of other light; when, now and then, the oversmooth, honey-sweet voices of colored men echo very softly from back streets to the resonant little drumming and twanging of a banjo. There is assuredly something in it all that suggests romance, something that delicately stirs the heart with a premonition, as it were, of some other heart waiting for it somewhere, in shadow, or moonlight, or noonday sunshine. It has been, and is still, the fashion to laugh at our capital city, and to speak with a very libelous contempt of what is done there. Many fashions are set by the Europeanized Ameri can, and they are not, on the whole, good ones. There are, indeed, two distinct classes of transatlantic Americans-those who live most of their lives abroad because they are obliged to do so by circumstances not to be controlled, and those who spend half the year on the other side as a matter of taste. The former are often more patriotic than those who stay at home. For them there is a glamour over everything; they feel little patriotic thrills at the sight of the Stars and Stripes, and the bald eagle's screaming is as melodious to them as the song of the nightingale. But the other is an unpleasant person who affects strange accents and quaint gestures, wears curiously elaborate garments of great price, and calls America a "beast of a hole," which is a coarse expression not susceptible of grammatical explanation. One chief object of this man's calumnies is Washington, under which general term he abuses the city, its inhabitants, and those whose thankless task it is to make laws for the general cases in which our federation must needs figure as one State. The American Parisian and the British New Yorker consider Washington a failure, its official society a band of ineffable cads, and the Government of the United States a fraud. Even in New York it is amazing to see what prejudice there is against Washington, and what indifference even where there is no prejudice. And yet, even as a mere spectacle, Washington is not by any means to be despised, while, as a study, it is one of the most interesting cities in the whole world. There is this fundamental difference between the general aspects of Washington and New York. The latter, cramped for space on its narrow island, has increased by building higher. The former, unhampered by limits of nature, has spread over an enormous area of naturally fertile land. There is, indeed, an even greater regularity of plan in Washington than in New York, to which the ruler and square were applied, so to say, after the city had grown out of infancy. But in the capital this regularity is not forced upon the eye by the unbroken succession of blocks succeeding blocks, for miles, in a wearisome similarity of architecture, and with such a monotonous absence of landmarks in some regions as to puzzle a Western pathfinder. On the contrary, the lines are everywhere broken by the variety of detachment where dwellings stand alone, and feathered all along their length with graceful trees. In New York, business is the main fact; idleness and its dwellings are incidents. In Washington it is the other way; for business is only incidental, government is more sky, since the streets are wider, and the houses lower. And winter in Washington brings the white surprise of snow rather than the discomfort of sullen and dirty slush, and a sudden thaw and a quick-succeeding frost will cast the trees in brilliant ice, as it were, making of each twig a miracle in crystal, and of every gnarl and knob and withered berry a crown diamond set in virgin silver. Especially after a sudden snowfall there is more joy than over many snow-storms in the North, coming as it does with the certainty that it cannot lie long on the ground, nor pile itself into hundredfold wet blankets on the roofs, the main occupation, leisure is the common nor heap itself in ten-foot drifts where it ought right of many, and idleness is the privilege of not a few. More than New York, too, Washington is subject in its aspect to the influence of the seasons, in proportion as there is more of nature to be seen everywhere, more grass to turn brown and green again, more trees to lose their leaves in winter and to bud in spring, VOL. XLVIII.-62. not. Snow in the North is a grim certainty; in Washington it is but the illuminating flash of a passing holiday, to be enjoyed quickly while it lasts, to disappear more quickly still in the sunshine that makes it beautiful. It is marvelous to see how the dashing sleighs turn out upon " the avenue," which is, of course, Pennsylvania Avenue,- to hear all at once the unceasing tinkle of the bells instead of the dull roll of carriage-wheels, to feel how in an instant the pace of the whole city quickens with noiseless speed upon the rare white carpet, to listen to new tones of voices echoing across the snow to have all the magic of winter's beauty, without its grimness, for one short, joyous day. It is natural that in its social aspect Washington should differ from most other cities. It is strangely cosmopolitan. There is in the ranks of society the greatest variety of race with the greatest variety of interest, or, at least, in the object of interest. There is, in things social, the greatest diversity together with a singular uniformity of principle. There is a notable simplicity existing side by side with something very like real magnificence of display, and a remarkable absence of that socially servile opinion which accepts display alone as an outward and visible sign of inward and social grace. The ubiquitous diplomat leavens Costary the whole, and lends it a slightly European savor. The curious English traveler comes, sees, and takes away an impression, but leaves none; the German of solid acquirements puts on an air of levity, the better to observe, to note, and mentally to digest; the Frenchman, generally new at wandering, sparkles in conversation, whether he be understood or not, and generalizes within himself as all Frenchmen do. For the French mind differentiates keenly, but integrates by one rule only, which is the Parisian. You may see almost every type at a big afternoon tea in Washington, especially at one of those given, according to a pretty custom, to "bring out "-to present to society-a daughter of the house. There she stands, the young girl whose social eyes are to be opened, a type of the American maiden of to-day, unlike any other in the world. For we are the only one among the great nations of whom it must be said that we are a distinct result rather |