The House of Representatives is about to adjourn, and many of its members have already come over to the Senate to witness the closing exercises there.  Extra chairs and seats have been brought in for them and the many other prominent officials who also have gathered there, including the officers of the army and the navy, the justices of the Supreme Court, the cabinet officers, and the foreign ambassadors and ministers, many of whom are dressed in their gorgeous state robes.  According to law, Congress must come to an end at noon; but if the presidential party has not made its appearance when the Senate clock is about to point to twelve, the hands are moved back a few minutes so as to gain time.  And before the hands are allowed to get around to twelve, everybody has arrived, everything is in readiness, and the President of the Senate has administered the oath of office to his successor, the new Vice-President of the United States, who at once calls an extra session of the Senate, so that not a moment elapses between the death of one session and the birth of another.  Then, after a short prayer by the chaplain and a brief address by the Vice-President, the distinguished people gathered in the Senate form in line, and, headed by a company of newspaper reporters, they march in dignified procession to the rotunda, and thence to the platform on the east front of the Capitol.

The nine justices of the Supreme Court, clothed in their black robes, walk out on the platform first, followed by the President-elect.  As soon as the crowd catches sight of him, a deafening shout breaks forth from fifty thousand throats, and, amid the enthusiastic uproar that lasts several minutes, hats and canes, umbrellas and handkerchiefs, are waved aloft or thrown wildly into the air by joyous and patriotic Americans.  Removing his hat, the President-elect comes forward, and, turning to the Chief Justice of the United States, takes the oath of office as required by the Constitution.  Then comes the inaugural address, which, of course, only those near the platform are able to hear.  But the thirty or forty thousand who can’t hear the speech are willing to agree with everything that is said, and every little while they shout and cheer and applaud.

[Illustration:  THE INAUGURATION OF PRESIDENT GARFIELD]

All this time the crowd on the avenue has been patiently waiting for the return of the President.  The morning’s procession was nothing more than a military escort; now is to come the great feature of the day—­the grand inauguration parade.  The ceremonies at the Capitol are over at half-past one, and the new President goes at once to the White House, greeted with rousing cheers all along the way, and prepares to review the greatest parade ever seen in the city of Washington.  All the morning, companies of soldiers, political clubs, bands, and drum corps have been preparing for the afternoon’s march.  There are so many thousands who are going to take part in the parade that orders have been given requiring all companies to march in ranks reaching from curb to curb, a distance of one hundred and thirty feet, and to follow one another as closely as possible.