know. This was about a couple of negroes back in the country a way.
You know, I am a sort of deputy sheriff, and I was called on to do a
little work with those same negroes. I suppose you know, ma'am, that
those negroes used to run this whole state a few years ago, though
they ain't studying so much about politics to-day."

"I know something of that," said Mrs. Ellison. "That was soon after
the war, they tell me. But they gave that up long ago. They don't
bother with politics now."

"No," resumed Blount. "They're not studying so much as they used to.
Not long ago I had a number of northern philanthropists down here,
who came down to look into the "conditions in this district." I said
I'd show them everything they wanted; so I sent out for some of my
field hands. I said to one of them, "Bill," said I, "these gentlemen
want to ask you some questions. I suppose your name is William Henry
Arnold, isn't it?" "Yassah," said Bill. "You was county supervisor
here some years ago, wasn't you, Bill?' 'Yassah,' said Bill. I said,
'I beg your pardon, Mr. William Henry Arnold, but will you please
step up here to my desk and write your name for these gentlemen?'
'Why, sho'! boss,' said he, 'you know I kain't write mah name.'
'That's all,' said I.

"'Now, gentlemen,' said I, 'exhibit number two is Mr. George
Washington Sims. 'George,' said I, 'you used to be our county
treasurer, didn't you?' He said he did. 'Who paid the taxes, then,
George?' said I. 'Why, boss, you white folks paid most of 'um.' 'All
right, Mr. George Washington Sims,' said I, 'you step up here and
write your name for these gentlemen.' He just laughed. 'That'll do,'
said I.