The Redwood gazette. [volume] (Redwood Falls, Minn.) 1873-1940, 1873-07-24

tirely upon speculation of my character
and bearing every external evidence of
greater truth than my own narrative.
But here was the house. A canny walk
and q gentle ascent under a few old trees
led to the porch. On that bright day of
yellow June its hard outlines and scant
decoration were somehow lost in the gfa-
cious atmosphere. The door stood open,
and entered at once spacious hall
almost the only indication of the dignity
of its former occupant. It divided the
mansion east and west and through q rear
door as large as the front gave a view
upon descending lawn and orchard, and
simmer of the Whippany river in the
| lower distance. "In the hottest day in
summer" said the gentle hostess, "there
is always q breeze through the hall"
Surely nature, at least, was not forgetful.
1t was pleasant to think that when the
fervent July sun scorched the elaborate
pink and blue tiled roofs Of the modern
villas in the avenues yonder that the
mountain breezes from those wooded
heights that he had made historic, loved
to meet and play and linger here. "Dur-
ing his time the door was never Shut"
continues the lady, like a pleasant Greek
chorus, 'but always open, as you see."
Was it the Virginian habit still strong, or
a military necessity? Think of it in that
memorable winter of ~, when the ther-
mometer stood below zero f)r weeks, and
the Hudson river was frozen over at the
battery! Yet I am somehow thankful
that the humOrist is not with me to CON-
ment upon this startling discovery of q
new and painful youthful habit
Then We went into the reception-room
or parlOr, and saw the elaborate antique
table desk, opening in the middle
Washington relic indubitably-and then
into the bedroom where he slept, the Office
where he wrote, the dining room in which
he ate, and looked at the glass in which
he shaved. As no one ever saw Washing
ton with beard, and as his habits were
methodical, perhaps this insignificant bit
of furniture is most characteristic and
notable. There was not, perhaps, much
to see. You will find more elaborate old
furniture in. modern clearinghouse; I
have stood in more spacious and charac-
teristic colonial dwellings. 1t is far un-
like the Cambridge headquarters in which
Longfellow is set as precious jewel-but
in its scant decoration, in its faded and
economic gentility, in its quiet, stern, un-
past, a past entirely Its own, the Spartan
the place descends upon you as you stand
there. Even in this gra0ious June sun
light you shiver and ttfn7 cold. Gaunt
faces peer at you through the windows;
there is the echo of uneasy, disconnected
footsteps in this hall, and yet through all
a pathetic patience flowing from one lone
ly selfcontained figure subdues and sad
dens every complaining beam and rafter
in the ancient house,
1t was at this window that the great
commander stood and saw the mutinous
Connecticut troops file past and clamor
for the wages long due that he had not 10
bestow. It was in this room that he,
proud man, appealed to the already i'm
poverished Jersey farmers for few more
rations for his starving men. 1t was at
this table that he wrote that pathetic let
ter to Congress. 1t was here that he was
"closeted closely'' with Lafayette. There
was scant cheer in this little dining-room
that winter. Yet here sat that young
West Indian, scarce turned of twenty,
Alexander Hamilton, whom Washington
in moments of rare tenderness called my
boy" and made recipient of his conf
dence. What a pleasant staff appoint
ment for gay young fellow Smallpox
in the distant village and famine in quar-
tiers. Here, too, sat the "Old Secretary"
as they called him-as methodical as
Washington and conscious of his ways;
and here the turbulent Sullivan, and Howe
in New York feasting and junketing and
only river, dangerously filled with ice at
times, between!
And all this to be sold on the 25th of
June to the highest bidder. You can, as
you stand here in fancy, already hear the
auctioneer's hammer. The setting sun
from without looks into the western win
dows, lingering fondly, as we'll it may,
over the old house it knows so well-and
on whose like it shall never look again.
1t steals little higher toward the peaked
gable. Going, going. There is a glory
on its roof for moment, and it is gone.