The Statesmen Snowbound | Page 3

to drink. The lordly manner of living, the immense estates, and
the magnificent hospitality of our hosts, was a revelation to me; and an
occasional reference by one of the older servants to the grandeur of
antebellum days indicated a condition of even greater splendor and
luxury. But the cruel hand of war had devastated and impoverished the
country, the slaves were freed, and the land for years lay untilled and
neglected. Marse Henry, the head of the house, was killed in almost the
first battle of the war. Marse Breckinridge died, a prisoner in Fort
Warren, and now Marse Preston had followed them to the land of
shadows. Uncle Eph'm, himself, was getting very feeble and helpless,
and it would not be long before he joined his loved ones on the other
shore. De good ole times were gone forever!
It was with regret that I left this attractive home, and I gladly accepted
an invitation to return in the fall for the shooting. For the shooting,
indeed! Why, that was all over! Dan Cupid never aimed truer! My
wife--a Kentuckian--says that I will never shine as a Nimrod, but it
seems to me that I have had pretty fair success in that rôle.

II
SENATOR BULL AND MR. RIDLEY--TRIALS AND
TRIBULATIONS OF THE NEWLY FLEDGED MEMBER.

Again on the train, our troubles were over, and we pulled out of the
station amid cheers and yells from hundreds of throats--an odd contrast
to the mournful silence of the throng upon our arrival.
In our party were Senators Baker, of Kentucky; Bull, of Montana;
Wendell, of Massachusetts; Hammond, of Michigan; Pennypacker, of
West Virginia; and Congressmen Holloway, of Illinois; Manysnifters,
of Georgia; Van Rensselaer, of New York; a majority of the Kentucky
delegation, Mr. Ridley, Senator Bull's private secretary, and several
newspaper men.
Senator Bull is seventy, tall and massive. His features are striking--a
big nose, heavy, grizzled mustache, bushy brows emphasizing eyes
blue and kindly, a wide mouth, tobacco-stained, with a constant
movement of the jaws--bovine, but shrewdly ruminative. A leonine
head of shaggy white hair crowns the whole. Ridley, the private
secretary, is about the same age. He is a ruddy-cheeked,
round-paunched little fellow, scarcely measuring up to the Senator's
shoulder. The thin fringe of hair around his shining pate gives him the
appearance of a jolly friar. He peers at you through gold-rimmed
spectacles, and is quite helpless without them. He has been with
Senator Bull for years, serving him faithfully in various capacities, and
is now a partner in the enterprises which have made the Senator many
times a millionaire. The title of "private secretary" is one of courtesy
merely, and seems to highly amuse the two friends.
[Illustration: Senator Bull and Sammy Ridley.]
At nightfall we had left the storm behind us, and were speeding over
the mountains. The sunlight, lingering on the higher peaks, cast great
shadows into the depths beyond. There had been much snow all winter,
and the summits sparkled and shone out dazzlingly, then went pink and
crimson and purple as the radiance slowly faded. The lamps had not
been lighted in the car, and most of us had gathered at the observation
end, impressed by the grandeur of it all, when the silence was broken
by Mr. Ridley.
"That's a pretty sight, sure! It gives me a kind of solemn feeling all over.

The glory up there makes me think of dying, and heaven, and angels,
and all that," he said gravely. "That patch of light calls to mind the
fellows I know who climb the heights, and when they get near the top
the sunshine of prosperity, or fame, or notoriety, or whatever you call it,
strikes them and it wilts them, and they can't stand it for long, so they
fall back, and you don't hear of them any more. There're others, though,
who get up there and fairly bask in it all, walk around, lie down, eat and
sleep in it. They can stand it, and, my, what big shadows they throw!"
"Well, well, well, Sammy Ridley, I never heard you talk like that
before," said Senator Bull; "it must have been that funeral to-day. Got
on your nerves, eh? Some folks are affected like that. Come away from
that window, boy, and get back to earth again." Thus urged, Mr. Ridley
got back to earth again, and took a drink of generous size. Several of
the delegation joined him. The movement seemed a popular one.
The conversation then turned to the deceased, his many good qualities,
his probable successor in the Senate, and the bearing his death would
have upon the political situation in Kentucky.
"We will miss him in the Senate," said Senator Wendell; "we will miss
his wise counsel, the broad statesmanlike views, and the