A cadet from Annapolis was the first object that met my eye when I got
out.
"'S death! a Virginian in that hated uniform?"
I said no such thing, felt no such thing, but was inwardly pleased
that Uncle Sam's money (he gets ten millions a year out of Virginia
tobacco, and then brags about what he does for our children, the sly
old dog!) was educating some of our boys who otherwise might not be
educated half so well, if at all. Moreover, the broad shoulders, the
trim flanks, the aquiline nose, brown hair and ruddy cheeks of the
young fellow recalled the best specimens of British lads whom I had
seen in Canada and elsewhere. In truth, I could hardly persuade myself
that he was not English.
Albion was in the air, for on the other side of the depot there was
a lot of trunks and other baggage, the make of which could not
be mistaken. I soon learned that one of the best estates in the
neighborhood had been sold to an Englishman, who had arrived that
very day.
"Furies! the sacred soil of Virginia _again_ passing into the hands of
the blarsted Hinglish, from whom it was wrested a century ago by the
blood and treasure of George Washington's hatchet! A Federal cadet on
one side and an Englishman on the other of Blank Depot, away off here
in Bedford! What are we coming to?"
I did not say or think this either, but was delighted to find John
Bull pervading the Old Dominion.
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