eapon in his hand. It is subject to but
one law. The iron law of supply and demand. Labor is a commodity to be
bought and sold to the highest bidder. And the highest bidder is at
liberty to bid lower than the price of bread, clothes, fuel and shelter,
if he chooses. This system is now moving Southward like a glacier from
the frozen heart of the Northern mountains, eating all in its path. It
is creeping over Maryland, Kentucky, Missouri. It will slowly engulf
Virginia, North Carolina and Tennessee and the end is sure. Its
propelling force is not moral. It is soulless. It is purely economic.
The wage earner, driven by hunger and cold, by the fear of the loss of
life itself--is more efficient in his toil than the care-free negro
slave of the South, who is assured of bread, of clothes, of fuel and
shelter, with or without work. Slavery does not admit of argument, my
friend. To argue about it is to destroy it."

"I disagree with you, sir!" Ruffin thundered.

"I know you do. But you can't answer this book."

"It can be answered, sir."

Lee paced the floor, his arms folded behind his back, paused and watched
Ruffin's flushed face. He shook his head again.

"The book is unanswerable, because it is an appeal to emotion based on a
study of Slavery in the abstract. If no allowance be made for the tender
and humane character of the Southern people or the modification of
statutory law by the growth of public sentiment, its imaginary scenes
are within the bounds of the probable. The story is crude, but it is
told with singular power without a trace of bitterness. The blind
ferocity of Garrison, who sees in every slaveholder a fiend, nowhere
appears in its pages. On the other hand, Mrs. Stowe has painted one
slaveholder as gentle and generous. Simon Legree, her villain, is a
Yankee who has moved South and taken advantage of the power of a master
to work evil. Such men have come South. Such things might be done. It
is precisely this possibility that makes Slavery indefensible. You know
this. And I know it."

"You astound me, Colonel."

"Yes, I'm afraid I do. I'd like to speak a message to the South about
this book. I've a great deal more to say to my own people than to our
critics."

Ruffin rose, thrust his hands in his pockets, walked to the window,
turned suddenly and faced his host.

"But look here, Colonel Lee, I'm damned if I can agree with you, sir!
Suppose Slavery _is_ wrong--an economic fallacy and a social evil--I