“How did Mr. Lafitte enjoy it, sir?” asked Emily, blandly. “Oh, he—well, I was rather amused at the way he took it,” responded Mr. Atkins, laughing. “It quite upset him, and in his hot, Southern way, he said Phillips ought to be shot. In fact, I thought Lafitte was rather thin-skinned about it, though, to be sure, Phillips’s words are enough to try a saint. Anyhow, Lafitte felt ’em rankle.” “He must certainly, to have had so murderous a spirit aroused in him,” remarked Mrs. Eastman. “Murderous? Upon my word, Serena,” replied the merchant, bluffly, “I think his spirit was not unworthy of a man of high tone, and I shouldn’t blame him at all if he had pistolled your orator on the spot.” “Like the assassin who bludgeoned Otis in Revolutionary times,” remarked Witherlee, blandly aggravating. “Oh, you young men are all tainted with fanaticism,” returned Mr. Atkins, reddening. “When you’re older you’ll know better. I’m always sorry to see young men of talent, like Mr. Harrington here, misled by Phillips’s eloquent abstractions. But live and learn, live and learn.” “I hope, Mr. Atkins, I shall not live to learn distrust in the statesmanship that reprobates slavery,” said Harrington, urbanely. “Statesmanship!” contemptuously exclaimed the merchant. “Do you call such incendiary measures as Phillips and Parker advise, statesmanship? Sedition and treason! I declare, Mr. Harrington—and I say this coolly, in sober earnest—that if any one were to shoot down Phillips and Parker in the street, and I were summoned as a Grand Juror to pass upon the act, I would refuse to indict him on the ground that it was justifiable homicide. Yes, sir, justifiable homicide. I have said it a hundred times, and I now say it again. What do you think of that, Mr. Harrington?” Harrington met the insulting exultation of the merchant’s gaze, with a look quiet and firm. “Since you ask me what I think of it, Mr. Atkins,” he replied, tranquilly, “you must permit me to say that I think it atrocious.” “And so do I,” said Mrs. Eastman, crimson with indignation. “And you ought to blush, Lemuel, to say that you would give legality to a ferocious murder.” “Ought I?” replied the merchant, coolly. “Well, I don’t, Serena. In such a case, killing’s no murder. Murder, indeed! Ha! men like those to dare to wage war on the institutions of their country!” “What institutions do they wage war upon, Mr. Atkins?” asked Wentworth, civilly. “Well, sir, slavery for one,” excitedly returned the merchant. “An institution expressly sanctioned by the Constitution, and on the protection of which the safety of this Union depends, Mr. Wentworth. An institution, sir, which no statesman would think of assailing for a moment. Where can you point to one statesman, worthy of the name, from Webster back to Burke, or as far back as you like to go, that has ever assailed a great politico-economical institution like slavery? You’re a scholar, I’m told, Mr. Harrington; now just answer me that question.”