Bellows Falls times. [volume] (Bellows Falls, Vt.) 1856-1965, 1868-02-21
The Voting In Alabama.

teresting sketch of the scenes at the bal
lot box:
The column of negroes waiting to vote
is jammed together as if by some uncon-
trollable muscular impulse, but it surges
back whenever the barrier of the first
policeman threatens to give way. They
do not talk to each other, deeming silence
perhaps, to be due to the sacred impor-
lance of the question. If their eye
catches yours (you are Caucasian, re-
member), it falls with an expression of
embarrassment, as if they felt that you,
being white, looked with keen disfavor
on the act they had drawn up to perform.
Falstaff's recruits were not greater rag
mullins. Look at the garb of these ne
groes, and | defy you to point out one
unpatched garment in fifty. Gray coats
and blue coats, worn out three years ago,
still are forced to serve in tattered sar.
torial invalid corps. One coat doubt
less for Sundays and elections) is made
of cheap ingram earpeting. The panta
looms are more shred-like than the coats !;
the hats advanced to all degrees Of or
ganic decay. Not one in twenty wear
boots, and few of the shoes retain much
of their original homely integrity. In
shape they might inclose either small
ham, or the foot of any human being de-
formed by toll among the clods of cotton
fields. If you study the heads and faces
you will find more indications of gem
tie, submissive, ease-loving heart than Of
active intelligence or ambitious DISPOSE
ton. Enter the first voter. He takes
off his hat, and nervously gives his name
to the judges. They run over the regis
tration list So do the conservative chal-
lengers, who, as you see, are afforded
every facility to contest and analyze. If
the negro has smooth face they demand
that he swear to his age, and he is accor-
dinghy sworn. If his name be found the
Judges announce the column in which it
stands, and the challengers check it off.
In vain the voter, seeing his vote glide
into the box, and making his own way
out, strive to choke down the delight that
fills him. If you ever saw an amateur
gamester win heavy stake, you watched
the same sort of smile on his face as on
the homely countenance of this happy
freedman Enter the second This mid
die aged negro deliberately takes off his
mittens, removes his hat, runs one hand
under his vest, produces little package,
unwraps the rag around it, and at last
hands in the paper treasure. ooh, the
devil be quick" says the judge, rap
ping irately on the window 9" Put on
your hat, uncle-that humility's played
out" says one Of the challengers with q
laugh. But the voter has his own views
as to the hat. Perhaps he stands uncov-
cred to the ballot and not to man. His
ticket drops into the box, and he stumps
off, irradiated. The third. "Another
George Washington" Another vote,
too, and another chuckle. The fourth.
The name of this one cannot be found.
"Go to headquarters of registration"
says the judge; /" if your name is there
they will give you certificate enabling
you to vote" "Pve been thar" sorrow
fully rejoins the applicant. "Taint
thar" Sorry" says the judge; make
room, make ROOM Now / ask you too
watch this poor fellow. He comes out
looking sick at heart A bright mulatto
takes him aside, and inquiries into his
case. 1t is hopeless-name not register
ed at all. The disappointed darby wan
ders around for ten minutes, then he quiz
city falls again into the rear of the line,
to be repulsed again when he reaches the
window.
Hope that his name may have been
overlooked dies out at last, but not with
ont the sharpest pang his simple but emo
tional nature can feel. The fifth. "Mv
name is Henry Clay" "All right, Hen
ry, you can vote; you're registered. But
where were you born?" In Kentucky,
sir; Henry Clay of Ashland was my
father" And the tall, handsome mulat-
to bows and makes his way out. The
sixth This is another of the persevering
kind. He gives his name. "Be off,"
says the judge. You have been here
already half dozen times. You say YOU
are not registered" "Well sah," replies
tho sorrowful negro, Use been hyah
evan since Tuesday trying to vote at one
place or nuther, and l hasn't had bit to
eat, and I can't vote, and Use got to
walk twelve miles to git home.' The
red-nosed, cross looking judge takes a
biscuit from his pocket and hands it to
the negro, with Here make room, now
One of the challengers says: Boys, the
conservatives have the name of being
generous. Let's give this hungry man a
dinner The speaker draws his pocket