"Having dispatched the man Dudley on his mission, with many bows and much esteem for his high consideration of my position, and acting on the intimation from Pierce, I packed up my portfolio, and in a Hansom cab made the best of my way to 56, Harley street,--a large mansion, in one of the back rooms of which they said my esteemed friend James Buckhanan had for some time past been burrowed. That is, Mrs. Sprat, who knew all the gossip of the legation, declared such to be the fact. She saw very little indeed of the 'Governor,' whom she believed smothered in his diplomacy, for he appeared never to want anything but the spittoon, and now and then, at long intervals, a clean pair of stockings. Arriving at the door, I rang lustily the bell, and soon there appeared a very stiff flunky, in democratic livery of bright colors, who bowed me into a great hall, and after grinning at me for about a minute, said he reckoned I was a citizen o' the United States. 'From Vermont, I take it?' he continued, in quick succession. I told him it was no matter about that; if he had no objection I would take a look at his governor. While I was deliberating, the best-looking 'yellow fellow' outside of Carolina made his appearance, and immediately commenced taking charge of me. He said he understood diplomacy all up, (having studied dancing and attended Mrs. Sprat's tea-parties for more than two years!) and would put me through if I said the word. Then he added, with a _sang froid_ that seemed quite grateful, that though he wasn't exactly governor of the establishment, he would show me up to the man who was, and under whose dictation Mr. Buckhanan had for peace sake accepted a fifth-rate position. On my motioning him to proceed (he seemed much inclined to affect a good deal of etiquette) the fellow led off, through a long dark passage, crowded with empty Genessee flour barrels, champagne baskets, boxes of cast off pipes (breathing redolent of tobacco), decrepit arm-chairs, old foils and boxing-gloves, numerous empty beer-bottles, a lot of worn-out dancing slippers, and a quantity of second-hand nightgowns and side-saddles. What use diplomacy had for these abused relics we leave the reader to conjecture. Opening a door on the left, my guide with a bow accompanying a graceful bend of the body, ushered me into a spacious room, with the announcement:--'A gemman fum de States, Mr. Prompt!' No Mr. Prompt could I see, such was the state of the atmosphere. In fact, I was set upon by a perfect fog of tobacco smoke.