On the way we were delighted with surrounding scenery, especially when we came to Chesapeake Bay, into which the Susquehanna pours its waters. Woods were clothed with autumnal tints, crimson maples flashed their fires amidst manifold hues of decaying foliage; and the sunny prospect, as we skirted the bay, was beautiful beyond description. At the Baltimore station brethren from Washington invested us each with a white ribbon badge; then on we swept past homesteads, recently the abodes of slaves, many a hut serving as an original illustration for “Uncle Tom’s Cabin.” We talked in the train with a black bishop, who entertained us with descriptions of negro excitability. He said coloured congregations would exclaim in church, as the preacher proceeded with his discourse, “That’s true, Massa”; and a man once shouted, under the influence of what he heard, “Massa, that’s like going up Jacob’s ladder.” A distant view of the Capitol is not unlike that of St. Peter’s at Rome, as seen from the Campagna. We saw a few city lions—the Capitol and Smithsonian Institute being chief; and we found this metropolis, not without form, for it is artistically laid out in thoroughfares radiating from the Capitol; but it is certainly “void,” for nominal streets were there, but at that time without houses. We drove a long distance, across an open country, suggesting the idea of a city which _is not_, but only _about to be_. How it looks now, I do not know. Yellow dust was blowing in clouds, and lying in thick drifts on the steps of the Hall of Assembly. General Grant carried in his face the signs of an indomitable will, and without any personal assumption behaved as one conscious of representative power. After my return home, Dr. Adams, who was then in England, told me that he acted as chaplain to the forces at the time of the great war, and rode by the General’s side, when he reviewed the troops. As illustrative of his memory for little things, I may refer to the General’s conversation with his old chaplain, when they met in England, and he alluded to the colour of the horse, the latter used to ride, informing him of the animal’s death, which had just occurred. The General seems to have possessed the royal gift of not forgetting those to whom he had been once introduced. Let me add, he was proud of having commanded such an immense army as he did, and said to the Duke of Wellington—who repeated this to Dr. Stanley, my informant—“Your father was general in chief of only forty thousand men; I led as many as _half a million_.”