“Do have some more of that fried chicken, Judge,” said Virginia.

Mr. Whipple helped himself fiercely, and the Colonel smiled.

“You should be satisfied now,” said he.  “Another Northern man is in the White House.”

“Buchanan!” roared the Judge, with his mouth full.

“Another traitor, sir.  Another traitor worse than the first.  He swallows the Dred Scott decision, and smirks.  What a blot on the history of this Republic!  O Lord!” cried Mr. Whipple, “what are we coming to?  A Northern man, he could gag and bind Kansas and force her into slavery against the will of her citizens.  He packs his Cabinet to support the ruffians you send over the borders.  The very governors he ships out there, his henchmen, have their stomachs turned.  Look at Walker, whom they are plotting against in Washington.  He can’t stand the smell of this Lecompton Constitution Buchanan is trying to jam down their throats.  Jefferson Davis would have troops there, to be sure that it goes through, if he had his way.  Can’t you see how one sin leads to another, Carvel?  How slavery is rapidly demoralizing a free people?”

“It is because you won’t let it alone where it belongs, sir,” retorted the Colonel.  It was seldom that he showed any heat in his replies.  He talked slowly, and he had a way of stretching forth his hand to prevent the more eager Judge from interrupting him.

“The welfare of the whole South, as matters now stand, sir, depends upon slavery.  Our plantations could not exist a day without slave labor.  If you abolished that institution, Judge Whipple, you would ruin millions of your fellow-countrymen,—­you would reduce sovereign states to a situation of disgraceful dependence.  And all, sir,” now he raised his voice lest the Judge break in, “all, sir, for the sake of a low breed that ain’t fit for freedom.  You and I, who have the Magna Charta and the Declaration of Independence behind us, who are descended from a race that has done nothing but rule for ten centuries and more, may well establish a Republic where the basis of stability is the self-control of the individual—­as long as men such as you and I form its citizens.  Look at the South Americans.  How do Republics go there?  And the minute you and I let in niggers, who haven’t any more self-control than dogs, on an equal basis, with as much of a vote as you have,—­niggers, sir, that have lived like wild beasts in the depths of the jungle since the days of Ham, —­what’s going to become of our Republic?”

“Education,” cried the Judge.

But the word was snatched out of his mouth.

“Education isn’t a matter of one generation.  No, sir, nor two, nor three, nor four.  But of centuries.”

“Sir,” said the Judge, “I can point out negroes of intelligence and learning.”

“And I reckon you could teach some monkeys to talk English, and recite the catechism, and sing emotional hymns, if you brought over a couple of million from Africa,” answered the Colonel, dryly, as he rose to put on his hat and light a cigar.