"Well, now," said Frank Russel, "I dare say it's so. I respect your sort of folks; you form an agreeable heroic poem, with which one can amuse the tediousness of life. I suppose it won't do you any good to tell you that you are getting immensely unpopular, with what you are doing."
"No," said Clayton, "it won't."
"I am really afraid," said Russel, "that they'll mob you, some of these bright days."
"Very well," said Clayton.
"Oh, of course. I knew it would be very well; but say, Clayton, what do you want to get up a petition on that point for? Why don't you get up one to prevent the separation of families? There's been such a muss made about that in Europe, and all round the world, that it's rather the fashion to move about that a little. Politicians like to appear to intend to begin to do something about it. It has a pleasing effect, and gives the northern editors and ministers something to say, as an apology for our sins. Besides, there are a good many simple-hearted folks, who don't see very deep into things, that really think it possible to do something effective on this subject. If you get up a petition for that, you might take the tide with you; and I'd do something about it, myself."
"You know very well, Frank, for I told you, that it's no use to pass laws for that, without giving the slaves power to sue or give evidence, in case of violation. The improvement I propose touches the root of the matter."
"That's the fact—it surely does!" said Russel. "And, for that very reason, you'll never carry it. Now, Clayton, I just want to ask you one question. Can you fight? Will you fight? Will you wear a bowie-knife and pistol, and shoot every fellow down that comes at you?"
"Why, no, of course, Frank. You know that I never was a fighting man. Such brute ways are not to my taste."
"Then, my dear sir, you shouldn't set up for a reformer in Southern States. Now, I'll tell you one thing, Clayton, that I've heard. You made some remarks at a public meeting, up at E., that have staked a mad-dog cry, which I suppose came from Tom Gordon. See here; have you noticed this article in the Trumpet of Liberty?" said he, looking over a confused stack of papers on his table. "Where's the article? Oh, here it is."