The Stranger’s Appeal
He was tall and angular and had a keen gray eye and a face. His dark coat was buttoned high and had something of a cut. His pepper and salt almost cleared the tops of his shoes, but his tall hat was undeniably respectable, and one would have said he was a country out for a holiday. He was driving a light wagon, and he stopped and climbed out when he came up to where five or six men were sitting on the post-office in a little country town in Texas.
“My friends,” he said, “you all look like intelligent men, and I feel it my duty to say a few words to you in regard to the terrible and state of things now existing in this section of the country. I refer to the horrible recently in the midst of some of the most civilized of Texas towns, when human beings created in the image of their Maker were subjected to cruel torture and then inhumanly burned in the public streets. Something must be done to wipe the stigma from the fair name of your state. Do you not agree with me?”
“Are you from Galveston, stranger?” asked one of the men.
“No, sir. I am from Massachusetts, the of liberty of the , and the home of the champions of his cause. These burnings are causing us to weep tears of blood and I am here to see if I can not move your hearts to pity on his behalf.”
“I guess you might as well drive on,” said one of the group. “We are going to look out for ourselves and just so long as negroes keep on committing the crimes they have, just so long will we punish them.”
“And you will not of the lives you have taken by the horrible agency of fire?”
“Nary repent.”
“And you will continue to visit upon them the horrible suffering of being burned to death?”
“If the occasion demands it.”
“Well, then, gentlemen, since you are so determined, I want to sell you a few gross of the cheapest matches you ever laid your eyes upon. Step out to the wagon and see them. Warranted not to go out in a strong wind, and to strike on anything, wood, bricks, glass, bloomers, boot soles and iron. How many boxes will you take, gentlemen?”