While the above cursory remarks and party sparrings are going on,
some forty negroes are seen busily employed preparing the
indispensable adjuncts of the occasion-the meats. Here, beneath the
clump of trees, a few yards from the grocery and justices' office,
the candidates' tables are being spread with cold meats, crackers,
bread and cheese, cigars, &c., &c. As soon as the gentlemen
candidates have delivered themselves of their sentiments, two
barrels of real "straight-back" whiskey will be added.
"This is the way we puts our candidate through, down south, ye see,
fellers, voters: it's we what's the bone and siners o' the rights o'
the south. It's we what's got t' take the slow-coach politics out o'
the hands o' them ar' old harristocrats what don't think them ar'
northern abolitionists han't goin to do nothin. It's we, fellow
citizens, what puts southern-rights principles clean through; it's
we what puts them ar' old Union haristocrats, what spiles all the
nigger property, into the straight up way o' doing things! Now,
feller voters, free and independent citizens-freemen who have fought
for freedom,--you, whose old, grey-headed fathers died for freedom!
it takes you t' know what sort a thing freedom is; and how to enjoy
it so niggers can't take it away from you! I'ze lived north way,
know how it is! Yer jist the chaps to put niggers straight,--to vote
for my man, Colonel Mohpany," Mr. M'Fadden cries out at the very top
of his voice, as he comes rushing out of the tavern, edging his way
through the crowd, followed by the two candidates.
Pages:
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409