“It costs near hand to twelve hundred dollars a-year to keep up a carriage here. Now for goodness’ sake jist multiply that everlastin’ string of carriages by three hundred pounds each, and see what’s spent in that way every year, and then multiply that by ten hundred thousand more that’s in other places to England you don’t see, and then tell me if rich people here ain’t as thick as huckleberries.”
“Well, when you’ve done, go to France, to Belgium, and to Prussia, three sizeable places for Europe, and rake and scrape every private carriage they’ve got, and they ain’t no touch to what Ascot can show. Well, when you’ve done your cypherin’, come right back to London, as hard as you can clip from the race-course, and you won’t miss any of ‘em; the town is as full as ever, to your eyes. A knowin’ old coon, bred and born to London, might, but you couldn’t.
“Arter that’s over, go and pitch the whole bilin’ of ‘em into the Thames, hosses, carriages, people, and all; and next day, if it warn’t for the black weepers and long faces of them that’s lost money by it, and the black crape and happy faces of them that’s got money, or titles, or what not by it, you wouldn’t know nothin’ about it. Carriages wouldn’t rise ten cents in the pound in the market. A stranger, like you, if you warn’t told, wouldn’t know nothin’ was the matter above common. There ain’t nothin’ to England shows its wealth like this.
“Says father to me when I came back, ‘Sam,’ sais he, ‘what struck you most?’
“‘Ascot Races,’ sais I.
“‘Jist like you,’ sais he. ‘Hosses and galls is all you think of. Wherever they be, there you are, that’s a fact. You’re a chip of the old block, my boy. There ain’t nothin’ lake ‘em; is there?’
“Well, he was half right, was father. It’s worth seein’ for hosses and galls too; but it’s worth seein’ for its carriage wealth alone. Heavens and airth, what a rich country it must be that has such a show in that line as England. Don’t talk of stock, for it may fail; or silver-smiths’ shops, for you can’t tell what’s plated; or jewels, for they may be paste; or goods, for they may be worth only half nothin’; but talk of the carriages, them’s the witnesses that don’t lie.
“And what do they say? ‘Calcutta keeps me, and China keeps me, and Bot’ney Bay keeps me, and Canada keeps me, and Nova Scotia keeps me, and the whales keep me, and the white bears keep me, and every thing on the airth keeps me, every thing under the airth keeps me. In short, all the world keeps me.’”
“No, not all the world, Sam,” said Mr. Hopewell; “there are some repudiative States that don’t keep me; and if you go to the auction rooms, you’ll see some beautiful carriages for sale, that say, ‘the United States’ Bank used to keep me,’ and some more that say, ‘Nick Biddle put me down.’”
“Minister, I won’t stand that,” said Mr. Slick. “I won’t stay here and hear you belittle Uncle Sam that way for nothin’. He ain’t wuss than John Bull, arter all. Ain’t there no swindle-banks here? Jist tell me that. Don’t our liners fetch over, every trip, fellers that cut and run from England, with their fobs filled with other men’s money? Ain’t there lords in this country that know how to “repudiate” as well as ring-tail-roarers in ourn. So come now, don’t throw stones till you put your window-shutters to, or you may stand a smart chance of gettin’ your own glass broke, that’s a fact.’