The country made an
example of Gashwiler and--Dobbs.
From that moment he disappeared. I looked for him in vain in
anterooms, lobbies, and hotel corridors, and finally came to the
conclusion that he had gone home.
How beautiful was that July Sabbath, when the morning train from
Baltimore rolled into the Washington depot. How tenderly and
chastely the morning sunlight lay on the east front of the Capitol
until the whole building was hushed in a grand and awful repose.
How difficult it was to think of a Gashwiler creeping in and out of
those enfiling columns, or crawling beneath that portico, without
wondering that yon majestic figure came not down with flat of sword
to smite the fat rotundity of the intruder. How difficult to think
that parricidal hands have ever been lifted against the Great
Mother, typified here in the graceful white chastity of her
garments, in the noble tranquillity of her face, in the gathering
up her white-robed children within her shadow.
This led me to think of Dobbs, when, suddenly a face flashed by my
carriage window.
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