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The rum advocates resorted to all manner of devices to influence the colored people.  They had a circular printed with a portrait of Abraham Lincoln.  The picture represented him standing, with a slave in chains kneeling before him.  Under the picture, in quotation marks, were the words, as if spoken by Mr. Lincoln:  “Prohibition is slavery; I will cut the manacles from your hands.”  This was a mean trick.  To put such lying words into the mouth of a man whose name the colored people revere nest to that of the Saviour, is a piece of wickedness that only rum-sellers could be guilty of.  It accomplished their vile purpose, however, in leading a great many colored people to vote against prohibition.

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A colored preacher who made anti-prohibition speeches, referring to a statement that their meetings were not opened with prayer, said that he would make as good a prayer as anybody.  Thereupon he slowly prayed:  “Oh!  Lord, I pray thee to help Atlanta in her extremity.  Oh, do lift her up and restore her to the proud place she once occupied before these prohibition fanatics got her by the throat.  Oh, Lord Jesus, do thou make these deluded preachers see the error of their ways.  Do help the sweet inhabitants of this city. [Cries of ‘Amen!’] Do restore to them pure liquor, and not compel them to drink the vile stuff sold as ’nerve tonic,’ ‘rice beer’ and ‘bitters.’ [Applause and laughter.] Give us power to win the fight. [Cries of ‘Amen.’] Put to rout the miserable hypocrites who parade as thy servants under the guise of Prohibitionists.  Oh, do save us and let us win this fight, for Jesus’ sake, amen. [Cheers, and cries of ’Amen.’]” What can be expected of a church with such a man for its pastor, and what can be expected of a people if left to such leadership?

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Rev. Geo. C. Rowe, of Charleston, S.C., in company with brethren Snelson, Maxwell, Jordan and Herron, going to attend the Association at Macon, Ga., by reason of a delayed train were in danger of missing connection at Jessup, a junction.  The authorities telegraphed for the train to wait.  When the little party reached Jessup, they found the train in waiting, and boarding it entered a first-class coach.  We let Mr. Bowe tell the rest of the story: 

“A burly white train-hand came in, and said, in a threatening way:  ‘The forward car is your car.’  We gave him no answer, but kept our seats.  The conductor came through and looked at us, but said nothing.  At the door he asked, roughly, of a colored train hand, ‘Why did you let those men go into that car?’ They hardly knew how to act, as we were the only passengers who came on the S.F. & W. train, and they had been ordered to wait for passengers on that train; so, doubtless considering discretion the better part of valor, they left us severely alone, and we rode from Savannah to Macon, an