She had told him to meet her at the statue of Washington in the Capitol
Square. They would wait there for the appearance of the President and
follow him. His habits were simple and democratic. He walked daily from
the Confederate White House to the Capitol grounds, crossed the Square
and at the foot of the hill entered his office in the Custom House on
Main Street, unaccompanied by an escort of any kind.
Anybody on earth could approach and speak to him. The humbler the man or
woman, the easier the approach was always made.
Socola was waiting at the big group of statuary contemplating the lines
of its fine workmanship with curious interest.
Jennie startled him from a reverie:
"You like him?"
The white teeth gleamed in pleasant surprise.
"The father of his country?--Yes--I like him. It's going to be my
country, too, you know."
They strolled through the grounds and watched the squirrels leap from
the limbs of a great tree to the swaying boughs of the next.
A tall awkward trooper on whose hat was the sign of a North Carolina
regiment toiled painfully up the hill slightly under the influence of
whisky. Socola saw that he was navigating the steep with difficulty and
turned into a by-path to give him a free passage.
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