the faster. One
of the chief labors of our racial organization will be to lay the case of
the <DW64> upon the heart of the world and cause all humanity to lift a
voice in our behalf. As evidence that this course is pregnant with hope, we
cite the following authorities:

Herbert Spencer designates "the control exercised by public sentiment over
conduct at large" as "irresistible." He further says: "It requires only to
contemplate the social code which regulates life, down even to the color of
an evening necktie, and to note how those who dare not break this code have
no hesitation in smuggling, to see that an unwritten law enforced by
opinion, is more peremptory than a written law not so enforced. And still
more on observing that men disregard the just claims of creditors, who for
goods given cannot get the money, while they are anxious to discharge
so-called debts of honor to those who have rendered neither goods nor
services, we are shown that the control of prevailing sentiment, unenforced
by law and religion, may be more potent than law and religion together,
when they are backed by sentiment less strongly manifested. Looking at the
total activities of men, we are obliged to admit, that they are still, as
they were at the outset, guided by the aggregate feeling, past and
present."

Huxley remarks: "It is only needful to look around us to see that the
greatest restrainers of the anti-social tendencies of men is fear, not of
the law, but of the opinions of their fellows. The conventions of honor
bind men who break legal, moral and religious bonds; and while people
endure the extremity of pain rather than part with life, shame drives the
weakest to suicide."

Moses, recognizing the influence of the crowd even when in the wrong, felt
the necessity of imbedding in the Jewish code this declaration: "Thou shalt
not follow a multitude to do evil."

Jesus Christ in projecting a world-wide kingdom designates public
reprobation as the highest form of punishment to be known in his realm.
"Let him be unto thee as an heathen man and a publican."

The exponents in the Anglo-Saxon race, of justice, liberty, equality and
progress, have contended most zealously for the freedom of the press and
have evinced in every way a keen appreciation of the value of this
instrumentality developed among them for the utilization of the force of
public sentiment. In discussing the manner of effecting results in problems
of the general nature of ours, Benjamin Kidd remarks: "* * * * In like
manner the effect produced on the minds of the British people by
descriptions of the wrongs and sufferings of oppressed nationalities, has
been one of the most powerful influences affecting the foreign policy of
England throughout the nineteenth century; and any close student of our
politics during this period would have to note that this influence, so far
as the will of the people found expression through the government in power,
has been a far more potent factor in shaping that policy than any clear
conception of those far reaching political motives so often attributed to
the British nation by other countries."

Resolved upon the enlistment of the enlightened sentiment of the world, our
racial organization must utilize the talent of the race for oratory and
send able men with burning hearts to speak with flaming tongues of such
wrongs as the South wittingly or unwittingly imposes upon us. <DW64>
newspapers must be supported, until their unquestioned excellence makes a
way for them into homes without regard to race. Daily newspapers and
magazines, favorable to the highest interests of the race, must be
established so that the outpourings of the souls of <DW64> writers may have
better opportunities of reaching the world. The poem, the novel, the drama
must be pressed into service. The painter, the sculptor, the musical
composer must plead our cause in the world of aesthetics. The bird that
would live must thrill the huntsman with its song. With the sympathies of
the world thus enkindled, there are none who would wish to withhold our
rights. Even a Cain cries out against a situation in which every man's hand
would be against him. Our racial organization must gird itself for the
stupendous task of thus winning our great battle, of thus inducing the iron
hand to relax its grasp.


THE END DRAWETH NIGH.

Such is the program of endeavor to be set before our great racial
organization. Local organizations modeled after it, having in view similar
aims will be created and put in operation. It is evident that the task
before us involves the expenditure of enormous sums of money. It is true
that the organization once in operation would be cheerfully and adequately
supported by the <DW64>s. But the placing of it upon such a basis as will
disclose its value and secure devotion will require great sums of money.

It so happens that Africa has but recently bestowed upon me, Dorlan
Warthell, untold millions. I have no qualms of conscience in thus applying
to the <DW64>s of America funds derived from Africa, for I firmly believe
with Mr. Wm. T. Stead in the Americanization of the globe, and believe that
in due time the <DW64>s of America are to be the immediate agents of the
Americanization of Africa. Money spent in the uplift of the American <DW64>
is, therefore, an investment in the interests of Africa that will pay a
glorious dividend. Once established our organization shall win such a hold
on the hearts of the <DW64>s of the world that the poor and the rich will
give unstintedly for its maintenance. The philanthropists within the race
may be confidently relied upon to do all that may be justly expected of
them in the matter.

It only remains for me to state that I have, after a most careful search,
selected the men whose names you find appended. They constitute a
provisional congress that will superintend the formation of our permanent
organization. The men chosen are noted for their intellectual acumen,
broad grasp of affairs, judicial temperament, constructive ability, moral
probity, and their capacity for sustained endeavor. Such are the qualities
that are _known_ to characterize the men who have been chosen to groom this
infant race to march as one man to the drum beat of fate.

As I view the matter, here lies before the <DW64> a field of endeavor as
great as the earth affords. He is provided with a sphere of possible
activity wherein may be won on American soil, as glorious a crown as was
ever woven for human brow.

Equipped with an organization that can amass the full strength of the race;
blessed with the presence of great minds now furnished with facilities for
the attainment of great ends; cheered by a consciousness of power; aided by
the moral effect which our racial unity and our insistent attitude in the
right will produce; moving forward unfalteringly in the direction of all
that is true and good, decisive results must surely follow.

Thanks to this plan, Morlene, I can now assure you that the death knell of
the <DW64>'s night has been rung, the stars have shrunk bashfully out of
sight, and happy fingers are even now painting the eastern sky a golden
hue, a sure sign that the dawn is here.

Yours humbly,

DORLAN WARTHELL



***