CHAPTER XIII.

RIVAL CAPITALS.

HE road from Richmond to Washington -from the Confederate to the Federal

capital is one not only of historical

interest, but of great natural beauty. The autumn season, and especially the month of November, in which nature arrays herself in her richest and most marvellous garb, is, above all, the time for a stranger who would see the country in its greatest beauty, to visit America. Not only is the foliage on the trees beautiful, but the ground is covered with dead flowers which have withered on their stems, but yet retain loveliness equal to that of life, though of a distinctly different character. These dried flowers are of infinite variety, and if gathered before the snow settles upon them for the winter, they can be made into exquisite bouquets of white, downy blossoms, scarlet berries, and rich bronze leaves. The whole earth teems with

delightful surprises for the lover of botany and of nature; and nowhere were these features of beauty more strikingly exhibited than on our journey to the Potomac from Richmond. The country was undulated-rising in gentle slopes covered with waving grain, and intersected with rivers and small streams, from whose banks hung the golden boughs of the oak and the maple.

The cars on this line were the cleanest, the most elegant, and most comfortable of any I had seen in the United States. The seats were larger, and handsomely cushioned in crimson and green velvet; the wood-work in bird's-eye maple; the floors were carpeted, and the ceilings were lofty and gaily frescoed.

The country was all so smiling and lovely in its peacefulness, that it was difficult to realize it as the theatre of a recent bloody struggle. A glance at the map of the operations of the two opposing armies, in the country between Richmond and Washington, showed it seamed with lines denoting the marches and counter-marches of the struggling hosts, and covered with crossed swords, indicating the spots where they fell by thousands in battle. Just at the entrance to Fredericksburg was the Federal cemetery, almost the only attesting witness of the dreadful struggle which had filled it. It lay on the hill

side, in a series of terraces, and contained nothing more ornamental, in the way of monuments, than some thousands of white wooden slabs, tier upon tier; and even these seldom recording more than the number of the regiment to which the clay mouldering beneath it had once belonged.

The plains around Fredericksburg were trampled over, to and fro, by the contending armies. One day it was Lee who had crossed the Rappahannock; the next, it was Grant. One day the Southern army was there in position; the next, the Northerners held the ground. Fredericksburg was battered into ruins one fine morning by some hundred and fifty Federal cannon, and then became the arena of death and desolation. For miles about the Rappahannock most of the heavy timber seems to have been cut down. That river, by the by, is the bluest I remember to have seen, except the Po in Italy; it was as bright as the celebrated "Azuline," so much advertised.

A few miles beyond Fredericksburg we came to Acquia Creek, and there took the steamer for Washington by the Potomac, the river which for so long checked the Union armies. It is a broad, majestic, rapid, and deep blue stream. The banks are somewhat hilly, although not so precipitous as to interfere with the camping of

an army on them; so here, on the brown wooded banks, lay the great army of the Potomac, where "all was quiet" for so long a time. Numerous white sails were gliding down the blue waters; and, as we advanced, the river extended considerably, appearing like a lake. The scenery became wild and more romantic, the setting sun lending a touch of glory to the picture, bathing ships and trees in a deep pink, hazy light. We next rounded a point of high bluffs, which brought us in view of Glymont, a picturesque summer resort, of great beauty. Within six miles of Washington we arrived in front of Mount Vernon, the former residence and the burial-place of "The Father of his Country." The steamer did honour to this abode of the great man by ringing, or rather tolling, a bell, in order to call the attention of the passengers to this venerated spot. The evening sun also paid it honour by flushing the sky with crimson light, while the water looked like a vast expanse of fiery, copper-coloured waves. The whole scene was superbly grand.

CHAPTER XIV.

WASHINGTON.

T was not my intention to say anything about Washington, for it has been so often described, that the leading

characteristics of its scenery must be as well known, through the medium of engravings and gazetteers, as were its social ones through that of special correspondents and newspapers, and I should have carried out my intention of being silent, and have left Washington to the mercy of its unsparingly severe critics, had not I felt, on visiting the capital, that those criticisms, and especially those on its public buildings, were in a great degree undeserved.

Singular, indeed, it seemed to me that none of the writers should have done justice to the Capitol. This may be because it is so difficult to describe it, unless in technical, architectural terms, or because the inferiority of some portions to others destroys the sense of uniformity.