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The exciting summer of 1837, with the special election
of a member of congress for the extra session—to which
we returned our long tried and faithful representative Mr.
Middleton Flam, almost without opposition—went by. All
eyes were turned upon the proceedings of congress at that
extra sitting; and a great many speculations were afloat in
Quodlibet, where, I am pained to disclose the fact, very
serious contrariety of opinion began to spring up in reference
to the Sub Treasury. Our state election, for members
of the legislature, was to come on in October, and
a convention, called for the purpose, had nominated Agamemnon
Flag, at the head of the ticket, with Abram Schoolcraft,
the nursery man in Bickerbray, and Curtius Short,
Cheap Store keeper, in Tumbledown, as the Regular New
Light Democratic Quodlibetarian candidates. Unhappily
this nomination gave dissatisfaction to numbers of our friends.
Agamemnon Flag, who was the only stump man on the
ticket, (Schoolcraft and Short having expressly stipulated
that they were not to be called on to speak in the canvass)

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was a young member of the bar, comparatively a stranger
to many in the Borough, (having within the last year removed
from Bickerbray,) and laboring under the infirmity
of short-sightedness wore a delicate pair of gold spectacles.
I have observed that short-sighted persons in general,
are not apt to be popular in a democratic government.

But there was another matter that operated against Agamemnon.
Quodlibet had been made the county seat of
justice by an act of the last legislature, and we were just
finishing a Court House which, in anticipation of this event,
we had commenced a year before. A question arose
amongst the townspeople, whether the Court House square
should be surrounded by a wooden, or by an iron railing.
This question created great agitation. Several whigs of
the Borough made themselves active in the debate, and went
for the iron. The New Light Quods were strong for
wood. Agamemnon Flag, seeing that a great deal of ill
blood was getting up between the parties, made a speech
to a town meeting on this subject, and went in for a compromise—
he was for wood on the two sides and back of
the square, and iron in front. This proposition he advocated
with great earnestness and ability, and finally carried
his point by a close vote. The wooden party said that the
vote was not a fair one, and that they could not regard it as
a legitimate expression of the popular voice, because it was
taken just as a shower of rain was coming up, when many
persons present who had come without umbrellas had given
no heed to the question, and voted as it were in the dark.
However the vote was not recalled and the iron railing is
now in a course of fabrication over at the Hog Back Forge,
which happens unluckily to be owned by Stephen P. Crabstock,
one of the most bull-headed whigs in this county,
the job being given by the commissioners to him, in

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consequence of their being no genuine New Light Democratic
iron works in this part of the country.

When Agamemnon Flag was brought out at the head of
the ticket for the legislature, nothing was said about the
iron railing, and we had good reason to suppose that every
true Quod would support the nomination; which in fact
was made by the direction of our honorable representative
in Congress who had a great liking for Flag, in consequence
of a very beautifully written memoir of Mr. Flam,
which appeared two years ago in the Bickerbray Scrutinizer,
when Flag lived in that town. In point of principle,
Agamemnon was altogether unexceptionable. He was an
out and out Flamite of the first water, and an unadulterated
Quodlibetarian in every sentiment.

Theodore Fog—I regret to be obliged to mention his
name in any terms of disparagement, because he is unquestionably
a man of talents and a true bred New Light, and,
certainly, we owe Theodore a good deal—had been very
sour for some time past. He had never forgotten the making
of Middleton Flam President of the bank. I have in a
former chapter hinted somewhat of Theodore's unfortunate
habits. Dolet mihi,—I grieve to repeat these things. But
the truth must be told. His diurnal aberrations became at
length so conspicuous that, after being twice elected a director
of the bank, his name was struck off the ticket and
Anthony Hardbottle's substituted in his place. Theodore
never had much practice at the Bar, although he considers
himself the founder of that fraternity at Quodlibet, being for
a season the only lawyer in the Borough. That little practice
had now pretty nearly left him; in consequence of
which he thought himself badly used, and therefore entitled
to a support from the public. These feelings operating upon
his mind, induced him, soon after the nomination of

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Agamemnon Flag, to come out in opposition and declare himself
an Independent Candidate.

The Whigs taking advantage of this split in the party,
brought out Andy Grant, son of old Michael of the Hog
Back; a young man of fair character, but wholly and fatally
imbued with those dangerous opinions which have already
brought so many misfortunes upon our country.

This was the state of things at the commencement of the
month of September; and it will be seen in the sequel that
very serious difficulties grew out of this division.

A meeting of the voters of the county which included the
three towns of Quodlibet, Tumbledown and Bickerbray,
was called at the Sycamore Spring upon the Rumblebottom
about five miles below Quodlibet. This meeting was
to be held on the 8th. A reference to these events is
necessary to explain the scene which I am about to present
to my reader.

Jesse Ferret, as my reader knows, had brought himself
into some scandal by his indefinite political sentiments and
that most unquodlibetarian dogma that “a Publican should
have no side.” Now, Mrs. Ferret and her daughter, Susan
Barndollar, were just antipodes to Jesse. Two truer women,
more firm-set in the New Light Democracy, more
constant in opinion, whether in the utterance thereof, or in
its quality, and better able to hold their own, have I never
chanced to meet, than this respectable mother and daughter.
It is common to say women are not allowed a voice in our
government. My faith! these two ladies had a voice in
Quodlibet, allowed or not allowed,—let the theory go as it
may:—and Jesse Ferret knows that full well.

Mrs. Ferret is what we call a fleshy or lusty woman:
she weighed two hundred and twelve, in Neal Hopper's
new one-sided patent scale at the mill. She is amazingly
well padded with fat across the shoulders, and has a

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crawshaped bosom that in some degree encroaches upon her
neck; and she is famous for wearing a large frilled and
quilled cap with many blue ribbons, being a little given to
finery. Although Susan Barndollar was grown up and
married, Mrs. Ferret had a child in the arms at that time;
and Jesse has even boasted, within the last five years, of
running two cradles at one time.

It was on the evening of the 7th of September, the night
before the meeting at the Sycamore Spring, when Mrs.
Ferret had a tea drinking in the back parlor, at which I,
the only one of the masculine, was present as a guest.
Mrs. Younghusband was of the party and Mrs. Snuffers,
with her interesting fat female infant nine months old; the
same dear child whose arrangements to appear in this world
of cares procured me the honor of presiding over the New
Light, on the memorable occasion of Mr. Flam's great
speech at Christmas, whereof I have spoken in a former
chapter: thanks to Mrs. Snuffers for that considerate favor!
This good lady was there; and these two, with the addition
of Miss Hardbottle, elder sister of Barndollar & Hardbottle,
and Mrs. Susan Barndollar who lived at home with her
mother, made up the company.

“There is one thing,” said Mrs. Ferret, as she rocked herself
in a huge hickory arm-chair, which had been built on purpose
for her, “that I do hold in despise; and that is, one of
these here men, who haint got no opinions. Ef you believe me,
Mrs. Snuffers, that man Jesse Ferret—this woman's father,
(pointing to Mrs. Barndollar,) God forgive me that I should
say any think aginst my datur's own lawful flesh and blood!—
but he's actelly afeard to go down to-morrow to the Sycamore
Spring to hear the tongue-lashing which Theodore
Fog, which is a man I always respected—they say he
drinks, but there's many a man which don't drink, has'nt
half his brains—Jesse's actelly afeard to go and hear how

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Theodore will use up Ag Flag and Andy Grant both at the
same time, least they might be for making him take sides,
which he hasn't the spunk to do. My patience! but it would
be nuts to me to hear the speechification!—and, to think of
it—that man hasn't the heart of a goose to go to the meeting!”

“Ah, Mrs. Ferret,” said Mrs. Snuffers, talking as if she
had a cold in the head; her voice being husky, in fact, from
having taken a large pinch of snuff; “them politicks—them
politicks! Poor Mr. Snuffers—dear man: I spose you
know he is President of the New Light; he's losing his
naiteral rest upon account of that split. He put in his wote
in the conwention for Ag, as innocent as a lamb, and here
comes up that obstropolus Iron railing, and smashes all the
New Lights into outer darkness, with diwisions and contentions
and all sorts of infractions. Mr. Snuffers says he
should'nt wonder if that unfortnate step should take the
Hay Scales from him and leave me and this here innocent
darlin babe in a state of destitution. Oh them politicks!”

“Well, let people stand by their colors, says I,” interposed
Mrs. Barndollar tartly, with a sharp shake of her
head; “I go with my ma, although pa is pa. I think people
ought to speak what they please, and mean what they
please; and it's a mean thing not to do so, and that's gospel
truth, or else this is not a free country. Ma is right; and
if Mr. Snuffers is what Mr. Barndollar calls a whole hog,
he'll not mind the people a jot, but go with his party; that's
the law. And I don't agree by no means with ma, in going
for Theodore against the nomination.”

“Susan Barndollar, are you in earnest?” inquired her affectionate
ma. “Who put it into your head to underrate and
strangle down Theodore Fog, the oldest friend we have had
sence we came to Quodlibet? and who brings more custom to
our bar than the whole New Light Club put together. Susan,

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Susan, I hope Jacob haint been putting none of these ungrateful
ideers into your breast. Ef this house of ours, commonly
called and known by the name of The Hero, ought to go
for any human, mortal, individual man, that man is Theodore
Fog. Ef he is a little exintric in regard of his drinking,
it wont be no new think in the legislater ef the tenth
part of what I heerd is true. Ladies—Tea,” said the
dame, as at this time a negro woman entered with a tray
filled with great store of provender—“help yourself Mrs.
Younghusband—take a plate on your knee, and fork up
one of them warfields—and take care of your gown, they're
a dripping with butter. Mr. Secondthoughts, what under
Heaven has become of your perliteness that you can see Mrs.
Younghusband a fishing up that briled dried beef without
her fork no more sticking in it than if it was a live eel in
the gravy!”

“Never mind me, Mrs. Ferret,” replied Mrs. Younghusband,
“and dont be a troublin the schoolmaster on
my account. They do say that there's some persons as
hard to catch and pin down as hung beef crisped and floating
in butter, and as you justly remarked, a while ago, one
of these persons is not a hundred miles off from this house:”
and here this good woman laughed heartily at her own
joke.

“Oh Jesse Ferret, in course!” exclaimed the landlady.

“My pa!” said Mrs. Barndollar, joining in the laugh.

“As Mr. Ferret has'nt got many friends here,” said Miss
Hardbottle, “I'll be one. I think he is quite right, if he has
no opinions, not to express them. Dont you think so, Mr.
Secondthoughts?”

“Madam,” said I in a very grave manner, “if I might be
allowed to express myself freely, I would venture to remark,
that it is very important to the ascendancy of The New
Light Quodlibetarian Democratic party, that there should be

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no strife nor division in our ranks; and, that feeling the importance
of this sentiment, it is one of our fundamental
principles to go with the majority—whenever it can be ascertained.
Now between Agamemnon Flag and Theodore
Fog”—

“Theodore Fog is sich a good creature!” interrupted Mrs.
Ferret—

“Ag is a dear young man,” said Mrs. Barndollar.

“As for that, ladies,” said Miss Hardbottle, “if you speak
of goodness or beauty, Andy Grant can beat either, though
he is a Whig.”

“Hester Hardbottle!” shouted Mrs. Ferret—

“Hester Hardbottle!” shouted Mrs. Snuffers—

“Hester Hardbottle!” shouted Mrs. Younghusband—

“Hester Hardbottle!” shouted Mrs. Barndollar—all four
at once—

“I do think so,” said Miss Hardbottle sharply, “and what
I do think, I say.”

“You have no right to say it, Madam,” said Mrs. Barndollar.

“Free country,” said Miss Hardbottle.

“No such a thing for Whigs,” quickly returned Mrs.
Barndollar—

“Ladies!—Ladies!—Ladies!”—said I, “peace, if you
please:” but there was no peace, for these excellent females
soon got into such a state of confusion in the attack and defence
of Andy Grant, that I believe the tea party would
have broken up in a state of rebellion, if it had not been for
the entrance of Mr. Ferret in the very height of the tumult.
His appearance gave another turn to the conversation, for it
all turned upon him.

“And so you are not going to the Sycamore Spring tomorrow,”
cried one.

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“And I spose you wont vote for Theodore Fog,” said
Number Two.

“Nor for Ag Flag,” said Number Three.

“But you will drop in a sly ticket for Andy Grant, may
be, at last, ef no one should find you out,” said Mrs. Ferret,
who in this series counted Number Four. “Oh Jesse Ferret,
ef you had a drop of blood in you that was'nt milk and
water, you would be ashamed of sich shilly shally conduct,
that even the women makes you a laughing stock!'

“Wife,” said Jesse, taking a fierce stand in self-defence,
“Drop it! If my blood was milk and water, it would be
curds and whey before this time. I tell you again, old
lady, a Publican's got no right to have sentiments. The
party's double splitted, and no man knows which way to
turn himself. There's that cursed Iron Railing; and there's
that infernal Suspension; and there's the Divorce of the Government
from bed and board with the Banks, that every
body's a talking about; and there's Purse and Sword, and
Specie Circlar, and Mint Drops, and the Lord knows what;
that a poor, sinful, infallible tavern keeper doesn't know
who's who, and what's what. I'm sure I cant tell whether
I'm on my head or my heels; and if I was to go down yonder
to the Sycamore Spring and hear all the palavering
there, I should get so flustrated I would'nt know which
eend of me went foremost. So, I tell you I'll stay at home
and stick to my motto:—that's as good as if I swore to it.
Solomon Secondthoughts, aint I right?”

“Jesse,” said I, mildly, “have you any respect for the
opinion of our distinguished representative, my former pupil,
Middleton Flam?”

“Well, I voted for him,” replied Jesse.

“Then,” said I, “I admit there is a great perplexity
about all these public measures and men, just at this time;
and I am willing to allow that the New Light Democracy

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do not as yet exactly understand their own minds; and therefore
it is quite lawful to pause and look about you before
you take your stand. This thing is certain, that the New
Light Democracy will undoubtedly go with the government,
whatever line it chalks out for following the footsteps of its
illustrious predecessor. Whether that line shall lead us
North or South, East or West, my poor skill is not able to
instruct you. Whether we are for the banks or against
them, is yet undecided, since we are pledged at least in
favor of our own. In a Quodlibetarian sense, I do not
scruple to affirm that we are against the banks and for the
divorce; but in a private sense that opinion will require
some reflection. Mr. Flam will be home from congress
before long, and until then we shall suspend our opinion.
We are, at all hazards, real Flam men. Flam—I drop the
mister when I speak of him as a principle—is our polar
star—our cynosure in politics—our Pisgah, which gives us
a view of the Promised Land. As a principle, our New
Light Democracy is all out and out Flam. Flam is our
father, our guide, our Pillar of Cloud. Wait till Middleton
Flam comes home.”

Having thrown out these well-weighed and sententious
remarks, both for the women and for Jesse, I was inwardly
delighted to see how soothing was the effect upon my
auditory; and as it is a precept inculcated by some sage
observer of mankind, I forget his name, to leave your
company when you have made an agreeable impression
upon them, I did not tarry for further converse, but took up
my hat and stick, and bade my worthy friends “good
night.”

Upon my return to my lodgings, I sat down and made
the foregoing narration of what had passed in my presence,
and I have incorporated the same into this history, with no
little mortification; feeling myself compelled thereto by the

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consideration that the scene I have described, being, as it
were, the first fruits of that unhappy dissension which grew
up amongst the New Lights, and a significant commentary
thereon, it may serve in the way of warning to all good
Quodlibetarian Democrats, who may chance to peruse these
pages, against the folly of ever allowing themselves to have
any individual opinions, when the leaders and marshals of
the party shall have taken the trouble off their hands of
thinking and determining for them. And, indeed, the moral
may be carried further. For it is obvious, if Jesse Ferret
had acted in the spirit and the intelligence of a true Quod,
he would have ascertained the majority and gone with it;
instead of which, he entrenched himself behind that fortress
of neutrality, comprehended in the absurd dogma, that a
Publican ought to have no sides. Undoubtedly, the true
precept should be in all cases of public servants, “Take the
upper side.” Thereon chiefly hangs the Quodlibetarian
theory.