Page:The Story of Aunt Becky's Army-Life .djvu/49

Rh again, so that even those whose eyes have never rested on the huge white piles, covering acres and acres, have something of a correct idea of the glory of our nation's capitol.

In passing through them one sees many rich and noble things, so much dazzling whiteness and glare that the eye wearies with the grandeur, and would fain turn away to rest on some little patch of green, fresh with showers, stretching out before a tiny cot, suggesting quiet home peacefulness, but sees it not.

The great wide streets look like dreary commons over which the ranging cattle have made beaten tracks—there is a dreary monotony about the muddy stretch, so unlike our northern streets, that one is glad to escape from them anywhere out into the free country beyond.

It was once a great thing to visit the Capitol; now, where is the home in the North out of which some member, friend or relative has not passed, to stand under the shadow of the marble dome, and the tasselled curtains of the White House lost many a bit of silken fringe which lies to-day, with moulder clay from Petersburg and Fort Fisher, and shivers of granite from Sumter, and battle relics and prison tokens, in treasure-boxes all over the land.

The war developed one thing at least—a thorough knowledge to many, of the extent and grandeur of the public buildings at Washington.

I was glad to remember the Smithsonian Institute, as it stood with its noble works of art before the