Douglas,
Dorothy and Mrs. Douglas conceived the idea of going off to see the play
of _Charlotte Temple_; for we had overflowed the lesser talk at the
dinner table by our discussion of railroads. Accordingly they left us,
and Douglas and I settled down to an intimate evening, of which we were
beginning to have many. We set a quart bottle of whisky between us,
drinking from it from time to time as the evening progressed. Both of
us had a fair capacity. And without either of us becoming more than well
stimulated, we nearly consumed the bottle by the time Mrs. Douglas and
Dorothy returned.
This evening I studied Douglas with more than usual care. I had been
struck at dinner by his great devotion to Mrs. Douglas. He treated her
with a high-bred chivalry, a constant kindness. I was really trying to
get at the emotional side of his nature as to things that did not
relate, for example, to an ocean-bound republic. After all, his attitude
toward men was one of guarded friendship. He attached men to himself
with ardor and loyalty. In turn he gave loyalty and a certain ardor too.
But he was really analytical of men. He was suspicious of disinterested
friendship. He saw selfish considerations as the social bond. Hence he
had less and less patience with New England. The radicals who talked God
and benevolence and fraternalism were anathema to him.
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