over his hand, and was about taking mine, when I warmly embraced his, saying—­’Give me you yet, General!  Messrs. John, Louis & Co., having consolidated their sublime power, must not entertain the idea of making a menace over here.  We have no means of questioning the legitimate qualities of this sublime joint-stock company; but we would advise its keeping decidedly cool about matters this side of the big water, lest its stock get to a very low-water mark.  This old flounder, nevertheless, is a hard case for cooks, nor in my opinion will he be made softer by that celebrated French cook of yours, whose process is that of too suddenly piling on the charcoal.  In fact, I believe it not untrue that in political cooking a Frenchman is more a man of muss than method.  This you, General, might have known before you engaged him to cater for Spanish appetites.  In truth, (it must be told now and then, General), that black pig you so fondly nurse, and which you can neither tame nor make grateful, is sacrificing us to his poisonous litter.  And, too, he is dividing his own pen; and when pigs become divided among themselves, refuse to eat out of one trough, and threaten to devour each other, they are sure to become an easy prey to the bore of fractional sovereignity.’  With the exception of the General, all listened attentively while I spoke:  he, exhibiting little concern, arose with the calmness of moonlight, and was about to make some remarks, as the flounder again opened wide his mouth, which produced a pause.  ‘You are right,’ joined in the flounder; ’that black pig’s love of territorial feasts knows no bounds, nor will he stop at that point where justice sets the limit; he will continue his insatiate trade until common sense and generous sentiment interpose and exterminate him.  Here is another paper for you—­read it!  It is the protest of the people of free, enlightened, and happy New England:  they protest against being swallowed up in your black pig’s bowels!’ Again the flounder mechanically closed its mouth.

“’And my old governor across the water will not view with indifference this black brute’s ever-threatening disturbances.  He watches long, waits patiently, moves cautiously, but enters upon the execution of his plans with monstrous method,’ interrupted Littlejohn, who spoke on behalf of his nation, and for the status quo of nationalities in general.

“‘I say, neighbor,’ rejoins Mr. Sam Blowaway, a leader of the national Young American party, ’pears how, if your old chap over there attempts that game, he’ll get himself boots deep into a scrape he’ll not find it so easy to claw out on.’  And Sam got right up, and looked brimstone at him, straight across the table.

“’I’m methodical, but not easily repulsed:  impulsive acts do not constitute valor,’ returned John, rising coolly and dispassionately.

“’Grandpapa Marcy now got up to say a word or two, but Mr. Pierce had the floor, and demanded—­Order!  Order, gentlemen!—­Order in the White House!  My boys want to get me into trouble, but I feel that I can yet regulate my own household!’ he rejoined, with a peremptory tone that excited surprise.