man, whom I esteemed much better inside than out, so I offered him
half of my shingle, at the same time intimating that we would have
some whiskey. At this he lowered his voice, and continued with a slow
shake of the head:--'I'm not so bad as I seem. Peradventure I wanted a
small chance at the Britishers. I hate them, but that only signifies a
trifle. Mr. Pierce, like a horn lantern for which Uncle Caleb and Jeff
furnish the light, is fast getting affairs into a fuzzle; this must be
so while the light is thus furnished, and the regulation of its
burning be left to Grandpapa Marcy. Fact is, you see, Mr. Smooth, the
administration is become like a steam-engine, Mr. Pierce being used as
a piston by Caleb, Jeff, and Co., who, in addition, furnish
Southern-rights for fuel, use patronage as a condenser, and make a
safety valve of Papa Marcy. But Papa has yet to take many lessons in
National Engineering before his control over the machine is complete.'
I watched the old man's anxious eye as he spoke; and again suggested
the taking a little whiskey: I pitied him. 'It will set ye all right!'
says I, 'it'll take the fogyism all out, warm up yer inards, and make
yer ideas come out with the philosophy of a _Mara beau_. Mr. Pierce
loves to traffic in the language of war, but like all little
creatures, makes his noise and stops.'

"'Well, in obedience to my friendship for you, Smooth--and with the
knowledge that you are going into business with Uncle
Sam--appreciating the 'Young American' party as I do, I don't care if
I take. It may revive the hope of 1856. After all, there is something
in you New Englanders I like--give us yer hand,' he replied suddenly,
as a soft smile spread over his hard face. He commenced wiping his
lips, and was so polite. I rang the bell, and up came the negro, his
face as full of alarm as a frightened moon in a hail-storm. Alarmed at
his appearance, the General sprang to his feet, and was for bolting