the city, and where, in the park, every Saturday afternoon, there is military music, and the people walk about at pleasure. The President was out among the crowd. I was introduced to him, and we shook hands. He is kind and agreeable, both in appearance and manner, and was simply, almost negligently, dressed. He is not considered to possess any great talent as a statesman, but is universally esteemed for the spotless purity of his character and for his ability and humanity as a general. It was the Mexican war which made him President. His demeanour struck me as civil rather than military; Vice-President Fillmore, with whom also I became acquainted this evening, looks more of a president than Taylor.
The presidential residence is a handsome palace-like house, yet of too simple a style to be called a palace, near the Potomac River. The situation and views are beautiful. The band played the “The Star-spangled Banner,” and other national airs. From three to four hundred persons, ladies, gentlemen, and children, strolled about on the grass and amid the trees; the evening was beautiful, the scene gay and delightful, and one of a true republican character: I enjoyed it, wandering arm in arm, now with one, now with another member of Congress, and shaking hands right and left. When people knew that I was fond of little children, many mothers and fathers brought their little ones to shake hands with me; this pleased me. The President was delighted with the children who leapt about so joyously and so free from care, or seated themselves on the green sward. He seems to be between fifty and sixty, and is said to be tired of, and distressed by the state of things and the contentions in the Union at this moment.
Later.—I have just returned from the Capitol where I have passed the forenoon, but where we walked about arm in arm with the Senators and tallied with them much more than we listened to the speeches in the Senate;
