quarters in Washington. He has a hotel on one side of the street
and private lodging-houses on the other, in which I found myself
located. From what I heard of the hotels, I conceived myself to be
greatly in luck. Willard's is the chief of these; and the
everlasting crowd and throng of men with which the halls and
passages of the house were always full certainly did not seem to
promise either privacy or comfort. But then there are places in
which privacy and comfort are not expected--are hardly even desired--
and Washington is one of them.

The Post-office and the Patent-office, lie a little away from
Pennsylvania Avenue in I Street, and are opposite to each other.
The Post-office is certainly a very graceful building. It is
square, and hardly can be said to have any settled front or any
grand entrance. It is not approached by steps, but stands flush on
the ground, alike on each of the four sides. It is ornamented with
Corinthian pilasters, but is not over-ornamented. It is certainly a
structure creditable to any city. The streets around it are all
unfinished; and it is approached through seas of mud and sloughs of
despond, which have been contrived, as I imagine, to lessen, if
possible, the crowd of callers, and lighten in this way the
overtasked officials within. That side by which the public in
general were supposed to approach was, during my sojourn, always
guarded by vast mountains of flour barrels. Looking up at the
windows of the building, I perceived also that barrels were piled
within, and then I knew that the Post-office had become a provision
depot for the army. The official arrangements here for the public
were so bad as to be absolutely barbarous. I feel some remorse in
saying this, for I was myself treated with the utmost courtesy by
gentlemen holding high positions in the office, to which I was