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 The iron hand of Fate is on us. We can only wait for the shadows to deepen into night. President Grant appears to be a babe in the woods. Schuyler Colfax, the Vice-president, and Belknap, the Secretary of War, are in the saddle in Washington. I hear things are happening there that are quite interesting. Besides, Congress now can give little relief. The real law-making power in America is the State Legislature. The State law-maker enters into the holy of holies of our daily life. Once more we are a sovereign State—a sovereign Negro State."

"I fear my mission is futile," said the doctor.

"It's ridiculous—I'll call for you to-night and take you to hear Lynch, our Lieutenant Governor. He is a remarkable man. Our negro Supreme Court Judge will preside"

Uncle Aleck, who had suddenly spied Dr. Cameron, broke in with a laughing welcome:

"I 'clar ter goodness, Dr. Cammun, I didn't know you wuz here, sah. I sho' glad ter see you. I axes yer ter come across de street ter my room; I got sumfin' pow'ful pertickler ter say ter you."

The doctor followed Aleck out of the Hall and across the street to his room in a little boarding-house. His door was locked, and the windows darkened by blinds. Instead of opening the blinds, he lighted a lamp.

"Ob cose, Dr. Cammun, you say nuffin 'bout what I gwine tell you?"

"Certainly not, Aleck."

The room was full of drygoods boxes. The space under