impotent, but measure it by intellectual and impassioned sentiments, and the number swells into an "exceeding great army." Providence has often illustrated this principle; Greece was a small country, so was Judea, and yet, what vast power went forth from their narrow limit! Science may well take pleasure in the insignificant. The coral insect may justly be magnified as the builder of continents, and the humble bee, acknowledged as the first of architects. But if we wish the most significant example of this law, we must turn to the providential connections of man: a great truth enlarges his personality, everything receives his overflowing life, the winds and waves help him, all nature takes sides with him, the very angels do his bidding. Our early struggle was the struggle of true and strong-hearted men; men who perilled all for principle; who valued their cause more than themselves, and invoked the martyr-spirit to baptize them for their work. Is it, then, strange, that the public opinion of the country attached such importance to men? The history of Washington was before it. Any one of its pages was sufficient to redeem the name of Man, to establish confidence in his noble capacities. Our best lesson was learned from him. It was not the mere fact of his greatness, but the peculiar type of that greatness which instituted the heraldry of our land. If, then, our statesmen

would be honored and loved, such are the associations they must covet, in that constellation they must fix their star. Standing beside them in their opening career, we may easily imagine the animated sentiments and fervent aspirations that quickened the intellects and warmed the hearts of our illustrious Trio. That portion of their biography is already written. Every man has done it for himself. Shall the sequel realize the glowing fancy? The conditions of greatness are a severe tax on our wisdom and fortitude; the sternest laws have to be implicitly and devoutly obeyed; the hands must never weary, nor the feet ever falter; our country must be our better self, and Heaven infuse energy into every generous thought and heroic action.

CHAPTER XIV.

SOCIAL LIFE IN WASHINGTON, AND SOME OF ITS TRADITIONS.

To one whose enjoyment of society is not impaired by a conventional bondage of fashionable routine, and whose taste is not vitiated by the spirit of exclusiveness, Washington offers greater attractions than any other city of the country. Around the great officers of State, are gathered persons from every part of the Republic, representing all professions and types of character. Nearly every man in Congress has made himself noteworthy at home by some gift or accomplishment; he can play the fiddle well, tell a good story, manage a caucus, make an effective speech, indite striking paragraphs, laugh loud and long, listen complaisantly while others talk, talk fluently and copiously himself, or has a pretty and clever wife. These gifts and graces are, of course, brought to the Federal Capital, and invested in the joint stock company of social life. The small salaries paid to American officials, and the drain of politics on the pocket, used to keep the mass of our statesmen in moderate, not to say humble circum

stances. The new comer was therefore struck by the unpretending plainness of the houses and furniture, and the simplicity of the ménage of our lawgivers. The noble public edifices, some of them yet in course of erection, formed as striking a contrast with the private residences of Washington, as did those of Rome before the time of Cæsar. The White House itself, except for an occasional gorgeous carpet, by its meagre and almost bare appearance, would have satisfied the requirements of the austerest democrat; nevertheless the doors of hospitality stood open to all, and while the fare was, for the most part, frugal, it was rendered acceptable by open-handed kindness. A President's levée is probably the most curious and characteristic expression of our individual, social and national peculiarities, to be seen in any single spectacle throughout the country. No cards of invitation are issued, but notice is given through the newspapers, that on a stated evening of every alternate week, the Chief Magistrate will receive his fellowcitizens. The first and last of the season are usually the most interesting. At eight o'clock the pedestrians begin to arrive, and by nine the carriages are depositing their loads at the main entrance of the executive mansion. The President stands in a little reception room, with the ladies of his household on his right, and on his left the Marshal of the District of Columbia, who, in a very unostentatious way, per

forms the duty of grand chamberlain, announcing to his excellency the names of such parties as he may know. The President, generally, his left hand gloved and his right hand bared, spends two hours shaking hands with an uncounted crowd, in such a way as to make the impression on each person, that he, the President, is particularly delighted to see him, and that if he had only a little more time, he would vastly enjoy a tête-à-tête. The procession files past the President into the great east-room, where promenading is the order of the evening, until the press renders it impossible. Here are officers of the army and navy in uniform; foreign ministers with their stars and ribbons, public functionaries of every grade; merchants, shopkeepers, mechanics; sometimes a group of backwoods hunters or Indian chiefs; and women of every age and condition, in magnificent toilets or rustic gear, yet all good-humored and polite. I fancy that it must the most extraordinary social medley to be witnessed anywhere. All seem to feel that the occasion has equalized them, there is neither obsequious suppleness on the one hand, or haughty condescension on the other, and I have never known a deviation from the rules of good behavior. The band of the marine corps discourses good music from a distant part of the building, and the time for dispersion is indicated by the performance of "Sweet Home," or "Yankee Doodle."