"Everything is lost through this shillyshallying timidity, called prudence," cried Paul Jones, starting to his feet; "to be effectual, war should be carried on like a monsoon, one changeless determination of every particle towards the one unalterable aim.

But in vacillating councils, statesmen idle about like the cats'-paws in calms.

My God, why was I not born a Czar!" "A Nor'wester, rather.

Come, come, Captain," added the sage, "sit down, we have a third person present, you see," pointing towards Israel, who sat rapt at the volcanic spirit of the stranger.
Paul slightly started, and turned inquiringly upon Israel, who, equally owing to Paul's own earnestness of discourse and Israel's motionless bearing, had thus far remained undiscovered.
"Never fear, Captain," said the sage, "this man is true blue, a secret courier, and an American born.

He is an escaped prisoner of war." "Ah, captured in a ship ?" asked Paul eagerly; "what ship?
None of mine! Paul Jones never was captured." "No, sir, in the brigantine Washington, out of Boston," replied Israel; "we were cruising to cut off supplies to the English." "Did your shipmates talk much of me ?" demanded Paul, with a look as of a parading Sioux demanding homage to his gewgaws; "what did they say of Paul Jones ?" "I never heard the name before this evening," said Israel.
"What?
Ah--brigantine Washington--let me see; that was before I had outwitted the Soleby frigate, fought the Milford, and captured the Mellish and the rest off Louisbergh.