W
WELL, SISTERS, that afternoon the distinguished party mentioned in the papers got out of a carriage, under that square roof in front of the White House steps, and walked with slow, stately steps into the ante-room that I told you of. One of them—a tall, imperial-looking person—was robed in a flowing pink silk, just a little open at the throat, where it was finished off with white lace with a snow-flake figure on it. A long curl fell down this lady's left shoulder, and there was a good deal of frizzing about the lofty forehead, and any amount of puffs back of that.
The other lady—who naturally kept a little in the background—wore white satin, cut to order about the neck and shoulders, and a lot of white stones on her bosom and in her hair, that shone like fire in a dark night.
The man at the door seemed to know us, for he said; "If it's Miss P. Frost and her friends, walk this way."
We did walk that way, and drew up in that lemon-shaped room, which is so blue and white that you seem to think yourself in the clouds when you go in. Right in the centre of the room is a great big round ring of seats, cushioned all over with blue silk; and right up from the middle of it rose a splendid flower-pot, crowded full of flowers—white, pink, and all sorts of colors—with great long green leaves a-streaming over the edges, and broad, white lilies, that seemed cut out of ragged snow, a-spreading themselves among the green leaves.
A hive of ladies, all in long-trained dresses, and necks according to order, were sitting or standing or moving across theroom, looking as proud and grand as peacocks on a sunshiny day. Among them was the President's wife—a real nice, sociable lady—who looked just as she ought to in a black velvet, long-trained dress. In fact, of all the women in that room, I liked her the best, she is so sweet and kind in her manners. The minute we came in she turned round and gave us a warm, honest smile, which was about the only downright honest thing I've seen in Washington, as yet.
"Miss Frost," says she, "I'm delighted to see you and your relations. My friend Senator Edmunds has told me about you!"
"Thank you," says I. "No one need want a better recommendation than he can give. We think the world of him in our State."
"I'm glad to hear that," says she. "We think a great deal of him too; in fact, Vermont honors herself in the Senate. But you are looking at the flowers; they are all Japanese, in honor of the Embassy."
"You don't say so," says I; "did the Japanese bring the flowers along with them from Japan?"
She laughed a sweet, good-natured little laugh, and says she:
"Oh, no; we raise them in the hot-houses."
Just then there was a bustle in the ante-room, and I saw a slow line of queer-looking little folks filing along toward the east room. Mrs. Grant had turned to talk to Cousin E. E., and I just slid out into the green-room, and stood inside the door to see what all the fuss was about.
Standing against the great window, nearly opposite to me, I saw the President of these United States, with a lot of men around him in black clothes, and farther on stood another lot with their coats all covered over with gold and stars of precious stones a-hanging one after another on their bosoms, and some wore swords, and some didn't; but I tell you there was such a blaze of colors and flash of gold that it seemed to light up the great long room like sunshine, which was convenient, for there wasn't enough in the sky that day to light a family to bed.
While I was wondering what all this magnificence and glory meant, Cousin Dempster happened to see me, and came up to the door.
"What on earth does all that signify in a free country," says I. "It looks like a circus. Do they mean to ride in there? I don't see no horses; and it seems to me their hoofs will spoil the carpet when they come in. Are the Japanese people fond of horses?"
"I don't know about that; the President is," whispers Cousin Dempster. "But never you mind that; he keeps 'em in his stables, and they're not likely to come here."
"Then these fellows in the gold coats will only do rough-and-tumble, I suppose," says I.
"Hush!" says Cousin D., looking round to be sure that no one heard me. "The rough-and-tumble has been pretty much done up in the Senate this winter."
"Oh!" says I.
"There will be a good deal of it in Philadelphia and Cincinnati, and all over the country, I'm afraid, for I don't think General Grant cares much about that sort of gymnastics."
"Jim what?" says I.
"Turning over and over from one side to the other!" says he.
"I think he's right," says I. "A circus can't be much without horses and hoops, and that fellow with the painted face; but why don't the show begin, such as it is? What do they stand there for, looking lonesome as a cider-press in winter?"
"My dear cousin," says he, looking at me sort of pitiful, "do remember it is the ambassadors of all Europe, to say nothing of South America, that you are speaking of."
"Ambassadors," says I; "so you call them by that name here, do you?"
"They represent governments, kings, and queens."
"I've seen that done in the theatre beautifully. You remember when we went to see 'Julius Cæsar,' who wanted tobe King of Rome; but I didn't know as they ever did such high-mightiness off on horseback, or through a hoop," says I.
"But, Phœmie, these men are genuine. For instance, that gentleman with so much red and gold about him represents Queen Victoria."
"What, in such clothes—hat, coat, and all the rest? I don't believe it," says I. "You won't impose upon me to that extent."
"Not her person," says he, a-getting out of patience, "but her Government."
W
WELL, SISTERS, that minute there was a commotion in the room. Those who had been leaning against the wall stood up, and the strange-looking men Cousin D. called ambassadors straightened up and fluttered a little, as peacocks spread their feathers when the sun breaks out.
Before I could speak, in came the highest cockalorum among the Japanese, which wasn't very high after all.
"Good gracious!" says I to Cousin D. "The man out there told me the ladies must all go into the blue room. Here I've been hiding behind the door, so as not to be seen, and the first Japanese stranger that comes in is a female woman! Goodness gracious! and so are all the rest!"
"No, no," says Cousin D., "it's a man—they're all men."
"With those Dolly Vardens on?" says I. "Do you think I was brought up in the woods, to take doves for night-hawks?"
"It's the Japanese fashion," says he.
"For men to dress in—well, skirts?"
"Certainly. Don't you see that the lower skirt is formed into loose trousers that two or three of 'em wear?"
I did look, and saw that the black silk underskirt some of these heathen Japanese wore was puckered up a little around the ankles, just enough to show off two peaked shoes, that must have been lovely wearing for a foot that was all great toe, but awkward for one that wasn't. In fact, I began to be awfully puzzled about the dress of the first one that came along, for above the skirt of purple silk was a Dolly Varden, all but the puffing out, of black silk, spotted over with white needlework. To top off all, this Japanee wore the funniest sort of a thing on the head, like a shiny black wash-bowl, with a hole in it, from which a stumpy black ball stuck up in the air—about the pertest-looking thing you ever saw. Around the edge was a white binding, all curlicued off with queer black figures, and a lot of stiff black stuff streamed down from behind, like a crow's tail.
This dress was tied round the waist with a silk scarf, and to that hung a long, black sword, sideways, with the point sticking out behind, furious as could be.
Only two of the Japanese were dressed in these frocks, figured off with white, with purple—well—skirts, under. Three others had thin purple—well—skirts, puckered up into baggy trousers, which showed off their peaked, hawk-bill shoes beautifully. These five high Japanese came marching one after another—Indian file—looking as solemn as eight-day clocks. Then came five more with black Dolly's, bound with purple, and with purple figures worked on the backs, and the underskirts puckered up into trousers. Every one of them had swords, and they all marched straight up to the President with them dangling by their sides.
"There, do you see that," whispered Cousin Dempster. "Are you satisfied now? Women do not, as a general thing, wear swords."
"They may be strong-minded," says I.
Before Cousin Dempster had time to speak, the little Japanee that they called Iwakura had got right before the President. There he made a low bow, and, as if jerked by the samestring, the whole row, one behind the other, bowed to each other's backs. Then Mr. Fish, a tall, fine-looking gentleman, they called Secretary of State, came forward and introduced the head Japanee to the President. Then came another bow, and another, and another, till the whole ten got into a row near the President. Then General Grant and Japanee Iwakura made beautiful speeches at each other. Then there came more bows—low, slow, and delightfully graceful—and then I gathered up the skirt of my pink silk and fled, like a bird, into the blue room, where the ladies were waiting like pigeons anxious for corn.
After all, I think those Japanese must have been men. The ladies got into such a flutter as they came in, and took so much pains to make themselves agreeable, which it isn't likely they would have done if those scull caps and swords hadn't meant something masculine. Then there was more low bows, and we ladies swept back our trains, took steps and curtsied just as easy and graceful as they did, and Mrs. Grant talked a little with a Japanee. He told what she said to the others, and what she did say was just sweet and natural, which was a proof that she didn't consider the Japanese as strong-minded females in the least. So after we came out I told Cousin Dempster that I was satisfied that they were as great men as little fellows, five feet and under, could be, and I asked him, in confidence, if any of them were so unfortunate as to be unmarried?
I
IT is wonderful, dear sisters, how one thing grows out of another in this world. When it got about that I had been invited to help the Mrs. President to entertain the Japanese dignitaries, every lady in Washington that was going to give a party sent me and my Cousin Dempster an invite, till we began to think no more of square letters, with monographs on them, than you care for chestnut burrs when the nuts have dropped out.
But there was one of these documents that we rather jumped at, because it came from a man that was almost as good as born in Vermont. Maine is, after all, something of a New England State, and Mr. Brooks, member of Congress from New York, the man I spoke of, came from there, and had a seat in the Legislature of that State when he was only just of age. So we all rather took to him, as New England people will take to each other when they scatter off into other States, and do honor to the one they come from.
The minute his square document came, Cousin Dempster said at once that he would accept, and I, who had done honors with Mrs. President, made up my mind there, right on the nail, to do just as much for the Brooks family.
Well, I never took off my pink silk after we came from the White House, only bunched it up a little more behind when we went down to dinner, and after that screwed up my hair for a new friz, while I took a nap in the great puffy easy-chair that stood in my room; for this doing honors hour after hour is tiresome to the—well—ankles.
Having my dress on, I took something of a nap, and seemed to be dragged out of my sleep by the hair, when E. E. came to call me, which was, maybe, owing to the tightness of the crimping wires that caught on the cushion when I jumped up,and gave me an awful jerk. But I soon got over that, and gave my hair an extra frizzle before I went out, which was improving to my general appearance, and very relieving to the head.
Cousin E. E. had put on a span-new dress, observing, modestly, that a genius could appear in anything, but she hadn't the position which would stand wearing the same dress twice.
"For the sake of New England," says she, "I mean to do my best," which she did, in silk, like a ripe cherry, with wave over wave of black lace over it, and a bunch of white stones on her bosom, burning like a furnace when the light struck them.
Well, once again we packed ourselves into a carriage, and then, huddled up in waves of red silk, rolled off to Mr. Brooks's house, which isn't far from the President's homestead.
"There don't seem to be many here yet," says I, as we got out of the carriage, and went up the high steps, holding our dresses with both hands.
Before Cousin D. could answer, the door was opened, and the man inside waved his hand, which had a span-clean white glove on it, and told us to walk upstairs, which we did, dropping our dresses as we went, till they trailed half way down the steps in waves that the fellow with white gloves on must have thought sumptuous.
Two or three young ladies were in the dressing-room, and that was all. I shook out my dress before the glass, gave my hair an extra fluff, and went into the hall, where Cousin Dempster was standing.
"There don't seem to be many ladies here," says I; "in fact, none to speak of."
"Oh," says he, "they're not expected. You and my wife are exceptions."
"Just so," says I.
"This is a stag party," says he.
"A what?"
"A stag party, where ladies sometimes manage to see and listen. You will have a chance from the back windows, I dare say; only sit low and keep still, the flags will conceal you."
"Oh! it's a stag party at the table, and crouching dears all around," says I, "is it?"
Cousin Dempster laughed till he nearly choked.
"That's capital," says he. "You are getting too bright for anything."
I couldn't quite make out what I'd said that set him off so, but I suppose he did, for he kept on laughing all the way downstairs, and the fun hadn't left his face when he introduced me to Mr. Brooks, who was in the room we entered, talking with some ladies that had come to look on and help his daughter to talk to the Japaneses, who don't understand a word of English.
Sisters, I really think we New England people ought to be proud of Mr. Brooks, for he's not only tall and large, and real handsome, but he's a self-made man, having worked out his own education by the hardest toil. He edited a daily paper before he was twenty years old; was a member of the Maine legislature when he was twenty-three; and travelled all over Europe on foot before he was twenty-five. He has been in Congress, off and on, twelve years, besides travelling all round the world between whiles, which brought him hand-and-glove with the Japanese, the heathen Chinee, and all the other outlandish people that we send missionaries to, and convert a dozen or so once in fifty years.
Well, Mr. Brooks seemed real glad to see us, and was polite as could be; so was his daughter and all the other ladies, when they found out who it was they had among them. He'd been in Vermont, of course, before going round what was left of the world, and his praise of the Old Mountain State was something worth hearing. He asked about Sprucehill, and said that he had pleasant reminiscences of that place, having kept a school in one just like it in his vacations in college. Particularly he recollected a sugar camp where he used to drink maple sap, and eat sugar till it had been a sweet remembrance to him all his life.
While we were talking in this satisfactory manner, the fellow in gloves sung out a name that got so tangled up in his mouth that it set my teeth on edge. Then came another, and another that I didn't listen to; for that minute I saw a pair of peaked shoes coming through the door, and above them Mr. Iwakura, with that glazed punch-bowl on his head, and his black and purple dress hanging limp around him. He bowed low and softly. Mr. Brooks bowed back; then this Japanee turned to bow again and again, till I began to tremble for his neck, but he went through it all like a man; and when the whole lot had been bowed to, Mr. Brooks introduced them to me and the other ladies.
Mr. Iwakura seemed to remember that he'd seen me a-doing honors at the White House, for he bowed clear down till I thought his glazed punch-bowl would fall off, and his black veil stuck right out straight; but he rose again as if his joints had been oiled, and said something that sounded soft as cream, and sweet as maple-sugar, but what it all meant goodness only knows.
Then another heathen Japanee stepped forward, and says he:
"The Embassador wishes to say he is delighted to see a lady author, who is an honor to her country."
Here I laid one hand on my heart, and bent my head a little, not exactly knowing what else to do; and I said, with what I hope was becoming modesty:
"Oh! your Highness—is it Highness—Excellency, or High Cockolorum?" I whispered to the lady who stood next me.
"Excellency," whispered she back again.
"Oh, your High Excellency," says I; for, being by nature a conservative, I took what seemed best out of each. "You are too complimentary."
With that I made him a curtsey that over-matched his bow, for there was more of it a good deal, on account of his smallness, and my height, in which we were both a little peculiar.
The Embassador looked as if he hadn't time to answer; for he was busy bowing to the other ladies, and the rest of theJapanese all came up, and there was such a slow bending time among 'em that it was ten minutes before there was anything else done. Then we got a little mixed, and seemed to be ladies altogether, only those who were going in to dinner seemed to carry their own punch-bowls on their heads; as for dresses and so on, we were pretty much alike, and the master of the house in his black coat, and so forth, seemed the only man among us.
By and by Mr. Iwakura came back to where I was standing, and the young man came with him to do up the talking.
"I have never before seen a lady that wrote books," says he, in the sweetest manner; which the other repeated in English that wasn't half so musical.
There was an inward struggle in my mind; the compliment was sweet, and I longed to keep it; but truth is truth. My foot is on the threshold; I have looked into the Temple of Fame, but am not yet what I hope to be; but the truth is, I haven't written any books,asbooks, yet. It wounded me to say so, but truth is a jewel that I have resolved shall shine, like a railroad man's diamond, in my bosom, forever.
"Your High Excellency," says I, with brave self-control, "my humble efforts have not yet been bound in covers, but they will soon increase to that extent. Have you no female authors in that Japanee country of yours?"
When the young man expounded these questions to Mr. Iwakura, the eyes of his High Excellency began to sparkle from one sharp corner to the other, and he smiled blandly—
"Oh yes! we have ladies who write in Japan; but not lines of wisdom, like yourself; they write poems."
"Love poems?" says I.
"Mostly," says he; and his little eyes lighted up from corner to corner—"love poems, home poems, and such things as ladies understand by heart."
"The Japanese language is so sweet," says I, "the ladies cannot be very strong-minded that write it."
"Strong-minded—what is that?" says he.
"Manly, strong; sometimes fierce," says I.
"His Highness does not quite comprehend," says the young man.
"Then I must illustrate," says I. "For instance, if an American woman were to dress as near like a man as—well, I beg pardon—as his High Excellency and his friends dress like women, we should call them high-minded."
"But do they? Shall we see any ladies like that?"
"You will no doubt see females like that," says I, with dignity.
T
THERE was no more conversing just then, for the tall fellow in gloves was so busy, opening and shutting the out-doors, and gentlemen came pouring in so thick and fast that we all had to attend to them. I was sorry for this, as the conversation was taking a turn that would have been of interest to us as a Society. I was just going to ask about the marriage relations among the Japanese, and intended to enter into a delicate investigation regarding the present company. But a smart, handsome, bright-looking gentleman came in, dressed up to the nines; and before I could say another word to Mr. Iwakura, this gentleman was bowing to me, and I was making my best curtsey to him. I was just delighted, for he looks a soldier, every inch of him, standing up straight as an arrow, but bowing so graceful and easy.
Then others came pouring in, and we ladies were busy as bees doing the honors.
There was no end of generals that bowed to me that night. There was General Farnsworth, from Illinois State, about the tallest and most manly gentleman among them. The long, sweeping beard that fell over his bosom was something splendid.If that man wasn't born in New England, he ought to have been—that's all.
But I haven't room nor time, in a short report, to give particulars about a hundred or so gentlemen. They were all men that you've heard of over and over again, for in his invitations Mr. Brooks had just skimmed the cream off from Congress, and it was something beautiful to see it pour itself through the parlors into the great dining-room, built on purpose for "that night only."
It didn't take long for the parlors to empty themselves into that room when a whisper went round that dinner was ready. In less than five minutes after, another fellow in white gloves came sliding into the room, and spoke low to Mr. Brooks,—we ladies were left alone, looking at one another, like babes in the woods.
A cat may look on a king, and ladies do sometimes look in upon stag parties. Well, I got a little restless, and began to wonder how the cat got a good look, and how I could get a peep at the feeding stags.
While the rest were talking, I slid off to one of the back windows, which opened upon the great banqueting hall—you have seen that term in novels—and, hid under a cataract of stars and stripes, I saw and heard all that was going on, and a splendiferous sight it was.
The great hall was hung every which way with flags. They rolled over the ceiling in waves, fell down the wall in festoons and curtains, striped, starred, mooned, crossed, tangled in gas lamps, looped up with flowers.
Rings of gaslights dropped half way down from the roof, and from them baskets of flowers swung over the great, long tables that were just one glitter of silver and glass, flowers and fruit, at which a hundred or more gentlemen were seated.
Great candlesticks, spreading out with branches of gold and snow-white candles, stood half way down each table, and rising up above them were tall pyramids of flowers, crowded in with pineapples, grapes, pears, oranges, and sugar things enoughto feed all the children in Washington for a month. Smaller flower-pots, crowded in with fruit, were scattered every once in a while along the tables.
Back of Mr. Brooks's chair was a banner with a lot of lions rampaging over it, and a harp worked in one corner of it. Over that was another banner, with a full moon and a baby moon blazing away on it, and all around them was a whole hail-storm of stars that seemed to catch fire from the gas, and burn of themselves.
The whole room was light as morning, and gorgeous as a sunset. Sisters, believe me, the way those men were enjoying themselves was enough to make a genuine woman grind her teeth. The popping of corks as they flew from the bottles was loud and swift as the guns fired on a Down East training day, and the gurgle of wine as it foamed into the glasses was mellow and constant as the flow of that brook through the hemlock back of our old school-house.
Then the talking, the laughing, the hail-good-fellow way in which everything was done, just aggravated me out of a year's growth.
By and by Mr. Brooks got up and made a speech, welcoming the Japanee guests and praising Japan beautifully. Then he asked General Farnsworth to do the same thing over again, which he did in the most splendid way.
Then Mr. Iwakura got up and poured out a soft, slow flood of words, that seemed sweet as new cider, with which the whole company was charmed almost to death, though there wasn't a soul that knew what it was all about, any more than I did.
Then Mr. Iwakura sat down and gathered his purple frock over his knees, satisfied that he had done his duty, whether the rest understood it or not.
Then they all drank wine till there was no let up to that sound of militia firing and of running brooks, except when somebody was melting soft-solder over somebody else, which they tell me, here in Washington, is the high privilege of a stag party.
My opinion is that they are ashamed to compliment each other so broadly when ladies are by, knowing that no crowd of females could be brought to the pitch of glorifying each other after that fashion, or would stand it to hear so much flattery wasted on a lot of men when they were by.
W
WELL, SISTERS, that chunky woman on the top of the great iron wash-bowl, that some giant seems to have turned upside down on the roof of the Capitol, has more to do than any other female I'm acquainted with, if she can keep the flock of men they call Congress in any kind of order. No wonder she has the look of the kitchen about her, and seem to be carrying a bundle of soiled clothes on her head for a wash in the clouds! for, of all the sloppy places I ever heard of, this great marble building seems to be the beatomest. Congressmen seem to be always getting out dirty clothes here, beside whitewashing every now and then, raking each other over the coals, and doing all sorts of kitchen and garden work.
Cousin Dempster told me all this before I went up to see exactly what Congress was, and it certainly upset me, you may just believe. That great building, which might be cut up into half a dozen palaces for kings to live in, turned into a wash-house and national laundry! The very thought made me creep all over.
I always like to investigate matters from the foundation, so the first thing I did was to go into the basement story of the building, and see what the kitchen arrangements amounted to. Of course Cousin D. could be of no use to me, and Cousin E. E. declined the subterranean raid, as she nippingly called it,which ended in my going into the underground department alone.
Well, the first thing that struck me was the duskiness of the place; it was like travelling through a sunset that had no color in it. The whole building seemed to have put on a gray mantle and gone to sleep. I went upstairs and downstairs, travelled over miles of stone floors, and through forests of great stone posts that looked strong enough to have a world built atop of them. Once in a while I caught sight of a man scooting along in the dusk before me like a black ghost; and once I heard noises like the rush of a steamboat down below me, and began to suspect that the wash-house and lime-slacking department was lower down yet. I opened two or three doors, and looked into a good many dark and deserted rooms piled up with books and crowded full of all sorts of things. Once or twice I saw the head of a man popping up between piles of books, but no sign of washing, as yet.
Well, I wandered on and on, till at last I came to a great kitchen that looked lively enough. Lots of men were moving about, fires were burning, and there was a lovely scent of roast chickens and boiled garden-sass—I beg pardon, vegetables. I would have gone in and asked some questions about the wash-tubs, but not a female woman was to be seen—and I hope I know what is due to my sex too well for any attempt to draw the attention of men in the service of their country by the presence of attractions that—well, I was going to say that the charm of high female society might have seemed a little out of place so low down in that stone wilderness. So I took a new turn, and came out in a grand eating department, crowded full of tables, where ever so many gentlemen and ladies were eating, talking, laughing, and drinking bottled cider till their eyes sparkled.
I went into the room with that quiet dignity which some people have said was the greatest charm of your missionary, and spreading out my skirts a little, sat down by one of the tables. A very genteel young man came up to me that minute,as hospitable as could be, and asked with a bow what I would please to have.
"Oh, almost anything that isn't too much trouble," says I.
Says he, "There is everything on the cart."
He pronounced "cart" with a drawl that riled me, for, if there is anything I hate, it is the stuck-up way some people have of twistifying common words: but I didn't want to rebuke the fellow too much, and answered in the bland and Christian way you have so often praised, my dear sisters, that I did not wish to stay long enough for them to unload a cart, but if he had just as lief as not, would take some baked pork and beans—that is, if there was any handy.
The fellow shook his head.
"No pork and beans!" says I; "do you call this national house-keeping?"
That brought the fellow up to a sense of duty in no time. He snatched up a little thin book that lay on the table, read it a minute, and then went off. By and by he came back with a dish in his hand, on which were a few beans, all brown and crisped to death, with a skimpy slice of pork lying across the top.
I took the dish in my hands, and examined it up and down, right and left, with an air that must have cut that fellow to the soul, if he had one.
"You call that pork and beans?" says I, a-lifting my forefinger, and almost shaking it at him. "Why, young man, it looks more like a handful of gravel-stones."
The young man spread his hands a little, and looked so confused that I began to feel sorry for him.
"Never mind," says I; "no doubt you have had the awful misfortune of being born out of New England, and that is punishment enough. It is the fault of our Congressmen if the great New England mystery of baked beans has not been explained and elucidated in the national kitchen," says I, "most people do degenerate so when they once get out of the pure mountain air. But then our statesmen may consider this awoman's mission. Perhaps it is. There was a time when females understood such things, but we have got to hankering after offices and votes and rostrums, till such things have become nostrums—excuse the rhyme, if you don't happen to be a poetical young man," says I; "it isn't extraordinary that such things are neglected, and that the great New English dish introduced by the Pilgrim Fathers has degenerated into this."
Here I pointed sarcastically at the pebble-stones, and, with killing irony, asked him to send me something to eat.
He took up the dish, and seemed glad to go—no wonder, my words had cut him to the soul. By and by he came back, and handed me that thin book which hadn't half a dozen leaves in it, and, says he:
"Will madam make her choice?"
I opened the book, and tried to see what it was all about; but there was nothing to read. A lot of English words twisted out of all shape and meaning, with some figures cut up in short rows, were scattered over the pages as if they had been shook out of a pepper-box. The only thing I could make out that seemed to have a sensible meaning, was—beef. This I read out loud—glad to find one good wholesome word to light on.
"Roast beef," says the fellow, and away he went.
There was no use trying to get anything like reading out of that ghost of a book; so I sat still and looked on, wondering what brought so many ladies into the Capitol, as they are not considered Congressmen yet.
D
DEAR SISTERS: I had moved my chair back a little, for it seemed rather lonesome sitting there with nothing but a table-cloth spread before me, and a castor on it, when a gentleman came in and sat down on the other side of the table, just as if I hadn't been there.
He took up the skimpy book, and began to read, as if he understood every word of it—figures and all. By and by a young fellow came up to him. They whispered together a minute, and the gentleman kept pointing at the book.
Just then, the young man that I had been so sociable with, came up with some dishes in his hand, which he set down on the table, then spread his hands a little, as much as to say, politely: "Set to, ma'am, and help yourself;" which I did.
Sisters, the national kitchens want renovating. There is female missionary work here enough to keep half our Society busy for a year. That beef was never roasted by a fire. I'll take my oath of that. It never swung on an iron skewer, inside of a tin oven before a hickory-wood fire, since it was a born calf. There's no cheating me in such things. Why, this beef had a taste of chickens, and oysters, and baked pork about it, so strong that you couldn't at first tell which it was, or if its birthplace was a barn-yard, a hen-coop, or the salt sea ocean.
Yes, thereismission work in these subterranean kitchens. Still, if members of Congress know how to wash and whitewash so well, they might take the cooking in hand too. Perhaps they have, though.
When men try a hand at woman's work, or women take up the business of men, it's apt to mix things up till you don't know which is which. I rather think the members have been down here, while the women were lecturing on politics upstairs. It looks like it, in both places.
Well, I didn't want to find too much fault. Human nature could not stand the pork and beans, but I tried my best to put up with the beef, and make believe it was delicious.
Just as I took up my knife the other young fellow came to the table, and set some dishes down before the gentleman. Then he took a knife and hacked away at a long-necked bottle till he got the cork loose, and let the whole affair, foaming and sparkling, into a glass. The sight fairly made my eyes sparkle, for I was awful thirsty, and the rich gurgle made me more so.
"Sir," says I, a-holding out my glass to the young man, "if that's Vermont cider, and I seem to feel as if it is, I'll thank you for a glass."
The gentleman looked up quickly; turned to the young man with a funny sort of a smile, and nodded his head, just as if it was anything to him.
I'm not quite certain about it, but if that foaming stuff was cider, it must have been made from russet apples, for it brightened me up all over till every drop of blood in me seemed to sparkle.
"It would be near about impossible to drink that through a straw, it bubbles so," says I, feeling it my duty to be sociable, and make the gentleman feel quite at home at the national table. "I think the cider is about the only thing that don't degenerate when it leaves New England."
"The cider," says he, opening his eyes wide.
"Yes," says I, holding out my glass again, "that keeps its own vim, and a little more so. Take another glass yourself, sir!"
I thought as I was first at the table, and a lady, that he would expect a little extra attention, and gave it with my usual bland politeness.
He smiled, and his eyes began to sparkle under the gold glasses he wore.
"Certainly," says he, "you are very kind; from Vermont I think you said."
"Just so," says I. "Sprucehill. Let me help you to a little of this roast beef, if I may call it so."
"Thank you," says he, and that funny smile crinkled his lips again, "I am well served."
It struck me as rather singular, that he, being a gentleman, didn't offer me any of the dishes on his side of the table; but he didn't, and, as a gentle rebuke, I said to the young man who stood behind him:
"Please to pass some of those dishes this way!"
The fellow blushed and hesitated, and looked at the gentleman in gold spectacles, who blushed a little, too, but said to the young fellow:
"Certainly; why don't you pass them over to the lady?"
There was something in a dish that looked a little like mashed potatoes. I helped myself with a spoon, and tasted it.
"What is this?" says I. "Your potatoes taste awful cheesey."
"It is not potatoes, but calf's brains au gratin," says he.
"Calf's brains, a grating," says I; "calf's brains, and I eating them. Young man, I'll have you investigated for this! Calf's brains, indeed! do you think I'm a cannibal. Take the heathenish dish out of my sight."
The gentleman laughed, and says he:
"I will relieve you of it."
Then he drew it over his way and began to eat.
I declare, sisters, I couldn't bear to see that man finishing up the dish as if he liked it. He seemed to have brains enough of his own, without wanting to rob a spring calf of what little belongs to it. But he finished the dish and got up to go, making me a real polite bow as he went away from the table.
When he was gone I beckoned to the young man.
"Is that man from the Sandwich Islands, or where?" says I.
"That gentleman! Oh, he's a Senator from the West," says he. "The whitewashing committee hate him like poison. He gives them enough to do, I can tell you. Awful in that direction."
"You don't say so," says I. "Is that the man who has raised the price of lime and whiting to such an extent?"
"That's the very man."
"Dear me! and he eats brains—cheesey at that. I never saw anything like it."
"Oh, that is a very popular dish, ma'am."
"With Congressmen?"
"Yes, ma'am, with Congressmen."
"Especially?"
"Especially."
"I shouldn't wonder," says I.
When I hitched my chair back, and took up my satchel, the man put a bit of stiff paper in my hands, with some figures on it. I thanked him and went out, feeling a little lighter than I had done, on account of the cider. The young man followed me a step or two, and seemed as if he wanted to say something; but that was a familiarity I had no idea of encouraging; so I passed on, determined to find the other kitchen departments, and set up a private investigation of my own. But at the foot of a flight of stairs, all made of spotted marble, I met Cousin Dempster, who was looking for me.
"Oh, here you are at last! Where on earth have you been?"
"In the kitchen and dining-room, so far," says I.
"Kitchen—dining-room!" says he. "Oh! you have been into the restaurant—not alone, I hope."
"Oh, yes," says I; "there was plenty of company; but the cooking is enough to try a person."
"Why, did you order refreshments?"
"Refreshments were offered to me," says I, "and I accepted them, as a free-born American woman has a right to do at her country's table."
"What are you talking about?" says Cousin Dempster, almost angry. "What is that in your hand?"
"A bit of paper that the young man gave me as I came out," says I.
"But you should have given this up," says he, turning red.
"What for?" says I.
"Did you pay nothing?"
"Pay! of course not. Who ever thinks of paying anything to the Government?"
"You do not understand."
"What?"
"You have been into a restaurant," says he.
"That's more than I know of, never having been in one in my born days."
"And have come away with this!"
"Look a-here, Cousin Dempster," says I; "does this great nation keep a boarding-house, or a tavern, in its Capitol? That's what I want to know. Do you think I mean to insult the country I was born in?"
"It keeps a restaurant for the accommodation of members," says he, "and you've been in it. Just give me that check; the country don't feed its statesmen—at any rate, directly."
I gave him the square bit of paper, and, when he left me alone, just sat down on those marble steps and waited.
I don't wonder these investigating committees want to shirk their duties. I, being only a committee of one, and self-constituted, feel as if I'd had quite enough of exploring downstairs. But what on earth Cousin Dempster is making such a fuss about, I have no idea. One would think there was something dreadful on that square piece of paper by the way he acted; but he's like everybody else, I suppose, when he gets to Washington, and can't make himself more than half understood on any subject.