The President of the United States is a man about fifty-five years old; short, exceedingly neat, and even _recherché_ in his appearance. The hair and beard are white, the eyes small and very keen. The face is severe, but lights up with a most gentle and kind smile. General Harrison is a popular president; but the souvenir of Mrs. Cleveland is still haunting the minds of the Washingtonians. They will never forget the most beautiful lady who ever did the honors of the White House, and most of them look forward to the possibility of her returning to Washington in March, 1893. * * * * * Washington society moves in circles and sets. The wife of the President and the wives and daughters of the Cabinet Ministers form the first set--Olympus, as it were. The second set is composed of the ladies belonging to the families of the Judges of the Supreme Court! The Senators come next. The Army circle comes fourth. The House of Representatives supplies the last set. Each circle, a Washington friend tells me, is controlled by rigid laws of etiquette. Senators' wives consider themselves much superior to the wives of Congressmen, and the Judges' wives consider themselves much above those of the Senators. But, as a rule, the great lion of Washington society is the British Minister, especially when he happens to be a real live English lord. All look up to him; and if a young titled English _attaché_ wishes to marry the richest heiress of the capital, all he has to do is to throw the handkerchief, the young and the richest natives do not stand the ghost of a chance. * * * * * Lectured last night, in the Congregational Church, to a large and most fashionable audience. Senator Hoar took the chair, and introduced me in a short, neat, gracefully worded little speech. In to-day's Washington _Star_, I find the following remark: The lecturer was handsomely introduced by Senator Hoar, who combines the dignity of an Englishman, the sturdiness of a Scotchman, the _savoir faire_ of a Frenchman, and the culture of a Bostonian. What a strange mixture! I am trying to find where the compliment comes in, surely not in "the _savoir faire_ of a Frenchman!" * * * * * Armed with a kind letter of introduction to Miss Kate Field, I called this morning at the office of this lady, who is characterized by a prominent journalist as "the very brainiest woman in the United States." Unfortunately she was out of town. I should have liked to make the personal acquaintance of this brilliant, witty woman, who speaks, I am told, as she writes, in clear, caustic, fearless style. My intention was to interview her a bit. A telegram was sent to her in New York from her secretary, and her answer was wired immediately: "Interview _him_." So, instead of interviewing Miss Kate Field, I was interviewed, for her paper, by a young and very pretty lady journalist.