“At any rate he used to say that the man who found a new market for Manchester or Birmingham was the true patriot. But still you did not rise to the bait--you did not make any attempt to prove the extent of your patriotism. But perhaps you might be able to show the geographical people that Manchester or Birmingham might have what Mr. Paddleford called a 'look in' so far as Central Africa is concerned.” He glanced at Clare after she had spoken. “Birmingham might certainly have a 'look in' at some of the tribes; it might contract for the constant supply of brass gods for them,” said Claude. “They worship brass out there with nearly as much devotion as people here worship gold. As for Manchester--well, I've been in a valley where Manchester could find a hint or two. The sides of the valley are covered with a plant--a weed which, it it became known, would make cotton valueless. It requires neither to be spun nor woven.” “And you have discovered that miracle, for which the world has been wanting since the days of Adam?” cried Clare, laying down her life and fork, and staring at him. “You have discovered this, and yet you could send that poor publisher empty away, although he had come out from England to meet you and make arrangements for the publication of your book!” “Manchester should be ruined in order that Mr.--Mr.--was his name--Paddleford?--yes, that Mr. Faddleford might float a company,” said Agnes. “Not merely Manchester, but all the cotton-growing states of America would be brought to the verge of ruin,” said he. “The growth of that weed upon the sides of the valley I speak of far exceeds the growth of all the cotton in the world. We travelled for four months through that valley without once losing sight of that weed. Things are done on a large scale in Central Africa. The ground rents there are somewhat less than they are in Middlesex. Can you fancy a valley running from John o'Groat's to Land's End with its sides covered thickly with one weed--say with thistles only?” “And you can tell the world of that valley--of that plant for which the world has been waiting for thousands of years, and yet there is still a doubt in your mind as to whether you should spend an hour talking about it or not!” cried Clare. “Look here, Mr. Westwood; you send a telegram to the President of the Geographical Society appointing a day to reveal to him and his friends--to all the world--the world that has been waiting for certainly six thousand years--some people say six million--for the discovery of that plant--telegraph that, or I shall do it; and when you are at the bureau of telegraphs, just send another message to the publisher who hunted for you, telling him that you accept his offer of twenty-five thousand pounds. He confided in me aboard the steamer with tears in his eyes, that this was the exact sum that he had offered to you for the making of two thick volumes on your adventures, to be ready in four months from to-day.”