I twice met at luncheon a gentleman who, I was told, might possibly be
adopted as Democratic Candidate for the Presidency of the United
States. His name was Dr. Woodrow Wilson.
Many country houses in Bermuda have pieces of old Chippendale and
French furniture in them, as well as fine specimens of old French and
Spanish silver. I entirely discredit the malicious rumours I have
heard about the origin of these treasures. All male Bermudians were
seafaring folk in the eighteenth century, and ill-natured people hint
that these intrepid mariners, not content with their legitimate
trading profits, were occasionally not averse to--a little maritime
enterprise. These scandalmongers insinuate that in addition to the
British Ensign under which they sailed, another flag of a duskier hue
was kept in a convenient locker, and was occasionally hoisted when the
owner felt inclined to indulge his tastes as a collector of works of
art, or to act as a Marine Agent. I do not believe one word of it, and
emphatically decline to associate such kindly people with such dubious
proceedings, even if a hundred and fifty years have elapsed since
then.
These merchant-traders conducted their affairs on the most patriarchal
principles. They built their own schooners of their own cedar-wood,
and sailed them themselves with a crew of their own black slaves.
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