G.A. Henty - "With Lee in Virginia; A Story Of The American Civil War"

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New Philadelphia Book Publisher Highlights Local Talent
Book and Publishing News from Publishers Newswire(tm)

Looking for Child to be on Cover of a New Book, 'The Model Child'
PHILADELPHIA, Pa. -- The Philadelphia literary world will celebrate the launch of two new players today, April 10th: Kay Square Press, a new publishing company focused on Philadelphia-area artists, their stories, and their art; and Kay Square's first release, 'With the Rich and Mighty: Emlen Etting of Philadelphia' (ISBN: 978-0-9815129-0-7), a critical biography by Kenneth C. Kaleta.

FlatSigned Press Alleges Don Imus Remarks Damage Legacy of President Gerald R. Ford
NEW YORK, N.Y. -- Nathan Yungerberg, an accomplished model scout and professional child photographer is launching a nation-wide casting call to find the cover model for his highly anticipated book release, 'The Model Child: A Parents Guide to the Child Modeling Industry' (ISBN: 978-0-9817018-0-6).

Books: His Sombre Rivals

E >> E. P. Roe >> His Sombre Rivals




The major held the Southern view. "Slaves are property," he said; "and
the government is bound to permit a man to take his property where he
pleases, and protect him in all his rights." The point where the
veteran drew the line was in disloyalty to the flag which he had sworn
to defend, and for which he had become a cripple for life. As the
Secession spirit became more rampant and open in South Carolina, the
weight of his invective fell more heavily upon the leaders there than
upon the hitherto more detested abolitionists.

When he read the address of Alexander H. Stephens, delivered to the
same people on the following evening, wherein that remarkable man
said, "My object is not to stir up strife, but to allay it; not to
appeal to your passions, but to your reason. Shall the people of the
South secede from the Union in consequence of the election of Mr.
Lincoln? My countrymen, I tell you frankly, candidly, and earnestly,
that I do not think they ought. In my judgment the election of no man,
constitutionally chosen, is sufficient cause for any State to separate
from the Union. It ought to stand by and aid still in maintaining the
Constitution of the country. We are pledged to maintain the
Constitution. Many of us are sworn to support it"--when the veteran
came to these words, he sprang to his feet without a thought of his
crutch, and cried in a tone with which he would order a charge, "There
is the man who ought to be President. Read that speech."

Hilland did read it aloud, and then said thoughtfully, "Yes; if the
leaders on both sides were of the stamp of Mr. Stephens and would
stand firm all questions at issue could be settled amicably under the
Constitution. But I fear the passion of the South, fired by the
unscrupulous misrepresentations of a few ambitious men, will carry the
Cotton States into such violent disloyalty that the North in its
indignation will give them a lesson never to be forgotten."

"Well!" shouted the major, "if they ever fire on the old flag, I'll
shoulder my crutch and march against them myself--I would, by heaven!
though my own brother fired the gun." Grace's merry laugh rang out--
for she never lost a chance to throw oil on the troubled waters--and
she cried, "Warren, if this thing goes on, you and papa will stand
shoulder to shoulder."

But the time for that had not yet come. Indeed, there would ever
remain wide differences of opinion between the two men. The major
believed that if Congress conceded promptly all that the slave power
demanded, "the demagogues of the South would soon be without
occupation;" while Hilland asserted that the whole thing originated in
bluster to frighten the North into submission, and that the danger was
that the unceasing inflammatory talk might so kindle the masses that
they would believe the lies, daily iterated, and pass beyond the
control of their leaders.

When at last South Carolina seceded, and it became evident that other
States would follow, the major often said with bitter emphasis that
the North would have to pay dearly for its sentiment in regard to the
negro. In Hilland's case strong exultation became a growing element in
his anger, for he believed that slavery was destined to receive
heavier blows from the mad zeal of its friends than Northern
abolitionists could have inflicted in a century.

"If the South casts aside constitutional protection," he reasoned,
"she must take the consequences. After a certain point is passed, the
North will make sharp, quick work with anything that interferes with
her peace and prosperity."

"The work will be sharp enough, young man," replied the major testily;
"but don't be sure about its being quick. If the South once gets to
fighting, I know her people well enough to assure you that the
Republican party can reach its ends only through seas of blood, if
they are ever attained."

Hilland made no reply--he never contradicted the old gentleman--but he
wrote Graham a rather strong letter intimating that it was time for
Americans to come home.

Graham would not have come, however, had not Grace, who had just
returned from Mrs. Mayburn's cottage, caused a postscript to be added,
giving the information that his aunt was seriously ill, and that her
physician thought it might be a long time before she recovered, even
if life was spared.

This decided him at once; and as he thought he might never see his
kind old friend again, he bitterly regretted that he had remained away
so long. And yet he felt he could scarcely have done otherwise; for in
bitter disappointment he found that his passion, so far from being
conquered, had, by some uncontrollable law of his nature, simply grown
with time and become interwoven with every fibre of his nature.
Hitherto he had acted on the principle that he must and would conquer
it; but now that duty called him to the presence of the one whose love
and kindness formed an indisputable claim upon him, he began to reason
that further absence was futile, that he might as well go back, and--
as he promised his aunt--"do the best he could."

It must be admitted that Hilland's broad hint, that in the coming
emergency Americans should be at home, had little weight with him.
From natural bent he had ever been averse to politics. In accordance
with his theory of evolution, he believed the negro was better off in
his present condition than he could be in any other. He was the last
man to cherish an enthusiasm for an inferior race. Indeed, he would
have much preferred it should die out altogether and make room for
better material. The truth was that his prolonged residence abroad had
made the questions of American politics exceedingly vague and
inconsequential. He believed them to be ephemeral to the last degree--
in the main, mere struggles of parties and partisans for power and
spoils; and for their hopes, schemes, and stratagems to gain temporary
success, he cared nothing.

He had not been an idler in his prolonged absence. In the first place,
he had striven with the whole force of a powerful will to subdue a
useless passion, and had striven in vain. He had not, however, yielded
for a day to a dreamy melancholy, but, in accordance with his promise
"to do his best," had been tireless in mental and physical activity.
The tendency to wander somewhat aimlessly had ceased, and he had
adopted the plan of studying modern life at the old centres of
civilization and power.

Hilland's letter found him in Egypt, and only a few weeks had elapsed
after its reception when, with deep anxiety, he rang the bell at his
aunt's cottage door. He had not stopped to ask for letters in London,
for he had learned that by pushing right on he could catch a fast
outgoing steamer and save some days.

The servant who admitted him uttered a cry of joy; and a moment later
his aunt rose feebly from the lounge in her sitting-room, and greeted
him as her son.



CHAPTER XVII

PREPARATION

Graham learned with deep satisfaction that the dangerous symptoms of
his aunt's illness had passed away, and that she was now well advanced
in convalescence. They gave to each other an hour or two of unreserved
confidence; and the old lady's eyes filled with tears more than once
as she saw how vain had been her nephew's struggle. It was equally
clear, however, that he had gained strength and a nobler manhood in
the effort; and so she told him.

"If supper is ready," he replied, "I'll prove to you that I am in very
fair condition."

An hour later he left her, cheerful and comparatively happy, for the
St. Johns' cottage. From the piazza he saw through the lighted windows
a home-scene that he had once dreamed might bless his life. Hilland,
evidently, was reading the evening paper aloud, and his back was
toward his friend. The major was nervously drumming on the table with
his fingers, and contracting his frosty eyebrows, as if perturbed by
the news. But it was on the young wife that Graham's eyes dwelt
longest. She sat with some sewing on the further side of the open
fire, and her face was toward him. Had she changed? Yes; but for the
better. The slight matronly air and fuller form that had come with
wifehood became her better than even her girlish grace. As she glanced
up to her husband from time to time, Graham saw serene loving trust
and content.

"It is all well with them," he thought; "and so may it ever be."

A servant who was passing out opened the door, and thus he was
admitted without being announced, for he cautioned the maid to say
nothing. Then pushing open the parlor door, which was ajar, he
entered, and said quietly: "I've come over for a game of whist."

But the quietness of his greeting was not reciprocated. All rose
hastily, even to the major, and stared at him. Then Hilland half
crushed the proffered hand, and the major grasped the other, and there
came a fire of exclamations and questions that for a moment or two
left no space for answer.

Grace cried: "Come, Warren, give Mr. Graham a chance to get his breath
and shake hands with me. I propose to count for something in this
welcome."

"Give him a kiss, sweetheart," said her delighted husband.

Grace hesitated, and a slight flush suffused her face. Graham quickly
bent over her hand, which he now held, and kissed it, saying: "I've
been among the Orientals so long that I've learned some of their
customs of paying homage. I know that you are queen here as of old,
and that Hilland is by this time the meekest of men."

"Indeed, was I so imperious in old times?" she asked, as he threw
himself, quite at home, into one of the easy-chairs.

"You are of those who are born to rule. You have a way of your own,
however, which some other rulers might imitate to advantage."

"Well, my first command is that you give an account of yourself. So
extensive a traveller never sat down at our quiet fireside before.
Open your budget of wonders. Only remember we have some slight
acquaintance with Baron Munchausen."

"The real wonders of the world are more wonderful than his inventions.
Beyond that I hastened home by the shortest possible route after
receiving Hilland's letter, I have little to say."

"I thought my letter would stir you up."

"In sincerity, I must say it did not. The postscript did, however."

"Then, in a certain sense, it was I who brought you home, Mr. Graham,"
said Grace. "I had just returned from a call on Mrs. Mayburn, and I
made Warren open the letter and add the postscript. I assure you we
were exceedingly anxious about her for weeks."

"And from what she has told me I am almost convinced that she owes her
life more to you than to her physician. Drugs go but a little way,
especially at her time of life; but the delicacies and nourishing food
you saw she was provided with so regularly rallied her strength. Yes;
it was your postscript that led to my immediate return, and not
Hilland's political blast."

"Why, Graham! Don't you realize what's going on here?"

"Not very seriously."

"You may have to fight, old fellow."

"I've no objections after I have decided which side to take."

"Good heavens, Graham! you will be mobbed if you talk that way here in
New England. This comes of a man's living abroad so much that he loses
all love for his native land."

"Squabbling politicians are not one's native land. I am not a hater of
slavery as you are; and if it produces types of men and women like
that Southern lady of whom I told you, it must be an excellent
institution."

"Oh, yes," cried Hilland laughing. "By the way, Grace, my cool,
cynical friend was once madly in love--at first sight, too--and with a
lady old enough to be his mother. I never heard a woman's character
sketched more tenderly; and his climax was that your mother must have
closely resembled her."

"Mr. Graham is right," said the major impressively. "The South
produces the finest women in the world; and when the North comes to
meet its men, as I fear it must, it will find they are their mothers'
sons."

"Poor Warren!" cried Grace; "here are all three of us against you--all
pro-slavery and Southern in our sympathies."

"I admit at once that the South has produced THE finest woman in the
world," said Hilland, taking his wife's hand. "But I must add that
many of her present productions are not at all to my taste; nor will
they be to yours, Graham, after you have been here long enough to
understand what is going on--that is, if anything at home can enlist
your interest."

"I assure you I am deeply interested. It's exhilarating to breathe
American air now, especially so after just coming from regions where
everything has been dead for centuries; for the people living there
now are scarcely alive. Of course I obtained from the papers in Egypt
very vague ideas of what was going on; and after receiving your letter
my mind was too preoccupied with my aunt's illness to dwell on much
besides. If the flag which gave me protection abroad, and under which
I was born, is assailed, I shall certainly fight for it, even though I
may not be in sympathy with the causes which led to the quarrel. What
I said about being undecided as to which side I would take was a half-
jocular way of admitting that I need a great deal of information; and
between you and the major I am in a fair way to hear both sides. I
cannot believe, however, that a civil war will break out in this land
of all others. The very idea seems preposterous, and I am not beyond
the belief that the whole thing is political excitement. I have
learned this much, that the old teachings of Calhoun have borne their
legitimate fruit, and that the Cotton States by some hocus-pocus
legislation declare themselves out of the Union. But then the
rational, and to my mind inevitable, course will be, that the
representative men of both sides will realize at last to what straits
their partisanship is bringing them, and so come together and adjust
their real or fancied grievances. Meanwhile, the excitement will die
out; and a good many will have a dim consciousness that they have made
fools of themselves, and go quietly about their own business the rest
of their days."

"Graham, you don't know anything about the true state of affairs,"
said Hilland; and before the evening was over he proved his words true
to his friend, who listened attentively to the history of his native
land for the past few months. In conclusion, Hilland said, "At one
time--not very long ago, either--I held your opinion that it was the
old game of bluster and threatening on the part of Southern
politicians. But they are going too far; they have already gone too
far. In seizing the United States forts and other property, they have
practically waged war against the government. My opinions have changed
from week to week under the stern logic of events, and I now believe
that the leading spirits in the South mean actual and final
separation. I've no doubt that they hope to effect their purpose
peaceably, and that the whole thing will soon be a matter of diplomacy
between two distinct governments. But they are preparing for war, and
they will have it, too, to their hearts' content. President Buchanan
is a muff. He sits and wrings his hands like an old woman, and
declares he can do nothing. But the new administration will soon be in
power, and it will voice the demand of the North that this nonsense be
stopped; and if no heed is given, it will stop it briefly,
decisively."

"My son Warren," said the major, "you told your friend some time since
that he knew nothing about this affair. You must permit me to say the
same to you. I feat that both sides have gone too far, much too far;
and what the end will be, and when it will come, God only knows."

Before many weeks passed Graham shared the same view.

Events crowded upon each other; pages of history were made daily, and
often hourly. In every home, as well as in the cottages wherein dwelt
the people of my story, the daily journals were snatched and read at
the earliest possible moment. Many were stern and exultant like
Hilland; more were dazed and perplexed, feeling that something ought
to be done to stem the torrent, and at the same time were astonished
and troubled to find that perhaps a next-door neighbor sympathized
with the rebellion and predicted its entire success. The social
atmosphere was thick with doubt, heavy with despondency, and often
lurid with anger.

Graham became a curious study to both Grace and his aunt; and
sometimes his friend and the major were inclined to get out of
patience with him. He grew reticent on the subject concerning which
all were talking, but he read with avidity, not only the history of
the day, but of the past as it related to the questions at issue.

One of his earliest acts had been the purchase of a horse noted in
town as being so powerful, spirited, and even vicious, that few dared
to drive or ride him. He had finally brought his ill-repute to a
climax by running away, wrecking the carriage, and breaking his
owner's ribs. He had since stood fuming in idleness; and when Graham
wished him brought to the unused stable behind his aunt's cottage, no
one would risk the danger. Then the young man went after the horse
himself.

"I've only one man in my employ who dares clean and take care of him,"
remarked the proprietor of the livery stable where he was kept; "and
he declares that he won't risk his life much longer unless the brute
is used and tamed down somewhat. There's your property and I'd like to
have it removed as soon as possible."

"I'll remove it at once," said Graham, quietly; and paying no heed to
the crowd that began to gather when it was bruited that "Firebrand"--
for such was the horse's name--was to be brought out, he took a bridle
and went into the stall, first speaking gently, then stroking the
animal with an assured touch. The horse permitted himself to be
bridled and led out; but there was an evil fire in his eye, and he
gave more than one ominous snort of defiance. The proprietor, smitten
by a sudden compunction, rushed forward and cried, "Look here, sir;
you are taking your life in your hand."

"I say, Graham," cried Hilland's voice, "what scrape are you in, that
you have drawn such a crowd?"

"No scrape at all," said Graham, looking around and recognizing his
friend and Grace mounted and passing homeward from their ride. "I've
had the presumption to think that you would permit me to join you
occasionally, and so have bought a good horse. Isn't he a beauty?"

"What, Firebrand?"

"That's his present name. I shall re-christen him."

"Oh, come, Graham! if you don't value your neck, others do. You've
been imposed upon."

"I've warned him--" began the keeper of the livery stable; but here
the horse reared and tried to break from Graham's grasp.

"Clear the way," the young man cried; and as the brute came down he
seized his mane and vaulted upon his bare back. The action was so
sudden and evidently so unexpected that the horse stood still and
quivered for a moment, then gave a few prodigious bounds; but the
rider kept his seat so perfectly that he seemed a part of the horse.
The beast next began to rear, and at one time it seemed as if he would
fall over backward, and his master sprang lightly to the ground. But
the horse was scarcely on all fours before Graham was on his back
again. The brute had the bit in his teeth, and paid no attention to
it. Graham now drew a flexible rawhide from his pocket, and gave his
steed a severe cut across the flanks. The result was another bound
into the air, such as experts present declared was never seen before;
and then the enraged animal sped away at a tremendous pace There was a
shout of applause; and Hilland and Grace galloped after, but soon lost
sight of Graham. Two hours later he trotted quietly up to their door,
his coal-black horse white with foam, quivering in every muscle, but
perfectly subdued.

"I merely wished to assure you that my neck was safe, and that I have
a horse fit to go to the war that you predict so confidently," he said
to Hilland, who with Grace rushed out on the piazza.

"I say, Graham, where did you learn to ride?" asked his friend.

"Oh, the horses were nobler animals than the men in some of the lands
where I have been, and I studied them. This creature will be a
faithful friend in a short time. You have no idea how much
intelligence such a horse as this has if he is treated intelligently.
I don't believe he has ever known genuine kindness. I'll guarantee
that I can fire a pistol between his ears within two weeks, and that
he won't flinch. Good-by. I shall be my own hostler for a short time,
and must work an hour over him after the run he's had."

"Well," exclaimed Hilland, as he passed into the house with his wife,
"I admit that Graham has changed. He was always great on tramps, but I
never knew him to care for a horse before."

Grace felt that he had changed ever since he had leaned for support
against the apple-tree by which he was now passing down the frozen
walk, but she only said, "I never saw such superb horsemanship."

She had not thought Graham exactly fine-looking in former days; but in
his absence his slight figure had filled out, and his every movement
was instinct with reserved force. The experiences through which he had
passed removed him, as she was conscious, beyond the sphere of
ordinary men. Even his marked reticence about himself and his views
was stimulating to the imagination. Whether he had conquered his old
regard for her she could not tell. He certainly no longer avoided her,
and he treated her with the frank courtesy he would naturally extend
to his friend's wife. But he spent far more time with his aunt than
with them; and it became daily more and more evident that he accepted
the major's view, and was preparing for what he believed would be a
long and doubtful conflict. Since it must come, he welcomed the
inevitable, for in his condition of mind it was essential that he
should be intensely occupied. Although his aunt had to admit that he
was a little peculiar, his manner was simple and quiet; and when he
joined his friends on their drives or at their fireside, he was
usually as genial as they could desire, and his tenderness for his
aunt daily increased the respect which he had already won from Grace.



CHAPTER XVIII

THE CALL TO ARMS

On the 4th of March, 1861, was inaugurated as President the best
friend the South ever had. He would never have deceived or misled her.
In all the bloody struggle that followed, although hated, scoffed at,
and maligned as the vilest monster of earth, he never by word or act
manifested a vindictive spirit toward her. Firm and sagacious, Lincoln
would have protected the South in her constitutional rights, though
every man at the North had become an abolitionist. Slavery, however,
had long been doomed, like other relics of barbarism, by the spirit of
the age; and his wisdom and that of men like him, with the logic of
events and the irresistible force of the world's opinion, would have
found some peaceful, gradual remedy for an evil which wrought even
more injury to the master than to the bondman. In his inaugural
address he repeated that he had "no purpose, directly or indirectly,
to interfere with slavery in the States where it existed."

An unanswerable argument against disunion, and an earnest appeal to
reason and lawful remedy, he followed by a most impressive declaration
of peace and good-will: "In your hands, my dissatisfied fellow-
countrymen, and not mine, is the momentous issue of civil war. The
government will not assail you. You can have no conflict without being
yourselves the aggressors. You have no oath registered in heaven to
destroy the government; while I shall have the most solemn one to
preserve, protect, and defend it."

These were noble words, and to all minds not confused by the turmoil,
passion, and prejudices of the hour, they presented the issue
squarely. If the leaders of the South desired peaceful negotiation,
the way was opened, the opportunity offered; if they were resolved on
the destruction of the Union, Lincoln's oath meant countless men and
countless treasure to defend it.

Men almost held their breath in suspense. The air became thick with
rumors of compromise and peace. Even late in March, Mr. Seward, the
President's chief adviser, "believed and argued that the revolution
throughout the South had spent its force and was on the wane; and that
the evacuation of Sumter and the manifestation of kindness and
confidence to the Rebel and Border States would undermine the
conspiracy, strengthen the Union sentiment and Union majorities, and
restore allegiance and healthy political action without resort to
civil war."

To Graham, who, in common with millions in their homes, was studying
the problem, this course seemed so rational and so advantageous to all
concerned, that he accepted it as the outline of the future. The old
major shook his head and growled, "You don't know the South; it's too
late; their blood is up."

Hilland added exultantly, "Neither do you know the North, Graham.
There will come a tidal wave soon that will carry Mr. Seward and the
hesitating President to the boundaries of Mexico."