sole people that had the option.
Our Fortunatus' cap was put to better purposes, but to have the cap,
and not to be emasculated by the possession, might excuse a little
reasonable pride in ourselves.

Thus did Optimism and Pessimism have their turn, like the two great
parties in the State, and the subsiding see-saw restored a proper
balance, much to the nation's comfort. Unhappily, it was remembered,
there are spectators of its method of getting to an equipoise out of
the agitation of extremes. The peep at our treasures to regain composure
had, we fear, given the foreigner glimpses, and whetted the appetite of
our masses. No sooner are we at peace than these are heard uttering low
howls, and those are seen enviously glaring. The spectre, Panic, that
ever dogs the optimistic feast, warns us of a sack under our beds, and
robbers about to try a barely-bolted door... Then do we, who have so
sweetly sung our senses to sleep, start up, in their grip, rush to the
doctor and the blacksmith, rig alarums, proclaim ourselves intestinally
torn, defenceless, a prey to foes within and without. It is discovered
to be no worse than an alderman's dream, but the pessimist frenzy of
the night has tossed a quieting sop to the Radical, and summoned the
volunteers to a review. Laudatory articles upon the soldierly 'march
past' of our volunteers permit of a spell of soft repose, deeper than
prudent, at the end of it, India and Ireland consenting.

So much for a passing outline of John Bull--the shadow on the wall
of John Mattock. The unostentatious millionaire's legacy to his two
children affected Mr. Bull thrillingly, pretty nearly as it has here
been dotted in lining. That is historical. Could he believe in the
existence of a son of his, a master of millions, who had never sighed
(and he had only to sigh) to die a peer, or a baronet, or simple Knight?
The downright hard-nailed coffin fact was there; the wealthiest man
in the country had flown away to Shadowland a common Mr.! You see the
straight deduction from the circumstances:--we are, say what you will,
a Republican people! Newspaper articles on the watch sympathetically for
Mr. Bull's latest view of himself, preached on the theme of our peculiar
Republicanism. Soon after he was observed fondling the Crown Insignia.
His bards flung out their breezy columns, reverentially monarchial. The
Republican was informed that they were despised as a blatant minority. A
maudlin fit of worship of ou