, 1869-07-16
MOUNT VERNON.


pilgrimage to Mount Vernon, and though,
wnsn the day came, the heavens wore a
threatening aspect, we could not think they
would continue to frown on so pious an un.
dertaking l am sorry to say they kept on
frowuing however, and that finally, after we
were fairly embarked, they proceeded to se>
verer measures, letting down the drop,cur-
tain Of a sullen, steady rain on our fond,
rash hopes. Yet, seen under this most un-
festal disadvantage, the old historic river was
still very beautiful, and the trip was BY no
means AL disappointment and discomfort.
We fel6 perhaps, more inclined than We
otherwise should have been to scold at the
lack Of good plank or gravel walk from
the steamboat landing to the Tomb aud Man
sion but, on the whole, think the party
we're remarkably good-humored people af,
ter Mark Tapley's own heart-"jolly under
creditsble circumstances"
We found the house-our house, the dear
old homestead Of the Nation-in q dismal
condition of dirt and dsarrangement, given
up to carpenters and plasterers for long.
needed repairs.
The interior Of the Mansion has, with The
exception of few rooms occupied by the
Regent" Miss Cunningham, far drearier
aud more decayed appearance than it had
dnriDg The residence here Of the degenerate
Washington family, of whom it was bought
by the Mount Vernon Association; but out
side there is look of greater care and taste
Miss Cunningham, though an invalid, has
given herself to the work of preserving, as
she gave herself to the work of securing this
hallowed spot, with wonderful energy aud
devotion. All that is wanted to her steward
ship is physical strength aud something per-
haps Of Yankee thrift. Yet much has been
accomplished in the way of improvement BY
her, though more by a power greater than
hers. The shabby negro quarters have been
removed, or reconstructed, and the negroes
themselves are no longer to be seen lounging
about, hungry and halfclad, their hopeless,
imbruted condition Ainging a shadow of re-
proach about the home, the name, and the
grave of Washington.
The grounds and shubbery are in better
order than of old, and the garden has lost
somewhat of its look of melancholy neglect.
But there IS much that must be done "efore
the honor of the Nation is redeemed. The
home of Washington, which must always be
one of the "pigrim shrines" of the world,
should be under the direct care of the Gov.
ernment-a sacred charge. Itshould be re.
stored as nearly as possible to its old, best
estate, and then kept in perfect order, bright
and sweet and cheerful-a spot to inspire,
not depress the patriotic visitor.
A more unsuitable point for the Tomb of
Washington could hardly be selected than
the one it now occupies, though it is said to
have been his choice-nor more ugly mau-
soeum erected than the present red-brick
structure, which looks like the gateway of
country churchyard. 1t has an exceedingly
bare, uncomfortable, temporary look. The
beautiful marble sarcophagi seem merely to
be resting there. You feel as though they
must move on TO better, more permanent
resting'place. Heaven grant that they may
That more fitting tomb, 10 q more fitting
spot, may be erected by a patriotic Govern
ment, acting as the agent of grateful peO.
pie, and that once more, and for the last
time, this august pair, so grand in their sim,
plicity, this uDcroWned king and queen, this
father and mother of the Republic, shall be
moved with reverent hands, and their ashes
enshriued in a temple worthy of their mem
ory and the love of great nation.
But fear that to accomplish this we shall
need the preaching of another Peter the
Hermit like Edward Everett.
we'll remember my last visit to Mount
Vernon, before this of last Friday. was
one of a small party of friends who, early
in the spring of 1852, accompanied Kossuth
on his pilgrimage to the Tomb, which he
said was to him the most sacred spot on
earth. As he stood, in that cloudy April
day, gazing through the iron railing at the
massive sarcophagus bearing that more than
royal name, and sculptured with the arms
and triumphant symbol of the Republic, the
disappointed, melancholy exile burst into
tears. His noble withdrew closer to his side,
laid her hand on his.arm, and spoke to him
s"ay 19.B ~ bis Gs'S"f few steps, and, leaning leaning
against tree, sobbed like child. When
he could speak, it was only to say: "AhI
happy Washington He succeeded, and
saved his dear country. I have failed, and
my poor Hungary is lost p
1t was evidently one Of those moments of
utter giving away, when the iron of defeat
entered the hero's SOUL
We we're on this occasion received by Col.
onel Washington, a sad, discouraged>lookiug
parsonage, with certain air of mild decay
about him in keeping with bis surroundings.
He was destined to perish miserably, while
fighting against the Government once fought
for and administered by his great kinsman.
l then saw for the first time the private
apartments of the house-the most interest.
ing of which were, of course, the chamber
in which Washington died, and the library in
which he wrote and read.
The sleepinglrooms struck me as few and
small for the mansioi of hospitable Vir>
ginia gentleman "all of the olden time"
Where did be stow away all his guests at
Christmas, or in the hunting season, or at
the time of the Fairfax racesY In the great
banquet hall be doubtless dined them sump,
tuOusly, but where be slept them is still |
mystery. One would like to know iu which
pigeon'hole was lodged the gallant MARQUIS