The cabmen here, as in every other place I ever visited, make strenuous efforts to do the new comers.  They tried it on me; so, to show them how knowing I was, I quoted their legitimate fares.  “Ah, sir,” says Cabby, “that’s very well; but, you see, we charges more at times like these.”  I replied, “You’ve no right to raise your charges; by what authority do you do it?” “Oh, sir, we meet together and agree what is the proper thing.”  “But,” says I, “the authorities are the people to settle those things.”  “The authorities don’t know nothing at all about it; we can manage our own matters better than they.”  And they all stoutly stuck to their own charges, the effect of which was that I scarcely saw a dozen cabs employed during the ten days I was there.

Nothing could exceed the crowd in the streets, in the hotels, and everywhere; the whole atmosphere was alive with the smoke of the fragrant weed, and all the hotels were afloat with the juice thereof.  The city has repeatedly been called the City of Magnificent Distances; but anything so far behind its fellow cities cannot well be imagined.  It sounds incredible—­nevertheless, it is a fact—­that, except from the Capitol to the “White House,” there is not a street-light of any kind, or a watchman.  I lost my way one evening, and wandered all over the town for two hours, without seeing light or guardian of any kind.  I suppose this is intended as a proof of the honest and orderly conduct of the inhabitants, but I fear it must also be taken as a proof of their poverty or want of energy.  Whatever the reason may be, it certainly is a reflection on the liberality of the Government, that the capital of this Great Union should be the worst paved, worst lit, and worst guarded in the whole Republic.

The system of sweeping changes on the election of a new president tends materially to stop any increase of householders, the uncertain tenure of office making the employes prefer clustering in hotels and boarding-houses to entering on a short career of housekeeping, which will, of course, militate against any steady increase of the city, and thus diminish the tax-payers.  There are several hotels, but they will not stand the least comparison with those in any of the leading towns of the Union.  Like the hotels in London, they are crammed during the season—­i.e., session—­and during the rest of the year are comparatively empty, and consequently do not pay very well; but they are not the only establishments that make hay during the session; if report speaks truly, the bars and gambling-houses reap an immense harvest from the representatives of the people in both houses of congress.