Sarah's Ground (9781439115855) Read Free Page B

items with us.
To think that I’m shopping for Mr. Washington’s home,
I thought. And still I could not believe it.
    On the way back to our hotel our driver told us that ifwe had a spyglass, we would be able to see the Confederate flag. He pointed across the river to Virginia. “On top of a tavern in Alexandria.”
    When we got back to Willard’s on Fourteenth Street, we found it becoming crowded. Uniformed attendants were busily welcoming guests, helping people out of hacks, grabbing portmanteaus. The slaves of the planters who had come for political reasons were waiting outside on the sidewalk. Bewhiskered, loudmouthed men and soldiers were all over the lobby.
    It was late and we were glad to get back, and after bringing our purchases upstairs in the hotel, Miss Cunningham found we were just in time for the seven thirty tea, which wasn’t a tea at all but boasted such delicacies as fried oysters, pâté de foie gras, blancmange, and dessert. The hotel was really filling up now.
    â€œThere will be many an agreement made over juleps in the bar this day,” our waiter told us.
    From my bed this night all I heard was the tread of men marching and the sound of fifes and drums. The moon made a white light on the Potomac. We’d heard that on the Virginia shore Southern regiments were establishing outposts.
    And today we’d bought kitchen knives, a sieve, and a rolling pin for George Washington’s kitchen.
    â€œIt is to be a place of neutral feeling, Mount Vernon,”Miss Cunningham had told me at supper. I didn’t think there was an ounce of neutral feeling anywhere in the Federal City, or anywhere this night. Under me I thought I felt the earth move.
    I slept.

Three
    S omehow the next morning we managed to get out of Washington. After breakfast, which included steak and onions as well as more fried oysters, we hailed another hack and piled our purchases in it. The attendants and clerks in the hotel were so filled up with themselves and their own importance in the crisis, you would think they had voted for secession of Virginia. They paid no mind to two ladies with packages. They obliged the important-looking gentlemen first.
    But we got into our hack and made our way through the turmoil that was on the streets to the Sixth Street Wharf, to get the boat for Mount Vernon. There was a considerable tie-up in traffic right around the unfinished Washington Monument.
    â€œWhat has happened?” Miss Cunningham asked the driver.
    By now we had both figured out that hack drivers know more than Congress.
    â€œCattle fell into the canal,” he said.
    â€œCattle?” I asked.
    â€œThe government had a whole herd grazing around themonument. They’re to feed the army. Something frightened them. Maybe a stray dog, and they made for the water. Had to be fished out. Some drowned.”
    Now the cattle were being herded through the streets, apparently ahead of us. So we didn’t get to the wharf until noon, and the morning boat had already left. We had to wait two hours for the next one, but Miss Cunningham wouldn’t leave. She paid a small Nigra boy to guard our possessions on the wharf, then we made our way to an enchanting park nearby and sat down under some trees. A vendor came by with ices and we bought some.
    Soon the park began to fill up with soldiers, detoured in their journey as we had been. Within a short time they gave an impromptu regimental concert, and visitors wandered over to sit on the grass and listen. Young women flirted with the soldiers, children ran amongst them, and it soon became a grand celebration. Some of the men had a great cast-iron gun that they fired at targets in the river. Everyone became very excited. On the heels of all that came a group of women handing out coffee and cake to the soldiers, and I was able to buy some for us.
    â€œIt’s like a holiday,” I said, “all over this city. Nothing but flags and music and