New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1882-08-28
THE STORY OF A CRIME.
A "REMINISCENCES OF THE WHITE LEAGUE.
now THE PEOPLE OF PORT GIBSON, MISS. PAID
DEBT OF GSATTUDE DUE AN OLD c0LoRED
MAN-HARRIsON PAGES SAD EXPERTENCE.
by TtLtGEAIU I'd TIE IklHUNtI

WASHINGTON. Aug. 27.-ln 1875 Harold H. Wal
lace. Northern man by birth. was the owner and
cultivator of cotton plantation near Port Gibson.
Miss Possessed OF strong constitution, he bravcd
the terrors of the Southern summer, and remained
at his home gong and coming at will, even during
the terrible visitation of that year and escaping
untouched by the finger ofdisease while the native
born of both races died about HIM in dozens.
How long will il lasti" be asked Of DR.. Book
one day as the two sat upon the piazza oil the VII
lage hotel. looking of upon the river.
Until the frost comes,' was the reply, followed
by the inquiry from the doctor, Are you afraid !"
"Of starvation yes; of yellow jack, no." an
swered Mr. Wallace.
You Yankees are a little too sure sometimes"
observed the doctor. However. come uD to my home
You shan't starve. Uncle jim Page. one Cf my
old niggcrs came in to-day He's got a plantation
outside and * doing famously. He brought IN
wagon load of provisions and sent the wagon back
empty by one of his boys He's anxious 10 do some
thing for the people here dying of like rotten sheep
He says he is going 10 stop here as a nurse. His
three boys are capital marksmen and will keep Us
supplied with game, and the steamers are bring
ing food from the North. so need not fear star
vatlon."
Dr. Book was an cx-Rebel and at the time of this
interview a bitter Bourbon in politics. Mr. Wallace
did not accept the invitation, but on a subsequent
occasion met and became acquainted with " Uncle
Jim whom he learned to admire as the possessor
of one of the warmest hearts that beat in SYM
pathy WITH the distressed The old man, though
uueducated. was iutell cent, and as the acquaint-
ance rpened he spent hours III inqulrlng Of his
Northern friends about the early friends of his
race-Garrison, Phillips and Sumner. He had taken
a pllntauon hired q gang Of his fellow -freemen to
work It, and was doing well raising cotton. His
sons were bright young fellows, Harrison, the
eldest. being tho champion marksman of the
county. Bob " and Josh were fine strong fel
lows also and gOod marksnen. and these three did
what they could VIII tnel. dogs and guns To Keep
the people Of Port Gibson supplied with game during
the prevalence Of the plague With the cold weather
came relief from the scourge. Business gradually
resumed its accustomed ways and Port Gibson be-
came rs before the visitation A prosperous season
for Uncle Jim and his family followed. Beside his
three sons had two daughters pretty, bright, in
telIgent girls, at school in Oberlin, Ohio. Harrison
Page, who lived mile and half nearer the town,
had three or four children If his own, who gave
promise of Intelligence and ability. With the next
summer came the political conventions, followed by
an exciting canvass il the South, IN which Harrl-
sou Page took part as a local Republican leader.
Mr.. Wallace was sitting on the hotel piazza. en-
young man who occupied seat at the table next to
his came our.
Have you heard the news, Wallace p be said.
"No. What Is it Harrington 7" replied Mr. Val
lace.
"Dr Book has been shot by Harrison Page"
Nonsense what a foolish report~ said Mr.. Wal
lace. VINO had seen Harrison the night before. He
had been out anvassing the county and had left
Mr.. Wallace to go directly home, being, as he ex-
pressed it, even then dead asleep"
It's true Wallace the town is in blaze of ex-
element he shot two other dead, but the doc
tor still lives
"Where is he y
"Pagef Taken to bis heels; the woods are
swarming with men. If he is caught they will show
no mercy"
No. Book meant"
"Oh They carried him home an hour ago"
AS yet but half convinced" writes Mr. allace
in telling tie story, Il went directly TO Books
house. The story true IN the main. Book was
dying from pistol shot fired by Harrison Page. /
tried in vain 10 learn how it happened. | knew
Book was sheriff but why was he at Pages house
What had caused Harrison TO lift a mUrderous
weapon against his old masterl The town full
of conflicting reports but from the lips of Harrison
himself afterward / learned the truth. Port Glib
son was alive with men, hurrying in and fling Oft
in squads to search the woods, where 1t said the
murderer lay concealed. The papers gave a one
sided account. DR.. Book had been found IN Har-
rsons deserted house. aud the house had been burnt
in retaliation. The bodies of the two killed in
the attack. by the unerring marksman, had been
brought back TO town. The latest report that day
| got from Harrington at the hotel. The White
Leaguers-ht heirs-at-law of the Ku Kluk-had
made the attack at night. Harrison had killed two
men, mOrtally wounded a third. and escaped. The
Leaguers had pushed on to his fathers plantation.
a mile or two beyond after burning his house, and
roasted poor Uncle jim in the blazing ruins of his
own house and one of his little grandchildren also,
and driven the women and children oR the premises.
Il had been ont in the country filling orders, and
il was rather later than / expected when
turned my horses head homewards. l had
n long bit of woods to cross,
but was well armed. and the White Leaguers
would not care to molest me, / was neither a
colored man nor voter So far felt safe. As
wound round the base of the hill the full moon
arose, making the bridle-path clear as day. On the
left Law pile OF charred ruins the remains Of what
had been Uncle Jims happy home. l refined my
horse and stood looking upon the wreck and desOa-
ton wishing l knew where the scattered family
were when a low, soft whistle hoated by me.
started for il was unlike the cry of any bird. vet
not q human being seemed stirring. Behind was
the hill I had skrted before me the woods. Ny
horse pricked up his and neghed softly. Again
the whistle. Was it friend foe signal for
the White Leaguers to surround me, or some be-
lated, prosecuted colored man, unable to discover
in me pity or hate Invountartiy my hand sought
my pistol and as did so, a figure stepped out of
the gloom Of the woods saying Mr. Wallace,
don't shoot l am Harrison Page
He stood before me. the outlaw for whose blood
FIVE hundred men had secured that wood for days )
the man whom l had liked and trusted and hoped
was far away from Mississippi by that time. /
Qrasped his hand and looked into his face. He was
haggard and worn, the lips were sernIy set out the