gorgeous picture, exclaimed: "I have not seen a more charming panorama in all my travels."

After the British burnt the original Capitol, it was rebuilt and finished in 1827; but the unexampled growth of the country and of Congress soon demanded an extension, which was begun in 1851. It is this extension which supplied the wings and dome, designed and constructed by the late Thomas U. Walter, that has made the building so attractive. This grand Republican palace of government, stretching over seven hundred and fifty feet along the top of the hill, has cost about $16,000,000. The old central building is constructed of Virginia freestone, painted white, the massive wings are of white marble from Massachusetts, and the lofty dome is of iron. The dazzling white marble gleams in the sunlight, and fitly closes the view along the great avenues radiating from it as a common centre. The architecture is classic, with Corinthian details, and, to add dignity to the western front, which overlooks the city, a magnificent marble terrace, eight hundred and eighty-four feet long, has been constructed at its base on the crest of the hill, which is approached by two broad flights of steps.

The Capitol is surrounded by a park of about fifty acres, including the western declivity of the hill and part of the plateau on top. Upon this plateau, on the eastern front, the populace assemble every fourth year to witness the inauguration of the President when he is sworn into office by the Chief Justice, and delivers his inaugural address from a broad platform at the head of the elaborate staircase leading up to the entrance to the great central rotunda. In full view of the President, as he stands under the grand Corinthian portico, is a colossal statue of Washington, seated in his chair of state, and facing the new President, as if in solemn warning. The rotunda is the most striking feature of the Capitol interior; it is nearly one hundred feet in diameter, and rises one hundred and eighty feet to the ceiling of the dome, which is ornamented with fine frescoes by Brumidi. Large panelled paintings on the walls just above the floor, and alti rilievi over them, represent events in the early history of the country, while at a height of one hundred feet a band nine feet wide runs around the interior of the dome, upon which a series of frescoes tell the story of American history from the landing of Columbus. But, most appropriately, the elaborate decorations, while reproducing so much in Indian legend and Revolutionary story, are not used in any way to recall the Civil War. Away up in the top of the dome there is a Whispering Gallery, to which a stairway laboriously leads.

The old halls of the Senate and House in the original wings of the Capitol are now devoted, the former to the Supreme Court and the latter to a gallery of statuary, to which each State contributes two subjects, mostly Revolutionary or Colonial heroes. Beyond, on either hand, are the extensive new wings—the Senate Chamber to the north and the Representatives' Hall to the south. Each is surrounded by corridors, beyond which are committee rooms, and there are spacious galleries for the public. Each member has his chair and desk, the seats being arranged in semicircles around the rostrum. In practice, while the House is in session, the members are usually reading or writing, excepting the few who may watch what is going on, because they are specially interested in the matter under consideration; and the member who may have the floor and is speaking is actually heard by very few, his speech being generally made for the galleries and the official stenographers and newspaper reporters. Debate rarely reaches a point of interest absorbing the actual attention of the whole House, most of the speech-making seeming to be delivered for effect in the member's home district, this method being usually described as "talking for Buncombe." The other members read their newspapers, write their letters, clap their hands sharply to summon the nimble pages who run about the hall upon their errands, gossip in groups, and otherwise pass their time, move in and out the cloak- and committee-rooms, and in various ways manage not to listen to much that goes on. Nevertheless, business progresses under an iron-clad code of procedure, the Speaker being a despot who largely controls legislation. The surroundings of the Senate Chamber are grander than those of the House, there being a gorgeous "Marble Hall," in which Senators give audience to their visitors, and magnificently ornamented apartments for the President and Vice-President. The President's Room is only occupied during a few hours in the closing scenes of a session, this small but splendid apartment, which has had $50,000 expended upon its decoration, being a show place for the remainder of the year.

THE WHITE HOUSE.

The most famous building in Washington, though one of the least pretentious, is the Executive Mansion, popularly known as the "White House," being constructed, like the older part of the Capitol, of freestone, and painted white. It stands within a park at some distance back from the street, a semicircular driveway leading up to the Ionic colonnade supporting the front central portico. It is a plain building, without pretensions in anything but its august occupancy, and the ornamental grounds stretch down to the Potomac River, which flows about two hundred yards below its southern front. It is two stories high, about one hundred and seventy feet long, and eighty-six feet deep. This building, like the Capitol, was burnt in the British invasion of 1814 and afterwards restored. Unlike the nation, or the enormous public buildings that surround and dwarf it, the White House has in no sense grown, but remains as it was designed in the lifetime of Washington. It is nevertheless a comfortable mansion, though rigid in simplicity. The parlor of the house, the "East Room," is the finest apartment, occupying the whole of that side, and is kept open for visitors during most of the day. The public wander through it in droves, walk upon the carpets and recline in the soft chairs, awaiting the President's coming to his almost daily reception and handshaking; for they greatly prize this joint occupancy, as it were, and close communion with their highest ruler. This is an impressive room, and in earlier times was the scene of various inauguration feasts, when Presidents kept open house for their political friends and admirers.

The "East Room" was a famous entertainment hall in President Jackson's time. On the evening of his inauguration day it was open to all comers, who were served with orange punch and lemonade. The crowds were large, and the punch was mixed in barrels, being brought in by the bucketful, the thirsty throngs rushing after the waiters, and in the turmoil upsetting the punch and ruining dresses and carpets. The punch receptacles were finally taken out into the gardens, and in this way the boisterous crowds were drawn off, and it became possible to serve cake and wine to the ladies. Various traditions are still told of this experience, and also of the monster cheese, as big as a hogshead, that was served to the multitude at Jackson's farewell reception. It was cut up with long saw-blades, and each guest was given about a pound of cheese, this feast being the talk of the time. Jackson's successor was Martin Van Buren, who came from New York, the land of big cheeses. Being bound to emulate his predecessor, an even larger cheese was sent him, and cut up in the "East Room." The crowds trampled the greasy crumbs into the carpets and hangings, and all the furniture and fittings were ruined. Now no guest comes unbidden to dine at the White House; but the change in the