“Still there are one or two points to which I would call your attention. One is, that you can not be too careful of what you say, in regard to its bearing upon the party; and the other is, a general rule that the Public is an ass, but you must never let it know you think so. If there is one thing which the party has practically proved, it is that the people have no will of their own, but are sheep in the hands of the shepherd.”
The General took snuff again.
“The Public, then, is an ass and a sheep?” inquired Abel.
“Yes,” said the General, “an ass in capacity, and in preference of a thistle diet; a sheep in gregarious and stupid following. You say ‘Ca, ca, ca,’ when you want a cow to follow you; and you say ‘Glorious old party,’ and ‘Intelligence of the people,’ and ‘Preference of truth to victory,’ and so forth, when you want the people to follow you.”
“An ass, a sheep, and a cow,” said Abel. “To what other departments of natural history do the people belong, General?”
“Adders,” returned Belch, sententiously.
“How so?” asked Abel, amused.
“Because they are so cold and ungrateful,” said the General.
“As when, for instance,” returned Abel, “the Honorable Watkins Bodley, having faithfully served his constituency, is turned adrift by—by—the people.”
He looked at Belch and laughed. The fat nose of the General glistened.