The reason I happened to think of it was an invitation to go in a Government steamboat down to Mount Vernon, Washington's old homestead, and see the tomb where he was buried. Of course I wanted to go. When the President of these United States gets out a Government steamboat on purpose to carry a distinguished New England female down to the tomb of her country's forefathers, it's an honor she's bound to accept. I did accept it with enthusiasm, and at once invited Cousin Dempster and E. E. to go with me, for it always gives me pleasure to act as a sun to their moon. The Japanese were invited to join me on the boat, and as many as two hundred other people were allowed to go down, which I was rather glad of--they being amongst the best--and my nature being social, as you know. Well, between nine and ten in the morning, we drove up to the Navy Yard--a place where the Government builds the ships that are always being altered, and mended, and made worse than they were before. It's like a village on the water, is this Navy Yard, with a high wall around it, and a gate big enough for our carriage to go through, which it did, taking us down to the water in fine style. "Do you want to go on board the 'Tallapoosa'?" says a man on the wharf. "The 'Tallapoosa'!" says I to Dempster. "What outlandish thing is that?" "The steamboat," says he. "Well, why don't they call it a steamboat?" says I; "such airs!" With that, I jumped out of the carriage, taking a neat dancing step as I touched the ground, and spread my parasol. Just then another carriage drove up, choke full of little dark men. "It is the Japanese," says Dempster. "The Japanese! How can you say so?" says I. "Where are their punch-bowl hats and stiff veils?" "Oh," says Dempster, "they have given those things up, and dress just as we do now." "Dear me!" says I, a-looking into the carriage from under a slope of my parasol. "How funny they look with stovepipe hats, and boots, too--oh my!" The Japanese were getting out of their carriage, but they seemed as if afraid of straining too hard on their clothes, and stepped on the ground as if it was paved with eggs. Bang! "Oh, goodness gracious!" It was I that screamed out these words, and I hopped up at least half a yard from the ground, for somewhere, close by, a great gun went off--roaring over the water, like thunder. "What does that mean? Does anybody want to murder us?" says I, shaking like a poplar-leaf. "No, no," says he, "they are only saluting us." "Saluting _me_?" says I. "How dare they? Of course they knew I should jump and scream. So loud, too! No young girl would stand it." With that, I lifted my parasol, and walked across the plank on to the deck of that steamboat, and sat down. Them Japanese came after, and sat down close to me. Mr. Iwakura looked at me, and I looked at him. He smiled, and I smiled. This Japanee knows how to smile with his eyes, and that's more than a good many other men can do.