call upon our honored Secretary of State, with the view of obtaining
protection for the interests of our merchants who are now endeavoring to
create a trade in ant-eaters with the inhabitants of the Chickadiddle
Islands in the South Sea, I have the honor to submit the following
synopsis of what took place at the interview:

I found Mr. FISH in a state of partial exhaustion, owing to the unusual
heat of the weather, and the perusal of a fresh batch of compliments
forwarded to him by his particular friend in New York, the Hon. C.
ANDERSON DANA.

Three negresses stood about him with palm-leaf fans, endeavoring to
accelerate the movement of the atmosphere in the very close room to
which the privacy of his feelings sometimes drives him. He was reclining
upon a sofa when I entered, but immediately arose and motioned me to
take a seat. I had scarcely occupied a comfortable looking stuffed
back-piece of furniture, when a pricking sensation in the region of my
coat-tails caused me to resume the perpendicular with amazing rapidity,
and, upon looking down, I observed the point of a pin protruding through
the cushion of the chair. The Secretary did not lose his gravity, but
very heartily apologized for what he called the "little _contretemps_."
The smarting sensation made me a little lax in speech, so that I did not
choose my words with that regard for the majesty of a Premier which I
came there at first disposed to do. He listened to my recital of the
application with perfect equanimity, until I mentioned the name of
PUNCHINELLO. At this point he colored slightly, bit his nether lip, and
exclaimed, with evident vexation:

"What! the editor of a sheet that has dared to speak of me as a "scaly"
fellow, and hold my policy up to the laughter of the nation?"