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27 Colonel Zachary Taylor Has Pokagon for Tea His hands were large, grotesquely so— unseemly against the bone-china cups. I gave him the option—Go to KANSAS— That’s the future for you, open spaces. He couldn’t see the sense of it but was civil enough to make his mark. He could well have written his name— but why quibble? He didn’t have the spirit. No Black Hawk. He would have settled for even less than we offered. His hands shook around the white cup imported from the Orient, careless of its worth. ...

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