unimpaired eye cleared, his throat had been for some time pretty well; but Mr. Seward came daily until the day Mr. Davis was taken in a close carriage up to address the Senate on an appropriation for the coast survey. Mr. Seward and I both objected earnestly, but Mr. Davis said, "It is for the good of the country and for my boyhood's friend, Dallas Bache, and I must go if it kills me." He left me at the door of the waiting-room with beeftea and wine in a little basket and went in— carried his point, then came almost fainting home. From that time he began to slide back into his accustomed place for an hour or two each day, and convalescence had its gentle and perfect work. After many weeks Mr. Seward said he might, with the practice of a raconteur he had acquired, have grown to the height of a second book nearly equal to Mr. Benton's "Thirty Years in the Senate,” had his short digests of its acts not been interrupted by "this unlucky convalescence." I met him looking very bored once on the street, and he stopped and said, "I think Mr. Davis must get sick again, I miss my daily walks." So powerful was the attraction my husband's elevated character and graceful deference for others exercised over the most prejudiced of his antagonists.

Mr. Seward's was a " problematical charac

ter" full of contradictions, but a very attractive study to us." He was thoroughly sympathetic with human suffering, and would do most unexpected kindnesses to those who would have anticipated the opposite only. He frankly avowed that truth should be held always subsidiary to an end, and if some other statement could subserve that end he made it. He said, again and again, that political strife was a state of war, and in war all stratagems were fair.

CHAPTER XLII.

SUMMER OUTING.

MR. DAVIS still continued so weak and had so little appetite that our medical man ordered him to a higher latitude for a month or two, after the adjournment of Congress. So we took our two little children, Margaret and Jefferson, and embarked on a steamer from Baltimore for Boston. It was not a pleasant route, but Mr. Davis always improved at sea, and in this case he became much stronger; until, when we arrived at Boston, he was quite cheerful, and able to dispense with the shade over his eyes for some hours toward twilight. We made connection with the packet steamer at Boston, and sailed out again for Portland harbor.

The Fourth of July fell upon one of the days we were on the ship, and there were prayers read and several speeches. Among those who made addresses was Mr. Davis. He spoke very urgently for peace, and of his devotion to the Constitutional Union. Every one present was stirred by his remarks, and

showed the pleasure he had given by renewed

attentions.

We found in Portland a charming summer climate. The excursions on Casco Bay, in the little boats that plied to and fro, were delightful. It was cheering to meet occasionally a pleasure party of several hundred, singing as they sailed some old-fashioned hymn. Even now, "Praise God from whom all blessings flow" comes floating over the past from those many voices, and I can almost see the green little islands rise before me that dot. Casco Bay.

The people of Portland were as kind as our own could have been, and we met many old acquaintances and made some agreeable new ones. Mrs. Montgomery Blair's family, many of them, lived there; Mrs. Charles Wingate, a bright, cordial, and stately lady of the old régime; the Dearbons, and Mr. Charles Clapp and his agreeable wife and daughter, entertained profusely in their delightful homes built before the embargo. Mrs. Carroll bore a strong resemblance to her cousin, Mrs. Blair, in person and in temperament, and was a near neighbor; she was kind as she was charming. and unaffected.

The Honorable Mr. Bradbury and his gentle, kind wife did much to render our visit pleasant. The families of Mr. Muzzy, Col

onel Little, and Mr. and Mrs. Shepley—he was afterward General Shepley during the warwere very kind, and Mr. Davis remembered them always affectionately. Clam-bakes were arranged for his amusement, and evenings at home for me, at different charming houses in the town; but, most pleasant of all, were the basket parties at Cape Elizabeth, where we sat down to exquisite refreshments, cooked under the directions of the ladies of the city, where each dish was the chef-d'œuvre of some good housekeeper. At one of these parties, when we were all seated at the table, a young man with a salver, white apron, and napkin handed me some very good cake, but as I went to take a piece, he upset the whole plate on my shoulders, and then ejaculated, "Oh, I beg your pardon, I am so very awkward." As I looked into the blushing face, I answered, "It is of no consequence; you have had no practice." He retired in confusion, and in a few minutes Colonel Shepley brought in my friend, the awkward servant, metamorphosed into a handsome young gentleman, who was profuse in his apologies, but said he had heard Mr. Davis would make a speech after tea, and had asked to be allowed to attend the table rather than miss hearing it. He was there on a fishing excursion. As the evening progressed he added much to