“I know of nothing so depressing as this feeling of unconnected individuality, amidst a dense population like this. But, my friend, there is One who never forsakes us either in the throng or the wilderness, whose ear is always open to our petitions, and who has invited us to rely on his goodness and mercy.”
“You hadn’t ought to feel lonely here, Minister,” said Mr. Slick. “It’s a place we have a right to boast of is Liverpool; we built it, and I’ll tell you what it is, to build two such cities as New York and Liverpool in the short time we did, is sunthin’ to brag of. If there had been no New York, there would have been no Liverpool; but if there had been no Liverpool, there would have been a New York though. They couldn’t do nothin’ without us. We had to build them elegant line-packets for ‘em; they couldn’t build one that could sail, and if she sail’d she couldn’t steer, and if she sail’d and steer’d, she upsot; there was always a screw loose somewhere.
“It cost us a great deal too to build them ere great docks. They cover about seventy acres, I reckon. We have to pay heavy port dues to keep ‘em up, and pay interest on capital. The worst of it is, too, while we pay for all this, we hante got the direction of the works.”
“If you have paid for all these things,” said I, “you had better lay claim to Liverpool. Like the disputed territory (to which it now appears, you knew you had no legal or equitable claim), it is probable you will have half of it ceded to you, for the purpose of conciliation. I admire this boast of yours uncommonly. It reminds me of the conversation we had some years ago, about the device on your “naval button,” of the eagle holding an anchor in its claws—that national emblem of ill-directed ambition and vulgar pretension.”
“I thank you for that hint,” said Mr. Slick, “I was in jeest like; but there is more in it, for all that, than you’d think. It ain’t literal fact, but it is figurative truth. But now I’ll shew you sunthin’ in this town, that’s as false as parjury, sunthin that’s a disgrace to this country and an insult to our great nation, and there is no jeest in it nother, but a downright lie; and, since you go for to throw up to me our naval button with its ‘eagle and anchor,’ I’ll point out to you sunthin’ a hundred thousand million times wus. What was the name o’ that English admiral folks made such a touss about; that cripple-gaited, one-eyed, one-armed little naval critter?”
“Do you mean Lord Nelson?”
“I do,” said he, and pointing to his monument, he continued, “There he is as big as life, five feet nothin’, with his shoes on. Now examine that monument, and tell me if the English don’t know how to brag, as well as some other folks, and whether they don’t brag too sumtimes, when they hante got no right to. There is four figures there a representing the four quarters of the globe in chains, and among them America, a crouchin’ down, and a-beggin’ for life, like a mean heathen Ingin. Well, jist do the civil now, and tell me when that little braggin’ feller ever whipped us, will you? Just tell me the day of the year he was ever able to do it, since his mammy cut the apron string and let him run to seek his fortin’. Heavens and airth, we’d a chawed him right up!
“No, there never was an officer among you, that had any thing to brag of about us but one, and he wasn’t a Britisher—he was a despisable Blue-nose colonist boy of Halifax. When his captain was took below wounded, he was leftenant, so he jist ups and takes command o’ the Shannon, and fit like a tiger and took our splendid frigate the Chesapeake, and that was sumthing to brag on. And what did he get for it? Why colony sarce, half-pay, and leave to make room for Englishers to go over his head; and here is a lyin’ false monument, erected to this man that never even see’d one of our national ships, much less smelt thunder and lightning out of one, that English like, has got this for what he didn’t do.
“I am sorry Mr. Lett [Footnote: This was the man that blew up the Brock monument in Canada. He was a Patriot.] is dead to Canada, or I’d give him a hint about this. I’d say, ‘I hope none of our free and enlightened citizens will blow this lyin’, swaggerin’, bullyin’ monument up? I should be sorry for ‘em to take notice of such vulgar insolence as this; for bullies will brag.’ He’d wink and say, ‘I won’t non-concur with you, Mr. Slick. I hope it won’t be blowed up; but wishes like dreams come contrary ways sometimes, and I shouldn’t much wonder if it bragged till it bust some night.’ It would go for it, that’s a fact. For Mr. Lett has a kind of nateral genius for blowin’ up of monuments.
“Now you talk of our Eagle takin’ an anchor in its claws as bad taste. I won’t say it isn’t; but it is a nation sight better nor this. See what the little admiral critter is about! why he is a stampin’ and a jabbin’ of the iron heel of his boot into the lifeless body of a fallen foe! It’s horrid disgustin’, and ain’t overly brave nother; and to make matters wus, as if this warn’t bad enough, them four emblem figures, have great heavy iron chains on ‘em, and a great enormous sneezer of a lion has one part o’ the chain in its mouth, and is a-growlin’ and a-grinnin’ and a-snarling at ‘em like mad, as much as to say, ‘if you dare to move the sixteen hundredth part of an inch, I will fall to and make mincemeat of you, in less than half no time. I don’t think there never was nothin’ so bad as this, ever seen since the days of old daddy Adam down to this present blessed day, I don’t indeed. So don’t come for to go, Squire, to tarnt me with the Eagle and the anchor no more, for I don’t like it a bit; you’d better look to your ‘Nelson monument’ and let us alone. So come now!”