# Myths and Legends Beyond Our Borders/Fourth of July at Yale

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FOURTH OF JULY AT YALE
IN the early days at Yale, on the Fraser, the place was peopled by a rough crowd of six hundred Yankees, who had been drawn into the region by the discovery of gold on American Bar. The "foreigners" in this company were few, and the Americans managed the town affairs in their own way. On the Fourth of July after their arrival they decided to celebrate the independence of the United States. They were on British territory, but what odds? Nobody was there to object. Oh, but stop; there was one objector, a cockney, known as "Bloody" Edwards, who freely flung away his h's and did not mix pleasantly with his neighbors. Having imbibed strong waters and fired salutes until their patriotism was at a high pitch, the miners decided to call on Edwards and "initiate" him. That worthy saw the crowd approaching with fife, drum, and colors, and he stood at the door of his shack, waving a small British ​flag and roaring for Hold Hingland and the queen. The flag was like the proverbial red rag shaken before a bull, except that it was John Bull who was shaking it.
"Naturalize him," cried one.
"Swear him in. Make him take the oath," shouted another.
They proposed the oath of allegiance to the United States. Edwards refused it with profane and contemptuous remarks about the republic, and another "bloody hooray" for the queen.
"Duck him in the Fraser," commanded the Irishman in the party.
"Yes, baptize him as an American citizen."
The Briton remaining obdurate, he was hustled to the river and cast in with a mighty splash. He cheered for England as he arose to the surface and struck out for shore. The crowd laughed, and, considering the incident closed, prepared to return, but the Irishman had a century of inherited hate to satisfy, and, bending over the bank as Edwards had almost touched it, he thrust him back into the cold, muddy water, shrieking, "Drown him, dom him! Drown the son of a gun!"
Emerging a second time from the swift current, the Briton cheered again, but weakly, and swam more slowly. The Irishman again stood ready to force him under water. "The darned fool don't know enough to give in," commented one of the bystanders.
​"It isn't fool; it's grit," answered another.
"Drown him! Kill him!" howled the Celt.
A tall Yankee advanced to the bank, thrust his elbow into the Irishman's stomach, with some advice to get away, and, lending his hand to the tired swimmer, pulled him out. Nearly all followed him to the nearest cabin, a little concerned when they saw how weak and chilled he was. After being stripped, rubbed, clothed in dry raiment, and entreated in a friendly manner, a bumper of spiced rum was poured out for him, in which he was at liberty to drink anybody's health. He drank it for his own. The little red flag they induced him to give up, that they might raise it with the stars and stripes. As the flags of the two nations lay spread on the shingle, where they were to be tied together, one of those blasts of wind that so often belch through the cañons caught them, twisted them into one, and sent them high into the air, soaring like an eagle, a spot against the snow-fields. Said one old miner, solemnly, "God has joined them two flags together."
And millions say to that, "Amen!"