On this
evening I was seized with the fancy to visit him--and passing through
the grounds of the capitol, where the bronze Washington and his great
companions looked silently out into the moonlight, reached the small
house, followed the path through the shrubbery, and opening the door in
the rear, found myself suddenly enveloped in a cloud of cigar smoke,
through which loomed the portly figure of Mr. X-----.
He was seated, as usual, in his large arm-chair, by the table, covered
with papers; and a small bell near his hand seemed placed there for the
convenience of summoning an attendant, without the trouble of rising.
Near the bell lay a package of foreign-looking documents. Near the
documents lay a pile of telegraphic dispatches. In the appearance and
surroundings of this man you read "Power."
Mr. X----- received me with easy cordiality.
"Glad to see you, my dear colonel," he said, rising and shaking my
hand; then sinking back in his chair, "take a cigar, and tell me the
news." I sat down,--having declined the proffered cigar.
"The news!" I said, laughing; "I ought to ask that of you."
"Ah! you think I am well-informed?"
I pointed to the dispatches. Mr. X----- shrugged his shoulders.
"Papers from England and France--they are not going to recognize us.
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