Maria knocked on the cracked beams and pillars: "The gunboats of the Korean kingdom will soon shell Nagasaki, and the 8,000 samurai of Kumaki will launch a fierce attack within ten days...... They are not useless shogunate and vassal army."

"The samurai of the Nagasaki Republic will never surrender!" Sakuma Xiangyama's face turned pale, "We only hope that the concubine can let the people of Nagasaki... They are all innocent!"

At this time, the sound of nursery rhymes came from outside the window. Several elementary school students wearing straw hats walked by hand. A teacher carried the broken string of Sanwei thread and taught them to sing the "Song of Equality of the Four People" while walking.

Sakuma said: "Although we have failed, the concept of equality among the four people will definitely be passed down in Japan!"

Maria pulled out a telegram from her bag: "Nanki Ryuko now holds up the 'Kinsuno Imperial Flag', and her true samurai is also an enemy of the shogunate! Take your core cadres on board the Dingyuan ship, and I order the Dingyuan ship to send you to Yokohama, and you can surrender to the shogunate. As for the civilians - I can protect them!"

Sakuma stared at the deputy leader of the True Job Sect in front of him and said word by word in Chinese: "Do you want us to be the dogs of the Tokugawa family?"

"The chess piece must have the awareness of the chess piece," Maria said. "Nazaki's chess game is over, you are going to the new chess board!"

The Dingyuan ship's whistle suddenly roared. Black smoke rose outside the port, and the watchtower sounded the alarm bell. The steam ship of the North Korean Heaven is coming!

September 12, 1860, Port of New York.

The French cruise ship Bonaparte slowly drove into the estuary of the Hudson River, and the roar of the steam engine and the chirping of the seagulls were intertwined. On Shinban, Rinko wrapped her mink cloak tightly and looked at the gradually clear Manhattan skyline in the distance.

Early autumn in New York is already chilly, but there is a hustle and bustle on the pier.

French Consul in New York, Louis de Montebello, had already been waiting at the dock. He was wearing a delicate black tuxedo and a medal of honor on his chest. When he saw Rinko getting off the boat, he immediately took off his top hat and bowed deeply.

"Hisser Leopard, welcome to the United States of America." His French language is elegant in Paris' upper class, "His Royal Highness specifically instructs you to make sure that all your trips in New York are comfortable and decent."

Rinko said with a slight look on her head: "Mr. Consul is trouble."

Montebello took her luggage diligently and whispered: "The situation in New York has been bad lately. Republican supporters have occupied almost every street. But rest assured, I have arranged the safest route for you."

As soon as they walked out of the dock, they ran into a parade holding signs. The men were wearing rough cloth work clothes, waving star-striped flags, and shouting slogans:

"Americans use American goods!"

"High tariffs! High wages!"

"We want Lincoln! Let the British goods get out!"

Rinko frowned slightly, but Montebello took it for granted and whispered: "These are hardcore Republican supporters, factory owners, workers, bankers, and everyone believes that Lincoln's high tariffs can make them rich."

A gorgeously decorated four-wheeled carriage was ready, with the door painted with the badge of the French consulate. As soon as Rinko stepped into the carriage, an Irish newspaper boy in the sill building rushed over and waved the newspaper and shouted:

"New York Tribune! Latest news! Lincoln promises to gradually increase tariffs to 46%!"

Rinko threw him a coin and took the newspaper. The front page was printed with several lines of thick black titles:

"Mr. Lincoln's high tariffs will make America great!" "Let low tariffs and free trade go hell!"

"The United States does not need to import!"

Montebello closed the car door and smiled bitterly: "You see, Yankees, at least the residents of the Northern Industrial City are already crazy."

The carriage slowly drove across Broadway Street, and the shop windows on both sides of the street were filled with "Made in the United States" labels, and some shops even hung banners:

"This store will never sell British goods!"

Rinko put down the newspaper and asked, "Mr. Consul, do you think Lincoln's policy can really revitalize American industry?

F2

Montebello pondered for a moment: "There is no doubt that high tariffs can indeed make northern factory owners make a fortune. But what is the price? Will southern planters be willing to be exploited? Will farmers in the Midwest endure soaring industrial products and falling agricultural products prices?" He lowered his voice, "Hissergeant, IMHO, Lincoln's radical tariff policy will surely tear the country apart."

At the same time, in Charleston O'Hara's study, Xianfeng was writing at his desk. The quill rustled on the paper, and the ink splashed, and his brows frowned, as if he was about to pour out his anger on the paper.

"Lincoln, Ten Thousand Taxes" (Author: A cotton planter who doesn't want to starve to death)

"When the Pennsylvania steel furnace swallows another ton of high-priced iron ore, and when the Massachusetts textile machine crushes another packet of cheap southern cotton, Mr. Lincoln may practice his inaugural speech in the mirror. But please look at the poor white people in the southern agricultural states about to go bankrupt! Look at the land mortgaged by the Midwest farmers to banks! The high tariffs are two-edged knives inserted into the chest of the American factory owners smiled and tightened the hilt, but we southerners were asking us to bear the pain of the blade running through. They kept saying "protecting American labor", but who would protect and raise the farmers who have 30 million American people.

?As we all know, American workers have the highest wages in the world, while American farmers are providing them with the cheapest agricultural products in the world! But now, they also have to protect workers and factory owners...:::. At the cost of our American farmers! Gentlemen, this is not protection, it is robbery and massacre! Feed the vultures of Wall Street with our flesh and blood and exchanged our bankruptcy for their vaults. When Lincoln's votes piled up high on the banks of the Great Lakes, remember: every vote is soaked in the tears of mothers in the south, and the sweat of farmers in the Midwest!"

As soon as he put down his pen, the door of the study was pushed open. Scarlett O'Hara rushed in with her red skirt flying and her green eyes shining.

"Bissar Zhao! Have you finished writing it? Let me see it!"

Before Xianfeng could answer, she had grabbed the manuscript paper, cleared her throat, and recited it loudly. Her voice was crisp and powerful, with the unique enthusiasm of the southern girls, and every word was whipped in the air like a whip.

When she read "high tariffs are two-edged knifes inserted into American chests", Gerald O'Hara, who was sitting on the sofa, slapped her thighs suddenly, and her bearded roared, "Okay, right! Lincoln's Yankees just wanted to suck our blood!"

Zeng Ke, the black slave next to him, also smiled: "Mr. Zhao writes well, Mr. Zhao is a great person!"

After reading the last sentence, Scarlett raised his chin and proudly announced: "This article will be on the front page of the Charleston Courier tomorrow! Let everyone in the south know that we will never be slaughtered!"

Gerald jumped up and raised his glass: "For cotton! For the south!"

Xianfeng and Scarlett looked at each other and smiled, raised their wine glasses and shouted, "Long live the cotton!"
Chapter completed!