"Ah," said he, "here is a liberal extract from Tomlinson's great speech. But it's getting most too dark. Shall I light a lamp?" I replied that I was afraid that he might tire himself pursuing his kind desire to entertain me. "Oh, not at all, not at all, I assure you," he quickly spoke up. "But I guess you've had as much as you ought to digest at present. Feed, but don't gorge, is my motto. A hungry calf can run faster than a foundered horse. I tell you," he added, putting the paper under his arm and coming toward me, "there's going to be a warm election here this fall. Of course I'm a candidate for reelection--the Senate couldn't get along without me--and I don't know that I've got but one very bitter enemy, and he is none other than the editor of this sheet, Sir," he said, striking the newspaper with his hat. "For a long time he was my friend and supporter, but he ran against me two years ago, and I beat him so badly that since then he has been my enemy. He is a cur, and as sure as he lives I'll get even with him. And as the season approaches I expect every day to find in his paper a scurrilous article about me; all he wants is a pretext. Ah, here is Washington, with your supper." Cutting with his hat a black scallop in the twilight, the Senator withdrew. The giant placed the tray of dishes upon a chair and lighted a hanging lamp. And then he stood in the middle of the floor, his arms folded, looking at me. "Won't you please sit down?" I pleaded. "I am to be commanded, Sir," he replied, seating himself, and under his ponderous bulk the chair creaked. "Come now," said I, "throw away your stilts and walk on the ground. I have quite enough of that on the stage." He looked at me, slowly shutting and opening his eyes as if determined that even his wink should be deliberate. "And don't you think, Sir, that it would be well if you could say that you have had quite enough of the stage itself?" "I don't know but you are right, Brother Washington. At any rate the stage has had quite enough of me. I am called the elephant." "Not on account of your size, Sir?" "No, on account of my weight." "Ah, and the hearts of all men who know not the Lord shall at last be as heavy as the elephant." "Very true, no doubt. I wish you'd pour this coffee for me." He came forward with a solemn tread, poured out the coffee, and returned to the chair but did not sit down until I commanded him. "As heavy as an elephant," he repeated, slowly winking at me. "In working for the soul of the white man, Brother Washington," said I, "you have set about to return a good for an evil. The white man enslaved your body and now you would free his soul." "Sir, the first shipload of negroes sent to this country was the first blessing that fell upon the Ethiopian race. In slavery we served an apprenticeship to enlightenment. Wisdom could not have reached us through any other channel. The negro was not born with the germ of self-civilization."