M'Fadden, that he may not be found wanting in his efforts to
amuse the young gentlemen, reaches out his hand to one of them,
takes his cigar from a case, lights it, and proceeds to keep time by
beating his hands on his knees.
The train is approaching the crossing where Mr. M'Fadden will
discharge his property,--his human merchandise, and proceed with it
some eleven miles on the high road. The noise created by the
exuberance of feeling on the part of Mr. M'Fadden has attracted a
numerous assemblage of passengers to the "Jim Crow" car. The
conductor views this as violating the rules of the corporation; he
demands it shall be stopped. All is quiet for a time; they reach the
"crossing" about five o'clock P.M., where, to Mr. Lawrence
M'Fadden's great delight, he finds himself surrounded by a
promiscuous assembly of sovereign citizens, met to partake of the
hospitalities offered by the candidate for the Assembly, who, having
offered himself, expects the distinguished honour of being elected.
The assembled citizens will hear what the learned man's going to
talk about when he gets into the Assembly.
As Mr. M'Fadden is a great politician, and a greater democrat-we
speak according to the southern acceptation-his presence is welcomed
with an enthusiastic burst of applause. Shout after shout makes the
very welkin ring, as his numerous friends gather round him, smile
solicitously, shake him warmly by the hand, honour him as the
peasantry honour the Lord of the Manor.
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