"The Thirteen Stripes of America in the river, madam!" exclaimed the doctor for the twentieth time; and for the twentieth time he drove his fist upon the table with the aforesaid consequences; "the Thirteen Stripes of America in the river!--it's a step towards the universal peace of the world, and an event not to be paralleled in our times! But what do we hereupon? Why, I'll tell you: instead of receiving our American brethren with repentance, kindness, and honour, we let their ship come up even to the very Custom-house with as little regard as a herring-buss or the Gravesend tilt-boat! "Convince yourself of it by today's _London Chronicle_. Only listen. 'February 8th. Mr. Hammet begged to inform the House of a very recent and extraordinary event; that, at the very time he was speaking, an American ship was in the river Thames, with the Thirteen Stripes flying on board!'--an interjectional bang upon the table.--'She offered to enter at the Custom-house, but the officers were at a loss what to do.' Now, Mr. Physician, what have you to say to this?" "Why, doctor," said Curetoun merrily, "that brother Jonathan was in vastly great haste to get a week sooner where nobody wanted him at all; and so we may conclude that he's very glad the war's over, notwithstanding his swaggering." "But, sir, we _do_ want our Transatlantic brother," instantly rejoined Downwithit, in a vehement and positive voice; "we want all those blessings which America has in such abundance,--her liberty, her patriotism, her pastoral simplicity, her temperance, her humanity, her piety, her----" "Her witches, and her slaves!" added the physician quietly. "Sir," said the minister, innocently, "there has not been either witch or conjuror in America for these last fifty years, and more. If I live another day, I will go to the wharf and glad my eyes with the sight of that most happy vessel wherein the Thirteen Stripes of America are now floating in the river; nor will I refuse to give the right hand of fellowship to the meanest mariner or servant on board, but think myself honoured and happy in his grasp: for methinks there must be something soul-refreshing in the very voice and touch of persons coming from so pious a country. _Here_ we speak with the tongues of worldlings; but _there_ the common converse is framed out of that used by our ancient godly ancestors, who, for conscience sake, emigrated to the American deserts and forests. It is 'holy oil from the lamps of the sanctuary,' as the pious John Clarke calls it; a sort of blessed tongue, which----" "You're an awful smart chap, I calkilate," exclaimed a loud voice in the passage, with a most remarkable kind of twang; "you _are_ mighty 'cute, but I rather guess now the 'squire is _to_ home, and that I must see him right slick away at once, and so here I sticks."