“All very right, gentlemen—you do not bray, however.”
“I will not answer for that,” put in the captain, sending his leg forwards in a straight line, in a way to raise an outcry in Bob, that almost upset the Leaplower’s proposition.
“At all events, gentlemen,” he observed, “there is a test that will put the matter at rest, at once.”
He then desired us, in turn, to pronounce the word “our”—“OUR liberties”—“OUR country”—“OUR firesides”—“OUR altars,” Whoever expressed a wish to be naturalized, and could use this word in the proper manner, and in the proper place, was entitled to be a citizen. We all did very well but the second mate, who, being a Herefordshire man, could not, for the life of him, get any nearer to the Doric, in the latter shibboleth, than “our halters.” Now, it would seem that, in carrying out a great philanthropic principle in Leaplow, halters had been proscribed; for, whenever a rogue did anything amiss, it had been discovered that, instead of punishing him for the offence, the true way to remedy the evil was to punish the society against which he had offended. By this ingenious turn, society was naturally made to look out sharp how it permitted any one to offend it. This excellent idea is like that of certain Dutchmen, who, when they cut themselves with an ax, always apply salve and lint to the cruel steel, and leave the wound to heal as fast as possible.
To return to our examination: we all passed but the second mate, who hung in his halter, and was pronounced to be incorrigible. Certificates of naturalization were delivered on the spot, the fees were paid, and the schooner left us.
That night it blew a gale, and we had no more visitors until the following morning. As the sun rose, however, we fell in with three schooners, under the Leaplow flag, all of which seemed bound on errands of life or death. The first that reached us sent a boat on board, and a committee of six bob-upon-bobs hurried up our sides, and lost no time in introducing themselves. I shall give their own account of their business and characters.
It would seem that they were what is called a “nominating committee” of the Horizontals, for the City of Bivouac, the port to which we were bound, where an election was about to take place for members of the great National Council. Bivouac was entitled to send seven members; and having nominated themselves, the committee were now in quest of a seventh candidate to fill the vacancy. In order to secure the naturalized interests, it had been determined to select as new a comer as possible. This would also be maintaining the principle of liberality, in the abstract. For this reason they had been cruising for a week, as near as the law would allow to the Leaphigh boundaries, and they were now ready to take any one who would serve.
To this proposition I again objected the difference of species. Here they all fairly laughed in my face, Brigadier Downright included, giving me very distinctly to understand that they thought I had very contracted notions on matters and things, to suppose so trifling an obstacle could disturb the harmony and unity of a Horizontal vote. They went for a principle, and the devil himself could not make them swerve from the pursuit of so sacred an object.
I then candidly admitted that nature had not fitted me, as admirably as it had fitted my friend the judge, for the throwing of summersets; and I feared that when the order was given “to go to the right about,” I might be found no better than a bungler. This staggered them a little; and I perceived that they looked at each other in doubt.
“But you can, at least, turn round suddenly, at need?” one of them asked, after a pause.