of the nation, made manifest in its government, the South sought to maintain.  So said my friend, whose name was Pringle Pierpont—­well acquainted with Uncle Sam.  All of a sudden he laughed outright, saying I was ignorant of the why and how to do, diplomacy of Washington.  What it is impossible to get you must always say you never wanted; and what is within your reach, always say was far beyond our expectations.  Meantime, be a philosopher, and act with apparent indifference to what is going on around you:  never tell a friend you are worth less than one hundred thousand dollars.  Upon such an hypothesis you may face the General, talk profound (here and there in parenthesis letting out your knowledge of foreign affairs), but never give him to understand that you can extract crooked and put straight ideas into his head—­above all, be sure and feel as independent as a wood-sawyer at two dollars a day.  Play well your face, and a spoil of the game just won will be yours.  Marcy is father of this principle!  Heed not the sympathy between your heart and head,—­while the one feels high never let the other play low.  Accept anything the General may be pleased to offer, adding that it is in respect to his great talent and your anxiety to keep respectable his foreign affairs; and think how you belie your conscience the while.  Now, Smooth, you will see how open-armed the General will be to see me!’

“I told Mr. Pierpont how glad I was to hear it, seeing that it might be the means of putting me through on the same hook.  Without hesitation, he said he would do what he could.  Had I fought in the Mexican war the case would have been different—­had I been true to the South, the case had been very different:  the distinctions here enumerated brought down the scale.  ’However, the General and me are one, having fought by his side in Mexico, and you shall be put through.’  So saying, we proceeded on our way, reaching in a few minutes the White House, the gardens of which we found transplanted with citizens—­set here and there as thick as the gardener’s tulips.  Before the circular carriage-way that sweeps to the great entrance, filed a rampart of moody faces.  Mr. Mulligan said they were there for the study of Botany, he believed.  Near the great portico stood the tall figure of a man plainly dressed in blackest broadcloth; he sauntered about as if contemplating some hopeless game of party.  Another looked as if he had just sprung from a dressing-case to present himself before Grandpapa Marcy, in the hope of his personal appearance making stronger his claims to a very acceptable appointment.  A third had a woe-begone smile on his face, and seemed studying the nature of a plant that would soon need a careful hand.  When accosted concerning his musings, he said he had done battle right manfully for the democracy; and now Mr. Pierce’s only reply was, that his demands were of so hard a nature as to render it impossible for him to knock under.  I told him that I would take the small points of Mr. Pierce’s ideas, and the strong points of Mr. Marcy’s, and from them try to work out the P’s and Q’s of his case.