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The American Claimant by Mark Twain

forward and said impressively:

“What was due to a man who had become forever conspicuous by an

experience without precedent in the history of the world?–a man made

permanently and diplomatically sacred, so to speak, by having been

connected, temporarily, through solicitation, with every single

diplomatic post in the roster of this government, from Envoy

Extraordinary and Minister Plenipotentiary to the Court of St. James all

the way down to Consul to a guano rock in the Straits of Sunda–salary

payable in guano–which disappeared by volcanic convulsion the day before

they got down to my name in the list of applicants. Certainly something

august enough to be answerable to the size of this unique and memorable

experience was my due, and I got it. By the common voice of this

community, by acclamation of the people, that mighty, utterance which

brushes aside laws and legislation, and from whose decrees there is no

appeal, I was named Perpetual Member of the Diplomatic Body representing

the multifarious sovereignties and civilizations of the globe near the

republican court of the United States of America. And they brought me

home with a torchlight procession.”

“It is wonderful, Colonel, simply wonderful.”

“It’s the loftiest official position in the whole earth.”

“I should think so-and the most commanding.”

“You have named the word. Think of it. I frown, and there is war; I

smile, and contending nations lay down their arms.”

“It is awful. The responsibility, I mean.”

“It is nothing. Responsibility is no burden to me; I am used to it; have

always been used to it.”

“And the work–the work! Do you have to attend all the sittings?”

“Who, I? Does the Emperor of Russia attend the conclaves of the

governors of the provinces? He sits at home, and indicates his

pleasure.”

Washington was silent a moment, then a deep sigh escaped him.

“How proud I was an hour ago; how paltry seems my little promotion now!

Colonel, the reason I came to Washington is,–I am Congressional Delegate

from Cherokee Strip!”

The Colonel sprang to his feet and broke out with prodigious enthusiasm:

“Give me your hand, my boy–this is immense news! I congratulate you

with all my heart. My prophecies stand confirmed. I always said it was

in you. I always said you were born for high distinction and would

achieve it. You ask Polly if I didn’t.”

Washington was dazed by this most unexpected demonstration.

“Why, Colonel, there’s nothing to it. That little narrow, desolate,

unpeopled, oblong streak of grass and gravel, lost in the remote wastes

of the vast continent–why, it’s like representing a billiard table–a

discarded one.”

“Tut-tut, it’s a great, it’s a staving preferment, and just opulent with

influence here.”

“Shucks, Colonel, I haven’t even a vote.”

“That’s nothing; you can make speeches.”

“No, I can’t. The population’s only two, hundred–”

“That’s all right, that’s all right–”

“And they hadn’t any right to elect me; we’re not even a territory,

there’s no Organic Act, the government hasn’t any official knowledge of

us whatever.”

“Never mind about that; I’ll fix that. I’ll rush the thing through, I’ll

get you organized in no time.”

“Will you, Colonel?–it’s too good of you; but it’s just your old

sterling self, the same old ever-faithful friend,” and the grateful tears

welled up in Washington’s eyes.

“It’s just as good as done, my boy, just as good as done. Shake hands.

We’ll hitch teams together, you and I, and we’ll make things hum!”

CHAPTER III.

Mrs. Sellers returned, now, with her composure restored, and began to ask

after Hawkins’s wife, and about his children, and the number of them, and

so on, and her examination of the witness resulted in a circumstantial

history of the family’s ups and downs and driftings to and fro in the far

West during the previous fifteen years. There was a message, now, from

out back, and Colonel Sellers went out there in answer to it. Hawkins

took this opportunity to ask how the world had been using the Colonel

during the past half-generation.

“Oh, it’s been using him just the same; it couldn’t change its way of

using him if it wanted to, for he wouldn’t let it.”

“I can easily believe that, Mrs. Sellers.”

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Categories: Twain, Mark
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