r and tears rub elbows day by day, and the spirit of labour and
laziness shake hands, there--there--is Happy Hollow, and of some of it
may the following pages show the heart.

The Author.

_One_

THE SCAPEGOAT

I

The law is usually supposed to be a stern mistress, not to be lightly
wooed, and yielding only to the most ardent pursuit. But even law, like
love, sits more easily on some natures than on others.

This was the case with Mr. Robinson Asbury. Mr. Asbury had started life
as a bootblack in the growing town of Cadgers. From this he had risen
one step and become porter and messenger in a barber-shop. This rise
fired his ambition, and he was not content until he had learned to use
the shears and the razor and had a chair of his own. From this, in a man
of Robinson's temperament, it was only a step to a shop of his own, and
he placed it where it would do the most good.

Fully one-half of the population of Cadgers was composed of Negroes, and
with their usual tendency to colonise, a tendency encouraged, and in
fact compelled, by circumstances, they had gathered into one part of
the town. Here in alleys, and streets as dirty and hardly wider, they
thronged like ants.

It was in this place that Mr. Asbury set up his shop, and he won the
hearts of his prospective customers by putting up the significant sign,
"Equal Rights Barber-Shop." This legend was quite unnecessary, because
there was only one race about, to patronise the place. But it was a
delicate sop to the people's vanity, and it served its purpose.

Asbury came to be known as a clever fellow, and his business grew. The
shop really became a sort of club, and, on Saturday nights especially,
was the gathering-place of the men of the whole Negro quarter. He kept
the illustrated and race journals there, and those who cared neither to
talk nor listen to someone else might see pictured the doings of high
society in very short skirts or read in the Negro papers how Miss Boston
had entertained Miss Blueford to tea on such and such an afternoon.
Also, he kept the policy returns, which was wise, if not moral.

It was his wisdom rather more than his morality that made the party
managers after a while cast their glances toward him as a man who might
be useful to their interests. It would be well to have a man--a shrewd,
powerful man--down in that part of the town who could carry his people's
vote in his vest pocket, and who at any time its delivery might