[Footnote: Lossing's "Our Country," Vol.
V., Page 1203.]
This was the contemptible Peace Party at whose headquarters Terrence
Malone stood gazing. He determined to venture into the den and see what
it was like. The hour for the opening of congress had arrived, and men
with bundles of papers in their hands and anxious looks on their faces
hurried away to the capitol building. Some were congressmen, but most of
them were New England merchants. Terrence waited until all were gone,
then, as the door of the headquarters stood wide open inviting him to
enter, he walked boldly into the apartment.
A man about thirty-five, dressed very neatly, with glasses on, was
writing at a table littered with papers.
"Good morning to yez," said Terrence entering.
"Good morning, sir," said the writer, giving him a glance and resuming
his writing as if the fate of the nation depended on it.
"An' so this is the place where ye make peace?"
"It's the place where we keep peace. It's the place where we oppose the
foolish and suicidal policy of President Madison," was the curt answer.
"Who are you, misther?"
"I am Ebenezer Crane, sir, secretary of the Peace Party."
"Well, Misther Ebenezer Crane," and Terrence glanced at the secretary's
long legs, as if he thought the name no misnomer, "will yez answer me a
few questions?"
"Certainly," and Mr. Crane threw down his pen, wheeled his chair about
and looked vastly important.
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