463    THE .WISCONSIN FARMER.



  Of the churches, I cannot give you the num-
her, but this I can, I saw not one there of
which any flourishing town in the West would
be proud; so of the school houses; so of the
stores. of the inarkets.-not so, they are an
abomination of inconvenience and slovenli-
ness, particularly one that bears the distin-
guibhed naine of' Washington 'Market, which,
by any honesty of signifiRuce, should stand
for the market par e(cellence.
  When you are out sight-seeing in a great
city anud wish to economize time and strength,
you will find in picture galleries, libraries
anwl refreshment saloons far more than the
trifle yoe pay for, but in these, as in other
preparations for the crowd of people who are
there to-day, and gone to-morrow, there is no
adequate provision. There is not even such
a display upon the streets as to attract one's
mind from the wearisomness of getting about.
Those who dress best, that class of persons
whose attire helps so much to convert the
streets of many of our large cities into an
ever-shifting panorama of beauty and art,
here, ride; while those who walk wear the
second or third best, of such apparel as they
have. I think I was particularly disappoint-
ed in this when on Pennsylvania Avenue, the
great street of this world famed city. There,
at least, I found I had been expecting to see
something worthy the days, and the men, and
the women illustrious in the early pages of
our history. It was there as otherwhere.
  And is this all of Washington? No. It
was to me a small part of it. Still it is that
which you cannot escape in your long walks
or drives, after that which is really the city of
our pride. Am I now going to tell you about
the Capitol, the State Departments, the White
House, the Publie Gardens, the Navy Yard,
the Hospitals, Contraband Camp and those



surroundings that invest the city with all the
sacredness of the past and all the hopes of
the future? Not much, and for the reason
that it were words multiplied in vain. Sup-
pose I give you the dimensions and cost of
that vast structure, the Capitol, yet piling up



words can, of its amplitude of accommodation,
and fitness of finish, for the Legislative bodies
of so great a people. Tou have all read of
this, as had I, and seen it, doubtless, in pic-
ture as well as in print. But there is a some-
thing you cannot tell to your neighbor, nor I
to you. It is that experience of emotion, that
elevated conception of the greatness and the
future of our Republic, of which you there
seem a distinct part, while standing under
that magnificent dome that, all by itself, pays
you for the expense and fatigue of a journey
there. Then go the rounds; visit, in turn, the
State, the Treasury, the War Departments, the
Patent Office, the Post Office and the Navy
Yard. These buildings, with the exception
of the State Department, which is soon to be
in keeping with the rest, are just about as fine,
I mean in the sense of the substantially ele-
gant, as buildings can be; while the Navy
Yard, with its countless shops of clamp and
hammer and hiss, is day and night forging
the thunder bolts of retribution against those
who ate seeking to make the nation there rep-
resented a by-word and a reproach on the
earth.

  There is, after all, an atmosphere in Wash-
ington that makes you quite forget the archi-
tectural unfitness and dilapidation of the city
proper. It is the inspiration that comes of
the overshadowing presence of those great
symbols of our nationality. It is a good
place in which to feel all the littleness and
all the glory that makes up the vaunt of the
American people.

  To speak of the Hospitals and the surround-
ings would require a separate chapter. As is
fitting, the nation's capital is environed with
commodious and entirely comfortable retreats
for the dying and the convalescent soldiery



whose right arm has been its defense in the
hour of danger. Of these, and the Soldiers'
Home, a retreat for the regular army aged
and infirm, and of the Contraband Camp
where, for the first time in the history of our
country, the dusky children of the sun are



its marble to the sky, and, in detail all that I gathered in safety under
the folds of our own



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