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+The Project Gutenberg Ebook The Crisis, Volume 1, by Winston Churchill
+WC#51 in our series by Winston Churchill (USA author, not Sir Winston)
+
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+
+Title: The Crisis, Volume 1.
+
+Author: Winston Churchill (USA author, not Sir Winston Churchill)
+
+Release Date: March, 2004  [EBook #5388]
+[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
+[This file was first posted on June 28, 2002]
+
+Edition: 10
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+
+
+
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CRISIS, V1, BY CHURCHILL ***
+
+
+
+This eBook was produced by David Widger <widger@cecomet.net>
+
+
+
+[NOTE: There is a short list of bookmarks, or pointers, at the end of the
+file for those who may wish to sample the author's ideas before making an
+entire meal of them.  D.W.]
+
+
+
+
+
+THE CRISIS
+
+By Winston Churchill
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+BOOK I
+
+Volume 1.
+I.        Which Deals With Origins
+II.       The Mole
+III.      The Unattainable Simplicity
+IV.       Black Cattle
+V.        The First Spark Passes
+VI.       Silas Whipple
+VII.      Callers
+
+Volume 2.
+VIII.     Bellegarde
+IX.       A Quiet Sunday in Locust Street
+X.        The Little House
+XI.       The Invitation
+XII.      "Miss Jinny"
+XIII.     The Party
+
+
+BOOK II.
+
+Volume 3.
+I.        Raw Material.
+II.       Abraham Lincoln
+III.      In Which Stephen Learns Something
+IV.       The Question
+V.        The Crisis
+VI.       Glencoe
+
+Volume 4.
+VII.      An Excursion
+VIII.     The Colonel is Warned
+IX.       Signs of the Times
+X.        Richter's Scar,
+XI.       How a Prince Came
+XII.      Into Which a Potentate Comes
+XIII.     At Mr. Brinsmade's Gate
+XIV.      The Breach becomes Too Wide
+XV.       Mutterings
+
+Volume 5.
+XVI.      The Guns of Sumter
+XVII.     Camp Jackson
+XVIII.    The Stone that is Rejected
+XIX.      The Tenth of May.
+XX.       In the Arsenal
+XXI.      The Stampede
+XXII.     The Straining of Another Friendship
+XXIII.    Of Clarence
+
+
+BOOK III
+
+Volume 6.
+I.        Introducing a Capitalist
+II.       News from Clarence
+III.      The Scourge of War,
+IV.       The List of Sixty
+V.        The Auction
+VI.       Eliphalet Plays his Trumps
+
+Volume 7.
+VII.      With the Armies of the West
+VIII.     A Strange Meeting
+IX.       Bellegarde Once More
+X.        In Judge Whipple's Office
+XI.       Lead, Kindly Light
+
+Volume 8.
+XII.      The Last Card
+XIII.     From the Letters of Major Stephen Brice
+XIV.      The Same, Continued
+XV.       The Man of Sorrows
+XVI.      Annapolis
+
+
+
+
+THE CRISIS
+
+BOOK I
+
+Volume 1.
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+WHICH DEALS WITH ORIGINS
+
+Faithfully to relate how Eliphalet Hopper came try St. Louis is to betray
+no secret.  Mr. Hopper is wont to tell the story now, when his daughter-
+in-law is not by; and sometimes he tells it in her presence, for he is a
+shameless 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 herself), 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 he stands in the prow of
+the great steamboat 'Louisiana' of a scorching summer morning, and looks
+with something of a nameless disquiet on the chocolate waters of the
+Mississippi.  There have been other sights, since passing Louisville,
+which might have disgusted a Massachusetts 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 temperament.  The deck was
+dark, and the smell of the wretches confined there was worse than it
+should have been.  And the incessant weeping of some of the women was
+annoying, inasmuch as it drowned many of the profane communications 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 undesirable quality.  He
+began to wonder how it would feel to own a few of these valuable fellow-
+creatures.  He reached out and touched lightly a young mulatto woman who
+sat beside him with an infant in her arms.  The peculiar dumb expression
+on her face was lost on Eliphalet.  The overseer had laughed coarsely.
+
+"What, skeered on 'em?" said he.  And seizing the girl by the cheek, gave
+it a cruel twinge that brought a cry out of her.
+
+Eliphalet had reflected upon this incident after he had bid the overseer
+good-by at Cairo, and had seen that pitiful 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 m the summer air.  A long line of steamboats--
+white, patient animals--was tethered along the levee, and the Louisiana
+presently 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-bolt.  Admiration burst from the passengers, and one man cried
+out Captain Brent's age--it was thirty-two.
+
+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
+servants, 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
+importance 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 aroused in him some
+sense of his atomity, where the sight of the pillar of smoke and of the
+black cattle had failed.  the feeling of a stranger in a strange land was
+upon him at last.  A strange land, indeed!  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 door 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
+fashion of the day for men of his age, in a black coat with a teal of
+ruffled shirt showing, and a heavy black stock 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 its 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, Massachusetts."
+
+"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 whirlwind which has swept by.  But
+Eliphalet did not stir.
+
+"Friends in town?" inquired the gentleman at length.
+
+"No, sir," sighed Mr. Hopper.
+
+At this point of the conversation a crisp step sounded from behind and
+wonderful smile came again on the surface.
+
+"Mornin', Colonel," said a voice which made Eliphalet jump.  And he swung
+around to perceive the young captain of the Louisiana.
+
+"Why, Captain Lige," cried the Colonel, without ceremony, "and how do you
+find yourself to-day, suh?  A good trip from Orleans?  We did not look
+for you so soon."
+
+"Tolluble, Colonel, tolluble," 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" cried the Colonel, diving toward a counter where glasses were set
+out,--a custom new to Eliphalet,--"Ephum, some of that very particular
+Colonel Crittenden 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 comin'," said
+he, with the privilege of an old servant.  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," replied the Captain.  "But, Ephum Say, Ephum!"
+
+"Yes, sah."
+
+"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 disappointment 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."
+
+"Bless her pretty face," cried the Captain.  "Her 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.
+
+"Over half a century," said Colonel Carvel.
+
+"If it came from the ruins of Pompeii," cried Captain Brent, "it might be
+worthy of her!"
+
+"What an idiot you are about that child, Lige," said the Colonel, who was
+not hiding his pleasure.  The Colonel could hide nothing.
+"You ruin her!"
+
+The bluff young Captain put down his glass to laugh.
+
+"Ruin her!" he exclaimed.  "Her pa don't ruin her I eh, Ephum?  Her pa
+don't ruin her!"
+
+"Lawsy, Marse Lige, I reckon he's wuss'n any."
+
+"Ephum," said the Colonel, pulling his goatee thoughtfully, "you're a
+damned impertinent nigger.  I vow I'll sell you South one of these days.
+Have you taken that letter to Mr. Renault?"  He winked at his friend as
+the old darkey faded into the darkness of the store, and continued: "Did
+I ever tell you about Wilson Peale's portrait 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!  She was
+the queen-bee of the family while she lived.  I wish some of us had her
+spirit."
+
+"Colonel," remarked Captain Lige, "what's this I heard on the levee just
+now about your shootin' at a man named Babcock on the steps here?"
+
+The Colonel became very grave.  His face seemed to grow longer as he
+pulled his goatee.
+
+"He was standing right where yon are, sir," he replied (Captain Lige
+moved), "and he proposed that I should buy his influence."
+
+"What did you do?"
+
+Colonel Carvel laughed quietly at the recollection
+
+"Shucks," said he, "I just pushed him into the streets 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?  Somehow 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 made the sons of Ham the
+servants of Japheth's sons forever and forever."
+
+"Well, well, we won't quarrel about that, sir," said Brent, quickly.
+"If they 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 employment.  Isn't that
+so, sonny?"  asked the Colonels kindly.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Come, Lige, would you take him?" said Mr. Carvel.
+
+The young Captain looked into Eliphalet's face.  The dart that shot from
+his eyes was of an aggressive honesty; 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 Captair 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!'
+
+"I reckon you're a rank abolitionist," said he to Eliphalet, abruptly.
+
+"I don't see any particular harm in keepin' slaves," Mr. Hopper replied,
+shifting to the other foot.
+
+Whereupon the Colonel stretched his legs apart, seized his goatee, pulled
+his head down, and gazed at him for some time from under his eyebrows, so
+searchingly that the blood flew to Mr. Hopper's fleshy face.  He mopped
+it with a dark-red handkerchief, stared at everything in the place save
+the gentleman in front of him, and wondered whether he had ever in his
+life been so uncomfortable.  Then he smiled sheepishly, hated himself,
+and began to hate the Colonel.
+
+"Ever hear of the Liberator?"
+
+"No, sir," said Mr. Hopper.
+
+"Where do you come from?"  This was downright directness, from which
+there was no escape.
+
+"Willesden, Massachusetts."
+
+"Umph!  And never heard of Mr. Garrison?"
+
+"I've had to work all my life."
+
+"What can you do, sonny?"
+
+"I cal'late 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, "seven dollars a week."
+
+Many a time in after life had the Colonel reason to think over this
+scene.  He was a man the singleness of whose motives could not be
+questioned.  The one and sufficient reason for giving work to a homeless
+boy, from the hated state of the Liberator, was charity.  The Colonel had
+his moods, like many another worthy man.
+
+The small specks on the horizon sometimes grow into the hugest of thunder
+clouds.  And an act of charity, out of the wisdom of God, may produce on
+this earth either good or evil.
+
+Eliphalet closed with the bargain.  Ephum was called and told to lead
+the recruit to the 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
+(aetat 25), to the effect that he, Eliphalet Hopper, was a Pierce
+Democrat, who looked with complacency on the extension of slavery.  This
+was wholly satisfactory, and saved the owner of these sentiments a broken
+head.  The other time Eliphalet spoke was to ask Mr. Barbo to direct him
+to a boardinghouse.
+
+"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
+to all New Englanders, comical to Barbo.  The two contestants calculated.
+Barbo reckoned, and put his money on 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 preliminary 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 calculate you know the
+Salters."
+
+If the truth were known, this evidence of an apparent omniscience rather
+staggered Eliphalet.  But training stood by him, and he showed no dismay.
+Yes, he knew the Salters, and had drawed many a load out of Hiram
+Salters' wood-lot to help pay for his schooling.
+
+"Let me see," said Miss Crane, innocently; "who was it one of them
+Salters girls married, and lived across the way from the meetin'-house?"
+
+"Spauldin'," was the prompt reply.
+
+"Wal, I want t' know!" cried the spinster: "not Ezra Spauldin'?"
+
+Eliphalet nodded.  That nod was one of infinite shrewdness which
+commended itself to Miss Crane.  These courtesies, 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 consternation.
+
+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 complain of her table,
+
+Eliphalet said he guessed he'd have to go somewhere else.  Upon this the
+lady vouchsafed the explanation that those gentlemen had high positions
+and rented her large rooms.  Since Mr. Hopper was from Willesden and knew
+the Salters, she would be willing to take him for less.  Eliphalet said
+bluntly he would give three and a half.  Barbo gasped.  This particular
+kind of courage was wholly beyond him.
+
+Half an hour later Eliphalet carried his carpet-bag up three flights and
+put it down in a tiny bedroom under the eaves, still pulsing with heat
+waves.  Here he was to live, and eat at Miss Crane's table for the
+consideration of four dollars a week.
+
+
+Such is the story of the humble beginning of one substantial prop of the
+American Nation.  And what a hackneyed 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 wonderland of Kentucky.  And through the marvels of the
+Inland Seas, and by white conestogas threading flat forests and floating
+over wide prairies, until the two tides met in a maelstrom as fierce as
+any in the great tawny torrent of the strange Father of Waters.  A city
+founded by Pierre Laclede, a certain adventurous subject of Louis who
+dealt in furs, and who knew not Marly or Versailles, was to be the place
+of the mingling of the tides.  After cycles of separation, Puritan and
+Cavalier united on this clay-bank in 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
+attended Mr. Davitt's Congregational Church.  And may it be added in
+justice to Mr. Hopper, that he became not the least devout of the
+boarders.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER. II
+
+THE MOLE
+
+For some years, while Stephen A. Douglas and Franklin Pierce and other
+gentlemen of prominence were playing 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 Eliphalet'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 is 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 likewise 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 to declare whether or not he was a friend
+of the Divine Institution.  After a while they forgot about him (all 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, unpretentious, 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 ware invariably astonished, after their guest was gone, at the
+meagre result of their inquiries.
+
+If Love had ever entered such a discreet soul as that into which we are
+prying, he used a back entrance.  Even Mr. Barbo's inquiries failed in
+the discovery of any young person with whom Eliphalet "kept company."
+Whatever the notions abroad concerning him, he was admittedly a model.
+There are many kinds of models.  With some young ladies at the Sunday
+School, indeed, he had a distant 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 sombre in hue, as befit
+such grave creations.
+
+Let us go back to a certain fine morning in the September 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 delectable 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 surveyed it with dismay.
+
+"Clar t' goodness, Miss Jinny, yo' pa ain't heah!  An' 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 displeasure in her face.
+
+"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 meaning glance at the
+negress.
+
+"Laws, Miss Jinny," cried she, "I may's 'ell find Ephum.  I knows he's
+loafin' somewhar hereabouts.  An' I ain't seed him dese five month."  And
+she started for the back of 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 Virginia 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 upon her cheek, and laughter was
+dancing in her eyes yet she did not move.  The young man took a step
+forward, 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.
+
+"You've no right to treat me the way you do, Virginia," he cried.  "Why
+didn't you let me know that you were coming home?"  His tone was one of
+authority.  You didn't come from Kentucky alone!"
+
+"I had plenty of attendance, I assure you," said Miss Carvel.
+"A governor, and a senator, and two charming young gentlemen from New
+Orleans as far as Cairo, where I found Captain Lige's boat.  And Mr.
+Brinsmade brought me here to the store.  I wanted to surprise Pa," she
+continued rapidly, to head off the young gentleman's expostulations.
+"How mean of him not to be here!"
+
+"Allow me to escort you home," said he, with ceremony:
+
+"Allow me to decline the honah, Mr. Colfax," she cried, imitating him.
+"I intend to wait here until Pa comes in."
+
+Then Eliphalet knew that the young gentleman was Miss Virginia's first
+cousin.  And it seemed to him that he had heard a rumor, amongst the
+clerks in the store; that she was to marry him one day.
+
+"Where is Uncle Comyn?" demanded Mr. Colfax, swinging his cane with
+impatience.
+
+Virgina looked hard at Mr. Hopper.
+
+"I don't know," she said.
+
+"Ephum!" shouted Mr. Colfax.  "Ephum!  Easters where the deuce is that
+good-for-nothing husband of yours?"
+
+"I dunno, Marse Clarence.  'Spec he whah he oughtn't ter be."
+
+Mr. Colfax spied the stooping figure of Eliphalet.
+
+"Do you work here?" he demanded.
+
+"I callate."
+
+"What?"
+
+"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 continued, 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 inconsiderate man told me,
+or I should not have seen you today.  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
+unconcern which deceived so many of the undiscerning.
+
+"This person, sir, refused to do a favor for your daughter.  She told
+him, and I told him, to notify Mr. Hood that Miss Carvel was here, and
+he refused."
+
+Mr. Hopper continued his occupation, which was absorbing.  But he was
+listening.
+
+Colonel Carvel pulled his goatee, and smiled.
+
+"Clarence," said he, "I reckon I can run this establishment 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 evening, in conversation with Mr.
+Hood about a certain customer 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; 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 anon
+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.  Eliphalet had
+inherited the principle of mathematical chances.  It is a fact that the
+discreet 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
+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?"
+
+"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 excitable 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-contained reply.
+
+"Alphonse!"  cried Mr. Renault, "Alphonse!"  A door opened in the back
+wall.  "Du vin pour Monsieur le Capitaine."
+
+"Oui, M'sieu."
+
+Eliphalet was too frightened to wonder why this taciturn handler of wood
+was called Captain, and treated with such respect.
+
+"Guess I won't take any wine to-night, Mr. Renault," 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 crime.  And indeed,
+with many of us, it is humiliation and not conscience which makes the
+sting.  He walked out to the end of the city's growth westward, where the
+new houses were going up.  He had reflected coolly on consequences, and
+found there were none to speak of.  Many a moralist, Mr. Davitt included,
+would have shaken his head at this.  Miss Crane's whole Puritan household
+would have raised their hands in horror at such a doctrine.
+
+Some novelists I know of, who are in reality celebrated surgeons in
+disguise, would have shown a good part of Mr. Eliphalet Hopper's mental
+insides in as many words as I have taken to chronicle his arrival in St.
+Louis.  They invite us to attend a clinic, and the horrible skill with
+which they wield the scalpel holds us spellbound.  For God has made all
+of us, rogue and saint, burglar and burgomaster, marvellously alike.  We
+read a patent medicine circular and shudder with seven diseases.  We
+peruse one of Mr. So and So's intellectual tonics and are sure we are
+complicated scandals, fearfully and wonderfully 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 sensitive.  He was
+calm enough when he got back to the boarding-house, which he found in as
+high a pitch of excitement as New Englanders ever reach.
+
+And over what?
+
+Over the prospective arrival that evening of the Brices, 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, triumphantly,--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 you, Eliza Reed.  You
+never had any clothes."
+
+Mrs. Reed's strength was her imperturbability.
+
+"And you never set eyes on the Brice house, opposite the Common, with the
+swelled front?  I'd like to find out where you were a-visitin'.  And
+you've never heard tell of the Brice homestead, at Westbury, that was
+Colonel Wilton Brice's, who fought in the Revolution?  I'm astonished at
+you, Mirandy.  When I used to be at the Dales', in Mount Vernon Street,
+in thirty-seven, Mrs. Charles Atterbury Brice used to come there in her
+carriage, a-callin'.  She was Appleton's mother.  Severe!  Save us,"
+exclaimed Mrs. Reed, "but she was stiff as starched crepe.  His father
+was minister to France.  The Brices were in the India trade, and they had
+money enough to buy the whole of St. Louis."
+
+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!  Well, Appleton Brice
+didn't have the family brains, ands he was kind of soft-hearted.  I've
+heard Mehitabel Dale 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 gain' 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.  "How many friends
+has he?"
+
+"Those he has are warm enough," Miss Crane retorted.  "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
+possessions 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 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 evening,--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 possess it (but this is not
+generally known).  Mrs. Brice was so natural, that first evening at tea,
+that all were disappointed.  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 bewailing 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 confessed her disappointment to the
+confiding ear of her bosom friend, Mrs. Merrill.  Not many years later a
+man named 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 happen.  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 arrogant 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 confess 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 confessed 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 evening.  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 inherited
+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 it.
+
+Her son had the air of the college-bred.  In these surroundings he
+escaped arrogance by the wonderful kindliness 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 generations,
+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 the 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, certainly 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
+makin' a pile, I guess."
+
+"A what?"
+
+"A pile."
+
+Stephen looked down and over Mr. Hopper attentively.  He took in the
+blocky shoulders and the square head, and he pictured the little eyes at
+a vanishing-point in lines of a bargain.  Then humor blessed humor--came
+to his rescue.  He had entered the race in the West, where all start
+equal.  He had come here, like this man who was succeeding, to make his
+living.  Would he succeed?
+
+Mr. Hopper drew something out of his pocket, eyed Miss Crane, and bit off
+a corner.
+
+"What office was you going into?"  he asked genially.  Mr. Brice decided
+to answer that.
+
+"Judge Whipple's--unless he has changed his mind."  Eliphalet gave him a
+look more eloquent than words.
+
+"Know the Judge?"
+
+Silent laughter.
+
+"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 callate 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 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 friends, 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 her chair, his hands clasped
+playfully beneath her chin.
+
+"Have you the exact date about you, mother?"
+
+"What date, Stephen?"
+
+"When I shall leave St. Louis for the United States Senate.  And you must
+not forget that there is a youth limit in our Constitution for senators."
+
+Then the widow smiled,--a little sadly, perhaps.  But still a wonderfully
+sweet smile.  And it made her strong face akin to all that was human and
+helpful.
+
+"I believe that you have the subject of my first speech in that august
+assembly.  And, by the way, what was it?"
+
+"It was on 'The Status of the Emigrant,'" she responded instantly,
+thereby proving that she was his mother.
+
+"And it touched the Rights of Privacy," he added, laughing, "which do not
+seem to exist in St. Louis boarding-houses."
+
+"In the eyes of your misguided profession, statesmen and authors and
+emigrants and other public charges have no Rights of Privacy," said she.
+"Mr. Longfellow told me once that they were to name a brand of flour for
+him, and that he had no redress."
+
+"Have you, too, been up before Miss Crane's Commission?" he asked, with
+amused interest.
+
+His mother laughed.
+
+"Yes," she said quietly.
+
+"They have some expert members," he continued.  "This Mrs. Abner Reed
+could be a shining light in any bar.  I overheard a part of her cross-
+examination.  She--she had evidently studied our case--"
+
+"My dear," answered Mrs. Brice, "I suppose they know all about us."  She
+was silent a moment, I had so hoped that they wouldn't.  They lead the
+same narrow life in this house that they did in their little New England
+towns.  They--they pity us, Stephen."
+
+"Mother!"
+
+"I did not expect to find so many New Englanders here--I wish that Mr.
+Whipple had directed us elsewhere-"
+
+"He probably thought that we should feel at home among New Englanders.  I
+hope the Southerners will be more considerate.  I believe they will," he
+added.
+
+"They are very proud," said his mother.  "A wonderful people,--born
+aristocrats.  You don't remember those Randolphs with whom we travelled
+through England.  They were with us at Hollingdean, Lord Northwell's
+place.  You were too small at the time.  There was a young girl, Eleanor
+Randolph, a beauty.  I shall never forget the 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."
+
+"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 pursued with such
+relentlessness by rascally politicians."
+
+"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 Massachusetts 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 aggressive 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 in wishing to have it said
+that a certain Senator and Judge Brice was trained in his office."
+
+"Stephen--you goose!" she said.
+
+Her eye wandered around the room,--Widow Crane's best bedroom.  It was
+dimly lighted by an extremely 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.
+
+"And mother?"
+
+"Yes, dear."
+
+He put his hands in his pockets and walked over to the window.
+
+"I think that it would be better if I did the same thing."
+
+"What do you mean, my son--"
+
+"If I went to work,--started sweeping out a store, I mean.  See here,
+mother, you've sacrificed enough for me already.  After paying father's
+debts, we've come out here with only a few thousand dollars, and the nine
+hundred I saved out of this year's Law School allowance.  What shall we
+do when that is gone?  The honorable legal profession, as my friend
+reminded me to-night, is not the swiftest road to millions."
+
+With a mother's discernment she guessed the agitation, he was striving to
+hide; she knew that he had been gathering 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.
+
+Widow passed her hand over her brow.  It was a space before she answered
+him.
+
+"My son," she said, let us never speak of this again:
+
+"It was your father's dearest wish that you should become a lawyer and--
+and his wishes are sacred God will take care of us."
+
+She rose and kissed him good-night.
+
+"Remember, my dear, when you go to Judge Whipple in the morning, remember
+his kindness, and--."
+
+"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 manning 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
+bandied with velvet, even though the animal had been a friend of his
+father.  Dragons as a rule have had a hard rime 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 Market 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 above his head.  But he was
+struck dumb on beholding, instead of a dragon, a good-natured young man
+who smiled a broad welcome.  The 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
+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 appearance.  That caught Stephen's eye, and held it.  He wondered
+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 usually showed.  And he felt, whatever the Judge might be,
+that he had a powerful friend near at hand--Mr. Richter'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 Washington 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 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 misery and the dumb
+heart-aches of those days!  Stephen thought with agony of seeing his own
+mother sold before his eyes, and the building in front of him was lifted
+from its foundation and rocked even as shall the temples on the judgment
+day.
+
+The oily auctioneer 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, Samson's strength to break the pillars
+of the temple to slay these men with his bare hands.  Seven generations
+of stern life and thought had their focus here in him,--from Oliver
+Cromwell to John Brown.
+
+Stephen was far from prepared for the storm that raged within him.  He
+had not been brought up an Abolitionist--far from it.  Nor had his
+father'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 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 "agitators."  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 an menacing, he teased and exhorted them
+to buy.  The 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 then: from a last embrace.
+
+Three--four were sold while Stephen was in a dream
+
+Then came a lull, a hitch, and the crowd began to chatter gayly.  But the
+misery in front of him held Stephen in a spell.  Figures stood out from
+the group.  A white-haired patriarch, with eyes raised to the sky; a
+flat-breasted woman whose child was gone, whose weakness made her
+valueless.  Then two girls were pushed forth, one a quadroon of great
+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 came 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 unrepressed.  "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 niggers will go too, and they'd rather go to hell.  They do
+treat 'em nefarious down 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.
+
+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, "t'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.  Mistah 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 suffering 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), "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 sat with her bandanna awry.
+
+Stephen 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 Furniture, 20 Second Street."  And still
+he stared at Stephen, as one who gazes upon a mystery.  A few curious
+pedestrians had stopped in front of them.
+
+"Get her away, if you can, for God's sake," said Stephen again. And he
+strode off toward the people at the auction.  He was trembling.  In his
+eagerness to reach a place of vantage before the girl was sold, he pushed
+roughly into the crowd.
+
+But suddenly he was brought up short by the blocky body of Mr. Hopper,
+who grunted with the force of the impact.
+
+"Gosh," said that gentleman, "but you are inters'ted.  They ain't begun
+to sell her yet--he's waitin' for somebody.  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 Brice. He approved of
+any man from Boston who was not too squeamish to take pleasure in a
+little affair of this kind.
+
+As for Stephen, Mr. Hopper brought him back to earth. He ceased
+trembling, and began to think.
+
+"Tarnation!" said Eliphalet. "There's my boss, Colonel Carvel across the
+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 the 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 betrayed his purpose, or made
+a question of his sanity.
+
+Sanity!  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! There were tears upon her lashes.
+
+Here was the rasp of the auctioneer's voice:--
+
+"Gentlemen, I reckon there ain't never been offered to bidders such an
+opportunity as this heah.  Look at her well, gentlemen.  I ask you, ain't
+she a splendid creature?"
+
+Colonel Carvel, in annoyance, started to move on.  "Come Jinny," he said,
+"I had no business to bring you aver."
+
+But Virginia caught his arm.  "Pa," she cried, "it's Mr. Benbow's
+Hester.  Don't go, dear.  Buy her for me You know that I always wanted
+her.  Please!"
+
+The Colonel halted, irresolute, and pulled his goatee Young Colfax
+stepped in between them.
+
+"I'll buy her for you, Jinny.  Mother promised you a present, you know,
+and you shall have her."
+
+Virginia had calmed.
+
+"Do buy her, one of you," was all she said
+
+"You may do the bidding, Clarence," said the Colonel, "and we'll settle
+the ownership afterward."  Taking Virginia's arm, he escorted her across
+the street.
+
+Stephen was left in a quandary.  Here was a home for the girl, and a good
+one.  Why should me spend the money which meant so much to him.  He saw
+the man Jenkin 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 'tin 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 Jenkins.  He knows what
+she's worth to a cent.  What'll you give, Alf?  Is it eight hundred?"
+
+Mr. Jenkins winked at the auction joined in the laugh.
+
+"Three hundred!" he said.
+
+The auctioneer was mortally offended.  Then some one 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 conspicuous position.
+
+"Three seventy-five!"
+
+"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 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.  Apparently 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 reprehensible.  But second he thought of Mr. Canter and
+of 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 him, and 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 bliss 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 without bitterness.  Then he
+wheeled to face Mr. Jerkins.  Out of respect for the personages involved,
+the auctioneer had been considerately silent daring 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. Jerkins, now, suh!  we've got twenty me' to sell."
+
+"Eight fifty!" said Mr. Jerkins.
+
+"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. Jerkins 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 Louisville 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. Jerkins, 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.
+
+"Handle her gently, you blackguard," 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 twinkle 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 deed.
+
+"Name, please!"
+
+"Stephen Atterbury Brice."
+
+"Residence, Mr. Brice!"
+
+Stephen gave the number.  But instead of writing it clown, 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 Mr. Brice's discomfiture.
+
+"Shucks!" said the fat man, as soon as he could.
+
+"What are you givin' us?  That the's a Yankee boa'din' house."
+
+"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
+explosion.  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 Appleton Brice of Boston the owner of a
+beautiful quadroon girl!  And he had bought hex with his last cent.
+
+Miss Crane herself opened the door in answer to his 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.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+SILAS WHIPPLE
+
+The trouble with many narratives is that they tell too much.  Stephen's
+interview with his mother was a quiet affair, and not historic.  Miss
+Crane's boarding-house is not an interesting place, and the tempest in
+that teapot is better imagined than described.  Out of 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 ascended.  The ascent required courage now,
+certainly.  He halted again before the door at the top.  But even as he
+stood there came to him, in low, rich tones, the notes of a German song.
+He entered And Mr. Richter rose in shirt-sleeves from his desk to greet
+him, all smiling.
+
+"Ach, my friend!" said he, "but you are late.  The Judge has been
+awaiting you."
+
+"Has he?" inquired Stephen, with ill-concealed anxiety.
+
+The big young German patted him on the shoulder.
+
+Suddenly a voice roared from out the open transom of the private office,
+like a cyclone through a gap.
+
+"Mr. Richter!"
+
+"Sir!"
+
+"Who is that?"
+
+"Mr. Brice, sir."
+
+"Then why in thunder doesn't he come in?"
+
+Mr. Richter opened the private door, and in Stephen walked.  The door
+closed again, and there he was in the dragon's dens face to face with the
+dragon, who was staring 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, 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 apparent 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, bringing 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 immemorial it has been the pleasant habit
+of old communities 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.
+
+"Why didn't your mother let me know that she was 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 recollection of each act of the morning hung like a
+cloud over the back of his head.  Therefore the first sheet of legal cap
+was spoiled utterly.  But Stephen had a deep sense of failure.  He had
+gone through the ground glass door 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 lines of Mr. 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, 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 Judge.  Then he said.
+
+"Carvel, 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?" 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 weren't at the auction, then," continued the Colonel, undisturbed.
+"You missed it, sir.  You missed seeing this young man you've just
+employed buy the prettiest quadroon wench I ever set eyes on."
+
+Now indeed was poor Stephen on his feet.  But whether to fly in at the
+one entrance or out at the other, he was undecided.
+
+"Colonel," said Mr. Whipple, "is that true?"
+
+"Sir!"
+
+"MR. BRICE!"
+
+It did not seem to Stephen as if he was walking when he went toward the
+ground glass door.  He opened it.  There was Colonel Carvel seated on the
+bed, his goatee in his hand.  And there was the Judge leaning forward
+from his hips, straight as a ramrod.  Fire was darting from beneath his
+bushy eyebrows.  "Mr. Brice," said he, "there is one question I always
+ask of those whom I employ.  I omitted it in your case because I have
+known your father and your grandfather before you.  What is your opinion,
+sir, on the subject of holding human 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 chin cover his mouth.
+
+"Good God, sir!" cried the Judge, and he sat down heavily.  "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 locked 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 hire
+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 somebody 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.
+
+"Mr. Brice," said the Judge, at length, "take off your coat, sir I will
+go her bond."
+
+It was Stephen's turn to be taken aback.  He stood regarding 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 some 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 necessary 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 Summer.  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.
+
+"I am sure that you do them an injustice, sir," he said, with more
+feeling them 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 may father's
+friends were by no means wealthy.  And I know that if he had been poor he
+would have held the same views."
+
+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 conservative 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.  Furthermore, he
+recognized that the economic conditions in the South make slavery
+necessary to prosperity.  And he regarded the covenant made between
+the states of the two sections as sacred."
+
+There was a brief silence, during which the uncompromising 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 VII
+
+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 Deed, 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!" 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 more he stopped before her.
+
+"We are at least a year nearer the poor-house," he said; "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 handkerchief 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!"
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"Ain' you gwineter' low Hester an' me to wuk fo' you?"
+
+"Indeed I should be glad to, Nancy.  But we are boarding."
+
+"Yassm, yassm," said Nancy, and relapsed into awkward 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 rose and unlocked the
+trunks.
+
+"You may unpack them, Nancy," she said.
+
+With what alacrity did the old woman take off her black bonnet and shawl!
+"Whaffor 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 had both been through that
+day.
+
+"Tired!" said Nancy, holding up her hands.  "No'm, she ain' tired.  She
+des kinder stupefied by you' goodness, Mis' Brice."
+
+A scene was saved by the appearance of Miss Crane's hired girl.
+
+"Mr. and Mrs. Cluyme, 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 she 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, '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 evidently expecting no
+answer.
+
+"Well," said he, "what I was going to say was that we heard you were in
+town; 'Friends of Samuel Atterbury, my dear,' I said to my wife.  We are
+neighbors, Mr. Brace.  You must know the girls.  You must come to supper.
+We live very plainly, sir, very simply.  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--"
+
+"My father was not an Abolitionist, sir," said Stephen, smiling.
+
+"Quite right, quite right," said Mr. Cluyme.
+
+"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. Brace, 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 England population here is small yet compared to the
+Southerners.  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 Douglas 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 Whipple.  Do you know him?"
+
+A resounding ring of the door-bell cut off Stephen's reply, and Mrs.
+Cluyme's small talk to Mrs. Brice.  In the hall rumbled a familiar voice,
+and in stalked none other than Judge Whipple himself.  Without noticing
+the other occupants of the parlor he strode up to Mrs. Brice, looked at
+her for an instant from under the grizzled brows, and held out his large
+hand.
+
+"Pray, ma'am," he said, "what have you done with your slave?"
+
+Mrs. Cluyme emitted a muffled shriek, like that of a person frightened in
+a dream.  Her husband grasped the curved back of his chair.  But Stephen
+smiled.  And his mother smiled a little, too.
+
+"Are you Mr. Whipple?"  she asked.
+
+"I am, madam," was the reply.
+
+"My slave is upstairs, I believe, unpacking my trunks," said Mrs. Brice.
+
+Mr. and Mrs. Cluyme exchanged a glance of consternation.  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-contained.  To speak truth,
+the Judge was prepared to dislike her.  He had never laid eyes upon her,
+and as he walked hither from his house he seemed to foresee a helpless
+little woman who, once he had called, would fling her Boston pride to the
+winds and dump her woes upon him.  He looked again, and decidedly
+approved of Mrs. Brice, and was unaware that his glance embarrassed her.
+
+"Mr. Whipple," she said,--"do you know Mr. and Mrs. Cluyme?"
+
+The Judge looked behind him abruptly, nodded ferociously 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.  Belle 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. Brice.  "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?"
+
+"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.
+
+"Pardon me, Judge," said he, "but I trust that I may be allowed to
+congratulate you upon the abandonment of principles which I have
+considered a clog to your career.  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 of their very
+means of livelihood."
+
+The Judge grinned diabolically.  Mrs. Cluyme was as yet too stunned to
+speak.  Only Stephen's mother sniffed gunpowder in the air.
+
+"This, Mr. Cluyme," said the Judge, mildly, "is an age of shifting winds.
+It was not long ago," he added reflectively, "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?"
+
+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 bury my abhorrence
+of a relic of barbarism, for the sake of union and peace."
+
+"Well, sir, I am not," retorted the Judge, like lightning.  He rubbed the
+red spat 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. Cluyme gasped.
+
+"But the slave, sir?  Did I not understand you to approve of Mr. Brice'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 night, madam," he said.  "I shall call again to pay my respects
+when you are not occupied."
+
+
+
+
+ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:
+
+Behind that door was the future: so he opened it fearfully
+Being caught was the unpardonable crime
+Believe in others having a hard time
+Humiliation and not conscience which makes the sting
+Read a patent medicine circular and shudder with seven diseases
+
+
+
+
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CRISIS, V1, BY CHURCHILL ***
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