in Georgia, a good nigger,
signing his name as Shaw sent to a certain Southern paper an article
commending the action of the mob, and expressing a willingness to have
held their coats while the dastardly act was performed. Did this man
know that Sam Hose committed the crime for which he suffered such a
horrible death? Can men capable of committing such deeds as the burning
and mutilating the body of this wretch be relied upon for truth? If
Cranford was one of that mob of cowards who shot to death those manacled
men at Palmetto, the knocking out of his brains would have made a man of
another race a hero.

Calvin Sauls, who had heretofore been a kind of an independent, having
at various times voted with Democrats, Populists, Green-backers and
Republicans, had shown a disposition to be earnestly interested in
Republican success in the campaign of 1898. Running here and there,
attending primaries and committee meetings, full of information as to
the movements of the enemy, he had worked his way into the confidence of
these unwary colored politicians, who considered him an earnest worker
for the cause of Republicanism, so much so that he had been admitted
into the headquarters of the Executive Committee on that evening. "And
Judas, having received the sop, went immediately out, and it was night."
No one noticed Calvin Sauls on that night, as he, taking the advantage
of a moment of exciting debate, slipped out into the darkness, and made
his way into the Democratic headquarters. At the corner of Fourth and
Chestnut streets a dark figure stepped out from the darkness and
confronted him. "Hello dar, Calvin Sauls!" said a gruff voice. "Where is
you sneakin' ter? You got er few uv us fool, but not all. Goin' down ter
tell wa't you foun' out at de committee meet'n, eh?" "O, g'wan way f'm
me, man; I got dese white fo'ks bizness ter ten' ter." The man seized
Sauls and held on to him. "Look er here, some women waited at de corner
of Red Cross an' Fourth street to beat yo' las' night." "Wa' fer?" asked
Sauls, trying to free himself from the man's grasp. "Fur trying ter
suade dey dauters down ter dat Fayette Club for dem white mens." "It's
er no sich ting!" "You lie, you louse!" exclaimed the man, loosening his
hold, and shoving Sauls nearly off the sidewalk. Sauls, recovering,
staggered on his way.

Ben Hartright leaned against a post on the veranda of the Democratic
Club's meeting place when Calvin Sauls came up. "Why hello, Calvin,