had forgotten the storm of revolution. He was
laughing and playing with his children. However stern and high his
uncompromising opinions might be on public questions, he was wax in the
hands of the two lovely boys who climbed over him and the vivacious
little girl who slipped her arms about his neck. His respite from care
was brief. At the first important stop in Virginia a dense crowd had
packed the platforms. Their cries throbbed with anything but the spirit
of delay and compromise.

"Davis!"

"Hurrah for Jefferson Davis!"

"Speech--speech!"

"Davis!"

"Speech!"

There was something tense and compelling in the tones of these cries.
They rang as bugle calls to battle. In their hum and murmur there was
more than curiosity--more than the tribute of a people to their leader.
There was in the very sound the electric rush of the first crash of the
approaching storm. The man inside who had led soldiers to death on
battle fields felt it instantly and the smile died on his thin lips. The
roar outside his car window was not the cry of a mob echoing the
sentiments of a leader. It was the shrill imperial cry of a rising
people creating their leaders.

From the moment he bowed his head and lifted his hand over the crowd
that greeted him, hopeless sorrow filled his soul.

War was inevitable.

These people did not realize it. But he saw it now in all its tragic
import. He had intended to counsel patience, moderation and delay.
Before the hot breath of the storm he felt already in his face such
advice was a waste of words. He would tell them the simple truth. He
could do most good in that way. These fiery, impulsive Southern people
were tired of argument, tired of compromise, tired of delay. They were
reared in the faith that their States were sovereign. And these
Virginians had good reason for their faith. The bankers of Europe had
but yesterday refused to buy the bonds of the United States Government
unless countersigned by the State of Virginia!

These people not only believed in the sovereignty of their States and
their right to withdraw from the Union when they saw fit, but they could
not conceive the madness of the remaining States attempting to use force
to hold them. They knew, too, that millions of Northern voters were as
clear on that point as the people of the South.

Their spokesman, Horace Greeley, in _The Tribune_ had said again and
again:

"If the Southern States are mad enough to withdraw from the Uni