All being ready, a chairman elected, the glass of water and bouquet of flowers placed before the speaker, and the band having duly discoursed, a short, smooth-voiced negro—an accredited preacher of the Methodist persuasion, and member of the State Legislature from that district—was introduced. He made a long, peculiarly energetic, interesting and instructive address, rich in metaphor and quaint expressions, glowing with native eloquence, and abounding in graphic description, wholesome counsel, and eulogy of the “United States.” Not an allusion was made to the past relations of the races in the South, unless an exhortation to gratitude towards the United States be so construed, in view of the fact that the very few whites present acknowledged no such debt. After the address, music followed, and then Marmor was formally introduced to his neighbors, and read in clear, loud tones the inevitable “Preamble and Declaration of Independence,” to the manifest disgust of a small group of men who stood in the rear of the crowd. A tall, muscular man, with iron-gray hair and bushy beard, turned upon his heel with an oath, saying: “Marmor, the contemptible radical, takes too much pleasure in reading that preamble to me, and I’m a fool to hear it any way. _All men created equal!_ It is a self-evident lie!” and he strode away, followed by the boyish young man, Tom, to whom the reader has already been introduced. “Father,” said he, “that red-headed fool acts like a Yankee. You wouldn’t suppose he fought for the Lost Cause.” “It is the cursed German blood in him!” replied “the old man Baker,” as his neighbors called him. “He hasn’t been in the State long enough to get the Republican taint out of it. His father wasn’t born here.” “It is a pity that a Yankee bullet hadn’t hit _him_, instead of brother Will.” He’s a scalawag and a carpet-bagger, both in one.” “Yes, I’d like to rid the State of his presence, and the niggers of one leader. If it wasn’t for the leaders, we could manage the ignorant ones.” The exercises at “the stand” closed at five o’clock, and the Militia soon formed, thirty or forty strong, and marched off up Market street; which being over one hundred and fifty feet in width, afforded ample space for the evolutions which the men performed with commendable precision for nearly an hour. At length they stood resting at the upper end of the street. “Have you noticed the clouds, Captain?” asked the tall second-lieutenant, approaching his superior with raised cap, “That’s so, Watta,” replied Captain Doc, glancing at the clouds, “We’ll march down to the armory and dismiss. Attention, Company.” The necessary orders being given, they proceeded by fours, interval march, open order, with guns across their shoulders, and arms over their guns; thus occupying little over one third of the width of the street.