As the time passed I became somewhat anxious over the delay in Mr. Gouverneur's return to this country. It seems, however, that, with neither of us knowing it, we were upon the sea at the same time. His homeward voyage was made by the way of the Isthmus of Suez and Marseilles. For a while it seemed difficult for either of us to realize that we were in our own country once more, as the Civil War had turned everything and everybody topsy turvy. When we left the country, party animosities were pitched to a high key, but the possibility of a gigantic civil war as a solution of political problems would have been regarded as preposterous. On our return, however, the country was wild with excitement over an armed struggle, the eventual magnitude of which no one had yet dreamed of. Newly equipped regiments were constantly passing in our vicinity for the seat of war, the national ensign and other emblems of loyalty were displayed on every hand and a martial spirit pervaded the very atmosphere. The war was the one important topic of conversation at homes, in the streets and in places of business. The passions of the people were so thoroughly aroused that they were frequently expressed in severe denunciation of any who presumed to entertain conservative views of the situation of affairs and who still hoped for conciliation and peace. Suspicions were often created by trivial but well-intended acts or remarks that were susceptible of a double construction, and loyal sentiment was often so pronounced in its denunciation of the South that no word or remark could be tolerated that by any possibility could be construed as a criticism of the administration, a disapproval of the war or of any detail relating to its conduct. For example, not long after our return from China, while Mr. Gouverneur and I were visiting my sister, Mrs. Eames, in Washington, we were watching one day a newly equipped regiment from Vermont while passing her residence en route for the seat of war, when Mr. Eames remarked, "Gouverneur, isn't that a fine regiment?" My husband, who then and always thereafter was thoroughly loyal to the cause of the Union, but whose military training had made him familiar with the precise tactics and evolutions of regular troops, replied: "They need training," when Mr. Eames, with much warmth of feeling, exclaimed: "You are a secessionist, sir!"

That, however, represented but a mild state of feeling compared with that sometimes entertained between those who were loyal to the Union and others who sympathized with the South. I recall one conspicuous instance where such antagonistic views resulted in personal animosity that severed tender personal relations of long standing. When I left the country a lifelong intimacy had existed between Mrs. Charles Vanden Heuvel, a granddaughter of Robert Morris, the great financier of the Revolution, and Mrs. George Gibbs, granddaughter of the Connecticut statesman, Oliver Wolcott; but after the outbreak of the war these two elderly women differed so radically in their views concerning the conflict that, for a period, their personal relations were severed. The spirit of toleration was so utterly lacking in both the North and the South that even those allied by ties of blood were estranged, and a spirit of bitter resentment and crimination everywhere prevailed. This state of feeling, under the circumstances, was doubtless inevitable, but it emphasized better than almost anything else, except bloodshed itself, the truth of General Sherman's declaration that "War is Hell!"

The animosities engendered by the war ruptured family ties and familiar associations in Maryland much more completely than in the North. One of the Needwood families was that of Outerbridge Horsey, who was a pronounced Southern sympathizer, while not far away at Mount O'Donnell, a superb old estate, lived General Columbus O'Donnell, who ardently espoused the cause of the Union. Mr. Horsey had a son born just after a Southern victory whom he named Robert Victor Lee; but later, after a Confederate defeat, General O'Donnell suggested that the name be changed to Robert "Skedaddle" Lee, whereupon Mr. Horsey retorted that he thought the name of a grandchild of General O'Donnell might appropriately be changed to George "Retreat" McClellan. Of Charles Oliver O'Donnell, one of the General's sons, I retain the pleasantest memories. He was a gentleman of attractive personality and a genial nature. His first wife was Lucinia de SodrÉ, daughter of Luis Pereira de SodrÉ, who at the time of his daughter's marriage was the Brazilian Minister in Washington. Mr. O'Donnell's second wife was Miss Helen Sophia Carroll of Baltimore.

After remaining a few months in New York and a shorter period in Washington, we visited Mr. Gouverneur's father, who was still living at Needwood in Maryland. Here we found a radical change of scene, for we were now in close proximity to the seat of war. On our journey southward we were somewhat delayed by the rumor that General Lee was about to enter Maryland, rendering it necessary for us to procure passes, which was accomplished through the courtesy of General Edward Shriver, a native of Frederick, who held at the time an important official position in Baltimore. We had thought when we arrived in New York that public feeling ran high, but it was mild compared with our observations and experiences in Maryland, and we never dared to predict what a day would bring forth. Mr. Gouverneur's father was a pronounced Northern man, but his wife's relatives, as well as most of his neighbors, sympathized with the South. Soon after the outbreak of the war, while we were yet in China, and at the period when Maryland was wavering between the North and South, and to anxious spectators secession seemed almost inevitable, my father-in-law and ex-Governor Philip F. Thomas left one morning on a hurried trip to Frederick, where the State Legislature was convened in special session, instead of at the State Capitol in Annapolis, which was then occupied by Union troops. A report had reached them that the legislature would probably declare for secession and call a convention to take into consideration an ordinance for the accomplishment of that end, and they desired to exert whatever influence they could command to retain the State in the Union. The national administration, however, was equally alert, and a measure much more effective, in this instance, than moral suasion was employed to defeat the adherents of the Southern cause. General John A. Dix arrested ten members-elect of the State Legislature, the mayor of Baltimore, a congressman and two editors; while in Frederick, General Nathaniel P. Banks took into custody nine other members who, under the suspension of the writ of habeas corpus, were confined for a time either in Fort Lafayette in New York or in Fort Warren in Boston. I well remember that one of these was Severn Teackle Wallis of Baltimore, a lawyer of exceptional prominence and ability and a universal favorite in society.

Shortly before the battle of Gettysburg, when Frederick County was occupied by the Union troops, many of the officers dined at Needwood. A little later, although over forty miles away, we knew that a great battle was in progress, as we distinctly heard the steady firing of heavy artillery. The news of the great Union victory finally reached us and I listened in silent sympathy to the rejoicing of the Unionists and heard the lamentations of the sympathizers with the Southern cause.

After the battle of Gettysburg, the disorganized Southern army came straggling along through Maryland, their objective point being Harper's Ferry; while General George G. Meade with his troops was on South Mountain, within sight of the former locality. During the night there arose one of the most violent storms I have ever known, and we naturally supposed that it would render the Potomac and Shenandoah Rivers, which meet at Harper's Ferry, absolutely impassable, as all bridges had, of course, been destroyed. The storm raged with such fury that we were actually afraid to go to bed. Mr. Gouverneur and I were elated because we believed it meant the end of hostilities and the Union restored; for in our opinion, it seemed impossible for human beings to successfully contend with the elements and at the same time to live under the fire of Meade's guns. It would therefore be difficult to describe our surprise when we learned the next morning that Lee's troops had safely crossed the Potomac and were again on the soil of Virginia.

Several days later Mr. Gouverneur and I were driving on the national turnpike, commonly called the Hagerstown pike, when we encountered the Union army. Our destination was the country seat of ex-Governor Philip F. Thomas, two miles from Frederick and within the shadow of Catoctin mountain, which we were contemplating as a future home. Our travel was not impeded except by an occasional inquiry in regard to our political sentiments, as the Northern army was prone to believe that every sojourner in Maryland at this time was an adherent of the South. This national turnpike, which has been and still is a well-traveled thoroughfare, was constructed at a cost of several million dollars and was generally regarded as an extravagance of John Adams' administration. In speaking of this road, which begins at Georgetown, D.C., and crosses the mountains into Kentucky, Henry Clay once remarked that no one need go abroad for scenery after viewing "the Valley of the Shenandoah, Harper's Ferry, and the still more beautiful Middletown valley."

We were so favorably impressed by the Thomas place that we decided to purchase it and in a short time found ourselves permanent residents of Frederick County, in Maryland. We changed the name from "Waverley" to "Po-ne-sang," which was the name of a Chinese Mission and meant "a small hill." After seeing the children and myself comfortably established in our new home, Mr. Gouverneur felt that he was now free to give his services to the country for which he had so valiantly fought during the Mexican War. As he was still in exceedingly delicate health, active service in the field with all the exposures of camp life was entirely out of the question but, desirous of rendering such services as he could, he wrote the following letter to Major General Henry W. Halleck, Commander in Chief of our Army:—

General Halleck replied as follows:—

General Halleck seemed to be ignorant of the fact that the chief requisite for serving upon his staff was not wanting in the case of my husband, who, as before stated, was brevetted for gallantry and meritorious conduct at the battles of Contreras and Churubusco in the Mexican War.

Halleck's reply was a bitter disappointment to Mr. Gouverneur but a tremendous relief to me, as I knew he was not in the condition of health to serve even as a staff-officer. When he originally broached the subject to me I did not try to dissuade him, as I felt that I had no moral right to interfere with his ideas of duty to his country. The Halleck letter, therefore, brought about a state of affairs in our household much more satisfactory than my most sanguine anticipations. Mr. Gouverneur, having done his full duty, gave up his idea of re-entering the Army and, in a spirit of contentment, began to take up life in our new home.

During the month of August, 1863, we had just gotten fairly settled when the Confederate guerrilla chieftain, John S. Mosby, appeared at our door with his band of marauders. Their visit was brief and we were spared the usual depredations—why, we knew not, unless it were owing to the fact that Mr. Gouverneur's nephew, James Monroe Heiskell, a mere boy of sixteen, who ran away from home and swam across the Potomac to join Mosby's band, possibly accompanied him. Mosby's men in the East and Morgan's rangers in the West represented a species of ignoble warfare. In reality they did not benefit the cause which they professed to serve, but merely molested inoffensive farmers by carrying off their stock and thus depriving them of their means of livelihood. In recent years I discussed with a Confederate officer, the late General Beverly Robertson, Mosby's mode of warfare, and he surprised but gratified me very much by saying that in his opinion, it was a great injury to the Southern cause. It seems hardly just that, during President Grant's administration and later, official positions should have been bestowed upon Mosby while the interests of other Confederate officers who had fought a fair and honorable fight and had battled, moreover, for their country during the Mexican War, should have been neglected.

These war experiences furnished strenuous days for us in our new home and we lived in a state of constant excitement. I well recall the first morning it was announced to us by one of the colored servants, while we were at the breakfast table, that "the rebels were coming," and the feeling of timidity that nearly overpowered me. Very soon some troops under the command of General Bradley T. Johnson, a native of Frederick, marched upon our lawn and encamped all around us. General Johnson immediately came to our door and, although I was in anything but a comfortable frame of mind, I summoned all my courage and met him at the threshold. In a very courtly manner—too much so, in fact, to be expected in time of war—he remarked, "You are a stranger here, madam." I responded: "My life here has been short; my name is Gouverneur." He at once said: "I suppose you are a relative of Mr. Gouverneur of the Maryland Tract." I admitted the fact although I was not quite sure it was discreet to do so, as the Union sentiments of my father-in-law were generally well known, and I was talking to a Confederate General. He and his officers spent some time with us and we found them exceedingly friendly, and thus, at least for a time, the terrors of war were averted. Many years later I met General Johnson in my own drawing-room when he and his wife came from Baltimore to attend the wedding of my daughter, Ruth Monroe, to his cousin, Doctor William Crawford Johnson, of Frederick. We naturally discussed our first meeting when he was greeted with less cordiality than he received during his present visit.

Upon learning of the approach of the Confederates, we made rapid preparations for their advent. As we had learned from our neighbors that the South stood in great need of horses and we owned a number of them of more than usual value, Mr. Gouverneur seized upon an ingenious plan for concealing them. Under our house was a fine cellar which, unfortunately, the horses refused to enter until the steps leading into it were removed. When this had been done, they were led down one by one into a darkened room, and bags were securely tied over their eyes to prevent them from neighing. During the visit of the Confederates, which seemed to us interminably long, owing to our anxiety about the horses, General Johnson sat directly over their hiding place; but they behaved like well-bred beasts and never uttered a sound. I had serious misgivings, however, when I saw a mounted officer, riding around the house to make a survey of the premises, stop at the upturned steps. For a moment I thought all was over and my feelings were akin to those, I fancy, of a person secreting stolen goods; but the investigation happily went no further and he rode on.

When the active preparations for hiding the horses were in progress my children were running hither and thither and watching the process with much interest and excitement. I called them to me and in my sternest tones told them of the near approach of the soldiers and gave them to understand that if they said "horse" or "rebel devil" in their presence I should punish them severely. They had been taught by the negroes on the place to call the Southerners "rebel devils," and I feared for the result if they allowed their childish tongues to wag too freely. A few hours later I spoke to one of the little girls upon some topic entirely foreign to our original subject, but she was so overawed by my threat and the presence of the troops that she seemed afraid to utter a word. After a little encouragement, however, she crept up to my side and whispered: "Mamma, they have taken all of our saddles!" General Johnson was still sitting on our porch, when a soldier approached and asked for an ax. One was immediately procured, when the General, asking the man's name, said: "That ax is to be returned." This order struck me as somewhat ludicrous when a little later I learned that the ax was to be used in demolishing all of our fences! This precaution was deemed important in order to facilitate, if necessary, a more speedy retreat.

As night approached we were asked if a guard would be acceptable, and we were only too glad to avail ourselves of such protection. As we were closing the house for the night, after our strenuous day, one of the soldiers on guard duty remarked to me, in a friendly voice: "Now I am going to bed!" In my astonishment I said: "Where?" The smiling response was: "On the porch, to be sure!" In this state of unrest there was no repose for us that night and we did not even attempt to undress, as we knew not what an hour might bring forth. Just before dawn there was a knock upon the front door and, upon opening it, I found facing me a guard who, without any apology, said: "I left my boots inside!" Before I had locked the front door again and returned to my room, the Southerners had "folded up their tents like the Arabs and as silently stolen away." Only a short period had elapsed when several mounted officers dashed up our driveway and anxiously inquired: "Where are the guards?" They gave me only time enough to say, "They have gone," when they rode rapidly away. We came to the conclusion that they were young men visiting their relatives and friends in Frederick and that the retreat was so sudden that no word of warning could be sent them.

We realized the next day that the hasty departure of the Confederates was timely, as the Union Army was encamped all around us. Some of the officers came to see us and Mr. Gouverneur invited them to dine. This was a period of sudden transitions, for that night the Union Army retreated and the next day the Confederates were with us again, dining upon the remnants of the meal left by their adversaries. It was all we had to give them, as all our colored servants, having been told that they would be captured and taken further South, had fled upon hearing of the second visit of the Confederates. This was naturally a trying experience for me, as no servant except a Chinese maid was left upon the place and I was in a strange locality. But luckily I found the last set of officers pleasant and congenial and ready to make due allowance for all household deficiencies. Several of them were natives of Loudoun County, Virginia, and were familiar with our name, as they had lived near Oak Hill, the estate of Mr. Gouverneur's grandfather, where my husband had passed a portion of his early life. We soon learned that country life during war times without satisfactory servants was much more than either Mr. Gouverneur or I had sufficient courage or strength to bear. This state of affairs resulted in my husband going to New York, where he secured a family of Irish immigrants consisting of a woman and three men. The relative positions of the two armies in our general vicinity had meanwhile shifted several times and we never knew from day to day whether we were destined to greet friend or foe.

On the particular morning of which I am about to speak, the Confederates were again with us. They were apparently unacquainted with the topography of the surrounding country and were naturally desirous of securing such information as should enable them, in case of necessity, to effect a speedy and secure retreat. We received an early call from several of their officers who inquired the way to the "Alms House Road." We had been so busily engaged in trying to settle ourselves down under such adverse circumstances that we knew actually nothing of the surrounding country; and, when Mr. Gouverneur informed our visitors of this fact, they looked at one another in such a decidedly incredulous way as to convince us that they thought we were withholding information. My husband finally sent for John Demsey, one of our Irish immigrants, who had driven considerably around the adjacent country, and one of the officers in a rather offensive manner renewed his query about the "Alms House Road." To our chagrin, John's answer was, "I do not know;" and Mr. Gouverneur, realizing that affairs were assuming a rather serious aspect, said: "John, you do know; tell the officer at once." With true Irish perspicacity he exclaimed: "Oh, sir, you mean the 'Poor House road'—I know that;" and forthwith gave the desired information. In anything but pleasant tones the Irish youth was told by the officers to accompany them as guide, and the order was obeyed with both fear and alacrity. Mr. Gouverneur then exacted from the commanding officer his word of honor that the man be permitted to return, and remarked at the same time, in an ironical manner, that if they continued to tear down our fences and commit other depredations we should all of us know the location of the Alms House.

At a much later period General Jubal A. Early's Army passed our door en route, as at least he hoped, for Washington. General John B. Gordon sent an orderly to our house with his compliments to ask for a map of Frederick County, which we were unable to supply. All through the day the Southern troops continued to march by, until, towards sunset, the rear of the last column halted in front of our place. As we knew that a battle was imminent, we awaited the result with beating hearts and anxious hopes. When the firing of cannon began we know that the battle of the Monocacy had begun and were truly grateful that it was four miles away! The battle was short and decisive and the Southern Army was repulsed. The wounded soldiers were conveyed to Frederick, where hospitals were improvised, and the dead were laid to rest in Mount Olivet Cemetery, on the outskirts of the city. Both Northern and Southern sympathizers became skilled nurses and their gentle ministrations resulted in several instances in romantic attachments. Among the young physicians left in Frederick to attend the wounded soldiers was Doctor Robert S. Weir, who subsequently became distinguished as a surgeon in New York City. While stationed at the hospital in Frederick, he met a daughter of Robert G. McPherson, whom at the conclusion of the war he married. Mrs. McPherson was Miss Milicent Washington, who was a direct descendant of Colonel Samuel Washington, a younger brother of George Washington, and whose five wives are all interred in the graveyard at the old family home, Harewood, in Jefferson County, Virginia. Mrs. McPherson, one of whose ancestors was Miss Ann Steptoe, who married Willoughby Allerton, was also a niece of "Dolly" Madison.

Prior to the battle of the Monocacy I discovered that our house was again surrounded by quite a number of Northern soldiers. This was an usual occurrence, to be sure, but this time they were making such a careful scrutiny of the premises that I was led to inquire of one of them what object they had in view. To my utter dismay I was informed that as our house was upon a hill they had selected it as "a position," and that our safest place was in the cellar. We soon realized the wisdom of this retreat as shells began to fly around us from several directions and with much rapidity. We spent the greater part of the day underground, wondering all the while how long our involuntary imprisonment would last, as these dark and dismal quarters were naturally a great restraint upon the children and exceedingly depressing to Mr. Gouverneur and myself.

Although Northern in our sentiments, we sometimes preferred the visits of the Confederates to those of their adversaries, owing to the greater consideration which we received from them. Upon the arrival of our own soldiers, their first act was to search the house from garret to cellar. At first I indignantly inquired their object and was curtly informed that they were searching for "concealed rebels." I gradually tolerated this mode of procedure until one morning when we were routed up at five o'clock, and then I protested. The Union soldiers took it for granted that, owing to the locality of our home, we were Southern sympathizers, and accordingly at times seemed to do everything in their power to make us uncomfortable. During those trying days I frequently recalled the wise saying of Marechal Villars, "Defend me from my friends, I can defend myself from my enemies." We noticed, however, a great difference in the conduct of the various detachments of the Union Army with which we came in contact. We always greeted the appearance of the 6th Army Corps with much enthusiasm. It was composed of stalwart and sturdy veterans of the regular Army; and I trust its survivors will accept my humble tribute of respect and esteem. Very early in the morning of the day following the departure of some members of this corps from Po-ne-sang a private appeared at one of our rear doors and inquired when the troops had departed. He had been indulging in a sound sleep under one of the broken fences and was wholly unconscious that his comrades had moved away. He hesitated for some minutes as to the course he should pursue and then hurried off toward Hagerstown. We subsequently learned that he was shot at a point not far distant and were impressed anew by the bloody horrors attending our Civil War.

General David Hunter made frequent visits to Frederick and his approach was regarded with terror by those in sympathy with the Southern cause. It was he who performed the unpleasant duty of sending persons suspected of disloyalty further South, thereby often separating families. Many of his victims were elderly people and it is difficult for me at this late day to describe the amount of distress these orders occasioned. I remember one case particularly well, that of Dr. John Thomas McGill, a practicing physician who, together with his wife, was ordered to proceed immediately. Mrs. McGill was in very delicate health and the fright caused by such summary proceedings, which by the way were not carried out, tremendous Union influences having been brought to bear, resulted in death. Many years after the war I attended a supper party at the home of Judge and Mrs. John Ritchie, when the guests drifted into war reminiscences. Dr. McGill was present and, as the conversation progressed, he was so overcome by his emotion that an apoplectic stroke was feared.

During the numerous visits of the Confederate army to Frederick County, General "Joe" Johnston became a great favorite and for some time made his headquarters in the city of Frederick. I learned from Colonel William Richardson, a beloved citizen of that place, that the General was especially solicitous concerning the welfare of the men under his command. One day, for example, he found one of his soldiers eating raw persimmons and at once reproved him for partaking of such unsuitable food. The soldier explained that he was adapting his stomach to the character of his rations. Although we did not see Stonewall Jackson's troops pass on their march to Frederick, we were aware of their presence there. Barbara Frietchie, whom Whittier has immortalized, lived in a small house on West Patrick Street, adjoining Carroll Creek, but whether she ever waved a Union flag as Stonewall Jackson's men were passing is a question concerning which opinions differ. Southern sympathizers deny it, while persons of Northern sentiments living in Frederick assert that the verses of the Quaker poet represent the truth. At any rate, a woman with such a name "lived and moved and had her being" in that city. She was interred in the burying ground of the German Reformed Church, and frequently pilgrimages are made to her grave, over which floats a Union flag not far from where

I may state, in passing, that it was during the Civil War that the word "shoddy" was coined. It was originally used to designate a class of inferior goods intended for use in the army from the sale of which many fortunes were made. Later the word was employed to designate those who used such goods; and thus, by extension, one heard not only of "shoddy people," but also of "shoddy parties," "shoddy clothes," and so on.

We heartily shared in the rejoicings of the North when General Lee surrendered. In our country home we had lived in an actual condition of camp life so long that at its conclusion I remarked to my husband in a jocular vein that I was prepared for a life with the Comanches! We restored our damaged fences, dug up our silver which had been buried many months under a tree in the garden, and Mr. Gouverneur began to turn his attention to agriculture. Our farm was among the finest in Frederick County, which is usually regarded as one of the garden spots of the country. Our social relations had been entirely suspended, as the distractions attending the war had kept us so actively employed; but that was now a past episode and we began making pleasant acquaintances from Frederick and the surrounding country. Among our first visitors were Judge and Mrs. William P. Maulsby; Richard M. Potts and his brother, George Potts; Mr. and Mrs. Charles E. Trail; the Rev. Dr. and Mrs. George Diehl and their daughter Marie, who in subsequent years endeared herself to the residents of Frederick; Mrs. John McPherson and her daughter, Mrs. Worthington Ross; Dr. and Mrs. Fairfax Schley; Judge and Mrs. John Ritchie; Mr. and Mrs. Jacob M. Kunkel; and the Rev. Marmaduke Dillon-Lee, an Englishman who had served in the British Army and at this time was the rector of All Saints Episcopal Church in Frederick. He had been selected for this pulpit on account of his neutral political views and we found in him a congenial acquaintance. He remained in Frederick, however, for only a short period after the war and was succeeded by the deservedly beloved Rev. Dr. Osborne Ingle, who, after a pastorate of nearly half a century, recently passed to his reward. I can not pass this Godly man by without an encomium to his memory. He came to Frederick as a very young man and throughout his long rectorship he was truly a leader of his flock and, like the "Good Shepherd of Old," the sheep knew him and loved him.

It did not take long for Mr. Gouverneur and me to discover that neither of us was adapted to a country life under the conditions prevailing at the close of the War—so very different from those existing in that locality at a later period. He knew nothing of practical farming and I knew nothing of practical cooking. Although I was never entirely without domestic service, as I always had with me the Chinese maid whom I had brought from the East, we were not fitted, at the best, for such a life. The result was that after one winter's experience we made Po-ne-sang only our summer home. During the trials and tribulations of that distant winter I often recalled a remark which Lord Chesterfield is said to have made to several persons whom he disliked: "I wish you were married and settled in the country." It has even been asserted that, in his absentmindedness and excitement incident to encountering an infuriated cow, he addressed the beast with the same words. This was a favorite anecdote of General Scott, and it appealed to me then as well as now, as I regard country life a forlorn fate for all women excepting possibly those who are endowed with large wealth with which to gratify every passing whim.

The primitive life we led at Po-ne-sang was full of annoyances and discouragements. For example, we had no running water in our house and were supposed to supply ourselves from a cistern in the yard which had contracted the bad habit of running dry and for inconvenient periods remaining so. We were therefore compelled to carry all our water from a neighbor's spring at least a quarter of a mile away. We tried to remedy this defect by boring an artesian well, but all our attempts were unsuccessful. Country life was distasteful to cooks as they preferred to live in a city where they could make and mingle with friends, and I soon learned that if I wanted to keep a servant I must hire one who had a baby, and that is just what I did. Although country life was distasteful to her, too, she took her dose of medicine because she could not help herself as no one else would employ her. Often these babies were a source of great care to me, as their mothers would neglect them—sometimes from ignorance but more frequently from sheer indifference. I remember one cook whose baby, owing to the lack of proper attention, was actually in danger of starving to death. She kept it in a wooden box under a tree in the garden, and I was obliged at stated intervals to see that the child was fed.

During our summers at Po-ne-sang our servants made both hard and soft soap in a large kettle which swung from an iron tripod in the yard. They also made apple and peach butter, a German marmalade that was highly regarded in that section of the country. The apples or peaches were allowed to cook slowly all day in a kettle suspended from the tripod and were stirred by wooden paddles, whose handles were long enough to enable them to be worked at a convenient distance from the fire. In making this marmalade, cider was regarded as an important ingredient and the sugar was seldom added until the last. Mr. Gouverneur experimented somewhat in wine making. His success was almost phenomenal and we enjoyed the fruits of his labor for many years. He used Catawba grapes entirely, which were brought to our door in wagon-loads by the country folk who surrounded us.

The Maryland mountaineers, as I knew them, were very similar in life and character to those in North Carolina, of whom more or less has been written the last few years. They had peculiar customs as well as quaint modes of action and expression, and invented names for things and conditions to suit themselves. I remember, for example, that when persons showed signs of physical illness and the exact nature of their maladies was uncertain they were said to have "the gobacks." Frederick County was settled by the early Germans and many of their expressions are still in vogue. A peach dried whole with the seed retained is called a hutzel, and dried apples are snitz. In this connection I am reminded of a German family named House, which resided in Frederick and consisted of four maiden sisters. Their means were limited and they eked out their living by stamping from original designs and taking in plain sewing. Their front door was always locked and bolted, and to reach the inmates it was necessary to pass through a gate leading into a long alley and thence through a scrupulously clean kitchen and up the steep and narrow back stairs to a small rear room, where sat these four spinsters. The first one who met you said, "Good-morning," and the others repeated the salutation in turn until the last one was reached, who simply said, "Morning." This laughable procedure was followed in their subsequent conversation, for one of them had only to lead off with a remark and the others repeated the close of it. It is said that Crissie, the youngest of the quartette, once had a beau with whom she sat each night for many years in their prim parlor and that, when he finally jilted her, one of her sisters was heard to remark, Àpropos of the broken engagement: "Just think of all them candles wasted!"

The second winter of our Maryland life was spent at a hotel in Frederick where we formed a lasting friendship with our fellow boarders, Judge and Mrs. John A. Lynch. With my historical as well as social tastes, I found the McPherson household a source of great pleasure and intellectual profit to me. I knew Mrs. "Fanny" McPherson, as she was invariably called, only as an elderly woman who retained all the graces and charms of youth. To listen to her tales of bygone days was a pleasure upon which I even yet delight to dwell. She lived to a very great age surrounded by her children, her grandchildren and her great-grandchildren, and went to her grave beloved by all. She was the granddaughter of Thomas Johnson, the first Governor of Maryland. I remember reading on one occasion a letter which she took great pride in showing me, written to her grandfather by Washington, offering him the position of Secretary of State in his cabinet. This flattering offer he declined, but to him is said to belong the honor of having nominated Washington as Commander in Chief of the Army.

Mrs. McPherson was nearly related to Mrs. John Quincy Adams, who was Louisa Catharine Johnson of this same Maryland family, and, as she was an occasional visitor at the White House during her relative's residence there, she mingled with many prominent people. I recall a weird story she once told me in connection with a daughter of Smith Thompson, Secretary of the Navy under President Monroe. It seems she married the Viscount Paul Alfred de Bresson, the third Secretary of the French Embassy in Washington, and subsequently many elaborate entertainments were given in her honor in Washington. She returned with her husband to Europe and several months later her family received the announcement of her death. As they had only recently received a letter from her, when apparently she was in the best of health and spirits, they felt somewhat skeptical and wrote at once for more definite information. A few weeks later a package reached them containing her heart preserved in alcohol. Mrs. McPherson's older daughter, Mrs. Worthington Ross, lived with her mother and ministered with loving hands to her wants in her old age, while the remainder of her life was devoted to unselfish labor in her Master's vineyard. Her memory, as well as that of her only child, Fanny McPherson Ross, who passed onward and upward before her, is still revered in Frederick.

Mr. Gouverneur and I also formed a pleasant acquaintance with Rev. Dr. John McElroy, whose remarkable career in the Catholic Church is well worthy of notice. Coming to this country as a mere lad, he engaged in mercantile pursuits in Georgetown, D.C., and when about sixteen years of age became a lay Jesuit and in 1817 entered the priesthood. After ministering to Trinity church in Georgetown for several years, he was transferred, at the request of Chief Justice Roger B. Taney, to Frederick, where he built St. John's church, a college, an academy, an orphan asylum, and the first free school in the city. After remaining there for twenty-three years and establishing a reputation for devotion to his church and rare executive ability that made him one of the most useful Jesuits in the country, he was sent back to his old church in Georgetown and the following year went to the Mexican War as Chaplain in the regiment commanded by Caleb Cushing. During our occasional conversations it seemed to afford him more than usual pleasure to discuss with me the ability of his distinguished military chief. After the war he was sent to Boston, where he became pastor of St. Mary's church, and built the Boston College and the Church of the Immaculate Conception. At the age of ninety, he became blind and retired to the scene of his early labors in Frederick, where, as the oldest Jesuit in the world, he died in the fall of 1877. I remember meeting him one day on the street when he proudly announced that it was his birthday and that he was sixty-nine years of age. I knew him to be much older, and my words of astonishment evidently revived his senses for, realizing that he had reversed his figures, he corrected himself by adding, "I mean ninety-six." At that time he was quite active, considering his extreme age, and to the close of his life was much respected and beloved by the residents of Frederick, irrespective of creed. I attended his funeral and he was laid to rest in the burying ground of the old Novitiate which he founded. It was then that I saw for the first time the grave of Chief Justice Roger B. Taney. The two-story brick house in Frederick in which he lived is still standing, but it would be regarded with contempt by any of the present Justices of the Supreme Court of the United States. But how natural, for how changed are the times! In an eloquent address subsequent to Taney's death, Charles O'Conor concluded with these words: "May the future historian in writing of Judge Roger B. Taney sorrowfully add, Ultimus Romanorum."

Francis Scott Key, the author of "The Star-Spangled Banner," is also buried in Frederick soil. For many years his remains reposed in an unnoticed grave in Mount Olivet Cemetery but, through the efforts of the citizens of Frederick, and especially of its women, an imposing monument now towers above him surmounted by a superb male figure with outstretched arms. While living in Maryland I frequently met Chief Justice Salmon P. Chase at the residence of Mrs. Margaret Goldsborough, and was much impressed by his imposing presence and courtly bearing. Many years before, he had been a tutor in the Frederick College, which still survives and whose walls bear the inscription "1797." Mrs. Goldsborough was a lifelong resident of Frederick and a woman of a high degree of intelligence. Her daughter, Miss Mary Catharine Goldsborough, I always numbered among my most cherished friends.

After a pleasant sojourn of a number of months in Frederick, we went to spend the summer at Po-ne-sang, where we had the satisfaction of entertaining quite a number of old friends, among whom was the Hon. Lafayette S. Foster, then Vice-President pro tempore of the United States. Maryland was a familiar as well as a cherished State to him, as in early life he had been a tutor in Centerville on the "Eastern Shore." Mr. Foster's visit was decidedly uneventful to him, as he was there entirely unheralded and without even a newspaper notice to announce his coming and going.