p of paper and started for the section of the
city indicated, but the way was so choked with men and boys, who
challenged and parleyed with him in spite of the permit he carried, that
progress was slow. Men whom he had met in his common every-day life in
Wilmington, men who had been cordial and gentlemanly in their greetings,
now either hurled bitter epithets at him, or passed him with averted
eyes. Several times during that morning were guns pointed into his face
as he paused here and there to stop collisions that were constantly
occurring between white and black men, fatal in every instance to the
blacks, who, without arms, were no match for the well-equipped whites,
who took advantage of their helplessness to bully them. The most
thrilling scene witnessed was that which made the minister's heart
faint, although the incident excited the admiration of all who beheld
it. Above the oaths of excited men and boys was heard a wild cheer a few
blocks away, followed by the defiant cry of a negro boy, who came
panting up the street, unmindful of the cry of "halt" that issued from
many lips. Frantically waving a huge revolver in his hand, he fell upon
his face within a few yards of where the minister stood, pierced by a
rifle ball. Turning over slowly upon his back, he leveled his pistol and
fired into the crowd of men closing in on him, shattering the arm of a
Georgia bandit. "He is dying!" exclaimed the minister, with uplifted
hand to prevent the men from doing further violence to the dying lad,
whose life-blood was making crimson the sand where he lay. One man in
the crowd stooped and picked up the pistol that had fallen from the
lad's grasp. He raised it up before the crowd and said: "Let him die in
peace, boys; I admire a brave heart, if it is under a black skin." The
crowd dispersed. The minister got down upon his knees and raised the
lad's head into his arms. He opened his eyes and fixed them upon the
face of the man of God, who had begun to stroke his forehead with his
hand. "God be merciful to thee, my son," said the minister tenderly.
"Dat's all right, parson," returned the lad faintly, with a smile upon
his ebony face. "I tol' um I'd die foe I'd giv' up ma gun, an' I tink
dat when I tun ober dat time I got one er dem."

"What is your name, my son?" asked Dr. Le Grand, eagerly. There was no
answer; the boy was gone into undying life. The minister gently laid the
little hero back upon the ground to await the arrival of