“’Now, General, I reckon how you didn’t get the hang of this ’ere establishment all on a sudden?  Seems to me how I’d like to be President of these United States about two months, merely to have the satisfaction of straightening the cross-grain of political parties; they have got so so crooked now-a-days.’  The President just then said he would take my hat, and hoped I make myself quite at home.  As everything seemed so comfortable, I had not the slightest objection.  ‘Now, Smooth,’ he reiterated, spreading his length on a magnificent sofa, ’I am anxious to hear how the Young American party progresses down your way; and you must tell me all about it.  I intend to give you a roving commission as my minister in general.’

“‘I’ll do that,’ I replied, and just when I was getting the story fixed square, he interrupted me by saying—­’One moment, Mr. Smooth; we are going to have a flounder breakfast—­it’s the same old fellow you saw Uncle Jeff and Guth cooking yesterday morning,—­they’ve got him pretty well browned—­You must join us.’

“‘Well,—­have no objection; but tell us, General, how is the missus?’

“‘Right well, Smooth; she’ll be delighted to see you.’

“’And so will I to see the missus; I know’d her when she warn’t bigger nor Cousin Obadiah’s Jane, and didn’t think no more about being Mrs. President of these United States nor my missus.’  In answer to which, the General said a respectable man might as well be President as anything else—­we all know how to be.  Here we joined arms, and like jolly fellows of a stripe, took a few turns up and down the apartment.  ‘Well! here’s pure democracy,’ thought I to myself.  Taking Mr. President Pierce’s arm doubled my independence—­made me feel that I was the left wing of his brightest hope.  Having talked over a few small matters of foreign policy, we sauntered together into one of the largest, and longest, and handsomest breakfast rooms this side of Texas.  A table of great length stretched across its centre, upon which was arranged in profusion, Georgia potatoes, New Hampshire bacon, Virginia oysters and fried eels, South Carolina rice cakes, and Cape Cod fish balls—­all strong incentives to the stomach of a hungry politician.  Trim waiters stood round, like statues tailored and anxiously waiting a guest’s nod.  As I cast a bird’s eye glance down the scene, in popped the General’s missus, all calm, and with an air of motherly gentleness that inspired me with lofty reflections on woman’s mission.  As she approached with her hand extended, and such a sweet smile on her face, I could not resist a salutation thus earnest, and grasping it, gave it a good, warm-hearted shake.  She said great was her joy at seeing Mr. Smooth—­plain Solomon Smooth.  She could not feel more joy were I an Emperor—­no not even were I a governor of Hungary, who, having lost the chance of winning a diadem, would Uncle Sam lent him aid to regain it.  In another minute the gong sounded, the great doors at the opposite end