The Statesmen Snowbound Part 3

"Yes, quite true; and yet, after all, how like the moon we are,"

muttered one of the newspaper men disconnectedly.

"How so?" inquired Senator Hammond acidly.

"Why, here we are, full--gloriously full--on the twentieth of the month, and eight days later, down to our last quarter."

"That's bad, very bad, O'Brien," said another scribe mournfully.

"Forgive him, Senator. I will have something to say to him later."

Withering glances were cast at the unlucky one, who seemed about to sink under the table, and the wind outside howled dismally, and rattled the windows in its rage.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Senator Pennypacker.]

The situation was steadied somewhat by Senator Pennypacker. The Senator, who entered public life five years ago a poor man, and who, by living economically, saving his pay, and borrowing his chewing tobacco, is at present worth considerably over a million dollars, now favored the company with some sage remarks as to the tendency of the times toward extravagance, the high cost of living in Washington, the iniquity of the boarding-house keepers, and the difficulty he had to make both ends meet. The Senator is a tall, lank, ungainly looking man; thin lipped, with mean, cunning eyes, strained ever for the main chance. A few tufts of reddish hair are flattened on either side of his cranium, and his nose and chin were sharpened on the grindstone of necessity and early hardship into twin beaks. Verily a vulture, battening now on the Trusts, and feared and hated by other birds of smaller body and weaker wing.

With him, Selfishness is indeed the main-spring of Ambition! His features are well-known to the public through the medium of those extensive advertis.e.m.e.nts in the papers heralding the great vegetable remedy "Gee-Soo-Na."

His remarks were received in silence, though a careful observer might have noticed an exchange of solemn winks between Colonel Manysnifters and Sammy Ridley.

"Oh, he is the stingy one, all right," Colonel Manysnifters confided later to Mr. Ridley. "He is the kind of fellow who would send his best girl a box of candy Sat.u.r.day morning, and call around Sunday night and eat it all up."

When the Senator had fully delivered himself, some one brought up the negro question.

"They certainly are the limit in Washington," said Colonel Manysnifters.

"The sa.s.sy black rascals seem to think they own the town. And n.i.g.g.e.r policemen, too! Think of a white man being arrested by a n.i.g.g.e.r policeman!"

"I do not see why lawbreakers should object to the color of the man who gathers them in," said Van Rensselaer sarcastically.

"We Southerners do, anyway," retorted the Colonel hotly.

"You Southerners should behave yourselves, then there would be no trouble," observed Senator Hammond dryly.

"Well, that's all right, now," said Colonel Manysnifters, flaring up, "we don't expect you Northerners to feel as we do about it! We----"

"Come, come, Manysnifters," said Senator Bull pacifically, "don't get excited. Don't let the 'n.i.g.g.e.r in the wood-pile' spoil this occasion.

Calm yourself."

"Oh, I'm not excited. It takes a lot to excite me," said the Colonel; "but just to give you an idea of how things are going in Washington, a cousin of mine from Atlanta, a kindly disposed chap as ever lived, meeting an old negress on the street there the other day, said to her, 'Well, Auntie, how are you this bright morning?'

"'Huh!' exclaimed the old woman angrily, 'Auntie! Don't you call me no Auntie! I ain't yoh aunt, and I ain't yoh uncle; I'se yoh ekal!' Now wouldn't that jar you? That's the way the n.i.g.g.e.rs feel about it in Washington."

"Forget it, Manysnifters," urged Senator Bull, "forget it. Give the colored brother a show. He will work out his own salvation."

"At the end of a rope," growled the Colonel.

"Be charitable, sir, be charitable," said Senator Pennypacker ponderously. "The negro problem lies with the white people of the South.

They will solve it. Give them time. Perhaps they may find

"'With keen, discriminating sight, Black's not so black, Nor white's so very white!'"

"Oh, we will solve it all right," said Colonel Manysnifters knowingly, "trust us for that. Only--you Northern folks keep your hands off. That's all we ask!"

Mr. Ridley, to soothe the fiery Southerner, poured out a generous libation, and the dark cloud rolled over.

V

SENATOR BULL'S STORY

When we returned to the observation car Senator Bull was unanimously called to the chair.

"I shall hark back to my boyhood days," said he, "and relate an incident in my early life, and its sequel when I attained man's estate. I suppose all of us have had experiences which have more than once brought home the weight of that bewhiskered old maxim--'Truth is stronger than fiction.'

"There were twelve of us--Bert Martin, Joey Scott, Tom Hyland, Georgie Morris, Jake Milburn, Bob Hardee, Lannie Sudduth, Owen Prouty, Alf Rush, Ed Ross, Dolph Levy, and myself. The Forestburg Rifles we called ourselves. Ed Ross was captain, and Lannie Sudduth and Bob Hardee, lieutenants. There were no other officers, for that would have left too few privates; but, as it was, our nine men marching single file and wide apart made a fine showing. Owen Prouty limping bravely along, brought up the rear. 'That lame Prouty boy' was the gamest fellow in the command and it nearly broke his heart when we marched away in earnest in sixty-one, and left him behind--the leader of the home-guard.

"The Rifles were armed with wooden guns, and drilled twice a week in Bert Martin's barn--drilled with almost the same precision and attention to the manual as we _had_ to do in later years. Ed Ross was a strict disciplinarian even then, and awfully in earnest. Indeed, we all were for that matter. When the notion is strong upon them, young folks beat their elders all hollow at that sort of thing. Every Sat.u.r.day afternoon at three o'clock, weather permitting, we met at our armory, and after some preliminary maneuvers marched down High Street. Old Cush Woodberry and the other loafers at Horton's would come out on the platform in front of the store and review the troops. The interest those lazy fellows took in us was astonishing. Old Cush even volunteered one day to give us some instructions in tactics, but our gallant captain courteously declined. There were others, though, who did not admire us so much. The green-eyed monster reigned supreme over on Liberty Street, and around by the court-house lot. There the country lads in town for Sat.u.r.day market were entrenched, and they jeered at us enviously from the line of wagons drawn up in battle array. Occasionally a rotten apple or potato would sail through the air in our direction, but we marched past our tormentors stiffly erect, and apparently unconscious. Had our numbers been stronger we would have joyfully stormed the enemy's works, but the country boys were bigger than we, and vastly more numerous; so with us discretion was indeed the better part of valor.

"The Rifles were organized just after school broke up, and flourished all that summer; a remarkable thing for Forestburg boys, for we were a squabbling lot, p.r.o.ne to quarrel and fight upon the slightest provocation. But in some way our captain held us together--just as he did afterward at Antietam and Gettysburg. Dear old chap, he holds us still!

"In early September we received our colors. Up to that time Owen Prouty had carried a small flag on his musket, but it had never been dignified as the company's colors. Our real flag was given to us by the little McDermott girl, and the giving was done so prettily and sweetly that our boyish hearts were touched--and this is saying a good deal. Not, indeed, that the Forestburg boys were rougher than other boys, for I guess they are all pretty much alike; but we had been taught to hate and shun the McDermotts. They were newcomers, and Danny McDermott had been a Young Irelander, or something else equally as dreadful. Then, too, Forestburg was a Knownothing stronghold, and we fell naturally into our daddies'

way of thinking. So we roundly snubbed the pleasant-faced Danny and his family whenever we had a chance, and the fellows at school used to bully Terence, the son, most atrociously. Yet as we marched by the McDermotts'

on Sat.u.r.day afternoons little Katie would always run out to the gate delightedly and wave a large flag, and after a while we came to look upon the little golden-haired child and her flag as quite a feature of our parade. Finally, one day she stepped into the street, and with a quaint curtsy presented the flag, garlanded with roses and b.u.t.tercups, to our captain. The command was at once ordered to halt, and all eyes were fixed upon Ed and the blushing child.

"'Attention!' shouted Captain Ross. We obeyed and looked straight ahead as good soldiers should, with a sly glance out of the corners of our eyes at our leader. But Ed knew just what to do. He faced about sharply, and made a low bow to the lady, took the flag held out to him, and then made a speech. Ed Ross was always a fine talker, and had won the elocution prize at school the year before. On this occasion he fairly surpa.s.sed himself. I have often thought of it since. At our next meeting we unanimously elected Miss Katherine Burke McDermott an honorary member of the Rifles. Tom Ryland's sister drew up the resolutions, and they were very beautiful.

"It was a sultry afternoon, and the little jury-room was suffocating.

The fight for a life which had raged out in the gloomy court-room for two weeks or more was now transferred to the ten by twelve cubby-hole where we had been cooped up since noon. The evidence against the prisoner was overwhelming, but some of the jurors still wavered as to their clear duty. Eight of us were for murder in the first degree; the others were in the same frame of mind, I am sure, but tantalizingly slow about saying so. It looked like an all-night struggle.

"Thrice since midday had Sheriff Watkins popped in his red head and asked if we had agreed upon a verdict, and as often had he angrily withdrawn. Watkins had a profound contempt for juries in general, and our jury in particular. According to the sheriff, the case of Commonwealth against Hardy was decided, and decided fully, when Dillingham finished his speech. Dillingham was the prosecuting attorney, and Watkins worshipped him down to the ground. Watkins was therefore clearly prejudiced, but in this instance his views were undeniably sound.

"The court, despairing and thirsty, had adjourned to meet at seven o'clock. In the jury-room all arguments for and against the stand taken by the unshaken eight seemed exhausted. The hours dragged wearily by. At half-past five o'clock, to our great surprise, three of the obstinate crowd came over to our way of thinking. Whether stern duty, our mutual discomfort, or the prospect of another night away from their families wrought this, I know not. So then, with the single exception of Colonel Ross, we were all for stringing up the prisoner.

"Colonel Ross still stuck out doggedly for a milder punishment--anything to save the poor devil's life, he said. For the first time in my career I rebelled against the judgment of my old friend, and for the first time found myself arrayed against him, and the novelty of the situation was far from agreeable. The clock in the town hall struck six, and the whistles down at Thayer's mill blew furiously. The Colonel was biting the ends of his mustache and gazing moodily into the crowded street below. I went up to him and put my hand on his shoulder.

"'Now, Colonel,' said I, in my most persuasive tones, 'can't you make up your mind to join us in this thing? We are all agreed except yourself.

G.o.d knows we have no personal feeling against Hardy. We are simply doing what we think is our duty, and a mighty nasty one it is, too! You know that. But we owe something to society--society, whose structure was shaken to its very foundation by the perpetration of this crime!

(Dillingham's own words.) The prisoner is clearly guilty. Why, the fellow practically confesses it. We ought to put some stop to the killing and general rascality up there in the settlement. Our section is fast becoming a monstrous blot on the fair name of the Commonwealth!

(Dillingham again.) What is there left for us to do but carry out the law? What is there left for----' My voice died away weakly. Something in the Colonel's face effectually blasted my budding eloquence. At that moment I felt myself a greater criminal than Hardy or any of his gang.

"Colonel Ross tapped the floor impatiently with his crutch. He was a testy man, but much was borne from him.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Colonel Ross addressing the jury.]

"'Gentlemen,' said he, his eyes flashing, 'I verily think that the good G.o.d above in His great wisdom and mercy picked out this jury Himself. I am sure He did. Now, listen to me. It will not take long.