)
SCENE AT THE CAPITOL
I must mention a strange scene at the capitol, the hall of
Representatives, the morning of Saturday last, (March 4th.) The
day just dawn'd, but in half-darkness, everything dim, leaden, and
soaking. In that dim light, the members nervous from long drawn duty,
exhausted, some asleep, and many half asleep. The gas-light, mix'd
with the dingy day-break, produced an unearthly effect. The poor
little sleepy, stumbling pages, the smell of the hall, the members
with heads leaning on their desks, the sounds of the voices speaking,
with unusual intonations--the general moral atmosphere also of the
close of this important session--the strong hope that the war is
approaching its close--the tantalizing dread lest the hope may be a
false one--the grandeur of the hall itself, with its effect of vast
shadows up toward the panels and spaces over the galleries--all made
a mark'd combination.
In the midst of this, with the suddenness of a thunderbolt, burst one
of the most angry and crashing storms of rain and hail ever heard. It
beat like a deluge on the heavy glass roof of the hall, and the wind
literally howl'd and roar'd. For a moment, (and no wonder,) the
nervous and sleeping Representatives were thrown into confusion. The
slumberers awaked with fear, some started for the doors, some look'd
up with blanch'd cheeks and lips to the roof, and the little pages
began to cry; it was a scene. But it was over almost as soon as the
drowsied men were actually awake.
Pages:
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121