“It is not, indeed,” agreed the man, readily. “It would, in fact, be cause for great wonder if the town and its people were not impressed.” He leaned toward the boy in a grave sort of way and continued: “Modern history does not show anything that can compare with the events which have happened of late in these colonies; and those which are on their way to happen will be greater still. We shall show a stubborn and narrow ministry that we are determined to be justly dealt by.”
Nat looked at the speaker with attention.
“Do you know,” said he, “I’m just a little surprised to hear you speak after this fashion?”
“Why?” asked the stranger, and the cold, light-colored eyes peered through their wrinkled lids.
“Because, as our landlady said a short while since, you are an Englishman, or your accent greatly misrepresents you.”
A shade of annoyance crossed the stranger’s face; Nat, ever watchful, saw his hands clinch upon the arm’s of his chair. But this only lasted for a moment; the lean countenance cleared up, the hands relaxed their grip and the man lay back in his chair, smiling amusedly.
“It is an odd thing,” spoke he, “that the fact of my being English has been so noted of late. No sooner do I open my mouth than I am looked at askance; if I utter a sentiment in favor of liberty, I am stared at in amaze; if I condemn tyranny, as every honest man should, my hearers regard me with wonder.”
He paused and watched Nat, the smile of amusement still wrinkling the corners of his mouth. Then he leaned forward, as before, proceeding:
“But I can tell you the reason of this. It is because the country is young. It is inexperienced. It is not yet mature enough to know that a man may be a friend to freedom no matter where he was born. Don’t forget, young gentleman, that true liberty began in England, and that it still has its lovers and upholders there.”
“Why,” said Nat, “I have no doubt but that there is a great deal of truth in what you say.”