January 19, 1871, in the wee sma' hours, a cyclops and his retinue of seventy unceremoniously called at Judge Blackford's apartments to pay their respects. The call was intended as a sort of "surprise party"; but coming events had cast their shadows before, and those shadows were as premonitions of an early nocturnal visit, and the judge was "not at home." He was cautiously domiciled in a room adjoining his office, in another part of town. Here, in the embrace of Morpheus, perhaps reveling in dreams of a blessed land beyond the jurisdiction of the Grand Wizard, he was aroused with the cry of "Ku Klux!" by an alert negro, who had hastened from the judge's home to apprise him of the presence there of the unwelcome visitors. The alarm was not premature, for the horsemen were hotfooting in the wake of the negro and reached the office almost as soon as he. The judge needed no repetition of the dreadful tidings. His transition from Dreamland to earth was instantaneous, and his plunge in dishabille through an open window was a disappearing act worthy of reproduction on a dramatic stage. The weird sound of a whistle close at hand broke discordantly into the sweet concert of frogs, katydids and other melodists of the nights and accelerated the speed of him who sought asylum and ghostly solitude in the boneyard in the depths of the forest. Recounting the thrilling incidents of that awful night, and his sojourn of three nights in the gruesome refuge, Dr. Blackford, expressed bitter resentment of the rude treatment to which his glossy tile, which he abandoned in vanishing through the window, was subjected by the klansmen; they placed it on the end of a staff and bore it as a sort of mock pennant at the head of the cavalcade. Often trivial incidents, if ridiculous or amusing, eclipse those that are grave. It was so in the Eutaw riot, when a "plug hat" diverted dangerous men from an unlawful purpose,--but that is another story, and will be told in due time. For the next few days, Dr. Blackford camped at night and returned to his office in the morning. According to his own statement, a prominent Confederate general took him to his quarters in a hotel and promised him protection temporarily. One evening, in general conversation, the subject of the Ku Klux was broached, and the host imparted to his very receptive guest much information thereon. The klans pervaded the country, and were better organized than the Confederate army had ever been. There was no escape for a proscribed man if he should tarry when ordered to be on the move; when they dealt with a man, a klan from some other county or state did the work, and all residents could be seen pursuing their accustomed walks. "You are watched," he said, "day and night, and your whereabouts cannot long be concealed. On that night when the Ku Klux were after you, not more than one or two persons in the vicinity had knowledge of their coming."