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Updated: May 4, 2025
Cluyme ran his hand through his chop whiskers, and lowered his voice. "You're right, Hopper," he assented. "And if this city is going to be Union, we ought to know it right away." Stephen, listening with growing indignation to this talk, was unaware of a man who stood on the other side of the tree, and who now came forward before Mr. Hopper. He presented a somewhat uncompromising front. Mr.
Cluyme and Belle, and every man and woman and child in the city whom he knew. For she was his rightful prey, and he meant not to lose one tittle of enjoyment in the progress of the game. Many and many a night in the bare little back room at Miss Crane's, Eliphalet had gloated over the very event which was now come to pass. Not a step of the way but what he had lived through before.
Cluyme, who was in dry goods himself, was as ignorant when he left Eliphalet as when he met him. But he had a greater respect than ever for the shrewdness of the business manager of Carvel & Company.
None other than Albert Edward, Prince of Wales, Duke of Saxony, Duke of Cornwall and Rothesay, Earl of Chester and Carrick, Baron Renfrew, and Lord of the Isles. Out of compliment to the Republic which he visited, he bore the simple title of Lord Renfrew. Bitter tears of envy, so it was said, were shed in the other booths. Belle Cluyme made a remark which is best suppressed.
And from this meal may be reckoned the first appearance of the family of which Eliphalet Hopper was the head into polite society. If the Cluyme household was not polite, it was nothing. Eliphalet sat next to Miss Belle, and heard the private history of many old families, which he cherished for future use. Mrs. All of which is significant, but sordid and uninteresting.
The result of all this was to strike a little awe into the souls of many of her playmates. Little Eugenie nearly dropped a curtsey. Belle Cluyme was so impressed that she forgot for a whole hour to be spiteful. But Puss Russell kissed her on both cheeks, and asked her if she really wasn't nervous. "Nervous!" exclaimed Jinny, "why?" Miss Russell glanced significantly towards the doorway.
"My dear sir," said Mr. Cluyme, "I used often to go to Boston in the forties. In fact ahem I may claim to be a New Englander. Alas, no, I never met your father. But when I heard of the sad circumstances of his death, I felt as if I had lost a personal friend. His probity, sir, and his religious principles were an honor to the Athens of America. I have listened to my friend, Mr. Atterbury, Mr.
Stephen, scanning the Judge, was wondering how far he regarded the matter as a joke. "Well, madam," said Mr. Whipple, as he seated himself on the other end of the horsehair sofa, "I'll warrant when you left Boston that you did not expect to own a slave the day after you arrived in St. Louis." "But I do not own her," said Mrs. Brice. "It is my son who owns her." This was too much for Mr. Cluyme.
Some odd trick of the mind had put into his head two people Eliphalet Hopper and Jacob Cluyme. Was he like them? "Lige, you've got to decide. Do you love your country, sir? Can you look on while our own states defy us, and not lift a hand? Can you sit still while the Governor and all the secessionists in this state are plotting to take Missouri, too, out of the Union?
Mrs. Cluyme was as yet too stunned to speak. Only Stephen's mother sniffed gunpowder in the air. "This, Mr. Cluyme," said the Judge, mildly, "is an age of shifting winds. It was not long ago," he added reflectively, "when you and I met in the Planters' House, and you declared that every drop of Northern blood spilled in Kansas was in a holy cause. Do you remember it, sir?" Mr. Cluyme and Mr.
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