of course, be to the Capitol, the Federal palace of the United States, which contains the halls of Congress. The building is not entirely completed, but its proportions are noble in size and it is lavishly decorated with columns of white marble. Situated on a hill at the northern [southeastern] end of the city, it commands an unobstructed view of Washington and its environs. It is a strange-looking city. Imagine a broad street lined on both sides with hotels and shops, then wide stretches of open country and again streets interrupted by vacant lots; groups of houses scattered about in apparent disorder, with here and there a marble palace which contains one of the Government Departments. This strange jumble leaves the spectator in doubt whether all this grandeur is in a state of development or is already approaching decay. Opposite the Capitol, at the other end of the broad main street, which is about a mile and a half long, rises the White House, the residence of the President, beyond which the Potomac encircles the southern side of the city in a majestic sweep. Still beyond the river we see the hills of Virginia and on this side the hills of Maryland. That is the exterior, quite pleasing in its way. The life in the streets has a holiday character; there is very little business traffic, only enough to supply the wants of the government officials, the Members of Congress and visitors. This gives a city a marked physiognomy. The elegant toilets of the ladies add to the brilliance of the scene, and the gentlemen try to win their favor. Such is the out-of-door life.
An unusual sight adds to the gaiety of the spectacle: it is a delegation of Indians, come from the outer confines of civilization to discuss with the President a treaty about certain tracts of land. I saw them in all their wild splendor when I was going to the White House to-day. They wear moccasins and a kind of doe-skin leggins, decorated
