Not lightly would I judge an ancient friend. For a time I said nothing to anybody of the outrage, hoping that perhaps the Secretary would open his eyes to the true character of the document he had signed and volunteer some friendly explanation. Meanwhile a proposition to resume negotiations was received from England, and the Secretary, it seems, desired to confer with me on the subject; but there was evident consciousness on his part that he had done wrong,--for, instead of coming to me at once, he sent for Mr. Patterson, of the Senate, and, telling him that he wished to confer with me, added, that he did not know precisely what were his relations with me and how I should receive him. Within a brief fortnight I had been in conference with him at the State Department and had dined at his house, besides about the same time making a call there. Yet he was in doubt about his relations with me. Plainly because, since the conference, the dinner, and the call, the document signed by him had been communicated to the Senate, and the conscience-struck Secretary did not know how I should take it. Mr. Patterson asked me what he should report. I replied, that, should the Secretary come to my house, he would be received as an old friend, and that at any time I should be at his service for consultation on public business, but that I could not conceal my deep sense of personal wrong received from him absolutely without reason or excuse. That this message was communicated by Mr. Patterson I cannot doubt,--for the Secretary came to my house, and there was a free conference. How frankly I spoke on public questions, without one word on other things, the Secretary knows. He will remember if any inquiry, remark, or allusion escaped from me, except in reference to public business. The interview was of business and nothing else.