ve hundred dollars, "for the purpose of extending the external commerce of the United States."
Congress granted the request, and busy days of preparation followed.
The cabinet were in the secret, and the ladies, particularly Mrs. Madison and Mrs. Gallatin, were most interested and sympathetic, providing everything that could possibly be needed in such a perilous journey, fearing that Lewis might never return from that distant land of savages. The President's daughters, Mrs. Randolph and Mrs. Eppes, were there, handsome, accomplished, delicate women, who rode about in silk pelisses purchasing at the shops the necessaries for "housewives," pins, needles, darning yarn, and the thousand and one little items that women always give to soldier boys.
Dolly Madison, in mulberry-coloured satin, a tulle kerchief on her neck and dainty cap on her head, stitched, stitched; and in the streets, almost impassable for mud, she and Martha, the President's daughter, were often mistaken for each other as they went to and fro guided by Dolly's cousin, Edward Coles, a youth destined to win renown himself one day, as the "anti-slavery governor" of Illinois.
In his green knee pants and red waistcoat, long stockings and slippers, the genial President looked in on the busy ladies at the White House, but his anxiety was on matters of far more moment than the stitchery of the cabinet ladies.
Alexander Mackenzie's journal of his wonderful transcontinental journey in 1793 was just out, the book of the day. It thrilled Lewis,—he devoured it.
Before starting on his tour Alexander Mackenzie went to London and studied mathematics and astronomy. "It is my own dream," exclaimed Lewis, as the President came upon him with the volumes in hand. "But the scientific features, to take observations, to be sure of my botany, to map longitude—"
"That must come by study," said Jefferson. "I would have you go to Philadelphia to prosecute your studies in the sciences. I think you had better go at once to Dr. Barton,—I will write to hi
