“‘Every thing,’ says I, ‘every thing, my brethren; one name belongs to a Christian, and the other don’t; that’s the difference. I’d die before I surrendered my name; for in surrenderin’ that, I surrender my principles.’”
“Exactly,” said Mr. Slick, “that’s what Brother Eldad used to say. ‘Sam,’ said he, ‘a man with an alias is the worst character in the world; for takin’ a new name, shows he is ashamed of his old one; and havin’ an old one, shows his new one is a cheat.’”
“No,” said Mr. Hopewell, “I don’t like that word Consarvative. Them folks may be good kind of people, and I guess they be, seein’ that the Tories support ‘em, which is the best thing I see about them; but I don’t like changin’ a name.”
“Well, I don’t know,” said Mr. Slick, “p’raps their old name was so infarnal dry rotted, they wanted to change it for a sound new one. You recollect when that super-superior villain, Expected Thorne, brought an action of defamation agin’ me, to Slickville, for takin’ away his character, about stealing the watch to Nova Scotia; well, I jist pleaded my own case, and I ups and sais, ‘Gentlemen of the Jury,’ sais I, “Expected’s character, every soul knows, is about the wust in all Slickville. If I have taken it away, I have done him a great sarvice, for he has a smart chance of gettin’ a better one; and if he don’t find a swap to his mind, why no character is better nor a bad one.’
“Well, the old judge and the whole court larfed right out like any thin’; and the jury, without stirrin’ from the box, returned a vardict for the defendant. P’raps now, that mought be the case with the Tories.”
“The difference,” said Mr. Hopewell, is jist this:—your friend, Mr. Expected Thorne, had a name he had ought to have been ashamed of, and the Tories one that the whole nation had very great reason to be proud of. There is some little difference, you must admit. My English politics, (mind you, I say English, for they hare no reference to America,) are Tory, and I don’t want to go to Sir Robert Peel, or Lord John Russell either.”
“As for Johnny Russell,” said Mr. Slick, “he is a clever little chap that; he—”
“Don’t call him Johnny Russell,” said Mr. Hopewell, “or a little chap, or such flippant names, I don’t like to hear you talk that way. It neither becomes you as a Christian nor a gentleman. St. Luke and St. Paul, when addressing people of rank, use the word ‘[Greek text]’ which, as nearly as possible, answers to the title of ‘your Excellency.’ Honour, we are told, should be given to those to whom honour is due; and if we had no such authority on the subject, the omission of titles, where they are usual and legal, is, to say the least of it, a vulgar familiarity, ill becoming an Attache of our embassy. But as I was saying, I do not require to go to either of those statesmen to be instructed in my politics. I take mine where I take my religion, from the Bible. ‘Fear God, honour the King, and meddle not with those that are given to change.’”
“Oh, Minister,” said Mr. Slick, “you mis’t a figur at our glorious Revolution, you had ought to have held on to the British; they would have made a bishop of you, and shoved you into the House of Lords, black apron, lawn sleeves, shovel hat and all, as sure as rates. ‘The right reverend, the Lord Bishop of Slickville:’ wouldn’t it look well on the back of a letter, eh? or your signature to one sent to me, signed ‘Joshua Slickville.’ It sounds better, that, than ‘Old Minister,’ don’t it?”
“Oh, if you go for to talk that way, Sam, I am done; but I will shew you that the Tories are the men to govern this great nation. A Tory I may say ‘noscitur a sociis.’”