December 8th.—A certain excellent Colonel who commands a French regiment visited us to-day. When he came to Washington, one of the Foreign Ministers who had been well acquainted with him said, “My dear Colonel, what a pity we can be no longer friends.” “Why so, Baron?” “Ah, we can never dine together again.” “Why not? Do you forbid me your table?” “No, Colonel, but how can I invite a man who can command the services of at least 200 cooks in his own regiment?” “Well then, Baron, you can come and dine with me.” “What! how do you think I could show myself in your camp—how could I get my hair dressed to sit at the table of a man who commands 300 coiffeurs?” I rode out to overtake a party who had started in carriages for Mount Vernon to visit Washington’s tomb, but missed them in the wonderfully wooded country which borders the Potomac, and returned alone.
