A NEGRO AND HIS FRIEND
On a sultry morning in August, nineteen hundred and two, an ex-Confederate soldier, who had fought under Lee and Jackson, hobbled across Independence Square, bearing heavily upon his cane, on his way to the Mecklenburg county courthouse. From the opposite direction came a young fellow, with ruddy complexion, beaming face and springy step, en route to the railway station to take an early train for a neighboring town. The two, unexpectedly, came together in front of the Central Hotel and extended their right hands to each other.
“Why, father,” exclaimed the younger man, “what are you doing here this time of day?
“Have you driven all the way from home this morning?”
“Yes, son, I left the farm about daylight, and just this moment arrived.
“Jim is in trouble again.”
“Another church row?”
“Yes; a camp meeting this time.”