Anyhow, when the time came to elect members of the Legislature (the constitutional convention had already been held), Hamp was chosen to be the candidate of the negro Republicans. A white man wanted to run, but the negroes said they preferred their own color, and they had their way. They had their way at the polls, too, for, as nearly all the whites who would have voted had served in the Confederate army, they were at that time disfranchised. So Hamp was elected overwhelmingly, “worl’ widout een’,” as he put it, and the effect it had on him was a perfect illustration of one aspect of human nature. Before and during the election (which lasted three days) Hamp had been going around puffed up with importance. He wore a blue army overcoat and a stove-pipe hat, and went about smoking a big cigar. When the election was over, and he was declared the choice of the county, he collapsed. His dignity all disappeared. His air of self-importance and confidence deserted him. His responsibilities seemed to weigh him down. He had once “rolled” in the little printing-office where the machinery consisted of a No. 2 Washington hand-press, a wooden imposing-stone, three stands for the cases, a rickety table for “wetting down” the paper, and a tub in which to wash the forms. This office chanced to be my headquarters, and the day after the election I was somewhat surprised to see Hamp saunter in. So was Major Tumlin Perdue, who was reading the exchanges. “He’s come to demand a retraction,” remarked the Major, “and you’ll have to set him right. He’s no longer plain Hamp; he’s the Hon. Hamp—what’s your other name?” turning to the negro. “Hamp Tumlin my fergiven name, suh. I thought ’Nervy Ann tol’ you dat.” “Why, who named you after me?” inquired the Major, somewhat angrily. “Me an’ ’Nervy Ann fix it up, suh. She say it’s about de purtiest name in town.” The Major melted a little, but his bristles rose again, as it were. “Look here, Hamp!” he exclaimed in a tone that nobody ever forgot or misinterpreted; “don’t you go and stick Perdue onto it. I won’t stand that!” “No, suh!” responded Hamp. “I started ter do it, but ’Nervy Ann say she ain’t gwine ter have de Perdue name bandied about up dar whar de Legislature’s at.” [Illustration: He wore a blue army overcoat and a stove-pipe hat.] Again the Major thawed, and though he looked long at Hamp it was with friendly eyes. He seemed to be studying the negro—“sizing him up,” as the saying is. For a newly elected member of the Legislature, Hamp seemed to take a great deal of interest in the old duties he once performed about the office. He went first to the box in which the “roller” was kept, and felt of its surface carefully. “You’ll hatter have a bran new roller ’fo’ de mont’s out,” he said, “an’ I won’t be here to he’p you make it.” Then he went to the roller-frame, turned the handle, and looked at the wooden cylinders. “Dey don’t look atter it like I use ter, suh; an’ dish yer frame monst’us shackly.”