d planters left tobacco,
wine, julep, and toddy to press around his temporary throne. Every day
at this hour Lynch mounted this height, and he dearly loved the
transient importance. Now he solemnly unfastened the bags, drew out a
great handful of matter, looked it over, amid laughing clamour, with
pursed lips and one raised, deprecating hand, then in a cheerful,
wheezing voice began to call out names,--"Major Du Val--Major Baker--Mr.
Allan--Mr. Munford--Mr. Chavallie--Colonel Harvie--Major Gibbon--Dr.
Foushee--Mr. Warrington--Major Willis--Mr. Wickham--Mr. Rand--"

There was a moment's check while Lynch craned his neck. "Mr. Rand's not
here, I believe?"

"Lewis Rand,--no!" quoth Mr. Wickham. "What should he do in a mere
coffee house with mere earthly newspapers? He's walking somewhere in a
laurel garden in the cool of the evening."

Rand's voice came out of the depths of the room that was now just light
enough to see the written word. "I am here, Mr. Lynch." He rose and came
forward. "Good-afternoon, gentlemen--good-afternoon, Mr. Wickham!"

"Did you hear?" asked Wickham coolly. "Well, it is a laurel garden, you
know! Mr. Lynch, let's have candles--"

"Yes, sir," said Mr. Lynch. "Colonel Ambler--Mr. Carrington--Mr.
Rutherfoord--Mr. Page--Mr. Cary--Mr. Fairfax Cary--"

"They are coming later," said a voice.

"Thank you, Mr. Mason--Mr. Carter--Mr. Call--Mr. Cabell--the Abbe
Dubois-"

The list went on. Candles were lighted on every table and on the
mantel-shelf, though outside the windows the west was yet red. Two
negroes brought and tossed into the cavernous fireplace a mighty backlog
of hickory. The sound of the fire mingled with the rustle of large thin
sheets of paper, the crisp turning of Auroras, National Intelligencers,
Alexandria Expositors, Gazettes of the United States, excited journals
of an excited time, with softly uttered interjections and running
comment, and with now and then a high, clear statement of fact or
rumour. At home, the hour's burning question was that of English and
Spanish depredation at sea, attack upon neutral ships, confiscation and
impressment of American sailors. In Washington, the resolutions of Gregg
and Nicholson were under consideration, and all things looked toward the
Embargo of a year later. Abroad, the sign in the skies was still
Napoleon--Napoleon--Napoleon! Now, at Lynch's, as the crowd increased
and the first absorbed perusal of script and print gave way to exchange
of