you be brutal to him? Can you
expect me to tend you when you are sick, if you beat a dying man? Does
Pompey say you should do such things?"

"No, good ma'am," said the old preacher, stepping out, with the freedom
of an old servant, from the black mass, and taking his stand beside me
in the open space left for the "w'ite folks;" "de ole man dusn't say
dat, ma'am; he tell 'em dat de Lord want 'em to forgib dar en'mies--to
lub dem dat pursyskute 'em;" and, turning to the Colonel, he added, as
he passed his hand meekly over his thin crop of white wool and threw his
long heel back, "ef massa'll 'low me I'll talk to 'em."

"Fire away," said the Colonel, with evident chagrin. "This is a nigger
trial; if you want to screen the d---- hound you can do it."

"I dusn't want to screed him, massa, but I'se bery ole and got soon to
gwo, and I dusn't want de blessed Lord to ax me wen I gets dar why I
'lowed dese pore ig'nant brack folks to mudder a man 'fore my bery
face. I toted you, massa, 'fore you cud gwo, I'se worked for you till I
can't work no more; and I dusn't want to tell de Lord dat _my_ massa let
a brudder man be killed in cole blood."

"He is no brother of mine, you old fool; preach to the nigs, don't
preach to me," said the Colonel, stifling his displeasure, and striding
off through the black crowd, without saying another word.

Here and there in the dark mass a face showed signs of relenting; but
much the larger number of that strange jury, had the question been put,
would have voted--DEATH.

The old preacher turned to them as the Colonel passed out, and said, "My
chil'ren, would you hab dis man whipped, so weak, so dyin' as he am, ef
he war brack?"

"No, not ef he war a darky--fer den he wouldn't be such an ole debble,"
replied Jim, and about a dozen of the other negroes.

"De w'ite aint no wuss dan de brack--we'm all 'like--pore sinners all on
us. De Lord wudn't whip a w'ite man no sooner dan a brack one--He tinks
de w'ite juss so good as de brack (good Southern doctrine, I thought).
De porest w'ite trash wudn't strike a man wen he war down."

"We'se had 'nough of dis, ole man," said a large, powerful negro (one of
the drivers), stepping forward, and, regardless of the presence of Madam
P---- and myself, pressing close to where the overseer lay, now totally
unconscious of what was passing around him. "You needn't preach no more;
de Cunnel hab say we'm to whip ole Moye, and we'se gwine to do it,
by ----."

I