Our town—I mean the one where I was born—formerly abounded in characters. One of our local institutions twenty years ago was a black driver named Abe, but called Old Abe for short. Abe was popular with both races. He had one social shortcoming, though. About once in so often he would slip out on a dark night and acquire something of value without the formality of speaking to the owner about it. For awhile he escaped a penitentiary sentence. But eventually he was caught with what the Grand Jury and the prosecuting attorney regarded as the goods, the said goods consisting of a stray calf. He was lodged in jail to await trial. His cell was in the upper tier. On the Sunday afternoon following his incarceration his wife, accompanied by five or six pickaninnies, came to pay him a visit. It was the first time she had seen him since his arrest. On her way out she was halted by the deputy jailer, whose name was Grady. “Dora,” he said, “have you hired a lawyer for Abe yet?” “Naw, suh,” she said, “effen Abe was guilty, right away I’d git him a lawyer. But he p’intedly tells me he ain’t de leas’ bit guilty. So, of co’se, dat bein’ de case, he ain’t needin’ no lawyer to git him clear.” From the floor above, down the iron stairwell, came floating the voice of Abe: “Mr. Grady, oh, Mr. Grady!—you tell ’at fool nigger ’oman down thar to git a lawyer—an’ git a damn good one, too.” § 38 The Pride of Creative Genius A colored person of a formidable aspect was arraigned on a charge of mayhem. As Exhibit A, for the case of the prosecution, the mutilated victim of his wrath was presented before the jurors’ eyes. The face of the victim was but little more than a recent site—a place where a face had been, but was no longer. When the jury very promptly had returned a verdict of guilty, His Honor, pointing to the chief complaining witness and addressing the defendant, said: “This is the most lamentable example of brutality I have ever seen in a long experience on the criminal bench. Surely no human being, unless he were inspired by infernal influences and suggestions, could deliberately work such wreckage as you have worked upon the countenance of a defenseless and helpless fellow creature. Demons from below surely must have prompted you in what you did. It must have been the devil himself who urged you on.” “Well, Jedge,” said the prisoner, “come to think it over, I ain’t shore but whut you’re right. As I look back on it now it do seem lak to me ’at w’en I wuz cuttin’ his nose loose frum his face wid a razor, the devil wuz right behind me sayin’ ‘Tha’s right, separate him frum his nose.’ An’ I ’spects it must a been them demons you mention w’ich suggested to me stompin’ out his front teeth. “But, Jedge, bitin’ off his ear wuz stric’ly my own idea!” § 39 The Prompt Response