University of Virginia Library

14. CHAPTER XIV.

Jack Cade.

At a later hour, the body of the deceased was consigned
to the ocean with the forms that had been observed the previous

night at the burial of the seaman. These two ceremonies
were sad remembrancers of the scene the travellers
had passed through; and, for many days, the melancholy
that they naturally excited pervaded the ship. But, as no
one connected by blood with any of the living had fallen,
and it is not the disposition of men to mourn always, this
feeling gradually subsided, and at the end of three weeks
the deaths had lost most of their influence, or were recalled
only at moments by those who thought it wise to dwell on
such solemn subjects.

Captain Truck had regained his spirits; for, if he felt
mortified at the extraordinary difficulties and dangers that
had befallen his ship, he also felt proud of the manner in
which he had extricated himself from them. As for the
mates and crew, they had already returned to their ordinary
habits of toil and fun, the accidents of life making but
brief and superficial impressions on natures accustomed to
vicissitudes and losses.

Mr. Dodge appeared to be nearly forgotten during the
first week after the ship succeeded in effecting her escape;
for he had the sagacity to keep himself in the back-ground,
in the hope that all connected with himself might be overlooked
in the hurry and excitement of events. At the end
of that period, however, he resumed his intrigues, and was
soon actively engaged in endeavouring to get up a “public
opinion,” by means of which he proposed to himself to obtain
some reputation for spirit and courage. With what
success this deeply-laid scheme was likely to meet, as well
as the more familiar condition of the cabins, may be gathered
by a conversation that took place in the pantry, where
Saunders and Toast were preparing the hot punch for the
last of the Saturday nights that Captain Truck expected to
be at sea. This discourse was held while the few who
chose to join in jollification that peculiarly recalled the recollection
of Mr. Monday, were slowly assembling round
the great table at the urgent request of the master.

“Well, I must say, Mr. Toast,” the steward commenced,
as he kept stirring the punch, “that I am werry much rejoiced
Captain Truck has resuscertated his old nature, and
remembers the festivals and fasts, as is becoming the master

of a liner. I can see no good reason because a ship is
under jury-masts, that the passengers should forego their
natural rest and diet. Mr. Monday made a good end, they
say, and he had as handsome a burial as I ever laid eyes
on at sea. I don't think his own friends could have interred
him more efficaciously, or more piously, had he been
on shore.”

“It is something, Mr. Saunders, to be able to reflect beforehand
on the respectable funeral that your friends have
just given you. There is a great gratification to contemplate
on such an ewent.”

“You improve in language, Toast, that I will allow; but
you sometimes get the words a little wrong. We suspect
before a thing recurs, and reflect on it after it has ewentuated.
You might have suspected the death of poor Mr.
Monday after he was wounded, and reflected on it after he
was interred in the water. I agree with you that it is consoling
to know we have our funeral rights properly delineated.
Talking of the battle, Mr. Toast, I shall take this
occasion to express to you the high opinion I entertain of
your own good conduct. I was a little afraid you might
injure Captain Truck in the conflict; but, so far as I have
ascertained, on close inwestigation, you hurt nobody. We
coloured people have some prejudices against us, and I always
rejoice when I meet with one who assists to put them
down by his conduck.”

“They say Mr. Dodge didn't do much harm, either,” returned
Toast. “For my part I saw nothing of him after I
opened my eyes; though I don't think I ever stared about
me so much in my life.”

Saunders laid a finger on his nose, and shook his head
significantly.

“You may speak to me with confidence and mistrust,
Toast,” he said, “for we are friends of the same colour,
besides being officers in the same pantry. Has Mr. Dodge
conwersed with you concerning the ewents of those two or
three werry ewentful days?”

“He has insinevated considerable, Mr. Saunders; though
I do not think Mr. Dodge is ever a werry free talker.”

“Has he surgested the propriety of having an account of

the whole affair made out by the people, and sustained by
affidavits?”

“Well, sir, I imagine he has. At all ewents, he has been
much on the forecastle lately, endeavouring to persuade the
people that they retook the ship, and that the passengers
were so many encumbrancers in the affair.”

“And, are the people such non composses as to believe
him, Toast?”

“Why, sir, it is agreeable to humanity to think well of
ourselves. I do not say that anybody actually believes
this; but, in my poor judgment, Mr. Saunders, there are
men in the ship that would find it pleasant to believe it, if
they could.”

“Werry true; for that is natural. Your hint, Toast, has
enlightened my mind on a little obscurity that has lately
prewailed over my conceptions. There are Johnson, and
Briggs, and Hewson, three of the greatest skulks in the ship,
the only men who prewaricated in the least, so much as by
a cold look, in the fight; and these three men have told me
that Mr. Dodge was the person who had the gun put on the
box; and that he druv the Arabs upon the raft. Now, I
say, no men with their eyes open could have made such a
mistake, except they made it on purpose. Do you corroborate
or contrawerse this statement, Toast?”

“I contrawerse it, sir; for in my poor judgment it was
Mr. Blunt.”

“I am glad we are of the same opinion. I shall say
nothing till the proper moment arrives, and then I shall exhibit
my sentiments, Mr. Toast, without recrimination or
anxiety, for truth is truth.”

“I am happy to observe that the ladies are quite relaxed
from their melancholy, and that they now seem to enjoy
themselves ostensibly.”

Saunders threw a look of envy at his subordinate, whose
progress in refinement really alarmed his own sense of superiority;
but suppressing the jealous feeling, he replied
with dignity,

“The remark is quite just, Mr. Toast, and denotes penetration.
I am always rejoiced when I perceive you elewating
your thoughts to superior objects, for the honour of the
colour.”

“Mister Saunders,” called out the captain from his seat
in the arm-chair, at the head of the table.

“Captain Truck, sir.”

“Let us taste your liquors.”

This was the signal that the Saturday-night was about to
commence, and the officers of the pantry presented their
compounds in good earnest. On this occasion the ladies
had quietly, but firmly declined being present, but the earnest
appeals of the well-meaning captain had overcome the
scruples of the gentlemen, all of whom, to avoid the appearance
of disrespect to his wishes, had consented to appear.

“This is the last Saturday night, gentlemen, that I shall
probably ever have the honour of passing in your good
company,” said Captain Truck, as he disposed of the
pitchers and glasses before him, so that he had a perfect
command of the appliances of the occasion, “and I feel it
to be a gratification with which I would not willingly dispense.
We are now to the westward of the Gulf, and, according
to my observations and calculations, within a hundred
miles of Sandy Hook, which, with this mild southwest
wind, and our weatherly position, I hope to be able to
show you some time about eight o'clock to-morrow morning.
Quicker passages have been made certainly, but forty
days, after all, is no great matter for the westerly run, considering
that we have had a look at Africa, and are walking
on crutches.”

“We owe a great deal to the trades,” observed Mr. Effingham;
“which have treated us as kindly towards the
end of the passage, as they seemed reluctant to join us in
the commencement. It has been a momentous month, and
I hope we shall all retain healthful recollections of it as
long as we live.”

“No one will retain as grateful recollections of it as myself,
gentlemen,” resumed the captain. “You had no
agency in getting us into the scrape, but the greatest possible
agency in getting us out of it. Without the knowledge,
prudence, and courage that you have all displayed, God
knows what would have become of the poor Montauk, and
from the bottom of my heart I thank you, each and all,
while I have the heartfelt satisfaction of seeing you around

me, and of drinking to your future health, happiness and
prosperity.”

The passengers acknowledged their thanks in return, by
bows, among which, that of Mr. Dodge was the most elaborate
and conspicuous. The honest captain was too much
touched, to observe this little piece of audacity, but, at that
moment, he could have taken even Mr. Dodge in his arms
and pressed him to his heart.

“Come, gentlemen,” he continued; let us fill and do
honour to the night. God has us all in his holy keeping,
and we drift about in the squalls of life, pretty much as he
orders the wind to blow. `Sweethearts and wives!' and,
Mr. Effingham, we will not forget beautiful, spirited, sensible,
and charming daughters.”

After this piece of nautical gallantry, the glass began to
circulate. The captain, Sir George Templemore—as the
false baronet was still called in the cabin, and believed to
be by all but those who belonged to the coterie of Eve—
and Mr. Dodge, indulged freely, though the first was too
careful of the reputation of his ship, to forget that he was
on the American coast in November. The others partook
more sparingly, though even they submitted in a slight degree
to the influence of good cheer, and for the first time
since their escape, the laugh was heard in the cabin as was
wont before to be the case. An hour of such indulgence
produced again some of the freedom and ease which mark
the associations of a ship, after the ice is fairly broken, and
even Mr. Dodge began to be tolerated. This person, notwithstanding
his conduct on the occasion of the battle, had
contrived to maintain his ground with the spurious baronet,
by dint of assiduity and flattery, while the others had rather
felt pity than aversion, on account of his abject cowardice.
The gentlemen did not mention his desertion at the critical
moment, (though Mr. Dodge never forgave those who witnessed
it,) for they looked upon his conduct as the result of
a natural and unconquerable infirmity, that rendered him
as much the subject of compassion as of reproach. Encouraged
by this forbearance, and mistaking its motives, he
had begun to hope his absence had not been detected in the
confusion of the fight, and he had even carried his audacity

so far, as to make an attempt to persuade Mr. Sharp that
he had actually been one of those who went in the launch
of the Dane, to bring down the other boat and raft to the
reef, after the ship had been recaptured. It is true, in this
attempt, he had met with a cold repulse, but it was so gentlemanlike
and distant, that he had still hopes of succeeding
in persuading the other to believe what he affirmed; by
way of doing which, he endeavoured all he could to believe
it himself. So much confusion existed in his own faculties
during the fray, that Mr. Dodge was fain to fancy others
also might not have been able to distinguish things very accurately.

Under the influence of these feelings, Captain Truck,
when the glass had circulated a little freely, called on the
Editor of the Active Inquirer, to favour the company with
some more extracts from his journal. Little persuasion
was necessary, and Mr. Dodge went into his state-room to
bring forth the valuable records of his observations and
opinions, with a conviction that all was forgotten, and that
he was once more about to resume his proper place in the
social relations of the ship. As for the four gentlemen who
had been over the ground the other pretended to describe,
they prepared to listen, as men of the world would be apt
to listen to the superficial and valueless comments of a tyro,
though not without some expectations of amusement.

“I propose that we shift the scene to London,” said
Captain Truck, “in order that a plain seaman, like myself,
may judge of the merits of the writer—which, I make no
doubt, are very great; though I cannot now swear to it
with as free a conscience as I could wish.”

“If I knew the pleasure of the majority,” returned Mr.
Dodge, dropping the journal, and looking about him inquiringly,
“I would cheerfully comply with it; for I think the
majority should always rule. Paris, or London, or the Rhine,
are the same to me; I have seen them all, and am just as
well qualified to describe the one as to describe the other.”

“No one doubts it, my dear sir; but I am not as well
qualified to understand one of your descriptions as I am to
understand another. Perhaps, even you, sir, may express
yourself more readily, and have better understood what was
said to you, in English, than in a foreign tongue.”

“As for that, I do not think the value of my remarks is
lessened by the one circumstance, or enhanced by the other,
sir. I make it a rule always to be right, if possible; and
that, I fancy, is as much as the natives of the countries
themselves can very well effect. You have only to decide,
gentlemen, whether it shall be England, or France, or the
Continent.”

“I confess an inclination to the Continent,” said John
Effingham; “for one could scarcely wish to limit a comprehensiveness
like that of Mr. Dodge's to an island, or
even to France.”

“I see how it is,” exclaimed the captain; “we must
put the traveller through all his paces, and have a little of
both; so Mr. Dodge will have the kindness to touch on all
things in heaven and earth, London and Paris inclusive.”

On this hint the journalist turned over a few pages carelessly,
and then commenced:

“`Reached Bruxelles (Mr. Dodge pronounced this word
Brucksills) at seven in the evening, and put up at the best
house in the place, called the Silver Lamb, which is quite
near the celebrated town-house, and, of course in the very
centre of the beau quarter. As we did not leave until after
breakfast next morning, the reader may expect a description
of this ancient capital. It lies altogether on a bit of low,
level land—' ”

“Nay, Mr. Dodge,” interrupted the soi-disant Sir George,
“I think that must be an error. I have been at Brussels,
and I declare, now, it struck me as lying a good deal on
the side of a very steep hill!”

“All a mistake, sir, I do assure you. There is no more
hill at Brucksills than on the deck of this ship. You have
been in too great a hurry, my dear Sir George; that is the
way with most travellers; they do not give themselves time
to note particulars. You English especially, my dear Sir
George, are a little apt to be precipitate; and I dare say,
you travelled post, with four horses, a mode of getting on
by which a man may very well transfer a hill, in his imagination,
from one town to another. I travelled chiefly in
a voitury, which afforded leisure for remarks.”

Here Mr. Dodge laughed; for he felt that he had got the
best of it.

“I think you are bound to submit, Sir George Templemore,”
said John Effingham, with an emphasis on the name
that raised a smile among his friends; “Brussels certainly
lies on a flat; and the hill you saw has, doubtless, been
brought up with you from Holland in your haste. Mr.
Dodge enjoyed a great advantage in his mode of travelling;
for, by entering a town in the evening, and quitting it only
in the morning, he had the whole night to look about him.”

“That was just my mode of proceeding, Mr. John Effingham;
I made it a rule to pass an entire night in every large
town I came to.”

“A circumstance that will give a double value to your
opinions with our countrymen, Mr. Dodge, since they very
seldom give themselves half that leisure when once in motion.
I trust you have not passed over the institutions of
Belgium, sir; and most particularly the state of society in
the capital, of which you saw so much?”

“By no means; here are my remarks on these subjects:
—`Belgium, or The Belges, as the country is now called,
is one of the upstart kingdoms that have arisen in our
times; and which, from signs that cannot be mistaken, is
fated soon to be overturned by the glorious principles of
freedom. The people are ground down, as usual, by the
oppression of hard task-masters, and bloody-minded priests.
The monarch, who is a bigoted Catholic of the House of
Saxony, being a son of the king of that country, and a
presumptive heir to the throne of Great Britain, in right of
his first wife, devoting all his thoughts to miracles and
saints. The nobles form a class by themselves, indulging
in all sorts of vices.'—I beg pardon, Sir George, but the
truth must be told in our country, or one had better never
speak.—`All sorts of vices, and otherwise betraying the
monstrous tendencies of the system.' ”

“Pray, Mr. Dodge,” interrupted John Effingham, “have
you said nothing as to the manner in which the inhabitants
relieve the eternal ennui of always walking on a level surface?”

“I am afraid not, sir My attention was chiefly given
to the institutions, and to the state of society, although I
can readily imagine they must get to be heartily tired of a
dead flat.”

“Why, sir, they have contrived to run a street up and
down the roof of the cathedral; and up and down this
street they trot all hours of the day.”

Mr. Dodge looked distrustful; but John Effingham maintained
his gravity. After a pause the former continued:—

“`The usages of Brucksills are a mixture of Low Dutch
and High Dutch habits, as is the language. The king being
a Polander, and a grandson of Augustus, king of Poland, is
anxious to introduce the customs of the Russians into his
court; while his amiable young queen, who was born in
New Jersey when her illustrious father kept the school at
Haddonfield, early imbibed those notions of republicanism
which so eminently distinguish his Grace the Honourable
Louis Philippe Orleans, the present King of the French.' ”

“Nay, Mr. Dodge,” said Mr. Sharp, “you will have all
the historians ready to cut your throat with envy!”

“Why, sir, I feel it a duty not to throw away the great
opportunities I have enjoyed; and America is a country in
which an editor may never hope to mystify his readers.
We deal with them in facts, Mr. Sharp; and, although this
may not be your English practice, we think that truth is
powerful and will prevail. To continue,—`The kingdom
of the Belges is about as large as the north-east corner of
Connecticut, including one town in Rhode Island; and the
whole population may be about equal to that of our tribe of
Creek Indians, who dwell in the wilder parts of our state
of Georgia.' ”

“This particularity is very convincing,” observed Paul;
“and then it has the merit, too, of coming from an eyewitness.”

“I will now, gentlemen, return with you to Paris, where
I stayed all of three weeks, and of the society of which my
knowledge of the language will, of course, enable me to
give a still more valuable account.”

“You mean to publish these hints, I trust, sir?” inquired
the captain.

“I shall probably collect them, and enlarge them in the
way of a book; but they have already been laid before the
American public in the columns of the Active Inquirer. I
can assure you, gentlemen, that my colleagues of the press

have spoken quite favourably of the letters as they appeared.
Perhaps you would like to hear some of their opinions?”

Hereupon Mr. Dodge opened a pocket-book, out of which
he took six or eight slips of printed paper, that had been
preserved with care, though obviously well thumbed. Opening
one, he read as follows:

“`Our friend Dodge, of the Active Inquirer, is instructing
his readers, and edifying mankind in general, with some
very excellent and pungent remarks on the state of Europe,
which part of the world he is now exploring with some such
enterprise and perseverance as Columbus discovered when
he entered on the unknown waste of the Atlantic. His
opinions meet with our unqualified approbation, being sound,
American, and discriminating. We fancy these Europeans
will begin to think in time that Jonathan has some pretty
shrewd notions concerning themselves, the critturs!' This
was extracted from the People's Advocate, a journal edited
with great ability, by Peleg Pond, esquire, a thoroughgoing
republican, and a profound observer of mankind.”

“In his own parish in particular,” quaintly added John
Effingham. “Pray, sir, have you any more of these critical
morceaux?”

“At least a dozen,” beginning to read again.—“ `Steadfast
Dodge, esquire, the editor of the Active Inquirer, is now
travelling in Europe, and is illuminating the public mind at
home by letters that are Johnsonian in style, Chesterfieldian
in taste and in knowledge of the world, with the redeeming
qualities of nationality, and republicanism, and truth. We
rejoice to perceive by these valuable contributions to American
literature, that Steadfast Dodge, esquire, finds no reason
to envy the inhabitants of the Old World any of their
boasted civilization; but that, on the contrary, he is impressed
with the superiority of our condition over all countries,
every post that he progresses. America has produced
but few men like Dodge; and even Walter Scott might not
be ashamed to own some of his descriptions. We hope he
may long continue to travel.' ”

“Voitury,” added John Effingham gravely. “You perceive,
gentlemen, how modestly these editors set forth their
intimacy with the traveller — `our friend Dodge, of the
Active Inquirer,' and `Steadfast Dodge, esquire!'—a mode

of expression that speaks volumes for their own taste, and
their profound deference for their readers!”

“We always speak of each other in this manner, Mr.
John Effingham—that is our esprit du corps.”

“And I should think that there would be an esprit de
corps in the public to resist it,” observed Paul Blunt.

The distinction was lost on Mr. Dodge, who turned over
to one of his most elaborate strictures on the state of society
in France, with all the self-complacency of besotted ignorance
and provincial superciliousness. Searching out a
place to his mind, this profound observer of men and manners,
who had studied a foreign people, whose language
when spoken was gibberish to him, by travelling five days
in a public coach, and living four weeks in taverns and
eating-houses, besides visiting three theatres, in which he
did not understand a single word that was uttered, proceeded
to lay before his auditors the results of his observations.

“`The state of female society in France is truly awful,'
he resumed, `the French Revolution, as is universally
known, having left neither decorum, modesty, nor beauty
in the nation. I walk nightly in the galleries of the Palais
Royal, where I locate myself, and get every opportunity of
observing the peculiarities of ladies of the first taste and
fashion in the metropolis of Europe. There is one duchess
in particular, whose grace and embonpoint have, I confess,
attracted my admiration. This lady, as my lacquais de
place informs me, is sometimes termed la mère du peuple,
from her popularity and affability. The young ladies of
France, judging from the specimens I have seen here—
which must be of the highest class in the capital, as the
spot is under the windows of one of the royal palaces—are
by no means observable for that quiet reserve and modest
diffidence that distinguish the fair among our own young
countrywomen; but it must be admitted they are remarkable
for the manner in which they walk alone, in my judgment
a most masculine and unbecoming practice. Woman
was not made to live alone, and I shall contend that she
was not made to walk alone. At the same time, I confess
there is a certain charm in the manner in which these ladies

place a hand in each pocket of their aprons, and balance
their bodies, as they move like duchesses through the galleries.
If I might humbly suggest, the American fair might
do worse than imitate this Parisian step; for, as a traveller,
I feel it a duty to exhibit any superior quality that other
nations possess. I would also remark on the general suavity
of manners that the ladies of quality' (this word Mr.
Dodge pronounced qua-a-lity,) `observe in their promenades
in and about this genteel quarter of Paris.' ”

“The French ladies ought to be much flattered with this
notice of them,” cried the captain, filling Mr. Dodge's glass.
“In the name of truth and penetration, sir, proceed.”

“`I have lately been invited to attend a ball in one of
the first families of France, which resides in the Rue St.
Jaques, or the St. James' of Paris. The company was
select, and composed of many of the first persons in the
kingdom of des Français. The best possible manners
were to be seen here, and the dancing was remarkable for
its grace and beauty. The air with which the ladies turned
their heads on one side, and inclined their bodies in advancing
and retiring, was in the first style of the court of
Terpsichore. They were all of the very first families of
France. I heard one excuse herself for going away so
early, as Madame la Duchesse expected her; and another
observed that she was to leave town in the morning with
Madame la Vicomtesse. The gentlemen, with few exceptions,
were in fancy dresses, appearing in coats, some of
sky-blue, some green, some scarlet, and some navy-blue, as
fancy dictated, and all more or less laced on the seams;
much in the manner as was the case with the Honourable
the King the morning I saw him leave for Nully. This
entertainment was altogether the best conducted of any I
ever attended, the gentlemen being condescending, and without
the least pride, and the ladies all grace.' ”

“Graces would be more expressive, if you will excuse
my suggesting a word, sir,” observed John Effingham, as
the other paused to take breath.

“`I have observed that the people in most monarchies
are abject and low-minded in their deportment. Thus the
men take off their hats when they enter churches, although

the minister be not present; and even the boys take off
their hats when they enter private houses. This is commencing
servility young. I have even seen men kneeling
on the cold pavements of the churches in the most abject
manner, and otherwise betraying the feeling naturally
created by slavish institutions.”

“Lord help 'em!” exclaimed the captain, “if they
begin so young, what a bowing and kneeling set of blackguards
they will get to be in time.”

“It is to be presumed that Mr. Dodge has pointed out
the consequences in the instance of the abject old men
mentioned, who probably commenced their servility by
entering houses with their hats off,” said John Effingham.

“Just so, sir,” rejoined the editor. “I throw in these
little popular traits because I think they show the differences
between nations.”

“From which I infer,” said Mr. Sharp, “that in your
part of America boys do not take off their hats when they
enter houses, nor men kneel in churches?”

“Certainly not, sir. Our people get their ideas of manliness
early; and as for kneeling in churches, we have
some superstitious sects—I do not mention them; but, on
the whole, no nation can treat the house of God more rationally
than we do in America.”

“That I will vouch for,” rejoined John Effingham;
“for the last time I was at home I attended a concert in
one of them, where an artiste of singular nasal merit
favoured the company with that admirable piece of conjoined
sentiment and music entitled `Four-and-twenty fiddlers
all in a row!”

“I'll engage for it,” cried Mr. Dodge, swelling with national
pride; “and felt all the time as independent and
easy as if he was in a tavern. Oh! superstition is quite
extinct in Ameriky! But I have a few remarks on the
church in my notes upon England: perhaps you would
like to hear them?”

“Let me intreat you to read them,” said the true Sir
George Templemore, a little eagerly.

“Now, I protest against any illiberality,” added the
false Sir George, shaking his finger.

Mr. Dodge disregarded both; but, turning to the place,
he read aloud with his usual self-complacency and unction.

“`To-day, I attended public worship in St. — church,
Minories. The congregation was composed of many of
the first people of England, among whom were present Sir
Solomon Snore, formerly HIGH sheriff of London, a gentleman
of the first consideration in the empire, and the
celebrated Mr. Shilling, of the firm of Pound, Shilling, and
Pence. There was certainly a fine air of polite life in the
congregation, but a little too much idolatry. Sir Solomon
and Mr. Shilling were both received with distinction, which
was very proper, when we remember their elevated rank;
but the genuflexions and chaunting met with my very unqualified
disapprobation.' ”

“Sir Solomon and the other personage you mention
were a little pursy, perhaps,” observed Mr. Sharp, “which
destroyed their grace.”

“I disapprove of all kneeling, on general principles,
sir. If we kneel to one, we shall get to kneel to another,
and no one can tell where it will end. `The exclusive
manner in which the congregation were seated in pews,
with sides so high that it was difficult to see your nearest
neighbour; and these pews' (Mr. Dodge pronounced this
word poohs,) `have often curtains that completely enclose
their owners, a system of selfishness that would not be
long tolerated in Ameriky.' ”

“Do individuals own their pews in America?” inquired
Mr. Sharp.

“Often,” returned John Effingham; “always, except in
those particular portions of the country where it is deemed
invidious, and contrary to the public rights, to be better off
than one's neighbour, by owning any thing that all the community
has not a better claim to than its proprietor.”

“And cannot the owner of a pew curtain it, with a view
to withdraw into himself at public worship?”

“America and England are the antipodes of each other
in all these things. I dare say, now, that you have come
among us with an idea that our liberty is so very licentious,
that a man may read a newspaper by himself?”

“I confess, certainly, to that much,” returned Mr. Sharp,
smiling.

“We shall teach him better than this, Mr. Dodge, before
we let him depart. No, sir, you have very contracted ideas
of liberty, I perceive. With us every thing is settled by
majorities. We eat when the majority eats; drink, when the
majority drinks; sleep, when the majority sleeps; pray,
when the majority prays. So far from burying ourselves in
deep wells of pews, with curtains round their edges, we have
raised the floors, amphitheatre fashion, so that every body
can see every body; have taken away the sides of the pews,
which we have converted into free and equal seats, and have
cut down the side of the pulpit so that we can look at the
clergyman; but I understand there is actually a project on
foot to put the congregation into the pulpit, and the parson
into the aisle, by way of letting the latter see that he is no
better than he should be. This would be a capital arrangement,
Mr. Dodge, for the `Four-and-twenty fiddlers all in a
row.' ”

The editor of the Active Inquirer was a little distrustful of
John Effingham, and he was not sorry to continue his extracts,
although he was obliged to bring himself still further
under the fire of his assailant.

“`This morning,' Mr. Dodge resumed, I stepped into the
coffee-room of the `Shovel and Tongs,' public-house, to read
the morning paper, and, taking a seat by the side of a
gentleman who was reading the `Times,' and, drawing to
me the leaves of the journal, so that it would be more convenient
to peruse, the man insolently and arrogantly demanded
of me, `What the devil I meant?' This intolerance
in the English character is owing to the narrowness of the
institutions, under which men come to fancy liberty applies
to persons instead of majorities.' ”

“You perceive, Mr. Sharp,” said John Effingham, “how
much more able a stranger is to point out the defects of national
character than a native. I dare say that in indulging
your individuality, hitherto, you have imagined you were
enjoying liberty.”

“I fear I have committed some such weakness — but Mr.
Dodge will have the goodness to proceed.”

The editor complied as follows:—“ `Nothing has surprised
me more than the grovelling propensities of the English

on the subject of names. Thus this very inn, which
in America would be styled the `Eagle Tavern,' or the
`Oriental or Occidental Hotel,' or the `Anglo-Saxon Democratical
Coffee-house,' or some other equally noble and dignified
appellation, is called the `Shovel and Tongs.' One
tavern, which might very appropriately be termed `The
Saloon of Peace,' is very vulgarly called `Dolly's Chophouse.'
”

All the gentlemen, not excepting Mr. Sharp, murmured
their disgust at so coarse a taste. But most of the party began
now to tire of this pretending ignorance and provincial
vulgarity, and, one by one, most of them soon after left the
table. Captain Truck, however, sent for Mr. Leach, and
these two worthies, with Mr. Dodge and the spurious baronet,
sat an hour longer, when all retired to their berths.