The Bourbons said their meetings were the hot-beds of emigration and Republicanism. In some places they were forbidden to meet in their private houses for prayer-meetings, as their enemies said they met to make plans to go to Kansas. Is there no guarantee for life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness? What a state of society is this for a free country? Our first duty as a government is protection. But if it is too weak for that, the second duty is to welcome the fleeing refugee and point him to work, or to the thousands of acres of good government land, and help him where he needs help to keep body and soul together during the few months it may require to make himself self-sustaining.
From Daniel Votaw's report from Independence, Kansas, I extract the following: "Thomas Bell, of Dallas County, Texas, was hanged about October 5th for attempting to go with his family and a few neighbors to Kansas. Blood and rapine mark the fugitive. After supper, from meal furnished them for this purpose, they gave us a history of their trials in Texas, which was truly sorrowful; and with the notes, mortgages, and credits given—to the whole amount, two thousand five hundred dollars—for their farms, they were compelled to leave and flee for their lives, as David did before Saul."
Shot-gun rule still continued. Philip Fauber, recently from near Baton Kouge, Louisiana, testifies as follows: "I rented land of Bragg and James McNealy, and was to have one-third of the crop and furnish team and seed. I took three bales of cotton to the weigher, who read my contract, and set aside one bale for me. But the McNealys claimed the three bales, and I referred the matter to the Justice of the Peace, who, after reading the contract, sanctioned the decision of the weigher. But the McNealys brought another officer, who asked to see the contract I handed him the paper, which he read and tore up and threw away, and McNealy took possession of the last bale of cotton, which I told them was my only dependence for my family's support for the Winter. On my way home through a little woods I received the contents of a shot-gun in my face, both eyes being put out. In great distress I felt my way home. The doctor took a number of shot out of my face, but he couldn't put my eyes back. I can now do nothing but depend upon others to feed and clothe me till God takes me from this dark world to that glorious world of light and peace. The old man, McNealy denied shooting me, but he never said he did not know who did. But he and his two sons died within a few months after I was shot In the last sickness of Bragg McNealy he sent for me to tell me for the last time that he did not shoot me. Still he would not tell who did." The industrious wife of this poor man whose face is speckled with shot scars, is anxious to get four or five acres of land to work herself, and support herself and blind husband.
A. A. Lacy, an intelligent colored man from New Orleans, who came to us indorsed by a number of others from the same city, testifies to the facts related by him as follows: "May 5, 1880, I called at the custom-house to report for duty to General A. S. Badger, collector of customs, by whom I had been employed. He directed me to Captain L. E. Salles, the chief weigher, to whom I had reported a number of days, but failed to get work, and as I failed this time I asked if I had better continue calling for work. He replied, 'You had better call again.' As I was passing out of the door his partner, Michael Walsh, came to me (in a gruff, commanding tone), 'What is that you say, Lacy?' 'Nothing to you,' I replied; 'I was speaking to Captain Salles.' At this he gave a stab, and as I turned to see what he was hitting me for, he added two stabs more with cursing. As I was going down the steps I felt the warm blood running down my side, not yet realizing that I had been cut. I opened my vest and saw the flowing blood. I stepped into Mr. Blanchard's office, the assistant weigher, who was a Republican, and showed him my side, with clothes saturated with blood. He was so shocked and excited that he was taken ill and died in just two weeks. He advised me to enter a complaint against Michael Walsh, which I did, and he was placed in jail in default of thousand dollar bond. I was sent to the hospital. As there were many friends and reporters calling on me, the surgeon forbade callers except immediate attendants and my wife. He said the deepest wound reached the left lung, and an eighth of an inch deeper would have produced instant death. On the tenth day I was allowed to be removed to my home, and pronounced to be convalescent. Michael Walsh was released from prison with no other mark of displeasure resting upon him for this attempt at murder than a few days' imprisonment. As soon as I was able to walk about I took a boat with friends whose lives had been threatened for Kansas, where we arrived July 15, 1880. I am only able to light work, for which I am thankful. Yet it seems hard to lose all this time from the assassin's stab in a custom-house that belongs to the government I fought two years to sustain."
Uncle Peter Cox, an aged man of eighty-eight years, has a wen on the back of his neck, running between his shoulders, larger than a two-quart bowl, that has been over thirty years coming. It was caused by heavy lifting and continued hard work during his slave-life. He came to Topeka, Kansas, in July, 1880, with his aged wife and deaf and dumb grandson of eighteen years. His advanced age and deformity induced me to inquire more closely into the cause of leaving his State (Louisiana). After giving the sad history of his slave-life—the common lot of that class of goods and chattels—he said: "Missus I stay'd thar as long as I could, when I seed my brodder in de Lo'd hangin' on a tree not more'n a hundred rods from my house, near Baton Rouge. A sistah was hanged five miles off, on de plank road, in West Baton Rouge, in a little woods. Her sistah followed her beggin' for her life, and tole de bulldosers she couldn't tell whar her husban' was that da's gwine to hang. But da swore she should hang if she didn't tell." Giving his head a shake, while tears dropped thick and fast down the deeply furrowed cheeks, he continued: "O, Missus, I couldn't live thar no longer. I's so distressed day an' night. De chief captain of dis ban' of murder's was Henry Castle, who wid his ban' of men was supported by Mr. Garrett, Mr. Fisher, an' Mr. Washington, who were merchants in Baton Rouge."
But that poor grandfather's heart was filled with grief to overflowing when the faithful grandson was walking alone in the railroad track, and was run over by the cars and instantly killed. Although the warning whistle was given the poor deaf boy heard it not. As he was all the aged pair had to depend upon for their living, it was to them a heavy stroke. No one can look over these testimonies without exclaiming, with David, "Is there not a cause" for the flight of this persecuted people? We find many among them, like Lazarus, begging for the crumbs that fall from the rich man's table; but let us not allow them to die in this land of plenty.
Yet, through all these dark clouds, we perceive the silver linings. The heaven-born cause of temperance is gaining a foothold in our Southern States. A crusade against the liquor-traffic commenced in Ohio, and has swept over Michigan and other neighboring States, and is still going on conquering and to conquer.
CHAPTER XIX.
PROSPECTS OF THE FREEDMEN.
Our last chapter contains the dark side of our picture. In this we present the brighter prospects for a long and sorely oppressed race. We first note what has been and is being done for the fifty thousand who have emigrated to Kansas As I have been a co-laborer with Elizabeth L. Comstock more than two years in rescuing the perishing in their new homes, I speak from personal knowledge.