ad Room thrice a week, and there is water to be had in the
bath-room--and glasses. Mr. Bixby also finds time to do some of the
scouting about the rotunda and lobbies, for which he is justly
celebrated, and to drill his regiment every day. The Honorable Heth
Sutton, M.C.,--who held the bridge in the Woodchuck Session,--is there
also, sitting in a corner, swelled with importance, smoking big Florizel
cigars which come from--somewhere. There are, indeed, many great and
battle-scarred veterans who congregate in that room--too numerous and
great to mention; and saunterers in the Capitol Park opposite know when a
council of war is being held by the volumes of smoke which pour out of
the window, just as the Romans are made cognizant by the smoking of a
chimney of when another notable event takes place.

Who, then, are left to frequent the Throne Room? Is that ancient seat of
power deserted, and does Jethro Bass sit there alone behind the curtains,
in his bitterness, thinking of other bright June days that are gone?

Of all those who had been amazed when Jethro Bass suddenly emerged from
his retirement and appeared in the capital some months before, none were
more thunderstruck than certain gentlemen who had been to Coniston
repeatedly, but in vain, to urge him to make this very fight. The most
important of these had been Mr. Balch, president of the "Down East" Road,
and the representatives of two railroads of another state. They had at
last offered Jethro fabulous sums to take charge of their armies in the
field--sums, at least, that would seem fabulous to many people, and had
seemed so to them. When they heard that the lion had roused and shaken
himself and had unaccountably come forth of his own accord, they hastened
to the state capital to renew their offers. Another shock, but of a
different kind, was in store for them. Mr. Balch had not actually driven
the pack-mules, laden with treasure, to the door of the Pelican House,
where Jethro might see them from his window; but he requested a private
audience, and it was probably accidental that the end of his personal
check-book protruded a little from his pocket. He was a big,
coarse-grained man, Mr. Balch, who had once been a brakeman, and had
risen by what is known as horse sense to the presidency of his road.
There was a wonderful sunset beyond the Capitol, but Mr. Balch did not
talk about the sunset, although Jethro was watching it from behind the
curtains.

"If you are w