“Come thou goddess, fair and free,In Heaven ycleped Euphroysine,And by men, heart-easing Mirth.Haste thee nymph, and bring with theeJest and youthful jollity,Quips and cranks, and wanton wiles,Nods and becks and wreathed smiles,Such as hang on Hebe’s cheek,And love to live in dimple sleek.”
“Come thou goddess, fair and free,In Heaven ycleped Euphroysine,And by men, heart-easing Mirth.Haste thee nymph, and bring with theeJest and youthful jollity,Quips and cranks, and wanton wiles,Nods and becks and wreathed smiles,Such as hang on Hebe’s cheek,And love to live in dimple sleek.”
“I learned most of that poem by heart when I went to school at Oak Knowe,” said Dorothy.
“Indeed, and so did I,” answered Mr. Dauntrey, “at school but not at Oak Knowe,” he laughed. “But my favorite was the other poem, ‘Il Penserose.’”
“The other picture represents that,” said Mrs. Calvert.
“Listen while I recite to you the lines that inspiredthat picture,” said Mr. Dauntrey, and in a wonderful voice he brought out each shade of meaning:
“Hail, thou goddess, sage and holy!Hail, divinest Melancholy!Come; but keep thy wonted state,With even step and musing gait,And looks commercing with the skies,Thy rapt soul sitting in their eyes,There held in holy passion stillForget thyself to marble....”
“Hail, thou goddess, sage and holy!Hail, divinest Melancholy!Come; but keep thy wonted state,With even step and musing gait,And looks commercing with the skies,Thy rapt soul sitting in their eyes,There held in holy passion stillForget thyself to marble....”
The stack rooms or apartments where the books are kept open out on each side of the rotunda. The cases rise way up to the roof and are filled with adjustable shelves. There are decks at intervals of every few feet from top to bottom by which the attendants reach the books.
Each of these stacks will hold eight hundred thousand books, and although they may be consulted by any one, very few are ever lost, for only members of Congress and about thirty other officials can take books out of the library.
“As there is a constant call for books of referencefrom the Capitol when legislators often want a volume for instant use, an underground tunnel has been made between the two buildings. This contains a cable carrier upon which books can be sent back and forth,” explained Mr. Dauntrey. “But haven’t you seen enough of the library now?”
“There is Mr. Ludlow!” exclaimed Dorothy, “and I think he is calling us.”
“Yes, let us go over to him,” added Mrs. Calvert. “Come.”
“Ah, here you all are,” said Mr. Ludlow. “I called to you just now because there is one painting I would like to have you all see before you go upstairs to the restaurant.”
“Is it here?” questioned Dorothy.
“No. You follow me and I will bring you to it in just a few seconds,” answered Mr. Ludlow.
“Here we are. I want you all to follow this series of pictures.”
“It is called the evolution of the book,” added Mrs. Calvert.
The series begins with a picture representing the means that the prehistoric men took to commemorate an event singly—the creation of the cairn, nothing more nor less than the piling upof stones. Then comes a picture illustrating oral tradition—an Arab story writer of the desert. The third represents an Egyptian carving hyroglyphics on a tomb. These are the forerunners and the next is picture writing, represented by an American Indian painting some tribal story or event. In lieu of paper he uses a skin. The fifth is shown by a figure of a monk sitting by the embrasure of his cell, laboriously decorating the pages of some sacred book of the Middle Ages. And finally, the initial attainment of modern methods is shown by a scene in the shop of Guttenburg, where the original printer is seen examining a proof sheet, while an employe looks over his shoulder, and another assistant has the lever of a crudely constructed press in hand.
They all thought this series of pictures a beautiful one, and very interesting.
Dorothy commented, “If they had not discovered how to print and make books, I wonder if we would have had a library like this one here, filled with stones all covered with hyroglyphics?”
“I hardly think so,” answered Mr. Ludlow, “for we could never get so much stone in a building. But come now. We will go upstairs tothe little restaurant and sit down and rest for a few minutes.”
So taking the elevator they reached the restaurant which is located in the upper floor of the building, and finding a large table, they seated themselves.
They ordered ice cream for the girls, and the men took lemonade.
While refreshing themselves, Mr. Ludlow said, “I would like to see you all in the morning at ten o’clock. I will then disclose our plans to you for the next few weeks. Also, to-morrow, our number will be increased by three more singers who will join us here. They are Miss Dozzi and Mrs. Helmholz and Signor de Reinzzi.”
Every one said they would be on time in the morning, and started to go back to the hotel. On the way out from the library, Dorothy asked, “Mr. Ludlow, are all these pictures and pieces of statuary done by Italians and other foreigners?”
“No, indeed,” he answered. “The decorations are wholly the work of American architects, painters and sculptors, more than fifty of whom participated in the work. So that, you see, the library is an exhibit of the native art and ability of the citizens of the United States and a memorial to them.”
The next morning they all hurried to the private sitting room of Mr. Ludlow’s suite, where he had asked them to assemble.
“Aunt Betty and Alfy,” called Dorothy, “both of you must come too, so you can hear what Mr. Ludlow has to say, for you know you belong to the company, too.”
Ruth rushed up to Dorothy and whispered, “I think you were very mean, keeping Mr. Dauntrey all to yourself last night, and making me stay with Mr. Ludlow. He was so cross. I hope he is better natured to-day, or when we rehearse this afternoon we will all have trouble.”
“I didn’t take Mr. Dauntrey,” answered Dorothy in a very surprised tone of voice. “I didn’t seek his company. He just took us and put us in a taxicab and that’s all.”
“Sh!” whispered Ruth, “here he is now. Isn’t he a handsome man?”
“I don’t particularly care for his style. He is too effeminate looking. Come over here and sit down by Aunt Betty and I,” and Dorothy started to walk over to where the others sat. Ruth did not follow her, however, but remained just where she was.
“And how is Miss Ruth, to-day?” inquired Mr. Dauntrey. “I am quite longing for our real work to start so I can hear you sing. I am sure it will be a great pleasure.”
Mr. Ludlow entered just then as Ruth looked up to Mr. Dauntrey, and murmured, “Ah, that was so nice of you to say.”
“Are you all here?” inquired Mr. Ludlow. “Let me take a little account of you.” Mentally he ran over the small list of people. “All ready then. All sit down and make yourselves comfortable. I will only detain you a few minutes now. We are going to have a very important recital in the new National Theatre to-morrow night. I have a little typewritten letter for each of you. I will give these to Mr. Dauntrey and he will hand them to you.” Turning to Mr. Dauntrey he handed him a number of white envelopes, saying: “There now, don’t neglect to give each one the proper envelope.”
Turning once more to the rest of them, he continued, “If by any chance you don’t happen to like the instructions contained in those envelopes, report at once to Mr. Dauntrey and he will take up the matter with me, or refer you to me.”
Mr. Ludlow had had many dealings with performers before, and he knew from experience that it was better to give instructions this way. It avoided open contentions which were likely when one artist thought he or she was slighted, and enabled each one to know exactly what they had to do, for there was no mistaking written orders.
“The new National Theatre,” continued Mr. Ludlow, “is on Pennsylvania avenue near Thirteenth street, and is of great capacity and comfort. I hope you will all do your best for I have written to the President, and have asked him to accept, as a token of our respect, a box for that night. I hope he honors us with his presence, and it may afford you all an opportunity to meet him personally. I expect this concert to be a big thing for us. This city is favorably disposed toward classical concerts, and Mr. Dauntrey has worked hard sending out special announcements for us.
“I expect each of you to do your very best and look your very best. Always look your best. Looks go a great way. If people see you enter the stage confidently and look nice—nice and neat, not gaudy, not cheap or overdressed, just good simple dresses, and not made in outlandish styles—their first impression is very apt to be a lasting one. There, I think that is enough of a lecture. I plan to go from here to Pittsburgh, and, with several stops, on to Chicago. From Chicago on to St. Louis, and from there with a half dozen stops, if we are successful, to San Francisco. Just what we will do then I can’t tell now. But I think that is enough to know now.”
“But what hotels are we to stop in at those places, Mr. Ludlow?” inquired Miss Winters.
“I suppose all you fair ladies will want to have a list of the hotels in advance,” laughed Mr. Ludlow, “and you shall have duplicate route lists with dates, which you can send to your friends so you can have mail each morning. I may want you to give two concerts here in Washington, but I am not sure yet,” added Mr. Ludlow. “We also may have to run down to Mount Vernon and give a concert there, so I want you all to be readyto render something different than what you are to use to-morrow. You can each select your own piece. Is there anything now you want to ask me?” he said finally, turning so as to see them all.
“Well,” he continued, “if there is nothing else we will adjourn till this afternoon when I have made appointments with some of you to come here alone so that I may have an idea of how you are doing. If you all would care to, I think it would be a good thing if we visited the Capitol now. You are privileged in each city to do as much sight-seeing as you can and care to without getting over tired.”
They were all appreciative of this courtesy, and thought that that would make their tour a very very pleasant one. Just as soon as Mr. Dauntrey had handed them their envelopes, they departed for their rooms to get hats and coats and be ready to start at once. Aunt Betty also had her guide book, and in a very short time they were all ready for a visit to the Capitol.
The Capitol building commands a central and slightly hilltop position. The grounds in front of the building are perfectly level, but in the rear slope downwards towards the Potomac flats. In the northwestern part of the park is an ivy-coveredrest-house, one window of which looks into a grotto.
Ruth thought this a pretty spot indeed, and exclaimed, “Oh, just see here, isn’t this a romantic spot? I could sit here for hours and dream.”
“Wouldn’t that be rather lonesome, Miss Ruth?” said Mr. Dauntrey to her, softly. “Wouldn’t you rather have someone else here with you?”
Ruth did not answer this question, but just gave him an adorable little glance.
“The ground immediately in front of the Capitol is the plaza,” said Mr. Ludlow. “Here vast crowds assemble to witness presidential inaugurations.”
Three flights of broad steps led up to the main entrance, an architecturally effective feature. The southern wing contains the House of Representatives and the northern one the Senate chamber.
“The central portico,” remarked Mrs. Calvert, “I would like to have you notice particularly. It dates back from 1825. The allegorical group cut in sandstone was designed by the President, John Quincy Adams.”
“What does it represent?” questioned Alfy.
“The group represents the genius of our belovedAmerica,” answered Mrs. Calvert. “America is resting her shield upon an altar, while an eagle rests at her feet. She is listening to hope, and points in response to Justice.”
“I think you have told us a very good story of that piece, Mrs. Calvert, and as you are just as well, perhaps better acquainted with this place than I am, do you mind explaining the things occasionally, so as to help me out?” asked Mr. Ludlow.
“Why, it is a pleasure to me, I assure you,” answered Mrs. Calvert, gracefully. “You see I have been here often and I have my indispensable Rand, McNally guide book.”
“Right here where you are standing,” interrupted Mr. Dauntrey, for he wished them to understand that he had been to Washington before and knew something of the place, “is where all the presidents of the United States since the time of Jackson have been inaugurated, the chief justice adminstrating the oath of office here in full view of the onlookers.”
The large bronze doors were thrown back, and all entered the building itself. The entrance takes one immediately into the rotunda, which is of enormous size. The floor is of sandstone, therotunda being nearly 100 feet in diameter, and almost twice that high. A balcony runs around it, and strangely interesting is the fact that this balcony has a very good whispering echo. The decoration of this huge place is confined mostly to the walls, but there are a few pieces of statuary on the floor.
The great wall space is given to historical pictures of considerable size, and all are familiar to everyone through their reproduction on postals, currency and postage stamps.
The whole party made a tour of the room with much interest, viewing the canvases.
“We might divide these pictures into two classes,” said Mr. Ludlow, “the early historical and revolutionary. The former are, I suspect, to a degree imaginative, but the latter are accurately true to the times and scenes they depict. In the first group are the following: ‘The Landing of Columbus at San Salvador in 1492,’ ‘The Discovery of the Mississippi by De Soto in 1541,’ ‘The Baptism of Pocahontas at Jamestown in 1613,’ and, the last of this group, ‘The Farewell Service on Board the Speedwell.’ This shows an unseaworthy old port now called Lyden, Holland—forAmerica, bearing the first colony of pilgrims who were finally landed on Plymouth Rock by the Mayflower.”
“Then,” Mrs. Calvert pointed out, “there follows the group of Revolutionary pictures. Beside each picture of this group is an outline key which gives the names of the people shown. The first is ‘The Signing of the Declaration of Independence’ in the old hall in Philadelphia in 1776. The second one is the ‘Surrender of Burgoyne at Saratoga’ to General Gates. This picture was made from sketches made on the very spot by Colonel Trumbull, who was a close friend of Washington. He was present at the scene of the next picture also, ‘The Surrender of Lord Cornwallis.’ The British are seen marching between the lines of the Americans and their French allies.
“The fourth is the ‘Resignation of Washington’ as commander-in-chief of his well-tried army, always a rather pathetic scene, it seems to me.”
“How interesting. I could spend hours here, but suppose we must not.”
“Where next?” inquired Dorothy.
“We will go through this door and into whatwas the original Hall of Representatives, and is now the Statuary Hall,” answered Mrs. Calvert.
The room which they now entered was semi-circular in shape, and whose ceiling is half a dome beneath which is a spacious gallery now filled with a library.
“The House of Representatives used this hall quite generally for fifty years, from 1808 on,” said Mr. Ludlow. “Here Clay, Webster, Adams, Calhoun, Randolph, Cass, and many others won world-wide fame, and made the walls ring with their fiery eloquence. Here were many fierce and bitter wrangles over vexed questions, turbulent scenes, displays of sectional feelings. Too bad they had no talking machines in those days to deal out impassioned oratory for future generations.”
“What is that star set in the floor for?” inquired Ruth; whose interest in oratory of past ages was limited.
“That marks the spot where John Quincy Adams, then a representative from his home, Massachusetts, was prostrated at his desk. See, the date is February 1, 1848,” read Dorothy.
“Where did all these statues come from?” questioned Alfaretta.
“Most of them were bought and placed here, and some of them, I think, were donated,” answered Aunt Betty.
“This statuary hall,” continued Mr. Ludlow, “has great acoustic properties.”
“Shall we get a Capitol guide?” asked Mrs. Calvert. “They say they can amuse one greatly, for they know each place where these strange things can be heard.”
“Yes, I will go and find one. You stay here till I come back,” added Mr. Ludlow, turning to the others. In a few moments he was back, accompanied by a young man in uniform.
The guide showed them where they could hear curious echoes, whispers distinct at a distance, and the ability to hear slight sounds that are inaudible at your elbow. They all tried these experiments. Ruth took her place at one corner of the room and Dorothy in the other corner at the same side of the room. The guide told them that they could converse in a low tone, yet each heard distinctly what the other said.
Ruth started off by saying, “Dorothy, do you believe what this guide is telling us or do you think he is fooling us?”
Dorothy was greatly surprised when she foundshe could hear quite plainly what Ruth said, and answered, “I am surprised to say I do.”
At this ambiguous answer they all laughed. Then, one by one, they tried the experiment, each finding how perfectly it worked out.
Leaving Statuary Hall by the door under the arch, they traversed the corridor to the present Hall of Representatives. It is an oblong room of liberal size. The ceiling is a framework of iron, bronzed and gilded, and inlaid with glass upon which the coats-of-arms of the States are painted. The light effect is beautiful; the colors are mellowed rather than obscured.
The Speaker’s raised desk is against the southern wall and below this are the marble desks of the official reporters. The latter keep a stenographic record of everything done or said, to be published the next morning so that those who are absent or pay little attention to what is going on may still keep posted on the progress of events. The sergeant-at-arms is within easy call. This latter officer is called the Speaker’s policeman—the representative of the physical force, and his symbol of authority is the mace, which reposes on a marble pedestal at the right of the speaker.
“The mace was adopted by the House in thefirst Congress,” explained Mr. Ludlow. “It has been in use ever since.”
“How do they use it?” questioned Dorothy.
“When it is placed upon its pedestal,” he answered, “it signifies that the House is in session, and under the Speaker’s authority.”
“I suppose I ought to know, but who is the Speaker, and what does he do?” asked Alfaretta.
“The Speaker,” continued Mr. Ludlow, “is the head of the House, elected by vote of the members.”
“And I have a question,” said Ruth. “What is a mace?”
“In this case, the mace is a bundle of black rods fastened with transverse bands of silver. On its top is a silver globe, surmounted by a silver eagle,” answered Mr. Ludlow, “and when the sergeant-at-arms is executing the commands of the Speaker, he is required to bear aloft the mace in his hands, unlike the House of Parliament, where there is much form and ceremony, there is little else here than quiet dignity.”
Grouped in concentric semi-circles are the desks of the Representatives, all small, uniform and handsome.
“The Republican party all sit on the Speaker’sleft and the Democrats on the right,” volunteered Mr. Dauntrey.
“My, but there are a lot of seats,” said Alfy. “Who uses them?”
“In the galleries,” said Mr. Ludlow. “Those over the Speaker’s head are for the press. The others are for onlookers, some for diplomats, friends of the Congressmen, and some for ladies. They hold more than a thousand people, I think.”
Going downstairs they came to the House lobby. This apartment is richly furnished and contains many portraits, most of them being crayon drawings of the Speakers of the past. Passing through this room and out, one comes to the committee rooms in one of which is hung a notable collection of paintings of the principal forts of the United States.
From this corridor, the party descended the eastern grand staircase to a basement corridor which extends from end to end of the Capitol on this ground floor. This they traversed till they came to the Senate chamber. The white marble pillars in this at once attracted their attention.
Mr. Ludlow said, “I want you all to examine these marble pillars carefully and notice thatthough they are of Corinthian mold, their floriated capitals represent leaves of American plants, the one most used being the tobacco leaf.”
Passing onward, to the right, they saw the old Supreme Court chamber, now used as a law library. All the corridors at this end are bright, and the walls and ceilings are very elaborately decorated with mural designs in the Italian manner, being daintily drawn and brightly colored. Among them are many portraits of early men of note, in medallions, and a long series of charming drawings in colors of American birds and flowers.
The vestibule of the Senate post office is particularly picturesque, having over the post office door a large painting of Fulton, indicating his first steamboat, “The Claremont,” passing the palisades of the Hudson.
A stairway leads on up to the main floor, where corridors completely extend around the Senate chamber, which occupies the center of its wing. Here the ceiling, in contrast with the one of the House, is flat, with broad panels of glass, painted with emblems of the army, the navy and the arts. The walls are of marble, paneled, the doors of choice mahogany, the carpet green, which setsoff well the mahogany desks of quaint pattern. Each desk bears a silver plate with the occupant’s name engraved upon it.
“Do the Republicans sit on the left of the Speaker here, and the Democrats on the right, as in the House?” questioned Alfaretta, very proud of herself for having remembered what had been told her in the other room.
“Yes, but there is no Speaker in the Senate,” answered Mr. Ludlow.
“Who is it, then, that uses that beautifully carved high backed chair on that little platform there?” asked Dorothy.
“The president of the Senate is the Vice-President of the United States,” said Mrs. Calvert, smiling and thinking that the girls ought to know more about these things, for they were shockingly lacking in knowledge of all the fundamental principles of the workings of the government.
“Who are all these statues of?” asked Alfaretta, pointing to the niches in the walls.
“These are statues of all the vice-presidents,” answered Mrs. Calvert again.
“Outside here are many interesting things that you will all like to see,” said Mr. Ludlow. “Tothe right here is the famous portrait of Washington, and opposite, one of John Adams.”
“Is that Benjamin Franklin?” inquired Ruth, looking at a large marble statue at the foot of the eastern staircase, when they had passed through the door situated between the two portraits.
“Yes, and the picture on the wall of the stair landing is a very famous one. It is of Commander Perry at the battle of Lake Erie. Perry is seen transferring himself and his flag from his sinking flagship ‘Lawrence’ to the ‘Niagara,’ when he won that great victory. This transfer was made under fire. Perry’s younger brother, Matthew, then a midshipman, is depicted here as entreating his brother and commander not to expose himself too recklessly,” said Mr. Ludlow in the way of explaining this picture.
“And the faces of the sailors are drawn from once well-known employes about the Capitol,” added Aunt Betty. “My guide book tells me that.”
“This vestibule opens at its inner end into the Senate reception room. The one thing of interest in this room,” said Mr. Ludlow, when they had entered, “is the picture on the south wall. Itis of Washington, in conference with Jefferson and Hamilton.”
“Isn’t the room pretty! What luxurious chairs, soft sofas, beautiful rugs, and those cream colored curtains!” exclaimed Ruth.
“Whose room is this?” asked Dorothy, who was becoming tired, and, wanting to move on more rapidly, had gone ahead.
“This next room is the President’s room,” answered Aunt Betty. “It is the custom of the President to sit here during the last day of a Congressional session in order to be ready to sign bills requiring immediate attention. The portraits are those of Washington and his first cabinet members.”
From here they ascended to the gallery floor by way of the western grand staircase, at the foot of which stands the statue of John Hancock. In the wall of the landing is Walker’s painting, “The Storming of Chepultepec.” The scene is during the Mexican War, when it was captured by Scott’s army.
The rooms here in the gallery are numerous committee rooms not open to the public, so they all passed on down the corridor to the interesting rooms that contain Morau’s celebrated picturesof the canyons of the Colorado and of the Yellowstone, which were painted by actual study of the scenes. Those familiar with these marvelous regions of the country recognize that the coloring is by no means overly vivid, and that the drawings are most accurate and natural.
In the adjoining hall is the painting of the encounter between the Monitor and the Merrimac. This picture is the only exception to the rule that no reminder of the Civil War should be placed in the Capitol; an exception due to the fact that this was in reality a drawn battle, where the courage of the contestants was conspicuously equal, and where the naval methods of old found their grave. Its historic interest is, therefore, world-wide.
“The bust, there, Dorothy,” said Aunty Betty, “is of John A. Dix, afterward a major general. It was he, who, when he was Secretary of the Treasury early in the uncivil war, sent to one of his special representatives in a Southern State the famous order containing the words, ‘If anyone attempts to haul down the American flag, shoot him on the spot,’ which so thrilled patriotic hearts.”
“From here let us go to the Supreme Court,”said Mr. Ludlow. “That will finish our tour of the Capitol.”
A small elevator took them down to the main floor, where they walked along the corridor, viewing the portraits of Thomas Jefferson and Patrick Henry.
The Supreme Court of the United States now uses the chamber in the old Capitol which was originally designed for the Senate. The background is a row of columns of variegated gray Potomac marble, with white Ionic capitals. In the centre is the chair of the chief justice, behind which are draped crimson curtains surmounted by a hovering eagle. On the dias below is the long “bench” of the most august court in the land.
“One formal custom here will be of interest,” said Mr. Dauntrey. “On court days the justices enter the room in procession precisely at noon. They wear voluminous black silk gowns, and sit in a prescribed order with the chief justice, of course, in the centre.”
“There. I think we have made a very careful tour of the Capitol. I think we have missed nothing at all of importance,” said Mr. Ludlow.“But I guess by now, you are all tired and anxious to be back to the hotel.”
“What time is it, I wonder?” said Dorothy to herself, and turning to Mr. Ludlow said, “Mr. Ludlow, I feel as if it were time for lunch.”
“Why, it’s one-thirty o’clock,” said Mr. Ludlow. “I am surprised that the time has gone so quickly, so let’s hurry back to the hotel, for we are already late.”
All were hungry and anxious to get back to their luncheon, but no one regretted a single moment spent in this most interesting place.
That afternoon Dorothy devoted to practice, giving special attention to the three pieces she was to play at the concert, two of which had been given place on the program. The third was to be held in readiness in case she needed to respond to an encore. Aunt Betty and Alfy listened to her and expressed their approval. They were never limited in their praise of her work, which always seemed to them beyond criticism.
“Good-bye, for a while,” called Dorothy, at the end of a stanza. “I will only be gone a few minutes, I hope. Mr. Ludlow, in my letter of instructions, told me to come to him at four o’clock. I have to play over my selections to him so he can criticize them.”
Dorothy walked slowly down the hall and knocked on the sitting room door. In a moment, to her surprise, Mr. Dauntrey opened it.
“Good afternoon,” said he. “Now, I shallhave the pleasure of listening to you play, I hope.”
“Mr. Ludlow said that I was to come here at four o’clock. I think he wants me to play my selections over for him,” answered Dorothy.
“Yes, you are right,” said Mr. Ludlow, from his large easy rocking chair by the open window, which overlooked a court. “Yes. Stand over there and start in at once.”
Dorothy, thus enjoined, took up her violin and began playing. She finished her first piece without any interruptions on the part of Mr. Ludlow. She was about to start the second piece when he called to her to stop.
“Play the introduction to that piece again and a little louder, also a little firmer,” he ordered.
She did as she was told.
“That’s a little better,” he said, when she had finished. “But I should play the introduction still louder, so as to make a marked contrast when the melody proper starts in, by playing that very softly, like someone singing way off in the distance. And one more thing; in the last part, when you have that staccato melody, play that sharper. Now, try the piece all over again.”
Dorothy answered, “Yes,” and then played again, trying to do just as Mr. Ludlow asked herto, and when she finished she stood still, saying nothing, just waiting to hear what Mr. Ludlow would say. If she expected a word of praise she was to be disappointed.
“Very well, try the next one,” was all Mr. Ludlow said.
So the girl once more took up her violin, and filled the room with melody. This time she played her piece, so she thought, very poorly, in part, because of Mr. Dauntrey. She seemed to feel his eyes on her, and it made her nervous.
“Very well,” said Mr. Ludlow, much to her surprise. “That will be all for this afternoon. And, Miss Dorothy, try not to get nervous or excited to-night. I expect you to do your very best.”
“I will try,” smiled back Dorothy. “Good afternoon.”
Just as she reached the door, she saw Ruth, who stepped back into the shadow of the hall.
Ruth questioned, “Is he cross? And is Mr. Dauntrey there?”
“Mr. Ludlow isn’t cross, but he’s very business-like. And Mr. Dauntrey is in there, and I wish he hadn’t been,” answered Dorothy.
“Oh, dear,” exclaimed Ruth, “I just know hewill be so cross with me, for if Mr. Dauntrey is in there I just can’t sing. He thinks I am a wonderful singer, and I know that I’m not. Still, I hate to have him think that I can’t sing at all.”
“You will do all right, dear,” comforted Dorothy. “Just think you are alone, and forget everything and everybody.”
“Very well,” answered Ruth, “and good-bye. I must go in and bear it,” saying which she walked up to the door and knocked.
Dorothy walked down the hall toward her own rooms, then she turned, took the elevator downstairs, and bought a postal, one showing a picture of the capitol. This she took to her writing desk, addressed it, and wrote just this, “Arrived safe. Visited the capitol this morning. Will write later. With love, Dorothy.”
She placed a stamp on it and mailed it, then hurried upstairs to her room again.
“I am rather tired,” she said to her aunt and Alfy, who were reading, “I think I shall rest a few minutes before I dress for dinner. We need to have dinner real early to-night, as we are expected to be at the National Theater at 7.30 p. m. Mr. Ludlow is to give us each a program, then, and tell us of any last orders he may have for us.”
“Shall I get your things all out and have everything all ready for you?” inquired Alfy.
“Yes, please.”
“What dress do you want to wear?” asked Alfy.
“I think you had better wear the pink one, dear,” suggested Mrs. Calvert.
“Very well, the pink one, Alfy,” called Dorothy.
“I will have all the things you need ready; shoes—I mean slippers, stockings, handkerchiefs, and gloves,” called back Alfy, as by this time Dorothy had reached her room, and was preparing for her rest.
Both Mrs. Calvert and Alfaretta continued to read for quite some time, and finally when she thought it was time for Alfy to get dressed, Aunt Betty said:
“Alfy, I think you had better start to get dressed, now, and as you are to lay out Dorothy’s things for her, I do not think you will have any too much time.”
“Surely, Aunt Betty, I will begin at once. I was so interested in my book that I forgot my duties,” answered Alfy, and she started into thenext room and commenced getting Dorothy’s things ready first.
When she had finished this task, she walked back into the sitting room again and inquired, “Aunt Betty, I have finished getting Dorothy’s things ready. Will you please now tell me what you would like to have me wear?”
“I think you might wear your little white dress, with the pretty blue sash and ribbon of the same color, for your hair,” answered Mrs. Calvert. “And you might wear white shoes and stockings. We are merely going to be part of the audience, to-night, so I hardly think we need dress very much.”
“All right,” answered Alfy, cheerily, and started away again, humming a little tune under her breath. She was pleased to think she could wear her new white dress, with the pretty blue sash. And she thought she would ask Dorothy to tie the blue ribbon around her hair, as Dorothy always did such things so much daintier than she did. Still singing, she started to dress in earnest.
It wasn’t long before Dorothy awoke from her nap, and soon the two girls were dressed and ready to help each other with the finishing touches.Together they made short and quick work of this.
Mrs. Calvert looked up as they entered the room, and said, “Come here, and kiss me, dears. You both look very sweet; very pretty, indeed.”
“Do you and Alfy want to be audience again, while I play over my pieces once more?” asked Dorothy. “I’m sure Mr. Ludlow didn’t quite like the way I played one of them this afternoon.”
“Of course we do,” answered Aunt Betty. “We will each sit down and listen very attentively.”
“I will play first the last piece on the program,” announced Dorothy.
“Very well,” said Mrs. Calvert, smiling encouragingly at the girl.
Dorothy gave careful attention to her work, and played one after the other of the three selections through, pausing long enough between each piece so that they might know she was about to begin the next. The one Mr. Ludlow had taken exception to and criticised, that afternoon, she played last, paying strict attention to the parts he had indicated as needing correction.
When she had finished, she laid down her violin, and came and stood in front of her aunt, questioning:
“Do you think I played them well enough? Did I do better than I did this afternoon before I went in to see Mr. Ludlow, and did you notice the difference in the playing of the last piece?”
“My, what a lot of questions,” said Aunt Betty, laughing. “Now, to answer them all: Yes, I do think you played much better just now than you did before. And I think Mr. Ludlow’s corrections in that last piece improve it greatly. You see, he considers your work from the viewpoint of the audience.”
“I am glad you like the correction. I think it is better by far, myself. But I just wanted to get your opinion on it before I was quite satisfied,” replied Dorothy. “I guess, to change the subject, that we are all ready for dinner, so let’s go down; maybe some of the others are ready also.”
They found that all of the party were already at dinner, so they joined them in a quiet meal. Each seemed imbued with the responsibility that rested on their shoulders.
Dorothy, leaving her aunt and Alfaretta to follow her to the theater, started early with Ruth and Mr. Ludlow.
On the way to the theater, Mr. Ludlow said, “Just one final word of instruction: Stand eithera little to the right or a little to the left of the centre of the stage; never just in the centre. It looks better from the house side. And try not to get nervous. Mr. Dauntrey will give you each a program. And now, I think you are all right.”
Mr. Dauntrey, joining them on their arrival, gave each a program. Dorothy noted that she was to be the third, and was quite pleased to find that she came in the first half of the program. She always liked to play and then go out and sit with her aunt and listen to the remainder of the recital. The programs were beautifully printed in gold and color, on a heavy white paper, on the cover of which was an eagle. The sheets were tied together with a red, white and blue ribbon. The contents read as follows:
PART I.1.Songs—“Ave Maria”Gounod“La Palonia”GradierMiss Mary Robbia.2.Piano Solo—“Am Meer”Schubert“Caprice Brilliant”LeybachMr. C. B. Carleton.3.Violin Solo—Adagio from “Moonlight Sonata”BeethovenMeistersingerWagnerMiss Dorothy Calvert.4.Songs—“Chanson de Florian”Godard“Ah, That We Two Were a-Maying”SmithMiss Ruth Boothington.PART II.5.Classical Dances—“Hungarian Dance”Brahms“Dance of the Sylphs”BerliozMiss Florence Winter.6.Trio Songs—“The Psalms”Faure“Serenade”Schubert“Song of the Toreador”Bizet“Lost Chord”SullivanRendered by Trio: Miss Dozzi, Mrs. Helmholz, Signor de Peiuzzi.
Rendered by Trio: Miss Dozzi, Mrs. Helmholz, Signor de Peiuzzi.
“Are you going out in front to sit with your aunt and Alfaretta, after you have finished?” inquired Ruth, who was standing beside Dorothy.
“Yes, do you want to come out with me?” Dorothy asked.
“Yes. If I may,” answered Ruth. “Will you wait here in the wings till I have finished singing, and then we can go out together. I come right after you on the program.”
“I am anxious to see Miss Winter’s dance,” said Dorothy.
“And so am I, and to hear that trio sing,” answered Ruth.
“Do you want to see the stage?” called Mr. Dauntrey. “Come now, if you do. Mr. Ludlow wants you all to go and try it out; that is, I mean, practice making an entrance.”
The girls walked over in the direction in which Mr. Dauntrey led.
“Oh!” exclaimed Ruth, when the vista of the stage came into view. “Isn’t it pretty!”
“It is, indeed,” acquiesced Dorothy.
The stage was a spacious one. To the right was placed the grand piano, around which palms were artistically arranged. In the centre, and way to the rear, as a background, hung a large American flag. On each side of the flag ran a regular column of palms. Little plants andflowers were on the stage in such profusion as to transform it into a veritable fairyland.
“Wasn’t that a nice idea to put the flag back there?” said Ruth.
“I think the stage decorations are very artistic, and I am sure with such surroundings, everyone should do their very best,” said Mr. Dauntrey.
Just then they looked at the clock in the wings and saw that it was 8.15 p. m., the time announced to commence. They all walked off the stage and back into the wings.
As the curtain arose, Miss Robbia advanced to do her part.
Just then Dorothy heard Mr. Ludlow say, “I think the President is here.”
“Oh, I hope he does come,” answered Miss Ruth.
But Dorothy, as she went back to await her turn, was not quite so sure. It seemed a serious thing to play before the greatest dignitary in the land.
The first number at last was finished, then the second, then it was Dorothy’s turn. When she was on the stage, she looked out into the audience and there, sure enough, in the large, beautifully decorated box, sat the President and his party.
Surely the presence of such a notable guest should prompt her to do her best. She wondered if the fact of his being there would make her nervous. Then she thought of Jim and of what he would say, and then once launched upon her theme, she forgot everything else. Her whole soul, it seemed to the audience, was engulfed in her art. Never had instrument fashioned by hand been more responsive to human touch.
When she had finished playing, she heard vaguely the applause, and went out again before the curtain to bow her acknowledgment. Then a large bunch of American beauty roses were handed to her. A very pretty picture indeed did she make with the large bouquet of flowers in her arms.
When the first half of the concert was over, Mr. Ludlow came back and said: “The President would like Miss Ruth and Miss Dorothy to come to his box; he would like to congratulate you both.”
“Ah, that is pleasing, indeed,” exclaimed Dorothy.
“Surely we are honored,” added Ruth. They followed Mr. Ludlow out to the President’s box, where he and his family and a few friends sat.When they reached the box, the President rose and said, smilingly:
“I want to congratulate you young people on your success. It has been a great pleasure for me to hear you. Your playing, Miss Calvert, was entrancing.”
All the eyes of the audience were now turned on the presidential box, and there was a craning of necks, trying to see what was going on there.
The incident was soon over, the President had shaken hands with each, and Dorothy at last found time to look at the card attached to her roses. She imagined Aunt Betty had sent them to her. But she was very much surprised and greatly pleased when she saw Jim’s name on them, and wondered how he could have sent them. She hugged them close to her and kissed each pretty rose.
Just then Ruth came up and said, “I am ready now, dear, let’s go out in front. My! What beautiful flowers you have. Who sent them to you?”
“A friend,” answered Dorothy, blushing.
“Wasn’thethoughtful to remember to telegraph them here for you,” laughed Ruth. “I wish I had a friend to send me beautiful flowers,” she added.
“Who gave you those beautiful violets you are wearing, that just match your eyes?” questioned Dorothy.
“Oh, Mr. Ludlow sent them. He always does, because he knows I love violets, but that’s different from having American beauty roses sent to one,” Ruth replied.
By this time they were around in front and had quietly sat down in the two seats reserved for them beside Aunt Betty and Alfaretta. Miss Winter had come on the stage preparatory to performing her dances.
She was a very pretty little girl, with blonde hair, and had a small, but well formed figure. The stage was cleared and the lights dull. She danced about the stage in such a light, breezy way that it seemed to the audience that she was wafted about by a spring breeze. She danced most artistically, and her rendering of the two dances was so perfect that the audience applauded again and again, though in response, she just made some curtain bows and retired.
The trio, which Ruth so wished to hear, came next. Their rendition was a long and exquisite one, and Ruth now realized why Mr. Ludlow hadput them last. She turned to Dorothy and whispered, “Aren’t they wonderful!”
“Yes,” answered Dorothy. “They are the best we have.”
“That’s why,” explained Ruth, “Mr. Ludlow put them last, so they would leave a good impression of the whole concert in the people’s mind. I feel as if I just couldn’t sing at all.”
The concert was now over, and the audience indicated by the volume of applause that rang out that it was a great success. Everyone had done just what they thought was their very best, and many had received beautiful flowers. It wasn’t long before they were all home.
As Mr. Ludlow had planned for them to visit Mount Vernon and the White House the next day it necessitated their packing partly, so as to be ready to take the train for the next city in which they were to give a concert. As the concert had been such a great success here, they were very hopeful regarding the rest of the tour.
The next morning they were all ready in time for the 10 a. m. boat for Mount Vernon. They had agreed the night before to see Mount Vernon first and leave the White House till last, as the majority cared more to see the former.
On their way they passed the City of Alexandria, and were told that here the Union troops began the invasion of Virginia soil, and here fell Elsworth the first notable victim of the war.
The old red brick hotel, where he pulled down the flag of the Confederates was pointed out to the party by the guide. Also the guide pointedout to them Christ Church, which Washington and his family had attended.
Then, a little further on, among some peach orchards, begins the Mount Vernon estate, which in Washington’s time contained about eight thousand acres. The estate is on the right bank of the Potomac, just sixteen miles below Washington.
The land was part of an extensive grant to John Washington, the first of the family who came to America in middle of the seventeenth century. The estate descended to George, when he was barely more than a boy. He continued to develop and beautify the property until the breaking out of the war of 1776. Then the ability he had shown in the Virginia militia called him to the service of the United Colonies. He returned to Mount Vernon at the close of the war, but had to leave it, and take up his duties as first President of the Republic.
He was buried upon his estate and the family declined to accept the subsequent invitation of Congress to transfer the body to the undercroft of the Capitol.
After Mrs. Washington’s death, the property descended finally to John Augustine Washington,who proposed to dispose of it. A Southern lady, Miss Ann Pamela Cunningham, secured the refusal, and after failing to interest Congress in her proposal that the Government should buy and preserve it as a memorial, succeeded in arousing the women of the country. An association of these women, named the “Mount Vernon Ladies’ Association of the Union,” with representatives from every State was incorporated, and in 1858 paid $200,000 for the central portion of the property, some 200 acres, covenanting to hold it in perpetuity. An admission fee of 25 cents charged all visitors goes to the payment of current expenses.
The tomb of Washington is the first object of attention. It stands immediately at the head of the path from the landing. Its position, small dimensions, and plain form of brick, were indicated by Washington in his will.
The front part, closed by plain iron gates, through which anyone may look, contains two plain sarcophagi, each excavated from a single block of marble. The one in the centre of the little enclosure contains the remains of the Father of His Country, within the little mahogany coffin in which they were originally put. Atthe left is that of Martha Washington. Four times a year these iron gates are opened by the authorities, and wreaths and other floral offerings are deposited therein.
The mansion itself, stands upon considerable eminence, overlooking broad reaches of the historic Potomac. It is built of oak and pictures have made its architectural features familiar everywhere.
When Mount Vernon was acquired by the ladies’ association, it was not only out of repair, but the furniture had been distributed to various heirs, or sold and scattered. An effort was made to preserve as much as possible, and to restore as closely as might be the original homelike appearance of the house. It has been impossible to do this absolutely, and a great many other articles of furniture, adornment and historical interest have been added. In order to do this, the various State branches of the association were invited to undertake to furnish one room each, and many have done so. The names of these States are associated with the apartments they have taken charge of. A considerable quantity of furniture, as well as personal relics of Georgeand Martha Washington, are here, however, especially in the bedrooms where they died.
“Ah,” exclaimed Dorothy as she entered the hall. “Just look at those swords. Did they all belong to Washington?”
“Yes, dear, the one in the middle of the three,” answered Mrs. Calvert, “was the one he wore when he resigned his commission at Annapolis, and when he was inaugurated at New York.”
“And what is this key hanging here for?” asked Alfaretta.
“That key has a most interesting history,” answered Mr. Ludlow. “That is the key to the Bastile, that prison in Paris, which was so justly hated by the people, and which was demolished by the mob. Lafayette sent it to Washington in a letter.”
Next they turned to the east and entered the music room. This room is under the care of the State of Ohio.
“Oh, just see all the things in here!” cried Dorothy. “Look at that dear harpsichord.”
“That harpsichord was given to Nellie Custis by Washington,” answered Aunt Betty.
They next entered the west parlor. Above the mantel piece is carved the coat-of-arms of the family.The carpet here is a rug presented by Louis XVI to Washington. It was woven to order, in dark green with orange stars; its center piece is the seal of the United States, and the border is a floriated design. This room was refurnished by the State of Illinois.
“Look, dear, see the spinet there,” said Mrs. Calvert to Dorothy.
“Yes, and what beautiful candlesticks those are standing there on that queer table,” answered Dorothy.
“What is this next room?” inquired Alfaretta.
“This room,” answered Aunt Betty, “was Mrs. Washington’s sitting room, and was refurnished in the manner of the period by Georgia. But the dining room is what I want you to especially notice. The furniture here was that originally used by Washington—”
“Next is Washington’s library, for I see books in there,” announced Ruth.
“This is one of the most important rooms in the house,” said Mr. Ludlow, as they entered the banquet hall.
Its length is the whole width of the mansion, and its richly decorated ceiling is full two stories high.
“The ornate fireplace and mantel of Italian marble and workmanship once occupied a place in a country home in England,” said Mrs. Calvert; “someone brought it over the ocean and gave it to Washington, and it is worth examining.”
They now ascended the stairs to the second floor to visit the bedrooms.
“Let’s go first to the bedroom where Washington died,” said Mr. Ludlow. “It is almost exactly as it was when he lived here.”
“There is the large four-poster,” said Dorothy.
“Yes, dear, and these pillows here on the chairs were worked by Martha Washington herself,” added Aunt Betty.
They next went to see the room where Martha Washington died. It is directly above the one occupied by Washington. This is fitted up as nearly as possible as it was when occupied by Martha, but only the corner washstand really belonged to her.
They visited the other bedrooms, noticing the important things of interest in them, and then started back to the city, where they had late luncheon and went out immediately after to visit the White House. They had very little time leftand wanted to get just a glimpse of the President’s home.
Everyone is familiar with the appearance of the White House. The grounds consist of some eight acres sloping down to the Potomac. The immediate gardens were early attended to as is shown by the size of the trees.
One park, near the house, known as the white lot, is open to the public, and here, in warm weather, the marine band gives outdoor concerts. Here also is the sloping terrace just behind the White House, that the children of the city gather upon on Easter to roll their colored eggs.
Coming up from Pennsylvania avenue along the semi-circular drive that leads up from the open gates, they entered the stately vestibule through the front portico. The middle upper window from which Lincoln made so many impromptu but memorable addresses during the war was pointed out. The doorkeepers here direct callers upon the President up the broad staircase. They formed the company into one party and conducted them, under their guidance, around the building.
They were taken into the East room, originally designed for a banquet hall, which is used nowas a state reception room. It has eight beautiful marble mantels, surmounted by tall mirrors, and large crystal chandeliers from each of the three great panels of the ceiling.
Full length portraits of George and Martha Washington are among the pictures on the wall. Every visitor is told that Mrs. Madison cut the former painting from out the frame with a pair of shears to preserve it from the enemy when she fled from the town in 1814. But in her own letters describing her flight she says that Mr. Custis, the nephew of Washington, hastened over from Arlington to save the precious portrait and that a servant cut the outer frame with an axe so the canvas could be removed, stretched on the inner frame.
Adjoining the East room is the Green room, named so from the general color scheme which has been traditional. The ceiling is ornamented with an exquisite design in which musical instruments are entwined in a garland with cherubs and flowers.
Next to this, and somewhat larger and oval, is the Blue room. The ornaments here are presents from the French. The mantel clock was a present from Napoleon to Lafayette, and was givenby the latter to the United States. The fine vases were presented by the president of the French Republic, on the occasion of the opening of the Franco-American cable. It is here the President stands when holding receptions and ceremonials.
The Red room, west of the Blue room, is square and the same size as the Green parlor. It is more homelike than the others because of its piano and mantel ornaments, abundant furniture and pictures. It is used as a reception room and private parlor by the ladies of the mansion.
In the State dining room at the end of the corridor, elaborate dinners are usually given once or twice a week, during the winter, and they are brilliant affairs. Plants and flowers from the conservatories are supplied in limitless quantities and the table is laden with a rare display of plate, porcelain and cut glass. It presents a beautiful appearance and is an effective setting for the elaborate toilets of the ladies and their glittering jewels.
The table service is exceedingly beautiful and is adorned with various representations of the flora and fauna of America. The new set of cut glass, consisting of five hundred and twenty separatepieces, was made especially for the White House, and on each piece, from the mammoth centerpiece and punch bowl to the tiny salt cellars, is engraved the coat-of-arms of the United States. The table can be made to accommodate as many as fifty-four persons, but the usual number of guests is from thirty to forty.
A door leads into the conservatory, which is always a beauty spot. Just opposite the state dining room is the private or family dining room.
The offices of the President and his secretaries are on the second floor at the eastern end. The President’s room and Cabinet room are in the executive office west of the White House, so the guide told them, and a large force of watchmen including police officers are on duty inside the mansion at all hours, and a continuous patrol is maintained by the local police of the grounds immediately surrounding the mansion.
Thinking they had seen as much as they could safely spare time for, they hurried away back to the hotel, where they all hastily packed the rest of their things and sent them at once to the station. They soon started on their considerable journey, and almost nightly concerts till they should reach Chicago.