CHAPTER XI.
_"I'll stand as if a man were author of himself,
And knew no other kin."_
Shakespeare.
Since Beverly was a Virginian, and since it was well known that at leastone of the new owners of the paper was from Massachusetts, it was deemedwise to have Beverly sign all of his editorials where they touched--asthey usually did--upon the ever-present, and ever-exciting topic ofslave extension. The young fellows were advised by the original ownerthat the border people were in no mood to accept arguments opposedto the opinions of a large proportion of the property owners, if theysupposed these arguments came from persons in any way hostile to theirinterests--as all the New England people were supposed to be.
But, he reasoned, if these arguments came from the pen of one who hadknown the institution of slavery at its best and had loved the old orderof things where it was an established institution and where itsroots were, as even Beverly believed, in normal earth and not tobe disturbed--if from his pen came the protest against its fartherextension--it was believed the natives would accept it in kindnesswhether they agreed with him or not. Beverly still adhered to the oldorder of things for the old states. He, like his father, had seen howhard it was to be rid of even a small portion of its power and itsresponsibility.
At the end of the second year of his new editorial work Beverly hadgrown to feel himself quite at home with his duties. He had made bothfriends and enemies. The little office had become the town's center ofdebate and of political development. The clash of interests had comenearer and nearer. The country was on the eve of an election excitementsuch as had never before been known. Four parties were in the field. Theelection of either of the two radical candidates meant civil war beyondhope of evasion. Many still fondly hoped that peace was yet possibleif but the compromise candidates were elected. Mr. Davenport heldtenaciously to that view. Beverly came out openly against it. If it werestaved off by compromise, he insisted that it was only a matter of timewhen the inevitable would come. He argued that it would be best to meetand settle the issue once and for all.
"I shall cast my first presidential ballot for that Illinois lawyer whoflayed Douglas," he wrote to his father. "War is simply inevitable now,and he is a fearless and clear-headed leader. When the extension partysees that he means business, and has the whole North and West behind,him the struggle will the sooner be over." But Griffith still hoped forpeace and a compromise, and declared his intention to vote for Belland Everett. "You are simply throwing your vote away," wrote Beverly,insistently, "and after all you have done and suffered because of thisthing I am sorry to see you do it, father. I'd rather see you help otherpeople to keep out of the fire that scorched you than to silently allowit to be lighted in the states that are now free--in the new territorialcountry so soon to be states. But what business have I to advise you?I'm in a position to see it better than you are, is my only excuse. I amgoing to vote for Lincoln and work for him with all my strength. Thingsare about as hot as they can be out here, I can tell you. I mail my lasteditorial on the subject to-day. A good many people here don't half likeit, and I've had to buck up to some pretty ugly talk first and last;but--we have to follow our consciences, don't we? That's mine,whether they like it or not. Lots of love to mother and the boys andMargaret--and to Judy, too. And af you plaise, me reshpects t' Rosanna,shure!
"P. S.--I forgot to say I'll have to postpone that visit home for alittle while yet, until things settle down a bit. We have all we canpossibly manage at the office now. Shap runs the business end of thingsvery well, does the hiring and adv. work and all that. Donaldson takesall the locals and reporting, and I've got pretty much the whole of theediting to do. I sign only the political ones, but I do the other stuffon that page and the literary part too. Of course both of them do someof these things once in a while--and if they want to; but I am dependedon for it; so as times are, I've got to be here to meet all these newquestions. We talk 'em over and I write 'em up. It keeps me tied, butI like it; I reckon I was born for the business. We are really makinggreat strides for youngsters. The subscriptions have very nearly doubledin the two years. Did you read the issue of the 24th with my luridremarks on 'Breakers Ahead?' I believe every word of it. I don't believewe are going to pull through without a touch of gunpowder. I don'tintend to fight myself, if I can help it--but I shall shoot with inkjust as long and as strong as I can. I believe my postscript is a gooddeal longer than my letter; but sometimes our afterthoughts have more in'em than the originals, so why not add 'em? I forgot, too, in my gassingabout myself, to say how glad I am that Roy is doing so well at collegenow. I shall surely try to get home to his graduation in June next, forI hope after Lincoln is once in the White House (and you see I assume heis going to get there), that it won't take long to settle matters down.I think by next June I can surely come home for a good visit. I doubt,though, if we do have a place for Roy to take even then. All the placeswe have to give are rather--well, they are not in his line and the payis small. The salary list looks pretty big to us on payday, but Ireckon it looks slim enough to each one of the men who gets his littleenvelope. Now, I believe that is really all I overlooked replying to inyour last; only, once more, father, _do_ vote for Lincoln and _don't_throw yourself away on that tinkling little Bell. His chances arehopeless; and if they were not, then the country's chances would be.Might as well just put little Margaret at the helm of a ship. No matterhow hard she'd pull, or how sweetly she'd smile or how hard she'd coax,the ship would miss the firm grip needed to steer clear of the breakers.There _are_ breakers ahead I Lincoln is our only hope for an undividedcountry and the limitation, once and for all, of the extension ofslavery--_sure sure_. Again, love to all,
"Beverly.
"N. B.--I don't often read my letters over, but if I hadn't read thisone I shouldn't be so certain as I am now that if I were my ownfather and should receive this cock-sure piece of advice from my eldesthopeful, I'd--well, I'd tan him well, verbally. But since I have thegood luck to be the eldest of the _very_ best and most consideratefather in this wide world, I don't expect anything of the kind to happento me; but if it does, I'll swallow it like a little man--and take myrevenge (in a scorching editorial) on some other fellow's father whovotes for Bell.
"Meekly,
"B."
Mr. Davenport--as was his habit--read the letter aloud to the family,but he smiled anxiously at Roy's merry comments.
"Beverly is in a bad place to be reckless with his English, just now.That editorial on Breakers Ahead seemed to me to go a good deal too far.I'm glad he says he will not fight if there should be a war--which Godforbid."
"I would, then!" remarked Roy. "I'd get up a company right here incollege. Lots of the boys declare they'd go."
Mr. Davenport looked at his son over his gold-bowed glasses. There was asuspicious twinkle in his eyes and a twitching of the lips. There wasa long pause before he spoke. This son of his had always seemed toGriffith younger than he was.
"How old are you, Roy?" he asked in a spirit of fun. "You'd make atremendous soldier, now, wouldn't you?--just out of short clothes?"
"I'm older than Bev. was when he left college. I'm twenty. Young menmake the best soldiers anyhow. I heard Governor Morton tell you that thelast time he was here, and besides----"
"Tut, tut, tut, boy, you attend to your lessons! Twenty! Is that so,Katherine? Is Roy twenty?"
Griffith took his glasses in his hand and held them as if he were tryingto magnify the boy in order to see him, and with his other hand tweakedhis upper lip as if searching for a mustache. Roy accepted the joke andstretched himself up to his tallest, and from his inch of advantage overhis father he put down a patronizing hand on Griffith's head and said,"Bless you, my children, bless you." Griffith changed the direction ofhis glasses and searched the ceiling with that gratified smile fathershave when they realize that a son really exceeds them in anything.Katherine was laughing at the byplay of the two. Suddenly Griffithturned to his youngest son: "Howard, how old are you? I
suppose you willvote this time, and go to war and do no end of great and rash things."
"No, I'll stay at home and nurse the baby. That's the kind of a fellow Iam," flung back this petulant one, and the door banged behind him.
"Don't tease Ward," said Katherine. "His temper seems to grow fasterthan he does just these last two years, and--"
"Highty-tighty! He'd better take a reef in it. If I'd behaved that waywith my father he would have prescribed a little hickory oil. How old_is_ Howard? Fourteen? Growing too fast by half--but his temper doesseem to keep up with the rest of him, I must say. Go and hitch up thecentury plant, Roy. I want to drive out to the farm. Want to go'long?Don't. Well, do you, Kath'rine? No? Well, then I guess I'll have to takeMargaret. She won't go back on me like that. It'll do her good and shecan play with those two peewees of Miller's, while he and I look overthe stock and drive about the place a little. Fan's colt was lame thelast time I was out. I don't believe the strawberry patch is going todo well this year, either. Did I tell you what a fine fat calf thebrindle's is? You'd laugh to see it. It winks at you exactly as if itunderstood a joke."
The old phaeton--otherwise the "century plant"--dashed up to the door.The combination was especially incongruous. Hitched to it was a great,gray, fiery Arabian stallion. The one-time circuit rider had not losthis love for a good horse, and his little stock farm on the outskirts ofthe town was the joy of his life. He sadly missed the beautiful valleyof his youth, but at least these fields were his. No blue mountainsloomed up in the distance, but the beech and maple trees were luxuriant.Mountain stream and narrow pass there were not, but a pebbly brook, inwhich were minnows, ran through the strip of woods, and Griffith stillenjoyed the comradeship of bird and beast and fish. He had named thestallion Selim, after the love of his youth, and no one dared drive himbut himself. He took up the lines and called back to Roy as Selim dashedoff, "I'll leave Selim and bring Fannie in, so your mother and you candrive to-morrow. 'Bye, Howard! Be a good boy!" he called, as he caught aglimpse of the boy at the corner of the house.
"So'll the devil be a good boy! Just wait till that war comes! They'llsee!" he growled, as the "century plant" disappeared. There floatedback on the air, "Joy to the world, te, te, turn, turn. Yea, yea, there,Selim! Whoa! Yea! yea! Let earth receive her King! Te, te, turn." The"century plant" and Selim disappeared around the corner, and the fife anddrum corps which had startled the horse, drowned all other sounds, andfor Howard, all other thoughts. He did not stop to reach the gate. Hevaulted over the fence and joined the procession and the refrain of theschool-boys who gave words to the music--"on a rail! And we'll ride oldAbe, and we'll ride old Abe, and we'll ride him to the White House ona rail!" The boy dropped into the step and the rhythm with a will. Heforgot to be sullen.