The Campaign of 1863

The Campaign of 1863 (
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Capt. Howdy 01-01-2018 02:13 AM

Candolinni want's his hand back.
Happy New Year!!!!!!

Capt. Howdy 01-04-2018 06:16 AM

CNN....Conjecture news network?

Hey, way to go Mr. President. I like your deregulatory measures. Wow unemployment is so low! Wonderful!
Let's get a 5%gdp growth after the walls up. Cant be done till then

Froggy 10-19-2018 12:24 AM




Author of
"Anne, the Adventuress," "The Traitors," "Conspirators," etc.


This Book, written by the Author some years ago,
is now issued in Library form for the first time.







The last sally had been made and repulsed, the last shot fired; the fight was over, and victory remained with the white men. And yet, after all, was it a victory or a massacre? If you were a stay-at-home, and read the report from the telegrams in your club, or in the triumphant columns of the daily papers, especially those on

Froggy 10-19-2018 12:24 AM


What led me there I cannot imagine, save it was a wild desire to escape for a brief while from the thoughts that were tormenting me, but an hour or two later I was on the Marina, mixing with gay throngs of merry pleasure-seekers, stalking amongst them like a Banquo at a feast. And whom should I meet there but Lady Olive! Lady Olive alone, for her brother and sister had left her for a moment to buy bonbons.

She greeted me with some laughing speech, but her face grew grave as she looked into my face.

"Something has happened, Mr. Arbuthnot?" she said quickly; and then, as I made no answer, she placed her hand in my arm, and led me away from the people down towards the seat on which we had sat the first evening of our meeting there.

It was a night which mocks description. The sweet, subtle perfumes with which the soft night breeze was laden, the dark boughs of the cypress-trees over our heads, the glittering, sparkling sea stretching away before us to the horizon, the picturesque town with its white villas and rows of houses standing out clear and distinct in the brilliant moonlight—all these had a softening effect upon me. I looked into Lady Olive's dark expressive eyes, and I felt as though I must weep.

I do not believe that there lives a man who has not, at some time or other of his existence, felt a longing for a woman's sympathy. There is an art and a tact in its bestowal which only a woman properly understands. A man may speak words of comfort in a rough, hearty sort of way; but the chances are that he will strike the wrong vein and leave unsaid the words which would have been most efficient. He has not the keen, fine perceptions which a woman has in such matters, and which have made it her peculiar province to play the part of comforter.

I was not then, or at any other time, in love with Lady Olive. But as I looked into her dark, eager eyes as we sat side by side on the seat under the cypress-trees, I could not help thinking that it would be very pleasant to win from her a few kind words and the sympathy which I knew was there waiting to be kindled, and so, when she asked me again what was the matter, I hesitated only for a moment and then told her.

She knew most of my history; why should she not know all? And so I told her, and she listened with all the gaiety gone from her face, and her eyes growing sadder and sadder. When I had finished there were great tears in them.

"What can I say to comfort you?" she whispered, softly. "Tell me, and I will say it—anything!"

My sorrow had blunted my senses, or I must have seen whither we were drifting; but I was blind, blind with the selfishness of a great grief, and I caught at her sympathy like a drowning man at a straw.

"I am alone in the world, Lady Olive, or I shall be in a week or two's time," I said. "Tell me what to do with myself."

"How can I tell you?" she answered with streaming eyes. "But you must not say that you are alone in the world. My father would be your friend if you would let him—and so would I."

I took her hand, which yielded itself readily to mine, and raised it to my lips. I felt just then as though I dare not speak, lest my voice should be unsteady. I looked instead into her face gratefully, and it seemed to me that a change had come over it, a change which puzzled me. The lips were quivering, and out of her soft, tender eyes the laughing sparkle seemed to have gone. It was another Lady Olive, surely, this grave, sweet-faced, tremulous woman, with her eyes cast down, and a faint pink glow in her cheeks! Nothing of the gay, light-hearted, chattering little flirt, with her arch looks and piquant attitude, seemed left. I was puzzled. Was she indeed so tender-hearted?

"And do you really mean," she whispered, stealing a glance up at me, "that if your father goes away, there is nothing left in the world which could give you any pleasure? Nothing you would wish for?"

I thought of Maud—when was I not thinking of her?—and sighed bitterly.

"Only one thing," I said, "and that I cannot have."

"Won't you tell me what it is?" she asked, hesitatingly, with her eyes fixed upon the ground.

I shook my head. "I think not. No, it would be better not."

There was a short silence. Then she lifted her beautiful eyes to mine for a moment, and dropped them again, instantly, with a deep blush: I was puzzled. There was something in them which I could not read, something inviting, beseeching, tender. Knowing what I know now, it seems to me that I must have been a blind, senseless fool. But it is easy to be wise afterwards, and my own sorrows were absorbing every sense.

"Will you tell me this?" she asked. "Does this one thing include somebody else?"

She had read my secret, then; she knew that I loved Maud. Well, it was not very strange that she should have guessed it after all!

"Yes, you have guessed it, Lady Olive," I said quietly, with my eyes fixed upon the line of the horizon where a star-bespangled sky seemed to touch the glistening, dancing sea. "You have guessed it; but remember, I never told you."

I felt a soft breath on my cheek, and before I could move a pair of white arms were thrown around my neck, and a tear-stained, half-blushing, half-smiling face, with a mass of ruffled hair, was lying on my shoulder.

"Wh—why have you made me guess, Hugh? Why could you not tell me? You know that—that I—I love you."


"Father, I have decided."

I stood before him dishevelled and weary, for I had been out all night, seeking to ease my heart of its pain by physical fatigue.

He turned and looked at me in surprise—a surprise which changed into a look of grave sorrow as his eyes dwelt upon me.

"Hugh, you have been up all night," he said, reprovingly; "you will be ill!"

I laughed recklessly.

"What matters? Do men die of a broken heart, I wonder? I would that they did."

He came to me and laid his hands upon my shoulders.

"Hugh, my boy, do you want to break mine?"

I turned away, and buried my face in my hands. This last sorrow, which had come to me filling me with shame, with self-reproach, with pity, had been the filling of my cup.

Lady Olive's white, horror-struck face, as my blundering words had told her the truth, had been before me all the night, and like a haunting, reproachful shadow, seemed as though it would never leave me. I was unnerved and weak, and before I well knew what was going to happen, the hot tears were streaming from my eyes.

I was the better for them. When I stood before my father again I felt more like myself.

"I have decided," I said calmly. "I have prayed you to let me go with you, and you have refused. God knows I would rather go with you; but, if you will not have me, I must stay behind. I will take the name of Devereux, since you wish it, and since you say that my taking it will make you happier. But into Devereux Court I will not go. I have sworn it before heaven, and I will not break my oath!"

"But you will see your grandfather?"

"I will see him anywhere else but at Devereux. I shall write him and tell him so. And as to my future, I have but one desire—to enter the army."

A look almost of peace came into my father's face.

"You have made me very glad, Hugh," he said simply. "But about our home? Supposing your grandfather and I both die, and you became Sir Hugh Devereux?"

"Then my oath ceases, and I shall go there. But whilst he holds out his hand to me, and not to you, I will not take it. That will I not depart from."

My father said never another word; but I knew that he was satisfied.

Froggy 10-20-2018 12:11 AM



When Douglas took his seat in Congress for the first time, an unknown man in unfamiliar surroundings, he found as his near neighbor, one David S. Reid, a young lawyer from North Carolina, who was of his own age, of his own party, and like him, serving a first term. An acquaintance sprang up between these young Democrats, which, in spite of their widely different antecedents, deepened into intimacy. It was a friendship that would have meant much to Douglas, even if it had not led to an interesting romance. Intercourse with this able young Southerner[294] opened the eyes of this Western Yankee to the finer aspects of Southern social life, and taught him the quality of that Southern aristocracy, which, when all has been said, was the truest aristocracy that America has seen. And when Reid entertained his friends and relatives in Washington, Douglas learned also to know the charm of Southern women.

Among the most attractive of these visitors was Reid's cousin, Miss Martha Denny Martin, daughter of Colonel Robert Martin of Rockingham County, North Carolina. Rumor has it that Douglas speedily fell captive to the graces of this young woman. She was not only charming in manner and fair of face, but keen-witted and intelligent. In spite of the gay badinage with which she treated this young Westerner, she revealed a depth and positiveness of character, to which indeed her fine, broad forehead bore witness on first acquaintance. In the give and take of small talk she more than held her own, and occasionally discomfited her admirer by sallies which were tipped with wit and reached their mark unerringly.[295] Did she know that just such treatment—strange paradox—won, while it at times wounded, the heart of the unromantic Westerner?

Colonel Robert Martin was a typical, western North Carolina planter. He belonged to that stalwart line of Martins whose most famous representative was Alexander, of Revolutionary days, six times Governor of the State. On the banks of the upper Dan, Colonel Martin possessed a goodly plantation of about eight hundred acres, upon which negro slaves cultivated cotton and such of the cereals as were needed for home consumption.[296] Like other planters, he had felt the competition of the virgin lands opened up to cotton culture in the gulf plains of Alabama, Mississippi, and Louisiana; and like his fellow planters, he had invested in these Western lands, on the Pearl River in Mississippi. This Pearl River plantation was worked by about one hundred and fifty negroes and was devoted to the raising of cotton.

When Douglas accepted Reid's invitation to visit North Carolina, the scene of the romance begun on the Potomac shifted to the banks of the Dan. Southern hospitality became more than a conventional phrase on Douglas's lips. He enjoyed a social privilege which grew rarer as North and South fell apart. Intercourse like this broke down many of those prejudices unconsciously cherished by Northerners. Slavery in the concrete, on a North Carolina plantation, with a kindly master like Colonel Martin,[297] bore none of the marks of a direful tyranny. Whatever may have been his mental reservations as to slavery as a system of labor, Douglas could not fail to feel the injustice of the taunts hurled against his Southern friends by the Abolitionist press. As he saw the South, the master was not a monster of cruelty, nor the slave a victim of malevolent violence.

The romance on the banks of the Dan flowed far more clearly and smoothly toward its goal than the waters of that turbid stream. On April 7, 1847, Miss Martin became the wife of the Honorable Stephen Arnold Douglas, who had just become Senator from the State of Illinois. It was in every way a fateful alliance. Next to his Illinois environment, no external circumstance more directly shaped his career than his marriage to the daughter of a North Carolina planter. The subtle influences of a home and a wife dominated by Southern culture, were now to work upon him. Constant intercourse with Southern men and women emancipated him from the narrowness of his hereditary environment.[298] He was bound to acquire an insight into the nature of Southern life; he was compelled to comprehend, by the most tender and intimate of human relationships, the meaning and responsibility of a social order reared upon slave labor.

A year had hardly passed when the death of Colonel Martin left Mrs. Douglas in possession of all his property in North Carolina. It had been his desire to put his Pearl River plantation, the most valuable of his holdings, in the hands of his son-in-law. But Douglas had refused to accept the charge, not wishing to hold negroes. Indeed, he had frankly told Colonel Martin that the family already held more slaves than was profitable.[299] In his will, therefore, Colonel Martin was constrained to leave his Mississippi plantation and slaves to Mrs. Douglas and her children. It was characteristic of the man and of his class, that his concern for his dependents followed him to the grave. A codicil to his will provided, that if Mrs. Douglas should have no children, the negroes together with their increase were to be sent to Liberia, or to some other colony in Africa. By means of the net proceeds of the last crop, they would be able to reach Africa and have a surplus to aid them in beginning planting. "I trust in Providence," wrote this kindly master, "she will have children and if so I wish these negroes to belong to them, as nearly every head of the family have expressed to me a desire to belong to you and your children rather than go to Africa; and to set them free where they are, would entail on them a greater curse, far greater in my opinion, as well as in that of the intelligent among themselves, than to have a humane master whose duty it would be to see they were properly protected ... and properly provided for in sickness as well as in health."[300]

The legacy of Colonel Martin gave a handle to Douglas's enemies. It was easy to believe that he had fallen heir to slave property. That the terms of the bequest were imperfectly known, did not deter the opposition press from malevolent insinuations which stung Douglas to the quick. It was fatal to his political career to allow them to go unchallenged. In the midsummer of 1850, while Congress was wrestling with the measures of compromise, Douglas wrote to his friend, the editor of the Illinois State Register," It is true that my wife does own about 150 negroes in Mississippi on a cotton plantation. My father-in-law in his lifetime offered them to me and I refused to accept them. This fact is stated in his will, but I do not wish it brought before the public as the public have no business with my private affairs, and besides anybody would see that the information must have come from me. My wife has no negroes except those in Mississippi. We have other property in North Carolina, but no negroes. It is our intention, however, to remove all our property to Illinois as soon as possible."[301] To correct the popular rumor, Douglas enclosed a statement which might be published editorially, or otherwise.

The dictated statement read as follows: "The Quincy Whig and other Whig papers are publishing an article purporting to be copied from a Mississippi paper abusing Judge Douglas as the owner of 100 slaves and at the same time accusing him of being a Wilmot Free-soiler. That the article originated in this State, and was sent to Mississippi for publication in order that it might be re-published here we shall not question nor take the trouble to prove. The paternity of the article, the malice that prompted it, and the misrepresentations it contains are too obvious to require particular notice. If it had been written by a Mississippian he would have known that the statement in regard to the ownership of the negroes was totally untrue. No one will pretend that Judge Douglas has any other property in Mississippi than that which was acquired in the right of his wife by inheritance upon the death of her father, and anyone who will take the trouble to examine the statutes of that State in the Secretary's office in this City will find that by the laws of Mississippi all the property of a married woman, whether acquired by will, gift or otherwise, becomes her separate and exclusive estate and is not subject to the control or disposal of her husband nor subject to his debts. We do not pretend to know whether the father of Mrs. Douglas at the time of his death owned slaves in Mississippi or not. We have heard the statement made by the Whigs but have not deemed it of sufficient importance to inquire into its truth. If it should turn out so, in no event could Judge Douglas become the owner or have the disposal of or be responsible for them. The laws of the State forbid it, and also forbid slaves under such circumstances from being removed without or emancipated within the limits of the State."

Born a Yankee, bred a Westerner, wedded to the mistress of a Southern plantation, Douglas represented a Commonwealth whose population was made up of elements from all sections. The influences that shaped his career were extraordinarily complex. No account of his subsequent public life would be complete, without reference to the peculiar social and political characteristics of his constituency.

Froggy 10-20-2018 12:12 AM





Professor Of History In Bowdoin College;
Sometime Professor Of History In Iowa College

New York

Copyright 1908


Set up and electrotyped. Published February 1908




whose wisdom and kindliness have inspired
a generation of students


To describe the career of a man who is now chiefly remembered as the rival of Abraham Lincoln, must seem to many minds a superfluous, if not invidious, undertaking. The present generation is prone to forget that when the rivals met in joint debate fifty years ago, on the prairies of Illinois, it was Senator Douglas, and not Mr. Lincoln, who was the cynosure of all observing eyes. Time has steadily lessened the prestige of the great Democratic leader, and just as steadily enhanced the fame of his Republican opponent.

The following pages have been written, not as a vindication, but as an interpretation of a personality whose life spans the controversial epoch before the Civil War. It is due to the chance reader to state that the writer was born in a New England home, and bred in an anti-slavery atmosphere where the political creed of Douglas could not thrive. If this book reveals a somewhat less sectional outlook than this personal allusion suggests, the credit must be given to those generous friends in the great Middle West, who have helped the writer to interpret the spirit of that region which gave both Douglas and Lincoln to the nation.

The material for this study has been brought together from many sources. Through the kindness of Mrs. James W. Patton of Springfield, Illinois, I have had access to a valuable collection of letters written by Douglas to her father, Charles H. Lanphier, Esq., editor of the Illinois State Register. Judge Robert M. Douglas of North Carolina has permitted me to use an autobiographical sketch of his father, as well as other papers in the possession of the family. Among those who have lightened my labors, either by copies of letters penned by Douglas or by personal recollections, I would mention with particular gratitude the late Mrs. L.K. Lippincott ("Grace Greenwood"); Mr. J.H. Roberts and Stephen A. Douglas, Esq. of Chicago; Chief Justice Melville W. Fuller and the late Hon. Robert E. Hitt of Washington. With his wonted generosity, Mr. James F. Rhodes has given me the benefit of his wide acquaintance with the newspapers of the period, which have been an invaluable aid in the interpretation of Douglas's career. Finally, by personal acquaintance and conversation with men who knew him, I have endeavored to catch the spirit of those who made up the great mass of his constituents.

Brunswick, Maine,

November, 1907.


CHAPTER I From The Green Mountains To The Prairies 3
CHAPTER II The Rise Of The Politician 18
CHAPTER III Law And Politics 51
CHAPTER IV Under The Aegis Of Andrew Jackson 68
CHAPTER V Manifest Destiny 84
CHAPTER VI War And Politics 109
CHAPTER VII The Mexican Cession 127

CHAPTER VIII Senator And Constituency 145
CHAPTER IX Measures Of Adjustment 166
CHAPTER X Young America 191
CHAPTER XI The Kansas-Nebraska Act 220
CHAPTER XII Black Republicanism 260
CHAPTER XIII The Testing Of Popular Sovereignty 281

CHAPTER XIV The Personal Equation 309
CHAPTER XV The Revolt Of Douglas 324
CHAPTER XVI The Joint Debates With Lincoln 348
CHAPTER XVII The Aftermath 393
CHAPTER XVIII The Campaign Of 1860 412
CHAPTER XIX The Merging Of The Partisan In The Patriot 442
CHAPTER XX The Summons 475

Froggy 10-26-2018 12:02 AM

A proverb is one man's wit and all men's wisdom.

A formal fool speaks naught but proverbs.

Education forms the man.

By education most have been misled.

Everything comes to him who waits.

He who would find must seek.

Better a patch than a hole.

A true gentleman would rather have his clothes torn than mended.

Patience surpasses learning.

Patience is the virtue of asses.

No wickedness has any ground of reason.

Success makes some crimes honorable.

He who hunts two hares at once will catch neither.

It is always good to have two irons in the fire.

Never spur a willing horse.

A good horse and a bad horse both need the spur.

The middle path is the safe path.

The neutral is soused from above, and singed from below.

Many hands make light work.

Too many cooks spoil the broth.

As ye sow, so shall ye reap.

The seed you sow, another reaps.

Be sure you are right, then go ahead.

Nothing venture, nothing have.

It is fortune, not wisdom, that rules man's life.

Wisdom is the conqueror of fortune.

The wise man has a short tongue.

Silence is the virtue of those who are not wise.

The face is the index of the mind.

A fair skin often covers a crooked mind.

Trust not to appearances.

A fair exterior is a silent recommendation.

Good fortune ever fights on the side of the prudent.

Fortune helps the bold.

A rolling stone gathers no moss.

Push on, keep moving.

Out of sight, out of mind.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

A bad beginning makes a good ending.

A good beginning makes a good ending.

Birds of a feather flock together.

Two birds of prey do not keep each other company.

All truths are not to be told.

Tell the truth and shame the devil.

No jealousy, no love.

In jealousy there is more self-love than love.

The end justifies the means.

Never do evil that good may come of it.

A sin confessed is half-forgiven.

A sin concealed is half-pardoned.

Froggy 10-26-2018 12:12 AM

Van Dyke—As the boat left the dock I waved my handkerchief, and then a most curious thing happened. Forney—What was it? Van Dyke—The ocean waved back.—Truth.

Froggy 10-26-2018 12:15 AM


Founder of Modern Journalism Was
Called Everything That Had an Unpleasant
Name, but He Prospered.

James Gordon Bennett, who founded the New York Herald, was well over thirty-five years of age when he left the office of the old New York Courier and Enquirer. He had learned what a newspaper should be, he believed, and he was going to put that knowledge into operation. He had toiled early and late all his life, and when he was ready to start for himself he had a nominal capital of five hundred dollars, and a big idea.

He was the only newspaper man in New York who thought that a newspaper didn't have to be dull to be good. In fact, he found that if he wished to be an editor at all it would have to be on his own paper. So on May 6, 1835, in a cellar on Wall Street, he issued the first number of the Herald.

Many things which we take for granted in the newspapers of to-day were originated by Bennett and his lively little cellar-born sheet. In the second month of its existence, the Herald printed the first Wall Street reports that had ever appeared in an American daily. Later, in the same year, Bennett introduced modern reportorial methods by his graphic "story" of the great fire that devastated down-town New York in December, 1835; and his introduction of a picture of the Stock Exchange on fire, and a map of the burned district, was another epoch-making innovation. It was he, too, who ordered for the Herald a telegraphic report of the first speech ever sent in full over the wires to a newspaper—that of Calhoun on the Mexican War.

There were no theories concerning the news in the Herald, no stately, long-winded, word-spinning explanations of what the news meant; just the news itself, given tersely and in as simple and bright language as possible. The readers were left to draw their own inferences and make their own comments.

Competitors Tried to Crush Him.

Bennett was right in trusting to the readers' intelligence, for his following increased. But though the public came to him in goodly numbers, the battle was a desperate, up-hill one. Five years after he started, all the papers in the city banded together to crush him. The records of the fight are curious now, chiefly for the profusion of the epithets that were hurled at him. One paper, in one short broadside, managed to call him an "obscene rogue," "profligate adventurer," "venomous reptile," "pestilential scoundrel," "polluted wretch," "habitual liar," and "veteran blackguard."

Bennett weathered the storm, seldom bothering about hitting back, but all the time striving to make his paper brighter and more readable. His adversaries soon realized that they were losing ground, and they gradually relinquished the struggle.

Twelve years after he had started the Herald, Bennett got into a dispute with Horace Greeley concerning the relative circulation of the Herald and Tribune. The dispute was settled by an impartial committee, and this committee found that the Herald had a daily circulation of 16,711 to the Tribune's 11,455, while the Weekly Herald had a circulation of 11,455 to a circulation of 15,780 for the[Pg 209] Weekly Tribune. On the whole, the result was a decided victory for Bennett.

His Announcement of His Marriage.

Here is the announcement of his marriage, written by himself and published in the Herald on June 1, 1840:

To the Readers of the "Herald"—Declaration of Love—Caught at Last—Going to Be Married—New Movement in Civilization.

I am going to be married in a few days. The weather is so beautiful—times are getting so good—the prospects of political and moral reforms so auspicious, that I cannot resist the divine instincts of honest nature any longer; so I am going to be married to one of the most splendid women in intellect, in heart, in soul, in property, in person, in manner, that I have yet seen in the course of my interesting pilgrimage through human life.

I cannot stop in my career. I must fulfil that awful destiny which the Almighty Father has written against my name, in the broad letters of life, against the wall of Heaven. I must give the world a pattern of happy wedded life, with all the charities that spring from a nuptial love.

In a few days I shall be married according to the holy rites of the most holy Catholic Church, to one of the most remarkable, accomplished, and beautiful young women of the age. She possesses a fortune. I sought and found a fortune—a very large fortune.

She has no Stonington shares, or Manhattan stock, but in purity and uprightness she is worth half a million of pure coin. Can any swindling bank show as much? In good sense and elegance, another half a million; in soul, mind, and beauty, millions on millions, equal to the whole specie of all the rotten banks in the whole world.

Happily, the patronage of the public to the Herald is nearly twenty-five thousand dollars per annum—almost equal to a President's salary. But property in the world's goods was never my object, Fame, public good, usefulness in my day and generation—the religious associates of female excellence—the progress of true industry—these have been my dreams by night and my desires by day.

In the new and holy condition into which I am about to enter, and to enter with the same reverential feelings as I would Heaven itself. I anticipate some signal changes in my feelings, in my views, in my purposes, in my pursuits. What they may be I know not; time alone can tell. My ardent desire has been through life to reach the highest order of human excellence by the shortest possible cut. Associated night and day, in sickness and in health, in war and in peace, with a woman of this highest order of excellence, must produce some curious results in my heart and feelings, and these results the future will develop in due time in the columns of the Herald.

Meantime I return my heartfelt thanks for the enthusiastic patronage of the public, both in Europe and in America. The holy estate of wedlock will only increase my desire to be still more useful. God Almighty bless you all.


EVERS 10-26-2018 11:49 PM

There were no theories concerning the news in the Herald, no stately, long-winded, word-spinning explanations of what the news meant; just the news itself, given tersely and in as simple and bright language as possible. The readers were left to draw their own inferences and make their own comments.

Competitors Tried to Crush Him.

Bennett was right in trusting to the readers' intelligence, for his following increased. But though the public came to him in goodly numbers, the battle was a desperate, up-hill one. Five years after he started, all the papers in the city banded together to crush him. The records of the fight are curious now, chiefly for the profusion of the epithets that were hurled at him. One paper, in one short broadside, managed to call him an "obscene rogue," "profligate adventurer," "venomous reptile," "pestilential scoundrel," "polluted wretch," "habitual liar," and "veteran blackguard."

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