“Sagacious? surely!” I would have given my word for anything to work free of the Reverend Campbell and that magpie wife, the latter gentlewoman being rusty of plume, strident, and of but a sorry favor of face; to say nothing about her gigglings and chuck-lings; for that vacant dame was like a parrot, with a running rattle of vocalisms, going from gurgle to chirp, as an accompaniment to whatever was said by her lord and master. “Then let us repair to him,” said the Reverend Campbell, raising his hands as if asking a benediction on me and my belongings; “let us hie to him and unbosom ourselves, and may we find him in grace of spirit and well of this mortal body.” We discovered the General in his rooms. We found him in a rather merry spirit for him. He was sitting by his fire, with Peg on a footstool at a corner of the fireplace. Hearing of the General's diet of rice, Peg's mother--she lived over to the south, across that wooded strip, the Mall--holding herself to excel in certain elixirs and cordials and draughts marvelous for maladies stomachic, had sent to the General's relief a bottle of medicine warranted of transcendent merit, and in which dandelion flourished a dominant element. The good lady would trust her drugs to none save Peg; there she was, then, the fairest foot and hand ever to be sent on porter's work or to run an errand with a message. The unexpected sight of Peg sent over me a wave of pleasure. I love the beautiful, have an inborn joy of it, and who or what could be more lovely than our Peg--Peg with her wildrose face? The General glanced up through the tobacco smoke wherewith the rooms were cloudy. Peg had said she loved smoke, and could stand to it like a side of bacon. His look was of half-recognition as it settled upon my company. “The Reverend Campbell, is it not?” said he. “The same, Mr. President,” returned the other, commencing again those bowing motions which had so tortured my soul, his flabby cheeks the while exuding a beady dew; “the same. And here is Deborah, my well-beloved wife, Mr. President.” The magpie one of rumpled feather gained indication by the Reverend Campbell pointing to her with a bulbous forefinger that was somewhat suffering about the nail for lack of care. The magpie one gave the usual proof of her satisfaction with chirp and giggle. “The last time I beheld you, Mr. President,” said the Reverend Campbell, “you and your dear wife sat beneath my words.” The General flinched as though a rude hand touched a wound. He gathered himself, however. “That dear one, Mr. President, has gone from our midst. It is a chastening, Mr. President. Whom the Lord loveth, He chasteneth. It is a loss, Mr. President, but we must summon meekness of spirit. Blessed are the meek in spirit, saith the singer, and they shall inherit the earth. Mr. President, let us pray.”