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This house had published in the East the campaign life of Lincoln which I had lately written, and I dare say would have published the volume of poems I had written earlier with my friend Piatt, if there had been any public for it; at least, I saw large numbers of the book on the counters.
They went by Raleigh C. H. and Fayetteville to Gauley Bridge, thence down the right bank of the Kanawha to Camp Piatt, thirteen miles above Charleston. In the evening of the 14th I left the camp at Flat-top with my staff and rode to Raleigh C. H. On the 15th we completed the rest of the sixty miles to Gauley Bridge.
"Say, party, was you up to the Friars' Convention last Sunday? Talk about fun, this sixty laughs in sixty minutes stunt looked like a Methodist watch meeting. "Honest, I felt sorry for Miss Piatt of 'The Merry Widow' bunch. She was elected to represent that outfit by the whole company Saturday night and then none of the girls showed up to vote for her.
"That New World, and Other Poems." By Mrs. S. M. B. PIATT. J. R. Osgood & Co., Boston. "Light on the Clouds; or, Hints of Comfort for Hours of Sorrow." By M. J. SAVAGE. Lockwood, Brooks & Co., Boston. "In the Sky Garden." By L. W. CHAMPNEY. The same. "The Religion of Evolution." By M. J. SAVAGE. The same. "Student Life at Harvard." The same. "Long Ago.
My uncle, Henry Piatt, thinks of building round there." Mrs. Percival Theory was capable of repeating statements like these thirty times over, of lingering on them for hours. She talked largely of herself, of her uncles and aunts, of her clothes past, present, and future.
But inwardly it was altogether different with me. Inwardly I was a poet, with no wish to be anything else, unless in a moment of careless affluence I might so far forget myself as to be a novelist. I was, with my friend J. J. Piatt, the half-author of a little volume of very unknown verse, and Mr. Lowell had lately accepted and had begun to print in the Atlantic Monthly five or six poems of mine.
The next three months may be regarded as a prolonged debate, accentuated by the seven joint discussions. The rival candidates traversed much the same territory, and addressed much the same audiences on successive days. At times, chance made them fellow-passengers on the same train or steamboat. Douglas had already begun his itinerary, when Lincoln's last note reached him in Piatt County.
In recognition of his services at Antietam, Sergeant McKinley was made second lieutenant, his commission dating from September 24, 1862, and on February 7, 1863, while at Camp Piatt, he was again promoted, receiving the rank of first lieutenant. In the retreat near Lynchburg, Va., his regiment marched 180 miles, fighting nearly all the time, with scarcely any rest or food.
This house had published in the East the campaign life of Lincoln which I had lately written, and I dare say would have published the volume of poems I had written earlier with my friend Piatt, if there had been any public for it; at least, I saw large numbers of the book on the counters.
It is impossible to speak of a great man without referring to the conflicts that made him great. "He makes no friend," says Tennyson, "who never made a foe." "The man who has no enemies," says Donn Piatt, "has no following." Opposition is one of the accepted marks of greatness. The opposition which great men aroused during their lifetime lives after them, and crops out again on a given occasion.
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