There were several guides in the Capitol employed to show the visitors around and explain the sights to them. I thought it would be splendid for me to give them special instructions about my work, so that they would not make the usual ludicrous mistakes. But guides seem to be a different breed of animal chosen for the wide range of their imaginations. I supposed everything was going all right, when one day a particularly loquacious one came to me and showed me a miniature palette in his buttonhole, telling me he was an artist himself and belonged to a club of artists. He knew all about the ladies in my decoration—the one veiled in chiffon (which I had made for Hope) he called Sin, entirely neglecting the nude woman in the foreground (Sin) clinging to a grizzly (Savagery). He had probably received his early education in and about a Burlesque show. It was in St. Paul that I saw the most wonderful collection of paintings ever gathered together (as far as I know) by a private individual. Mr. J. J. Hill had built a special room, especially lighted with everything adequate to show them to the best advantage. And such pictures! He had numbers of Corots—one of the nude Magdelen—Millet’s “Goose Girl,” and beautiful Daubignys. One Corot (of Biblis) was stunning. I could have lain on my back under the trees of the landscape and gone miles and miles through the distances between the clouds. There were capitals and capitols to decorate after St. Paul, but none of them such a large order. In the Law Courts of Mercer, Pennsylvania, I put figures representing the different characteristics of the law; at Des Moines, Iowa, I was given a long and narrow half-moon panel, twenty-five or thirty feet in length and only about five feet in width at the center, and they _would_ have for a subject, the Presentation of the Flag to the First Regiment that went to the Civil War. Of course, I couldn’t get in a human figure and a flag in the proper way, so I made an awkward girl holding it and letting it sag to the ground.