The President cordially greeted the ambassador, who returned the salutation with equal warmth, and then [pg 348]shook hands with Secretary Day and the Assistant Secretaries. While the President, Judge Day, and the French ambassador were discussing the weather,—and Washington has seldom known such a rain-storm as that which engulfed the city while peace was being signed,—M. Thiebaut and Assistant Secretary Moore were comparing the two copies of the protocol to see that they corresponded, and were identical in form.
The protocol is on parchment, in parallel columns in French and English. In the copy retained by the American government the English text is in the first column; in the other copy, which was transmitted to Madrid, the French text leads the paper.
The two Secretaries having pronounced the protocol correct, Judge Day and the French ambassador moved over to the table to affix their signatures. Mr. Cridler lit a candle to melt the sealing wax to make the impression on the protocols.
The striking of the match caused the French ambassador to stop, feel in his pocket, and then remember that he had come away from his embassy without his seal. Here was a contretemps. It would never do to seal such an important document with anything else but the ambassador’s personal seal.
A note was hastily written, and one of the White House messengers dashed out into the rain, and went to the French embassy. Until his return the distinguished party in the White House library continued to discuss the weather, and wonder when the typical Cuban [pg 349]rain would cease falling. In a few minutes the messenger returned. The ambassador drew from a small box his seal, and the two plenipotentiaries turned to the table. The American copy of the protocol was placed before Judge Day, who signed it, and then handed the pen to the ambassador, who quickly affixed his signature and seal.
DON CARLOS.
The second copy was then laid before the ambassador, who signed, and in turn handed back the pen to Judge Day.
Thus Judge Day signed the two documents, first and last, and with the last stroke of his pen hostilities ceased.