I spent the evening in company with the American Consul in Canada, a pleasant young man, Mr. Andrews, and with Miss Lynch. This agreeable young poetess is now in Washington, endeavouring to obtain from Congress a pension for her mother, the widow of a naval officer. The following day I visited with her and Dr. Hebbe, a Swede who has resided several years in America, the Senate House, and the House of Representatives. The day was beautiful; the United States banner with its thirty-three stars, a star for each state, waved from the top of the Capitol, as is customary while Congress is sitting. It looked quite festal. The Senators sat in a large rotunda, well lighted by lofty windows, occupying one-half of the room, and produced altogether a good and honest effect. The greater number of these gentlemen were of noble form, with a somewhat peculiar physiognomy and bearing, which on the whole was calm and dignified—but which nevertheless does not prevent occurrence of scenes which are considerably disturbing and unworthy of Senatorial dignity. During the present session even, on one occasion, a strange and rather comic scene occurred between the senator from Missouri, Mr. Benton, and the senator from Mississippi, Mr. Foote, in which the former, a strong-built man, with an expression and beak-like countenance resembling a bird of prey, presented himself before the latter with a look and gesture that made the other, a little man of nervous excitability, draw forth a pistol, which he placed against Benton's breast. With this, the senator of Alabama said, quite coolly, “Give me that instrument,” and forthwith disarmed Foote, when behold the pistol was—unloaded! The hawk and the dove were now both of them in their places in the Senate, and the quarrel between them seemed to be at an end; but I should not depend upon the hawk.
The two great statesmen, Clay and Webster, were both
