The Weekly Comet

The spirited correspondent of the New York Herald, at Washington City, Jan. 9th writes as follows in reference to things there, and the poetic impressions made upon him thereby:

It was late last night (Sunday) when I left the hotel of one of our South American ambassadors and returned to my quiet quarters on Capitol Hill. The city was as silent as the grave. By the way, speaking of graves, it would not be a bad comparison to say that on a moonlight Sunday night, Washington might not be improperly compared to the whitened sepulchre—white, quiet and pretty outside, and full of dead men's (politically) bones, etc., etc., as the blessed Scripture saith.

But I am getting sentimental, when I ought to tell you that this is a great country, and give you especial reasons and facts for so saying. I am amazed when I individualize the Senators and Representatives of millions, and watch their movements. They stoop down in their legislation and pick up paltry pins, when the rich fruits of a vast continent are within their grasp.—They are busy about office, petty contracts—political moonshine—when they should be legislating for the future empire that will know no bounds but the North and South poles, and the Atlantic and Pacific oceans.

I am not a member of Congress thank God. At present I occupy a higher position. I am a correspondent of a press whose offspring circulates in every part and portion of the Christian and Pagan world—the New York Herald. Consequently, I am obliged, in the performance of my responsible duties and destiny, to take a more enlightened view of mankind and the destiny of nations than a mere member of Congress.