in the projected railroad.  Douglas, Grant, Sherman,—­all had a definite relation to the Mexican War, and the new territory.  Douglas seemed to be taking renewed life from this interesting experience.  I was his companion all the time, loitering near as he talked to various notables.  I looked over this mass of humanity and thought of America as a whole, and wondered what it would do with its rich possessions, and its problems.  Its fate seemed hopelessly entangled, in spite of the material prosperity—­perhaps because of it.

CHAPTER XLII

I felt now the truth of Webster’s picturesque words that “the imprisoned winds were let loose.”  We might have a transcontinental railroad, and Douglas’ Illinois Central might connect Chicago with the Gulf of Mexico.  All of this building might go forward successfully.  But at the same time the slavery question would not down.  Even railroad building was a bone of contention, for as to a line to California it had been debated whether it should start from Chicago or from St. Louis.  Hence it was that every activity of Douglas had to reckon with the negro.  There were now great things to be done at Washington.  And as Dorothy had enjoyed herself so much during the winter that we had spent there, she was urging me to return.  I had my affairs now under better management, and communication with Chicago was rather convenient; besides Dorothy was not well.  The loss of Jenny and the death of her mother had visibly affected her health.  I decided at last to spend the winter in Washington.

The trip from Chicago to New York by boat and by train was as wearisome as before.  When we arrived in New York, Dorothy had to take to her bed and rest for two days before proceeding to Washington.

We took a house again, keeping Mammy for intimate service and supplementing her with two colored women who fitted in fairly well.  Our boy Reverdy was put in school.

I began to attend the sessions of the Senate, taking Dorothy when she wished to go.  Clay of Kentucky, after an absence of eight years, was back; here were also Webster and Calhoun, the lions of an earlier day.  They were enacting their last parts, trying to re-imprison the winds of destiny, which the events of the Mexican War had set to roaring over the land.  Young America, in the person of Douglas, faced the hierarchy of the earlier republic; and Seward of New York, older than Douglas by some twelve years, but less versatile and attractive, stood now as a spokesman for a new party.

If there were pessimists who believed that the Union was in danger at this time, Douglas was not of them.  He could not see the South, if reasonably accommodated, interfering with his ocean-bound republic.  He had elasticity, a fresh edge.  The coldness of dying arteries was not upon him, as in the case of Webster, Clay, and Calhoun.  He had great projects to forward, such as grants to secure the construction