“Not quite—­not quite.  I am of the belief that the wants of the Southern States should be considered, and the demand for their only possible labour considered.  I would re-open the slave-trade.  I may shock you, reverend sir, but that is my opinion.”

“And, as I observe,” said Rivers, “that also of some governors of States.”  He disliked being addressed as “reverend,” and knew how Penhallow would smile when captained.

There was a brief silence, what Rivers used to call the punctuation value of the pipe.  The Maryland gentleman was honestly clear in the statement of his political creed, and Rivers felt some need to be amiable and watchful of his own words in what he was longing to say.  John listened, amazed.  He had had his lesson in our history from two competent masters and was now intensely interested as he listened to the ultimate creed of the owner of men.

Grey had at last given up the cigar he had lighted over and over and let go out as often.  He set down his empty glass, and said with perfect courtesy, “I may have been excessive in statement.  I beg pardon for having spoken of, or rather hinted at, the need for a resort to arms.  That is never a pleasant hint among gentlemen.  I should like to hear how this awful problem presents itself to you, a clergyman of, sir, I am glad to know, my own church.”

“Yes, that is always pleasant to hear,” said Rivers.  “There at least we are on common ground.  I dislike these discussions, Mr. Grey, but I cannot leave you without a reply, although in this house (and he meant the hint to have its future usefulness) politics are rarely discussed.”

“Indeed!” exclaimed Grey.  “At home we talk little else.  I do believe the watermelons and the pumpkins talk politics.”

Rivers smiled.  “I shall reply to you, of course.  It will not be a full answer.  I want to say that this present trouble is not a quarrel born within the memory of any living man.  The colonial life began with colonial differences and aversions due to religion—­Puritan, Quaker and Church of England, intercolonial tariffs and what not.  For the planter-class we were mere traders; they for us were men too lightly presumed to live an idle life of gambling, sport and hard drinking—­a life foreign to ours.  The colonies were to one another like foreign countries.  In the Revolution you may read clearly the effect of these opinions, when Washington expressed the wish that his officers would forget that they came from Connecticut or Virginia, and remember only they were Americans.”

Grey said, “We did our share, sir.”