The entire country was a magazine needing but a spark to
cause explosion. It was conceded that by noon we should know whether or
not this explosion was to come. Few of us there, whether Unionists or
not, had much better than contempt for the uncouth man from the West,
Lincoln, that most pathetic figure of our history, later loved by North
and South alike as greatest of our great men. We did not know him in our
valley. All of us there, Unionists or Secessionists, for peace or for
war, dreaded to hear of his election.
Colonel Sheraton met me at the door, his face flushed, his brow
frowning. He was all politics. "Have you any news?" he demanded. "Have
you heard from Leesburg, Washington?"
"Not as yet," I answered, "but there should be messages from Leesburg
within the next few hours." We had no telegraph in our valley at that
time.
"I have arranged with the postmaster to let us all know up here, the
instant he gets word," said Sheraton. "If that black abolitionist,
Lincoln, wins, they're going to fire one anvil shot in the street, and
we can hear it up this valley this far. If the South wins, then two
anvils, as fast as they can load. So, Mr. Cowles, if we hear a single
shot, it is war--_war_, I tell you!
"But come in," he added hastily.
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