“At the next election he entered himself as a candidate for sheriff on the Republican ticket. Well, sir, that fellow certainly made a spirited campaign. If ever a man worked to bring out the full strength of the white Republican vote he was the man. He canvassed the county from end to end. He spoke at every cross-roads blacksmith shop and every country schoolhouse. He left no stone unturned. “Well, election day came. He got exactly two votes—and was arrested that night for repeating!” § 205 The Sole Drawback to Utter Success Probably there are a dozen differing versions of this story but the one I like best of all is the one I heard some twenty-five years ago. Mandy, the cook, left her employer’s kitchen early one afternoon to attend a marriage ceremony in the colored quarter of the town. The high contracting parties to the union were to be distinguished members of local Afro-American Society, and Mandy, as one of the invited guests, anticipated an enjoyable evening. Nor, as it would appear, was she disappointed. For, when she appeared at 8 o’clock next morning she gave her mistress an enthusiastic account of the affair. “Miss May,” she declared, “dat suttinly wuz a scrumptious weddin’! I reckin very few w’ite folks an’ no niggers at all in dis town ever did have a weddin’ dat wuz de beat of dish yere one. I only wisht you mout a’ seen de bride yore own se’f. My! My! Dat gal suttinly wuz got up regardless. Her weddin’ gown wuz all hollered out at de top an’ ’twuz trimmed ’round de aidges wid rows of w’ite vermin. An’ her hair wuz done up high on her haid in a pampydo, an’ right in de middle of it wuz stuck one of dese yere w’ite regrets. And de contras’ betwixt dat black pamp and dat w’ite regret—_Ump huh!_ “Dat wuz only jest de beginnin’. De parlor wuz all trimmed wid smileaxes an’ de ushers dey all wore w’ite gloves an’ swaller-tail coats. An’ they wuz a string band of eight pieces to play de weddin’ march. “Miss May, you sho’ly also an’ likewise should a’ seen de table whar de bridal feast wuz spread. Dey had chicken croquettes at ever’ plate an’ ice-cream ’twell you couldn’t rest, an’ punch made out of gin an’ a whole soup-syringe full of simon salad. “De weddin’ feast lasted all night an’ tain’t finished ’till yit. Dem niggers is still over dere dancin’. I jest stole away to cook you up a lil’ breakfust an’ den, befo’ I washes de dishes, I aims to run on back fur to tek a hand in de las’ quodrille.” “But Mandy,” said her mistress, “you haven’t said anything about the bridegroom?” “Nome, I lef’ him out a-puppos. He wuz de only drawback dey wuz to dat weddin’.” “Oh, I’m so sorry. Was he drunk?” “I don’t know ef he wuz or ef he wuzn’t; but Miss May, wid dat gal got up de way she wuz an’ wid all dat music an’ all dem vittles, dat nasty, low-flung, kinky-haided nigger, he never did come.” § 206 Sure Damnation for Somebody