ad of the
government. You take things too hard, Merne. I will not have you
brooding over this--it will never do. You have the megrims often
enough, as it is. Come here and kiss the baby! He is named for you,
Meriwether Lewis--and he has two teeth. Sit down and behave yourself.
Judy will be here in a minute. You are among your friends. Do not
grieve. 'Twill all come well!"

This was in the year 1809. Mr. Jefferson's embargo on foreign trade
had paralyzed all Western commerce. Our ships lay idle; our crops
rotted; there was no market. The name of Jefferson was now in general
execration. In March, when his second term as President expired, he
had retired to private life at Monticello. He had written his last
message to Congress that very spring, in which he said of the people
of his country:

I trust that in their steady character, unshaken by
difficulties, in their love of liberty, obedience to law,
and support of the public authorities, I see a sure
guarantee of the permanence of our republic; and retiring
from the charge of their affairs, I carry with me the
consolation of a firm persuasion that Heaven has in store
for our beloved country long ages to come of prosperity and
happiness.

Whatever the veering self-interest of others led them to think or do
regarding the memory of that great man, Meriwether Lewis trusted
Thomas Jefferson absolutely, and relied wholly on his friendship and
his counsel. Now, in the hour of trouble, he resolved to journey to
Monticello to ask the advice of his old chief, as he had always done.

In this he was well supported by his friend Dr. Saugrain.

"You are ill, Governor--you have the fever of these lands," urged that
worthy. "By all means leave this country and go back to the East. Go
by way of New Orleans and the sea. The voyage will do you much good."

"Peria," said Meriwether Lewis to his French servant and attendant,
"make ready my papers for my journey. Have a small case, such as can
be carried on horseback. I must take with me all my journals, my maps,
and certain of the records of my office here. Get my old spyglass; I
may need it, and I always fancy to have it with me when I travel, as
was my custom in the West. Secure for our costs in travel some
gold--three or four hundred dollars, I imagine. I will take some in my
belt, and give the rest to you for the saddle-trunk."

"Your Excellency plans to go by land, then, and not by sea?"