Is “society” improving at the capital? Alas, no! There are no social centres where gifted men and accomplished women meet to exchange original ideas. A few literary societies flourish, where a few friends gather to listen to some worn-out “theme” and bitterly complain of being “bored” afterwards. The brilliant men like Webster, Clay and Calhoun, Ben Wade and Thad Stevens have no genuine successors. Why? Because politics takes the place of statesmanship, and our public men have to work so hard to keep their heads above the muddy pool there is no time to gather and disseminate the rich fruit of thought, consequently there is a short crop and the inevitable famine. OLIVIA. VICE-PRESIDENT ARTHUR. HOW HE WIELDS THE GAVEL OF THE PRESIDING OFFICER OF THE SENATE. WASHINGTON, _April 1, 1880_. It is a day of indescribable excitement in the Senate, vividly recalling the stormy times of secession, Andy Johnson’s impeachment, or the famous Electoral Commission. Standing-room on the floor or in the galleries can nowhere be found. Even the vast lobbies are crowded with a struggling mass of humanity, such as rarely gathers in the national temple which glorifies Capitol Hill. A face new and strange to the Washington public surveys the throng from the Vice-President’s chair and taps with uncertain hand the official gavel. The private secretary of the late Vice-President stands at his left to prompt him as to the names of the Senators he is to recognize, for as yet he has not had time to become familiar with their features or names. At his right may be seen one of the trusty clerks of the Senate to make sure that no official commission or omission shall follow. It is apparent to all that only experience is necessary to make Vice-President Arthur a model presiding officer. Except a little perplexity, there is the ease and grace of a man instead of the noiseless machinery which constitutes a well-preserved fossil. What the yellow, juicy, rosy-checked peach, with the fur rubbed off, jolting to market, is to the vegetable world, Vice-President Arthur sustains the same relation to the fruit of humanity. There is something about his presence suggestive of strawberries and cream, and yet this fact seems to be completely ignored by the Senate, for the turbulence goes on just the same. He sits in an attitude of grace worthy the painter’s brush or the pen of the poet. Fully six feet in height, broad-shouldered, but rounded and smoothed into curved lines which not only rival but excel those of Cupid. A cold, haughty face is often seen, but warm, proud features are rarely found; but here we have the exception. A high forehead towers above the brown velvety eyes; a nose a little too short for classic perfection; but a firm, manly mouth, with plenty of decision stamped on it, with a width of jaw that means business in any work it undertakes. Never since the days of Breckinridge has so handsome a man wielded the Vice-President’s gavel, and whilst this