“But, Mr. Wilson, the day will be a very sad one for our government and for our countrymen when we can surrender our cardinal virtues of patriotism and self-denial in order to let personal gain shape the destiny of our government. If mere arms and money are more powerful than the ideas of freedom, of equality and of justice, then wealth and brute force will rule the world. But if every true American stands firmly for self-government and an independent system of finance and our own social relations, Britain can never conquer us. Our nation will prosper and put Britons to shame for the selfishness and audacity of their claims. Were I possessed of the powers of an orator, I would not rest until our Colonies were free to govern themselves in behalf of human rights--not wealth.” Everybody looked toward Mrs. Arnold, and those who knew her well expected an outburst of her fiery nature, but the hostess, feeling it was now time for the ladies to retire, arose and interposed very gracefully: “I think we had better retire in favor of the gentlemen, who can settle those questions of state by means of wine and song.” No sooner had the ladies gone, than the host said to the butler at his side: “James, you will now bring in the ‘jolly mariner.’” At once the head waiter appeared bearing a huge punch-bowl laden with a concoction,--the pride of the host. Besides slices of tropical fruits and a foundation of rare old Burgundy, it was made smooth with sugar and Jamaica rum. Then by way of a backbone to “stiffen” it a little, James had put in a good portion of _Cognac_. General Arnold had already drunk with everybody whom he could induce; he was just beginning to feel his importance when the “jolly mariner” arrived, and glasses were filled; then Arnold gave vent to the toast nearest his heart. He arose and proposed, “Here’s success to privateering.” Standing, everybody drank deeply to this sentiment, for the host was enriching himself on it, and Arnold hoped to support his extravagance by it. The punch was so smooth that even the old heads desired another bumper. Old Thomas Milling, the head of the host’s trading-firm, was now beginning to feel rather mellow and when he reflected that privateering smacked of the gay sea-rover he sang a couple of stanzas of the old ballad: “My name was Captain Kidd, “When I sail’d, when I sail’d, “My name was Captain Kidd, “When I sail’d, when I sail’d, “I roamed from sound to sound “And many a ship I found, “That I sank or ran aground, “When I sail’d, when I sail’d; “That I sank or ran aground, “When I sail’d, when I sail’d.” “By George, that punch has the magic in it, Robert, to make Milling turn loose,” said Wilson. “Bravo, Milling.” “Encore, encore.” “Ha, ha! We’ll have the next,” rang out a medley of voices. “All’s well, gentlemen, if it pleases you,” continued the old merchant: