He was an intimate associate of the gentleman at whose house I
was staying; had taken great interest in my recovery after Yellow
Tavern; and therefore had done me the honor to bestow his friendship
upon me.
On the day to which we have now come, Judge Conway had made a speech of
surpassing eloquence, in Congress, on the condition of the country, and
I had listened, thrilling at the brave voice which rang out its
sonorous, "All's well!" amid the storm. I was now going to call on the
statesman to express my admiration of his eloquent appeal, and converse
upon the exciting topics of the hour.
I found him in a mansion not far from the splendid residence of Mr.
Blocque. Here he occupied "apartments," or rather a single room,--and,
in 1864, my dear reader, that was a very common mode of living.
Like others, Judge Conway was too poor to occupy a whole house,--even
too poor to board. He had a single apartment, containing a few chairs
and a bed; was waited on by a maid; and, I think, prepared his own
meals, which were plain to poverty.
He met me at the door of his bare and poor-looking apartment, extending
his hand with the gracious and stately courtesy of the ancient regime.
His figure was small, slight, and bent by age; his face, thin and pale;
his hair nearly white, and falling in long curls upon his shoulders;
under the gray brows sparkled keen, penetrating, but benignant eyes.
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