"WHAT SO PROUDLY WE HAIL...."
By DAY KEENE
The Pig and Whistle of 1789 was a far cry from
Central Park in 1950. And Ephraim Hale was certain
that more than rum had been used to get him there!
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy
December 1950
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Ephraim Hale yawned a great yawn and awakened. He'd expected to have a headache. Surprisingly, considering the amount of hot buttered rum he'd consumed the night before, he had none. But where in the name of the Continental Congress had he gotten to this time? The last he remembered was parting from Mr. Henry in front of the Pig and Whistle. A brilliant statesman, Mr. Henry.
"Give me liberty or give me death."
E-yah. But that didn't tell him where he was. It looked like a cave. This sort of thing had to stop. Now he was out of the Army and in politics he had to be more circumspect. Ephraim felt in his purse, felt flesh, and every inch of his six feet two blushed crimson. This, Martha would never believe.
He sat up on the floor of the cave. The thief who had taken his clothes had also stolen his purse. He was naked and penniless. And he the representative from Middlesex to the first Congress to convene in New York City in this year of our Lord, 1789.
He searched the floor of the cave. All the thief had left, along with his home-cobbled brogans, his Spanish pistol, and the remnants of an old leather jerkin, was the post from Sam Osgood thanking him for his support in helping to secure Osgood's appointment as Postmaster General.