Mr. Blaine is an excellent talker, very popular with the ladies.  In a drawing-room, he is generally found in a corner, quoting poetry (a specialty of his) to some handsome lady.  He knows all the poetry in the world!  They say that he is the best Speaker the House has ever known; it is quite wonderful to see the rapidity with which he counts the Ayes and Noes, pointing at each voter with the handle of his club.  He grasps a situation in an instant, and gives a quick retort when he thinks it is deserved.  Roscoe Conkling is quite a different type.  He is very dignified and pompous—­perhaps a little theatrical; not at all a society man, and, though he may be less vain than Mr. Blaine, he has the appearance of being more so.

The foreign Ministers have the “right of the floor,” which means they have the right to enter the House of Representatives when they like.  On one great occasion a member of the House offered M. de Schloezer his seat, which happened to be between two members who suddenly got up and began the most heated discussion over Schloezer’s head.  He found the situation dangerous and wished himself elsewhere.  He said he felt like the Biblical baby when the two mothers were wrangling before the great Solomon.  However, the storm spent itself in words, and fortunately the disputants did not come to blows.

Johan says he was very much struck the first time he went to Congress by seeing two opposing members, after bitterly attacking each other for hours, walk quietly away arm-in-arm, obviously the best of friends.

A little incident which occurred in the Senate amused Johan very much.  Roscoe Conkling begged a colleague sitting next to him to read out loud something he wished to quote in his speech while he paused to draw a breath.  The colleague read, and Conkling, without a word of thanks, took back the book; but when a colored man brought him a cup of tea (which he always takes during his speeches) he stood up and in a very loud voice, making a solemn bow, said, “I thank you, sir!”

I call that coquetting with the gallery, don’t you?

We have been invited to take a trip to California by the railroad company.  We can transport ourselves to Omaha; then all our expenses are to be defrayed by the lavish company.  We have all accepted.  Who could refuse such a tempting invitation?

CALIFORNIA, Spring, 1877.

Dear M.,—­The rendezvous was to be at the third station before reaching Omaha, where we really did all meet.  On arriving at the next one, some of the party asked the conductor how long the train would stop, and he answered, “Twenty minutes”; so off they started on foot to see the town.  We wise ones stayed in the train, which also started off, leaving our truants behind, but their bags remained with us.

When they returned to the station, before the twenty minutes had expired, they found the train gone!  They hired a special train at great expense and delay, hoping to overtake us at Omaha.  But before they reached Omaha an official appeared and said that he had received a telegram from headquarters at Chicago, acknowledging that the conductor had been at fault in starting a little earlier than he had said; therefore the company felt itself responsible and insisted on refunding the money the extra train had cost.