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When the crowd had gathered around the stand appropriated
to the President, the nine Vice presidents and the six
secretaries, besides the speakers who were to address the
meeting; and when every officer was in his place, Nicodemus
Handy came forward with his pocket handkerchief in
his hand, wiping from his brow the perspiration, which
naturally breaks out on a man of sensibility and wealth
when called to discharge the honorable and responsible
function of presiding over a vast concourse of freemen. By
way of digression, I would take this occasion to remark
upon the extreme appropriateness of the phrase which is
now universally used in describing meetings of the people,
and which always refers to them as freemen. Ever since
the people have been drilled to walk in the way appointed
for them by the leaders of their respective parties, and are
so liberally told how they must think, speak and vote; and
when no man is allowed to walk out of that path, without
being threatened with condign punishment, it is extremely
proper, in order to avoid odious imputations which

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malevolent observers might cast upon them, on all occasions to
employ the phrase I have alluded to; since, if this were
neglected, these malvolent observers might take it into their
heads to call the people of our free republic Tools, Instruments,
Rank-and-File, and other names significant of a state
of subserviency, which in the eyes of strangers might cast
discredit on our free institutions: even the officers of our
government, might be branded with the name of hirelings
and servants, and an opinion might thus be fostered that,
instead of being the freest nation upon earth, we were a set
of slaves governed by a set of hired servants—a most unwarrantable,
unjust and derogatory conclusion. For this
reason, I am particular in the language above employed,
and I think that every genuine Quod will see the value
and the force of my vindication and use of this phrase.

Mr. Handy rose to his feet, wiped his brow, and made a
graceful obedience to the assembled body of freemen.

“Gentlemen,” said he, with a most laudable diffidence,
in a voice which not more than fifteen persons, exclusive of
the nine Vices and six secretaries, could hear; “Sensible of
the great honor—endeavor to discharge with fidelity—
obvious incapacity—but exceedingly flattered by the testimony
of your confidence;” then wiping his brow, still more
vehemently, with his cambric handkerchief rolled up like a
snow-ball, he continued; “It falls to my lot to introduce to
you our distinguished friends, Agamemnon Flag, Andrew
Grant and Theodore Fog, Esquires, men of whom any land
may be proud—they will speak for themselves. With such
men to choose from, our country cannot fail to rise up to the
very midnight of prosperity, honor and renown. Thanks
for your attention—rely upon your indulgence—Mr. Grant
will lead off.”

“Three cheers for Nicodemus Handy!” cried out several
Quods, as soon as our distinguished townsman took his

[figure description] Page 120.[end figure description]

seat; and, thereupon, about twenty heads were uncovered,
and the twenty throats appurtenant to the same, gave the
three rounds called for.

Andrew Grant now came forward, and made a discourse
of about an hour's length. It was in the usual style of the
Whigs, and began with an attempt to raise an impression
that the country, notwithstanding General Jackson's express
declaration to the contrary, given to the nation under the
solemn sanction of a presidental message, and notwithstanding
his successor's certificate to the same effect, was in a
state of difficulty and distress. This young man, not more
than twenty-five years of age, living in comparative obscurity,
had the hardihood, in the face of a large and respectable
body of freemen, to contradict the word of two Presidents
of the United States! Then, after coloring this picture of
adversity with all imaginable hues of shade, he did not
scruple to affirm that the whole of these fancied embarrassments
were brought on by the folly, as he termed it, of our
rulers—charged the great Democratic majority of the nation
with having carried bad measures through congress—said
the Whigs had warned us of the results of these measures—
and even went to the point of asserting that the suspension
of the banks, was the consequence of the acts of the party
in power. To make out this absurd proposition, he read
extracts from the speeches of Whig members, against the
Removal of the Deposites, to show what he called their prophecies
of disaster to the people; then actually affirmed, that
the experiment of General Jackson upon the Currency had
failed, and that all the Whig predictions had come true; and
after sundry excursions into the Hard Money and State Bank
systems of the administration, finally wound up his remarks
by a very fatiguing enumeration of the General's pledges to
the people before his election, and his changes of opinion
upon these subjects afterwards;—in regard to which he

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produced and read certain long-winded documents from the President
and secretaries, to the great annoyance of our Quods,
who, in fact, became so tired of this impertinent matter, that
not more than half a dozen of them remained within hearing
of the speaker, the great bulk of them having gone over to
the spring to refresh themselves in a more agreeable manner.
Eliphalet Fox very aptly remarked, immediately after this
long prosing was brought to an end, that the speech was a
perfect failure: he had heard Andy Grant spoken of as a
young man of talents, but he turns out to be a miserable
take-in. “Nothing in him, sir,” said Eliphalet, in his terse
way, “Nothing in him, sir.”

The Whigs, as is usual with them, affected to be hugely
delighted. Augustus Postlethwaite Tompkinson took pencil
notes and announced his purpose, to publish the speech
entire. “A great speech that,” said he to Mr. Snuffers—
“extraordinary young man!—great speech.”

Mr. Handy now lost no time in presenting Agamemnon
Flag, who came forward with a confident, self-possessed air
smiling through his gold spectacles and apparently very
much delighted at the opportunity of presenting himself before
his fellow citizens.

“I see before me”—said he in a clear, fine-toned voice,
and with an affable manner, “a vast concourse”—

“Put on your hat,” cried out three or four from the
crowd, upon observing that a sun-beam had straggled through
the foliage and lit up Agamemnon's yellow, curly locks
likening them to golden wire.

“Thank you my friends,” said the orator, stepping one pace
to the right and thus bringing himself into the shade, “in the
presence of the sovereign people, I always stand uncovered,
regardless of the exposure of my person.”

This happy sally brought forth a long and loud clapping
of hands from the great multitude of Quods, who, the

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moment Andy Grant had finished speaking, had crowded
back to the stand.

“Take off your goold specs, Ag; let's see your dimmycratic
phiz out and out!”—said Flan Sucker at the top of his
voice, from the outskirts of the assemblage.

A loud laugh that shook full one hundred diaphragms,
followed this demand, and Agamemnon good naturedly took
off his glasses.

“Any thing to oblige you, gentlemen”—said he—“but as
I am very short-sighted, I deprive myself of the pleasure
of a better view of my worthy fellow citizens.”—

“Put on your specs, Ag,” said Nim Porter—“never mind
Flan Sucker!”

“Put on your specs!” cried out the whole of the convention
who had nominated the ticket, backed by a number
of their friends.”

“D—n his eyes,” said Cale Goodfellow turning to his
Tumbledownians who were all friends of Fog, and of
course opposed to the nomination. “Let's have a representative
who can see what he is about—none of your goold
daylights!”

“Specs or no specs, go it!—Yip!—No?—You don't!”
shouted Flan Sucker, with a voice that rang like a trumpet.

“Or—der,—Or—der,” said Mr. Handy, rising from his
seat and coming forward beside the speaker, and waving his
hand to the crowd, greatly concerned to see these manifestations
of dissension in the ranks of the party. “Gentlemen,
it is but fair that every man should be heard, and the
chair takes occasion to say, that it is mortified at these interruptions.
If the gentlemen opposed to the nomination—
the chair alludes to those who have unfortunately allowed
themselves to be influenced by the iron railing, a subject
which has nothing upon earth to do with the pending election—
if these gentlemen are not disposed to give Mr.

[figure description] Page 123.[end figure description]

Agamemnon Flag an opportunity of delivering himself, the chair
would invite such persons to reflect upon the obvious impropriety
of such a course. The chair is persuaded that
this disturbance results from mere want of reflection, and
hopes it shall not be required again to remind gentlemen of
the courtesy due to Mr. Flag.”

As Virgil describes in that notable passage, the subduing
of the rage of popular commotion by æneas, and likens it
to the mandate of Neptune quelling the waves of old ocean,
so fell Mr. Handy's timely reproof upon the anti-iron-railings,
and, in a moment, all was still. Agamemnon then
began again in his original track.

“I see before me a vast concourse of free citizens—the
solid, substantial, durable, permanent, everlasting pillars of
free government. The honest, upright, pure, hard-handed,
horny-fisted, Democratic yeomanry of the country are here—
not the flesh and blood of the country, for that is the
pampered aristocracy—but the bone and sinew surround me.
It rejoices my eyes to behold these honest, sturdy, independent,
intelligent, invincible tillers of the soil—these brawny,
unconquerable, liberty-loving working-men—I say, sir, I
delight to look upon them; my feeble vision, sir —”

“Put on your specs, Ag!” shouted Ben Inky and Flan
Sucker again, at the same instant;—and the cry was echoed
from various quarters.

Some moments of disorder again prevailed. which required
the second interposition of Mr. Handy, who, in the
most spirited manner, proclaimed his positive determination
to resign, unless the order of the meeting could be preserved.
“I will never consent,” said he with a most landable
energy, “to hold any post, executive or representative,
for one moment after I shall have discovered that I do not
possess the confidence of the people; the chair must feel

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itself compelled, by every sentiment which, as a friend of
the New Light Democracy, it holds dear, to resign the moment
it finds that it has fallen into a minority.” Then folowed
these remarkable words:—“Sustain me, Quodlibetarians,
or let me go!”

For full five minutes after this, the uproar was tremendous.
The Iron Railings and Anti-Iron Railings almost
came to blows. The Tumbledownians and Bickerbrayians
took their appropriate sides in the contest, and, for a space,
nothing was heard but shouts of Fog!—Flag!—Fog!—Flag!
over the whole field. When both parties had bawled themselves
perfectly hoarse, and for mere want of wind ceased
the clamor, Theodore Fog mounted the hustings, and made
a special request of his friends to keep the peace and hear
Mr. Flag to an end. He put this request upon the ground
of a personal favor to himself, and promised them that, at
the proper time, they should hear his sentiments very fully
upon all the agitating questions of the day.

This appeal was conclusive, and Mr. Flag once more
presented himself. But the interruptions he had suffered
seemed most unhappily to have thrown him entirely out of
gear; and becoming very much embarrassed, he struggled
for some moments to regain his self-possession, as I
thought, without success—although Fox thought otherwise,—
and, after less than half an hour's speaking, sat down, rather
crest-fallen and mortified.

I may unwittingly do Mr. Flag injustice in this remark;
for, in truth, my mind was greatly occupied with the tumult,
and I confess I was, therefore, not a very attentive listener.
Fox, on the contrary, was minutely observant of the speech,
and did not scruple to pronounce it a masterly effort of eloquence,
calculated to place Mr. Flag beside the first statesmen
of our country. This was his opinion at the time, and

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was even more warmly and eulogistically expressed subsequently,
in The Whole Hog, where the speech appeared in
nine closely printed columns on the following Saturday.

Theodore Fog was always a great favorite at our public
meetings, and the moment now approached when the field
was to be surrendered to him. The New Lights, including
the members of the nominating convention and the friends
of the Iron Railing Compromise, backed by Virgil Philpot
of the Scrutiniser, and a large force of Bickerbrayians, were
determined that Agamemnon Flag should not want a very
decisive token of applause; and they accordingly called out
for “nine cheers for the regular candidate!” Responsive
to this call, their whole party lustily set about the work;
and, for some minutes after the conclusion of Agamemnon's
speech, the air resounded with huzzas for “Flag and the
Constitution,” “New Light and Regular Nomination.”
This was answered by a round for “Fog and Reform!”
“Retrenchment and no Iron Railing!” and Fog, in the
midst of this acclamation, appearing on the speaker's stand,
all cries were lost in the most violent clapping of hands.

Theodore Fog's figure is above six feet, lean and bony,
and with a stoop which inclines a little to the right, so as
to bring his left shoulder nearer to the ear than its opposite.
His arms are unusually long, his head small, his face
strongly furrowed with deep lines, his eyes of a greenish
lustre, his nose decidedly of the pug species, his mouth
large, his complexion of that sallow, drum-head parchment
hue that equally defies the war of the elements, and the
ravages of alcohol. Although short of fifty years of age
his hair is iron grey and spreads in a thick mat over his
whole cranium. At no time of life has he been careful of
dress, but now has declined into an extreme of negligence
in this particular. On the present occasion, he wore a
striped gingham coat, rather short in the sleeves, and

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crossbarred pantaloons; his shirt collar was turned down over a
narrow, horsehair stock; and a broad black ribbon guard
crossed his breast and terminated in the right pocket of a
black bombazet waistcoat, where it was plainly to be seen
from the external impression, lodged a large watch. He
presented himself to the multitude, holding in his hand a
rather shabby straw hat, which he, nevertheless, flourished
with the air and grace of one who had known better days
than his habiliments seemed to denote.

He stood for some time bowing and waving his hat in
return for the clamorous approbation with which he was
greeted; and when, at length, silence was restored, he began
his speech.

“Countrymen and Friends: you of Quodlibet, Bickerbray,
Tumbledown and the adjacent parts, hear me! I am an old,
tried and trusty, unflinching and unterrified Quodlibetarian,
New Light Democrat—Flan Sucker, bring us a tumbler of
water—tangle it, Flan—no hypocrisy in me, gentlemen, I
go for the ardent. You all know I am, and was from the
first, opposed to the iron railing—(here arose a cheer from
the Anties)—but I don't come to talk to you about that.
You know, moreover, that I am an anti-nomination man—
I'm out on independent grounds—every man for himself, as
the jackass said to the chickens—(a loud laugh). I want
to say a word about Agamemnon Flag—commonly called
Ag. Flag. Who's he? Look at them gold spectacles and
you will see what he is at once. When the plastic hand of
Dame Nature set about the fabrication of that masterpiece
of human mechanism, a genuine, out-and-out thoroughstitched
New Light Democrat, she never thought of sticking
upon him a nose to be ridden by two gold rings hung over
it like a pair of saddlebags—(loud laughter.) We have
other uses for our gold—we want it for mint drops—old
Tom Benton's mint drops—to be run up into them, to give

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the honest, poor man something better, when his week's
work is done, than Copperplate Bank rags, signed Nicodemus
Handy—(loud shouts and cheers from Flan Sucker's
squad and the Tumbledowns; and groans and hisses from
the Convention men and Bickerbrays.) Friends, I tell you,
our party is split; emphatically split. I have seen this
coming for some time. We have three sets of New Lights
amongst us, and it is time we should know it. There are
THE Mandarins, our big bugs, and I could name them to
you. You will find them on Copperplate Ridge—(`Bah,
Bah!' from the New Light Club—`Go it The! go it, old
fellow!' from the Anties.) You will find them at Popular
Flats—(`That won't do!' cried fifty voices—`three cheers
for the Hon. Middleton Flam!'—loud cheering for Flam—
`Walk into them, Fog!' from the Anties—great laughter
and rubbing of hands amongst the Whigs.) You will find
them in the Forwarding and Commission Line—(great uproar
on all sides.) After the Mandarins, come THE Middlings,
and after the Middlings, THE True Grits—the
hearty, whole-souled, no mistake Quods. I'm a True
Grit!—(great applause.) We are nature's noblemen—give
me that water, Flan.—I call myself one of the Royal Family
of the Sovereign People—(renewed laughter and applause.)
I am no kid-glove-Mandarin-Democrat—I am no milk-and-water,
flesh-and-fowl, half-hawk-half-buzzard-Middling-
Democrat—I am, to all intents and purposes, toties quoties
in puris naturalibus, a True Grit, a whole True Grit,
and nothing but a True Grit.—(Here Theodore was
obliged to pause a full minute on account of the cheering.)

“Now this brings me,” he continued after drinking off
the potation which Flan Sucker had assiduously placed upon
the stand for his use, “to Andy Grant. Andy Grant has
told you a great deal about General Jackson's pledges, and
his changes and what not. Well, sirs, he did change—

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what of it? Is Democracy like the laws of the Medes and
Persians? Is that great sublime truth which vivifies the
patriot's heart, resuscitates his ambition and sparkles in the
human breast, like a stone in the bottom of a well for toads
to sit on? or is it the divine rainbow spanning the earth
with its arch, and changing with the sun, now in the East,
now in the West? Is it a post set up in a stream for the
liquid element of human policy forever to roll by and leave
behind? or is it the mighty mass of steam power that not
only floats upon that element, but flies onward across the
great ocean of mortal things forever changing in its career?
Is not democracy itself the march of intellect? and does not
marching consist in change of place?—I hear you all answer,
with one accord, Aye, aye, aye!—(Taking the word
from the orator, there was a loud affirmative response to
these questions.)

“Well then, Jackson did change. He was for the single
term—he was against it: I confess the fact. He was for
the Protective system—he was against it: I agree to it.
He was for a National Bank—he was against it: what of
that? He was for the distribution of the surplus, and again
he was against it: I know it. He was for Internal Improvements;—
he changed his mind—he was against them.
Then again, sirs, he was against the interference of officers
in the elections;—he was sorry for it, and took the other
tack. He was against the appointment of members of
congress—in theory;—in practice he was for it. He was
against this Sub Treasury—and perhaps he is now for it.
It is all true, as Andy Grant has told you:—it is in the documents,
I don't deny it. Sirs, it is the glory of his character
that he has been for and against every thing;—and as Mr.
Van Buren promises to follow in his footsteps, he, of course,
will be for and against every thing—I know him. He
would not be a genuine New Light, if he were not. We

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are all, (and here Fog raised his voice to the highest key,
and struck the board sharply with his hand) FOR and AGAINST
every thing! How else can we be with the majority?
What is the New Light, Quodlibetarian Democracy, but a
strict conformity to the will of the majority? Against that
and that only we never go!—(tremendous applause.) As
Levi Beardsly said, Perish Commerce, Perish Credit!—and
I say, Perish Currency, Banks, Sub Treasury, Constitution,
Law, Benton, Amos, Van—I had almost said perish Old
Hickory—but always go with the MAJORITY!”

After this burst, which may be said to be truly eloquent,
Theodore made a very happy hit in touching upon the natural
hostility between the rich and the poor, showing, with
great point of remark, how impossible it was for these two
classes to have any Christian feelings towards each other;
and arguing from that the great New Light Democratic principle,
that in every department of the government any man
who holds property ought to be deprived of all influence,
and that it was the poor man's right to legislate away the
rich man's possessions. “Do we not know,” said he,
“that in every community the majority are poor? that there
are two men without property for every one man with it?
Of course then, it follows logically, that, as two heads are
better than one, the sole right, as well as the sole power of
legislation is in the poor; and that they may make laws for
the government of the rich, but the rich cannot make laws
for the government of the poor. Besides, who would be
the most impartial in such a matter, the man legislating for
his own property, or the man legislating for his neighbor's?
This requires no reply.”

Upon the subject of the sub treasury, Fog avowed boldly
his non-commitalism. “I am not sure, at this moment,”
said he, “how the land lies. I wait to ascertain the sentiment
of the majority, which, without taking sides, I rather

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incline to think is against the measure. I judge from the
vote of the New Lights two years ago—although, I confess,
that two years are a long period for a New Light to look
back, and that it is rather over the usual time in which custom
requires we should change. I shall wait for events.”

There were other subjects embraced in this speech, upon
which my memoranda are imperfect; but there was one
part of it, towards the conclusion, which was very pathetic.

The orator turned to those strangers amongst us who had
come over from the Bickerbray and Meltpenny Rail Road.
“Gentlemen,” said he, “you stand in a peculiarly interesting
relation to the New Lights. You are strangers, and,
as the poet says,


`Stranger is a sacred name.'
Therefore, it is our wish to take you in. You have not
been over sixty days in our state: you are separated many
of you, from your sweethearts—some of you from your
wives—all of you from your homes:—wife—sweetheart—
home! Affecting words!

Here Theodore took up his red pocket handkerchief
which was already well saturated with the sweat of his
brow, and feelingly wiped his eyes for some moments,
manifestly overcome by his emotions. At length he proceeded:

“Do not despond, gentlemen—do not despair. The
New Lights are your friends, and not only shall you find
wife, sweetheart, home—aye and children, in Quodlibet,
but if you are here next month, we will see if some of you
are not entitled to a vote—that's all.—I have no doubt a

[figure description] Page 131.[end figure description]

large portion of your respectable body are better voters
than you think you are. And at all events, if you are not,
it becomes us as a Christian people to extend to you that
privilege. I go for the repeal of all laws which tyrannically
require a year's residence in the state, before a stranger
is allowed to vote.”

“Hurrah for Fog—hurrah for Fog!” burst forth in loud
chorus from the new comers.

“But,” said Theodore in continuation, “as I scorn concealment,
I must be frank with you. The stranger should
be grateful to his friends; and I, therefore, for one, never
can consent to extend the invaluable privilege of suffrage to
an unworthy man. He must be a New Light, an ardent,
unblenching Quodlibetarian Democrat, ready to go in whatever
way we who take the trouble to do his thinking for
him, require;—it is but reasonable. We think, study, burn
the midnight lamp, and toil, when he sleeps, and all for the
good of the man who has no time to do these things for
himself—what is his duty in return? Why, to stand by us
who make these sacrifices for his welfare—clearly—undoubtedly—
incontestably.”

“Hurra for Fog!” again rose in hoarse reduplications on
the air.

“And now, fellow countrymen, one and all—men of
Quodlibet, men of Bickerbray—and especially men of Old
Tumbledown, long my home, and never absent from my
heart—I have exposed to you frankly, freely, unhesitatingly
my principles and professions.—You see me as I am—naked,
guileless and robed in the simplicity of my nature.—
Flan, another glass of that stuff, my boy. I do not imitate
my friend Andy Grant—for he is my friend—d—n it, we
can differ in politics and break no scores!—I do not, like
him and the Whigs, entertain you with frothy declamation,
appealing to your passions or your prejudices—I scorn such

[figure description] Page 132.[end figure description]

stratagems.—No, I address myself solely and severely,
sternly without a flower, prosaically, without a figure,
soberly, without a flight, to your cool, temperate and unseduced
capacity of logical deduction. Yes, gentlemen, I,
a poor man, do battle against the hosts of the rich. I, the
friend of honest labor, struggle against the huge monopoly
of hoarded wealth, hoarded by grinding the faces of our
sterling but destitute laboring men—alone, I strive against
these banded powers—will you desert me in the strife?”

“Never!” cried Flan Sucker, Ben Inky, and six more
of Fog's principal men—“Never, never!”

“Then I am content. Come weal, come woe, here is a
heart that will never—or rather, gentlemen, let me say in
the words of the Poet—(it now became quite obvious that
Theodore was beginning to be very seriously affected by
the frequent refreshment which Flan Sucker had administerd
during his speech).

“In conclusion, all I have to say is this—We are about to
part.—When you go to your homes, and with hearts enraptured
by all a father's and a husband's failings—feelings—
you take your seats beside the old family fire sides, and
with the partners of your bosoms getting supper, and your
interesting progeny clustering on your knees,—in the midst
of all these blessings pause to ask yourselves, what are
they? Your hearts will answer, they are our Country!
How then, you will inquire, is that country to be preserved,
as a rich inheritance to these cherubs?—who by this time
have climbed as high as your waistcoat pockets, into which
they have, with the natural instinct of young New Lights,
thrust their little fingers—the response will be ready—Go
to the polls in October—go, determined to sustain the

[figure description] Page 133.[end figure description]

everlasting principles of the New Light, Quodlibetarian, democracy—
go, with a firm resolve to support no Mandarin, no
Middling, but to sustain an unudulterated True Grit:—go,
to vote for Theodore Fog, and your country shall be forever,
great, prosperous and happy.”

A wave of the hand and a bow showed that Theodore had
uttered his last words—upon which several rounds of applause,
resembling the simultaneous clapping of wings and
crowing of an acre of cocks, more than any thing else I can
imagine, shook the firmament, and, as the old song has it,
“made the welkin roar.” A party of Tumbledownians instigated
by Cale Goodfellow—(a wag who follows sporting,
and keeps a Bank—I mean a Faro Bank—at Tumbledown,
a most special friend of Theodore's)—rushed up to the
platform and seizing the orator in their arms, bore him off
in triumph to the Spring, where they fell to celebrating
their victory, in advance of the election, over a fresh supply
of spirits produced by Cale Goodfellow for the occasion.
The result was that Theodore was obliged to be taken home
to Quodlibet in a condition, which Mr. Handy, who is
President of the Temperance Society, pronounced to be
perfectly shocking.

Some speaking took place after this by several volunteers;
but from the agitated condition of the assemblage, and
the prevalence of uproar, nothing worthy of notice transpired,
and by sundown nearly all who could get away had
retired.

Quipes had been an attentive observer of the earlier scenes
of the day, and as he had his drawing book with him, we
had reason to expect some spirited sketches of the crowd;
but the poor fellow, being fatigued and thirsty and of a singularly
weak head, was overtaken by his drought and was
laid away in the afternoon in Abel Brawn's wagon, in which

[figure description] Page 134.[end figure description]

he was brought to Quodlibet, Neal Hopper undertaking to
ride his horse back to the Borough.

The result of this day's proceedings was unfavorable to
the regular nomination, and highly auspicious to Theodore
Fog. It was very evident that The Split was going to
do us a great deal of harm, and this gave much uneasinesss to
the Club. The Whigs seemed to consider it a good omen
and old Mr. Grant and his party left the field in high spirits.

p239-140

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