"The fury of the mob had been aroused to such a pitch that nothing could induce them to desist. That Negro did look at me so appealingly, evidently regarding me as his only possible hope. Finally the crowd became impatient at listening to my harangue. They started off with the Negro. I then drew my pistol as if about to kill and be killed for his sake. I was overpowered in short order; but that one deed, the drawing of that pistol, has made me solid forever. The poor Negro was taken near the scene of the alleged crime and was hanged and riddled with bullets.
"That night I could not sleep. About twelve o'clock I got out of the bed and dressed. The moon was gleaming down upon the earth. Something drew me irresistibly to the scene of the lynching. The murdered Negro was yet hanging there, and by the light of the moon struggling through the treetops and falling in spangles over his form, I saw a horrible sight. The face was ploughed up with bullets, his eyes were bulging out, his stomach was ripped open and his entrails were visible. On his breast there was a placard, and an inward voice seemed to say to me, 'Read!' With my hair rising on my head and the strangest feeling I ever had in my life stealing over me, I crept up to the body. I could not see distinctly, so I struck a match and read these words: 'Whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap.' I looked up at the bulging eyes, and they seemed to be trying to speak to me and say, 'Thou art the man.' My strength failed me, and I fell forward, and, clutching at anything to keep from striking the ground, caught hold of the dead Negro. My weight, added to his, broke the rope, and we fell down together, my head getting caught under his mangled form.
"But, Stewart, the story is too uncanny. I can't go on with it!" His voice now grew loud and wild. "I would like to tell you about my dream. Oh! it was awful. But I can't tell it to you! That queer feeling is stealing over me. My hair is rising now. Don't you hear my teeth chattering! Light the lamp! Light the lamp, Stewart!" Christian was now standing up, grasping the table in terror, and shaking like an aspen leaf.
Suddenly a rap was heard at the door. Christian cried out with the terror of a child, "Oh, don't open that door, Stewart, don't! That nigger will come in!" Stewart lighted the lamp, and this had the effect of restoring Christian to his normal condition. Christian now went to the door and opened it himself.
"Why, Speaker Lanier! Come in, Mr. Speaker, come in; your call does me a signal honor," he said. Mr. Lanier was a large, tall man, of grave aspect, and of a commanding appearance. "Be seated, Mr. Lanier, be seated." Speaker Lanier sat down and let his eyes rove around the room. He caught sight of the grave look on Stewart's face, and inquired the cause.
"Oh, nothing, Mr. Speaker. A nigger stood in the way of my coming to the Legislature, so I just killed him. I have been telling Stewart about it," said Christian.
"In cold blood?" asked Lanier.
"Oh, it's a small matter about the sort of blood," laughed Christian. "Killing a nigger does not amount to anything. A man isn't popular these days unless he kills a nigger. I have got mine." Lanier looked at Christian contemptuously. The subject was so disgusting that he hastened to discard it at once.
"Say, boys," said Lanier. "I have just come from the house of Ex-Mayor Turner's wife, and she has sent me to you all on the queerest mission possible. It comes about in this way.
"You know she has staying with her, a Negro girl, Erma Wysong, who is currently believed to be the daughter of Ex-Governor Lawson. This girl has so favorably impressed Mrs. Turner and has so elevated the opinion of the people as to the capabilities of Negroes, that Mrs. Turner has decided to use a number of Negro girls to kill off inimical legislation relative to the Negro race, which legislation threatens them at this session. You know a determined effort will be made to pass a separate coach bill; and also a law so dividing the school funds that Negro children shall get only that proportion of school money that comes from taxes paid on Negro property. Of course that means death to the Negro schools. Well, Mrs. Turner wishes to defeat these bills and desires to have the credit of the performance. Here is her idea. She holds that the social tie has been the assuager of all racial antagonisms in history and that what makes the Negro Race Problem so hard of solution is that the social factor is missing and ever shall be.