Produced by David Widger
By Winston Churchill
I am going ahead two years. Two years during which a nation struggled inagony with sickness, and even the great strength with which she wasendowed at birth was not equal to the task of throwing it off. In 1620 aDutch ship had brought from Guinea to his Majesty's Colony of Virginiathe germs of that disease for which the Nation's blood was to be let sofreely. During these years signs of dissolution, of death, were notwanting.
In the city by the Father of Waters where the races met, men and womenwere born into the world, who were to die in ancient Cuba, who were to beleft fatherless in the struggle soon to come, who were to live to see newmonsters rise to gnaw at the vitals of the Republic, and to hear againthe cynical laugh of Europe. But they were also to see their country apower in the world, perchance the greatest power. While Europe hadwrangled, the child of the West had grown into manhood and taken a seatamong the highest, to share with them the responsibilities of manhood.
Meanwhile, Stephen Brice had been given permission to practise law in thesovereign state of Missouri. Stephen understood Judge Whipple better. Itcannot be said that he was intimate with that rather formidablepersonage, although the Judge, being a man of habits, had formed that oftaking tea at least once a week with Mrs. Brice. Stephen had learned tolove the Judge, and he had never ceased to be grateful to him for aknowledge of that man who had had the most influence upon his life,—Abraham Lincoln.
For the seed, sowed in wisdom and self-denial, was bearing fruit. Thesound of gathering conventions was in the land, and the Freeport Heresywas not for gotten.
We shall not mention the number of clients thronging to Mr. Whipple'soffice to consult Mr. Brice. These things are humiliating. Some ofStephen's income came from articles in the newspapers of that day. Whatfunny newspapers they were, the size of a blanket! No startling headlinessuch as we see now, but a continued novel among the advertisements on thefront page and verses from some gifted lady of the town, signed Electra.And often a story of pure love, but more frequently of ghosts or othereerie phenomena taken from a magazine, or an anecdote of a cat or achicken. There were letters from citizens who had the mania of print,bulletins of different ages from all parts of the Union, clippings out ofday-before-yesterday's newspaper of Chicago or Cincinnati to three-weeksletters from San Francisco, come by the pony post to Lexington and thendown the swift Missouri. Of course, there was news by telegraph, but thatwas precious as fine gold,—not to be lightly read and cast aside.
In the autumn of '59, through the kindness of Mr. Brinsmade, Stephen hadgone on a steamboat up the river to a great convention in Iowa. On thisexcursion was much of St. Louis's bluest blood. He widened his circle ofacquaintances, and spent much of his time walking the guards between MissAnne Brinsmade and Miss Puss Russell. Perhaps it is unfair to these youngladies to repeat what they said about Stephen in the privacy of theirstaterooms, gentle Anne remonstrating that they should not gossip, andlistening eagerly the while, and laughing at Miss Puss, whose mimicry ofStephen's severe ways brought tears to her eyes.
Mr. Clarence Colfax was likewise on the boat, and passing Stephen on theguards, bowed distantly. But once, on the return trip, when Stephen had awriting pad on his knee, the young South