University of Virginia Library

43. CHAPTER XLIII.

The very next day, sure enough, the campaign opened.
In due course, the Speaker of the House reached that
Order of Business which is termed “Notices of Bills,” and
and then the Hon. Mr. Buckstone rose in his place and gave
notice of a bill “To Found and Incorporate the Knobs Industrial
University,” and then sat down without saying anything
further. The busy gentlemen in the reporters' gallery
jotted a line in their note-books, ran to the telegraphic desk
in a room which communicated with their own writing-parlor,
and then hurried back to their places in the gallery; and
by the time they had resumed their seats, the line which
they had delivered to the operator had been read in telegraphic
offices in towns and cities hundreds of miles away. It was
distinguished by frankness of language as well as by brevity:

For some time the correspondents had been posting their
several journals upon the alleged disreputable nature of the
bill, and furnishing daily reports of the Washington gossip
concerning it. So the next morning, nearly every newspaper
of character in the land assailed the measure and hurled
broadsides of invective at Mr. Buckstone. The Washington
papers were more respectful, as usual—and conciliatory,
also, as usual. They generally supported measures, when it
was possible; but when they could not they “deprecated”
violent expressions of opinion in other journalistic quarters.

They always deprecated, when there was trouble ahead.

However, The Washington Daily Love-Feast hailed the
bill with warm approbation. This was Senator Balaam's
paper—or rather, “Brother” Balaam, as he was popularly
called, for he had been a clergyman, in his day; and he himself
and all that he did still emitted an odor of sanetity now
that he had diverged into journalism and polities. He was a
power in the Congressional prayer meeting, and in all movements
that looked to the spread of religion and temperance.
His paper supported the new bill with gushing affection; it
was a noble measure; it was a just measure; it was a generous
measure; it was a pure measure, and that surely should
recommend it in these corrupt times; and finally, if the
nature of the bill were not known at all, the Love-Feast would
support it anyway, and unhesitatingly, for the fact that Senator
Dilworthy was the originator of the measure was a guaranty
that it contemplated a worthy and righteous work.

Senator Dilworthy was so anxious to know what the New
York papers would say about the bill, that he had arranged
to have synopses of their editorials telegraphed to him; he
could not wait for the papers themselves to crawl along down
to Washington by a mail train which has never run over a cow
since the road was built, for the reason that it has never
been able to overtake one. It carries the usual “cow-catcher”

[ILLUSTRATION]

WHERE THE PROTECTION IS NEEDED.

[Description: 499EAF. Page 392. In-line image of a man jumping off a train as a bull jumps onto the train.] in front of the locomotive, but this is mere ostentation.
It ought to be attached to the rear car, where it could
do some good; but instead, no provision is made there for the
protection of the traveling public, and hence it is not a matter
of surprise that cows so frequently climb aboard that train
and among the passengers.

The Senator read his dispatches aloud at the breakfast
table. Laura was troubled beyond measure at their tone, and
said that that sort of comment would defeat the bill; but the
Senator said:

“Oh, not at all, not at all, my child. It is just what we
want. Persecution is the one thing needful, now—all the
other forces are secured. Give us newspaper persecution
enough, and we are safe. Vigorous persecution will alone
carry a bill sometimes, dear; and when you start with a
strong vote in the first place, persecution comes in with
double effect. It scares off some of the weak supporters, true,
but it soon turns strong ones into stubborn ones. And then,
presently, it changes the tide of public opinion. The great
public is weak-minded; the great public is sentimental; the
great public always turns around and weeps for an odious
murderer, and prays for him, and carries flowers to his prison
and besieges the governor with appeals to his clemency, as soon

as the papers begin to howl for that man's blood.—In a word,
the great putty-hearted public loves to `gush,' and there is
no such darling opportunity to gush as a case of persecution
affords.”

“Well, uncle, dear, if your theory is right, let us go into
raptures, for nobody can ask a heartier persecution than these
editorials are furnishing.”

“I am not so sure of that, my daughter. I don't entirely
like the tone of some of these remarks. They lack vim, they
lack venom. Here is one calls it a `questionable measure.'
Bah, there is no strength in that. This one is better; it calls
it `highway robbery.' That sounds something like. But
now this one seems satisfied to call it an `iniquitous scheme!'
—`Iniquitous' does not exasperate anybody; it is weak—puerile.
The ignorant will imagine it to be intended for a compliment.
But this other one—the one I read last—has the
true ring: `This vile, dirty effort to rob the public treasury,
by the kites and vultures that now infest the filthy den called

Congress'—that is admirable, admirable! We must have
more of that sort. But it will come—no fear of that; they're
not warmed up, yet. A week from now you'll see.”

“Uncle, you and Brother Balaam are bosom friends—why
don't you get his paper to persecute us, too?”

“It isn't worth while, my daughter. His support doesn't
hurt a bill. Nobody reads his editorials but himself. But I
wish the New York papers would talk a little plainer. It is
annoying to have to wait a week for them to warm up. I
expected better things at their hands—and time is precious,
now.”

At the proper hour, according to his previous notice, Mr.
Buckstone duly introduced his bill entitled “An Act to
Found and Incorporate the Knobs Industrial University,”
moved its proper reference, and sat down.

The Speaker of the House rattled off this observation:

“'Fnobjectionbilltakuzhlcourssoreferred!”

Habitués of the House comprehended that this long, lightning-heeled
word signified that if there was no objection, the
bill would take the customary course of a measure of its nature,
and be referred to the Committee on Benevolent Appropriations,
and that it was accordingly so referred. Strangers
merely supposed that the Speaker was taking a gargle for
some affection of the throat.

The reporters immediately telegraphed the introduction
of the bill.—And they added:

The storm came, and during ten days it waxed more and
more violent day by day. The great “Negro University
Swindle” became the one absorbing topic of conversation
throughout the Union. Individuals denounced it, journals
denounced it, public meetings denounced it, the pictorial
papers caricatured its friends, the whole nation seemed to be
growing frantic over it. Meantime the Washington correspondents
were sending such telegrams as these abroad in the
land: Under date of—

Later on:

Later:

After a day or two of reluctant and ambiguous telegrams:

And still later:

Next day:

Later—midnight: