executors of his will, and lived until 1857. These were the children of John Parke Custis and his fair young wife, Eleanor Calvert, and had all been born during the absence of the master from his home at Mount Vernon.

Here let us pause a moment and look with the eye of faith in the words of a fellow man, upon the person of the great patriot who sat at the head of the feast on that day. The year before, a writer in the London Chronicle (an anti-ministerial paper), who had seen Washington, thus vividly described him: "General Washington is now in the forty-seventh year of his age. He is a tall, well-made man, rather large-boned, and has a genteel address. His features are manly and bold; his eyes of a bluish cast and very lively; his hair a deep brown; his face rather long, and marked with the smallpox; his complexion sunburnt, and without much color. His countenance sensible, composed, and thoughtful. There is a remarkable air of dignity about him, with a striking degree of gracefulness. He has an excellent understanding, without much quickness; is strictly just, vigilant, and generous; an affectionate husband, a faithful friend, a father to the deserving soldier; gentle in his manners, in temper reserved; a total stranger to relig ious prejudices; in morals irreproachable; and never known to exceed the bounds of the most rigid temperance. In a word, all his friends and acquaintances allow that no man ever united in his own person a more perfect alliance of the virtues of a philosopher with the talents of a general. Candor, sincerity, affability, and simplicity seem to be the striking features of his character; and, when occasion offers, the power of displaying the most determined bravery and independence of spirit." Domestic felicity and social enjoyment were, at that time,

secondary considerations with Washington, and, on the morning of the 12th of September, he departed, with all his military guests, from his delightful dwelling-place, journeyed to Fredericksburg to embrace his aged mother and receive her blessing, and then hastened on toward Yorktown, where Cornwallis had intrenched himself with a view of overrunning Virginia.

There was great sorrow at Mount Vernon on the morning of the departure of the master. It was a grief to the devoted wife to part so soon from her husband, who was on his way to battle, perhaps to death; but more poignant was her grief as a mother, for John Parke Custis, her only surviving child, in whom her fondest earthly affections were centred, followed Washington to the field as his aide-de-camp. He was then in the flush of manhood, eight-and-twenty years of age, and full of promise. He was a member of the Virginia House of Burgesses, and very popular wherever known. He now went out to battle, for the first time, leaving his wife and children and his fond mother in the pleasant home at Mount Vernon, with every material comfort around them, but with hearts filled with sadness, and spirits agitated with anxiety and apprehension.

Oh, how eagerly did those wives and mothers at Mount Vernon watch for the courier who daily brought intelligence from the camp! At length there came a messenger with tidings which produced mingled joy and alarm. He came to tell of a triumph at Yorktown, and of mortal sickness at Eltham, thirty miles from the field where victory had been won. At Yorktown, the allied armies, after a siege of twelve days, had compelled Cornwallis to surrender, with all his army, seven thousand strong.

Joy was awakened all over the land as intelligence of this glorious event was spread, by swift couriers, from hamlet to hamlet, from village to village, from city to city. The name of Washington was upon every lip, as the Benefactor, the Liberator, the Saviour of his country. And there was peculiar joy and pride at Mount Vernon, when, at early dawn on a frosty morning, a messenger brought the intelligence that prophesied of peace and the speedy return of the loved ones to the safety and repose of domestic life.

But, as we have said, the same messenger brought intelligence that produced serious alarm, and preparations were immediately made at Mount Vernon, for a journey. Young Custis was very sick with camp fever at the house of Colonel Bassett, the husband of his mother's sister, at Eltham. His mother and wife were soon upon the road; and, in an agony of suspense, they urged the postillion to increase the speed of his horses. When they arrived at Eltham, all hope for the loved one's recovery had vanished.

Washington had sent his old and faithful friend, Doctor Craik, to attend the sufferer, and as soon as his arrangements at Yorktown could be completed, the chief followed. He arrived at Eltham "time enough" he wrote to Lafayette, "to see poor Mr. Custis breathe his last." In that hour the young wife was made a widow, and the mistress of Mount Vernon a childless woman. The great man bowed his head in deep sorrow, while his tears flowed freely. Then he spoke soothing words to the widowed mother, and said, "Your two younger children I adopt as my own." These were Eleanor Parke Custis and George Washington Parke Custis, the former two years and six months of age, and the latter only six months.

They both lived beyond the age of threescore and ten, and Eleanor was considered one of the most beautiful and brilliant women of her day. She married Lawrence Lewis, the favorite nephew of Washington. The nuptials were celebrated on the

ELEANOR PARKE CUSTIS.

chief's birthday, 1799. Three days before, Washington, as her foster-father, wrote from Mount Vernon to the clerk of Fairfax county court, saying:

"SIR: You will please to grant a license for the marriage of Eleanor Parke Custis with Lawrence Lewis, and this shall be your authority for so doing."

The portrait of this beautiful lady, from which our engraving

is copied, was painted at Philadelphia by Gilbert Stuart. It adorned the mansion at Mount Vernon for several years, an is preserved with care among the Washington treasures of Arlington House.

Late in the autumn of 1781, Washington again visited Mount Vernon for a brief season. It was when he was on his journey to Philadelphia, in November, bearing the laurels of a victor. He was accompanied as far as Fredericksburg by a large retinue of American and French officers; and there, after an interview with his mother, he attended a ball given in honor of the occasion. The aged matron went with him to the assembly, and astonished the French officers by the plainness of her apparel and the quiet simplicity of her manners, for they expected to see the mother of the great chief distinguished by a personal display such as they had been accustomed to behold among the families of the great in their own country. They thought of the Dowager Queen of France, of the brilliant Marie Antoinette, and the high-born dames of the court of Louis the Sixteenth, and could not comprehend the vision.

Washington retired with his mother from the gay scene at an early hour, for there was grief in his heart because of the death of his beloved Custis; and, the next morning, attended by two aides and Billy, he rode to Mount Vernon. His stay there was brief. Public duties beckoned him forward. "I

shall remain but a few days here," he wrote to General Greene, and shall proceed to Philadelphia, when I shall attempt to stimulate Congress to the best improvement of our late success, by taking the most vigorous and effectual measures to be ready tor an early and decisive campaign the next year."

Happily for the country, no other campaign of active mili

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