epend on the genius of Douglas when the supreme crisis came.
He felt the quality of his mind tonight. But could Douglas control the
mob impulse of the North where such appeals as _Uncle Tom's Cabin_ had
gripped the souls of millions and reason no longer ruled life?

There was the rub.

There was no question of the genius of Douglas. The question was could
any leadership count if the mob, not the man, became our real ruler? The
task of Douglas was to hold the fanatic of the North while he soothed
the passions of the radical of the South. Henry Clay had succeeded. But
_Uncle Tom's Cabin_ had not been written in his day.

Toombs was becoming a firebrand. His eloquence was doing in the South
what Mrs. Stowe's novel was doing in the North--preparing the soil for
revolution--planting gunpowder under the foundations of society.

Could these forces yet be controlled or were they already beyond
control?

CHAPTER V

After dinner, Jeb Stuart succeeded in separating Mary from Phil and
began again his adoration. The men adjourned to the library to discuss
the Presidential Campaign and weigh the chances of General Scott against
Franklin Pierce. The comment of Toombs was grim in its sarcasm and early
let him out of the discussion.

"It doesn't matter in the least, gentlemen, who is elected in November,"
he observed. "There's nothing before the country as yet. Not even an
honest-to-God man."

Lee shook his head gravely.

Toombs parried his protest.

"I know, Colonel Lee, you're fond of the old General. You fought with
him in Mexico. But--" he dropped his voice to a friendly whisper--"all
the same, you know that what I say is true."

He took a cigar from the mantel, lighted it and waved to the group.

"I'll take a little stroll and smoke."

Custis took Phil to the cottage of the foreman to see a night school in
session.

"You mean the overseer's place?" Phil asked eagerly, as visions of Simon
Legree flashed through his mind.

"No--I mean Uncle Ike's cottage. He's the foreman of the farm. We have
no white overseer."

Phil was shocked. He had supposed every Southern plantation had a white
overseer as slave driver with a blacksnake whip in his hand. A negro
foreman was incredible. As a matter of fact there were more negro
foremen than white overseers in the South.

In Uncle Ike's cottage by the light of many candles the school for boys
was in session. Custis' brother "Rooney," was the teacher. He had six
pupils