think must have a damping effect upon the enthusiasm of the speaker.  The “Hear hears” and “cheers” of friends, and the “Oh ohs” or “laughter” of opponents, certainly give an air of much greater excitement to the scene, and act as an encouragement to the orator.  But such exclamations are not allowed either in the Senate or the House of Representatives.  The chamber of the latter is of course much larger than that of the Senators, and, as far as I can judge, a bad room to hear in.  When the new wings are finished, they will move into one of them, and their present chamber is, I believe, to be a library.  I had no opportunity of hearing any of the oratory of this house, as they were merely hustling a few money and minor bills through, previous to the inauguration, which closed their session.  They also have each a desk and chair; but with their increasing numbers I fear that any room large enough to afford them such accommodation must be bad for speaking in.—­Let us now turn to the great event of the day, i.e., the Inauguration.

The senators are all in their places; ministers of foreign Powers and their suites are seated on the row of benches under the gallery; the expectant masses are waiting outside; voices are suddenly hushed, and all eyes turned towards the door of the senate-chamber; the herald walks in, and says, “The President Elect of the United States.”  The chosen of his country appears with as little form or ceremony as a gentleman walking into an ordinary drawing-room.  All rise as he enters.

I watched the man of the day as he proceeded to his seat on the floor of the senate.  There was neither pride in his eye nor nervousness in his step, but a calm and dignified composure, well fitted to his high position, as though gratified ambition were duly tempered by a deep sense of responsibility.  The procession moved out in order to a platform in front of the Capitol, the late able president walking side by side with his untried successor, and apparently as calm in resigning office as his successor appeared to be in entering upon it.  Of the inaugural speech I shall say nothing, as all who care to read it have done so long since.  But one thing should always be remembered, and that is, that the popular candidates here are all compelled to “do a little Buncombe,” and therefore, under the circumstances, I think it must be admitted there was as little as was possible.  That speech tolled the knell, for the present at least, of the Whig party, and ushered in the reign of General Pierce and the Democrats.

Since these lines were penned, the “chosen of the nation” has passed through his ordeal of four years’ administration; and, whatever private virtues may have adorned his character, I imagine the unanimous voice of his countrymen would unhesitatingly declare, that so utterly inefficient a man never filled the presidential chair.  He has been succeeded by Mr. Buchanan, who was well known as the accredited