It was the third day after my arrival in Washington. The clear sky, which in the forenoon had lured me down from the Capitol Hill along the forest-clad banks of the little Tiber, had brought at the noon hour a warmth of sunshine that made by no means ungrateful the shade of a giant tulip poplar.

I was lolling at my ease on the bank of the beautiful stream when a rider broke cover from a thicket of azaleas and cantered toward me down along the bank. The first glance at his horse brought me to my feet, eager-eyed. It was one of the most mettlesome and shapely mounts I had ever had the pleasure to view.

The rider, attracted perhaps by my ill-concealed admiration, drew up before me with the easy control of a perfect horseman, and touched his cocked hat.

"A pleasant day, sir, for a lover of wild Nature," he said.

His tone, though easy almost to familiarity, was underlaid with a quiet dignity and reserve that brought my hand in turn to my high, stiff beaver and my eyes to his face.

"A day, sir, to tempt even a botanist to forget his classifying," I ventured at sight of the rooted plant of goldenrod in his hand.

He shook his long gray locks with a whimsical manner. "On the contrary, I am of the opinion that the enjoyment of Nature should add zest to the pursuits of Science."

"Since you put it so aptly, sir, I cannot but agree," I made answer, smiling at his shrewdness. "In truth," I added, "this unusual opportunity of enjoying solidago odora so late in the season loses nothing by the knowledge that the infusion of those selfsame fragrant leaves is of service medicinally."

He met the careless glance accompanying my words with deepened interest in his thoughtful eyes. Having had the greater part of my attention thus far fixed upon the noble horse, I had not gone beyond my first impression that the man was an overseer from some near-by plantation on the Potomac. Now, roused to closer observation by his gaze, I perceived that behind his homely features lay the brain of a man of much thought and learning. With this I gave heed to the fact that his clothes, for all their carelessness of cut and condition, were of the finest materials.

I swept him the best of the bows I had acquired from the French creoles of New Orleans.

"Can it be, sir, that chance has favored me with the acquaintance of a fellow physician in what Mr. Gouverneur Morris has so aptly termed the spoiled wilderness of Washington?" I asked. "If so, permit me to introduce myself as a young but aspiring practitioner of the healing art. My name, sir, is one often in the mouths of men,—Robinson,—Dr. John H. Robinson."

Smiling at my attempt at wit, the gentleman swung to the ground before me, and twitched the reins over the head of his spirited mount.

"You were walking toward the Capitol?" he inquired. I nodded assent. "Then, by your leave, I will accompany you part of the way,—not that I can claim the honor of membership in your most useful profession. I am no more than a browser in the lush fields of philosophy. My name, sir, is Thomas Jefferson."

For a moment I stood like a dolt. My hand went up to jerk off my coonskin cap, and knocked smartly against the stiff brim of my beaver. The touch recalled me to my dignity, and I flattered myself that my bow and words would alike prove acceptable: "Your Excellency will pardon me! Had I been aware—"

"You would have known that there are few things I hold in greater detestation than such high-flown, aristocratic terms of address and such undemocratic bendings," he cut in upon me, with a touch of asperity in his quiet voice.

"I stand corrected, sir," I replied, straightening to my full six feet, and seeking to cover my confusion with a smile. "It is not necessarily proof of sycophancy that one has acquired his manners in New Orleans."

"True—true, and that is full explanation of what I must confess puzzled me. You are from the far West, if I do not mistake, and our frontiersmen, as a rule, are as deficient in courtly graces as the European aristocrats are sycophantic. By your leave, we will be moving."

We swung about and sauntered up the stream bank, the horse following at his master's heels, docile as a well-trained hound. For a time the attention of my distinguished companion seemed fixed upon the romantic arbors of wild grapes which overran the neighboring thickets. But as I was about to remark on the beauty of the autumnal foliage, he turned to me with a direct question: "Have you close acquaintance, sir, among the people of St. Louis and New Orleans?"

"I have practised in both towns, sir, since the cession of Louisiana Territory."

"And you found the former subjects of Spain and France well disposed toward the Republic?"

"I regret to have to say, sir, that Governor Claiborne is not popular even among our American residents of New Orleans."

The President looked at me doubtfully. "Claiborne is a man of undisputed integrity."

"The creoles, Your Excellency, could better appreciate a degree of tact. Governor Claiborne is too much the Western man in his attitude toward people of another race."

"I cannot but trust that our release of them from subjection to despotism—" He paused to study my face with a mild yet penetrating gaze. We walked on for several paces before he again spoke. "I esteem you to be a man of some little discernment, Dr. Robinson."

"You compliment me, sir. Having gone to the Mississippi fresh from my medical studies in New York, it may be that I observed some features of the Louisiana situation unnoted by the local factions. Though a Westerner myself, I trust that four years in college on the seaboard has enabled me to look upon events with a little less of our natural trans-Alleghany prejudice."

"Ah! You are also acquainted in St. Louis—with General Wilkinson? Perhaps you are intimate?"

"No!" I said. Before my mental vision rose the whiskey-flushed face and portly figure of the pompous, fussy old General.

"You speak emphatically."

"Sir, I give you common opinion when I say there are few men of standing in the Upper Territory, or in the Lower, for that matter, who would trust the General out of sight either with their reputations or with their purses."

My companion frowned as severely as it seemed his philosophic temperament would permit. "You forget, sir, that you are speaking of the Commander-in-Chief of the Army of the Republic."

"A commander whose appointment, it is said, was urged on the grounds that it would keep him out of mischief,—a man who is charged with having been implicated in all the separatist plots of the nineties."

"And if so, what then? With the removal of the misguided Federalists from the control of public affairs, and the purchase of Louisiana Territory, insuring for our Western river commerce the freedom of port at New Orleans, all basis for the just complaints of the West have been removed. I trust implicitly in the loyalty of the people of that great region."

"What of the ovations given to Mr. Aaron Burr during his trip this past season?"

"Greatly as I deplored, and still deplore, the death of Mr. Hamilton, it is a fact that the duel terminated the political career of his slayer,—the man whom we alike distrusted."

"Yet Colonel Burr was received with enthusiasm by nearly every man of prominence west of Pittsburg. I might mention Senator Adair, young General Jackson of the Tennessee militia, General Wilkinson, and our richest New Orleans merchant, Mr. Daniel Clark."

"Very true; and easily accounted for by the reaction of sentiment against the Federalist and partisan animus which procured Colonel Burr's disfranchisement in the State of New York and his indictment for murder in New Jersey. No; once for all, Colonel Burr has been removed as a disturbing element in the politics of the Republic."

Having delivered this confident opinion, Mr. Jefferson stooped to pick up an odd pebble, and after gazing at it a moment, abruptly changed the subject. "The West takes some little interest, I trust, in the expedition which I had some share in planning."

"You refer, sir, to the Northwest Expedition under the command of Captain Lewis and the brother of Clark of Vincennes fame."

"The furtherance of unremunerative scientific research is one of the few functions properly within the scope of an ideal government. I am hopeful of valuable results from this expedition as regards the advancement alike of geography, botany, zoÖlogy, and mineralogy."

"I trust, sir, that you will be equally gratified by the results of the exploration of the Mississippi by my friend Lieutenant Pike."

"Pike?—Pike?—Ah, the son of Major Zebulon Pike of the Revolution. General Wilkinson duly informed the Secretary of War that he had sent young Pike up the river with a small party. But it is a purely military expedition, equipped by the General on his own initiative; although I may add that his action in the matter has since received the approval of the Government."

"That last statement, sir, is of no little satisfaction to myself as a friend of Lieutenant Pike. I am sure that he will quit himself of his service with no small credit. Allow me to speak of him as one of the Republic's most able and patriotic young soldiers."

"So I have been informed. On the other hand, the young man lacks the scientific attainments most desirable in the leader of such an expedition."

My heart gave a bound that sent the blood tingling to my finger-tips.

"Mr. President," I exclaimed, "the Government is doubtless aware that General Wilkinson has in view another expedition,—one to proceed westward to treat with the tribes of the great plains and to explore the western boundaries between Louisiana Territory and New Spain. I am, sir, only too well aware of my lack of standing alike with the General and with the Government, yet I believe I can say, with all due modesty, that I possess somewhat the scientific attainments you mention as desirable—"

I stopped short upon meeting the growing reserve in my companion's mild gaze. He smiled not unkindly.

"I did not state, Dr. Robinson, that such attainments were the sole requisites. Moreover, this expedition, if in truth such a one is contemplated, rests wholly upon the discretion of General Wilkinson, and will no doubt be of a military character."

"Yet, if I may venture, could not Your Excellency—"

The President stopped and regarded me with severity. "I have already remarked, sir, that such adulatory titles—"

"Pardon me, Mr. Jefferson!" I cried.

His look did not relax. "Nor 'Mister' Jefferson, if you please, sir. I am Thomas Jefferson, the servant of the people and a plain citizen of the Republic,—no more, no less."

Knowing the greatness of the man behind this small foible, I bowed acquiescence to the statement, and he, smiling gravely in response, added with cordiality: "As I have intimated, the Executive will not interfere with any proper plans which General Wilkinson may deem expedient. Yet I will say that, in the event he carries out the contemplated expedition to our Western boundaries, I should be pleased to hear of such a well-qualified assistant as yourself being included in the party as a volunteer."

I covered my disappointment with the best smile I could muster: "In that event, sir, I fear that I must repress my adventurous longings."

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.