Now came a political contest to shame the shortsightedness of the wise men who framed our constitution. I do not say this in disparagement of a broad and liberty-loving principle, the Jeffersonian principle that made demagogic men too strong and government too weak, but I do say, as all men now must know, that advantage was taken of the theory of states rights, beast-headed fallacy; and I do aver that Hamilton was the wisest man that saw the birth of our nation. But this is simply seeking to make noon-day clear.  
Never was there a campaign of such heat and bitterness. Households were divided and brothers frowned upon one another, and in the distance hovered the vulture-shaped cloud of war. My Young Master supported Kentucky's favorite son, as did Old Master, and for months our house bore the appearance of a committee room. The time came for Bob to display his power as an orator, and never was there a nobler effort. It was in the court-house yard. Great men had spoken before the boy arose to address the crowd.[Pg 243] I was standing near, and I thought that I saw his blood leap; I know that his eye shot fire at me. His first sentence caught the assembly, the lawyers, the doctors and the sturdy yeomen. I cannot recall it; I will not try, but I know that it tingled through me. Since then I have listened to many a speech; I have heard Wendell Phillips and the great men in Congress, but never have I been bound by the spell of such impassioned eloquence. To me his words lost their literal meaning—it was an outpour of passion and emotion. The crowd went wild, and when the orator stepped from the platform, he was borne away on the shoulders of men. Old George D. Prentice, author of an immortal poem, was present with genius shining in his eyes, and the next day his newspaper declared that another great orator had arisen in Kentucky, one to take the place of Henry Clay. It was a glad night at our house. The trees were hung with lanterns, so great was the pressure of people come to congratulate the blue-grass Demosthenes.
 
Upon all these proceedings, Mr. Clem looked with a quiet smile.
 
"You made a great speech," he said to Bob, when we had gone to the room, late at night. "Yes, you caught me, but what does it all amount to? I told you[Pg 244] that Lincoln would be nominated, and now I tell you he will be elected."
 
"Nonsense," Old Master cried. He was walking up and down the room, his head high with pride. "This country is not yet ready for a revolution."
 
"That may be, Guilford," said Mr. Clem, "but it is ready for the election of that man."
 
"Are you going to support him, sir?" Old Master demanded.
 
"Did you ever know me to turn my back upon a friend? And he is not only my friend, but the saviour of this country, the greatest statesman that this republic has seen."
 
"Clem," said Old Master, pausing and resting his hand upon a pile of books that lay on Bob's table, "it is well enough to praise your friend, for he is no doubt droll and amusing, but when you come to call him a great statesman, you do injustice to the memory of Clay and Webster, of Jefferson and Benton."
 
Mr. Clem laughed. "Guilford," said he, "you are misled just as the majority of men suffer themselves to be misled. A man brays with the solemnity of an ass and you think he is great. Over a vital question he utters a senseless stupidity and you think he has said a wise thing. You don't know that humor is the cream[Pg 245] that rises to the surface of life's wisdom. Lincoln tells a story and throws a bright light on a truth; he does not invest a subject with a gloom so thick that no eye can penetrate it. He makes all things plain, and the province of greatness is not to enshroud but to simplify. But that's neither here nor there; he's going to be elected."
 
"But can't you understand that the country will not accept him, sir?"
 
"Not accept him? The people will accept whom the people elect."
 
"But the South will not accept an abolitionist."
 
"Then the South will have to make the most of it. Of what good will be her protest? You don't mean that she will secede from the union?"
 
"Oh, I hope not," said Old Master. "Surely not," he added. "We cannot afford to throw away the traditions of our fathers."
 
It was a sore subject to me, and I was glad when they dropped it. I hardly knew why, but my flesh always began to creep when abolition was ventured upon; there was a shudder in it, a threat of trouble, trial and blood.
 
Bob had shown no interest in the talk; he had sat in a deep muse, his hands listless in his lap, his eyes[Pg 246] turned upward; but how handsome was his face, his expression sweetened with success. That day he had been lifted high and given a glimpse, yes a full sight of the heaven his heart so fondly craved; he was to be great and he knew it as he sat there dreaming. Old Master turned to go, and his son came down from the purple clouds. They looked at each other for a moment.
 
"Bob."
 
"Yes, sir."
 
"You have made me the proudest man in the State; you have done what Patrick Henry fired me with an ambition to do. It was denied me, and now I am rejoiced to see it fulfilled in you. The blood of old Kentucky shook your hand to-night. Now give it to me, sir."
 
Young master arose and they shook hands with solemn ceremony, Bob turning his eyes away. "Your eye, sir," said the old man, and the young man looked into his father's eyes; and they read each other sternly, and with never a sign of flinching, so completely had each mastered himself.
 
"Father, if I have ability it is indeed the fulfillment of your own ambition, for I felt it as a child, so strongly apart from my own forces that I knew the[Pg 247] current must come from you. I have been told by old men that I am a second edition of yourself and—"
 
"A revised and corrected edition, sir," the old man broke in, still gripping firmly the young fellow's hand.
 
"But a cheaper edition, I fear," the orator said.
 
"Enough, captivating flatterer. Good-night."
 
Old Master strode out, walking hard upon the floor, and Mr. Clem, who with keen amusement had observed this exchange of fine-tempered civility, turned to Bob and said:
 
"By the flint hoofs, you and that old brother of mine will be snatched out of the sixteenth century before very long. Paw me if I didn't expect one of you to say, 'I come not here to talk, you know too well the story of our thralldom.' Bob, the trouble with the South is the fact that it is not really republican in principle. It is a shapeless aristocracy writhing about to find a head. Tell me, do you believe in a democratic form of government?"
 
Bob sat down, leaned back and put his feet on the table, leaving Mr. Clem standing behind him; and he glanced............