Just then the wealthy planteress left, as though with a new idea in her head and heart.
But to quote the Doctor a little more. He said: "After the war I intend giving myself to the legal profession, and shall not return to the pulpit. I am keeping a spotted book. All persons who refuse to go into the army, or evade the conscript law by any dodge or subterfuge whatever, their names shall go down in the spotted book, to receive my special attention after the war, personally, professionally, and politically, and I swear it here and now; they shall be hunted in town, in the city, through the wilderness, out of the country, and peradventure a worse fate may befall them!"
He said: "If Southern independence can not be achieved I would prefer to go under the English or French flag. I could bear being whipped by the Mexicans, by England, by France, or by any other people under the sun—even by the Hottentots—but to be subjugated by a meddlesome pusillanimous race that says ceow for cow, is intolerable to the last degree."
Two years after this speech, when the war was over, we met the Doctor at the dinner-table of the City Hotel in New Orleans, most slouchfully dressed, and with an equally slouchful look; at least so imagination played through our optics. He was on a pilgrimage to Washington to swallow the hated "iron-clad," and obtain his pardon. We thought appearances indicated that he needed a pardon bad, both from Washington and from a higher source. No man in Texas had done more to promote secession. He was a violent denunciator of all who did not succumb to his way of thinking, and tacitly, at least, gave countenance to the mob spirit against them.
We say, is it strange that laymen should hold human life of little value when their spiritual leaders do the same. Here was a man who bore the tri-colored character of divine, educator and military captain, merging the whole in the low, despicable and intensely wicked character of duelist.
It is only two years since the writer was back in Texas a few months, and while there a political meeting was held at the city of H., one night. At that meeting Judge —— was one of the speakers, and in his speech made some caustic allusions to "scallawags" which the Doctor construed as intended by the speaker for him, whereupon the next day he addressed a note to the Judge, by the hand of his friend, demanding an explanation, which was refused because of the arrogant tone of the language in which the demand was made. A second note was dispatched, repeating the demand, and closing in case the Judge again declined explanation, with a challenge to fight, conceding to him choice of weapons and place. To this he declined as before, and for similar reasons; also, declined acceptance of the challenge on the grounds that, first, he had conscientious scruples, and second, it was a violation of the laws of the land, but that if attacked he should defend himself in accordance with the law and right of self-defense.
Now, at this stage of the affair the Doctor was reduced to the alternatives of yielding the point of honor or shooting on sight. He chose the latter. So, with divers and sundry weapons of death—a rifle, a double-barreled shot-gun, a six-shooter, and a pair of derringers, with, perhaps, a bowie-knife, meaning by the medley of arms to observe the nice point of using the same weapon the Judge might have when they met—he took position on Main Street, where his game had to pass in going from his house to his office, and waited there two or three hours, but the Judge did not appear. By this time a large crowd of the Doctor's friends and neutral spectators had gathered round, and the enraged divine—or colonel, as he was then called—stepped upon a dry goods box and harangued the excited crowd, closing up with the historic and threadbare denunciation of the Judge as "a scoundrel, a liar and a coward," and he would shoot him when and wherever he saw him. He then retired to private quarters, to be flattered by a few friends for his brave and chivalrous conduct. Of course the Judge was a scoundrel a liar and a coward, because the Colonel said so, in the God-defying spirit of hate and murder. He could not be a good man, an honest man, or a brave or true man, after this; no, the Colonel had said it before men and angels, and laughing devils, and the universe was bound to credit his ipse dixit. The parties, however, were soon reconciled by the good and pacific offices of the Masonic fraternity, of which they proved to be members. The Judge said he did not intend his remarks on scalawags for the Colonel, and did not know the Colonel was a Mason. And the Colonel said he did not know the Judge was a Mason, or he might have acted differently; that the Judge was a gentleman, and he certainly felt bound to make the amende honorable. How changed! The furious madman would have killed him but a few hours ago, but suddenly he becomes as "gentle as a sucking dove." O, poor deluded devotee of the dueling code, thou wouldst have imbrued thy hands in the blood of thy fellow, and on thine own mistaken suspicion! Well, God pity thee till thou learnest better, and ceasest thy barbarity of soul!