The American patriot., 1855-02-21
Washington.
BY c. EDWARDS LESTER.

The stream Of Time, which sweeps along every
thing human to oblivion, passes without injury
by the everlasting column of Washington s fame.
Those convulsions which threaten the perman-
ence Of our Union, and sicken us with the strifes
and struggles Of parties, only render more and
more dear the name of the Father Of the American
Republic. The nations of the Old World, as they
lift their wcaricd and half palsed arms to strike
for liberty, utter the name of Washington with
veneration, gratitude and love. Wherever the
all.glowing sun lights up the homes of earth's
children; through all the continents and islands;
along all the shores and rivers; on every green
mountains side and down every blushing valley,
the old tells his history to the young, and all
nations rise up and call him blessed All that
belong to him has become sdearto mankind. The
ground his feet pressed, is sacred. The trees he
planted with his own hand the groves through
which he walked at evening, still seem to breath
his name as they rustic their zephyr music. Even
the sparkling ripples of that majestic stream which
flows on by Mount Vernon, seems to utter nte-
gible words to the ear of the pilgrim, who from
that green lawn looks throught the bending boughs
by moonlight on the glistening waters. ...7.,
1t is strange the world should have thought
and said SO little of the ao;fs of such man! We
have sought in vain for those minute records of
her history which might crafty curiosity: and
who can repress desire to know something more
than is written of the being who shared SO largely
the affections of Washington! whose image he
bore in his heart through the long, perilous years
OF the great struggle! She should have been noble
and beautiful. We gaze on the mastery drawn
group of Stearnes, and singing out the bride, we
find that she aoas. 1t is touching picture. It
opens new scene in the life of Washington: the
pencil of the artist has poured new rays of light
on history; and the bridal picture, in the old
church will hereafter live fresh in our memo
ries. - t7
The following words are all the painter has fur
nished for our guide- ..=-
Va Marriage of Washington. -
THE place the Paris Church of ST. Peters, county
OF New Kent colony of Virginia; the time, January g.
l759 Within the railing stands the officiating clergy
man, Rev. DR.. Mossom; in full canonicals and about
to pronounce the words, wilt thou take this woman
&c, Washington is in front OF him. dressed in scar
let velvet coat The BRIDE in white satin robes and
group OF ladies and gentlemen in the beautiful costume
OF the period, complete the central group On their
right, are Gov Dinwddic and suite, with ladies, naval
and military officers and the elite of the old Virginia
aristocracy On their left are seated the brides father
with her two children. Behind them, stand Lord
Fairfax with his suite, and ladies' The artist was asss-
ted by G. W. P. Custs, Esq, in the studies for this
composition"
But the waves Of almost century have drifted
by, and borne the fair blushing bride and her
love to the tomb. Their dust has long since min
gled with the genial soil Of Mount Vernon: and
must seek them there. And the time never will
come when their home and final resting-place will
not send thrill pure feeling to every generous
heart. p.I
1t was beautiful spring morning. many years
ago, when we set out from Washington to visit
for the firts time, this Mecca of Liberty. The
balmy air waited through the carriage windows
the fragrance of early flowers; just pecping out
from the warm banks of the Potomac The sun
aIppn1vy e .lo1.
and the mists rose from the bosom of the river
to greet him, and then foated for away into the
blue sky as spirits go, when they leave us for that
bright land :, - r 5aI.'..t s-rf as- -r.
as "Where everlasting spring ahides, i -a5j
And never-wthering flowers" -nl 0aH
we could not say that there was gay, glad heart
among u.s. there would have been many, had we
not been going to the tomb of the Father of his
Country. But there was something so holy in the
thought that we were approaching the spot where
tne greatest and purest of mankind rested from
his heroism that we felt mirth had no place in
our feelings, and into that day levity could not
enter But it was cheerful ride, and an inspir-
ing day. We do not remember that q cloud
moved over our little party during the excursion,
nor was our cheerfulness interrupted till we had
reached the shrine of our pilgrimage, and stood
before the sarcophagus where the dust of WASH
ington reposes. ..f. f,r- ...f. ~. -s
No matter for our ride along the river, nor its
picturesque bends, nor banks, nor lawns, nor
woodlands At every turn in the road we saw the
calm waters of the silver stream, around which
llnger memories that are sanctified by all that
is brave in chivalry and touching in patriot
ISM
long ride through the oak forests brought us
to the venerable mansion where Washington lived
and died. AT the porter's lodge we stopped to
see the only living servant of the Patriot. She
lives in the lodge and still watches the gate. We
entered the dwelling and talked with her. She
said she was fifteen years old when the "General"
came back from the wars, covered with victory;
and she remembered him we'll as he rode through
the gate and said, "Ah! my little Sylvia, the Brit
ish didn't hit me after all; and they have all gone
back to Old England, and have come home to
live and die on the cstate" and young Sylvia seiz-
ed the Generals hand, and kissed it. and wet
1t with tears. She saw Washington de-saw him
when dead; and now, when she speaks of him, she
looks up to heaven, and pointing her hand away,
says "Wel, if we ever go to heaven, we shall see
the General there" ......
We left this octogenarian keeper; and she said
many kind words to us as we went on half a
mile slowly threading our way to the mansion
through deep ravines from which only the upper
sky was visible, and now emerging on emincnces
from which we hoped to get at least glimpse of
the mansion; but holy feelings filled up the inter-
val We were passing over new ground, where,
warm with life and radient with benifcence, the
form of the hero so often passed. even the air
seemed naughty by his presence every step we
took was an epic.
One of our companons-a cherished poet and
sculptor no'o-traced the outlines of the great