Note 11 — Chapter XIV

Some months later than this we were at a supper party, after some old English ballads and songs had been sung, when one of the company apologized for it, saying, “We forget our American friends. It is selfish in us to sing only these national songs in which we are peculiarly interested. Have you nothing American, now?” “Excuse me, sir,” I replied, “those are our national songs as much as yours. You forget that we are also countrymen of Will Shakspeare, and Robin Hood, and Richard the Lion-hearted. Our mothers danced with your fathers under that same ‘green-wood,’ and around the ‘May-pole.’ Our fathers fought for their right in this land against Turk, Frenchman, Spaniard, and Pretender. We have as much pride in Old England, gentlemen, as any of you. We claim the right to make ourselves at home on that ground with you. You must not treat us as strangers.” “You are right; you are welcome. Give us your hand. The old blood will tell!” And the whole table rose with a hurrah, shaking our hands with a warmth that only patriotic pride will excuse among Englishmen.