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for nobody can ask a heartier persecution than these editorials are
furnishing."
"I am not so sure of that, my daughter. I don't entirely like the tone
of some of these remarks. They lack vim, they lack venom. Here is one
calls it a 'questionable measure.' Bah, there is no strength in that.
This one is better; it calls it 'highway robbery.' That sounds something
like. But now this one seems satisfied to call it an 'iniquitous
scheme'. 'Iniquitous' does not exasperate anybody; it is weak--puerile.
The ignorant will imagine it to be intended for a compliment. But this
other one--the one I read last--has the true ring: 'This vile, dirty
effort to rob the public treasury, by the kites and vultures that now
infest the filthy den called Congress'--that is admirable, admirable!
We must have more of that sort. But it will come--no fear of that;
they're not warmed up, yet. A week from now you'll see."
"
Uncle, you and Brother Balaam are bosom friends--why don't you get his
paper to persecute us, too?"
"It isn't worth while, my daughter. His support doesn't hurt a bill.
Nobody reads his editorials but himself. But I wish the New York papers
would talk a little plainer. It is annoying to have to wait a week for
them to warm up. I expected better things at their hands--and time is
precious, now."
At the proper hour, according to his previous notice, Mr. Buckstone duly
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