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“I couldn’t help it, if I didn’t. Henrique is a regular little tempest;- his mother and I have given him up, long ago. But, then, that Dodo is a perfect sprite,- no amount of whipping can hurt him.” “And this by way of teaching Henrique the first verse of a republican’s cate- chism, ‘All men are born free and equal!’” “Poh!” said Alfred; “one of Tom Jefferson’s pieces of French sentiment and humbug. It’s perfectly ridiculous to have that going the rounds among us, to this day.” “I think it is,” said St. Clare, significantly. “Because,” said Alfred, “we can see plainly enough that all men are not born free, nor born equal; they are born anything else. For my part, I think half this re- publican talk sheer humbug. It is the educated, the intelligent, the wealthy, the re- fined, who ought to have equal rights, and not the canaille.” “If you can keep the canaille of that opinion,” said Augustine. “They took their turn once, in France.” “Of course, they must be kept down, consistently, steadily, as I should,” said Alfred, setting his foot hard down, as if he were standing on somebody. “It makes a terrible slip when they get up,” said Augustine,- “in St. Domingo, for instance.” |