A Dream of Empire | Page 3

strides in the
direction of the white house with green shutters, talking continually,
more to himself than to the perplexed negro who followed at his heels.
"Wonder how things are growing in the front yard? By gum! that's a
fine Italian poplar! Guess the old Coot's at home. Maybe that youngster
is one of the little Bladderhatchets! Say, sonny, come this way."
The sentence was addressed to a lad, who, bounding from the portico,
ran nimbly toward the intruder. The boy was prettily attired in a
military costume, and wore a toy sword at his side and a gay feather in
his cap. He was followed by a brother smaller and much less jaunty.
"What might your name be, now, bub? By crackey, you've come out in
full blossom, haven't you, like a red-bud bush? What do you say your
name is?"

"Dominick."
"Dominick, hey? I've seen many a young dominick rooster, but I never
saw one with finer feathers than yours. Suppose you flap your wings,
and crow for us, like a fighting cockerel."
"I'll not crow; I'll stick my sword through you!"
"Jerusalem artichokes! He wants to kill me with his tin sword!
Dominick, I give in. If your pappy is about the house, tell him to come
out; a gentleman wants to ask him something."
Before a summons could be served on Mr. Harman Blennerhassett, that
person appeared emerging from a wing of the long porch. Being
extremely near-sighted, he could not distinctly see the man who
awaited him until the distance between the two was diminished to a few
steps. The uninvited guest without ceremony opened conversation.
"How d'ye do? I am Mr. Byle--B-y-l-e--Plutarch Byle. Of course
everybody knows you by reputation, Mr. Bladderhatchet--"
"Blennerhassett."
"It's a prodigious long name, ain't it? Too long, in my opinion. You can
have it shortened by law. I'm told you're from Ireland. You don't look
much Irish, nor you haven't a bad brogue. I s'pose you've got your
naturalization papers all right. This administration is rather easy on
foreigners, especially French, for Jefferson has Frenchy notions.
President Adams was rough on emigrants--maybe too rough; he wanted
to sock it to them hard by acts of Congress. What is your opinion of the
Alien and Sedition laws? I favor them; I'm a Federalist to the
marrow-bones. I don't reckon you're a United Irishman, Mr. Blanner--"
"Blenner, if you please--Blennerhassett. I belong to the order of United
Irishmen, but I presume your errand here is not to discuss politics. Your
looks denote that you affiliate with--shall I say, the common people,
the humbler class? What is your business here, my good man?"

"Rattlesnakes and brimstone! Me your good man! Me of the humbler
class! Why, Squire B., we have no humbler class on our side of the
Ohio. But you needn't apologize; I'm not huffy. You're new to the
country and your blunders are excusable. I happened along this way--"
"My time is valuable, I must ask you to be brief. What do you want?"
"You're a bigger man than I calculated to see; you're a large-sized
citizen, full six foot, I should guess, and you stoop consider'bl in the
shoulders, like myself. The Byles are all built that way. But your feet
are smaller than mine, and I should think you'd feel awk'ard in such
toggery as them red breeches and shoe buckles."
"You are impertinent," snapped Blennerhassett, turning from his rude
critic. "If you have nothing to tell or to ask that is of any importance,
make off, for I can be detained no longer."
"Hold on, neighbor; I've heaps yet to tell, and lots more to ask. The first
thing I noticed particularly when I landed was that puddle up there,
with the hunk of raw meat soaking, and I would like dangnation well to
know why you put that meat in that puddle?"
Annoyed beyond endurance, the lord of the island would have hurried
away, but he was diverted from his intention by the unexpected conduct
of his guest, who, suddenly dropping on all fours, fell to examining
with the liveliest interest a wild plant which had forced its stem up
through the sod.
"Do you know what that is?" asked Plutarch of the two boys who stood
near their father, perplexed by the dialogue to which they had listened.
They shook their heads, when, glancing up at Scipio, the questioner
repeated, "Do you know?" and not waiting for a reply, "That's
snakeroot; smell it!" He plucked a portion of the herb, rubbed it
between his thumb and forefinger and thrust the bruised substance first
under his own nose and then beneath the reluctant nostrils of the
disdainful Master Dominick.
Mr. Blennerhassett was himself a botanist, or desired to be considered

one, and his eagerness to become familiar with the