The Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1837-1867, 1837-10-17
MISCELLANEOUS.
From the New York Express.
A GLIMPSE AT MOUNT VERNON"

A correspondent who recently visited this in
teresting spot, has sent us letter, from which
we make the following extract:
eve have now reached the private road lead
ing to Mount Vernon. A servant boy met us at
the gate and pointed out the house, which wac
as yet nearly half mile in advance. AS we
entered the enclosure once owned by the beloV-
ed Washington, for one must confess all gaIety
forsook me. Though nearly forty years had
passed since the dead whose grave we sought,
was among the living, and although since then
the old world in nearly every division, had been
volutionized-though Emperors, Kings, Dukes
and Presidents, had, with their generation, pass
cd away, and millions of the great men of this
world had gone, still there was but one spot, but
one place, one tomb one Mount Vernon, that
contained the remains of GEORGE WASHINGTON.
1t ,UaS here, and felt that was standing upon
holy ground. l chose to be alone. The history
of one of the greatest men the world ever
was spread before me from his infancy to the
dying bed. The boy GEORGE who was afraid
to tell the youth GEORGE WASHINGTON,
who with the most filial fondness, torsook hope
and ambition to soothe the anguish of moth
er-the MAN WASHINGTON from l775 when he
was chosen commander in chief of the Amerl-
can forces-Washingto at Boston, Trenton,
Princeton, Germantown, Yorktown, every scene
through his brilliant and interesting life, seemed
an occurrence of yesterday.
We rode along to the gate enclosing the
to the present occupant, Lady Washington, the
niece of Judge Washington, who, believe, was
the former occupant of the estate, which now,
as formerly, composes several hundred acres.
An intelligent servant was sent Ill answer To our
cards with orders to conduct us about the prem
ises The dwelling was built of wood, two sto-
rics high and cut in imitation Of free-stone. 1t
is nnety-six feet in length and is surmounted by
n cupoa. The centre CT the building was erect
ed by Lawrence Washington, brother of George,
and the wings by the General himself. We en-
tered the house built bv the brother of George
Washington, which with the whole estate was
given 10 George us a token of affection AMI graf
itlde The building is Of the old fashioned style
of architecture, the ceiling of each room is COW
cred with elegant stuccO; the house is very spa
cious and us was generally the customary mode
OF building half century since,W,th the Kitchen
and all the out houses wholly disconnected with
the dwelling house,
| dare predict that stranger who was ignOr-
ant of the residence of Washington, yet knew
his character, would have told me that had
reached the house of the American Patriot.
Eeyery thing as far possible was as Washing
ton had left it when he left the world. | enter
ed under the porco and into the house with Il
melancholy pleasure. The first thing that caught
my eye was the key of the French Bastlle, CIV
by the Marquis de Lafayette, to General
Washington. 1t hung in glass frame upon
the wall of the entry, fit relic for preservation
The walls upon each side were covered with
national paintings, mostly of military character.
One painting, if L remember right, represented
the death ofthe brave ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS the
battle of Bunker HILL and several scenes of sea-
fghts-yet none ofthem were representations OF
Washington's own deeds of vaor. Before en-
tering the room we hurried to the front entrance
of the house, under the piazza, where, upon the
day of burial, rested the corpse of Washington.
From this spot he was taken to the tomb, and
here the coffin lid for the last time closed his
liteless remains from, the gaze Of man. Here
within stones throw of the dwelling house and
the original tomb of Washington, flows the Po-
tomac, running at this point southwest, although
the course of the river is south east. As gazed
upon these interesting waters, the beautiful and
apt lines of Brainard came irresistibly upon
me:
FLOW gently, Potomac thou washest away
The sands where he trod and the turf where he lay
When youth brushed his cheek with her wing
Breathe softly, ye wild WINDS that circle around
That dearest, and purest, and hoest ground,
Ever pressed by the footsteps of Spring.
Each Each breeze be sig land each dew drop tear,
Each wave be whispering monitor near,
To remind the sad shore of his story
And darker, and softer, and sadder the gloom
Oftha evergreen mourner that sweeps o er thetomb,
Where Washington sleeps in his glory.
stood for long time in front of the dwelling
Illuminating upon the past and present Every
thing around me was going to decay. Ruin
stared me IN the face wherever l turned my eyes,
and Mount Vernon, though small in compass,
minded me of the Grecian Patras known like
Jerusalem and the cities of the Plain, not for
what they are, but for what they have been in
the history of the past. The very walls, built by
the rather of his Country, to surround and en-
close his family editice, were tumbiing down
hKe the ruined City of Italy, not because Ameri
ca,lke' Italy, was dead and buried. but because
America would raise no other monument to the
memory of her beloved son, than the living tenn.
pie which every American has raised in his own
bosom. Not only was the family edfce falling
to decay, but every building upon the premises.
The garden walls were for the most part in ru
ms. "Dull time" every where had fed olke a
slow fire upon hoary brand.''
G. the tooth of Time
Had ground the sculptures TO rude forms,
Such as the falling waters eat from rocks
In the deep gloom ofcaves"
Where, ask, is the love of Washington, when