acting Vice-president, again put the question of Stockton's expulsion.
The member from New England sat pale and trembling in his soul the anguish of the mortal combat between his Puritan conscience, the iron heritage of centuries, and the order of his captain.
When the clerk of the Senate called his name, still the battle raged. He sat in silence, the whiteness of death about his lips, while the clerk at a signal from the Chair paused.
And then a scene the like of which was never known in American history! August Senators crowded around his desk, begging, shouting, imploring, and demanding that a fellow Senator break his solemn word of honour!
For a moment pandemonium reigned.
"Vote! Vote! Call his name again!" they shouted.
High above all rang the voice of Charles Sumner leading the wild chorus, crying:
"Vote! Vote! Vote!"
The galleries hissed and cheered—the cheers at last drowning every hiss.
Stoneman pushed his way among the mob which surrounded the badgered Puritan as he attempted to retreat into the cloak-room.
"Will you vote?" he hissed, his eyes flashing poison.
"My conscience will not permit it," he faltered.
"To hell with your conscience!" the old leader thundered. "Go back to your seat, ask the clerk to call your name, and vote, or by the living God I'll read you out of
