University of Virginia Library

15. CHAPTER XV.

As I knew Mary must have communicated to her father
my real name, I did not hesitate, as I ought to have done in
my actual dress and in my assumed character, about following
them, in order to inquire if I could be of any service.
I never saw distress more strongly painted in any
man's countenance than it was in that of Mr. Warren, when
I approached. So very obvious, indeed, was his emotion,
that I did not venture to obtrude myself on him, but followed
in silence; and he and Mary slowly walked, side by side,
across the street to the stoop of a house, of which all the
usual inmates had probably gone in the other direction.
Here, Mr. Warren took a seat, Mary still at his side, while
I drew near, standing before him.

“I thank you, Mr. Littlepage,” the divine at length said,
with a smile so painful it was almost haggard, “for, so
Mary tells me you should be called — I thank you for this
attention, sir—but, it will be over in another minute—I feel
better now, and shall be able to command myself.”

No more was then said, concerning the reason of this
distress; but Mary has since explained to me its cause.
When her father went into the meeting-house, he had not the
smallest idea that anything like a religious service would be
dragged into the ceremonies of such a day. The two ministers
on the stage first gave him the alarm; when a most
painful struggle occurred in his mind, whether or not he
should remain, and be a party to the mockery of addressing

God in prayer, in an assembly collected to set at naught
one of the plainest of his laws — nay, with banded felons
drawn up around the building, as principal actors in the
whole mummery. The alternative was for him, a minister
of the altar, to seem to quit those who were about to join in
prayer, and to do this moreover under circumstances which
might appear to others as if he rejected all worship but that
which was in accordance with his own views of right, a
notion that would be certain to spread far and near, greatly
to the prejudice of his own people. But the first, as he
viewed the matter, involved a species of blasphemy; and
yielding to his feelings, he took the decided step he had, intending
to remain out of the building, until the more regular
business of the day commenced.

It is certain Mr. Warren, who acted under the best impulse
of christian feeling, a reverence for God, and a profound
wish not to be a party in offending him with the
mockery of worship under such circumstances, has lost
much influence, and made many enemies, by the step he
then took. The very same feeling which has raised the
cry of aristocracy against every gentleman who dwells in
sufficiently near contact with the masses to distinguish his
habits from those around him; which induces the eastern
emigrant, who comes from a state of society where there
are no landlords, to fancy those he finds here ought to be
pulled down, because he is not a landlord himself; which
enables the legislator to stand up in his place, and unblushingly
talk about feudal usages, at the very instant he is
demonstrating that equal rights are denied to those he would
fain stigmatize as feudal lords, has extended to religion, and
the church of which Mr. Warren was a minister, is very
generally accused of being aristocratic, too! This charge
is brought because it has claims which other churches affect
to renounce and reject as forming no part of the faith; but
the last cannot remain easy under their own decisions;
and while they shout, and sing that they have found “a
church without a bishop,” they hate the church that has a
bishop, because it has something they do not possess themselves,
instead of pitying its deluded members, if they believe
them wrong. This will not be admitted generally, but
it is nevertheless true; and betrays itself in a hundred ways.

It is seen in the attempt to call their own priests bishops, in
the feeling so manifest whenever a cry can be raised against
their existence, and in the general character of these theological
rallies, whenever they do occur.

For one, I see a close analogy between my own church, as
it exists in this country, and comparing it with that from which
it sprung, and to those which surround it, and the true political
circumstances of the two hemispheres. In discarding a vast
amount of surplusage, in reducing the orders of the ministry
in practice, as well as in theory, to their primitive number,
three, and in rejecting all connection with the State, the American
branch of the Episcopal Church has assumed the position
it was desirous to fill; restoring, as near as may be, the
simplicity of the apostolical ages, while it does not disregard
the precepts and practices of the apostles themselves. It
has not set itself above antiquity and authority, but merely
endeavoured to sustain them, without the encumbrances of
more modern abuses. Thus, too, has it been in political
things. No attempt has been made to create new organic
social distinctions in this country, but solely to disencumber
those that are inseparable from the existence of all civilized
society, of the clumsy machinery with which the expedients
of military oppressors had invested them. The real
sages of this country, in founding its institutions, no more
thought of getting rid of the landlords of the country, than
the church thought of getting rid of its bishops. The first
knew that the gradations of property were an inevitable
incident of civilization; that it would not be wise, if it were
possible, to prevent the affluent from making large investments
in the soul; and that this could not be done in practice,
without leaving the relation of landlord and tenant.
Because landlords, in other parts of the world, possessed
privileges that were not necessary to the natural or simple
existence of the character, was no reason for destroying
the character itself; any more than the fact that the
bishops of England possess an authority the apostles
knew nothing of, rendered it proper for the American
branch of the church to do away with an office that came
from the apostles. But, envy and jealousy do not pause
to reflect on such things; it is enough for them, in the one
case, that you and yours have estates, and occupy social

positions, that I and mine do not, and cannot easily, occupy
and possess; therefore I will oppose you, and join my voice
to the cry of those who wish to get their farms for nothing;
and in the other, that you have bishops when we can have
none, without abandoning our present organization and doctrines.

I dwell on these points at some little length, because the
movements of Mr. Warren and myself, at that moment, had
a direct influence on the circumstances that will soon be
related. It is probable that fully one-half of those collected
in the Little Nest meeting-house, that morning, as they stood
up, and lent a sort of one-sided and listless attention to the
prayer, were thinking of the scandalous and aristocratical
conduct of Mr. Warren, in “goin' out o' meetin' just as
meetin' went to prayers!” Few, indeed, were they who
would be likely to ascribe any charitable motive for the
act; and probably not one of those present thought of the
true and conscientious feeling that had induced it. So the
world wags! It is certain that a malignant and bitter feeling
was got up against the worthy rector on that occasion,
and for that act, which has not yet abated, and which will
not abate in many hundreds, until the near approach of
death shall lay bare to them the true character of so many
of their own feelings.

It was some minutes before Mr. Warren entirely regained
his composure. At length he spoke to me, in his usual benevolent
and mild way, saying a few words that were complimentary,
on the subject of my return, while he expressed
his fears that my uncle Ro and myself had been imprudent
in thus placing ourselves, as it might be, in the lion's
jaws.

“You have certainly made your disguises so complete,”
he added, smiling, “as to have escaped wonderfully well so
far. That you should deceive Mary and myself is no great
matter, since neither of us ever saw you before; but, the
manner in which your nearest relatives have been misled,
is surprising. Nevertheless, you have every inducement to
be cautious, for hatred and jealousy have a penetration that
does not belong even to love.”

“We think we are safe, sir,” I answered, “for we are
certainly within the statute. We are too well aware of our

miserable aristocratical condition to place ourselves within
the grasp of the law, for such are our eminent privileges as
a landed nobility, that we are morally certain either of us
would not only be sent to the state's prison were he to be
guilty of the felony those Injins are committing, and will
commit, with perfect impunity, but that he would be kept
there, as long as a single tear of anguish could be wrung
from one of those who are classed with the aristocracy. Democracy
alone finds any sympathy in the ordinary administration
of American justice.”

“I am afraid that your irony has only too much truth in
it. But the movement around the building would seem to
say that the real business of the day is about to commence,
and we had better return to the church.”

“Those men in disguise are watching us, in a most unpleasant
and alarming manner,” said Mary Warren, delighting
me far more by the vigilance she thus manifested in my
behalf, than alarming me by the fact.

That we were watched, however, became obviously apparent,
as we walked towards the building, by the actions of
some of the Injins. They had left the side of the church
where they had posted themselves during the prayer, and
head was going to head, among those nearest to us; or, it
would be nearer to appearances, were I to say bunch of
calico was going to bunch of calico, for nothing in the form
of a head was visible among them. Nothing was said to
Mr. Warren and Mary, however, who were permitted to go
into the meeting-house, unmolested; but two of these disguised
gentry placed themselves before me, laying their
rifles across my path, and completely intercepting my advance.

“Who you?” abruptly demanded one of the two;—
“where go—where come from?”

The answer was ready, and I trust it was sufficiently
steady.

“I coomes from Charmany, und I goes into der kerch,
as dey say in mine coontry; what might be callet meetin'-'us,
here.”

What might have followed, it is not easy to say, had not
the loud, declamatory voice of the lecturer just then been
heard, as he commenced his address. This appeared to be

a signal for the tribe to make some movement, for the two
fellows who had stopped me, walked silently away, though
bag of calico went to bag of calico, as they trotted off together,
seemingly communicating to each other their suspicions.
I took advantage of the opening, and passed into
the church, where I worked my way through the throng,
and got a seat at my uncle's side.

I have neither time, room, nor inclination to give anything
like an analysis of the lecture. The speaker was
fluent, inflated, and anything but logical. Not only did he
contradict himself, but he contradicted the laws of nature.
The intelligent reader will not require to be reminded of the
general character of a speech that was addressed to the
passions and interests of such an audience, rather than to
their reason. He commented, at first, on the particular
covenants of the leases on the old estates of the colony,
alluding to the quarter-sales, chickens, days' work, and durable
tenures, in the customary way. The reservation of
the mines, too, was mentioned as a tyrannical covenant,
precisely as if a landlord were obliged to convey any more
of the rights that were vested in him, than he saw fit; or the
tenant could justly claim more than he had hired! This
man treated all these branches of the subject, as if the
tenants had acquired certain mysterious interests by time
and occupation, overlooking the fact that the one party got
just as good a title as the other by this process; the lease
being the instrument between them, that was getting to be
venerable. If one party grew old as a tenant, so did the
other as a landlord. I thought that this lecturer would have
been glad to confine himself to the Manor leases, that being
the particular branch of the subject he had been accustomed
to treat; but, such was not the precise nature of the job he
was now employed to execute. At Ravensnest, he could
not flourish the feudal grievance of the quarter-sales, the
“four fat fowls,” the “days' works,” and the length of the
leases. Here it was clearly his cue to say nothing of the
three first, and to complain of the shortness of the leases, as
mine were about to fall in, in considerable numbers. Finding
it was necessary to take new ground, he determined it
should be bold ground, and such as would give him the least
trouble to get along with.

As soon as the lecturer had got through with his general
heads, and felt the necessity of coming down to particulars,
he opened upon the family of Littlepage, in a very declamatory
way. What had they ever done for the country, he
demanded, that they should be lords in the land? By some
process known to himself, he had converted landlords into
lords in the land, and was now aiming to make the tenants
occupy the latter station—nay, both stations. Of course,
some services of a public character, of which the Littlepages
might boast, were not touched upon at all, everything
of that nature being compressed into what the lecturer and
his audience deemed serving the people, by helping to indulge
them in all their desires, however rapacious or wicked. As
everybody who knows anything of the actual state of
matters among us, must be aware how rarely the “people”
hear the truth, when their own power and interests are in
question, it is not surprising that a very shallow reasoner
was enabled to draw wool over the eyes of the audience of
Ravensnest on that particular subject.

But my interest was most awakened when this man came
to speak of myself. It is not often that a man enjoys the
same opportunity as that I then possessed to hear his own
character delineated, and his most private motives analyzed.
In the first place, the audience were told that this “young
Hugh Littlepage had never done anything for the land that
he proudly, and like a great European noble, he calls his
`estate.' Most of you, fellow-citizens, can show your hard
hands, and recall the burning suns under which you have
opened the swarth, through those then lovely meadows
yonder, as your titles to these farms. But, Hugh Littlepage
never did a day's work in his life”—ten minutes before he
had been complaining of the “days' work” in the Manor
leases as indignities that a freeman ought not to submit to—
“no, fellow-citizens, he never had that honour, and never
will have it, until by a just division of his property, or what
he now calls his property, you reduce him to the necessity
of labouring to raise the crops he wants to consume.”

“Where is this Hugh Littlepage at this very moment?
In Paris, squandering your hard earnings in riotous living,
according to the best standards of aristocracy. He lives in
the midst of abundance, dresses richly and fares richly,

while you and yours are eating the sweat of your brows.
He is no man for a pewter spoon and two-pronged fork!
No, my countrymen! He must have a gold spoon for some
of his dishes, and you will find it hard to believe—plain,
unpretending, republican farmers as you are, but it is not
the less true—he must have forks of silver! Fellow-citizens,
Hugh Littlepage would not put his knife into his
mouth, as you and I do, in eating—as all plain, unpretending
republicans do—for the world. It would choke him;
no, he keeps silver forks to touch his anointed lips!” Here
there was an attempt to get up something like applause, but
it totally failed. The men of Ravensnest had been accustomed
all their lives to see the Littlepages in the social station
they occupied; and, after all, it did not seem so very
extraordinary that we should have silver forks, any more
than that others should have silver spoons. The lecturer
had the tact to see that he had failed on this point, and he
turned to another.

The next onset was made against our title. Whence
did it come? demanded the lecturer. From the king of
England; and the people had conquered the country from
that sovereign, and put themselves in his place. Now, is it
not a good principle in politics, that to the victors belong
the spoils? He believed it was; and that in conquering
America, he was of opinion that the people of America had
conquered the land, and that they had a right to take the
land, and to keep it. Titles from kings he did not respect
much; and he believed the American people, generally, did
not think much of them. If Hugh Littlepage wished an
“estate,” as he called it, let him come to the people and
“sarve them,” and see what sort of an estate they would
give him.

But there was one portion of his speech which was so
remarkable, that I must attempt to give it, as it was uttered.
It was while the lecturer was expatiating on this subject of
titles, that he broke out in the following language:—“Don't
talk to me,” he bellowed — for by this time his voice had
risen to the pitch of a methodist's, in a camp-meeting —
“Don't talk to me of antiquity, and time, and length of possession,
as things to be respected. They 're nawthin'—jest
nawthin' at all. Possession 's good in law, I 'll admit; and

I contind that 's jest what the tenants has. They 've got the
lawful possession of this very property, that layeth (not
eggs, but) up and down, far and near, and all around; a
rich and goodly heritage, when divided up among hard-working
and honest folks; but too much, by tens of thousands
of acres, for a young chap, who is wasting his substance
in foreign lands, to hold. I contind that the tenants
has this very, precise, lawful possession, at this blessed moment,
only the law won't let 'em enj'y it. It 's all owing to
that accursed law, that the tenant can't set up a title ag'in
his landlord. You see by this one fact, fellow-citizens, that
they are a privileged class, and ought to be brought down
to the level of gin'ral humanity. You can set up title ag'in
anybody else, but you shau't set up title ag'in a landlord.
I know what is said in the primisis,” shaking his head, in
derision of any arguments on the other side of this particular
point; “I know that circumstances alter cases. I can
see the hardship of one neighbour's coming to another, and
asking to borrow or hire his horse for a day, and then pretendin'
to hold him on some other ketch. But horses isn't
land; you must all allow that. No, if horses was land,
the ease would be altered. Land is an element, and so is
fire, and so is water, and so is air. Now, who will say that
a freeman hasn't a right to air, hasn't a right to water, and,
on the same process, hasn't a right to land? He has, fellow-citizens—he
has. These are what are called in philosophy
elementary rights; which is the same thing as a right to
the elements, of which land is one, and a principal one. I
say a principal one; for, if there was no land to stand on,
we should drop away from air, and couldn't enj'y that; we
should lose all our water in vapour, and couldn't put it to
millin' and manafacterin' purposes; and where could we
build our fires? No; land is the first elementary right, and
connected with it comes the first and most sacred right to
the elements.

“I do not altogether disregard antiquity, neither. No;
I respect and revere pre-emption rights; for they fortify and
sustain the right to the elements. Now, I do not condemn
squattin', as some doos. It 's actin' accordin' to natur', and
natur' is right. I respect and venerate a squatter's possession;
for it 's held under the sacred principle of usefulness.

It says, `go and make the wilderness blossom as the rose,'
and means `progress.' That 's an antiquity I respect. I
respect the antiquity of your possessions here, as tenants;
for it is a hard-working and useful antiquity — an antiquity
that increases and multiplies. If it be said that Hugh Littlepage's
ancestors — your noble has his `ancestors,' while
us `common folks' are satisfied with forefathers”—[this hit
took with a great many present, raising a very general
laugh] —“but if this Hugh's ancestors did pay anything
for the land, if I was you, fellow-citizens, I'd be gin'rous,
and let him have it back ag'in. Perhaps his forefathers
gave a cent an acre to the king — may be, two; or say sixpence,
if you will. I 'd let him have his sixpence an acre
back again, by way of shutting his mouth. No; I 'm for
nawthin' that 's ungin'rous.”

“Fellow-citizens, I profess to be what is called a Democrat.
I know that many of you be what is called Whigs—but
I apprehend there is'nt much difference between us on the
subject of this system of leasing land. We are all republicans,
and leasing farms is anti-republican. Then, I wish
to be liberal even to them I commonly oppose at elections,
and I will freely admit, then, on the whull, the Whigs have
rather out-done us Democrats, on the subject of this anti-rentism.
I am sorry to be obliged to own in it, but it must
be confessed that, while in the way of governors, there
hasn't been much difference—yes, put 'em in a bag, and
shake 'em up, and you'd hardly know which would come
out first—which has done himself the most immortal honour,
which has shown himself the most comprehensive, profound
and safe statesman; I know that some of our people complain
of the governors for ordering out troops ag'in the
Injins, but they could not help that—they wouldn't have
done it, in my judgment, had there been any way of getting
round it; but the law was too strong for them, so they
druv' in the Injins, and now they join us in putting down
aristocracy, and in raising up gin'ral humanity. No; I don't
go ag'in the governors, though many doos.”

“But I profess to be a Democrat, and I'll give an outline
of my principles, that all may see why they can't, and
don't, and never will agree with aristocracy or nobility, in
any form or shape. I believe one man is as good as another

in all things. Neither birth, nor law, nor edication,
nor riches, nor poverty, nor anything else can ever make
any difference in this principle, which is sacred, and fundamental,
and is the chief stone of the corner in true Democracy.
One man is as good as another, I say, and has just the same
right to the enj'yment of 'arth and its privileges, as any
other man. I think the majority ought to rule in all things,
and that it is the duty of the minority to submit. Now, I've
had this here sentiment thrown back upon me, in some
places where I have spoken, and been asked `how is this—
the majority must rule, and the minority must submit—in
that case, the minority is'nt as good as the majority in practice,
and hasn't the same right. They are made to own
what they think ought not to be done?' The answer to this
is so plain, I wonder a sensible man can ask the question,
for all the minority has to do, is to join the majority, to have
things as they want 'em. The road is free, and it is this
open road that makes true liberty. Any man can fall in
with the majority, and sensible folks commonly do, when
they can find it, and that makes a person not only a man,
as the saying is, but a FREEMAN, a still more honourable
title.”

“Fellow-citizens, a great movement is in progress, “Go
ahead!” is the cry, and the march is onward; our thoughts
already fly about on the wings of the lightning, and our
bodies move but little slower, on the vapour of steam—soon
our principles will rush ahead of all, and let in the radiance
of a glorious day of universal reform, and loveliness, and
virtue and charity, when the odious sound of rent will never
be heard, when every man will set down under his own
apple, or cherry tree, if not under his own fig tree.

“I am a Democrat, — yes, a Democrat. Glorious appellation!
I delight in it! It is my pride, my boast, my very
virtue. Let but the people truly rule, and all must come
well. The people has no temptation to do wrong. If they
hurt the state, they hurt themselves, for they are the state.
Is a man likely to hurt himself? Equality is my axiom.
Nor, by equality, do I mean your narrow pitiful equality
before the law, as it is sometimes tarmed, for that may be
no equality at all; but, I mean an equality that is substantial,
and which must be restored, when the working of the

law has deranged it. Fellow-citizens, do you know what
leap-year means? I dare say some of you don't, the ladies
in partic'lar not giving much attention to astronomy. Well,
I have inquired, and it is this: — The 'arth revolves around
the sun in a year, as we all know. And we count three
hundred and sixty-five days in a year, we all know. But,
the 'arth is a few hours longer than three hundred and sixty-five
days, in making its circuit—nearly six hours longer.
Now, everybody knows that 4 times 6 makes 24, and so a
twenty-ninth day is put into February, every fourth year, to
restore the lost time; another change being to be made a
long distance ahead to settle the fractions. Thus will it be
with Democracy. Human natur' can't devise laws yet, that
will keep all things on an exactly equal footing, and political
leap-years must be introduced into the political calendar, to
restore the equilibrium. In astronomy, we must divide up
anew the hours and minutes; in humanity, we must, from
time to time, divide up the land.”

But, I cannot follow this inflated fool any longer; for he
was quite as much of fool as of knave, though partaking
largely of the latter character. It was plain that he carried
many of his notions much farther than a good portion of
his audience carried theirs; though, whenever he touched
upon anti-rentism, he hit a chord that vibrated through the
whole assembly. That the tenants ought to own their
farms, and pay no more rents, AND POCKET ALL THE BENEFITS
OF THEIR OWN PREVIOUS LABOURS, THOUGH THESE
LABOURS HAD BEEN CONSIDERED IN THE EARLIER RENTS,
AND WERE, INDEED, STILL CONSIDERED, IN THE LOW RATES
AT WHICH THE LANDS WERE LET, was a doctrine all could
understand; and few were they, I am sorry to say, who did
not betray how much self-love and self-interest had obscured
the sense of right.

The lecture, such as it was, lasted more than two hours;
and when it was done, an individual rose, in the character
of a chairman—when did three Americans ever get together
to discuss anything, that they had not a chairman and secretary,
and all the parliamentary forms?—and invited any
one present, who might entertain views different from the
speaker, to give his opinion. Never before did I feel so
tempted to speak in public. My first impulse was to throw

away the wig, and come out in my own person, and expose
the shallow trash that had just been uttered. I believe even
I, unaccustomed as I was to public speaking, could easily
have done this, and I whispered as much to my uncle, who
was actually on his feet, to perform the office for me, when
the sound of “Mr. Chairman,” from a different part of the
church, anticipated him. Looking round, I recognised at
once the face of the intelligent mechanic, named Hall, whom
we had met at Mooseridge, on our way to the Nest. I took
my seat, at once, perfectly satisfied that the subject was in
good hands.

This speaker commenced with great moderation, both of
manner and tone, and, indeed, he preserved them throughout.
His utterance, accent and language, of course, were
all tinctured by his habits and associations; but his good
sense and his good principles were equally gifts from above.
More of the “true image of his maker” was to be found in
that one individual than existed in fifty common men. He
saw clearly, spoke clearly, and demonstrated effectively.
As he was well known in that vicinity and generally respected,
he was listened to with profound attention, and
spoke like a man who stood in no dread of tar and feathers.
Had the same sentiments been delivered by one in a fine
coat, and a stranger, or even by myself, who had so much
at stake, very many of them would have been incontinently
set down as aristocratic, and not to be tolerated, the most
sublimated lover of equality occasionally falling into these
little contradictions.

Hall commenced by reminding the audience that they all
knew him, and knew he was no landlord. He was a mechanic,
and a labouring man, like most of themselves, and
had no interest that could be separate from the general good
of society. This opening was a little homage to prejudice,
since reason is reason, and right right, let them come whence
they will. “I, too, am a democrat,” he went on to say,
“but I do not understand democracy to mean anything like
that which has been described by the last speaker. I tell
that gentleman plainly, that if he is a democrat, I am none;
and if I am a democrat, he is none. By democracy I understand
a government in which the sovereign power resides
in the body of the nation; and not in a few, or in one. But

this principle no more gives the body of the people authority
to act wrong, than in a monarchy, in which the sovereign
power resides in one man, that one man has a right to act
wrong. By equality, I do not understand anything more
than equality before the law—now, if the law had said that
when the late Malbone Littlepage died, his farms should go
not to his next of kin, or to his devisee, but to his neighbours,
then that would have been the law to be obeyed,
although it would be a law destructive of civilization, since
men would never accumulate property to go to the public.
Something nearer home is necessary to make men work,
and deny themselves what they like.

“The gentleman has told us of a sort of political leap-year
that is to regulate the social calender. I understand
him to mean that when property has got to be unequal, it
must be divided up, in order that men may make a new
start. I fear he will have to dispense with leap years, and
come to leap months, or leap weeks, ay, or even to leap
days; for, was the property of this township divided up this
very morning, and in this meetin'-us, it would get to be unequal
before night. Some folks can't keep money when
they have it; and others can't keep their hands off it.

“Then, again, if Hugh Littlepage's property is to be
divided, the property of all of Hugh Littlepage's neighbours
ought to be divided too, to make even an appearance of
equality; though it would be but an appearance of equality,
admitting that were done, since Hugh Littlepage has more
than all the rest of the town put together. Yes, fellow-citizens,
Hugh Littlepage pays, at this moment, one-twentieth
of the taxes of this whole county. That is about the
proportion of Ravensnest; and that tax, in reality, comes
out of his pockets, as much the greater part of the taxes of
Rensselaer and Albany counties, if you will except the cities
they contain, are paid by the Rensselaers. It wun't do to
tell me the tenants pay the taxes, for I know better. We
all know that the probable amount of the taxes is estimated
in the original bargain, and is so much deducted from the
rent, and comes out of the landlord if it come out of anybody.
There is a good reason why the tenant should pay
it, and a reason that is altogether in his interest; because
the law would make his oxen, and horses, and carts liable

for the taxes, should the landlord neglect to pay the taxes.
The collector always sells personals for a tax if he can find
them on the property; and by deducting it from the rent,
and paying it himself, the tenant makes himself secure
against that loss. To say that a tenant don't take any
account of the taxes he will be likely to pay, in making his
bargain, is as if one should say he is non com. and not fit
to be trusted with his own affairs. There are men, in this
community, I am sorry to say, who wish a law passed to
tax the rents on durable leases, or on all leases, in order to
choke the landlords off from their claims, but such men are
true friends to neither justice nor their country. Such a
law would be a tax on the incomes of a particular class of
society, and on no other. It is a law that would justify the
aggrieved parties in taking up arms to resist it, unless the
law would give 'em relief, as I rather think it would. By
removing into another State, however, they would escape
the tax completely, laugh at those who framed it, who would
incur the odium of doing an impotent wrong, and get laughed
at as well as despised, besides injuring the State by drawing
away its money to be spent out of its limits. Think, for
one moment, of the impression that would be made of New
York justice, if a hundred citizens of note and standing were
to be found living in Philadelphia or Paris, and circulating
to the world the report that they were exiles to escape a
special taxation! The more the matter was inquired into,
the worse it must appear; for men may say what they
please, to be ready ag'in election time, as there is but one
piece, or parcel of property to tax, it is an income tax, and
nothing else. What makes the matter still worse is, that
every man of sense will know that it is taxing the same
person twice, substantially for the same thing, since the
landlord has the direct land tax deducted from the rent in
the original bargain.

“As for all this cry about aristocracy, I don't understand
it. Hugh Littlepage has just as good a right to his ways as
I have to mine. The gentleman says he needs gold spoons
and silver forks to eat with. Well, what of that? I dare
say the gentleman himself finds a steel knife and fork useful,
and has no objection to a silver, or, at least, to a pewter

spoon. Now, there are folks that use wooden forks, or no
forks, and who are glad to get horn spoons; and they might
call that gentleman himself an aristocrat. This setting of
ourselves up as the standard in all things is anything but
liberty. If I don't like to eat my dinner with a man who
uses a silver fork, no man in this country can compel me.
On the other hand, if young Mr. Littlepage don't like a companion
who chews tobacco, as I do, he ought to be left to
follow his own inclination.

“Then, this doctrine that one man 's as good as another
has got two sides to it. One man ought to have the same
general rights as another, I am ready to allow; but if one
man is as good as another, why do we have the trouble and
cost of elections? We might draw lots, as we do for jurors,
and save a good deal of time and money. We all know
there is ch'ice in men, and I think that so long as the people
have their ch'ice in sayin' who shall and who shall not be
their agents, they 've got all they have any right to. So
long as this is done, the rest of the world may be left to
follow their own ways, provided they obey the laws.

“Then, I am no great admirer of them that are always
telling the people they 're parfect. I know this county pretty
well, as well as most in it; and if there be a parfect man in
Washington county, I have not yet fallen in with him. Ten
millions of imparfect men won't make one parfect man, and
so I don't look for perfection in the people any more than I
do in princes. All I look for in democracy is to keep the
reins in so many hands as to prevent a few from turning
everything to their own account; still, we mustn't forget
that, when a great many do go wrong, it is much worse
than when a few go wrong.

“If my son didn't inherit the property of Malbone Littlepage,
neither will Malbone Littlepage's son inherit mine.
We are on a footing in that respect. As to paying rent,
which some persons think so hard, what would they do if
they had no house to live in, or farm to work? If folks
wish to purchase houses and farms, no one can prevent them
if they have money to do it with; and if they have not, is
it expected other people are to provide them with such things
out of their own—”

Here the speaker was interrupted by a sudden whooping,
and the Injins came pressing into the house in a way to
drive in all the'aisles before them. Men, women and children
leaped from the windows, the distance being trifling, while
others made their escape by the two side-doors, the Injins
coming in only by the main entrance. In less time than it
takes to record the fact, the audience had nearly all dispersed.