“I know the mass of those patriots below, and rightly appreciate them, for I have been behind the curtain--have helped some of them to make good English of their speeches to Bunkum,--have seen their tricks to get office, and their tricks to keep them,--have seen the way the cat jumps, and seen it jump too; in short, I'm up to the whole 'wool pulling' system, and I advise them to go it while they can, for the people may one day find them out, and then their spreading here will end in a sprawl at home.” He had gradually grown warm in his soliloquy, until his voice became audible, when the speaker struck his hammer, the sergeant-at-arms started for the gallery, and John and his old friend started for the stairs. On the next morning the two departed west, leaving the seat of government and its official inhabitants, for the broad land of promise which lay beyond. “What think you of the capital?” enquired the old gentleman, as they journeyed onward. “The worst,” answered our hero, and assuming a Timon of Athens attitude, he added, “I have turned my back upon it in disgust. It is a theatre of the worst passions in our nature--chicanery lurks within the cabinet, distrust and envy without, while fawning sycophancy environs it around and about. To sum it up, it is a little of government--a great deal of 'bunkum,' sprinkled with a high seasoning of political juggling, the whole of which has but one end and aim--the spoils of Uncle Sam.” “Bravo!” exclaimed his old friend, “you will have to get elected from some of the Western states, and set about cleaning the Augean stable.” “Not I,” answered John. “It's too dirty a job, and besides, the sovereign people claim it as their peculiar privilege, let them smell it out for themselves.” Discussing thus, things political, they jogged on to their place of parting, without incident worthy of noting by the way. John still held to his desire of visiting the Mississippi country, and his old friend insisted on paying his expenses to Cincinnati, our hero easily yielded to his proposition, with the understanding that it was to be paid when they again met. “I may one day see you in Cleveland,” said John, “with fortune buckled on my back, and if it should be there, 'whether I will or no,' be assured I shall not cut my old friends.”