April passed, the arbutus fragrance was gone, while the maples were putting forth ruddy buds which looked like a prophecy of the distant autumn and made gay with colour the young greenery of spring.

Meanwhile, school went on, and John grew stronger and broader in this altogether wholesome atmosphere of outdoor activity and indoor life of kindness and apparently inattentive indifference on the part of his busy uncle.
On an evening late in May, 1856 (John long remembered it), the Squire as usual left their little circle and retired to the library, where he busied himself over matters involving business letters, and then fell to reading in the _Tribune_ the bitter politics of Fremont's contest with Buchanan and the still angry talk over Brooks's assault on Senator Sumner.

He foresaw defeat and was with cool judgment aware of what the formation of the Republican Party indicated in the way of trouble to come.

The repeal of the Missouri Compromise had years before disturbed his party allegiance, and now no longer had he been able to see the grave question of slavery as Ann his wife saw it.

He threw aside the papers, set his table in order, and opening the door called John to come in and pay him a visit.