He wrote to Col. Sumner, frantically
begging him to come to the rescue; but he had got no orders, and would
not move without orders. Sheriff Jones and the rank and file of his camp
were furious that they were held back from pitching into the Lawrence
people; but the officers had become cognizant of the bloody job they
would have on hands, and were willing to be let off. And so the Governor
patched up a peace, and sent his militia home again, with their curses
diverted from the Lawrence Abolitionists to Gov. Shannon. Cowardly,
weak-minded and infirm in purpose as this unhappy man was, he was not
wholly a fool; and we may justly believe that he had in his heart a
foreboding of that awful day of reckoning that would surely come, when
inquisition would be made for the blood of these citizens, and the
Governor himself would be called to answer, "Why were these men slain?"
And now that peace--angelic peace--sat brooding over Lawrence with her
dove-like pinions, they made a love-feast and invited the Governor to
partake of it; and what with the ravishing music, and the blandishment
of flattering tongues, and the intoxication of fair women's eyes and
sweet voices, the Governor was made to forget, for the time being, that
he was the property, body, soul, and spirit, of the "Law and Order" party;
and his soft and plastic nature was beguiled into signing a document
constituting the army of defense of Lawrence a part of the Territorial
Militia, and giving them authority, under his own hand and seal, to
fight with teeth and toe-nails against the outside barbarians that he
himself had invoked to cut their throats.
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