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Scene from the P.
-play, " The Crisis."
THE MAN OF SORROWS.
THE CRISIS
BY
WINSTON CHURCHILL
AUTHOR OF
THE INSIDE OF THE CUP,
A MODERN CHRONICLE, ETC.
ILLUSTRATED WITH SCENES FROM THE PHOTO-PLAY
PRODUCED AND COPYRIGHTED BY THE SELIG POLY-
SCOPE COMPANY, Inc.
NEW YORK
GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS
Published by Arrangement with The Macmillan Company.
COPYBIGHT, 1901,
By THE MAC^^AN COMPANY.
Set up and electrotyped. Published May, igoj.
«f. B. G.
AND
L. M. G.
CONTENTS
BOOK I
GHATTRB FAGB
I. Which deals with Origins ...... 1
II. The Mole 13
III. The Unattainable Simplicity ..... 22
IV. Black Cattle 29
Vo The First Spark passes 42
VI. Silas Whipple 48
VII. Callers 56
VIII. Bellegarde 63
IX. A Quiet Sunday in Locust Street 74
X. The Little House 83
XI. The Invitation 90
XII. "Miss Jinny" . 94
XIII. The Party 106
BOOK n
L Raw Material 116
II. Abraham Lincoln «, 123
IJI. In which Stephen learns Something . 133
iV. The Question . 141
V. The Crisis 148
VI. Glencoe 161
VII. An Excursion 177
VIH. The Colonel is warned 186
IX. Signs of the Times . 192
X. Richter's Scar , W
vii
nil
CONTENTS
CHAPTEB PAGE
XI. How a Prince came ...♦,,. 213
XII. Into which a Potentate comes 220
XIII. At Mr. Brinsmade's Gate 228
XIV, The Breach becomes too Wide 241
XV, Mutterings . 250
XVI. The Guns of Sumter 255
XVII. Camp Jackson 261
XVIII. The Stone that is rejected 274
XIX. The Tenth of May . . 283
XX. In the Arsenal 294
XXI. The Stampede . .310
XXII. The Straining of Another Friendship . 324
XXIII. Of Clarence . 332
BOOK III
I. Introducing a Capitalist 338
II. News from Clarence 352
III. The Scourge of War 367
IV. The List of Sixty 377
V. The Auction ,385
VI. Eliphalet plays his Trumps 400
VII. With the Armies of the West ..... 414
VIII. A Strange Meeting 427
IX. Bellegarde Once More 438
X. In Judge Whipple's Office 449
XI. Lead, Kindly Light 466
XII. The Last Card ,471
XIII. From the Letters of Major Stephen Brice . . . 477
XIV. The Same, Continued . . . . . . .487
XV. The Man of Sorrows ....... 499
XVI. Annapolis = 516
THE CRISIS
BOOK I
CHAPTER I
WHICH DEALS WITH ORIGINS
Faithfully to relate how Eliphalet Hopper came tc
St. Louis is to betray no secret. Mr. Hopper is wont
to tell the story now, when his daughter-in-law is not by j
and sometimes he tells it in her presence, for he is a shame-
less and determined old party who denies the divine right
of Boston, and has taken again to chewing tobacco.
When Eliphalet came to town, his son's wife, Mrs,
Samuel D. (or S. Dwyer, as she is beginning to call her-
self), was not born. Gentlemen of Cavalier and Puritan
descent had not yet begun to arrive at the Planters' House,
to buy hunting shirts and broad rims, belts and bowies,
and depart quietly for Kansas, there to indulge in that
most pleasurable of Anglo-Saxon pastimes, a free fight.
Mr. Douglas had not thrown his bone of Local Sovereignty
to the sleeping dogs of war.
To return to Eliphalet's arrival, — a picture which has
much that is interesting in it. Behold the friendless boy
as he stands in the prow of the great steamboat Louisiana
of a scorching summer morning, and looks with some-
thing of a nameless disquiet on the chocolate waters of
the Mississippi. There have been other sights, since
passing Louisville, which might have disgusted a Massa-
chusetts lad more. A certain deck on the Paducah,
which took him as far as Cairo, was devoted to cattle —
black cattle . Eliphalet possessed a fortunate tempera
THE CRISIS
ment, The deck was dark, and the smell of the wretches
confined there was worse than it should have beem 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 Eliphalet
the sights. Then a fine-linened 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 Eliphaletc 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 slaves.
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 along the levee, and the Louisiana 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 Louisiana. 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-bolto
Admiration burst from the passengers, and one man cried
Dut Captain Brent's age — it was thirty-two,
WHICH DEALS WITH ORIGINS S
Eliphalet snapped his teeth together. He was twenty
seven, and his ambition actually hurt him at such times.
After the boat was fast to the landing stage he remained
watching the captain, who was speaking a few parting
words to some passengers of fashion. The body-servants
were taking their luggage to the carriages. Mr. Hopper
envied the captain his free and vigorous speech, his ready
jokes, and his hearty laugh. All the rest he knew for his
own— in times to come. The carriages, the trained ser-
vants, the obsequiousness of the humbler passengers.
For of such is the Republic.
Then Eliphalet picked his way across the hot stones of
the levee, pushing hither and thither in the rough crowd
of river men ; dodging the mules on the heavy drays, or
making way for the carriages of the few people of impor-
tance who arrived on the boat. If any recollections of
a cool, white farmhouse amongst barren New England
hills disturbed his thoughts, this is not recorded. He
gained the mouth of a street between the low houses
which crowded on the broad river front. The black mud
was thick under his feet from an overnight shower, and
already steaming in the sun. The brick pavement was
lumpy from much travel and near as dirty as the street.
Here, too, were drays blocking the way, and sweaty negro
teamsters swinging cowhides over the mules. The smell
of many wares poured through the open doors, mingling
with the perspiration of the porters. On every side of
him were busy clerks, with their suspenders much in
evidence, and Eliphalet paused once or twice to listen to
their talk. It was tinged with that dialect he had heard
since leaving Cincinnati.
Turning a corner, Eliphalet came abruptly upon a
prophecy. A great drove of mules was charging down
the gorge of the street, and straight at him. He dived into
an entrance, and stood looking at the animals in startled
wonder as they thundered by, flinging the mud over the
pavements. A cursing lot of drovers on ragged horses
made the rear guard.
Eliphalet mopped his brow. The mules seemed to have
U THE CEISIS
aroused in him some sense of his atomity, where the sight
of the pillar of smoke and of the black cattle had faileda
The feeling of a stranger in a strange land was upon him
at lasto 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
floor 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 ? "
"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 poiDt of the conversation a crisp step sounded
from behind, and the wonderful smile came again on th@
surface
WHICH DEALS WITH ORIGINS t
m Mornin', Colonel,'" said a voice which made Eliphalet
jump, And he swung around to perceive the young cap-
tain of the Louisiana.
* Why, Captain Lige," cried the Colonel without cere
mony, "and how do you find yourself to-day, suh ? A good
trip from Orleans ? We did not look for you so soon."
"Tolluble, Colonel, tollable," said the young man-
grasping the Colonel's hand. "Well, Colonel, I just
called to say that I got the seventy bales of goods you
wanted."
"Ephum I " cried the Colonel, diving toward a counter
where glasses were set out, — a custom new to Eiiphalet, • —
u Ephum, some of that very particular Colonel Critten-
den sent me over from Kentucky last week."
An old darkey, with hair as white as the Colonel's,
appeared from behind the partition.
"I 'lowed you'd want it, Marse Comyn, when I seed de
Cap'n cominV said he, with the privilege of an old ser-
vant. Indeed, the bottle was beneath his arm.
The Colonel smiled.
"Hope you'se well, Cap'n," said Ephum, as he drew
the cork,
* Tolluble, Ephum,n replied the Captain, " But, Ephum [
Say, Ephum ! "
" Yes, Bah"
* How's my little sweetheart, Ephum ? "
"Bress your soul, sah," said Ephum, his face falling
perceptibly* " bress your soul, sah, Miss Jinny's done gone
to Halcyondale, in Kaintuck, to see her grandma^ Ole
Ephum ain't de same nigger when she's away."
The young Captain's face showed as much disappoint
ment as the darkey's,
" Cuss it ? " said he, strongly, " if that ain't too bad !
I brought her a Creole doll from New Orleans, which
Madame Claire said was dressed finer than any one she'd
ever seen. All lace and French gewgaws, ColoneL But
you'll send it to her ? "
"That I will, Lige," said the Colonel, heartily. "And
she shall write you the prettiest note of thanks you ever got."
$ THE CRISIS
"Bless her pretty face/9 cried the Captain. 4t He2
health, Colonel ! Here's a long life to Miss Virginia
Carvel, and may she rule forever ! How old did you say
this was ? " he asked, looking into the glass.
44 Over half a century," said Colonel Carvel.
44 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 bluff young Captain put down his glass to laugh.
44 Ruin her I " he exclaimed. " Her pa don't ruin her !
eh, Ephum ? Her pa don't ruin her I "
44 Lawsy, Marse Lige, I reckon he's wuss'n any."
44 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 storeT and con-
tinued: 44 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
going to look something like her, sir. Um ! She was a
fine woman. Black hair, though. Jinny's is brown, like
her Ma's." The Colonel handed a cigar to Captain Brent,
and lit one himself. " Daniel has a book my grandfather
wrote, mostly about her. Lord, I remember her 1 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.
44 He was standing right where you are, sir," he replied
(Captain Lige moved), "and he proposed that I should
buy his influence."
44 What did you do ? "
Colonel Carvel laughed quietly at the recollection.
WHICH DEALS WITH OEIGINS 7
m 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 Russell 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
I'd 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 madb
the sons of Ham the servants of Japheth's sons forevei
and forever."
"Well, well, we won't quarrel about that, sir/' said
Brent, quickly. "If they all 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
ploymenk Isn't that so, sonny ? " asked the Colonel^
kindly.
"Yes."
fi 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 hci-
g THE CEISIS
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 away,
Look a' there now 1 '
" 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 ej^ebrows, 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 began
"jo hate the Colonel.
" Ever hear of the Liberator f "
" No, sir," said Mr. Hopper.
44 Where do you come from ? " This was downright
directness, from which there was no escape*
"Wiliesden, Massachusetts."
" Umph ! And never heard of Mr. Garrison ? n
-'I've had to work all my life."
" What can you do, sonny ? "
" I cailate 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 again.
" What'll you give me ? "
The good man was surprised* " Well," said he, " sevep
dollars a week."
WHICH DEAXS WITH ORIGINS I
Many a time in after life had the Colonel reason to tliink
©ver this scene. He wa? 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 presence 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 in answer to a
pointless question of Mr. Barbo's (cetat 25), to the effect
!;hat 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 thes-:
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. And 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 tc
all New Englanders, comical to Barbo, The two contest
10 THE CEISIS
ants calculated. Barbo reckoned, and put his money oa
his new-found fellow-clerk. Eliphalet, indeed, never
showed to better advantage. The shyness he had used
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 boarders 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 Saiters."
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 Saiters, and had drawed many a load out of Hiram
Saiters' wood-lot to help pay for his schooling.
" Let me see," said Miss Crane, innocently ; " who was
it one of them Saiters girls married, and lived across
the way from the meetin'-house ? "
" Spauldin'," was the prompt reply*
" Wal, I want t' know ! " cried the spinster 5 " 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 ^ableo
WHICH DEALS WITH ORIGINS 51
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 unde1*
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 ! 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,
the 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
Stern 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 stern 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
I 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-
ratiom Puritan and Cavalier united on this clay-bank ia
12 THE CRISIS
the Louisiana Purchase, and swept westward together
Like the struggle of two great rivers when they meet,
the waters for a while were dangerous*
So Eliphalet was established, among the Puritans, at
Miss Crane's. The dishes were to his taste. Brown bread
and beans and pies were plentiful, for it was a land of
plenty. All kinds of Puritans were there, and they at=
tended Mr. Davitt's Congregational Church. And may
it be added in justice to Mr.- Hopper, that he became not
the 1 ^ast devout of the boarderso
CHAPTER H
THE MOLE
For some years, 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, underground. 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, privately, 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
13
U THE CEISIS
to declare whether or not he was a friend of the Divine
Institution. After a while they forgot about him (aK
save Miss 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, minister,
for many years of the Congregational Church. For;
Mr. Davitt was a good man, zealous in his work, unpre-
tentious, and kindly. 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 Anquiries.
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 inquiries failed in the discovery of any young
person with whom Eliphalet "kept company." What-
ever the notions abroad concerning him, he was admittedly
a model. There are many kinds of models. With somss
young ladies at the Sunday School, indeed, he had a dis-
tant bowing acquaintance. They spoke of him as the
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 Encyclopaedias.
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
in texture, with sharp angles at the shoulders, and som-
bre in hue, as befit such grave creationso
THE MOLE 16
Let us go back to a certain fine morning in the Septem-
ber of the year 1857, when 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 that delec-
table counter where the Colonel was wont to regale his
principal 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 ! An5
whah's Ephum, dat black good-fo'-nuthin' ! "
Miracle number one, — Mr. Hopper stopped work and
stared. The vision was searching the store with her eyes,
and pouting.
" How mean of Pa ! " 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 ! You little know the man you
have insulted by your haughty 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, and
began to work. But he was unable to meet the displease
&re in her face,
16 THE CRISIS
" What is your name ? " Miss Carvel demanded.
"Hopper."
"Then, Mr. Hopper, please find Ephum, or Mr. Hood."
Two more bolts were taken off the truck. Out of the
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. I
" Laws, Miss Jinny," cried she, "I may 's 'ell find Ephuim
I knows he's loafin' somewhar hereabouts. An' I ain't
seed him dese five month." And she started for the back
of the store.
" Mammy ! "
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 buff- 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 ! " he cried — " Jinny ! "
Mr. 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 ! "
To Mr. Hopper's surprise, the young lady did not turn
around. She stood perfectly still. But a red flush stole
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 on his face as was too much for Miss
Jinny's serenity. She laughed. That laugh also struck
minor chords upon Mr. Hopper's heart-strings.
But the young gentleman very properly grew angry.
44 You've no right to treat 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.
44 You didn't come from Kentucky alone ! "
44 1 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 ! "
44 Allow me to escort you home," said he, with ceremony,
44 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.
44 Where is Uncle Comyn ? " demanded Mr. Colfax,
swinging his cane with impatience.
Virgina looked hard at Mr. Hopper.
44 1 don't know," she said.
44 Ephum ! " shouted Mr. Colfax. 44 Ephum ! Easter,
where the deuce is that good-for-nothing husband of
yours ? "
44 1 dunno, Marse Clarence. 'Spec he whah he
oughtn't ter be."
Mr. Colfax spied the stooping figure of Eliphalet,
44 Do you work here ? " he demanded.
44 1 callate."
64 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 upon 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 moment 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've been down on the Louisiana, where some incon-
siderate man told me, or I should not have seen you to-
day. I was off 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
^discerning.
THE MOLE IS
*' This person, sir, refused to do a favor for your daugh*
ter. She told him, and I told him, to notify Mrt Hood
that Miss Carvel was here, and he refused."
Mr. Hopper continued his occupation, which was absorb
ing. But he was listening.
Colonel Carvel pulled his goatee, and smiled.
" Clarence," said he, " I reckon I can run this establish-
ment without any help from you and Jinny. I've been
at it now for a good many years."
If Mr. Barbo had not been constitutionally unlucky, he
might have perceived Mr. Hopper, before dark that even-
ing, in conversation with Mr. Hood about a certain cus-
tomer who lived up town, and presently leave the store
by the side entrance. He walked as rapidly as his legs
would carry him, for they were a trifle short for his body 5
and in due time, as the lamps were flickering, he arrived
near Colonel Carvel's large double residence, on Tenth and.
Locust streets. Then he walked slowly along Tenth, his
eyes lifted to the tall, curtained windows. Now and anosi
they scanned passers-by for a chance acquaintance.
Mr. Hopper walked around the block, arriving again
opposite the Carvel house, and beside Mr. Renault's, which
was across from it. Eliphaiet had inherited the princi-
ple of mathematical chances. It is a fact that the dis-
creet sometimes take chances. Towards the back of Mr.
Renault's residence, a wide area was sunk to the depth of
a tall man, which was apparently used for the purpose of
getting coal and wood into the cellar. Mr. Hopper swept
the neighborhood with a glance. The coast was clear,
and he dropped into the area.
Although the evening was chill, at first Mr. Hopper
perspired very freely. He crouched in the area while the
steps of pedestrians beat above his head, and took no
thought but of escape. At last, however, he grew cooler,
removed his hat, and peeped over the stone coping.
Colonel Carvel's house — her house — was now ablaze
with lights, and the shades not yet drawn. There was
the dining room, where the negro butler was moving
M THE CRISIS
about the table ; and the pantry, where the butler 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 across
the light. He held a newspaper in his hand. Suddenly,
full 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?"
st 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 ! " 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.
"Alphonse!" cried Mr. Renault, "Alphonse!" A
door opened in the back wall. "Du vin pour Monsieur
Xe Capitaine."
" Oui, M'sieu."
Eliphalet was too frightened to wonder why this taci-
turn handler of wood was called Captain, and treated with
such respect.
THE MOLE 21
" Guess I won't take any wine to-night, Mr. Renault,9*
said he. " You go inside, or you'll take cold."
Mr. Renault protested, asked about all the residents of
Gravois way, and finally obeyed. Eliphalet's heart was
in his mouth. A bolder spirit would have dashed for
liberty. Eliphalet did not possess that kind of bravery.
He was waiting for the Captain to turn toward his wagon.
He looked down the area instead, with the light from
the street lamp on his face. Fear etched an ineffaceable
portrait of him on Mr. Hopper's mind, so that he knew
him instantly when he saw him years afterward. Little
did he reckon that the fourth time he was to see him this
man was to be President of the United States. He wore
a close-cropped beard, an old blue army overcoat, and his
trousers were tucked into a pair of muddy cowhide boots,
Swiftly but silently the man reached down and hauled
Eliphalet to the sidewalk by the nape of the neck.
" What were you doing there ? " demanded he of the
blue overcoat, sternly.
Eliphalet did not answer. With one frantic wrench
he 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.
CHAPTER III
THE UNATTAINABLE SIMPLICITY
To Mr. Hopper the being caught was the unpardonable
Grime. 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 Engianders ever reach.
And over what ?
THE UNATTAINABLE SIMPLICITY £3
Over the prospective arrival that evening of the BriceSr
mother and son, from Boston. Miss Crane had received
the message in the morning. Palpitating with the news,
she had hurried rustling to Mrs. Abner Reed, with the
paper in her hand.
"I guess you don't mean Mrs. Appleton Brice," said
Mrs. Reed.
" That's just who I mean," answered Miss Crane, trium=
phantly, — nay, aggressively.
Mrs. Abner shook her curls in a way that made people
overwhelm her with proofs.
" Mirandy, you're cracked," said she, " Ain't you never
been to Boston?"
Miss Crane bridled. This was an uncalled-for insult.
" I guess I visited down Boston-way oftener than yoiij
Eliza Reed. You never had any clothes."
Mrs. Reed's strength was her imperturbability.
" And you never set eyes on the Brice house, opposite
\.he Common, with the swelled front? I'd like to find out
^here you were a-visitin'. And you've never heard tell
If 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
Bales', in Mount Vernon Street, in thirty-seven, Mrs.
Charles Atterbury Brice used to come there in her car-
riage, 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
o buy the whole of St. Louis."
Miss Crane rattled the letter in her hand. She brought
forth her reserves.
" Yes, and 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 ! " she exclaimed. " The durned fool I
Well, Appleton Brice didn't have the family brains, and
h® was kind of soft-hearted . I've heard Mehitabel Da!^
M THE CRISIS
say that." She paused to reflect. "So they're coming
here ? " she added. " I wonder why."
Miss Crane'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 ! " she said. " This is a day of wonders, ,
Mirandy. Now Lord help the boy if he's goin' to work
for the Judge." <
" 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 ! " said Mrs. Abner, scornfully.
44 How many friends has he ? "
" Those he has are warm enough," Miss Crane retortedo
" Look at Colonel Carvel, who has him to dinner every
Sunday."
"That's plain as your nose, Mirandy Crane. They
both like quarrellin' better than anything in this world."
" Well," said Miss Crane, " 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 25
lost. Commercial supremacy, — that was Mr. Hopper's
creed. Family is a good thing, but of what use is a crest
without the panels on which to paint it? Can a diamond
brooch shine on a calico gown? Mr. Hopper deemed
church the place for worship. He likewise had his own
idol in his closet.
Eliphalet at Willesden had heard a great deal of Boston
airs and graces and intellectuality, of the favored few
of that city who lived in mysterious houses, and who
crossed the sea in ships. He pictured Mrs. Brice asking
for a spoon, and young Stephen sniffing at Mrs. Crane's
boarding-house. And he resolved with democratic spirit
that he would teach Stephen a lesson, if opportunity
offered. His own discrepancy between the real and the
imagined was no greater than that of the rest of his fellow-
boarders.
Barring Eliphalet, there was a dress parade that even-
ing,-—silks and bombazines and broadcloths, and Miss
Crane's special preserves on the tea-table. Alas, that
most of the deserved honors of this world should fall upon
barren ground !
The quality which baffled Mr. Hopper, and some other
boarders, was simplicity. None save the truly great pos-
sess it (but this is not generally known). Mrs. Brio?
was so natural, that first evening at tea, that all were dis-
appointed. The hero upon the reviewing stand with the
halo of the Unknown behind his head is one thing ; the
lady of Family who sits beside you at a boarding-house
and discusses the weather and the journey is quite another.
They were prepared to hear Mrs. Brice rail at the dirt of
St. Louis and the crudity of the West. They pictured
her referring with sighs to her Connections, and bewail-
ing that Stephen could not have finished his course at
Harvard.
She did nothing of the sort.
The first shock was so great that Mrs. Abner Reed cried
in the privacy of her chamber, and the Widow Crane con-
fessed her disappointment to the confiding ear of her bosom
friend, Mrs. Merrill. Not many years later a man named
26 THE CRISIS
Grant was to be in Springfield, 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 great, 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
own. We begin to respect ourselves the more, and to
realize that they are merely clay like us, that we are great
men without Opportunity. Sometimes, if we live long
enough near the Great, we begin to have misgivings.
Then 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 effect upon the boarders. They
were nearly all prepared to be humble. They grew arro-
gant and pretentious. They asked Mrs. Brice if she knew
this and that person of consequence in Boston, with whom
they claimed relationship or intimacy. Her answers were
amiable and self-contained.
But what shall we say of Stephen Brice? Let us con-
fess at once that it is he who is the hero of this story, and
not Eliphalet Hopper. It would be so easy to paint
Stephen in shining colors, and to make him a first-class
prig (the horror of 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's. 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-
ing. There were one or two of discernment present,
and they noted that his were the generous features of a
marked man, — if he chose to become marked. He inher-
ited his mother's look ; hers was the face of a strong
woman, wide of sympathy, broad of experience, showing
peace of mind amid troubles — the touch of femininity
was there to soften itc
THE UNATTAINABLE SIMPLICITY 2tf
Her son had the air of the college-bred. In these sur-
roundings he escaped arrogance by the wonderful kindli=
ness of his eye, which lighted when his mother spoke to
him. But he was not at home at Miss Crane's table, and
he made no attempt to appear at his ease.
This was an unexpected pleasure for Mr. Eliphalet
Hopper. Let it not be thought that he was the only 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 meant, in
Mr. Hopper's philosophy, to lose one's money. It was
thus he gauged the importance of his acquaintances ; it
was thus he hoped some day to be gauged. And he
trusted and believed that the time would come when he
could give his fillip to the upper rim of fortune's wheel,
and send it spinning downward.
Mr. Hopper was drinking his tea and silently forming
an estimate. He concluded that young Brice was not the
type to acquire tne money which his father had lost.
And he reflected that Stephen 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.
'* Callatin' to go to work ? " he asked him, as the
boarders walked into the best room.
" Yes," replied Stephen, taken aback. And it may be
said here that, if Mr. Hopper underestimated him, cer-
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.
" Gosh !" exclaimed Mr. Hopper, "I want to know.?>
In reality he was a bit chagrined, having pictured with
some pleasure the Boston aristocrat going from store to
store for a situation. " You didn't come here figurin' on
xnakin* a pile, I guess."
28 THE CKISIS
*A wnat?"
"A pile,"
Stephen looked down and over Mr. Hopper attentively.
He took in the blocky shoulders and the square headf
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.
44 What office was you going into ? w he asked genially 0
Mrc Brice decided to answer that.
44 Judge Whipple's- — unless he has changed his mind."
Eliphalet gave him a look more eloquent than words,
" Know the Judge ? "
"No."
Silent laughter.
64 If all the Fourth of Julys we've 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
quarrel in the store and carry it all the way up the street,
I eailate you won't stay with him a great while."
CHAPTER IV
BLACK CATTLE
Later 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 kind," she assented, with a sigh. " But
they are not — they are not from among our £riends9
Stephen."
" I thought that one of our reasons for coming West;
mother," answered Stephen.
His mother looked pained.
" Stephen, how can you ! 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 than
good."
He left the window and came and stood behind heir
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-
29
30 THE CEISIS
sponded instantly, thereby proving that she was his
mother.
44 And it touched the Rights of Privacy," he added,
laughing, 44 which do not seem to exist in St. Louis
boarding-houses. "
44 In the eyes of your misguided profession, statesmen
and authors and emigrants and other public charges have
no Eights cf Privacy," said she. 44 Mr. Longfellow told
me once that they were to name a brand of flour for him,
and that he had no redress."
44 Have you, too, been up before Miss Crane's Commis-
sion ? " he asked, with amused interest.
His mother laughed.
44 Yes," she said quietly.
44 They have some expert members," he continued.
44 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 — "
44 My dear," answered Mrs. Brice, 44 1 suppose they
know all about us." She was silent a moment — 44I had
so hoped that they wouldn't. They lead the same narrow
life in this house that they did in their little New England
towns. They — they pity us, Stephen."
44 Mother ! "
44 1 did not expect to find so many New Englanders here
— I wish that Mr. Whipple had directed us elsewhere — "
44 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. 44 A wonder-
ful people, — born aristocrats. You don't remember those
Randolphs with whom we travelled through England.
They were with us at Kollingclean, Lord North well's place.
You were too small at the time. There was a young girl,
Eleanor Randolph, a beauty. I shall never forget the
way 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."
BLACK CATTLE 31
" You did not glean that from Judge Whipple's letter,
mother," said Stephen, mischievously.
" He was very frank in his letter," sighed Mrs. Brice.
" I imagine he is always frank, to put it delicately."
" Your father always spoke in praise of Silas Whipple,
my dear. I have heard him call him one of the ablest
lawyers in the country. He won a remarkable case for
Appleton here, and he once said that the Judge would
have sat on the Supreme Bench if he had not been pur-
sued with such relentlessness by rascally politicians."
a The Judge indulges in a little relentlessness now and
then, himself. He is not precisely what might be termed
a mild man, if what we hear is correct."
Mrs. Brice started.
" What have you heard ? " she asked.
" Well, there was a gentleman on the steamboat who
said that it took more courage to enter the Judge's private
office than to fight a Border Ruffian. And another, a
young lawyer, who declared that he would rather face a
wild cat than ask Whipple a question on the new
code. And yet he said that the Judge knew more law
than any man in the West. And lastly, there is a
polished gentleman named Hopper here from Massa-
chusetts who enlightened me a little more."
Stephen paused and bit his tongue. He saw that she
was distressed by these things. Heaven knows that she
had borne enough trouble in the last few months.
" Come, mother," he said gently, " you should know
how to take my jokes by this time. I didn't mean it. I
am sure the Judge is a good man, — one of those aggres-
sive good men who make enemies. I have but a single
piece of guilt to accuse him of."
" And what is that ? " asked the widow.
" The cunning forethought which he is showing ii
wishing to have it said that a certain Senator and Judge
Brice was trained in his office."
" Stephen — you goose ! " she said.
Her e}~e wandered around the room, — Widow Crane's
best bedroom. It was dimly lighted by an extremely
32 THE CEISIS
ugly lamp. The hideous stuffy bed curtains and the
more hideous imitation marble mantel were the two
objects that held her glance. There was no change in
her calm demeanor. But Stephen, who knew his 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 of 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.
M 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 pa}dng 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 allowanceo
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.
"Ehs 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 agaim
It was your father's dearest wish that you should become
BLACK CATTLE S8
a lawyer, and— and his wishes are sacred God will take
;2are of us."
She rose and kissed hiin good-night.
*' Remember, my dear, when you go to Judge Whippk
in the morning, remember his kindness, and —
44 And keep my temper, I shall, mother."
A while later he stole gently back into her room again
She was on her knees by the walnut bedstead,
At nine the next morning Stephen left Miss Crane's,
girded for the struggle with the redoubtable Silas Whipple,
He was not afraid, but a poor young man as an applicant
to a notorious dragon is not likely to be handled with
velvet, even though the animal had been a friend of his
father. Dragons as a rule have had a hard time in their
youths, and believe in others' having a hard time.
To a young man, who as his father's heir in Boston had
been the subject of marked consideration by his elders, the
situation was keenly distasteful. But it had to be gone
through. So presently, after inquiry, he came to the open
square where the new Court House stood, the dome of
which was indicated by a mass of staging, and one wing
still to be completed. Across from the building, on Mar-
ket Street, and in the middle of the block, what had once
been a golden hand pointed up a narrow dusty stairway
Here was a sign, " Law office of Silas Whipple."
Stephen climbed the stairs, and arrived at a ground =
glass door, on which the sign was repeated* Behind that
door was the future : so he opened it fearfully, with an
impulse to throw his arm abo^e his head. But he was
struck dumb on beholding, instead of a dragon, a good
natured young man who smiled a broad welcome. Trie
reaction was as great as though one entered a dragon's
den, armed to the teeth, to find a St. Bernard doing the
honors.
Stephen's heart went out to this young man, — after
that organ had jumped back into its place. This keeper
of the dragon looked the part. Even the long black coat
which custom then decreed could not hide the bone and
34 THE CRISIS
sinew under it. The young man had a broad forehead,
placid Dresden-blue eyes, flaxen hair, and the German
coloring. Across one of his high cheek-bones was a great
jagged 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 here," said Stephen.
" Ach! " 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 to
BLACK CATTLE 35
take place a memorable interview. But the thought of
waiting an hour for the dragon to appear was disquieting.
Stephen remembered that he had something over nine
hundred dollars in his pocket (which he had saved out
of his last year's allowance at the Law School). So he
asked Mr. Richter, who was dusting off a chair, to direct
him to the nearest bank.
" Why, certainly," said he; "Mr. Brinsmade's bank on
Chestnut Street." He took Stephen to the window and
pointed across the square. " I am sorry I cannot go with
you," he added, " but the Judge's negro, Shadrach, is out,
and I must stay in the office. I will give you a note to
Mr. Brinsmade."
"His negro !" exclaimed Stephen. "Why, I thought
that Mr. Whipple was an Abolitionist."
Mr. Richter laughed.
" The man is free," said he. " The Judge pays him
wages."
Stephen thanked his new friend for the note to the
bank president, and went slowly down the stairs. To be
keyed up to a battle-pitch, and then to have the battle
deferred, is a trial of flesh and spirit.
As he reached the pavement, he saw people gathering
in front of the wide entrance of the Court House opposite,
and perched on the copings. He hesitated, curious. Then
he walked slowly toward the place, and buttoning his
coat, pushed through the loafers and passers-by dallying
on the outskirts of the crowd. There, in the bright
November sunlight, a sight met his eyes which turned
him sick and dizzy.
Against the walls and pillars of the building, already/
grimy with soot, crouched a score of miserable human
beings waiting to be sold at auction. Mr. Lynch's slave
pen had been disgorged that morning. Old and young,
husband and wife, — the moment was come for all and
each. How hard the stones ! and what more pitiless than
the gaze of their fellow-creatures in the crowd below!
O friends, we who live in peace and plenty amongst
our families, how little do we realize the terror and the
m THE CRISIS
misery and the dumb heart-aches of those days \ Stephen
thought with agony of seeing his own mother sold before
Ms 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 was inviting the people to pinch
the wares. Men came forward to feel 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 Abolitionist9
. — far from it. Nor had his father's 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 dream0
Then came a lull, a hitch, and the crowd began t<r
shatter gayly. But the misery in front of him held
BLACK CATTLE 37
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 weak-
ness made her valueless. Then two girls were pushed forth,
one a quadroon of great beauty, 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 ! " 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 niggers
ain't fit for freedom."
Silence from Stephen.
"Likely gal, that beauty," 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-
gers will go too, and they'd ruther go to hell. They do treat
'em nefarious daown thah on the wholesale plantations.
Household niggers ! there ain't none better off than them,
But seven years in a cotton swamp, — seven years it takes \
that's all, 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
prope'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 hoss fust," said another.
38 THE CRISIS
The auctioneer turned to the darker sister*
"Sal ain't much on looks, gentlemen," he said, "but
she's the best nigger 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
dollar, and she kin sew and cook. Twenty-two years old.
What am I bid?"
Much to the auctioneer's disgust, Sal was bought in for
four hundred dollars, the interest in the beautiful sister
having 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
seized the threadbare hem of his coat. Stephen paused
involuntarily.
" Well, Nancy," said the little man, " we had marvellous
luck. I was able to buy your daughter for you with less
than the amount of your savings."
" T'ank you, Mistah Cantah," wailed the poor woman,
H'ank you, suh. Praised be de name ob de Lawd. He
gib me Sal again. Oh, Mistah Cantah " (the agony in
that cry), " is you gwineter stan' heah an' see her sister
Hester sol' to — to — oh, ma little chile ! 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'll rewa'd you, suh. Dis ole woman'll wuk fo'
you twell 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.
" Nancy," he answered (how often, and to how many,
must he have had to say the same thing), u I haven't the
money, Nancy. Would to God that I had, Nancy ! "
She had sunk down on the bricks. But she had not
fainted. It was not so 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 awry.
Stephen Brice was not of a descent to do things upon
impulse. But the tale was told in after days that one
of his 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'tedo
They ain't begun to sell her yet — he's waitin' for some-
body. Callatin' 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 Brice0
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 earth3
He ceased trembling, and began to think.
" Tarnation ! " said Eliphalet. " There's my boss, Colonel
iO THE CBISIs
Carvel, across tne street Guess I'd better move on^ But
what d'ye think of him for a real Southern gentleman ?
The young dandy is his nephew, Clarence Colfax* He
callates to own this town," Eliphalet was speaking
leisurely, as usual,, while preparing to move, " That's
Virginia Carvel, in red. Any gals down Boston-way to
beat her ? Guess you won't find many as proud."
He departed. And Stephen glanced absently at zhe
group, They were picking their way over the muddy
crossing toward him. Was it possible that these people
were coming to a slave auction ? Surely not. And yet
here they were on the pavement at his very side.
She wore a long Talma of crimson cashmere, and her
face was in that most seductive of frames, a scoop bonnet
of dark green velvet. For a fleeting second her eyes met
his, and then her lashes fell. But he was aware, when he
had turned away, that she was looking at him again. He
grew uneasy. He wondered whether his appearance be=
trayed his purpose, or made a question of his sanity.
Sanity I Yes, probably he was insane from her point of
view, A sudden anger shook him that she should be
there calmly watching such a scene,
Just then there was a hush among the crowd. The
beautiful slave-girl was seized roughly by the man in
charge and thrust forward, half fainting, into view,
Stephen winced. But unconsciously he turned, to see
the effect upon Virginia Carvel,
Thank God S There were tears upon her lashes*
Here was the rasp of the auctioneer's voice s —
" Gentlemen, I reckon there ain't never been offered to
didders such an opportunity as this heah, Look at her
well, gentlemen0 I ask you, ain't she a splendid crea-
ture?"
Colonel Carvel, in annoyance, started to move on.
56 Come Jinny," he said? " I had no business to bring you
over. "
But Virginia caught his arm0 "Pa,'? she cried, "it's
Mr, Benbow's Hester, Don't go, dear. Buy her for me
You know that I always wanted her, P?ease ! n
BLACK CATTLE fe.
The Colonel halted, irresolute, and pulled his goatee
Foung Colfax stepped in between them.
u I'll buy her for you, Jinny. Mother promised you &
present, you know, and you shall have her.w
Virginia had calmed.
" Do buy her, one of you," was ail she saidc
" You may do the bidding, Clarence," said the Colonel,
u and we'll settle the ownership afterward." Taking Vir
ginia's arm, he escorted her across the streets
Stephen was left in a quandary. Here was a home for
the girl, and a good one* Why should he spend the money
which meant so much to him ? He saw the man Jenkins
elbowing to the front. And yet — suppose Mr. Colfax did
not get her ? He had promised to buy her if he could,
and to set her free:
Stephen had made up his mind. He shouldered his way
after Jenkins,
CHAPTER V
THE FIRST SPARK PASSES
"Now, gentlemen," shouted the auctioneer, when he
had finished his oration upon the girl'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 ! There's my friend Alf Jen=
kins. He knows what she's worth to a cent. WhatJI!
you give, Alf ? Is it eight hundred ? "
Mr. Jenkins winked at the auctioneer, and the crowd:
joined in the laugh.
" Three hundred ! " he said.
The auctioneer was mortally offended. Then some on?
cried : —
" Three hundred and fifty ! "
It was young Colfax. He was recognized at once, by
name, evidently as a person of importance.
" Thank you, Mistah Colfax, suh," said the auctioneer,
with a servile wave of the hand in his direction, while the
crowd twisted their necks to see him. He stood very
straight, very haughty, as if entirely oblivious to his con-
spicuous position.
" Three seventy-five ! "
46 That's better, Mistah Jenkins," said the auctioneer,
sarcastically. He turned to the girl, who might have
stood to a sculptor for a figure of despair. Her hands
were folded in front of her, her head bowed down. The
auctioneer put his hand under her chin and raised it
roughly. " Cheer up, my gal," he said, " you ain't got
nothing to blubber about now."
Hester's breast heaved, and from her black eyes there
42
THE FIKST SPAKK PASSES 43
shot a magnificent look of defiance. He laughed. That
was the white blood.
The white blood !
Clarence Colfax had his bid taken from his lips. Above
the heads of the people he had a quick vision of a young
man with a determined face, whose voice rang clear and
strong, —
" Four hundred ! "
Even the auctioneer, braced two ways, was thrown off
his balance by the sudden appearance of this new force.
Stephen grew red over the sensation he made. Appar-
ently the others present had deemed competition with
such as Jenkins and young Colfax the grossest folly.
He was treated to much liberal staring before the oily
salesman arranged his wits to grapple with the third
factor.
"Four hundred from — from — from that gentleman."
And the chubby index seemed the finger of scorn.
" Four hundred and fifty ! " said Mr. Colfax, defiantly.
Whereupon Mr. Jenkins, the New Orleans dealer,
lighted a very long cigar and sat down on the coping,
The auctioneer paid no attention to this manoeuvre. But
Mr. Brice and Mr. Colfax, being very young, fondly
imagined that they had the field to themselves, to fight
to a finish.
Here wisdom suggested in a mild whisper to Stephen
that there was a last chance to pull out. And let Colfax
have the girl ? Never. That was pride, and most repre-
hensible. But second he thought of Mr. Canter and old
Nancy, and that was not pride.
" Four seventy-five ! " he cried.
"Thank you, suh."
" Now fur it, young uns ! " said the wag, and the crowd
howled with merriment.
" Five hundred ! " snapped Mr. Colfax.
He was growing angry. But Stephen was from New
England, and poor, and he thought of the size of his
purse. A glance at his adversary showed that his blood
was up. Money was plainly no consideration to hims and
44 THE CRISIS
young Colfax did not seem to be the kind who would relish
returning to a young lady and acknowledge a defeat.
Stephen raised the bid by ten dollars. The Southerner
shot up fifty. Again Stephen raised it ten. He was in
full possession of himself now, and proof against the
thinly veiled irony of the oily man's remarks in favor of
Mr. Colfax. In an incredibly short time the latter's
impetuosity had brought them to eight hundred and ten
dollars.
Then several things happened very quickly.
Mr. Jenkins got up from the curb and said, "Eight
hundred and twenty -five," with his cigar in his mouth,
Scarcely had the hum of excitement died when Stephen,
glancing at Colfax for the next move, saw that young
gentleman seized from the rear by his uncle, the tall
Colonel. And across the street was Miss Virginia Carvel,
tapping her foot on the pavement.
" What are you about, sir ? " the Colonel cried. " The
wench isn't worth it."
Mr. Colfax shook himself free.
" I've got to buy her now, sir," he cried.
" I reckon not," said the Colonel. " You come along
with me."
Naturally Mr. Colfax was very angry. He struggled,
but he went. And so, protesting, he passed Stephen, at
whom he did not deign to glance. The humiliation of it
must have been great for Mr. Colfax. " Jinny wants her,
sir," he said, "and I have a right to buy her."
"Jinny wants everything," was the Colonel's reply
And in a single look of curiosity and amusement his
own gray eyes met Stephen's. They seemed to regret
that this young man, too, had not a guardian. Then
uncle and nephew recrossed the street, and as they
walked off the Colonel was seen to laugh. Virginia had
her chin in the air, and Clarence's was in his collar.
The crowd, of course, indulged in roars of laughter, and
even Stephen could not repress a smile, — a smile not with-
out bitterness. Then he wheeled to face Mr. Jenkins. Out
of respect for the personages involved, the auctioneer had
THE FIRST SPARK PASSES 45
been considerately silent during the event. It was Mr,
Brice who was now the centre of observation.
" Come, gentlemen, come ! 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 ! " said Stephen.
" Now, Mr. Jenkins, now, suh ! we've got twenty mo'
to sell."
" Eight fifty ! " said Mr. Jenkins.
" Eight sixty ! " said Stephen, and they cheered him.
Mr. Jenkins took his cigar out of his teeth, and stared,
" Eight seventy-five ! " said he.
" Eight eighty-five ! " said Stephen.
There was a breathless pause.
" Nine hundred ! " said the trader.
" Nine hundred and ten ! " 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 fo' 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 ! " 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 is 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.
m THE CRISIS
" Handle her gently, you blackguard I " he cried.
The man took his hands off.
" Suttinly, sah," he said.
Hester lifted her eyes, and they were filled with such
gratitude and trust that suddenly he was overcome with
embarrassment.
" Can you walk ? " he demanded, somewhat harshly*
"Yes, massa."
" Then get up," he said, " and follow me,"
She rose obediently. Then a fat man came out of the
Court House, with a quill in his hand, and a merry twin-
kle in his eye that Stephen resented.
" This way, please, sah," and he led him to a desk, from
the drawer of which he drew forth a blank deeds
" Name, please ! "
"Stephen Atterbury Brice."
" Residence, Mr. Brice ! "
Stephen gave the number. But instead of writing it
down, the man merely stared at him, while the fat creases
in his face deepened and deepened. Finally he put down
his quill, and indulged in a gale of laughter, hugely to
Mrc Bricevs discomfiture.
" Shucks ! " said the fat man, as soon as he could,
"What are you givin' us? That the's a Yankee
boa'dinVhouse."
" And I suppose that that is part of your business, too,"
said Stephen, acidly.
The fat man looked at him, pressed his lips, wrote down
the number, shaken all the while with a disturbance which
promised to lead to another explosionc Finally, after a
deal of pantomime, and whispering and laughter with the
notary behind the wire screen, the deed was made out,
signed, attested, and delivered. Stephen counted out the
money grimly, in gold and Boston drafts.
Out in the sunlight on Chestnut Street, with the girl
by his side, it all seemed a nightmare. The son of Apple-
ton Brice of Boston the owner of a beautiful quadroon
girl I And he had bough her with his last cento
Miss Crane herself opened the door in answer te hi^
THE FIRST SPAKK PASSES A
ring. Her keen eyes instantly darted over his shoulder^
and dilated. But Stephen, summoning all his courage,
pushed past her to the stairs, and beckoned Hester to
follow.
" I have brought this — this person to see my mother,"
he said.
The spinster bowed from the back of her neck. She
stood transfixed on a great rose in the hall carpet until
she heard Mrs. Brice's door open and slam, and then she
strode up the stairs and into the apartment of Mrs. Abner
Reed. As she passed the first landing, the quadroon girl
was waiting in the hall.
QHAPTEE VI
§ELAS 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 consideration for
Mr, Stephen Brice, we shall skip likewise a most affecting
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,
he ascsndedo 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
shirtsleeves from his desk to greet himv all smiling.
wAch, my friend!" said he, "but you are late The
Judge has been awaiting you."
" Has he ? " inquired Stephen, with ill-concealed anx-
iety3
The big young German patted him on the shoulder,
Suddenly a voice roared from out the open transom of the
private office, like a cydone ?noshing through a gap^
« Mr. Richter I "
« Sir I "
« Who is that?"
" Mr. Brice, sir,"
" Then why in thunder doesn't he come in ? n
Mr, Richter opened the private door, and in Stephen
walked. The door closed again, and there he was in ths
dr£?*ip,*s denT face to face with the dragon* who was star
48
SILAS WHIPPLE 4S
ing him through and through, The first objects that
caught Stephen's attention were the grizzly gray eye-
brows, which seemed as so much brush to mark the fire
of the deep-set battery of the eyes. And that battery 9
when in action, must have been truly terrible.
The Judge was shaven, save for a shaggy fringe of gray
beard around his chin, and the size of his nose was appar
ent even in the full face.
Stephen felt that no part of him escaped the search of
Mr. Whipple's glance. But it was no code or course
of conduct that kept him silent. Nor was it fear —
entirely.
" So you are Appleton Brice's son," said the Judge, at
last. His tone was not quite so gruff as it might have
been.
" Yes, sir," said Stephen.
" Humph ! " said the Judge, with a look that scarcely
expressed approval. " I guess you've been patted on the
back too much by your father's friends." He leaned
back in his wooden chair. " How I used to detest people
who patted boys on the back and said with a smirk, 'I
know your father.* I never had a father whom people
could say that about. But, sir," cried the Judge, bring-
ing down his fist on the litter of papers that covered his
desk, "I made up my mind that one day people should
know me. That was my spur. And 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 little room, — at the bed in the
corner, in which the Judge slept, and which during the
day did not escape the flood of books and papers; at
the washstand, with a roll of legal cap beside the pitcher,
" 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*
§0 THE CKISIS
" Why didn't your mother let me know that she waa
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 here 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 merely 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 Detector. " 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. But Mr*
Richter was not in the outer office when he returned to it,
He tried to compose himself 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
o£ failure^ He had gone through the ground glass door
SILAS WHIPPLE 65
with the firm intention of making a clean breast of the
ownership of Hester. Now, as he sat still, the trouble
grew upon him. He started a new sheet, and ruined that,
Once he got as far as his feet, and sat down again. But
at length he had quieted to the extent of deciphering ten
fines of Mrs Whipple's handwriting when the creak of a
door shattered his nerves completely,
He glanced up from his work to behold — none other
than Colonel Comyn Carvel.
Glancing at Mr, Richter's chair, and seeing it empty 9
the Colonel's eye roved about the room until it found
Stephen. There it remained, and the Colonel remained
in the middle of the floor, his soft hat on the back of his
head, one hand planted firmly on the gold head of his
stick, and the other tugging at his goatee, pulling down
his chin to the quizzical angle,
« Whoopee ! " he cried,
The effect of this was to make one perspire freely
Stephen perspired. And as there seemed no logical
answer, he made none.
Suddenly Mr. Carvel turned, shaking with a laughter
he could not control, and strode into the private office,
The door slammed behind him, Mr-. Brice's impulse was
flight. But he controlled himself.
First of all there was an eloquent silence. Then a
ripple of guffaws = Then the scratch- scratch of a quill
pen, and finally the Judge's voice.
" Carvel, what the devil's the matter with you, sir ? "
A squall of guffaws blew through the transom, and the
Colonel was heard slapping his knee.
"Judge Whipple," said he, his voice vibrating from
suppressed explosions, " I am happy to see that you have
overcome some of your ridiculous prejudices, sir."
"What prejudices, sir ? " the Judge was heard to shout,
"Toward slavery, Judge," said Mr. Carvel, seeming
to recover his gravity, " You are a broader man than I
thought, sir."
An unintelligible gurgle came from the Judgec Then
fee said, —
m THE CRISIS
u Carvelj haven't you and I quarrelled enough on that
subject?"
" You didn't happen to attend the nigger auction this
morning when you were at the court ? n asked the Colonel,
blandly.
" Colonel/* said the Judge, " I've warned you a hundred
times against the stuff you lay out on your counter for
customers."
"You weren5t 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!"
"MR. BRICEf"
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 you0 What is
your opinion, sir, on the subject of holding human beings
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 glimpse of the Colonel's hand slipping from his chiu
over his moutho
SILAS WHIPPLE m
** Good God, sir ? " cried the Judge, and he sat down
heavil yB " You say that you are an Abolitionist ? '*
"No, sir, I do not say that. But it does not need an
Abolitionist to condemn what I saw this morning."
"Are you a slave-owner, sir?" said Mr, Whipple,
" Yes, sir."
"Then get your coat and hat and leave my office,
Mr. Brice."'
Stephen's coat was on his arm He slipped it on, and
turned to go. He was, if the truth were told, more
amused than angry, It was Colonel Carvel's voice that
stopped him.
" Hold on, Judge," he drawled, " I reckon you haven't
got all the packing out of that case."
Mr. Whipple looked at him in a sort of stupefaction
Then he glanced at Stephen.
"Come back here, sir," he cried. "I'll give you $
hearing. No man shall say that I am not just,"
Stephen looked gratefully at the Colonel,
" I did not expect one, sir," he said.-
" And you don't deserve one, sir," cried the Judge
" I think I do," replied Stephen, quietly.
The Judge suppressed something.
" What did you do with this person ? " he demanded,
"I took her to Miss Crane's boarding-house," said
Stephen.
It was the Colonel's turn to explode. The guffaw
which came from him drowned every other sound.
" Good God ! " said the Judge, helplessly. Again he
looked at the Colonel, and this time something very like
mirth shivered his lean frame, "And what do you
intend to do with her ? " he asked in strange tones,
" To 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
" Mrc Brice," said the Judge, at length- * take off youi?
coat, sir, I will go her bond,"
U THE CEISIS
It was Stephen's turn to be taken abacko 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 you, sir," he said.
His hand was on the knob of the door, when Mr,
Whipple called him back abruptly. His voice had lost
gome of its gruffness.
" What were your father's ideas about slavery, Mr,
Brice?"
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
at all 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!" 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
in bondage than risk their worldly goods in an attempt
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.
"lam 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
SILAS WHIPPLE 5S
Stephen did not mark the quick look of approval which
Colonel Carvel gave him. Judge Whipple merely rubbed
his nose.
" Well, sir," he said, " what were his views, then ? "
" My father regarded slaves as property, sir. And con-
servative people" (Stephen stuck to the word) "respect
property the world over. My father's argument was this :
If men are deprived by violence of one kind of property
which they hold under the law, all other kinds of property
will be endangered. The result will be anarchy. Further-
more, he recognized that the economic conditions in the
South make slavery necessary to prosperity. And he re-
garded the covenant made between the states of the two
sections as sacred."
There was a brief silence, during which the uncompro-
mising expression of the Judge did not change.
" And do you, sir ? " he demanded.
" I am not sure, sir, after what I saw yesterday. 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.
CHAPTER VXI
CALLERS
If the Brices had created an excitement upon their
arrival, it was as nothing to the mad delirium which
raged at Miss Crane's boarding-house during the second
afternoon of their stay. Twenty times was Miss Crane
on the point of requesting Mrs. Brice to leave, and twenty
times, by the advice of Mrs. Abner Reed, she desisted.
The culmination came when the news leaked out that
Mr. Stephen Brice had bought the young woman in
order to give her freedom. Like those who have done
noble acts since the world began, Stephen that night was
both a hero and a fool. The cream from which heroes is
made is very apt to turn.
" Phew I " cried Stephen, when they had reached their
room after tea, " wasn't that meal a fearful experience ?
Let's find a hovel, mother, and go and live in it. We
can't stand it here any longer."
"Not if you persist in your career of reforming an
Institution, my son," answered the widow, smiling.
"It was beastly hard luck," said he, "that I should
have been shouldered with that experience the first day.
But I have tried to think it over calmly since, and I can
see nothing else to have done." He paused in his pacing
up and down, a smile struggling with his serious look,
" It was quite a hot-headed business for one of the staid
Brices, wasn't it ? "
" The family has never been called impetuous/' replied
his mother. " It must be the Western air."
He began his pacing again. His mother had not said
one word about the money. Neither had he. Once mere
he stopped before her.
56
CALLEKS 5*
"We are at least a year nearer the poor-house,** he
&aid ; " you haven't scolded me for that. I should feel
so much better if you would."
" Oh, Stephen, don't say that ! " she exclaimed. " God
has given me no greater happiness in this life than the
sight of the gratitude of that poor creature, Nancy. I
shall never forget the old woman's joy at the sight of her
daughter. It made a palace out of that dingy furniture
shop. Hand me my handkerchief, dear.'*
Stephen noticed with a pang that the lace of it was
frayed and torn at the corner.
There was a knock at the door.
" Come in," said Mrs, Brice, hastily putting the hand-
kerchief down.
Hester stood on the threshold, and old Nancy beside her.
" Evenin', Mis' Brice. De good Lawd bless you, lady,
an' Miste' Brice," said the old negress.
"Well, Nancy?"
Nancy pressed into the room. " Mis' Brice ! w
" Yes ? "
" Ain' you gwineter 'low Hester an* me to wuk f o' you ? ??
"Indeed I should be glad to, Nancy. But we are
boarding."
" Yassm, yassm," said Nancy, and relapsed into awk-
ward silence. Then again, " Mis' Brice ! "
"Yes, Nancy?"
" Ef you 'lows us t' come heah an' straighten out you'
close, an' mend 'em — you dunno how happy you mek me
an' Hester — des to do dat much, Mis' Brice."
The note of appeal was irresistible. Mrs. Brice iK)se
and unlocked the trunks.
" You may unpack them, Nancy," she said.
With what alacrity did the old woman take off her
Hack bonnet and shawl ! " Whaff or you stannin' dere,
Hester ? " she cried.
" Hester is tired," said Mrs. Brice, compassionately, and
tears came to her eyes again at the thought of what they
ihad both been through that day.
" Tired ! " said Nancy, holding up her hands. " No'm,
58 THE CEISIS
she am' tired. She des kinder stupefied by yous goodness.
Mis' Brice."
A scene was saved by the appearance of Miss Craned
hired girl.
" Mr. and Mrs. Cluynie, in the parlor, mum," she said.
If Mr. Jacob Cluyme sniffed a little as he was ushered
into Miss Crane's best parlor, it was perhaps because of
the stuffy dampness of that room. Mr. Cluyme was one
of those persons the effusiveness of whose greeting does
not tally with the limpness of their grasp. He was
attempting, when Stephen appeared, to get a little heat
into his hands by rubbing them, as a man who kindles a
stick of wood for a visitor. The gentleman had red chop-
whiskers, — to continue to put his worst side 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. Brice.
" My dear sir," said Mr. Cluyme, " I used often to go
to Boston in the forties. In fact — ahem — I may claim
to be a New Englander. Alas, no, I never met your father,
But when I heard of the sad circumstances of his death,
I felt as if I had lost a personal friend. His probity, sir,
and his religious principles were an honor to the Athens
of America. I have listened to my friend, Mr. Atterbury,
— Mr. Samuel Atterbury, — eulogize him by the hour."
Stephen was surprised.
" Why, yes," said he, "Mr. Atterbury was a friend."
" Of course," said Mr. Cluyme, " I knew it. Four
years ago, the last business trip I made to Boston, I met
Atterbury on the street. Absence makes no difference to
some men, sir, nor the West, for that matter. They never
change. Atterbury nearly took me in his arms. ' My
dear fellow,' he cried, k how long are you to be in town .
I was going the next day. ' Sorry I can't ask you to
dinner,' says he, 'but step into the Tremont House and
have a bite.' — Wasn't that like Atterbury ? "
Stephen thought it was. But Mr. Cluyme was evi-
dently expecting no answer.
" Well," said he, " what I was going to say was that we
CALLEES m
heard you were in town \ 8 Friends of Samuel Atterbury,
my dear,' I said to my wife. We are neighbors, Mr,
Brice. You must know the girls. You must come to
supper. We live very plainly, sir, very simply 0 I am
afraid that you will miss the luxury of the East, and some
of the refinement, Stephen. I hope I may call you so, my
boy. We have a few cultured citizens, Stephen, but all
are not so. I miss the atmosphere, I seemed to live again
when I got to Boston. But business, sir, — the making of
money is a sordid occupation. You will come to supper?"
"I scarcely think that my mother will go out," said
Stephen,
" Oh, be friends ! It will cheer her. Not a dinner-
party, my boy, only a plain, comfortable meal, with plenty
to eat. Of course she will. Of course she will. Not a
Boston social function, you understand. Boston, Stephen,
I have always looked upon as the centre of the universe.
Our universe, I mean, America for Americans is a motto
of mine. Oh, no," he added quickly, "I don't mean a
Know Nothing. Religious freedom, my boy, is part of our
great Constitution, By the way, Stephen — Atterbury
always had such a respect for your father's opinions — w
"My father was not an Abolitionist, sir," said Stephen,
smiling.
" Quite right, quite right," said Mr. Ciuyme,
" But I am not sure, since I have come here, that I have
not some sympathy and respect for the Abolitionists."
Mr. Cluyme gave a perceptible start. He glanced at
the heavy hangings on the windows and then out of the
open door into the hall. For a space his wife's chatter to
Mrs. Brice, on Boston fashions, filled the room.
"My dear Stephen," said the gentleman, dropping his
voice, " that is all very well in Boston. But take a little
advice from one who is old enough to counsel you. You
are young, and you must learn to temper yourself to the
tone of the place which you have made your home. St,
Louis is full of excellent people, but they are not precisely
Abolitionists. We are gathering, it is true, a small party
who are for gradual emancipation. But our New Eng
GO THE OEISIS
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
not 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
have been in the Senate, or on the Supreme Bench, had
he not stirred up so much hatred. And yet I can't help
liking Whippl ... 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 ! " 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, whose 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
CALLEES 6i
walked hither from his house he seemed to foresee a help-
less little woman who, once he had called, would fling hez
Boston pride to the winds and dump her woes upon him=
He looked again, and decidedly approved of Mrs. Brice9
and was unaware that his glance embarrassed her,
" Mr. Whipple," she said, " do ycu know Mr. and Mrs.
Cluyme ? "
The Judge looked behind him abruptly, nodded fero-
ciously at Mr. Cluyme, and took the hand that fluttered
out to him from Mrs. Cluyme.
" Know the Judge ! " exclaimed 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. Belie will surpass herself."
" Umph ! " 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 still greatly flustered, and curiosity about the
matter of the slave burned upon her face. Neither the
Judge nor Mrs. Brice were people one could catechise.
Stephen, scanning the Judge, was wondering how far he
regarded the matter as a joke.
" Well, madam," said Mr. Whipple, as he seated himself
on the other end of the horsehair sofa, " I'll warrant when
you left Boston that you did not expect to own a slave
the day after you arrived in St. Louis."
" But I do not own her," said Mrs. Briceo " It is my
son who owns her."
This was too much for Mr. Cluyme.
" What ! " he cried to Stephen. " You own a slave ?
You, a mere boy, have bought a negress ? "
u And what is more, sir, I approve of it," the Judge put
in, severely. " I am going to take the young man into my
office."
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,
Cluyme was elastic.
62 THE CRISIS
" Pardon me, Judge,** said lie, " but I trust that I may
be allowed to congratulate you upon the abandonment of
principles which I have considered a clog to your career0
They did you honor, sir, but they were Quixotic. I, sir,
am for saving our glorious Union at any cost. And we
have no right to deprive our brethren of their property — »
. }f their very means of livelihood."
The Judge grinned diabolically. Mrs. Cluyme was as
7yet too stunned to speak, Only Stephen's mother sniffed
gunpowder in the air.
" This, Mr. Cluyme," said the Judge, mildly, " is an ag©
of shifting winds. It was not long ago," he added reflec-
tivety, "when you and I met in the Planters' House, and
you declared that every drop of Northern blood spilled in
Kansas was in a holy cause. Do you remember it, sir ? n
Mr. Cluyme and Mr. Cluyme's wife alone knew whether
he trembled.
" And I repeat that, sir," he cried, with far too much
zeal. " I repeat it here and now. And yet I was for the
Omnibus Bill, and I am with Mr. Douglas in his local
sovereignty. I am willing to bur}r my abhorrence of a
relic of barbarism, for the sake of union and peace."
"Well, sir, I am not," retorted the Judge, like light-
ning. He rubbed the red spot on his nose, and pointed
a bony finger at Mr. Cluyme. Many a criminal had
grovelled before that finger. " I, too, am for the Union
And the Union will never be safe until the greatest crime
of modern times is wiped out in blood. Mind what I say.,
Mr. Cluyme, in blood, sir," he thundered.
Poor Mrs. Cliryme gasped.
"But the slave, sir? Did I not understand you tc
approve of Mr. Briee's ownership ? "
" As I never approved of any other. Good night, sir.
Good night, madam." But to Mrs. Brice he crossed over
and took her hand. It has been further claimed that he
bowed. This is not certain.
" Good nights madam," he said* u I shall call again t$
pay my respects when ycu are not occupied.1'
CHAPTER VIII
BELLEGARDE
Miss Virginia Carvel came down the steps in her rid-
ing-habit. And Ned, who had been waiting in the street
with the horses, obsequiously held his hand while his
young mistress leaped into Vixen's saddle. Leaving the
clarkey to follow upon black Calhoun, she cantered orf up
the street, greatly to the admiration of the neighbors,
They threw open their windows to wave at her, but Vir-
ginia pressed her lips and stared straight ahead. She was
going out to see the Russell girls at their father's country
place on Bellefontaine Road, especially to proclaim her
detestation for a certain young Yankee upstart. She had
unbosomed herself to Anne Brinsmade and timid Eugenie
Renault the day before.
It was Indian summer, the gold and purple season of
the year. Frost had come and gone. Wasps were buzz-
ing confusedly about the eaves again, marvelling at the
balmy air, and the two Misses Russell, Puss and Emily,
were seated within the wide doorway at needlework when
Virginia dismounted at the horseblock.
** Oh, Jinny, I'm so glad to see you," said Miss RusselL
" Here's Elise Saint Simon from New Orleans. You must
3tay all day and to-night." .
"I can't, Puss," said Virginia, submitting impatiently
to Miss Russell's warm embrace. She was disappointed
at finding the stranger, " I only came — to say that I
am going to have a birthday party in a few weeks. You
must be sure to come, and bring your guest."
Virginia took her bridle from Ned, and Miss Russell's
hospitable face fell.
51 You're not going ? n she said.
64 THE CRISIS
" To Bellegarde for dinner," answered Virginia.
" But it's only ten o'clock," said Puss. " And, Jinny ? w
"Yes."
" 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 ! " said Virginia. " He's a Yankee."
44 How do you know ? " demanded Puss and Emily m
chorus.
" And he's no gentleman," said Virginia.
M But how do you know, Jinny ? "
" He's an upstart."
44 Oh. But he belongs to a very good Boston family,
they say."
44 There are no good Boston families," replied Virginia,
with conviction, as she separated her reins. 44 He has
proved that. Who ever heard of a good Yankee family ? "
44 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.
44 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."
44 How could he help it ? " said Puss, slyly.
Virginia took no notice of the remark.
, 44 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?"
44 He bought her himself ! " cried the astonished Miss
Russell. 44Why, I thought that all Bostonians were
Abolitionists."
rELLEGAEDE $&
"Then he set lier free," said Miss Carvel5 contempts
snsljo " Judge Whipple went on her bond to-day."
* Oh, I'm just crazy to see him now," said Miss Russell
"Ask him to your party, Virginia," she added mis=
chievously.
"Do you think I would have him in my house ? " criec
Virginia.
Miss Russell was likewise courageous — * u I don't see
why not. You have Judge Whipple every Sunday tc
dinner, and he's an Abolitionist."
Virginia drew herself up.
" Judge Whipple has never insulted me," she said, with
dignity.
Puss gave way to laughter. Whereupon, despite her
protests and prayers for forgiveness, Virginia took to her
mare again and galloped off. They saw her turn north-
ward on the Bellefontaine Road.
Presently the woodland hid from her sight the noble
river shining far below, and Virginia pulled Vixen
between the gateposts which marked the entrance to her
aunt's place, Bellegarde. Half a mile through the cool
forest, the black dirt of the driveway flying from Vixen's
hoofs, and there was the Colfax house on the edge of the
gentle slope ; and be}rond it the orchard, and the blue
grapes withering on the vines, — and beyond that fields
and fields of yellow stubbie. The silver smoke of a steam-
boat hung in wisps above the water. A young negro was
busily washing the broad veranda, but he stopped and
straightened at sight of the young horsewoman.
" Sambo, where's your mistress ? "
" Clar t' goodness, Miss Jinny, she was heah leetli
while ago."
" Yo' git atter Miss Lilly, yo? good-f o'-nuthin' niggah,"
said Ned, warmly. "Ain't yo' be'n raised better'n to
etan' theh wif yo' mouf open ? "
Sambo was taking the hint, when Miss Virginia called
him back.
" Where's Mr. Clarence ? "
" Young Masr ? I'll f otch him, Miss Jinny. He jes?
m 1HE CRISIS
some borne f um seem' that thar trottin9 hos§ he § gwmt
to race nex' week."
Ned , who had tied Calhoun and was holding his mis-
tress's bridle, sniffed. He had been Colonel Carvel's
Jockey in his younger days.
M Shucks ! n he said contemptuously. " I hoped to die
jefo? the day a gemman'd own er trottah, Jinny, On'j
runnin' bosses is fit fo' gemmen,'*
"Ned," said Virginia5 "I shall be eighteen in two
weeks and a young lady. On that day you must call me
6 Miss Jinny.*"
Ned's face showed both astonishment and inquiry.,
" Jinny, ain't I missed you always ? Ain't I come up
stairs to quiet you when yo' mammy ain't had no powe*
ovah yo' ? Ain't I cooked fo' yo', and ain't I followed
you everywheres since I quit ridin' yo' pa's hosses to vie
fry ? Ain't I one of de fambly ? An' yit yo' ax me to
call yo* Miss Jinny ? "
"Then you've had privileges enough," Virginia an
gwered, "One week from to-morrow you are to say
'Miss Jinnvo' "
" I'se tell you what, Jinny," he answered mischievously ,
with an emphasis on the word, "I'se call you Miss
Jinny ef you'll call me Mistah Johnson. Mistah Johnson*
You aint gwinter forget ? Mistah Johnson"
"I'll remember," she said. "Ned," she demanded sud
denly, " would you like to be free ? "
The 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 here to meddle with what doesn't con=
cern him. I wanted Hester, Ned. And you should have
married her, if you behaved yourself,"
Ned laughed uneasily,
"I reckon I'se too oV fo? HesteV And added with
privileged impudence, " There ain't no cause why I can'*
marry her now/*
3ELLEGARDB 67
"Virginia suddenly leaped to the ground without his
assistance,
" That's enough, Ned," she said, and started toward the
house.
il Jinny ! Miss Jinny ! " The call was plaintive*
"Well, what?"
"Miss Jinny, I seed that thar young gemman, Lan7
sakes, he ainv look like er Yankee — "
"Ned," said Virginia, sternly 3 "do you want to g&
back to cooking ? "
He quailed. " Oh, no'm. Lan5 sakes, no?m. I didn'i
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
same being Maxwell. " But you have no right to do
that."
" To do what ? " said Clarence, making a face.
" You know," answered 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 donJt
choose."
" Are you angry with me still ? It wasn5t 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 mornings Max," said
Virginia.
" Only a julep or so," he replied apologetically 0 " I
rode over 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
iaeavy with the perfume of the grapes and the smell oi
(88 THE CHISIS
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 muchc"
" And J haven't been, Jinny, 'pon my word," he replied,
u 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 nothingo Then she said,
without changing her position s —
"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 jesto"
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 settl®
down to something ? Why don't you work ? "
Young Mr, Colfax's arm swept around in a sireie
BELLEGAKDE 6S
* There are twelve hundred acres to look after here5 and
% 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 saidu " I can go to New
Orleans to-morrow to join Walker's Nicaragua expedition ■
We've 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 ruffians 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.'5
" 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 yon would
only work at something. That is why the Yankees beat
TO THE CRISIS
ns. If you would learn to weld iron, or to build bridges,
or railroads, Or if you would learn business, and go tc
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 wish
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 ! "
BELLEGAKDE 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 ! "
Again she avoided him by leaping the low railingo
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
Haley ondale. 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 Belief ontaine
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 play9
naif 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 auntc
"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 you ridec Your Pa doesn't look afteff
n THE CRISIS
you properly, I would ask you to stay to the dance
to-night if your skin were only white, instead of redo
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't you make him go to work ? n
" 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
Lis side.
" What put that into your head, Jinny," she saido " 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.
" Y ou believe that women were made to look at, and to
p]ay 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 tight, and we know how to conv
BELLEGAKDE 7S
mande But we have been ruined by — ,? here she glanced
at the retreating form of Alfred, and lowered her voice,
"by niggers."
Mrs. Colfax's gaze rested languidly on her niece's face$
which glowed with indignation.
" You get this terrible habit of argument from Comyn,5'
she said. " He ought to send you to boarding-schooL
How mean of Mr. Vance not to come ! You've been talk-
ing with that old reprobate Whipple. Why does Comyn
put up with him ? "
u He isn't an old reprobate/' said Virginia, warmly.
"You really ought to go to school," said her auntc
"Don't be eccentric. It isn't fashionable. I suppose
you wish Clarence to go into a factory."
"If I were a man," said Virginia, "and going into a
factory would teach me how to make a locomotive or a
cotton press, or to build a bridge, I should go into a fac-
tory. We shall never beat the Yankees until we meet
them on their own ground."
" There is Mr. Vance now," said Mrs* Colfax, and addec
fervently, " Thank the Lord 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 Colonel 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
for 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 9 Certain tastes which she had inherited
bad hitherto provided her with pleasurable sensations
A QUIET £!JNTDAY IN LOCUST STEEET 7&
while these battles were in progress, More than onca
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 limb of the unfortunate Franklin Pierce, by
Judge Whipple.,
44 What a miserable exhibition in the eyes of the world,*'
said the Judge. " Franklin Pierce of New Hampshire "
(he pronounced this name with infinite 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
I hear that you are to give him a plantation as a re-
ward."
" No such thing, sir."
44 He deserves it," continued the Judge, with convic=
tion. M See the magnificent forts he permitted Davis to
build 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 ! That is the greatest crime, and Douglas and Pierce
the greatest criminals, of the century."
44 Do have some more of that fried chicken, Judge,"
said Virginia,
Mr. Whipple helped himself fiercely, and the Colonel
smiled.
44 You should be satisfied now," said he. 44 Another
Northern man is in the White House."
44 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, 44 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
ffi THE CRISIS
Ms Cabinet to support the ruffians 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 he 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.
M 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, — you would 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 the 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 as
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 f|
"Sir," said the Judge, "I can point out negroes of
intelligence and learning."
" And I reckon you could teach some monkeys to talk
English, 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
iaa 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.
" Your prejudice is hide-bound, sir," said Mr. Whippieo
44 No, Whipple," said the Colonel, 44 when God washed
off this wicked earth, and started new, He saw fit to put
the sons of Ham in subjection. They're slaves of each
other in 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.
44 A divine institution ! " he shouted. 4t A black curse I
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.
44 Now, see here, Whipple," said he. 44If 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 slavery0
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."
44 If it had not been for Virginia and Maryland and the
South, this nation would not be in existence."
m THE CRISIS
The Colonel laughed.
"First rate, Jinny," he cried. " That?s so.?9
But the Judge was in a revery. He probably had no$
heard her.
"The nation is going to the dogs," he said, mumbling
rather to himself than to the others. " We shall never
prosper until the curse is shaken off, or wiped out in bloodc
It clogs our progress. Our merchant marine, of which
we were so proud, has been annihilated by these continued
disturbances. 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 joke. Where's your leader ?"
" In Illinois," was the quick response.
44 What's his name ? "
"Abraham Lincoln, sir," thundered Mr. Whipple.
66 And to my way of thinking he has uttered a more sig-
nificant phrase on the situation than any of your Wash-
ington statesmen. 4 This government,' said he to a friend
of mine, ' cannot exist half slave and half free.' "
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 oracle. He
recovered instantly.
" He's a demagogue, seeking for striking phrases, sir.
You're too intelligent a man to be taken in by such as he."
" I tell you he is not, sir."
44 1 know him, sir," cried the Colonel, taking down his
feet. 44 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 anything he said," replied the Judge.
34 Poor white trash9 sir I The greatest men rise from ths
A QUIET SUNDAY IN" LOCUST STREET f|
people* A demagogue ! " Mr. Whipple fairly shook with
rage, " The nation doesn't know him yet. But mark
my words, the day will come when it will. He was bal-
lotted for Vice-President in the Philadelphia convention
last year. Nobody paid any attention to that. If the con*
Mention had heard him speak at Bloomington, he would
have been nominated instead of Fremont. If the nation
could have heard him, he would be President to-day instead
of that miserable Buchanan. I happened to be at Bloom-
ington. And while the idiots on the platform were drivel-
ling, the people kept calling for Lincoln. I had never
heard of him then. I've never forgot him since. He
came ambling out of the back of the hall, a lanky, gawky=
looking man, ridiculously ugly, sir. But the moment he
opened his mouth he had us spellbound. The language
which your low-down lawyer used was that of a God-sent
prophet, sir. He had those Illinois bumpkins all worked
up, — the women crying, and some of the men, too. And
mad I Good Lord, they were mad — 4 We will say to the
Southern disunionists,' he cried, — 4 we will say to the
Southern disunionists, we won't go out of the Union,
and you shan't J "
There was a silence when the Judge finished. But pres=>
ently Mr. Carvel took a match. And he stood over the
Judge in his favorite attitude, — with his feet apart, — as
he lighted another cigar.
"I reckon we're going to have war, Silas," said hev
slowly; " but don't you think that your Mr. Lincoln scares
me into that belief. I don't count his bluster worth a
cent. No sirree ! It's this youngster who comes out here
from Boston and buys a nigger with all the money he's
got in the world. And if he's an impetuous young fool-
I'm no judge of men."
" Appleton Brice wasn't precisely impetuous," remarked
Mr. Whipple. And he smiled a little bitterly, as though
the word had stirred a memory,
"I like that young fellow," Mr. Carvel continued. "It
seems to be a kind of fatality with me to get along with
Yankees, I reckon there's a screw loose somewhere, hm
m THE CRISIS
Brice acted the man all the way throughc He got a fall
out of you, Silas, in your room, after the show0 Where 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 saide " Good-by, Uncle
Silas."
She had called him so from childhood. Hers was the
one voice that seemed to soften him — it never failedo 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 yen, Uncle Silas," said the girl, with dignity,
a 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 went 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 Eugenia
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 a
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
into the sitting-room fire. There was no other light in
the roomo Her chin was in her hand, and her lips were
Ipursedc
A QUIET SUNDAY IN LOCUST STKEET 82
u Heigho ! " said the Colonel, ** what*s the trouble
how ? "
u Nothing," said Virginia,
" Come," he insisted, " what have they been doing to
my girl ? "
"Pal"
" Yes, honey."
" I don't want to go to balls all my life, I want to go
to boarding-school, and learn something. Emily is going
to Monticello after Christmas. Pa, will you let me ? "
Mr. Carvel winced. He put an arm around her He
thought of his lonely widowerhood, of her whose place-
Virginia had taken.
" And what shall I do ? w he said, trying to smile.
"It will only be for a little while* And Monticello
isn?t very far, Pa."
"Well, well, there is plenty of tim?, to think it over
between now and January," he said. b< And now I have
a little favor to ask of you, honey."
"Yes?" she said.
The Colonel took the other armchair, stretched his feet^
toward the blaze, and stroked his goatee. He glanced
covertly at his daughter's profile. Twice he cleared his
throat.
"Jinny?"
" Yes, Pa " (without taming her head)0
"Jinny, I was going to speak of this young Brice0
He's a stranger here, and he comes of a good family, and
— and I like him."
" And you wish me to invite him to my party," finished
Virginia.
The Colonel started,, " I reckon you guessed it," he said,
Virginia remained immovable. She did not answer at
once0 Then she said : = —
"Do you think, in bidding against me, that he behaved
like a gentleman ? "
The Colonel blundered*
"Lord, Virginia," he said, "I thought you told th®
Judge this afternoon that it was done out of principle. JS>
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.
" $o 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
soat.
" By Gum ! " he said. " Women beat me."
CHAPTER X
TEE LITTLE HOUSE
When Stephen attempted to thank Judge Whipple for
going on Hester's bond, he merely said, " Tut, tutu "
The Judge rose at six, so his man Shadrach told Stephen.
He had his breakfast at the Planters5 House at seven, read
the Missouri Democrat, and returned by eight. Sometimes
he would say good morning to Stephen and Richter, and
sometimes he would not. Mr. Whipple was out a great
part of the day, and he had many visitors. He was a very
busy man. Like a great specialist (which he was), he
would see only one person at a time. And Stephen'soon
discovered that his employer did not discriminate between
age or sex, or importance, or condition of servitude. In
short, Stephen's opinion of Judge Whipple altered very
materially before the end of that first week. He saw poor
women and disconsolate men go into the private room
ahead of rich citizens, who seemed content to wait their
turn on the hard wooden chairs against the wall of the
main office. There was one incident in particular, when
a well-dressed gentleman of middle age paced impatiently
for two mortal hours after Shadrach had taken his card
into the sanctum. When at last he had been admitted, Mrc
Richter whispered to Stephen his name. It was that of a
big railroad man from the Eastc The transom let out the
true state of affairs.
" See here, Callender," the Judge was heard to say, "you
fellows don't like me, and you wouldn't come here unless
you had to. But when your road gets in a tight places
you turn up and expect to walk in ahead of my friends.
No, sir, if you want to see me, you've got to wait."
Mr, Callender made some inaudible reply.-
84 THE CRISIS
"Money!" 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 6rown meerschaum,
and read the St. Louis Anzeiger and the Westliche Post,
Often he sang quietly to himself : —
" Deutschlands Scshne
Laut ertone
Euer Vaterlandgesang.
Vaterland ! Du Land des Ruhmes,
Weih' zu deines Heiligthumes
Hiitern, uns und unser Schwert."
There were other songs, too, And 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 would
scold and scold. But one day I see that his heart is warm,
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 85
room to give Mr. Richter a welcome that any man might
have envied. He was introduced to Stephen.
"We were all Streber together, in Germany," said
Richter.
" You were all what ? " asked Stephen, interested.
" Strivers, you might call it in English. In the Voter-
land those who seek for higher and better things — for
liberty, and to be rid of oppression— are so called, That
is why we fought in '48 and lost. And that is why we
came here, to the Republic. Ach! I fear I will never be
the great lawyer — but the striver, yes, always. We must
fight once more to be rid of the black monster that sucks
the blood of freedom — vampirec Is it not so in English ? "
Stephen was astonished at this outburst.
" You think it will come to war ? "
" I fear, — yes, I fear,'5 said the German, shaking his
head. "We fear. We are already preparing."
" Preparing ? You would fight, Richter ? You, a for-
eigner?"
" A foreigner ! " cried Richter, with a flash of anger in
his blue eyes that died as suddenly as it came, — died into
reproach. " Call me not a foreigner — we Germans will
show whether or not we are foreigners when the time is
ripe. This great country belongs to all the oppressed.
Your ancestors founded it, and fought for it, that the
descendants of mine might find a haven from tyranny.
My friend, one-half of this city is German, and it is they
who will save it if danger arises. You must come with
me one night to South St. Louis, that you may know us,
Then you will perhaps understand, Stephen. You will
not think of us as foreign swill, but as patriots who
love our new Valeriana1 even as you love it. You must
come to our Turner Halls, where we are drilling against
the time when the Union shall have need of us."
" You are drilling now ? " exclaimed Stephen, in still
greater astonishment, The German's eloquence had made
him tingle, even as had the songs.
" JProsit deine Blume ! " answered Richter, smiling and
holding up his glass of beer. " You will come to a com
36 THE CEISIS
merce, and see. This is not our blessed Lichtenhainer, thafc
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 ! 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 pleadings ? " he cried.
"First," said Stephen, "was the Declaration. The
answer to that was the Plea. The answer to that was
the Replication. Then came the Rejoinder, then the Sur-
rejoinder, then the Rebutter, then the Surrebutter. But
they 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 %
His mother, knitting before the fire in her own 3roonit
greeted him with her usual quiet smile of welcome. He
tried to give her a humorous account of his catechism o!
the morning, but failed,
"lam quite sure that he doesn't like me," said Stephens
His mother continued to smile.
44 If he did, he would not show it," she answered,
"1 can feel it," said Stephen, dejectedly.
" The Judge was here this 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/5
she added more earnestly, "I am not sure but what he
is 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 seems. 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 work9
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.'*
Sunday dawned brightly* After church Mrs. Brice
and Stephen walked down Olive Street, and stood looking
m THE CEISIS
at a tiny house wedged in between two large ones with
scrolled fronts. Sad memories of Beacon Street rilled
them both as they gazed, but they 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-
pulously dressed in the old fashion, in swallowtail coat
and black stock, Benevolence was in the generous mouth,
in the large nose that looked like Washington's, and benev-
olence fairly sparkled in the blue eyes. He smiled at
them 0 * though he had known them always, and the world
seemed : lighter that very instant. They smiled in return,
whereupon the gentleman lifted his hat. And the kindli-
ness and the courtliness of that bow made them very happy,
" 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-
;ng the key from her. " I fear that you will find it incom
venient and incommodious, ma'am. I should be fortunate,
indeed, to get a good tenant."
He fitted the key in the door, while Stephen and his
mother smiled at each other at the thought of the rent.
The 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, which 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 i 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 family treasures that were to come over the
xnountainso
THE LITTLE HOUSE 89
The gentleman, with infinite tact, said little, but led
the way through the rooms. There were not many of
fchem. At the door of the kitchen he stopped, and laid
his hand kindly on Stephen's shoulder ; ~^-
" Here we may not enter. This is your department^
ma'am," said he.
Finally, as they stood without waiting for the gentle-'
man, who insisted upon locking the door, they observed a
girl in a ragged shawl hurrying up the street, As she
approached them, her eyes were fixed upon the large
house next door. But suddenly, as the gentleman turned,
she caught sight of him, and from her lips escaped a cry
of relief. She flung open the gate, and stood before him,
" Oh, Mr. Brinsmade," she cried, " mother is dying.
You have done so much for us, sir, — couldn't you come
to her for a little while ? She thought if she might see
you once more, she would die happy ." The voice was
choked by a sob.
Mr. Brinsmade took the girl's hand in his own, and
turned to the lady with as little haste, with as much polite=
ness, as he had shown before.
" You will excuse me, ma'am," he said, with his hat in
his hand.
The widow had no words to answer him, But she
and her son watched him as he walked rapidly down the
street, his arm in the girl's, until they were out of sight.
And then they walked home silently c
Might not the price of this little house be likewise a
piece of the Brinsmade charity ?
CHAPTER XI
THE INVITATION
MEc Elifhalet Hoppeb, in bis Sunday-best broadcloth
was a marvel of propriety. It seemed to Stephen that his
face wore a graver expression on Sunday 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 what the Judge had said to his mother, and
nodded. Why, indeed, should he put on airs 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 would have
puzzled Mr. Hopper's tailor more.
"Very well, thanks."
"A fine day after the rain."
Stephen nodded, and Mr. Hopper entered the house
after him.
"Be you asked to Virginia Carvel's party?" he asked
abruptly.
1 " I do not know Miss Carvel," said Stephen, wondering
how well the other did, And if the truth be told, he was
a little annoyed at Mr. Hopper's free use of her name.
"That shouldn't make no difference," said Eliphaletc,
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 ?most
forgot,' said he. "I callate you're not any too well
m
THE INVITATION 91
recommended. I 'most forgot that little transaction down
to the Court House. They do say that she wanted thai;
gai almighty bad, — she was most awful cut up not to get
her. Served her right, though. Tm glad you did. Show
her she can't have everything her own way. And say,"
he added, with laughter, " how you did fix that there stuck-
up Colfax boy ! He'll never forgive you no more than
she. But," said Mr. Hopper, meditatively, "it was a
durned-fool trick."
I think Stephen's critics will admit that he had a good
right to be angry, and that they will admire him just a
little bit because he kept his temper. But Mr» Hopper
evidently thought he had gone too far.
" She ain't got no use for me, neither," he said.
" She shows poor judgment," answered Stephen.
" She's not long sighted, that's sure," replied Eliphalet,
with emphasis.
At dinner Stephen was tried still further. And it wag
then he made the determination to write for the news=
papers in order to pay the rent on Mr. Brinsmade's house,
Miss Carvel's coming-out party was the chief topic.
"They do say the Colonel is to spend a sight of money
on that ball," said Mrs. Abner Reed. " I guess it won't
bankrupt him." And she looked hard at Mr. Hopper.
"I callate he ain't pushed for money," that gentleman
vouchsafed.
" He's a good man, and done well by you, Mr. Hopper,"
" So-so," answered Eliphalet. " But I will say that I
done something for the Colonel. I've saved him a hundred
times my pay since I showed old Hood the leaks. And I
got a thousand dollar order from Wright & Company
this week for him."
"I dare say you'd keep a tight hand enough on ex-
penses," said Miss Crane, half in sarcasm, half in
approval.
" If Colonel Carvel was doin' business in New Eng=
land," said Eliphalet, "he'd been bankrupt long ago/'
"That young Clarence Colfax," Mrs. Abner Reed broks
in, " he'll get a right smart mint o' money when he maz
98 THE CRISIS
Ties Virginia, They do say her mother left her indepeii
dent, How now, Mr. Hopper ? "
Eliphalet looked mysterious and knowing, He did
3iot reply,
"And young Colfax ain't precisely a pauper/' said
Miss Crane.
"I'll risk a good deal that she don't marry Colfax, n,
said Mr, Hopper,
64 What on earth do you mean ? n cried Mrs. Abnerc
"It ain't broke off?"
64 No," he answered, '* it ain't broke off. But I callate
she won't have him when the time comes. She's got too
much sense,"
Heavy at heart, Stephen climbed the stairs, thanking
heaven that he had not been drawn into the controversy.
A partial comprehension of Mr. Hopper was dawning upon
Hm He suspected that gentleman of an aggressive
determination to achieve wealth, and the power which
goes with it, for the purpose of using that power upon
those beneath him. Nay, when he thought over his con-
versation, he suspected him of more, — of the intention to
marry Virginia Carvel.
It will be seen whether Stephen was right or wrong.
He took a walk that afternoon, as far out as a place
called Lindell's Grove, which afterward became historic.
And when he returned to the house, his mother handed him
a little white envelope.
" It came while you were out," she said,
He turned it over, and stared at his name written across
the front in a feminine hand. In those days young ladies
did not write in the bold and masculine manner now
4eemed proper. Stephen stared at the note, manlike, and
pondered,
st Who brought it, mother ? "
"Why don't you open it, and see ?" asked his mother-;
with a smile,
He took the suggestion, What a funny, formal little
note we should think it now I It was not funny to
Stephen — then. He read it, and he read it again, and
THE INVITATION 93
finally lie walked over to the window, still holding it in
his hand.
Some mothers would have shown their curiosity. Mrs.
Brice did not, wherein she proved herself their superiors
in the knowledge of mankind.
Stephen stood for a long while looking out into the
gathering dusk. Then he went over to the fireplace and
began tearing the note into little bits. Only once did he
pause, to look again at his name on the envelope.
" It is an invitation to Miss Carvel's party," he said.
By Thursday of that week the Brices, with thanksgiv-
ing in their hearts, had taken possession of Mr. Brins-
made's little house.
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
countryside, and a pillared white house among the oaks.
He was riding again with Beatrice Colfax in the spring-
time. 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
94
«miss jnranr* 95
burial of the dead. It was Ned who had met his master,
the Colonel, at the levee, and had fallen sobbing at his
feet.
Long after he was shaved that morning, the Colonel sat
rapt in his chair, while the faithful servant busied him-
self about the room, one eye on his master the while.
But presently Mr. Carvel's revery is broken by the swift
rustle of a dress, and a girlish figure flutters in and plants
itself on the wide arm of his mahogany barber chair,
Mammy Easter in the door behind her. And the Colo-
nel, stretching forth his hands, strains her to him, and
then holds her away that he may look and look again
into her face.
" Honey," he said, " I was thinking of your mother."
Virginia raised her eyes to the painting on the wall
over the marble mantel. The face under the heavy coils
of brown hair was sweet and gentle, delicately feminine.
It had an expression of sorrow that seemed a prophecy,
The Colonel's hand strayed upward to Virginia's head.
"You are not like her, honey," he said, "You may
see for yourself. You are more like your Aunt Bess,
who lived in Baltimore, and she — "
" I know," said Virginia, " she was the image of the
beauty, Dorothy Manners, who married my great-grand-
father."
" Yes, Jinny," replied the Colonel, smiling. " That is
so. You are somewhat like your great-grandmother."
" Somewhat ! " cried Virginia, putting her hand over
his mouth, " I like that. You and Captain Lige are
always afraid of turning my head. I need not be a
beauty to resemble her. I know that I am like her. When
you took me on to Calvert House to see Uncle Daniel
that time, I remember the picture by, by — "
"Sir Joshua Reynolds,"
" Yes, Sir Joshua."
44 You were only eleven," says the ColoneL
*■» She is not a difficult person to remember. N
"No," said Mrt Carvel, laughing, "especially if yoB
liave lived with her,"
96 THE CRISIS
u 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
i 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, anT
shuffiin' 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 ! " 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.
"MISS JINNY" 97
" How come she recommembered, Marse Comyn? Dat's
de quality. Dat's why. Doan't you talk to Ned 'bout
de quality, Marsa."
" And when did I ever talk to you about the quality,
you scalawag ? " asks the Colonel, laughing.
" Th' ain't none 'cept de bes' quality keep they word
dat-a-way," said Ned, as he went off to tell Uncle Ben in
the kitchen.
Was there ever, in all this wide country, a good cook
who was not a tyrant ? Uncle Ben Carvel was a veritable
emperor in his own domain ; and the Colonel himself, had
he desired to enter the kitchen, would have been obliged
to come with humble and submissive spirit. As for Vir-
ginia, she had had since childhood more than one passage
at arms with Uncle Ben. And the question of who had
come off victorious had been the subject of many a debate
below stairs.
There were a few days in the year, however, when
Uncle Ben permitted the sanctity of his territory to be
violated. One was the seventh of December. On such a
day it was his habit to retire to the broken chair beside the
sink (the chair to which he had clung for five-and -twenty
years). There he would sit, blinking, and carrying on
the while an undercurrent of protests and rumblings,
while Miss Virginia and other young ladies mixed and
chopped and boiled and baked and gossiped. But
woe to the unfortunate Rosetta if she overstepped the
bounds of respect ! Woe to Ned or Jackson or Tato, if
they came an inch over the threshold from the hall
beyond ! Even Aunt Easter stepped gingerly, though she
was wont to affirm, when assisting Miss Jinny in her toilet,
an absolute contempt for Ben's commands.
" So Ben ordered you out, Mammy ? " Virginia would
say mischievously.
" Order me out ! Hugh ! think I'se skeered o' him,
honey ? Reckon I'd frail 'em good ef he cotched hole of
me with his black hands. Jes' let him try to come up-
stairs once, honey, an' see what I say to 'm."
Nevertheless Ben had, on one never-to-be-forgotten
98 THE CEISIS
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 for 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 cargo 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 day" 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
"MISS JIMYW 99
a call," said the steamboat captain, jerking his thumb up
at the house. It was Mr. Jacob Cluyme's.
Captain Grant did not reply to that, nor did Captain
Lige expect him to, as it was the custom of this strange
and silent man to speak ill of no one. He turned rather
to put the stakes back into his wagon.
u Where are you off to, Lige ? " he asked.
"Lord bless my soul," said Captain Lige, "to think
that I could forget I " He tucked a bundle tighter under
his arm. " Grant, did you ever see my little sweetheart,
Jinny Carvel ? " The Captain sighed. " She ain't little
any more, and she eighteen to-day."
Captain Grant clapped his hand to his forehead.
" Say, Lige," said he, " that reminds me. A month or
so ago I pulled a fellow out of Renault's area across from
there. First I thought he was a thief. After he got
away I saw the Colonel and his daughter in the win-
dow — "
Instantly Captain Lige became excited, and seized
Captain Grant by the cape of his overcoat.
" Say, Grant, what kind of appearing fellow was he ? "
"Short, thick-set, blocky face."
" I reckon I know," said Brent, bringing down his fist
on the wagon board ; " I've had my eye on him for some
little time."
He walked around the block twice after Captain Grant
had driven down the muddy street, before he composed
himself to enter the Carvel mansion. He paid no atten-
tion to the salutations of Jackson, the butler, who saw him
coming and opened the door, but climbed the stairs to the
sitting-room.
" Why, Captain Lige, you must have put wings on the
Louisiana" said Virginia, rising joyfully from the arm of
her father's chair to meet him. "We had given you up."
"What? "cried the Captain. "Give me up? Don't
you know better than that ? What, give me up when I
never missed a birthday, — and this the best of all of 'em ?
If your pa had got sight of me shovin' in wood and
sussin' the pilot for slowin' at the crossings, he'd never let
100 THE CRISIS
you ride in rny boat again. Bill Jenks said: 'Are you
plum crazy, Brent? Look at them cressets.' 'Five
dollars!' says I; 4I wouldn't go in for nVe 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 Jinny," he added ruefully.
' The Colonel rose, laughing, and hit the Captain on the
;back>
" Drat you, Lige, why 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'll 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 lady. Why, Pa, he's blushing like a girl.
I know. He's ashamed 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 Fd ever marry, Jinny," protested
the Captain, soberly, "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 young 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!" she
said.
"MISS JINNY" 10*
" Phee-ew ! " whistled the Captain. " Any more epi-
thets?"
" He's a nasty Abolitionist ! "
"There you do him wrong, honey," the Colonel put
in,
" I hear he took Hester to Miss Crane's," the Captain
continued, filling the room with his hearty laughter.
" That boy has sand enough, Jinny ; I'd like to know
him."
"You'll have that priceless opportunity to-night," re-
torted Miss Virginia, as she flung herself out of the room.
" Pa has made me invite him to my party."
" Here, Jinny ! Hold on ! " cried the Captain, running
after her. "I've got something for j7ou."
She stopped on the stairs, hesitating. Whereupon the
Captain hastily ripped open the bundle under his arm and
produced a very handsome India shawl. With a cry of
delight Virginia threw it over her shoulders and ran to
the long glass between the high windows.
" Who spoils her, Lige ? " asked the Colonel, fondly.
" Her father, I reckon," was the prompt reply.
" Who spoils you, Jinny ? "
" Captain Lige," said she, turning to him. " If you
had only kept the presents you have brought me from
New Orleans, you might sell out your steamboat and be a
rich man."
" He is a rich man," said the Colonel, promptly. " Did
you ever miss bringing her a present, Lige ? " he asked.
"When the Cora Anderson burnt," answered the Captain.
"Why," cried Virginia, "you brought me a piece of hei
wheel, with the char on it. You swam ashore with it."
" So I did," said Captain Brent. " I had forgotten
that. It was when the French dress, with the furbelows,
which Madame Pitou had gotten me from Paris for you,
was lost."
" And I think I liked the piece of wheel better," says
Virginia. "It was brought me by a brave man, the last
to leave his boat."
M And who should be the last to leave, but the captain ?
102 THE CRISIS
I saw the thing in the water, and I just thought we ougM
to have a relic."
" Lige," 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 Vicksburg f "
" 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 you remember buying the Vicksburg at the
sheriff's sale for twenty thousand dollars, and handing her
over to young Brent, and saying, 'There, my son, she's
your boat, and you can pay for her when you like ' ? "
" Shucks, Brent ! " said Mr. Carvel, sternly, " 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 ! "
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 know" said Captain Lige0
"He made me pay interest, and a mint 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.
" Marse Clarence done send 'em in, des picked out'n de
hothouse dis afternoon, Miss Jinny. Jackson, fotch a
bowl ! "
" No," said Virginia. She took the flowers from Ned,
one by one, and to the wonderment of Captain Lige and
Sier father strewed them hither and thither upon the tabk
"MISS JINNY" 103
until the white cloth was hid by the red flowers. The
Colonel stroked his goatee and nudged Captain Lige.
" Look-a-there, now," said he. " Any other woman
would have spent two mortal hours stickin' 'em in china."
Virginia, having critically surveyed her work, amid
exclamations from Ned and Jackson, had gone around to
her place. And there upon her plate lay a pearl necklace.
For an instant she clapped her palms together, staring at
it in bewilderment. And once more the little childish cry
of delight, long sweet to the Colonel's ears, escaped her.
"Pa," she said, "is it — ?" And there she stopped,
for fear that it might not be. But he nodded encourag=
ingly.
"Dorothy Carvel's necklace ! No, it can't be."
" Yes, honey," said the Colonel. " Your Uncle Daniel
sent it, as he promised. And when you go upstairs, if
Easter has done as I told her, you will see a primrose
dress with blue corn-flowers on your bed. Daniel thought
you might like that, too, for a keepsake. Dorothy Manners
wore it in London, when she was a girl."
And so Virginia ran and threw her arms about her
father's neck, and kissed him again and again. And lest
the Captain feel badly, she laid his India shawl beside her,
and the necklace upon it.
What a joyful supper they had, — just the three of
them ! And as the fresh roses filled the room with fra-
grance, Virginia filled it with youth and spirits, and Mr3
Carvel and the Captain with honest, manly merriment.
And Jackson plied Captain Brent (who was a prime
favorite in that house) with broiled chicken and hot beat
biscuits and with waffles, until at length he lay back in his
chair and heaved a sigh of content, lighting a cigar. And
then Virginia, with a little curtsey to both of them, ran of!
to dress for the party.
" Well," said Captain Brent, " I reckon there'll be gay
goings-on here to-night. I wouldn't miss the sight of
'em, Colonel, for all the cargoes on the Mississippi. Ain5t
there anything I can do ? "
"No, thank you, Lige," Mr. Carvel answered, "Do
104 THE CRISIS
you remember, one morning some five years ago, when
I took in at the store a Yankee named Hopper? You
didn't like him, I believe."
Captain Brent jumped, and the ashes of his cigar fell
on his coat. He had forgotten his conversation with
Captain Grant.
" I reckon I do," he said dryly.
For a moment he was on the point of telling the affair.
Then he desisted. He could not be sure of Eliphalet from
Grant's description. So he decided to await a better time.
Captain Brent was one to make sure of his channel before
going ahead.
" Well," continued the Colonel, " I have been rather
pushed the last week, and Hopper managed things for
this dance. He got the music, and saw the confectioner.
But he made such a close bargain with both of 'em that
they came around to me afterward," he added, laughing.
" Is he coming here to-night ? " demanded the Captain,
looking disgusted.
" Lige," replied the Colonel, "you never do get over
a prejudice. Yes, he's coming, just to oversee things.
He seems to have mighty little pleasure, and he's got the
best business head I ever did see. A Yankee," said
Mr. Carvel, meditatively, as he put on his hat, " a Yankee,
when he will work, works like all possessed. Hood don't
like him any more than you do, but he allows Hopper is
a natural-born business man. Last month Samuels got
tight, and Wright & Company were going to place the
largest order in years. I called in Hood. 4 Go yourself,
Colonel,' says he. 4 I'm too old to solicit business, Hood,'
said I. 'Then there's only one man to send,' says he;
3 young Hopper. He'll get the order, or I'll give up this
place I've had for twenty years.' Hopper 'callated' to
get it, and another small one pitched in. And you'd die
laughing, Lige, to hear how he did it."
" Some slichiess, I'll gamble," grunted Captain Lige.
" Well, I reckon 'twas slick," said the Colonel, thought-
fully. " You know old man Wright hates a solicitor like
poison. He has his notionso And maybe you've noticed
"MISS JINNY" 105
signs stuck up all over his store, i No Solicitors nor Travel-
ling Men Allowed Here ! ' "
The Captain nodded.
" But Hopper — Hopper walks in, sir, bold as you
please, right past the signs till he comes to the old man's
cage. ' I want to see Mr. Wright,' says he to the clerk,
jAnd the clerk begins to grin. 'Name, please,' says he.
[Mr. Hopper whips out his business card. ' What ! ' shouts
old Wright, flying 'round in his chair, 'what the devi]
does this mean? Can't you read, sir?' 'I callate to/
says Mr. Hopper. 'And you dare to come in here?'
' Business is business,' says Hopper. ' You " callate " ! '
bellowed the old man; ' I reckon you're a damned Yankee.
I reckon I'll upset your " callations " for once. And if
I catch you in here again, I'll wring your neck like a
roostah's. Git ! ' "
" Who told you this ? " asked Captain Brent.
"Wright himself, — afterward," replied Mr. Carvel,
laughing. " But listen, Lige. The old man lives at the
Planters' House, you know. What does Mr. Hopper do
but go 'round there that very night and give a nigger two
bits to put him at the old man's table. When Wright
comes and sees him, he nearly has one of his apoplectic fits.
But in marches Hopper the next morning with twice the
order. The good Lord knows how he did it."
There was a silence. Then the door-bell rang.
"He's dangerous," said the Captain, emphatically.
"That's what I call him."
" The Yankees are changing business in this town," wag
the Colonel's answer " We've got to keep the pace, Lig3o?
CHAPTER XIII
THE PARTY
To gentle Miss Anne Brinsmade, to Puss Russell of
the mischievous eyes, and even to timid Eugenie Renault,
the question that burned 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 given 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 Puss, 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 queenly
generosity. And after that none of the bevy had dared
to broach the subject to Virginia. Jack Brinsmade had0
He told Puss afterward that when Virginia got through
with him, he felt as if he had taken a rapid trip through
the wheel-house of a large steamer. Puss tried, by vari-
ous ingenious devices, to learn whether Mr. Brice 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
THE PARTY 10?
was not the fearful and wonderful thing— » to be deah
with gingerlj — which it has since become. Seventeen
was often the age at which they began. And one of the
big Catherwood boys had a habit of laying h's heart and
hand at Virginia's feet once a month. Nor d'd his vanity
suffer greatly when she laughed at him.
It was with a flutter of excitement, therefore, that Miss
Carvel's guests flitted past Jackson, who held the door
open obsequiously. The boldest of them took a rapid
survey of the big parlor, before they put foot on the stairs,
to see whether Mr. Brice had yet arrived. And if their
curiosity held them too long, they were usually kissed by
the Colonel.
Mr. Carvel shook hands heartily with the young men
and called them by their first names, for he knew most of
their fathers and grandfathers. And if an older gentle-
man arrived, perhaps the two might be seen going down
the hall together, arm in arm. So came his beloved en=
emy, Judge Whipple, who did not make an excursion to
the rear regions of the house with the Colonel ; but they
stood and discussed Mr. President Buchanan's responsi=
bility for the recent panic, until the band, which Mr. Hor>
per had stationed under the stairs, drowned their voices.
As we enter the room, there stands Yirginia under the
rainbowed prisms of the great chandelier, receiving. But
here was suddenly a woman of twenty-eight, where only
this evening we knew a slip of a girl. It was a trick she
had, to become majestic in a ball-gown. She held her
head high, as a woman should, and at her slender throat
glowed the pearls of Dorothy Manners.
The result of all this was to strike a little awe into th<
souls of many of her playmates. Little Eugenie nearly
dropped a curtsey. Belle Cluyme was so impressed that
she forgot for a whole hour to be spiteful. But Puss
Russell kissed her on both cheeks, and asked her if she
really wasn't nervous.
" Nervous ! " exclaimed Jinny ; u why ? "
Miss Russell glanced significantly towards the doorway =
But she said nothing to her hostess, for fear of marring an:
108 THE CRISIS
otherwise happy occasion. She retired with Jack Bring
made to a corner, where she recited : — -
** Oh young Loohinvar is come out of the East ;
V *f millioAS of Yankees I love him the least."
" What a joke if he should come ! " cried Jack.
Miss Russell gaspad.
Just as Mr. Clarence Colfax, resplendent in new even*
Ing clothes just arrived from JSIew 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 }7oung 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,
44 Virginia, who invited him here ? w
" I did," said Virginia, calmly, " of course. Who in-
vites any one here?"
" But ! " 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 PARTY 109
faced impudence ! Has he no shame that he should hold
his head so high? She feels her color mounting, even as
her resentment 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.
Nearly as tall as the Colonel himself, he is 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 Carvels was not to fail before such
a paltry situation as this. Shall 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 ! The occasion called for a little small
talk. An evil spirit took possession of Virginia. She
turned.
"Mr. Price, do you know my cousin, Mr. Colfax? " she
said.
Mr. Brice bowed. " I know Mr. Colfax by sight," he
replied.
Then Mr. Colfax made a stiff bow. To this new phase
his sense of humor did not rise. Mr. Brice was a Yankee
&nd no gentleman, inasmuch as he had overbid a lady for
Hester.
"Have you come here to live, Mr. Brice?" he asked.
The Colonel eyed his nephew oharply. But Stephen
emiled.
" Yes," he said, " if I can presently make enough to
keep me alive." 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 knows),
110 THE CKISIS
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 engaged
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 oi
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 mellow light of the long
gallery at Hollingdean, Kent, before a portrait of the Stu-
arts' 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
eye of his memory. White-haired Northwell's story, alsOo
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 eyes, 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 oi
THE PARTY 111
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 him "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 vou know the Edmunds. No ? You haven't been
112 THE CEISIS
there ? You don't know the Edmunds ? I thought every*
hody had been there. Charles, you look as if you were
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 isj
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 can tell ?
" My son," said he, " 1 am delighted to see you here.
Now that we are such near neighbors, we must be nearer
friends. You 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 effort for
him to reflect upon their new situation as poor tenants to
a wealthy family.
44 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 young ladies (and some-
fcimes older ones) are wont to deck their heroes. She had
THE PAETY 113
approached a mystery to find it human, as are many mys-
teries. But thank Heaven that she found a dignity, a
seriousness, — and these more than satisfied her. Like-
wise, she discovered something she had not looked for,
an occasional way of saying things that made her laugh,
She danced with him, and passed him back to Miss Puss
Russell, who was better pleased this time ; she passed him
on to her sister, who also danced with him, and sent him
upstairs for her handkerchief.
Nevertheless, Stephen was troubled. As the evening
wore on, he was more and more aware of an uncompromis-
ing attitude in his young hostess, whom he had seen
whispering to various young ladies from behind her fan
as they passed her. He had not felt equal to asking her
to dance a second time. Honest Captain Lige Brent, who
seemed to have taken a fancy to him, bandied him on his
lack of courage with humor that was a little rough. And,
to Stephen's amazement, even Judge Whipple had pricked
him on.
It was on his way upstairs after Emily Russell's hand-
kerchief that he ran across another acquaintance. Mr.
Eliphalet Hopper, in Sunday broadcloth, was seated on
the landing, his head lowered to the level of the top of
the high door of the parlor. Stephen caught a glimpse
of the picture whereon his eyes were fixed. Perhaps it
is needless to add that Miss Virginia Carvel formed the
central figure of it.
" Enjoyin' yourself ? " asked Mr. Hopper.
Stephen countered.
" Are you ? " he asked.
44 So so," said Mr. Hopper, and added darkly: 44I ain't
in no hurry. Just now they callate I'm about good
enough to manage the business end of an affair like this
here. I guess I can wait. But some day," said he, sud-
denly barring Stephen's way, "some day I'll give a party.
And hark to me when I tell you that these here aristo-
crats '11 be glad enough to get invitations."
Stephen pushed past coldly. This time the man made
him shiver. The incident was all that was needed to
114 THE CRISIS
dishearten and disgust him, Kindly as he had been
treated by others, far back in his soul was a thing that
rankled. Shall it be told crudely why he went that
night ? Stephen Brice, who would not lie 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 good-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
corner of the big parlor, for the moment alone with her
cousin. And thither Stephen sternly strode. Not a sign
did she give of being aware of his presence until he stood
before her. Even then she did not lift her eyes. But
she said : —
"So you have come at last to try again, Mr. Brice ? m
And Mr. Brice said : —
" If you will do me the honor, Miss Carvel.9*
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 thin^,
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 rhythm of the music,
and round the room they swung. More than one pair
paused in 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
THE PABTY iig
Hopper and his position. The sneer from Eliphalet's £&c®
seemed to penetrate like a chilly draught,
All at once, Virginia felt her partner gathering up hk
strength, and by some compelling force, more of will
than of muscle, draw her nearer. Unwillingly her hand
tightened under his, and her blood beat faster and her
"olor 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 ! " said Captain Lige to Judge Whipple3
P you can whollop me on my own forecastle if they ain'^
the handsomest couple I ever did see,*'
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 Hollings-
worths, retired to the local paradise of their country places
on the Bellefontaine road, on the cool heights above the
river. Thither, as a respite from the hot office, Stephen
was often invited by kind Mr. Brinsmade, who sometimes
drove him out in his own buggy. Likewise he had vis-
ited Miss Puss Russell. 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
Father 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 big 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
116
SAW MATERIAL HT
figure in a linen duster and a silk skull-cap took a seat Irs
the forward car. That was Judge Whipple, on his way
to spend a quiet Sunday with Colonel Carvel.
To the surprise of many good people, the Judge had
recently formed another habit. At least once a week he
would drop in at the little house on Olive Street next to
Mr. Brinsmade's big one, which was shut up, and take tea
with Mrs. Brice. Afterward he would sit on the little
porch over the garden in the rear, or on the front steps, and
watch the bob-tailed horse-cars go by. His conversation
was chiefly addressed to the widow. Rarely to Stephen,
whose wholesome respect for his employer had in no wise
abated.
Through the stifling heat of these summer days Stephen
sat in the outer office, straining at the law. Had it not
been for the fact that Mr. Whipple went to his mother?g
house, despair would have seized him long since. Appar=
ently his goings-out and his comings-in were noted only
by Mr. Richter. Truly the Judge's methods were not
Harvard methods. And if there were pride in the young
Bostonian, Mr. Whipple thought he knew the cure for it,
It was to Richter Stephen owed a debt of gratitude in
these days. He would often take his midday meal in the
down-town beer garden with the quiet German. Then
there came a Sunday afternoon (to be marked with a
red letter) when Richter transported him into Germany
itself. Stephen's eyes were opened. Richter took him
across the Rhine. The Rhine was Market Street, and
south of that street was a country of which polite Ameri-
can society took no cognizance.
Here was an epic movement indeed, for South St=
Louis was a great sod uprooted from the Fatherland and
set down in all its vigorous crudity in the warm black
mud of the Mississippi Valley. Here lager beer took the
place of Bourbon, and black bread and sausages of hot
rolls and fried chicken. Here were quaint market-
houses squatting in the middle of wide streets ; Lutheran
churches, square and uncompromising, and bulky Turnei
Halls, where German children were taught the German
HB THE CKISIS
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, puffing 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-chestef
Saxon. He saw them in cathedral forests, with the re<l
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 Biois 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
EAW MATERIAL in
that Miss Puss Russell had used on the subject of the
* Dutch."
" No," said he, emphatically.
" I am glad," answered Richter, with a note of sadness
in his voice. " Do not despise us before you know more
of us. We are still feudal in Germany — of the Middle
I Ages. The peasant is a serf. He is compelled to serve
the lord of the land every year with so much labor of
his hands. The small farmers, the Gross and Mittel
Bauern, we call them, are also mortgaged to the nobles
who tyrannize our Yaterland. Our merchants are little
merchants — shopkeepers, you would say. My poor father,
an educated man, was such. They fought our revolu-
tion."
"And now," said Stephen, "why do they not keep their
hold ? "
Richter sighed.
"We were unused to ruling," he answered. "We
knew not how to act — what to do. You must remember
that we were not trained to govern ourselves, as are you
of the English race, from children. Those who have been
for centuries ground under heel do not make practical
parliamentarians. No; your heritage is liberty — you
Americans and English ; and we Germans must desert
oar native land to partake of it."
" And was it not hard to leave ? " asked Stephen, gently,
The eyes of the German filled at the recollection, nor
did h^. seem ashamed of his tears.
" I bad a poor old father whose life was broken to save
the Yaterland, but not his spirit," he cried, "no, not that,
.My father was born in 1797. God directed my grand-
father to send him to the Kolnisches gymnasium, where
the great Jahn taught. Jahn was our Washington, the
father of Germany that is to be.
" Then our Fatherland was French. Our women wore
Parisian clothes, and spoke the language ; French immo-
rality and atheism had spread like a plague among us;
Napoleon the vile had taken the sword of our Frederick
from Berlin. It was Father Jahn (so we love to call
120 THE CRISIS
him), it was Father Jahn who founded the Turnsohule^
that the generations to come might return to simple Ger-
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 d?ijs of the Frankish kings, had we been so
humbled. He dragged our young men with him to Russia,
?„nd 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, Jaeger and Landivehr, came flocking
into the army, and even the old men, the Landsturm.
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 by the rains into torrents. It had^
rained until the forests were marshes. Powder would
not burn. But Bliicher, ah, there was a man! He
whipped his great sabre from under his cloak, crying i Vbr-
wdrts! Vorwarts.r 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
Marschall Vorwarts !
RAW MATERIAL 121
56 Then Napoleon was sent to Elba. But the victors
quarrelled amongst themselves, while Talleyrand and
Metternich tore our Vaterland into strips, and set brother
against brother. And our blood, and the grief for the
widows and the fatherless, went for nothing."
Richter paused to light his pipe.
w After a while," he continued presently, " came the
German Confederation, with Austria at the head. Rid of
Napoleon, we had another despot in Metternich. But the
tree which Jahn had planted grew, and its branches spreadc
The great master was surrounded by spies. My father
had gone to Jena University, when he joined the Burschen-
8chaft, or Students' League, of which I will tell you later..
It was pledged to the rescue of the Vaterland. He was
sent to prison for dipping his handkerchief in the blood of
Sand, beheaded for liberty at Mannheim, Afterwards he
was liberated, and went to Berlin and married my mother,
who died when I was young. Twice again he was in
prison because the societies met at his house. We were
very poor, my friend. You in America know not the
meaning of that word. His health broke, and when '48
came, he was an old man. His hair was white, and he
walked the streets with a crutch. But he had saved t
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 at the end of a Semester
«— I can see him now, as he would hobble to the door,
wearing the red and black and gold of the Burschenschaft.
And he would keep me up half the night — telling him of
our Schlager fights with the aristocrats-. My father L^d
been a noted swordsman in his day."
He stopped abruptly, and colored. For Stephen was
staring at the jagged scar. He had never summoned the
courage to ask Richter how he came by it.
" Schlager fights ? " he exclaimed.
" Broadswords," answered the German, hastily. * Some
day I will tell you of them, and of the struggle with the
troops in the Breite Strasse in March. We lost, as I told
you, because we knew not how to hold what we had gained;
l22 THE CRISIS
I left Germany, hoping to make a home here for my poor
father. How sad his face as he kissed me farewell ! 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 the 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." Bichter'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 hadi
taken into account.
CHAPTER IX
ABRAHAM LINCOLN
It is sometimes instructive to look back and see how
Destiny gave us a kick here, and Fate a shove there, that
sent us in the right direction at the 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 Springfield, you are to deliver this enve=
lope into the hands of Mr, Abraham Lincoln, of the 1&V3
Srm of Lincoln & Herndon "
12S
£24 THE CKISIS
" Abraham Lincoln ! " cried Stephen, rising and strad
dling his chair. " But, sir — "
"Abraham Lincoln," interrupted the Judge, forcibly
ttt I try to speak plainly, sir. You are to deliver it into
Mr. Lincoln's hands. If he is not in Springfield, find
out where he is and follow him up. Your expenses will
be paid by me. The papers are important. Do you
understand, sir ? "
Stephen did. And he knew better than to argue the
matter with Mr0 Whipple. He had read in the Missouri
Democrat of this man Lincoln, a country lawyer who had
once been to Congress, and who was even now disputing
the senator ship of his state with the renowned Douglas.
In spite of their complacent amusement, he had won a
little admiration from conservative citizens who did not
believe in the efficacy of Judge Douglas's Squatter Sover-
eignty. Likewise this Mr. Lincoln, who had once been a
rail-splitter, was uproariously derided by Northern Demo
irats because he had challenged Mr. Douglas to seven
debates, to be held at different towns in the state of Illi-
nois. David with his sling and his smooth round pebble
must have had much of the same sympathy and ridicule.
For Mr. Douglas, Senator and Judge, was a national
character, mighty in politics, invulnerable in the armor of
his oratory. And he was known far and 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 in fine print in a corner of the Democrat Per-
haps this Lincoln might not be in Springfield ; perhaps he,
Stephen Brice, might, by chance, hit upon a debate, and
see and hear the tower of the Democracy, the Honorable
Stephen A. Douglas.
But it is greatly to be feared that our friend Stephen
was bored with his errand before he arrived at the little
wooden station of the Illinois capital. Standing on the
platform after the train pulled out, he summoned up
sourage to ask a citizen with no mustache and a beard*
ABRAHAM LINCOLN 125
which he swept away when he spat, where was the office
of Lincoln & Herndon. The stranger spat twice, regarded
Mr. Brice pityingly, and finally led him in silence past the
picket fence and the New England-looking meeting-house
opposite until they came to the great square on which the
State House squatted. The State House was a building
with much pretension to beauty, built in the classical
style, of a yellow stone, with solid white blinds in the high
windows and mighty columns capped at the gently slanting
roof. But on top of it was reared a crude wooden dome,
like a clay head on a marble statue.
"That there," said the stranger, "is whar we watches
for the County Delegations when they come in to a meet=
In'." And with this remark, pointing with a stubby
thumb up a well-worn stair, he departed before Stephen
could thank him. Stephen paused under the awning, of
which there were many shading the brick pavement, to
regard the straggling line of stores and houses which sur-
rounded and did homage to the yellow pile. The brick
house in which Mr. Lincoln's office was had decorations
above the windows. Mounting the stair, Stephen found
a room bare enough, save for a few chairs and lav/ books j
and not a soul in attendance. After sitting awhile by the
window, mopping his brow with a handkerchief, he went
out on the landing to make inquiries. There he met
another citizen in shirt sleeves, like unto the first, in the
very act of sweeping his beard out of the way of a dex=
terous expectoration.
" Wal, young man," said he, " who be you lookin* for
here?"
" For Mr. Lincoln," said Stephen.
At this the gentle inan sat down on the dirty top step,
and gave vent to quiet but annoying laughter.
"I reckon you come to the wrong place."
"I was told this was his office," said Stephen, with
some heat.
" Whar be you from ? " said the citizen, with interestc
" I don't see what that has to do with it," answered ous
friends
l26 THE CRISIS
**Wal," said the citizen, critically, "if you was fron&
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 citizenr
who seemed in the humor for conversation, " I reckon
6 old Abe's ' too busy to see you. Say, young man, did
you ever hear of Stephen Arnold Douglas, alias the Little
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 such 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 curtains,
hitched to a big bay horse.
" 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 home3 But that hasn't been
often lately."
" Where is he 9 " 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 niglito He told Stephen that he
ABRAHAM LINCOLN 12?
Looked wilted, invited him into the house to have a glass
of lemonade, and to join him and another boy in a fishing
excursion with the big bay horse. Stephen told young
Mr, Lincoln that he should have to take the first train
after his father.
" Jiminy ! " exclaimed the other, enviously, " then
you'll hear the Freeport debate." i
Now it has been said that the day was scorching note
And when Stephen had got back to the wooden station,
and had waited an hour for the Bloomington express, his
anxiety to hear the Freeport debate was not as keen as
it might have been. Late in the afternoon he changed at
Bloomington to the Illinois Central Railroad. The sun
fell down behind the cardboard edge of the prairie, the
train rattled on into the north, wrapped in its dust and
smoke, and presently became a long comet, roaring red
to match that other comet which flashed in the sky.
By this time it may be said that our friend was heartily
sick of his mission. He tried to doze; but two men,
a farmer and a clerk, got in at a way station, and sat
behind him. They began to talk about this man
Lincoln.
" Shucks," said the clerk, " think of him opposing the
Little Giant."
" He's right smart, Sam," said the farmer. " He's got
a way of sayin' things that's clear. We boys can foller
him. But Steve Douglas, he only mixes you up."
His companion guffawed.
" Because why ? " he shouted. " Because you ain't had
no education. What does a rail-splitter like Abe know
about this government? Judge Douglas has worked it'
all out. He's smart. Let the territories take care of
themselves. Besides, Abe ain't got no dignity c The
fust of this week I seen him side-tracked down the road
here in a caboose, while Doug went by in a special."
*'Abe is a plain man, Sam," the farmer answered soL
emnly. M But you watch out for him."
It was ten o'clock when Stephen descended at his des*
^nation, Merciful night hid from his view the forlorc
128 THE CRISIS
station and the ragged town. The baggage man told hut
that Mr, Lincoln was at the tavern.
That tavern ! Will words describe the impression it
made on a certain young man from Boston i It was long
and low and rarushackly, and hot that night as the inside
*>f 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 smiles, 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
cers like the old campaigner he was
u Now, Ben, tain't no use gettin' mad. You, and Josh
way, an' Will, anJ Sam, an' the Cap'n, an5 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 Stirling 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 dinin5 room, the gals'll give
you some pork and a cup of coffee. M
After a preliminary scuffle with a drunken countiyman
In mud-caked 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,
u You didn t talk jest like ?em. Guess jonll be her-a
to~nigbfc«M
ABRAHAM LLSCOLH 1M
"Yes,? said Stephen* wearily. And he added^ out of
force of habit, K Can you give me a room ? '
"I reckon,'5 was the cheerful reply. *' Number ten-
There ain't nobody in there but Ben Billings, and ths
four Beaver brothers, an' three more, I'll have a shake
down for ye next the north window."
Stephen's thanks for the hospitality perhaps lacked
heartiness. But perceiving his host still contemplating
him, he was emboldened to say s —
" Has Mr. Lincoln gone to bed ? "
"Who? Old Abe, at half -past ten? Wal, I recko*
you don^t know him.??
Stephen's reflections here on the dignity of the Sena-
torial candidate of the Republican Party in Illinois were
aovel, at any rate, He thought of certain senators he had
seen in Massachusetts,
" The only reason he ain't down here ewappin* yarns
with the boys, is because he's havin"' some sort of confab
with the Jedge and Joe Medill of tin (Jhicagy Press and
Tribune/'
41 Do you think he would see me ? ,? asked Stephen,
eagerly. He was emboldened by the apparent lack of
ceremony of the candidate, Tne landlord looked at him
in some surprise .
* Wal, I reckon, Jest go up an' knock at the door o!
number seven, and say Tom Wright sent ye«"
'' How shall I know Mr* Lincoln ? " asked Stephen,
"Pick out the ugliest man in the room= There aint
nobody I kin think of uglier than Abe."
Bearing in mind this succinct description of the candi=
date, Stephen climbed the rickety stairs to the low second
story. All the bedroom doors were flung open except
one, on which the number 7 was inscribed, FroLct within
came bursts of uproarious laughter.; and a summon5? to
enter*
He pushed open the door5 and as soon as his eyas fae@a*i&€
accustomed to the tobacco smoke, he surveyed the room.
There was a bowl on the floor, the chair where it belonged
being occupied. There was a very inhospitable looking bed,
130 THE CEISIS
two shake-downs, and four Windsor chairs in more or less
state of dilapidation — all occupied likewise. A country
glass lamp was balanced 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
jothers 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 yon think ? Mr. Lincoln
was defending an occasional and judicious use of swear
words.
"Judge," said he, "you do an almighty let 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 haii%
His thick lower lip crept over in front of the upper onec
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 ! ??
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 truly 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
ABEAHAM LINCOLN 131
day the old man got an inspiration when he was scratch-
ing around in the dirt for an odd-sized iron.
" ' Sam'l,' says he, ' I want thee.'
" Sam'l went, and found the old man standing over a
big rat hole, where the rats came out to feed on the
scraps.
"' Sam'l,* says he, i fetch the tongs.*
" Sam'l fetched the tongs.
"'Now, Sam'l,' says the old man, 4thou 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 ? ' n
Here Mr. Lincoln seized two cotton umbrellas, rasped
his chair over the bare floor into a corner of the room, and
sat hunched over an imaginary rat hole, for all the world
like a gawky Quaker apprentice. And this was a candi-
date for the Senate of the United States, who on the
morrow was to meet in debate the renowned and polished
Douglas !
" Well," Mr. 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'l. But Sam'l sat there, and sat there, and sat
there, and after a while the old man pulled out his dinner-
pail. Sam'l never opened his mouth. First thing you
know, snip went the tongs." Mr. Lincoln turned gravely
around. " What do you reckon Sam'l said, Judge ? "
The Judge, at random, summoned up a good one, to
the delight of the audience.
" Judge," said Mr. Lincoln, with solemnity, " I reckon
that's what you'd have said. Sam'l never said 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'l, he
sat there. *Long towards night the boys collected 'round
the door. They were getting kind of interested. Sam'l,
he never looked up." Here Mr. Lincoln bent forward a
little, and his voice fell to a loud, drawling whisper.
61 First thing yon know, here come the whiskers peeping
upj then the pink eyes a-blinking at the forge- then — ! "
132 THE CRISIS
Suddenly he brought the umbrellas together with a
whackc
«« By God,* yells Sam'l, ' I have thee at last I ' n
Amid the shouts, Mr. Lincoln stood up, his long body
swaying to and fro as he lifted high the improvised tougs0
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 III
IN WHICH STEPHEN LEARNS SOMETHING
It was Mr. Lincoln who brought him back, The
astonishing candidate for the Senate had sunk into his
chair, his face relaxed into sadness save for the sparkle
lurking in the eyes. So he sat, immobile, until the
laughter had died down to silencee Then he turned to
Stephen.
" Sonny," he said, " did you want to see me?'*
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>
But he tried to imagine 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 like to be called " Sonny." But he
looked into two gray eyes, and at the face, and something
curious 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?"
"Yes, sir." Stephen wondered at the "sir." It had
been involuntary. He drew from his inner pocket th^
envelope which the Judge had given him.
Mr. Lincoln ripped it open. A document fell out, an ii
a letter. He put the document in his tall hat, which wag
upside down on the floor. As he got deeper into the
letter, he pursed his mouth, and the lines of his face deep
sned in a smile= Then he looked up5 grave again,
l&fc
:>34 THE CRISIS
" Judge Whipple told you to run till you found me, did
he, Mr. Brice?"
"Yes, sir."
" Is the Judge the same 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. Yon
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
you ever saw. I mean Colonel Carvel. You've heard of
him, Oglesby, Don't they quarrel once in a while, Mr0
Brice?"
"They do have occasional arguments/' 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
coin's imitation of the Colonel's drawl brought him a
pang like homesickness.
" * No, suh, I didn't intend to shoot0 Not if he had gona
off straight. But he wriggled and twisted like a rattle-
snakes and I Just couldn't resist, suh* Then I sent my
STEPHEN LEARNS SOMETHING 136
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 Yankees 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 filed with
papers. He clapped the hat on his head, and buttoned
on his collar.
" I reckon I'll go for a walk, boys," he said, "and clear
my head, so as to be ready for the Little Giant to-morrcw
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. 4- We want to know if
you're going to ask Douglas that question."
" If you do, you kill yourself, Lincoln," said another-c
who Stephen afterwards learned was Mr. Medill, pro-
prietor of the great Press and Tribune.
44 I guess I'll risk it, Joe," said Mr. Lincoln, gravely,
Suddenly comes the quiver about the corners 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 handsomest 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 Bartlettc
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*
44 Now there was an ugly galoot whose name isn't worth
mentioning. He knew he wasn't in any way fit for Sues
and he liked pears about as well as Jim Rickets. WeBj
136 THE CRISIS
one night here comes Jim along the road9 whistlings
to court Susan, and there was the ugly galoot a-yearning
on the bank under the pear tree. Jim was all fixed up,
and he says to the galoot, * Let's have a throw/ Now
the galoot knew old Bell was looking over the fence.
So he says, 4 All right,* and he gives Jim the first shot.
Jim fetched down the big pear, got his teeth in it, and
strolled off to the house, kind of pitiful of the galoot for
& half-witted ass. When he got to the door, there was
the old man. 4 What are you here for ? ' s&ys he. 4 Why,'
says Rickets, in his off-hand way, for he always had
great confidence, 4 to fetch Sue.'"
ik The old man used to wear brass toes to keep his boots
from wearing out," said Mr. Lincoln, dreamily.
M You see," continued Mr. Lincoln, " you see the galoot
knew that Jim Rickets wasn't to be trusted with Susan
BelL"
Some of the gentlemen appeared to see the point of
this political parable, for they laughed uproariously. The
others laughed, too. Then they slapped their knees,
looked at Mr, Lincoln's face, which was perfectly sober,
and laughed again, a little fainter. Then the Judge
looked as solemn as his title.
"It won't do, Abe," said he. " You commit suicide."
" You'd better stick to the pear, Abe," said Mr. Medill,
"and fight Stephen A. Douglas here and now. This isn't
any picnic. Do you know who he is ? "
" Why, yes, Joe," said Mr. Lincoln, amiably. " He's a
man with tens of thousands of blind followers, It's my
business to make some of those blind followers see."
By this time Stephen was burning to know the question
that Mr. Lincoln wished to ask the Little Giant, and why
the other gentlemen were against it. But Mr. Lincoln
surprised him still further in taking him by the arm.
Turning to the young reporter, Mr. Hill, who had finished
Ms writing, he said : — -
" Bob, a little air will do you good. I've had enough of
the old boys for a while, and I'm going to talk to somebody
my own age '
STEPHEN LEARNS SOUTHING 1&
Stephen was halfway down the corridor when he dis
covered that he had forgotten his hat. As he returned he
heard somebody say : —
u If that ain't just like Abe. He stopped to pull a flea
out of his stocking when he was going to light that duel
with Shields, and now he's walking with boys before a
debate with the smartest man in this country. And
there's heaps of things he ought to discuss with us.::
" Reckon we haven't got much to do with it," said
another, half laughing, half rueful. " There's some things
Abe won't stando"
From the stairs Stephen saw Mr. Lincoln threading his
way through the crowd below, laughing at one, pausing tc
lay his hand on the shoulder of another, and replying to a
rough sally of a third to make the place a tumult of guf-
faws. But none had the temerity to follow himc When
Stephen caught up with him in the little country street,
he was talking earnestly to Mr. Hill, the young reporter
of the Press and Tribune. And what do you think was the
subject? The red comet in the sky that night. Stephen
kept pace in silence with Mr, Lincoln's strides, another
shock in store for him. This rail-splitter, this postmaster,
this flat-boatman, whom he had not credited with a knowl-
edge of the New Code, was talking Astronomy. And
strange to say, Mr. Brice was learning.
"Bob," said Mr, Lincoln, "can you elucidate the prob
lem of the three bodies ? "
To Stephen's surprise, Mr* Hill elucidated.
The talk then fell upon novels and stories, a few o*
which Mr. Lincoln seemed to have read. He spoke, among
others, of the "Gold Bug." "The story is grand," said
he, " but it might as well have been written of Robinson.
Crusoe's island. What a fellow wants in a book is to
know where he is. There are not many novels, or ancient
works for that matter, that put you down anywhere,"
"There is that genuine fragment which Cicero has pre
served from a. last work of Aristotle," said Mr. Hill,
slyly0 " 4 If there were beings who lived in the depths o&
the earth, and could emerge through the open fissures
IS8 THE CRISIS
and could suddenly behold the earth, the sea^ and th@
vault of heaven — ' w
M But you — - you impostor," cried Mr. Lincoln, inter-
rupting, "you5re 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 with 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
Jiira as if he had known this tall Illinoisan always. The
whim of the senatorial candidate in choosing him for a
Companion he did not then try to account for.
M Come, Mr. Stephen," said Mr. Lincoln, presently f,
M where do you hail from ? "
st 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 ? "
44 Is the Judge a friend of yours, sir ? " Stephen askedo
" What ! " exclaimed Mr. Lincoln, " didn't he tell you
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. Lincolno
u 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 ! And how do you feel, Mr. Stephen ? n
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, sir0
That would drown the nation. I believe that the wates
§an be drained off in some other way."
Mr. Lincoln's direct answer to this was to give Stephen
& stinging slap between the shoulder-blades,
STEPHEN LEAKNS SOMETHING 139
iC God bless the boy ! w he cried. " He has thought it
®ut, Bob, take that down for the Press and Tribune as
coming from a rising young politician of St. Louis."
"Why," Stephen blurted out, "I — I thought you
were an Abolitionist, Mr. Lincoln."
" Mr. Brice," said Mr. Lincoln, " I have as much use
for the Boston Liberator as I have for the Charleston
Courier. You may guess how much that is. The ques^
tion is not whether we shall or shall not have slavery,
but whether slavery shall stay where it is, or be extended
according to Judge Douglas's ingenious plan. The Judge
is for breeding worms. I am for cauterizing the sore so
that it shall not spread. But I tell you, Mr. Brice, that
this nation cannot exist half slave and half free."
Was it the slap on the back that opened Stephen's
eyes? It was certain that as they returned to the tavern
the man at his side was changed,, He need not have felt
chagrined. Men in high places underestimated Lincoln,
or did not estimate him at all. Affection came first.
The great warm heart had claimed Stephen as it claimed
all who came near it.
The tavern was deserted save for a few stragglerso
Under the dim light at the bar Mr. Lincoln took off his
hat and drew the Judge's letter from the lining.
"Mr. Stephen," said he, "would you like to come to
Freeport with me to-morrow and hear the debate ? "
An hour earlier he would have declined with thanks.
But now I Now his face lighted at the prospect, and
suddenly fell again. Mr. Lincoln guessed the cause.
He laid his hand on the young man's shoulder, and
laughed.
"I reckon you're thinking of what the Judge will say/9
Stephen smiled.
" I'll take care of the Judge," said Mr. Lincoln . " I'm
not afraid of him." He drew forth from the inexhaust=
ible hat a slip of paper, and began to write.
"There," said he, when he had finished, "a friend of
mine is going to Springfield in the morning, and he'll
send that to the Judge,"
im THE CRISIS
And this is what he had written s —
w I have borrowed Steve for a day or two, and guarantee to
return him a good Republican.
6iAc Lincoln.**
It is worth remarking that this was the first time Mr.
Brice had been called " Steve * and had not resented it.
Stephen was embarrassed. He tried to thank Mr.
Lincoln, but that gentleman's quizzical look cut hin>
short. And the next remark made him gasp.
" Look here, Steve,5' said he, " you know a parlor from
a drawing- room , What did you think of me when you
saw me to-night ? "
Stephen blushed furiously, and his tongue clave to the
ffoof of his mouth.
64 I'll tell you," said Mr. Lincoln, with his characteristic
smile, u you thought that you wouldn't pick me out of a
bunch of horses to race with the Senator,"
CHAPTER IY
THE QUESTION
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 thought of
that steaming night in the low-ceiled room of the coun=
try tavern, reeking with the smell of coarse food and hot
humanity. He remembers vividly how at first his gorge
rose, and recalls how gradually there crept over him a
forgetfulness of the squalidity and discomfort. Then
came a space gray with puzzling wonder. Then the
dawning of a worship for a very ugly man in a rumpled
and ill-made coatc
You will perceive that there was hope for Stephen, On
his shake-down that night, oblivious to the snores of his
companions and the droning of the insects, he lay awake,
And before his eyes was that strange, marked face, with
its deep lines that blended both humor and sadness there,
It was homely, and yet Stephen found himself reflecting
that honesty was just as homely, and plain truth. And
yet both were beautiful to those who had learned to love
them, Just so this Mr. Lincoln.
He fell asleep wondering why Judge Whipple had sent
him.
It was in accord with nature that reaction came with
the morning. Such a morning, and such a place !
He was awakened, shivering, by the beat of rain on the
roof, and stumbling over the prostrate forms of the four
Beaver brothers, reached the window, Clouds filled the
sky, and Joshway, whose pallet was under the sill, was
in a blessed state of moisture.
No wonder some of his enthusiasm had trickled away I
J4J
142 THE CRISIS
He made his toilet in the wet under the pump outside*
where he had to wait his turn. And he rather wished he
were going back to St. Louis. He had an early breakfast
of fried eggs and underdone bacon, acd coffee which
made him pine for Hester's. The dishes were neither too
clean nor too plentiful, being 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
the 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 coming struggle with his skilful antagonist was
weighing him down in the least? Stephen held aloof
from the groups, thinking that Mr* Lincoln had forgotten
him. He decided to leave for St. Louis on the morning
train, and was even pushing toward the tavern entrance
with his bag in his hand, when he was met by Mr. Hill.
" I had about given you up, Mr. Brice," he said, M Mr3
Lincoln asked me to get hold of you, and bring you to
him alive or dead."
Accordingly Stephen was led to the station, where a
long train of twelve cars was pulled up, covered with
flags and buntings 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 Press 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
for that seato
THE QUESTION 143
M I've taken a shine to this Bostonian, Joe," said Mr,
Lincoln to Mr. Medill. " We've got to catch 'em young
to do anything with 'em, you know. Now, Steve, just
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 ? "
Stephen saw expostulation in Mr, Medill's eyes, and
hesitated. And Mr. Lincoln seemed to feel Medill's
objections, as by mental telepathy. But he said : —
" We'll come to that little matter later, Joe, when the
cars start."
Naturally, Stephen began uneasily. But under the
influence of that kindly eye he thawed, and forgot him>
self. He felt that this man was not one to feign an inter =
est. The shouts of the people on the little platform
interrupted the account, and the engine staggered off
with its load.
" I reckon St. Louis is a nest of Southern Democrats, w
Mr. Lincoln remarked, "and not much opposition."
" There are quite a few Old Line Whigs, sir," ventured
Stephen, smiling.
" Joe," said Mr. Lincoln, " did you ever hear Warfield's
definition of an Old Line Whig ?
Mr. Medill had noto
" A man who takes his toddy regularly, and votes the Dem-
ocratic ticket occasionally, and who wears ruffled shirtSa"
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 think that the Republican party will gathe*
a considerable strength there in another year or two. We
have the material for powerful leaders in Mr* Blair and
others" (Mr. Lincoln nodded at the name). " We are get
ting an ever increasing population from New England,
mostly of young men who will take kindly to the new
party/9 And then he added, thinking of his pilgrimage
the Sunday before : " South St. Louis is a solid mass o!
Germans, who are all antislavery. But they are ver?
foreign still, and have all their German institutions/*
LU the ceisis
8* The Turner Halls ? *5 Mr. Lincoln surprised him by
inquiring,
"Yes, And I believe that they drill there.9'
61 Then they will the more easily be turned into soldiers,
if the time should come," said Mr. Lincoln, And he
added quickly, " I pray that it may not."
Stephen had cause to remember that observation, and
fche acumen it showed, long afterward.
The train made several stops, and at each of them
shoals of country people filled the aisles, and paused for
a most familiar chat with the senatorial candidate. Many
called him Abe. His appearance was the equal in rough-
ness to theirs, his manner if anything was more demo-
cratic, — yet in spite of all this Stephen in them detected
a deference which might almost be termed a homage,
There were many women among them. Had our friend
been older, he might have known that the presence of
good women in a political crowd portends something.
As it was, he was surprised., He was destined to be still
more surprised that day.
When they had left behind them the shouts of the little
town of Dixon, Mr. Lincoln took off his hat, and produced
a crumpled and not too immaculate scrap of paper from
the multitude therein.
" Now, Joe," said he, " here are the four questions I
Intend to ask Judge Douglas^ I am ready for you Fire
away."
" We don't care anything about the others,39 answered
Mr. Medill. " But I tell you this. If you ask that sec-
ond one, youll never see the United States Senate."
" And the Republican party in this state will have had
a blow from which it can scarcely recover,'7 added Mr0'
Judd, chairman of the committee,
Mr. Lincoln did not appear to hear them, His eyes
were far away over the wet prairie*
Stephen held his breath. But neither he, nor Medill,
nor Judd, nor Hill guessed at the pregnancy of that
moment. How were they to know that the fate of the
United States of America was concealed in that Question?
THE QUESTION 145
*~was to be decided on a rough wooden platform that
day in the town of Freeport, Illinois ?
But Abraham Lincoln, the uncouth man in the linen
duster with the tousled hair, knew it. And the stons
that was rejected of the builders was to become the cor*
ner-stcne of the temple.
, Suddenly Mr. Lincoln recalled himself, glanced at the
paper, and cleared his throat. In measured tones, plainly
heard above the rush and roar of the train, he read the
Question : —
" Can the people of a United States Territory, in any
lawful way, against the wish of any citizen of the United
States, exclude slavery from its limits prior to the formation
of a State Constitution f "
Mr. Medill listened intently.
" Abe," said he, solemnly, " Douglas will answer yes, or
equivocate, and that is all the assurance these Northern
Democrats want to put Steve Douglas in the Senate.
They'll snow you under."
" All right," answered Mr. Lincoln, quietly.
** • All right ' f " asked Mr. Medill, reflecting the sheei
astonishment of the others : " then why the devil are you
wearing yourself out ? And why are we spending oux
time and money on you? "
Mr. Lincoln laid his hand on MednTs sleeve.
" Joe," said he, " a rat in the larder is easier to catch
than a rat that has the run of the cellar. You know
where to set your trap in the larder. Ill tell you why
I'm in this campaign : to catch Douglas now, and keep
him out of the White House in 1860. To save this
country of ours, Joe. She's sick."
There was a silence, broken by two exclamations.
&*But see here, Abe," said Mr. Medill, as soon as ever
he got his breath, " what have we got to show for it 1
Where do you come in? "
Mr* Lincoln smiled wearily.
f/ Nowhere, I reckon,'' he answered simply,
* Good Lord ! " said Mr. Judd,
Mr= Medill gulped.
L46 THE CRISIS
66 You mean to say, as the candidate of the Republican
party, you don't care whether you get to the Senate ? "
" Not if I can send Steve Douglas there with his wings
broken," was the calm reply.
" Suppose he does answer yes, 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 solid
South, that he has been fostering ever since he has had
the itch to be President. Without the solid South tho
Little Giant will never live in the White Housec And
unless I'm mightily mistaken, Steve Douglas has had his
eye as far ahead as 1860 for some time.'9
Another silence followed these wordso There was a
stout man standing in the aisle, and he spat deftly out
of the open window.
" You may wing Steve Douglas, Abe,'* said he, gloomily,
&i but the gun will kick you over the bluff."
64 Don t worry about me, Ed," said Mr* Lincoln. "I'm
not worth it."
In a wave of comprehension the significance of all this
was revealed to Stephen Bricec The grim humor, the
sagacious statesmanship, and (best of all) the superb self-
sacrifice of 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 : " P}7thagoras
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 great is to be
misunderstood. s$
How many have conversed with Lincoln before and
since, and knew him not !
If an outward and visible sign of Mrc Lincoln's great-
ness were needed, — - he had chosen to speak to them m
THE QUESTION 14ft
homely parables. The story of Farmer Bell was plain as
day. Jim Rickets, who had life all his own way, was
none other than Stephen A. Douglas, the easily success-
ful. The ugly galoot, who dared to raise his eyes only to
the pear, was Mr. Lincoln himself. And the pear was the
Senatorship, which the galoot had denied himself to save
Susan from being Mr. Rickets' bride.
Stephen could understand likewise the vehemence of
the Republican leaders who crowded around their candi-
date and tried to get him to retract that Question He
listened quietly, he answered with a patient smile. Now
and then he threw a story into the midst of this discussion
which made them laugh in spite of themselves. The hope
lessness of the case was quite plain to Mr> Hill, who
smiled, and whispered in Stephen's ear : —
" He has made up his mind. They will not budge him
an inch, and they know it,"
Finally Mr. Lincoln took the scrap of paper, which was
even more dirty and finger-marked by this time, and
handed it to Mr. Hill. The train was slowing down for
Freeport. In the distance, bands could be heard playing,
and along the track, line upon line of men and women
were cheering and waving, It was ten o'clock, raw and
cold for that time of the year, and the sun was trying to
come out.
" Bob," said Mr. Lincoln, " be sure you get that right
in your notes. And, Steve, you stick close to me, and
youTl see the show. Why, boys," he added, smiling,
"there's the great man's private car, cannon and all."
All that Stephen saw was a regular day-car on a side-
track, A brass cannon was on the tender hitched behind it
CHAPTER Y
THE CRISIS
Stephen Ac Douglas, called the Little Gknt on
account of his intellect, was a type of man of which oui
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 strain3
and sometimes brands them as adventurers. Their ability
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, instead 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.
Mr. Douglas was a juggler, a political prestidigitateur0
He did things before the eyes of the Senate and the nation.
His balm for the healing of the nation's wounds was a
patent medicine so cleverly concocted that experts alone
could show what was in it. So abstruse and twisted were
some of Mr. Douglas's doctrines that a genius alone might
put them into simple words, for the common people.
The great panacea for the slavery trouble put forth by
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 nots and also decide for themselves all othef
. 148
THE CRISIS 24Q
questions under the Constitution. Unhappily for Mr
Douglas, there was the famous Dred Scott decision, which
had set the South wild with joy the year before, and had
cast a gloom over the North. The Chief Justice of the
United States had declared that under the Constitution
slaves were property,- — and as such every American citi=
zen owning slaves could carry them about with him where=
ever he went. Therefore the territorial legislatures might
pass laws until they were dumb, and yet their settlers
might bring with them all the slaves they pleased.
And yet we must love the Judge. He was a gentleman^
a strong man, and a patriot. He was magnanimous, and
to his immortal honor be it said that he, in the end, won
the greatest of all struggles. He conquered himself 3 He
put down that mightiest thing that was in him, —his
ambition for himself. And he set up, instead, his ambi-
tion for his country. He bore no ill-will toward the man
whose fate was so strangely linked to his, and who finally
came to that high seat of honor and of martyrdom which he
coveted. We shall love the Judge, and speak of him with
reverence, for that sublime act of kindness before the Capi-
tol in 1861.
Abraham Lincoln might have prayed on that day of
the Freeport debate : " Forgive him, Lord. He knows
not what he does." Lincoln descried the danger afar^
and threw his body into the breach.
That which passed before Stephens eyes, and to which
his ears listened at Freeport, was the Great Republic
pressing westward to the Pacific. He wondered whether
some of his Eastern friends who pursed their lips wheE
the West was mentioned would have sneered or prayed:
A young English nobleman who was there that day did
not sneer. He was filled instead with something like awe
at the vigor of this nation which was sprung from the
loins of his own. Crudeness he saw, vulgarity he heard.,
but Force he felt, and marvelled,
America was in Freeport that day, the rush of her peo
pie and the surprise of her climate. The rain had ceased,
150 THE CEISIS
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 sky, 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 suddenly immortal* The county
delegations fell into their proper precedence like minis-
ters at a state dinner. " We have faith in Abraham, Yet
another County for the Hail-splitter, Abe the G-ianUkiller™
= so the banners read. Here, much bedecked, was the
G-alena Lincoln Club? part of Joe Davies's shipment.
Fifes skirled, and drums throbbed, and the stars and
stripes snapped 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
county, 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 its way.
The girls link on to Lincoln / their mothers were for 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 them was
for Abraham, who called them 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 boyso But the appealing inscription she bore, " Set
me free I " was greeted with storms of laughter, the boldest
THE CEISIS m
<yi the young men shouting that she was too beautiful to
be free, and some of the old men, to their shame be it said,
likewise shouted. No false embarrassment troubled Kan
saso She was openly pleased. But the young men who
had brought their sweethearts to town, and were standing
hand in hand with them, for obvious reasons saw nothing.
They scarcely dared to look at Kansas, and those who did
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 world, were ]>y far
the most absorbing to Stephen. He watched them having
their fortunes told, the young women blushing and crying,
* Say I " anc> " Ain't he wicked ? " and the young 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 in unison. Or he glanced sidewise at them, seated
in the open places with the world so far below them that
even the insistent sound of the fifes and drums rose but
faintly to their ears.
And perhaps, — - we shall not say positively, — perhaps
Mr. Brice's thoughts went something like this, " O that
ove were so simple a matter to all ! " But graven on his
race was what is called the " Boston scorn, H And no scorn
las been known like unto it since the days of Athens.
So Stephen made the best of his way to the Brewster
Bouse, the elegance and newness of which the citizens of
ETreeport openly boasted. Mr0 Lincoln had preceded him,
and was even then listening to a few remarks of burning
jraise by an honorable gentleman0 Mr, Lincoln himself
made a few remarks, 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 listem Then Mr. Lincoln went into the hotel9
and the sun slipped under a black cloudo
The lobby was full, and rather dirty, since the supply
of spittoons was so far behind the demand. Like the fir-
snament, it was divided into little bodies which revolved
152 THE CRISIS
about larger bodies. But there lacked not here supporters
of the Little Giant, and discreet farmers of influence in
their own counties who waited to hear the afternoon's
debate before deciding. These and others did not hesitate
to tell of the magnificence of the Little Giant's torchlight
procession the previous evening. Every Dred-Scottite had
carried a torch, and many transparencies, so that the very
glory of it had turned night into day. The Chief Lictoi
had distributed these torches with an unheard-of liberality.
But there lacked not detractors who swore that John Dib-
ble an •"! other Lincolnites had applied for torches for the
mere pleasure of carrying them. Since dawn the delega«
tions had been heralded from the house-tops, and wagered
on while they were yet as worms far out or the prairie,
All the morning these continued to come in, and form in
line to march, past their particular candidate. The second
great event of the day was the event of the special ovei
the Galena road, of sixteen cars and more than a thousand
pairs of sovereign lungs. With military precision they
repaired to the Brewster House, and ahead of them a
banner was flung : " Winnebago County for the Tall
Sucker. " And the Tall Sucker was on the steps to receive
them.
But Mr. Douglas, who had arrived the evening before
to the booming 01 two and thirty guns, had his banners
and his bunting, too. The neighborhood of Freeport was
a stronghold of Northern Democrats, ardent supporters of
the Little Giant if once they could believe that he did not
intend to betray them.
Stephen felt in his bones the coming of a struggle, and
was thrilled- Once he smiled at the thought that he had!
become an active partisan — nay, a worshipper — of the un-
couth Lincoln. Terrible suspicion for a Bostonian, - — had
he been carried away ? Was his hero, after all, a homespun
demagogue ? Had he been wise in deciding before he had
caught a glimpse of the accomplished Douglas, 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 man of the world
THE CEISIS 152
whom he had not yet seen. In his note book he had made
a copy of the Question, and young Mr, Hill discovered bin.
pondering in a corner of the lobby at dinner-time, Aftei
dinner they went together to their candidate's room, They
found the doors open and the place packed, and there was
Mr. Lincoln's very tall hat towering above those of the
other politicians pressed around him, Mr, Lincoln took
three strides in Stephen's direction and seized hhn by
the shoulder,
" Why, Steve," said he, " I thought you had got away
again." Turning to a big burly man with a good-natured
face, who was standing by, he added : " Jim, I want you to
look out for this young man. Get him a seat on the standi
where he can hear."
Stephen stuck close to Jim, He never knew what the
gentleman's last name was, or whether he had any. It
was but a few minutes' walk to the grove where the speak=
ing was to be. And as they made their way thither Mr.
Lincoln passed them in a Conestoga wagon drawn by six
milk-white horses, Jim informed Stephen that the Little
Giant had had a six-horse coach. The grove was black
with people. Hovering about the hem of the crowd were
ihe sunburned young men in their Sunday best, still
clinging fast to the hands of the young women, Bands
olared " Columbia, Gem of the Ocean." Fakirs planted
their stands in the way, selling pain killers and ague cures,
watermelons and lemonade. Jugglers juggled, and beg-
gars begged* Jim said that there were sixteen thousand
people in that grove, And he told the truth.
Stephen now trembled for his champion, He tried to
think of himself as fifty years old, with the courage to
address sixteen thousand people on such a day, and
quailed, What a man of affairs it must take to do that I
Sixteen thousand people, into each of whose breasts God
had put different emotions and convictions I He had
aever even imagined such a crowd as this assembled
merely to listen to a political debate. But then he re-
membered, as they dodged from in front of the horses,
mat it was not merely a political debate . The pulse of a
154 THE CRISIS
nation was here, a great nation stricken with approach-
ing fever. It was not now a case of excise, but of 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 ali
through the afternoon and listen with pathetic eagerness
to this debate, must be moved by a patriotism divine. In
the breast of that farmer, in the breast of his tired wife
who held her child by the hand, had been instilled from
birth that sublime fervor which is part of their life who
inherit the Declaration of Independence. Instinctively
these men who had fought and Avon the West had scented
the danger. With the spirit of their ancestors who had
left their farms to die on the bridge at Concord, or
follow Ethan Allen into Ticondercga, these had come to
Freeport. What were three days of bodily dis?omfort I
What even the loss of part of a cherished crop, if the
nation's existence were at stake and their votes might
save it I
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 way for him. And when they did not, he
made it with his big body. As they drew near their
haven, 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 wits, a fierce battle was raging about him. Abolition-
ist and Democrat, Free Soiler and Squatter Sov, defaced
one another in 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
after him. 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 pencil to wave him a friendly
greeting.
THE CEISIS 155
Stephen, craning in his seat, caught sight of Mr. Lincoln
slouched into one of his favorite attitudes, his chin resting
in his hand.
But who is this, erect, compact, aggressive, searching
with a confident eye the wilderness of upturned faces?
A personage, truly, to be questioned timidty, to be
approached advisedly. Here indeed was a lion, by the
very look of him, master of himself and of others. By
reason of its regularity and masculine strength, a hand-
some face. A man of the world to the cut of the coat
across the broad shoulders. Here was one to lift a
youngster into the realm of emulation, like a character
in a play, to arouse dreams of Washington and its senators
and great men. For this was one to be consulted by the
great alone. A figure of dignity and power, with mag^
netism to compel moods. Since, when he smiled, you
warmed in spite of yourself, and when he frowned the
world looked grave.
The inevitable comparison was come, and Stephen's
hero was shrunk once more. He drew a deep breath,
searched for the word, and gulped. There was but the
one word. How country Abraham Lincoln looked beside
Stephen Arnold Douglas !
Had the Lord ever before made and set over against
each other two such different men ? Yes, for such are the
ways of the Lord.
*********
The preliminary speaking was in progress, but Stephen
neither heard nor saw until he felt the heavy hand of his
companion on his knee*
"There's something mighty strange, like fate, between
them two," he was saying. " I recklect twenty-five years
ago when they was first in the Legislatur' together. A
man told me that they was both admitted to practice in
the S'preme Court in '39, on the same day, sir. Then yom
know they was nip an" tuck after the same young lady,
Abe got her6 They've been in Congress together, the
Little Giant in the Senate, and now, here they be in the
greatest set of debates the people of this state ever heard
156 THE CKISIS
Young man, the hand of fate is in this here, mark my
words — "
There was a hush, and the waves of that vast human
sea were stilled. A man, — lean, angular, with coat-tails
flapping — unfolded like a grotesque figure at a side-show.
No confidence was there. Stooping forward, Abraham
Lincoln began to speak, and Stephen Brice hung his head,
and shuddered. Could this shrill falsetto be the same
voice to which he had listened only that morning? Could
this awkward, yellow man with his hands behind his back
be he whom he had worshipped ? Ripples of derisive
laughter rose here and there, on the stand and from the
crowd* Thrice distilled was the agony of those moments i
But what was this feeling that gradually crept over
him ? Surprise ? Cautiously he raised his eyes. The
hands were coming around to the frontc Suddenly one
of them was thrown sharply back, with a determined ges-
ture, the head was raised, — and — * and his shame was for-
gotten. In its stead wonder was come. But soon he lost
even that, for his mind was gone on a journey. And
when again he came to himself and looked upon Abraham
Lincoln, this was a man transformed. The voice was no
longer shrill. Nay, it was now a powerful instrument
which played strangely on those who heard. Now it rose9
and again it fell into tones so low as to start a stir which
spread and spread, like a ripple in a pond, until it broke
on the very edge of that vast audience.
" Can the people of a United States Territory, in any law-
fid way, against the wish of any citizen of the United States*
exclude slavery from it8 limits prior to the formation of a
State Constitution $ <"
It was out, at last, irrevocably writ in the recording book
of History, for better, for worse. Beyond the reach of
politician, committee, or caucus. But what man amongst
those who heard and stirred might say that these minutes
even now hasting into eternity held the Crisis of a nation
that is the hope of the world ? Not you, Judge Douglas,
who sit there smiling. Consternation is a stranger m
your heart9 — but answer that Question if you can* Yes^
THE CEISIS 15?
your nimble wit has helped you out of many a tight cor^
ner. You do not feel the noose — as yet. You do not
guess that your reply will make or mar the fortunes of
your country. It is not you who can look ahead two short
years and see the ship of Democracy splitting on the rocks
at Charleston and at Baltimore, when the power of your
name might have steered her safely.
But see I what is this man about whom you despise ?
One by one he is taking the screws out of the engine
which you have invented to run your ship. Look, he
holds them in his hands without mixing them, and shows
the false construction of its secret parts.
For Abraham Lincoln dealt with abstruse questions in
language so limpid that many a farmer, dulled by toil,
heard and understood and marvelled. The simplicity of
the Bible dwells in those speeches, and they are now clas-
sics in our literature. And the wonder in Stephen's mind
was that this man who could be a buffoon, whose speech
was coarse and whose person unkempt, could prove him=
self a tower of morality and truth. That has troubled
many another, before and since the debate at Freeport.
That short hour came all too quickly to an end. And
as the Moderator gave the signal for Mr. Lincoln, it was
Stephen's big companion who snapped the strain, and
voiced the sentiment of those about him.
" By Gosh ! " he cried, " he baffles Steve. I didn't think
Abe had it in him."
The Honorable Stephen A. Douglas, however, seemed
anything but baffled as he rose to reply. As he waited
for the cheers which greeted him to die out, his atti-
tude was easy and indifferent, as a public man's should
be. The Question seemed not to trouble him in the least,
But for Stephen Brice the Judge stood there stripped of
the glamour that made him, even as Abraham Lincoln had
stripped his doctrine of its paint and colors, and left it
puniiy nakedc
Standing up, the very person of the Little Giant was
contradictory, as was the man himself. His height was
insignificant, But he had the head and shoulders of a
158 THE CRISIS
lion, and even the lion's roarQ What a contrast the ribg
of his deep bass to the tentative falsetto of Mr* Lincoln's
opening words I 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
Ms opponents warnings, he made them gape by putting
things down Mre 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 Republicans5' "Not blacky
came from the crowd again and again, and once a man
shouted, "Couldn't you modify it and call it brown V
[' Not a whit ! " cried the Judge, and dubbed them M Yan
kees," although himself a Vermonter by birth* He implied
that most of these Black Republicans desired negro
wiveso
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 artful 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 seer, this ugly Lin
eoln bareheaded before the Nation, and yen are holding
Ms 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
tumble, and so you left the name of a patriot
Judge, you thought there was a passage between Scylla
mp.d Charjbdig mi: oh your craftiness might overcome.
THE CKISIS 10ft
- It matters noV you cried when you answered the Ques
ilcn, M .it matters not which way the Supreme Court ma y
hereafter decide as to the abstract question whether
slavery may or may not go into a territory under the
Constitution The people have the lawful means to intro=
duce or to exclude it as they please, for the reason that
slavery cannot exist a day or an hour anywhere unless it
is supported by local police regulations,"
Judge Douglas, uneasy will you He to night? for you
have uttered the Freeport Heresy*
It only remains to be told how Stephen Brice, coming
to the Brewster House after the debate, found Mr3 Lin=
coin. On his knee, in transports of delight, was a small
boy* and Mr, Lincoln was serenely playing on the child's
Jew?s-harp, Standing beside him was a proud father who
had dragged his son across two counties in a farm wagony
and who was to return on the morrow to enter this event
In the family Bible, In a corner of the room were sev-
eral impatient gentlemen of influence who wished to talk
about the Question,
But when he saw Stephen, Mr. Lincoln looked up with
a smile of welcome that is still, and ever will be, remem-
bered and cherishedo
"Tell Judge Whipple ttat I have attended to that
little matter, Steve,?' he said.
" Why^ Mr. Lincoln," he exclaimed, *€ you have had no
time/"
*'I have taken the time," Mr, Lincoln replied, "and I
think that I am well repaid. Steve," said he, u unless I'm
mightily mistaken, you know a little more than you did
yesterday."
M Yes, sir ; I do," said Stephen.
" Come, Steve," said Mr. Lincoln, u be honest= Didn5^
you feel sorry for me last night ? M
Stephen flushed scarlet.
M I never shall again, sir," he said.
The wonderful smile, so ready to come and go, flickereJ,
m.& went out In its stead on the strange face was inetXa
160 THE CRISIS
He sadness, — the sadness of the world's tragedies Of
Stephen stoned, of Christ crucifiede
66 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.
64 1 have hopes of you, Stephen/' he said, ^ Do not for-
get me."
Stephen Brice never hasQ 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
coin 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 rr lied a local bully in the dirt ; rescued women from
insult tended the bedside of many a sick coward who
f°ared the Judgment ; told coarse stories on barrels by
candlelight (but these are pure beside the vice of great
eiti ^s) ; 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 ; whose 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 cures9 and when Hig
work was done* died a Martyr.
Abraham Lincoln died in His name^
CHAPTER VI
GLENCOE
L'l was nearly noon when Stephen walked into the office
the next day, dusty and travel -worn and perspiring, He
had come straight from the ferry, without going home.
And he had visions of a quiet dinner with Richter under
the trees at the beer-garden, where he could talk about
Abraham Lincclnc Had Richter ever heard of Lincoln ?
But the young German met him at the top of the stairs,
and his face was more serious than usual, although he
showed his magnificent teeth in a smile of welcome,
" You are a little behind your time, my friend/' said he.
u What has happened you ? "
" Didn't the Judge get Mr, Lincoln's message ? n asked
Stephen, with anxiety.
The German shrugged his shoulders,
" Ah, I know not," he answered, " He has gone tc
Gleneoe, The Judge is ill, Stephen. Doctor Polk says
that he has worked all his life too hard. The Doctor and
Colonel Carvel tried to get him to go to Glencoe, But
he would not budge until Miss Carvel herself comes all the
way from the country yesterday, and orders him, Ach !
exclaimed Richter, impulsively, " what wonderful womer
you have in America! I could lose my head when !
think of Miss Carvel."
" Miss Carvel was here, you say ? n Stephen repeated, in
a tone of inquiry.
"Donner!" said Richter, disgusted, "you don't care/'"
Stephen laughed, in spite of himself.
w Why should I ? " he answered. And becoming grav«
again, added? "Except on Judge Whipple's account-
Have you heard from him to-day, Carl ? "
a This morning one of Colonel Carvel's servants canod
162 THE CRISIS
lor 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.'5
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 deep 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 corn-
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 breaths of the sweet air of the Meramec V alley c
GLENCOE 163
There had been a shower, and the sun glistened on the
drops on grass and flowers, and the great trees hung heavy-
over the clay road. At last they came to a white gate in
the picket fence, in sight of a rambling wooden house with
a veranda in front covered with honeysuckle. And then
he saw the Colonel, in white marseilles, smoking a cigar.
This, indeed, was real country.
As Stephen trod the rough flags between the high grass
which led toward the house, Colonel Carvel rose to his full
height and greeted him.
" You are very welcome, sir," he said gravely. " The
Judge is asleep now," he added. " I regret to say that we
had a little argument this morning, and my daughter tells
me it will be well not to excite him again to-day. Jinny
is reading to him now, or she would be here to entertain
you, Mr. Brice. Jackson ! " cried Mr. Carvel, " show Mr.
Brice to his room."
Jackson appeared hurriedly, seized Stephen's bag, and
led the way upstairs 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 of
the railroad upon him, and descended. The Colonel 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 hand offered one to Stephen.
" Your health, Mr. Brice," he said, " and I hope you will
feel at home here, sir. Jackson will bring you anything
you desire, and should you wish to drive, I shall be de-
lighted 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
on Stephen's part was needed to perceive that this was
Mr. Carvel's hobby.
164 THE CRISIS
u I used to have a stable, Mr. Brice, before they nftne£
gentleman's sport with these trotters ten years ago. Yes9
sir, we used to be at Lexington one week, and Louisville
the next, and over here on the Ames track after thato
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, who 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 hereQ
He wore my yellow and green, 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 ! " 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 off 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."
" Pa ! "
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 wer$
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,"
she said- " Has he told you what a jockey Ned used to b®
GLENCOE 165
before he weighed one hundred and a quarter ? " (A laugh.)
" Has he given you the points of Water Witch and Netty
Boone?" (More laughter, increasing embarrassment for
Stephen.) "Pa, I tell you once more that you will
drive every guest from this house. Your jockey talk is
intolerable."
O that you might have a notion of the way in which
Virginia pronounced intolerable.
Mr. Carvel reached for another cigar. " My dear," he
asked, " how is the Judge ? "
"My dear," said Virginia, smiling, "he is asleep.
Mammy Easter is with him, trying to make out what he
is saying. He talks in his sleep, just as you do — "
" And what is he saying ? " demanded the Colonel,
interested.
Virginia set down the tray.
" 4 A house divided against itself,' " said Miss Carvel, with
a sweep of her arm, " 4 cannot stand. I believe that this
Government cannot endure permanently, half slave and
half free. I do not expect the Union to dissolve — I do
not expect the house to fall — - but I do expect it will cease
to be divided.' Would you like any more?" added Miss
Virginia.
"No," cried the Colonel, and banged his fist down on
the table. "Why," said he, thoughtfully, stroking the
white goatee on his chin, " cuss me if that ain't from the
speech that country bumpkin, Lincoln, made in June last
before the Black Republican convention in Illinois."
Virginia broke again into laughter. And Stephen was
very near it, for he loved the Colonel. That gentleman
suddenly checked himself in his tirade, and turned to him,
" I beg your pardon, sir," he said ; " I reckon that you
have the same political sentiments as the Judge. Believe
me, sir, I would not willingly offend a guest."
Stephen smiled. " I am not offended, sir," he said. A
speech which caused Mr. Carvel to bestow a quick glance
upon him. But Stephen did not see it. He was looking
at Virginia.
The Colonel rose.
166 THE CRISIS
" You will pardon my absence for a while, sir," he said
"My daughter will entertain you."
In 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, after 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 he0
64 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 silento"
"It is mostly prudence," said Mr. Bricec "Prudence
is our dominant trait."
Virginia fidgeted. Usually she had an easier time.
"You have not always shown it," she said, with ar>
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
awered. " We are still capable of action."
GLENCOE 161
" On occasions 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 wTas 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 would
have given it up. But Virginia thought it would be
delightful to bring this particular Yankee to his knees5
and — and leave him there.
" Mr. Brice," she said, " I have not spoken to you since
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 !
" They did not tell you ! " 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 opportune:
168 THE CKISIS
to tell you how much I enjoyed myself. I have found
everybody in St. Louis very kind 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 his vanity had receiver
" 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 Sto
Louis. He could not comprehend her cruelty. But, 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, witl*
the pedigree and performance of every horse he had had
in his stable. And this was a relief, as it gave him ai\
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 rnore.
They were not her particular friends, to be sure. But
they called on her and danced with her, and she had shown
them not the least antipathy. But it was to Stephen's
credit that he did not analyse furth°rc
GLENCOE 169
He was reflecting on these things when he got to his
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 go, 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'iies 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 lawns9
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 young
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 to
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 hand, "I
reckon we talked too much yesterday."
170 THE CEISIS
46 No such thing, Carvel," said the Judge, f orciblyo i( £i
you hadn't left the room, your popular sovereignty would
kave 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,
44 Colonel Carvel," said she, sternly, " I am the doctors
deputy here I was told to keep the peace at any cost
And if you answer back, out you go, like that I '" 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. Briee?'*
44 He took me to Freeport, sir, where I listened to the
most remarkable speech I ever expect to hear."
" What ! " 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,
M I was very much surprised, sir," he said.
" Humph ! " grunted Mr. Whipple, " and what did you
think of that ruffian, Lincoln ? "
68 He is the most remarkable man that I have ever met;
sir," answered Stephen, with emphasis
"Humph!"
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,
64 You must agree with that laudatory estimation of him
which I read in the Missouri Democrat*"
Stephen fidgeted.
** I do, sir, most decidedly," he answeredo
&LENCOE W
a shouid hardly expect a conservative Bostonian, &(
due class which respects property, to have said that. I*
might possibly be a good thing if more from your tow?;
Gould hear those debates/7
M They will read them, sir* I feel confident 01 it.*
At this point the Colonel could contain himself no
longei
M I reckon I might tell the man who wrote that Democrat
article a few things, if 1 could find out who he is^7* said he.
i( Pa I " said Virginia, warningly.
But Stephen had turned a fiery red,
M I wrote it, Colonel Carvel,77 he saido
For a dubious instant of silence Colonel Carvei stared.
Then — then he slapped his knees, broke into a storm of
laughter, and went out of the room, He left Stephen m
a moist state of discomfiture.
The Judge had bolted upright from the pillows.
" You have been neglecting your law, sir," he cried.
' I wrote the article at night," said Stephen, indig
nantly.
"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 o notice of hero But
being a young woman, and a pretty one, Stephen was
angry,
* I don't see what r:s;ht you have to ask me tib&& sir,
he said.
" The question is withdrawn, Mr. Brice," said the Judge,
i4 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 was with apprehension that he discerned Ml 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.
u Stephen," said he, " there will be no law until Monday
tfi THE CRISIS
You must stay with us until then, A little rest will do
you good=*?
Stephen was greatly touched.
"Thank you, sir," he said. "I should like to very
much. But I can't."
" Nonsense," said the Colonel. " I won't let the Judge
interfere."
"It isn't that, sir. I shall have to go by the two
o'clock train, I fear."
The Colonel turned to Virginia, who, meanwhile, had
sat silently by.
" Jinny," he said, " we must contrive to keep him."
She slid off the railing.
" I'm afraid he is determined, Pa," she answered,
M But perhaps Mr. Brice would like to see a little of the
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
back, where he saw old Uncle Ben busy over the prepara-
tion of his dinner, and frisky Rosetta, his daughter, play-
ing with one of the Colonel's setters. Then Virginia
took a well-worn path, on each side of which the high
grass bent with its load of seed, which entered the wood.
Oaks and hickories and walnuts and persimmons spread
out in a glade, and the wild grape twisted fantastically
around the trunks. All this beauty seemed but a fit set-
ting to the strong girlish figure in the pink frock before him.
So absorbed was he in contemplation of this, and in won-
dering whether indeed she were to marry her cousin,
Clarence Colfax, that he did not see the wonders of view
unrolling in front of him. She stopped at length beside
a great patch of wild rose bushes. They were on the
edge of the bluff, and in front of them a little rustic
summer-house, with seats on its five sides. Here Vir-
ginia sat down. But Stephen, going to the edge, stood
and marvelledc Far, far below him, down the wooded
steep, shot the crystal Meramec, chafing over the shallow
gravel beds and tearing headlong at the deep passes,
GLENCOE ITS
Beyond, the dimpled green hills rose and fell, and tht
stream ran indigo and silver, A hawk soared over the
water, the only living creature in all that wilderness,
The glory of the place stirred his blood. And when at
length he turned, he saw that the girl was watching him,
" It is very beautiful," he said.
Virginia had taken other young men here, and they
had looked only upon her. And yet she was not ofrendecL
This sincerity now was as new to her as that with which
lie had surprised her in the Judge's room.
And she was not quite at her ease. A reply to those
simple words of his was impossible. At honest Tom
Catherwood in the same situation she would have laughedo
Clarence never so much as glanced at scenery. Her
replies to him were either flippant, or else maternal, as to
a child.
A breeze laden with the sweet abundance of that valley
stirred her hair. And with that womanly gesture which
has been the same through the ages she put up her hand3
deftly tucking in the stray wisp behind.
She glanced at the New Englander, against whom she
had been in strange rebellion since she had first seen him.
His face, thinned by the summer in town, was of the
sternness of the Puritan. Stephen's features were sharply
marked for his age. The will to conquer was there. Yet
justice was in the mouth, and greatness of heart. Con-
science was graven on the broad forehead. The eyes
were the blue gray of the flint, kindly yet imperishable,
The face was not handsome.
Struggling, then yielding to the impulse, Virginia let
herself be led on into the years. Sanity was the word
fchat best described him. She saw him trusted of men,
honored of women, feared by the false. She saw him in
high places, simple, reserved, poised evenly as he was now,
" Why do you go in this afternoon ? " she asked
abruptly.
He started at the change in her tone.
66 1 wish that I might stay," he said regretfully 0 " But
2 cannot, Miss Carvel-"
174 THE CRISIS
He gave no reason. And she was too proud to ask it:
Never before had she stooped to urge young men 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
tried to conquer whatever it was that set her against him,
and had failed through him.
" You must find the city attractive. Perhaps," she
added, with a little laugh, "perhaps it is Bellefontaine
Road."
" 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,'5
he 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.
She would have liked to question Stephen on this former
life. But she changed the subject suddenly.
"What did you really think of Mr. Lincoln?" she
asked.
" I thought him the ugliest man I ever saw, and the
handsomest as well."
" But you admired him ? "
" Yes," said Stephen, gravely.
"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. 4I 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 thing
or all the other."
Virginia laughed. " That seemed to me very equivo-
cal," said she. " Your rail-splitter is well named."
"Will you read the rest of that speech?'5 he asked.
GLENCOE Tit
u Judge Whipple is very clever. He has made a convert
of you," she answered.
"The Judge has had nothing to do with it," cried
Stephen. " He is not given to discussion with me, and
until I went to Springfield he had never mentioned Mr.
Lincoln's name to me."
Glancing at her, he surprised a sparkle of amusement
in her eyes. Then she laughed openly.
" Why do you suppose that you were sent to Spring-
field ? " she asked.
" With an important communication for Mr. Lincoln/'
he answered.
" And that most important communication was — your-
self. There, now, I have told you," said Virginia.
" Was myself ? I don't understand."
Virginia puckered her lips.
" Then you haven't the sense I thought you had," she
replied impatiently. " Do you know what was in that note ?
No ? Well, a year ago last June this Black Republican
lawyer whom you are all talking of made a speech
before a convention in Illinois. Judge Whipple has been
crazy on the subject ever since — he talks of Lincoln in
his sleep ; he went to Springfield and spent two da}^s with
him, and now he can't rest until you have seen and known
and heard him. So he writes a note to Lincoln and asks
him to take you to the debate — "
She paused again to laugh at his amazement.
"But he told me to go to Springfield !" he exclaimed,
" He told you to find Lincoln. He knew that you
would obey his orders, I suppose."
"But I didn't know — " Stephen began, trying to com^
pass within an instant the memory of his year's experience
with Mr. Whipple.
"You didn't know that he thought anything acout
you," said Virginia. " That is his way, Mr. Brice. He
has more private charities on his list than any man in the
city except Mr. Brinsmade. Very few know it. He
thinks a great deal of you. But there," she added, sud-
denly blushing crimson, " I am sorry I told youV'
ltd THE CRISIS
" Why ? ,5 he asked.
She did not answer, but sat tapping the seat with hey
fingers. And when she ventured to look at him, he had
fallen into thought.
44 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, arousec
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 Jolonel
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 idly on
the porch.
" I like that young man, if he is a Yankee," he declared.
" I don't," said Virginia, promptly.
" My 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 you know why he went, my dear ? " asked the
Colonel.
44 No," said Virginia.
44 1 asked him," said the Colonel.
44 Pa ! I did not think it of you I " she cried. And then^
44 What was it ? " she demanded.
44 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 delightc Little did
he guess at Virginia's penance I
CHAPTER VII
AN EXCURSION
I AM going ahead two years. Two years during which
a nation struggled in agony with sickness, and even the
great strength with which she was endowed at birth was
not equal to the task of throwing it off. In 1620 a Dutch
ship had brought from Guinea to his Majesty's Colony of
Virginia the germs of that disease for which the Nation's
blood was to be let so freely. During these years signs
of dissolution, of death, were not wanting.
In the city by the Father of Waters where the races
met, men and women were born into the world, who were
to die in ancient Cuba, who were to be left fatherless in
the struggle soon to come, who were to live to see new
monsters rise to gnaw at the vitals of the Republic, and
to hear again the cynical laugh of Europe. But they
were also to see their country a power in the world, per-
chance the greatest power. While Europe had wrangled,
the child of the West had grown into manhood and taken
a seat among the highest, to share with them the response
bilities of manhood.
Meanwhile, Stephen Brice had been given permission tc
practise law in the sovereign state of Missouri. Stephen
understood Judge Whipple better. It cannot be said that
he was intimate with that rather formidable personage,
although the Judge, being a man of habits, had formed
that of taking tea at least once a week with Mrs. Brice.
Stephen had learned to love the Judge, and he had never
ceased to be grateful to him for a knowledge of that man
who had had the most influence upon his life, — Abraham
Lincoln.
For the seed, sowed in wisdom and self-denial, was
N 177
178 THE CEISIS
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 Mectra. 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 different 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 pony 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
Miss 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 c But oncev
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 the gray eyes which
was not to be withstoodc
AN EXCURSION ITS
u Making a case, Brice ? " he said. ' I hear you are
the kind that cannot be idle even on a holiday."
"Not as bad as all that/5 replied Stephen, smiling at
him.
" Reckon you keep a diary, then," said Clarence, lean-
ing against the rail. He made a remarkably graceful
figure, Stephen thought. He was tall, and his move-
,ments had what might be called a commanding indolence,
Stephen, while he smiled, could not but admire the tone
and gesture with which Colfax bade a passing negro to
get him a handkerchief from his cabin. The alacrity of
the black to do the errand was amusing enough. Stephen
well kxiew it had not been such if he wanted a handkerchief.,
Stephen said it was not a diary. Mr. Colfax was too
well bred to inquire further; so he never found out that
Mr. Brice was writing an account of the Convention and
the speechmaking for the Missouri Democrat.
44 Brice," said the Southerner, " I want to apologize for
things I've done to you and said about you. I hated you
for a long time after you beat me out of Hester, and — "
he hesitated.
Stephen looked up. For the first time he actually liked
Colfax. He had been long enough among Colfax's people
to understand how difficult it was for him to say the thing
he wished.
44 You may remember a night at my uncle's, Colonel
Carvel's, on the occasion of my cousin's birthday ? "
44 Yes," said Stephen, in surprise.
"Well," blurted Clarence, boyishly, "I was rude to
you in my uncle's house, and I have since been sorry."
He held out his hand, and Stephen took it warmly.
44 1 was younger then, Mr. Colfax," he said, " and I
didn't understand your point of view as well as I do
now. Not that I have changed my ideas," he added
quickly, "but the notion of the girl's going South an-
gered me. I was bidding against the dealer rather than
against you. Had I then known Miss Carvel — " he
stopped abruptly.
The winning expression died from the face of the other,
180 THE CRISIS
He turned away, and leaning across the rail, stared at the
high bluffs, red-bronzed by the autumn sun. A score
of miles beyond that precipice was a long low building
of stone, surrounded by spreading trees, — the school
for young ladies, celebrated throughout the West, where
our mothers and grandmothers were taught, — MonticellOc
Thither Miss Virginia Carvel had gone, some thirty days
since, 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 of the great wheels broke
the silence. They were both startled by laughter at
their shoulders. There stood Miss Russell, the picture
of merriment, her arm locked in Anne Brinsmade's.
"It is the hour when ail devout worshippers turn
towards the East," she said. " The goddess is enshrined
at Monticello."
Both young 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.
44 Was I not right, Mr. Brice ? " she demanded. " Why
you are even writing verses to her ! "
44 1 scarcely know Miss Carvel," he said, recovering.
44 And as for writing verse — "
4; 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.
44 He always acts like that when you mention her/' she
said.
44 But you are so cruel, Puss," said Anne. "You can*?
blame him."
44 Hairpins ! w said Miss RusselL
AK EXCURSION 181
* Isn't she to marry him ? " said Stephen, in nis natura^
voice.
He remembered his pronouns too late.
" That has been the way of the world ever since Adam
and Eve," remarked Puss. " I suppose you meant to ask9
Mr. Brice, whether Clarence is to marry Virginia Carvel.75
Anne nudged her.
" My dear, what will Mr. Brice think of us ? "
"Listen, Mr. Brice," Puss continued, undaunted. "I
shall tell you some gossip. Virginia was sent to Monti
cello, and went with her father to Kentucky and Pennsyl-
vania this summer, that she might be away from Clarence
Colfax."
" Oh, Puss ! * cried Anne.
Miss Russell paid not the slightest heed,
"Colonel Carvel is right," she went on. "I should do
the same thing. They are first cousins, and the Colonel
doesn't like that. I am fond of Clarence. But he isn't
good for anything in the world except horse racing and
—•and fighting. He wanted to help drive the Black
Republican emigrants out of Kansas, and his mother had
to put a collar and chain on him. He wanted to go fili=
bustering with Walker, and she had to get down on her
knees. And yet," she cried, " if you Yankees push us as
far as war, Mr. Brice, just look out for him."
M But — " Anne interposed.
" Oh, I know what you are going to say, — that Clarence
has money."
" Puss ! " cried Anne, outraged. " How dare you ! "
Miss Russell slipped an arm around her waist.
"Come, Anne," she said, "we mustn't interrupt the
Senator any longer. He is preparing his maiden speech."5
That was the way in which Stephen got his nickname.
It is scarcely necessary to add that he wrote no more until
he reached his little room in the house on Olive Street.
They had passed Alton, and the black cloud that hung
in the still autumn air over the city was in sight. It was
dusk when the Jackson pushed her nose into the levee, and
the song of the negro stevedores rose from below as they
182 THE CRISIS
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 he 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 Ki 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 he 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 ! " cried astonished Anne. M She
tkates him I "
64 She thinks she hates him,5? said Miss Russell, calmljc
AN EXCURSION 183
Anne looked up at her companion admiringly. Her
two heroines were Puss and Virginia. Both had the same
kind of daring, but in Puss the trait had developed into
a somewhat disagreeable outspokenness which made man}7
people dislike her. Pier 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 ail 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, breathless.
"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 evening.
I asked Easter where Jinny was, and I found her — -"
" You found her — ? " said Anne.
" Sitting alone in the summer-house over the riverc
Easter said she had been there for two hours. And J
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.
' r You know that I was her room-mate at Monticello last
year, and I think I should have discovered it."
" Did she speak of him ? " demanded Miss Russell.
" Only when the subject was mentioned. I heard he*
repeat once what Judge Whipple told her father of himT
— that he had a fine legal mind. He was often in my
letters from home, because they have taken Pa's house nex*
184 THE CRISIS
door, and because Pa likes them. I used to read those
letters to Jinny," said Anne, "but she never expressed
any desire to hear them."
" I, too, used to write Jinny about him," confessed Puss.
" Did she answer your letter ? "
" No," replied Miss Puss, " but that was just before the
holidays, you remember. And then the Colonel hurried
her off to see her Pennsylvania relatives, and I believe
they went to Annapolis, too, where the Carvels come
from."
Stephen, sitting in the next house, writing out his
account, little dreamed that he was the subject of a con-
ference in the third story front of the Brinsmades'. Later,
when the young ladies were asleep, he carried his manu-
script to the Democrat office, and delivered it into the
hands of his friend, the night editor, who was awaiting it.
Toward the end of that week, Miss Virginia Carvel was
sitting with her back to one of the great trees at Monti-
cello reading a letter. Every once in a while she tucked
it under her cloak and glanced hastily around. It was
from Miss Anne Brinsmade.
" I have told you all about the excursion, my dear, and
how we missed you. You may remember " (ah, Anne,
the guile there is in the best of us), " you may remember
Mr. Stephen Brice, whom we used to speak of. Pa and
Ma take a great interest in him, and Pa had him invited
on the excursion. He is more serious than ever, since he
has become a full-fledged lawyer. But he has a dry
humor which comes out when you know him well, of
which I did not suspect him. His mother is the dearest
lady I have ever known, so quiet, so dignified, and so well
bred. They come in to supper very often. And the
other night Mr. Brice told Pa so many things about the
people south of Market Street, the Germans, which he
did not know, that Pa was astonished. He told all about
German history, and how they were persecuted at home,,
and why they came here. Pa was surprised to hear that
many of them were University men, and that they were
,ii 3ady organizing to defend the Union. I heard Pa say^
AN EXCUKSION l&j
<That is what Mr. Blair meant when he assured nie that
we need not fear for the city.'
" Jinny dear, I ought not to have written you this, be^
cause you are for Secession, and in your heart you think
Pa a traitor, because he comes from a slave state and
has slaves of his own. But I shall not tear it up.
'i "It is sad to think how rich Mrs. Brice was when she
lived in Boston, and what she has had to come to. One
servant and a little house, and no place to go to in the
summer, when they used to have such a large one. I often
go in to sew with her, but she has never once mentioned
her past to me.
" Your father has no doubt sent you the Democrat with
the account of the Convention. It is the fullest published,
by far, and was so much admired that Pa asked the editor
who wrote it. Who do you think, but Stephen Brice !
So now Pa knows why Mr. Brice hesitated when Pa
asked him to go up the river, and then consented. This
is not the end. Yesterday, when I went in to see Mrs.
Brice, a new black silk was on her bed, and as long as I
live I shall never forget how sweet was her voice when
sshe said, 4It is a surprise from my son, my dear. I did
not expect ever to have another.' Jinny, I just know he
bought it with the money he got for the article. That
was what he was writing on the boat when Clarence Col-
jfax interrupted him. Puss accused him of writinp verses
•to you."
At this point Miss Virginia Carvel stopped reading.
Whether she had read that part before, who shall say?
But she took Anne's letter between her fingers and tore
it into bits and flung the bits into the wind, so that they
were tossed about and lost among the dead leaves under
the great trees^ And when she reached her room, there
V7as the hated Missouri Democrat lying, still open, on her
table. A little later a great black piece of it came toss-
ing out of the chimney above, to the affright of little M.ss
Brown, teacher of Literature, who was walking in the
grounds, and who ran to the principal's room with the
story that the chimney was afire.
CHAPTER Till '
2SGG S50L0NBL IB WABNEB
Is m difficult to refrain from mention of the leaye-tak
mg 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 Republican about these
ceremonies, which mentioned that Miss Virginia CarveL,
" Daughter of Colonel Corny n 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 all musical instruments,
the human voice." Was it Auld Robin Gray that, she
sang ? I am sure it was Miss 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.'5
The truth was, as he heard afterward from Miss Puss Rus-
sell, that Miss Jinny had 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 with intense interest, a gentleman of whom we hav€
lately forborne to speak. This is Mr. Eliphalet Hopper,
Eliphalet has prospered. It is to be doubted if tha<
somewhat easy-going gentleman, Colonel Carvel, realizec
the full importance of Eliphalet to Carvel & Company
Mr. Hood had been superseded. Ephum still opened th*
store in the mornings, but Mr. Hopper was within the
ground-glass office before the place was warm9 and throng]
188
THE COLONEL IS WARNED 187
^arerooms and shipping rooms, rubbing his hands, to see ii
any were late. Many of the old force were missed, and a
new and greater force were come in. These feared Elipha-
let as they did the devil, and worked the harder to please
him, because Eiiphalet had hired that kind* To them the
Colouel was lifted 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
ground-glass office, called in the book-keeper, and showed
him the books and the increased earnings.
The Colonel thought of Mr. Hood and his slovenly
management, and sighed, in spite of his doubled income.
Mr. Hopper had added to the Company's list of customers
whole districts in the growing Southwest, and yet the
honest Colonel did not like him. Mr. Hopper, by a grad=
ual process, had taken upon his own shoulders, and conse-
quently off the Colonel's, responsibility after responsibility.
There were some painful scenes, of course, such as the
departure of Mr. Hood, which never would have occurred
had not Eiiphalet proved without question the incapacity
of the ancient manager. Mr-. Hopper only narrowed his
lids when the Colonel pensioned Mr. Hood. But the
Colonel had a will before which, when roused, even Mr.
Hopper trembled. So that Eiiphalet was always polite to
Ephum, and careful never to say anything in the darkey's
presence against incompetent clerks or favorite customers,
who, by the charity of the Colonel, remained on his
books.
One spring day, after the sober home-coming of Colonel
Carvel from the Democratic Convention at Charleston,
Ephum accosted his master as he came into the store of a
morning. Ephum's face was working with excitement.
" What's the matter with you, Ephum ? " asked the
Colonel, kindly, " You haven't been yourself lately."
"No, Marsa, I ain't 'zactly."
Ephum put down the duster, peered out of the door ol
the private office, and closed it softly,
'4Marse Comyn?"
^Yes?"
188 THE CRISIS
« Marse Ccmyn, I ain't got no use f o' dat Misteh Hoppa »
Iyse kinder sup'stitious 'bout him, Marsa."
The Colonel put down his newspaper.
* Has he treated you badly, Ephum ? " he asked quietly.
The faithful negro 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 no, suh. And I ain't sayin' nuthin' gin his honesty.
He straight, but he powerful sharp, Marse Comyn. An*
he 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-handedness of the large houses. Competition
Iiad begun, and competition is cruel. Edwards, James, &
Company had taken a Yankee into the firm. They were
iow Edwards, James, & Doddington, and Mr. Edwards's
:oolness towards the Colonel was manliest since the rise
of Eliphalet. They were rivals now instead of friends.
But Cclonel Carvel did not know until after years that
Mr. Hopper had been offered the place which Mr. Dod-
dington tilled later.
As for Mr. Hopper, increase of salary had not changed
him. He still lived in the same humble way, in a single
room in Miss Crane's boarding-house, and he paid very
little more for his board than he had that first week
in which he swept out Colonel Carvel's store. He was
iiperintendent, now, of Mr. Davitt's Sunday School, and
■\ church officer. At night, when he came home from
business, he would read the widow'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 the 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.
Eliphalet's suavity with certain delinquent customers
torn, the Southwest- w-is according to Scripture* Whesa
THE COLONEL IS WARNED 189
they were profane, and invited him into the street, he
reminded them that the city had a police force and a jaiL
While still a young man, he had a manner of folding hia
hands and smiling which is peculiar to capitalists, and he
knew the laws concerning mortgages in several different
states.
But Eliphalet was content still to remain in the sphere
in which Providence had placed him, and so to be an
example for many of us. He did not buy, or even hire,
an evening suit. He was pleased to superintend some of
the details for a dance at Christmas-time before Virginia
left Monticello, but he sat as usual on the stair-landing.
There Mr. Jacob Cluyme (who had been that day in
conversation with the teller of the Boatman's Bank)
chanced upon him. Mr. Cluyme was so charmed at the
facility with which Eliphalet recounted the rise and fail
of sugar and cotton and wheat that he invited Mr.
Hopper to dinner. And from this meal may be reckoned
the first appearance of the family of which Eliphalet
Hopper was the head into polite society. If the Cluyme
household was not polite, it was nothing. Eliphalet sat
next to Miss Belle, and heard the private history of many
old families, which he cherished for future use. Mrs.
Cluyme apologized for the dinner, which (if the truth
were told) needed an apology. All of which is signifi-
cant, but sordid and uninteresting. Jacob Cluyme usually
bought stocks before a rise.
There was only one person who really bothered Elipha-
let as he rose into prominence, and that person was Cap-
tain Elijah Brent. If, upon entering the ground-glass
office, he found Eliphalet without the Colonel, Captain
Lige would walk out again just as if the office were empty.
The inquiries he made were addressed always to Ephum.
Once, when Mr. Hopper had bidden him good morning
and pushed a chair toward him, the honest Captain had
turned his back and marched straight to the house on
Tenth Street, where he found the Colonel alone at break-
fast. The Captain sat down opposite.
" Colonel," said he, without an introduction, " I don't
ISO THE CKISIS
like this here business of letting Hopper run your store
He's a fish, I tell 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 all 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 that fellow ever gets on top of you, or
any one else, he'll grind you into dast."
" He isn't likely to get on top of me, Lige. I know the
business, and keep watch. And now that Jinny's comliig
koine 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 ! " 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
heap of money laid by»"
The Captain shook his head with the vigor that char
$cterized him.
THE COLONEL IS WAKNED 191
a This ain't no time for me to leave," lie said. " Colonel?
I tell you there's a storm comirC"
The Colonel pulled his goatee uneasily o 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, all the way to Monticello, in a
sleigh. It was night when they had reached the school;
the 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 coats
and said tearfully : —
" O Captain Lige ! I shall be so lonely when you are
away. Aren't you going to kiss me?"
He had put his lips to her forehead, driven madly back
to Alton, and spent the night. The first thing he did the
next day when he reached St. Louis was to go straight tc
the Colonel and tell him bluntly of the circumstance.
" Lige, I'd hate to give her up," Mr. Carvel said ; " but
I'd rather you'd marry her than any man I can think of/*
CHAPTER IX
SIGNS OF THE TIMES
Itf that spring of 1860 the time was come for the South
to make her final stand. And as the noise of gathering
conventions shook the ground, Stephen Brice was 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
Stephen.
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 Charleston soberly
and fearing God, as many another Southern gentleman.
In old Saint Michael's they knelt to pray for harmony*
for peace ; for a front bold and undismayed toward those
who wronged them. All through the week chosen orators
wrestled in vain. Judge Douglas, you flattered yourseli
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 Trill have none of you.
Gloomily, indeed, did Colonel Carvel return home. He
loved the Union and the flag for which his grandfather
Richard 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,
SIGNS OF THE TIMES 138
* No, Whipple," said he. " You are a straightforward
man. You can't disguise it. You of the North are bent
upon taking away from us the rights we had when our
fathers formed the Constitution. However the nigger
got to this country, sir, in your Bristol and Newport
traders, as well as in our Virginia and Maryland ships,
he is here, and he was here when the Constitution was
written. He is happier in slavery than are your factory
hands in New England , and he is no more fit to exercise
the solemn rights of citizenship, I say, than the half-
breeds in the South American states."
The Judge attempted to interrupt, but Mr. Carvel
stopped him.
" Suppose you deprive me of my few slaves, you do not
ruin me. Yet you do me as great a wrong as you do my
friend Samuels, of Louisiana, who depends on the labor
of five hundred. Shall I stand by selfishly and see him
ruined, and thousands of others like him ? "
Profoundly depressed, Colonel Carvel did not attend
the adjourned Convention at Baltimore, which split once
more on Mason and Dixon's line. The Democrats of the
young Northwest stood for Douglas and Johnson, and the
solid South, in another hall, nominated Breckenridge and
Lane. This, of course, became the Colonel's ticket.
What a Babel of voices was raised that summer ! Each
with its cure for existing ills. Between the extremes of
the Black Republican Negro Worshippers and the South-
ern Rights party of Breckenridge, your conservative had
the choice of two candidates, — of Judge Douglas or
Senator Bell. A most respectable but practically extinct
body of gentlemen in runied shirts, the Old Line Whigs,
had likewise met in Baltimore. A new name being nec-
essary, they called themselves Constitutional Unionists,
Senator Bell was their candidate, and they proposed to
give the Nation soothing-syrup. So said Judge Whipple,
with a grunt of contempt, to Mr. Cluyme, who was then a
prominent Constitutional Unionist. Other and most
estimable gentlemen were also Constitutional Unionists;
notably Mr. Calvin Brinsmade. Far be it from any one
194 THE CRISIS
to cast disrespect upon the reputable members of this party
whose broad wings sheltered likewise so many weak
brethren.
One Sunday evening in May, the Judge was taking tea
with Mrso Brice, The occasion was memorable for more
than one event —which was that he addressed Stephen by
jliis first name for the first time.
"You're an admirer 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
Freeport.
" Stephen," said the Judge (here the surprise came in),
u Stephen, what do you think of Mre 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 thought so, sir, ever since you were good
enough to give me 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 effect that he
had done his share of political work. He scarcely 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* Mra Seward had brought his machine from
Mew York, —a legion prepared to fill the Wigwam with
SIG2T3 OF THE TIMES 1S5
their bodies, and to drown with their cries ail names save
that of their master
Stephen indeed had his eyes opened^ Through the
; kindness of Judge Whipple he heard many quiet talks
between that gentleman and delegates from other states
— Pennsylvania and Illinois and Indiana and elsewhere,
He perceived that the Judge was no nonentity in this new
party c Mrc Whipple sat in his own room, and the dele
gates pame and ranged themselves along the bed, Late
one night* when the delegates were gone, Stephen ven-
tured to speak what was in his mindc
fc Mrc 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."
4t Then," said Stephen., rather hotly, 4{ I think you are
unfair to him."
You are expecting the Judge to thunder. Sometimes
he liked this kiud of speechc
" Stephen, I hope that politics may be a little cleaner
when you become a delegate," he answered, with just the
suspicion of a smile. u Supposing you are convinced that
Abraham Lincoln is the only man who can save the Union,
ind supposing that the one way to get him nominated is
B meet Seward's gang with their own methods, what would
jrou do, sir? I want a practical proposition, sir," said Mr,
Whipple, "one that we can use to-night. It is now one
Mock."
As Stephen was silent, the Judge advised him to go tc
Ded. And the next morning, while Mr. Seward's bench .
nen, confident and uproarious, were parading the streets
>f Chicago with their bands and their bunting, the vast
Wigwam was quietly filling up with bony Westerners whose
illy was none other than the state of Pennsylvania, These
gentlemen possessed wind which they had not wasted in
processions. And the Lord delivered Seward and all that
was his into their handso
^ How the light of Mr. Seward's hope went out after the
irst- ballot and how some of the gentlemen attached to
196 THE CEISIS
his person wept ; and how the voices shook the Wigwam.:
and the thunder of the guns rolled over the tossing waters J
of the lake, many now living remember, That day a]
name was delivered to the world through the mouths of!
political schemers which was destined to entei historv as ,
that of the saviour of the Nation,
Down in little Springfield, on a vacant lot near the
station, a tail 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 a 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 notorious 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. Illness 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 out
shoulders to the wheel this summer. If Lincoln is not
elected, I have lived my sixty-five years for nothing."
As he descended the plank? he laid a hand on 3teplien?s
SIGNS OF THE TIMES 19?
arm, and tottered . The big Louisiana, Captain Brents
boat, just in from New Orleans, was blowing off her steam
as with slow steps they climbed the levee and the steep
pitch of the street beyond it. The clatter of hooves and
the crack of whips reached their ears, and, like many
others before them and since, they stepped into Carvel
& Company's* On the inside of the glass partition of the
private office, a voice of great suavity was heardc It was
Eliphalet Hopper's.
" If you will give me the numbers of the bales, Captain
Brent, I'll send a dray down to your boat and get them.'1
It was a very decisive voice that answered.
"No, sir, I prefer to do business with my friend, Colo
ael Carvel. I guess I can wait"
" I could sell the goods to Texas buyers who are here
in the store right now."
"Until I get instructions from one of the concern?'
yowed Captain Lige, " I shall do as I always have done,
sirc What is your position here, Mr, Hopper?"
" I am manager, I callate."
The Captain's fist was heard to come down on the
desk.
" You don't manage me,'9 he said^ " and I reckon you
don't manage the Colonel."
Mr. Hopper's face was not pleasant to see as he emerged:
But at sight of Judge Whipple on the steps his suavity
returned.
" The Colonel will be in any minute, sir," said he,
But the Judge walked past him without reply, and into
the office. Captain Brent, seeing him, sprang to his feet,
"Weil, well, Judge," said he, heartily, 4fcyou fellows
hive done it now, sure, I'll say this for you, you've picked
a smart man."
" Better vote for him^ Lige," said the Judge, sitting
down.
The Captain smiled at Stephen.
" A man's got a lot of choice this year/5 said he, J* Two
governments, thirty-three governments, one government
patched up for a year or two=/S
:J8 THE CBISI&
"Or no government," finished the Judge. *s
fou're not such a fool as to vote against the Union ? **
u Judge," said the Captain, instantly, " I'm not the onb
one in this town who will have to decide whether my gym
vathes are wrong. My sympathies are with the South v
It's no* * question of sympathy, Captain," answered
;he Judge, ~ryly M Abraham Lincoln himself was boru
in Kentucky. "
They had not neard a step without,
w Gentlemen, mark niy 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 w
be chastised and brought back. For at last we have
chosen a man who is strong enough, — who does not f eai
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 xn his gray eyes. It was as quick to die. Judge
Whipple, deathly pale, staggered and fell into Stephen 3
arms But it was the Colonel who laid him on the horse
hair sofa.
" Silas ! *s he said, " Silas
Nor cculd 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 brusquenes^
xs his weakened voice was even more pathetic —
* Tut, tut," said he, M A little heat, and no breakfast M
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,
M Come^ Silas; ' he said
Ie No I " sided the Judge, ai this effort he slipped
back again. Those whc stood there thought that the
stamp ol death, was already ?u Judge Whipple's face
SIGNS OF THE TIMES 199
But the lips were firmly closed, bidding defiance, ag
ever, to the worldo The Colonel, stroking his goatee
regarded him curiously,
5< Silas," he said slowly, " if you won5t drink it for me;
perhaps you will drink it — for — Abraham — Lincoln, *?
The two who watched that scene have never forgotten
it Outside, in the great cool store, the rattle of the
trucks was heard, and Mr, Hopper giving commandso
Within was silence^ The straight figure of the Colonel
towered above the sofa while he waited. A full minute
passed. Once Judge Whipple's bony hand opened and
shut, and once his features worked . Then, without warn
ingj he sat upr
M Colonel," said he, " I reckon I wouldn't be much use
to Abe if I took that. But if you'll send Ephum after &
sup 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 Me. Carvel's store, and how the Colonel had tried to
persuade Judge Whipple to take the Glencoe house while
he was in Europe, and how the Judge had refused. Tears
were in the widow's eyes when Stephen finished.
M And he means to stay here in the heat and go through
the campaign ? " she asked.
M He says that he will not star."
*6 It will kill him, Stephen," Mrs. Brice faltered,
M So the Colonel told him0 And he said that he w :
die willingly — after Abraham Lincoln was -elected: He
had nothing to live for but to fight for that. He had
never understood the world, and had quarrelled with It
til his life. n
f' He said that to Colonel Carvel ? "
m Yes."
f£ Stephen!"
He didn't dare to look at his mother, nor she at him
4ad when he reached the office, half an hour later* Mr
300 TEE CRISIS
Whipple was seated in his chair, defiant and unapproacfe
able. Stephen sighed as he settled down to his work-
The thought of one who might have accomplished what
her father could not was in his head* She was at Monti-
aello.
Some three weeks later Mr. Brinsmade's buggy drew
up at Mrs, Briee's 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 tea0 The secret of
the good man's visit came out as he sat with them on the
front steps afterward,
M I fear that it will be a hot summer, ma'am," he had
said to Mrs. Brice. " You should go to the country.'*
S€ 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-
Tdre is not high/* He mentioned it, And it was, indeed,
nominal u It struck me that a change of air would do
you good, Mrs, Brice, and Stephen Knowing that you
shared in our uneasiness concerning Judge Whipple, I
thought — w
He stopped, and looked at her, It was a hard task ever
for that best and most tactful of gentlemen, Mr, Brinsmadec
He too had misjudged this calm woman.
6* I understand you, Mr, Brinsmade,5' 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.
sfc And, my dear 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 Giencoe 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
in on him in a day or two, at the bankc
ss What do you think, Stephen ? " asked his mother, wheia
Mr0 Brinsmade was gone^
SIGNS OF THE TIMES 2GS
Stephen did not reply at once* What, indeed, could h&
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 froxx
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 oiT
the life — of Judge Whipple ?
It was characteristic of his mother's strength of mine
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 Illinoistown, 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 liner
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, Clarence had picked them only a few
hours ago, in the dew at Bellegarde, She saw heir
cousin standing disconsolate under the train sheds, just m
she had left him. She pictured him riding out tae 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. One-
or twice she had suspected him of wishing to separate
them* Her Aunt Lillian, indeed, had said as much, ana
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
go.
Virginia had been at home but a week. She had seer
the change in Clarence and exulted, The very first day
she had surprised him on the porch at Bellegarde witfc
"Hardee's tactics." From a boy, Clarence had sudden1, •
m ™E CBISIS
isecome & mm with a Purpose,, — and that was the Purpose
af the Souths
68 They have dared to nominate that dirty Lincoln," hs
said, "Do you think that we will submit to nigger equal-
it j rule ? Never ! never ! " he cried. " If they elect him, 1
will stand and fight them until my legs are shot from under
me, and then I will shoot down the Yankees from the
ground/'
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-
riage of a soldier, 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. To him she was the inspired goddess of the South,
— his country0 His admiration and affection had of late
been laid upon an altar. Her ambition for him he felt
was likewise the South's ambition for him,
His mother, Virginia's aunt, felt this too, and strove
against it with her feeble mighto She never had had
power over her son 5 nor over any man, save the temporal
power of beauty. And to her mortification she found her-
self actually in fear of this girl who might have been her
daughter. So in Virginia's presence she became more
trivial and petty than ever0 It was her one defence.
It had 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 bearskin
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 veteran, and his
face was set with a high resolve there was no mistaking.
The high color of her pride was on the cheek of the girl
as he brought his piece to the salute of her, his mistress,
\Sad yet, whmk he was gone, and she sat aioa© amid £hs
3I&H8 OF THE TIMES 3D3
g©&83 awaiting liim, came wilfully before her another
face that was relentless determination* — the face Df
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 and others, to Virginia Carvel his was
become the face of the North. Her patriotism and all
that was in her of race rebelled, To conquer that face
she would have given her own soul, and Clarence^
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^
u Did you rent our house at Glencoe ? n she asked,
«* No, Jinny."
WI 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,
w Once you dislike a person, Jinny, you never get over
ito I always had a fancy for the young man, and now I
have a better opinion of him than ever before. It was I
who insulted them by naming that rent."
a What did he do ? " Virginia demanded.
"He came to my office yesterday morning, * Colonel
Carvel,' said he, * I hear you wish to rent your house,' I
said yes ' You rented it once before, sir,' said he, • Yes/
said I. 4May 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 avv and stared out over the
fields.
" How could they afford it I " she murmuredo
M Mr0 Brinsmade tells me that ; young Brice worn rather
M4k THE CRISIS
a remarkable case last winter, and since then has had some
practiceo And that he writes for the newspapers. I be=
lieve he declined some sort of an editorial position, pre-
ferring to remain at the law."
"And so they are going into the house?" she asked
presently0
*' No," said the ColoneL " Whipple refused point-blank
to go to the country. He said that he would be shirking
the only work of his life likely to be worth any thing* So
the Brices remain in town,"
Colonel Carvel sighed. But Virginia said nothingc
HAPTER X
eichter's scar
This was 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
mind a piece of advice which Mr. Lincoln had given him s
u Speak so that the lowest may understand, and the rest
will have no trouble." And it had worked. At the halting
lameness of the beginning an egg was thrown, ■ — fortunately
wide of the mark. After this incident Stephen fairly
astonished his audience, — especially an elderly gentleman
who sat on a cracker-box in the rear, out of sight of the
stand. This may have been Judge Whipple, although we
have no proof of the fact.
Stephen himself would not have claimed originality for
that speech. He laughs now when it is spoken of, and
calls it a boyish effort, which it was. I have no doubt
that many of the master's phrases slipped in, as young Mr.
Brice could repeat most of the Debates, and the Cooper
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 cabbages. The even^
is to be especially noted because they crowded around
him afterward to ask questions. For one thing, he had
not mentioned abolition. Wasnst it true, then, that this
Lincoln wished to tear the negro from his master, give
Mm a vote and a subsidy } and set him up as the equal o£
206
£06 THE CEISIB
the man that owned him? "Slavery may stay where it
is," cried the young orator. " If it is content there, so are
we content. What we say is that it shall 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.
The 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
them 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
little Dresden-blue eyes, red and round and jolly ; and
Hauptmann, long and thin and sallow; and Korner, 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 Volksmelodie, " Bemooster Bursche zieK
ich aus, — - < Ade I n a big tear rolled down the scar on Richter's
cheek.
" Fahri wohi, ihr Strassen grad und krumm I
Ich zieW nicht mehr in euch herum,
Durchton euch nicht mehr mit Gesang,
Mit Larm nicht mehr und SporenklangJ
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 youi
Boston, my friend ? " he asked.
Stephen only nodded. He had never gpoken of tfaft
BIGHTEE'S SCAE 207
bitr/emess of that, even to his mother. And here was tht
difference between the Saxon and the Anglo-Saxon.
Richter smoked his pipe 'mid dreamy silence, the tears
still wet upon his face.
" Tiefel and I were at the University together," he said
'at length. " He remembers the day I left Jena for good
and all. Ah, Stephen, that is the most pathetic thing in
life, next to leaving the Fatherland. We dine with our
student club for the last time at the Burg Keller, a dingy
little tavern under a grim old house, but very dear to us,
We swear for the last time to be clean and honorable and
patriotic, and to die for the Fatherland, if God so wills,
And then we march at the head of a slow procession out
of the old West Gate, two and two, old members first, then
the fox major and the foxes."
" The foxes ? " Stephen interrupted,
"The youngsters — the freshmen, you call them,'* an-
swered Richter, smiling.
" And after the foxes," said Herr Tiefel, taking up the
story, " after the foxes comes the empty carriage, with its
gay postilion and four. It is like a long funeral. And every
man is chanting that song. And so we go slowly until we
come to the Oil Mill Tavern, where we have had many a
schlager-bout with the aristocrats. And the president of
our society makes his farewell speech under the vines, and
we drink to you with all the bonorso And we drank to
you, Carl, renowned swordsman!" And Herr TiefeL
carried away by the recollection, rose to his feet.
The others caught fire, and stood up with their mugs
high in the air, shouting: —
" Lebe wold, Carl ! Lebe wohl ! Salamander, salamander,
salamander! Ein ist ein, zwei ist zivei, drei ist dreif Lebe
wohl!"
And so they toasted every man present, even Stephen
himself, whom they complimented on his speech. And he
soon learned to cry Salamander, and to rub his mug on the
table, German fashion. He was not long in discovering
that Richter was not merely a prime favorite with hi§
Gompanions, but likewise a oerson of some political impo^
208 THE CRISIS
tance in South St. Louis. In the very midst of theif
merriment an elderly man whom Stephen recognized as
one of the German leaders (he afterwards became a
United States general) came and stood smiling by the
table and joined in the singing. But presently he carried
Richter away with him.
"What a patriot he would have made, had our country/
been spared to us ! " exclaimed Herr Konig. " I think hef
was the best man with the Schlager that Jena ever saw.
Even Korner likes not to stand against him in mask and
fencing hat, all padded. Eh, Rudolph ? "
Herr Korner 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?"
Stephen asked.
They all tried to tell him at once, but Tiefel prevailed.
" Because they were for making our country Austrian,
my friend," he cried. " Because they were overbearing,
and ground the poor. Because the most of them were
immoral like 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
Germany with manly courage. And when we were not
duelling with the nobles, we h&dSchlager-bouts among our-
selves."
" Broadswords ? " exclaimed Stephen, in amazement.
" Ja wohl" answered Korner, puffing heavily. The slit in
his nose was plain even in the moonlight. " To keep our
hands in, as you would say. You Americans are a brave
people — without the Schlager. But we fought that we
might 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 209
" Ah, I can well believe that," answered Korner. " I will
recount that matter, — if you do not tell Carl, lieber Freund,
He would not forgive me. I was there in Berlin at the
time. It was a famous time. Tiefel will bear me out,"
"Ja,ja!" said Tiefel, eagerly.
" Mr. Brice," Herr Korner continued, " has never heard of
the Count von Kalbach. No, of course. We at Jena had,
and all Germany. Many of us of the JBurschenschaft will
bear to the grave the marks of his Schlager. Von Kalbach
went to Bonn, that university of the aristocrats, where he
was worshipped. When he came to Berlin with his sister,
crowds would gather to look at them. They were like
Wodan and Freya. Bonner!''' exclaimed Herr Korner,
"there is something in blood, when all is said. He was
as straight and strong as an oak of the Black Forest, and
she as fair as a poplar. It is so with the Pomeranians.
" It was in the year '47, when Carl Richter was gone
home to Berlin before his last semester, to see his father,
One fine morning von Kalbach rode in at the Branded
burg gate on a great black stallion. He boasted openly
that day that none of the despised Burschenschaft dare
stand before him. And Carl Richter took up the chal=
lenge. Before night all Berlin had heard of the temerity
of the young Liberal of the Jena Burschenschaft. To our
shame be it said, we who knew and loved Carl likewise
feared for him.
" Carl chose for his second Ebhardt, a man of our own
Germanian Club at Jena, since killed in the Breite
Strasse. And if you will believe me, my friend, I tell you
that Richter came to the glade at daybreak smoking his
'pipe. The place was filled, the nobles on one side and the
^Burschenschaft on the other, and the sun coming up over
the trees. Richter would not listen to any of us, not even
the surgeon. He would not have the silk wound on his
arm, nor the padded breeches, nor the neck covering*
Nothing! So Ebhardt put on his gauntlets and peaked
cap, and his apron with the device of the Germanians.
"There stood the Count in his white shirt in the posa of
a statue. And when it was seen that Richter likewise had
9
810 TWE CB1BIB
no protection, but was calmly smoking the little short pipa
with a charred bowl, a hush fell upon all. At the sight of
the pipe von Kalbach ground his heel in the turf, 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 Schlager cannot know the song which a skilled
arm draws from the blade* It was music that morningc
You should have seen the noble's mighty strokes — Prim
und Second und Terz und Quart. You would have marked
how Richter met him at every blow. Von Kalbach nevei
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 Burschenschaft trembled when we saw that our
champion was driven back a step, and then another. You
must know that it is a lasting disgrace to be forced over
one?s own line. It seemed as if we could not bear the
agony. And then, while we 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 th$
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
Ebhardt cried out that his man could fight the second
rnensur, —though the wound was three needles long. Ther
Kalbach cried aloud that he would kill him. But he
had not seen Carl's eyes. Something was in them that
made us think as we washed the cut. But when we spoke
to him he said nothing. Nor could we force the pipe stem
from his teeth.
" Bonner Schockf" exclaimed Herr Korner, hut reve?
ently, "if I live to a hundred I never hope to see such
a sight as that Mensur. The word was given. The Schlagep
flew so fast that we only saw the light and heard the ring
alone. Before we of the Burschenschaft knew what had
happened the Count von Kalbach was over his line and had
flung his Schlager into a great tree, and was striding from
aiGH£EB?§ SCAB SU
sae place with his head hung and the team afcreamisg dews
ais face."
Amid a silence, Herr Korner lifted his great mug aid
emptied it slowly. A wind was rising, bearing with it
song and laughter from distant groups,-— Teutonic song and
•laughter. The moonlight trembled through the shifting
Reaves* And Stephen was filled with a sense of the marvel
lous, It was as if this fierce duel, so full of national sig-
nificance to a German, had been fought in another existence.
It was incredible to him that the unassuming lawyer he
knew, so wholly Americanized, had been the hero of it,
Strange, indeed, that the striving life of these leaders of a
European Revolution had been suddenly cut off in its
vigor. There came to Stephen a flash of that world-com°
prehension which marks great statesmen, Was it not with
a divine purpose that this measureless force of patriotism
and high ideal had been given to this youngest of the
nations, that its high mission might be fulfilled ?
Miss Russell heard of Stephen's speeches, She and her
brothers and Jack Brinsmade used to banter him when he
came a-visiting in Bellefontaine Road* The time was not
yet come when neighbor stared coldly upon neighbor, when
friends of long standing passed each other with averted
looks. It was not even a wild dream that white-trash
Lincoln would be elected. And so Mr. Jack, who made
speeches^ for Breckinridge in the face of Mr, Brins-
made''s Union leanings, laughed at Stephen when he
came to spend the night. He joined forces with Puss in
making clever fun of the booby Dutch, which Stephen was
'wise enough to take good-naturedly But once or twice
[when he met Clarence Colfax at these houses he was aware
of a decided change in the attitude of that young gentle-
man. This troubled him more than he cared to admit*
For he liked Clarence, who reminded him of Virginia — at
once a pleasure and a pain,
It is no harm to admit (for the benefit of the Society
for Psychical Research) that Stephen still dreamed ol
her. He would go about his work absently aH the man*
O THE CEXSI&
^g with the dream still in his head, and the girl so vividly
lear 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 informed 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 Virginia
Carvel.
How needless to add that Virginia in her correspondence
sever 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
£ mystery te friend and foe alike.
OHAPTEB E
HOW A PRINCE CAM^
Who km aofc heard of the St, Louis Agricultural Fair
And what memories of its October days the mere mention
of it brings back to us who knew that hallowed place ag
children. There was the vast wooden amphitheatre wher©
mad trotting races were run; where stolid cattle walked
past the Chinese pagoda in the middle circle, and shook
the blue ribbons on their horns. But it was underneath
the tiers of seats (the whole way around the ring) that th®
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
lor 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 Br,
Thayer's, Unitarian, where Mrs. Brice might be founds
and 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 o And others, the whole
way around the ring.
There is one Fair which old 3t* Louisans still 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
glimpse of her on the street, received a distant bow, and
dreamed of her that nighto Mr Eliphalet Hopper, in Ids
Sunday suit, was at the fany to pay Ms re«peots $© $hs
sis
314 THE CRISIS
Colonel, to offer his services, and to tell him how the busi-
ness fared. His was the first St. Louis face that Virginia
saw (Captain Lige 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 whirling in his head.
The next morning, in Virginia's sunny front room, tears
and laughter mingled. There was a present for Euge*nie
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
rolling eyes laid each Parisian gown upon the bed.
But the Fair, the Fair !
At the thought of that glorious year my pen fails me.
Why mention the dread possibility of the negro-worshipper
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 think stopped at the booth for a chat
with Miss Jinny? Who made her blush as pink as her
Paris 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
oi 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 Mr0 Davitt'e
HOW A PRINCE CAME 21S
booths, stared until his eyes watered. A great throng
peered into the covered way, kept clear for his Royal
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-
ing, while Virginia and the young ladies with her bowed
and blushed and smiled. Colonel Carvel, who was z
Director, laid his hand paternally on the blue coat of the
young 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 of a Southern
gentleman. Whereupon Lord Renfrew bowed and smiled
|too, and stroked his mustache, which was a habit he had,
md so fell naturally into the ways of Democracy.
Miss Puss Russell, who has another name, and whose
[hair is now white, will tell you how Virginia carried off
t;he occasion with credit to her country.
It is safe to say that the Prince forgot " Silver Heels "
md "Royal Oak," although they had been trotted past
phe Pagoda only that morning for his delectation. He
liad forgotten his Honor the Mayor, who had held fast
bo the young man's arm as the four coal-black horses had
pranced through the crowds all the way from Barnum's
Hotel to the Fair Grounds. His Royal Highness forgot
limself still further, and had at length withdrawn his
lands from the pockets of his ample pantaloons and thrust
lis thumbs into his yellow waistcoat. And who shall
)lame him if Miss Virginia's replies to his sallies enchained
um?
Not the least impressive of those who stood by, smiling,
sras the figure of the tall Colonel, his hat off for once, and
>ride written on his face. Oh, that his dear wife might
iave lived to see this !
^ What was said in that historic interview with a future
lovereign of England, far from his royal palaces, on
)emocratic sawdust, with an American Beauty across a
oard counter, was immediately recorded by the Colonel,
Dgether with an exact description of his Royal Highness'g
116 THE CRISIS
blue coat, and light, flowing pantaloons, and yellow waisfe
coat, and colored kids ; even the Prince's habit of strok«
ing his mustache did not escape the watchful eye. It is
said that his Grace of Newcastle smiled twice at Miss
Virginia's retorts, and Lord Lyons, the British Minister,
has more than two to his credit. But suddenly a strange
thing happened. Miss Virginia in the very midst of a
sentence paused, and then stopped. Her eyes had strayed
from the Royal Countenance, and were fixed upon a point
in the row of heads outside the promenade. Her sentence
was completed — with some confusion. Perhaps it is no
wonder that my Lord Renfrew, whose intuitions are quick,
remarked that he had already remained too long, thus
depriving the booth of the custom it otherwise should
have had. This was a graceful speech, and a kingly.
Followed by his retinue and the prominent citizens, he
moved on. And it was remarked by keen observers that
his Honor the Mayor had taken hold once more of the
Prince's elbow, who divided his talk with Colonel Carvel.
Dear Colonel Carvel ! What a true American of the
old type you were. You, nor the Mayor, nor the rest
of the grave and elderly gentlemen were not blinded
by the light of a royal Presence. You saw in him only
an amiable and lovable young man, who was to succeed
the most virtuous and lovable of sovereigns, Victoria.
You, Colonel Carvel, were not one to cringe to roj^alty.
Out of respect for the just and lenient Sovereign, his
mother, you did honor to the Prince. But you did
not remind him, as you might have, that your ances*
tors fought for the King at Marston Moor, and that your
grandfather was once an intimate of Charles James Fox.
But what shall we say of Mr. Cluyme, and of a few others
whose wealth alone enabled them to be Directors' of the
Fair ? Miss Isabel Cluyme was duly presented, in propex
form, to his Royal Highness. Her father owned a a peer-
age," and had been abroad likewise. He made no such
bull as the Colonel. And while the celebrated conversa-
tion of which we have spoken was in progress, Mr. Cluyme
stood back and blushed for his countryman, and smiled
HOW A PRINCE CAME 21?
apologetically at the few gentlemen of the royal suite whe
glanced his way.
His Royal Highness then proceeded to luncheon, which
is described by a most amiable Canadian correspondent
who sent to his newspaper an account of it that I cannot
forbear to copy. You may believe what he says, or not,
just as you choose : " So interested was his Royal Highness
in the proceedings that he stayed in the ring three and
a half hours witnessing these trotting matches. He was
invited to take lunch in a little wooden shanty prepared
for the Directors, to which he accordingly repaired, but
whether he got anything to eat or not, I cannot tell-
After much trouble he forced his way to the table, which
he found surrounded by a lot of ravenous animals. And
upon some half dozen huge dishes were piled slices of
beef, mutton, and buffalo tongue ; beside them were great
jugs of lager beer, rolls of bread, and plates of a sort of
cabbage cut into thin shreds, raw, and mixed with vinegar,
There were neither salt spoons nor mustard spoons, the
knives the gentlemen were eating with serving in their
stead ; and, by the aid of nature's forks, the slices of beef
and mutton were transferred to the plates of those who
desired to eat. While your correspondent stood looking
at the spectacle, the Duke of Newcastle came in, and he
sat looking too. He was evidently trying to look demo-
cratic, but could not manage it. By his side stood a man
urging him to try the lager beer, and cabbage also, I sup-
pose. Henceforth, let the New York Aldermen who gave
to the Turkish Ambassador ham sandwiches and bad sherry
rest in peace."
Even that great man whose memory we love and revere,
Charles Dickens, was not overkind to us, and saw our
faults rather than our virtues. We were a nation of grass-
hoppers, and spat tobacco from early morning until late at
night. This some of us undoubtedly did, to our shame be
it said. And when Mr Dickens went down the Ohio,
early in the '40's, he complained of the men and women
he met ; who, bent with care, bolted through silent meals,
and retired within their cabins. Mr. Dickens saw our
318 THE CRISIS
ancestors bowed in a task that had been too great ion
other blood,— - the task of bringing into civilization in the
compass of a century a wilderness three thousand miles in
breadth. And when his Royal 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
sipon had been conquered from the forest.
<
I A strange thing had happened, indeed. For, while the
Prince lingered in front of the booth of Dr. Posthelwaite?s
church 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 young
countrywoman. And here, by a twist of fate, Mr. Stephen
Brice found himself perched on a barrel beside his friend
Richter„ It was Richter who discovered her first.
u Himmel J 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 I " exclaimed the disgusted German, ** will nothing
move you? I have seen German princesses that are
peasant women beside her. How she carries it off ! See,
the Prince is laughing ! "
Stephen saw, and horror held hira 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
yet that was within him which told him that she would
look up. It was only a question of moments, and then, —
and then she would in truth despise him ! Wedged
'tightly between the people, to move was to be betrayed.
He groaned.
Suddenly he rallied, ashamed of his own false shame,
This was because of one whom he had known for the short
space of a day — whom he was to remember for a lifetime*
The man he worshipped, and she detested. Abraham
Lincoln would not have blushed between honest clerks and
farmers. Why should Stephen Brice? And what, after
ftlL was this giri to him ? He could not tell. Almost the
HOW A PRIKCS CAME 519
iirst day he had come to St. Louis the wires of their lives
had crossed, and since then had crossed many times again,
always with a spark. By the might of generations she
was one thing, and he another. They were separated by
a vast and ever-widening breach only to be closed by the
blood and bodies of a million of their countrymen. And
yet he dreamed of her.
Gradually, charmed like the simple people about him,
Stephen became lost in the fascination of the scene. Sud=
denly confronted at a booth in a public fair with the heir
to the English throne, who but one of her own kind might
have carried 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
admiring crowd, unconscious of their stares until — until
the very strength of his gaze had compelled her own,
Such had been the prophecy within him. Nor did he
wonder because, in 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 in 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 sallies, and
the elderly gentleman smiling with benevolence upon the
pair.
CHAPTER XH
ENTO WHICH A POTENTATE COMES
Virginia danced with the Prince, " by Special Appoint-
ment," at the ball that evening. So did her aunt, Mrs*
Addison 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
princess 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 he had with Miss Cluyme, although that young
Lady had declared she was in heaven.
Alas, that princes cannot abide with us forever ! His
Royal Highness bade farewell to St. Louis, and presently
that same City of Alton which bore him northward came
back again in 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
Douglas, — 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 ready for
another.
Blow, you bandsmen on the hurricane deck, let the
shores echo with your national airs ! Let the gay bunt-
ing wave in the river breeze ! Uniforms flash upon the
guards, 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
intc his open carriage that evening on the levee, where
the piles of river freight are covered with people. Trans-
parencies are dodging in the darkness. A fresh band
strikes up "Hail Columbia," and the four horses prance
'220
INTO WHICH A POTENTATE COMES 221
away* followed closely by the "Independent Broom
Rangers." " The shouts for Douglas," remarked a keen
observer who was present, "must have penetrated Abra-
ham's bosom at Springfield."
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 of national principles. And although Mr.
Douglas looked as if he had heard something of the kind
before, he pressed Mr. Cluyme'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 Freeport. Who,
seeing the 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 was harnessed to the cause of the people ! And
how happy was the choice of that word harnessed!
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 might be in vain.
They had a grim reproof from Judge Whipple in the
naorninge
?22 THE CEISIS
"So you too, gentlemen, took opium last night," was
all he said.
The dreaded possibility of Mr. Lincoln's election did
not interfere with the gayeties. The week after the Fair
Mr. Clarence Colfax gave a great dance at Bellegarde,
in honor of his cousin, Virginia, to which Mr. Stephen
Brice was not invited. A majority of Company A was there.
/ 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-
ing 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 Virginia, search
ingly, when she had finished.
Anne looked mystified.
" I have invited Stephen Brice, Jinny," she saido
« 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 with a but."
Anne was quite overcome by 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,
u 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 enougb
to encounter InnV' Virginia retortedo
INTO WHICH A POTENTATE COMES 22S
u You are the only one who says so, then." Here the
feminine got the better of Anne's prudence, and she added i
u I saw you waltz with him once, Jinny Carvel, and I am
sure you never enjoyed a dance as much in your life."
Virginia blushed purple.
" Anne Brinsmade i " 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
Stephen Brice ! Then vou 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
couldn'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 going 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 flicking 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 !
"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 ! " 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,
leaving a very puzzled young woman watching her from
the window. But when Virginia reached the forest at the
bend of the road, she pulled her horse down to a walk*
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 great-grandmother, Dorothy
Carvel.
Shades of romance ! How many readers will smile
before the rest of this true incident is told?
What had happened was this. Miss Anne Brinsmade
had driven to town in her mother's Jenny Lind 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 hung
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 ! " she exclaimed. And added %
"Only the face is much older. Who is it, Mrs. Brice?"
" Colonel Wilton Brice, Stephen's grandfather. There
is a marked look about all the Brices. He was only
twenty years of age when the Revolution began. That
picture was painted much later in life, after Stuart came
back 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 V9
she cried. " Do you think he would, Mrs. Brice ? "
Mrs. Brice laughed, and shook her head.
tfc I am afraid not, Anne," she said. " I have a part of
the uniform 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
grandfather's uniform to a ball. But she meant to ask
him, at any rate. And she had driven home immediately
to write her invitations. It was with keen disappointment
that she read his note of regret.
However, on the very day of the ball, Anne chanced to
be in town again, and caught sight of Stephen pushing his
INTO WHICH A POTENTATE COMES 225
way among the people on Fourth Street. She waved her
hand to him, and called to Nicodemus to pull up at the
sidewalk.
" 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 sorry," she added, a little hastily. " Stephen, I saw
the portrait of your grandfather, and I wanted you to come
in his costume."
Stephen, smiling down on her, said nothing. And poor
Anne, in her fear that he had perceived the shade in her
meaning, made another unfortunate remark.
"If you were not a — a Republican — " she said.
"A Black Republican," he answered, and laughed at
her discomfiture. " What then ? "
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 my poli°
tics are, does it?" he asked, a little earnestly.
" Oh, Stephen ! " she exclaimed, in gentle reproof.
" Some people have discarded me," he said, striving to
smile.
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 lifted 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
was not to be there. And Anne was scrupulous.
Stephen, too, was almost instantly sorry that he had
promised. The little 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
Q
l|26 THE CRISIS
mother's room. Colonel Brice's cocked hat and sword
and spurs lay on the bed, and presently Hester brought
in 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
jruffled 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 sufh"
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 young. 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
fancy dress 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 thought that
closed his ears for once to the Judge's words* He had
had before a huge liking for Tom. Now he admired hims
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 something of greater y&Iuq than either. From
INTO WHICH A POTENTATE COMES 22?
childhood Tom had been the devoted slave of Virginia
Carvel, with as little chance of marrying her as a man
ever had. And now he was endangering 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 Judge Whipple had finished, Tom rose. He
awoke Mr. Brice from a trance.
" Stephen," said he, " of course you5re going to the
Brinsmade's."
Stephen shook his head.
" Why not ? " said Tom, in surprise. " Haven't you a
costume ? "
" Yes," he answered dubiously.
" W7hy, then, you've got to come with me," says Tom9
heartily. u It isn't too late, and they'll want you. I've
% buggy, and I'm going to the Russells' to change mjf
A^othes. Come along ! "
l&gpkign went.
CHAPTER XIII
AT MR. BRINSMADE9S GATE
The eastern side of the Brinsmade house is almost
wholly taken up by the big drawing-room where Anne
gave her fancy-dress ball. From the windows might be
seen, 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 apple blossoms still fall thinly in the
spring. The huge black town has coiled aboat the placec
The garden still struggles on, but the giants of the forest
are dying and dead. Bellefontaine 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 have been spared
to dreaim
Still the old house stands, begrimed but stately, rebuk-
ing the sordid life around it. Still come into it the Brins-
mades to marriage and to death. Five and sixty years are
gone since Mr. Calvin Brinsmade took his bride theree
They sat on the porch in the morning light, harking tc
the whistle of the quail in the corn, 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-ccat and brass buttons?
Old people will tell you of the royal hospitality then, of
the famous men and women who promenaded under those
chandeliers, and sat down to the game-laden table. In
1835 General Atkinson and his officers thought nothing
of the twenty miles fuom Jefferson Barracks below, nor of
dancing all night with the Louisville belles, who were Mrs
AT MR. BKIKSMADE'S GATE 229
Brinsmade's guests. Thither came Miss Todd of Ken-
tucky, long before she thought of taking for a husband
that rude man of the people, Abraham Lincoln. For-
eigners of distinction fell in love with the place, with its
open-hearted master and mistress, and wrote of it in their
journals. Would that many of our countrymen, who think
of the West as rough, might have known the quality of the
Brinsmades and their neighbors !
An era of charity, of golden simplicity, was passing on
that October night of Anne Brinsmade's ball. Those who
made merry there were soon to be driven and scattered
before the winds of war ; to die at Wilson's Creek, or
Shiloh, or to be spared for heroes of the Wilderness. Some
were to eke out a life of widowhood in poverty. All were
to live soberly, chastened by what they had seen. A fear
knocked at Colonel Carvel's heart as he stood watching
the bright figures.
" Brinsmade," he said, " do you remember this room in
May, '46 ? "
Mr. Brinsmade, startled, turned upon him quickly.
" Why, Colonel, you have read my very thoughts," he
said. " Some of those who were here then are — are still
in Mexico."
" And some who came home, Brinsmade, blamed God
because they had not fallen," said the Colonel.
" Hush, Comyn, His will be done," he answered ; " He
has left a daughter to comfort you."
Unconsciously their eyes sought Virginia. In her gown
of faded primrose and blue with its quaint stays and short
sleeves, she seemed to have caught the very air of the
decorous century to which it belonged. She was standing
against one of the pilasters at the side of the room, laugh-
ing demurely at the antics of Becky Sharp and Sir John
Falstaff, — Miss Puss Russell and Mr. Jack Brinsmade,
respectively.
Mr. Tennyson's "Idylls" having appeared but the
year before, Anne was dressed as Elaine, a part which
suited her very well. It was strange indeed to see her
waltzing with Daniel Boone (Mr. Clarence Colfax) is
230 THE CKISIS
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 ! 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 ! 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, Jinny?" said Clarence, when
they were on the seat under the vines.
"He meant that Yankee, Stephen Brice," answered
AT ME. BRXNSMADE'S GATE 2BX
Virginia, languidly. "I am so tired of hearing about
him."
" So am I," said Clarence, with a fervor by do 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 who 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
chem our Glencoe House last summer at alow price, and they
insisted on paying what Mr. Edwards gave 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 makp, 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 suppose that you have heard the result of the Octo*
ber elections, Jinny."
THE CRISIS
" Pa said something about them to-night," she answered;
"why?"
" It looks now as if there were a chance of the Republi-
cans winning," he answered. But it was elation that
caught his voice, not gloom.
" You 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 every man who can bear arms is shot down."
He paused. The strains of a waltz mingled 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 *o hers.
" And now ? " he said.
" I am ready to work, to starve, to go to prison, to
help—"
He sank back heavily into the corner.
" Is that all, Jinny ? "
" All ? " she repeated. " Oh, if a woman could only do
more ! "
" 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 for nothing, that I lacked purpose ? "
"Yes, Max."
" I have thought 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 MK. BKINSMADE'S GATE 233
u Ever since I have known what love is I have loved
you, 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
Military Institute. But it has not been the same of late,"
he faltered. " Something has happened. I felt it first on
that day you rode out to Bellegarde when you said that my
life was of no use. Jinny, 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 general, will you
marry me ? "
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.
Will you wait?"
uYes," 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
affection 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.
234 THE CRISIS
Patriotism, stronger in Virginia than many of us now
can conceive, was on Clarence's side. Ambition was
strong in her likewise. Now was she all afire with 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 day at Giencoe, 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.
Vivid] y she recalled his home-coming in the twilight, his
coat torn and muddy, 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 geaerosity
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
lescape 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 roado
AT MR. BRINSMADE'S GATE 235
Virginia stood out in the light fairly between the gate-
posts. Too late she saw the horse rear as the rider flew
back in his seat, for she had seized the bridle. The
beams from the lamp fell upon a Revolutionary horseman,
with cocked hat and sword 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 sho, nor did he won=
der at her gown of a gone-by 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 said.
u What must you think of me I "
Stephen was calm.
" 1 expected it," he answeredo
She gave a step backward, and raised her frightened
eyes to his.
" You expected it ? " she faltered.
" I can't say why," he said quickly, " but it seems to
me as if this had happened before* I know that I am
talking nonsense — - "
Virginia was trembling now0 And her answer was not
ifii 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 bridlea 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 ow*i voi§e makiner reply.
836 THE CRISIS
** And I — I have seen you, with the sword, and the
powdered hair, and the blue coat and the buff waistcoat.
It is a buff waistcoat like that my great-grandfather wears
in his pictures."
" It is a buff waistcoat," he said, all sense of strangeness
gone.
The roses she held dropped on the gravel, and she put
out her hand against his horse's flank. In an instant ha
had leaped from his saddle, and his arm was holding her.
She did not resist, marvelling rather at his own steadi«
ness, nor did she then resent a tenderness in his voice.
44 1 hope you will forgive me — Virginia," he said. " I
should not have mentioned this. And yet I could not
help it."
She looked up at him rather wildly.
" It was I who stopped you," she said 5 " I was waiting
for — "
44 For whom ? "
The interruption brought remembrance.
44 For my cousin, Mr. Colfax," she answered, in another
tone. And as she spoke she drew away from him, up the
driveway. But she had scarcely taken five steps when
she turned again, her face burning defiance. 44 They told
me you were not coming," she said almost fiercely.
44 Why did you come ? "
It was a mad joy that Stephen felt.
" You did not wish me to come ? " he demanded.
44 Oh, why do you ask that ? " she cried. " You know
I would not have been here had I thought you were com-
ing. Anne promised me that you would not come."
What would she not have given for those words back,
again !
Stephen took a stride toward her, and to the girl that
stride betokened a thousand things that went to the man's
character. Within its compass the comparison in her
mind was all complete. He was master of himself when
he spoke.
44 You dislike me, Miss Carvel," he said steadily. " I
io not blame you. Nor do I flatter myself that it is only
AT MR. BRESTSMADE'S GATE 23*
because you believe one thing, and I another. But i
assure you that it is my 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
he 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 lifted 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 should she say to Clarence now? What
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 ! 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 to
have ask^d you to wait outside. Did it seem long, Jinny ? "
She answered somethingo There was a seat near by
THE CRISIS
ander the trees, To lead her to it he seized her hand, but
it was limp and cold, and a sudden fear came into 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 windows, 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 1
would wait for you."
" Then — then you won't marry 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 shorto 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 her cousin ; but Puss found her friend
in one of those moods which even she dared not disturbo
Accordingly Miss Russell stayed all night with Anne,
AT MR. BRINSMADE'S GATE 23£
And the two spent most of the dark hours remaining in
unprofitable discussion as to whether Virginia were at last
engaged to her cousin, and in vain queried over another
unsolved mystery. This mystery was taken up at the
breakfast table the next morning, when Miss Carvel sur-
prised Mrs. Brinsmade and the male household by appear-
ing at half-past seven.
"Why, Jinny," cried Mr. Brinsmade, "what does this
mean ? I always thought that young ladies did not get
up after a ball until noon."
Virginia smiled a little nervously.
" I am going to ask you to take me to town when you
go, Mr. Brinsmade."
" Why, certainly, my dear," he said. " But I under=
stood that your aunt was to send for you this afternoon
from Bellegarde."
Virginia shook her head. " There is something I wish
to do in town."
"I'll 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,
Brinsmade, glancing anxiously at the girl.
Mr. Brinsmade put down his newspaper.
"Where was Stephen Brice last night, Jack?" he
asked. " I understood Anne to say that he had spoken
of coming late."
" Why, sir," said Jack, " that's what we can't make out.
Tom Catherwood, who is always doing queer things, you
know, went to a Black Republican meeting last night, and
met Stephen there. They came out in Tom's buggy to
the Russells', and Tom got into his clothes first and rode
over. Stephen was to have followed on Puss Russell's
horse. But he never got here. At least I can find no
one who saw him. Did you, Jinny ? "
But Virginia did not raise her eyes from her plate. A
miraculous intervention came through Mrs. Brinsmade.
" There might have been an accident, Jack," said that
iady? with concern*, " Send Nicodemus over to Mrs, Rus~
240 THE CEISIS
sell's at once to inquire. You know that Mrc Brice is 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 reason I mentioned him," said Mr. Brinsmade,
lifting the blanket sheet and adjusting his spectacles, " was
because his name caught my eye in this paper. His speech
last night at the Library Hall is one of the few sensible
Republican speeches I have read. I think it very remark-
able for a man as young as he." Mr. Brinsmade began to
read : " 4 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 name. Mr. Brice is a young lawyer with
a quiet manner and a determined face, who has sacrificed
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
in the house, Mr. Brice's personality is prepossessing,
his words are spoken sharply, and he has a singular em-
phasis at times which seems to drive his arguments into
the minds of his hearers. We venture to say that if party
orators here and elsewhere were as logical and temperate
as Mr. Brice ; if, like him, they appealed to reason rather
than to passion, those bitter and lamentable differences
which threaten our country's peace might be amicably
adjusted.' Let me read what he said."
But he 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 get
ready."
" But you've eaten nothing, my dear."
Virginia did not reply. She was already on the stairsc
M You ought not have read that, Pa," Mr. Jack remon
gtrated ; u you know that she detests Yankees*."
CHAPTER XIV
the breach becomes too wide
Abraham Lincoln!
At the foot of Breed's Hill in Charlestown an American
had been born into the world, by the might of whose genius
that fateful name was sped to the uttermost parts of the
nation. Abraham Lincoln was elected President of the
United States. And the moan of the storm gathering in
the South grew suddenly loud and louder.
Stephen Brice read the news in the black headlines and
laid down the newspaper, a sense of the miraculous upon
him. There again was the angled, low-ceiled room of the
country tavern, reeking with food and lamps and perspira-
tion ; for a central figure the man of surpassing homeliness,
- — coatless, tieless, and vestless, — telling a story in the
vernacular. He reflected that it might well seem strange
— yea, and intolerable — to many that this comedian of
the country store, this crude lawyer and politician, should
Inherit the seat dignified by Washington and the Adamses.
And yet Stephen believed. For to him had been vouch-
safed the glimpse beyond.
That was a dark winter that followed, the darkest in
our history. Gloom and despondency came fast upon the
heels of Republican exultation. Men rose early for tidings
from Charleston, the storm centre. The Union was crack-
; ing here and there. Would it crumble in pieces before
Abraham Lincoln got to Washington ?
One smoky morning early in December Stephen arrived
late at the office to find Richter sitting idle on his 6tooL;
concern graven on his face.
" The Judge has had no breakfast, Stephen," he whi»=
pered. "Listen! Shadrach tells me he has been doing
that since six this morning, when he got his newspaper."
e 241
242 THE CEISIS
Stephen listened, and he heard the Judge pacing and
pacing in his room. Presently the door was flung open,
and they saw Mr. Whipple standing in the threshold, stern
and dishevelled. Astonishment did not pause here. He
came out and sat dowr in Stephen's chair, striking the
newspaper in his hand, and they feared at first that his
mind had wandered.
" Propitiate ! " he cried, "propitiate, propitiate, and again
propitiate. How long, O Lord ? " Suddenly he turned upon
Stephen, who was frightened. But now his voice was
natural, and he thrust the paper into the young man's
lap. "Have you read the President's message to Con-
gress, sir? God help me that I am spared to call that
wobbling Buchanan President. Read it. Read it, sirt
You have a legal brain. Perhaps you can tell me why,
If a man admits that it is wrong for a state to abandon
this Union, he cannot call upon Congress for men and
money to bring her back. No, this weakling lets Floyd
stock the Southern arsenals. He pays tribute to Barbary.
He is for bribing them not to be angry. Take Cuba from
Spain, 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 intc
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.
Three weeks passed. There arrived a sparkling Sunday
brought down the valley of the Missouri from the frozei?
northwest. The Saturday had been soggy and warm.
Thursday had seen South Carolina leave that Union into
which she was born, amid prayers and the ringing of bells*
Tuesday was to be Christmas day. A young lady, who
had listened to a solemn sermon of Dr. Posthelwaite's,
slipped out of Church before the prayers were ended, and
hurried into that deserted portion of the town about the
Court House where on week days business held its sway.
She stopped once at the bottom of the grimy flight of steps*
-leading to Judge Whipple's office. At the top she paused
THE BREACH BECOMES TOO WIDE 243
again, and for a short space stood alert, her glance resting
on the little table in the corner, on top of which a few
thumbed law books lay neatly piled. Once she made a
hesitating step in this direction. Then, as if by a resolu-
lion quickly taken, she turned her back and softly opened
the door of the Judge's room. He was sitting upright in
his chair. A book was open in his lap, but it did not seem
to Virginia that he was reading it.
"Uncle Silas," she said, "aren't you coming to dinner
any more ? "
He looked up swiftly from under his shaggy brows .
The book fell to the floor.
" Uncle Silas," said Virginia, bravely, " I came to get
you to-day."
Never before had she known him to turn away from
man or woman, but now Judge Whipple drew his hand-
kerchief from his pocket and blew his nose violently. A
woman's intuition told her that locked tight in his heart
was what he longed to say, and could not. The shiny
black overcoat he wore was on the bed. Virginia picked
it up and held it out to him, an appeal in her eyes.
He got into it. Then she handed him his hat. Many
people walking home from church that morning marvelled
as they saw these two on Locust Street together, the young
girl supporting the elderly man over the slippery places at
the crossings. For neighbor had begun to look coldly upon
neighbor.
Colonel Carvel beheld them from his armchair by the
sitting-room window, and leaned forward with a start.
His lips moved as he closed his Bible reverently and
marked his place. At the foot of the stairs he surprised
Jackson by waving him aside, for the Colonel himself
flung open the door and held out his hand to his friend,
The Judge released Virginia's arm, and his own trembled
as he gave it.
"Silas," said the Colonel, "Silas, we've missed you."
Virginia stood by, smiling, but her breath came deeply.
Had she done right? Could any good come of it all?
Judge Whipple did not go in at the door. He stood ujb»
2U THE CRISIS
compromisingly planted on the threshold, his head flung
back, and actual fierceness in his stare.
" Do you guess we can keep off the subject, Comyn ? "
he demanded.
Even Mr. Carvel, so used to the Judge's ways, was a
bit taken aback by this question. It set him tugging at
his goatee, and his voice was not quite steady as he
answered : —
" God knows, Silas. 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
sprung up once more. Only that morning in church she
had lived over again the scene by Mr. Brinsmade's gate,
and it was then that a wayward but resistless impulse to go
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 morose on
Sundays, and had taken to reading the Bible, a custom he
had not had since she was a child.
In the dining-room Jackson, bowing and smiling, pulled
out the Judge's 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."
The 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
sardonically. Were they going to be able to keep it off?
There was to be no help from Judge Whipple, who sat in
grim silence. A man who feels his soul burning is not
given to small talk. Virginia alone had ever possessed
the power to make him forget.
"Uncle Silas, I am sure there are some things about
3ur trip that we never told you. How we saw Napoleon
THE BREACH BECOMES TOO WIDE 245
and his beautiful Empress driving in the Bois, and how
Eugenie smiled and bowed at the people. I never saw
such enthusiasm in my life. And oh, I learned such a lot
of French history. All about Francis the First, and Pa
took me to see his chateaus along the Loire. Very few
tourists go there. You really ought to have gone with us."
Take care, Virginia !
" I had other work to do, Jinny," said the Judge.
Virginia rattled on.
" I told you that we stayed with a real lord in England,
didn't I ? " said she. " He wasn't half as nice as the Prince.
But he had a beautiful house in Surrey, all windows, which
was built in Elizabeth's time. They called the architec-
ture Tudor, didn't they, Pa?"
" Yes, dear," said the Colonel, smiling.
" The Countess was nice to me," continued the girl,
"and took me to garden parties. But Lord Jermyn was
always talking politics."
The Colonel was stroking his goatee.
"Tell Silas about the house, Jinny, Jackson, help the
Judge again."
"No," said Virginia, drawing a breath. "I'm going to
tell him about that queer club where my great-grand-
father used to bet with Charles Fox. We saw a great
many places where Richard Carvel had been in England.
That was before the Revolution. Uncle Daniel read me
some of his memoirs when we were at Calvert House. I
know that you would be interested in them, Uncle Silas,
He sailed under Paul Jones."
" And fought for his country and for his flag, Virginia,"
said the Judge, who had scarcely spoken until then. " No,
I could not bear to read them now, when those who should
love that country are leaving it in passion."
There was a heavy silence. Virginia did not dare to
look at her father. But the Colonel said, gently : — -
"Not in passion, Silas, but in sorrow."
The Judge tightened his lips. But the effort was be-
yond him, and the flood within him broke loose.
"Colonel Carvel," he cried, "South Carolina is mad I
U6 THE GSIBIS
\§ke is departing in sin, in order that a fiendish practice
may be perpetuated. If her people stopped to think they
would know that slavery cannot exist except by means of
this Union. But let this milksop of a President Ho Mb
worst. We have chosen a man who has the strength tc
Bay, ■ You shall not go ! * "
It was an awful moment. The saving grace of it was
that respect and love for her father rilled Virginia's heart
In his just anger Colonel Carvel remembered that he was
the host, and strove to think only of his affection for his
eld friend.
" To invade a sovereign state, sir, is a crime against the
sacred spirit of this government,*' he said.
"There is no such thing as a sovereign state, sir,"
exclaimed the Judge, hotly. "I am an American, and
not a Missourian."
" When the time comes, sir," said the Colonel, with dig-
nity, " Missouri will join with her sister sovereign states
against oppression."
M Missouri will not secede, sir."
u Why not, sir ? " demanded the Colonel.
" Because, sir, when the worst comes, the Soothing Syrup
men will rally for the Union. And there are enough loya*
people here to keep her straight."
" Dutchmen* sir ! Hessians ! Foreign Republican hire
lings, sir,' exclaimed the Colonel, standing up. "W<&
shall drive them like sheep if they oppose as. You a*$
drilling them now that they may murder your own bk*>d«
when you think the time is ripe."
The Colonel did not hear Virginia leave the room, so softly
had she gone. He made a grand figure of a man as he stood
up, straight and tall, those gray eyes a-kindle at last. Bub
the fire died as quickly as it had flared. Pity had come
and quenched it, — pity that an unselfish life of suffering
&nd loneliness should be crowned with these. The Colonel
longed then to clasp his friend in his arms. Quarrels they
bad had by the hundred, never yet a misunderstanding.
!od had given to Silas Whipple a nature stern and harsh
tfeat sepelled aU save the charitable few whese gift it wrs
THE BKEACH BECOMES TOO WIDE 24T
So see below the surface, and Colonel Carvel had been the
ohief of them. But now the Judge's vision was clouded.
Steadying himself by his chair, he had risen glaring, the
loose skin twitcning on his sallow face. He began firmly,
but his voice shook ere he had finished.
" Colonel Carvel." said he, " I expect that the day has
come when you go your way and I go mine. It will be
better if— we do not meet again, sir,"
And so he turned from the man whose friendship had
itayed him for the score of years he had battled with his
enemies, from that house which had been for so long his
only home. For the last time Jackson came forward to
help him with his coat. The Judge did not see him,
nor did he see the tearful face of a young girl leaning
over the banisters above. Ice was on the stones. Ana
Mr. Whipple, blinded by a moisture strange to his eyes,
clung to the iron railing as he felt his way down the steps,
Before he reached the bottom a stronger arm had seized
his own, and was helping him.
The Judge brushed his eyes with his sleeve, and turned
a defiant face upon Captain Elijah Brent — then his voice
broke, His anger was suddenly gone, and his thoughts
had flown back to the Colonel's thousand charities,
M Lige," he said, " Lige, it has come."
In answer the Captain pressed the Judge's hand, nod-
ding vigorously to hide his rising emotion. There was a
pause.
u And you, Lige ? " said Mr. Whipple, presently.
64 My God!" cried the Captain, "I wish I knew/'
M Lige," said the Judge, gravely, " you're too good a man
to be for Soothing Syrup."
The Captain choked.
" You're too smart to 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 in my life did I know it to do good to dodge a ques*
tion. We've got to be white or black, Lige. Nobody's
got much use for the grays« And don't let yourself be
fooled with Constitutional Union Meetings and Conda»
348 THE CEISIS
tional Union Meetings, and compromises. The time k)
almost here, Lige, when it will take a rascal to steer s>
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 Cluy me. 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, out of the Union ? The militia is riddled
with rebels, and the rsst are forming companies of minute-
men."
"And you Black Republicans," the Captain cried,
'have organized your Dutch Wideawakes, and are arm-
ing them to resist Americans born."
"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, his
voice was rent with feeling. ,
" Judge," he began, " when I was a poor young man ofit
the old Vicksburg, second officer 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, sirtt One day the sheriff
sold the Vicksburg. You remember it. That left me high
and dry in the mud- Who bought her, sir? Colonel Car
veL And he says to me, fe Lige, you're captain now, the
youngest captain on the river. And she's your boat. You
3a& pay me principal and interest when you get ready.
THE BREACH BECOMES TOO WIDE 249
Judge Whipple, I never had any other home than right In
this house, I never had any other pleasure than bringing
Jinny presents, and tryin' to show 'em gratitude. Hfc
took me into his house and cared for me at a time when
I wanted to go to the devil along with the stevedores —
when I was a wanderer he kept me out of the streets, and
out of temptation. Judge, I'd a heap rather go down and
jump off the stern of my boat than step in here and tell
him I'd fight for the North."
The Judge steadied himself on his hickory stick and
walked off without a word. For a while Captain Lige
stood staring after him0 Then he slowly climbed the steps
Slid disappeared^
CHAPTER XV
MUTTEKINGS
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 be saved to the
Union. One of these gentlemen was Judge Whipple ;
another, Mr. Rrinsmade ; 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 dash
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
had no terrors for him. He proved the ablest of lieutenant'
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 nome 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 Stephen Brice saw
250
MUTTEEINGS 251
the Leader go 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 to
the feeblest brain what the Leader and his friends had per-
ceived long before, that the Governor intended to use the
militia (purged 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, overlooking the river. It was
in command of a doubting major of ordnance ; the corps of
officers of Jefferson 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 corners, each of whom glanced at him list*
Hessly as he passed. He went up a dark and narrow staix
252 THE CRISIS
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 friend," he said, "you are made second lieutenant
of our company, the Black Jaegers"
" 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 big Tom Catherwood, who blushed
to the line of his hair as he 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 afford 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-
pathies Stephen divined while taking off his coat in the
hall. Then he heard Miss Russell cry : —
" I believe that they are drilling those nasty Dutch hire-
lings in secret."
MUTTEEI^GS 253
" I am sure they are," said George Catherwood. " One
of the halls is on Twelfth Street, and they have sentries
posted 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
isn't a coward. He'd just as soon tell Pa to-morrow that
he was drilling 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 happening. I
know somebody else — "
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 feit 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 young 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 straight in the velvet
chair, awaiting a seasonable time to bring his visit to a close.
£54 THE CRISIS
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 Catherwood 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 OF SUMTER
Winter had vanished. Spring was come with a husk.
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 in 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 terrors 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 night
with God.
Stephen, too, awoke. The lightning revealed her as
she bent over him. On the wings of memory he flew back
to his 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 corned
He sat up, blindly. Even he did not guess the agony
in her heart.
" You will have to go, Stephen."
It was long before his answer came.
" You know that I cannot, mother. We have nothing
left but the little I earn. And if I were — " He did not
finish the sentence, for he felt her tremblingo But sh©
256 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 ! 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 accusers 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 he were to march away in the blue of
his country (alas, not of hers !) she would respect him
foi risking life for conviction. If he stayed at home, she
would not 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
cameo 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 the flag she
had once revered.
On the Monday came the call of President Lincoln foi
volunteers. Missouri was asked for her quota. The out*
raged reply of her governor went back, — never would she
furnish troops to invade her sister states. Little did Gov-
ernor Jackson foresee that Missouri was to stand fifth of
all the Union in the number of men she was to give. T©
her was credited in the end even more men than stanck
Massachusetts.
The noise of preparation was in the city — in the land.
On the Monday morning, when Stephen went wearily t©
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 friena, until further
orders. It is the Leader's word. Until we go to the front?
Stephen, to put down rebellion." Stephen sank into &
chair, and bowed his 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 confess t©
Richter, of all men?
" Carl," he said at length, " I — - 1 cannot go.J?
" You — you cannot go ? You who have dene so mucb
already ! And why ? "
Stephen did not answer. But Richter, suddenly divin-
ing, laid his hands impulsively on Stephen's shoulders.
"Ach, I see," he said. "Stephen, I have saved some
money. It shall be for your mother while you are away."
At first Stephen was too surprised for speech. Then,
in spite of his feelings, he stared at the German with a
new appreciation of his character. Then he could merely
shake his heado
" Is it not for the Union ? M implored Richter, " I would
268 THE CBISIS
give a fortune, if I had it, Ah, my friend, that wguM
E lease me so. And I do not need the money now. I
ave — 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 agony in his eyes, Li
,that instant he saw the regiment marching, and the flag
(flying at its head,
" It is my duty to stay here, Carl," he said brokenly.
Richter took an appealing step toward him and stopped.
He realized that with this young New Englander a deolr
sion once made was unalterable. In all his knowledge
of Stephen he never remembered him to change., Witd
she demonstrative sympathy of his race, he yearned te
comfort him, and knew not how. Two hundred yeaus
of Puritanism had reared barriers not to be broken dowik.
At the end of the office the stern figure of the Judge
appeared.
" Mr. Brice I M 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 from
their hiding-place.
" Mr. Brice," hs 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, people will tell you that
the war will be over in ninety days. But I tell you, sir,
fthat it will not be over in seven times ninety days." He
^brought down his fist heavily upon the table. u This, sir,
will be l* 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 0 " No, sir," he answered.,
steadily, " not now."
:i Humph," said the Judge0 Then lie began vrhab
THE GTHSB OF 8TOTEB 2H
seemed & nsver-ending search among the papers on his
deskc At length he drew out a letter, put on his spec-
tacles and read it, and finally put it down again,
M Stephen," said Mr. Whipple, M you are doing a cour
ageous thing. But if we elect to follow our conscience
in this world, we must not expect to escape persecution,
sir. Two weeks ago," he continued slowly, "two weeks
ago I had a letter from Mr* Lincoln about matters here.
He mentions you/*
n He remembers me ! " cried Stephen,
The Judge smiled a little* "Mr. Lincoln never forgets
any one," said he, " He wishes me to extend to you his
thanks for your services to the 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 at this
since, and said that he would not have heard of them at
all had not the Judge's sense of duty compelled him to
convey the message. And it was with a lighter heart
than he had felt for many a day that he went out of the
door
Some weeks later, five regiments were mustered into
the service of the United States, The Leader was in com=
mand of one. And in response to his appeals, despite the
presence of officers of higher rank, the President had
given Captain Nathaniel Lyon supreme command in
Missouri*
Stephen stood among the angry, jeering crowd that
lined the streets as the regiments marched past Here
were the Black Jaegers. No wonder the crowd laughed.
Their step was not as steady, nor their files as straight,
as Company A, There was Richter, his head high, his
blue eyes defiant, And there was little Tiefel marching
in that place of second lieutenant that Stephen himself
should have filled. Here was another company, and at
the end of the first four, big Tom Catherwood. His
father had disowned him the day before . His two
brothers, George and little Spencer? were in a house not
far sna>y» — & kous© from whick a str&rge fag droop©4.
m TI£R CE1SIE
Clouds were lowering over the city, and big drops fail,
ing, as Stephen threaded his way homeward, the damp
and gloom of the weather in his very soul. He went past
the house where the strange flag hung against its staff
In that big city it flaunted all unchallenged, The house
Was thrown wide open that day, and in its windows
.lounged young men of honored families. And while they
joked of German 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 Men^ organ
ized to maintain the honor and dignity of the state o!
Missouri.
Across the street from the house was gathered a knot of
curious people, and among these Stephen paused, Twc
young 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
agone- That was the unquenchable fire of the war The
blood throbbed in his temples as his feet obeyed* — and
yet he stopped.
What right had he to pull down that flag> to die m tfa*
pavement before that house ?
CHAPTER XY&
CAMP JACKSON
What enthusiasm on that gusty Monday mornings the
Sixth of May, 1861 ! Twelfth Street to the north of
the Market House is full three hundred feet across, and
the militia of the Sovereign State of Missouri is gather-
ing there* Thence by order of her Governor they are to
march to Camp Jackson for a week of drill and instruction,
Half a mile nearer the river, on the house of the Min-
ute Men, the strange flag leaps wildly in the wind this day.
On Twelfth Street the sun is shining, drums are beating,
*nd bands are playing, and bright aides dashing hither and
thither on spirited chargers* One by one the 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 and
Washington Blues, and Laclede Guards and Missouri
Guards and Davis Guards. Yes, this is Secession Day,
this Monday, And the colors are the Stars and Stripes
and the Arms of Missouri crossed.
What are they waiting for? Why don't they move?
Hark ! 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 I Here they come at
last, four and four, the horses prancing and dancing and
pointing quivering ears at the tossing sea of hats and para-
sols and ribbons, Maude Catherwood squeezes Virginia's
*.rm. There, riding in front, erect and firm in the saddle,
5fi Captain Clarence Colfax, Virginia is red and white,
. 261
262 THE CRISIS
and red again, — true colors of the Confederacy, How
proud she was of him now ! How ashamed that she eves
doubted him ! Oh, that was his true calling, a soldier's
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
diem 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 riding.
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
young captain, who rides straight to the bright group which
has caught his eye. Colonel Carvel wrings his gauntleted
hand.
44 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.
s* Clarence, you will drive Captain Lyon and his Hessians
into the river."
"Hush, Jinny," he answered, "we are merely going
mto 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.
44 You will have 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 En
€AMP JACKSON 263
ge^nie to press hisc Then he goes off at a slow canter
to join his dragoons, waving his glove at them, and turn-
ing to give the sharp order, " Attention I " to his squadron,
Virginia is deliriously 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 Maurice had told the story =
And now at last the city is to shake off the dust of the
North. " On to Camp Jackson I ' 5 was the cry. The
bands are started, the general and staff begin to move,
and the column swings into the Olive Street road, followed
by a concourse of citizens awheel and afoot, the horse cars
crowded. Virginia and Maude and the Colonel in the
Carvel carriage, and behind Ned, on the box, is their lun-
cheon in a hamper* Standing up, the girls can just see
the nodding plumes of the dragoons far to the front.
Olive Street, now paved with hot granite and disfigured
by trolley wires, was a countiy road then. Green trees
took the place of crowded rows of houses and stores, and
little " bob-tail w yellow cars were drawn by plodding
mules to an inclosure 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=
lences which have long shown the wear cf time.
Into Lindell Grove flocked the crowd, the rich and the
poor, the proprietor and the salesmen, to watch the soldiers
pitch their tents under the spreading trees c The gallant-
dragoons were off to the west, across a little stream which
trickled through the grounds. By the side of it Virginia
and Maude, enchanted, beheld Captain Colfaz shouting
his orders while his troopers dragged the canvas from the
wagons, and staggered under it to the line. Alas ! that
the girls were there ! 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
264 THE CBISJS
pulled his goatee and guffawedo Virginia was for moving
away
-^How mean, Pa,'" sh^ said indignantly, "How cati
you expect them to do it right the first day, and in this
wind ? "
" Oh, Jinny, look at Maurice 1 ' exclaimed Maude, gig
glingo M 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.
u 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 and Stripes from the general's tent
Do you see that they are above the state flag? Jinny ;
you forget yourself/'
Jinny stamped her foot,
" Oh, I hate dissimulation, ' she cried, M Why can't we
say outright that we are going to run that detestable
Captain Lyon and his Yankees and Hessians out of the
"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.
M If we were," answered Virginia, " something 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
George Catherwood.
" Come, Jinny/" cried her cousin, u let us go over to the
main camp,"
CAMP JACKSOH 26£
*And walk on Davis Avenue,'5 said Virginia, fluslilng
vith pride. "Isn't there a Davis Avenue?"
-f Yes, and a Lee Avenue, and a Beauregard Avenue/'
said George, taking his sister's arma
" We shall walk in them all," said Virginia.
What a scene of animation it was! The rustling trees
and the 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
well.
Every afternoon Virginia drove with her father and
her aunt to Camp Jackson All the fashion and beauty
of the city 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. All was not soldier fare at the regimental
messes* Cakes and jellies and even ices and more sub-
stantial dainties 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. Eiiphalet had had political
ambition, or political leanings, during the half-year which
had just passed, he had not shown them, Mr. Ciuyme
(no mean business man himself) had pronounced Eiiphalet
a conservative young gentleman who attended to his own
affairs and let the mad country take care of itselfe This
is precisely the wise course Mr, Hopper chose. Seeing
a regiment of Missouri Volunteers slouching down Fiftfc
Street in citizens' clothes} he Lad been remarked to smi^
266 THE CEISIS
cynically. 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'clockc 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, telling 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 corner 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 growing a little stout, — in
a light gray jacket and duck trousers, and laughed.
Eliphalet was not burdened with illusions of chat kind.
These heroes might have their hero-worship. Life held
something dearer for him.
As he was sauntering toward a deserted 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
his 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
Ms hat grudgingly to Miss Belle. He had never liked the
custom.
" I hope 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 High-
ness when he was here last fall. 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 gaze
wander over the camp, he added casually : " I see 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 spare the
pains of a reply, a "Jenny Lind" passed them. Miss
Belle recognized the carriage immediately as belonging
to an elderly lady who was well known in St. Louis.
Every 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 Eliphalet; "but I cal'late she's
got stouter."
"What do you mean by that?" Miss Belle demanded.
" That Union principles must be healthy," said he, and
laughed.
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 boots, 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 ! "
Virginia turned impatiently. The look she bestowed
upon Miss Cluyme was not one of welcome, but Belle was
not sensitive. Putting her arm through Virginia's, she
sauntered off with the pair 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. Cluyme0
"And a deserving one, Mr. Hopper. Now, she is my
notion of quality. She has wealth, and manners, and
looks. And her father is a good man. Too bad he holds
CAMP JACKSON 268
such views on secession. I have always thought, sir, that
you were singularly fortunate in your connection with
him."
There was a point of light now in each of Mr. Hopper's
green eyes. But Mr. Cluyme continued : —
" What a pity, I say, that he should run the risk of crir>
pling himself by his opinions. Times are getting hard/
"Yes," said Mr. Hopper.
" And southwestern notes are not worth the paper they
are written on — "
But Mr. Cluyme has misjudged his man. If he had come
to Eliphalet 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 conversation 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.
*******
That same Thursday, when the first families of the city
were whispering jubilantly in each other's ears of the safe
arrival 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, far 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
into 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 ? "
" Does that mean Camp Jackson ? " asked Stephen, wheia
they had reached the street.
270 THE CRISIS
* Captain Lyon is not the man to sit still and let the
Governor take the first trick, sir," said the Judge.
As they got on the Fifth Street car, Stephen's attention
was at once attracted to a gentleman who sat in a corner,
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.
64 That is Major William T. Sherman," said the Judge
to Stephen. " He used to be in the army, and fought in
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 going 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 early
in '61.
The Judpe anook his head. "We may pull out," he
said.
" Pull out ! " 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 surroundings.
" I have faith in Mr. Lincoln. He is calling out volun-
teers."
" Seventy-five thousand 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
Mr0 Lincoln would draw all the water before he got
CAMP JACKSON 271
*Upon my soul,** said Mr. Sherman, "I'm disgusted.
Now's the time to stop 'em. The longer we let 'em rear
and kick, the harder to break 'em. You don't catch me
going back to the army for three months. If they want
,ine, they've got to guarantee me three years. That's
more like it." Turning to Stephen, he added: "Don't
you sign any three months' contract, young man."
Stephen grew red. By this time the car was full, and
silent. No one had offered to quarrel with the Major*
Nor did it seem likely that any one would,
" I'm afraid I can't go, sir."
"Why not?" demanded Mr. Sherman*
"Because, sir," said the Judge, bluntly, "his mother's
& widow, and they have no money. He was a lieutenant
in one of Blair's companies before the call came/*
The Major looked at Stephen, and his expression changed,
" Find it pretty hard ? " he asked.
Stephen's expression must have satisfied him, but he
nodded again, more vigorously than before.
" Just you wait, Mr. Brice," he said. " It won't hurt
you any."
Stephen was grateful. But he hoped to fall out of the
talk. Much to his discomfiture, the Major gave him
another of those queer looks. His whole manner, and
even his appearance, reminded Stephen strangely of Cap-
tain Elijah Brent.
"Aren't you the young man who made the Union
speech in Mercantile Library Hall?"
" Yes, sir," said the Judge. " He is."
At that the Major put out his hand impulsively, and
gripped Stephen's.
" Well, sir," he said, " I have yet to read a more sen
sible speech, except some of Abraham Lincoln's. Brins
made gave it to me to read» Whipple, that speech
reminded me of Lincoln. It was his style. Where did
you get it, Mr. Brice ? " he demanded.
" I heard Mr. Lincoln's debate with Judge Douglas a*
Freeport," said Stephen, beginning to be amused.
Tk© Ma^or laughed.
272 THE CEISIS
"I admire your frankness, sir," he said. WI mean*
to say that its logic rather than its substance reminded
me of Lincoln,"
"I tried to learn what I could from him, Major Sher-
man."
At length the car stopped, 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 their pockets, for there were
not enough belts to go around. The men were standing
at ease, and as Stephen saw them laughing and joking
iightheartedly 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 ! " cried the Major, " he's a man after my
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
look at him ! "
The gallant Captain was a sight, indeed, and vividly
described by Major Sherman's picturesque words as he
raced from regiment to regiment, and from company to
company, with his sandy hair awry, pointing, gesticulating,
commanding. In him Stephen recognized the 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 d 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
hire,' gravels that the state troops were there for peac@0
CAMP JACKSON 273
After the ranks were broken, Major Sherman and the
» udge went to talk to Captain Lyon and the Union Leader,
who was now a Colonel of one of the Volunteer regiments*
Stephen sought Richter, who told him that the regiments
were to assemble the morning of the morrow, prepared tc
march.
" To Camp Jackson ? " asked Stephen,
Richter shrugged his shoulders.
" We are not consulted, my friend," he said, u Will
you come into my quarters and have a bottle of beer with
Tiefel?"
Stephen went. It was not their fault that his sense of
their comradeship was gone* To him it was as if the ties
that had bound him to them were asunder, and he was
become an outcast*
CHAPTER XVIII
^HB STONE THAT IS REJECTED
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-day," he said to his mother after breakfast, when Hester
had 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 regimentSo
Something was in the wind. Any one could see that from
the way Lyon was flying about. I think he must have
proof that the Camp Jackson people have received supplies
from the South."
Mrs. Brice looked fixedly at her son, and then smiled in
spite of the apprehension she felt.
64 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,
Brinsmade 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 Mm
27C
THE STONE THAT IS REJECTED 27§
Brice. Stephen did not remark the little falter in hei
voice. He laughed over the recollection of the conversa-
tion in the street car.
44 Not unless matters in Washington change to suit him,5*
he said. " He thinks that things have been very badly
managed, and does not scruple to say so anywhere. I
could not have believed it possible that two men could
have talked in public as he and Judge Whipple did yester-
day and not be shot down. I thought that it was as much
as a man's life is worth to mention allegiance to the Unior*
here in a crowd. And the way Mr. Sherman pitched into
the ( Rebels' in that car full of people was enough to make
your hair stand on end."
" He must be a bold man," murmured Mrs, Brice,
"Does he think that the — the Rebellion can be put
down?"
" Not with seventy-five thousand men, nor with ten times
that number."
Mrs. Brice sighed, and furtively wiped her eyes with
her handkerchief,
" I am afraid we shall see great misery, Stephen,'* she
said.
He was silent. From that peaceful little room war
and its horrors seemed very far away. The morning sun
poured in through the south windows and was scattered
by the silver on the sideboard. From above, on the wall,
Colonel Wilton Brice gazed soberly down. Stephen's eyes
lighted on the portrait, and his thoughts flew back to the
boyhood days when he used to ply his 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 tears, the
heartrending, tearing apart for all time of loving ones who
have grown together, — these were not upon that canvas,
Will war ever be painted with a wart ?
The sound of feet was heard on the pavement. Stephen
rose, glancing at his mother, Her face was still upon he?
knitting.
m THE CKXSIS
* I am going to the Arsenal," he saicL " I must see what
Is happening/
To her, as has been said, was given wisdom beyond most
women. She did not try to prevent him as he kissed 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 hot 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
uhem, 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 en 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,
Cluyme. It was Mr. Cluynie 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. Cluyme 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 9ft
Stephen, listening with growing indignation to this talk
was unaware of a man who stood on the other side of the
tree, and who now came forward before Mr. Hopper. He
presented a somewhat uncompromising front. Mr. Cluyme
instantly melted away.
" My friend," said the stranger, quietly, " I think we
have met before, when your actions were not greatly to
your credit. I do not forget a face, even when I see it in
the dark. Now I hear you utter words which are a dis°
grace to a citizen of the United States. I have some
respect for a rebel. I have none for you, sir."
As soon as Stephen recovered from the shock of his sur-
prise, he saw that Eliphalet had changed countenance,
The manner of an important man of affairs, which he had
so assiduously cultivated, fell away from him. He took
r step backward, and his eyes made an ugly shift. Stephen
rejoiced to see the stranger turn his back on the manager
of Carvel & Company before that dignitary had time to
depart, and stand unconcernedly there as if nothing had
occurred.
Then Stephen stared at him.
He was not a man you would look at twice, ordinarily.
He was smoking a great El Sol cigar. He wore clothes
that were anything but new, a slouch hat, and coarse-
grained, square-toed boots. His trousers were creased at
the knees. His head fell forward a little from his square
shoulders, and leaned a bit to one side, as if meditatively,
He had a light brown beard that was reddish in the sun,
and he was rather short than otherwise.
This was all that Stephen saw. And yet the very plain-
ness of the man's appearance only added to his curiosity.
Who was this stranger? His words, his action, too, had
been remarkable. The art of administering a rebuke like
that was not given to many men. It was perfectly quietj
perfectly final. And then, when it was over, he had turned
his 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 csn
m8 THE CEISIS
versation with Mr* Cluyme had given him no shock in the
way of a revelation. But if Hopper were a rogue, ought
not Colonel Carvel 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
Ms 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
&addle, chatting with other officers around him.
Then the stranger stepped across the limestone gutter
&nd walked up to the Colonel's horse. He was still
smoking* Thi3 move, too, was surprising enough. It
&rgued even more assurance. Stephen listened intently =,
" Colonel Blair, my name is Grant," he said briefly o
The Colonel faced quickly about, and held out his
gloved hand cordially,
" Captain Ulysses Grant," said he; " of the old army? "
Mr. Grant nodded,
66 1 wanted tc 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 1
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- j !
sral's office of the state, I ruled blanks* and made out j |
forms for a whilee" He paused, as if to let the humble char- j :
acter of this position sink into the Colonel's comprehension. J
"Then they found out that I'd been quartermaster and J
commissary, and knew something about military orders, 5
New I'm a state mustering officer. I came down tc Belle*
Grille to muster in & regiment* which wasn't ready* And
io I ran over hers to see what you fellows were dcingc"
BE this humM© account had Keen delivered Tcl^blj« IDA
THE STONE THAT IS REJECTED <m'%
n another tone, it is probable that the citizen-coionel
maid not have listened, since the events of that day were
>>o crown his work of a winter. But Mr. Grant possessed
n manner of holding attention. It was very evident, how=
over* that Colonel Blair had other things to think ot
Nevertheless he said kindly: —
u Aren't you going in, Grant ? "
" I can't afford to go in as a captain of volunteers," was
he calm reply. " I served nine years in the regular army;
ind I think I can command a regiment,"
The Colonel, whose attention was called away s4: that
noment, did not reply. Mr. Grant moved off up the
.treet. Some of the younger officers who were there,
aughed as they followed his retreating figure.
" Command a regiment ! " cried one, a lieutenant whom
Jtephen recognized as having been a book-keeper at
Ldwards, James, & Doddington's, and whose stiff blue
tniform coat creased awkwardly. " I guess I'm about as
it to command a regiment as Grant is."
"That man's forty years old, if he's a day," put in
,nother. " I remember when he came here to St. Louis
n '54j played out. He'd resigned from the army on
he Pacific Coast. He put up a log cabin down on the
jravois Road, and there he lived in the hardest luck of
^ny man I ever saw until last year. You remember him?
Toe."
ts Yep," said Joe= u I spotted him by the El Sol cigar,
le used to bring a load of wood to the city once in
, while, and then he'd go over to the Planters' House, or
omewhere else, and smoke one of these long fellows, an<i
it against the wall as silent as a wooden Indian. Aftei-
hat he came up to the city without his family and went
htc real estate one winter. But he didn't make it go.
furious, it is just a year ago this month that he went over
o Illinois. He's an honest fellow, and hard working
mough, but he don't know how. He's just a dead failure.
" Command a regiment ! " laughed the first, again, as if
this in particular had struck his sense of humor, " I guess
le won t get a regiment in a hurry0 T&ess's lots of tfaoM
m THE OBISIS
arilitazy s&spet-b&ggers hanging arosoid fas good jdbj
HOW."
-*He might fool yosi fellows yet," said the one called
Joe, though his tone was not one of conviction, "I under-
stand he had a first-rate record in the Mexican War/5
Just then an aide rode up, and the Colonel gave a sharp
command which put an end to this desultory talk. Aa
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
draj-3 were halted here and there on the corners, the white
©yes 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
wiiite hairs uncovered* The third was Jack. His sister
was clinging to him appealinglyy and he struggling in her
frasp. Out of his coat pocket hung the curved butt of a
ig pepper-box revolver.
6' Let me go, Anne ! " he cried. " Do you think I can
stay here while my people are shot down hj a lot of damnef
Dutchmen ? " .
" John," said Mrc Brinsmade, sternly, 4* I cannot let yom
Join a mob I cannot let you shoot at men who carry the
Union flag. '
46 You cannot prevent me, sir/* shouted the young man,
in a frenzy. " When foreigners take our flag for their
swn, it is time for us to shoot them down,"
Wrenching himself free? he ran down the steps and flj
the street ahead of the regiment. Then the soldier an
to nois^ crowd were upon them ; and while these were
§
THE RTOKE TSJJ2 IS BEJ^CTED SHU
Rasing* the two stood there as in a dream. After that i
silence fell upon the street, and Mr. Brinsmade turned and
went back into the house, his head bowed as in prayer
Stephen and his mother drew back* but Anne saw them,
6* He is a rebel," she faltered, <s It will break my father'?
aeart."
She looked at Stephen appealinglys unashamed of t&e
tears in her eyes, Then she, too, went in,
M I cannot stay here* mother," he said
As he slammed the gate, Anne ran down the stepe, sail
ing his name, He paused, and she caught his sleeve,
w I knew you would go," she said, " I knew you would
Mb Oh, Stephen, you have a cool head. Try to keep Jack
— out of mischief."
He left her standing on the pavement But when he
reached the corner and looked back he saw that she had
gone in at his own little gate to meet his mother, Then
pe walked rapidly westward, Now and again he was
^topped by feverish questions, but at length he reached
&he top of the second ridge from the river, along which
crowded Eighteenth Street now runs, There stood the
;uew double mansion Mr, Spencer Catherwood had built
(two years before on the outskirts of the town* with the
wall at the side, and the brick stable and stable yard* As
•Stephen approached it, the thought came to him how little
$his world's goods avail in times of trouble, One of the
big Catherwood boys was in the blue marching regiments
£hat day, and had been told by his father never again to
jlarken his doors Another was in Clarence Colfax's com
ipany of dragoons, and still another had fled southward the
pight after Sumter.
Stephen stopped at the crest of the hill, in the white
iust of the new-turned street, to gaze westward, Clouds
.were gathering in the sky, but the sun still shone brightly.
Halfway up the rise two blue lines had crawled, followed by
ilack splotches, and at the southwest was the glint of the
^uxi on rifle barrels, Directed by a genius in the art of
par, the regiments were closing about Camp Jackson,
ks tm sisod tb.ere meditating, and paying no atteufckM*
282 THE CRISIS
to those who hurried past, a few familiar notes were struck
on a piano. They came through the wide -shuttered win-
dow above his head. Then a girl's voice rose above the
notes, in tones that were exultant : —
" Away down South in de fields of cotton,
Cinnamon seed and sandy bottom,
Look away, look away,
Look away, look away.
Den I wish I was in Dixie's Land,
Oh, oh ! oh, oh !
In Dixie'j Land I'll take my stand,
And live and die in Dixie's Land.
Away, away, away.
Away down South in Dixie.5*
The song ceased amid peals of girlish laughter. Stephen
was rooted to the spot.
" Jinny ! Jinny Carvel, how dare you ! " 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 g winter 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.**
jMore 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 striding
down the hill.
CHAPTER XIX
THE TENTH OF MAY
Would the sons of the first families surrender!
u Never ! " cried a young lady who sat behind the blinds
in Mrs. Catherwood's parlor. It seemed to her when she
stopped to listen for the first guns of the coming battle
that the tumult in her heart would drown their roar.
" But, Jinny," ventured that Miss Puss Russell who never
feared to speak her mind, "it would be folly for them to
fight. The Dutch and Yankees outnumber them ten to one,
and they haven't any powder and bullets."
" And Camp Jackson is down in a hollow," said Maude
Catherwood, dejectedly. And yet hopefully, too, for at
the thought of bloodshed she was near to fainting.
" Oh," exclaimed Virginia, passionately, " I believe you
want them to surrender. I should rather see Clarence dead
than giving his sword to a Yankee."
At that the other two were silent again, and sat on through
an endless afternoon of uncertainty and hope and dread in
the darkened room. Now and anon Mr. Catherwood's
heavy step was heard as he paced the hall. From time to
time they glanced at Virginia, as if to fathom her thought.
She and Puss Russell had come that day to dine with
Claude. Mr. Catherwood's Ben, reeking of the stable,
had brought the rumor of the marching on the camp into
the dining-room, and close upon the heels of this the rum-
ble of the drums and the passing of Sigel's regiment. It
was Virginia who had the presence of mind to slam the
blinds in the faces of the troops, and the crowd had cheered
her. It was Virginia who flew to the piano to play Dixie
ere they could get by, to the awe and admiration of the
girls and the delight of Mr. Catherwood, who applauded
2»3
284 THE CEISIS
her spirit despite the trouble which weighed upon Mxe,
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 blind. 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 with their coarse and ill-fitting uni°
forms of blue.
Virginia shut the blinds. Not a word escaped her, nor
con Id 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 : —
M Camp Jackson has surrendered ! "
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.
'6 1 do not believe it ! " she cried. u I cannot believe
it!"
The girls gathered around her, pale and frightened and
asurioQS. Suddenly courage returned to her, the courage
THE TENTH OF MAY 285
which made Spartans of Southern women. She ran to the
front door. Mr. Catherwood was on the sidewalk, talking
to a breathless man. That man was Mr. Barbo, Colonel
Carvel's book-keeper.
" Yes," he was saying, " they — they surrendered. There
was nothing else for them to do. They were surrounded
and overpowered."
Mr. Catherwood uttered an oath. But it did not shock
Virginia.
" And not a shot fired?" he said.
"And not a shot fired?" Virginia repeated, mechanically.
Both men turned. Mr. Barbo took off his hat.
" No, ma'am."
" Oh, how could they ! " exclaimed Virginia.
Her words seemed to arouse Mr. Catherwood from a kind
jf stupor. He turned, and took her hand.
" Virginia, we shall make them smart for this yet, My
God ! " he cried, " what have I done that my son should
be a traitor, in arms against his own brother fighting for
his people ? To think that a Catherwood should be with
the Yankees ! You, Ben," he shouted, suddenly perceiving
an object for his anger. " What do you mean by coming
out of the yard? By G — d, I'll have you whipped. I'll
show you niggers whether you're to be free or not."
And Mr. Catherwood was a good man, who treated his
servants well. Suddenly he dropped Virginia's hand and
ran westward down the hill. Well that she could not see
beyond the second rise !
Let us go there — to the camp. Let us stand on the
little mound at the northeast of it5 on the Olive Street
Road, whence Captain Lyon's artillery commands it. What
a change from yesterday ! Davis Avenue is no longer a
fashionable promenade, flashing with bright dresses. Those
quiet men in blue, who are standing beside the arms of the
state troops, stacked and surrendered, are United States
regulars. They have been in Kansas, and are used to scenes
of this sort.
The five Hessian regiments have surrounded the camp0
Each commander has obeyed the master mind of his chief?
THE CRISIS
who has calculated the time of marching with precision,
Here, at the western gate, Colonel Blair's regiment is m
open order. See the prisoners taking their places betweer.
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 officer 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
u Mudsills ! " " Negro Worshippers ! "
Yes, the crowd is there, seething 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 ! 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 pressing forward
vindictively until stopped by the sergeants and corporals.
Listen to them calling to sons, and brothers, and husbands
in gray ! See, there is a woman who spits in a soldier's
face!
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-
ful 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 Jet Davis!" and "Damn the Dutch!" "Kill the
Hessians ? "
Stephen Briee stood among the people in LindelTs
&ove3 looking up at the troops on the road? wMck ww
THE TENTH OF MAY 28?
3n an embankment. Through the rows of faces he had
searched in vain for one. His motive he did not attempt
to fathom — in truth, he was not conscious at the time
of any motive. He heard the name shouted at the gate,
" Here they are, — the dragoons ! Three cheers for Col-
fax ! Down with the Yankees ! M
A storm of cheers and hisses followed. Dismounted, at
the head of his small following, the young Captain walked
erect. He did not seem to hear the cheers. His face was
set, and he held his gloved hand over the place where his
sword had been, as if over a wound. On his features, in
his attitude, was stamped the undying determination of
the South. How those thoroughbreds of the Cavaliers
showed it ! Pain they took lightly. The fire of humilia-
tion burned, but could not destroy their indomitable spirit,
They were the first of their people in the field, and the
last to leave it. Historians may say that the classes of
the South caused the war; they cannot say that they
did not take upon themselves the greatest burden of the
suffering.
Twice that day was the future revealed to Stephen,
Once as he stood on the hill-crest, when he had seen a girl
in crimson and white in a window, — in her face. And
now again he read it in the face of her cousin. It was as
if he had seen unrolled the years of suffering that were to
come.
In that moment of deep bitterness his reason wavered,
What if the South should win? Surely there was no
such feeling in the North as these people betrayed. That
most dangerous of gifts, the seeing of two sides of a quar-
rel, had been given him. He saw the Southern view,
He sympathized with the Southern people. They had
befriended him in his poverty, Y/hy had he not been
born, like Clarence Colfax, the owner of a large planta-
tion, the believer in the divine right of his race to rule?
Then this girl who haunted his thoughts I Would that
Ms path had been as straight, his duty as easy, as that of
^he handsome young Captain !
Presently these thoughts were distracted by the sight
ggg THE CEISIB
or 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 wag
pulling a small 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
in the street car the day before. Somehow Stephen was
fascinated by the decision and energy of Mr. Sherman's
slightest movements. He gave Major Saxton a salute,
quick and geniaL Then, almost with one motion he un-
rolled the newspaper, 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 lines. 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,
tumbling 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 loud command of the officers, and the ranks faced out
with level guns* Stephen reached for 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 leaves and branches began to falL
Between the popping of the shots sounded the shrieks o£
wounded women and children, the groans and curses of
men, and the stampeding of hundreds.
"Lie down, Brice! For God's sake lie down!" Mr.
Sherman cried.
He was about to obey when a young man, small and
THE TENTH OF MAY 289
agile, ran past him from behind, heedless of the panic0
Stopping at the foot of the bank he dropped on one knee?
resting his revolver in the hollow of his left arm. It was
Jack Brinsmade. At the same time two of the soldiers
above lowered their barrels to cover him. Then smoke
hid the scene. When it rolled away, Brinsmade lay on
the ground. He staggered to his feet with an oath, and
confronted a young man who was hatless, and upon whose
forehead was burned a black powder mark.
" Curse you 1 " he cried, reaching out wildly ; " curse you,
you d — d Yankee. I'll teach you to fight ! "
Maddened, he made a rush at Stephen's throat. But
Stephen seized his hands and bent them down, and held
them firmly while he kicked and struggled.
" Curse you ! " he panted ; " curse you, you let me go and
I'll kill you, — you Yankee upstart ! "
But Stephen held on. Brinsmade became more and
more frantic. One of the officers, seeing the struggle^
started down the bank, was reviled, and hesitated. At
that moment Major Sherman came between them.
" Let him go, Brice," he said, in a tone of commando
Stephen did as he was bid. Whereupon Brinsmade
*nade a dash for his pistol on the ground. Mr. Sherman
was before him.
" Now see here, Jack,'"' he said, picking it up, " I don't
want to shoot you, but I may have to. That young man
saved your life at the risk of his own. If that fool Dutch-
man had had a ball in his gun instead of a wad, Mr. Brice
would have been killed."
A strange thing happened. Brinsmade took one long
look at Stephen, turned on his heel, and walked off rapidly
through the grove. And it may be added that for some
years after he was not seen in St. Louis.
For a moment the other two stood staring after him=
Then Mr. Sherman took his boy by the hand.
" Mr. Brice," he said, " I've seen a few things done in
my life, but nothing better than this. Perhaps the day
may come when you and I may meet in the armyc They
don't seem to think much of us now," he added, smiling ,
290 THE CRISIS
^but we may be of use to 'em later. If ever I can serve
you, Mr. Brice, 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 b}r 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 closed and dark. In the windows
and on the steps of others women are ciying or waving
handkerchiefs and calling out to the prisoners, some of
whom are gay, and others sullen. A distracted father
tries to break through the ranks and rescue his son. Alio
here is the Catherwood house. That is open. Mrs
Catherwood, 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 oi
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
•behind the old people, dry-eyed^ their handkerchiefs iz
THE TENTH OF MAY 291
their hands. Some of the prisoners take off their hats and
smile at the young lady with the chiselled features and
brown hair, who wears the red and white of the South as
if she were born to them. Her eyes are searching. Ah, at
last she sees him, walking erect at the head of his dragoons.
He gives her one look of entreaty, and that smile which
should have won her heart long ago. As if by common
consent the heads of the troopers are uncovered before her,
How bravely she waves at them until they are gone down
the street ! Then only do her eyes fill with tears, and she
passes into the house.
Had she waited, she might have seen a solitary figure
leaving the line of march and striding across to Pine
Street.
That night the sluices of the heavens were opened, and
the blood was washed from the grass in Lindell Grove.
The rain descended in floods on the distracted city, and
the great river rose and flung brush from Minnesota
forests high up on the stones of the levee. Down in the
long barracks weary recruits, who had stood and marched
all the day long, went supperless to their hard pallets.
Government fare was hard. Many a boy, prisoner or vol«
unteer, sobbed himself to sleep in the darkness. All were
prisoners alike, prisoners of war. Sobbed themselves to
sleep, to dr^am of the dear homes that were here within
sight and sound of them, and to which they were powerless
to go. Sisters, and mothers, and wives were there, beyond
the rain, holding out arms to them.
Is war a thing to stir the blood? Ay, while the day
lasts. But what of the long nights when husband and wife
have lain side by side? What of the children who ask
piteously where their father is going, and who are gathered
by a sobbing mother to her breast ? Where is the picture
of that last breakfast at home ? So in the midst of the
cheer which is saddest in life comes the thought that, just
one year ago, he who is the staff of the house was wont to
-sit down just so merrily to his morning meal, before going
to work in the office. Why had they not thanked God on
their knees for peace while" they had it?
292 THE CEISIS
See the brave little wife waiting on the porch of hw?e
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! Was that the beat of the drums? Or
was it thunder ? Her good neighbors, the doctor and his
wife, come in at the little gate to cheer her. She does not
hear them. Why does God mock her with sunlight and
with friends?
Tramp, tramp, tramp ! 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. " Will, are the flannels in your knapsack ? You
have not forgotten that medicine for your cough? " What
courage sublime is that 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 I 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?"
M I think nots sir,5* Stephen answered, with eie*ar eves
THE TENTH OF MAY 233
¥t saw him walking southward after the firing was all
Thank God," exclaimed Mr. Brinsmade, fervently,
* If jou will excuse me, madam, I shall hurry to tsll my
wife and daughter. I have been able to find no one who
saw him."
As he went out he glanced at Stephen's forehead. But
for once in his life, Mr. Brinsmade was too much agitated
to inquire about the pain of another,
M Stephen, you did not tell me that you saw John," said
klfl mother* when the door was closed*
CHAPTER XX
IN THE ARSENAL
There was a dismal tea at Colonel Carvel's house* m
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 wash the foam from her panting horseSo
She did not wait for Jackson to come out with an umbrella,
but rushed through the wet from the carriage to the door
in her haste to urge the Colonel to go to the Arsenal and
demand Clarence's 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
Virginia heard her sobs as she went down to tea.
The Colonel made no secret of his uneasinesso 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 which 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 fatigue . When shs
$goke> there was little life in her voice.
2-34
m THE AESENAL 296
u Aren't you going to the Planters' House, Pa ? w
The Colonel turned, and tried to smile.
"I reckon not to-night, Jinny. Why?"
" To find out what they are going to do with Clarence,
she said indignantly.
" I reckon they don't know at the Planters' House," he
said. ,
" Then — " began Virginia, and stoppedc
" Then what?'' he asked, stroking her hau\
"Then why not go to the Barracks? Order tht car*
riage, and I will go with you."
His smile faded. He stood looking down at her fixedly,
as was sometimes his habit. Grave tenderness was in his
tone.
" Jinny,'* he said slowly, " Jinny, do you mean to marry
Clarence?"
The suddenness of the question took her breath. But
she answered steadily : —
"Yes."
" Do you love him ? "
"Yes," she answered. But her lashes fell.
Still he stood, and it seemed to her that her father's gaz©
pierced to her secret soul.
" Come here, my dear," he said.
Pie held out his arms, and she fluttered into them. The
tears were come at last. It was not the first time she had
cried out her troubles against that great heart which had
ever been her strong refuge. From childhood she had been
comforted there. Had she broken her doll, had Mammy
Easter been cross, had lessons gone wrong at school, was
she ill, or weary with that heaviness of spirit which is
woman's inevitable lot, — this was her sanctuary. But now '
This burden God Himself had sent, and none save her
Heavenly Father might cure it. Through his great love
lor her it was given to Colonel Carvel to divine it — only
vaguely.
Many times he strove to speak, and could not. But
presently, as if ashamed of her tears, she drew back from
him and took her old seat on the arm of his chair.
£96 OTE CRISIS
By the light of his intuition, the Colonel chose bis words
well. What he had to speak of was another 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 upcn his.
"And did you think I would care, dear?" she asked
gently. " I can bear with poverty and rags, to win this war,39
His own eyes were dim, but pride shone in them. Jack=
son came in on tiptoe, and hesitated. At the ColonePs
jaxotion 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?"
The Colonel gave a start.
" Why, yes, Jinny, He improved the business greatly
before this trouble came. And even now we are not in
such straits as some other houses."
44 Captain Lige doesn't like him."
M Lige has prejudices."
"So have I," said Virginia. "Eliphalet Hopper will
serve you so long as he serves himself. No longer."
M 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 are running the river. He keeps out of politics,,
and he has none of the Yankee faults."
44 1 wish he had," said Virginia.
The Colonel made no answer to thi3c Getting up, he
went over to the bell-cord at the door and pulled ik Jack*
son came in hurriedly.
64 Is my bag packed ? "
46 Yes, Marsa."
66 Where are you going ? ?? cried Virginia, in alarm*
Of THE? ARSENAL 297
36 To Jefferson City, dear, to see the Governor, I goS
word this afternoone"
M In the rain?"
He smiled, and stooped to kiss her.
M Yes," he answered, " in the rain as far as the depot,
I can trust you, Jinny . And Lige's boat will be back from
New Orleans to-morrow or Sunday."
The next morning the city awoke benumbed, her heart
beating but feebly o Her commerce had nearly ceased to
flow. A long line of boats lay idle, with noses to the
levee. Men stood on the street corners in the rain, read*
ing of the capture of Camp Jackson, and of the riot, and
thousands lifted up their voices to execrate the Foreign
City below Market Street. A vague terror, maliciously
born, subtly spread. The Dutch had broken up the camp,
a peaceable state institution, they had shot down innocent
women and children. What might they not do to the
defenceless city under their victorious hand, whose citizens
were nobly loyal to the South ? Sack it ? Yes, and burn9
and loot it. Ladies who ventured out that day crossed
the street to avoid Union gentlemen of their acquaintanceo
It was early when Mammy Easter brought the news-
paper to her mistress. Virginia read the news, and ran
joyfully to her aunt's room. Three times she knocked, and
then she heard a cry within. Then the key was turned
and the bolt cautiously withdrawn, and a crack of six inches
disclosed her aunt.
" Oh, how you frightened me, Jinny \ n she cried. ** I
thought it was the Dutch coming to murder us all. What
have they done to Clarence ? "
" We shall see him to-day, Aunt Lillian," was the joyful
answer. "The newspaper says that all the Camp Jackson
prisoners are to be set free to-day, on parole. Oh, I knew
they would not dare to hold them. The whole state would
bave risen to their rescue."
Mrs. Colfax did not receive these tidings with transports.
She permitted her niece to come into her room, and theE
sank into a chair before the mirror of her dressing-table,
and scanned her face there.
298 THE CEISIS
44 1 could not sleep a wink, Jinny, all night long. I look
wretchedly. I am afraid I am going to have another of
my attacks. How it is raining 1 What does the news=
paper say ? "
" I'll gut 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 ways — -
the barbarians ! I know he had to sleep on a dirty floor
with low-down trash."
" But we shall have him here to-night, Aunt Lillian ! ,;
cried Virginia. " Mammy, 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.
64 Rosetta, tell Ned I wish the carriage at once."
Her aunt seized her convulsively by 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 girPs anxious face.
" I am afraid that I must risk adding to your misfor
tune. Aunt Lillian," she said, and left the room*
IN THE ARSENAL 29§
Virginia drove to Mr. Brinsmade's. His was one of th©
Onion houses which she might visit and not lose her self
respect. Like many Southerners, when it became a ques-
tion of go or stay, Mr. Brinsmade's unfaltering love for the
Union had kept him in. He had voted for Mr. Bell, and
later had presided at Crittenden Compromise meetings.
In short, as a man of peace, he would have been willing to
sacrifice much for peace. And now that it was to be war^
and he had taken his stand uncompromisingly with the
Union, the neighbors whom he had befriended for so many
years could not bring themselves to regard him as an
enemy. He never hurt their feelings; and almost a»
soon as the war began he set about that work which has
been done by self-denying Christians of all ages,- — the relief
of suffering. He visited with comfort the widow and the
fatherless, and many a night in the hospital he sat through
beside the dying, Yankee and Rebel alike, and wrote their
last letters home.
And Yankee and Rebel alike sought his help and coun
sel in time of perplexity or trouble, rather than hot-
headed advice from their own leaders.
Mr. Brinsmade's own carriage was drawn up at his door>
and that gentleman himself standing on the threshold.
He came down his steps bareheaded in the wet to hand
Virginia from her carriage.
Courteous and kind as ever, he asked for her father and
her aunt as he led her into the house. However such
men may try to hide their own trials under a cheerful
mien, they do not succeed with spirits of a kindred
nature, With the others, who are less generous, it mat-
ters not. Virginia was not so thoughtless nor so selfish
that she could not perceive that a trouble had come to
this good man. Absorbed as she was in her own affairs^
she forgot some of them in his presence. The fire left her
tongue, and to him she could not have spoken harshly
even of an enemy. Such was her state of mind, when she
was led into the drawing-room. From the corner o-1: it
Anne arose and came forward to throw her arms around
her friend.
300 THE CKISIS
" Jinny, it was so good of you to come. You don't
hate 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 Grerman, I believe I should love you."
" How good of you to come. I should not have dared
go to your house, because I know that you feel so deeply.
You — you heard?"
" Heard what ? " asked Virginia, alarmed.
" That Jack has run away — has gone South, we think-
Perhaps," she cried, "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 is not dead," she said gently, but with a confix
dence in 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 honoredo
A life of service to others had made him guess that, in
the absence of her father, this girl had come to him for
help of some kind.
"Virginia is right, 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
yet her honesty was as great as Anne's. She would not
have it thought that she came for other reasons. "My
aunt is in such a state of worry over Clarence that I came
to ask you if you thought the news true, that the prisoners
are to be paroled. She thinks it is a — " Virginia
flushed, and bit a rebellious tongue. "She does net
believe it"
IN THE ARSENAL 305
Even good Mr. Brinsmade smiled at the slip she had
nearly made. He understood the girl, and admired her.
He also understood Mrs. Colfax.
"I will drive to the Arsenal with you, Jinny," he
answered. " I know Captain Lyon, and we shall find out
certainly."
" You will do nothing of the kind, sir," said Virginia^
with emphasis. " Had I known this — about John, I
^should not have come."
He checked her with a gesture. What a gentleman of
the old school he was, with his white ruffled shirt and his
black stock and his eye kindling with charity.
" My dear," he answered, " Nicodemus is waiting. I was
just going myself to ask Captain Lyon about John."
Virginia's further objections were cut short by the vie-
lent clanging of the door-bell, and the entrance of a tall,
energetic gentleman, whom Virginia had introduced to her
as Major Sherman, late of the army, and now president of
the Fifth Street Railroad. The Major bowed and shook
hands. He then proceeded, as was evidently his habit9
directly to the business on which he was come.
" Mr. Brinsmade," he said, " I heard, accidentally, half
an hour ago that you were seeking news of your son. I
regret to say, sir, that the news I have will not lead to a
knowledge of his whereabouts. But in justice to a young
gentleman of this city I think I ought to tell you what
happened at Camp Jackson."
" I shall be most grateful, Major. Sit down, sir.5'
But the Major did not sit down. He stood in the mid-
dle of the room. With some gesticulation which added
greatly to the force of the story, he gave a most terse and
vivid account of Mr. John's arrival at the embankment
by the grove — of his charging a whole regiment of Union
volunteers. Here was honesty again. Mr. Sherman did
not believe in mincing matters even to a father and
sister0
"And, sir," said he, "you may thank the young man
who lives next door to you — Mr, Brice, I believe — for
saving your son's life,"
303 THE CEISIS
u Stephen Brice 1 9' exclaimed Mr. Brinsmade- in astern*
'shment.
Virginia felt Anne's hand tighten. But her own was
dmp. A hot wave swept over her, Was she never tc
sear the end of this man ?
"Yes, sir, Stephen Brice," answered Mr. Sherman.
" And I never in my life saw a finer thing done, in thsi
Mexican War or out of it."
Mr. Brinsmade grew a little excited.
"Are you sure that 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 asked
him if he had seen Jack. He told me that he had, by the
smbankment. But he never mentioned a word about sav-
ing his life."
"He didn't!" cried the Major. "By glory, but he's
aven better than I thought him. Did you see a black
powder mark on his face?"
" Why, yes, sir, I saw a bad burn 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 cry — Virginia was silent.- Her lips
were parted. Though she realized it not, she was thirsting
fcc 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 throw the woman down and had cried to him to lie
down nimseif ; how the fire was darting down the regi-
ment, and how men «ind women were falling all about
them ; and how Stephen had flung Jack and covered him
with his body.
It was all vividly before Virginia's eyes. Had she any
right to treat such a man with contempt? She remen>
i'$m& hew lie had looked at her when he stood on the
IN THE ARSENAL 30£
sorner by the Catherwoods' house, And, worst of all, she
remembered many spiteful remarks she had made, even to
Anne, the gist of which had been that Mr. Brice was better
at preaching than at fighting. She knew now — and she
had known in her heart before — that this was the greats
est injustice she could have done him,
" But Jack ? What did Jack do ? "
It was Anne who tremblingly asked the Major. But
Mr. Sherman, apparently, was not the man to say that
Jack would have shot Stephen had he not interfered,
That was the ugly part of the story. John would have
shot the man who saved his life. To the day of his death
neither Mr. Brinsmade nor his wife knew this. But while
Mr. Brinsmade and Anne had gone upstairs to the sick-
bed, these were the tidings the Major told Virginia, who
kept it in her heart. The reason he told her was because
she had guessed a part of it.
Nevertheless Mr. Brinsmade drove to the Arsenal with
her that Saturday, in his own carriage. Forgetful of his
own grief, long habit came to him to talk cheerily with
her, He told her many little anecdotes of his travel, but
not one of them did she hear. Again, at the moment when
she thought her belief in Clarence and her love for him at
last secure, she found herself drawing searching compari-
sons between him and the quieter young Bostonian. In
spite of herself she had to admit that Stephen's deed was
splendid-. Was this disloyal? She flushed at the thought.
Clarence had been capable of the deed, — even to the
rescue of an enemy. But — alas, that she should carry it
cut to a remorseless end — would Clarence have been equal
to keeping silence when Mr. Brinsmade came to him?
Stephen Brice had not even told his mother, so Mr* Brins-
made believed.
As if to aggravate her torture, Mr. Brinsmade's talk
drifted to the subject of young Mr. Brice. T3his was but
natural, He told her of the brave struggle Stephen had
made, and how he had earned luxuries, and often neces-
sities, for his mother by writing for the newspaperso
65 Often,' * said Mr. Brinsmade, £4e£tes 5" nav® beesi
■904 THE CKISIS
Tinable to sleep, and have seen the light in Stephen's room
until the small hours of the morning."
M Oh, Mr. Brinsmade," cried Virginia. " Can't you tell
me something bad about him? Just once."
The good gentleman started, and looked searchingly
at the girl by his side, flushed and confused. Perhaps he
thought — -but how can we tell whaf 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 youug themselves, and that
some word or look of our own brings a part of their past
vividly before them. Mr. Brinsmade was silent, but he
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
signal. 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 yesterday!
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 Cath-
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
tike pavement after Ms choleric parent had gone or.
OT THE ARSEKAL SOfe
It was done, Of all the thousand and more young men
who had upheld the honor of their state that week, there
was but the one who chose to remain in durance vile
within the Arsenal wall — Captain Clarence Colfax, late
of the Dragoons.
Mr. Brinsmade was rapidly admitted to the Arsenal,
and treated with the respect which his long service to the
city deserved. He and Virginia were shown into the
bare military room of the commanding officer, and thither
presently came Captain Lyon himself. Virginia tingled
with antagonism when she saw this man who had made
the city tremble, who had set an iron heel on the flaming
brand of her Cause. He, too, showed the marks of his
Herculean labors, but only on his clothes and person,
His long red hair was unbrushed, his boots covered with
black mud, and his coat unbuttoned. His face was ruddy,
and his eye as clear as though he had arisen from twelve
hours' sleep. He bowed to Virginia (not too politely,
to be sure). Her own nod of bare recognition did not
seem to trouble him.
" Yes, sir," he said incisively, in response to Mr. Brins-
made's question, " we are forced to retain Captain Colfax,
He prefers to remain a prisoner until he is exchanged.
He refuses to take the oath of allegiance to the United
States."
" And why should he be made to, Captain Lyon ? In
what way has he opposed the United States troops ? "
It was Virginia who spoke. Both looked at her in
astonishment.
" You will pardon me, Miss Carvel," said Captain Lyon*
jravely, " if I refuse to discuss that question with you."
Virginia bit her tongue.
" I understand that Mr. Colfax is a near relative of yours.
Miss Carvel," the Captain continued, " His friends may
come here to see him during the day. And I believe it is
not out of place for me to express my admiration of the
Captain's conduct. You may care to see him now — "
■* Thank you," said Virginia, curtly.
M Orderly, my respects to Captain Colfax, and ask him II
306 THE CEISIS
he will be kind enough to come in here* Mr* Brinsmade,5*
^aid the Captain, " I should like a few words with you, sir.**
And so, thanks to the Captain's delicacy, when Clarence
arrived he found Virginia alone. She was much agitated.
She ran toward him as he entered the door, calling his
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
;£new that he could live on excitement. The thought came
to her — was it that which sustained him now? She put
.t away as treason. Surely the touch of this experience
would transform the boy into the man. This was the weak
point in the armor which she wore so bravely for her cousin.
He had grown up to idleness. He had known neither care
nor responsibility. His one longing from a child had been
ihat love of fighting and adventure which is born 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 joy of possessing her soul and affection,
h something more desirable still — fame and glory — per-
sonal fame and glory. The woman may share them, of
soorse, and be content with the radiance, WheR the
'Gtaverx&Hr is making his inauguration speech, does he
IN THE AKSESTAL 30?
always think of the help the little wife has given him?
And so, in moments of excitement, when we see far ahead
into a glorious future, we do not feel the arms about us,
or value the sweets which, in more humdrum days, we
labored so hard to attain.
Virginia drew away, and the one searching glance she
/ave him he did not see. He was staring far beyond*
» Tears started in her eyes, and she turned from him to look
'uut over the Arsenal grounds, still wet and heavy with the
night's storm. The day itself was dark and damp. She
thought of the supper cooking at home. It would not be
eaten now.
And yet, in that moment of bitterness Virginia loved
him* Such are the ways of women, even of the proudest,
who love their country too. It was but right that he
should not think of her when the honor of the South wa^s
at stake; and the anger that rose within her was against
those nine hundred and ninety-nine who had weekly ac-
cepted the parole.
"Why did Uncle Comyn not come?" asked CL&ience.
" He has gone to Jefferson City, to see the Goviunoro"
* And you came alone ? "
64 No5 Mr. Brinsmade brought me,"
"And mother?"
She was waiting for that question. What a relbf that
It should have come among the first.
" Aunt Lillian feels very badly, She was in het room
when I lefto She was afraid " (Virginia had to smile), "she
was afraid the Yankees would kill you."
u They have behaved very well for Yankees," replied ho,
* No luxury, and they will not hear of my having a servant
^They are used to doing their own work. But they "have
treated me much better since I refused to take their abomi-
nable oatho"
" And you will be honored for it when the news reaches
town "
" Do you think so, Jinny ? " Clarence asked eagerly * I
reckon they will think me a fooL"
" I should like tc hear any one say sos" she flashed o*fc
306 THE CEISIS
■( No/* said Virginia, u our friends will force them to release
you. I do not know much about law* But you have don©
nothing to be imprisoned for."
Clarence did not answer at once. Finally he said s —
u I do not want to be released."
46 You do not want to be released ! n she repeated,
"No," he said. 6*They can exchange me* If I remair
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 oves
that, She remembered once, long ago, when his mothei
had shut him up in his room for a punishment, and he had
tortured her by remaining there for two whole days.
It was well on in the afternoon when she drove back to
the city with Mr. Brinsraade. Neither of them had eateo
since morning, nor had they even thought of hunger. Mr
Brinsmade was silent, leaning back in the corner of the
carriage, 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 violently by the starting of the horses. As they
dashed across Walnut at Seventh 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
smcke hanging about the columns of the old Presbyterian
Church. Mtc 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 was speaking : ■ —
wFrom battle and murder, and from sudden death —
from all sedition, privy conspiracy? and rebellion, — Good
Lcrd{ deliver imJ"
He was repeating the Litany — that Litany which h&cS
<mme down through the &ge&0 They had chanted It is
Hr THE ABSENAL 33$
Jnouwaii'i feaei when homes were ruined and laid waste,
&?ad innocents slaughtered. They had chanted it on the
dark, barricaded stairways of xnedisevai Paris, through St.
Bartholomew's night, when the narrow and twisted streets
ran with bloodc They had chanted it in ancient India, and
now it was heard again in the New World and the New
Republic of Peace and Good Will.
Rebellion! The girl flinched at the word which the
good gentleman had uttered in his prayers. Was she a
traitor to that flag for which her people had fought in
three wars? Rebellion! She burned to blot it forever
from the book, Oh, the bitterness of that day, which was
a prophecy of the bitterness to come.
Rain was dropping as Mr. Brinsmade escorted her up
her own steps. He held her hand a little at parting, and
bade her be of good cheer. Perhaps he guessed something
of the trial she was to go through that night alone with.
her aunt, Clarence's mother, Mr. Brinsmade did not go
directly home. He went first to the little house next door
to his, Mrs. Brice and Judge Whipple were in the parlor,
What passed between them there has not been told, but
presently the Judge and Mr, Brinsmade came out together
asd stood & long time in the yard, conversing, heedless til
CHAPTER XXI
THE 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. Posthelwaite'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 they 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, preached 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 j
made such havoc that afternoon ? Those barbarians of the
foreign city 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 ! 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 their hearts.
_. 310
THE STAMPEDE 311
*' De Gen'ral done gib out er procl'mation, Miss Jinny,'5
he cried. " De Gen'ral done say in dat procl'mation dat
he ain't got no control ober de Dutch soldiers."
Mrs. Colfax fainted.
" Oh Miss Jinny, ain't you gwineter Glencoe ? Ain't you
gwineter flee away? Every fambly on dis here street's
gwine away — is packin' up fo' de country. Doan't you
hear 'em, Miss Jinny ? What'll your pa say to Ned ef he
ain't make you clear out ! Doan't you hear de carridges
a-rattlin' on0 to de country ? "
Virginia rose in agitation, yet trying to be calm, and
to remember that the safety of the household depended
upon her alone. That was her thought, — bred into her
by generations, — the safety of the household, of the hum-
blest slave whose happiness and welfare depended upon
her father's bounty. How she longed in that instant for
her father or Captain Lige, for some man's strength, to
depend upon. Would there be wisdom in flight ?
" Do you want to go, Ned ? " she asked. She has seen
her aunt swoon before, and her maid Susan knows well
what to do. "Do you want to go, Ned?"
"Laws Mussy, no, Miss Jinny. One nigger laik me
doan't make no difference. My Marsa he say : ' Whaffor
you leave ma house to be ramsacked by de Dutch ? '
What I gwineter answer ? Oh Miss Jinny, you an' Miss
Lill an' Mammy Easter an' Susan's gwine with Jackson,
an' de othah niggahs can walk. Ephum an' me'll jes' put
up de shutters an' load de Colonel's gun."
By this time the room was filled with excited negroes,
some crying, and some laughing hysterically. Uncle Ben
had come in from the kitchen ; Jackson was there, and the
women were a wailing bunch in the corner by the side-
board. Old Ephum, impassive, and Ned stood together.
Virginia's eye rested upon them, and the light of love and
affection was in it. She went to the window. Yes, car-
riages were indeed rattling outside, though a sharp shower
was falling. Across the street Alphonse, M. Renault's
butler, was depositing bags and bundles on the steps.
M. Renault himself bustled out into the rain, gesticulating
312 THE CRISIS
excitedly. Spying her at the window, he put his hands to
his mouth, cried out something, and ran in again. Vir-
ginia flung open the sash and listened for the dreaded
sound of drums. Then she crossed quickly over to where
her aunt was lying on the lounge.
" O Jinny," murmured that lady, who had revived, .
" can't you do something ? Haven't you done anything ?
They will be here any moment to burn us, to murder us
— to — oh, my poor boy ! Why isn't he here to protect
his mother ! Why was Comyn so senseless, so thoughtless,
as to leave us at such a time ! "
" I don't think there is any need to be frightened," said
Virginia, with a calmness that made her aunt tremble with
anger. " It is probably only a rumor. Ned, run to Mr,
Brinsmade's and ask him about it."
However loath to go, Ned departed at once. All honor
to those old-time negroes who are now memories, whose
devotion to their masters was next to their love of God.
A great fear was in Ned's heart, but he went. And he
believed devoutly that he would never see his young mis-
tress any more.
And while Ned is running to Mr. Brinsmade's, Mrs. Col-
fax is summoning that courage which comes to persons of
her character at such times. She gathers her jewels into a
bag, and her fine dresses into her trunk, with trembling
hands, although she is well enough now. The picture of
Clarence in the diamond frame she puts inside the waist
of her gown. No, she will not go to Bellegarde. That is |
too near the city. With frantic haste she closes the trunk,
which Ephum and Jackson carry downstairs and place be-
tween the seats of the carriage. Ned had had the horses in it |
since church time. It is not safe outside. But where to go ?
To Glencoe ? It is three in the afternoon, and Jackson
explains that, with the load, they would not reach there
until midnight, if at all. To Kirkwood or Webster ? Yes ;
many of the first families live there, and would take them
in for the night. Equipages of all sorts are passing, —
private carriages and public, and corner-stand hacks. The
black drivers are cracking whips over galloping horseSo
THE STAMPEDE 313
Pedestrians are hurrying by with bundles ^nder their arms,
some running east, and some west, and some stopping to
discuss excitedly the chances of each direction. From the
river comes the hoarse whistle of the boats breaking the
Sabbath stillness there. It is a panic to be remembered.
Virginia leaned against the iron railing of the steps,
watching the scene, and waiting for Ned to return from
Mr. Brinsmade's. Her face was troubled, as well it might
be. The most alarming reports were cried up to her from
the street, and she looked every moment for the black
smoke of destruction to appear to the southward. Around
her ^ere gathered the Carvel servants, most of them cry-
ing, and imploring her not to leave them. And when
Mrs. Colfax's trunk was brought down and placed in the
carriage where three of them might have ridden to safety,
a groan of despair and entreaty rose from the faithful
group that went to her heart.
" Miss Jinny, you ain't gwineter leave yo' ol' mammy ? "
" Hush, Mammy," she said. " No, you shall all go, if
I have to stay myself. Ephum, go to the livery stable
and get another carriage."
She went up into her own deserted room to gather the
few things she would take with her — the little jewellery
case with the necklace of pearls which her great-grand-
mother had worn at her wedding. Rosetta and Mammy
Easter were of no use, and she had sent them downstairs
again. With a nutter she opened her wardrobe door,
to take one last look at the gowns there. You will pardon
her. They were part of happier days gone by. She fell
down on her knees and opened the great drawer at the
bottom, and there on the top lay the dainty gown which,'
had belonged to Dorothy Manners. A tear fell upon one
of the flowers of the stays. Irresistibly pressed into her
mind the memory of Anne's fancy dress ball, — of the
episode by the gate, upon which she had thought so often
with burning face.
The voices below grow louder, but she does not hear.
She is folding the gown hurriedly into a little package.
It was her great-grandmother'a ; her chief heirloom aftei
&4 THE CKISIS
the pearls, Si1^ and satin from Paris are left behind
With one glance at the bed in which she had slept since
childhood, and at the picture over it which had been her
mother's, she hurries downstairs. And Dorothy Manners's
gown is under her arm. On the landing she stops to
brush her eyes with her handkerchief. If only her father
were here !
Ah, here is Ned back again. Has Mr. Brinsmade come?
What did he say? Ned simply 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 signs of excitement, reddened too as he
came forward and took off 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 man in the hope that I might persuade you to stay
where you are.'*
" Then the Germans are not moving on the city ? " she
said.
In spite of himself, Stephen smiled. It was that smile
that angered her, that made her rebel against the advice
he had to offer ; 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 supe^
THE STAMPEDE 31d
seded Captain Lyon in command in St. Louis. Some
citizens of prominence begged the General to send the
troops away, to avoid further ill-feeling and perhaps — ■
bloodshed." (They both winced at the word.) " Colonel
Blair represented to the General that the troops could not
be sent away, as they had been enlisted to serve only in
St. Louis ? whereupon the General in his proclamation
states that he has no control over these Home Guards.
That sentence has been twisted by some rascal into a con-
fession that the Home Guards are not to be controlled. I
can assure you, Miss Carvel," added Stephen, speaking
with a force which made her start and thrill, " I can assure
you from a personal knowledge of the German troops that
they are not a riotous lot, and that they are under perfect
control. If they were not, there are enough regulars in
the city to repress them."
He paused. And she was silent, forgetful of the hub-
bub around her. It was then that her aunt called out to
her, with distressing shrillness, from the carriage : — -
" Jinny, Jinny, how can you stand there talking to young
men when our lives are in danger ? "
She glanced hurriedly at Stephen, who said gently : — -
"I do not wish to delay you, Miss Carvel, if you are
bent upon going."
She wavered. His tone was not resentful, simply quiet,
Ephum turned the corner of the street, the perspiration
running on his black face.
" Miss Jinny, dey ain't no carridges to be had in this town,
No'm, not for fifty dollars."
This was the occasion for another groan from the negroes,
and they began once more to beseech her not to leave them.
In the midst of their cries she heard her aunt calling from
the carriage, where, beside the trunk, there was just room
for her to squeeze in.
"Jinny," cried that lady, frantically, "are you to go or
stay ? The Hessians will be here at any moment. Oh, I
cannot stay here to be murdered ! "
Unconsciously the girl glanced again at Stephen. Ha
had not gone, but was still standing in the rain on the step§^
316 THE CKISIS
the one figure of strength 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.
Unluckily at that moment came down the street a group
which had been ludicrous on any other day, and was, in
truth, ludicrous to Stephen then. At the head of it was a
little gentleman with red mutton-chop whiskers, hatless, in
spite of the rain beginning to fall. His face was the very
caricature of terror. His clothes, usually neat, were awry,
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 years passed
before she laughed over it. Behind Mr. Cluyme (for it
was he) trotted his family. Mrs. Cluyme, in a pink wrapper,
carried an armful of the family silver; then came Belie with
certain articles of feminine apparel which need not be
enumerated, and the three small Cluymes of various ages
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.
Clutching at his sleeve, she demanded where he was going,
The bronze clock had a narrow escape.
" To the river," he gasped. " To the river, madam ! ?*
His wife coming after him had a narrower escape still,
Mrs. Colfax retained a handful of lace from the wrapper,
the owner of which emitted a shriek of fright.
" Virginia, I am going to the river," said Mrs. Colfaxc
-' 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 t ?9
Ned swung on his seat. "No, indeedy, Miss Lilly, I
ain't a-gwine 'thout young Miss. The Dutch kin cotch
me an' hang me, but I ain't a-gwine 'thout Miss Jinny."
Mrs. Colfax drew her shawl about her shoulders with
dignity.
" Very well, Virginia,'9 she said. " 111 as I am, I shall
walk, Bear witness that I have spent a precious kou?
THE STAMPEDE 3i?
laying to save you. If I live to see your father again, E
shall tell him that you preferred to stay here and carry on
disgracefully with a Yankee, that you let your own aunt
risk her life alone in the rain. Come, Susan ! "
Virginia was very pale. She did not run down the
steps, but she caught her aunt by the arm ere that lady
had taken six paces. The girl's face frightened Mrs. Colfax
into submission, and she let herself be led back into the car-
riage beside the trunk. Those words of Mrs. Colfax's stung
Stephen to righteous anger and resentment — for Virginia.
As to himself, he had looked for insult. He turned to go
that he might not look upon her confusion ; and hanging
on the resolution, swung on his heel again, his eyes blaz-
ing. He saw in hers the deep blue light of the skies after
an evening's storm. She was calm, and save for a little
quiver of the voice, mistress of herself as she spoke to the
group of cowering servants.
"Mammy," she said, "get up on the box with Nedo
And, Ned, walk the horses to the levee, so that the rest
may follow. Ephum, you stay here with the house, and I
will send Ned back to keep you company."
With these words, clasping tightly the precious little
bundle under her arm, she stepped into the carriage.
Heedless of the risk he ran, sheer admiration sent Stephen
to the carriage door.
M If I can be of any service, Miss Carvel," he said, " I
shall be happy."
She glanced at him wildly.
" No," she cried, " no. Drive on, Ned ! n
And as the horses slipped and started she slammed the
door in his face.
Down on the levee wheels rattled over the white stones
washed clean by the driving rain. The drops pelted the
chocolate water into froth, and a blue veil hid the distant
bluffs beyond the Illinois bottom-lands. Down on the
levee rich and poor battled for places on the landing-stages*
and would have thrown themselves into the flood had there
been no boats to save them from the dreaded Dutch,
Attila and his Huns were not more feared. Oh, the mystery
318 THE CRISIS
of that foreign city ! What might not its Barbarians da
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! 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 thinking
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-
passengers ! Laying about him with his whip, and shout-
ing at the top of his voice to make himself heard, he sent
the Colonel's Kentucky bays through the crowd down to
the Barbara's landing stage, the people scampering to the
right 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 ! 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
was instructed to drive the rest with all haste tf
THE STAMPEDE 319
Bellegarde. Captain Vance gave Mrs. Colfax his arm,
and Virginia his eyes. He escorted the ladies to quarters
in the texas, and presently was heard swearing prodig-
iously as the boat was cast off. It was said of him that
he could turn an oath better than any man on the river,
which was no mean reputation.
Mrs. Colfax was assisted to bed by Susan. Virginia
stood by the little window of the cabin, and as the Barbara
paddled and floated down the river she looked anxiously
for signals of a conflagration, Nay* in that hour she
wished that the city might burn. So it is that the best of
us may at times desire misery to thousands that our own
malice may be fed. Virginia longed to see the yellow
flame creep along the wet, gray clouds. Passionate tears
came to her eyes at the thought of the humiliation she
had suffered, — and before him, of all men. Could she
ever live with her aunt after what she had said? " Carry-
ing on with that Yankee ! " The horrible injustice of it '
Her anger, too, was still against Stephen. Once more
he had been sent by circumstances to mock her and her
peoplec If the city would only burn, that his cocksure
judgment might for once be mistaken, his calmness for
once broken !
The rain ceased, the clouds parted, and the sun turned
the muddy river to gokL The bluffs shone May-green in
the western flood of light, and a haze hung over the bot-
tom-lands. Not a sound disturbed the quiet of the city
receding to the northward, and the rain had washed the
pall of smoke from over it. On the boat excited voices
died down to natural tones ; men smoked on the guards
and promenaded on the hurricane deck, as if this were
some pleasant excursion. Women waved to the other
boats flocking after. Laughter was heard5 and joking,
Mrs. Colfax stirred in her berth and began to talk.
h Virginia, where are we going ? "
Virginia did not move.
fS Jinny ! "
She turned* In that hour she remembered that great
good-natured man§ her mothers brother^ and for his sate
320 THE CRISIS
Colonel Carvel had put up with much from his wife's sister
in-law. She could pass over, but never forgive what hei
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-
ened convulsively, thrust his quid into his cheek, and
removed his hat with more zeal than the grudging defer
ence he usually accorded to the sex, Clearly Eliphalet
would not have chosen the situation,
44 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 get
through with it.*'
" I think that there are enough men left in it to save
it," said Virginia.
Apparently Mr. Hopper found no suitable answer to
this, for he made none. He continued to glance at her
uneasily. There was an impudent tribute in his look
which she resented strongly,
M Where is the Captain ? " she demanded.
44 He's down below — ma'am,'* he replied^ " Caji —
can I do anything ? M
44 Yes," she said, with abrupt maliciousness, u 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 .
Guess there ain't many of 'em inquired where she waa
THE STAMPEDE 321
goin99 or cared much," he added, with a ghastly effort
to be genial.
4t Do you care ? ?* she demanded, curiously.
Eliphalet grinned.
" Not a great deal," he said. Then he felt called upon
to defend himself. "I didn't see any use in gettin'
murdered, when I couldut do anything."
She left him. He stared after her up the com-
panionway, bit off a generous piece of tobacco, and
ruminated. If to be a genius is to possess an infinite
stock of patience, Mr. Hopper was a genius. There was
patience in his smile. But it was not a pleasant smile
to look upon.
Virginia did not see it. She had told her aunt the
news, and stood in the breeze on the hurricane deck
looking southward, with her hand shading her eyes. The
Barbara Lane happened to be a boat with a record, and
her name was often in the papers. She had already
caught up with and distanced others which had had lialf
an hour's start of her, and was near the head of the
procession.
Virginia presently became aware that people were
gathering around her in knots, gazing at a boat coming
toward them. Others had been met which, on learning
the dread news, turned back. But this one kept her bow
steadily up the current, although she had passed within a
biscuit-toss of the leader of the line of refugees. It was
then that Captain Vance's hairy head appeared above the
deck.
" Dang me ! " he said, " if here ain't pig-headed Brent
steaming the Jewanita straight to destruction.''
" Oh, are you sure it's Captain Brent ? " cried Virginia
The Captain looked around in surprise.
"If that there was Shreve's old Enterprise come to life
again, I'd lay cotton to sawdust that Brent had her.
Danged if he wouldn't take her right into the jaws of
the Dutch."
The Captain's words spread, and caused considerable
excitement. On board tk« Barbara Lane were man^
B22 THE CEISIS
gentlemen who had begun to be shamefaced over thek
panic, and these went in a body to the Captain and asked
Mm to communicate with the Juanita. Whereupon &
certain number of whistles were sounded, and the Bar-
bara's bows headed for the other side of the channeL
As the Juanita drew near. Virginia saw the square
vifigure and clean, smooth-shaven face of Captain Lige
standing in front of his wheel-houseo Peace crept back
into her soul, and she tingled with joy as the bells
clanged and the bucket-planks churned, and the great
New Orleans packet crept slowly to the Barbara's side.
"You ain't goin' in, Brent?" shouted the Barbara's
captain.
" Why not ? n responded Mr, Brent. At the sound of
Lis voice Virginia could have wept.
i( The Dutch are sacking the city,'* said Vance= M Didn t
they tell you ? "
M The Dutch — hell ? " said Mr. Brent, calmly0 " Who's
afraid of the Dutch ? "
A general titter went along the guards, and Virginia
blushed,, Why could not the Captain see her ?
M I'm on my reg'lar trip, of course," said Vance. Out
there on the sunlit river the 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*
K If you're really gonr up,'5 said Captain Vance, " I
reckon there's a few here would like to be massacred, ii
you'll take em."
" Certainly*1' answered Mr. Brent ; M I'm bound for the
barbecue" And he gave a commando
While the two great boats were manoeuvring-, and
slashing with one wheel and the other, the gongs sound-
ing, Virginia ran into the cabim
66 Oh, Aunt Lillian," she exclaimed, ^here is Captain
Lige and the Juanita, and he is going to take us back
with him. He says there is no danger."
Et is unnecessary here to repeat the moral persuasion
THE STAMPEDE 323
ivhich Virginia used to get her aunt up and dressed.
That lady, when she had heard the whistle and the gongs,
had let her imagination loosec Turning her face to the
wall, she was in the act of repeating her prayers as her
niece entered^
A big stevedore carried her down two decks to where
the gang-plank was thrown across* Captain Lige himself
was at the other end0 His face lighted, Pushing the
people aside, he rushed across, snatched the lady from the
negro's arms, crying : —
'•Jinny ! Jinny Carvel ! Well, if this ain't forfanatet"
The stevedore's services were required for Mammy
Easter* And behind the burly shield thus formed, a
gtoutish gentleman slipped over, all unnoticed, with %
sarpet-bag in his hando It bore the initials E. H
The plank was drawn in. The great wheels began to
turn and hiss, the Barbara's passengers waved good-by
to the foolhardy lunatics who had elected to go back into
the jaws of destruction Mrs. Colfax was put into a cabin j
and Virginia, in a glow, climbed with Captain Lige to the
kurricane deck. There they stood for a while in silence,
watching the broad stern of the Barbara growing smaller,
"Just to think," Miss Carvel remarked, with a little
Hysterical sigh, "just to think that some of those people
brought bronze clocks instead of tooth-brushes*"'
a And what did you bring, my girl ? ?? asked the Cap=
tain; glancing at the parcel she held so tightly under h»?
armc
He never knew why she blushed m furiously.-.
CHAPTER XXII
T&M STRAINING OF ANOTHER FRIENDSHIP
Captain Lige asked but two questions i 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-drum from a lady's
watch, as he himself said. In his solicitude for Virginia^
he saw that she was in no state of mind to talk of ths
occurrences of the last few days, So he helped her tc
climb the little stair that winds to the top of the texas3
—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 hex
wonderfully, " Captain Lige,5* H.ie said, almost tearfully,
as she took his arm, " how I thank heaven that you came
up the river this afternoon ! "
" Jinny,*' said the Captain, M did you ever know why
cabins are called staterooms?"
" 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 state am I
in, Cap ? * And from this river has the name spread all
over the world — stateroom. That's mighty interesting™
said Captain Lige,
" Yes," said Virginia ; M why didn't you tell me long
ago?"
324
IHE STEAINISTG OF AJTOTHE3 FEIENDSHIP £fe
"And I'll bet you can't say5" the Captain continued
2 why this house we're standing on is called the texas '"
"Because it is annexed to the states," she replied, quiets
%g a flash.
"Well, you're bright" said he, -Old Tufts got that
motion, when Texas came in. Like to see Bill Jenks ? "
u Of course,^ said Virginia.
Bill Jenks was Captain Brent s senior pilot. His skin
hung on his face in folds, like that of a rhinoceros, It
was very much the same color. His grizzled hair was all
lengths, like a worn-out mop ; his hand reminded one of
an eagle's claw, and his teeth were a pine yellow. He
greeted only such people as he deemed worthy of notice,
but he had held Virginia in his arms 3
I£ William," said the young lady^ roguishly, H how is the
sye, location, and memory ?w
William abandoned himself to a laugh. When this
happened it was put in the Juanita's log,
" So the Cap'n be still harpin* on that? n he said, " Miss*
Jinny* he's just plumb crazy on a pilot's qualificationsc"
fA He says that you are the !r°st pilot on the river, but 1
don't believe it," said Virginia.,
William cackled again, He made a place for her on the
leather-padded seat at the back of the pilot house, where
for a long time she sat staring at the flag trembling on the
jackstaff between the great sombre pipes. The sun fell
down, but his light lingered in the air above as the big
boat forged abreast the foreign city of South St. Louis,
There was the arsenal, grim despite its dress of green,
where Clarence was confined alone.
Captain Lige came in from his duties below. M Well,
/inny, we'll soon be at home," he said. u We've made a
^uick trip against the rains."
4- And — and do you thick the city is safe ? w
" Safe ! " he cried. " As safe as London ! " He checked
himself " Jinny, would you like to blow the whistle ? **
u I should just love to," said Virginia. And following
Mr, Jenks5s directions she put her toe on the tread, and
shrank back when the monster resrjon^Qd with a snort
326 THE CRISIS
and a roar. River men along the levee heard that signal
and laughed. The joke was certainly not on sturdy Elijah
Brent*
An hour later, Virginia and her aunt and the Captain^
followed by Mammy Easter and Rosetta and Susan, were
/walking through the streets of the stillest city in the
Union. All that they met was a provost's guard, for St,
Louis was under Martial Law, Once in a while they
saw the light of some contemptuous citizen of the resi -
dence district who had stayed to laugh. Out in the sub-
urbs, at the country houses of the first families, people of
distinction slept five and six in a room -— many with only
a quilt between body and matting. Little wonder that
thest* dreamed of Hessians and destruction. In town they
slept with their doors open, those who remained and had
faith. Martial 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 politicians bland or beetle
browed. No police force ever gave the sense of security
inspired by a provost's guarfL
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 reliefo But the Captain smoked in agony until the
clouds of two days slipped away from under the stars, for
he was trying to decide a Question* Then he went up to
ja 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 Mainnry Easter to cook and
Rosetta to wait on them, the Colonel bursts in. He is
dusty and travel -stained from his night on the train, but
his gray eyes light with affection 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 yon.
But where is Jackson ? 'v
THE STRAINING OF ANOTHER FRIENDSHIP 32?
And so the whole miserable tale has to be told oyer again,
between laughter and tears on Virginia's part, and laugk=
ter and strong language on Colonel Carvel's. What a
blessing that Lige met them, else the Colonel might now
be starting for the Cumberland River in search of his
daughter. The Captain does not take much part in the
conversation, and he refuses the cigar which is offered him,
Mr, Carvel draws back in surprise.
" Lige," he says, " this is the first time to my knowledge,"
" I smoked too many last night," says the Captains
The Colonel sat down, with his feet against the mantel-
too full of affairs to take much notice of Mr, Brent's
apathy.
" The Yanks have taken the first trick — that's sure,"
he said. " But I think we'll laugh last, Jinny. Jefferson
City isn't precisely quiet* The state has got more militia^
or will have more militia in a day or two. We won't
miss the thousand they stole in Camp Jackson. They're
organizing up there. And I've got a few commissions
right here," and he tapped his pockets
" Pa," said Virginia, " did you volunteer ? "
The Colonel laughed.
" The Governor wouldn't have me," he answered. " He
said I was more good here in St. Louis. I'll go later
What's this I hear about Clarence ? "
Virginia related the occurrences of Saturday. The
Colonel listened with many exclamations, slapping his
knee from time to time as she proceeded.
" By gum ! " he cried, when she had finished, " the boy
has it in him, after all ! They can't hold him a day —can
they, Lige ? " (No answer from the Captain, who is eat=
ing his breakfast in silence.) " All that we have to do is
to go for Worington and get a habeas corpus from the
United States District Court, Come on, Lige."
The Captain got up excitedly, his face purple.
m I reckon you'll have to excuse me, Colonel," he said,
** There's a cargo on my boat which has got to come off/"
And without more ado he left the room. In consterna
fcion they heard the front door close behind him. And yet
328 THE CRISIS
neither father nor daughter dared in that hour add to the
trial of the other by speaking out the dread that was in
their hearts. The Colonel smoked for a while, not a word
escaping him, and then he patted Virginia's cheek,
"I reckon I'll run over and see Russell, Jinny," he
said, striving to be cheerful. " We must get the boy out.
I'll see a lawyer." He stopped abruptly in the hall and
! pressed his hand to his forehead. " My God," he whis-
kered to himself, " if I could only go to Silas ! "
The good Colonel got Mr. Russell, and they went to
Mr. Worington, Mrs. Colfax's lawyer, of whose politics
it is not necessary to speak. There was plenty of excite-
ment around the Government building where his Honor
issued the writ. There lacked not gentlemen of influence
who went with Mr. Russell and Colonel Carvel and the
lawyer and the Commissioner to the Arsenal. They were
admitted to the presence of the indomitable Lyon, who
informed them that Captain Colfax was a prisoner of war,
and, since the arsenal was Government property, not in
the state. The Commissioner thereupon attested the affi-
davit to Colonel Carvel, and thus the application for the
writ was made legal.
These things the Colonel reported to Virginia, and to
Mrs. Colfax, who received them with red eyes and a thou-
sand queries as to whether that Yankee ruffian would pay
any attention to the Sovereign law which he pretended to
uphold ; whether the Marshal would not be cast over the
Arsenal wall by the slack of his raiment when he went to
serve the writ. This was not the language, but the pur-
port, of the lady's questions. Colonel Carvel had made
but a light breakfast % he had had no dinner, and little
rest on the train. But he answered his sister-in-law with
unfailing courtesy. He was too honest to express a hope
which he did not feel. He had returned that evening to
a dreary household. During the day the servants had
straggled in from Bellegarde, and Virginia had had pre-
pared those dishes which her father loved. Mrs. Colfax
chose to keep her room, for which the two were silently
thankfuL Jackson announced supper. The Colonel was
THE STRAINING OF ANOTHER FRIENDSHIP SM
humming a tune as he went down the stairs, but Virginia
was not deceived. He would not see the yearning in he?
eyes as he took his chair ; he would not glance at Captain
Lige's empty seat. It was because he did not dare. She
caught her breath when she saw that the food on his plate
lay untouched.
44 Pa, are you ill ? " she faltered.
He pushed his chair away, such suffering in his look as
she had never seen.
" Jinny," he said, " I reckon Lige is for the Yankees/*
" I have known it all along," she said, but faintly,
" Did he tell you ? " her father demanded.
"No."
** My God," cried the Colonel, in agony, " to think tha^
he kept it from me ! to think that Lige kept it from me ! -'
"It is because he loves you, Pa," answered the girl
gently, "it is because he loves us."
He said nothing to that. Virginia got up, and wenv
softly around the table. She leaned over his shoulder
"Pa!"
" Yes," he said, his voice lifeless.
But her courage was not to be lightly shaken,
" Pa, will you forbid him to come here — now ? n
A long while she waited for his answer, while the big
clock ticked out the slow seconds in the hall, and her
heart beat wildly.
" No," said the Colonel. " As long as I have a ?oof?
Lige may come under it."
He rose abruptly and seized his hat. She did not ask'
Mm where he was going, but ordered Jackson to keep the
supper warm, and went into the drawing-room. The
lights were out, then, but the great piano that was her
mother's lay open. Her ringers fell upon the keys. That
wondrous hymn which Judge Whipple loved, which for
years has been the comfort of those in distress, floated
softly with the night air out of the open window. It was
6 Lead, Kindly Light." Colonel Carvel heard it, and
paused.
Shall we follow him ?
830 THE CEISIS
He did not stop again until lie reached the narrow street
at the top 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 hilL Then he wheeled
about, walked swiftly down the levee, and on to the land-
ing-stage beside which the big Juanita loomed in the night,
On her bows was set, fantastically, a yellow street-car*
The Colonel stopped mechanically. Its unexpected
appearance there had served to break the current of his
meditations. He stood staring at it, while the roustabouts
passed and repassed, noisily carrying great logs of wood
on shoulders padded by their woollen caps.
" That'll be the first street-car 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 headc s' You were never too
busy to come for supper, Lige, I reckon the cargo isn't
alL"
Captaii . Life shot at him a swift lookD He gulped,
M Come ji "'. nert on the levee," said the Colonel, sternly o
They walked out together, and for some distance in
silenceo
" Lige," said the elder gentleman, striking his stick on
the stones, 4' if there ever was a straight goer, that's you*
You've always dealt squarely with me, and now I'm going
■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 was
no anger in Mr. Carvel's voice — only reproach.
M And you wouldn't tell me, Lige ? You kept it horn
me/'
"My God> Colonel," exclaimed the other$ passionately,
THE STRAINING OF ANOTHER FRIENDSHIP 331
" how could I ? I owe what I have to your charity,
But for you and — and Jinny I should have gone to the
deviL If you and she are taken away, what have I left
in life ? I was a coward, sir, not to tell you. You must
have guessed it. And yet, — God help me, — I can't
stand by and see the nation go to pieces. Your nation as
well as mine, Colonel. Your fathers fought that we Ameri-
cans might inherit the earth — " He stopped abruptly.
Then he continued haltingly, " Colonel, I know you're a
man of strong feelings and convictions. All I ask is that
you and Jinny will think of me as & friend — "
He choked, and turned away, not heeding the direction
of his feet. The Colonel, his stick raised, stood looking
after him. He was folded in the near darkness before he
called his name,
"Lige!"
"Yes, Colonel."
He came back, wondering, across the rough stones until
he stood beside the tall figure. Below them, the lights
glided along the dark water.
" Lige, didn't I raise you ? Haven't I taught you that
my house was your home? Come back, Lige. But =
but never speak to me again of this night ! Jinny is
waiting for us."
Not a word passed between them as they went up the
quiet street. At the sound of their feet in the entry the
door was flung open, and Virginia, with her hands out^
stretched, stood under the hall light.
u Oh, Pa, I knew you would bring him back," she said.
CHAPTER XXIII
OP CLARENCE
Captain Clarence Colfax, late of the State Dragoons,
t/woke on Sunday morning the chief of the many topics of
the conversation of a big city. His conduct drew forth
enthusiastic praise from the gentlemen and ladies who
had thronged Beauregard and Davis avenues, and honest
admiration from the party which had broken up the camp,
The boy had behaved well. There were many doting
parents, like Mr. Catherwood, whose boys had accepted
the parole, whose praise was a trifle lukewarm, to be sure3
But popular opinion, when once aroused, will draw a grunt
from the most grudging.
We are not permitted, alas, to go behind these stern
walls and discover how Captain Colfax passed that event-
ful Sunday of the Exodus. We know that, in his loneli-
ness, lie hoped for a visit from his cousin, and took to
pacing his room in the afternoon, when a smarting sense
of injustice crept upon him. Clarence was young. And
how was he to guess, as he looked out in astonishment
upon the frightened flock of white boats swimming south-
ward, that his mother and his sweetheart were there ?
On Monday, while the Colonel and many prominent
citizens were busying themselves about procuring the legal
writ which was at once to release Mr. Colfax, and so cleanse
the whole body of Camp Jackson's defenders from any
veiled intentions toward the Government, many well-
known carriages drew up before the Carvel House in Locust
Street to congratulate the widow and the Colonel upon
the possession of such a son and nephew. There were
some who slyly congratulated Virginia, whose martyrdom
It was to sit up with people all the day long. For Mrs=
Colfax kept her room, and admitted only a few of hei
332
OF CLARENCE 333
bosom friends to cry with her. When the last of the
callers was gone, Virginia was admitted to her aunt's
presence.
" Aunt Lillian, to-morrow morning Pa and I are going
to the Arsenal with a basket for Max. Pa seems to think
there is a chance that he may come back with us. You
will go, of course."
The lady smiled wearily at the proposal, and raised hei
hands in protest, the lace on the sleeves of her dressing-
gown falling away from her white arms.
" Go, my dear ? " she exclaimed, " when I can't walk to
my bureau after that terrible Sunday. You are crazy,
Jinny, No," she added, with conviction, " I never again
expect to see him alive. Comyn says they may release
Mm, does he ? Is he turning Yankee, too ? "
The girl went away, not in anger or impatience, but in
sadness. Brought up to reverence her elders, she had
ignored the shallowness of her aunt's character in happier
days. But now Mrs. Colfax's conduct carried a proph^
ecy with it. Virginia sat down on the landing to ponder
on the years to come, - — on the pain they were likely to
bring with them from this source — Clarence gone to the
war i her father gone (for she felt that he would go in
the end), Virginia foresaw the lonely days of trial in
company with this vain woman whom accident made her
cousin's mother. Ay, and more, fate had made her the
mother of the man she was to marry. The girl could
scarcely bear the thought — through the hurry and swing
of the events of two days she had kept it from her mind,
But now — - Clarence was to be released* To-morrow he
hvould be coming home to her joyfully for his reward, and
she did not love him. She was bound to face that again
and again. She had cheated herself again and again with
other feelings. She had set up intense love of country in
the shrine where it did not belong, and it had answered —
for a while0 She saw Clarence in a hero's light — untD
a fatal intimate knowledge made her shudder and draw
back. And yet her resolution should not be water-
She would carry it through^
B34 THE CRISIS
Captain Lige's cheery voice roused her from below «
and her father's laugh. And as she went down to them
3he thanked God that this friend had been spared to him.
Never had the Captain's river yarns bean better told
than at the table that evening. Virginia did not see him
glance at the Colonel when at last he had brought a smile
to her facee
u I'm going to leave Jinny with yous Lige," said Mro
Carvel, presently* " Worington has some notion that the
Marshal may go to the Arsenal to-night with the writ. I
mustn't neglect the boy."
Virginia stood in front of him.
" Won't you let me go ? " she pleaded.
The Colonel was taken abacko He stood looking down
at her, stroking his goatee, and marvelling at the ways of
womaue
*< The horses have been out all day* Jinny/' he saidj " I
am going in the cars."
" I can go in the cars^ too."
The Colonel looked at Captain Lige.
(i There is only a chance that we shall see Clarence/' h.®
went on, uneasily.
" It is better than sitting still," cried Virginia^ as she
ran away to get the bonnet with the red strings.
" Lige," said the Colonel, as the two stood awaiting her
in the hall* if I can't make her outc Can you ? "
The Captain did not answer.
It was a long journey, in a bumping car with bad
springs that rattled unceasingly, past the string of pro-
vost guards. The Colonel sat in the corner, with his head
bent down over his stick. At length, cramped and weary P
they got out, and made their way along the Arsenal wall,
past the sentries to the entrance. The sergeant brought
Ms rifle to a **port."
a Commandant's orders, sir, No one admitted/' he said,
" Is Captain Colfax here ? " asked Mr. Carvel. _
^ Captain Colfax was taken to Illinois in a skifL qTj;&?r
ts@r of an hour since,"
Ga>ptain Lige gave ¥©nt t© a long3 low whistlec
OF CLAKENCE SM
" A skiff ! " he exclaimed, " and the river this high I A
skiff r
Virginia clasped his arm in terror,
fS Is there danger ? "
Before he could answer came the noise of steps from
the direction of the river, and a number of people hurried
up excitedly. Colonel Carvel recognized Mr0 Worington,
the lawyer, and caught him by the sleeve,
" Anything happened ? " he demanded.
Worington glanced at the sentry, and pulled the Col-
onel past the entrance and into the street. Virginia and
Captain Lige followed,,
" They have started across with him in a light skiff— four
men and a captain. The young fool ! We had him rescued,"
" Rescued ! "
" YeSc There were bat five in the guard, And a lot
of us, who suspected what they were up to, were standing
around* When we saw 'em come down, we made a rush
and had the guard overpoweredc But Colfax called out
to stand back."
« Well, sir,"
" Cuss me if I understand him," said Mr, Worington,
" He told us to disperse, and that he proposed to remain
a prisoner and go where they sent him."
There was a silence. Then —
" Move on please, gentlemen," said the sentry, and they
started to walk toward the car line, the lawyer and the
Colonel together, Virginia put her hand through the
Captain's arm. In the darkness he laid his big one over it,
"Don't you be frightened, Jinny, at what I said, I
-reckon they'll fetch up in Illinois all right, if I know
Xyon. There, there," said Captain Lige, soothingly,
Virginia was crying softly. She had endured more in
the past few days than often falls to the lot of one-and
twenty. "There, there, Jinny." He felt like crying
himself. He thought of the many, many times he had
taken her on his knee and kissed her tears. He might
do that no more, now, There was the young Captain^ &
prisoner on the great black river9 who had a better right
B36 THE CKISIS
Elijah Brent wondered, as they waited in the silent street
for the lonely car, if Clarence loved her as well as he.
It was very late when they reached home, and Virginia
went silently up to her rooms Colonel Carvel stared
grimly after her, then glanced at his friend as he turned
down the lights. The eyes of the two met, as of 61% in
true understanding.
The sun was still slanting over the tops of the houses
the next morning when Virginia, a ghostly figure, crept
down the stairs and withdrew the lock and bolt on the
front doorc The street was still, save for the twittering
of birds and the distant rumble of a cart in its early
rounds. The chill air of the morning made her shiver as
she scanned the entry for the newspaper, Dismayed* she
turned to the clock in the hall. Its hands were at quar
ter past five*
She sat long behind the curtains in her father's little
library, the thoughts whirling in her brain as she watched
ths growing life of another day* What would it bring
forth? Once she stole softly back to the entry, self-
indulgent and ashamed, to rehearse again the bitter and
the sweet of that scene of the Sunday before. She sum-
moned up the image of the young man who had stood on
these steps in front of the frightened servants. She
seemed to feel again the calm power and earnestness of
his face, to hear again the clear-cut tones of his voice as
he advised her. Then she drew back, frightened, into
\he sombre library, conscience -stricken that she should
have yielded to this temptation then, when Clarence- —
She dared not follow the thought, but she saw the light
skiff at the mercy of the angry river and the dark night.
This had haunted her. If he were spared, she prayed for]
strength to consecrate herself to him, A book lay on the
table, and Virginia took refuge in it. And her eyes,
glancing over the pages, rested on this verse r -
w Thy voice is heard thro' rolling drums,.
That beat to battle where he stands ;
Thy face across his fancy comes,
And gives the battle to his hands/
OF CLARENCE 331
The papa: brought no news, nor mentioned the ruse
Bo which Captain Lyon had resorted to elude the writ by
transporting his prisoner to Illinois, Newspapers were
not as alert then as now. Colonel Carvel was off early
to the Arsenal in search of tidings, He would not hear
of Virginia's going with him. Captain Lige, with a
surer instinct, went to the river, What a morning of
suspense ! Twice Virginia was summoned to her aunt,
and twice she made excuse. It was the Captain whc
returned first, and she met him at the door..
*' Oh, what have you heard? " she cried,
^ He is alive,'* said the Captain, tremulously,, ?< alive and
well, and escaped South,"'
She took a step toward him, and swayed. The Captain
caught her* For a brief instant he held her in his arms-
and then he led her to the great armchair that was the
Colonel's.
44 Lige," she said, 44 are you sure that this is not — a
kindness ? "
"No, Jinny," he answered quickly, "but things were
mighty close. I was afraid last night. The river was
roarin*. They struck out straight across, but they drifted
and drifted like log- wood. And then she began to fill
and all five of 'em to baiL Then— -then she went down
The five soldiers came up on that bit of an island below
the Arsenal* They hunted all night, but they didn't find
Clarence. And they got taken off to the Arsenal this
morning."
44 And how do you know ? n she faltered,
44 1 knew that much this morning," he continued, 14ano
so did your pa, But the Andrew Jackson is just in from
Memphis, and the Captain tells me that he spoke the
Memphis packet off Cape Girardeau, and that Clarence
was aboard, She picked him up by a miracle, after h©
had just missed a round trip through her wheel-house,"
BOOK in
CHAPTER I
INTRODUCING A CAPITALIST
A cordon of blue regiments surrounded the city at first
from Carondelet to North St. Louis, like an open fan. The
crowds liked best to go to Compton Heights, where the
tents of the German citizen-soldiers were spread out like
so many slices of white cake on the green beside the city's
reservoir. Thence the eye stretched across the town,
catching the dome of the Court House and the spire of Stc
John's. Away to the west, on the line of the Pacific rail-
road that led halfway across the state, was another campo
Then another, and another, on the circle of the fan, until
the river was reached to the northward, far above the benda
Within was 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 Jefferson
City and Jefferson Davis, their purport being that the^
Governor was to work out his own salvation, for a while
at least. Young men of St. Louis, struck in a night
by the fever of militarism, arose and went to Glencoe,
Prying sergeants and commissioned officers, mostly of
hated German extraction, thundered at the door of Colonel
CarveFs house, and other houses, there — for Glencoe was
& border town. They searched the place more than
once from garret to cellar, muttered guttural oaths, and
guaelled of beer and sauerkrauts The haughty appear-
338 ^__
INTKODUCING A CAPITALIST 339
ance of Miss Carvel did not awe them — they were blind
to all manly sensations The Colonel's house, alas, was one
of many in Glencoe written down in red ink in a book at
headquarters as a place toward which the feet of the young
men strayed. Good evidence was handed in time and time
again that the young men had come and gone, and red
faced commanding officers cursed indignant subalterns,
and implied that Beauty had had a hand in it. Councils
of war were held over the advisability of seizing Mr,
Carvel's house at Glencoe, but proof was lacking until one
rainy night in June a captain and ten men spurred up the
drive and swung into a big circle around the house. The
Captain took off his cavalry gauntlet and knocked at the
door, more gently than usual. Miss Virginia was home,
so Jackson said. The Captain was given an audience more
formal than one with the queen of Prussia could have been
Miss Carvel was infinitely more haughty than her Majesty,
Was not the Captain hired to do a degrading service ?
Indeed, he thought so as he followed her about the house,
and he felt like the lowest of criminals as he opened a
closet door or looked under a bed. He was a beast of
the field, of the mire. How Virginia shrank from him
if he had occasion to pass her ! Her gown would have
been denied by his touch, And yet the Captain did not
smell of beer, nor of sauerkraut ; nor did he swear in any
language. He did his duty apologetically, but he did ito
He pulled a man (aged seventeen) out from under a great
hoop skirt in a little closet, and the man had a pistol that
refused its duty when snapped in the Captain's face.
This was little Spencer Catherwood, just home from a
military academy.
Spencer was taken through the rain by the chagrined
Captain to the headquarters, where he caused a little
embarrassment. No damning evidence was discovered on
his person, for the pistol had long since ceased to be a
firearm. And so after a stiff lecture from the Colonel he
was finally given back into the custody of his father.
Despite the pickets, the young men filtered through
daily, — or rather nightly. Presently some of them begasa
840 THE CEISIS
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 sent 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 Lyon3 who moved like a whirl-
INTRODUCING A CAPITALIST 343
wind, who loved the Union beyond his own life, was
thrust down again. A mutual agreement was entered
into between the Governor and the old Indian fighter in
command of the Western Department, to respect each
other. A trick for the Rebels. How Lyon chafed, and
paced the Arsenal walks while he might have saved the
state. Then two gentlemen went to Washington, an<?
the next thing that happened was Brigadier General
Lyon, Commander of the Department of the West.
Would General Lyon confer with the Governor of
Missouri ? Yes, the General would give the Governor a
safe-conduct into St. Louis, but his Excellency must come
to the General. His Excellency came, and the General
deigned to go with the Union leader to the Planters'
House. Conference, five hours ; result, a safe conduct
for the Governor back. And this is how General
Lyon ended the talk. His words, generously preserved
by a Confederate colonel who accompanied his Excel=
lency, deserve to be writ in gold on the National
Annals.
"Rather than concede to the state of Missouri the
right to demand that my Government shall not enlist
troops within her limits, or bring troops into the state
whenever it pleases; or move its troops at its own will
into, out of, or through, the state ; rather than concede
to the state of Missouri for one single instant the right
to dictate to my Government in any matter, however
unimportant, I would" (rising and pointing in turn to
every one in the room) " see you, and you, and you, and
you, and every man, woman, and child in this state, dead
and buried." Then, turning to the Governor, he continued,
"This means war. In an hour one of my officers will
call for you and conduct you out of my lines."
And thus, without another word, without an inclination
of the head, he turned upon his heel and strode out of the
room, rattling his spurs and clanking his sabre.
It did mean war. In less than two months that indom=
itable leader was lying dead beside Wilson's Creek, among
the oaks on Bloody Hill. What he would have been tc
B42 THE CKISIS
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 ! What prayers
rose to heaven, and curses sank to hell, when the news of
them came to the city by the river ! Flags were made
by loving fingers, and shirts and bandages. Trembling1
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 w The!
City of Alton has arrived with the following Union dead]
and wounded, and the following Confederate wounded!
(prisoners).'5 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 Benton0
Some came back with their color gone and their red
INTRODUCING A CAPITALIST 343
sheeks sallow and bearded and sunken. Others came
not back at all.
Stephen Brice, with a pain over his heart and a lump
in his throat, walked on the pavement beside his old com-
pany, but his look avoided their faces, He wrung Rich-
ter's hand on the landing-stage, Richter was now a captain.
The good German's eyes were filled as he said good-by.
" You will come, too, my friend, when the country needs
you," he said, " Now " (and he shrugged his shoulders),
" now have we many with no cares to go. I have not even
a father ■ — " And he turned to Judge Whipple, who was
standing by, holding out a bony hand.
** God bless you, Carl," said the Judge. And Carl could
scarce believe his ears. He got aboard the boat, her decks
already blue with troops, and as she backed out with her
whistle screaming, the last objects he saw were the gaunt
old man and the broad-shouldered young man side by side
on the edge of the landing.
Stephen's chest heaved, and as he walked back to the
office with the Judge, he could not trust himself to speak,
Back to the silent office where the shelves mocked them.
The Judge closed the ground-glass door behind him, and
Stephen sat until five o'clock over a booke No, it was
not Whittlesey, but Hardee's "Tactics." He shut it
with a slam, and went to Verandah Hall to drill recruits
on a dusty floor, — narrow-chested citizens in suspenders,
who knew not the first motion in right about face. For
Stephen was an adjut?~nt in the Home Guards — what
wa3 left of them.
One we know of regarded the going of the troops and
the coming of the wounded with an equanimity truly
philosophicaL When the regiments passed Carvel &
Company on their way riverward to embark, Mr. Hopper
did not often take the trouble to rise from his chair, nor
was he ever known to go to the door to bid them God=
speed, This was all very well, because they were Union
Jregimeats, But Mr. Hopper did not contribute a horse,
zior even a saddle-blanket, to the young men who went
aw&y secretly in the night, without fathers or mothers as
®A THE CRISIS
sisters to wave at them* Mr. Hopper had better ose fo«
Ms 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 eve*
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 Glcncoe, 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 dow n 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 to 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 knov*
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 met3 Mr. Hopper.' And the good
INTKODUCING A CAPITALIST 34S
gentleman looked out of the window<, He was thinking
of a day, before the Mexican War, when his young wife
had sat in the very chair filled by Mr. Hopper now,
" These notes cannot be met," he repeated, and his voice
was near to breaking.
The flies droning in the hot office made the only sound.
Outside the partition, among the bales, was silence.
" Colonel," said Mr. Hopper, with a remarkable ease, * I
caPlate these notes can be met."
The Colonel jumped as if he had heard a shot, and one
of the notes fell to tne floor. Eliphalet picked it up
tenderly, and held it.
" What do you mean, sir ? " Mr. Carvel cried. " There
isn't a bank in town that will lend me money. I — -I
haven't a friend — a friend I may ask who can spare it,
sir."
Mr. Hopper lifted up his hand. It was a fat hand,
Suavity was come upon it like a new glove and changed
the mane He was no longer cringing. Now he had
poise, such poise as we in these days are accustomed to
see in leather and mahogany offices. The Colonel glared
at him uncomfortably.
" I will take up those notes myself, sir."
" You ! " cried the Colonel, incredulously, " You f "
We must do Eliphalet justice. There was not a deal
of hypocrisy in his nature, and now he did not attempt
the part of Samaritan. He did not beam upon the
volonel and remind him of the day on which, homeless
and friendless, he had been frightened into his store by
a drove of mules. No. But his day, — the day toward
which he had striven unknown and unnoticed for so many
years — the day when he would laugh at the pride of those
who had ignored and insulted him, was dawning at last.
When we are thoughtless of our words, we do not reckon
with that spark in little bosoms that may burst into flame
and burn us. Not that Colonel Carvel had ever been
aught but courteous and kind to all. His station in life
had been his offence to Eliphalet, who strove now to hide
sa exultation that made him tremble.
546 THE CRISIS
"What do you mean, sir?" demanded the Colonel
again.
"I callate that I can gather together enough to mee't
the notes, Colonel. Just a little friendly transaction. "
Here followed an interval of sheer astonishment t<r
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 manager.
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 rise.
" I haven't been extravagant, Colonel, since I've worked
for you," he said. " It don't cost me much to live. Tve
been fortunate in investments."
The furrows in the Colonel's brow deepened.
" You offer to lend me five times more than I have eve?
paid you, Mr. Hopper. Tell me how you have mads
this money before I accept ii.s>
INTKODUCING A CAPITALIST 34?
Eliphalet had never been able to meet that eye since be
6ad known it. He did not meet it now. But he went
to his desk, and drew a long sheet of paper from a pigeon
hole.
" These be some of my investments,'5 he answered, with
just a tinge of surliness. " I cal'late they'll stand inspec-
tion. I ain't forcing you to take the money, sir," he
flared up, all at once. " I'd like to save the business."
Mr. Carvel was disarmed. He went unsteadily to his
desk, and none save God knew the shock that his pride
received that day* To rescue a name which had stood
untarnished since he had brought it into the world, he
drew forth some blank notes, and filled them out. But
before he signed them he spoke : —
"You are a business man, Mr. Hopper," said he,
u And as a business man you must know that these notes
will not legally hold. It is martial law. The courts are
abolished, and all transactions here in St. Louis are
invalid."
Eliphalet was about to speak.
44 One moment, sir," cried the Colonel, standing up and
towering to his full height. " Law or no law, you shall
have the money and interest, or your security, which is
this business. I need not tell you, sir, that my word is
sacred, and binding forever upon me and mine."
" I'm not afraid, Colonel," answered Mr. Hopper, with
a feeble attempt at geniality. He was, in truth, awed at
last.
" You need not be, sir ! " said the Colonel, with equal
force. "If you were — this instant you should leave this
place." He sat down, and continued more calmly s "It
will not be long before a Southern Army marches into St.
Louis, and the Yankee Government submits." He leaned
forward* "Do you reckon we can hold the business
together until then, Mr. Hopper ? "
God forbid that we should smile at the Colonel's simple
faith. And if Eliphalet Hopper had done so, his history
would have ended here.
" Leave that to me, Colonel/" he said soberly.
S45 THE CRISIS
Tnen eame tLe xeactlonc The good Colonel sighed s§
lie signed away that business which had been an hone?
to the city where it was founded, I thank heaven thai
we are not 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~timeo
Mr. Hopper filled out his check, and presently departed;1
It was the signal for the little force which remained to
leave. Outside, in the store* Ephum paced uneasily ? won
dering why his master did not come out. Presently he
crept to the door of the office, pushed it open, and beheld
Mr. Carvel with his head bowed down in his hands.
44 Marse Comyn I " he cried, 6S Marse Comyn ! "
The Colonel looked up. His face was haggard,
44 Marse Comyn, you know what I done promise young
Miss long time ago, befo5 — bef o: she done left us ? ?*
"Yes, Ephum."
He saw the faithful old negro but dimly. Faintly ha
lieard the pleading voice,
44 Marse Comyn, won' you give Ephum a pass down
river, ter fotch Cap'n Lige?"
44 Ephum," said the Colonel, sadiy, 4S I had a letter
from the Captain yesterday* He is at Cairo, His boa£
is a Federal transport, and he is in Yankee pay.v?
Ephum took a step forward, appealingly, M But de
Gap'n's yo' friend, Marse Comyn. He ain't never fo'get
what you done fo* him, Marse Cornyn0 He ain't in de
army, suh.,?
44 And I am the Captaius Mend, Ephum," answered ths
Colonel, quietly. a But I will not ask aid from any maia
employed by the Yankee Government, No — not from my
own brother, who is in a Pennsylvania regiment.
Ephum shuffled out, and his heart was lead as he dosed
£he store that night.
Mr. Hopper has boarded a Fifth Street cars which jangles
on with many halts until it comes to Bremen, a German!
settlement in the north of the city. At Bremen grea§
droves of mules nil the street, and crowd the entrances oi
zstroducesg a capitalist m
Hbe sals stables there. Whips are cracking like pistol
shots. Gentlemen with the yellow cavalry stripe of the
United States Army are pushing to and fro among the
drivers and the owners, and fingering the frightened ani-
mals. A herd breaks from the confusion and is driver-
like a whirlwind down the street, dividing at the Market
House. They are going to board the Government trans-
port — to die on the battlefields of Kentucky and Missouri.
Mr. Hopper alights from the car w ith complacency. He
stands for a while on a corner, against the hot building,
surveying the busy scene, unnoticed. Mules ! Was it
not a prophecy, — that drove which sent him into Mr,
Carvel's store ?
Presently a man with a gnawed yellow mustache and
B shifty eye walks out of one of the offices, and perceives
:»ui friend.
-' Howdy , Mr. Hopper ? n says he.
Eliphalet extends a hand to be squeezed and returned.
" Got them vouchers ? " he asks, He is less careful of
Ms English here.
" Wal, I jest reckon," is the answer. The fellow was
mterrupted by the appearance of a smart young man in a
smart uniform, who wore an air of genteel importance.
He could not have been more than two and twenty, and
his face and manners were those of a clerk. The tan of
field service was lacking on his cheek, and he was black
under the eyes.
** Hullo, Ford," he said, jocularly.
"Howdy, Cap," retorted the other, " Wal, suh, that
last lot was an extry, fo' sure. As clean a lot as ever I
seed. Not a lump on 'em. Gov'ment ain't cheated much
on them there at one-eighty a head, I reckon."
Mr. Ford said this with such an air of conviction and
such a sober face that the Captain smiled. And at the
same time he glanced down nervously at the new line of
buttons on his chest.
€f I guess I know a mule from a Newfoundland dog by
this time,'- said he.
' • Walv 1 ;est reckon,'' asserted Mr, Ford, with a loud
m> THE CRISIS
laugh, "Cap'n Wentworth, allow me to make
acquainted with Mr* Hopper. Mr. Hopper, Cap'r.
Wentworth."
The Captain squeezed Mr» Hopper's hand with fervor*
"You interested in mules, Mr. Hopper?" asked the
military man=
" I don't callate tc be," said Mr. Hopper. Let us
hope that our worthy has not been presented as being
wholly without a sense of humor. He grinned as he
!ooked upon this lamb in the uniform of Mars, and added,
H Tm just naturally patriotic, I guess. Cap'n, '11 you
hs,ye a drink?"
45 And a segar," added Mr, Ford.
" Just one," says the Captain. u It's d=— d tiresome
lookin' at mules all day in the sun."
Well for Mr. Davitt that his mission work does no£
extend to Bremen, that the good man's charity keeps him
at the improvised hospital down town. Mr„ Hopper hag
resigned the superinrendency of his Sunday School, it is
true, but he is still a pillar of the church.
The young officer leans against the bar, and listens to
stories 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 good
Lord put some fools into the world in order to give the
p. mart people a chance to practise their talents. Mr,
Hopper neither drinks nor smokes, but he uses the spittooia
with more freedom in this atmosphere,
When at length the Captain has marched out, with a
conscious but manly air, Mr. Hopper turns to Ford —
' "Don't lose no time in presenting them vouchers at
headquarters," says he, * Money is worth something
now. And there's grumbling about this Department in
the Eastern papers. If we have an investigation, well
whistle. How much to-day ? "
a Three thousand," says Mr. Ford. He tosses oft a
pony of Bourbon, but his face is not a delight to look upor
M Hopper, you'll be a &—& risk m&^ seme d&y ,
"leaHftte to."
OTTRODUCmG A CAPITALIST 8&
*J I dc the dirty work. And because I ain't got no caps-
Sal, I only get four per cent.'*
u Don't one-twenty a day suit you ? "
"You get blasted near a thousand* And you've got
horse contracts, and blanket contracts besides, I know
you. What's to prevent my goin' south when the Touch-
ers k cashed ? " he cried. M Ain't it possible ? "
" I presume likely," said Mr. Hopper5 quietly. u Then
your mother 11 have to move out cf her little place. '
OiSAPTlH 12
" £wm epithet aristocrat may become odioias and £&£&*
en the banks of the Mississippi as it was en the banks oi
the Seine. Let no xnan deceive himself I These are fear
ful times, Thousands of our population} by the sudden
stoppage of business, are thrown out of employment.
When gaunt famine intrudes upon their household, it is
but natural that they should inquire the cause. Hung©?
began the French Revolution/'
Virginia did not read thi? editorial, because it appeared
in that abhorred organ of the Mudsills, the Missouri
Democrat, The wheels of fortune were turning rapidly
that first hot summer of the war time. Let us be thank-
ful that our flesh and blood are incapable of the fury of
the guillotine. But when we think calmly of those daygj
©an ws escape without a little pity for the aristocrats 1
Do you think that many of them did not know hunge?
and want long before that cruel war was over ?
How bravely they met the grim spectre which crept m
insidiously into their homes !
u Virginia, child," said Mrs. Colfax, peevishly, one morn-
ing as they sat at breakfast, "why do you persist in
wearing that old gown ? It has gotten on my nerves, my
dear, You really must have something new mad89 even
if there are no men here to dress for."
^Aunt Lillian, you must not say such things. I do
not think that I ever dressed to please men.5'
"Tut, tut, my dear, we all do, I did, even after I
married your uncle* It is aaturaL We must not go
shabby in such times as theses or be out of fashion* Did
you know that Prince Napoleon was actually coming
S52
HEWS FROM CLARENCE
&ere for a Yisit this autumn? We must be iready loir
him. I am having a fitting at Miss Elder's to-day."
Virginia was learning patience. She did not reply as
4*e poured out her aunt's coffee.
4* Jinny," said that lady, " come with me to Elder's* and
I will give you some gowns, If Comyn had been as careful
si his own money as of mine, you could dress decently."
" I think I do dress decently, Aunt Lillian," answered
ihe girl. " I do not need the gowns. Give me the money
you intend to pay for them, and I can use it for a better
purpose."
Mrs. Colfax arranged her lace pettishlyo
"I am sick and tired of this superiority, Jinny." A&d,
in the same breath. " What would you do with it ? "
Virginia lowered her voice. " Hodges goes through the
lines to-morrow night* I should send it to Clarence."
u But you have no idea where Clarence is."
w Hodges can find him."
H Pshaw ! " exclaimed her aunt, u I would not trust
him. How do you know that he will get through the
Dutch pickets to Price's army? Wasn't Souther cap-
tured last week, and that rash letter of Puss Russell's
to Jack Brinsmade published in the DemoeratP^ Sha
laughed at the recollection, and Virginia was fain to
laugh too, 4SPuss hasn't been around much since. 1
hope that will cure her of saying what she thinks of
people."
M It won't," said Virginia.
"I'll save my money until Price drives the Yankees
iiom the state, and Clarence marches into the city at the
head of a regiment," Mrs. Colfax went on. M It won't be
•ong now."
Virginia's eyes flashed.
" Oh, you can't have read the papers ! And don't you
remember the letter Maude had from George? They
^eed the bare necessities of life, Aunt Lillian^ And hao
of Price's men have no arms at all."
" Jackson," said Mrs. Colfax, M bring me a newspaper.
Is there any news to=day ? "
|4
354 THE CRISIS
u Ng95? answered Virginia, quickly* u All we know is
that Lyon has left Springfield to meet our troops, and
that a great battle is coming, Perhaps — perhaps it is
being f ougl it to-day. s?
Mrs, Colfax burst into tears
M Oh, Jinny," she cried* " how can yon be so cruel ! w
That very evening a man, tall and lean, but with the
shrewd and kindly eye of a scout, came into the sitting-
room with the Colonel and handed a letter to Mrs. Colfax,
In the hail he slipped into Virginia's hand another, in a
46 Jefferson Davis " envelope, and she thrust it in her
gown — the girl was on fire as he whispered in her ear
that he had seen Clarence, and that he was well, In two
days an answer might be left at Mr. Russell's house. But
she must be careful what she wrote, as the Yankee scouts
were active,
Clarence, indeed, had proven himself a man, Glory
and uniform became him well, but danger and deprivat-
ion better. The words he had written, careless and
frank and boyish, made Virginia's heart leap with pride,
Mrs. Colfax's letter began with the adventure below the
Arsenal, when the frail skiff had sunk near the island.
He told how he had heard the captain of his escort sing
out to him in the darkness, and how he had floated down
the current instead, until, chilled and weary, he had con=
trived to seize the branches of a huge tree floating by.
And how by a miracle the moon had risen. When the
great Memphis packet bore down upon him, he had been
seen from her guards, and rescued and made much of °9
and set ashore at the next landing, for fear her captain
would get into trouble. In the morning he had walked
•into the country, first providing himself with butternuts
and rawhide boots and a bowie-knife, Virginia would
never have recognized her dashing captain of dragoons in
this guise.
The letter was long for Clarence, and written under
great difficulties from date to date? For nearly a month
he had tramped over mountains and across river bottoms,
malting for news of an organized force of resistance m
HEWS FKOM CLAEENCE 35g
Missouri Begging his way from cabin to cabin, and
living on greasy bacon and corn pone, at length he
crossed the swift Gasconade (so named by the French
settlers because of its brawling ways) where the bridge of
the Pacific railroad had been blown up by the Governor's
orders. Then he learned that the untiring Lyon had
steamed up the Missouri and had taken possession of Jef-
ferson City without a blow, and that the ragged rebel
force had fought and lost at Booneville, Footsore^ but
undaunted, he pushed on to join the army, which he heard
was retreating southward along the western tier of coun-
ties of the state
On the banks of the Osage he fell in with two other
young men in as bad a plight as himself. They travelled
together, until one day some rough farmers with shotguns
leaped out of a bunch of willows on the borders of a creek
&nd arrested all three for Union spies. And they laughed
when Mr* Clarence tried to explain that he had not long
since been the dapper captain of the State Dragoons,
His Excellency > the Governor of Missouri (so acknowl-
edged by all good Southerners), likewise laughed when
Mr-c Colfax and the two others were brought before him,
His Excellency sat in a cabin surrounded by a camp
which had caused the dogs of war to howl for very shame,
" Colfax ! '' cried the Governor, " A Colfax of S&
Louis in butternuts and rawhide boots ?"
" Give me a razor," demanded Clarence, with indigna »
tion, M a razor and a suit of clothes, and I will prove itc*'
The Governor laughed once more.
6£ A razor, young man I A suit of clothes ! You know
not what you ask."
45 Are there any gentlemen from St, Louis here ? "
George Catherwood was brought in, — or rather what
had once been George. Now he was a big frontiersman
with a huge blond beard, and a bowie knife stuck into his
trousers in place of a sword. He recognized his young
captain of dragoons 5 the Governor apologized, and Clar
ence slept that night in the cabin. The next day he wag
given & hcrse^ and a bright new rifle which the Gov-
SS6 THE CRISIS
ernor's soldiers had taken from the Dutch at Cole Camp
on the way south. And presently they made a junction
with threa thousand more who were their images* This
was Price's army, but Price had gone ahead into Kansas
to beg the great McCuIloch and his Confederates to come
to their aid and save the state,
' u Dear mother, I wish that you and Jinny and Uncle Comyn
eould have seen this country rabble. How you would have
laughed, and cried, because we are just like them. In the com-
bined army two thousand have only bowie-knives or clubs.
Some have long rifles of Daniel Boone's time, not fired for
thirty years. And the impedimenta are a sight, Open wagons
and conestogas and carryalls and buggies, and even barouches^
weighted down with frying-pans and chairs and feather beds.
But weVe got spirit, and we can whip Lyon's Dutchmen and!
Yankees just as we are. Spirit is what counts, and the Yankeee
haven't got it- I was made to-day a Captain of Cavalry undes
Colonel Rives. I ride a great, raw-boned horse like an elephant,
He jolts me until I am sore, — not quite as easy as my thor-
oughbred, Jefferson. Tell Jinny to care for him, and haw
him ready when we march into Stc Louis."
44 Cowskin Prairie, 9th July,
" We have whipped Sigel on the prairie by Coon Creek and
killed — we don't know how many. Tell Maude that George
distinguished himself in the fight. We cavalry did not get a
chance.
" We have at last met McCuIloch and his real soldiers. We
cheered until we cried when we saw their ranks of gray, with
the gold buttons and the gold braid and the gold stars. Gen-
eral McCuIloch has taken me on his staff, and promised me a
,unif orm. But how to clothe and feed and arm our men ! We
have only a few poor cattle, and no money. But our men don't
complain. We shall whip the Yankees before we starve."
For many days Mrs. Colfax did not cease to bewail the
hardship which her dear boy was forced to endure. He,
who was used to linen sheets and eider down, was without
a rough blanket or shelter ; who was used to the best table
in the state, was reduced to husks.
w Butj Aunt Lillian," cried Virginia, u he is fighting foi
NEWS FROM CLARENCE 357
the South. If he were fed and clothed like the Yankees,
we should not be half so proud of him."
Why set down for colder gaze the burning words that
Clarence wrote to Virginia. How she pored over that
letter, and folded it so that even the candle-droppings
would not be creased and fall away ! He was happy,
though wretched because he could not see her. It was
the life he had longed for. At last (and most pathetic !)
he was proving his usefulness in this world. He was no
longer the mere idler whom she had chidden.
"Jinny, do you remember saying so many years ago that
our ruin would come of our not being able to work ? How I
wish you could see us felling trees to make bullet-moulds, and
forging slugs for canister, and making cartridges at night with
our bayonets as candlesticks. Jinny dear, I know that you
will keep up your courage. I can see you sewing for us, I can
hear you praying for us."
It was, in truth, how Virginia learned to sew. She had
always detested it. Her fingers were pricked and sore
weeks after she began. Sad to relate, her bandages, shirts,
and havelocks never reached the front, ™ those havelocks,
to withstand the heat of the tropic sun, which were made
in thousands by devoted Union women that first summer
of the war, to be ridiculed as nightcaps by the soldiers.
" Why should not our soldiers have them, too ? " said
Virginia to the Russell girls. They were never so happy
as when sewing on them against the arrival of the Army
of Liberation, which never came.
The long, long days of heat dragged slowly, with little
to cheer those families separated from their dear ones bj
a great army. Clarence might die, and a month — per-
haps a year — pass without news, unless he were brought
a prisoner to St. Louis. How Virginia envied Maude
because the Union lists of dead and wounded would give
her tidings of her brother Tom, at least ! How she cov-
eted the many Union families, whose sons and brothers
were at the front, this privilege !
We were speaking of the French Revolution, when, as
is$§ THE CRISIS
Balzac remarked^ to be a spy was to be a patriot Heads
are not so cheap in our Anglo-Saxon countries ; passions
not so fierce and uncontrollable. Compare, with a promi=
aent historian, our Boston Massacre and St. Bartholomew,
They are both massacres. Compare Camp Jackson, or Bal-
timore, where a few people were shot, with some Paris
street scenes after the Bastile, Feelings in each instance
laezer ran higher . Our own provost marshal was hissed
in the street and called " Robespierre," and yet he did not
fear the assassin's knife. Our own Southern aristocrats
were hemmed in in a Union city (their own city). No
women were thrown into prison, it is true. Yet one was
not permitted to shout for Jeff Davis on the street corner
before the provost's guard, Once in a while a detach-
ment of the Home Guards, commanded by a lieutenant,
would march swiftly into a street and stop before a house,
whose occupants would run to the rear> only to encounter
another detachment in the alley*
One day, in great excitement, Eugenie Renault rang the
bell of the Carvel house, and ran past the astounded Jack-
son up the stairs to Virginia's room, the door of which she
burst open,
"Oh, Jinny' w she cried^ "Puss Russell s house is sur-
rounded by Yankees, and Puss and Emily and all the
family are prisoners? "
if Prisoners ! What for9" said Virginia, dropping in
!xer excitement her last year's bonnet, which she was trim-
ming with red, white, and red,
ffe Because," said Eugenie, sputtering with indignation^
M because they waved at some of our poor fellows who?
were being taker to the slave pen. They were being
manhed past Mr, Russell's house under guard — Puss had
a small — "
^ Confederate flag " put in Virginia, smiling in spite of
herself
64 And she waved it between the shutters," Eugenie 3011=
tinned "And some one told the provost marshal. He
has had the fccnse surrounded, and the family hay© to stay
NEWS FROM CLARENCE 359
•
" But if the food gives out ? "
*6 Then,** said Miss Renault, in a voice of awe, w then
each one of the family is to hcve just a common army
ration. They are to be treated as prisoners.'*
"Oh, those Yankees are detestable !" exclaimed Virginia,
" But they shall pay for it. As soon as our army is organ
ized and equipped, they shall pay for it ten times over.5'
She tried on the bonnet, conspicuous with its red and white
ribbons, before the glass. Then she ran to the closet and
drew forth the white gown with its red trimmings. " Wait
for me, Genie," she said, "and we'll go down to Puss's
house togethero It may cheer her to see us."'
u But not in that dress/' said Eugenie, aghast,, " They
will arrest you."
" Oh, how I wish they would! " cried Virginia* And her
eyes flashed so that Eugenie was frightened. u How I wish
they would I '?
Miss Renault regarded her friend with something of ad-
oration from beneath her black lashes. It was about five in
the afternoon when they started out together under Vir-
ginia's white parasol, Eugenie's slimmer courage upheld by
her friend's bearing. We must remember that Virginia
was young, and that her feelings were akin to those our
great-grandmothers experienced when the British held New
York, It was as if she had been born to wear the red and
white of the South. Elderly gentlemen of Northern per=
suasion paused in their homeward walk to smile in admira-
tion, ■ — some sadly, as Mr„ Brinsmade. Young gentlemen
found an excuse to retrace their steps a block or two. But
Virginia walked on air, and saw nothing. She was between
fierce anger and exaltation. She did not deign to drop her
eyes as low as the citizen sergeant and guard in front of
Puss Russell's house (these men were only human, after
all); she did not so much as glance at the curious people
standing on the corner, who could not resist a murmur of
delight. The citizen sergeant only smiled, and made no
move to arrest the young lady in red and whitec Nor did
Puss fling open the blinds and wave at her,
" I suppose it's because Mr Russell won't let hers" said
8GC THE CRISIS
Virginia, dLsconsoiateiy, *■ Genie, lets go to headquar
ters, and show this Yankee General Fremont that we are
not afraid of him/'
Eugenie's breath was taken away by the very boldness of
this proposition, She looked up timidly into Virginia s
face, and hero-worship got the better of prudence.
The house which General Fremont appropriated for hia
Use when lie came back from Europe to assume command
In the West was not a modest one. It still stands, a large
mansion of brick with a stone front, very tall and very
wide, with an elaborate cornice and plate-glass windows,
both tall and broad, and a high basement. Two stately
stone porches capped by elaborate iron railings adorn it in
front and on the side. The chimneys are generous and
proportional In short, the house is of that type built by
many wealthy gentlemen in the middle of the century 4
which has best stood the test of time, — the only type
which, if repeated to-day, would not clash with the archi-
tectural education which we are receivings A spacious
yard well above the pavement surrounds it, sustained by
& wall of dressed stones, capped by an iron fence. The
whole expressed wealth, security, solidity, conservatism,
Alas, that the coal deposits under the black mud of our
Western states should, at length, have driven the owners
of these houses out of them! They are now blackened,
almost buried in soot^ empty , or half tenanted by board-
ers. Descendants of the old families pass them on their
way to business or to the theatre with a sigh0 The sons
of those who owned them have built westward, and west
ward again, until now they are six miles from the river,
On that summer evening forty years ago, when Vir-
ginia and Eugenie came in sight of the house, a scene of
great animation was before them. Talk was rife over
the commanding general's pomp and circumstance, He
Lad just returned from Europe, where pomp and circum-
stance and the military were wedded. Foreign officers
should come to America to teach our army dress and
manners, A dashing ungarian commanded the gen=
sraTa 'body-guard, which Honorable corps was even their
NEWS FROM CLAKENCE 36^
drawn up in the street before the house, surrounded at a
respectable distance by a crowd that feared to jest. They
felt like it save when they caught the stern military eye
of the Hungarian captain. Virginia gazed at the glitter
mg uniforms, resplendent in the sun, and at the sleek and
well-fed horses, and scalding tears came as she thought
of the half -starved rabble of Southern patriots on the
burning prairies. Just then a sharp command escaped in
broken English from the Hungarian* The people in the
yard of the mansion parted, and the General himself
walked proudly out of the gate to the curb, where his
charger was pawing the gutter. As he put foot to the
stirrup, the eye of the great man (once candidate, and
again to be, for President) caught the glint of red and
white on the corner. For an instant he stood transfixed
to the spot, with one leg in the air0 Then he took it
down again and spoke to a young officer of his staff, who
smiled and began to walk toward them. Little Eugenie's
knees trembled* She seized Virginia's arm, and whis-
pered in agony i —
" Oh, Jinny, you are to be arrested, after all. Oh, I
wish you hadn't been so bold ! "
"Hush!5* said Virginia, as she prepared to slay the
young officer with a look. She felt like flying at his
throat, and choking him for the insolence of that smile .
How dare he march undaunted to within six paces of
those eyes ? The crowd drew back. But did Miss Car=
vel retreat ? Not a step. " Oh, I hope he will arrest
me," she said passionately, to Eugenie, " He will start a
conflagration beyond the power of any Yankee to quell."
But hush 1 he was speaking, " You are my prisoners ,s 1
No, those were not the words, surely* The lieutenant
had taken off his cap. He bowed very low and said :
" Ladies, the General's compliments, and he begs that
this much of the sidewalk may be kept clear for a few
momentSo?*
What was left for them, after that, save a retreat? But
£t was not precipitate. Miss Virginia crossed the street
with a dignity and bearing which drew even the eyes of
862 THE CKISIS
the body-guard to one side. And there she stood haugh-
tily until the guard and the General had thundered away*
A crowd of black-coated civilians, and quartermasters
and other officers in uniform, poured out of the basement
of the house into the }rardo One civilian, a youngish man
a little inclined to stoutness, stopped at the gate, stared,
then thrust some papers in his pocket and hurried clownj
the side street. Three blocks thence he appeared abreast
of Miss Carvel, More remarkable still, he lifted his hat
clear of his head, Virginia drew fotck. Mr, Hopper,
with his newly acquired equanimity and poise, startled
her.
'* May I have the pleasure," said that gentleman, ** of
accompanying you home ? "
Eugenie giggled, Virginia was more annoyed than she
showed,
" You must not come out of your way," she said9 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 himc 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.
w Business is not so pressing nowadays, Miss Carvel/*
he answered, with a shade of meaning,
M Then existence must be rather heavy for you,'3' she
saido She made no attempt to introduce him to Eugenie,
w If we should have any more victories like Bull Run,
prosperity 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
sided " How dare you speak flippantly of such things ? * J
His suavity was far from overthrown
^Ffiipparitiy, Miss Carvel?'' said he. 6il assure youj
NEWS FBOM CLAKENCE 363
that I want to see the South win.55 What he did no^
know was that words seldom convince women. But he
added something which reduced her incredulity for the
time "Do you cal'late," said he, "that I could work to
your father, and wish ruin to his country ? "
u But you are a Yankee born," she exclaimed.
65 There be a few sane Yankees," replied Mr, Hopper,
dryly, A remark which made Eugenie laugh outright,
and Virginia could not refrain from a smile,
But much against her will he walked home with her.
She was indignant by the time she reached Locust Street >
He had never dared do such a thing before. What had
got into the man? Was it because he had become a
manager, and governed the business during her father's
frequent absences ? No matter what Mr. Hopper's poli=
tics, he would always be to her a low-born Yankee, a
person wholly unworthy of notice,
At the corner of Olive Street, a young man walking
with long strides almost bumped into them, He paused,
looked back, and bowed as if uncertain of an acknowledge
mentc Virginia barely returned his bow, He had been
very close to her, and she had had time to notice that his
coat was threadbare. When she looked again, he had
covered half the block, Why should she care if Stephen
Brice had seen her in company with Mr. Hopper ?
Eliphalet, too, had seen Stephen, and this had added
zest to his enjoyment, It was part of the fruits of his
reward. He wished in that short walk that he might meet
Mr. Cluyme and Belle, and every man and woman and
child in the city whom he knew. From time to time he
glanced at the severe profile of the aristocrat beside him
(he had to look up a bit, likewise), and that look set him
down among the beasts of prey, For she was his rightful
prey, and he meant not to lose one tittle of enjoyment in
the progress of the game, Many and many a night in the
bare little back room at Miss Crane's Eliphalet had gloated
over the very event which was now come to pass. Not a
step of the way but what he had lived through beforeo
The future is laid opes, to suck men as he. Since he had
164 THE CRISIS
first seen the black cloud of war rolling up from tha
South, a hundred times had he rehearsed the scene with
Colonel Carvel which had actually taken place a week
before. A hundred times had he prepared his speech and
manner for this first appearance in public with Virginia
after he had forced the right to walk in her company,
jThe words he had prepared — commonplace, to be sure,
Jbut carefully chosen — flowed from his lips in a continual
r.asai stream. The girl answered absently, her feminine
instinct groping after a reason for it all. She brightened
when she saw her father at the door ; and, saying good-
by to Eugenie, tripped up the steps, bowing to Eiiphalet
coldly.
" Why, bless us, Jinny," said the Colonel, " you haven't
been parading the town in that costume I You'll have u&
in Lynch's slave pen by to-morrow night. My land ! '?
laughed he, patting her under the chin, " there's no doubt
about your sentiments, anyhow."
"I've been over to Puss Russell's house," said she,
breathless. "They've closed it up, you know — " (He
nodded.) "And then we went — Eugenie and I, to head
quarters, just to see what the Yankees would do."
The Colonel's smile faded. He looked grave, " Yoiii
must take care, honey," he said, lowering his voiceo
64 They suspect me now of communicating with the Gov-
ernor and McCuiloch. Jinny, it's all very well to be
brave, and to stand by your colors. But this sort of
thing," said he, stroking the gown, "this sort of thing
doesn't help the South, my dear, and only sets spies upon
us, Ned tells me that there was a man in plain clothes
standing in the alley last night for three hours*"
"Oh, Pa," cried the girl, "I'm so sorry." Suddenly
searching his face with a swift instinct, she perceived that
these months had made it yellow and lined. " Pa, dear;
you must come to Glencoe to-morrow and rest Yon
must not go off on any more trips."
The Colonel shook his head sadly,
" It isn't the trips, Jinny a There are duties, my d3^
pleasant duties — Jinny — s?
KEWS FEOM CLABENCE 3€d
«Yes?"
The Colonel's eye had suddenly fallen on Mr, Hopper3
who was still standing at the bottom of the steps, He
checked himself abruptly as Eliphaiet pulled off his hat,
u Howdy, Colonel ? " he said.
Virginia was motionless, with her back to the intruder,
She was frozen by a presentiment As she saw her father
Btart down the steps, she yearned to throw herself in front
of him — to warn him of something, she knew not what,
Then she heard the Colonel's voice, courteous and kindly
as ever, And yet it broke a little as he greeted his
visitor.
" Won't — won't you come in, Mr. Hopper r w
Virginia started.
fe- 1 don't know but what I will, thank you, Colonel,?s he
answered, easily. "I took the liberty of walking home
with your daughter*"
Virginia fairly flew into the house and up the stairs,
Gaining her room, she shut the door and turned the key;
as though he might pursue her there, The man's face
had all at once become a terror. She threw herself on the
lounge and buried her face in her hands, and she saw it
still leering at her with a new confidence. Presently she
grew calmer ; rising, she put on the plainest of her scanty
wardrobe, and went down the stairs, ail in a strange trepi-
dation new to her. She had never been in fear of a man
before, She hearkened over the banisters for his voice,
heard it, and summoned all her courage. How cowardly
she had been to leave her father alone with him !
Eliphaiet stayed to tea, It mattered little to him that
Mrs, Colfax ignored him as completely as if his chair had
been vacant, He glanced at that lady once, and smiled,
for he was tasting the sweets of victory. It was Virginia
who entertained him, and even the Colonel never guessed
what it cost her, Eliphaiet himself marvelled at her
change of manner, and gloated over that likewise. Not
a turn or a quiver of the victim's pain is missed by your
beast of prey. The Colonel was gravely polite, but pre=
occupied. Had he wished it, he could not have been rudi
366 THE CRISIS
to a guestc He offered Mr. Hopper a cigar with the sarns
air that he would have given it to a governor.
" Thanksee, Colonel, I don't smoke," he said, waving the
box away,
Mrs. Colfax flung herself out of the room.
It was ten o'clock when Eliphalet reached Mis3 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 i " where
have you been so late ? "
'* I happened round at Colonel CarvePs this afternoon,
and stayed for tea with 'em," he answered, striving to
speak casually.
Miss Crane lingered in Mrs. Abner Reed's room lates*
than usual that night.
CHAPTER III
^HE SCOURGE OF WAR
66 Virginia,5' said Mrs. Colfax, the next morning on
coming downstairs, "I am going back to Bellegarde to-
day, I really cannot put up with such a person as Comyn
had here to tea last night."
" Very well, Aunt Lillian. At what time shall I order
the carriage?"
The lady was surprised. It is safe to say that she
had never accurately gauged the force which Virginia's
respect for her elders, and affection for her aunt through
Clarence, held in check. Only a moment since Mrs. Col=
fax had beheld her niece. Now there had arisen in front
of her a tall person of authority, before whom she deferred
instinctively. It was not what Virginia said, for she
would not stoop to tirade. Mrs. Colfax sank into a chair,
seeing only the blurred lines of a newspaper the girl had
thrust into her hand.
" What — what is it ? " she gasped. " I cannot read."
" There has been a battle at Wilson's Creek," said Vir=
ginia, in an emotionless voice. " General Lyon is killed,
for which I suppose we should be thankful. More than
seven hundred of the wounded are on their way here,
They are bringing them one hundred and twenty miles,
from Springfield to Rollo, in rough army wagons, with
scarcely anything to eat or drink."
"And — Clarence?"
" His name is not there."
" Thank God ! " exclaimed Mrs. Colfax, " Are the Yan~
kees beaten?"
"Yes," said Virginia, coldly, "At what time shall I
order the carriage to take you to Bellegarde?''
S68 THE CRISIS
Mrs. Colfax leaned forward and caught the hem of hei
niece's gown. " Oh, let me stay," she cried, "let me stayc
Clarence may be with them."
Virginia looked down at her without pity.
uAs you please, Aunt Lillian," she answered. "You
know that you may always stay here. I only beg of you
one thing, that when you have anything to complain of,
you will bring it to me, and not mention it before Pa. Hb
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 ii>
pieces?"
But she did not lift her voice at dinner, which was very
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 fumi
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 net
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
k© went back to the improvised wards to find Virginia
THE SCOUKGE OF WAR 369
busy over a gaunt Arkansan of Price's army, whose pitiful,
fever-glazed eyes were following her every motion. His
frontiersman's clothes, stained with blackened blood, hung
limp over his wasted body. At Virginia's bidding the
Colonel ran downstairs for a bucket of fresh water, and
she washed the caked dust from his face and hands. It
was Mr. Brinsmade who got the surgeon to dress the man's
wound, and to prescribe some of the broth from Virginia'"
basket. For the first time since the war began something
of happiness entered her breast.
It was Mr. Brinsmade who was everywhere that day,
answering the questions of distracted mothers and fathers
and sisters who thronged the place ; consulting with the
surgeons; helping the few who knew how to work in
placing mattresses under the worst cases; or again he
might have been seen seated on the bare floor with a pad
on his knee, taking down the names of dear ones in distant
states, — that he might spend his night writing to them.
They put a mattress under the Arkansan. Virginia did
not leave him until he had fallen asleep, and a smile of
peace was come upon his sunken face. Dismayed at the
fearful sights about her, awed by the groans that rose on
every side, she was choosing her way swiftly down the
room to join her father and aunt in the carriage below0
The panic of flight had seized her. She felt that another
little while in this heated, horrible place would drive her
mad. She was almost at the door when she came sud-
denly upon a sight that made her pause.
An elderly lady in widow's black was kneeling beside
a man groaning in mortal agony, fanning away the flies
already gathering about his face. He wore the uniform
of a Union sergeant, — dusty and splotched and torn. A
small Testament was clasped convulsively in the fingers
of his right hand. The left sleeve was empty. Virginia
lingered, whelmed in pity, thrilled by a wonderful woman-
liness of her who knelt there. Her face the girl had not
even seen, for it was bent over the man. The sweetness
of her voice held Virginia as in a spell, and the sergeant
stopped groaning that he might listen.
ir€> THE CKISIS
" You have a wife ? n
" Yes, ma'am."
"And a child?"
The answer came so painfully.,
" A boy, ma'am — born the week— before I came— away '
" I shall write to your wife," said the lady, so gently that
Virginia could scarce hear, "and tell her that you are
cared for. Where does she live9"
He gave the address faintly — some little 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 tears sparkled in
her eyes. Virginia felt them wet in her own. Her wor-
ship was not given to many. Nobility, character, effi-
ciency, — all were written on that face. Nobility spoke in
the large features, in the generous mouth, in the calm, gray
eyes. Virginia had seen her often before, but not until
now was the woman revealed to her.
u Doctor, could this man's life be saved if I took him to
my home ? "
The surgeon got down beside her and took the man's
pulse. The eyes closed. For a while the doctor knelt
there, shaking his 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 man gives
after eighteen hours of amputating, of bandaging, of advis*
ing, — work which requires a firm hand, a clear eye and
brain, and a good heart.
w My dear Mrs. Brice," he said, " I shall be glad to get
you permission to take him, but we must first make him
worth the taking. Another hour would have been too
late." He glanced hurriedly about the busy room, and then
added, " We must have one more to help us."
Just then some one touched Virginia's arm. It was her
father,
" I am afraid we must go, dear," he said % K your aunt is
getting impatient."
"Won't you please go without me, Pa?* she asked,
n Perhaps I can be of some use.;*
THE SCOURGE OF WAR ST*
The Colonel cast a wondering glance at the limp uniform^
and went away* The surgeon, who knew the Carve!
ffamily, gave Virginia a look of astonishment. It was Mrs,
Brice's searching gaze that brought the color to the girl's
face.
w Thank you, my dear," she said simply,
As soon as he could get his sister-in-law off to Locust
Street in the carriage, Colonel Carvel came back. For two
reeking hours he stood against the newly plastered walL
Even he was surprised at the fortitude and skill Virginia
showed from the very first, when she had deftiy cut away
the stiffened blue cloth, and helped to take ~ff the rough
bandages, At length the fer.^ful operation was finished,
And the weary surgeon, gathering up his box, expressed
with all the energy left to him, his thanks to the two
ladies,
Virginia stood up, faint and dizzy. The work of her
hands had sustained her while it lasted, but now the ordeal
was come, She went down the stairs on her father's arm,
and out into the air. All at once she knew that Mrs,
Brice was beside her* and had taken her by the hand,
" My dear," she was saying, " God will reward you for
this act. You have taught many of us to-day a lesson w©
should have learned in our Bibles."
Virginia trembled with many emotions, but she an-
swered nothing. The mere presence of this woman had
a strange effect upon the girl, — she was filled with a
longing unutterable. It was not because Margaret Brice
was the mother of him whose life had been so strangely
blended with hers — whom she saw in her dreams. And
yet now some of Stephen's traits seemed to come to her
understanding, as by a revelation. Virginia had labored
through the heat of the day by Margaret Brice's side —
doing His work, which levels all feuds and makes all
women sisters. One brief second had been needful for
the spell.
The Colonel bowed with that courtesy and respect
which distinguished him, and Mrs. Brice left them to go
back into the room of torment, and watch by the sen*
m2 THE CRISIS
geant's pallet, Virginia's eyes followed her up the stairs*
and then she and her father walked slowly to the carriage.
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 Arkansan into our house ? "
"Why, honey, I'll ask Brinsmade if you like/' said the1
Colonel. " Here he comes now, and Anne."
It was Virginia who put the question to him.
" My dear,'* replied that gentleman, patting her, " ]
would do anything in the world for you. I'll see Gem!
eral Fremont this very afternoon. Virginia," he added, |
soberly, " it is such acts as yours to-day that give us courage i
to live in these times."
Anne kissed her friend,
" Oh, Jinny, I saw what you were doing for one of our j
men. What am I saying?" she cried. "They are your
men, too. This horrible war cannot last. It cannot last/'
It was well that Virginia did not see the smile on the
lace 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,
gear the workings of a great system. But the General
had had his eye on Mr. Carvel from the first. Therefore
he smiled.
t4 Colonel Carvel," said Mr. Brinsmade, with dignity,
" is a gentleman. When he gives his word, it is sacredj
sir."
"Even to an enemy," the General put in. "By
George, Brinsmade, unless I knew you, I should think that
you were half rebel yourself. Well, well, he may have'
his Arkansan."
Mr. Brinsmade, when he conveyed the news to the Carvel
house, did not say that he had wasted a precious afternoon
In the attempt to interview his Excellency, the Commander •
In-chief . It was like obtaining an audience with the Sultan
or the Czar, Citizens who had been prominent in affairs
for twenty yearss philanthropists and patriotic-spirited men
Eke Mr0 Brinsmade9 the m%j or, and all the ex-mayors mopped
THE SCOUKGE OF WAS 37B
their brows in one of the general's anterooms of the big
mansion, and wrangled with beardless youths in bright
uniforms who were part of the chain. The General migrri
have been a Richelieu, a Marlborough. His European
notions of uniformed inaccessibility he carried out to the
letter. He was a royal personage, seldom seen, who went
abroad in the midst of a glittering guard. It did not seem
to weigh with his Excellency that these simple and demo-
cratic gentlemen would not put up with this sort of thing,
That they who had saved the city to the Union were more
or less in communication with a simple and democratic
President; that in all their lives they had never been in
the habit of sitting idly for two hours to mop their brows.
On the other hand, once you got beyond the gold lace
and the etiquette, you discovered a good man and a patriots
It was far from being the General's fault that Mr. Hopper
and others made money in mules and worthless army blan-
kets. Such things always have been, and always will be
unavoidable when this great country of ours rises from the
deep sleep of security into which her sons have lulled her,
to demand her sword. We shall never be able to realize
that the maintenance of a standing army of comfortable
size will save millions in the end. So much for Democracy
when it becomes a catchword.
The General was a good man, had he done nothing else
than encourage the Western Sanitary Commission, that
glorious army of drilled men and women who gave up all
to relieve the suffering which the war was causing. Would
that a novel — a great novel — might be written setting
forth with truth its doings. The hero of it could be Calvin
Brinsmade, and a nobler hero than he was never under a
man's hand. For the glory of generals fades beside his
glory.
It was Mr. Brinsmade's carriage that brought Mrs. Brice
home from her trying day in the hospital. Stephen, just
returned from drill at Verandah Hall, met her at the door,
She would not listen to his entreaties to rest, but in the
evening, as usual, took her sewing to the porch behind tka
house^ where there was a little breeze,
374 THE CEISIS
" Such a singular thing happened to-day, Stephen," sh*
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,'1
she said. " I saw the — the flies around him. And as I
got down beside him to fan them away I had such a queei
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
ooe when the Judge was so ill ? "
44 Yes," said Stephen.
44 She is a wonderful creature," his mother continued,
" Such personality, such life ! 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 lap the night-shirt she was making. 44 1
saw how it happened. The girl was carried away by her
pity. And, my dear, her capability 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.
I felt that I must say something to her, for in all my 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, and she had been
working steadily in that place since morning. I am sure
she could not have borne it much longer. Sheer courage
carried her through it, I know, for her hand trembled so
when I took it, and she was very pale. She usually has
solor9 I believe . Her father, the Colonel, was with her,
THE SCOURGE OF WAR 375
and he bowed to me with such politeness. He had stood
against the wall all the while we had worked, and he
brought a mattress for us. I have heard that his house is
watched, and that they have him under suspicion for com-
municating with the Confederate leaders." Mrs. Brice
sighed. "He seems such a fine character. I hope they-
will not get into any trouble."
" I hope not, mother," said Stephen,
It was two mornings later that Judge Whipple and
Stephen drove to the Iron Mountain depot, where they
found a German company of Home Guards drawn up.
On the long wooden platform under the sheds Stephen
caught sight of Herr Korner and Herr Hauptmann amid a
group of their countrymen. Little Korner came forward to
clasp his hands. The tears ran on his cheeks, and he could
not speak for emotion. Judge Whipple, grim and silent,
stood apart. But he uncovered his head with the others
when the train rolled in. Reverently they entered a car
where the pine boxes were piled one on another, and they
bore out the earthly remains of Captain Carl Richter.
Far from the land of his birth, among those same oaks
on Bloody Hill where brave Lyon fell, he had gladly given
up his life for the new country and the new cause he had
made his own.
That afternoon in the cemetery, as the smoke of the last
salute to a hero hung in the flickering light and drifted
upward through the great trees, as the still air was yet
quivering with the notes of the bugle-call which is the
soldiers' requiem, a tall figure, gaunt and bent, stepped out
from behind the blue line of the troops. It was that of
Judge Whipple. He carried in his hand a wreath of white
roses - — the first of many to be laid on Richter's grave.
Poor Richter ! How sad his life had been ! And yet
he had not filled it with sadness. For many a month,
and many a year, Stephen could not look upon his empty
place without a pang, He missed the cheery songs and
the earnest presence even more than he had thought,
Oarl Richter, — as his father before him. — had lived for
376 THE CRISIS
others. Both had sacrificed their bodies for a cause. One
of them might be pictured as he trudged with Father Jahn
from door to door through the Rhine country, or shoulder-
ing at sixteen a heavy musket in the Landwehr's 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 thankless country, his
hopes lived again 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
in death, for he had helped perpetuate that great UnioB
which should be for all time the refuge of the oppressed*
CHAPTER IV
THE LIST OF SIXTY
One chilling day in November, when an icy rain was
falling on the black mud of the streets, Virginia looked out
of the window. Her eye was caught by two horses which
were just skeletons with the skin stretched over them. One
had a bad sore on his flank, and was lame. They were
pulling a rattle-trap farm wagon with a buckled wheel.
On the seat a man, pallid and bent and scantily clad, was
holding the reins in his feeble hands, while beside him
cowered a child of ten wrapped in a ragged blanket. In
the body of the wagon, lying on a mattress pressed down
in the midst of broken, cheap furniture and filthy kitchen
ware, lay a gaunt woman in the rain. Her eyes were
closed, and a hump on the surface of the dirty quilt beside
her showed that a child must be there. From such a pic=
ture the girl fled in tears. But the sight of it, and of others
like it, haunted her for weeks. Through those last dreary
days of November, wretched families, which a year since
had been in health and prosperity, came to the city, beg-
gars, with the wrecks of their homes. The history of that
hideous pilgrimage across a state has never been written.
Still they came by the hundred, those families. Soma
brought little corpses to be buried. The father of one,
hale and strong when they started, died of pneumonia in
the public lodging-house. The walls oi that house could
tell many tales to wring the heart. So could Mr. Brins=>
made, did he choose to speak of his own charities. He
found time, between his labors at the big hospital newly
founded, and his correspondence, and his journeys of love,
— between early morning and midnight, — = to give some
hours a day to the refugees.
377
m THE CRISIS
Throughout December they poured in on the afflicted
city, already overtaxed. All the way 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 Brinsmade, driven by Nicodemus, went from house
to house to solicit old clothes, and take them to the crowded
place of detention. Christmas was drawing 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. Another general bad come to St. Louis to take
charge of the Department, and the other with his wondrous
body-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 Orders No. 24. "Inasmuch," said
the General, " as the Secession army had driven these people
from their homes, Secession sympathizers should be made
to support them.'* He added that the city was unquestion-
ably full of these. Indignation was 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
conspicuous ones. Colonel Carvel was sure to be there,
and Mr. Catherwood and Mr. Russell and Mr. James, and
Mr. Worington the lawyer. Mrs. Addison Colfax 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 little amuse-
ment. For Virginia was human, and one morning she went
to her aunt's room to read this editorial from the news*
$aper i —
THE LIST OF SIXTY
""For the relief of many palpitating hearts it may b&
well to state that we understand only two ladies are on
the ten thousand dollar list."
"Jinny," she cried, "how can you be so cruel as to
read me that, when you know that I am in a state of frenzy
now? How does that relieve me? It makes it an absolute
certainty that Madame Jules and I will have to pay. We
are the only women of importance in the city."
That afternoon she made good her much-uttered threat,
and drove to Bellegarde. Only the Colonel and Virginia
and Mammy Easter and Ned were left in the big house,
Rosetta and Uncle Ben and Jackson had been hired out,
and the horses sold, — all save old Dick, who was running,
long-haired, in the fields at Glencoe.
Christmas eve was a steel-gray day, and the sleet froze
as it fell. Since morning Colonel Carvel had sat poking
the sitting-room fire, or pacing the floor restlessly. His
occupation was gone. He was observed night and day by
Federal detectives. Virginia strove to amuse him, to con-
ceal her anxiety as she watched him. Well she knew that
but for her he would long since have fled southward, and
often in the bitterness of the night-time she blamed herself
for not telling him to go, Ten years had seemed to pass
over him since the war had begun.
All day long she had been striving to put away from
her the memory of Christmas eves past and gone ; of her
father's early home-coming from the store, a mysterious
smile on his face ; of Captain Lige stamping noisily into
the house, exchanging uproarious jests with Ned and Jack
son. The Captain had always carried under his arm a
shapeless bundle which he would confide to Ned with a
knowing wink* And then the house would be lighted
from top to bottom, and Mr. Russell and Mr. Catherwood
and Mr. Brinsmade came in for a long evening with Mr,
Carvel over great bowls of apple toddy and egg-nog. And
Virginia would have her own friends in the big parlor,
That parlor was shut up now, and icy cold=
Then there was Judge Whipple, the joyous event of
whose year was his Christmas dinner at Colonel Carvel9?
880 THE CRISIS
house. Virginia pictured him this year at Mrs. Brice§
little table, and wondered whether he would miss them as
much as they missed him. War may break friendships*
but it cannot take away the sacredness 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 muffled 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 ? n
64 1 reckon so, honey*"
" The brute ! Are you going to pay ? "
"No, Jinny. "
" Then they will take away the f urnitureo"
" I reckon they will."
" Pa, 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.9S
Then he added, strangely enough for him, " God's will 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?39
The Colonel rose, and went to the door himself. He
•vas an imposing figure as he stood in the windy vestibule,
onfronting the deputy, Virginia's first impulse was to
shrink under the stairs. Then she came out and stood
beside her father.
44 Are you Colonel Carvel ? "
" I reckon I am. Will you come in ? M
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 coat and drew from his
inner pocket a paper.
THE LIST OF SIXTY 3811
M Colonel Carvel," said he, " by order of Major General
Halleck, I serve you with this notice to pay the sum of
three hundred and fifty dollars for the benefit of the desti-
tute families which the Rebels have driven from their homes,
In default of payment within a reasonable time such per=
sonal articles will be seized and sold at public auction as wiD
satisfy the demand against you."
The Colonel took the paper. w Very well, sir," he said.
* You may tell the General that the articles may be seized.
That I will not, while in my right mind, be forced to sup-
port persons who have no claim upon me."
It was said in the tone in which he might have refused
an invitation to dinner., The deputy marvelled. He had
gone into many houses that week ; had seen indignation9
hysterics, frenzy. He had even heard men and women
whose sons and brothers were in the army of secession pro=
claim their loyalty to the Union. But this dignity, and the
quiet scorn of the girl who had stood silent beside them,
were new. He bowed, and casting his eyes to the vesti-
bule, was glad to escape from the house.
The Colonel shut the door. Then he turned toward Vir
ginia, thoughtfully pulled his goatee, and laughed gently,
44 Lordy, we haven't got three hundred and fifty dollars
to our names,'? said he.
The climate of St. Louis is capricious. That fierce val-
ley of the Missouri, which belches fitful 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 in soft mud. It is neither summer, nor winter* nor
spring, nor anything.
It was such a languorous afternoon in January that a
furniture van, accompanied by certain nondescript persons
known as United States Police, pulled up at the curb in
front of Mr. Carvel's house.. Eugenie, watching at the
window across the street, ran to tell her father, who came
out on his steps and reviled the van with all the fluency
of his French ancestors.
382 THE CRISIS
Mammy Easter opened the door, and then stood with
her arms akimbo, amply filling its place. Her lips pro-
truded, and an expression of defiance 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.w An
embarrassed silence, and then from Mammy, "Whaffor
you laffin at ? "
" 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 ! " cried Mammy, bursting with
indignation. " Who is you to come heah 'quiring for her I
I ain't agwine — ■ "
" Mammy ! "
"Yas'm! Yas, Miss Jinny." 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 men, 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
fibruptly.
"I have a warrant here from the Provost Marshal,
THE LIST OF SIXTY 383
ma'am, to seize personal property to satisfy a claim against
Colonel Carvel."
Virginia took the order, read it, and handed it back.
" I do not see how I am to prevent you," she said.
The deputy was plainly abashed.
" I'm sorry, Miss. I — I can't tell you how sorry I am.
But it's got to be done."
Virginia nodded coldly. And still the man hesitated.
" What are you waiting for? " she said.
The deputy wiped his muddy feet. He made his men
do likewise. Then he entered the chill drawing-room,
threw open the blinds and glanced around him.
" I expect all that we want is right here," he said.
And at the sight of the great chandelier, with its cut-glass
crystals, he whistled. Then he walked over to the big
English Rothfield piano and lifted the lid.
The man was a musician. Involuntarily he rested him-
self on the mahogany stool, and ran his fingers over the
keys. They seemed to Virginia, standing motionless in
the hall, to give out the very chords of agony.
The piano, too, had been her mother's. It had once
stood in the brick house of her grandfather Colfax at Hal-
cyonrlale. The songs of Beatrice lay on the bottom shelf
of the what-not near by. No more, of an evening when
they were alone, would Virginia quietly take them out
and play them over to the Colonel, as he sat dreaming in
the window with his cigar, — dreaming of a field on the
borders of a wood, of a young girl who held his hand, and
sang them softly to herself as she walked by his side.
And, when they reached the house in the October twilight,
she had played them for him on this piano. Often he
had told Virginia of those days, and walked with her over
those paths.
The deputy closed the lid, and sent out to the van for
a truck. Virginia stirred. For the first time she heard
the words of Mammy Easter.
"Come along upstairs wid yo'' Mammy, honey. Dis
ain't no place for us, I reckon." Her words were the
essence of endearment. And yet, while she pronounced
384 THE CRISIS
them, she glared unceasingly at the intruderSc s< Oh, de
good Lawd'll burn de wicked!"
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
niahoganjr 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 slowly up the
stairs*
CHAPTER V
THE AUCTION
u Stephen," said the Judge, in his abrupt way, " there
isn't a great deal doing. Let's go over to the Secesh prop
erty sales."
Stephen looked up in surprise. The seizures and in
tended sale of secession property had stirred up immense
bitterness and indignation in the city. There were Union-
ists (lukewarm) who denounced the measure as unjust
and brutal. The feelings of Southerners, avowed and
secret, may only be surmised. Rigid ostracism was to be
the price of bidding on any goods displayed, and men who
bought in handsome furniture on that day because it was
cheap have still, after forty years, cause to remember it.
It was not that Stephen feared ostracism. Anne Brins=
made was almost the only girl left to him from among his
former circle of acquaintances. Miss Carvel's conduct is
known. The Misses Russell showed him very plainly that
they disapproved of his politics. The hospitable days at
that house were over. Miss Catherwood, when they met
on the street, pretended not to see him, and Euge*nie
Renault gave him but a timid nod. The loyal families to
whose houses he now went were mostly Southerners, in,
sentiment against forced auctions.
However, he put on his coat, and sallied forth into the
sharp air, the Judge leaning on his arm. They walked
for some distance in silence.
" Stephen," said he, presently, " I guess I'll do a little
bidding."
Stephen did not reply. But he was astonished. He
wondered what Mr. Whipple wanted with fine furniture^
And, if he really wished to bid, Stephen knew likewise
that no consideration would stop him,
2 c 385
386 THE CRISIS
** Yotx don't approve of this proceeding, sir, I suppose,'
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 families. You should not be afraid
to bid, sir."
Stephen bit his lip. Sometimes Mr. Whipple made hinn
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 wantedc Now Fve 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 ! M 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
grim pleasure in eating his heart. And as for Stephen,
he 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 laughing 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 duty9 and ladies and
THE AUCTION 387
gentlemen whom the Judge and Stephen knew, and some
of whom they spoke to. All of these were come out of
curiosity, that they might see for themselves any who had
the temerity to bid on a neighbor's household goods. The
long hall, which ran from street to street, was packed, the
people surging backward and forward, and falling roughly
against the mahogany pieces ; and apologizing, and scold-
ing, and swearing all in a breath. The Judge, holding
tightly to Stephen, pushed his way fiercely to the stand,'
vowing over and over that the commotion was a secession
trick to spoil the furniture and stampede the sale. In
truth, it was at the Judge's suggestion that a blue provost's
guard was called in later to protect the seized property.
How many of those mahogany pieces, so ruthlessly tum-
bled about before the public eye, meant a heartache! Wed-
ding presents of long ago, dear to many a bride with silvered
hair, had been torn from the corner where the children had
played — children who now, alas, were grown and gone to
war. Yes, that was the Brussels rug that had lain before
the fire, and which the little feet had worn in the corner.
Those were the chairs the little hands had harnessed, four
in a row, and fallen on its side was the armchair — the
stage coach itself. There were the books, held up to com-
mon gaze, that a beloved parent had thumbed with affec-
tion. Yes, and here in another part of the hall were the
family horses and the family carriage that had gone so
often back and forth from church with the happy brood of
children, now scattered and gone to war.
As Stephen reached his place beside the Judge, Mr.
James's effects were being cried. And, if glances could
have killed, many a bidder would have dropped dead. The
heavy dining-room table which meant so much to the
family went for a song to a young man recently come
from Yankeeland, whose open boast it was — like Elipha-
let's secret one — that he would one day grow rich enough
to snap his fingers in the face of the Southern aristocrats*
Mr. James was not there. But Mr. Catherwood, his face
haggard and drawn, watched the sideboard he had given
his wife on her silver wedding being sold to a pawnbroker.
388 THE CRISIS
Stephen looked in vain for Colonel Carvel — for Virginia<
He did not want to see them there. He knew by heart
the list of things which had been taken from their 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
,with 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 Judge 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 somewheresc
What am I bid ? "
A menacing murmur gave place to the accusing silenceo
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
THE AUCTION
And this is how Judge Whipple braved public opinion
once more* As he stood there, defiant, many were the
conjectures as to what he could wish to do with the piano of
his old friend. Those who knew the Judge (and there
were few who did not) pictured to themselves the clingy
little apartment where he lived, and smiled. Whatever his
detractors might have said of him, no one was ever heard
to avow that he had bought or sold anything for gain*
A tremor ran through the people. Could it have been of
admiration for the fine old man who towered there glaring
defiance at those about him ? " Give me a strong and con-
sistent enemy," some great personage has said, "rather than
a lukewarm friend." Three score and five years the Judge
had lived, and now some were beginning to suspect that
he had a heart. Verily he had guarded his secret well.
But it was let out to many more that day, and they went
iiome praising him who had once pronounced his name
with bitterness.
This is what happened. Before he of the yellow mus-
tache could pick up his cigar from the floor and make
another bid, the Judge had cried out a sum which was the
total of Colonel Carvel's assessment* Many recall to
this day how fiercely he frowned when the applause broke
forth of itself ; and when he turned to go they made a path
for him, in admiration, the length of the hall, down which
he stalked, looking neither to the right nor left. Stephen
followed him, thankful for the day which had brought
him into the service of such a man.
And so it came about that the other articles were
returned to Colonel Carvel with the marshal's compli-
ments, and put back into the cold parlor where they had
stood for many years. The men who brought them offered
to put down the carpet, but by Virginia's orders the rolls
were stood up in the corner, and the floor left bare. And
days passed into weeks, and no sign or message came from
Judge Whipple in regard to the piano he had bought,
Virginia did not dare mention it to the Colonel.
Where was it? It had been carried by six sweating
negroes up the narrow stairs into the Judge s office. Stephen
390 THE CRISIS
and Shadrach had by Mr. Whipple's orders cleared a cornei
of his inner office 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 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
Mr. Brinsmade heard of his promotion and this exploit, and
yet 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 Sanitary Commission too, and so strove to make up
in zeal for the service in the field which he longed to give,
After Christmas Mr. and Mrs. Brinsmade moved out
to their place on the Bellefontaine Road. This was tc
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. Brinsmacle's, when the
day's duty was done, the young Union officers used to
ride, 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 city as their interests and sympathies per-
laaitted to waltz with a Union officer., and there would bs
THE AUCTION 393
a little danceo To these dances Stephen Brice was usu
ally invited.
One such occasion occurred on a Friday in January-,
and Mr. Brinsmade himself called in his buggy and drove
Stephen to the country early in the afternoon. He and
Anne went for a walk al^ng the river, the surface of which
was broken by lumps of yellow ice. Gray clouds hung
low in the sky as they picked their way over the frozen
furrows of the ploughed fields. The grass was all a
yellow-brown, but the north wind which swayed the bare
trees brought a touch of color to Anne's cheeks. Before
they realized where they were, they had nearly crossed the
Bellegarde estate, and the house itself was come into view,
standing high on the slope above the withered garden,.
They halted.
"The shutters are up," said Stephen. "I understood
that Mrs. Colfax had come out here not long agj."
" She came out for a day just before Christmas," said
Anne, smiling, "and then she ran off to Kentucky. I
think she was afraid that she was one of the two women
on the list of Sixty."
"It must have been a blow to her pride when she
found that she was not," said Stephen, who had a keen
remembrance of her conduct upon a certain Sunday not
a year gone.
Impelled by the same inclination, they walked in silence
to the house and sat down on the edge of the porch. The
only motion in the view was the smoke from the slave
quarters twisting in the wind, and the hurrying ice in the
stream.
" Poor Jinny ! " said Anne, with a sigh, " how she loved
to romp ! What good times we used to have here together ! "
" Do you think that she is unhappy ? " Stephen de-
manded, involuntarily.
"Oh, yes," said Anne. "How can you ask? But you
could not make her show it. The other morning when
she came out to our house I found her sitting at the pianoc
I am sure there were tears in her eyes, but she would net
let me see them. She made seme joke about Spencei
B92 THE CRISIS
Oatherwood running away. What do you think th&
Judge will do with that piano, Stephen?"
He shook his head.
" The day after they put it in his room he came 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 go 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
witn glow on her face which was neither sadness nor
mirtn, - 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
recalled 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.
THE AUCTION 393
"The boy doesn't remember me," said the gentleman
in quick tones, smiling at Mr. Brinsmade.
" Yes, sir, I do," Stephen made haste to answer. He
glanced at the star on the shoulder strap, and said ; " You
are General Sherman."
" First rate ! " laughed the General, patting him
« First rate ! "
"Now in command at Camp Benton, Stephen," Mrc
Brinsmade put in. " Won't you sit down, General ? "
"No," 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 ! Guess you heard I was crazy," said the
General, in his downright way.
Stephen was struck dumb.
" He's been reading the lies in the newspapers too;
Brinsmade," the General went on rapidly. " I'll make
'em eat their newspapers for saying I was crazy. That's
the Secretary of War's doings. Ever tell you what
Cameron did, Brinsmade? He 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. I told him. J got a map. I said, 'Now, Mr
Secretary, here is the whole Union line from the Potomac
to Kansas. Here's McClellan in the East with one bun
jdred 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 thousando
You give us fellows with over three hundred miles only
eighteen thousand.' 'How many do you want?' says
Cameron, still on the bed. * Tivo hundred thousand before
we get through,' said I. Cameron pitched up his hands
in the air. ( Great God ! y says he, £ where are they tc
394 THE CEISIS
come from ? ' 6 The northwest is chuck full of regiments
you fellows 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 ! he goes back to
Washington and gives it out that I'm craz}^, and want
'two hundred thousand men in Kentucky. Then I am or-
dered to report to Halleck in 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 them.
Mr. Brinsmade smiled. " They have to print something,
General," he said.
" 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 Apple ton laugh.
4 You don't think Fre*mont'll see yew, 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, 4 not
one man in a hundred, reaches his chief-of-staff? 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 Calif ornians, and by gad — -old
Baron Steinberger with his nose hanging over the registero,?
THE AUCTION 395
u Fremont was a little difficult to get at, General," said
Mr. Brinsmade. " Things were confused and discouraged
when those first contracts were awarded. Fremont was a
good man, and it wasn't his fault that the inexperience of
his quartermasters permitted some of those men to get
rich."
"No," said the General. "His fault! Certainly not.
Good man ! To be sure he was — didn't get along with
Blair. These court-martials you're having here now have
stirred up the whole country. I guess we'll hear now
how those fortunes were made. To listen to those wit-
nesses lie about each other on the stand is better than the
theatre."
Stephen laughed at the comical and vivid 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 mustache 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
having 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
say.
" 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 go
to the front yet a while, young man. We need the best
we have in reserve." He glanced critically at Stephen,
" You've had military training of some sort ? "
" He's a captain in the Halleck Guards, sir," said Mr,
Brinsmade, generously, "and the best drillmaster we've
had in this city. He's seen service, too, General."
Stephen reddened furiously and started to protest, when
the General cried : —
" It's more than I have in this war. Come, come, I knew
me THE CRISIS
he was a soldier. Let's see what kind of a strategist he9!!
make. Brinsmade, have you got such a thing as a map ?
Mr. Brinsmade had, and led the way back into the
library. The General shut the door, lighted a cigar with
a single vigorous stroke of a match, and began to smoke
with quick puffs. Stephen was puzzled how to receive
the confidences the General was giving out with such
freedom.
When the map was laid on the table, the General drew
a pencil from his pocket and pointed to the 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
centre.
" Good ! " said the General. " Very good ? " 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 Halleck asked me the other day, and
that's how I answered it. Now, gentlemen, there's a man
named Grant down in that part of the country. Keep
your eyes on him. Ever heard of him, Brinsmade? He
used to live here once, and a year ago he was less than I
was. Now he's a general."
The recollection 01 the scene in the street by the Arsenal
that May morning not a year gone came to Stephen with
a shock.
" I saw him," he cried ; " he was Captain Grant that
lived on the Gravois Road. But surely this can't be the
same man who seized Paducah and was in that affair at
Belmont."
" By gum ! " said the General, laughing. " Don't worn
der you're surprised. Grant has stuff in him. They
kicked him around Springfield awhile, after the war
broke out, for a military carpet-bagger. Then they gave
liir for a regiment the worst lot of ruffians you ever
laid eyes on. He fixed 'em. He made 'em walk the
plank. He made 'em march halfway across the state
THE AUCTION m
instead of taking the cars the Governor offered, Bel
mont? I guess he is the man that chased the Rebs out
of Belmont. Then his boys broke loose when they got
into the town. That wasn't Grant's fault. The Kebs
came back and chased 'em out into their boats on the
river, Brinsmade, you remember hearing about that»
Grant did the coolest thing you ever saw. He sat on his
feorse at the top of the bluff while the boys fell over each
other trying to get on the boat. Yes, sir, he sat there,
disgusted, on his horse, smoking a cigar, with the Rebs
raising pandemonium all around him. And then, sir,"
cried the General, excitedly, " what do you think he did ?
Hanged if he didn't force his horse right on to his
haunches, slide down the whole length of the bank and
ride him across a teetering plank on to the steamer. And
the Rebs just stood on the bank and stared. They were
so astonished they didn't even shoot the man. You watch
Grant," said the General. "And now, Stephen," he
added, "just you run off and take hold of the prettiest
girl you can find. If any of my boys object, say I sent
you."
The next Monday Stephen had a caller. It was little
Tiefel, now a first lieutenant with a bristly beard and tanned
face, come to town on a few days' furlough. He had been
with Lyon at Wilson's Creek, and he had a sad story to
tell of how he found poor Richter, lying stark on that
bloody field, with a smile of peace upon his face. Strange
that he should at length have been killed by a sabre !
i It was a sad meeting for those two, since each reminded
'the other of a dear friend they would see no more on earth.
They went out to sup together in the German style ; and
gradually, over his beer, Tiefel forgot his sorrow. Stephen
listened with an ache to the little man's tales of the cam-
paigns he had been through. So that presently Tiefel
cried out : —
" Why, my friend, you are melancholy as an owl. I will
tell you a funny story. Did you ever hear of one General
Sherman? He that they say is crazy?"
" He is no more crazy than I am," said Stephen, warmly!
898 THE CRISIS
66 Is he not ? w answered Tiefel, " then I will show you a
mistake. You recall last November he was out to Sedalia
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 Osterville, and Steele here
at Sedalia with his regiments all over the place. They must
both go 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!" 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
praiseso Moving with great swiftness and secrecy up the
Tennessee, in company with the gunboats of Commodore
Foote, he had pierced the Confederate line at the very
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 and
wet — = characteristic of that winter — as Stephen pushed
through the drays on the slippery levee to the landing*
He had with him a basket Ms mother had put up. H@
THE AUCTION 399
also bore a message to Mr. Brinsmade from the Judge,
Vj was while he was picking his way along the crowded
decks that he ran into General Sherman. The General
seized him unceremoniously by the shoulder,
" Good-by, Stephen," he said.
" Good-by, General," said Stephen, shifting his basket to
shake hands. " Are you going away ? "
"Ordered to Paducah," said the General. He pulled
Stephen off the guards into an empty cabin. " Brice?"
said he, earnestly, "I haven't forgotten how you saved
young Brinsmade at Camp Jackson. They tell me that
you are useful here. I say, don't go in unless you hav®
to. I don't mean force, you understand. But when, you
feel that you can go in, come to me or write me a letter
That is," he added, seemingly inspecting Stephen's whit©
teeth with approbation, " if you're not afraid to serve undes
a crazy man."
It has been said that the General liked the lack of effu-
siveness of Stephen's reply.
CHAPTER YI
KLXPHALET PLAYS HIS TKUMFg
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 with which he
had filled themo Great battles had been fought, azd vast
armies were drawing breath for greater ones to come*
" Jinny," said the Colonel one day, "as we donvt seem
to be much use in town, I reckon we may as well go to
Glencoe."
Virginia threw her arms around her father's neckc For
many months she had seen what the Colonel himself was
glow to comprehend — that his usefulness was gone9 The
days melted into weeks, and Sterling Price and his army
of liberation failed to come. The vigilant Union general
and his aides had long since closed all avenues to the
South. 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
officer's signature. The Colonel also procured one of
these, and fell into lincc The Marshal gazed at the crowd,
pulled off his coat, and readily put his name to the passes
of several gentlemen going east. Next came Mr. Bub
Ballington, whom the Colonel knew, but pretended not to,
Ci Going to Springfield ? " asked the Marshal, genially.,
" Yes," said Bub<
&t Not very profitable to be a minute-man, ekVf m the
same tone.
The Marshal signs his name^ Mrc Ballington trying
400
ELIPHALET PLAYS HIS TRUMPS m
not to look indignant as lie makes for the door, A small
silver bell rings on the Marshal's desk, the one word,
<l- Spot ! " breaks the intense silence, which is one way
of saying that Mr. Ballington is detained, and will prob-
ably be lodged that night at Government expense
66 Well, Colonel Carvel, what can I do for you this
morning ? " asked the Marshal, genially.
The Colonel pushed back his hat and wiped his brew.
" I reckon I'll wait till next week, Captain," said Mr,
CarveL "It's pretty hot to travel just now,"
The Provost Marshal smiled sweetly0 There were
many in the office who would have liked to laugh, but
it did not pay to laugh at some people. Colonel Carvel
was one of them.
In the proclamation of martial law was much to make
life less endurable than ever. All who were convicted
by a court-martial of being rebels were to have property
confiscated, and slaves set free. Then there was a certain
oath to be taken by all citizens who did not wish to have
guardians appointed over their actions. There were many
who swallowed this oath and never felt any ill effects
Mrc Jacob Cluyme was one, and came away feeling very
virtuous. It was not unusual for Mr* Cluyme to feel
virtuouso Mr, Hopper did not have indigestion after
taking it, but Colonel Carvel would sooner have eaten
gooseberry pie, which he had never tasted but once,
That summer had worn away, like a monster which turns
and gives hot gasps when you think it has expired= It
took the Arkansan just a month, under Virginia's care,
to become well enough to be sent to a Northern prison
'He was not precisely a Southern gentleman, and he went to
sleep over the ** Idylls of the King." But he was admiring,
and grateful, and wept when he went off to the boat with
the provost's guard, destined for a Northern pi;som Vir=
ginia wept too. He had taken her away from her aunx
(who would have nothing to do with him), and had given
her occupation. She nor her father never tired of hearing
his rough tales of Price's rough armyc
His departure was about the time when suspicions wer^
2d
£02 THE CRISIS
growing 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 mysterious gentlemen who had been seen in the
vicinity of Colonel Carvel's house was arrested on the
ferry, but he had contrived to be rid of the carpet-sack
in 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
did 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 man}' 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-
ground to attain an end. The worst she could think of
Mm was that he wished to ingratiate himself now, in the
ELIPHALET PLAYS HIS TRUMPS 403
hope that, when the war was ended, he might become a
partner in Mr. Carvel's business. She had put even this
away as unworthy of her.
Once she had felt compelled to speak to ber father on
the subject,
u I believe I did him an injustice, Pa," she said. * Not
that I like him any better nowc I must be honest about
that I simply can't like him. But I do think that if he
had been as unscrupulous as I thought, he would have
deserted you long ago for something more profitable. He
would not be sitting in the office day after day making
plans for the business when the war is over,"
She remembered how sadly he had smiled at her over
the top of his paper,
" You are a good girl. Jinny," he said,
Toward the end of July of that second summer riots
broke out in the city, and simultaneously a bright spot
appeared on Virginia's horizon. This took the form, for
Northerners, of a guerilla scare, and an order was promptly
issued for the enrollment of all the able-bodied men in the
ten wards as militia, subject to service in the state, to
exterminate the roving bands. Whereupon her Britannic
Majesty became extremely popular, — even with some who
claimed for a birthplace the Emerald Isle. Hundreds who
heretofore had valued but lightly their British citizenship
made haste to renew their allegiance ; and many sought
the ofSce of the English Consul whose claims on her
Majesty's protection were vague, to say the least- Broken
heads and scandal followed, For the first time, when
Virginia walked to the store with her father, Eliphalet
was not there-: It was strange indeed that Virginia
defended him,
fA I don't blame him for not wanting to fight for the
Yankees," she said.
The Colonel could net resist a retort.
M Then why doesn't he fight for the South ? n he asked,
« Fight for the South ! cried the young lady, scorn-
fully c ** Mr, Hopper fight ? I reckon the South wouldrt
have hiiru"
004 THE CRISIS
" I reckon not, too," said the Colonel, dryly.
For the following week curiosity prompted Virginia to
^take that walk with the Colonel. Mr. Hopper being still
dbsent, 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. Virginia would not disturb him.
Meanwhile there had been inquiries for Mr. Hopper,
The Colonel answered them all truthfully — generally
with that dangerous suavity for which he was noted.
Twice a seedy man with a gnawed yellow mustache had
come in to ask Eliphalet's whereabouts. On the second
occasion this individual became importunate*
M You don't know nothin' about him, you say ? n he
demanded.
" No," said the Colonel.
The man took a shuffle forward«
" My name's Ford," he saido " I 'low I kin lighten you
a little."
" Good day, sir," said the Colonel.
" I guess you'll like to hear what I've got to say."
" Ephura," said Mr. Carvel in his natural voice, " show
this man out."
Mr. Ford slunk out without Ephum's assistance* But
he half turned at the door, and shot back a look that
frightened Virginia.
44 Oh, Pa," she cried, in alarm, " what did he mean ? ?'
" I couldn't tell you, Jinny," he answered. But she
noticed that he was very thoughtful as they walked homeo!
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, Unrolling Officer,
ELIPHALET PLAYS HIS TKUMPS 40§
That very afternoon they moved to Glencoe, and Ephum
was left in sole charge of the store. At Glencoe, far from
the hot city and the cruel war, began a routine of peace,
Virginia was a child again, romping in the woods and
fields beside her father. The color came back to her
cheeks once more, and the laughter into her voice. The
two of them, and Ned and Mammy, spent a rollicking hour
in the pasture the freedom of which Dick had known so
long, before the old horse was caught and brought back into
bondage* After that Virginia took long drives with her
father, and coming home, they would sit in the summer
house high above the Merimec, listening to the crickets'
chirp, and watching the day fade upon the water, The
Colonel, who had always detested pipes, learned to smoke
a corncob, He would sit by the hour, with his feet on the
rail of the porch and his hat tilted back, while Virginia
read to him, Poe and Wordsworth and Scott he liked,
but Tennyson was his favorite. Such happiness could
oot last*
One afternoon when Virginia was sitting in the summer
house alone, her thoughts wandering back, as they some-
times did, to another afternoon she had spent there,—
it seemed so long ago, — -when she saw Mammy Easter
coming toward her.
" Honey, dey's company up to de house Mister Hop=
per's done arrived. He's on de po'ch, talkin' to your
Pa3 Lawsey, look wha he come ! "
In truth, the solid figure of Eliphalet himself was on the
path some twenty yards behind her. His hat was in his
hand ; his hair was plastered down more neatly than ever,
and his coat was a faultless and sober creation of a Franklin
Avenue tailor. He carried a cane, which was unheard of,
Virginia sat upright, and patted her skirts with a ges-
ture of annoyance — what she felt was anger, resentment,
Suddenly she rose, swept past Mammy, and met him ten
paces from the summer house.
aHow-dy-do, Miss Virginia," he cried pleasantly,
a Your father had a notion you might be here," He said
fayther*
406 THE CRISIS
Virginia gave him her hand limply, Her greeting
would have frozen a man of ardent temperament. But it
was not precisely ardor that Eliphalet showed. The girl
paused and examined him swiftly. There was something
in the man's air to-day.
" So you were not caught ? v she said.
Her words seemed to relieve some tension in hintc He
laughed noiselessly.
"I just guess I wahn't,"
"How did you escape?" she asked, looking at him
curiously.
" Well, I did, 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 care to know. The place might save you,
again." . J
He showed his disappointment. " I cal lated it might!
interest you to know how I dodged the Sovereign State)
of Missouri. General Halleck made an order that released
a man from enrolling 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 life, and
liberty, and the pursuit of happiness."
" So you bought yourself free ? " said Virginia. " If youi
substitute gets killed, I suppose you will have cause ioi
congratulation." ,
Eliphalet laughed, and pulled down his culls. lnat I
his lookout, I cal'iate," said he. He glanced at the girj
in a way that made her vaguely uneasy. She turnej
from him, back toward the summer house6 Eliphalet d
eyes smouldered as they rested upon her figure* He tooH
a step forward.
" Miss Jinny ? " he said,
"Yes?" J
"I've heard considerable about the beauties of this
place. Would you mind showing me 'round a bit n
Virginia 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 impolite to a ^-uest
ELIPHALET PLAYS HIS TRUMPS 40?
. « Cert&inly not," she replied, but without looking up0
Eliphalet led the way. He came to the summer house,
glanced around it with apparent satisfaction, and put his
! loot on the moss-grown step. Virginia did a surprising
thing. She leaped quickly into the doorway before him,
and stood facing him, framed in the climbing roses.
** Oh, Mr. Hopper ! n she cried. " Please, not in here."
He drew back, staring in astonishment at the crimson
in her face.
M Why not ? " he asked suspiciously — almost brutally.
She had been groping wildly for excuses, and found
moneo
M Because," she said, " because I ask you not to." With
dignity : "That should be sufficient.""
"Well," replied Eliphalet, with an abortive laugh,
r that's funny, now. Womenkind get queer notions, which
I cal'late we've got to respect and put up with all our lives
— eh?"
Her anger flared at his leer and at his broad way of
gratifying her whim, And she was more incensed than
ever at his air of being at home ■ — it was nothing less,
The man's whole manner was an insult. She strode still
to hide her resentment.
"There is a walk along the bluff," she said, coldly,
'where the view is just as good."
But she purposely drew him into the right-hand path,
which led, after a little, back to the house, Despite her
pace he pressed forward to her side.
" Miss Jinny," said he, precipitately, ** did I ever strike
you as a marrying man ? "
Virginia stopped, and put her handkerchief to her face,
;he impulse strong upon her to laugh. Eliphalet was
suddenly transformed again into the common commercial
Yankee. He was in love, and had come to ask her advice,
Uhe might have known it.
44 1 never thought of you as of the marrying kind, Mr,
Stopper," she answered, her voice quivering,
Indeed, he was irresistibly funny as he stood hot and
1 at ease. The Sunday coat bore witness to his increas
408 THE CKISIS
Ing portliness by creasing across from the buttons » hfa
face, fleshy and perspiring, showed purple veins, and the
little eyes receded comically, like a pig's.
" Well, I've been thinking serious of late about getting
married," he continued, slashing the rose bushes with his
stick. " I don't cal'late to be a sentimental critter. I'm
not much on high-sounding phrases, and such things, but
I'd give you my word I'd make a good husband."
" Please be careful of those roses, Mr. Hopper."
" Beg pardon," said Eliphalet. He began to lose track
of his tenses — - that was the only sign he gave of perturba-
tion. " When I come to St. Louis without a cent, Miss
Jinny, 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 promise. I'm!
not thirty-four, and I cal'late I've got as much money in a
safe place as a good many men you call rich. I'm notj
saying what IVe got, mind you. All in proper time.!
I'm a pretty steady kind. I've stopped chewing — there
was a time when I done that. And I don't drink nor
smoke."
" That is all very commendable, Mr. Hopper," Virginia
said, stifling a rebellious titter. " But, — but why did
you give up chewing ? "
" I am informed that the ladies are against it," said
Eliphalet, — u dead against it. You wouldn't like it in a
husband, now, would you ? "
This time the laugh was not to be put down.
" I confess I shouldn't," she said.
"Thought so," he replied, as one versed. His tonei
took on a nasal twang. " Well, as I was saying, Fv|
about got ready to settle down, and I've had my eye od|
the lady this seven years."
" Marvel of constancy ! " said Virginia. " And th$
lady?"
"The lady," said Eliphalet, bluntly, "is you" H<
glanced at her bewildered face and went on rapidly: " Yoi
pleased me the first day I set eyes on you in the store
I said to myself, fc Hop er, there's the one for you t
marry/ I'm plain, but y folks was good peopleo I s«
ELIPHALET PLAYS HIS TKUMPS 4ft)
to work right then to make a fortune for you, Miss Jinny.
You've just what I need. I'm a plain business man with
no frills. You'll do the frills. You're the kind that was
raised in the lap of luxury. Youll need a man with a
fortune, and a big one ; you're the sort to show it off,
I've got the foundations of that fortune, and the proof of
it right here. And I tell you," — his jaw was set, — "I tell
you that some day Eliphalet Hopper will be one of the
richest men in the West."
He had stopped, facing her in the middle of the way,
his voice strong, his confidence supreme. At first she
had stared at him in dumb wonder. Then, as she began
to grasp the meaning of his harangue, astonishment was
still dominant, — sheer astonishment. She scarcely lis-
tened. But, as he finished, the thatch of the summer
house caught her eye. A vision arose of a man beside
whom Eliphalet was not worthy to crawl. She thought
of Stephen as he had stood that evening in the sunset,
and this proposal seemed a degradation. This brute
dared to tempt her with money. Scalding words rose
to her lips. But she caught the look on Eliphalet's face,
and she knew that he would not understand. This was
one who rose and fell, who lived and loved and hated and
died and was buried by — money.
For a second she looked into his face as one who escapes
a pit gazes over the precipice, and shuddered. As for
Eliphalet, let it not be- thought that he had no passion.
This was the moment for which he had lived since the
day he had first seen her and been scorned in the store.
That type of face, that air, — these were the priceless
things he would buy with his money, Crazed with the
very violence of his long-pent desire, he seized her hand
She wrung it free again.
" How — how dare you ! w she cried.
He staggered back, and stood for a moment motionless,
as though stunned. Then, slowly, a light crept into his
little eyes which haunted her for many a dayc
M You — won't — marry me ? " he said.
64 Oh, how dare you ask me I s* exclaimed Virginia, her
4K THE CRISIS
face burning with the shame of it. She was standing
with her hands behind her, her back against a great
walnut trunk, the crusted branches of which 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."
"OhI" she cried, "can't you understand? If yon
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," he said ; " the wheels have been a-turning
lately. You're poor, but I guess you don't know how
poor you are, — eh ? The 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, / 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 and deep.
"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
shings he expected. She said, simply : —
** Will you please follow me, Mr. Hopper ? "
And he followed her, — his shrewdness gone, for once,
ELIPHALET PLAYS HIS TBUMPS 411
Save for the rise and fall of her shoulders she seemed
calm. The path wound through a jungle of waving sun-
flowers and led into the shade in front of the house.
There was the Colonel sitting on the porch. His pipe
lay with its scattered ashes on the boards, and his head
was bent forward, as though listening. When he saw
the two, he rose expectantly, and went forward to meet
-them. Virginia stopped before him.
"Pa," she said, "is it true that you have borrowed
money from this man ? "
Eliphalet had seen Mr. Carvel angry once, and his soul
had quivered. Terror, abject terror, seized him now, so
that his knees smote together. As well stare into the
sun as into the Colonel's face. In one stride he had a
hand in the collar of Eliphaiet's new coat, the other
pointing down the path.
" It takes just a minute to walk to that fence, sir," he
said sternly. " If you are any longer about it, I reckon
you'll never get past it. You're a cowardly hound, sir I "
Mr. Hopper's gait down the flagstones was an invention
of his own. It was neither a walk, nor a trot, nor a run,
but a sort of sliding amble, such as is executed in night-
mares. Singing in his head was the famous example of
the eviction of Babcock from the store, — the only time
that the Colonel's bullet had gone wide. And down in
the small of his back Eliphalet listened for the crack of
a pistol, and feared that a clean hole might be bored
there any minute. Once outside, he took to the white
road, leaving a trail of dust behind him that a wagon
might have raised. Fear lent him wings, but neglected
to lift his feet.
The Colonel passed his arm around his daughter, and
pulled his goatee thoughtfully. And Virginia, glancing
shyly upward, saw a smile in the creases about his mouth
She smiled, too, and then the tears hid him from her.
Strange that the face which in anger withered cowardg
and made men look grave, was capable of such infinite
tenderness,— tenderness and sorrow. The Colonel took
rm THE CRISIS
Yirginia in his amis, and she sobbed against his shoulder
%s of old
"Jinny, did he— fn
"Yes-^-"
" Lige was right, and — and you, Jinny — I should
sever have trusted him^ The sneak ! "
Virginia raised her head. The sun was slanting in
yellow bars through the branches of the great trees, and
a robin's note rose above the bass chorus of the frogs*
In the pauses, as she listened, it seemed as if she could
hear the silver sound of the river over the pebbles far
below*
" Honey,'* said the Colonel, "I reckon we're just as
poor as white trash.'2
Virginia smiled through her tears.
H Honey,'* he said again, after a pause. ^1 must keep
my word and let him have the business."
She did not reproach himc.
<fc There is a little left, a very little," he continued
slowly, painfully e " I thank God that it is yours. It was
left you by Becky — by your mother. It is in a railroad
company in New York, and safe, Jinny."
" Oh, Pa^ you know that I do not care,5' she cried, " It
shall be yours and mine together. And we shall live out
here and be happy."
But she glanced anxiously at him nevertheless. He
was in his familiar 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 her hand to her breast.
« Virginia," he said, " I fought for my country once, and
I reckon Fra 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 regi-
ment — Jinny, I have to go."
Virginia said nothing. It was in her blood as well as
Ms. The Colonel had left his young wife, to fight in
Mexico \ he had come home to lay flowers on her gravec She
knew that he thought of this ; and, too, that his heart war
ELIPHALET PLAYS HIS TRUMPS 413
*«nt at leaving her. She put her hands on his shoulders,
and he stooped to kiss her trembling lips.
They walked out together to the summer-house, and
stood watching the glory of the light on the western hills,
" Jinny," said the Colonel, " I reckon you will have to
go to your Aunt Lillian. It — it will be hard. But I
know that my girl can take care of herself. In case — in
case I Jo not come back, or occasion should arise, find
Lige. Lst him take you to your Uncle Daniel. He is
fond of you, and will be all alone in Calvert House when
the war is jver. And I reckon that is all I have to say0
I won't pry Into your heart, honey. If you love Clarence*
marry him. I like the boy, and I believe he will quiet
down into a ^ood man."
Virginia dH not answer, but reached out for her father's
hand and held vis fingers locked tight in her own. From
the kitchen the &ound of Ned's voice rose in the still even-
ing airt
6i Sposin' I wa„ fo go to N" Orleans an' take sick and die,
Laik a bird inio de country ma spirit would fly."
And after a while *iown the path the red and yellow oi
Mammy Easter's bandana was seen.
"Supper, Miss Jinny, Lawsy, if I ain5t ramshacked de
premises fo' you bof. L»e co'n bread's gittin' cold.'*
That evening the Co'Wel and Virginia thrust a few
things into her little leather bag they had chosen together
in London. Virginia had *ound a cigar, which she hid
until they went down to tho» porch, and there she gave it
to him 5 when he lighted tht* natch she saw that his hand
shook.
Half an hour later he held Aer in his arms at the gate^
and she heard his firm tread d^ in the dust of the road,
The South had claimed him at <ist»
CHAPTER VII
WITH THE ARMIES OF THE WESX
Wb are at Memphis, — for a while, — and the Cnrisfr
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 fellowship. 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
officially 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-
wise 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
Socked thither with permits to trade in cotton*, The
414
WITH THE ARMIES OF THE WEST 418
speculators gave the Confederates gold, which they needed
inost^ for the bales, which they could not use at alL
The forefathers of some of these gentlemen were in old
Egypt under Pharaoh — for whom they could have had
no greater respect and fear than their descendants had in
New Egypt for Grant or Sherman. Yankees were there
likewise in abundance, And a certain acquaintance of
ours materially added to his fortune by selling in Boston
the cotton which cost him fourteen cents, at thirty cents.
One day the shouting and the swearing and the run=
ning to and fro came to a climax. Those floating freaks
which were all top and drew nothing, were loaded down
to the guards with army stores and animals and wood
and men, — men who came from every walk in tife*
Whistles bellowed, horses neighed. The gunboats chased
hither and thither, and at length the vast processions
paddled down the stream with naval precision, under the
watchful eyes of a real admiral.
Residents of Memphis from the river's bank watched
the pillar of smoke fade to the southward and ruminated
on the fate of Vicksburg, The General paced the deck
in thought, A little later he wrote to the Commander-
in-Chief at Washington, "The valley of the Mississippi
is America.5'
Vicksburg taken, this vast Confederacy would be
chopped in two.
Night fell to the music of the paddles, to the scent of
the officers'' cigars, to the blood-red vomit of the tall
stacks and the smoky flame of the torches. Then Christ^
mas Day dawned, and there was Vicksburg lifted two
hundred feet above the fever swamps, her court-house
shining in the morning sun, Vicksburg, the weli-nigb
impregnable key to America's highway. When old Vick
made his plantation on the Walnut Hills, he chose a site
for a fortress of the future Confederacy that Vauban
would have delighted in,
Yes, there were the Walnut Hills, high bluffs separated
from the Mississippi by tangled streams and bayous, and
en their crests the Parrotts scowledc It was a quee2
&16 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 great army was landed. It spread out
by brigade and division and regiment and company, the
men splashing and paddling through the Chickasaw and
the swamps toward the bluffs. The Parrotts began to
roar* A certain regiment, boldly led, crossed the bayoi;
at a narrow place and swept resistless across the sodden
fields to where the bank was steepest. The fire from the
battery scorched the hair of their heads. But there they
stayed, 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 their wounded from
the stagnant waters. But many were left to die in
agony in the solitude.
Like a tall emblem of energy, General Sherman stood
watching the attack and repulse, his eyes ever alert. He
paid 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.
u What regiment stayed under the bank ? "
" Sixth Missouri, General," said an aide, promptly.
The General sat late in the Admiral's gunboat that
night, but when he returned to his cabin in the Forest
Queen, 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,
M Did the boys get back ? n he asked,
"Yes, General, when it fell dark."
4 Let me see the casualties, — quick, n
WITH THE ARMIES OF THE WEST 41T
That night a fog rolled up from the swamps, and in the
morning jack-staff was hid from pilot-house. Before the
attack could be renewed, a political general came down
the river with a letter in his pocket from Washington, by
virtue of which he took possession of the three army corps
and their chief, subpoenaed the fleet and the Admiral, and
went off to capture Arkansas Post.
Vicksburg had a breathing spell.
Three weeks later, when the army was resting at Napo-
leon, Arkansas, a self-contained man, with a brown beard,
arrived from Memphis, and took command. This was
General XL S. Grant. He smoked incessantly in his
cabin. He listened. He spoke but seldom. He had a
look in his face that boded ill to any that might oppose
him. Time and labor he counted as nothing, compared
with the accomplishment of an object. Back to Vicks-
burg paddled the fleet and transports. Across the river
from the city, on the pasty mud behind the levee's bank,
were dumped Sherman's regiments, condemned to weeks
of ditch-digging, that the gunboats might arrive at the
bend of the Mississippi below by a canal, out of reach of
the batteries. Day in and day out they labored, officer*
and men. Sawing off stumps under the water, knocking
poisonous snakes by scores from the branches, while the
river rose and rose and rose, and the rain crept by inches
under their tent flies, and the enemy walked the parapets
of Vicksburg and laughed. Two gunboats accomplished
the feat of running the batteries, that their smiles might
be sobered.
To the young officers who were soiling their uniforms
with the grease of saws, whose only fighting was against
fever and water snakes, the news of an expedition into
the Vicksburg side of the river was hailed with caps in
the air. To be sure, the saw and axe, and likewise the
levee and the snakes, were to be there, too. But there was
likely to be a little fighting. The rest of the corps that
was to stay watched grimly as the detachment put off in
the little Diligence and Silver Wave.
All the night the smoke-pipes were batting against the
2b
418 THE CRISIS
boughs of oak and cottonwood, and snapping the trailing
vines. Some other regiments wont by another route .
The ironclads, followed in hot haste by General Sherman
in a navy tug, had gone ahead, and were even then shov-
ing with their noses great trunks of trees in their eager-
ness to get behind the Rebels. The Missouri regiment
spread out along the waters, and were scon waist deep,
hewing a path for the heavier transports 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
detachments All through the Friday the navy great
guns were heard booming in the distance, growing quicker
and quicker, until the quivering air shook the hanging
things in 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 corn 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, bedraggled, and muddy,
stood in the candle light under the charge of a young
lieutenant. The officer saluted, and handed the General
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 staff officer who had jumped from
his bed and was hurrying into his coat.
" Porter's surrounded," he said. The order came ir a
flash. « Kilby Smith and all men here across creek to
relief at oncec I'll take canoe through bayou to Hill's
and hurry reinforcements.'5
The staff officer paused, his hand on the latch of the
iooic
<S
WITH THE AEMIES OF THE WEST 419
" But your escort, General. You're not going through
that sewer in a canoe without an escort I "
" I guess they won't look for a needle in that haystack,"
the General answered. For a brief second he eyed the
lieutenant. " Get back to your regiment, Brice, if you
want to go," he said.
Stephen saluted and went out. All through the pain-
ful march that followed, though soaked in swamp water
and bruised by cypress knees, he thought of Sherman in
his canoe, winding unprotected through the black laby-
rinth, risking his life that more men might be brought to
the rescue of the gunboats.
The story of that rescue has been told most graphically
by Sherman himself. How he picked up the men at work
on the bayou and marched them on a coal barge \ how he
hitched the barge to a navy tug ; how he met the little
transport with a fresh load of troops, and Captain Elijah
Brent's reply when the General asked if he would follow
him. "As long as the boat holds together, General."
And he kept his word. The boughs hammered at the
smoKe-pipes until they went by the board, and the pilot-
house fell like a pack of cards on the deck before they
had gone three miles and a half. Then the indomitable
Sherman disembarked, a lighted candle in his hand, and
led a stiff march through thicket and swamp and breast-
deep backwater, where the little drummer boys carried
their drums on their heads. At length, when "they were
come to some Indian mounds, they found a picket of three
companies of the force which had reached the flat the day
before, and had been sent down to prevent the enemy
from obstructing further the stream below the fleet.
"The Admiral's in a bad way, sir," said the Colonel
who rode up to meet the General. "He's landlocked.
Those clumsy ironclads of his can't move backward or
forward, and the Rebs have been peppering him for two
days."
Just then a fusillade broke from the thickets, nipping
the branches from the cottonwoods about them*
'• Form your line," said the General. "Drive *em out,M
m THE CEISIS
The force swept forward, with the three picket com.
panies in the swamp on the right. And presently theji
came in sight of the shapeless ironclads with their fun-
nels belching smoke, a most remarkable spectacle. How
Porter had pushed them there was one of the miracles of
the war*
Then followed one of a thousand memorable incidents in
the life of a memorable man. General Sherman, jumping
on the bare back of a scrawny horse, cantered through the
fields. And the bluejackets, at sight of that familiar fig-
ure, roared out a cheer that might have shaken the drops
from the wet boughs. The Admiral and the General stood
together on the deck, their hands clasped. And the Colonel
astutely remarked, as he rode up in answer to a summons,
that if Porter was the only man whose daring could have
pushed a fleet to that position, Sherman was certainly the
only man who could have got him out of it.
" Colonel," said the General, " chat move was well exe=
cuted, sir Admiral, did the Rebs put a bullet through
your rum casks ? We're just a little tired. And now,9'
he added, wheeling on the Colonel when each had a
glass in his hand, " who was in command of that company
on the right, in the swamp ? He handled them like a?
regular."
to He's a second lieutenant, General, in the Sixth Mis-
souri. Captain wounded at Hindman, and first lieutenant
fell out down below. His name is Brice, I believe."
" I thought so," said the General.
Some few days afterward, when the troops were slop*
ping around again at Young's Point, opposite Vicksburg, a
gentleman arrived on a boat from St. Louis. He paused on
the levee to survey with concern and astonishment the
flood of waters behind it, and then asked an officer the
way to General Sherman's headquarters. The officer, who
was greatly impressed by the gentleman's looks, led him
at once to a trestle bridge which spanned the distance from
the levee bank over the flood to a house up to its first floo?
In the backwaters. The orderly saluted,
ss Who shall I say, sir ? "
WITH THE AEMIES OF THE WEST 421
The officer looked inquiringly at the gentleman, who
gave his name.
The officer could not repress a smile at the next thing
that happened. Out hurried the General himself, with
both hands outstretched.
" Bless my soul ! " he cried, " if it isn't Brinsmade.
Come right in, come right in and take dinner. The boys
will be glad to see you. I'll send and tell Grant you're
here. Brinsmade, if it wasn't for you and your friends
on the Western Sanitary Commission, we'd all have been
dead of fever and bad food long ago." The General
sobered abruptly,, " I guess a good many of the boys are
laid up now," he added.
" I've come down to do what I can, General," responded
Mr. Brinsmade, gravely. " I want to go through all the
hospitals to see that our nurses are doing their duty and
that the stores are properly distributed."
"You shall, sir, this minute," said the General. He
dropped instantly the affairs which he had on hand, and
without waiting for dinner the two gentlemen went to=
gether through the wards where the fever raged. The
General surprised his visitor by recognizing private after
private in the cots, and he always had a brief word of cheer-
to brighten their faces, to make them follow him with wist=
ful eyes as he passed beyond them. " That's poor Craig,"
he would say, "corporal, Third Michigan. They tell me he
can't live," and " That's Olcott, Eleventh Indiana. Good
God ! " cried the General, when they were out in the air
again, " how I wish some of these cotton traders could get
a taste of this fever. They keep well — the vultures I
And by the way, Brinsmade, the man who gave me no
peace at all at Memphis was from your city. Why, I had
to keep a whole corps on duty to watch Mm."
" What was his name, sir ? " Mr. Brinsmade asked.
" Hopper ! " cried the General, with feeling. " Elipha=
let Hopper. As long as I live I shall never forget it
How the devil did he get a permit ? What are they about
St Washington ? "
"You surprise me," said Mr. Brinsmade* "He has
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. 6J It
ever I set eyes on him again, he's clapped into the guard'
house. He knows it, too."
" Speaking of St. Louis, General," said Mr. Brinsmade,
presently, " have you ever heard of Stephen Brice ? He
joined your army last autumn. You may remember talk-
ing to him one evening at my house."
" He's one of my boys ! " cried the General. " Remem-
ber him ? Guess I do ! " He paused on the very brink of
relating again the incident at Camp Jackson, when Ste-
phen had saved the life of Mr. Brinsmade's own son.
M Brinsmade,, for three days I've had it on my mind to
send for that boy, I'll have him at headquarters now,
I like him," cried 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 let me know when he was ready to go to war. No such
thing. He never came near me. The first thing I hear
of him is that he's digging holes in the clay of Chickasaw
Bluff, and hi3 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 surprisingly, 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
headquarters, and the General beckoned quickly to an
orderlys
66 My compliments to Lieutenant Stephen Brice, Sixth
Missouri, and ask him to report here at once» At once,
you understand 1 "
"Yes, General."
It so happened that Mr, Brice's company were swing-
ing axes when the orderly arrived, and Mr. Brice had as
axe himself j and was up to his boot tops in yellow mud,
WITH THE AEMTES OF THE WEST 423
The orderly, who had once been an Iowa farmer^ was near
grinning when he gave the General's message and saw th©
lieutenant gazing ruefully at his clothes.
Entering headquarters, Stephen paused at the doorway
of the big room where the officers of the different staffs
were scattered about, smoking, while the negro servants
were removing the dishes from the table. The sunlight,
reflected from the rippling water outside, danced on
the ceiling. At the end of the room sat General Sher-
man, his uniform, as always, a trifle awry. His soft felt
hat with the gold braid was tilted forward, and his feet,
booted and spurred, were crossed. Small wonder that the
Englishman who sought the typical American found him
in Sherman =
The sound that had caught Stephen's attention was the
General's voice, somewhat high-pitched, in the key that he
used in telling a story. These were his closing words s —
"Sin gives you a pretty square deal, boys, after alL
Generally a man says, • Weil, I can resist, but I'll have
my fun just this once.' That's the way it happenso They
tell you that temptation comes irresistibly . Don't believe
it. Do you, Mr. Brice? Come over here, sirc Here's
a friend of yours."
Stephen made his way to the General, whose bright
eyes wandered rapidly over him as he added % — -
44 This is the condition my officers report in, Brinsmade,
— mud from head to heel."
Stephen had sense enough to say nothing, but the staff
officers laughed, and Mr. Brinsmade smiled as he rose and
took Stephen's hand.
44 1 am delighted to see that you are well, sir," said he;
with that formal kindliness which endeared him to alio
44 Your mother will be rejoiced at my news of you* You
will be glad to hear that I left her well, Stephen,"
Stephen inquired for Mrs. Brinsmade and Anne.
M They are well, sir, and took pleasure in adding to a
little box which your mother sent. Judge Whipple put
in a box of fine cigars, although he deplores the use of
^obaccoo"
424 THE CRISIS
" And the Judge, Mr. Brinsmade-
The good gentleman's face felL
64 He is ailing, sir, it grieves me to saye 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 ways, 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 Jinny Carvel, who comes in from Belle-
garde every afternoon."
"Miss Carvel?" exclaimed Stephen, wondering if he
heard aright. And at the mention of her name he tingled,
"None other, sir," answered Mr. Brinsmade. "She
lias 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 I "
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-
WITH THE ARMIES OF THE WEST 32$
vad of the fly was thrust back with a quick movement^
and who should come stooping in but General Sherman
himself. He sat down on a cracker box. Stephen rose
confusedly.,
*' Well, well, Brice," said the General, winking at Mi
Brinsmade, u I think you might have invited me to the
isast. Whers are those cigars Mr. Brinsmade was talk-
ing about ? "
Stephen opened the box with alacrity 0 The General
^hose one and lighted it.
" Don't smoke, eh ? " he inquired.
u Why^ yes, sir, when I can."
u Then light up, sir," said the General, " and sit down.
I've been thinking lately of court-martialling you, bu*
I decided to come 'round and talk it over with you first*
That isn't strictly according to the rules of the service.
Look here, Mr, Brice, why did you leave St. Louis ? "
" They began to draft, sir, and I couldn't stand it any
longer."
"But you wouldn't have been drafted. You were in
the Home Guards, if I remember right* And Mr. Brins-
made tells me you were useful in many ways What was
your rank in the Home Guards ? "
" Lieutenant colonel, sir."
44 And what are you here ? "
M A second lieutenant in temporary command. General7'
66 You have commanded men ? "
u Not in action, sir* I felt that that was different •."
" Couldn't they do better for you than a second-lieu
tenancy ? "
Stephen did not reply at once, Mr£ Brinsmade spoke
ip.
"They offered him a lieutenant-colonelcy/'
The General was silent a moment. Then he said
u Do you remember meeting me on the boat when I was
Leaving St. Louis, after the capture of Fort Henry?"
Stephen smiled. " Ver}^ well, General," he replied,
General Sherman leaned forward.
66 And do you remember I said to you, ' Brice5 whep
^6 THE CRISIS
you get ready to come into this war, let me knowo * Why
didn't you do it ? "
Stephen thought a minute. Then he said gravely, but
with just a suspicion of humor about his mouth s — ~
" General, if I had done that, you wouldn't be here m
my tent to-day,"
Like lightning tne General was on his feet, his hand
on Stephen's shoulder,
* By gad, sir5?? he cried, delighted, "so I wouldn't**9
■jHAPTER YIU
A STRANGE MEETOTG
Twm story sf the capture of Vicksburg Is the old? oid[
gtory of failure turned into success, by which man is made
Immortal. It involves the history of a general who nevei
retraced his steps, who cared neither for mugwump mux
murs nor political cabals, who took both blame and praise
with equanimity. Through month after month of dis-
couragement, and work gone for naught, and fever and
death, his eyes never left his goal. And by grace of the
wisdom of that President who himself knew sorrow and
suffering and defeat and unjust censure. General Grant
won
Boldness did it, The canal abandoned, one red night
fieet and transports swept around the bend and passed ths
city's heights, on a red river. The Parrotts and the Dahi-
grens roared, and the high bluffs flung out the sound over
the empty swamp land.
Then there came the landing below, and the cutting"
loose from a base — unheard of. Corps behind cursed
corps ahead for sweeping the country clear of forage
Battles were fought, Confederate generals in Mississippi
were bewildered.
One night, while crossing with his regiment a pontoon
bridge, Stephen Brice heard a shout raised on the farther
shore, Sitting together on a log under a torch, two men
m sloucn hats were silhouetted. That one talking with
rapid gestures was General Sherman* The impassive pro-
file of the other, — the close-cropped beard and the firmly
held cigar that seemed to go with it, t~ Stephen recognized
as that of the strange Captain Grant who had stood beside
&im in the street by the ArsenaL He fcu*d not chan«^" -
THE CRISIS
whit. Motionless, he watched corps after corps splash by4
artillery, cavalry, and infantry, nor gave any sign that h©
heard their plaudits.
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 gorges by the rains, and flung up
in great mounds. Stripped of the green magnolias and
the cane, the banks of clay stood forth in hideous yellow
nakedness, save for a lonely stunted growth, or a bare
trunk that still stood tottering on the edge of a bank9
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 besiegers
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 lines lay the dead and wounded
suffering untold agonies in the moist heat. Then came a
truce to bury the dead, to bring back what was left of the
living.
The doomed chVy had no rest. Like clockwork from
the Mississippi's banks beyond came the boom and shriek
of the coehorns on the barges. The big shells hung
for an instant in 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 home.,
Here was work in the trenches, digging the flying sap
by night and deepening it by day, for officers and men
alike. From heaven a host of blue ants could be seen
toiling in zigzags forward, ever forward, along the rude
water-cuts and through the hills* A waiting carrion from
her vantage point on high marked one spot ana then an-
other where the blue ants disappeared, and again one by
one came out of the burrow to hurry down the trench, — =
each with his ball of clay.,
In due time the ring of metal and sepulchred voices
mmbled in the ground beneath the besieged. Counter-
A STRANGE MEETING 42*
aiines were started, and through the narrow walls of earth
commands and curses came, Above ground the saps were
so near that a strange converse became the rule. It was
» Hello, Reb ! " " Howdy, Yank ! " Both sides were starv-
ing, the one for tobacco and the other for hardtack and
bacon. These necessities were tossed across, sometimes
wrapped in the Vicksburg news-sheet printed on the white
side of a homely green wall paper. At other times other-
amenities were indulged in. Hand-grenades were thrown
and shells with lighted fuses rolled down on the heads
of acquaintances of the night before, who replied from
wooden coehorns hooped with iron,
The Union generals learned (common item in a siege)
that the citizens of Vicksburg were eating mule meat.
Not an officer or private in the Vicksburg armies who
does not remember the 25th of June, and the hour of three
In an afternoon of pitiless heat. Silently the long blue
files wound into position behind the earth barriers which
hid them from the enemy, coiled and ready to strike when
the towering redoubt on the Jackson road should rise
heavenwards. By common consent the rifle crack of day
and night was hushed, and even the Parrotts were silent.
Stillness closed around the white house of Shirley once
more, but not the stillness it had known in its peaceful
homestead days. This was the stillness of the death
prayerc Eyes staring at the big redoubt were dimmed.
At last* to those near, a little wisp of blue smoke crept
out.
Then the earth opened with a quake. The sun was
darkened, and a hot blast fanned the upturned faces. Id
the sky, through the film of shattered clay, little black dots
scurried, poised, and fell again as arms and leg3 and head-
less trunks and shapeless bits of wood and iron. Scarcely
had the dust settled when the sun caught the light of fifty
thousand bayonets, and a hundred shells were shrieking
across the crater's edge. Earth to earth, alas, and dust to
dust ! Men who ran across that rim of a summer's after
noon died in torture under tier upon tier of their comrades*
— and so the hole was filledo
£30 THE CRISIS
An upright cannon marks the spot where a scrawny oak
once stood on a scarred and baked hillside, outside of the
Confederate lines at Vicksburg. Under the scanty shade
of that tree, on the eve of the Nation's birthday, stood
two men who typified 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 contumely. He had ceased to think or care
about Fortune, And hence, being born 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. Eoth 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 gray 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 parolled 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 bread is drawn eagerly from the knapsacks
of the blue, smoke quivers above a hundred fires, and the
smell of frying bacon brings a wistful look into the gaunt
facese Tears stand in the eyes of many a man as he eats
the food his Yankee brothers have given him on the birth-
day of their country.
Within the city it is the same. Stephen Brice, now a
oaptain in General Lauman's brigade, sees with thanks-
giving the stars and stripes flutter from the dome of that
sourt-house which he had so long watched from afar.
A STBANGE MEETING 43*
Later on, down a side street, lie pauses before a house with
Its face blown away. On the verge of one of its jagged
floors is an old four-posted bed, and beside it a child's cot
is standing pitifully, — the tiny pillow still at the head
and the little sheets thrown across the foot. So much for
one of the navy's shells.
While he was thinking of the sadness of it all, a little
scene was acted i the side door of the house opened, a
weeping woman came out, and with her was a tall Con-
federate Colonel of cavalry. Gallantly giving her his
arm, he escorted her as far as the little gate, where she
bade him good by with much feeling. With an impulsive
movement he drew some money from his pocket, thrust it
upon her, and started hurriedly away that he might not
listen to her thanks. Such was his preoccupation that he
actually brushed into Stephen, who was standing beside a
tree. He stopped and bowed.
"Excuse me, seh5" he said contritely. "I beg your
pardon, seh."
" Certainly," said Stephen, smiling \ " it was my fault
for getting in your way*"
" Not at all, seh," said the cavalry Colonel ; * my clum-
siness, seh." He did not pass on, but stood pulling with
some violence a very long mustache, "Damn you Yan-
kees,'" he continued, in the same amiable tone, "you've
brought us a heap of misfortune. Why, seh, in another
week we'd been fo'ced to eat niggers"
The Colonel made such a wry face that Stephen laughed
In spite of himself. He had marked the man's charitable
action, and admired his attempt to cover it. The Colonel
seemed to be all breadth, like a card. His shoulders were
incredible. The face was scant, perchance from lack cf
food, the nose large, with a curved rim, and the eyes blue-
gray. He wore clay-flecked cavalry boots, and was six
feet five if an inch, so that Stephen's six seemed insignifi-
cant beside him.
" Captain," he said, taking in Stephen's rank, " we won't
qua'l as to who's host lieah. One thing's suah," he
addedj with a twinkle, M I've been heah longest. Seems
432 THE CEISIS
like ten yeahs since I saw the wife and children down in
the Palmetto State. I can't offer you a dinner, seh0
We've eaten all the mules and rats and sugar cane in
town." (His eye seemed to interpolate that Stephen
wouldn't be 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 flask. 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 walked 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 usages-
Houses with gaping chasms in their sides, others mere
heaps of black ruins ; great trees felled, cabins demol-
ished, and here and there the sidewalk ploughed across
from curb to fence.
" Lordy," exclaimed the Colonel. " Lordy ! how my
ears ache since your damned coehorns have stopped. The
noise got to be silence with us, seh, and yesterday I reck-
oned a hundred volcanoes had bust. Tell me," said he :
" when 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."
A STKANGE MEETING 43g
a I reckon he fell on it," said Colonel Catesby Jennison*
as if it were a matter of no special note.
" And now tell me something," said Stephen, " How
did you burn our sap-rollers ? "
This time the Colonel stopped, and gave himself up to
hearty laughter.
" Why, that was a Yankee trick, sure enough," he cried.
" Some ingenious cuss soaked port fire in turpentine, and
•hot the wad in a large-bore musket."
" We thought you used explosive bullets."
The Colonel laughed again, still more heartily.
"Explosive bullets ! Good Lord, it was all we could
do to get percussion caps. Do you know how we got
percussion caps, seh ? Three of our officers — dare-devils,
seh — floated down the Mississippi on logs. One fellow
made his way back with two hundred thousand. He's the
pride of our Vicksburg army. Not afraid of hell. A
chivalrous man, a forlorn-hope man. The night you ran
the batteries he and some others went across to your side
in skiffs — in skiffs, seh, I say — and set fire to the houses
in De Soto, that we might see to shoot, And then he came
back in the face of our own batteries and your guns That
man was wounded by a trick of fate, by a cussed bit of shell
from your coehorns while eating his dinner in Vicksburg.
He's pretty low, no w, poor fellow," added the Colonel, sadly a
* Where is he ? " demanded Stephen, fired with a desire
to see the man.
" Well, he ain't a great ways from here,** said the Colonel.
" Perhaps you might be able to do something for him," he
continued thoughtfully. " I'd hate to see him die. The
doctor says hell pull through if he can get care and good
air and good food." He seized Stephen's arm in a fierce
grip. " You ain't fooling ? " he said.
"Indeed I am not," said Stephen.
" No," said the Colonel, thoughtfully, as to himself, "you
don't look like the man to fool."
Whereupon he set out with great strides, in marked con-
trast to his former languorous gait, and after a while they
came to a sort of gorge, where the street ran between high
2*
434 THE CRISIS
banks of clay. There Stephen saw the magazines whicis
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 floor, 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 lady 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 handsome 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
Onion Captain.
" My God ! " cried Jennison, seizing Stephen's rigid
arm, " does he look as bad as that ? We've seen him
every day."
"I — I know him," answered Stephen. He stepped
quickly to the bedside, and bent over it6 " Colfax ! " he
said. " Colfax I "
"This is too much, Jennison," came from the bed
voice that was pitifully weak| "why do you bring
Yankees in here ? "
44 Captain Brice is a friend of yours, Colfax," said the
Colonel, tugging at his mustache.
u Brice ? " repeated Clarence, " Brice f Does he sorn^
lirom St. Louis ? "
H Do you come from St. Louis, sir?s?
A STKANGE MEETING 43S
M Yes* I hare met Captain Colfax ■ — "
"Colonel, sir."
** Colonel Colfax, before the war, And if he would lik€
io go to St. Louis, I think I can have it arranged at once/'
In silence they waited for Clarence's answer, Stephen
well knew what wa3 passing in his mind, and guessed
at his repugnance to accept a favor from a Yankee, He
wondered whether there was in this case a special detesta-
tion. And so his mind was carried far to the northward
to the memory of that day in the summer-house on the
Meramec heights. Virginia had not loved her cousin
then — of that Stephen was sure. But now, — now that
the Vicksburg army was ringing with his praise, now tha$
he was unfortunate— Stephen sighed. His comfort
was that he would be the instrument.
The lady in her uneasiness smoothed the single sheet
that covered the sick man. From afar came the sound (J
cheering, and it was this that seemed to rouse him, He
faced them again, impatiently,
"I have reason to remember Mr, Brice," he said
steadily. And then, with some vehemence, ** What is h©
doing in Vicksburg ?"
Stephen looked at Jennison, who winced,
44 The city has surrendered," said that officer.
They counted on a burst of anger. Colfax only
groaned.
** Then you can afford to be generous," he said, with a
bitter laugh. "But you haven't whipped us yet, by a
good deal. Jennison," he cried, " Jennison, why in hell did
you give up? "
* Colfax," said Stephen, coming forward, "you're too
sick a man to talk- I'll look up the General. It may be
that I can have you sent North to-day."
M You can do as you please," said Clarence, coldly, " with
a ^risoner."
The blood rushed to Stephen's face. Bowing to th&
lady, he strode out of the room. Colonel Jennison, run
liing after him, caught him in the street,
" You're not offended^ Brice ? " ha said. * Ze'§ siak — *
436 THE CEISIS
and God Almighty, he's proud — I reckon," lie 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."
Fortunately, 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 Irve 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 parole
might get your permission to send him up to-day<?*
A STRANGE MEETING m
"What's his name Jn
"Colfax, sir."
The General laughed. " I know the breed/* said h©c
M I'll bet he didn't thank you."
"No, sir, he didn't."
**I like his grit," said the General, emphatically,
" These young bloods are the backbone of this rebellion,
Brice. They were made for war. They never did any-
thing except horse-racing and cock-fighting. They ride
like the devil, fight like the devil, but don't care a picayune
for anything. Walker had some of 'em. Crittenden had
some. And, good Lord, how they hate a Yankee ! I
know this Colfax, too. He's a cousin of that fine-looking
girl Brinsmade spoke of. They say he's engaged to her,
Be a pity to disappoint her — eh ? "
" Yes, General."
"Why, Captain, I believe you would like to marry her
yourself ! Take my advice, sir, and don't try to tame
any wildcats."
" I'm glad to do a favor for that young man," said the
General, when Stephen had gone off with the slip of paper
he had given him. " I like to do that kind of a favor for
any officer, when I can. Did you notice how he flared
up when I mentioned the girl ? "
This is why Clarence Colfax found himself that evening
on a hospital steamer of the Sanitary Commission, bound
tiorth for St. Louis.
CHAPTER IX
BELLEGARDB ONCE MOM
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-
ginia chafed at those suppers, and how she despised the
guests whom her aunt was in the habit of inviting to some
of them ! And when none was 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 con vie-
tion, A lazy wind from the river stirred the lawn of Vir
ginia's gown. The girl, with her hand on the wicker back
of the chair, was watching a storm gather to the eastward,
across the Illinois prairie.
w I don't see why you say 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 line, telling 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, U Clarence's letters could
not pass the close lines of the Federal troops, news of
her father's Texas regiment could not come from Red
Eiver.
Jf How was Judge Whipple to-day ? " asked Mrs. CoI=
fax, presently.
£' Very weak. He doesn't seem to improve much."
64 1 can't see why Mrs. Brice* — isn't that her name ? —-
doesn't take him to her house. Yankee women are saok
prudes."
4a?
BELLEGARDE ONCE MORE m
Virginia began to rock slowly, and her foot tapped the
|jorch.
"Mrs. Brice has begged the Judge to come to her.
But he says he has lived in those rooms, and that he will
die there, — when the time comes."
u How you worship that woman, Virginia ! You have
become quite a Yankee yourself, I believe, spending whole
days with her, nursing that old man.*'
"The Judge is an old friend of my father's; I think he
would wish it," replied the girl, in a lifeless voice.
Her speech did not reveal all the pain and resentment
she felt, She thought of the old man racked with pain
and suffering in the heat, lying patient on his narrow
bed, the only light of life remaining the presence of the
two women. They came day by day, and often Margaret
Brice had taken the place of the old negress who sat with
him at night. Worship Margaret Brice ! Yes, it was
worship ; it had been worship since the day she and her
father had gone to the little whitewashed hospital, Provi=
dence had brought them together at the Judge s bedside
The marvellous quiet power of the older woman had laid
hold of the girl in spite of all barriers.
Often when the Judge's pain was eased sufficiently foi
him to talk, he would speak of Stephen. The mothei
never spoke of her son, but a light would come into hei
eyes at this praise of him which thrilled Virginia to see.
And when the good lady was gone, and the Judge had
fallen into slumber, it would still haunt her.
Was it out of consideration for her that Mrs, Brice
would turn the Judge from this ;,opic which he seemed to
love best? Virginia could not admit to herself that she
resented this. She had heard Stephen's letters to the
Judge. They came every week* Strong and manly they
were, with plenty of praises for the Southern defenders
of Vicksburg. Only yesterday Virginia had read one oi
these to Mr. Whipple, her face burning. Well that his
face was turned to the window, and that Stephen's mother
was not there I
04 He says very little about himself,'5 Mr, Whipple
m THE CRISIS
complained. u Had it not been for Brinsmade, we shonlcl
never know that Sherman had his eye on him, and had
promoted him. We should never have known of that
exploit at Chickasaw Bluff. But what a glorious victor)7
was Grant's capture of Vicksburg, on the Fourth of July I
I guess we'll make short work of the Rebels now."
No, the Judge had not changed much, even in illness.
He would never change. Virginia laid the letter down,
and tears started to her eyes as she repressed a retort.
It was not the first time this had happened. At every
Union victory Mr. Whipple would loose his tongue, How
strange that, with all his thought of others, he should fall
short here !
One day, after unusual forbearance, Mrs, Brice had
overtaken Virginia on the stairway. Well she knew the
girl's nature, and how difficult she must have found
repressionc Margaret Brice had taken her hand.
u My dear," she had said, " you are a wonderful woman."
That was all. But Virginia had driven back to Belle-
garde with a strange elation in her heart.
Some things the Judge had forborne to mention, and
for this Virginia was thankful. One was the piano. But
she had overheard Shadrach telling old Nancy how
Mrs. Brice had pleaded with him to move it, that he
might have more room and air. He had been obdurate.
And Colonel Carvel's name had never once passed his
lips.
Many a night the girl had lain awake listening to the
steamboats as they toiled against the river's current,
while horror held her. Horror lest her father at that
(moment be in mortal agony amongst the heaps left by
the battle's surges ; heaps in which, like mounds of ashes,
the fire was not yet dead. Fearful tales she had heard
in the prison hospitals of wounded men lying for days in
the Southern sun between the trenches at Vicksburgv or
freezing amidst the snow and sleet at Donelson.
Was her bitterness against the North not just ? Wha£
a life had been Colonel Carvel's ! It had dawned brightly c
One war had cost him his wife. Another, and he had lose
BELLEGARDE ONCE MOBE 441
his fortune, bis home, his friends, all that was dear to him,
And that daughter, whom he loved best in all the world,
he was perchance to see no more,
Mrs, Colfax, yawning, had taken a book and gone to
bed. Still Virginia sat on the porch, while the frogs sang
of rain, and the lightning quivered across the eastern sky*
She heard the crunch of wheels in the graveL
A bar of light, peopled by moths, slanted out of the
doorway and fell on a closed carriage. A gentleman
slowly ascended the steps, Virginia recognized him as
Mr, Brinsmadeo
" Your cousin Clarence has come home, my dear," he
said. " He was among the captured at Vicksburg, and is
paroled by General Grant."
Virginia gave a little cry and started forward. But he
held her hands.
"He has been wounded!"
" Yes," she exclaimed, " yes. Oh, tell me, Mr, Brins-
made, tell me — all — "
* No, he is not dead, but he is very low. Mr. Russell
has been kind enough to come with me."
She hurried to call the servants* But they were all
there in the light, in African postures of terror, — * Alfred,
and Sambo, and Mammy Easter, and Ned. They lifted
the limp figure in gray, and carried it into the hall
chamber, his eyes closed, his face waxen under a beard
brown and shaggy. Heavily, Virginia climbed the stairs
to break the news to her aunt.
There is little need to dwell on the dark days which
followed — Clarence hanging between life and death.
That his life was saved was due to Virginia and to
Mammy Easter, and in no particle to his mother. Mrs.
Colfax flew in the face of all the known laws of nurs-
ing, until Virginia was driven to desperation, and held
a council of war with Dre Polk. Then her aunt grew
jealous, talked of a conspiracy, and threatened to send
for Dr. Brown — which Dr. Polk implored her to do.
By spells she wept, when they quietly pushed her frorr?
442 THE CRISIS
the room and locked the door. She would creep in tc
him 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
in the small hours, while Ned was riding post haste ovez
the black road to town for the Doctor.
By the same trusty messenger did Virginia contrive to
send a note to Mrs. Brice, begging her to explain her
absence to Judge Whipple* By day or night Virginia
did not leave Belle-garde. And once Dr. Polk, while
walking 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 !
'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 exacting
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 fruit:
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,
first with the Judge, and later, when she needed it more,
with Clarence. It was she whom he recognized first of
all, 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 awoks, his fever rose. He put his hot hand into her
oool 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 in her cheeks, marvelled. Great-hearted Puss Russell,
who came frequently to inquire, was quieted before her
friend, 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
BELLEGAKDE ONCE MORE 443
af (Kirseives add one cubit to our stature „ It is God who
changes, — who cleanses us of our levity with the fire of
trial, Happy, thrice happy ? those whom He chasteneth.
And yet how many are there who could not bear the
fire — who would cry out at the flame I
Little by little Clarence mended, until he came to sit
cut on the porch in the cool of the afternoon. Then
he would watch for hours the tassels stirring ever the
green fields of corn and the river running beyond, while the
two women sat by, At times, when Mrs. Colfax's head-
aches came on, and Virginia was alone with him, he would
talk of the war 5 sometimes of their childhood, of the mad
pranks they played here at Bellegarde, of their friends.
Only when Virginia read to him the Northern account of
the battles would he emerge from a calm sadness into
excitement ; and he clenched his fists and tried to rise
when he heard of the capture of Jackson and the fall of
Port Hudson. Of love he spoke not a word, and now
that he was better he ceased to hold her hand.. But often
when she looked up from her book, she would surprise his
dark eyes fixed upon her, and a look in them of but one
interpretatioUc She was troubled.
The Doctor came but every other day now, in the after-
noon. It was his custom to sit for a while on the porch
chatting cheerily with Virginia, his stout frame filling the
rocking-chair. Drc Polk's indulgence was gossip — though
always of a harmless nature 1 how Mr. Cluyme always
managed to squirm over to the side which was in favor,
and how Maude Catherwood's love-letter to a certain
dashing officer of the Confederate army had been cap-
tured and ruthlessly published in the hateful Democrat
it was the Doctor who gave Virginia news of the Judge9
and sometimes he would mention Mrs. Bricec Then
Clarence would raise his head ; and once (she saw with
trepidation) he had opened his lips to speak.
One day the Doctor came, and Virginia looked into his
face and divined that he had something to tell her0 He
sat but a few moments, and when he arose to go he took
&er hand.
04 THE CRISIS
€* I have a favor to beg of you, Jinny,,J he saicl s< The
Judge has lost his nurse. Do you think Clarence could
spare you for a little while every day ? I shouldn't ask
it," Dr. Polk continued, somewhat hurriedly for hirn,
66 but the Judge cannot bear a stranger near him. And 2
am afraid to have him excited while in this condition."
" Mrs, Brice is ill ? 5? she cried* And Clarence, watch
Ing, saw her color go.
66 No," replied Dr Polk, " but her son Stephen has coma
home from the army, He was transferred to Lauman'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 is 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 — n
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?ss he cried, *will he
die?"#
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. j
M Die ? he said, repeating the word mechanically g M my
God, I hope nok The danger is over, and he is resting
easily,, If he were not," he said quickly and forcibly, M T
should not be here."
The Doctor's mare passed more than one fleet-footed
trotter on the road to town that day* And the Doctors
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 porcKj
BELLEGAKDE ONCE MOKE 445
until the heaving of the buggy harness died on the soft
road. She felt Clarence's gaze upon her before she turned
to face him.
" Virginia ! " He had called her so of late.
"Yes, dear."
46 Virginia, sit here a moment ; I have something to tell
Jou.J5
She came and took the chair beside him, her heart beat-
ing, her breast rising and falling. She looked into his
eyes, and her own lashes fell before the hopelessness there,
But he put out his fingers wasted by illness, and she took
them in her own.
He began slowly, as if every word cost him pain,
"Virginia, we were children together here, I cannot
remember the time when I did not love you, when I did
not think of you as my wife. All I did when we played
together was to try to win your applause That was my
nature. I could not help it. Do you remember the day
I climbed out on the rotten branch of the big pear tree
yonder to get you that pear — when I fell on the roof of
Alfred's cabin ? I did not feel the pain* It was because
you kissed it and cried over me. You are crying now,'
he said tenderly, " Don't, Jinny, It isn*t to make you
lad that I am saying this.
" I have had a great deal of time to think lately » Jinny
i was not brought up seriously* «— to be a man, I have
been thinking of that day just before you were eigh
teeuj when you rode out here* How well I remember it
It was a purple day, The grapes were purple, and a
purple haze was over there across the river. You had
been cruel to me. You were grown a woman then, and I
was still nothing but a boy. Do you remember the doe
coming out of the forest, and how she ran screaming when
I tried to kiss you ? You told me I was good for nothing
Please don't interrupt me. It was true what you said?
that I was wild and utterly useless* I had never served
or pleased any but myself, — and you; I had never
studied or worked. You were right when you told me
I must learn somethings — do somethings — become of
£46 THE CRISIS
some account in the world, I am just as useless to
day/'
"Oh* Clarence, after what you have done for tha
South?"
He smiled with peculiar bitterness,
" What have I done for her ? " he added, u Crossed the
river and burned houses, I could not build them again.
Floated 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 ? n she
exclaimedo
4t Pooh,55 he said, M courage ! 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 my
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, yon remember, I wanted to go to Kansas, I
wanted to distinguish myself,'' he added with a gesture,
u 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.
M 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
auction was going on. A girl was being sold on whom
;ou had set your heart. There was some one in the
:rowd, a Yankee, who bid her in and set her free. Do
you remember him?"
He saw her profile, her lips parted, her look far away-
She inclined her head.
65 Yes," said her cousin, " so do I remember him. He
lias crossed my path many times since, Virginia. And
mark what I say — it was he whom you had in mind on
that birthday when you implored me to make something
of myself . It was Stephen Brice,9*
Her eyes flashed upon him quickly.
EELLEGAEDE ONCE MOEE 44)
" Oh, how dare you ? " she cried;
I dare anything, Virginia,'* he answered quietly
* 1 am not blaming you. And I am sure that you did
not realize that he was the ideal which you had in mind
The impression of him has never left it. Fate is in It
Again, that night at the Brinsmades*, when we were in-
fancy dress, I felt that I had lost you when I got back
He had been there when I was away., and gone again
And — and — you never told me,"
■•It was a horrible mistake. Max." she faltered "I
was waiting for you down the road, and stopped his horse
instead It — it was nothing — "
" It was fate. Jinny, In that half -hour I lost you.
How I hated that man ! " he cried, " how I hated him
M Hated ! " exclaimed Virginia, involuntarily. " Oh,
no n
v Yes,5* he said, " hated f I would have killed him if I
could. But now — "
■ But now ? "
f - Now he has saved my life I have not — I could not
tell you before He came into the place where I was
lying in Vicksburg, and they told him that my only
chance was to come North, I turned my back upon him,
insulted him Yet he went to Sherman and had me
brought home — to you, Virginia, If he loves you, — and
I have long suspected that he does — "
u Oh, no," she cried, hiding her face, * No . "
u I know he loves you. Jinny,** her cousin continued
calmly, inexorably. " And you know that he does You
must feel that he does. It was a brave thing to do* and
a generous. He knew that you were engaged to me.
He thought that he was saving me for you. He was
giving up the hope of marrying you himself.*'
Virginia sprang to her feet. Unless you had seen he*
then, you had never known the woman in her glory.
■ Marry a Yankee - " she cried m Clarence Colfax,
have you known and loved me all my life that you might
accuse me of this? Never, never, never'"
Transformed, he looked incredulous admiration
&4§ THE CRISIS
f - Jinny , do you 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 is
the pillows,
CHAPTER X
Off JUDGE WHIPPLE'S OFFICE
After this Virginia went to the Judge's bedside every
day, in the morning, when Clarence took his sleep* She
read his newspapers to him when he was well enough.
She read the detested Missouri Democrat, which I think
was the greatest trial Virginia ever had to put up witho
To have her beloved South abused, to have her heroes
ridiculed, was more than she could bear Once, when
the Judge was perceptibly better, she flung the paper out
of the window, and left the room= He called her back
penitently.
"My dear," he said, smiling admiration, "forgive an
old bear* A selfish old bear, Jinny ; my only excuse is
my love for the Union. When you are not here, I lie in
agony, lest she has suffered some mortal blow unknown tc
me, Jinny. And if God sees fit to spare our great coun-
try, the day will come when you will go down on your
knees and thank Him for the inheritance which He saved
for your children, You are a good woman, my dear, and
a strong one. I have hoped that you will see the right*
That you will marry a great citizen, one unwavering in?
his service and devotion to our Republic* jJ
The Judge's voice trembled with earnestness as he
spoke* And the gray eyes under the shaggy brows were
alight with the sacred fire of his life's purposet Undaunted
as her spirit was, she could not answer him then.
Once, only once, he said to her! "Virginia, I loved your
father better than any man I ever knew. Please God I
may see him again before I die."
He never spoke of the piano. But sometimes at twi-
light his eyes would rest on the black cloth that hie it,
Virginia herself never touched that olotb To her 13
So £49
H50 THE CEISIS
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 weaken Certain it
was that he was failing fast. So fast that on some days
Virginia, watching him, would send Ned or Shadracb ha
hot haste for DrQ 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
elock, and scarce did Anne's figure appear in the doorway
before the question had arisen to his lips : — -
u And how is my young Captain to-day ? n
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 o£,*? he
said, M And as for Mrs. Brice, I believe she worships
her."
sc But when I said that Stephen was much better to-day
sne swept out of the room as if she did not care whether
he lived or died.,"
66 Well, Anne," the Judge had answered, st 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-
lax, — the last of his recovery, while he was waiting foi
m JUDGE WHIPPLE'S OEEICE 45!
the news of his exchange, Bellegarde was never more
beautiful ., for Mrs. Colfax had no whim of letting the
place run down because a great war was in progress
Though devoted to the South, she did not consecrate her
fortune to itc Clarence gave as much as he could
Whole afternoons Virginia and he would sit in the
shaded arbor seat j 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 roses and
the mignonettes and the pinks. He was soberer than of
old. Often through the night he pondered on the change
Jn her She, too, was grave But he was troubled to
analyze her gravity, her dignity Was this merely
strength of character, the natural result of the trials
through which she had passed, the habit acquired of being
■:he helper and comforter instead of the helped and com-
forted r' Long years afterward the brightly colored
portrait of her remained in his eye, — the simple linen
gown of pink or white, the brown hair shining in the
sunlight, the graceful poise of the head- And the back-
ground of flowers — flowers everywhere, far from the
field of war.
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 iaughterc
They were engaged. She was to be his wife. He said it
over to himself many, many times in the day. He would
sit for % space, feasting his eyes upon her until she lifted
her loo o hisv and the rich color flooded her face. He
was not over to sit quietly by, was Clarence, And yet;
as the winged days flew on, that is what he did. It was
not that she did not respond to his advances: he did not
make them. Nor could he have told why£ Was it the
chivalry inherited from a long life of Colfaxes who were
gentlemen? Not wholly. Something of awe had crept
into his feeling for her,
A? the month wore on, and the time drew near for him
to go back to the war, a state that was not quite estrange-
mm& and yet something very like it9 set iiic Poos
452 THE CRISIS
Clarence ! Doubts bothered him, and he dared not givs
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 she 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 ColfaXc 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 tirades no more
" When are you to be married ? n 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 read}^ mother," he had replied,
Whenever Virginia was ready ! He knew in his heart
that if he were to ask her permission to send J.or 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 fit 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 | That they might have realized the numbers and
the resources and the wealth arrayed against them I
It was a cool day for September^ a perfect day^ an. auspi-
IN JUDGE WHIPPLE'S OFFICE 455
sious day> and yet it went the way of the others before It
This was the very fulness of the year, the earth giving
out the sweetness of her maturityv the corn in martial
ranks, with golden plumes nodding. The forest still in
Jts glory of greem They walked in silence the familiar
paths, and Alfred, clipping the late roses for the supper
table, shook his white head as they passed him. The sun,
who had begun to hurry on his southward journey, went
to bed at six. The few clothes Clarence was to take with
him had been packed by Virginia in his bag, and the two
were standing in the twilight on the steps of the housev
when Ned came around the corner. He called his young
mistress by name, but she did not hear hiim He called
again c
"Miss Jinny*"
She started as from a sleep, and paused,
u Yes, Mr. Johnson," said she, and smiled-. He wore
that air of mystery so dear to darkeySc
"Gemmen to see you, Miss Jinny ;"
u A gentleman ! " she said in surprisec M Where ?"
The negro pointed to the lilac shrubbery.
-Thar'"
u What's all this nonsense, Ned ? " said Clarence, sharply c
:i If a man is there, bring him here at oncec"
'"Reckon he won't come, Marse Cla'ence." said Nedc
61 He fearful skeered ob de light ob day. He got suthin1
very pertickler fo* Miss Jinny."
" Do you know him ? " Clarence demanded,
"No sah— -yessah — leastwise I'be seed 'urn, Name's
Robimsom"
The word 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
his cousin confronting a large man, whom he recognized
as the carrier who brought messages from the South,
" What's the matter, Jinny ? " he demanded.
H Pa has got through the lines,' she said breathlessly.
K He — he came up to see me. Where is he, Robinson ? 5
454 THE CRISIS
"He went to Judge Whipple's rooms, ma'am. They
say the Judge is dying. I reckoned you knew it, Miss
Jinny," Robinson added contritely.
"Clarence," she said, "I must go at once."
" I will go with you," 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, tLe 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 ! "
" Oh, Pa ! " 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'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 ? "
" I came to see you, Jinny, I reckon. And when I got
home to-night and heard Silas was dying, I just couldn't
IN JUDGE WHIPPLE^ OFFICE 45^
resist. He's the oldest friend I've got in St. Louis, honey,
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 whil" : "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 everything to
nurse him."
"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 ? "
"Virginia."
"Yes, Pa."
s> 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 be
so reckless ? "
456 THE CRISIS
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.
"Ned!"
" 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-gwine shufflin' up de street
when Marse Cla'ence put out after 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. Perhaps Clarence had seen — she
caught her breath at the thought and pushed open the
door.
" Oh, Pa, do you think you are safe here ? " she cried.
" Why, yes, honey, I reckon so," he answered. " Where'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
EST JUDGE WHIPPLE'S OFFICE 457
known you these many years as a man of unstained honor
You are safe with me. I ask no questions. God will judge
whether I have done my duty."
Mr. Carvel took his friend's hand. " Thank you, Calvin,'
he said. "I give you my word of honor as a gentleman
that I came into this city for no other reason than to see
my daughter. And hearing that my old friend was dying,
I could not resist the temptation, sir — "
Mr. Brinsmade finished for him. And his voice shock.
44 To come to his bedside. How many men do you think
would risk their lives so, Mrs. Brice ? "
44 Not many, indeed, Mr. Brinsmade," she answered,
44 Thank God he will now die happy. I know it has beer
much on his mind."
The Colonel bowed over her hand.
44 And in his name, madam, — in the name of my oldest
and best friend, — I thank you for what you have done for
him. I trust that you will allow me to add that I have
learned from my daughter to respect and admire you. I
hope that your son is doing well."
44 He is, thank you, Colonel Carvel. If he but knew
that the Judge were dying, I could not have kept him at
home. Dr. Polk says that he must not leave the house,
or undergo any excitement."
Just then the door of the inner room opened, and Dr.
Polk came out. He bowed gravely to Mrs. Brice and
Mr. Brinsmade, and he patted Virginia.
44 The Judge is still asleep," he said gently. " And —
he may not wake up in this world."
Silently, sadly, they went together into that little room
where so much of Judge Whipple's life had been spent.
How little it was ! And how completely they filled it, —
these five people and the big Rothfield covered 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.
What was that upon the sleeper's face from which they
drew back ? A smile ? Yes, and a light. The divine
light which is shed upon those who have lived for
m THE CEISIS
others^ who have denied themselves the lusts of the Sesli
For a long space, perhaps an hour, they stayed, silent
save for a low word now and again from the Doctor
as he felt the Judge'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
byB And she remembered hew sometimes when the con =
troversy was finished the Judge would rub his nose and
say z —
u 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 M Lead,
Kindly Light "
What was it in Silas Whipple's nature that courted the
pain of memories ? What pleasure could it have been
all through his illness to look upon this silent and cruel
reminder of days gone by forever ? She had heard that
Stephen 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
mg the pillows The strength of Stephen's features were
in hers, but not the ruggedness Her features were large*
indeed, yet stanch and softened^ The widow, as if feel
ing Virginia's look upon her5 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 ons 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 Ned9
who was becoming alarmed likewise.
Perplexed and troubled, she climbed the stairs again.
No sound came from the Judge's room. Perhans £%?■
Of JUDGE WHIPPLE'S OFFICE 45§
Slice would be back at any moment , Perhaps her fathe?
was in danger. She pat down to think, — -her elbows on
the desk in front of her, her chin in her hand, her eyes at
the level of a line of books which stood on end— Chitty's
Pleadings, Blackstone, Crreenleaf on Evidence. Absently,
as a person whose mind is in trouble, she reached out and
took one of them down and opened it. Across the fly-
leaf, in a high and bold hand, was written the name,
Stephen Atterbury Brice,
It was his desk ! She was sitting in his chair \
She dropped the book, and, rising abruptly, crossed
quickly to the other side of the room. Then she turned,
hesitatingly, and went back. This was his desk — his
chair, in which he had worked so faithfully for the man
who lay dying beyond the door* For him whom they
all loved- — whose last hours they were here to soothe,
Wars and schisms may part our bodies, but stronger
ties unite our souls. Through Silas Whipple, through
his mother, Virginia knew that she was woven of one
piece with Stephen Bricet In a thousand ways she was
reminded, lest she drive it from her belief. She might
marry another, and that would not matter.
She sank again into his chair, and gave herself over to
the thoughts crowding in her heart* How the threads of
his life ran next to hers, and crossed and recrossed them !
The slave auction, her dance with him, the Fair, the meet=
ing at Mr. Brinsmade;s gate, — she knew them all. Her
love and admiration for his mother. Her dreams of him —
for she did dream of him. And now he had saved Clar-
mice's life that she might marry her cousin* Wras it true
that she would marry Clarence? That seemed to her only
a dream. It had never seemed real. Again she gianced at
the signature in the book, as if fascinated by the very
strength of it She turned over a few pages of the book,
M Supposing the defendant's counsel essays to prove by
means of — n that was his writing again, a marginal
note. There were marginal notes on every page ; even
the last was covered with them, And then at the end,
"First reading, February, 1858. Second reading, July,
£60 THE CRISIS
1858, Bought with some of money obtained by first
article for MD.4 That capacity for work, incomparable
gift, was what she had always coveted the most. Again
she rested her elbows on the desk and her chin on her
hands, and sighed unconsciously.
She had not heard the step on the stairD She had not
seen the door opem She did not know that any one was
in the room until she heard his voice, and then she thought
that she was dreaming.
f( Miss Carvel I "
66 Yes ? n Her head did not moveo
He took a step toward her.
" Miss Carvel I "
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 very person exhaled. It seemed to
have come upon him suddenly. Pie 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,
M Is he — dead ? n
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 remembered 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
IN JUDGE WHIPPLE'S OFFICE 4ft
not humiliation enough, with one of his books taken down
and laid open at his signature. Suffused, she groped for
words to carry her on. " I am waiting for Clarence,
Mr0 Brice, He was here, and is gone somewhere."
He did not seem to take account of the speech, And
his silence - — goad to indiscretion •— pressed her to add
"You saved him, Mr, Brice. I — we all — thank you
so muchc And that is not all I want to say. It is a poor
enough acknowledgment of what you did, — for we have
not always treated you well.'5 Her voice faltered almost
to faintness, as he raised his hand in pained protest But
she continued ; "I shall regard it as a debt I can never
repaye It is not likely that in my life to come I can ever
help you, but I shall pray for that opportunity,*'
He interrupted her,
*4I did nothing, Miss Carvel, nothing that the most
unfeeling man in our army would not do„ Nothing that
I would not have done for the merest stranger, J>
" You saved him for me," she said.
O fateful words that spoke of themselves ! She turned
away from him for very shame, and yet she heard him
saying : —
" 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 anguish when
she turned to him with the natural cry of woman.
" Oh, you ought not to have come here to-night. Why
did you come ,} The Doctor forbade it. The consequences
may kill you/"
64 It does not matter much/* he answeredc M The Judge
was dying.*5
M How did you know ? w
UI guessed it,- — because my mother had left me.**
u Oh, you ought not to have come ! M she said again,
"The Judge has been my benefactor,"' he answered
quietly o " I could walk, and it was my duty to come.'
u You did not walk I " she gasped,
He smiled*
462 THE CRISIS
44 1 had no carriage,'9 he said.
With the instinct of her sex she seized the chair and
placed it under hinic " You must sit down at once/1 she
cried.
" But I am not tired," he replied.
44 Oh, you must sit down, you must, Captain Brice.*^ He
started at the title, which came so prettily from her lips,
" Won't you please ? " she said pleadingly 0
He sat downc And, as the sun peeps out of a troubled
sky, she smiled.
44 It is your chair,*' she said*
He glanced at the book, and the bit of sky was crimson*
But still he said nothingc
44 It is your book," she stammeredo " I did not know
that it was yours when I took it dowm I — I was look-
ing at it while I was waiting for Clarence."
44 It is dry reading," he remarked, which was not what
he wished to sayE
44 And yet — J>
44 Yes?"
44 And yet you have read it twice/' The confession
had slipped to her lips.
She was sitting on the edge of his desk, looking down
at him. Still he did not look at hero All the will that
was left him averted his headc 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
the nightc And the moment was past. Peace seemed
to come upon them both, quieting the tumult in their
hearts, and giving them back their reason* Respect like=
wise came to the girl, — respect that was akin to awe, It
was he who spoke first.
44 My mother has ;old me how faithfully you nursed
the Judge, Miss CarveL It was a very noble thing to
dOc"
" Not noble at all," she replied hastily ■ 4* Your mothei
did the most of it. And he is an old friend of my
.father — n
m JUDGE WHIPPLE'S OFFICE 463
. "It was none the less noble," said Stephen, warmly,
* And he quarrelled with Colonel Carvel,"
** My father quarrelled with him," she corrected, " It
was well that I should make some atonement. And yet
mine was no atonement* I love Judge Whipplec It was
a — a privilege to see your mother every day — oh, how
he would talk of you! I think he loves you better than
any one on this eartho"
u Tell me about him," said Stephen, gently 0
Virginia told him, and into the narrative she tfcjew the
whole of her pent-up self. How patient the Judge* had
been, and the joy he had derived from Stephen's letters,
" You were very good to write to him so often," she said.
It seemed like a dream to Stephen, like one of the many
dreams of her, the mystery of which was of the inner life
beyond our ken. He could not recall a time when she
had not been rebellious, antagonistic. And now — as he
listened to her voice, with its exquisite low tones and
modulations, as he sat there in this sacred intimacy, per=
chance to be the last in his life, he became dazed. His
eyes, softened, with supreme eloquence cried out that she
was his, forever and forever. The magnetic force , which
God uses to tie the worlds together was pulling him to
her, And yet the Puritan resisted - —
Then the doer swung open, and Clarence Colfax, out
of breath, ran into the room. He stopped short when he
saw them, his hand fell to his sides, and his words died on
his lips. Virginia did not stir.
It was Stephen who rose to meet him, and with hei eyes
the girl followed his motions. The broad and loosely
ouilt frame of the Northerner, his shoulders slightly stoop-
ing, contrasted with Clarence's slighter figure, erect, com
pact, springy. The Southerner's eye, for that moment,
was flint struck with the spark from the steel. Stephen's
face, thinned by illness, was grave. The eyes kindly, yet
penetrating. For an instant they stood thus regarding
each other, neither offering a hand. It was Stephen who
spoke first, and if there was a trace of emotion in kia
Voice, one who was listening intently failed to mark it,
464 THE CRISIS
6*I am glad to see that you have recovered^ Colone!
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 ac
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 saido " 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 lifec 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 them3 How her
eyes shone and her lip trembled as she gazed at him^
Stephen has never forgotten. What a woman she was
as she took her cousin's arm and made him a curtsey.
" What you have done may seem a light thing to you,
Captain Brice," she saidc "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 — nayy
penitent. He seized Stephen's hand.
"Forgive me, Brice," he cried. "Forgive me. I
should have known betters I — - 1 did you an injustice,
and you, Virginia, I was a fool — a scoundrel, ry
Stephen shook his head.
" No, you were neither," he said, Then upon his face
same 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
Dross, — Abraham Lincoln Clarence looked^ and then he
EN" JUDGE WHIPPLE'S OFFICE 465
turned away toward the door to the stairway, as one who
walks blindly, in a sorrow.
His hand was on the knob when Virginia seemed to
awake. She flew after him
M Wait = M she whispered.
Then she raised her eyes, slowly, to Stephen, who was
standing motionless beside his chair.
u Captain Brice ! "5
" Yes,*' he answered.
" My father is in the Judge's room,,? she said,
" Your father ! " he exclaimed. " I thought — 5'
"That he was an officer in the Confederate Arnrjr Sc
he is." Her head went up as she spoke.
Stephen stared at her, troubled. Suddenly her manner
changed. She took a step toward him, appealingly6
" Oh, he is not a spy," she cried, " He has given Mr=
Brinsmade his word that he came here for no other pur
pose than to see me. Then he heard that the Judge was
dying — "
" He has given his word to Mr„ Brinsmade ? n
"Yes."
" Then," said Stephen, " what Mr„ Brinsmade sanctions
is not for me to question."
She gave him yet another look, a fleeting one which he
did not see. Then she softly opened the door and passed
into the room of the dying man. Stephen followed her.
As for Clarence, he stood for a space staring after them3
Then he went noiselessly down the stairs into the street,
CHAPTER XI
LBAD5 KINDLY LIGH^
When the Judge opened his eyes for the last time m
&Ms 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 0
H Comyn 1 M
"Yes, Silas."
M Comyn, what are you doing here ? ?>
M I reckon I came to see you, Silas/5 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*
H Comyn,*' said the Judge again, " I heard that you had
gone South to fight against your country, I see you here0
Can it be that you have at last returned in your allegiance,
to the flag for which your forefathers died ? i '
Poor Colonel Carvel !
** 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
|rears< Let us be friends again, before — M
" Before I die," the Judge interrupted, M I am ready
m die„ Yesv 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 L But/' he cried, the stern fire unquenched
to the last, M I would that God had spared me to see chis
Rebellion stamped out= For it will be stamped out, To
tsbose watching* Ms ©yes seemed nxed on & distant points
LEAD, KINDLY LIGHT 46?
and the light of prophecy was in themc M I would that
God had spared me to see this Union supreme once more,
Yes, it will be supreme. A high destiny is reserved for
thi3 nation — I think the highest of all on this earth."
Amid profound silence he leaned back on the pillows
from which he had risen, his breath coming fasto None
dared look at the neighbor beside them*
It was Stephen's mother who spokec M Would you not
like to see a clergyman, Judge ? " she asked.
The look on his face softened as he turned to her,
" No, madam," he answered ; " you are clergyman enough
for me. You are near enough to God — there is no one in
this room who is not worthy to stand in the presence of
death. Yet I wish that a clergyman were here, that he
might listen to one thing I have to say. When I was a
boy I worked my way down the river to New York, to see
the cityc I met a bishop there, He said to me, 'Sit
down, my son, I want to talk to you. I know your father
in Albany ■ You are Senator Whipple's son.* I said to
him, ' No, sir, I am not Senator Whipple's son. I am no
relation of his.* If the bishop had wished to talk to me
after that, Mrs. Brice, he might have made my life a little
easier — a little sweeter^ I know that they are not all
like that. But it was by just such things that I was
embittered when I was a boy„" He stopped, and when he
spoke again, it was more slowly, more gently, than any of
them had heard him speak in all his life before. " I wish
that some of the blessings which I am leaving now had
come to me then — when I was a boy* I might have done
my little share in making the world a brighter place to
Jive in, as all of you have done. Yes, as all of you are
now doing for me. I am leaving the world with a better
opinion of it than I ever held in life. God hid the sun
from me when I was a little child. Margaret Brice, ' he
said, " if I had had such a mother as you, I would have
been softened then0 I thank God that He sent you when
He did."
The widow bowed her head, and a tear fell upon his
pillow.
^68 THE CRISIS
fc*I have done nothing/5 she murmured, f* nothings95
66 So shall they answer at the last whom He has chosen,*'
©aid the Judge. ■* I was sick, and ye visited me. He has
promised to remember those who do that. Hold up your
head, 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 eyes 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, M you have been faithful in a few
things. So shall you be made ruler over many things*
The little I have I 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 this
RepubliCc 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 incorruptibleo Half-tried men
will go down before that floods You and those like you
will remember how your fathers governed, — strongly 9
sternly, justly. It was so that they governed themselves.
Be vigilante Serve your city9 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^*
" 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 natiom I sent you to see Abraham Lincoln —
fchat you might be born again — in the West* You were
born againo I saw it when you came backo I saw it in
LEAD, KINDLY LIGHT 469
your face, 0 God,** he cried, with sudden eloquence,
"would that his hands — Abraham Lincoln's hands —
might be laid upon all who complain and cavil and criti
cise, and think of the little things in life I Would that
his spirit might possess their spirit ! "
He stopped again. They marvelled and were awed, for
never in all his days had such speech broken from this man,
" Good-by, Stephen," he said, when they thought he was
not to speak again* "Hold the image of Abraham Lin-
coln in front of you0 Never forget him. You — you are
a man after his own heart — and- — and mine "
The last word was scarcely audible. They started for-
ward, for his eyes were closed, But presently he stirred
again, and opened them,
" Brinsmade," he said, " Brinsmade, take care of my
orphan girls. Send Shadrach here."
The negro came forth, shuffling and sobbing, from the
doorway,
M You ain't gwine away, Marse Jedge ? "
" Yes, Shadrach, good-by. You have served me well,
I have left you provided for."
Shadrach kissed the hand of whose secret charity he knew
so much. Then the Judge withdrew it, and motioned to
him to rise. He called his oldest friend by name. And
Colonel Carvel came from the corner where he had been
listening, with his face drawn.
M Good-by, Comyn. You were my friend when there was
aone other. You were true to me when the hand of every
man was against me. You — you have risked your life to
come to me here. May God spare it for Virginia."
At the sound of her name, the girl started, She came
and bent over him. And when she kissed him on the
forehead, he trembled ,
" Uncle Silas ! " she faltered.,
Weakly he reached up and put his hands on her shoul
ders. He whispered in her ear. The tears came and lay
wet upon her lashes as she undid the button at hi3 throats
There, on a piece of cotton twine, hung a little key. She
book it off. but still his hands held her
4i70 THE CEISIS
66 1 have saved it for you, my dear,'5 he saido ^God
bless 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 wore, who stood by Virginia ready to
lift the lid 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
" Lead, Kindly Light, ainid the encircling gloom,
Ledd Thou me on !
The night is dark, and I am far from home,
Lead Thou me on.
Keep Thou my feet I I do not ask to see
The distant scene i one step enough for meo**
A slgk shook Siias Whipple's wasted frames a&d w h&
iiecL
CHAPTER XII
THE LAST CARD
Mb* Brinsmadb and the Doctor were the first to leave
the little 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
hiim Virginia sat on, a vague fear haunting her, — a fear
for her father's 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 in a steeple near by was striking twelve. The
Colonel did not raise his head. Only Stephen saw her
go 3 she felt his eyes following 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.
First 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
the 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.
M Hold on ! " he said, " I've got something I want to
say tc you* Miss Virginia,"
471
m% THE CKXSIS
His tones seemed strangely naturaL They were not
brutaL But she shivered and paused, horrified at the
thought of what she was about to do. Her father was in
that room- — and Stephen.. She must keep them there,,
and get this man awaye She must not show fright before
him, and yet she could not trust her voice to speak just
then0 She must not let him know that she was afraid of
him — this she kept repeating to herself . But how to act ?
Suddenly an idea flashed upon her.
Virginia never knew how she gathered the courage to
pass him, even swiftly, and turn up the gas, He started
back, blinking as the jet flarede For a moment she stood
beside it, with her head high, confronting him and striv=
ing to steady herself for speech.
" Why have you come here ? " she said. M Judge
Whipple -— died — to-night 0"
The dominating note in his answer was a whine, as if9
in spite of himself, he were awed,
" I ain't here to see the Judge."
She was pale, and quite motionless0 And she faltered
now. She felt her lips moving, but knew not whether the
words had come.,
44 What do you mean ? "
He gained confidence. The look in his little eyes wag
the filmy look of those of an animal feasting.
"I came here to see you," he said, — "yow." She was
staring at him now, in horror. "And if you don't give
me what I want, I cal'late to see some one else — in there,"
said Mr. Hopper*
He smiled, for she was swaying, her lids half closed.
By a supreme effort she conquered her terror and looked
at him. The look was in his eyes still, intensified now.
" How dare you speak to me after what has happened! "
she saidc " If Colonel Carvel were here, he would — kill
you."
He flinched at the name and the word, involuntarily =
He wiped his forehead, hot at the very thought,,
" I want to know ! " he exclaimed, in faint-hearted irony,,
Then, remembering his advantage, he stepped close to her
THE LAST CARD 473
* He is here,' he said, intense now, u He is here, in that
there room." He seized her wrists. Virginia struggled^
and yet she refrained from crying out. " He never leaves
this city without I choose. I can have him hung if I
choose,*' he whispered, next to her.
" Oh ! " she cried j " oh, if you choose ! ''
Still his body crept closer, and his face closer* And he*
strength was going.
"There's but one price to pay," he said hoarsely*
u there's bu; one price to pay, and that's you — you* I
cal'late you'll marry me now."
Delirious at the touch of her, he did not hear the door
open. Her senses were strained for that very sound,
She heard it close again, and a footstep across the room.
She knew the step — she knew the voice, and her heart
leaped at the sound of it in anger. An arm in a blue
sleeve came between them, and Eliphalet Hopper stag=
gered and fell across the books on the table, his hand to
his face. Above him towered Stephen Brice. Towered
was the impression that came to Virginia then, and so she
thought of the scene ever afterward. Small bits, like
points of tempered steel, glittered in Stephen's eyes, and
his hands following up the mastery he had given them
clutched Mr. Hopper's shoulders. Twice Stephen shook
him so that his head beat upon the table.
" You — you beast I " he cried, but he kept his voice
low. And then, as if he expected Hopper to reply ;
"Shall I kill you?"
Again he shook him violently. He felt Virginia's
touch on his arm.
"Stephen!" she cried, "your wounds! Be careful j
Oh, do be careful ! "
She had called him Stephen. He turned slowly, and his
hands fell from Mr. Hopper's cowering form as his eyes
met hers. Even he could not fathom the appeal, the
yearning, in their dark blue depths. And yet what he saw
there made him tremble. She turned awav, trembling too*
"Please sit down," she entreated, "He — he won't
^ouch me again while you are here."
-OT THE CEISIS
Bliphalet Hopper raised himself from the desk* avzd oeu
®£ the big books fell with a crash to the flooro Then they
saw him shrink, his eyes fixed upon some one behind!
them. Before the Judge's door stood Colonel Carvel, ir
mlm, familiar posture, his feet apart, and his head beat
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 corns
gasify to Mr. Hopper in that instant. Perhaps the sight
of Colonel Carvel had brought before him toe vividly the
memory of that afternoon at Glencoe.
All at once Virginia grasped the fulness of the power
in this man's hands, At a word from him 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 note
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 four 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 Lim, 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
Mm in Williams's entry as we drove up. He got away
from me."
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, w He knew I wa£
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*
THE LAST CARD 475
81 No, I ain't the spy," he said, with a meaning glance &%
she ColoneL
** Then what are you doing here ? " demanded Clarence,
fiercely.
"I cal'late that he knows," Eliplialet replied, jerking
his head toward Colonel Carvel, "Where's his Confed
erate uniform? What's to prevent my calling up the
provost's guard below ? M he continued, with a smile that
was hideous on his swelling face*
It was the Colonel who answered him, very quickly and
very clearly.
" Nothing whatever, Mr. Hopper," he said, " This is
the way out." He pointed at the door. Stephen, who
was watching him, could not tell whether it were a grim
smile that creased the corners of the Colonel's mouth as
he added, "You might prefer the window."
Mr. Hopper did not move, but his eyes shifted to Vir-
ginia's form. Stephen deliberately thrust himself between,
them that he might not see her.
" What are you waiting for ? n said the Colonel, in the
mild voice that should have been an ominous warning.
Still 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 very
force of a desire which had gathered strength in many
years made him reckless. His voice took on the oily
quality in which he was wont to bargain,
" Let's be calm about this 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 will. I can't have you — shot**9
The last word came falteringly, faintly.
" Let me go, —honey," whispered the Colonel, gently*
His eyes did not leave Eliplialet. He tried to disengage
476 THE CRISIS
himself, but her fingers were clasped about his nee1! in a
passion of fear and love* And then, while she clung to
Mm, her head was raised to listen* The souno. of Stepheo
Brice's voice held her as in a spelL His words were com
'ng coldly, deliberately, and yet so sharply that each
^eemed 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 ycu. I
know how you hide in areas, how you talk sedition in
private, how you have made money out of other men's
misery 3 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 tk©
door Now go."
And Mr, Hopper went,
jhafter xra
#BOM THE LETTERS OP MAJOR STEPHEN BR1CB
Jjf the Staff of G-eneral 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.
Dear Mother % The South Carolina Campaign is a
thing of the past. I pause as I write these words — they
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 longest and most im=
portant march ever made by an organized army in a
civilized "country. I know that you will not be misled
by the words " civilized country." Not until the history
of this campaign is written will the public realize the
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
fear of worrying you I did not write you from Savannah
how they laughed at us for starting at that season of tbs
year. They said we would not go ten miles, and I most
solemnly believe that no one but " Uncle Billy " and an
army organized and equipped by him could have gone
ten miles. Nothing seems to stop him. You have
probably remarked in the tone of my letters ever since
we left Kingston for the sea, a growing admiration for
£'my General."
It seems very strange that this wonderful tactician can be
the same man I met that day going to the Arsenal in the
street car5 and again at Camp Jackson, I am sure that his
.477
478 THE CEISIS
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 erect
figure, with his clothes all angular and awry, and an ex-
panse 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-
erally says to the Colonel : —
" 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 does,'' 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, but kindly, and he has
the same comradeship with officers 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, Bricee"
"Yes, sir/'
Pointing with his arm.
" Went beyond lines there with small party. Rebel
battery on summits Had to git. Fired on. Next day I
FROM THE LETTERS OE STEPHEN BRICE 479
thought Rebels would leave in the night. Got up before
daylight, fixed telescope on stand, and waited. Watched
top of Kenesaw. No Rebel. Saw one blue man creep up,
very cautious, looked around, waved his hat. Rebels gone
Thought so."
This gives you but a faint idea of the vividness of his
talk. When we make a halt for any time, the general
officers and their staffs flock to headquarters to listen to
his stories. When anything goes wrong, his perception of
it is like a lightning flash, — and he acts as quickly.
By the way, I have just found the letter he wrote me,
offering this staff position. Please keep it carefully, as
it is something I shall value all my life.
Gaylesville, Alabama, October 25, 1864.
Major Stephen A. Brice:
Dear Sir, — The world goes on, and wicked men sound asleep.
Davis has sworn to destroy my army, and Beauregard has come
to do the work, — so if you expect to share in our calamity,
come down. I offer you this last chance for staff duty, and
hope you have had enough in the field. I do not wish to
hurry you, but you can't get aboard a ship at sea. So if you
want to make the trip, come to Chattanooga and take your
chances of meeting me.
Yours truly,
W. T. Sherman-, Major General
One night — at Cheraw, I think it was — he sent for
me to talk to him. I found him lying on a bed of Spanish
moss they had made for him. He asked me a great many
questions about St. Louis, and praised Mr. Brinsmade,
especially his management of the Sanitary Commission.
44 Brice," he said, 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
Lauman made. Grant thought he ought to warn me
against Johnston.
44 4 He's wily, Sherman,9 said he. • He's a dangerous
niam?
44 s Grant,' said I, 4 you give me men enough and time
480 THE CEISIS
enough to look over the ground, and I'm not afraid of the
devil.'"
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 ! He likes 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 rare 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 being
between forked sticks. It is wonderful how the pitching
of a few tents, and the busy crackle of a few fires, and thej
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 men0
The 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.
They 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
in their haversacks for many a weary mile, and is cooked
in 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
hi sight of Savannah ! No man who has seen but not
shared their life may talk of personal hardship.
We arrived at this pretty little town yesterday, so
effecting a junction with Schofield, who got in with the
23d Corps the day before. I am writing at General
Schofield's headquarters. There was a bit of a battle on
Tuesday at Bentonville, and we have come hither in
smoke, as usual. But this time we thank Heaven that
it is not the smoke of burning homes, — only some resir
the " Johnnies " set on fire before they left.
I must close. General Sherman has just sent for me.
On Board Despatch Boat " Martin."
At Sea, March 25, 1865.
Dear Mother i A most curious thing has happened.
But I may as well begin at the beginning. When I
stopped writing last evening at the summons of the
General, I was about to tell you something of the battle
of Bentonville on Tuesday last. Mower charged through
as bad a piece of wood and swamp as I ever saw, and got
within one hundred yards of Johnston himself, who was
at the bridge across Mill Creek. Of course we did not
know this at the time, and learned it from prisoners.
As I have written you, 1 have been under fire very
little since coming to the staff. When the battle opened,
however, I saw that if I stayed with the General (who
was then behind the reserves) I would see little or
nothing ; I went ahead " to get information " beyond the
line of battle into the woods. I did not find these
favorable to landscape views, and just as I was turning
my horse back again I caught sight of a commotion some
distance to my right. The Rebel skirmish line had
fallen back just that instant, two of our skirmishers were
grappling with a third man, who was fighting desperately.
It struck me as singular that the fellow was not in gray,
but had on some sort of dark clothes.
I could not reach them in the swamp on horseback,
and was in the act of dismounting when the man fell,
and then they set out to carry him to the rear, stil]
2i
482 THE CEISIS
farther to my right, beyond the swamp . I shouted, and
one of the skirmishers came up. I asked him what the
matter was.
« WeVe got a spy, sir," he said excitedly.
«* A spy ? Here ? "
46 Yes, Major, He was hid in the thicket yonder,
ying 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 aa
good a fight with his fists as any man I ever saw."
Just then a regiment swept past 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. Ii
was a common story enough, but General Mower added
in his message that he thought the story fishyD 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 dining
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
*sp when I enteredc I was aware of a man standing, tall
and straight, just out of range of the candles' rays. He
wove the easy dress of a Southern planter, with the broad
FROM THE LETTERS OF STEPHEN BRICE 48?
felt hat. The head was flung back so that there was just
a patch of light on the chin, and the lids of the eyes ir
the shadow were half closed.
My sensations 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 could not place the cause of it, But this is
what since has made me feel queer : you doubtless re-
member staying at Hollingdean, when I was a boy, and
hearing the story of Lord North well's daredevil Royalist
ancestor, — the one with the lace collar over the dull-gold
velvety 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,
M Major Briee9 do you know thig gentleman ? w ^e
asked:
M Yes, General."
" Who is he ? "
M His name is Colfax, sir — Colonel Colfax, I thinks
• - Thought so,"* said the General.
I have thought much of that scene since,, as I am steam=
mg northward over green seas and under cloudless skie^
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 slave auction, which
seemfc so long ago s very handsome, very boyish, and
yet with the air of one to be deferred to* It was sum
ciently remarkable that I should have found him in Vicks-
burgc 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 ; —
Jt How do you do, Colo el Colfax ? *
J am sure that my voice was not very steady, for I can-
sot help liking him. And then his face lighted up and
484 THE CRISIS
lie gave me his hand. And he smiled at me and again a&
the General, as much as to say that it was all oyer. He
has a wonderful smile,
* We seem to run into each other, Major Brice,*9 said
he.
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 timesc
* Guess that settles it, Colonel," he said.
?* I reckon it does, General," said Clarence, still smiling,
The General turned from him to the table with a kind
of jerk and clapped his hand on the tissue paper,
M 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 ? M
"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
mi at the open windows, and the candles flickered* After
a silence, I ventured to say : —
64 1 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 h6
belongs to — pity we should have to fight those fellows/
He paused, and drummed on the table. " Brice," said he?
^ .TV. going to send you to General Grant at City Poifl&
ffEOM THE LETTERS OF STEPHEN BRICE 4SS
with despatches. I'm sorry Dunn went back yesterdays
but it can't be helped. Can you start in half an hour f "
"Yes, sir."
'-You'll have to ride to Kinston. The railroad wont
be through until to-morrow= I'll telegraph there, and to
General Easton at Morehead City. He'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,"
u Yes, sir."
1 turned to go> but Clarence Colfax was on my mind,
« General ? "
"Eh! what?"
M 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 throughc
M You saved his life once before, didn't you ? "
M You allowed me to have him sent home from Vicks
burg, sirc"
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.
« Weil, well," he said, « I'll see, I'll see. Thank God
this war is pretty near over. Ill let you know, Brice,
before I shoot hims"
I rode the thirty odd miles to Kinston in ? 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 i 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 —
486 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
chill morning air.
CHAPTER XIV
THE SAME, CONTINUED
Headquarters Armies of the United Stated
City Point, Virginia, March 28, 1865.
Dear Mother : 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 first 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 puffing and panting alone:
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 bluff a large flag drooped against its
staff, and I did not have to be told that 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 River
Queen, Yes, the President is here, too, with his wife and
family.
There are many fellows here with whom I was brought
JK
488 THE CRISIS
tip in Boston. I am living with Jack Hancock, whom you
will remember well, He is a captain now, and has a
beard.
But I must go on with my story, I went straight to
General Grant's headquarters, — just a plain, rough slat
house such as a contractor might build for a temporary
residence. Only the high flagstaff and the Stars and Striper
distinguish it from many others of the same kind. A
group of officers stood chatting outside of 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 room, and
we sat down at the long table there. Presently the door
opened, and a man came in with a slouch hat on and his
coat unbuttoned. He was smoking a cigar. We rose to
our feet, and I saluted.
It was the general-in-chief< He stared at me, but said
nothing.
"General, this is Major Brice of General Sherman's
staff. He has brought despatches from Goldsboro'," said
Rankin.
He nodded, took off his hat and laid it on the table,
and reached out for the despatches. While reading them
he did not move, except to light another cigar. I am
getting hardened to unrealities, — perhaps I should say
Marvels, now. Our country abounds in them. It did
not seem so strange that this silent 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 armies.
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 military carpet-bagger out of a job. He
is not changed otherwise. But how different the im-
pressions made by the man in authority and the same man
out of authority I
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 the 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, imperturbableo
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 asked 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 ! 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 vr'aerever the boys see that
490 THE CRISIS
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 siin«
pie men who command by force of character, as well as
knowledge. Thank God for the American ! 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 jumped 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 ! That officer
had to hurry to keep up with me as I walked to the wharf.
He led me aboard the River Queen, and stopped at the
door of the after-cabin,
Mr. Lincoln was sitting under the lamp, slouched 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
our as I entered.
When he saw me, the President rose to his 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 took
his big, 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\ 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
tor a day or two, just to show me how to do it ? '
"No, sir," I said, laughing.
" Good ! " he cried, slapping 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, the Pedee, and — ? "
" The Cape Fear," I said.
"Is — is the General a nice man?" asked Mr. Lincoln,
his eyes twinkling.
" Yes, sir, he is that," I answered heartily. " And not
*, 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 under his arms,
and began to walk up and down the cabin.
492 THE CRISIS
" What do the boys call the General ? " he askecL
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 sa}r ' 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 ? *
" i A ricommindation 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 garthener is
entitled to.'"
He did not laugh. He seldom does, it seems, at his
own stories. But I could not help laughing over the
"ricommindation" I had given the General. He knew
that I wt s embarrassed, and said kindly : —
" Now tell me something about 4 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 Jing ! " he exclaimed, " we have got a general.
Csesar burnt his bridges behind him, but Sherman burns
his rails. 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 earB
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 plainly, 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 that everybody 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 used to sit up half the night
thinking things out for myself. I remember that I did
not know what the word demonstrate meant. So I stopped
my studies then and there and got a volume of Euclid.
Before I got through I could demonstrate everjthing in it,
and I have never been 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 all those 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 i " 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. w
I thought it a good time to mention Colfax's casec He
has been on my mind ever since, Mr0 Lincoln listened
£94 THE CEISIS
attentively 0 Once he sighed, and he was winding his long
fingers around each other while I talked*
"I saw the man captured, Mr. Lincoln," I concluded:
M 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 was a poser.
" I think he is, Mr, Lincoln0 I should like 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 ! " he exclaimed. (That seems to be a favor =
ite expression of his.) u 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 said, " 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 off on account of his cousin, Miss Virginia Carvel.'5
And I told him something about Miss Carvel, and how
she had helped yTou 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 sake, 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,"
a Why I " he cried, jumping up, " she's a daughter of
Colonel CarveL I always had an admiration for that mm.
THE SAME, CONTINUED 495
An ideal Southern gentleman of the eld 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 ? n
" I heard you tell it in that tavern, sir. And I have
beard 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
'63. 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 ! " 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 — pardoning,
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 Rebels who are shut up in McDowell's and Alton.
I said : —
" 4 Senator, you're not going to ask me to turn loose all
those at once9 '
" 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
&rst=
" ' What I you don't want me tc turn these loose, too ?*
496 THE CEISIS
" * Yes, I do* Mr, President I think it wili pay to be
merciful/
64 ' Then durned if I don't,* I said, and I signed *em,?*
Steamer " River Queen."
On the Potomac^ April 9, 1365
Dear Mothers I am glad that the telegrams I have
been able to send reached you safely. I have not had time
to write, and this will be but a short letter.
You will be surprised to see this headings I am on the
President's boat, in the President's party, bound with him
for Washington. And this is how it happened i The very
afternoon of the day I wrote you, General Sherman him-
self arrived at City Point on the steamer Russia. I heard
the salutes, and was on the wharf to meet him. That
same afternoon he and General Grant and Admiral Porter
went aboard the River Queen to see the President. How
I should have liked to be present at that interview !
After it was over they all came out of the cabin together ,
General Grant silent, and smoking, as usual ; General Sher-
man talking vivaciously; and Lincoln and the Admiral
smiling and listening. That was historic ! I shall never
expect to see such a sight again in all my days. You can
Imagine my surprise when the President called me from
where I was standing at some distance with the other
officers. He put his hand on my shoulder then and there*
and turned to General Sherman.
"Major Brice is a friend of mine, General/" he said
■s I knew him in Illinois,'*
f4 He never told me that," said the General.
64 1 guess he's got a great many important things shut
ap inside of him," said Mr. Lincoln, banteringly, *f But
he gave you a good recommendation, Sherman. He said
that you wore white socks, and that the boys liked you
and called you 'Uncle Billy.' And I told him that was
the best recommendation he could give anybody."
I was frightened. But the General only looked at me
with those eyes that go through everything, and them h&
j&^ghed.
THE SAME, CONTINUED 493
'-Brice," he said, "you'll have my reputation ruined. n
M Sherman," said Mr. Lincoln, "you don't want the
Major right away, do you? Let him stay around here
for a while with me, I think he'll find it interesting, n
He looked at the general-in-chief, who was smiling just
a little bit. "I've got a sneaking notion that Grant's
going to do something."
Then they all laughed.
" Certainly, Mr. Lincoln," said my 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.
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 of mercy and errands of cheer, I have
been almost within sight of what we hope is the last
struggle of this frightful war. I have listened to the
guns 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 instant 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
piles the Confederates had built. Mr. Lincoln 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
Prison,
With the little guard of ten sailors he marched the mile
and a half to General Weitzel's headquarters, — the presi-
dential maasion of the Confederacy. You can imagine
cur anxiety. I shall remember him always as 1 saw him
that day, a tall, black figure of sorrow, with the high silk
498 THE CRISIS
hat we have learned to love. Unafraid, his heart rent
with pity, he walked unharmed amid such tumult as I
have rarely seen. The windows filled, the streets ahead
of us became choked, as the word that the President was
coming ran on like quick-fire. The mob shouted and
pushed. Drunken men reeled against him, The negroes
wept aloud and cried hosannas. They pressed upon hinr
that they might 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 yet
come ?
To-day, on the boat, as we were steaming between the
green shores of the Potomac, I overheard him reading tG
Mr. Sumner ; - —
" Duncan is in his grave ;
After life's fitful fever he sleeps well }
Treason has done his worst \ nor steel, nor poison,
Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing,
Can touch him further."
Willard's Hotel, Washington, April 10, 1865.
I have looked up the passage, and have written it ii?
above. It haunts me,
OHAPTER XV
THE MAN OF SORROWS
The train was late «— very late. It was V irginia wkr.
first caught sight of the new dome of the Capitol through
the slanting rain, but she merely pressed her lips together
and said nothing. In the dingy brick station of the
Baltimore and Ohio Railroad more than one person paused
to look after them, and a kind-hearted lady who had been
in the car kissed the girl good-by,
w 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
apart. " Do you think you can find your uncle's house ? n
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 shall."
*' Kerridge, kerridge ! Right dis-a-way ! No sah, dat
ain't de kerridge you wants. Dat's it, lady, you'se lookin7
at it. Kerridge, kerridge, kerridge ! "
Virginia tried bravely to smile, but she was very near
to tears as she stood on the uneven pavement and looked
at the scrawny 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
territories, driving up and driving away.
500 THE CRISIS
And this was Washington !
She was thinking then of the multitude who came here
with aching hearts, — with heavier hearts than was hera
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 ! Kerridge ! "
"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 sat 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 i3 Washington !
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.
44 Poor Lige I " she said. " I hope Uncle Daniel has
some breakfast for you. You've had a good deal to put
up with on this trip."
"Lordy, Jinny," said the Captain, "I'd put up with
a good deal more than this for the sake of going any
if here with you«"
THE MAN OF SORROWS «1
-- Even to such a doleful place as this ? " she sighed
J4 This is all right, if the sun'll only come out and dr^
things up and let us see the green on those trees," he said.
*$Lordy, how I do love to see the spring green in the sun=
light!"
She put out her hand over his,
44 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. u There' 3
nothing for you to be cast down about."
" Oh, but there is ! " she cried. " Suppose I can't make
your Black Republican President pardon Clarence ! "
uPooh?" 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 ? "
44 Yas, misso But he ain't to home now. Done gone to
New York."
44 Oh," faltered Virginia. 44 Didn't he get my telegram
day before yesterday ? I sent it to the War Department."
44 He's done gone since Saturday, miss." And then,
evidently impressed by the young lady's looks, he added
hospitably, 44 Kin I do anything f o' you, miss ? "
44 I'm his niece, Miss Virginia Carvel, and this is Captain
Brent."
The yellow butler's face lighted up,
44 Come right in, Miss Jinnyc Done heerd de General
speak of you often — yas'm. De GeneraFll be to home
dis a'ternoon, suah. 'Twill do him good ter see you, Misa
502 THE CEISIS
Jinny . He's been mighty lonesome. Walk right in^
Cap'n, and make yo'selves at home. Lizbeth — Lizbeth ! "
A yellow maid came running down the stairs,. " HeahJa
Miss Jinny."
" Lan* of goodness ! " cried Lizbeth. " I knows Miss
Jinny. Done seed her at Calve't House. How is you,
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 going to the
White House in a little while."
" What — what for ? " he gasped.
" To see your Black Republican President," she replied,
with alarming calmness.
"Now, Jinny," he cried, in excited appeal, "don't go
doin' any such fool trick as that. Your Uncle Dan'l will
be here this afternoon. He knows the President. And
then the thing'll be fixed all right, and no mistake."
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
THE MA2* OF SORROWS 603
tude of calls upon Mr, Lincoln, especially at that time.
But he could not, he dared not, remind her of the prinei=
pal reason for this, — Lee's surrender and the approaching
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, " you 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, tt Why9 why,
that won't get you halfway to Mr. Lincoln '
She shook her head, half smiling,
" You must eat enough, Lige," she said,
He was finished in an incredibly short time, and amid
the protestations of Lizbeth and the yellow butler they
*ot into the carriage again, and splashed and rattled
toward the White House. Once Virginia glanced out,
and catching sight of the bedraggled flags on the houses
in honor of Lee's surrender, a look of pain crossed her
face. The Captain could not repress 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 "
£M THE CRISIS
Virginia stared straight ahead.
w 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 its 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 was full of all sorts of people. Politicians, both pros-
perous and seedy, full faced and keen faced, seeking office 5
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.
M Have you got an appointment?" said the old man„
"No."
"Then youll have to wait your turn, sir," he saicl
shaking his head and looking at Virginia. And he added i
" 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 said0 And added,
with an inspiration, " I must see him* It's a matter of life
Mid death e"
She saw instantly* with a woman's instinct, that he?
IHE MAN OF SOKKOWS 505
words had 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 all 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 many
of the poor white trash farmers she had seen in Kentucky
— save for the long black coat.
" Is — is this Mr. Lincoln ? " she asked, 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."
506 THE CEISIS
"Miss Carvel," said the President, looking at her in-
tently, " I have rarely been so nattered in my life. I — X
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 corners of his eyes disturbed her
more and more. And then she saw that the President
was laughing. . ,». ^ io^ -u
"And have you a better name for it, Miss Carvel t _ ne
asked. " Because I am searching for a better name — just
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. In
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 Mormoi
war. One day the boys asked him over to the square t<
make a speech. The General was a little uneasy.
"'I'm all right when I get standing up, Liza, he sai(
to his wife. fc Then the words come right ^along. _ Onl;
trouble is they come too cussed fast. How'm I going t
stop 'em when I want to ? '
"'Well, I du declare, Buck,' said she, 'I gave yo
credit for some sense. All you've got to do is to se
iown. That'll end it, I reckon.'
" So the General went over to the square and talked tc
about an hour and a half, and then a Chicago man shoute
to him to dry up. The General looked pained.
"'Boys,' said he, 'it's jest every bit as bad for me as
is for you. You'll have to hand up a chair, boys, becaui
I'm never going to get shet of this goldarned speech ai
other way.' "
THE MAN OF SORROWS 601
Mr, Lincoln had told this so comically that Virginia
was forced to laugh, and she immediately hated herself.,
A man who could joke at such a time certainly could not
feel the cares and responsibilities of his office. He should
have been a comedian. And yet this was the President
who had conducted the war, whose generals had conquered
the Confederacy. And she was come to ask him a favor,
Virginia swallowed her pride.
" Mr. Lincoln," she began, " I have come to talk to you
about my cousin, Colonel Clarence Colfax."
" I shall be happy to talk to you about your cousin,
Colonel Colfax, Miss Carvel. Is he your third or fourth
cousin ? "
" He is my first cousin," she retorted.
" Is he in the city ? " asked Mr, Lincoln, innocently „
" Why didn't he come with you ? '
" Oh, haven't you heard ? " she cried. " He is Clarence
Colfax, of St. Louis, now a Colonel in the army of the
Confederate States."
" Which army ? " asked Mr. Lincoln.
Virginia tossed hei- head in exasperation*
" In General Joseph Johnston's army," she replied, try-
ing to be patient. " But now," she gulped, " now he has
been arrested as a spy by General Sherman's armyc."
" That's too bad," answered Mr. Lincoln.
"And — and they are going to shoot him.*5
"That's worse," said Mr. Lincoln, gravely. "But I
expect he deserves it."
" Oh, no, he doesn't," she cried. u You don5t know how
brave he is ! He floated down the Mississippi on a log5
out of Vicksburg, and brought back thousands and thou=
sands of percussion caps. He rowed across the river wheil
the Yankee fleet was going down, and set fire to De Soto
so that they could see to shoot."
"Weil," said Mr. Lincoln, "that's a good starter/'
Then he looked thoughtful,
* Miss Carvel," said he, " that argument reminds me of
.a story about a man I used to know in the old days in
lUlinois. His name was McNeil, and he was a lawyer.
508 THE CRISIS
One day he was defending a prisoner for assault and
battery before Judge 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.'
" 6 And if your honor does lock me up,' the prisoner put
in, 4 I'll give your honor a thunderin' big lickin' when I
get out.'
" The Judge took off his coat.
" ' Gentlemen,' said he, 4 it's a powerful queer argument,
but the 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 it.
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 something of an adept in dealing
with men.
"And now," said Mr. Lincoln, "to continue for the
defence, 1 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
Mm for it. I was merely elaborating the argument which
THE MAN OF SORROWS 5C9
you have begun. On the other hand, it is a pity that he
should have taken off that uniform which he adorned, and
attempted to enter General Sherman's lines as a civilian,
— asa spy."
He had spoken these last words very gently, but she was
too excited to heed his gentleness. She drew herself up, a
gleam in her eyes like the crest of a blue wave in a storm.
" A spy ! " she cried ; " it takes more courage to be a
spy than anything else in war. Then he will be shot.
You are not content in the North with what you have
gained. You are not content with depriving us of our
rights, and our fortunes, with forcing us back to an alle-
giance we despise. You are not content with humiliat-
ing our generals and putting innocent men in prisons,
But now I suppose you will shoot us all. And all 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 I 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 ! And the
sorrow in 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 light 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
Brice. 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
then she knew that she was crying softly to herself. She
had met a force that she coukl not conquer, she had looked
upon a sorrow that she could not fathom, albeit she had
known sorrow.
510 THE CRISIS
Presently she felt him near. She turned and looked
through her tears at his face that was all compassion.
And now she was unashamed. He had placed a chair
behind her.
" Sit down, Virginia," he said. Even the name fell from
him naturally.
She obeyed him then like a child. He remained
standing.
" 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 to 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 your name was given
to me, I sent for him. Perhaps he is in 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 ! He asked you to pardon him \
Who is he ? " she exclaimed.
Again Mr. Lincoln smiled. He strode 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 quickly into the room, and bowed
respectfully to the President. But Mr. Lincoln's eyes
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 did not rise.
The President sighed But the light in her eyes was
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.
"Major Brice," said Mr. Lincoln, "when you asked me
to pardon Colonel Colfax, I believe that you told me
THE MAN OF SORROWS 511
he was inside his own skirmish lines when he was cap*
tured."
"Yes, sir, he was*"
Suddenly Stephen turned, as if impelled by the Presi-
dent's gaze, and so his eyes met Virginia'sc He forgot
time and place, — for the while even this man whom he
revered above all men. He saw her hand tighten on the
arm of her chair. He took a step toward her, and stopped.
Mr0 Lincoln was speaking again.
" He put in a plea, a lawyer's plea, wholly unworthy of
him, Miss Virginia. He asked me to let your cousin off
on a technicality. What do you think of that ? "
" Oh ! " said Virginia. 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 rested on the President.
And now her wonder was that an ugly man could be so
beautiful.
" I wish it understood, Mr. Lawyer," the President con-
tinued, " that I am not letting off: Colonel Colfax on a
technicality. I am sparing his life," he said slowly,
:t because the time for which we have been waiting and
longing for four years is now at hand — the time to be
merciful. Let us all thank God for it."
Virginia 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
him— I had heard Major Brice praise youf Oh," she
cried, " how I wish that every man and woman and child
in 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.
M Virginia," said Mr. Lincoln* M I have not suffered by
'she South, I have suffered with the Souths Your sorrow
512 THE CEISIS
has been my sorrow, and your pain lias been my paim
What you have lost, I have lost. And what you have
gained," he added sublimely, "I have gained."
He led her gently to the window. The clouds were
flying before the wind, and a patch of blue sky shone
above the Potomac. With his long arm he pointed across
the river to the southeast, and as if by a miracle a shaft
of sunlight fell on the white houses of Alexandria.
" In the first days of the war," he said, " a flag flew
there in sight of the place where George Washington lived
and died. I used to watch that flag, and thank God that
Washington had not lived to see it. And sometimes, —
sometimes I wondered if God had allowed it to be put in
irony just there." His voice seemed to catch. "That
was wrong," he continued. " I should have known that
this was our punishment — that the sight-, of it was my
punishment. Before we could become the great nation
He has destined us to be, our sins must be wiped TJt in
blood. You loved that flag, Virginia. You love it still.
I say in all sincerity, may you always love it. May the
day come when this Nation, North and South, may look
back upon it with reverence. Thousands upon thousands
of brave Americans have died under it for what they
believed was right. But may the day come again when
you will love that flag you see there now — Washington's
flag — better still."
He stopped, and the tears were wet upon Virginia's
lashes. She could not have spoken then.
Mr. Lincoln went over to his desk and sat down before
it. Then he began to write, slouched forward, one knee
resting on the floor, his lips moving at the same time.
When he got up again he seemed taller than ever.
" There ! " he said, " I guess that will fix it. I'll have
that sent to Sherman. I have already spoken to him
about the matter."
They did not thank him. It was beyond them both.
He turned to Stephen with that quizzical look on his face
he had so often seen him wear.
" Steve," he said, " I'll tell you a story. The other night
£HE MAST OF SORROWS SUS
Harlan was here making a speech to a crowd out cf the
window, and my boy Tad was sitting behind him.
" ■ What shall we do with the Rebels ? * said Harlan to
the crowd.
" • Hang 'em ! ' cried the people.
"'No,' says Tad, 4hang on to 'em/
" And the boy was right. That is what we intend to
do, — hang on to 'em. And, Steve," said Mr. Lincoln,
putting his hand again en Virginia's shoulder, "if you
have the sense I think you have, you'll hang on, too."
For an instant he stood smiling at their blushes, — he
to whom the power was given to set apart his cares and
his troubles and partake of the happiness of others For
of such was his happiness.
Then the President drew out his watch. " Bless me ! n
he said, " I am ten minutes behind my appointment at the
Department Miss Virginia, you may care to 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, The smile passed from his face, and an ineffable
expression of longing — longing and tenderness — came
upon it.
Then he was gone.
For a space, while his spell was upon them, they did
not stir. Then Stephen sought her eyes that had beers
so long denied him. They were not denied him now.
It was Virginia who first found her voice, and she called
him by his name.
" Oh, Stephen," she said, "how sad he looked ! "
He was close to her, at her side. And he answered
her in the earnest tone which she knew so well.
" Virginia, if I could have had what I most wished foi
in 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 might
have known what he was. I had heard you talk of him
Be
514 THE CEISIS
I had seen him in you, and I did not know, Do you re-
member i;hat day when we were in the summer-house
together at Glencoe, 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 ! " 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 !
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 ! "
" 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 1
went about my work. I used to think 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 ? w
"Yes."
"To-morrow?"
" Yes, dear, to-morrow." Faintly, " I — I have no one
but you — now,"
THE MAN OF SORROWS 515
Once more he drew her to him, and she gloried in his
strength.
"God help me to cherish you, dear," he said, "and
guard you well."
She drew away from him, gently, and turned toward
the window.
" See, Stephen," she cried, " the sun has come out at
last."
For a while they were silent, looking out; the drops
glistened on blade and leaf, and the joyous new green cf
the earth entered into their heartSo
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
day 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
rusty 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 yellow afternoon light was
flooding now, even as then, checkered by the branches
in their first fringe of green. But 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 through the
silent house. A score of scenes in her great-grandfather's
A1STNAP0LIS 51?
life came to Virginia, Here was the room — the corner
one at the back of the main building, which looked
out over the deserted garden — that had been Richard's
mother's. She recalled how he had stolen into it on that
summer's day after his return, and had flung open the
shutters. They were open now, for their locks were off,
The prie-dieu was gone, and the dresser. But the high
bed was there, stripped of its poppy counterpane and
white curtains ; and the 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, was the roomy bed
on which the old gentleman had lain with the gout, while
Richard read to 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 tha sun
danced on the blue and white waters of the Chesapeake,
" Honey," said Virginia, as they stood in the deep recess
of the window, " wouldn't it be nice if we could live here
always, away from the world ? Just we two ! But you
would never be content to do that," she said, smiling re-
proachfully. " You are the kind of man who must be in
the midst of things. In a little while you will have far
more besides me to think about."
He was quick to catch the note of sadness in her voice*
And he drew her to him.
" We all have our duty to perform in the world, dear,'5
he answered. "It cannot be all pleasure."
"You — you Puritan!" she cried. "To think that 1
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 Whig, and seems to have married a woman
of spirit."
" She had spirit," said Virginia. MIam sure that she
did not allow my great-grandfather to kiss her — unless
she wanted tot"
§18 THE CRISIS
And she looked up at him, half smiling, half pouting,
altogether bewitching.
" From what I hear of him, he was something of a man/f
said Stephen. " Perhaps he did it anj^way."
"I am glad that Marlborough Street isn't a crowded
thoroughfare," said Virginia.
When they had seen the dining room, with its carved
(mantel and silver door-knobs, and the ballroom in the
wing, they came out, and Stephen locked the door again*
They walked around the house, and stood looking down
the terraces, — once stately, but crumbled now, — where
Dorothy had danced on the green on Richard's birthday0
Beyond and below was the spring-house, and there was
the placp 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 balustrade
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
coming up through the brown of last season's growth,
But in the grass the blue violets nestled, and Virginia
picked some of these and put them in Stephen's coat.
" You must keep them always," she said, " because we
got them here."
They spied a seat beside a hoary trunk. There on
many a spring day Lionel Carvel had sat reading his
Gazette. And there they rested now. The sun hung
low over the old-world gables in the street beyond the
wall, and in the level rays was an apple tree dazzling
i white, like 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 believed what you said, Stephen, But you were so
strong, so calm, so sure of yourself. I think that made
me angry when I thought how ridiculous I must have
been."
He pressed her hand.
" You were not ridiculous, Jinny. n
She laughed.
" I was not as ridiculous as Mr. Cluyme with his bronze
clock. But do you know what I had under my arm- —
what I was saving of all the things I owned ? "
"No," he answered; "but I have often wondered."
She blushed.
" This house — - this place made me think of it. It was
Dorothy Manners's gown, and her necklace, I could not
leave them. They were all the remembrance I had of
that night at Mr. Brinsmade's gate, when we came so near
to each other."
" Virginia," he said, " some force that we cannot under-
stand has brought us together, some force that we could
not hinder. It is foolish for me to say so, but on that day
of the slave auction, when I first saw you, I had a pre-
monition about you that I have never admitted until now,
even to myself."
She started.
" Why, Stephen,59 she cried, "I felt the same way \ n
"And then," he continued quickly, "it was strange
that I should have gone to Judge Whipple, who was
an intimate of your father's — such a singular intimate.
And then came your party, and Glencoe, and that curious
incident at the Fair."
" When I was talking to the Prince, and looked up and
saw you among all those people."
He laughed.
" That was the most uncomfortable of all, for me "
** Stephen," she said, stirring the leaves at her feet,
m j^- might have taken me in your arms the night Judge
Whipple died — if you had wanted to. But you were
strong enough to resist I love you all the more for that/'
Again she said 2 —
520 THE CRISIS
" It was through your mother, dearest, that we were
most strongly drawn together. I worshipped her from
the day I saw her in the hospital. I believe that was the
beginning of my charity toward the North."
" My mother would have chosen you above all women,
Virginia," he answered.
* * * * * * *
In the morning came to them the news of Abraham
Lincoln's 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 martyr on the very day of Christ's death upon the
cross. And they believed that Abraham Lincoln gave
his life for his country even as Christ gave his for the
world.
And so must we believe that God has reserved for this
Nation 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, ivith charity for all, with firm-
ness in the right as God gives us to see the right, let us strive
onto finish the work we are in, to bind up the nation s wounds
to care for him who shall have borne the battle, and for his
widow and his children — to do all which may achieve and
cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselves and with ah
nations"
AFTERWORD
The author has chosen St. Louis for the principal
scene of this story for many reasons. Grant and Sher-
man were living there before the Civil War, and Abraham
Lincoln was an unknown lawyer in the neighboring state
of Illinois. It has been one of the aims of this book to
show the remarkable contrasts in the lives of these great
men who came out of the West. This old city of St.
Louis, which was founded by Laclede in 1765, likewise
became the principal meeting-place of two great streams
of emigration which had been separated, more or less, since
Cromwell's day. To be sure, they were not all Cavaliers
who settled in the tidewater Colonies. There were Puri-
tan settlements in both Maryland and Virginia. But the
life in the Southern states took on the more liberal tinge
which had characterized that of the Royalists, even to the
extent of affecting the Scotch Calvinists, while the asceti-
cism of the Roundheads was the keynote of the Puritan
character in New England. When this great country of
ours began to develop, the streams moved westward ; one
over what became the plain states of Ohio and Indiana and
Illinois, and the other across the Blue Ridge Mountains into
Kentucky and Tennessee. They mixed along the line of
the Ohio River. They met at St. Louis, and, farther
west, in Kansas.
Nor can the German element in St. Louis be ignored.
The part played by this people in the Civil War is a mat-
ter of history. The scope of this book has not permitted
the author to introduce the peasantry and trading classes
which formed the mass in this movement. But Richter,
the type of the university-bred revolutionist which emi-
grated after '48, is drawn more or less from life. And
the duel described actually took place in Berlin.
St. Louis is the author's birthplace, and his home,--^
621
m THE CEISIS
tlie home of those friends whom he has known from chilcU
hood and who have always treated him with unfaltering
kindness. He begs that they will believe him when he
says that only such characters as he loves are reminiscent
of those he has known there. The city has a large popu-
lation, — large enough to include all the types that are tc
be found in the middle West.
One word more. This book is written of a time when
feeling 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.
There 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-
Printed in the United States of America.
"?/■ q^f ,o84, total's