THE EXCITEMENT OF THE HOUR.

  ON the morning following Toadvine's visit to the jail, the citizens living in the neighborhood of Beechland, were shocked by discovering on the very edge of the town, the mutilated body of a dead negro, and it seemed more than probable that a murder had been committed. The neck of the deceased was not only broken, but the bones thereof had evidently been torn asunder; and with such force, as to elongate the persistent muscles. A piece of rope that had evidently been rudely severed with a sharp knife, was still around his neck, and upon further examination, a deep indentation could be traced for a considerable distance, along the road, showing how far the body had been dragged upon the ground.

  It happened to be that day of the week, when the planters of the vicinity, by general consent, meet in town, not only to transact business, but also for social intercourse, and very soon a large number of the most substantial citizens of the surrounding country, were standing in

  The "coroner" had been summoned; a jury was quickly obtained—an inquest held—and the prompt verdict was, that the deceased negro came to his death by violence at the hands of some person or persons unknown.

  This done, the body was taken to the court-house, and laid out upon the porch, in hopes that some one would identify it.

  About ten o'clock, the jailer had finished his morning work, of letting the negroes get their own breakfast, while he fed his dogs, with such other duties as occurred, when he thrust a cigar in his mouth, and his hands in his pockets, and leaving his charge in the care of a deputy, he started out to learn the news of the day, and prepared to take an active part in a political discussion, or a game of cards, the only two excitements he allowed himself openly to indulge in.

  And it so happened as he passed along, that he came across a group of citizens in deep and earnest conversation and he knew at once that something more than usual "was in the wind."

  "There goes Orcutt the jailer," said Gen. Bledsoe, the most popular and influential man in the community; and continued he, "Orcutt is well acquainted in town, and perhaps he might give us some clew to this strange matter," and with the universal approval of all present, Orcutt was called into the conference.

  This notice pleased the jailer, and as he came toward the group, he decided in his own mind that they were

  "Orcutt," said Gen. Bledsoe, after the salutations of meeting were over, "we called you over here, to ask what you think of this murder that was committed last night?"

  "Haven't heard a word of it," said Orcutt, his suspicions however prompting him to believe that he knew all the history.

  "You haven't heard of it!" exclaimed two or three voices at once; "why, what have you been doing this morning?"

  "Nothing but looking after the 'stone jug,'" said Orcutt, with a sort of injured look, "nothing else."

  "The fact is," continued Gen. Bledsoe, "a negro boy was killed last night just a few hundred yards from the jail"—

  "Up the old bayou road"—involuntarily suggested Orcutt.

  "The same," said the general, exchanging glances of intelligence with the gentlemen in the crowd.

  "Well, let me see the body," said the jailer, who instantly became an object of suspicious interest, and the party walked towards the court-house.

  The body of Jack, as we have stated, had been laid upon the court-house steps. An infirm old negro, who had, years agone, become useless as a servant, and earned a precarious living in the town, had, in the natural goodness of her heart, washed off the mud from the body, and disposing

  "And who is it, aunty?" said Gen. Bledsoe, addressing the old negress kindly, "do you know the face?"

  "Bress you, no, master;" and turning to the corpse, she muttered, "he's done gone to heav'n now, dat's one comfort," and then instinctively moved away from the immediate presence of the white people.

  Orcutt was exceedingly annoyed that, by an unguarded expression, he had made his suspicions a matter of interest, for he did not wish to have the responsibility of recognizing the body, and probable arrest of the murderer, thrown upon his shoulders. Holding his office at the mercy of political partisans, it instantly occurred to him, that the enmity of Toadvine and his friends, could secure his removal, and he was exceedingly embarrassed at the position in which he found himself.

  Now the usually most talkative man in the community was in the crowd, but from the time he heard of the murder, he had been dumb as a mouse. This gentleman was Maj. Trimmer, "the great criminal lawyer and active politician" of the surrounding country; he knew that he had a client somewhere in the parish, as soon as he saw Jack's body, and was then actually looking out for his "retaining fee."

  He discovered Orcutt's embarrassment, and tucking that worthy under the arm, he led him a step aside, and

  "I'd nothing to do with it," said Orcutt doggedly, "but you'll give me a letter, major, in case it is ever necessary, that what I do say is under compulsion."

  "Certainly I will," said the major, shaking Orcutt by the hand.

  Orcutt returned to the group of inquirers, and carelessly throwing back the old sheet from the face of the corpse, examined the swollen and ghastly lineaments for a moment, and said:—

  "As I expected, it's—" but before he could say more, Gen. Bledsoe suddenly seized him by the shoulder, and with great emphasis exclaimed:

  "You know the negro, and you believe he was murdered?" Orcutt was about to resist such rude treatment, but the eyes of too many resolute men were upon him, who evidently sympathized with the general's conduct.

  "I think I know the negro, and I believe that he was killed," said Orcutt, looking confused.

  "And why did you ask if the murder was committed in the bayou road, when you claimed to have heard nothing about it," asked a very matter of fact planter, thrusting his nose into Orcutt's face.

  "Don't speak as you value life," whispered Bledsoe, becoming every moment more excited, "don't speak until I tell you."

  Orcutt was then pushed aside, as it were, and he was instantly surrounded by the most influential persons present, among whom there was an astonishing display of

  The news spread that a clew to the murder had been obtained, and crowds began to collect about the court-house; men, and boys, and negroes, could be seen coming from every direction to the common focus, all excited and all curious. The keeper of the "Head-quarters" adjoining the seat of justice, was in ecstasies, and this was displayed in a professional way, for, rushing behind his bar, he commenced cleaning his glasses, feeling assured that very soon his "groceries" would be in even unusual demand.

  "And now, Mr. Orcutt," said Gen. Bledsoe, looking at his compeers, and letting go his hold on the jailer, "now, sir, we will hear your story."

  Without ceremony, Orcutt gave a very truthful account of things connected with Jack's leaving the jail; as he progressed with his story, many of his listeners became livid with rage, and deep and bitter were the subdued execrations that feel upon Toadvine's head.

  Orcutt soon discovered how popular feeling was going, and he began to artfully exaggerate things already dreadful; he felt that Toadvine's power had gone, and therefore, to conciliate the influence of the overseer was no longer a matter of importance.

  As soon as the full force of Toadvine's conduct was understood, there was a universal clamor for his arrest and prompt punishment. The feeling was more than usually strong, from the fact, that recently two or three slave murders had been committed, only a little less atrocious than the case under consideration, and in truth, so great was the excitement,

  Every now and then some one would, after being whispered by Gen. Bledsoe, leave, and presently return with a double-barrelled fowling-piece or musket. The sheriff also made his appearance, and was uncommonly active to find some justice of the peace, to get out a warrant, for he regretted that he could do nothing, "unless especially instructed by a proper officer."

  It was soon evident that one universal feeling had settled down upon the crowd. Some three or four who had been active in the deliberations, were already mounted, as if bent on a hasty journey, when one of the younger men of the party rose, in his saddle, and speaking in a loud voice, said:

  "Gentlemen, we have had to-day the painful evidence of the reckless destruction of our property. If irresponsible men are permitted to thus injure our interests, what will be the result? Utter ruin. It is proposed that the violator of our rights, in consideration of his seeming defiance of the laws, be not left to the mercy of its delays, but have justice dealt out to him with our own indignant hands."

  A loud and enthusiastic shout was given, and twenty men in an instant were in their saddles. Away these horsemen scattered through the streets, many riding hither and thither, and almost all indulging in the free use of liquor, either from canteens carried in their pockets, or such as could be purchased at the "groceries." In the course of a half hour more, the town had assumed its usually dull appearance, for that particular time of day.

  On that eventful morning, Toadvine had risen at his accustomed hour, and externally, as if nothing in his history of extraordinary character had occurred, he went into the field with the negroes. After he returned to his house for breakfast, he quietly walked over the "residence," and asked Mr. Mildmay for a prospective order for the amount of money due him up to date, remarking, "that he had created some debts, which he wished to settle;" he then strolled out upon the gallery, and taking up an old newspaper, seemed to absorbed in its contents.

  Mildmay, after looking over his memorandum book, wrote a draft on his merchant for the amount due Toadvine, and stepping out on the gallery, handed it to the overseer, with the question, "Did you bring home Jack, last night, as you intended?"

  "Why, the fact is," said Toadvine, folding up the paper and putting it in his pocket—"the fact is, that I spent too much time, yesterday evening, at the 'Head-quarters,' and besides losing some money, I drank too much—" and Toadvine apparently hesitated to finish his remark.

  "I am sorry, for your sake, that such is the fact!"

  Toadvine moved away, crossed the yard, and entered his own house, and sitting down at his deal table, and taking a deep potation of his ever favorite whiskey, and thrusting his hands in his pockets, he commenced soliloquizing, thus:

  "I wonder what did become of Jack? I must have been pretty tight last night. I was so infarnally mad about that mud-hole, that I 'most forget every thing else. How he did pull, when he tried to get away; if it hadn't been for breaking off the pommel of my saddle, to say nothing of that rope across my thigh, I'd a pulled him home, or killed my horse."

  And giving utterance to these expressions, Toadvine, for some ten minutes, seemed lost in a deep reverie, then rousing himself, he put away his decanter, and looked over the "promise to pay," so recently received from his employer, and after cyphering some time on the floor with a piece of charcoal, he observed:

  "Well, if Mr. Mildmay does send me off for this little frolic, he don't owe me any thing, thank fortune!" and with this consoling reflection, and entirely unconscious of the real extent of his offending, he mounted his horse, and again rode into the field.

  To avoid the appearance of any thing extraordinary in

  Here in conclave it was agreed, that it was useless to trust to the laws for the punishment of Toadvine; that the law was a mere farce, gotten up for no other purpose than to enable lawyers to rob the community, and escape the consequences. It was further decided, that it would save the parish expense, and a great deal of feeling besides, in the minds of those interested, by seeing him summarily hung to a limb of the nearest tree; and also teach him, and others similarly disposed to tamper with the rights of the planters, that it could not be done with impunity.