The little man seated himself without any hesitation in an arm-chair, and I rose, saying that I feared to take up Mr. Clay's time.
“Oh, no, no!” said he, politely; “it is so refreshing to see ladies! But these fellows—I hate them!” and made a gesture towards the little man which would have sent him out of the room or have knocked him down if he could rightly have felt it. But he sate there fast-rooted to the ground with his knob-stick in his hand, determined not to move, and I felt it necessary to leave the weary statesman to the witchcraft.
Clay, who is extremely popular, allows every one who comes, to see him, and is thus overwhelmed by people who take up his time and make demands upon his services. He is at the present moment more irritable and impatient than he has ever been known before. The opposition he meets with may very well be the cause of it. What a life! And yet this it is for which men strive!
I visited the library of the Capitol to-day with the senator of Georgia, Judge Berrion, a witty and acute-minded man; a man who holds extreme pro-slavery views, but belonging to the class of Patriarchs I believe. The library is a large, handsome hall, with a glorious view; it is a public place of meeting during the sitting of Congress, where people may rest themselves from the affairs of state, talk with their acquaintances, &c. Here may be seen, every day, sitting in the recess of a window, at a table covered with books and papers, a lady, of about middle age, an elegant figure, refined countenance, and agreeable expression. She seems to be always occupied, and to be in connection with several of the influential members of Congress, and there she sits watching the progress of her own affairs. What does she desire—what does she wish?
She wishes to have ten millions of dollars, from the lands in the West—as an annual fund, to be appropriated
