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?"
"Pardon me, Mr. Secretary," I interposed, with all the courtesy of
manner I could muster, "but I think you mistake the motive of Mr.
Pages:
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37