regular dinner was, as usual, converted into a banquet, and
a band was improvised for the occasion. At the close of dinner the
martial hymns of all nations were played, ending with "Yankee Doodle."
It was impossible to resist the impulse to laugh as this national jig
brought up the rear, and Sam was much displeased that the foreigners
on board, and there were many, should have laughed at his country. When
he went up on deck he found Cleary conversing with Chung Tu, and he
placed his steamer-chair beside theirs and joined the conversation.

"It's a great pity," said he, "that we have such a national air as
'Yankee Doodle.' It holds us up to ridicule."

"Do you think so?" answered Chung Tu, who spoke English perfectly.
"That depends upon the point of view. You see you take the military
point of view. We Porsslanese are not a military nation. We do not
think much of armies. We do not try to spread our territory by force,
and we never encroach on our neighbors' land, altho we are really
overcrowded. Perhaps that is the reason people dislike us. We are not
much of an empire either. We have very little central authority, and
only a handful of officials. We have free speech, and even the Emperor
can be freely criticized without fear. We have no conscription, and no
one need carry a passport, as they have to in some countries. We are
almost a democracy. We have no exclusive hereditary rank. Any one may
become a mandarin if he learns enough to deserve it. We only wanted to
be left alone without armies, and we did not want to buy guns and
ships. That is all. We are almost a democracy, and that is the reason
that I have always studied your history with care. I have studied your
state papers and your hymns. I have made a special study of them, and I
have come to the opposite conclusion from you as to 'Yankee Doodle.' It
seems to me to be the work of a great poet and prophet."

"What do you mean?" asked Sam.

"Let us consider it seriously," said Chung Tu. "Have you a copy of it?"

"No," said Sam, laughing.

"Then please repeat it for us, and I will write it down."

Sam began to recite, but he found it difficult to keep his face
straight:

"'Yankee Doodle went to town,
Riding on a pony.
He stuck a feather in his crown
And called him macaroni.'"

"That is not like my version," said the attache, pulling a piece of
paper from the pocket of his silk jacket. "Here is m