I do not know whether my friend will carry out his threat of compiling such a work, but if he ever does I claim the collection will be incomplete unless in his pages he includes the narrative pertaining to that colored person who was condemned to death on the scaffold, and who was unable to readjust himself to the prospect. The nearer the date of execution came the greater became the reluctance on his part, until toward the end it amounted with him to what might be called a positive diffidence.
On the night before the fatal day a clergyman sat with the prisoner striving by counsel and admonition to prepare him for the ordeal.
“My brother, my poor brother,” said the minister, soothingly, “try to face the fate which confronts you on the morrow with courage and resolution. Remember that thousands and thousands before you all through the ages, some justly condemned and some unjustly, have suffered this same punishment with fortitude. Even the early Christian martyrs died much as you must die.”
“Yas, suh, I knows,” quavered the condemned, “but—but it wuz a hobby wid them.”
§ 57 Something Like a Wampus, Probably
They were holding an examination of aspirants for the position of principal of a colored grade school in Louisville. One of the most promising candidates for the vacancy was a small yellow man, who wore shiny, gold-rimmed spectacles, and bore himself with that air of assurance which learning sometimes imparts.
The superintendent of the public school system was sounding the qualifications of this person. The subject was syntax. The inquisitor would choose a word at random from the lexicon and the applicant would give his conception of its proper definition.
Out of a clear sky, so to speak, the superintendent sped this one:
“Jeopardy.”
The candidate froze stiff. His eyes rolled in his head as he recoiled from the shock.