questioning the legitimate qualities of this sublime joint-stock
company; but we would advise its keeping decidedly cool about matters
this side of the big water, lest its stock get to a very low-water
mark. This old flounder, nevertheless, is a hard case for cooks, nor
in my opinion will he be made softer by that celebrated French cook of
yours, whose process is that of too suddenly piling on the charcoal.
In fact, I believe it not untrue that in political cooking a Frenchman
is more a man of muss than method. This you, General, might have known
before you engaged him to cater for Spanish appetites. In truth, (it
must be told now and then, General), that black pig you so fondly
nurse, and which you can neither tame nor make grateful, is
sacrificing us to his poisonous litter. And, too, he is dividing his
own pen; and when pigs become divided among themselves, refuse to eat
out of one trough, and threaten to devour each other, they are sure to
become an easy prey to the bore of fractional sovereignity.' With the
exception of the General, all listened attentively while I spoke: he,
exhibiting little concern, arose with the calmness of moonlight, and
was about to make some remarks, as the flounder again opened wide his
mouth, which produced a pause. 'You are right,' joined in the
flounder; 'that black pig's love of territorial feasts knows no
bounds, nor will he stop at that point where justice sets the limit;
he will continue his insatiate trade until common sense and generous
sentiment interpose and exterminate him. Here is another paper for
you--read it! It is the protest of the people of free, enlightened,
and happy New England: they protest against being swallowed up in your
black pig's bowels!' Again the flounder mechanically closed its mouth.

"'And my old governor across the water will not view with indifference
this black brute's ever-threatening disturbances. He watches long,
waits patiently, moves cautiously, but enters upon the execution of
his plans with monstrous method,' interrupted Littlejohn, who spoke on
behalf of his nation, and for the _status quo_ of nationalities in
general.

"'I say, neighbor,' rejoins Mr. Sam Blowaway, a leader of the national
Young American party, 'pears how, if your old chap over there attempts
that game, he'll get himself boots deep into a scrape he'll not find
it so easy to claw out on.' And Sam got right up, and looked brimstone
at him, straight across the table.

"'I'm m