es. These
inferior races are to be kept in subjection by their superiors, and
wherever and whenever they assume to dominate their superiors we are
justified by our Creator in using every means available to put them
down. The white people of North Carolina, the curled darlings of God's
favor have by their long suffering gotten into such a state of
subjection that it is time to act. (Applause). Wherever the Saxon has
planted his foot, he has been a civilizer. He came to America, drove out
the savage and made it the greatest nation on the face of the earth,
(applause) and he has the right to govern it in its entirety from the
humblest official to the executive head of the nation, (prolonged
applause). We have for years been dominated by semi-civilized
barbarians, flattered into the belief that they are as good as white
people by unprincipalled Yankee carpet-baggers who have profited by
their ignorance. Emboldened by the leniency of their superiors, Negroes
have become unbearable. The government is corrupt, and so bold has the
Negro become that the virtue of our women has been assailed by that
black rascal, the editor of _The Record_--(cries of Kill him! Burn the
scoundrel!) The snake is not to be scorched this time: we are going to
make a clean sweep, and permanently restore white man's government. Our
friends in other sections of the State, and even in adjoining States are
in sympathy with us, and are willing to come in and help us," etc.

But why weary the reader with the Colonel's firey harangue? Although
there is no foundation for such incendiary language the reader will soon
see just how much misery it wrought upon a defenseless people. Fanned
into fury by the rehearsing of imaginary wrongs by gifted tongues, the
mob when once started astonished its leaders, who quailed and looked
aghast at the hellish work they had inaugurated.

CHAPTER IV.

Mrs. Amanda Pervis.

"Whew! dis here win is er blowin pow'ful col fer Octoby. Ther ol sow was
er tot'n straw yistedy and that means winter aint fur off. Shoo there! I
never seed ther beat er thet ol hen; make hase ter gulp her own co'n
down ter driv ther turkeys way from their'n." Thus spoke Mrs. Amanda
Pervis as she stood in the door of her humble wooden dwelling on
Kidder's Hill a brisk morning in October. "Thanksgiving haint fur off,
an turkey meat's er gittin high. Shoo ther yer hussy!" "Who air yu er
talkin ter Mandy?" said her husband coming to the door and peep