BOOK II.

Volume 3. 
I. Raw Material. 
II.  Abraham Lincoln
III.  In Which Stephen Learns Something
IV.  The Question
V. The Crisis
VI.  Glencoe

Volume 4. 
VII.  An Excursion
VIII.  The Colonel is Warned
IX.  Signs of the Times
X. Richter’s Scar,
XI.  How a Prince Came
XII.  Into Which a Potentate Comes
XIII.  At Mr. Brinsmade’s Gate
XIV.  The Breach becomes Too Wide
XV.  Mutterings

Volume 5. 
XVI.  The Guns of Sumter
XVII.  Camp Jackson
XVIII.  The Stone that is Rejected
XIX.  The Tenth of May. 
XX.  In the Arsenal
XXI.  The Stampede
XXII.  The Straining of Another Friendship
XXIII.  Of Clarence

BOOK III

Volume 6. 
I. Introducing a Capitalist
II.  News from Clarence
III.  The Scourge of War,
IV.  The List of Sixty
V. The Auction
VI.  Eliphalet Plays his Trumps

Volume 7. 
VII.  With the Armies of the West
VIII.  A Strange Meeting
IX.  Bellegarde Once More
X. In Judge Whipple’s Office
XI.  Lead, Kindly Light

Volume 8. 
XII.  The Last Card
XIII.  From the Letters of Major Stephen Brice
XIV.  The Same, Continued
XV.  The Man of Sorrows
XVI.  Annapolis

THE CRISIS

BOOK I

CHAPTER I

WHICH DEALS WITH ORIGINS

Faithfully to relate how Eliphalet Hopper came try St. Louis is to betray no secret.  Mr. Hopper is wont to tell the story now, when his daughter-in-law is not by; and sometimes he tells it in her presence, for he is a shameless and determined old party who denies the divine right of Boston, and has taken again to chewing tobacco.

When Eliphalet came to town, his son’s wife, Mrs:  Samuel D. (or S. Dwyer as she is beginning to call herself), was not born.  Gentlemen of Cavalier and Puritan descent had not yet begun to arrive at the Planters’ House, to buy hunting shirts and broad rims, belts and bowies, and depart quietly for Kansas, there to indulge in that; most pleasurable of Anglo-Saxon pastimes, a free fight.  Mr. Douglas had not thrown his bone of Local Sovereignty to the sleeping dogs of war.

To return to Eliphalet’s arrival,—­a picture which has much that is interesting in it.  Behold the friendless boy he stands in the prow of the great steamboat ‘Louisiana’ of a scorching summer morning, and looks with something of a nameless disquiet on the chocolate waters of the Mississippi.  There have been other sights, since passing Louisville, which might have disgusted a Massachusetts lad more.