weed, and all the hotels were afloat with the juice thereof.
The city has repeatedly been called the City of Magnificent Distances;
but anything so far behind its fellow cities cannot well be imagined. It
sounds incredible--nevertheless, it is a fact--that, except from the
Capitol to the "White House," there is not a street-light of any kind,
or a watchman. I lost my way one evening, and wandered all over the town
for two hours, without seeing light or guardian of any kind. I suppose
this is intended as a proof of the honest and orderly conduct of the
inhabitants, but I fear it must also be taken as a proof of their
poverty or want of energy. Whatever the reason may be, it certainly is a
reflection on the liberality of the Government, that the capital of this
Great Union should be the worst paved, worst lit, and worst guarded in
the whole Republic.

The system of sweeping changes on the election of a new president tends
materially to stop any increase of householders, the uncertain tenure of
office making the _employes_ prefer clustering in hotels and
boarding-houses to entering on a short career of housekeeping, which
will, of course, militate against any steady increase of the city, and
thus diminish the tax-payers. There are several hotels, but they will
not stand the least comparison with those in any of the leading towns of
the Union. Like the hotels in London, they are crammed during the
season--i.e., session--and during the rest of the year are
comparatively empty, and consequently do not pay very well; but they
are not the only establishments that make hay during the session; if
report speaks truly, the bars and gambling-houses reap an immense
harvest from the representatives of the people in both houses of
congress.

I amused myself here, as I often had done in other towns, by taking a
cigar in some decent-looking shop, and then having a chat with the
owner. On this occasion the subject of conversation was drinking in the
States. He said, in reply to a question I put to him, "Sir, a gentleman
must live a long time in the country before he can form the slightest
idea of the frightful extent to which drinking is carried, even by the
decently educated and well-to-do classes. I do not say that nine-tenths
of the people die drunk, but I firmly believe that with that proportion
death has been very materially hastened from perpetual drinks. It is one
of the greatest curses of this country, and I cannot say that I bel