Admire that grim humor, reader--the firm stroke with which this Aristophanes of 1864 drew my friend, Mr. Blocque. See how he reproduced every trait, delineated the worthy in his exact colors, and, at the foot of the picture, wrote, as it were, “Here is going to be the founder of ‘one of the old families,’--one of the ornaments of the future, who will come out of the war rich, and be a costly vase, not a vessel of dishonor, as at present.” Grim satirist! You saw far, and I think we want you to-day! VII. UNDER THE CROSSED SWORDS. I had dined with Mr. Blocque; two days afterward I went to sup with Judge Conway. Does the reader remember his appearance at Culpeper Court-House, on the night of the ball after the review in June, 1863? On that evening he had excited my astonishment by abruptly terminating the interview between his daughter and Captain Davenant; and I little supposed that I would ever penetrate the motive of that action, or become intimate with the performer. Yet the chance of war had decreed that both events should occur. All will be, in due time, explained to the reader’s satisfaction; at present we will simply make the acquaintance of one of the most distinguished statesmen of the epoch. My friendly relations with the judge came about in a very simple manner. He was an intimate associate of the gentleman at whose house I was staying; had taken great interest in my recovery after Yellow Tavern; and therefore had done me the honor to bestow his friendship upon me. On the day to which we have now come, Judge Conway had made a speech of surpassing eloquence, in Congress, on the condition of the country, and I had listened, thrilling at the brave voice which rang out its sonorous, “All’s well!” amid the storm. I was now going to call on the statesman to express my admiration of his eloquent appeal, and converse upon the exciting topics of the hour. I found him in a mansion not far from the splendid residence of Mr. Blocque. Here he occupied “apartments,” or rather a single room,--and, in 1864, my dear reader, that was a very common mode of living. Like others, Judge Conway was too poor to occupy a whole house,--even too poor to board. He had a single apartment, containing a few chairs and a bed; was waited on by a maid; and, I think, prepared his own meals, which were plain to poverty. He met me at the door of his bare and poor-looking apartment, extending his hand with the gracious and stately courtesy of the ancient régime. His figure was small, slight, and bent by age; his face, thin and pale; his hair nearly white, and falling in long curls upon his shoulders; under the gray brows sparkled keen, penetrating, but benignant eyes.