Mr. Gallatin is eighty-seven; and in the winter of 1845—6, when I saw him in New York, was in the full enjoyment of excellent bodily health and mental vigour. In the previous June I had been gratified by a long interview with this enlightened and sagacious Statesman; his piercing and original remarks, his shrewd criticisms of men and things, his erudition, his charming raillery, and, above all, his perfect kindness, made this visit delightful; but I think the morning I sat with him in December, after my return from Canada and the West, was more memorable still, for I knew the country and the people more intimately, and was able to enter more fully into his political explanations, and his spirited anecdotes. From these two interviews and my intermediate travels to the Mississippi and the Western States, there arose a whimsical report that I was a spy in the employ of Sir Robert Peel! and that the little Doctor, with his delicate health, was a mere ruse de guerre. I was once asked by a party in the railroad, “What remuneration Sir Robert gave me?” The question was demanded in a sort of doubting earnest that was irresistibly droll. The period of both visits and excursion was propitious for this amusing delusion; the Oregon Question being then (December 15 th) before Congress.