powers, a debater and campaigner, a soldier in the War of 1812, and a
respected character, was to lay the adventurer, the interloper, low! He
was elected to the task. Was Douglas a youth? No. He was a monstrosity.
He had always been a man. He had never grown up. He had simply appeared
in this part of the world, a creature of mature powers. Yet Wyatt would
subdue him.

We were all in anticipation of the contest. It was to take place in the
courthouse. What was the subject? Anything. Everything. Chiefly Whiggery
and Democracy. I came into town bringing Zoe and leaving her with Sarah.
Reverdy and I went together. Here I met Russell Lamborn. He sat on one
side of me and Reverdy on the other.

I shall never forget this night. Wyatt opened the debate, and he closed
it. The question was: Are the Whig policies best for the country?
Douglas had the negative and, therefore, but one speech. Was it fair?
Had not the young man given away too much? No, for Douglas proved a
match for two or three such minds as Wyatt's. He humiliated to the last
degree the older, and at first confident, antagonist.

It was the most extraordinary exhibition of youth and dash and
confidence and ready wit, and knowledge and dialectic handling of
difficult matter. It furnished the groundwork of my education in the
history of American politics up to that time. It led into almost every
possible matter of constitutional law and party policy.

Wyatt talked for an hour. He jeered at Douglas. He referred to his
diminutive stature. He spoke ironically of his work as a cabinet maker,
and advised Douglas to stick to it and leave the profession of the law
alone. He characterized him as a strolling fellow who was trying to