Mr. Blocque ceased, and smoothing down his snowy shirt bosom, pushed the wine. At the same moment, an alabaster clock on the marble mantelpiece struck seven. “So late?” said Colonel Desperade. “I have an appointment at the war office!” Mr. Blocque drew out a magnificent gold watch. “The clock is fast,” he said, “keep your seats, gentlemen,--unless you fancy going to the theatre. My private box is at your disposal, and carriages will be ready in a few minutes.” As the charming little gentleman spoke, he led the way back to the drawing-room--the folding doors flanked by silent and respectful servants as the guests passed in. In five minutes, coffee and liqueurs were served; both were superb, the white sugar sparkled like crystal in the silver dish, and the cream in the solid jug was yellow and as thick as a syrup. “Shall it be the theatre, gentlemen?” said Mr. Blocque, with winning smiles. “We can amuse ourselves with cards for an hour, as the curtain does not rise before eight.” And he pointed to a silver basket on the centre table of carved walnut, surmounted by a slab of variegated marble. I looked, and saw the crowning wonder. The silver basket contained piles of gold coin and greenbacks! Not a trace of a Confederate note was visible in the mass! Packs of fresh cards were brought quickly by a servant, on a silver waiter; the guests helped themselves to the coin and bank notes; in ten minutes they were playing furiously. As I do not play, I rose and took my leave. Mr. Blocque accompanied me to the door, smiling sweetly to the last. “Come again very soon, my dear colonel,” he said, squeezing my hand, “my poor house, and all in it, is at your service at all times!” I thanked my host, shook hands, and went out into the darkness,--determined never to return. I had had an excellent dinner, and, physically, had never felt better. Morally, I must say, I felt contaminated, for, unfortunately, I had begun to think of Lee’s hungry soldiers, lying in rags, in the Petersburg trenches. “Eight o’clock! All is well!” came from the sentinel, as I passed by the capitol. IV. JOHN M. DANIEL. On the day after this scene, a trifling matter of business led me to call on John M. Daniel, editor of the _Examiner_.