Those folks seem to think that you cannot be a general-in-chief without having served as second lieutenant, which comes to the same as saying that no one can point a gun that has not cast one.
Now that is simply--" "Absurd!" replied Tom Hunter, whittling the arms of his chair with his bowie-knife; "and as things are so, there is nothing left for us but to plant tobacco or distil whale-oil!" "What!" shouted J.T.Maston, "shall we not employ these last years of our existence in perfecting firearms?
Will not a fresh opportunity present itself to try the ranges of our projectiles?
Will the atmosphere be no longer illuminated by the lightning of our cannons?
Won't some international difficulty crop up that will allow us to declare war against some transatlantic power?
Won't France run down one of our steamers, or won't England, in defiance of the rights of nations, hang up three or four of our countrymen ?" "No, Maston," answered Colonel Blomsberry; "no such luck! No, not one of those incidents will happen; and if one did, it would be of no use to us.

American sensitiveness is declining daily, and we are going to the dogs!" "Yes, we are growing quite humble," replied Bilsby.
"And we are humiliated!" answered Tom Hunter.
"All that is only too true," replied J.T.Maston, with fresh vehemence.
"There are a thousand reasons for fighting floating about, and still we don't fight! We economise legs and arms, and that to the profit of folks that don't know what to do with them.

Look here, without looking any farther for a motive for war, did not North America formerly belong to the English ?" "Doubtless," answered Tom Hunter, angrily poking the fire with the end of his crutch.
"Well," replied J.T.Maston, "why should not England in its turn belong to the Americans ?" "It would be but justice," answered Colonel Blomsberry.
"Go and propose that to the President of the United States," cried J.T.
Maston, "and see what sort of a reception you would get." "It would not be a bad reception," murmured Bilsby between the four teeth he had saved from battle.
"I'faith," cried J.T.Maston, "they need not count upon my vote in the next elections." "Nor upon ours," answered with common accord these bellicose invalids.
"In the meantime," continued J.T.Maston, "and to conclude, if they do not furnish me with the opportunity of trying my new mortar on a real battle-field, I shall send in my resignation as member of the Gun Club, and I shall go and bury myself in the backwoods of Arkansas." "We will follow you there," answered the interlocutors of the enterprising J.T.

Maston.
Things had come to that pass, and the club, getting more excited, was menaced with approaching dissolution, when an unexpected event came to prevent so regrettable a catastrophe.
The very day after the foregoing conversation each member of the club received a circular couched in these terms:-- "Baltimore, October 3rd.
"The president of the Gun Club has the honour to inform his colleagues that at the meeting on the 5th ultimo he will make them a communication of an extremely interesting nature.

He therefore begs that they, to the suspension of all other business, will attend, in accordance with the present invitation, "Their devoted colleague, "IMPEY BARBICANE, P.G.C.".