Women distrust men too much in general, and not enough in particular.—Philibert Commerson.

Now all the more was it necessary for me and my friend from Oregon to hasten on to Washington. I say nothing further of the arguments I employed with him, and nothing of our journey to Washington, save that we made it hastily as possible. It was now well toward the middle of April, and, brief as had been my absence, I knew there had been time for many things to happen in Washington as well as in Montreal.

Rumors abounded, I found as soon as I struck the first cities below the Canadian line. It was in the air now that under Calhoun there would be put before Congress a distinct and definite attempt at the annexation of Texas. Stories of all sorts were on the streets; rumors of the wrath of Mr. Clay; yet other rumors of interesting possibilities at the coming Whig and Democratic conventions. Everywhere was that strange, ominous, indescribable tension of the atmosphere which exists when a great people is moved deeply. The stern figure of Calhoun, furnishing courage for a people, even as he had for a president, loomed large in the public prints.

Late as it was when I reached Washington, I did not hesitate to repair at once to the residence of Mr. Calhoun; and I took with me as my best adjutant my strange friend Von Rittenhofen, who, I fancied, might add detailed information which Mr. Calhoun would find of value. We were admitted to Mr. Calhoun, and after the first greetings he signified that he would hear my report. He sat, his long, thin hands on his chair arm, as I went on with my story, his keen eyes scanning also my old companion as I spoke. I explained what the latter knew regarding Oregon. I saw Mr. Calhoun's eyes kindle. As usual, he did not lack decision.

"Sir," said he to Von Rittenhofen presently, "we ourselves are young, yet I trust not lacking in a great nation's interest in the arts and sciences. It occurs to me now that in yourself we have opportunity to add to our store of knowledge in respect to certain biological features."

The old gentleman rose and bowed. "I thank you for the honor of your flattery, sir," he began; but Calhoun raised a gentle hand.

"If it would please you, sir, to defer your visit to your own country for a time, I can secure for you a situation in our department in biology, where your services would be of extreme worth to us. The salary would also allow you to continue your private researches into the life of our native tribes."

Von Rittenhofen positively glowed at this. "Ach, what an honor!" he began again.

"Meantime," resumed Calhoun, "not to mention the value which that research would have for us, we could also find use, at proper remuneration, for your private aid in making up a set of maps of that western country which you know so well, and of which even I myself am so ignorant. I want to know the distances, the topography, the means of travel. I want to know the peculiarities of that country of Oregon. It would take me a year to send a messenger, for at best it requires six months to make the outbound passage, and in the winter the mountains are impassable. If you could, then, take service with us now, we should be proud to make you such return as your scientific attainments deserve."

Few could resist the persuasiveness of Mr. Calhoun's speech, certainly not Von Rittenhofen, who thus found offered him precisely what he would have desired. I was pleased to see him so happily situated and so soon. Presently we despatched him down to my hotel, where I promised later to make him more at home. In his elation over the prospect he now saw before him, the old man fairly babbled. Germany seemed farthest from his mind. After his departure, Calhoun again turned to me.

"I want you to remain, Nicholas," said he, "because I have an appointment with a gentleman who will soon be present."

"Rather a late hour, sir," I ventured. "Are you keeping faith with Doctor Ward?"

"I have no time for hobbies," he exclaimed, half petulantly. "What I must do is this work. The man we are to meet to-night is Mr. Polk. It is important."

"You would not call Mr. Polk important?" I smiled frankly, and Calhoun replied in icy kind.

"You can not tell how large a trouble may be started by a small politician," said he. "At least, we will hear what he has to say. 'Twas he that sought the meeting, not myself."

Perhaps half an hour later, Mr. Calhoun's old negro man ushered in this awaited guest, and we three found ourselves alone in one of those midnight conclaves which went on in Washington even then as they do to-day. Mr. Polk was serious as usual; his indecisive features wearing the mask of solemnity, which with so many passed as wisdom.

"I have come, Mr. Calhoun," said he—when the latter had assured him that my presence would entail no risk to him—"to talk over this Texas situation."

"Very well," said my chief. "My own intentions regarding Texas are now of record."

"Precisely," said Mr. Polk. "Now, is it wise to make a definite answer in that matter yet? Would it not be better to defer action until later—until after, I may say—"

"Until after you know what your own chances will be, Jim?" asked Mr. Calhoun, smiling grimly.

"Why, that is it, John, precisely, that is it exactly! Now, I don't know what you think of my chances in the convention, but I may say that a very large branch of the western Democracy is favoring me for the nomination." Mr. Polk pursed a short upper lip and looked monstrous grave. His extreme morality and his extreme dignity made his chief stock in trade. Different from his master, Old Hickory, he was really at heart the most aristocratic of Democrats, and like many another so-called leader, most of his love for the people really was love of himself.

"Yes, I know that some very strange things happen in politics," commented Calhoun, smiling.

"But, God bless me! you don't call it out of the way for me to seek the nomination? Some one must be president! Why not myself? Now, I ask your support."

"My support is worth little, Jim," said my chief. "But have you earned it? You have never consulted my welfare, nor has Jackson. I had no majority behind me in the Senate. I doubt even the House now. Of what use could I be to you?"

"At least, you could decline to do anything definite in this Texas matter."

"Why should a man ever do anything indefinite, Jim Polk?" asked Calhoun, bending on him his frosty eyes.

"But you may set a fire going which you can not stop. The people may get out of hand before the convention!"

"Why should they not? They have interests as well as we. Do they not elect us to subserve those interests?"

"I yield to no man in my disinterested desire for the welfare of the American people," began Polk pompously, throwing back the hair from his forehead.

"Of course not," said Calhoun grimly. "My own idea is that it is well to give the people what is already theirs. They feel that Texas belongs to them."

"True," said the Tennesseean, hesitating; "a good strong blast about our martial spirit and the men of the Revolution—that is always good before an election or a convention. Very true. But now in my own case—"

"Your own case is not under discussion, Jim. It is the case of the United States! I hold a brief for them, not for you or any other man!"

"How do you stand in case war should be declared against Mexico?" asked Mr. Polk. "That ought to be a popular measure. The Texans have captured the popular imagination. The Alamo rankles in our nation's memory. What would you say to a stiff demand there, with a strong show of military force ............