Chapter VIII: Part 8

Women are never included in these official dinners, but the same evening the wife of the minister or Speaker holds a reception, to which the families of the guest are invited, and the day closes with the feeling that all have been entertained. It will be remembered that Mrs. Thornton asked gentlemen only to meet the Prince at dinner, but in the evening the ladies were assembled to honor the royal guest. At a regal entertainment only gold, silver, and glass are to be seen on the tables. The King of little Hanover is said to have six million dollars’ worth of silver to set before his guests. The King of Prussia has for table ornaments mountains of silver from three to five feet high, with deer climbing them, and huntsmen following, all composed of that precious metal. It is next to an impossibility for a mere traveler to be introduced to the King of Prussia. He cannot be presented through the American minister, as it is practiced in France and England. If the traveler is a distinguished citizen of this country the case is different, and Prussian majesty allows itself to be approached. Men in official life are invited to dine at the royal table in Prussia, but a woman in high life must await the coming of a court ball, and then, if her rank is strong enough, she is shown into the royal dining-hall and has the supreme honor of hearing his majesty say: “How many wax candles do you think I am burning to-night?” The old King of Prussia was burning waxen tapers by the thousands, and he wanted his generosity appreciated. Century after century the etiquette of England and Prussia have followed in the same groove. Certain rank has certain privileges as well defined as the night and day. In France this stony rigidity is somewhat relaxed; but the length to which this letter has already attained prevents any further allusion to the subject.

OLIVIA.

SOME SENATORIAL SCENES.

JOHN SHERMAN, ZACH. S. CHANDLER AND OLIVER P. MORTON IN THE LIME LIGHT.

WASHINGTON, _March 12, 1870_.

In order to see the light of the sun eclipsed, or completely thrown in the shade, it is necessary to visit the Senate in night session. In prosy daytime one’s senses are ravished by the bewildering beauty of the decorative art in this “chamber;” but thus seen only a magic hall pictured in the “Arabian Nights’ Entertainment” will compare with the fairy-like beauty of the scene. Whence come the beams that steep everything in a sea of liquid amber? No jetty flame is visible anywhere. The exquisite roof of stained glass gleams with a deeper, richer light than was ever borrowed from old Sol’s rays. In order to be disenchanted one must be told that innumerable little gas jets cover the interior roof of the chamber, but the stained glass hides the ingenious contrivance from view. Who shall describe the sea of splendor that wraps and beautifies everything caught in its embrace? Under its influence grave Senators relax that stern gravity and austerity so becoming in a man upon whom half the dignity of a sovereign State depends. During last evening’s session, Senator Ramsey deliberately placed his hands behind him, apparently without malice aforethought, marched across the floor, and patted Senator Drake on the head. But the most astonishing thing connected with the performance consists in the fact that Senator Drake never quacked or even called the attention of the Senate to this strange proceeding. If in the course of legislation a Senator’s head must be patted, by what authority has a man the right to do so? Considering the irascibility of Senator Drake, his behavior under the hand of Senator Ramsey was becoming in the extreme.

If there is a chestnut burr in the American Senate, it is found in the person of Senator Drake, of Missouri. He bristles with sharp points, like a porcupine. He is ever on the alert for his foes, and when found he hurls shaft after shaft, unmindful where he hits; yet there is something so upright and true in the man that one forgets, as in the case of pricked fingers when a hoard of satin-backed chestnuts are brought into view.

But the shimmering rays of the evening light up a unique picture. In the outer circle of Senatorial chairs may be seen the one occupied by the colored man from Mississippi. As yet it cannot be said that a negro or black man has broken into Congress. Senator Revels has the head of a bronze statue, and his hands are Anglo-Saxon. But the cruel weight of slavery has left its mark upon him. He brings to bear upon the tufted Wilton of the Senate chamber the plantation’s walk. Slave idiom clings to his mellow, flute-like speech. He looks so lonely and forlorn in his seat, the first in the edge of the charmed circle, just as if he had been washed there by some great tidal wave, which had retired, never more to return. Senator Revels is a good man, but not great, after the manner of Frederick Douglass; or keen as a Damascus blade, like Sella Martin, the editor of the colored man’s national organ. And yet, in legislative attainments, he compares favorably with the majority of the new Senators from the reconstructed States.

The Senators are talking about the “funding bill.” In the colloquy the clear-cut face of John Sherman, of Ohio, comes to the surface. He has put his shoulder to the mountain of finance, and how manfully he tugs. Oh, the wear and tear to the understanding in the attempt to comprehend the money situation! A masculine biped whispers to his next door neighbor, “Do you understand why they had a night session?” Of course the little woman didn’t know. “It was to choke off all discussion and come to a vote. In the House they have a way of putting on the brakes, but in the Senate a man can talk and talk until he spins a cocoon out of his brain, through which he must eat in order to come back to common sense and terra firma. You see,” continued the man, “that the Senate is tired. It wants to get home; but a few of the hardy swimmers will not give up the race.”

Senatorial abandon takes possession of the hour. A Western Senator perambulates the floor, smoking a cigar, but there are very few ladies in the gallery, and the cigar is daintily fragrant, considering its obnoxious origin. In the door of an adjoining cloak-room may be seen the broad, open face of Zachariah Chandler, and from its moon-like disc may be noticed small volumes of smoke escaping; but whether this fiery exhibition is the result of the destruction of tobacco, or a mild volcanic eruption in a very delicate region, there is no means of ascertaining.

During the impatient conflict Charles Sumner is seen in his seat, solemnly solemn as the sphinx. A woman whispers: “Did you ever see Charles Sumner smile? I did once, you ought to have seen it.” “Why?” asked her companion. “Because he looked so handsome. The smile transfigured his countenance. I have liked his face ever since.” “May I never see him smile,” said the other woman. “I prefer to contemplate this man in the Senate as I do the mountain in a picture, or as I would an Arctic landscape in a gloomy, sullen sea.”

Apparently weary of wielding the Vice-President’s sceptre, Schuyler Colfax has slipped out of the honored chair to a lower seat, and a Senator occupies his place. If a public man wants to be buried alive he can accomplish it by getting himself elected heir-apparent to the Executive. The Vice-President of the United States never has a chance to read his name in the newspapers, and by the time his four years are up the dear public have forgotten him. Oh, the horror of riding on the topmost wave of popularity, and then suddenly finding oneself plumped out of sight, actually buried under a mountain of greatness. If the President would only die. But who ever knew a President to commit suicide, though he is perfectly aware that another man has been actually prepared to take his place, and that the people of this country will not suffer for the want of a President? The actual reason why the great body of American women are against woman suffrage is because they fear that some time in the course of their natural lives they will be called on to act as Vice-President. Schuyler Colfax was seen reading a newspaper at the foot of his throne, and if he gets any comfort out of his position it must consist in holding the gavel suspended over the heads of the shining lights of the country. And yet there is no chance of bringing these Senators to order, as in the case of the unruly members of the House. The Senators are always in order; there is no chance of enjoyment for Schuyler Colfax except to crawl out of his seat and read a newspaper. And what does he find in that newspaper? Oh, sorrow and consternation! Dawes is ravishing the East with economical delights, and Logan is cleansing the Augean stables of the House in which iniquity has herded ever since the Republic began. There are two positions which are alike, so far as the country is concerned, the Vice-Presidency of the United States and that of a country schoolmaster.

In the person of Senator Harlan, of Iowa, may be seen the presiding officer of the hour. How admirably he becomes the sombre, dignified place. Nature has cast this man in a noble mould. Broad forehead, clear gray eyes, and features as handsomely chiseled as if fresh from the hands of a first-class sculptor. Few men in the Senate have the simple tastes of Senator Harlan. His personal presence would be superb if it were not for the general appearance of threatened disruption which marks his every-day attire. But, notwithstanding the inclination of his coats to wear out under the arms and fringe in exactly the wrong place, no Senator at the capital is more beloved or trusted by the people of his own State now residents of Washington than Senator Harlan.

The funding bill still agitates the waters of legislation, and Senator Morton, of Indiana, arises slowly, leaning upon his cane. What subtle influence brings to the mind’s eye the picture of a tiger chained to a broken cage? Surely that powerful organization was made to last three-score years and ten. What a glorious casket! Away with the cane! The pallor of his countenance is a part of the uncanny mockery of the night. There is no better speaker on the floor of the Senate. His thoughts flow fresh, clear, sparkling, like water from a hill-side spring. It is true, Indiana is a benighted State, morally defective, as seen by her divorces; her territory swampy, with fever and ague a yearly crop. But which is the best harvest a State can yield? Why men, to be sure, and when this fact is considered Indiana need not feel ashamed of herself.

At this hour of the evening the floor is thickly strewn with all sizes of fragments of paper. It rustles under the feet of the nimble pages. Senator Wilson is opening his evening mail. He snaps the letter envelopes and hauls out the insides as gracefully as a bear scrapes honey out of a hollow tree. He is so earnest, and there is so much to do, and the sun will not stand still even for Massachusetts. He takes the time to read the name only of his correspondents; the reading through these letters must be done by a private secretary. What a huge pile of papers menace him! Public opinion says he is a man of “practical talent.” Is not this the best gift bestowed upon man? Blessed, thrice blessed, is the State that has a man in the Senate connected by an electric cord to the least of her people!

Senator Cameron is walking up the broad aisle, erect and stately as a majestic pine in midwinter. This man is not one of the brilliant figures of the Senate, but he is high like the mountains and deep like the mines of the great powerful State he represents. Few, if any men, carry greater weight in Senatorial legislation.

Senators Conkling and Stewart may be seen in their respective seats, and these two men may properly be called the “blondes” of the Senate. If these Senators were women they would have the whole masculine world at their feet. It would seem as if the forces of nature conspired to keep them at a red heat, these men are steeped in liquid sunshine; their beards, at a distance, are the best kind of imitation of spun gold. Once a watery veined Senator was actually seen warming his hands only a short distance from Senator Conkling’s head; but notwithstanding this fact a handsomer man is seldom seen on the floor of the Senate.

There is evidence of strong-coming impatience. Senators pace the floor as lions stride their dens. When will the interminable talk cease? No one heeds it. Senator Sprague is seen in a leaning attitude against the wall. The golden background helps to make a fitting picture of the young millionaire. His face has a marble pallor which the rosy light of the chamber cannot dispel.

Very few people are in the galleries. A few dusky faces may be seen at the right of the reporters’ seats. The diplomatic space is unoccupied. In the ladies’ gallery is the intellectual countenance of Mrs. Secretary Cox. She is followed by a suite of pretty, youthful faces. Mrs. Sprague is also present, superbly graceful as ever. This elegant woman is not only ornamental, but useful to the world. When she is traveling amongst foreign nations her manners reflect honor on the country that gave her birth.

But the gavel has sounded, and the night session ends.

OLIVIA.

THE ROBESON TEA PARTY.

THE SECRETARY OF THE NAVY AWARDED THE PALM FOR ENTERTAINING.

WASHINGTON, _March 22, 1870_.

Humiliating as the task may be, it must be acknowledged that in every race undertaken by the two sexes at the same time, for reasons which never can be explained, the men will manage to come out ahead in the exquisite art of millinery and dressmaking, where it would seem natural that woman’s nimble fingers and dainty tastes should rival the work of the fairies; yet stubborn facts bring us face to face with Monsieur Worth, the masculine milliner of Paris, who has stepped on to the throne, and by superiority of judgment has robbed woman of her rightful heritage. “Ah!” said an American of rare taste, just returned from abroad, “you should have seen the dress prepared by this man for the Queen of Prussia. It was made of the simplest material, being composed of grass and lace, but the lace was filmy tulle, almost as ethereal as the moonbeams, and the grass was soft and velvety, such as may be supposed to adorn the river banks in Paradise. Over this faultless combination was flung a shower of seed pearls.” From whence did this man Worth get the pattern? He went to Nature’s glorious book, just as all Earth’s children must when they seek inspiration. Dear reader, have you seen in the early morning a handkerchief of cobweb glisten with pearly dew spread out on the grass? Monsieur Worth has noticed this fairy work, and the hint enabled him to fashion a queen’s dress which was pronounced by competent judges to be the most faultless ever worn by royalty. Dresses imported from Paris by the score may be seen in Washington society; but these costumes have not received the last touches of grace from the hands of the great masculine dressmaker. Monsieur Worth has all the orders he can fill for such women as Eugenie, Clothilde, the Queens of Prussia, Belgium, and others, without puzzling his dainty brains for the simple daughter of a Republic, who may be somebody to-day but nobody to-morrow.

This letter is written, in all humility and sorrow, to prove that the great social success of the season has been awarded (must the truth be told?) to a man, and the citizen is known to the world as the Secretary of the United States Navy. Whilst the President of the Republic has tickled society with his levees, and the married men of the Cabinet have held their receptions, Secretary Robeson, the jolly bachelor tar, has given a tea-party, and such a one as would make the Widow Bedott clap her hands with joy. No other woman in Washington in fashionable society would have dared ape the custom of other days; but the gallant Secretary, after donning a mental armor as invulnerable as ironclad, has sailed into the face of public opinion and won a victory as complete as McClellan’s capture of the wooden guns.

It will be remembered that at the tea parties given in the old times by the Widow Bedott the dear old snuff-taking stocking knitters assembled of an afternoon and talked their honest gossip by the light of the patient sun. But owing to the hard day’s work which has to be performed by the Secretary of the Navy the company was not assembled until long after candle-light; but as candles are not as plentiful as they used to be in the good old days of our grandmothers,--a modern substitute was found to light the mansion, by the flame of which every wrinkle was visible on the faces of his guests.

Thirty persons attended the tea party, but the most astonishing feature consisted in the fact that nearly one-half of the company were men. It is true the Secretary is single and these men were possibly invited for protection sake; but what hindered him from stationing a squad of marines outside of his modest home, within easy call, in case superior strength was needed? There is not a house in Washington fitted up so snugly and cosily as the home of the bachelor Secretary. Everything about it is suggestive of every-day comfort. Instead of heavy silken drapery at the windows, chintz, modest chintz, pure enough to smile on the dreams of a bachelor, shuts out the sun’s too obtrusive rays. Chintz covers the luxurious sofas and twines around the broad-shouldered, deep-chested chairs. All these happy surroundings had much to do with the jolly comfort of the guests of the tea party. Two hours were spent dallying with music before the tea-room was disclosed. At the expiration of that time a pair of folding doors were opened as if by magic, and in the offing might have been seen a tea-table such as would have brought tears of envy to Mrs. Potiphar’s eyes. It has been proved that the moon is made of green cheese, and Secretary Robeson had a piece of it on his tea-table. Then there were muffins, crisp as a frosty morning, and a pot of tea for which a war vessel had been dispatched with sealed orders, and the captain, under threats of dismissal, was commanded to return within a given space of time, bringing from Japan the exact quantity of tea requisite for the occasion. It was also rumored, but the writer cannot vouch for the facts, that the vessel brought over a Japanese man to brew the tea, and, after the awful thing was done, the miserable Jap committed hari-kari.

Besides the pot of tea the table groaned under a huge weight of dainties too numerous to mention. Terrapins, quails, oysters, salmon, honey sweet as that of the bees of Hybla, chickens broiled in the same style as they are always cooked in Mrs. Southworth’s novels, confectionery, and cream such as exudes from the Sacred Cow. But this table was not to be approached except by those anointed for the purpose. In the room were sprinkled around tables of all sorts and sizes, from the dining cover, capable of supplying six to eight persons, to the modest light stand, which had been hastily abstracted from a chamber. The guests could seat themselves in any manner they chose, provided they kept away from the fountain of supply. At one of the little tables might have been seen a youthful pair in the highest attitude of human enjoyment; there was just room enough for themselves, and no more. It can safely be said that the bachelor Secretary did more in the match-making line that night than all the manoeuvring mammas at the capital in the whole season. Some of the tables accommodated four persons; others more or less. In the meantime waiters performed their duty with the regularity of American watches.

But if there is one person more than another at the capital that deserves a national reputation it is the cook belonging to the naval establishment of the United States. The sex of the person cannot be ascertained, but this is of no mortal consequence so long as men and women are henceforth to stand on the same platform. Women have served on the jury in Wyoming, which proves that the reputation of a person has nothing to do with the sex. Secretary Robeson’s cook eclipses the President’s Italian “Melah,” and Professor Blot is requested to keep away from Washington if he has any regard for his well earned laurels. Two festive hours were spent at Secretary Robeson’s tea-table. Conversation rolled as easily as a clean, smooth-bottomed war vessel with a flowing sail and a rolling sea. When the guests found themselves unable to hold any more tea they reluctantly wended their way back to the neglected parlors, where a band of music had been stationed to compose their sensibilities. It must not be omitted that the wine and punch freely mingled with the tea, but this must be looked upon as a modern improvement attached to a harmless old fashion. Dancing and the german completed the grand social success of the season, and history will baptize it “A naval tea-party.”

OLIVIA.

DELEGATES FROM THE SOUTHLAND.

PLEADING THEIR CAUSE BEFORE PRESIDENT AND LEGISLATORS.

WASHINGTON, _March 24, 1870_.

Before the late war a man’s life was unsafe south of Mason and Dixon’s line, if he professed to believe in the abolition of slavery. The same malignant spirit exists to-day. It is not safe to be a Republican in many parts of the sunny South. In the sparsely settled districts men are shot and whipped for the offence of forming what are termed “Grant clubs.” Murder succeeds murder, and the offenders never feel the hand of justice. Officers of the United States Government are assassinated in cold blood; but it is the helpless freedman that is made to feel most the sharp edge of the situation. Before the war, when this part of humanity had a money value, it was different. The overseer on the plantation which belonged to the husband of Fanny Kemble Butler said he generally managed “to work ’em up once in seven years.” What has the freedman gained by the boon of liberty if he is still to be hunted and killed like the wild beasts in the jungle? What hinders the Government from wiping out the Ku Klux Klan of the South? Late Confederate soldiers have laid aside the gray uniform, and now wear the mask of the inquisition, and their work is performed with the horrible secrecy of that medieval conclave. General Grant has sent the Quakers to look after the Indians. Why will not Congress enact a law to send General Phil Sheridan and Colonel Baker on a mission after the Ku Klux to protect millions who are as helpless as so many orphan children?

When President Lincoln issued the proclamation of emancipation 5,000 slaves were held in bondage by the Chickasaw and Choctaw Indians; or, in other words, three-fourths of a tribe of people held the other fourth as slaves. When the chattels of the Republic became free these bond people expected their freedom also; but this was denied them by their Indian masters because it was claimed that these masters owed no allegiance to the United States. A subsequent treaty was formed, freeing the parties, containing two conditions: First, that the freedman should have forty acres of land as their share and right in the Territory, or in case they should leave the Territory they were to receive $110 each, and the Government was to reserve this amount of the Indian fund and pay it to those who chose to emigrate. The freedmen desire to remain in the Territory, but the Indians will not allow them to occupy the land; will not permit them to have a right or privilege which an Indian is bound to respect. These patient men and women, native Americans, born to the same heritage as the President of the United States, are slaughtered in cold blood. Oh! there is no language strong enough to paint the hideousness of the Indian character. Was an Indian ever tame? These poor, forgotten outcasts of a distant Territory have sent a man to lay their sad case before Congress.

A band of loyal Georgians are in Washington, praying that the power of the Government may be exerted for their protection. They have seen the President, who did not hesitate to give them some kind, strong words; but it remains to be shown whether Congress will hearken to them. The delegation is composed mostly of colored men, with Governor Rufus B. Bullock at their head. A meeting was called at Lincoln Hall, by the citizens of the District, to show their sympathy for the cause which these Southern men represent. Mayor Bowen presided; John W. Forney made the welcoming address; while Senator Thayer and Representative Maynard spoke some good, strong, manly words, which must have brought the blush to Congress if Congress had been present to hear it. The great feature of the evening were the speeches made by the Southern men. Governor Bullock said little. Governor Scott of South Carolina, though unaccustomed to public speaking, made his short sentences into arrows, and fired them at the audience with the precision of a William Tell. Governor Scott has been a soldier. The exigencies of war stranded him on Southern soil. He has taken root there, where he has grown into a goodly tree, and not a single Ku Klux has yet dared to lay the axe at the root of it.

It will always remain a secret “who struck Billy Patterson” and why the noble governor of Georgia should be surnamed Bullock, for in personal appearance he bears not the slightest resemblance to that fiery, untamed animal. It is true, he has a handsome shock of hair on his head, but he is as destitute of horns as the administration is of knavery, and a better looking white man is seldom to be found.

Most noticeable on the platform was Simeon Beard, chairman of the Georgia delegation, a man whose superb oratory and strange personal appearance are most difficult to describe. Take away the prejudice of the race which, alas! descends to us in the same way as the color of our eyes or the length of our hair--a prejudice which education, prayer, or any other softening, refining influence of civilization never can remove--rend this veil asunder, and we should see a man that we could honor as President.

Simeon Beard has the lithe, erect form, and the smooth, raven locks of the Indian. Both African and white blood course in his veins; his complexion is that pale, rich brown--the same color with which nature loves to tinge the leaves in mid-autumn. But the spirit of some animal long kept at bay looks out of his deepset eyes, and his words burn as if they had been forged in a redhot furnace. He made the audience feel the print of the nails in far-away Georgia. Only a little longer will Frederick Douglass stand the acknowledged mouthpiece of the mixed races and the darker stratum which underlies it.

Simeon Beard was followed by a Texan, Mr. Ruby, another member of the proscribed family. How shall we describe this swarthy man, who appeared to be made up of sharp, glittering points, and who seems to bear the same relation to the human family that a dagger does to other weapons? He had the indescribable sway of the body of the children of the sunny climes. When his youthful face appeared it did not seem possible that he had the essential requisites to address such an audience, but surprise gave way to admiration and applause. He spoke in behalf of Georgia, asking nothing for Texas. “Why is it,” asked the speaker, “that the same atrocious state of affairs does not exist in middle and western Texas as in Georgia to-day?” Lowering his voice until it hissed, “I’ll tell you; when a Union man was killed a rebel was made to bite the dust. Only one man was shot in my neighborhood. He was a poor colored preacher who had started a school. Some men disguised went in broad daylight and shot him in the schoolroom. Mind ye, he was a poor man with no friends; but every man engaged in that day’s work was hunted down. We killed them as we would so many reptiles (raising his voice until it sounded like a musical instrument); that is the way we stamped out treason in our part of the world.”

A colored man of polished education followed this fierce and war-like Texan. His words were admirably chosen. The glowing appeals flowing from the lips of Messrs. Beard and Ruby seemed like the virgin ore torn from the rocks where it had been imbedded for ages. The smooth, handsome sentences of Professor Langston fell from his tongue like coin from the mint, each word having an appreciable value. Professor Langston is at present at the head of the law department in the Howard University. He was born in Maryland, of slave parentage, but was emancipated at a very early age, and received a thorough classical education through the indulgence of his paternal ancestor. After leaving college he studied law, and he now occupies one of the most honorable positions in the country. Like all of his race at the capital, he takes the deepest interest in the welfare of the freedmen farther South. The delegation earnestly asks that the Bingham-Farnsworth amendment, which is tacked on to the last law of reconstruction, may be crushed in the Senate, as its passage would hand the loyal element to the tender keeping of the late masters of Andersonville and Salisbury.

OLIVIA.

THE TREASURY TRIO.

WYMAN, TUTTLE AND SPINNER GUARD THE TREASURY DEPOSITS--JEWELS IN STORAGE.

WASHINGTON, _December 28, 1870_.

From time to time fabulous stories have been afloat in Washington concerning the secret of the United States Treasury vaults. It has been whispered by certain snowy-locked clerks who have been noted for years for strictest veracity that hidden away in the dust and darkness of a certain vault might be found jewels that would vie with or possibly eclipse those found in the diamond cave by Sinbad the Sailor. Hidden away in the wooden boxes, it has been said that pearls as large as pigeon’s eggs have nestled, their waxen beauty undisturbed by human eyes, whilst diamonds, both great and small, have winked and blinked without awakening a shaft of feminine envy. In this same vault it has been known that parcel after parcel has reposed, whilst hands that placed them there have crumbled into dust, and the mystery connected with them has been lost to this generation forever.

In this connection it must be mentioned that this particular vault is the ninth in the Treasury calendar, and it bears a resemblance to a bottomless pit, because heretofore anything under the head of “special deposits” placed therein has never been heard of again.

Amongst other bits of dainty information, it may be chronicled that the famous Field medal was placed here for safe keeping. Once while Andy Johnson was President an order came from “headquarters” to send the medal to the White House for inspection. The medal left the building, but was returned, unknown to some of the lawful custodians of the place.

It has been the habit from time immemorial to never disturb the ashes of the sepulchre; hence the Field medal rested, but no great harm ensued. It is true, Andy’s reputation for a brief time was under a passing cloud, and the hardest worked man in the country was accused of not reading the newspapers; and here the mischief ends, because the same plates were used to make a new medal, whilst the first one is worth its weight of precious metal, and only a small amount of human labor is lost.

But in order to have a thorough understanding of this mysterious conglomeration of metal, mortar and stone, a description of the men who know the secret of the locks should be forthcoming. Nine locks are concealed in the solid door, and each more desperate and secret than the other. Three men only in the country understand this wonderful combination, but as it is an established fact that no one ever dies or resigns in the Treasury, there need be no fear of a national calamity. United States Treasurer Spinner, Assistant Treasurer Tuttle, and Cashier Wyman are the men designated for the awful duty. As it would stretch this article to a most unreasonable length to do anything like justice to the lives and duties of these faithful public men, it is only necessary to say that General Spinner is the most honest, bluff, inflexible servant that the people ever employed; that he gives out the same kind of metallic ring as one of his own gold coins when properly tested. Assistant Treasurer Tuttle bears the same relation to the Treasury Department that one of Hoe’s cylinder presses does to a newspaper office, and that he is a rare combination of faithfulness, strictest integrity, business talent, and hard work, is a fact never disputed in Washington. Cashier Wyman is the third man of the trio whose business it is to hold the awful keys, and he guards the Treasury vaults just as Cerebus is said to stand sentinel over a remote region, though instead of three heads only one is visible. Whilst Treasurer Spinner and his able assistant know the secret of the locks, it is Cashier Wyman who daily performs the necessary duties connected with them, and he who goes through the awful door must pass his body, dead or alive. During the recent interesting investigations it gave every indication of life.

Treasurer Spinner says: “There is nothing in my Department that I’m not willing the people should know all about, unless it is something under seal turned over to me for safe keeping by the War Department. Some things are here subject to an order from the Secretary of War. I don’t know myself what is in the vault. I think the Secretary had better send some one, and, with others of this office, a thorough understanding can be had, and the authorities will know what is best to do in the matter.”

One gloomy afternoon the work of investigation began. The first object that saw the light of day was a box as elfish as the one dragged from the sea by the fishermen, but instead of being made of copper and fastened with the seal of the great Solomon, it was bound with red tape and bore the waxen seal of some deceased Secretary of the Treasury. When opened it emitted an odor of dead roses. The first article lifted from the box was a heavy square bottle which contained the attar of roses. A considerable quantity of the precious fluid had made its escape, but quite enough remained to perfume the city, if this shall be considered necessary after the carnival has passed away. There was no paper to indicate to whom this attar of roses belonged, but tradition says that some East Indian prince sent it to Martin Van Buren; that it had once been deposited at the Patent Office, and afterwards sent to the Treasury, in the year 1848. The next bottle lifted from the paper wrappings contained pearls. These were remarkably fine on account of shape, size, and purity of color. Two of the pearls were the largest the writer has ever seen. They were oblong in shape, and these two must have given color to the fancy “pearls as large as pigeon eggs.” As there was no way of counting these jewels, it was judged there might have been one hundred and fifty altogether. The next article was a small vial containing diamonds. None of these were large, but they were very clear, and perfect in shape. It seemed as if they must have once been a part of some royal necklace which had been stolen. As is usually the case in calamities of this kind, the detectives only recover the smaller stones. There might have been a thimbleful of diamonds. Thieves evidently had been at work with the treasure, for in the next article brought forth the golden lining of a snuff-box was missing. Next came a gold ornament which had once held together a pearl necklace. The silken string and tassel attached to it showed its East Indian origin. This, it appears, was the article left to show that some President or officer of the Government had been presented with a pearl necklace. It had been placed on exhibition somewhere, and thieves made way with it; but in order to secure what was recovered beyond all chance of future escape, the string and gold fastening were laid in this box.

The next article was a tin box. There was no way to ascertain whether the box was originally intended for pills or matches. There was every reason to believe that the original “Pandora’s box” had been found. But on opening it there was discovered a sealed paper containing gems--thirteen small diamonds of the finest water and four large pearls. A small piece of paper in a box had written upon it this interesting bit of information: “These jewels had originally been presented to Martin Van Buren, but had been stolen from a case in the Patent Office on the night of November 8th, 1848.” These unfortunate gems convey the most useful lesson: If Mistress Van Buren had worn her jewels, instead of placing them where thieves break in and steal, she would have set an illustrious example, and the country would have been no poorer than it is to-day.

The second box opened contained counterfeit coins and dies. These had been deposited by M. C. Young, esq., and they had been received from agents employed to detect counterfeiters. These bore the date of May 10, 1847. These counterfeit gold and silver coins could not deceive an infant of this generation. The first package opened contained Confederate bills, bonds, and small currency. The second package were the spoils won by the United States in a law-suit. This bundle of papers was found to consist of bonds received from Messrs. Redin and Fendall, per Henry May, amount $97,276.33, being the same received by them from Corcoran & Riggs on decree in case of the United States versus Gardiner. Bond to the State of Tennessee. Date of the oldest coupon due, July 1, 1857. The treasurer gave Mr. May a receipt therefor, and is directed by the Secretary of the Treasury to hold these bonds until he shall decide as to entries, etc. Dated April 9, 1855.

The third package was marked $24,963. Upon examination the mark and the contents did not exactly coincide.

The fourth package contained bonds, loan of 1848, returned October 10, 1857, marked $300.

The next in order came a box containing notes of the survey of the boundary between the United States and Mexico, under the treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, from the junction of the Gila and the Colorado to the Pacific coast, deposited by Brevet Captain Hardcastle, United States Navy Topographical Engineers, June 11, 1852.

Fifth package, marked $3,059.64-100. On the outside wrapper was written: “Received of A. Smith, cashier of the Bank of the Metropolis by order of the Secretary of the Treasury the within uncurrent funds, which had been held by said bank on special deposit, consisting of uncurrent bank notes.”

Package No. 6 contained counterfeit State bank notes and legal tenders sent as specimens by M. J. E. D. Cousins, chief of police of St. Louis, Mo.

Package No. 7 contained Confederate bonds held subject to the order of the Secretary of War. Total amount, $12,050.

Package No. 8 contained the sad relics left by a defaulting Treasury clerk in his desk. The man’s name was E. French, and he was assistant disbursing clerk in the Treasury extension. After he had absconded his keys, papers, and money was safely lodged in the vault. The money consisted of $50 in gold and $2.10 in silver.

OLIVIA.

VICTORIA C. WOODHULL.

HER MEMORIAL TO CONGRESS ON THE SUBJECT OF WOMAN SUFFRAGE.

WASHINGTON, _January 11, 1871_.

At precisely the hour appointed Mrs. Woodhull was in her seat in the committee room, awaiting the appearance of the representatives of the legislative body that had declared itself ready to hear anything or everything she had to say pertaining to why she should not be allowed all the “privileges and immunities belonging to citizenship.” To Mrs. Woodhull alone, it is said, belongs the discovery of detecting that, under the rulings of the fourteenth and fifteenth amendments to the Constitution, women are entitled to the ballot. The members of the Judiciary Committee are rather slow in getting to their seats. At half past 10 Mr. Bingham might have been seen in his chair, his hands pinned closely to the back of it, and his expressive face aglow with manly patience. On the opposite side of the table sat Judge Loughridge, of Iowa, leaning listlessly on his hand, his keen, good-natured eyes alive with expectation. Judge Loughridge is fully committed to the movement, but as he is a single man, he is liable to be responsible for any amount of mischief. Mr. Cook, of Illinois, and Mr. Eldridge, of Wisconsin, only were in their places. As time would not wait for laggard members, and the precious morning was slipping away, Mrs. Woodhull was reminded by Mr. Bingham that she could proceed. At this time the room was sparsely filled, and nearly all present were women, friends to the movement, and the majority were people from different States.

Almost hidden from sight in the deep recesses of a window might have been seen Nellie Hutchinson, of the New York _Tribune_, her piquant face and tangled hair as saucy and as refreshing as ever, and not far removed from her was seen another pretty ornament of the press, in the person of Mrs. McChane, of the Philadelphia _Inquirer_. But, arranged in a row behind Mrs. Woodhull were a number of women whose voices have been heard throughout the length and breadth of the land. At the head of the class stood Mrs. Beecher Hooker--her soft, fleecy curls tied down with orthodox precision; the curling feathers of blue harmonizing with her peachy complexion. Her elegantly fitting coat was embroidered with steel beads, but this had nothing to do with the suffrage question. Susan B. Anthony snuggled beside her, clad in a smart new dress of black silk, with velveteen overskirt and fancy basque. Her spectacles clung to her nose, and she had that longing, hope-deferred look which humanity always wears when it has been centered for half a century upon a single idea. Then came Paulina Davis, her face surmounted by her beautiful snowy curls; then Mrs. Josephine S. Griffing, the noblest woman in the land. Rev. Olympia Brown appeared modestly as the “Wall Street firm,” for both the members were present, and distinguished from the other women in the room by dress and other characteristics. The firm of Woodhull & Claflin are clad precisely alike, and call each other “sister.” Their costume consists in what Miss Kate Stanton pronounces a “business suit, because they are strictly business women.” These costumes are made of blue naval cloth, skimp in the skirt. The basque or jacket has masculine coat-tails behind, but the steeple-crowned hats are the towering triumph of the most picturesque outfit. The high sugar-loaf hat has a brigandish dash to it, and the clipped hair underneath seems to have nipped all the feminine element originally possessed by this flourishing “firm.” Mrs. Woodhull arose and stood before the tribunal. She is a medium-sized woman, with a sharp nose, and thin lips which closed tightly over her white teeth. She apologized for any hesitancy in her manner, because it was the first time in her life that she had attempted public speaking. She then read her printed memorial:

The memorial of Victoria Woodhull to the Honorable the Senate
and the House of Representatives, United States of America, in
Congress assembled, respectfully showeth:

That she was born in the State of Ohio, and is above the age
of twenty-one years; that she has resided in the State of New
York during the past three years; that she is still a resident
thereof, and that she is a citizen of the United States
as declared by the fourteenth article of amendment to the
Constitution of the United States.

That since the adoption of the fifteenth article of amendment
to the Constitution neither the State of New York nor any other
State, nor any Territory, has passed any law to abridge any
citizen of the United States to vote, as established by said
articles, neither on account of sex or otherwise.

That, nevertheless, the right to vote is denied to women citizens
of the United States by the operation of election laws in the
several States and Territories, which laws were enacted prior to
the adoption of the said fifteenth article, and which article is
inconsistent with the Constitution as amended, and therefore are
void and of no effect; but, which, being still invoked by the
said States and Territories, render the Constitution inoperative
as regards the right of women citizens to vote.

And whereas article six, section second, declares “That this
Constitution, and the laws of the United States which shall be
made in pursuance thereof, and all treaties made or which shall
be made under the authority of the United States, shall be the
supreme law of the land; and all judges in every State shall be
bound thereby, anything in the constitution and laws of any State
to the contrary notwithstanding.”

And whereas no distinction between citizens is made in the
Constitution of the United States on account of sex, but the
fourteenth article of amendments to it provides that “No State
shall make or enforce any law which shall abridge the privileges
and immunities of the citizens of the United States nor deny to
any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the
laws.”

And whereas Congress has power to make laws which shall be
necessary and proper for carrying into execution all powers
vested by the Constitution in the Government of the United
States, and to make or alter all regulations in relation
to holding elections for Senators and Representatives, and
especially to enforce by appropriate legislation the provisions
of the fourteenth article.

And whereas the continuance of the enforcement of said local
election laws, denying and abridging the right of citizens to
vote on account of sex, is a grievance to your memorialists and
to various other persons, citizens of the United States, being
women.

Therefore your memorialists would most respectfully petition
your honorable bodies to make such laws as in the wisdom
of Congress shall be necessary and proper for carrying into
execution the right vested by the Constitution in the citizens of
the United States to vote without regard to sex.

And your memorialists will ever pray.

VICTORIA C. WOODHULL.

NEW YORK CITY, _December 19, 1870_.

After Mrs. Woodhull had finished her memorial, Miss Susan B. Anthony took the floor and told the committee that she had hurried as fast as railroad and speed would allow her from Kansas, last winter, at this time, in order to get a petition before this body, but after all she was glad that Wall Street had spoken.

Mrs. Beecher Hooker now arose and said that after the subject had been presented to her in this light she had immediately written to Myra Bradwell, who was practicing law in Chicago, for a judicial opinion. She had also invited Mrs. Bradwell to come to this convention and plead the case. Mrs. Bradwell declined on the plea of ill-health, but at the same time she sent a written opinion of the judge of the Superior Court and had presented this to Mr. Riddle, one of the ablest lawyers in the country, and, at her request, Mr. Riddle would now address the committee.

Mr. Riddle arose and said he meant to say nothing save what would bear upon the case; however, he meant to say strongly what he intensely felt, and whoever would take the pains to examine the Constitution which he held in his hands would not attempt to gainsay the facts contained therein. The right of suffrage is a natural right. The right of self-government pertains to all alike, the right to be exercised as all other rights. The right to dress is a natural right, and the right to consume food no matter how artificially prepared is another. What was necessary to bring the negro race to the enjoyment of their natural rights? It was simply to remove obstructions. Legislation can regulate the franchise but not prohibit it. Those who were content for women to vote must do it in one of two ways--either get rid of the word “male” or define the meaning of citizenship. A gifted woman has just given us an argument that can not be refuted. This change has been wrought by an amendment to the Constitution.

The speaker was interrupted by Mr. Cook, of Illinois, asking: “What clause of the Constitution would give us the right to allow Mrs. Woodhull the exercise of suffrage in New York?”

Mr. Riddle replied: “All persons who live under the Constitution are citizens of the United States; those who framed it meant citizenship. We have no half citizens.”

Mrs. Hooker arose and said this term “citizen” had not been fully defined.

Mr. Riddle proceeded to say: “If you look into the dictionaries, you will find it means an inhabitant of a city who is allowed the enjoyment of political rights. The fourteenth amendment claims that all born within the jurisdiction of the United States are citizens, and it also says no State shall make laws to abridge the privileges of citizenship. What does privilege or immunity mean? It means that New York shall not do anything to abridge the privileges.”

The speaker was again interrupted by Mr. Eldridge, of Wisconsin, asking, “Do you claim by this prohibition that the natural rights of infants must not be interfered with, as well as idiots, who must come under the law as you interpret it?”

Mrs. Hooker answered, “That State may say when I may exercise it, but not whether I may do so.”

Mrs. Hooker’s lawyer then proceeded to read from law books some very substantial authority, but the writer could not see its application to the case. He then said two citizens of two different States had a law-suit. Delaware set out to know whether she had the right to rake the oyster beds of New Jersey. In this suit the meaning of “citizen” was thoroughly and carefully discussed, but Mr. Riddle did not let us know whether the Jersey oyster beds were raked. The eloquent speaker went on to say that the right of self-government was older than any amendment to the Constitution. The right of suffrage already exists, but it is not for Congress to define the full meaning of the Constitution. The married woman’s fate is one of servitude. Her identity is lost in that of her husband. She is his servant, and as such only is known to the law. If Mrs. Riddle were killed by an accident on the railway, I could only recover damages for my servant. But, gentlemen, I leave the case in your hands after defining the word “citizen.” It is the natural person rounded and finished with political rights.