At last he said he was afraid he was turning to be a
Whig. Mother assured him that it was not so. She said there was no danger
of her little boy changing into a Whig, not in the least. J.S. has often
been reminded, since he became a man, of the time Mr. Blare came so near
making a Whig of him.
But back to that cabin. There were plenty of men who volunteered and took
their teams. They hitched a long string of them, I think twenty-two yoke
of oxen, to the trucks. Quite a large crowd, for Dearborn, of old and
young, were on hand to witness the start. Most of them appeared very
enthusiastic. Each gave vent to some expression of admiration like the
following: "The General is the man for me;" or, "He is one of the people,
one with the people, one for the people, one with us and we are for him."
That's my sentiment, said one and another. After such exclamations and
the singing of a spirited campaign song, the order was given to start the
teams. The large wheels rolled and the log cabin began to move. Nearly
all appeared to be excited and there was some confusion of voices. Cheer
after cheer arose clear and high for the honest old farmer of North Bend.
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