rity and he bemoaned the tendency loud and long. His son Tom did
not tell him that he had gone to the meeting himself and had been one
of those to come out shaking his head in acquiescent doubt at the
truths he had heard. But he went, as in duty bound, to his father's
meeting.

The church was one thronging mass of colored citizens. On the
platform, from which the pulpit had been removed, sat Deacon Swift and
his followers. On each side of him were banners bearing glowing
inscriptions. One of the banners which the schoolmistress had prepared
read:

"His temples are our forts and towers which frown upon a tyrant
foe."

The schoolmistress taught in a mixed school. They had mixed it by
giving her a room in a white school where she had only colored pupils.
Therefore she was loyal to her party, and was known as a woman of
public spirit.

* * * * *

The meeting was an enthusiastic one, but no such demonstration was
shown through it all as when old Deacon Swift himself arose to address
the assembly. He put Moses Jackson in the chair, and then as he walked
forward to the front of the platform a great, white-haired, rugged,
black figure, he was heroic in his very crudeness. He wore a long, old
Prince Albert coat, which swept carelessly about his thin legs. His
turndown collar was disputing territory with his tie and his
waistcoat. His head was down, and he glanced out of the lower part of
his eyes over the congregation, while his hands fumbled at the sides
of his trousers in an embarrassment which may have been pretended or
otherwise.

"Mistah Cheerman," he said, "fu' myse'f, I ain't no speakah. I ain't
nevah been riz up dat way. I has plowed an' I has sowed, an' latah on
I has laid cyahpets, an' I has whitewashed. But, ladies an' gent'men,
I is a man, an' as a man I want to speak to you ter-night. We is lak a
flock o' sheep, an' in de las' week de wolf has come among ouah
midst. On evah side we has hyeahd de shephe'd dogs a-ba'kin' a-wa'nin'
unto us. But, my f'en's, de cotton o' p'ospe'ity has been stuck in
ouah eahs. Fu' thirty yeahs er mo', ef I do not disremember, we has
walked de streets an' de by-ways o' dis country an' called ouahse'ves
f'eemen. Away back yander, in de days of old, lak de chillen of Is'ul
in Egypt, a deliv'ah came unto us, an Ab'aham Lincoln a-lifted de yoke
f'om ouah shouldahs." The audience waked up and began swaying, and
there was moaning heard from both