“‘And shall make him of quick understanding in the fear of the Lord; and he shall not judge after the sight of his eyes, neither reprove after the hearing of his ears.’ Then he rises, and, with manuscript in his hands, begins to “battle with the breeze,” and to read his inaugural, which nobody hears. Behind him sits his wife and daughter, the ladies of the Cabinet, the Diplomatic Corps. What a compound of the ornamental and comfortable? Yet nobody is comfortable—not here. We can catch no word through the outbearing wind, yet know that for the second time Ulysses S. Grant has sworn to the oath of office, according to the constitution, and for four more years is made President of the United States. It seems but yesterday we saw a loftier head, a sadder face, bowed above that book, within one little month of its eternity; when, amid the booming of cannon and the huzzas of the people, Abraham Lincoln for the second time was pronounced the people’s President, and by the same lips which now utter the same words for another, a happier, a more fortunate man. Now the carnival of salute; the Middies fire their howitzers, thirty-seven guns; the Second Artillery fire twenty-one salvos; the Firemen ring the bells of their engines; ten thousand men warm their hands with hat swinging, and make their throats sore with shouting. Amid all, the multitude and the procession surge back towards the Executive Mansion. Between the latter and Lafayette square, the review, the return march, the military pageant culminates. The President, with lady friends, enters the pavilion built for the purpose, and the troops march by, encircling two solid squares; the West Point Cadets appear below Corcoran’s building, marching downward, as the magnificent New York Regiment—a thousand men—just arrived after an all night’s freezing delay, have reached Fifteenth street, marching up. The entire body of soldiery march and mass, till as far as the eyes can reach through the glittering sunshine, one only sees gleaming helmets, flashing bayonets, glancing sabers, the Cadets on double quick, the Middies firing their howitzers, officers displaying fine horses and uniforms, drum-majors tossing their batons, bands playing, and cannon thundering. Amid all these the four horses dashing before the Presidential barouche, bear the President to the Executive door, which now mercifully shuts them from our sight. CHAPTER XXVIII. A PEEP AT AN INAUGURATION BALL.