Public ledger. [volume] (Memphis, Tenn.) 1865-1893, 1871-11-23
How Martial Law operates I'm South
CaroIfna-HOw the Negroes View
the Htgh-Hlnnded Proceedings.

lie was coming from the jail, where q
large number of Ku-K Klux prisoners were
incarcerated. | stopped him, being
struck with the intelligent, though sad
expression Of his face.
"Old man" said |, have you been to
the jail2"
q" Yes, boss" he replied Use been to
see my young massai dey got him in
dar."
For what2
For muffin in Gods world, boss, but
dat he is a Democratl"
Do they charge him with any crime? ??
"None dat he nor | knows on.
What" l exclaimed, doesn't he
know what he is put in Jail for2 "
No, sab; dat he don't. An ! know
dat de boy is as innocent o Ku-Kluxing
as you is or |. All the niggers will swar
to dat"
If there is nothing against him, why
don't they let him go"
"De Lord only knows, boss" he re-
piled, in the most earnest and mournful
manner. Dey say dey gwine to keep
EN- all in dere till way on to Christmas
times.
How long has your young master
been in iail?"
1.-Two weeks an better.
"And don't know what he was put in
jail for2"
mo more nor you, nor l. the old
man replied, shaking his head
Has he had no trial, nor hearing of
any kind?"
mo, sab. Layin' in Jail, boss, an no
chance Civ him o clarin' hissell "
"That is too bad. Is he married?
my young massa married2 Ha, ha,
hal No, boss He's picked him out a
gal, an soon as de milintary let's him
out 0 Jail he's gwine fur her; but he's
got a mother. Since old masters dead,
my young boss is her sole depindince,
She left all alone at home now; an she's
nigh distracted concarnin' Of his takin
off an lodgment in Jail. ] never 'spected
to see de day when my young boss would
be put in Jail, an fur muffin under God S
sun" said the old man, his eyes dimmcd
with tears of commingled sorrow and
Indignation.
We'll, what do you think of all this
business, anyhow, old man2 said |.
"Ah, boss, don't think much of It.
"What, are you not glad that the Ku-
Klux, the prosecutors of your race, are
being caught and put in jaill'
mo, boss aint glad De Ku-Kluxes
neber trouble me. ! never steal muffin
| neber burn nobody's barn. l neber
march about de country wild Scots me-
lish, wild muskets, an drums, an flags,
irving to 'timidate the white folks. Some
O de colored people say dey are glad de
white man is put in jail or driv out o de
country. But / amt. 1t hurts me to
see so many young men in Jail down dar,
huddled together like hogs IN pen
driv about like cattle-an' by dere own
color, too. White men treatin' white
men dat way is more l can understan'.
Drops big as buckshot comes up into my
ewes ebery time / looks at dat Jail, wild
my young boss Gagged in dere like he was
bear.
Here the good old African made a
pause, after which he said with an ur-
gency of tone that bespoke the sincerity
of his words
"Ah, boss, if ! was de President
of the United States I'd die before I'd
let my own people be crammed in Jail
dis way by sojers, an kept dere widout
hearin' I'd stop dis. Id set things
to rights''
bade the earnest cid negro good-by,
and passed on TO the gloomy Jail, where
Ku-Klux prisoners were huddled to-
gether like hogs in pen, an driv about
like cattle. | found the prisoners
guarded by soldiers as though they were
captives Of war. There was the dark,
dreary- looking building, with its grated
windows and forbidding aspect. There
beheld the sad faces of many an I'M
fortunate victim of Radical persecution
peering wistfully through the iron bars,
longing to be in the sweet sunshine with
out yearniRg for the homes where they
had left their loved ones in tears, in
loneliness, in despair. There stood the
grim sentinel, neat uniform and flashing
bayonet, guarding the entrance to the
Jail. There was the camp Of Grants
soldier S, the white tents and shady booths
dotting the green slope of the hill that
that swelled up in graceful outline
to the rear Of the prison-hOuse. And
here, thought |, is the seat of Grants
Rebellion! one of the dungeons, |
rather thought, selected for the
arbitrary imprisonment of the victims
of political persecution. This was my
first glimpse Of " the Rebellion. As |
looked upon the scene-the military
camp, the guarded Jail, and the quiet,
peaceful little village reposing upon the
hills around-i thought how in the midst
Of peace we are in war
II was a siekening sight to see these
men crowded in the narrow cells of this
dungeon, and narrowing to hear their
anxious inquiries: When shall we
have a hearingT asks one. Is our
trial never TO come OFF, exclaims
another. Twill the Government never
give us an opportunity of establishing
our innocencer says a third. Do
they never intend to tell us what we are
put in Jail for2 What specific offenses
we are charged with2" inquiries a fourth.
In the name OF God and humanity,
are we to lay here and rot in Jail with
out an investigation, a hearing, a trial
or even an accusation against us ? cries
a fifth. "Is there no law, nor liberty,
nor Justice in the land2 Are we to die
in prison, ignorant of the olienses for
which we have been arrested2' inquiries
a sixth.
| was beset by them. l made my
escape, glad to get into the free air and
sunlight once more. ! turned away
from the gloomy abode Of these victims
Of tyranny, thanking heaven that l had
no loved one incarcerated there, and
meditating upon mans inhumanity to
man" RICHLAED.