USA > Washington DC > Washington DC > Reminiscences of the District of Columbia, or, Washington city seventy-nine years ago, 1830-1909 > Part 4
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I was returning from McLeod's school; not a house from where Daniel Webster lived, on Sixteenth street, until you came to a paint-shop, owned by William Keefe, near the corner of Eighteenth. The rain was coming down in torrents, an incessant lightning flash. I was carrying over my head a silk parasol, with a steel point on the top. One blinding flash came and turned my parasol inside out, and almost perked it from me. The flash ran up and down the handle, but I held it fast and ran; we lived on the next block. I put my parasol behind the door. The next morn- ing I went to get it; it was "tinder." Everyone said the parasol had saved my life, the silk being a non-con- ductor, the steel point having drawn the flash. There
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were many persons killed during that storm, both in Georgetown and Washington. Mrs. Doyle lived on Bridge street, Georgeton; she, with a colored girl, was standing in a door when the flash came, killing the girl instantly, stunning Mrs. Doyle, making her a cripple for life.
The next house was a three-story brick, where Mrs. Waugh lived. She was called a "Quaker preacher," a lovely woman, very large and stately looking, with the sweetest smile always upon her face. Next west, a low, square, brick house-"the Quaker Meeting House." Next, a brick, where Mr. Ratcliffe lived. A vacant lot on the corner; and back from the street was the house of Mr. Charles Calvert. This was the city of Washington from 1836 to 1842.
It has been many years since I saw it; it has, no doubt, changed much, but the times and places of which I have written are fixed in my memory. I could find each landmark. I lived eighteen years in this neighborhood. I remember the building of Schnider's foundry, corner Eighteenth and F; the two bricks east, in one of which lived the daughter of Hon. Edward Everett. I have forgotten her name, but I have seen him many times. Next, Mr. Charles Wilcox lived; he went gunning one day on the Poto- mac, and, coming home in a boat, accidentally touched
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his gun and blew the top of his head off. He had a wife and two small children. The two two-and-a- half-story houses next, where Mr. Charles Barnard and Mr. George McGlue lived. Next, the white frame cottage where Grandmother Dunn, of whom I have written, lived. Next, another frame, where Mr. Rob- ert O. Knowles lived and where Count Bobolon had rooms, I suppose because General Gratiot lived oppo- site. Next, Major Emory. Next, the "Rush building," where at one time Jefferson Davis lived; also Philip Kerney; also the British minister, Bulwer. Next, Mr. Hilbus, a piano tuner; next, Mr. F. A. Wagler, music teacher; and on the corner, Mr. McCaskie. This brings us to the crab apple and hawthorne hedge I have mentioned before ; also to the jail, or ell, where Gadsby kept his negroes until they were sold to Geor- gia. It was a long, one-story brick, with windows barred with iron, and sometimes at night you could hear their howls and cries.
The Gadsbys lived on the corner of H and Eigh- teenth streets, and kept a very large hotel on Penn- sylvania avenue, near Four and a half street. It was the first-class hotel in the city. Their dwelling, on the corner, was a large, square, brick, with balconies of iron at the windows above and below. Mr. Gadsby was the grandfather of John Chapman, the artist who
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painted the picture, "The Baptism of Pocahontas," placed in the rotunda of the Capitol. At this time the rotunda, with the wings containing the hall of representatives and senate chamber, was the whole structure, which has since become the magnificent building. There were about twenty acres enclosed in an iron railing. The grounds were beautiful; Nature had more to do with it than art. The immense for- est trees in the grounds were scattered here and there. There were fountains and pools filled with gold and silver fish, swimming and sporting in the sun; a charming sight to the eyes of a child, as I was at that time, and long to be remembered.
I suppose everything has been changed. Around the Capitol were negro huts, vacant lots, with nothing pleasant to look upon. The croaking of frogs was the only music heard in "Swampoodle," as it was called. I believe the first house of any consequence built on the north side of the hill was that of Hon. Stephen A. Douglass, who built many years after- ward. From the south side of the Capitol you could see the navy yard, the penitentiary and the old city of Alexandria ; you also had a fine view of Arlington and the blue water of the Potomac, and I doubt if all the magnificence and splendor now in and around the city could compensate those who saw and knew it
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Reminiscences of the District of Columbia; or,
in the years of which I write-fifty years ago, or more.
Arlington, the residence then of G. W. Parker Cus- tis, was daily visited by strangers, and many were the picnic parties enjoyed there in the lovely woods sur- rounding the mansion. I remember going there. After you entered the grounds, which were reached either by going over the Long Bridge or going across in rowboats, the road turned east and passed under an arched way that divided the public grounds from the gardens around the house; a large spring flowed near the roots of an immense tree. That supplied water for any number of persons. Mr. Custis had two or three pavillions built to accommodate the par- ties, either to set the tables or to dance. Frequently he would come down to the grounds and participate
in their amusements. He has been known to take his violin and play for the dancers. For many years Arlington was celebrated for its enjoyable picnics ; but that was before the war, or before its grounds had been consecrated by the burial of the dead.
I shall have to write of some of the singular char- acters, whom I have often seen. Miss Anna Royal lived on Capitol Hill, and edited and printed a weekly paper, called "The Huntress." It was said the type she used to print her paper was the old, worn type
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given her by the printers in the city. The work she did herself. One had to have good eyes to be able to read the "blurred" sheet that was presented. She walked the avenue, and every stranger was solicited to become a subscriber; if you did, or did not, give her your name, you might look out for it in the next week's issue.
Beau Hickman was quite a character in the city. I have seen him often dressed in the height of fashion or style, scarlet necktie and yellow vest. He never failed to attract attention by his gaudy attire, and many were the stories and anecdotes told of his eccentrici- ties and doings. "Blind Joe" was also one to be re- membered. From his earliest childhood he always carried his basket; was led by a dog tied by a string. He had his particular places, and never failed to have his basket well filled. He lived with his aunts, named Moran, in an old, white house, standing back from the street, at Nineteenth and G.
At this time the churches were not very numerous. The oldest one, I suppose, was the Foundry, corner Fourteenth and G streets. Dr. Laurie's Presbyterian Church, on F, between Fourteenth and Fifteenth. Rev. Obediah B. Brown's Baptist, on Tenth, between F and G, next north of the Medical College and in the neighborhood of Ford's theatre, where Lincoln
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was assassinated in after years. St. Patrick's Catho- lic, corner Tenth and G, with Female Orphan Asylum opposite, or nearly so. The Methodist Protestant, or Radical Church, on Eleventh street, between F and G. I remember going to that church one Sabbath evening to listen to the Rev. Thomas Stockton, his subject was: "Beauties of the New Jerusalem." He was very tall and slender and, as he stood in the pul- pit, looked ghostly. He held the attention of the congregation more than two hours. At any time you could have heard a pin fall. The people were packed like sardines in a box, more than three-fourths were standing. When he ended, his voice almost in a whisper, his arms elevated, he looked as if he were ready to ascend to the beautiful land he had so elo- quently described. Everyone drew a long breath, or sigh, and retired from the church without remark. Dr. Gurley's Presbyterian, corner New York avenue and H streets. St. Matthew's Catholic, corner H and Fourteenth. John's Episcopal, corner Fifteenth and a half and H, called Parson Hawley's Church. Asbury Chapel, negro Methodist, northeast from St. Matthew's. Ryland Chapel, Methodist, in the "Northern Liberties." Union Chapel, Methodist, cor- ner Twentieth and H. Colored Baptist Church, cor- ner Nineteenth and T. The German Lutheran, on G,
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between Nineteenth and Twentieth. The Union Chapel and St. Matthew's were new, scarcely finished at this time. There was a Unitarian Church, and another, called the Metropolitan Methodist, in the neighborhood of the City Hall, or, on Four and a half street, in the eastern part of the city.
Over north from New York avenue, between Twelfth and Thirteenth, on an elevation, was a row of beautiful houses, called "Franklin Row." No other houses were near, it seemed to be out of the city at that time. A vacant lot, with a marshy spring in the centre, was between the "row" and New York avenue. The Indians had a dance in this lot in 1835 or 1836.
Thomas H. Benton lived near the City Hall, on Four and a half street, and the railroad depot was on Pennsylvania avenue, near the foot of the Capitol. Mrs. Fremont was visiting her father at this time, and her niece, Miss Nina, was a pupil in the convent in Georgetown.
I remember seeing every president from General Jackson to Franklin Pierce. Martin Van Buren was very fastidious in regard to eating. One incident I will relate : There lived near us a family named Moore. Mrs. Moore agreed to supply the president, each morning, two fresh-laid eggs for his breakfast.
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Occasionally she would send an egg a day old. He would invariably, next morning, send her word the eggs were not according to contract. I have often seen Mrs. Van Buren with ladies, walking on Penn- sylvania avenue, accompanied by her son, Prince John, then a lad; he would allow them to get several steps ahead, then run and push his mother with all his force, and nearly throw her down. Many times have I seen him "cut that caper."
John Tyler came next. It was during his admin- istration that the big gun on board the Princeton, a steamer laying at the navy yard, exploded, instantly killing eight men; and had not the president, a few moments before, accompanied Miss Gardiner to the cabin, he, too, would have been killed. It was an awful catastrophe. The news came at sundawn (no telegraph at that time), filling the city with mourning and consternation, for nearly all the killed were cab- inet officers. I think Mr. Gardiner was one of those killed. I know Judge Upshur and Commodore Ken- non were. The names of the others I have forgotten.
The bodies were laid out in the East Room at the White House, where they lay in state for several days. The funeral procession was over a mile in length. They were buried in Congressional burying ground, on Capitol Hill. Eight hearses, each drawn by four
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white horses, each horse's head held and led by a colored groom, dressed in white. It was an awful sight and I think all who beheld it remembered it till their dying day. The marine band, from the navy yard, and others, accompanied the remains, playing funeral dirges. The buildings along the avenue were draped with mourning, the flags flying at "half mast." Mr. Lemuel Williams was the undertaker ; he lived on Pennsylvania avenue, between Seventeenth and Eigh- teenth.
The funeral of President Harrison had occurred only a short time before; his death was the first that had been in the White House. In those days were no state dinners; only the New Year's reception. Janu- ary first was the great day in Washington society, everyone making calls. The only resident foreign ministers at that time were the British ministers, Mr. Fox, a bachelor, and Packinham, who had no family. The French minister, Paget, lived on the hill near Georgetown.
Washington at this time was a great village with houses scattered here and there. The only avenue was Pennsylvania, running from the Capitol nearly to Georgetown. The houses were not very thickly built. The other avenues were, I suppose, laid out (anyway,
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Reminiscences of the District of Columbia; or,
in imagination). The only one I heard of at that time was New York. This was in 1843.
Next to Tyler came James K. Polk, a very sedate and quiet gentleman, whom I have met hundreds of times. His usual custom was to rise early, take a walk 'round the grounds outside of the wall surround- ing the President's mansion, considered a mile in ex- tent. My early walk was to take my completed knit- ting work, either to Mrs. Voss or Mrs. Anderson. I would often meet him; after a while I would re- ceive a bow and smile from him.
Houses were being built on H street. Mr. Charles Balmain built a double house near the centre of the block, between Seventeenth and Eighteenth. Mrs. Keefe, a widow, lived in a cottage, west of the Bal- main house. Mr. Cathcart built a large brick on the corner of Seventeenth and H. A row of brick houses was being built on the west side of Seventeenth, and from H to Pennsylvania avenue. Mrs. Titball lived in the first one of the row. There was a large brick house standing there for many years, near the corner of H and Seventeenth. It was a tenement house, for several persons lived there, whose names I have for- gotten.
Mrs. Titball was the mother of Misses Ringgold; also of Major Ringgold, who had married in the West
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and whose wife died shortly after he came to Wash- ington. He was an artist and painted the portraits of several majors and generals. He was painting the portrait of Judge Upshur when he was killed by the explosion on board the Princeton. Mr. Isaac Hol- land lived next Mrs. Titball; he was "sergeant-at- arms" in the Capitol, a position he held for several years. It was his son, Stewart, that went down with Lieutenant Herndon on board the "Artic," a steam- ship that was lost at sea in January, 1852. Mr. Hol- land's eldest son, Nicholas, was one of the "Forty- niners." Two or three houses and you were on the avenue. A large brick stood on the corner ; was occu- pied by Mr. Oliver Dunham, as an office. Turn west; Mr. Lemuel Williams' shop and residence. Next, Mr. James Kelly's tin shop. Then, several vacant lots, for many years. Near the corner of Eighteenth street and the avenue, a double three-story brick was built with stores on the first floor. Mr. Robert Bates lived in one of them and had a first-class tailoring es- tablishment. From Eighteenth to Nineteenth, a gov- ernment reservation on either side.
At this time I was a pupil in Miss Lydia S. Eng- lish's seminary in Georgetown. I have forgotten the name of the street where it was located. Miss Lips- comb has occupied the premises since. The house
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was peculiar in its construction, being built upon the side of a hill, on a street running north and south, and occupying the whole block. You entered the front door on the street, walked through and you would find yourself on the third floor, back. The main school room was on the first floor, where all the scholars assembled to answer the roll, after which the higher classes ascended a flight of stairs to the study, a room where the boarders always sat in the evenings to prepare their lessons. The house had three porches; back upon the two upper ones opened the sleeping rooms of the boarders, who, at this time, numbered 150. Under the lowest porch were several wooden swings; in the hall, under the main school room, the girls would dance at recess; the dining room was next the hall, and all around this, and under the sleeping rooms, were the class rooms, each teacher having his own class room, which were in the base- ment on the street, but in the second story in the back. The flights of stairs we had to go up and down eight times a day, for the school hours were divided into eight "periods."
Miss Lydia S. English and her sister, Miss Jane, were the principals. Misses Ann and Jane Wright, Miss Roberta Johnson, Miss Harriett Annan, Misses Caroline and Rebecca Tenney, Misses Louisa and
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Phebe Nourse, teachers who lived in Georgetown; Miss Topham, Miss Healy, Miss Robinson, from Massachusetts; Miss Sarah Josepha Hale, daughter of Mrs. Sarah J. Hale, Authoress, from Pennsylvania ; Miss Grace Fletcher, niece of Daniel Webster, and Mrs. Dr. Dane, widow of Dr. Dane, of New York.
This seminary had a great reputation, having at that time boarders from every state in the Union and from Canada. There were two Drennens; two Se- vier, daughters of Ambrose H. Sevier, each senators, or members, from Arkansas, I believe. One thing I remember were the fine, large "pecans," sent in bar- rels, by their parents, to these young ladies in the winter; and how generous they were to divide with the girls, of which I was one. Two daughters of Senator Bagby, of Georgia; also Miss Moseby, cousin of the Bagbys. They were beautiful young ladies, dressing elegantly, but, having left their servants, or maids at home, presented the most ridiculous appear- ance to the girls who had always waited upon them- selves; their shoes were untied, their hair uncombed, and they were no further advanced in their studies than children in the primary department. They were advanced in their musical education, being performers on the harp, violin and piano, but of books they knew nothing, and their language was "negro lingo." Miss
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Cornelia Whitehead was another boarder. I have forgotten where her home was; somewhere in the north. She was very beautiful, her manners pol- ished, her education far advanced; she came to the seminary to be finished before making her "debut." She could compare favorably with Miss Harriett Williams, who lived in Georgetown and who had married Count De Bodisco, the Russian minister, a few years before.
The Williams were not in very good circumstances, the father being a hatter, having his establishment on Bridge street, near High. His daughters attended the school, and one day, as the minister was driving by the seminary at noon, as he often did, the young ladies were being dismissed; and many were beautiful as well as mischievous. He rode in an open barouche, drawn by four white horses, two postillions in livery behind, two drivers in front, Bodisco sitting on the back seat. They were an imposing sight, moving slowly along to catch a good view of the girls. Miss Williams, full of fun, said, so I have heard, "Girls, shall I stop the Russians?" and immediately stepped into the street, in front of the horses and stooped down to tie her show. All were astonished at the action, but as she looked up, so full of mischief, the minister was captivated. Not many months after they were married. I have seen her many times, after
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their return from Russia, where she was not received at court. They came back to live in Georgetown, in the neighborhood of "Oak Hill Cemetery." Many times has our botany class wondered over the hill where the cemetery now it. Fifty years ago it was a rough hill, Rock Creek running north and east, an old mill on the other side of the creek. The beautiful wild flowers we gathered. I have now in my possession an herbarium, prepared from flowers gathered there in 1845. Jack-in-the-Pulpit, wild Lady Slippers, wild Larkspur, Ragged Robbin, with violets, anemonees and many others.
Mr. and Mrs. Bodisco brought back with them, from Russia, two nephews, who were educated in Georgetown at the college. Young men they were at that time. Waldimer Bodisco was the name of one of them. They lived happily, Mrs. Bodisco being a devoted wife and mother. There were five children. He died before my removal to the West and was burial at Oak Hill. The people were thinking of making it a cemetery at that time.
I was visiting in Georgetown. There was a bury- ing ground out High street, near the centre of the city. The people were talking of removing the bodies, as the land was valuable for building purposes. Many had been taken to other places, and everything
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that remained was in a dilapidated condition. While wandering among the tombs we came across the rest- ing place of Lorenzo Dow. I suppose everyone has heard of him. A stone slab, resting upon a brick foundation, marked his grave.
The Catholic convent was in this neighborhood, surrounded by a high wall. When I was twelve or thirteen years of age I witnessed the ceremony of five nuns being consecrated; three the white veil, two the black. Fathers Gurley and Rider, with others, were the priests who officiated. It was a most im- pressive scene, and the music sublime. You could go from the convent to the college by a winding path, through a lovely vinyard, which was a mile walk. Anyway, it was beautiful on the heights of George- town.
The entrance to Georgetown, at this time, was very difficult, for the old bridge had been torn away and for a summer we crossed Rock Creek on a "Tontoon bridge," or bridge of boats, going down the hill on Washington side and up a hill on the other. In wet weather it was a dangerous thing to do. After cross- ing you were on Bridge street. The Presbyterian Church, on the second square, south side, had the tomb of Parson Balch between the front entrances. I suppose it is there yet, though fifty years have
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passed. On the first street, after passing the bridge, going north, was the Methodist Church, whose pastor was the Rev. Lyttleton Morgan, belonging to a fam- ily of several sons, all of whom were ministers. His wife was an authoress, whose "non de plume" was "Lucy Seymore." The two books she had written then (fifty years ago or more) were the "Polish Or- phan" and the "Swiss Heiress," sequel. Kosciusko was one of the principal characters. Up Bridge street, three or four blocks, was the Union Hotel, on the corner of the street that led to the seminary, of which I have written. At this hotel, at this time, "Iturbide," a Mexican or Spanish refugee, lived for a long time. I have often seen him sitting upon the porch, envel- oped in a cloud of smoke, for he was devoted to the "weed."
Mr. Abbott kept a school for boys two or three blocks from Miss English's seminary. At the exam- inations he would attend, and sometimes examine the higher classes. I tell you, we would "quake," but we were always ready to answer any questions or prob- lem he would ask. He remarked we were fitted for college as well as any of his boys. I can recall some of the girls' names who attended school when I did. Ridgeleys, Ratcliffs, Rileys, Vincents, Edes, Essex, Lyons, Smiths, without number, Peters, France,
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Brookes, Witherell, Nourse, Rittenhouse, Shoemaker, Hills, Wilcox, Carnsi, Bonnycastle, Offley, Coakley, Partridge, Aberts, Hydes, Munros, Johnsons, Moores, Sheckels, all living on streets running west from the seminary.
After leaving the school I went to Alexandria and taught in Miss Lydia Kesley's school, corner of Duke and Washington streets. She was a widow, with two daughters and one son, William, who died in Wash- ington, after he became of age. Julia, the eldest daughter, married General Scheff, and Miss Lydia was a teacher of music for many years. While at Alexandria we visited the "cemetries" south of the city, in the vicinity of "Yates Garden," and saw the grave of the Female Stranger, of whom I had heard my mother speak so often in my childhood. She had died in the "twenties." Her grave was surrounded by a white paling, a large marble slab, upon a stone foundation, four by six feet, with the inscription, "Sacred to the Memory of the Female Stranger," with the stanza :
"How loved, how valued, once, avails thee not, To whom related, or by who begot; A heap of dust alone remains of thee, "Tis all thou art, 'tis all the proud shall be."
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My mother had seen her sitting at the window of the hotel, and described her as being very beautiful ; she looked like an English lady and was extremely young, not out of her "teens," She was brought there, no name given, or whence she came. She pined away and died.
It was during the administration of James K. Polk that the "Marine Band" discoursed beautiful music, every Saturday afternoon from two until five o'clock, in the South grounds of the President's mansion. All the fashion and elegance of Washington society was brought out by these Saturday afternoon recep- tions. Afterward, the same was inaugurated Wed- nesday, in the grounds of the Capitol. No carriages or horses were allowed in either place, but all were welcome to promenade the lovely gravelled walk, not stepping upon the grass. The walks were twenty feet or more wide, the gravel smooth and white as snow. Pennsylvania avenue was a beautiful walk from Fif- teenth street to the Capitol gates. The ascent to the Capitol was reached by stone steps, on either side two very large iron gates, level with the avenue. En- ter the gates six or eight stone steps, ascend a few steps further on another flight of steps and again, and again, until more than a hundred steps brought you to the wide gravel walks, similar to those at the Presi-
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dent's house. Surrounding the Capitol building were perpetual fountains. It would be useless for me to enumerate the statuary that surrounds the Capitol, or name the pictures in the rotunda. Much has been added since 1850. I do not suppose any of the old pictures have been discarded, but will always remain while this people exist.
The cornerstone of the Washington Monument was laid, President James K. Polk officiating, Rob- ert C. Winthrop delivering the oration. The first line of telegraph was put up between Washington and Baltimore. The cornerstone of the Smithsonian In- stitute was laid, and preparations began for the beau- tiful edifice that commemorates the liberality of its foundation. Mr. Reeves built a stone house eat of Daniel Webster's, on H street. Mr. Elisha Riggs built a fine brick on H street, corner of Seventeenth. Everywhere were signs of improvement.
I must mention some of the great men I have seen. I saw every one of the presidents from Andrew Jack- son to General Taylor-Daniel Webster, Henry Clay, John C. Calhoun, Thaddeus Stevens, James Buchannan. I used to meet every morning, on my way to school, Dixon H. Lewis, senator from Alabama. I think he was an immense man. As he sat in his chair in the Senate his head looked like a knob on the top of a
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sugar bowl. He dressed generally in black. I be- lieve his weight was between four and five hundred. No carriage or vehicle of any description could be found in the city large or strong enough to accommo- date him. I have heard ridiculous stories concerning him, which I will not relate, as I wish nothing but posi- tive truths to appear. Lieutenant Herndon, his wife and daughter, I remember well. Colonel Totten, his wife, his younger daughters, Grace and Gertrude; Major Marcoe, wife, daughter and son ; Colonel French Forrest, his wife and daughter, Emily, who married Lieutenant Norden and died shortly, and his son, Douglass ; Mr. and Mrs. Randal, who was a daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Monroe, who lived in the six buildings. Their eldest daughter, Juliana, married a Mr. Elliott. Emily, the other daughter, married a banker, and Deborah died. I must not forget Miss Mary Murry. She was the daughter of a widow lady, living on Tenth street. She taught music and was the first singer in the choir of St. Matthew's Catholic Church. I have heard her sing often; on certain occasions her solos were magnificent. She had the reputation of being equal to Jenny Lind. She had many scholars in our part of the city and was very intimate in the family of Mr. Samuel Redfern.
Junius Brutus Booth about this time had an engage-
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ment in the city. The National Theatre was being remodeled, or repaired, after the fire. No other place, but a hall on the second floor, on Four and a half streets, could be gotten. I saw him play "Romeo and Juliet," "The Stranger," and "Richard the Third." On one of these evenings an accident occurred. One of the footlights, from some cause, ignited a flowing curtain on one side of the stage. In an instant it was in a blaze, and the audience in the greatest confusion. One of the actors rushed forward, tore the curtain from its fastenings, and extinguished it. After fif- teen minutes, order was restored, and the performance finished. The room of the theater was very small, the door narrow, opening inward, and, being on the second floor, if the fire had not been put out, a great many lives would have been lost.
I witnessed the inauguration of James K. Polk, but not of General Taylor. As soon as Taylor took his seat, he thought it his duty to "cut off the heads" of those in office. No other administration had begun its work so soon, or so thoroughly. Men whose lives had been spent in office, until they were fit for noth- ing else, was dismissed, and persons put in office who knew nothing of the duties assigned them. Was it wise to dismiss the faithful and tried, and put in those who had no care for the discharge of duties other
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than to get the pay for their services, which were, in reality, no services at all? One subject, I well re- member ; he came from Indiana as "poor as a church mouse," was employed in one of the departments, kept boarders to support his wife and himself, for there were no children then, keeping his salary to "shave the poor fellows whose pay would not suffice from one month to another. He was called the "curb-stone broker," loaning a poor fellow five dollars and in a month getting ten in return from the poor fellow, who could not help himself. He died a few months ago, worth millions. I wonder if all of his transactions were of the same character as those that fell under my notice !
No females could get employment in the govern- ment offices at that time. Men were employed ex- clusively. One more little incident I must relate; it is among the last of my reminiscences: One after- noon, as walking upon Pennsylvania avenue, near the National Theatre, with a lady friend, we saw coming toward us (a sight I can never forget-it is so fixed in my memory-while life shall last) a person, a stranger ; shall I describe her dress? Green checkered gingham, short, six or eight inches from the ground; blue and white mixed cotton hose; low shoes, tied with narrow pink tape, such as was used in the offices
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for tying packages; a lovely, black silk mantilla, with four ruffles, such as were worn by ladies dressed in the height of fashion, at that time; a leghorn bonnet, with three delicate pink ostrich plumes; hair curled in ringlets, falling below her waist; her hands with- out gloves. Such incongruity of dress would attract attention at that time. We knew she was from the West. That person was the mother of Mrs. Robert I. Flemming, of Georgetown heights. This was in 1849.
The Fourth of July, 1850, was an excessively hot day, and the celebration was above the ordinary. The procession was more than a mile in length, the avenue literally filled. I forget whether it was laying the corner stone of some building or not, but I remember seeing the President in the procession. Time and again he would remove his hat and wipe the perspira- tion from his head and face. I did not think it would be his last appearance in public, but it was. The cele- bration was over by three o'clock. All have heard how he drank milk and ate cherry pie, and died on the ninth of July, 1850.
This brings me to the end of my reminiscences. I might, in many instances, have been more elaborate in my descriptions, but I considered "discretion the better part of valor." Not much could be gained by
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repeating all I knew. Those who were young people at that time can tell if my writing is truthful. I think it is. My grammar may not be as pure as it once was. I have learned the sayings of the "Westerners," from a forty years' residence with them; but hoping you will excuse all mistakes and imperfections, I am, truly,
Yours, &c., THE AUTHOR.
August, 1909.
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"BEYOND THE VEIL."
Wesley Taylor.
Beyond the mystic veil of death, Shall we exist as conscious selves, Or shall we sleep unconsciously, Like dusty tomes upon the shelves?
If man has not immortal life, Wherein to live, to move and love, Then wherefore give him longings for A purer life, beyond,-above.
Where all his aspirations tend, And all his hopes and yearnings are? If life, with earthly toil shall cease, And all his aims no fruitage bear.
If love,-affection are but dross, If hope is but a mocking fiend, That points to ripened fields beyond, Yet knows the grain will ne'er be gleaned.
Then wherefore, reason give to man, That he may trace effect to cause; Why lure him to the gates of bliss, Then bid him at the threshold pause.
Are we but lilies of the field; But grass, that trembles in the dew; Our lives, all purposeless and vain, Or shall we take a broader view,
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Washington City Seventy-nine Years Ago
And look on life as something real, And reaching far beyond the veil That hides the unseen from the seen, As the real, though all else should fail?
Oh! conscious life beyond the grave! Thou aim and object of the soul! Oh! man, thou seemest a very god, If thou but win the precious goal.
How grand the thought, that earthly life Shall fadeless laurels gain at last; That all the dread and fear of death, Shall linger only in the past.
And surely, when life's toils are o'er, We shall not sleep the dreamless sleep, Immortal seeds of love we'll sow, And of the ripened fruitage reap.
Beyond the veil, we there may learn The depths of God's infinite love And progress there with beckoning hand, Will guide us onward and above.
(This copy made from the original poem, through the kind- ness of Mrs. Taylor, by Stanley H. Wheat, Sr., July 8, 1894.)
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