‘Dear me!’ said Martin. ‘I am astonished.’ But he had not the least idea who this Elijah Pogram was; having never heard the name in all his life.
‘If the biler of this vessel was Toe bust, sir,’ said his new acquaintance, ‘and Toe bust now, this would be a festival day in the calendar of despotism; pretty nigh equallin’, sir, in its effects upon the human race, our Fourth of glorious July. Yes, sir, that is the Honourable Elijah Pogram, Member of Congress; one of the master-minds of our country, sir. There is a brow, sir, there!’
‘Quite remarkable,’ said Martin.
‘Yes, sir. Our own immortal Chiggle, sir, is said to have observed, when he made the celebrated Pogram statter in marble, which rose so much con-test and preju-dice in Europe, that the brow was more than mortal. This was before the Pogram Defiance, and was, therefore, a pre-diction, cruel smart.’
‘What is the Pogram Defiance?’ asked Martin, thinking, perhaps, it was the sign of a public-house.
‘An o-ration, sir,’ returned his friend.
‘Oh! to be sure,’ cried Martin. ‘What am I thinking of! It defied—’
‘It defied the world, sir,’ said the other, gravely. ‘Defied the world in general to com-pete with our country upon any hook; and devellop’d our internal resources for making war upon the universal airth. You would like to know Elijah Pogram, sir?’
‘If you please,’ said Martin.
‘Mr Pogram,’ said the stranger—Mr Pogram having overheard every word of the dialogue—‘this is a gentleman from Europe, sir; from England, sir. But gen’rous ene-mies may meet upon the neutral sile of private life, I think.’