A few years after his court-martial Mackenzie fell dead from his horse. One of the wardroom officers of the Somers was Adrian Deslonde of Louisiana, whose sister married the Hon. John Slidell, of whom I have already spoken as Commander Mackenzie's brother.

I seldom hear the name of John Slidell without being reminded of a witticism which I heard from my mother's lips, the author of which was Louisa Fairlie, a daughter of Major James Fairlie, who, during the War of the Revolution, served upon General Steuben's staff. She was, I have understood, a great belle with a power of repartee which bordered upon genius. During the youth of John Slidell he attended a dinner at a prominent New York residence and sat at the table next to Miss Fairlie. In a tactless manner he made a pointedly unpleasant remark bearing upon the marriage of her sister Mary to the distinguished actor, Thomas Apthorpe Cooper, a subject upon which the Fairlie family was somewhat sensitive. Miss Fairlie regarded Mr. Slidell for only a moment, and then retorted: "Sir, you have been dipped not moulded into society"—an incident which, by the way, I heard repeated many years later at a dinner in China. To appreciate this witticism, one may refer to the New York directory of 1789, which describes John Slidell, the father of the Slidell of whom we are speaking, as "soap boiler and chandler, 104 Broadway." Miss Fairlie's pun seems to me to be quite equal to that of Rufus Choate, who, when a certain Baptist minister described himself as "a candle of the Lord," remarked, "Then you are a dipped, but I hope not a wick-ed candle." It is said that upon another occasion, after the return of Mr. Slidell from a foreign trip, he was asked by Miss Fairlie whether he had been to Greece. He replied in the negative and asked the reason for her query. "Oh, nothing," she said, "only it would have been very natural for you to visit Greece in order to renew early associations!" Many years thereafter Priscilla Cooper, the wife of Robert Tyler and the daughter-in-law of President John Tyler, a daughter of Thomas Apthorpe Cooper and his wife, Mary Fairlie, presided at the White House during the widowhood of her distinguished father-in-law.

As has already been stated, the father of the Hon. John Slidell was a chandler, and he conducted his business with such success that in time he became prominent in mercantile and financial circles, and eventually was made president of the Mechanics Bank and the Tradesmen's Insurance Company. His son John, who at first engaged in his father's soap and tallow business as an apprentice, finally succeeded him, and the enterprise was continued under the firm name of "John Slidell, Jr. and Company." The house failed, however, and it is said that this fact, together with the scandal attending his duel with Stephen Price, manager of the Park Theater, in which the latter was wounded, were the controlling factors that led the future Hon. John Slidell to remove his residence to New Orleans. In this place he became highly celebrated as a lawyer, and his successful political career is well known. He married Miss Marie Mathilde Deslonde, a member of a well-known Creole family, and many persons still living will recall her grace and savoir faire in Washington when her husband represented Louisiana in the United States Senate. Miss Jane Slidell, a sister of the Hon. John Slidell, married Commodore Matthew C. Perry, U.S.N., who opened the doors of Japan to the trade of the world, and whose daughter, Caroline Slidell Perry, became the wife of the late August Belmont of New York, while Julia, another of Mr. Slidell's sisters, married the late Rear Admiral C. R. P. Rodgers, U.S.N.



CHAPTER V

LONG BRANCH, NEWPORT AND ELSEWHERE

When I was about ten years of age, accompanied by my parents, I made a visit to Long Branch, which was then one of the most fashionable summer resorts for New Yorkers. As we made the journey by steamboat and the water was rough we were the victims of a violent attack of seasickness from which few of the passengers escaped. Many Philadelphians also spent their summers at this resort, and there was naturally a fair sprinkling of people from other large cities. At that time there were no hotels in the place, but there was one commodious boarding house which accommodated a large number of guests. It bore no name, but was designated as "Mrs. Sairs'," from its proprietress. In this establishment our whole family, by no means small, found accommodations. I recall many pleasant acquaintances we made while there, especially that of Miss Molly Hamilton of Philadelphia. She was a vivacious old lady, and was accompanied by her nephew, Hamilton Beckett, in whom I found a congenial playmate. His name made a strong impression upon my memory, as I was then reading the history of Thomas a Becket, the murdered Archbishop of Canterbury. I have heard that this friend of my childhood went eventually to England to reside. The Penningtons of Newark had a cottage near us. William Pennington subsequently became Governor of New Jersey. I also enjoyed the youthful companionship of his daughter Mary, whom many years later I met in Washington. In the interval she had become a pronounced belle and the wife of Hugh A. Toler of Newark.

The guests of the boarding house were inclined to complain that the beach was too exclusively appropriated by two acquaintances of ours who were living in the same house with us, Mrs. G. W. Featherstonhaugh and Mrs. Thomas M. Willing, and their train of admirers. They were sprightly young women and daughters of Bernard Moore Carter of Virginia. I remember it was the gossip of the place that both of them could count their offers of marriage by the score. Mrs. Willing was a skilled performer upon the harp, an instrument then much in vogue, but whose silvery tones are now, alas, only memory's echo. Mr. Featherstonhaugh, who was by birth an Englishman, after residing in the United States a few years, wrote in 1847 a book entitled "Excursion through the Slave States from Washington on the Potomac to the Frontier of Mexico." I recall that in this volume he spoke with enthusiasm of the agrements of the palate which he enjoyed during a few days' sojourn at Barnum's Hotel in Baltimore. He dwelt particularly, with gastronomic ecstasy, upon the canvas-back duck and soft-shell crab upon which he feasted, and was inclined to draw an unfavorable comparison between the former hotel and Gadsby's, the well-known Washington hostelry. Upon his journey he visited Monticello, the former home of Thomas Jefferson. His encomium on this distinguished man appealed to me as I am sure it does to others; he spoke of him as the "Confucius of his country." Altogether, Mr. Featherstonhaugh's experiences in America were as novel and entertaining as a sojourn with Aborigines.

Just off the beach at Long Branch was a high bluff which descended gradually to the sea, and at this point were several primitive bath houses belonging to Mrs. Sairs' establishment. Following the prevalent custom, we wore no bathing shoes and stockings, but, accompanied by a stalwart bathing master, we enjoyed many dips in the briny deep, and were brought safely back by him to our bath house. There was no immodest lingering on the beach; this privilege was reserved for the advanced civilization of a later day.

While I was still a young child, and some years after our visit to Long Branch, my infant brother Malcolm became seriously ill. Dr. John W. Francis, our family physician, prescribed a change of air for him, and my parents took him to Newport. We found pleasant accommodations for our family in a fashionable boarding house on Thames Street, the guests of which were composed almost exclusively of Southern families. Newport was then in an exceedingly primitive state and I have no recollection of seeing either cottages or hotels, while modern improvements were unknown. We led a simple outdoor life, taking our breakfast at eight, dining at two and supping at six. It was indeed "early to bed and early to rise."

As I recall these early days in Newport, two fascinating old ladies, typical Southern gentlewomen, the Misses Philippa and Hetty Minus of Savannah, present themselves vividly to my memory. After we returned to our New York home we had the pleasure of meeting them again and entertaining them. Another charming guest of our establishment was the wife of James L. Pettigru, an eminent citizen of South Carolina. She was the first woman of fashion presented to my girlish vision, and her mode of life was a revelation. She kept very late hours, often lingering in her room the next morning until midday. As I was then familiar with Miss Edgeworth's books for young people, which all judicious parents purchased for their children, I immediately designated Mrs. Pettigru as "Lady Delacour," whose habits and fashions are so pleasingly described in that admirable novel, "Belinda." Although born and bred in South Carolina, Mr. Pettigru remained loyal to the Union, and after his death his valuable library was purchased by Congress. The members of another representative South Carolina family, the Allstons, were also among our fellow boarders at Long Branch. This name always brings to mind the pathetic history of Theodosia Burr, Aaron Burr's only child, and her sad death; while the name of Washington Allston, the artist, is too well known to be dwelt upon.

After a month's pleasant sojourn in Newport my brother's health had materially improved and we returned to our New York home by the way of Boston, where we were guests at the Tremont House. I blush to acknowledge to the Bostonians who may peruse these pages that my chief recollection of this visit is that I was standing on the steps of the hotel, when I was accosted by a gentleman, who exclaimed: "You are a Campbell, I'll bet ten thousand dollars!" I apologize for writing such a personal reminiscence of such an historic town, but such are the freaks of memory. This was prior to the maturer days of William Lloyd Garrison, Wendell Phillips and Ralph Waldo Emerson.

Before passing on to other subjects I must not omit mentioning that at this period the currency used in the New England States differed from that of New York. This fact was brought vividly before me in Newport when I made an outlay of a shilling at a candy store. In return for my Mexican quarter of a dollar I was handed a small amount of change. I left the shop fully convinced that I was a victim of sharp practice, but learned later that there was a slight difference between the shilling used in New York and that used in New England.

Many years later I visited Boston again, this time as the guest of Mr. and Mrs. Robert C. Winthrop at their superb Brookline home; and, escorted by Mr. Winthrop and Mr. and Mrs. Jabez L. M. Curry of Alabama, who were also their house-guests, I visited all the points of historical interest. Both Mr. Winthrop and Mr. Curry were then trustees of the Peabody Fund. A few years after we separated in Boston Mr. and Mrs. Curry went to Spain to reside, where, as American Minister, he was present at the birth of King Alfonso of Spain.

About fifteen years later I again visited Newport, but this time I was a full-fledged young woman. During my absence a large number of hotels and cottages had been erected, many of which were occupied by Southern families who still continued to regard this Rhode Island resort as almost exclusively their own. I recall the names of many of them, all of whom were conspicuous in social life in the South. Among them were the Middletons, whose ancestors were historically prominent; the Pinckneys, descended from the illustrious Charles Cotesworth Pinckney, who uttered the well-known maxim, "Millions for defense but not one cent for tribute;" the Izards; the Draytons, of South Carolina; and the Habershams of Georgia. During this visit in Newport I was the guest, at their summer cottage, of my life-long friends, the Misses Mary and Margaret Gelston, daughters of Maltby Gelston, former President of the Manhattan Bank of New York. Not far from the Gelstons resided what Sam Weller would call three "widder women." They were sisters, the daughters of Ralph Izard of Dorchester, S.C., and bore distinguished South Carolina names; Mrs. Poinsett who had been the wife of Joel Roberts Poinsett, the well-known statesman and Secretary of War under Van Buren, Mrs. Eustis, the widow of Gen. Abram Eustis, U.S.A., who had served in the War of 1812, and Mrs. Thomas Pinckney, whose husband, the nephew of General Charles Cotesworth Pinckney, had been a wealthy rice planter in South Carolina. The beautiful Christmas flower, the poinsettia, was named in compliment to Mr. Poinsett. These interesting women for many years were in the habit of leaving what they called their "Carolina" home for a summer sojourn at Newport, where their house was one of the social centers of attraction. With their graceful bearing, gentle voices and cordial manners they were characteristic types of the Southern grandes dames now so seldom seen. A short distance from my hosts' cottage lived the daughter of Charles Carroll of Carrollton, who was also the widow of Robert Goodloe Harper, a prominent Federalist and a United States Senator during the administrations of Madison and Monroe. Mrs. Harper's sister married Richard Caton of Maryland, whose daughters made such distinguished British matrimonial alliances. Her daughter, Emily Harper, upon whose personality I love to dwell, was from her earliest childhood endowed with strong religious traits. Her gentle Christian character exemplified charity to all who were fortunate enough to come within the radius of her influence. She was in every sense of the word a deeply religious woman, and her influence upon those around her was of the most elevating character.

I shall always remember with the keenest enjoyment some of the pleasant teas at this hospitable home of the Harpers in Newport. All sects were welcomed, Episcopalians, Presbyterians, Hebrews, Unitarians, and I doubt not that an equally cordial reception would have awaited Mahommedans or Hindoos. I once heard Miss Harper say that she shared with Chateaubriand the ennobling sentiment that the salvation of one soul was of more value than the conquest of a kingdom. Naturally the Harper cottage was the rendezvous for Southerners and its hospitable roof sheltered many prominent people, especially guests from Maryland. Mr. Maltby Gelston told me at the time of this visit that Mrs. Harper was the only child of a Signer then living. It is probable that he spoke from positive knowledge, as he was an authority upon the subject, having married the granddaughter of Philip Livingston, a New York Signer. A few years later, when I was married in Washington, D.C., I was deeply gratified when Miss Harper came from Baltimore to attend my wedding. The marked attentions paid to her by Caleb Cushing, then Attorney-General under President Pierce, were the source of much gossip, but she seemed entirely indifferent to his devotion. I once heard him express great annoyance after a trip to Baltimore because he failed to see her on account of a headache with which she was said to be suffering, and he inquired of me in a petulant manner whether headaches were an universal feminine malady. Like her mother, she lived to a very advanced age and when she departed this life the world lost one of its saintliest characters.

One of the most attractive cottages in Newport at the time of my second visit was occupied by Mr. and Mrs. Henry Casimir de Rham of New York. It was densely shaded by a number of graceful silver-maple trees. Mr. de Rham was a prosperous merchant of Swiss extraction, whose wife was Miss Maria Theresa Moore, a member of one of New York's most prominent families and a niece of Bishop Benjamin Moore of New York.

The social leaders of Newport at this period were Mr. and Mrs. Robert Morgan Gibbes, whose winter home was in New York. Mr. Gibbes, who, by the way, was a great-uncle of William Waldorf Astor, was a South Carolinian by birth and had married Miss Emily Oliver of Paterson, New Jersey. They lived in a handsome house, gave sumptuous entertainments, and had an interesting family of daughters, several of whom I knew quite well. One well-remembered evening I attended a party at their house which was regarded as the social affair of the season. It made a lasting impression upon my mind owing to a trivial circumstance which seems hardly worth relating. It was the first time I had ever seen mottoes used at entertainments, and at this party they were exceptionally handsome. The one which fell to my share, and which I treasured for some time, bore upon it a large bunch of red currants. These favors were always imported, and a few years later became so fashionable that no dinner or supper table was regarded as quite the proper thing without them. I take it for granted that this custom was the origin of the german favors which in the course of time came into such general use.

In 1853 I made a third visit to Newport as the guest of Mrs. Winfield Scott. General Scott's headquarters were then in Washington, but, as his military views were widely divergent from those of Jefferson Davis, President Pierce's Secretary of War, he was urging the President to transfer him to New York. I have frequently heard the General jocosely remark that he longed for a Secretary of War who would not "make him cry." The Scotts at this period were spending their winters in Washington and their summers in Newport. Meanwhile his numerous admirers, in recognition of his distinguished services, presented him with a house on West Twelfth Street which was occupied by him and his family after his transfer to New York. The principal donor of this residence was the Hon. Hamilton Fish.

After a charming sojourn of several weeks in Newport, I was about returning to my home when I casually invited General Scott's youngest daughter, Marcella ("Ella"), then only a schoolgirl, to accompany me to Miss Harper's cottage, as I wished to say good-bye. Upon entering the drawing-room a cousin and guest of Miss Harper's, Charles Carroll McTavish of Howard County, Maryland, appeared upon the threshold and was introduced to us. He was then approaching middle life and I learned later that he had served some years in the Russian Army. Marcella Scott's appearance apparently fascinated him from the moment they met, and from that day he began to be devotedly attentive to her. Mrs. Scott, however, entirely disapproved of Mr. McTavish's attentions to her daughter on account of her extreme youth. A few months later Marcella returned to Madame Chegaray's school, where she became a boarding pupil and was not allowed to see visitors. The following winter she was taken ill with typhoid fever, and, when convalescent enough to be moved, was brought to my home in Houston Street, New York, to recuperate, as the Scotts were still living in Washington and the journey was considered too long and arduous to be taken by an invalid. Meanwhile, Mr. McTavish renewed his attentions to Miss Scott and the impression made was more than a passing fancy for in the following June they were married in the Twelfth Street house of which I have already spoken, General Scott having in the interim succeeded in having his headquarters removed to New York.

I had the pleasure of being present at this wedding, which, in spite of a warm day in June and the many absentees from the city, was one of exceptional brilliancy. The Army and Navy were well represented, the officers of both branches of the service appearing in full-dress uniform. The hour appointed for the ceremony was high noon, but an amusing contretemps blocked the way. An incorrigible mantua-maker, faithless to all promises and regardless of every sense of propriety, failed to send home the bridal dress at the appointed time. This state of affairs proved decidedly embarrassing, but the guests were informed of the cause of the delay and patiently awaited developments. Behind the scenes, however, quite a different spectacle was presented, while amid much bustle and excitement a second wedding gown was being hurriedly prepared. After an hour's delay, however, the belated garment arrived, when the bride-elect was quickly dressed and walked into the large drawing-room in all of her bridal finery, leaning, as was then the custom, upon the arm of the groom. Archbishop Hughes conducted the wedding service, and seized upon the auspicious occasion to make an address of some length. Previous to the ceremony, my intimate friend, the young bride's older sister, Cornelia Scott, who a few years previous had become while in Rome a convert to Catholicism, asked me with much earnestness of manner to do my best to entertain the Archbishop, as she thought, in her kind way, that he might be somewhat out of his element when surrounded by such a large and fashionable assemblage. This was, indeed, a pleasing task, as it enabled me to renew my earlier acquaintance with this gifted prelate. The only member of the groom's family present at this ceremony was his handsome brother, Alexander S. McTavish, who came from Baltimore for the occasion. Strange to say, in view of the many presents usually displayed upon such occasions nowadays, I do not remember, although I was a family guest, seeing or hearing of a single bridal gift, but some of the wedding guests I recall very distinctly. Among them were Mr. and Mrs. Charles King, the former of whom was President of Columbia College and an intimate friend of General Scott's; Mr. and Mrs. Robert Ray, whose daughter Cornelia married Major Schuyler Hamilton, aide-de-camp to General Scott during the Mexican war; Prof. Clement C. Moore and his daughter Theresa; Mr. and Mrs. Edward Mayo of Elizabeth, N.J., the former of whom was Mrs. Scott's brother; Mrs. Robert Henry Cabell, a sister of Mrs. Scott's from Richmond; Major Thomas Williams, an aide to General Scott, who was killed during the Civil War; and Major Henry L. Scott, aide and son-in-law of General Scott.

The same evening, after the wedding guests had departed and quiet again reigned supreme in the household, I went to Mrs. Scott's room to sit with her, as she seemed sad and lonely, and at the same time to talk over with her, womanlike, the events of the day. In our quiet conversation I remember referring to Archbishop Hughes's address to the groom, and asked her if she had observed that he had dwelt upon the bride "being taken from an affectionate father," while the remaining members of the family were entirely ignored. Mrs. Scott immediately bristled up and with much warmth of feeling said that she had noticed the omission and believed that the action of the Archbishop was premeditated. Just here was an undercurrent which as an intimate friend of the family I fully understood. After Virginia Scott's death at the Georgetown Convent Mrs. Scott was most outspoken in her denunciation of the Roman Catholic Church, which she felt had robbed her of her daughter.

Some years after his marriage Charles Carroll McTavish applied to the Legislature of Maryland for permission to drop his surname and to assume that of his great-grandfather, Charles Carroll. As this request was strenuously opposed by other descendants of the Signer, who regarded it as inexpedient to increase the number of Charles Carrolls, the petition of Mr. McTavish was not granted. Mary Wellesley McTavish, his sister, I remember as a sprightly young woman of fine appearance. She made her debut in London society as the guest of her aunt, Mary McTavish, wife of the Marquis of Wellesley. After a brief courtship she married Henry George Howard, a son of the Earl of Carlisle, and accompanied him to the Netherlands, where he was the accredited British Minister. Mrs. George Bancroft, wife of the historian, who accompanied her husband when he was our Minister to England, gave me an interesting sketch of Mrs. Howard's varied life. Death finally claimed her in Paris and her body was brought back to this country and buried in Maryland, the home of her youth. Her mother, who brought the remains across the ocean, soon after her bereavement, established "The House of the Good Shepherd" in Baltimore.

Three daughters of Mr. and Mrs. Charles Carroll McTavish grew into womanhood. The elder sisters, Mary and Emily, both of whom were well known for their beauty and vivacity, entered upon cloistered lives. Just as the two sisters were about taking this step, they made a request, which caused much comment, to the effect that they should be assigned to different convents. I understand that Mrs. McTavish, their mother, is still living in Rome with the unmarried daughter. During Mrs. Scott's residence in Paris she was invited to witness the ceremony of "taking the veil" at a prominent convent, and writing to her family at home she remarked: "How strange that human beings, knowing the fickleness of their natures, should bind themselves for life to one limited space and unvarying mode of existence."

Hoboken, or, as it was sometimes called, Paulus Hook, was a great resort in my earlier life for residents of the great metropolis. We children, accompanied by my father or some other grown person, delighted to roam in that locality over what was most appropriately termed the "Elysian Fields." Professional landscape-gardening had not then been thought of, but nature's achievements often surpass the embellishments of man. Our cup of happiness was full to the brim when we were taken to this entrancing spot overlooking the Hudson River, with its innumerable sloops, steamboats and tugs adding so much to the picturesqueness of the scene. As we strolled along, we regaled ourselves every now and then with a refreshing glass of mead, a concoction of honey and cold water, purchased from a passing vender; and when cakes or candy were added to the refreshing drink life seemed very couleur de rose to our childish dreams. Then again we made occasional trips up the river, but the steamboats and other excursion craft of that day were of course mere pigmies compared with those of the present time. The cabin always had a large dining table, on either side of which was a line of berths. Guests were called to dinner at one o'clock by the vigorous ringing of a large bell in the hands of a colored waiter dressed in a white apron and jacket. I have often thought how surprised and pleased this old-time servant, universally seen in every well-to-do household in those days, would be if he could return to earth and hear himself addressed as "butler."

It was upon one of these trips up the Hudson that the widow of General Alexander Hamilton and her daughter, Mrs. Hamilton Holly, were taking their mid-day repast, at one end of the long table, when they were informed that Aaron Burr was partaking of the same meal not far from them. Their indignation was boundless, and immediately there were two vacant chairs. Mrs. Holly was a woman of strong intellect, and a friendship which I formed with her is one of the most cherished memories of my life. She devoted her widowhood to the care of her aged mother. We often engaged in confidential conversations, when she would discuss the tragedies which so clouded her life. I especially remember her dwelling upon the sad history of her sister, Angelica Hamilton, who, she told me, was in the bloom of health and surrounded by everything that goes towards making life happy when her eldest brother, Philip Hamilton, was killed in a duel. He had but recently been graduated from Columbia College and lost his life in 1801 on the same spot where, about three years later, his father was killed by Aaron Burr. This dreadful event affected her so deeply that her mind became unbalanced, and she was finally placed in an asylum, where she died at a very advanced age. Mrs. Hamilton lived in Washington, D.C., in one of the De Menou buildings on H Street, between Thirteenth and Fourteenth Streets, and Mrs. Holly resided in the same city until her death.

Tragedy seemed to pursue the Hamilton family with unrelenting perseverance until the third generation. In 1858 the legislature of Virginia, desiring that every native President should repose upon Virginia soil, made an appropriation for removing the remains of James Monroe from New York to Richmond. He died on the 4th of July, 1831, while temporarily residing in New York with his daughter, Mrs. Samuel L. Gouverneur, and his body was placed in the Gouverneur vault in the Marble Cemetery on Second Street, east of Second Avenue, where it remained for nearly thirty years. The disinterment of the remains of this distinguished statesman was conducted with much pomp and ceremony and the body placed on board of the steamer Jamestown and conveyed to Richmond, accompanied all the way by the 7th Regiment of New York which acted as a guard of honor. The orator of the occasion was John Cochrane, a distinguished member of the New York bar; while Henry A. Wise, then Governor of Virginia, delivered an appropriate address at the grave in Hollywood Cemetery in Richmond. My husband, Samuel L. Gouverneur, junior, Monroe's grandson, accompanied the remains as the representative of the family. After the ceremonies in Richmond were completed, but before the 7th Regiment had embarked upon its homeward voyage, one of its members, Laurens Hamilton, a grandson of Alexander Hamilton and a son of John C. Hamilton, was drowned near Richmond. All the proceedings connected with the removal of Mr. Monroe's remains, both in New York and in Richmond, were published some years later by Udolpho Wolfe, a neighbor and admirer of the late President. A copy of the book was presented to each member of the 7th Regiment and one of them was also given by the compiler to my husband. A few years later this same New York regiment invaded Virginia, but under greatly different circumstances. A terrible civil war was raging, and the Old Dominion for a time was its principal battle ground.

I recall an amusing anecdote which Mr. Gouverneur told me upon his return from this visit to Richmond. While the great concourse of people was still assembled at Monroe's grave in Hollywood Cemetery, Governor Henry A. Wise, always proud of his State, remarked: "Now we must have all the native Presidents of Virginia buried within this inclosure." Immediately a vigorous hand was placed on his shoulder by a New York alderman who had accompanied the funeral cortege, who exclaimed in characteristic Bowery vernacular: "Go ahead, Governor, you'll fotch 'em."

The only mode of travel on the Hudson River in my early days was by boat. One of my recollections is seeing Captain Vanderbilt in command of a steamboat. I have heard older members of my family say that he designated himself "Captain Wanderbilt," and that his faithful wife's endearing mode of accosting him was "Corneil." At any rate, it is well-known that he began life by operating a rowboat ferry between Staten Island and New York. In later years a sailboat was substituted over this same route. The Hudson River Railroad was originally built under the direction of a number of prominent men in the State who were anything but skilled in such enterprises. In the beginning of its career, while high officials bestowed fat offices upon friends and relatives, its finances were in a chaotic condition. It was during this state of affairs that Commodore Vanderbilt, with a master mind, grasped the situation and reorganized the whole system, thereby greatly increasing his own fortune, and placing the railroad upon a sound financial basis. After such a remarkable career "blindness to the future" seems unkindly given, as doubtless it would have been a source of great satisfaction to this Vanderbilt progenitor could he have known before passing onward that his hard-earned wealth would eventually enrich his descendants, even the representatives of nobility.

I have before me an invitation to a New York Assembly, dated the 29th of January, 1841, addressed to my father and mother, which has followed my wanderings through seventy years. All of the managers, a list of whom I give, were representative citizens as well as prominent society men of the day:

Abm. Schermerhorn, J. Swift Livingston, Edmd. Pendleton, Jacob R. LeRoy, James W. Otis, Thos. W. Ludlow, Wm. Douglas, Chas. McEvers, Jr., Henry Delafield, William S. Miller, Henry W. Hicks, Charles C. King.

Abraham Schermerhorn belonged to a wealthy New York family, and Edmund Pendleton was a Virginian by birth who resided in New York where he became socially prominent. James W. Otis was of the Harrison Gray Otis family of Boston and, as I have already stated, I was at school with his daughter, Sally. William Douglas was a bachelor living in an attractive residence on Park Place, where he occasionally entertained his friends. He belonged to a thrifty family of Scotch descent and had two sisters, Mrs. Douglas Cruger and Mrs. James Monroe, whose husband was a namesake and nephew of the ex-President. Early in the last century their mother, Mrs. George Douglas, gave a ball, and I insert some doggerel with reference to it written by Miss Anne Macmaster, who later became Mrs. Charles Russell Codman of Boston. These verses are interesting from the fact that they give the names of many of the belles and beaux of that time:

I meant, my dear Fanny, to give you a call And tell you the news of the Douglases ball; But the weather's so bad,—I've a cold in my head,— And I daren't venture out; so I send you instead A poetic epistle—for plain humble prose Is not worthy the joys of this ball to disclose. To begin with our entrance, we came in at nine, The two rooms below were prodigiously fine, And the coup d'oeil was shewy and brilliant 'tis true, Pretty faces not wanting, some old and some new. But, oh! my dear cousin, no words can describe The excess of the crowd—like two swarms in one hive. The squeezing and panting, the blowing and puffing, The smashing, the crushing, the snatching, the stuffing, I'd have given my new dress, at one time, I declare, (The white satin and roses), for one breath of air! But oh! how full often I inwardly sighed O'er the wreck of those roses, so lately my pride; Those roses, my own bands so carefully placed, As I fondly believed, with such exquisite taste. Then to see them so cruelly torn and destroyed I assure you, my dear, I was vastly annoyed. The ballroom with garlands was prettily drest, But a small room for dancing it must be confess'd, If you chanc'd to get in you were lucky no doubt, But oh! luckier far, if you chanced to get out! And pray who were there? Is the question you'll ask. To name the one half would be no easy task— There were Bayards and Clarksons, Van Hornes and LeRoys, All famous, you well know, for making a noise. There were Livingstons, Lenoxes, Henrys and Hoffmans, And Crugers and Carys, Barnewalls and Bronsons, Delanceys and Dyckmans and little De Veaux, Gouverneurs and Goelets and Mr. Picot, And multitudes more that would tire me to reckon, But I must not forget the pretty Miss Whitten. No particular belle claimed the general attention, There were many, however, most worthy of mention. The lily of Leonards' might hold the first place For sweetness of manner, and beauty and grace. Her cousin Eliza and little Miss Gitty Both danc'd very lightly, and looked very pretty. The youngest Miss Mason attracted much notice, So did Susan Le Roy and the English Miss Otis; Of Beaux there were plenty, some new ones 'tis true, But I won't mention names, no, not even to you. I was lucky in getting good partners, however, Above all, the two Emmetts, so lively and clever. With Morris and Maitland I danc'd; and with Sedgwick, Martin Wilkins, young Armstrong and droll William Renwick. The old lady was mightily deck'd for the Ball With Harriet's pearls—and the little one's shawl; But to give her her due she was civil enough, Only tiresome in asking the people to stuff. There was supper at twelve for those who could get it, I came in too late, but I did not regret it, For eating at parties was never my passion, And I'm sorry to see that it's so much the fashion. After supper, for dancing we'd plenty of room, And so pleasant it was, that I did not get home Until three—when the ladies began to look drowsy, The lamps to burn dim, and the Laird to grow boosy. The ball being ended, I've no more to tell— And so, my dear Fanny, I bid you farewell.

In the old pamphlet from which I have already quoted, edited in 1845 by Moses Y. Beach and compiled for the purpose of furnishing information concerning the status of New York citizens to banks, merchants and others, I find the following amusing description of George Douglas: "George Douglas was a Scotch merchant who hoarded closely. His wine cellar was more extensive than his library. When George used to see people speculating and idle it distressed him. He would say: 'People get too many idees in their head. Why don't they work?' What a blessing he is not alive in this moonshine age of dreamy schemings." Mr. Beach apparently was not capable of appreciating a thrifty Scotchman.

This same pamphlet gives an account of a picturesque character whom I distinctly remember as a highly prominent citizen of New York. His parentage was involved in mystery, and has remained so until this day. I refer to Mr. Preserved Fish, the senior member of the firm of Fish, Grinnell & Co., which subsequently became the prominent business house of Grinnell, Minturn & Co. Sustained by the apparel peculiar to infants, he was found floating in the water by some New Bedford fishermen who, unable to discover his identity, bestowed upon him the uncouth name which, willingly or unwillingly, he bore until the day of his death. He and the other members of his firm were originally from New Bedford, one of the chief centers of the whale fisheries of New England, and came to New York to attend to the oil and candle industries of certain merchants of the former city. Few business men in New York in my day were more highly respected for indomitable energy and personal integrity than Mr. Fish. He became President of the Tradesmen's Bank, and held other positions of responsibility and trust. He represented an ideal type of the self-made man, and in spite of an unknown origin and a ridiculous name battled successfully with life without a helping hand.

In connection with the Douglas family, I recall a beautiful wedding reception which, as well as I can remember, took place in the autumn of 1850, at Fanwood, Fort Washington, then a suburb of New York. The bride was Fanny Monroe, a daughter of Colonel James Monroe, U.S.A., and granddaughter of Mrs. Douglas of whose ball I have just spoken. The groom was Douglas Robinson, a native of Scotland. It was a gorgeous autumn day when the votaries of pleasure and fashion in New York drove out to Fanwood, where groomsmen of social prominence stood upon the wide portico to greet the guests and conduct them to the side of the newly married pair. Mrs. Winfield Scott was our guest in Houston Street at the time, but did not accompany us to the wedding as no invitation had reached her. My presence reminded Mrs. Monroe that Mrs. Scott was in New York, and she immediately inquired why I had not brought her with me. As I gave the reason both Colonel and Mrs. Monroe seemed exceedingly annoyed. It seems that her invitation had been sent to Washington but had not been forwarded to her in New York. In those days Mrs. Scott's distinguished presence and sparkling repartee, together with the fact that her husband was Commander-in-Chief of the Army, added luster to every assemblage. The Army was well represented at this reception and it was truly "the feast of reason and the flow of soul." Colonel "Jimmy" Monroe was a great favorite with his former brother-in-arms as he was a genial, whole-souled and hospitable gentleman. My sister Margaret and I were accompanied to Fanwood by an army officer, Colonel Donald Fraser, a bachelor whom I had met some years before at West Point. The paths of the bride and myself diverged, and it was a very long time before we met again. It was only a few years ago, while she was residing temporarily in Washington. She was then, however, a widow and was living in great retirement. She is now deceased.

When we alighted from our carriage the day of the Monroe-Robinson wedding at Fanwood a young man whom I subsequently learned was Mr. Samuel L. Gouverneur, junior, a cousin of the bride, walked over to me, asked my name and in his capacity of groomsman inquired whether I would allow him to present me to the bride. I was particularly impressed by his appearance, as it was unusually attractive. He had raven-black hair, large bluish-gray eyes and regular features; but what added to his charm in my youthful fancy was the fact that he had only recently returned from the Mexican War, in which, as I learned later, he had served with great gallantry in the 4th Artillery. I had never seen him before, although in thinking the matter over a few days later I remembered that I had met his mother and sister in society in New York. I did not see him again until five years later, when our paths crossed in Washington, and in due time I became his bride.

To return to the New York Assembly in 1841. Henry Delafield, whose name appears on the card of invitation, belonged to a well-known family. His father, an Englishman by birth, settled in New York in 1783 and is described in an early city directory as "John Delafield, Insurance Broker, 29 Water Street." The Delafields were a large family of brothers and were highly prosperous. I remember once hearing Dr. John W. Francis say: "Put a Delafield on a desert island in the middle of the ocean, and he will thrive and prosper." Henry Delafield and his brother William were almost inseparable. They were twins and strikingly alike in appearance. General Richard Delafield, U.S.A., for many years Superintendent of the Military Academy at West Point, was another brother, as was also Dr. Edward Delafield, a physician of note, who lived in Bleecker Street and in 1839 married Miss Julia Floyd of Long Island, a granddaughter of William Floyd, one of the New York Signers. About thirty-five years ago three of the Delafield brothers, Joseph, Henry and Edward, all advanced in life, died within a few days of each other and were buried in Greenwood Cemetery at the same time, the funeral taking place from old Trinity Church. On this occasion all the old customs were observed, and the coffins were made of solid mahogany.



John Swift Livingston lived in Leonard Street, and I recall very pleasantly a party which I attended at his house before the marriage of his daughter Estelle to General John Watts de Peyster. The latter, together with his first cousins, General "Phil" Kearny and Mrs. Alexander Macomb, inherited an enormous fortune from his grandfather John Watts, who was one of the most prominent men of his day and the founder of the Leake and Watts Orphan House, which is still in existence. John G. Leake was an Englishman who came to New York to live and, dying without heirs, left his fortune to Robert Watts, a minor son of John Watts. Robert Watts, however, did not long survive his benefactor. Upon his death the Leake will was contested by his relatives, but a decision was rendered in favor of the nearest kin of the boy, who was his father. After gaining his victory John Watts established this Orphan House and with true magnanimity placed Leake's name before his own. Jacob R. LeRoy lived in Greenwich Street near the Battery, which at this time was a fashionable section of the city. His sister Caroline, whom I knew, became the second wife of Daniel Webster. Mr. LeRoy's daughter Charlotte married Rev. Henry de Koven, whose son is the musical genius, Reginald de Koven. Henry W. Hicks was the son of a prominent Quaker merchant and a member of the firm of Hicks & Co., which did an enormous shipping business until its suspension, about 1847, owing to foreign business embarrassments. Thomas W. Ludlow was a wealthy citizen, genial and most hospitably inclined. He owned a handsome country-seat near Tarrytown, and every now and then it was his pleasure to charter a steamboat to convey his guests thither; and I recall several pleasant days I spent in this manner. When we reached the Tarrytown home a fine collation always awaited us and in its wake came music and dancing. Charles McEvers, junior, belonged to an old New York family and was one of the executors of the Vanden Heuvel estate. His niece, Mary McEvers, married Sir Edward Cunard, who was knighted by Queen Victoria. William Starr Miller married a niece of Philip Schuyler, who was a woman possessing many excellent traits of character. As far as I can remember, she was the only divorced person of those days who was well received in society, for people with "past histories" were then regarded with marked disfavor.



CHAPTER VI

SOME DISTINGUISHED ACQUAINTANCES

In close proximity to St. John's Park, during my early life on Hubert Street, there resided a Frenchman named Laurent Salles, and I have a vivid recollection of a notable marriage which was solemnized in his mansion. The groom, Lispenard Stewart, married his daughter, Miss Louise Stephanie Salles, but the young and pretty bride survived her marriage for only a few years. She left two children, one of whom is Mrs. Frederick Graham Lee, whom I occasionally see in Washington, where with her husband she spends her winters.

When playing in St. John's Park in this same neighborhood, I made the acquaintance of Margaret Tillotson Kemble, one of the young daughters of William Kemble already mentioned as living on Beach Street, opposite that Park. Mr. Kemble was the son of Peter Kemble, member of the prominent firm of "Gouverneur and Kemble," shipping merchants of New York, which traded with China and other foreign countries. This firm, the senior members of which were the brothers Nicholas and Isaac Gouverneur, was bound together by a close family tie, as Mrs. Peter Kemble was Gertrude Gouverneur, a sister of the two Gouverneur brothers. My intimacy with Margaret Tillotson Kemble, formed almost from the cradle, lasted without a break throughout life. She was a second cousin of my husband and married Charles J. Nourse, a member of the old Georgetown, D.C., family. The last years of her life were entirely devoted to good works. Her sister, Mary, married Dr. Frederick D. Lente, at one time physician to the West Point foundry, at Cold Spring, N.Y., and subsequently a distinguished general practitioner in New York and Saratoga Springs. Ellen Kemble, the other sister, of whom I have already spoken, never married. She was eminent for her piety, and her whole life was largely devoted to works of charity.

The Kemble house on Beach Street was always a social center and I think I can truthfully say it was more than a second home to me. Mrs. William Kemble, who was Miss Margaret Chatham Seth of Maryland, was a woman of decided social tastes and a most efficient assistant to her husband in dispensing hospitality. Gathered around her hearthstone was a large family of girls and boys who naturally added much brightness to the household. Mr. Kemble was a well-known patron of art and his house became the rendezvous for persons of artistic tastes. It was in his drawing-room that I met William Cullen Bryant; Charles B. King of Washington, whose portraits are so well known; John Gadsby Chapman, who painted the "Baptism of Pocahontas," now in the rotunda of the Capitol at Washington; Asher B. Durand, the celebrated artist; and Mr. Kemble's brother-in-law, James K. Paulding, who at the time was Secretary of the Navy under President Martin Van Buren. Mr. Kemble was one of the founders of the Century Club of New York, a life member of the Academy of Design, and in 1817, at the age of twenty-one, in conjunction with his older brother, Gouverneur Kemble, established the West Point foundry, which for a long period received heavy ordnance contracts from the United States government. The famous Parrott guns were manufactured there. Captain Robert P. Parrott, their inventor and an army officer, married Mary Kemble, a sister of Gouverneur and William Kemble, who in early life was regarded as a beauty. Mr. William Kemble, apart from his artistic tastes, owned a number of fine pictures, among which was a Sappho by a Spanish master. It was given to Mrs. Kemble by the grandfather of the late Rear Admiral Richard W. Meade, U.S.N. When the Kemble family left Beach Street and moved to West Twenty-fifth Street this picture was sold to Gouverneur Kemble for $5,000, and placed in his extensive picture gallery at Cold Spring.

Mrs. William Kemble was a woman of marked ability and an able raconteurse. Early in life she had been left an orphan and was brought up by her maternal uncle, Dr. Thomas Tillotson of the Eastern shore of Maryland, whose wife was Margaret Livingston, a daughter of Judge Robert R. Livingston and a sister of Chancellor Robert R. Livingston. Another sister of Mrs. Tillotson was the widow of General Richard Montgomery, of the Revolutionary War, who fell at the battle of Quebec. The Tillotsons, Livingstons and Montgomerys all owned fine residences near Hyde Park on the Hudson; and a close intimacy existed between the Tillotsons and the Kembles owing to the fact that Mr. Kemble's first cousin, Emily Gouverneur, married Mrs. Kemble's first cousin, Robert Livingston Tillotson. William Kemble's younger brother, Richard Frederick, married Miss Charlotte Morris, daughter of James Morris of Morrisania, N.Y.

The summer home of William Kemble was in a large grove of trees at Cold Spring and life under its roof was indeed an ideal existence. I was their constant guest and although it was a simple life it teemed with beauty and interest. Our days were spent principally out of doors and the sources of amusement were always near at hand. As all of the Kembles were experts with the oar, we frequently spent many hours on the Hudson. Another unfailing source of pleasure was a frequent visit to West Point to witness the evening parade. As we knew many of the cadets they frequently crossed the river to take an informal meal or enjoy an hour's talk on the attractive lawn. Lieutenant Colonel (subsequently General) William J. Hardee, who for a long time was Commandant of Cadets at West Point, I knew quite well. Later in his career he was ordered to Washington, where as a widower he became a social lion, devoting himself chiefly to Isabella Cass, a daughter of General Lewis Cass. His career in the Confederate Army is too well known for me to relate. After the Civil War I never saw him again, as he lived in the South. During one of my visits at the Kembles General Robert E. Lee was the Superintendent of the West Point Military Academy, but of him I shall speak hereafter.

Among the cadets whom I recall are Henry Heth of Virginia, an officer who was subsequently highly esteemed in the Army, and who, at the breaking out of the Civil War, followed the fortunes of his native state and became a Major General in the Confederate Army; Innis N. Palmer, whom I met many years later in Washington when he had attained the rank of General; and Cadet Daniel M. Beltzhoover of Pennsylvania, a musical genius, who was a source of great pleasure to us but whose career I have not followed.

At this period in the history of West Point Cozzen's Hotel was the only hostelry within the military enclosure. A man named Benny Havens kept a store in close proximity to the Military Academy, but as it was not upon government territory no cadet was allowed to enter the premises. Although liquor was his principal stock in trade he kept other articles of merchandise, but only as a cover for his unlawful traffic. The cadets had their weaknesses then as now, and as this shop was "forbidden fruit" many of them visited his resort under the cover of darkness. If caught there "after taps," the punishment was dismissal. The following selections from a dozen verses written by Lieutenant Lucius O'Brien, U.S.A., and others, which I remember hearing the cadets frequently sing, were set to the tune of "Wearing of the Green":

Come, fill your glasses, fellows, and stand up in a row, To singing sentimentally, we're going for to go; In the army there's sobriety, promotion's very slow, So we'll sing our reminiscences of Benny Havens, oh!

Oh, Benny Havens, oh!—oh! Benny Havens oh! So we'll sing our reminiscences of Benny Havens, oh!

* * * * *

Come, fill up to our Generals, God bless the brave heroes, They're an honor to their country and a terror to her foes; May they long rest on their laurels and trouble never know, But live to see a thousand years at Benny Havens, oh!

Here's a health to General Taylor, whose "rough and ready" blow Struck terror to the rancheros of braggart Mexico; May his country ne'er forget his deeds, and ne'er forget to show She holds him worthy of a place at Benny Havens, oh!

To the "veni vidi vici" man, to Scott, the great hero, Fill up the goblet to the brim, let no one shrinking go; May life's cares on his honored head fall light as flakes of snow, And his fair fame be ever great at Benny Havens, oh!

Lieutenant O'Brien died in the winter of 1841 and the following verse to his memory was fittingly added to his song:

From the courts of death and danger from Tampa's deadly shore, There comes a wail of manly grief, "O'Brien is no more," In the land of sun and flowers his head lies pillowed low, No more he'll sing "Petite Coquette" or Benny Havens, oh!

Since then numerous other verses have been added, from time to time, and, for aught I know to the contrary, the composition is still growing. After the death of General Scott in 1866 the following verse was added:

Another star has faded, we miss its brilliant glow, For the veteran Scott has ceased to be a soldier here below; And the country which he honored now feels a heart-felt woe, As we toast his name in reverence at Benny Havens, oh!

I wish that I could recall more of these lines as some of the prominent men of the Army were introduced in the most suggestive fashion. Benny Havens doubtless has been sleeping his last sleep for these many years, but I am sure that some of these verses are still remembered by many of the surviving graduates of West Point.

In the vicinity of William Kemble's cottage at Cold Spring was the permanent home of his older brother, Gouverneur Kemble. For a few years during his earlier life he served as U.S. Consul at Cadiz, under the administration of President Monroe. His Cold Spring home was of historic interest and for many years was the scene of lavish hospitality. General Scott once remarked that he was "the most perfect gentleman in the United States." The most distinguished men of the day gathered around his table, and every Saturday night through the entire year a special dinner was served at five o'clock—Mr. Kemble despised the habitual three o'clock dinners of his neighbors—which in time became historic entertainments. This meal was always served in the picture gallery, an octagonal room filled with valuable paintings, while breakfast and luncheon were served in an adjoining room. All of the professors and many of the officers at West Point, whom Mr. Kemble facetiously termed "the boys," had a standing invitation to these Saturday evening dinners. There was an agreement, however, among the younger officers that too many of them should not partake of his hospitality at the same time, as his dining table would not accommodate more than thirty guests. How well I remember these older men, all of whom were officers in the Regular Army: Professors William H. C. Bartlett, Dennis H. Mahan, the father of Captain Alfred T. Mahan, U.S.N., Albert E. Church, and Robert W. Weir. If by any chance Mr. Kemble, or "Uncle Gouv," as he was generally known to the family connection, was obliged to be absent from home, these entertainments took place just the same, presided over by his sister, Mrs. Robert P. Parrott. Indeed, I recall that during a tour of Europe Mr. Kemble made with ex-President Van Buren these Saturday dinner parties were continued for at least a year.

Carving was considered a fine art in those days, an accomplishment which has largely gone out of style since the introduction of dinner a la Russe. A law existed in Putnam County, in which Cold Spring is situated, which forbade the killing of game during certain months in the year. When a transgressor of this law succeeded in "laying low" a pair of pheasants, they were nicknamed "owls"; and I have seen two "owls" which, under these circumstances, were almost unobtainable, carved in such a proficient manner by "Uncle Gouv" that, although we numbered over a score, each person received a "satisfying" piece. His guests were most appreciative of his hospitality, and I once heard General Scott say that he would be willing to walk at least ten miles to be present at a dinner at Gouverneur Kemble's. His wines were always well selected as well as abundant. I have often known him to have a house party of many guests who had the privilege of remaining indefinitely if they so desired. The actress Fanny Kemble and her father, though not related to the New York family, were guests in his home during one of their visits to America. She was a great pedestrian, and I recall having a small stream of water in the vicinity of Cold Spring called to my notice where, during her rambles, she was known to stop and bathe her feet.

Long before the War of the Revolution, Mr. Kemble's aunt, Margaret Kemble, married General Thomas Gage, Commander-in-Chief of the British forces in that conflict, and resided with him in England. While I was living in Frederick, Maryland, I sent "Uncle Gouv"—he was then an old man and very appreciative of any attention—a photograph of Whittier's heroine, Barbara Frietchie. He in turn sent it to Viscount Henry Gage, a relative of the British General. The English nobleman who was familiar with the Quaker poet seemed highly pleased to own the picture and commented favorably upon the firm expression of the mouth and chin of this celebrated woman.

Army officers were frequently stationed at Cold Spring to inspect the guns cast at the Kemble foundry. Among these I recall with much pleasure Major Alfred Mordecai of the Ordnance Corps. He was a highly efficient officer and previous to the Civil War rendered conspicuous service to his country. He was a Southerner and at the beginning of the war is said to have requested the War Department to order him to some duty which did not involve the killing of his kinsmen. His request was denied and his resignation followed.

In the midst of the Civil War, after a protracted absence from the country in China, I arrived in New York, and one of the first items of news that was told me was that the West Point foundry was casting guns for the Confederacy. I speedily learned that this rumor was altogether unfounded. It seems that some time before the beginning of hostilities the State of Georgia ordered some small rifled cannon from the West Point foundry with the knowledge and consent of the Chief of the Ordnance Department, General Alexander B. Dyer. Colonel William J. Hardee, then Commandant-of-Cadets, was selected to inspect these guns before delivery; but when they were finished the war-cloud had grown to such proportions that Robert P. Parrott, the head of the foundry at the time, Gouverneur Kemble having retired from active business eight or ten years previously, refused to forward them. They lay at the foundry for some time, and were afterwards bought by private parties from New York City and presented to the government, thereby doing active service against the Confederacy. In his interesting book recently published entitled "Retrospections of an Active Life," Mr. John Bigelow refers to this unfortunate rumor. He says: "On the 21st of January, 1861, I met the venerable Professor Weir, of the West Point Military Academy, in the cars on our way to New York, when he told me that Colonel Hardee, then the Commandant-of-Cadets at the Academy, was buying arms for his native state of Georgia, and that the Kembles, whose iron works were across the river from West Point at Cold Spring, were filling a large order for him." I knew Professor Weir very well, and Mr. Bigelow's statement, I think, is a mistake, as all of the professors at West Point were too loyal to Mr. Gouverneur Kemble to allow wild rumors engendered by war to remain uncontradicted.

This seems a fitting place to recall the pleasant friendship I made with General Robert E. Lee long before he became the Southern chieftain. I have already stated that when I visited Cold Spring in other days he was Superintendent of the U.S. Military Academy. He was a constant visitor at the Kembles, and his imposing presence and genial manner are so well known as to render a description of them altogether superfluous. Some years later when I was visiting at the home of General Winfield Scott in Washington I renewed my pleasing friendship with him. There existed between these two eminent soldiers a life-long attachment, and when the Civil War was raging it seemed almost impossible to realize that Scott and Lee represented opposite political views, as hitherto they had always seemed to be so completely in accord.

The Cold Spring colony was decidedly sociable, and a dinner party at one of the many cottages was almost a daily occurrence. Captain and Mrs. Robert P. Parrott entertained most gracefully, and their residence was one of the show-places of that locality. I have heard Captain Parrott facetiously remark that he had "made a loud noise in the world" by the aid of his guns.

The first time I ever saw Washington Irving, with whom I enjoyed an extended friendship, was when he was a guest of Gouverneur Kemble. The intimate social relations existing between these two friends began in early life, and lasted throughout their careers, having been fostered by a frequent interchange of visits. In his earlier life Mr. Kemble inherited from his relative, Nicholas Gouverneur, a fine old estate near Newark, New Jersey, which bore the name of "Mount Pleasant." Washington Irving, however, rechristened the place "Cockloft Hall," and in a vein of mirth dubbed the bachelor-proprietor "The Patroon." Irving described this retreat in his "Salmagundi," and the characters there depicted which have been thought by many to be fanciful creations were in reality Gouverneur Kemble and his many friends. His place was subsequently sold, but the intimacy between the two men continued, and it has always seemed to me that there was much pathos connected with their friendship. Both of them were bachelors and owned homes of more than passing historic interest on the Hudson. Irving called Kemble's residence at Cold Spring "Bachelor's Elysium," while to his own he applied the name of "Wolfert's Roost." In the spring of 1856 in writing to Kemble he said: "I am happy to learn that your lawn is green. I hope it will long continue so, and yourself likewise. I shall come up one of these days and have a roll on it with you"; and Kemble, upon another occasion, in urging Irving to visit him added as an inducement, "come and we will have a game of leap-frog." Referring to their last meeting Irving said of Kemble: "That is my friend of early life—always unchanged, always like a brother, one of the noblest beings that ever was created. His heart is pure gold." That was in the summer of 1859, and in the following November Irving died, at the ripe old age of seventy-six. Constant in life, let us hope that in death they are not separated, and that in the Silent Land

No morrow's mischief knocks them up.

Let the cynic who spurns the consoling influences of friendship ponder upon the life-intimacy of these two old men who, throughout the cares and turmoils of a long and engrossing existence, illustrated so beautifully the charm of such a benign relationship.

Irving impressed me as having a genial but at the same time a retiring nature. He was of about the average height and, although quite advanced in years when I knew him, his hair had not changed color. His manner was exceeding gentle and, strange to say, with such a remarkable vocabulary at his command, in society he was exceedingly quiet. In his early life Irving was engaged to be married to one of his own ethereal kind, but she passed onward, and among his friends the subject was never broached as it seemed too sacred to dwell upon. Her name was Matilda Hoffman and she was a daughter of the celebrated jurist of New York, Judge Josiah Ogden Hoffman. She died in 1809 in her eighteenth year.

My last meeting with Irving is vividly impressed upon my memory as the occasion was quite memorable. I was passing the winter in Washington as the guest of my elder sister, Mrs. Eames, who a few years before had married Charles Eames, Esq., of the Washington Bar. Irving, who was then seventy-two years old, was making a brief visit to the Capital and called to see me. This was in 1855, when William M. Thackeray was on his second visit to this country and delivering his celebrated lectures upon "The Four Georges." I had scarcely welcomed Mr. Irving into my sister's drawing-room when Thackeray was announced, and I introduced the two famous but totally dissimilar men to each other. Thackeray was a man of powerful build and a very direct manner, but to my mind was not an individual to be overpowered by sentiment. I can not remember after the flight of so many years the nature of the conversation between Irving and Thackeray apart from the mutual interchange that ordinarily passes between strangers when casually presented.

Later I had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Thackeray quite a number of times during his sojourn in Washington where he was much lionized in society. One evening we were all gathered around the family tea table when he chanced to call and join us in that cup which is said to cheer. He entered into conversation with much enthusiasm, especially when he referred to his children. He seemed to have a special admiration for a young daughter of his, and related many pleasing anecdotes of her juvenile aptitude. I think he referred to Anne Isabella Thackeray (Lady Richie), who gave to the public a biographical edition of her father's famous works. I remember we drifted into a conversation upon a recently published novel, but the title of the book and its author I do not recall. At any rate, he was discussing its heroine, who, under some extraordinary stress of circumstances, was forced to walk many miles in her stocking-feet to obtain succor, and the whole story was thrilling in the extreme; whereupon the author of "Vanity Fair" exclaimed, "She was shoeicidal." Although he was an Englishman, he was not averse to a pun—even a poor one! I remember asking Mr. Thackeray whether during his visit to New York he had met Mrs. De Witt Clinton. His response was characteristic: "Yes, and she is a gay old girl!"

James K. Paulding, the distinguished author who married the sister of Gouverneur and William Kemble and lived at Hyde Park, farther up the Hudson, frequently formed one of the pleasant coterie that gathered around "Uncle Gouv's" board. "The Sage of Lindenwald," as ex-President Martin Van Buren was frequently called by both friend and foe, also repeatedly came from his home in Kinderhook to dine with Mr. Kemble, and these memories call to mind a dinner I attended at "Uncle Gouv's" when Mr. Van Buren was the principal guest. Although it was many years after his retirement from the presidential office, the impression he made upon me was that of a quiet, deliberate old gentleman, who continued to be well versed in the affairs of state.

A short distance from Cold Spring is Garrison's, where many wealthy New Yorkers have their country seats. Putnam County, in which both Garrison's and Cold Spring are located, was once a portion of Philipse Manor. The house in the "Upper Manor," as this tract of land was called, was The Grange, but over forty years ago it was burned to the ground. It was originally built by Captain Frederick Philips about 1800, and was the scene of much festivity. The Philipses were tories during the Revolution, and it is said that this property would doubtless have been confiscated by the government but for the fact that Mary Philips, who was Captain Frederick Philips' only child, was a minor at the close of the war in 1783. Mary Philips, whose descendants have spelled the name with a final e, married Samuel Gouverneur, and their eldest son, Frederick Philipse Gouverneur, dropped the name Gouverneur as a surname and assumed that of Philipse in order to inherit a large landed estate of which The Grange was a conspicuous part.

When I first visited Garrison's the Philipse family was living at The Grange in great elegance. Frederick Philipse was then a bachelor and his maiden sister, Mary Marston Gouverneur, presided over his establishment. Another sister, Margaret Philipse Gouverneur, married William Moore, a son of the beloved physician, Dr. William Moore of New York, a nephew of President Benjamin Moore of Columbia College and a first cousin of Clement C. Moore who wrote the oft quoted verses, "'Twas the Night before Christmas," which have delighted the hearts of American children for so many decades.

Frederick Philipse subsequently married Catharine Wadsworth Post, a member of a prominent family of New York. It was while Mr. and Mrs. Philipse were visiting her relatives that The Grange was destroyed by fire. Miss Mary Marston Gouverneur had ordered the chimneys cleaned, in the manner then prevalent, by making a fire in the chimney place on the first floor, in order to burn out the debris. The flames fortunately broke out on the top story, thus enabling members of the family to save many valuable heirlooms in the lower apartments. Among the paintings rescued and now in the possession of Frederick Philipse's daughters, the Misses Catharine Wadsworth Philipse and Margaret Gouverneur Philipse of New York, was the portrait of the pretty Mary Philipse, Washington's first love. Tradition states she refused his offer of marriage to become the bride of Roger Morris, an officer in the British Army. It is generally believed that she was the heroine of Cooper's "Spy;" but she had then laid aside the belleship of early youth and had become the intellectual matron of after years. Some of the other portraits rescued were those of Adolphus Philipse, second son of the first Lord of the Manor; Philip Philipse, and his wife, Margaret Marston, whose second husband was the Rev. John Ogilvie, for many years assistant minister of Trinity Church of New York; Margaret Philipse, younger sister of Mary, who married Roger Morris; Captain Frederick Philips, by Gilbert Stuart; Mrs. Samuel Gouverneur; Nathaniel Marston and his wife, Mary Crooke; and Mrs. Abraham Gouverneur who was the daughter of Jacob Leisler, at one time the Acting Governor of the Province of New York.

One visit I made to the Philipses at Garrison's is especially fresh in my memory, as Eleanor Jones Duer, a daughter of President William A. Duer of Columbia College, who subsequently married George T. Wilson of Georgia, was their guest at the same time. She was a woman of much culture and refinement, and in every way a delightful companion. A great intimacy existed for many years between the Gouverneurs and Philipses of Garrison's and the Duer family of New York. The Philipses, who at this time lived very much in the old-fashioned style, were the last of the old families with which I was familiar to have the cloth removed after the dessert was served; and in doing this an elegant mahogany table always kept in a highly polished condition was displayed. Upon it were placed the fruits, nuts and wine. Another custom in the Philipse family which, as far as I know, was unique in this country was that of having four meals a day. Breakfast was served at eight, luncheon at one, dinner at six and supper at nine o'clock.

During another visit I made at The Grange I had the pleasure of meeting Mr. and Mrs. Henry Sheaffe Hoyt (Frances Maria Duer), who were house guests there and who had just returned from an extended European tour. She was another daughter of President Duer of Columbia College and died not long ago in Newport, R.I., at a very advanced age. Mrs. John King Van Rensselaer, a daughter of Mrs. Archibald Gracie King (Elizabeth Denning Duer), is her niece.

Before leaving the banks of the Hudson River I must speak of my former associations with Newburgh. From my earliest life we children were in the habit of making frequent visits to my mother's relatives, the Roe family, who resided there. We all eagerly looked forward to these trips up the Hudson which were made upon the old Thomas Powell and later upon the Mary Powell. My mother's relative, Maria Hazard, married William Roe, one of the most highly respected and prosperous citizens of Newburgh. They lived in a stately mansion surrounded by several acres of land in the heart of the city. Mrs. Roe was a remarkable woman. I knew her only as an elderly matron; but, like women of advanced age in China, where I spent a number of years of my early married life, she controlled everyone who came within her "sphere of influence." I remember, for example, that upon one occasion when I was visiting her, Thomas Hazard Roe, her elder son, who at the time was over sixty years of age and a bachelor and who desired to go upon some hunting expedition, said to her: "Mother, have I your permission to go to the Adirondacks?" She thought for a few moments and replied: "Well, Hazard, I think you might go."

About the year 1840 Newburgh was recommended by two of the earliest prominent homeopathic physicians of New York City, Doctors John F. Gray and Amos G. Hull, as a locality well-adapted to people affected with delicate lungs, and upon their advice many families built handsome residences there. In my early recollection Newburgh had a fine hotel called the Powelton, which bade fair to become a prominent resort for New Yorkers. In the zenith of its prosperity, however, it was burned to the ground and was never rebuilt. I hardly think that anyone will have the assurance to dispute the healthfulness of this place when I state that my cousin, Thomas Hazard Roe, of whom I have just spoken, died there in 1907 after having more than rounded a full century of years. He was in many ways a remarkable man with a mind well stored with knowledge, and he retained all of his mental faculties unclouded until the end of his life. His sister, Mary Elizabeth, the widow of the late William C. Hasbrouck, a prominent Newburgh lawyer and a few years his junior, also died quite recently in Newburgh at the age of ninety-seven. Her son, General Henry C. Hasbrouck, U.S.A., also died but a short time since, but her daughter, Miss Maria Hasbrouck, whose whole life has been devoted to her family, still resides in the old homestead. The third and youngest member of this interesting trio, Miss Emily Maria Roe, is now living in Newburgh at an advanced age, surrounded by a large connection and beloved by everyone.

One of the most prominent families in Newburgh in years gone by was that of Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Powell, from whom the celebrated river boats were named. Mrs. Powell's maiden name was Mary Ludlow, and she belonged to a well-known New York family. Her brother, Lieutenant Augustus C. Ludlow, who was second in command on board the Chesapeake, under Captain James Lawrence of "Don't give up the ship" fame, is buried by the latter's side in old Trinity church-yard in New York. Mrs. Powell took great pride and pleasure in the boat named in her honor, the Mary Powell, and I have frequently seen her upon my trips up the Hudson, sitting upon the deck of her namesake and chatting pleasantly with those around her.

Newburgh was also the home of Andrew Jackson Downing, the author of "Landscape Gardening," "Cottage Residences," and other similar works. I received my first knowledge of horticulture from a visit I made to his beautiful residence, which was surrounded by several acres. It was my earliest view of nature assisted by art, and to my untutored eye his lawn was a veritable Paradise. Some years later, when I was visiting the Scotts in Washington, Mr. Downing called and during our conversation told me that he had come to the Capital, upon the invitation of the government, to lay out the Smithsonian grounds. His wife was Miss Caroline De Wint of Fishkill, New York, a granddaughter of Mrs. Henry William Smith (Abigail Adams), the only daughter of President John Adams who reached maturity. After spending some months in Washington, Mr. Downing was returning to his Newburgh home when the Henry Clay, a Hudson River steamboat upon which he had taken passage, was destroyed by fire and he perished while attempting to rescue some of the passengers. This was in 1852.

There are some persons still living who will readily recall, in connection with social functions, the not uncommon name of Brown. The particular Brown to whom I refer was the sexton of Grace Episcopal Church, on the corner of Broadway and Tenth Street, where many of the soi-disant creme de la creme worshiped. He must have possessed a christian name, but if so I never heard it for he was only plain Brown, and Brown he was called. He was born before the days when spurious genealogical charts are thrust at one, nolens volens; but probably this was lucky for him and the public was spared much that is uninteresting. In connection with his duties at Grace Church he came in contact with many fashionable people, and was enabled to add materially to his rather small income by calling carriages from the doorsteps for the society folk of the great metropolis. In this and other ways his pursuits gradually became so varied that in time he might have been safely classed among the dilettanti. The most remarkable feature of his career, however, was the fact that, in spite of his humble calling, he became a veritable social dictator, and many an ambitious mother with a thousand-dollar ball upon her hands (this being about the usual sum spent upon an evening entertainment at that time), lacked the courage to embark upon such a venture without first seeking an interview with Brown. I knew but little about his powers of discrimination, as we as a family never found his services necessary, but when requested I know he furnished to these dependent hostesses lists of eligible young men whom he deemed proficient in the polka and mazurka, the fashionable dances of the day. Strange as it may appear, I can vouch for the truth of the statement that many an exclusive hostess was glad to avail herself of these lists of the accommodating Brown. The dances just mentioned were, by the way, introduced into this country by Pierro Saracco, an Italian master who taught me to dance, and who was quite popular in the fashionable circles of his day. Many years later, when I was residing in Maryland, he came to Frederick several times a week and gave dancing lessons to my two older daughters.

Brown was a pleasant, genial, decidedly "hail-fellow-well-met" man, as I remember him, and was in a way the precursor of Ward McAllister, though of course on a decidedly more unpretentious plane. One cannot but express surprise at the consideration with which Brown's proteges were treated by the elite, nor can one deny that the social destinies of many young men were the direct result of his strenuous efforts. I remember, for example, one of these who at the time was "a youth to fortune and to fame unknown," whom Brown took under his sheltering wing and whose subsequent social career was shaped by him. He is of foreign birth, with a pleasing exterior and address and, through the instrumentality of his humble friend who gave him his first start, is to-day, although advanced in life, one of the most conspicuous financiers in New York, and occasionally has private audiences with presidents and other magnates. Moreover, I feel certain that he will welcome this humble tribute to his benefactor with much delight, as the halo which now surrounds his brow he owes in a large degree to his early introduction into the smart set by the sexton of Grace Church. The last I ever heard of Brown, he visited Europe. After his return from his well-earned holiday he died and was laid to rest in his own native soil. Peace to Brown's ashes—his work was well done! It cannot be said of him, as of many others, that he lived in vain, as he was doubtless the forerunner of the later and more accomplished leader and dictator of New York's "Four Hundred."

A poetaster paid him the following facetious tribute:

Oh, glorious Brown, thou medley strange Of churchyard, ballroom, saint, and sinner, Flying by morn through fashion's range And burying mortals after dinner. Walking one day with invitations, Passing the next at consecrations, Tossing the sod at eve on coffins, With one hand drying tears of orphans, And one unclasping ballroom carriage, Or cutting plumcake up for marriage; Dusting by day the pew and missal, Sounding by night the ballroom whistle, Admitted free through fashion's wicket, And skilled at psalms, at punch, and cricket.

An amusing anecdote is told of Brown's financial protege whose name I have withheld. When he was still somewhat uncertain of his social status he received an invitation to a fancy ball given by a fashionable matron. This recognition he regarded as a conspicuous social triumph, and in his desire to do the proper thing he sought William R. Travers—"Bill Travers," as he was generally called—to ask his advice in regard to the proper costume for him to wear. The inquiring social aspirant had a head well-denuded of hair, and Mr. Travers, after a moment's hesitation, wittingly replied: "Sugarcoat your head and go as a pill!"

Though not a professional wit, Brown was at least capable of making a pun quite equal to those inflicted upon society by some of his superiors. As sexton of Grace Church, he officiated at the wedding of Miss Phoebe Lord, a daughter of Daniel Lord, whose marriage to Henry Day, a rising young lawyer, was solemnized in this edifice. At the close of the reception following the marriage ceremony someone laughingly called upon Brown for a toast. He was equal to the occasion as he quickly replied: "This is the Lord's Day!"



CHAPTER VII

FASHION AND LETTERS

One of the show places of New York State, many years ago, was the residence of John Greig, a polished Scotch gentleman who presided with dignity over his princely estate in Canandaigua in central New York, and there dispensed a generous hospitality. Mr. Greig was the agent for some of the English nobility, many of whom owned extensive tracts of land in America. The village of Canandaigua was also the home of the Honorable Francis Granger, a son of Gideon Granger, Postmaster General under Jefferson and Madison. Francis Granger was the Postmaster General for a brief period under President William Henry Harrison, but the latter died soon after his inauguration and his successor did not retain him in his cabinet. It is said of Francis Granger that he was a firm believer in the words of ex-Governor William L. Marcy in the United States Senate in 1832 that "to the victors belong the spoils of the enemy," and that during his month of cabinet service eighteen hundred employees in his department were dismissed. The Democrats evidently thought that "turn about was fair play," as a few years later, under President Polk, the work of decapitation was equally active. Ransom H. Gillett, Register of the Treasury at that time, became so famous at head-chopping, that he was soon nicknamed "Guillotine."

Mr. Granger, with his fine physique and engaging manner (he was often called "the handsome Frank Granger"), was well adapted to the requirements of social life and especially to those of the National Capital, where the beaux esprits usually congregated. His only daughter, Adele Granger, often called "the witty Miss Granger," was at school at Madame Chegaray's with my elder sister Fanny, and in my earlier life was frequently a guest in our Houston Street home, prior to her sojourn in Washington, where her father for many years represented his district in Congress. We looked forward to her visits as one anticipates with delight a ray of sunshine. She was always assured of the heartiest of welcomes in Washington, where she was the center of a bright and intellectual circle. She finally married Mr. John E. Thayer, a Boston capitalist, and after his death became the wife of the Hon. Robert C. Winthrop of the same city. She presided with grace over a summer home in Brookline and a winter residence in Boston, at both of which she received hosts of distinguished guests. To illustrate the importance with which she was regarded, one of her guests remarked to me, during one of my visits at the Brookline home, that Mrs. Winthrop was more than one woman—that in that locality she was considered an "institution." In the latter part of Mr. Winthrop's life I received a very graceful note from him enclosing the following ode written by him in honor of the golden jubilee of Queen Victoria:

BOSTON, MASS. 90 Marlborough Street, 20 Feb'y 1888.

Dear Mrs. Gouverneur:

Your kind note and the pamphlet reached me this morning. I thank you for them both.

I have lost no time in hunting up a spare copy of my little Ode on the Queen's Jubilee.

I threw it into a newspaper with not a little misgiving. I certainly did not dream that it would be asked for by a lady seven or eight months after its date. I appreciate the compliment.

Yours truly,

ROBT. C. WINTHROP.

Mrs. M. Gouverneur.

ODE.

Not as our Empress do we come to greet thee, Augusta Victoria, On this auspicious Jubilee: Wide as old England's realms extend, O'er earth and sea,— Her flag in every clime unfurled, Her morning drum-beat compassing the world,— Yet here her sway Imperial finds an end, In our loved land of Liberty!

Nor is it as our Queen for us to hail thee, Excellent Majesty, On this auspicious Jubilee: Long, long ago our patriot fathers broke The tie which bound us to a foreign yoke, And made us free; Subjects thenceforward of ourselves alone, We pay no homage to an earthly throne,— Only to God we bend the knee!

Still, still, to-day and here, thou hast a part, Illustrious Lady, In every honest Anglo-Saxon heart, Albeit untrained to notes of loyalty: As lovers of our old ancestral race,— In reverence for the goodness and the grace Which lends thy fifty years of Royalty A monumental glory on the Historic page, Emblazoning them forever as the Victorian Age;

For all the virtue, faith and fortitude, The piety and truth Which mark thy noble womanhood, As erst thy golden youth,— We also would do honor to thy name, Joining our distant voices to the loud acclaim Which rings o'er earth and sea, In attestation of the just renown Thy reign has added to the British Crown!

Meanwhile no swelling sounds of exultation Can banish from our memory, On this auspicious Jubilee, A saintly figure standing at thy side, The cherished consort of thy power and pride, Through weary years the subject of thy tears, And mourned in every nation,— Whose latest words a wrong to us withstood, The friend of peace,—Albert, the Wise and Good!

Boston, June, 1887. ROBERT C. WINTHROP.

At Geneseo, in the beautiful Genesee Valley, and a few miles from Canandaigua, in one of the most fertile portions of the State of New York, resided a contemporary and friend of Mrs. Robert C. Winthrop, Miss Elizabeth Wadsworth, a daughter of James Wadsworth, a well-known philanthropist and one of the wealthiest landed proprietors in the state. He was also the father of Major General James S. Wadsworth, a defeated candidate for Governor of New York, who was killed in 1864 at the battle of the Wilderness. Miss Wadsworth was celebrated for her grace of manner. I had the pleasure of knowing her quite well in New York, where she generally passed her winters. Quite early in life and before the period when the fair daughters of America had discovered, to any great extent, the advantages of matrimonial alliances with foreign partis, she married the Honorable Charles Augustus Murray, a member of the English Parliament and of a Scotch family, the head of which was the Earl of Dunmore. She lived but a few years, and died in Egypt, where her husband was Consul General, leaving a young son. Her husband's ancestor, John Murray, Lord Dunmore, was the last Colonial Governor of Virginia. It has been asserted that but few, if any, Colonial Governors, not even the sportive Lord Cornbury of New York who, upon state occasions, dressed himself up in female attire in compliment to his royal cousin, Queen Anne, had quite as eventful a career. Lord Dunmore originally came to America as Governor of the Province of New York, but was subsequently transferred to Virginia. While in New York he was made President of the St. Andrew's Society, a Scotch organization which had been in existence about twenty years and whose first President was Philip Livingston, the Signer. In an old New York directory of 1798 I find the following names of officers of this society for the preceding year: Walter Ruturfurde (sic), President; Peter M'Dougall and George Turnbull, Vice Presidents; George Douglass, Treasurer; George Johnson, Secretary; John Munro, Assistant Secretary; the Rev. John M. Mason and the Rev. John Bisset, Chaplains; Dr. James Tillary, Physician; and William Renwick, James Stuart, John Knox, Alexander Thomson, Andrew D. Barclay, and John M'Gregor, Managers.

It was not at all flattering to the pride of Virginia that Lord Dunmore lingered so long in New York after his order of transfer to the Old Dominion. He also greatly incurred the displeasure of the Virginians by occasionally dissolving their Assembly, and they found him generally inimical to their interests. Finally matters were brought to an issue, and Dunmore, in defense of his conduct, issued a proclamation against "a certain Patrick Henry and his deluded followers." His final act was the burning of Norfolk in 1776, which at that time was the most flourishing city in Virginia. During Lord Dunmore's life in Colonial Virginia, a daughter was born to him and at the request of the Assembly was named "Virginia." It is said that subsequently a provision was made by the Provincial Legislature, by virtue of which she was to receive a very large sum of money when she became of age. Meanwhile, the War of the Revolution severed the yoke of Great Britain, and Lord Dunmore returned to England with his family. Time passed and the little girl born in the Virginia colony grew into womanhood. Her father had died and as her circumstances became contracted she addressed a letter to Thomas Jefferson, then President of the United States, under the impression that he was Governor of Virginia. Jefferson sent the letter to James Monroe, who was then Governor of Virginia, and he in turn referred it to the Legislature of that State. This letter is now in my possession and is as follows:

Sir:

I am at a loss how to begin a letter in which I am desirous of stating claims that many long years have been forgotten, but which I think no time can really annihilate until fulfilment has followed the promise. I imagine that you must have heard that during my father Dunmore's residence in America I was born and that the Assembly, then sitting at Williamsburg, requested that I might be their God-daughter and christened by the name of Virginia; which request being complied with, they purposed providing for me in a manner suitable to the honor they conferred upon me and to the responsibility they had taken on themselves. I was accordingly christened as the God-daughter of that Assembly and named after the State. Events have since occurred which in some measure may have altered the intentions then expressed in my favor. These were (so I have understood) that a sum of money should be settled upon me which, accumulating during my minority, would make up the sum of one hundred thousand pounds when I became of age. It is true many changes may have taken place in America, but that fact still remains the same. I am still the God-daughter of the Virginians. By being that, may I not flatter myself I have some claims upon their benevolence if not upon their justice? May I not ask that State, especially you, sir, their Governor, to fulfil in some respects the engagements entered into by their predecessors? Your fathers promised mine that I should become their charge. I am totally unprovided for; for my father died without making a will. My brothers are married, having families of their own; and not being bound to do anything for me, they regard with indifference my unprotected and neglected situation. Perhaps I ought not to mention this circumstance as a proper inducement for you to act upon; nor would I, were it not my excuse for wishing to remind you of the claims I now advance. I hope you will feel my right to your favor and protection to be founded on the promises made by your own fathers, and in the situation in which I stand with regard to the State of Virginia. You will ask, sir, why my appeal to your generosity and justice has been so tardy. While my father lived, I lived under his protection and guidance. He had incurred the displeasure of the Virginians and he feared an application from me would have seemed like one from him. At his decease I became a free agent. I had taken no part which could displease my God-fathers, and myself remained what the Assembly had made me—their God-daughter, consequently their charge. I wish particularly to enforce my dependence upon your bounty; for I feel hopes revive, which owe their birth to your honor and generosity, and to that of the State whose representative I now address. Now that my father is no more, I am certain they and you will remember what merited your esteem in his character and conduct and forget that which estranged your hearts from so honorable a man. But should you not, you are too just to visit what you deem the sins of the father upon his luckless daughter.

I am, sir, your obt. etc.

In 1831 the small but pretty Gramercy Park in New York was established by Samuel B. Ruggles. I have heard that this plot of ground was originally used as a burying ground by Trinity parish. As I first recollect the spot, there were but four or five dwellings in its vicinity. One of the earliest was built by James W. Gerard, a prominent lawyer, who was regarded as a most venturesome pioneer to establish his residence in such a remote locality. Next door to Mr. Gerard, a few years later, lived George Belden, whose daughter Julia married Frederick S. Tallmadge. Mr. Tallmadge died only a few years ago, highly respected and esteemed by a large circle of friends.