Thither then the people were flocking to-day, ostensibly to witness the trial of the slayers of Bud and Foresta, but in reality to pass final judgment upon the claims of the young prosecuting attorney who had announced himself a candidate to succeed the deceased Congressman. The ability of the young man was unquestioned and his exposition of the fundamental principles of the Democratic party was all that could be desired, they felt, but they wanted to hear him on the one question that was the final test of his acceptability, his attitude on the race question. The court assembled and the crowds poured in. The prosecuting attorney, H. Clay Maul, son of Gen. Maul, after whom the town was named, arrived early and took his seat, his earnest face wearing the look of a determined man sure of his course. Well did he know how much was involved for himself personally in what was to transpire that day, but he had vowed on the previous night, which he had spent at his mother's grave, that he would do his duty regardless of its effect upon his own future. The first case to be called was that of the man designated by the mob to apply the torch. The chief concern of the defense was in the matter of securing a jury. They expected the judge to do his duty, and the prosecuting attorney to put forth his best efforts to convict. But their reliance was in a jury in whom the race instinct would triumph over every other consideration and cause it to bring in a verdict of not guilty. It was at last young Maul's time to speak and he arose, slightly nervous. He hesitated an instant before beginning. All the hopes of his deceased father concerning him, all the dreams of his boyhood, all the blandishments of fame and power came surging to his mind and his Ego said, "Spare thyself. Thy sacrifice will be in vain." Overcome by conflicting emotions that gathered in his bosom at this moment, he waved his hand to the audience as if to say, "Wait," and sat down. His eyes were directed to the floor and his hand still outstretched to the audience, giving the people to understand that he was yet to be heard from. Every eye in the room was now upon him, and all were conscious that a supreme struggle was going on in his bosom. At last he stood up, a smile of triumph upon his face. And thus it was that a son of the New South came into his spiritual inheritance. The audience was more eager now than ever to hear every word of the forthcoming speech, and as it forever fixed the status of the young man with his fellows, we give enough of it to our readers to warrant them in passing judgment on the judgment of the people of Maulville, Miss. Said he: