The Sun.
London, England, 1859-11-03 00:00:00

TVASIIINGTON'b FIRST LOVE.

A correspondent of the Century, in giving some
reminiscences of the old country seat called " The
Cottage," in Hanover county, Virginia, relates the
following account of Gen. Washington's proposal
for the hand of Mary Cary, and his rejection by her
father :
" Her father wa3 Wilson Cary, Esq., of ' Celeys,'
in the county of Elizabeth city, descended from
the noble family of Hunsdon, in England. His
relative, Colonel Archibald Cary, of Ampthith,
in Chesterfield, was, at his death, the heir apparent
to the earldom. The worthy old gentleman seems,
from all we know of him, to have been as proud as
the Coneys or the Somersets, and to have thought
his family the noblest in the land. He lived in great
state, with chariot and horses, plate and velvet and
embroidery—a worthy of the old school, fully satis•
fled with the' order of things,' and enjoying serenely
the good gifts of Providence. His beautiful daugh-
ter was a great heiress, and had many suitors. The
one here alluded to was a young man of very high
character, a relative of George Wm. Fairfax, Esq.,
who lived in Belvoir, on the Potomac ; and here he
met with Miss Cary, who came to visit Mrs. Fair-
fax, her eldest sister. He at once proceeded to fall
in love, which he did with an ardour characteristic
of his nature.

" When Miss Cary went back home to Celeys;
on James river, he followed her like a courageous
gallant, and laid open siege to the fair fortress. In
the good old times, however, something more was
necessary than the consent of the young lady, and
so the youth duly asked a private interview with
the lord of thentanor, who listmed to him in silence
throughout. When the lover had finished Mr. Cary
rose, made him a low bow, and said that if this was
young Mr. Washington's errand at Celeys,' his
visit had better terminate—his daughter had been
accustomed to ride in her own chariot.' And with
this allusion to the poor condition of the younger
sou, the interview terminated. Young Washington
bowed and turned away, and in due time married
the young widow, Martha Dandridge Curtis, who
I resembled Miss Cary,' says an authority, as much
as one sister ever did another.'

" The old tradition does not end here. Many
years fled away—Mary Cary ivas Mrs. Ambler, and
her discarded suitor was the man who had just re-
ceived the sword of Cornwallis at Yorktown, whom
the whole civilised world hailed as the greatest
among the great, the foremost man,' not only in
America, but of all the world.' He passed the old
metropolis, Williamsburg, at the head of his victo-
rious troops, and the people were almost crazy with
joy and admiration. The vast multitude nearly
prevented his horse from proceeding; the calm
statue on horseback passed on serenely. All at
once he perceived at a window, or in a crowd, his
old love, Mary Cary. He raised his sword and
saluted her profoundly. She fainted.
" But it does not seem that the lovely woman was
to blame. She hid not
,been able to return the
affection of the youth—that was all. She married
him who won her heart, Edward Ambler: He was
worthy of this noble lady in rank and character.
He was descended through his mother from the great
Huguenot house of La Roche Jaqueline, in Vendee,
and inherited the honest instincts of his race. At
12 years of age he had been sent for his education
to England. He graduated at Cambridge, and
then made the grand tour of Europe, returning to
Virginia when he was 21. He was married to
Miss Cary soon afterwards, became collector of
York ; and was so much respected that when Lord
Bottetort came to Virginia as governor he brought
a letter of introduction to the collector. He died
at 35, and the Revolutionary war break-
ing out soon afterwards his beautiful widow
moved away from the scene of her grief.
and took refuge in the Cottage' far up in
Hanover."
Belvoir, the seat of the Fairfaxes, spoken of
above, was on the bank of the Potomac, three, four,
or five miles below Mount Vernon. The only re-
mains now of that fine residence is a low mound of
broken mouldering bricks, covered over with wild
vines.