ro who had in early life been a member of the family of the
father of Senator Vance. In a little cabin at the foot of the
mountain, "Uncle Ephraim," as the old negro was familiarly called,
was, as he had been for two or three decades, "living on borrowed time."
How old he was no man could tell. When in confidential mood, he
would sometimes tell of the troubles he and his old master used to
have with the Tories during the Revolutionary War.

Mr. Vance, in his first race for Congress, having finished his
speech at the cross-roads near by, visited the old man, from whom,
of course, he received a warm welcome. In reply to the inquiry of
his visitor as to how he was getting along, the old negro slowly
replied:

"Mighty po'ly, mighty po'ly, Mause Zeb, mighty po'ly forninst
the things of dis world, but it's all right over yander, over
yander."

"What church do you belong to, Uncle Ephraim?" said Vance.

"Well, Mause Zeb, I's a Presbyterian."

"Uncle Ephraim," said Vance with great solemnity, "do you believe in
the doctrine of _election?"_

After a pause and with equal solemnity, the old man responded:
"Mause Zeb, I don't pertend to understand fully the ins and outs
of dat doctrine, but 'cordin' to my understandin', it's de doctrine
of de Bible, and I bleebes it."

"Uncle Ephraim," said Vance, "do you think I have been _elected?"_

"Mause Zeb," said the old man in pathetic tone, "ef it's jest de
same to you, I would a leetle ruther you would wifdraw dat question.
I's poorty ole and gittn' a little too near de grabe to tell a lie,
but de fac am, I bin livin' round in dese parts nigh onto a hundred
years and knowed a heap of de big mens dat's dead and gone, and
I neber yet knowed nor hear tell of no man bein' 'lected, _what
wan't a candidate."_

Like many other orators of his party, Senator Vance found the
position of champion of the Democratic nominee for President in
1872 one of extreme embarrassment. A story he occasionally
told, however, relieved the situation greatly. He said: "My
fellow-citizens, I am somewhat in the position of an old-time
illiterate backwoods preacher, who was with great difficulty able to
read off, after a fashion, one favorite hymn at which his book
always opened at the opportune moment. One Sunday morning, just
before the beginning of the services, some mischievous boys, not
having the fear of the Lord before their eyes, got hold of the book
and pasted 'Old Grimes' over the favorite