But whilst the old Forty-first Congress is prostrated with a paralytic stroke a great cry is heard from the hungry South. It is declared that the New England and Western States are represented in the leading offices of the House, but nowhere is the voice of the sugar-cane heard. Louisiana and Tennessee have both lifted up their eyes, and refused to be comforted unless room is found for one or the other in the national council. At the same time, between the groans of the dying monarch, merriment and feasting are heard. The present New Hampshire Sergeant-at-Arms is busily engaged in tickling the palates of helpless Congressmen. Across Capitol square, in a house of modest pretension, a table is spread which would make the President’s “incomparable Melah” clasp his hands with joy. It has been proven beyond a doubt that the vote of Congressmen often lies in the stomach, and with this end in view New England has been searched for chaste white pullets to make chicken salad as thorough in its action as a bottle of Spaulding’s glue. And yet, in the very midst of the feasts, a member with a stomach as capacious as a cotton-gin has shown alarming symptoms. His limbs have begun to tremble, and his knees act like the arch in carnival time. His mouth is seen to open without apparent cause, and a sound issues therefrom: “I say, Ordway! Any more chicken salad? I don’t like to bet on the champagne. You can have my vote (hic). Free country! Free carriages! Hip! hip! hooray!” The House is still in session. The sonorous voice of the reading clerk opens the appropriation bill and reads: “To Joseph S. Wilson, for the valuable scientific Museum at the General Land Office, $10,000.”