chimneys
built outside, with clay and rough sticks piled crosswise, as we used
to build cob towers, stood in barren looking fields, with cow, pig, or
mule lounging about the door. We often passed colored people, looking
as if they had come out of a picture book, or off the stage, but not at
all the sort of people I'd been accustomed to see at the North.

Wayside encampments made the fields and lanes gay with blue coats and
the glitter of buttons. Military washes flapped and fluttered on the
fences; pots were steaming in the open air; all sorts of tableaux seen
through the openings of tents, and everywhere the boys threw up their
caps and cut capers as we passed.

Washington.--It was dark when we arrived; and, but for the presence of
another friendly gentleman, I should have yielded myself a helpless
prey to the first overpowering hackman, who insisted that I wanted to
go just where I didn't. Putting me into the conveyance I belonged in,
my escort added to the obligation by pointing out the objects of
interest which we passed in our long drive. Though I'd often been told
that Washington was a spacious place, its visible magnitude quite took
my breath away, and of course I quoted Randolph's expression, "a city
of magnificent distances," as I suppose every one does when they see
it. The Capitol was so like the pictures that hang opposite the staring
Father of his Country, in boarding-houses and hotels, that it did not
impress me, except to recall the time when I was sure that Cinderella
went to housekeeping in just such a place, after she had married the
inflammable Prince; though, even at that early period, I had my doubts
as to the wisdom of a match whose foundation was of glass.

The White House was lighted up, and carriages were rolling in and out
of the great gate. I stared hard at the famous East Room, and would
have liked a peep through the crack of the door. My old gentleman was
indefatigable in his attentions, and I said, "Splendid!" to everything
he pointed out, though I suspect I often admired the wrong place, and
missed the right. Pennsylvania Avenue, with its bustle, lights, music,
and military, made me feel as if I'd crossed the water and landed
somewhere in Carnival time. Coming to less noticeable parts of the
city, my companion fell silent, and I meditated upon the perfection
which Art had attained in America--having just passed a bronze statue
of some hero, who looked like a black Methodist minister, in