[Original]
This done, they both looked at Martin, pausing for a reply.
‘Upon my life,’ said Martin, who had by this time quite recovered his usual coolness, ‘I can’t give you any satisfactory information about it; for the truth is that I—’
‘Stop!’ cried the colonel, glancing sternly at his war correspondent and giving his head one shake after every sentence. ‘That you never heard of Jefferson Brick, sir. That you never read Jefferson Brick, sir. That you never saw the Rowdy Journal, sir. That you never knew, sir, of its mighty influence upon the cabinets of Europe. Yes?’
‘That’s what I was about to observe, certainly,’ said Martin.
‘Keep cool, Jefferson,’ said the colonel gravely. ‘Don’t bust! oh you Europeans! After that, let’s have a glass of wine!’ So saying, he got down from the table, and produced, from a basket outside the door, a bottle of champagne, and three glasses.
‘Mr Jefferson Brick, sir,’ said the colonel, filling Martin’s glass and his own, and pushing the bottle to that gentleman, ‘will give us a sentiment.’ ‘Well, sir!’ cried the war correspondent, ‘Since you have concluded to call upon me, I will respond. I will give you, sir, The Rowdy Journal and its brethren; the well of Truth, whose waters are black from being composed of printers’ ink, but are quite clear enough for my country to behold the shadow of her Destiny reflected in.’
‘Hear, hear!’ cried the colonel, with great complacency. ‘There are flowery components, sir, in the language of my friend?’
‘Very much so, indeed,’ said Martin.
‘There is to-day’s Rowdy, sir,’ observed the colonel, handing him a paper. ‘You’ll find Jefferson Brick at his usual post in the van of human civilization and moral purity.’