There can't be no tacks way out in the middle of the floor here, can they?' To make sure, the old blind-pate was going down on his knees to take a mouse-eye view, when all of a sudden he gave a start, and he says, says he: 'Why, 'pears to me, Sammy, _you're standin' on the carpet yourself!_' And so he was--so he was," says the Honest Abe, smiling into the fire, "and that was the why the carpet had stuck fast in so many places." "Now," says the Honest Abe, poking the Democratic chap in the ribs with his knuckles; "if your organization wants me to move vigorously in this war, tell them not to be standing on my carpet all the time. Otherwise, I must still keep tacking about." The Democratic chap had been slowly rising from his chair as this small moral tale drew toward its exciting conclusion, and at the last word he fled the apartment with quivering watch-seal. Our President, my boy, has a tale for every emergency, as a rat-trap has an emergency for every tail. It was on the morning of this same day, that I had a pleasing conversation on the state of our foreign relations with a phlegmatic British chap connected with the English Ministry, who is remaining here for the purpose of beholding anarchy in the North, which he has been requested to immediately communicate to one of Great Britain's morning journals. We were taking Richmond together at Willard's, my boy, and had just been speaking of the English Southern pirate "Alabama" in terms of neutrality, when suddenly the phlegmatic chap drew a roll of silk from one of his pockets, fastened it to his cane, unfurled it before my eyes, and says he: "By the way, sir, 'ow do you like this ere h'original h'idea of mine? Do you see what it is?" "Yes, friend Bifstek," says I, Frenchily, "that is indeed the Black Flag." The chap turned very red in the face, my boy, and says he: "The Black Flag! what a 'orrible h'idea! You must be thinking of the h'Alabama. What h'induces you to suppose such a thing!" [Illustration] "Why," says I, "there's the Skull and Crossbones plain enough." "Skull and Crossbones!!" says he, "why, that's the beautiful Hinglish crest--a crown and sceptres; and this is my new h'original design, ye know, for a new Hinglish Revenue Flag." It was then, my boy, that I discovered my error, and apologized for my obliquity of vision. It was strange, indeed, that I should mistake for a skull the insignia of royalty, even though a crown is not unfrequently found identified with a numskull. On the same Tuesday, my boy, there was a small election in a town just this side of Accomac, and I went down there early in the morning, to the office of the excellent independent evening journal, that I might see the returns as soon as they came in. The editor was talking to two chaps--a Republican and a Democrat--and, says he: