Another eye-witness has described the dramatic scene, and the principal actors in it, in the following graphic paragraphs:  “Near noon I found myself a member of the motley crowd gathered around the side entrance to Willard’s Hotel.  Soon an open barouche drove up, and the only occupant stepped out.  A large, heavy, awkward-moving man, far advanced in years, short and thin gray hair, full face plentifully seamed and wrinkled, head curiously inclined to the left shoulder, a low-crowned, broad-brimmed silk hat, an immense white cravat like a poultice thrusting the old-fashioned standing collar up to the ears, dressed in black throughout, with swallow-tail coat not of the newest style.  It was President Buchanan, calling to take his successor to the Capitol.  In a few minutes he reappeared, with Mr. Lincoln on his arm; the two took seats side by side, and the carriage rolled away, followed by a rather disorderly and certainly not very imposing procession.  I had ample time to walk to the Capitol, and no difficulty in securing a place where everything could be seen and heard to the best advantage.  The attendance at the inauguration was, they told me, unusually small; many being kept away by anticipated disturbance, as it had been rumored—­not without good grounds—­that General Scott himself was fearful of an outbreak, and had made all possible military preparations to meet the emergency.  A square platform had been built out from the steps to the eastern portico, with benches for distinguished spectators on three sides.  Senator Douglas, the only one I recognized, sat at the extreme end of the seat on the right of the narrow passage leading from the steps.  There was no delay, and the gaunt form of the President-elect was soon visible, slowly making his way to the front.  To me, at least, he was completely metamorphosed—­partly by his own fault, and partly through the efforts of injudicious friends and ambitious tailors.  He was raising (to gratify a very young lady, it is said) a crop of whiskers, of the blacking-brush variety, coarse, stiff, and ungraceful; and in so doing spoiled, or at least seriously impaired, a face which, though never handsome, had in its original state a peculiar power and pathos.  On the present occasion the whiskers were reinforced by brand-new clothes from top to toe; black dress coat instead of the usual frock; black cloth or satin vest, black pantaloons, and a glossy hat evidently just out of the box.  To cap the climax of novelty, he carried a huge ebony cane, with a gold head the size of an egg.  In these, to him, strange habiliments, he looked so miserably uncomfortable that I could not help pitying him.  Reaching the platform, his discomfort was visibly increased by not knowing what to do with hat and cane; and so he stood there, the target for ten thousand eyes, holding his cane in one hand and his hat in the other, the picture of helpless embarrassment.  After some hesitation, he pushed the cane into a corner of the