in battle array; Florida replied that its twelve counties could do more than twenty-six in a state that was six times bigger.
Texas bragged about its 330,000 inhabitants; Florida boasted that it was more densely populated with its 56,000 inhabitants, since its area was so much smaller. Furthermore, it accused Texas of specializing in malaria, which took the lives of several thousand people every year. And it was true.
Texas replied that Florida was second to none when it came to fevers, and that it was rash, to say the least, to accuse other places of being unhealthy when it had the honor of having
vomigo negro
in a chronic state. And this was also true.
“Besides,” the Texans added through the voice of the
New York Herald,
“it is unthinkable to snub a state thatgrows the best cotton in the country, produces the best oak for ship construction, contains magnificent coal deposits, and has iron mines whose yield is fifty percent pure ore.”
To this the
American Review
answered that, while the soil of Florida was not as rich, it would be better for molding and casting the cannon because it was composed of sand and clayey earth.
“But,” said the Texans, “before casting anything in a place, you have to get there first, and travel to Florida is difficult, while the coast of Texas has Galveston Bay, which has thirty-five miles of coastline and is big enough to hold all the fleets in the world.”
“You may as well forget about your Galveston Bay,” replied the newspapers devoted to Florida, “because it’s above the twenty-ninth parallel. But we have Tampa Bay, which opens south of the twenty-eighth parallel and enables ships to go directly to Tampa.”
“A fine bay!” said Texas. “It’s half silted up!”
“Silted up yourself!” retorted Florida. “Are you trying to insinuate that I’m a land of savages?”
“Well, it’s true that the Seminoles still roam across you.”
“What about your Apaches and Comanches? I suppose they’re civilized!”
The war had been going on this way for several days when Florida tried to draw its adversary into another area. One morning the
Times
stated that since the project was “thoroughly American,” it should take place only on “thoroughly American” land.
Texas was stung to the quick. “American!” it cried. “We’re just as American as you are! Texas and Florida both became part of the Union in the same year: 1845!”
“Maybe so,” said the
Times,
“but we’d belonged to the United States since 1820.”
“You certainly had,” said the
Tribune.
“After being Spanish or English for two hundred years, you were sold to the United States for five million dollars!”
“What of it?” said the Floridians. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. All the land in the Louisiana Purchase was bought from Napoleon in 1803 for only fifteen million dollars.”
“It’s disgraceful!” cried the Texans. “A wretched lump of land like Florida dares to compare itself to Texas, which instead of selling itself, won its independence by driving out the Mexicans on March 2, 1836, declared itself a republic after Sam Houston’s victory over Santa Anna’s troops on the banks of the San Jacinto, and later
voluntarily
joined the United States!”
“Because it was afraid of the Mexicans,” said Florida.
Afraid! The word was much too strong. As soon as it was spoken the situation became intolerable. Everyone expected the two groups to fight a bloody battle in the streets of Baltimore at any moment. The authorities kept them under surveillance at all times.
Barbicane was at his wit’s end. He was inundated with notes, documents, and threatening letters. What decision was he to make? From the standpoint of suitability of soil, ease of communication, and speed of transportation, the two states were truly equal. As for political considerations, they were irrelevant.
This hesitation and perplexity had lasted for a long time when Barbicane finally resolved to put an
Texas bragged about its 330,000 inhabitants; Florida boasted that it was more densely populated with its 56,000 inhabitants, since its area was so much smaller. Furthermore, it accused Texas of specializing in malaria, which took the lives of several thousand people every year. And it was true.
Texas replied that Florida was second to none when it came to fevers, and that it was rash, to say the least, to accuse other places of being unhealthy when it had the honor of having
vomigo negro
in a chronic state. And this was also true.
“Besides,” the Texans added through the voice of the
New York Herald,
“it is unthinkable to snub a state thatgrows the best cotton in the country, produces the best oak for ship construction, contains magnificent coal deposits, and has iron mines whose yield is fifty percent pure ore.”
To this the
American Review
answered that, while the soil of Florida was not as rich, it would be better for molding and casting the cannon because it was composed of sand and clayey earth.
“But,” said the Texans, “before casting anything in a place, you have to get there first, and travel to Florida is difficult, while the coast of Texas has Galveston Bay, which has thirty-five miles of coastline and is big enough to hold all the fleets in the world.”
“You may as well forget about your Galveston Bay,” replied the newspapers devoted to Florida, “because it’s above the twenty-ninth parallel. But we have Tampa Bay, which opens south of the twenty-eighth parallel and enables ships to go directly to Tampa.”
“A fine bay!” said Texas. “It’s half silted up!”
“Silted up yourself!” retorted Florida. “Are you trying to insinuate that I’m a land of savages?”
“Well, it’s true that the Seminoles still roam across you.”
“What about your Apaches and Comanches? I suppose they’re civilized!”
The war had been going on this way for several days when Florida tried to draw its adversary into another area. One morning the
Times
stated that since the project was “thoroughly American,” it should take place only on “thoroughly American” land.
Texas was stung to the quick. “American!” it cried. “We’re just as American as you are! Texas and Florida both became part of the Union in the same year: 1845!”
“Maybe so,” said the
Times,
“but we’d belonged to the United States since 1820.”
“You certainly had,” said the
Tribune.
“After being Spanish or English for two hundred years, you were sold to the United States for five million dollars!”
“What of it?” said the Floridians. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. All the land in the Louisiana Purchase was bought from Napoleon in 1803 for only fifteen million dollars.”
“It’s disgraceful!” cried the Texans. “A wretched lump of land like Florida dares to compare itself to Texas, which instead of selling itself, won its independence by driving out the Mexicans on March 2, 1836, declared itself a republic after Sam Houston’s victory over Santa Anna’s troops on the banks of the San Jacinto, and later
voluntarily
joined the United States!”
“Because it was afraid of the Mexicans,” said Florida.
Afraid! The word was much too strong. As soon as it was spoken the situation became intolerable. Everyone expected the two groups to fight a bloody battle in the streets of Baltimore at any moment. The authorities kept them under surveillance at all times.
Barbicane was at his wit’s end. He was inundated with notes, documents, and threatening letters. What decision was he to make? From the standpoint of suitability of soil, ease of communication, and speed of transportation, the two states were truly equal. As for political considerations, they were irrelevant.
This hesitation and perplexity had lasted for a long time when Barbicane finally resolved to put an
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