‘Of Bolt, morally,’ my great-uncle would say, ‘nothing have I to say.’  This said, he would rub his hands awhile, and then continue:  ’He was correct of person—­extremely so—­had fine limbs, was tall of stature, courtly in his movements, spoke with great preciseness, and a clear, musical accent; had model features, was not a little vain of them, and always employed a tailor prince, who dressed him with exact taste, but at an enormous cost.  His motion, too, was as graceful as needs be; indeed nature had done well her part, lavishing on his person a goodly number of those endowments so necessary to a modern diplomatist, whose chief function is to ornament the drawing-room, and create a flutter among certain of the fair sex.  You must understand that in Europe, as well as America, the corps diplomatic rules the roost of fashion, and, in addition to its enrolling within its precious precincts numbers of the legitimate aristocracy, creates a great fluttering among that of a more doubtful hue, who seek it and worship it as the idol of their ambition.  It always reminded me of birds with weak minds permitting themselves to be charmed by snakes.  However, be this as it may, the knowing ones of York State (Bolt was a three-quarter blood Dutchman, and from that State!) declared it no scandal, when they said his great popularity with the ladies more than made up for his lack of law knowledge.  Honester people said, if his mind was not exactly Websterian, there could not be a doubt that nature had intended him for the profession of diplomacy rather than one requiring more profound thought.  His make-up was unexceptionable, his smile exquisite.  Then he had dark moustaches, which he would gracefully finger into such an exact curve; and he had his small whiskers so neatly combed, and every hair on his head lay in unexceptional smoothness.  The legation was not a little proud of Bolt, and on drawing-room days, when he blazed out in his gold lace and sword, would delight in watching the many dark, languishing eyes that would ogle him over the down of gorgeous fans.  Bolt was not dead to this admiration, for we learned, from the constant wandering of his eye, that he rather appreciated his own popularity.  For a lady to say she did not admire Mr. Secretary Bolt, was strong evidence of her want of taste.  I do not choose to enlighten the world as to how Bolt came to be Secretary of Legation!’ Here the old man would make a desperate flourish with his crutch, by which I was led to believe that the means were none of the cleanest; in fact that they were of a character very similar to those used at this day, and to which may be traced the cause of certain of Mr. Pierce’s diplomatists having so distinguished themselves in Europe.  ‘Zounds!’ the old man would continue, testily making a cross on the floor with his crutch, ’a desperate set was soon made on our Bolt by that little world of fashion and intrigue which, lizard-like, crawls about our Legations, and did more particularly so about the one he honored