pretty fast now, but just get the Women's Rights Societies to blow him a little, and he'll go fast enough for any Young American party out.' After leaving the old woman, who said she was nearly related to General Cass, I went politely to the other girls, bidding them, one after another, a square down good-morning, ending with a social chat and a smile for them all. On the opposite side of the smoky kitchen stood the grim figure of a nigger wench, as big as the north side of a Dutch lighthouse, and as saucy as Benton's goat. The way she was making the wool fly over a sas-pan as big as old Zack Coffin's ile kettle was a caution to nervous folks. 'What on earth have ye got in that, eh?' I inquires, peeping over the side into the half-scalding foam. "'What business is that to you?' sounds, like thunder rolling away in the distance, from t'other side the cauldron. Looking up almost dumb-founded I espied the hard phiz of the General, in dim outline through the fog and steam, stirring away at a massive ladle. "'Pierce! Lord love yer soul--is it you?' says I, my feelings rising into a rhapsody of affection for him: 'Give us yer hand.' "'Yes, it's me; just come round here if you can see your way through,' says he; and I fumbled my way round, and got him by the hand, and had a hearty good shake, just for old acquaintance sake. "'But what in the name of Columbus are you doing here?' I inquired, touching him on the elbow, significantly. "'Well!' he answers, rather undecidedly, 'just helping prepare this pot of mixture for the black pig.' He kept on moving his big ladle with one hand and throwing in additional feed with the other, from a bucket that stood close by.