"Yes, but what is his reason?"
"He claims the affairs of a republic will be best administered when the officers hold the same political sentiments as their President."
"That may be, but if we invest such power in our President we might as well not have fought for our liberties at all. Our fathers set us free and now, by Gad, this man wants to make us all slaves again."
"That'll do, Jervais, we've heard enough of your theories for awhile. Let this gentleman continue. What is this news about the Bank of the United States, Mr. Everett?"
Everett was sitting at the table with his newly made friends—old friends now, since two hours had already passed in answering their insatiable store of questions. They were thirsty for news, these men who were eight weeks' travel from the seat of government in a place where incidents happening two months before, were read about and discussed as if just taking place. It was easy enough for Everett to interest them, for one who had just visited Washington and listened to the debates of the eloquent Colonel Hayne with Daniel Webster, the rising young orator from Massachusetts, was to them a man to be respected and listened to. The National Intelligencer lay on the table before them, neglected and unread, even though it had come on that day's boat, for these events of their own country, narrated by a young man whose flushed face and glowing eyes spoke so eloquently a deep interest and grasp of his subject, had an added significance to the group of men about him. His statements were interrupted by exclamations, more often oaths, and once in a heated argument that took place between two of the listeners as to the claims of the Whigs and the Democrats, the whole crowd was compelled to separate the combatants and enforce silence.
Everett studied the faces of his companions as they leaned on the table and listened to him. He found in them something he had never seen in the friends of his youth, in the constrained countenances of the more civilized New Englanders. Here were quick candour and unconsidered opinions, condemnation and praise in the same breath, sudden resentment of some statement as if it were a personal insult to differ from another's opinion, and in all of them a certain artlessness, the fresh vigour and enthusiasm of a community that was still young and still recklessly successful. In these men the young stranger found a fascination that charmed him, he felt his repressed sympathy surge within him and rush out to meet the cordiality of these new friends. He could call them his friends already, he felt sure, for in their attitude of attention and interest he intuitively felt that they liked him. He saw it in the whimsical smile of the lanky Tennessean who with his chimney pot hat set at a rakish angle and his linsey waistcoat unbuttoned under the stress of the moment, watched him with eyes that were keenly kind; it was in the sparkling eyes of the dark little Creole, who met each description of Washington with praises of New Orleans and La Belle Teche. He saw it in the intense interest of two members of the Legislature, and in the land agent, and even in the critical smile of handsome debonnaire Lemuel Jervais, the Beau of the town, the wealthiest of all the young "bloods," the most promising lawyer admitted to the bar that year—although in his nonchalant indifference Everett saw a certain envy that was flattering.
"About the United States Bank charter," Everett continued, in answer to the last question, "they say Mr. Jackson claims it is unconstitutional and inexpedient. He recommends that the old charter be allowed to expire by its own limitation."
"And when will that be?"
"In '36. It is whispered that he hopes to distribute the surplus which has accumulated among State banks."
"He can't do it, I'm sure. There is no warrant of law for such an act."