It was Peg, who had taken charge of our newspapers, to call our eyes to the business.
Peg's indignation ran high, for she was a tireless adherent of her “good little secretary,” who would be her ally against Mrs. Calhoun.
“Listen to this wretch!” cried Peg, as with the paper in her little claw she burst upon the General and me.
Thereupon she gave us the English of it, and being strung with anger, flourished it off with much spirit and effect.
While the General bent quiet ear, his brow lowered and his own anger began to run with Peg's.
“The scoundrel speaks of Van Buren,” said the General, when Peg was done; “but he means me. And so he applauds Calhoun! Then let him follow his applause for his support.” Then, to me directly: “Did you not in the beginning speak of calling Blair to found a paper? Write to him; bid him come at once. This Duff Green has done enough for punishment, and we will go about his destinies in ways not soon to be forgot.”
Within the hour, a word was on the road to Blair in Frankfort; a word to become at once the death-warrant of Duff Green's Telegraph and the reason of Blair's Globe, which last, as the General once said, grew up in a night like any Jonah's gourd, to cast a long, important shadow in affairs.
Duff Green, as if to observe the effect of his Calhoun-Van Buren shot, would call upon the General. It was my guardian Jim who told me of that visit.
“I was sort o' knockin' 'round,” said Jim, “like a blind dog in a meat shop, when dish yere Duff Green gentleman tells me to give you 'Howdy!' an' say he's waitin' to see you-all.”
“Where is he?” I asked.