RAILROAD SERVICE
From the operating-room of the telegraph office I had now stepped into
the open world, and the change at first was far from agreeable. I had
just reached my eighteenth birthday, and I do not see how it could be
possible for any boy to arrive at that age much freer from a knowledge
of anything but what was pure and good. I do not believe, up to that
time, I had ever spoken a bad word in my life and seldom heard one. I
knew nothing of the base and the vile. Fortunately I had always been
brought in contact with good people.
I was now plunged at once into the company of coarse men, for the
office was temporarily only a portion of the shops and the
headquarters for the freight conductors, brakemen, and firemen. All of
them had access to the same room with Superintendent Scott and myself,
and they availed themselves of it. This was a different world, indeed,
from that to which I had been accustomed. I was not happy about it. I
ate, necessarily, of the fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and
evil for the first time. But there were still the sweet and pure
surroundings of home, where nothing coarse or wicked ever entered, and
besides, there was the world in which I dwelt with my companions, all
of them refined young men, striving to improve themselves and become
respected citizens. I passed through this phase of my life detesting
what was foreign to my nature and my early education. The experience
with coarse men was probably beneficial because it gave me a "scunner"
(disgust), to use a Scotism, at chewing or smoking tobacco, also at
swearing or the use of improper language, which fortunately remained
with me through life.
I do not wish to suggest that the men of whom I have spoken were
really degraded or bad characters. The habit of swearing, with coarse
talk, chewing and smoking tobacco, and snuffing were more prevalent
then than to-day and meant less than in this age. Railroading was new,
and many rough characters were attracted to it from the river service.
But many of the men were fine young fellows who have lived to be
highly respectable citizens and to occupy responsible positions. And I
must say that one and all of them were most kind to me. Many are yet
living from whom I hear occasionally and regard with affection. A
change came at last when Mr. Scott had his own office which he and I
occupied.
I was soon sent by Mr. Scott to Altoona to get the monthly pay-rolls
and checks. The railroad line was not completed over the Allegheny
Mountains at that time, and I had to pass over the inclined planes
which made the journey a remarkable one to me. Altoona was then
composed of a few houses built by the company. The shops were under
construction and there was nothing of the large city which now
occupies the site. It was there that I saw for the first time the
great man in our railroad field--Mr. Lombaert, general superintendent.
His secretary at that time was my friend, Robert Pitcairn, for whom I
had obtained a situation on the railroad, so that "Davy," "Bob," and
"Andy" were still together in the same service. We had all left the
telegraph company for the Pennsylvania Railroad Company.
Mr. Lombaert was very different from Mr. Scott; he was not sociable,
but rather stern and unbending. Judge then of Robert's surprise, and
my own, when, after saying a few words to me, Mr. Lombaert added: "You
must come down and take tea with us to-night." I stammered out
something of acceptance and awaited the appointed hour with great
trepidation. Up to this time I considered that invitation the greatest
honor I had received. Mrs. Lombaert was exceedingly kind, and Mr.
Lombaert's introduction of me to her was: "This is Mr. Scott's
'Andy.'" I was very proud indeed of being recognized as belonging to
Mr. Scott.
An incident happened on this trip which might have blasted my career
for a time. I started next morning for Pittsburgh with the pay-rolls
and checks, as I thought, securely placed under my waistcoat, as it
was too large a package for my pockets. I was a very enthusiastic
railroader at that time and preferred riding upon the engine. I got
upon the engine that took me to Hollidaysburg where the State railroad
over the mountain was joined up. It was a very rough ride, indeed, and
at one place, uneasily feeling for the pay-roll package, I was
horrified to find that the jolting of the train had shaken it out. I
had lost it!
There was no use in disguising the fact that such a failure would ruin
me. To have been sent for the pay-rolls and checks and to lose the
package, which I should have "grasped as my honor," was a dreadful
showing. I called the engineer and told him it must have been shaken
out within the last few miles. Would he reverse his engine and run
back for it? Kind soul, he did so. I watched the line, and on the very
banks of a large stream, within a few feet of the water, I saw that
package lying. I could scarcely believe my eyes. I ran down and
grasped it. It was all right. Need I add that it never passed out of
my firm grasp again until it was safe in Pittsburgh? The engineer and
fireman were the only persons who knew of my carelessness, and I had
their assurance that it would not be told.
It was long after the event that I ventured to tell the story. Suppose
that package had fallen just a few feet farther away and been swept
down by the stream, how many years of faithful service would it have
required upon my part to wipe out the effect of that one piece of
carelessness! I could no longer have enjoyed the confidence of those
whose confidence was essential to success had fortune not favored me.
I have never since believed in being too hard on a young man, even if
he does commit a dreadful mistake or two; and I have always tried in
judging such to remember the difference it would have made in my own
career but for an accident which restored to me that lost package at
the edge of the stream a few miles from Hollidaysburg. I could go
straight to the very spot to-day, and often as I passed over that line
afterwards I never failed to see that light-brown package lying upon
the bank. It seemed to be calling:
"All right, my boy! the good gods were with you, but don't do it
again!"
At an early age I became a strong anti-slavery partisan and hailed
with enthusiasm the first national meeting of the Republican Party in
Pittsburgh, February 22, 1856, although too young to vote. I watched
the prominent men as they walked the streets, lost in admiration for
Senators Wilson, Hale, and others. Some time before I had organized
among the railroad men a club of a hundred for the "New York Weekly
Tribune," and ventured occasionally upon short notes to the great
editor, Horace Greeley, who did so much to arouse the people to action
upon this vital question.
The first time I saw my work in type in the then flaming organ of
freedom certainly marked a stage in my career. I kept that "Tribune"
for years. Looking back to-day one cannot help regretting so high a
price as the Civil War had to be paid to free our land from the curse,
but it was not slavery alone that needed abolition. The loose Federal
system with State rights so prominent would inevitably have prevented,
or at least long delayed, the formation of one solid, all-powerful,
central government. The tendency under the Southern idea was
centrifugal. To-day it is centripetal, all drawn toward the center
under the sway of the Supreme Court, the decisions of which are, very
properly, half the dicta of lawyers and half the work of statesmen.
Uniformity in many fields must be secured. Marriage, divorce,
bankruptcy, railroad supervision, control of corporations, and some
other departments should in some measure be brought under one head.
[Re-reading this paragraph to-day, July, 1907, written many years ago,
it seems prophetic. These are now burning questions.]
It was not long after this that the railroad company constructed its
own telegraph line. We had to supply it with operators. Most of these
were taught in our offices at Pittsburgh. The telegraph business
continued to increase with startling rapidity. We could scarcely
provide facilities fast enough. New telegraph offices were required.
My fellow messenger-boy, "Davy" McCargo, I appointed superintendent of
the telegraph department March 11, 1859. I have been told that "Davy"
and myself are entitled to the credit of being the first to employ
young women as telegraph operators in the United States upon
railroads, or perhaps in any branch. At all events, we placed girls in
various offices as pupils, taught and then put them in charge of
offices as occasion required. Among the first of these was my cousin,
Miss Maria Hogan. She was the operator at the freight station in
Pittsburgh, and with her were placed successive pupils, her office
becoming a school. Our experience was that young women operators were
more to be relied upon than young men. Among all the new occupations
invaded by women I do not know of any better suited for them than that
of telegraph operator.
Mr. Scott was one of the most delightful superiors that anybody could
have and I soon became warmly attached to him. He was my great man and
all the hero worship that is inherent in youth I showered upon him. I
soon began placing him in imagination in the presidency of the great
Pennsylvania Railroad--a position which he afterwards attained. Under
him I gradually performed duties not strictly belonging to my
department and I can attribute my decided advancement in the service
to one well-remembered incident.
The railway was a single line. Telegraph orders to trains often became
necessary, although it was not then a regular practice to run trains
by telegraph. No one but the superintendent himself was permitted to
give a train order on any part of the Pennsylvania system, or indeed
of any other system, I believe, at that time. It was then a dangerous
expedient to give telegraphic orders, for the whole system of railway
management was still in its infancy, and men had not yet been trained
for it. It was necessary for Mr. Scott to go out night after night to
break-downs or wrecks to superintend the clearing of the line. He was
necessarily absent from the office on many mornings.
One morning I reached the office and found that a serious accident on
the Eastern Division had delayed the express passenger train
westward, and that the passenger train eastward was proceeding with a
flagman in advance at every curve. The freight trains in both
directions were all standing still upon the sidings. Mr. Scott was not
to be found. Finally I could not resist the temptation to plunge in,
take the responsibility, give "train orders," and set matters going.
"Death or Westminster Abbey," flashed across my mind. I knew it was
dismissal, disgrace, perhaps criminal punishment for me if I erred. On
the other hand, I could bring in the wearied freight-train men who had
lain out all night. I could set everything in motion. I knew I could.
I had often done it in wiring Mr. Scott's orders. I knew just what to
do, and so I began. I gave the orders in his name, started every
train, sat at the instrument watching every tick, carried the trains
along from station to station, took extra precautions, and had
everything running smoothly when Mr. Scott at last reached the office.
He had heard of the delays. His first words were:
"Well! How are matters?"
He came to my side quickly, grasped his pencil and began to write his
orders. I had then to speak, and timidly said:
"Mr. Scott, I could not find you anywhere and I gave these orders in
your name early this morning."
"Are they going all right? Where is the Eastern Express?"
I showed him the messages and gave him the position of every train on
the line--freights, ballast trains, everything--showed him the answers
of the various conductors, the latest reports at the stations where
the various trains had passed. All was right. He looked in my face for
a second. I scarcely dared look in his. I did not know what was going
to happen. He did not say one word, but again looked carefully over
all that had taken place. Still he said nothing. After a little he
moved away from my desk to his own, and that was the end of it. He was
afraid to approve what I had done, yet he had not censured me. If it
came out all right, it was all right; if it came out all wrong, the
responsibility was mine. So it stood, but I noticed that he came in
very regularly and in good time for some mornings after that.
Of course I never spoke to any one about it. None of the trainmen knew
that Mr. Scott had not personally given the orders. I had almost made
up my mind that if the like occurred again, I would not repeat my
proceeding of that morning unless I was authorized to do so. I was
feeling rather distressed about what I had done until I heard from Mr.
Franciscus, who was then in charge of the freighting department at
Pittsburgh, that Mr. Scott, the evening after the memorable morning,
had said to him:
"Do you know what that little white-haired Scotch devil of mine did?"
"No."
"I'm blamed if he didn't run every train on the division in my name
without the slightest authority."
"And did he do it all right?" asked Franciscus.
"Oh, yes, all right."
This satisfied me. Of course I had my cue for the next occasion, and
went boldly in. From that date it was very seldom that Mr. Scott gave
a train order.
[Illustration: THOMAS A. SCOTT]
[Illustration: JOHN EDGAR THOMSON]
The greatest man of all on my horizon at this time was John Edgar
Thomson, president of the Pennsylvania, and for whom our steel-rail
mills were afterward named. He was the most reserved and silent of
men, next to General Grant, that I ever knew, although General
Grant was more voluble when at home with friends. He walked about as
if he saw nobody when he made his periodical visits to Pittsburgh.
This reserve I learned afterwards was purely the result of shyness. I
was surprised when in Mr. Scott's office he came to the telegraph
instrument and greeted me as "Scott's Andy." But I learned afterwards
that he had heard of my train-running exploit. The battle of life is
already half won by the young man who is brought personally in contact
with high officials; and the great aim of every boy should be to do
something beyond the sphere of his duties--something which attracts
the attention of those over him.
Some time after this Mr. Scott wished to travel for a week or two and
asked authority from Mr. Lombaert to leave me in charge of the
division. Pretty bold man he was, for I was then not very far out of
my teens. It was granted. Here was the coveted opportunity of my life.
With the exception of one accident caused by the inexcusable
negligence of a ballast-train crew, everything went well in his
absence. But that this accident should occur was gall and wormwood to
me. Determined to fulfill all the duties of the station I held a
court-martial, examined those concerned, dismissed peremptorily the
chief offender, and suspended two others for their share in the
catastrophe. Mr. Scott after his return of course was advised of the
accident, and proposed to investigate and deal with the matter. I felt
I had gone too far, but having taken the step, I informed him that all
that had been settled. I had investigated the matter and punished the
guilty. Some of these appealed to Mr. Scott for a reopening of the
case, but this I never could have agreed to, had it been pressed. More
by look I think than by word Mr. Scott understood my feelings upon
this delicate point, and acquiesced.
It is probable he was afraid I had been too severe and very likely he
was correct. Some years after this, when I, myself, was superintendent
of the division I always had a soft spot in my heart for the men then
suspended for a time. I had felt qualms of conscience about my action
in this, my first court. A new judge is very apt to stand so straight
as really to lean a little backward. Only experience teaches the
supreme force of gentleness. Light but certain punishment, when
necessary, is most effective. Severe punishments are not needed and a
judicious pardon, for the first offense at least, is often best of
all.
As the half-dozen young men who constituted our inner circle grew in
knowledge, it was inevitable that the mysteries of life and death, the
here and the hereafter, should cross our path and have to be grappled
with. We had all been reared by good, honest, self-respecting parents,
members of one or another of the religious sects. Through the
influence of Mrs. McMillan, wife of one of the leading Presbyterian
ministers of Pittsburgh, we were drawn into the social circle of her
husband's church. [As I read this on the moors, July 16, 1912, I have
before me a note from Mrs. McMillan from London in her eightieth year.
Two of her daughters were married in London last week to university
professors, one remains in Britain, the other has accepted an
appointment in Boston. Eminent men both. So draws our English-speaking
race together.] Mr. McMillan was a good strict Calvinist of the old
school, his charming wife a born leader of the young. We were all more
at home with her and enjoyed ourselves more at her home gatherings
than elsewhere. This led to some of us occasionally attending her
church.
A sermon of the strongest kind upon predestination which Miller heard
there brought the subject of theology upon us and it would not down.
Mr. Miller's people were strong Methodists, and Tom had known little
of dogmas. This doctrine of predestination, including infant
damnation--some born to glory and others to the opposite--appalled
him. To my astonishment I learned that, going to Mr. McMillan after
the sermon to talk over the matter, Tom had blurted out at the finish,
"Mr. McMillan, if your idea were correct, your God would be a perfect
devil," and left the astonished minister to himself.
This formed the subject of our Sunday afternoon conferences for many a
week. Was that true or not, and what was to be the consequence of
Tom's declaration? Should we no longer be welcome guests of Mrs.
McMillan? We could have spared the minister, perhaps, but none of us
relished the idea of banishment from his wife's delightful reunions.
There was one point clear. Carlyle's struggles over these matters had
impressed us and we could follow him in his resolve: "If it be
incredible, in God's name let it be discredited." It was only the
truth that could make us free, and the truth, the whole truth, we
should pursue.
Once introduced, of course, the subject remained with us, and one
after the other the dogmas were voted down as the mistaken ideas of
men of a less enlightened age. I forget who first started us with a
second axiom. It was one we often dwelt upon: "A forgiving God would
be the noblest work of man." We accepted as proven that each stage of
civilization creates its own God, and that as man ascends and becomes
better his conception of the Unknown likewise improves. Thereafter we
all became less theological, but I am sure more truly religious. The
crisis passed. Happily we were not excluded from Mrs. McMillan's
society. It was a notable day, however, when we resolved to stand by
Miller's statement, even if it involved banishment and worse. We young
men were getting to be pretty wild boys about theology, although more
truly reverent about religion.
The first great loss to our circle came when John Phipps was killed by
a fall from a horse. This struck home to all of us, yet I remember I
could then say to myself: "John has, as it were, just gone home to
England where he was born. We are all to follow him soon and live
forever together." I had then no doubts. It was not a hope I was
pressing to my heart, but a certainty. Happy those who in their agony
have such a refuge. We should all take Plato's advice and never give
up everlasting hope, "alluring ourselves as with enchantments, for the
hope is noble and the reward is great." Quite right. It would be no
greater miracle that brought us into another world to live forever
with our dearest than that which has brought us into this one to live
a lifetime with them. Both are equally incomprehensible to finite
beings. Let us therefore comfort ourselves with everlasting hope, "as
with enchantments," as Plato recommends, never forgetting, however,
that we all have our duties here and that the kingdom of heaven is
within us. It also passed into an axiom with us that he who proclaims
there is no hereafter is as foolish as he who proclaims there is,
since neither can know, though all may and should hope. Meanwhile
"Home our heaven" instead of "Heaven our home" was our motto.
During these years of which I have been writing, the family fortunes
had been steadily improving. My thirty-five dollars a month had grown
to forty, an unsolicited advance having been made by Mr. Scott. It was
part of my duty to pay the men every month.[19] We used checks upon
the bank and I drew my salary invariably in two twenty-dollar gold
pieces. They seemed to me the prettiest works of art in the world. It
was decided in family council that we could venture to buy the lot and
the two small frame houses upon it, in one of which we had lived, and
the other, a four-roomed house, which till then had been occupied by
my Uncle and Aunt Hogan, who had removed elsewhere. It was through the
aid of my dear Aunt Aitken that we had been placed in the small house
above the weaver's shop, and it was now our turn to be able to ask her
to return to the house that formerly had been her own. In the same way
after we had occupied the four-roomed house, Uncle Hogan having passed
away, we were able to restore Aunt Hogan to her old home when we
removed to Altoona. One hundred dollars cash was paid upon purchase,
and the total price, as I remember, was seven hundred dollars. The
struggle then was to make up the semi-annual payments of interest and
as great an amount of the principal as we could save. It was not long
before the debt was cleared off and we were property-holders, but
before that was accomplished, the first sad break occurred in our
family, in my father's death, October 2, 1855. Fortunately for the
three remaining members life's duties were pressing. Sorrow and duty
contended and we had to work. The expenses connected with his illness
had to be saved and paid and we had not up to this time much store in
reserve.
[Footnote 19: "I remember well when I used to write out the monthly
pay-roll and came to Mr. Scott's name for $125. I wondered what he did
with it all. I was then getting thirty-five." (Andrew Carnegie in
speech at Reunion of U.S. Military Telegraph Corps, March 28, 1907.)]
And here comes in one of the sweet incidents of our early life in
America. The principal member of our small Swedenborgian Society was
Mr. David McCandless. He had taken some notice of my father and
mother, but beyond a few passing words at church on Sundays, I do not
remember that they had ever been brought in close contact. He knew
Aunt Aitken well, however, and now sent for her to say that if my
mother required any money assistance at this sad period he would be
very pleased to advance whatever was necessary. He had heard much of
my heroic mother and that was sufficient.
One gets so many kind offers of assistance when assistance is no
longer necessary, or when one is in a position which would probably
enable him to repay a favor, that it is delightful to record an act of
pure and disinterested benevolence. Here was a poor Scottish woman
bereft of her husband, with her eldest son just getting a start and a
second in his early teens, whose misfortunes appealed to this man, and
who in the most delicate manner sought to mitigate them. Although my
mother was able to decline the proffered aid, it is needless to say
that Mr. McCandless obtained a place in our hearts sacred to himself.
I am a firm believer in the doctrine that people deserving necessary
assistance at critical periods in their career usually receive it.
There are many splendid natures in the world--men and women who are
not only willing, but anxious to stretch forth a helping hand to those
they know to be worthy. As a rule, those who show willingness to help
themselves need not fear about obtaining the help of others.
Father's death threw upon me the management of affairs to a greater
extent than ever. Mother kept on the binding of shoes; Tom went
steadily to the public school; and I continued with Mr. Scott in the
service of the railroad company. Just at this time Fortunatus knocked
at our door. Mr. Scott asked me if I had five hundred dollars. If so,
he said he wished to make an investment for me. Five hundred cents was
much nearer my capital. I certainly had not fifty dollars saved for
investment, but I was not going to miss the chance of becoming
financially connected with my leader and great man. So I said boldly I
thought I could manage that sum. He then told me that there were ten
shares of Adams Express stock that he could buy, which had belonged to
a station agent, Mr. Reynolds, of Wilkinsburg. Of course this was
reported to the head of the family that evening, and she was not long
in suggesting what might be done. When did she ever fail? We had then
paid five hundred dollars upon the house, and in some way she thought
this might be pledged as security for a loan.
My mother took the steamer the next morning for East Liverpool,
arriving at night, and through her brother there the money was
secured. He was a justice of the peace, a well-known resident of that
then small town, and had numerous sums in hand from farmers for
investment. Our house was mortgaged and mother brought back the five
hundred dollars which I handed over to Mr. Scott, who soon obtained
for me the coveted ten shares in return. There was, unexpectedly, an
additional hundred dollars to pay as a premium, but Mr. Scott kindly
said I could pay that when convenient, and this of course was an easy
matter to do.
This was my first investment. In those good old days monthly
dividends were more plentiful than now and Adams Express paid a
monthly dividend. One morning a white envelope was lying upon my desk,
addressed in a big John Hancock hand, to "Andrew Carnegie, Esquire."
"Esquire" tickled the boys and me inordinately. At one corner was seen
the round stamp of Adams Express Company. I opened the envelope. All
it contained was a check for ten dollars upon the Gold Exchange Bank
of New York. I shall remember that check as long as I live, and that
John Hancock signature of "J.C. Babcock, Cashier." It gave me the
first penny of revenue from capital--something that I had not worked
for with the sweat of my brow. "Eureka!" I cried. "Here's the goose
that lays the golden eggs."
It was the custom of our party to spend Sunday afternoons in the
woods. I kept the first check and showed it as we sat under the trees
in a favorite grove we had found near Wood's Run. The effect produced
upon my companions was overwhelming. None of them had imagined such an
investment possible. We resolved to save and to watch for the next
opportunity for investment in which all of us should share, and for
years afterward we divided our trifling investments and worked
together almost as partners.
Up to this time my circle of acquaintances had not enlarged much. Mrs.
Franciscus, wife of our freight agent, was very kind and on several
occasions asked me to her house in Pittsburgh. She often spoke of the
first time I rang the bell of the house in Third Street to deliver a
message from Mr. Scott. She asked me to come in; I bashfully declined
and it required coaxing upon her part to overcome my shyness. She was
never able for years to induce me to partake of a meal in her house. I
had great timidity about going into other people's houses, until late
in life; but Mr. Scott would occasionally insist upon my going to his
hotel and taking a meal with him, and these were great occasions for
me. Mr. Franciscus's was the first considerable house, with the
exception of Mr. Lombaert's at Altoona, I had ever entered, as far as
I recollect. Every house was fashionable in my eyes that was upon any
one of the principal streets, provided it had a hall entrance.
I had never spent a night in a strange house in my life until Mr.
Stokes of Greensburg, chief counsel of the Pennsylvania Railroad,
invited me to his beautiful home in the country to pass a Sunday. It
was an odd thing for Mr. Stokes to do, for I could little interest a
brilliant and educated man like him. The reason for my receiving such
an honor was a communication I had written for the "Pittsburgh
Journal." Even in my teens I was a scribbler for the press. To be an
editor was one of my ambitions. Horace Greeley and the "Tribune" was
my ideal of human triumph. Strange that there should have come a day
when I could have bought the "Tribune"; but by that time the pearl had
lost its luster. Our air castles are often within our grasp late in
life, but then they charm not.
The subject of my article was upon the attitude of the city toward the
Pennsylvania Railroad Company. It was signed anonymously and I was
surprised to find it got a prominent place in the columns of the
"Journal," then owned and edited by Robert M. Riddle. I, as operator,
received a telegram addressed to Mr. Scott and signed by Mr. Stokes,
asking him to ascertain from Mr. Riddle who the author of that
communication was. I knew that Mr. Riddle could not tell the author,
because he did not know him; but at the same time I was afraid that if
Mr. Scott called upon him he would hand him the manuscript, which Mr.
Scott would certainly recognize at a glance. I therefore made a clean
breast of it to Mr. Scott and told him I was the author. He seemed
incredulous. He said he had read it that morning and wondered who had
written it. His incredulous look did not pass me unnoticed. The pen
was getting to be a weapon with me. Mr. Stokes's invitation to spend
Sunday with him followed soon after, and the visit is one of the
bright spots in my life. Henceforth we were great friends.
The grandeur of Mr. Stokes's home impressed me, but the one feature of
it that eclipsed all else was a marble mantel in his library. In the
center of the arch, carved in the marble, was an open book with this
inscription:
"He that cannot reason is a fool,
He that will not a bigot,
He that dare not a slave."
These noble words thrilled me. I said to myself, "Some day, some day,
I'll have a library" (that was a look ahead) "and these words shall
grace the mantel as here." And so they do in New York and Skibo
to-day.
Another Sunday which I spent at his home after an interval of several
years was also noteworthy. I had then become the superintendent of the
Pittsburgh Division of the Pennsylvania Railroad. The South had
seceded. I was all aflame for the flag. Mr. Stokes, being a leading
Democrat, argued against the right of the North to use force for the
preservation of the Union. He gave vent to sentiments which caused me
to lose my self-control, and I exclaimed:
"Mr. Stokes, we shall be hanging men like you in less than six weeks."
I hear his laugh as I write, and his voice calling to his wife in the
adjoining room:
"Nancy, Nancy, listen to this young Scotch devil. He says they will be
hanging men like me in less than six weeks."
Strange things happened in those days. A short time after, that same
Mr. Stokes was applying to me in Washington to help him to a major's
commission in the volunteer forces. I was then in the Secretary of
War's office, helping to manage the military railroads and telegraphs
for the Government. This appointment he secured and ever after was
Major Stokes, so that the man who doubted the right of the North to
fight for the Union had himself drawn sword in the good cause. Men at
first argued and theorized about Constitutional rights. It made all
the difference in the world when the flag was fired upon. In a moment
everything was ablaze--paper constitutions included. The Union and Old
Glory! That was all the people cared for, but that was enough. The
Constitution was intended to insure one flag, and as Colonel Ingersoll
proclaimed: "There was not air enough on the American continent to
float two."