The Last of the Flatboats. Eggleston George Cary

to be with Ed? He can’t do half as much as any one of us at an oar, or at anything else except thinking, and yet we would never have come on this voyage – ”

      “Oh, dry up!” said Ed, seeing the compliment that was impending. “I was going to say – ”

      “And so was I going to say,” said Constant; “and, in fact, I am going to say. What I’m going to say is that there isn’t a fellow here who would be here but for you, Ed. There isn’t a fellow here that wouldn’t be glad to do all of your share of the work, if Phil would let him, just for the sake of hearing what you think. Anyhow, that’s why Constant Thiebaud is a member of this crew.”

      It was the longest speech that Constant Thiebaud had ever been known to make, and it was the most effective one he could have made, because it put into words the thought that was in every one’s mind. That is the very essence of oratory and of effective writing. All the great speeches in the world have been those that cleverly expressed the thought and the feeling of those who listened. All the great books have been those that said for the vast, dumb multitudes that which was in their minds and souls vainly longing for utterance.

      When Constant had finished, there was silence for a moment. Then Irv Strong said impressively: —

      “Amen!”

      That exclamation ended the silence, and expressed the common sentiment of all who were present. For even Jim Hughes, who was listening, had begun to be interested.

      Ed was embarrassed, of course, and for the first time in his life words completely failed him. He sat up; then he grasped Constant’s hand, and said, “I thank you, fellows.” And with that he retreated hurriedly to the cabin for a little while.

      Constant went to the pump, and labored hard for a time to draw water from a bilge that had no leak. Will went to inspect the anchor, as if he feared that something might be the matter with it. Phil and Irving jumped overboard, and swam twice around the boat.

      Finally, all came on deck again, and Will said: —

      “Go on, Ed. We want to hear.”

      Ed at once resumed, Jim Hughes meantime working with the steering-oar.

      “Well, this great river gave the people who came over the mountains, and afterward the people who came up it from New Orleans, not only an outlet to the sea, but a sort of public road, over which they could travel and trade with each other. When the upper Ohio region began to be settled, a great swarm of emigrants from the East poured over the mountains, and made a highway of the river to get themselves and all that belonged to them to the upper Mississippi, the lower Mississippi, and the Missouri River country. My father once told me, before he died, that in his boyhood you could tell a steamboat bound from Pittsburg or Cincinnati to St. Louis from any other boat, because she was red all over with ploughs, wagons, and all that sort of thing. Agricultural implements were all painted red in those days, and as they weren’t very heavy freight they were bestowed all over the boat, – on the boiler deck guards, on the hurricane deck, and sometimes were in the cabin, and on top of the Texas.2 Now, without these ploughs, wagons, harrows, and so forth, how could the pioneers ever have brought the great Western country under cultivation? And without the river how could they ever have got these necessary implements, or themselves, for that matter, to the regions where they were needed?”