But, thank heaven, she was faithful and true and his honeyed songs and wiles had no effect. When she would tell me of his approaches, how I would grind my teeth and clench my hands in fury, and long for the time when I would wreak a just vengeance upon him. The time has come. I found him worn and helpless from cold and hunger, but there was no pity in my heart. I struck him down and reveled with heartfelt joy when I saw him sink down, bathed in blood, and die by my hands. I do not fear the consequences. When I tell my tale I will be upheld by all. He is dead and I am satisfied. I think he is the largest and fattest mosquito I ever saw. "Get Off the Earth" "Get off the earth," says I, "With your muddy boots and your dirty face; Such a bother I never see, You're the biggest torment in the place; Forever worryin' an' pesterin' me. "Get off the earth," says I. I didn't mean that, but I was so vexed At the boy's disturbin' way; I never knew what he would do next In his noisy, mischief-makin' play. "Get off the earth," says I. And that very night the fever came; And now I'm cryin' to heaven in vain For just one more touch of them same Lost little grimy hands again. The Stranger's Appeal He was tall and angular and had a keen gray eye and a solemn face. His dark coat was buttoned high and had something of a clerical cut. His pepper and salt trousers almost cleared the tops of his shoes, but his tall hat was undeniably respectable, and one would have said he was a country preacher out for a holiday. He was driving a light wagon, and he stopped and climbed out when he came up to where five or six men were sitting on the post-office porch in a little country town in Texas. "My friends," he said, "you all look like intelligent men, and I feel it my duty to say a few words to you in regard to the terrible and deplorable state of things now existing in this section of the country. I refer to the horrible barbarities recently perpetrated in the midst of some of the most civilized of Texas towns, when human beings created in the image of their Maker were subjected to cruel torture and then inhumanly burned in the public streets. Something must be done to wipe the stigma from the fair name of your state. Do you not agree with me?" "Are you from Galveston, stranger?" asked one of the men. "No, sir. I am from Massachusetts, the cradle of liberty of the downtrodden negro, and the home of the champions of his cause. These burnings are causing us to weep tears of blood and I am here to see if I can not move your hearts to pity on his behalf." "I guess you might as well drive on," said one of the group. "We are going to look out for ourselves and just so long as negroes keep on committing the crimes they have, just so long will we punish them." "And you will not repent of the lives you have taken by the horrible agency of fire?" "Nary repent."