‘Slavery is now,’ he continued, ’indispensable to us.  Without it, cotton, rice, and sugar will cease to grow, and the South will starve.  What if it works abuses?  What if the black, at times, is overburdened, and his wife and daughters debauched?  Man is not perfect any where—­there are wrongs in every society.  It is for each one to give his account, in such matters, to his God.  But in this are we worse than they?  Are there not abuses in society at the North?  Are not their laborers overworked?  While sin here hides itself under cover of the night, does it not there stalk abroad at noonday?  If the wives and daughters of blacks are debauched here, are not the wives and daughters of whites debauched there? and will not a Yankee barter away the chastity of his own mother for a dirty dollar?  Who fill our brothels?  Yankee women!  Who load our penitentiaries, crowd our whipping-posts, debauch our slaves, and cheat and defraud us all?  Yankee men!  And I say unto you, fellow-citizens,’ and here the speaker’s form seemed to dilate with the wild enthusiasm which possessed him, ’’come out from among them; be ye separate, and touch not the unclean thing,’ and thus saith the Lord God of hosts, who will guide you, and lead you, if need be, to battle and to victory!’

A perfect storm of applause followed.  The assemblage rose, and one long wild shout rent the old woods, and made the great trees tremble.  It was some minutes before the uproar subsided; when it did, a voice near the speaker’s stand called out:  ‘Andy Jones!’ The call was at once echoed by another voice, and soon a general shout for ‘Andy!’ ‘Union Andy!’ ’Bully Andy!’ went up from the same crowd which a moment before had so wildly applauded the secession speaker.

Andy rose from where he was seated beside me, and quietly ascended the steps of the platform.  Removing his hat, and passing to his mouth a huge quid of tobacco, from a tin box in his pantaloons-pocket, he made several rapid strides up and down the speaker’s stand, and then turned squarely to the audience.

The reader has noticed a tiger pacing up and down in his cage, with his eyes riveted on the human faces before him.  He has observed how he will single out some individual, and finally stopping short in his rounds, turn on him with a look of such intense ferocity as makes a man’s blood stand still, and his very breath come thick and hard, as he momentarily expects the beast will tear away the bars of his cage and leap forth on the obnoxious person.  Now, Andy’s fine, open, manly face had nothing of the tiger in it, but for a moment, I could not divest myself of the impression, as he halted in his walk up and down the stage, and turned full and square on the previous speaker—­who had taken a seat among the audience near me—­that he was about to spring upon him.  Riveting his eye on the man’s face, he at last slowly said: