"One more word," pleaded the stranger, "and I have done—please bear with me a moment. The Central Executive Committee, of which I am a member, feeling their great need of your invaluable services have commissioned me to make known to you their earnest desire, that you will accept a nomination, from the party, for Congress upon the reform platform."
"You mean your ultra radical platform," suggested the Colonel.
"No, not exactly that," replied the stranger, "they desire further, if however you will not accept, that you will submit your views upon the perplexing subject of negro or manhood suffrage."
"And you are sure your committee will act upon suggestions from me?" he asked.
"I am quite sure they will," answered Mr. Summers.
"Then, sir, please ask your committee, as a special request from John W. Seymour, to put the negroes to work upon the farms; and the carpet-baggers out of the state, and hang the scalawags by the neck until they are dead, dead, dead, sir."
"Tut, tut, tut," exclaimed the old man excitedly, "you are beside yourself. Remember, my dear sir, that you are sowing the wind, and by and by strangers will reap the whirlwind. Good night, Colonel Seymour, I hope you will think better of the matter.
As the white haired stranger passed out of the door, Clarissa, who was closing it after him, enquired of her old master, "Mars Jon, what nice farderly ole man was dat ole gemmen? he peared lak he wus mity sorrowful. Iseed him put his handkercher to his face lak he mout be weepin; what did yer say to him, ole marser, dat upsot him so bad?"
"Without deigning a reply Col. Seymour enquired of Clarissa what the shouting and halloing at her house last night meant?"
"Did yer heer dat racket Mars Jon? I spected yer wus asleep. Twant nuffin epceps Ned und Joshaway er cuttin up der shines. Dem niggers been to town und cum bak drunk as horgs in de mash tub und sed how dat dey had jined de milintery cumpny, und was agwine to clur up de po white trash in de kentry, fo und aft; when yer hurd dem dey wus er hollern to Ellik how dat de boss sed dat dey mout go to de town und draw de lan und de mule und de penshun, dat dey wus agwine to git dern nex Saddy. Lans sake, ole Marser, I specks we's agwine to have orful times in dis kentry—de niggers turned loose lak blaten sheepses er shullikin und a pilfern erbout ebery which a way. Ole fokses used to say dat when de tip eend ob de moon wus rite red lak, dat yer mout look out fur wars und yurthshaks too, und I seed dat ur site las nite 'twixt midnite und day und it fotched what de ole fokses sed rite back to my member'nce. I'd hate powerful to see any udder bellion in dis lan, dat I would. Not ef day is ergwine to shoot steerkyarts und wheel-barrers clean froo our federick sojers, lak dey dun de last time. Grate king, Mars Jon, what sorter ammynishun did dem dare yankeys shoot outen dare kannons ennyhow? Frum de way our po sojers wuz tore to pieces, dey put me in membrunce of ambylances, und powerful big wuns at dat; Grate king! I natally heers dare po flesh er sizzing dis minnit. Is you sho ole marser dat de good Lord is ergwine to fetch all dem arms und legs und heds togedder, eend fur eend at de resurreckshun, so our sojers is ergwine to know pine plank which is dere'n, und dey drifted disserway und datterway in de cornfields of Manassy und Chuckkermorger und de Bulls Run? Grate king!"