“So I do, for I love new scenes, and Rhoda says there are many gay doings at the capital.” “It is not much of a place,” Birket remarked; “not near so fine as Baltimore.” “No, of course not. Baltimore is the third city in the Union. Nevertheless, seeing that I have been to Baltimore and have never been to Washington, I shall like to go to the least familiar place.” “Mr. Clinton is there?” Birket asked hesitatingly. Lettice gave her horse a gentle flick with her whip. “I don’t know,” she said shortly, as the horse changed his walk to a canter. A few weeks later saw the two girls, Lettice and Rhoda, together in Washington, Aunt Martha having readily found an escort for Lettice in the person of one Mr. Francis Key, whose affability and courtesy lessened the tedium of the long trip, for it was a day’s journey by coach from Baltimore to Washington. Dark though it was when Lettice arrived, she could perceive that Washington had little pretensions to being a fine place. After leaving the busy city of Baltimore, with its forty thousand inhabitants, its streets bright with lamps and full of the noise of rushing feet, of singing sailors, and rumbling carts, Washington, where scarce more than five thousand persons dwelt, seemed little more than a village, full of mud-holes, and showing a small number of houses at scattered distances. Lettice, however, was not to stay in Washington, for after the coach had rattled over the newly laid pike, and she had dimly discerned the white walls of the unfinished Capitol, she was helped down from her seat and entered a hackney coach, which was driven up and down hill, over Rock Creek, through mud and mire, until it arrived in Georgetown, a more habitable place than that which they had just left. Comfortable, spacious houses stood to the right and left of them--houses which to-day, dingy and dilapidated, give small evidence of having witnessed the brilliant scenes once of frequent occurrence within their walls. Lettice was welcomed with more heartiness than she had expected from the reserved Rhoda, and she parted with her kind escort, after many thanks for his thoughtful attentions. “You must be sadly weary, Lettice,” said Rhoda, as she led her friend upstairs to a room overlooking the blue Potomac. “I well remember how fatigued I was when I arrived; but I hope you will soon get over your journey’s effects, for there are to be fine doings here next week, and you must be in your best trim. Did you bring your prettiest gowns?” “I did, indeed, and a new one is to be sent as soon as the mantua-maker has it finished. Are you having a good time here, Rhoda?” “Fairly pleasant, though the wretched war stirs up all sorts of ill feeling, and one never knows what will happen, or what unpleasant things one may hear; yet I have much less to stand than the President’s wife, and should not complain.” “The President’s wife, Mrs. Dolly Madison? Is any one so churlish as to show ill-will toward her?”