This expression was not the offspring of fear as to the outcome of a
possible conflict, for, Anglo-Saxon like, that was with him a foregone
conclusion in favor of his own race. But he shuddered at the awful
carnage that would of necessity ensue if two races, living house to
house, street to street, should be equally determined upon a question
at issue, equally disdainful of life, fighting with the rancor always
attendant upon a struggle between two races that mutually despise and
detest each other.

He knew that it was more humane, more in accordance with right, more
acceptable with God, to admit to the negro that Anglo-Saxon doctrine
of the equality of man was true, rather than to murder the negro for
accepting him at his word, though spoken to others.

Feeling thus, he pleaded with his people to grant to the negro his
rights, though he never hinted at a possible rebellion, for fear that
the mention of it might hasten the birth of the idea in the brain of
the negro.

That evening, after he had read the oration to his wife and told her
of his forebodings, he sat with his face buried in his hands, brooding
over the situation. Late in the night he retired to rest, and the next
morning, when he awoke, his wife was standing by his bed, calling him.
She saw that his sleep was restless and thought that he was having
troubled dreams. And so he was.

He dreamed that a large drove of fatted swine were munching acorns
in a very dense forest of oaks, both tall and large. The oaks were
sending the acorns down in showers, and the hogs were greedily