Though he was not especially versed in the learning of the schools, Walter Page’s father had a mind that was keen and far-reaching.  He was a pioneer in politics as he was in the practical concerns of life.  Though he was the son of slave-holding progenitors and even owned slaves himself, he was not a believer in slavery.  The country that he primarily loved was not Moore County or North Carolina, but the United States of America.  In politics he was a Whig, which meant that, in the years preceding the Civil War, he was opposed to the extension of slavery and did not regard the election of Abraham Lincoln as a sufficient provocation for the secession of the Southern States.  It is therefore not surprising that Walter Page, in the midst of the London turmoil of 1916, should have found his thoughts reverting to his father as he remembered him in Civil War days.  That gaunt figure of America’s time of agony proved an inspiration and hope in the anxieties that assailed the Ambassador.  “When our Civil War began,” wrote Page to Col.  Edward M. House—­the date was November 24, 1916, one of the darkest days for the Allied cause—­“every man who had a large and firm grip on economic facts foresaw how it would end—­not when but how.  Young as I was, I recall a conversation between my father and the most distinguished judge of his day in North Carolina.  They put down on one side the number of men in the Confederate States, the number of ships, the number of manufactures, as nearly as they knew, the number of skilled workmen, the number of guns, the aggregate of wealth and of possible production.  On the other side they put down the best estimate they could make of all these things in the Northern States.  The Northern States made two (or I shouldn’t wonder if it were three) times as good a showing in men and resources as the Confederacy had.  ‘Judge,’ said my father, ’this is the most foolhardy enterprise that man ever undertook.’  But Yancey of Alabama was about that time making five-hour speeches to thousands of people all over the South, declaring that one Southerner could whip five Yankees, and the awful slaughter began and darkened our childhood and put all our best men where they would see the sun no more.  Our people had at last to accept worse terms than they could have got at the beginning.  This World War, even more than our Civil War, is an economic struggle.  Put down on either side the same items that my father and the judge put down and add the items up.  You will see the inevitable result.”

If we are seeking an ancestral explanation for that moral ruggedness, that quick perception of the difference between right and wrong, that unobscured vision into men and events, and that deep devotion to America and to democracy which formed the fibre of Walter Page’s being, we evidently need look no further than his father.  But the son had qualities which the older man did not possess—­an enthusiasm for literature and learning, a love of the beautiful in Nature and