"Every word of this prediction was literally fulfilled; nearly all the churches were used for the wounded and the Minnesota block and the very room, in which this declaration was made, became the 'Douglas Hospital.'

"What justification is there for all this?' asked Stewart.

"There is no justification,' replied Douglas. 'I will go as far as the Constitution will permit to maintain their just rights. But,' said he, rising to his feet and raising his arm, if the Southern States attempt to secede, I am in favor of their having just so many slaves, and just so much slave territory, as they can hold at the point of the bayonet, and no more.""

Five months after this remarkable conversation Stephen A. Douglas was no more.

CHAPTER XV.

WHEN Mr. Lincoln entered the White House on the night of March 4, 1861, he was nominally the President of the United States, but in fact his recognized authority extended only over the Northern and border States. the Southern tier was in a state of open revolt. The Union was disintegrated, the Constitution nullified and the opposing political theories of States' rights and centralization, brought into hostile relations by the unholy institution of slavery, were now preparing to decide the great dispute by force of arms.

Seven States had already passed ordinances of secession and had set up a provisional government, with Montgomery as the capital. North Carolina was the only Southern State that still hesitated. At first, the majority of its people were opposed to secession. This grand old State had special reason to cling to and reverence the Union. Within its borders had been fought some of the most sanguinary conflicts of the Revolution and, in the past, no State had been more loyal to the Constitution or more ready to sacrifice blood and treasure in its defense. Her patriotic feelings, however, were strongly opposed by the common sentiment of her sister States, to whom she was bound by ties of strongest sympathy and common interest. The disunion influences were thus too

strong to be resisted and the secession ordinance was passed, May 21, and the Southern Confederacy was complete.

The fight in the border States of Maryland, Kentucky and Missouri was long and bitter. The people were about equally divided, but the Union party finally triumphed, assisted, as it was, by the active sympathy and support of the North and the earnest co-operation of the administration. Mr. Lincoln clearly perceived the importance of retaining these States in the Union, not only for their moral influence but also because they formed a belt of neutral territory between the loyal and disloyal States. Had these States seceded, the war would, no doubt, have been greatly prolonged, the National Capital could not have been held against the enemy, and the issue would have been more doubtful than it was.

The difficulties that surrounded the administration were almost insuperable. There was incipient war, and no means of crushing it; rebellion, but the hands of the Government were tied. The majority of the army officers, who had been educated at West Point, and had gained skill from actual experience, violated their oaths and entered the armies of the South. The army and navy were demoralized and almost disorganized. The munitions of war had been largely transported to the South, and were now in the hands of the recalcitrants. The Treasury was empty, and the public credit exhausted. The administration was in the hands of men who were untried and inexperienced in the details of the governmental machinery. Moreover, the constant defections of men, who were believed to be thoroughly loyal, and the

outbreak of treasonable sentiments in quarters least expected, filled the hearts of loyal citizens with distrust and deepened their apprehensions. For a time, no active or aggressive policy was announced by the Government, and the people, forgetting that the new officers must have time to become accustomed to their duties before any decided change could be inaugurated, bewailed the apathy of the Government and began to hint that it was secretly in sympathy with the South. In addition to all this the European world either looked coldly on or extended sympathy and the implied promise of support in the future to the seceding States.

Mr. Lincoln had announced in his inaugural that he should never make war upon the South. If war must come, the disaffected people would themselves be the aggressors. Therefore, he awaited patiently the issue, all the time making active preparations for an emergency, but avoiding all appearance of hostility or any overt action which could be regarded as a provocation or excuse for war on the part of the South. Meantime, events in the seceding States were moving rapidly on towards the catastrophe. The leaders had determined upon separation at all hazards, and while the Northern States had been uncertain as to the course of events and disturbed by conflicting counsels and the embarrassments incident upon a change of administration, the fullest opportunities had been offered to the violent spirits of the South to conceive and carry out their treasonable plans. In South Carolina, the discontent was greatest and the disunion sentiment most violent. Here, naturally, the first outbreak occurred. The Confed

erate Government saw that a loyal garrison in Fort Sumter, in Charleston harbor, would materially interfere with their plans, and they determined to secure possession of the stronghold. When Major Anderson, the officer in command, refused to surrender, they opened fire upon the old flag, Friday morning, April 12.

Never before had the roar of hostile cannon so convulsed a mighty nation. The majority of the Northern people, while deeply troubled by the manifest hostility of their Southern brethren, could not yet believe that they would deliberately commence a great civil war. For more than a generation there had been no war of any magnitude upon American soil. Great industries and an immense traffic between the different sections, nurtured by peaceful influences, had banished the memories of the horror and carnage of war, and men now stood aghast at the thought that a war, whose consequences none could foresee, had suddenly come upon them, and that the great cities, the product and abode of the peaceful arts, might soon be given over to rapine and flames. There was no hamlet so remote but it might fear the coming of the ruthless invader, no homecircle which might not be broken. Yet the shock was not one of paralysis, but rather the blow which awakens from the lethargy of inaction and brings every faculty into instant and vigorous exercise. Much could be forgiven, but the insult to the old flag, around which clustered so many hallowed memories, and which represented all that was noble and enduring in republican institutions, could not be condoned.