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Updated: May 21, 2025
The election was held under the authority of the Governor's proclamation, and the Democratic candidates, Claiborne and Gholson, were elected by default.
I rejoice and am glad when I'm reviled and persecuted by the hounds of hell, and spoken evil against falsely for my religion's sake." "Now, Gholson, that's nonsense!" "O oh! that's what it's for! that's what he meant by 'slang-whanging. That's what it's for from first to last, no matter what it's for in between; and I know what it's for in between, too, and Ned Ferry knows.
"My sakes! yo' pow'ful welcome, Mr. Wholesome; just wait till I call off my dogs, sir, and I'll let you in." When the dogs came at the Squire's call I breathed relief. Ferry appeared behind me and beckoned me deeper into the grove. He sank upon a stump, whispering "That was worse than ten fights." "Who was it?" I asked. "Where is he?" He pointed to the field gate through which Gholson had come.
With an arresting eye I offered a sprightly comment on the heat of the day, and while she was replying with the same gaiety I whispered "Take him with you." How nimbly her mind moved! "Oh Mr. Gholson!" she said, and laughed to gain an instant for invention. "Mr. Gholson, can you tell me the first line of the last hymn we sang this morning?"
On the way back Gholson and I rode for a time near enough to Squire Sessions and Ned Ferry to know the sermon was being discussed by them, and something they said gave my companion occasion to murmur to me in a tone of eager censure that Ned Ferry's morals were better than his religion. I said I wished mine were. "Ah, Smith, be not deceived!
"Ned Ferry! What does Ned Ferry know about my fitness?" "Read the address on your despatch," said Gholson, resuming his pen. I snatched the document from my bosom, into which I had thrust it to seize the General's hand "Oh, Gholson!" I said, in deep-toned grief, as I looked up from the superscription, "is that honest!"
For Gholson, despite the sappy fetor of his mental temperament, had abilities that made him almost a private secretary to the General. Who, nevertheless, knew him thoroughly. When I had described Oliver's escape and would have hurried on to later details, General Austin raised a hand. "Hold on; you say nearly everybody fired at Oliver; who did not?" "I did not, General."
Gholson fired; Oliver silently fell forward; with a stifled cry the girl sprang to him and drew his head into her lap, and he softly straightened out and was still. "Oh, sweet Jesus!" she cried, "Oh, sweet Jesus!" The amused Colonel held the lantern close down. "He's all right, Brother Gholson," was his verdict; the ball had gone to the heart.
Gholson had barely caught his breath to demur when old Dismukes, roaring and snarling like a huge dog, whipped out his revolver, clutched the sick man's bosom, and hanging over him and bellowing blasphemies, yelled into his very teeth "Come!" We galloped.
Even a crocodile, I believed, could suffer from chagrin, give him as many good causes as Gholson had accumulated. But no, the heaven of "Charlie Tolliver's" presence and commands she seemed to have taken entire possession of him lifted and sustained him above the clouds of all unkinder things. A faint stir at the threshold caught my ear and I discerned in the hall a young negro woman.
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