five thousand persons, and their residences were scattered over an immense space. Society presented a novel aspect; unconnected by similarity of habits, by established fashions, by the ties of acquaintance or consanguinity, the motley throng became united into one close and intimate circle by a feeling common to all; they were strangers in a strange land, and felt the necessity of mutual aid and accommodation, and might be compared to a beautiful piece of mosaic, in which an infinity of separate pieces of diversified colors are blended into one harmonious whole. Mr. Jefferson, many years after his retirement from public life, recurring to that time, remarked to a friend that the peculiar felicity of his administration was the unanimity that prevailed in his Cabinet; "we were," said he, "like one family." The same spirit of union and kindness pervaded the whole circle of society-a circle, at that time very limited in its extent and very simple in its habits. The most friendly and social intercourse prevailed through all its parts, unshackled by that etiquette and ceremony which have since been introduced, to the no small detriment of social enjoyment. The President's house was the seat of hospitality, where Mrs. Madison always presided (in the absence of Mr. Jefferson's daughters) when there were female guests. Mrs. Madison and her husband spent three weeks at the White House after their arrival in the city, until they could make arrangements to obtain a suitable house. "A circumstance is remembered" (says Jefferson's biographer) "attending the abolition of levees, which provokes a smile. Some

persons in Washington, principally ladies, we believe, had come to the conclusion that the abolition was inexpedient; and they made up their minds to muster ⚫in force at the Presidential Mansion at the usual time. They accordingly did so. The President was out riding on horseback, but soon returned. Learning the extraordinary number of ladies that had called, and at once guessing the motive of the visit, he went immediately, hat in hand, spurs on, and soiled with dust, into their midst. He expressed himself overjoyed at such a happy coincidence. Never had he been seen so cordial and attentive. He allowed no one to go without urging her longer stay. The fair visitors finally departed, laughing heartily at each other and the result of their experience. They never repeated it."

In March, 1802, Mr. Jefferson wrote to his youngest daughter that he would be at home between the 15th and 20th of April, and that he wished her to be prepared to go back to Washington with him and her sister; but Congress did not adjourn as he expected, and he did not get off until the first of May. The measles broke out in the family of Mrs. Randolph, and she did not go to Washington. The same cause preprevented Mrs. Eppes from seeing her father, but during the summer months he was at Monticello as usual.

From the letters of Mr. Jefferson of November and December to his youngest daughter, we find him advising her to have good spirits and profit by her sister's cheerfulness. "We are all well here," he says,

"and hope the post of this evening will bring us information of the health of all at Edgehill, and particularly that Martha and the new bantling are both well; and that her example gives you good spirits." "Take care of yourself, my dearest Maria, and know that courage is as essential to triumph in your case as in that of a soldier. * * Not knowing the time destined for your expected indisposition, I am anxious on your account. You are prepared to meet it with courage, I hope." And again he writes:

"WASHINGTON, March 3, 1804.

"The account of your illness, my dearest Maria, was known to me only this morning. Nothing but the impossibility of Congress proceeding a single step in my absence, presents an insuperable bar. Mr. Eppes goes off, and, I hope, will find you in a convalescent state. Next to the desire that it may be so, is that of being speedily informed and of being relieved from the terrible anxiety in which I shall be till I hear from you. God bless you, my ever dear daughter, and preserve you safe to the blessing of us all."

But she was not preserved, frail and sensitive, her nervous system gave way, and she never rallied after her confinement. She died on the 17th of April, between 8 and 9 A. M. The following letter in connection with this subject is replete with interest. It was written by a daughter of Mrs. Randolph's to Mr. Randall, in 1856:

"I find an old memorandum, made many years ago,

I know not when nor under what circumstances, but by my own hand, in the fly-leaf of a Bible. It is to this effect:-Maria Jefferson was born in 1778, and married in 1797, John Wayles Eppes, son of Francis Eppes and Elizabeth Wayles, second daughter of John Wayles. Maria Jefferson died April, 1804, leaving two children, Francis, born in 1801, and Maria who died an infant.

"I have no recollection of the time when I made this memorandum, but I have no doubt of its accuracy.

"Mrs. Eppes was never well after the birth of her last child. She lingered a while, but never recovered. My grandfather was in Washington, and my aunt passed the winter at Edgehill, where she was confined. I remember the tender and devoted care of my mother, how she watched over her sister, and with what anxious affection she anticipated her every want. I remember, at one time, that she left her chamber and her own infant, that she might sleep in my aunt's room, to assist in taking care of her and her child. I well recollect my poor aunt's pale, faded, and feeble look. My grandfather, during his Presidency, made two visits every year to Monticello, a short one in early spring, and a longer one the latter part of the summer. He always stopped at Edgehill, where my mother was then living, to take her and the whole family to Monticello with him. He came this year as usual, anxious about the health of his youngest daughter, whose situation, though such as to excite the apprehension of her friends, was not deemed one of im

mediate danger. She had been delicate and something of an invalid, if I remember right, for some years. She was carried to Monticello in a litter borne by men. The distance was perhaps four miles, and she bore the removal well. After this, however, she continued as before steadily to decline. She was taken out when the weather permitted, and carried around the lawn in a carriage, I think drawn by men, and I remember following the carriage over the smooth green turf. How long she lived I do not recollect, but it could have been but a short time. One morning I heard that my aunt was dying; I crept softly from my nur sery to her chamber door, and being alarmed by her short, hard breathing, ran away again. I have a distinct recollection of confusion and dismay in the household. I did not see my mother. By-and-by one of the female servants came running in where I was with other persons, to say that Mrs. Eppes was dead. The day passed I do not know how. Late in the afternoon I was taken to the death chamber. The body was covered with a white cloth, over which had been strewn a profusion of flowers. A day or two after, I followed the coffin to the burying-ground on the mountain side, and saw it consigned to the earth, where it has lain undisturbed for more than fifty years.

"My mother has told me that on the day of her sister's death, she left her father alone for some hours. He then sent for her, and she found him with the Bible in his hands. He who has been so often and so harshly accused of unbelief, he, in his hour of intense