“I tell you,” said old Horace Talbot, who was noted for his kindliness towards people of colour, “I tell you, I pity that darky more than I blame him.  Now, here ’s my theory.”  They were in the bar of the Continental Hotel, and the old gentleman sipped his liquor as he talked.  “It ’s just like this:  The North thought they were doing a great thing when they come down here and freed all the slaves.  They thought they were doing a great thing, and I ’m not saying a word against them.  I give them the credit for having the courage of their convictions.  But I maintain that they were all wrong, now, in turning these people loose upon the country the way they did, without knowledge of what the first principle of liberty was.  The natural result is that these people are irresponsible.  They are unacquainted with the ways of our higher civilisation, and it ’ll take them a long time to learn.  You know Rome was n’t built in a day.  I know Berry, and I ’ve known him for a long while, and a politer, likelier darky than him you would have to go far to find.  And I have n’t the least doubt in the world that he took that money absolutely without a thought of wrong, sir, absolutely.  He saw it.  He took it, and to his mental process, that was the end of it.  To him there was no injury inflicted on any one, there was no crime committed.  His elemental reasoning was simply this:  This man has more money than I have; here is some of his surplus,—­I ’ll just take it.  Why, gentlemen, I maintain that that man took that money with the same innocence of purpose with which one of our servants a few years ago would have appropriated a stray ham.”

“I disagree with you entirely, Mr. Talbot,” broke in Mr. Beachfield Davis, who was a mighty hunter.—­“Make mine the same, Jerry, only add a little syrup.—­I disagree with you.  It ’s simply total depravity, that ’s all.  All niggers are alike, and there ’s no use trying to do anything with them.  Look at that man, Dodson, of mine.  I had one of the finest young hounds in the State.  You know that white pup of mine, Mr. Talbot, that I bought from Hiram Gaskins?  Mighty fine breed.  Well, I was spendin’ all my time and patience trainin’ that dog in the daytime.  At night I put him in that nigger’s care to feed and bed.  Well, do you know, I came home the other night and found that black rascal gone?  I went out to see if the dog was properly bedded, and by Jove, the dog was gone too.  Then I got suspicious.  When a nigger and a dog go out together at night, one draws certain conclusions.  I thought I had heard bayin’ way out towards the edge of the town.  So I stayed outside and watched.  In about an hour here came Dodson with a possum hung over his shoulder and my dog trottin’ at his heels.  He ‘d been possum huntin’ with my hound—­with the finest hound in the State, sir.  Now, I appeal to you all, gentlemen, if that ain’t total depravity, what is total depravity?”

“Not total depravity, Beachfield, I maintain, but the very irresponsibility of which I have spoken.  Why, gentlemen, I foresee the day when these people themselves shall come to us Southerners of their own accord and ask to be re-enslaved until such time as they shall be fit for freedom.”  Old Horace was nothing if not logical.