.. one thing, however, we all held in
common ... our innocence ... we were all innocent ... every one of us
was innocent of the crime charged against us ... we were just being
persecuted.
* * * * *
That afternoon a negro preacher, short and squat, who, innocent, was yet
being held for Grand Jury, delivered us a fearful half-chanted sermon on
the Judgment Day. I never heard so moving, compelling a sermon. I saw
the sky glowing like a furnace, the star-touching conflagration of the
End of Things rippling up the east in increasing waves of fire, in place
of the usual dawn ... I heard the crying of mankind ... of sinners ...
for mountains to topple over on them and cover them from the wrath of
the Lord....
* * * * *
"In co'hse I nevah done it," explained the preacher, "I had some hawgs
of mah own. Mah hawgs had an under-bit an' an ovah-bit in dere eahs, an'
de ones I's 'cused o' stealin', dey had only an ovah-bit. But heah dey's
got me, holdin' me foh de pen."
* * * * *
The little grey-faced pickpocket--caught at his trade at the Dallas
Fair, told me how easy it was to add an under-bit to an over-bit to the
ears of the two hogs stolen, "Sure that sneakin' niggah pahson did it,"
he averred--but all the while he likewise averred that _he_ hadn't
picked the pocket of the man from whom he was accused of stealing a
wallet.
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