The speaking began at nine o’clock. Every discordant element of the old South’s furious political passions was now melted into harmonious unity. Whig and Democrat who had fought one another with relentless hatred sat side by side on that platform. Secessionist and Unionist now clasped hands. It was a White Man’s Party, and against it stood in solid array the Black Man’s Party, led by Simon Legree. Henceforth there could be but one issue, are you a White Man or a Negro? They declared there was but one question to be settled:-- “_Shall the future American be an Anglo-Saxon or a Mulatto?_” These determined impassioned men believed that this question was more important than any theory of tariff or finance and that it was larger than the South, or even the nation, and held in its solution the brightest hopes of the progress of the human race. And they believed that they were ordained of God in this crisis to give this question its first authoritative answer. The state burst into a flame of excitement that fused in its white heat the whole Anglo-Saxon race. In vain Hogg marched and counter-marched his twenty thousand state troops. They only added fuel to the fire. If they arrested a man, he became forthwith a hero and was given an ovation. They sent bands of music and played at the jail doors, and the ladies filled the jail with every delicacy that could tempt the appetite or appeal to the senses. Hogg and Legree were in a panic of fear with the certainty of defeat, exposure and a felon’s cell yawning before them. Two days before the election, the prayer meeting was held at eight o’clock in the Baptist church at Ham-bright. It was the usual mid-week service, but the attendance was unusually large. After the meeting, the Preacher, Major Dameron, and eleven men quietly walked back to the church and assembled in the pastor’s study. The door opened at the rear of the church and could be approached by a side street. “Gentlemen,” said Major Dameron, “I’ve asked you here to-night to deliver to you the most important order I have ever given, and to have Dr. Durham as our chaplain to aid me in impressing on you its great urgency.” “We’re ready for orders, Chief,” said young Ambrose Kline, the deacon’s son. “You are to call out every troop of the Klan in full force the night before the election. You are to visit every negro in the county, and warn every one as he values his life not to approach the polls at this election. Those who come, will be allowed to vote without molestation. All cowards will stay at home. Any man, black or white, who can be scared out of his ballot is not fit to have one. Back of every ballot is the red blood of the man that votes. The ballot is force. This is simply a test of manhood. It will be enough to show who is fit to rule the state. As the masters of the eleven township lodges of the Klan, you are the sole guardians of society to-day. When a civilised government has been restored, your work will be done.”