es," says he, "a-sitting by Mr. Grant."

I looked in, but could only see a face, not over young, turned towards a
lady who was listening to him, as if every word he dropped was a ripe
cherry. She had a good, honest face, and I liked her.

"That is Mrs. Sickles, sitting by the President," says the man.

"What, that girl! you don't say so. Why, he might be her father."

It was the truth--a young, black-eyed thing, rather pretty and childish,
sat there by General Grant--I knew it was Grant by his features--talking
to him as if he had been her brother. Her dress was high up in the neck,
but most of the ladies there wore them so low that I felt like turning
my eyes away; but Cousin D. says that low-necked dresses always rage as
a chronic epidemic in Washington, so I mustn't be surprised.

"That is General Sheridan," says the man.

"That little cast-iron image, General Sheridan!" says I, a-starting
back. "The fellow that cured a whole tribe of Indian women of small-pox
with bayonets and bullets! I don't want to see anything more! Just let
us go away, cousin; I haven't been vaccinated, and he might break out
again."

"Hush! hush! he isn't dangerous," says Cousin D.

"Dangerous!" says I, "just ask the Governor of Illinois. Wasn't it
General Sheridan who dragged off the Grand Duke among the Indians and
buffaloes? I tell you again I won't stay another minute in the house
with that man!"

Sisters, I kept my word. We departed at once.

XXXV.

GETTING INFORMATION.

My dear sisters:--I made what people here call a flying visit to
Washington, which means, I suppose, that the railroad cars go about as
swift as a bird flies, which they do, if one is allowed to choose the
bird--a white bantam, for instance, with clipped wings. Well, I really
don't know much about the speed, only I was awful tired when we got out
of the cars at Jersey City, and we had the lonesomest drive home just
before daylight that two tired mortals ever undertook. The whole city
was still as a graveyard, and put one in mind of those cities over the
sea, dug out of the ashes in which they have been buried hundreds on
hundreds of years.

To me, sisters, nothing is more dreary than a great city shut up and
full of sleeping people. Only think of it! half a million of human
beings all lying in darkness, unconscious of both happiness or misery,
just as if sleeping in their tombs, only that the first glow of sunshine
brings them to life again. Did yo