I bowed and stepped aside for him to pass on. He mounted with easy
agility, but checked his over-willing horse for a parting remark: "Sir,
I am pleased to have met you. I shall be more pleased to meet you at my
table this evening."

Before I could recover from my astonishment he had touched his hat
civilly, and was cantering away across country.

CHAPTER III

AT THE PRESIDENT'S HOUSE

It will not be thought strange that my invitation to dine with the
President put me in high conceit with myself, and this notwithstanding
such information as I had already acquired as to the looseness and
informality of the White House etiquette since the retirement of
President Adams. Although Mr. Jefferson's custom was to invite many
kinds of persons to his elegant little dinners, the guests were
generally selected for their compatibility.

On the other hand, my elation was tempered by the fact that another
result of my chance meeting with His Excellency in the woods had been a
sharp dashing of the hopes which had brought me to Washington. I refer
to the matter of General Wilkinson's contemplated expedition to the
West. Having reasons of my own for not wishing to apply to the
Commander-in-Chief for the leadership of the expedition, I had come on
to the Federal City in the fond hope of receiving the appointment from
the Secretary of War. Fate had given me the opportunity of making my
modest request direct to the source of all Federal patronage, with the
results which have been stated.

It was therefore without undue elation that, dressed in my small-clothes
and new coat, my best shirt-frill, and highest pudding cravat, I jogged
north along the redoubtable avenue which, only three days before, had
seen me ride south in my buckskins. My horse, feeling his oats after his
days in stall, fretted at the sober pace I set him. A word or even a
touch would have put him into full gallop, for all the depth of the
mire. Yet, even had I not been in so grave a frame of mind, I had my
silk stockings and fine buckled shoes to consider.

In due time we came to the grassy common about the Presidential mansion,
and entered the iron gate in the high rock wall built by Mr. Jefferson
to enclose the noble building. On dismounting, my first surprise of the
evening was that I should be ushered in by a white attendant. I had
expected that Mr. Jefferson would be served by slaves from his great
plantation at Monticello. Later I learned that he pref