“You bet he’s runnin’ it. He showed me his bill to confiscate the property of the rebels and give it to the truly loyal and the niggers. It’s a hummer. You ought to have seen the old man’s eyes flash fire when he pulled that bill out of his desk and read it to me.” “When will he pass it?” “Two years, yet. He told me the fools up North were not quite ready for it; and that he had two other bills first, that would run the South crazy and so fire the North that he could pass anything he wanted and hang old Andy Johnson besides.” “Praise God,” shouted Tim, as he threw his arms around Legree and hugged him. Tim kept his kinky hair cut close, and when excited he had a way of wrinkling his scalp so as to lift his ears up and down like a mule. His lips were big and thick, and he combed assiduously a tiny moustache which he tried in vain to pull out in straight Napoleonic style. He worked his scalp and ears vigourously as he exclaimed, “Tell us the whole plan, brother!” “The plan’s simple,” said Legree. “Mr. Stevens is going to give the nigger the ballot, and take it from enough white men to give the niggers a majority. Then he will kick old Andy Johnson out of the White House, put the gag on the Supreme Court so the South can’t appeal, pass his bill to confiscate the property of the rebels and give it to loyal men and the niggers, and run the rebels out.” “And the beauty of the plan is,” said Tim with unction, “that they are going to allow the Negro to vote to give himself the ballot and not allow the white man to vote against it. That’s what I call a dead sure thing.” Tim drew himself up, a sardonic grin revealing his white teeth from ear to ear, and burst into an impassioned harangue to the excited group. He was endowed with native eloquence, and had graduated from a college in Canada under the private tutorship of its professors. He was well versed in English History. He could hold an audience of negroes spell bound, and his audacity commanded the attention of the boldest white man who heard him. Legree, Perkins and Haley cheered his wild utterances and urged him to greater flights. He paused as though about to stop when Legree, evidently surprised and delighted at his powers said, “Go on! Go on!” “Yes, go on,” shouted Perkins. “We are done with race and colour lines.” A dreamy look came to Tim’s eyes as he continued, “Our proud white aristocrats of the South are in a panic it seems. They fear the coming power of the Negro. They fear their Desdemonas may be fascinated again by an Othello! Well, Othello’s day has come at last. If he has dreamed dreams in the past his tongue dared not speak, the day is fast coming when he will put these dreams into deeds, not words. “The South has not paid the penalties of her crimes. The work of the conqueror has not yet been done in this land. Our work now is to bring the proud low and exalt the lowly. This is the first duty of the conqueror.