poo' whites are a durned sight wuss 'n
the niggers!"

"Then why not drive them out of the country, too? You see," said I,
"your charges against the negroes are vague, and amount to nothing."

"I own," he replied, "thar's now and then one that's ekal to any white
man. Thar's one a-comin' thar."

A load of wood was approaching, drawn by two horses abreast and a mule
for leader. A white-haired old negro was riding the mule.

"He's the greatest man!" said Elijah, after we had passed. "He's been
the support of his master's family for twenty year and over. He kin
manage a heap better 'n his master kin. The' a'n't a farmer in the
country kin beat him. He keeps right on jest the same now he's free;
though I suppose he gits wages."

"You acknowledge, then, that some of the negroes are superior men?"

"Yes, thar's about ten in a hundred honest and smart as anybody."

"That," said I, "is a good many. Do you suppose you could say more of
the white race, if it had just come out of slavery?"

"I don't believe," said Elijah, "that ye could say as much!"

We passed the remains of the house "whar Harrow was shot." It had been
burned to the ground.

"You've heerd about Harrow; he was Confederate commissary; he stole mo'e
hosses f'om the people, and po'ed the money down his own throat, than
would have paid fo' fo'ty men like him, if he was black."

A mile or two farther on, we came to another house.

"Hyer's whar the man lives that killed Harrow. He was in the army, and
because he objected to some of Harrow's doin's, Harrow had him arrested,
and treated him very much amiss. That ground into his conscience and
feelin's, and he deserted fo' no other puppose than to shoot him. He's a
mighty smart fellah! He'll strike a man side the head, and soon 's his
fist leaves it, his foot's thar. He shot Harrow in that house you see
burnt to the ground, and then went spang to Washington. Oh, he was
sharp!"

On our return we met the slayer of Harrow riding home from
Fredericksburg on a mule,--a fine-looking young fellow, of blonde
complexion, a pleasant countenance, finely chiselled nose and lips, and
an eye full of sunshine. "Jest the best-hearted, nicest young fellah in
the wo'ld, till ye git him mad; then look out!" I think it is often the
most attractive persons, of fine temperaments, who are capable of the
most terrible wrath when roused.

The plank road was in such a ruined condition that nobody thought of
driving on it; although