Watchfires Read Free

his place. Fred did likewise, but glowered at his escaped victim across the table. Bridey, the waitress, irked by their lateness, set their glasses of orange juice heavily down before them.
    "Fred said I was a traitor to my country for being sorry that John Brown was hanged!" Selby complained to his mother. He was a fat, bright twelve, with long dank blond hair and staring green eyes. Fred, fifteen, was darker and thinner. It was probable that he might one day be handsome.
    "And he called me a Southern pig!" Fred snarled.
    "Boys, must you be always fighting?" Rosalie protested. "Where did you hear it, anyway? I've only just seen it in the paper."
    "We heard the newsboy in the street," Fred explained. He faced his father. "Wasn't it simple justice? He was a rebel, wasn't he?"
    "Of course he was a rebel." Dexter turned to his younger son. "He took up arms against the government, Selby. Some of his men were killed. That makes it murder as well as treason."
    "But that doesn't mean that Selby can't be sorry!" Rosalie exclaimed, flaring. "I too am sorry. I think every decent-minded man and woman must be sorry. Brown was expressing his outrage at intolerable injustice. He may have gone too far, but some of our early Christian martyrs went pretty far, too!"
    "I have a friend at school who has an uncle in the Underground Railroad," Selby offered, sensing his immunity in the division between his parents. "Don't you think that's brave?" There was a silence around the table. "Well, I think it's brave!"
    "Your friend's uncle had better watch out," Fred sneered. "He'll find himself being brave in jail one of these days. Runaway slaves are private property, and the law says they've got to be returned to their owners. Isn't that so, Dad?"
    "That is so, Fred."
    "Oh, Dexter, is that the sort of law you're teaching the boys?"
    "It isn't a sort of law, my dear. It's
the
law. Don't blame me, I didn't make it. Blame the United States Supreme Court if you want."
    "I
do
want. That court was packed by pro-slavery presidents."
    "It's still the Supreme Court. And its law is still the law of the land."
    "What about God's law?" Rosalie exclaimed fervently. "Surely it's not God's law. that one man can own another? And sell him and beat him!"
    "There are a great many Christians living south of the Mason-Dixon line who would dispute that."
    "And I would dispute that they're Christians! I would say that their society is rotten to the very core!"
    "But didn't we consent to slavery, Dad?" Fred demanded.
    "Never!" his mother cried fiercely.
    Dexter raised a hand in mild protest. "I'm afraid Fred is right, dear. We have to face facts. Slavery was the price we paid for our union. We wrote it, by implication anyway, into the Constitution. You can argue that we paid too heavy a price for union, but we paid it, and with our eyes open. How can we go back on our word now?"
    "Oh, Dexter, there you go again with your sacred union! Why not let the slave states go? Certainly I don't wish to be associated with them. Why can't we simply say, 'Sorry, we thought we could stand the stench of your "peculiar institution," and we've tried, but we find it's too much for our nostrils! So can't we agree to disagree? Let us part company in peace.' And
then
we'd see how long they could stand alone as the only nation in western civilization that permits such barbarities!"
    Dexter had become very grave during this speech. "I'm sorry, my dear. I cannot allow disunion to be advocated in my house. The federal principle is more important to me than any question of slavery. Whatever our destiny, North or South, it must be an American one. And that is a principle, boys, for which I should willingly lay down my life!"
    He knew that he risked seeming pompous and stagy, but it had to be worth it. Both boys remained silent, fixing their eyes, whether in awe or embarrassment, on the surface of the table. Rosalie said nothing and gave no indication of dissent, as was her custom when he took this