just as well as I do.'

"'No I don't,' says I.

"'But you do!' he returns. 'There's your Uncle Sam: he will steal all
territory adjoining his dominions,--in a good-natured sort of way,
merely to work out the problem of manifest destiny. As for my old
gentleman, Uncle John, why he has a dignified way of doing things,
always plays the part of a bold gentleman, and when he joins a kingdom
it is with a modesty so quiet and genteel. You needn't shake your
head, Smooth,--such are facts; nevertheless, they are both tenacious
of their rights--a national trait of great value,--and will shed a
river of human blood to gain a very small point on paper. Like two
great gamblers, they are opposed to the principle of give and take,
standing steadfastly by the _take_. Once they were father and
son--thus, the inheritance may be pardoned; and when they quarrelled
it was not to be expected the son would relinquish the traits so
paternally bestowed. Now the parent is obstinate and the son 'cute;
but the son has an eccentricity that prompts him to outwit. Not
unfrequently the father lets the son--just for peace sake--have his
own way; but this letting him have his own way has inclined his heart
rather to the ungrateful than otherwise. His demands are at times
somewhat funny, and when made known surprise a world. And now that
they are so firmly and extensively identified with each other in
pursuits of the noblest character, would it not be a sin to quarrel?'
Thus spoke John, very complacently.

"As he got through, the negro produced some liquor, piping hot. To
be good-natured, and keep cool, is one-half the battle; and to move
those very desirable traits of our nature, we put a hot punch a-piece
into the mentality of the inner man, smoked a couple of long nines,
bowed compliments, and packed up our duds for the voyage. There was a
great gathering where the balloon was blowing up; but Mr. John
Littlejohn and me walked cordially down and took our seat, bundled in
our traps, and sung out, 'Cut away the strings, and let her go!' I
said I would steer for Uncle Sam, and John said he would steer for Mr.
Bull; so, not feeling inclined to quarrel about the point, and knowing
full well that the mother of constitutional governments (some
facetiously called her the mother of constitutional incongruities)
always liked to have the first trick at the wheel, we tossed
coppers--after the fashion of good-natured diplomatists, when a large
stake is at iss