of the former isolated hut where my negro washer-woman had lived in the early forties. Washington grew like a gourd in the night, and was then fast becoming what it is now, the most beautiful of cities.
Sir Edward Thornton was the English Minister; the Hon. Hamilton Fish was Secretary of State, and his dear accomplished wife was filling her place as it has seldom been filled. I saw the High Joints (as they were facetiously called) in all their glory at her house at a party — Sir Stafford Northcote, Earl de Grey, etc. The High Joint Commission presented a noble list of names on both sides. One of the most agreeable men at Washington at this time, and for many years after, was the Hon. Henry B. Anthony, of Rhode Island, a dear friend, a polished and cultivated man.
