little game of shuttle-cock with him, just for his own amusement, while his executive victim shrieked most piteously, expecting every succeeding surge would land him beneath the surface of the boiling mass.  The old nigger wench had fainted at the sight, and lay sprawled on the floor, as Marcy, making a grab at Mr. Pierce’s breeches at a moment when the savage brute was giving a last vault ere he landed his victim into the scalding homony, tripped his toe and brought his length upon the floor beneath the pig’s hind legs.  ‘It’s all gone!’ exclaimed the General; and in another minute nothing was seen save the soles of his boots protruding above the boil-surface.  The surly brute, having generously moistened Grandpapa Marcy’s head, stood, his fore-feet on the rim of the cauldron, gazed after his struggling victim, and held his head high aloft in triumph.  This brought Uncle Dib to the rescue.  After raising Grandpapa, with limbs extended, they drew forth the half-cooked body, reeking with the black pig’s swill, and laid it on the kitchen floor, the ungrateful quadruped walking victoriously away.  Satisfied that I had seen enough for one day, I sought my way back to the National, where I contemplated the next move necessary to my mission.

CHAPTER VIII.

MR. SOLOMON SMOOTH TAKES A FISH BREAKFAST.

“Well, Uncle Sam, I reckoned I’d seen enough of the kitchen arrangements; so I left them scraping the General—­that is, getting off the injured outside, in order to see what really he was made of, and what he had beneath the undefinable cover.  When in Washington, there’s nothing like going ahead; and if you can look a man into respect for you, so much the better.  Dignitary or no dignitary won’t do; you must always profess to be a distinguished individual.  Well, on the strength of the invitation extended by Jeff—­to take a fish breakfast on the following morning, when it was expected the flounder would be done brown, I again repaired to the White House, and after pushing my way through all kinds of passages and doorways, found myself in a gorgeous sort of establishment.

“‘Your lookin for somethin, I take it?’ said a trim figure, whose face rather bordered on the brassy.

“’Well!  I reckon I am.  Can you tell a stray citizen where the General hangs out in the morning?’ I replied, as he confronted me and paused.

“‘Sartin!’ he rejoined, interrupting me, and at the same time looking very sociable, as if he wanted to have a talk on politics.  Nevertheless, it was getting close upon the hour of breakfast; so he takes me by the arm, and stepping through a frickazeed passage up to a large door which opened into a ponderously furnished room, ’I’ll take your card, sir!’ continued he, with a low bow and a motion of the hand to sit down.

“Didn’t have a card at hand, but chalked down Mr. Solomon Smooth, from Cape Cod, on a piece of thick paper per, that suited all the purposes.