Public ledger. [volume] (Memphis, Tenn.) 1865-1893, 1877-10-30
WASHINGTON PAST LIFE.
MTS. Gen. Green's ReeoIIecions.
Washington Cor. Chicago Times.l

Washington Cor. Chicago Times
A few days ago there came up
from a plantation near Raleigh,
N. c., Mrs. General Green, a lady
years ago well known in Washing
ton society. She has not been in
the capital for many years. She is
crippled with rheumatism, and
poor as Jobs turkey, she SAYS; but
| never had more enjoyable con-
versation than with this veteran of
fashionable life. She took me into
the past with her. "Thls old ho-
tel, " referring to the National, "is
a historic place. Here have been
the great men of the past. l have
seen Clay and Webster walk arm
in arm up these stairs, and in a
room on this floor Henry Clay
died. Those rooms opposite the
parlor were the Presidents rooms.
Buchanan is the last one who lived
here. Hamlin occupied them
a while. Those dark, quaint cor
ridorS, and circular lights over the
doors, look inst as they did when,
"a bride, 1 first saw them. The
frescoing, the painting on the walls,
lis unchanged The fruit and flow
ers above the chandelier on the
brown ground, and the painted
cupids in the hall. Every face in
the house is strange to me. All
my friends are dead and gone.
Mrs. Chittenden can see now
standing in the hall receiving her
friends after her marriage. Her
shoulders were superb, her dress
elegant, her manners charming,
and by her side that little ugly
man, with tobacco juice running
from one corner of his mouth, and
his cravat twisted under his ear.
And Nine La Vert was in her
glory here in those days. l was so
ill one time that my life was de-
SPARED of. Into my room came
Nine La Vert. Il could not 90,
Mrs. Green, without showing YOU
my lovely shoes She lifted up her
party dress aud danced about in
her pink-satin boots, asked if they
were pretty, aud at last danced off |
like a fairyto the ballroom. l be-
gan to mend from the time l saw
those pink shoes. Poor Nine La
Vert died last year, in poverty SO
bitter that she had not a cent to |
call her own. Mrs. Chittenden lost
her beauty, was paralyzed and died !
not very long ago. Mrs. Mills was |
a habitue of the hotel. She was
very rich. Her daughter married |
Fernando Wood, and for this
reason became SO bitter that |
there was no communication |
between mother and child, and \
she willed even her pictures to a
gallery, 50 that Wood never should !
have them to adorn his walls. Once |
she sat in her carriage while went
in to call upon her daughter. The
carriage stood at a little distance.
The elegant house was crowded. 1t
was reception day. When | reached |
the carriage Mrs. Mills said, ex-
citedly, How is she? How does
she look? How did she receive
you t? What did she sayl' 'Why
don't you go and see her yourselfY
| said, your own child i how can
you be SO bitter?' Il will never 20
to see Alice so long as she is that
mans wife. 1t is nothing to me
how she is she said coldly, draw
ing her furs about her neck. Mrs. !
Wood is now insane, and Mrs. Mills |
fell from a hotel window and killed |
herself one 4th of July-two years |
ago or three. That very 4th l was
on the plantation far from any /
neighbor. | made the negroes take
turns ringing the big dinner bell
that hangs in the yard. Ihad flags
on the house and bonfres at night,
and the servants said, La, ole miss
done gone crazy, shure, keepin' up
that clatter all day. But l felt
lonesome; l wanted to celebrate
some way. The next night three
young Northern men came in the