white heat. Then came the great struggle of 1854 for the repeal of the Missouri Compromise. "Is it not hard," asked Mr. Badger, of North Carolina, during the discussion of the bill, "if I should choose to emigrate to Kansas that I should be forbidden to take my old mammy [slave nurse] along with me?" "The Senator entirely mistakes our position," responded Mr. Wade, of Ohio. "We have not the least objection, and would oppose no obstacle to the Senator's migrating to Kansas and taking his old mammy' along with him. We only insist that he shall not be empowered to sell her after taking her there." As late as half-past eleven o'clock on the evening of March 3, Stephen A. Douglass rose in the Senate to answer his adversaries, close the debate, and demand a final He talked until the somber dawn of the morning of March 4, and his words were well fitted to his thought. The great crowd that hung upon his accents forgetful of fatigue, saw that he was animated by a purpose not only clear to himself but convincing in its presentation. When he ceased speaking and the audience rose to depart, the guns of the Navy Yard proclaimed the triumph of the principle of popular sovereignty.

vote.

A net-work of complications followed almost immediately. The people were to do as they pleased in the new States and Territories respecting the introduction or exclusion of slavery. But the picturesque wilds known as Kansas and Nebraska were as yet sparsely populated, and society wholly unformed. The opponents of the bill hurried off parties of settlers from the Northern and Eastern States with all possible dispatch to plant homes, found families, and vote against slavery; and the Missourians crossed the border in crowds to vote down and remove the abolitionists. Thus the fierce conflict was inaugurated that raged with varying degrees of violence for six successive years. The political condition of the country at this particular epoch is a curious study; it might be likened to the "witches' caldron" out of which proceeded spirits black and spirits white, spirits red and spirits blue, spirits gray and yellow and green, and spirits without color, followed by a magical transformation scene, bringing into strong light two substantial and well-defined figures, with several shadowy companions of lesser magnitude. There was, in truth, a fusion of the political elements, and the Old Line Whigs" disappeared. The Republican party was formed in the summer of 1854 for the sole purpose of grappling with the monster, slavery, and its ingredients were Whigs, Free Soilers, a liberal mixture of Democrats, and a slight coloring of other forces. It was a gigantic infant, and even in its swaddling clothes gave promise of uncommon future strength. The Democratic party made up for its contribution to the Republicans with Whig reinforcements, and prepared to withstand the common enemy.

The "American" or "Know Nothing" party, in taking a new lease of life about the same time spread itself all over the country. Its policy was war upon the influence of foreign-born voters and politicians. All its operations were in secret, and it had an elaborate code of signals and pass-words.

It was a torment to the Republicans, and in no sense a delight to the Democrats. It had a flourishing existence for some three or more years, and nominated its own President months before the other parties took the field. Millard Fillmore was its unsuccessful candidate.

The Republicans chose John C. Fremont as their first candidate. He

was fifty-three years of age, a man of fine presence, and many personal attractions, and exceedingly popular among the people at large, who remembered his exploits and perils as a "Pathfinder," and that his name was identified with the passes and defiles of the Rocky Mountains, and the great interests of the Pacific coast. The leaders of the new party were jubilant; it was meeting with extraordinary success, and the accessions it received from the various organizations and factions inspired hopes, which it was thought might be realized-if every available shoulder was put to the wheel. The canvass was remarkable in every respect. The Democrats were seriously divided in sentiment; in Cincinnati Stephen A. Douglas, Franklin Pierce, and James Buchanan were prominent before the convention. Great excitement prevailed, particularly when two sets of delegates, the "hards" and the "softs," appeared from New York, and two sets from Missouri. The latter in knocking for admission knocked down the doorkeeper, and created so much riotous confusion that they were excluded altogether. The New Yorkers were, after some delay, admitted --both opposing delegations-each delegate to have half a vote. There was no little bitterness manifested in the convention. It is was not until the seventeenth ballot that Buchanan was nominated, with John C. Breckinridge for Vice-President.

The whole North henceforward was a stirring scene of marches and parades, bonfires and torch-lights, immense public meetings, eloquent speeches, songs and catch-words, and all sorts of minor proceedings and demonstrations during the campaign. The conspicuous morality, and the clearly understood policy of the Republicans contributed greatly to their advantage. Slavery was the all-absorbing topic, except with the "Know Nothings." The curious electioneering processes at this time, particularly at the West, would form an interesting chapter. In Northern Ohio, for instance, the "Know Nothings" held their meetings in barns and in all sorts of out-of-the-way buildings, never twice in the same place. The mystery hanging about them made them appear more formidable than they really were. In the South-west, a long way this side of Kansas, candidates for local and other offices went from house to house soliciting votes. A story is told of two opposing candidates who spent a night together in a cabin. One thought to make himself interesting (and thus secure the vote from the cabin) by offering to bring the housewife a bucket of water from a distant spring: the other took immediate occasion to court the baby, and succeeded so happily that the man with the waterbucket set it down upon his return in despair. A member of Congress from this region, who became chairman of Ways and Means, and was

Speaker of the House through two Congresses, from 1851 to 1855, in his early electioneering journeys always carried his fiddle with him, and played for the people to dance at night wherever he happened to stop. He had very little education, no knowledge of English grammar at the beginning of his career, and his speeches were exceedingly crude. But his fiddling and dancing, fine personal appearance, and wonderful tact in mingling with the people, through which he won their personal admiration and favor, enabled him to secure his re-election for every successive term during three entire decades. He was beaten at last by a younger and more vigorous man, who rode a fleeter horse in John Gilpin fashion, and reached more remote towns, and made more convincing speeches which no energetic opponent was on the ground to answer, than any other candidate before him had thought of doing. At the South this Presidential election was very quietly conducted. No one in that section thought of voting for Fremont. Buchanan was opposed only in a mild way by Fillmore.* Fremont almost failed, however, of being "unsuccessful" through the enthusiasm of Northern voters, and to the surprise of the world received one hundred and fourteen electoral votes, only sixty less than Buchanan, who became President. Fillmore received eight electoral votes-all from the State of Maryland.

The next four years was a period in American history of intense intellectual activity. The solution of the slavery problem, so far as its extension into new States and Territories was concerned, was uppermost in the public mind. Good men and true were horrified at each other's opinions. There were two ways-or more-to interpret every political measure; like the ingenious sign-board which approached from one direction read one thing, and from the opposite direction read quite another. Darkening storm-clouds, changeful and appalling in their general aspect, danced through the skies, and settled in threatening and consolidated columns at the North and at the South. Peacemakers were busy, but their efforts were as ineffectual as the barricade erected to stay the progress of a cyclone.

The unsuccessful candidate for the Presidency, Stephen A. Douglas, displayed his giant abilities at this crisis. He led the party that occupied the line, or middle ground, between the two great antagonizing forces. He was a whole-souled Democrat, and the indefatigable advocate of western interests and development. He was a native of Vermont, and when defeated for the Presidency was forty-seven years of age. In 1833, then only twenty, he traveled West to seek his fortune; and near Jacksonville, Illi* This Magazine, in March, 1884 (XI. 191), published the portrait of President Fillmore.

nois, taught school, and studied law. The next year he was admitted to the bar, and entered upon the practice of his profession. Prior to 1835 his genius had attracted marked attention, and he was elected Attorney-general of the State. The next year he was sent to the legislature; and in one more year was the unsuccessful Democratic candidate for Congress. He was beaten by only five votes in a poll of 36,000. He had traversed Illinois when it was almost roadless. A gentleman who saw him come in from that canvass at Chicago, said his horse, his clothes, his boots, and his hat were all worn out. He had to use a rope for a bridle, and his saddlebags looked as if they had seen the wars of a century. In 1840 he traveled seven months, and addressed two hundred and seven meetings in the interest of Van Buren, who carried Illinois, although Harrison was elected President. He was appointed secretary of state for Illinois the same year; and shortly after was made Judge of the Supreme Court by the Illinois legislature. He was at this time a bright, sparkling, impulsive young man of only twenty-seven. In 1843, at thirty, he was sent to Congress, was twice re-elected to the House, and in 1847 took his seat in the United States Senate for the full term of six years. He was twice re-elected to the Senate, in which he remained until his death, thus serving eighteen years in the legislative councils of the nation. He was great intellectually, great in original resource. He was a short, stout man, with an exceedingly large head, and an earnest, impressive face.

He struck out a path for himself, and his personal magnetism, wonderful energy, quick intelligence, and calmness in reasoning placed him among the foremost of statesmen. He was not a product of the time, but he attempted to reconstruct the time. His famous bill of 1854 will ever be a point to date from in American history, as it was the prelude to the fearful strife in Kansas, which was the prelude to open civil war. His position in regard to popular rights he boldly maintained, and in resisting the Lecompton (fraudulent) Constitution became involved in a controversy with President Buchanan. His re-election to the Senate over Abraham Lincoln in 1858 was notable from the fact that these two eminent candidates conducted the canvass in person, holding joint discussions in many places. When Douglas first heard who was to be his adversary, he exclaimed, “I shall have my hands full; he is the strong man of his party-full of rich facts, dates, and the best stump-speaker, with his droll ways and dry jokes, in the West; he is as honest as he is shrewd, and if I beat him, my victory will be hardly won."

Congress and the whole country were in feverish excitement as the time drew near for the nineteenth Presidential election. Angry threats,