"You think, I suppose, that if a war were to come now, you could do proportionally better."
"Think it!" said Obed; "I know it. The American people know it. And they want, above all things, to have a chance to show it. You spoke of that American who was blue-moulded for want of a fight. I said that man was a typical American. Sir, that saying is profoundly true. Sir, the whole American nation is blue-moulded, Sir. It is spilin for want of a fight--a big fight."
"Well, and what do you intend to do about it?"
"Time will show," said Obed, gravely. "Already, any one acquainted with the manners of our people and the conduct of our government will recognize the remarkable fact that our nation is the most wrathy, cantankerous, high-mettled community on this green earth. Why, Sir, there ain't a foreign nation that can keep on friendly terms with us. It ain't ugliness, either--it's only a friendly desire to have a fight with somebody--we only want an excuse to begin. The only trouble is, there ain't a nation that reciprocates our pecooliar national feeling."
"What can you do, then?" asked Windham, who seemed to grow quite amused at this conversation.
"That's a thing I've often puzzled over," said Obed, thoughtfully; "and I can see only one remedy for us."
"And what is that?"
"Well, it's a hard one--but I suppose it's got to come. You see, the only foreign countries that are near enough to us to afford a satisfactory field of operations are Mexico and British America. The first we have already tried. It was poor work, though. Our armies marched through Mexico as though they were going on a picnic. As to British America, there is no chance. The population is too small. No, there is only one way to gratify the national craving for a fight."
"I don't see it."
"Why," said Obed, dryly, "to get up a big fight among ourselves."