Here!' cried the young Columbian, idealising
the dining-table, 'upon ancestral ashes, cemented with the glorious
blood poured out like water on our native plains of Chickabiddy Lick!
Bring forth that Lion!' said the young Columbian. 'Alone, I dare him! I
taunt that Lion. I tell that Lion, that Freedom's hand once twisted
in his mane, he rolls a corse before me, and the Eagles of the Great
Republic laugh ha, ha!'
When it was found that the Lion didn't come, but kept out of the way;
that the young Columbian stood there, with folded arms, alone in his
glory; and consequently that the Eagles were no doubt laughing wildly on
the mountain tops; such cheers arose as might have shaken the hands upon
the Horse-Guards' clock, and changed the very mean time of the day in
England's capital.
'Who is this?' Martin telegraphed to La Fayette.
The Secretary wrote something, very gravely, on a piece of paper,
twisted it up, and had it passed to him from hand to hand. It was an
improvement on the old sentiment: 'Perhaps as remarkable a man as any in
our country.'
This young Columbian was succeeded by another, to the full as eloquent
as he, who drew down storms of cheers.
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