Joe said that he did. Indeed Skaggsy struck one as being aggressively
unprejudiced.

He went on: "You see, a lot o' fellows say to me, 'What do you want to
go down to that nigger club for?' That 's what they call it,--'nigger
club.' But I say to 'em, 'Gentlemen, at that nigger club, as you choose
to call it, I get more inspiration than I could get at any of the
greater clubs in New York.' I 've often been invited to join some of the
swell clubs here, but I never do it. By Jove! I 'd rather come down here
and fellowship right in with you fellows. I like coloured people,
anyway. It 's natural. You see, my father had a big plantation and owned
lots of slaves,--no offence, of course, but it was the custom of that
time,--and I 've played with little darkies ever since I could
remember."

It was the same old story that the white who associates with negroes
from volition usually tells to explain his taste.

The truth about the young reporter was that he was born and reared on a
Vermont farm, where his early life was passed in fighting for his very
subsistence. But this never troubled Skaggsy. He was a monumental liar,
and the saving quality about him was that he calmly believed his own
lies while he was telling them, so no one was hurt, for the deceiver
was as much a victim as the deceived. The boys who knew him best used to
say that when Skaggs got started on one of his debauches of lying, the
Recording Angel always put on an extra clerical force.

"Now look at Maudie," he went on; "would you believe it that she was of
a fine, rich family, and that the coloured girl she 's dancing with now
used to be her servant? She 's just like me about that. Absolutely no