was heroic. To kill another for revenge was pitifully human and weak:
"Vengeance is mine, I will repay," saith the Lord.

XIII

THE CAKEWALK

Old Mr. Delamere's servant, Sandy Campbell, was in deep trouble.

A party of Northern visitors had been staying for several days at the
St. James Hotel. The gentlemen of the party were concerned in a
projected cotton mill, while the ladies were much interested in the
study of social conditions, and especially in the negro problem. As soon
as their desire for information became known, they were taken
courteously under the wing of prominent citizens and their wives, who
gave them, at elaborate luncheons, the Southern white man's views of the
negro, sighing sentimentally over the disappearance of the good old
negro of before the war, and gravely deploring the degeneracy of his
descendants. They enlarged upon the amount of money the Southern whites
had spent for the education of the negro, and shook their heads over the
inadequate results accruing from this unexampled generosity. It was sad,
they said, to witness this spectacle of a dying race, unable to
withstand the competition of a superior type. The severe reprisals taken
by white people for certain crimes committed by negroes were of course
not the acts of the best people, who deplored them; but still a certain
charity should be extended towards those who in the intense and
righteous anger of the moment should take the law into their own hands
and deal out rough but still substantial justice; for no negro was ever
lynched without incontestable proof of his guilt. In order to be
perfectly fair, and give their visitors an opportunity to see both sides
of the question, they accompanied the Northern visitors to a colored
church where they might hear a colored preacher, who had won a jocular
popularity throughout the whole country by an oft-repeated sermon
intended to demonstrate that the earth was flat like a pancake. This
celebrated divine could always draw a white audience, except on the days
when his no less distinguished white rival in the field of
sensationalism preached his equally famous sermon to prove that hell was
exactly one half mile, linear measure, from the city limits of
Wellington. Whether accidentally or not, the Northern visitors had no
opportunity to meet or talk alone with any colored person in the city
except the servants at the hotel. When one of the party suggested a
visit to the colored mission sch