"The fact is," said a surly, wolfish-looking fellow who came behind the first speaker, "the fact is, we an't going to have any of your d——d abolition meetings here! If he can't get it out, I can!"
"Friends," said father Dickson, mildly, "by what right do you presume to stop me?"
"We think," said the first man, "that you are doing harm, violating the laws"—
"Have you any warrant from the civil authorities to stop me?"
"No, sir," said the first speaker; but the second one, ejecting a large quid of tobacco from his mouth, took up the explanation in a style and taste peculiarly his own.
"Now, old cock, you may as well know fust as last, that we don't care a cuss for the civil authorities, as you call them, 'cause we's going to do what we darn please; and we don't please have you yowping abolishionism round here, and putting deviltry in the heads of our niggers! Now, that ar's plain talk!"
This speech was chorused by a group of men on the steps, who now began to gather round and shout,—
"Give it to him! That's into him! Make the wool fly!"
Father Dickson, who was perfectly calm, now remarked in the shadow of the wood, at no great distance, three or four young men mounted on horses, who laughed brutally and called out to the speaker,—
"Give him some more!"