In the winter of 1867, in the black water swamp of Gainesville, a Parish existed under the watchful eye of the good Reverend. His flock consisted of the Seminole natives and freed slaves seeking refuge south from the horrors of the civil war and its murderous rampage. Together with his people the Reverend created a life filled with hope and love until one darkened night while holding service in the freshly white washed church an eerie glow of fire light came streaming through the church windows. The good Reverend tried to calm his frightened disciples as he walked out the doors to investigate this phenomenon. His frame became rigid and his jaw taught as the sight of a ten foot high burning cross desecrating the night sky. The thirteen Klu Klux Klan members sat on horse back and called out the good Reverend to give up his people for the reckoning of their bloodlust. But in the face of this unholy rabble the Reverend protested vehemently and admonished them for their evil threats. But this evil was far from appeased as the Klansmen bull whipped the Reverend in the yard of his own church while his screaming and crying parish was burned alive in the ruins of their house of God. As a hemp rope noose was pulled over his bloody face, the Reverend’s fire lit eyes turned toward the heavens and with his last breath he exulted “I will return!” then his writhing body was hoisted high above the hallowed ground of the churchyard.