"Thanks to the genius of General Wilkinson," Colonel Clark continued,
waving his hand towards the smilingly placid hero, "that tobacco has been
deposited in the King's store at ten dollars per hundred,--a privilege
heretofore confined to Spanish subjects. Well might Wilkinson return
from New Orleans in a chariot and four to a grateful Kentucky! This year
we have tripled, nay, quadrupled, our crop of tobacco, and we are here
to-night to give thanks to the author of this prosperity." Alas, Colonel
Clark's hand was not as steady as of yore, and he spilled the liquor on
the table as he raised his glass. "Gentlemen, a health to our
benefactor."

They drank it willingly, and withal so lengthily and noisily that Mr.
Wilkinson stood smiling and bowing for full three minutes before he could
be heard. He was a very paragon of modesty, was the General, and a man
whose attitudes and expressions spoke as eloquently as his words. None
looked at him now but knew before he opened his mouth that he was
deprecating such an ovation.

"Gentlemen,--my friends and fellow-Kentuckians," he said, "I thank you
from the bottom of my heart for your kindness, but I assure you that I
have done nothing worthy of it [loud protests]. I am a simple, practical
man, who loves Kentucky better than he loves himself. This is no virtue,
for we all have it. We have the misfortune to be governed by a set of
worthy gentlemen who know little about Kentucky and her wants, and think
less [cries of "Ay, ay!"]. I am not decrying General Washington and his
cabinet; it is but natural that the wants of the seaboard and the welfare
and opulence of the Eastern cities should be uppermost in their minds
[another interruption]. Kentucky, if she would prosper, must look to her
own welfare. And if any credit is due to me, gentlemen, it is because I