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Dixon, Thomas, 1864-1946

"The Southerner A Romance of the Real Lincoln"


"Never such a crowd as this!"
"Why, they say it's smaller than usual!" Betty exclaimed.
"I don't mean size," Ned went on rapidly. "It's their temper that's
remarkable. An Inauguration crowd should support the administration. The
Lord help the Rail-splitter if that sullen dumb mob are his
constituents! Half of them are downright hostile----"
"Washington's a Southern town," John remarked.
"They are not Washington folks--not one in a hundred. And the only
honest backers old Abe seems to have are about a thousand serious young
fellows from the West, whom General Scott has armed as a special guard
to circle the crowd."
He paused and pointed to a group of a dozen Westerners standing beside a
bush in the outer rim of the throng.
"There's a bunch of them--and there's one stationed every ten yards. The
artillery in position, the infantry in line, the sharpshooters masked in
windows, the guard under the platform with muskets cocked, and a
thousand volunteers to threaten the crowd from without, I think the new
President should get a respectful hearing! The procession is coming up
the Avenue now with a guard of sappers and miners packed so closely
around the open carriage you can't even see the top of old Abe's
head----"
"Let's get our seats!" Betty cried.
They had scarcely taken them when a ripple of excitement swept the crowd
as every head was turned toward the aisle that led down the centre of
the platform.


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