Ratcliffe sat ten minutes with him, and obtained information in
regard to pains which the President had suffered during the
previous night, in consequence, as he believed, of an
over-indulgence in fresh lobster, a luxury in which he had found a
diversion from the cares of state. So soon as this matter was
explained and condoled upon, Ratcliffe rose and took leave.
Every device known to politicians was now in full play against the
Hoosier Quarryman. State delegations with contradictory requests
were poured in upon him, among which that of Massachusetts
presented as its only prayer the appointment of Mr. Gore to the
Spanish mission. Difficulties were invented to embarrass and
worry him. False leads were suggested, and false information
carefully mingled with true. A wild dance was kept up under his
eyes from daylight to midnight, until his brain reeled with the
effort to follow it. Means were also found to convert one of his
personal, confidential friends, who had come with him from
Indiana and who had more brains or less principle than the others;
from him every word of the President was brought directly to
Ratcliffe's ear.
Early on Friday morning, Mr. Thomas Lord, a rival of the late
Samuel Baker, and heir to his triumphs, appeared in Ratcliffe's
rooms while the Senator was consuming his lonely egg and chop.
Mr. Lord had been chosen to take general charge of the
presidential party and to direct all matters connected with
Ratcliffe's interests.
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