[Mr. Stanton, bowing with graceful dignity, seats himself at the table.]

Mr. Seward (breaking the momentary pause in his jocular way). Remember, Mr. Secretary of War, you are now in the old chair of Floyd and Davis:  and sit thee down as if on nettles.

Mr. Chase. Aye; but out of the ‘nettle danger’ pluck thou ’the flower safety.’

Mr. Stanton (with emphasis). Believe me, I appreciate not so much the honor as the responsibilities of my new position.  I claim a good omen, for, as I turned just now towards the gate, a little boy, seated upon one of the granite blocks for the new building hereabout, trolled out as my salutation the lines of the national air,—­

  ’Then conquer we must, for our cause it is just,
  And this be our motto, In God is our trust.’

Mr. Welles. Amen!

Mr. Bates. I suppose you passed not a few interesting hours in this room at the twilight of Mr. Buchanan’s day, whilst holding my portfolio?

Mr. Stanton. Too momentous to be called by me interesting.  Posterity, reading, will say that.  And those twilight hours, as you felicitously term them, were followed by anxious vigils.  But these belong to confidences.

Mr. Lincoln (abruptly and familiarly). Talking of confidences, what do you think of the news about Zollicoffer?

Mr. Stanton. It appears reliable, and is a most providential success.  Eastern Tennessee was tending to the position which Lucknow sustained towards the Indian rebellion.  It is now relieved, and a fortnight or so will bring intelligence that the whole of it has practically joined forces to Western Virginia.  I regard it as of the highest importance to prove, by industrious acts, that we recognize and reward the sufferings of these American Albigenses in their Cumberland fastnesses.  How grandly would swell the old Miltonian hymn, properly paraphrased, when a brigade of the loyal Tennessians may sing

  ’Avenge, Columbia, thy slaughtered hosts, whose bones
  Lie scattered on the Western mountains cold,’

and so forth!

Mr. Lincoln. Now, you are stepping into Seward’s province. He is the poet of my cabinet!

Mr. Seward. Granted for the argument:  but there is more truth than poetry in what our new brother has just said.  Throughout how many weary months have those brave thousands who voted against secession awaited the crack of our rifles and our cannon-smoke—­true music and sacred incense to them.

Mr. Blair (practically). Next to the border States we must take care of the newspapers.

Mr. Welles. Ah, those newspapers:  bothersome as urchins in a nursery, and yet as necessary to the perfect development of life’s enjoyment.

Mr. Chase. Well said for the navy.  But what do you say of the magnificent Neckars, whose monied articles from Boston to Chicago would swamp the treasury in a week, if they were believed in?