Meanwhile the Honorable Budlong Dinks sat in an armchair at the other end of the piazza with several other honorable gentlemen—­Major Scuppernong from Carolina, Colonel le Fay from Louisiana, Captain Lamb from Pennsylvania, General Arcularius Belch of New York, besides Captain Jones, General Smith, Major Brown, Colonel Johnson, from other States, and several honorable members of Congress, including, and chief of all, the Honorable B.J.  Ele, a leading statesman from New York, with whom Mr. Dinks passed as much time as possible, and who was the chief oracle of the wise men in armchairs who came to the springs to drink the waters, to humor their wives and daughters in their foolish freaks for fashion and frivolity, and who smiled loftily upon the gay young people who amused themselves with setting up ten-pins and knocking them down, while the wise men devoted themselves to talking politics and showing each other, from day to day, the only way in which the country could be made great and glorious, and fulfill its destiny.

“I am not so clear about General Jackson’s policy,” said the Honorable Budlong Dinks, with the cautious wisdom of a statesman.

“Well, Sir, I am clear enough about it,” replied Major Scuppernong.  “It will ruin this country just as sure as that,” and the Major with great dexterity directed a stream of saliva which fell with unerring precision upon the small stone in the gravel walk at which it was evidently aimed.

The Honorable Budlong Dinks watched the result of the illustration with deep interest, and shook his head gravely when he saw that the stone was thoroughly drenched by the salivary cascade.  He seemed to feel the force of the argument.  But he was not in a position to commit himself.

“Now, I think,” said the Honorable B.J.  Ele, “that it is the only thing that can save the country.”

“Ah! you do,” said the Honorable B. Dinks.

And so they kept it up day after day, pausing in the intervals to smile at the ardor with which the women played their foolish game of gossip and match-making.

When Mrs. Dinks withdrew from her idle employments to the invigorating air of the Honorable B.’s society, he tapped her cheek sometimes with his finger—­as he had read great men occasionally did when they were with their wives in moments of relaxation from intellectual toil—­asked her what would become of the world if it were given up to women, and by his manner refreshed her consciousness of the honor under which she labored in being Mrs. Budlong Dinks.

The weaker vessel smiled consciously, as if he very well knew that was the one particular thing which under no conceivable circumstances could she forget.

“Budlong, I really think Alfred ought to keep a horse.”

“My dear!” replied the Honorable B., in a tone of mingled reproach, amusement, contempt, and surprise.