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'"Max, tcu are goimo to stat hebb?'"
THE CRISIS
BY
WINSTON CHURCHILL -^
AOTHO. O, "UICHAED CABVEL." " THK C.«,BITT.- .XC.
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY
HOWARD CHANDLER CHRISTY
7^edaionmust^ietm^,aini^ Grra, Britain
Uniied StaUs.
orthe
TORONTO :
THE COPP, CLARK COMPANY, LIMITED,
1901
/9c)/
258083
■ooorAuf to Afll e( Hm PM^hma na n._>^.
iUnirtir o( Acfiflottcn,
Co
J. B. G.
Ain>
L. M. G.
CONTENTS
BOOK I
oiAPm
I. Which deals with Origina
11. The Mole . . . ]
UL The Unattainable Simplicity
IV. Black Cattle . .
• • •
V. The First Spark passes .
VI. Silas Whipple
Vn. Callers .....
Vm. BeUegarde ....
IX. A Quiet Sunday in Locust Street
X. The Little House .
XL The Invitation
XII. "Miss Jinny"
Xm. The Party . .
MSB
1
13
22
29
42
48
56
63
74
83
90
94
106
L
IL
in.
IV.
V.
VI.
vn.
vin.
rx.
BOOK II
Raw Material .
Abraham Lincoln .
In which Stephen learns Something
The Question
The Crisis .
Glencoe .
An Excursion
The Colonel is warned
Signs of the Times
Richter's Scar
vii
116
123
133
141
148
161
177
186
192
205
vin
CONTENTS
oaArrra
XI.
XII.
XIII.
XIV.
XV.
XVI.
XVII.
XVIII.
XIX.
XX.
XXI.
XXII
XXIII
How a Prince came
Into which a Potentate comes
At Mr. firinsmade's Gate
The Breach becomes too Wide
Mutterings ....
The Guns of Sumter
Camp Jackson
The Stone that is rejected .
The Tenth of May.
In the Arsenal
The Stampede
The Straining of Another Friendship
Of Clarence ...
218
220
228
241
260
266
261
274
288
204
810
824
832
I.
II.
HI.
IV.
V.
VI.
VII.
VIII.
IX.
X.
XI.
xn.
xni.
xrv.
XV.
XVI.
BOOK III
Introducing a Capitalist
News from Clarence
The Scourge of War
The List of Sixty .
The Auction .
• • •
Eliphalet plays his Trumps .
With the Armies of the West
A Strange Meeting
Bellegarde Once More .
In Judge Whipple's Office .
Lead, Kindly Light
The Last Card
From the Letters of Major Stephen
The Same, Continued .
The Man of Sorrows
Annapolis • . . .
firice
888
352
367
377
385
400
414
427
438
449
466
471
477
487
499
516
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
"'Max, you are going to stay here?'" . . . '^ Frtmtinpitce
"' Please find Mr. Hood,' directed V.r. Colfax " .... 'Ts
"'He's a bachelor,' said Vir^i- a; .what use has he got for
it?'" .
6
" 'So you have come at last to try again, Mr. Brice?'" . . 114
« ' If you answer back, out you go, like that I ' " . . . .170
They told me you were not coming I '" 286
" The Captain was given an audience " 339
"Twice Stephen shook him so that his head beat upon the
t»^l«" • . . .
473
It
THE CRISIS
BOOK I
CHAPTER I
WHICH DEALS WITH ORIGINS
Faithfully to relate how Eliphalet Hopper came to
f, t«^?il ". '° ^^'^•' ' ««°^^- Mr. Hop?^r "^0^?
to tell the story now, v .en his daughter-in-irris not^hv.
and sometimes he tells it in her oreSnce, f or ^18 a sham*
less and determined old party Ao denies the divine ri^hi
Wh^rCt^r. '*'''° T'" '« ^*^«^i°«? tobacco "^^'
When Ehphalet came to town, his ron's wife Mr.
Samuel D. (or S. Dwyer, as she is beginTng to cail he"!
self), WM not born. Gentlemen of cfvalier and Puri^
descent had not yet begun to arrive at the Planters' Hou^
to by hunting shirts and broad rims, belts and bo W
and (fepart quietly for Kansas, there to indulge inTw
most pUurable of Anglo-Saxon pastimes, a free fighf
to'th?Zp7oXV'^^^^^^ '" "^"^ ^^ '"^^ '"^^^'^'''^
m„Th^^V° *«^"phalefc'8 arrival, -a picture which has
^he^tend!!'iI^?h^^°^ ^? it ^«*^°^^ *^« ^^^^^^^ ^^y
as ne stands m the prow of the great steamboat Louinam
thinlTa ;^/ r^T' '?"'"^"^' *"d looks witrsome!
f k1 V . .»»?«Je88 disquiet on the chocolate waters of
the Mississippi There have been other sieh^ s7nce
cCi^T^^; "'"a' "^^'.' *^r« disgust:? a kTa!
cmisette lad more. A certain deck on the Paducah.
black cattle. Eliphalet possessed a fortunate tempera-
# J^
i
2 THE CRISIS
ment. The deck was dark, and the smell of the wretches
confined there was worse than it should have been. And
the incessant weeping of some of the women was annoy-
ing, inasmuch as it drowned many of the profane com-
munications of the overseer who was showing Eliphal' t
the sights. Then a fine-Hnened planter from down river
had come in during the conversation, and paying no
attention to the overseer's salute cursed them all into
silence, and left.
Eliphalet had ambition, which is not a wholly undesir-
able quality. He began to wonder how it would feel to
own a few of these valuable fellow-creatures. He reached
out and touched lightly a young mulatto woman who sat
beside him with an infant in her arms. The peculiar
dumb expression on her face was lost on Eliphalet. The
overseer had laughed coarsely.
" What, skeered on 'em ? " said he. And seizing the
girl by the cheek, gave it a cruel twinge that brought a
cry out of her.
Eliphalet had reflected upon this incident after he had
bid the overseer good-by at Cairo, and had seen that piti-
ful coffle piled aboard a steamer for New Orleans. And
the result of his reflections was, that some day he would
like to own s'aves.
A dome of smoke like a mushroom hung over the city,
visible from far down the river, motionless in the summer
air. A long line of steamboats — white, patient animals
— was tethered alon? the levee, and the Louuiana pres-
ently swung in her bow toward a gap in this line, where
a mass of people was awaiting her arrival. Some Invisible
force lifted Eliphalet's eyes to the upper deck, where
they rested, as if by appointment, on the trim figure of
the young man in command of the Loumana. He was
very young for the captain of a large New Orleans packet.
When his lips moved, something happened. Once he
raised his voice, and a negro stevedore rushed frantically
aft, as if he had received the end of a lightning-bolt.
Admiration burst from the passengers, and one man cried
out Captain Brent's age — it was thirty-two.
wa^^^ms9fSt^ssmmssfr-'^^m8WFW''mi
WHICH DEALS WITH ORIGINS $
Eliphalet snapped his teeth toirethftr H« «,«= *
words to some passeuMts of fashion tL\j parting
were taking thSr lugfa^ t^ S^rr'ri Je^s ^fXnn?
JreeS"gffi^J„V^.re?r„ f^: X^^^^^^^
^nvermen; dodging the mni:f^; Se LTdraTror
SScr^whTiteton^rS^/ *'if '" peopl/ofZpo".^
S^crtdTo^th ^rSTL'^t^ %VZ ^"1
lump/from n.ufh LvelTd nl'/as^dirtyCtKreT
f£-,rg^--»-^7;l^^S
^«=iSnV?Sn-V-oSSS
him were busv elprlrs TirJfK +1. • v^u ever}- sme of
evidence and FlfnWf i^®''' suspenders much in
made the rear guard ^ °* "^ ^'^^^^'^ ^^ ''^grged horses
Eliphalet mopped his brow. The mules seemed to have
Hm^
4 THE CRISIS
aroused in him some sense of his atomity, where the sight
of the pillar of smoke and of the black cattle had failed.
The feeling of a stranger in a strange land was upon him
at last. A strange land, indeed I Could it be one with his
native New England ? Did Congress assemble from the
antipodes ? Wasn't the great, ugly river and dirty city at
the end of the earth, to be written about in Boston journals ?
Turning in the doorway, he saw to his astonishment a
great store, with high ceilings supported by columns. The
oor was stacked high with bales of dry goods. Beside
him was a sign in gold lettering, " Carvel and Company,
Wholesale Dry Goods." And lastly, looking down upon
him with a quizzical expression, was a gentleman. There
was no mistaking the gentleman. He was cool, which
Eliphalet was not. And the fact is the more remarkable
because the gentleman was attired according to the fash-
ion of the day for men of his age, in a black coat with a
deal of ruffled shirt showing, and a heavy black stock
wound around his collar. He had a white mustache,
and a goatee, and white hair under his black felt hat.
His face was long, his nose straight, and the sweetness of
his smile had a strange effect upon Eliphalet, who stood
on one foot.
" Well, sonny, scared of mules, are you ? " The speech
is a stately drawl very different from the nasal twang of
Eliphalet's bringing up. " Reckon you don't come from
anywhere round here ? "
"No, sir," said Eliphalet. "From Willesden, Massa-
chusetts."
" Come in on the Louisiana f "
" Yes, sir." But why this politeness ?
The elderly gentleman lighted a cigar. The noise of the
rushing mules had now become a distant roar, like a whirl-
wind which has swept by. But Eliphalet did not stir.
" Friends in town ? " inquired the gentleman at length.
" No, sir," sighed Mr. Hopper. *
At this point of the conversation a crisp step sounded
from behind, and the wonderful smile came again on the
surface.
WHICH DEALS WITH ORIGINS $
i„m^°"l'°'f ?°*°°«^'" ^^ a voice which made Eliphalet
ml^!!^' ?tP**'5 ^^^*'" °"«<^ *h« Colonel, without cere-
mony, "and how do you find yourself to-day suh v A ^n^
^tXi^'^T/ )^" ^^^ °«^ l^k for ^ou 80 80on^»
"Tolluble, Colonel, toUuble," said the voub^ man
graspmg the Colonel's hand. « Well, Colonel^I ^w
winted/' "^ ''** ' ^'' *^^ «--*y bies o? gtdi JTou
" Ephum I » cried the Colonel, diving toward a counter
where glasses were set out, -a custom few t^Siphalet ~
"Ephum, some of that very particular clneTritte^
den - .nt me over from Kentucky last v^eek."
-,. A ^^\^y^ with hair as white as the Colonel's
appeared from behind the partition. ^'
I lowed ^ou'd want it, Marse Comyn, when I seed de
Cap n ijommy' said he, with the privilege of an old ser
vant Indeed the bottle wae beneath his^arm.
ine Colonel smiled.
thrc"?E' ^''"''' ""'"' ^*P'°'" "^^ ^P^^°»' »« he drew
Sa^'^EpSum r^^^'" ^^^^^ '^^ ^'^P*^^"- " ^^^ ^phum I
"Yes, «aA."
"How's my little sweetheart, Ephum ? "
"Bress your soul, sah," said Ephum, his face fallincr
perceptibly, "Bress your soul, sah, fiiss Jinny'rdone gon!
to Halcyondde, in Kaintuck, to see her grandma ^cSe
Ephum ain't de same nigger when she's aw!y . "
mel? Vtr Lt?^s"'^ ^"^^ ^^^"^^ - '"-^ ^-PPoint.
I brnlltli*!" «*^d^he, stronglv, "if that ain't too bad I
LJ ^ n,^"" * .5""°^^ ^°" ^'«°» New Orleans, which
PllTnd ifli t^'°' '^^°^' ^^"^^^«» ^«^-«^- «"*
oK " T^*,* ^ •^'"' ^'Sre," said the Colonel, heartily. « And
she shall write you the prettiestnoto of thaiiks you eVer got "
e
THE CRISIS
"Bless her pretty face," cried the Captain. "Her
health. Colonel! Here's a long life to Miss Virginia
Carvel, and may she rule forever I How old did you say
this was ? " he asked, looking into the glass.
" Over half a century," said Colonel Carvel.
" If it came from the ruins of Pompeii," cried Captain
Brent, " it might be worthy of her ! "
" What an idiot you are about that child, Lige," said
the Colonel, who was not hiding his pleasure. The
Colonel could hide nothing. « You ruin her I "
The bluflf young Captain put down his glass to laugh.
" Rum her ! " he exclaimed. " Her pa don't ruin her I
eh, Ephum ? Her pa don't ruin her I "
« Lawsy, Marse Lige, I reckon he's wuss'n any."
" Ephum," said the Colonel, pulling his goatee thought-
fully, "you're a damned impertinent nigger. I vow I'll
sell you South one of these days. Have you taken that
letter to Mr. Renault ? " He winked at his friend as the
old darkey faded into the darkness of the store, and con-
tinued : " Did I ever tell you about Wilson Peale's por-
trait of my grandmother, Dorothy Carvel, that I saw this
summer at my brother Daniel's, in Pennsylvania? Jinny's
foing to look something like her, sir. Um I She was a
ne woman. Black hair, though. Jinny's is brown, like
her Ma's." The Colonel handed a cigar to Captain Brent,
and ht one himself. " Daniel has a book my grandfather
wrote, mostly about her. Lord, I remember her I She
was the queen-bee of the family while she lived. I wish
some of us had her spirit."
" Colonel," remarked Captain Lige, « what's this I heard
on the levee just now about your shootin' at a man named
Babcock on the steps here ? "
The Colonel became very grave. His face seemed to
grow longer as he pulled his goatee.
" He was standing'rig^t where you are, sir," he replied
(Captain Lige moved), "and he proposed that 1' should
buy his influence."
" What did you do ? "
Colonel Carvel laughed quietly at the recollection.
'^S^^VW^
WHICH DEALS WITH ORIGINS
"Shucks," said he, "I just pushed him into the street,
gave him a little start, and put a bullet past his ear, just
to let the trash know the sound of it. Then RusseU went
down and bailed me out."
The Captain shook with laughter. But Mr. Eliphalet
Hopper's eyes were glued to the mild-mannered man who
told the story, and his hair rose under his hat.
"By the way, Lige, how's that boy, Tato? Some-
how after I let you have him on the Louisiana, I thought
Id made a mistake to let him run the river. Easter's
afraid he'll lose the little religion she taught him."
It was the Captain's turn to be grave.
*' I tell you what, Colonel," said he ; " we have to have
hands, of course. But somehow I wish this business of
slavery had never been started ! "
"Sir," said the Colonel, with some force, "God made
the sons of Ham the servants of Japheth's sons forever
and forever."
"Well, well, we won't quarrel about that, sir," said
Brent, quickly. "If they aU treated slaves as you do,
there wouldn't be any cry from Boston-way. And as for
me, I need hands. I shall see you again. Colonel."
"Take supper with me to-night, Lige," said Mr.
Carvel. « I reckon you'll find it rather lonesome without
Jinny."
" Awful lonesome," said the Captain. " But you'll show
me her letters, won't you ? "
He started out, and ran against Eliphalet.
" Hello ! " he cried. " Who's this ? "
" A young Yankee you landed here this morning, Lige,"
said the Colonel. " What do you think of him ? "
" Humph ! " exclaimed the Captain.
" He has no friends in town, and he is looking for em-
ployment. Isn't that so, sonny?" asked the Colonel,
"Yes."
"Come, Lige, would you take him?" said Mr. Carvel.
The young Captain looked into Eliphalet's face. The
dart that shot from his eyes was of an aggressive hoo-
• THE CRISIS
esty; and Mr. Hopper's, after an attempt at defiance,
were dropped.
"No," said the Captain.
"Why not, Lige?"
" Well, for one thing, he's been listening," said Captain
Lige, as he departed.
Colonel Carvel began to hum softly to himself :
** * One said it was an owl, and the other he said nay,
One said it was a church with the steeple torn awav.
Look a' there now I ' '
»' I reckon you're a rank abolitionist,*' said he to Eliphalet,
abruptly. '^
" I don't see any particular harm in keepin' slaves," Mr.
Hopper replied, shifting to the other foot.
Whereupon the Colonel stretched his legs apart, seized
his goatee, pulled his head down, and gazed at him for
some time from under his eyebrows, so searchingly that
the blood flew to Mr. Hopper's fleshy face. He mopped
It with a dark-red handkerchief, stared at everything in
the place save the gentleman in front of him, and won-
dered whether he had ever in his life been so uncomfort-
able. Then he smiled sheepishly, hated himself, and beiran
to hate the Colonel.
" Ever hear of the Liberator f "
" No, sir," said Mr. Hopper.
"Where do you come from?" This was downright
directness, from which there was no escape.
"Willesden, Massachusetts."
" Umph 1 And never heard of Mr. Garrison ? "
" I've had to work all my life."
" What can you do, sonny ? "
"I callate to sweep out a store. I have kept books,"
Mr. Hopper vouchsafed.
"Would you like work here ?" asked the Colonel, kindly.
The green eyes looked up swiftly, and down ajrain.
" What'U you give me ? "
The good man was surprised. " Well," said he, " seven
dollars a week."
WHICH DEALS WITH ORIGINS
Many a time in after life had the Colonel reason to think
over thia scene. He was a man the singleness of whose
motives could not be questioned. The one and sufficient
reason for giving work to a homeless boy, from the hated
state of the Liberator, was charity. The Colonel had his
moods, like many another worthy man.
The small specks on the horizon sometimes grow into
the hugest of thunder clouds. And an act of charity, out
of the wisdom of God, may produce on this earth either
good or evil.
Eliphalet closed with the bargain. Ephum was called
and told to lead the recruit to the pre^nce of Mr. Hood,
the manager. And he spent the remainder of a hot day
checking invoices in the shipping entrance on Second
Street.
It is not our place here to chronicle Eliphalet's faults.
Whatever he may have been, he was not lazy. But he was
an anomaly to the rest of the young men in the store, for
those were days when political sentiments decided fervent
loves or hatreds. In two days was Eliphalet's reputation
for wisdom made. During that period he opened his
mouth to speak but twice. The first was an answer to a
pointless question of Mr. Barbo's {cetat 26), to the eflFect
that he, Eliphalet Hopper, was a Pierce Democrat, who
looked with complacency on the extension of slavery.
This was wholly satisfactory, and saved the owner of these
sentiments a broken head. The other time Eliphalet
spoke was to ask Mr. Barbo to direct him to a boarding-
house. °
"I reckon," Mr. Barbo reflected, "that you'll want one
of them Congregational boarding-houses. We've got a
heap of Yankees in the town, and they all flock together
and pray together. I reckon you'd ruther go to Miss
Crane's nor anywhere."
Forthwith to Miss Crane's Eliphalet went. An'' that
lady, being a Greek herself, knew a Greek when she saw
one. The kind-hearted Barbo lingered in the gathering
darkness to witness the game which ensued, a game dear to
all New Englanders, comical to Barbo. The two contest-
10
THE CRISIS
ants ealevlaUd. Barbo reckoned^ and put his money on
his new-found fellow-clerk. Eliphalet, indeed, never,
showed to better advantage. The shyness he had med
with the Colonel, and the taciturnity practised on his
fellow-clerks, he slipped off like coat and waistcoat for
the battle. The scene was in the front yard of the third
house in Dorcas Row. Everybody knows where Dorcas
Row was. Miss Crane, tall, with all the severity of side
curls and bombazine, stood like a stone lioness at the
gate. In the background, by the steps, the boarder^ sat,
an interested group. Eliphalet girded up his loins, and
sharpened his nasal twang to cope with hers. The pre-
liminary sparring was an exchange of compliments, and
deceived neither party. It seemed rather to heighten
mutual respect.
" You be from Willesden, eh ? " said Crane. " I calcu-
•late you know the Salters."
If the truth were known, this evidence of an apparent
omniscience rather staggered Eliphalet. But training
stood by him, and he showed no dismay. Yes, he knew
the Salters, and had drawed many a load out of Hiram
Salters' wood-lot to help pay for his schooling.
** Let me see," said Miss Crane, innocently ; " who was
it one of them Salters girls married, and lived across
the way from the meetin'-house ? "
" Spauldin'," was the prompt reply.
" Wal, I want t' know I " cried the spinster ; " not Ezra
Spauldin'?"
Eliphalet nodded. That nod was one of infinite shrewd-
ness which commended itself to Miss Crane. These cour-
tesies, far from making awkward the material discussion
which followed, did not affect it in the least.
" So you want me to board you ? " said she, as if in con-
sternation.
Eliphalet calculated, if they could come to terms. And
Mr. Barbo keyed himself to enjoyment.
" Single gentlemen," said she, " pay as high as twelve
dollars. And she added that they had no cause to com-
plain of her table.
M'^mi:^-'}^m
WHICH DEALS WITH ORIGINS
11
Eliphalet said he guessed he*d have to go somewhere
else. Upon this the lady vouchsafed the explanation that
those gentlemen had high positions and rented her large
rooms. Since Mr. Hopper was from Willesden and knew
the Salters, she would be willing to take him for less.
Eliphalet said bluntly he would give three and a half.
Barbo gasped. This particular kind of courage was
wholly beyond him.
Half an hour later Eliphalet carried his carpet-bag up
three flights and put it down in a tiny bedroom under
the eaves, still pulsing with heat waves. Here he was to
live, and eat at Miss Crane's table for the consideration
of four dollars a week.
Such is the story of the humble beginning of one sub-
stantial prop of the American Nation. And what a hack-
neyed story it is I How many other young men from the
East have travelled across the mountains and floated
down the rivers to enter those strange cities of the West,
Che growth of which was like Jonah's gourd.
Two centuries before, when Charles Stuart walked out
of a window in Whitehall Palace to die ; when the great
English race was in the throes of a Civil War ; when the
Stem and the Gay slew each other at Naseby and Marston
Moor, two currents flowed across the Atlantic to the New
World. Then the Stern men found the stem climate, and
the Gay found the smiling climate.
After many years the streams began to move again, —
westward, ever westward. Over the ever blue mountains
from the wonderland of Virginia into the greater wonder-
land of Kentucky. And through the marvels of the Inland
Seas, and by white conestogas threading flat forests and
floating over wide prairies, until the two tides met in a
maelstrom as fierce as any in the great tawny torrent of
the strange Father of Waters. A city founded by Pierre
Laclede, a certain adventurous subject of Louis who dealt in
furs, and who knew not Marly or Versailles, was to be the
place of the mingling of the tides. After cycles of sepa-
ration, Puritan and Cavalier united on this clay-bank in
*■'■'■}
la
THE CRISIS
nL^i!""?* PttTohaae, and swept westward together.
Like the struggle of two great rivers when they meet,
the waters for a while were dangerous.
mS rS^ST^^J*^"'**^^' \"?**°« '*»« Puritans, at
Mws Crane s. 1 he dishes were to his taste. Brown bread
and beans and pies were plentiful, for it was a land of
f^^!J*^- x^^^J'^".^' ^^ P""*«°» ^«™ there, and th^ at-
•f?^^^^^5-.^^'''*^'^°"?''®«*tional Church. And may
t be added in justice to jlr. Hopper, that he became "ci
the least devout of the boarders.
CHAPTER II
THE MOLE
For some Vbara, while Stephen A. Douglas and Frank-
lin Pierce and other gentlemen of prominence were play-
ing at bowls on the United States of America; while
Kansas was furnishing excitement free of charge to any
citizen who loved sport, Mr. Eliphalet Hopper was at
work like the industrious mole, undergrouncL It is safe
to affirm that Colonel Carvel forgot his new hand as soon
as he had turned him over to Mr. Hood, the manager.
As for Mr. Hopper, he was content. We can ill afford to
dissect motives. Genius is willing to lay the foundations
of her structure unobserved.
At first it was Mr. Barbo alone who perceived Elipha-
let's greatness, — Mr. Barbo, whose opinions were so easily
had that they counted for nothing. The other clerks, to
say the least, found the newcomer uncompanionable.
He had no time for skylarking, the heat of the day
meant nothing to him, and he was never sleepy. He
learned the stock as if by intuition, and such was his
strict attention to business that Mr. Hood was heard to
say, privatelv, he did not like the looks of it. A young
man should have other interests. And then, although he
would not hold it against him, he had heard that Mr.
Hopper was a teacher in Mr. Davitt's Sunday School.
Because he did not discuss his ambitions at dinner with
the other clerks in the side entry, it must not be thought
that Eliphalet was without other interests. He was like-
wise too shrewd to be dragged into political discussions
at the boarding-house table. He listened imperturbably
to the outbursts against the Border Ruffian, and smiled
when Mr. Abner Reed, in an angry passion, asked him
U
'•■T5i. _-r. "-•- V j£ rjiEt
u
THE CRISIS
to deolare whether or not he was a friend of the Divine
Institution. After a while they forgot about him (all
save Mitw Crane), which was what Mr. Hopper of all
things desired.
One other friend besides Miss Crane did Eliphalet take
unto himself, wherein he showed much discrimination.
This friend was none other than Mr. Davitt, min* ter
for nian^ years of the Congregational Church. 'or
Mr. Davitt was a good man, zealous in his work, unpre-
tentious, and kindlv. More than once Eliphalet went to
his home to tea, and was pressed to talk about himself and
his home life. The minister and his wife were invariably
astonished, after their guest was gone, at the meagre
result of their inquiries.
If Love had ever entered such a discreet soul as that
into which we are prying, he used a back entrance. Even
Mr. Barbo's incuines failed in the discovery of any young
person with viuom Eliphalet "kept company." What-
ever the notions abroad concerning him, he was admittedly
a model. There are many kinds of models. With some
young ladies at the Sunday School, indeed, he had a dis-
tant bowing acquaintance. They spoke of him jk. he
young man who knew the Bible as thoroughly as Mr.
Davitt himself. The only time that Mr. Hopper was
discovered showing embarrassment was when Mr. Davitt
held his hand before them longer than necessary on the
church steps. Mr. Hopper was not sentimental.
However fascinating the subject, I do not propose to
make a whole book about Eliphalet. Yet sidelights on
the life of every great man are interesting. And there
are a few incidents in his early career which have not
gotten into the subscription biographical Encycloptedias.
In several of these volumes, to be sure, we may see steel
engravings of him, true likenesses all. His was the type
of face which is the glory of the steel engraving, — square
and solid, as a corner-stone should be. The very clothes
he wore were made for the steel engraving, stiff and wiry
m texture, with sharp angles at the shoulders, and som-
bre in hue, as befit such grave creations.
THE MOLE
1«
Let us go back to a certain fine morning in the Septem-
ber of the year 1867, wheu Mr. Hopper had arrived, all
unnoticed, at the age of two and thirty. Industry had
told. He was now the manager's assistant; and, be it
said in passing, knew more about the stock than Mr. Hood
himself. On this particular morning, about nine o'clock,
he was stacking bolts of woollen goods near thut delec-
table counter where the Colonel was wont to regale his
nrincipal customers, when a vision appeared in the door.
Visions were rare at Carvel & Company's. This one was
followed by an old negress with leathery wrinkles, whose
smile was joy incarnate. They entered the store, paused
at the entrance to the Colonel's private office, and sur-
veyed it with dismay.
" 'Clar t' goodness, Miss Jinny, yo' pa ain't heah 1 An'
whah's Ephum, dat black good-:o'-nuthin' I "
Miracle number one, — Mr. Hopper stopped work and
stared. The vision was searching the store with her eyes,
and pouting.
" How mean of Pa I " she exclaimed, " when I took all
this trouble to surprise him, not to be here ! Where are
they all? Where's Ephum? Where's Mr. Hood ? "
The eyes lighted on Eliphalet. His blood was sluggish,
but it could be made to beat faster. The ladies he had
met at Miss Crane's were not of this description. As he
came forward, embarrassment made him shamble, and for
the first time in his life he was angrily conscious of a poor
figure. Her first question dashed out the spark of his zeal.
"Oh," said she, "are you employed here?"
Thoughtless Virginia I You little know the man you
have insulted by your haucrhty drawl.
"Yes."
"Then find Mr. Carvel, won't you, please? And tell
him that his daughter has come from Kentucky, and is
waiting for him."
** I callate Mr. Carvel won't be here this morning," said
Eliphalet. He went back to the pile of dry goods, ano
began to work. But he was unable to meet the displeas-
ure in her face.
16
THE CRISIS
I
i ;
** What is your name?" Miss Carvel demanded.
" Hopper.*'^
"Then, Mr. Hopper, please find Ephum, or Mr. F-»od."
Two more bolts were taken off the truck. Out o. -he
corner of his eye he watched her, and she seemed very
tall, like her father. She was taller than he, in fact.
" I ain't a servant. Miss Carvel," he said, with a mean-
ing glance at the negress.
" Laws, Miss Jinny," cried she, "I may 's 'ell find Ephum.
I knows he's loafin' somewhar hereabouts. An' I ain't
seed him dese five month." And she started for the back
of this store.
" Mammy I "
The old woman stopped short. Eliphalet, electrified,
looked up and instantly down again.
" You say you are employed by Mr. Carvel, and refuse
to do what I ask ? "
"I ain't a servant," Mr. Hopper repeated doggedly.
He felt that he was in the right, — and perhaps he was.
It was at this critical juncture in the proceedings that
a young man stepped lightly into the store behind Miss
Jinny. Mr. Hopper's eye was on him, and had taken in
the details of his costume before realizing the import of his
presence. He was perhaps twenty, and wore a coat that
sprung in at the waist, and trousers of a light bufif-color
that gathered at the ankle and were very copious above.
His features were of the straight type which has been
called from time immemorial patrician. He had dark
hair which escaped in waves from under his hat, and
black eyes that snapped when they perceived Miss Vir-
ginia Carvel. At sight of her, indeed, the gold-headed
cane stopped in its gyrations in midair.
" Why, Jinny I " he cried — " Jinny ! "
ivlr. Hopper would have sold his soul to have been in
the young man's polished boots, to have worn his clothes,
and to have been able to cry out to the young lady, " Why,
Jinny I "
To Mr. Hopper's surprise, the young lady did t ^t turn
around. She stood perfectly still. But a red flush str^le
THE MOLE
17
upon her cheek, and laughter was dancing in her eyes.
Yet she did not move. The young man took a step for-
ward, and then stood staring at her with such a comical
expression of injury '<•■, his Face as was too much for Miss
Jinny's serenity. She iaaghH-^ . That laugh also struck
minor chords upo i Mt. Hopp< ) 's heart-strings.
But the young ; •'iutlemau ^ ery properly grew angry.
" You've no right uo ireft me the way you do, Vir-
ginia," he cried. " Why didn't you let me know that you
were coming home?" His tone was one of authority.
" You didn't come from Kentucky alone ! "
" I had plenty of attendance, I assure you," said Miss
Carvel. " A governor, and a senator, and two charming
young gentlemen from New Orleans as far as Cairo,
where I found Captain Lige's boat. And Mr. Brinsmade
brought me here to the store. I wanted to surprise Pa,"
she continued rapidly, to head off the young gentleman's
expostulations. " How mean of him not to be here ! "
" Allow me to escort you home," said he, with ceremony.
"Allow me to decline the honah, Mr. Colfax," she
cried, imitating him. "I intend to wait here until Pa
comes in."
Then Eliphalet knew that the young gentleman was
Miss Virginia's first cousin. And it seemed to him that
he had heard a rumor, amongst the clerks in the store,
that she was to marry him one day.
"Where is Uncle Comyn?" demanded Mr. Colfax,
swinging his cane with impatience.
Virgina looked hard at Mr. Hopper.
" I don't know," she said.
" Ephum ! " shouted Mr. Colfax. " Ephum I Easter,
where the deuce is that good-for-nothing husband of
yours ? "
" I dunno, Marse Clarence. 'Spec he whah he
oughtn't ter be."
Mr. Colfax spied the stooping figure of Eliphalet.
" Do you work here ? " he demanded.
" I callate."
" What ? "
18
THE CRISIS
'* I callate to," responded Mr. Hopper again, without
rising.
" Please find Mr. Hood," directed Mr. Colfax, with a
wave of his cane, " and say that Miss Carvel is here — "
Whereupon Miss Carvel seated herself uj ori the edge
of a bale and giggled, which did not have a soothing
effect upon either of the young men. How abominably
you were wont to behave in those days, Virginia.
"Just say that Mr. Colfax sent you," Clarence con-
tinued, with a note of irritation. "There's a good
fellow."
Virginia laughed outright. Her cousin did not deign
to look at her. His temper was slipping its leash.
" I wonder whether you hear me," he remarked.
No answer.
" Colonel Carvel hires you, doesn't he ? He pays you
wages, and the first time his daughter comes in here
you refuse to do her a favor. By thunder, I'll see that
you are dismissed."
Still Eliphalet gave him no manner of attention, but
began marking the tags at the bottom of the pile.
It was at this unpropitious nioment that Colonel Carvel
walked into the store, and his daughter flew into his arms.
" Well, well," he said, kissing her, " thought you'd
surprise me, eh. Jinny ? "
" Oh, Pa," she cried, looking reproachfully up at his
face. " You knew — how mean of you I "
" I've been down on the Louisiana^ where some incon-
siderate man told me, or I should not have seen you to-
day. I was oflF to Alton. But what are these goings-on ? "
said the Colonel, staring at young Mr. Colfax, rigid as
one of his own gamecocks. He was standing defiantly
over the stooping figure of the assistant manager.
Oh," said Virginia, indifferently, " it's only Clarence.
He's so tiresome. He's always wanting to fight with
somebody."
" What's the matter, Clarence ? " asked the Colonel,
with the mild concern which deceived so many of the
undiscerning.
n.'l.'.'li
ililH h lllllil IlliiiilWlllill III III Wl I III! II II mi III 1 1 Will ' ■■
'41
— fai ijri Ljjs^sr I'teJitv. h
^
PLEA8E HND AIb. IIOOO,' 1„HECTE1, Mb. CoLFAX '
M
^rJ: i
\l :
i
I
ar-jy-j!^ ti"5j v«ast''«..arjm
THE MOLE
19
t^r ^Ko^^ i!"'' ^h^ ^^'"' ^»vo' fo' your daujTh-
*w J*"® n^^ ^''°' *°*^ ^ *«ld him, to notify Mr Hood
that Mi88 Carvel was here, and he refused." ^
Colonel Carvel pulled his goatee, and smiled.
" Clarence," saiS he, "I reckon I can run this establish
S?f*nr^'"' ^^y.^'^P ^'^"^ y^^ ^^^ Jinnr I've been
at It now for a good many years." * ve oeen
If Mr. Barbo had not been constitutionally unluckv hn
might have perceived Mr. Hopper, before da^rk that e^;en!
SL'J' cp^^versation with Mr. Hood about a certJL cus-
wT ""^A ^'""^^ "P *^^"' *"d presently leave th^store
by the side entrance. He walked as rapidly as his Ws
would carry him, for they were a trifle short 7or his bodT
and in due time, as the lamps were flickering, he arrived
near Colonel Carvei;8 large double residence, on Tenth and
Locust streets. Then he walked slowly abnT Tenth h^
eves lifted to the tell, curteined window! nIw and anon
tW scanned passers-by for a chance acouaintance
Mr. Hopper walked around the blo^ arrivincr or,o«
opposite the Carvel house, and beside JSrRSt'^ Xch
tT T'^\^''''^ }\ Eliphalet had inherited the princt
pie of mathematical chances. It is a fact that thTdL-
creet sometimes teke chances. Towards the back of M^
f tell In'^'v'^^' ^ ^^^" ^''^ ™ «"°k to the depth oi
a tall man, which was apparently used for the purpose of
getting coal and wood into the cellar. Mr. HoSsweot
the neighborhood with a glance. The coastTw cS
and he dropped into the area. '
Although the evening was chUl, at first Mr. Honoer
perspired very freely, lie crouched in the area wWle S^e
steps of pedestrians beat above his head, and took no
emofed'h s hT^^H ""' '"'^ '"^^^^^^ ^« grew cooler!
CoWl P hat, and peeped over the stone coping
•Ju f. ^9"""®^ f h°^»® - *«'• house — was now ablaze
with hghts, and tiie shades not yet dra^. Thei^ wS
the dining room, where the negro butler wal moving
L-^yr- L:>Bi-iiTiKWB-aiBKi-
JihijwJidk.
90
THE CRISIS
about the table ; and the pantry, where the bntler went
occasionally ; and the kitchen, with black figures moving
about. But upstairs on the two streets was the sitting
room. The straight figure of the Colonel passed adross
the light. He held a newspaper in his hand. Suddenly,
fuU in the window, he stopped and flung away the paper.
A graceful shadow slipped across the wall. Virginia laid
her hands on his shoulders, and he stooped to kiss her.
Now they sat between the curtains, she on the arm of his
chair and leaning on him, together looking out of the
window.
How long this lasted Mr. Hopper could not say. Even
the wise forget themselves. But all at once a wagon
backed and bumped against the curb in front of him, and
Eliphalet's head dropped as if it had been struck by the
wheel. Above him a sash screamed as it opened, and he
heard Mr. Renault's voice say, to some person below : —
" Is that you, Capitaine Grant?"
" The same," was the brief reply.
"I am charmed that you have brought the wood. I
thought that you had forgotten me."
" I try to do what I say, Mr. Renault."
" Attendez — wait I " cried Mr. Renault, and closed the
window.
Now was Eliphalet's chance to bolt. The perspiration
had come again, and it was cold. But directly the excit-
able little man, Renault, had appeared on the pavement
above him. He had been running.
" It is a long voyage from Gravois with a load of wood,
Capitaine — I am very grateful."
" Business is business, Mr. Renault," was the self-con-
tained reply.
"Alphonsel" cried Mr. Renault, "Alphonsel" A
door opened in the back wall. " Du vin pour Monsieur
le Capitaine."
"Oui, M'sieu."
Eliphalet was too frightened to wonder why this taci-
turn handler of wood was called Captain, and treated wiUi
such respect.
w^^'-:m^w^^%m
THE MOLE
81
«.iH^! u7 °* teke any wine to-night, Mr. Renault,"
ii^% ' ^f " ^° '°«^^«' «' y«"'» tokl cold."
Mr. Renault protested, asked about all the residents of
Gravois way and finally obeyed. Eliphalet's hearfwas
Hberiv El^i.h.wh^^''/^^"* would have dashed for
Ho ^r ^I Phajet did not possess that kind of bravery.
th«Vfi M ^^^° t^"^* ^^«*^*d' ^ith the light from
nortrSf nf TP ""^ ^S ^*??- ^^^*'' "^^^^^ »° ineffaceabb
£?m W^nH '" r \^' "^P.P"''« '"^"^^ «« that he knew
him instantly when he saw him years afterward. Little
did he reckon that the fourth time he was to see him th s
man was to be President of the United Stated He wore
a close-cropped beard, an old blue army overcoat, and his
Swmi T". * -f ^!f ^"^ * P^^"- «^ °»"ddy cowhide boote
Swiftly but silently the man reached down and hauled
Ehphalet to the sidewalk by the nape of the neck.
hl„« V. '^^^•'^'', ^^''^"^ there ? '*^ demanded he of the
blue overcoat, sternly.
h«^fi?i?^v did not answer With one frantic wrench
ne freed himself, and ran down Locust Street. At the
corner, turning fearfully, he perceived the man in the
overcoat calmly preparing to unload his wood.
ra
-^^Mr---mm.\
-<^^^^^'^'
CHAPTER III
THE UNATTAINABLB SIMPLICITT
To Mr. Hopper the being caught was the unpardonable
crime. And indeed, with many of us, it is humiliation
and not conscience which makes the sting. He walked
out to the end of the city's growth westward, where the
new houses were going up. He had reflected coolly on
consequences, and found there were none to speak of.
Many a moralist, Mr. Davitt included, would have shaken
his head at this. Miss Crane's whole Puritan household
would have raised their hands in horror at such a doctrine.
Some novelists I know of, who are in reality celebrated
surgeons in disguise, would have shown a good part of
Mr. Eliphalet Hopper's mental insides in as many words
as I have taken to chronicle his arrival in St. Louis.
They invite us to attend a clinic, and the horrible skill
with which they wield the scalpel holds us spellbound.
For God has made all of us, rogue and saint, burglar and
burgomaster, marvellously alike. We read a patent
medicine circular and shudder with seven diseases. We
peruse one of Mr. So and So's intellectual tonics and are
sure we are complicated scandals, fearfully and wonder-
fully made.
Alas, I have neither the skill nor the scalpel to show
the diseases of Mr. Hopper's mind ; if, indeed, he had any.
Conscience, when contracted, is just as troublesome as
croup. Mr. Hopper was thoroughly healthy. He had
ambition, as I have said. But he was not morbidly sen-
sitive. He was calm enough when he got back to the
boarding-house, which he found in as high a pitch of ex-
citement as New Englanders ever reach.
And over what ?
88
^Bsmms'^^^s&iiS^i
THE UNATTAINABLE SIMPLICITY
23
Over the prospective arrival that evening of the Brices,
mother and son, from Boston. Miss Crane had received
the message m the morning. Palpitating with the news,
she had hurried rusthig to Mrs. Abner Reed, with the
paper in her hand.
Mn^et ^^^ ^°°'* ™^*'' ^'*^* Appleton Brice," said
" That's just wlio I mean," answered Miss Crane, trium-
phantly, — nav, aggressively.
ove^wiefm^rtth ptoS^^^ ^" ^ ""'' *'^^ '"^^^ ^^'^'^
be;;irBo'a "" ^"^'^''" "^' ^^^- " ^-'* ^- --
Miss Crane bridled This was an uncalled-for insult.
I giess I visited down Boston-way oftener than you,
Eliza Reed. You never had any clothes."
Mrs. Reed's strength was her imperturbability.
"And you never set eyes on the Brice house, opposite
the Common, with the swelled front? I'd like to find out
where you were a-visitin . And you've never heard tell
of the Brice homestead, at Westbury, that was Colonel
Wilton Brice s, who fought in the Revolution? I'm
astonished at you, Mirandy. When I used to be at the
Dales, m Mount Vernon Street, in thirty-seven, Mrs.
Charles Atterbury Bnce used to come there in her car-
nage, a-callin . She was Appleton's mother. Severe I
Save us, exclaimed Mrs. Reed, "but she was stiff as
starched crepe. His father was minister to France. The
Brices were in the India trade, and they had money enough
to buy the whole of St. Louis." J- K"
Miss Crane rattled the letter m her hand. She brought
lortn her reserves. °
*!, " ^f ' *5? Appleton Brice lost it all, in the panic. And
then he died, and left the widow and son without a
cent.
Mrs. Reed took off her spectacles.
« I want to know 1 " she exclaimed. « The durned fool I
Well, Appleton Bnce didn't have the family brains, and
he was kind of soft-hearted. I've heard Mehitabel Dale
^S^fTK
,>!£■- -7aat-3»W^»t^£^ ItT
u
THE CRISIS
they're coming
say that/' She paused to reflect. "So
here ? " she added. " I wonder why."
Miss Crai e's triumph was not over.
** Because Silas Whipple was some kin to Appleton
Brice, and he has offered the boy a place in his law office."
Miss Reed laid down her knitting.
" Save us I ' she said. " This is a day of wonders,
Mirandy. Now Lord help the boy if he'' goin' to work
for the Judcfe."
" The Judge has a soft heart, if he is crabbed," declared
the spinster. " I've heard say of a good bit of charity
he's done. He's a soft heart."
" Soft as a green quince I " said Mrs. Abner, scornfully.
" How many friends has he ? "
" Those he has are warm enough," Miss Crane retorted.
" Look at Colonel Carvel, who has him to dinner everv
Sunday." ^
"That's plain as your nose, Mirandy Crane. They
both like quarrellin' better than anything in this world."
"Well,' said Miss Oine, "I must go make ready for
the Brices."
Such was the importance of the occasion, however, that
she could not resist calling at Mrs. Merrill's room, and
she knocked at Mrs. Chandler's door to tell that lady and
her daughter.
No Burke has as yet arisen in this country of ours to
write a Peerage. Fame awaits him. Indeed, it was even
then awaiting him, at the time of the panic of 1857.
With what infinite pains were the pedigree and posses-
sions of the Brice family pieced together that day by the
scattered residents from Puritan-land in the City of St.
Louis. And few buildings would have borne the wear
and tear of many house-cleanings of the kind Miss Crane
indulged in throughout the morning and afternoon.
Mr. Eliphalet Hopper, on his return from business, was
met on the steps and requested to wear his Sunday
clothes. Like the good republican that he was, Mr.
Hopper refused. He had ascertained that the golden
charm which made the Brices worthy of tribute had been
THE UNATTAINABLE SIMPLICITY 26
i^L ^?™™«'°»al "upremacy, — that was Mr. Hopper's
Ehphalet at WiUesden had heard a great deal of Bos
ton airs and graces and intellectuality, of the favoZ
few of that city who lived in mysterious houses and who
crossed the sea in ships. He pitured MrHrice iskTn^
for a spoon, and young Stephen sniffing at Mrs Crane?
boarding-house. And he resolved with democratic sp^rij
onerea. His own discrepancy between the real and th«
unagmed was no greater tLn Lt of the res't ofhis fellow!
in^ti'iiiif iS!S'^^' '!"''- ^'^ ''/'''' ?^^»de that even-
Cr:Z^. • i"^ bombazines and broadcloths, and Miss
motfJf^r^ preserves on the tea-table. Alas, that
Trl' VroundT"' '^°^™ ^' ^^^« "«^^^ ^^-^^ ^-^"P^n
boJrderrwi^Tlt^"®' K^'- "°PP«^' «^°d «'>°>« ^^her
Doaraers, was simplicity. None save the trulv ereat nos
'Z so n^a'uraMhit fi^ ^^°^^^"^ known). "UTfe
Tn^int^S TK f ^'■'^ ^""^".'"^^ ** *^»' t^at a" were dis-
appointed. The hero upon the reviewing sfand with the
l^vof fL^W T" behind his head is%ne thing; the
la^ of Family who sits beside you at a boardina-house
and discusses the weather and the journey is quit^ anothe?
They were prepared to hear Mrs. Brice ?ail at the dirt of
St. Louis and the crudity of the West. Thev pictured
i^lS thatTt^r'^ ^'^l!? ^ ^?' Connections, a/dTewal
Sfrvard. ^ ' °°^ ^^''^ ^""^^^^ ^'^ course at
She did nothing of the sort.
inlhe^nifv J^^^^^iT^ f ^u^* *^^* ^"- A^°«' Reed cried
in the privacy of her chamber, and the Widow Crane con-
fnend, Mrs. Merrill. Not many years Uter a man named
I u
'vm
w
liA.Aijk
26
THE CRISIS
Grant wu to be in Spnnfffield, with a carpet bag, despised
as a vagabond. A very homely man named Lincoln went
to Cincinnati to try a case before the Supreme Court, and
was snubbed by a man named Stanton.
When we meet the truly sreat, several things may hap-
pen. In the first place, we begin to believe in their luck,
or fate, or whatever we choose to call it, and to curse our
?7r ^\ ?f^'" *** ""^^P®^* ourselves the more, and to
realize that thev are merely clay like us, that we are great
men without Opportunity. Sometimes, if we live lone
enough near the Great, we begin to have misgivings
inen there IS hope for us. *
Mrs. Brice, with her simple black gowns, quiet manner,
and serene face, with her interest in others and none in
herself, had a wonderful eflFect upon the boarders. Thev
were nearly all prepared to be humble. They grew arro-
gant and pretentious. They asked Mrs. Brice ifshe knew
this and that person of consequence in Boston, with whom
the^ claimed relationship or intimacy. Her answers were
amiable and self-contained.
But what shall we say of Stephen Brice? Let us con-
not Ehphalet Hopper. It would be so easy to paint
Stephen in shining colors, and to make him a first-class
Kf? ^J. ^ "u"* i"*^ all novelists), that we must begin
with the drawbacks. First and worst, it must be con-
fessed that Stephen had at that time what has been called
the Boston manner " This was not Stephen's fault, but
Boston 8. Young Mr. Brice possessed that wonderful
power of expressing distance in other terms besides ells
and furlongs, — and yet he was simple enough with it all.
Many a furtive stare he drew from the table that even-
l°§\v ^T'",® °^® o"* *^o of discernment present,
and they noted that his were the generous features of a
marked man, — if he cbose to become marked. He inher-
ited his mother 8 look ; hers was the face of a strong
woman, wide of sympathy, broad of experience, showing
peace of mmd amid troubles — the touch of femininity
was there to soiten it. ^
THE UNATTAINABLE SIMPLICITY m
Her son had the ur of the college-bred. In these sur-
n^t^^Sf ^^Ti "^ofir^nce by the wonderful kindli-
?r h T' ""^^"^ ^'^t^^ ^^«° *>'» ™«ther spoke to
him. But he was not at home at Miss Crane's taKe, and
he made no attempt to appear at his ease.
This was an unexpected pleasure for Mr. Elinhalet
f'ff ; kK' ''■ °?^^ **'«"^^^ *^»t »»« ^^ the onfy one
at that table to indulge in a little secret rejoicing. ^But
It was a peculiar satisfaction to him to reflect that these
people, who had held up their heads for so many genera!
tions, were humbled at last. To be humbled ^eant fn
Mr. Hopper's philosophy, to lose one's money. It wZ
thus he gauged the importance of his acquaintances ; it
was thus he hoped some day to be gauged And he
rusted and believed that the^time woSld^come when he
could give his fil ip to the upi>er rim of fortune's wheel!
and send it spinning downward.
Mr. Hopper was drinking his tea and silently forming
an estimate. He concludeS that young Brice w^as not th!
type to acquire the money which his father had lost
And he reflected that Steph'en must feel as strange in St
Louis as a cod might amongst the cat-fish in the Mississippi.
So the assistant manager of Carvel & Company resolved
to indulge in the pleasure of patronizing the Bostonian.
Callatm to go to work ? " he asked him, as the
boarders walked into the best room.
•!1^®^" 1®P^^®^ Stephen, taken aback. And it mav be
said here that, if Mr. Hopper underestimated him. ce^
tainly he underestimated Mr. Hopper.
"It ain't easy to get a job this Fall," said Eliphalet.
"St. Louis houses have felt the panic."
"I am sorry to hear that."
"What business was you callatin' to grapple with ? "
Law, said Stephen.
Tn".?r? 'i!' ^''''^^^l^. ^l- "Wer, "I want to know."
In reality he was a bit chagrined, having pictured with
some pleasure the Boston aristocrat going from store to
store ior a situation. " You didn't come here figurin'on
makin' a pile, I guess." *
,mM.
THE CRISIS
"A what?"
" A pUe."
Stephen looked down and o\ er Mr. Hopper attentively.
He took in the blocky shoulders and the square head,
and he pictured the little eyes at a vanishing-point in
lines of a bargain. Then humor — blessed humor — came
to his rescue. He had entered the race in the West,
where all start equal. He had come here, like this man
who was succeeding, to make his living. Would he
succeed ?
Mr. Hopper drew something out of his pocket, eyed
Miss Crane, and bit off a corner.
" What office was you going into ? " he asked gen-
ially.
Mr. Brice decided to answer that.
" Judge Whipple'a*^ unless he has changed his mind."
Eliphalet gave nim a look mti'e eloquent than words.
" Know the Judge ? "
" No."
Silent laughter.
** If all the Fourth of Julys weVe had was piled into
one," said Mr. Hopper, slowly and with conviction, **■ they
wouldn't be a circumstance to Silas Whipple when he
gets mad. My boss, Colonel Carvel, is the only man in
town who'll stand up to him. I've seen 'em begin a
?uarrel in the store and carry it all the way up the street,
callate you won't stay with him a great while."
CHAPTER IV
BLACK CATTLE
Lateb that evening Stephen Brice was sitting by the
open windows in his mother's room, looking silently down
on the street-lights below.
. " Well, my dear," asked the lady, at length, " what do
you think of it all ? "
" They are kind people," he said.
" Yes, they are kmd," she assented, with a sigh. " But
they are not — they are not from among our friends,
Stephen."
** I thought that one of our reasons for coming West,
mother," answered Stephen.
His mother looked pained.
" Stephen, how can you I We came West in order that
you might have more chance for the career to which you
are entitled. Our friends in Boston were more tnan
good."
He left the window and came and stood behind her
chair, his hands clasped playfully beneath her chin.
" Have you the exact date about you, mother ? "
" What date, Stephen ? "
"When I shall leave St. Louis for the United States
Senate. And you must not forget that there is a youth
limit in our Constitution for senators."
Then the widow smiled, — a little sadly, perhaps. But
still a wonderfully sweet smile. And it made her strong
face akin to all that was human and helpful.
** I believe that you have the subject of my first speech
in that august assembly. And, by the way, what was
it?"
"It was on 'The Status of the Emigrant,'" she re-
80
THE CRISIS
sponded instantly, thereby proving that she was his
mother.
"And it touched the Rights of Privacy," he added,
laughing, "which do not seem to exist in St. Louis
boarding-houses. "
" In the eyes of your misguided profession, statesmen
and authors and emigrants and other public charges have
no Rights of Privacy," said she. " Mr. Longfellow told
me once that they were to name a brand of flour for him,
and that he had no redress."
" Have you, too, been up before Miss Crane's Commis-
sion ? " he asked, with amused interest.
His mother laughed.
" Yes," she said quietly.
"They have some expert members," he continued.
" This Mrs. Abner Reed could be a shining light in any
bar. I overheard a part of her cross-examination. She
— she had evidently studied our case — "
"My dear," answered Mrs. Brice, "I suppose they
know all about us." She.was silent a moment— "I had
so hoped that they wouldn't. They lead the same narrow
hfe m this house that they did in their little New England
towns. They — they pity us, Stephen."
"Mother I"
"I did not expect to find so many New Englanders here
— I wish that Mr. Whipple had directed us elsewhere — '*
"He probably thought that we should feel at home
among New Englanders. I hope the Southerners will be
more considerate. I believe they will," he added.
" They are very proud," said his mother. "A wonderful
people, — born aristocrats. You don't remember those
Randolphs with whom we travelled through England.
They were with us at HoUingdean, Lord Northwell's place.
You were too small at the time. There was a young girl,
Eleanor Randolph, a beauty. I shall never forget the
wajr she entered those English drawing-rooms. They
visited us once in Beacon Street, afterwards. And I have
heard that there are a great many good Southern families
here in St. Louis."
-J'-f!!^-
9 "^ tm-^ mmti^
BLACK CATTLE
31
"You did not glean that from Judge Whionle's lett«r
mother," said Stephen, mischievously. ^"^^^^^^ ^®**«'»
« He was very frank in his letter,''^ sighed Mrs. Brice.
I imagine he is always frank, to put it delicately."
mv Jrr Ir *^^»3^« «P?^e in praise of Silas Whipple,
my dear. I have heard him call him one of the ablest
t^Aluf *k' '°^iT- «« ^°^ » remarkable <Z
for Appleton here, and he once said that the Judge would
^''uTr ^ T^ relentlessness by rascally politicians."^
f»,l V ?r ^^".1&«« »° a little relentlessness now and
a i^^H !If ^ ?l'* '''i* precisely what might be termed
a mild man, if what we hear is correct." "
Mrs. Brice started.
" w**** ^*^^ ^°" ^®*^*^ ^ " "1^® asked,
ao/^^^l^'w®''? "^^^ * gentleman on the steamboat who
saia that It took more courage to enter the 'udge's private
office than to fight a Border Ruffian. And another a
young laisr^er, who declared that he would rather face a
wUd cat than ask Whipple a question on the new
f^^'«n ^-^ ?' ^^ *^** ^^^ ^""^Se knew more law
than any man m tne West. And lastlyfthere is a polished
gentleman named Hopper here from Massachusetts who
enlightened me a little more."
Stephen paused and bit his tongue. He saw that she
was distressed bv these things. Heaven knows that she
had borne enough trouble in the last few months.
l.nw fTf'L°'''*^^'?"i ^'^ ^'^, «^®°*ly' "yo« «l»o"ld know
how to take my jokes by this time. I didn't mean it.
1 am sure the Judge is a good man, — one of those ai? eres-
sive good men who make enemies. I have but a sinele
piece of guilt to accuse him of." ^
" And what is that ? " asked the widow.
"The cunning forethought which he is showing in
wishing to have it said that a certain Senator and jSdge
Brice was trained in his office." ®
"Stephen — you goose I " she said.
Kaff^LT wandered around the room,-. Widow Crane's
best bedroom. It was dimly lighted by an extremely
I
I
FMj.^-
38
THE CRISIS
ugly lamp. The hideous stufiPy bed curtains and the
more hiaeous imitation marble mantel were the two
objects that held her glance. There was no change in
her calm demeanor. But Stephen, who knew hie mother,
felt that her little elation over her arrival had ebbed.
Neither would confess dejection to the other.
" I» — even I, — " said Stephen, tapping his chest, " have
at least made the acquaintance of one prominent citizen,
Mr. Eliphalet D. Hopper. According to Mr. Dickens,
he is a true American gentleman, for he chews tobacco.
He has been in St. Louis five years, is now assistant
manager ot the largest dry goods house, and still lives in
one of Miss Crane s four-dollar rooms. I think we may
safely say that he will be a millionaire before I am a
senator."
He paused.
"And mother?'*'
" Yes, dear."
He put his hands in his pockets and walked over to
the window.
" I think that it would be better if I did the same thing."
" What do you mean, my son — "
"If I went to work, — started sweeping out a store, I
mean. See here, mother, you've sacrificed enough for
me already. After paying father's debts, we've come
out here with only a few thousand dollars, and the nine
hundred I saved out of this year's Law School allowance.
What shall we do when that is gone? The honorable
legal profession, as my friend reminded me to-night, is not
the swiftest road to millions."
With a mother's discernment she guessed the agitation
he was striving to hide ; she knew that he had been gath-
ering courage for this moment for months. And she
knew that he was renouncing thus lightly, for her sake,
an ambition he had had from his school days.
The widow passed her hand over her brow. It was a
space before she answered him.
" My son," she said, " let us never speak of this again.
It was your father's dearest wish tiiat you should beoome
tjtsria t; 15 _ ' 4.-V
BLACK CATTLE
33
i \
God wUl take
a lawyer, and -and his wishes are sacred,
care of us.
She rose and kissed him good-night.
Kemember, my dear, when you ^o to Judae Whinni.
m the morning, remember his kindnfss, and3' ^^
A ^1?i ?? "^l **''°?®'- I «^aU, mother. "
A whjle later he stole gently back into her room airain
She was on her knees by the walnut bedstead. ^
veivec, even though the animal had been a friend nf
JirnnT T ^'"^^^ distasteful. But it /ad to bHone
through. So presently, after inquiry, he came to the f nen
square where the new Court flouie stoX the dome o^
wWh was indicated by a mass of steging, and one winJ
8ti 1 to be completed. Across from the bui ding, on Mar?
ten a^'^^td^dini^' ^l^t "^ *^« ^'^'^^ ^^^^^^ once
^en a golden hand pomted up a narrow dusty stairwav
Here was a sign "Law office of Silas Whipple: " ^'
Stephen climbed the stairs, and arriv at a crrn,i«^
glass door on which the sign was related. BehiKai
door was the future : so he opened it fearfuUy with on
impu^ to throw his arm above his hear &t he was
struck dumb on beholding, instead of a dragon, a lo™
natured young man who smiled a broad welcome *^The
reaction was ^ great as though one entered a Agon's
Stephen's heart went out to this young man, -after
that organ had jumped back into its place^ This keener
of the dragon looked the part. Even the long blLk coat
which custom then decreed could not hide ZbZ Td
34
THE CRISIS
sinew under it. The young man had a broad forehead,
placid Dresden-blue eyes, flaxen hair, and the Garman
coloring. Across one of his high cheek-bones was a great
JAggod scar which seemed to add distinction to his appear-
ance. That caught Stephen's eye, and held it. He won-
dered whether it were the result of an encounter with the
Judge.
"You wish to see Mr. Whipple?" he asked, in the
accents of an educated German.
"Yes," said Stephen, " if he isn't busy."
" He is out," said the other, with just a suspicion of a
d in the word. "You know he is much occupied now,
fighting election frauds. You read the papers ?
" I am a stranger bere," said Stephen.
'* Ach I " exclaimed the German, " now I know you, Mr.
Brice. The young one from Boston the Judge spoke of.
But you did not tell him of your arrival."
"I did not wish to bother him," Stephen replied,
smiling.
"My name is Richter — Carl Richter, sir."
The pressure of Mr. Richter's big hands warmed Stephen
as nothing else had since he had come West. He was
moved to return it with a little more fervor than he usu-
ally showed. And he felt, whatever the Judge might be,
that he had a powerful friend near at hand — Mr. Rich-
ter's welcome came near being an embrace.
"Sit down, Mr. Brice," he said; "mild weather for
November, eh? The Judge will be here in an hour."
Stephen looked around him : at the dusty books on the
shelves, and the still dustier books heaped on Mr. Richter's
big table ; at the cuspidors ; at the engravings of Wash-
ington and Webster; at the window in the jog which
looked out on the court-house square; and finally at
another ground-glass door on which was printed : —
SILAS WHIPPLE
PRIVATE
This, then, was the den, — the arena in which was tc
BLACK CATTLE 39
take place a memorable interyiew Rnf *K« *»,« u^ ,
hundred doUars in his pocket rwhiTh. i"^ over nine
o' W" W- year's allowaC at t^e Law |oh'',iir1 T'
asked Mr. Richter, who was duatlL „ff '^\°^')- So he
him to the nearest Ck *^ "'""'• '" "'"«<"
Ch Jnu^' W !^'"„T^ \'Z^l B"»»">«de'a bank on
pointed !c?,Slhe square MaStr *°.""' "'"'*°" ""-^
you," he added, " but th"'judL?nZZ \^T°\«^ '''»''
Mt 'b1"1S:^> *"' ««- ' I^Sf^vf jl^ra^ote "^
tha;"Mpi;;;tri^^tfe,;'^'-^ » "nought
Mr. Richter laughed.
wagS"" ""*" '" ^"^" "^^ •">• "The Judge pays him
bir&nti:^^ wttX^Tot^thfttr *^ot
ht-»^'an7iif^;'- ^ »^^' - -' ^-^ 'i^ a*
gritn^sU'-ire ws.^: *„^; V^^4 '^^l
beings waiting to be sold at auction M? I vnil'» T
thiV^-oT -^Ki'" '^^^ »":sVSe:^'thL^
our t:^;s,^:tt{rdo';o'^x:iett sx*
r
iSf., V
THE CRISIS
I
misery and the dumb heart-aches of those days I Stephen
thought with agony of seeing his own mother sold before
his eyes, and the building in front of him was lifted
from its foundation and rocked even as shall the temples
on the judgment day.
The oily auctioneer waa inviting the people to pinch
the wares. Men came forward to leel the creatures and
look into their mouths, and one brute, unshaven and
with filthy linen, snatched a child from its mother's lap.
Stephen shuddered with the sharpest pain he had ever
known. An ocean-wide tempest arose in his breast, — a
Samson's strength to break the pillars of the temple,
to slay these men with his bare hands. Seven genera-
tions of stern life and thought had their focus here in
him, — from Oliver Cromwell to John Brown.
Stephen was far from prepared for the storm that raged
within him. He had not been brought up an Abolitionist,
— far from it. Nor had his father^ friends — who were
deemed at that time the best people in Boston — been
Abolitionists. Only three years before, when Boston had
been aflame over the delivery of the fugitive Anthony
Burns, Stephen had gone out of curiosity to the mass
meeting at Faneuil Hall. How well he remembered his
father's indignation when he confessed it, and in his
anger Mr. Brice had called Phillips and Parker " agita-
tors." But his father, nor his father's friends in Boston,
had never been brought face to face with this hideous
traffic.
Hark ! Was that the sing-song voice of the auctioneer ?
He was selling the cattle. High and low, caressing and
menacing, he teased and exhorted them to buy. They
were bidding, yes, for the possession of souls, bidding in
the currency of the Great Republic. And between the
eager shouts came a moan of sheer despair. What was
the attendant doing now ? He was tearing two of them
from a last embrace.
Three — four were sold while Stephen was in a dream.
Then came a lull, a hitch, and the crowd began to
chatter gayly. But the misery in front of him held
BLACK CATTLE
87
Stephen in a spell. Figures stood out from the group.
A white-haired patriarch, with eyes raised to the sky ; a
flat-breasted woman whose child was gone, whose weakness
made her valueless. Then two girls were pushed forth, one
a quadroon of great beautv, to be fingered. Stephen
turned his face away, — to behold Mr. Eliphalet Hopper
looking calmly on.
" Wal, Mr. Brice, this is an interesting show now, ain't
it ? Something we don't have. I generally stop here to
take a look when I'm passing." And he spat tobacco juice
on the coping.
Stephen came to his senses.
" And you are from New England ? " he said.
Mr. Hopper laughed.
"Tarnation I " said he, "you get used to it. When I
come here, I was a sort of an Abolitionist. But after
you've lived here awhile you get to know that niffeers
ain't fit for freedom." ***
Silence from Stephen.
"Likely gal, that beautv," Eliphalet continued unre-
pressed. "There's a well-known New Orleans dealer
named Jenkins after her. I callate she'll go down river."
"I reckon you're right, Mistah," a man with a matted
beard chimed in, and added with a wink : " she'll find it
pleasant enough — fer a while. Some of those other nig-
pn will go too, and thev'd rather go to hell. They do treat
'em nefarious daown thah on the wholesale plantations.
Household niggers I there ain't none better off than them.
But seven years in a cotton swamp, — seven years it takes :
that's aU, Mistah." ^
Stephen moved away. He felt that to stay near the
man was to be tempted to murder. He moved away, and
just then the auctioneer yelled, " Attention ! "
" Gentlemen," he cried, " I have heah two sisters, the
prcye'ty of the late Mistah Robe't Benbow, of St. Louis,
as fine a pair of wenches as was ever offe'd to the public
from these heah steps — "
" Speak for the handsome gal," cried a wag.
" Sell off the cart boss fust," said another.
THE CRISIS
'•I ',
1
,',i
jl
The auctioneer turned to the darker sister.
"Sal ain't much on looks, gentlemen," he said, "but
sue 8 the best nigser for work Mistah Benbow had." He
seized her arm and squeezed it, while the girl flinched and
drew back. "She's solid, gentlemen, and sound as a
What'am I bid ?'" '"'' """^ '°^^* '^^^^^^'^^^ ^^^^ «W-
Much to the auctioneer's disgust, Sal was bought in for
four hundred dollars, the interest in the beautiful sister
havmc: made the crowd impatient. Stephen, sick at heart,
turned to leave. Halfway to the corner he met a little
elderly man who was the color of a dried gourd. And
just as Stephen passed him, this man was overtaken by
an old negress, with tears streaming down her face, who
i^vofunterily. ' ^""" "^ ^'' ''^'' ^*^P^^° ^^"^^
"Well, Nancy," said the little man, « we had marvellous
T \x. ^^ *^^® \° ^"^ y^^^ daughter for you with less
tnan tne amount of your savings."
;; T'ank you, Mistah Cantah,^' wailed the poor woman,
t ank you, suh. Praised be de name ob de Lawd. He
gib me Sal again. Oh, Mistah Cantah " (the asfony in
that cry), "IS you gwineter stan' heah an' see her sister
Hester sol to — to — oh, ma little chile I De little
chile dat I nussed, dat I raised up in God's 'ligion. Mis-
tah Cantah, save her, suh, f'om dat wicked life o' sin. De
Lawd Jesus 11 rewa'd you, suh. Dis ole woman'U wuk fo'
yo'J *weU de flesh drops off'n her fingers, suh."
And had he not held her, she would have gone down
on her knees on the stone flagging before him. Her suffer-
ing was stamped on the little man's face, - and it seemed
to Stephen that this was but one trial more which adversity
had brought to Mr. Canter. "veisity
"Nancy," he answered (how often, and to how many,
must he have had to say the same thing), " I haven't the
money, Nancy. Would to God that I had, Nancy I "
She had sunk down on the bricks. But she had not
!?i !•;. iV"^^ ''''} t"" merciful as that. It was Stephen
who lifted her, and helped her to the coping, where she
BLACK CATTLE
39
sat with her head bowed between her knees, the scarlet
bandanna awr^.
Stephen Bnce was not of a descent to do things upon
impulse. But the tale was told in after days that one
of nis first actions in St. Louis was of this nature. The
waters stored for ages in the four great lakes, given the
opportunity, rush over Niagara Falls into Ontario.
" Take the woman away," said Stephen, in a low voice,
"and I will buy the girl, — if I can."
The little man looked up, dazed.
"Give me your card, — your address. I will buy the
girl, if I can, and set her free."
He fumbled in his pocket and drew out a dirty piece of
pasteboard. It read : " R. Canter, Second Hand Furni-
ture, 20 Second Street." And still he stared at Stephen,
as one who gazes upon a mystery. A few curious pedes-
trians had stopped in front of them.
"Get her away, if you can, for God's sake," said Stephen
again. And he strode off toward the people at the
auction. He was trembling. In his eagerness to reach
a place of vantage before the girl was sold, he pushed
roughly into the crowd.
But suddenly he was brought up short by the blocky
body of Mr. Hopper, who grunted with the force of the
impact.
"Gosh," said that gentleman, "but you are inters'ted.
They ain't begun to sell her yet — he's waitin' for some-
bod^. Gallatin' to buy her?" asked Mr. Hopper, with
genial humor.
Stephen took a deep breath. If he knocked Mr. Hopper
down, he certainly could not buy her. And it was a relief
to know that the sale had not begun.
As for Eliphalet, he was beginning to like young Brice.
He approved of any man from Boston who was not
too squeamish to take pleasure in a little affair of this
kind.
As for Stephen, Mr. Hopper brought him back to earth.
He ceased trembling, and began to think.
" Tarnation 1 " said Eliphalet. " There's my boss. Colonel
i- .
40
THE CB18IS
group. ^Jr;, And Stephen gl.„oed .b«„tly .t the
were coming to » ri.ve auct on'Tsurelv not^i '^°P'°
here they were on the Mvenent .t b« verv ,?d, ""^ ^'"
of dark green veW vTla I '"""^ * "="»? 'x'nnet
Wj and Wn-h^^'rhea^i^ll.'' 'C^'^ra'™^'^ "i^ T
beaut Avtgw'^'j;^ r-iS "5! "'""'• The
StepSen winced. But m.^^^.;^. i '"°*»n«. "to view,
the eff^t upon vS^^"^^:^:"'^ "« »™«'. *» «e
He™ w«le ^trZ'^ "PO." "" '-he..
«» po«*i ""« rasp ot tne auctioneer s voicp •
Mddt°^:r»'o^?r„ntra.''"tti"r.^? "^'-i «»
well, gentlemen. HSk vt^ .i*^ ^»'- f""'' »* her
ture?* *■" y""- "n t she a splendid orea-
'•C^t°CyySl'si?d'^'gS'?!:K^'»^ 'o "«>™ <»•
over." ■^ ne said, X had no business to bring you
Tou W that iT^ys^t^t^-pj^y her '" -•
■fe^i^i,^:itu^^mjr
^^;
BLACK CATTLE
41
wh4 meant «f SS=h to htaV H?'i^.r'"* *''«.-»»"y
elbowing to the front AnTJlf the ni«n Jenkins
not Bet her ? H. h. j '^^^ r ""PPoee Mr. Colfax did
and r«,rher fi!^' "^ »"»»«<» »» b»,v her if he could.
^•f<
II
iti
CHAPTER V
THE FIRST SPARK PASSES
K»!I fi^-^i! §«?*lemen," shouted the auctioneer, when he
^jw^^^^^^''''^'°'\ "P**" ^^^ S"^'^ attractions, « what
am I bid? Eight hundred ? "
Stephen caught his breath. There was a long pause.
No one cared to start the bidding. ^
" Come, gentlemen, come I There's my friend Alf Jen-
nmgs. He know-s what she's worth to a nickel. What'll
you give, Alf ? Is it eight hundred ? "
Mr. Jennings winked at the auctioneer, and the crowd
joined m the laugh.
" Three hundred ! " he said.
crild^ll^°*^°°^®'^ ^" mortaUy o£Pended. Then some one
" Three hundred and fifty I "
r.J^J^-r'^^^ ^''"**- "® ^»« recognized at once, by
name, evidently as a person of importance. ^
Ihankyou, Mistah Colfax, suh," said the auctioneer,
TnL f '^y^^/^r.^^ *^^"*°*^ '"^ ^« direction, while the
crowd twisted their necks to see him. He stood very
straight, very haughty, as if enti^jly oblivious to his con-
spicuous position.
" Three seventy-five ! "
aarl3'**'n ^^*^' ^Istah Jcnniugs," said the auctioneer,
sarcastically. He turned to the mrl, who might have
we^« fn?H«/'"^f °'. HV ^P^l ^^ ^''^'' Her hands
were folded m front of her, her head bowed down. The
fni^iT^"" .fni ^^ ^^^^ "'*^^'* ^^^ «hi^ and raised it
nn?&. i?ll!! T "y 8^^'" ^« ^^^ "yo« ain't got
nothing to blubber about now." *^
Hester's breast heaved, and from her black eyes there
43
THE FIEST 8PABK PASSES a
tMrxi^roL'""" "*''»''<'• «'"«»«''«i- That
The white blood I
" Four hundred I "
Mr. Brice and C Colfl? ^- ^ *^'^ ""^^^^ B"*^
"Jbour seventy-five I " he cried.
"Thank yoM,suh."
"Five hundred I " snapped Mr. Colfas.
fe *K ,:
IH
,111
I I
^1
I
I
*• THE CRISIS
SSw !" ^^ °°* ri° ^ ^ *^« ^""^ ^J»« ^om relish
retummgr to a young lady and acknowledge a defeat.
shot ufev"*"* A '^' ^^ ^iT ^'^ ^°"*"- The SouSemer
Shot up fifty. Again Stephen raised it ten. He was in
fu^l possession of himself now, and proof affainirthS
^nly veUed irony of the oilv man's remarks T favor tf
^;^f?. ^i\ l\ *" r»-edibly short time the btter^s
dXr^ ^ ^ ^'^''^^' '^'"^ *° ^^^^* ^'^dred and t^n
Then several things happened very quieklv.
Mr. Jennings got up from the curb and said, "Ei^ht
hundred and twenty-five," with his cigar in Ws mou^h
^wt^^l^^'ff^""? of excitement dild when sSphS;
glancing at Colfax for the next move, saw that youna
l^T'^A'^r^ ^'T. *^" ''^' ^y ^^ uncle? the tSg
E^^Tn^hettr^hf ;r^^^^^^^ ^^- '''^^^^ ^-el,
we;cTl:nCoS it!^"^ ^^ ' " ^^^ ^^^^-^ --^- " The
Mr. Colfax shook himself free.
" I've got to buv her now, sir," he cried.
with me?" "'**' "^^ *^' ^"''^"^- "Y^'^ °^°»« »long
bufhl'^^.^'A^f " ™ ^^'•^ *°»^- He struggled,
win™ JS-i' '^!^^• '^' P'«J««tin8r. l^e passed Stephen, at
whom he <M not deign to elance. The humiUatiSn of it
must have been great for llr. Colfax. « Jinny ^te her
sii^" he said, "and I have a right, to buy her.'^ '
" J^°y ^^te «venrthing,« was the Colonel's reolv
And in a single look of curiosity and amiSmenT^^
t'h'S STJ '^"^ "^'* ^^^P^^'^'*'- They seeiSTtTregret
that tins voung man, too, had not 1 guardian. K
uncle and nephew recrossed the street, and ks thev
walked oflf ^e Colonel was seen to laugh vLnia hS
her chin in the air, and Clarence's was £ his coX
The crowd, of course, mdulged in roars of laughter and
even Stephen could not repreS a smile, -a siS not ^Th-
of respect for the personages involved, the auctioneer h«i
THE HR8T SPARK PASSES
m
46
been considerately silent during the event. It was Mr.
Brice who was now the centre of observation.
»' Come, gentlemen, come I this here's a joke — eight
twenty-five. She's worth two thousand. I've been in
the business twenty yea's, and I neve' seen her equal.
Give me a bid, Mr. — Mr. — you have the advantage of
me, suh."
" Eight hundred and thirty-five 1 " said Stephen.
" Now, Mr. Jenkins, now, suh I we've got twenty mo'
to sell."
"Eight fifty I " said Mr. Jenkins.
" Eight sixty I " said Stephen, and they cheered him.
Mr. Jenkins took his cigar out of his teeth, and stared.
" Eight seventy-five 1 " said he.
" Eight eighty-five I " said Stephen.
There was a breathless pause.
" Nine hundred I " said the trader.
" Nine hundred and ten I " cried Stephen.
At that Mr. Jenkins whipped his hat from off his head,
and made Stephen a derisive bow.
" She's youahs, suh," he said. " These here are panic
times. I've struck my limit. I can do bettah in Louis-
ville f o' less. Congratulate you, suh — reckon you want
her wuss'n I do."
At which sally Stephen grew scarlet, and the crowd
howled with joy.
" What I " yelled the auctioneer. " Why, gentlemen,
this heah's a joke. Nine hundred and ten dollars, gents,
nine hundred and ten. We've just begun, gents. Come,
Mr. Jenkins, that's giving her away."
The trader shook his head, and puffed at his cigar.
" Well," cried the oily man, " this m a slaughter. Going
at nine hundred an' ten — nine ten — going — going — "
down came the hammer — "gone at nine hundred and ten
to Mr. — Mr. — you have the advantage of me, suh."
An attendant had seized the girl, who was on the verge
of fainting, and was dragging her back. Stephen did
not heed the auctioneer, but thrust forward regardless of
stares.
46
THE CRISIS
■ i
lit
ii
"SuMinly, sah," he said. '
gr." tut Stns? STddenl^h""" '"'^'' -"" ««">
embarrassment '"ddenly he was overcome with
" yH d •!' • " ■■« "'""'"<'<«'• — >»' harshly.
sh?^°se^„ti'„j,r''fh;ra'/:t""'^ -"'•
"Stephen Atterbury Brioc'*
" Residence, Mr. Brice ! "
do™fu:e°£me'4,rswS- ,".?' '"»'?»d «' '""»« it
in hU face ^^Af^j^l^'^ S. "">? '" "i^^
his quill, and mdulired in .^^i ' , ."""^ ''« P»' down
Mr.^ri,;^'sdisrmS ^' "* '*"»'"«'• ^ely to
-Wh^t'trVr'^tiu-'t^'^'Trt'^:.'' "» -»"•
boa'din'-honse." * ^'"" "■«» a Yankee
^idi^^herSi;'" ""' " P*^ "' y°" •"^■x'". too."
Jn^^KaMaife'S.til'rr'o'o down
promised to lead fn orwilt V . * disturbance which
Seal of pantom ir'anTwWe^iS'r "d , "^f^' '^'t' »
notary behind the wire "S??."?^ laughter with the
eigne.!, attested, and ddiS ' stnif "^ ""^ "J^" <>"*•
t.^nea .He duor m answer to his
Afli^-jr" «3?riri -1
THE FIRST SPARK PASSES 47
ana oiiated. But Stephen, summon ng all his courage
pushed past her to the stairs, and beSkoned HesterTo
he'llid*''^ ^"'"''^^^ this -this person to see my mother,"
^fl^^ir^^'^'i^^J''''^^^ ^'""^ ^^^ ^ack of her neck. She
stetearrMr.'V^ ^^^T' '"^^ ^" '^' ^^" ^^'V^t unSl
«frnH«^n *^ V^"''^^/.*'"'' ^P^" *"d ^^a^'' and then she
nl^t Z ^l '**''' ^^V""^^ *^^ apartment of xMrs. Abner
Reed. As she passed the first landing, the quadroon girl
was waiting in the hall. 4«»Miuoa gm
i
-'9^1E''&v^i
^1 .
CHAPTER VI
SILAS WHIPPLE
The trouble with many narratives is that they tell too
much. Stephen's interview with his mother was a quiet
affair, and not historic. Miss Crane's boarding-house is
not an interesting place, and the tempest in that teapot is
better imagined than described. Out of consideraticm for
Mr. Stephen Brice, we shall skip likewise a most afifectini?
scene at Mr. Canter's second-hand furniture store.
That afternoon Stephen came again to the dirty flight
of steps which led to Judge Whipple's office. He paused
a moment to gather courage, and then, gripping the rail,
« ascended. The ascent required courage now, certainly.
He halted again before the door at the top. But even as
he stood there came to him, in low, rich tones, the notes of
a German song. He entered. And Mr. Richter rose in
shirt-sleeves from his desk to greet him, all smiling
« Ach, my friend I " said he, "but you are late. The
Judge has been awaiting you."
"Has he?" inquired Stephen, with ill-concealed anx-
iety.
The big young German patted him on the shoulder.
Suddenly a voice roared from out the open transom of the
private office, like a cyclone rushing through a gap.
" Mr. Richter I " o o r
" Sir I "
" Who is that ? "
"Mr. Brice, sir."
" Then why in thunder doesn't he come in ? "
Mr. Richter opened the private door, and in Stephen
walked. The door closed again, and there he was in the
dragon s den, face to face with the dragon, who was star-
48
SILAS WHIPPLE
49
raLii-%J ^^^ *^? *i?'°"^^- ^^« fi"* objects that
caught Stephen's attention were the grizzly irav eve-
brows, whicli seemed as so much brush to marf the fire
of the deep-set battery of the eyes. And that battery
when in action, must have been truly terrible
The Judge was shaven, save for a shaggy fringe of erav
ent even m the full face. ^^
Stephen felt that no part of him escaped the search of
Mr. Wliipple's glance. But it was no code or course
of conduct that kept him silent. Nor was it few-
entirely.
1 "So you are Appleton Brice's son," said the Judge, at
iMt^ His tone was not quite so gruff as it might hkve
" Yes, sir," said Stephen.
«.1Y''T^ ^ " ^'? tl^eJudge, with a look that scarcely
tSlT approval. « I guess you've been patted on the
back too much by your father's friends." He leaned
whn ^°,^^« \««den cWr. "How I used to detest people
who patted boys on the back and said with a smirk 'I
could say that about. But, sir," cried the Judge, King-
A^ir °^? ^"^/^^ ""^ *^® ^^"«^ *>^ P»P«™ that covered his
desk, "I made up my mind that one day people should
v.^°^T>r''T. ?^*' Zf^ "^y «P"'- -^"d you'll start fair
here, Mr. Brice. They won't know your father here _ "
If Stephen thought the Judge brutal, he did not say so.
He glanced around the Uttle room, -at the bed in the
corner, m which the Judge slept, and which during the
day did not escape the flood of books and paper?: at
the washstand, with a roll of legal cap beside tUpitcher.
I guess you think this town pretty crude after Boston,
Mr. Brice, Mr. Whipple continued. "From time im-
memorial It has been the pleasant habit of old commu-
nities to be shocked at newer settlements, built by their
own countrymen. Are you shocked, sir ^ "
Stephen flushed. Fortunately the Judge did not give
him time to answer. *^
i !.'
■i
50
THE CBISIS
»♦ Why didn't your mother let me know that she
coming ? "
" She didn't wish to put you to any trouble, sir."
♦* Wasn't I a good friend of your father's ? Didn't I
ask you to come nere and go into my office ? "
" But there was a chance, Mr. Whipple — "
"A chance of what?"
" That you would not like me. And there is still a
chance of it," added Stephen, smiling.
For a second it looked as if the Judge might smile, too.
He rubbed his nose with a fearful violence.
*' Mr. Richter tells me you were looking for a bank,"
said he, presently.
Stephen quaked.
" Yes sir, I was, but — "
But Mr. Whipple tiierely picked up the Counterfeit
Bank Note Detector.
" Beware of Western State Currency as you would the
devil," said he. "That's one thing we don't equal the
East in — yet. And so you want to become a lawyer?"
" I intend to become a lawyer, sir."
"And so you shall, sir," cried the Judge, bringing
down his yellow fist upon the Bank Note Deteetor. " I'll
make you a lawyer, sir. But my methods ain't Harvard
methods, sir."
" I am ready to do anything, Mr. Whipple."
The Judge merely grunted. He scratched among his
papers, and produced some legal cap and a bunch of notes.
" Go out there," he said, " and take off your coat and
copy this brief. Mr. Richter will help you to-day. And
tell your mother I shall do myself the honor to call upon
her this evening."
Stephen did as he was told, without a word. ?ut Mr.
Richter was not in the outer office when he returned to it.
He tried to compose hlr^self to write, although the recol-
lection of each act of the morning hung like a cloud over
the back of his head. Therefore the first sheet of legal
cap was spoiled utterly. But Stephen had a deep sense
of failure. He had gone through the ground glass door
SILAS WHIPPLE 51
th^'cSte'cl^T.,^,""' *» "^ho'-l-one other
»^-47fzr>^^t^'^^„ste"trofi
head, one hand nlanted firmly on the eold hMd of h^u
" Whom)ee I " he cried.
. *;"* of ^1 there was an eloquent silence Tl,«« -
^Mfi^anT.- Then^hescrltc^yxitchofr^quiU
pen, and finaUy the Judge's voice. ^
A ^1^ '^^** i?* *^®^1'« **»« °»a«er with you sir ? »
overcome «>»e of you"", ridlc„lol%^dS>I*'s?r/°" ""^
^A^|nintelligible gurgle oame from the Judge. Then
w.
fli THE CRISIS
" Carvel, haven't you and I quarrelled enouflrh on that
subject ? "
" You didn't happen to attend the nigger auction this
morning when you were at the court ? " asked the ColoneL
blandly.
" Colonel," said the Judge, " I've warned you a hundred
times against the stuflP you lay out on your counter for
customers."
"You weren't at the auction, then," continued the
Colonel, undisturbed. ♦♦ You missed it, sir. You missed
seeing this young man you've just employed buy the
prettiest quadroon wench I ever set eyes on.
Now indeed was poor Stephen on his feet. But whether
to fly in at the one entrance or out at the other, he was
undecided.
"Colonel," said Mr. Whipple, "is that true?"
"Sir I"
"MR. BRICE!"
It did not seem to Stephen as if he was walking when
he went toward the ground glass door. He opened it.
There was Colonel Carvel seated on the bed, his goatee
in his hand. And there was the Judge leaning forward
from his hips, straight as a ramrod. Fire was darting
from beneath his bushy eyebrows. " Mr. Brice," said he,
"there is one question I always ask of those whom I
employ. I omitted it in your case because I have known
your father and your grandfather before you. What is
your opinion, sir, on the subject of holding human beinjra
in bondage ? " "
The answer was immediate, — likewise simple!
"I do not believe in it, Mr. Whipple."
The Judge shot out of his chair like a long jack-in-the
box, and towered to his full height.
" Mr. Brice, did you, or did you not, buy a woman at
auction to-day ? "
"I did, sir."
Mr. Whipple literally staggered. But Stephen caught
a ghmpse of the Colonel's hand slipping from his chin
over his mouth.
SILAS WHIPPLE 09
" Good God, sir I "cried the Judge, and he sat down
heavily. " You say that you are an Abolitionist ?'
A\I?' "'Vl "* "?* '**^ **'*^- ^"* »* <lo«» not need an
Abolitionist to condemn what 1 saw this morning."
11 Are you a slave-owner, sir?" said Mr. Whipple.
X 6S9 SI r«
Mr.^Brice.^"' ^°" '""* ■""• '"'' *"* '•»™ ""^ ««<=••
Stephen's coat was on his arm. He slipped it on, and
IZ^ ^ «"• "* r^ " "■" t™* ''«" toldt'more
go: ZtTaoi^^l^^^^^^^ -■'o- ^ou haven't
Thl'-he^^gS^'aTlt^pl";"' '" " "»'' "' ''-P*'-""--
"Come back here, sir," he cried. "I'll give you a
hearing. No man shall say that I am not just> ^
Stephen looked gratefully at the Colonel.
" 1 did not expect one, sir," he said.
"^fi? ^""J ^J""^.^ deserve one, sir," cried the Judge.
"J think I do," replied Stephen, quietly. ^
1 he Judge suppressed something.
« J^?*V 2 ^"""i \7'^^ ii"'^ P«"°^ ^ " h« demanded.
Stephe^ '^' ^'*°''' boarding-house," said
u,),^.!,'^**' *^/ Colonel's turn to explode. The guffaw
^ 0^"°?.^!?^,^"?/^"^^ «^«'y «**»er sound. ^
1 u J*^ ^°^J ^'*^ t**« J"dge, helplessly. Asain he
looked at the Colonel and this^time someth^ing 3 like
,wl^ ? T'^'^.u^'i' It. ^'*°»«- *' And what do^ you
intend to do with her ? " he asked in strange tones. ^
10 give her freedom, sir, as soon as I can find some-
body to go on her bond."
Again silence. Mr. Whipple rubbed his nose with more
than customary violence, and looked very hard at Mr. Carvel,
whose face was inscrutable. It was a solemn moment.
nnJ' 2"*^«':,8^id the Judge, at length, "take off your
coat, sir. I will go her bond." ^
I n
I i
i
h 1
«* THE CRISIS
I* WM Stephen's turn to be taken aback. He stood re-
garding the Judge curiously, wondering what manner of
man he was. He did not know that this question had
puzzled many before him.
" Thank vou, sir," he said.
His hand was on the knob of the door, whei Mr.
His voice had lost
Mr.
Whipple called him back abruptly,
some of its gruffness.
'* What were your father's ideas about slavery,
Brioe ? "
The young man thought a moment, as if seeking to be
exact.
** I suppose he would have put slavery among the neces-
sary evils, sir," he said, at length. " But he never could bear
to have the Liberator mentioned in his presence. He was not
»t aU in sympathy with Phillips, or Parker, or Sumner.
And such was the general feeling among his friends."
" Then," said the Judge, " contrary to popular opinion
in the West and South, Boston is not all Abolition.'*^
Stephen smiled.
"The conservative classes are not at all Abolitionists,
sir."
"The conservative classes I" growled the Judge, "the
conservative classes! I am tired of hearing about the
conservative classes. Why not come out with it, sir, and
say the moneyed classes, who would rather see souls held
m bondage than risk their worldly goods in an attemot
to liberate them ? " ^
Stephen flushed. It was not at all clear to him then
how he was to get along with Judge Whipple. But he
kept his temper.
" I am sure that you do them an injustice, sir," he said,
with more feeling than he had yet shown. "I am not
speaking of the rich alone, and I think that if you knew
Boston you would not say that the conservative class
there is wholly composed of wealthy people. Many of
my father's friends were by no means wealthy. And I
know that if he had been poor he would have held the
same views."
SILAS WHIPPLE
55
Stephen did not mark the quick look of approval which
Colonel Carvel gave him. Judge Whipple merely rubbed
his nose.
" Well, air," he said, " what were his views, then ? "
" My father regarded slaves as property, sir. And con-
servative people^' (Stephen stuck to the word) "respect
propertv the world over. My father's argument was
this : If men are deprived bv vi 'ence of one kind of
property which they hold unde? .hj . »w, all other kinds
of oroperty will be endangerei. "ho rt „,[, will be an-
archy. Furthermore, he recov»iiiz,:a th a h economic
conditions in the South mak sJ v. v iccfss y t« pros-
perity. Andheregarded J! ■•ov.n;«m np.a.' ween the
states of the two sections as sainvK"
There was a brief silen - , durwi- v/.iu.i rhe uncompro-
mising expression of the oaiir- c ui j u hang^
" And do you, sir ? " he dtaiuml ;i.
"I am not sure, sir, after what f s vw' joHtt.day. I I
must have time to see more of it. '
" Good Lord," said Colonel Carvel, " if the conservative
people of the North act this way when they see a slave
sale, what will the Abolitionists do ? Whipple," he added
slowly, but with conviction, "this means war."
Then the Colonel got to his feet, and bowed to Stephen
with ceremony.
"Whatever you believe, sir," he said, "permit me to
shake your hand. You are a brave man, sir. And
although my own belief is that the black race is held in
subjection by a divine decree, I can admire what you have
done, Mr. Brice. It was a noble act, sir, — a right noble
act. And I have more respect for the people of Boston,
now, sir, than I ever had before, sir."
Having delivered himself of this somewhat dubious
compliment (which he meant well), the Colonel departed.
Judge Whipple said nothing.
' I ■■■■{
i! I'
CHAPTER VII
OALLBBS
.J' f^^^'ices had created an excitement npon their
arnval, it was as nothing to the mad delirium Jwk
raged at Miss Crane's boafding-housT during thT sTconl
afternoon of their stay. Twenty times was Miss Crane
on the Doint of requesting Mrs. Brice to le™, ^d twe^?v
times, fcy the advice of W Abner Reed shnesTsted^
The °J^°"nation came when the news leiked ou ttai
Mr. Stephen Bnce had bought the young woman in
order to give her Ireedom. like thow who haTdone
noble acts since the world began, Stephen that niriit™
both a hero and a fool. The creanj from which hfrcLTtS
made is verv apt to turn. ^® **
" Phew I ' cried S^'^phen, when they had reached their
E Sid' *"{^ "™"\ttat meal a Lrful ex^rienc^^J
L.et s find a hovel, mother, and so and live in if wl
can't stand it here any longir." ^®
T 'l?°x. ^ y°" P®"^** *° your career of reforming an
Institution, my «,n,'' answered the widow, sSg ^
hZliJ^ ^"^^^ ^^^ ^"*^^" «*id he, "that I should
^ve beer shouldered with that experience the first X
But I have tried to think it over calmly since, and I^n
aee nothing else to have done." He paused Sh^PacS^
"?t wi auTte'Ari!' 5'!;^S?"?» ^^ ^ ^rious^K
« The family has never been called impetuous," replied
his mother. " It must be the Western aiV^" ^
nna l^f *^^^ ^^'""^ "«^^"- ">« "^ther had not said
rs^^rfe^tr^^- ^eitherhadhe. Once^m^l.'
66
0ALLBB8 ^
80 much better if you would " "*°"^^ ^«®^
.ighf of the g^tifu™ of &^,'° "1" "'» *" "■<-
Oail never foreet the oH ^« ^' ""»'»«. Nuncy. I
daughter. nCde^^Z''^'J''X '» t^« »«ht o't her
kercWerdol ""' ""• »"»• ""'"y P""'-? the h«,d.
'"■•^':r i?:i:^-;!^<'^^« "'^ ™^ '"" "- "^^
NMj^jresMd into the room. " Mi.' Brice I »
''ns;i^» ^-«---^ '"'"-'■
""rt "r'r"" *° ^o datroh.''S^..'^PP^, ?"" '"«''
"You may unpack them, Nancy," she said
bJktntj^^a^M^ t.h^/H tm^-talce off her
Hester ? " she cried ^'*'* ^°" «^°°^n' dere,
" Hester is tired," said Mm ««•«« -
tears came to her eyes airai^atZ^^^
had both been through S day '*'""«^^' °^ ^^'^^ '^'y
"Tired," said Nancy, holding up her hands. "No'm,
i .
^jS^rj>-
S8
THE CRISIS
She des kinder stupefied by you' goodness,
she ain' tired.
Mis' Brice."
hirtd gfr "^^ ^""^^ ^^ ^^^ appearance of Miss Crane's
infi TWJ ^.^^'^^^^ Cluyme sniflfed a little as he was ushered
nto MiM Crane's best parlor, it was perhaps because of
the stuffy dampness of that room. M^ Cluyn.e wto one
of those persons the eflfusiveness of whose greetinrdo^s
not tally with the limpness of their grafp Sf wL
i?fnV of ^°i'. ^^ '">^^°^ **^«™' " » °»an who kindles a
wSskerJ^'^li"' V'"'":- The gentleman had red ch^p
whi-^h S"~^i?"^*°"5i^ ^""^ ^"« ^«"* «de foremost, -
which demanded a ruddy face. He welcomed Stephen
to St. Louis with neighborly effusion ; while his wife a
round little woman, bubbled over to Mrs. BrL '
'My dear sir," said Mr. Cliiyme, "I used often to go
to Boston in the forties. In fact - ahem - 1 may dai^
Bu^whl'T ^°^IS°^r\ ^^?' °«' ^ °«^«' met yourythT
But when I heard of the sad circumstances of his death,
JA-^ '^? ^^ ^^.* * P«"°°»^ ^"«°d. His probityrsir
and his religious principles were an honor to the Athens
ImTs^uJaTk''''''^ ^,™y ^"«'»*^' Mr. Atterbury!
— Mr. bamuel Atterburv, — eulogize him by the hour."
Steohen was surprised.
;; Why, yes," said he, «Mn Atterbury was a friend."
"Of course," said Mr. Cluyme, "I knew it Fnnr
years ago, the last business trip^ iade t^Ztin, l^^i
Atterbury on the street. Absence makes no differincTto
some men, sir, nor the West, for that matter. They n?ver
change. Atterbury nearly took me in his arms.^ 'My
dear fellow,' he cried 'how long are you t^ be in
you to dinner, says he, 'but step into the Tremont
House and haye a bite.'- Wasn't that like AtterbuT^''
Stephen thought it was. But Mr. Cluyme was evi-
dently expecting no answer. ' ^*
« Well, ' saidlie, " what I was going to say was that we
CALLEES ^
of the refinement, Stephen. I how I m»v f.^^ '' '""'*
StepheT^ ^ *'"'' *'■»' "y """'er will go out™ «.id
of m?ue oi. nT°},. u ^"^ '?' Americans ie a ZS
Kno^ Nothing B.Tii- "^^"^ J-'-'kly. "I don't mean a
^. My father waa not an Abolitionist, air," safdTtephen,
;; Quite right, quite right," aaid Mr. Clnyme.
" But I am not sure, since I have come he™ th.t i k.
not some sympathy and .^pect for the IboSioSul ""^
voio^^.t;is^rift> ' -i? ifsSl^Kr? "i'
atTouran"/ """ " "'O, -Ahtcou^n^s^li." tu
fne^rf teic»hTUTrm^2^Vrie'° i"
who are for gZ^.^^!^^^ '^^o^ -^J ^.
60
THE CRISIS
ll »
?i
it
not
land population here is small yet compared to the South-
erners. And they are very violent, sir."
Stephen could not resist saying, " Judge Whipple does
ot seem to have tempered himself, sir."
"Silas Whipple is a fanatic, sir," cried Mr. Cluyme.
" His hand is against every man's. He denounces Doug-
las on the slightest excuse, and would go to Washington
when Congress opens to fight with Stephens and Toombs
and Davis. But what good does it do him ? He might
h J been in the Senate, or on the Supreme Bench, had
hb not stirred up so much hatred. And yet I can't help
liking Whipple. Do you know him ? "
A resounding ring of the door-bell cut off Stephen's
reply, and Mrs. Cluyme's small talk to Mrs. Brice. In
the hall rumbled a familiar voice, and in stalked none
other than Judge Whipple himself. Without noticing
the other occupants of the parlor he strode up to Mrs.
Brice, looked at her for an instant from under the grizzled
brows, and held out his large hand.
"Pray, ma'am," he said, "what have you done with
your slave ? "
Mrs. Cluyme emitted a muffled shriek, like that of a
person frightened in a dream. Her husband grasped the
curved back of his chair. But Stephen smiled. And his
mother smiled a little, too.
"Are you Mr. Whipple?" she asked.
" I am, madam," was the reply.
" My slave is upstairs, I believe, unpacking my trunks,"
said Mrs. Brice.
Mr. and Mrs. Cluyme exchanged a glance of consterna-
tion. Then Mrs. Cluyme sat down again, rather heavily,
as though her legs had refused to hold her.
" Well, well, ma'am I " The Judge looked again at
Mrs. Brice, and a gleam of mirth lighted the severity of
his face. He was plainly pleased with her — this serene
lady in black, wh<»e voice had the sweet ring of women
who are well born and whose manner was so self-con-
tained. To speak truth, the Judge was prepared to dis-
like her. He had never laid eyes upon her, and as he
^f
CALLEB8
ef
walked hither from his house he seemed to foresee a help-
less little woman who, once he h*d called, would flina her
Boston pride to the winds and dump her woes upon him.
He looket; again, and decidedly approved of Mre. Brice
and was unaware that his glance embarrassed her.
Clu me?" ' ^^^ ^^^' "^" ^""^ ^'^^ ^*- *'*^ ^*
■ . '^!*lf ^ ^^^^^ ^^'"^ ^^"^ abruptly, nodded fero-
ciously at Mr. Cluyme and took the hand that fluttered
out to him from Mrs. Cluyme.
h/* ^TZ *^^ i" n^^. • " ^^«l»»™«i that lady, " I reckon we
do. And my Belle is so fond of him. She thinks there
IS no one equal to Mr. Whipple. Judge, you must come
round to a family supper. Belle will surpass herself."
UmphI said the Judge, "I think I like Edith best
of your girls, ma am."
"Edith is a good daughter, if I do say it myself," said
Mrs. Cluyme. " I have tried to do right by my children "
She was stUl greatly flustered, and curiosity about the
matter of the slave burned upon her face. Neither the
sr«k? nor Mrs. Brice were people one could catechise.
Stephen, scanning the Judge, was wondering how far he
regarded the matter as a joke.
S.^^^ll!^'^''?^^^?^'- Whipple, as he seated himself
vl i^r?^^' f""^ ?! ^^^ horeehair sofa, "I'll warrant when
you left Boston tliat you did not expect to own a slave
the day after you arrived in St. Louis/'
** But I do not own her," said Mrs. Brice. "It is mv
son who owns her." ^
This was too much for Mr. Cluyme.
" What ! "he cried to Stephen. " You own a slave '^
I ou, a mere boy, have bought a negress ? "
"And what is more, sir, I approve of it," the Judge put
offior'^*^ " *"" ^""'"^ ^"^ **^® *^^ ^""''^ °^*" "»to my
Mr. Cluyme gradually retired into the back of his
chair, looking at Mr. Whipple as though he expected
him to touch a match to the window curtains. But Mr
Oiuyme was elastic.
THE CRISIS
have no right^to deptv^r brrhVn' oTfherpro^l"'
of their very means of livelihood." property -
ihe Judge grinned diabolicallv. Mm rin^«,« «
yet too stunned to sneak n^w fel l ; ^^"7™^ was as
gunppwderTn ?he ^r^' ^'^^ ®^P^"" « '""^^^^ »«iffed
relic ofbat ri.r^„T h"? J° *'?'y ."y abhorrence of .
" W.II .i, { ?^? '*''* °' »■"'<"> »nd peace."
nin/fcb'bTtrr^J^rtfn w" '"'«'-?« '«•"•
a fcny lineer^ Mr f^^*^ « "'**' *»* pointed
grovelfed^ uj fcS"'^, ^"""^ » ""^i^J l>»d
And the Unio, ^-iU nevT£ a^e'u^'l^ '" "^^ "»''"'•
of modern timt ,» wiwd on? ^hi^ 'hj.greatest crime
ir'oor Mrs. Cluyme gasped
app^-^otMr-^J^ic^rownX- "^"""^ ^O" »»
r««^ • J"-?^®'* approved of any other. Good niirhfc «v
Orood night, madam " Rnf f« Ir. o • r "igT"*, sir.
and tool hir hand It h2^ '^ '!['^ ^,* ^^""«* o^«'
bowed. ThTs is not ceLt' ^'^ '"''''' ^^*^°^^^ ^^* ^«
" Good night, madam," he said " I shall naii ^•
pay my respecte when y'ou are noi occu^^""^^ *«^ *^
CHAPTER Vin
BELLBOABDB
young mi,tre» Ie»pedl„to vf«n^ Jddle fj''"* ."l"
darkey to follow uoon hlinlr n.nr ""T*'- i«avmg the
the s^eet, greaVy^o" tl^'ad^iSLr^t rhrn'f.hto'^^
They threw oDen their windows to wave at her Z.v"'
gmia pressed W lips and stared straight ahead ' ^L "'
going out to see the Russell girls at th«irf„!f. ^^ "^^^
Place on Bellefontaine Cdf esp^ciallv tl nr^'l '"'""^^
detestation for a certain voungXniee umtX «V"* t^i
••He?e\fcVars^ltf™r/ewbr?l"'"v''"'-"-
•tay aU day and to-night " Ori«">». Yoa muet
to MirR'us!X'"^m liTr;:^:' 't™'""^ '"-p^'-tiy
at finding tie straneer ° I^ni", ' "" disappointed
am going^o haveTChday ZJ iH" W*" T ""t' '
murt be sure to oome, «.d b^S^7o«?l« tr-'''"'- ^""
" You're not going ? " she said.
68
64
THE CRISIS
\
" To Bellegarde for dinner," answered Virginia.
" But it's only ten o'clock," said Puas. " And, Jinny ? **
" There's a new young man in town, and they do say
his appearance is very striking — not exactly handsome,
you know, but strong looking.
" He's horrid I " said Virmnia. " He's a Yankee."
" How do you know ? " demanded Puss and Emily in
chorus. "^
" And he's no gentleman," said Virginia.
** But how do you know, Jinny ? "
" He's an upstart."
" Oh. But he belongs to a very good Boston family,
they say." "^
" There are no good Boston families," replied Virginia,
with conviction, as $he separated her reins. "He has
proved that. Who ever heard of a good Yankee family ? "
"What has he done to you, Virginia?" asked Puss,
who had brains.
Virginia glanced at the guest. But her grievance was
too hot within her for suppression.
"Do you remember Mr. Benbow's Hester, girls? The
one I always said I wanted. She was sold at auction
yesterday. Pa and I were passing the Court House, with
Clarence, when she was put up for sale. We crossed the
street to see what was going on, and there was your
strong-looking Yankee standing at the edge of the
crowd. I am quite sure that he saw me as plainly as I
see you, Puss Russell."
" How could he help it ? " said Puss, slyly.
Virginia took no notice of the remark.
" He heard me ask Pa to buy her. He heard Clarence
say that he would bid her in for me. I know he did.
And yet he goes in and outbids Clarence, and buys her
himself. Do you think any gentleman would do that.
Puss Russell ? "
" He bought her himself ! " cried the astonished Miss
Russell. "Why, I thought that all Bostoniaus were
Abolitionists."
I
BELLEOABDE ^
o«r]P'u ?%"*ii? ''T'" «^^ ^« Carvel, oontemptu-
^^^•1. ;.''"??! W*"PPl«™t on her bond tUav."
Afiaa Ruwell was likewise courageous-"! don't see
why not. You have Judge Whipple every SunX ^
dinner, and he's an Abolitionist." ^ ^
Virginia drew herself up.
dign1?y5* ^^^^^^ ^" °®''" '°"^*^ °**'" "^^ «^^ ^ith
Puss gave way to laughter. Whereupon, despite her
protests and prayers for forgiveness, Vir^a t^t to heJ
wfS *^*/,? and gaUoped ol. They saw her turn north-
ward on the Belief ontaine Road.
Presently the woodland hid from her sight the noble
nver shimng far below, and Virginia fulled VbTen
between the ^teposts which markecf the eStrance toher
fn^. ?K*'S \4?8rarde. Half a mile through throoOl
forwt, the black dirt of the driveway flying f rom Vix^s
hoo s^and there w^ the Colfax ho,ie on tie e^^e of the
gentle slope ; and beyond it the orchard, and the blue
grapes withenng on the vines, -and beyond that fleld^
boat hung in wisps abo^ ater. A young nejrro was
busily washing the broao nda, but he stoS Tn"
straightened at siflrht of the young horsewoman?^^
bambo, where's your mistress ? "
while^^a" ^"""^"^ ^'"^ "^^^^^^ •** ""^ ^««^ l«««e
said^Nlf '^^ atter Miss Lilly, yo' good-fo'-nuthin' niggah,"
3tan theh wif yo' mouf open ^ "
himTa^k.''^ "^^'"^ '^' *"'"*' ""^^^ ^^ ^»'»i°»* «^^
" Where's Mr. Clarence ? "
« Young Masr ? I'll fotch him, Miss Jinny. He ^
i-C
THE CRISIS
ail
H
come home f mn aeein* that thar trottin' hoM he's gwine
to race nex* week."
Ned, who had tied Calhoun and was holdine his mis-
tress's bridle, sniffed. He had been Colonel Carvel's
jockey in his vounger days.
** Shucks I * he said contemptuously. " I hoped to die
befo' the day a gemman'd own er trottah. Jinny. On'y
runnin' bosses is fit fo' ffemmen."
**Ned," said Virginia, **I shall be eighteen in two
weeks and a young lady. On that day you must call me
♦MissJinny.'^"
Ned's face showed both astonishment and inouiry.
** Jinny, ain't I nussed you always ? Ain't I come up-
stairs to quiet you when yo' mammy ain't had no power
ovah yo'? Ain't I cooked fo' ^o', and ain't I followed
you every wheres sino^ I quit ridin' yo' pa's bosses to vic-
t'nr ? Ain't I one of de f ambly ? An' yit yo' ax me to
call yo* Miss Jinny ? "
"Then you've had privileges enough," Virginia an-
swered. "One week irom to-morrow you are to say
*Miss Jinny.'"
** I'se tell you what. Jinny," he answered mischievously,
with an emphasis on the word, '^I'se call vou Miss
Jinny ef you 11 call me MUtah Johnton. JtRttak Johruon.
You aint gwinter forget ? MUtah Johmon."
** I'll remember," she said. ** Ned," she demanded sud-
denly, '* would you like to be free ? "
Tne negro started.
"Why you ax me dat. Jinny?"
" Mr. Benbow's Hester is free," she said.
" Who done freed her ? "
Miss Virginia flushed. ** A detestable young Yankee,
who has come out hain :o meddle with what doesn't con-
cern him. I wanted, f ? vaster, Ned. And you should have
married her, if you behaved yourself."
Ned laughed uneasily.
"I reckon I'se too oJ' fo' Heste'." And added with
privileged impudence, ** There ain't no cause why I can't
marry her now."
BELLEOARDB ff
VirginiA suddenly leaped to the ground without hiH
anutanoe.
"That's enough, Ned," she said, and started toward the
nouse.
" £r°?7 ' ^** •^•'^y •' " The call was pUintive.
"Well, what?" F"""wvo.
"Miss Jinnv, I seed that thar young gemman. Lan'
sakes, he am' look like er Yankee— -"
"Ned," said Virginia, sternly, "do you want to go
back to cooking ? "
He quailed. " Oh, no'm. Lan' sakes, no'm. I didn't
mean nuthin ."
She turned, frowned, and bit her lip. Around the cor-
ner of the veranda she ran into her cousin. He, too, was
booted and spurred. He reached out, boyishly, to catch
her in his arms. But she drew back from his grasp.
" Why, Jinny," he cried, " what's the matter ? "
"Nothing, Max." She often called him so, his middle
name being Maxwell. "But you have no right to do
tnat.
"To do what?" said Clarence, making a face.
A " : ^"„. °f.'." ""wered Virginia, curtly. " Where's
Aunt Lillian ?
. "Why haven't I the right?" he asked, ignoring the
inquiry. ® *
" Because you have not, unless I choose. And I don't
tt"^'®^^**^ ^"fif'y ^^*^ ™® **ill^ I* wasn't my fault.
Uncle Comyn made me come away. You should have
had the girl. Jinny, if it took my fortune."
"You have been drinking this morning, Max," said
Virginia.
"Only a julep or so," he replied apologetically. "I
rode oyer to the race track to see the new trotter. I've
called him Halcyon, Jinny," he continued, with enthusi-
asm. « And he'll win the handicap sure."
She sat down on the veranda steps, with her knees
crossed and her chin resting on her hands. The air was
Heavy with the perfume of the grapes and the smell of
S^i
1
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laS&jn -^-a^ ■r-.T-^-T-mj— Hmri,. -ji
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(ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2)
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68
THE CRISIS
late flowers from the sunken garden near by. A blue
haze hung over the Illinois shore.
"Max, you promised me you wouldn't drink so much."
" And I haven't been, Jinny, 'pon ray word," he replied.
" But I met old Sparks at the Tavern, and he started to
talk about the horses, and -^ and he insisted."
" And you hadn't the strength of character," she said,
scornfully, "to refuse."
" Pshaw, Jinny, a gentleman must be a gentleman. I'm
no Yankee."
For a space Virginia answered nothing. Then she said,
without changing her position : —
" If you were, you might be worth something."
" Virginia ! "
She did not reply, but sat gazing toward the water. He
began to pace the veranda, fiercely.
" Look here, Jinny," he cried, pausing in front of her.
" There are some things you can't say to me, even in jest."
Virginia rose, flicked her riding- whip, and started down
the steps.
" Don't be a fool, Max," she said.
He followed her, bewildered. She skirted the garden,
passed the orchard, and finally reached a summer house
perched on a knoll at the edge of the wood. Then she
seated herself on a bench, silently. He took a place on
the opposite side, with his feet stretched out, dejectedly.
" I m tired trying to please you," he said. " I have
been a fool. You don't care that for me. It was all
right when I was younger, when there was no one else to
take you riding, and jump off the barn for your amuse-
ment. Miss. Now you have Tom Catherwood and Jack
Brinsmade and the Russell boys running after you, it's
different. I reckon I'll go to Kansas. There are Yankees
to shoot in Kansas."
He did not see her smile as he sat staring at his
feet.
" Max," said she, all at once, " why don't you settle
down to something ? Why don't you work ? "
Young Mr. Colfax's arm swept around in a circle.
%
W^W:'^
* BELLEGARDE
69
" There are twelve hundred acres to look after here, and
a few niggers. That's enough for a gentleman."
" Pooh I " exclaimed his cousin, " this isn't a cotton
plantation. Aunt Lillian doesn't farm for money. If
she did, you would have to check your extravagances
mighty quick, sir."
" I look after Pompey's reports, I do as much work as
my ancestors," answered Clarence, hotly.
" Ah, that is the trouble," said Virginia.
" What do you mean ? " her cousin demanded.
" We have been gentlemen too long," said Virginia.
The boy straightened up and rose. The pride and
wilfulness of generations was indeed in his handsome face.
And something else went with it. Around the mouth a
grave tinge of indulgence.
"What has your life been?" she went on, speaking
rapidly. "A mixture of gamecocks and ponies and race
horses and billiards, and idleness at the Virginia Springs,
and fighting with other boys. What do you know?
You wouldn't go to college. You wouldn't study law.
You can't write a decent letter. You don't know any-
thing about the history of your country. What can
you do — ? "
"I can ride and fight," he said. « I can go to New
Orleans to-morrow to join Walker's Nicaragua expedition.
Weve got to beat the Yankees,— they'll have Kansas
away from us before we know it."
Virginia's eye flashed appreciation.
"Do you remember. Jinny, ' he cried, "one day long
ago when those Dutch hoodlums were teasing you and
Anne on the road, and Bert Russell and Jack and I came
along? We whipped 'em, Jinny. And my eye was
closed. And you were bathing it here, and one of my
buttons was gone. And you counted the rest."
"Rich man, poor man, beggarman, thief, — doctor,
lawyer, merchant, chief;' she recited, laughing. She crossed
over and sat beside him, and her tone changed. " Max,
can't you understand ? It isn't that. Max, if you would
only work at something. That is why the Yankees beat
i \l
wr
70
THE CRISIS
I
ii
I "'
us. If you would learn to weld iron, or to build bridges,
or railroads. Or if you would learn business, and go to
work in Pa's store."
" You do not care for me as I am ? "
" I knew that you did not understand," she answered
passionately. " It is because I care for you that I wisli
to make you great. You care too much for a good time,
for horses, Max. You love the South, but you think too
little how she is to be saved. If war is to come, we shall
want men like that Captain Robert Lee who was here.
A man who can turn the forces of the earth to his own
purposes."
For a moment Clarence was moodily silent.
" I have always intended to go into politics, after Pa's
example," he said at length.
" Then — " began Virginia, and paused.
"Then — ?" he said.
"Then — you must study law."
He gave her the one keen look. And she met it, with
her lips tightly pressed together. Then he smiled.
"Virginia, you will never forgive that Yankee, Brice."
"I shall never forgive any Yankee," she retorted
quickly. "But we are not talking about him. I am
thinking of the South, and of you."
He stooped toward her face, but she avoided him and
went back to the bench.
« Why not ? " he said.
" You must prove first that you are a man," she said.
For years he remembered the scene. The vineyard,
the yellow stubble, and the river rushing on and on with
tranquil power, and the slow panting of the steamboat.
A doe ran out of the forest, and paused, her head raised,
not twenty feet away.
"And then you will marry me. Jinny?" he asked
finally.
" Before you may hope to control another, we shall see
whether you can control yourself, sir."
"But it has all been arranged," he exclaimed, "since
we played here together years ago 1 "
BELLEGARDE
71
" No one shall arrange that for me," replied Virginia,
promptly. "And I should think that you would wish
to have some of the credit for yourself."
« Jinny I "
Again she avoided him by leaping the low railing.
The doe fled into the forest, whistling fearfully. Vir-
ginia waved her hand to him and started toward the
house. At the corner of the porch she ran into her aunt.
Mrs. Colfax was a beautiful woman. Beautiful when
Addison Colfax married her in Kentucky at nineteen, beau-
tiful still at three and forty. This, I am aware, is a bald
statement. "Prove it," you say. "We do not believe
it. It was told you by some old beau who lives upon
the memory of the past."
Ladies, a score of different daguerrotypes of Lillian
Colfax are in existence. And whatever may be said of
portraits, daguerrotypes do not flatter. All the town
admitted that she was beautiful. All the town knew that
she was the daughter of old Judge Colfax's overseer at
Halcyondale. If she had not been beautiful, Addison Col-
fax would not have run away with her. That is certain.
He left her a rich widow at five and twenty, mistress of
the country place he had bought on the Bellefontaine
Road, near St. Louis. And when Mrs. Colfax was not
dancing off to the Virginia watering-places, Bellegarde
was a gay house.
" Jinny," exclaimed her aunt, " how you scared me I
What on earth is the matter ? "
"Nothing," said Virginia —
" She refused to kiss me," put in Clarence, half in play,
half in resentment.
Mrs. Colfax laughed musically. She put one of her
white hands on each of her niece's cheeks, kissed her, and
then gazed into her face until Virginia reddened.
"Law, Jinny, you're quite pretty," said her aunt.
"I hadn't realized it — but you must take care of your
complexion. You're horribly sunburned, and you let
your hair blow all over your face. It's barbarous not to
wear a mask when vou ride. Your Pa doesn't look after
72
THE CRISIS
you properly. I would ask you to stay to the dance
to-night if your skin were only white, instead of red.
You're old enough to know better, Virginia. Mr. Vance
was to have driven out for dinner. Have you seen him.
Clarence?" ^
"No, mother."
" He is so amusing," Mrs. Colfax continued, '♦ and he
generally brings candy. I shall die of the blues before
supper." She sat down with a grand air at the head of
the table, while Alfred took the lid from the silver soup-
tureen in front of her. "Jinny, can't you say some-
thing bright ? Do I have to listen to Clarence's horse
talk for another hour ? Tell me some gossip. Will you
have some gumbo soup ? "
" Why do you listen to Clarence's horse talk ? " said
Virginia. " Why don'jb you make him go to work ? "
" Mercy I " said Mrs. Colfax, laughing, « what could he
do?"
" That's just it," said Virginia. " He hasn't a serious
interest in life."
Clarence looked sullen. And his mother, as usual, took
his side.
" What put that into your head. Jinny," she said. " He
has the place here to look after, a very gentlemanly occu-
pation. That's what they do in Virginia."
" Yes," said Virginia, scornfully, " we're all gentlemen
in the South. What do we know about business and
developing the resources of the country ? Not that."
"You make my head ache, my dear," was her aunt's
reply. « Where did you get all this ? "
"You ask me because I am a girl," said Virginia.
" You believe that women were made to look at, and to
play with, — not to think. But if we are going to get
ahead of the Yankees, we shall have to think. It was all
very well to be a gentleman in the days of my great-grand-
father. But now we have railroads and steamboats. And
who builds them? The Yankees. We of the South
think of our ancestors, and drift deeper and deeper into
debt. We know how to fight, and we know how to com-
BELLEGARDE
78
mand. But we have been ruined bv " ^oro »!,« ~i j
How mean of Mr. Vance not to come I YouVe bfertalk
l^^^u%^^''^''^''''• ^* i^'^'^^ fashionable. I suppoJe
you wish Clarence to go into a factory." s^PPose
"If I were a man,'^ said Virginia; "and goinff into a
factory would teach me how to make a locomotfve or a
cotton press, or to build a bridge, I should go in to a fac!
t£7mon^t?eL'lnTrrun'd^^'' ''' ^"^'^^« ""^'^ ^ --*
I i
CHAPTER IX
A QUIET SUNDAY IN LOCUST STREET
If the truth were known where Virginia got the opin-
ions which she expressed so freely to her aunt and cousin,
it was from Colorel Carvel himself. The Colonel would
rather have denounced the Dred Scott decision than ad-
mit to Judge Whipple that one of the greatest weaknesses
of the South lay in her lack of mechanical and manufac-
turing ability. But he had confessed as much in private
to Captain Elijah Brent The Colonel would often sit
for an hour or more, after supper, with his feet tucked up
on the mantel and his hat on the back of his head, buried
in thought. Then he would saunter slowly down to the
Planters' House bar, which served the purposes of a club
in those days, in search of an argument with other promi-
nent citizens. The Colonel had his own particular chair
in his own particular corner, which was always vacated
when he came in at the door. And then he always had
three fingers of the best Bourbon whiskey, no more and
no less, every evening.
He never met his bosom friend and pet antagonist at
the Planters' House bar. Judge Whipple, indeed, took his
meals upstairs, but he never descended, — it was generally
supposed because of the strong slavery atmosphere there.
However, the Judge went periodically to his friend's
tor a quiet Sunday dinner (so called in derision by St.
Louisans), on which occasions Virginia sat at the end of
the table and endeavored to pour water on the flames when
they flared up too fiercely.
The Sunday following her ride to Bellegarde was the
Judge's Sunday. Certain tastes which she had inherited
had hitherto provided her with pleasurable sensations
74
A QUIET SUNDAY IN LOCUST STREET 75
while these battles were in progress. More than once
had she scored a fair hit on the Judge for her father, — to
the mutual delight of both gentlemen. But to-day she
dreaded being present at the argument. Just why she
dreaded it is a matter of feminine psychology best left to
the reader for solution.
The argument began, as usual, with the tearing apart
limb by hmb of the unfortunate Franklin Pierce, bv
Judge Whipple. ^
"What a miserable exhibition in the eyes of the world,"
said the Judge. " Franklin Pierce of New Hampshire "
(he pronounced this name with in jnite scorn) " managed
by Jefferson Davis of Mississippi I "
" And he was well managed, sir," said the Colonel.
"What a pliant tool of your Southern slaveholders!
I hear that you are to give him a plantation as a re-
ward.
"No such thing, sir."
" He deserves it,'" continued the Judge, with convic-
tion. " See the magnificent forts he permitted Davis to
bmld up in the South, the arsenals he let him stock.
The country does not realize this. But the day will
come when they will execrate Pierce before Benedict
Arnold, sir. And look at the infamous Kansas-Nebraska
act I That is the greatest crime, and Douglas and Pierce
the greatest criminals, of the century."
"Do have some more of that fried chicken. Judge,"
said Virginia.
Mr. Whipple helped himself fiercely, and the Colonel
smiled.
"You should be satisfied now," said he. "Another
Northern man is in the White House."
"Buchanan! " roared the Judge, with his mouth full.
"Another traitor, sir. Another traitor worse than the
first. He swallows the Dred Scott decision, and smirks.
What a blot on the history of this Republic ! O Lord ! "
cried Mr. Whipple, " what are we coming to ? A North-
ern man, he could gag and bind Kansas and force her
into slavery against the will of her citizens. He packs
I
76
THE CRISIS
!! i
'•'f
his Cabinet to support the ruffir as you send over the
borders. The very governors he ships out there, his
henchmen, have their stomachs turned. Look at Walker,
whom they are plotting against in Washington. He
can't stand the smell of this Lecompton Constitution
Buchanan is trying to jam down their throats. Jeffer-
son Davis would have troops there, to be sure that it goes
through, if ha had his way. Can't you see how one sin
leads to another, Carvel ? How slavery is rapidly de-
moralizing a free people ? "
" It is because you won't let it alone where it belongs,
sir," retorted the Colonel. It was seldom that he showed
any heat in his replies. He talked slowly, and he had a
way of stretching forth his hand to prevent the more
eager Judge from interrupting him.
"The welfare of the whole South, as matters now
stand, sir, depends upon slavery. Our plantations could
not exist a day without slave labor. If you abolished
that institution, Judge Whipple, you would ruin millions
of your fellow-countrymen, — jou ,ould reduce sovereign
states to a situation of disgraceful dependence. And all,
sir," now he raised his voice lest the Judge break in, " all,
sir, for the sake of a low breed that ain't fit for freedom.
You and I, who have tue Magna Charta and the Declara-
tion of Independence behind us, who are descended from
a race that has done nothing but rule for ten centuries
and more, may well establish a Republic where the basis
of stability is the self-control of the individual — as long
as men such as you and I form its citizens. Look at the
South Americans. How do Republics go there ? And
the minute you and I let in niggers, who haven't any
more self-control than dogs, on an equal basis, with aa
much of a vote as you have, — niggers, sir, that have
lived like wild beasts in the depths of the jungle since the
days of Ham, — what's going to become of our Republic ? "
" Education," cried the Judge.
But the word was snatched out of his mouth.
" Education isn't a matter of one generation. No, sir,
nor two, nor three, nor four. But of centuries."
A QUIET SUNDAY IN LOCUST STREET 77
"Sir," said the Judge, "I can point out negroes of
intelligence and learning." 6 "^ «i
"And I reckon you could teach some monkeys to talk
*-ngli8h, and recite the catechism, and sing emotional
hymns, if you brought over a couple of million from
Africa, answered the Colonel, dryly, as he rose to put on
nis hat and light a cigar.
It was his custom to offer a cigar to the Judge, who
invariably refused, and rubbed his nose with scornful
violence.
Virginia, on the verge of leaving, stayed on, fascinated
by the turn the argument had taken.
!!5^''"'..?[^j"^''',^ '^ hide-bound, sir," said Mr. Whipple.
"No, Whipple," said the Colonel, " when God waskd
off this wicked earth, and started new. He saw fit to put
the sons of Ham in subjection. They're slaves of each
other m Africa, and I reckon they're treated no better
than they are here. Abuses can't be helped in any system,
sir, though we are bettering them. Were the poor in
London in the days of the Edwards as well off as our
niggers are to-day ? "
The Judge snorted.
"A divine institution I " he shouted. " A black curse '
Because the world has been a wicked place of oppression
since Noah s day, is that any reason why it should so con-
tinue until the day of Judgment ? "
The Colonel smiled, which was a sign that he was
pleased with his argument.
"Now, see here, Whipple," said he. "If we had any
guarantee that you would let us alone where we are, to
manage our slaves and to cultivate our plantations, there
wouldn t be any trouble. But the country keeps on grow-
ing and growing, and you're not content with half. You
want everything, — all the new states must abolish slavery.
And after a while you will overwhelm us, and ruin us,
and make us paupers. Do you wonder that we contend
for our rights, tooth and nail ? They are our rights."
" If It had not been for Virginia and Maryland and the
oouth, this nation would not be in existence."
n
78
THE CRISIS
The Colonel laughed.
** First rate, Jinny," he cried. " That's so."
But the Judgtj was in a revery. He probably had not
heard her.
"The nation is going to the dogs," he said, mumbling
rather to himself than to the others. "We shall never
frosper until the curse is shaken off, or wiped out in blood,
t clogs our progress. Our merchant marine, of which
we were so proud, has been annihilated by these continued
disturbar.es. But, sir," he cried, hammering his fist
upon the table until the glasses rang, " the party that is
to save us was born at Pittsburgh last year on Washing-
ton's birthday. The Republican Party, sir."
"Shucks I " exclaimed Mr. Carvel, with amusement.
" The Black Republican Party, made up of old fools and
young Anarchists, of Dutchmen and nigger-worshippers.
Why, Whipple, that party's a ioke. Where's your leader ? "
" In Illinois," was the quick response.
"What's his name?"
''Abraham Lincoln^ sir," thundered Mr. Whipple.
"And to my way of thinking he hae uttered a more sig-
nificant phrase on the situation than any of your Wash-
ington statesmen. « Thu government,' said he to a friend
of mine, ' cannot exi»t ha\f slave and halffree.' "
So impressively did Mr. Whipple pronounce these
words that Mr. Carvel stirred uneasily, and in spite of
himself, as though he were listening to an oracie. He
recovered instantly.
" He's a demagogue, seeking for striking phrases, sir.
You re too intelligent a man to be taken in by such tis he."
" I tell you h^ is not, sir."
" I know hiiu, sir," cried the Colonel, taking down his
feet. " He's an obscure lawyer. Poor white trash !
Torn down poor I My friend Mr. Richardson of Spring-
field tells me he is low down. He was born in a log cabin,
and spends most of his time in a drug-store telling stories
that you would not listen to. Judge Whipple."
" I would listen to anvthing he said," replied the Judge.
"Poor white trash, sir I The greatest men rise from the
A QUIET SUNDAY IN LOCUST STREET 79
my words, the day will roll i .^*"* ^^^^ ^^^ mark
lotted forViceSsM 'n r^he Ph!LT^"V "^ "'^ b^^"
lastyear. Nobody paid am nttenHnnJlP^'* convention
vention haa heard hTm sniak a? Ml ^"^ ^^^*- ^^ *''« ««»-
have been nominatedTnsteid «f \v' """"l^S^^??' ^'^ ^«»Id
could have heard him hrwn l^h ^ '^"^P?*- If the nation
of that miserable Cchanrn T wr'^^.' 'T'^^y ''''''^'^
ington. And while the linf^ .V t^^?^? *° ^*^ ^^ '^loom-
ling, the peopb kept call nlf^V-P^^^/°"" ^«^« <i"vel-
heard of ^him^ thef I Ve fever IZ'nh - ^ ^^ °«^-
came ambling out of the back of the h^aH tZ t "''' ,"«
looking man, ridiculously ugly sir X;*i*"J^3^'irawky.
opened his mouth he had ulspenbound ^^ "^^ '"' ^^
which your low-down lawyer us^ed was ttf Jf ^"f "'«^"
prophet, sir. He had those II Hnlf ,*.°^ '" ^o^-sent
up, -the women crW and "Z nf ^P^'"' "" ^°^^^«^
mad I Good Lord, Ihey were ^d^w ""'•,', *°°- ^"^
Southern disunionists,' hrcried "wT m!" '*^ *° *^«
Southern disunionists wa wnnv""^® "^'^^ ^^3^ to the
«nrfyouManV."' ' ^ won t go out of the Union,
e Jy MrTarvlfc,^^^^^^^^^^ But pres-
Judge in his favorUe attit^dP 4"^ he stood over the
he lighted another cigar "'"■ ""''^ ^'' ^^'' ^P^^-*' - as
me into that belief^ ""VSteoit^h-^^M^^"'"^^ ^'^'^^
cent. No sirree f It'^ f hJo °^ h''' ''^^"^^er worth a
from Boston and buys a „i^""Tfr!l° l°™^« «"* here
got in the world. Andlf hS • ^" ^^e money he's
I'm no judge of men " ' ' '^^ impetuous young fori,
Mr! wt;pi:.^1^^7rlS"'l^J W^ — ked
the wordlfad stifred a memory ' '''''' ^^"^^^^' ^ ^^ough
Bee';(s^;SVe\^rd"oV^^^^^^^^ "It
Yankee. I reckon there. "l^t ro:srsfmVJhKt
u i
iif
^0
im
im
i-f".
I ii #'
80 THE CRISIS
Brice acted the man all the way through. He got a fall
out of you, Silas, in your room, after the show. Wher^ are
you going, Jinny ? ^
Virginia had risen, and she was standing very erect,
with a flush on her face, waiting for her father to finish.
" To see Anne Brinsmade," she said. " Good-by, Uncle
Silas."
She had called him so from childhood. Hers was the
one voice that seemed to soften him — it never failed. He
turned to her now with a movement that was almost gen-
tle, "Virginia, I should like you to know my young
Yankee," said he.
"Thank you, Uncle Silas," said the girl, with dignity,
" but I scarcely think that he would care to know me. He
feels so strongly."
" He feels no stronger than I do," replied the Judge.
" You have gotten used to me in eighteen years, and
besides," she flashed, " you never spent all the money you
had in the world for a principle."
Mr. Whipple smiled as she wunt out of the door.
" I have spent pretty near all," he said. But more to
himself than to the Colonel.
That evening, some young people came in to tea, two
of the four big Catherwood boys, Anne Brinsmade and
her brother Jack, Puss Russell and Bert, and Eugenie
Renault. But Virginia lost her temper. In an evil
moment Puss Russell started the subject of the young
Yankee who had deprived her of Hester. Puss was
ably seconded by Jack Brinsmade, whose reputation as tt
tormentor extended far back into his boyhood. In vain
did Anne, the peacemaker, try to quench him, while the
big Catherwoods and Bert Russell laughed incessantly.
No wonder that Virginia was angry. She would not
speak to Puss as that young lady bade her good night.
And the Colonel, coming home from an evening with Mr.
Brinsmade, found his daughter in an armchair, staring
irto the sitting-room fire. There was no other light in
the room. Her chin was in her hand, and her lips were
pursed.
WW
A QUIET SUNDAY IN LOCUST STREET 81
now""'^^** • " ^'^ *^« ^^^l^'^^^ " ^Iiat's the trouble
"Nothing," said Virginia,
my^rr-" ^^ ^"'^'*«^' "'^^^^ h*^® they been doing to
" Pa I "
" Yes, honey."
"I don't want to go to balls all my life. I want to eo
to boarding-school, and learn something. EmilyTs ^oiS
to Monticello after Christmas. Pa, wifl you let^me f " ^
Mr. Carvel winced. He put an arm around her. He
" And what shall I do ? "he said, trying to smile.
, "It will only be for a little while. And Monticello
isn't very far. Pa." luonuceiio
" Well, well, there is plenty of time to think it over
be ween now and Januaiy," he said. « And now I have
a little favor to ask of you, honev "
" Yes ?" she said. ^
The Colonel took the other armchair, stretched his feet
toward the blaze, and stroked his goatee. Hr glanced
Jhroat.^ daughter's profile. Iwice he cLafed^s
"Jinny?"
« Yes, Pa " (without turning her head).
; Jinny, I was going to speak of this young Brice.
- anS fnKim "'' ""^ '' '°"'' °^ ' ^'"^ family,Tnd
Virginia.^''" ""'"^ ""^ ^ ''''''^ ^"'^ ^ "^ P*'*^'" ^^^^ed
The Colonel started. " I reckon you guessed it," he said.
o„o'l!'Th''erhra:fd™-"™"'"'- '•"' ^-^ "<" «— *
The Colonel blundered.
I !i^*'!?'. ^i^if^ni*'" he said, «I thought you told the
Judge this afternoon that it was done out of principle "
I' .
1 i : i
r
■
1"'
Mm
'
82
THE CRISIS
Virginia ignored this. But she bit her lip.
** He is like all Yankees, without one bit of considera-
tion for a woman. He knew I wanted Hester."
" What makes you imagine that he thought of you at
all, my dear ? *' asked her father, mildly. '^ He does not
know you."
This time the Colonel scored certainly. The firelight
saved Virginia.
" He overheard our conversation," she answered.
" I reckon that he wasn't worrying much about us. And
besides, he was trying to save Hester from Jennings."
" I thought that you said that it was to be my party.
Pa," said Virginia, irrelevantly.
The Colonel looked thoughtful, then he began to
laugh. )
" Haven't we enough Black Republican friends ? " she
asked.
" So you won't have him ? " said the Colonel.
" I didn't say that I wouldn't have him," she answered.
The Colonel rose, and brushed the ashes from his
coat.
" By Gum I " he said. " Women beat me."
II
1
CHAPTER X
THE LITTLE HOUSE
When Stephen attempted to thank Judge Whinole for
going on Hester's bond, he merely said, "fut,-tuj "
ulhL^^^u 'T/* '^^' \° ^'^ °»*^ Shadrach tild Stephen
He had his breakfast at the Planters' House at seven reTci
the Mssaun Democrat, and returned by eight. Sometimes
part of the day, an^he" td ma^ny'^S. "^etasVvTy*
busy man. Like a great specialist (which he was^ he
would see only one person at a time. ^ And Stephen soon
di«3overed that his employer did not discriminate between
age or sex, or importance, or condition of servitude In
short, Stephen's opinion of Judge Whipole aWpH^
materially before the end of that first wefE H«a! ""^"^
aTeTof^lh'S^"^^^*^'"^^ ^^^^^^^^^ P^-trr^m'
anead of rich citizens, who seemed content to wait th«ir
maTnoffio^ TK^ ^""^^" ^^*^™ ''^^'^ tL wrof^the
main office. There was one incident in particular whpn
a well-dressed gentleman of middle age paS impalirn^^^^
for two mortal hours after Shadrach^ had tekenCca^
mXt 'T''^"'-. ^S^" ^' ^^' ^« ^^^ been admitted M^
Richter whispered to Stephen his name. It was that otL
fellows te ^f «"<J«^'" the Judge was heard to say, "you
?ou had to Rnt'^'v! ^"^ ^''" ^"^"^^^'^ ^«^« here unfess
you naa to. But when your road cets in n *;«Kf «i
you turn up and expent to walkt ?hlVd\V4f „&'*
mr. Caiiender made some inaudible reply.
i'
iM
84
THE CRISIS
ftp
"Money I" roared the Judge, "take your money to
Stetson, and see if you win your case."
Mr. Richter smiled at Stephen, as if in sheer happiness
at this vindication of an employer who had never seemed
to him to need a defence.
Stephen was greatly drawn toward this young German
with the great scar on his pleasant face. And he was itch-
ing to know about that scar. Every day, after coming in
from dinner, Richter lighted a great brown meerschaum,
and read the St. Louis Ameiger and the Westliche Post.
Often he sang quietly to himself : —
" Deutschlands Sohne
Laut ertone
Euer Vaterlandgesang.
Vaterlaod I Du land des Ruhmes,
Weih' zu deines Heiligtnumes
Hutern, uns und unser Sthwert."
There were other songs, too. x^nd some wonderful
quality in the German's voice gave you a thrill when you
heard them, albeit you could not understand the words.
Richter never guessed how Stephen, with his eyes on his
book, used to drink in those airs. And presently he
found out that they were inspired.
The day that the railroad man called, and after he and
the Judge had gone out together, the ice was broken.
" You Americans from the North are a queer people,
Mr. Brice," remarked Mr. Richter, as he put on his coat.
" You do not show your feelings. You are ashamed. The
Judge, at first I could not comprehend him — he wc i
scold and scold. But one day I see that his heart is warui,
and since then I love him. Have you ever eaten a Ger-
man dinner, Mr. Brice ? No ? Then you must come with
me, now."
It was raining, the streets ankle-deep in mud, and the
beer-garden by the side of the restaurant to which they
went was dreary and bedraggled. But inside the place
was warm and cheerful. Inside, to all intents and pur-
poses, it was Germany. A most genial host crossed the
THE LITTLE HOUSE 35
Richer. """ *" •^'"" '°8«">«. » Ge™..„y,-. ^i
^' Yon were all what ?" asked Stephen, intere3t»d
" Stnyere, you might call it in Enriirf, In fh! ir ,
land those who seek (op hiirher rnTiSV ?u- '^*'-
Uberty, and to be rid ofoppfen-a^^'ealiy ll'°J
IS why we fought in '4« o«/i i^„*. "*^ »" cauea. ihat
came Lre, to tfeRepntnc j^'' A"^ 't""".,;' ''''y we
the pat lawyer- bStttestr^vfrl ye Zll^^^T' ^,
?h%°oZ?Cd':„^_t °2^« f ? -n£thTt\rk
«t T ? ^^ ^ ^^^^ ^° war ? "
head^^TS/ ^k:e-LtpX^S^^!»^'"« >"''
eig;^?^«' Y- -0">d flghtfSter?^-Y„n. a for-
M:btf ^^Thrdi^its^i/^VoT °'rr
ripe. This great clntrytelon3^".n'f.f ^^ *""* '*
meonenirrht to South if W*i . ™"^* come with
n^thLT :^„r?^S^^t^^-: --"
I >
1 m.
i«^;
1 »
M
THE CRISI8
i
meree^ and see. This is not our blessed Lichtenhainer, that
we drink at Jena. One may have a pint of Lichtenhainer
for less than a groschen at Jena. Aber" he added as he
rose, with a laugh that showed his strong teeth, '•'• we Ameri-
cans are rich."
As Stephen's admiration for his employer grew, his fear
of him waxed greater likewise. The Judge's methods of
teaching law were certainly not Harvard's methods. For
a fortnight he paid as little attention to the young man as
he did to the messengers who came with notes and cooled
their heels in the outer office until it became the Judge's
pleasure to answer them. This was a trifle discouraging
to Stephen. But he stuck to his Chitty and his Greenleaf
and -his Kent. It was Richter who advised him to buy
Whittlesey's " Missouri Form Book," and warned him of
Mr. Whipple's hatred for the new code. Well that he
did I There came a fearful hour of judgment. With the
swiftness of a hawk Mr. Whipple descended out of a clear
sky, and instantly the law terms began to rattle in Stephen's
head like dried peas in a can. It was the Old Style of
Pleading this time, without a knowledge of which the
Judge declared with vehemence that a lawyer was not fit
to put pen to legal cap.
" Now, sir, the papers ? " he cried.
"First," said Stephen, "was the Declaration. The
answer to that was the Plea. The answer to that was
the Replication. The answer to that was the Rebutter.
And the answer to that was the Surrebutter. But th^y
rarely got that far," he added unwisely.
" A good principle in Law, sir," said the Judge, " is
not to volunteer information."
Stephen was somewhat cast down when he reached
home that Saturday evening. He had come out of his
examination with feathers drooping. He had been given
no more briefs to copy, nor had Mr. Whipple vouchsafed
even to send him on an errand. He had not learned how
common a thing it is with young lawyers to feel that they
are of no use in the world. Besides, the rain continued.
This was the fifth day.
THE LITTLE HOUSE
87
His mother, knitting before the fire in her own room,
greeted him with her usual quiet smile of welcome. He
tried to give her a humorous account of his catechism of
the morning, but failed.
"I am quite sure that he doesn't like me," said Stephen.
His mother continued to smile.
" If he did, he would not show it," she answered.
"I can feel it," said Stephen, dejectedly.
" Sf ^^^^^ ^^ ^®^® ^^^^ afternoon," said his mother.
"What?" cried Stephen. "Again this week? They
say that he never calls in the daytime, and rarely in the
evening. What did he say ? "
" He said that some of this Boston nonsense must be
gotten out of you," answered Mrs. Brice, laughing. " He
said that you were too stiff. That you needed to rub
against the plain men who were building up the West.
Who were making a vast world-power of the original
little confederation of thirteen states. And Stephen,"
she added more earnestly, "I am not sure but what he
18 right."
Then Stephen laughed. And for a long time he sat
staring into the fire.
"What else did he say ? " he asked, after a while.
"He told me about a little house which we might rent
very cheaply. Too cheaply, it seeifls. The house is on
this street, next door to Mr. Brinsmade, to whom it
belongs. And Mr. Whipple brought the key, that we
might inspect it to-morrow."
" But a servant," objected Stephen, " I suppose that we
must have a servant."
His mother's voice fell.
" That poor girl whom you freed is here to see me every
day. Old Nancy does washing. But Hester has no work,
and she is a burden to Judge Whipple. Oh, no," she con-
tinued, in response to Stephen's glance, " the Judge did
not mention that, but I think he had it in mind that Hes-
ter might come. And I am sure that she would."
Siuiday dawned brightly. After church Mrs. Brice
and Stephen walked down Olive Street, and stood looking
, 4
li
'H
iH
II:
6S
THE CRISIS
^H
at a tiny houae wedged in between two large ones with
scrolled fronts. Sad memories of Beacon Street filled
them both as they gazed, but thev said nothing of this to
each other. As Stephen put his hand on the latch of the
little iron gate, a gentleman came out of the larger house
next door. He was past the middle age, somewhat scru-
^''iT^^u^^^ ^"^ *^® <^^^ fashion, in swallowtaU coat
and black stock. Benevolence was in the generous mouth,
m the lar^e nose that looked like Washington's, and benev-
olence fairly sparkled in the blue eyes. He smiled at
them as though he had known them always, and the world
seemed brighter that very instant. They smiled in return,
whereupon the gentleman Ufted his hat. And the kindli-
ness and the courtliness of that bow made them very happv.
" Did you wish to look at the house, madam ? " he asked.
"Yes, sir," said Mrs. Brice.
"Allow me to open it for you," he said, graciously tak-
ing the key from her. " I fear that you will find it incon-
venient and incommodious, ma'am. I should be fortunate,
inieed, to get a good tenant."
He fitted the\ey in the door, while Stephen and his
mother smiled at each other at the thought of the rent.
Ihe gentleman opened the door, and stood aside to let
them enter, very much as if he were showing them a
palace for which he was the humble agent.
They went into the little parlor, Mxlch was nicely fur-
nished in mahogany and horsehair. And it had back of
It a bit of a dining room, with a little porch overlooking
the back yard. Mrs. Brice thought of the dark and stately
high-ceiled dining-room she had known throughout her
married days : of the board from which a royal governor
of Massachusetts Colony had eaten, and some governors
of the Commonwealth since. Thank God, she had not to
sell that, nor the Brice silver which had stood on the high
sideboard with the wolves and the shield upon it. The
widow s eyes filled with tears. She had not hoped again
to have a home for these things, nor the father's armchair,
nor the few famUy treasures that were to come over the
mountains.
THE LITTLE HOUSE gg
•n^-^^Zl hT "'" '"'*'• ^'^ » y»" department,
approached tlem, her eyes were fiTfiH„l*;i, ^? *^®
to her for a little while ? lCthou7h^"Hte St"'"'
you once more, she would die Wv » T>1 ^^ ^^^
choked by a sob. '^appy- The voice was
tu^e'kto1he"Sit^°tt^,fUi'iL'''"'?.i" "'' <""-•»<•
his'ZnS.'^ """" "'' "'»'»"'•" •■« ««*<»' "iti' Wa hat in
J her!^n°waSd°wrif h*° "^T •"■»■ But she
street, hH™ ^ 4; riS'r„nSl7),*"' "P''"^ ^°™ ««
And. tt,en thef ^^f/'h^r^nfj"''"' ""^ " "«■>'•
Pie»the%t^°: "^^-^r^ ^o- ^ ■*«'^ »
r:
1..
. .'as; ■. ;
i
I
CHAPTER XI
THE INVITATION
Mb. Euphalet Hoppeb in his Sunday-best broadcloth
was a marvel of propriety. It seemed to Stephen that his
face wore a graver expression on Sundav when he met him
standing on Miss Crane's doorstep, picking the lint from
his coat. Stephen's intention was not to speak. But he
remembered wnat the Judge had said to his mother, and
nodded. Why, indeed,' should he put on airjs with this
man 'who had come to St. Louis unKnown and unrecom-
mended and poor, who by sheer industry had made
himself of importance in the large business of Carvel &
Company? As for Stephen Brice, he was not yet earn-
ing his salt, but existing by the charity of Judge Silas
Whipple.
" Howdy, Mr. Brice;" said Mr. Hopper, his glance caught
by the indefinable in Stephen's costume. This v, ould have
puzzled Mr. Hopper's tailor more.
"Very well, Uianks."
"A fine day after the rain."
Stephen noddqd, and Mr. Hopper entered the house
after him.
"Be you asked to Virginia Carvel's party?" he asked
abruptly.
" I do not know Miss Carvel," said Stephen, wondering
how well the other did. And if the ruth be told, he was
a little annoyed at Mr. Hopper's free use of her name.
"That shouldn't make no difference," said Eliphalet,
with just a shade of bitterness in his tone. " They keep
open house, like all Southerners, — " Mr. Hopper hesi-
tated,— -"for such as come well recommended. I *mo8t
callate you're n
forgot,'
((
90
any
THE INVITATION
n
X But " ™ d Mr ^'™' ''"«'^? y?" "0 »»" than
.. sf! T ^' °° ."'? '" ""'• neither," he said.
. SW, „Tii""''''\^«?«"y """e'e-J Stephen.
wUh^tpw""'^ '«"**'• ""*■'■ '""•" -P'-O Eliphalet.
thei\*Trt^;;iLT.?or'r:^Se"f„ri!;r;je^^
E'c^tciS'"^ "i' ""* °° Mr.™,?n/"adl- S^Z.
^^^1; coming-out party was the chief topic.
baukrup him •• And ahe looked harf at U HopU
vou/h^^d** '" ■""' P"^*"* '" "'°»»^" th«t geSman
."?''' * 8°°** "'n- ""d <ione well by you, Mr. Honner ••
"So-so," answered Eliphalet. "But I wUl sfv tCf'l
done something for the Colonel. I've saved Urn fl^rJi
times my pay since I showed old H>x)d Ihe kSs A nH ?
f^w^kTAlm'""" '"^'" '">- WH^ht't'tom^'
.^2;»saiFc:^&{;fSs-^rrhaTf-
in
l^nri » °^Sr FY""^^ ™ ^°i^' business in New Entt-
lan^ said Eliphalet, "he'd been bankrupt long aJo." ^
in- « Wi/T^ ^ *1^°°^ ^°^^*^'" M^- Ahner Seed broke
m. "hell get a right smart mint o' money whe?he mar!
f •;ji
' i\
i' i
M
THE CRISIS
f
dent. How now, Mr. Hopper ? " *^
nof re ^*^** ^"^^^^^ mysterious and knowing. He diw
MiM^cine?""^ ^°'^" **"'* P'^'*"'^ * P*"P«''" "»«*
«ud Mr.'SVpef."^ '^** ^'"^^ ''^ ^^"'^ -*"^ C«l^«^"
M;i'fb?okeTffV?*' ^'" "'*"^"- " "^^^ ^- A^"-
.hi' ^S?K ""l^®"*^' " '^ ain't broke off. But I cftUate
muonns^^' ""^'^ *^' '^™' ^°"~- S**«'» »«^ *««
Heavy at heart, Stephen climbed the stairs, thanking
heaven that he had not been drawn into the ^ntr^W
A partial coraprehenjion of Mr. Hoppei- was dawning upon
him He suspected that gentleman of an airMessive
§Z11* 'i^J- *^ V'PT °^ "«>»» that^power upon
those beneath him. l/av, when he thought o^r his c^-
It will be seen whether Stephen was right or wrong.
n..i?S rVii^^S" **"** afternoon, as far out as a place
called Lindell's Grove, which afterward became historic
a Sii t^® retunied to tl.o house, his mother handed him
a little white envelope.
"It came while you were out," she said.
f Kiv *T®^ ' r **''.^'.' *"? ***'®*^ at b" °am« ^tten across
tne front ma feminine hand. In those days younir ladies
did not write in the bold and masculine^ manner now
p^derel. "*^''' ^^ '^'^^ ** ^^^ "''*®' "^anliJ^e* «»d
" Who brought it, mother ? "
with^^smnr* ^""^ ""^^ '*' *°^ ^ ^" **^®*^ ^"^ °*°**'®''
noS^w«''i^^!1'^Pw*'?"• ^?** * ^"°°y' ^«"°al little
sL^hr "^T"^*^ *^^^ ^^°°^^ It was not funny to
Stephen — then. He read it, and he read it again, and
THK INVITATIOW „
6^y h. wJk«l „v„ t. th. wi„dow..tni holding it in hi.
in the knowl«Ige of mankind? ^" """■• '"I*"'""
tg.^SgtheL^"iSt„ZUf'°A''«, «"P'"" -"d
. Bte;'^/tt'"„^rrBtrS
ri
^■■ifl
»'P^
1
1
ism'
I
CHAPTER XII
"MISS jinny"
The years have sped indeed since that gray December
day when Miss Virginia Carvel became eighteen. Old
St. Louis has changed from a pleasant Southern town to a
bustling city, and a high building stands on the site of
that wide and hospitable home of Colonel Carvel. And
the Colonel's 'thoughts that morning, as Ned shaved him,
flew back through the years to a gently rolling Kentucky
conitryside, and a pillared white house among the oaks.
He was ridiag again with Beatrice Colfax in the spring-
tirne. Again he stretched out his arm as if to seize her
bridle-hand, and he felt the thoroughbred rear. Then the
vision faded, and the memory of his dead wife became an
angel's face, far — so far away.
He had brought her to St. Louis, and with his inheri-
tance had founded his business, and built the great double
house on the corner. The child came, and was named
after the noble state which had given so many of her sons
to the service of the Republic.
Five simple, happy years — then war. A black war of
conquest which, like many such, was to add to the nation's
fame and greatness. Glory beckoned, honor called — or
Comyn Carvel felt them. With nothing of the profession
of arms save that born in the Carvels, he kissed Beatrice
farewell and steamed down the Mississippi, a captain in
a Missouri regiment. The young wife was ailing. An-
guish killed her. Had Comyn Carvel been selfish ?
Ned, as he shaved his master's face, read his thoughts
by the strange sympathy of love. He had heard the last
pitiful words of his mistress. Had listened, choking, to
Dr. Posthlewaite as he read the sublime service of the
"MISS JINNY" 95
his moX, « i like1haT''^Y '' ^^^^"^^ ^^' ^«°d over
always afrkid V^Ltg mX" ' ftet "^rK*^^
beauty to resemble her. f Cw rhat i am Hkf her Wh.n
you took me on to Calvert House toTee Uncle d^^I?
that time, I remember the picture by, by -1 '' ^^""^^
"Sir Joshua Reynolds." ^
"Yes, Sir Joshua."
" Sh?irr. ^'^y/^r"'" «ays the Cobnel.
" No " ^^?i M^®^"^* Pf T° *« remember."
have''H;ed"fth W ""'^ '^"^'^'^^' "-P^--% ^^ you
1
1
is
'^.
'Plr'^
!^fW>J
96
THE CRISIS
**Not that I wish to be that kind," said Virginia, medi-
tatively, — "to take London by storm, and keep a man
dangling for years."
"But he got her in the end," said the Colonel. " Where
did you hear all this ? " he asked.
" Uncle Daniel told me. He has Richard Carvel's diary. "
"And a very honorable record it is," exclaimed the
Colonel. " Jinny, we shall read it together when we go
a-visiting to Calvert House. I remember the old gentle-
man as well as if I had seen him yesterday."
Virginia appeared thoughtful.
"Pa," she began, "Pa, did you ever see the pearls
Dorothy Carvel wore on her wedding day ? What makes
you jump like that ? Did you ever see them ? "
" Well, I reckon I did," replied the Colonel, gazing at
her steadfastly.
"Pa, Uncle Daniel told me that I was to have that
necklace when I was old enough."
" Law ! " said the Colonel, fidgeting, " your Uncle
Daniel was just fooling you."
" He's a bachelor," said Virginia; " what use has he got
for it?"
" Why," says the Colonel, " he's a young man yet, your
uncle, only fifty-three. I've known older fools than he to
go and do it. Eh, Ned?"
" Yes, marsa. Yes, suh. I've seed 'em at seventy, an'
shufflin' about peart as Marse Clarence's gamecocks. Why,
dar was old Marse Ludlow — "
" Now, Mister Johnson," Virginia put in severely, " no
more about old Ludlow."
Ned grinned from ear to ear, and in the ecstasy of his
delight dropped the Colonel's clothes-brush. "Lan'
sakes 1 " he cried, " ef she ain't recommembered." Recov-
ering his gravity and the brush simultaneously, he made
Virginia a low bow. " Mornin', Miss Jinny. I sholy is
gwinter s'lute you dis day. May de good Lawd make
you happy. Miss Jinny, an' give you a good husban' — "
"Thank you. Mister Johnson, thank you," said Vir-
ginia, blushing.
'Una A BACHELOK,' SAID VjHGIMA • '
I A ; * WHAT LSE
HAS HE GOT FOR IT ? ' "
I t
I
''m^i.'^mn
J
-. m^^i^^j^m^^^im&wj§s[w-'^s^'m.i,-.yMmiim- ■^--- 2
"MISS JINNY" „
de qualit^.Mam " ^- °°"'* y°" *^ '» Ned "bout
he desired to enter thrWtchen w^M hr'V*™""' '"«'
to <»me mth h„„bleld sSbmi^^^^i'Sl^ '^".""K?*
years). There he would .it w; t-^ five-and-twenty
the whUe an undewMrenr V^f"!' '"'' •'"'yi-g on
whfle Miss VireinirS Ji^f ?">*«»*«. ""J rumblings,
chopped .ndSd and tkJ"^H '"*''•'"!."'' "^
woe to the unfortunate RosSlf 'l! e<>^f^ But
bounds of respect 1 Woe tTw^ L i r'"**^??'' *«
they came a^ inch ovm the Th i. tSH"" °' ^'■^' «
beyond! Even AintpT.* ! threshold from the haU
^l wont to IffirS, whe^lSLtP'?'? ^1^"^^' '^""^^ »>"«
an absolute contemjlZSsToid's""^
^aymisohb^S^r^ """ ""'• *'»""»y^" Vi:^nia would
honeyf ReTkonl-d &^ *'''t J'^ "^^^^^ "' him,
me i* CbZkt^' TJ?,? ?^ •"> ""'^''ed hole of
" 8 once, honey, an^^e' wh« it/ o'm*'*!' *° "'""* "P"
.VeverU.ele.s Ben had, on one Ue^rlto-be-forgotten
I
it
1- IM
"- V
risa
98
THE CRISIS
occasion, ordered Mammy Easter out, and she had gone.
And now, as she was working the beat biscuits to be
baked that evening, Uncle Ben's eye rested on her with
suspicion.
What mere man may write with any confidence of the
delicacies which were prepared in Uncle's kitchen that
morning? No need in those days of cooking schools.
What Southern lady, to the manner born, is not a cook
from the cradle? Even Ben noted with approval Miss
Virginia's scorn fcr pecks and pints, and grunted with
satisfaction over the accurate pinches of spices and flavors
which she used. And he did Miss Eugenie the honor to
eat one of her praleens.
That night came Captain Lige Brent, the figure of an
eager and determined man swinging up the street, and
pulling out his watch under every lamp-post. And in
his haste, in the darkness of a mid-block, he ran into
another solid body clad in high boots and an old army
overcoat, beside a wood wagon.
" Howdy, Captain," said he of the high boots.
"Well, I just thought as much," was the energetic
reply ; « minute I seen the rig I knew Captain Grant was
behind it."
He held out a big hand, which Captain Grant clasped,
just looking at his own with a smile. The stranger was
Captain Elijah Brent of the Louisiana.
"Now," said Brent, "I'll just bet a full carffo that
you're off to the Planters' House, and smoke an El Sol
with the boys."
Mr. Grant nodded. « You're keen. Captain," said he.
"I've got something here that'll outlast an El Sol a
whole rfay," continued Captain Brent, tugging at his
pocket and pulling out a six-inch cigar as black as the
night. " Just you try that."
The Captain instantly struck a match on his boot and
was puffing in a silent enjoyment which delighted his
friend.
" Reckon he don't bring out cigars when you make him
VKigm^'f -isTJa
■*1P
"MISS JINNY" ^
Captain Grant did not reply to that nnr rMA n * •
to puj the Stake, ba^ck into Us^^TTn. "" '""'«* '"«'"
.. &lf " ^°" °* '"' ^'^ "> " he asked.
that^I ^uId/"S""'1i tuiL'^'P.''^,"^^^ "'» *ink
his arm "r^.. ij * '""ked a bundle t ghter under
jSn" Carveu" \te ^ant^^'-T T^ ««!« -eethea,?
««„£/, ^^e Captain Sighed. " She ain'f Hffi^
any more, and she eighteen to-day?" ^ * ^*"^®
« Sav '? ii'^' -iiT"^ *^i« ^^"^ t« ^« forehead,
oay, Lige, said he, " that reminrls mo a .x.
awayj^sa. the Co.fnel ^r^Ci^^.''t\^\C
mtle time^ ' ' ^« •»* my ,y, on him for some
haf dri^enlZ^ltuddf strllr Sf?' ^."P**'" «™*
himself to enter Lcaml^aSSon^^'r -5 °°'"P'^'*
tion t» the salutations oTjlckSTtL butirl"" ^'t?""
Z<-m&.?a'^feZli"r • 'TS P^ ™«« 0° the
'^~§iF-$t
:s*w
100
THE CRISIS
you ride in my boat again. Bill Jenks said: * Are yon
plum erazy. Brent? Look at them cressets.* v ^Five
dollars I ' says I ; * I wouldn't go in for five hundred.
To-morrow's Jinny Carvel's birthday, and I've just got to
be there.' I reckon the time's come when I've got to say
Miss Jinnv," he added ruefully.
The Colonel rose, laughing, and hit the Captain on the
back.
" Drat you, Lige, whv don't you kiss the girl ? Can't
you see she's waiting?
The honest Captain stole one glance at Virginia, and
turned red copper color.
'* Shucks, Colonel, I can't be kissing her always.
What'U her husband say ? "
For an instant Mr. Carvel's brow clouded.
" We'll not talk of husbands yet awhile, Lige."
Virginia went up to Captain Lige, deftly twisted into
shape his black tie, and kissed him on the cheek. How
his face burned when she touched him.
" There ! " said she, " and don't you ever dare to treat
me as a young ladv. Why, Pa, he's blushing like a girl.
I know. He's asnamed to kiss me now. He's going to
be married at last to that Creole girl in New Orleans.'
The Colonel slapped his knee, winked slyly at Lige,
while Virginia began to sing : —
** I built me a house on the mountain so high,
To gaze at my true love as she do go by."
"There's only one I'd ever marry. Jinny,'' protested
the Captain, soDerly, "and I'm a heap too old for her.
But I've seen a youngster that might mate with her,
Colonel," he added mischievously. " If he just wasn't a
Yankee. Jinny, what's the story I hear about Judge
Whipple's joung man buying Hester?"
Mr. Carvel looked uneasy. It was Virginia's turn to
blush, and she grew red as a peony.
" He's a tall, hateful. Black Republican Yankee I " she
said.
"MISS JINNY" IQj
thete ?'^"^ ' " ^^"^^*^ *^« ^*P**i°- " Any more epi-
"He's a nasty Abolitionist I "
^" There you do him wrong, honey," the Colonel put
" I hear he took Hester to Miss Crann's " th^ r<„ * •
"T^r^^ f"^' *^^ '««- ^"^ hnVaVt^^Xr"
"That boy has sand enough, Jinny; I'd liLto know
f^rl^^S^ ^*r® *^** priceless opportunity to-nieht," re-
torted Miss Virginia, as she flung herself out of tie room
Pa has made me invite him te my party "
aftir her' ^7 ' ^^^^ °°J." cried the Captain, running
alter her. " 1 ve got something for you. " ^
bhe stopped on the stairs, hesitatinjr. Wherminnn ih^
Captain hastily ripped open the bundlf under h?s am and
produced a very handsome India shawl. With aTrv of
delight Virginia threw it over her shoulders and tZ to
the long glass between the high windows. **"
" H«r°f«T^' t"' V^^r ^^^^ t^« Colonel, fondly.
"Who spoils you. Jinny?" ^^•'^
" Captain Lige," said she, turning to him. " If von
had only kept the presents you have brought me f Jom
" He is a rich man," said the Colonel, promptly « Did
^"whlT &r^'^^ \P^^«^!)*' ^'^^ ^ " he^asked^^'
"Whv^'nln V- ''•'''''*'''* ^"^""S answered the Captain.
w», 1 ^-.wi.^"^ Virginia, "you brought me a piece of her
^' So Tm" t^d P ''; ' ^S^ ^"^^ ashoreS it.""
*!, * tI ^' ,^^*^ C' P*ai» Brent. « I had for^ottpn
wl?f\ u T"* ^^'.'^ *^" ^'^"^^ dr«««' with the f Sows
w^ lost " ""' ^'*'^ ^"^ ^"*^^ "^^^ ^^««^ Paris for ylu;
ViLl^l ^ M? ^ ^ ^ k'^ *&" P''«°« «* ^h««l ^tter," says
' And who should be the last to leave, but the
captain ?
Li-
102
THE CRISIS
I saw the thing in the water, and I just thought w^ ouriit
to have a relic."
" Liffe," said the Colonel, putting up his feet, *♦ do you
remember the French toys you used to bring up here
from New Orleans ? "
"Colonel," replied Brent, "do you recall the rough and
uncouth young citizen who came over here from Cin-
cinnati, as clerk on the Vicktburgt''
" I remember, sir, that he was so promising that they
made him provisional captain the next trip, and he was
not yet twenty-four years of age."
" And do vou remember buying the Vickthurg at the
sheriff's sale for twenty thousand dollars, and handing her
over to youne Brent, and saying, 'There, my son, she's
your boat, and you can pay for her when you like ' ? "
" Shuqks, Brent ! " said Mr. Carvel, stemlv, " your
memory's too good. But I proved myself a good business
man. Jinny; he paid for her in a year."
" You don't mean that you made him pay you for the
boat?" cried Jinny. "Why, Pa, I didn't think you
were that mean I "
The two men laughed heartily.
" I was a heap meaner," said her father. " I made him
pay interest."
Virginia drew in her breath, and looked at the Colonel
in amazement.
"He's the meanest man I )fcnow," said Captain Lige.
" H6 made me pay interest, and a rmnt julep."'
" Upon my word. Pa," said Miss Virginia, soberly, " I
shouldn't have believed it of you."
Just then Jackson, in his white jacket, came to announce
that supper was ready, and they met Ned at the dining-
room door, fairly staggering under a load of roses.
" Mai-se Clarence done send 'em in, des picked out'n de
hothouse dis afternoon, Miss Jinny. Jackson, fetch a
bowl I "
" No," said Virginia. She took the flowers from Ned,
one by one, and to the wonderment of Captain Lige and
her father strewed them hither and thither upon the table
"MISS JINNY"
103
rn!nL?\''te u^^^ ^'^ ^'^ ^y *^« ^ flowers. The
Co onel stroked his goatee and nudged Captain Liire
" Look-a-there, now," said he. " Any^other Toman
would have spent two mortal hours stickin' 'em in chTa "
Virginia, having critically surveyed her work amid
exclamations from Ned and "Jackson, had gone arounTto
her place. And there upon her plate lay a^jearl necklace
if?n*lS. '"??"* '^' "^*?P«^ ^«^ P»^™« togetC starinrat
of L^It f^'"*- J^""^ r'A "«^ *^« li"l« chiluish^^
of deh^ht, long sweet to the Colonel's ears, escaped her.^
for fe^r tW ^'^' l^ ^'T" " ^°^ ^^^^ she ctopp^d,
ingly ""'^ °°* **^- ^""^ ^« °°^^«d encoSrag.
;| Dorothy Carvel's necklace I No, it can't be."
res, honey,' said the Colonel. " Your Uncle Daniel
sent It, as he promised. And when you go upstairs if
fn^d^hTn^^el^^f ;i^^ ^' ^« '"^^^ «^-^ ^«^<^e ^^'^
them^** A\i''^^V'''?P'[ *^®y had, -just the three of
tHem I And as the fresh roses filled the room with fra-
grance, Virgnia filled it with youth and spS,^d Mr
Carvel and the Captain with honest, manly meSment
And Jackson pliecf Captain Brent (who w^ a primi
favorite in that house) with broiled chicken and hofS?
biscuits and with waffles, until at length he lay back in his
chair and heaved a sigh of content, lighting JcigT And
J' WeU," said Captain Brent, "I reckon there'll be irav
fJ.T"r Y? *^;°?^*- I ^°"^dn't miss the sight^^
em, Colonel, for all the cargoes on the Mississippi Ain't
there anything I can do ? " ^"Jwissippi. Ain t
"No, thank you, Lige," Mr. Carvel ans'-,red. "Do
I H
Ms ^1
li 1
IM
THB CfBISIS
you remember, one morning some five veam a<m- •»,-«
oh^kP.^*" ?" « JTP^' *"^ tJ^e when of his ciirar fell
Cap'jn G*ant"' ""^ '°'««^**^ ^« conversiuor^^L'
"I reckon I do," he said dryly.
Tha^^'i,* °?^?!"* ^e was on the point of telling the affair
^CS,Sd "" "■" '" ""'"' •"" •' •"" channel before
they came around .fe „.» afterird,'M.'e%ddld;/auXnr
young Hopper He'U get the order, or I'U eiVe ud thil
p^ZboZ S-leT.Hed'^rSS
laughmff, Liffe. to hpur >,n,„ ».r ^: j :. » '^"^ ^^^ ** ^^e
fiil!^ "« V "~V""" "V?^ "'''''^ ^^^ *^« Uolonel, thouffht-
Sion He hlT °^^""" ^."^^* ^'^t^^ » solicftorfrke
poison. He has his notions. And maybe you've noticed
"MISS JINNY" j^
The Captain nodded.
man*8
clerk.
says he.
«ay8 Mr Hopper ^ind^''" '"f^' "'•^' *^ *^«"ate to"
roo8teh'». Git I ' •• ^^ ' " """K y""" »««'' like a
" Wright "hL"" If""" >^"' C»P'«'» «"»»■
Planters' House, vou kiow wt f ^ "iSr° ^*^®« »* the
butgo VoundlSertharv:;ynl^hfan^^^^^^^^ ^^^^' ^«
bits tc puc im at the oilman's trbt*^V>,°'«^gJ'.*r
There wa8 a ,ilen<». Then the door-tu L»
-C*
■'■'^
. c^v^j^'»mpm^y^mw^.
■- "1 '-
iPtiTT.
.%
W.m^es^'J
\
CHAPTER XIII
THE PARTY
m^
lo gentle Miss Anne BrJnsmade, to Puss Russell of
the mischievous eyes, au<i even to timid Eugenie Renault,
the question that burne I was : Would he come, or would
he not ? And, secondarily, how would Virginia treat him
if he came ? Put our friend Stephen for the subjective,
and Miss Carvel's party for the objective in the above,
and we have the clew. For very young girls are gi%'en to
making much out of a very little in such matters. If Vir-
ginia had not gotten angry when she had been teased a
fortnight before, all would have been well.
Even Pi'ss, who walked where angels feared to tread,
did not dare to go too far with Virginia. She had taken
care before the day of the party to beg forgiveness with
considerable humility. It had been granted with a q ueenly
generosity. And after that none of the bevy had dared
to broach the subject to Virginia. Jack Brinsmade had.
He told Puss afterward that when Virginia got through
with h im, he felt as if he had taken a rapid trip through
the wheel-house f a large steamer. Puss tried, by vari-
ous ingenious devices, to learn whether Mr. Brica had
accepted his invitation. She failed.
These things added a zest to a party long looked for-
ward to amongst Virginia's intimates. In those days
young ladies did not " come out " so frankly as they do
now. Mothers did not announce to the world that they
possessed marriageable daughters. The world was sup-
posed to know that. And then the matrimonial market
was feverishly active. Young men proposed as naturally
as they now ask a young girl to go for a walk, — and
were refused quite as naturally. An offer of marriage
106
- x.^.. .
THE PAETY
107
was not the fearful and wonderful thW—to be dealt
wi? r^.. -"^^°^ ** ^ "'^ce become. Seventeen
was oFten the age at which they began. And ^v c ^t he
Hand at Virginia s feet once a mouth. Nor did ds vani>v
suffer greatly when she laughed at him ^
C^leT^ests^ ml'a '^ rl^r^*' therefore, that Miss
tr ctf^^?^^ them too long, th^e^ ^::;:'L^;;ZX
a.d^^«^^
their fathers and grandfathers. And if an oS gentle-
tZV.^^r^*Sf'^P' *^" *^« ^ight be seen going^down
the hall together, arm in arm. So came his lelofed I
emy, Judge Whipple, who did not make an excursion to
stooranST"^ "^*^.^^T^ ^*^ *be Colonel ; but t^^^^^
biUtv fS. tli'''''''? ^'- ^'««ident Bachanan'L respon^i^
nS W f f- '^''5''* P^°'°' ""*^1 *be band, which Mr. Hop-
^A«w/**?Ti,^ under the stairs, drowned their voicer
As we enter the room, there stands Virginia imder th«
rambowed prisms of the great chandelier, fecefvi^g BuJ
here was suddenly a woman of twenty-eight, whete on?v
th« evening we knew a slip of a girl. It ta^ a trick she
had to become ma estic in a ball-gown. She held her
head high, as a woman should, and It her slender throat
glowed the pearls of Dorothy Manners. *
souTs of Tinv If^^i ^^^^'^ *° ^*"^« * li"l« *^« i^to the
souls of many of her playmates. Little Eugenie nearlv
sheTrtotZr^^- y.T^ Cluyme was so imfre^'ed Th "^
She torgot for a whole hour to be spiteful. But Puss
" Nerv' IS I " exclaimed Jinny ; "why ? "
B„f «h«^T'' i^'"'^^ significantly towards the doorway.
But she said nothing to her hostess, for fear of marring i^
-;!
11
f;|^...:>'\^'*s^':^J^
y>i-i='i?--£iJi'
106
THE CRISIS
i^'
Otherwise happy occasion. She retired with Jack Brins-
made to a comer, where she recited : — v '
"Oh young Loohinvar is come out of the East;
Of millions of Yankees I love him the least"
" What a joke if he should come I " cried Jack.
Miss Russell gasped.
Just as Mr. Clarence Colfax, resplendent in new even-
ing clothes just arrived from New York, was pressing his
claim for the first dance with his cousin in opposition to
numerous other claims, the chatter of the guests died away.
Virginia turned her head, and for an instant the pearls
trembled on her neck. There was a young man cordially
and unconcernedly shaking hands with her father and
Captain Lige. Her memory of that moment is, strangely,
not of his face (she did not deign to look at that), but of
the muscle of his shoulder half revealed as he stretched
forth his arm.
Young Mr. Colfax bent over to her ear.
"Virginia,'* he whispered earnestly, almost fiercely,
"Virginia, who invited him here?"
" I did," said Virginia, calmly, " of course. Who in-
vites any one hei^^?
" But I " cried Clarence, " do you know who he is ? "
" Yes," she answered, " I know. And is that any reason
why he should not come here as a guest ? Would you
bar any gentleman from your house on account of his
convictions ? "
Ah, Virginia, who had thought to hear that argument
from your lips ? What would frank Captain Lige say of
the consistency of women, if he heard you now ? And
how give an account of yourself to Anne Brinsmade?
What contrariness has set you so intense against your
own argument?
Before one can answer this, before Mr. Clarence can
recover from his astonishment and remind her of her
vehement words on the subject at Bellegarde, Mr. Stephen
is making thither with the air of one who conquers.
Again the natural contrariness of women. What bare-
THE PAftTY
am
faced impudence I Has he no shame that he should hold
his head so high ? She feels her color mounting, even as
her reseuiment rises at his self-possession, and yet she
would have despised him had he shown self-consciousness
in gait or manner in the sight of her assembled guests.
'Tfe.*^ u" **.*H ^°^°°®^ ^i°^««^^' he i« plainly seen,
and Miss Puss in her corner does not have to stand
on tiptoe. Mr. Carvel does the honors of the Intro-
duction.
But a daughter of the Carvehj was not to fail before such
a paltry situation as this. ShaU it be confessed that curi-
osity stepped into the breach ? As she gave him her hand
she was wondering how he would act.
As a matter of fact he acted detestably. He said noth-
ing whatever, but stood regarding her with a clear eye
and a face by far too severe. The thought that he was
meditating on the incident of the auction sale crossed
through her mind, and made her blood simmer. How
dared he behave so I The occasion called for a Httle sm?:'
talk. An evil spirit took possession of Virginia. She
turned.
"Mr. Brice, do you know my cousin, Mr. Colfax?" she
said.
Mr. Brice bowed. "I know Mr. Colfax by sight," he
replied. j s «» ««
Then Mr. Colfax made a stiff bow. To this new phase
his sense of humor did not rise. Mr. Brice was a Ywikee
and no gentleman, inasmuch as he had overbid a lady for
-ciesver.
"Have you come here to live, Mr. Brice?" he asked.
smil d ^^^ ^^ nephew sharply. But Stephen
"Yes," he said, "if I can presently make enough to
keep me ahye." Then turning to Virginia, he said, "Will
you dance. Miss Carvel ? "
The effrontery of this demand quite drew the breath
from the impatient young gentlemen who had been wait-
ing their turn. Several of them spoke up in remonstrance.
And for the moment (let one confess it who kjiows>
i ■;
110
THE CRISIS
i
Virginia was almost tempted to lay her arm in his. Then
she made a bow that would have been quite as effective
the length of the room.
"Thank you, Mr. Brice," she said, "but I am engaffed
to Mr. Colfax." ^ *
Abstractedly he watched her glide away in her cousin's
arms. Stephen had a way of being preoccupied at such
times. When he grew older he would walk the length of
Olive Street, look into face after face of acquaintances,
not a quiver of recognition in his eyes. But most prob-
ably the next week he would win a brilliant case in the
Supreme Court. And so now, indifferent to the amuse-
ment of some about him, he stood staring after Virginia
and Clarence. Where had he seen Colfax's face before
he came West ? Ah, he knew. Many, many years before
he had stood with his father in the meiiow light of the long
gallery at Hollingdean, Kent, Vufore a portrait of the Stu-
art'^' time. The face was that of one of Lord Northwell's
ancestors, a sporting nobleman of the time of the second
Charles. It was a head which compelled one to pause
before it. Strangely enough, — it was the head likewise
of Clarence Colfax.
The image of it Stephen had carried undimmed in the
f ve of his memory. White-haired Northwell's story, also.
It was not a story that Mr. Brice had expected his small
son to grasp. As a matter of fact Stephen had not grasped
it then — but years afterward. It was not a pleasant
story, — and yet there was much of credit in it to the
young rake its subject, — of dash and courage and princely
generosity beside the profligacy and incontinence.
The face had impressed him, with its story. He had
often dreamed of it, and of the lace collar over the dull-
gold velvet that became it so well. And here it was at
last, in a city west of the Mississippi River. Here were
the same delicately chiselled features, with their pallor,
and satiety engraved there at one and twenty. Here was
the same lazy scorn in the eves, and the look which sleep-
lessness gives to the lids : the hair, straight and fine and
black; the wilful indulgence — not of one life, but of
THE PARTY
HI
generations -- about the mouth ; the pointed chin. And
yet it was a face to dare anything, and to do anything.
One thing more ere we have done with that which no
man may explain. Had he dreamed, too, of the girl ?
Of Virginia ? Stephen might not tell, but thrice had the
Colonel spoken to him before he answered.
"You must meet some of these young ladies, sir."
It was little wonder that Puss Russell thought him dull
on that first occasion. Out of whom condescension is to
flow is a matter of which Heaven takes no cognizance.
To use her own words. Puss thought hini "stuck up,"
when he should have been grateful. We know that
Stephen was not stuck up, and later Miss Russell learned
that likewise. Very naturally she took preoccupation for
indifference. It is a matter worth recording, however,
that she did not tease him, because she did not dare. He
did not ask her to dance, which was rude. So she passed
him back to Mr. Carvel, who introduced him to Miss
Renault and Miss Saint Cyr, and other young ladies of
the best French families. And finally, drifting hither and
thither with his eyes on Virginia, in an evil moment he
was presented to Mrs. Colfax. Perhaps it has been
guessed that Mrs. Colfax was a very great lady indeed,
albeit the daughter of an overseer. She bore Addison
Colfax's name, spent his fortune, and retained her good
looks. On this particular occasion she was enjoying
herself quite as much as any young girl in the room ; and,
while resting from a waltz, was regaling a number of
gentlemen with a humorous account of a scandal at the
Virginia Springs.
None but a great lady could have meted out the punish-
ment administered to poor Stephen. None but a great
lady could have conceived it. And he, who had never
been snubbed before, fell headlong into her trap. How
was the boy to know that there was no heart in the smile
with which she greeted him ? It was all over in an in-
stant. She continued to talk about Virginia Springs.
"Oh, Mr. Brice, of course you have been there. Of
course you know the Edmunds. No ? You haven't been
mmMmfmr^^^mmmmtfWB^.
112
THE CRISIS
there ? You don't know the Edmunds ? I thought everv-
6orfy had been there. Charles, you look as if you we?e
just dying to waltz. Let's have a turn before the music
stops.
And so she whirled away, leaving Stephen forlorn, a
little too angry to be amused just then. In that state he
spied a gentleman coming towards him — a gentleman the
sight of whom he soon came to associate with all that is
good and kindly in this world, Mr. Brinsmade. And
now he put his hand on Stephen's shoulder. Whether
he had seen the incident just past, who cau tfcU ?
"My son," said he, "I am delighted to see you here.
Now that we are such near neighbors, we must be nearer
friends, "iou must know my wife, and my son Jack, and
my daughter Anne."
Mrs. Brinsmade Was a pleasant little body, but plainly
not a fit mate for her husband. Jack gave Stephen a
warm grasp of the hand, and an amused look. As for
Anne, she was more like her father; she was Stephen's
friend from that hour.
"I have seen you quite often, going in at your gate,.
Mr. brice. And I have seen your mother, too. I like
her, said Anne. « She has such a wonderful face." And
the girl raised her truthful blue eyes to his.
" My mother would be delighted to know you," he ven-
tured, not knowing what else to say. It was an eflfort for
him to reflect upon their new situation as poor tenants to
a wealthy family.
"Oh, do you think so?" cried Anne. "I shall call on
her to-morrow, with mother. Do you know, Mr. Brice,"
she continued, " do you know that your mother is just
the person I should go to if I were in trouble, whether I
knew her or not?"
"I have found her a good person in trouble," said
Stephen, simply. He might have said the same of Anne.
Anne was enchanted. She had thought him cold, but
these words belied that. She had wrapped him in that
diaphanous substance with which voung ladies (and some-
times older ones) are wont to deck their heroes. She had
THE PARTr
113
terier^fit* Ty.^Tl^ ^°^ ^* '^"'^»°' ^ »re many mys-
leries. But thank Heaven that she found a riT««;J;^
Ru88ell, who wa8 better pleS^ed this time Tlhe pSd hZ
u^^i^rr'^S°a.^-hit"^^ -''■'"--« His
to^Stephen s amazement, even Judge Whipple hfd pr4ed
kerchTe? Ztl^^^ ""^'^^'^ ^^*"" ^"^^y R"««eU's hand-
Fh^^K r. ??* ^® '*'' *°^°^ another acquaiatance Mr
Ehphalet Hopper in Sunday broadcloth, w^ seated on
the landing, his head lowered to the level of f?lf!l ^
e:nTaf fi^J: ^V'^' ^^ ^^^^ ^-1 f^erthe^
« Enjoyin' yourself ? » asked Mr. Hopper,
btephen countered. ^^
"Are you? "he asked.
in '?^** r" ^'*^ J^""- Hopper, and added darkly: "I ain't
m no hurry. Just now they callate I'm abo.i/^nJ^
enough to manage the businesi end of ai^ffat Hke^tWs
;:! ■
1 '.l
if
I I
r
T^:.^:^' fjiirTiP'-^r-vv^.'^-*-
114
THE CRISIS
dishearten and disgust him. Kindly as he had b«en
treated bj others, far back in his soul was a thihg that
rankled. Shall it be told crudely why he went that
night ? Stephen Brice, who would not Ue to others, lied
to himself. And when he came downstairs again and pre-
sented Miss Emily with her handkerchief his next move
was in his mind. And that was to say go^-night to the
Colonel, and more frigidly to Miss Carvel herself. But
music has upset many a man's calculations.
The strains of the Jenny Lind waltz were beginning to
float through the rooms. There was Miss Virginia in a
comer of the bi^ parlor, for the moment alone with her
consin. And thither Stephen sternly strode. Not a sign
dia she give of being aware of his presence until he stood
before her. Ev«i then she did not lift her eyes. But
she said : —
" So you have come at last to try again, Mr. Brice ? "
And Mr. Brice said : —
" If you will do me the honor. Miss Carvel."
She did not reply at once. Clarence Colfax got to his
feet. Then she looked up at the two men as they stood
side by side, and perhaps swept them both in an instant's
comparison.
The New Englander's face must have reminded her
more of her own father. Colonel Carvel. It possessed,
from generations known, the power to control itself. She
afterwards admitted that she accepted him to tease Clar-
ence. Miss Russell, whose intuitions are usually correct,
does not believe this.
" I will dance with you," said Virginia.
But, once in his arms, she seemed like a wild thing,
resisting. Although her gown brushed his coat, the space
between them was infinite, and her hand lay limp in his,
unresponsive of his own pressure. Not so her feet ; they
caught the step and moved with the rhjrthm of the music,
and round the room they swung. More than one pair
paused iu the dance to watch them. Then, as they glided
past the door, Stephen was disagreeably conscious of some
one gazing down from above, and he recalled Eliphalet
^ijef-^'^''^'MMd''^i^^
■^t^^mm^mf^^i n-
i
'So YOU HAVE COME AT LAST
TO TRY AGAIN, Mr. BricE ? '
■m^M'w?^^,
^JhCra.i3S(E. ^bC'i^
THE PARTY
115
Hopper and his position. The sneer from Eliphalet'g face
seemed to penetrate like a chilly draught.
All at once, Virginia felt her partner gathering up his
strength, and by some compelling force, more of will
than of muscle, draw her nearer. Unwillingly her hand
ti( htened under his, and her blood beat faster and her
color came and went as they two moved as one. Anger
— helpless anger — took possession of her as she saw the
smiles on the faces of her friends, and Puss Russell mock-
ingly throwing a kiss as she passed her. And then, strange
in the telling, a thrill as of power rose within her which
she strove against in vain. A knowledge of him who
guided her so swiftly, so unerringly, which she had felt
with no other man. Faster and faster they stepped, each
forgetful of self and place, until the waltz came suddenly
to a stop.
"By gum I" said Captain Lige to Judge Whipple,
"you can whollop me on my own forecastle if they ain't
the handsomegt couple I ever did see."
i -ti
i 1
'- '.(K - -.'z: .. V '. mL^zs^s^mmuBPism
BOOK II
CHAPTER I
RAW MATERIAL
Summer, intolerable summer, was upon the city at last.
The families of its richest citizens had fled. Even at that
early day some braved the long railroad journey to the
Atlantic coast. Amongst these were our friends the
Cluymes, who come not strongly into this history. Some
went to the Virginia Springs. But many, like the Brins-
mades and the Russells, the Tiptons and the Rollings,
worths, retired to the local paradise of their country places
on the Bellefontaine road, on the cool heights above the
nver. Thither, as a respite from the hot office, Stephen
was often invited by kind Mr. Brinsmade, who sometimes
drove him out in his -wn buggy. Likewise he had vis-
ited Miss Puss Ru8S( But Miss Virginia Carvel he had
never seen since the night he had danced with her. This
was because, after her return from the young ladies'
school at Monticello, she had gone to Glencoe,— Glencoe
magic spot, perched high on wooded highlands. And
under these the Meramec, crystal pure, ran lightly on sand
and pebble to her bridal with that turbid tyrant, the
leather of Waters.
To reach Glencoe you spent two dirty hours on that
railroad which (it was fondly hoped) would one day
stretch to the Pacific Ocean. You generally spied one of
the h:^ Catherwood boys in the train, or their tall sister
Maude. The Catherwoods likewise lived at Glencoe in
the summer. And on some Saturday afternoons a grim
I RAW MATERIAL Uy
would drop in at the little hou«, „n OUve'st! •."'"'' '"
Mr. Bnnsmade's bie one whiXJl. u ! ^'"'" "«** to
with Mrs. Brioe. if^m^M LT m' VP- "d take tea
porohoverthegardenhJZerear „r "11 "/ °" "" ""1«
watch the bob-Lled hor^^'g^' 2?%i'r' "'P'' "<•
was chiefly a-Idressed to the wid?^ ^' p f """^ra't'on
Whose Wholesome respect for Ils^o.tlVL t^^^^
been for the fact ^hatMr"'^^^^^^^^^ IT .?«^ ^^ "«*
house, despair would have se^zWfnT"* *^ *^'« '"^th^'s
ently his goinffs-out and h;f • '"" '*°«^ «^"«e. Appar-
by kr. Richt?r Trufv heTi"^"'" ^f^ "oted^^ly
Harvard methods And if th ^^^' ""^^^^^^ ^"e not
Bostonian, Mr? Whippb thour Tlf ^"^1^° ^^^ y«"»g
^^ It was to Richter Khen owed a fZ '?" '"^^ ^«^ ^*
these days. He would often tlC^ t ^^^^ ?^ gratitude in
down-town beer garden with tht •'^^^ ">««! in the
there came a Sunday af^innn%r'^^ ^'"'■°'*"- Then
red letter^ when RiXw f **" ^^ ^® marked with a
across the Rhine. The Rhin? w!?' lu^',''^*^^ *°«^ ^'°^
south of that street ™ a cointr^^f if'^"* ?.*^"*' ^^^
can society took no co^izance '^ ^ ""^'^ ^"^ ^'»«"-
Lo^s^argr^e^atr u^ordtoi"^^^^^^^ ^^^ «*'
set down in 111 its vigorous cnidTv -^ .^^^herland and
mud of the MississippfvalleV^^^^^^^ !" *^l ™°^ ^^^^^
place of Bourbon, and black *brSr T' ^''" *««^ ^^^
rolls and fried cWcken R.rf ''''^ '*^«^«« «f ^o*
houses squatting in the middle of' T^ ^"*^°* "^^'^^^t-
churches%quarfrndu\"om^^^^^^^^^
Hails, where German childrL w^^Tglt' WerSTn
i.-:»^
»
.W- - —
118
THE CRISIS
tongue. Here, in a shady grove of mulberry and locust,
two hundred families were spread out at their ease.
For a while Richter sat in silence, puflBng at a meer-
schaum with a huge brown bowl. A trick of the mind
opened for Stephen one of the histories in his father's
library in Beacon Street, across the pages of which had
flitted the ancestors of this blue-eyed and great-chested
Saxon. He saw them in cathedral forests, with the red
hair long upon their bodies. He saw terrifying battles
with the Roman Empire surging back and forth through
the low countries. He saw a lad of twenty at the head of
rugged legions clad in wild skins, sweeping Rome out of
Gaul. Back in the dim ages Richter's fathers must have
defended grim Eresburg. And it seemed to him that in
the end the new Republic must profit by this rugged stock,
which had good women for wives and mothers, and for
fathers men in whose blood dwelt a fierce patriotism and
contempt for cowardice.
This fancy of ancestry pleased Stephen. He thought
of the forefathers of those whom he knew, who dwelt north
of Market Street. Many, though this generation of the
French might know it not, had bled at Calais and at
Agincourt, had followed the court of France in clumsy
coaches to Blois and Amboise, or lived in hovels under
the castle walls. Others had charged after the Black
Prince at Poictiers, and fought as serf or noble in the war
of the Roses; had been hatters or tailors in Cromwell's
armies, or else had sacrificed lands and fortunes for Charles
Stuart. These English had toiled, slow but resistless,
over the misty Blue Ridge after Boone and Harrod to
this old St. Louis of the French, their enemies, whose fur
traders and missionaries had long followed the veins of
the vast western wilderness. And now, on to the struc-
ture builded by these two, comes Germany to be welded,
to strengthen or to weaken.
Richter put down his pipe on the table.
" Stephen," he said suddenly, « you do not share the
prejudice against us here ? "
Stephen flushed. He thought of some vigorous words
BAW MATEEIAL uj
tigt_ M«5 P„„ RusseU had «^ on the subject of the
"No," said he, emphaticaUy.
of J We are still falT?* ?? '*'°" y" ^''<"' »">"
tion." "'^y fought our revolu-
hoi'dl"* '"'^'" "^^ ^'"P'"'"' "''''y d" thoy not keep their
Richter sighed.
that we were nof M"" !J . ^'^ '^''- ^^^ °»««t remember
for centuries ground u^der heel "do "nf ''I'' ^^""^ ^"°
parliamentarian No- vour h J. *• "'?.*' Practical
Americans anf English • ^3 tTr^^ '' liberty-you
oar native land tTaike of ,7'^^'°^^ ^^' desert
"Then our Fatheriand was French On,. ™««.
11 was leather Jahn (so we love to call
120
THE CRISIS
him), it was Father Jahn who founded the Turruehulen^
that the generations to come might return to simple Get-
man ways, — plain fare, high principles, our native tongue,
and the development of the body. The downfall of the
fiend Napoleon and the Vaterland united — these two his
scholars must have written in their hearts. All summer
long, in their black caps and linen pantaloons, they would
trudge after him, begging a crust here and a cheese there,
to spread his teachings far and wide under the thatched
roofs.
" Then came 1811. I have heard my father tell how
in the heat of that year a great red comet burned in the
sky, even as that we now see, my friend. God forbid
that this portends blood. But in the coming spring the
French conscripts filled our sacred land like a swarm of
locusts, devouring as they went. And at their head, with
the pomp of Darius, rode that destroyer of nations and
homes. Napoleon. What was Germany then ? Ashes.
But the red embers were beneath, fanned by Father Jahn.
Napoleon at Dresden made our princes weep. Never,
even in the days of the Frankish kings, had we been so
humbled. He dragged our young men with him to Russia,
and left them to die moaning on the frozen wastes, while
he drove ofF in his sledge.
"It was the next year that Germany rose. High and
low, rich and poor, Jaegers and Landwehr, came flocking
into the army, and even the old men, the Landatrum.
Russia was an ally, and later, Austria. My father, a lad
of sixteen, was in the Landwehr, under the noble Bliicher
in Silesia, when they drove the French into the Katzbach
and the Neisse, swollen hy the rains into torrents. It had
rained until the forests were marshes. Powder would
not bum. But Bliicher, ah, there was a man! He
whipped his great sabre from under his cloak, crying ' Vor-
wUrU! Vorw&rU!' And the Landwehr with one great
shout slew their enemies with the butts of their muskets
until their arms were weary and the bodies were tossed
like logs in the foaming waters. They called Bliicher
Marshal VorwUrU!
SF*^r
'^^W.
^V^'g^
BAW MATERIAL
121
"Then Napoleon was sent to Elba Bnf *i,« ^ 4.
quarrelled amongst themselv^ whn« TuU V^^^l
widows and the fatherless, went for nothing."
Kichter paused to light his pipe.
Geri^CoX'^^^^^^^^^
Napoleon we had another despot in Metternich nfffh
tree which Jahn had planted g?ew, and it bS^^^^^^
The great master was surrounded by spies Mvflfw
.Xfor ^/r ^r^-^ity, when h7joffi-theX^.W
Tt £' 1 Students' League, of which I will tell you lat^
It was pledged to the rescue of the Vaterlanrl ^ „J*ter.
SanV^r Ti7 ^^r^ ^^ hanl\rcSn L b^ood'o?
wt^l'i^^f 5'^ ^r ^^^^y *^ Mannheim. Afterward he
prisor becauL^^the s^o^et^es m^et at^Cho^T XlZ^^,
very poor my friend. You in America know not the
meaning of that word. His health broke, and when '48
wJft'hu'^^ *^ ^^^ °^*°- His hair was white and he
walked the streets with a crutch. But he had s^ved ^
little money to send me to Jena. *
"He was proud of me. I was big-boned and fair like
my mother. And when I came home ft the end of a K^r
-- 1 can see him now, as he would hobble to the door
weanng the red and black and gold of the Bur sXnJha^'
And he would keep me up half the niJZ-ZlinT^n^i
our ,cA%«r fights^ith ?he aristocX My afher had
been a noted swordsman in his day."
He stopped abruptly, and colored. For Stephen was
stanng at the jagged scar. He had never simmoned TS
courage to ask Richter how he came by it. '^"'''''^^ *^«
« Schl&ffer fights ? " he exclaimed.
^u^j^^T^^^^^' answered the German, hastily. « Some
day I wiU teU you of them, and of the struggle with the
troops in the Breite Strasse in March. We lost ^I told
you, because we knew not how to hold what we had gLei
III
122
THE CRISIS
I left Germany, hoping to make a home here for my poor
father. How sad his t&ce as he kissed me farewell I ^ And
he said to me: ' Carl, if ever your new Vaterland, the good
Republic, be in danger, sacrifice all. I have -spent my
years in bondage, and I say to you that life without liberty
IS not worth tlie living.' Three months I was gone,
and he was dead, without that for which he had striven
so bravely. He never knew what it is to have an abun-
dance of meat. He never knew from one day to the other
when he would have to embrace me, all he owned, and
march away to prison, because he was a patriot." Richter's
voice had fallen low, but now he raised it. " Do you think,
my friend," he cried, " do you think that I would not die
willingly for this new country if the time should come ?
Yes, and there are a million like me, once German, now
American, who will give their lives to preserve this Union.
For without it the world is not fit to live in."
Stephen had food for thought as he walked northward
through the strange streets on that summer evening. Here
indeed was a force not to be reckoned, and which few had
taken into account.
'^^''^'Wfw:f
CHAPTER n
ABRAHAM LINCOLN
It is sometimes instructive to look back cud see how
Destiny gave us a kick here, and Fate a shove there, that
sent us in the right direction at t'le proper time. And
when Stephen Brice looks backward now, he laughs to
think that he did not suspect the Judge of being an ally of
the two who are mentioned above. The sum total of Mr.
Whipple's words and advices to him that summer had
been these. Stephen was dressed more carefully than
usual, in view of a visit to Bellefontaine Road. Where-
upon the Judge demanded whether he were contemplat-
ing marriage. Without waiting for a reply he pointed to
a rope and a slab of limestone on the pavement below, and
waved his hand unmistakably toward the Mississippi.
Miss Russell was of the opinion that Mr. Whipple had
once been crossed in love.
But we are to speak more particularly of a put-up job,
although Stephen did not know this at the time.
Towards five o'clock of a certain afternoon in August
of that year, 1858, Mr. Whipple emerged from his den.
Instead of turning to the right, he strode straight to
Stephen's table. His communications were always a trifle
startling. This was no exception.
" Mr. Brice," said he, " you are to take the six forty-
five train on the St. Louis, Alton, and Chicago road to-
morrow morning for Springfield, Illinois."
"Yes, sir."
" Arriving at Sprinfield, you are to deliver this enve-
lope into the hands of Mr. Abraham Lincoln, of the law
firm of Lincoln & Herndon.'
12S
, m
T
124
THE CRISIS
"Abraham Lincoln," interrupted the Judife, forcibly
"I tnr to speak plainly, sir. fou are to defver U in^o
Mr Lincoln's hands. If he is not in Springfield, find
out where he is and follow him up. Your^x^n e S?n
^ndSlntrV" ^'^ ^^^^ ^'« import^t.^Do you
Stephen did. And he knew better than to armie thp
s:i^r/s ^'' '^'^??'" , "^ ""'^ ''^'- 1 Eot
J}emoerat of this man Lincoln, a country lawyer who had
once been to Congress, and who was even now dTsprin^
the senatorship of his state with the renowned D^ugt^^
li?f 1?!^ ^ ?^'% complacent amusement, he had won a
little admiration from conservative citizens who did not
^i^v' 'VI' '^""ST- V^'^P ^oviE\^^^ Squatter Sover-
^?i ^i'-*.^*^^'"'^ *^'* ^^- L^°^°^"' wl^o had once been a
ml-sphtter, was uproariously derided by Northern Demo-
crats because he had challenged Mr. Douglas to seven
debates to be held at different towns in the stete ofTll^
m*J!f; K i 7"**" v'%'"?^ *°^ ^'^ «™««*h round pebble
Fnr M^ ^ "^T^ c *^^ same sympathy and ridicule.
Hor Mr. Douglas, Senator and Judge, was a national
character, mighty in politics, invulnerafi; iT^he armiro
?fttff p'^V A?^ ^' T^ \^°T ^*'- «°d wide as the
Little Giant. Those whom he did not conquer with his
logic were impressed by his person.
Stephen remembered with a thrill that these debates
were going on now. One, indeed, had been held, and had
appeared m fine print m a comer of the Democrat. Per-
haps this Lincoln might not be in Springfield ; perhaps he
Stephen Brice, might, by chance, fit upon a d^batefand
step^i^rD^t"" '' *'^ ^'"^^'^^^' *^' «-^-^^«
But it is greatly to be feared that our friend Stephen
was bored with his errand before he arrived at the fittle
wooden station of the Illinois capital. Standing on the
platform after the ;rain pulled out, he summfned up
courage to ask a citizen with no mustache and a beard.
•msm^t^-z:,^.^
ABRAHAM UNCOLN X25
picket fence Ld^i C, EnZ!-i i t- '" "'*""? P"****
opposite untiUhey caWtTfctr'"''*' -"''ting-house
with mucTpTte'S^^i XT blTirth: "?""*?"!
style, of » yellow .tone, wi^lfd whUe blSdfta ^^^
wmdows «>d mighty colu„.ns capp^Tth egent^S^uS
whipJ. fwt Stephen paused under the awning of
rounded and did homage to the vellow nilfl Tj!f i.^ u
hel^r^' y°^«f °^^°'" «aid he, "who be you lookin' for
"For Mr Lincoln," said Stephen.
At this the gentlemar sat down on the dirtv tnn «*^r>
and gave Tent to quiet but annoying Uughtef^ "^^ '''^'
I recKon you come to the wrong plaS "
"I was told thiu «,oo k:„ „i>i ?,r .; „
some heat
was told this was his office,'^ said
Stephen, with
frie&d
Whar be you from ? " said the citizen, with
I don't see what that has to do with
it,'
interest,
answered our
M '
it: I I
it ' 1
126
THE CRISIS
'I Wal," said the citizen, critically, " if yon was froi^
Philadelphy or Boston, you might stand acquitted."
Stephen was on the point of claiming Boston, but
wisely hesitated.
" I m from St. Louis, with a message for Mr. Lincoln,"
he replied.
" Ye talk like ye was from down East," said the citizen,
who seemed in the humor for conversation. " I reckon
* old Abe's * too busy to see you. Say, young man, did
you ever hear of Stephen Arnold Douglas, ali<u the T ittle
Giant, alias the Idol of our State, sir ? "
This was too much for Stephen, who left the citizen
without the compliment of a farewell. Continuing around
the square, inquiring for Mr. Lincoln's house, he pres-
ently got beyond the stores and burning pavements on
to a plank walk, under great shade trees, and past old
brick mansions set well back from the street. At length
he paused in front of a wooden house of a dirty grayish
brown, too high for its length and breadth, with tall
shutters of the same color, and a picket fence on top of
the retaining wall which lifted the yard above the plank
walk. It was an ugly house, surely. But an ugly house
may look beautiful when surrounded by sucn heavy trees
as this was. Their shade was the most inviting thing
Stephen had seen. A boy of sixteen or so was swinging
on the gate, plainly a very mischievous boy, with a round,
laughing, sunburned face and bright eyes. In front of the
gate was a shabby carriage with top and side curtaLos,
hitched to a big bay hor&e.
" Can you tell me where Mr. Lincoln lives ? " inquired
Stephen.
" Well, I guess," said the boy. « I'm his son, and he
lives right here when he's at home. But that hasn't been
often lately."
"Where is he?" asked Stephen, beginning to realize
the purport of his conversations with citizens.
Young Mr. Lincoln mentioned the name of a small
town in the northern part of the state, where he said his
father would stop that night. He told Stephen thai he
'¥,'•
-^:mw
W2^','
ABRAHAM LINCOLN jgT
Moureion with the W bay hSree St^^^/ TiS ^"K
and had waited an hour for th^ BboSLir*™ '""?"'
Sin'Se^'^S'int .^n^ eUgeTXprS:: ^
smoke, and p^ntlT tecame^ T^^^ '" '"* ■>"«* «»<»
to n»^h thaLrt„':tT4h ne5T^;°r« '«'•
Lincoln. ^ ^^ *° """^ «•»« this man
Lil^l^'ot-t': "'" *"*' """''• "«'""' of •"» opposing the
him. B„t^teveDo!glaa,t':i?;-„«'^%^y» -« *»"«
His companion guffawed. ^ ^'
no"5Sn"*^^a1''d'tr™a':^r"^r» ■"»'* '»->
:roit!"»,^rsd"5K-f^ ""
themeelvea. bSL' Ab?»^n°f T'""*?"'''* "»" of
tot of this week I 5en^^„\Tdl&"eS drntf, '''!?
here ma caboose, while Dong wen "^ralrSjfS ""^
S!Sii
128
THE CRISIS
station and the ragged town. The baggage man told him
that Mr. Lincoln was at the tayern.
That tavern I Will words describe the impression it
made on a certain young man from Boston ! It was long
and low and ramshackly, and hot that night as the inside
of a brick-kiln. As he drew near it on the single plank
walk over the black prairie-mud, he saw countrymen
and politicians swarming its narrow porch and narrower
hall. Discussions in all keys were in progress, and it
was with vast difficulty that our distracted young man
pushed through and found the landlord. This personage
was the coolest of the lot. Confusion was but food for
his smilds, importunity but increased his suavity. And
of the seeming hundreds that pressed him, he knew and
utilized the Christian name of all. From behind a corner
of the bar he held them all at bay, and sent them to quar-
ters like the old campaigner he was.
" Now, Ben, tain't no use gettin' mad. You, and Josh-
way, an' Will, an' Sam, an' the Cap'n, an' the four Beaver
brothers, will all sleep In number ten. What's that,
Franklin ? No, sirree, the Honerable Abe, and Mister
Hill, and Jedge Oglesby is sleepin' in seven." The smell
of perspiration was stifling as Stephen pushed up to the
master of the situation. " What's that ? Supper, young
man ? Ain't you had no supper ? Gosh, I reckon if you
can fight your way to the ainin' room, the gak'll give
you some pork and a cup of coffee."
After a preliminary scuffle with a drunken countryman
in mud-caJced boots, Mr. Brice presently reached the
long table in the dining-room. A sense of humor not
quite extinct made him smile as he devoured pork chops
and greasy potatoes and heavy apple pie. As he was
finishing the pie, he became aware of the tavern keeper
standing over him.
" Are you one of them flip Chicagy reporters ? " asked
that worthy, with a suspicious eye on Stephen's clothes.
Our friend denied this.
*^ You didn't talk jest like 'em. Guess
to-night.
you'
m i
ABRAHAM LINCOLN jgO
-I reckon," was the cheerful reply "Nnmh-, f
There ain't nobody in there bnf R^rT 'nn- ™'*®', ^°-
four Beaver brothL, an' tSee L^e nfe ""1 ^
down for ye next the north window/'* " ^""^ * ^*^^"
him he was emboCTt7sav . - *''" contemplating
« SS? ^'*' il*?°®^" 8^o°e *o bed ? "
tori7rd>,:f„f the' R^^ubrnM^?^ % ">«• «-»•
novel, at anv r«t« h1 »i,i. l1 ? ""^^ '" Illinois wore
seen inlS.;t«t " """'^" °* <*"»'" '«'""»™ he 1««1
with the Je^dge and J« M^nTC!S»'-'"" ?f °°''""'
^^X'V^ -b^deitd'^/t^r'aptl^^^;
"Kok ouftL"T"/- ^^"P^^" «k«d Stephen.
no^';'i2?„'ttk"fte''s.sit^- ^^- "'"•'
story. AH the bedroom "oorf were fl^n^o™" °*~'"'
one, on which the number 7 w2 inSrited ^^ Tl "^J^P'
came burets of upr™.rio„s la„ghTera'^|- a euTmo^JS
pemg occupied. There was a very inhospitable-looking ^
'•1
m
180
THE CRISIS
two shake-downs, and four Windsor chairs in more or less
state of dilapidation — all occupied likewise. A country
glass lamp was balnnced on a rough shelf, and under it a
young man sat absorbed in making notes, and apparently
oblivious to the noise around him. Every gentleman in
the room was collarless, coatless, tieless, and vestless.
Some were engaged in fighting gnats and June bugs, while
others battled with mosquitoes — all save the young man
who wrote, he being wholly indifferent.
Stephen picked out the homeliest man in the room.
There was no mistaking him. And, instead of a discus-
sion of the campaign with the other gentlemen, Mr. Lin-
coln was defending — what do you think? Mr. Lincoln
was defending an occasional and judicious use of swear
words.
"Judge," said he, "you do an almighty lot of cuss-
ing in your speeches, and perhaps it ain't a bad way to
keep things stirred up."
" Well, said the Judge, " a fellow will rip out some-
thing once in a while before he has time to shut it off."
Mr. Lincoln passed his fingers through his tousled hair.
His thick lower lip crept over in front of the upper one.
A gleam stirred in the deep-set gray eyes.
" Boys," he asked, " did I ever tell you about Sam'l, the
old Quaker's apprentice ? "
There was a chorus of " No's " and " Go ahead, Abe I "
The young man who was writing dropped his pencil. As
for Stephen, this long, uncouth man of the plains was
beginning to puzzle him. The face, with its crude fea-
tures and deep furrows, relaxed into intense soberness.
And Mr. Lincoln began his story with a slow earnestness
that was trulj startling, considering the subject.
" This apprentice. Judge, was just such an incurable as
you." (Laughter.) "And Sam'l, when he wanted to, could
get out as many cusses in a second as his anvil shot sparks.
And the old man used to wrastle with him nights and
speak about punishment, and pray for him in meeting.
But it didn't do any good. When anything went wrong,
Sam'l had an appropriate word for the occasion. One
H^
vd^- '*'!
\.k-,j,
S^
L.^C
'JMiEX*
ABRAHAM LINCOLN
131
day the old man got an inspiration when he was scratnh
ing around in the dirt for J^ odd-sized iron ^'
Sam I,' says he, ' I want thee.'
bia ^^''Ir"^' V"^ ^?u "^ **^*' °^^ ™«" »*«°<J»ng over a
big rat hole, where the rats came out to feetf on the
"'Sam'],' says he, ♦ fetch the tongs.'
"Sam'l fetched the tongs.
nnni^.r* l'*".'^'' ^^^ *% °'^ "*"' '^hou wilt sit here
until thou hast a rat. Never mind thy dinner And
when thou hast him, if I hear thee swear, thou wilt sit
here until thou hast another. Dost thou mind " '^
Here Mr. Lincoln seized two cotton umbrelias, rasped
sat hunched over an imaginary rat hole, for all the world
iil f^^'!;^^ §"*^'' apprentice. And this was a c^i-
date for the Senate of the United States, who on the
DouglI7^ ^"^ """"^ '" ^'^**' *^" '""^^'^^d »»d polished
H«;^ T "'" ]^'* Lincoln continued, "that was on a Mon-
day, I reckon and the boys a-shouting to have their
horses shod. Maybe you think they didn't have some fun
with Sam 1. But Sam'l sat there, and sat there, and sat
there, and after a while the old man puUed out wL d^nn^!
pail. Sam 1 never opened his mouth. First thing you
know «i,^ went the tongs." Mr. Lincoln turned gfavelv
around. " What do you reckon Sam'l said. Judge r'^
fi, S^• ?r^®; ^* "^ndom, summoned up a good one, to
the delight of the audience. *^ '
"Judge," said Mr. Lincoln, with solemnity, «I reckon
tfXT^u ^"" ? ^''"' '^'^' S^"^'l ««^«r liid a word"
and the old man kept on eating his dinner. One o'clock
came and the folks began to drop in again, but Sam^he
It dZ ikT^ towards night the boys collected 'roind
H« M 1 ,^J '""^""m ^^""'^ ^'""^ «^ interested. Sam'l,
mtl. ^ ''S^'^ -P- . ^^'^ ^'- ^^°««1^ bent forwa^ a
PwTh/'' 'T ^"", *° * 1^"^' d^'^^li^g whisper
nn fS *?^ ^T ^"'''^' hpre come the whiskers peeping
up, then the pink eyes a-blinking at the forge, then-- P
132
THE CE18IS
Suddenly he brought the umbrellas together with a
xynftftlr
"♦By God,' yells Saml, ♦ I have thee at last I ' "
A.mid the shouts, Mr. Lincoln stood up, his long body
swk/ing to and fro as he lifted high the improvised tongs.
They heard a terrified squeal, and there was the rat squirm-
ing and wriggling, — it seemed before their very eyes.
And Stephen forgot the country tavern, the country politi-
cian, and was transported straightway into the Quaker's
smithy.
CHAPTER in
IN WHICH STEPHEN LEARNS SOMETHING
It was Mr. Lincoln who brought him back. The
astonishing candidate for the Senate had sunk into his
chwr, his face relaxed into sadness save for the sparkle
lurking m the eyes. So he sat, immobUe, until the
laughter had died down to silence. Then he turned to
Stephen.
" Sonny," he said, »' did you want to see ; ?"
Stephen was determined to be affable and kind, and
(shall we say it?) he would not make Mr. Lincoln uncom-
fortable either by a superiority of English or the certain
frigidity of manner which people in the West said he had.
i5ut he tried to ima^e a Massachusetts senator, Mr. Sum-
ner, for instance, going through the rat story, and couldn't.
Somehow, Massachusetts senators hadn't this gift. And
yet he was not quite sure that it wasn't a fetching gift.
Stephen did not quite Uke to be called " Sonny." But he
looked into two gray eves, and at the face, and something
cunous happened to him. How was he to know that
thousands of his countrymen were to experience the same
sensation?
"Sonny," said Mr. Lincoln again, "did you want to see
me f
"Yes, sir." Stephen wondered at the "sir." It had
been involuntary. He drew from his inner pocket the
envelope which the Judge had given him.
Mr. Lincoln ripped it open. A document fell out, and
a letter. He put the document in his tall hat, which was
upside down on the floor. As he got deeper into the
letter, he pursed his mouth, and the lines of his face deep-
ened in a anilew Then he looked
188
up, grave again.
134
THE CRISIS
"Judge Whipple told you to run till you found me, did
Le,Mr.Brice?*'
" Yes, sir."
" Is the Judge the sdme old criss-cross, contrary, violent
fool that he always was?"
Providence put an answer in Stephen's mouth.
" He's been very good to me, Mr. Lincoln."
Mr. Lincoln broke into laughter.
"Why, he's the biggest-hearted man I know. You
know him, Oglesby, — Silas Whipple. But a man has to
be a Daniel or a General Putnam to venture into that den
of his. There's only one man in the world who can beard
Silas, and he's the finest states-right Southern gentleman
vou ever saw. I mean Colonel Carvel. You've heard of
him, Oglesby. Don't they quarrel once in a while, Mr.
Brice ? '
"They ^'.o have occasional argimients," said Stephen,
amused.*
" Arguments ! " cried Mr. Lincoln ; " well, I couldn't
come as near to fighting every day and stand it. If my
dog and Bill's dog across the street walked around each
other and growled for half a day, and then lay down
together, as Carvel and Whipple do, by Jing, I'd put
pepper on their noses — "
" I reckon Colonel Carvel isn't a fighting man," said
some one, at random.
Strangely enough, Stephen was seized with a desire to
vindicate the Colonel's courage. Both Mr. Lincoln and
Judge Oglesby forestalled him.
"Not a fighting man I " exclaimed the Judge. " Why,
the other day — '
" Now, Oglesby," put in Mr. Lincoln, " I wanted to tell
that story."
Stephen had heard it, and so have we. But Mr. Lin-
coln's imitation o£ the Colonel's drawl brought him a
pang like homesickness.
" * No, suh, I didn't intend to shoot. Not if he had gone
off straight. But he wriggled and twisted like a rattle-
snake, and I just couldn't resist, suh. Then I sent my
STEPHEN LEARNS SOMETHING
135
nigger Ephum to tell him not to let me catch sight of him
'round the Planters' House. Yes, suh, that's what he
was. One of these damned Yankee» who come South and
go into nigger-deals and politics.' "
Mr. Lincoln glanced at Stephen, and then again at the
Judge's letter. He took up his silk hat and thrust that,
too, into the worn lining, which was already filled with
papers. He clapped the hat on his head, and buttoned
on his collar.
" I reckon I'll go for a walk, boys," h^ said, "and clear
my head, so as to be ready for tfie Little Giant to-morrow
at Freeport. Mr. Brice, do you feel like walking ? "
Stephen, taken aback, said that he did.
"Now, Abe, this is just durned foolishness," one of
the gentlemen expostulated. "We want to know if
you're going to ask Douglas that question."
"If you do, you kill yourself, Lincoln," said another,
whom Stephen afterwards learned was Mr. Medill, pro-
prietor of the great Pre%» and ISihune.
" I guess I'll risk it, Joe," si.id Mr. Lincoln, gravely.
Suddenly comes the quiver about the comers of his mouth,
and the gray eyes respond. " Boys," said he, " did you
ever hear the story of farmer Bell, down in Egypt? I'll
tell it to you, boys, and then perhaps you'll know why
I'll ask Judge Douglas that question. Farmer Bell had
the prize Bartlett pear tree, and the prettiest gal in that
section. And he thought about the same of each of 'em.
All the boys were after Sue Bell. But there was only
one who had any chance of getting her, and his name was
Jim Rickets. Jim was the nand^mest man in that sec-
tion. He's been hung since. But Jim had a good deal
out of life, — all the appetites, and some of the gratifica-
tions. He liked Sue, and he liked a luscious Bartlett.
And he intended to have both. And it just so happened
that that prize pear tree had a whopper on that year, and
old man Bell couldn't talk of anything else.
" Now there was an uely galoot whose name isn't worth
mentioning. He knew he wasn't in any way fit for«Sue,
and he liked pears about as well as Jim Rickets. Well,
tSd
THE CRISIS
falooi;
Susan
one night here comes Jim alone the road wh,..*ij„«
to court Susan, and there was the u Jly IS aT^w ^'
on the bank under the pear tree. J?m^ wt ^iTxed urf
and he says to the galoot, * Let's have Tthrow ' Now
jfm fetehed down ?>. V^^ ^^ ^""^ ^'"^ *h« ^^^ shot.
str^llAd nff f ?r u*^^ ^'?. Pf*^' «f°* his teeth in it, and
fha^rtl^^^^^^^^^^ r'^To?
theoldman. ' WhaV areyou lere for ? ' ±^^^^
7^eJAnZ\^dst^l^^- ^orTe\taA
.rr^n,^^^^^^ boots
"Yoa see," coqt nued Mr. Lincoln, "voTaae th.
tnow that Jin. Rioketa wa.n't to b^ tSdwfth
and laughed again, a little fainter. Then the I^dt«
looked as solemn as his title. ''"'^^®
« v7'?iil°* ^^r *^** h«- " You commit suicide "
"a^Jseht sL*^l'''f ^ '^P^^' ^^'" said Mr M^ill,
and light Stephen A. Douglas here and now Thia i«n'f
anymcmc. Do you know who he is ? " ^^^^nt
m.r. -IC l^ -^"f ''>id Mr. Lincoln, amiably. « He's a
man wit^ tens of thousands of blind follower* It's mv
BTthi« r^^l/^r "^*^r ^^^^ followTrr,eJ' ^
fh«vJ T •""^^*^P^^" ™ burning to know the question
^ ofh^r r'.^ ^^'^'^ *^ ^^ *^« ^i"^« Giant! and why
hi^rtln^,^ S^L-^'^-'^r- rfi" w^teiTi
:mrHmi>.:m-,
STEPHEN LEABNS SOMETHING 137
heard somebody say : — * ^® ^® returned he
"If that ain't just like Ah« v^ ^
out of his stocking when h« wlo • ^^^^^ ^ P^l a flea
with Shields, an<f now he's™ K*^ -Jk^?^* *^»* d"el
debate with the smartest Zn'^I-^^ ^y^ ^^^le a
there's heaps of JhinThe LZV"^. ^^'' '^^^^'y- And
"Reckon we haWf „^?^ to discuss with us."
another, halfTaugCrha&rueZ'^ %t ^^^ ^^''^ ^^^^
Abe won't stand " ^'"*"'"®*"^- " There's some things
waXughlrJo^^^^^^^^ threading his
lay his hand on the shoufc/S^^ "* T^ P^^«4 to
rough sally of a third ^makf the nfe'' *^^ "'Pj^^'^^ *« «
faws. But none hnri f i,^ * -. P^**'® * tumult of euf-
Stephen caughru^with hfm^^^ f.^r^.l^^^ ^^°^- wiel
he was talkiSg ea?nlstly to Mr Hm A*^^ '°"°*'^ ^^'^^^
ofthePrmanrf^WW And'JhifV^^ ^"""."fi^ '«P«rter
subject ? The red comet in th« t ^^u"* ^^^^ ^hink wm the
kept pace in siTencS^ wfth Mr T -^ *?^* '^^S^^*' S^^Phen
shock in store for hS,Th^^^°v^^ «t"^««' another
this flat-boatman! wW h« h^^^^'f P^'".^"' ^^^ postmaster!
edge of the Ne^ cX^'w^^,^,^t««dited
strangetpsay,Mr.Bter/L^^^^ And
lem of theth^ee b««i^^^^^^^ "^"'^ ^«" «l"«idate the prob-
?he®SThenTlf '• ^'' «^" ^^"^^^^ted.
wUchM^^liitV:^^^^^^^^^^ «^07«^ a few of
^^^fitti;h?t^xJF^^^^^^^^
Crusoe's island What a flflo^'' ''r*^^ ^^ ««*>»»««»»
^w adhere he u, ThS-e tre nnrn,™^ '° ,* "^^^^ « *<>
works for that matter tLf^„f ""^^ "°^^^«' «' ancient
" There is fW '• *! P"* ^^^ down anywhere "
t^ earth, and coJi'l^^rS^^rl,!: ^^^tt^'
188
THE CRISIS
and could suddenly behold the earth, the sea, and the
vault of heaven — ' "
" But you — you impostor," cried Mr. Lincoln, inter-
rupting, "you're giving us Humboldt's Cosmos."
Mr. Hill owned up, laughing.
It is remarkable how soon we accustom ourselves to a
strange situation. And to Stephen it was no less strange
to be walking over a muddy road of the prairie wi;h this
most singular man and a newspaper correspondent, than
it might have been to the sub-terrestrial inhabitant to
emerge on the earth's surface. Stephen's mind was in
the process of a chemical change : Suddenly it seemed to
him as if he had known this tall Illinoisan always. The
whim of the sena^rial candidate in choosing him for a
companion he did not then try to account for.
"Come, Mr. Stephen," said Mr. Lincoln, presently,
" where do you hail from ? "
" Boston," said Stephen.
"No!" said Mr. Lincoln, incredulously. "And how
does it happen that you come to me with a message from
a rank Abolitionist lawyer in St. Louis ? "
" Is the Judge a friend of yours, sir ? " Stephen asked.
" What I " exclaimed Mr. Lincoln, " didn't he tell vou
he was?" ^
"He said nothing at all, sir, except to tell me to
travel until I found you."
" I call the Judge a friend of mine," said Mr. Lincoln.
" He may not claim me because I do not believe in putting
all slave-owners to the sword."
" I do not think that Judge Whipple is precisely an
Abolitionist, sir."
" What I And how do you feel, Mr. Stephen ? "
Stephen replied in figures. It was rare with him, and
he must have caught it from Mr. Lincoln.
"I am not for ripping out the dam suddenly, sir.
That would drown the nation. I believe that the water
can be drained off in some other way."
Mr. Lincoln's direct answer to this was to give Stephen
a stinging slap between the shouldfer-blades.
--^"js?:-t:-^
STEPHEN LEARNS SOMETHING 139
" God bless the boy I " he cried « h<> i«. xi. . .
out. Bob, take that^dL™ foTth; i-r". ^ T^ H
»»ny» otepben blurted out "T t tu Ui.
were an Abolitionist, Mr. iScoln'' thought you
but whether slavery shall stay where if il «^tl ^ I^^
that it rf... „«t'';'Sti. ^BlJtfteC^^Sf '^r-LI
« Mr 1S1\** '""^'? '«"«' '™» «■« lining
aH^,,. r *<^°"'"ow and hear the debate?"
Bat n^- I T "i,^' y""'"* '"™ '''"lined with thanks
He Jai/hir\^T* ^ I-mcoln guessed the cause,
laughed ^ '''' *^^ y°^8^ °^*^'« «h«»^der, and
sipTen'Sd" ''"^'°«^ °' "^** *^« J"^« -iU -y-"
nol* i'fraif nf T^ °" *^,S "^"i^^f^'" ^id Mr. Lincoln. « Fm
i^fe iLTa sl^r;I H« ^ew forth from the inexhaus^
« Thiit » P ^i paper, and began to write.
mm« ;! ' • ^^ ^o' ^^®° ^® ^«i finished, "a friend of
rd ti.XXInfr*''''*'" '"« -™W. »dt-U
110
THE CRISIS
And this ia what he had written : —
« I have borrowed Steve for a day or two, and goarantee to
return him a good Republican. in»»n«» u>
"A. LiirooLir."
RJii."??^ remarking that this was the first time Mr.
Bnce had been called " Steve " and had not resented it.
Tin^f„ K ™^«°»barra8sed. He tried to thank Mr.
Tk?.. *A^2^i**^^ gentleman's quizzical look cut him
t" l °** *^® °®** remark made him easp.
" Look here, Steve," said he, "you know a parlor from
LtTeT^?^?t r'^'^* ""^ ^^^'^^"^ ^' -^^- ^
rooWhU moth'!''""''"'^' "^' '^ "^"^ ''^^' *^ «»«
Jiirn**®" ^?y T^^^' ^^°^°^°' ^»*^ J»» characteristic
smile, " vou thought that you wouldn't pick me out of a
bunch of horses to race with the Senator."
^^
CHAPTER IV
If
THE QnBsnoN
Many times since Abraham Lincoln has been called to
that mansion which God has reserved for the patriots
who have served Him also, Stephen Brice has thoSffht of
that steaming night m the low^eUed room of the ooun-
try tavern, reeking with the smell of coarse food and hot
humanitv. He remembers vividly how at first his eorire
rose, and recalls how gradually there crept over Eim a
forgetfulness of the squaUdity and discomfort. Then
came a space gray with puzilmg wonder. Then the
dawning of a worship for a very ugly man in a rumpled
and ill-m^Je coet. "*"i'*cu
You wUl perceive that there was hope for Stephen. On
his shake-down that night, obUvious to the snores of his
coiManions and the droning of the insects, he lay awake.
And before his eyes was that strange, marked face, with
its deep hues that blended both humor and sadness there.
It was homely, and yet Stephen found himself reflecting
that honesty wfts just as homely, and plain truth. And
yet both were b^utiful to those who had learned to love
them. Just so this Mr. Lincoln.
He fell asleep wondering why Judge Whipple had sent
It was in accord with nature that reaction came with
the mommg. Such a morning, and such a place I
He was awakened, shivering, by the beat of rain on the
roof, and stumbhng over the prostrate forms of the four
Beaver brothers, reached the window. Clouds fiUed the
sky, and Joshway, whose pallet was under the sUL was
m a blessed state of moisture.
No wonder some of his enthusiasm had trickled away I
Ml '
142
THE CRISIS
■3
II
He made his toilet in the wet under the pump outdde,
where he had to wait his turn. And he rather wished he
were ^omg back to St. Louis. He had an early breakfast
of fried eggs and underdone bacon, and c( ffee which
made him pine for Hester's. The dishes were neither too
clean nor too plentiful, bemg doused in water as soon as
ever they were out of use.
But after breakfast the sun came out, and a crowd col-
lected around the tavern, although the air was chill and
<Je muck deep in the street. Stephen caught glimpses of
Mr. Lincoln towering above the knots of country politi-
cians who surrounded him, and every once in a while a knot
would double up with laughter. There was no sign that
the senatorial aspirant took the situation seriously; that
the commg struggle rith his skilful antagonist was
weighing him down in the least. Stephen held aloof
from t^ groups, thinking that Mr. Lincoln had forgotten
him. He decided to leave for St. Louis on the morning
tram, and was even pushing toward the tavern entrance
with his bag in his hand, when he was met by Mr. Hill.
" I nad about given you up, Mr. Brice," he said. " Mr.
Lincoln asked me to get hold of you, and brine you to
him alive or dead."
Accordingly Stephen was led to the station, where a
long tram of twelve cars was pulled up, covered with
m^ and bunting. On entering one of these, he per-
ceived Mr. Lincoln sprawled (he could think of no other
word to fit the attitude) on a seat next the window, and
next him was Mr. Medill of the Pre»» and Tribune. The
seat just in front was reserved for Mr. Hill, who was to
make any notes necessary. Mr. Lincoln looked up. His
appearance was even less attractive than the night before,
as he had on a dirty gray linen duster.
"I thought you'd got loose, Steve," he said, holding out
his hand. "Glad to see you. Just you sit down there
next to Bob, where I can talk to you.'^
Stephen sat down, diffident, for he knew that there were
others in that train who would give ten years of their lives
lor that seat.
THE QUESTION
143
I ve taken a shine t. this Bostonian, Joe/' said Mr.
Lincoln to Mr. MediU " WeVe got to catch 'em young
to do anything with 'em, you know. Now, Steve iust
give me a notion how politics are over in St. Louis. What
do they think of our new Republican party? Too bran
new for old St. Louis, eh?" ^ ^ ^°
1, Ji®?^*"' «a^ expostulation in Mr. Medill's eyes, and
hesitated. And 5lr. Lincoln seemed to feel ^diU's
i®w m^' ** ^y "^^""^^ telepathy. But he said : -
o.J^,t 1 " """^ ^ *^** ^'"^^ °****«' ^**e'' Joe^ when the
cars srart.
Naturally, Stephen began uneasily. But under the
self^'Tefllf^.'w^S^^^^^ ^' thawkand forgot hii^!
self. He felt that this man was not one to feign an inter-
est. The shouts of the people on the little platform
w^Mt^lold *°°°^°*' ^^ *^« engine staggered off
"I reckon St. Louis is a nest of Southern Democrats,"
Mr. Lincohi remarked, « and not much opposition. "
"There are quite a few Old Line Whigs, sir," venti;red
otepnen, smiling.
" Jo?»" 8wd Mr. Lincoln, « did you ever hear Warfield's
definition of an Old Line Whijr ? '^
Mr. Medill had not.
"A man who takes his toddy regularly, and votes the Dem-
ocratic ticket occasionally, and who wears ruffled shirts."
Both of these gentlemen laughed, and two more in the
seat behind, who had an ear to the conversation.
"But, sir," said Stephen, seeing that he was expected
to go on, « I thmk that the Republican party will Lther
a considerable strength there in another year or two? We
?J® *„ ^^^H""?*^ ^^"^ powerful leaders in Mr. Blair and
others (Mr. Lincoln nodded at the name). « We are get-
ting an ever increasing population from New England,
"*°®A,°\^°I'"? ""^^ "^^^ will take kindly to the new
Pi,"^* And then he added, thinking of his pilgrimage
the Sunday before : " South St. Louis is a solW mass oi
t^ermans, who are aU antislavery. But they are very
toreign still, and have all their German institutions."
» I
'if'
144
THE CRISIS
inqJriSg^""" H«ll.?"Mr. Lincoln surprised him by
utJ"* .^^ ^.,M'®^® *^»^ **»«y drill tl»ere."
if ♦>.«!? '^®y, ^^" the «ow easily be turned into soldiers,
if the time should come," said Mr. Lincoln. And hS
added quickly, " I pray that it may not."
Stephen had cause to remember that observation, and
the acumen it showed, lonff afterward. *
The train made sever^ stops, and at each of them
1^^t"LT\^r^\^'^'^ ^' aisles, and pauld^or
a mc«t familiar chat with the senatorial candidate. Many
^H tn h ^\- "'* »PP«*r?»°« ^w the equal in rough-
nws to theirs, his manner if anything waJ more demo-
rSlSr^'* 'wT^ ?^.*^^ *h^« Stephen in them detected
a deference whicli might almost 6e termed a homa^
Ihere were many women among them. Had our friend
been older, he might have known that the presencrof
good women in a political crowd portends 8ome?W.
mnrl -T' ^'T ^J"^^^'^' He was destined to be stfil
more surprised that day.
tnZ^nJ'n^^^ ^*^ ^^^*. ^^,^^ *h«™ th« «l»«"ts of the little
town of Dixon, Mr. Lincoln took off his hat, and produced
tVeTuf^S'udri^^L!^ '""^^°"^'*^ -'^^ ^' p^^' "--
"Now, Joe," said he, "here are the four questions I
mtend to ask Judge Douglas. I am ready for^ou. Tire
Mr M^dlir* "Rnt*?^^''^ *^^"* the others," answered
s/iT. Meam. But I tell you this. If you ask that lu^o
ond one you'll never see thie United Sta4 Senate " """'
I. M^f Kepublican party in this state will have had
a blow from which it can scarcely recover," added Mr.
Judd, chairman of the committee.
Mr. Lincoln did not appear to hear them. His eves
were far away over the wet prairie. ^
nor /ud'd nl^ ?;« ^'«^th' , «»t neither he, nor Medill,
nor Judd, nor Hill guessed at the pregnane v of that
Umted States of Amenca wa? eoneealed in that Question,
wf.'^^^an
THE QUESTION j^
5l-v*',f'".' '■"'^ned intently.
" All riorhf.." ananr».»J
'«i
-*« n^« f asked Mr. Medill, refle^tincr fK- .k
imentof fl,o«*K«--.. ^,,^;*"^'/eneoiing the sheer
wearing your«lf „„?? 1'„d '^^ «*y */ devil are you
time and money on yon? " " "pendmg our
than . 'rrth'«t'"'CtS'e' iSn*'^ 'ST"" 1? «^«' »« <-^^
where to set you^l^^mThe" aAt "ra'telfvl'T
1 m m this camDaiM • tn nafni, n i ^" y°" ^^7
him out of thT'r^-te Ho'ut in ilo"" "tT" ""■ ''^
coantr,' of our,, Joe. Shersick -• ^^ "™ *"
" Br^The™ 'JS .!'"^r.?y ""> "olamations.
he got hT teh .^iLTt **'• "*•*"'• " ««n « ever
Whfre do you ^i i^^' """^ ^' ff<" t" "how for it?
Mr. Lincoln smiled wearily.
" P^H"*®!! 'f «^«n'" he answered simply
"Good Lord I ' said Mr. Judd. ^^•
Mr. Medill gulped.
A^'
"ill
146
THE CRISIS
♦' You mean to say, >w the candidate of the Ilepublican
party, you don't care whether you get to the Senate ? "
"Not if I can send Steve Douglas there with his wines
broken, was the calm reply.
, "^^"^^^^ ^® ^°®* answer ye», that slavery can be ex-
eluded?^' said Mr. Judd.
"Then," said Mr. Lincoln, "then Douglas loses the
vote of the great slave-holders, the vote of the soUd
bouth, that he has been fostering ever since he has had
i .!.,**^°Ji..*® ^^ President. Without the solid South the
Little Giant will never live in the White House. And
unless I m mightily mistaken, Steve Douglas has had his
eye as far ahead as 1860 for some time."
AnotJier silence followed these words. There was a
stout man standing in the aisle, and he spav deftly out
of the open window.
« v" y?? "**y ^'"? ^*®^® Douglas, Abe," said he, gloomily,
but the gun will kick you over the bluff."
" Don't worry about me, Ed," said Mr. LinccS. « I'm
not worth it."
In a wave of comprehension the significance of all this
was revealed to Stephen Brice. The grim humor, the
sagacious statesmanship, and (best of all) the superb self-
sacnfice o' it, struck him suddenly. I think it was in
that hour that he realized the full extent of the wisdom
he was near, which was like unto Solomon's.
Shame surged in Stephen's face that he should have
misjudged him. He had come to patronize. He had
remained to worship. And in after years, when he
thought of this new vital force which became part of him
that day, it was in the terms of Emerson: "Pythagoras
was misunderstood, and Socrates, and Jesus, and Luther,
and Copernicus, and Galileo, and Newton, and every pure
and wise spirit that ever took flesh. To be irreat is to be
misunderstood."
How many have conversed with Lincoln before and
since, and ktew him not I
If an outward and visible sign of Mr. Lincoln's great-
ness were ncbded, — he had chosen to spsak to them in
^■^^ :'fd.i
' .4 :>S.- .
■t'*'''m''^:^..^
'f-
?-'^^m^W^iaSD'^l.^\^
^^"':Pi^:'-. J^^^yi:
THE QUESTION I47
rone otter th«. Stephen A. Dougui, the Sy^Jeor
tile iJ';:L«'&fLrnas "ATtSi^r ™'?
Susan from being Mr. Rickets' bride.
theXXurie:st"rord:j^?irterr/
an iKdThr£.S;%?'""'^ They wiU not budge bin.
Finally Mr. Lincoln took the scrap of Dane- whiot, «oo
rreeport. In the distance, bands could be heard nlRvina.
and along the track, line upon line of men and wS
"Bob," said Mr. Lincoln, "be sure you set that riol,.
in your notes. And, Steve, you sUcrdcT to me ^d
AU thstsSS?' ""'" P""""* ""• """O" and all." '^'
._ u "•»' otephen saw was s regular dav-csr on a siH«
track. A bras, cannon was on the^der JtSrf Lindlt
CHAPTER V
THE CRISIS
Stephen A. Douglas, called the Little Giant on
account of his intoUect, was a type of man of which our
race has had some notable examples, although they are not
characteristic. Capable of sacrifice to their country, per-
sonal ambition is, nevertheless, the mainspring of their
actions. They must either be before the public, or else
unhappy This trait gives them a large theatrical strain,
and sometimes brands them as adventurers. Their abilitv
saves them from being demagogues.
In the case of Douglas, he had deliberately renewed
some years before the agitation on the spread of slavery, by
setting forth a doctrine of extreme cleverness. This doc-
trine, like many others of its kind, seemed at first sight to
be the balm it pretended, mstead of an irritant, as it really
was. It was calculated to deceive all except thinking
men, and to silence all save a merciless logician. And this
merciless logician, who was heaven-sent in time of need,
was Abraham Lincoln.
w^'*^?!?"^^*?:'!** * J^'Srgler, a political prestidigitateur.
He did things before the eyes of tlie Senate and the nation.
His l»lra for the healing of the nation's wounds was a
patent medicine so cleverly concocted that experte alone
could show what was in it. So abstruse and tested were
some of Mr. Douglas's doctrines that a genius alone miffht
put them into simple words, for the common people.
ihe great panacea for the slavery trouble put forth bv
Mr. Douglas at that time was briefly this : that the peo-
ple of the new territories should decide for themselves,
subject to the Constitution, whether they should have
slavery or not, and also decide for themselyeg all other
148
THE CRISIS j^^
mi.ht bring with'telTtheTltrlfpleS ""'''^
to his immortal honor^bTu said thrthf^K"™""/' ""•
not what he does" 1 inn^fi a ^*™' ^^d. He knows
and th.^wWa'Sy intone"""'"' *' ""•««' «'"•
t »"•! to- =ari„i«; uf ner ohmate. The rain had ceaLd,
100
THE CRISIS
and quickly was come out of the northwest a boisterous
wind, chilled by the lakes and scented by the hemlocks
of the Minnesota forests. The sun smiled and frowned.
Clouds hurried in the s^y, mocking the human hubbub
below. Cheering thousands pressed about the station as
Mr. Lincoln's train arrived. They hemmed him in his
triumphal passage under the great arching trees to the
new Brewster House. The Chief Marshal and his aides,
great men before, were r denly immortal. The county
delegations fell into then proper precedence like minis-
ters at a state dinner. '* We have faith in Abraham, Yet
another CowUjf for tht Bail-apliUer, Abe the Giant-killer"
— so the banners read. Here, much bedecked, was the
Galena Lincoln Clvi, part of Joe Davies's shipment.
Fifes skirled, and drums throbbed, and the stars and
stripes snaoped in the breeze. And here was a delega-
tion headed by fifty sturdy ladies on horseback, at whom
Stephen gaped like a countryman. Then came carryalls
of all ages and degrees, wagons from this county and that
couiri;y, giddily draped, drawn by horses from one to six,
or by mules, their inscriptions addressing their senatorial
candidate in all degrees of familiarity, but not contempt.
What they seemed proudest of was that he had been a
rail-splitter, for nearly all bore a fence-rail.
But stay, what is this wagon with the high sapling
flagstaff in the middle, and the leaves still on it ?
" Weshoard the Star of Empire takes iU way.
The girlt link on to Lincoln ; their mothers were /or Clay."
Here was glory to blind you, — two and thirty maids in
red sashes and blue liberty caps with white stars. Each
was a state of the Union, and every one of thera was
for Abraham, who called then» his "Basket of Flowers."
Behind them, most touching of all, sat a thirty-third shac-
kled in chains. That was Kansas. Alas, the mien of
Kansas was far from being as sorrowful as the part
demanded, — in spite of her instructions she would smile
at the bovs. But the appealing inscription she bore, " Set
me free I ' was greeted with st-orms of lau^htAr thn h^ldes-
THE CBIMg
m
of the yoimgr men shouting that she was too beautiful to
be free, and some of the old men, to their shame be it said
likewise riiowted. No false embarrassment troubled Kan-
Ta k Z^^J'^^^y P^******- ^"* **»« young men who
had brought their sweethearts to town, and wefe standing
hand m hand with them, for obvioun reasons saw nothing
They scarcelT dared to look at Kansas, and those who dfd
were so loudly rebuked that they turned down the side
streets.
During this part of the day these loving couples, whose
devotion was so patent to the whole w<5ld, were by far
the most absorbing to Stephen. He watched them having
*/S'!' rr*^"'i^.V!\*t^ young women blushing and crying.
Say ! and « Ain't he wicked ? " and the yoSng men get-
ting their ears boxed for certain remarks. He watched
them standing open-mouthed at the booths and side shows,
with hands still locked, or again they were chewing cream
candy m unison. Or he ghmced sidewiae at them, seated
m the open places with the world so far below them that
even the insistent sound of i > fifes and drums rose bat
faintly to their ears.
And perhaps, — we shall boI say positively, — perhaps
Mr. Brice s thoughts w^nt something like this, ** O that
love were so simple a matter to all ! " But graven on his
face was what is called the - Boston scorn." And no scorn
has been known like unto it since the days of Athens.
bo Stephen made the best of his way to the Brewster
House, the elegance and newness of which the citizens of
I'reeport openly boasted. Mr. Lincoln had preceded him
and was even then listening to a few remarks of burning
praise by an honorable prentieman. Mr. Lincoln himself
made a few renmrks, which seemed so simple and rang so
true, and were so free from political rococo and decoration
generally that even the young men forgot their sweet-
hearts to listen. Then Mr. Lincoln went into the hotel,
and the sun slipped under a black cloud.
The lobby was full, and rather dirty, since the supply
of spittoons was so fer behind the demand. Like the fir-
maiaent, it was diviuod into Uttie Dodies which revolved
152
THE CBISIS
;?^^ Jl^f ^*': ^J^*>«" lacked not here euppprters
of the Little Giant, and discreet farmers of influence in
St^^f """^ countiM who waited to hear the afternoon's
debate ^^f ore deciding. These and others did not hesitate
to tell . the magnificence of the Little Giant's torohlijrht
procewiun the previous evening. Every Dred-Scottite had
carried a torch, and many transparencies, so that the verv
te-°/ -i *l*^ iS™^ ""'^^^ ^^ ^y- The Chief Lictor
had distributed these torches with an unheard^f liberality.
But there lacked not detractors who swore that John Dib-
ble and other Lmcolnites had applied for torches for the
mere pl^ure of carrying them. Since dawn the delega-
tions had been heralded from the house-tope, and wairered
on while they were yet as worms far out on the prairie.
All the morning these continued to come in, and form in
line to march past their particular candidate. The second
?!Tn r®^* ®^*^? ^^y ^^ *^« eveiit of the special over
ttoe tralena road, of sixteen cars and more than a thousand
pairs of sovereign lungs. With b litary precision they
repaired to tl^ Brewster House, u i aEeid of them a
Unner was flung : « Winnebago Jounty for the TaU
fh^ And the Tall Sucker was on the st^ps to^t^
*«?k* ¥^' P^^«^f^ ^^o had arrived he evening before
JT ^"^PS ""^ two and thirty gu ^ had his banners
and his buntin|r, too. The neighborhc d uf Freeport was
?hf ? *S n • of Northern Democrats, ardent supporters of
the lattle Giant if once they could believe that^ did not
mtend to betray them.
^^f^?f i^^^ ^ his bones the coming of a struggle, and
was thrilled. Once he smiled at the thought thS he had
become an active partisan — nay, a worshipper — of the un-
couth Lincoln. Terrible suspicion for a Bostonian, — had
dL!r "*' v^« !JY ■ u^^ ^' ^«'«' »^*«' ^^ « homespun
demagogue / Had he been wise in deciding before he Ld
*n7fl * ^iif S^i!"^ the accomplished DougU whose name
and fame filled the land? Stephen did not waver in his
allegiance. But in his heart there lurked a fear of the
sophisticated Judge and Senator and inss of ths world
THE CRISIS J53
ponaermg in . corner of th/lobby at dinnerSr^ft""
? SM""*^ '•"' '°8"''er to their Candida JjZ,m n!
other poUtilu^ZZ^^onTuI * M™ ,'^°«', »' *'«'
loolc out for this vZI min Get hL . '^.' '"?' ^^ *»
where he can hear " ("t him a Mat on the etand,
ge^^tet'^'n're';^^ ^eZ-heTd"-' 'I"
L^co" ^d tfe,m " a d^nZf * """' ""y. f'ither'Mr.
rr&ed«;SHl^%T-
fiWat-e-Af£x5^'^^-
^an^ WW ^*^«"«*°d people on such a day, aad
quailed. What a man of a&irs it must take to do thlt »
^•-pr^Sn«li^S,"^:^^SH£
membe,«i. .. they doCd fmm ^ f;..n^.^ '5l\''l"-
Ui-t .t wa. no, n«„iy .-political debate, xiie'^ul* ^ a
154
THE CRISIS
%>
■\ {'
nation was here, a great nation stricken with approach-
ing fever. It was not now a case of excise, but ^ exist-
ence.
This son of toil who had driven his family thirty miles
across the prairie, blanketed his tired horses and slept on
the ground the night before, who was willing to stand all
through the afternoon and listen with pathetic eagerness
to this debate, must be moved by a patriotism divine. In
the brewt of that farmer, in the breast of his tired wife
who held her child by the hand, had been instiUed from
birth that sublime fervor which is part of their life who
mhent the Declaration of Independence. Instinctively
these men who had fought and won the West had scented
the danger. With the spirit of their ancestors who had
left their farmp to die on the bridge at Concord, or
follow Ethan Allen into Ticonderoga, these had come to
^reeport. What were three days of bodily discomfort I
What even the loss of part of a cherished crop, if the
nations existence were at stake and their votes miirht
save It ! *
In the midst of that heaving human sea rose the bul-
warks of a wooden stand. But how to reach it? Jim
was evidently a personage. The rough farmers commonly
squeezed a wav for him. And when they did not, he
made it with his big body. As they drew near their
taven, a great surging as of a tidal wave swept them off
their feet. There was a deafening shout, and the stand
rocked on its foundations. Before Stephen could collect
his wite, a fierce battle was raging about him. Abolition-
ist and Democrat, Free Soiler and Squatter Sov, defaced
one another m a rush for the platform. The committee-
men and reporters on top of it rose to its defence. Well
for Stephen that his companion was along. Jim was
recognized and hauled bodily into the fort, and Stephen
aiter hina. The populace were driven off, and when
the excitement died down again, he found himself in
the row behind the reporters. Young Mr. Hill paused
while sharpening his pencU to wave him a friendlv
greetmg. ^
TR£ CRISIS
IW
A personage truly, to be Questioned timidly, to be
appn^ched adWly. Here Indeed was a iW by th^
very look of him, master of himself and of oS^rs^ Bv
J^^fi^l^TaJrlV^r' --"li- •^ren^tr-han'S:
I^^ fKo K ^'^v,''.^}^ "^""^^^ *° *^« c"*^ of the coat
across the broad shoulders. Here Was one to Mft »
jroun«ter into the realm of emulatioZlike a character
i^d fct meT^Fo^™'' °' ^'"^-^^^^ -d ^^^^^^
ana great men. For this was one to be consulted bv the
ITm^^r^' ^ f «^"^.°^ ^^^y *"d power wfth^i^!
netism to compel moods. Since, when he smiled vou
rstj^ed^^v:' ^""™"' ""- "■^^ "- '"™«^ »2"
^^."1. '° H*^" '""^' ""> K"Iped. There w2^ bT^^
one word. How «mnft^, Abraham Lincohi looked hedde
Stephen Arnold Douglas I "ewoe
Had the Lord ever before made and aet over aeainst
^ittn^rT'"^'"""'"'-' Ve..for.„chr5.':
nP.Tw^^"^'"*'^ speaking was in progress, but Stephen
neither heard nor saw until he felt the heavy hand of his
companion on his knee. ^ *
thrJtwn - f^^^^^^i^g.n^^h^^y strange, like fate, between
them two, he was saying. « I recklect twenty-live years
ago when they was first in the Legislatur' together"^ 1
man told me that they was both admitted to fractL in
the & preme Court m '39, on the mme day, sir. Then you
know they was nip an' tuck after the slue young ladv
Li^l/r- . • P^2'^" ^^ ^° ^^^^S'^^ togetlfer, t^e
Little Giant in the Senate, and now. Lv^ thj^rfv^ ;' lu.
greatest set of debates the people of this state '.er h^rd^
?»' ''■pt-j
IM
THE CRI8I8
Yotmgman, th« hand of fate is in thia here, mark ;ny
^ItZl "TJiJi *""•> *°** *^? ^*^«» °^ *^»t vast human
sea were .tilM A man, -lean, angular, with coat-tails
No confidence was there. Stooping forward, Abraham
hS {!* h^^ speak, and Stephen Brice hung his head,
and shuddered. Could this shriU falsetto be tlie same
voice to which he had listened only that morning? Could
this awkward, yellow man with his hands behinS his back
be he whom he had worshipped? Ripples of derUive
i3d^'TT-^"!?^*^?J*"~'?° *^« •'^^d "^"d from ihe
Z^t ww"'^ *^*;i'w "T?* t^« »g«°y oi those moments I
But what was this feehnff that gradually crept over
^? Surprise? Cautiously he raised his^yes. The
hands were commg around to the front. Suddenly one
f ^i *!f ^^"i^''^^*^ ?ha/Pl7 back, with a determined ges-
fveir thaf fil' K^ •'^5°^*'' ™ *'°'°*- ^"* ^"^ be lost
even that, for his mmd was gone on a journey. And
when agam he came to himself and looked upon Abraham
t^hh^T^ "" V * '"•r *~°»^°"»«d- The voice was no
w^K f^i* *^*^' i'* "^"^ °°^ » powerful instrument
which plajred strangely on those who Wrd. Now it rose!
and Mrain It fell into tones so low as to start a stir whkh
spread and spread, like a ripple in a pond, until it broke
on the very edge of that vast audience.
« Can the peopU of a United States Territory, in any law-
ful way.agatmtthe with of any citizen of the UniUd ItcAee
of H^IJ^rV* lj«h™jocably writ in the recording ursok
of History, for better, for worse. Beyond the ret o of
politician, committee, or caucus. But what man amonjrst
those who heard and stirred might say that these minS
thT "".T ^r^°«i°^ eternity Lid t^e Crisis^a^aSon
tlmt 18 the hope of the world? Not you. Judge DouS
who sit there smiling. Consternation is aXaZ? iS
your heart, -but answer that Question if you cS^ Y^
THE CRISIS
tm
your nimble wit ha« helped you out of many « tight cor-
ner. You do not feel the nooee— as vet Yon 3^ «L
gue« that your reply will make or m^r^he fortune, o
CiTnX'thi' ? n r "^° ^° 1-^ SleaJtto Sort
It^Th^i f^ the ship of democracy splitting on the rocks
at Char eston and at Baltimore, when the power of ^n J
name might have steered her safely. ^ ^^ ^°"'
On- K '^ ' T*"** " i*'^" °»»° »^"* whom you despise '
One by one he is taking the screws out nfVj,^ '^^ "
which vou have invented to ruTyour ship LooTC
holc^ tfiem in his hands without mfxTg them, and Jhows
the false construction of its secret parts.
*or Abraham Lincoln dealt with abstruse niiflntinn- i«
f\TpK,°^/°?,^".**^ *°^ marvelled. The simplidtv of
the Bible dwells in those speeches, and they ar?now da^
was that this man who could be a buffoon, w^ose sS
was coarse and whose person unkempt, could p^vS
self a tower of morality and truth.^ That hrtroubled
"^TLfifr.^^"" "°^ «^»°« «^« debate a^F™^
^ft^T ^.°"'' *^°*^ *" **^ quickly to an end And
Sl>f Moderator gave the signal forilr. Lir.coln it wm
Stephen 8 big companion wh5 snapped the stSn 3
voiced the sentiment of those about him. ' ""^
Abe^Id^U i' him.""'' " '^ *"«*^* «^-- I <«<1-'^ think
anJtWna w'tffl^i^P^t" ^- ^°"^^»«' however, seemed
anytlung but baffled as he rose to reply. As he waited
for the cheers which greeted him to die out, hiratti
tude was easy and indifferent, as a public man's"d
eSiV f^^ q?T*'°S ^^^t^ °«* ^ t'«"ble him in the leTt
But for Stephen Brice the Judge stood there stripped of
roff^i^wf "P' *^® ""T P®"°° °^ tJ^« Little Giant was
contra^ctory, ^ was the man himself. His height was
insignificant. But he had the head and shouldera oil
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158
THE CRISIS
lion, and even the lion's roar. What a contrast the ring
of his deep bass to the tentative falsetto of Mr. Lincoln's
opening words ! If Stephen expected the Judge to tremble,
he was greatly disappointed. Mr. Douglas was far from
dismay. As if to show the people how lightly he held
his opponent's warnings, he made them gape by putting
things down Mr. Lincoln's shirt-front and taking them
out of his mouth. But it appeared to Stephen, listening
with all his might, that the Judge was a trifle more on
the defensive than his attitude might lead one to expect.
Was he not among his own Northern Democrats at Free-
port ? And yet it seemed to give him a keen pleasure
to call his hearers " Black Republicans." "Not black,"
came from the crowd again and again, and once a man
shouted, "Couldn't you modify it and call it brown?''
" Not a whit ! " cried the Judge, and dubbed them " Yan-
kees," although himself a Vermonter by birth. He implied
that most of these Black Republicans desired negro
wives.
But quick, — to the Question. How was the Little
Giant, artful in debate as he was, to get over that without
offence to the great South? Very skilfully the Judge
disposed of the first of the interrogations. And then,
save for the gusts of wind rustling the trees, the grove
might have been empty of its thousands, such was the
silence that fell. But tighter and tighter they pressed
against the stand, until it trembled.
Oh, Judge, the time of all artfui men will come at
length ! How were you to foresee a certain day under
the White Dome of the Capitol ? Had your sight been
long, you would have paused before your answer. Had
your sight been long, you would have seen this ugly Lin-
coln bareheaded before the Nation, and you are holding
his hat. Judge Douglas, this act alone has redeemed your
faults. It has given you a nobility of which we did not
suspect you. At the end God gave you strength to be
humble, and so you left the name of a patriot.
Judge, you thought there was a passage between Scylla
and Charybdis which your craftiness might overcome.
<fe*^^-gF%.^VlK:— \\^i
THE CRISIS
159
"It matters not," you cried when you answered the Ques-
tion, "It matters not which way the Supreme Court may
hereafter decide as to the abstract question wheS^^r
slavery may or may not go into a territory under the
Constitution. The people have the lawful means toTntro!
duct or to exclude it as they please, for the reason that
slavery cannot exist a day or an hour anywhere unless k
18 supported by local police regulations."
Judge Douglas, uneasy will you lie to-night, for you
have uttered the Freeport Heresy. ^
J^^^fl "^"'f^^^^J^ ^« t«ld how Stephen Brice, coming
coin OnT'f """'^ *^^'' *^" ^^b^*«' ^«"°d Mr. Lin?
coin. On his knee, m transports of delight, was a small
h^\Ar^ll:i\ ?.^*"^'"^ b^«^^« hi°» was a proud father who
i^ lif^^ *'' '°° ^''°'' *^« ^'^"^^•es in a farm wagon
fn lb! f"" T ^^.f,*"^" on the morrow to enter this efen
in the family Bible. In a corner of the room were sev-
^bouHhrCtTon!^'"'" ^' ^"'"^"^^ ^^^« -«^«^ ^- ^^k
a «m'lL'lf ^" 1 ^ "^^ ?*^P^^"' M^- ^^»n««ln looked up with
Sti creriled.^'^^ ^^ ^^^^^' ^"' ^-^ -^^^ ^^' -—
litUe^mitttfll^^^^^^^^ ^ ^^^^ ^'^^^^^ ^« *h-
time^^^' ^'' ^^"^^^'^''^ h« exclaimed, "you have had no
fi," WK?T**^^'' ^^^ ^^°*^'" Mr. Lincoln replied, "and I
think that I am well repaid. Steve," said hef " unless I'm
TetSyT'^'^"' ^^" '"«" ^ ^^"^« -«- thanyou did
"Yes, sir; I do," said Stephen.
vm! llT' ^^^1'^ '^'^ ^''•. ^Z*^^*^^"' " ^ honest- Didn't
you feel sorry for me last night ? "
Stephen flushed scarlet.
"I never shall again, sir," he said.
Ihe wonderful smile, so ready to come and go, flickered
and went out. In its stead on the strange face ™ Ineffl
I
V
160
THE CRISIS
ble sadness, — the sadness of the world's tragedies. Of
Stephen stoned, of Christ crucified.
" Pray God that you may feel sorry for me again," he
said.
Awed, the child on his lap was still. The politicians
had left the room. Mr. Lincoln had kept Stephen's hand
in his own.
*' I have hopes of you, Stephen," he said. " Do not for-
get me."
Stephen Brice never has. Why was it that he walked
to the station with a heavy heart ? It was a sense of the
man he had left, who had been and was to be. This Lin-
coln of the black loam, who built his neighbor's cabin and
hoed his neighbor's corn, who had been storekeeper and
postmaster and flat-boatman. Who had followed a rough
judge dealing a rough justice around a rough circuit ; who
had rolled a local bully in the dirt ; rescued women from
insult ; tended the bedside of many a sick coward who
feared the Judgment ; told coarse stories on barrels by
candlelight (but these are pure beside the vice of great
cities) ; who addressed political mobs in the raw, swoop-
ing down from the stump and flinging embroilers east and
west. This physician who was one day to tend the sick-
bed of the Nation in her agony ; wiiose large hand was to
be on her feeble pulse, and whose knowledge almost divine
was to perform the miracle of her healing. So was it that
the Physician Himself performed His cures, and when His
work was done, died a Martyr.
Abraham Lincoln died in His name.
CHAPTER VI
ii
i ii
GLENCOE
It was nearly noon when Stephen walked into the office
the next day, dusty and travel-wom and perspirina h!
And hThJ'"^^^' '?" ^'.^ ^^"^' withoSTo/i^g^kome
And he had visions of a quiet dinner with Richter under
the trees at the beer-garden, where he could talk abonJ
ButX'^"'''"^ "^^ ^^^^^^^ «-^ heard of Lincoln?
an? \- ^ ^''"''^ ^^™*'' "^' ^"^ «t the top of the stairs
and his face was more serious than usual" although he
«Toat^"^T?;f Tf >'f ^ ^" ^ «°^^^^ ^^ welcome ^
5t;h:'n!^with\tX^^^ ''^- Lincoln's message." asked
Ja1^5T*° shrugged his shoulders.
Ab, I know not," he answered. «He has ^oha fn
.wT\ The Judge is ill, Stephen. Doctor PoTsavs
that he has worked all his life too hard. The Doc or and
Colonel Carvel tried to get him to go to Glencoe But
he would not budge until Miss Carvel herself comes all the
exclaimed Richter, impulsively, "what wonderful women
rnk'rMLlSr^^s!'-; ' ^°^' '-^ -y ^-^ -^-5
a tofe^f ?nq%"'' '"'' ^'" ^^ " " ^^^^^^^^ ^P^^^d' -
iponnerr said Richter, disgusted, "you don't care"
Stephen laughed, in spite of gimself . ^
a«.i!^ ^^^ T^^ ^I" ^^ answered. And becoming grave
apin, added: "Except on Judge Whipple's afc^Sit
Have you heard from him to-day, Carl?" ^^ ^•
' This morning one of Colonel Carvel's servants came
* 161
t >
. I.
\ ii •
162
THE CRISIS
for his letters. He must be feeling better. I — I pray
that he is better," said Richter, his voice breaking. " He
has been very good to me."
Stephen said nothing. But he had been conscious all
at once of an affection for the Judge of which he had not
suspected himself. That afternoon, on his way home, he
stopped at Carvel & Company's to inquire. Mr. Whipple
was better, so Mr. Hopper said, and added that he "pre-
sumed likely the Colonel would not be in for a week."
It was then Saturday. Eliphalet was actually in the
Colonel's sanctum behind the partition, giving orders to
several clerks at the time. He was so prosperous and
important that he could scarce spare a moment to answer
Stephen, who went away wondering whether he had been
wise to choose the law.
On Monday, when Stephen called at Carvel & Com-
pany's, Eliphalet was too busy to see him. But Ephum,
who went out to Glencoe every night with orders, told
him that the " Jedge was wuss, suh." On Wednesday,
there being little change, Mrs. Brice ventured to despatch
a jelly by Ephum. On Friday afternoon, when Stephen
was ieep in Whittlesey and the New Code, he became
aware of Ephum standing beside him. In reply to his
anxious question Ephum answered : —
" I reckon he better, suh. He an' de Colonel done com-
mence wrastlin' 'bout a man name o' Linkum. De Colonel
done wrote you dis note, suh."
It was a very polite note, containing the Colonel's com-
pliments, asking Mr. Brice to Glencoe that afternoon with
whatever papers or letters the Judge might wish to see.
And since there was no convenient train in the evening.
Colonel Carvel would feel honored if Mr. Brice would
spend the night. The Colonel mentioned the train on
which Mr. Brice was expected.
The Missouri side of the Mississippi is a very different
country from the hot and treeless prairies of Illinois. As
Stephen alighted at the little station at Glencoe and was
driven away by Ned in the Colonel's buggy, he drew in
deep breatha of the sweet air of the Meramec Valley.
GLENCOE
16S
There had been a shower, and the gun glistened on the
drops on grass and flowers, and the great trees hung heavy
over the clay road. At last they ctme to a white^gate^^
the picket fence, m sight of a rambling wooden houfe wi h
a veranda in front covered with honeysuckle. And Then
he saw the Colonel, in white marseiuis, smokint; a cigar
This, indeed, was real country. "^ ^
As Stephen trod the rough flags between the hicrh grass
which led toward the house, Colonel Carvel rose to hiffull
height and greeted him.
"You are very welcome, sir," he said gravely. "The
Judge is asleep now," he added. " I regret to s^y that we
had a little argument this morning, and my daughter tells
me It will be well not to excite him again to-day. Jinnv
18 reading to him now, or she would be here to entertain
K J^'- K^"'"- "^.f '^«°^ • " ^"^^ Mr. Carvel, " show Mr
rJrice to his room.
Jackson appeared hurriedly, seized Stephen's bag, and
o a nrr^iT,*^''" through the cool and darkened house
to a pretty little room on the south side, with matting,
and roses on the simple dressing-table. After he had sat
awhile staring at these, and at the wet flower-garden from
between the slats of his shutters, he removed the signs ot
the railroad upon him and descended. The Colonll was
still on the porch, in his easy-chair. He had lighted an-
other cigar, and on the stand beside him stood two tall
glasses green with the fresh mint. Colonel Carvel rose,
and with his own i-und offered one to Stephen.
" Your health, Mr. Brice," he said. « and I hope you will
feel at h.me here sir. Jackson will bring yoranythinff
you desire, and should you wish te driveTl shall be de-
iignted to show you the country."
Stephen drank that julep with' reverence, and then the
Colonel gave him a cigar. He was quite overcome by this
treatment of a penniless young Yankee. The Colonel did
not talk politics — such was not his notion of hospitality
to a stranger. He talked horse, and no great discernment
Mr'c^^veT/hSyr" '"''' '^ ^^^^^^^'^ ^^^^ '''^ ^^
I i;
ml
164
THE CRISIS
mi
f '
*' I used to have a stable, Mr. Brice, before they rained
gentleman's sport with these trotters ten years ago. Yes,
sir, we used to be at Lexington one week, and Louisville
the next, and over here on the Ames track after that.
Did you ever hear of Water Witch and Netty Boone?"
Yes, Stephen had, from Mr. Jack Brinsmade.
The Colonel's face beamed.
"Why, sir," he cried, "that very nigger, Ned, w ho drove
you here from the cars — he used to ride Netty Boone.
Would you believe that, Mr. Brice? He was the best
jockey ever strode a horse on the Elleardsville track here.
He wore my yellow and grecii, sir, until he got to weigh
one hundred and a quarter. And I kept him down to that
weight a whole year, Mr. Brice. Yes, sirree, a whole
year." »
" Kept him down I " said Stephen.
" Why, yes, sir. I had him wrapped in blankets and set
in a chair with holes bored in the seat. Then we lighted
a spirit lamp under him. Many a time I took on ten
pounds that way. It needs fire to get flesh off a nigger,
sir."
He didn't notice his guest's amazement.
"Then, sir," he continued, "they introduced these
damned trotting races ; trotting races are for white trash,
Mr. Brice."
"Pal"
The Colonel stopped short. Stephen was already on
his feet. I wish you could have seen Miss Virginia Car-
vel as he saw her then. She wore a white lawn dress.
A tea-tray was in her hand, and her head was tilted back,
as women are apt to do when they carry a burden. It
was so that these Southern families, who were so bitter
against Abolitionists and Yankees, entertained them
when they were poor, and nursed them when they were
ill.
Stephen, for his life, could not utter a word. But Vir-
ginia turned to him with perfect self-possession.
" He has been boring you with his horses, Mr. Brice,"
dhe said. " Has he told you what a jockey Ned used to be
^fP'W'
GLENCOE jgg
before he weighed one hundred and a quarter 9" f\ lo. x.
Bote ^. V-rrUerrt "' ^""^' '«■» »^^^^^^^^^
Stephen.) ^ "pf I teU vn" '"« ""'"'■•■•«™n,ent foi
driv^ every gue^t \J^Ii\T^ "^'^ *«' y- "i"
intolerable:"^ ""' '"""«• ^""f jockey talk is
ViJinra'p^r^Soli^i^i .tL^r'"" "' *"<' ^^ ■- -"-•'
"ked, " K'inreYut',':^'"'^" -««- " My dear," he
Ml^^y E^t^r irwith^S'twr'J^' V'" '» ■«'««?•
w sayimr. He talks In k f ', ^'"? *» ""»ke out what fie
" An/ „!,.: • I "" ''**P' J''st as you do — "
intertfd ■"** " '"' ^^'-S' " ^eman/ed the Colonel,
Virginia set down the tray.
a awelp'T^'er'at' "^S'n'oT.t'"^'? m^C.^e^, with
Vii^inia "''* y°" '*' '"y "o™ ? " added Miss
th:te'^i'e.""!.Vw"tw'C?h'"Tj',^ «»* "o™ o"
white goatee on S chTi^^^L ^ff & "w "^ ""^
speech that country bumnldn n„Vi ^' ?° * J™" ">«
""vll^'? ^H^t R«P-bS"o'onv™SiTn1riiL"o^?" '"'
ve^X''it tr^TirrtKr 1 ^?1^^^™ --
r^ir^ia. "-^"^"'^^^^^^^i.t^^
The Colonel rose.
'^^ !^:-
166
THE CRISIS
.'ill
" You will pardon my absence for a while, sir," he said.
"My daughter will entertain you."
Id silence they watched him as he strode off under the
trees through tall grass, a yellow setter at his heels. A
strange peace was over Stephen. The shadows of the
walnuts and hickories were growing long, and a rich
country was giving up its scent to the evening air.
From a cabin behind the house was wafted the melody
of a plantation song. To the young man, aftei' the burnt
city, this was paradise. And then he remembered his
mother as she must be sitting on the tiny porch in town,
and sighed. Only two years ago she had been at their own
place at Westbury.
He looked up, and saw the girl watching him. He
dared not think that the expression he caught was one of
sympathy, for it changed instantly.
" I am afraid you are the silent kind, Mr. Brice," said
she ; " I believe it is a Yankee trait."
Stephen laughed.
" I have known a great many who were not," said he.
" When they are garrulous, they are very much so."
** I should prefer a garrulous one," said Virginia.
" I should think a Yankee were bad enough, but a noisy
Yankee not to be put up with," he ventured.
Virginia did not deign a direct reply to this, save by the
corners of her mouth.
"I wonder," said she, thoughtfully, "whether it is
strength of mind or a lack of ideas that makes them silent."
" It is mostly prudence," said Mr. Brice. " Prudence
is our dominant trait."
Virginia fidgeted. Usually she had an easier time.
" You have not always shown it," she said, with an
innocence which in women is often charged with meaning.
Stephen started. Her antagonism was still there. He
would have liked greatly to know whether she referred to
his hasty purchase of Hester, or to his rashness in dancing
with her at her party the winter before.
" We have something left to be thankful for," he an-
swered. " We are still capable of action."
GLENCOE
ler
" On occasiona it is violence," said Virginia, desperately.
This man must not get ahead of her.
"It is just as violent," said he, "as the repressed feeling
which prompts it."
This was a new kind of conversation to Virginia. Of
all the young men she knew, not one had ever ventured
into anything of the sort. They were either flippant, or
sentimental, or both. She was at once flattered and an-
noyed. Flattered, because, as a woman, Stephen had con-
ceded her a mind. Many of the young men she knew had
minds, but deemed that these were wasted on women,
whose language was generally supposed to be a kind of
childish twaddle. Even Jack Brinsmade rarely risked
his dignity and reputation at an intellectual tilt. This
was one of Virginia's grievances. She often argued with
her father, and, if the truth were told, had had more than
one victory over Judge Whipple.
Virginia's annoyance came from the fact that she per-
ceived in Stephen a natural and merciless logic, — a fac-
ulty for getting at the bottom of things. His brain did
not seem to be thrown out of gear by local magnetic influ-
ences, — by beauty, for instance. He did not lose his
head, as did some others she knew, at the approach of
feminine charms. Here was a grand subject, then, to try
the mettle of any woman. One with less mettle wouk^
have given it up. But Virginia thought it would b.
delightful to brin^f this particular Yankee to his knees,
and — and leave him there.
" Mr. Brice," she said, " I have not spoken to you sine
the night of my party. I believe we danced together."
"Yes, we did," said he, "and I called but was unfortu
nate."
"You called?"
Ah, Virginia I
*• They did not tell you I " cried Stephen.
Now Miss Carvel was complacency itself.
" Jackson is so careless with cards," said she, " and very
often I do not take the trouble to read them."
"I am sorry," said he, "as I wished for the opportunity
if
168
THE CRISIS
ll;:
:■ I:
to tell you how much I enjojed myself. I have found
everybody in St. Louis very Jcind to strangers."
Virginia was nearly disarmed. She remembered how
she had opposed his coming. But honesty as well as
something else prompted her to say : —
'♦ It was my father who invited you."
Stephen did not reveal the shock h«8 vanity had received.
"At least you were good enough to dance with me."
" I could scarcely refuse a guest," she replied.
He held up his head.
" Had I thought it would have given you annoyance,"
he said quietly, " I should not have asked you."
" Which would have been a lack of good manners," said
Virginia, biting her lips.
Stephen answered nothing, but wished himself in St.
Louis. He could not comprehend her cruelty. Bu.,, just
then, the bell rang for supper, and the Colonel appeared
around the end of the house.
It was one of those suppers for which the South is re-
nowned. And when at length he could induce Stephen to
eat no more. Colonel Carvel reached for his broad-brimmed
felt hat, and sat smoking, with his feet against the mantle.
Virginia, who had talked but little, disappeared with a
tray on which she had placed with her own hands some
dainties to tempt the Judge.
The Colonel regaled Stephen, when she was gone, with
the pedigree and performance of every horse he had had
in his stable. And this was a relief, as it gave him an
opportunity to think without interruption upon Virginia's
pronounced attitude of dislike. To him it was inconceiv-
able that a young woman of such qualities as she appeared
to have, should assail him so persistently for freeing a
negress, and so depriving her of a maid she had set her
heart upon. There were other New England young men
in society. Mr. Weston and Mr. Carpenter, and more.
They were not her particular friends, to be sure. But
they called on her and danced with her, and she had shown
thena not the least antipathy. But it was to Stephen's
credit that he did not analyze further.
OLENCOE
1C9
He was reflecting on these things when he got to hJH
room, when there came a knock at the door. It was Mammy
Easter, in bright turban and apron, — was hospitality and
comfort in the flesh.
" Is you got all you need, suh ? " she inquired.
Stephen replied that he had. But Mammy showed no
inclination to ^o, and he was too polite to shut the door.
"How you like Glencoe, Mistah Brice? "
He was charmed with it.
" We has some of de fust fam'lies out heah in de sum-
mer," said she. ♦♦ But de Colonel, he ain't much on a gran'
place laik in Kaintuck. Shucks, no, suh, dis ain't much
of a 'stablishment ! Young Massa won't have no lawns,
no greenhouses, no nothin". He say he laik it wil' and
simple. He on'y come out fo' two months, mebbe. But
Miss Jinny, she make it lively. Las' week, until the
Jedge come we hab dis house chuck full, two — three voung
ladies in a room, an' five young gemmen on trunnle beds."
" Until the Judge came ? " echoed Stephen.
" Yassuh. Den Miss Jinny low dey all hatter go. She
say she ain't gwineter have 'em roun' 'sturbin' a sick man.
De Colonel 'monstrated. He done give the Judge his big
room, and he say he and de young men gwine ober tc
Mistah Catherwood's. You ain't never seen Miss Jinny
rise up, suh ! She des swep' 'em all out " (Mammy empha-
sized this by rolling her hands) "an' declah she gwine ten'
to the Jedge herself. She ain't never let me bring up one
of his meals, suh." And so she left Stephen with some
food for reflection.
Virginia was very gay at breakfast, and said that the
Judge would see Stephen; so he and the Colonel, that
gentleman with his hat on, went up to his room. The
shutters were thrown open, and the morning sunlight
filtered through the leaves and fell on the four-poster
where the Judge sat up, gaunt and grizzled as ever. He
smiled at his host, and then tried to destroy immediately
the effect of the smile.
" Well, Judge," cried the Colonel, taking his h md, " I
reckon we talked too much yesterday."
I
\ 1
&
■1
i
170
THE CRISIS
« No such thing, Carvel," said the Judge, forcibly. « If
vou hadn't left the room, your popular sovereignty would
. have been in rags in two minutes."
Stephen sat down in a corner, unobserved, in expecta-
tion of a renewal. But at this moment Miss Virginia
swept into the room, very cool in a pink muslin.
" Colonel Carvel," said she, sternly, " I am the doctor's
deputy, here. I was told to keep the peace at any cost.
And if you answer back, out you go, like that ! " and she
snapped her fingers.
The Colonel laughed. But the Judge, whose mind was
on the argument, continued to mutter defiantly until his
eye fell upon Stephen.
"Well, sir, well, sir," he said, "you've turned up at
last, have you? I send you off with papers for a man,
and I get back a piece of yellow paper saying that he's
borrowed you. What did he do with you, Mr. Brice ? "
" He took me to Freeport, sir, where I listened to the
most remarkable speech I ever expect to hear."
"What 1 " cried the Judge, "so far from Boston? "
Stephen hesitated, uncertain whether to laugh, until he
chanced to look at Virginia. She had pursed her lips.
" I was very much surprised, sir," he said.
"Humph I " grunted Mr. Whipple, "and what did you
think of that ruffian, Lincoln ? "
"He is the most remarkable man that I have over met,
sir," answered Stephen, with emphasif
"Humph I"
It seemed as if the grunt this time had in it something
of approval. Stephen had doubt as to the propriety of
discussing Mr. Lincoln there, and he reddened. Vir-
ginia's expression bore a trace of defiance, and Mr. Carvel
stood with his feet apart, thoughtfully stroking his goatee.
But Mr. Whipple seemed to have no scruples.
"So you admired Lincoln, Mr. Brice?" he went on.
" You must agree with that laudatory estimation of him
which I read in the Missouri Democrat."
Stephen fidgeted.
" I do, sir, most decidedly," he answered.
■y?3iBn»'«pe^;.
m
m I
GLENCOE
m
I should hardly expect a conservative Bostonian, of
tbe class which respects property, to have said that. It
might possibly be a good thing if more from your town
could hear those debates/'
"They will read them, sir; I feel confident of it."
At this point the Colonel could contain himself no
longer.
" I reckon I might tell the man who wrote that Democrat
article a few things, if I could find out who he is," said he.
ra I said Virginia, warningly.
But Stephen had turned a fiery red.
" I wrote it. Colonel Carvel," he said.
For a dubious instant of silence Colonel Carvel stared.
1 hen — then he slapped his knees, broke into a storm of
laughter, and went out of the room. He left Stephen in
a moist state of discomfiture.
The Judge had bolted upright from the pillows.
"You have been neglecting your law, sir," he cried.
'1 wrote the article at night," said Stephen, indig-
"Then it must have been Sunday night, Mr. Brice."
At this point Virginia hid her face in her handkerchief,
which trembled visibly. Being a woman, whose ways are
unaccountable, the older man took no notice of her. But
being a young woman, and a pretty one, Stephen was
angry.
"I don't see what right you have to ask me that, sir,"
ne saici.
» XT^^^ question is withdrawn, Mr. Brice," said the Judge.
Virginia, you may strike it from the records. And now,
sir, tell me something about your trip."
Virginia departed.
An hour later Stephen descended to the veranda, and
It WM with apprehension that he discerned Mr. Carvel
seated under the vines at the far end. Virginia was
perched on the railing. *,»*»««
To Stephen's surprise the Colonel rose, and, coming
toward him, laid a kindly hand on his shoulder.
" Stephen," said he, " there will be no law until Monday
173
THE CRISIS
ii
Si I
A little rest will do
"I should like to very
" I won't let the Judge
have to go by the two
^k ■
Yon must stay with us until then,
you good."
Stephen was greatly touched.
"Thank you, sir," he said,
much. But I can't."
" Nonsense," said the Colonel,
interfere."
"It isn't that, sir. I shall
o'clock train, I fear."
sat'^sUen^ly^^^^^^ '"'°'^ '" ^^^^^°'^' ^^°' ™«*-while, had
!!/'''%" « .f '*^' y^ """^^ contrive to keep him."
one slid off the railing.
"I'm afraid he is determined, Pa," she answered.
ni?. i?f ^T ^'- ^"t"^ ^^"^^ ^^^ t« «ee a little of th;
place before he goes. It is very primitive," she explained,
not much like yours in the East."
Stephen thanked her, and bowed to the Colonel. And
so she led him past the low, crooked outbuildings at the
t^nn nr?"'^-^" '^"^ old Unde Ben busy over the prepara-
tion of his dinner, and frisky Rosetta, his daughter, plav-
mg with one of the Colonel's setters. Then V rSnL
took a well-worn path, on each side of which the ligh
grass bent with its load of seed, which entered the wood.
Oaks and hickories and walnuts and persimmons spread
lrnunA\^^^' ?^ ^^^"1}^ ^'^^^ *^^«ted fantastically
tYn^?. ..^ ^*'''°^'• ,- ^l ^^'' ^^^""^y «««°^«d but a fit set-
ting to the strong girlish figure in the pink frock before him.
So absorbed wa£ he in contemplation of this, and in won-
dering whether indeed she were to mar*^ her coS
Clarence Colfax, that he did not see the winders of v ew
unrolling in front of him. She stopped at length beside
a great patch of wild rose bushel.^ They weS on Jhe
edge of the bluff, and in front of theml mTle Ltic
summer-house, with seats on its five sides. Here Vir-
ginia sat down. But Stephen, going to the ed^e stood
and marvelled. Far, far below Wm, down th7wooS
steep shot the crystal Meramec, chafing over the TaUow
gravel beds and tearing headlong at the deep p^l
GLENCOE
173
Beyond, the dimpled green hills rose and ffill «n^ fi,
wale? r i°„?n "'"' '"^"- A Crl^\Ter he'
. yirginia had taken other youne men here an^ f»,«
had looked only upon her. aL ye^t she w^To't offende/
This sincerity now was as new to her as that with J^hfl*
he had surprised her in the Judge's room ""^'"^
And she was not quite at her easfi A ,^,.1, * ^i.
simple words ot;^ his' was Impossi We" lt"h^Ls°t Tom
Catherwood m the same situation she would have Tau^hed^
Clarence never so much as glanced at scenerv Hp;
rephe. to him were either flippfnt, or else mX?al, a"to
Rti^rp^T'^^^^° Z'^h *^® «^^«* abundance of that vallev
ht hi '.l^^'"- ^u°^ ^^*^ ^^^^ ^«°»anly gesture wh S
has been the same through the ages she put ap her hand
deftly tucking in the stray wisp &hind. ^ '
^he glanced at the New Englander, against whom shp
ut )Z: "hi'rd^r'.f ^° ^^^^^ she'hfd fitt^eerhfm'
ms tace, thinned by the summer in town, was of the
sternness of the Puritan. Stephen's features wlrTsharDlv
marked for his age. The will to conquer wi th^re «
justice was in the mouth, and greatness of heart Tnn
wirfhT ^"^"^^ T *^« ^'^^^ forehead Tiiee^es'
were the blue gray of the flint, kindly yet imoerishaWe
The face was not handsome. ^ "nperisnable.
heririf^^"?^' *^'''- y^^^l^"^ ^ ^^ ^"P«l«e, Virginia let
honored of women, feared by the false. She^w himTn
'^?'VhTr""v?!r' r-d, poised evenly rheTa^^n""
abruptly^ ^ ^^ '"^ *^'' afternoon?" she asked
He started at the change in her tone.
II
I,.
dli^i
174
THE CRISIS
He gave no reaaon. And she was too proud to ask it.
T^r^ffi i! ^'t^/^^, ^^^ ^ "'8f« y«"°» «»en to stay.
The difficulty had always been to get them to go. It
was natural, perhaps, that her vanity was wounded! But
It hurt her to think that she had made the overture, had
! I. J ^m"!^®*; whatever it was that set her against him,
and had failed through him.
" You must find the city attractive. Perhaps," she
R(»d"'^' a li"Ie laugh, "perhaps it is Bellefontaine
" No," he answered, smiling,
" Then " (with a touch of derision), » then it is because
you cannot miss an afternoon's work. You are that kind. "
" I was not always that kind," he answered. " I did
not work at Harvard. But now I have to or — or starve,"
ne said. '
For the second time his complete simplicity had dis-
armed her. He had not appealed to her sympathy, nor
had he hinted at the luxury in which he was brought up.
fehe would have liked to question Stephen on this former
life. But she changed the subject suddenly.
"What did you really think of Mr. Lincoln?
asked.
"I thought him the ugliest man I ever saw, and
handsomest as well."
" But you admired him ? "
" Yes," said Stephen, gravely.
I' You believe with him that this government cannot
exist half slave and half free. Then a day will come, Mr.
Brice, when you and I shall be foreigners one to the
other.
" You have forgotten," he said eagerly, "you have for-
gotten the rest of the quotation. ' I do not expect the
Union to be dissolved — I do not expect the house to fall
— but cease to be divided.' It will become all one thine
or all the other." ^
Virginia laughed. " That seemed to me very equivo-
cal, said she. « Your rail-aplitter is well named."
" WiU you read the rest of that speech ? " he asked.
she
the
GLENCOE
176
fiem-l^mT""^ ""' y°» ""« -"' '» Spring-
heZwere^d. ""'""*"' """"""•'"-"on for Mr. Lincoln,"
was myself / I don't understand."
Virginia puckered her lips.
re;Mrn,^:Sen%''''.S:v^X' *\r* ^?" '"''•" '"e
No' Wp1I»™!.%. ,y°"™o»' "hat was in that note'
lawyer WW ^voi ^e S' ^T ""»?'"* R«P«bIil
befo';e a c„rentToS in Vnoia '^''j"f " WV^'^I X '^'^'^
crazy on the subject ever s°n1;_h7?Z '?'t''''°*,'«^*"
his sleep; he went to Snr;^l.«fir 5 **"'' ™ Lincoln in
him, an§ 'now he cln^t rIS ifti „^ h "^°' *"" ^^ """
and heard him. So he writes a nZ t„™r^*°,*°'' *.■"""■
him to take you to the dX^ -1 " *^ ^""^^ »'«' "^s
" BThrtoir'" ,*" ''"«*' »' •"» amazement.
"He told voHo «„^H 5°- SPf "»«?'<» !" he exclaimed.
wouJdo^^irrdrfsuX".'."?- "^ ""- ««" ^o-
you," »id v?J'inU°''"TL''- ^^°"«'" ?°y'"»g "bout
has more priiKariti J, „„ V '','\"t^'' **'• «"™- "e
city e.eep^ Tr. ^B^ZZ'V'^y 't" 1^i'„n» *«
I
ll
Hmi
gj
V ^^^^^^B
?j
*3
fe" B^ft 1
''M
hbIk^J
Ttm
176
THE CBISIS
t(
Why? "he asked.
She did not answer, but sat tapping the seat with, her
fingers. And when she ventured to look at him, he had
fallen into thought.
" I think it must be time for dinner," said Virginia, »♦ if
you really wish to catch the train."
The coldness in her voice, rather than her words, aroused
him. He rose, took one lingering look at the river, and
followed her to the house.
At dinner, when not talking about his mare, the Colonel
was trying to persuade Stephen to remain. Virginia did
not join in this, and her father thought the young man's
refusal sprang from her lack of cordiality. Colonel Car-
vel himself drove to the station.
When he returned, he found his daughter sitting idlv on
the porch. * ^ "^
" I like that youn^ man, if he is a Yankee," he declared.
** I don't," said Virginia, promptly.
_ " Mv dear," said her father, voicing the hospitality of the
Carvels, " I am surprised at you. One should never show
one's feelings toward a guest. As mistress of this house
it was your duty to press him to stay."
" He did not want to stay."
"Do -ou know why he went, my dear?" asked the
Colonel.
" No," said Virginia.
" I asked him," said the Colonel.
" Pa I I did not think it of you I " she cried. And then,
" What was it ? " she demanded.
" He said that his mother was alone in town, and needed
him."
Virginia got up without a word, and went into Judge
Whipple's room. And there the Colonel found her some
hours later, reading aloud from a scrap-book certain
speeches of Mr. Lincoln's which Judge Whipple had cut
from newspapers. And the Judge, lying back with his
eyes half closed, was listening in pure delight. Little did
he guess at Virginia's penance !
CHAPTER VII
AN EX0UB8I0N
of dissolutipo, of L^'^:!:.o^:Snt" '"" "*'"
were also to see their country a nowfir in A.« ^ V j ''^
chance the greatest power WhiK!,. the world, Der-
the child of the West r^^r-T • Europe had wrangled,
sa?fri£^»-^-^x;n^e-':;s"
For the seed, sowed in wisdom and self-denial, was
177
ni
ifi '
m
mi
I ! T
Jl
178
THE CRISIS
bearing fruit. The sound of gathering conventions
was in the land, and the Freeport Heresy was not for-'
gotten.
We shall not mention the number of clients thronging
to Mr. Whipple's office to consult Mr. Brice. These
things are humiliating. Some of Stephen's income came
from articles in the newspapers of that day. What funny
newspapers they were, the size of a blanket I No startling
headlines such as we see now, but a continued novel among
the advertisements on the front page and verses from some
gifted lady of the town, signed Jsieetra. And often a story
of pure love, but more frequently of ghosts or other eerie
phenomena taken from a magazine, or an anecdote of a
cat or a chicken. There were letters from citizens who
had the mania of print, bulletins of diflferent ages from all
parts of the Union, clippings out of day-before-yesterday's
newspaper of Chicago or Cincinnati to three-weeks letters
from San Francisco, come by the ponv post to Lexington
and then down the swift Missouri. Of course, there was
news by telegraph, but that was precious as fine gold, —
not to be lightly read and cast aside.
In the autumn of '59, through the kindness of Mr.
Brinsmade, Stephen had gone on a steamboat up the river
to a great convention in Iowa. On this excursion was
much of St. Louis's bluest blood. He widened his circle
of acquaintances, and spent much of his time walking the
guards between Miss Anne Brinsmade and Miss Puss Rus-
sell. Perhaps it is unfair to these young ladies to repeat
what they said about Stephen in the privacy of their state-
rooms, gentle Anne remonstrating that they should not
gossip, and listening eagerly the while, and laughing at
[iss Puss, whose mimicry of Stephen's severe ways brought
tears to her eyes.
Mr. Clarence Colfax was likewise on the boat, and pass-
ing Stephen on the guards, bowed distantly. But once,
on the return trip, when Stephen had a writing pad on his
knee, the young Southerner came up to him in his frank-
est manner and with an expression of th) gray eyes which
was not to be withstood.
AN EXCURSION
179
fKr t*^'°il ! °^' ^^°*»^" *»« "id- "I hear you are
the kind tTuit cannot be idle even on a holiSy^'
^. « Not a. bad a. aU thaC replied Stephen, .filing at
fi^,-!^i?^ u .u • , ^® ™*^« a remarkably jrraceful
S.^^^i.^^^l^'l ^^°?«^.*- "^ ^" toll, and >,if^ove
ments had what might be called a commanding indoSnIe
Stephen, while he smiled, could not but admire the i^^^^^
and gesture with which Colfax bade a n^^a npl ?
the black to do the errand was amusing enough. Stenhen
well knew it had not been such if he waSted a Sndkercfc
Stephen said it was not a diary. Mr CoIfRx J^o« i
well bred to inquire further; soTe neye" Found'oTth^
fhl*- "*'t''"f.'^"*;°«f *" "^^^^^t o^ the Conyention and
the speechmaking for ^he m.ouri Democrat.
f»,;n "J.®' T^ ^^^ ttherner, "I want to apologize for
hings IVe done to y. and said about you. T fed you
he'hesti^^"^^ ^'*" ^^" ^** "^^ -* '' «-^- ' "
Ciff ^"ll:td\"e^n ifn^^ fn^u'gt a^' cX^^^
Ca^^lV r^Kr"''"'''"" % °^«f^* ** "»3^ "tele's. Colonel
*r^^ \''''^^l occasion of my cousin's birthday ? "
« ^®^i ,f*^? Stephen, in surprise. *^
WeU, blurted Clarence, boyishly, "I was r U fn
He held out his hand, and Stephen took it warmly
didn't TZJT*!?'^ *^'°' ^'' ^«1^»^'" he said, «^and I
f^?n«r* ^ ""ff i'H^^".^ against W de^alerVther th^
sTppel 'Z.,^^ ' ^^^ ^-- M- Caryel-'?SS
The winning expression died from the face of the other.
rii
c-fcA
180
THE CRISIS
!!5
If
He turned ftwftj, and leftning aorois the nil, etared at the
high bluffs, red-bronzed by the autumn eun. A wort
of miles beyond that precipice was a long low building
of stone, surrounded by spreading trees, — tho school
for young Udies, celebrated throughout tht* West, where
our mothers and grandmothers were taught, — Monticello.
Thither Miss Virginia Carvel had gone, some thirty days
Hince, for her second winter.
Perhaps Stephen guessed the thought in the mind of
his companion, for he stared also. The music in the
cabin came to an abrupt pause, and only the tumbling
of waters through the planks oif the great wheels broke
the silence. They were both startled bv laughter at
their shoulders. There stood Miss Russell, the picture
of merriment, her arm locked in Anne Brinsmade's.
"It is the hour when all devout worshippers turn
towards the East," she said. " The goddess is enshrined
at Monticello."
Both yoang men, as they got to their feet, were crimson.
Whereupon Miss Russell laughed again. Anne, however,
blushed for them. But this was not the first time Miss
Russell had gone too far. Young Mr. Colfax, with the
excess of manner which was his at such times, excused
himself and left abruptly. This to the further embar-
rassment of Stephen and Anne, and the keener enjoyment
of Miss Russell.
" Was I not right, Mr. Brice ? " she demanded. " Why,
you are even writing verses to her I "
"I scarcely know Miss Carvel," he said, recovering.
" And as for writing verse — "
" You never did such a thing in your life ! I can well
believe it."
Miss Russell made a face in the direction Colfax had
taken.
" He always acts like that when you mention her," she
said.
" But you are so cruel, Puas," said Anne. " You can't
blame him."
" Hairpins I " said Miss Russell.
AN EXCURSION |g|
He remembered his pronouns too late.
"My aear, What will Mr. Brice think of us?"
Lwten, Mr. Brice," Puss continued, undaunted »I
shall teU you some ^oesin. Virginia vas sent ?o Monti-
cello, and went withlier /ather to^^Kentucky and PeiX
cXx.' " '"™™''' '^*' '^' '^''«^' ^ » Vf'o»» Clarence
"Oh, Fuss .'"cried Anna.
Miss Russell paid not the slightest heed.
fh. i^«^°'»tl?"''^U* "«^*'" «^« ^«°* on- " I should do
dc^sTrike th^at ^^^ T fi"t cousins, and the Cdone'
t^f 2f.** ? *"? ^°"^ ""^ Clarence. But he isn't
^ aid ficT/*^"*^ i° **^" ^°?^ «««P* ho'«« racing "Sd
R^n^Winf^ ^^^- "^ "^^^^^^ *° ^«t drive the ^lack
to Snt r.nir'^T*t ^"* ^^ J^^°«^ »»d ^« another had
to put a collar and chain on him. He wanted to tro fili
bustenng with Walker, and she had to g^ dow^ ?n her"
far M war, Mr. Bnce, just look out for him."
liut — Anne interposed.
ha^' monly^"*''^ ^^^^ ^**" ^"^ ^°'°^ ^ ^^' " *^** ^^*"°<'«
"Puss I " cried Anne, outraged. " How dare you I "
Miss Russell slipped an arm around her waist.
S«n«^r' A*""^' she said, "we mustn't interrupt the
Senator any longer. He is prenarinp his maiden speech."
That was the way in which ifteph i got his nicLam;.
It 18 scarcely necessary to add that^ht, w?ote no more untU
he reached his little room in the house on Olive Street
in ^h^}^ ^^ ^^*^"' *°d *^« blac^ cloud that hunir
in the still autumn air over the city was in sight. It w^
dusk when the Jackson pushed her nose into tSe levee, ILd
the song of the negro stevedores rose from below as they
!i.
182
THE CRISIS
tf;p'*-
pulled the gang-plank on to the landing-stage. Stephen
stood apart on the hurricane deck, gazing at the dark
line of sooty warehouses. How many young men
with their way to make have felt the same as ne did
after some pleasant excursion. The presence of a tall
form beside him shook him from his revery, and he looked
up to recognize the benevolent face of Mr. Brinsmade.
" Mrs. Brice may be anxious, Stephen, at the late hour,"
said he. " My carriage is here, and it will give me great
pleasure to convey you to your door."
Dear Mr. Brinsmade ! He is in heaven now, and knows
at last the good he wrought upon earth. Of the many
thoughtful charities which Stephen received from him, this
one sticks firmest in his remembrance : A stranger, tired
and lonely, and apart from the gay young men and women
who stepped from the boat, he had been sought out by this
gentleman, to whom had been given the divine gift of for-
getting none.
" Oh, Puss," cried Anne, that evening, for Miss Russell
had come to spend the night, " how could you have talked
to him so? He scarcely spoke on the way up in the
carriage. You have offended him."
" Why should I set him upon a pedestal ? " said Puss,
with a thread in her mouth ; " why should you all set him
upon a pedestal ? He is only a Yankee," said Puss, toss-
ing her head, " and not so very wonderful."
" I did not say \e was wonderful," replied Anne, with
dignity.
" But you girls think' him so. Emily and Eugenie and
Maude. He had better marry Belle Cluyme. A great
man, he may give some decision to that family. Anne I "
"Yes."
" Shall I tell you a secret ? "
" Yes," said Anne. She was human, and she was
feminine.
"Then — Virginia Carvel is in love with him."
" With Mr. Brice I " cried astonished Anne. " She
hates him ! "
" She thinks she hates him," said Miss Russell, calmly.
i^v
^
':r-
<'f-.
AN EXCURSION
183
Anne looked up at her companion admirinffly. Her
two heroines were Puss and Virginia. Both had the same
kind of danM, but in Puss the trait had developed into
a somewhat disagreeable outspokenness which made many
people dislike her. Her judgments were usually well
founded, and her prophecies had so often come to pass
that Anne often believed in them for no other reason.
" How do you know ? " said Anne, incredulously.
"Do you remember that September, a year ago, when
we were all out at Glencoe, and Judge Whipple was ill,
and Virginia sent us all away and nursed him herself ? "
" Yes," said Anne.
"And did you know that Mr. Brice had gone out, with
letters, when the Judge was better ? "
" Yes," said Anne, breatliless.
"It was a Saturday afternoon that he left, although
they had begged him to stay over Sunday. Virginia had
written for me to come back, and I arrived in the eveninjr
I asked Easter where Jinny was, and I found her—"
" You found her -— ? " said Anne.
" Sitting alone in the summer-house over the river.
Easter said she had been there for two hours. And f
have never known Jinny to be such miserable company
as she was that night." ^
"Did she mention Stephen ?" asked Anne.
"No."
" But you did," said Anne, with conviction.
Miss Russell's reply was not as direct as usual.
"You know Virginia never confides unless she wants
to, she said.
Anne considered.
" Virginia has scarcely seen him since then," she said.
" You know that I was her room-mate at Monticello last
year, and I think I should Jiave discovered it."
" Did she speak of him ? " demanded Miss Russell.
" Only when the subject was mentioned. I heard her
repeat once what Judge Whipple told her father of him,
— that he had a fine legal mind. He was often in my
letters from home, because they have taken Pa's house next
JglJ 1-Hilt-' .Jt
II!
■ *1
t^
«
i I
i
11
184
door.
THE CBI8IS
never
d because Pa likes them. I
letters to Jinny," said Anne, "but t
any desire to hear them."
« l\!T^hT^ ^ "^"^^ ^i^y *o^^"* ^°»'" confessed Puss.
Did she answer your letter ? "
"No," replied Miss Puss, " but that was just before the
hohdam you remember. And then the Colonel h^r^
her off to see her Pennsylvania relatives, and I belfe^
gtey went to Annapolis, too, where the Carvels com^
Stephen, sitting in the next house, writini? ant >i,-«
account, Me dreamed that he was the' sub ec^ Va co^
ference in the third story front of the Brins-^des'. Later,
when the young ladies were asleep, he carx.ed his manu
3 '?H-^'. -TT"' ^^.^^' *^^ delivereS^t intTJhe
hands of his friend, t^ie night editor, who was awaiting it
Toward the end of that week. Miss Virginia Carve" wm
sitting with her back to one of the great^trees at Mo™
I't uX ]!!? %^T'' .^r^^^ «°^^« '^ ^ ^^il« «he tucked
It under her cloak and glanced hastUy around. It wa«
from Miss Anne Brmsmade.
"I have told you all about the excursion, my dear and
how we missed you. You may remember" (ahrAnne
Mr ^Stenh^'r-' ^° 'I' ^''' "^ ^>' ''y^^ may remfX;
Mr. Stephen Brice, whom we used to speak of. Pa and
Ma take a great interest in him, and Pa had him invfted
on the excursion. He is more serious than ever since Hp
hl^'T.' full-fledged lawyer. Bu?he has a d^;
humor which comes out when you know him well, of
which I did not suspect him. ds mother is the dearest
o'^ ni Jhter t^l/^K Sy t-s atTut t
people south of Market Street, the G^an^ ^11 he
did not know, that Pa was astonished. He toldlll about
SidX^hlr' and how they were persecuted at home
mL7tt & ' n'"- ^.* ^^ ^^^P^^ed to hear that
many of them were University men, and that they were
already organizing to defend the Union. I heard¥a^y
Mi-xi'^'M'M
AN EXCURSION lg5
;?irii'^^^i^'^„«t^-' ""» "« -"-» - that
ea»iyojfrfor°s:f brand's™ ""'i""^"" ""'»• >«■
by far, and wLt S:TS;ed' C pVl^^tht et"-
is not the end. i'Lte.^1 !Lk""^ 'i''™ ""^sented- Thia
Brice, a new black'akt^ In W ^1^ t T *'";
live I shaU never foreet how ™^t „.'. 1f^ "•''"'» ?» '
she said, 'It is a «iirSr.L t *" ''®'' ™<=« "hen
«„4. ^ . surprise from my son. mv Var r a^a
not e<pe<!t ever tr have «nntl.«, ' t- / . ' °™
boueht it vrith «^. 11! u ■ . /'""y' J J"«t foiMohe
^rds.'rd^';,"'^ n^ -^^^^^^^
?torythU3ioul!:';w«rfre^""""'^''= '™"' "'"' "«'
f!
w-^'
CHAPTER VIII
THE COLONEL 18 WABKBD
It is diflBcult to refrain from mention of the leave-tak-
ing of Miss Virginia Carvel from the Monticello « Female
Seminary," so called in the Democrat. Most young ladies
did not graduate in those days. There were exercises.
Stephen chanced to read in the Bepuhlican about these
ceremonies, which mentionet *hat Miss Virginia Carvel,
"Daughter of Coloiiel Comyn Carvel, was without doubt
the beauty of the day. She wore — " but why destroy
the picture ? I have the costumes under my hand. The
words are meaningless to all males, and young women
might laugh at a critical time. Miss Emily Russell per-
formed upon « that most superb of aU musical instruments,
the human voice." Was it Avid RoMn Gray that she
^^^, m *"* ^^^*^ ** ^^ ^^^ Maude Catherwood who re-
cited To My Mother, with such effect. Miss Carvel,
so Stephen learned with alarm, was to read a poem
by Mrs. Browning, but was "unavoidably prevented."
The truth was, as he heard afterward from Miss Puss Rus-
Mll, that Miss Jinny bad refused point blank. So the Lady
Principal, to save her reputation for discipline, had been
forced to deceive the press.
There was another who read the account of the exer-
cises \nth intense interest, a gentlema.. of whom we have
l^f?Y r'^^o''^® ^ speak. This is Mr. Eliphalet Hopper.
Ehphalet has prospered. It is to be doubted if that
somewhat easy-going gentleman. Colonel Carvel, realized
the full impoitance of Eliphalet to Carvel & Company.
Mr. Hood had been superseded. Ephum still opened the
store m *;he mornings, but Mr. Hopper was within the
gro -glass office before the place was warm, and through
186
Bidi^.<:z.^'=
-A^K-S
■.'•^•m: -jw
THE COLONEL IS WARNED 187
wwerooms and shipping rooms, rubbing his hands, to see if
any were late Afany of the old force*" were miswd, and a
r«f o^^L*^''??'.!? °T ^.^^ ^^'^'^ H*- These feared Elipha-
him, because Elip^et had hired that kind. To them the
Colonel was hfted high above the sordid affairs of the
world. He was at the store every day in the winter, and
Mr. Hopper always followed him obsequiously into the
^'ift't ^®'i' ?*"."^ ^° *^« book-keeper, a^^d showed
him the books and the increased earnings.
The Colonel thought of Mr. Hood and his slovenlv
management, and sigSed, in spite of his doubled income^
^L^^S^''■^!^^^f^ *° *^^ Companv's list of customers
Sfif n 1 "1^?? the growing Southwest, and yet the
honest Colonel did not lile him. Mr. Hopper, by a grad-
^J/rT.M*f^^^"P°" ^'^ ^^'^ should^, and conse-
quently off the Colonel's, responsibility after responsibility,
i^^o^ '^^''% soma painful scenes, of course, such as the
&w'Fr^^/;"^^^'r^^*^^ '^^^^^ ^°"l<i have occurred
nad not Ehphalet proved without question the incapacity
lid« wl^T^'.^ "^^T^"?- ^'- H°PP«' «°1>^ narrowed his
ro?.^i ? A^^ M?^?*"? pensioned Mr. Hood. But the
Colonel had a will before which, when roused, even Mr.
Hopper trembled. So that Eliphalet was always polite to
iiphum, and careful never to say anything in the darkey's
presence agamst incompetent clerks or favorite customers,
who^^by the chanty of the Colonel, remained on hi^
One spring day, after the sober home-coming of Colonel
Carvel from the Democratic Convention at Charieston,
iLphum accosted his master as he came into the store of a
""^fwl^;. Ephum's face was working with excitement,
r.i I ?? i?® °'\^*®'' ^^*h y^"' Ephum?" asked the
u V 'tS'^^^^^V V y°" h*^«°'* heen yourself lately."
"No, Marsa, I ain't 'zactly." ^
Ephum put down the duster, peered out of the door of
ihe private ofl&ce, and closed it softly.
pr
M
it
arse Comyn ? '
Yes?
"i*«B«JB. f^^iS-r^
lilll
<'
j!>
lii
188
THE CllISIS
I se kinder supWtious 'bout him, Marw."
The Colonel put down his newspaper.
^?*? he treated youWUy, Ephum ? " he asked quietly.
Ihe faithful nagro saw another question in his master's
face. He well knew that Colonel Carvel would not
descend to ask an inferior concerning the conduct of a
superior. °
" Oh ^f^h. And I ain't sayin' nuthin' gin his honesty.
He straight, but he powerful sharp, Marse Comyn. An'
ne jus mussiless down to a cent."
The Colonel sighed. He realized that which was be-
yond the grasp of the negro's mind. New and thriftier
methods of trade from New England were fast replacing
the old open-handedn^ss of the large houses. Competition
had begun, and competition is cruel. Edwards, James, &
Company had taken a Yankee into the firm. They were
now Edwards, James, & Doddington, and Mr. Edwards's
coolness towards the Colonel was manifest since the rise
Of Ehphalet. They were rivals i.ow instead of friends.
But Colonel Carvel did not know untU after years that
Mr. Hopper had been offered the place which Mr. Dod-
dington filled later.
As for Mr. Hopper, increase of salary had not changed
him. He stiU lived m the same humble way, in a sinlrle
room m the Widow Crane's boarding-house, and he pSid
very little more for his board than he had that first week
in which he swept out Colonel Carvel's store. He was
supermtendent, now, of Mr. Davitt's Sunday School, and
a church officer. At night, when he came home from
business, he would read the widov's evening paper, and
the Colonel s morning paper at the office. Of true Puritan
abstemiousness, his only indulgence was chewing tobacco.
It was as early as 1859 that the teller of tiie Boatman's
Bank began to point out Mr. Hopper's back to casual cus-
tomers, and he was more than once seen to enter the presi-
dent s room, which had carpet on the floor.
EUphalet's suavity with certain delinquent customers
from the Southwest was according to Scripture. When
FmW
_. ^-^mJ^^
THE COLONEL 18 WARNED 189
they were profane, and invited him into the stMnf K«
reminded them that the city had a pohTforce i2M'
While stiU a young man, he had a manner of f "W h^
W th°e lawH^ ""^'^ ^ P^°^" ^ capitalist he
steti concermng mortgages in several different
in ^Ki W*^®*^™ T*?°* ^^^ ^ '««»«'» ^ the sphere
in which l>rovidence had placed him, and so to fc an
example for many of us. 6e did not buy, o^even hi^
?he d3r'- "«^«Pl.e^ to superintend some^f
1«S M ^ ^n' \^*°f ** Christmas-tirnVbefore Virifinia
Th«r^ M*'''?°' k"*^?" '** ^ "«^»1 «° the stair-laXg
There Mr. Jacob Cluyme (who had been that dav in
conversation with the teller of the Boatmim's fiik?
chanced upon him. Mr. Cluyme was so charmed at the
f^cihty with which Eliphalet recounted the riT and fall
of sugar and cotton and wheat that he invitS Mr
Hop^r to dinner. And from this meal may be r^koned
Hnn^T appearance of the family of wh^ch El^Set
Hopper was the head into polite society. If the Climne
household was not polite, it was nothing. Ellphde?^?
next to Miss Belle^and heard the private^historrof many
old families, which he cherished for future u^ X^
ru^ht^^t^^be^flTrt"^^^^^^ Jacob Cluyme usU
There was only one person who really bothered EHpha-
te n EH^^n '°? prommence, and that person was Sp-
tain Elijah Brent. If, upon entering the ground-elass
?l?w^'ii""''it ^^P^' ^*h«^* *h« Colo^l Captl
Lige would walk out again just as if the office weie empt^
OnL^ ^ "'\t^ "J?^^ ^^'"^ addressed always to EphSi.
2f^ ' ""u^A ^l- ."^PP^" h^^ b^d^en him good mornS^
t,?rn £^"t'^* chair toward him, the honest^Captain h^!
Ten^^rJ'^K^^'^^^ ^'^^S^' ^ the house on
Tenth Street, where he found the Colonel alone at break-
>. 1 ^^taia sat down opposite.
"Colonel," said he, without an introduction, "I don't
Hi
190
THE CBISI8
i
like this here buainess of letting Hopper run your store.
He's a fish, I teU you." ""''*' '
The Colonel drank his coffee in silence.
"Lige," he said gently, »'he's nearly doubled my
income. It isn't the old times, when we ad went our own
way and kept our old customers year in and year out.
You know that."
The Captain took a deep draught of the coffee which
Jackson had laid before him.
"Colonel Carvel,' he said emphatically, "the fellow's
a damned rascal, and will ruin you yet if you don't take
advice."
The Colonel shifted uneasily.
"The books show that he's honest, Lige."
" Yes," cried Lige, with his fist on the table. " Honest
to a mill. But if th«it fellow ever gets on top of you, or
any one else, he'll grind you into dmt."
"He isn't likely to get on top of me, Lige. I know the
business, and keep watch. And now that Jinny's coming
home from Monticello, I feel that I can pay more attention
to her — kind of take her mother's place," said the Colonel,
putting on his felt hat and tipping his chair. "Lige, I
want that girl to have every advantage. She ought to go
to Europe and see the world. That trip East last sum-
mer did her a heap of good. When we were at Calvert
House, Dan read her something that my grandfather had
written about London, and she was regularly fired. First
I must take her to the Eastern Shore to see Carvel Hall.
Dan still owns it. Now it's London and Paris."
The Captain walked over to the window, and said noth-
ing. He did not see the searching gray eyes of his old
friend upon him.
" Lige I " said the Colonel.
The Captain turned.
" Lige, why don't you give up steamboating and come
along to Europe ? You're not forty yet, and you have a
he^ of money laid by."
The Captain shook his head with the vigor that char-
acterized him.
THE COLONEL 18 WARNED
IM
T *"iT**" H^'* °? *"°® '**' ™® *° *«»▼«»" »»« wid- " Colonel,
I tell you there's a storm cfomwi'."
The Colonel pulled his goatee uneasily. Here, at last.
was a man in whom there was no guile.
"Lige," he said, "isn't it about time you got married'"
Upon which the Captain shook his head again, even
with more vigor. He could not trust himself to speak.
After the Christmas holidays he had driven Virginia
across the frozen river, aU the way to Monticello, in a
fl®*^r 1.. r" °*^^* ^*^®" *^«y ^^ reached the school,
tne light of Its many windows casting long streaks on
the snow under the trees. He had helped her out, and
had taken her hand as she stood on the step.
"Be good, Jinny," he had said. "Remember what a
short time it will be until June. And your Pa will come
over to see you."
She had seized him by the buttons of his great coat,
and said tearfully : — o -^
" O Captain Lige I I shaU be so lonely when you are
aw^. Aren't you going to kiss me? "
He had put his Ups to her forehead, driven madly back
to Alton, and snent the night. The first thing he id the
next day when he reached St. Louis was to go straijrht to
the Colonel and tell him bluntly of the circumstance!
tJ i?®* ^ ,}^ ^ ^^® ^^^ ^^" ^^' Carvel said ; "but
1 d rather you d marry her than any man I can think of."
II i
■M
i!^
CHAPTER IX
SIGNS OP THE TIMES
In that spring of 1860 the time was come for the South
to make her final stand. And as the noise of ffatherinff
conventions shook the ground, Stephen Brice wm not the
only one who thought of the Question at Freeport. The
hour was now at hand for it to bear fruit.
Meanwhile, his hero, the hewer of rails and forger of
homely speech, Abraham Lincoln, had made a little tour
eastward the year before, and had startled Cooper Union
with a new logic and a new eloquence. They were the
same logic and the same eloquence which had startled
otephen.
Even as he predicted who had given it birth, the Ques-
tion destroyed the great Democratic Party. Colonel Carvel
travelled to the convention in historic Chai-leston soberly
and /««"ng God, as many another Southern gentleman.
In old Saint Michael's they knelt to pray fo? harmony,
for peace ; for a front bold and undismayed toward those
who wronged them. AU through the week chosen orators
wrestled m vain. Judge Douglas, you flattered yourself
that you had evaded the Question. Do you see the South-
ern delegates rising in their seats? Alabama leaves the
hall, followed by her sister states. The South has not
forgotten your Freeport Heresy. Once she loved you,
now she will have none of you.
Gloomily, indeed, did Colonel Carvel return home. He
D- K fl ?T° ^""^ *^® ^^S ^o' w^ich his grandfather
Kichard had fought so bravely. That flag was his inheri-
tance. So the Judge, laying his hand upon the knee of
his friend, reminded him gravely. But the Colonel shook
his head. The very calmness of their argument had been
portentous.
192
a.^£&.
SIGNS OF THE TIBfES iftj
"No, Whipple," said he. "You are a ■traiffhtforward
.T; * X- " °^ * ^ifi^^ **• You of the n3 a^I^S
upon taking awav from us the rights we had when our
fathers ormed tfce Constitution. ^ However the nUeJ
got to this country, sir, in your Bristol and Ne\^rt
wriLn He ?«tj^ *?«~,^»^«° V^« Constitution wm
ffin N^ Ente rndtTVotor?fitT^elS
Mf r&h^^.^^^^^^^^^^^ -n the-hr
stopJ:d ht^' ^"'"^P''^ *' ^"^''"P^^ ^^' Mr- Carvel
"Suppose you deprive me of my few slaves, you do not
fnend Samuels, of Louisiana, who depends on the laS
of five hundred. Shall I stand by selfishly ^d s^e him
ruined, and thousands of others Hike him ? '^
fl.f fS- ""? depressed. Colonel Carvel did not attend
the adjourned Convention at Baltimore, which split once
more on Mason and Dixon's line. The Democrate of ?he
S^^^I^^.'""'***?*^ J^"- ^«"»^^ *»d Johnson, and the
?li« Tv' ^%»°«*^«^ ^»' nominated Breckenridge ^d
wi. J^u ^, ^'^i""?' ^°*"^« *^e Colonel's ticket
What a Babel of voices was raised that summer ! Each
Thln^tV ^''iv''''^'^.^ ^^' ^^t^^^'^ *he extremes of
Prn rS ^^PJjWic^n Neyro Worshippers and the South-
ern Rights party of BrecSenridge, your conservative had
S«nJ^n^l''^ a''^ candidates, -of Judge Douglas or
Senator Bell. A most respectable but practically extinct
body of gentlemen in ruflied shirts, the Old Line Whjs^
had hkewise met m Baltimore. A new name being nee-
sZL'r'Ji ^»^^«l*¥™««lve« Constitutional Unionists.
^T^ 51- ""** ^t?'"" candidate, and they proposed to
^ve the Na ion soothing-syrup. So said Judge Whipple!
^th a grunt of contempt, to Mr. Cluyme, who was then a
prominent Constitutional Unionist.' Other and most
TrJ^f Ir^^n ^^'^^^t,'^^"^ '■^ Constitutional Unionists,
notably Mr. Calvin Brinsmade. Far be it from any oiS
I i
if 3*
ii
ft'i
ii
194
THE CRISIS
to OMt ditretpeot upon the repuUble mmnben of this p^rty ,
whose broad wings sheltered likewise so many %nik
brethren.
•^°Sr®"°^*^ evening in May, the Judge was taking tea
with Mrs. Brioe. The occasion was memorable for more
than one event — which was that he addressed Stephen by
his first name for the first time.
"You're an p oirer of Abraham Lincoln/' he had
said.
Stephen, used to Mr. Whipple's ways, smiled quietly
at his mother. He had never dared mention to the Judge
his suspicions concerning his journey to Springfield and
* reeoort.
" Stephen," said the Judge (here the surprise came in),
"Stephen, what do you think of Mr. Lincoln's chances for
the Republican nomination ? "
"We hear of no name but Seward's, sir," said Stephen,
when he had recovered.
The Judge grunted.
"Do you think that Lincoln would make a good Presi-
dent ? " he added.
" I have thour-Ht so, sir, ever since you were good
enough to give mt, the opportunity of knowing him."
It was a bold speech— -the Judge drew his great eye-
brows together, but he spoke to Mrs. Brice.
"I'm not as strong as I was once, ma'am," said he.
"And yet I am going to that Chicago convention."
Mrs. Brice remonstrated mildly, to the eflfect that he
had done his share of political work. He scaitjely waited
for her to finish.
" I shall take a younger man with me, in case anything
happens. In fact, ma'am, I had thought of taking your
son, if you can spare him."
And so it was that Stephen went to that most dramatic
of political gatherings, — in the historic Wigwam. It was
so that his eyes were opened to the view of the monster
which maims the vitality of the Republic, — the political
machine. Mr. Seward had brought his machine from
^ew York,— a legion prepared to fill the Wigwam with
W
v» Ja-j)
SIGNS OF THE TIMES
1«5
their bodies, and to drown with their oriee all namet lave
that of their master.
Stephen indeed had his eyes opened. Throujrh the
kindness of Judge Whipple he heard many quiot talks
between that ^ntleman and delegates from other sUtes
-- 1 ennsylvania and Illinois and Indiana and elsewhere.
He perceived that the Judge was no nonentity in this new
party. Mr. Whipple sat m his own room, and the dele-
gates came and ranged themselves along the bed. Late
one night, when the delegates were gone, Stephen ven-
tured to speak what was in his mind.
" Mr. Lincoln did not strike me as the kind of man, sir.
who would permit a bargain."
"Mr. Lincoln's at home playing barn-ball," said the
Judge, curtly. " He doesn't expect the nomination."
"Then, said Stephen, rather hotly, "I think you are
unfair to him." ^
You are expectincr the Judge to thunder. Sometimes
he liked this kind of speech.
"Stephen, I hope that politics may be a little cleaner
when you become a delegate," he answered, with just the
suspicion of a smile. " Supposing you are convinced that
Abra M a Lincoln is the only man who can save the Union,
and supposing that the one way to get him nominated is
to meet Seward's gang with their own methods, what would
you do, sir ? I want a practical proposition, sir," said Mr.
Whipple, "one that we can use to-night. It is now one
o clock."
As Stephen was silent, the Judge advised him to go to
bed. And the next morning while Mr. Seward's hench-
men, confident and uproarious, were parading the streets
of Chicago with their bands and their bunting, the vast
Wigwam was quietly filling up with bony Westerners whose
ally was none other than the state of Pennsylvania. These
gentlemen possessed wind which they had not wasted in
processions. And the L' \ delivered Seward and all that
was his into their hands.
How the light of Mr. Seward's hope went out after the
tirst ballot, and how some of the gentlemen attached to
196
THE CRISIS
P
his person wept ; and how the voices shook the Wigwam,
and the thunder of the guns rolled over the tossing waters
of the lake, mar • now living remember. That day a
name was delivert^ ^o the world through the mouths of
political schemers which was destined to enter history 's
that of the saviour of the Nation.
Down in little Springfield, on a vacant lot near to >
station, a tall man in his shirt sleeves was playing barn-
ball with some boys. The game finished, he had put on
his black coat and was starting homeward under the trees,
— when ■, fleet youngster darted after him with a tele-
gram. The tall man read it, and continued on his way,
his head bent and his feet taking long strides. Later in
the day he was met by a friend.
"Abe," said the friend, "I'm almighty glad there's
somebody in this town's got notorioiis at last.'
In the early morning of their return from Chicago,
Judge Whipple and Stephen were standing in the front of
a ferry-boat crossing the Mississippi. The sun was behind
them. The Judge had taken off his hat, and his gray
hair was stirred by the river breeze. Illnetis had set a
yellow seal on the face, but the younger man remarked it
not. For Stephen, staring at the black blur of the city's
outline, was filled with a strange exaltation which might
have belonged to his Puritan forefathers. Now at length
was come his chance to be of use in life, — to dedicate the
labor of his hands and of his brains to Abraham Lincoln,
uncouth prophet of the West. With all his might he
would work to save the city for the man who was the
hope of the Union.
The bell rang. The great paddles scattered the brown
waters with white foam, and the Judge voiced his
thoughts.
"Stephen," said he, "I guess we'll have to put
shoulders to the wheel this summer. If Lincoln is
elected, I have > ved my sixty-five years for nothing."
As he descended the plank, he laid a hand on Stephen's
our
not
SIGNS OP THE TIMES i^
as wi h slow srps Zv dS7?? blowing oflF her steam
pitch of the stS Wonl^^^^^ T1 *^« «*««?
the crack of whins r«^X.i\i. • ^'^^^^^ ^'^ ^*>oves and
in thVst^'.^tto^T'^ '" ^"^^-^ ""yo" who are here
vo;S' Captain L^Tl'^J^l/r/r,"' *t '^""^"
I am manager, I callate." ^^
^JThe Captain's &t was heard to come down on the
do:-[mal™''tCcreT"'" "* ""<^ ""«• ' -'«'■' T""
Buf at" i^gj'^f 'rdrr^- ^'f "*"" *» see »« he emerged,
returned. ^° ^""PP"' ™ *« 't^I* I^ '"avity
"The Colonel will be in any minute .••■ '• ...-j i,
have done Tntl^^e'mL^- ^r'^^' "^«" ^^"«^«
^^^etter vote for him, Lige," said the Judge, sitting
The Captain smiled at Stephen.
A man s got a lot of choice this year " said h« .» t
governments, thirtv-three -overnmen^' o^ ^^"^
patched up for a y^r or two » ^ governmeDt
t. -
Ifl
Ids
THE CRISIS
"Or no government," finished the Judge. "Lige,
you're not such a fool as to vote against the Union? "
" Judge," saia the Captain, instantly, " I'm not the only
one in this town who will hpve to decide whether my gym-
pathies are wrong. My tympathiei are with the South."
" It's not a question of sympathy. Captain," answered
the Judge, drvly. " Abraham Lincoln himself was born
in Kentucky.'
They had not heard a step without.
« Gentlemen, mark my words. If Abraham Lincoln is
elected, the South leaves this Union."
The Judge started, and looked up. The speaker was
Colonel Carvel himself.
"Then, sir," Mr. Whipple cried hotly, "then you will
be chastised and brought back. For at last we have
chosen a man who is strong enough, — who does not fear
your fire-eaters, — whose electors depend on Northern
votes alone."
Stephen rose apprehensively. So did Captain Lige.
The Colonel had taken a step forward, and a fire was quick
to kindle in his gray eyes. It was as quick to die. Judge
Whipple, deathly pale, staggered and fell into Stephen's
arms. But it was the Colonel who laid him on the horse-
"Silas! "he said, "Silas!"
Nor could the two who listened sound the depth of the
pathos the Colonel put into those two words.
But the Judge had not fainted. And the brusqueness
in his weakened voice was even more pathetic —
" Tut, tut," said he. " A little heat, and no breakfast."
The Colonel already had a bottle of the famous Bourbon
in his hand, and Captain Lige brought a glass of muddy
iced water. Mr. Carvel made an injudicious mixture of
the two, and held it to the lips of his friend. He was
pushed away.
"Come, Silas," he said.
« No ! " cried the Judge, and with this effort he slipped
back again. Those who stood there thought that the
stamp of death was already on Ju<%e Whipple's face.
SIGNS OP THE TIMES
199
But the lips were firmly closed, bidding defiance, as
ever, to the world. The Colonel, stroking his goatee,
regarded him curiously.
"SUas," he said slowly, «'if you won't drink it for me,
perfiaps you will drink it — for — Abraham — Lincoln."
The two who watched that scene have never forgotten
It. Outside, m the great cool store, the rattle of the
tracks was heard, and Mr. Hopper giving commands.
Within was silence. The straight figure of the Colonel
towered above the sofa while he waited. A full minute
passed. On.^e Judge Whipple's bony hand opened and
shut, and once his features worked. Then, without warn-
ing, he sat up.
"Colonel," said he, "I reckon I wouldn't be much use
to Abe if I took that. But if you'll send Ephum after a
cup of coffee — "
Mr. Carvel set the glass down. In two strides he had
reached the door and given the order. Then he came
back and seated himself on the sofa.
Stephen found his mother at breakfast. He had for-
gotten the convention. He told her what had happened
at Mr. Carvel's store, and how the Colonel had tried to
persuade Judge Whipple to take the Glencoe house whUe
he was in Europe, and how the Judge had refused. Tears
were m the widow's eyes when Stephen finished.
" And he means to stay here in the heat and go through
the campaign ? " she asked.
" He says that he will not stir."
"It will kill him, Stephen," Mrs. Brice faltered.
" So the Colonel told him. And he said that he would
die wilhngly— after Abraham Lincoln was elected. He
had nothing to live for but to fight for that. He had
"i^^^' understood the world, and had quarrelled with it
all his life.'
** He said that to Colonel Carvel ? "
it Yes."
"Stephen!"
He ^dn't dare to look at his mother, nor she at him.
And when he reached the office, half an horn- later, Mr.
1
T*ra
^XJOKt- II ^1 I i III III I IWi III I
MKfl ■ >■ IBMI S
doo
THE CRISIS
-J J
Whipple was seated in his chair, defiant and unapproach-
able. Stephen sighed as he settled down to hi^ work.
1 he thought of one who might have accomplished what
her father could not was in his head. She was at Monti-
cello.
Some three weeks later Mr. Brinsmade's bugiry drew
up at Mrs. Brice'a door. The Brinsmade family had
been for some time in the country. And frequently,
when that gentleman was detained in town by business,
he would stop at the little home for tea. The secret of
the good man's visit came out as he sat with them on the
front steps afterward.
"I fear that it wiU be a hot summer, ma'am," he had
said to Mrs. Brice. « You should go to the country."
"The heat agrees with me remarkably, Mr. Brinsmade,"
said the lady, smiling.
"I have heard that Colonel Carvel wishes to rent his
house at Glencoe," Mr. Brinsmade continued. " The fig-
ure IS not high." He mentioned it. And it was, indeed,
nominal. "It struck me that a change of air would do
you good, Mrs. Brice, and Stephen. Knowing that you
h**"^ fi ^^ ^^^ ^easiness concerning Judge Whipple, I
He stopped, and looked at her. It was a hard task even
for that best and most tactful of gentlemen, Mr. Brinsmade.
He too had misjudged this calm woman.
« I understand you, Mr. Brinsmade," she said. She saw,
as did Stephen, the kindness behind the offer — Colonel
Carvel s kindness and his own. The gentleman's benevo-
lent face brightened.
I'/'i'^u*^' °*^ ^®*^ Madam, do not let the thought of this
little house trouble you. It was never my expectation to
have it occupied in the summer. If we could induce the
Judge to go to Glencoe with you for the summer, I am
sure It would be a relief for us all."
He did not press the matter, but begged Stephen to call
m on him m a day or two, at the bank.
« What do you think, Stephen ? " asked his mother, when
Mr. Bnnsmade was gone.
SIGNS OP THE TIMES
201
Stephen did not reply at once. What, indeed, could he
say? The vision of that proud figure of Miss Virginia
was before him, and he revolted. What was kindness
from Colonel Carvel and Mr. Brinsmade was charity from
her. He could not bear the thought of living in a house
haunted by her. And yet why should he let his pride
and his feelings stand in the way of the health — perhaps of
the life — of Judge Whipple ? ^ f
It was characteristic of his mother's strength of mind
not to mention the subject again that evening. Stephen
did not sleep in the hot night. But when he rose in the
morning he had made up his mind. After breakfast he
went straight to the Colonel's store, and fortunately found
Mr. Carvel at his desk, winding up his affairs.
The next morning, when the train for the East pulled
out of lUinoistown, Miss Jinny Carvel stood on the plat-
form tearfully waving good-by to a knot of friends.
She was leaving for Europe. Presently she went into the
sleeping-car to join the Colonel, who wore a gray linen
duster. For a long time she sat gazing at the young
corn waving on the prairie, fingering the bunch of June
roses on her lap. CJlarence had picked them only a few
hours ago, in the dew at Bellegarde. She saw her
cousin standing disconsolate under the train sheds, just as
she had left him. She pictured him riding out the Belle-
fontaine Road that afternoon, alone. Now that the
ocean was to be between them, was it love that she felt
for Clarence at last ? She glanced at her father. Once
or twice she had suspected him of wishing to separate
them. Her Aunt Lillian, indeed, had said as much, and
Virginia had silenced her. But when she had asked the
Colonel to take Clarence to Europe, he had refused.
And yet she knew that he had begged Captain Lige to
Virginia had been at home but a week. She had seen
the change in Clarence and exulted. The very first day
she had surprised him on the porch at Bellegarde with
" Hardee's tactics." From a boy, Clarence had suddenly
■i'
»
t
i
t
'
202
THE CRISIS
II
^X SoiSr "^^^ * P"'Po«e' - and that was the Purpose
•A^^^l ^*^® 1*^^*^ ^ nominate that dirty Lincoln," he
said. "Do you think that we will submit to nigger equal-
ity rule ? l^ever ! never I " he cried. « If they ILt him, I
wiU stwid and fight them until my legs are shot from under
"l-ound » "^^ ^^"^^ '^**'^° ^^^ Yankees from the
. Virginia's heart had leaped within her at the words, and
into her eyes had flashed once more the look for which
the boy had waited and hoped in vain. He had the car-
nage of a «)ldier, the animation and endurance of the
thoroughbred when roused. He was of the stuff that
made the resistance of the South the marvel of the world
And well we know, whatever the sound of it, that his
speech was not heroics. Nor was it love for his cousin
that inspired it, save in this : he had apotheosized Vir-
ginia, lo him she was the inspired goddess of the South,
— His country. His admiration and affection had of late
been laid upon an altar. Her ambition for him he felt
WM hkewise the South's ambition for him.
His mother, Virginia's aunt, felt this too, and strove
against it with her feeble might. She never had had
power over her son ; nor over any man, save the temporal
power of beauty And to her mortification she found her-
dl,!cfl?w^«" •^*'.?-^ ^^'^ P^^ ^^^ "^8^^* ^*^« been her
daughter. So in Virgmia's presence she became more
trivial and petty than ever. It was her one defence.
It nad of course been a foregone conclusion that Clarence
should join Company A. Few young men of family did
not. And now he ran to his room to don for Virginia
that glorious but useless full dress, -the high bearakin
hat, the red pigeon-tailed coat, the light blue trousers, and
the gorgeous, priceless shackle. Indeed, the boy looked
stunning. He held his big rifle like a veteranfand hi
feje m 1 set with a high resolve there was no mistaking.
Ihe high color of her pride was on the cheek of the Hrl
as he brought his piece to the salute of her, his mistress.
And yet, when he was gone, and she sat alone amid the
'?^\'.
SIGNS OP THE TIMES
203
roses awaiting him, came wilfully before her another
face that was relentless determination, — the face of
Stephen Brice, as he had stood before her in the summer-
house at Glencoe. Strive as she might against the thought,
deny it to herself aad others, to Virginia Carvel his was
become the face of the North. Her patriotism and all
that was m her of race rebelled. To conquer that face
she would have given her own soul, and Clarence's.
Angrily she had arisen and paced the garden walks, and
cried out aloud that it was not inflexible.
And now, by the car window, looking out over the end-
less roll of the prairie, the memory of this was bitter within
her.
Suddenly she turned to her father.
" Did you rent our house at Glencoe ? " she asked.
"No, Jinny."
"I suppose Mr. Brice was too proud to accept it at
your charitable rent, even to save Mr. Whipple's life."
The Colonel turned to his daughter in mild surprise.
She was leaning back on the seat, her eyes half closed.
" Once you dislike a person, Jinny, you never get over
It. I always had a fancy for the voung man, and now I
have a better opinion of him than ever before. It was I
who insulted them by naming that rent."
" What did he do ? " Virginia demanded.
' He came to my office yesterday morning. 'Colonel
Carvel, raid he, » I hear you wish to rent your house.' I
said yes. ' You rented it once before, sir,' said he. ' Yes,'
said I. 'May I ask you what price you got for it^'
said he."
"And what did you say ? " she asked, leaning forward.
"I told him," said the Colonel, smiling. "But I
explained that I could not expect to command that price
now on short notice. He replied that they would pay it,
or not consider the place."
Virginia turned her head away and stared out over the
fields.
« How could they afford it ! " she murmured.
'Mr. Brinsmade tells me that young Brice won rather
u
t ^^Baf*>jiis~'^ acr".Trswr"5«iK»-. ^^^j-aT^^ucT
204
THE CRISIS
Heve he deoIii.ed7ome ^rt^f^n ^".'"^P'P*"- ^ **"
ferring to remaS atTheC ° *^'*""" P"^*'""- P""
pr^nl^.'" '""^ *" 8™"» "t" "« l>o««?" ri,o „ked
the only worr«fhM'lifcKlS .'*'?* '" ™"1^ t* »"'«"■?
Colonel Carvel sighed. But Virginia «id nothing.
H
CHAPTER X
i
bightbr's scab
This vna the summer when Mr. Stephen Brice began
to make his appearance in public. The very first was
rather encouraging than otherwise, although they were
not all so. It was at a little town on the outskirts of
the city where those who had come to scoff and jeer
remained to listen. •'
In writing that speech Stephen had striven to bear in
?'wl^'^''?w !?""'? ""^^^ ^'- ^^"^^l*^ ^»d given him:
Speak so that the lowest may understand, and the rest
wdl have no trouble." And it had worked. At the haltini?
lameneM of the begmninff an egg was thrown, —fortunatel?
wide of the mart. After this incident Stephen fairly
astonished his audience, — especially an elderly gentleman
who sat on a cracker-box in the rear, out of silht of the
We'no p'<Sf of Cft^t*"'" '""^^ ^^^PP^^' •^^ W -
Stephen himself would not have claimed originality for
that speech. He laughs now when it is spoken of, and
^lls it a boyish effort, which it was. I have no doubt
that many of the master's phrases slipped in, as younir Mr.
Bnce could repeat most of the Debates, and the cSoper
Union speech by heart. He had caught more than the
phrasing, however. So imbued was he with the spirit of
Abraham Lincoln that his hearers caught it; and that was
the end of the rotten eggs and the cal)bage8. The event
is to be especially noted because they crowded around
Him afterward to ask questions. For one thing, he had
not mentioned abolition. Wasn't it true, then, that this
Lincoln wished to tear the negro from his master, give
him a vote and a subsidy, and set him up as the equS of
206 ^
' !
i
li
=«»rsr»Pt-'SEie">
206
THE CRISIS
the man that owned him? "Slavery may stay where it
18, cried the young orator. " If it is content there, so are
we content. What we say is that it shaU not go one step
farther. No, not one inch into a northern territory."
On the next occasion Mr. Brice was one of the orators
at a much larger meeting in a garden in South St. Louis.
Ihe audience was mostly German. And this was even a
happier event, inasmuch as Mr. Brice was able to trace
with some skill the history of the Fatherland from the
Napoleonic wars to its Revolution. Incidentally he told
th6m why they had emigrated to this great and free coun-
try. And when in an inspired moment he coupled the
names of Abraham Lincoln and Father Jahn, the very
leaves of the trees above them trembled at their cheers.
And afterwards there was a long-remembered supper
in the moonlit grove with Richter and a party of his col-
lege friends from Jena. There was Herr Tiefel with the
httle Dresden-blue eyes, red and round and jolly; and
Hauptmann, long and thin and sallow; and Komer, red-
bearded and ponderous ; and Konig, a little clean-cut man
with a blond mustache that pointed upward. They
clattered their steins on the table and sang wonderful
Jena songs, while Stephen was lifted up and his soul
carried off to far-away Saxony, — to the clean little Uni-
versity town with its towers and crooked streets. And
when they sang the Volkmelodie, ^'Bemootter Bursehe zeiK
%ch ant, — Ade I " a big tear roiled down the scar on Richter's
cheek.
" Fahri wohl, ihr Stnusen grad und krumm !
Ich zieh' ntcht mekr in eueh herum,
DurchtSn ettch nicht mehr mit Ge$ang,
Mil Larm nicht mehr und Sporenklang."
As the deep tones died away, the soft night was steeped
m the sadness of that farewell song. It was Richter who
brought the full force of it home to Stephen.
" Do you recall the day you left your Harvard, and vour
Boston, my friend ? " he asked.
Stephen only nodded. He had never spoken of the
RICHTER'S SCAR 207
^f the dS Z.^SiJ^*^ "■« '!,"'» "' » »'»- P'^e«i„r" i
1 f« 'IK the W." "'°' °" "™^" fi™*. ""»
"The foxes?" Stephen interrupted.
.we^ VoTteTsrC *'*«''-■'• ^- -» '^-." ««■
.t<^^°'lftLr "tlSl'''^'''" '"'' ."«"• TieH taking „p the
™fJL..n' ™ '«e« comes the empty carriaee with iJl
s'2'rhZ^^ttTson''"'jj'ri^it^^^
a^5.,Tr?erer„:- --rr^e^^
^^'tnZVli^^Pl'" '*^ -P ""> feir n>ng.
.lm^r"'m7\L ^'" ""!''■■' ^•^"■""'i'r, salamander,
M^^n^tV^^ol^ILrjoKs^peX '^^^T
— :. .. .ar" ;;-» at if
v:^«u>«s «wiF> J —iW
208
THE CRISIS
tance in South St. Louis. In the very midat of their
merriment an elderly man whom Stephen recoirnized at
one of the German leaders (he afterwards became a
United States general) came and stood smiling by the
toble and joined in the singing. But presenUy he carried
Kichter away with him.
" What a patriot he would have made, had our country
been spared to us I " exclaimed Herr KSnig. " I think he
was the best man with the tchlUger that Jena eyer saw.
l!-ven Korner hkes not to stand against him in mask and
fencing hat, all padded. Eh, Rudolph ? "
Herr Kprner gave a good-natured growl of assent
"I have still a welt that he gave me a month since," he
said. "He has left his mark on many an aristocrat."
"And why did you always fight the aristocrats?"
stejphen asked.
They all tried to tell him at once, but Tiefel prevailed.
' ?^°*^^® *"ey were for making our country Austrian,
my fnend, he cried. " Because they were overbearing,
and ground the poor. Because the most of them were
immoral hke the French, and we knew that it must be by
morality and pure living that our Vaterland was to be res-
cued. And so we formed our guilds in opposition to theirs.
We swore to live by the standards of the great Jahn, of
whom you spoke. We swore to strive for the freedom of
tfermany with manlv courage. And when we were not
duelling with the nobles, we had »chlUger-houU hmong our-
« Broadswords?" exclaimed Stephen, in amazement.
/'Jawohl, answered Korner, puffing heavily. The slit in
his nose was plain even in the moonlight. "To keep our
hands m, as you would say. You Americans are a brave
peoDle — without the schlager. But we fought that we
mi^ht not become effete."
It was then that Stephen ventured to ask a question that
had been long burning within him.
"See here, Mr. Korner," said he, " how did Richter come
by that scar? He always gets red when I mention it. He
will never tell me."
RICHTER'S SCAR j^
He would not Wive me I w^«\'S" ^'*.'^' S'*^'' ^'•''«''''-
time. It waa a famol Ume T^f .^ -f, i!l. ^"'''» »' '»»«
:'^Jar said SlXerJ:'''^ "^ ***' "« «"^''
the C;unt"vl'lSL'i'"^NTof " ^^ «^«^ ^^^^^^ «'
and all Germany Manv ofnJ^f''T\ ^\ *' «'«"* ^ad,
bear to the grave th^Z^k/j^h"' ^\l ^unchenschaft wil
went to BonTILt unTve^tv of^tr^'^n"' ^°" ^^^^ach
was worahipp^d. When he J^.l'^p"f ^°'^^' ^^«r« he
crowds wou d Mthlr f^ 1. T^l to Berlin with his sister,
Woden ^Fr^^^'Zl^rn^V^r /I? ^ ^«r« like
"there is sometWn^ in W^^Ti' "°'*>™ed Herr Korner,
she as Sir as a poplaf It^« «n »fw? ^i'**''' ^^^^^^^^ and
^ "It was in tKar'47 whe^
home to Berlin before his l^t ^.ii// Richter was gone
One fine mornini? von k1i wl "^'^'.''^ ^ ««« his father.
burg «.te on a"bLi^s't^Ho°^' "h^ iJJ^^ ^^*"^^"-
that day that none of th« r?!!^- ?' i>^® l^^^^d openly
stand before hfm And krl T'?. ^f "i^^^'^M dare
lenge. Before night a?! Berlin ^''J'u ' *?°^. "P ^^^ <^^'^'
of tlie young Li3 of f?« t "^ ^^^f^ ^^ ^^^ temerity
shame V^t^sa^d we tho lr„ "* ^T^^^'J^J^' To our
feared for him "^ ^''^'^ ^"'^ ^°^«d Carl Ukewise
" Carl chose for his second Ebhardf * «,«« *
Germanian Club at Un» a;« i m, j™*" °^ ^UJ" own
Strai,e. And if vou ^iT^U '^ ^'"'^. *" ^^^ ^'•«<«
that Richtercame to^i«^ T "I^' ""^C ^^end, I tell you
pipe. The placrwal filled ^K^ at daybreak smokin/his
^i*r,.A^,.Aa/ron™e o^^^ °° °^^ «^^« «»d the
the trees. Richter wou?d hom" f *^^ '"" ^T^"^ "P ^^^r
the surgeon Hrwouldnn^K'''^^ *'?,^ °^ "«' "«^«ven
arm, nSr the uaddeS l.rK ^""^ *^^ "'^'^ ^^"nd on his
Nothing I So ibhal nTofk-^^' *^ "^^^ ««^«ri°g-
^^?'t£^1^^^ t^ dTviJ^TtSetlrnln^^^^^
210
THE CRISIS
no protection, but was calmly smoking the little short pipe
^jTith a charred bowl, a hush fell upon all. At the siffht of
the pipe von Kalbach ground his heel in the tui5? and
when the word was given he rushed at Richter like a wild
beast. You, my friend, who have never heard the whistle
of sharp Mhl&ger cannot know the song which a skilled
arm draws from the blade. It was music that morning.
You should have seen the noble's mighty strokes— Pnm
und Second imd Terz und QuaH. You would have marked
how Richter met him at every blow. Von Kalbach never
once took his eyes from the blue smoke from the bowl
He was terrible in his fury, and I shiver now to think how
we of the Burchenachqft trembled when we saw that our
champion was driven back a step, and then another. You
must know that it is a lastmg disgrace to be forced over
one 8 own line. It seemed as if we could not bear the
^§°^' ,^^^ *^®°' ^^^^6 ^6 counted out the last seconds
of the half, came a snap like that of a whip's lash,—
and the bowl of Richter's pipe lay smouldering on the
grass. The noble had cut the stem as clean as it were
a sapling twig, and there stood Richter with the piece still
clenched in his teeth, his eyes ablaze, and his cheek run-
ning blood. He pushed the surgeon away when he came
forward with his needles. The Count was smiling as he
put up his sword, his friends crowding around him, when
Jibhardt cried out that his man could fight the second
menmr,— though the wound was three needles long. Then
Kalbach cried aloud that he would kill him. But he
had not seen Gari's eyes. Something was in them that
made us think as we washed the cut. ^ut when we spoke
to him he said nothing. Nor could we force the pipe stem
from his teeth. *^
''Donner Schock!'' exclaimed Herr Korner, but rever-
ently, «if I hve to a hundred I never hope to see snch
a sight 9a that mensur. The word was given. The %chlaqer
flew so fMt that we only saw the light and heard the ring
alone. Before we of the Burschensehaft knew what had
happened the Count von Kalbach was over his line and had
flung his gchlager into a great tree, and was striding from
_r
RICHTER'S SCAR 2II
- hk fee/'"^*^ ^' ^^^^ ^''"^ ""** **** *^ streaming down
Amid a silence, Herr Korner lifted his irreat mue and
emptied it slowly A wind was rising, fearing w!thU
laKr^Ti?^'^n^i^*^^^"P«'-*«"toS^^
laughter. The moonlight trembled through the shff in^
eaves. And Stephen was filled with a sens! of the martel^
lous. It was as if this fierce duel, so full of nation^?Z-
nificance to a German, had been fought in another exltenc!
It was incredible to him that the unassuming lawyer he
knew, so whoUy Americanized, had been the^her7of H
Strange, indeed, that the striving life of these leSera of a
European Revolution had been suddenly cut^'?nite
JZ'r. -^^'Z 'r' ^ ^^P^«^ » fl«^h of that world co^
prehension which marks great statesmen. Was it not wTh
an7i?\P-^'PTA*V*^ measureless force of patr oSm
and high Ideal had been given to this youngest of iT
nations, that its high mission might be fulfiUed ?
Mws Russell heard of Stephen's speeches. She and her
brothers and Jack Brinsmafe used to banter him when hi
came a-visitmg in Bellefontaine Road. The time wrnot
yet come when neighbor stared coldly upon LighboT when
friends of long standing passed each Sther w^ih avS^S
looks It was not even a wild dream that^te^J^^h
Lincoln would be elected. And so Mr. Jack,^o Sde
speeches for Breckinridge in the face of Mr B^-
made's Union leanings, laughed at Stephen whenTe
came to spend the ni^ht. fle joined fonfes with Puss in
making clever fun of tie booby iuteh, which S ephen w^
wise enough to take good-naturedly. But once or S
when he met Clarence Colfax at these houses he wL aware
of a decided change in the attitude of that your^/enSe!
man This troubled him more than he caK !dm t
For he hked Clarence, who reminded him of Vii^nia ~ at
once a pleasure and a pain. ^ ^^
H. is no harm to admit (for the benefit of the Societv
for P«^cbcal Research) 4at Stephen still dr^aSIf
ber. He would go about his work abeenUy aU the morn-
{
N'n i
■••II
. j^/ii- . - »• l • JSC'
212
THE CRISIS
ing with the dream still in his head, and the girl so vividly
near him that he could not believe her to be travelling in
England, as Miss Russell said. Puss and Anne were care-
ful to keep him mformed as to her whereabouts. Stephen
set this down as a most natural supposition on their part
that all young men must have an interest in Viririnia
Carvel.
How needless to add that Virginia in her correspondence
never mentioned Stephen, although Puss in her letters took
pains to record the fact every time that he addressed a
Black Republican meeting. Miss Carvel paid no atten-
tion to this part of the communications. Her concern
for Judge Whipple Virginia did not hide. Anne wrote
of him. How he stood the rigors of that campaign were
a mystery to friend and foe alike.
CHAPTER XI
HOW A PBINCB CAME
Who has not heard of the St. Louis Agricultural Fair^
And what memories of its October days the mere mention
of It bnngs back to us who knew that hallowed place as
children. There was the vast wooden amphitheatre where
mad trottang races were run ; where stolid cattle walked
past the Chinese pagoda in the middle circle, and shook
the blu ribbons on their horns. But it was underneath
the tiers of seats (the whole way around the ring) that the
chief attractions lay hid. These were the church booths,
where fried oysters and sandwiches and cake and white
candy and ice-cream were sold by your mothers and sisters
for charity. These ladies wore white aprons as they waited
on the burly farmers. And toward the close of the day
for which they had volunteered they became distracted.
Christ Church had a booth, and St. George's; and Dr.
Ihayer 8, Unitarian, where Mrs. Brice might be found;
aiid Mr. Davitt's, conducted by Mr. Eliphalet Hopper on
strictly business principles ; and the Roman Catholic Cathe-
dral, where Miss Renault and other young ladies of French
descent presided; and Dr. Posthelwaite's, Presbyterian,
which we shall come to presently. And others, the whole
way around the ring.
There is one Fair which old St. Louisans stUl delight to
recall, — that of the autumn of 1860. Think for a minute.
You will remember that Virginia Carvel came back from
Europe, and made quite a stir in a town where all who
were worth knowing were intimates. Stephen caught a
elimpse of her on the street, received a distant bo\^ and
dreamed of her that night. Mr. Eliphalet Hopper, in his
Sunday suit, was at the ferry to pay his respects to the
213
l; '•
214
THE CRISIS
i
Colonel, to offer his services, and to tell him how the busi-
ness fared. HU was the first St. Louis face that Virginia
saw (Captain Use being in New Orleans), and if she con-
versed with Eliphalet on the ferry with more warmth than
ever before, there is nothing strange in that. Mr. Hopper
rode home with them in the carriage, and walked to Miss
Crane's with his heart thumping against his breast, and
wild thoughts whirlin|f in his head.
The next morning, m Virginia's sunny front room, teara
and laughter mingled. There was a present for Eugenie
and Anne and Emily and Puss and Maude, and a hearty
kiss from the Colonel for each. And more tears and
laughter and sighs as Mammy Easter and Rosetta un-
packed the English trunks, and with trembling hands and
rolhng eyes laid each Parisian gown upon the. bed.
But the Fair, the Fair !
117^* *^® thought of that glorious year my pen fails me.
Why mention the dread possibility of the negro-worehipper
Lincoln being elected the very next month? Why listen
to the rumblings in the South? Pompeii had chariot-
races to the mutterings of Vesuvius. St. Louis was in
gala garb to greet a Prince.
That was the year that Miss Virginia Carvel was given
charge of the booth in Dr. Posthelwaite's church,— the
booth next one of the great arches through which pranc-
ing horses and lowing cattle came.
Now who do you ttiink stopped at the booth for a chat
with Miss Jinny? Who made her blush as pink as her
Pans gown ? Who slipped into her hand the contribution
for the church, and refused to take the cream candy she
laughingly offered him as an equivalent ?
None other than Albert Edward, Prince of Wales, Duke
of Saxony, Duke of Cornwall and Rothesay, Earl of
Chester and Carrick, Baron Renfrew, and Lord of the
Isles. Out of compliment to the Republic which he
visited, he bore the simple title of Lord Renfrew.
Bitter tears of envy, so it was said, were shed in the
other booths. Belle Cluyme made a remark which is
best suppressed. Eliphalet Hopper, in Mr. Davitt's
HOW A PRINCE CAME
215
booths, stared until his eyes watered. A great throng
Mered into the covered way, kept clear for his Royid
Highness and suite, and for the prominent gentlemen who
accompanied them. And when the Prince was seen to
turn to His Grace, the Duke of Newcastle, and the sub-
scription was forthcoming, a great cheer shook the build-
mg, while Virginia and the young ladies with her bowed
and blushed and smiled. Colonel Carvel, who was a
Director, laid his hand ptemally on the blue coat of the
younff Prince. Reversing all precedent, he presented his
Royal Highness to his daughter and to the other young
ladies. It was done with the easy grace oi a Southern
gentleman. Whereupon Lord Renfrew bowed and smiled
too, and stroked his mustache, which was a habit he had,
and so fell naturally into the ways of Democracy.
Miss Puss Russell, who has another name, and whose
haa is now white, will tell you how Virginia carried off
the occasion with credit to her country.
It is safe to say that the Prince forgot " Silver Heels "
and "Royal Oak," although they had been trotted past
the Pagoda only that morning for his delectation. He
had forgotten his Honor the Mayor, who had held fast
to the voung man's arm as the four coal-black horees had
pranced through the crowds all the way from Barnum's
Hotel to the Fair Grounds. His Royal Highness forgot
himself stm further, and had at length withdrawn his
hands . m the pockets of his ample pantaloons and thrust
his thumbs into his yellow waistcoat. And who shall
blame him if Miss Virginia's replies to his sallies enchained
him?
Not the least impressive of those who stood by, smiling,
was the figure of the tall Colonel, his hat off for once, and
pnde written on his face. Oh, that his dear wife mi^ht
have lived to see this I
What was said in that historic interview with a future
Sovereign of England, far from his royal palaces, on
Democratic sawdust, with an American Beauty across a
board counter, was immediately recorded by the Colonel,
together with an exact description of his Royal Highness's
216
THE CEISIS
Wue coat, and Uffht, flowing pantoloons, and yeUow waiat-
coat, and colowa kids; e^n the PrinceThaWt oT SSr
Mid that his Grace of Newcastle smiled twice at Miss
iws more than two to his credit. But suddenly a 8tr3«
thing happened. Miss Virginia in the ver^ m?rl«T^f *^!
frotTeKlV'^'^'^^^PP!?- hLI^Ts h'afs 4ed
in S. ri Countenance, and were fixed upon a point
^^coZlei^"'^?^''^' *^^ promenade. i£r sentence
was completed — with some confusion. Perhaos it la no
r^tert^7i;t J^°/"^' ^'^^ mtuit&f quici:
romarjcea that he had already remained too lone thii«
h:?"Ta! '^^hS:^'*^ ^^ *'^ TV^"^ '' otherwfthou?d
FoZJL^'k ^^ "^^ * graceful speech, and a kinrfv
Followed by his retinue and the prominent citizens i
moved on. And it Vas remarked W keen observere ihat
^n^^^'^ril^" ^v*y°;. ^5^ **^«^ h«ld once mow the
^«t. P ^''•/^ ^rV^"^ ^^ t«lt ^th Colonel Carvel
Dear Colonel Carvel! What a true American of the
old type you were. You, nor the Mayor, nor the rest
S amlfe o i f ''T^ Presence. You saw in him only
aa amiabfe and lovable young man, who was to succeed
Y«„T """^T' r^ ^^""^^^^ °^ 8overe™s, vSa
You, Colonel Carvel were not one to crinfe to rS?'
Out of respect for the just and lenient loverei^ S^'
mother, you did honor to the Prince. But X ^
not remind him as you might have, that your Lea
tors fought for the King at J^arston Moor, anfthatTur
C wW I T °°'" ^° ^"^^'^^te of Charies James C
But what shaU we say of Mr. Cluyme, and of a few othera
Fd?' mI Is^frr^^'*^ *^^ *^ ^ Di«.:toJof tl"
frZ\^^^ J^^T?.^"/™® ^'^ <^"^. presented, in prooer
fom to his Royal Highness. Her father owned a C?r-
age, and had been abroad likewise m Z^aI ^ I
bull aa tlift Pftirt««i A J ™**^™- -a« made no such
««« ¥ J? '^olonel. And while the celebrated converaa-
taon of which we have spoken was in progress Mr rinlmt
Stood back and blushecTfor his coun't^S,' ^nd'^s'Sd
• A ^5/
HOW A PRINCE CAME 217
gte*&* "^^ *^" ^"*^^°^«° '' ^' ->y^ -ite who
His Royal Highness then proceeded to luncheon which
who St hS^ „: "°^* "^^^'^ ^^-^^^- co'Cs^rJ'enfc
TnrvJ^ I ^ newspaper an account of it that I cannot
forbear to copy. You may believe what he savs or^ot
ust ^ you choose : "So interested was his Roy^Hi^ine^^^
^hhf f ^^'^^"g* t^at he stayed in the ring three and
a half hours witnessing these trotting matches He was
beef, mutton, and buffalo tongue; beside th?m were Seat
jugs of lager beer, rolls of bread and plates of a soft S
caBbage cut into tiiin shreds, raw, and m?xed wUh vLeLr
We's X^'^nif " ''''' '^''' "°^ mustard spooos,The
ste J' .nS f Sf "^-^ ^f"^^ ®*^^°& With serving in their
Inf' .? ' **^ *^® *'^ °^ °»*»^e's forks, the slices of S
SeslreTto :at""UT''"^^ '' **^^ 4^"^' ^^ *"-' who
aesirea to eat. While your correspondent stood looking
at the spctacle, the Duke of Newcastle came in anH?
sat looking too He was evidently tryLg to A^^e mc^
r^'gumtotrei'r^^ii- ^y}^^^^^^t^^^z:.
Z^^v ^ 7 ^^® ^^S^^ *^e'' and cabbage also, I sud-
^L teh TC* *^ ?«^ Y^^k Alderrf en who gav^
rharl!« n^V^""^** ""^^ '^^^'^ °»«°^«^ we love and revere
Charles Dickens, was not overkind to us, and saw ou^
faulte rather than our virtues. We were a iatfon TsrZ
hoppe«,^d spat tobacco from early morninruntil iK
f^^^-A ^^'T« «^ "« undoubtedly did, to our shame be
LT^' .;^^l7^?'^ ^^- ^i^kens went dowi^ the Ohio
hel?l whnT'%^'?rP^"T^ *>^ *^« ^^^ and women
aSd ^tir!?*"' ^J".* ^^t^<'are. bolted through sOent meaL^
and retired within their cabins. Mr. Dickens saw oS
I li
"?;j~aE-i>3'»'*-
.-^^,'iSfi»-^T&'#t
218
THE CRISIS
anoestois bowed in a task that had been too ^reat for
other blood,— the task of bringing into civilization in the
compass of a century a wilderness three thousand miles in
/?iu 1/°** J"^®? ^ ^''y*^ Highness came to St. Louis
and beheld one hundred thousand people at the Fair we
are sure that he knew how recently the ground he stood
upon had been conquered from the forest.
A strange thing had happened, indeed. For, while the
1 rince lingered in front of the booth of Dr. Posthelwaite's
ch^ch and chatted with Virginia, a crowd had gathered
without. They stood peering over the barricade into the
covered way, proud of the self-possession of their younff
countrvwoman. And here, by a twist of fate, Mr. Stephen
Bnce found himself perched on a barrel beside his friend
Kichter. It was Richter who discovered her first.
Himmel ! It is Miss Carvel herself, Stephen," he cried,
impatient at the impassive face of his companion. " Look
Stephen, look there." '
"Yes," said Stephen, « I see."
« Ach ! "exclaimed the disgusted German, « wiU nothing
move you? I have seen German princesses that are
peasant women beside her. How she carries it off I See,
the Prince is laughing I " *
Stephen saw, and liorror held him in a tremor. His
one thought was of escape. What if she should raise her
eyes, and amid those vulgar stares discern his own ? And
vet that was within him which told him that she would
ioofc up. It was only a question of moments, and then, —
and then she would in truth despise him I Wedged
He limeT^^ ^^^^^' ^ ™°^® was to be betrayed.
Suddenly he rallied, ashamed of his own false shame.
Ihis was because of one whom he had known for the short
space of a day — whom he was to remember for a lifetime,
llie pian he worshipped, and she detested. Abraham
Lincoln woidd not have blushed between honest clerks and
farmers. Why should Stephen Brice? And what, after
all, was this girl to him? He could not tell. Almost the
^-Wk,,
HOW A PRINCE CAME
219
first day he had come to St. Louis the threads of their lives
had crossed, and since then had crossed many times aeain.
always ^th a spark. By the might of generations she
was one thing, and he another. They were separated bv
a vast and ever-widenin^ breach only to be closed by the
blood and bodies of a million of their countrymen. And
yet he dreamed of her.
Gradufidly, charmed like the simple people about him,
btephen became lost in the fascination of the scene. Sud-
denly confronted at a booth in a public fair with the heir
to the Enghsh throne, who but one of her own kind might
have earned it off so well, have been so complete a mistress
of herself? Since, save for a heightened color, Virginia
gave no sign of excitement. Undismayed, forgetful of the
adminng crowd, unconscious of their stares until— untU
G JtP'j^i'*"^ ""^ ^^ ^^ *»ad compelled her own.
buch had been the prophecy within him. Nor did he
wonder because, m that multitude of faces, her eyes had
flown so straightly homeward to his.
With a rough effort that made an angry stir, Stephen
flung the people aside and escaped, the astonished Richter
following m his wake. Nor could the honest German dis-
suade him from going back to the office for the rest of the
day, or discover what had happened.
But all through the afternoon that scene was painted on
the pages of Stephen's books. The crude booth in the
darkened way. The free pose of the girl standing in front
of her companions, a blue wisp of autumn sunlight falling
at her feet The young Prince laughing at her tallies, and
the elderly gentleman smiling with benevolence upon the
\'"
CHAPTER XII
INTO WHICH A POTENTATE COMES
Virginia danced with the Prince, « by Special Appoint-
ment, at the ball that evening. So ^d her aunt, Mrs.
Addwon Colfax. So likewise was Miss Belle Cluyme
among those honored and approved. But Virginia wore
the most beautiful of her Paris gowns, and seemed a
pnncMs to one watching from the gallery. Stephen was
sure that his Royal Highness made that particular dance
longer than the others. It was decidedly longer than
the one ne had with Miss Cluyme, although that younj?
lady had declared she was in heaven.
Alas, that princes cannot abide with us forever I His
Royal Highness bade farewell to St. Louis, and presently
that same (Hty of Alton which bore him northward came
back again m like royal state, and this time it was in honor
of a Democrat potentate. He is an old friend now. Senator
and Judge and Presidential Candidate, — Stephen Arnold
Doufflas, — father of the doctrine of Local Sovereignty,
which he has come to preach. So goes the world. We
are no sooner rid of one hero than we are readv for
another. "^
Blow, vou bandsmen on the hurricane deck, let the
shores echo with your national airs I Let the gay bunt-
mg wave in the river breeze! Uniforms flash upon the
giards, for no campaign is complete without the military.
Here are brave companies of the Douglas Guards, the
Hickory Sprouts, and the Little Giants to do honor to the
person of their hero. Cannon are booming as he steps
into his open carriage that evening on the levee, where
the pUes of river freight are covered with people. Trans-
parencies are dodging in the darkness. A fresh band
stnkes up " Hail Columbia," and the four horses prance
220
INTO WHICH A POTEKTATE COMES 221
away, followed oloaely by the "Independent Broom
Rangers." " The shouts for Douglas," remarked a keen
observer who was present, "must have penetrated Abra-
ham's bosom at Spnngfield."
Mr. Jacob Cluyme, who had been a Bell and Everett
man until that day, was not the only person of promi-
nence converted. After the speech he assured the Judge
that he was now undergoing the greatest pleasure of his
life in meeting the popular orator, the true representative
man of the Great West, the matured statesman, and the
able advocate or national principles. And although Mr.
Douglas looked as if he had heard something of the kind
before, he pressed Mr. Cluvme's hand warmly.
So was the author of Popular Sovereignty, " the great
Bulwark of American Independence," escorted to the
Court House steps, past houses of his stanch supporters,
which were illuminated in his honor. Stephen, wedged
among the people, remarked that the Judge had lost none
of his self-confidence since that day at Fieeport. Who,
seeing Uie Democratic candidate smiling and bowing to
the audience that blocked the wide square, would guess
that the Question troubled him at all, or that he missed
the votes of the solid South? How gravely the Judge
listened to the eulogy of the prominent citizen, who re-
minded him that his work was not yet finished, and that
he still waa harnessed to the cause of the people ! And
how happy was the choice of that word hamened!
The Judge had heard (so he said) with deep emotion
the remarks of the chairman. Then followed one of those
masterful speeches which wove a spell about those who
listened, — which, like the most popular of novels, moved
to laughter and to tears, to anger and to pity. Mr. Brice
and Mr Richter were not the only Black Republicans who
were depressed that night. And they trudged homeward
with the wild enthusiasm still ringing in their ears, heavy
with the thought that the long, hot campaign of their own
Wide- Awakes mi^ht be in vain.
They had a grim reproof from Judge Whipple in the
morning.
f
t
.S^
222
THE CBIfllS
"So you too, gentlemen, took opium Ust night,'*
all he sftid.
The dreaded poeaibility of Mr. Lincoln's election did
not interfere with the gayeties. The week after the Fair
Mr. Clarence Colfax gave a ^at dance at Bellegarde,
in honor of his cousin, Virginia, to which Mr. Stephen
Brice was not invited. A majority of Company A was were.
Virginia would have liked to have had them in uniform.
It was at this time that Anne Brinsmade took the
notion of having a ball in costume. Virginia, on hear-
in|f the news, rode over from Bellegarde, and flinging her
reins to Nicodemus ran up to Anne s little dressing-room.
" Whom have you invited, Anne ? " she demanded.
Anne ran over the long list of their acquaintance, but
there was one name she omitted.
" Are you sure that that is all ? " asked Viiginia, search-
ingly, vrh^n she had finished.
Anne looked mystified.
"I have invited Stephen Brice, Jinny," she said.
" But — "
« But ! " cried Virginia. « I knew it. Am I to be con-
fronted with that Yankee everywhere I go ? It is always
* Stephen Brice,' and he is ushered in wiUi a hvi."
Anne was quite overcome hjr this outburst. She had
dignity, however, and plenty of it And she was a loyal
friend.
"You have no right to criticise my guests, Virginia."
Virginia, seated on the arm of a chair, tapped her foot
on the floor.
" Why couldn't things remain as they were ? " she said.
" We were so happy before these Yankees came. And
they are not content in trying to deprive us of our rights.
They must spoil our pleasure, too."
"Stephen Brice is a gentleman," answered Anne. " He
spoils no one's pleasure, and goes no place that he is not
asked."
" He has not behaved according to my idea of a gentle^
man, the few times that I have been unfortunate enough
to encounter him," Virginia retorted.
'.•ms.::^
INTO WHICH A POTENTATE COMES
223
** You are tbe only one who says so, then." Here the
feminine got ' tter of Anne's prudence, and she added :
**I saw you "»'•.. with him once. Jinny Carvel, and I am
sure you never enjoyed a dance as much in your life."
Virginia blushed purple.
" Anne Brinsmade ! " she cried. " You may have your
ball, and your Yankees, all of them you want. But I
shan't come. How I wish I had never seen that horrid
Stenhen Brioel Then you would never have insulted
me. '
Virginia rose and snatched her riding-whip. This was
too much for Anne. She threw her arms around her friend
without more ado.
" Don't quarrel with me. Jinny," she said tearfully. " I
oould^i't bear it. He — Mr. Brice is not coming, I am
sure."
Virginia disengaged herself.
"He is not coming?"
"No," said Anne. "You asked me if he was invited.
And I was g^ing on to tell you that he could not come."
She stopped, and stared at Virginia in bewilderment.
That young lady, instead of beaming, had turned her back.
She stood nicking her whip at the window, gazing out over
the trees, down the slope to the river. Miss Russell might
have interpreted these things. Simple Anne I
"Why isn't he coming?' said Virginia, at last.
" Because he is to be one of the speakers at a big meet-
ing that night. Have you seen him since you got home.
Jinny ? He is thinner than he was. We are much wor-
ried about him, because he has worked so hard this
summer."
" A Black Republican meeting I " exclaimed Virginia,
scornfully ignoring the rest of what was said. " Then I'll
come, Anne dear, ' she cried, tripping the length of the
room. " I'll come as Titania. Who will you be ? "
She cantered off down the drive and out of the gate,
leavin'* a very puzzled young woman watching her from
tiie wiiidow. But when Virginia reached the forest at the
bend of the road, she pulled her horse down to a wtdk.
■^^•a
224
THE CRISIS
She bethought herself of the gown which her Uncle Daniel
had sent her from Calvert House, and of the pearls. And
she determined to go as her grea^grandmother, Dorothy
Shades of romance I How many readers will smUe
before the rest of this true incident is told?
What had happened was this. Miss Anne Brinsmade
had dnven to town in her mother's Jenny lAnd a day or
two before, and had stopped (as she often did) to pay a
call on Mrs. Brice. This lady, as may be guessed, was
not given to discussion of her husband's ancestors, nor of
her own. But on the walls of the little dining-room hune
a Copley and two Stuarts. One of the Stuarts was a full
length of an officer in the buff and blue of the Continental
Army. And it was this picture which caught Anne's
eye that day. * °
"How like Stephen I" she exclaimed. And a^'^-^d-
" Only the face is much older. Who is it, Mrs. Brict "
" Colonel Wilton Brice, Stephen's grandfather. There
18 a marked look about all the Brices. He was only
twenty years of age when the Revolution began. That
Eicture was painted much later in life, after Stuart came
ack to America, when the Colonel was nearly forty. He
had kept his uniform, and his wife persuaded him to be
painted in it.
"If Stephen would only come as Colonel Wilton Brice I"
she cried. " Do you think he would, Mrs. Brice ? "
Mrs. Brice laughed, and shook her head.
"I am afraid not, Anne," she said. "I have a part of
the unifoi-m upstairs, but I could never induce him even to
try it on."
As she drove from shop to shop that day, Anne reflected
that It certainly would not be like Stephen to wear his
grandfathers uniform to a ball. But she meant to ask
him, at any rate. And she had driven home immediately
to wnte her invitations. It was with keen disappointment
that she read his note of regret.
However, on the very dav of the ball, Anne chanced to
be m town again, and caught sight of Stephen pushing his
INTO WHICH A POTENTATE COMES 226
way amon^ the Mople on Fourth Street. She waved her
SrX *° Nicodemus to pull up at the
" We are all so sorry that you are not coming," said she,
, impulsively. And there she stopped short. For Anne was
a sincere person, and remembered Virginia. " That is I
am so son-y," she added, a little hastily. « Stephen, I siw
the portrait of your grandfather, and I wanted you to come
in his costume. ''
Stephen, smiUng down on her, said nothing. And poor
Anne, in her fear that he had perceived the shade in her
meaning, made another unfortunate remark.
" ? ^,^ ^^'^ not a — a Republican — " she said.
"A Black Republican," he answered, and laughed at
her discomfiture. "What then?" 6 « »•'
Anne was very red.
"I only meant that if you were not a Republican, there
would be no meeting to address that night."
"It does not make any difference to you what mv Doli-
tocs are, does it? " he asked, a little earnestly.
"Oh, Stephen ! " she exclaimed, in gentle reproof.
"Some people have discarded me," he said, striving to
Sill 1X6 •
She wondered whether he meant Virginia, and whether
He cared. Still further embarrassed, she said something?
which she regretted immediately.
" Couldn't you contrive to come ? "
He considered.
"I will come, after the meeting, if it is not too late," he
said at length. " But you must not tell any one."
He hfted his hat, and hurried on, leaving Anne in a
quandary. She wanted him. But what was she to say to
Virginia? Virginia was coming on the condition that he
WM not to be there. And Anne was scrupulous.
Stephen, too, was almost instantly soriy that he had
promised. The Uttle costumer's shop (the only one in
the city at that time) had been ransacked for the occa-
sion, and nothing was left to fit him. But when he
reached home there was a strong smell of camphor in his
♦ .
I:
ff >
226
THE CRISIS
mother 8 room. Colonel Brice's cocked hat and sword
and spurs lay on the bed, and presently Hester bronght
m the blue coat and buff waistcoat from the kitchen,
where she had been pressing them. Stephen must needs
yield to his mother's persuasions and try them on — they
were more than a passable fit. But there were the
breeches and cavalry boots to be thought of, and the
ruffled shirt and the powdered wig. So before tea he
hurried down to the costumer's again, not quite sure that
he was not making a fool of himself, and yet at last suffi-
ciently entered into the spirit of the thing. The coat was
mended and freshened. And when after tea he dressed
in the character, his appearance was so striking that his
mother could not refrain from some little admiration. As
for Hester, she was in transports. Stephen was human,
and youne. But still the frivolity of it all troubled him.
He had inherited from Colonel Wilton Brice, the Puritan,
other things beside clothes. And he felt in his heart as
he walked soberly to the hall that this was no time for
fanci iress balls. All intention of going was banished by
the time his turn had come to speak.
But mark how certain matters are beyond us. Not car^
ing to sit out the meeting on the platform, he made his way
down the side of the crowded hall, and ran into (of all
people) big Tom Catherwood. As the Southern Rights
politics of the Catherwood family were a matter of note in
the city, Stephen did not attempt to conceal his astonish-
ment. Tom himself was visibly embarrassed. He con-
gratulated Stephen on his speech, and volunteered the
news that he had come in a spirit of fairness to hear what
the intelligent leaders of the Republican party, such as
Judge Whipple, had to say. After that he fidgeted. But
the sight of him started in Stephen a train of tiiought that
closed his ears for once to the Judge's words. He had
had before a huge liking for Tom. Now he admired him.
for it was no light courage that took one of his position
there. And Stephen remembered that Tom was not risk-
ing merely the displeasure of his family and his friends,
but likewise somethmg of greater value than either. From
INTO WHICH A POTENTATE COMES 227
childhood Tom had been the devoted slave of Virginia
Carvel, with as little chance of manning her as a man
ever had. And now he was endangermg even that little
chance.
And so Stephen began to think of Virginia, and to won-
der what she would wear at Anne's party ; and to specu-
late how she would have treated him if he had gone. To
speak truth, this last matter had no little weight in his
decision to stay away. But we had best leave motives to
those whose business and equipment it is to weigh to a
grain. Since that agonizing moment when her eyes had
met his^ own among the curiously vulgar at the Fair,
Stephen's fear of meeting Virginia had grown to the pro-
portions of a terror. And yet there she was in his mind,
to take possession of it on the slightest occasion.
When Jud^ Whipple had finished, Tom rose. He
awoke Mr. Brice from a trance.
"Stephen," said he, "of course you're going to the
Brinsmade's."
Stephen shook his head.
"Why not?" said Tom, in surprise. "Haven't you a
costume ? "
" Yes," he answered dubiously.
"Why, then, you've got to come with me," says Tom.
heartily. "It isn't too late, and they'll want you. I've
a buggy, and I'm going to the Russells' to change my
clothes. Come along ! " o j
Stephen went.
t ■
iL n
CHAPTER XIII
AT MB. BBINSMADE'S GATE
The eastern side of the Brinsmade house is almost
wholly taken up by the big drawing-room where Anne
gave her fancy-dress baU. From the windows might be
Men, through the trees in the grounds, the Father of
waters below. But the room is gloomy now, that once
was gay, and a heavy coat of soot is spread on the porch at
the back, where the Upple blossoms still fall thinly in the
spring. The huge black town has coiled about the place.
The garden still struggles on, but the giants of the forest
are dying and dead. Bellefontame Road itself, once the
drive of fashion, is no more. Trucks and cars crowd the
streets which follow its once rural windings, and gone
forever are those comely wooded hills and green pastures,
— save in the memory of those who huve been spared
to dream. *^
Still the old house stands, begrimed but stately, rebuk-
ing the sordid life around it. Still come into it the Brms-
mades to marriage and to death. Five and sixty years are
gone since Mr. Calvin Brinsmade took his bride there.
Ihey sat on the porch in the morning light, harking to
the whistle of the quail in the com, and watching the
frightened deer scamper across the open. Do you see the
bride in her high-waisted gown, and Mr. Calvin in his
stock and his blue tail-coat and brass buttons?
Old people will tell you of the royal hospitality then, of
the famous men and women who promenaded under those
Sq5? ??^®™' *"^ *^^ ^°^" ^ *^® game-laden table. In
1836 General Atkinson and his officers thought nothing
of the twenty miles from Jefferson Barracks below, nor i!f
dancing all night with the Louisville belles, who were Mrs.
AT MR. BRINSMADE'S GATE 229
Brinsmade's guests. Thither came Miss Edwards of Ken-
tucky, long before she thoueht of taking for rhusband
that rude man of the people, Abraham^ Jncoln For
e^ners of distinction feU in love with the place with its
^o^r^n'^r'^w '"m^u' "^^ "^^*'««^ ^'^d wrote of itTn the r
journa^ Would that many of our countrymen, who think
of the West as rough, might have known the quality of the
Bnnsmades and their neighbors I H"""^/ oi me
fhft'^n?^^ charity, of golden simplicity, was passing on
that October night of Anne Brinsmade's W. thos^^ho
Wnl'^h"^ •^'r T'^ '^^'^ ^ ^ driven and scattered
Shl^ t% "^^ ^^^T^'i *^ ^'^ *<^ Wilson's Creek, or
ShUoh, or to be spared for heroes of the Wilderness, sime
were to eke out a life of widowhood in poverty Auwe^e
to live soberly, chastened by what they had seen A fear
a^ht%t^^^^^ "^^^^^^« ^-^ - ^« stT wa^lfLI
Mayf '46r' ^® ^"^^^ "^° ^*''' remember this room in
J^wi?"?f ?**^®; s^a^tled, turned upon him quickly.
HRiH »?Q A/°'' ^t""^ ^^ °*y ^e'y thoughts," he
i^ MexicoT" "" ""^^ ''''' ^''' then are -are stiU
"And some who came home, Brinsmade, blamed God
be<»u8e they had not faUen," said the Colonel.
h« l«f?h iS"' "^ ""^^ ^^ ^°°«'" ^« answered; «He
nas left a daughter to com .rt you."
Unconsciously their eye. ^ught Virginia. In her gown
of faded primrose and blue wuh its quaint stays and Ihort
sleeves, she seemed to have ca .ght the very air of the
decorous centurv to which it belo .ged. She was standing
gainst one of tLe pilasters at the side of the room, iS
FawT'^'^i?-^^ 2"" "^^'"^ ^^ ^'^y S*»»'P »°d S r John
v^\J^''''T''^^ "Idylls" having appeared but the
l^Jr^''''^' ^"^^ ^^ ^''^^^ ^ Klaine, a part which
waltzing with Daniel Boone (Mr. Clarence Colfax) in
1 ,
--1 ■
230
THE GBISIS
his Indian buckskins. Eugenie went as Marie Antoinette.
Tall Maude Catherwood was most imposing as Rebecca,
and her brother George made a towering Friar Tuck.
Even little fifteen-year-old Spencer Catherwood, the con-
tradiction of the family,, was there. He went as the
lieutenant Napoleon, walking about with his hands be-
hind his back and his brows thoughtfully contracted.
The Indian summer night was mild. It was at the
very height of the festivities that Dorothy Carvel and
Mr. Daniel Boone were making their way together to the
porch when the giant gate-keeper of Kenilworth Castle
came stalking up the steps out of the darkness, brandish-
ing his club in their faces. Dorothy screamed, and even
the doughty Daniel gave back a step.
"Tom Catherwood I How dare you? You frightened
me nearly to death."
" I'm sorry. Jinny, indeed I am," said the giant, re-
pentant, and holding her hand in his.
" Where have you been ? " demanded Virginia, a little
mollified. « What makes you so late ? "
"I've been to a Lincoln meeting," said honest Tom,
"where I heard a very fine speech from a friend of
yours."
Virginia tossed her head.
" You might have been better employed," said she, and
added, with dignity, " I have no friends who speak at
Black Republican meetings."
"How about Judge Whipple?" said Tom.
She stopped. " Did you mean the Judge? " she asked,
over her shoulder.
"No," said Tom, "I meant — "
He got no further. Virginia slipped her arm through
Clarence's, and they went off together to the end of the
veranda. Poor Tom I He passed on into the gay draw-
ing-room, but the zest had been taken out of his antics
for that night.
"Whom did he mean, Jinnv?" said Clarence, when
they were on the seat under the vines.
"He meant that Yankee, Stephen Brice," answered
▲T MB. BBIKSMADE'S GATE
231
Virginia, languidly. **I am so tired of hearing about
him."
" So am I," said Clarence, with a fervor by no means
false. "By George, I think he will make a Black Re-
publican out of Tom, if he keeps on. Puss and Jack have
been talking about him all summer, until I am out of
patience. I reckon he has brains. But suppose he has
addressed fifty Lincoln meetings, as they say, is that any
reason for making much of him ? I should not have him
at Bellegarde. I am surprised that Mr. Russell allows him
in his house. I can see why Anne likes him."
"Why?"
"He IS on the Brinsmade charity list."
" He is not on their charity list, nor on any other," said
Virginia, quickly. " Stephen Brice is the last person who
would submit to charity."
" And you are the last person whom I supposed would
stand up for him," cried her cousin, surprised and
nettled.
There was an instant's silence.
" I want to be fair. Max," she said quietly. " Pa offered
them our Glencoe House last summer at a low price, and they
insisted on paying what Mr. Edwards ga e five years ago,
— or nothing. You know that I detest a Yankee as much
as you do," she continued, indignation growing in her
voice. " I did not come out here with you to be insulted."
With her hand on the rail, she made as if to rise. Clar-
ence was perforce mollified.
" Don't go, Jinny," he said beseechingly. " I didn't
mean to make you angry — "
" I can't see why you should always be dragging in this
Mr. Brice," she said, almost tearfully. (It will not do
to pause now and inquire into Virginia's logic.) " I came
out to hear what you had to tell me."
" Jinny, I have been made second lieutenant of Com-
pany A."
" Oh, Max, I am so glad ! I am so proud of you I"
"I suppose that you have heard the result of the Octo-
ber elections, Jinny."
j
t '.J
232
THE CRISIS
" Pa said something about them to-night," she answered ;
" wlnr ? "
" It looks now as if there were a chance of the Republi-
cans winning," he answered. But it was elation that
oau^t his voice, not ffloom.
" I ou mean that this white trash Lincoln may be Presi-
dent ? " she exclaimed, seizing his arm.
"Never! he cried. "The South will not submit to
that until everv man who can bear arms is shot down."
He paused. The strains of a waltz mingles with talk and
laughter floated out of the open window. His voice
dropped to a low intensity. "We are getting ready in
Company A," he said; "the traitors will be dropped. We
are getting ready to fight for Missouri and for the South."
The girl felt his excitement, his exaltation.
"And if you were not. Max, I should disown you," she
whispered.
He leaned forward until his face was close to hers.
"And now? "he said.
" I am ready to work, to starve, to go to prison, to
help — "
He sank back heavil * into the comer.
" Is that all. Jinny ? "
" All ? " she repeated. " Oh, if a woman could only do
more I " -^
" And is there nothing — for me ? "
Virginia straightened.
"Are you doing this for a reward?" she demanded.
" No," he answered passionately. « You know that I
am not. Do you remember when you told me that I was
good ior nothing, that I lacked purpose ? "
"Yes, Max."
"I have the ight it over since," he went on rapidly;
" you were right. I cannot work — it is not in me. But
I have always felt that I could make a name for myself
for you — in the army. I am sure that I could command
a regiment. And now the time is coming."
She did not answer him, but absently twisted the fringe
of his buckskins in her fingers.
AT MR. BRINSMABE'S GATE
233
" Ever since I have known what love is I have loved
yon. Jinny. It was so when we climbed the cherry trees
at Bellegarde. And you loved me then — I know you
did. You loved me when I went East to school at the
MUitary Institute. But it has not been the same of late,"
he faltered. « Somethii^ has happened. I felt it first on
that day you rode out to Bellegarde when you said that my
life was of no use. Jinnv, I don't ask much. I am con-
tent to prove myself. War is coming, and we shall have
to free ourselves from Yankee insolence. It is what we
have both wished for. When I am a creneral, will vou
marry me ? " o ^ j
For a wavering instant she might have thrown herself
into his outstretched arms. Why not, and have done with
sickening doubts ? Perhaps her hesitation hung on the
very boyishness of his proposal. Perhaps the revelation
that she did not then fathom was that he had not devel-
oped since those childish days. But even while she held
back, came the beat of hoofs on the gravel below them,
and one of the Bellegarde servants rode into the light pour-
ing through the open door. He called for his master.
Clarence muttered his dismay as he followed his cousin
to the steps.
" What is it ? " asked Virginia, alarmed.
" Nothing ; I forgot to sign the deed to the Elleardsville
property, and Worington wants it to-night." Cutting
short Sambo's explanations, Clarence vaulted on the horse.
Virginia was at his stirrup. Leaning over in the saddle,
he whispered : '* I'll be back in a quarter of an hour.
Willyou wait?"
" Yes," she said, so that he barely heard.
»»Here?"
She nodded.
He was away at a gallop, leaving Virginia standing
bareheaded to the night, alone. A spring of pity, of
Mfection for Clarence suddenly welled up within her.
There came again something of her old admiration for
a boy, impetuous and lovable, who had tormented and
defended her with the same hand.
«.jii\jLi',.:': t^E-. ■
234
THE CRISIS
Patriotum, stronger in Virginia than many of ub now
can conceive, was on Clarence's side. Ambition was
strong in her likewise. Now was ^ae all afire w5th the
thought that she, a woman, might by a single word give
the South a leader. That word would steady him, for
there was no question of her influence. She trembled at
the reckless lengths he might go in his dejection, and a
memory returned to her of a di»y at Glencoe, before he
had gone off to school, when she had refused to drive
with him. Colonel Carvel had been away from home.
She had pretended not to care. In spite of Ned's be-
seechings Clarence had ridden off on a wild thorough-
bred colt and had left her to an afternoon of agony.
Vividly she recalled his home-coming in the twilight, his
coat torn and muddv, a bleeding cut on his forehead, and
the colt quivering tame.
In those days she had thought of herself unreservedly
as meant for him. Dash and courage and generosity
had been the beacon lights on her horizon. But now ?
Were there not other qualities? Yes, and Clarence
should have these, too. She would put them into him.
She also had been at fault, and perhaps it was because
of her wavering loyalty to him that he had not gained
them.
Her name spoken within the hall startled Virginia
from her reverie, and she began to walk rapidly down
the winding drive. A fragment of the air to which they
were dancing brought her to a stop. It was the Jenny
Lind waltz. And with it came clear and persistent the
image she had sought to shut out and failed. As if to
escape it now, she fairly ran all the way to the light at
the entrance and hid in the magnolias clustered beside the
gateway. It was her cousin's name she whispered over
and over to herself as she waited, vibrant with a strange
excitement. It was as though the very elements might
thwart her will. Clarence would be delayed, or they
would miss her at the house, and search. It seemed an
eternity before she heard the muffled thud of a horse
cantering on the clay road.
fW'F'^
AT MR. BRIKSMADE'S OATE
235
Virginia stood out in the light fairly between the gate-
Cta. Too late she saw the horse rear as the rider flew
k in his seat, for she had seized the bridle. The
beams from the lamp fell upon a Revolutionary horseman,
with cocked hat and swora and high riding-boots. For
her his profile was in silhouette, and the bold nose and
chin belonged to but one man she knew. He was Stephen
Brice. She gave a cry of astonishment and dropped the
rein in dismay. Hot shame was surging in her face.
Her impulse was to fly, nor could she tell what force it
was that stayed her feet.
As for Stephen, he stood high in his stirrups and stared
down at the girl. She was standing full in the light, —
her lashes fallen, her face crimson. But no sound of
surprise escaped him because it was she, nor did he won-
der at her gown of a gone-bv century. Her words came
first, and they were low. She did not address him by
name.
"I — I thought that you were my cousin," she ■'aid.
" What must you think of me I "
Stephen was calm.
*'I expected it," he answered.
She gave a step backward; and raised her frightened
9ye8 to his.
" You expected it ? " she faltered.
»' I can't say whv," he said quickly, " but it seems to
me ds if this had happened before. I know that I am
talking nonsense — "
Virginia was trembling now. And her answer was not
of her own choosing.
"It has happened before," she cried. "But where?
And when ? "
"It may have been in a dream," he answered her,
"that I saw you as you stand there by my bridle. I even
know the gown you wear."
She put her hand to her forehead. Had it been a
dream ? And what mystery was it that sent him here this
night of all nights? She could not even have said that it
was her own voice making reply.
'M
230
THE (CRISIS
gon." '* * '"'* """««"•" he "id, .11 wn» of .tr«„geM«
-hould not have mentiLd th«. 7?^e» ^"^1 2
She looked up at him rather wildly,
fori"'^ I who Stopped you," she Ld ; "I was waiting
" For whom ? "
The interruption brought remembrance.
"wrdidTu?!/?:?"'^'" '*"••"' »-«» fl/^"
It was a mad joy that Stephen felt.
« oriit ^"^^ "^^^ T *? °°°»« • " ^^ demanded.
Oh, why do you ask that ? " she cried « Yon Vnn«
I would not have been here had I though you were com
2^fx«lor.-^-:f£r£Z
ao;!r-.--rN«ordo^fs^;-^^^
:4ir%'
£*-?'
i
I
"TUKV TOLl> HK VOU WKHii
NUT COMJNO'"
■jr'T'WffcK:.
AT MR. BRINSMADE'S GATE
237
because you believe one thing, and I another. But I
assure you that it is mv misfortune rather than my fault
that I have not pleased you, — that I have met you only
to anger you."
He paused, for she did not seem to hear him. She was
gazing at the distant lights moving on the river. Had
e come one step farther ? — but he did not. Presently
she knew that he was speaking again, in the same meas-
ured tone.
** Had Miss Brinsmade told me that my presence here
would cause you annoyance, I should have stayed away.
I hope that you will think nothing of the — the mistake
at the gate. You may be sure that I shall not mention it.
Good night. Miss Carvel."
He lined his hat, mounted his horse, and was gone.
She had not even known that he could ride — that was
strangely the first thought. The second discovered her-
self intent upon the rhythm of his canter as it died south-
ward upon the road. There was shame in this, mingled
with a thankfulness that he would not meet Clarence.
She hurried a few steps toward the house, and stopped
again. What shoulcl she say to Clarence now? Wnat
could she say to him ?
But Clarence was not in her head. Ringing there was
her talk with Stephen Brice, as though it were still rapidly
going on. His questions and her replies — over and over
again. Each trivial incident of an encounter real and yet
unreal I His transformation in the uniform, which had
seemed so natural. Though she strove to make it so, noth-
ing of all this was unbearable now, nor the remembrance
of the firm touch of his arm about her ; nor yet again his
calling her by her name.
Absently she took her way again up the drive, now
pausing, now going on, forgetful. First it was alarm she
felt when her cousin leaped down at her side, — then dread.
** I thought I should never get back," he cried breath-
lessly, as he threw his reins to Sambo. '* I ought not tu
have asked you to wait outside. Did it seem long. Jinny ? "
She answered something. There was a seat near by,
'j.
.^
238
THE CRISIS
under the trees. To lead her to it he seized her hand, but
it was limp and cold, and a sudden fear came inlio his
voice.
"Jinny I"
"Yes.'^'
She resisted, and he dropped her fingers. She remem-
bered long how he stood in the scattered light from the
bright windo^^s, a tall, black figure of dismay. She felt
the yearning in his eyes. But her own response, warm
half an hour since, was lifeless.
" Jinny," he said, " what is the matter ? "
"Nothing, Max. Only I was very foolish to say I
would wait for you."
" Then — then you won't *aarry me ? "
"Oh, Max," she cried, "it is no time to talk of that
now. I feel to-night as if something dreadful were to
happen."
" Do you mean war ? " he asked.
"Yes," she said. "Yes."
" But war is what we want," he cried, " what we have
prayed for, what we have both been longing for to-night,
Jinny. War alone will give us our rights — "
He stopped short. Virginia had bowed her head in her
hands, and he saw her shoulders shaken by a sob. Clar-
ence bent over her in bewilderment and anxiety.
" You are not well. Jinny," he said.
"I am not well," she answered. "Take me into the
house."
But when they went in at the door, he saw that her eyes
were dry.
Those were the days when a dozen young ladies were
in the habit of staying all night after a dance in the coun-
try ; of long whispered talks (nay, not always whispered)
until early morning. And of late breakfasts. Miss Rus-
sell had not been the only one who remarked Virginia's
long absence with mr cousin ; but Puss found her friend
in one of those moods which even she dared not disturb.
Accordingly Miss Russell stayed all night with Anne.
AT MB. BEINSMADE'S GATE 239
unprofitable discussion as to whether Virginia wereatfalt
engaged to her cousin, and in vain queried ovTr a^othT
unsolved mvsterv. This mystery was taken up^tth;
breakfast table t^e next morning/when Miss C^r^vel sur
f^ h^ai7:X^t ^"^ ''' -^'' '-^'^'' ^^^^^^-
up after a ball until noon." •' » " ""^ gei
Virginia smiled a little nervously.
go! MraSl^'' ^^" ^^ ^^^ '"^ '^ *-° -^- ^o-
-/'^^'/^""^'"^y' "^y dear," he said. "But I under-
got Bet^X''^^^ ^- "^ -"^ '- ^- *^^« '^^^-o"
tol^fn"'''' ^^^ ^^^'- "T^-*^ »« --ething I wish
"ril drive her in, Pa," said Jack. "You're too old
Will you go with me. Jinny ? " ^^*
"Of course, Jack."
"But you must eat some breakfast. Jinny," said Mrs
Brmsmade, glancing anxiously at the girl. ^
«Vi. ^^°^"^*^® P"* **®^° his newspaper.
" Where was Stephen Brice last night. Jack ? " he
ottin^LL^.^'^™^ ^"^^ "--y *^^'^« " ^k-
" Why sir," said Jack, " that's what we can't make out
Tom Catherwood, who is always doing queer th^l vmi
know went to a Black Repub/can meeting l^tngh' S
met Stephen there They came out in Tom's & to
the Ru^ellsN and Tom got into his clothes first and^ode
norse. But he never got here. At least I can find no
one who saw him. Did you, Jinnv 9 » ^" "°** ''^
But Virginia did not raise her eyes from her plate A
" Thirm?.trr'''", *""^^ '^^-^"^^ ^™- B""«-ade.
mere might have been an accident, Jack," said that
lady, with concern. " Send Nicodemus over ti Mr^ Ru^-
'l
idl
MO
THE CRIgIS
sell 8 at once to inquire. You know that Mr. Brice it a
Northerner, and may not be able to ride."
Jack laughed.
« He rides like a dragoon, mother," said he. « I don't
know where he picked it up."
"The reMon i mentioned him," said Mr. Brinsmade,
lifting the blanket sheet and adjusting his i^)ectacle8, " was
because his name caught my eye in this paper. His speech
last niglit at the Library Hall is one o! the few sensible
Kepubhcan speeches I have read. I think it very remark-
able for a man as young as he." Mr. Brinsmade began to
read : " ' While waiting for the speaker of the evening, who
was half an hour late, Mr. Tiefel rose in the audience and
called loudly for Mr. Brice. Many citizens in the hall
were astonished at the cheering which followed the men-
tion of this namd. Mr. Brice is a young lawyer with
a quiet manner and a determined face, wlw has 8acri6ced
much to the Party's cause this summer. He was intro-
duced by Judge Whipple, in whose office he is. He had
hardly begun to speak before he had the ear of every one
m the house. Mr. Brice's persons. 'ty ig prepossessing,
his words are spoken Rharply, and lie has a singular em-
phasis at times which seems to drive his arguments into
the mmds of his hearers. We venture to say that if party
orators here and elsewhere were as logiad and temperate
as Mr. Brice ; if, like him, they appealed to reason rather
than to passion, those bitter and lanM«itable diflferences
which threaten our country's peace might be amicably
adjusted.' Let me read what he said."
But lie was interrupted by the rising of Virginia. A
high color was on the girl's face as she said : —
" Please excuse me, Mrs. Brinsmade, I must go and tret
ready." ** •
" But you've eaten nothing, my dear."
Virginia did not reply. She was already on the stairs.
•' You ought not have read that, Pa," Mr. Jack remon-
strated ; "you know that she detests Yankees."
CHAPTER XIV
THE BREACH BBCOMB8 TOO WIDI
Abraham Linooln!
biufL^ J^* of Breed's Hill in Charlestown an American
SJLI Al°r^ T? «P«^ *« ^« uttermost partToi ^^
fi- ? fu ^^- ^?? ^^'^ "°»° of the storm gatherini? in
the South grew suddenly loud and louder. ^'""^""S^ '"
UiH^Sl^'^.K"^^ '^^'^ *^^ "^^« in *h« black headlines and
Mm Tlf *^^ newspaper, a sense of the miracXuTuJ^n
him. There again was the angled, low-ceiled room of^
countnr tavern, reeking with 4d and Cm and^^^oi^
tion ; /or a central figure the man of surp^fng hoiS^HneS"
— coatless, tieless, and ve8tle8s,_telliW^a -tor^ inIS
-yerlnd in^t^l"'^? ^' ''''' '' ™^^^ "-" st^^st^n^
— yea, and intolerable — to many that this comedian nf
A TJ I a. a«gnif:8d by Washington and the Adamsfts
s^Xr^^^Z^lT'' ^-^^-had^erruX
heels of Republican exultation^ Meni-re Ir^foS^
from Charleston, the storm centre. ThTtS w^ctX
Abraham Lincoln got to Washington ? ^
Ufl: "! tu L™*""""^ ^»''^3^ »n December Stephen arrived
late at the office to find Richter sitting idle mi his^^
concern graven on his face. ^ *^^*'
Dered^^:\",^f f'^c^l no breakfast, Stephen," he whig-
pered. "Listen/ Shadrach tells me he has been doinl
that since six this morninir. whfin h« „.* hi- n~-- "^
242
THE CRISIS
Stephen liatened, and he heard the Judge pacing and
pacing in his room. Presently the door w» flung^open,
and tSev saw Mr. Whipple standing in the threshoa stem
and dishevelled. Astonishment did not pause here. He
came out and sat down in Stephen's chair, striking the
newspaper in his hand, and they feared at first that his
mind had wandered.
" Propitiate I "he cried, "propitiate, propitiate, and aeain
propitiate. HowWOLord?*^ Suddenly he tinedXn
btephen, who was Irightened. But now his voice was
natur^, and he thrust the paper into the young man's
lap. "Have you read the President's messaije to Con-
^®S-**'-« ^^ ^®^P °»« ^^ I a°» spared to caU that
wobbling Buchanan President. Read it. Read it, sir.
You have a legal brain. Perhaps you can teU me why.
If a man admite that it is wrong for a state to abandon
this Union, he cannot call upon Congress for men and
money to bnng her back. No, this weakling lets Floyd
stock Uie Southern arsenals. He pays tributi to Barbafy.
He IS for bnbing tiiem not to be angnr. Take Cuba from
bDwn, says he, and steal the rest of Mexico that the maw
of slavery may be filled, and the demon propitiated."
They dared not answer him. And so he went back into
his room, shutting the door. That day no clients saw him,
not even those poor ones dependent on his charity whom
he had never before denied. Richter and Stephen took
counsel together, and sent Shadrach out for his dinner.
rhree weeks ^e<^ '"bere arrived a sparkling Sunday,
brougM down the va.. of the Missouri from tLe frozen
^rthwest. The Saturday had been soggy and warm.
Thu^day had seen South Carolina leave tS^t UnionS
which she was born, amid prayers and the ringing of bells.
Tuesday was to be Christmas day. A young fady, who
had l^tened to a solemn sermon of Dr. pdthelwkite's
shpped out of Church before the prayer werrend^Sid
hurned into that deserted i3ortion of the town aboui the
Court House where ob week days business held its sway.
&he stopped once at the bottom of the grimy flight of steos
leading to Judge Whipple's office. At the top she pau^^d
THE BREACH BECOMER TOO WIDE 243
thumbed law books UyneX piled 8nl ^°** V^'"
hesitating step in this LerJJi^' Then,^aSTf by a^rl^
an™'?"""''' '^' "^^ ""«°'* y°" <^oming to dinner
Th!Uk fell tSVel^^f '"" ""'^' ^^ «^^ ^--•
you^l;."'^'''" "^^ ^^^'^ »>~^«^y' "I came to get
Never before had she known him to turn awav from
man or woman, but now Judge WhipDle drew hS^han5^
kerchief from his pocket andlfew K^se Xlen^^^^^^^
woman 8 intuition told her that locked t^t n hU^ieart
was what he longed to say, and could not The sh^
black overcoat he wore was on the bed. Virginia nicS
It UD and held it out to him, an appeal in her fves ^
He got into it. Then she hanSS Mm ffs^a?' M.n.
people walking home from church tLmornLgmarvdleJ
as they saw these two on Locust Street together the voun ^
girl supporting the elderly man over theSty^^^^^^^
thec^r^^^ngs. For neighbor had begun to iX'JlSru'po'n
Colonel Carvel beheld them from his armchair bv th«
«i ting-room window and leaned foiwaid^S a Lrt
His hjs moved as he closed his Bible reVerentlv tmi
marked h« place. At the foot of the s to he surprised
Jackson by waving him aside, for the Cdonel hEf
flung open the door and held iut his LdThis fSnd
^ hV^vf it"''""' ^"^"^'^ '^^"' ^^ ^^ own LmbLd
vf^.'i^ the Colonel. "Silas, we've missed you."
hJSX dont'ri^ftr;^'"^'^* ^'^ ^^^'^ camJ deeply.
«he done nght? Could any good come of it all?
1^ firu''"^ "?"• ^ ""1*1 any good c
Judge Whipple <Sd not go in at the door.
He stood uii-
344
THE CRISIS
oompromisingly planted on the threshold, his head fluni?
baok, and actual fierceness in his stare.
h "d^° yo^ fir»«« ^0 can Ifeep off the subject, Comyn?"
Even Mr. Carvel, so used to the Judge's ways, was a
tat taken aback by this question. It set him tUMinff at
his goatee, and his voice was not quite steiidV as he
answered : — ->. j
"God knows, SUas. We are human, and we can only
try. •'
Then Mr. Whipple marched in. It lacked a quarter of
an hour of dinner, — a crucial period to tax the resources
of any woman. Virginia led the talk, but oh, the pathetic
lameness of it. Her own mind was wandering when it
should not, and recollections she had tried to strangle had
sprunpr up once. more. Only that morning in church slie
had hved over again the scene by Mr. Brinsmade's rate,
and It was then that a wayward but resistless impulse to eo
to the Judge s office had seized her. The thought of the
old man lonely and bitter in his room decided her. On
her knees she prayed that she might save the bond between
him and her father. For the Colonel had been moroHe on
bundays, and had taken to reading the Bible, a custom he
had not had smce she was a child.
In the dining-room Jackson, bomng and smiling, pulled
out the Judges chair, and got his customary curt nod as
a reward. Virginia carved.
"Oh, Uncle Silas," she cried, "I am so glad that we
have a wild turkey. And you shall have your side-bone."
rhe girl carved deftly, feverishly, talking the while, aided
by that most kind and accomplished of hosts, her father
In the corner the dreaded skeleton of the subject grinned
sardomcally. Were they going to be able to keep it off '
Ihere was to be no help from Judge Whipple, who sat in
grim sUence. A man who feels his soul burning is not
given to small talk. Virginia alone had ever tSssesse.l
the power to make him forget.
'* Uncle Silas, I am sure there are some things about
our tnp that we never told you. How we saw Napoleon
THE BEEACH BECOMES TOO WIDE 246
Ei,l?„t ^"i* 'i"' Empress driving in the Bois, .nd how
Eurtnie smiled and Bowed at thi people. I never mw
v!r^t.tKt .'" ""' ''■""'" ""• *^« '^'^■
dldn'ut'-^^^A^* "* S^^'^ "'* » ■»»' l»rf in England,
n . 1, V /"i '■"*• W« ""»»'' l'«l£ as nice as the Prino.
™ buiitl'H^S^r '» ^nSf^y- •» wi"do,^:;s
"If- ^•" "^d the Colonel, smiling.
«.„ri^ Countess ww nice to me," Continued the mrl
J^ys'^vZ^l^^P ^'- But LoM Jermyn^ii:
B'.FS'.?"'' "" 't'oking hU goatee.
Jud« a^""'"'" **"* •">"»«• '»»y- J.ck«>n, help the
J! hli "^ T'T"''^ drawing a breath. " I'm goinif to
te 1 him about that queer club where ny erea^fnd
father used to bet with Charles Fox. W^ Sw aTr«t
SJ^^tir'"':^ ^t^^ Carvel had been " EngE
Ja'^^V^^^^^ ^?^ ^"^ country and for his flajr, Viririnia "
?^nnM "i^l"' "^^^ ^^ «^"°^V spoken until Sien^ "n;
lovP Lr ^f *° ''^^ *^^°^ now!when those who should
loy^ that country are leaving it in passion."
i.«t Tu"^*? \ **®*V ^^«"ce. Virginia did not dare to
look at her father. Jut the Colonefsaid, gentry -•
"Not m passion, Silas, but in sorrow." '
The Judge tightened his lips. But the effort was b«.
yond h,m, and the flood within him broke W
"Colonel Caryel," he cried, "Sc^th Ca^na i. ^od!
^'»,
246
THE CRISIS
i
■I
*
i
She w departing in tin, in order that a fienduh practice
may be perpetuated. If her people stopped to think they
would know that slavery cannot exUt except by means of
this Union. But let this milksop of a President do his
worst. We have chosen a man who has the strenjrth to
say, ' You $haU not go I * " *^
It was an awful moment. The saving grace of it was
that respect and love for her father fflled Virginia's heart.
In his just anger Colonel Carvel remembered that he was
il 5?**/°** '^^^^ ^ **^^ only of his affection for his
old fnend.
" To invade a sovereign state, sir, u a crime against the
sacred spint of this government," he said.
"There is no such thing as a sovereign state, sir,"
excUimed the Judge, hotly. "I am an American, and
not a Missounan.
" When the time comes, sir," said the Colonel, with dig-
nity, "Missouri will join with her sister sovereign states
against oppression." *
" Missouri will not secede, sir."
« Why not, sir?" demanded the Colonel.
" Because, sir, when the worst comes, the Soothing Syrup
men wiU rally for the Union. And there are enough lovd
people here to keep her straight"
"Dutchmen, sirl Hessians I Foreign Republican hire-
"°gf» »"•» exclaimed the Colonel, standing up. "We
shall drive them like sheep if they oppose us. You are
anllmg them now that they may murder your own Wood,
when you think the time is ripe."
The Colonel did not hear Virginia leave the room, so softiy
had she gone. He made a grand figure of a man as he stood
up, straight and tall, those gray eyes arkindle at last. But
the fire died as quickly as it had flared. Pity had come
and quenched it, — pity that an unselfish life of suffering
and loneliness should be crowned with these. The Colonel
loMfed then to clasp his friend in his arms. Quarrels they
imd had by the hundred, never yet a misunderstandiiiif.
God had given to SUas Whipple a nature stern and harsh
that repeUed all save the charitable few whose gift it was
^"imm-
THE BREACH BECOMES TOO WIDE 24:
^aa^yir **»«•«':'»««' •«<! Cdonel Carvel had been the
chief of them. Bu now the Judge's v«ion was clouded.
Steadj^mg himself by his chair, Tie had risen glaring, the
^ skin twitehing on his sallow face. He be%i fg^Uy
but hu voice shook ere he had finished. ^
nJlf^^K"*^ ^*^'^'" "^^ ^*» "^ "P^^'t tJ»»t the day has
come when you go your way and I go mine. It wHl be
better if — we do not meet a^ain, sir.'^
.f^tfj^i?^ ¥ ^T®*^ from the man whose friendship Imd
J^I^t^ ^"'.w'?^™ °^ ^**" ^^ *»*d »»t««d will, l.is
enemies, from that house which had been for so loner Lis
nor^H^ K **" ^If ?**:, 1?*® •'"^fi^ ^id not see him,
nor did he see the tearful face of a young «rl leaning
over the banisters above. Ice was o/ the^Snes. a"!
Mr. Whipple, blmded by a moisture strange to his eves
Before he reached the Twttom a stronger arm had seized
his own, and was helping him.
a Zfitiw ^ ^""'^^J^ ^"^ ?y^ ^^*^ ^ «J«e^«' and turned
a defiant face upon Captain Elijah Br^nt-then his voice
h?Aa t *u ?'.i^*^ suddenly gone, and his thoughts
had flowii back to the Coloners thousand charities. ^
" Lige, he said, " Li^ it has come."
In answer the Captain pressed the Judge's hand, nod-
ding vigorously to hide his rising emotion. There Was a
«M°V^";»H«^^" f^i^^' Whipple, presently.
"My (JodI" cned the Captain, «f wL.fi I knew."
to bi^;i?sS;r;SytS%^^^'^' "^"'" too good a man
The Captain choked.
nr»f7«««r.*^i''T^ ^ be fooled, Lige," he said, with a
note near to pleading "The time has come when you
Bell people and the Douglas people have got to decide.
Never m rny life did I know it to So good to^dodge a que^I
faon. We've got to be white or blS^k, Lige. ^ob^?s
^^S''''\^% '°' .^^'^ «^7^' And don't l?t yourself be
fooled with Constitutionaf Union Meetings, Ld ConS
*ii.
; I
im
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MICROCOPY RBOUITION TiST CHART
(ANSI and rSO TEST CHART No. 2)
Li |Z8
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if 13.
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inc
1653 East Main Strict
RochMter. Mm York U609 USA
<716) 482 - 0300 - Phoo.
(716) 288 -5989 -Fox
248
THE CRISIS
tional Union Meetings, and compromises. The time is
almost here, Lige, when it will take a rascal to steer a
middle course."
Captain Lige listened, and he shifted from one foot to
the other, and rubbed his hands, which were red. Some
odd trick of the mind had put into his head two people —
Eliphalet Hopper and Jacob Cluyrae. Was he like them?
" Lige, you ve got to decide. Do you love your coun-
try, sir? Can you look on while our own states defy us,
and not lift a hand ? Can you sit still while the Governor
and all the secessionists in this state are plotting to take
Missouri, too, cut of the Union ? The militia is riddled
with rebels, and the rest are forming companies of minute-
men."
"And you Black Republicans," the Captain cried,
I* have organized your Dutch Wideawakes, and are arm-
ing them to resist Americans bom."
"They are Americans by our Constitution, sir, which
the South pretends to revere," cried the Judge. "And
they are showing themselves better Americans than many
who have been on the soil for generations."
" My sympathies are with the South," said the Captain,
doggedly, "and my love is for the South."
" And your conscience ? " said the Judge.
There was no answer. Both men raised their eyes to
the house of him whose loving hospitality had been a light
in the lives of both. When at last the Captain spoke, iiis
voice was rent with feeling.
" Judge," he began, " when I was a poor young man on
the old Vicksburg, second otncer under old Stetson, Colonel
Carvel used to take me up to his house on Fourth Street
to dinner. And he gave me the clothes on my back, so
that I might not be ashamed before the fashion which came
there. He treated me like a son, sir. One day the sheriff
sold the Vichihurg. You remember it. That left me high
and dry in the mud. Who bought her, sir? Colonel Car-
vel. And he says to me, ' Lige, you're captain now, the
youngest captain on the river. And she's your boat. You
can pay me principal and interest when you get ready.*
THE BREACH BECOMES TOO WIDE l'49
Judge Whipple, I never had any other home than right in
Tinnv • J "'^'J ^^^ *°y *>*^«' Pl«^"'e than b"fn^nS
Jmny presente, and tryin' to show 'em gratitude h!
took me into his house and cared for me It a time when
ih7n"f If a^° V^' ?'t^ ^^""^ ^'^ '^' stevedoi^s-
ott^oV^p^tr n:^^^^^^^^^^^ ::i
cVdVg'hrf^;?h:v^^h^^^^ *^^" '^^ '^ ^- -^ -^'
wJl!!f^'^"i^^.f^*^^^ ^^°^«^^ °° his hickory stick and
walked off without a word. For a while Captain iZe
'^t^^^^'"''^' Then he slowly climbeS the /tef:
CHAPTER XV
'V
MUTTERINQS
Early in the next year, 1861, — that red year in the
Calendar of our history, — several gentlemen met secretly
in the dingy counting-room of a prominent citizen to con-
sider how the state of Missouri might he saved to the
Union. One of these gentlemen was Judge Whipple;
another, Mr. Brinsmade ; and another a masterly and fear-
less lawyer who afterward became a general, and who shall
be mentioned in these pages as the Leader. By his daush
and boldness and statesmanlike grasp of a black situation
St. Louis was snatched from the very bosom of secession.
Alas, that chronicles may not stretch so as to embrace
all great men of a time. There is Captain Nathaniel Lyon,
— name with the fateful ring. Nathaniel Lyon, with the
wild red hair and blue eye, born and bred a soldier, ordered
to St. Louis, and become subordinate to a wavering officer
of ordnance. Lyon was one who brooked no trifling. He
had the face of a man who knows his mind and intention ;
the quick speech and action which go with this. Red tape
made by the reel to bind him, he broke. Courts-martial
liad no terrors for him. He proved the ablest of lieutenants
to the strong civilian who was the Leader. Both were the
men of the occasion. If God had willed that the South
should win, there would have been no occasion.
Even as Judge Whipple had said, the time was come for
all men to decide. Out of the way, all hopes of com-
promises that benumbed Washington. No Constitutional
Unionists, no Douglas Democrats, no Republicans now.
All must work to save the ship. The speech-making was
not done with yet. Partisanship must be overcome, and pa-
triotism instilled in its place. One day Steplien Brice saw
260
MUTTERINGS
2ol
the Leader cro into Judge Whipple's room, and presently
he was sent for. After that he was heard of in various out-
of-the-way neighborhoods, exhorting all men to forget
their quarrels and uphold the flag.
The Leader himself knew not night from day in his toil,
— organizing, conciliating, compelling when necessary!
Letters passed between him and Springfield. And, after
that solemn inauguration, between him and Washington.
It was an open secret that the Governor of Missouri held
out his arms to Jefferson Davis, just elected President of
the new Southern Confederacy. It soon became plain U)
the feeblest brain what the Leader and his friends had per-
ceived long before, that the Governor intended to use the
militia (pureed of Yankee sympathizers) to save the state
for the South.
The Government Arsenal, with its stores of arms and am-
munition, was the prize. This building and its grounds
lay to the south of the City, overiooking the river. It was
in command of a doubting major of ordnance ; the corps of
officers of Jefferaon Barracks hard by was mottled with
secession. Trade was still. The Mississippi below was
practically closed. In all the South, Pickens and Sumter
alone stood stanch to the flag. A general, wearing the
uniform of the army of the United States, surrendered the
whole state of Texas.
The St. Louis Arsenal was next in succession, and the
little band of regulars at the Barracks was powerless to
save it. What could the Leader and Captain Lyon do
without troops? That was the question that rang in
Stephen's head, and in the heads of many others. For, if
President Lincoln sent troops to St. Louis, that would
precipitate the trouble. And the President had other uses
for the handful in the army.
There came a rain-sodden night when a mysterious mes-
sage arrived at the little house in Olive Street. Both
anxiety and pride were in Mrs. Brice's eyes as they followed
her son out of the door. At Twelfth Street two men were
lounging on the comers, each of whom glanced at him list-
lessly as he passed. He went up a dark and narrow stair
252
THE CRISIS
t\
l!
fj
into a lighted hall with shrouded windows. Men with
sober faces were forming line on the sawdust of the floors.
The Leader was there giving military orders in a low voice.
That marked the beginning of the aggressive Union move-
ment.
Stephen, standing apart at the entrance, remarked that
many of the men were Germans. Indeed, he spied his
friend Tiefel there, and presently Richter came from the
ranks to greet him.
" My fnend," he said, " you are made second lieutenant
of our company, the Black JaegertJ^
" But I have never drilled in my life," said Stephen.
"Never mind Come and see the Leader."
The Leader, smiling a little, put a vigorous stop to his
protestations, and told him to buy a tactics. The next
man Stephen saw was l^ig Tom Catherwood, who blushed
to the line of his hair as ne returned Stephen's grip.
"Tom, what does this mean?" he asked.
" Well," said Tom, embarrassed, " a fellow has got to do
what he think's right."
" And your family? " asked Stephen.
A spasm crossed Tom's face.
" I reckon they'll disown me, Stephen, when they find
it out"
Richter walked home as far as Stephen's house. He
was to take the Fifth Street car for South St. Louis.
And they talked of Tom's courage, and of the broad and
secret military organization the Leader had planned that
night. But Stephen did not sleep till the dawn. Was he
doing right ? Could he afliord to risk his life in the war that
was coming, and leave his mother dependent upon charity ?
It was shortly after this that Stephen paid his last visit
for many a long day upon Miss Puss Russell. It was a
Sunday afternoon, and Puss was entertaining, as usual, a
whole parlor-full of young men, whose leanings and sym-
Eathies Stephen divined while taking off his coat in the
all. Then he heard Miss Russell cry : —
" I believe that they are drilling those nasty Dutch hire-
lings in secret."
MUTTERINGS
253
I am sure they are," said George Catherwood. « One
of the halls is on Twelfth Street, and they have sentries
lasted out so that you can't get near them. Pa has an
idea that Tom goes there. And he told him that if he
ever got evidence of it, he'd show him the door."
"Do you really think that Tom is with the Yankees'"
asked Jack Brinsmade.
'' Tom's a fool," said George, with emphasis, " but he
wn t a coward. He'd just as soon tell Pa to-morrow that
he was driUing if the Yankee leaders wished it known."
" Virginia will never speak to him again," said Eugenie,
in an awed voice.
"Pooh!" said Puss, "Tom never had a chance with
Jinny. Did he, George? Clarence is in high favor now.
Did you ever know any one to change so, since this mili-
tary business has begun ? He acts like a colonel. I hear
that they are thinking of making him captain of a com-
pany of dragoons."
" They are," George answered. " And that is the com-
pany I intend to join."
"Well," began Puss, with her usual recklessness, "it's
a good thing for Clarence that all this is happenine. I
know somebody else — " re &
Poor Stephen in the hall knew not whether to stay or fly
An accident decided the question. Emily Russell came
down the stairs at that instant and spoke to him. As the
two entered the parlor, there was a hush pregnant with
many things unsaid. Puss's face was scarlet, but her hand
was cold as she held it out to him. For the first time in
that house he felt like an intruder. Jack Brinsmade
bowed with great ceremony, and took his departure.
There was scarcely a distant cordiality in the greeting of
the other voung men. And Puss, whose tongue was loosed
again, talked rapidly of entertainments to which Stephen
either had not been invited, or from which he had stayed
away. The rest of the company were almost moodily
silent. "^
Profoundly depressed, Stephen sat stmght in the velvet
chair, awaiting a seasonable time to bring his visit to a close.
L
254
THE CRISIS
sli-
This was to be the last, then, of his intercourse with a warm-
hearted and lovable people. This was to be the end of his
friendship with this impetuous and generous girl who had
done so much to brighten his life since he had'come to St.
Louis. Henceforth this house would be shut to him, and
all others save Mr. Brinsmade's.
Presently, in one of the intervals of Miss Russell's fever-
ish talk, he rose to go. Dusk was gathering, and a deep
and ominous silence penetrated like the shadows into the
tall room. No words came to him. Impulsively, almost
tearfully. Puss put her hand in his. Then she pressed it
unexpectedly, so that he had to gulp down a lump that
was in his throat. Just then a loud cry was heard from
without, the men jumped from their chairs, and something
heavy dropped on the carpet.
Some ran to the window, others to the door. Directly
across the street was the house of Mr. Harmsworth, a noted
Union man. One of the third story windows was open,
and out of it was pouring a mass of gray wood smoke.
George Catherwooa was the first to speak.
" I hope it will burn down," he cried.
Stephen picked up the object on the floor, which had
dropped from his pocket, and handed it to him.
It was a revolver.
CHAPTER XVI
THE GUNS OP tiUMTEB
Winter had vanished. Spring was come with a hush
Toward a little island set in the blue waters of Charleston
harbor anxious eyes were strained.
Was the flag still there ?
God alone may count the wives and mothers who lis-
tened in the still hours of the night for the guns of Sumter
One sultry night in April Stephen's mother awoke with
fear m her heart, for she had heard them. Hark ! that
IS the roar now, faint but sullen. That is the red flash
far across the black Southern sky. For in our beds are
the terrora and cruelties of life revealed to us. There is
a demon to be faced, and fought alone.
Mrs. Brice was a brave woman. She walked that nicht
with God. ®
Stephen, too, awoke. The lightning revealed her as
she bent over him. On the wings of memory he flew back
to hw childhood in the great Boston house with the
rounded front, and he saw the nursery with its high win-
dows looking out across the Common. Often in the dark
had she come to him thus, her gentle hand passing over
him to feel if he were covered.
" What is it, mother ? " he said.
She said: " Stephen, I am afraid that the war has come."
He sat up, blindly. Even he did not guess the aeonv
in her heart. ^ "^
" You will have to go, Stephen."
It was long before his answer came.
"You know that I cannot, mother. We have nothinr
left but the little I earn. And if I were — '" He did not
nnish the sentence, for he felt her trembling. But she
266
= f\
r
3B6
THE CRISIS
said again, with that courage which seems woman's
alone : —
" Remember Wilton Brice. Stephen — I can get along.
I can sew/'
It was the hour he had dreaded, stolen suddenly upon
him out of the night. How many times had he rehearsed
this scene to himself! He, Stephen Brice, who had
preached and slaved and drilled for the Union, a renegade
to be shunned by friend and foe alike I He had talked
for his country, but he would not risk his life for it. He
heard them repeating the charge. He saw them passing
him silently on the street. Shamefully he remembered
the time, five months agone, when he had worn the very
uniform of his Revolutionary ancestor. And high above
the tier of his accuses he saw one face, and the look of it
stung to the very quick of his soul.
Before the storm he had fallen asleep in sheer weariness
of the struggle, that face shining through the black veil
of the darkness. If .le were to march away in the blue of
his country (alas, not of hers!) she would respect him
for risking life for conviction. If he stayed at home, she
would n'^^. understand. It was his plain duty to his
mother. And yet he knew that Virginia Carvel and the
women like her were ready to follow with bare feet the
march of the soldiers of the South.
The rain was come now, in a flood. Stephen's mother
could not see in the blackness the bitterness on his face.
Above the roar of the waters she listened for his voice.
" I will not go, mother," he said. " If at length every
man is needed, that will be different."
" It is for you to decide, my son," she answered. " There
are many ways in which you can serve your country here.
But remember that you may have to face hard things."
"I have had to do that before, mother," he replied
calmly. " I cannot leave you dependent upon charity."
She went back into her room to pray, for she knew that
he had laid his ambition at her feet.
It was not until a week later that the dreaded news
came. All through the Friday shells had rained on the
THE GUNS OF SUMTER 257
little fort while Charleston looked on. No surrender yet.
Through a wide land was that numbness which precedes
action. Force of habit sent men to their places of busi-
ness to sit idle. A prayerful Sunday intervened. Sumter
had fallen. South Carolina had shot to bits " flai? she
had once revered. ^ *
On the Monday came the call of President Lincoln for
volunteers. Missouri was asked for her quota. The out-
raged reply of her governor ^.ent back, — never would she
turnish troops to invade her sister states. Little did (tov-
^i7?u Vt°^^®° *o^esee that Missouri was to stand fifth of
all the Union in the number of men she was to give To
her was credited in the end even more men than stanch
Massachusetts.
The noise of preparation was in the city — in the land.
On the Monday morning, when Stephen went wearily to
the office, he was met by Richter at the top of the stairs,
who seized his shoulders and looked into his face. The
light of the zealot was on Richter's own.
" We shall drill every night now, my friend, until further
orders. It is the Leader's word. Until we go to the front,
Stephen, to put down rebellion." Stephen sank into a
chair, and bowed hU head. What would he think, — this
man who had fought and suffered and renounced his native
land for his convictions? Who in this nobler allegiance
was ready to die for them? How was he to confiss to
Kichter, of all men?
"Carl," he said at length, «I — I cannot go."
1 " ^°",~ r^. ^^"°°* S° ? You who have done so much
already! And why?"
Stephen did not answer. But Richter, suddenly divin-
ing, laid his hands impulsively on Stephen's shoulders.
"AcA, I see," he said. "Stephen, I have saved some
money. It shall be for your mother while you are away."
A* first Stephen was too surprised for speech. Then,
m spite of his feelings, he stared at the German with a
new appreciation of his character. Then he could merely
shake its head. "^
" Is it not for the Union ? " implored Richter. " I would
?*
258
THE CRIS18
give a fortune, if I had it. Ah, my friend, that would
please me so. And I do not need the money now. I
have — nobody."
Spring was in the air ; the first faint smell of verdure
wafted across the river on the wind. Stephen turned to
the open window, tears of intense agonv in his eyes. In
that instant he saw the regiment marcning, and the flag
flying at its head.
" It is my duty to stay here, Carl," he said brokenly.
Richter tool": an appealing step toward him and stopped.
He realized that with this young New Englander a oeci-
sion once made was unalterable. In all Lis knowledge
of Stephen he never remembered him to change. With
the demonstrative sympathy of his race, he yearned to
comfort him, and knew not how. Two hundred years
of Puritanism had reared barriers not to be broken down.
At the end of the office the stern figure of the Judge
appeared.
" Mr. Brice I " he said sharply.
Stephen followed him into the littered room behind the
ground glass door, scarce knowing what to expect, — and
scarce caring, as on that first day he had gone in there.
Mr. Whipple himself closed the door, and then the tran-
som. Stephen felt those keen eyes searching him fron.
their hiding-place.
" Mr. Brice," he said at last, " the President has called
for seventy-five thousand volunteers to crush this rebel-
lion. They will go, and be swallowed up, and more will
go to fill their places. Mr. Brice, pec pie will tell you that
t^ , war will be over in ninety days. But I tell you, sir,
iuat it will not be over in seven times ninety days." He
brought down his fist heavily upon the table. " This, sir,
will be a war to the death. One side or the other will
fight until their blood is all let, and until their homes are
all ruins." He darted at Stephen one look from under
those fierce eyebrows. " Do you intend to go, sir ? "
Stephen met the look squarely. " No, sir, he answered,
steadily, " not now."
*' Humph," said the Judge. Then he began what
THE GUNS OF SUMTER 0-9
desk. At lencrth he drew out a letter, put on his soec
tac es and re J t and finally nut it do^S agaTn. ^"
Stephen," said Mr. Whipple, " you are doing a cour-
in this world, we must not expect to escape peraecution
sir. Two weeks ago," he continued slowl?! "two weeks'
tfe^i'n^fonV;^''^^"^ ""'' ^^"^^^^ about^.atte.Tet
"He remembers me ! " cried Stephen,
.n Jnn •'.V^&?,T^^«d ^l^ttle. " Ur. Lincoln never forgets
««nl ^°\^T !?'^'*''« *« *^« Republican party, and
sends you his kindest regards." ^ ^
This was the first and only time that Mr. Whipple spoke
to him of his labors. Stephen has often laughed atThis
arhkSlr^h ^V'.^'^"""^^ "°.* ^«^« hearf of th m a
all had not the Judge's sense of duty compelled him to
convey the message. And it was with a lighter l?eart
than he had felt for many a day that he went out of the
fhfr^'^^^^.T.^*^''.^!® regiments were mustered into
Land oron' *\" ^^^""^ ^***"^- '^^« Leader was in coi^
Terence of nffl^°^ "» response to his appeals, despite the
S^^n CftnL^n mV^W'' '*°^' *^« President had
SSouri.^ Nathamel Lyon supreme command in
lined fct^^f *™.T^ '^? ^°^^' j"«""? «'«^d that
Zll^ i? iJr®,*^ r^ *^® regiments marched past. Here
were the Black Jaegers. l?o wonder the crowd laughed
Their step was not as steady, nor their files as straight
as Companv A. There was Richter, his nead high his
I'^^thaTnV. 'f*- ^i f-^^''^ "^ ^i"^« Ti^f^l "^-ehing
lnnU\ h^i %ii i^'';5^ lieutenant that Stephen himseS
should have filled. Here was another company, and at
athe'rh'i f' ^'^'Z?'^^' ^'^ ''^^"^ Cathe^wood H^*
father had disowned him the day before. His two
Wothers^ George and little Spencer,^were in a houL not
lar away, — a house from which a strange flag drooped.
11 . 1
260
THE CRISIS
Clouds were lowering over the city, and big drops fall-
inir as Stephen threaded his way homeward, the damp
and gloom of the weather in his very soul. He went pa«t
the house where the strange flag hung against its staff.
In that big city it flaunted all unchallenged. Ihe house
was thrown wde open that day, and in its windows
lounffed young men of honored families. And while they
ioked of Ge-man boorishness and Yankee cowardice they
held rifles across their knees to avenge any insult to the
strange banner that they had set up. In the hall, through
the open doorway, the mouth of a shotted field gun could
be seen. The guardians were the Minute itf^n, organ-
ized to maintain the honor and digniLy of the state of
Across the street from the house was gathered a knot of
curious people, and among these Stephen paused. Two
vounff men were standing on the steps, and one was Clar-
ence Colfax. His hands were in his pockets, and a care-
less, scornful smile was on his face when he glanced down
into the street. Stephen caught that smile. Anger swept
over him in a hot flame, as at the slave auction years
aeone. That was the unquenchable fire of the war. lUe
bload throbbed in his temples as his feet obeyed, — and
vet he stopped. , - . j. ±x^
What right had he to pull down that flag, to die on the
pavement before that house?
mi
•otM
CHAPTER XVII
CAMP JACKSON
^i^^tl M*^"1?J?,''V^^* ?"«*y M«°<Jay morning, the
Ti, if^'i ¥^' ^^^y- ^"^^^^^ Street to the north of
the Market House is full three hundred feet across, and
the mUitia of the Sovereign State of Missouri is gather-
!^Lw n ^^T^^y ''l^^'^ °^ ^^^ Governor they are to
march to Camp Jackson for a week of driU and instruction.
* TV* ^.x nearer the river, on the house of the Min-
ute Men, tl.; strange flag leaps wildly in the wind this day.
an?L r ^ ^1*^?* *^^ ^"P '^ «^i°^°g' <^°»8 are beating,
and bands are playmg, and bright aides dashing hither an^
thither on spirited chargers. One by one thf companies
are marching up, and taking place in line ; the city com-
panies in natty gray fatigue, the country companies often
in their Sunday clothes. But they walk with heads erect
and chests out, and the ladies wave their gay parasols and
cheer them. Here are the aristocratic St. Louis Grays,
Company A; there come the Washington Guards ^d
Washington Blues, and Laclede Guards and Missouri
fv t5^ *f** i>at'i« Guards. Yes, this is Secession Day,
this Monday. And the colors are the Stars and StripS
and the Arms of Missouri crossed.
What are they waiting for? Why don't they move?
Hark I A clatter and a cloud of dust by the market place,
an ecstasy of cheers running in waves the length of the
crowd. Make way for the dragoons ! Here they come at
last, four and four, the horses prancing and dancinjr and
pointinc: quivering ears at the tossing sea of nats and para-
sols and ribbons. Maude Catherwood squeezes Virghiia's
arm. Ihere, nding in front, erect and firm in the iSddle,
IS Captam Clarence Colfax. Virginia is red and white
261
i
~t!!V '1^1
km^
262
THE CEI8IS
and red again,— true colors of the Confederacy. How
proud she was of him now! How ashamed that she ever
doubted him I Oh, that was his true calling, a soldiers
life. In that moment she saw him at the head of armies
from the South, driving the Yankee hordes northward
and still northward until the roar of the lakes warns
them of annihilation. She saw his chivalry sparing them.
Yes, this is Secession Monday.
Down to a trot they slow, Clarence's black thorough-
bred arching his long neck, proud as his master of the
squadron which follows, four and four. The square young
man of bone and sinew in the first four, whose horse is
built like a Crusader's, is George Catherwood. And
Eugenie gives a cry and points to the rear where Maurice
is nding. v ir i •
Whose will be the Arsenal now ? Can the Yankee regi-
ments with their slouchy Dutchmen hope to capture it?
If there are any Yankees in Twelfth Street that day, they
are silent. Yes, there are some. And there are some —
even in the ranks of this Militia — who will fight for the
Union. These are sad indeed.
There is another wait, the companies standing at ease.
Some of the dragoons dismount, but not the handsome
5'oung captain, who rides straight to the bright group which
has caught his eye. Colonel Carvel wrings his gauntleted
hand.
" Clarence, we are proud of you, sir," he says.
And Virginia repeats his words, her eyes sparkling, her
fingers caressing the silken curve of Jefferson's neck.
" Clarence, you will drive Captain Lyon and his Hessians
into the river."
"Hush, Jinny," he answered, "we are merely going
into camp to learn to drill, that we may be ready to de-
fend the state when the time comes."
Virginia laughed. " I had forgotten," she said.
" You will ha^"5 your cousin court-martialed, my dear,"
said the Colonel.
Just then the call is sounded. But he must, needs press
Virginia's hand first, and allow admiring Maude and Eu-
CAMP JACKSON
263
gdnie to press his. Then he goes o£f at a slow cauter
to join his dragoons, waving his glove at them, and turn-
ing to ^ye the sharp order, « Attention ! " to his squadron.
Virginia is delinously happy. Once more she has
swept from her heart every vestige of doubt. Now is
Clarence the man she can admire. Chosen unanimously
captain of the Squadron but a few days since, Clarence
had taken command like a veteran. George Catherwood
and Maunce had told the story.
And now at last the city is to shake oflf the dust of the
North. "On to Camp Jackson I" was -the cry. The
bands are started, the general and staff begin to move,
and the column swin|p into the Olive Street road, followed
by a concourse of citizens awheel and afoot, the horse cars
crowded. Virgmia and Maude and the Colonel in the
Carvel carnage, and behind Ned, on the box, is their lun-
cheon ma hamper. Standing up, the girls can just see
the nodduig plumes of the dragoons far to the front.
Olive Street, now paved with hot granite and disfigured
by trolley wires, was a country road then. Green trees
y^i uiJu . M^f ^'^^y^ed rows of houses and stores, and
little "bob-tail yellow cars were drawn by plodding
mules to an mclosure in a timbered valley, surrounded by
a board fence, known as Lindell Grove. It was then a
resort, a picnic ground, what is now covered by close resi-
dences which have long shown the wear of time.
Into Lindell Grove flocked the crowd, the rich and the
poor, the proprietor and the salesmen, to watch th*^ soldiers
pitch their tente under the spreading trees. The gallant
draeoons were off to the west, across a little stream which
tnckled through the grounds. By the side of it Virginia
and Maude, enchanted, beheld Captain Colfax shouting
his orders while his troopers dragged the canvas from the
wagons, and staggered under it to the line. Alas I that
the girls were there I The Captain lost his temper, his
troopers, perspiring over Gordian knots in the ropes,
uttered strange soldier oaths, while the mad wind which
blew that day played a hundred pranks.
To the discomfiture of the young ladies. Colonel Carvel
i "■ I
Ijfi
!|F1
264
THE CRISIS
pulled his goatee and guffawed. Virginia was for moving
away.
"How mean, Pa," she said indignantly. "How can
you expect them to do it right the first ^y, and in this
wind?^
" Oh, Jinny, look at Maurice I " exclaimed Maude, gig-
gling. " He is pulled over on his head."
The Colonel roared. And the gentlemen and ladies
who were standing by laughed, too. Virginia did not
laugh. It was all too serious for her.
" You will see that they can fight," she said. " They
can beat the Yankees and Dutch."
This speech made the Colonel glance around him.
Then he smiled, — in response to other smiles.
"My dear," he said- "you must remember that this is
a peaceable camp of instruction of the state militia.
There fly the Stars a' Stripes from the general's tent.
Do you see that the> ? s above the state flag? Jinny,
you forget yourself."
Jinny stamped her foot.
" Oh, I hate dissimulation," she cried. " Why can't we
say outright that we are going to run that detestable
Captain Lyon and his Yankees and Hessians out of the
Arsenal ? "
"Why not. Colonel Carvel?" cried Maude. She had
forgotten that one of her brothers was with the Yankees
and Hessians.
"Why aren't women made generals and governors?"
said the Colonel.
" If we were," answered Virginia, " son*. .g might be
accomplished."
"Isn't Clarence enough of a fire-eater to suit you?"
asked her father. /
But the tents were pitched, and at that moment the
young Captain was seen to hand over his horse to an
orderly, and to come toward them. He was followed by
Gteorge Catherwood.
" Come, Jinny," cried her cousin, " let us go over to the
main camp."
CAMP JACKSON
265
"And walk on Davis Avenue," said Virginia, flushing
with pnde. "Isn't there a Davis Avenue?"
"Yes, and a Lee Avenue, and a Beauregarde Avenue,"
said George, taking his sister's arm.
"We shall walk in them all," said Virginia.
What a scene of animation it was! "Die rustling trees
and ttie young grass of early May, and the two hundred
and forty tents in lines of military precision. Up and
down the grassy streets flowed the promenade, proud
fathers and mothers, and sweethearts and sisters and wives
in gala dress. Wear your bright gowns now, you devoted
women. The day is coming when you will make them
over and over again, or tear them to lint, to stanch the
blood of these young men who wear their new gray so
Every afternoon Vin^inia drove with her father and
her aunt to Camp Jackson. All the fashion and beautv
of tje oity were there. The bands played, the black
coachmen flecked the backs of their shining horses, and
walking in the avenues or seated under the trees were
natty young gentlemen in white trousers and brass-but-
toned jackets. AU was not soldier fare at the regimental
messes. Cakes and jellies and even ices and more sub-
stantial damties were laid beneath those tents. Dress
parade was one long sigh of delight. Better not to have
been born than to have been a young man in St. Louis,
early in Camp Jackson week, and not be a militiaman.
One young man whom we know, however, had little
of pomp and vanity about him, — none other than the
young manager (some whispered "silent partner") of
Carvel & Company. If Mr. Eliphalet had had political
ambition, or political leanings, during the half-year which
had just passed, he had not shown them. Mr. Cluyme
(no mean business man himself) had pronounced Eliphalet
a conservative young gentleman who attended to his own
affairs and let the mad country take care of itself. This
IS precisely the wise course Mr. Hopper chose. Seeing
a regiment of Missouri Volunteera slouching down Fifth
Street in citizens' clothes, he had been remarked to smUe
I i
m
rij
■ Sj.si
266
THE CRISIS
oynioally. But he kept his opinions so close that he was
supposed not to have any.
On Thursday of Camp Jackson week, an event occurred
in Mr. Carvel s store which excited a buzz of comment.
Mr. Hopper announced to Mr. Barbo, the book-keeper,
that he should not be there after four o'clock. To be
sure, times were more than dull. The Colonel that morn-
ing had read over some two dozen letters from Texas and
the Southwest, tellinfr of the impossibility of meeting cer-
tain obligations in the present state of the country. The
Colonel had gone home to dinner with his brow furrowed.
On the other hand, Mr. Hopper's equanimity was spoken
of at the widow's table.
At four o'clock, Mr. Hopper took an Olive Street car,
tucking himself into the far comer where he would not be
disturbed by any ladies who might enter. In the course
of an hour or so, he alighted at the western gate of the
camp on the Olive Street road. Refreshing himself with
a little tobacco, he let himself be carried leisurely by the
crowd between the rows of tents. A philosophy of his
own (which many men before and since have adopted)
permitted him to stare with a superior good nature at the
open love-making around him. He imagined his own
figure, — which was already gi. »ving a little stout, — in
a light gray jacket and duck trousers, and laughed.
Eliphalet was not burdened with illusions of that kind.
These heroes might have their hero-worship. Life held
something dearer for him.
As he was sauntering toward a deserced seat at the
foot of a tree, it so chanced that he was overtaken by Mr.
Cluyme and his daughter Belle. Only that morning, this
gentleman, in glancing through the real estate column of
is newspaper, had fallen upon a deed of sale which made
him wink. He reminded his wife that Mr. Hopper had
not been to supper of late. So now Mr. Cluyme held out
his hand with more than common cordiality. When Mr.
Hopper took it, the fingers did not close any too tightly
over his own. But it may be well to remark that Mr.
Hopper himself did not do any squeezing. He took off
CAMP JACKSON
267
his hat grudgingly to Miss Belle. He had never liked the
custom.
"I hoj^ you will take pot luck with us soon again, Mr.
Hopper, said the elder gentleman. "We only have plain
and simple things, but they are wholesome, sir. Dainties
are poor things to work on. I told that to his Royal Hieh-
ness when he was here last faU. He was speaking to me
on the merits of roast beef— "
" It's a fine day," said Mr. Hopper.
"So it is," Mr. Cluyme assented. Letting his eaze
wander over the camp, he added casuaUy : «I gee that
they have got a few mortars and howitzers since yester-
day I suppose that is the stuff we heard so much about,
which came on the Swon marked * marble.' They say
Jeff Davis sent the stuff to 'em from the Government
arsenal the Secesh captured at Baton Rouge. They're
pretty near ready to move on our arsenal now."
Mr. Hopper listened with composure. He was not
greatly interested in this matter which had stirred the
city to the quick. Neither had Mr. Cluyme spoken as
one who was deeply moved. Just then, as if to spai-e the
pains of a reply, a "Jenny Lind" passed them. Miss
iseue recognized the carriage immediately as belondnff
to an elderly lady who was well known in St. iSuis
^very day she drove out, dressed in black bombazine, and
heavily veiled. But she was blind. As the mother-in-law
of the stalwart Union leader of the city. Miss Belle's com-
ment about her appearance in Camp Jackson was not out
of place.
"Well!" she exclaimed, "I'd like to know what she's
doing here!
Mr. Hopper's answer revealed a keenness which, in the
course of a few days, engendered in Mr. Cluyme as lusty
a respect as he was capable of.
"I don't know," said EUphalet; "but I cal'late she's
got stouter.
"^^**i° y°^ ^^^ ^y that?" Miss Belle demanded,
la " S* ^^^^ principles must be healthy," said he, and
m
268
THE CRISIS
Miss Cluyme was prevented from following up this
enigma. The appearance of two people on Davis Avenue
drove the veiled lady from her mind. Eliphalet, too, had
seen them. One was the tall young Captain of Dragoons,
in cavalry hoots, and the other a young lady with dark
brown hair, in a lawn dress.
" Just look at them ! " cried Miss Belle. " They think
' they are alone in the garden of Eden. Virginia didn't
use to care for him. But since he's a captain, and has got
a uniform, she's come round pretty quick. I'm thankful
I never had any silly notions about uniforms."
She glanced at Eliphalet, to find that his eyes were fixed
on the approaching couple.
"Clarence is handsome, but worthless," she continued
in her sprightly way. "I believe Jinny will be fool
enough to marry him. Do you think she's so very pretty,
Mr. Hopper?"
Mr. Hopper lied.
" Neither do I," Miss Belle assented. And upon that,
greatly to the astonishment of Eliphalet, she left him and
ran towards them. " Virginia ! " she cried; " Jinny, I have
something so interesting to tell you. ! "
Virrinia turned impatiently. The look she bestowed
upon Miss Cluyme was not one of welcome, but Belle was
not sensitive. Putting h«»r arm through Virginia's, she
sauntered off with the 'air toward the parade grounds,
Clarence maintaining now a distance of three feet, and not
caring to hide his annoyance.
Eliphalet's eyes smouldered, following the three until
they were lost in the crowd. That expression of Vir-
ginia's had reminded him of a time, years gone, when she
had come into the store on her return from Kentucky, and
had ordered him to tell her father of her arrival. He had
smarted then. And Eliphalet was not the sort to get over
smarts.
"A beautiful young lady," remarked Mr. Cluyme.
"And a deserving one, Mr. Hopper. Now, she is my
notion of auality. She has wealth, and manners, and
looks. And her father is a good man. Too bad he holds
CAMP JACKSON
269
Buch views on secession. I have always thought, sir, that
vou were singularly fortunate in your connection with
There was a point of light now in each of Mr. Hopper's
green eyes. But Mr. Cluyme continued : —
" What a pitv, I say, that he should run the risk of crip
pling himself by his opinions. Times are getting hard?'
" Yes," said Mr. Hopper.
" And southwestern notes are not worth the paper thev
are written on — " *- r j
X ?.V*^';^l"y°»®^as misjudged his man. If he had come
to Ehphalet for information of Colonel Carvel's affairs, or
of any one else's affairs, he was not likely to get it. It is
not meet to repeat here the long business convereation which
followed. Suffice it to say that Mr. Cluyme, who was in
dry goods himself, was as ignorant when he left Eliphalet
as when he met him. But he had a greater respect than
ever for the shrewdness of the business manager of Carvel
& Company.
in.*******
That same Thursday, when the first families of the city
were whispering iubilantly in each other's ears of the safe
amv^of the artillery and stands of arms at Camp Jackson,
something of significance was happening within the green
inclosure of the walls of the United States arsenal, &r to
the southward.
The days had become alike in sadness to Stephen.
Richter gone, and the Judge often away in mysterious
conference, he was left for hours at a spell the sole tenant
of the office. Fortunately there was work of Richter's and
of Mr. Whipple's left undone that kept him busy. This
Thursday morning, however, he found the Judge getting
mto that best black coat which he wore on occasions. His
manner had recently lost much of its gruffness.
"Stephen," said he, " they are serving out cartridges and
uniforms to the regiments at the arsenal. Would you like
to go down with me ? "
" Doe.9 that mean Camp Jackson ? " asked Stephen, when
they had reached the street
I
iM.
iffl
270
THE CRISIS
*' Captain Lyon U not the man to sit stiU and let the
Governor take the first trick, sir," said the Judse.
As they got on the Fifth Street oar, Stephen^ attention
was at once attracted to a gentleman who sat in a comer,
with his children about him. He was lean, and he had a
face of great keenness and animation. He had no sooner
spied Judge Whipple than he beckoned to him with a kind
of military abruptness.
" That is Major William T. Sherman," said the Jud^e
to Stephen. " He used to be in the army, and fought m
the Mexican War. He came here two months ago to be
the President of this Fifth Street car line."
They crossed over to him, the Judge introducing
Stephen to Major Sherman, who looked at him very hard,
and then decided to bestow on him a vigorous nod.
" Well, Whipple," he said, " this nation is goinsr to the
devil, eh?"
Stephen could not resist a smile. For it was a bold
man who expressed radical opinions (provided they were
not Southern opinions) in a St. Louis street car earlv
in'6L ^
The Judge shook his head. **We may pull out," he
said.
"Pull out I" exclaimed Mr. Sherman. "Who's man
enough in Washington to shake his fist in a rebel's face ?
Our leniency — our timidity — has paralyzed us, sir."
By this time those in the car began to manifest consid-
erable interest in the conversation. Major Sherman paid
them no attention, and the Judge, once launched in an
argument, forgot his surroundiDgs.
" I have faith in Mr. Lincoln. He is calling out volun-
teers."
"Seventy-five thou:.jmd for three months!" said the
Major, vehemently, "a bucketful on a conflagration! I
tell you, Whipple, we'll need all the water we've got in
the North."
The Judge expressed his belief in this, and also that
Mr. Lincoln would draw all the water before he got
through.
CAMP JACKSON
271
Now%«7m!°^\'*'? Mr. Sherman, "I'm disgusted.
fn7u- ? *u*T *^ *^P ®"- The loneer we let 'em rear
and kick, the harder to break 'em You dnn'f n.f«l
going back to the army for nJeTm^^^' ^\Z
ml ^^/''•^FV" ?^"«™ntee n>e three years ^-hr?*
more h£e it'^ Turning to Stephen, he added "Don'J
you si^n any three months' contract, young man."
Nnr ^,1 •. ^ had offered to quarrel with the Major
Nor did It seem likely that any one would. ^
" 1 m afraid I can't go, sir."
;; Why not?;' demanded Mr. Sherman.
awidow'^nd'th; t^ '^' '^"^^"' """t^y' "^« mother's
fnT^n« nf mt ' ^ ^"""^ . »\°»«°ey- He was a Her ^nant
«?? 2r ?^*r «,c«"Panies before the call came."
m Major looked at Stephen, and his expression .hanged.
"Find It pretty hard ? " he asked. ^
«n5?JS ^ expression must have satisfied him, but he
nodded agam, more vigorously than before.
you 1st '^°'' ""'*'' ^'- ^"'''" ^" ^^- "I* ^o'^'t hurt
tall*'^ Wn^'^v ^^- ^"i ^" *^°P«^ *« ^»" «"t ot the
a!;^;i,. * V ^"^ discomfiture, the Major gave him
another of those queer looks. His whole maSIr, and
SrElljahXT"' ""^"'^' «*«P^- «*-^«l^ «'^a^
sp:4"r:\Can^^elTraVTallT^^^ °^^ ^^^ ^^^
"Yes, sir," said the Judge. " He is "
gr^ffi^en^:^''' ^^^ ^"* *^ ^"^ -P"^«-»^' -^
" WeU, sir," he said, "I have yet to read a more sen-
sible speech, except some of Abiham Lincoln'^ Brinl
made gave it to me to read. Whipple, that speech
reminded me of Lincoln. It was his style Wherfdid
y°^ /?* '\ M'- Brice ? " he demanded. ^
1 heard Mr. Lincoln's debate with Judge Dourias at
t^til
If
979
THE CRISIS
*'I admire your {ranknen, sir/* he laicl **I meant
to say that its logic rather than ita iubsta*' i reminded
me of Lincoln.*'
** I tried to learn what I could from him, Major Sher-
man.
At length the car stepped, and they passed into the
Arsenal grounds. Drawn up in lines on the green grass
were four regiments, all at last in the blue of their coun-
try's service. Old soldiers with baskets of cartridges were
stepping from file to file, giving handfuls to the recruits.
Many of these thrust them in theirpockets, for there were
not enough belts to go around. Toe men were standing
at ease, and as Stephen saw them laughing and joking
lightheartedly his depression returned. It was driven
away again by Major Sherman's vivacious comments. For
suddenly Captain Lyon, the man of the hour, came into
view.
**■ Look at him I " cried the Major, ** he's a man after mj
own heart. Just look at him running about with his hair
flying in the wind, and the papers bulging from his
pockets. Not dignified, eh, Whipple? But this isn't the
time to be dignified. If there were some like Lyon in
Washington, our troops would be halfway to New Orleans
by this time. Don't talk to me of Washington! Just
lookathiml"
The gallatit Captain was a si^ht, indeed, and vividly
described by Major Sherman's picturesque words as he
raced from regiment to re^ment, and from company to
company, with his sandy hair awry, pointing, gesticulating,
commanding. In him Stephen recognized we force that
had swept aside stubborn army veterans of wavering faith,
that snapped the tape with which they had tied him.
Would he be duped by the Governor's ruse of establish-
ing a State Camp at this time ? Stephen, as he gazed at
him, was sure that he would not. This man could see
to the bottom, through every specious argument. Little
matters of law and precedence did not trouble him. Nor
did he believe elderly men in authority when they told
him gravely that the state troops were there for peace*
CAMP JACKSON 273
"To Camp Jackson?" asked Stephen.
Rioter shrugged his shoulders.
'■••f»l
i
■« i
CHAPTER XVin
THB STONE THAT IS BBJBOTED
That Friday morning Stephen awoke betimes with a sense
that something was to happen. For a few moments he lay
still in the half comprehension which comes after sleep,
when suddenly he remembered yesterday's incidents at the
Arsenal, and leaped out of bed.
"I think that Lyon is going to attack Camp Jackson
to<lay," he said to his mother after breakfast, when Hester
h(ul left the room.
Mrs. Brice dropped her knitting in her lap.
"Why, Stephen?"
" I went down to the Arsenal with the Judge yesterday
and saw them finishing the equipment of the new regiments.
Something was in the wind. Any one could see that from
the way Lyon w£i flying about. I think he must have
proof that the Camp Jackson people have received supplies
from the South."
Mrs. Brice looked fixedlv at her son, and then smiled in
spite of the apprehension she felt.
" Is that why you were working over that map of the
city last night?" she asked.
** I was trying to see how Lyon would dispose his troops.
I meant to tell you about a gentleman we met in the street
car, a Major Sherman who used to be in the army. Mr.
Brinamade knows him, and Judge Whipple, and many
other prominent men here. He came to St. Louis some
months ago to take the position of president of the Fifth
Street Line. He is the keenest, the most original man I
have ever met. As long as I live I shall never forget his
description of Lyon."
"Is the Major going back into the army?" said Mrs.
274
iili
THE STONE THAT IS REJECTED 275
Brioe. Stephen did not remark the little falter in her
voice. He laughed over the recoUectiou of the conversa-
tion in the street car.
« Not unless matters in Washington change to suit him."
he said. « He thinks that things have &en very badly
managed, and does not scruple to say so anywhere. I
could not have believed it possible that two men could
have talked m public as he and Judge Whipple did vester-
day and not be shot down. I thought that it was as much
as a man 8 life is worth to mention aUegiance to the Union
flff . p L?"?^^:*, ^"^ ^h.'^'^y ^^' Sherman pitched into
the Rebels in that car full of people was enough to make
your hair stand on end." ** >^ "lase
"He must be a bold man," murmured Mre. Brice.
do\l^?" the — the Rebellion can be put
"Not with seventy-five thousand men, nor with ten times
that number.
her'hIndShSf ^'' '^^^ '"^^^^^ "^^^ ^^ ^^^ -^^
said' *™ ^"^^ ^® ^^^ see great misery, Stephen," she
He was silent. From that peaceful little room war
and ite horrors seemed very far away. The morning sun
poured m through the south windows and was scattered
rV^^ 1^ wm'. %*^^ sideboard From above, on the wall.
Colonel Wilton Brice gazed soberly down. Stephen's eyes
hghted on the portrait, and his thoughts flew back to the
boyhood days when he used to ply Eis father with ques-
tions about It. Then the picture had suggested only the
glory and honor which illumines the page of history
Something worthy to look back upon, to keep one's head
high. The hatred and the suffering and the teare, the
heartrending, tearing apart for all time of loving ones who
have grown together, - these were not upon that canvas.
Wili war ever be painted with a wart ?
The sound of feet was heard on the pavement. Stephen
r^'tu ''^"^ at his mother. Her face was still upon her
wsma^tr^ji^.^iAiM.Mjam- j
■^»^?*»«^?-Jt?T3r2,
r
276
THE CRISIS
"I must see what
** I am goin^ to the Arsenal," he said,
is happening.'
To her, as has been said, was given \»isdom beyond most
women. She did not try to prevent him as he Ussed her
good-by. But when the door had shut behind him, a little
cry escaped her, and she ran to the window to strain her
eyes after him until he had turned the corner below.
His steps led him irresistibly past the house of the strange
flag, ominously quiet at that early hour. At sight of it
anger made him not again. The car for South St. Louis
stood at the end of the line, fast filling with curious people
who had read in their papers that morning of the equip-
ment of the new troops. There was little talk among
them, and that little guarded.
It was a May morning to rouse a sluggard ; the night
air tingled into life at the touch of the sunshine, the trees
in the flitting glory of their first green. Stephen found
the shaded street in front of the Arsenal already filled with
an expectant crowd. Sharp commands broke the silence,
and he saw the blue regiments forming on the lawn inside
the wall. Truly, events were in the air, — great events in
which he had no part.
As he stood leaning against a tree-box by the curb,
dragged down once more by that dreaded feeling of de-
tachment, he heard familiar voices close beside him.
Leaning forward, he saw Eliphalet Hopper and Mr.
Cluyrae. It was Mr. Cluyme who was speaking.
*' Well, Mr. Hopper," he said, " in spite of what you say,
I expect you are just as eager as I am to see what is going
on. You've taken an early start this morning for sight-
seeing."
Eliphalet's equanimity was far from shaken.
" I don't cal'late to take a great deal of stock in the mili-
tary," he answered. " But business is business. And a
man must keep an eye on what is moving."
Mr. Clryme ran his hand through his chop whiskers,
and lowered his voice.
" You're right, Hopper," he assented. " And if this city
is going to be Union, we ought to know it right away."
THE STONE THAT IS REJECTED 27T
Stephen, liatening with growing indignation to this talk.
7Z ""7*1^ °^ * "**" ^^^ «*«**^ «^ *^« «^her side of the
tree, and who now came forward before Mr. Hopper. He
Knt^'mTteTlX^^^^ ^°^- ^' Cl"^-
havi^^i"w '" "* u *^® Stranger, quietly, « I think we
have met before, when your actions were not greatly to
your credit I do not foi^et a face, even when I see f i^
the dark. Now I hear vou utter words which are a dis-
fZlf / '^'^'^S °^T ^^""'^^ States. I have some
respect for a rebel. I have none for you, sir."
As soon as Stephen recov*>-ed from the shock of his sur-
prise, he saw that Elipha..t had changed countenance.
Ihe manner of an important man of affairs, which he had
so assiduously cultivated, fell away from him. He took
a step backward, and his eyes made an ugly shift. Stephen
rejoiced to see the stranger turn his bacl on the manager
of Carvel & Company before that dignitaiy had time to
S"red ^ unconcernedly there as if nothing had
Then Stephen stared at him.
He was not a man you would look at twice, ordinarily.
S!tT.~ !JI?* ^^} ^^ S°^ '''^'- He wore clothL
that were anything but new, a slouch hat, and coaree-
^ined, square-toed boots. His trousers were creased at
the knees. His head feU forward a little from his square
^^htr^ r°u A*°^^ \^'^ ^ o°« «ide, as if meditatively.
He had a light brown beard that was reddish in the sun,
and he was rather short than otherwise.
no« 1 1^ ''^ *^** St^V^en saw. And yet the very plain-
ness of the man's appearance only added to his curi^ity.
Who was this stoaneer? His words, his action, too, had
teen remarkable. TLe art of administering a rebuke like
that was not given to many men. It was perfectly quiet,
perfectly final. And then, when it was overThe had turned
nis back and dismissed it.
Next Stephen began to wonder what he could know
about Hopper. Stephen had suspected Eliphalet of sub-
ordinating principles to business gain, and hence the con-
till
I Sf5
■ - -1 « ■ » i
■Jf-^W^IlW-^- -kl-i
278
THE CBISIS
versation with Mr. Cluyme had given him no shock in the
way of a revehition. But if Hopper were a rogue, ought
not Colonel Carrel to hear it? Ought not he, Stephen
Brice, to ask this man with the cigar what he knew, and
tell Judge Whipple? The sudden rattle of drums gave
him a start, and cruelly reminded him of the gulf of preju-
dice and hatred fast widening between the friends.
All this time the stranger stood impassively chewing
his cigar, his hand against the tree-box. A regiment in
column came out of the Arsenal gate, the Union leader,
in his colonel's uniform, on horseback at its head. He
pulled up in the street opposite to Stephen, and sat in his
saddle, chatting with other officers around him.
Then the stranger stepped across the limestone gutter
and walked up to the Colonel's horse. He was still
smoking. This move, too, was surprising enough. It
argued even more assurance. Stephen listened intently?.
" Colonel Blair, my name is Grant," he said briefly.
The Colonel faced quickly about, and held out his
gloved hand cordially.
" Captain Ulysses Grant," said he, "of the old army?"
Mr. Grant nodded.
'* I wanted to wish you luck," he said.
"Thank you, Grant," answered the Colonel. "But
you? Where are you living now?"
"I moved to Illinois after I left here," replied Mr.
Grant, as quietly as before, " and have been in Galena, in
the leather business there. I went down to Springfield
with the company they organized in Galena, to be of any
help I could. They made me a clerk in the adjutant gen-
eral's office of the state. I ruled blanks, and made out
forms for a while." He paused, as if to let the humble char-
acter of this position sink into the Colonel's oomprehension.
"Then they found out that I'd been quai^ermaster and
commissary, and knew something about military orders.
Now I'm a state mustering officer. I came down to Belle-
ville .to muster in a regiment, which wasn't ready. And
so I ran over here to see what you fellows were doing."
If this humble account had been delivered volubly, &l
I n 'jc>.':-:>«ijar»
THE STONE THAT IS REJECTED
279
in another tone, it is probable that the citizen-colonel
would not have listened, since the events of that day were
to crown his work of a winter. But Mr. Grant possessed
a manner of holding attention. It was very evident, how-
ever, that Colonel Blair had other things to think of.
Nevertheless he said kindly: —
" Aren't you going in. Grant ? "
»• I can't afford to go in as a captain of volunteers," was
the calm reply. « I served nine years in the regular army,
and I think I can command a regiment."
The Colonel, whose attention was called away at that
moment, did not reply. Mr. Giant moved off up the
street. Some of the youn^r oflBcers who were there,
laughed as they followed his retreating figure.
"Comman' a regiment!" cried one, a lieutenant whom
Stephen recognized as having been a book-keeper at
Edwards, James, & Doddington's, and whose stiff blue
uniform coat creased awkwardly. « I guess I'm about as
fit to command a regiment as Grant is."
"That man's fortv years old, if he's a day," put in
another. " I remember when he came here to St. Louis
in '54, played out. He'd resigned from the army on
the Pacific Coast. He put up a log cabin down on the
Gravois Road, and there he lived in the hardest luck of
any man I ever saw until last year. You remember him,
Joe."
" Yep," said Joe. " I spotted him by the El Sol cigar.
He used to brincf a load of wood to the city once in
a while, and then he'd go over to the Planters' House, or
somewhere else, and smoke one of these long fellows, and
sit against the wall as silent as a wooden Indian. After
that he came up to tb^ city without his family and went
into real estate one winter. Bui he didn't make it go.
Curious, it is just a year ago this month that he went over
to Illinois. He's an honest fellow, and hard working
enouffh, but he don't know ^-ow. He's iust a dead failure.^
"Command a regiment'" mughed the first, again, as if
this in particular had struck his sense of humor. " I guess
he WOP t get a regiment la a hurry. There's lots of those
j-.v^
1-:
280
II
THE CRISIS
military oaipet-baggere hanging around for good jobs
now.
"He might fool you fellows yet," said the one called
Joe, though his tone was not one of conviction. "I under-
stand he had a firat-rate record in the Mexican War."
Just then an aide rode up, and the Colonel gave a sharp
command which put an end to this desultory talk. As
the First Regiment took up the march, the words "Camp
Jackson" ran from mouth to mouth on the sidewalks.
Catching fire, Stephen ran with the crowd, and leaping on
a passing street car, was borne cityward with the drums
of the coming hosts beating in his ears.
In the city, shutters were going up on the stores. The
streets were filled with restless citizens seeking news, and
drays were halted here and there on the comers, the white
eyes and frenzied calls of the negro drivers betraying their
excitement. While Stephen related to his mother the
events of the morning, Hester burned the dinner. It lay,
still untouched, on the table when the throbbing of drums
sent them to the front steps. Sigel's regiment had swung
into the street, drawing in its wake a seething crowd.
Three persons came out of the big house next door.
One was Anne Brinsmade ; and there was her father, his
white hairs uncovered. The third was Jack. His sister
was clinging to him appeaUngly, and he struggling in her
grasp. Out of his coat pocket hung the curved butt of a
ig pepper-box revolver.
"Let me ^o, Anne I" he cried. "Do you think I can
stay here while my people are shot down by a lot of damned
Dutchmen ? "
"John," said Mr. Brinsmade, sternly, "I cannot let you
join a mob. I cannot let you shoot at men who carry the
Union flag." ^
" You cannot prevent me, sir," shouted the young man,
in a frenzy. " When foreigners take our flag for their
own, it is time for us to shoot them down."
Wrenching himself free, he -w down the steps and up
the street ahead of the regiment. Then the soldiers and
the noisy crowd were upon them ; and while these were
'C''^?^?!*
THE STONE THAT IS EEJECTED m
went back iito ths ?,^!r ^- *"• ^nnsmade tamed and
Stephen .„d"u: motherXw^'^lu^H" ".f"^"-
^^e i. a ^beV .he f.lte„"d'^-'^it"^1u^Cin; fe'.
two yea« befoTon the ouEtf ^.^^^^^^^o^ ^ad built
waU it the sidrand the brick 8^^^^^ ""'^ *t«
Stephen approached iL f >;« *]f« i!?® *°*^ ®**^^® y»rd. As
this worlds XI a^ii^t^"^^**'^"^^ *« bim how little
big cXmc^ Ws^i ?n lf\f ^"^""^^t 0«« of the
thft dayf^dtar^eTJd W v''? T'^^S regimente
darken L dooSl' toth^rt^^i'n^c^^t^^^^^^ ^
s:&-sr^ «^ -other h^rflrso"ut;,;rtS^^^
As he stcwd there med.tat.ng, and payi^ no attention
fj&^ -/Ss^-I >
282
THE CRISIS
to those who hurried past, a few ^miliar notes were struck
on a piano. They came through the wide-shuttered win-
dow above his head. Then a girPs voice rose above the
notes, in tones that were exultant : —
" Away down South in de fields of cottoot
Cinnamon seed and sandy bottom,
Look away, look away,
Look away, look away.
Den I wish I was in Dixie's Land,
Oh, oh I oh, oh I
In Dixie's Land I'll take my stand,
And live and die in Dixie's Land.
Away, away, away.
Away down Soatn in Dixie."
The sone ceased amid peals of girlish laughter. Stephen
was rootea to the spot.
" Jinny ! Jinny Carvel, how dare you I " came through
the shutters. '* We shall have a whole regiment of Hes-
sians in here."
Old Uncle Ben, the Catherwoods' coachman, came out
of the stable yard. The whites of his eyes were rolling,
half in amusement, half in terror. Seeing Stephen stand-
ing there, he exclaimed : —
** Mistah Brice, if de Dutch take Camp Jackson, is we
niggers gwinter be free ? "
Stephen did not answer, for the piano had started again.
« If ever I consent to be married, —
And who could refuse a good mate? —
The man whom I give my hand to.
Must believe in the Rights of the State."
More laughter. Then the blinds were flung aside, and a
young lady in a dress of white trimmed with crimson stood
in the window, smiling. Suddenly she perceived Stephen
in the road. Her smile faded. For an instant she stared
at him, and then turned to the girls crowding behind her.
What she said, he did not wait to hear. He was stri(Ung
down the hill.
M^k
CHAPTER XIX
THE TENTH OP MAY
"W^'ori!/^"^ ^^^'' ?"* ^*"^^«« surrender!
i„ iS n .u »/<>«°fir lady who sat behind the blinds
m Mrs Catherwoo/'s parlor. It seemed to her when she
fi^hw l»«^n for the first guns of the coming battle
"V^ r^"''' » '° }^' >*^ ^°"ld drown their i-oar
ie^^dt^^ir''^-^^ ^^^ ^^ P'^ R"««e» ^ho never
fi?Kf ^^*^. V®'' T^*^' ^* ^""Id be folly for them to
f fS ;h«?il^"^:^ *°^ ^"^""« outnumber thL ten to on^
r J ^*^®°^ »ny powder and bullets."
CfttwinS°*5 ^*'l^?'' ^ ^f''? ^° * hoUow," said Maude
Catherwood, dejectedly And yet hopefully, too, for at
the thought of bloodshed she was^ near to faiiiing.
wan?t W "^^ ^^*^ 7'^?^?' P?f innately. "I believe you
want them to surrender. I should rather see Clarence cfcad
than giving his sword to a Yankee."
an «nSLl 1'**^®'' two were silent again, and sat on through
fh« S?ir ^"^'^^'^ of uncertainty and hope and dread in
the darkened room. Now and anon Mr Catherwood's
ti^J^K P 1™ ^a"""^.^ ^^ P^^^d ^^^ ^^- From time to
sT/ tl l^°°1? ** X¥T' "^'^^ ^^^^^ »^er thought
She and Puss RusseU Had come that day to dine lith
K'- ^^T- Catherwood's Ben, reeking of the stable^
had brought the rumor of the marching on the camp into
wf nf /K"^ "' and close upon the heels of this the^^rum-
We of the drums and the passing of Sigel's regiment. It
was Virginia who had the presence of^mind to slam the
blinds m the feces of the troops, and the crowd had cheered
her. It was Virginia who flew to the piano to play Dixie
ere tiiey could get by, to the awe and^^admiration of the
girls and the dehght of Mr. Catherwood, who applauded
388
t
} „i
284
THE CRISIS
her spirit despite the trouble which weighed upon him.
Once more the crowd had cheered, — and hesitated. But
the Dutch regiment slouched on, impassive, and the people
followed.
Virginia remained at the piano, her mood exalted patri-
otism, uplifted in spirit by that grand song. At first she
had played it with all her might. Then she sang it. She
laughed in very scorn of the booby soldiers she had seen.
A million of these, with all the firearms in the world, could
not prevail against the flower of the South. Then she had
begun whimsically to sing a verse of a song she had heard
the week before, and suddenly her exaltation was fled, and
her fingers left the keys. Gaining the window, trembling,
half-expectant, she flung open a olind. The troops, the
people, were gone, and there alone in the road stood —
Stephen Brice. The others close behind her saw him,
too, and Puss cried out in her surprise. The impression,
when the room was dark once more, was of sternness and
sadness, — and of strength. Effaced was the picture of
the plodding recruits wiUi their coarse and ill-fitting uni-
forms of blue.
Virginia shut the blinds. Not a word escaped her, nor
could they tell why they did not dare to question her
then. An hour passed, perhaps two, before the shrill voice
of a boy was heard in the street below : —
'' Camp Jackson has surrendered ! "
They heard the patter of his bare feet on the pavement,
and the cry repeated : —
*' Camp Jackson has surrendered I **
And so the war began for Virginia. Bitter before, now
was she on fire. Close her lips as tightly as she might,
the tears forced themselves to her eyes. The ignominy
of it!
How hard it is for us of this age to understand that
feeling.
" I do not believe it I " she cried. " I cannot believe
itl"
The g^ls gathered around her, pale and frightened and
anxious. Suddenly courage returned to her, the courage
THE TENTH OF MAY 285
ViJ^'nia ***'''*^'^ "*^"'^ *° ^*^- ^"* ** ^id not shock
" And not a shot fired? " he said.
Both r« t «^^^fi^«lJ" Vireinia repeated, mechanically.
"No, malmT ^"^^ ^^^^ ^ ^*-
"Oh, how could they I " exclaimed Vimnia.
Her words seemed to arouse Mr. Cather^ood from a kind
of stupor. He turned, and took her hand.
rn^ T'J^k°'*'.'^i *^*^i ""^^^ *^«" smart for this yet, Mv
God I he cried, "what have I done that my son shou^S
hL'p^n^r ToT t^h* ^T" broth^^fiXng"?^
z:ntzr^eo'::^^h w^rthatxru&i^
Uf^* "* ^ there -to the camp. Let us stand on the
httie mound at the northeast of it, on the oJrve Street
Road, whence Captain Lyon's artiUei^ commanrit What
Ltf"^J'''°* yesterday! Davis Avenue Tno on^er a
fashionable promenade, flashing with bright dresses IhLe
^ular^evwflt"^^ ^« United Stetes
rJk^ ^""^ "^'*? regiments have surrounded the camo
Each commander has obeyed the mast«>r mind of 4 cS;
I
I ;i
im
(.
i I
286
THE CRISIS
who has oalouUted the time of marohing with preoiaion.
HerCf at the western gate. Colonel Blair^ regiment is in
open order. See the prisoners taking their pliuses between
the ranks, some smiling, as if to say all is not over yet ;
some with heads hung down, in sulky shame. Still others,
who are true to the Union, openly relieved. But who is
this o£Boer breaking his sword to bits against the fence,
rather than surrender it to a Yankee ? Listen to the crowd
as they cheer him. Listen to the epithets and vile names
which they hurl at the stolid blue line of the victors.
" Mudsills I " " Negro Worshippen I "
Yes, the crowd is there, seetning with conflicting pas-
sions. Men with brows bent and fists clenched, yelling
excitedly. Others pushing, and eager to see, — there in
curiosity only. And, alas I women and children by the
score, as if what they looked upon were not war, but a
parade, a spectacle. As the gray uniforms file out of the
gate, the crowd has become a mob, now flowing back into
the fields on each side of the road, now pressmg forward
vindictively until stopped by the sergeants and corporals.
Listen to them calling to sons, and brothers, and husbands
in gray I See, there is a woman who spits in a soldier's
face I
Throughout it all, the officers sit their horses, unmoved.
A man on the bank above draws a pistol and aims at a
captain. A German private steps from the ranks, forget-
f m of discipline, and points at the man, who is cursing the
captain's name. The captain, imperturbable, orders his man
back to his place. And the man does not shoot — yet.
Now are the prisoners of that regiment all in place
between the two files of it. A band (one of those which
played lightsome music on the birthday of the camp) is
marched around to the head of the column. The regi-
ment with its freight moves on to make place for a bat-
talion of regulars, amid imprecations and cries of " Hurrah
for Jeff Davis!" and "Damn the Dutch I" "Kill the
Hessians ! "
Stephen Brice stood among the people in Lindell's
Giuve, luuking up at the troops on the road, which was
W
iK^
THE TENTH OF MAY 287
ih^ ^/"*°v- ''^^ n ^."^ ^""^ followed. Dismoimted at
i^«r «**^^ "°**^^ following, the young CapteTwIlked
erect. He did not seem to hear th« nh««l ir * ^*""<*
tt luS, • h" "rP"' ."" "■"^y'"? deter™ LS' of
C to wt i, H- . *"" P*''P'» '" "" field, ancf the
^l^r^ upon th-eUt^i t^ -Z't &ty^SJ
sSr-Y'^? ^te::rx-htL\!!f ^.■^iji
m crmiflon and white in a window, — in her face FJi
tfT«1Si° ^' """^ i^ ? ?« ^^'^ «f her coudn. It waJ af
come. """'' "^"'^ **^^ ^*^" «^ «"ff«""g that w™ to
WW^^f.r^r^^'*^ ?®^P bitterness his reason wavered
What if the South should win 9 Qnrni« Tt *^*^«™"-
such feeling in the N<^„ tSe peopirlw^d^Tlit
rT h^f^r'^-' '^'^ *"« Seing'^f ''t^o eSota q^f
H. T™ .J° §"'™ J""- "* »»w the Southern Zw
Suffi't^^^Vi^^ X'7%"hrht'h VP
S!™'""^' Clarence ^olCS^" owl'^ta itg^^'l^S:
t Cad'^.run^ s^tl!|^l "^ ^-/"^ -r- M
Presently these Sioughta were distracted by the sight
M
if
^:i^^^w
'ifT^
^^1^'
Wfy
288
THE CRISIS
of a back strangely familiar. The back belonged to a
gentleman who was energetically climbing the embank-
ment in front of him, on the top of which Major Saxton,
a regular army officer, sat his horse. The gentleman was
pullmg a smsU boy after him by one hand, and held a
newspaper tightly rolled in the other. Stephen smiled
to himself when it came over him that this gentleman was
none other than that Mr. William T. Sherman he had met
m the street car the day before. Somehow Stephen was
fascinated by the decision and energy of Mr. Sherman's
slightest raovuments. He gave Major Saxton a salute,
quick and grnial. Then, almost with one motion he un-
rolled the ne spaper, pointed to a paragraph, and handed
it to the officer. Major Saxton was still reading when
a drunken ruffian clambered up the bank behind them
and attempted to pass through the lin?«. The column
began to move forward. Mr. Sherman slid down the
bank with his boy into the grove beside Stephen.
Suddenly there was a struggle. A corporal pitched
the drunkard backwards over the bank, and he rolled at
Mr. Sherman's feet. With a curse, he picked himself up,
fumbling in his pocket. There was a flash', and as the
smoke rolled from before his eyes, Stephen saw a man
of a German regiment stagger and fall.
It was the signal for a rattle of shots. Stones and
bricks filled the air, and were heard striking steel and flesh
in the ranks. The regiment quivered,— then halted at
the k'ld command of the officers, and the ranks faced out
with level guns. Stephen reached fcr Mr. Sherman's
boy, but a gentleman had already thrown him and was
covering his body. He contrived to throw down a woman
standing beside him before the minie balls swished over
their heads, and the h^ves and branches began to fall.
Between the popping of the shots sounded the shrieks of
wounded women and children, the groans and curses of
men, and the stampeding of hundreds.
"Lie down, Brice! For God's sake lie down I" Mr.
Sherman cried.
He was about to obey when a yonng man, small and
■M-?^-:'M^d:^^ '^^sim:"^^ _
THE TENTH OF MAT 289
Jgile,ran past him from behind, heedless of the nanir
S^-Dpmg at the foot of the bankhe drop^d on oneCe'
m g^ revolver m the hoUow of his l^t -na It ™
Jack ^rinsmade. At the same time tv n of -?« JiZ!f
above lowered their barrels to cover hm tk^T*
hid the scene. When ITroUed aXay, "fosmth ' vl'
oXZd; ""' '""^^'"'i *« *^^ feItv:i.'roath?anS
fn^^^ * young man who was hatless, and upon whose
forehead was burned a black powder mark. ^ ^
Curse you I he cried, reaching out wildlv : "curee vn„
you
, you let me go and
Maddened, he made a rush at Stephen's throat But
Stephen seized his hands and bent tfem down and h«?i
them firmly while he kicked and struS ' ^^^
Vi\^T^ ^^'^ ^ he panted ; "curse you, yo
V Z®"' ~ y®" "nkee upstart ! "
But Stephen held on. Brinsmade becamp mnr« o«^
2ll'af'\y.^^^ '^ ^^« office,.,tebnhe"t;^^^^^^
started down the bank, was reviled, and hesitated At
that moment Major Sherman came between them.
sinLn'^-r ^r''"^\'*^^' ^ » tone of command
Stephen diS as he was bid. Whereupon Brinsmade
"Now see here. Jack," he said, picking it up, «I don't
innt ol*"??^! ^^^^ happened. Brinsmade took one lonjr
Souch t^^*"'"' *"^"f «^hi« heel, and walked off ,^pTd°f
through the grove. And it may be added that for some
years after he was not seen in St. Louis.
Than^'v °Sr®"* ^^^ ?^^^ *^° «tood staring after him
Then Mn Shennan took his boy by the hand. ^
m Uf' kT' i5 "^^J' "^'^^ ««^" * fe^ things done in
mv life, but nothing better than this. Perhaps the d^v
a.y come when vou and I mav meet in the ~-^- -^^
aon 1 1 m to think much of
may
army. They
us now," he added, smiling
I I
■I
m
^
290
THE CRISIS
" but we ma^ be of use to 'em later. If ever I can serve
you, Mr. Bnce, I beg you to call on me."
Stephen stammered his acknowledgments. And Mr.
Sherman, nodding his head vigorously, went away south-
ward through the grove, toward Market Street.
The column was moving on. The dead were being laid
in carriages, and the wounded tended by such physicians
as chanced to be on the spot. Stephen, dazed at what had
happened, took up the march to town. He strode faster
than the regiments with their load of prisoners, and pres-
ently he found himself abreast the little file of dragoons
who were guarded by some of Blair's men. It was then
that he discovered that the prisoners' band in front was
playing " Dixie."
They are climbing the second hill, and are coming now
to the fringe of new residences which the rich citizens have
built. Some of them are close! and dark. In the windows
and on the steps of others women are crying or waving
handkerchiefs and calling out to the prisoners, some of
whom are gay, and others sullen. A distracted father
tries to bre^ through the ranks and rescue his son. Ah,
here is the Catberwood house. That is open. Mrs.
Catheiwood, with her hand on her husband's arm, with
red eyes, is scanning those faces for the sight of George.
Will he ever come back to her ? Will the Yankees murder
him for treason, or send him North to languish the rest of
his life ? No, she will not go inside. She must see him.
She will not faint, though Mrs. James has, across the street,
and is even now being carried into the house. Few of us
can see into the hearts of those women that day, and speak
of the suffering there.
Near the head of Mr. Blair's regiment is Tom. His face
is cast down as he passes the house from which he is ban-
ished. Nor do father, or mother, or sister in their agony
make any sound or sign. George is coming. The welcome
and the mourning and the tears are all for him.
The band is playing '•'■ Dixie " once more. George is com-
ing, and some one else. The girls are standing in a knot
hamnd the old people, dry-eyed, their handkerchief in
?^
if^l^.>•^i«
tx
"^£:
^^
THE TENTH OF MAY 291
their handfl. Some of the prisoneis take off their hats and
smile at the voung ladv with the chiselled features Sd
b.own hair, who wears tie red and white of the South a«
f she were born to them. Her eves are searching Ah Tt
last she sees him, walking erect at the head S hi^draloris
He gives her one look o1 entreaty, and tiiat sm^T^^^X
should have won her heart long aeo As i f Tv L
f hil f ^5^""^^'^^ ^r^« »*^ ^hem until they are gone down
Ip.^n'^ ^^if T*^^'/^^ "^'S^^ ^ave seen a solftary figure
Wng the line of march and striding acro^LX:
*i,^tf "?^^* *^® ^^'^^^^ of the heavens were ooened anH
ttie blood was washed from the grass in LindSJirl^
The rain descended in floods on ^Td^sti^ted k^^^^^^
the great river rose and flung brush fX MTnLote
foreste high up on the stones of ^the levee SowaTnTht
sight and sound of them and to which th^y were powerfeS
^.^^- i^^J^' ^°^ °^^^«"' »»d ^^es were there, Xvond
the ram, holding out arms to them. ^
laste TntVw^A'l'f the blood? Av, whUe the day
w!* 1 ?"*!^ha* of the long nights when husband and wife
have lain side by side? What of the children who ^k
piteously where their father is going, and who are ^f L^H
of that last breakfast at home ? So in the mir1«* nf^l
cheer which is saddest in life comes the thougTt that iust
one year ago, he who is the staff of the house wL wont to
sit down just so menily to his morning meaj! teforrZ n^
to work in the office. Why had they not thanked gS of
their knees for peace while they had it ?
•I
THE CRISIS
See the brave little wife waitin? on the porch of her
home for him to go by. The sun shines, and the grass is
green on the little plot, and the geraniums red. Last
spring she was sewing here with a song on her lips, watch-
ing for him to turn the corner as he came back to dinner.
But now ! Hark I Was that the beat of the drums ? Or
was it thunder ? Her good neighbors, the doctor and his
wife, come in at the littie gate to cheer her. She does not
hear them. Why does God mock her with sunlight and
with friends?
Tramp, tramp, tramp I They are here. Now the band
is blaring. That is his company. And that is his dear
face, the second from the end. Will she ever see it again ?
Look, he is smiling bravely, as if to say a thousand tender
things. " WiU, ai-e the flannels in your knapsack ? You
have not for^fotten that me licine for your cough? " What
courage subhme is '! at which lets her wave at him ? Well
for you, little woman, that you cannot see the faces of the
good doctor and his wife behind you. Oh, those guns of
Sumter, how they roar in your head ! Ay, and will roar
again, through forty years of widowhood !
Mrs. Brice was in the little parlor that Friday night,
listening to the cry of the rain outside. Some thoughts
such as these distracted her. Why should she be happy,
and other mothers miserable ? The day of reckoning for
her happiness must surely come, when she must kiss
Stephen a brave farewell and give him to his country. For
the sins of the fathers are visited on the children, unto the
third and fourth generation of them that hate Him who is
the Ruler of all things.
The bell rang, and Stephen went to the door. He was
startled to see Mr. Brinsmade. That gentleman was sud-
denly aged, and his clothes were wet and spattered with
mud. He sank into a chair, but refused the spirits and
water which Mrs. Brice offered him in her alarm.
"Stephen," he said, "I have been searching the city
for John. Did you see him at Camp Jackson — was he
hurt?"
" I think not, jir,** Stephen answered, with clear eyes=
^^i£^i
».sf -i
A^
THE TENTH OF MAY jjj
"oLT ^ "^^H •«''«"~d rfter th, firing ^ ^
wife and damthter I L^ ' ^.fM '""7 ^ ««" my
Mw him." ^ '"™ '*«"' ""s to find no one who
tor"^ TwsTife!' J^'Tn^ ''Jtephen', '»""««<•. But
t. inqni^ .boat th;^in^„?Sr'™' '^ """"" »«"»'-<'
hi. I?C;C ^2 StlJird^i """ »»' ""-•" "'■>
li
I
CHAPTER XX
m THE AB8BNAL
These was a dismal tea at Colonel Carvel's house in
Locust Street that evening. Virginia did not touch a
mouthful, and the Colonel merely made a pretence of
eating. About six o'clock Mrs. Addison Colfax had
driven in from Bellegarde, nor could it rain fast enough
or hard enough to waeh the foam from her panting horses.
She did not wait for Jackson to come out with an umbrella,
but rushed through ^hc wet from the carriage to the door
in her haste to urge the Colonel to go to the Arsenal and
demand Clarence^ release. It was in vain that Mr. Car-
vel assured her it would do no good ; in vain that he told
her of a more important matter that claimed him. Could
there be a more important matter than his own nephew
kept in durance, and in danger of being murdered by
Dutch butchers in the frenzy of their victory? Mrs. Col-
fax shut herself up in her room, and through the door
Yi^nia heard her sobs as she went down to tea.
The Colonel made no secret of his uneasiness. With
his hat on his head, and his hands in his pockets, he paced
up and down the room. He let his cigar go out, — a more
serious sign still. Finally he stood with his face to the
black window, against wnich the big drops were beating
in a fury.
Virginia sat expressionless at the head of the table, still
in that gown of white and crimson, which she had worn in
honor of the defenders of the state. Expressionless, save
for a glance of solicitation at her father's back. If
resolve were feminine, Virginia might have sat for that
portrait. There was a light in her dark blue eyes. Under-
neath there were traces of the day's ihtigue. When she
spoke, there was little life in her voice.
IN THE ARSENAL
295
Aren t you going to the Planters' House, Pa ?»»
The Colonel turned, and tried to smile.
" I reckon not to-night. Jinny. Why ? "
^^I reckon they don't know at the Pbnters' House," he
«S®°""u" J^FJ" Virginia, and stopped.
J?®° "^t**^ ^« »»^«d' stroking fier hair.
. Then why not go to the Barracks? Order the car-
nal, and I will go with you."
His smile faded. He stood looking down at her fixedly
as ™ somefames his habit. Grave tenderness was^lS;
Cii^ncT?" ^^ ^^ ^^°'^^^' " '^'"''^* ^"^ ^'*'' ""^^ ^ """^
The suddenness of the question took uer breath. But
she answered steadily:— »«oi«ia. uut
"Yes."
** Do you love him ? "
qI^I *^® answered. But her lashes feU.
nifrS * I ' ^'J '^ T""^*^ *** ^«' *^* her father's gaze
pierced to her secret soul. *
" Come here, my dear," he said.
He held out his arms, and she fluttered into them. The
twrs were coine at last. It was not the first time she had
«^o,»^ ^' troubles against that great heart, which had
ZZ^J^Atl '^""Kpi^g^- /rom childhood she had been
comforted there, llad she broken her doll, had Mammy
Easter been cross, had lessons gone wrong at school, vvi
she lU, or wea^ with that heaviness of^spirit which is
woman s inevitable lot, - this was her sanctuary. But now I
This burden God Himself had sent, and none save h^r
Heavenly Father might cure it. Through his great love
uel ^'^ ^"^^^ ^ ""^^ ^"""^^ to divine it- only
Many times he strove to speak, and could not. But
presentiy, as if ashamed of her tears, she drew back from
lum and took her old seat on the arm of his chair.
fi.v;!:.
5; .
296
THE CRISIS
fjP
m
By the light of his intuition, the Colonel chose his words
well. What he had to speak of was anotiber sorrow, yet a
healing one.
" You must not think of marriage now, my dear, when
the bread we eat may fail us. Jinny, we are not as rich as
we used to be. Our trade was in the South and West, and
now the South and West cannot pay. I had a conference
with Mr. Hopper yesterday, and he tells me that we must
be prepared.
She laid her hand upon his.
"And did you think I would care, dear?" she asked
gently. " I can bear with poverty and rags, to win this war."
His own eyes were dim, but pride shone in them. Jack-
son came in on tiptoe, and hesitated. At the Colonel's
motion he took away the china and the silver, and removed
the white cloth, and turned low the lights in the chan-
delier. He went out softly, and closed the door.
"Pa," said Virginia, presently, "do you trust Mr.
Hopper ? "
Tne Colonel gave a start.
" Why,jye8, Jinny. He improved the business greatly
before this trouble came. And even now we are not in
such straits as some other houses."
" Captain Lige doesn't like him."
" Lige has prejudices."
"So have I," said Virginia. "EUphalet Hopper will
serve you so long as he serves himself. No longer."
" I think you do him an injustice, my dear,^ answered
the Colonel. But uneasiness was in his voice. " Hopper is
hard working, scrupulous to a cent. He owns two slaves
now who aro runninfir the river. He keeps out of politics,
and he has none of the Yankee faults."
" I wish he had," said Virginia.
The Colonel made no answer to this. Getting up, he
went over to the bell-cord at the door and pulled it Jack-
son came in hurriedly.
"Is my bag packed?"
"Yes, Marsa."
" Where are you going? " cried Virginia, in alarm.
. ■Jr'.ir t
IN THE AKSENAL 297
worf ?hi*fcoS:'^' ''•"• '••""'• Go"*"". I got
"In the rain?"
He .miled, and ..tooped to kin her.
New Orleai timoSw or SuX " ** '^'^ '""
bea^gXt ""eW? hL"!^ '"'°^* S'' '"''*•• •"« »>»«
flow. Vkng S of LtoTy'X'^,.""'^ """'' '^
a peaceaMe%£te institution, ttevW^hot'l"" '• ' """?•
rsc^»:; thelS*^^^? "?»"'°^°"*^'
^.td^hti;;!jr^^^^™-^'--'V;sir^^^^
thought i°™^theS?]th™'* me Jiuuy!" she cried. «I
havS't^^dZe t CtotT"'^ *° ""^' "" »"• ^'»'
" We shall see him to-dav. Aunt Lillian »» «,«» *i, • ^ i
I
3"t| -;
' 1 " -i
-i
T.'.-'M[R3-*^j?± -- '.^v>r^&siK5tifc?::m.^'
-■^jS***
298
THE CRISIS
i
** I could not sleep a wink. Jinn j, all night long. I look
wretchedly. I am afraid I aii going to have another of
my attacks. How it is raining I What does the news-
paper say?"
" I'll get it for you," said Virginia, used to her aunt's
vagaries.
" No, no, tell me. I am much too nervous to read it"
" It says that they will be paroled to-day, and that they
passed a comfortable night."
" It must be a Yankee lie," said the lady. " Oh, what
a night I I saw them torturing him in a thousand wajrs —
the Darbarians I I know he had to sleep on a dirty floor
with low-down trash."
" But we shall have him here to-night. Aunt Lillian I "
cried Virginia. ♦* Mammv, tell Uncle Ben that Mr. Clarence
will be here for tea. We must have a feast for him. Pa
said that they could not hold them."
" Where is Comyn ? " inquired Mrs. Colfax. " Has he
gone down to see Clarence ? "
"He went to Jefferson City last night," replied Vir-
ginia. " The Governor sent for him."
Mrs. Colfax exclaimed in horror at this news.
"Do you mean that he has deserted us?" she cried.
" That he has left us here defenceless, — at the mercy of
the Dutch, that they may wreak their vengeance upon us
women ? How can you sit still, Virginia ? If I were your
age and able to drag myself to the street, I should be at
the Arsenal now. I should be on my knees before that
detestable Captain Lyon, even if he is a Yankee."
Virginia kept her temper.
"I do not go on my knees to any man," she said.
" Rosetta, tell Ned I wish the carriage at once."
Her aunt seized her convulsively hy the arm.
" Where are you going. Jinny ? '^ she demanded. " Your
Pa would never forgive me if anything happened to
you."
A smile, half pity, crossed the girl's anxious face.
" I am afraid that I must risk adding to your misfor-
tune. Aunt Lillian," she said, and left the room.
IN THE ABSENAL 299
VirgmU drore to Mr. Brinsmade's. Hia was one of the
respect. Like many Southemeis, when it became a ques-
n«° "^ P/u '^h^''. B"°««»~ie'« unfaltering We f o? t?^
fe /hnir ^''*'^®^ ?* C"«?°d«° Compromise meet ngs
^/^^K^r? ^' P?'"' ^^^ °°^ *»^a* it was to be wai^
and he had taken his stand uncompromisingly with the
Union, the neighbors whom he had bifriendecf ^r so man v
r^v'^'^H "'* ^""? themselves to regani him^^
J^nL .1,^ "T' %^ ^^^'' feelings f and almost as
soon as the war began he set about that work which has
been done by self^enyincr Christians of all ages,- the reliS
?ih«5'"°^- ^ "' "^^^ T^^ ^^'"^^rt the widow and the
fatheriess, and mamra night in the hospital he sat through
h«J«H LT- /P^'Pl?''.*^ ^' *~"^^«' rather than hot-
*»eaded advice frou their own leaders.
anH f^rf""^"?!**®'* ""P ''^Tl^Sre was drawn up at his door.
He rami jf^^^^T*" ^'"^^^ ^^""^""S «*^ *he threshold
vfr^w r^, ^ «*«P« bareheaded in the wet to hand
Virginia from her carriage.
Courteous and kind as ever, he asked for her father and
mfpn^^ far to hide their own trials under a cheerful
?.r?;* V- -® ***^®"' '^^'^ ^'^ ^««» generous, it mat-
t^S «f T'"! ™ '?°* "^ thoughtless nor so selfish
that she coulcT not perceive that a trouble had come to
this good man. Absorbed as she was in her own affairs,
tn^'J A^T t^- *^T ^ ^ presence. The fire left he;
tongue, and to him she could not have spoken harshly
was led into the drawing-room. From the comer of it
Anne arose and came forward to throw her arms around
•^1
■li
i : (■%
: j-
s.ltl ,- iA"-
■•If -"JV
d
soo
THE CRISIS
rl
u r^*""?;,** ^"^ *^ «°°^ ®' J0« to oonw. Yon don't
nAte me?
•* Hate you, Anne dear ! "
"Because we are Union," said honest Anne, wishing
to have no shadow of doubt.
Virginia was touched. "Anne," she cried, "if you
were »«rTOan, I believe I should love you."
"How good of you to come. I should not have dared
^ to your house, because I know that you feel so deenlv.
You — you heard ? " *^ '
"Heard what?" asked Virginia, alarmed.
"That Jack has run away — has gone South, we think.
Perhaps, she cned, "perhaps he may be dead." And
tears came into the girl's eyes.
It was then that Virginia forgot Clarence. She drew
Anne to the sofa and kissed her.
"No, he U not dead," she said gently, but with a conH-
dence m her voice of rare quality. "He is not dead,
Anne dear, or you would have heard."
Had she glanced up, she would have seen Mr. Brins-
made s eye upon her. He looked kindly at all people, but
this expression he reserved for those whom he honored.
A life of service to othere had made him guess that, in
the absence of her father, thU girl had come to him for
help of some ki*^'"
"Virrinia U ^^ht, Anne," he said. "John has gone
to fight for his principles, as every gentleman who is free
should ; we must remember that this is his home, and that
we must not quarrel with him, because we think differ-
ently. He paused, and came over to Virginia. " There
IS something I can do for you, my dear?" said he.
She rose. "Oh, no, Mr. Brinsmade," she cried. And
vet her honesty was as great as Anne's. She would not
nave it thought that she came for other reasons. " My
aunt IS in such a state of worry over CUrence that I came
to ask you if you thought the news true, that the prisoners
are to be paroled. She thinks it is a — " Vinrinia
fl^hed, and bit a rebellious tongue. "She does not
IN THE ARSENAL 3Q1
Mrtainly." ^"P*"'' '''""'• »"'* "« •'>»11 fed out
diould nStWe come" ° «>»- about JoEn, I
knowledge of his whereabonla B,7t i„ ^"."°' '«"«» «o a
pntlema^n of thU cJty I S 1 ouXK?,*" "yT^
happened at Camp Jaikson " * **" ^^ """t
R,,f°^' M !""'.«™*»'»I. Major. Sit down, sir "
iUot Z 1Z Wfth'^t^""";- "{' ^ S'-the mid-
not^^beUeve in naneing n..t^„Cen ta'tel'
wh;iitt;ii'''to';^rj^ ^^ rj?""* -r
saving yoor ton's life." ^ "^' ' '*''"*' - *"'
» I . il
902
THE CRISIS
** Stephen Brice ! *' exclaimed Mr. Brinsmade, in aston-
ishment.
Virginia felt Anne's hand tighten. But her own was
limp. A hot wave swept over her. Was she never to
hear the end of this man ?
"Yes, sir, Stephen Brice," answered Mr. Sherman.
** And I never in my life saw a finer thing done, in the
Mexican War or out of it."
Mr. Brinsmade grew a little excited.
" Are you sure tnat you know him? "
" As sure as I know you," said the Major, with excessive
conviction.
*' But,*' said Mr. Brinsmade, **■ I was in there last night.
I knew the young man had been at the camp. I assed
him if he had seen Jack. He told me that he had. by the
embankment. But he never mentioned a word abot.c sav-
ing his life."
"He didn't!" cried the Major. "By glory, but he's
even better than I thought him. Did you see a black
powder mark on his face?"
" Whv, yes, sir, I saw a bad bum of some kind on his
forehead."
" Well, sir, if one of the Dutchmen who shot at Jack
had known enough to put a ball in his musket, he would
have killed Mr. Brice, who was only ten feet away, stand-
ing before your son."
Anne gave a little crv — Virginia was silent. Her lips
were parted. Though she realized it not, she was thirsting
to hear the whole of the story.
The Major told it, soldier fashion, but well. How John
rushed up to the line ; how he (Mr. Sherman) had seen
Brice tlux>w the woman down and had cried to him to lie
down himself; how the fire was darting down the regi-
ment, and how men and women were falling all about
them ; and how Stephen had flung Jack and covered him
with his body.
It was all vividlv before Virginia's eyes. Had she any
right to treat such a man wiUi contempt? She remem-
bered how he had looked at her when he stood on the
*^--'irr.^-.-i^"'
IN THE AESENAL 303
Anne, the gist otl^hh^aZnlAr'^r^'' T° ^
at preaching than at fiehtSia Vh« I ^"°® "^^ ^'^r
ha/ known in her heart bSL th.fT °°^-:»«d she
est^jj^tice she could have do^rht* *'" ™ *^« ^^^
"But Jack ? What did Jack do ? "
Jack would havrshot St^hen h J J "'*'' *° "^^ ^^^^^
That was the ugly part of th« «f^ ^f ,!'°* interfered,
shot the man whfL^ed his Hfe T^V), ^f"" T??^^ ^^^^
neither xMr. Brinsmade nor hi« wi Jv ^® 1*?^ **^ ^^ d«ath
Mr. Brinsmade anT Anne hS^n ^"^ V^»«- B"t while
bed these were the ttdln^^t ^aL'ffi V' •'•' ^\^-
kept It in her heart. Thfre^on S * rS ? ^^'^^^^a* who
she had guessed a part of it ^^^ ^'' ™ *^<^»"«e
her^'^Sf &^;-irr ^ ^-y*' to the Arsenal with
own griefriong Sb ? came to SL^^V it^'T'^"^ «' ^-
her. 'ke told her ma^vTtfl^ .n i*l talk cEeerHy with
not one of them dfdX Wr ^^9^^^^^ ot his tmvel, but
she aiought W Mef in cf;r«n^'°^*l^","oment when
last secufe, she f S hLp H ^ *°^ ^^' ^ove for him at
sons between yraid^Slfe?™^ ""^^^"^ ^ompari-
spite of heiBelf sZ had f^ J" ?. .u^°"o°8^ Bostonian. In
splendid. W^ this d^lova?rshffl' ^"^^'K' ^^'^ ™
Clarence had been caS VtL^^^^^
rescue of an enemy. StlSas tL? i?'~I^''fi' *o the
out to a remorseless end --;^^3^bi^fi"\«^^ ^^^ it
to keeping silence when Mr r • ^""^^ ^*^^ *^®" equal
StepheS Brice M nreven^'lH i-°^ ^*°^^ to him?
maae beUeved. ^^^"^ ^"^ ""other, so Mr. Brins-
dntid^nh^Tbleto^^^o?^^^^^^^ ^1^
rd?Ld«h;^fe[^^^^^^^^^^ steh^"]
sities,' for his mother bv ^tSl il^lS^^' »°d often neces-
sities, for his mother by wrSn^ for^'"' *°^ *^^° =
"Often," said Mr^T^^ ^'^f^rfCe
•-^H
t 'i-i
been
304
THE CRISIS
1
-It
unable to sleep, and have seen the light in Stephen's room
until the small hours of the morning."
"Oh, Mr. Brinsmade," cried Virginia. "Can't you tell
me something bad about him? Just once."
The 1^ gentleman started, and looked searchingly
at the girl by his side, flushed and confused. Perhaps he
thought — but how can we tell what he thought? How
can we guess that our teachers laugh at our pranks after
they have caned us for them ? We do not remember that
our parents have once been young themselves, and that
some word or look of our own brings a part of their past
vividly before them. Mr. Brinsmade was silent, buthe
looked out of the carriage window, away from Virginia.
And presently, as they splashed through the mud near the
Arsenal, they met a knot of gentlemen in state uniforms on
their way to the city. Nicodemus stopped at his master's
si^fnal. Here was George Catherwood, and his father was
with him.
" They have released us on parole," said George. " Yes,
we had a fearful night of it. They could not have kept
us — they had no quarters."
How changed he was from the gay trooper of yesterdayl
His bright uniform was creased and soiled and muddy, his
face unshaven, and dark rings of weariness under his eyes.
"Do you know if Clarence Colfax has gone home?"
Mr. Brinsmade inquired.
"Clarence is an idiot," cried George, ill-naturedly.
" Mr. Brinsmade, of all the prisoners here, he refused to
take the parole, or the oath of allegiance. He swears
he will remain a prisoner until he is exchanged"
"The young man is Quixotic," declared the elder Caih-
erwood, who was not himself in the best of humors.
" Sir," said Mr. Brinsmade, with as much severity as
he was ever known to use, "sir, I honor that young man
for this more than I can tell you. Nicodemus, you may
drive on." And he slammed the door.
Perhaps George had caught sight of a face in the depths
of the carriage, for he turned purple, and stood staring on
the pavement after his choleric parent had gone on.
^PIr"i^1I^K
''-■-m^'T''
IN THE ARSENAL 3^5
of the Dragoons ""^^-^^Ptem Clarence Colfax, late
and'j.alT^^h'^.Hr^^^^ *<> the A^enal,
city deserved. He ^f V,W -^ ^' ^^"^ "^'^ce to the
bare military room of th« Z^'^'^^^'V****^ into the
P^ently caVeTaptfL^ThTrntF^^^^^^
with antagonism ^dien ah« ««i J?^ Virgima tingled
the city trfmble, Jho had s«tT • '' f *? ""^^ ^^ ^ade
brand of her cliwe H« f i"***" ?^^^ *»" the flamincj
Herculean labo^rbut ^nlv^l, ' v^l *^ "^^'^^ «f ^^
His long red hali wL unbruZ^^- '^^.*^"' »°*^ P^^^on.
bl^k mSd, and hb^St unbuttoned '^^^ "^^^^^^ ^th
and his eye as clear as thon^f! ^ i,' J^"^ '*^® ^^ "»ddy,
hours' sleep. He b^ed to y^r" ^ ^"'''' ^'**°* twelve
to be suref. Her oClc^ ol'CUrrlJ?" ^T-li^^^^'
seem to trouble him. recf rrnition did not
He lefiues to take the MthS .ir • ™ " eKhanged.
States." "'"' °' »Uegianoe to the United
astonishment. ^ ®* "^^th looked at her in
Viiginia bit Ber to^T ^^'""' '""' y*"-"
Captain's oonXot C ™. P"". "y »<in.ir««on of the
Orderly, „y ,^p,„te to Captain 6olfex, «.d aak hi» if
\ t\
h i
1
'^^WkMti^>-
306
I
i:
THE OBISIS
t
I
'■:
-■(
he will be kind enough to come in here. Mr. Brinsmade,"
said the Captain, « I should like a few words with you, sir."
And 80, thanks to the Captain's delicacy, when Ckrence
arnved he found Virginia alone. She was much agitated.
She ran toward him as he entered the door, camnff hia
name. ^
" Max, you are going to stay here ? "
" Yes, until I am exchanged."
Aglow with admiration, she threw herself into his arms.
Now, indeed, was she proud of him. Of all the thousand
defenders of the state, he alone was true to his principles
— to the South. Within sight of home, he alone had
chosen privation.
She looked up into his face, which showed marks of
excitement and fatigue. But above all, excitement. She
knew that he could live on excitement. The thought came
to her — was it that which sustained him now? She put
it away as treason. Surely the touch of this experience
would transform the bov into the man. This was the weak
Stint in the armor which she wore so bravely for her cousin,
e had grown up to idleness. He had known neither care
nor responsibility. His one longing from a child had been
that love of fighting and adventure which is bom in the
race. Until this gloomy day in the Arsenal, Virginia had
never characterized it as a love of excitement as any-
thing which contained a selfish element. She looked up
into his face, I say, and saw that which it is given to a
woman only to see. His eyes burned with a light that was
far away. Even with his arms around her he seemed to
have forgotten her presence, and that she had come all the
way to the Arsenal to see him. Her hands dropped limply
from his shoulders. She drew away, as he did not seem to
notice.
So it is with men. Above and beyond the sacrifice of a
woman's life, the jov of possessing her soul and affection,
18 something more desirable still — fame and glory — per-
sonal fame and glory. The woman may share them, of
course, and be content with the radiance. When the
Governor is making his inauguration speech, does he
IN THE AESENAL ^
into a glorious future we do nn^f ""?!? ""^ *'« ^'^ ^^^^^
or value the swS^ wwl\°^lt^V^^»™« about us,
labored so hard to "tt^^ ''^ ""^'^ humdrum days, we
ga7eTirhf<?d':^'3?e' Ije^rT^^^M-- she
Tears started in her eyesLid fh. Z ^**?"«^ /" ^y««d.
bim^^&'LX^^Tot:^ '^'"*"«" Vi^"" loved
who love th^ countT,^''°?r^T ?' ^ P"""*""-
should not think of hw X'„ tl,« iT" ''"J "J^ht that he
at etoke; and the aiZr *« .S^ tt? "1 ""* ^°"* ""
thoee nine hmidredSd SSetJ^nT who w"" T*™*
cepted the parole. """"jr^ne wlio had weaHy ac-
" S?{ ^™1® ^""°y° not oome ? " asked ra»~„-..
" He has (tone to JeffrVann rit« » <»Ma i/iarence.
"And yofcame aJone?^ ^' ^ ""^ *^" Goyernor."
*'No, Mr. Brinsmade brought me."
"And mother?"
whenl?it ''sh^^1S'J^L^''tr » "« «»■»
waaafraid the YaS^'3d*2u?r-^'""^''>' "'''«
"NolZ^™ fctiuSirS" '»'J'»t"»." replied he.
ntS^l'S.V?'""'' '»*'«'"■"» ^ "^"^' fkelh&n:^
^^ And you wiU be honored for it when the news reaches
«cL?n"n*^^r/:;^^'f-o-tedeagerly. ..J
"I shoufd like to hear an, one say so," d,e flashed oat.
pi > i
%'4
308
THE CRISIS
" No, said Virrinia, « our friends will force them to release
you. I do not Know much about law. But you hav^ done
nothing to be imprisoned for."
Clarence did not answer at once. Finally he said :
" I do not want to be released."
" You do not want to be released 1 '* she repeated.
"No," he said. "They can exchange me. If I remain
a prisoner, it will have a greater effect — for the South."
She smiled again, this time at the boyish touch of
heroics. Experience, responsibility, and he would get over
that. She remembered once, long ago, when his mother
had shut him up in his room for a punishment, and he had
tortured her by remaining there for two whole dajrs.
It was well on in the afternoon when she drove back to
the city with Mr. Brinsmade. Neither of them had eaten
since morning, nor had they even thought of hunger. Mr.
Brinsmade was silent, leaning back in the comer of the
carri^, and Virginia absorbed in her own thoughts.
Drawing near the city, that dreaded sound, the rumble of
drums, roused them. A shot rang out, and they were
jerked violentiy by the startinr of the horses. As they
dashed across Walnut at Seventti came the fusillade. Vir-
ginia leaned out of the window. Down the vista of the
street was a mass of blue uniforms, and a film of white
smoke hanging about the columns of the old Presbyterian
Church. Mr. Brinsmade quietly drew her back into the
carriage.
The shots ceased, giving place to an angry roar that
struck terror to her heart that wet and lowering afternoon.
The powerful black horses galloped on, Nicodemus tugging
at the reins, and great splotches of mud flying in at the
windows. The roar of the crowd died to an ominous
moaning behind them. Then she knew that Mr. Brins-
made waa speaking : —
"From l»ttle and murder, and from sudden death—
from all sedition, privy conspiracy, and rebellion, — Good
Lord, deliver us."
He was repeating the Litany — that Litany which had
come down through the ages. They had chanted it in
IN THE ARSENAL ^
dark, barricaded steWavs of mJi^^i p "?**^ ^* °" ^«
Bartholomew's nighrwTn if ''''*^ ^f™» *h'0"«I» St.
ran with bW fheV^d chanf^H^^^ '"^ .^^^^^^ ^^^^^^
now it was heard Z^in^?h«v ^^^l^^"* I«dia, and
Republic of Pe^e afd gL Wilf ^ ^"'^*^ '^"^ ^^« New
go^^ntTeLm^'Mtet^K^^ *^^ --'^ -»^-I^ the
traitor^o ^n^tor2th\^ ^"^^^t .^^ ^^e a
three ware? S/^ r sh« K ^T^ ^ 'o^gbt in
from the book Oh To* kS^ *'"™?'^ to blot it forever
a ^P^w?^^^^^ '^^'^ ^^y^ ^ wL'
her ownTteD8^^!r? i^ ^^'- ^rinamade escorted her up
bade her t^f-«^%t,^r^«^^^^^^ a little at partingt'anS
of the trial shfWs to J; .ff^Ti^ ^"^^^5 something
her aunt, 0^^^ mofher "S^^ p^?* "'^i^* ^«°« ^itf
directly home Hfi^.?^* « V . v ^"ns»nade did not go
to his/ Mriri?e and iud'^t wi-' ^1"^^ ^""«« '^^^t dcSr
What passed betw«tn fJ ^! J^^'?P^® ^®'« »° the parlor.
presentee jXe and M? Brin'' ^^ °'* ^^° ^^^"t
and sto^ a Wfa^me in th« "i^'"**^® °*?« °"t together
the rain. ^ ^ "" ^^ ^^^^ conversing, heedfess of
^^^--Wi^r^
CHAPTER XXI
THK STAMPEDE
Sunday dawned, and the people flocked to the churches.
But even in the house of God were dissension and strife.
From the Carvel pew at Dr. Posthelwai.e's Virginia saw
men and women rise from their knees and walk out
their faces pale with anger. At St. Mark's the prayer
for the President of the United States was omitted. Mr.
Russell and Mr. Catherwood nodded approvingly over the
sermon in which the South was justified, and the sanction
of Holy Writ laid upon her Institution. With not indif-
ferent elation these gentlemen watched the departure of
brethren with whom thev had labored for many years, save
only when Mr. Brinsmade walked down the aisle never to
return. So it is that war, like a devastating flood, creeps
insistent into the most sacred places, and will not be
denied. Mr. Davitt, at least, f cached that day to an
united congregation, — which is to say that none of them
went out. Mr. Hopper, who now shared a pew with Miss
Crane, listened as usual with a most reverent attention.
The clouds were low and the streets wet as people walked
home to dinner, to discuss, many in passion and some in
sorrow, the doings of the morning. A certain clergyman
had prayed to be delivered from the Irish, the Dutch, and
the Devil. Was it he who started the old rumor which
made such havoc that afternoon ? Those barbarians of the
foreign citv to the south, drunk with power, were to sack
and loot the city. How it flew across street and alley,
from yard to yard, and from house to house I Privileged
Ned ran into the dining-room where Virginia and her
aunt were sitting, his eyes rolling and his face ashen with
terror, crying out that the Dutch were marching on the
city, firebrands in hand and murder in Uieir hearts.
SIO
THE STAMPEDE 3^^
he\H:d^"''^Betll^Zr P'^^'r^^o^^ Mia. Jinny/'
ain't make ^u dear out 'dLT' ^^^^ ^ ^'^ «^he
a-rattlin' off to de count^'?" ''^^ * ^°" ^"^^ ^« ^"•"dges
tolm^iX;X^ht^& TtlS^^ ^^. ^^^^^ and
upon her alone. Thft wS L *?* household depended
bv generations^- the Je^v of th^r^^\^^^ '^ her
blest slave whose CS ani^w "ir^^j*^' *^^ ^^^ ^'^^-
you leave ms hWiTh.^™ ^>.'»3'= 'Whaffor
What I ewineter ^„er? 0?r?''r ^ ^^ ^^^f'
up de ahutte™ aWSe'Sifonefc •?» "« " i"' P«
By thw time the room was filled IHi.' . •. j
some c^ing, and some lauZng Wete^?°'%^T "f^^"'
had come in from the kitcfim • w^ y-, '''"='« ^en
women were a w^Unf W^i,' -t"" "" *««- ""d the
board. OU EpCTmS^ti^jS^TjT^f ''J ""e eide-
Vii^nia-s eye rested' uZtf^em' ^d S'^,^8'*''*'-
affection was in it. She w«.T;^^C "'*.''?'" <>' 'o™ and
riages wero indeed WtUtoJ^jLde tLri^""^ ^«' «^
M. lUnault •^nZtSufcLVrrSn^^tuiirg
'l|
^^i^^'tri^*:'
312
THE CBISI8
excitedly. Sppng her at the window, he put his hands to
his mouth, cned out something, and ran in again. Vil^
ginia flung open the sash anf listened for Se dreaded
sound of drums. Then she crossed quickly over to where
her aunt was l^ng on the lounge. «« wuere
"O Jinny; murmured that lady, who had revived,
TS!''*^n\?V°°*"*^°«^ Haven't you done anytSng
They wdl be here anv moment to bum us, to murder us
h7a «;;7i, f ^ZE^"" ^l^ ^^y "°'* ^« l^^re to protect
his mother I Why was Comyn so senseless, so thoughtlew!
as to leave us at such a time I " "guwess,
V,Cin1^'''*S'"^ ^^^^ " *."^ °®«^ ^ ^ frightened," said
IZ ^T.*^ * °*^f ?f~ ^^"^ "»*^^ h«' aunt tremble with
wi^r. "It IS probably only a rumor. Ned, run to Mr.
Briusmade's and ask him about it."
f^ ^i?J®''®[i?*^^ ^ 8^°' ^^^ departed at once. All honor
dJr^l t'^""^ "T*^' ''^'* *™ '^^'^ memories, whose
devotion to their masters was next to their love of God
A great fear was m Ned's heart, but he went. And he
beheved devoutly that he would never see his younj? mk
tress any more. ^ *>
And while Ned is running to Mr. Briusmade's, Mrs. Col-
fax 18 summoning that courage which comes to pereons of
her character at such times. She gathers her jewels into a
k ^'^ u?®*" fi?e^^?8se8 into her trunk, with trembling
S.^t''?^^''^ " "7^ '°°"^^ °°^- '^^ Pict^ of
ofh«r^nJ^ v'^'^r^^-n"^^ ***« P"*« iuside the waist
of her gown. No, she will not go to Bellegarde. That is
too ne,^ the city With franticliaste she cWthe toun?
which Ephum and Jackson carry downstairs and place be-
tween the seats of the carriage. Ned had had the horses in it
«nce church time It is not safe outside. But where togo?
To G encoe ? It is three in the afternoon, and Jack! on
explains that^ with the load, they would nit reach S
™.^l^JfK'^^*'iV*^,^- T^Kirkwood or Webster? Yes;
r?Z 1*^^-^** **^^^ ^^^« *^«'«' »"d ^ould take them
m for the riight. Equipages of all sorts are passing, -
private carnages and pubUc, and comer-stand hacks. The
black drivers are cracking whips over galloping horses.
THE STAMPEDE 3^3
river comes the hoa«eThi!Jle nf .K ^*f!^*'«"- ^ ron, the
Sabbath stillness ttZ It ?. . *-^® *^.*** breaking the
Vii^nia leTed Zinsfc 1 Cn' ' -r*^ ^'^^r^hefed.
j;atch?ng the scene^d waitfn^^r ^^'a^ ^^ ^« «*«?»'
Mr. Brinsmade's. Her faT^fi ^f^S** *** '**""» '^
^' The most alanine. re^Tf^i^"**^*-^'."" ^«" »* '"^ht
the street, and sCh^l^rivZ^^ °"'^ "/ *^ ^^'^ ^'om
jmoke of destruction to apla^T^th?r?»? ^!; *^« ^^*<^J^
her were gathered the (SS^^Jo V°"*^™^- Ground
^g. and Imploring her ^ott^V*"*"'.?*^' ^^ ^^^^^^ c^-
Mrs. Colfax's trunf wL bToL^t T^ ^^T' , ^"^ ^^^n
carriage where three Ttherm^-^hfr »"^.,P^»«ed in the
a groan of despair and eZ^Ji^ * ndden to safety,
group that wen? to he? he^**^ "^ ^"^"^ ^^ ^aithfS
and ^f ^^ ™^®^^- ^^~
and get another carriage.'^
case witfi the necklacrS ^iT w^i l^'**^^ jewellenr
mother had worn at her wedZ^ p^ il®' great^rani
Easter were of no use iLI «bl i?"^ ^T*? *°** ^a'""^
again. With a flSSr ah« nn^^/l°* *^"'" downstaiii
to take one last look a? th« IwSTv!^ ^^' wardrobe door,
her. They were naVnfK^^ You will pardon
down onlrSeK ^S fhT «T> «^« ^«»
bottom, and there on tLS fJ^? ^5^** ^'^^ at the
had belonged to Dorothv M^L^ ^\ ^*'°*>^ ?«^n which
of the flowera of thHtL I^^^^^ ^^' ^«" "PO" one
mind the memory of AMe'sW^^^^^ ^Tf.^ '''^ her
episode by the eSe unnn ^if- ?°f3^,^?«« ball, -of the
^th burning faS ^ ""^^^^ ^^^ ^ *h«"ght so often
Sh?i: S^^'te" fr S:^l'"\«^^ ?- -^ hear.
It was her A-gi^roth^r^f^rc^ef heiL^ ^/.F^'
ll
♦er
'li^i^
A.-W
dU
THE CRISIS
the pearls. Silk and satin from Parii are loft behind.
With one glanoe at the bed in which she had slept sinoe
ohildhcwd, and at the picture over it which had been her
mother s, she hurries downstairs. And Dorothy Mannen*s
gown IS under her arm. On the landing she stops to
brush her eyes with her handkerchief. If only her father
were here I ^
w^^' !??™ " ^^^ **°^ *fif**°- ^^ M'- Brinsmade come?
What did he say ? Ned simplv pointed out a young man
standing on the steps behind the negroes. Crimson stains
were on Virginia's cheeks, and the package she carried
under her arm was like lead. The young man, although
he showed no sijgns of excitement, reddened too as he
came forward and^took oflf his hat. But the sight of him
had a curious effect upon Virginia, of which she was at
first unconscious. A sense of security came upon her as
she looked at his face and listened to his voice.
" Mr. Brinsmade has gone to the hospital, Miss Carvel,"
he said. " Mrs. Brinsmade asked me to come here with
your mar m the hope that I might persuade you to stav
where you are." '^ j j
"Then the Oermans are not moving on the citv?" she
said. ^
In spite of himself, Stephen smiled. It was that smile
that angered her, that made her rebel against the advice
he hiMl to oflfer; that made her forget the insult he had
risked at her hands by coming there. For she believed
him utterly, without reservation. The moment he had
spoken she was convinced that the panic was a silly scare
which would be food for merriment in future years. And
yet — was not that smile in derision of herself— of her
friends who were running away? Was it not an assump-
tion of Northern superiority, to be resented ?
" It is only a malicious rumor. Miss Carvel," he answered.
" You have been told so upon good authority, I suppose,"
she said dryly. And at the change in her tone she saw
his face fall.
"I have not," he replied honestly, «but I will submit it
to your own judgment. Yesterday General Harney super-
THE STAMPEDE 3,^
^n.''l!'^!^^Zj''^Zt' Z^'' f'^"^- Some
*^l» away, to avoidT fmSS n * 9?*"*"^ *<> •«n<i the
Blair repT^nl^'t!^^(^^t£:,'^^ won!.) '^CoUl
be sent away, as they had E^II l^- * J* J"^P* ''^'^^^^ »«*
St. Louia; whereuKe^ene^"f„\ "^'^'i «"^3^ '»
■tites that he has Vn ,.«!,* Ji i" ^" proclamation
That sentence irCtwi«Sir' *^'** "?"»« »»"^»-
feaaion that the Home GulS^li^ 'TJ" ?~*^ '"**^ » <^on.
can assure you, mS, CW? " ^"j'^^^^^c^ contmlled. 1
with a force^which^^e C U ,„d^h^^^^^^^^^ '^'^'""^
you from a penoiul knn»,ilj « .i „""• ' «»» a«ure
they .re nX^otou, "r^ftW ^k° ^'™'" ^P> "»'
the city to relS Zm." ^ **" '" °''°"8'> "8^« »
%hrSth^eot^T.r,'3t"si''™p'y'-;«^^
ninning on his black tace perapiration
N<^" no&^'do5;^"^"^'>8« *-^^in this town.
In the iidstof S^^h^v, "^'.,"°°* ^ """^ them,
the carriaee. whew jS. 1* ^/"1 ''*'' """t calling from
for her t^quXtk ^" *° *""*' '^"^ ^ M room
hJ^Sot^::rblj;J^.^±T''^° «». Stephen. Ha
if ue, Dui was still standing m the rain on the steps.
I'
I
i.
If
5i; i
; (
♦"*!
316
THE CRISIS
the one figure of 8ti;ength and coolness she had seen this
afternoon. Distracted, she blamed the fate which had made
this man an enemy. How willingly would she have leaned
upon such as he, and submitted to his guidance.
U^uckily at that moment came down the street a eroup
which had been ludicrous on any other day, and was, iS
truth, ludicrous to Stephen then. At the hid of it wis a
little gentleman with red mutton^jhop whiskers, hatless, in
spite of the ram beginning to faU. His face was the veiv
cancature of terror. His clothes, usually neat, were awr/,
and his arms were full of various things, not the least con-
spicuous of which was a magnificent bronze clock. It was
this object that caught Virginia's eye. But yeare passed
before she laughed over it. Behind Mr. Cluyme ffor it
was he) trotte<f his familv. Mrs. Cluyme, in a pi4 wropper,
earned an armful of the family silver; then came BeUeTth
certain articles of feminine apparel which need not be
enumerated, and the three small Cluymes of various aires
brought up the rear. °
Mr. Cluyme, at the top of his speed, was come opposite
to the carriage when the lady occupant got out of it.
Uutchmg at his sleeve, she demanded where he was goine.
Ihe bronze clock had a narrow escape.
"To the river," he gasped, "ft the river, madam!"
S!t r'^Tf^"";^- ^^J^\^^^^^^ narrower escape still.
Mrs. Colfax retained a handful of Lice from the rapoer,
the owner of which emitted a shriek of fright.
"Virginia, I am going to the river," said Mrs. CoLax.
You may go where you choose. I shall send the carriage
back for you. Ned, to the levee I "
Ned did not lift a rein.
"What, you black rascal I You won't obey me 1 "
Ned swung on his seat. "No, indeedy. Miss Lilly, I
a t a-ewine thout voung Miss. The Dutch kin cotch
\^ ??^f °^®\ ^"* t '"'^'^ a-gwine 'thout Miss Jinny."
di V " ®^^ **^"* ^" shouldera with
-.*i7®'^i7®"' Y}^""^" she said. "Ill as I am, I shall
walk. Bear witness that I have spent a precious hour
ain
me sa
THE STAMPEDE
317
<li«mo*fnUy with 1^2^^ '"^ ''*'« »"<• "^ in
had token Six na/,«f VlT J?^A ^^ *P? »"» ere that ladv
that lady
into eubmiiioSTiS .he Tefhl^tf A^^"*^ "»■ «<"fei
ri«ge beside the S Th.Z^^'*' '/?,'»<''' *»*« *« ear-
Stephen to rightMus ;n~,'^7'"^ °' ""• Colfai'e stune
that he might not look unon w i • ^® ^^ned to go
on the resolution, swunX ^f k'''?^"''?" ' »°<i ^angiL
ing. He saw in heT^! deeD^i^fr T'^i^ 5^ «3^«« ^i.^
an evening's storm She w2 ci?m a^n^ '^ *^V^^^« ^^^^
quiver of ^e voice, misS^sTof he«:i? V^ ^T » ^"1«
group of cowering Ur^L ' '^^ *P^^« *« the
^^^^'^d;'^i>l^tCk^^^ thebox .:th Ned.
mav follow. Ephum v?u atev t ^""Z^ 'f ***** *h« 'est
bun'S^unleThe?:^ steoTl^fS^ P--« Httle
Heedless of the ^h^L^SF^^ '5*°. *^^ carriage,
to the carriage d^^''^^^'*^^*^«'»««nt?tephen
sWlWappy^' "* ^^ """^''^ ^ CarveV he said, "I
She glanced at him wildly.
no, she cried, « no. Drive on Nflri f »
doo^rfnrt^:^-^ ^"^^^ anVs-iSl slammed the
-STeZirXl"^^^^^ -hit« atones
chocolate water into fmJhanrAi ^^^ i^P" ?«1*«<1 the
bluils beyond the IIW'.^..* ^^?® "^^^^ hid t^e distent
levee rich^^dpSDrS^fn^*^'""^^^ ^«^»'«« the
and would bave'r;S.^;fe^%^^^^^^^^
been no boats to save S 7i^i*^®/''*'** had there
Attib and his Haas wei^ not L^,™ *?« l^f^^ed D«t<5h.
xiiaimne were not more fearud. Oh, the mystery
4
318
THE CRISIS
of that foreim city I What might not its Barbarians do
when roused? The rich and poor struggled together; but
money was a power that day, and many were pitilessly
turned off because they did not have the high price to
carry them — who knew where ?
Boats which screamed, and boats which had a dragon's
roar were backing out of the close ranks where they had
stood wheel-house to wheel-house, and were dodging and
bumping in the channel. See, their guards are black with
people I Mrs. Colfax, when they are come out of the
narrow street into the great open space, remarks this with
alarm. All the boats will be gone before they can get
near one. But Virginia does not answer. She is thinkmg
of other things than the steamboats, and wondering whether
It had not been preferable to be killed by Hessians.
Ned spies the Barbara Lane. He knows that her cap-
tain, Mr. Vance, is a friend of the family. What a
mighty contempt did Ned and his kind have for foot-
pasfcngers I Laying about him with his whip, and shout-
\ng at the top of his voice to make himself heard, he sent
the Colonel's Kentucky bays through the crowd down to
t\ie Barbara' % landing stage, the people scampering to the
nght and left, and the Carvel servants, headed by Uncle
Ben, hanging on to the carriage springs, trailing behind.
Here was a triumph for Ned, indeed I He will tell you to
this day how Mr. Catherwood's carriage was pocketed by
drays and bales, and how Mrs. James's horses were seized
by the bridles and turned back. Ned had a head on his
shoulders, and eyes in his head. He spied Captain Vance
himself on the stage, and bade Uncle Ben hold to the
horses while he shouldered his way to that gentleman.
The result was that the Captain came bowing to the car-
riage door, and offered his own cabin to the ladies. But
the niggers — he would take no niggers except a maid for
each ; and he begged Mrs. Colfax's pardon — he could not
carry her trunk.
So Virginia chose Mammy Easter, whose red and yellow
turban was awry from fear lest she be left behind; and
Ned was instructed to drive the rest with all haste to
THE STAMPEDE
ant^r^ia h% V ^^« ^- Colfax his am,
loualyas the boat was cLtoff It w^ «Tjann^ prodig.
he could tum an oath better ttian If ^'^ ""^^^ thS
M« TS° ""^ reputato *°^ """^ °° «»e river.
g;dcUe/a„d floateHo^lf ri::J^r^^^ ? ^ ^-^«-
for siMals of a conflaijration jJat • ^"^H anxiously
wished that the city mi jrbZ Q^V'-" *>* ^^^^ «he
us may at times desire mW^ .^ '* ^*^** *he best of
jahce may be fed. vS W«T?°^ *^** «^ own
flame creep along the wet ^ J f ^®^^ ^ «ee the yeUow
Paye to hfr eyef af th^'^Jh^^^hf o'i^th ^^^^.^ ^ tea™
had suflPered,-and before A^mof^f?' humUiation she
ever hve with her aunt after wL 1 ^ ?®''' Co"W she
^n^^on with that Yankee » The ho^t?'^.^^ • " ^ariy!
h« K i r«^^^' *««' was stiU ag-abs? S^nK '"^""5°^ °' ^^^ ^
he had been sent bv cirrnm!? ^^tephen. Once more
people. If the city wStl^f S ^ "^^^ ^^^ and her
judgment might for Z^ }u» ^ ?1™' *^at his cocksure
once broken T ^''"^ ^ mistaken, his calmness ?or
At Art tV^^^^^^^^ ¥^<^ *^e - turned
the western flood of%ht, I^d,ta!rh^"°" ^^^^^
tom-lands. Not a sound <Sturl^?!K^"°«^. ^^«' ^he bot-
receding to the northward Ini.K *^? ^"'^^ of the city
^1 of smoke from o^l't ^On LT ^'^ ^»«hed thi
died down to natural tone^ men ll^^ ^^'^'^^ voices
and promenaded on the W^!" ^T^^"" ®° the guards
d20
THE CRISIS
E ■:
Colonel Carvel had put up with much from his wife's sister-
in-law. She could pass over, but never forgive what her
aunt had said to her that afternoon. Mrs. Colfax had
often been cruel before, and inconsiderate. But as the
girl thought of the speech, staring out on the waters, it
suddenly occurred to her that no lady would have uttered
it. In all her life she had never realized till now that
her aunt was not a lady. From that time forth Virginia's
attitude toward her aunt was changed.
She controlled herself, however, and answered some-
thing, and went out listlessly to find the Captain and
inquire the destination of the boat. Not that this mattered
much to her. At the foot of the companionway leading
to the saloon deck she saw, of all people, Mr. Eliphalet
Hopper leaning on the rail, and pensively expectorating
on the roof of the wheel-house. In another mood Vir-
ginia would have laughed, for at sight of her he straight-
eued convulsively, thrust his quid into his cheek, and
removed his hat with more zeal than the grudging defer-
Dlearly Elii
Clearly Eliphalet
ence he usually accorded to the sex.
would not have chosen the situation.
"I cal'late we didn't get out any too soon. Miss Carvel,"
he remarked, with a sad attempt at jocoseness. « There
won t be a great deal in that town when the Dutch set
through with it." ®
•. "^ ^¥^^ *!*** ^^^^ "^e enough men left in it to save
It, said Virgima.
Apparently Mr. Hopper found no suitable answer to
this, for he made none. He continued to glanco at her
uneasily. There was an impudent tribute in his look
which she resented strongly.
" Where is the Captain ? ^' she demanded.
"He's down below — ma'am," he replied. "Can-
can I do anything ? "
"Yes," she said, with abrupt maliciousness, "you may
tell me where you are going."
"I cal'late, up the Cumberland River. That's where
she s bound for, if she don't stop before she gets there.
Cruess there ain't many of 'em inquired where she was
"&»
THE STAMPEDE
to "dX5 ^hrselr .Y S^tt ^'^'^ ^« ^«^^ ^^'^^^ upon
Panionwav, bU ^ff ? ^^^J^^^ her up ^he com.
«tock of patience, Mr. hS '^ ^ ^"«« *° infinite
patience in his smUe. fiSrh:^ ^®''*"«- There was
tolookupo^ "*'* ^*« '^ot a pleasant sS
Virginia did not see if <2k l ^
news, and stood in X breeze «^^,,*«J? ^'' «"°t the
^^^,^°fi^ southward, with herTndHSJ^^ hurricane deck
jffarWa Lane happened to bfa h^^J °?, ^^' «y««- The
her name was ^n ,« *u '^** ^^th a record anJ
" Ws start of h«f^T^°" rfe'' i''-' had tS
procession. * " ^^^ near the head of the
plS'arSJ^f ^ fc« "'"^ that people were
toward aem. OthS, had^^n'^i?* »* f b«' co»^
fte dread newm turned Ck B„, ,\'- "'"<=''; <"> l«»raini
•toadjly up the eur«nt.Tthou.S i '■? T ^«P' 'w bow
biMuit-tose of the leader of thf,,^ ^ f^ ""Wn a
Jben that Captain Vauoe-s'llaf^tZlpSbollZ
the^ butch." ^'''''* **^« her nght into the jaws of
I
t
i A
322
THE CRISIS
gentlemen who had begun to be shamefaced over their
panic, and these went in a body to the Captain and asked
him to communicate with the Juanita. Whereupon a
certain number of whistles were sounded, and the Bar-
harass bows headed for the other side of the channel.
As the Juanita drew near, Vijyinia saw the square
figure and clean, smooth-shaven nee of Captain Lige
standing in front of his wheel-house. Peace crept back
into her soul, and she tingled with joj as the bells
clanged and the bucket-planks churned, and the great
New Orleans packet crept slowlv to the Barbara't side.
" You ain't goin* in, Brent ? *^ shouted the Barbara' 9
captain.
"Why not?" responded Mr. Brent. At the sound of
his voice Virginia could have wept.
" The Dutch are sa6king the city," said Vance. ♦' Didn't
they tell you?"
" The Dutch — hell I " said Mr. Brent, cahnly. " Who's
afraid of the Dutch ? "
A general titter went along the guards, and Virginia
blushed. Why could not the Captain see her?
"Tm on my reg'lar trip, of course," said Vance. Out
there on the sunlit river tiie situation seemed to call for
an apology.
" Seems to be a little more loaded than common," re-
marked Captain Lige, dryly, at which there was another
general laugh.
"If you're really goin' up," said Captain Vance, "I
reckon there's a few here would like to be massacred, if
you'll take 'em."
" Certainly," answered Mr. Brent ; " I'm bound for the
harheeue.^' And he gave a command.
While the two great boats were manceuvring, and
slashing with one wheel and the other, the gongs sound-
ing, Virginia ran into the cabin.
"Oh, Aunt Lillian," she exckimed, "here is Captain
Lige and the Juanita, and he is going to take us back
with him. He says there is no danger.
It is unnecessary here to repeat the moral persuasion
THE STAMPEDE «^
WM at the other end. Hi, w'l.vW" £'«« '''"««
people «8ide, he rushed ae^ tSlAtt. , ^'"t'"» ""
negro", anna, crying • _ ™* "matched the lady from the
.toutiah gentleman dipped o"? Ll ^„„"V^' !""'«»• »
e»rpet-bag in hia hand It t^^ It ."?noti<!ed, with a
The plSik WM <Wn in Tr ""* "^"^ ■»• -ff-
^ the foolhardy lunattaTXbWeS r^l'^r?-''^
the jawsof destruotion. Mb. ^tl-T^ " ?° '*'''' ""o
«nd Virginia, in a riow. o^bj?^ clf'V' '»'''»'
homoane deck. There fW^!L!?7^ ^laptain Lige to the
watdung the brJeLm^FtheXt™ >;:'^? """"»'»•
hy^^'s^ligt:!^; ««^-^wa ra
He never knew why she bloahed «, farfouriy.
i H
CHAPTER XXII
I
THE STEAINING OP ANOTHER FRIENDSHIP
Captain Lige asked but two questions: where was
the Colonel, and was it true that Clarence had refused to
be paroled? Though not possessing over-fine suscepti-
bilities, the Captain knew a mud-^iim from a laay's
watch, as he himself said. In his solicitude for Virginia,
he saw that she was in no state of mind to talk of the
occurrences of the last few days. So he helped her to
climb the little stair that winds to the top of the texas,
-—that sanctified roof where the pilot-house squats. The
girl clung to her bonnet. Will you like her any the less
when you know that it was a shovel bonnet, with long
red ribbons that tied under her chin ? It became her
wonderfully. " Captain Lige," she said, almost tearfully,
as she took his arm, "how I thank heaven that you came
up the river this afternoon I "
"Jinny," said the Captain, "did you ever know why
cabins are called ttateroomtf"
" Why, no," answered she, puzzled.
" There was an old fellow named Shreve who ran steam-
boats before Jackson fought the redcoats at New Orleans.
In Shreve's time the cabins were curtained off, just like
these new-fangled sleeping-car berths. The old man built
wooden rooms, and he named them after the different
states, Kentuck, and Illinois, and Pennsylvania. So that
when a fellow came aboard he'd say : ' What ttate am I
m, Cap ? ' And from this river has the ^^ame spread all
over the world — stateroom. That's mighty interettina,"
said Captain Lite.
"Yes," said Virginia; "why didn't you tell me long
ago ? " wo
884
^ STB.n,U,0 0. ^OTHEH ™^„SHIP S2S
; f
AKicaui
notiZ'ta:^!^: r' £?i "O" Tuft, got tut
<.u?^o^i& 2s ?»p,ss "r 'rt-t ''"'■ H'- *„
waa very much the «me^l„, *o' ''^'' ''^oceros. It
lengths, ike a worn!^tm„p°f- >,;,"'' Kf^^led h«r waa a
" wgle's olaw, and hia & " i"""^ reminded one of
greeted only such people aTh, Tl" * P'°« /eUow. He
eye^Wtion, a™ mto^"T^ '*''• "^-^-hly. -how i. the
WiUiajn abandoned himaelf f„ i .
"He snya that you are the W?7i 1* qualificationa."
don^t believe it," Lid vJr^i^'* ^^"* °° *^« "ver. but I
William cackled airain ««* j
leather-padded seat af the ^Xoftht ^^. ^?' ^«' «° «»e
for a longtime she sat starwl fu**? P'^°* ^^"se* where
jackstaff between tS iS^|,* V^^ ^« trembKng on thl
down^ but his light linS^d Tt^ ^-^l T^« '"'^ fell
boat forged abreast thffo^^ *i^L*^' l^ove « the big
There was the arsena] «,^^ ? °**7 ^^ South St. Louis
qmof trip againat the S" '*'"''• "We've made,'
I <
f 'rfl
326
THE CRISIS
*^j f 'T* J ^I?' ™®° *^°°8 ^® ^«^«« ^•»«i that siffnal
and laughed. The joke was certainly not on tturdy Elijah
isrenta
An hour later, Virginia and her aunt and the Captain,
foUowed bv Mammy Easter and Rosetta and Susan, were
walking through the streeto of the stillest city in the
Union. All that they met was a provost's guard, for St
Louw was under Martial Law. Once in a while they
saw the hght of some contemptuous citizen of the resi-
dence district who had stayed to Uugh. Out in the sub-
urbs, at the country houses of the first famiUes, people of
distinction slept five and six in a room — many with only
a quilt between body and matting. Little wonder that
these dreamed of Hessians and destruction. In town they
slept with their doors open, those who remained and had
faith. Mart-a law means passes and explanations, and
walking generally in the light of day. Martial law means
that the Commander-in-chief, if he be an artist in well
doing, may use his boot freely on poUticiana bland or beetle-
browed. No police force ever gave the sense of security
inraired by a provost's guard.
Captain Lige sat on the steps of Colonel Carvel's house
that night, long after the ladies were gone to bed. The
only sounds breaking the silence of the city were the beat
of the feet of the marching squads and the call of the cor-
poral s relief. But the Captain smoked in agony until the
clouds of two days sUpped away from under the stars, for
he was trying to decide a Question. Then he went up to
a room in the house which had been known as his since
the rafters were put down on that floor.
The next morning, as the Captain and Virginia sit at
breakfast together with only Mammy Eaater to cook and
Kosetta to wait on them, the Colonel bursts in. He is
dusty and travel-stained from his night on the train, but
his gray eves Ught with ailection as he sees his friend
beside his daughter.
« Jinny," he cries as he kisses her, « Jinny, I'm proud of
you, my girl I You didn't let the Yankees frighten you.
But where is Jackson ? '* » ^
THE OTIUmmG OF ANOTHER PEIEND8HIP 327
conversation and he refuJa^hp nL \T?^ £*'* »° the
he"s2d' "^^But^tWnWutu^M ^^r^- that's sure,"
City isn't precisely aSet Th« ? .^*' '^'°°^- Jefferson
or Will have ^^ ^litla I ??^ ^ f"* '""'^ "^^^^tia,
miss the thousand tC stole in r!^ ""'t ^T^' ^« ^«°'t
organizing np^theT^ A^a i^ ^"^P ^''^^^''' They're
What-, this 1 hea/Zuf cL«„.^V^""- ™ «° '»'«'•
CoJoTlL'^J'i'litt* """"""f" of Saturday. The
to go for Woriii»S,n V^r'-' » ^11 that we have to do is
AndwithSoA^o^Ieft'if, ,^ ^'" ^ ~'°" "«•"
«o. the, heard the r^ K^bS hii". 'S^S"
!*•
1==^
926
THE CBISI8
friS^^f fi,^ L;°' daughter dared in that hour add to tha
Ih^i I *^* "^i? by speaking out the dread that mm'm
their hearte. The dolonel smoked f >r a while, not a word
. A * . . ^^! ™" ^^^' »*"* see RuMell, Jinnv" he
•aid, striving to be cheerful. " We mustwt the bS^ out
J ^*h^Xk'to"h^ -^pped abruptly Tthe a rd
perea to himself, " if I could only go to Silas I "
nie good Colonel got Mr. Russell, and they went to
Mr. Worington, Mrs. Colfax's Uwyer, of wh^ wlitic^
It IS not necessary to speak. There wi plent^f «ciS^
issuea tne wnt. There lacked not gentlemen of influenofi
WeTtd't'r''" '^'^" *°^ C?ronel°c\"rvd"aSnh:
lawyer and the Commissioner to the Arsenal. Thev were
admitted to the presence of the indomitable Lyon, X
iniormed them that Captain Colfax was a prisoner of Tar
and, since the arsenal was Government property, noT^V^
dav?fiS;-p?' Commissioner thereupon atteSSd^ hTaffi^
iTZ'^lriX''^ "^"^ ''"* ""' *^^"^^*^°° ^°' ^'
These things the Colonel reported to Virginia; and to
sand quenes as to whether that Yankee rufean would Tv
uphold ; whether the Marshal would not be cwt over the
^rve7he":^t'^ tS'"^^ '' ^%^^^-^ when he Tntt
S^J of f^^iS ?^^ "^^ °''* *h« language, but the pur-
ES?'a Lt' l^K% ^"^*!°°f • , ColonSl dkrvel had mJe
but a light breakfast : he had had no dinner, and little
rest on t'Le train. But he answered his sister-in-law ^th
"^•^k'?^ coj^tesy. He was too honest to express! h^De
which he did not feel. He had returned that^ evening to
J^^Z ^°r^°ld« „^"^°«^ ^h« ^''y ^^^ serva^tTiad
stra^led in from Bellegarde, and Virginia had had pre-
parecT those dishes which her father loved. Mrs Co&ax
&ful ""ILt' '^^"^ ''' J'^^^ ^^« *-« werTsSenUy
tnankful. Jackson announced supper. The Colonel wi
THE STRAINIXO OF ANOTHER FRIENDSHIP .,29
•y«i M he took his chair Sl^^S?® ^^ yearning in her
caurht her fcreaat whenTTe aTw ^t Jhll^' *^*?- ^he
lay ontouohed. "^* *"* '<>«1 on his plate
Hr***^J'lH^^^"'*«'»Itered.
-he haS^vt'^:"*^' *"''^' '"^^^ •"ff^""^ in his looK .
;:DM,heteU,oi^.^Jtehef^^^^^^^^^^
he4^t St;t:VL%h&^ "fV^ ">^- tf. t
"It ia because he lovi yoJ pWn'^'^'^? ''^ ' '
firently, " it is because he wX- ^^"^"^ *^' *f''^'
He said nothing to thaf vT^ • •
softlv around the table Sh«^*^T «^°* "P' »»<* ^ent
"fa I" ^'®- ®^® ^®"»e<i over his shoulder.
"Yes," he said, his voice lifeless.
A long w6le she waited for r' ^"'^ ~ '^''^ ? "
dock ticked out the S^ !^' ^? ^'^^^'^ while the big
heart beat Wildly "" "^^^"^ *° *h« hall, and he?
^X/fLfurS:!'S''' ''^' ^^°« ^ ^ ^-« a 'oof,
him;ret"^^^yr,tt^^^^^^ ^^t she did not ask
supper warm, ^d^efi inL .k ^ "^^-^^^ *« 1^««P the
liglSts were oulTaierbut tt i' ^»™g-room. The
mother's lay open H^r fJnl ???* P'*°° <=hat was her
wondrous C^which JuZ,"wv T°, '*^' ^^^^^ That
years has b^n ib7^tfo^^^ ^^'PP^.« ^r«^' which for
foftly with the ZhTS!""! ^J .illTJ" Ji^i-^' floated
it was
softly with the r^^^r • . r T^^^ »« bistres
paused.
ShaU we follow him ?
Jarvel heard it, and
1
1
S90
THE CRISIS
He did not itop again until he reached the narrow street
at the ton of the levee bank, where the quaint stone houses
of the old French residents were being loaded with 'wares
He took a few steps back — up the hUl. Then he wheeled
about, walked swiftly down the levee, and on to the land-
mg^itage beside which the big Juanita loomed in the night.
Oo jer bows was set, fantastically, a yellow street-car.
The Colonel stopped mechanically. Its unexpected
appearance there had served to break the current of his
meditetions. He stood staring at it, while the roustabouts
passed aud repassed, noisily carrying great logs of wood
on shoulders padded by their woollen caps.
" That'll be the first streetcar used in the city of New
Orleans, if it ever gets there. Colonel."
The Colonel jumped. Captain Lige was standing be-
side him. ^
" Lige, is that you ? We waited supper for you.*'
»' Reckon I'll have to stay here and boss the cargo all
night. Want to get in as many trips as I can before —
navigation closes," the Captain concluded significantly.
Colonel Carvel shook his head. ♦♦ Y \ were never too
bus^ to come for supper, Lige. I reckon the cargo isn't
Captain Lige shot at him a swift look. He gulped.
"Come out here on the levee," said the Colonel, sternly.
They walked out together, and for some distance in
silence.
" Lige," said the elder gentleman, striking his stick ou
the stones, "if there ever was a straight goer, that's you.
You ve always dealt squarely with me, and now I'm goinjr
to ask you a plain question. Are you North or South ? ''
"I m North, I reckon," answered the Captain, bluntly.
The Colonel bowed his head. It was a long time before
he spoke again. The Captain waited like a man who
expects and deserves the severest verdict. But there waa
no anger in Mr. Carvel's voice — only reproach.
"And you wouldn't tell me, Lige? You kept it from
me.
" My (Jod, Colonel," exclaimed the other, passionately,
THE 8TEAINIK0 OF «,OTHER TOEND8HIP .,31
devU. If Tou and di. »«. tf t ''°''* ■"" go™ to tie
m life? l'w«"cow.°rr.i?^:t TSii "'"" V« ' '»"
!»»• gue«ed it. And yel- gL t T"" ^''"' »»"
.t«d By „d.ee the nation «;. toX,. '''v'"''-' «»''
weUaa mine, Colonel. YouAttu'^ •. Your nation a»
^ might inheriie ^^h -'''•"^°"«.J' '»»' *? ^me"
you «.d iin^l ^uSnTfea J" '..•*» "^»"
Of trt?^S^ KlWrt^t'-e direction
"Yes, Colonel."
^»:^^^\:r^^!ir%^' »««•■ -tone, „»«.
glided along the darltlJatof"- "' "■"■• ">« %hta
"W didn't I raiae you? Haven't t » ...
my houae waa your hoie» ri^f k 1'*°?''* yo» that
but never epeat to meZam „?^t'^^ '^'P- B"t_
waiting for J^ " ■»« "W"" of thia night f Jinny fa
3«tat'.tU':"*i?t!^.^^ro?t^"'," '!»y -» "P the
3«or wa. auufoXl^vLitlL '".' '"."'e entrj the
Oh, P.. I knew you would bSng him back." die «ud.
^'^^.
m-'
:.!
i^MMM
ii^
^-^■j'^*^
CHAPTER XXIII
OF CLABENCE
the conversation of a bilnit! H- *■■« "»"? topics oJ
Colfax kept her room, and admitted only f few of fa";
88S
OP CLARENCE ^^
presence. ** * ^" admitted to h^r aunt's
X"of ct^..""* ''«-^<=»- bJ;^s'„.^*t!
han'l-'i'ntn.t^hX^o'? Z PT"""'' J--^ ^-d her
snored the shalfown^ c' W .S .h '' *'?*"' 'b* h««
d«ys. But now Mrs ColW. i "haracter in happier
ecy with it. VirS; B^d^l ""l""'. """'^ • P^oph-
on. the years to cfmT-on tie ~in''!h'*'""°« '"r-^e'
bring with them from thiaUree^'^if'^ *"* ^'^^y ^
war , her father gone (for^e IpTS f!"' «""« ^ tl>e
the end). Virgin^ foi^w the li„.l V* *"'''<' «" '•>
company with thia vain wLan .i " ^ ^T °' «»' in
couffln-a mother. /raT mor. f^? f "r"' "■«'J» h"
mother of the man she wL. ,„ ** '"^ """'« b" the
aoaroely bear thXSXTTth'^J'X The girl could
of the eventa of two LL .h. S*'^? the hurry and awing
But now-Clarenr,3o L''™l^S" 'i?" ""er mind*
would be coming home tn K*., L *^f ^f8«a- To-morrow he
»b« did not love^hfrn'st :;^^{^"Jiy ^f 5'^ 'T^^^' ^'^^
and ^i«. She had cheated^Wlf 1 ^ ^**'? ^^'^^ *8^»°
other feelings. She hadZ nn f^f ^f" *°^ *8^»»» ^ith
the shrine where it did noTbelo„a"'^'.°ri'^ ^^^^^^y in
for a while. She saw Clarp^i« ^' ^"'l'* ^'^^ answered -
a fatal intimate L?wlete"^i\* ^^^^o's light -until
back. And vet W . i^- ^^^ shudder and draw
She woufd"car^\^4ro;^!'"" ^^'^"^'^ '^^^ I- waSr
fe
.J*>^^^
834
THE CRISIS
Captain Li«j 8 ohaery voice roused her from below —
and her father's laugh. And a. she went down to them
8he thanked God that this friend had been spared to hiiT
l7nl^ . w ^fP*^"'* ."^«' 7"°" been'^better told
than at the table that evening. Virginia did not see him
to her f^e ** ^"^ ^* ^'^ ^""""^^^ * *™»"
" I'm going to leave Jmny with you, Lige," said Mr
Carvel presently. « Woiington has i>me notion that the
^^n'f^Ti^.K' Anenal to-night with the writ. I
iiiustn t neglect the .. ,y.*'
Viivinia stood in front of him.
tr'^^ ^°" let me go ?" lOie pleaded.
af hi® ^T^ ^ **^*° *****'^' "« «*««<J looking down
at^her, stroking his goatee, and marveUing at the ways of
^ The horses have been out all day, Jinny," he said, « I
am flroing m the cars." ^ *
"I can go in the cars, too."
The Colonel looked at Captain Lige.
-There is only a chance that we shall see Clarence," he
went on, uneasily.
"It is better than sitting still," cried Virginia, as she
ran away to get the bonnet with the red strings.
i. 'luTu !f 1? *^® Colonel, as the two stood awaiting her
in the hall, " I can't make her out. Can you ? "
The Captain did not answer.
It was a long journey, in a bumping car with bad
spnngsthat ratfled unceasingly, past the string of pro-
vost guards. The Colonel sat in tWcorner, wit£ his hWi
bent down over his stick. At length, cramped and weary
past the sentries to the entrance. The sergeant brought
his rifle to a "port." ""«"v
" Commandant's orders, sir. No one admitted,' he sud.
" Is Captain Colfax here ? " asked Mr. Carvel.
" Captain Colfax was taken to Illinois in a skiflF. quar-
ter of an hour since." ^
Captain Lige gave vent to a long, low whistle.
OF CLAREKCE
•wo
.kiff^ !^'"'" "oWmed, » tnd th. riyer thi, higk • A
up excitedly. Colo^irr.!??, * '""'^' »' people hurried
o Ji£S £nF-- p- u.e CO..
Captain Lige fXwS " "" ""''■ ^^^i"'' »«>d
4«ral^^r11.r;zx.^'"^i?eVif'r^"^
" Rescued ! " /"""if looi i We had him rescued."
<^'"^\^^^^^^^^ Andalot
around. When we saw 'em T^!! ^ ^' '^**'® standing
and had the guard ov*rVw^rSl,T?' 7/ '^^ ^^ ^"«^
to stand back." ^^^Po^ered. But Colfax called out
"Well, sir."
aprisonerandgo^^tTe' ^n ht»'.r»P-^ ^ «^n
There was a silence. Thi--
star^dT walterttTa^'C'tf T'^^ '^"^ *^«^
Colonel together. VirS^ia nut h t ^T^f" *°d *»»«
Captain's arm. In the <Skn«-f ? i^^ J*°^ through the
-Don't you be frtSed nnn'^^^'^^^'^^^^^^i^-
reckon they'll feteh nn i. Ti'r ""^',*^ ^*»»t I said. I
Virginia was cry ng If tW Sh?^^ ^^' soothingly,
the past few daysZn often fSk ,^*f «f "^^ more^ fn
twenty. «Th«r*.^^ ?• *^H ^ *^**« ^«>t of one^nd-
himseff. He tWh^o7'i^""^• ^' ^'^' ^^« '^^ng
taken her on ^S and ki^^:?^!, "**^">' ^^"^^ ^^ ^«^
do tliat no mZ ^ ThprL ^\' ^*"- »« ™igi»t
prisoner on the gr^t blJ^S^ Jt!.l^? >?^Sr C^Ptain, a
e «.v uuoK nver, who had a better right.
386
THE CRISIS
£r^th« wi ''^"^^'^i " *^«y ^>ted in the silent street
for the lonely car, if Chirenoe loved her as well as he
uranf "''^ ""tf^ ^^ "^^f" ^^y "^^"^ ^ome, and Vinrinia
went silently up to her room. Colonel Carvel sW
t^^ihin^ht' *t{: «^«^ ,1^ friend as he t'S
fhJ^*' T ^»*i" «la°*in9 o^e' tl»e tops of the houses
the next morning when Virginia, a ghoSy fiimre c^
down the stairs and withdrewTe IcSk and hSi in tTe
of^'SUr- A^t 'J^* ™ »^"^» "^« ^«' the twittering
hTstnel^^^nl?^^^^
She sat long behind the curtains in her father's littlp
ibrary, the thoughts whirliuK in her brain asX watched
i^' f,'''''''^ ^^l of pother d^y. Whatwo^dhS
forth? Once she stole so =t.ly bi^k to the entry, sel?
indulgent and anhamed, to ie«r«» again the b tterTnd
the sweet of that scene of tiie Sunda/before She Hum
t^J^^f '? ^"'?* ^^ ^^' ^righteoed servants She
seemed to feel again the cab power and eamestnesn nf
h!« a T vl' ^^®° **** ^' ^ ^^^ frightened, into
the sombre librarv, conscience-stricken that she sCld
have yielded to this temptation then, wh«i Cl^rW-
TK? f A® "*"'°J,«^ ^ angry river and the dark ni^M
This had haunted her. If he iere spared, she nrave?for
table and Vircrmia took refuge in it. And her eves,
glancing over tHe pages, rested on this verse ?1 ^^
That beat to battle where he stands ;
1 by faee acron his fancy comes.
And gives the battle to his hands."
OP CLARENCE
Til ^^
not a, alert then as now rll™ i r. N«w.pape„ were
to the A,«„., i„ „.»„7- Cdonel Cartel wj.'^ff -'j^
ot Viiginia'g goinir with fc!». *!; ™ """Id not hear
i'^„r,'^s.*- -"« '^the'"™™,^"^" i^8«. with":
siumenje 1 Twice Viivini. ^I ^"' • morninB of
»n<f twice riie m«Je «oSe ft"'""'"?'^ '° ter ,?„/
weil^ and eacapedTotJh."^''^'"'^ tremnlonriy, ...Uve and
kin^'i:'?..'''' "^'^ "»" yo" "re that this ia not-,
"d -Jl five of -em S baO^- The""* "jt" "^t beg^r^^
« did yoor'^ Tut ^e ZZ"V ^ ~'"»<»d, "and
Jfeaphis, anT the Cantoin ^r" *'*?* '» J»»t ii f "„
MemjAie packet off cf^ Gi^ "* ""' *« »poke^°
«" aboar^r She picked^ h^^^T' "^. "»' Chrenc^
'-' i-t «ia«d a „^„nd '4"^^^ ^Z^.Z'.""'
BOOK III
CHAPTER I
INTBODUCING A CAPITALIST
A OOBDOK of blue regimenta surrounded the city at first
from Carondelet to North St. Louis, like an open fwi. The
crowds liked best to go to Compton Heights, where the
tente of the German citizen-soldiers were spread out like
80 many slices of white cake on the green beside the city's
reservoir. Thence the eye stretched across the town,
oatolung the dome of the Court House and the spire of St.
i*?u A'^l ^, ***® ^««*» o" *^e ^i°e of the Pacific rail-
road that led halfway across the state, was another camp.
Ihen another, and another, on the circle of the fan, until
^e nyer was reached to the northward, far above the bend.
Withm w-as a peace that passed understanding, — the peace
of martial law. *^
Without the city, in the great state beyond, an irate
governor had gathered his forces from the east and from
the west. Letters came and went between JeflFerson
Uity and Jefferson Davis, their purport being that the
(Toyernor was to work out his own salvation, for a while
at l^t Young men of St. Louis, struck in a night
by the fever of militarism, arose and went to Glencoe.
rrymg sergeants and commissioned officers, mostly of
hated German extraction, thundered at the door of Colonel
Carvels house, and other houses, there — for Glencoe was
a border town. They searched the place more than
once from garret to cellar, muttered guttural oatlis, and
smeiled of beer and sauerkraut. The haughty appear-
4
f
"The Captain
WAS UIVEN AN A. ujtwci! "
.•W^M
INTRODUCING A CAPITALIST aa9
nil^;^^-^^^^^ riZt:^!;r^^^yr- blind
of many in Glencoe written dow^fi "i?*^!! *^ ^w one
headquartera aa a place toward S^^^ ^» » book at
men strayed. Q6odB^^^n^ u *?® ^^^ o^ *he younj?
again thJt the y^'^t Xd*^ ^''"^^^djn tinie anS
W commandlnroffiTera ^i^"•^*"^ «^"«' «»<i »^-
and implied that leauty hVhSl ifT*^^ -ubaltemm
of war were held over tSe adviJ.n"* "r^** ^^«"n«»2
Carvel's house at GlmcLhu, ^^'^'^y ""^ »e»""g Mr.
~iny night in June a ca^±' P^"?! ""^ ^^^^°» ""'^1 one
drive and swuni? into a S^ll f *^° "^° "P^^-ed up the
Captein took of hi^cavafrr^lT;^ ^*»"««- The
door, more gently than S^^'S i"*^^ .^'^"^ked at the
so Jaokson wid. The cSn w^^ ^''«'"'* ^'^ ^ome.
formal than one with the q^ueeS of P?,7^" *" *??^«"«« '"O'o
Miss Carvel was infinitely^Zre hauS^K^^"^.^ H^« *»««»•
Was not the Captain hired fn 5^^*? *^*" ^e*" Majesty.
Indeed, he thougEri^ as he fnn. ''/i,'^^*^"^^"^ ««rvice ?
and he felt like the W^of^nrr^'^T ^^^'J* "^« '^«»«e^
.'i^i ?^' «' looked uX a 4T'"h "^ ^' T"«^ «*
the field, of the mire hL-Nf • . "^ was a beast of
if he had occasion to' paSTer^Te? '^''^"^ ^'°™ ^'^
been defiled by his touch^ And v«? f v. ^ n'"'' "^-^"^^ bave
amell of beer,^nor of siuerkr^„7. ^^^/J? Captain ^'^ ««*
languaffe. He did hi7du^^^i °°J. "^'^ ^® «^ear in any
He pulfed a man (aged sevJn&'H'f ^* **"* ^« ^»d it^
hoop skirt in a littlf cl(^f "^7i "^"^ ^'^ "«der a great
refused it« duty when^nan^H '' "T ^5^ * pistol that
Th« was little ^S;:n::r'^^^^^^ face,
military academy. ••-ucrwooa, just home from a
firearm. And so after a «Hff i f ^ T°® ^'^^^ed to be a
r ;♦:
ff
5
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MICROCOPY RfSOUITION TIST CHART
(ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2)
1.0
■ 43
■* 14.0
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■ UK
12.2
1.4
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2.0
1.8
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A APPLIED IIVMGE Inc
t6S3 East Moin Stmt
Rochester, New York t4609 USA
(716) ♦«2 - 0300 - Phooe
(716) 288 -5989 -Fox
340
THE CRISIS
11
to come back, gaunt and worn and tattered, among the
grim cargoes that were landed by the thousands and tens
of thousands on the levee. And they took them (oh, the
pity of it !) they took them to Mr. Lynch's slave pen,
turned into a Union prison of detention, where their
fathers and grandfathers had been wont to send their dis-
orderly and insubordinate niggers. They were packed
away, as the miserable slaves had been, to taste something
of the bitterness of the negro's lot. So came Bert Russell
to welter in a low room whose walls gave out the stench
of years. How you cooked for them, and schemed for
them, and cried for them, you devoted women of the
South I You spent the long hot summer in town, and
every day you went with your baskets to Gratiot Street,
where the infected old house stands, until — until one
morning a lady walked out past the guard, and down the
street. She was civilly detained at the corner, because she
wore army boots. After that permits were issued. If you
were a young lady of the proper principles in those days,
you climbed a steep pair of stairs in the heat, and stood in
line until it became your turn to be catechised by an indif-
ferent young officer in blue who sat behind a table and
smoked a horrid cigar. He had little time to be courteous.
He was not to be dazzled by a bright gown or a pretty
face ; he was indifferent to a smile which would have won
a savage. His duty was to look down into your heart,
and extract therefrom the nefarious scheme you had made
to set free the man you loved ere he could be i>ent north
to Alton or Columbus. My dear, you wish to rescue him,
to disguise him, send him south by way of Colonel Carvel's
house at Glencoe. Then he will be killed. At least, he
will have died for the South.
First politics, and then war, and then more politics, in
this our country. Your masterful politician obtains a
regiment, and goes to war, sword in hand. He fights
well, but he is still the politician. It was not a case
merely of fighting for the Union, but first of getting per-
mission to fight. Camp Jackson taken, and the prisoners
exchanged south. Captain Lyon, who moved like a whirl-
INTRODUCING A CAPITALIST
341
ttuit tiir,L'!'' ^tTj^^^^^^^ '-'' -" ^^^^^ -
into between the Governor and tSfolTrV^^^. ^"^^^^^^
command of the Western Department f "^'^^ ^^^*^^ ^"
other. A trick for the Rebel? H V *"* ""^"P^^* ^^cJ'
paced the Arsenal walks while hp^''-\k°" chafed, and
state. Then two ^PnfL ^ ™'Srht have saved tlie
the next th"nr?hft Wn? 7°*^ *« Washington, and
Lyon, Comman^de o the^Ctt^:"'. ^?^t^^^^ «^»«r«l
Would General iJn^ ^^epartment of the West.
Missouri? Yes, the &ener.T'' T/'^- '^^ ^^^^^nor of
safe-conduct into St Loufs h„rr^i^'T, '^^ Governor a
to the General. His SlWv ' ^^^«"«««y n^n«t come
deigned to go with the Uninn^l'T' ^"^ *^^ ^'^n^^al
House. Conference, five W« ^"^^^^,,*« the Planters'
for the Governor 'back And tv"^'' \«^f«-«onduct
Lyon ended the talk H,« ^ a ^^'^ '^ ^^^ General
by a Confederate cobne?wCt;n^^
lency, deserve to be writ in liT^^^^'l. *"« ^^^^1"
Annals. "^"^ '" Sold on the National
righftlmtVtrttv'L^^^^^ ''''' of Mi3,,,,i the
troops within her Hmits ^or br?na "f'"^ '^."" "«^ ^^^^^^
whenever it pleases -or 'ov^^?^ *'°^P" ^°*« *he state
into, out of, or thr^uSi thr« !. ^'^^^^'l ^* ^*« «^n ^i"
to the state of Missouri' for on. I' ' f'-"' *^^° ^«"««d«
to dictate to my Government ir^' '°'**"* *^^ ^^^ht
unimportant, I would^^7r?Jn '" /°3^ . "tatter, however
every^one in the room^) '4ee vlf /"^^"^^"^ ^" *"^° *«
you, and every min! woman a^nd'^M ^^"V^"^ ^«"' ^^^
and buried." Then tiJ^nW; ?u ??'^^ '"^ ^^^^ «tate, dead
" This means war In an^ hour'n ''r^' ^' '""*^""^^'
ofttehrtt^dTp^hrh^^^^^^^^
room j^ttling his spurs S ctukfug^fs Se' ^"* ^' *^^
itallt'ar wa?l^n^"d^a1 ^^^^d^r^^^^^^^^^^^ ^^om-
the oaks on BloodrMlintfhe^^^^J^^ ^
11 :
Jr^-^i
342
THE CRISIS
this Union, had God spared him, we shall never know.
He saved Missouri, and won respect and love from the
brave men who fought against him.
Those first fierce battles in the state I What prayers
rorje to heaven, and curses sank to hell, when the news of
them came to the city by the river I Flags were made
by loving fingers, and shirts and bandages. Trembling
young ladies of Union sympathies presented colors to
regiments on the Arsenal Green, or at Jefferson Bar-
racks, or at Camp Benton to the northwest near the Fair
Grounds. And then the regiments marched through the
streets with bands playing that march to which the words
of the Battle Hymn were set, and those bright ensigns
snapping at the front ; bright now, and new, and crimson.
But soon to be stained a darker red, and rent into tatters,
and finally brought back and talked over and cried over ;
and tenderly laid above an inscription in a glass case, to
be revered by generations of Americans to come. What
can stir the soul more than the sight of those old flags,
standing in ranks like the veterans they are, whose duty
has been nobly done? The blood of the color-sergeant
is there, black now with age. But where are the tears
of the sad women who stitched the red and the white and
the blue together ?
The regiments marched through the streets and aboard
the boats, and pushed off before a levee of waving hand-
kerchiefs and flags. Then heart-breaking suspense. Later
— much later, black headlines, and grim lists three col-
umns long, — three columns of a blanket sheet I " The
City of Alton has arrived with the following Union dead
and wounded, and the following Confederate wounded
(prisoners)." Why does the type run together?
In a never-ceasing procession they steamed up the
river; those calm boats which had been wont to carry
the white cargoes of Commerce now bearing the red
cargoes of war. And they bore away to new battle-
fields thousands of fresh-faced boys from Wisconsin
and Michigan and Minnesota, gathered at Camp Benton.
Some came back w^ith their color gone and their red
INTRODUCING A CAPITALIST
did
tTt^'lZr' "^^^'^^ ^'^^ «-^-- Othe. came
pany, but his bok avordS tf^T^''* ^'}^^ ^"« «^d com?
ter'8 hand on theJanSS^^^^^^^^ ^^ ^^""^ «i«h-
The^ood German's ,;Vt^^^^^
standing W holdtng'^r bt^^ ^^^t ^^^PP^«' ^^^ -
scarc?be^": Cea'rf ' He'lf V^^Fl ^"^ ^-^ -"Id
already blue ^ rtroons m,f I'^'^^'k *^>^*' ^^^^^^^k^
whistle screaSltKst Ob Wt.h ^"'^"'^ ""* ^^*^ h«»'
old man and the broalsronldir^^^^^ ''''^ '^^^^ *^^ ^«"nt
on the edge of the Tand'ng ^""""^ "'"" '^^' ^^ «^^«
offic^^^SVe^tdgeTt:^^ T^^ !>r^ ^« «-
Back to the silent office wWe T. I^f ^'"''^( *« ^P^^^.
The Judffe closed thp^Il, I , ^^f^""^^ mocked them.
Stephen it S five f 'clockt'^' ^T ^^^^^^^ ^i°^' «nd
not^Whittlesey: but' V^^^^^^ '"^.^s'^' ' H^ J' ^
with a slam, and went to Verandah HaflV. a-u '*'"V'*
on a dusty floor — narrnJ oW i^ ?. *° ^"^^ recruits
who kne/not he first mojfon' 'l*\"^°« ^^ suspenders,
Stephen was an adiutln^li^'lH? S^^' «Jf«^/«-^. Fo;
was left of them ^ *^^ ^'^"^^ Guards -what
regiments BufMr SL^r\^'"'T ""^ "«" Union
no? even a sSdle U Jlef to th. '"'* """Wbute a horse,
-a, secret!, in tle"nTglt ^thttSLT .^tar'
844
THE CRISIS
Mr. Hopper had better use for
sisters to wave at them,
his money.
One scorching afternoon in July Colonel Carvel came
into the office, too hurried to remark the pain in honest
Ephum's face as he watched his master. The sure signs
of a harassed man were on the Colonel. Since May he
had neglected his business affairs for others which he
deemed public, and which were so mysterious that even
Mr. Hopper could not get wind of them. These matters
had taken the Colonel out of town. But now the neces-
sity of a pass made that awkward, and he went no farther
than Glencoe, where he spent an occasional Sunday. To-
day Mr. Hopper rose from his chair when Mr. Carvel
entered, — a most unprecedented action. The Colonel
cleared his throat. Sitting down at his desk, he drummed
upon it uneasily.
" Mr. Hopper ! " he said at length.
Eliphalet crossed the room quickly, and something that
was very near a smile was on his face. He sat down close
to Mr. Carvel's chair with a semi-confidential air, — one
wholly new, had the Colonel given it a thought. He did
not, but began t»; finger some printed slips of paper which
had indorsements on their backs. His fine lips were
tightly closed, as if in pain.
" Mr. Hopper," he said, " these Eastern notes are due
this week, are they not ? "
" Yes, sir."
The Colonel glanced up swiftly.
" There is no use mincing matters. Hopper. You know
as well as I that there is no money to pay them," said he,
with a certain pompous attempt at severity which char-
acterized his kind nature. "You have served me well.
You have brought this business up to a modern footing,
and made it as prosperous as any in the town. I am
sorry, sir, that those contemptible Yankees should have
forced us to the use of arms, and cut short many promis-
ing business careers such as yours, sir. But we have to
face the music. We have to suffer for our principles.
These notes cannot be met, Mr. Hopper." And the good
^?- k'^L
INTRODUCING A CAPITALIST
345
h«d sat in the very chr fiM 'b?Mr'' H^'"""« "''«
cariate these notes ca„ fe? "'"' " '^"""^kable ease, " I
of th:';''irVjirrthe'fltr'""'E';TV ''•"- »■"» »»^
tenderly, and held i" Ehphalet picked it up
Wen-t a friend-a friet^^ay'™! ''^^^Z^J-,}
the man He wasC onge/eSi^'''™ r"* t''"^''''
poise, such poise as we in tvl 1 ^ ^- ^"^ ''» ''"d
see in ,eathe? aud mahogany oSc^^^t? r"?"''?'"f'l '»
at him uncomfortably. "* Colonel glared
." i^'l',,**''? "!P tho^ notes myself sir "
of hypocrisy in t' nftt^^^^^^^^ "ot a deal
the part of Samaritan He dj-d no? u^ '^^^ ^""»^P*
Colonel and remind him oAL f ^* ^^'^ "?»« «ie
and friendless, hi had Ln fi^ ''^^' ^ ^^^^^' ^^^^^^e^^
a drove of mules! No Buf h^i!;'?"^ '°*? ^^« «tore by
which he had striven unknown «n ^ ''^' ~~*^^ ^^>^ t^^^^d
years - the day when he woiS i """"^^^""^ ^«^ «« ^^ny
who had ignored and insulted .f,;!^^ "' *^ ^^^^^ ^^ *h««^
When we are thouZless of ^ir ^' T ^^''^'''S ** ^^^t.
with that spark in Hh f 1 ^ ^'''■'^^' ^^ <io not reckon
and burn Ss No ttW O"'"^^ *^^ "^^^^ burst into flame
aught but courteou and kfnJ ?n li?"'".f " ^^^^ been
had been his offence to Eh^Llt who S^' '*'""" '"J^^«
an exultation that made him tremble '^ '''"'' *° ^^^^
J
i-f
HI:
346
THE CRISIS
"What do you mean, sir?" demanded the Colonel,
again.
"I eal'late that I can gather together enough to meet
the notes, Colonel. Just a little friendly transaction."
Here followed an interval of sheer astonishment for
Mr. Carvel.
" You have this money ? " he said at length.
Mr. Hopper nodded.
"And you will take my note for the amount ? "
" Yes, sir."
The Colonel pulled his goatee, and sat back in his chair,
trying to face the new light in which he saw his man-^ger.
He knew well enough that the man was not doing this
out of charity, or even gratitude. He reviewed his whole
career, from that first morning when he had carried bales
to the shipping room, to his replacement of Mr. Hood, and
there was nothing with which to accuse him. He remem-
bered the warnings of Captain Lige and Virginia. He
could not in honor ask a cent from the Captain now. He
would not ask his sister-in-law, Mrs. Colfax, to let him
touch the money he had so ably invested for her ; that little
which Virginia's mother had left the girl was sacred.
Night after night Mr. Carvel had lain awake with the
agony of those Eastern debts. Not to pay was to tarnish
the name of a Southern gentleman. He could not sell
the business. His house would bring nothing in these
times. He rose and began to pace the floor, tugging at
his chin. Twice he paused to stare at Mr. Hopper, who sat
calmly on, and the third time stopped abruptly before him
" See here," he cried. " Where the devil did you get
this money, sir ? "
Mr. Hopper did not ris-i.
"I haven't been extravagant. Colonel, since I've worked
for you," he said. " It don't cost me much to live. I've
been fortunate in investments."
The furrows in the Colonel's brow deepened.
" You offer to lend me five times more than I have ever
paid you, Mr. Hopper. Tell me how you have made
this money before I accept it."
INTEODUCING A CAPITALIST ^7
h»d tt T TSid"" f""^ '? !"-' "-at eye sinee l.e
to his desk, and drew a C ,W „'/ "'"'• , ""' '«' """t
hole. " * "■"*. sheet of paper from s pigeon-
tion I ain't forcing you to takp%^^ " '^^"^ '"«P««-
flared up, all at once.^ ^^a likelol. .»""?">' «'^' he
Mr. Carvel was disarmed h! 7 *^'^ business."
desk, and none save God knew thr^^ unsteadily to his
received that day. To rescnp « ^^ock that his pride
untarnished since he had brm,cfhrr- ""^^"^ ^^^ «tood
drew forth some blank notes S fin '?^", ^^' ^^°''^^' be
before he signed them he spoke -!'^ '^'^"^ «"*• ^^^
" And°^ a^bUnetiryoTmusf in"^^^^^^^ -^ ^^
will not legally hold U ;. "lUst know that these notes
abolished, \nd aU tr J!„ V"'^'"*'f^ ^^^^- The courts are
invalid." ""^^ transactions here in St. Louis are
Eliphalet was about to speak.
have the money and int?re;t or v ""' "^'^ ^^^^' ^^^ «h«ll
this business. "l need notSll vJ, • ''!""'>'' ^^^^^ i«
sacred, and binding forevpr nt ^ "' ^'''\ ^^""^ "^Y word is
" I'm not afraid rnJnlf y^" "'^ *"^ "^^"6."
a feeble attempt It g^C 'Te^'' ""'' "^^P^' -^h
last. ^ geniality. He was, m truth, awed at
w'-^yoS wer^'iTh^rr;' *"» Colonel, with equal
place." He satTowrand Z^^'' ^T '■""■'<• 'e»™ th U
will not be lone befnr. '„ 5 "^""'"""ed more calmly .- « u
Louis, and the^S Sorrnment^T ■?''^"''«» '»"> «
forward. "Do you reckon w. "'';'",*?• "e leaned
T57ri'*«^'M^HoppeT''''" ^°'^ "■' ■""'"^'^
faiS:' Andlf^lU^^t h'' '""l"* ">^ Colonel's simple
would have ended here ""P" *""* '''^"^ »• W" hSy
"Leave that to me, dolonel." he said soberly
'r;=;
i
; .i r ' .. i
348
THE CRISIS
Then came the reaction. Tlie g(K>d (Jolonul sighed as
he Higned away that business which had been an honor
to the city where it was founded. I thank heaven that
we arenot concerned with the details of their talk that
day. Why should we wish to know the rate of interest
on those notes, or the time ? It was war-time.
Mr. Hopper filled out his check, and presently departed.
It was the signal for the little force which remaiVed to
leave. Outside, in the store, Ephum paced uneasily, won-
dering why his master did not come out. Preseritly he
crept to the door of the office, pushed it open, and beheld
Mr Carvel with his head bowed down in his hands.
" Marse Comyn I " he cried, " Marse Comyn I "
il'f Colonel looked up. His face was haggard.
« Marse Comyn, you know what I done promise young
Miss long time ago, befo' — befo' she done left us '^ "
" Yes, Ephum."
He saw the faithful old negro but dimly. Faintly he
heard the pleadmg voice. ^
"Marse Comyn, won' you give Ephum a pass down
river, ter fotch Cap'n Lige?" *
frnirfflliT*"/^'"^ *¥ F"^**^^^' ^^^^^^ "^ ^^d a letter
from the Captain yesterday. He is at Cairo. His boat
18 a t ederal transport, and he is in Yankee pay "
CanV?^"^.*?^ 5 \^P forward, app-aiingly. " But de
Cap n 8 yo friend, Marse Comyn. He ain't never fo'get
Mm ^8°uh "''''^ ""^^ ^*'°'^°- "^ *""'* ^^ ^^
"And I am the Captain's friend, Ephum," answered the
^Iw'^T' l^- V " ^V^ ^^" "«* ^^ ^id from any man
employed by the Yankee Government. No ~ not from my
own brother, who is in a Pennsylvania regiment."
Jiphum shuffled out, and his heart was lead as he closed
the store that night.
.„^'^;?*'PP®''l'*f Warded a Fifth Streetcar, which jangles
on with many halts until it comes to Bremen, a German
STrotrf '''i *^«nT'^ "^ *^« ""^'y- At Bremen great
droves of mules hU the street, and crowd the entrances of
INTROnrnTOO A CAPTTALTST
349
the sale stables there WK.v
Bhots Gentlemen with th^ bellow ''*?^'"^ ^'^« Pi«tol
United States Army are pLLwTn ^'^^^'^ «^ the
drivers and the owners anS2n^-'° *?*^ ^'" amonir the
.^als. ^ herd bZS'from thf^ '^' ^"ghtenecf ani!
like a V lirlwind down the^treet T • r'''" ^"^ ^« ^"ven
House. They are going to boar,' ^J^ ^'"^ ^^ ^^^ ^^'*'^«*
port- to die on thi batUefields of K^ ,^T«'"n^ent trans-
Mr. Hopper alights from /}?« Kentucky and Missouri
stands for a while^on a corner / ^^*^,°TP^«^«»«y- He
surveying the busy scene unnn?^^'?'* t^^ ^^* ^""ding!
not a prophecy -Ithlt a "''"^V'^ed. Mules I Was it
Carvers store? ^*^ ^'^^« ^^'«1^ «ent him into M,.
a sm^^'ejlLTCo^t'of oTofTh^ ^'^'^^ '""^^^^h- «nd
our fnendf. ^"® ^^ *lie offices, and perceives
"Howdy, Mr. Hopper ? " savs h^
his English here. ^®- ^^ « less careful of
"mart unifori, whoT^"? afr r"'/",""^ "«n '»"
He oould not have bermo« t^f.^^"^^} ™PO'tance.
h« face and manners wet^ZJ^ 1^°, "S^ '^'"'J'' and
field service was lackino. 1 i.^ ? ? '''"■'^- The tan of
under the eyes ^ "" ^ ''^^^' «nd he was bLk
<-K'a^^,"rrste'''"'rT "^«'' -»' ^^-
ised. Not a lump on "em r . "'*"" » '"' ■« eve» I
on them there at one^eigh^y a hJaS"?' "T"' '=^'"«<» """l"
Mr. Ford said thU »SJ;^ ? "' ' "ekon-
such a sober face tL the r?/" "' "' conviction and
same time he elan,..?^ Captain smUed. And at ti,Z
buttons on hisTest "" °*"°™'y "' '^e new ifne ol
th/stiS"e!^LdT""'"'"^*'°-» » Newfoundland dog by
•• Wal, I jest recicon," asserted Mr. Ford, with a loud
350
THE CRISIS
laugh. "Cap'ri Wentworth, al' w me to make vou
The Captain squeezed Mr. Hopper's hand with fervor.
fou interested in mules, Mr. Hopper?" asked tliu
militarv man.
" ' /Jon'fc cal'late to be," said Mr. Hopper. Let us
teli ^-.r^'"'''***^ ^*« "°* ^««" presented a3 being
wholly without a sense of humor. He grinned as he
lookea upon this lamb in the uniform of Mars, and added'
hav^a^drinkt"^^^ ^**""'^'' ^ ^"'^- ^*P'"' '" 3^«"
" And a segar," added Mr. Ford.
lookfn*^ff°"^r "^r/^^. ^^P^^°- "I^*« d-d tiresome
lookin at mules all day in the sun."
«TS^^''R ^'- ^T" *>* ^^« '"^^^"^ ^«rk does not
extend to Bremen, that the good man's charity keeps him
at the improvised hospital down town. Mr. Hop^r has
resigned the superintendency of his Sunday SchoS£ it is
triw, but he is still a pillar of the church.
.f^t^! r'^S? ^^^^'^ ^^?^, *»*^^^ *^« bar, and listens to
stones by Mr. Ford, which it behooves no church mem-
bers to hear. He smokes Mr. Hopper's cigar and drinks
his whiskey. And Eliphalet understands ^that the gld
Lord put some foois into the world in order to give the
smart people a chance to practise their talente. Mr.
w^f^^'^^f^ "^*^"''.^^??'' '°*°^^«' ^""^ be "s«« tiie spittoon
wu ireedom in this atmosphere.
When at length the Captain has marched out, with a
conscious but manly air, ivfr. Hopper turns to Ford -
h.^ir.Tt » "'' ^'T '° presenting them vouchers at
headquarters," sa^s he. " Money la worth something
f T. V . *^®'® ^ grumbling about this Department in
the Eastern papers. If we have an mvestigation, we'll
whistle. How much to-day ? "
nonJJ?/R thousand," says Mr. Ford. He tosses off a
pony of Bourbon, but his face is not a delight to look upon.
Hopper, you'll be a d—d rich man some day."
"I cal'late to." "^
tal
INTttODUCNO A rAP.TALIST .,,,
'... I »"? go^t7<fur;:r'oen1."''* ^'^ ' "-'' sot no ca,,i.
" You LTm' T 5^ " ^y '"it you ? ••
I pre«iime Ukely," said Mr u ''"*''''« ' "
you, ..other^U have^i Z Itt "T 'irX." ^'""'
CHAPTER II
NEWS FROM CLARENCE
*1?^ epithet arigtocrat may become odious anr! faf«i
thetine'^^i: t ^^W^ -.^^ was ^Te bank^*:
ful times* ^ir r ^f""^'^^ ^'"^^^^ • These are fear-
8tc:>DaT'of K^'*'''^' °^ ^'f population, by the sudden
WiSi^ . business, are thrown out of emplovment
When gaunt famme intrudes upon their househowTt i«
but natural that they should incfuire the caZ HiLr
began the French Revolution." hunger
in ^If^'^'l?^'^ ""^^ ""^^ ^^^ editorial, beca^'se it appeared
ThTf^'u . "^^^^^ ^^ ^<^^*une were turning raoidlv
that first hot summer of the war time T Pf n^L Vi? i^
ful that our flesh and blood Tre^LTpable of th^ftv^of
the guillotine. But when we think ca?mly of thLe Zvl
Do Tu tS tr^"' ^ 'i"V^ P^*^ ^- ^^' --^eraTs^
insfrustS^^ SXTlet? ^^^"^ «^^^^^ -^^^ -P^ -
. " Virginia, child, ' said Mrs. Colfax, peevishly one morn
mg as they sat at breakfast, "wh^ do youC^^t Tn"
wearmg that old gown ? It has gotten on my n^ves mv
u there are no men here to dress for "
not ^r;?t fw'T' ^"""i '"'''^ °«* ^y «"ch things. I do
t S^^ *^* ^ «^er dressed to please men."
lut, tut, my dear, we all do. I did, even after T
you know that Prince Napoleon was actually coming
_>_-■*<'*.■ ?«■;
NEWS FROM CLARENCE
the giri. .. I do no??eed heZ'wtr'''n^'"''^" """"■^d
you intend to pay for them iZT °"'' "»« ""e money
purpose." " ' **"""• ""d I can use it for a better
in the same b.Sfh '^^h.'J^ J"Pf"°"'j' •"'"■y-" And
,. Virginia lowered her yoke ° H J°" ^° ""^ " ? "
lines to-morrow ni^ht i Yl i j """ges goes through the
"Pshaw I" exclaimea her aunf «t
him. How do you W tha? hi' n '"^'"^^ °o* *™8t
Dutch pickets to PrWs^mv? ^ ^^* *^'«»&h the
tared last week, and that ^J^ i .T^'^V S^"*^^^' cap!
to Jack BrinsmWe puwL^^n^1t °^^ ^"^ «"«««»^«
aughed at the recoLct on! and ^^if'/^^^*^'' She
laugh too. "Puss hasn't hp^n ^^""Sjnia was fain to
hope that will cure hT of ^vin^'^'^u^ "'"^^ ^i'^ce. I
people." ® ''^^ °* «ay"»g what she thinks of
"It won't," said Virginia.
from teteZd'SSenr ma^/ej^^^ ^T\''^^ ^-^ees
head of a regiment," Mrs CoSafw? /°*^ *^" "^^^ ^^ the
long now." ^ ^' ^**^^*^ went on. « it won't be
J^^inia's eyes flashed.
rememVrXttt^^^^^ And don't vou
need the bare neceSkTof lif^lu^^^^.p^^^^^/ /Ly
of Pr..e;s men have no arms atV'" ^'"'^°- ^"^ ^^^^
"Jackson," said Mrs. Colfax «k.:
Is there any news tonlay ? » ' ^""^ ™^ » newspaper.
i If
I ^;
354
THE CRISIS
!l •
1
fKof^?'" *T^®'*?'l ^^'^"»»' quickly. "All we know m
Mrs. Colfax buret into tears.
» Oh, Jinny," she cried, " how can you be so cruel I "
«l,3^ ™7, ?"'!,'""» * """'• toll and lean, but wUh the
room witE th.'p ^ T "'.l^'T*- <»""' i»to the s tting!
room with the Colonel and handed a letter to Mni CmLz
""j ffereol n " -Prl '"'» Virginia's ha^d l"i,er! ta^
ffown ?L ?r '■""''PPe. «>"» »he thrust it in he?
fh.TK~Jj giri was on fire as he whispered in her cm
that he had seen Clarence, and that he was well In t!^
^ys an answer might be left at Mr. Ru™l7houJ But
t«T«v^. """'"' "■'"' '"' '"'"*• ■« «>« y-k^scouu
a„H l^;;??'*' l"''^"''' i^ P"™" himself a man. Giorv
^erhiLTnl''t'£.t,td"Kt'ai'r£S
And how by a miracle the moon hal risen W^^ ^l
great Memphis packet bore dorutn h m'he M^bet
anH i?""!,^^" ^*'^ *"^ rescued and mide^ch of
and set ashore at the next landing for fflnr KoT * • '
would get into trouble. In the mtnS/ hJ had wSked
Tr^ ^^^/'.^'^V'^' first providing himself^with butte^ute
and rawhide boots and a bowie-knife. VirginL would
tTs^gut" ""^"'"' ^^^ '"^-^ -P*-- ofTagoZt
ffrelt'diffic^SLI^fr^"^^^^ for Clarence, and written under
great difliculties from date to date. For nearlv a mrrrTfil
he had tramped over mountains and across r?v^ boZm«
waiting for news of an organized force of relte"^^^^^^^
NEWS PROM CLARENCE 355
i^^r on ,f:ipc:: rj ^r "*^^° ^ -^-» and
creased the^wift G^conad^^r '^ ^?\ »* Wh he
settlers because of itTbrwU^J'^^a^^^ by the Irench
the Pacific railroad had^e^n C^^ where the bridge of
orders. Then he learned that fh"^ ^?. *^" Governor's
steamed up the Missouri and had tit ''"^'""fi^ ^^0° had
ferson City without a blow .n^ *w Possession of Jef-
force had /ought and W Ti ?. "^ *^**^ *^e ragged re4l
undaunted, hfpushed totinT'""^"- ^««t!ore but
yA'^e^^^^^^^ With two other
together, until one day some roLw ^ ' ^^^^ ^^^elled
leaped out of a bunch of wHlows^n H™k™.^*^ «^«tg«°«
tr *'(?'*"^ «1^ three for Union soL a^"^"'.' ^^ * <^^«ek
when iMr. Clarence tried to exn£ .V ^^^ ^^^y ^^"ghed
since been the dapper captein of tK t^l ^^ ^'^^ '^o* W
His Excellency; the Governor nf m^*^ I>ragoons. ^
edged bv all Jjd SoS„ers^ litr"""/«« *«^«wl.
Mr. Col/axanlthe tvvo otW w^rl r''\^*"fi^^«d when
His Excellency sat in a cLh7n ^ ^''''''f^^ ^f«re him.
which had causidthelgsStarrhr^^^^^ by a camp
" Colfax I » cried the Goy^nor « a^ ^n 7/'>^ «^a°»e-
Louis in butternuts and rawh7dX-ots"^ Colfax of St.
tion C^^^^^^^^
The Governor laughed once mor'e ""'" ^'^^^ ''•"
notwhS'^^'/iT.^---' ^ -it oi clothes I You know
^ ^ry'cShSLS^^^^^^^^^ St. Louis here."
had once been George. Now h^^ '"'T^' ^ther what
with a huge blond Sard, and a bow^ S -^^ frontiersman
trousers in place of a sword J?, "^"'^^ '*."*'^ ^^to his
captain of dragoons • tZr^ ^ecogmzed his youn^
ence slept that^^gh't in th^cabT ^Fh'^^^*'^' «°^ cSS?
given a hor.se, an! a brightt^w dl'^Shle^^^a^e!
' ■ f ;
:r:>I
356
THE CRISIS
ernors soldiers had taken from the Dutch at Cole Pamr*
on the way south. And presently they made a Lc?S?
with three thousand more who were th^e^lmaL^ TM«
and conestogas and carrvils and S^°.? t*? "P?" ^"Sons
him ready when we march into St^ LoiS/' ' *°^ ^""^
"CowSKINPKAlaiB.OthJoly.
irtjng^shed Mn«eU in the flghl' We"oa'JS'4''dSStc^^"^
hir^a^csa? tT^L^ sta r e*^atr a-i^
who was used to linen sheets and eider downTrwithont
fnT.^^''^"^^' or shelter; who was usedtotKelt uMe
m the state, was reduced to husks
"But, Aunt Lillian," cried Virginia, "he is fighting for
l^WS FROM CLAREKCE
would not be orea^edZn^L^Z'''^ <^-J}^M::L^II
though wretched because h«ii,1T*^' "« was ^appv
the life he had lonSdTor aJT^^ ."°*.^« ^er. It^^^^'
he was nroving his usefulnest n^h'^"''^ iT^* PathetiTh
longer tte mere idler whtlL'h^S'chTdrn. ""^ "" ^
oJpn"^;otrcomToro^/r^^^ «« .--^ ^-rs ago that
wish you could see us fellZ ^rL^^^ ^?^« ^ ^^^^ ? How i
ou?h.^ «l«i^ for canister, iVmSin'.ri'.5^^^*-«°"^d«,a^
Sll &u?v"' candlesticks ^Z^tt "* ^^^^* ^^^^^
vL- P '^P y*''^' courage. I ran olo ' ^ l^°°w that you
hear you praying for us?' '^"^ '"* ^^^ «ewing for us, i IZ
alwaynVte8tSV''HeT''#n°'* ^'*™^^ ^ «ew. She had
weeks after she began sTlT^'t ^^^^^^ »»d sore
dages nor her shirts nor hJ^ u *? '®1**« that her ban
W. Those havlTs,t^thsS
tropic sun, which were m^de in J?^"^ *^f l^«a*^ of the
Union women that first summer of th''"'*'^'^ by devoted
a? nightcaps by the sold?eT " W^ T''S ^ "<^i«"led
diers have them, too?" ^d Vir«S '^^^i^ot ^^ sol-
They were never so happy aswK ^ *^^ ^""^^ S^rh.
the arrival of the Army^&l.^^^tfoT^^K?".*^^"^ «^^i°«t
The long, lone dava nf V ^ j °"' ^l^^ch nfc camp
to cheer th^oseffmSslpa^td^^^^^ -S
a great army. Clarence mShtdL *5''' ^^*" «"«« by
haps a year -pass without nfws.^nlp'"'^,,* nionth-per-
a prisoner to St. Louis HnZ v--^- ^® ^^^^ brought
because the Union lists Jf ^^Jf^'''^''''''^ Maude
her tidings of her brother TW ^^ ^o«nded would give
eied the many Union famm«?' V'^^^ H«^ «be Sv!
wei^ at the front, tCpSger''^''" ''""^ ^^ brother
wei. at th-rJni^r pS^^-^- -« -d br^tS
Wewere speaking oFtheXneh Revolution, When,
as
li'
,'
, ■
'
;> ,
!■'
1
i
'^^rt
1 11-- ,
358
THE CRISIS
never ran hiah^r ""X, "*'"®- J^eelmgs in eftch instance
women were thrown into prisonf it H/ue Y«f -.
would march swiftly into a street anSltop Lfore ato^
bell Of fl?r '^ ^?f excitement, Eugenie Renault ran^the
^n up the stos to v""'""^. '"" ^^''^^ astounded /ack!
K^open Virgmia's room, the door of which she
k„ i^^j ^1 , some one told the provost marahAl Wo
ha^^ad the house surrounded, and tL fCi;tave t» sS^
NEWS FROM CLARENCE
m
« Ti!* *^»*^® ^"^ fi^^^®8 out ? "
each Z' ofTh'e faS.f iT^'-Ce" ^T "' «-• " «■»
ribbona, before th^S"°Xn' '^'^ "» "<• »»d "h ie
will arrest you." ^**° ^-ugeme, aghast. "They
they would I " ^ ^*^ fnghtened. « How I wish
Her friend's fcearing C must ^T ?"'*?' "C^^ld by
^as young, and thft her feeTn * w« ''"^' *'** ^^'g^nia
g^at-grandmotheraexperiencid^K^'t *&** *° those our
York. It was as if sheTrbee„ wl '. "*^'5 ^'^** ^^^
white of the South. Elderlv Z^ ^ "^f *' *^e red and
J^ion paused in their hot'^fS^^^irktofJ^^^^ P^"
tion,--8ome sadly, as Mr Brinc«,^ to smile in admim-
found an excuse ti r^race theTsZ/. JT^ gentlemen
Virginia walked on air, and^w n^^fnl^'S? °^ *^«- B»t
fierce an^er and exaltation She dte /^^ ^^ ^^^^^^
eyes as Tow us the citizen sen^l?. ? "^^'^rn to drop her
Puss RusseU's house Cth^eXl*""* ^"^ ^^ ^«>°t of
aU); she did not so mS « Xclat .?^^ ^^°'*"' ^^^^
standmg on the comer, wh^cf uld Lf ^- Z'"""^* P^oP^e
delight. The citizen LeT^eanronlv ?f * ?urmur of
move to arrest the you^gf^ in ii^/";,^^\.»°d made no
Piws mng open the^blinianJwavllt her *"• ^'' ^'"^
I suppose it's because Mr. 17^^^^, ,,, ,,, ,, ^^^,
r:
i'H
; f|
■n
360
THE CBISIS
Virginia, digconsolatelv. »♦ Opnio !«♦» . ,
ters, and show thia Yankee Gen«r:i v - ^^'^ *^ headquar-
not afraid of him " °^'^'*^ Fremont that we are
thif pSt!;r ' sTe ter^^ ^.^« ^^^^ ^^^°- of
mansion of brick with a «?nn? / 1^ '*'" «^"^«» » We
wide, with an daboTate co^o! ^"T^^/^H^ *«» and very
both tall and brSra^d a hf-h^^ P^ate-glass windowi^
stone porches caoD^d hv «l»>^^^ basement. Two stately
front fnd on tSe^Sde. ^The Jh^^" '^^''^' ^^°^« ^' ^^
proportional. In sSort, the hou^K tZf'T. *"^
many wealthy gentlemen in tht middle nfY^ ^"^^^ '^^
which has best stood the test of tfme th«' T^^^'
which, if repeated to^av wo.;m ^^^\—ine only type
tectural edncatSn wS' we ire 'V'"^^ with the Whi!
yard well above the Dav«J!nf '«°e»ving. A spacious
a waU of dresl^d stoni - ^^founds it, sustained by
whole expS we^ltr ^^f ^^ ^?.^''«'» ^^^^e. The
Alas, tLS^rit^^ .^^^^^^^^^ conservatism.
Western states should Tien Jlu ^^bjack mud of our
of these houses out of themfT^'^^ ^"^^'^ *^« o^^ers
almost buried m's^t emD^; J^\%T °*^^ blackened,
ers. Descendant^^f the ol Jfa^ir^^'*""*"^^^ ^y board-
way to business or to the ?Wr« vl^^ J^^°» ^^ *beir
of those who owned them S!! ?f Ti*^ * '^S^^' The sons
ward again, u^tTrn^X'^;: s' x mlTr*^^ ^^ "^«*-
On that summer eveni^^fJ! ®® ^'"^^ *be river.
giniaandEugenTe came?8i&^t^^^^^^ ^^^'^ ^^r-
great animation was Wore fhL t S?"^' * ""^°^ ^^
the commanding genes'^ nn^r* ^ ^*^^ "^^ "^^ o^er
bad just returnfdfrom Pnr?^^ j?°*^ circumstance. He
stance and the mSy JeTwed^/^^^ "?^ ^^^«'^"^-
erars body-gua^wKoTS^e r^^ e^^ £
NEWS PKOM CLAEENCE
of the Hungarian caotain v-^- ■ "'"'» militarv ev«
ing uniforafs, re8Dlen,& • Yf^'"'* ga^ed at the^ul.
711-fed ho.^r.rnd sca,d/„V^,' '""• ■"«• at the skfk .nd
of the half-ataWed Sit ?f t?"..""'"* "« "'« thought
buramg prairies. JuVt thL f ^<'""«'™ Patriots on the
vaM'"' of^?f "* fro™ the'Hrgat? Th"""" T'^^ '"
Std^!!:vrr:.rh-H.f«^^^^^^^^^
charger was pawing the autt^r a ^u ''"''^' ^here his
stirrup, the eve nf th e"^^®^- As he put foof f« lu
a?ain to be. lor pUt,„f,'^' ■»»» (once'^SI.uS 'nJ
"^thSf r? ^old'7-."-'^'- ««» a". Oh, I
young officer with a & ^SK ^^ Prepared to slay the
throat and choking him t; th« • ^1* "^« %i«g *^t ht
How dare he marfh SdauVt.^ ?'°^'-''^^ *>^ that smile
me, she said passionately to V..- ■ ^""^^ ^^ will arrest
But hush ! he was speakinr « Yo^J ^^"^'*^ *^ q"«"-"
Wo those were not the wor^'« „„ V^ ^^ prisoners " ?
What was left for them af fo. *i, .
It was not precipitate ^}:tlt^^.*H save a retreat? But
-- a dignit, aSd ^^V^^J^^. ^^ Ih* l^Hl
'? /
«-^-=^-
802
THE CRISI8
the body-guard to one aide. And there she stood hauffh-
tily until the guard and the General had thundered awty.
A crowd of black-coated civilians, and quartermasters
and other officers m uniform, poured out of the basement
of the house into the yard. One civilian, a youngish man
a little mclmed to stoutness, stopped at the gate, stared,
then thrust some papers in his pocket and hurried down
* J- ^*'''®®^- it"*®® ^^"^^^ **»«»ce he appeared abreast
of Miss Carvel. More remarkable still, he lifted his hat
clear of his head. Virginia drew back. Mr. Hopper,
with his newly acquired equanimity and poise, startled
"May I have the pleasure," said that gentleman, "of
accompanying you home ? "
Eu^nie giggled. Virginia was more annoyed than she
" You must not come out of your way," she said. Then
she added : "I am sure you must go back to the store.
it IS only SIX o'clock."
Had Virginia but known, this occasional tartness in
her speech gave Eliphalet an infinite delight, even while
It hurt him. His was a nature which liked to gloat over
a goal on the horizon. He cared not a whit for sweet
girls ; they cloyed. But a real lady was something to
attain. He had revised his vocabulary for just such an
occasion, and thrown out some of the vernacular.
" Business is not so pressing nowadays. Miss Carvel,"
he answered, with a shade of meaning.
"Then existence must be rather heavy for you," she
said. She made no attempt to introduce him to Eugenie.
" If we should have any more victories like Bull Run
prospenty will come back with a rush," said the son of
Massachusetts. "Southern Confederacy, with Missouri
one of Its stars — industrial development of the South —
fortunes in cotton."
Virginia turned quickly. "Oh, how dare you?" she
cned. " How dare you speak flippantly of such things ? "
His suavity was far from overthrown.
•'Flippantly, Miss Carvel?" said he. "I assure you
NEWS FROM CLARENCE 363
that I want to see the South win " Wh»t u vi
know was that words «.U«™ « • "'**' "® *^*** ""^
your father, Li wi.h?„i„r1,uVu„ty ?^"" ""* '"'
pe«0„ wholly uiSy of ^ott " '""■'"" '^»"'««'- •
ment Virginia uSI^ «tlTh.X^' ""h'^ "TT'? "^K"
covered halfX bl«k Wh^ !t S""?*^ "^'^'J' ''« ''«'
ohiidiiiThrei?? w£^he'kiw%z ?•"'' rr' ■"."
prey, and hf ^eanT^ol to C'one tMe'oT'lf • '" "«•"«?'
i-r::
[ ' 'f
-^
■
1
:
m
THE CRISIS
ir
Colonel Carvel wMchhi?^.? rehearsed the «cone with
befopp aZaI.' "*^ actuttUy taken place a week
manner for th?- ?^.''°''' *'*^ ^« P'^P^^'^^ IWs^^^ira^d
The words he HrS . r«« ?^ ^^^"^ *" ^^^ company.
m Lynch s slave pen by to-morrow n\„ht itr i ? i »
uoaoea.; 'And then we went — Euj?enifl anH T f« 1,^1
q.«rt»rj^ just to see what the Yank^ruld do' " ''"'■
«.^J''t.'k"''et^'ho;;ev'^t '»!'«>''»<' •8"™- "^»»
brave, and to stand by yZ^clU"^ ^^F.^^^ *t H
thing" aaid he, etrokijg^he go™!'..thU Jrt'„fiv °'
doesn't help the South, mv deafand J. J ?' **'"'«'
^u ^ ?° *^^ °° *°y ™ore trips."
The Colonel shook his head sadly.
pJLrdutit-&y'l^^^ There are duties, my dear,
NEWS FROM CLARENCE
36ff
who wJ^tn'^taY^^ Mr. Hop,.r.
checked himself ab3;UE,i^iV*!? u^^^ «te|«/*He
"Howdy, ColonelT VaJd ^ *^'* P""*^'^ ^^ »»>« hat.
Shy^^SToTerbTa^ptrti^^^^^ ^ ^^« intruder.
Btort down the stVaryearaed * ^»f '*''if*^ ^''' ^"^h^*"
of him -to warn him y^*™!?i^,*^^°\he««lf in front
Then she heard the ColoLirvmvl ^' ^^^ ^"^^ ^ot what.
aa ever. And yet it broke TlStu'^'^T '^"^ ^ "d'y
visitor. ^ . '^'**® * "ttle as he greeted his
with your daughter." *^^ ^^^^^^^ «^ talking home
Ga]:;j^t/^,ij:C^^^^ 5"^ "P the stairs.
as though he ^ightXl herX're"' T^''' ^^« ^^'
had all at once become a terror Sh^^K u "^" « ^^^e
louncre and buried her faw^n h«r K ^"^"^ ^®"«^^ «» the
still leering at her withTn«» her hands, and she saw it
grew calmfr ; risTnJ, sLVuron'^.!;^^? Presently^he
wardrobe, and weTdown^theTtat fr'^' °/ ^''^^"^'Y
dation new to her Sh« K a ^l *" »n a strange treni-
before. She he^'rkened o^erTh? W °. ^° '^ '^ » ^^^
Mra. Colfax ignoid h m as coZf *??^ ^''H'J^ him that
been vacant. He glanced at t^K/ "" ^^ ^'' '^^^' had
for he was tasting the swlf^.f • . ^ ^'n^®' ^^^ ' oiled,
who entertained Kre?ent^^^^^^^ /t was V .-ginia
what it cost her. EUpE hfm««if ^ °ever guessed
change of manner, andToattd o^r /w Y^^ ** her
occupied.^ .L JetSl^n: reo^.^be^i p£
. i
II ^fJ
i •f'M
366
THE CRISIS
1^
to a guest. He oflFered Mr. Hopper a cigar with the same
air that he would have ffiven it to a governor.
" Thank'ee, Colonel, I don't smoke," he said, wavhig the
box away. °
Mrs. Colfax flung herself out of the room.
It was ten o'clock when Eliphalet reached Miss Crane's,
and picked his way up the front steps where the boarders
were gathered.
"The war doesn't seem to make any difference in your
business, Mr. Hopper," his landlady remarked ; " where
have you been so late?"
"I happened round at Colonel Carvel's this afternoon
and stayed for tea with ^em," he answered, striving to
speak casually. ^
Miss Crane lingered in Mrs. Abner Reed's room later
than usual that night.
CHAPTER III
THE SCOUBOB OF Wa6
Jo^'^f ! ^"^ -""*"• At what ti.e shall I order
thrust inlJherlZr'' •""*• »* » '»"™PaP« the girl had
" TT,^T ''^' " '* I" *« K^tEe-l- " I cannot read "
i^'tuVd^TrthiVofi,':??^^^^^^^
aoarcel/S'^^l^'S, ^^"i'SriT^'' ""^ ^S""' -">
"And — Clarence?"
" His name is not there."
kel's^J^n*^^'" ""'*™'='* ""■• ^««- "A«. the Yan-
367
i I
I
'W^y^^-IS:^^-^m^:M
!
368
THE CRISIS
Mra. Colfax leaned forward and caught the hem of her
niece's gown. " Ob, let me stay," she cried, "let me stay.
Clarence may be with them."
Virginia looked down at her without pity.
"As you please, Aunt Lillian," she answered. "You
know that you may always stay here. I only beg of you
one thing, that vr\en you have anything to complain of,
you will bring it to me, and not mention it before Pa. He
has enough to worry him."
" Oh, Jinny," sobbed the lady, in tears again, " how can
you be so cruel at such a time, when my nerves are all iii
pieces ? "
But she n.id not lift her voice at dinner, which was ver
poor indeed for Colonel Carvel's house. All day long
Virginia, assisted by Uncle Ben and Aunt Easter, toiled
in the stifling kitchen, preparing dainties which she had
long denied herself. At evening she went to the station
at Fourteenth Street with her father, and stood amongst
the people, pressed back by the soldiers, until the trains
came in. Alas, the heavy basket which the Colonel car-
ried on his arm was brought home again. The first hun-
dred to arrive, ten hours in a hot car without food or
water, were laid groaning on the bottom of great furni-
ture vans, and carted to the new House of Refuge Hospi-
tal, two miles to the south of the city.
The next day many good women went there. Rebel and
Union alike, to have their hearts wrung. The new and
cheap building standing in the hot sun reeked with white-
wash and paint. The miserable men lay on the hard floor,
still in the matted clothes they had worn in battle. Those
were the first days of the war, when the wages of our pas-
sions first came to appal us. Many of the wounds had not
been tended since they were dressed on the field weeks
before.
Mrs. Colfax went too, with the Colonel and her niece,
although she declared repeatedly that she could not go
through with such an ordeal. She spoke the truth, for
Mr. Carvel had to assist her to the waiting-room. Then
he went back to the improvised wards to find Virginia
M:^^f^^~..
-R^',
m
THE 8C0UBGE OF WAR 3^
limp over^fe w«W Mv ^''^l^ke'.ed blood, hung
They put a mattress under the Aftiu.^ %;li„f.'°;-j
not leave him untU he had f»ll^ o^ Vugima did
peace was come upra Us annk^ ?, asleep, and a emUe of
fearful sights atoSt heT^Tj K ^- """"Vd at the
ere^ sidf, she™ "^^^T^ ^ tafSl"^' ™*r
s^-p^^i^f th^i^'^e r %E1¥™'"-
Imess of her who knelt there. Her fare "■'man-
even seen, for it was bent oV« the man ThVU'^* ""'
of her voice held Viwinia as in T.^n J.? sweetness
stopped greaning thaXL^ht li:t2E! ' ""* *' "■««'°*
■I.M
M
370
THE CBISIS
II
"You have a wife?**
"Yes, ma'am."
"AndachUd?" X '
The answer came so painfully.
" A boy, ma'am— bom the week —before I came— away."
I shall write to your wife," said the lady, so gently that
Virmma could scarce hear, "and teU her that you are
cared for. Where does she live?"
He gave the address faintly —some Uttle town in Min-
nesota. Then he added, " God bless you, lady."
Just then the chief surgeon came and stood over them.
The lady turned her face up to him, and teara sparkled in
Her eyes. Virgmia felt them wet in her own. Her wor-
ship was not given to many. Nobility, character, effi-
ciency, - all were written on that face. N. litV spoke in
the larpe features, in the generous mouth, in the calm, gray
eyes. Virgmia had seen her often before, but not until
now was the woman revealed to her.
"Doctor, could this man's life be saved if I took him to
my nome ?
The surgeon got down beside her and took the man's
pulse. -Die eyes closed. For a while the doctor knelt
there, shaking hia head. « He has fainted," he said.
"Do you think he can be saved ? " asked the lady again.
The surgeon smiled, — such a smile as a good mii Sves
after eighteen hours of amputating, of bandaging, of ^vis-
ing,— work which requires a firm hand, a clear eye and
brain, and a good heart. ^
"My dear^rs. Brice," he said, "I shall be glad to jret
you permission to take him, but we must first make him
worth the taking Another hour would have been too
1^^* A ,f^gla°^ed humedly about the busy room, and -hen
added. We must have one more to help us."
fathw^" ^^^"^ ^"^"^^ ^""^ touched Virginia's arm. It was her
"I am afraid we must go, dear," he said ; « your aunt is
getting impatient." ^
"Won't you please r;o without me. Pa?" she asked.
Ferhaps I can be iome use."
THE SCOUEGE OF WaE 37,
A?^^' ^""^ "y <'*»'■•" '•'• "»i<J "imply.
bandages At l«n,,ti, *u r '^^Pe<* to take oflf the rough
with all the Tne^?eft^''w "^K?Pi" ,'"='• »''P«»«'l
ladies. ^^ " '"'°' "^ thinks <» the two
haJa7su^„e"/Le^;L!:'ftf.S k^« -* »' he'
swrxothitj:"""! zt """^ *"«"r»- •"" ^i" ««■
a strange eS «2on Z PT"""? "^ *^'» "°"'»° had
longing unutterable It i.*^*'r:'''° "»» A^'ed with a
blended with he« _ wh"m^e Mw^h^ 5 '" 't^'-K^'X
879
THE CRISIS
geant 8 pallet Virginia's eyes followed her up the stairs,
and then she and her father walked slowly to the canWe!
With her foot on the step Virginia paused.
"Pa," she said, "do you think it would be possible to
get them to let us take that Arkansau into our house ? "
" Why, honey, I'll ask Brinsmade if you Uke," said the
t/olonel. " Here he comes now, and Anne."
I* yas Virginia who put the question to him.
"My dear," replied that gentleman, patting her, "I
would do anything in the world for you. FU see Gen-
erai trdmont this very afternoon. Virginia," he added,
soberly, " it is such acts as yours tonlay that give us courage
to live in these times." " o e
Anne kissed her friend.
" ^H,rJ*^°y' ^ ^^ ^hat yo^ were doing for one of our
men. What am I saying ?''' she cried. « They are your
men, too. This homble war cannot last. It cannot last."
It was well that Virginia did not see the smile on the
face of the commanding general when Mr. Brinsmade at
length got to him with her request. This was before the
days when the wounded arrived by the thousands, when
the zeal of the Southern ladies threatened to throw out of
P5^ J iT®"^^"^ **^ a great system. But the General
had had his eye on Mr. Carvel from the first Therefore
he smiled.
« Colonel Carvel," said Mr. Brinsmade, with diimitv,
"IS a gentleman. When he gives his word, it is swred.
sir.
"Even to an enemy," the General put in. «Bv
breorge, Brinsmade, unless I knew you, I should think that
JiTATk^san" '^^^ yourself. WeU, well, he may have
Mr. Brinsmade, when he conveyed the news to the Carvel
houae, did not say that he had wasted a precious afternoon
m the attempt to interview his Excellency, the Commander-
in-^hieL It was like obtaining an audience with the Sultan
or the Czar. Citizens who had been prominent in affau^
for twenty years, philanthropists and patriotic-spirited men
iifiie Mr, Brinsmade, the mayor, and all the ex-mayors mopped
THE SCOURGE OP WAB 373
ssi A-sw. ssss-isr rlrt""
to weiffh with hia i?^«»ii* ft ® gJJaro. it did not seem
hnm«T ^'- ^"ns^ade's carriasre that urought Mrs. Brice
She would not liaten to h« entreaties to ^t, but in the
i i
IfJI
874
THE CKISIS
i
I
"Such a singular thing happened to^y, Stephen," she
said. " It was while we were trying to save the life of a
poor sergeant who had lost his arm. I hope we shall be
allowed to have him here. He is suffering horribly."
" What happened, mother ? " he asked.
" It was soon after I had come upon this poor fellow,"
she said. "I saw the — the flies around him. And as I
got down beside him to fan them away I had such a queer
sensation. I knew that some one was standing behind me,
looking at me. Then Dr. Allerdyce came, and I asked
him about the man, and he said there was a chance of sav-
ing him if we could only get help. Then some one spoke
up, — such a sweet voice. It was that Miss Carvel, my
dear, with whom you had such a strange experience when
you bought Hester, and to whose party you once went.
Do you remember that they offered us their house in Glen-
coe when the Judge was so ill?"
"Yes," said Stenhen.
"She is a wonderful creature," his mother continued.
"Such personality, such life I And wasn't it a remarkable
offer for a Southern woman to make ? They feel so bit-
terly, and— and I do not blame them." The good lady
put down on her Ian the night-«hirt she was making. « I
saw how it happened. The girl was carried away by her
pity. And, mv dear, her capabUity astonished me. One
might have thought that she had always been a nurse.
The experience was a dreadful one for me — what must it
have been for her ! After the operation was over, I fol-
lowed her downstairs to where she was standing with her
father in front of the building, waiting for their carriage.
J felt that I must say something to her, for in all mv life
I have never seen a nobler thing done. When I saw her
there, I scarcely knew what to say. Words seemed so
inadequate. It was then three o'clock, a:.d she had been
working steadily in that place since morning. I am sure
she could not have borne it much longer. Sheer courage
CMried her through it, I know, for her hand trembled so
when I took it, and she was very pale. She usually has
color, I believe. Her father, the Colonel, was with' her,
:W^':i^
THE SCOURGE OF WAR 375
^iiff ^iT*** *?i ""f, "^v*^ ""°^ politeness. He had stood
gainst the waU aU the while we had worked and h«
Md^a^d'Sr /r "S- '^'' "^r^ Tt hShoule'i:
watcned, and that they have him under suspicion for 00m
Tw ^'^fi/^*^ *^" Confederate leaded M«?BTe
wffhed. "He seems such a fine character. I h"w thev
will not get into any trouble." ^ ^
"I hope not, mother," said Stephen.
qJ^i!^^^^^ mornincs later that Judge WhioDle and
Stephen drove to the 'iron Mountain de^«>t, whe?e thev
found a German company of Home G^rds dmwn u7
On the long wooden platform under the 8hec?« t^rr.],"?:
caught sight of Herr iferner and SfrJ Hauptm^nn a^^^^^^
group of their countrymen. Little Korner came fom^ tS
ck«p his hands. The teara ran on his cheeks, and hTcould
stoodTl^%Th*'°- "^"^^^ Whinple, grim and sUen^
scooa apart. But he uncovered his head with the othflrJ
when tW train rolled in. Revei^ntly they entered a cm
Wrout\CaiSSr "^^ P^^f^T?^^ '"^ anU'efand'th";
Dore out the earthly remains of Lieutenant Carl Richter
on RW "W'nf ^1°^ °t^^ V^^» «°«°g tho«e same o^
nn K^ HJl where brave Lyon fell, he had gladly givS
s^lS'^!^*^^^ V° *^^ cemetery, as the smoke of the last
^^lJ^.t ^^^i ^?^«^ ^ *^« flickering light and drifted
upward through the great trees, as the still aS waT vet
quivenng wi g the notes of the buglsKjall whL™ the
f?ni' W rr' ?,**",?grure, gaunt Ld bentrstLpped ml
from behina the blue line of the troops. It wa^ that of
Judge Whipple. He carried in his hanf a wreal of white
TnTp\^S''^ff*'^^ *°> ^^'^ o^ Richter's^ave
Poor Richter I How sad his life had been I And vpf
he had not filled it with sadness. For many a mo/^
and many a year, Stephen could not look u^on^his em^i
place without a pang. He missed the cheery son^^l
Cari Richter, -as his father before him, -had lived^for
! »
376
THE CBISIS
I
others. Both had saorifioed their bodiee for a oauae. One
of them might be pictured m he tmdged with Father Jahn
from door to door through the Rhine country, or shoulder*
iny at sixteen a heavy musket in the Landufehr'» ranks to
drive the tyrant Napoleon from the beloved Fatherland.
Later, aged before his time, his wife dead of misery, decrepit
and prison-worn in the service of a thuikless country, bis
hopes lived aeain in Carl, the swordsman of Jena. Then
came the pitiful Revolution, the sundering of all ties, the
elder man left to drag out his few weary days before a shat-
tered altar. In Carl a new aspiration had sprung up, a new
patriotism stirred. His, too, had been the sacrifice. Happy
m death, for he had helped perpetuate that great Union
which should be for all time the refuge of the oppressed.
'I
CHAPTER IV
TH« U8T OP 8IZTT
We and gfaon^ wlen they .tarted, died of Dneumon!.^!:
tte pubho lodging-home. •'xhe wijls rf Saf ho,l dw
^many teles to wring the heart. So conld jTBrin^
niad^ djd he ohooae to speak of his own charitiL St
founded, and bv, correspondence, and his jonmSTof We
— between early mommg and midnight, — to 5v« ^m!.'
hours a day to the i«ic«ee<. ^ """
S77
: i t
378
THE CRISIS
Fl
Throughoat December they poured in on the afflicted
city, already overtaxed. All the vny to Springfield the
road was lined with remains of articles once dear — a
child's doll, a little rocking-chair, a colored print that had
hung in the best room, a Bible text.
Anne Brinamade, driven by Nicodemus, went from house
to house to solicit old clothes, and take them to the crowded
place of detention. Christmas w Irawing near — a sorry
Christmas, in truth. And many of the wanderers were
unclothed and unfed.
More battles had been fought ; factions had arisen among
Union men. AnoUier general had come to St. Louis to take
charge of the Department, and the other with his wondrous
bodv-guard was gone.
The most serious problem confronting the new general
was — how to care for the refugees. A council of citizens
was called at headquarters, and the verdict went forth in
the never-to-be-forgotten Order» No. 24. " Inasmuch," said
the General, '* as the Secession army had driven these people
ttom their homes. Secession sympathizers should be made
to support them." He added that the city was unquestion-
ably lull of these. Indignation ^v rife the day that order
was published. Sixty prominent "disloyalists" were to
be chosen and assessed to make up a sum of ten thousand
dollars.
" They may sell my house over my head before I will
pay a cent," cried Mr. Russell. And he meant it. This
was the way the others felt. Who were to be on this
mysterious list of " Sixty " ? That was the all-absorbing
question of the town. It was an easy matter to pick the
consoicuous ones. Colonel Carvel was sure to be there,
and Mr. Catherwood and Mr. Russell and Mr. James, and
Mr. Worington the lawyer. Mrs. Addison Colfdx lived
for days in a fermented state of excitement which she
declared would break her down ; and which, despite her
many cares and worries, gave her niece not a litUe amuse-
ment. For Virginia was human, and one morning she went
to her aunt's room to read this editorial from the news-
paper : —
"^-m
\. ^'Z ■ . Wi-
THE LIST OP SIXTY 379
weU^to ^tTfll!, **' "'y I*llrfUting heart, it may be
weii to jiate that we understand only two ladiM aid !Z
the ten thousand dollar list." ^ * *" °"
».l?m?S;"/H °"*^' /*^°^ **» y«» »» »o cruel as to
wad me that, when you know that Tarn in a state of f "nzv
now? How does that relieve me? It makes H an aliX J
Tw °?J^ '^'''" - ? °' importance in the city." ^^
and dmvl t'T?,'^' mad^ ffood her much-uttered threat,
and drove to Bellegurde. Only the Colonel and Virginia
Chnstmas eve was a steel-«ay day, and the sleet froze
Jh J -fff • • ^''^^ morning Colonel Carvel had sat poking
the sitting-room fire, or pacing the floor restlawlv H^
occupation was gone. He was observed LZ ffiay bv
I J I^^i ^^^P^r"^- Virginia strove to amSse l5m, to^con.
buf for h?rT^ " u t ^*^^"*^ ^^' Well she knew th^t
oftln in Z K^r^^^ long since have fled southward, and
for not J^int V "T ""^ '^V'^S^^^i^e she blamed heraelf
nJJh- • ^ ^^ ^ ^^' T«» yea" had seemed to pass
h«r^ii ^ ^°"«^ she had been striving to put away from
fathers early £ome-coming from the store, I mvsterioul
smileon his face; of Cap^n Li^ stamping nZuynto
s^n ?^':'??r^°K^ uproarious Jests with ifed and^jic^
f^o* .The Captain had always carried under his arm a
shape ess bunSle which he would confide to Ned ^^th a
knowing wmk. And then the house would 4 ll^Jted
r^l 1 ^""»™a^e came in for a long evening with Mr
Carvel over great bowls of apple toddy and egg-n^ And
Virginia would have her own frieni the big parior
That parlor was shut up now, and icy cold. ^ ^
wnose year was his Christmas dinner at Colonel Carvel's
iiM
.r^-wi-i>- ♦:"-T « .-iT. *^~-<4*i^
380
THE CRISIS
I
house. Virginia pictured him this year at Mrs. Brice's
little table, and wondered whether he would miss them as
much as they missed him. War . "v break frienifehips,
but it cannot take away the sacrednbo. of memories.
The sombre daylight was drawing to an early close as
the two stood looking out of the sitting-room window.
A man's figure mu£Bed in a greatcoat slanting carefully
across the street caught their eyes. Virginia started. It
was the same United States deputy marshal she had seen
the day before at Mr. Russell's house.
" Pa," she cried, " do you think he is coming here ? "
"I reckon so, honey.
" The brute I Are you going to pay ? "
"No, Jinny."
" Then they will take away the furniture."
•' I reckon they will."
^' F.'S you must promise me to take down the mahogany
bed in your room. It — it was mother's. I could not
bear to see them take that. Let me put it in the garret."
The Colonel was distressed, but he spoke without a
tremor.
" No, Jinny. We must leave this house just as it is."
Then he added, strangely enough for him, " God's wUl be
done."
The bell rang sharply. And Ned, who was cook and
housemaid, came in with his apron on.
" Does you want to see folks, Marse Comyn ? "
The Colonel rose, and went to the door himself. He
was an imposing figure as he stood in the windy vestibule,
coufronting the deputy. Virginia's first impulse was to
siirink under the stairs. Then she came out and stood
beside her father.
"Are vou Colonel Carvel?"
•' I reckon I am. Will you come in ? "
The officer took off his cap. He was a young man with
a smooth face, and a frank brown eye which paid its tribute
to Virginia. He did not appear to relish the duty thrust
upon him. He fumbled in his joat and drew from his
inner pocket a paper.
ft
Rl
THE LIST OF SIXTY 331
H-n^l''?^ ^"^®^'*' ^^ ^®' " ^y <>'der of Major General
HaUeck, I serve vou with this notice to pay the sum^f
three hundred ana fifty dollars for the benefit of the d^S
tuU famihes which the Rebels have driven from their homi.
n uexan c of payment within a reasonable time such per-
»ona article, will be seized and sold at public auction i S?[l
iaf sfy thd r.,mand against you."
The Colonel took the paper. " Verv wpII sir " 1,0 o«;j
port persons who have no claim upon me." ^
It was said in the tone in which he might have refused
an inyitetion to dinner. The deputy marvelled He had
Cf '^ r*"^ ^""T^ i^**^ "^^^^^ ^ad seen indignation,
hysterics, frenzy. He had even heard men and women
whose sons and brothers were in the army of secessioTpro
claim their lovalty to the Union. But this dignity, and the
quiet scorn o^ the girl who had stood silent ^sfde them!
Z^U w^' , "^^^«d' ^°d casting his eyes to the vesU:
^«j^' was glad to escape from the house.
The Colonel shut the door. Then he turned toward Vir-
gmia, thoughtfully pulled his goatee, and laughed gently'
'Lordy, we haven't got three hundred and fifty dollars
to our names," said he. ^ «""»«
1« J^? ?1!"*T^- °^ ^-' ^V" ^, capricious. That fierce val-
nUL^^ .^'S^^^^i!' .""^'"^ *^^^^«« fi^^'^l blizzards from
December to March, is sometimes quiet. Then the hot
winds come up from the Gulf, and sleet melts, and win-
dows are opened. In those days the streets will be fetlock
deep m soft mud. It is neither summer, nor winter, nor
spring, nor anything. '
It was such a languorous afternoon in January that a
turniture van, accompanied by certain nondescript pereons
frnnT^nfiy^'n*^ Stetes Police, puUed up at the curb in
front of Mr. Carvel's house. Eugenie, watehing at the
window across the street, ran to tell her father, wTio came
out on his steps and reviled the van with all the fluency
of his French ancestors. ^
ii^ir ^ ^■
.
W'
er'T^ve:.
382
THE CRISIS
f
n
Mammy Easter opened the door, and then stood with
her arms akimbo, amply filling its place. Her lips pro-
truded, and an expression of (&f ruice hard to describe sat
on her honest black face.
"Is this Colonel Carvel's house?"
" Yassir. I 'low you knows dat jes as well as me." An
embarrassed silence, ui^^ then from Mammy, "Whaffor
youlaffinat?"
"Is the Colonel at home?"
" Now I reckon you knows dat he ain't. Ef he was, you
ain't come here 'quirin' in dat honey voice." (Raising her
own voice.) " You tink I dunno whaffor you come ? You
done come heah to rifle, an' to loot, an to steal, an' to
seize what ain't your'n. You come heah when young
Marse ain't to home ter rob him." (Still louder.) "Ned,
whaffor you hidin' yonder? Ef yo' ain't man to protect
Marse Comyn's prop-ty, jes han' over Marse Comyn's
gun."
The marshal and his men had stood, half amused, more
than half baffled by this unexpected resistance. Mammy
Easter looked so dangerous that it was evident she was
not to be passed without extreme bodily discomfort.
" Is your mistress here ? "
This question was unfortunate in the extreme.
" You — you white trash I " cried Mammy, bursting with
indignation. " Who is you to come heah 'quiring fo' her !
I ain't agfwine — "
" Mammy I "
"Yas'ml Yas, Miss Jinnv." Mammy backed out of
the door and clutched at her bandanna.
" Mammy, what is all this noise about?"
The torrent was loosed once more.
" These heah wen. Miss Jinny, was gwine f 'r t' carry
away all yo' pa's b'longin's. I jes' tol' 'em dey ain't comin'
in ovah dis heah body."
The deputy had his foot on the threshold. He caught
sight of the face of Miss Carvel within, and stopped
abruptly.
"I have a warrant here from the Provost Marshal,
:ti.>
"X'""iTv5,'
■4^to.^i£/^.£'?^
jk,^*^^r^Vif:'
:'>i^i
-■V
'-«CR<>_^
THE LIST OF SIXTT 3,3
SZ C^':, .P"~"^ P~I«'^ t» ««»fy . cWm .g^t
'^i'r^ot't^^ h'" "i"*"' ™^ "^ "d handed it b«k
But it" ^Tti td;.„i -' "■"'' *^" ^- "<>- »0"y I »".
AndatXalht'oftt^^aTchL'S l^'^"" ^^"'"> ««<»•
crystaU, he wlistkd Cn he wife ""'^ '? ""*«'«»
EnrfiA RothHeld piano and Kftedlflfd" *° *" "«
self o^"??: rh^JZtS air'" W' '-'^O '""'-
keys. They Sd^t^ V l^fnt ""J ''? "»«*'* »«' the
the hall, t.Ve out tt^le^ J-ordTotaLTv'"""'" "
stoISinTelSkM^^,-^ -|h^.r;rhad once
cyondale. TOe «,nZrf R«., •*^^***''"' ^olf^ at Hal-
oi the what-not neTby No Tor^o?" ** '"'•'°" »>■««
they were alone, toiS Vi,^- • ' "•' ?° evening when
an/ play them over to tfieP^f^ ^"'S'^^ ^^^ *»«■» out
the ^niw wiU, hU 0^ d^'w ''° T* .^«»-»»8 "
borders of a wood, S tf^^^J^^XMX^^^ °" *■»
sang them softly to h/iself iS .hT n '^j'"?' ''»°^' """l
^toM^i^ia'^^-Jh^ i^» o-tlff V,£i
the words of Emy ^W "■' ^' *""« "■« »>«««
easen. of endearmenl A^n^y^t, w^'e Z^r^^n *d'
- - I
'• m
iii| 1 1^ I nil I wp III II I ■■Ill GBK^^Btrw^:^
''k
ilu
f!
884
THE CRISIS
them, she glared unceasingly at the intraden. " Oh, de
good Lawd'll bum de wicked I"
The men were removing the carved legs. Virginia
went back into the room and stood before the deputy.
"Isn't there something else you could take? Some
jewellery?" She flushed. "I have a necklace — "
_ " No, miss. This warrant's on your father. And there
ain't nothing quite so salable as pianos."
She watched them, dry-eyed, as they carried it away.
It seemed like a coffin. Only Mammy Easter guessed at
the pain in Virginia's breast, and that was because there
was a pain in her own. They took the rosewood what-
not, but Virginia snatched the songs before the men could
touch them, and held them in her arms. They seized the
mahogany velvet-bottomed chairs, her uncle's wedding
present to her mother; and, last of all, they ruthlessly
tore up the Brussels carpet, beginning near the spot where
Clarence had spilled ice-cream at one of her children's
parties.
She could not bear to look into the dismantled room
when they had gone. It was the embodied wreck of her
happiness. Ned closed the blinds once more, and she her-
self turned the key in the lock, and went dowly up the
stairs.
CHAPTER V
THE AUCTION
»n't?SrS::;it4° ttCJS^tSf' ™y. "there
ertv sales." ^ ^^^ * 8^® o^®' *<> the Secesh prop-
Stephen looked up in surnrise TKo •
tended sale of secession prcS? hoH il- '^f ""^^ »°^ ^^
bitterness and indignatk)S?i^J^c^ 't?^** "P ^"^"^ense
ists (lukewarm) whodenLnlJl' ^^^^^ ^^^^ Union-
and brutal. ThefleUnTTtut^^^^^ ^ "°j"«*
secret, maj only be sunniSd Rf^^f"'- ^^^^^^ *nd
the price if biidinff onTv tnn?^ 5-^ ostracism was to be
Wht in handsomf fSSfe on ^ /'^l?°^ "^'^ ^^«
cheap have still, after ?ort™?s causet^J^'"^il^^^«
It was not that Steohen <^^nS' \ -^ remember it.
made was almost the^X^^^eitlSTi' "^""^ ^""«-
former circle of acquainteSes MJ^« p ^'?,'" *"**"fir ^
known. The Misses RuS showpri,-^"'^^^ ' ^°°^"^t "
thej disapproved of hte ^ ticL "tk^ ''"^ ?^^^'3^ *hat
that house were over iC Sh J ' ^ospitatle d^ys at
on the street, pretended Zff'^'^'^x.'^' ^^®° they met
Renault gave hiK?rL^f„^ ''Th^^ T? ^"^^«i«
whose houses he now went wp?2' .f ^""J^^ i^milies to
sentiment against forTerauetrom """"^^^ Southerner, in
f^^r7iXr:i^''l^^^^^^^^ forth int. the
for some distance if silenr^ ""'• ^^^^^ ^^^^^
hid&°'" «^^^ ^«' P«««-%. "I guess m do a little
Stephen did not renW B..t i,.
wondered what Mr vK- i ™ ™* astontahed. Ha
And, a he «^lf w&t' Wd"^? T"" ?"« f""""" •
thatnoeon,ideriiiorw::id^4CP'""' '^'»» ''k^wi^e
**' 386
' m^mmm ,mmr:mA'
3M
THE CRISIS
" You don't approve of this proceeding, fir, I suppoee,"
said the Judge.
" Yes, sir, on large grounds. War makes many harsh
things necessary."
"Then," said the Judge, tartly, "by bidding, we help to
support starving Union femilies. You should not be afraid
to bid, sir."
Stephen bit his lip. Sometimes Mr. Whipple made him
very angry.
" I am not afraid to bid. Judge Whipple." He did not
see tHe smile on the Judge's face.
" Then you will bid in certain things for me," said Mr.
Whipple. Here he hesitated, and shook free the rest of
the sentence with a wrench. " Colonel Carvel always had
a lot of stuff I wanted. Now I've got the chance to buy it
cheap."
There was silence again, for the space of a whole block.
Finally, Stephen managed to say : —
"You'll have to excuse me, sir. I do not care to do
that."
" What I " cried the Judge, stopping in the middle of a
cross-street, so that a wagon nearly ran over his toes.
" I was once a guest in Colonel Carvel's house, sir.
And — "
"And what?"
Neither the young man nor the old knew all it was
costing the other to say these things. The Judge took a
frim pleasure in eating his heart. And as for Stephen,
e often went to his office through Locust Street, which
was out of his way, in the hope that he might catch a
glimpse of Virginia. He had guessed much of the pri-
vations she had gone through. He knew that the Colonel
had hired out most of his slaves, and he had actually seen
the United States Police drive across Eleventh Street with
the piano that she had played on.
The Judge was lau 'hing quietly, — not a pleasant laugh
to hear, — as they came to Morgan's great warerooms.
A crowd blocked the pavement, and hustled and shoved
at the doors, — roughs, and soldiers off duty, and ladies and
■^^■-
THE AUCTION g^
;^f ^u-jS^^Z X'H-A''::^ 7^««
tightly to Stephel pmhed hSl^y finely to^hi".*"?
uiea aoout before the public eye, meant a heartanhftr w^
stage coach itself. There we« a.e toofa! hS un^„~ *'
fa^iy bSUs .„d'5>'"Cf" P^ «' *« haU were tt.e
ofte/^-C/S^^'iioSl'^^U'^.^tp^ ffi rf
chUdren, now scattered and gone to war. ^^^ "'
h« w,fe on her sUver wedding being sold to a ^l^brfker!
li'-'wyir-'
388
THE CRISIS
Stephen looked in vain for Colonel Cawel — for Virginia.
He did not want to see them there. He knew by neart
the list of things which had been taken from tl ^ir house.
He understood the feeling which had sent the Judge here
to bid them in. And Stephen honored him the more.
When the auctioneer came to the Carvel list, and the
well-known name was shouted out, the crowd responded
V. ith a stir and pressed closer to the stand. And murmurs
were plainly heard in more than one direction.
"Now, gentlemen, and ladies," said the seller, "this
here is a genu-ine English Rothfield piano once belonging
to Colonel Carvel, and the celebrated Juclge Colfax of
Kaintucky." He lingered fondly over the names, that
the impression might have time to sink deep. " This here
magnificent instrument's worth at the very least " (another
pause) " — twelve hundred dollars. What am I bid?"
He struck a base note of the keys, then a treble, and
they vibrated in the heated air of the big hall. Had he
hit the little C of the top octave, the tinkle of that also
might have been heard.
" Gentlemen and ladies, we have to begin somewheres.
What am I bid?"
A menacing murmur gave place to the accusing silence.
Some there were who gazed at the Rothfield with longing
eyes, but who had no intention of committing social sui-
cide. Suddenly a voice, the rasp of which penetrated to
St. Charles Street, came out with a bid. The owner was
a seedy man with a straw-colored, drunkard's mustache.
He was leaning against the body of Mrs. Russell's barouche
(seized for sale), and those about him shrank away as from
smallpox. His hundred-dollar offer was followed by a hiss.
What followed next Stephen will always remember.
When Judge Whipple drew himself up to his full six feet,
that was a warning to those that knew him. As he
doubled the bid, the words came out with the aggressive
distinctness of a man who through a long life has been
used to opposition. He with the gnawed yellow mustache
pushed himself clear of the barouche, his smouldering cigar-
butt dropping to the floor. But there were no hisses now,
f 'je..
f^:^
5*-i
mSi^.
THE AUCTION gg,
conjecture, as to what h?«,uM S k .*"?'' ?'»»J' "«» the
h» old friend. Thie who knew t^."? i;'* "•« ?'»»» <-'
were few who did not) pictured VtK "''f' ('"^ "-ere
little apartment where h«S ^ ""emselves the dinirv
deiraotors might ha™ iid ?f i.- '"' """'^- Whatever h'S^
to av.w that V hTdht n^""' u ""* y"" «™'- he^
^^ tremor ran through &'Tef^ *|!}".'"»8 '« gain,
admiration for the fine old m.n V ^°"'" " h*™ he™ of
defiance at those ateut ht?" G?™*^""^^ "''■^ S>»ri»ff
SMtent enemv " som« o.rr., '™ "^ * ^'fong and con-
« lukewarm feenST ^^^r^eToT^A" '"'* ""^er th»
had lived, and now some ^ereTi^™ ^^"^ *« "'•«'««
he had a heart. Verilv ^1^.1^ "i"? 'o «»«!»«« 'hat
But it was let out to mlnv ^ \Z^f ^ f"^' "«»
home praising him wC sLl n^„ * ^^' »"^ they went
'rith bittemei. °™'' pronounced his name
t«=Kuld'lkT;"ht,i8f7 he of the yeUow mus-
another bid, L Ju?ge had & "? ""* ^°°' »■"» ""ake
total of Colonel cK aiessme* ■? ""V""'' ™' ""e
this day how fiercely he frn,^^ i. . '**»"}' "call to
forth of itself; andwhen he .?,^J*'° 'he appfau,^ broke
for Hm, in admirati» the letTh ofif ^f^ ?""» « f"*
he stalked, looking neith«. h, fl • t ''*''' down which
foUowed him, th^kful f ' '°thJ%"^'" i^'J^^ Stephen
him into the service o?;u^'a*^^y "'»«>' had brought
«Vc„Tn:itaJtel''tU^^^^^^^^ IJli"'- "-
to put down ti^cwpet, b^t^r^?"- •'.TS'^t them okZ
were stood up in the'^comer Md thTS'* ' f^T the n-lls
uegroes«pthenar™ws^iltauti&;^. ~g
- i
liH
rf?lS*-*8i&if^f'^;-^«S^''i^.«??^^ - f^-tf
390
THE CRISIS
and Shadraoh had by Mr. Whipple's orders cleared a corner
of his inner ofBce and bedroom of papers and books and
rubbish, and there the bulky instrument was finally set up.
It occupied one-third of the space. The Judge watched
the proceeding grimly, choking now and again from the dust
that was raised, yet uttering never a word. He locked the
lid when the van man handed him the key, and thrust that
in his pocket.
Stephen had of late found enough to do in St. Louis.
He was the kind of a man to whom promotions came
unsought, and without noise. In the autumn he had been
made a captain in the Halleck Guards of the State Militia,
as a reward for his indefatigable work in the armories and
his knowledge of tactics. Twice his company had been
called out at night, and once they made a campaign as far
as the Merimec and captured a party of recruits who were
destined for Jefferson Davis. Some weeks passed before
Aiv. Brinsmade heard of his promotion and this exploit, and
yjt scarcely a day went by that he did not see the young
man at the big hospital. For Stephen helped in the work
of the Sanitaiy Commission too, ^nd so strove to make up
in zeal for the service in the field which he longed to gi'se.
After Christmas Mr. and Mrs. Brinsmade moved out
to their place on the Bellefontaine Road. This was to
force Anne to take a rest. For the girl was worn out
with watching at the hospitals, and with tending the desti-
tute mothers and children from the ranks of the refugees.
The Brinsmade place was not far from the Fair Grounds,
— now a receiving camp for the crude but eager regiments
of the Northern states. To Mr. Brinsmade's, when the
day's duty was done, the young Union oflBcers used to
riae, and often there would be half a dozen of them to tea.
That house, and other great houses on the Bellefontaine
Road with which this history has no occasion to deal, were
as homes to many a poor fellow who would never see
home again. Sometimes Anne would gather together
such young ladies of her acquaintance from the neighbor-
hood and the cit^ as their interests and sympathies per-
mitted to waltz with a Union officer, and mere would be
THE At TION
391
One such oooasion oocur-ed on a Friday in J*nn*^
yellow-brown, but the north wind which f^ed the h.~
Anf sS,7.^s' C'.rL^'Xto^'iiS;"'?
on f t ^TsS:^^ ^^'^ "» -" - of tJ"^«»
fold tS.";^'^." JfSV.''*' P?'l\''l'en .he
tojKirte:^tred^%,r;^»'"«^«:
oSLTV"- J° '^"' r'™- *^ smoke froHhe euje
S^" "™'"« " "» ™'>' "«> tbe hurrying 1^^0,1
to«m^ fe'Jl^f^"""' '^* » "8>>, "how 8he loved
»anSd,TnvoMr " ""^"P^'" ^'*P'"° <•*-
co;w''noriakfhe't°".Vit"" T^or "'' •^"* T"
lei me see them. She made some joke about Spencer
m
fm
THE CHIS18
Cfttherwood running away. What do you think the
Judge will do with that piano, Stephen?*^
He shook his head.
♦♦ The day after they put it in his room he camo in with
a great black cloth, which he spread over it. You cannot
even see the feet."
There was a silence. And Anne, turning to him timidly,
gave him a long, searching look.
" It is growing late," she said. " I think that we ought
to ffo back."
They went out by the long entrance road, through the
naked woods. Stephen said little. Only a little while
before he had had one of those vivid dreams of Virginia
which left their impression, but not their substance, to
haunt him. On those rare days following the dreams her
spirit had its mastery over his. He pictured her then
with a glow on her face which was neither sadness nor
mirth, — a glow that ministered to him alone. And yet,
he did not dare to think that he might have won her,
even if politics and war had not divided them.
When the merriment of the dance was at its height
that evening, Stephen stood at the door of the long room,
meditatively watching the bright gowns and the flash of
gold on the uniforms as they flitted past. Presently the
opposite door opened, and he heard Mr. Brinsmade's voice
mingling with another, the excitable energy of which
recaUed some familiar episode. Almost — so it seemed —
at one motion, the owner of the voice had come out of the
door and had seized Stephen's hand in a warm grasp, —
a tall and spare figure in the dress of a senior officer.
The military frock, which fitted the man's character rather
than the man, was carelessly open, laying bare a gold-but-
toned white waistcoat and an expanse of shirt bosom which
ended in a black stock tie. The ends of the collar were
apart the width of the red clipped beard, and the mus-
tache was cropped straight along the line of the upper
lip. The forehead rose high, and was brushed carelessly
free of the hair. The nose was almost straight, but com-
bative. A fire fairly burned in the eyes.
ro^ AUCTION
.393
** The boy doesn't remember me»'' said the gentleman,
"» quick tones, smiling at Mr. Brinsmade.
1 " J '.*^V ' ^®'" S^phen made haste to answer. He
glanced at the sUr on tte shoulder strap, and said : " You
are General Sherman.
"Fim^rete"^'" ^*"^^'^ ^^* ^^°^"^» P*"*"» *"»»•
♦'Now in command at Camp Benton, Stephen," Mr.
Bnnsmade put in "Won't you sit down, General ? "
Wo, said the General, emphatically waving away
the chair "No, rather stand." Then his keen face sud-
denly lighted with amusement, — and mischief, Stephen
thought. « So you've heard of me since we met, sir ? "
" Yes, General."
"Humph I Guess you heard I was crazy," said the
General, in his downright way.
Stephen was struck dumb.
Rr;« '^^^.^^u*"^^*^'"^ ^"^ "«* »° **»e newspapers too,
Brinsmade, the General went on rapidly. "I'll make
em eat their newspaners for saying I was crazy. That's
the Secretary of War's doings. Ever tell you what
Cameron did, Brinsmade? l?e and his party were in
Louisville last fall, when I was serving in Kentucky, and
came to my room in the Gait House. Well, we locked
the door, and Miller sent us up a good lunch and wine.
After lunch, the Secretary lay on my bed, and we talked
things over. He asked me what I thought about things
in Kentucky. Iteldhim. I got a map. I said, *x\ow Mr
Secretary, here is the whole Union line from the Potomac
to Kansas. Here's McCleUan in the East with one hun-
dred miles of front. Here's Fremont in the West with
one hundred miles. Here we are in Kentucky, in the
centre, with three hundred miles to defend. McClellan
has a hundred thousand men, Fremont has sixty thousand,
rou give us fellows with over three hundred miles only
eighteen thousand.' 'How many do you want?' says
l^ameron, still on the bed. * Two hundred thowtand before
we get through, said I. Cameron pitehed up his hands
m the air. 'Great God ! ' says he, ' where are they to
»i
J^t
394
THE CRISIS
coma from ? * * The northwest is chuck full of regiments
you fellov 3 at Washington won't accept,' said I. * Mark
my words, Mr. Secretary, you'll need 'em all and more
before we get done with this Rebellion.' Well, sir, he
was very friendly before we finished, and I thought the
thing was all thrashed out. No, sir I he goes back to
Washington and gives it out that I'm crazy, and want
two hundred thousand men in Kentucky. Then I am or-
dered to report to Halleck m Missouri here, and he calls
me back from Sedalia because he believes the lies."
Stephen, who had in truth read the stories in question a
month or two before, could not conceal his embarrassment.
He looked at the man in front of him, — alert, masterful,
intelligent, frank to any stranger who took his fancy, --
and wondered how any one who had talked to him could
believe theu..
Mr. Brinsmade smiled. « They have to print something.
General," he said. ^ r s*
" I'll give 'em something to print later on," answered the
General, grimly. Then his expression changed. "Brins-
made, you fellows did have a session with Fremont, didn't
you? Anderson sent me over here last September, and
the first man I ran across at the Planters' House was Ap-
pleton. * What are you in town for? ' says he. * To see
Fremont,' I said. You ought to have heard Appleton laugh.
* You don't think Fr^montll see yow, do you? ' says he. ' Why
not?' »Well,' says Tom, 'go 'round to his palace at six
to-morrow morning and bribe that Hungarian prince who
runs his body-guard to get you a good place in the line of
senators and governors and first citizens, and before night-
fall you may get a sight of him, since you come from An-
derson. Not one man in a hundred,' says Appleton, ' not
one man in a hundred, reaches his chief-of-staflf.' Next
morning," the General continued in a staccato which was
often his habit, " had breakfast before daybreak and went
'round there. Place just swarming with Calif ornians —
army contracts." (The General sniffed.) « Saw Fremont.
Went back to hotel. More Califomians, and by gad — old
Baron Steinberger with his nose hanging over the register."
5^i,^-?cs?»gr2*
THE AUCTION
dd5
'Frdmont was a Me difficult to get at, General," said
Mr. Bnnsmade. " Things were confused and discouraged
when those first contracts were awarded. Fremont wm a
good man, and it wasn't his fault that the inexperience of
hw^^uartermasters permitted some of those men to get
r^°'" ^i<* *\General. "His fault! Certainly not.
Good man! To be sure he was -didn't get along with
Blair. These court-martials you're having Lere now have
stirred up the whole country. I guess we'll hear now
how those fortunes were made. To listen to those wit-
SSe " ''*^®' °^ *^® ^**"^ '^ ^**®^ *^^ *^®
r.S^^F}v'' i^""^^^^ ** ??® ^'^^^^^l »^*1 vi^d manner in
which the General set this matter forth. He himself had
been present one day of the sittings of the court-martial
when one of the witnesses on the prices of mules was that
same seedy man with the straw-colored musb^he who had
bid for Virginia's piano against the Judge.
"Come, Stephen," said the General, abruptly, "run and
snatch one of those pretty girls from my officers. They're
hp vinff more than their share." ^
"They deserve more, sir," answered Stephen.
Whereupon the General laid his hand impulsively on
the young man s shoulder, divining what Stephen did not
"Nonsense!'' said he; "you are doing the work in this
war, not we. We do the damage — you repair it. If it
were not for Mr. Brinsmade and you gentlemen who help
him, where would our Western armies be ? Don't you eo
to the front yet a whUe young man. We need the best
we have m reserve." He glanced critically at Stephen.
" You've had militarjr training of some sort; ? " ^
**Hes a captain m the Halleck Guards, sir," said Mr
Bnnsmade, generously, "and the best driUmaster we've
had m this city. He's seen service, too. General."
the G^neSJ'clSd : 1^^^ ^'^^ '^^ *« P^^^«*' ^^^^
« It's more than I have in this war. Come, come, I knew
.lit
I! ,
- i-' t\
.. : Iv.i
•' » If!
f...«^;«4 J.^^^^-'' '.-^-'V-i^a^:
396
THE CRISIS
^.^ V"^^^"*-^ ^f^ '®® ^^** ^^^ «^ a strategist he'll
make. Bnnsmade, have you got such a thing as a ^map ? "
lib^ ^Tk'T^' had, and fed the way lick into the
library. The General shut the door, lighted a clear with
a single vigorous stroke gf a match, and began t% smoke
with quick puffs. Stephen was puzzled how to receive
freedom ^°°^* General was giving out with such
a rTnn-w*^^ T^ "^^f ^'^ ^'^ ^^^ ^^^^^ ^^^ C^^neral drew
?„?t Sr ^u^ S°^^^* ^""^ P°^"^«d ^ ^^^ state of Ken-
tucky. Then he drew a line from Columbus to Bowling
Green, through Forts Donelson and Henry. ^
"Now, Stephen," said he, « there's the Rebel line. Show
me the proper place to break it."
Stephen hesitated a while, and then pointed at the
« Good I " said the General. « Verv good I " He drew
a heavy line across the first, and it ran almost in the bed
of the Tennessee River. He swung on Mr. Brinsmade.
"Very question HaUeck asked me the other day, and
nat!o^ r f "f ^^^«4 '\ Now, gentlemen, thereVa man
named Grant down in that part of the country. Keep
your eyes on him. Ever heard of him, Brinsmade? He
w»!. *?. ^f* °''''^' *,°J? * y®*"^ ^So be was less than I
was. Now he 8 a general.
*», "^^^ '•^collection of the scene in the street by the Arsenal
fshock ^ °»orning not a year gone came to Stephen with
"I saw him," he cried; "he was Captain Grant that
lived on the Gravois Road. But surely this can't be the
BeTmont » ^^'^^^ Paducah and was in that affair at
" By gum I " said the General, laughing. " Don't won-
der you re surprised. Grant has stuff in him. Thev
kicked him around Springfield awhile, after the war
broke out, for a mihtary carpet-bagger. Then they gave
him for a regiment the worst lot of hoodlums you ever
laid eyes on. He fixed 'em. He made 'em walk the
plank. He made em march halfway across the state
"^mm-
THE AUCTION ^^
of Behnonf ^hen h *boTh *^* ."''"^ "" R«l» "ut
mto the town, mi w3t G~n.'°°°.' 'T*'" ""'X «<>*
•^e bwk «id chased ^m out S^ tw'^t, ^''» B«^
nver. Brinsmade vnn «.« l ■ '"■ •»»«» on the
Grant did the^^t^tLg y«« ?vert''"°V'»"t "»^
horse at the top of the blul wWlefLT' ?^, *"' '"' ^s
other tiying to get on tte W v ^^' ?" """ ««•>
disgusted, on his* horee smoHn!; ^^' '"■• •■« ««» there,
raising pandemoniSm all "±"/d \,'"8"V!?' ">« Rel>^
cried the General, eicitedlv" ,2^ . J"' ^""^ *'"«•'. sir,"
Hanged if he d dn't S hi \ "*" y"!" '""'^ •■« did?
haunehes, slide down the^ho^- 1^°'!^ "Isht on to hi,
ride him across a telteiS, pitnk onTV *' '«°'' »■"•
the Kebs just stood on^'i^tenk .ni f^ 5***'"'''- And
so astonished thev didD't.L„ i ?1 ""«<J- They were
Grant," said the Gene.^ "'TV''" "■»»• You waSh
s^ded, "just yon nfn o^and 4''e hold^'f ^.SfP'""''" ''^
|.H,ru can find. « any oftf ^;:,°"4„ ^e^Prettiest
TiStnra£ta:ra^«S"-. It was little
face, come to town on a fewdiwf , ^ ^"* """d tanned
vrith Lyon at WiWs C«ek^£d h1''hfS- ^\^ '««•'
teU of how he found do^ Ri^^f , ^*^ » ™^ s<«"7 to
Woody field, with a smi?eTf SI nL^T^ f "* »° "•»t
tha he should at length haylteenSL^ ^*- . ^'.'""S*
B was a sad meetimr f™ tL \ . ^ "^ » sabre
the other of a dSir frLnl tht^o ,Th ' "'"'" ^^ '*»»'led
They went out to sup together totb.'r "° ""^ "° ^^^h.
pdually,oTOrhisb^r;?iefelfLlf 1.^™'° '^■y^' "d
Sstened with an ache to the iLu^ ^f°^o^- Stephen
P^gns he had been through S^tS'.**'^ "' *« ""m-
cried out:— '"rougn- So that presently Tiefel
tell' ^S';; &torrS "'"*""'""^ ■" ■» <"''■ I «U
She^an ? He^th^t Vsiy rc.:!:';?.^" "^ »" G"-™!
He « no mo„ on.y th«. I am,"^said Stephen, wa™,y.
■ ? ;[
If
I
398
THE CRISIS
11
" Ib he not ? " answered Tiefel, « then I will show you a
mistake. Ton recall last November he was ont to IBedafia
to inspect the camp there, and he sleeps in a little country
store where I am quartered. Now up gets your General Sher-
man in the middle of the night, — midnight, — and marches
up and down between the counters, and waves his arms.
*So,' says he, 'and so,' says he, 'Sterling Price will be
here, and Steele here, and this column will take that road,
and so-and-so's a damned fool. Is not that crazy? So he
walks up and down for three eternal hours. Says he,
•Pope has no business to be at Ostcrville, and Steele here
at Sedalia with his regiments all over the place. They must
both ^ into camp at La Mine River, and form brigades
and divisions, that the troops may be handled.' "
"If that's insanity," cried Stephen so strongly as to
surprise the little man, " then I wish we had more insane
generals. It just shows how a malicious rumor will spread.
What Sherman said about Pope's and Steele's forces is true
as Gospel, and if you ever took the trouble to look into
that situation, Tiefel, you would see it." And Stephen
brought down his mug on the table with a crash that made
the bystanders jump.
" Himmel I " exclaimed little Tiefel. But he spoke in
admiration.
It was not a month after that that Sherman's prophecy
of the quiet general who had slid down the bluff at Bel-
mont came true. The whole country hummed with Grant's
? raises. Moving with great swiftness and secrecy up the
'ennessee, in companv with the gunboats of Commodore
Foote, he had pierced the Confederate line at the veiy
point Sherman had indicated. Fort Henry had fallen, and
Grant was even then moving to besiege Donelson.
Mr. Brinsmade prepared to leave at once for the battle-
field, taking with him to Paducah physicians and nurses.
All day long the boat was loading with sanitary stores and
boxes of dainties for the wounded. It was muggy aud
wet — characteristic of that winter — as Stephen pushed
through the drays on the slippery levee to the landing.
He had with him a basket fails mother had put up. He
^m.
THE AUCTION .^
deolo that he n^n&oZ^sZ^'^'"^^ <"°^^
StepCT tt^^trir.^i-'l!: He p„„ed
WKi he, earnestly, "I haven't L.^^'^ '?'"°- "B™'."
y»ung Brinsmade at Camp J«£of ■?k'""! (?"» »«"<>
you are useful here. T sL 3^„l ^'^ *«" "•« that
to- I don't mean W^ , 'f • ^"P ' 8° '» ""'ms you have
feel that you SS r?,; C„"'l'''""*"'^- »"* "*«" yoa
-ln'j^o^rteX^^J'4*;.^*-"! liked the Uok .f effu-
If!
ililtJ
53 sa a ttm:
jmm^smsm^^M
CHAPTER VI
ELIPHALBT PLAYS HIS TRUMPS
Summer was come again. Through interminable days
the sun beat down upon the city; and at night the tor-
tured bricks flung back angrily the heat wi3i which he
had filled them. Great battles had been fought, and vast
armies were drawing breath for greater ones to come.
"Jinny," said the Colonel one day, "as we don't seem
to be much use in town, I reckon we may as well eo to
Glencoe. **
Virginia threw her arms around her father's neck. For
many months she had seen what the Colonel himself was
slow to comprehend —that his usefulness was gone. The
davs melted into weeks, and Sterling Price and his army
of liberation faUed to come. The vigilant Union general
and his a^es had long since closed all avenues to the
bouth. For, one fine morning toward the end of the
previous summer, when the Colonel was contemplating
a journey, he had read that none might leave the city
without a pass, whereupon he went hurriedly to the office
of the Provost Marshal. There he had found a number
of gentlemen in the same plight, each waving a pass made
out by the Provost Marshal's clerks, and waiting for that
officers signature. The Colonel also procured one of
these, and fell into line. The Marshal gazed at the crowd,
pulled oflf his coat, and readUy put his name to tbe passes
of several gentlemen going east. Next came Mr. Bub
Ballmgton, whom the Colonel knew, but pretended not to.
" Going to Springfield ? " asked the Marshal, genially.
" Yes, said Bub. "^
" Not very profitable to be a minute-man, eh ? " in the
same tone.
The Marshal signs his name, Mr. Ballington trying
S»:V
lP5^ W
ibe Provost MftniTioi _., ;®^ J"8t now."
?°^y in the office'^^^«,^^«d, sweetly. There were
It did not pay to Wh Z ^^""^ ^^^^d to laugh hut
WM one of GT *^^ ** "^'"^ P«°Ple. Colonel Cirvel
in the proclamation of martial i-
life less endurable than e^r ^n*"^^^^ '""ch to make
^f fif ated. and slaves set free Thti.^^ ^*^« property
oath to be taken bv all cif .w' P®?. *^®'e was a certain
guardians appointed over S.n^ ^"^ S?* ^^^ ^ ha ve
who swallowS this ZIL id *?J**°«; , There were many
Mr. Jacob Cluyme waa If^ 5®^®' '®^* ^y iU effect/
virtuous. It C noT ^Siud f^'"^'* Vf««4 very
virtuous. Mr TT/.«^ "Oufual for Mr. Cluvin« f^^Pi
^? it, bJJ'bdffi'caitel^U^^^^^^ -diSn VS!
fi^W pie, which he hTne^er ii^?r. ^*^« '^^^
That summer had worn r«^o, rf ^*^*^ **"t once.
I^d ^ves hot gasps X7:S' ^^jfr.'^"*- who turns
took the Arkansan just a Z^^^i J^ ^^ expired. It
to become weU enough t^ TL^I ?°^V¥°^»'« eart
He was not preciselvaSonf^^ *f * Northern prison
t^P^r^T "*1?hfe^^ -d he CtTo
and grateful, and wept when hiTL^. « ^® was admiring,
^nir^'*^/^ guard, LtteJ ^orlwi*^ *^^ *^** ^^"^
g^ia wept too. He had taken L^^^ P"^°- ^ir-
(who would have nothing to do^^!H S^*^ ^^«»> ^^e^ aunt
her occupation. She nor her f^f^ ^^' *°^ b»*^ given
his rouffh *ir1ao «* D " -"' '^^^ father never tirfid ^f uU^^
Wis departure was ahnnt ^if" *™*y*
F^ was about th« time when eu^pioions were
m
El'
'^hMbi
402
THE CRISIS
growme set. The favor had caused comment and trouble,
hence there was no hope of giving another sufferer the
same comfort. The cordon was drawn tighter. One of
the mjrsterious gentlemen who had been seen in the
yicmitv of Colonel Carvel's house was arrested on the
ferry, but he had contrived to be rid of the carpet-sack
m which certain precious letters were carried.
Throughout the winter, Mr. Hopper's visits to Locust
Street had continued at intervals of painful regularity.
It is not necessary to dwell upon his brilliant powers of
conversation, nor to repeat the platitudes which he re-
peated, for there was no significance in Mr. Hopper's tales,
not a particle. The Colonel had found that out. and was
thankful. His manners were better; his English de-
cidedly better.
It was for her father's sake, of course, that Virginia
bore with him. Such is the appointed lot of women.
She tried to be just, and it occurred to her that she had
never before been just. Again and again she repeated
to herself that Eliphalet's devotion to the Colonel at this
low ebb of his fortunes had something in it of which she
gd not suspect him. She had a class contempt for Mr.
Hopper as an uneducated Yankee and a person of com-
mercial ideals. But now he was showing virtues, — if
virtues they were, — and she tried to give him the benefit
of the doubt. With his great shrewdness and business
ability, why did he not take advantage of the many oppor-
tunities the war gave to make a fortune ? For Virginia
had of late been going to the store with the Colonel,— who
spent his mornings turning over piles of dusty papers, —
and Mr. Hopper had always been at his desk.
After this, Virginia even strove to be kind to him, but
It was uphill work. The front door never closed after
one of his visits that suspicion was not left behind. An-
tipathy would assert itself. Could it be that there was
a motive under all this plotting ? He struck her inevi-
tably as the kind who would be content to mine under-
pound to attain an end. The worst she could thmk of
him was that he wished to ingratiate himself now, in the
'.IS^K?:-:
.^.'fii'R.
^ BLIPHALET Pr,AT8 HIS XRHMPS ^
"SJ " ""worthy of her. *''• '"^ P«t even thi.
the j;^ '-O 'eH eo.peU«, to .peak .. he, f.^„ on
deserted yon long ago fw 8„^ „L?"'"8'"' he would w!
would not be fflttiZ ta thTS"*^"'''" P«>«toble. He
PlM» (or the budnele when ??/* **>■.»«»' day making
She remembered how^?v ^ ^1 " »™f-"
the top of hu pape*"" '^J he had «uied at her over
ToCrth'^S'^j''"»:^-"tea.id.
bn-ke out ta th^^oj"^ ^^I '^'^ «>cond summer riot,
"teStelhS/-^^^^^^^^^
toe office of tie Enirluh rvJnSS^^J "^ ™»ny soueht
M'JMty'e protection wire v«™T' "'"«<' ohums onT,
heads and scandal fXwy%5" "Vi *•■« '«"'• Broken
w^^ 7^^'^^ 'o the "^ wUh t^ r"^* *'■»«• "h»
d"M Sr- " - -ra^e^inlU-t^t ^^
^■^ '?> Sd "" ^« ■«" -»«». to fight for the
"F-ht f„7t1nou^« «?h'.fo^ t South ? " he asked.
^ Hopper fight . Y tkt rs"?u toS
f 1
i ■
f I f pi
^ lit
Uifl
X
fully
have
404
THE CRISIS
"I reckon not, too," said the Colonel, dryly.
For the following week curiosity prompted Virffinia to
take that walk with the Colonel. Mr. Hopper being still
absen^ she helped him to sort the papers — those grimy
reminders of a more prosperous time gone by. Often Mr.
Carvel would run across one which seemed to bring some
incident to his mind ; for he would drop it absently on
his desk, his hand seeking his chin, and remain for half an
hour lost in thought. VirginU would not disturb him.
Meanwhile there had been inquiries for Mr. Hopper.
The Colonel answered them aU truthfully — generally
with that dangerous suavity for which he was noted.
Twice a seedy man with a gnawed yellow mustache had
come m to ask Eliphalet's whereabouts. On the second
occasion this individual became importunate.
"You don't know nothin' about him, you say?" he
demanded. ''
"No," said the Colonel.
The man took a shuffle forward.
" My name's Ford," he said. " I 'low I kin 'lighten you
ft little.
"Good day, sir," said the Colonel.
" I guess vou'U like to hear what I've got to say."
"Ephum," said Mr. Carvel in his natural voice, "
this man out."
Mr. Ford slunk out without Ephum's assistance,
he half turned at the door, and shot back a look
frightened Virginia.
" Oh, Pa," she cried, in alarm, « what did he mean ? "
"I couldn't tell you, Jinny," he answered. But she
nohced that he was very thoughtful as they walked home.
The next morning Eliphalet had not returned, but a
corporal and guard were waiting to search the store for
him. The Colonel read the order, and invited them in
with hospitality. He even showed them the way upstairs,
and presently Virginia heard them all tramping overhead
among the bales. Her eye fell upon the paper they had
brought, which lay unfolded on her father's desk. It was
signed Stephen A, Brice, Enrolling Officer.
'show
But
that
P#
«.IPHAI,ET PWyg HIS TRCMP8
■1 liat very aftAnn 1 ^^
fleldj broide h„ father Ti""'P',''» '» 'he w^f .„j
AkI T ^"***® '»«' father tk *^, » ^'^ the wood- -^^
w teCX'o'15 £-^ '^crnToj S'^^^
house hiffh abovT ♦!, ?,*♦ *^«y would sit In fk ^'° ^«'
a corncob H.» " "'ways detested ninpa ]o„. "**'• The
, One afternoon when Vinn • °°"'''
K^"' £^^7S » 'Se^t! VJi-- Hop-
fi ^r 'r^ ' fet nW- ti'-r - »» *«.e
Avenue t^LT V»"'"«?» «nd sober creatPo? J ^'" *.""•
" How-dv X S"®' '*®"««- '**™ *«n
■ . I
! 1
i III
I
406
THE CRISIS
^W"'* grave him her hand limply. Her greetincf
would have frozen a man of ardent temperament. But it
was not preoiMly ardor that Eliphalet diowed. The girl
paused and examined him swiftly. There was sometlunc
m the man's air tcxlay.
** So you were not caught ? " she said.
Her words seemed to relieve some tension in him. He
laughed noiselessly.
"Jjust guess I wahn't."
"How did you escape?" she asked, looking at him
cunouslv. **
"Well, I dJd, first of all. You're considerable smart,
Miss Jinny, but I'll bet you can't tell me where I was.
now.
"I do not oare to know. The place might save you
again." *- o /
He showed his disappointment. " I cal'lated it might
interest you to know how I dodged the Sovereign State
of Missoun. General Halleck made an order that released
a man from enroUing on payment of ten dollars. I paid.
Then I was drafted into the Abe Lincoln Volunteers ; I
paid a substitute. And so here I be, exercising Ufe, and
bberty, and the pursuit of happiness."
" So you houffht vourself free ? " said Virginia. « If your
substitute ^ts killed, I suppose you will have cause for
congratulation."
Eliphalet laughed, and pulled down his cuffs. "That's
his lookout, I cal'late," said he. He glanced at the girl
in a way that made her vaguely uneasy. She turned
from him, back toward the summer house. Eliphalet's
eyes smouldered as they rested upon her figure. He took
a step forward.
"Miss Jinny? "he said.
"Yes?"
"I've heard considerable about the beauties of this
place. Would you mind showing me 'round a bit ? "
ViMfinia started. It was his tone now. Not since
that first evening in Locust Street had it taken on such
assurance. And yet she could not be impoUte to a guest.
.^^
«-"'HAI,ET PUV8 H,8 TRUMPS ^
Oh, Mr. Hopper ! " she cri«l .. m '""K "»«••
it tj
e«r ,t hi, air of bei J «t t J"" T" '""^-wd U,„
'I^i'* led. 5J:^[t,t^^^'» i»to ^ "^'"■'■".d path
you „ . »arr^'„/'4l^V"«■P't.teIy, "did I ,,„ ^^^^
'ho iSX'IC "^P"' i"" handkerchief to her f.
??dde4 wSd"Ci„''Sto'^,'«''»''. ^"^h"^' wi'
ill at ea«M» Ti,ro ^ ""^3^ lunnv as hp «t«^j i.
^'^ ^-""^y ■"»' •»" w^ni: 'tX fret'
in
i-^llm
1 i ■
1 1
lij
^TrWl-'
408
THE CRISIS
i^£Tu°®^^^^ creasing across from the buttons- his
face, fleshy and perspiring, showed purple veinL tod th«
« wT r^'^?^^ comicafiy, like a pig'J! ^ '
marred " Wn^„T '^""^i^V'^onsol late about getting
sTck «T In°f*"lM^' '^4^°S^ *^« '^^ bushes with hh
stick. "I don t cal'late to be a sentimental critter I'm
not much on high-sounding phrases, and such"wn«k b,S
I d give you my word I'd mate a good husUnd. " ^ ^"*
^^lease l^ careful of those roseS, Mr. Hopper."
"Beg pardon," said Eliphalet. He began to lose track
tt^ *1J^lr '^* ™ ^^V'^l/ '^Sn he ^ve of pLrt^rU
jfnnv tT5 ^ °**°'^^. ^^- ^'^i^ ^itEout a c^t, MUs
Jmnv I made up my mind I'd be a rich man before I left
it. If I was to die now, I'd have kept that promis? I'm
^fl te''ra' til '"''''' '^'' ^^' ^ muKoi^y i'n^
saying wnat i ve got, mind you. All in oronep fim^
I'm a pretty steady kind. I've stopped chew^r-l tW^
w^^^a time when I done that. A^n'd I donT&"nor
•j'^^^L" **^ ^®^3^ commendable, Mr. Hoooer " VirmnJo
said, stifling a rebeUious titter. " Su^ i?but IhfZ
you give up chewing ? " ^ ^ ^"^ "'^
"I am informed that the ladies are agamst it" sairf
^. Ltt*' ~ " dead against it. You wouX't like it S a
husband, now, v^ould you ? "
This time the laugh was not to be put down.
I confess I shouIdn'V she said.
took^otf'n^aLY^ttnr^^^^^^^ «^« ^^
thetan.'^^^ ^ ^''^ do J^ L^veTadXVon
the lady this seven years." ^ ^
lady r^*' "' """^"^ ' " '«''* Vi'Ki"*- "And the
"The lady," said EUphalet, bluntly, "ia ««. " H.
glaneed at her bewildered face^and went on «pfZ- " \^„
pleased me the first day I set eves on vn«f^tL ..
marrj-. I m plain, but my folks was good peopIe/TaeJ
*tmu
liUPHALET PLAVfl t.,=
,. He had stopiZ^ ^!?^- , ^ °°« «f the
^"^ caught hlrX 'f- •'*' *"*""» '^r,l "'•
'horn Kliphalnf l.''^ ^ "S'on btosb nf '. suminer
d««<l to CKr wSh"^ » deg«datfel'"|t^ .T^t,
»n<" she hiew ?Lf J "'»»'" the look on P^^k"?"^ "^
H«»tag^«d'&n'" "he cried.
^ou - won't- matrv m^ ?" 1!""'^ « <'«y
Oh, how dare yon Sr^ '^. ..''* **'''•
' "^ "" "■"■"»«> Virginia, he.
h
H
i
g -j
^•f
410
THE CRISIS
face burning with the shame of it. She was standing
with her hands behind her, her back against a ^eat
walnut trunk, the crusted branches of whicli hung over
the bluff. Even as he looked at her, Eliphalet lost his
head, and indiscretion entered his soul.
" You must I " he said hoarsely. " You must ! You've
got no notion of my money, I say."
"Ohl" she cried, "can't you understand? If you
owned the whole of California, I would not marry you."
Suddenly he became very cool. He slipped his hand
into a pocket, as one used to such a motion, and drew
out some papers.
"I cal'late you ain't got much idea of the situation,
Miss Carvel," ne said ; " the wheels have been a-turning
lately. You're poor, but I guess you don't know how
poor you are, — eh ? T < Colonel's a man of honor, ain't
he?"
For her life she could not have answered, — nor did she
even know why she stayed to listen.
" Well," he said, ** after all, there ain't much use in your
lookin* over them papers. A woman wouldn't know. I'll
tell you what they say : they say that if I choose, I am
Carvel & Company.'*
The little eyes receded, and he waited a moment, seem-
ingly to prolong a physical delight in the excitement and
suffering of a splendid creature. The girl was breathing
fast anddeep.
"I cal'late you despise me, don't you?" he went on,
as if that, too, gave him pleasure. " But I tell you the
Colonel's a beggar but for me. Go and ask him if I'm
lying. All you've got to do is to say you'll be my wife,
and I tear these notes in two. They go over the bluff."
(He made the motion with his hands.) " Carvel & Com-
pany's an old firm, — a respected firm. You wouldn't care
to see it go out of the family, I cal'late."
He paused again, triumphant. But she did none of the
thinc^s he expected. She said, simply: —
" Will you please follow me, Mr. Hopper ? "
And he followed her, — his shrewdness gone, for once.
v^-rwrr-^v-^
kT:r
ELiPHALET PtArs HIS mvm^ «t
was bent forward, as ThouXiS ^"^ ™d hi" BeJd
the two, he rose i™ctenTlf .JS**"'"'?-, ^I-™ h" "w
* »» she said " ia u * Ti
°»°J?«y from this ianl" """ *^** ^^^ i»»ve borrowed
had r^^rea'^Z'ro'^'JVf '^^^ ^^^^^ and his soul
that L knees sm^t^^^ofc ^jf ^^ him noCso
sun as into the Colone?fface InV".'^'« ^'°t« the
ha?d m the collar of El Set's „?' '*"^^ ^^ ^^^ a
pointing down the path. """P^**^* « °ew coat, the other
said steely. '%t ZZ t "f '' *^*^ ^«°«e' sir," he
you'll neve^r get jUu. You&w.'S?"V*' ^ "^^^'n
Mr. Hopper's g^t down the fla^f J^^'*"^ ^°""^' «r ^ "
of his own. It tas neilher a waS^nT \^ *° ^"^^'^tion
but a sort of sliding amble snll' ."°' * ^"^t* "o' a run,
mares. Singing inViThe^'"^^^.^ ;-«<'"te<i ^^ nigh?-
the eviction of Babcock frmn^^ . ^*'"*'"« exampli of
that the Colonel's buiwro^ ^^^ store, -the only^time
the small of h^lLk £^1^ ^T. ^^^«- And dow„ ^^
a pistol, and fea^d thi? a^^^^^^^^^^ ^«' the cr^k of
there any minute. Once outeW. t^t T^^^ ^ hored
'^^Ifving a trail of dust behind" h^\^' *^« ^^ite .
might have raised. Fear ifnf k- J***" *^at a wagon
to Tift his feet. ^ ^^°* ^'"^ ^«g8, but neglected
polled' ht^ltT^t^ttmy 'Td V^ ^^"^^^'' '^^^
shyly upward, saw a smile in the pIo ^"S^^^^ glancing
She smiled, too, and then the tear^ htH''^/^ ^'^ °»«»th^
Strange that the face wh;l • '^ ^'^ ^om her.
and male men lo^k grave tal° Sh^'^hered cowards
^ndern^^tendemL and^ir.^ V/ ^^ Jf^^
n
In
/ n
412
THE CRISIS
^^'f ^**W *° ^^^ *'"*^ *°*^ *^® sobbed against his shoulder,
"JiAny, didhe — ?"
«*Ye8 — "
"Liffe was right, and — and yon, Jinny — I should
never have trusted him. The sneak I "
Virginia raised her head. The sun was slanting in
yeUow bars through the branches of the great trees, and
a robm s note rose above the bass chorus of the from
In the pauses, as she listened, it seemed as if she could
hear the silver sound of the river over the pebbles far.
"Honey," said the Colonel, "I reckon we're just as
poor as white trash." *
Virgin m smiled through her tears.
"Honey," he said again, after a pause, "I must keen
my word and let him have the business."
She did not reproach him.
"There is a little left, a very little,"
slowly, painfully. « I thank God that it is
left you by Becky — by your mother. It Is in a raUroad
company in New York, and safe. Jinny."
"Oh, Pa, you know that I do not care," she cried. " It
shall be yours and mine together. And we shall live out
here and be happy."
But she glanced anxiously at hhn nevertheless. He
was in his famUiar posture of thought, his legs slightly
. apart, his felt hat pushed back, stroking his goatee. But
his clear gray eyes were troubled as they sought hers, and
she put hei- hand to her breast.
" Virginia," he said, " I fought for my country once, and
I reckon I m some use yet awhile. It isn't right that I
should idle here, while the South needs me. Your Uncle
Daniel is fifty-eight, and Colonel of a Pennsylvania reel-
ment — Jmnjr, I have to go."
Virginia said nothing. It was in her blood as well as
his. The Colonel had left his young wife, to fight in
Mexico ; he had come home to lay flowers on her grave. She
knew that he thought of this ; and, too, that his heart was
he continued
yours. It was
airHALET PLAV8 HIS TECMP8 «,
rent at leavinjr her «8».« ^ »
„ "Jinny," Jd the*6Xd S*,'*''' <"■ «>« weate™ hj^,™
go to your Aunt Lim.n if ^''?° ^o" wiU have t
fond of you, and wmCaluC" "/?t »«ni«l He i2
the war is over AnJ t "".""ne in Calvert Hoiiiu ^L
I »on't pry Llo y^ur hL^1°" '"""/f «« I Wrtott"
down into a good man." '' "^ ^ '»''°™ he wiU quiei
ViiSrmia did not answer hnf. vj
hand and held its flnZs^'o«kLT^i.^°".' '»' h" father's
fhing,intoher^lit«|iS™L"'l^H;^''» «>' a few
^ --»e%H^tShf-rt.-«,g.i:.t
5,/fere^rhi^^.;.'"t^.>JJr»h^ at the «.t.
The South had olaimed Cat C '"'^ "^ *^* ^■
,1
■ f .
• s i]
CHAPTER VII
WITH THE ABMIBS OP THE WEST
We are at Memphis, — for a while, — and the Christ-
mas season is approaching once more. And yet we
must remember that war recognizes no Christmas, nor
Sunday, nor holiday. The brown river, excited by rains,
whirled seaward between his banks of yellow clay. Now
the weather was crisp and cold, now hazy and depress-
ing, and again a downpour. Memphis had never seen
such activity. A spirit possessed the place, a restless
spirit called William T. Sherman. He prodded Memphis
and laid violent hold of her. She groaned, protested,
turned over, and woke up, peopled by a new people.
When these walked, they ran, and they wore a blue
uniform. They spoke rapidly and were impatient. Rain
nor heat nor tempest kept them in. And yet they joked,
and Memphis laughed (what was left of her), and recog-
nized a bond of feUowship. The General joked, and the
Colonels and the Commissary and the doctors, — down to
the sutlers and teamsters and the salt tars under Porter,
who cursed the dishwater Mississippi, and also a man
named Eads, who had built the new-fangled iron boxes
officiaUy known as gunboats. The like of these had
never before been seen in the waters under the earth.
The loyal citizens— loyal to the South — had been
given permission to leave the city. The General told
the assistant quartermaster to hire their houses and
slaves for the benefit of the Federal Government. Like-
wiTO he laid down certain laws to the Memphis papers
defining treason. He gave out his mind freely to that
other army of occupation, the army of speculation, that
flocked thither with permit* to trade in cotton. The
414
w^. :^'-^?E^
WI.H TH. .KMIKS 0. THK WK8T ««
speculators eave thfi r^r.t ^
»o the ^^ i?S.""' •'«"«' nothing, CeU.i"? 'i**'"
^i.£hS£ f^^rfe^^? ^°^"
"■■^Sh? r,/"- '"' '^°''''*~^ -»nid be
« was a queer
^li
Itii Ij
il;
til
416
THE CRISIS
Christmas Day indeed, bright and warm ; no snow, no
turkeys nor mince pies, no wine, but just hardtack and
bacon and foaming brown water.
On the morrow the ill-assorted fleet struggled up the
sluggish Yazoo, past impenetrable forests where the
cypress clutched at the keels, past long-deserted cotton-
fields, until it came at last to the black ruins of a home.
In due time the ^rreat army was landed. It spread out
by brigade and division and regiment and company, thr
men splashing and paddling through the Chickasaw am.
the swamps toward the blufifs. The Parrotto began to
roar. A certain regiment, boldly led, crossed the bayou
at a narrow place and swept resistless across the sodden
fields to where the bank was steepest. The fire from the
batten^ scorched the hair of their heads. But there they
stayea, scooping out the yellow clay with torn hands,
while the Parrotts, with lowered muzzles, ploughed the
slope with shells. There they stayed, while the blue
lines quivered and fell back through the forests on that
short winter's afternoon, dragging t^iir wounded from
the stagnant waters. But many were left to die in
agonv in the solitude.
Like a tall emblem of energy. General Sherman stood
watching the attack and repul^ his eyes ever alert. He
{Mtid no heed to the shells which tore the limbs from the
trees about him, or sent the swamp water in thick spray
over his staff. Now and again a sharp word broke from
his lips, a forceful home thrust at one of the leaders of
his columns.
** What regiment stayed under the bank ? *'
** Sixth Missouri, General," said an aide, promptly.
The General sat late in vhe .Admiral's gunboat that
night, but when he returned to his cabin in the Forest
QucuTiy he called for a list of officers of the Sixth Missouri.
His finger slipping down the roll paused at a name among
the new second lieutenants.
" Did the boys get back ? " he asked.
** Yes, General, when it fell dark."
** Let me see the (msualties, — quick."
"^ ^«>= ABHIE8 OP THE WEST 4,,
look m hi, face that Wed ?n , "' '*i<'''"'- He had .
tiTh J'"* ""I '»^X ci'in^d*^ that might 0^
w'th the .Meomplishnient of an „5**. nothing, commped
from the city, on the pastv m^£^j ^"•»« the river
»e« dumped Shermaff Snt '"'* i""" '*'«'» •»»"
bf„H hW'"*' that the Sol ™" r""'' "> *«1«
bend of the Mississippi below h„ ""?"" "n™ at the
the batteries. Day fn and I^^* °»?"^' ""t of reach of
and men. Sawin^off a^l^^ T "»y '"bored, officew
Poiaonou, «naItesTy1U"r£,r?r '^ """^f' knSn^
nver roee and rose and^ 3 '■?« ''!™<=hes, while Sf
under their tent flies anrt^. ""* ""^ ""Pt by inches
th^^«.t^f m„„,.„^ tfe batterliTt-te Sc?^?
Witt the'g^/ofe ww"^»""»^ "■^- uniforms
'rVrA™''' "-^k^^ theTe^s^""^ T "K'i^
J?* Y'^^hure side of the river »mK^, ?P*.*"°n "to
the air. To be sure H,« .. ?" hailed with cans in
?'«andthesn.CUretobeS« "'.""'"'' "kowSftl^e
hkely to be a littlefietZ^ TK '"*' '^^ ^ut there wZ
was to stay watched Sf-^J' «f of the corps thM
'"^r' '"«-""'«■'>''- --hatting against the
ml
M.i
418
THE CRISIS
t
If
boughs of oak and cottonwood, and snapping the -railing
vmee. Some other regiments went by another muti.
The ironclads, followed in hot haste by General Sherman
in a navy tu^, had gone ahead, and were even then shov-
ing with their noses great trunks of trees in their eaffer-
ness to get behind the Rebels. The Missouri regiment
spread out along the waters, and were soon waist deep,
hewing a path for the heavier transnorts to come. Pres-
ently the General came back to a plantation half under
water, where Black Bayou joins Deer Creek, to hurry the
work in cleaning out that Bayou. The light transports
meanwhile were bringing up more troops from a second
detachment. All through the Friday the navy great
guns were heard booming in the distance, growing quicker
and quicker, untU the quivering air shook the hanging
things m that vast jungle. Saws stopped, and axes were
poised over shoulders, and many times that day the Gen-
eral lifted his head anxiously. As he sat down in the
evening in a slave cabin redolent with com pone and
bacon, the sound still hovered among the trees and rolled
along the still waters.
The General slept lightly. It was three o'clock Satur-
day morning when the sharp challenge of a sentry broke
the silence. A negro, white eyed, bedrwrgled, and muddy,
stood in the candle light under the charge of a youni?
lieutenant. The officer saluted, and handed the Gener2
a roll of tobacco.
" I found this man in the swamp, sir. He has a mes-
sage from the Admiral — "
The General tore open the roll and took from it a piece
of tissue paper which he spread out and held under the
candle. He turned to a staflF officer who had jumped from
his bed and was hurrVing into his coat.
" Porter^s surrounded?' he said. The order came in a
flash. " Kilby Smith and all men here across creek to
relief at once. I'll take canoe through bayou to Hill's
and hurry reenforcements."
The staff officer paused, his hand on the latch of the
door.
^H THE ABMIE8 OF THE WEST ^9
futth" ftol^Srtrr T ^» *»»-u|rh the pain
hi8 canoe, winding 1^^^!^?,^ «^ She4an in
nnth, risking hi Jfo^f;^^«^th^^^^ black lab^?
Th'^^to *^^ »"«boat8 ^'^ ""'^^^ ^ brought to
by ^eL:iS!r^i:'^^J^^ ^f ;«W most g„,phieally
on the bavou and marchS^tS!^*^^^^ "P Jbe min at worf
hitched tie barge to a ^vy tui. \* '^ ^'»«' bow he
transport with a fresh lo^Tf t^l^.^""^ b« '"e* the little
?.'^°*» 'eply when the (Sinera ^£,^A^*P^»'> E«jah
him. "As long as the bl? k i^^ '^ be would folW
amoke-pipea until they went hv fK?^^*'*^""®'®** at the
house fell like a pact ^{LrL ^ .^"^ '^^ the pilot!
had gone three miCand a^f ^"'^^ ^?^^ beforeTey
fJ^«"°J5. disembarked, a lighS cJS^'*. *be indomitabll
Jf * !*»«. 'na'ch through tficW ^/^^ '° bis hand, and
deep backwater, wherf the ^ttl^l '""^P »°d b^ast.
their drums on their heaT At li^?"'^^ boys carried
come to some Indian momS- *k ^!°S^b, when they were
»ho rode „p to meettt^GSj"'':??'? '^e Colonel
Those clumsy ironclads of hU fwl "«» landlocked.
>"« '■»«. ma the Gene»i: ig^ve •«„ „„t."
l-i
420
THE CRISIS
The force swept forward, with the three picket com-
panies in the swamp on the right. And prientlV thev
came m sight of the shapeless Ironclad. ^^ITtheS^ fSS^
nels belching smoke, a most remarkable spectacle. How
t^e'^Ir ^ them there was ce of the miracles of
f hJi^f " ^oUowed one of a thousand memorable incidents in
nnVh^»^' a memonible man. General Sherman, jumping
Z\t r}^^ ?f " ."^^'^^y *»°"^ ^«t«~d through thf
Sji .:. A^ ^^^ bluejackets, at sight of that famUilr fig!
ure. roared out a cheer that might have shaken the droM
from the wet boughs. The Admiral and the Oenend .^
«g?Sv°"'\^^'^''t'^'*^5"^°^"I^- AndtheCoffl
«tutely remarked, as he rode up in answer to a summon!
that If Porter was the only man whose daring couW ha^
pushed a fleet to that position, Sherman was Snly the
only man who could have got him out of it ™""*^ ^^^
" Colonel," said the General, ♦^that move was well exe-
cuted, sir. Admirtd did the Rebs put a buult through
your rum casks ? We're just a littU tired. And no^»
ItJ^^i:- t'^^'''« ?"" ^^^ ^«1°°«1 ^»»«° each ^ a
?i^K ^ h" hand, "who was in command of that company
regiur."*^^ '" ^''^^P- "^ ^*°*"«^ ^^^"^ "^e »
" He's a second Ueutenant, General, in the Sixth Mis-
?.uL. Captem wounded at Hindman, and flrst lieutenant
feu out down below. HU name is Brice, I believe."
" I thought so," said the General.
Some few days afterward, when the troops were slop-
ping around a^m at Young's Point, opposite VicksVrgfa
gentleman arrived on a boat from St. iZL. He paused^in
fltn ir *^ ^""Tl V^^ *^'**'^™ »°d astonishment the
flood of waters behind it, and then asked an officer the
way to General Sherman's headquarters. ThTofficer who
was greatly impressed by the ^ntleman's looks/led C
at once to a trestle bridge which spanned the distance fn>n
\nttT ^\«^«' t^ fl««d to a house up to its first flooi'
m the backwaters. The orderly saluted
" Who shall I say, sir ? ♦'
^™ THB XHMIES OK THK WEST .«
g.^'lij^""'"'" '-"""n^., .» the «e„„e^, „,.„
oe
*;!"u. JriMm.,!,. if ,f ,,, ^,, _ . -- ~- urant you're
'", wedall have been
dead of few- ,„">;,/"■'
Jfou surprise me," aaid Mr Rr,„ .
Mr. Bnnsniade. «He has
f.rf
111
[I jfij
h 1
422
THE CRISIS
always seemed inoffensive, and I believe he is a prominent
member of one of our churches."
" I guess that's so," answered the General, dryly. " If
ever I set eyes on him again, he's clapped into the guard-
house. He knows it, too."
"Speakinff of St. Louis, General," said Mr. Brinsmade,
presentiy, "have you ever heard of Stephen Brice? He
Jomed vour army last autumn. You may remember talk-
ing to him one evening at my house."
" S®\o°« of ™y boys I " cried the General. " Remem-
ber him ? Guess I do I " He paused on the very brink of
relating again the incident at Camp Jackson, when Ste-
p^n had saved the life of Mr. Brinsmade's own son.
" Brmsmade, for three days I've had it on my mind to
send frr iJiat boy. I'll have him at headquarters now.
1 like him, cned General Sherman, with tone and gesture
there was no mistaking. And good Mr. Brinsmade, who
liked Stephen, too, rejoiced at the story he would have to
tell the widow. *♦ He has spirit, Brinsmade. I told him
to * t me know when he was ready to go to war. No such
* ^* °®^®' °*"® °®*' ™®* '^"^ fi"* *hing I hear
of han is that he's digging holes in the clay of CWckasaw
Bluff, and his cap is fanned off by the blast of a Parrott
SIX feet above his head. Next thing he turns up on that
little expedition we took to get Porter to sea again.
When we got to the gunboats, there was Brice's company
on the flank. He handled those men 8urprisingl3% sir —
surprisingly. I shouldn't have blamed the boy if one or
two Rebs got by him. But no, he swept the place clean."
By this time they had come back to the bridge leading to
headauarters, and the General beckoned quickly to an
orderly. "^
" My compUments to Lieutenant Stephen Brice, Sixth
Missoun, and ask him to report here at once. At once,
you understand I "
"Yes, General."
It so haopened that Mr. Brice's company were swing-
ing axes when the orderly arrived, and Mr. Brice had an
axe himself, and was up to his boot tops in yellow mud.
WITH THE ARMIES OF THE WEST ,23
of the bi/nwrnlhe™ ^e^l^!" P»?"<' «' the doorway
were Mattered aboTsmotin^ „hn ' .*u* ""ff*™"' »ta^
reflected from the riimlitw. . '*'''*• "le sunlieht
the ceiling. At l*e S "f tr"' '"'^'^' •'■"'•^d o^
^ h« uniform, «a always a trir" "»' "™«™' Sher"
h»t mth the gold braid Ztntod/*""'^-. «'» ""'t felt
booted and spurred, were^^** ='*/!"'' '".^ •>« '««t.
Englishman who sought the^;.i f *" ."»°''«'' «>« the
in Sherman. * ' typical American found him
GeneXv'olj^^'j^.^'^X^ht ^Pl'"'' "ttention was the
used in telling k~ Th « *:™\*^' '? '^'' koy^^at he
"Sin gives vou a LJJ^ ®*^® "" closing words • —
Oenerallf a mn saysf ^ W^, W^ ^^^i' bov| after' a^
my fun just this once ' T& ti^-' ^-1'^ ^"' ^'» have
a friend of youw." ^ome over We, sir. Here's
otephen made his wav *^ *k r^
-mud from he«l to h«l"> °*''°" "P"" », Brinsmade,
om^rrugh^ir mTIL'" "J """""f "»' the stair
took Stephin's Cd. """"»•<'« »milel as he rcee „3
:4 tTat'arklSZe^J'ta S^^'V^" •»'<"'- '
"Your mother will he r«V«; 7 . endeared him to all
-"1 be Rlad to Wrta S? her^^.,r?f °J! ^^^'^o"
Stephen inquired fw Mr« R • "^^i^' ^^ephen."
" They are well «iro«^: Brinsmade and Anne
little bo^x wLcTyCC^he'TLf "?'S ''^ ^^H to a
jn a box of fine ci^i;t>„fh k i"1^ ^»»We Pu?
tobacco." **^' although he deplores the use of
iU
'iiM^^^;W^^
•':?^^
424
THE CRISIS
" And the Judse, Mr. Brinnmade — how is he ? **
The £[ood gentleman's face fell.
" He IS ailing, sir, it grieves me to say. He is in bed,
sir. But he is ably looked after. Your mother desired
to have him moved to her house, but he is difficult to stir
from his wa3rs, and he would not leave his little room.
He is ably nursed. We have got old Nancy, Hester's
mother, to stay with him at night, and Mrs. Brice divides
the day with Miss Jinnv Carvel, who comes in from Belle-
garde every afternoon.'^
" Miss Carvel ? " exclaimed Stephen, wondering if he
heard aright. And at the mention of her na^.o he tingled.
"None other, sir," answered Mr. Brinsmade. "She
has been much honored for it. You may remember that
the Judge was a close friend of her father's before the
war. And — well, they quarrelled, sir. The Colonel
went South', you know.''^
"When — when was the Judge taken ill, Mr. Brins
made?" Stephen asked. The thought of Virginia and
his mother caring for him together was strangely sweet.
" Two days before I left, sir, Dr. Polk had warned him
not to do so much. But the Doctor tells me that he can
see no dangerous symptoms."
Stephen inquired now of Mr. Brinsmade how long he
was to be with them.
" I am going on 'to the other camps this afternoon,"
said he. " But I should like a glimpse of your quarters,
Stephen, if you will invite me. Your mother would like
a careful account of you, and Mr. Whipple, and — your
many friends in St. Louis."
"You will find my tent a little wet, sir," replied
Stephen, touched.
Here the General, who had been sitting by watching
them with a very curious expression, spoke up.
" That's hospitality for you, Brinsmade ! "
Stephen and Mr. Brinsmade made their way across
plank and bridge to Stephen's tent, and his mess servant
arrived in due time with the package from home. But
presently, while they sat talking of many things, the can-
~-^=pi
WITH THE ARMIES OF THE WEST 42S
confusedly. cracKer box. Stephen rose
fe«t. Where aTth-^^S^^'MrB """" »» '« ">«
ing about?" * " **'• Bnnsniade ww talk-
Stephen opened the box with alacritv Th. n
chose one and lighted it "'""'ty- Ihe General
" Don't smoke, eh ? " he inquired.
IVe^V'tteA'^erV'* 'ff-'™''. ""■"i «t down.
I decided to eoSeloS^dV^ ^k iT""""'"? >"»■• ''"'
That isn't strictly «cTrfiZt^lhiT'''V"\.>'°'' ""'•
longl*'^ *««*" » <»™ft. «'. and 1 couldn't stod it any
thrEirGu:.s"i?'j re«L'r" ^t:i^\ ^"^ -««' -
made telle me To^were SuUn' "*'"• ^"^ ^'- «"»«-
your rank in tl^eHor G^al V"""'^ "»^''- *'"" *"
"Lieutenant colonel, air."
" And what are you here ? "
"c^Mn^^ih"' f- u ^ -"'* "■»' ">«' "»« different "
tena^f^* *'"'y ''° "»'*«' '» y" «>«, a e^^ond-lieu-
^^StepW did not reply at once. Mr, Bri,«made .poke
"They offered him a lieutenant-colonelcy."
si,5, ^?,"?' ^^^ *^« capture of Fort Henrv ? "
Stephen smiled. " Verv well a*>n««.i ♦• i "^Y?^^/
General Sherman I.aSCw;^""'"'' ""^ '^P'"^'
And do you remember I said to
1 1
i
1
vou.
Bi
ice, whcii
4M
THE CRISIS
you set ready to come into this war, let me know. ' Whv
didn't vou d© it ? " ^
Stephen thou^^ht a minute. Then he aaid gravely, but
witlyust a suspicion of humor about his moutu : —
** General, if I had done that, you wouldn't be here in
my tent to-day."
Like lightning the General was on his feet, his hand
on Miephen's shoulder.
''^y gad, sir," he cried, delighted, "so I wouldn't."
i*M
CHAPTER VIII
A STBAnes MEKTIKO
The ttory of the capture of Vicksburir is th« aM «m
story of failure turned fnto success, br wSch m^n ? ' ^
immortal. It involves the historTof a ^i^rJTtl ' ""^^^
retraced his steps, who cared nXrfo^S,^^^
wisdom of St PrZtnt tlF^' ^,°? ^^ 8^'*^* «^ th«
lo^L^^ the landW beW, .„d the cutW
neid cigar that seemed to ^o with it <5f«T.K«. «'™iy
~ "' ^'"'^'2^' "" ^***" ^^^ ciianged a
rl^
»
f.
4»
THE CRISIS
whit. Motionless, he watched corps after corps splash by,
h'eaid tteiT^faSite':' "''*"''^* ""^ «"^« "^^ ^^ ^* ^'
At length the army came up behind the city to a place
primeval, where the face of the earth was sore and tor-
tured, worn into deep jforges by the rains, and flunir up
n great mounds. ^tnW of the green magnolias anS
the cane, the banks of clay stood forth in hideous yellow
trunk that still stood tottering on the edge of a bank.
Its pitiful withered roots reaching out below. The May
weather was already sickly hot. ^
First of all there was a murderous assault, and a still
more murderous repulse. Three times the besieirers
charged, sank their color staffs into the redoubts, and three
times were driven back. Then the blue army settled into
the earth and folded into the ravines. Three days in that
narrow space between the Unes lay the dead and wounded
suffering untold aeonies in the moist heat. Then came a
livT ^ ^'"**^ "^^ ^^** ^" ^®^* °^ *^®
.u^xl ^.^.™ed city had no rest. Like clockwork from
the Missuwppi s banks beyond came the boom and shriek
of the coehorns on the barges. The big shells huni?
for an instaat m the air like birds of prey, and then could
be seen swooping down here and there, while now and
anon a shaft of smoke rose straight to the sky, the black
monument of a Lome.
Here was work in the trenches, digging the flying sap
by night and deepiming it by day, for officers and men
alike. I^rom heaven a host of blue ants could be seen
toiling m zigzags forward, ever forward, along the rude
water-cuts and through the hill«. A waiting carrion from
her vantage point on high marked one spot and then an-
other where the blue ants disappeared, and again one by
one came out of the burrow to hurry down the trench, --
each witli hig ball of clay.
In due time the rincr of metri m4 sepulchred voices
rumbled in the ground beneath the besieged. Counter-
A STRANGE MEETING 4jg
^m^^STrTr^r^'ri'L"'"' »«-"' -'" of earth
:• Hello, Reb!" " JSnrdyT yS* '^^TJi.''''. ™'*- I'w«
•ng, the one for tobacco J5^.L .?°*\»«i«» were etarv-
'»«>''• Theae n,J^JZl^,Jl''V '" '»«'tack and
'r~PI»d in the VioffiS ™^ .^ «««. "ometim™
»'de of a homely gteenvM^^, F?"^ °" *•>• "Wte
amenitiea were fnauWUn ^S^ ^*' "i""" «»«« otW
and diella with ligh^ hJ^^IT^'' "'"> "rown
of aoquaint«,o«, Sf the^t tefl. °T" °" "» ^^'
wooden coehorna h«,ped X ^ "'"' "P«<"' '«■»
tMte^Sof'^f„lr^C--o„^ a .ie^)
Not an officer or private if Th J v^u"i? ""^« »"eat.
does not remember Kth of Jun^ln ♦k'^."""'«« ^J»o
in an afternoon of pitilei heat 4ir^.,*^\^°"^ «^ three
mes wound into posftiolTbLhird the ^T,^^^^^^ Wue
hid them from the enemy, CO led ifml 5 ^**'"^" ^hich
the towering redoubt on the ji'"!^? «^"^« ^hen
neavenwarda. Bv commL « ''^^'fson road should rise
»d night w«. hSwrSTe^rth S^r?f '"*"' <" ^.y
StUlneea cloeed around tL „?•• v*^*"""*" were eUent.
more, but not theSei^u h^^J"""* <?' ^'^V once
A^U to L. neaf. fu^ X'^^tuoTo.rcr^,
diif^dTiJotTC^,^:;,:,^^^ ^,-'-
the sky, through the film of th^Sli^ upturned faces. In
scurried pois^, and firaLHfc;!::^^' 'f'^' ^^^^ ^^^
less trunks and shapeless ^te of w^ i • ^^^ *"^ ^'^^d-
Iiad the dust settlecfwhen thf «. '^***^_f°<* »«>ii. Scarcely
thousand bayonei and a hundi^dTh^f "^^ "»^* «^ «fty
across the crater'sldire P».fK^ ^^®/^* ^«^ shrieking
dust ! Men who iXro^'that ^r'^ "^'"' *"^ ^"^^ ^^
noon died i,. torture u.t^eX J' Ttiel of?^^^^^^ *^*«^-
- wid so the hole was filled ***'*^ comrades,
il
430
THE CRISIS
An upright cannon nurks the spot where a scrawny oak
once stood on a scarred and baked hillside, outside of the
Confederate lines at Vicksbuiv. Under the scanty diade
of that tree, on the eve of the Nation's birthday, stood
two men who tvpified the future and the past. As at
Donelson, a trick of Fortune's had delivered one comrade
of old into the hands of another. Now she chose to
kiss the one upon whom she had heaped obscurity and
poverty and contumelv. He had oeasea to think or care
about Fortune. And hence, being bom a woman, she
favored him.
The two armies watched and were still. They noted
the friendly greeting of old comrades, and after that they
saw the self-contained Northerner biting his cigar, as one
to whom the pleasantries of life were past and gone. The
South saw her General turn on his heel. The bitterness
of his life was come. Both sides honored him for the
fight he had made. But war does not reward a man
according to his deserts.
The next day — the day our sundered nation was born —
Vicksburg surrendered : the obstinate man with the mighty
force had conquered. See the grav regiments marching
silently in the tropic heat into the folds of that blue army
whose grip has choked them at last. Silently, too, the blue
coats stand, pity and admiration on the brick-red faces.
The arms are stacked and surrendered, officers and men
are to be paroUed when the counting is finished. The
formations melt away, and those who for months have
sought each other's lives are grouped in friendly talk. The
coarse army brend is drawn eagerlv from the knapsacks
of the blue, smoke quivers above a nundred fires, and the
smell of frying bacon brings a wistful look into the gaunt
faces. Tears stand in the eyes of many a man as he eats
the food his Yankee brothers have given him on the birth-
dayof their country.
Within the city it is the same. Stephen Brice, now a
captain in General Lauman's brigade, sees with thanks-
giving the stars and stripes flutter from the dome of that
court-house wiiich he had so long watched from afar.
A STEANGE MEETINO 431
floor, i. „ or/ffipo^dtvz tet°i iSii^
«d the Me^Ji'jh-;;,^; ^Me'To^f" Si "" ^
one of the navy's shells °^ °*"°^ '®'"
weeping woman came out and^ifK k ^'*"*® °P«°«**' »
federatS Colonel oTcavalrv rln ^V, ''^ ? **^^ C°°-
arm, he escorted her wfar^ai t£ iSf^^ fir;ving her his
bade him good by witrmuch^feSfni "'^^^^ ?»^«
movement he drew some monev frnm i,; i ? *™P"J«ve
upon her, and starteThuSfy I^av Lrh^'"* '^^' ''
listen to her thanks Siinh ««/»? ^ ^*' "® ^^S^^ not
actually bruirfeo S^^nT^t ^13^".^!:^ '"
tree, he .topped and bowed. "twd-ng be.ide a
paM^^S."'' ""■•" ■•• ""• """ritely. »I beg your
fo;gtt«'f;V^;'^ay'^^--»"'"'f= "it wa.»y fault
.in^°Lh '^'•h ^"•r^ *••» <«'^»'7 Colonel; "mv clum-
week we'd been £?oed re^T^'^ ''^'' """• » ■"•«"«
seemed to be all breadth, like a MnT Hi. .k i5 ^°''""'
incredible. The fara wm JL^?^!l" u"" "lioulder. were
^tt^^ii'ew;™'' "^ """ «'«?•'«■'•"« -med i^^nit
qn:-f'£t''wt^"'h^^£i|; Steph^.'. r«.k. "we won't
added, with a twi^klt-^^.^been^^Ib'tlLnre^:
JS
THE CRISIS
like ten yoalu since I saw the wife and children down in
the Palmetto State. I can't offer you a dinner, seh.
We've eaten all the mules and rats and sugar cane in
town.'* (His eye seemed to interpolate that Stephen
wouldn't M there otherwise.) **But I can offer you
something choicer than you have in the No'th."
Whereupon he drew from his hip a dented silver flask.
The Colonel remarked that Stephen's eyes fell on the
coat of arms.
**Prope'ty of my grandfather, seh, of Washington's
Army. My name is Jennison, — Catesby Jennison, at
your service, seh," he said. ^ You have the advantage
of me, Captain."
** My name is Brice," said Stephen.
The big Colonel bowed decorously, held out a great,
wide hand, and thereupon unscrewed the JBask. Now
Stephen had never learned to like straight whiskey, but he
tooK down his share without a face. The exploit seemed
to please the Colonel, who, after he likewise had done
the liquor justice, screwed on the lid with ceremony,
offered Stephen his arm with still greater ceremony, and
they walkea off down the street together. Stephen drew
from his pocket several of Judge Whipple's cigars, to
which his new friend gave unqualified praise.
On every hand Vicksburg showed signs of hard usage.
Houses with gaping chasms in their sides, others mere
heaps of black ruins ; great trees felled, cabins demol-
ish^ and here and there the sidewalk ploughed across
from curb to fence.
** Lordy," exclaimed the Colonel. " Lordy I how my
ears ache since your damned coehorns have stopped. The
noise got to be silence with us, seh, and yesteroay I reck-
oned K hundred volcanoes had bust. Tell me," said he :
" wfl ;r the redoubt over the Jackson road was blown up,
they said a nigger came down in your lines alive. Is
that so?"
** Yes," said Stephen, smiling ; '^ he struck near the place
where my company was stationed. His head ached a bit.
That seemed to be all,"
^^r^'^m
A STRANGE MEETING 433
didv^^^^^^^^^ .How
hJ^uZi)' "^'^^^^^ -^^PP^' -<J ^ve hun«,lf up to
" ^meYn^^r^^^^^ ?-u,h •• he cried.
.hoUhe wad in a large!Sr„,Skot " " '"'P^^'^^' »»d
"Explosive SulTc^^^^J^!^*^^'^"^^ '
do to get percussion caM n« ' ^V"^** *" ^« oould
percu Jlon Spe, seh ? X« o^ o/r°nffi^°^'' ^^^ '^^ ?<>*
8eh — floated down the M^jL- • °®?«" - dare^ie vila,
made his way Uck with tiTi T f\^''«^' O"* fellow
pride of ou/ VicksburVj^y"°1r^^ 1^^?°^/ »«'• thT
chiva^rouB man, a forlofnS Jn Th^ -^u!"'^^' ^
the batteries he and gome otKr^ta^* ^^ ""'^^^ ^o" ™n
in skiffs - in skiffs, S wv rn ?T* *^ T" «de
in De Soto, that wt^ght ^ ;ZT±'^^ !'% *? *he houses
back in the face of our own^tteriT a^""^ '^«" ^« ««™«
man was wounded by a trick of fe^^*"^ y«ur aruns. That
(rom your coehorns whU^ eLSnl fi'- J* ^"«^d ^^t of shell
He's pretty low,now3rf!j&. 5 j^*?",®' ^" Vicksburg.
" Where^is hlr^'^L!^Al: »^ded the Colonel, sadlf
to see the man. ^^'"^"d^d Stephen, fired with a desiw
"PeS:S; y;fm!g\rh:\^rj^^^ "^'K^^ ^^^Colonel.
continuS thoughtfully « T^ ^o something for him," he
doctor says hefl puU Sm»imh ff k ^ *** "^^ ^"^ ^«- The
air and gLi ?c^" te^^^," ^ ?'* ^'^ "»d ^
»r;p. /you ain't fooSfgT^e s^f ''^ * arm in a fK
;;lndeed I am not," safd Stephen
^onjL^liX^^^T^^^^ - ^^ ^-"> " 70U
t JtKLtrg^^o^^^^^ eon.
-e . a sort of gorge^wS^ tCit^^eVr^^^bSt:^!?: ^^^
'II
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APPLIED ItVMGE In c
1653 Eait Main Strwt
Rochmter. New York U609 USA
(716) 482 - 0300 - Phone
(716) 288 -5989 -Fox
434
THE CRISIS
banks of clay. There Stephen saw the magazines which
the Confederates had dug out, and of which he had heard.
But he saw something, too, of which he had not heard.
Colonel Catesby Jennison stopped before an open door-
way in the yellow bank and knocked. A woman's voice
called softly to him to enter.
They went into a room hewn out of the solid clay. Car-
pet was stretched on the floof , paper was on the walls, and
even a picture. There was a little window cut like a port
in a prison cell, and under it a bed, beside which a middle-
aged Ibdy was seated. She had a kindly face which seemed
to Stephen a little pinched as she turned to them with a
gesture of restraint. She pointed to the bed, where a
sheet lay limply over the angles of a wasted frame. The
face was to the wall.
" Hush ! '* said the lady, " it is the first time in two
days that he has slept."
But the sleeper stirred wearily, and woke with a start.
He turned over. The face, so yellow and peaked, was of
the type that grows even more handsoiiie in sickness, and
in the great fever-stricken eyes a high spirit burned.
For an instant only the man stared at Stephen, and then
he dragged himself to the wall.
The eyes of the other two were both fixed on the young
Union Captain.
" My God I " cried Jennison, seizing Stephen's rigid
arm, "does he look as bad as that? We've seen him
every day."
"1 — I know him," answered Stephen. He stepped
quickly to the bedside, and bent over it. " Colfax ! " he
said. "Colfax I"
"This is too much, Jennison," came from the bed a
voice that was pitifully weak; "why do you bring
Yankees in here ? "
" Captain Brice is a friend of yours, Colfax," said the
Colonel, tugging at his mustache.
" Brice ? " repeated Clarence, " Brice ? Does he come
from St. Louis ? "
" Do you come from St. Louis, sir ? "
A STRANGE MEETING
435
" Yes. I have met Captain Colfax — "
"Colonel, sir."
" Colonel Colfax, before the war AnrJ .f i,« ™ u 11
to go to St. Louis, i think'l canTave H ~^^^^^^
In silence they waited for Clarence's answfr Stenhp'n
well knew what was passing in his mind and SeS
at his repugnance to accept a favor from a Yanked Hp
wondered whether there was in this case a specTal detesfa!
tion And so his mind was carried far to the Lthward
Me aLTStf '""I'^^y.^'^- summer-hour o7 he
then of ihlril' J'^Sini^ ^ad not loved her cousin
f?! tT^V ** Stephen was sure. But now, -now that
the Vicksburg army was ringing with his pra se, now that
he was unfortunate— Stephen si^hpd h;- « * !:
was that he would be the rnstrument.^ '^^ ^'' "'"^^"^
Ihelady in her uneasiness smoothed the single sheet
that covered the sick man. From afar came theTound of
cheering, and it was this that seemed to rouse h?m He
faced them again, impatiently. ^®
steadilv^'^AnT/]?'' ^.,f member Mr. Brice," he said
ddng^n vfcksbSg'^r^^'' ^^"^ "^'^"^"^^' " W^^^ - ^«
Stephen looked at Jennison, who winced.
Ihe city has surrendered," said that officer.
"Then you can afford to be generous," he said, with a
bitter laugh "But vou haven't whipped us yet bv a
f o^^^^^^^^ ^"^^' " •^-"^«-' -hy in Mid
"Colfax," said Stephen, coming forward, "vou're ton
sick a man to telk. I'll look up tfe General It mLbe
that I can have you sent North to-day." "^
a prWr^'" ^"^ *' ^'''' ^^'''''" "^^ ^^*^'"^^' ^^l^^^^' " ^^^^
ladl^li'^?li'"^^!'^ to Stephen's face. Bowing to the
lady, he strode out of the room. Colonel Jennison run-
nmg after him, caught him in the street. '
rou re not offended, Brice ? " he said. " He's sick —
436
THE CRISIS
I
I k
and God Almighty, he's proud — I reckon," he added
with a touch of humility that went straight to Stephen's
heart. **■ I reckon that some of us are too derned proud —
But we ain't cold.*'
Stephen grasped his hand.
" Offended ! " he said. '* I admire the man. I'll go to
the General directly. But just let me thank you. And
I hope, Colonel, that we may meet again — as friends."
" Hold on, seh," said Colonel Catesby Jennison ; " we
may as well drink to that."
Fortunacely, as Stephen drew near the Court House,
he caught sight of a group of officers seated on its steps,
and among them he was quick to recognize General
Sherman.
" Brice," said the General, returning his salute, " been
celebrating this glorious Fourth with some of our Rebel
friends ? "
"Yes, sir," answered Stephen, "and I came to ask a
favor for one of them." Seeing that the General's genial,
interested expression did not change, he was emboldened
to go on. " This is one of their colonels, sir. You may
have heard of him. He is the man who floated down the
river on a log and brought back two hundred thousand
percussion caps — "
"Good Lord," interrupted the General, "I guess we
all heard of him after that. What else has he done to
endear himself ? " he asked, with a smile.
" Well, General, he rowed across the river in a skiff the
night we ran these batteries, and set fire to De Soto to
make targets for their gunners."
"I'd like to see that man," said the General, in his
eager way. " Where is he ? "
"What I was going to tell you, sir. After he went
through all this, he was hit by a piece of mortar shell,
while sitting at his dinner. He's rather far gone now,
General, and they say he can't live unless he can be
sent North. I — I know who he is in St. Louis. And
I thought that as long as the officers are to be parded I
might get your permission to send him up to-day.'*
A STRANGE MEETING
437
" What's his name ? "
"Colfax, sir."
"No, sir, he didn't."
"These vounl\fo"y' '^1 *t' ,?'"^'*^ emphatically.
Rril ff °^ ^^°°**^ */« *^e backbone of this rebellion
Bnce. They were made for war. They never did any:
thmg except horse-racing and cock-fighting Thev rile
like the devil, fight like tSe devil, but don't care a S/une
sle^AnT W/l^^^h«dsomeof'em. CritteK^had
wt* fK^ o',P°^ ^''''^' ^^^ *hey hate a Yankee I I
Ifrinltl ^f^""' *r- . "^'« * ^^'^^i" °f that fine-Loking
girl Brinsmade spoke of. They say he's eneaged to her
Be a pity to disappoint her — eh ? '' ^"S^agea to iier.
"Yes, General."
"Why Captain, I believe you would like to marry her
aT^i^la J"'^ °^^ ^^^^«' -' -<^ ^-'^ try to ^m^'
Pol^'^i^^u^ ^o*^® ? ^^^^'^ ^^^ t^at young man," said the
General, when Stephen had gone oflF Vith the si p oTpaper
^nv nffi^'''^'' l'"^- T " ^ ^^^ *^ d« t^»t ki^d of a fayor for
fm^w?: 'T ''^!? ^ i'*^- ^^d 7«" '^oti'^e how he flared
up when I mentioned the girl ? '^
nn'^^i' is.yty Clarence Colfax found himself that evening
north's! a." '' *'^ '^^^^^ ^^----'^' ^-^
SI
m
CHAPTER IX
i
BELLEGARDE ONCE MOKE
Supper at Bellegarde was not the simple meal it had
been for a year past at Colonel Carvel's house in town.
Mrs. Colfax was proud of her table, proud of her fried
chickens and corn fritters and her desserts. How Vir-
g-nia chafed at those suppers, and how she despised the
guests whom her aunt was in the habit of inviting to some
ot them ! And when none were present, she was forced
to listen to Mrs. Colfax's prattle about the fashions, her
tirades against the Yankees.
"I'm sure he must be dead," said that lady, one sultry
evening in July. Her tone, however, was not one of convic-
tion. ^ A lazy wind from the river stirred the lawn of Vir-
ginia s gown. The girl, with her hand on the wicker back
ot the chair, was watching a storm gather to the eastward,
across the Illinois prairie.
"I don't see why you sav that. Aunt Lillian," she re-
plied. « Bad news travels faster than good."
"And not a word from Comyn. It is cruel of him not
to send us a hue, teUing us where his regiment is."
Virginia did not reply. She had long since learned
that the wisdom of silence was the best for her aunt's un-
reasonableness. Certainly, if Clarence's letters could
not pass the close lines of the Federal trooL 3, news of
her fathers Texas regiment could not come from Red
Kiver.
" How was Judge Whipple to-day ? " asked Mrs. Col-
fax, presently.
" Very weak. He doesn't seem to improve much "
"I can't see why Mrs. Brice, — isn't that her name ? —
doesn t take him to her house. Yankee women are such
prudes.
438
BELLEGARDE ONCE MORE
<43»
^Virginia began to rock .lowly, and her foot tapped the
Buthe"ay,"he° htlM,?" '"^e^ "^ ""^^ to her.
day.^, witi, her, n„^/j,VtCt':?d'man/-''™' ^^""'"^ '"■»"'
she felt She thou^L offl! 1 1 P^'" ^?^ resentment
and sufferinl n The heft l ^^"^ ""l" "^'^"^ ^^^^^ P^i"
bed, the onl/lilht of lUeJl'^^- ^'Vf "^ ^'^ ^^« ««"o^
two women.^ Xv came d'K'''i"^ the presence of the
never spoke of her snn hn ? « r ?. ^ ^\ ^^^ mother
love best? VirBinirmnW „„! T '. Y^'f'' '"' «*«™ed to
resented th«. IhTh^rherAlre^'hrn.^'^L^t tt
w^rfwitfjenrMrt ITT' ^^^ ^T'/^^y
of Vicksburg. 6nlv yeSav V?™i ^™."'5"' dffendere
these to Mrf WWddi/?,., f ^ Virginia had read one of
face was tumed X^'^l'dirandTh^StenT". '""'.."^
was nnf. fKn,.« f *»*"uow, ana tnat ^Jtephen's mother
i(
He
there
says
very little about himself," Mr. Whipple
ri-f"
440
THE CRISIS
!;
complained. "Had it not been for Brinsmade, we should
nroZt^T*^"'^^^^T"°,>^ ^'' «y« ^^ hi^rand had
promoted him. We should never have known of that
exploit at Chickasaw Bluff. But what a glorious victory
was Grant 8 capture of Vicksburg, on the Fourth of July^
I guess we 11 make short work of the Rebela now."
No, the Judge had not changed much, even in illness.
He would never change. Virginia laid the letter down,
I? wi "!!. .t'^^fi ^? ^^' T" ^ «^« repressed a retort
It was lot the first time this had happened. At everv
Union victory Mr Whipple would loose^Kis tongue. How
short^heref ' *^^ ^^ *^°"^^* ""^ °*^^"' ^^^^^^^ f^U
«^2?\'^*^V*^^^ unusual forbearance, Mrs. Brice had
overtaken Virginia on the stairway. WeU she knew the
girls nature, and how difficult she must have found
repression. Margaret Brice had taken her hand.
My dear, she had said, "you are a wonderful woman."
That was aU. But Virginia had driven back to Belle-
garde with a strange elation in her heart.
fJT^^^'"'^^- *^^ "^"/^^^ ^^ forborne to mention, and
for this Virginia w^ thankful. One was the piano. But
she had overheard Shadrach telling old Nancy how
Mrs Brice had pleaded with him to move it, tLt h^
might have more room and air. He had been obdurate.
And Colonel Carvel's name had never once passed his
«f.^.^K^ ? night the girl had lain awake listening to the
steamboats as they toiled against the river's current
mn^l^T°' ^'^^ ^T ^^"«^ 1^«^ ^^er father at that
Z h!SL^^ '° °'°'*?:^ *^^?y ^^«"g«* *h« l^eaps left by
the battle s surges; heaps in which, like mounds of ashe^
the fire was not yet dead. Fearful tales she had Crd
iL t^/r° ^°'P^^"^^ ^* ^°"^d«d «^«^ lying for days in
the Southern sun between the trenches It Vicksburg, ir
freezing amidst the snow and sleet at Donelson. ^
rT^ ¥u l^^"?fness against the North not just ? What
a life had been Colonel Carvel's I It had dawned brightiy!
One war had cost him his wife. Another, and he htS losi
BELLEGARDE ONCE MORE 441
"^Tril^^Xt^t't'J t^at w„ a., to h™.
he was perchance to see no more ""^ ""'•■•
of rain, and tKhl,^i„°" .** ^l"^' "•>"« ">« frois sang
She heird th^e^^ttTwre^Js^'S^tr/S """^ '"^
slowly Leaded he st^™vir»rn""'*'°- A gentleman
Mr. Brinsmade. '^^ ^"8>n'a recognized him as
sail^°"Hrri\m!>ZX''"."'°'"J' •">■»«• "y <»«"." he
paroUed by GelZoCt ""P"^'^ " Vicksburg, and is
held' r hanT " """■ "' """ "»'»«> '<'"'-^- But he
" He has been wounded I "
m^^tei'l me-^'l"^^' "^™- ^h, tell me, Mr. Brins-
the'rein'r ifghT i^^lf^^c^^r ' ^"' ""^^ "- »"
to break the ne^^to hefa^^' ^"*'""* '=''°''«^ "« "a*"
folW^-ctrenrhat^'^'lr *'"' f""^ '»='>'' "hich
That Us life WM s^vT^ ^^"^^^ ''*» «"» death.
•Mammy Barter Th It '^'.due to Virginia and to
coifax^flrin'tS C"^(Prvt k '"' r''^'-. »*"•
B. sp^ns »hTwepC*";L°4tui:Sy^>;S^edn J^^^^^
: i ^i
n
•I
^^
442
THE CRISIS
the room and locked the door. She would creep in to
mm in the night during Mammy Easter's watches and
talk him into a raging fever. But Virginia slept lightly
and took the alarm. More than one scene these two had
m the small hours, while Ned was riding post haste over
the black road to town for the Doctor.
Bv the same trust v nessenger did Virginia contrive to
send a note to Mrs. rice, begging her to explain her
absence to Judge Wmpple. By day or night Virginia
did not leave Bellegarde. And once Dr. Polk, while
wal'-jng in the garden, found the girl fast asleep on a
bench, her sewing on her lap. Would that a master had
painted his face as he looked down at her I
Twas he who brought Virginia daily news of Judge
Whipple. Bad news, alas ! for he seemed to miss her
greatly. He had become more querulous and exactinir
with patient Mrs. Brice, and inquired for her continually.
She would not go. But often, when he got into his buggy,
the Doctor found the seat filled with roses and fresh f?uit.
Well he knew where to carry them.
What Virginia's feelings were at this time no one will
ever know. God had mercifully given her occupation,
farat with the Judge, and later, when she needed it more,
witn Clarence. It was she whom he recognized first of
aU, whose name was on his lips in his waking moments.
With the petulance of returning reason, he pushed his
mother away. Unless Virginia was at his bedside when
he awoke, his fever rose. He put his hot hand into her
cool one, and it rested there sometimes for hours. Then
and only then, did he seem contented. '
The wonder was that her health did not fail. People
who saw her during that fearful summer, fresh and with
color m her cheeks, marvelled. Great-hearted Puss Russell
who came frequently to inquire, was quieted before her
triend, and the frank and jesting tongue was silent in that
presence. Anne Brinsmade came with her father and
wondered. A miracle had changed Virginia. Her poise,
her gentleness, her dignity, were the effects which people
saw. Her force people felt. And this is why we cannot
BELLEGARDE ONCE MORE
443
of ourselves add one cubit to our atatnr*. u ■ n ^ ,
changes, — who cleftn««« .,« «* suture. It is God who
trial.*^ W^y7thn?e hlnnv 1 **"" 'jvity with the fire of
And yet^ Sfow manv a?r;h« '^ T^^"^ f^," chasteneth.
XTfil dsTeo'rn^Ia^^^^^^^^^ '^^^ P^^oJ'l^
two women sat bv *" V,^^."^®'' »'"»'»>»& beyond, ..hile the
e«itement , and he clenchfd W^fi ? ""'"J "'.^"^'" '"«"
when he hekrd of the caDturenf I l' ""'' 'j'*'' '" "»"
Port Hudson nt\l "*?'"'* ",' Jacltson and the fall of
that'he:'rb;tte?he::L'd%;''hofdr I T-^'.""" ■">-
when she looked up frorherb,S,fe if ''""il- ^"^ »"<"'
dark eyee fl.ed up^on ZXd^Lk in ?h^'ofT? '"
interpretation. S^e waa troubled "" "^ *"" ™*
noJn °rw^ hircu'ltomT^ •?'j" ''"'^'"'*' '" ">« "«"-
rockiKr^^r^iikSu'iJir'''"* '■■'""•* '""-s *•■«
alwa/o, a k.--irnal"e- t"v"r S^T^r^''
dashing officer fho r r,t a ^ ^euer to a certain
*„-.^ ^^^"'^^^ ^*»e C .nfederate army had been cap-
pubhshed in the hateful Democrat
gave Virginia news of the Judge,
^vould mention Mrs. lirice. Then
face anf Jivtd L ' rr'/"' ""H^'-^-^ooM into his
sat but a few mo^ ^ hf -^ ^om^thmg to tell her. He
her hand ^"^ '*^* ^^ *^««« *^ go he took
tured and rutl
It was the Do*
and sometimes
Clarence would
; (
w
444
THE CRISIS
M
" I have a favor to beg of you. Jinny," he said. " The
Judge has lost his nurse. Do you think Clarence could
spare you for a little while every day? I shouldn't ask
I u continued, somewhat hurriedly for him,
♦' but the Judge cannot bear u stranger near him. And I
am afraid to have him excited while in this condition."
" Mrs. Brice is ill? " she cried. And Clarence, watch-
ing, saw her color go.
" No," replied Dr. Polk, " but her son Stephen has come
home from the army. He was transferred to Laumun's
brigade, and then he was wounded." He jangled the keys
in his pocket and continued: "It seems that he had no
business in the battle. Johnston in his retreat had driven
animals into all the ponds and shot them, and in the hot
weather the water was soon poisoned. Mr. Brice was
scarcely well enough to stand when they made the charge,
and he 18 now in a dreadful condition. He is a fine fel-
low, added the Doctor, with a sigh. "General Sherman
sent a special physician to the boat with him. He is — "
Subconsciously the Doctor's arm sought Virginia's back,
as though he felt her swaying. But he was looking at
Clarence, who had jerked himself forward in his chair; his
thin hands convulsively clutching at the arms of it. He
did not appear to see Virginia.
^^" Stephen Brice, did you say?" he cried; "will hj
In his astonishment the Doctor passed his palm across
his brow, and for a moment he did not answer. Virginia
had taken a step from him, and was standing motionless,
almost rigid, her eyes on his face.
r^ ''Pl^^ " ^® ®*^^' repeating the word mechanically : " mv
God, I hope not. The danger is over, and he is resting
ecsily If he were not," he said quickly and forcibly, "I
should not be here," ^
The Doctor's mare passed more than one fleet-footed
trotter on the road to town that day. And the Doctor's
black servant heard his master utter the word "fool"
twice, and with great emphasis.
For a long time Virginia stood on the end of the porch
Ml,
BELLEGARDE ONCE MORE un
"rSfde^'." »'"••<' »"«'^''.r .oof, at..
^^'^ Virginia, .it here . moment , I have .omething to tell
them in her own. ^ ^ '""®**' *°^ s^® ^^
He be^an slowly, aa if every word cost him pain
"Virginia, we were children together here ?*n„n„ .
remember the time when I HiH n^f i , cannot
not think of you L my wife AH I hTS T' ^^^"/ ^^^
together was to try to wS your aDolaust Th T ^^"^^^
n^hed^roiii-i;: 3vr^^^ - -^^
sad that I am spying thb ' ^' ^' "" * '" ™^^« ^^^
" I have had a great deal of time to think latelv Unn,,
I was not brought ud sftrimioKr ^ u ^*^v» Jinny.
or pleased any but m3f ,^^ ^"^ f^", ««"«'i
st«4d or woJk^"* ?oTw;™ ri^ht'Xn voulolST
I mu,t learn «>metlung,_do soLtSng?Ite*ome "of
'i
\l
440
THE CRISIS
Jl
wme account in the world. I am just as useless to-
« "2^'„Clarence, after what 70U have done for the
oouth r
He smiled with peculiar bitterness.
" What have I done for her ? " he added. « Crossed the
nver and burned houses. I could not build them airain.
J^loated down the river on a log after a few percussion
caps. That did not save Vicksburg."
"And how many had the courage to do that?" she
exclaimed.
"Pooh," he said, "courage I the whole South has it.
Courage ! If I did not have that, I would send Sambo
to my father s room for his ebony box, and blow mv
brains out. No, Jinny, I am nothing but a soldier of
fortune. I never possessed any quality but a wild spirit
for adventure, to shirk work. I wanted to go with
Walker, you remember. I wanted to go to Kansas. I
wanted to distinguish myself," he added with a gesture.
But that is all gone now. Jinny. I wanted to distinguish
myself for you. Now I see how an earnest life might
have won you. No, I have not done yet."
She raised her head, frightened, and looked at him
searchingly.
"One day," he said, "one day a good many years ago
you and I and Uncle Comyn were walking along Market
Street in front of Judge Whipple's office, and a slave
auctiop was going on. A girl was being sold on whom
you had set your heart. There was some one in the
crowd, a Yankee, who bid her in and set her free. Do
you remember him?"
He saw her profile, her lips parted, her look far awav.
one mclinea her head.
"Yes," said her cousin, "so do I remember him. He
has crossed my path many times since, Virginia. And
naark what I sav — it was he whom you had in mind on
that birthday when you implored me to make something
of myself. It was Stephen Brice."
Her eyes flashed upon him quickly.
BELLEGABDE ONCE MOEE
U7
" ^\ ^"^ "Jaro you ? " she cried.
not realize that he^wrthe fdtl Ihth «: f ] I^Jf
ify dress, I tit It''? h^^zffo- :h':s rjr i-
He had been there whpn T «.o^ ^ . ^ ^°* '^ack.
And-and-yr^T^rtouTe."™^'""" «"»« "«-"•
waswa.'^gfo^l'^jj'^^rthe^oi^"'?''' '"""'-J- "'
instead. It-it^™ nottog ™'^' *""' ''"^P^'' ""^ '«'««
H:w" rted''?hat'S."'?eorie?S'r''T.' 'r' y°"-
JHated," exolaiZl- Y^^X^Z^^^ "^^
oom'^'lll n"ow'- ■*'"'•' ' """^^ '«'™ killed him if I
" But now ? "
teU y^ ttZ.^'^, :if i ' 'Jf™ not-I could not
lying in Vicksburg, anTthe^toM yP.'""* J''>«'^ I was
chance was to come North T'l *°''' '"«' that my only
insulted him Yet hTtent oThl"^ '"'"^T'' '>'■"•
brought home -to you ^4'„il° ^''/^f" ""» ^ad me
I have long suspecte^d that h?3^s- ••''' '°™' ^"■'•-'"«'
« T ?.' ""' >^ ""'"*' l>lding her face. " No "
calmIy!?rxo^bl°r •Sd"'"''^/' ''"/«"''° «»tinued
must Luhat he^ioes ^ jf Z ^^ ^^H^^ ^"^^ '^<»'
a generous. He kn^w thT ''™™ ""°» to do, and
Marry a Yankee I " she cried. "ClarenPP r«u
have you known and loved me all mv lifp f W ? -^^'
accuse me of this J Never, never, ^vlrn^""' ^"^ °^^^^*
Transformed, he looked incredulous admiration.
!
!
ni
448
THE CRISIS
♦'Jinny, do vou mean it ? " he cried.
In answer she bent down with all that gentleness and
grace that was hers, and pressed her lips to his forehead.
Long after she had disappeared in the door he sat staring
after her.
But later, when Mammy Easter went to call her mis-
tress for supper, she found her with her face buried in
the pillows.
.<i
CHAPTER X
IN JUDGE WHIPPLE'S OFFICE
WM tS Veatestlri^l V^ ''^" ^'^'^<^< which I think
*5\J°dge was perceptibly betterihe t th^ pr^T^'ut
try; thrj;y ^u cL*^thr/c^*;fnrr s-"' -'"'-
nis service and devotion to our Republic." *
■I
' u
: ft
:si
.' ' ■'
'^'m'
5.
450
THE CRISIS
I >i. 1
I ! '
seemed the shroud upon a life of happiness that was dead
and gone.
Virginia had not been with Judge Whipple during the
critical week after Stephen was brought home. But Anne
had told her that his anxiety was a pitiful thing to see,
and that it had left him perceptibly weaker. Certain it
was that he was failing fast. So fast that on some days
Virginia, watching him, would send Ned or Shadrach in
hot haste for Dr. Polk.
At noon Anne would relieve Virginia, — Anne or her
mother, — and frequently Mr. Brinsmade would come
likewise. For it is those who have the most to do who
find the most time for charitable deeds. As the hour for
their coming drew near, the Judge would be seeking the
clock, and scarce did Anne's figure appear in the doorway
before the question had arisen to his lips : —
" And how is my young Captain to-day ? "
That is what he called him, — "my young Captain."
Virginia's choice of her cousin, and her devotion to him,
while seemingly natural enough, had drawn many a sigh
from Anne. She thought it strange that Virginia herself
had never once asked her about Stephen's condition, and
she spoke of this one day to the Judge with as much
warmth as she was capable of.
"Jinny's heart is like steel where a Yankee is con-
cerned. If her best friend were a Yankee — "
Judge Whipple checked her, smiling.
" She has been very good to one Yankee I know of," he
said. " And as for Airs. Brice, I believe she worships
her."
" But when I said that Stephen was much better to-day,
she swept out of the room as if she did not care whether
he lived or died."
" Well, Anne," the Judge had answered, " you women
are a puzzle to me. I guess you don't understand your-
selves," he added.
That was a strange month in the life of Clarence Col-
fax, — the last of his recovery, while he was waiting for
m JUDGE WHIPPLE'S OFFICE 461
be!u«fuf iJ^Z^'r^T' »«"«8:*'de was never more
place run down because a great war was in proL«,
StoT'nl' *'' ^"*^^^'^ 'V^ ^«* conse^r'aTh"
fortune to it. Clarence gave as much as he oould.
»,T J^^u^*®''°°''°^ VirgTuia and he would sit in the
shaded arbor seat ; or at the cool of the day descend to
the bench on the lower tier of the summer garden to
steep, as it were, in the blended perfumes of the^Joses and
the mignonettes and the pinks."^ He was soberer han of
Tn her sZ f'''"^^ *^' "^«^^^ he pondered on the change
m her. She, too, was grave. But he was tioubled to
sZtTh^' r^^'?' ^'l ^^^''^'y- Was this merely
strength of character, the natural result of the trials
through which she had passed, the habit acquired of being
fortPdl^''/"'^ comforter instead of the helped and com?
torted? Long years afterward the brightly colored
portrait of her remained in his eye, - the^simple Hnen
gown of pmk or white, the brown hair shinTng in the
Zu!dof'"Jr'^''^r'' ^^ *^« ^'^^' And tie Sa t!
Sw of war '"" ^""^^ everywhere, far from the
Sometimes, when she brought his breakfast on a tray
in the morning, there was laughter in her eyes. In the
days gone by they had been all laughter. ^
ov Jr f Jv^""^ f?^*^*^- S^e was to be his wife. He said it
over to himself many, many times in the day. He would
W lnnl?T' ^^^'1? ^^? f^^ "P«° ^^^ "^til she lifted
her look to his, and the rich color flooded her face. He
was not a lover to sit quietly by, was Clarence. And yet,
not that she did not respond to his advances: he did not
make them Nor could he have told why. Was it ?he
chivalry inherited from a long life of Colfaxes who were
&Tor f^^in^^ttr."^- ''-'''''' ^' -^ ^^<^^^^
tA^ wiT^^S '^''''^ °°' ^°d the time drew near for him
to go back .0 the war, a state that was not quite estrange-
ment, and yet something very like it, wt in. Poor
f if!
m
V
i ;
452
THE CRISIS
Clarence ! Doubts bothered him, and he dared not g^ve
them voice. By night he would plan his speeches, —
impassioned, imploring. To see her in her marvellous
severity was to strike him dumb. Horrible thought !
Whether ohe loved him, whether she did not love him,
she would not give him up. Through the long years of
their lives together, he would never know. He was not
a weak man now, was Clarence Colfax. He was merely
a man possessed of a devil, enchained by the power of
self -repression come upon her whom he loved.
And day by day that power seemed to grow more in-
tense, — invulnerable. Among her friends and in the
little household it had raised Virginia to heights which
she herself did not seem to realize. She was become
the mistress of Bellegarde. Mrs. Colfax was under its
sway, and doubly miserable because Clarence would listen
to her tiradjs no more.
" When are you to be married ? " she had ventured to
ask him once. Nor had she taken pains to hide the sar-
casm in her voice.
His answer, bringing with it her remembrance of her
husband at certain times when it was not safe to question
him, had silenced her. Addison Colfax had not been a
quiet man. When he was quiet he was dangerous.
" Whenever Virginia is ready, mother," he had replied.
Whenever Virginia was ready ! He knew in his heart
that if he were to ask her permission to send for Dr.
Posthelwaite to-morrow that she would say yes. To-
morrow came, — and with it a great envelope, an official
answer to Clarence's report that he was fie for duty once
more. He had been exchanged. He was to proceed to
Cairo, there to await the arrival of the transport Indian-
apolis, which was to carry five hundred officers and men
from Sandusky Prison, who were going back to fight once
more for the Confederacy. O that they might have
seen the North, all those brave men who made that sacri-
fice I That they might have realized the numbers and
the resources and the wealth arrayed against them !
It was a cool day for September, a perfect day, an auspi-
IK JUDGE WHIPPLE'S OFFICE 453
Thi^fS'fT^ ^®* '* T*°* ***! ^»y «^ *h« others before it.
This was the very fulness of the year, the earth giving
?anwl T'*°,T ''^^" °^**""*y' th« corn in ma3
ranks, with golden plumes nodding. The forest stiU in
pat&7nd A??S- 7^^ 7v?^^i^ ^^ «^^^"- the fa"
?ai!r.'l 1 !?• :.°^*?P^°? *he ^ate ^•oses for the supper
who had begun to hurry on his southward journey went
iit^h S'r* ^¥^T ^l«*h«« Cl«^«°«« w^ to?aft with
him had been packed by Virginia in his bag, and theTwo
when nT/^"^ "^ '^' twmghf on the steps^'of the houTe!
when Ned came around the corner. He called his younij
mjBtress by name, but she did not hear him. He caUe!
again.
"Miss Jinny!"
She started as from a sleep, and paused.
fh., - * '• Johnson," 8ai(f she, and smiled. He wore
that air of mystery so dear to darkeys.
"Gemmen to see you, Miss Jinny."
"A gentleman ! " she said in surprise. « Where ? "
" ThM f "° P°'°*®^ ^ *^® ^^° shrubbery.
" What's all this nonsense, Ned ? " said Clarence, sharply.
If a man is there, bring him here at once. " ^ ^
« w. / * I ¥ ^^^'^ ''°°'®' ^^'•se Cla'ence." said Ned.
"He fearful skeered ob de light ob day. He got suthin'
very pertickler fo' Miss Jinny." ^ ^ °
" 5** ^°^ ^°°^ h^ ^ " Clarence demanded.
Robimson^'""^®^^""^®***^"^ ^'^ ^^^ '""'• ^""®'«
LoJ^i® ^ord was hardly out of his mouth before Virginia
had leaped down the four feet from the porch to the
flower-bed and was running across the lawn toward the
shrubbery. Parting the bushes after her, Clarence found
?i^K°"''" .^^o^fronting a large man, whom he recognized
i wwP?!.^^'' brought messages from the South.
What s the matter. Jinny ? " he demanded.
« w. r* ^°* through the lines," she said breathlessly.
He — he came up to see me. Where is he, Robinson ? "
.1 M
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y
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454
THE CRISIS
•'He went to Jud^e Whipple's rooms, ma'am. They
say the Judge is dyine. I reckoned you knew it, Miss
Jinny," Robinson added contritely.
" Clarence," she said, " I must go at once."
" I will go with vou," he said ; "you cannot go alone."
In a twinkling Ned and Sambo had the swift pair of
horses harnessed, and the light carriage was flying over
the soft clay road toward the city. As they passed Mr.
Brinsmade's place, the moon hung like a great round lan-
tern under the spreading trees about the house. Clarence
caught a glimpse of his cousin's face in the light. She
was leaning forward, her gaze fixed intently on the stone
posts which stood like monuments between the bushes at
the entrance. Then she drew back again into the dark
corner of the barouche. She was startled by a sharp
challenge, and the carriage stopped. Looking out, she
saw the provost's guard like black card figures on the
road, and Ned fumbling for his pass.
On they drove into the city streets until the dark bulk
of the Court House loomed in front of them, and Ned drew
rein at the little stairway which led to the Judge's rooms.
Virginia, leaping out of the carriage, flew up the steps
and into the outer office, and landed in the Colonel's
arms.
"Jinny I"
" Oh, Pa I " she cried. " Why do you risk your life in
this way ? If the Yankees catch you — "
"They won't catch me, honey," he answered, kissing
her. Then he held her out at arm's length and gazed
earnestly into her face. Trembling, she searched his own.
" Pa, how old you look I "
" I'm not precisely young, my dear," he said, smiling.
His hair was nearly white, and his face seared. But he
was a fine erect figure of a man, despite the shabby clothes
he wore, and the mud-bespattered boots.
"Pa," she whispered, "it was foolhardy to come here.
Why did you come to St. Louis at all ? "
"1 came to see you. Jinny, I reckon. And when I got
home to-night and heard Silas was dying, I just couldn't
.-■ i-r-^ -'-^v
IN JUDGE WHIPPLE'S OFFICE
4Sft
resist. He's the oldest friend Fve got in St. Louis, honev.
and now — now — " "^
" Pa, you've been in battle ? "
"Yes/' he said.
"And you weren't hurt; I thank God for that," she
whispered. After a while : " Is Uncle Silas dying? "
"Yes, Jinny ; Dr. Polk is in there now, and says that he
can t last through the night. Silas has been asking for
you, honey, over and over. He says you were very good
to him,— that you and Mrs. Brice gave up evervthini? to
nurse him." *- .^ e
"She did," Virginia faltered. "She was here night
and day until her son came home. She is a noble
woman — "
"Her son?" repeated the Colonel. "Stephen Brice?
Silas has done nothing the last half-hour but call his
name. He says he must see the boy before he dies. Polk
says he is not strong enough to come."
" Oh, no, he is not strong enough," cried Virginia.
The Colonel looked down at her queerly.
" Where is Clarence ? " he asked.
She had not thought of Clarence. She turned hurriedly,
glanced around the room, and then peered down the dark
stairway.
" Why, he came in with me. I wonder why he did not
follow me up?"
" Virgfinia."
"Yes, Pa."
" Virginia, are you happy ? "
"Why, yes. Pa."
"Are you going to marry Clarence ? " he asked.
"I have promised," she said simply.
Then after a long pause, seeing her father said nothing,
she added, " Perhaps he was waiting for you to see me
alone. I will go down to see if he is in the carriage."
The Colonel started with her, but she pulled him back
in alarm.
" You will be seen. Pa," she cried. « How can you \m
so reckless?"
! S ':
it
f i
.< s
i I
4M
THE CBISI8
He stayed at the top of the passage, holding open the
door that she might have light. When she reached the
sidewalk, there was Ned standing beside the horses, and
the carriage empty.
"Nedl^'
" Yass'm, Miss Jinny."
" Where's Mr. Clarence ? *'
" He done gone, Miss Jinny."
" Gone ? "
" Yass'm. Fust I seed was a man plump out'n Will-
ums's. Miss Jinny. He was a-ewine shufflin up de street
when Marse Cla'ence put out alter him, pos' has'e. Den
he run."
She stood for a moment on the pavement in thought,
and paused on the stairs again, wondering whether it were
best to tell her father. P' rhaps Clarence had seen — she
caught her breath at th thought and pushed open the
door.
»» Oh, Pa, do you thi^k you are safe here ? " she ^ried.
" Why, yes, honey, I reckon so," he answered. " ere's
Clarence ? "
"Ned says he ran after a man who was hiding in an
entrance. Pa, I am afraid they are watching the place."
" I don't think so, Jinny. I came here with Polk, in his
buggy, after dark."
Virginia, listening, heard footsteps on the stairs, and
seized her father's sleeve.
" Think of the risk you are running. Pa," she whispered.
She would have dragged him to the closet. But it was
too late. The door opened, and Mr. Brinsmade entered,
and with him a lady veiled.
At sight of Mr. Carvel Mr. Brinsmade started back in
surprise. How long he stared at his old friend Virginia
could not say. It seemed to her an eternity. But Mrs.
Brice has often told since how straight the Colonel
stood, his fine head thrown back, as he returned the
glance. Then Mr. Brinsmade came forward, with his
hand outstretched.
" Comyn," said he, his voice breaking a little, " I have
IN JUDGE WHIPPLE'S uFFlCB 457
Yora!J/;^"f« l^»H «"^ r^ a. a man c unsUined honor.
S ^t^^?'^*^""*®- I "It no question,. GodwiUiudire
whether I have done my duty. " ' ^
Mr. Carvel took his friend's hand. " Tmnk you, Calvin "
he said. " I give you my word of honor as agentleman
that I came into this city for no other n ^son than to see
my daughter. And hea^ng that my old friend w^dWng
I could not resist the temptation, sir — " ^^
Mr. Brinsmade finished for him. And h s voice shook.
To come to his bedside. How many mei. do you think
would nsk their lives so, Mrs. ' -? ♦' ^
«Th^nl ?n7^ '"-if ^' ^J: ! «^^'" "^ answered,
mlc'ron h^'nS^d"'" "'^^ '" ' ' ' ^"«^ ^' »^- ^-
The Colonel bowed over h«r a»^.
Ja tf^J i° ^'% '^ame madam, ^ the name of my oldest
and best fn nd, -- 1 thank voo u ^baty.^ have ine for
him. I trust that you will all..»n)3 to add tlm. I have
learned from my daughter to r.«w,ect ^ti mdmire voj T
hope that your son is doing w&ll.^* ^ '
fhlfVr "■ *J'*''^ ^''"J ?**^°^^* ^»^^ " ^ but knew
i«!: I . "^ ,r'® *^y'?8^» ' ***^^ *»«*^ ^v e kept him at
home. hi. oik says that h mu«« nm i«ive the house,
or undergo anv excitement." « "uu«j,
Polrcamrout *^ h' "V '""* "^^ ***''^^' ''°*^ ^'•
Mr. Brinsmade, and he patted Virjg^? «
"The Judge is still asleep," he «»c atly. "And —
nemay not wake up in this world."
Silently sadly, they went together ,nio that little room
Snw 1,-ffl "'*" ''^r Judge Whipple's ife had l,een spent.
How httlt, it was I And how completely thev HUed ft, —
ul^ nWK^'^Pv- *°^. *^' big Rotkeld qpveied with the
black cloth. Virginia pressed her father's arm as they
leaned against it, and brushed her eyes. The Doctor
turned the wick of the night-lamp.
ArZ^^ I? **?* upon the sleeper's face from which they
U^hTtww^Ti^- Yes, and a light. The divine
light which IS shed upon those who have lived for
1 II
>l
4M
THE CRISIS
others, who have denied themselves the lusts of the flesh.
For a long space, perhaps an hour, ti*ey stayed, silent
save for a low word now and again from the Doctor
as he felt the Judy's heart. Tableaux from the past
floated before Virginia's eyes. Of the old days, of the
happy days in Locust Street, of the Judge quarrelling
with her father, and she and Captain Lige smiling near
by. And she remembered how sometimes when the con-
troversy was finished the Judge would rub his nose and
say : —
" It's my turn now, Lige."
Whereupon the Captain would open the piano, and she
would play the hymn that he liked best. It was " Lead,
Kindly Light."
What was it in Silas Whipple's nature that courted the
pam of memories? What pleasure could it have been
all through his illnefw ^c look upon this silent and cruel
reminder of davs gont oy forever? She had heard that
btephen Brice had been with the Judge when he had bid
It in. She wondered that he had allowed it, for they said
that he was the only one who had ever been known to
break the Judge's will. Virginia's eyes rested on Mar-
garet Brice, who was seated at the head of the bed smooth-
ing the pillows. The strength of Stephen's features were
in here, but not the ruggedness. Her features were large,
indeed, yet stanch and softened. The widow, as if feel-
ing Virginia's look upon her, glanced up from the Judge's
face and smiled at her. The girl colored with pleasure,
and again at the thought which she had had of the likeness
between mother and son.
Still the Judge slept on, while they watched. And at
length the thought of Clarence crossed Virginia's mind.
Why had he not returned? Perhaps he was in the office
without. Whispering to her father, she stole out on tip-
toe. The office was empty. Descending to the street,
she was unable to gain any news of Clarence from Ned,
who was becoming alarmed likewise.
Perplexed and troubled, she climbed the stairs ao-ain.
No sound came from the Judge's room. Perhaps 6lar-
IN JUDGE WHiPPLE'8 OFFICE m^
w- ir^o^r ^l ** r°/ "*°"*"'^ P^'-^^P- her father
^dLk^^^^, She «at jown to think, -hVr elbow, on
the desk in front of her, her chin in her hand, her eves at
the level of a line of book, which .tood on eudlclwl
PUadtngi, Blacku<me, GreenU<tf <m Evidence A wfv
It wa. hi. desk ! She was .itting in hi. chair !
bhe droppd the book, and, rising abruptly, crowed
ciuickly to t£e other .ide of the room? Then X tS
ie.itet.nglv, and went back. Thi. wa. hi. de.k - ht'
^h* '/° A^^ l^ had worked so faithfully for the man
who lay dym J beyond the door. For him whom the?
W.i'''*^;" u*^ ^^* ^«"" *h«y ^«re here toToothe
War. and wshi.m. may part our bodie., but .tronge;
htmol^^rv-*^^?- u^'""^^ Sila. Whipple, through
hi. mother, Virginia knew that .he was woven of one
piece with Stephen Brice. In a thousand way. .Se w^
reminded, lent .he drive it from her belief. She miZ
marry another, and that would not matter. ^
She wnk again into hi. chair, and gave herrolf over to
the thought, crowding in her heart. How thTthrelS of
tL i'*'' °'?* ^^^"^ "^^ '^''^^ »«d recroJed them !
i^t at M. T'°°' ^«'.d»°°« ^th him, the Fair, the meTt-
nl f'A B."°f.°»a^e 8 gate, - .he knew them aU. Her
for .he did dream of him. And now he had .aved Clar-
tw' «V'^' *^*i '^" "^^^^^ '"^^^ ^^' <'«"«^- Was it true
that she would marry Clarence? That seemed to her only
a dream. It had never seemed real. Again she glanced at
the signature in the book, as if fascinated by the verv
strength of it. She turned over a few pages of the bSk^
"Supposing he defendant's counsel e^ys to provTby
fi,^ ; * ® ^^'^^ marginal note, on every paee: even
the last was covered with them. And then at the en£
"First reading, February, 1858. Second reading Ju^y
, I
4eo
THE CRISIS
1868. Bouffht with some of money obtained by first
article for M.D." That capacity for work, incomparable
gift, was what she had always coveted the most. Aeain
she rested her elbows on the desk and her chin on her
hands, and sighed unconsciously.
She had not heard the step on the stair. She had not
seen the door open. She did not know that any one was
in the room until she heard his voice, and then she thought
that she was dreaming.
"Miss Carvel I"
" Yes ? " Her head did not move.
He took a step toward her.
»; Miss Carvel 1"
Slowly she raised her face to his, unbelief and wonder
in her eyes, — unbelief and wonder and fright. No; it
could not be he. But when she met the quality of his
look, the grave tenderness of it, she trembled, and sur-
rendered her own to the page where his handwriting
quivered and became a blur.
He never knew the effort it cost her to rise and con-
front him. She herself had not measured or fathomed
the power which his verv person exhaled. It seemed to
have come upon him suddenly. He needed not to have
spoken for her to have felt that. What it was she could
not tell. She knew alone that it was nigh irresistible,
and she grasped the back of the chair as though material
support might sustain her.
"Is he — dead?"
She was breathing hard.
"No," she said. "Not— not yet. They are waiting
— for the end." *
" And you ? " he asked in grave surprise, glancing at
the door of the Judge's room.
Then she rememl^red Clarence.
" I am waiting for my cousin," she said.
Even as she spoke she was with this man again at the
Brinsmade gate. Those had been her very words I Intui-
tion told her that he, too, was thinking of that time
Now he had found her at his desk, and, as if that were
■V-
IN JUDGE WHIPPLE'S OFFICE 461
not humiliation enough, with one of his books taken down
and laid open at his signature. Suffused, she groped for
Mr'^^rit TJ ^'' r- "^. ^ """^'^S for^cETrence'
u i-5®* . "^^ ^®'®' ^^ is go^e somewhere."
He did not seem to take account of the speech. And
his silence -goad to indiscretion _ pressed her to add:-
« You saveS him, Mr. Brice. I -we all -thank you
so much. And that is not all I want to say. It is a poor
enough acknowledgment of what you did, -for we W
not always treated you well." Her voice faltered almost
to famtness, as he raised his hand in pained protest. But
she continued : « I shall regard it as'^a debt^I can never
repay. It is not likely that in my life to come I can ever
help you, but I shaU pray for that opportunity "
He interrupted her. *^
SfL^^ °''*^-''^' ^'^ ^*'^^^' "°*'"^& that the most
unfeehng man in our army would nut do. Nothing that
1 would not have done for the merest stranger "
" You saved him for me," she said.
O fateful words that spoke of themselves I She turned
away from him for very shame, and yet she heard him
" Yes, I saved him for you."
His voice was in the very note of the sadness which has
the strength to suffer, to put aside the thought of self.
A note to which her soul responded with an|ui8h when
she turned to him with the natural cry of womtn.
" Oh, you ought not to have come here to-nieht. Whv
mayZl'Jou." ^^^ ^^^^^^ ^^^^ade it. The consequence^
" It does not matter much," he answered. " The Judee
was dying." ""ugc
" How did you know ? "
"I guessed it, — because my mother had left me."
Oh, you ought not to have come I " she said again.
Ihe Judge has been my benefactor," he answered
'^Tv^* j".^ ^^"^*^ ^^^^^' *°^ it was my duty to come."
"You did not walk! "she gasped. ^
He smiled.
■ i
4
, t
U f
M!
462
THE CRISIS
"I had no carriage," he said.
With the instinct of her sex she seized the chair and
placed It under him. "You must sit down at once," she
cried. ^
" But I am not tired," he replied.
"Oh, you must sit down, you mu9t, Captain Brice." He
started at the title, which came so prettily from her lips.
" Won t you please ? " she said pleadingly.
He sat down. And, as the sun peeps out of a troubled
sky, she smiled.
" It is your chair," she said.
He glanced at the book, and the bit of sky was crimson.
. Bui still he said nothing.
" It is your book," she stammered. « I did not know
thf It was yours when I took it down. I _ I was look-
ing at It while I was waiting for Clarence."
"It is dry reading," he remarked, which was not what
he wished to say.
"And yet—"
"Yes?"
"And yet you have read it twice." The confession
nad slipped to her lips.
She was sitting on the edge of his desk, looking down
at him. Still he did not look at her. AD the will that
was left him averted his head. And the seal of honor
was upon his speech. And he wondered if man were
ever more tempted.
Then the evil spread its wings, and soared away into
tne night. And the moment was past. Peace seemed
to come upon them both, quieting the tumult i- their
hearts, and giving them back their reason. Respect like-
wise came to the giri, — respect that was akin to awe. It
was he who spoke first.
"My mother has told me how faithfully you nursed
the Judge, Miss Carvel. It was a very noble thing to
CIO*
« Not noble at all," she replied hastily. " Your mother
did the most of it. And he is an old friend of ,
father—"
\r''^.^^js^:^ui'''^m^
IN JUDGE WHIPPLE'S OFFICE 453
mine wa. no atonement^tlorjudte Xpple ""it IT
any one on this earth." ° '■""" ^"'' '«»'«' ">»■>
"Tell me alwut him," said Stephen, eentlv
been, and th^^ I'e Z deri^dT^ Sttl^en'^ttt'""'
dreams of her! ?hX"te?v oWS).''''* T °J "»« """y
beyond our ken »»„ ^j "'' ""* "' *« '-ner life
hadn„t"ebeIlfoLZl°°'?°"" ? '™« "^en she
Hste>,ed to he? v"ce wrth^fr"'"- ■/"'? '"'"-^ ^e
modulations, M he it the^nt?'*"""''.'?'' *"■«» «•"'
rc'SetrTnVsrr "terr r' *»*"^^
God uses to tie the wnrlTV Ju '"^i^^^tic force which
her. Andyej'JhXiSn'reatL"" "^"'^ ""^ '»
of I^t^ran^rto^Vr-rsto^'lT^Lrr- °r
the'g^s'f^Ks hir Sor^'rr''/'* "^ "y-
pact springy. The Southerner's eve for fw iL T
qSneifcxS-S tSS-?
s i: -i i
I .
•arhr. « ,. T • "***^^ "' eiDotion 1
Who %Hs listening intently failed to mark
it.
w^'^w^-iW^^'^^m-'i
464
THE CRISIS
"I am glad to see that you have reooyered, Oolonel
Colfax," he said.
"I should indeed be without gratitude if I did not
thank Captain Brice for my life,'^ answered Clarence. '
Virginia flushed. She had detected the undue &o-.
cent on her cousin's last words, and she glanced apprehen-
sively at Stephen. His forceful reply surprised them
both.
" Miss Carvel has already thanked me sufficiently, sir,"
he said. " I am happy to have been able to have done
you a good turn, and at the same time to have served her
so well. It was she who saved your life. It is to her
your thanks are chiefly due. I believe that I am not
going too far, Colonel Colfax," he added, " when I con-
gratulate you both."
Before her cousin could recover, Virginia slid down
from the desk and had come between them. How her
eyes shone and her lip trembled as she gazed at him,
Stephen has never forgotten. What a woman she was
as sho took her cousins arm and made him a curtsey.
" What you have done may seem a light thing to you.
Captain Brice," she said. "That is apt to be the way
with those who have big hearts. You have put upon
Colonel Colfax, and upon me, a life's obligation."
When she began to speak, Clarence raised his head.
As he glanced, incredulous, from her to Stephen, his look
gradually softened, and when she had finished, his man-
ner had become again frank, boyish, impetuous — nay,
penitent. He seized Stephen's hand.
"Forgive me, Brice," he cried. "Forgive me. I
should have known better. I — I did you an injustice,
and you, Virginia. I was a fool — a scoundrel."
Stephen shook his head.
" No, you were neither," he said. Then upon his face
came the smile of one who has the strength to renounce
all that is dearest to him — that smile of the unselfish,
sweetest of all. It brought tears to Virginia. She was
to see it once again, upon the features of one who bore a
cross, — Abraham Lincoln. Clarence looked, and then be
m JUDGE WHIPPLE'S OFFICE 465
warbuTCr/l.^^^^' '» «"> '^"^y> » one who
"J'^»"'"»l»e whispered.'
stanCtotro^tigrS- '" '^'P'"'"' -"» "«
" Captain Brice I "
" Yes," he answered.
" My father is in the Judire's room » «>. • j
" Your fathflr f »» i,^ i *^ ^^™' ^*^® said.
"TK-Vv hetxclaimed. "I thought "
^^P^'tTJ^.tZX'^.'i^^^^y- so
Stephen stared at her, troubled '^nj J 1 u
ehan^d She took . stepwi h^"'^;;^^,"-"
gose^than to see n.e' '^.^CZ^-^\^: f^C
" Ym/?" 8*™" •"« "ord to Mr. Brinsmade ? "
« noT'Cmrj' qS:- ""'"' ^''^ «™™'«^« -otions
Then he ^^n'^^^ZX^^'^SZ^^ ^^^^T
2k
CHAPTER XI
LEAD, KINDLY LIGHT
When the Judge opened his eyes for the last time in
this world, they fell first upon the face of his old friend,
Colonel Carvel. Twice he tried to speak his name, and
twice he failed. The third time he said it faintly.
« Comyn I " ^
"Yes, Silas."
" Comyn, what are you doing here ? "
"I reckon I came to see you., Silas," answered the
Colonel.
" To see me die," said the Judge, grimly.
Colonel Carvel's face twitched, and the silence in that
little room seemed to throb.
" Comyn," said the Judge again, " I heard that you had
gone South to fight against your country. I see you here.
Can it be that you have at last returned in your {dlegiance,
to the flag for which your forefathers died ? "
Poor Colonel Carvel I
" I am still of the same mind, Silas," he said.
The Judge turned his face away, his thin lips moving
as in prayer. But they knew that he was not praying.
" Silas," said Mr. Carvel, " we were friends for twenty
years. Let us be friends again, before — "
" Before I die," the Judge interrupted. " I am ready
to die. Yes, I am ready. I have had a hard life, Comyn,
and few friends. It was my fault. I — I did not know
how to make them. Yet no man ever valued those few
more than I. But," he cried, the stern fire unquenched
to the last, " I would that God had spared me to see this
Rebellion stamped out. For it will be stamped out." To
those watching, his eyes seemed fixed on a distant point,
466
LEAD, KINDLY LIGHT
Amid profoiinienrheCnliVl"" ""» »'«'•"
from wh£h he had S h?. STl '^''. "" *•>« Pi'lows
it was btephen's mother who sdoWp ♦» w i j
might lUten to:itttog Vi^T" r^^r* ^* ''«
fi'ici^m7.?if-£Hir^^.!t:|^
him, 'No, sir, I am not Senator WiSi» °* ' ^*<i *<>
relation of h s/ « the Sn Y.H ^^'t' f "* ' *«» "«
after that, Mrs. Brice he mtl^ h ^'^^^^ ^ ^^^ *» ^^e
easier_a litSe sweeter Tknnr^w ^.t °^^ "^« * lit««
like that. But it wm bv in-? *M*^^^ *^^ ^o* all
embittered when I wTaW-Hpt *^'T *5** ^ ™
spoke again, it was m^rj s'S'wly, m:rf7^l'?i:'''- *^1
them had heard him sneak in ill i?- i/^ V ' *"*° a^J' of
that some of the Wernts w^i^ ^'^^ ^^°'^- " I ^«h
come to me thenl S'^^^^f^^^^ ^°\ ^^'^vujg now had
my little share in makinlTKf L ^J^'S^^ have done
live in, as all of ^ou h^f done'^'^Yes' ^"^n *'^. P^*^« *°
now doing for me T am lil ° .?^®^' *^ **" ^^ you are
opinion of frthr I I'e" t^ Me't'od^i^dl''^""
been softened Ihen ? tank T^'^^t ff"' ' """'-> I^™
He did." '*""■* '^'^ that He sent you when
pilW. "''"" "^"""l l"" head, and a tear feU upon hia
m
468
THE CRISIS
** I have done nothing,** she marmored, ** nothing."
** So shall they answer at the last whom He has chosen,**
said the Judge. " I was sick, and ye visited me. He has
Eromised to remember those who do that. Hold up your
ead, my daughter. God has been good to you. He has
given you a son whom all men may look in the face, of
whom you need never be ashamed. Stephen," said the
Judge, "come here."
Stephen made his way to the bedside, but because of the
moisture in his eves he saw but dimly the gaunt face.
And yet he shrank back in awe at the change in it. So
must all of the martyrs have looked when the fire of the
faggots licked their feet. So must John Bunyan have
stared through his prison bars at the sky.
" Stephen, ' he said, " you have been faithful in a few
things. So shall you be made ruler over many things.
The little I have 1 leave to you, and the chief of this is
an untarnished name. I know that you will be true to it
because I have tried your strength. Listen carefully to
what I have to say, for I have thought over it long. In
the days gone by our fathers worked for the good of the
people, and they had no thought of gain. A time is com-
ing when we shall need that blood and that bone in tnis
Republic. Wealth not yet dreamed of will flow out of
this land, and the waters of it will rot all save the pure,
and corrupt all save the incorruptible. Half-tried men
will go down before that flood. You and those like you
will remember how your fathers governed, — strongly,
sternly, justly. It was so that they governed themselves.
Be vigilant. Serve your city, serve your state, but above
all serve your country."
He paused to catch his breath, which was coming pain-
fully now, and reached out his bony hand to seek Stephen's.
" I was harsh with you at first, my son," he went on.
"I wished to try you. And when I had tried you I
wished your mind to open, to keep pace with the growth
of this nation. I sent you to see Abraham Lincoln —
that you might be bom again — in the West. You were
bom again. I saw it when you came back. I saw it in
LEAD, KINDLY LIGHT 449
CoaMli«t°l,P'^"J"' «":?'• ^^ '"dde" eloquence.
hi8 apirit might possess their 8pii?t I " °"^^ *^**
ine last word was scarcely audible Thnv «fonf^j *
doS^y *^ "^^ '<""■• ^-ffl^K ««» robbing, from the
" You «n't gwine away, Marae Jedge ? "
I J:te^'^'^tffiS,.^»- ■'-e se^ed me weU.
no:e°o"^^&"J:;er^:L'r^i'^rt^etrs^'~
man was against me. Yon -y"S We ^k^lf ZT
^;^H^!CJe^Sed.^"^'''»^«-^^^'"^-^^^
"Uncle Silas I » she faltered.
wet upon her.laShes as she u^Jid the'buUon a^TsThJolT
There, on apiece of cotton twine, hun^ a little kev S^I
took It off, but still his hands held her. ^* ^^^
1 I
^^'S;
470
THE CRISIS
"I have taved it for you, my dear," he said. "God
blew you— why did his eyes seek Stephen's?— "and
make your life happy. Virginia — will you play my —
hymn — once more — once more?"
They lifted the night lamp from the piano, and
the medicine. It was Stephen who stripped it of the
black cloth it had worn, who stood by Virginia ready to
lift the hd when she had turned the lock. The girl's
exaltation gave a trembling touch divine to the well-
remembered chords, and those who heard were lifted,
lifted far above and beyond the power of earthly spell.
" f*'1'J!^*"**^y ^*K*»*' »°>*<* *•»• enoiroling gloom,
Lead Thou me on 1 » • »
J**®,"^^^' *" ***'''^' *"<* ' *°^ f*r from home,
Lead Thon roe on.
Keep Thou mj feet I I do not Mk to see
The distant soene ; one step enough for me."
A sigh shook Silas Whipple's wasted frame, and so he
died.
CHAPTER Xn
f|
f
i
THE LAST OABD
Mb. Brinsmadb and the Doctor were the first to leave
the httle room where Silas Whipple had lived and worked
and died, Mr. Brinsmade bent upon one of those errands
which claimed him at all times. He took Shadrach with
him. Virginia sat on, a vague fear haunting her, — a fear
for her fathers safety. Where was Clarence? What
had he seen '/Was the place watched ? These questions,
at first intruding upon her sorrow, remained to torture
her.
Softly she stirred from the chair where she had sat
before the piano, and opened the door of the outer office.
A clock m a steeple near by was striking twelve. The
Coionel did not raise his head. Only Stephen saw her
^°J,!?^ u ^" eyes foUowing her, and as she slipped
out lifted hers to meet them for a brief instant through
the opening of the door. Then it closed behind her.
I^irst of all she knew that the light in the outer office
was burning dimly, and the discovery gave her a shock.
Who had turned it down ? Had Clarence ? Was he
here ? Fearfully searching the room for him, her gaze was
held by a figure in the recess of the window at the back of
the room. A solid, bulky figure it was, and, though
uncertainly outlined in the semi-darkness, she knew it.
She took a step nearer, and a cry escaped her.
The man was Eliphalet Hopper. He got down from
tne sill with a motion at once sheepish and stealthy. Her
breath caught, and instinctively she gave back toward the
door, as if to open it again.
« Hold on I " he said. " I've got something I want t«
say to you. Miss Virginia."
'471
l^
ii«i
:.£^CE^SGI-'
JJ
472
THE CRISIS
sSnTni ' '^?>Pi repeating to herself. BuT how to It ?
Suddenljr an idea flashed upSn her. "* '^
1 ain t here to see the Judge."
nn^^ Qf Pa)\and quite motionless. And she faltered
" What do you mean ? "
thJ|»^ t ;, -^l^^,!^ ^- was
^riLrarh?rno"w,Tn^ Clr'^ ^A^id-^Ju donT^
M^r! L:;"V ^'^^^ "- aorn^^eirJ^he^-^
By^a'sZim'J «i '^1,™ *^*^°?' »»«^ lids half closed.
S him^TClft '^^- T^«^'«d her terror and looked
"How I^re l?u «Z W ^"^ "^S ''^k intensified now.
she ^id -l/rJ^^f^ ""f *^^ ^h»t ha« happened! "
ahe said. If Colonel Carvel were here, he wouff- HU
He^^Sin^Sff /* ^^"f"'® *"d *h« ^o^d, involuntarily
He wiped his forehead, hot at the very thought ^
Thin T^'«^i°- ^ ^v ^^"^l^i'ned' in fainXearted irony.
Then, remembering his advantage, he stepped close 4Xr.
"fe*^
ill
••Twice Stephen shook him so that his head beat cpojj the table"
f i
. -••^;/.^-' i^.
-j^ii^l '-^^i '
*ss
THE LAST CAED 473
tWr^^^^ttar^^^^^ VHeis.here,inthat
^^^^^^^^ W hi. hung if I
Still hi« K0I """^^ ' >^' if yo" choose ! "
stre^ ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ ^^^--^ and his face closer. And her
"tL^^rbutl^^r^^^^^ *" P5^'': ^« ««id hoarsely,
op?n^"Xtts*«^^^^^^ f -^ ^ear the door
She heard it close aJaTn anr. f /? **^^^ ^^^^ ««"nd-
She knew the stepiTe knew fh«*'*'P ^''^^ *^« ^°«°»-
leaped at the souSd of it inTn^er ""T' '"^ ^'' ^'^''
sleeve came between them ^nS^pi"- J"^ ^''™ ^^ ^ blue
gered and fell acroi t h! k 1^ E^^Phalet Hopper sta^-
Sis face. Above h,^ towL'etstenh'' 't?'-^' ^« ^^^^ ^«
was the impression tW 0^11 v^^^^^ ^."'^^- ^^"'^'•^^
thought of^ the scene ever«ff. "^^"^ ?"°' *°^ «<> «he
pointe of tempered steer^HtflT'^c ^.^^^ ^'^^^ like
"ShaU I km Toa" «Pe<!ted Hopper to reply:
touln. Usfr^ "^ ■' -"y- Ho feJt Virgini...
Ord^te'ciref^'.?"""'' "y»" "<»"<>« ' Be careful ,
met he.,. Even he eo9d ^n^r^^^ 'l™ ^ '"'» «ye»
yearning, in thet?di?kM«denL^^T. *? 'fP*?'' tl-*
there made him tremble SlT.K' j'*"^ y*' ''''»' •>« »"
^ "Plea^ .it dZ/^shert^^-'/W. tumbling too.
touch me again while you arehe™ " 'He -he won't
f
474
THE CRISIS
Ehphalet Hopper raised himself from the desk, and one
of the big books fell with a crash to the floor. Then they
saw him shrink, his eyes fixed upon some one behind
them. Before the Judge's door stood Colonel Carvel, in
calm, familiar posture, his feet apart, and his head bent
forward as he pulled at his goatee.
"What is this man doing here, Virginia?" he asked.
She did not answer him, nor did .speech seem to come
easily to Mr. Hopper in that instant. Perhaps the sight
of Colonel Carvel had brought before him too vividly the
memory of that afternoon at Glencoe.
All at once Virginia grasped the fiUness of the power
m this man's hands. At a word from Lim her father
would be shot as a spy —and Stephen Brice, perhaps, as a
traitor. But if Colonel Carvel should learn that he had
seized her, — here was the terrible danger of the situation.
Well she knew what the Colonel would do. Would
Stephen tell him ? She trusted in his coolness that he
would not.
Before a word of reply came from any of the three, a
noise was heard on the stairway. Some one was coming
up. There followed fo-ir seconds of suspense, and then
Clarence came in. She saw that his face wore a worried,
dejected look. It changed instantly when he glanced
about him, and an oath broke from his lips as he singled
out Eliphalet Hopper standing in sullen aggressiveness
beside the table.
"So you're the spy, are you?" he said in disgust.
Then he turned his back and faced his uncle. "I saw
him in Williams's entry as we drove up. He got awav
from me.' r & j
A thought seemed to strike him. He strode to the
open window at the back of the office, and looked out.
There was a roof under it.
" The sneak got in here," he said. " He knew I was
waiting for him in the street. So you're the spy, are
you ? "
Mr. Hopper passed a heavy hand across the cheek where
Stephen had struck him.
mE££SBSk^.jrGfm2 Ti
r^^ =ri_r^aiB)'JsiSr~^:EZ9mst!S > "7^
THE LAST CARD
47ff
the' Co W^'* *** "^^'" ^' "*'"*' ""''^ * ""'^"^"^ »^^«« »*
fiercl/'^'' "^^^^ ^"^ ^""^ '^'''''^ ^^''^ • " *^«™anded Clarence,
"I cal'late that A. knows," Eliphalet replied, jerking
his head toward Colonel Carvel. " Where's his Confed
erate uniform? What's to prevent mrcalW up the"
provost's guard below?" he continued, Lh a smi?e^hat
was hideous on his swelling face.
ver* ™ rl^^ ^^^^^^^ who answered him, very quickly and
"Nothing whatever, Mr. Hopper," he said. "This is
the way out." He pointed at the door. Stephen, who
was watching hiin, could not tell whether it were a grim
smile that creased the corners of the Colonel's mouth as
lie added, "You might prefer the window."
Mr. Hopper did not move, but his eyes shifted to Vir-
?u°'^ lul^' S.*6P^e» deliberacely thrust himself between
them that he might not see her.
"What are you waiting for ? " said the Colonel, in the
o.Z^'^r ^^^r ^^^"^^ ^^^® ^®° ^r ominous warning.
btiU Mr. Hopper did not move. It was clear that he
had not reckoned upon all of this; that he had waited in the
window to deal with Virginia alone. But now the verv
force of a desire which had gathered strength in manv
years made him reckless. His voice took on the oilv
quality la which he was wont to bargain.
..4^*'® }^ ^*^™ *^°"* *^^« business. Colonel," he said.
We won t say anything about the past. But I ain't set
on having you shot. There's a consideration that would
stop me, and I cal'late you know what it is."
Then the Colonel made a motion. But before he had
taken a step Virginia had crossed the room swiftly, and
flung herself upon him. ^
" Oh, don't. Pa .' " she cried. " Don't I Tell him that I
will agree to it. Yes, I wiU. I can't have you — shot."
Ihe last word came falteringly, faintly.
"Let me go, —honey," whispered the Colonel, gently.
His eyes did not leave EHphalet. He tried to disengage
) \
' ^e^MKi&s.^ ?r,'::s9^mGm
Tv3r
476
THE CRISIS
himself, but her fingers were clasped about his neck in a
passion of fear and love. And then, while she clung to
him, her head was raised to listen. The sound of Stephen,
Brice's voice held her as in a spell. His words were com-
ing coldly, deliberately, and yet so sharply that each
seemed to fall like a lash.
"Mr. Hopper, if ever I hear of your repeating what
you have seen or heard in this room, I will make this city
and this state too hot for you to live in. I know you. I
know how you hide in areas, how you talk sedition in
private, how you have made money out of other men's
misery. And, what is more, I can prove that you have
had traitorous dealings with the Confederacy. General
Sherman has been good enough to call himself a friend of
mine, and if he prosecutes you for your dealings in Mem-
phis, you will get a term in a Government prison. You
ought to be hung. Colonel Carvel has shown you the
door. Now go."
And Mr. Hopper went.
^m,'
CHAPTER XIII
FROM THE LETTERS OF MAJOR STEPHEN BRICB
Of the Staff of General Sherman on the March to the Sea,
and on the March from Savannah Northward
Headquarters Military Division of the Mississippi.
GoLDSBORO, N.C. March 24, 1865.
thRl""^ .^"^"""t^ '' T^^^ ^°^*^. ^*^°^°» Campaign is a
thing of the past. I pause as I write these woJds — thev
seem so incredible to me. We have marched the four
hundred and twenty-five miles in fifty days, and the Gen
eral himself has said that it is the longes^tVnd most i^^^
portent march ever made by an organized army in a
civihzed country. I know ttat you will not be misled
by t^e words « civilized country." Not until the history
of this campaign is written will the public realize tS
wide rivers and all but impassable swamps we have
crossed with our baggage trains and artillery. The
roads (by courtesy so called) were a sea of molasses ;
and every mile of them has had to be corduroyed. For
hZ'ii''T^1^r'! ^ ^^ ^°* ^"*« y«" ^'o^ Savannah
vZ *^^yj*"«^^«/ «* "3 ^?5 storting at that season of the
Lio™«i k T-^^'^.r '"''"^'^ "°* S") *e° °^iles, and I most
solemnly believe that no one but " Uncle Billv " and an
tTUf^^'''' V .t^^ ^^l^^PP^d ^y ^^^ ««»ld have gone
ten miles. Nothing seems to stop him. You Save
Sf. i*^J V^"'?^^ ^° ?® *«°« <^^ "^y letters ever since
^my Ge^eX'"" ''^ * ^^"^^ admiration for
It seems very strange that this wonderful tactician can be
the same man 1 met tliat day going to the Arsenal in the
street car, and agam at Camp Jackson. I am sure that his-
477
I ,
478
THE CRISIS
tory will give him a high place among the commanders of the
world. Certainly none was ever more tireless than he.
He never fights a battle when it can be avoided, and his
march into Columbia while threatening Charleston and
Augusta was certainly a master stroke of strategy.
I think his simplicity his most remarkable trait. You
should see him as he rides through the army, an cx-ect
figure, with 1 13 clothes all angular and awry, and an ex-
pause of white sock showing above his low shoes. You
can hear his name running from file to file ; and some-
times the new regiments can't resist cheering. He gen-
eralhr says to the Colonel : — © s
" Stop that noise, sir. Don't like it."
On our march to the sea, if the orders were ever given
to turn northward, " the boys " would get very much de-
pressed. One moonlight night I was walking my horse
close to the General's over the. pine needles, when we
overheard this Conversation between two soldiers: —
^ "Say, John," said one, "I guess Uncle Billy don't
Know our corps is goin' north."
" I wonder if he dcos," said John. " If I could only
get a sight of them white socks, I'd know it was all
right."
The General rode past without a word, but I heard him
telling the story to Mower the next day.
I can find little if any change in his manner since I
knew him first. He is brusque, brt kindly, and he has
the same comradeship with oflBcers and men and even
the negroes who flock to our army. But few dare to take
advantage of it, and they never do so twice. I have been
very near to him, and have tried not to worry him or ask
many foolish questions. Sometimes on the march he will
beckon me to close up to him, and we have a conversation
something on this order : —
" There's Kenesaw, Brice."
"Yes, sir."
Pointing with his arm.
"Went beyond lines there with small party. Rebel
battery on summit. Had to git. Fired on. Next day I
M'-«*5i'V4JES5-"3»¥^'r-&>T'^«>K'i WC
FROM THE LETTERS OF STEPHEN BRICE 479
thought Rebels would leave in the night. Got up before
dayhght, fixed telescone on stand, ani waited. ^aVched
v«?v .Jr'^T* J^S ^^^- S»^ ^""^ blue man creep up.
Thought r^ """^"^ '^''''^^ ^ ^**- ^^^ »°»«-
talk^ 4ZJ'''' ^''i'' H°^idJa of the vividness of his
talk. When we make a halt for any time, the general
officers and their staffs flock to headq^uarter; to liftenTo
?t1« ft?'-rT^-° ^V^l^'^^ ^^« ™^«' *^« perceptioS of
It 18 like a lightning flash, - and he acte as qSickly.
.fSl- *^«,^*y' I^ave just found the letter he wrote me,
offering this staff position. Please keep it carefully,^
It IS something I shall value all my life. ^'
Gaylesville, Alabama, October 26. 1864
Major Stephen A. Bbice: "«r-6o, ioo4.
Dear Sir, — The world goes on, and wicked men sound asleeo
!^™o5 work, -.80 If you expect to share in our calamity
come down I offer you this fast chance for staff dutrand
hope you have had enough in the field. I do not wish to
hurj you, but you can't get aboard a ship at sea So ifyou
Yours truly,
W. T. Sherman, Major General.
One night -at Cheraw, I think it was -he sent for
me to telk to him. I found him lying on a bed of Spwiish
moss they had made for him. He'^asled me a greatTany
questions about St. Louis, and praised Mr. BrinsS
especially his management of the Sanitary Commission.
Cr.^fl^\ ^^^^i^' after a while, "you remember when
Grant sent me to beat off Joe Johnston's army from Vicks-
burg. You were wounded then, by the way, in that dash
agTir JoTntn.^"^* ^'^'^^'^ ^^ «"^^^' ^« -- -
^-He's wUy, Sherman,' said he. 'He's a dangerous
"'Grant,' said I, 'you give me men enough and time
' TZ-smag!imsssasMW%s-z-
?5r'T?'ae«' -:?-' arfPeiviHP ^wp5B«t t.
480
THE CRISIS
de^l^'*"*** ^^^ °^*' ***® ground, and Vm not afraid of the
Nothing could sum up the man better than that. And
now what a trick of fate it is that he has Johnston before
him again, in what we hope will prove the last gasp of the
war I He hkes Johnston, by the way, and has the greatest
respect for him. ®
I wish you could have peeped into our camp once in a
while. In the rar" bursts of sunshine on this march our
premises have been decorated with gay red blankets, and
sombre gray ones brought from the quartermasters, and
white Hudson s Bay blankets (not so white now), all beine
between forked sticks. It is wonderful how the pitching
of a few tents, and the busy crackle of a few fires, and the
sound of voices —sometimes merry, sometimes sad, depend-
ing on the weather, will change the look of a lonely pine
knoll. You ask me how we fare. I should be heartily
ashamed if a word of complaint ever fell from my lips.
But the men ! Whenever I wake up at night with my
feet in a puddle between the blankets, I think of the men.
Ihe corduroy roads which our horses stumble over
through the mud, they make as well as march on. Our
flies are carried in wagons, and our utensils and provisions.
Ihey must often bear on their backs the little dog-tents,
under which, put up by their own labor, they crawl to
sleep, wrapped in a blanket they have carried all day,
perhaps waist deep in water. The food they eat has been
m their haversacks for many a weary mile, "and is cooked
m the little skillet and pot which have also been a part of
their burden. Then they have their musket and accoutre-
ments, and the " forty rounds " at their backs. Patiently,
cheerily tramping along, going they know not where, nor
care much either, so it be not in retreat. Ready to make
roads, throw up works, tear up railroads, or hew out and
build wooden bridges ; or, best of all, to go for the John-
nies under hot sun or heavy rain, through swamp and mire
and quicksand. They marched ten miles to storm Fort
McAllister. And how the cheers broke from them when
the pop pop pop of the skirmish line began after we came
FROM THE LETTERS OF STEPHEN BRICE 481
in sight of Savannah ! No man who has seAn hnf ««*
shared their life may talk of persona? ha^ds^ip. ' "'*
pffj!.- ""'^•"'^ *^ ^^'' Prettv little town yesterday so
effecting a junction witf ScUeld, who got in wi?f 'the
lit fl u?\*^!, ^^y ^^^«'«- I a°» writing at General
xtsdav 'at fif r:'T ^5^'^ "f ' b^^ -' ' I'atr on
luesaay at Benton ville, and we have come hither in
smoke, as usual. But this time we thank Heaven thlt
It IS not the smoke of burning homes, -only some resfn
the « Johnnies" set on fire before they left ^ ^
I must close. General Sherman has just sent for me.
On Board Despatch Boat " Martin."
r» „ ^^ Sea, March 25, 1865.
Dear Mother : A most curious thing has hannened
But I may as well begin at the beginning. Then I
stopped writing last evening at the^ summons of the
General, I was about to tell you something of the battle
of Bentonyille on Tuesday last. Mower charged throueh
as bad a piece of wood and swamp as I ever saw and cS
withm one hundred yards of JoCon hlmsdfT'who ^al
at the bridge across Mill Creek. Of course we did Znl
know this at the time, and learned it from prisoners
As I have written you, I have been under fire very
w! ''"'1 '°"''°? *° ^^^ «*»«f- When the battle opele/
wrthe'i'b^hTnd tV' ' ''^'^i V'"" '""^ Genera? who
was tnen behind the reserves) I would see litHe f.^
Z^yi ir'^^f^^ ""' gWinformaUon" beyond the
line of battle into the woods. I did nnt fl„j tk
favorable to landscape views, and just as I was turnfne
my horse back again I caught sight of a commotion Tom!
distance to my right, ^^he Rebel skirmish C had
faUen back just that instant, two of our skirm^ers were
grappling with a third man, who was fighting desper^^^^^^^^
I struck me as singular that the fellow was not^r^ray'
but had on some sort of dark clothes ^ ^'
I could not reach them in the swamp on horseback
and was m the act of dismounting wheS the man fell
and then^they set out to carry lim to the r^ar^ stm
482
THE CBISIS
farther to my right, beyond the •wamp. I shouted, and
one of the skirmiahers came up. I aaked him what the
matter was.
" We've got a spy, sir,- he said excitedly.
"A spy I Here?" ^
"Yes, Major. He was hid in the thicket yonder,
lying flat on his face. He reckoned that our boys would
run right over him and that he'd get into our lines that
way. Tim Foley stumbled on him, and he put up as
good a fight with his fists as any man I ever saw."
Just then a regiment swept pasi us. That night I told
the General, who sent over to the headquarters of the
17th Corps to inquire. The word came back that the
man's name was Addison, and he claimed to be a Union
sympathizer who owned a plantation near by. He de-
clared that he had been conscripted by the Rebels, wounded,
sent back home, and was now about to be pressed in again.
He had taken this method of escaping to our lines. It
was a common story enough, but General Mower added
m his message that he thought the story fishy. This was
because the man's appearance was very striking, and he
seemed the type of Confederate fighter who would do and
dare anything. He had a wound, which had been a bad
one, evidently got from a piece of shell. But they had
been able to find nothing on him. Sherman sent back
word to keep the man until he could see him in person.
It was about nine o'clock last night when I reached
the house the General has taken. A prisoner's guard
was resting outside, and the hall was full of officers.
They said that the General was awaiting me, and pointed
to the closed door of a room that had been the dininj?
room. I opened it.
Two candles were burning in pewter sticks on the bare
mahogany table. There was the General sitting beside
them, with his legs crossed, holding some crumpled tissue
paper very near his eyes, and reading. He did not look
up when I entered. I was aware of a man standing, tall
and straight, just out of range of the jandles' rays. He
wore the easy dress of a Southern planter, with the broad
■*im-^wmF-^- .■j^j\4]S'.M
FROM THE LETTERS OF STEPHEN BRICE 483
felt hat. The head was flung baok so that there was just
a patch of light on the chin, and the lids of the eyes in
the shadow were half closed.
My sensatiou<} are worth noting. For the moment
I felt precisely as I had when I was hit by that bullet in
Lauman's charge. I was aware of something very like
pain, yet I comd not place the cause of it. But this is
what since has made me feel queer: you doubtless re-
member staying at Hollinffdean, when I was a boy, and
hearing the story of Lord Northwell's daredevil Royalist
ancestor, — the one with the lace collar over the dull-gold
velvet, and the pointed chin, and the lazy scorn in the
eyes. Those eyes are painted with drooping lids. The
first time I saw Clarence Colfax I thought of that picture
— and now I thought of the picture first.
The General's voice startled me.
" Major Brice, do you know this gentleman ? '* he
asked.
" Yes, General."
"Who is he?"
" His name is Colfax, sir — Colonel Colfax, I think."
" Thought so," said the General.
I have thought much of that scene since, as I am steam-
ing northward over green seas and under cloudless skies,
and it has seemed very unreal. I should almost say
supernatural when I reflect how I have run across this
man again and again, and always opposing him. I can
recall just how he looked at the i^ave auction, which
seems so long ago : very handsome, very boyish, and
yet with the air of one to be deferred to. It was suffi-
ciently remarkable that I should have found him in Vicks-
burg. But now — to be brought face to face with him
in this old dining room in Goldsboro' I And he a prisoner
— a spy.
He had not moved. I did not know how he would act,
but I went up to him and held out my hand, and said : —
" How do you do, Colonel Colfax ? "
I am sure that my voice was not very stead v, for I can-
not help liking him. And then his face ligLted up and
liir^B-aiJBar-sapv-.'w ^atm
rib^. ......iLf. .iw-*^
y-nprn^BT-wnWffTSH'Tt '
484
THE CRISIS
he gave me his hand. And he smiled a. me and amin at
the General, as much at to say that it was all over. He
has a wonderful smile.
" We seem to run into each other, Major Brioe," said
The pluck of the man was superb. I could see that the
General, too, was moved, from the way he looked at him.
And he speaks a little more abruptly at such times.
" Guess that settles it, Colonel,^' he said.
"I reckon it does. General," siiid Clarence, still smiling.
The General turned from him to the table with a kind
of jerk and clapped his hand on the tissue paper.
" These speak for themselves, sir," he said. " It is very
plain that they would have reached the prominent citizens
for whom they were intended if you had succeeded in
your enterprise. You were captured out of uniform.
You know enough of war to appreciate the risk you ran.
Any statement to make ? "
" No, sir."
" Call Captain Vaughan, Brice, and ask him to conduct
the prisoner back."
"May I speak to him. General?" I asked. The Gen-
eral nodded.
I asked him if I could write home for him — or do any-
thing else. That seemed to touch him. Some day I shall
tell you what he said.
Then Vaughan took him out, and I heard the guard
shoulder arms and tramp away in the night. The General
and I were left alone with the mahogany table between
us, and a family portrait of somebody looking down on
us from the shadow on the wall. A moist spring air came
in at the open windows, and the candles flickered. After
a silence, I ventured to say : —
"I hope he won't be shot. General."
"Don't know, Brice," he answered. " Can't tell now.
Hate to shoot him, but war is war. Magnificent class he
belongs to — pity we should have to fight those fellows."
He paused, and drummed on the table. " Brice," said he,
" I m gomg to send you to General Grant at City Point
PROM THE LETTERS OP STEPHEN BRICE 485
with despatches. I'm sorry Dunn went back yesterday,
but it can't be helped. Can you start in half an hour ? '^
"Yes, sir."
♦♦ You'll have to ride to Kinston. The railroad won't
be through until to-morrow. I'll telegraph there, and to
General Easton at Morehead City. I^'ll have a boat for
you. Tell Grant I expect to run up there in a day or two
myself, when things are arranged here. You may wait
until I come."
" Yes, sir."
I turned to go, but Clarence Colfax was on my mind.
" General ? '^
"Eh I what?"
" General, could you hold Colonel Colfax until I see you
again ? "
It was a bold thing to say, and I quaked. And he
looked at me in his keen way, through and through.
"You saved his life once before, didn't you?"
" You allowed me to have him sent home from Vicks-
burg, sir."
He answered with one of his jokes — apropos of some-
thing he said on the Court House steps at Vicksburg.
Perhaps I shall tell it to you sometime.
" Well, well," he said, " I'll see, I'll see. Thank God
this war is pretty near over. I'll let you know, Brice,
before I shoot him."
I rode the thirty odd miles to Kinston in a little more
than three hours. A locomotive was waiting for me, and
I jumped into a cab with a friendly engineer. Soon we
were roaring seaward through the vast pine forests. It
was a lonely journey, and you were much in my mind.
My greatest apprehension was that we might be derailed
and the despatches captured ; for as fast as our army
had advanced, the track of it had closed again, like the
wake of a ship at sea. Guerillas were roving about, tear-
ing up ties and destroying bridges.
There was one five-minute interval of excitement when,
far down the tunnel through the forest, we saw a light
gleaming. The engineer said there was no house there" —
I
-T--
488
THE CRISIS
that it must be a fire. But we did not slacken our speed,
and gradually the leaping flames grew larger and redder
until we were upon them.
Not one gaunt figure stood between them and us. Not
one shot broke the stillness of the night. As dawn broke
I beheld the flat, gray waters of the Sound stretching away
to the eastward, and there was the boat at the desolate
wharf beside the warehouse, her steam rising white in the
chiU morning air.
cSn
CHAPTER XIV
THE SAMB, CONTINUED
Hbadquartebs Armies of thk UmTED States,
CiTT PowT, ViBOiNiA, March 28, 1865.
Deab Motheb : I arrived here safely the day before
yesterday, and I hope that you will soon receive some of
the letters I forwarded on that day. It is an extraordinary
place, this City Point ; a military city sprung up like a
mushroom in a winter. And my breath was quite taken
away when I firet caught sight of it on the high table-land.
The great bay in front of it, which the Appomattox helps
to make, is a maze of rigging and smoke-pipes, like the
harbor of a prosperous seaport. There are gunboats and
supply boats, schooners and square-riggers and steamers,
all huddled together, and our captain pointed out to me
the Malvern flying Admiral Porter's flag. Barges were
tied up at the long wharves, and these were piled high
with wares and flanked by squat warehouses. Although
it was Sunday, a locomotive was pufBng and panting along
the foot of the ragged bank.
High above, on the flat promontory between the two
rivers, is the city of tents and wooden huts, the great trees
in their fresh faint green towering above the low roofs.
At the point of the Wuff a large flag drooped against its
staff, and I did not have to be told ^t this was General
Grant's headquarters.
There was a fine steamboat lying at the wharf, and I
had hardly stepped ashore before they told me she was
President Lincoln's. I read the name on her — the Eiver
Queen. Yes, tiie President is here, too, with his wife and
family.
There are many fellows here with whom I was brought
487
: II
488
THE CRISIS
up in Boston^ I am living with Jack Hancock, whom you
wm ^remember well. He is a captain now/and h^a
a^alJ r'^K^^^'u °''.'^^^ "y «*<'^- I ^e^t straight to
hnT ^™°*^ headquarters, -just a plain, rough slaJ
house such as a contractor might build for a temoorarv
Sl^ZL Vl '^' ^'^^ ^^?^^ *°d *^« Stars and S^iS
distinguish It from many others of the same kind A
m^lLf ?f "^ n' '*^''? ^^^"^°^ °^*«^^« «^ it' and they told
me that the General had walked over to get his mail
He IS just as unassuming and democratic as "my general."
General Rankin took me into the office, a rude^Som, «^d
nl^A ""T ** *^^ ^^^^ ^^^^ there. Presently the door
opened, and a man came in with a slouch hat on and his
r fet rrLt^d^. ^^ ^-^^^^ ^ ^^^^^- ^^ -- ^
nothil*^ ^^ general-in-chief. He stared at me, but said
«t.ff^®T *t *¥^ i« Major Brice of General Sherman's
lUnkin brought despatches from Goldsboro'," said
He nodded, to, k oflf his hat and laid it on the table
and reached out for the despatches. While reading theS
he did not move, except to light another cigar. I am
getting hardened to unrealities, — perhaps I should sav
marvels, now. Our country abounds in them. It did
not seem so strange that this sUent General with the
baggy trousers was the man who had risen by leaps and
bounds in four years to be general-in-chief of our wmies.
His face looks older and more sunken than it did on that
day in the street near the Arsenal, in St. Louis, when
he was just a mihtary carpet-bagger out of a job. He
18 not changed otherwise. But how different the im-
TtTa'Xrl^yY '"' "'° ^ ^"''^^'*^ ^°^ *^« ^^^^ --
He made a sufficient impression upon me then, as I
told you at the time. That was because I overheard his
well-merited rebuke to Hopper. But I little dreamed
that I was looking on the man who was to come out of
THE SAME, CONTINUED
489
the West and save this country from disunion. And how
quietly and simply he has done it, without parade or
pomp or vainglory. Of all those who, with every means
at their disposal, have tried to conquer Lee, he is the
only one who has in any manner succeeded. He has
been able to hold him fettered while Sherman has swept
the Confederacy. And these are the two men who were
unknown when the war began.
When the General had finished reading the despatches,
he folded them quickly and put them in his pocket.
"Sit down and tell me about this last campaign of
yours. Major," he said.
I talked with him for about half an hour. I should
rather say talked to him. He is a marked contrast to
Sherman in this respect. I believe that he only opened
his lips to ask two questions. You may well believe that
they were worth me asking, and they revealed an in-
timate knowledge of our march from Savannah. I was
interrupted many times by the arrival of different gen-
erals, aides, etc. He sat there smoking, imperturbable.
Sometimes he said " yes " or " no," but oftener he merely
nodded his head. Once he astounded by a brief question
an excitable young lieutenant, who floundered. The
General seemed to know more than he about the matter
he had in hand.
When I left him, he ai?ked me where I was quartered,
and said he hoped I would be comfortable.
Jack Hancock was waiting for me, and we walked
around the city, which even has barber shops. Every-
where were signs of preparation, for the roads are getting
dry, and the General preparing for a final campaign
against Lee. Poor Lee I What a marvellous fight he
has made with his material. I think that he will be
reckoned among the greatest generals of our race.
* Of course, I was very anxious to get a glimpse of the
President, and so we went down to the wharf, where we
heard that he had gone off for a horseback ride. They
say that he rides nearly every day, over the corduroy roads
and through the swamps, and wherever the boys see that
fi"- •»B:TFaL".?*"f s»fT.2HiHi^B«a««*
490
THE CRISIS
m\
tall hat they cheer. They know it as well as the lookout
tower on the flats of Bermuda Hundred. He lingers at
the campfires and swaps stories with the officers, and
entertains the sick and wounded in the hospitals. Isn't
it like him ?
He hasn't changed, either. I believe that the great men
don't change. Away with your Napoleons and your Marl-
boroughs and your Stuarts. These are the days of sim-
ple men who command by force of character, as well as
knowledge. Thank God for the American I I believe
that he will change the world, and strip it of its vainglory
and hypocrisy.
In the evening, as we were sitting around Hancock's
fire, an officer came in.
" Is Major Brice here ? " he asked.
I miiiped up.
" The President sends his compliments. Major, and wants
to know if you would care to pay him a little visit."
If I would care to pay him a little visit I That officer
had to hurry to keep up with me as I walked to the wharf.
He led me aboard the Biver Queen^ and stopped at the
door of the after-cabin.
Mr. Lincoln was sitting under the lamp, douched down
in his chair, in the position I remembered so well. It was
as if I had left him but yesterday. He was whittling,
and he had made some little toy for his son Tad, who ran
out as I entered.
When he saw me, the President rose to L great height,
a sombre, towering figure in black. He wears a scraggly
beard now. But the sad smile, the kindly eyes in their
dark caverns, the voice — all were just the same. I stopped
when I looked upon the face. It was sad and lined when
I had known it, but now all the agony endured by the
millions, North and South, seemed written on it.
"Don't you remember me, Major?" he asked.
The wonder was that he had remembered me I I took
his bi|f, bony hand, which reminded me of Judge Whipple's.
Yes, It was just as if I had been with him always, and he
were still the gaunt country lawyer.
THE SAME, CONTINUED
491
"Yes, sir,'* I said, "indeed I do."
He looked at me with that queer expression of mirth he
sometimes has.
" Are these Boston ways, Steve? '* he asked. " They're
tenacious. I didn't think that any man could travel so
close to Sherman and keep 'em."
" They're unfortunate ways, sir," I said, " if they lead
you to misjudge me."
He laid his hand on my shoulder, just as he had done
at Freeport.
" I know you, Steve," he said. " I shuck an ear of corn
before I buy it. I've kept tab on you a little the last five
years, and when I heard Sherman had sent a Major Brice
up here, I sent for you."
What I said was boyish. " I tried very hard to get a
glimpse of you to-day, Mr. Lincoln. I wanted to see you
again."
He was plainly pleased.
" I'm glad to hear it, Steve," he said. " Then you haven't
joined the ranks of the grumblers ? You haven't been one
of those who would have liked to try running this country
for a day or two, just to show me how to do it ? "
" No, sir," I said, laughing.
•* Good I " he cried, dapping his knee. " I didn't think
you were that kind, Steve. Now sit down and tell me
about this General of mine who wears seven-leagued boots.
What was it — four hundred and twenty miles in fifty
days? How many navigable rivers did he step across?
He began to count on those long fingers of his. "The
Edisto, the Broad, the Catawba, tiie Pedee, and — ? "
" The Cape Fear," I said.
"Is — is the Greneral a nice man?" asked Mr. Lincoln,
his eyes twinkling.
" Yes, sir, he is that," I answered heartily. " And not
a man in the army wants anything when he is around.
You should see that Army of the Mississippi, sir. They
arrived in Goldsboro' in splendid condition."
He got up and gathered his coat-tails undsr his arms,
and began to walk up and down the cabin.
I
408
THE CRISIS
" What do the boys call the General ? " he asked.
I told him " Uncle Billy." And, thinking the story of
the white socks might amuse him, I told him that. It did
amuse him.
" Well, now," he said, " any man that has a nickname
like that is all right. That's the best recommendation
you can give the General — just say ♦ Uncle Billy.' " He
put one lip over the other. " You've given ' Uncle Billy '
a good recommendation, Steve." he said. " Did you ever
hear the story of Mr. Wallace's Irish gardener ? "
"No, sir." ^
"Well, when Wallace was hiring his gardener he
asked him whom he had been living with.
"'Misther Dalton, sorr.'
" ♦ Have you a recommendation, Terence ? '
" ♦ A ricommindat^on is it, sorr ? Sure I have nothing
agin Misther Dalton, though he moightn't be knowing
just the respict the likes of a first-class crarthener is
entitled to."*
He did not laugh. He seldom does, it seems, at his
own stories. But I could not help laughing over the
" ricommiudation " I had given the General. He knew
that I was embarrassed, and said kindly : —
"Now tell me something about * Uncle Billy's Bum-
mers.' I hear that they have a most effectual way of
tearing up railroads."
I told him of Poe's contrivance of the hook and chain,
and how the heaviest rails were easily overturned with it,
and how the ties were piled and fired and the rails twisted
out of shape. The President listened to every word with
intense interest.
"By JingI" he exclaimed, "we have got a general.
Caesar burnt his bridges behind him, but Sherman burns
his rath. Now tell me some more."
He helped me along by asking questions. Then I began
to tell him how the negroes had flocked into our camps, and
how simply and plainly the General had talked to them,
advising them against violence of any kind, and explaining
to them that "Freedom " meant only the liberty to earn
:,f^W*-^
THE SAME, CONTINUED
493
their own living in their own way, and not freedom from
work.
'•* We have got a general, sure enough," he cried. *' He
talks to them plainlv, does he, so that they understand?
I say to you, Brice, he went on earnestly, " the impor-
tance of plain talk can't be overestimated. Any thought,
however abstruse, can be put in speech that a boy or a
negro can grasp. Any book, however deep, can be written
in terms tnat everybodv can comprehend, if a man only
tries hard enough. When I was a boy I used to hear the
neighbors talking, and it bothered me so because I could
not understand them that I vised to sit up half the night
thinking things out for myself. I remember that I did
not know what the word demonttrate meant. So I stopped
my studies then and there and got a volume of Euclid.
Before I got through I could demnutrate everything in it,
and I have never l^en bothered with demonstrate since."
I thought of those wonderfully limpid speeches of his : of
the Freeport debates, and of the contrast between his style
and Douglas's. And I understood the reason for it at last.
I understood the supreme mind that had conceived the
Freeport Question. And as I stood before him then, at
the close of this fearful war, the words of the Gospel were
in my mind. ** So the last shall be first, and the first,
last ; for many be called, but few chosen."
How I wished that ai "^hose who have maligned and
tortured him could talk with him as I had talked with
him. To know his great heart would disarm them of all
antagonism. They would feel, as I feel, that his life is
so much nobler than theirs, and his burdens so much
heavier, that they would go away ashamed of their
criticism.
He said to me once : " Brice, I hope we are in sight of
the end, now. I hope that we may get through without
any more fighting. I don't want to see any more of our
countrymen killed. And then," he said, as if talking to
himself, " and then we must show them mercy — mercy."
I thought it a good time to mention Colfax's case. He
has been on my mind ever since. Mr. Lincoln listened
W^r»t^- ^:-
494
THE CRISIS
attentively. Once he sighed, and he was winding his long
fingers around each other while I talked.
**I saw the man captured, Mr. Lincoln," I oonoluded.
" And if a technicality will help him out, he was actually
within his own skirmish line at the time. The Rebel
skirmishers had not fallen back on each side of him."
" Brice," he said, with that sorrowful smile, " a tech-
nicality might save Colfax, but it won't save me. Is this
man a friend of yours ? " he asked.
That wfU9 a poser.
" I think he is, Mr. Lincoln. I should Uke to call him
so. I admire him." And I went on to tell of what he
had done at Vicksburg, leaving out, however, my instru-
mentality in having him sent north. The President used
almost Sherman's words.
" By Jing I " he exclaimed. (That seems to be a favor-
ite expression of his. ) " Those fellows were born to fight.
If it wasn't for them, the South would have quit long ago."
Then he looked at me in his funny way, and sai{ " See
here, Steve, if this Colfax isn't exactly a friend of yours,
there must be some reason why you are pleading for him
in this way."
" Well, sir," I said, at length, " I should like to get
him oflf on account of his cousin. Miss Virginia Carvel."
And I told him something about Miss Carvel, and how
she had helped you with the Union sergeant that day in
the hot hospital. And how she had nursed Judge
Whipple."
" She's a fine woman," he said. " Those women have
helped those men to prolong this war about three years.
And yet we must save them for the nation's i^e. They
are to be the mothers of our patriots in days to come.
Is she a friend of yours, too, Steve? "
What was I to say ?
" Not especially, sir," I answered finally. ** I have had
to offend her rather often. But I know that she likes my
mother."
« Why ! " he cried, jumping up, " she's a daughter of
Colonel Carvel. I always had an admiration for t^t man.
THE SAME, CONTINITED
495
An ideal Southern gentleman of the old school, — courte-
ous, as honorable and open as the day, and as brave as a
lion. You've heard the story of how he threw a man
named Babcock out of his store, who tried to bribe him ? "
** I heard you tell it in tiiat tavern, sir. And I have
heard it since.'' It did me good to hear the Colonel
praised.
" I always liked that story," he said. " By the way,
what's become of the Colonel ? "
" He got away — South, sir," I answered. " He couldn't
stand it. He hasn't been heard of since the summer of
'68. They think he was killed in Texas. But they are
not positive. They probably never will be," I added.
He was silent awhile.
" Too bad 1 " he said. " Too bad. What stuff those
men are made of ! And so you want me to pardon this
Colfax?"
'* It would be presumptuous in me to go that far, sir," I
replied. "But I hoped you might speak of it to the
General when he comes. And I would be glad of the
opportunity to testify."
He took a few strides up and down the room .
"Well, well," he said, "that's my vice — pardoninff,
saying yes. It's always one more drink with me. It — '
he smiled — "it makes me sleep better. I've pardoned
enough Rebels to populate New Orleans. Why, ' he con-
tinued, with his whimsical look, "just before I left
Washington, in comes one of your Missouri senators with
a list of RelKjls who are shut up in McDowell's and Alton.
I said: —
" ' Senator, you're not going to ask me to turn loose all
those at once? '
" He said just what you said when you were speaking
of Missouri a while ago, that he was afraid of guerilla
warfare, and that the war was nearly over. I signed 'em.
And then what does he do but pull out another batch
longer than the first! And those were worse than the
first.
" ' What ! you don't want me to turn these loose, too ? '
496
THE CRISIS
mercifuT'' ^""^ ^'' ^'^^''^- ^ ^^^ i* wiU pay to be
♦* » Then dumed if I don't,' I gaid, and I signed 'em,"
StBAMSB « RlV«K QUCKM."
Ow THE Potomac, April 9, 1805.
DF.AR Mother: I am glad that the telegrams I have
been able to send reached you safely. I have^t had tfme
to write, and this will be but a short letter.
You wi 1 be surprised to see this heading. I am on the
Presiden 's boat, in the President's party, fcund with him
for Washington. And this is how it hap^ned : ?he verv
afternoon of the day I wrote you, Gene^S Sherman S
the salutes, and was on the wharf to meet him. That
same afternoon he and General Grant and Admiral Porter
went aboard the Biver Queen to see the President How
I should have liked to be present at that interview 1
G«n«!!i r ^""l *'m®'' I*'®^*" ^"^ °"* «f *^« cabin together :
S!n ft 1?'*''^ • '^®°*' *?^ ''"«^^°^' ^ ^^i ; General Sher-
man talking vivaciously; and fincoln and the Admiral
smiling and Ustening That was historic I I shall ^ver
expect to see such a sight again in all my days. YoS can
imagme my surprise when the President called me from
amZl T '^?- '°i? *i ^"^^ ^^«^«^« ^i^ the other
"l\tl\mt%?lin^^r' ^' "^^ ^^"^"^^'" ^- -^•
" He never told me that," said the General.
1 guess he s got a great many important things shut
up inside of him," said Mr. Linck, LnterLgly^" But
he gave you a good recommendation, Sherman. He said
that you wore white socks, and that the boys liked vou
^d^lled you 'Uncle Billy.' And I told ^im that ^as
the best recommendation he could give anvbodv "
wjJwIf ^"^^*«°?i- ^^^ the General only looked at me
T^^h^r "^"" °° *^'""^^ everything, and thent
THE SAME, CONTINUED
497
m
"Brioe,** he said, "you'll have my reputaMon ruined.
"Shennan," said Mr. Lincoln, "yow don't want the
Maior riffht away, do you? Let him stay around here
fo?^a wh§e%dth me. 1 think he'll find it interesting."
He looked at the general-in-ohief, who was smiling just
a little bit. "I've got a sneaking notion that Grants
going to do something."
Then they all laughed.
"Certainly, Mr. Lincoln," said ray General, "you may
have Brice. Be careful he doesn't talk you to death —
he's said too much already."
That is how I came to stay. ^ , ^ j
I have no time now to tell you all that I have seen and
heard. I have ridden with the President, and have gone
with him on errands ol mercy and errands of cheer. 1 have
been almost within sight of what we hope is the last
struggle of this frightful war. I have listened to the
ffuns of Five Forks, where Sheridan and Warren bore
their own colors in the front of the charge. I was with
Mr. Lincoln while the battle of Petersburg was raging,
and there were tears in his eyes.
Then came the retreat of Lee and the mstant pursuit of
Grant, and— Richmond. The quiet General did not so
much as turn aside to enter the smoking city he had be-
sieged for so long. But I went there, with the President.
And if I had one incident in my life to live over again, I
should choose this. As we were going up the river, a dis-
abled steamer lay across the passage in the obstruction of
pUes the Confederates had built. Mr. Lincohi would not
wait. There were but a few of us in his party, and we
stepped into Admiral Porter's twelve-oared barge and
were rowed to Richmond, the smoke of the fires still
darkening the sky. We landed within a block of Libby
With the little guard of ten sailors he marched the mile
and a half to General Weitzel's headquarters, — the presi-
dential mansion of the Confederacy. You can imagine
our anxiety. I shall remember him always as T saw him
that day, a tall, black figure of sorrow, with the high silk
2k
wr ■ --TmerataXM.
THE CRISIS
hat we h»Te learned to love. Unafraid, his heart rent
with pity, he walked unharmed amid such t ilt as I
have rarely aeen. The windows filled, the » ahead
of us became choked, as the word that the T :na¥nt was
comma ran on Uke quick-fire. The mob shout^jd and
puuhed. Drunken men reeled against him. The negroes
wept aloud and cried hoeahnas. They pressed upon him
that they miprht touch the hem of his coat, and one threw
himself on his knees and kissed the President's feet.
Still he walked on unharmed, past the ashes and the
ruins. Not as a conqueror was he come, to march in tri-
umph. Not to destroy, but to heal. Though there were
many times when we had to fight for a path through the
crowds, he did not seem to feel the danger.
Was it because he knew that his hour was not vet
come? •'
To-day, on the boat, as we were steaming between the
green shores of the Potomac, I overheard him reading to
Mr. Sumner: — ®
<*DanoMi is in his ffraT8$
After life's fitful fever he sleeps well ;
^reason has done his worst ; nor steel, nor poison.
Mahoe domestic, foreign levy, nothing.
Can touch hun further."
WiLLABD's HOTKL, WASHINGTON, April 10, 1865.
I have looked up the passage, and have written it in
above. It haunts me.
CHAPTE-. XV
THE MAN OF SORROWS
The train waa late — very late. It was Virginia who
first caug^ht sight ot iLo new dome of the Capitol through
the slanting rain, but shs merely pressed her lips together
and said nothing. In the dingy brick station of the
Hajtimore and Ohio Railroad more than one person paused
to look after them, and a kind-hearted lady who had been
m the car kissed the girl good-by.
" You think that you can find your uncle's house, my
dear? she asked, glancing at Virginia with concern.
Through all of that long journey she had worn a look
apwt. "Do you think you can find your uncle's house ? "
Virginia started. And then she smiled as she looked
at the honest, alert, and squarely built gentleman beside
her.
"Captain Brent can, Mrs. Ware," she said. "He can
find anything."
Whereupon the kind lady gave the Captain her hand.
"You look as if you could, Captain," said she. "Re-
member, if General Carvel is out of town, you promised
to bring her to me."
" Yes, ma'am," said Captain Lige, "and so I »halV'
"^ Kerndge, kerridge I Right dis-a-way I No sah, dat
am t de kerridge vou wants. Dat's it, lady, you'se lookin'
at it. Kerridge, kerridge, kerridge I "
Virginia tried bravely to smile, but she was very near
to tears as she stood on the uneven pavement and looked
at the scrawnv horses standing patiently in the steady
downpour. All sorts of people were coming and going,
army officers and navy officers and citizens of states and
terntories, driving up and driving away.
500
THE CRISIS
And this was Washington I
She was thinking then of the multitude who came here
with aching hearts, — with heavier hearts than was hprs
that day. How many of the throng hurrying by would
not flee, if they could, back to the peaceful homes they
had left? But perhaps those homes were gone now.
Destroyed, like her own, by the war. Women with chil-
dren at their breasts, and mothers bowed with sorrow, had
sought this city in their agony. Young men and old had
come hither, striving to keep back the thoughts of dear
ones left behind, whom they might never see again. And
by the thousands and tens of thousands they had passed
from here to the places of blood beyond.
" Kerridge, sah I Kerridge I "
"Do you know where General Daniel Carvel lives?'*
" Yes, sah, reckon I does. I Street, sah. Jump right
in, sah."
Virginia sank back on the stuffy cushions of the rattle-
trap, and then ,t upright again and stared out of the
window at the dismal scene. They were splashing through
a sea of mud. Ever since they had left St. Louis, Cap-
tain Lige had done his best to cheer her, and he did not
intend to desist now.
" This beats all," he cried. " So this is Washington I
Why, it don't compare to St. Louis, except we haven't
got the White House and the Capitol. Jinny, it would
take a scow to get across the street, and we don't have
ramshackly stores and nigger cabins bang up against fine
houses like that. This is ragged. That's what it is,
ragged. We don't have any dirty pickaninnies dodging
among the horses in our residence streets. I decLare,
Jinny, if those aren't pigs ! "
Virginia laughed. She could not help it.
"Poor LigeT" she said. "I hope Uncle Daniel has
some breakfast for you. You've haa a good deal to put
up with on this trip."
"Lordv, Jinny, said the Captain, "I'd put up with
a good deal more than this for the sake of going any-
where with you."
THE MAN OF SORROWS
501
" Even to such a doleful place as this ? " she sighed.
" This is all right, if the sun'll only come out and dry
things up and let us see the green on those trees," he said.
" Lordv, how I do love to see the spring green in the sun-
light ! '
She put out her hand over his.
»'Lige," she said, "you know you*re just trying to keep
up my spirits. You've been doing that ever since we left
home."
" No such thing," he replied with vehemence. " There's
nothing for you to be cast down about."
" Oh, but there is I " she cried. " Suppose I can't make
your Black Republican President pardon Clarence ! "
"Pooh!" said the Captain, squeezing her hand and
trying to appear unconcerned. "Your Uncle Daniel
knows Mr. Lincoln. He'll have that arranged."
Just then the rattletrap pulled up at the sidewalk, the
wheels of the near side in four inches of mud, and the
Captain leaped out and spread the umbrella. They were
in front of a rather imposing house of brick, flanked on
one side by a house just like it, and on the other by a
series of dreary vacant lots where the rain had collected
in pools. They climbed the steps and rang the bell. In
due time the door was opened by a smiling yellow butler
in black.
" Does General Carvel live here ? "
" Yas, miss. But he ain't to home now. Done crone to
New York." ^
" Oh," faltered Virginia. " Didn't he get my telegram
day before yesterday? I sent it to the War Department."
"He's done gone since Saturday, miss." And then,
evidently impressed by tlie young lady's looks, he added
hospitably, " Kin I do anything fo' you, miss ? "
" I'm his niece. Miss Virginia Carvel, and this is Captain
Brent."
The yellow butler's face lighted up.
" Come right in. Miss Jinny. Done heerd de General
speak of you often — • yas'm. De General'U be to home
dis a'ternoon, suah. 'Twill do hini good ter see you. Miss
502
THE CBISIS
J^uay. He's been mighty lonesome. Walk right in,
Cap'n, and make yo'selves at home. Lizbeth — Lizbeth I "
A yellow maid came running down the stairs. " Heab's
Miss Jinny."
" Lan' of goodness I " cried Lizbeth. " I knows Miss
Jinny. Done seed her at Calve't House. How it vou.
Miss Jinny?" ^ '
"Very well, Lizbeth," said Virginia, listlessly sitting
down on the hall sofa. " Can you give us some breakfast ? ^'
»'Yas'm," said Lizbeth, "jes' reckon we kin." She
ushered them into a walnut dining room, big and high
and sombre, with plush-bottomed chairs placed about —
walnut also ; for that was the fashion in those days. But
the Captain had no sooner seated himself than he shot up
again and started out.
" Where are you going, Lige ? "
" To pay off the carriage driver," he said.
"Let him wait," said Virginia. "I'm goinir to the
White House in a Httle while.^'
" What — what for ? " he gasped.
"To see ^our Black Republican President," she replied,
with alarming calmness.
"Nov, Jinny," he cried, in excited appeal, "don't go
doin' any such fool trick as that. Your tfncle Dan'l will
be here this afternoon, ffe knows the President. And
then the thing'll be fixed all right, and no mittake.**
Her reply was in the same tone — almost a monotone
which she had used for three days. It made the Captain
very uneasy, for he knew when she spoke in that way that
her will was in it.
" And to lose that time," she answered, " may be to have
him shot."
"But you can't get to the President without creden-
tials," he objected.
" What," she flashed, "hasn't any one a right to see the
President ? You mean to say that he will not see a woman
in trouble ? Then all these pretty stories I hear of him
are false. They are made up by the Yankees."
Poor Captain Lige ! He had some notion of the multi-
.'."tf. MMffiJWt-f
THE MAN OF SORROWS
603
tude of calls upon Mr. Lincoln, especially at that time.
But he could not, he dared not, remind her of the princi-
pal reason for this, — Lee's surrender and the appry. -jhrng
end of the war. And then the Captain had never seen
Mr. Lincoln. In the distant valley of the Mississippi he
had only heard of the President very conflicting things.
He had heard him criticised and reviled and praised, just as
is every man who goes to the White House, be he saint or
sinner. And, during an administration, no man at a
distance may come at a President's true character and
worth. The Captain had seen Lincoln caricatured vilely.
And again he had read and heard the pleasant anecdotes
of which Virginia had spoken, until he did not know
what to believe.
As for Virginia, he knew her partisanship to, and un-
dying love for, the South ; he knew the class prejudice
which was bound to assert itself, and he had seen enough
in the girl's demeanor to fear that she was going to demand
-rather than implore. She did not come of a race that was
wont to bend the knee.
" Well, well," he said despairingly, " yoa must eat some
breakfast first, Jinny."
She waited with an ominous calmness until it was
brought in, and then she took a part of a roll and some
coffee.
" This won't do," exclaimed the Captain. " Why, why,
that won't get you halfway to Mr. LilTicoln."
She shook her head, hali smiling.
" You must eat enough, Lige," she said.
He was finished in an incrediblj'^ tL3r<; time, and amid
the protestations of Lizbeth and the yeilow butler they
got into the carriage again, and splashed and rattled
toward the White House. Once Virginia glanced out,
and catching sight of the bedraggled Sags on the houses
in honor of Lee's surrender, a look of pain crossed her
face. The Captain could not represd a note of warning.
'* Jinny," said he, ♦» I have an idea that you'll find the
President a good deal of a man. Now if you're allowed to
see him, don't get him mad^ Jinny, whatever you do."
504
THE CRISIS
\rU'.
Virginia stared straight ahead.
" If he is something of a man, Lige, he will not lose his
temper with a woman."
Captain Lige subsided. And just then they came In
sight of the house of the Presidents, with ita beautiful
portico and its broad wings. And they turned in under
the dripping trees of the grounds. A carriage with a
black coachman and footman was ahead of them, and they
saw two stately gentlemen descend from it and pass the
guard at the door. Then their turn came. The Captain
helped her out in his best manner, and gave some money
to the driver.
"I reckon he needn't wait for us this time. Jinny," said he.
She shook her head and went in, he following, and they
were directed to the anteroom of the President's office on
the second floor. There were many people in the corri-
dors, and one or two young officers in blue who stared at
her. She passed them with her head high.
But her spirits sank when they came to the anteroom.
It \. as full of all sorts of people. Politicians, both pros-
perous and seedy, full faced and keen faced, seeking office;
women, officers, and a one-armed soldier sitting in the
corner. He was among the men who offered Virginia
their seats, and the only one whom she thanked. But she
walked directly to the doorkeeper at the end of the room.
Captain Lige was beside her.
" Can we see the President ? " he asked.
" Have you got an appointment ? " said the old man.
"No."
"Then you'll have to wait your turn, sir," he said,
shaking his head and looking at Virginia. And he added:
" It's slow work waiting your turn, there's so many gov-
ernors and generals and senators, although the session's
over. It's a busy time, miss."
Virginia went very close to him.
" Oh, can't you do something ? " she said. And added,
with an inspiration, " I mtut see him. It's a matter of life
and death."
She saw instantly, with a woman's instinct, that her
• I', asf*' ■ Tii^ -
THE MAN OF SORROWS
506
words 1 sd had their effect. The old man glanced at her
again, as if demurring.
" You're sure, miss, it's life and death ? " he said. ^
" Oh, why should I say so if it were not ? " she cried.
" The orders are very strict," he said. " But the Presi-
dent told me to give precedence to cases when a life is in
question. Just you wait a minute, miss, until Governor
Doddridge comes out, and I'll see what I can do for you.
Give me your name, please, miss."
She remained standing where she was. In a little while
the heavy door opened, and a portly, rubicund man came
out with a smile on his face. He broke into a laugh, when
halfway across the room, as if the memory of what he
had heard were too much for his gravity. The door-
keeper slipped into the room, and there was a silent,
anxious interval. Then he came out again.
"The President will see you, miss."
Captain Lige started forward with her, but she restrained
him.
" Wait for me here, Lige," she said.
She swept in alone, and the door closed softly after
her. The room was a big one, and there were maps on
the table, with pins sticking in them. She saw that
much, and then — !
Could this fantastically tall, stooping figure before her
be that of the President of the United States ? She stopped,
as from the shock he gave her. The lean, yellow face with
the mask-like lines a& up and down, the unkempt, tousled
hair, the beard — why, he was a hundred times more ridicu-
lous than his caricatures. He might have stood for rnany
of the poor white trash farmers she had seen in Kentucky
— save for the long black coat.
"Is — is this Mr. Lincoln ? " she askcl, her breath taken
away.
He bowed and smiled down at her. Somehow that smile
changed his face a little.
" I guess I'll have to own up," he answered.
" My name is Virginia Carvel," she said. " I have come
all the way from St. Louis to see you."
;-:•!
■ <
m
.•T.i. -.iiif t-'.-n^wsfTi^Bnr*.
sm
THE CRISIS
*' Miss Carvel," said the President, looking at her in-
tently, " I have rarely been so flattered in my life. I — I
hope I have not disappointed you."
Virginia was justly angry.
" Oh, you haven't, * she cried, her eyes flashing, "because
I am what you would call a Rebel."
The mirth in the dark comers of his eyes disturbed hh
more and more. And then she saw that the President
was laughing.
"And have you a better name for it. Miss Carvel?" he
asked. " Because I am searching for a better name — just
now."
She was silent — sternly silent. And she tapped her
foot on the carpet. What manner of man was this ?
"Won't you sit down?" said the President, kindly.
"You must be tired after your journey." And he put
forth a chair.
"No, thank you," said Virginia; "I think that I can
say what I have come to say better standing."
"Well," said Mr. Lincoln, "that's not strange. I'm
that way, too. The words seem to come out better. That
reminds me of a story they tell about General Buck Tan-
ner. Ever heard of Buck, Miss Carvel? No? Well,
Buck was a character. He got his title in the Mormon
war. One day the boys asked him over to the square to
make a speech. The General was a little uneasy.
"* I'm all rirfit when I get standing up, Liza,' he said
to his wife. * Then the words come right along. Only
trouble is they come too cussed fast. How'm I going to
stop 'em when I want to ? '
"♦Well, I du declare. Buck,' said she, ♦! gave you
credit for some sense. All you've got to do is to set
down. That'll end it, I reckon.'
" So the General went over to the square and talked for
about an hour and a half, and then a Chicago man shouted
to him to dry up. The General looked pained.
"* Boys,' said he, *it's jest every bit as bad for me as it
is for you. You'll have to hand up a chair, boys, because
I'm never foiniir to get shet of this goldarned speech any
other way
|roing
«Pv
THE MAN OP SORBOWS «)7
Mr. Lincoln had told this so comically that Viririnia
was forced to Wh, and she immediately hated heSdf
LTZ"'^'' °°"L*^ j°^" ** ""°*» » *i°»« certainlyiouinot
feel the cares and responsibilities of his office. He should
have been a comedian. And yet this was the Prudent
the Confederacy. And she was come to ask him a favor
Virginia swallowed her pride.
^kT,,^'* ^^^^^^l**'" «hf began, « I have come to talk to you
about my cousin. Colonel Clarence Colfax." ^
"1 shaJl be happy to talk to you about your cousin
Colonel Colfax, isfiss Carvel. Is L your thiJS^r Wh
" He is my first cousin," she retorted.
«WWH%^'J/^ city?" asked Mr. Lincoln, innocently,
why didn't he come with you ?" ^-wjr-
Coif?,' !;r?? V°" ^^^ ^ " A^? ""^- " He is Clarence
SlSSeSfte'siC^ °°" ^ "^^'^"^^ ^" *^« '^-r^^^ *^«
"Which army ?" asked Mr. Lincoln.
Virginia tossed her head in exasperation,
in^f S^l"^ Joseph Johnston's army," she replied, try.
ing to be patient. " But now." she gilptd, " now he Ss
been a^rested as a s^y by General Sh^Xu'L army.'' "
That s too bad,'^ answered Mr. Lincoln.
«^?*lr*°^ *hey are going to ihoot him*."
« That s worse," said Mr. Lincoln, gravely. "But I
expect he deserves it." ** ^
" 01^ no, he doesn't," she cried. « You don't know how
^T% V- ? I "' ^?f^ *^«^» *he Mississippi onTlo^
«a„H. J''^^^?' ^^ *^'°"?^* ^*°^ thousand and thof:
sands of percussion caps. &e rode across the river when
^o^h'^rtt; tidTeeTsii^^^^^^ ^' •"* ^« *^ ^« ^^
mfhe Sit^ th^^A."^^*''' * ^-^ «^^-"
"Miss Carvel," said he, "that argument reminds me of
a storjr about a man I used to know in the old days 2
Illinois. His name was McNeil, and he was a lawyer.
608
THE CRISIS
One day he was defending a prisoner for assault and
battery before Judee Drake.
"'Judge,' says McNeil, »you oughtn't to lock this man
up. It was a fair fight, and he's the best man in the
state in a fair fight. And, what's more, he's never been
licked in a fair fight in his life.'
" * And if your honor does lock me up,' the prisoner put
in, *I'll give your honor a thunderin' big lickin' when I
get out. •
" The Judge took off his coat.
"'Gantlemen,' said he, 'it's a powerful queer argument,
but tl*e Court will admit it on its merits. The prisoner
will please to step out on the grass.' "
This time Virginia contrived merely to smile. She was
striving against something, she knew not what. Her
breath was coming deeply, and she was dangerously near
to tears. Why? She could not tell. She had come into
this man's presence despising herself for having to ask
him a favor. The sight of his face she had ridiculed.
Now she could not look into it without an odd sensation.
What was in it ? Sorrow ? Yes, that was nearest ii.
What had the man done ? Told her a few funny stories
—given quizzical answers to some of her questions. Quiz-
zical, yes ; but she could not be sure then there was not
wisdom in them, and that humiliated her. She had never
conceived of such a man. And, be it added gratuitously,
Virginia deemed herself sometUi^^ of an adept in dealing
with men.
"And now," said Mr. Lincoln, "to continue for the
defence, I believe that Colonel Colfax first distinguished
himself at the time of Camp Jackson, when of all the
prisoners he refused to accept a parole."
Startled, she looked up at him swiftly, and then down
again. "Yes," she answered, "yes. But oh, Mr. Lin-
coln, please don't hold that against him."
If she could only have seen his face then. But her
lashes were dropped.
"My dear young lady," replied the President, "I honor
him for it. I was merely elaborating the argument which
H
THE MAN OP SORROWS
yoa have begun. On the other hand, it is a pity that he
should have taken oflf that uniform which he adorned, and
attempted to enter General Sherman's lines as a civiUan.
— as a spy." *
He had spoken tiiese last words very gently, but she was
too excited to heed his gentieness. She drew herself un, a
gleam in her eyes like the crest of a blue wave in a storm.
A spy I she cried ; "it takes more courage to be a
my than anything else in war. Then he will be shot.
You are not content in the North with what you have
gamed. You are not content with depriving us of our
rijghts, and our fortunes, with forcing us back to an alle-
priance we despise. You are not content with humiliat-
mg our generals and putting innocent men in prisons.
But now I suppose you wiU shoot us all. And aU this mercy
that I have heard about means nothing —nothing— "
Why did she falter and stop ?
"Miss Carvel," said the President, " I am afraid from
what 1 have heard just now, that it means nothing."
Oh, the sadness of that voice, — the ineffable sadness,
— the sadness and the woe of a great nation I And the
sorrow m those eyes, the sorrow of a heavy cross borne
meekly, — how heavy none will ever know. The pain of a
crown of thorns worn for a world that did not understand.
No wonder Virginia faltered and was silent. She looked
at Abraham Lincoln standing there, bent and sorrowful,
and It was as if a Hght had fallen upon him. But strang-
est of all in that strange moment was that she felt his
strength. It was the same strength she had felt in Stephen
Bnce. This was the thought that came to her.
Slowly she walked to the window and looked out across
the green grounds where the wind was shaking the wet
trees, past the unfinished monument to the Father of her
country, and across the broad Potomac to Alexandria in
the hazy distance. The rain beat upon the panes, and
tiien she knew that she was crying softly to herself. She
had met a force that she could not conquer, she had looked
upon a sorrow that she could not fathom, albeit she had
known sorrow.
610
THE CRISIS
Presently she felt him near. She turned and looked
through her tears at his face that was all compassion,
.'.nd now she was unashamed. He had placed a chair
behind her.
** Sit down, Virginia," he said. Eyen the name fell from
him naturally.
She obeyed him then like a child. He remained
standinff.
** Tell me about your cousin,*' he said ; ** are you going
to marry him ? "
She hung an instant on her answer. Would that save
Clarence ? But in that moment she could not have spoken
anything but the truth o save her soul.
** No, Mr. Lincoln," she said ; ** I was — but I did not
love him. I — I think that was one reason why he was
so reckless."
Mr. Lincoln smiled.
**The officer who happened to see Colonel Colfax cap-
tured is now in Washington. When vour name was given
to me, I sent for him. Perhaps he is m the anteroom now.
I should like to tell you, first of all, that this officer de-
fended your cousin and asked me to pardon him."
** He defended him I He asked you to pardon him I
Who is he ? " she exclaimed.
Again Mr. Lincoln smiled. He sti^ode to the bell-cord,
and spoke a few words to the usher who answered his ring.
The usher went out. Then the door opened, and a young
officer, spare, erect, came q^uickly into tne room, and bowed
respectfully to the President. But Mr. Lincoln's eves
were not on him. They were on the girl. He saw her
head lifted, timidly. He saw her lips part and the color
come flooding into her face. But she cUd not rise.
The President sighed. But the light in her eyes w ci
reflected in his own. It has been truly said that Abraham
Lincoln knew the human heart.
The officer still stood facing the President, the girl
staring at his profile. The door closed behind him.
" Maior Brice," said Mr. Lincoln, " when you asked me
to pardon Colonel Colfax, I believe that you told me
THE MAN OF SORROWS Ml
he WM inside his own skinnish lines when he was cap-
tured. "^
•* Yes, sir, he was."
Suddenly Stephen turned, as if impelled by the Presi-
dent s wze, and so his eyes met VirginU's. He fonrot
time and place, — for the while even this man whom he
rever^ above all men. He saw her hand tighten on the
arm of her chair. He took a step toward her, and stopped.
Mr. Lmcoln was speaking again.
" ^.P^* !° » P^«»» a lawver's plea, wholly unworthy of
him. Miss Virpfinia. He asked me to let your cousin o£f
on a technicality. Whac do you think of that ? "
"Oh I "said VirginU. Just the exclamation escaped
her — nothing more. The crimson that had betrayed her
deepened on her cheeks. Slowly the eyes she had yielded
to Stephen came back again and restei on the President.
And now her wonder was that an ugly man could be so
beautiful.
"I wish it understood, Mr. Lawyer," the Pr^ident con-
tinued, "that I am not letting off Colonel Colfax on a
technicality. I am sparing his life," he said slowly,
"because the time for which we have been waiting and
longmg for four years is now at hand — the time to be
merciful. Let us all thank God for it."
Virrinia had risen now. She crossed the room, her
head lifted, her heart lifted, to where this man of sorrows
stood smiling down at her.
" Mr. Lincoln," she faltered, « I did not know you when
I came here. I should have known you, for I had heard
• j~" 1. ^^rd Major Brice praise you. Oh," she
cried, "how I wish that every man and woman and child
m the South might come here and see you as I have seen
you to-day. I think — I think that some of their bitter-
ness might be taken away."
Abraham Lincoln laid his hands upon the girl. And
Stephen, watching, knew that he was looking upon a
benediction. *^
"Virginia," said Mr. Lincohi, "I have not suffered by
the South, I have suffered unth the South. Your sorrow
wmB^^m
THE CRI9IB
^ been my -orrow - ^eToerA^ w^ ^^ Ce
What you have joet, f have J^ gained." ,
gained?' he added whUmely, J nav V^^^ ^^^^^ ^ere
^He led her gently to ^« ^^^^^ of blue tky shone
flving before tKe ^^..^tl^^S^^rm he pointed acroee
above the Potomac. With B'" »°^. ^ . ^ ^j^^ie a shaft
tSe river to the «>^i^«"*^^^,"!^ of ^Mexandria. ^
of sunlight feU on the white ^^-^ ^ A^ flew
"In the first days of tiu- v ^, u . . ^. g^^n Uved
there in sight of the phioe . bo.v .uc ..^V ,^^g^ .j^,
anddied.^'l^sedtowal. t -t n..,, ^^ ^^etimes,-
Washington had not n; ^' ^_^ » .. i(.<irr(> to be put in
Bometim^es I wondered ua-:i;'=^^; ^ ^^ch. "That
Sony just there." ,^''« ^ \%^^o\)d b.ve known that
^Viongr he contwueu. '^'^ ^j j^ ^„ my
this was our V^^}'^''''' Z ^ U^ J the great nation
punishment. Before ^« ^•«^:' ^' nn^o be ^ped out in
^e has destined ^^^}>^^^'' . iririnm. You love it stiU.
blood. You loved that flag, Wr^^mm. .^^ ^^
1 say in aU ^^^^l^lS^k ^d South, may look
day come when this Natioo, ^^* ^ ^pon thousands
SlJk upon it with reverence^ Tbousa^ .^ ^^
of brave Amencajis ^^T* ^^^i^e day oome agam when
^^;1flrethtkag^^"- there nL-Was^^
tag -better still." ^^^ ^pon Virginia'.
When he got up a^n h? ^^^^ ^ai ai it. Ill to;
Jt'^f tl iLe^. ^STve iread, .poken to h.
about the matter." . beyond them hot
'11 have
to him
jm both.
L his face
ber night
THE JIAN OF SORROWS M3
Harlan was here making a speech to a crowd out of the
window and my boy Tad was sitting behind him.
"»What shall we do with the Rebels?' said HarUn to
Che crowd.
** ' Hang 'em I ' cried the people.
*♦ * No,' says Tad, ♦ hang on to 'em.'
"And the boy was right. That is what we intend to
do,--haM on to 'em. And, Steve," said Mr. Lincoln,
putting bis hand again on Virginia's shoulder, "if you
have th J sense I think you have, you'll h.'ng on, too."
I'or an instant he stood smiling at lUw blushes, — he
to whom the power was given to set apart his cares and
his troubles and partake of the happinesH of others. For
of such was his happiness.
Then the President drew out his watch. " Bless me I "
he said, " I am ten minutes behind my appointment at the
Department. Miss Virginia, you may care t • thank the
Major for the little service he has done you. You can do
so undisturbed here. Make yourselves at home."
As he opened the door he paused and looked back at
them. 1 he smile passed from his face, and an ineffable
expression of longing — longing and tenderness — came
upon It.
Then he was gone.
For a space, whilo his spell was upon them, they did
not stir. Then Stephen sought her eyes that had been
so long denied him. They were not denied him now.
It was Virgmia who first found her voice, and she called
mm by his name.
"Oh, Stephen," she said, "how sad he looked ! "
He waa close to her, at her side. And he answered
her m the earnest tone which she knew so well.
"Virginia, if I could have had what I most wished for
m the world, I should have asked that you should know
Abraham Lincoln."
Then she dropped her eyes, and her breath came
quickly.
"I — I might have known," she answered, "I mitrht
have knowu what he was. I had heard you talk of him.
« i<
Xw^'"
514
THE CEISrS
I had seen him in you, and I did not know. Do you re-
member that day when we were in the summer-house
together at Olencoe, long ago ? When you had come
back from seeing him ? "
" As yesterday," he said.
" You were changed then," she said bravely. " I saw
it. Now I understand. It was because you had seen
Mr. Lincoln."
'♦ When I saw him," said Stephen, reverently, " I knew
how little and narrow I was."
Then, overcome by the incense of her presence, he drew
her to him until her heart beat against his own. She
did not resist, but lifted her face to him, and he kissed
her.
" You love me, Virginia I " he cried.
" Yes, Stephen," she answered, low, more wonderful in
her surrender than ever before. " Yes ~ dear." Then
she hid her face against his blue coat. " I — I cannot
help it. Oh, Stephen, how I have struggled against it I
How I have tried to hate you, and couldn't. No, I
couldn't. I tried to insult you, I did insult you. And
when I saw how splendidly you bore it, I used to cry."
He kissed her brown hair.
" I loved you through it all," he said. " Virginia I "
" Yes, dearest."
" Virginia, did you dream of me ? "
She raised her head quickly, and awe was in her eyes.
" How did you know ? "
** Because I dreamed of you," he answered. "And
those dreams used to linger with me half the day as I
went about my work. I used to thmk of them as I sat
in the saddle on the march."
" I, too, treasured them," she said. " And I hated my-
self for doing it."
"Virginia, will you marry me ? "
"Yes."
"To-morrow?"
" Yes, dear, to-morrow." Faintly, " I — I have no one
but you — now."
THK MAN OF SORROWS si-,
.t,^""" •" '^'' ''" to W». and .he gloried in hi,
guIrftou'iW? *" '^"^ y-. "««." he ..id, ..„d
Ad?w. '**' '""° '■'"• «"'*^y' ">-» '"nied toward
1 J.^ Stephen," .he cried, " the sun hu come out «t
glirte;^™'tenri^tnd\K"'f ""'■' "x' "">•»
the e«th entered into tKh" '°^'"" »«" «"«» »'
CHAPTER XVI
ANNAPOLIS
It was Virginia's wish, and was therefore sacred. As
for Stephen, he little cared whither they went. And so
they found themselves on that bright afternoon in mid-
April under the great trees that arch the unpaved streets
Of old Annapolis.
They stopped by direction at a gate, and behind it was
a green cluster of lilac bushes, which lined the walk to
the big plum-colored house which Lionel Carvel had built.
Virginia remembered that down this walk on a certain
dav in June, a hundred years agone, Richard Carvel had
led Dorothy Manners.
They climbed the steps, tottering now with age and
disuse, and Virginia playfully raised the big brass knocker,
brown now, that Scipio had been wont to polish until it
shone. Stephen took from his pocket the clumsy key
that General Carvel had given him, and turned it in the
rustv lock. The door swung open, and Virginia stood in
the hall of her ancestors.
It was musty and damp this day as the day when Richard
had come back from England and found it vacant and
his grandfather dead. But there, at the parting of the
stairs, was the triple-arched window which he had de-
scribed. Through it the jellow afternoon light was
flooding now, even as then, checkered by the branches
in their first fringe of green. Rut the tall clock which
Lionel Carvel used to wind was at Calvert House, with
many another treasure.
They went up the stairs, and reverently they walked
over the bare floors, their footfalls echoing tluougli tlie
silent house. A score of scenes in her great-grandfather's
516
^ «s»
ANNAPOLIS
617
in! T\ y*T"'?- u"^^ ™ **»« room -the corner
one at the baclfc of the main building, which looked
out over the desert'^d garden -that had been Richard's
mothers. She recfa'ied how he had stolen into it on that
summer s dav after his return, and had flung open the
flutters. They were open now, for their locks were off.
Ihe prie-dieu was gone, and the dresser. But the hitrh
whJf.T . ^'^' '^'JT^ ""^ '^ P^PPy counterpane and
white curtains ; and tlie steps by which she had entered it.
And next they went into the great square room that
had been Lionel Carvel's, and there, too, wa« the roomy bed
on which the old gentleman had lain with the gout, while
Kichard read tu him from the Spectator. One side of it
looked out on the trees in Freshwater Lane, and the other
across the roof of the low house opposite to where the sun
danced on the blue and white waters of the Chesapeake.
"oney, said Virginia, as they stood in the deep recess
of the wi-dow, "wouldn't it be nice if we could live here
always, away from the world ? Just we two I But vou
would never be content to do that," she said, smiling re-
proachfully " You are the kind of man who must l^ in
the mwJst of things. In a litUe while you will have far
more besides me to think about."
A ^\^^ ^"*^^ ^^ ^^^^ ^^^ note of sadness in her voice.
And he drew her to him.
" We all have our duty to perform in the world, dear."
he answered. "It cannot be all pleasure."
u" ^?l~^^^ Puritan ! " she cried. "To think that I
should have married a Puritan I What would my great-
great-great-great-grandfather say, who was such a stanch
Royalist? Why, I think I can see him frowning at me
now, from the door, in his blue velvet coat and silver-
laced waistcoat."
" He was well punished," retorted Stephen ; « his own
grandson was a WTiig, and seems to have married a woman
of spirit.
" She had spirit," said Virginia. « I am sure that she
did not allow my great-grandfather to kiss her — unless
she wanted to."
618
THE CKI8I8
And she looked up at him, half smUin^, half poutinir,
altogether bewitching. *
"From what I hear of him, he was something of * man,"
said Stephen. " Perhaps he did it anyway."
"I am glad that Marlborough Street isn't a crowded
thoroughfare," said Virginia.
When they had seen the dining room, with its carved
mantel mad silver door-kaobs, and the ballroom in the
wing, thev came out, and Stephen locked t^ door again,
rhey walked around the house, and stood looking down
the terraces,— once stately, but crumbled now,— where
Dorothv Inid danced on the green on Richard's birthday.
Beyond and below was the spring-house, and there was
the place where the brook dived under the ruined wall, —
where Dorothy had wound into her hair the lilies of the
valley before she sailed for London.
The remains of a wall that had once held a balustmde
marked the outlines of the formal garden. The trim
hedges, for seventy years neglected, had grown inconti-
nent. The garden itself was full of wild green things
-oming up through the brown of last season's growth.
3 It m the grass the blue violets nestled, and Virginia
ficked some of these and put them in Stephen's coat.
** You must keep uhem always," she said, " because we
^t them here."
They spied a seat besi.le a hoary trunk. There on
many a spring day Lionel Carvel had sat reading his
aoMette. And there they rested now. The sun hung
low over the old-world gables in the street beyond the
wall, and m the level rays was an apple tree du/zling
white, hke a bride. The sweet fragrance which the day
draws from the earth lingered in the air.
It was Virginia who broke the silence.
"Stephen, do you remember that fearful afternoon of
the panic, when you came over from Anne Brinsmade's
to reassure me ? "
*' Yes, dear," he said. « But what made you think of
It now ? "
She did not answer him directly.
ANNAPOLIS
519
I lieheved what you said, Stephen. But you were so
strong, HO calm, so sure of yourself. I think thn made
ITen*"^'"^ ^ ' thought how ridiculous I mi have
He prefl8e<l her hand.
" You were not ridiculous. Jinny."
She laughed.
"I wa« not as ridiculous as Mr. Cluyme wi , his nronze
clock. But do you know what I had unde ny arm —
what 1 was saving of all the things I owned '^ '
"No," he answered; "but I have often wondered."
ohe blushed.
" '{I'is '»«U8e — tluH place made me think of it. It was
Dorothy Manners's gown, and her necklace, I could not
eave them. They were all the remembrance I had of
that night at Mr. Brinsmade's gate, wf»en we came m, near
to each other.
" Virginia," he «iid, "some force that we lannot under-
stand has brought us together, nome force that we could
not hinder. It is fooliKb for me to my m, but on that day
of the slave auction, when I fi^nt huw ymi, I had a pre-
monition about vou that I have never admitted until iww
even to myself. '^ '
She started.
'♦ Why, Stephen," she cried, •' I felt the same way ' "
"And then," ^ continued quickly, "k was strange
that I should have goiu- to Judge Whipple, who was
an intimate of your father's - such a singular intimate.
And then came y<mr|*rty, and Glencoe, and that curious
incident at the Fa*r."
" When I was talkinjr t^ the Prince, and looked up aad
saw you anwmg all those pe*>pie."
He laughed.
"That was the mowt uncomfortable of all, for me."
"Stephen," she said, stirring the leaves at her feet
"you might have teken me in your arms the night Judire
Whipple died — If vou had wanted to. But you were
strong enough to resist. I love you all the more for that."
Again she said : —
520
THE CRISIS
^J ♦ " ^}^^«^ y^^ another, deareat, that we were
most strongly drawn toother. I worshipped her from
the day I saw her in the hospital. I believe that was the
beginning of my charitv toward the North."
" My mother would have chosen you above aU women,
Virginia," he answered. '
In the morning came to them the news of Abraham
Lincoln 8 death. And the same thought was in both their
hearts, who had known him as it was given to few to
know him. How he had lived in sorrow ; how he had
died a martvr on the very day of Christ's death upon the
cross. And they believed that Abraham LincolW gave
world country even as Christ gave his for the
And so must we believe that God has reserved for this
INation a destiny high upon the earth.
Many years afterward Stephen Brice read again to his wife
those sublime closing words of the second inaugural : —
" With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firm.
! •« <*« rtght as God gives us to see the right, let us strive
on to finish the work we are in, to bind up the nation's wounds,
to care for htm who shall have borne the battle, and for his
widow and his children — to do all which may achieve and
cnensh a just and lasting peace among ourselves and with aU
nations.
AFTERWORD
The author has chosen St. Louis for the prmcioal
scene of this story for many reasons. Grant aKw
man were hving there before the Civil War?and Abmlmm
Lincoln was an unknown lawyer in the neiUlK»rW sZ
«hnl r""- ^^ ,*^, ^^'^ °°« ^^ ^^^ »»"»» of this bSok to
show the remarkable contrasts in the lives of the^ weat
?Z ""^l.T"^ out of the West. This old city of St
Louis, which was founded by Laclede in 1765, like wi^
became the principal meeting-place of two gr^t strel^
C^oSriX'^ToY ^- V'^ted^rreT^Tn'^:
wrs^t^^Sfn^^he^^det^^^^^^^^
iTfe ^\tTn^ "^'^ ^'^'^^r^ -d Virgrn7a."'But thJ
whioh w ^P^'^^'^.^^^f took on the more liberal tinge
which had characterized that of the Royalists, even toX
cTsm^oflh '^«'^"^1^.^°"'^^ ^'^^^^^^^^ wime the ^eu!
ciam of the Roundheads was the keynote of the Puritan
character in New England. When this great count^^
ours began to develop, the streams moved westward ; one
over what became the plain states of Ohio and Indian^ and
nUnois, and tbe other across the Blue Ridge Mountains into
Kentucky and Tennessee. They mixed along the Une of
Th^°«' can the German element in St. Louis be ignored.
J^JT f ^*^^^ ^l ^^'^ P^**P^« ^" ^*»« Ci^il War is a mat-
ter of history. Tlie scope of this book has not permitted
tne author to introduce the peasantry and trading classes
who formed the mass in this movement. But Richter, the
o?r ?,vhe umversity-bred revolutionist who emigrated
after 48, IS drawn more or less from life. And the duel
described actuallv took place in Berlin.
St. I^uis is the author's birthplace, and his home —
521 '
S22
THE CRISIS
the home of thoee friends whom he has known from child-
hood and who have always treated him with unfalterinir
kindness. He ben that they wiU believe him when he
says that only such characters as he loves are reminiscent
of those he has known there. The city bos a large popu-
Ution, —large enough to include all the types that are to
be found in the middle West.
One word more. This book is written of a time when
feelmg ran high. It has been necessary to put strong
speech into the mouths of the characters. The breach
that threatened our country's existence is healed now.
Ihere is no side but Abraham Lincoln's side. And this
side, with all reverence and patriotism, the author has
tried to take.
Abraham Lincoln loved the South as well as the North.
■.m-'^ iifv ; afl^-~ir» .."; " .-V.*4:.«r^-i»