the most distinguished men of the Revolution, as materials for a series of historical paintings of the war then just ended. His wife and daughters, who came with him, were as diminutive as himself, and the family appeared almost like pigmies.

Pine had been a student of art under Sir Joshua Reynolds. He was highly esteemed by that artist, and was popular with a large number of influential men in England. He brought letters of introduction to Francis Hopkinson, of Philadelphia; and the first portrait that he painted after his arrival in this country, was of that gentleman. It was finished early in 1785, and was first well engraved by Longacre, and published in the American Portrait Gallery. Robert Morris also patronized him, and built a studio for him in Eighth street, in Philadelphia.

Pine's republican proclivities made him unpopular with the ministerial party at home, and gave him corresponding sympathy in America. He found constant employment for his pencil in Philadelphia, Baltimore, Annapolis, and in several places in Virginia. He went to Mount Vernon in May, 1785, with a letter of introduction to Washington from Francis Hopkinson, in which the chief was requested to give the painter sittings, in furtherance of his grand design of composing scenes of the War for Independence. He was cordially received, and remained there three weeks. During that time Washington wrote as follows to Mr. Hopkinson, dated a Mount Vernon, May 16, 1785:

"DEAR SIR: "In for a penny in for a pound,' is an ola adage. I am so hackneyed to the touches of the painter's pencil, that I am now altogether at their beck, and sit, like

Patience on a monument, whilst they are delineating the lines of my face.

"It is a proof among many others of what habit and custom can effect. At first I was as impatient at the request, and as restive under the operation, as a colt is of the saddle. The next time I submitted very reluctantly, but with less flouncing. Now no dray moves more readily to the thill than I do to the painter's chair. It may easily be conceived, therefore, that I yielded a ready obedience to your request, and to the views of Mr. Pine.

"Letters from England, recommendatory of this gentleman, came to my hand previous to his arrival in America, not only as an artist of acknowledged eminence, but as one who had discovered a friendly disposition toward this country, for which it seems he had been marked."

While at Mount Vernon Pine painted the portraits of two of Mrs. Washington's grandchildren. These were Elizabeth Parke Custis, then about nine years of age, who afterward married Mr. Law, a wealthy English gentleman; and George Washington Parke Custis, the last survivor of his family, who died at Arlington House, on the Potomac, in the autumn of 1857. The pictures are exquisitely painted, and, like all of Pine's productions, the colors retain their original vividness.

Elizabeth is represented as a beautiful girl, with rich brown hair lying in careless curls, and in great profusion, upon her head and neck, her bosom covered with very light drapery, and having lying upon it the miniature of her father, John Parke Custis (printed on page 84 of this volume), suspended by a ribbon around her neck

The brother was then between four and five years of age. He is represented as a fair-haired child, with loose summer garments, and carrying in his hand a branch with two or three leaves upon it. These pictures now occupy a conspicuous place upon the walls of the drawing-room at Arlington House.

Pine's grand design was never carried out. He died four or five years after his visit to Mount Vernon, and his family returned to England. The portraits which he had painted were sold and scattered. That of Washington was afterward found in Montreal, and purchased by the late Henry Brevoort, of Bedford, Long Island, and is now in possession of his son, J. Carson Brevoort.

A few weeks after Pine left Mount Vernon, and while the plasterers were at work ornamenting the ceiling of the great drawing-room of the mansion, then just compieted, there was an arrival at the home of Washington of an extraordinary character. It was a pack of French hounds, sent to him by Lafayette. On the 1st of September Washington wrote to the marquis, saying: "The hounds which you were so obliging as to send, arrived safe, and are of promising appearance. To Monsieur le Comte Doilliamson (if I miscall him, your handwriting is to blame, and in honor you are bound to rectify the error), and in an especial manner to his fair Comtesse, my thanks are due for this favor. The enclosed letter, which I

give you the trouble of forwarding, contains my acknowledg ment of their obliging attention to me on this occasion."

While Washington thanked Lafayette and his friends for their kindly offices, he certainly did not feel specially thankful for the hounds. During the war, his hunting establishment, which had been perfect, had been almost broken up, and he felt no disposition to renew it. His kennel, which was situated very near the site of the present tomb of Washington, was quite dilapidated; and the paling which enclosed it and a fine spring of water, had almost disappeared. Vulcan and Truelove, Ringwood and Sweetlips, Singer and Forester, Music and Rockwood-hounds of note on the master's register when he left Mount Vernon for the senate-were missing or were too old for service when he returned, and for only about three years afterward did he keep any hounds at all. Those sent by Lafayette were of great size and strength. Because of their fierce disposition they were kept closely confined; and, a few months after their arrival, Washington broke up his kennel, gave away his hounds, bade adieu to the chase forever, and, for his amusement, formed a fine deer-park below the mansion, upon a beautiful slope extending to the river.

The late Mr. Custis has left on record the following anecdote: "Of the French hounds, there was one named Vulcan, and we bear him the better in reminiscence, from having often bestrid his ample back in the days of our juvenility. It happened that upon a large company sitting down to dinner at Mount Vernon one day, the lady of the mansion (my grandmother) discovered that the ham, the pride of every Virginia housewife's table, was missing from its accustomed post of honor. Upon questioning Frank, the butler, this portly, and