Shakspeare might have a little chance if he were
alive."

"That puts me in mind," says the Western gentleman, "that a statue of
Shakspeare is going to be unveiled in the New York Central Park
to-morrow."

"To-morrow?" says I; "then I'm off to New York to see it done. By and
by, when we have put all the British authors in marble, some one born in
America may get a chance."

"But Shakespeare belongs to the world," says Cousin Dempster, who was
sitting near me.

"All men or women of genius belong to the world," says I, "just as far
as the world knows them; but the country in which a great man or woman
was born, and has lived and written, is the place where he should be
first honored. Have we done anything of that kind yet? I'm not saying
one word against Mr. Shakespeare; his monument ought to be in the most
beautiful spot we have; but let the next statue be that of some
first-class American. Mr. Shakespeare belongs to us as much as he did to
England, because when he lived England was our country, and he belongs
to us now. But since then we have cut loose from the Old World, and
built up a powerful nation, where great authors, both men and women,
have worked out their own birthright of genius, with no help but the
power God has given them--worked it out, too, with not half the
recognition that our Government and our people, to their shame be it
spoken, have given to coarser and weaker intellects from over the sea."

"Why, Phoemie," says Cousin Dempster, "don't get so excited; do you
know that you are talking like a book?"

"It must be an English book if any American takes much notice of it,"
says I; "but rile me up on this subject, and I don't know or care how I
talk. In our part of the country we are Americans to the backbone, and
we mean to keep so."

"Well, but this statue of Shakespeare was first thought of by the actors
who have been living over his plays years and years--Booth, Wallack,
Wheatley, and your dead and gone Halleck, set it a-going.

"What Shakespeare did for theatres, theatre people know how to
acknowledge. They have some spirit; but what author ever comes forward
and asks a place for his fellow-author? How can they expect the country
to be generous to them when they do nothing for each other?"

It kind of took me down when Cousin Dempster said this, and not having
anything to observe, I said nothing, but got right up, and says I:

"If we mean to start for New York, it's time to be getting rea