"
"Then he should see to it," said Grey. "Elect Fremont, my boy, and the
Union will go to pieces. Does the North suppose we will endure a
sectional President? No, sir, it would mean secession--the death-knell of
the Union. Sir, we may be driven to more practical arguments by the
scurrilous speeches of the abolitionists. It is an attack on property, on
the ownership of the inferior race by the supremely superior. That is
the vital question."
He spoke with excitement and gesticulated as if at a political meeting.
Mark Rivers, annoyed, felt a strong inclination to box John's ears. He
took advantage of the pause to say, "Would you like a little more rye,
Mr. Grey?"
"Why, yes, sir. I confess to being a trifle dry. But to resume our
discussion--"
"Pardon me. John, ask for the whisky."
To John this was interesting and astonishing. He had never heard talk as
wild. The annoyance on Rivers's face was such as to be easily read by the
least observant. Elsewhere Mr. Rivers would have had a ready answer, but
as Grey sat still a little while enjoying his own eloquence, the fire and
the whisky, Rivers's slight negative hint informed John that he was to
hold his tongue.
As the clergyman turned to speak to Grey, the latter said, "I wish to add
a word more, sir.
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