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moment on the tramway. Then Mrs. Gray said, "Patty, if we walk a little way toward the Navy Yard, I think I can show you some of the old forest trees that Pocahontas might have rested under, more than once, as she went up and down the river to save and help the whites."

Patty's face lighted up in a moment; so her mother had no need to ask, "Would you like to go?" They turned off toward New Jersey Avenue, and came at last to a square brick house,* surrounded by a high wall, which dropped so low in front of the lawn that Patty could have climbed over it. Before the house were four old oaks. They looked as if they had rather a lonely time in the world. There were no blinds on the house, but heavy shutters were bolted across the inside of the windows.

"I think we may spring over the wall," said Mrs. Gray, "if we are careful to do no harm." So Patty gave a jump, and went over. Then she held out her little hand to help her mother.

*This house stands north and east of Reservation 17 on the plans, and is still owned by the daughters of Daniel Carroll.

Mrs. Gray could have gone over very nicely alone, but she took Patty's hand, because it pleased her to see her little girl attentive and thoughtful.

"If I take it," thought mamma, "Patty will be more likely to offer it again, some day, when it is really needed."

They walked over the dead grass, and round the house. A little foot-track led them to a clump of willows, under which there was a cool spring bubbling up.

"Mamma," said Patty, "somebody comes here. See how bright and clear the water is!"

"Yes," said Mrs. Gray; "when I was a young girl, all the neighbors used this spring. I dare say they do it now, although the house is shut up."

"What funny bricks!" said Patty, putting her hand on a part of the wall, near which they stood. "See how small they are, and how blue!"

"Those bricks were made in England," said Mrs. Gray. "Look at them close, and see how hard they are. They do not drink in water like

our bricks."

"Why, mamma!" said Patty; "who lived here?"

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"Daniel Carroll," said her mother; "and when he built the house, he cut away the oaks to dig his cellar; and all this hill was his farm or pasture. He was so determined to die rich that he became very poor, and had to sell his land, little by little, to buy bread and clothes."

"And what a silly man he was," said Patty, as they trod on tiptoe over the round stones that paved the court-yard, and came out under the big oaks, "what a silly man he was to send to England for bricks! Why, Willie and I have made bricks our own selves!"

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"People did so all over the country, at that time," said Mrs. Gray. "I suppose they did not know where to look for the proper clay. In the French and English war, the English brought over bricks to build their forts with. There is one at Castine, in Maine, built of just such bricks as these; and when Washington built Mount Vernon, in 1785, he sent to England for stones, that he could have found within a very few miles of his own door. Can't you guess the reason ?"

Patty was quiet a little while. Then she said, doubtfully,—

"I s'pose there was a reason?"

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Oh, yes!" said her mother, smiling. "Washington sent for carpenters and bricklayers, too." "Oh," said Patty, "that was because of slavery. The slaves hadn't been taught, and so they sent to England for men; and they came, just as they come from Boston now. Was there any other reason, mamma?”

"It was easier to bring the bricks by ship," said Mrs. Gray. "The country was new; we had no good roads; and I dare say Washington did not know where to find the beautiful Baltimore clay, or the Virginia marble."

"Pocahontas knew!" said Patty, suddenly, looking up at the oaks.

"Did she?" said 'Mrs. Gray.

"Why, yes, mamma," said Patty. " Don't you know what beautiful red pots and kettles Powhatan had, and how he cut kettles for himself out of soapstone? They showed them to us in the Museum, the other day."

Mrs. Gray smiled. She was not sure that Powhatan ever saw the very kettles of which

Patty spoke; but she was glad to have the little girl think about it, and had no doubt he knew where to find the red clay that showed crimson traces all along the water-courses.

They walked home slowly, and found Paul Kane had come to lunch. Patty ate her bread and milk sitting on his knee.

The Professor's wife had had English visitors, and had been vexed at some of the foolish things they said. They had complained because they found no silver forks at a small western hotel.

"They would never have looked for them in a Welsh hamlet," said Paul Kane.

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What is a hamlet?" said Patty.

"Ham is Anglo-Saxon for house," said Paul. "Ham-let means a little house; but we always use it for a cluster of houses- a little villageless than a town."

"I wonder what they would have said if they had found neither knives nor forks," said Mrs. Gray.

"They never could, of course," said the Professor's wife.

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Perhaps not; but I did," said Mrs. Gray,

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