the proud Anglo Saxon spirit rose to the measure of the desperate emergency. Then all eyes turned to Hampton as a leader and did not turn in vain. He accepted the nomination for Governor, and with Butler, Gary, Simpson, and others rode all over the State arousing the people to a pitch of enthusiasm that swept everything before it. The negroes and scalawags outnumbered the Democrats by more than thirty thousand voters, and no one ever will know how the election did go by a fair count. Both sides claimed it, and the result was the anomalous spectacle of two Governors and two Legislatures assembled in Columbia, each claiming to be the legal government. It was then that Hampton for five months towered like a pillar of cloud between the enraged factions. Thousands of armed men filled the streets of Columbia, bent on annihilating the regiment of Federal troops and scattering the negro Legislature to the winds a step which would have brought ruin to the whole State. Day after day Hampton appeared before the angry hosts and told them not to strike a blow till he gave the word, and his power and prestige were such that no one dared to disobey him. In the meantime he had one hand, so to speak, on Chamberlain's throat and the other on the President's shoulder, and after five months of negotiation he prevailed on the latter to withdraw the Federal troops. When this was done, there was a wild stampede among the carpet-bag

gers, scalawags, and negroes, and the State was redeemed.

I would not if I could revive the passions and animosities of forty years ago; but I have this to say: The treatment that South Carolina received during what is known as the Reconstruction period, constitutes the darkest page in the history of this continent, and is the one deep, black, damning blot on the record of the Republican party, which can never be white-washed nor erased, and how any white man to this day with Southern blood in his veins and the heart and soul of a man within him, can affiliate with that party with such a record behind it, is an ethical or psychological problem which no philosopher can satisfactorily explain.

I am about to close and have not mentioned perhaps the grandest period of Hampton's life. Conditions changed, and many who shouted hosannas in 1876, cried "crucify him" in 1890. Fierce passions, and blind prejudices were aroused by men seeking self-aggrandizement, and Hampton was jeered and hooted, and driven into obscurity and poverty by the people of a State that he had saved from destruction. He retired in the spirit of Aristides to a cottage, his once palatial residence having been burned by Sherman's vandals, and never a word of complaint from that cottage reached the ears of the public. Soon, that cottage was lost by fire, and Hampton was homeless. When a movement was started to build him another by subscrip

tion he quietly but firmly answered that contributions for such an object could not be accepted. Then later, powerful friends interceded and secured a promise of the Columbia postoffice for him, from a Republican administration. When the offer was communicated to him he replied, "Hampton is not for sale."

And when the end came he died invoking a Divine blessing on the people of the whole State. Ah! young men, there is manhood for you. Ah! young women, there is an ideal entrusted to your keeping for future generations. Shame on South Carolina if she ever ceases to revere his name and to draw inspiration from his sacrifices and glorious deeds!

MAJ. JOHN J. BROWN.

Remarks at his Obsequies, Nov. 27th, 1886. It is, or ought to be, a consoling thought to us all to-day, that afflictions do not come by chance. There is an unseen hand directed by an unerring wisdom that controls the affairs of this world and shapes the destinies of the children of men. What a blessed, glorious truth! Where else in all this world is there a solace for earthly sorrows, or a shelter from the ills of this transitory life? Where in blind chance is there a place for comfort, consolation or hope? But in the light of this truth, the afflictions of this earth are but the trials that we are

to endure for a moment, but the ordeals in the curriculum through which we pass to a higher education, and these sad bereavements that leave our hearts all desolate, are but milestones on the way to that land where broken hearts shall be healed and made desolate no more. And yet I speak not to banish the sorrow that presses upon the bereaved ones here to-day. That sorrow is too deep to be reached by poor human words. It is too holy to be touched by frail, sinful human hands. I would only tinge it with a glorious hope and rest it upon the shield of fath, and then I would stand before it in silence and in awe, as a holy thing sent down from God.

My friends, on every human family under the sun these dark days are to come. Be not deceived when all goes well, when the sun seems to rise and set but for your happiness and prosperity, and when everything you touch blooms like the rose and spreads itself like the green-bay tree-be not deceived then, and begin to say in your hearts "all things remain as from the beginning," and "my Lord delayeth His coming." The dark days will come. The light that has glowed so long and so brightly in your households will go out in gloom, and you will depart from your loved ones and go on your journey, to "the undiscovered country from whose bourne no traveler ever returns." Well will it be for you, if you be found as ready to depart, as well

prepared and equipped for the journey, as he was whose departure we mourn to-day.

Of that man whose remains lie now before us, I can hardly trust myself to speak. He was my friend in every time of need, and my heart is so full of love and gratitude to him, and of admiration for his many noble traits of character that I am blind to his faultts, if he had any, and if I speak of him at all, I fear that I may speak in terms which some may think extravagant. And still I may not fear, for who in this large audience does not feel as I do, that he has lost a warm, personal friend? A friend to whom he loved to go in the hour of need and be almost sure of his help to whom he could go in the hour of trial and despondency, and be sure of sympathy and encouragement. When did the cry of distress ever fail to reach the ears or to move the heart of Maj. J. J. Brown? When did the wronged or oppressed ever appeal to him in vain? When were the poor and the unfortunate turned empty handed from his door? When did truth, justice or right ever fail to find in him an advocate and defender? I thank God for his life! I thank God for that noble form that moved in our midst through these years that are gone, for the genial, honest face which beamed with truth and goodness, though the form is now cold and stark. and the face is pale in death. Such a life is a blessing to any community; such a life reconciles