were his wont. Old Bunkum was the slave whose grave he sat upon. It
was a strange penance over the mound of one so old; and yet who in the
political world that had not paid it? 'Why!--Bunkum, you are
barefoot;' a voice spoke.

"'Remember, old man, you must keep on the stiff,--it's as necessary to
success as it was to believe the old Constitution frigate could whip
anything afloat.' It was the General who spoke to the ghost of Bunkum,
who, having risen from the grave, stood before him, moody and
despairing. In ecstasy he grasped the hand of the cold figure cried
out that his soul's love was with him. But in his exuberance he let
the whiskey run over the green grave, into which the ghost soon
disappeared and left him alone to his contemplations. Bunkum, like
Billy Bowlegs, who has too much sense for the great father, says he
has wandered through all weathers, and endured all kinds of political
farcery: now that he had become old, and served as long as the god of
sacrifice, would they not let him rest in peace? Here the General
seemed alone and forlorn: then he wept bitterly, until the ghost of
Bunkum in pity again appeared and with him sat upon the grave. The
General kindly took him by the hand, and in his ear whispered
something, the only part of which became audible was--'When as
President of this great country I became, I was bound--' Here the man
paused. A kindlier feeling now came over Bunkum, in evidence of which
he motioned as if he would take another drop of whiskey with the
President, or ask a favor he was delicate about broaching. For a man
who had so long looked upon things beneath him his reserve was to be
appreciated, especially when viewed in comparison with the
expectations of those many numerous friends, all of whom expected
foreign missions. Having chatted and sipped together a sufficient
length of time, and as Bunkum was about to say _good by_, he turned