“Honey, you woul’n’t knowed dat nigger. He wuz wet an’ muddy fum de bottom uv his feets up. He wuz bare haided an’ his clothes all tore. But, bless yo’ soul, chile, he wuz glad to git home. When I open de do’ he say, ‘Let me in, ole ’oman, fur I’s mos’ daid. De Ku Kluxes is been runnin’ me all night. Don’t make no fuss, but lem’me in.’ “Skeered as I wuz when I seed him I had to laugh. He look’ des lak a frizzly chicken wid de feathers turned de wrong way, an’ wuz des tremblin’ lak a leaf. Ever time I move my foot he jump lak he wuz hit, but when I tell him what de Kluxes say to me he ’clare, ‘Thank Gawd, Matt, ef dat be so I’s yo’ nigger so long as I live. You ain’t gwine to ketch me foolin’ wid po’ white foks an’ politics no mo’. Dis is my las’ time. I’s never been so skeered since de Lawd made me.’ “Yes, sir, an’ dat wuz his las’ meetin’, an’ when dem cearpet-baggers come sneakin’ ’roun’ at night he made me drive dem way des es same as ef dey had pizen. He went straight to wuck an’ fum dat day to dis he’s been quiet on politics. “But it wuz a long time ’fo’ I knowed what happened at de chuch dat night. Tite woul’n’t never talk ’bout it. Miss Jane heered all de fac’s an’ tell me. “It wuz lak dis. You’s been to Pineville chuch--I mean de col’ud chuch--de one dat sets on de big hill. At de time when Tite wuz flyin’ so high no white pusson lived close to de chuch. All de lan’ ’bout dere wuz in woods. De chuch is gut two do’s, one in de side an’ one at de een where de pulpit is. It wuz a good thing fur Tite dat de een do’ wuz dere. Dat’s all dat saved his life. “Tite an’ his niggers wuz at de chuch dat night an’ had de meetin’ gwine at nine. De onlies’ lamp in de house wuz on de pulpit. Tite wuz de fust speaker fur de ’cassion. He wuz to stir up de niggers fur de ’lection day. Dem cearpet-baggers done told him what to say. “De niggers all holler fur Parson Robinson an’ Tite step up in de pulpit an’ take off his stovepipe hat, set it on de table, button up his long coat, an’ start off lak dis: ‘Gents an’ Feller Citizens: I’s come here to-night to tell you dat de nigger’s ’bout to git what b’longs to ’em. De white foks is been on top long ’nuff. Ef de ’Publikins wins dis time ever nigger in dis house is gwine to git forty acres uv de bes’ lan’ in dis kermunity an’ a mule to wuck it wid.’ “‘Fur nuthin’, Mr. Robinson?’ ’low’ Ole Tom Moore. “‘Yes, Mr. Moore, fur nuthin’, fur it b’longs to ’em. Dat’s de truf. I’s done gut de deed fur mine, an’ all I’s gut to do is to move on after de ’lection, an’ go to town an’ git my mule.’ “‘Dat’s de truf,’ shouted Ole Bill Davis, a deekin in de chuch. “‘Tell it to ’em, brother! Come on wid some mo’ lak dat!’ “‘Dat’s whut we wants to heer,’ said de crowd. “Tite went on: ‘But on de yudder han’, ef de Demmycrats gits back in power, de las’ one uv you will go bac’ in slav’ry. De overseer wid his whup will be back. Mark whut I say fur it’s de truf!’ “‘We know it, Parson, tell it des lak it is!’