“It came to an end after the William Lyon MacKenzie rebellion. MacKenzie, with a bunch of Scotch Grits and devil-dodgers, set out to be the father of a Northern Revolution. The scheme failed after a little bloodshed. Since that time, the descendants of the leaders have used so much ink in trying to show how the rebellion was justified and its results meritorious, that the poor old Family Compact has suffered badly.”
“Poor Family Compact,” murmured Mr. Fraser in mock tones of condolence.
“People who use doubtful means invariably complain that their opponents were the first to be unfair,” continued Mr. Bang, who was quite unruffled. “This is a process much used by the Yankees since their revolution, and it apparently has secured them peace of mind.”
And so banter was indulged in and our supper ended pleasantly. I learned what a devil-dodger is. “There are those who tread the straight and narrow way from love of God; others from fear of the devil,—and these are the devil-dodgers. Scotch Grits are mostly devil-dodgers,” said Mr. Bang.
“It requires the highest type of patriotism to prompt an honest Canadian to devote his life to politics,” so said Uncle.
“That ‘the Government of a people is as good as they deserve’ is an old saying, and Canada is no exception. Our press panders to the rich. Our Governments confer knight-hoods on grafters, financial adventurers, and corruptionists—” this from Mr. Bang.
Uncle chimed in, “Democracy is an experiment to which the regent has yet to be applied.”
“Man is a mean and vicious animal, and the process of ‘trusting the people’ must bring trouble to the world.”—Mr. Bang.
“Virtue is an abnormal development.”—Uncle.
“Society is the folly of the day.”—Mr. Fraser.