Mr. Vance, in his first race for Congress, having finished his speech at the cross-roads near by, visited the old man, from whom, of course, he received a warm welcome. In reply to the inquiry of his visitor as to how he was getting along, the old negro slowly replied: "Mighty po'ly, mighty po'ly, Mause Zeb, mighty po'ly forninst the things of dis world, but it's all right over yander, over yander." "What church do you belong to, Uncle Ephraim?" said Vance. "Well, Mause Zeb, I's a Presbyterian." "Uncle Ephraim," said Vance with great solemnity, "do you believe in the doctrine of _election?"_ After a pause and with equal solemnity, the old man responded: "Mause Zeb, I don't pertend to understand fully the ins and outs of dat doctrine, but 'cordin' to my understandin', it's de doctrine of de Bible, and I bleebes it." "Uncle Ephraim," said Vance, "do you think I have been _elected?"_ "Mause Zeb," said the old man in pathetic tone, "ef it's jest de same to you, I would a leetle ruther you would wifdraw dat question. I's poorty ole and gittn' a little too near de grabe to tell a lie, but de fac am, I bin livin' round in dese parts nigh onto a hundred years and knowed a heap of de big mens dat's dead and gone, and I neber yet knowed nor hear tell of no man bein' 'lected, _what wan't a candidate."_ Like many other orators of his party, Senator Vance found the position of champion of the Democratic nominee for President in 1872 one of extreme embarrassment. A story he occasionally told, however, relieved the situation greatly. He said: "My fellow-citizens, I am somewhat in the position of an old-time illiterate backwoods preacher, who was with great difficulty able to read off, after a fashion, one favorite hymn at which his book always opened at the opportune moment. One Sunday morning, just before the beginning of the services, some mischievous boys, not having the fear of the Lord before their eyes, got hold of the book and pasted 'Old Grimes' over the favorite hymn. At the auspicious moment the book opened at the accustomed place, and the old preacher, after properly adjusting his glasses, slowly began: 'Old Grimes is dead, that good old man.' Amazed beyond description, the preacher instantly suspended the reading, carefully wiped off his glasses, looked appealingly to the congregation, and again solemnly and slowly began: 'Old Grimes is dead, that good old man.' The congregation now equally astonished with himself, the aged pastor suspended the reading, carefully removed his glasses, and laying down the book, solemnly observed: 'My beloved friends, I have been a-readin' and a-singin' outen this blessed book for nigh onto forty year, and I never seed this hymn in thar before; but it's _in thar,_ brethren, and we'll sing it through if it smashes up this meetin!'