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 Ben strolled out in the street to hear the news.

The Constitution had been ratified by an enormous majority, and a Legislature elected composed of 101 negroes and 23 white men. Silas Lynch had been elected Lieutenant-Governor, a negro Secretary of State, a negro Treasurer, and a negro Justice of the Supreme Court.

When Bizzel, the wizzen-faced agent of the Freedman's Bureau, made this announcement from the court house steps, pandemonium broke loose. An incessant rattle of musketry began in which ball cartridges were used, the missles whistling over the town in every direction. Yet within half an hour the square was deserted and a strange quiet followed the storm.

Old Aleck staggered by the hotel, his drunkenness having reached the religious stage.

"Behold, a curiosity, gentlemen," cried Ben to a group of boys who had gathered, "a voter is come among us—in fact, he is the people, the king, our representative elect, the Honourable Alexander Lenoir, of the county of Ulster!"

"Gemmens, de Lawd's bin good ter me," said Aleck, weeping copiously.

"They say the rat labels were in a majority in this precinct—how was that?" asked Ben.

"Yessah—dat what de scornful say—dem dat sets in de seat o'de scornful, but de Lawd er Hosts He fetch em low. Mistah Bissel de Buro man count all dem rat votes right, sah—dey couldn't fool him—he know what dey mean—he count 'em all for me an' de ratification."

"Sure—pop!" said Ben; "if you can't ratify with a rat, I'd like to know why?"