was the justice of the peace for the whole neighborhood and somewhat choleric withal. And tradition relates that when the President was one day telling him of the great advantages of the proposed plan, old Burns gruffly burst out-"I suppose, Mr. Washington, you think people here are going to take every grist from you as pure grain; but what would you have been, if you hadn't married the widow Custis?"

The southern border of the Burns plantation was a little stream, still flowing below the Capitol, well-known to every Washington boy as the Tiber, and to every classical scholar there as the Yellow Tiber. During the past winter, that stream has been walled and covered in, so that its waves no longer greet the light till they reach those Botanical gardens where Congressional horticulture flourishes at national expense. On the very spot where the Capitol now towers by the side of that little stream, lived, generations ago, an old gentleman, who was extremely fond of a practical joke. His own name was Pope; his plantation he therefore christened by the name of Rome, and the stream at the foot of the hill where he dwelt he called the Tiber. Very frequently did he bore his guests with the oft-told tale that America, as well as Europe, had its Pope, dwelling at Rome, on the banks of the Tiber! How it would have delighted his honest old heart, could he have foreseen that the ground where he then dw t would

THE VAN NESS MANSION.

MARIA VAN NESS. (FROM AN OLD PORTRAIT.)

| in other days be known as the Capitoline Hill.

It required some time and much talking to reconcile all the diverse elements; but at last David Burns and his plantationneighbors consented that their homesteads should be converted into the capital of the nation. One half of the land was to be given up to the public, the old proprietors to retain the other half. For all lands taken for public uses, they were to be allowed one hundred dollars for every acre and a half. Major L'Enfant, a French engineer of note, was selected to lay out the new city. He made his streets run due North and South and named them after the numerals; or else due East and West, designated alphabetically. The French minister of that day remarked to Gen. Washington that his engineer must be an infant in mind as well as name to

the besieged fortress, with some hopes of success, David Burns died, leaving his daughter the sole owner of a goodly number of slaves, and the most valuable piece of rising real estate in the United States. The poor girl was now solitary enough. Father, mother, and brother had all passed away, and she dwelt alone in the little cottage by the river-side. Circumstances forced her to a decision, and on the 9th of May, 1802, the day she attained her twentieth year, she surrendered her name and fortune to her handsome suitor. Mr. Van Ness ceased to represent New York, and became the owner of more than half of Washington.

One of the earliest acts of the new proprietor of the plantation was the erection of a large and costly house, built out of the sales of land that passed to the nation and to individuals. În its day it was the most expensive private mansion in the United States; it was the first in which hot and cold water was carried to all the chambers. Latrobe, the architect of the White House, drew the plans, and superintended the erection. It is said that even Mr. Van Ness, extravagant as he naturally was, was horrified by the continual calls for money for the new building, and at last remonstrated strongly with the architect. Mr. Latrobe coolly replied, "That's your business, to find the money. I have nothing to do but draw the plans, and build the house." Beneath its capacious basements are the largest and coolest wine-vaults in the country; and it was in these dark recesses that it was the original intention of the conspirators who afterwards assassinated Mr. Lincoln, to conceal their captive, had they succeeded in their original plan of capturing him alive.

The house, when built, was consecrated by its owner to hospitality. No other mansion in this country has opened its doors to so many and such illustrious guests. Monroe and Madison, Clay and Calhoun, Webster and Hayne were the friends of her husband, and her frequent visitors. From Washington to Jackson there was not a President of the United States who was not her friend and guest. General Van Ness was fond of display; the sale of the plantation had given him ample means; and nothing pleased him more than to see the political aristocracy of all parties crowded round his ample board. But his wife, while meeting all the claims that fashion and wealth could present, led an inner life

of much religious beauty. The loveliness and simplicity of her original nature remained unchanged until death. Wealth never corrupted her; prosperity never withheld her hand from the wants of the deserving poor. For thirty years her house was the center of Washington's best social life. Her husband's position, as Mayor of the capital, constrained him to a continued hospitality in which he took great delight. But her real happiness was found in other things. Religion, and charity, and the care of the orphan were never forgotten by her; her life was a train of unostentatious charities. In riper years her heart was fixed on the training of her daughter, and she made it her own work to educate that daughter for all the realities of life. It was part of the daily duty of both to read together the Word of God, and together to meditate on its solemn truths. They were congenial minds; and neither the difference of age nor the overflowing happiness of youth ever led the fair daughter away from her mother, or her religious duties. And when marriage came, and Miss Van Ness became Mrs. Middleton, the lonely mother could cheerfully see her daughter depart, for she well knew how fitted was that daughter for all that life or death could bring. Death soon came in the train of childbirth; and when the daughter and her little infant descended into the grave, the mother's heart descended with them. For the family was built one of the most beautiful mausoleums ever constructed in this country;—perhaps, at the time of its erection, the most beautiful. It was the exact pattern of the pillared temple of Tivoli. All that part of H Street, then on the outskirts of the city, now its very center, the mother dedicated to religious uses. At the right of the grave rose the Church of the Ascension, for which she gave the land; on its left the Washington Orphan Asylum, to which she gave not only the land, but four thousand dollars. Between these two buildings, the one consecrated to religion, the other to charity, was erected the mausoleum that was to await her decease.

Death came to her at last, as it comes to all; but not until she had enjoyed all the pleasure that wealth, or society, or fashion can give, and found how frail and worthless they are when compared with religion. or affection. She died in September, 1832, when she was just fifty years of age; and she received, what no other woman in the United States has ever received, the honors

CHAPTER X.

WHERE MORE IS MEANT THAN MEETS THE EAR.

BUT Dacre did not go. The days passed on, heavy yet sweet, like the scent of tropical flowers,-idle summer days beside a summer sea, and Katey met him continually-sometimes as they rolled along the wide, smooth avenue, themselves no insignificant part of the brilliant pageant spread out here upon a bright afternoon; sometimes as they came like mermaids out of the sea; or more often in the twilight, when they sat in unpremeditated state to receive their visitors, enthroned in the bright red chairs upon the veranda. He was always alone. Where are the friends for whom he has staid? Katey thought, wondering not a little over his forlorn appearance. But at sight of them his dark face would brighten for the moment, the cloud of discontent or ill-humor being dispelled by Delphine's cheerful greeting. Katey was still chary of her smiles. He seemed to her like a dark sot upon the beautiful landscape. "I think he is unhappy," Delphine said. But Katey believed that he moped: and to mope when one is young and strong seemed to her the

height of folly, if not of sin. Often he lingered for a moment beside them; then she would try to be gracious, remembering her promise to Delphine, but utterly failing in the attempt. Her manners had not yet hardened into the crust which we all wear later in life. So far, every emotion, every prejudice would show through.

"You do not like me," he said boldly, one night, finding her upon the veranda alone.

"Why should I?" she replied; then, frightened at herself, she added, quickly, "Why should I not?"

"I commend your wisdom," and he threw himself down upon the steps at her feet, "but I wish you would."

He quite forgot the connection between his sentences, as he raised to her the face which appeared almost boyish in the softening light. There was a laugh upon his lips; but the depth and pleading of his eyes gave it the lie.

Katey stared, the warm color flying into her face. This was not at all as the young men she had met were accustomed to address her. "I-I am sure I wish you well," she said, hesitatingly, and with a quaver of embarrassment in her voice. It