t is, John
Bull and Cousin Jonathan must be good friends; strife is the dire
enemy of good order, while war becomes the assassin seeking to
overthrow those principles of constitutional liberty, both nations so
wisely combined in their constitutions. Why tear down the noble
edifice you cannot rebuild? why blight the cheering prospects of
thousands to gratify the vain ambition of pedantic politicians?

"'Hallo! Smooth, my dear fellow, what place is this below?' cries out
Littlejohn, looking over, as the balloon made a B line westward.

"'That,' I interrupted, 'used to be called the 'far West.' Now it is
getting to be the centre of civilization. It goes ahead of the march
of progress, while outstripping comprehension. Upon this great expanse
will spring up the materials for feeding every hungry and oppressed
citizen this side of sun-down. We can already raise anything,--from
mountain of corn to a river of pork,--on it; and as for the nigger
crop, there's no end of that!'

"'And that yours, too, Mr. Smooth? Your fertile acres stretch from sea
to sea.' Little John interrupting, pointed all over the broad expanse
below. He had no generalized ideas of America, no distinct estimate of
her productive and maintaining powers, and less knowledge of that
machinery so simply beautiful called her government. He never for once
thought how this wide western expanse was destined for the back-bone
of the mightiest republic the world ever knew. People without homes in
the old world found happy homes there; civilization drove the buffalo
from his wonted haunt to give place to man; man himself yielded to the
power of progress marching westward. 'Now, Littlejohn.' said I,
'seeing that your people have but an imperfect geographical knowledge
of our country, let me tell you that yon black ridge you see afar down
is the range of rocky mountains. Colonel Fremont, a small man, slim
enough to split the wind, but as tough as Uncle Seth's whip-stock,
climbed the loftiest peak, hung his hat on it, made the stars and
stripes on a rag--(in accordance with necessity and the go-ahead
spirit of our country)--hung them flying in a snowstorm, whistled
Yankee Doodle three times and proclaimed them ours in the name of the
United States. All this was smooth and fair,--done in the spirit of
our go-ahead, all-accomplished diplomacy.'

"'Ah!' interrupted Littlejohn, 'your appetite for bits of territory
runs monstrously that way.'

"'Yes!' I replied; 'but, Jo