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Dixon, Thomas, 1864-1946

"The Southerner A Romance of the Real Lincoln"

She called a hack and scarcely had the strength to
climb into the high, old-fashioned seat.
Never in all her life had blind anger so possessed her soul and body. In
a moment of tenderness she had offered to forgive and forget. It was all
over now. The brute was not worth a tear of regret. She would show him!
Two weeks later John Vaughan stared into the ebony face of a negro who
had attached himself to his fortune somewhere in the revelry of the
night before. Washington was swarming with these foolish black children
who had come in thousands. They had no money and it had not occurred to
them that they would need any. Their food and clothes had always been
provided and they took no thought for the morrow.
John had forgotten the fact that he had taken the negro in his hack for
two hours and finally adopted him as his own.
He sat up, pressed his hand over his aching head and stared into the
grinning face:
"And what are you doing here, you imp of the devil?"
Julius laughed and rolled his eyes:
"I'se yo' man. Don't you min' takin' me up in de hack wid you las'
night?"
"What's your name?"
"Julius Caesar, sah."
"Then it's all right! You're the man I'm looking for. You're the man
this country's looking for. You're a born fighter----"
"Na, sah, I'se er cook!"
"Sh! Say not so--we're going back to war!"
"All right, sah, I'se gwine wid you.


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