The tall, spare form sat very upright, the reins loosely held in the sinewy hand.

Above the lawn neckcloth the face, sanguine in complexion and with deep-set eyes, looking smilingly from side to side of the village street.

He came on to the post-office amid a buzz of voices, and the more prominent men of his party started down the steps to greet him.

The few Federalists stiffly held their places, but they, too, as he rode up, lifted their hats to their ancient neighbour and the country's Chief Magistrate.

A dozen hands were ready to help him dismount, but he shook his head with a smile.