Hayne in 1830; the long and acrimonious discussions led by Mr. Clay against the Administration of General Jackson; the dominant and dogmatic oratory of Benton; the courtly and unruffled presidency of Martin Van Buren when he was VicePresident; the cold and severe logic of John C. Calhoun; the brilliant off-hand replies of John Forsyth; the clear argumentation of Silas Wright; the dignity of Buchanan. He will think of the passing-away of all these leaders; the coming-forward of Douglas, Toombs and Slidell, Soulé, Bright, Breckinridge, Sumner, and Seward; their retirement; and the ascendency of the new school representing the existing parties, in their turn to give place to men, many of them young in life, and wholly unconscious of the destiny before them. The solemn quiet and precision of the Supreme Court sitting in judgment upon legislation, and deciding the gravest issues of individual and national concern, form something more than a contrast with the exciting controversy between the giants of politics, and point out the difference between the passionate polemics of legislation and the calm and inexorable fiat of law in the tribunal of the last resort.

The historian of 1854, Mr. Mills, describes the old hall of the House, and his ecstasies may well be understood as you pass into the National Statuary Hall, into which it was converted when the new south wing was opened to the popular branch of Congress. Nothing in the Capitol is more characteristic and instructive than the clock, in marble, over the north door, executed by Charles Franzoni in 1830. "History, her drapery floating in the air, is represented as standing in the winged car of Time and recording passing events. The car is placed on a globe, on which, in basso-rilievo, are cut the signs of the zodiac. The hours are marked on the face of the wheel of the car." Art has never achieved a more beautiful idea, and the student only regrets that the varied events which passed in sight of the figure could not have been recorded before the

great science of short-hand was invented for their preservation. The living actors have passed from this gorgeous enclosure, and are to be followed by the marble effigies of the immortals of other days. They are coming gradually into this new Pantheon. Rhode Island sends in her Nathaniel Greene, exquisitely done in marble, by H. K. Brown; and her founder, Roger Williams, also in marble, by Simmons. Connecticut sends Jonathan Trumbull and Roger Sherman, both in marble, by Ives. New York, her George Clinton, in bronze, by Brown; and her Edwin Livingston, in marble, by Palmer. New Jersey, Richard Stockton and Philip Kearney, the first in marble and the second in bronze, both by Brown-the latter not quite finished, but nearly ready for delivery. Then we have others, most of them meritorious, and all of them historical. I need not direct your attention to the two new Congressional chambers-the Senate in the north wing, the House in the south.

But here again you note the long strides of time in the changes of government and society. In 1854 the Senate consisted of sixty-four members, representing thirty-two States. In 1880 there are seventy-six, representing thirty-eight States. In 1854 there were two hundred and thirty-two members of the House. In 1880 there are two hundred and ninety-three members, and, including delegates, three hundred and one. The only member of the Senate in 1854 still in that body is Hannibal Hamlin, of Maine; and the outside survivors are Atchison, of Missouri; Benjamin, of Louisiana, now a London lawyer; Jesse D. Bright, of Indiana, afterwards a citizen of Kentucky; C. C. Clay, Jr., of Alabama; Augustus C. Dodge, of Iowa; Hamilton Fish, of New York; William M. Gwin, of California, resident in that State; R. M. T. Hunter, of Virginia, living in Richmond; Robert W. Johnson, of Arkansas, practising law in Washington; George W. Jones, of Iowa; Truman Smith, of Connecticut; Robert Toombs, of Georgia; Simon Cameron, of Pennsylvania; and John B. Weller, of California. Death

has been as active in proportion among the members of the House of that year, although, of course, more of these are alive. While Mr. Mills was writing his little book, Linn Boyd was Speaker of the House, Franklin Pierce President, and David R. Atchison president pro tem. of the Senate - William R. King, who was elected on the same ticket with Pierce, having died in April of 1853, one month after the new Administration began. The members of the Cabinet were William L. Marcy, Secretary of State; James Guthrie, Secretary of the Treasury; Caleb Cushing, Attorney-general; Jefferson Davis, Secretary of War; J. C. Dobbin, Secretary of the Navy; James Campbell, Postmaster-general; Robert McClellan, Secretary of the Interior.

Within a few steps of the Supreme Court, in its new quarters, was a little alcove, certainly not more than sixteen feet by six, known as "The Hole in the Wall ;" and as I stood near it several years ago, in company with my friend McElhone, the able Congressional reporter, we talked about the men and the scenes we had met in that little recess. It was the exclusive restaurant of the Senators and their friends; although, as I go down-stairs and look in at the highly decorated and extensive saloon of Howell, on the Senate side, and of Downing, on the House side, for the accommodation of our modern statesmen, it hardly deserved that name. But here they clustered, men of both sides, and from all States. There were no seats, no elaborate cookery, no French dishes, but oysters and cheese and crackers at hand, and endless liquids. Here more than once I have seen standing in close and earnest conversation grave Senators and judges and diplomatists so wedged in that the colored servants could hardly move in response to their demands. Not more than half a dozen could be served at a time, for there was no room. There was a trap-door in the floor, which lessened the dimensions of the place when raised to allow the waiter to descend for supplies to the cavern below.

Our modern ways-shall I say our modern moderation-have closed this little Hole in the Wall, and now the great men of the nation spread themselves in the decorated spaces on the first floor of the two wings, where they enjoy the costly cuisine of a luxurious age.

But what a contrast between the two libraries—the libraries of old and new! "A splendid room," says Mills, writing of the first, "92 feet long, 34 feet wide, and 36 feet high;" while, turning to the fresh and completer work of the younger author, Keim, we read, in addition to the dimensions just given, as follows: "The two wings on the north and south are each 95 feet long, 29 feet wide, and 38 feet high, finished in 1865." In 1802 there were 3000 volumes. In 1804 the library was destroyed. In 1851 it numbered 55,000 volumes, of which 35,000 were destroyed by fire in that year. In 1874 it numbered 260,000 volumes and 50,000 pamphlets. On the thirty-third page of Mills's "Guide to the Capitol" I find a series of rules and regulations addressed to the Commissioner of Public Buildings, signed by John C. Calhoun, Vice-President, and Andrew Stevenson, Speaker of the House, No. 4 of which reads as follows: "You will not permit children to frequent the Capitol and square unless in charge of some discreet person, nor people of color except on necessary business."

Now, if Mr. Calhoun and Mr. Stevenson were alive, they would not only find people of color sitting in both Houses, but representing some of the oldest States of the Union.

But I have already accomplished my purpose, although the subject is attractive enough, with these two interesting guides before me, to extend this anecdote into several pages more.

XLVI.

JOHN BARTRAM, THE ORIGINAL BOTANIST, ABOLITIONIST, FRIEND AND CONTEMPORARY OF WASHINGTON, JEFFERSON, JOHN ADAMS, LAFAYETTE, FRANKLIN, AND JUDGE PETERS.-HISTORY OF BARTRAM'S BOTANICAL GARDEN, NEAR PHILADELPHIA.

THE traveller leaving or coming into Philadelphia by the Philadelphia and Baltimore Railroad, before the line was changed by the new track to the north, was attracted, as the train paused at Gray's Ferry, by a white castellated building in the Norman style, handsomely modernized, and surrounded by extensive and highly cultivated grounds, crowning an adjacent southward elevation-now the suburban residence of Andrew M. Eastwick, and originally the property of the renowned John Bartram, whose farm it was forty-six years before the Revolution. James Parton, in his "Life of Thomas Jefferson," third President of the United States (published by Osgood & Co., Boston), refers to John Bartram as one who must have met Peter Jefferson, the father of the illustrious author of the Declaration of Independence. John Bartram was a Quaker, and, one day resting from his plough under a tree on the very farm referred to, pulled a daisy to pieces, and, observing some of the more obvious marvels of its construction, suddenly woke to a consciousness of his pitiful ignorance of the vegetable wonders in the midst of which he had lived and labored from childhood. This discovery was the inspiration which in afteryears made him the great botanist of the American continent. One of the European correspondents of Bartram, Peter Collinson—a botanist and an earnest friend of Pennsylvania and of Benjamin Franklin-gave him a letter to one Isham Randolph, the father of Jane Randolph and of the mother of Thomas Jefferson; and it was on his botanical tour of Virginia that he carried the letter to Jefferson's father-in-law. "The botanist,"