The world opened grandly to young Blaine at his graduation. His college
course had been a triumph, his reception home an ovation. The heart of
the great class beat with his; their hopes were justly high, and high
especially for him whom they had learned to love and honor. His power
to make friends and hold them was remarkable. Those who knew him best
loved him most.
One who knew so much of the world must see some of it, and as yet he
had traveled but little; but a good rest is taken, and the summer spent
at home. Old, familiar scenes are viewed through larger eyes. Books are
reviewed, fresh volumes read; the news, home and foreign, is seized
with a new avidity by one whose business of life is just beginning. As
yet, though, he has not been earning money, he has gained something he
can never lose, and that can never be stolen or borrowed from him. It
is his fortune; his father’s wise plan has been carried out, and he
is ready for business now. A call comes for a teacher in Blue Licks
Military Academy, at Georgetown, Kentucky, and he is selected and
recommended by the faculty for the place. He has never taught an hour.
Shall he go? He knows enough, has good command of himself, and from
careful observation, a fair knowledge of methods. He believes he can do
it, for, as yet, he has never failed, and has always been able to make
himself understood, whether in private conversations and discussions,
or society debates in college.
The question is decided. He is to receive a salary of five hundred
dollars a year, while boys of his age are working for eight and ten
dollars a month. It is a man’s work. He is to start September first,
and he will not be eighteen years old until January. There is not a
hair on his face. But there is a man within, strong in manly powers,
and rich in stores of knowledge.
He had a fine address, clear and strong of speech, large lustrous eyes,
fine conversational powers, and in all respects, of good appearance.
His youth was in his favor, since it made his accomplishments all the
more marvelous. He had been well written up and highly recommended
before going, so that anticipations were high on both sides.
It was harder than ever to say good-bye, especially for mother and
son, but it must be done. They recalled the time when their ancestors
left native land across the seas, to come to this country, and were
reconciled. His father and Uncle Will tried the name of Professor
on him before he started, and it seemed to fit, though at first it
startled him. It weighed him down with the gravity of his position, and
drove the last remnant of pedantry from him. He declined a tall hat and
discarded a cane. He was simple, genuine, and true, and went for just
what he was worth.
The trip to Pittsburgh, and down the river to Louisville, and out to
Georgetown by public conveyance, was full of interest to him, because
it was his country he was seeing. A steam-boat explosion, and talk of
an insurrection among the negroes, made him a little nervous. But the
fact that he was going to the state of Henry Clay, gave him a sort of
home feeling, and made him feel they were his sort of folks, and then
some of the students were from down that way, and he had met several of
the public men from Kentucky, besides Mr. Clay.
There happened to be an old Jacksonian Democrat in the stage-coach,
who had been attracted to the young professor by his manly bearing,
his quiet urbanity, which cost him no effort, and especially by his
politeness in giving a lady from the Blue Grass region a back seat,
insisting “that she take it” in a most gentlemanly manner, while he
took a far less comfortable one, riding backward. This brought him face
to face with a full-blooded Kentuckian of the old type.
“You are a native of the soil, I take it, sir?”
“Yes, sir, but not of this state.”
“Of what state, may I ask?”
“The Keystone state of Pennsylvania, sir,” with a suppressed air of
pride.
“Indeed, then you are from the North?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Clay has a good many friends up there, has he not?”
“Yes, sir, a great many.”
“Well, it was an awful whipping he got.”
“Yes, and he did not deserve it.”
“Didn’t deserve it?”
“I think not; he is a royal man, and would have made an excellent
president, in my judgment.”
“If he had not been a Whig; that spoils him. Strange how much good and
smartness a man may have, and not have good sense.”
“But he has good sense, in my judgment, if you will pardon me.”
“Young man, slavery is a Divine institution. That is fixed; the Bible
decides that!”
These words were said with great emphasis.
“Then what of the Declaration of Independence; does that conflict with
the Bible? Is that a Divine institution?”