and scientifically up to top-speed—the Northerner is quite at home, and can give you a wrinkle or two worth keeping. But this habit of hauling at horses, who often go as much on the bit as on the traces, is destructive to "hands." If the late lamented Assheton Smith were compelled to witness the equitation here, he would suffer almost as much as Macaulay in the purgatory which Canon Sidney imagined for the historian. I have discussed that Martingale-question with several good judges and breeders of American blood-stock, but I never could get them quite to agree in the absurdity of tying down a colt's head for the rest of his natural life, without regard to his peculiar propensities—star-gazing, boring, or neutral. The custom, of course, never could prevail where men were in the habit of crossing a country; but an American horse is scarcely ever put at anything beyond the ruins of a rail fence, and there are few, north of the Potomac, that I should like to ride at four feet of stiff timber. It is very different in the South, where many men from infancy pass their out-door life in the saddle: from what I have heard, Carolina, Louisiana, and Georgia—to say nothing of the wild Texan rangers—could show riders who, when the first strangeness had worn off, would hold their own tolerable in England, over a fair hunting country, in any ordinary run.
On the outbreak of the war, volunteers enlisted in the Federal cavalry, who—far from being able to manage a horse—could not bridle one without assistance; and a conscript, who could keep his saddle through an entire day, without "taking a voluntary," was considered by his fellows as a credit to the regiment, and almost an accomplished dragoon. Such a thing as a military riding-school has, I believe, never been thought of, away from West Point; the drill is simply that of mounted infantry. Things are better now than they were; a Federal cavalryman can at least sit saddle-fast, to receive and return a sabre-cut; there have been some sharp skirmishes of late, and, allowing for exaggeration, Averill's encounter with Fitzhugh Lee brought out real work on both sides.
Looking at that squalid encampment, it was easy to realize all one had heard of the mortality among the horses in the Army of the Potomac, where no natural causes could justify it. Unless some sympathy exists between the two—unless the trooper takes some pride or interest in the animal he rides beyond that of being conveyed safely from point to point—it is vain to expect that the comforts of the latter will be greatly cared for. General orders are powerless here, and the personal supervision of the officers—even if "stables" were as carefully attended as in our own service—would only touch the surface of the evil. That utter absence of esprit du corps and soldierly self-respect, has cost the Federal treasury many millions; nor will the drain ever cease till "re-mounts" shall be no more needed.
The foregoing remarks apply exclusively to the tenue of the privates and non-commissioned officers; those of superior rank that I met were tolerably correct, both in dress and equipment; several, indeed, were mounted on really powerful chargers, and rode them not amiss, though with a seat as unprofessional as can be conceived.
The military loungers certainly monopolize all the leisure of Washington—by day at least; for, if all tales are true, the legislators, in the evening and small hours, are wont to unbend somewhat freely from their labors; and the Senate acts wisely, in not risking through a night session the little dignity it has left to lose. But, with few exceptions, every civic face meets you with the same anxious, worried look of unsatisfied craving; there is hunger in all the restless, eager eyes, and the thin, impatient lips work nervously, as if scarcely able to repress the cry which the children of the horse-leech have uttered since the beginning of time. It is easy to understand this, when you remember that, at such a season, there gathers here, besides the legion of politicians and partisans, and the mighty army of contractors, a vaster host of persons interested in the private bills submitted to Congress, and of candidates for the numerous places of preferment which are being vacated and created daily. Before the smallest of these has lain open for an hour, there will be scores of shrill claimants wrangling over it, summoned from the four winds of heaven by the unerring instinct of the Rapacidæ.
Every one of any official or political standing can either influence or dispose of a certain amount of patronage; to such, life must sometimes be made a heavy burden. Human nature shrinks from the contemplation of what each successive President must be doomed to undergo. His nerves ought to be of iron, and his conscience of brass, or a Gold Coast Governorship might prove a less dangerous dignity. The character best fitted for the post would be such an one as Gallio, the tranquil cynic of Antioch.
Marking, and hearing these things, I thoroughly appreciated an anecdote told me on board the Asia. At Mobile, in 1849, the Philadelphian met President Polk, then on his way home from Washington, his term having just expired. He took up office—a cheery, sanguine man, quite as healthy as the generality of his compatriots at forty-five; he laid it down—a helpless invalid, shattered in body and mind, past hope of revival. My informant, who knew him well, was much shocked at the change, but tried to console the ex-President, by speaking of the important measures that made his administration one of the most eventful since that of Washington; hinting that such grave responsibility and continual excitement might well account for exhaustion and reaction. The sick man shook his head drearily, and put the implied compliment aside: he was past such vanities then.
"You're wrong," he said. "It isn't Oregon, or Mexico, or Texas, but the office-hunters that have brought me—where I am."
In that answer there was the simple solemnity, that attaches to the lightest words of the dying. Sixty days later the speaker was "sleeping down in Tennessee," never more to be vexed by the clamor of the cormorants, or waked by the clients keeping watch at his door. Nor was he a solitary victim. General Taylor did not live to see half his duty done, and the atmosphere of the White House, in one month, proved fatal to Harrison.
To a disinterested spectator—especially if he chance to be of indolent temperament—there is something very irritating in the ceaseless crowd, and hurry, and din. From early morning till long past midnight, you might search in vain, through any one of the principal hotels, for a quiet nook to write or read in, unless it were found in your own chamber, where the appliances of comfort are more than limited. All private sitting-rooms are instantly engaged at fabulous prices, and, in the public parlors the feminine element reigns with no divided sway. It is difficult to appreciate even newspaper "leader," with a prattle and titter around, wherein mingle tunes, not quite so low and sweet as the voice of Cordelia. Those energetic civilians never seem at rest or at ease; they snatch their frequent drinks, upstanding and covered, as if they were just a minute behindhand for some appointment, and bolt their food, as if dinner were a necessary medicinal evil.
Soothe to say, the edibles do not deserve much better treatment: the whole commissariat arrangements in the hotels is supremely uncomfortable. The guests feed separately, but no dinner can be served in the public rooms after five, P. M.. You can choose to any extent, from a sufficiently ample, though very simple, carte; but your repast arrives en masse, no matter into how many courses it ought naturally to be divided, and is set down before you in uncovered dishes. Of course, when you arrive at the last, it retains scarcely a memory of the fire. I saw some of the indigènes obviate the inconvenience, by taking fish, flesh, and fowl on their plate at one and the same time, consuming the impromptu "olla" with a rapid impartial voracity; but so bold an innovation on old-world customs would hardly suit a stranger. All liquors are rather high in price and lower in quality than one would expect, considering the place and season; but the sum charged for unstinted board and a tolerable bed (from two to two and a half dollars per diem), is reasonable enough, especially during the present depreciation of the currency.
Out-door scenes were not much more attractive. The three-months' reign of Jupiter Pluvius, which has made this spring evilly notorious, had just begun in earnest. In the main avenues, on either side of the rail-track of the cars, the mud was a trifle deeper than that of a cross-lane, in winter, in the Warwickshire clays. To traverse the by-streets comfortably, you require rather a clever animal over a country, and especially good in "dirt;" they are intersected by frequent brooks, much wider and deeper than that celebrated one which tested the prowess of "le bonhomme Briggs." There are rough stepping-stones at some of the crossings, and the passage of these, after nightfall, resembles greatly that of a "shaking" bog, where the traveler has to leap from tussock to moss-hag with agile audacity; the consequences of a false step being, in