"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."