sufferings, replete with more terrible want than any ever known in the history of the Colonies.*

During all this season of horrors, Mrs. Washington remained with her husband, trying to comfort and animate him in the midst of his trials. Succeeding years brought the same routine, and victory and defeat walked ofttimes hand in hand. October of 1781 brought "glad tidings of great joy" in the capture of Yorktown, and nothing seemed to defer the long anticipated return of General Washington to his family and friends.

Ere yet the shouts of victory rang out upon the listening ear of a continent, Colonel Custis was borne from the scene of triumph to a village in New Kent County to die, and soon the messenger startled the inmates of Mount Vernon with the mournful intelligence. Washington, amid the intense joy of his troops, could not conceal his anxious feelings for this deeply loved son of his adoption, and his heart went out to his crushed wife. "He left Yorktown on the 5th of November, and reached, the same day, the residence of his old friend, Colonel Bassett. He ar rived just in time to receive the last breath of John Parke Custis, as he had several years previously rendered tender and pious offices at the death-bed of his

* Six miles above Morristown, Pennsylvania, and twenty from Philadelphia, on the Schuylkill River, is the deep hollow known as Valley Forge. It is situated at the mouth of Valley Creek, and on either side rise the mountains above this lonely spot. To the fact that in this valley there had once been several forges, it owes its name, and here Washington found winter quarters for his suffering army.

sister, Miss Custis. The deceased had been the object of Washington's care from childhood, and been cherished by him with paternal affection. Reared under his guidance and instructions, he had been fitted to take a part in the public concerns of his country, and had acquitted himself with credit as a member of the Virginia Legislature. He was but twentyeight years old at the time of his death, and left a widow and four young children. It was an unexpected event, and the dying-scene was rendered peculiarly affecting from the presence of the mother and wife of the deceased. Washington remained several days at Eltham to comfort them in their affliction. As a consolation to Mrs. Washington in her bereavement, he adopted the two youngest children of the deceased, a boy and girl, who thenceforth formed a part of his immediate family."

Mrs. Washington did not know that her husband had left the scene of his triumph, until he suddenly appeared in the room of death; and it calmed her to have his presence in so trying an hour. He returned with the sad mourners to Mount Vernon, and mingled with those two sorrowful hearts the tears of his own sad soul.

The world and its cares called him hence, and he turned away from his quiet home to meet the demands of his country for his services. Congress received him in Philadelphia with distinguished honors, and he everywhere was the recipient of his country's love and reverence.

Called from his retirement to preside over the

destinies of his country as its first President, Washington immediately left his home and repaired to New York City, the seat of government.*

*

Our young country demanded, in the beginning, that regard for forms and etiquette which would com mand respect in the eyes of foreign courts; and, acting in accordance with this design, the house of the first President was furnished with elegance, and its routine was arranged in as formal a manner as that of the St. James or St. Cloud.

Always an aristocrat, Mrs. Washington's adminis tration as "hostess" was but a reproduction of the customs and ceremonies of foreign heads of government, and her receptions were arranged on the plan of the English and French drawing-rooms.

She assumed the duties of her position, as wife of the Chief Magistrate, with the twofold advantage of wealth and high social position, and was, in manner, appearance, and character, the pleasing and graceful representative of a class of which, unfortunately, the original is now taken from us, "a lady of the olden time.”

Reared as she had been, a descendant of the chivalry of Virginia, who in their turn were the descendants of the English nobility-aristocratic, proud, and pleased with her lofty position-she brought to bear all the brightness of a prosperous existence, and her influence extended to foreign lands.

*The journey to New York was a continued triumph. The august spectacle at the bridge of Trenton brought tears to the eyes of the Chief, and forms one of the most brilliant recollections of the age of Washington.

The levees held at the Republican Court-then located at No. 3 Franklin Square, New York-were numerously attended by the fashionable and refined of the city. The rules of the establishment were rigorous, and persons were excluded unless in the dress required. Access was not easy, and dignified statelinesss reigned over the mansion of the first President of the United States. The subjoined let ter, written to Mrs. Warren soon after Mrs. Washington's arrival at the seat of government, will present her views on the subject of her elevation more correctly than detached extracts from other books.

"Your very friendly letter of last month has afforded me much more satisfaction than all the formal compliments and empty ceremonies of mere etiquette could possibly have done. I am not apt to forget the feelings which have been inspired by my former society with good acquaintances, nor to be insensible to their expressions of gratitude to the President; for you know me well enough to do me the justice to believe that I am fond only of what comes from the heart. Under a conviction that the demonstrations of respect and affection to him origi nate in that source, I cannot deny that I have taken some interest and pleasure in them. The difficulties which presented themselves to view upon his first entering upon the Presidency, seem thus to be in some measure surmounted. It is owing to the kind ness of our numerous friends in all quarters that my new and unwished-for situation is not a burden to

me. When I was much younger, I should probably have enjoyed the innocent gayeties of life as much as most persons of my age; but I had long since placed all prospects of my future worldly happiness in the still enjoyment of the fireside at Mount Vernon. I little thought, when the war was finished, that any circumstances could possibly happen which would call the General into public life again. I had anticipated that from that moment we should be suffered to grow old together in solitude and tranquillity. That was the first and dearest wish of my heart. I will not, however, contemplate, with too much regret, disappointments that were inevitable, though his feelings and my own were in perfect unison with respect to our predilection for private life; yet I cannot blame him for having acted according to his ideas of duty in obeying the voice of his country. The consciousness of having attempted to do all the good in his power, and the pleasure of finding his fellow-citizens so well satisfied with the disinterestedness of his conduct, will doubtless be some compensation for the great sacrifices which I know he has made. Indeed, on his journey from Mount Vernon to this place, in his late tour through the Eastern States, by every public and every private information which has come to him, I am persuaded he has experienced nothing to make him repent his having acted from what he conceives to be a sense of indispensable duty. On the contrary, all his sensibility has been awakened in receiving such repeated and unequivocal proofs of sincere regard from his coun