The testing fire

Contents

CHAPTER PAGE

I An Act of Mercy , n

II William Durham Has a Caller 21

Chapter I An Act Of Mercy

" Whoa ! whoa there ! What's the matter with you ? "

rA grave-looking, elderly man, driving slowly along a country road near Dothan, Alabama, awoke from a pleasant reverie and sought to quiet his horse, which had suddenly taken fright and nearly upset the buggy, turning quickly to one side.

" Whoa ! whoa, I say ! he continued, looking around to see the cause of the horse's fright. He soon discovered what had almost caused him disaster. A black man was lying insensible by the roadside, his clothing half torn from his body and his face covered with blood.

" A black dog ! " said the occupant of the buggy, who was the pastor of the Calvary Church, of Dothan, Rev. William Durham, as he drove the still frightened horse past the fallen negro.

" Don't be afraid, Meg," he went on, speaking gently to his horse ; " that black rascal can't hurt you now. Someone has given him just what he deserved, I'm sure."

And the pastor of the fashionable Calvary Church of the prosperous city of Dothan drove on in a ruffled mood. His pleasing reverie about the spiritual prosperity of his church had been rudely interrupted by the sudden appearance of the unconscious African.

" Ah ! " he exclaimed bitterly, speaking to himself aloud, " that is the dark shadow that is over all Alabama. It hangs like a menacing cloud over our future. The former chattel has become a possible if not an actual brute."

As he spoke the grave, kindly expression which was habitual to him left his face. His eyes shone with a steely glare. He gnashed his teeth together. William Durham seemed to change into another man altogether when the race problem of the South came into his mind. On every other subject he was calm and considerate, but he felt that it would be treason to everything good in his beloved Southland if he allowed himself to think dispassionately on the negro question.

He was only a boy when the war closed, bringing ruin to Alabama as to the other Southern States. His father, wounded in battle, died shortly after Lee's surrender at Appomattox Courthouse, broken-hearted and despairing for the future. The valuation of property in Alabama fell from $792,000,000 in i860 to $202,000,000 in 1865.

Worst of all, he remembered with the vividness of all early impressions the awful black government of the State for six terrible years, from 1868 to 1874, when the State debt rose from $8,000,000 to $25,000,000. The deeds of the " carpet-baggers " were burned into his memory as with a red-hot branding iron. He could never forget them. These old days were now long since past. The " carpet-bagger," a not unnatural result of the exigencies of the war, had disappeared forever. The State of Alabama had risen from its poverty to wealth and prosperity. Its marvelous resources of agriculture, cotton, coal and iron had been developed in a way undreamt of before the war in the old days of slave labor. Powerful cities were rising on every hand.

AN ACT OF MERCY 13

But, as far as the negro was concerned, William Durham still lived in the '70s. He had been a member of the Ku Klux Klan and had accompanied bands of them, while he was only a youth, on expeditions where the white man sternly proved his right to rule by the law of the naked sword. This account of his early life and its tragedies will easily explain why he passed by the wounded and helpless African with maledictions on his tongue. Outside the small circle of negroes who worked around the church and parsonage as servants, whom he treated with the utmost affability and even respect, the black man was to him always a source of the bitterest feeling. Of late years he had almost ceased to go North, as had been his custom formerly, so fierce had his discussions become with his Northern friends, who tried to show him that the negro should be considered as a possible man, rather than a possible and actual brute. Such talk meant to him nothing but " social equality," and this had been the nightmare of his life. It maddened him to hear his Northern friends call him " provincial," and make a jest of " social equality " as though it were outside the limits of rational discussion, for he feared its blighting curse day and night as a horrible possibility, and even as a coming actuality unless the line between white and black was marked in every way exactly like the line between man and brute.

For this reason he was especially opposed to the policy of the philanthropists of the North who were insulting the South and seeking to bridge nature's chasm between the negro and the Anglo-Saxon by educating, and therefore spoiling, the Africans. An educational institution for negroes had even been started in Dothan, to his intense disgust.

When he reached his comfortable parsonage that afternoon and had seated himself in his luxurious study it took him some time to regain his equanimity and to banish the bitter thoughts which the wounded negro had suggested. However, after reading a few chapters in his well-worn Bible he became himself again and proceeded with the preparation of his annual missionary sermon, which was to be delivered the following Sabbath and in which he was planning to show how the spread of the Gospel of Christ over all the world was the only hope for the coming brotherhood of man.

Half an hour, or less, after Rev. William Durham had passed by the unfortunate negro, who had been lying all that time half dead by the roadside, another citizen of ODothan drove along — Mr. Robert Leavitt, a deacon in the Calvary Church. Just as the deacon approached him the black man moved slightly and groaned and Mr. Leavitt brought his horse to a standstill. He was debating what to do. A naturally tender heart urged him to assist the poor black fellow, but on second thought he drove on quickly, saying to himself : " Some other black devil will come along soon and get him. I think that was some of Peter Legree's work," he went on musingly. " I remember meeting him and two other rough-looking fellows this afternoon. Legree is carrying things too far to suit me, but he is right on the black proposition and I guess we will have to let him have his way. The white vote must be kept solid at every cost, or we will have a black government again," and Deacon Leavitt's eyes took on the same steely glare that was observed in the eyes of his pastor as he thought of this same matter. Deacon Leavitt was not by any means so bitter in his memories of bygone years as the minister, for he was a younger man and only knew of the black government by hearsay,

AN ACT OF MERCY 15j

but he was at one with him in all his general conclusions in regard to the Afro-American.

The sound of Deacon Leavitt's rapidly disappearing vehicle awoke to consciousness the wounded black and he stared vacantly around him. He tried to rise, but sank back helplessly with a deep groan and again lapsed into unconsciousness.

A few moments later the sound of a trotting horse was heard, and, bowling swiftly along, a young man on horseback bore down on the scene. Suddenly catching sight of the unconscious man he pulled up his horse with a jerk and dismounted. Going to the side of the negro he stood looking at him for awhile.

" Poor devil," he said at last, looking around to see if there was anyone near to assist, " he's about used up."

" By George ! " he exclaimed a moment later as he knelt beside him, " he looks enough like our old Pete to be the good old fellow himself. I'm no saint, I confess, but I'll be d if I leave this poor black devil to

die like a dog in the ditch. What can I do ? "

He paused for a little while, and then, looking at the pool of blood which crimsoned the roadway, he exclaimed : " He needs a doctor right away or it will be too late."

He laughed a little to himself and observed, " What would Florence Ashley think of me now ? " as he lifted the bleeding victim bodily and placed him astride his horse.

The wounded man again groaned and opened his eyes.

" What's de matter, Massa ? " he asked, gazing in astonishment at the horse beneath him and at the young man by his side.

" Hold on the best you can, old fellow, and I'll try to get you to a doctor as quickly as I can," rejoined the other without making any further explanation.

The horse started on a quick walk, its master leading it and at the same time holding on as best he could the semi-unconscious negro.

The strange pair were met by several carriages, which turned out in silence, the occupants gazing in astonishment at the unusual sight, but none of them made any offer to assist the youthful humanitarian.

The young man's name was Jefferson Lilly, a native of 'Alabama, but a recent arrival in Dothan. His father had prospered in a mining venture in the northern part of the State, and at his rather early death he left his son a large property. The young man's mother had died when he was a boy and he had been educated away from home, finishing up his education with a year in Europe, which year of travel had broadened his mind and opened his eyes to many things.

He was in no regular business at the present time, but was spending a few months in Dothan, largely as a diversion, being drawn there by his friendship for a rising young lawyer, Donald Shelby, a college chum, who was introducing him to Dothan society and seeking to persuade him to settle down in that community.

"What would I do in Dothan?" Jefferson Lilly had asked his friend when this was proposed.

" We'll soon find you something to do," Donald Shelby had rejoined, " and meanwhile you can busy yourself cultivating the acquaintance of Miss Ashley."

Jefferson's eyes had flashed at this retort, as the chief reason for his prolonged visit to Dothan was the charm of Florence Ashley's presence. She was the daughter of a leading lawyer, a bewitching Southern beauty of the

AN ACT OF MERCY 17

Spanish type, and Donald had introduced them to each other soon after Jefferson's arrival.

" She is the idol of all the young men in Dothan," said Donald in his hearty Southern way, " but I want you to show these Dothan chaps how such a girl is won."

Jefferson was interested from the start. The trouble with him was that his life was aimless. Since his father's death he had drifted around, having no definite object for which to live, and discontented everywhere. Just before he came to Dothan he had been thinking of returning to Europe for an extended visit. But from their first meeting Florence Ashley had awakened a response in his soul. She fulfilled his dream of what a beautiful girl would be like. He began to dream dreams. They had one chord in common, a mutual love for music. Jefferson was an artist with his violin and had studied under European masters, while Florence was unusually gifted as a piano player. Perhaps it was the influence the girl was having on his life that made him so susceptible to the sufferings of the poor negro that afternoon. He had spent part of the morning in her company, practicing a duet which they were to render a few evenings later at an elaborate social function, and thoughts of her were filling his soul with music. He thought of her as he lifted the half-dead African on his horse, but he well knew she shared every Southern prejudice in regard to color and he was very doubtful if she would be pleased at his attempt to lift up a fallen black. She had positively refused to attend any social gatherings to which the cultured Northern teachers of the Harbison Freedmen's Institute were invited. This was the institution which had so aroused the ire of Rev. William Durham. It was the result of Northern philanthropy, and it was the intention of its founders to assist the South in its enormous task of elevating the Afro- Americans, but Dothan society, and Florence Ashley in particular, made no pretense of hiding their contempt for this species of unwelcome and to them wholly unnecessary benevolence.

It was only about a mile from the lonely spot where Jefferson found the negro to Dothan, but it seemed a long distance to the youth, and as he came nearer town and heard some of the comments by passers-by on his appearance he almost regretted his humanitarianism.

However, he was not the man to quit in either a love suit or in a work of mercy, and his travels had given him a certain confidence in himself which enabled him to return a defiant look to the angry glares that some Dothan citizens darted at him.

Stopping in front of the first hotel he saw he again lifted the almost unconscious man in his arms and carried him through the open doors into the hotel lobby. Before he had time to say a word he heard a rough voice exclaim : " Get out of here with your black dog ! " and the hotel keeper came from behind his desk with an angry glare and threatening gestures.

" This poor devil needs a doctor right away or he is a dead man. Let me lay him on the floor till I call a doctor to dress his wounds."

" Get out of here, I tell you ! " yelled the now thoroughly aroused hotel man. " Get out of here ! Let the black devil die. We don't need him. No niggers can enter my hotel."

There were two or three others in the hotel lobby, and after they had gotten over their first astonishment at Jefferson's audacity, they began jeering at him also. The young man quickly dropped his burden on the floor

Call III) «1 doctor to romp 1-i^r^ if r^n^a"

AN ACT OF MERCY 19

and whipping a revolver out of his pocket he pointed it directly at the hotel keeper, saying with stern emphasis and a look of fury:

" Call up a doctor to come here at once or, by God, you're a dead man."

There was a gleam almost of madness in Jefferson's eyes, and the hotel man cowered like a struck dog.

" Hurry ! " commanded the youth, standing over the prostrate black form and awing with his menacing looks the others in the lobby.

The landlord, thoroughly frightened, with trembling hands rang the telephone and summoned a doctor.

u Stand behind your desk, sir 1 " again commanded Jefferson, when the hotel man tried to pass out of a side door to the street. In a few moments the doctor appeared and took in the situation at a glance. Without a word he began to gently dress the gaping wounds in the negro's head and body, Jefferson all the while standing guard with his revolver.

It took the doctor over twenty minutes to bind up the wounds in a hasty manner, and all this time the selfappointed guardian of the African refused to allow landlord or guest in the hotel to move.

When he had finished his merciful ministry, the physician said quietly :

" I know this man. I will take him to his home. He is Nafti's father. Nafti works for me."

Somewhat surprised, but greatly relieved, Jefferson turned over the African to the kind-hearted physician. His brief term of office as a helper of the negro in Alabama had quickly revealed what older men have known for a long time, that the fate of the African in the world seems to be to make white men quarrel over him. After helping the patient, who had now somewhat revived, into the doctor's buggy, Jefferson returned to the hotel, threw a $5 note on the desk and started out.

The hotel man had somewhat recovered himself and with an oath he pushed back the bill, saying : " I don't want your money, you white nigger."

Jefferson never knew himself just what happened after that. The insult stung him to madness. He rushed at the hotel man, threw him on the floor and seemed about to crush the life out of him when the frightened bystanders interfered. Jefferson became calmer. " You can thank your stars you are a living man," he hissed sternly to the prostrate hotel keeper. " You have a heart blacker than the skin of a negro."

Without another word, and leaving the money lying on the floor, he strode out of the hotel, mounted his horse and galloped away. He escaped just in time, for a large crowd quickly gathered, and had Jefferson been there a riot must have resulted.

Great events often hang on small causes. One spark of fire has destroyed a great city. A few thoughtless words have ruined a most promising political career. A small book, written by a woman, has been the occasion of one of the bloodiest wars in history, the final results of which will be as lasting as time. So this single act of unpremeditated mercy which Jefferson Lilly showed to a half-dead negro brought forth results which were astounding and which gave Dothan a world-wide name.

Chapter II

On the Sabbath following the incidents related in the previous chapter William Durham preached his annual missionary sermon. It was an eloquent and convincing appeal, and the large congregation listened with intense interest. William Durham was a late convert to the foreign mission cause of his church, but he had become an enthusiastic advocate for world-wide missions in recent years, especially after the Ecumenical Missionary Conference held in New York City in 1900.

Benjamin Harrison, ex-President of the United States, presided at this remarkable gathering, which included Christian leaders from almost every church and every land, and in his opening speech he made some statements which clung to William Durham's mind like the flavor of wine to a vessel. " With the increase of commerce and wealth," exclaimed that statesman, " the stress of social difficulties is not relieved, but increases in all the great nations. The tendency is not to one brotherhood, but to many. Christ in the heart and his gospel of love and ministry in all the activities of life are the only cure."

Mr. Durham repeated these words in his sermon, and eloquently pleaded with the congregation to support the spread of Christ's Gospel everywhere. " The nineteenth century has made the world one neighborhood," he cried out in prophetic tones. " It is the Christian duty of the twentieth century to make the world one brotherhood."

It was a fashionable audience that greeted the minister that day. Dothan society attended Calvary Church almost exclusively. All were following the sermon with attention, but soon after he began Mr. Durham noticed a stranger eagerly listening to him from the Waynor pew. The Waynors were the leaders in Dothan's best society — wealthy, cultured and devout. Accompanying them this morning was a young lady of prepossessing appearance, with fresh, young face, bright eyes and ruby lips. At a glance one could tell she was a Northerner, for her beauty was altogether distinct from the Southern type.

If Mr. Durham had been a younger man the earnest gaze with which she watched his every movement and the eagerness with which she listened to his discourse would have flattered him, but, as it was, he was perplexed. During the sermon he kept asking himself, when he looked her way, " Who is she ? "

At the close of the service he pressed forward to the Waynor pew, and was soon introduced to the interesting stranger.

" Mr. Durham," said Mrs. Waynor, " this is my niece, Miss Rose Atkinson, from Pittsburg, Pa." There was a shade of embarrassment, unusual in Mrs. Waynor's manner, which did not escape Mr. Durham's notice, and which naturally increased his perplexity.

" You seem to be able to enjoy a missionary sermon," he remarked, after Miss Atkinson had expressed her pleasure at being permitted to be present on the occasion. ,

" I certainly enjoyed your sermon to-day. Your sentiments are beautiful, so beautiful. I want to thank you for them. I am pleased to hear such sermons in the South."

Mr. Durham's perplexity was turning to pleasure. " I hope your niece will make you a long visit," he said to Mrs. Way nor in parting.

Mrs. Waynor blushed and replied with some confusion, " We do not have much control over Rose."

" There's some mystery here," said Mr. Durham to himself, as he passed on to greet the other members of his church.

Among others he met Jefferson Lilly, who thanked the minister warmly for his message. " I am not a churchman," said the young fellow, " but your sermon has set me to thinking. I will come again."

Jefferson had left Dothan on the very evening of his exciting experience with the hotel keeper, making a short visit to Montgomery, and had just returned early that Sabbath morning. As he confessed to Mr. Durham, he was not a churchman. In college he began to doubt the value of religion, and being an honest fellow he had dropped out of all church connections. But that morning he felt something within him urging him to attend Calvary Church. It may only have been a desire to see Florence Ashley, who sang in the choir, but at any rate the service and sermon impressed him as no church service had done since his boyhood days.

Like Mr. Durham and many others in the congregation, he had noticed the young Northern beauty in the Waynor pew, and as he passed out Mrs. Waynor, who had met him at a social function, greeted him cordially and introduced him to Miss Atkinson.

" I am glad to see you here to-day," said Mrs. Waynor. " I was told you never attended church, but I knew that it must be a mistake."

" I am glad to be here to-day," he responded. " That sermon had a ring about it which attracts me."

" How delighted I am to hear you say so ! " said Rose Atkinson with enthusiasm.

" My niece is fanatical on missionary subjects," said Mrs. Waynor with the same kind of embarrassment that puzzled Mr. Durham.

Jefferson noticed it also and wondered. It increased his interest in Miss Atkinson.

The next day Rev. William Durham was surprised and pleased to receive a call from the Northern girl. One of the younger Waynor girls accompanied her, and the maid ushered them up to the minister's study.

" This is an unexpected pleasure," said Mr. Durham, as he bowed his visitors to their seats.

" I told aunt that I wanted to come to see you first of all," began the girl abruptly. " You see I had not expected to join any Southern church during my stay in Alabama, but your sermon showed me I will be welcomed by you at least as a fellow-member in the Calvary Church."

" Do you expect to make Dothan your home for some time?" asked Mr. Durham in surprise.

" That is my present intention, although auntie says she hopes it is only a temporary fad of mine."

Mr. Durham of course at once concluded that Miss Atkinson had come South to make her home with her aunt for some time, and he was naturally desirous of adding such an enthusiastic personality to the membership of Calvary Church.

" We shall be delighted to receive you as a member of our church," he exclaimed with enthusiasm. " We need your help here. Most of our young ladies are too much interested in social matters to give the spiritual side of their lives adequate attention, and on such girls as Florence Ashley your influence is just what is needed."

" How delightful of you to say so ! Why, auntie didn't think you would want to receive me as a member at all."

" Mrs. Waynor was mistaken. You know, Miss Atkinson, after all the Church of Christ is one everywhere. We have the same Bible, the same Gospel and the same God."

" You are not like another Rev. Durham I met some time ago in Hambright, North Carolina," said the girl with some surprise.

" Have you ever been in Hambright ? " responded the minister quickly. " Why, that was my older brother, John, whom you met there. He has been a pastor in Hambright for over half a century."

" I am sorry to hear you say he is your brother," answered the girl frankly. " He seemed to me to have a poor influence over that village, judging from the spirit of the people. I thought him a bitter, narrow and altogether antiquated failure. Pardon me for saying this, but I have hard work to keep from despising him. I cannot imagine him to be really a brother of yours."

Mr. Durham laughed heartily, and replied, " You must have mentioned the word ' negro ' to brother John or you would not have formed such an awful opinion about him. Apart from that subject he is a genial and lovable man, but I acknowledge," added the minister, growing serious in his tone, " that the very word ' negro ' of late has seemed to sour all the milk of human kindness in his nature."

" Of course, I talked to him about the negro," said the girl with spirit.

Mr. Durham saw that he had for the moment forgotten that Miss Atkinson was from Pittsburg, Pa., where a total ignorance of the awful menace of color made even the best people unsympathetic with the fearful struggle the whites in the Southland were waging for the very existence of the Anglo-Saxon race. He determined to turn the conversation back to its former agreeable channel.

" So you expect to become a member of our church while you are in Dothan ? " he said after a brief pause.

" Yes, if you will have me."

" I welcome you right here and now," said the minister, reaching out his hand heartily. " We can arrange to receive you publicly next Sabbath. I expect you have your church letter with you."

All this time the young Waynor girl, a miss of about fifteen years of age, had been amusing herself looking at an illustrated magazine. She had heard the conversation, but had taken no part in it whatever until just now, when she heard Miss Atkinson say : " Auntie told me it would be of no use to bring my church letter or I should have brought it with me from Pittsburg, but I can write for it at once. I wonder what made auntie think you did not want me for a church member?"

" I think, cousin," said the Waynor miss innocently, " it was because you were going to teach at the Harbison Institute."

" What ! " It was Mr. Durham who almost shouted out this word. The color had left his face and he was pale as death. His teeth came together like a steel trap. His eyes stared madly. He clenched his hands and fell back in his chair, as horrified as Macbeth was at the apparition of Banquo's ghost.

Rose Atkinson was frightened. She was sure the good minister had suddenly been stricken with a paroxysm of pain or a stroke of apoplexy.

" What is the matter, Mr. Durham ? " she asked excitedly.

The minister began to recover himself, but he did not speak for a few moments. His breathing came heavily and he seemed utterly exhausted. Finally, after a tense silence, he turned to Rose with a look of pathos in his eyes which she never forgot, and said plaintively, " It is not true, is it? "

M What is not true ? " she inquired in amazement.

" It is not true what your cousia has just said, that you are going to teach in the Harbison Institute, and throw your life away on those niggers." The last word was hissed out contemptuously.

Now was the time for Rose Atkinson to make a startling discovery. This awful change of manner, which made the minister an altogether different man, had come over him the moment he knew she was about to lend a hand to help lift up a prostrate race. She saw it all in a flash like lightning, and she was almost blinded by the revelation. Very evidently Mr. Durham had been entirely ignorant of her purpose in coming to Dothan or she would have met with a very different reception from him. John Durham, of Hambright, and William Durham, of Dothan, were brothers in spirit if not in appearance. She was disappointed, bitterly disappointed. The sermon of the previous day had thrilled her soul and lifted up her hopes. She had believed that Mr. Durham knew all the time she was expecting to devote her life to the work of Harbison Institute, and she was delighted that her aunt's pastor had received her so favorably in spite of this fact. But now all her dreams of Christian fellowship in his church were ended. She knew well from his manner that to teach in Harbison Institute was, in his eyes, a crime against the Southland and the whole